#its not life threatening nor sight importing nor painful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themurphyzone · 10 months

Text

Pinky Unleashed Ch 13

AN: This chapter marks the end of the Europe arc! Introduction arcs a pain cause you wanna get to the juicy stuff lol.

AO3 Link

Ch 13: Next Stop Anywhere

Their first mission didn't end in victory, nor was it a sound defeat either. Oh, Brain resolutely believed they'd emerged victorious through the dangers and trials of the Earth Temple at first.

They restored Europe to its proper location. And now that they possessed the Earth Gem, they could finally move on to the next Temple.

By accomplishing those two goals, victory was achieved.

Yet the feeling was short-lived.

The celebratory mood vanished when Brain lost control of himself and hugged Pinky's wrist. It was warm and soft to the touch, and if a cloud could be embraced, Brain was sure it would've felt like Pinky's fur.

And within seconds, he'd landed flat on his face.

Brain let his guard down. And Pinky fled from him.

What happened? Pinky's tail had been wagging moments before! He was celebrating with them! He should've been open for one!

In all the time Brain had known him, Pinky never rejected a hug when it was offered! And he was irritating about embraces too, always trying to wrap his arms around Brain like a ridiculously clingy octopus when he was lugging machinery around, solving an important equation, or working with dangerous chemicals.

Would Pinky have been more open to receiving a hug from Chip? Or anyone besides Brain?

A home he couldn't reach before the net descended upon him. Sweet-scented cheese he couldn't eat before the electricity hurt him. A friend he couldn't save from being swallowed whole by the machine. A world he couldn't conquer no matter how hard he tried. A kindhearted mouse, who remained kindhearted even though his body was host to a Lovecraftian horror, reaching out as darkness and despair snuffed out the light and color he'd brought to a bleak, hopeless world.

He was used to failure and rejection.

He'd become somewhat desensitized to it of course, but occasionally, it all came back to haunt him. And there was a possibility that he'd never be able to bounce back.

The pain from falling down cleared up quickly. Yet the sight of Pinky running away remained with him.

Brain wished Teros had left behind something mildly life-threatening as they trudged back to the surface world. Thinking about their survival chances would've distracted him from all these doubts, fears, and uncertainties.

But the Earth Guardian kept his word, and nothing threatened them within the labyrinth. The oppressive darkness had lifted, and now they were able to see guiding arrows carved within the walls, pointing the way to the exit.

Chip flew somewhere above his head, his movement somewhat impeded by the cumbersome Earth Gem. Brain refused to carry anything left by Teros unless he absolutely had to, and Pinky was too emotionally compromised to follow directions at the moment. True, Teros gave them valuable information, but Brain only recalled the devastation on Pinky’s face when the hotheaded bull called him a monster.

Pinky wouldn’t have lost control if Teros hadn’t threatened him in the first place!

On the battlefield, he’d turned away as Pinky lifted the great stone pillar overhead. He remembered that pitch-black form, the intimidating aura, the blank white eyes…and for that brief moment, he thought Pinky was gone forever, claimed by the darkness he was trying his hardest to fight.

Pinky had snapped out of it this time, even showing mercy to his opponent by digging him out instead of finishing him off, but they were only at the beginning of a long and arduous journey.

The perils would only increase from this point forward.

And so does the possibility of Pinky losing control. Permanently.

Pinky had been distant ever since they’d left the inner sanctum. He didn’t make many vocalizations except the occasional whimper, his tail dragging limply behind him as he trudged ahead. Brain didn’t scold him for disobeying the rule to stick together. If there was danger, Pinky would’ve alerted them by now.

Though Pinky never wandered too far ahead and waited for them to catch up if Brain and Chip fell behind, his eyes flitted around nervously as he tried to make himself as small and nonthreatening as possible. But his thick fur puffed out with fear, and he only succeeded in making himself look bigger instead.

Nobody said a word as they reached the end of the labyrinth and ascended the stone staircase, finally emerging into the earthy dome they’d first seen when they entered the Temple. Brain kicked aside a tiny remnant of the bull statue to get back at him for hurting Pinky.

It didn’t feel satisfying though. Nothing about this situation did.

Their victory rang hollow.

"Hey, Brain? What's gonna happen now that we've got the Earth Gem?" Chip asked, uneasily moving away from the remains of the bull statue.

He spoke with an easy familiarity, like he and Brain had known each other their whole lives instead of several days.

The only reason Brain allowed Chip to tag along was due to his ability to open Gaia Temples and heal them when they were injured.

Well, that and he kept Pinky from loneliness while we were separated…

Alliances with third parties never lasted long. It was best to maintain a certain distance, like work colleagues.

Regardless of Brain dancing around the inner sanctum like a drunken fool with him and Pinky.

That line of thought was soon forgotten.

The tunnel leading to the catacombs and freedom stretched out ahead of them. They were almost there!

Eager to escape this oppressive tomb, Brain and Chip hurried into the tunnel.

Then a loud, agonized whine from Pinky suddenly drew Brain's attention.

Alarmed, Brain stopped and turned to face Pinky, who was still huddled at the entrance, great tremors passing through his body.

"Come, Pinky!" Brain shouted impatiently, his voice echoing through the tunnel. "We don't have time to dawdle!"

He was only shouting out of habit though. He could tell from the trembling step Pinky took inside the tunnel that Pinky wasn't intentionally trying to delay them.

"Pinky, what's the matter? We're almost outta here. Just a little more!" Chip exclaimed, his tone wavering in panic, hovering inches away from Pinky's nose.

Pinky's blue eyes widened, his entire body tensing with fear. His breathing became shallower, his ears flattening against his head while his tail lashed behind him.

“Chip, you’re stressing him out!” Brain shouted, and his failure to contain his own panic only caused Pinky to thrash around more. “Give him space!”

“But Pinky’s-” Chip protested.

He flinched as Pinky unleashed a howl and backed out of the tunnel, forcing Chip to duck to avoid the lashing tail.

They were promised safe passage out of the Temple, so there was no reason for Pinky to lose control here!

As Brain followed Pinky out of the tunnel, belatedly reminding himself to slow down so Pinky didn’t pick up on his fears, he realized that Pinky’s dark fur was slowly losing its hue, draining to dark gray, then light gray, and finally to a snowy white. The tips of his tufted ears were becoming round, losing their sharp, wolf-like edges, while the claws on his feet were shrinking away.

Pinky was changing back.

But if he’s finally returning to normal, then…is it dawn already?

Had they truly spent an entire night in the Temple? Brain had lost all sense of time between managing his companions, planning their next move, and escaping danger.

Pinky whimpered as he stumbled into a corner of the room, collapsing on his side and curling into a steadily shrinking ball of fur.

He’d only seen Pinky transform back once before, since he slept through the second, but he didn’t remember the reversion taking a long time, or causing much pain.

The sad, pathetic whines were all Brain could hear, Pinky’s watery blue eyes piercing into his soul, silently begging for Brain to ease the transition.

Yet nothing prepared Brain for this moment. What could he possibly do if Pinky became distressed by a simple touch?

All he could do was remain nearby, and hope nothing tried to attack them while Pinky was in such a compromised state.

“Sit down and rest for a while, Chip,” Brain said as he sat in a rubble-free spot. He was close enough to keep an eye on Pinky, but far enough where his proximity wouldn’t bring further distress to Pinky. “We’ll remain here until Pinky’s transformation is finished. And neither of us should touch him until he’s light enough to be moved.”

Chip sat down on a brick, setting the Earth Gem next to him. “I guess I could use a rest…” he said, though from how he nervously glanced at Pinky, it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew Pinky would be alright.

Pinky turned his head away as the color drained from his muzzle, though he kept one ear turned towards Brain.

Even through his pain, he was still relying on Brain’s instructions. So he decided to talk, if only to give Pinky something to focus on.

“Here’s the plan after we leave this dreadful place,” Brain said. Once he had their attention, Brain took a deep breath and continued with his explanation, drawing lines in the soil just to give his hands something to do. “We’ll meet up with Professor Pickle and Marco. They should still be in or around the catacombs when they realize we’re missing. Because it’s daylight, we’ll have a brief reprieve from Dark Gaia.”

Pinky’s heavy breathing started to even out, his body gradually shrinking in size.

“We should remain vigilant though. Snowball hasn’t tried to reclaim Professor Pickle or his research yet, but he might make an attempt in the future. Unlike Dark Gaia, he isn’t limited to nighttime attacks.”

Brain forcefully erased everything he drew in the dirt, only stopping when Pinky let out a whine. He was the size of a large dog now, his protruding fangs blunting into a pair of buckteeth. The reversion had slowed down, so Brain clamped down on his worries about a future confrontation with Snowball. Those concerns could be voiced once Pinky wasn’t distressed.

“We’ll turn the Earth Gem over to the professor temporarily,” Brain said, nodding towards the gem in question. “He won’t pass up the opportunity to expand his own research, and he can help us determine the location of the next Gaia Temple.”

Chip rocked back and forth on his brick, yelping when he clumsily tumbled over. “Can we get breakfast while the professor does his research? I haven’t eat anything all night!”

“Are you capable of thinking without your stomach when you aren’t in danger?” Brain asked scathingly.

But when Pinky’s tail thumped at the promise of food, Brain was forced to concede that further rest and a meal break were necessary before they carried on.

“Nope!” Chip replied.

Well, at least he was honest.

“...B-brain?” a tiny, weak voice whispered.

Brain’s heart lurched into his throat, and he stumbled over his feet as he ran over to Pinky. His snowy fur appeared a pale, ghostly white in the dim lighting. His fingernails were still slightly longer than normal, but from a distance it could easily be passed off as a lack of trimming.

Pinky’s blue eyes were bleary as he tried to focus on Brain. To Brain’s relief, they weren’t glowing anymore. His shrinking had ceased too.

He was finally back to the size he should’ve been all along.

“I’m right here, Pinky,” Brain said, and though he tried to sound firm, hints of desperation and relief leaked through his tone.

Pinky slowly uncurled his body as he gave Brain an unlikely smile. “...narf,” he whispered.

Brain had never been so happy to hear that utterly ridiculous, nonsensical word with no proper definition, and relieved Pinky was able to talk again. A silent Pinky always worried Brain to no end.

“Can we have IHOP pancakes for breakfast? Or Denny’s? Or Waffle House if there’s one around here?” Pinky asked hopefully. “I want mine with lots and lots of maple syrup and a smiley face made out of eggs and bacon.”

“You dummy. We’re in the land of gourmet cuisine, and you want American chain food?” Brain scolded. He’d never understand how Pinky’s simple sponge of a mind worked.

“Um…no?” Pinky blinked. “Chains would be awfully hard to floss out of my teeth, Brain. And they don’t go on pancakes either.”

Pinky’s nonsense washed over Brain, oddly comforting to hear after his only form of communication had been in howls, yelps, and snarls.

He couldn’t banter with Pinky at night while he was affected by Dark Gaia. While there was no drastic personality shift, save for those frightening moments where Pinky became more aggressive, Brain had noticed that Pinky seemed more somber while he was transformed. Reserved instead of bouncing off the walls while going through the entire emotional spectrum in five seconds. Timid instead of running up to everyone they met while trying to figure out their entire life story.

I missed this.

But Brain decided against revealing a sensitive piece of information.

“You always mess up your fur when you pour maple syrup,” he said. It was safer to keep scolding him. “I’m limiting your use to three spoonfuls. Four, if I’m feeling generous.”

“Make that eight! No, make it rectangle!” Pinky exclaimed. “Rectangle’s a number, ri-”

Then he looked down and froze, the question dying on his tongue. Though Brain was about to complain about Pinky’s stupidity, he glanced down, somehow never realizing that they’d held hands throughout their conversation.

It hadn’t been a conscious choice.

Pinky inhaled sharply and pulled away, leaving Brain to grasp at empty air.

Pinky was never first to pull away.

Did I hold his hand wrong? Is there a right way to do it?

“I-I’m okay now. Zort,” Pinky said, shakily using the wall to support himself as he stood upright on unsteady legs. “I’m ready to go.”

Unable to find his voice, Brain couldn’t call out Pinky’s lie.

“I’m glad you can talk again, Pinky,” Chip said, who’d been watching in silence the entire time. He picked up the Earth Gem and held his hand out to Pinky. “Are you sure you don’t need help? I don’t mind supporting-”

“No!” Pinky shouted, leaning heavily against the wall. When Brain tried to reach for him again, Pinky recoiled, coiling his tail around his body while his arms hugged his torso to protect it from further harm. “No, I can manage! I’m not hurt anymore! Can we go already?”

His foot tapped impatiently.

Reluctantly, Brain backed away. “Keep up,” he forced out as he turned his back on Pinky and entered the tunnel, though he’d never leave Pinky behind in such a horrible place.

Chip didn’t fly this time. He kept pace with Brain on the ground instead, hugging the Earth Gem to his chest. He murmured to himself about his lost memories.

Pinky trailed far behind them, relying on the tunnel walls for support.

And Brain tried not to glance over his shoulder, not wishing to see such an energetic, happy mouse reduced to a traumatized shell.

o-o-o-o-o

Brain shielded his eyes from the harsh sun after they exited the catacombs. After wandering through darkness and dim torchlight for hours, he wasn’t used to natural brightness. On the other hand, Chip appeared rejuvenated from the sunlight, his energy steadily returning even though he hadn’t eaten yet.

But Pinky didn’t react to the change. He only dragged his feet along the ground, looked up briefly, and waited for Marco to unlock his car.

He didn’t dance with joy while singing an annoyingly merry tune about sunshine and rainbows.

But nobody else seemed to notice.

“This gem is quite fascinating,” Professor Pickle remarked, rotating the Earth Gem so that its facets glinted in the sunlight. Brain had given Chip permission to turn it over to the professor for research, though he made it clear that it was strictly on a temporary basis. “I believe I’ve finally reached a breakthrough in my studies! It’s a shame we couldn’t explore the Temple properly. It would’ve been rather enlightening, don’t you think so, Marcel?”

“Once again, professor, it’s Marco,” the assistant shook his head and unlocked his car, resigned to the professor constantly getting his name wrong. “And if by enlightening you mean that you’d like to be constantly running for your life from unknown forces in complete darkness, then yes, I’m sure it would be very enlightening.”

When Brain and Chip had recounted their trial in the Temple after reuniting with Professor Pickle and Marco, who they were forced to leave behind after Dark Gaia minions unexpectedly attacked them in the catacombs, the professor had been utterly fascinated by their harrowing tale. But the concept of the labyrinth alone had been enough to make Marco nervous and relieved that he’d never had to set foot in that terrifying location.

Pinky didn’t contribute anything to the account. And for his sake, Brain conveniently left out his battle with Teros. For all Professor Pickle and Marco knew, Teros had been so impressed with Brain’s ability to navigate the labyrinth in complete darkness that he wanted to help them save the world.

Even though it was Pinky who deserved the praise. Though Brain wanted to credit Pinky, revealing his nightly form’s abilities could prove catastrophic, so he refrained.

Though there had been a slight misstep with Chip, who almost revealed the ruse, all Brain had to do was remind him of his empty stomach as a distraction.

“Even a soil sample or pottery fragment would’ve been nice to have. Imagine that, an entire Roman temple hidden under our noses this entire time…” Professor Pickle mused. “Are you sure you can’t open the Temple for a few minutes so I can gather samples?”

This time, it was Chip who shook his head. There was an oddly thoughtful look on his face.

“Teros protected the Temple for a very long time,” he said. “I think…it would only be right if we kept it sealed to keep everything safe. Cause there’s a lot of stuff out there that would probably try to destroy it.”

“For once, I agree with you,” Brain added, ignoring the shocked look on Chip’s face. “Don’t get used to it. If Snowball found the Temple and discovered that it had been sealed off, he wouldn’t care about historical preservation. He’d only destroy everything so that nobody stands a chance against his plot.”

“...none of the pretty gems would be there anymore,” Pinky mumbled, startling everybody. He hadn’t said anything since they’d exited the Temple. If the professor or Marco caught onto Pinky’s mood, they didn’t say anything. Brain planned to pass it off as a particularly harrowing near-death experience that Pinky needed to process if they asked too many questions.

Marco opened the passenger door of his car, lowering his hand to help Pinky climb in. But Pinky winced at the sight of Marco’s fingers and grabbed the bottom of the car instead, using his surprisingly adept upper body strength to haul himself inside. Then he crawled underneath the seat and hid himself from sight.

“It’s not safe down there, Pinky,” Marco said with a frown.

There was no response.

“Drive slowly,” Brain told Marco. There was no reasoning with Pinky when he was like this. “I’ll watch him.”

Unlike Pinky, Brain accepted a brief lift into the car.

The floor was fairly clean. There were no crumbs, junk food packages, or water bottles rolling around. Still, Brain braced himself for a bumpy ride.

Though Marco opened his mouth to protest, the professor shook his head as he climbed into the passenger’s seat. “This matter is clearly something between them,” he said, and Brain was grateful for his neutrality. “Let’s focus on the mystery of this strange gem, shall we? I’d love to analyze its composition once we get back to my office.”

Chip settled on the window of the passenger’s seat, eager to see the rolling hills of the Roman countryside once again.

Marco muttered something about nobody ever listening to him as he plugged the keys into the ignition.

Though Brain’s teeth chattered during the entire ride to the city, Pinky remained disturbingly silent, and Brain wondered if he was there at all.

o-o-o-o-o

Brain didn't remember falling asleep, nor did he remember the ride back into the city. He thought he'd closed his eyes just to clear away the stressful night, but he was surprised to find himself nestled into a pile of tissues atop a desk.

No nightmares for once. Was I truly that exhausted? Or have I become desensitized to them because of everything that happened recently?

He was back in the professor's perpetually messy office, noisy chatter filling in the silence.

When he saw an old analog clock that read 11:22 am, Brain threw off the tissue paper that served as a makeshift blanket. Why was he just lying around and wasting time when there was a world in need of saving?

"Pinky, why didn't you wake me sooner?" Brain demanded. "Where's Professor Pickle's research? Or the professor for that matter? Why are all of you just lying around? We have work to do!"

Nobody heard him.

Pinky, Chip, and Marco were huddled around a large assortment of sandwiches, stuffing their faces with random meats, bread, and chocolate on the side.

Of course there would be chocolate.

"-and that's why I will never get in a ski lift with my older brother again," Marco finished, letting Chip borrow his smartphone while he grabbed another sandwich.

Chip's eyes sparkled as he tapped Marco's smartphone while eating a chocolate bar at the same time.

The screen was large enough so Pinky could see even though he was sitting at a greater distance than he normally would be. Unlike Chip, he wasn't bombarding Marco with questions about the pictures.

Even if he was subdued, there was a surprisingly content smile on his face.

Maybe their current activity was a timewaster, but Pinky was smiling for once, so Brain figured that he could allow a few more minutes of their current activity to keep him occupied.

There wasn't much they could do without the professor, who was the leading expert on the Gaia Manuscripts anyway.

"Whoa! Here's another one! What did you say these things were again, Marco?" Chip asked eagerly.

Marco blinked at him, confused. “Um…a deer?”

“Cool!” Chip exclaimed, completely oblivious to the strange look Marco was giving him. “And those weird branches on its head? What about that black stuff on its legs?”

“Antlers and hooves?” Marco said, giving Chip a strange look.

Chip wilted, finally realizing that there was something strange about the questions he asked.

Pinky didn’t seem to find anything odd about the lack of basic knowledge Chip displayed about deer. But Brain, like Marco, was rather stunned at the information Chip genuinely didn’t seem to know.

True, it was possible for someone to have never seen a deer before if they were raised in the city, but they weren’t exactly obscure animals either. Surely they would’ve seen pictures in books or the Internet.

Did Chip’s amnesia rob him of a basic understanding of the world in addition to his memories?

That question unsettled Brain more than he cared to admit.

Is that why Chip’s so nervous all the time?

“Let me see,” Brain said, his curiosity getting the better of him, and everyone’s eyes were suddenly on him. He coughed, feeling somewhat uncomfortable under all the attention.

Why couldn’t the professor hurry up with his research? Brain excelled in many fields, but socialization…well, that was Pinky’s area of expertise.

