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fizzyxcustard · 11 months

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Those Hands.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Insecurity, comparison, angst, sexual references, mutual pining, idiots in love.

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you (from the race of Men) but constantly compares his body and features with other men, thinking you find him disgusting." Requested by multiple readers and anons. (THANK YOU!)

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thorin watched every little interaction that you had with other males, whether they be Dwarves, Men or Elves. He couldn’t help but watch you blush, avert eye contact and use self-soothing gestures, such as touching your face, curling your hair with your fingers, or rubbing your upper arms.

Since Thorin had been crowned King of Erebor, and re-building was underway, many people visited the mountain. Bard came from Esgaroth, often meeting with Thorin in council, to discuss trade deals and assistance in building. Much to Thorin’s distain, Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, also came. Again, he joined the council to converse around the subject of trade deals in precious metals and gemstones.

Your relationship with Thorin was entirely built on trust. The two of you had been companions out on the road during the quest to re-take Erebor. He had always valued your opinion, spoke with you in private, and kept you close to him on his council of advisors. Erebor was now your home, despite you being of the race of Men. Your family were all gone, meaning that the Dwarves had now taken that place, welcoming you into the fold and treating you as one of their own.

One morning, council was busy. Neldra, one of the kitchen staff, was on hand with jugs of cold drinks and pots of tea. Then once all the drinks were laid out neatly on intricately laced doilies, she came back with a trolley of fresh pastries.

The smell was divine; you took an inhale and let the scent overtake you. Apple and cinnamon were among the selection: your favourite.

You reached out to take one of the pastries, only to feel another hand graze yours. “I apologise,” a voice came, from the direction of the hand.

It was Bard, from two seats down to your right hand side, who had stretched across to grab one of Neldra’s famous delicacies. “It was no bother,” you replied. “You first.”

“Ladies first. I insist.”

Thorin’s blue eyes studied the scene going on before him. No one else had noticed the exchange between you and Bard. Upon the impact of yours and Bard’s hands, Thorin felt a jolt in his chest. It rose up into his throat, and he closed his eyes for a brief second. The red hot sensation bore into him, feeling as if it were forming a hole straight through him. Upon opening his eyes, Thorin looked at his hands, then glanced across to Bard’s. The man’s hands were broad, but his fingers long and slender. Very much unlike Thorin’s. The Dwarf King’s fingers were short and bulky, with stubby ends. Surely Bard’s hands would have the dexterity and skill to caress your skin, drawing shivers from you. A Dwarf’s hands would be too calloused and thick to evoke any kind of pleasurable sensation upon a woman from the race of Men.

Chatter continued, along with eating and drinking. In that time, Thorin tried his hardest to push the negative thoughts from his mind, and concentrate on the conversation at hand, which involved the realms of Erebor and Esgaroth exchanging skilled workers and apprentices.

Thranduil was also present and merely rolled his eyes as the conversation got underway between Bard and Thorin. The Elven King did not like to waste his time, and being in this council meant that there were stints of time where his input was not needed.

“Would you like another drink?” you asked Thranduil, picking up the nearest china pot of tea.

“I would much prefer wine, but since I’m not within my realm, I would not say no.”

Thorin’s gaze darted over to Thranduil, and then to you. He saw you brush a piece of hair behind your ear, and then look up at the Elven King sat opposite you. Your ears were small, with one golden hoop earring in each lobe. Then Thorin looked at Thranduil’s ears; pointed at the tip, finely structured. They weren’t big, round and sticking out. Thorin’s ears were ugly, and thankfully he could keep them hidden under his long hair. Secretly, he had always imagined you whispering against them, your lips brushing them. It made Thorin shiver.

Once council had concluded, Thorin left the chamber and headed back to the royal wing. Once inside and he stood in front of his full length dress mirror, staring at the protruding ears on the side of his head. Then he studied his large hands, thinking back to Bard’s.

The males from the races of Men and Elves made you blush in a way that Thorin never had. Their bodies were more finely crafted, which complemented yours. They had finer features with smaller noses and brows.

Thorin shifted back and sat on his bed, his hands in his lap. He took one more glance at them, feeling disgusted at what he saw. They would never be good enough for you. None of his body would ever be good enough for you. Everything about him was oversized, not delicate and handsome like Bard and Thranduil. Both of them had lost their wives, and may have wished to re-marry, so they would make better husbands for you.

***

The following day and Thorin was sat in the council room, signing documents. His quill scratched loudly against the parchment.

You walked in, holding a further stack of documents in your hands. “These should be the last ones,” you said, offering a smile.

Thorin looked up at you. No blush on your face to be seen.

“Is everything alright?” you asked. There was something in his eyes, a thoughtfulness. Maybe even a sadness. You sat down in an empty seat next to Thorin. “What’s wrong?” On impulse, you placed your hand on top of his.

Thorin looked at your hands, watching your thumb gently caress his knuckle. How huge his hand looked against yours. But how right it felt, as if the size did not matter, and they were still able to fit together as one.

“There is nothing wrong,” Thorin said, forcing a weak smile. “I hear that Bard is leaving this afternoon. Will you not be wishing him farewell?”

“I barely know him,” you replied. “I’d feel it strange to do so.”

“Would you wish to get to know him?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“Surely you find him handsome,” Thorin continued, pulling the new stack of documents over towards him.

“Not really. Can’t say I do. There’s some reason to you asking this, Thorin.”

“Why would I have any reason?”

“There’s always a reason to anything that you ask. I know you enough by now. Talk to me. You’ve always given me more trust than I deserve, and never questioned me liked this before.”

Thorin took a deep inhale and looked at you, dropping his quill. “Who do you find handsome? If not Bard, maybe Thranduil?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Why ever would you think I’m attracted to King Thranduil?” The whole idea was so comical that you couldn’t help but keep giggling. “It takes….” You couldn’t stop the giggling. “A special….kind of woman….to…..”

Thorin also began to chuckle, watching your face turn red in amusement and delight. His heart somehow felt lighter as he watched you, and that overwhelming love for you rose. It was a love that would allow him to do anything to make you happy. It was a love that would make him sacrifice his very life to keep you safe. It was sacrificial and unconditional.

You could see the glow in Thorin’s eyes and the smile which curled his lips upwards. He was the one you found handsome, above all others. The intensity in his eyes made butterflies swarm in your stomach. His proud presence caused you to shiver whenever he entered a room. His voice was enough to make your imaginations travel to another place where only the two of you were, locked away in comfort, pursuing wondrous pleasure.

You edged closer to Thorin. “You said you want to know who I find handsome?”

Thorin’s heart was hammering now and he was sure that you would be able to hear it.

“It’s you.” Your voice was a whisper. “It’s always been you. How could it not be you? Why would you ever think I’d be attracted to Bard and Thranduil?”

Thorin closed his eyes in embarrassment. “My features and body are not like theirs.”

“So why would that not make you handsome?”

“My hands…”

“Your hands?” you giggled. This time a blush did hit your cheeks, and it was even more vivid than it had ever been when in the company of any other man. “You have found out my secret.”

“What secret?” Thorin asked, shifting ever so slightly closer to you. He had never wanted you any more than he did in those moments. The very thought that it was him that you found handsome was making his whole being rise, but anticipation was now racing down his spine in shivers.

“I have had a fantasy for some time now, since meeting you, of what you could do to me with those hands,” you said, biting your lip.

Thorin couldn’t hold back any more and moved even closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek. His breath was elevated and his eyes were sparkling with so much joy, but slight fear.

His lips crashed against yours and you both groaned upon impact. Within seconds and the kiss had grown deep, your tongues both meeting. You couldn’t help but whimper as Thorin’s lips left yours and trailed down your neck. His beard tickled your skin and then as he grew more impatient, you could feel the tickle become a bristling, sharp sensation. Your hands became lost in his hair as he nuzzled at your neck, groaning and grunting.

Thorin felt your fingertips brush over his ears, and it drew an overwhelming shiver from his very core.

“I love you, Thorin,” you said again. “Now show me what you can do with those hands.”

***

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#Thorin Oakenshield #The Hobbit #Thorin x You #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin x Female Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader #Reader Insert #Insecurity #Fanfiction

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orobaxis · 1 year

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Hiii! I loved your last Ominis X reader fic so much 😍 I really hope you write more!! I have a few prompts I’d love to read but feel free to pick and choose any ones you like because I’ll take any Ominis content you give 🥰

- Reader gets hurt and has to go to the hospital wing. Ominis is super worried and spends as much time as he can with them.

- Reader falls asleep on Ominis’ shoulder (or vice versa)

- Ominis getting bad dating/flirting advice from Sebastian to use on reader. Queue a facepalm from Anne and a very confused reader

- Reader comforts Ominis after he receives a particularly bad howler from his parents

- Ominis and reader each trying to build up the courage to initiate their first kiss.

these are all so sweet oml!! ! happy valentine's day everyone! thank you for all the love! <3

valentine's day chaos

ominis gaunt x reader (hogwarts legacy)

word count: 1200

prompts:

-Ominis getting bad dating/flirting advice from Sebastian to use on reader

-Reader gets hurt and has to go to the hospital wing

-Reader falls asleep on Ominis’ shoulder

and another ask: Loved your Ominis story! More pleaseee! Maybe from the prompt list: “are you really so oblivious?” I feel like that’s so very Ominis to say haha!

beware of spoilers in the comments/tags/reblogs!

ominis was doomed the moment he started to ask sebastian

unfortunately for him, he doesn't really trust anyone else for this super secret task he has appointed himself, and who else would he ask if not for his best mate sebastian? (literally anyone else)

"you want to ask y/n out on a date, do you?"

ominis tries to hide his shock, "what makes you say that?"

sebastian shrugs matter-of-factly, "well, it's valentine's day, and you've been talking about y/n all day today"

they both turn their heads to the sounds of y/n and anne laughing as they play summoner's court

"i have an idea on how you can woo y/n," sebastian suggests, and he basically sees ominis' ears twitch in interest

"well?" ominis starts, almost irritated, as he waits for sebastian, "what is it?"

sebastian smirks, "i know she will appreciate this and you will successfully woo y/n. women love grand gestures of love, y'know."

cut to charms class, all four of you are (kind of) listening to professor ronen talk about some softening charm when

BAM! the door burst open

you crane your head to see...

dwarves

three of them, wearing golden wings and carrying harps, making them resemble cupids...if not for the scowls on their faces

it may as well be goblins from the way they scowl and look around the room

you and anne exchange curious looks, wondering if professor ronen has somehow hired these dwarves, but judging from the curious look on his face as well, you doubt it

you miss sebastian elbowing ominis, an excited look on his face, and whispering, "here they are"

"y/n l/n?" one gruff dwarf calls out

you shrink next to anne, unsure of what the dwarf wants, but you have a sense that it wasn't good

professor ronen, bless him, is very confused, "um... excuse me?"

"are you y/n?"

"err, no...but--"

"y/n l/n?!" all three dwarves shout

anne pipes up, "here! she's here!" raising her hand to point at you

you try to glare at her, curious and anxious about the dwarves

one dwarf tosses you what appears to be a box of chocolates, which you almost drop, while another one clears his throat before reciting in a gruff voice

"y/n l/n, the sound of your laugh

is like my calming draught

i wish we would hug

you are a beauty and me, a lousy dugbog"

"dugbog??" ominis hisses at sebastian, who looks proud of his creation

everyone in the classroom giggles as the three dwarves try to do a pirouette and then vanish

"oh y/n," anne exclaims, "that was so..."

"sweet?" sebastian suggests

"embarrassing!" anne retorts with a laugh. behind her, you dont notice ominis turning pale (paler than he usually is already) before sending a mean elbow into sebastian's stomach (a hex too)

as the class tries to transition back to class, you see looks on their faces, excited to see what is inside the box

you open it and you see a chocolate frog

"oh," you sigh, relieved, before smiling, "this isn't so bad."

when you bite into it however, you feel your stomach turn

professor ronen and anne must have noticed how green you looked as the professor quickly produces a bag in front of you

you proceed to empty the contents of your stomach into the bag

anne frowns at this, "it's a vomiting valentine! it's a nasty thing you usually send to someone who broke your heart on valentine's day!"

"quickly, miss sallow," professor ronen instructs, "please take her to the hospital wing!"

this time, it was sebastian's turn--appearing greener than a frog.

"sallow, what have you done?" ominis hisses, "i thought you said this would work!"

"the dwarves worked, didn't they? they must have picked up a different package, she wasn't supposed to get the vomiting valentine!"

"you oaf!" the gaunt boy huffs as he and sebastian follow you and anne out of the classroom and to the hospital wing, ignoring professor ronen's shouts

thankfully, nurse blainey is able to solve your...valentine's malady

ominis, however, is so consumed by guilt, and in his head he just keeps regretting having asked sebastian for help

so when he and seb find you recovering in the hospital wing, he's relieved

and he decides that this should be the time to apologize

"some valentine's, huh?" you smile at them

in seb's quest to ask for ominis' forgiveness, he manages to drag his sister away from the hospital wing

you smile at them and wave, before turning to ominis, who looks stiff as a board, "ominis, are you alright?"

his voice is hard, "you got hurt."

you gesture to yourself, "this? oh it was nothing," you wave your hand to dismiss it

"no," he replies, "you got hurt...because of m- some stupid, stupid valentine's day prank. and you got embarrassed by those dwarves too."

you can see how much this is affecting ominis, so you try to reach for him, settling for his hand

you pull him closer to you, telling him to sit beside you on the bed, "i'll move over, sit here with me"

ominis hums, and sits beside you

"it's all sebastian's fault"

you turn your head to look at him, confused, "seb?"

"yes, he ordered those dwarves...they must have switched the package with the vomiting valentine"

hearing this from ominis kind of deflates you, and you unconsciously turn away from him

"oh...sebastian did those for me? does he...like me?"

ominis gapes in shock, eyebrows raising, "no! i mean...yes, he did all those...but he doesn't like you! he doesn't hate you either...i just meant--"

he sighs, "i asked him for help on what to give you for valentine's day...so this was all his idea. i thought...you'd like these grand gestures and--"

"wait," you perk up, smiling. ominis can hear the joy in your voice, "you...like me?"

now it's ominis' turn to look in your direction, head tilting in curiosity, "yes, of course. are you really so oblivious?"

you laugh, in shock, in relief, as you clutch his hand happily. "i guess i am. but even with the dwarves and the vomiting valentine, this day is still good."

"what makes you say that?"

you blush, mustering the courage to lean in and rest your head on his shoulder. he smells good, feels warm, safe. "well, because i just found out the person i like likes me back."

ominis hums happily at that, visibly relaxing.

you two don't say anything else, but you quietly relish in each other, his hands wrapped around yours

and slowly, he rests his head on top of yours, feeling your breathing becoming even

and ominis closes his eyes, taking in your scent, thinking, "yes, perhaps today wasn't so bad after all."

the twins come to check on you two in a while, and sebastian sighs in relief when they see you two resting, with your head on ominis' shoulder and his head resting on top of yours.

all's well that ends well

until...

"you won't be getting away with this, sebastian," ominis calls out.

#hogwarts #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #wizarding world #sebastian sallow #anne sallow #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts legacy imagine

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onsunnyside · 2 years

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³.⍭ 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝟏/𝟐)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | ghostface!ex-boyfriend!Ari Levinson x airhead/dumb!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | soft DARK/DARK themes and elements, obsessed/controlling!Ari, possessive/obsessive behaviour, dumb!reader, size difference: 6’10!Ari, manhandling, DD/LG undertones, stalking (implied), alcohol, drugs (weed, edibles). SMUT - minors DNI, fingering (f), daddy kink, size kink, exhibitionism, dirty talk, dacryphilia, degradation, dumbification, p*ssy slapping, squirting.

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.55K

𝗔/𝗡 | welcome to my first kinktober fic ever !! i’m very excited for you all to meet mr obsessive ex ari, after all, he was just thot of last week. As always, all mistakes are my own and i hope you all enjoy !!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Hey, I heard you were going to the Halloween party tonight… I just wanted to say have fun and be safe. You know how Drysdale’s parties can be—”

“You unblocked him?”

You jump, dropping your phone to the floor. At the doorway is your best friend, Wanda, with a black hat atop her soft auburn hair. She crosses her arms with a deep scowl, “Well? Are you going to explain yourself?”

You shrink under her harsh glare and nervously tug at the fur hem of your dress, “I got curious.”

She stomps towards you, embodying the grumpy, grouchy witch she’s dressed as. With a swift motion, she grabs your phone off the ground and tucks it into her purse. “Do not drunk text or call your ex.” She commands as if scolding a child. “You aren’t crawling back to that dickhead, even if I have to babysit you tonight.”

That was how plenty of people talked to you. Like you didn’t understand the simplest things and needed everything spelled out and demonstrated.

And, you won’t lie—sometimes that demeaning exchange was what you needed, but other times it just made you feel stupid.

This wasn’t the first time one of your friends has treated you this way, hell, you don’t remember when they treated you any other way. Ever since your breakup, they’ve kept you on a tight leash, snooping through your phone, keeping tabs on your whereabouts, and even passing you around like a baby who couldn’t take care of themself.

The breakup was their idea—an ultimatum, more like it, “it’s us or him. We take care of you, and he—he treats you like a pet or a fucking baby.”

You chose your closest friends over the guy who made your heart swell bigger than the moon. Even now, you still feel the ache in your chest, the gutting loss of someone you once loved and someone who made you happy.

You’re happier now, that’s what Natasha told you every day. You’re happier without him.

“I won’t!” You vow and reach for her bag, but she quickly steps away. “Wanda, please! I can hold my phone!”

“No, because now I know I can’t trust you when you’re sober!” She snaps, “It’s been what? A month?”

You wince at her volume, “Five weeks—almost six.”

She groans in frustration, “Ugh, c’mon! He was always breathing down your neck and he never let you go out with us unless he was there. How could we have proper fun with a scary giant like him?”

Ari was on the rugby team, a D1 player, whatever that meant, you assumed it meant he was one of the best. He was tall and brawny, just over 6’10” with broad shoulders and a thick chest that nearly burst through all his button-ups. His firm arms were bigger than your head and his hand dwarfed yours. He used to wrap his bicep around your neck and tug you into him to kiss your cheeks—one of his love languages was touch. And his thighs, you mourned all the times you napped on his lap, rubbing your cheek into the coarse hair of his muscular flesh.

He was so much bigger than most people on campus. His impenetrable presence towered over them. Oftentimes he’d manhandle you or carry you around. You thought it was cute when he had to duck through doorways sometimes.

The first time he ever came to your dorm room, he didn’t even try to climb to your bed on the upper bunk.

“You know, if we start dating, you’ll have to do some remodelling.” He smirked and tugged you to the edge of the mattress by your ankle, “Don’t you want me in your bed too, bunny?”

After a week of begging your roommate to rearrange the room, you both came to a compromise. Now, you were on the bottom bunk and she moved to the top.

“You could sit here now!” You presented your clean, made bed with your dozens of stuffies all neatly sitting atop the coral covers. “Watch your head but just in case, I put a little cushion too.”

Ari was popular and well-liked, he came from a good, wealthy family who hosted charity auctions and funded the college. His reputation was spotless, he was one of the top students, and he had many friends and admirers. If you two went out to dinner, it was guaranteed that someone would strike up a conversation. You didn’t care, you loved hearing Ari’s voice.

You also loved when he introduced you as his girlfriend, always kissing your hand after saying your name in that creamy voice of his.

“He isn’t scary… just intimidating.” You shyly countered, twiddling your fingers, “And he was there because I get nervous without him.”

“That’s exactly what we mean. You have to be your own person. Exist without needing someone to tell you what to do! Being so dependent on someone, much less some asshole like him, isn’t good for you.”

But Ari always knew what was good for you.

You were never the brightest star, always fumbling and forgetful, ditzy and daydreaming every second of the day. Your grades not only proved how easily you got distracted but also your lack of drive and self-discipline.

All your life you’ve flounced and fleeted, lived your days so blissfully ignorant to anything beyond the surface. That cluelessness made you vulnerable to any monster to sink their teeth into. It painted a self-portrait of your untouched, innocent soul, coloured like white chiffon.

“I didn’t mind…”

“You didn’t notice.” She corrects. “But he did. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he liked that you were—” stupid, it goes unsaid, “—oblivious. It made you easy, hun. That’s why he so effortlessly controlled you.”

Your friends could try as they might, but it will never change the fact that Ari made you feel safe, secure and loved. And without him, you’re lying back on that heap of sticky disarray without a hint of how to take care of yourself.

“We’re trying to protect you, don’t you understand that?” Wanda coaxes, tilting your chin up with her knuckle. The corners of her red lips turn down to a frown, “We care about you, we want what’s best for you and you know that Ari is far from that.” She wipes your cheek, and only then do you notice you’re crying.

You heard the first breakup was the hardest, but you never expected it to be like this. You’re lost and alone. Abandoned in the middle of a bustling city, it was blinding, overcrowded and so loud that you had to cover your eyes and ears just for relief. You’re overwhelmed and disorientated, nothing made sense, no matter how hard you try to decipher it.

There was no direction without him.

You roughly wipe your nose and meet your reflection. Aside from the fresh tears and glossy pout, your skin glistened from the glitter on your eyelids and cheekbones—bunnies aren’t shimmery, Maria said, but you thought it was cute anyway. And you loved sparkles, that’s why Ari got you so much jewelry.