He just had to open his mouth.

“Never mind,” Brain said awkwardly. He quickly pulled a salami sandwich from the platter and devoured half of it in record time, unsure if it was because of nerves or because he hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

While Marco and Chip didn’t know what to make of his intrusion, Pinky reached over and turned the phone towards Brain. There was a small, encouraging smile on his face.

Like he didn’t mind Brain participating in their conversation. “Pretty, isn’t it?” Pinky asked.

The photo was of a rocky hiking trail surrounded by steep, forested slopes, centered on a stag with majestic antlers crossing the trail in front of the cameraperson.

Brain shrugged, unable to reply properly with his mouthful of bread and cheese. There was nothing particularly special about the stag. It didn’t have any unusual coloration or markings.

“It’s a red deer,” Marco explained. “I took this photo during my family’s hiking trip in the Alps a few weeks before term started. We like to visit every summer. This stag just popped out of nowhere. Nearly scared my brother into a heart attack, but it wasn’t interested in us. Just wanted some leaves.”

“Doesn’t it look like a real life Bambi, Brain?” Pinky added.

“The resemblance is only surface level, Pinky,” Brain said, polishing off the last of his sandwich. “Bambi was based off a white-tailed deer, a North American species. They don’t live in Europe like their red deer cousins.”

Marco took his phone back as Chip took in that piece of information. Resting his head against his hand, Marco scrolled through the contents of his phone with a wistful expression.

“Ask Brain anything you want about deer,” Pinky suggested. “He knows a lot about this sort of thing. He taught me everything I know about acorn barnacles!”

Brain felt his cheeks heat up. He was relieved that Pinky was talkative again, but did he have to remind Brain about that embarrassing acorn barnacle conversation? Whenever Brain recalled that night, all he could do was wonder what in Ptolemy’s name he’d been thinking, because he could’ve picked dolphins or sea otters or seals, which were far more beloved and well-known animals than acorn barnacles.

Chip scratched his head. “Well, the antlers still look weird to me. How does the deer even walk around with those things? They look kinda heavy. I think I’d get tangled up in tree branches if I tried to fly like that.”

"They've adapted," Brain said. He refrained from telling Chip about moose and elk. The size of those creatures were sure to blow his mind. "And they don't have antlers all the time. They're used to attract mates and fight other males for dominance during the breeding season, but they'll drop off when the deer focuses on surviving the harsh winter instead of reproducing."

"Attract…mates?" Chip echoed. He didn't seem to understand the concept.

There was a rather mischievous grin on Pinky's face. "Well you see Chip, when a daddy deer and a mommy deer love each other very much-"

Brain nailed Pinky's side with an eraser before he could finish his sentence. Chip was completely wide-eyed as he tried to draw his own conclusions, but was coming up short.

"We aren't discussing that, Pinky!" Brain snapped. Was the thermostat in this room broken? Why was it so hot in here?

Pinky raised an eyebrow as he chewed on the eraser. Though he'd been knocked down by Brain's throw, he was otherwise unfazed.

"What?" Pinky frowned, sounding genuinely confused. "Why can't I tell him about the baby deer factory in the sky and the stork deliverymen?"

Brain rubbed his forehead, trying to prevent a headache before it began.

"Because you'd be giving completely false information to someone with next to no knowledge about the world," Brain sighed.

Pinky frowned. “Storks deliver babies. You didn’t know that?”

Chip’s eyes flitted between them, completely and hopelessly lost. “I…really don’t know what a factory is. Or a stork.”

Marco groaned and buried his head in his hands, his phone falling from his hand with a loud thud. “Guys, can we not talk about the intricacies of deer reproduction right now? How did you even get on that topic from a single picture?”

“I was only explaining the function of antlers!” Brain protested. He’d only used the scientific explanation! “Pinky’s the one who decided to go off on that tangent!”

“I don’t remember yelling at any tangerines lately,” Pinky said innocently.

A little too innocently, considering it was his fault that deer reproduction was brought up at all.

“Okay, I think I understand now!” Chip exclaimed, hitting his fist against an open palm as he came to a sudden realization. “When a mommy deer and daddy deer love each other very much, the sky factory will send a stork to um…deliver antlers?”

“Deliver babies, actually,” Pinky grinned, even though there was so much wrongness to unpack with that sentence alone. “But you’ve got it! Narf!”

“Hooray!” Chip took to the air in excitement, Pinky cheering alongside him, even though there was absolutely zero reason to be cheering.

Great Scott, there's two of them, Brain internally groaned. It was a futile battle from the beginning. I can't believe the world is depending on my ability to lead this ragtag group.

He wondered if he should just hijack the airwaves now to inform humanity about the looming apocalypse, and if they wanted to survive in a future of darkness, they'd better hoard all the canned beans and toilet paper they could fit into their secret underground bunkers.

“I don’t get paid enough to deal with all thi-” Marco’s complaint died on his tongue as he flicked to the next picture on his phone. He stared at it for a moment, then quietly set his phone on the table, staring down at the image of a picturesque azure lake. Lush greenery surrounded the water, a pair of swans swimming along the calm surface. An enormous, snowcapped mountain was in the background, overlooking the peaceful scene. He placed his elbow on the table, head resting against the palm of his hand. His eyes were fixed on the wall, his vision far away.

Was his strange behavior related to the picture?

There are plenty of images like this online. It’s not that unique.

But Pinky’s cheer had ceased, a more serious and contemplative frown replacing his smile. Why did his smile always have to disappear so swiftly now?

“Is something wrong, Marco? Poit,” Pinky asked, giving voice to what Brain had been curious about but wouldn’t say out loud. “You look upset.”

Always following Pinky’s lead, Chip’s cheerfulness vanished too. “Hey, this place looks pretty. Was this part of your hiking trip too?”

Marco nodded. "We always followed the trail to the lake," he said. "Pictures don't really do it justice. You'd have to go there yourself to see just how beautiful the lake really is."

"Wow…" Chip murmured, completely enamored by the brilliant blue water. "It's so blue!"

"Narrrf," Pinky said, his eyes sparkling with wonder for the first time in days.

I've seen bluer.

But Brain kept that thought to himself. Nobody needed to know that.

"It's an alpine lake," he explained. "The minerals and sediments in the water give it that brilliant hue."

Pinky and Chip hung onto his every word, and Brain raised his head with pride at their flattery.

"I'm glad I got a picture of it while I still could. I might not get a chance to ever go there again. Who knows if it’ll even be there next summer?" Marco said quietly.

Will there be a next summer?

It wasn't a question that had an answer founded on scientific principles, and that made Brain uneasy.

"You can still go there, right?" Chip asked. "It's too pretty to miss out on!"

“If it makes you happy, you should go!” Pinky insisted.

But Marco only shook his head, placing his phone face-down to hide the image.

Both of you are entirely too invested in this.

“The planet is broken,” Brain reminded them. “The local ecosystem is likely impacted by the massive tectonic shifts that have taken place. And recreational activity isn’t going to be a priority for anyone at the moment.”

Pinky pouted, crossing his arms with a huff. “Those poor animals! Climate change ruins everything.”

“It can’t just be…gone,” Chip said despondently.

Realizing that he would have to boost morale somehow, Brain quickly tried to come up with something to say, even if he didn’t completely believe his own words.

“The lake will recover in time,” he assured them, though a voice in his mind told him that there wasn’t enough time for the lake to recover. “And once the professor comes back, we’ll find our next destination and continue our quest in restoring the world.”

Though Chip calmed down considerably at this, Pinky wasn’t so easily mollified. His arms were still crossed, his body language tense as he looked down at his feet. But his tail was tucked closed to his body, his shoulders and ears slumping.

“...do you know where we’re going, Brain?” he finally asked.

Was he thinking about the events that transpired in the Earth Temple?

The journey would only become more dangerous from this point forward. And Pinky was inexperienced with his nighttime form’s unusual powers.

The thought of Pinky losing control permanently scared Brain more than Dark Gaia ever could.

The doorknob turned, and everyone glanced at the entrance just in time to see Professor Pickle walk in. For an elderly man, there was quite the spring in his step.

He must've found something exciting.

The Earth Gem and mysterious box were teetering precariously atop a messy stack of papers he carried.

"I believe we're about to find out," Brain said.

Professor Pickle dropped the stack of papers on the desk, the Earth Gem rolling off and nearly falling to the floor if Marco hadn't dove off his chair and caught it in the palm of his hand.

"Professor, can you please be more careful with the items that could potentially save the world?" Marco groaned as Chip carefully plucked the Earth Gem from his hand. He looked like he was in too much pain to stand up.

Like always, Professor Pickle didn’t seem to hear a word Marco said. “I’ve been consulting with the geology and anthropology departments all morning! I assure you, they’re equally excited as me for this amazing discovery! The Earth Gem alone could revolutionize our understanding of the geological processes of our planet and our knowledge of how people lived in ancient Rome!”

Brain was resigned to the likelihood that he was never going to be credited for bringing the Earth Gem out of the sealed temple.

“Why, I practically had to pry the gem out of the geology professor’s hand!” Pickle continued as he spread his papers all over the desk. “She wanted to keep it for further study, and when I told her that the gem needs to be in the possession of somebody who can save the world from the brink of destruction, she called me a lunatic! Honestly, how that woman ever earned her PHD is beyond me. I once saw her-oh my, are those cucumber sandwiches?”

He opened a sandwich and peered inside, a delighted noise escaping him as he saw the sliced cucumbers inside, all grievances with his coworker forgotten. He took an experimental bite, then the sandwich disappeared in a matter of seconds.

“Delicious!” he proclaimed. “Much better than that pitiful slop I was given during my kidnapping.”

The geology professor’s PHD wasn’t the only one that should be called into question.

Since the professor was preoccupied with trivial things, Brain scanned the diagrams of the Gaia Manuscripts himself. Despite their foray into the Temple, the documents were still indecipherable to him.

The only thing he knew for certain was that they now had one of the mythical gemstones that could potentially save the world.

Pinky paled, his horrified gaze on the illustration of Dark Gaia destroying an entire civilization. Brain quickly dragged another piece of paper over it, covering the abomination from view.

Chip hovered over Brain’s shoulder, reading over the incomprehensible symbols. “Do you need me to-” Chip began, but Brain cut him off.

“Not right now, Chip,” he said. He didn’t want to reveal Chip’s ability to read the ancient language at the moment.

The office wasn’t a secure location. One of Snowball’s Microbots could be spying on them. If Professor Pickle and Marco knew about Chip’s ability, they could inadvertently leak that information to Snowball.

Especially Professor Pickle.

That man was the epitome of the absentminded professor stereotype.

“Professor, are you going to gorge yourself on sandwiches or actually tell them what you’ve discovered?” Marco grumbled, equally irritated by Pickle’s lack of priorities. He stood up and crossed his arms, shooting an unimpressed look at Pickle.

“Hmm? What’s that, Milo?” Pickle asked as he reached for another sandwich, but Marco grabbed the platter and held it out of reach, placing it on a high shelf. He’d be able to reach it easily, though it would be significantly harder for Pickle to retrieve his beloved cucumber sandwiches. Pickle folded his arms in disappointment. “You’re committing a war crime by denying my right to healthy, nutritious food, Mercurio.”

Marco shrugged. “Don’t care. Explanation first. Sandwich after.”

“Oh, alright,” Pickle sighed. He cleaned his hands with a handkerchief before opening the box with the strange world map. “I discovered a new function for this artifact earlier. Chip, if you would place the gem into the first slot within the box.”

“Um…okay?” Chip said, carefully slotting the gem into place. “What exactly will this-”

Then the Earth Gem began to shine brightly. On the world map, an orange sheen leaked into the colorless Europe, spreading until the entire continent was filled in. Then a line extended downwards into the Mediterranean, crossing into Africa, until it finally reached the carved circle in the center of the continent.

“It seems the heart of Africa will be your next destination,” Pickle said.

Brain traced the glowing line from start to end. The circles where it began and ended weren’t just random placements. The one in Europe was located roughly where Rome would be geographically, while the one in Africa…

“...the next Gaia Temple’s in the Congo,” Brain realized.

A heavily forested, isolated region. Brain hadn’t forgotten their last venture into such an environment. He’d become helpless and dependent on Pinky’s mysterious acquired survival knowledge, and while he’d been able to integrate every skill Pinky had taught him during his battle with Snowball, he still preferred technological advancement to the natural world.

And Dark Gaia’s presence further complicated matters.

There would be no streetlamps or lights from human settlements to ward off the forces of Dark Gaia.

And that didn’t factor in the possibility of running into Snowball. Or the natural hazards of Mother Nature.

They’d have to make a trip or two into the city and gather enough supplies for several days. But even if they had time to pack, there were so many factors that could go wrong.

“Professor?” Pinky said. “Are you and Marco coming along for the trip?”

Pinky’s tail was curled between his legs, his ears drooping. His body language was fearful, and Brain realized that Pinky’s lack of confidence could prove detrimental to their mission. What if Pinky was too compromised to guide them through unknown territory?

Then there was Chip, who would have to come along for his strange ability to open Gaia Temples. Yet he barely knew how to operate a microwave, let alone survive in a jungle for more than half an hour.

He might try to eat strange plants without knowing if they’re poisonous, or some predator could view him as an easy meal.

“I’m sorry, Pinky, but we can’t leave the university,” Professor Pickle said. “Even if enrollment is low with the current crisis, there are still students who’ve paid for quality education with my course.”

“He’ll also need help with the powerpoint presentations and grading assignments,” Marco added. “And the computer when it acts up.”

“Oh,” Chip said in disappointment. “I wouldn’t mind you guys coming along.”

I would. Keeping track of you and Pinky is hard enough, Brain thought, though he kept it private. But the professor does have his uses.

“Before we depart for the Congo, we should exchange contact information,” Brain declared. “We will update you on the situation as we collect the gems, and in return, you will share your research that pertains to the Gaia Manuscripts…in addition to providing funds for our expedition.”

“What?” Marco shouted. “You can’t just demand money like that!”

Brain folded his arms and met Marco’s indignant reaction with logic. “Planes require money to maintain. Two mice and a flying chihuahua require supplies, and one of those mice requires greater energy consumption than usual.”

Professor Pickle rested a hand on Marco’s shoulder as he nodded sagely. “It’s not an unreasonable demand,” he admitted. “Fighting Dark Gaia’s influence isn’t an easy task. Since they've conquered the Earth Temple and successfully restored Europe, they've proven themselves worthy of additional support. Sponsoring their journey will relieve them of the financial stress and allow them to focus on the challenges ahead."

Though Marco opened his mouth to argue, he thought better of it and nodded slowly, accepting his superior's decision.

If only I could overcome the monetary burden of world domination this way.

He wondered if the professor would be open to funding his world domination plans after everything went back to normal. Then he didn't have to expend time and resources on fundraising.

"Take the box, Earth Gem, and a copy of the Gaia Manuscripts with you," Pickle added. "Perhaps you'll discover something that I haven't."

Pinky tilted his head. "Like how socks always get lost in the dryer?" he asked.

Brain had never been more relieved to hear such a stupid, irrelevant question.

Chip laughed weakly, even though it was clear he had no idea what Pinky was talking about.

Pickle chuckled. "Ah, now I'm afraid that's one mystery that will never be solved within my lifetime."

Marco quickly stuffed all the necessary items into a backpack, only stopping briefly to give the professor his long-awaited sandwiches.

"We only have a limited amount of time before sunset," Marco said as he slung the backpack over his shoulder. "We'd better get started on buying all the supplies you need before Dark Gaia comes out to play."

Chip came to rest on Marco's head, kicking his legs excitedly at the prospect of seeing more of the city.

"Can we stop by Mario's gelato stand if we see him?" he asked eagerly. "I wanna let him know we're leaving town. And get another Chocolate Chip Sundae Supreme before we leave for who knows how long! But when I come back, and I definitely will, I'll be sure to have all sorts of-"

He was still chatting Marco's ear off as they exited the office. Pickle grabbed another cucumber sandwich for the road before following them, and Brain questioned just how many sandwiches that man could fit into his stomach.

That just left Brain alone with Pinky, who was avoiding eye contact with him.

It was a problem that would have to wait for later. Gathering supplies was the priority now.

But first, they had to get down from the desk. Scanning the area for a safe point to get down to the floor, Brain noticed that the office chair was cushioned and positioned within jumping reach.

"Come, Pinky," Brain said, extending his hand to Pinky as he mentally calculated their trajectory. "We'll aim for the chair, and then you'll jump down to the floor first, then catch me when I-"

But Pinky was already sliding down the desk leg, his bottom thumping onto the floor. Despite the seemingly painful landing that would leave most tailbones groaning, Pinky stood up without a fuss.

"-jump," Brain finished, his palm cold when it should've had a warm hand within its grasp.

Brain couldn't descend the same way as Pinky. His limbs weren't long enough to wrap around the desk leg.

He would have to stick to his original plan.

Counting to three, he took a running leap and aimed for the cushioned chair. He was midair when he realized that he'd failed to take into account that he should've subtracted Pinky's weight from his trajectory calculations.

He was nowhere close to the chair.

Brain braced himself for impact, hoping that his luck would take pity on him for once and only give him a nasty bruise with this fall.

But the impact never came.

Instead, he sank into something soft and fuzzy. It squished beneath his paws, and a strange sense of euphoria flooded over him, overriding his rational mind.

Pinky came to his senses after all!

And for a peaceful few seconds, he believed it was true. Then his hand hit something cold. Annoyed, Brain tried to shove Pinky's nose out of the way.

But the offending obstacle was hard plastic, not soft flesh.

The fantasy shattered.

He never landed in Pinky's arms. He was only on a fuzzy tan cushion. His hand was touching a button sewn into the material.

He could've landed worse. But the cushion paled in comparison to Pinky's arms, where he'd landed safely so many times before.

"...you okay, Brain?" Pinky asked.

He was standing next to the cushion, which he somehow found in case Brain didn't stick the landing on the chair. He stepped back as Brain carefully slid off the fabric.

You didn't catch me. I wanted you to catch me…to minimize my risk of injury of course.

"I'm fine, Pinky," Brain said, letting no trace of his disappointment show. "Let's catch up with the others."

After all, one more lie couldn't hurt anybody.

End AN: Alright, next stop will be the Congo Rainforest! The journey is just beginning! And boy do I have plans for the next arc!

Pinky is still feeling pretty down. Well, that can’t cause problems later down the line.

Also I became fond of Marco during this chapter. He's based on Pickle's assistant who does appear in-game, but he's unnamed and is mostly an exposition character. In this fic, he’s really just a normal dude who does not get paid enough to deal with apocalypses and eccentric professors.

Poor Brain doesn't know what to do now that Pinky won't touch him.

#pinky and the brain #pinky unleashed

8 notes · View notes

pirateborn-a · 2 years

Note

❛ I wish you were here. ❜ { for Ghoger (ghost Roger) from Buggy ;u; -indomiitas }

ANGST SENTENCES — @indomiitas

✧. He froze at Buggy’s words from where he leaned against a blank wall, shock on his face first and then hope—

Before agony flashed across, quickly replaced with a strained smile; willing his fists to unclench with a silent sigh. Whether Buggy could see or hear him or not, or if the boy had merely sensed or hoped for him, Roger couldn’t tell. But he would beg himself to remain calm, regardless. Reluctant even in death to let his control slip when alone with one of his boys.

“ I know, my boy, ” he muttered, grief slipping into his words before he could catch it, quick to lighten his tone, “ I know. ”

But by the seas, it was difficult to keep calm. Rage storming inside him still, threatening to break free from his clumsily crafted restraints; begging to consume him whole. How dare they, it hissed, how dare they land a hand on his crew ? ( because even if they hadn’t been crew in so long, Roger loved them still ). If he could, if his flesh and bone were not cursed, he would’ve killed each and every last one of those bastards who dare harm his boy. Oh — expression carefully blank as he relished in the fantasy — he could simply use haki; cut off the air from their brains, crushed it underneath his steel gaze and watched with vindication as they writhed and frothed. But no. No, no, no. That wouldn’t be enough. He would’ve broken every bone in their body, one by one, and neatly severed each one of their limbs with their own damn blades because how dare they—

Roger forced out a rattling breath, careless of how he no longer required it, and let the thoughts slip over him like waves, accepting them but refusing to drown in it all. He couldn’t let himself linger on what-if’s, least he drove himself mad. The crystal clarity he’d lived his living life was all that kept him together now, and he couldn’t afford to loose sight of what was important just yet.

Gaze returning to Buggy, the tension he felt softening its hold. For all the injuries his boy held, he still breathed; and that would have to be enough.

“ I wish I were still here too, ” grin holding melancholy in its edges, though no less true. Laughter rumbling from his chest, “ Wahaha, I do not regret the life I lived, nor how I died. But I do regret not being able to be there for you, I never wanted you to be alone, Buggy. ”

And why was Buggy alone ? What had occurred during the time Roger had disbanded the crew, been executed, and the present ? He’d always thought Buggy would at least have Shanks by his side, the two of them against the world, as they’d always been. He didn’t know, couldn’t fathom why. One day he would ask, but... not then, not there.

“ Stay strong, my boy, ” he did his best to make his voice soothing, hands twitching where they rested on his knees; wishing they could embrace the young man, “ You have to stay strong, ” conviction entering his tone, determined to say his piece on the off-chance Buggy could hear him. And he knew what he was asking, but he continued onwards relentless, “ I know you can do it, Buggy. For all that you doubt yourself, you’ve always held strength within you. ”

He could only pray that Buggy would remember that without him or the rest of their crew to guide the boy. And it pained him, because Buggy was still so young, too young to become a man. But the world had already proven itself far too cruel for any other option.

“ Keep sailing forward, you must keep sailing forward. No matter how long it might take, cast wayside your insecurities and embrace all that makes you yourself, Buggy. For when your time to shine arrives, how marvelous it will be. ”

#[ v. ghost ] ✧〖 our memories remain 〗#[ ic. ] ✧〖 eternally challenging the sea 〗#long post.#[ /Ghoger/....#[ thinks ab your post ab buggy after rogers execution.... as a treat.....#[ and thinks ab stories/folklore of ghosts becoming corrupted through rage and regret #[ and Roger fighting to keep himself Himself because he doesnt want those who can see him- as brief as it might be- to see him #[ as nothing but a vessel of rage #[ trying so hard for his boy...#indomiitas

5 notes · View notes

nataliesnews · 1 year

Text

Mainly fascists 21.11.2022

The third PDF is what I think will happen…maybe Netanyahu should let his fascists go full stream…..let the world see what Israel is becoming

Here is a photo….Ben Gvir’s wife and her fellow settler women and ……..birds of a feather

You don’t believe soldiers lie …or disremember …what actually happened. Read four hours of disaster above.

Added to the pdf …from the Rabbis for Human Rights. It was not just a handful …..there were hundreds. At least this time the news reports even though muted accuse the so-called religious of starting the fight though they hasten to say that the Palestinians also threw stones. They are not Christians so do not believe in turning the other cheek. And they were those who were pushed back and threatened by the soldiers. Very little is said of the damage that the fascists did. Nor is any Palestinian who was hurt give a voice. But much is made of the woman soldier who was attacked. But of course in this case the attacker has not been arrested. Had he been a Palestinian he would have been dead on the spot. No Palestinian

The sights of horror from the city of Hebron yesterday, during the Shabbat of Sarah's life, do not give rest. Dozens of Jewish rioters loot a lot of property belonging to the Palestinian residents of the city, smash shop windows and throw stones. What we know well from the villages in the West Bank where we concluded last month together with the Palestinian farmers, received a double and multiplied expression in the city of Hebron, in a pogrom of rioters who have no God.

***

In a Torah talk that she wrote a lot to Anna Zilbman-Solovey, coordinator of rabbinical and community relations at the "Rabbin's Voice for Human Rights" in preparation for Shabbat Hai Sara, she says: "About two weeks ago, we toured this part of Hebron with a group of rabbis and rabbis. We learned that at any given moment, we are in Between 650 and 800 soldiers, whose main purpose is to protect the Jewish residents of the city. The Jewish neighborhoods were established close to the Cave of the Patriarchs, but they adjoin the Palestinian neighborhoods. During the tour, we walked through empty streets, which until recently were bustling and full of people, in the historic center of Hebron. The Shuhada, the Kasbah of Hebron. Due to the orders of the military regime which prohibited the merchants from opening their shops following the events of the second intifada in the early 2000s, many Palestinian residents left the city, of course without any financial compensation. We were horrified to learn of "sterile" areas where entry to Palestinians is prohibited. In the modern, democratic and Western state of Israel, there is a place where people are not allowed to walk the streets of the city where they live.

"History, archeology, biblical evidence, the city of the fathers and mothers, the Cave of the Patriarchs - all of these are very important. But what about the value of human life and its sanctity? Are graves of dead people more important than people living among them?

"This coming Shabbat, thousands of Jews will flock to the city of Hebron and the Cave of the Patriarchs, in order to sanctify the dead. They will do so in the name of all of Judaism. I believe that Judaism has many faces. In Judaism, life is of utmost importance, and the values of freedom, justice, human rights, And eternal remembrance that all sons and daughters of man were created in Tselem, both Abraham and Sarah and their many descendants as well as the Palestinian residents whose home is in Hebron. I pray for the memory of Sarah our mother and ask that we remember Sarah's pain at the time of the binding. Let us not oppress other people, who live among us. We are all sons and daughters of Abraham and Sarah."

***

Condemnations and words from the mouth to the outside will not help. Jewish terrorism - yes, there is no other way to call it other than that - must be uprooted. Dismantle the hillbilly organizations that group teenagers and young people from the social fringes, offer them a shaky social framework and a hateful ideology and excite them with superior feelings. We need severe punishment and enforcement against the rioters and we need to ensure the safety of the residents of Hebron, as well as the safety of the farmers in the West Bank, that no harm will befall them as long as there are those in the name of God sinning and doing evil.

Mainly fascists 21.11.2022 preferable

0 notes

ayazure · 2 years

Text

Losing

– "I don't want to hurt you anymore.. my words as a menace may not look too promising, but I swear"

This is part 2 of menacing, please read part one here :)

Genre : angst, Scaramouche x you

Warnings : abandonment issues, moving on, heartbreak, petnames, gn!reader

Scaramouche is in the midst of living in guilt. It's been one and a half year and things were changing in his perspective. Still, he can't get you back at this point. For the mistakes he made caused greater damage, especially to you.

"Sweetheart?" ever since you closed the door on him, he never heard a single utter of word from you. He was going to lose you and it's all his fault. Yet his heart resorted to his menacing habits just to get you back.

Those sobs weren't fake, those were his despair and guilt that served as tears and sounds. Anger got the best of him really, resulting in attempts to kill you (as a threat, we could say). These can never dispose of the fact that he made a lot of complications, tearing the one mutual love you two had.

His fatui underlings helped him open the door and as expected, you were gone.. from his sight and his life. He lived in despair after that, guilt and urges eating him up.

Scaramouche would always have the recollection of him laying by your side after a busy day at work. You'd already be sleeping by then. Seeing your peaceful resting face–it always eased his stress, his worries.

Ever since he strived to search for his vessel and heart, he went sort of mad. Meeting you, he'd say he already found his heart and it's you. You who eased his every pain even if you were just beside him. The y/n he would give kisses to when you fall asleep. The one he can't stop staring at and always mutter words of affection.

'Why can't he do the same when you're awake?'

Truth be told, he was actually embarassed. He's the kind of person who is only willing to show emotions in private. That was a mistake on his part since it ended up with him neglecting you.

He thought about it and he would declare that he was to be held accountable. Nothing was your fault, his heart says so. Every night, he would be so eager to go to the bedroom only to be greeted with reality telling him that you were not there anymore.

Tears would fall of course, missing your whole entirety in his arms. The way you would try to make him smile. And how he regrets treating you that way. He knows you'll never forgive him but he doesn't want to trek this path anymore.

Thus, he quit his position; proceeded to stay in the surburbs of inazuma as nothing but a lowly citizen. Not that lowly, he had enough money to get by. When his bloodthirst comes, he thinks of you, taming down his urges until he got used to it. He kept living because of you and you didn't have to do the same.

For you were happy now. Your import and trading business skyrocketed. You were rich, maybe even richer than your ex lover. Ah, your ex lover, you'd think about him several times. And thought about how he was painstaking memory now..

Not until,

As you were walking down the tranquil streets of the city, you were grabbed to the side, steering you towards a back alley. "I swear if you lay a finger on me-" you threatened.

"Y/n it's me, please put the dagger down" you do recognize that voice. However, confused as it sounds calmer than its usual demeanor. The person lets you go and you did a pivot to face him. "Scaramouche?!" You exclaimed, feeling the fear and shock at the same time.

The moment you faced him, he kneeled down, weeping. You were too stunned to dare utter anything. "I'm not here to hurt you in anyway, I want to.. let out these stupid feelings. To apologize to you, I.. I've been such a psycho to you"

He looked up to your dazed face, with eyes glistening in tears. "Nor am I here to beg to you, to plead for your forgiveness because.. you don't have to. I feel so sorry, I was in the wrong this whole time and that I made you feel fear and disappointment"

You were guilty for still thinking that he's ever so suspicious. Him kneeling infront of you feels way too surreal already. His hands were bare, scarred, still holding onto both of yours. You noticed how his outfit wasn't the fatui uniform anymore. It was a normal yukata, worn by any other inazuman citizen.

With this, he was more than sincere.

"Scaramouche.. stand up" you ordered him to do so. He follows obediently, though his head is bent down, facing the dusty ground.

"Look at me" he doesn't, he was still ashamed. You had to caress his face, tilting his to meet your eyes. "I don't know what you've been up to lately, my mind tends to reminds me of you at times. I was wondering if you were still a menace. With you here right now, I can say that you aren't. Though, if you attempt another monstrosity, I won't hesitate to use my dagger." You say in all seriousness.

His face was bit more relaxed knowing you trusted him even just a bit. He had no ill intents and he just wants a proper closure. But, his heart was still grasping for that little hope of second chance.

"I did my best to change this time and I want you to know that you were my inspiration. I quit the organization" he then says, softly.

You never thought that he would do such a thing since he was a man with clear intact goals. He dedicated himself to the fatui and yet..

"Scara.."

"Y/n I also want you to know that I still love you, even though.. even though you won't forgive me. I will accept anything you say and I won't mind"

You could still see the hope in his eyes, but with a bit of a restraint since he did say that he's fine with whatever answer you throw him.

Your heart shatters repeatedly, you can feel the bitterness in your mouth.

"I loved you.." you start off, caressing his face. His expression was even more heartbreaking but he was trying to smile, shrugging off the pain.

"I can't give you a second chance since .. I'm engaged now"

The guy infront of you bit his lip as if he was trying to hold back any falling tears. Some broke off and you wiped them gently.

"I want you to have a good life Scara, I want you to continue living, for the better this time. Seeing that you've started to change, I became really proud of you" your hand left his cheek.

You faced the city road where the sun shines, contrasting to the dark alley. Your body facing the path you once took before you were steered. But you look back at him.

The momentary silence between you both, it was interrupted by a faint call. A man with platinum hair, accompanied by a red streak, wearing a maple samurai outfit was walking around. He was yelling your name seeming to be looking for you.

"Y/N, love ? Where did you go?"

Scaramouche hears and it hit him. He had no choice but to accept this fate, this consequence meant for him.

You gave him a slight but genuine smile, assuring him that things would go well later on. "I have to go but.. I wish you all the best. I'm sorry and goodbye"

And thus, you left, attending to your fiance.

As for Scaramouche, he tried, smiling at the both of you with an aching chest. His gaze then focuses on the man beside you. "Take care of Y/n for me, give them all the love and time that I wasn't able to give"

Who's cutting the onions ?! Me.. Also, as much as I'd like to put 'too stunned to speak' in that one line–I had to improvise because I wanted it to be serious rather than letting you be reminded of a meme and now you would chuckle 😭

☆Taglist (as per request) : @scarasbestcvmdumpster @sumayoshi

P.s : I might make an alternate part 2, a bit more violent this time. So... Stay tuned for that !

#genshin impact #gn reader #gender neutral reader #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #scaramouche x you #scaramouche #scaramouche angst #kaedehara kazuha #scaramouche as your ex lover and kazuha as your fiancé #genshin fanfic #pain #part 2 #hurt #heartbreak #scaramouche x gender neutral reader

153 notes · View notes

haruchyio · 3 years

Text

GUNS MINUS THE ROSES.

— haruchiyo sanzu x reader

— themes. romance (?)

— tw. toxic relationship, guns, blood, kinda gore idk, murder

three shots fired, it's echoes piercing your eardrums but it was like a lullaby to your ears.

blowing the smoke from the other end of your gun, you hear sanzu approaching you from behind. he lets out a low whistle, eyes forming crescent moons as a large grin stretches from one ear to another. he glanced once at the half-dead body right beneath your feet, snorting in amusement as the female victim choked on her own blood, eyes pleading for mercy that neither of you possessed.

her slim and pretty fingers that previously played with his hair boldy infront of you during the party bends painfully in all the wrong angles, no doubt caused by you. three holes on her champagne red dress, soaking her blood and made it darker than its original shade. amusing, he thought. if not for you being in the room to balance the ugly sight, he would have burned this warehouse to ashes without a second thought.

pity—truthfully, a peculiar emotion swirls in his guts when he caught sight of the pathetic girl, pitifully hanging on to dear life. he couldn't help but think you're too cruel; how could you break her hands when you could have chopped them all off instead? but he stayed quiet and didn't complain the whole hour when he watched you do so because he wanted to savour the moment and burn the image of you in his mind. beautiful, he thinks, even with your clothes decorated with splatters of blood that weren't yours.

"damn, that's hot."

a sliver of pink swipes inbetween his lips, his blue eyes racking up your body up and down as if he's checking you out but you know he's just thinking about how he's going to approach you when you're holding a gun tightly within your palm, and if he makes one wrong move, he might be the one on the receiving end of your wrath.

"maybe i should make you jealous more often." he hums thoughtfully, a dangerous glint flashes behind the curtains of his eyelids, "if it means i get to see this side of you everyday."

"i'll bury a bullet on your head as a parting gift," you responded in a dead tone as you hopped off of the person's body. she cries out in pain, clutching her blood-stained stomach but stays painfully still soon after. you both ignored her muffled pleas, instead, you found importance on the unsightly stains on your clothes that weren't the blood you own (sanzu just pretends she's not there at this point. as he approached you, you're the only one he can see, like you're the only person in this dimly lit room). you dusted off the imaginary dirt on your shoes, scrunching your nose in disgust when you see a drop of her blood staining your expensive branded shoes and silently hoped you have enough money to buy five more pairs of the exact model later on.

"i'd thank you," he chuckles lowly as he stops right infront of you with only a centimeter of space left before your nose touches his. you could feel his warm breath fanning your cheeks, his ocean blues glowering, shining, electricying the depths of your soul, and you couldn't help the shiver of delight that travels down your spine. "but i doubt you can really shoot me, love."

sanzu hums when he could feel a cool metal meets his temple, his excited grin never faltering as if his life wasn't being threatened at this very moment. you clicked your tongue, your eyes meeting his who only stared at you with adoration. "what if i can?" you asked, fingers itching to pull the trigger.

sanzu leans towards the direction of the gun as if he's urging you to do so. his grin turning smug as each seconds pass and you still haven't done anything but emptily promise to take his life. "you love me too much to do that, don't you?"

what he said was no lie, and you couldn't find the energy nor the words to refute his claim because you know he'll see right through you the same way he's transparent in your eyes. and so, you chuckled, the grip on your weapon softening in resignation. you could feel his hand snaking up to snatch the weapon from you gently. "didn't know you're that suicidal, haru. what if i actually pulled the trigger on you?" you let him wrap his arms around your figure, his nose burying itself on the scent of your hair. you could hear the calm beats of his heart and it made you question if he really did believed you loved him enough to not shoot a hole through his thick skull.

"how did the old saying go? only on death's door do we part?" he whispers in your ear. you could feel him shift his arm, but the rest of his body stays still as he embraced you. "yeah, something like that."

a single gunshot rings, and the cries of the woman stopped, filling the air around you with silence. "we aren't married yet though."

"the little details don't matter."

296 notes · View notes

dienamights · 3 years

Text

Road Mishap | K.Bakugou | Drabble

Where Dynamight pays you a little visit when someone is being a little too friendly on the road.

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 1.1K

» Genre: Crack, Prohero!au, fluff if you squint real hard but basically reader being a simp.

» Warning(s): Swearing, guys being assholes, suggestive themes(?), basically Kacchan flexing that he’s getting some ass. Characters are aged up.

» Author’s notes: ahahaha, what are you talking about, this isn't self-indulgent, no I didn't cry for hours after it happened to me today. @tteokdoroki iloveyou come laugh at my pain

I know its too long for a drabble but I HAD FUN WITH IT AND I ALREADY MADE THE BANNER AS A DRABBLE SO SUE ME)

» Masterlist | Requests

“Hah? The fuck you mean you’re being tailgated?” you heard the hoarse voice of your boyfriend through the speakers of your car as you looked through your rearview mirror, the fucking shit-piece of car swerving left and right to irritate you, the heads of five guys swaying with the car and grinning evilly.

“I mean I’m being tailgated Katsu, the fuck else would I mean?” you sneered, sending a glare to the center console of your car, hoping it would reach your dumbass of a hero boyfriend. You honestly didn’t know why you were calling him, Katsuki was busy being on the top 10 ranked heroes and you didn’t expect him to drop everything and run to save your quirkless damsel in distress ass.

But the car behind you sped up, the front bumper of their car kissed the rear bumper of yours, making you screech, a sob escaping your throat when your car jerked forward, hearing the maniac laughter of the douchebags despite your closed windows. You wished you didn’t leave the comfort of your home, knowing that no one in their right mind would even come close to harming the home of Dynamight, unless they wanted their asses blown off.

Katsuki was silent for a few seconds, before you heard frantic shuffling on the other end of the phone as you slowed down at a red light, the car behind you jolting left and right as the boys danced at their loud shit music. Yet, your ears couldn’t miss the deep growl in his voice.

“Send me your live location.” It wasn’t a question, nor a request, it was a demand. And even then, you were pretty hesitant to do as he told. You took a few deep breaths, wiping the few tears that managed to escape during your panic and tried to sound as convincing as possible.

“N-no its alright Suki, I’m almost home a-and besides you’ve got more important things to-”

“Y/N.” You gulped, not used to him directing that threatening voice at you, “I’m not asking you; I’m telling you to send it to me. Now.” No ifs ands or buts, so with a shaking grip, you did as you were told, right as the light turned green, the honks and tires screeching making you whimper as you pressed on the gas pedal to keep driving back home, only then realizing the fact that your boyfriend hung up on you.

“Great. Shouldn’t have called in the first place, real useless of you to call him knowing he’s got more serious things to take care of, people to save! Not just-” your self-scolding was cut short when you heard it, that loud, deafening, awful sound that always made your ears ring for hours on end. The earsplitting sound of your boyfriend, your hero. His explosions blaring and shaking your windshield as he all but flew to you, propelling himself and dropping down on the road between your car and the assholes behind you.

You slowed down and looked back at him through your mirror, watching as he brought both hands in front of him, palms lighting up in that scorching color that reminded you of fires that should never be put out, because they were so damned beautiful, the mesmerizing color of burning sunsets, the entrancing color of those crimson eyes that light up a smidgen, a speck – too quick you almost always miss it – at the sight of your smile.

The car behind you swerved to the left, – whether because of the man popping out of nowhere and standing in front of them or because his hands are about to blow a hole in them, you weren’t sure – crashing into the railing and activating the airbags of the car while stopping all together.

You turned on your hazard warning lights and slowed down to a stop at the side of the road by the sidewalk, getting out to check on your boyfriend – lowkey wanting to see him kick some ass.

You tried your best to hide your laughter as you saw him dropping his gauntlets, biting off his gloves while stomping his way to them and grumbling about ‘tearing their asses up to pieces for coming for his princess’, the – very oblivious – boys’ eyes lit up at the sight of the number 6 hero, cheering at him for being so quick to come rescue them.