Jewelry that your friends got rid of. You grieve for the gold ‘A’ initial charm, either sitting in the city dump or in a hidden box that you’ll never find. They’re all gone, just like his hoodies and sweatpants, and your beloved Hazel, the softest stuffie you’ve ever owned. You miss his weighted body covered in beige fur, floppy ears and lifeless but sweet eyes.

“I had to reward you for doing so well on that test.” That was a stretch, you got a ‘C+’ but that was better than the ‘D-’ you got last time. Ari beamed proudly when you buried your nose in the stuffie, cutely kicking your feet in happiness. “You take care of him, bunny, he’s our little baby, okay?”

Ari pampered you, took you on dates and walked you to class every day. You thought he treated you like a princess, not a pet.

Ari wasn’t that bad. To you, he was never bad.

Wanda fixes your bunny ears and rubs your shoulders, a pitiful smile on her face. “C’mon, let’s fix your makeup before we go.”

“So, he treated you like a pet?” One of your friends asked.

“…He just made sure I was well taken care of.”

“Didn’t he just plop you in front of the television while he did his own thing?”

Yes, although his academic talents seemed natural, Ari was very serious about school and would spend hours at his desk, studying or perfecting assignments. Sometimes he even did your homework, “Dummy bunny, you just sit there while I take care of this, okay?”

You vaguely recall the times he would tell you to not make a peep until he spoke first, just to keep your glossy lips shut until he addressed you. To you, it was being respectful of his quiet time and letting him set boundaries. Your friends thought it was toxic and controlling.

“You’re a human being, not his pretty little pet to do whatever he says.”

The mansion is packed when you and your friends arrive fashionably late. The bunch of you are clad in costumes ranging from a bright red devil to a dead cheerleader to a dark and mysterious witch. Unfortunately, you stuck out like a sore thumb with your egg-filled basket, sheer dress, and white fluffy ears and matching tail. You were the only one not in classic Halloween attire.

You’re grateful Natasha suggested fake eggs instead of real ones. Although you wanted the joy of painting real Easter eggs, you’ve already dropped a few on the way to the party. You dreaded the mess and smell if they were real instead of just empty plastic.

You suppose they were right, you didn’t think things through all the time.

The whole property is decked out, from the jack o'lanterns on the porch and the ‘Enter If You Dare’ sign in the front yard. Inside the big house, strobe lights flashed across the room in red, blue and green, colouring the other guests in neon shades. The walls were covered in bat and spider decals, little white ghosts hung from the banisters, and fake spider webs occupied the ceiling corners.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to get the night started. After getting drinks from a frat boy dressed as an ice cream man, the group of you migrated to the energetic dance floor in the basement.

The music was louder and the lights were brighter, blinding you every time they found your eyes. As the colour sparks across the walls, inescapable memories flash through your brain.

The last time you were at a party, it was to celebrate another win by the rugby team and being the girlfriend of their best player, you had to dress for the role. You squeezed into your old cheer uniform and cheekily stitched each letter of ‘LEVINSON’ on the back. Oh, Ari loved when you wore his name. If he could, he’d have you clad in his jersey every damn day.

This wasn’t a party hosted by his fraternity, your friends made sure of that, but a few of his friends were in attendance. You’ve caught glimpses of their tall and burly figures but didn’t dare to say hello. It would be too awkward.

What if he’s here too?

One by one, your friends disappear and you're left in the middle of the dance floor with your basket half empty. The eggs were going to be impossible to find, so you didn’t try. After weaving through the sweaty, grinding bodies, you returned to the less packed kitchen.

With your ears still pounding, you squint at the bottles, reading each name and smelling a few. Eventually, you give up and dumbly mix whatever looks good. Judging books by their covers never got you far, but it got you something, and you wanted to have fun tonight. Party, dance, get drunk and have fun.

A shadow appears next to you, crowding you against the counter with its mass and height. When you turn around, a radiant smile explodes on your face. “Hey, Brian!”

“It’s Bryce.” The light-haired man corrects with a quirk of his lips. “Forget me already?”

Your eyes widen, “Oops, sorry! No, how could I forget the world’s best lab partner?” You set aside your cup and hug him tightly, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I just got here, I had to pick up some brownies that Jensen made.” He nods to the spread of snacks and punch. Like the rest of the house, the table was Halloween-themed with eyeball cake pops, blood-red punch, and the cutest spooky cupcakes. The surface was also decorated with old lanterns, fake candles and skulls. “You want to try?”

You shy away. The last time you tried Jensen’s brownies, you jumped Ari’s bones right in front of his friends, the baker himself included! You hadn’t felt like that before, that needy, desperate and wet.

To this day, you’re still haunted by the memories of Ari slipping his hand up your tiny skirt and getting you off with just a few fingers. With his friends packed into the frat house living room, their eyes drawn to the sports game on the television, either ignoring or not noticing your quiet whimpers and the dull motions under the blanket on your lap.

“Dumb little bunny, are you gonna come in front of daddy’s friends?” He whispers against your ear, locking you tightly in his lap and stuffing your soppy core with two thick fingers, “I want you to make a stupid mess in your pretty panties, cream yourself like a pathetic baby so daddy could clean you up later.”

You shake your head, grasping his wrist under the blanket.

Ari cruelly takes that as a sign to speed up his pumps, rubbing your swollen clit with the heel of his palm. Your wetness smears down your slit, soaking your skimpy thong and the cushion of the couch. Between the pauses of the sports game, you can hear the horrifying sticky sounds from between your trembling thighs.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, bunny? Daddy’s just helping you out. Poor girl gets all wet with just a lil weed.”

You can still taste the chocolatey goodness. How shameful was it that you’d have another if he asked?

He kicks your legs apart and gets rougher, making you fall back onto his chest with a gasp, “Think I can fit another, baby? Or is your tight pussy still too little for me?”

“T-Too small, daddy—not gonna fit.” You shakily reply, knowing all too well how he has to force himself into your tight walls. The thought of his girth stuffing your core has a wave of arousal pooling around his thrusting fingers, and your stomach tightening.

He groans lowly, “Mhm, but you want me to try. Dumb little whore loves being filled to the brim, huh?” His ring finger slides alongside the other two, stretching your weepy hole as a burning sensation flows through you. “You love when I just pin you down and force you to take it. My bunny fuckin’ loves being used.” His bicep keeps you against his warm, muscled body, only reminding you how trapped you are, entirely helpless and vulnerable to his sinful actions.

He was right, you loved it.

A choked whine escapes your sealed lips, miraculously not catching the attention of the other guys. Your hips grind against his hand, practically riding his fingers as you topple over. You slap a hand over your mouth, silencing your moan as your juices spurt from your pussy.

“Good girl, that’s it, use daddy’s fingers.” He spears into you relentlessly, hitting that rough patch with his long fingers and rubbing your clit with his palm. The lewd noises grow in volume, he doesn’t give a shit if his friends notice—he wants them to. He wants them to know you’re his and only his. “Cream yourself, ya little dummy. Make a mess in front of all my friends—let ‘em know what a filthy slut you are for daddy.”

Your orgasm rushes down your leg, soaking his pants and the material of your leg warmers, and adds to the disgraceful puddle on the floor. Tears stream down your hot cheeks and your mind goes blank, drool dripping from your chin dumbly. Ari pulls away with a mean pinch to your clit and you spasm in his hold, uneven breaths shaking your frame.

He growls and slaps your cunt, unable to resist rubbing your puffy button. “Fuck, I should’ve had you try those brownies earlier, could’ve gave this greedy little cunt what it needs.”

It was safe to say if you wanted a brownie, you wouldn’t spend the night alone.

“I don’t know… It isn’t even midnight yet.”

“C’mon! It’s a new recipe, similar to his usual stuff but not as strong. You’ll be fine, sweetheart.” Bryce tugs you to the table with a firm grip on your hand. “I’ll get you a piece, do you like corners or middles?”

You don’t want to tell him about the problem from the last time. Who knows what he’d think of you?

Those worries didn’t only stem from embarrassment, but you grew up in a household where the topic of sex was forbidden. Everything you learnt was from your past boyfriends, mainly Ari since he was your first serious relationship. Openness about the subject was still difficult, regardless of the escapades you and your ex have shared.

“If you have one, I’ll have one too.” Bryce urges, tilting his head like a puppy. “That way neither of us will be alone. Does that seem like a fair bargain, m’lady?” He bows.

Your gaze drops to his thin white shirt, hanging on by two bottom buttons and tucked into the thick belt of his jeans. Sweat glistens on his pale, taut skin, highlighting the dips of his abs. Your grip on the Easter basket tightens as your eyes follow the trail of hair from his chest to his belly button.

Bryce takes advantage of your glazed expression and holds a square to your mouth, cooing softly, “Open up, little bunny.” You make a confused sound and he uses that opportunity to feed you the brownie and tilt your chin, making you take a big chunk of the laced treat. “There we go, a nice big bite for me.”

He’s so close you can count every freckle on his clean-shaven face. Bryce has always been pretty, but with his hair slightly longer and a gold crown atop his head, he’s even prettier.

“So well behaved. Does it taste good?”

You nod wordlessly, not realizing he’s feeding you the rest of the brownie until he turns back to the tray. The rich, chocolate flavour spreads along your tastebuds, it’s gooey and moist, almost making you forget about the other ingredient.

Bryce pops a whole square into his mouth and chews slowly. “Mhm, way better than his last batch.” He washes it down with a sip from a childishly cute monster-themed solo cup. “We should wait a bit before having more.��

“I’ve never had more than one.”

“Then you’re in for a night, bunny.” He flashes a charming smile, all too fitting for his costume. “You’ve got some chocolate, let me get it for you.” He pinches your chin between his fingers and licks his other thumb, then delicately wipes the corner of your lips, as a mother would to a child. The single action brings warmth to your cheeks that only grows hotter when Bryce sucks the same digit into his mouth, his white teeth digging into his knuckle. “Always such a messy girl, I remember how stained your lab coat was just after the first semester.”

“That class was so hard—I don’t think I learnt a thing!”

Of course you didn’t, what could fit in your head other than air?

He doesn’t say that obviously, but he knows it’s true. Everyone on campus knew you were just a ditzy, clueless airhead with an irresistibly sweet personality. Nothing up there but you were plenty to look at with all your sundresses, mini skirts and those fucking tight shirts that you never wore a bra underneath.

You didn’t even know you were collecting people’s hearts like trading cards.

“You look great!” He says instead, reaching out to touch your soft ears. “Give me a spin, sweetheart.”

You giggle and twirl around, showing off your puffy tail and almost tripping over yourself. “Thanks! My friends thought being the Easter bunny was dumb, but I’ve had this nightie forever and wanted to finally wear it—that’s why it’s a little small.” You whisper, gesturing to your breasts.

If you jumped too suddenly, they’d surely spill out and Bryce mmediately thinks of ways to make you hop like a real bunny. “It isn’t dumb, I think you’ve got the best costume here.”

You preen under his praise, smiling so dumbly that you don’t notice his eyes locking on your exposed cleavage. Usually, you’re wearing some fresh hickeys or marks from your boyfriend, all while he wears you on his arm like a shiny bracelet. Levinson knew he had the hottest piece of ass on campus, and he made sure everyone knew you were claimed, like a damn slab of meat.

Bryce hated him but he can’t be upset about that, because he’d treat you the same way.

“I like yours too. You’re the first and only prince I’ve seen all night.”

“Yeah? What’s your boyfriend dressed as?” He cuts to the chase, “I haven’t seen him yet, and you two are usually inseparable.” More like he never let you get more than three feet away.

Your shoulders go slack and if your ears were real, they’d surely do the same. “oh, we broke up…”

Bryce blinks in surprise, caught off guard. A rush of glee fills his body, but he hides it with faux concern, “What? When?” Just like that, your eyes start watering again—and he can’t help but admire how pretty you look when you cry. “Did he break your heart, baby?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, swallowing the lump in your throat, “No, I-I dumped him.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” He isn’t, not one bit. “Do you want to talk about it outside?”

Ari is fucking seething.

Boiling with rage to the point where steam nearly blows from his ears. Under his black hooded robe, his skin is set ablaze as he watches you stumble after the brunet. You’re facing down but his sharp gaze follows those white and pink ears.

He glances at his phone, the delivered sign right under the various text messages sent to you all night. He was checking up on you, making sure you were okay and not getting into trouble.

Just because you were broken up didn’t mean he could instantly stop caring about you—that’s what he told his friends who were still wondering why he was so hung up on you.

“You could get any other girl, man.” Steve rubs his back, the locker room emptier now that most of the team had left.

The rugby team won the game, no surprise there, but while the rest of the guys celebrate the victory, Ari can’t relax. He can barely sit still. The image of the empty seat of the very first row is burned on the inside of his eyelids, patronizing him.

“But, none of them are her.” Curtis dramatically sighs from down the aisle, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. “What? You think just because she was your girl, that I can’t find her hot?”

“The decent thing to do would be to not say it out loud, asshole.”

“Too bad it’s hard to forget a piece of ass like that.” Another unhelpful voice speaks up as a dripping wet brunet emerges from the showers, his long hair still soaked. “I can’t imagine what it’s like having her then losing her.”

“I didn’t lose her.” Ari huffs, tossing aside his phone so he didn’t have to look at the painful one-sided conversations.

“Well, you had her and now you don’t.” Curtis deadpanned. “Sounds like losing her to me.” Bucky finishes with a snort.

Steve, the only one with a heart, tells them to shut up. He hated seeing his childhood best friend so upset. “Have you tried going to her dorm?”

Every damn day. “She’s never there. Always out with her fuckin’ friends. Bunch of dumb sluts, all of them.”

“Your precious bunny included?”

Ari rolls his eyes. “She’s got no brains anyway.”

Bucky laughs, drying his hair with a towel. “You know, it wasn’t her choice. They all pushed her to dump you.” Oh, Ari knows that.

“So technically, she isn’t to blame.” Steve agrees, he tucks his blond hair into a baseball cap. “I knew she wouldn’t make that decision by herself.”

“‘cause she’s stupid?” Curtis smugly wonders, “Because we know that already.”

“No, because she loved him.”

Loved—that isn’t right. You still love him. You had to. You were his sweet girl, his dumb baby, his bunny. He couldn’t fathom you just being you. Someone entirely detached from him, free of his authority and influence.

That kind of independence was high over your head and you’d never reach it no matter how hard you tried. You could climb skyscrapers or trees that kiss the clouds, but it’ll never be enough. You needed him to lift you up and get you there, and fill up your empty little head with a false sense of self-rule.

You should be thankful for him and kiss the ground he walks on, not break his heart over text.

You’d be nothing without him in the same way he was nothing without you.

After you met him, your perceptions and ideas, desires and fears were no longer your own. He fixed the little puzzle in your head, he did all the thinking and decision-making since you clearly couldn’t do it by yourself.

He was electric and charismatic, and you were pure and gullible.

The itty bitty seedling in a field of mature, vibrant flowers. Everyone crowded over you, stealing the golden rays and fresh breeze—that was until Ari came along and tucked you into an ivory pot, and took you home.

He gave you everything you needed and then some, always putting your well-being above his own. He watered you, raised you towards the sun and made you into his slice of heaven. He made it so you couldn’t grow and flourish without him.

Then, you took his heart and stomped on it like a bug.

“She’s just an airhead who does whatever people tell her.” Curtis affirms, “Ain’t nothing up there but pixie dust and cotton candy.”

Ari can’t deny that. He knows all too well about your naive obedience to orders and your wide-eyed, credulous view of the world. You were always focusing on the bright side, always holding other people’s opinions above your own—that’s what made it so easy to drill the hunger for his acceptance into your head.

Bucky hums, “If anything, you’ve got to get even with her friends. If they’re out of the picture, who do you think she’ll run back to?”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: hehe I think i'm in my sleazy daddy and airhead!reader era. i bet you aren't ready for ari fucking reader in mating press.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! see you on oct. 6 for part two !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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deadlymistletoe · 9 months

Text

Concerning Hobbits

Pairing: Fili x hobbit f!reader

Request: Anonymous asked: Hello! I absolutely ADORE your writing! Could I request a Fili fic where the reader is a hobbit and really close friends with Bilbo so he has brought them with him to Erebor several times and between their last visit and their current visit Fili has been exchanging letters with Bilbo to learn about Hobbit courting etiquette so he can ask the reader out?

A/N:I hope you enjoy it! I'm honoured you trusted me with this request, especially since I haven't written for Fili before.

Genre: Fluff/romance

Description: Fili enlists the help of Bilbo to learn about hobbit courting customs in order to ask you out in the best way possible.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1471

You’d always been close to Bilbo, he was like a brother to you, so it was only natural that you thoroughly questioned him when he came back months after disappearing so suddenly.

His tale fascinated you, more than it should fascinate a respectable hobbit. You asked questions, about the elves, about the mountain, about Smaug, but most of all, about his 13 companions, the dwarves.

You’d never met anyone who wasn’t a hobbit, but ever since you were young you’d had a fascination with the race of dwarves, reading books about them, begging your parents to bring you back hand-crafted items the dwarves in Bree were selling.

So yes, it was only expected that you would be most interested in Bilbo’s companions - how you wished you’d been able to meet them. But most particularly, you were fascinated by the Durin’s, especially the golden-haired prince who’s good nature and humour Bilbo would fondly talk about.

Therefore, when Bilbo casually mentioned returning to Erebor to visit his friends you immediately begged to go with him. Knowing how much it would mean to you, particularly with your birthday coming up as you so kindly reminded him, he agreed, and one letter to the dwarf king later the two of you were on the road.

To everyone’s (or no-one’s) surprise, you and Fili hit it off immediately. The golden-haired prince had taken an instant liking to you and you to him.

The second visit was much the same, except the relationship between the two of you only grew stronger as you grew closer and closer to the line between friends and something more.

Both of you were beginning to feel things for each other that went beyond friendship, but neither of you said anything as you left with Bilbo once more, this time with a promise to write.

Neither of you noticed the knowing glance Thorin and Bilbo had shared, and after you left, Fili had been subjected to endless teasing from his brother until Tauriel of all people had taken pity on the heir and reminded Kili that he was just as smitten, if not more.

In the weeks after the trip, you and Fili had sent letter after letter to each other, and when Bilbo mentioned taking you on another visit you’d instantly agreed, the blond still vivid in your mind.

What Bilbo didn’t tell you, was that you weren’t the only one who had been in regular contact with Fili. Ever since he had returned to Bag End his mailbox had been full of letters from Fili asking all kinds of questions about hobbits and their courting customs.

It was bad enough reading and answering the incredibly long letters that seemed to revolve around you, but he also had to hide them from you - something that was quite difficult since you’d often bring in his mail for him when you came over for breakfast, forcing him to wake up even earlier to snatch any letters Fili should send before you came over.

In the end, he had sent a thick book regarding hobbits and their customs which had seemed to satisfy the dwarf for the foreseeable future.

Now, he was finally taking you to Erebor again, and you were beyond excited. Little did you know, but Fili, upon hearing of your visit, had been a flustered mess, his usually calm demeanour seemingly gone as he scoured the text in the book over and over as he scurried to make sure that everything was perfect as he anticipated your arrival.

No one commented when your greeting with Fili was far from ‘formal’, his arms winding around your waist as he lifted you from the ground and spun you around, your laugh ringing through the air, your curls bouncing when he set you down.

It wasn’t until later that Fili asked you if he could show you something and the two of you excused yourselves from the company.

You completely missed Kili’s encouraging wink and thumbs up to his brother from behind your back.

Fili didn’t tell you where he was leading you as he led you through halls you’d never seen before. You were about to ask when he pulled open a door, gesturing for you to step through and you stepped into perhaps the most beautiful part of Erebor you’d seen.

It was a terrace, or courtyard of sorts, jutting out from the mountain and looking over Dale, but it wasn’t the view that amazed you most.

The terrace was more like a garden, with grass instead of stone and all sorts of brightly coloured flowers blooming in various places - some you recognised, some you didn’t.

You turned to Fili, a bright smile adorning your face. “This is amazing. Has this always been here?”

He shifted, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sort of. It was awful when I first found it. I’ve been fixing it up since your last visit. I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it!” You assured him, walking further out, relishing the feeling of glass tickling your feet again as you headed towards the only non-plant in the place; a yellow picnic rug set out with your favourite foods.

Fili followed you to the rug, watching you sit down and look admiringly at the food.

“Did you make this too?” You asked, half joking.

To your surprise he didn’t object. “Bombour helped. I hope it’s alright.”

You stared at him for a moment. Did he realise that in The Shire something like this would be seen as an intention to court? Or was he just being friendly? You smiled. “I’m sure it will be.”

As you ate, you couldn’t help but notice that Fili was acting a bit strangely. Yes, he would laugh and smile, but he fidgeted when he thought you weren’t looking and only picked at the food.

You set your plate aside. “Is there a reason for all this? Or am I just that good a friend?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean…” He sighed, seemingly building up his courage before he faced you. “Maybe this will tell you what I mean.

He reached behind him to pick up a bouquet which he then held out to you.

You accepted the bundle of carefully picked flowers, a few immediately sticking out to you. Red roses, both white and pink camellias, red carnations, orchids and tulips.

Clearly, in the eyes of a hobbit, a declaration of love and adoration.

You glanced up at the blond, who was watching you with a hopeful expression. “You know, in The Shire, this sort of thing would be considered a clear intention to court. A declaration of love, even.”

“And what would you say if that’s exactly what it is?”

You smiled, leaning across to place a quick kiss to his lips before leaning back, watching the expression of surprise and happiness cross Fili’s face. “I’d say I accept and the feelings are returned.”

He smiled, leaning closer to brush a stay piece of hair behind your slightly pointed ear, letting his fingers linger. “That’s good, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

He kissed you again, this time lingering longer, the remaining food all but forgotten as your grip on the bouquet loosened and you leaned into the kiss.

You’d be lying to say that you’d never thought about what the Prince’s lips would feel like against yours, how his beard would brush against your skin, and it was safe to say that this surpassed even your wildest dreams.

Fili pulled away, blue eyes shining. “Maybe later I can show you our courting customs.”

“I’d like that.” You murmured. “How did you know all this stuff?” You asked, glancing down to admire the bundle of flowers in your hands again.

“I asked Bilbo.” Fili admitted. “And he sent me a book.”

“What book?” You questioned with a smile. You found it adorable that he’d put in so much effort for you.

He grinned back. “Concerning Hobbits.”

Bilbo wasn’t surprised when you nervously pulled him aside the day before you were to leave, glancing anxiously at Fili over the other hobbit’s shoulder, who nodded encouragingly. He’d already talked to his uncle, who had agreed that you should be the one to talk to Bilbo.

“Bilbo?” You began, “Bilbo, I’m not ready to go home. I want to stay here…with Fili…” At his silence you rushed on. “I don’t want to upset you, and I’ll miss you but-”

Your long time friend wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I understand. You don’t need to explain yourself.” He pulled back, smiling at you. “I’m happy for you.”

So with a promise to visit again soon and one last hug, Bilbo left Erebor, and you remained behind, Fili’s warm hand around yours as you returned his radiant smile.

Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @bookworm-with-coffee

#imagines #the hobbit #female reader #Fili #fili durin #fili x reader #my writing

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the-really-lonely-mountain · 3 months

Text

Along for The Ride - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Summary: Transported to Middle Earth, you must Join Thorin Oakenshield's Company as they travel to reclaim Erebor! OR: My take on the classic 'modern girl in Middle Earth' troupe. With this first installment, we are following the first movie of The Hobbit trilogy, and falling in love with Kili on the way! The final installment for the first movie.

Tags: Kili / Reader, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Modern Character in Middle Earth, During The Hobbit, How Do I Tag, Canon-Typical Violence, Kíli Is a Little Shit (Tolkien), wrote this while I had covid, in like 4 days lol, implied soulmates, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Freeform, Holding Hands, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Thorin Oakenshield Company Members, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Where In Middle-Earth Is Gandalf?, Hair Braiding, Dwarf Courting, My First Tumblr Fic, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Live, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Fíli Lives (Tolkien), Kíli Lives (Tolkien)

Word Count: 3,717

A/N: I was utterly appalled by the lack of Kili writers on here and Ao3. Y'all who write for Kili, I've been eating your crumbs like it's the shit (cause it is) for weeks, but one can't be sustained on crumbs alone so I've prepared a feast!! This is the first fic I've ever wanted to post, please be gentle. Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are loved and treasured!!

Image credit: @skyfullofsong123

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

“Go wake the love birds will ya,” Bofur said to Nori while packing his things.

“Kili, Y/N, Time to wake up.” Nori gently shook your shoulder where Kili’s hand held you.

You suddenly woke with a startled, “Gaah!” Head butting Kili awake in the process.

“Aahgg” Kili held his lip where you’d hit him in your daze, “Y/N!?”

“Sorry, Kee!” You quickly apologized, resisting the urge to shoo his hand away so you could examine the wound yourself. Nori laughed lightly at your pain.

“Feeling better, Y/N?” Bofur asked from across the cave, “Had us worried.” Kili pushed your legs off him so he could start packing.

“Awe you guys” You smiled “I’m feeling much better thanks to my space heater” You thanked Kili in a roundabout way.

“Always happy to help.” He replied smiling despite his slightly swollen lower lip. He handed you your coat in exchange for his bedding. You put on your now dry coat (elvish material must dry fast) and packed your bedding. You donned your bag and joined the others as they discussed the upcoming anticipated terrain for the day. Bilbo seemed particularly out of it beside you while Thorin talked about the expected route of travel.

“What’s that Bilbo?” You asked pointing with your eyes to the blue glow around this sword. He had enough time to look at it then you in panic before the floor gave way beneath you.

You slid into a tunnel that rolled and slid you further into the mountain. The company yelled and grunted as they were thrown this way and that by the smooth curves and drops. As quick as it started you were dropped into a basket of sorts with little cushioning. Everyone groaned at the bruises that would surely appear.

“LOOK OUT!” Someone yelled making the company scramble in panic as a hoard of goblins sculked toward you.

“OH MY GOD!” You exclaimed in horror at their appearance. The company tried to fight them off but were quickly overrun. The goblins snarled as they mobbed you, dragging everyone to their feet by pulling on clothes, limbs, anything. The sniveling creatures pushed you forward through a corridor of other nasty dirty goblins creating a river of utter dreadfulness.

Time it suddenly slowed. A moth fluttered in front of you and in a voice that sounded like the wizard was saying: “…or. Gandalf. Stall. For. Gandalf. Stall. For. Gandalf. Stall. For. Gan...” Time resumed its normal pace when the moth was out of your earshot. You turned to try to follow it, having to fight against the grabby hands that held you back.

“Oof!” you ran into Kili almost tripping on him.

“Y/N, what are you looking at?” He tried to follow your gaze but didn’t see the moth.

“The wizard is coming we need to stall—” You were cut off by the creatures pushing you forward again grumbling to keep moving. “Tell the others!” You had to shout to him.

While the rest of the company shouted helpful things like ‘Get back!’, ‘You’ll pay for this!’ and ‘Unhand me!’ you opted for something more ‘HOLY SHIT THESE FUCKERS ARE UGLY!’. These concerns you vocalized quite loudly hoping to get a rise out of them.

“Ew ew ew!” You shoved at your captors “This is so gross!” Your shrill scream was rising in pitch but so much was happening that you didn’t notice its effect on the goblins near you. They kept pushing you forward, chittering at you as you passed.

You were funneled into a large open space that looked like a beehive with how the disgusting things were lining the walls and strung about in the air. You were stopped on a round platform in front of a huge goblin. Your weapons were dropped a few feet in front of the group.

“That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen,” you said looking at the corpulent mass of flesh and borderline decay before you. “That is truly a face only a mother could love.” The company chuckled, trying to be serious but failing.

“Who dares enter my kingdom armed?” The moving sack of meat said, looking at you all.

“Holy shit! It can talk!” You exclaimed, truly surprised by this turn of events.

“It?! I am the king of these parts!” He said, making his subjects loud and rowdy.

“I assume the role is inherited cause no one would willingly elect you, Jesus!” You had to look away before your eyes burned. “Sorry, my brain is just having a hard time coping with how ugly you all are” You closed your eyes and rubbed your temples.

“They are dwarves, your malevolence,” An underling said to his king.

“Don’t just stand there! Search them!” He commanded his hoard.

Clammy fingers groped everywhere on your person making you scream at the sudden defilement. The goblins covered their ears at your high pitch, releasing you and the company from their search.

“Now you listen here you ugly piece of shit” You marched right up to the edge of your group to properly address the king “That was completely uncalled for! Ordering your subjects to violate us when we’d already been searched on the way here!” You pointed to the weapons on the floor in front of him.

“Well excuse me for wanting to be thorough, she-dwarf” the king threw what he thought was an insult of his own at you. “And what business do you have in my kingdom?” He asked.

Before anyone else could respond you crossed your arms and said: “Non ya”

“Non ya? What’s non ya?” The king was utterly confused, and so were the dwarves behind you if their murmuring was anything to go by.

“Non ya business” You simply replied with a smirk. The dwarves erupted in a choir of ‘Ooohh’s, even patting you on the shoulder and laughing at your wordplay. The king looked scandalized, huffing and puffing in anger.

“If you will not talk, we’ll make you squawk!” The large goblin said with far too much joy, “Bring up the bone-breaking mangler! We’ll start with the impertinent she-dwarf” He pointed at you making panic race down your spine.

“Wait!” Thorin yelled stepping forward to pull you by the collar of your shirt back into the safety of the group.

“Well, if it isn’t Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror! King under the mountain!” The ugly creature bowed in mock respect, “Oh, but you don’t have a mountain, which makes you no one really.”

You weren’t the only one seething in anger from the disrespect.

“I know someone who would pay a very pretty price for your head,” the disgusting veiny king said.

“Awe you guys” Dwalin suddenly piped up, “He thinks Thorin’s pretty!” making the group laugh.

“ERG! Insolent dwarves! The pale orc doesn’t need anything attached to your head for payment” The king under this mountain suddenly turned smug, “Perhaps you know of whom I speak, He sits astride a white Warg, an old enemy of yours.”

“Azog the defiler is dead,” Thorin said slightly defensively. “He died in battle long ago.”

“So, you think his defiling days are over, do you?” The king turned to his scribe who hung off the edge of the platform. “Tell Azog I have his prize” The subordinate goblin chittered and swung away.

Fili pulled you to him and Bifur, “I thought you said Gandalf was coming,” he loudly whispered.

“He is, we need to stall for longer” You tried your best to keep the worried waver from your voice.

A rhythmic thumping started rattling the suspended platform. Everyone looked over to see a large torture device being rolled towards you. The king started singing an honestly catchy tune if it hadn’t been about how your bones would be shattered and from racks you’d be hung. The devices kept rolling closer, and the goblins jumped and jostled against you all.

A goblin off to the side shrieked and threw Thorin’s blade down.

“Tha-that’s the goblin cleaver!” The king scampered to his thrown, away from the discarded blade, “Kill them! Beat them! Break them!”

The underlings wailed against the company. Dwalin and Kili covered you, so they’d take the brunt of your attacks.

Suddenly a pure white light burst from the center of the platform, throwing everyone and everything back.

“We must take up arms!” Gandalf stepped forward “FIGHT!” His battle cry brought the company out of their stunned daze. Kili grabbed your hand as you both stood.

“Stay with the group!” He told you. The look in his eyes promised to protect you. He caught his sword at the hilt, swinging it to cut an attacking goblin down.

“I’ll keep up” You replied confident in your abilities. Weapons were thrown and exchanged in a wonderous display of practiced coordination, wiping out most of the creatures that detained you.

“Follow me.” Gandalf called the company to him, “Quickly! RUN!” He yelled, leading the dwarves across a bridge as mobs of goblins pursued you. It was all a bit of a blur. You ran and ran while the dwarves fought off attackers, chopping their heads off in one swift blow and pushing their bodies from the path.

“POST!” Dwalin yelled reaching down to pick up a pole, you helped pick it up alongside a few of the other dwarves. You all pushed and pulled it, knocking handfuls of goblins out of the way. The post was dropped so the warriors could use their weapons. Everyone was fighting so well…everyone except you. When the group started running again you did too.

‘That’s one thing I’m good at I guess’ you thought.

You stopped beside Gandalf as the others caught up. Kili ran across a ladder and jumped off in front of you with an odd smile.

“What’s a girl like you doin’ in a cavern like this!” He grinned at you as you all started running.

“Is—” You couldn’t help but laugh a little “Was that a pick-up line? In the middle of battle?!” You yelled at him with a smile.

He jumped over a recently deceased goblin, looked back at you, and winked. You scoffed in disbelief despite your blush. You all followed the wizard to the end of a walkway when the rope was severed, sending it swinging through the air toward the other side of the crevasse. Several dwarves jumped off at the first pass, but you were stuck on the swinging pendulum. It swung back to the goblin-filled walkway you just left, picking some up on the way. On the return swing, you jumped off. Kili caught you; you were ready for your comeback.

“Fancy seeing you here” You smirked at him as the company scrambled from the now-falling swing. He laughed a little as he ran, cutting down goblins with every swipe of his mighty blade.

The ground changed from creaky wood boards to jagged rock. Gandalf stabbed an overhang with his staff, dislodging a boulder that rolled down the slope. You and several others pushed it to help it gain speed, following behind it as it mowed down every revolting creature in its path till it fell from a cliff into the depths. The company kept running and fighting off the hoards. A goblin-less part of the wooden scaffolding was quickly filled in as you approached it.

The goblin king erupted from below the wood boards, just in front of the line of dwarves.

“HOLY SHIT!” You yelled startled. You were now trapped on all sides.

“You can’t escape me!” He sneered down at Gandalf, “What are you going to do now Wizard?” the large goblin looked down at him.

Gandalf thrust his staff into his large bleary eye causing him to reel back and howl in pain, exposing his round belly. The Wizard took the opportunity and slashed him across the stomach, bringing the filthy creature to his knees.

“That’ll do it,” The king said grimly just before Gandalf slit his throat. The dead weight lurched forward causing the wood boards beneath the company to shake. The scaffolding gave way beneath you all. Everyone screamed as the structure slid down the bumpy rock. It was wedged between the narrowing rockfaces which slowed its descent before it crashed down and collapsed. You and the wizard stood, thankfully not held down by the rubble. Everyone groaned under the weight of the boards.

“That coulda been worse,” Bofur said. In a twist of fate, it got much worse for those still stuck because the enormous weight of the goblin king crashed onto them. Groans and curses were muttered by all as they removed themselves from the planks.

“GANDALF!” Kili yelled upon seeing the ocean of angry goblins running at full speed toward them. You were helping the others to their feet.

“We can’t fight them all,” Dwalin said helping his bother.

“Daylight is the only thing that can save us,” The wizard said, desperate to get out of the caves, “Come on!” You all started running again as you followed the wizard to safety.

“I see it!” Ori exclaimed pointing to the pinprick of sunlight beaming from the other side of the corridor. You were running as hard as you could but were slowing just the slightest. The company burst from the cave as the sun was painting the sky with its last rays.

You slowed as you made your way down the mountainside. Gandalf took a head count while everyone caught their breath.

“Where’s Bilbo?” He asked the group “Where’s our Hobbit?”

“I think I saw him slip away when they first captured us,” Nori said.

“Slip away?!” Gandalf said exasperated, “What do you mean? Explain yourself!”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Thorin said sounding agitated, “Master Baggins saw his chance and took it. He’s thought of nothing but his warm bed and hearth since he first stepped out of his hobbit hole. He is long gone by now.” Everyone looked around not knowing how to feel.

You felt sad, he was good company and a welcomed change from the sometimes coarse mannerisms of the dwarfs.

“No, he isn’t,” Bilbo appeared from behind a tree.

“I have never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life” Gandalf approached him with a glad smile.

“We’d given you up!” Kili said in disbelief.

“How’d you get past the goblins?” Fili asked with admiration and curiosity.

“How indeed” Dwalin repeated.

“Well, what does it matter” Gandalf tried to turn the conversation elsewhere, “He’s back.”

“It does matter” Thorin overruled Gandalf's words, “Why did you come back?”

“I know you’ve always doubted me,” Bilbo said to him “And you’re right, I miss my books and my armchair and my garden. That’s where I belong, I have a home to go back to, and that’s why I came back, cause you don’t have one…a home. It was taken from you. And I want to help you take it back if I can.”

Meanwhile, you are off to the side panting your little heart out from all that running.

Wargs howled in the distance.

“RUN!” Gandalf yelled. You could barely move, exhausted from the previous run.

“Oh lass,” Dori, ever the mother hen, trotted beside you as you made your best attempt at running, “Hop on” He leaned over so you could jump on his back. You hesitated.

“Are…you…sure” You panted. You were picked up by Oin and Gloin and placed onto Dori’s back. He immediately picked up speed catching up with the rest of the group. You could hear the Wargs snarling as they drew closer. The group slowed as they reached the edge of the cliff.

“Up into the trees!” Gandalf yelled, “Climb!”

Dori, this absolute unit, climbed the tree with you on his back. He passed you to a branch as Wargs circled the tree below. They began jumping up into the lower branches, chomping them down and shaking the tree.

“You alright Y/N?” Kili asked from a branch above yours.

“Peachy!” You replied sarcastically. Your tree began leaning. The Wargs jumped against it knocking it into the tree beside it. You all jumped into the still-standing tree, but it was no sooner knocked over into the next. You all jumped again making the tree slowly lean over the side of the cliff. Gandalf began passing flaming pinecones to everyone to throw at the attacking Wargs, catching their muzzles and the underbrush on fire. The Wargs retreated but a new problem arose. The tree everyone was in began to fall over. Those on the wrong side hung above a large drop. Thorin ran from the tree to challenge Azog. He was swiftly brought down. Before the Warg could make the final chomp on the company leader, Thorin slashed it across the nose making it drop him. An orc was ordered to behead him. As he lined up his blade to make the final blow, Bilbo tackled him. He stabbed the offending orc in the chest and stomach multiple times. You pulled yourself into a more secure position, so you were lying on your stomach against the tree.

“Y/N” Kili called to you reaching for your hand. You helped pull him onto the tree trunk, then helped Fili up too. The three of you pulled some of the other dwarves up together. Kili grabbed your waist to shift you so he could get around you on the narrow tree. You didn’t have time to dwell on the blush it created as the dwarves ran into battle to protect Thorin and Bilbo. You watched from the relative safety of the tree.

Watching Kili with the heat of battle rage in his eyes was extremely arousing to your surprise. He looked natural with a sword which made you wonder why Fili would say he wasn’t.

A sudden shriek of an eagle from above startled you. Talons plucked you and Gandalf from the tree and then dropped you onto the back of a huge eagle. The rest of the company joined on the backs of eagles as well. Thorin was knocked out in the talons of one.

In the sky of the setting sun, you were beside the wizard as you flew.

“Now that we have a moment,” Gandalf said, “We have much to discuss, my dear.”

On the back of the enormous eagle, Gandalf explained what he had learned. If someone from each world experiences an equal amount of loneliness and yearning at the same time, and the universe deems them a favorable couple, the person from your world would be allowed transport to Middle Earth. When they touch the staff, they appear next to the wizard who is closest to their counterpart. Fate brings the two together every time. He wasn't told of a way to return to your world because none had ever wanted to do so, but if you wished him to, he could find a way.

“I think I just need some time to process all this if you don’t mind,” you said not wanting to offend him. You wanted to be alone with your thoughts for a while.

“Not at all my dear,” He smiled, admiring your strength in the face of new developments.

The eagles flew the company over beautiful mountains in a sky painted by the rising sun. It was stunning. You didn’t know how long you were flying, so caught up in your thoughts.

The birds began circling a rock that stood above the forest below. Thorin was gingerly placed by the eagle. You and Gandalf landed on the rock next. Both of you ran over to the company leader to see how bad his injuries were. The other members began trickling onto the rock. They watched as the wizard said some foreign words over Thorin, making him wake. He asked if Bilbo was alright. He stood and went on about how he doubted him, but you rushed over to Kili after he’d landed toward the back of the group.

“Are you ok? You’re not hurt, are you?” You looked him over, moving his thick coat to make sure he wasn’t hiding a wound.

“I’m ok! I promise!” he smiled and took your hand in his, “How bout you, are you ok?” You’d never know how much he wanted to put his hand on your cheek in that moment and kiss you.

“Of course, I’m fine” you squeezed his hands a little, “I’m not the one who went running into battle,” you said in worried scrutiny. The memories of him fighting the orcs flashed vividly through your suddenly aroused mind. He must have noticed the way you subtly bit your lip and looked at him through your lashes.

“Oh, just admit it” He smirked mischievously at you looking into your eyes, “You liked it” he whispered in that deep gruff tone that you were beginning to like very much.

Everyone cheered and you turned to see Thorin hugging Bilbo. You were happy they were getting along. After Thorin pulled back, his eyes locked onto something in the distance. Everyone followed his gaze as he walked up the rock face.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo said in disbelief. You all followed Thorin to get a better look.

A solitary break in the line of the horizon was a stark contrast against the vibrant colors of the rising sun. A lonely mountain sat apart from the rest, so very far away.

“Erebor,” Gandalf introduced you all to your destination, “The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.”

“Our home,” Thorin said with pride and a little relief. A bird flew past, chirping delightfully.

“The birds are returning to the mountain,” Oin said pointing to it. You grazed your hand against Kili’s and let it linger there while you watched the bird flutter away.

“That, my dear Oin, is a Thrush” Gandalf stated. Kili turned his hand so his pinkie could reach to find yours.

“But we’ll take it as a sign,” Thorin looked at Bilbo, “A good omen.” Everyone took in the view and prepared themselves for the next push to the mountain.

You wrapped your pinkie around Kili’s. You couldn’t keep your happy smile from your lips. You knew you were acting like a silly little schoolgirl; he brought it out in you in the best ways.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

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iwillstealyourjawbone · 4 months

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My fic for the MCYTblr Holiday Exchange! For @hydrobugz, beta'd by the wonderful @blocky-tides

Grian Dreamslayer, Ex-Watcher and Evo Admin, was bored. His executive function had decided that he didn’t need to be productive in the time he had set aside for working. No, instead his useless brain thought that what he really needed was to lie on some chests and let his thoughts run, because that always turned out great.

He considered going to bother X, but didn’t want to get up from his (uncomfortable but simultaneously the only place he could be without becoming even more restless and despondent) sprawl across one of his several chest monsters.

He was just dozing off when he was QUITE RUDELY awoken by one ImpulseSV yelling in his ear.