Oh, you poor pricks.

Neither you nor the men expected what happened next, as Katsuki blew the door of the driver’s seat up, hauling the guy out of the car and holding him up by the shirt, yelling and swearing profusely at the cowering figure, while his friends hesitantly tried to free him from the hero’s grip. Only to be growled at and promised their turn in being murdered with no hesitation.

“You mean to tell me, that it took Red Riot, Chargebolt and Cellophane to get your punk ass off of these civilians?” The manager huffed, eyes glaring at the scuffed hero in front of him, falling onto the tv playing the news, the header “Hero Dynamight assaults innocent civilians” rolling at the bottom of the screen before looking back at the hero standing in front of him, who wore a scowl and simply rolled his eyes back at him, not caring about the reporter spitting rumors and accusations that were obviously told by the assholes standing behind her.

“Are we done here?” Dynamight huffed back, the shuffling feet of his comrades behind him irritating him because one, they dragged him away from those bastards before finishing beating them up and two, he wasn’t done kicking the motherfuckers’ asses. Yes, they were the same reason and no, he doesn’t give a fuck.

“You’re off of duty for the week, think about what you did and how you could improve as a hero while not harming the innocent.” The man at the desk declared, dropping his glasses on the surface and pinching the area between his eyes and preparing himself for the chaos Dynamight was about to make for being put off duty.

To his – and the other heroes’ surprise – all Bakugou did was scoff, mumbling a fine and asking if there was anything the manager wanted before he went home.

“W-wait a minute.” The man stuttered, “you know that means you’re only to come by next Monday, right?” an affirmative hum met his question and the man could only inquire for the reason behind the absence of the tantrum the hero always threw when it comes to him not working.

“Oh, its just Y/N is waiting for me at home to rail her for saving her life, and honestly I’d rather do that than hang around with you fuckers, later bitches” and then he just… left.

its 3:35 am rn and now i feel better about myself so i can go to sleep without crying, thank you for coming to my ted talk

575 notes · View notes

shadowsinger11 · 4 years

Text

You, The Stars And I

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k (oops)

Requested by @amira3113: Can I request a fic abt the reader seeing Fred and George comforting a kid after Umbridge punished him and the reader helps them and Fred thinks it's so cute what she is doing and she does the same and extra mega fluff, pls?🥺 you don't gotta do it if u don't want to btw.. so no pressure ;)

Warnings: A bit more angst than intended, Fred being a soft boi™️

A/N: I don't know how to feel, I just roasted myself hardcore with this and I'm feeling even more single. I'm sorry for not being able to use a 'keep reading' tab

Masterlist

The sun fell asleep behind the endless hills, enveloped by dense, opaque darkness. Its golden rays no longer shone through the wide windows of the castle and instead let shadows creep into the long, empty hallways, revealing the ugly truth about what the school had turned into over the past few months.

The naked walls stood tall, towering over you and inching closer with every step you took, and you hung your head low, aiming to block out the singular buzzing thought in your head.

Hogwarts was no longer home.

Your heart ached at the memory of hundreds of students chattering and laughing all day long, freely walking around the school grounds and simply being children. You so terribly missed being careless and having fun without the fear of potentially facing a life-threatening punishment.

But now there was no laughter, only your footsteps echoed in the hallway.

You were headed straight to your common room, determined to go to sleep early. The curfew and the dozens of new restrictions prevented you from meeting your friends, and you hoped that sleep would at least somehow distract you from your worries for a couple of hours.

The deafening silence nearly caused you to miss the muffled sobs and quiet whispering, coming from a turn not far away. It seemed as though there were more than one voice speaking, and your chest clenched with dread.

You hurried your pace until you reached the source of the noise, and peeked from behind the wall.

The sight most definitely surprised you, but the pain in your chest only sharpened.

There, on a bench, Fred and George were sitting, hunched over a small boy, probably no older than a second year. You could tell by his green robes which house he was in, but his red, tear-stained face was what alarmed you.

You immediately approached him and fell to your knees. George was on his left, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, while Fred was on the other side, holding his small hand in his, on the back of which a few words glistened with fresh crimson blood.

I must not ask questions.

You sent the twins a questioning look, but Fred dismissed it by shaking his head; clearly that was not the time for an explanation, nor was one necessary to begin with.

You placed a hand on the boy's knee to make your presence known.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

This only caused the child to sob harder and you internally cursed for having to go through this routine.

"It hurts…" he whimpered, "I thought Hogwarts was fun. I met friends last year and it was great. But now… Now I really want to go home."

Your jaw clenched and you swallowed hard, furious about seeing innocent children slowly losing faith and joy in life, turning into hollow shells of the amazing people they could have grown to become.

The horrifying experience would inevitably have a massive impact on them and unexplainable guilt twisted your stomach. And even though the long-term damage had already been done, you could at least take care of the temporary pain.

"It's not going to hurt for long, I promise," Fred whispered, tenderly playing with the boy's trembling fingers. "Ours are already fading."

"That's true, see?" George showed the back of his hand on which you could make out the faint, bloody words 'I must not cause trouble.', and you felt sick. "Soon you won't even remember it was there."

Tears stung in your eyes, but before you gave them a chance to fall, you turned to the redheads.

"I can heal the wound. Well, to an extent. If anything, I can lessen the pain," you began. "But I need to grab something from the Charms classroom."

Fred frowned, confused, "Wouldn't you need a potion for that? Why Charms?"

"Snape isn't the only one armored with potions for just in case things go wrong. And we can't risk going to the dungeons at this hour. It's not wise to tell Madam Pomfrey yet either."

The twins nodded. George said.

"It's not a good idea for all of us to go at once. I suggest one of us returns and covers the others up if necessary."

"I'll go with her," Fred stated without a second thought. "I can get them safely where they need to be, let her do her thing and bring them back."

Fred's eagerness to help filled you with warmth and for once that night you had the strength to smile, even for just a second.

"That sounds like plan then. But you should really take the map," George added, already pulling out the neatly folded Marauder's Map from his backpack. "Don't wanna risk getting caught by the ugly toad, you know."

"As if she'd be strolling down the hallways late at night. Doesn't she have hobbies?"

"Does hanging creepy pictures of cats on pink walls count as such?" you commented and the second year giggled, which made you feel slightly better as well.

Fred took the map from George and you grabbed the boy's hand.

"Good luck, guys. And, like, don't die."

"Woah, greatly encouraging, Georgie," you replied sarcastically, but appreciated it nonetheless. "You sure you'll be fine?"

"Absolutely. I got the route memorized like the back of my hand. I'll be careful."

And with that, George headed towards the Gryffindor Tower while you, Fred and the boy went in the opposite direction - the East Towers.

The night was eerily quiet, only the footsteps and shuddering breaths of the three of you keeping you sane. The soft light, gleaming at the tip of your wands, didn't do much to brighten the empty hallways which now seemed like endless voids of darkness.

Occasionally Fred would warn you about Filch's cat approaching, or Peeves causing trouble nearby, but fortunately, you reached the classroom sooner than expected.

"Alohomora," you whispered, but the door didn't bulge when you tried to open it.

Fred grinned, "Surely a Charms professor wouldn't let such a cliché unlock his own classroom."

"Shut up," you grumbled. "Aberto!"

The door opened. Fred's eyes widened in amusement and you flashed him a charming smile on your way in.

You placed the boy to sit on a desk as you and your friend rushed to look through drawers and chests for something useful. Most of them were full of basic items such as old books and quills, half-full jars of salamander blood, pearl dust and gillyweed, and after long fifteen minutes of not having found anything, you slid your back down against the wall, sighing in frustration.

Sleep-deprivation was kicking in, but your anxiety was getting stronger.

You needed to do something. Fast.

"What about this chest right here?" Fred asked from the other side of the classroom, pointing at something under Flitwick's desk.

You shook your head, "Doesn't open, already tried. Even if the cure is there, we can't get it."

"I take it your brilliant spells don't work anymore?" the redhead teased and you so badly wished to slap away the cocky smirk on his face. Or kiss it. There was something oddly attractive about the way he'd set your nerves on fire, and you hated yourself for enjoying it. Fred seemed to love it too.

"If you're only here to be annoying, just leave."

"I'm here to help too. I can multitask."

You nearly jumped from the ground to strangle him, and he clearly saw through your intentions because his toothy grin almost split his face in two. That bastard.

That super annoying, devilishly handsome bastard.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you coming? Not that I mind the attention," he shrugged.

You rose to your feet and made your way over to where he was standing, not granting him the pleasure of facing him, "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. Your stupidity is simply impossible to be unnoticed."

Fred laughed, "Oh, so I was annoying and now I'm stupid too? Make up your mind, woman."

You pulled out your wand and smirked at him over your shoulder.

"You said it yourself that you can multitask. Aberto!"

Nothing.

Fred squinted his eyes as he stared at the wooden chest. What spell could the professor have possibly used? Could you have even heard of it? The chances of ever finding the precious item were becoming grimmer with each passing second and the inevitable sense of dread had started to settle in.

After a minute Fred finally spoke.

"I think your problem is that you're using spells that only work on doors. You need a charm which unlocks containers."

"You might be right. What would that be then?" you enquired, glancing at the redhead. He took his own wand out of his robes.

"I know a spell that's come in handy before. Hopefully it will work now," he wettened his lips and said. "Cistem Aperio!"

Blinding light caused you to cover you eyes, and the chest opened with a loud thud which could have easily alerted the entire floor of your presence if it wasn't for the silencing charm you were lucky to have used when you first entered the classroom.

You finally dared to open your eyes and kneeled on the ground, carefully rummaging through fancy-looking boxes and vials sparking with liquids that seemed to be quite important.

"What are we looking for?" Fred asked as he crouched next to you.

"Wound-Cleaning Potion. Purple."

It was weird having Fred stand this close to you; sparks of electricity would pierce your heart every time his shoulder brushed against yours, or his fingers would accidentally graze yours. And when they did, they had you longing more and more for their touch, for their warmth.

But this warmth did not belong to you.

You swallowed down the disappointment and instead attempted to focus on the task at hand.

Just as you had expected, the precious crystal bottle was carefully wrapped in sparkling cloth and placed inside a box that was hidden deep in the corner of the chest. You breathed a sigh of relief and got on your feet, determined to stay away from Fred. For his sake and yours.

"Here it is," you smiled at the boy as you walked over to him. "Fred, can you get me some bandages from the drawer in the back?" you asked, pointing right behind him, and he did as he was told.

You took the hand of the young Slytherin and examined it closely - the wound was sure to leave a nasty scar, one that would never heal.

"Can you make it disappear?" he asked, fearfully.

Your heart dropped. But you replied with all the courage you could muster.

"I can try."

Fred was soon by your side and placed the medical items on the desk; a half-full packet of cotton, some bandages and a small box of bandaids. You muttered a 'thanks', not even looking at him, and opened the middle-sized bottle. It spread a characteristic smell of ashes, mint and lemon when you lifted it towards your nose - it was ready to use.

"So what now?" Fred asked.

Not granting him a reply, you simply took a small piece of the cotton and dipped the opening of the bottle into it, soaking it with a generous amount of the purple, dense liquid. The smell grew stronger.

Fred could only watch as you yet again gently grabbed the boy's hand and carefully dabbed the back of it; a thin steam of smoke soared from the contact of wet cotton and wounded flesh, purple mixing with red, and the kid hissed in pain. You worked attentively but quickly, with measured gestures and a straight face, and you missed the way Fred's eyes seemed to soften at the sight of you helping a small kid.

But one thing baffled him - why did you suddenly start acting so emotionless? Even towards the youngling who didn't know a thing. And though your expression seemed calm and collected, the Gryffindor noticed your tensed jaw.

What he wasn't aware of, however, was the racing speed of you heart, increasing each second. He wasn't aware of the short, shallow breaths you were taking because if you had allowed yourself to breathe freely, you'd certainly let out tears along with the deeps sighs.

Every move was calculated, every word and breath.

You pressed a fresh piece of cotton against the now cleaned wound and kept it there as you began to roll the bandage over it, securing it in place. When you were done, you placed a gentle, lingering kiss on the hand.

"There. It should do the trick."

The boy's face lit up and he hugged you, not giving you another choice but to wrap your arms around his small body. At least you had managed to bring him back some of the lost warmth.

"We should get him to his dorm," you told Fred and despite not facing him, he knew the words were directed towards him. That still didn't prevent the stinging pain in his chest from being so effortlessly avoided by you, and he frowned, bewildered by your unexpected coldness towards him.

Had he accidentally done anything to upset you? Were you mad at him? What for?

The boy jumped to his feet, visibly less burdened despite the present tear stains on his puffy cheeks. You hoped he'd be able to get some sleep that night regardless of the circumstances.

The three of you left the classroom as quietly as you had entered it and went in the direction of the dungeons. Fred, as usual, did his job at looking at the map and keeping track of the names, moving on the yellow-ish piece to old parchment.

Fortunately, you reached the Slytherin common room without any disturbances along the way, and the boy went inside, eager to crawl into bed and not think about the ugly lady who had punished him so unfairly just a few hours ago.

The door closed without a sound, leaving you and Fred on your own.

His soft voice broke the burdening silence.

"Are you going to bed?"

If you were being honest, you hadn't even thought about sleep during your secret adventure and though your body was on the verge of giving out, your restless mind was sure to wander all night. And the idea of being alone with your thoughts scared you.

"Actually… I don't think so," you began, fiddling with your fingers in hopes to not let Fred see how much they were trembling. "I doubt I'd be able to get any sleep now."

"Me too, I admit," Fred scratched the back of his neck, uncertain as to how to make the situation less awkward than it was. Trying to get you to talk was hard enough as it was, but your sudden avoidance wasn't helping either. All Fred wished for was to witness the hopeful spark in your eyes, the spark that he had noticed diminish on the first day of school when the unsettling news was announced.

Fred was determined to bring the light back and see your joyous smile again.

Without skipping a beat he said.

"Come with me."

Your eyes shot up in surprise, meeting Fred's for the first time that night. You expected to see the ever-present playful mischief in them, but instead they glistened with something you could not quite recognize. The corners of his mouth had formed a smile, one that didn't intend to mock or provoke in any way, but still contained his usual boyish charm. It was humble and sincere, and along with the anticipating look in his eyes it read.

Trust me.

Your mouth went dry, any and all reasoning to stay vanishing in thin air as you tried to make sense out of your inner conflict. Fred surely wouldn't care if you said no, would he? It's not like he'd be offended that someone like you refused to go with him; why would he even be interested in you in the first place?

But the idea of spending some time alone with him did sound very tempting - you desperately needed some positivity in that moment, feeling exceptionally drained of all your energy after having to witness the emotional and psychological impact of Umbridge's dictatorship. And if there was someone who could lift your spirit even in such dark times, that would be Fred.

Screw the idea of a potential relationship, you needed a friend right now.

"Where to, Weasley?"

Fred grinned at the nickname and shoved hands into his pockets.

"The Astronomy Tower. Are you coming?"

You smiled at him.

"Sure."

It was indeed a brilliant idea to spend the night at the place where anyone rarely ever set a foot. Regardless of it being crowded during classes all day, the Tower wasn't a common choice for students to meet, them much preferring locations like the common rooms, the Great Hall, the school grounds or even the Black Lake. But the Tower did possess a magnetic, obscure charm which many people failed to comprehend and appreciate; charm only meant to lure the wandering souls seeking peace under the stars.

Fred approached the iron railing, breathing in the cold, early spring air, and sat cross-legged on the ground. As he saw you standing a few feet away from him, he patted the empty spot next to him.

"Come on now, don't leave me sitting on my own like that," he joked and his face lit up when he noticed the ghost of a smile on your lips for a brief moment. You joined Fred on the ground, settling on a polite distance from him, and though he was slightly disappointed by the gesture, he was grateful to be in your presence nonetheless.

Silence fell over both of you like soft velvet while you stared off into the horizon; the view reached the Forbidden Forest, the outlines of which had melted into the pitch black sky like ink, the lines between the two practically nonexistent in the dead hours of the night as they blurred into one endless void.

"I don't remember the last time I saw stars on the sky," Fred addressed your ever-listening companions above in a low, hushed voice that caused warmth to blossom within you regardless of the cold surrounding you.

"Me neither," you agreed, nostalgia creeping into you, but you decided you'd welcome it this time. "Such a shame we can't see the moon though."

Your friend nodded, lips pursed into a thin line, "That's because it's currently new moon. We'll need to wait for awhile until it's visible again."

You turned to Fred and the air was knocked out of your lungs. All you could do was silently admire the way the starlight was softening his sharp features and giving his usually flaming red hair a calming shade of copper. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and you found yourself coming to the conclusion you had realised long ago.

He was such a beautiful man.

Those glowing eyes landed on yours and you felt your face heat up.

"How are you?" he asked abruptly and you choked out in bafflement.

"Y-You mean, right now? Or in general?..."

"How are you coping?" he rephrased. "You know, with everything going on. I noticed Umbridge bothering you recently."

A shuddering breath.

"I like to think that I'm doing better than others," you nodded hesitantly, finding it hard to sort out your emotions. "I'm more worried about the most vulnerable among us, the youngest students. They're just children. They're the ones that are most terrified. I really hope Dumbledore will be able to do something about it… no matter where he might be right now."

Fred was watching you intently; he did not miss your expression, darkened with concern, nor did he miss your slumped figure, slightly hunched over for a reason he believed was other than exhaustion. Your friend moved closer and nudged your foot with his.

"I don't want you to talk to me about the rest. I want to hear about you. I can clearly see you're being tormented by her."

"As if you're not."

"That's not the point," he insisted and placed a hand on your knee, causing you to face him. His smile was gone. "I need to know how this madness is affecting you."

"I couldn't care less about what that toad puts me through," you shook your head dismissively and shrugged. Why was he getting so worked up about it? "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does! It matters to me!" Fred hissed in frustration. "Do you think it doesn't hurt me every time I see Umbridge picking at you or calling you for detention? Because it bloody does and you have no idea how horrible it feels to not be able to help you."

He gave your knee a squeeze.

"For once, just for one time, please. Please, stop trying to be the hero of everybody. Believe me, we see- I see how hard you're trying to keep your chin up despite all the shit you're facing, and that's admirable, but right now it's not necessary. Let go. It's just me."

A way too familiar lump formed in your throat and your chest constricted painfully before it harshly dilated, letting out choked breaths. Fred was quick to envelope you in his long arms before your tears even rolled down your cheeks, and when they did, they met his shoulder. Your hands flew around his neck, body falling into his and soaking up his warmth. Fred pressed his soft lips to your temple, calming the racing pulse as you cried freely and unapologetically. Darling, you feel too much.

It's just me.

Your friend didn't let you out of his hold even when your heart-wrenching whimpers were reduced to weak sobs. He continued cradling your exhausted body which was on the verge of completely giving out. But Fred didn't mind, finding astonishing strength in your vulnerability.

After what seemed like hours, you forced yourself to timidly whisper, lip quivering, "I'm scared... And confused."

"Me too, sweetheart," Fred hummed into your ear. "Me too."

You wiped away the trails of dried tears lingering on your face.

"There's just too much going on. Too much that I'm not ready for."

Realization flashed in Fred's brown eyes and they looked down at you with so much longing, sincerity, but also sympathy and understanding.

You weren't angry at him. You were afraid.

And that was alright.

There was enough time, not need for a rush.

Fred had been waiting for years to find out whether his burning feelings for you were reciprocated, constantly suppressing them in fear of scaring you away and losing you. And now that he knew your heart belonged to him like his did to you, all the stars above couldn't contain his untamed happiness, pure and hopeful.

Surely he could wait a little more for you to grow comfortable with your own emotions.

Fred tightened his hold around you and pecked your cheek tenderly, the subtle touch sending a shock throughout your body and subsiding your need for sleep.

"That's alright," he whispered. "Rest now."

@self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii

Message me if you want to be tagged~

Reblog my work if you enjoyed it!

Masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader angst #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #james phelps #george weasley #oliver phelps #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #harry potter imagines

1K notes · View notes

stolen-pen-name23 · 3 years

Note

13 for the prompts? (If it hasn’t been done yet) with obi wan and qui gon because yes 💜

I sure can! Thank you for the prompt! // From these prompts.

So I think I'm going to actually write a prequel chapter (or 2) for this fic later, so keep an eye out for that!

Anyway, here ya go:

---

As a Jedi connected to the Living Force, Qui-Gon has greater respect than most for life — human or otherwise. So for a practitioner of the Living Force, it is a little unusual for him to feel this homicidal.

No, Qui-Gon has rarely felt rage quite like this.

Of course, he does not want the people… No, wait. "People" is too kind of a word for them. He does not want the vermin slavers who did this to his Padawan to die. He just wants them to suffer for a bit. Suffer like his Padawan is currently suffering — and maybe a bit more after that.

“Let me go!” Obi-Wan screams, pulling on the restraints holding him in place on the bed. Neither Qui-Gon nor Vokara Che had wanted to do this — not after Obi-Wan had just been freed from chains — but he was clawing at his skin and objects around the room had started floating with every aimless gesture of his hands. “Please, Master, let me go,” he begs, his voice raw from screaming.

“Soon, Padawan, soon,” Qui-Gon soothes. “The drugs just need to work their way through your system.”

The logic was lost on Obi-Wan. The young man before him, just barely 18, looks as though he has been betrayed.

“Let me go. Please let me go. I need to stop it, I need…”

“Stop what?” Qui-Gon prods, hoping that humoring his padawan will help him work through it faster.

“Stop him.”

“Who?”

“The man!” he says it plainly like it is a well-known fact who the man is.

“What man?”

“The man with the scar on his eye.”

Qui-Gon tries to think through everyone he knows. He can’t think of a single person with a scar on their eye.

“What is the man’s name?”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan says, frustration mixing into the fear that hangs potent in his Force presence.

“Why do you have to stop him?”

Obi-Wan stops straining against his bonds and his eyes clear momentarily. The sudden stillness feels heavy — like something lying in wait.

“He will tear everything down,” Obi-Wan turns to look at Qui-Gon and his eyes are clear and certain. “Everything.”

A chill runs down Qui-Gon’s spine.

Then the fog returns. Obi-Wan strains against his bonds once more.

“Let me go. Let me out. I’m not supposed to be here!”

“You are exactly where you need to be, my Padawan.”

“No no no no no.” There is a crazed look of hysteria in his eyes. It is so unnatural an expression for his Padawan, Qui-Gon almost cannot bear to look. But he looks anyway because he swore to stand by his Padawan’s side through all things, even this.

“Stop!” Obi-Wan screams. “Stop it! Please! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Qui-Gon shifts uncomfortably. “Who are you talking to?” he asks.

“You were my brother!”

What?

“You… Obi-Wan, you don’t have a brother,” Qui-Gon stutters. Who is he talking about?

Obi-Wan tosses his head to the side and then tosses it again until he’s looking at Qui-Gon.

“Let me go!” Obi-Wan yells.

“So there’s been no change huh?” A female voice cuts in.

Qui-Gon jumps. His attention was so fixed on Obi-Wan, he didn't notice Vokara Che slip into the room.

“What the hell did they drug him with?” Qui-Gon growls, his anger threatening to spill over at just the thought of the slavers and what they did to Obi-Wan.

“We’re still running tests on his blood. But we narrowed it down to some sort of hallucinogen.”

“I could have told you that,” Qui-Gon mutters.

Vokara fixes him with one of her strongest glares.

“Apologies, Master Che,” he amends. “I am just concerned for him.”

“I know,” Vokara says. Qui-Gon is grateful that she does not tell him to release his anxieties to the Force. He is not quite ready to part with them yet.

“Do you have any idea how long this will last?” Qui-Gon asks, hoping this nightmare will end soon.

“It’s hard to say. It depends on his body and how fast it works through the drugs. Hallucinogens can last six hours or they can last as long as fifteen hours.”

“It’s only been three hours,” Qui-Gon says, feeling sick at the possibility of his Padawan enduring this for twelve more hours.

Vokara squeezes his shoulder in sympathy. “He’s a strong boy,” Vokara said. “A strong young man, I should say,” she adds on. “He’ll make it through this. I can’t say for certain without knowing what exactly is in his system, but most hallucinogenic drugs don’t cause any permanent damage.” “Most?”

“What I’m saying is that I think your Padawan will be okay. I have him on an IV so he won’t get dehydrated, which is usually the biggest concern with hallucinogens.”

Qui-Gon turns his attention back to Obi-Wan. Sweat has matted his hair and his skin is a sickly pale color. His screaming has turned into sobbing.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he cries. He pulls at the restraints. “I don’t like these.”

“We don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Vokara says calmly. She runs a scanner over Obi-Wan’s body and looks at the readings. Whether it is good or bad, Qui-Gon is not sure. Her expression gave nothing away.

“If anything changes, please come get me,” Vokara says.

Qui-Gon nods. “Of course.”

Vokara takes her leave and Qui-Gon gives his undivided attention to Obi-Wan.

“Let me go,” Obi-Wan begs again.

“I can’t,” Qui-Gon says. “You heard Master Che. It’s for your own safety.”

Obi-Wan groans. “What is happening to me?”

Qui-Gon’s heart feels like it is breaking open in his chest.

“I’m so sorry that this is happening to you, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says “You’ll be okay soon.”

“But what’s happening?” Obi-Wan asks. Qui-Gon is hopeful that this moment of partial clarity lasts. Obi-Wan has been giving him false hope over the past few hours. Moments of clarity, all chased away by delirium.

“You’ve been drugged,” Qui-Gon says.

“Oh. I feel weird. I feel… not good. Hot.”

“Do you want some water?” Qui-Gon asks.

Obi-Wan looks like he’s going to answer, but his eyes glaze over and he is no longer looking at Qui-Gon.

“I keep seeing…”

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asks.

“I see…”

“What do you see, Padawan?” Qui-Gon asks, hoping he’ll be able to help Obi-Wan realize his hallucinations aren’t real.

“No!” Obi-Wan screams.

Qui-Gon’s hope vanishes. With a sigh, he begins stroking Obi-Wan’s sweat-drenched hair, smoothing it out from all of his tossing and turning.

Hours of begging and screaming and pulling at restraints pass until it seems Obi-Wan’s body is exhausted beyond its limits. His howls turn to whimpers. His sobs turn to hitched breaths. And finally, he passes out. Qui-Gon sighs a breath of relief and prays to the Force that when his Padawan wakes up, he will be his Padawan once more.

***

Qui-Gon can sense Obi-Wan coming back to consciousness before he even notices him stirring. He squints at the bright light of the room and groans.

Obi-Wan tries to move his arm but is held back by the restraints still keeping him down. Panic sets itself in Obi-Wan’s widened eyes.

“Why am I… M-Master?” His chest heaves with growing panic and he starts pulling at the bonds with renewed vigor.

“Hey, hey, Obi-Wan. It’s me. You’re alright,” Qui-Gon says, moving into his line of sight. Obi-Wan stares at him, unblinking and terrified. “What do you see right now?”

Obi-Wan hesitates. “I see you. I… I see this room. There’s not much in it.”

“Okay, good. Can you take a few deep breaths for me while I got get Master Che?”

“You’re leaving?” Obi-Wan asks, his voice going an octave higher.

“Only for a moment. You need to get looked over before I can let you out of those things,” Qui-Gon says, gesturing to the restraints with disdain.

Obi-Wan eyes the restraints and nods his approval.

Qui-Gon races out to find Master Che and she follows him back to Obi-Wan’s room.

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” Vokara says in greeting. “Are you feeling better?”

He nods glumly but does not offer her much else.

“All right, well I’m just going to perform a quick examination okay?”

Obi-Wan nods his consent and Vokara gets to work.

“I’m going to take these restraints off of your hands and ankles all right?”

He nods vigorously and Vokara undoes the buckles. When his hands are freed, Obi-Wan rubs his wrists. They’ve been chaffed raw and the skin is an angry red.

Vokara does not judge. She does not say a word about the welts. She simply takes a jar of bacta gel and rubs it on Obi-Wan’s wrists.

“Those should feel better in a few hours,” she says. Vokara follows the gentle administration with a blood sample. She runs a scanner over his body.

“Your vitals are normal, which is a good sign,” Vokara says. “I’m going to run your labs, and after that, we can see about letting you go home to rest.”

No protests, no haggling, no complaints come from Obi-Wan at the prospect of staying in the halls of healing even longer. Even Vokara raises an eyebrow at this.

“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” she asks. “Any nausea? Headache?”

“A little,” he says softly. Vokara exchanges a glance with Qui-Gon at the admittance.

“That’s pretty normal,” she says. “Is there anything else bothering you? Any other pain?”

“Just tired.”

“That’s to be expected after what your body has been through.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m going to run these labs, but let me know if your headache gets worse or if you feel like you need to throw up.”

He nods obediently.

Vokara leaves Qui-Gon alone with his Padawan.

Obi-Wan’s face scrunches up in concentration.

“What is it, Padawan?”

“There was something… something important…” Obi-Wan starts. Some of his earlier panic starts to return and his chest begins to heave. “I saw it. I just… I don’t know...”

“Hush, it’s alright. None of it was real,” Qui-Gon soothes.

“No!” Obi-Wan says forcefully, and for a moment, Qui-Gon worries the drug has not completely left his system yet. “It was… it felt…”

“How did it feel?” Qui-Gon asks.

Fear, sorrow, and anguish all flash across Obi-Wan’s eyes. His fingers dance in a nervous tapping pattern on the frame of the bed.

“How did it feel?” Qui-Gon asks again.

Obi-Wan stops tapping his fingers.

“Like the end of all things.”

The young man is still, as though he is afraid that the next move he makes will set his visions on a path to fruition.

“You need to stay grounded, Padawan. Stay in the here and now.”

Anger flared in the Force — white-hot and foreign.

“Oh yeah? You try to stay grounded after you get kidnapped by slavers and then drugged with some unknown substance that makes you question everything you see and feel,” Obi-Wan snaps.

Qui-Gon gives him a moment. He needs a moment.

Obi-Wan’s face crumples and he buries his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice muffled by his own hands. His shoulders shake. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright, Padawan. You’ve been through a lot in the last 48 hours. I will not fault you for taking a tone with me.”

Obi-Wan offers him a strained laugh and he wipes at his eyes before looking back up at Qui-Gon. “I just…”

“Tell me, Padawan. Anything.”

“Is this real?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan. This is real.” Qui-Gon grabs Obi-Wan’s hand and squeezes it. “Feel this?”

Obi-Wan nods.

“That’s because it is real. You and I. Here and now. We are real.”

Obi-Wan takes in a shuddering breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Qui-Gon reaffirms.

Obi-Wan nods. “Okay.”

“Good.”

Qui-Gon reaches over and tugs on Obi-Wan’s braid.

“Hey!” Obi-Wan exclaims, rubbing his scalp. “What was that for?”

“For scaring me,” Qui-Gon says, giving Obi-Wan a faux look of reproach.

“Apologies, Master,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.”

Obi-Wan grins at him before yawning.

“You should get some rest.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, but he yawns again.

“You are obviously tired,” Qui-Gon says, unimpressed. “Why don’t you want to sleep?”

“I don’t…”

“Yes, Padawan?”

“If I fall asleep, will you stay?” Obi-Wan finally says, his voice quiet and his cheeks flush with embarrassment. “You don’t have to,” he quickly adds on. “I just. I don’t want to be alone and I’m still not sure if any of this is real and I want it to be real, but I—”

“Of course I will stay,” Qui-Gon says. “You’re real, I’m real, and I’m staying.”

“Thanks, Master,” Obi-Wan says, his eyes fluttering closed.

Qui-Gon stays and keeps guard over Obi-Wan’s dreams.

#my writing #tw non consensual drug use #tw mentions of slavery #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn

90 notes · View notes

hobidreams · 4 years

Text

april 1869.

the night brings with it the moon, rippling waters, and truths silenced with his mouth hot on your skin.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst words: 2.2k contains: historical au, exhibitionism (but more indirectly), rough sex, dirty talk, name-calling, hurt feelings, hair pulling, a very unhealthy (but historically accurate) relationship, yoongi is an ass

moonlit throne index. this is drabble two. start from the beginning?

The chilly evening wind of coming spring sweeps a scattering of fallen leaves across the courtyard. It ripples through the sleeves of your jeogori as you descend from the stone veranda of your quarters towards the private palace gardens. The two guards who stand at the entrance move wordlessly aside upon seeing you, offering you slight bows that you return. Past this barrier, the tall, reaching trees hang against the darkened sky, heavy branches scratching invisible marks over the moonlight. You follow the set path with steady footsteps, passing blooming shrubs with a yawn on your lips. The day has been long and your eyes are sore from studying medicine with only a dim lamp for company. But the breeze - it whisks away fatigue with an enviable ease.

The path winds along the expansive pond. Water lettuce and lily pads cover most of the liquid surface, lining the makeshift island that houses your favorite: the grand pavilion. Recently renovated on the king’s direct instruction. You move closer, slippers leaving stone to scrape the thin wooden bridge.

Something in the dark shifts.

Your eyes fall upon a shadow. Your steps stutter, then quicken.

“Jeonha.”

The king sits on the left bench, near the open front that has yet to be replaced, with a casual arm draped over the intricate banister. He doesn’t stir at the sound of your deliberately soft voice, his gaze remaining mired on something in the distance, far beyond the pavilion’s, or perhaps even the palace’s, reach. His hat is abandoned beside him, the topknot slightly loose where it is bound on his head.

“May I join you?”

He waves his hand absently.

You consider your options, but ultimately take advantage of the pavilion’s half-finished state and sit on the very edge with your legs tucked under you in a traditional kneel. You cannot even remember the last time you’ve sat together like this - out in the open outdoors, away from the tightly-drawn curtains of his chambers and away from prying eyes. Only now do you realize how much it had been missing. “The willow trees have grown out nicely,” you offer, what you hope is a safe topic. You watch a lily pad drift idly by. “I hope the lotus flowers bloom well this year. The pond truly felt so empty last season without their color. I—”

“Is it commonplace for subjects to inflict idle chatter on their king?” The ice in his voice is a slap across the face.

You shut up immediately. Nervously swallow too, but the heaviness in your throat remains stuck. You’ve become uncomfortably familiar with that tone, the quick temper that flares up in seconds but takes its time to dissipate. A part of you wants to retreat and hide; the other can never bear to leave him. Ever so slightly, chewing on the inside of your cheek, you turn your head instead. Take your first good look at him and almost gasp at how gaunt he looks in the sparse light. Nor do you expect the deep purple settled beneath his eyes. If this had been ten or even just two years ago, you wouldn’t hesitate to mention it but with things as they are, you are so nervous to speak and…

“What?”

“Have,” you bow your head slightly, “have you not been sleeping?”

Silence.

“Jeonha?” You press. “Please.”

When he finally looks at you, it’s with a glare. “I haven’t the time.”

“And your meals?”

“Not hungry.”

Your fingers knot. “But rest, sleep is essential. As is food. Without it, to make important decisions—”

“Hah!” His scowl deepens, the scar stretching down with his lips. “It would make little difference in how they are received.”

Ah.

You should’ve known it was impossible to miss the rumors rumbling through the palace, their source the restless palace occupants faced with a ruthless king. He can’t stop the rampant thievery brought on by the grain shortage, yet executes the thieves themselves. His petty rejection of treaty with Japan left threats of war looming like an open wound that refuses to heal. All this, the former king would never have done. Or so the gossip goes.

“Still… Jeonha, you cannot, simply cannot, live like this. The people need you to be strong. They need their leader. Every hour you spend pushing yourself too far is an hour taken off your life. ” Saying the words alone puts a tremble in your fingers. The thought of his death could keep you awake right along with him. Has. But every syllable you speak is an overstep of your boundaries and rank. “I-If something is weighing on your mind, tell me. Use me. Tell me what you need and I’ll try to help however I can.”

He laughs then, but it’s an ugly, mocking sound. With a thud, he drops to the floor. “Spare me your fucking idealism.” His tight fist finds the roots of your hair. He yanks, hard. Your plain hairpin clatters to the floor, teetering wildly off the pavilion edge. “You, help me? What power do you have?” He drags you backwards, your eyes wide and quivering as they find fury in his. “What can you really do?”

He all but rips open your sash and you let him. You let him throw aside the layers that cover your chest until you’re exposed to him, torn white fabric pooling around your arms. His breath is hot at the shell of your ear as he growls, “this is all I need from you. This and nothing else.”

“T-Then use me,” you repeat, despite the dagger stab of pain in your heart. If this will lessen his burdens, you’ll do it. If this will have him in your arms if only fleetingly, you’ll do it.

He grabs a breast and smirks when you tense, then cry out when he pinches a nipple pebbled from the wind. Take it all, you think deliriously when his fingers tighten with an almost unbearable strength, and again when he dips his head low, sucking hard at the nape of your neck to give you a dark ache to remember come morning. He leaves one mark then another, and another, as if threatening to consume you entirely with his desire. And you? You’re addicted to that jolt of pain, the heady wetness of dominance that says he wants you. He wants nothing but you right now, and you tuck that precious knowledge away with a moan.

When he flips you onto your back, you don’t hear the quiet splash as your hand knocks the pin over. All your focus is stolen by your king between your legs, demanding obedience even from his knees. He wastes no time in forcing your skirt up, undoing the ties of the shorts beneath and throwing them aside. You don’t think you breathe until his nail rakes across the scrap of cloth covering your heat. “Look at you,” he mutters. “So wet. Shameless.” He doesn’t bother taking off the sokgot before fucking two fingers into you, deep enough for you to feel the ridge of his knuckles. The way your tight cunt opens and molds to him makes him sink his teeth into his lip in appreciation.

You already feel pressure building when he curls his fingers. It spikes up when he scissors, pushes you apart to hear you gasp. The noise travels far, echoing across the water while he makes a mess of you with each rapid pump. You don’t need to see to know that clear arousal is running down the sides of your lower lips. The sound of slick is as lewd as your whines, pitched at a tell-tale high.

“Fast, too fast,” you groan. But when you shift back, you’re only met with open air beneath your hands. You turn your head in panic and yelp when you realize just how close you are to the edge, with nothing but murky water below. “J-Jeonha, let me bac—”

“No.” His eyes glimmer with something possessive at the sight of you stretched out over the precipice, moonlight’s glow painted across your bare skin. All that pliant softness for him to ruin.

And you do break, when he hits that spot and punishes it without a second’s pause. “Please, oh god, please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for but his palm slaps against your skin with reckless strokes. Your spine curves back, head going with it until all you see is the night and burning stars and everything in this palace that belongs solely to him. You let go. You cum with an errant hand flung out, fingers skimming across the water, the rest of you pinned beneath him. Uncontrollable.

His smile is sadistic as he leans over you, still fully clothed in his royal robes as he watches you tremble. “Think the guards can hear you?” You want to shake your head but all you do is grind your hips into him. “If they turned their heads, they’d see you like this. Needy. Desperate.” He spits the humiliating words through set teeth. “Why don’t I call them over and show them what the esteemed physician is really like?” His cocksure grin stretches even wider when he feels you clench in response. It seems to make up his mind; he doesn’t extract his fingers even though bliss has turned sharply into soreness. Just fucks you through the last of the aftershocks and then some until he brings you to peak for a second, noisy time.

Only then does he draw back, swiping his tongue slowly up his soaked hand. His eyes never leave you, even as he strips enough to pull his thick cock from the folds of gilded silk. You don’t get much of a glimpse before it’s sheathed in you, much fuller than his fingers. Your overstimulated cunt reacts despite the sensitivity, wetly clinging to his shaft as he bottoms out. He doesn’t stop to savor, doesn’t even let you catch a breath before he’s moving forward. His thrusts now, angry and quick and deep - they’re for him.