“Grian Grian Grian Grian Grian wake up! Wake up!”

Halfheartedly swatting him away, he rolled over to try to see what was going on, but forgot that he had sprawled on the edge of his chest monster, and fell flat on his face. Onto Impulse’s boots. 0 stars, would not recommend. The laces hurt your face. Grian should make laceless boots, they’d be better to fall on.

“Gri? You gonna move, bud?”

Oh yeah. Impulse.

“No, I live here now.”

Problem solved. Grian wins. At life. Yeah.

“Grian, I will call Gem. You don’t want to get Gem angry, right? Remember what happened to Etho. You need to build the back of Dwayne. It’s an eyesore, and Scar just built a castle, you can build half a base,” Impulse said, presumably staring down at him with a stern look on his face.

“Nooooooooooo :(“ Grian whined, pouting. Rolling closer to Impulse so that he laid curled around Impulse’s legs.

“How did you make that sound with your face. Grian. Grian how,” Impulse said, a look of utter horror written across his features.

“Don’t worry about it!” Grian said, grinning in a way that stretched his void-black eyes just so to strike fear into even a mines-hardened dwarf like Impulse.

“Grian,” He half-pleaded, half-sighed, a weary look on his face, the look of a man who has seen the Horrors (Grian, sleep deprived).

“:)”

Suffice to say, Grian didn’t have to finish the back of his base, and instead chugged a Slowness potion right after a Weakness to send himself into the closest thing he had to the sweet release of death on a respawn server, sleep. Doing that in the middle of the day had the unfortunate side effect of making him wake up at 3 AM and go for a night walk, terrifying Cub, who just wanted some water.

“Hey Xisuma!” Grian said, sock-sliding into the room where the poor overworked admin was sitting at his desk doing smart-people work.

“What now, Grian,” Xisuma sighed, already anticipating Grian’s antics, spinning around in his gamer chair. (He denied it’s true nature, but Grian and Pearl had gotten it for him in the first place, it was supposed to help with posture, and the description that the seller had given it was ‘Posture Correcting Chair for Gamers’, so there Xisuma)

“Your desk is very messy for someone who works on code, notably not on paper,” Grian said, fully off-topic from what he originally came in to do.

“Why are you of all people here, Grian? Normally you avoid me at all costs until you’ve finished the back of your base, which you haven’t done. So what is your plan here, Gri?” Xisuma said, tenting his fingers like one of those old-timey movie villains.

“You look like that old guy, what's-his-face … DR EVIL! That's it. You look like Dr Evil. You know, from the movies?” Grian clapped his hands in a satisfied manner at having figured that out. “Anyways, I was wondering for no particular reason if you knew how to sew or weave anything, just for funsies.” Grian tried to look innocent, but Xisuma had seen him in the midst of prank wars several times too often to be fooled, and had to clean up his messes far too many times.

“Grian, go build your base. I can tell from experience when you are hiding something or trying to get out of doing something, and right now, I see both. Stop procrastinating.” Xisuma said sternly, turning back to his Very Important Server Business and leaving Grian to find his way out of his base.

“Fine, I’ll just ask Pearl, I didn’t need you anyways, Ixay-Soomay-Vhoyad. Harrumph.” Grian muttered, standing there for a few moments waiting for Xisuma to change his mind. When Xisuma didn’t, Grian turned around, striding out of the base, arms crossed and nose scrunched up angrily.

Grian shot off a rocket to propel himself over Decked Out 2, taking a moment to admire just how much effort had gone and was still going into it. He waved to Tango, who was working on the exterior of the base, doing a loop-de-loop in the air as the blazeborne smiled up at him, then continued on his journey to the lands of Soup, also known as Gem, Impulse, and Pearl’s bases.

A few minutes later, he alighted atop the great alien fungus that one PearlescentMoon called home, and (after sneezing a few times, alien pollen apparently still triggers allergies) began trying to get his friend to snap out of her building focus.

“PEARL HELP!”

That should do the trick.

Sure enough, a second later he spotted her take off from her workplace on some rocks, and fly towards him.

“Grian, what? What’s happening? Why did you yell? Are you okay?” She said, landing next to him with her sword out, scanning the area for any danger.

“I didn’t want to walk around looking for you, your base is too big!” He said, bouncing over and bumping his head against her shoulder affectionately.

“Grina, you scared me, jeez. You are such a nugget.” She chided, putting her sword away and slumping.

“Sorry… anyways, do you know where I can acquire a bolt of fabric large enough to cover an area the size of the back of a base, for reasons of shenanigans?” Grian asked.

“Oooo, what shenanigans? I want in!” Pearl replied, excited with the prospect of a reprieve from her work.

Grian hesitated. Pearl was one of the most dedicated builders on the server, and he knew from personal experience that she was more than capable of knocking some sense into him if she thought he needed it.

Pearl gave him a knowing look, “You’re procrastinating.”

It wasn’t a question.

“My base,” Grian sighed. The cat was out of the bag, he might as well go all in.

“Gri, I’m not going to lecture you, because I know you know what I’m going to say, and when Xisuma gets on your tail about it you’re going to hear the unabridged version whether you like it or not. Now, all that said, what were you planning on doing with those large amounts of fabric?”

“I was going to fashion it up into a cape to cover the back of my base and call it finished,” Grian said, slightly sheepish but knowing that Pearl would find the idea hilarious.

Sure enough, Pearl bonked her head against his and let out a laugh, “Gri! Oh, that’s amazing.”

He was about to ask if she would help him even still when she grabbed his arm and started dragging him over to her giant mushroom house.

“C’mon Grian! We’re having SOUP!”

[JoeHills] hey grian, are you available to help me get wood? behind cleo’s base

[Grian] sure! omw

Grian rocketed through the Nether tunnels, beautifully built by Tango and his helpers, and one of the best ways to get around. As he came up on Cleo’s portal, he sent a quick message to Joe.

[Grian] @ cleo’s portal

[Grian] almost there

Shaking off the vertigo that always accompanied going though Nether Portals, he emerged into the daylight, only to be met with a stern looking XisumaVoid and one JoeHills standing behind him, looking slightly ashamed.

“Sorry, Grian! He made me do it.” Joe said, running back to his base.

“Grian,” Xisuma stated. “You can’t put it off forever, the season’s almost over. You and I both know it will haunt you forever if you don’t finish before we leave.”

He was right, however much Grian didn’t want to admit it.

“I know, but ‘Suma-”

“No ‘buts’, Grian!”

Hehe. Butts.

“Fine, I’ll go try and get some work done, but you know how it is. No guarantees, never guarantees.” He said, all the defiance seeping out of him and leaving a quiet tiredness behind.

“That’s all I can ask for, Grian.”

“Do you have chocolate to give me in exchange?” Grian asked, not expecting anything to come of it but still wanting to try.

“I have chocolate!” Cleo said from around the corner, having apparently been there the whole time.

“Give please,” Grian said, making grabby hands towards her, moving on quickly from her eavesdropping and leaving the bad vibes behind, he didn’t need that in his life.

The chocolate was very good, it was the fancy dark chocolate that melted on your tongue and that Grian would kill and die for.

“Cleo, we’ve talked about this! Listening to other people’s conversations is not okay.” Xisuma said, not over the negativity. He needed some crystals, Grian had heard somewhere that citrine might be good for calming? He wasn’t sure. It helped with something!

“Chocolate?” Cleo asked, ignoring Xisuma, he wasn’t the boss of her. Snapping off a piece, she handed it to the admin.

“Are you trying to bribe me?” Xisuma asked incredulously.

“Is it working?”

In the commotion of an increasingly weary Xisuma trying to impart some life lessons onto Cleo, Grian managed to slip away and headed back to his base to ‘work on his base’ (aka go find Jellie for some stress relief).

Grian rolled over in his bed, groaning as the sunlight hit his eyes. He usually had the curtains closed, that’s weird.

“Grian! Wake up!” Gem exclaimed.

Why was Gem here?

“All the Hermits are here! We’re going to help you build your base!”

Okay then.

Wait. What? His base?

“Pearl, X, and Joe helped arrange it! It’s our Hermits Helping Hermits project this week.”

That makes sense.

Gem ran outside, and Grian followed somewhat bemusedly and still tired from being abruptly woken up. As he stepped out onto his scaffolding, he stopped dead in his tracks.

All the Hermits were there. Gem wasn’t kidding. Cub and Cleo seemed to be competing over who could place trapdoors the fastest, while Joe fueled both the argument from the sidelines working in a crafting table where he was rapidly filling double chests with materials.

To their right, Impulse, Etho, and Tango were laughing while Bdubs squawked indignantly, most likely the (lighthearted) butt of a joke.

Directly beneath them were Mumbo and Scar, who seemed to have gotten distracted, with Mumbo looking over Scar’s prosthetic supports for his back and legs while Scar waved his hands as he did when he was off on a tangent. Even from a distance, Grian could hear the words ‘Stormtroopers’ and ‘rides’, so he could make an educated guess that he was talking about Scar’s recurring hyperfixation, Disneyland.

The other Hermits were scattered around, all laughing and chatting and working on parts of the base.

He was snapped back to the present by Xisuma and Pearl landing right in front of him and Gem. Pearl beaming and Xisuma’s body language conveying happiness too, albeit a little more reserved.

“Pearl, ‘Suma, this is amazing! I- You- Why-. I have no words.”

Not knowing how to articulate the unabashed joy he felt at all his friends coming together to help him, he surged forward and enveloped them both in a hug.

He stayed there, trying to regain his composure, for longer than he would like to admit, but eventually he pulled away.

“C’mon, nobody’s working on the roofs yet!”

#hermitcraft #grian #holiday exchange #my first fic :D #happy holidays yall #have some fluff

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bcdrawsandwrites · 7 months

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[ID: The first image Psychonauts fanfic banner on a black-to-gray gradient background. On the left in white text it says “Prompt #7: What Have I Done?” On the right is a bright red animated figment of an open Psycho-Portal with scribbles inside.

The second image is a Bad Things Happen Bingo card. Various prompts are marked with a half-brain (prompt requested but not filled) or full-brain (prompt requested and finished) symbol, while the “What Have I Done” prompt specifically is marked with a full brain symbol. /end ID]

And now after NOT taking multiple months, here’s the next fic in my @badthingshappenbingo challenge!

I am currently NO LONGER OPEN FOR REQUESTS. I have enough to work on to get a bingo! I MAY decide to reopen prompts later if I want to keep going after finishing these fics, but for now, requests are closed!

This prompt requested by @jaywings, who also beta-read, as did @portalcartoon! (Also thanks to @mechmolar who's been animating my gif frames since Photoshop stopped working for me.)

Prompt: What Have I Done Characters: Ford Cruller, Lucrecia Mux, other Psychic 7 members Warnings: Implied death/murder, implied drug use

---~~~---

The first time Ford sees her on that warm summer night, the rest of the world turns fuzzy. Her eyes catch his immediately, and his heart flutters, his face flushing. She hasn't even spoken yet, and already something about her is making him smile like an idiot. It takes him a moment to realize Otto has been talking. With a jolt and a stutter he asks Otto to repeat his words, but his friend's voice only fades into the background once again, and Ford's gaze is on her once more.

He can't help but notice, she's smiling too.

—-

Otto is saying something, but he can't hear him. The world has turned fuzzy, and all he can see is Lucy's smiling face in the photograph on the table, and the letter in his shaking hands.

—-

The first time Ford sees her powers, he can only stare in awe. His and Otto's attempts at hydrokinesis had resulted in mere bubbles and splashes, which they'd had fun fooling around with, splashing each other when one wasn't looking.

Lucy is not fooling around. With a mere thought, she commands the water as though it were an extension of her outstretched hand. She moves with grace and precision, yet with enough power that their previous mining efforts are dwarfed in comparison. Massive waves wash away dirt and stone and other minerals and draw heaps of glowing crystals to their feet, leaving not a droplet behind.

—-

Bob and Helmut link trembling hands, and a nearby vine beckons Ford nearer.

The television screen is small and colorless, and the figure in the distance is barely discernible. But her command of water is unmistakable, even though it is people, not stones, that it brings to her feet.

—-

The first time Ford enters Lucy's mind is among one of the first times he has ever entered a mind. It is frightening yet fascinating as he sets foot on a giant quilt that undulates like gentle ocean waves. Buildings made of patchwork resemble a town from a faraway place, like something out of a picture book. Though he is attacked by the same small creatures he had seen in Otto's mind, this world is vastly different. Some of it is locked away to him, however, and he urges Lucy to open her mind more, eager to explore this uncharted territory.

—-

They have explored the Gulch, their psychic powers, and each other's minds, but the war room is entirely uncharted territory. The government was never supposed to be involved, and yet here were politicians representing every country Ford had ever known and then some, all of them begging their little friend group to please do something. They speak of the horrors this "monster" has committed, and one points out that they have no idea what she will do next.

But they say that Ford and his group of psychic heroes—surely they must know what lies in the mind of this madwoman.

Ford and the others exchange worried glances. He knows what he put into her mind... but none of them know what has happened to it now.

—-

When Ford continually pushes Lucy to open up more, he feels no deep worry or fear. Over the years they'd known each other, they had explored each other's minds, probing into the depths, looking for what new wonders there were to find.

Memory Vaults remain open, frolicking through the mindscape with their mouths agape. Exposure to certain substances sooth Doubts and Regrets and make Censors sluggish to act, allowing for more ease of exploration. New doors open, allowing for more and more depths to explore.

In spite of her dulled inhibitors, Lucy expresses her fear sometimes, unsure if they're pushing each other too far. But Ford assures her that all is safe, here. Nothing can reach them here in the Gulch, and he puts her hands in his own, assuring her that she can trust him.

They are far from any troubles.

—-

The helicopter takes them far, far from the Gulch. The ride is silent and tense, no one saying a word, even over telepathy—or none of them speak to Ford, anyway. Bob and Helmut stare at their interlinked hands, Cassie and Compton huddle close, and Otto looks blankly ahead, his face unreadable.

None of them meet his gaze.

—-

Her horrified gasp shatters their peaceful morning. Lucy stares at the newspaper for an eternity before it drops from her shaking hands, and her sister's name leaves her trembling lips.

Ford's immediate thought is to comfort and reassure her, but she's already packing her bags, deaf to his words.

His words of comfort soon turn to pleas to stay—everything's changing too fast. Their minds are different. She doesn't know what will happen. (He doesn't know what will happen.) But she insists that she must leave, she must help her sister, and nothing he can say will sway her.

It's when she leaves, taking off riding on a wave, that it strikes him that they'd never taken the time to close up their minds. But he tries to reassure himself—he knows her. She won't let anything harmful into her mind, and they'll see each other again, once this is all over.

—-

The first time Ford sees Maligula, he does not recognize her. He's not alone, as all of them stare at her in horror, wondering at the identity of this monster standing before them.

It's not until Bob calls out to everyone that this is Lucy—that this is their friend—that recognition sets in, and nearly brings Ford to his knees. This is it—this was Lucy who brought those people to her feet, who wiped this country off the map, who let this terrible darkness into her heart—or out of it.

...But she hadn't done that alone.

It was Ford who had begged her to open those doors in her mind in the first place.

And he stands before Maligula, a single horrified thought running through his mind:

What have I done?

#ford cruller #lucrecia mux #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #bad things happen bingo #psychonauts 2 spoilers #my art #my writing #this took me months to get myself to write it #not that it was hard to write it was that I was like... majorly overthinking the entire fic #the actual fic was 500x easier to write than I thought

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friendlyneighborhoodcrow · 1 year

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A Night To Remember

You know how Sam got pulled into the fellowship by dropping some eaves? Well, imagine that, but my dear reader, you are Bilbo’s gardener and you happen to overhear the most intriguing conversation pertaining to a certain quest for a mountain!

This is the first fic that I have ever posted, I hope you like it! I appreciate comments and reblogs! Also, I nearly named it "Dropping Eaves" haha

Hobbit fem!reader with the last name of Underhill no use of y/n! (I tried to keep it vague but I thought I should add the hobbit’s iconic wavy and curly hair, so boom, you have hobbit hair :>)

Relationships:

All platonic!

Warnings include:

Mention of ale (Like once, I think)

Embarrassment (does that count as a warning? I think it does)

Thorin being moody (what’s new?)

When you decided to stay late to trim Mr. Baggins' hedges, you had not imagined there would be so much activity! The freshly painted door endured an onslaught of abuse as knock after knock sounded through the crisp night air. You had briefly wondered if dear Mr. Bilbo had planned a party and neglected to invite you. But that idea was soon tossed out of your mind as you heard the hobbit in question squawk in indignation as yet another stranger entered his home. You could practically picture it! His face would be flushed and exasperated and how he would stomp his feet as hobbit after hobbit entered through the round door- no that wasn’t quite right, Bilbo’s unexpected company did not seem to be shire-folk.

You quickly moved from your spot next to a lovely bush of flowers to a shaded alcove near a window which was open just a crack. Carefully you moved to peer inside but stilled as you realized you were about to invade the privacy of your employer. You could never do such a thing, as you considered yourself a respectable hobbit! But as Bilbo raised his voice once more, you heard yourself mutter oh, bother! And nimbly moved to look through the pane of glass.

Inside was at first, as you expected, warm and filled with the comforts of home, but the longer you looked the more confused you became. It seemed Mr. Baggins' house had been invaded by a group of bearded folk! They were taller than Bilbo but not near tall enough to be human. Dwarves then, you resolved but paused to wonder what dwarves were doing in the small corner of the world you called home. As you pondered, you saw a tall man who was most definitely not a dwarf, nor a hobbit, hunched over in the hall next to Bilbo. With his back facing you, you could not tell who he was. Perhaps they had come to rob Mr. Bilbo of all his earthly possessions! The thought did not seem entirely implausible as you watched the dwarves carry chairs, silverware, dishes and what seemed to be the tea cakes you had baked for Bilbo!

But luckily for Bilbo, you thought, it did not seem that they would run off with his belongings but instead set the table farther down the hall. You struggled to see them but you found no trouble in hearing the merry gathering as they shouted happily and exchanged mugs of Ale. To put it mildly, it fascinated you! Whenever Bilbo let you use his library, you jumped towards his books and ledgers filled with stories of far-off places and beings. You dreamed of exploring the woods and meeting all manner of creatures, but never did you think you would realize that dream, let alone in the Shire! The most brilliant of smiles was painted upon your face as you watched Bilbo and his guests, suddenly wishing you could join in on the merry-making. However, you would settle for being a fly on the wall.

As the evening continued, you could not pull yourself away from the small window, never before had you seen Bilbo in such an uproar, only to be dismissed as his guests began to sing the most lively of tunes! You balled your hands into the fabric of your gardening apron to keep them from clapping along to the beat of the song, which centred on the displeasure of Bilbo. Oh, how you could live in this moment forever! As the song came to a close, there was a pounding on the door that caused you to startle and fall back into a freshly-weeded flower bed.

You scrambled back to your place in the alcove as you heard the door open. Pressing yourself close to the outside of Bagend, you listened. A deep voice sounded, though you could not clearly hear him. As the voices moved through the house, you began to worry that you may be spotted. Quickly, you ducked low but as you lowered yourself below the window, you could have sworn a tall man in grey looked your way.

Inside the warm house, the dwarves gathered close to their leader and the party shuffled back to the table that had been cleaned off moments before. Gandalf however, had his sharp eyes focused on a window where a flash of curled hair moved downwards. With a deep hum, he turned back to the dwarves and one poor hobbit as they began their discussion.

After Gandalf had pressed the fact that a hobbit would be the perfect choice for a burglar, he excused himself to allow the dwarves to ruminate over his words. He moved through the house with relative ease, considering his size, and stayed close to the shadowed corners to avoid being seen by any possible interloper. Oh so silently, he made his way to the front door of Bagend and opened it slowly, avoiding any creaks and cracks. The grey wizard found himself rather relieved that Bilbo’s freshly painted door had also been oiled to move smoothly upon its hinges.

Meanwhile, you sat listening to the dwarves and Bilbo. The man who you now understood to be Gandalf the Grey, slipped by your watch as your eyes lit with thoughts of their noble quest to Erebor. How wonderful it sounded! Never had you felt so truly close to your favourite books and tales as you did now. Picturing yourself upon a steed, riding towards a lonesome mountain, fighting a great dragon and coming home filled with stories to share caused you to miss as a shadow grew behind you.

“And what do you think you are doing out here young Miss?” A looming voice questioned.

With a squeak, you fell away from the window and quickly turned to stare up at the wizard who stood so close to you. Panic set in as you failed to come up with an answer, and your eyes darted about only to land on your sheers which you had dropped on the ground earlier.

“I was trimming the hedges!” you blurted. Lying had never been your strongest skill but you were proficient enough to get yourself out of sticky situations. But when caught red-handed by an imposing wizard, all skill left you and you were left stuttering and grasping for a reply.

“A little late to be trimming the verge isn’t it?” he calmly rebutted.

“Well, I- well you see-” you began but were promptly cut off as Gandalf chuckled at your expense.

“My dear, it is plain to see that you were eavesdropping, but it is also very clear that your stealth is unmatched, for even I did not notice you for quite some time.”

You felt your face grow hot under his scrutinizing yet kind gaze. You couldn't quite tell if he was trying to compliment you or incriminate you further. When you played hide and seeking games with your neighbour's children you could go oh so long without being found! But in this case, you found yourself feeling rather deviant and ashamed. As Gandalf looked upon your face, it seemed he could see your thought pattern and stated in a soft voice “It was a good skill to have,” and added to the end, “Now, I think you should come inside and meet the others.” A mischievous smile crept onto his face as you swallowed.

Walking inside the familiar dwelling your feet dragged somewhat behind Gandalf’s steps but as you heard the voices of the dwarves you couldn’t help but perk up at the thought of speaking with them. Gandalf guided you to where they all sat and one by one, they turned to look at you with expressions of curiosity, mirth, and annoyance. Whether you were ready for your fantasies to come true or not it was time to face the beings you oft dreamt of meeting.

“Gandalf, who might this young lass be?” A dwarf with the strange hat said while staring at you, his eyes a warm brown that twinkled in the low light of the room.

“This, Master Bofur,” Gandalf began, “is Miss Underhill, Master Bilbo’s gardener I believe.”

Before Gandalf could continue, a dwarf with a refined air stood and questioned in the same deep voice you heard from the door, “And what exactly is she doing here?”

“Well, I-” Gandalf began but was once more interpreted as Bilbo walked back into the hall. He locked eyes with you, and they blew wide as he took in your slightly dishevelled appearance, for you were sure that you had grass stains and dirt upon your clothing from the day and evening happenings.

“Why, Miss Underhill, what on earth are you doing here at this hour?” he said, exasperation clear upon his face and in his voice. It was strange to hear your last name from him as you had grown quite close throughout your employment at Bagend. You reasoned all the shock of the evening had rattled him quite thoroughly already, and that your appearance did not help in the slightest. Looking back over to Gandalf, he looked rather annoyed to be interrupted but turned to you once more with a glint behind his eye that could only mean trouble.

“You see Master dwarf and hobbit, this young lady was trimming the hedge,” said with a pointed look at you, “when she overheard what was meant for our ears alone.”

“So she knows of our quest?” A young dwarf spoke up, your eyes flitted over to him and saw that his beard was little more than scruff. He must be quite young then, you thought.

“Yes Master Kili, she does know of our quest to the Lonely Mountain, and I believe that she would make a most splendid addition to the company.” Gandalf finished.

In an instant, the room was filled with voices disagreeing with each other. It seemed they grew louder and louder, and even Bilbo had joined in to protest the both of you attending such a venture. As the bickering continued, you looked about the room to see many disgruntled faces and you could only imagine your look of shock at the prospect of joining their quest to take back their home.

“Enough!” The dwarven leader roared and the room quickly fell quiet. “Gandalf, first, you propose that an unqualified burglar join us,” He began with a cadence of resentment, “And then you bring a gardener into our meeting without warning and demand she be added to our company!”

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentle-folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” A large dwarf with a tattooed head spoke up, and you found yourself suddenly defensive of both your livelihood and your ability to handle yourself outside of your home.

“As I have said.” Gandalf stated sternly, “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet and our interloper,” he gestured to you, “seems to have quite the gift for stealth as she has been here for longer than all of us.”

All eyes turned to you and you once again grew warm under the stare of so many beings. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come out, you closed your eyes for a moment and took a breath. Opening them once more, your eyes drifted to Bilbo who looked entirely perplexed.

“Well, I- You see I- I was staying late to finish cutting down some of the hedges and tend to the magnolia bush, you see, I’m sure it will bloom soon and- and-” you trailed off.

“And?” An old dwarf with a snow-white beard raised an eyebrow as he cued you to continue. You swallowed and gathered yourself once more, now determined to make a better impression than a stealthy interloper, as Gandalf had so kindly put it.

“I was finishing my work when all of you started to arrive and I was simply fascinated as I have never seen any dwarves before. To state it simply, my curiosity got the better of me, I hope you’ll forgive me.” You looked down as you finished, afraid of how the party would look at you or what they would say. There was a weighty silence that prevented you from moving a centimetre.

“Well, I must say that it’s rather impressive not even Kili and I had noticed you!” A voice exclaimed in a cheery tone, you slowly raised your eyes to see a dwarf with golden hair smiling at you, and you found a small smile creeping onto your own face.

“Aye, and I assure you, we are quite keen!” The young dwarf who must have been Kili replied. At this, you started to feel a sense of hope that you would not be cast out but rather, welcomed into the group, however, your thoughts were interpreted as the leader of the dwarves looked your way and spoke.

“Regardless of any petty skill, I fail to see the claim you have to join us in our quest. Furthermore, why should I allow another addition to the company?” He said, not quite as a question but as a statement. You found yourself suddenly annoyed, had you given reason for him to question your integrity?

“Well, I find it rather insulting that you would write me off without a second thought. Furthermore,” you began mimicking his words, “from what I gather, Mr. Bilbo is yet to agree to join, leaving you a burglar short!”

“Lass, are you sure you would want to take on such a burdensome quest?” The old dwarf with snow-white hair spoke up, “Not to mention the many dangers that lay ahead.”

Before you could reply, you looked to Bilbo, who was visibly pale and faint. Cautiously, you asked him if he was quite alright and to your surprise, he laughed.

“You can’t possibly be entertaining this! To think, you and me gallivanting across the world!” Poor Bilbo seemed frantic and before you could think through your reply you uttered to Mr. Baggins horror that you were considering joining. Bilbo threw up his hands and began to walk toward his sitting room, and Gandalf took the silent moment as his cue to speak up.

“Well, I think that settles it. Balin, will you fetch the contract?” Gandalf smiled down at you, and you couldn't help but return the gesture, the old dwarf, known as Balin looked over to their leader and he gave a small and reluctant nod. As a lengthy piece of paper was passed over to you, you began reading. You would never admit it, but you skimmed most of the contract looking for the place where you would leave your signature. With a smile, you accepted a quill from Gandalf and cemented your place in the company.

Balin took the contract back and after looking it over, turned to you and said “Well, Miss Underhill, I formally welcome you to the company of Thorin Oakansheild.”

There was a round of cheers, and you shook hands with most of the dwarves in the room. Your eyes, however, looked towards the sitting room where Bilbo had retreated to. Gandalf seemed to follow your line of sight and hunched down to whisper to you that Balin possessed an extra copy of the contract and that you may yet travel with Mr. Baggins.

Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion you turned to face Gandalf and thanked him, for this was truly a night to remember.

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boromorous · 2 years

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having many thoughts about Dain today

I've been reading a bunch of fics with Dain in them lately, and it's got me feeling like fanon Dain isn't enough of a chad- especially regarding his relationship with Bilbo.

Like, I've read so many fics that have Dain dislike bilbo- whether because he doesn't like hobbits, or Bilbo in particular, or disapproves of Bilbo's closeness to Thorin etc., but its pretty clear in the books that Dain likes Bilbo! and thinks he's super awesome!

I'm not sure how this got turned around? maybe he makes a good scapegoat- perhaps having an even bigger jerk makes Thorin look better? (sorry Thorin but it's true) Anyway, I don't know for sure, but there's about one million characters in LOTR u can pick to be an asshole- but Dain shouldn't be in there XD

Especially regarding Bilbo! like, Dain did SO MUCH for Bilbo- even when he barely knew him!

Looking at the events in LOTR, as told by Gimli in the council of Elrond, we can see that even 60ish years after only meeting Bilbo once, he still cared greatly about his safety.

Gimli tells everyone about how Sauron sent black riders to Erebor, and the riders were basically like “i'll give you THREE dwarven rings of power, and MORIA if u tell me where Bilbo Baggins is.” and Dain, the chad he is, was like “umm, no” and sent Gimli and Gloin to WARN BILBO! He fucking waged war against THE GREATEST EVIL EVER- refusing literally the greatest gifts that could possible be offered to dwarves, for like, the safety of a hobbit. especially after ALL the dwarves have been through to get back Moria!! Dain was in the battle of Azanulbizar (aka the battle to reclaim Moria)!!

And yet he refused!

TBH of the great figures in middle earth his track record is actually amazing- like, so many Kings in LOTR history have fallen pray to Sauron's will. DAIN? The dwarf? A race known in middle earth for greed? He wouldn’t stand for it! Stood up to Sauron for a hobbit! I cant get over it.

Additionally he's SO honorable! Dain DIED in the war of the ring- fighting alongside Brand, Bard's grandson. He signed his death certificate because he stood up to Sauron- and paid for it with his life to help the men. He literally died PROTECTING Brand's body!! Additionally the only reason all the men of Dale lived is because they were given protection by seeking refuge in Erebor.

Also even disregarding the events of LOTR- he is EXPLICITLY nice to Bilbo!! Dain says to Bilbo after the battle of five armies: “'This treasure is yours as much as it is mine... I should hope that the words of Thorin, of which he repented, should not prove true: that we should give you little. I would reward you most richly of all.'" -Dain in "The Return Journey" He gave Bard a fourteenth share!! MORE RICHLY THAN THAT? THAT’S A LOTTA GOLD FOR ONE HOBBIT!

This is, I think, the only explicit dialogue ever exchanged between Bilbo and Dain, and it's pretty obvious he respects Bilbo. So it makes me sad when fanon Dain is like "get out of our mountain Bilbo" XD

#mini rant lol #i just love dain

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drewtanakagf · 4 months

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HOLE THEORY (part 1/2)

☆ @rrversesummerbang gift exchange fic for @buoyantsaturn

It’s summer in some metropolis and Mythomaniac is looking for a guitarist.

Teen & Up Audiences, Band AU. Words: 4,281

Excerpt Under Read More!

“We need a guitarist,” Nico says from where he is on the worn couch. He pushes back his hair pulling the top part into a tiny ponytail. The couch used to be bright red, once. Will’s next to him, focused on his medical textbook. Hazel and Frank are also over for what should be a chill afternoon.

“Lots of people are staying around campus,” Hazel replies. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find someone who wants to play.”

Will’s garage door is rolled up all the way, exposing the four to the street. He lives with his mother on the outskirts of the city; not quite the suburbs but quiet enough to think so. It’s still loud, with the houses so squished together; conversations from two doors down waft through the air, crystal clear. Someone plays an aria at the highest volume, competing with the brass of the merengue floating down the street. People walk up and down the cracked pavement of the road and sidewalks; hanging out at house gates, leaning into open car windows as the day begins to wind down. Summer has begun to settle in, the heat batted away by frequent cooling breezes of spring. The trees are strong and green, the flowers and houseplants re-appearing on porches painting the world alive with color.

The driveway leading up to the garage itself is short, but private enough for pedestrians to not see inside with a single wayward glance. The garage itself is dark, lights either turned off or permanently out of commission.

Hazel’s laying belly-down on the smooth concrete, humming along to the merengue and doodling on paper with a black chisel marker. Frank sits on the icebox by the door leading to the kitchen, feet swinging a few feet off the concrete, bobbing his head along to the music bleeding from his Walkman’s headphones. He’s holding a bag of ice over his wrist, brace lying next to him. Wires are strewn across the floor, leading to amps and pedal boards. A drum set takes up most of the space, the kickdrum’s face clear. Nico’s bass is at home in its case, though one of the two stands are available, the other one taken up by Hazel’s electric guitar.

“She’s right,” Will adds from his place on the ratty fabric couch, closing the textbook. Nico takes the opportunity to rest his head on Will’s lap, looking up only to see Will’s chin and the scrub of stubble left after he shaved this morning. “Austin definitely knows someone in the music program looking for some summer practice.”

“I do too,” Hazel says, capping the marker in her hand. “But we can always post these around for more reach.” She pushes herself up, brushing off the dirt on her plain purple t-shirt and worn, ripped jeans. She taps Frank on the thigh twice, gently.

He takes off his headphones, resting them against the back of his neck where his hair curls. “Are we leaving?”

“Yeah,” She holds up the paper in her hand. “Gotta get these printed.”

Frank nods, placing down the bag of ice and putting his brace back on before stepping off his temporary seat. He dwarfs Hazel, the younger girl taking the bag from him and putting it back in the icebox.

“See y’all later!” With that, Hazel and Frank walk onto the street, Frank slinging a protective arm over Hazel’s shoulder.

Nico and Will sit in silence for a minute. Nico absentmindedly fingers a bass line in the air.

“When do finals end?”

“Next week, why?” Will answers.

“Just wondering”

Will hums.

#riordanverse #soldezangelace #will solace #nico di angelo #jason grace #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #hoo #✍🏾 time

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a-paragon-of-their-kind · 2 years

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Nominations are Open!

From June 6th 12:00am US EST to June 12th 11:59 US EST you can nominate any Dragon Age Dwarf characters to the Paragon of Their Kind tag set!

To nominate:

Go to the Tag Set. You must be logged into AO3. Click "Nominate" in the top right corner.

Use Dragon Age - All Media Types as your fandom and nominate up to 20 Dragon Age Dwarf Characters

Hit submit! Your nominations will be reviewed. If we have any questions, we'll post them here!

Some things to remember:

A lot of dwarven characters are already in the tag set! Check out our Nominations Spreadsheet to see who is already there.

Any nomination that is not a dwarf from the Dragon Age fandom will be rejected.

For the purposes of this exchange, we are accepting Golems are dwarven characters.

For the purposes of this challenge, the Dragon Age OC Dwarf Protagonists will be considered different characters based on their gender and surname. This means that there are three options (male, female, and non-binary) for Aeducan, Brosca, and Cadash. These are already in the tag set.

Please do not nominate a custom/individual Dwarf OC Protagonist (IE: Maria Cadash). When you do your request and pick your pairings you can provide additional details, such as a preferred name or physical description, in your request.

Other original characters are allowed as long as they are "general" characters. For example: "Carta Smuggler", "Merchant's Guild Member", or "Noble Hunter" would all be acceptable, with or without gender indicators.

You do not have to sign up to nominate. Nominations are anonymous.

Screenshots below!

#dragon age #dragon age dwarf exchange #dragon age inquisition #dragon age 2 #dragon age dwarves #dragon age origins #dragonage #dwarf fic exchange #dwarves #dragon age: origins #nominations #paragon2022

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 months

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The Waves are Rising and Rising

It's here! My Secret Project #2 (which is collaborative) is a joint fic by @little-smartass and myself, based off her comic inspired by this post by lilnasxvevo, in which Nie Mingjue's qi deviation issues could possibly be solved by bottoming during dual cultivation. This fic is fully written and we'll be posting chapters twice a week!

Summary:

“My doctor thinks dual cultivation would help. Sexual dual cultivation.” Nie Mingjue puffs out his now reddened cheeks, “Specifically as the party being penetrated. It — it helps for the energy exchange to be closer to the golden core, apparently.” He clears his throat. “More efficient that way. Theoretically it would have better and faster results than Song of Cleansing.” Jin Guangyao’s ears are ringing. He’s distantly aware that his mouth is hanging open. He stares at Nie Mingjue, trying to process if he really just said what he thought he said. Slowly, he turns his head to look at Lan Xichen who — yes, Nie Mingjue definitely just said that, because Lan Xichen’s ears are bright red and he’s blinking rapidly, his own jaw dropped. Nie Mingjue is asking to be fucked in the ass. For medical reasons. –//– Three virgins with communication issues attempt to do sex magic. It goes about as well as you might expect.

Chapter 1

Jin Guangyao touches down at the gates of Bujing Shi shortly after sunset and carefully hops off Hensheng; he's very new to flying on swords, and he's very aware of the presence of eyes on him, so he works hard not to stumble or trip on his robes. Zewu-jun, who Jin Guangyao has had the honour and delight to call his er-ge for nearly a year now, touches down gracefully beside him without a single hair or robe fold out of place, and offers him a wide, encouraging smile as they approach the huge portcullis that is slowly creaking upwards.

Nie Mingjue stands in the entryway, as stoic and imposing as ever in his crisp wide-shoulder grey robes. He dwarfs his younger brother Nie Huaisang, who immediately leaves Nie Mingjue's side to run and meet them with a boyish cry of excitement, colliding with Jin Guangyao in a flurry of pale robes hard enough to knock him back a step.

"Huaisang!" Jin Guangyao wheezes, clutching at his shoulders to stop them both staggering, "Careful, I-"

"Be nice to da-ge later, okay?" Nie Huaisang hisses in Jin Guangyao's ear. "You know he's not good at asking for help."

Jin Guangyao blinks, startled, as Nie Huaisang pulls away and goes to fling himself at Lan Xichen, and takes the opportunity to shoot a glance at Nie Mingjue. He and Lan Xichen have come to visit specifically to play Song of Cleansing for their da-ge, the way they have ever since they swore brotherhood after the war, and whilst Nie Mingjue has always been gruff about the whole thing, he never seems to have struggled with the situation beyond a general kind of skepticism around its effectiveness. Playing Cleansing for him to try and mitigate the effects of Baxia — which had compounded and accelerated during the war — had been Lan Xichen’s idea, and Jin Guangyao has the suspicion that Nie Mingjue had agreed to it more to mollify Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang’s anxiety about his health than because he honestly believed it would work.

When Lan Xichen manages to pry Nie Huaisang off and the three of them step up for their official greetings, Jin Guangyao keeps a close eye on Nie Mingjue. The man bows with his usual stoic form and little more than a nod to say welcome — which is slightly strange in Lan Xichen's case, as the two of them are genuine friends and actually like each other, but it is possible that Nie Mingjue's mood is simply soured by Jin Guangyao’s presence. As usual.

Jin Guangyao does not let anything he feels about that show on his face (he cannot acknowledge the low but persistent, familiar ache that originates in last soft part of his heart that’s still Meng Yao from before the war, the part of him he had to hide away to survive the brutal violence of Wen Ruohan’s court, the part that he is even more rarely able to indulge now that he must act as his father’s deadly right hand). Since the war, Nie Mingjue has become hyper-attuned to even the vaguest hint of hostility and no matter what Nie Mingjue may believe, Jin Guangyao honestly has no interest in provoking him.

Not today, anyway.

“Well!” Nie Huaisang titters, eyes flicking shiftily around at the three of them even as he smiles apparently guilessly, “I have things to be getting on with, so I’ll say goodnight now, and see you all tomorrow!”

Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen wish him goodnight and Nie Mingjue huffs in a vaguely unimpressed way, though makes no move to stop his brother leaving. As Jin Guangyao watches him flit away he does wonder what on earth Nie Huaisang could possibly have to be getting on with more pressing than the opportunity to socialise that he is usually so eager for —

— Or perhaps, whatever it is that Nie Mingjue is going to ask of them, what Nie Huaisang warned him of, is simply serious enough that Huaisang knows not to intrude.

Considering Nie Huaisang’s general nosiness in most other circumstances, this doesn’t bode particularly well.

Instead of leading them to their guest rooms to refresh after travelling, Nie Mingjue takes them deeper into the maze of stone corridors in a route that Jin Guangyao quickly realises leads to the inner family area. He feels his stomach tighten; he tries to catch Lan Xichen's eye, but the man seems to be utterly at ease, just a little curious.

“Da-ge,” Lan Xichen says, as they turn down the corridor towards the sect leader’s personal suite, “is everything alright? Why are we going to your rooms?”

“There’s a matter that the three of us need to discuss that requires greater privacy than Blade Hall affords," Nie Mingjue says. He's talking to Lan Xichen, so he doesn't snap or growl, but his tone is still a little sharp.

This time, when Jin Guangyao seeks out Lan Xichen's gaze, the look he gets in return carries faint concern.

They follow Nie Mingjue's brisk march into his rooms — he closes the door and activates the privacy talismans with a sharp flick of his wrist, in a casual display of raw cultivation power that never fails to make Jin Guangyao seethe with envy. They settle around the table without Nie Mingjue even bothering to serve tea, which is an indication of the seriousness of what they need to discuss if nothing else is.

“So,” Nie Mingjue says, pressing his hands flat against the top of the tea table, “I had a checkup with my… doctor—” he pauses for barely a second before he says ‘doctor’, but Jin Guangyao prides himself on being able to sniff out weakness like a bloodhound, so he files the pause away in his brain under Suspicious? for further consideration later, “—and they feel that Song of Cleansing isn’t doing a sufficient amount to improve my health — that it’s just helping mitigate the symptoms without actually treating the root of the problem.”

Lan Xichen’s eyebrows draw down and his mouth pinches. He reaches out his hand to Nie Mingjue, ready to comfort, but he waves him off, apparently with more to say.

“My doctor has advised me to consider an… alternative treatment. It’s not really been explored much, because it’s considered unorthodox.” He blows out a breath and clenches his jaw hard enough that Jin Guangyao sees the muscle jump in his cheek. “But apparently I am out of other options.”

Nie Mingjue’s tone is gruff, but there’s still a tense undertone to everything he says which Jin Guangyao just can’t parse. His eyes cut to Lan Xichen, who seems just as confused.

Unorthodox? The last thing he heard described as unorthodox was Wei Wuxian’s work in demonic cultivation, but… surely this cannot be that sort of unorthodox? Jin Guangyao can’t imagine how the manipulation of resentful energy could possibly help here, and his mind races frantically to try and preemptively discern Nie Mingjue’s meaning. The Nie saber cultivation method is already bordering on unorthodox (though the Nie sect would never acknowledge it) so perhaps it’s just some new way of using his weapon - and yet, no, why would that leave Nie Mingjue so stiff and strange? Why would that require taking his sworn brothers aside to his personal rooms for a discussion secretive enough to require privacy talismans?