The low grunts of effort drop alongside sweat down his neck, topknot bobbing back and forth and he keeps going, nimble hips pistoning with none of the precision of his swordplay. Where that is beautiful, controlled movements, he finds himself the exact opposite when he’s inside you. A damn slave to the pleasure surging through his body, and he seems to hate that he needs it. A loathing that he leaves in the bruises on your ass every time you smack to the floor. “Always this tight for me,” he mutters in a low register.

You’re trying your best to hold on, and survive the acute ache of him battering against your deepest core because you could never ask him to stop. Your fingers cling to the stone boundary, holding you to solid ground when everything feels like it’s been tossed clear up into the air. You almost can’t bear to look at him like this. It’ll make you believe in the intimacy shared between lovers when this is—

He snarls your name, draws your attention back. “Say it.”

“J-Jeonha…!”

He must like what he hears and finds in your gaze, for he smirks. “You’ve become a nice little whore for me, haven’t you?”

And that’s it. That’s when you feel the hot sting behind your eyes finally overflow. It’s a word that’s you’ve become well-acquainted with these past few months but to hear it from his lips is... The tears slide backwards down your cheeks, rippling the pond but he doesn’t notice. Or if he does, maybe he pretends they’re of pleasure. If only you could follow suit.

He takes two almost-unbearably deep strokes and then, suddenly, you’re empty. He’s gasping, surprisingly undone as his hand slides frantically on his own cock. Sticky cum soon splatters all over your stomach, staining your skirt with his conquest. Panting, he looks at you through loose strands of blonde hair and doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans forward. For a moment, you forget yourself and expect him to kiss you. Instead, he hauls you up from the brink with a sweaty hand on the back of your neck.

“What? Want something else?” He snaps when he finds your puffy eyes staring at him.

You think about asking him if he’s alright. Maybe he would listen if you tried again, just once more time. But your body is sore, your thighs and core between them especially so. A lingering reminder that this is perhaps all you are good for in his eyes. Whore.

“No. Nothing.”

He stands, wiping dust off his sleeves, but otherwise not bothering to fix much of his wrinkled robes. “Then you are dismissed,” he says, then walks off. Likely to his private quarters, the back entrance connected to this garden.

Alone on the floor, you curl yourself up and still feel the emptiness, a dissatisfaction. You hadn’t noticed it before, but a songbird has been singing, marking the terribly late hour. On a sigh with fingers trembling, you pull the scraps of your jacket around your nakedness and try to shield yourself from the wind.

#ficswithluv #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts angst #yoongi x reader #daechwita #historical au #rain writes #moonlit throne #'drabble' i said... 2k words later... lol

2K notes · View notes

ribbononline · 3 years

Text

When the joke AU gets out of hand and now its like, a whole thing

SO uhm here is the post about the fake marriage on Pasio au! Where the whole fake marriage thing ended up becoming more of a B plot more then anything, oops. The premise kind of got lost on me as I went along.

First things first, here’s the information I gathered from the Hoenn timeline in Pokemas itself so yall know what im working with (and as a side note, if you have no idea about the basic story of Pokemon Masters, the rest of this entire post might be a little confusing);

-Brendan is Normans son, and May the daughter of professor Birch. Brendan has at least defeated Normans gym, and neither of them have met Aqua or Magma, nor Archie or Maxie.

-Magma and Aqua don’t seem to be publicly known as bad in any way.

-The meteor with Zinnia has already happened, and someone else took that destiny from her. (I’ll be honest- I never end up really explaining this here. I had no idea how to even begin making sense of this considering this is post game stuff and Brendan never even seems to have made it to the Elite Four as far as we know)

And with that ! Here’s the actual story I managed to make out of that.

-The backstories for Archie and Maxie are the same as they’d normally be. Things only get different once the ORAS plots would normally start.

Magma and Aqua both don’t commit crimes (such as orb or submarine stealing) with their uniforms on and under their team names. As such, they’re still seen as regular, legit environment organisations trying to better the region.

May and Brendan never get involved with them either. Between no meddling kids and their crimes not being tied back to them, things end up going pretty fast on their end.

-Their crimes aren’t connected nor is anyone looking into them as something bigger- right up until the orbs get stolen. Those are considered important enough artifacts to raise some attention, and so, Steven and Wallace brought on the case to investigate as the Hoenn champions.

-It’s a lot easier said then done, and while they start to suspect Aqua and Magma have something to do with it, they have no concrete proof. Still, they do their best to figure out if it’s them and what their intentions with it would be.

-Regrettably for them they are too slow. Maxie and Archie both make it to the sea cavern , and both raise their respective legendaries. Kyogre is there, Groudon is there, as a result even Rayquaza shows up. There’s a lot going on— and then, within a couple of minutes, there isn’t. All legendaries vanish into thin air, so fast that the population of Hoenn never even realised what was happening out on sea. Except for some unfortunate swimmers who never end up being believed.

Maxie and Archie feel devestated, and the Hoenn League who did notice what happened is very alarmed. Keeping the incident quiet as to not incite a panic, Steven and Wallace are pushed onto this case instead now- to locate the missing legendaries, and ensure they won’t cause any harm- and maybe figure out what caused them to awaken in the first place.

Wallace and Steven immediately link that to the orbs, and as such, Aqua and Magma. Still, they have no actual proof- no one outside their teams saw Archie or Maxie doing anything.

-The reason behind the sudden disappearances turns out to be Hoopa! Who brought all of them to Pasio. The legendaries immediately went from fighting mode into very confused mode. They don’t know where they are or what happened. Groudon ends up hiding in the volcano on the island, while Kyogre keeps to the bottom of the water surrounding the island. -Rayquaza however doesn’t hide itself- and instead, floats around on a mountain top on the island. Rumors start floating around about it, and before long Zinnia shows up and becomes a sync pair with it.

-Steven and Wallace hear Rayquaza is over in Pasio, and figure the other two might be as well- so they go over to investigate. They also talk some with Zinnia about Rayquaza, but since it appears to be fine and calm and Zinnia is not planning on giving it up, she ends up keeping it and they leave her be to search for Groudon and Kyogre instead.

-Magma and Aqua also catch wind of Rayquaza being over there, and even hear about some sightings of what appear to be Kyogre and Groudon around the island. Now the plan is to get over there and get them…. but the problem is that Steven and Wallace are both there, and they’re well aware those two suspect them- and that suddenly showing up for no reason would probably only worsen those suspicions. While the both of them have complete faith in their power as a team, they’d rather not pick a fight with two champions if they can avoid it- especially when they’re on an island full of other champions and elite four members who would probably back them up if asked.

-Going with their entire team would definitely be too suspicious. That’s out. Going with their admins might still be risky- Plus, they can’t exactly leave their teams unattended back in Hoenn. So, Maxie and Archie end up figuring that the best course of action would be for them to go alone, at least for the time being. Scout out if they can locate the legendaries and a way to get to them- and then call backup if needed.

…But if they both go alone at the same time and end up fighting each other while they’re there… it wouldn’t help their case.

-And so, after some thinking things over, Maxie ends up deciding it’d be best if they went together under a temporary truce. So off to Aqua to talk it over with Archie he goes! There, they come up with their plan; faking a marriage, and going to Pasio under the excuse of being on honeymoon. Steven and Wallace wouldn’t be expecting it, so maybe it’d throw them off track! And for the rest of the trainers on Pasio- well, who isn’t happy for a couple living their best life? With a little luck it’d immediately make people trust them a bit more.

-So to Pasio they go! Maxie takes Camerupt as his sync partner, Archie partners with his Sharpedo. They rent a little vacation home- for obvious reasons, they’ll have to live together for a while, but with a little luck they can just avoid each other most of the time. Besides, at least the ad specified there being two beds.

-They misread the ad. There’s one single two person bed. Archie is promptly demoted to sleeping on the couch.

In general, while they do well enough at faking being very affectionate and loving in front of people, the moment they’re back in their house it’s a lot of fighting.

-Steven and Wallace are not stupid, and are immediately wary when Maxie and Archie suddenly show up no matter how well they’re putting on an act. Still, there’s not a lot they can do except keep an eye on them and ensure they stay away from the areas Kyogre and Groudon are spotted.

-The rest of the island however thinks they’re nice! Look at the cute couple having fun. Good for them.

-Overall, while things are going decently okay for Archie and Maxie, Steven and Wallace constantly blocking off areas where they could gather intel and trailing their every move is really hindering their ability to be able to do much of anything. And so the four of them enter an awkward stand still, where neither can really get the other off the island.

-For a while, Maxie and Archie just try to put on the act as best as they can, to hopefully get Steven and Wallace to lower their guard. They go on ‚dates‘ together, hang out with the other people around the island, attend events together, etc. Steven and Wallace still don’t trust them for shit however, and end up pushing May and Brendan towards them in the hopes that they might be able to spot something off.

-Brendan and May have no idea what anyone is trying to do here, and actually really like Archie and Maxie. They help show them all there is on Pasio and introduce them to new people time and time again.

-Eventually, Maxie and Archie realise that this is going to take a lot longer then they were hoping for- between Steven and Wallace not budging, and the trainers on Pasio constantly keeping them busy- they’re going to need an excuse to keep staying here. And they don’t actually need to wait long! -While being a lot less aggressive and in people’s face about it, Archie still talks about the environmental impact the island has on the ocean around it a good bit to some of the other trainers there- he is leader of an environmental group focused on the sea back at home, after all! People actually start agreeing with him, to a point it even reaches Lear. Conceding something should be done, Sawyer starts working on putting a team together that would help undo the damage they’ve caused by making the oceans around the island more habitable for the Pokemon that were made homeless because of them. Archie is one of the first people to get asked to join the team- and having a job there makes a great excuse to stay a while longer. Besides, it’s still working towards his goal to some extent, so he’s down! -A bit after that Maxie ends up joining the team that made the island and is currently in charge of keeping it thriving. Same for him- the job still aligns with his ideals, so he doesn’t mind doing it.

-This was also the time Archie started having serious back pain from sleeping on the couch each night, so he took the bed as well. Maxie threatened to kick him out, Archie wished him luck with that and… well, they both just keep to their side of the bed now.

-Back at home, Magma and Aqua are being good legit environmental groups working within the law. It’s been gaining them a great reputation, and being fully legitimate and not having to fear getting charged for crimes is also very nice for the teens working as grunts there.

-And so back in Pasio, Maxie and Archie forcefully have to take a step back from their plans… to live relatively normal lives instead. Surprise surprise, it’s not actually that bad! They enjoy their jobs, they actually start making some friends, half the kids on the island seem to have adopted them as cool new uncles… and they even start fighting less in private! They can actually get along sometimes.

Eventually the realisation hits that they’re living out the lives they wanted- before they ever joined Rocket and everything went so terribly wrong. Except their marriage being ‚fake‘, this was more or less the future they envisioned… and it’s very weird to think about.

-For Maxie, he does get sad reminiscing, and reminisce he does- but as long as Archie keeps going , he’d never give up his plans. While originally raising Groudon was truly out of his ideals, over time (and when their original breakup happened) it became less about that- and more about ‚winning‘ - winning out over Archie, and proving to both himself and the other he’d been right all along. Even when the evidence started pointing towards that not being the case and Tabitha only agreeing this was a bad idea, he was so caught up in not being able to lose now he never backed down- and just reassured himself the science had to be wrong.

As long as Archie is going, so is he.

-Archie however…. Archie’s plans of flooding the world to reset it- undo the damage humanity caused by ending it entirely- were born out of feeling like there truly was no other option, truly was no other good left. Being focused on that goal every day, it wasn’t hard to stay in that mindset. But now, having to forcibly take a step back- suddenly getting to live a normal life again, with a way to help that doesn’t require death and a support system outside of Aqua… Suddenly the hope returns that maybe there is more out there- maybe there is another way to go about this.

And so, after a lot of thinking, and a lot of doubting every answer he came up with- finally he rang up Shelly and Matt to talk things over, and talk about leaving Kyogre be. Shelly was thrilled- at the end she didn’t trust his plans with Kyogre anymore anways and seeing Archie finally with agree with her on that was a big relief to her. Matt didn’t entirely understand, but Archie seemed happier with this idea, and Shelly definitely seemed happier with this idea- so he certainly didn’t mind.

Afterwards, Shelly ends up privately talking to Archie some more, where he confided a lot in her about stuff he never told her before. It was a lot to take in, and she definitely wasn’t happy about his plans having always been to more or less commit genocide on humanity without ever having told them- but at the end of the day, he’s still her friend, no damage has actually been done, and he’s finally talking to her about it so they can work it out. As such, with some help from her, Archie ends up going to therapy on the regular to help keep him in a better headset.

-After all of this, Archie pulls Maxie aside to let him know he’s giving up on Kyogre, and Maxie… just doesn’t know how to feel about it at all- doesn’t even know if he can trust him. He certainly wasn’t expecting this either way. For a while, Archie just goes about his day on Pasio, while Maxie went very very quiet, just watching him from a distance.

They both spend so much time on this- suddenly given up was something he never thought would be an option, and it’s a lot to process. Besides, Archie could be lying. ….But truthfully, he’s known the other way too long to believe that. Archie is serious about this, and it’s not particularly hard to tell.

So, after a lot of hemming and hawing, he too finally rings up Courtney and Tabitha and calls of their mission with Groudon.

Magma and Aqua are both just legit regular environmental organisations now.

-Now with that decision made, they end up talking a lot over between each other themselves. About their past, about their teams, and about what they want to do now. This is where they finally decide to actually give their relationship another chance as well. Not necessarily as a romantic relationship- thought not strictly as just friends either. They decide to just take it slow, see what they’re comfortable with, and see where it takes them from there.

(A lot of trainers in Pasio actually worry this is when they got into a fight- since they stop acting overly affectionate to put on an act, and instead get to have awkward conversations trying to rekindle their relationship. Everyone is so worried about what happened. Sorry guys, they’ll be okay)

-Though they fully intent on going back to Hoenn and their teams, they’re not in a hurry to leave and stick out their job contract which only were for about half a year total anyways. During this, even Steven and Wallace start noticing a change in them and finally lower their guard a bit. They never do end up attempting to get to the legendaries- they’re just enjoying their time here now.

-When they do finally get back to Hoenn, they merge the teams and help the land and the sea together now. Archie also ends up convincing Maxie to join him for therapy sometimes- even without them almost ending the world, they do still both have their things to work trough.

-Groudon and Kyogre just vibe on Pasio now. They let kids battle them for fun sometimes. They’re doing alright.

-Brendan and May end up visiting Archie and Maxie a lot! That’s their cool gay uncles now.

-Somewhere along the way, as time passes, they actually end up legitimising the marriage documents they faked at the very start. And they still return to Pasio from time to time to meet up with the friends they made there. :]

Apologies if any of this was messy or unclear! it was a lot to try and condense down into a single post and I did my best, but ykno. if there did appear to be smth missing feel free to shoot me a message or an ask orz also this is my second time writing this post- first time i made the stupid mistake of typing it up in browser. And after over an hour of typing this all up…. tumblr refreshed for no reason, and deleted all of it. so writing this all a second time has been even harder then the first. ;; it hurt so bad.

Also, I do have a lot of thoughts n ideas abt the actual relationships they end up having w other characters on the island, but I’m saving that for another post! With the premise of Pasio there’s just so much potential to stuff all these diff characters from diff games into a place togehter and i want to make the most of that- so its prolly gonna b another long post lmao. i wont make this one even longer then it already is, so diff post it is

just know that they did in fact once see Giovanni on the island, and they almost ended up throwing hands.

(bonus; the link to the page where I keep all my oras HC posts and comics sorted)

#oras #pokemon oras #magma leader maxie #team magma maxie #team aqua archie #aqua leader archie #hardenshipping #fuck man #i was done w the OG post at 3am #n i was gonna go to bed #then it self destructed #its 5am now. i hate it here #AT LEAST ITS DONE. HELP #welcome to the shitshow <3 where i write up a Lot #i hope this makes sense ! it took uh. too much time #n i cant wait to get to character interactions wwwww #i like how the premise was a fake marriage au for funni hijinks then it immediately became the B plot #i promise the funni hijinks exist. theyre just more minor n as such not included in full on writeup posts where i have to keep an entire #plot going lmao #ok i post this now before the site crashes again #also i meant to get done on the starting the teams main timeline hc post first but #brainwaves suddenly hit hard for this one KJHFDS #i was bored one day at work n the brain was like congrats. we r making this a serious au now #n i was like HUH

125 notes · View notes

imaginationofacrazyfangirl · 3 years

Text

Imagine You are All Might’s Personal Assistant

All Might truly is the fastest man on Earth.

“What do you mean he just left? Where could he have gone?” you shout.

The police officer shrugs giving you a pitying look. It makes you want to smack it off his young baby looking face. Unfortunately, that would be assault and you are pretty sure you’d get arrested…All Might’s personal assistant or not. Besides you don’t want to deal with the added stress of bad publicity, even if you get some joy out of it.

“Well, we just got a call about a robbery not too far from here. Maybe he went –“baby officer barely got the words out, before you sped off shouting a loud, “Thank you!”

Ask any personal assistant of a major superhero, what the most important ability needed for their job was, and they all answer: being able to always find your superhero. It may seem like a simple ability seeing how superheroes almost always made themselves known to the public (minus a few underground heroes like Eraserhead, who hated the spotlight), but, it isn’t so simple. Sure, you know how to easily find All Might, for that you just check online. After all, the All Might Watch Forum tends to keep a better update on the hero than the police did. No, the real trouble comes in figuring out how to get to where your hero is.

For almost all personal assistants this is the first pain of their job. Superhero’s often have their own means of transportation and vice versa for their sidekicks; personal assistants though generally consisted of people with average quirk abilities. Meaning while their bosses took to the skies, teleported, or ran at breakneck pace, they themselves took taxis-or in your case ran. Luckily for you, All Might’s next heroic save happened to be only a few blocks away. An annoyance still but manageable. You only pray now that he stays there. The hero has a horrible habit of leaving without a word.

Thankfully luck is on your side for the first time today. All Might is still there when you arrive. His loud boisterous laughter reminding those around him that everything is alright. Besides him, a bloody villain slumps over, tied in what looks like clothed nappies? Apparently, the robbery took places at a daycare of all places, or at least it did, if any of the cooing babies and swooning mothers had anything to say

Pushing your way through the crowds of excited reporters and citizens, you hear All Might’s too familiar boom of , “Fear not. Because I am here!”

You can’t help the bitter irritation rising in you. Fear not? Oh, someone is going to have something to fear. Boss or not, he’s totally going to hear it from you. However, the lecture gets put on pause as you finally make it to the front. All Might’s still there standing proudly in front of a disturbingly bland daycare front. Its simplistic lettering of ‘KIDZ LEARN ABC’S” contrasts against his glowing persona. Around him, toddlers and mothers alike drool trying for his attention, to which he spares a grin and handshake to each one.

The sight screams All Might. It is so pure, so kind, so friendly-you must take a picture for social medial! Sliding the portable camera out of your bag, you quickly snap a couple of pics. Job number three of being a hero’s personal assistant: run their social media accounts. Most heroes with personal assistants fall into one of two categories: they are either high in ranking or up and coming. Either way, they all need someone to manage their publicity stuff.

Despite the flash of the camera, All Might takes no notice of you. Probably due to all the ongoing flashes of media cameras around him. The attention comes with every save so he’s more than used to someone somewhere taking his picture. No, it’s not until some brown-haired reporter asks, “All Might, a word please?”

That you intervene letting your presence be known. “All Might is unfortunately needed elsewhere. So, any questions or requests for an interview about today’s current rescues can be forward to his agency.”

The blond-haired hero stiffens besides the reporter. Sweat begins to form on his face at the sight of you. As horrible as it sounds you take great pleasure in the panic on his face. Not many people scare the great Symbol of Peace. In fact, you can only really say two other people not including yourself, have the power to make the hero squirm.

“(Y/N)- I didn’t see you there.” The hero stutters uncharacteristically.

You shoot him your best glare, causing him to shrink back. No one will ever understand just why someone so comparably tiny and non-life threatening could have so much control over the hero. Villains came and went without him so much as breaking a sweat. Yet you with neither the power nor quirk to stop him, scare All Might.

“I saved a pre-school!” he babbled, picking up a random toddler. “See? Aren’t they the most precious thing you ever seen? Wouldn’t it be horrible if something happened to them?”