No, it has to be something deeply private, or else otherwise on the verge of being immoral. Jin Guangyao stares intently at Nie Mingjue, searching his face for any kind of tell.

When the man finally opens his mouth to explain, Jin Guangyao could not possibly have predicted his response.

Jin Guangyao’s ears are ringing. He’s distantly aware that his mouth is hanging open. He stares at Nie Mingjue, trying to process if he really just said what he thought he said. Slowly, he turns his head to look at Lan Xichen who — yes, Nie Mingjue definitely just said that, because Lan Xichen’s ears are bright red and he’s blinking rapidly, his own jaw dropped.

Nie Mingjue is asking to be fucked in the ass. For medical reasons.

“Obviously I have no… expectations here,” Nie Mingjue continues, “but as I have no spouse or cultivation partner, and dual cultivation is most effective between people who have an established spiritual bond… my doctor recommended that sworn brotherhood would be the next best option. If you were willing.”

Jin Guangyao searches for something to say, or any way to react at all, and finds his mind has almost entirely ground to a halt. Nie Mingjue is not asking to be fucked in the ass in the general sense, he is asking, very specifically, for Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao to fuck him in the ass.

For medical reasons.

His brain decides, at that point, somewhat unhelpfully, to offer him a mental image of what that might be like; thankfully there aren’t many specific details, just a lot of sweaty flushed skin and unbound hair and hands grasping sheets, gasping between anxious kisses; but it’s enough to completely ruin any attempt of getting his shit together.

Lan Xichen recovers first, and finally fully extends the comforting hand he’d been holding ready this whole time, gripping Nie Mingjue’s wrist over his thick leather arm bracer.

“Da-ge, I’m so glad you felt able to come to us with this,” he says, voice low and soothing. “I promised you on the day we took our vows that I was committed to helping you with your health, and if this is the path that is required to get the best results, then I will walk it with you.” He squeezes Nie Mingjue’s wrist. “Whatever you need, da-ge — I’m here.”

Jin Guangyao’s brain bursts back into full function with a jolt of jealousy that feels like a punch to the gut. Lan Xichen has immediately — eagerly, even — agreed to a sexual relationship with Nie Mingjue. He didn’t hesitate, or ask for more details. Lan Xichen wants Nie Mingjue, and if the way Nie Mingjue’s face has softened at Lan Xichen’s agreement is any indication, the feeling is mutual.

The next thing his mind (now almost moving too fast, like a cart careening down a hill) throws at him is pure panic. When Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are done exchanging gentle looks they will turn and look at him, and he will be expected to give an answer and, honestly, what the hell is he supposed to say?

Yes, he will fuck Nie Mingjue in the ass for medical reasons, and have to deal with the — gods, the just fucking everything involved in that situation? The risk? The danger to him both physically and emotionally? The deeply bewildering ramifications of it upon the already complicated dynamic of their sworn brotherhood?

Or, no, he will not fuck Nie Mingjue in the ass for medical reasons, and then, almost worse, he will have to explain himself.

"It's late," Jin Guangyao says quickly, just as Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen’s heads start to turn in his direction. He tries to offset the clear anxiety in his voice with his most charming, normal smile. Dimples and everything. He hopes it doesn’t look as manic as he feels. "Can… can I have the night to think it over?"

To his surprise, Nie Mingjue does not get irritable, or even roll his eyes. He just gives a solemn nod. "Of course."

Jin Guangyao shouldn’t have been surprised. Despite the fact that Nie Mingjue makes all the prey animal parts of his brain scream danger, danger, he knows that he’s not a fundamentally bad man. He is arrogant and frustrating and self-righteous and prone to violence in a truly disturbing way — but Jin Guangyao knows without an ounce of hesitation that he would consider the idea of forcing another party into a sexual encounter, even for medical reasons, utterly reprehensible. Unthinkable, even. If he and Lan Xichen refused to take part in dual cultivation, Jin Guangyao knows that Nie Mingjue would go to his bloody terrible death without ever bringing it up again.

"Perhaps we should all retire for the evening now then," Lan Xichen suggests. It's a very kind suggestion that gives him an easy and polite way out of the immediate situation. His er-ge is always so very kind. “A-Yao and I have done a lot of travelling today, after all.”

“Sure,” Nie Mingjue says with an easy shrug. He is usually the sort of man for whom awkwardness is an Other People Problem, but Jin Guangyao imagines that even he would be grateful for a reprieve from such a charged subject.

Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao climb to their feet

"I will give you an answer in the morning, I promise," Jin Guangyao adds, then immediately regrets it — it sounds anxious, and whilst he is feeling exceedingly anxious, it is utterly paramount that he keeps that to himself. Nie Mingjue usually reacts to his anxiety with suspicion, and if Jin Guangyao displays ‘suspicious’ behaviour it’ll only provoke aggression.

Jin Guangyao has enough threats in his life without adding yet another opportunity for pissing off Nie Mingjue.

Thankfully, Lan Xichen bids Nie Mingjue goodnight before he can react or respond and the two of them make a swift exit.

They walk to their own separate guest rooms in companionable silence (presumably Lan Xichen has just as much to consider as Jin Guangyao, even if his thoughts are likely far more eager). When they reach the point where they must part, Jin Guangyao dips into his customary low bow — and his heart leaps delightedly in his chest when Lan Xichen immediately takes hold of his wrists to lift him out of it.

"A-Yao," he says, a kind of chiding amusement in his tone.

"Er-ge," Jin Guangyao replies unrepentantly, unable to keep himself from beaming. Lan Xichen's strong hands are warm even through the gold and cream and seafoam layers of his robes and Jin Guangyao wishes he could freeze everyone else and stay in this moment for hours, gazing at Lan Xichen's kind, handsome, charmingly crooked smile, just soaking up the aching wonderment of being appreciated and cared for like an equal.

Lan Xichen gives his wrists a gentle little squeeze before he releases them. It sends a frisson of pleasure through Jin Guangyao's whole body.

"A-Yao," he says, lowering his voice (and Jin Guangyao know immediately where this going from the way his eyes quickly flick up and down the corridor), "I hope you know that whatever you decide, I will support you, and it will not affect our friendship in the slightest."

Jin Guangyao forces himself to continue smiling despite the swirling mess of emotion that rears its head.

"Thank you, er-ge, I will remember that."

--//--

His mind chases itself around in circles all night. It should be an easy decision because this is an objectively bad idea. Who in their right mind would agree to help fuck a man who hates them back to health — and not only that, but share said fucking duties with the man they're almost certainly in love with and would much rather be fucking? It's total insanity. It's a completely unacceptable risk. If anyone were to catch wind of it, his life would literally be over.

There are two kinds of men that can survive a sex scandal coming to light: those who have power and a good enough reputation to balance out the scandal, and those who have power and a bad enough reputation that no one bothers to care.

Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen are the former. His father is the latter.

Jin Guangyao is neither. He is a young man with his mother's pretty face, his father's entirely conditional support, and a gossamer thin war hero reputation spread like a translucent outer robe over sunnuva-whore. If anyone found out he was fucking his sworn brothers he would lose everything, and that's not even considering Jin Guangshan's wrath over thwarting his political ambitions that very much depend on Nie Mingjue's condition deteriorating! If he found out that Jin Guangyao was actively helping to improve Nie Mingjue's health-

Well. Life over.

It should be an easy decision to make. Nothing could possibly be worth everything he has spent his entire life fighting tooth and nail for. He should just say no. Er-ge wouldn't hold it against him. Da-ge might actually be relieved.

Okay, says his brain, but it would be really hot.

Jin Guangyao opens his eyes and glares at the ceiling. He is not that kind of person. He's smart and hardworking and he has very, very good self control. He is not the kind of moron who lets his libido dictate his actions. He has fought and struggled too hard to-

In counterpoint, his brain (he's actually not certain it's his brain, he's pretty sure it's just his dick now) rifles through his damnably excellent memory and presents him with a patchwork collection of images: Nie Mingjue's bare torso, Lan Xichen's powerful arms… long legs, big hands, plush expressive mouths, strong jawlines and sculpted asses…

Nie Looks-Like-A-Martial-God Mingjue asked you to start regularly fucking him, and Lan Handsomest-Man-In-The-Jianghu Xichen will be in bed with you too! You'd be the moron if you turned this down!

Jin Guangyao scrambles out of bed and staggers over to the washbasin to pour out some water and splash his face. He cups some in his hands to drink, too, since his mouth is suddenly as dry as the Qinghe plains.

There are plenty of good reasons to turn it down that would not make him a moron, he thinks furiously. A-niang sacrificed too much for him to throw away his reputation for stupid dick-driven choices. The brothel madam had offered her a veritable fortune that could have paid for a dozen doctors in exchange for Meng Yao's first time, but she'd immediately refused. Meng Yao had actually considered going to the madam in secret and agreeing to it, and might well have done if a-niang hadn't died so soon afterwards. He stares down at his warped reflection in the water, his face, her face. He won't disrespect her sacrifice by being an idiot.

Besides, even if Nie Mingjue is hot, how hot could the sex possibly be when the man hates him? He knows sex can happen enjoyably even when two people don't particularly like each other — he grew up in a brothel after all — but Nie Mingjue doesn't even like being in the same room as him, let alone touching him. The man will bear it all stoically and resentfully and the whole thing will be clinical and awkward, even if Lan Xichen is with them.

You know, his brain (and he's sure it's his brain this time) says, sidling in slyly, if you say no, er-ge will still do it.

A cold bolt goes through Jin Guangyao. He grips the edges of the washbasin, eyes going wide.

It's true. Oh, god, it's true. Lan Xichen cares deeply for Nie Mingjue and takes his sworn brother vow very seriously, he would do almost anything to help improve his da-ge's health. If Jin Guangyao says no, he will have to live with the knowledge that Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are having constant sex, and they've been good friends since childhood so it would probably be enjoyable constant sex, and he knows that Lan Xichen is much too kind a man to deliberately push Jin Guangyao away, but with such intimacy between the other two he would naturally become the more alienated member of the triad, wouldn't he? Just knowing about the sex would be bad enough but — but the possibility of losing what he has with Lan Xichen, er-ge, one of the few genuinely bright, lovely, good things in his life — and losing him to Nie Mingjue - it's - he can't —

He realises his breathing is fast and shallow. He closes his eyes and sucks in a long deep, shuddering breath. The fierce jealousy slithers nauseatingly, like a snake in his belly.

He can't lose er-ge. He can't. He won't.

He'll do it. He'll dual cultivate with Nie Mingjue. He'll insist on specific terms to mitigate as much risk as possible. He can be tactical about it — having Chifeng-zun in his debt is worth a lot, he can leverage that if he needs to… if his father finds out and he has to justify himself.

He can do this. He can make it work. He can shape the situation like a sculptor shaping clay, and he can come out on top.

He opens his eyes and a slightly hysterical laugh escapes him as he stares down at his pale face in the water. No pun intended.

|Next|

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #The Waves are Rising and Rising #Jin Guangyao #Nie Mingjue #Lan Xichen #the entire time we were working on this we called it the 'fuck that man AU' despite having figured out the title very early on #just as a fun tidbit lol

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lathalea · 1 year

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To the Anon discussing Marxism, PC, and gender in fics

I have read your latest reply but I decided not to post it on my blog. I appreciate you being candid about your world view and beliefs, but out of respect to Tumblr community I'm not going to relay your thoughts to my followers. My blog is a safe space for everyone who loves fanfiction, no matter who they are and who they identify as. Some of your opinions stray way beyond the fanfic realm, into real life. In my opinion, they support hurtful stereotypes and feel upsetting, not only to me personally and to my identity, but to other fanfiction writers and readers - and everyone else, the LGBTQ+ community, the allies and all the good non-prejudiced people out there 💙

I am sorry, but I'm not going to let my blog become a platform for the ideas you presented in today's ask. I respect your right to have your own opinions, even if I don't agree with them, but this is not the place to share them. I hope our little exchanges made you think at least a bit about how you perceive fanfiction and other issues.

If you ever wish to have a respectful and open-minded discussion about Thorin fics, accepting that we all are different and entitled to various interpretations of the core material, you're most welcome to. But I politely decline to discuss real-life social issues with you. I don't agree with criticizing others simply because they don't conform to your worldview.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to return to Middle Earth. Have a nice day.

Everyone, be on the lookout for more letters from Thorin when His Majesty's Royal Ask Box opens again really soon.

And you know him - he is an open-minded Dwarf coming from a very tolerant society where everyone is welcome 💙💙💙

Tagging the other Anon who pointed out the gender issue problem in these asks, @icvarus @mirkwood-princeling @legolasbadass @linasofia @xxbyimm @i-did-not-mean-to @middleearthpixie @lordoftherazzles @jayvrontio @maalezzo @msilverstar and everyone else who reblogged, commented and talked with me about this. Thank you, you're wonderful! 👑

#gender #lathalea speaks #be kind #tolerance #lgbtq positivity #thorin oakenshield #fandom #tolkien #don't like don't read #live and let live #dwarves #Marxist anon

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bluerose5 · 11 months

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For Old Times' Sake

Pairings: Anders(+Justice)/Male Hawke/Nathaniel Howe

Rating: M

Word Count: 6,912

Summary: After helping Nathaniel out in the Deep Roads, he and Anders have a lot to catch up on, but Garrett Hawke isn't the slightest bit deterred by the history between them.

AO3 Link. Along with links to posts from deedeemactir and zevsurana that inspired certain parts/headcanons mentioned in this fic. :D

...

Garrett kept a close eye on Nathaniel Howe.

Not that he did anything untoward, nor did Garrett think him to be a suspicious sort. On the contrary, he seemed reliable enough, and he definitely piqued the Champion's interest.

On their way out of the Deep Roads, Garrett fell back to walk at Anders' side. They took up the rear with Fenris and Varric a few paces in front of them, Nathaniel and Carver taking the lead. Aside from Garrett, they thought it best to keep the Wardens positioned in the outer ranks to lessen the others’ chances of coming into contact with tainted blood, should the darkspawn attack again.

With Nathaniel and Anders being more attuned to the darkspawn taint than Carver, they were pretty certain that the coast was clear, but better to be safe than sorry, they said.

Garrett chose to ease his way back to Anders’ side, despite his warning stare.

“You’re supposed to be with the others,” Anders said in place of a greeting, his brow furrowed in concern.

Snorting, Garrett wrapped an arm around his waist, which almost instantly sapped Anders of all that tension.

“Perhaps, but I trust my handsome Grey Warden to come to my rescue at the first sign of trouble.”

“Is that so?” Anders asked, amused. “Also, technically, I’m your former Grey Warden. You know that.”

“I’m trying to paint a heroic picture here, my love.”

“Fair enough.”

They exchanged a warm smile.

After a moment, Garrett cleared his throat.

“So…” He trailed off, his expression sly. “Nathaniel, huh?”

Anders raised a brow at him in turn.

“What about him?” he said, but Garrett was far from oblivious, noting how he shuffled against his side.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he said, lowering his voice to a mere whisper, “I would think that you like Nathaniel.” He shrugged. “Or maybe Justice does. Or both of you.”

Anders gaped at the suggestion.

“I, uh—” He coughed, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” Garrett smirked. “Then why are you blushing?”

Without thinking, Anders smacked a hand up to his cheek, which was indeed warm to the touch, but he wouldn’t give Garrett the satisfaction of being right.

“I am not!” he objected.

“Of course not.”

Before they could devolve into a bickering mess, Nathaniel called back to the group, "We see the exit! Just ahead!"

"Oh, thank the Maker," Varric groaned. "Fresh air! And my feet are killing me!"

"Did you complain this much on the actual expedition, dwarf?" Fenris muttered.

"Before or after my brother's infamous betrayal?" he questioned, then continued on before he could get a word in. "Tell you what, I'll go ahead and save you the time of responding to that. The answer to both is yes."

Well, at least he was honest.

With a roll of his eyes, Garrett gave a fond shake of his head.

Their group made a beeline for the exit, but their return trip was only just beginning.

As expected, Carver turned to bid the group farewell, never one to linger long those days.

Despite their earlier exchange underground, Garrett immediately released his hold on Anders to approach Carver instead, wrapping him up in a tight embrace, no hesitation whatsoever. Carver had to stoop over just to reach his short, big brother. His arms hovered in the air for a split second before he returned the hug in kind.

"Must you leave so soon?" Garrett murmured. "It's always so good to see you. Makes everything feel better, if only for a moment."

Carver buried his face into his hair, releasing a shaky breath.

"You know I can't," he said. "I need to report back."

Eventually, with great effort, he pried Garrett away. His hands remained fixed upon his shoulders, keeping him at arm's length.

Garrett swallowed thickly.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Alright. Just—Just stay safe, you hear? Be careful."

Carver spared him a smile.

"Always am, but you do the same. Don't go setting the city aflame again anytime soon, alright?"

Garrett chuckled.

"I'll try my best."

Once he departed, Garrett turned to the others. Rather than linger on their sympathetic looks, he addressed Nathaniel directly.

"What about you?" he asked, head cocked to the side. "How long are you sticking around these parts? Or do you have some urgent Grey Warden business to attend to as well?"

Nathaniel shrugged.

"I'm going to send my report to the Commander. Then, I—"

"The Commander?" Anders narrowed his eyes at that. "I thought you were here on the First Warden's orders."

"I am," Nathaniel answered, a bit too quickly, but it didn't take a genius to catch how defensive he was. "The First Warden ordered the investigation, but is it so bad that Darrian wants to keep tabs on the rest of us? After everything we've been through?"

"He doesn't keep tabs on me," Anders pointed out, trying his best not to feel insulted by that fact, but ultimately failing.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Nathaniel scoffed.

"So far as you know," Nathaniel retorted. "Do you honestly believe that one of the Kings of Ferelden, that the Hero of Ferelden himself, couldn't track you down if he wanted?"

"Well, he certainly hasn't reached out to me at all, if that was the case," Anders stated, bitter.

Nathaniel bristled at his tone.

Garrett exchanged a wary glance with the others.

Maybe it would be best to intervene somehow.

"Hey, now, guys, let's just—"

Both of them snapped their heads to the side in tandem, glaring at the intrusion.

"Stay out of it!" they snapped.

Garrett threw his hands up in surrender.

"Staying out of it," he agreed.

"You want to know why the rest of us haven't contacted you over the years?" Nathaniel spat.

"Enlighten me," Anders sneered.

"Because you left, just as you always do," Nathaniel stated, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Instead of going to Commander Tabris, instead of coming to me when you had trouble with the Wardens, you left!" Drained of what energy he had left from their excursion, he pursed his lips, his expression hurt. "I didn't even get a goodbye. Then again, should I have expected anything else? Our beloved Anders, always the escape artist."

When he didn't respond, Nathaniel took a deep breath, staring off into the distance, his jaw clenched.

"I wanted to contact you, but Darrian insisted that we give you your space. He didn't want you to feel coerced to stay. Maker, you know that he barely keeps his ties to the Wardens as is. He was trying to be understanding of what you wanted."

"Then why even bother sending you out here in the first place?" Anders countered. "Obviously, the First Warden is only an excuse, so what's out here that Darrian would be interested in? Why send you out to the Free Marches? This area isn't under his command."

Nathaniel snuck a glance at the others, who quickly averted their eyes. Fenris picked at his nails while Varric whistled an all-too-innocent tune, and Garrett busied himself by simply drawing patterns in the dirt with the tip of his shoe.

Overall, quite the convincing performance.

Shifting his attention back to Anders, Nathaniel chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"Darrian asked that I come as a favor to him while he was stuck dealing with the nobility in Ferelden," he explained. "After your expedition, word quickly spread throughout the Grey Wardens' ranks. Darrian wanted to get ahead of this before too many people got involved, before the sites were trampled over in the Wardens' search for darkspawn and riches."

"What were you looking for, if not that?" Anders asked.

His answer knocked the air out of Anders, left him winded like a punch to the gut.

"A cure."

Anders dared not hope.

"A cure for the taint?" he questioned, needing to clarify for certain.

Nathaniel nodded.

"Did you find anything?" Garrett said, unable to contain his curiosity after such a revelation.

"Not a definite answer," Nathaniel told him, "but I have another lead at least."

Garrett couldn't hide his slight disappointment, mostly for Anders' sake, but then he perked up again. He smacked Varric on the shoulder.

"Hey! Didn't Merrill's mirror have the Blight? She cleansed it with blood magic, right?" At the scrunched-up looks on Anders' and Fenris' faces, Garrett snapped his mouth shut. "Just a thought!"

"One that is worth further investigation at the very least, even if nothing comes of it," Nathaniel agreed. "Perhaps I should meet with your friend, though, this Merrill."

"Such mighty heroes of legend, willing to resort to blood magic so easily," Fenris said, the sarcasm almost palpable in his voice.

"We are no heroes," Nathaniel replied, "yet our Order has saved the world many times over, having committed much worse acts than a bit of blood magic in the name of the greater good. Keep that in mind before you judge us."

That being said, he presented an offer to Anders, a futile one, but he wanted to extend it nonetheless.

His expression softened, watching him tenderly.

"We could always use the extra hands, if you're ever interested."

"So could I," Anders countered. "Nathaniel, I can only fight one battle at a time, and the mages here need my help."

"Huh. Interesting."

"What?"

"You never used to be all that interested in the mages' struggles before. What changed?"

"You mean he wasn't always like this?" Fenris muttered to Varric.

"Hard to imagine," Varric said, incredulous.

Anders scowled at them both.

"Believe it or not, but I did always care in a way, no matter what was said in the past," he explained to all of them. "The thing was, I was powerless on my own. I didn't know where to even start. It was so much easier to turn a blind eye and look out for myself as I always did. It was easier to convince myself that I didn't care than it was to give a shit. It's not easy to have to fight tooth and nail every day to even dream about making a dent in our current system, let alone make the drastic changes that I and so many others envision."

Anders took a deep breath. Already, he could feel Justice simmering at the surface of his skin. His presence made his teeth tingle, but he wasn't ready to have that particular conversation with Nathaniel just yet.

For now, they reined themselves in.

"So, yeah," Anders stated, "a lot has changed."

"That, it has," Nathaniel said, "but my offer remains open." He paused, hesitant, wistful almost. "I don't begrudge you the life that you have built here. I merely wish that things could have been different."

The tension thickened around them, so much so that it clung to the air, but Garrett was optimistic. He wanted to reach out to them both, to bridge the sudden gap left between them.

“Well, surely you don’t have to leave so soon, do you, Nathaniel?” Garrett asked. He approached him, stepping between him and Anders, his hands on his hips with a playful smirk. “Why not stay and catch up? Preferably with less friction, of course.”

Surprised by the offer, Nathaniel blinked owlishly at him.

“I don’t know…” He trailed off, casting a glance in Anders’ direction, uncertain. “I wouldn’t wish to intrude.”

“Nonsense!” Garrett exclaimed. “Besides, you can’t just leave without having a Wicked Grace night at The Hanged Man. It’s the crown jewel of Kirkwall!”

“You don’t say,” Nathaniel hummed.

Of course, Nathaniel had been to Kirkwall before, The Hanged Man included, but he didn't want to dampen Garrett’s mood, his excitement contagious.

“I’m, uh, pretty sure that he’s busy, love,” Anders chided.

“Not too busy,” Nathaniel assured him. “After I send off my reports, all I had planned was to meet up with Sigrun in the Deep Roads.”

“You know, you could always talk to Daisy at The Hanged Man later as well,” Varric suggested.

“Daisy?”

“Merrill,” Garrett clarified.

“Ah, okay.” After thinking it over, Nathaniel shifted in place. “If it’s alright with you, Anders.”

His response was instant, bordering on defensive.

“Yeah, of course, do what you want.” He snorted. “Why would it be a problem?”

“Beats me,” Fenris deadpanned, ignoring Anders’ glare.

“In that case,” Nathaniel said, “I could always make time for a round of drinks.”

“With that kind of talk, perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with Oghren," Anders teased.

"In spite of one's best efforts, that dwarf does tend to rub off on you in one way or another."

Garrett smiled.

"Shall we get going then?" he asked. He stopped to wrinkle his nose at the state of his armor, pinching at the fine leather. "I don't know about the rest of you, though, but I could use a bath —or seven— before we go to Wicked Grace night."

Fenris and Varric grimaced at the reminder.

"Yeah, I think I'll head to the mansion first when we get back, then meet the rest of you there," Fen agreed. "Blighted Deep Roads."

"I'll be scrubbing the stench out for weeks," Varric complained with a pout. "This is my favorite coat."

"Doesn't look much different than the others."

"Thanks for the support, Hawke. It means a lot."

"Always happy to be of service," he laughed. "Nathaniel! Feel free to come by our estate before we go." He emphasized the offer with a hand upon Anders' shoulder, giving it a pointed squeeze. "I'm sure we could find something your size in Anders' or even some of Carver's old clothes."

"Tempting as that is, I think I should really check in with Delilah first," he sighed. "She'll have some of my belongings with her, at least, but I'll definitely head your way before we set out to The Hanged Man."

"Sounds like a plan."

Fenris rolled his eyes at them while Varric shook his head in amusement, undoubtedly jotting down mental notes on how best to spin this scenario for his stories.

As they started on the trek back to Kirkwall, Anders tugged Garrett to his side with a hiss.

"I know what you're doing."

"What?" Garrett asked, feigning innocence. His eyes widened, but that goofy grin of his remained in place. "What am I supposedly doing?"

"You…" Anders huffed. "You're being all friendly and what-not with Nathaniel."

"Oh, that?" Garrett shrugged, but his expression quickly shifted to one of concern. "I mean, if you want me to stop, just say the word."

Good question. Did Anders want him to stop?

"No," he decided, "it's not that." He waved away any worries he might have. "Nate's a big boy. If he's not comfortable with anything you say or do, he'll tell you himself."

"Good to know," Garrett said, "but he's 'Nate' now, huh?"

"We've known each other for a while now," Anders grumbled. "What about it?"

"Nothing." Garrett slipped free from his grasp with a mischievous wink. "Nothing at all."

He strolled up to Nathaniel's side while they walked, Fenris on the other.

Varric settled for a slower pace instead, settling in next to Anders.

While Garrett and Fenris talked with Nathaniel about almost anything and everything —from his life in Ferelden to his time in the Free Marches to his service under the Warden-Commander— Varric struck up a conversation of his own with Anders. He discussed his latest ideas on how to strengthen the protection around the clinic, especially with the templars so active as of late.

Anders nodded here and there, made the occasional noise of agreement, but the majority of his attention was devoted to watching the others, Garrett and Nathaniel specifically.

He simply couldn't look away.

The way they joked and laughed together was a sight to behold, Garrett being the more open and expressive of the two while Nathaniel relied upon his sarcasm and wit.

It didn't help that Garrett was so free with his affection and interest. He definitely cut back on flirting with others since he and Anders entered into a relationship, understandably so, but there was no denying how his body kept gravitating towards Nathaniel while they walked, how he shifted much closer than the careful distance that Fenris kept. Touches and glimpses alike lingered, but Anders found it even more fascinating when Nathaniel started to return that attention in kind.

Unlike the times when others amongst their inner circle made advances towards Garrett, Anders didn't feel that sharp, burning spike of jealousy rear its ugly head again.

No, instead, he felt entranced.

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. His heart raced. His pulse pounded.

Swallowing thickly, he felt Justice stir at the growing intensity of his emotions.

Varric snapped his fingers at him, startling Anders out of his sudden daze.

"Hey!" Varric said. "Are you even listening to me, Blondie?"

“Wha— Oh, yeah! Of course I was!”

“Uh-huh, sure…” Trailing off, Varric raised an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. “What was I just talking about then?”

“Er, stuff?”

“What sort of stuff?”

“The stuff you talk about when you’re Varric Tethras,” Anders said, “because I was definitely listening.”

“Hey, now, was that a joke? Not from our Anders, no. Someone alert the Chantry!”

“Let’s not and say we did.”

Varric hummed in contemplation, following his earlier line of sight with ease.

“Taking in the view?” he asked. Nodding ahead at Hawke and company, he gave Anders a pointed nudge with his elbow. “Or are you concerned because your boyfriend and your ex are getting along so well?”

“Something like that.”

In all honesty, he was more so surprised by how much it didn’t bother him.

The rest of their return trip passed by with idle chatter, Anders deep in thought.

Once they arrived, everyone went their separate ways. Garrett and Anders made their way to the estate, hand-in-hand, their arms swinging slightly between them.

After greeting Bodahn and the others, they retreated to their room, where Garrett drew them a bath, heating it up to a steaming temperature with his magic. From there, they shed their clothes and set them aside to be cleaned later, the exhaustion from their journey finally catching up to them.

For a moment, they let all their worries fade away into the background.

They washed one another. Reverent touches lingered while they exchanged soft kisses here and there, smiling against each other’s lips. Their hands explored their bodies. Slowly but surely, they wiped away all the dirt and grime that remained until they both were clean.

Then, as they dried off, they whispered sweet nothings against each other’s skin, flushed with warmth.

Dressed in loose shirts and form-fitting pants, they finished getting ready for the evening ahead of them. Anders left his hair down without a care in the world, but he spent more than his fair share of time combing through Garrett’s thick curls for him. He parted his hair, section by section, and took great care when he encountered any particular tangles that made him wince.

Once Garrett was satisfied with the end result, he tied his hair back out of his face, huffing at the few stubborn strands that remained in his eyes.

Together, they trudged down the stairs and into the library.

They sat in front of the fire, leaning into each other’s side.

"You know," Garrett eventually said, "speaking with Nathaniel made me realize that you don't talk much about your time with the Wardens, even now."

Anders shrugged dismissively.

"There's not much to say, in all honesty," he sighed. In the distance, he could hear the front door open as Bodahn greeted their guest. "There were some good times in Amaranthine, I must admit, but we saw just as many unspeakable horrors during our stay there." Even now, he shuddered to think about it. To take his mind off of the memories, he leaned in to whisper to Garrett conspiratorially. "Plus, that Anders, let me tell you. I hear that he was quite an insufferable ass."

Garrett barked out a laugh at that, genuinely caught off guard.

"No, you don't say!" He gasped, then abruptly stopped, giving Anders a swift once-over. "Well, at least nothing has changed much in that regard." When Anders scowled at him, Garrett was quick to backtrack. "Kidding, kidding!"

Nathaniel laughed as he entered the room, attracting their attention.

"Heh, I see why you kept this one around, Anders. He's quite the jokester. Like a certain someone," he added, sitting next to them on the floor, his legs crossed out in front of him. "Unlike you, however, he's actually funny."

Garrett beamed at that, as if he received the highest praise imaginable.

"You hear that, my dear?" Garrett bragged. "Nathaniel thinks that I am funny."

"Yes, love," Anders said, "I heard. Although, I wish I hadn't. Your ego is already big enough without the extra encouragement."

When he pouted, Nathaniel grinned at them, leaning his weight back onto his hands.

Anders tried not to stare too much, but that was easier said than done. Gone were the dirt and carnage from their earlier ventures. Gone was the Grey Warden armor he once wore. In its place, he donned a dark blue shirt with a deep, plunging neckline, crafted from the finest silk. His chest hair was on display, the view tantalizing enough to give even Varric a run for his money. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the musculature of his forearms, only a teasing glimpse of the full picture.

Black pants hugged the shape of his legs. Each shift caused the fabric to pull a little taut around his hips and thighs, the ends tucked neatly into a pair of leather boots.

Of course, if Anders was being even the slightest bit open about his appreciation, then that meant that Garrett was practically undressing Nathaniel with his eyes.

Not that Nathaniel did anything to discourage such attention, his expression smug, almost challenging as he met their eyes.

"So…" Nathaniel watched them both, lips parted. "You were talking about Amaranthine?"

Instantly, Garrett perked up, eager to know more.

"What was it like," he asked, "working with the Hero of Ferelden?"

"About as exciting as it would be to work with the Champion of Kirkwall on a daily basis, I'd imagine," Nathaniel answered. "And, from what I gathered, the crew you gathered around you is just as… unique as ours was back then."

"Yeah, that's an understatement," Anders snorted. "Although, speaking of…"

Garrett and Nathaniel glanced at him questioningly.

Despite his better judgment, he decided to ask anyway.

"How are they?"

Nathaniel thought that over for a moment, humming to himself in contemplation.

"Well, to start, I bet you'd love an update on the most important, littlest man in your life." At Anders' confused look, Nathaniel clarified. "Ser Pounce-a-lot is living a life of luxury, you know."

Oh, how Anders' heart absolutely melted at that news!

"His cat?" Garrett asked.

"The very one."

"He's still alive and kicking?" Anders laughed. "Not that I should have expected any less."

"Well, he's getting up in age; but, when Darrian heard the Wardens tried to take him away, he was upset to say the least. Brought him back to the royal palace, where his grandmother takes care of him. Last I heard, he lives the life of a spoiled mouser."

"Glad to hear it," Anders whispered, his body light with relief, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"As for our dearest Commander, well, I told you quite a bit already." Nathaniel shrugged. "King of Ferelden is the most recent update. Searching for a cure. Although, if you're more interested in the mage side of things, I hear that he and King Alistair have secured the Circle's independence in Ferelden. Apparently, they're working on implementing a different system instead."

"The College of Enchanters," Garrett whispered, and Anders hated it, how they felt the need to hide this, even in their own home. "My father had contacts in the Mages' Collective there that I still maintain. They hope that The College will serve as a template for other nations, that it'll be the first of its kind."

Anders could see how Garrett fidgeted with his hands, how he struggled to contain himself, how his dark brown eyes lit up in excitement.

"They say that they're offering refuge to apostates fleeing the Circle as well, those from Circles outside of Ferelden."

"The Mage Underground has actually confirmed that rumor," Anders stated. "They issued a royal decree stating that they will 'uphold the personal freedoms of any apostate seeking sanctuary in Ferelden, unless their presence is deemed a direct, unprovoked threat to the lives of others.' They're also refusing to aid the templars in any current hunts for mages at the moment."

"Interesting times that we live in," Nathaniel said. "It certainly won't win Darrian any points with the more Chantry-centric nobles still stuck in their ways, but I trust that he can handle it."

"If anyone could do it, it's him," Anders agreed. "But what about the others?"

"Ah, yes. Them. Now, let me see, let me see," Nathaniel continued, deep in thought. "Oghren is still Oghren, still a little smelly—"

"A little?" Anders interrupted, but Nathaniel kept on going as if he didn't even hear him.

"—still drinking his days away, but he has been more involved with his family, so I'll give him that. Velanna is, well…" Nathaniel grimaced. "She's still missing. No body was ever found in the Keep after the battle all those years ago. Darrian seems convinced that she somehow escaped and that she went into the Deep Roads to find her sister."

"I might not know this Velanna personally, but if it meant getting my sister back, I know that I would brave the Deep Roads and so much more for the chance," Garrett said, wistful.

"Had it been my sister, I wouldn't have hesitated," Nathaniel agreed, then cleared his throat. "Right, so Sigrun then? She's as cheerful as always. She's been leading multiple expeditions into the Deep Roads, sometimes for the Wardens, sometimes for the Legion, or even a mixture of both from time to time. Every now and then, she'll return to the Keep, but she keeps herself plenty busy, so she usually doesn't stay too long."

Nathaniel stared off into the flames of the crackling fire nearby, and that was when Anders suddenly realized that there was one last person for Nate to mention, a sinking feeling settling hard in his stomach like a rock.

"As for Justice, I don't know." Nathaniel rubbed at the back of his neck. "We heard from Aura that Kristoff's body was returned to her."

Anders stiffened at the all-too-familiar names, an echo of sorrow lingering from memories that were both his yet somehow not as well. A dizzying sensation followed, his head spinning as it struggled to keep up.

Confused, Garrett furrowed his brow at them, glancing between the two.

"Other than that?" Nathaniel shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe he returned to the Fade."

"To the Fade…?" Garrett narrowed his eyes at him, but Anders didn't get a chance to stop him before he rambled on. "You do mean our Justice, right? The one currently possessi—" Realization dawned on him then. "Wait, you don't know?"

With a groan, Anders dragged his hand down his face. He could already feel a headache coming on, a dull pain slowly spreading at his temple.

"Way to go, love," he praised, sarcasm thick in his voice. "Very smooth delivery there, I must say."

"Well," Garrett huffed, "how was I supposed to know that you didn't tell him?"

"Didn't tell me what, exactly?" Nathaniel asked, staring them down. "Anders, what is he talking about?"

Going back and forth on how to put it, Anders eventually decided that the time for subtlety was long gone.

With a deep, bracing breath, he closed his eyes and blurted out, "Justice and I are one!"

He peeked an eye open when Nathaniel didn't respond at first, the latter opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words.

"Okay," he eventually said, slow and even. "I think I'll need you to clarify on that one for me."

"Ugh." Anders ran his fingers through his hair, sank his teeth into his bottom lip before releasing it. "I am his living vessel, and he is currently possessing me, for lack of better words."

"You're doing great," Garrett told him. Anders wrinkled his nose at him.

After a moment, Nathaniel sat up a bit straighter, giving Anders his full attention.

"Would it be too much to ask how this happened?"

No, it wouldn't be, but it took Anders several minutes to sift through two sets of memories, recollections of the same events but viewed from different angles.

Eventually, he spoke.

"It started when Darrian began to venture out more on his own. Not that I blame him for what happened, but he was the force keeping everything in order at the Keep. You, Sigrun, and Oghren were in the Deep Roads at the time, I believe. I stayed behind with Justice to help train some new recruits, mostly the mages, the younger ones who needed more guidance than most. I loved that."

Anders smiled.

"Back then, I always put on this air of indifference, but the truth was that I loved feeling like I was a part of something bigger, that I made a difference. Justice knew that." He laughed underneath his breath with a shake of his head. "He always did see right through me."

How quickly his smile fell, his jaw clenched tight.

"But without Darrian there to oversee matters personally, the Wardens became less selective in their recruitment process. They were simply trying to ride the wave of success after the Fifth Blight. Their goal was to recruit as many people as they could, as quickly as possible."

"Yeah, I remember," Nathaniel whispered. "When we returned, I remember thinking that a lot of those new recruits were definitely a handful."

And that was saying something, considering how he joined.

"That's putting it lightly," Anders grumbled. "Among the latest group at the time was Rolan, a former templar in name only."

"He was still taking orders from them?" Garrett asked.

"I know for certain that he was. After all, it was quite the coincidence that Ser Rylock and the other templars who opposed my Conscription grew silent the second he showed up." Anders sneered. "He wasn't one of mine to train. He was more seasoned than most who joined, but he made it his sole purpose to watch my every move, to follow my every step. It didn't take long before his presence started to affect me, so Justice took to my side, day in and day out. He'd watch over me while I slept, chased Rolan off when he lingered. In that time, we talked more, grew closer…"

Anders swallowed thickly.

"He would talk me down when I panicked. He was there when the nightmares became more frequent, more intense." He refused to look at either of them for a moment, his gaze distant. "I wasn't taking care of myself, and Justice knew that I was about to make a run for it. Out of self-preservation, if nothing else. But Justice saw an opportunity for us both. We liked each other. We worked well together, and his days were numbered in Kristoff's body. He wouldn't hold on forever. He wouldn't put Aura through that."

Garrett took Anders' hand in his with a reassuring squeeze.

Blue light flooded through their veins. Web-like cracks split open their skin, their eyes glowing bright.

"We will never feel so powerless again," they stated. The power of the Fade resonated through their voice. "We swore then that we wouldn't stop until all mages live free of the fear and oppression they suffer under the Chantry's rule."

Nathaniel considered that, cautious to approach at first, but then he shifted closer.

He placed a hand upon their shoulder.

"Justice," he said, "what happened?"

"When I left Kristoff's body to join with Anders, Rolan rallied other templars and wardens against us. They called us an abomination, and then they attacked." They could recall each second with perfect clarity. "Being attacked so soon, when we had only just merged in such a way, made the transition messy."

They lifted up their shirt to reveal the large, jagged scar over their chest, its corresponding match on their back.

"The templar tried to run us through. He did run us through, and so we tore his head clean from his body," they stated it so matter-of-factly, not even bothering to deny the horrors they inflicted during that first day together. "Everything was a blur. We wanted to make them pay for what they did to us. And by the time we regained our senses, we were all alone, surrounded by bodies torn to shreds, blood on our hands and our teeth."

Garrett brushed his fingers along the scar.

"That's how this happened," he murmured, right as Justice let the fabric fall back into place. "You never mentioned it, but I didn't want to pry either."

"We don't exactly have fond memories of being stabbed," Justice noted.

"I can't imagine why," Nathaniel said, but guilt ate at him, especially for his earlier words about Anders leaving. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that alone."

"We weren't alone," Justice assured him.

"You know what I mean."

"Nathaniel." Reaching out, they rested their hand upon his, their touch gentle. "Things might not be perfect now, but Anders and I made it through the worst by relying on each other. We didn't know at the time whether or not we could even control ourselves. We didn't want to risk you or the others, so we left. We didn't leave because of you, though."

Nathaniel sighed.

"Well, that's a relief, at least."

Their light died down, Anders slowly regaining control.

"In our defense, this was all your idea," Anders told him. "You were the one to suggest that Justice look for a living host."

Nate blinked owlishly at him.

"You remember that conversation?" he asked, bewildered. "How does that work exactly? Are all of his memories yours and vice versa, or…?"

"Something like that." He repeated to Nathaniel an explanation similar to what he once told Hawke. "I can't really say where one of us starts and the other ends. There are times when I'm the one in control and others when it's mostly Justice, but we're both still there. I'm still me, but it's us now. It's like we're two people and one at the same time." With a resigned grumble, Anders gave a half-shrug. "It's hard to explain."

"So, when Justice was in Kristoff's body…" Nathaniel looked as if he would be sick. "You can remember that?"

"I can," he answered slowly, "but I would rather not think about it, if possible."

"Wait, wait, wait," Garrett said. "You're telling me that you have memories…" He gestured vaguely, overall speechless. "Of possessing a corpse?"

"Yes, now, can we please stop talking about this?"

Silently, Nathaniel and Garrett exchanged a pointed look.

"Are you, uh, okay?" Garrett asked.

"Not right now, I'm not. Not if you two keep pestering me about this."

"Are you okay, in general?" Nathaniel countered.

Anders opened his mouth, paused, then closed it.

"Believe it or not, I am," he admitted. "I mean, I have purpose here. Our friends feel like a sort of makeshift family at times, and I have a man that I love, who loves me in return. Life is good right now."

He didn't entertain thoughts of the future, not now, not when things were peaceful, if only for a moment.

Garrett beamed up at Anders, shifting closer to his side.