He is milking it, and he knows it. Not only does he sound like a bumbling idiot on camera, but the toddler he chose, smells something awful. Still All Might refuses to give up. Children are your weakness. Their gummy gooey smiles make you coo every time. In fact, if you weren’t his assistant, the hero is sure you’d be a teacher.

“All Might, we agreed on letting other heroes do the rescuing sometimes? Remember? Keeping the market open for others?” you press voice low.

‘ Keeping the market open for others,’ a code for ‘you’re going to run out of time.’ A hard to swallow truth, but the truth nonetheless. Not many people knew about his injury, his time limit, but you knew everything-almost everything. For your safety, he kept the truth behind his quirk a secret. His return to Japan/ his decision to take on teaching all hidden under the guise of searching for a successor.

“Yes, well-look at these chubby cheeks!” he replied, pushing the kid towards you. Again shameless, but did he really care? No. Last time All Might angered you, he sported a pink suit for two months. And while the hero didn’t discriminate against any color, the hearts and frills were too much. “Could I really risk the chance of another hero arriving on time?”

“All Might-“ you started only for the kid to cry, “All Might!” as well.

You glanced over at the toddler, eyes softening. Said hero couldn’t help but feel like the cat who ate the canary. Silently he cheered for the kid to continue. If they did a really good job, All Might would send them some signed memorabilia.

Shaking your head, you fought the doubt creeping within you. As preferable as it would be to just let the man off, you knew you couldn’t do it. Rescuing kids may take priority to most things, however not when there are other heroes perfectly capable of doing the job for him. “Don’t try and get out of this one. I’ve chased you to not two or three, but five different incidents.” You pressed. “Without flight, teleportation, or transportation! Do you know how hard it is for someone without a quirk or car to follow you?!”

All Might slumped slightly under the pressure of your lecture. Each escaping your mouth seemed to hit him worse than any supervillain could. “Not to mention you’re overdoing it again.” You lectured, ignoring the exasperated looks on his and everyone else’s face.

You knew how people viewed. Most PA’s tended to be shy docile beings pushed around by their heroes or ignored. In fact, the average years for a PA to work under a hero ranged from two to three years, before they either quit or got fired. Those who lasted longer tended to be outliers such as yourself; people not easily cowed by the awe of their employers. As for All Might’s view of you…he knew how much you truly cared about him. It was why he kept you around despite your lecturing and harsh tactics.

Having someone worry for him felt nice, especially given how he cared more about others than himself. A natural feeling obviously for heroes, but All Might ignored his health beyond that of usual heroes in your opinion. “You worry too much, (Y/N). I’m built to last.” He grinned, thumping his chest. “See?”

His words did nothing to quell your fear. From day one-even before the tragic accident you worried over him; almost as if he wasn’t the world’s greatest hero just another human being. It was strange considering how used to being worshipped by even his own friends, All Might was. Everyone saw only the smile and hero versus the man behind it. Yet you never did. To you, All Might was just a man with an extraordinary job and that…that felt nice.

“Come on (Y/N), let’s go home. I promise to leave the rest of the saving to the other heroes for today.” All Might grinned, patting your head.

You blinked cut off mid-rant. A warmth spread through your cheeks at the gesture, but you pushed it back. Falling in love with your hero was a big no-no in the world of PA’s. However could anyone really blame you when it came to such a selfless man like All Might?

#all might x reader #all might imagine #toshinori yagi x you #toshinori x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #bhna x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero acadamia oc #bnha imagine #mha imagine

209 notes · View notes

musicallisto · 3 years

Text

♕ — 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝; (anya x f!reader)

summary: “Well! What you need right now is a little bit of spirit-lifting. And I know exactly the medicine.”

prompt: “How long as it been since you’ve slept?” song: dodie - Would You Be So Kind | 𝄞

author notes: my entry for @locke-writes ’ 1.5k writing challenge, and also my first time writing for anastasia! I hope you all enjoy this <3 (i don’t know how to say this but anya is dani and reader is jamie from thobm i don’t know why it makes sense but it does). I wrote this in second person at first then changed my mind and switched everything to third, then changed my mind again so if you see inconsistencies in the pronouns, that’s why (lol i’m a mess)

word count: 1.6k features: a bit of sad Anya, but mostly fluff; singing and music. this is really not my best writing but i’m rusty and overworked so please don’t insult me

𝐎𝐇, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃.

“Who is your great-grandmother?”

“Queen Victoria...”

“Who is your great-great-grandmother?”

“Erm — Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coldburg-Saalfeld!”

Through the beaten mahogany doors, Anya’s attempts at ladyship have been reaching your ears all day. Enthusiastic in the beginning, they have grown progressively more frustrated as the night has swollen, and your friends’ demands with it. There’s little in courtly life, you imagine, that Anya hasn’t tried her hand at yet.

Oh, the poor child indeed.

“Your best friend is...”

“My little brother Alexei —”

“Wrong! Your best friend —”

“I know who my best friend is!”

The outrage in Anya’s voice is almost as palpable as the bitter cold in your room, adjacent to their rehearsals; you can’t help looking up from your book at the closed door, as if it could tell you how to avoid the collision threatening your group. You grit your teeth, both in empathy and apprehension.

“What a temper!”

“I don’t like being contradicted!”

“That makes two of us!”

“Continuing on —” Vlad tentatively interjects, but Anya and Dmitry’s exasperation, even muffled, is clear in their voices. A second more and one of them will snap; although you’re uncertain which of the two short fuses will go off first.

“I’ve had it!”

Ah, so Anya it is.

“I hate you both! I’m sorry that we ever met — I’m hungry, I’m frightened, and I’m only human, don’t forget! I don’t remember anything — get out and let me be!”

“Anya, darling...”

But Vlad’s soft tone, ever the cunning mediator, is not enough this time to alleviate the young woman’s turmoil; and before he’s finished his sentence, raging steps echo in the vast hall, and a door slams — your door, at the step of which Anya stares you down, blinks in confusion, frowns, then lets out a harrowing sound.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know you were here —”

“It’s alright. You can stay here as long as you want.”

Anya lets out a long exhale, heavy as a storm cloud, and slumps down on the foot of your bed with a resounding thud. Her shoulders crumple over themselves like bruised wings, and silence falls on the vast house.

But you can’t keep your attention on your book for very long — not only because the living story before you, defeated and worn, is much more vibrant and bewitching; also due to the racing of your heart whenever Anya stands near you. From the moment you’ve laid eyes on her, and even through the dust and gloom of your night, she’s kept that same regal beauty to her — something neither tatters nor amnesia can erase. It’s not in a long-lost parentage, you think, but all in the way her soul rustles with excitement at anything new and beautiful... rare are the souls, in Saint Petersburg, that gray skies and red stars have not yet tattered.

“They’re making you go through everything, aren’t they?”

“Heavens, yes! It’s too much, and I just want to go home!”

You set your book aside, directing your full attention to Anya.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

“Maybe before the horseriding lessons — I can’t even remember!”

“Horseriding? Was that before the mazurka?”

“Yes, and before ten in the morning! Do you know the order of arrival for each guest at an Imperial ball? First, the Great Princes who come through the entrance in the Saltykov lane, then the bearers of the Court Ranks...”

“Anya, I don’t think that’s neces —”

“And married women must wear diadems! Is that not idiotic? What if I’m unmarried but don’t want to wear flowers in my hair?”

“I think you have way more important problems than your Imperial headpiece, like breathing.”

As if on cue, she takes a sudden gulp of air, and her reddened face, constricted by irritation, somewhat relaxes; maybe from the oxygen, maybe from the slight, amused smile that has crept onto your lips.

“Why haven’t they trained you to be Anastasia?” she resumes, her mouth now curled in a pout.

“Have you seen me?” you chuckle, all holed clothes and creviced skin, but your eyes loving. “I couldn’t even pass for Anastasia’s dog keeper.” (She can’t tell you yet, but she thinks you would make a wonderful princess, gracious and intelligent; but she blushes at the direction her thoughts are taking.)

“Dmitry could be the dog.”

“What a lovely sight.”

You settle into a comfortable silence, cross-legged together on either end of the bed, as the biting wind howls and claws at the window outside; but neither of you feels the cold. December is long forgotten, glowing dim as an ember, as long as you keep your gaze on Anya’s appeased face, the blush on her cheeks, and the romantic delicacy of her features.

“Do you believe you might be the Grand Duchess?”

Your question is but a whisper, and you fear she might not have heard you, even more so since she doesn’t turn her head to face you; but rather her gaze clouds, immobile in the flickering white light. A mist of melancholy traverses her face. A second later, it is gone, save for the last specks of snow in her eyes that never seem to melt.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything,” she responds truly, her words equally as quiet as yours.

“Well, for starters,” you pick up, a little louder this time, “if Anastasia had the temper people say she had... you’ve got that covered.”

She chuckles, like the tinkling of snowflakes twirling in the wind.

“She does sound like she was a lot of trouble, doesn’t she?”

“I think she sounds pretty charming.”

But before you can let the silence stretch for too long, and worry to crease Anya’s porcelain skin again, you enthusiastically slap your thighs and jump from the bed.

“Well! What you need right now is a little bit of spirit-lifting. And I know exactly the medicine.”

After rummaging through the mountain of clutter piled in the corners of your room — what in the world are Vlad’s sketchbooks doing here anyw-- Christ, so that’s where that book was all this time! — you brandish in triumph a triangular-shaped instrument, the one you carved yourself in leftover logs, on a particularly freezing night, the one the three of you painted with care until the crack of dawn to keep you warm and joyful.

“Oh, play me something, please!” Anya’s childlike passion engulfs your heart as you clumsily test out the chords. The balalaika is worn and sanded off at the sides, and severely out of tune, but your hands find their familiar places without hesitation, and the sound of the instrument is clear enough for the both of you on an exhausting and windy night.

You pick up speed, falling into a melody you once knew; what fragments you can’t remember, you improvise, and try your best not to grimace; but Anya’s leaning over, eyes and smile wide as though she wants to drown in your music, and all of a sudden your chest has started to sing on its own.

“Would you be so kind as to fall in love with me? You see, I’m trying; I know you know that I like you, but that’s not enough, so if you will please fall in love, it’s only fair...”

Your eyes leave the strings as your voice rediscovers the words, your fingers the notes; Anya, in front of you, nods her head to the rhythm she savors for the first time, her foot keeping time unconsciously. If she ever had a childhood, this is surely what it was made of: soft, loving voices, gleaming eyes, a ray of light on her face, and the irrepressible urge to laugh.

"There’s gotta be some butterflies somewhere, wanna share? ‘Cause I like you, but that’s not enough, so if you will please fall in love with me...”

You’re grinning wide too, now, but unaware of it; all you see is Anya and her joyful brilliance, and you could swear that despite all the weariness in her body and the bruises on her soles, she’s ready to jump around in utter liberation. If only the music descended by itself from above your heads, you think, and you could drop the balalaika to dance with her — a dance she might enjoy, this time, a dance she doesn’t know the steps to!

Soon enough, you start giggling, without really knowing why; maybe from the silly wiggling of the shoulders Anya does, or maybe from the overflowing of light and sun in your chest; and it’s a pain to let out the last words between your uncontrollable laughter, even more after Anya starts laughing too.

“Oh, I like you, but that’s not enough... so if you will please fall in love with me...”

And so, after your grand finale — holding the last note a little too long and a little too high, and stroking the strings a little too fast like a Russian bolero —, the song comes to an end, the notes hanging in the air like your suspended laughter and hitched breaths... and your sparkling eyes lost in the sea of each other dare to hope, for the first time, that something might happen...

... but it doesn’t.

“Thank you for cheering me up,” she pulls back with a sincere smile, and you can’t fight the cruel disappointment seeping in your chest. Of course — you’re still in Saint Petersburg, where dreams have died long ago, and she has a fate much larger than yours. Still, you return the kind smile. She deserves as much; she deserves everything.

“No, thank you. For letting yourself be cheered up.”

The wind is still howling outside the window, but it carries, like an effervescence, the distant music of a balalaika, and you remain hopeful, your hand resting next to Anya’s.

If she would be so kind...

tagging; @softeninglooks @fives-cup-of-coffee (all my writing) ; @bravelittlesunflower @lxncelot @amortensie (musicals)

#mywriting #anastasia #anastasia broadway #anastasia imagine #anastasia one-shot #anastasia x reader #anastasia fanfiction #anya x reader #anya imagine #anya one-shot

73 notes · View notes

nataliesnews · 1 year

Text

The one problem with audible is that when you hear something unless you stop at that moment it is very difficult to go back. I just read about a British dowager in 1914 who is speaking of her funeral and saying she has to be sure it till be done properly as she will not get a second chance. The third PDF is what I think will happen…maybe Netanyahu should let his fascists go full stream…..let the world see what Israel is becoming Here is a photo….Ben Gvir’s wife and her fellow settler women and ……..birds of a feather You don’t believe soldiers lie …or disremember …what actually happened. Read four hours of disaster above. Added to the pdf …from the Rabbis for Human Rights. It was not just a handful …..there were hundreds. At least this time the news reports even though muted accuse the so-called religious of starting the fight though they hasten to say that the Palestinians also threw stones. They are not Christians so do not believe in turning the other cheek. And they were those who were pushed back and threatened by the soldiers. Very little is said of the damage that the fascists did. Nor is any Palestinian who was hurt give a voice. But much is made of the woman soldier who was attacked. But of course in this case the attacker has not been arrested. Had he been a Palestinian he would have been dead on the spot. No Palestinian The sights of horror from the city of Hebron yesterday, during the Shabbat of Sarah's life, do not give rest. Dozens of Jewish rioters loot a lot of property belonging to the Palestinian residents of the city, smash shop windows and throw stones. What we know well from the villages in the West Bank where we concluded last month together with the Palestinian farmers, received a double and multiplied expression in the city of Hebron, in a pogrom of rioters who have no God. *** In a Torah talk that she wrote a lot to Anna Zilbman-Solovey, coordinator of rabbinical and community relations at the "Rabbin's Voice for Human Rights" in preparation for Shabbat Hai Sara, she says: "About two weeks ago, we toured this part of Hebron with a group of rabbis and rabbis. We learned that at any given moment, we are in Between 650 and 800 soldiers, whose main purpose is to protect the Jewish residents of the city. The Jewish neighborhoods were established close to the Cave of the Patriarchs, but they adjoin the Palestinian neighborhoods. During the tour, we walked through empty streets, which until recently were bustling and full of people, in the historic center of Hebron. The Shuhada, the Kasbah of Hebron. Due to the orders of the military regime which prohibited the merchants from opening their shops following the events of the second intifada in the early 2000s, many Palestinian residents left the city, of course without any financial compensation. We were horrified to learn of "sterile" areas where entry to Palestinians is prohibited. In the modern, democratic and Western state of Israel, there is a place where people are not allowed to walk the streets of the city where they live. "History, archeology, biblical evidence, the city of the fathers and mothers, the Cave of the Patriarchs - all of these are very important. But what about the value of human life and its sanctity? Are graves of dead people more important than people living among them? "This coming Shabbat, thousands of Jews will flock to the city of Hebron and the Cave of the Patriarchs, in order to sanctify the dead. They will do so in the name of all of Judaism. I believe that Judaism has many faces. In Judaism, life is of utmost importance, and the values of freedom, justice, human rights, And eternal remembrance that all sons and daughters of man were created in Tselem, both Abraham and Sarah and their many descendants as well as the Palestinian residents whose home is in Hebron. I pray for the memory of Sarah our mother and ask that we remember Sarah's pain at the time of the binding. Let us not oppress other people, who live among us. We are all sons and daughters of Abraham and Sarah." *** Condemnations and words from the mouth to the outside will not help. Jewish terrorism - yes, there is no other way to call it other than that - must be uprooted. Dismantle the hillbilly organizations that group teenagers and young people from the social fringes, offer them a shaky social framework and a hateful ideology and excite them with superior feelings. We need severe punishment and enforcement against the rioters and we need to ensure the safety of the residents of Hebron, as well as the safety of the farmers in the West Bank, that no harm will befall them as long as there are those in the name of God sinning and doing evil. Natanya Natalie Ginsburg Henrietta Szold 2 Migdal Nofim Room 708 Kiryat Hayovel Jerusalem 9650230 Israel Tel 0528-375593 Nofim Tel 972-(0)2-6580222 Home 972 (2)6418387 no messages Cellphone preferable

The third PDF is what I think will happen…maybe Netanyahu should let his fascists go full stream…..let the world see what Israel is becoming

Here is a photo….Ben Gvir’s wife and her fellow settler women and ……..birds of a feather

You don’t believe soldiers lie …or disremember …what actually happened. Read four hours of disaster above.

***

#Politics 21.11.2022

0 notes

acahope311 · 3 years

Text

I Promise

A/N: Amari, Queen of Erebor and wife of Thorin Oakenshield, spends a day exploring the secret tunnels with their son, Arnel. But when a friendly and peaceful mother-son outing turns deadly in a heartbeat, can she keep her family and home safe? This is my first ever fic, so I hope you like enjoy it :) Also the lullabye I reference is “Hushabye Mountain” from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Warnings: blood, angst, tears

Words: 6547 (it’s a doozy)

I wanted to say thank you so much to everyone for taking the time to look at the story and reassuring, supporting, and hyping me up through the whole process! ^-^

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, in the walls of a secret tunnel, the quiet calm was broken by childish giggles and squeaks. Amari, Queen of Erebor, and her son, Arnel, explored secret tunnels that snaked in and out of Erebor with excitement. Initially, Amari was reluctant to venture into such a dangerous expedition with her son, but even she could not stand against a cherub face framed with a hint of dark peach fuzz. Preparing for this outing, she decided to move her queenly duties aside and trade her gown for a borrowed tunic and trousers from her husband's wardrobe, her bladed tonfas sheathed in her hip holsters. Although still in their home, it was best to always be prepared when entering unknown areas of the mountain.

"Amad, hurry!" the squeal of a child reverberated down the abandoned walls of an ancient tunnel that wound around the base of the Lonely Mountain. Amari smiled fondly at her son as he pulled at her hand, urging her to quicken her pace.

"Calm down, ibinê. We have all day, sweetheart. If you keep pulling, you'll run out of energy, then we'd need to return." The queen warned as she gently pulled the young prince into her arms. Whining, he tried to pull away from her grasp.

"Maaaa, I'm not a baby, I'm almost seven! I'm a warrior!" Arnel scowled as he fended off his mother's affection, but failing as he too started to giggle at her kisses.

"Of course, my warrior prince. Now let's just walk a bit further, then go and save your father from those boring councilmen, hm? I’m sure your sister is there too." She gently placed him down and ruffled his hair affectionately.

The dwarf prince was about to object, when suddenly a low growl came from his stomach. Embarrassed, Arnel looked down. "That wasn't me…"

Amari laughed heartily at his expense, further annoying the child prince.

"S’ not funny!" He whined, stomping his tiny foot. Looking up indignantly at his mother, his ocean blue eyes flashed a storm. Although a Durin worthy scowl took place on his face, little tears formed in his eyes, threatening to fall from embarrassment. Amari held her laugh in as she picked up her son again and wiped them from his face.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Of course it didn't come from you. Now, why don't we head back? I am getting a bit hungry…" Arnel took this opportunity to divert the blame to someone else; he stroked his non-existing beard mischievously and looked away for a moment.

So much like his father. She thought as she studied his face.

"Well if you are tired, it is only right for a warrior to keep the Queen safe and well fed. Right, Mama?" He asked, unsure but firm in his thinking. Amari nodded and put him down.

"Right you are! Spoken like a true prince. Now, let's head straight to the kitchen and make some pizza, then I'll tell you a story from my world while we cook. I think we will need to make a BIIIIG pizza for your father and sister. What do you say, kiddo?" Arnel perked up at that; he always loved hearing tales of your life before coming to Middle Earth.

"Yes please! Can you tell me the story of your amad and namad? I like hearing that story." Reaching up to her, she picked him up and cradled him to her hip.