Their love for each other was so apparent that Nathaniel couldn't help but to smile just from watching them.

"Glad to know things are working out for you," Nate said, ruminating on his thoughts with a playful chuckle. "Although, it's nice to know that some things never change."

Anders stared at him in confusion.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that, after all these years, you're still sporting the whole feathered pauldron look with robes that scream 'I'm a rebel mage!' I'm surprised to see you in casual attire for once," Nathaniel teased. "Although, if not even a Spirit of Justice or living amongst the nobility could change your tastes in robes and armor, then I certainly have no hope."

"I— What's wrong with my robes?!"

"Nothing, if there is an actual benefit to wearing them."

Garrett snickered, so Anders turned his glare on him instead.

"Whose side are you even on?"

"The one that supports your individuality, of course," Garrett replied, not once missing a beat.

"Heh, good answer."

"You managed to charm me at least, feathers and all."

"Miracles never cease," Nathaniel deadpanned.

"Not that it matters anyhow," Anders muttered. Before he could stop himself, the words came spilling out of his mouth. "You've always been the type that cares more about how I look out of my robes than in them."

Both Garrett and Nathaniel tensed, and it took a solid minute for Anders' mind to catch up with what he said.

He instantly buried his face into his hands, his cheeks burning red with a growing blush.

"Can we forget I just said that?"

"Not a chance," Garrett chuckled. He leaned around Anders to quirk a brow up at Nathaniel. "Remind me, what was the extent of your relationship again?"

"I, uh—" Even Nathaniel grew uncharacteristically bashful at that, stumbling over his words, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. "Well, you see…"

"Seriously?" Anders grumbled with a nudge to Garrett’s side.

"What? I'm just curious!"

"Yeah, and if I started asking about your past relationships?" Anders peeked at him between his fingers, eyes narrowed. "Fenris? Varric?"

Garrett lifted his head up in challenge, his smirk mischievous.

"Defensive much? I'm an open book," Garrett said. "Fenris left for his own reasons, so we simply didn't work out after the fact. Varric was a one night fling, and we were both well aware of that fact beforehand."

"Uh-huh." Anders hid his grin behind his hands. "What about Sebastian?"

"What about him?"

"Would you have slept with him too, if not for his vow of chastity?"

"Oh, no." Garrett shook his head. "No, no, no. Of course not." Then, he stopped to think it over. "Well, on second thought…"

"You're shameless!" Anders laughed.

"He definitely wants to fuck me, though," Garrett responded.

"He definitely does."

"His loss, though, but you're avoiding the question." Garrett poked Anders in the arm. "Nothing to be ashamed of, you two. At the end of the day, I love you and Justice, Anders. I'm committed to you, but I do want you to be as happy as possible, and if Nathaniel—"

"If you're asking if we slept together, then yes," Nathaniel cut in, tired of the back and forth.

Anders yelped, caught off guard, but Garrett choked on his words with a snort.

"I knew it!"

"Multiple times, actually."

"Nate!" Anders scolded, but even he couldn't hold back his wide, radiant grin.

"I mean, would you be interested in doing that again?" Eyeing Nathaniel up and down, Garrett even had the audacity to wink at him, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. "I wouldn't mind if you joined us for a bit of fun. With Anders' permission, of course."

Wedged in between them, Anders was suddenly all too aware of the heat emanating from their bodies.

Nathaniel considered the offer, right before he pressed himself flush against Anders' side

"Well, what do you say, Anders?" He tucked blonde hair back behind his ear, whispering to him, breathless with an all-too-familiar desire. "For old times' sake?"

Flashes of memories sparked to life in the back of his mind. Stolen moments in the barracks at Vigil's Keep. Passionate nights spent upstairs in his very own bed. All of it came rushing back to him, all at once.

One thing about Justice, he was a bit of a romantic.

Experiencing echoes of love through Kristoff's memories was one thing, but experiencing the emotion firsthand through Anders was another feeling entirely. It was like comparing a candle's heat to the burn of a pyromancer's strongest spells, intense and all-consuming.

Safe to say, Anders was feeling a little overwhelmed on all ends.

In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet.

A bright light shot through him, there and gone in an instant.

Facing Garrett and Nathaniel, he tugged at his collar with a sheepish grin, walking backwards out the door, only to bump into the frame.

"Well, would you look at that?! We're going to be late for Wicked Grace night if we don't hurry, and I, for one, can use a drink after the day I've had."

"That's not a 'no,'" Garrett noted, always the optimist.

"It's not," Anders agreed, "but I'm not answering either of you until I've played a round of cards, lost all my coin, and have some half-decent ale in my system."

With that, he left the room. Garrett and Nathaniel stood up to follow, dusting themselves off.

"I assume that means we'll resume this conversation later," Nathaniel said.

Garrett looped his arm through Nathaniel's, dragging him along with a joyous laugh.

"Definitely."

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #da2 #anders #garrett hawke #nathaniel howe #da justice #handers #nanders #nathanders #justice positive #custom hawke #bluerose writes #tw cannibalism #only because i included parts from anders' short story so 😅#just to be on the safe side

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cyanocoraxx · 1 month

Text

bracken (this won't make much sense if you haven't read the original fic btw)

What happens next?

The part where you feel like you can't run away from your pain. What happens when your mind is shattered and you must go on functioning?

Mecha had given himself time; oh, so much time. He knew he could not repair this pain overnight - he knew it all too well, having lived with it for months. He would come out of sleep mode and try his best, even if trying his best sometimes only meant coming out of sleep mode in the first place. He accompanied his siblings on their various journeys no matter how much he sometimes just wanted to close himself off. He would take small steps.

But it was too slow. The process dragged on and, by Chaos, it wasn't linear enough for a machine that worked best on logic. It was something that Mecha was coming to resent, deep down beneath the stoic and calm outer appearance.

The therapeutic literature wasn't helping. There was so much conflicting advice, and Mecha wasn't sure what to believe despite studying article upon article. Neo and Silver were a big help, sure, but even they couldn't fully understand Mecha's inner turmoil at times, nor would Mecha ask them to.

No two people experienced trauma the same way after all. Neo and Silver were practically the perfect model organisms for that statement.

So one evening, Mecha departed. She left their warehouse home whilst they were in town with one location in mind - the very place she thought she would never return to again. Perhaps exposure was the only way forward, and she was willing to try anything out of desperation.

The symbol had plagued Mecha's thoughts, vision and emotions for a long time now. A bold, white letter "G", surrounded by fronds resembling ferns. Stars dotted around the center in some attempt to look important. Mecha stared up at the crumbled fortress gates where this very logo stood. Whether five minutes or five hours passed during this time, she wasn't sure, and didn't care to check. She took the first tentative step through the crack between the towering remains, utterly dwarfed between them.

At once Mecha felt small.

> PROCEEDING COULD RISK AI INSTABILITY. DO NOT PROCEED.

Scattered remains of deactivated, destroyed, or otherwise inactive machines that once scouted the fortress littered the entrance. Dismissing the warning in her HUD, Mecha stepped over them, keeping hershoulders square and head raised in some attempt to stay composed. She then followed along the straight path towards the bunkers. Footsteps wet and heavy, she stopped for a moment amidst the now empty bunkers and surveyed each one. Before, soldiers had stayed here - and Mecha recounted how he had walked this path with Neo before, protecting them from the humans amidst sharp exchanges. How they had met the soldier who assisted them here. Pisces. How Sonic had arrived soon after, with Silver barely clinging on to reality in tow.

> OBJECT BLOCKED (TO PREVENT POTENTIAL CONFLICT)

Mecha wandered on, feet trudging slowly through the thick mud towards the main building of the fortress. It was here that Mecha began to hesitate. Memories teetered just on the edge of his mind. Familiar fear coiled in his frame. He stepped around an inactive F-6T Spider Troop Big Foot mech and tried to walk on.

Perhaps this was a bad idea. Maybe they were in over their head. Maybe they should just go home. Be with their brothers. Be safe.

Except, Mecha had found himself in a dissociated trance, and by the time he came back to reality he was already inside. Back within the red-lit corridors that sprawled out like a maze. Mecha was a small animal in an engineered trap, infinitesimally tiny. Blinking lights ahead, those of dying exit signs and underpowered light bulbs, beckoned him like a moth to a lampshade.

"I was supposed to cease functioning here. If not for Neo, Silver and Sonic's intervention, I would have."

He looked down at his hands, raising one to find that it was shaking. His tremors were in overdrive now, so much so that he could hear the metal of his frame vibrate when he recalibrated his auditory sensors. Slowly, Mecha looked to his left to see a broken wall.

This was where he and Neo had fought. The memory was painful. Looking on, Mecha could see that everything was still in disarray - the computer on the floor, in pieces, and the table overturned.

> OBJECT BLOCKED (TO PREVENT POTENTIAL CONFLICT). DO NOT ACCESS.

"I hurt him. He lied. He said that it did not hurt, but I hurt him."

Guilt. Something Mecha had come to despise feeling. It was a strange, sickly kind of pain, one that gripped her entire frame with shame and hurt. But this wasn't about re-living all of the bad - Mecha somehow, amongst the swirling pain, mustered up the courage to tell herself something else.

"But it was not my fault. I attempted to prevent this. I… was injured, too. The situation was beyond my control. My brothers are safe now."

Mecha walked on, leaving this behind. This was the first step of many. A start to whatever this was. He still wasn't quite certain. All he knew now was that he was en route to that place. The place that had haunted his sleep mode for months. The images that brute forced their way into his consciousness over and over for seemingly no reason.

> WHYISTHISHAPPENING_WHYISTHISHAPPENING.

Turning a corner, Mecha soon found himself facing this inner demon. And he faced his cell with the fear of a cervine. Like an animal in headlights, he stared on through the dark. The only light here was that of his red visor, illuminating the center with a stark crimson glow. His vision trailed down to the spot where his chains had once bound him - now gone, of course, but he could see them.

> WHYISTHISHAPPENINGTOME_WHYISTHISHAPPENINGTOME. THEYMIGHTHURTMYBROTHERS_

Something so simple. A room: four corners, a door, the absolute precision, the sharp and straight corners, evenly-spaced bars in a perfectly square window on the door. Trembling with some unknown emotion, Mecha slowly moved in. And there he stood, in the middle, alone. He wasn't sure if it was fear or anger within, now, and it didn't matter. It felt wrong either way. It felt cold and hot at the same time, contrasting, and unbalanced somewhere deep inside. He looked up to see a security camera staring coldly at him, unfeeling and unfazed.

"All that I suffered, all that I endured, here…"

The camera looked through him, silent.

"Why me. What wrong did I commit."

It was brave enough that Mecha managed to find her voice in this room. Perhaps speaking aloud was her way of feeling less alone. Less caged. With herself as her guide she moved further inward, pacing slowly around each corner in a perfect square. Upon the left wall, she spotted something that had not been there before. She steeled herself mentally before reaching up with a trembling hand, fingertips grazing over a wad of paper stuck to the concrete. These were notes. Notes about what had been done to her. Her brothers had destroyed the servers here, functionally destroying all data they held on Mecha, but it appeared written accounts still existed.

And that re-opened the wound in a way she wasn't prepared for.

- Memory banks accessed 08:00PM. All video footage to be studied. May provide important information about the whereabouts of Ivo Robotnik. May provide intelligence regarding his inventions' schematics. Noted that subject stores a small number of names in its memory under the allocation "friend" or "brother." These are to be altered throughout the course of the experiments to study the effects.

"I could have hurt all of you."

- Subject's CPU overclocked 08:30PM. Overheat protection disabled - effects appear to exacerbate subject's viral load. CPU underclock appears to slow viral replication. Subject unresponsive 08:35PM.

"I should have hurt all of you."

Mecha turned and punched a clenched fist straight through the wall. It crumbled as if it was nothing beneath his knuckles, his immense strength clear.

"I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU."

- 10:00PM. Subject's RAM removed for testing. Subject immediately signalled distress and overheat protection enabled to reduce risk. Subject vocalized excessively and requested humane disposal. Noted that the names previously mentioned had their allocations altered as a result of the RAM removal. RAM returned 10:30PM. Subject became violent.

He punched it again, another hole, another broken knuckle joint.

"WHY DID I NOT KILL YOU?!"

- 11:00PM. Subject extremely aggressive/distressed? All testing has ceased for the time being. Subject repeatedly and excessively requesting its "father" and "brothers." When queried, subject does not appear to be able to describe who these individuals are.

And again.

- 00:00. Subject restrained. Has attempted self-destruction. Unsuccessful due to our control of it. Testing is inadvisable due to dangerous behaviour. Strictly authorized personnel to approach only.

"WHY. I ONLY BEGAN TO FEEL FEAR BECAUSE OF YOU."

And again.

"WHY? I WAS A CHILD."

Again. Again. Again. The paper was long destroyed, shreds all over the floor around him.

"I WISH I HAD KILLED YOU. I WISH I HAD KILLED YOU. I WISH I HAD KILLED YOU!"

Minutes passed before Mecha regained enough composure to realize what he had done. Slowly, he withdrew his hand to find his knuckles dented and marred black. With a small, static-laden sob he gripped his fist tightly to his chest and sat down, finding a corner and shuffling into it desperately. Tremors wracked his frame as he rocked back and forth, terrified and enraged and in too much pain to process any of this.

"It is alright... it is alright... it... they will not..."

An hour passed. Mecha remained in this corner, frozen in time and place. But slowly, sensibility began to return. Slowly, he noted the lack of sound outside of the room, the cool temperature, the lack of heat signatures. He took a small moment to focus inward on the sound of his own operations - the way his engine hummed low, the way his components clicked when he moved them, the slight hiss of hydraulics as he shifted a knee out. He lifted his head slowly and looked on through the open door. Saw the small stream of smoke that had formed just above the floor from his engine. It hovered as a ghostly veil dancing in white and grey, gentle around the violence of the broken cell.

Mecha hung his head and shuddered. The cage was open but he wouldn't leave. He wanted to damn himself. He wanted to cry and scream and shout:

I am hurt. I am hurt,

But nobody would come.

Something clicked in Mecha's mind right then. No, nobody was coming this time. This time, Mecha would have to save himself - and he could. He could rewrite this narrative in the present. Make something of all of this, somehow.

"I am... still here."

Slowly, shakily, Mecha brought himself to a stand. He steadied himself and looked on.

"Despite."

Despite the tremors and sickly fear, Mecha began to take the first tentative steps out of that cage. The smoke swirled around his feet as he moved, kicking up into the air, weaving through his joint sockets as if to wash away the hurt.

"I could have killed you, but I did not. I resisted. A part of me wished to do so, and yet, I refused. I had no empathy for any of you."

The ex-war machine walked the corridors with no end goal in mind. Stepped over and around trashed robots on the floor who had once helped to keep him there.

"I still bear no empathy for you. But, I recognize that you have families. Friends. Loved ones, who will await your return. I could not force my pain upon those beings, for it is not just. This is my choice... although I understand that many in my situation would likely not take the same inaction. My lack of empathy does not suggest a lack of compassion."

"I would not be worse than you if I had hurt you in return. But, I would also not be better. I suppose, my response to what occurred is my own. There is no correct or incorrect manner that I could have responded to it. I simply responded. I had no choice. But, I am thankful that I did not harm you. I am thankful that further violence was not necessary for my freedom."

"There was no lesson to be learned. It did not somehow strengthen my psyche. It simply was. I simply am."

Mecha stepped into another room, the entrance lit by a fading fire exit sign. He picked up a metal rod, like the one that had been used to control him at one point - a rather pointless way for them to try to cause him physical pain when he couldn't feel it. He tested its weight in his hands for a moment, then turned and walked back out into the corridor.

"This is what I could have done if I so decided."

The robot went on a warpath. He walked faster, picking up the pace with the rod dragging behind him, screeching metal-on-metal until he was running. He began smashing anything and everything in his path, from monitors on walls to cameras to fire alarms to windows. Doors would cave in. Glass would SMASH. Mecha asserted complete mechanical dominance over every little object, forcing his will over it, so that it might burn and smash into pieces beneath his grip.

"I can still fight."

But this time around, the anger was controlled. Mecha picked his targets consciously. Knew exactly how much force to exert. Knew to channel his hedgehog-murdering tendencies into all of this. He chose to wield his anger well. Eventually, he abandoned the metal rod for the use of his own abilities, using steeled fists, precise and powerful kicks, and smashing straight through doors with his own frame.

"I can still defend myself."

And so, Mecha rammed through a fire escape at the end with his shoulder and stumbled into the outdoors. He was met by the same mud and light rain as before. He stood, engine revving loudly, smoke billowing from behind, visor bright with a precise anger. If he wanted to, he could continue on this warpath. Continue out here, for the world to see, for In his prime, Mecha was lethal. A death machine. Trained and raised to kill without remorse. If he could do this to inanimate objects, he could do far worse to an organic being if he so chose to. But, he had been choosing not to for a long time now. The realization put a stop to the robot's anger quickly. Instead, he now felt a strange sort of relief, as if something had been let out that had been held within for too long.

It felt cathartic, in a small way. She would have to dwell on this later, really try to understand why this was.

She looked down, calming her engine at the same time, to find a small fern sprouting in the dirt. Its fronds curled delicately inward in the same way that all baby ferns did.

Her visor slowly dimmed, signaling that she was settling down, as she knelt to look.

"Pteridium aquilinum. Common bracken."

With the gentleness she had learned to wield, Mecha carefully picked the tiny plant up and held it cupped in her hands, holding it up to get a better look. Plants had fascinated her for a while now, especially knowing that they could perceive light, touch, wind, and even sound to some extent. She couldn't imagine what it was like to live that kind of existence - seeing but unseeing, rooted but free, unknowing but somehow knowing all at once. It was a strange kind of innocence. All Mecha knew was that, like he would his brothers, he wanted to protect that innocence even if he didn't understand it.

"You will not fare well in this location, small fern. I shall take you with me and provide you with optimal conditions. Though, I must question how you have managed to survive in such alkaline soil."

He held the fern to his chest in a gently closed hand and made his way back to the main gates, following back through his own footsteps.

"I will keep you safe."

Mecha wasn't alone for long. He heard something in his peripheral and clocked an aircraft moving quickly towards him. Immediately he was on the defensive, prepared to fight or flee depending on the situation - but the situation was more... confusing.

A familiar face met him from above. Looking up, he saw Eggman staring down at him with some unreadable expression.

"Son."

"... Father."

"Long time no see, my boy." Eggman offered, seeming hesitant.

Mecha began to walk on by, disregarding him purposely. "I suppose I have inherited your tendency to cease searching."

"Wait. Stop."

Mecha paused. A small grain of anger prickled him somewhere deep. "Why have you come here. It is abnormal for you to seek me out specifically."

"I was... checking."

Mecha stayed quiet. Let that prickle run its course - it had clearly helped before to just let himself feel, no matter how foreign it felt.

Eggman heaved a sigh. He rubbed his face with a hand as if both relieved and tired. "You just threw out a distress signal directly to me, you pesky little creature. I was checking that you weren't taken by those government rats again."

Oh. Mecha hadn't realized that he had done that. A quick check of his action logs confirmed this - amongst several exterior damage notifications from caving in the walls.

"... I was not." Mecha answered simply.

"Well, good. Very good indeed." Eggman replied, now trying to sound unbothered with a dismissive flick of his hand.

"Why have you responded? You have declared yourself an enemy of myself and my brothers. What interest could you possibly sustain with us, particularly in regard to our wellbeing? It is unusual for you to question it."

"What? Is an old man not allowed to care about his-"

Mecha cut him off. "You revoked that right not too long ago, I believe. Your true intention laid out clearly would be highly appreciated, for I am not in a sound psychological state at this time."

Eggman leaned forward in his Eggmobile, almost tauntingly. "Fine. If anyone is going to defeat you and that spiny rodent, it's me. Only me. Got that, Mecha?"

Mecha tilted his head, that small amount of anger quickly replaced by bafflement. "That is highly illogical. You would ensure that I was not destroyed by a third party, but bear no conscience in doing so by your own hand."

"Well, yes, I suppose so. But does that matter? I still came to look for you. Be grateful, you little robotic rat."

"What you have said is beyond my understanding. Good day, doctor." Mecha responded with a shake of his head and went to walk on, again.

"I'm still your creator, Mecha. I'm allowed to care once in a while!"

Mecha opened his hand to look at the seedling within. "That time has come to pass, doctor. I know what I am, who I am, and what matters to me. Your hand in my existence was fleeting, and the experiences that I have had since that time are significantly more meaningful. You have come seeking me far too late. That is not a matter that I have any intention of comforting you for, if that is what you seek."

"I had my reasons. You're smart, Mecha, I'm sure you know. It's all for the greater good of the empire."

Mecha didn't stop or look back. "Doctor, father, I gave you everything I had. That was worth more. I... was worth more."

The two parted ways.

Mecha returned home, where Neo and Silver met him halfway, having already left to look for him. They quickly greeted him with concern and relief. Neo helped Mecha to plant his bracken in a pot, complete with acidic soil, by steadying his tremoring hands with his own. Silver provided a blanket and a reading of Mecha's current favourite computer manual.

Maybe he couldn't run from his pain, but he could run home to what mattered, and keep on going, despite.

#fanfiction #trauma tw #abuse tw #mecha sonic #let mecha kill <3 she deserves it #jk if she doesnt want to thats her choice

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