"Of course, my-"

Suddenly a rock tumbled across the flat ground towards them, as if kicked by an unseen being. Its sound echoing through the darkness making the hairs on Amari’s neck stand on end. Instinctively she hugged her son tighter to her chest. A menacing laugh surrounded them, thickening the air with fear and anxiety.

"I'd like to hear that story too. Can I join you?" A deep, rasping voice came from the end of the tunnel, shattering the safe haven of mother and son. Amari turned protectively to the source. Stepping out of the shadows, a group of orcs emerged.

Orcs?!?! Here in Erebor?! Adrenaline started to course through the woman's body. Looking more closely at the creatures, she realized these were not orcs. Uruk Hai. Amari's face paled at the realization. It was no wonder, though, she thought them to be orcs at first sight. However these creatures were taller, more muscular, and oozed evil- so much so that even the eternal torches that lined the tunnel cowered before them. She hadn't even realized that she started to back away until they moved forward menacingly. Stained with blood and hair, they gripped a black sword in one hand, and in the other…

Oh no…

A large body was being dragged, no bigger than a dwarf.

Frode…

The young guard’s uniform was torn and tattered, soiled with dirt and blood. Amari had wondered where her assigned guard was that morning, but never in her life would she have anticipated this. Her flight or fight reaction kicked into fight mode, but in her arms, she could feel Arnel's shaking body, eyes brimming with fear and tears. Gently, but quickly, she brought her hand to shield his view of the carnage and threat looming over them.

"How did you get into our home? Get out!" She yelled with such fierceness that it startled both herself and Arnel. The leader chuckled maliciously before dropping the body with a sickening thud.

"I don't think so. We like it here, you see. But even more so! Boys look, this isn't any human. The queen under the mountain has graced us with her presence." He sneered, his companions growling like a pride of lions, eyeing their prey. "And look… she brought a snack. How thoughtful your majesty." Amari tightened her hold on Arnel. Not breaking eye contact from the advancing Uruk hai, she spoke to her son softly and calmly in their secret language.

"Sweetheart. I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me?" Arnel looked at his mother, her brown eyes looking away from his, but he could see her panic. He had never seen his father, nor his mother afraid, but witnessing her fear, he let out a small whimper, but he knew that he had to be strong. Gulping audibly, he nodded. "Yes, mama." He whispered as bravely as he could.

"Thank you, my brave, brave warrior. Now, I need you to hold on tight, and hide your face to my neck. Don't look up, no matter what ok? It'll be like when we play peek-a-boo with adad. Remember? It'll be just like a game!" Amari says the last part as lightheartedly as she could, but a quiver in her voice betrayed her. She was terrified; under normal circumstances, the Queen would never back down from a fight, but with such precious cargo in her arms, she did the next best thing. She ran.

----------------------

How did they get in?! How the fuck did this happen?!

Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, the quiet calm was broken by the sounds of quick and light footsteps, rapidly outrunning the thundering and heavy footfalls of evil.

Amari ran as fast as she could down the tunnel, retracing her steps to break out of this hellish nightmare turned reality and back into the safety of the open halls of Erebor.

A little more! Mahal please! The queen begged the gods for the chance to escape. She could feel her son's quivering and whimpers, her shirt already wet from his silent sobs as he kept his head tucked into her neck.

"Amad I'm scared! I want adad!" He whispered fiercely. Her heart breaks with every word. "I know ibinê. I'll get us back safely, I promise. But please, don't look up, keep your eyes down!" she begged between each hard breath she took, her lungs burning from running for what seemed to be an eternity. However she saw the familiar light of the main hall, where they entered. Yes!

"Oh no you don't! It’s rude to abandon your guest, your majesty" the cruel voice raked down her back, but she didn't care. She just needed to get Arnel out. At whatever cost.

"MAMA LOOK OUT!" Arnel's shriek broke her concentration as she felt a sharp pain in the back of her thigh. Suddenly the ground came up to her face, instinctively she shielded Arnel with her body as they tumbled forward. Her arms held him close, however her body tumbled further and jostled on the floor, losing her grip on him, he rolled out of her arms and into the hall. Luckily, her training kicked in and she steadied herself and corrected her stance, pulling out her tonfas. Battle ready to defend her son and herself. The advancing Uruk hai halted in their tracks and grinned cruelly.

"Tired your majesty?" They taunted, eliciting a menacing growl from her.

"On the contrary, scum, I have never felt more invigorated." She retorted. Her mind is running a million miles a second. She knew if she left with Arnel, the Uruk hai would follow them into the mountain, truly threatening the lives of innocents. However if she stayed, she and Arnel would never make it…

No… not Arnel. Not him.

Calling to him, she yelled in their secret language.

"Sweetheart, are you ok?" Silence. "Arnel!" She barked. More silence, just as she was about to risk a glance, she heard his little sobs.

"I want adad… Amad I'm scared…" His quiet cries were starting to grow louder as he saw his mother’s leg pierced with a silver dagger, blood dripping and pooling at her heel. Amari took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It wouldn't do anyone any good if they were in hysterics. Without looking at him, she continued talking.

"Arnel, everything will be alright!! I promise, sweetheart...I need you to do something for me. I know you are tired and scared, my love, but I need you to run as fast as you can and get adad-"

"Mama-"

-He is in the room where he meets with the important people. Do you remember where, sweetheart?"

"Mama I don't wanna leave you! I'm scared- "

"I know." By now, Amari's tears fell freely down her face, but she made sure her fear and sadness would not reach her words.

She could see them inching forward, growling and grinning at the prospect of hurting the Queen herself.

"I know you are afraid, ghivashel. I am too my love… but you need to be brave and bring adad here. And then everything will be alright. Can you do that, my brave warrior? C-can you do that for mama?" Arnel sat for a second, processing what she was asking him. She was asking him to leave her… and get help. The prince stood as tall as he could but he kept his eyes on his mother’s back; he could see her shoulders shake- he hesitated. And that was all that the enemy needed.

In that second, a dagger flew to the face prince of Erebor.

------------------------------

"Adad! Look! Troll!" Darna squeaked as she held up the King's notes to his face, obscuring his line of sight to his councilmen. She could feel his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he took the piece from her small chubby hands.

"Hmmm, who is this supposed to be ghivashel?" He inquired, tilting his head to the side as he studied it with such scrutiny, you'd think he was looking to buy it with a whole bag of gold. Darna mirrored her father's expression and stroked her non existent beard.

"Its Unca Dain!" She proclaimed. The King's booming laugh echoed through the room, pausing the meeting and aggravating the council. The dwarf in question strode into the room and stood next to them, looking at the picture, then nodded.

"Not bad lass, I guess you take after yer amad." Placing two glass chalices on the table that glittered and cast beautiful shapes light that captivated the princess. Thorin took them and gave Darna hers before turning his attention back to the meeting, drinking his ale. Darna, looking up in awe at her father as he chugged the liquid down in one go, tried to mimic him and did the same with her milk, only to start coughing. Her coughing fit halted the meeting once again and Thorin gently patted her back.

“It went up my nose adad…” She whined, pushing her glass away. Thorin wiped her tears and milk on his sleeve, staining his royal robes.

“That’s why we do not rush when drinking, men uzbadnâtha.” Taking a handkerchief from his pocket- a parting gift from Bilbo- to clean up her mess. Fili smiled at the sight, never would he have thought that his uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, would be a doting father- wrapped around a little girl’s finger like a ring- then again even he could not be spared from the princess’ charms, nor her brother’s. Kili frowned, as he noted the queen’s empty seat thirty minutes into the meeting.

“Uncle, where is auntie?” He inquired.

“Your auntie took a break to spend time with Arnel, something about exploring.” Thorin, without breaking from his fatherly task, answered. Worried glances were thrown across the table, the silence made him look up. “What?”

Balin cleared his throat and looked nervously at him. “Laddie, there have been some reports of our people going missing in the mountain. I thought you told her?”

“I did, and I assigned Frode to be her guard.” Thorin replied. Dwalin- who had not been paying attention to the meeting- suddenly sat up. “Thorin, Frode has been missing since last night.”

A chill ran down his back as his mind ran a mile a minute thinking of the worst scenarios that could happen to them. Fili and Kili stood, knowing how their uncle’s mind worked, and headed to the door.

“Do not worry uncle. We will look for them and make sure they are safe” Fili reassured.

“Not that she’ll need it- You know how auntie is with her tonfas. Mahal help the assailant! Remember when the assassin at their wedding tried to- ” the dark haired prince’s conversation was cut short by the heavy door being thrown open, banging against the stone walls. The sound startled everyone in the room- Darna nearly fell off her father’s lap. In turn, the King stood- holding his daughter protectively against his chest- and angrily turned to the door.

“What in Durin’s name-” He stopped, staring in horror as the image of his six year old son, blood dripping down his face from a cut, breathlessly gripped the door.

"ADAD! ADAD HELP!" His shrieks echoed in the room as he tried to rush further into the room to the safety of his father, but fell onto the floor, breathless. Fili bent down to catch him as the little prince’s legs gave way. Blood stained the golden dwarf’s hands as he tried to look for other injuries. Gently putting Darna down, Thorin rushed to his son.

“Inùdoy! What happened?! Who did this!” He howled, causing Darna to whimper.

“Adad…” The little girl walked slowly to her brother and father, fearful of her brother’s situation.

“Do not move! Stay there... sweetheart!” He yelled, making her sob softly. Kili saw her distress and went to comfort her. “Uncle please…” But it fell on deaf ears as Thorin tended to Arnel.

The young prince gasped for air as he tried to stand again. Everyone stared in horror at the child prince- disheveled, bleeding.

"AMAD! FIGHTING MONSTERS IN THE GWEAT HALL! ADAD PLEASE SAVE MAMA! MONSTERS COMING!" Arnel gasped as he stood up, only to collapse in on himself. He hated how he looked right now, he needed to be brave. He promised amad. Looking, pleading with his father. Without thinking Thorin ran out the room, flanked by his nephews. The company who attended the meeting raced after him. Except for one; Bofur stopped mid stride, grabbed the prince and placed him in the arms of Balin.

"Keep the lad company, we'll be back.” Bofur ordered before swiveling on his heel and running out the room. The walls rumbled from the heavy footsteps of a Company of dwarves running down the hall. The dwarves’ protective instinct drove them to run to the Queen’s side but Thorin’s mind set on one task: Save his One.

Unbeknownst to him, two pairs of little feet followed the men, just as determined to save their mother, the Queen.

---------------------------

"Hurry up Arny!" Darna squeaked as she tried to keep a safe distance from the group of dwarrows running to their mother's aid. Her brother wheezed as he tried to keep up.

"Darny, I cant… my legs hurt so much! My chest is hurting!" The young prince whined, slowing to a halt and falling on his hands and knees. Darna stopped and worriedly toddled back to her twin. As she got closer, she was finally able to get a good look at him; his hair was sticking up in different directions and his braids, always so neat and in place, were falling out of its plait. What really scared her, however, was his cut; even though she knew it was shallow, the gash would scar and leave him and his family a lasting memory of today. The weight of the danger weighed heavily on the young princess, the reality that she could have lost her beloved brother shook her to her core. Darna kneeled next to him and gently placed her hand on his sweat soaked shoulder.

"Nadad… are you ok?"

Arnel looked at his sister's face but quickly turned away in shame; although young, they were told often that they were the spitting image of their parents- and it wasn't until he looked at his sister's face did he believe them- for he saw their mother's scared face in hers. Arnel looked down in shame.

"Namad… I'm so sorry." He whispered, watching as his tears fell onto the stone floor. Each drop seemed to weigh a ton and echo through the hall. Arnel hated feeling like this; he felt weak. He couldn't protect his mother, he can barely keep up with his sister. "I couldn't help amad." He hiccups as his crying increases. Darna hugged her brother tightly, her own tears cascading down her chubby cheeks. "And she could be dead. Mama… mama she told me to run and get help. I couldn't do anything else." Darna rubbed his back, starting to hiccup herself. "I'm weak, Darny…"

"Nadad, you're not! You're able to get adad! You're hurt, but you still did it! You're so b-brave, brother. I bet even braver unca Dwalin.” Darna pulled back and watched his hunched figure shaking.

“ Were they orcs? Were they like how adad said they were in the stories?” Darna couldn’t help but ask- little did she know the loaded question she’d just asked. A heavy silence descended on the children as memories of the recent events flashed through Arnel’s mind- huge creatures with eyes as dark as night, hands and skin stained red, gnashing mouths with sharpened teeth… their strong and lithe mother taking on the menacing evil with shaking shoulders that he knew she tried to control for his sake. A sudden wave of bravery and adrenaline washed over the young prince. Standing up, he stumbled a bit before Darna could steady him. Looking at his face, she notices the shift in his resolve- looking more like their father during his meetings on topics of war.

“We need to go help mama, Darny.”

“But you’re hurt! We need to go back, I’m sorry I made us leave but-”

“No, you don’t understand namad. Mama is very hurt and we have to help her and adad!” His blue eyes flashing like an ocean storm.

“Will you follow me, sister?” Darna couldn’t help but be moved by his determination. Returning his intense gaze, she nodded.

“Anywhere you go, I’ll follow, brother.” Hand in hand, they ran down the hall to their parents.

---------------------------

The mountain thundered as news of the danger spread like wildfire. Every available dwarrow dropped their task and took arms to defend their home and beloved queen- for although she was no dwarf, let alone from Middle Earth, she had been blessed by their Maker to bring hope and happiness to her people. She cared for them as though they were her kin. Amari could feel a shift in the air, as though someone opened a window to let fresh air into a stuffy room, but she could not be distracted- not when she was fighting for her life.

Left. Right. Parry. Dodge. Repeat.

Is Arnel alright…

Please hurry Thorin! Fucking King under the mountain my ass! I always have to clean up the mess here!

Amari’s mind jumped from indignation, anger, annoyance, worry, then ran her mind back to her training as she took on a mini legion of Uruk hai. Her tonfas cutting a path slowly but surely through her enemy. Her mind set on making sure none would make it through the threshold of her home- she is Queen under the Mountain, born in a modern world, a mother to two blessings of Mahal, wife of Thorin Oakenshield- if she could not defend her home and family, then the burden would fall on others and she would have failed. So lost in thought, she failed to register a pair of assailants and landed deep wounds on her back, raking down from shoulder to hips. Her pained scream echoed through the hall, suddenly she felt cold air hit her bare back as the uneasy feeling of warm scarlet liquid trickled down. Nonetheless, she persisted. Pushing back even harder, one by one they fell to her attacks until there were only two.

“Tired your majesty? You seem to have left quite a mess in your wake.” One of the beasts taunted. Her enemy cracked his whip dangerously close to her. Dodging it, she failed to realize the feint and dove straight into the path of his waiting ally. Amari stared in horror at her mistake and did her best to regain her footing to dodge once again, but was ultimately unsuccessful. The uruk hai brought down his blade across her torso, slicing her chest open. At first, Amari thought it was the end, but upon second thought she realized her three doublet undergarments saved her life.

Thank freaking Mahal! I knew it was a good idea to wear these!

Taking advantage of her enemy’s false victory, she took her tonfas and cut his head off, watching as it rolled to the side. Breathless, she turned to the last one standing- his face bared the anger and hatred that was unleashed upon her new world.

“Tired already?” She taunted, throwing his words back at him. The queen slowly slunk into a dangerous prowel. She exuded grace and ferocity, elegance and power. No longer was she prey, she was the predator. This was her territory and he was her victim. Quick as lightning, Amari lunged. Her eyes set for her target, no hesitation. One slice was all it took for her to incapacitate the beast. The uruk hai was wailing in pain on the ground helpless, however she did not kill him- one thing Dwalin taught her was to always keep one alive for questioning. As the monster lay on the ground bleeding, his wails subsided to malicious cackling. Amari’s fury flared again.

“What’s so funny? Does death seem like a joke to you?” She grit through clenched teeth as she painfully approached the helpless form- every step like a burning wave through her body. Her injuries finally catching up with her as the adrenaline subsided. She knew she had a little over an hour to get help before it would be fatal. The uruk hai seemed to know this too, noting her pale face and scarlet pool gathering at her feet.

“You don’t look too well, your majesty” he taunted, another cackle followed by a coughing fit echoed through the hall. “I suppose there is some prize to this whole ordeal. If I am going down, I made sure you are coming down with me, foreign queen.” With every word spoken from the vile creature’s mouth, Amari’s blood boiled another degree. “It’s just a shame we couldn’t take the half-breed down. But we will. And your husband will be none the wiser.”

“Wanna bet.” a booming baritone voice echoed down the hall as the dwarf King descended on the evil creature- maiming him with his bare hands. After a moment, a group of dwarves pulled the king back.

“Let me go! That scum deserves to die!” Thorin roared as he fought off his kin. Dwalin pulled him back, fury raging in his eyes.

“Thorin, I know. But we need to interrogate him for information. You know this.” Dwalin growled so low, it surprised even himself. Shoving off the hands pulling him back, Thorin had no choice but to agree. Nodding, he turned to his friend. “Make sure he suffers.”

A thud to his right brought his attention to Amari, laying on her side, facing them. Thorin’s blood ran cold as he swiftly gathered his beloved carefully into his arms. He noticed the gash on her torso but felt the wounds on her back to know that those were the worst.

“Amralime, I am here. You’ll be alright.” He softly reassured his queen. Amari’s eyes started to close, worrying the King. “SOMEBODY BRING A HEALER HERE NOW!” Thorin ordered. “Look at me, Amari. Keep those eyes open…” He begged. “You cannot leave us, my love… you cannot leave ME.” He shook her gently, making sure that she stayed awake. Amari fought with every ounce of strength she had to keep her eyes open, not because she knew she was going to be alright. But to make sure to burn into her memory the face of her most beloved. If this was to be last view, she was glad it was her husband. The thought calmed her enough to smile. Reaching up, she pushed his hair behind his ear, before caressing his cheek.

“If you keep frowning, you’ll get wrinkles, your majesty,” she teased. Even in her weakest moments, she lived to see her loved ones smile. Managing to pull a brief and soft chuckle from the distraught king.

“Thorin, Frode… he’s dead. He- in the tunnel. The Uruk hai-”

“Shhhhh. Ghivashel, please. We can look into this later but right now, we need to get you to Oin.” Thorin began to pull her up, only to stumble when she yelped in pain. His knees buckled at her pained voice

"It hurts so much, love" Amari whispered. Every word is a knife to her husband's heart.

"I know, my love I know." Thorin kissed her forehead and brought her closer, ignoring the warm wetness staining his sleeve. "But Oin will be here, and you'll be fine. Everything will be fine, ghivashel so please…" the king's voice broke. Trying to keep face, he took a deep, shaky breath. Amari could see his resolve break. She'd only ever seen her King let his walls down in their chambers. Her heart broke at the first tear that fell from his ocean blue eyes. Amari wiped it away, smiling.

"Don't cry, my love." Thorin leaned into her touch, "Oh Amari..." Another tear. "Please, just a little while longer, ibinê. Talk to me, my love… Don't leave me." Thorin begged, and he didn't care. He didn't care that his royal garment was being stained red. He didn't care that his eyes watered his lover's face with tears. He didn't give a damn when his body shook with grief and he whispered soft prayers to his Maker to save his One.

"My love, our people are here… you need to be strong.” She whispered, gently stroking his bearded cheek. Thorin in turn leaned into her touch. “If not for me, kurduwe, then stay strong for Darna and Arnel.” The names of their children brought a minute wave of strength.

“Arnel…” Amari gripped his coat tightly. “Did he-”

“Mama?” two tiny soft voices rang through the halls, like bells in a steeple.

----------------------

It was my fault.

Arnel looked at the small figure in their father’s arms. Frozen in place, as Darna sprinted to them.

“MAMA! MAMA! DON’T GO! DON’T LEAVE ME PLEASE!” Falling on her knees and vigorously shaking her mother’s arm. Amari turned her head and moved her hand to caress her daughter’s face.

“Darling, I didn’t pick your clothes today but you look so pretty.” Amari noted, smiling warmly. She was determined to make sure that she showed no pain or sadness to her cherished treasures.

Darna looked down, a tiny flicker of pride flashed within. She always worked hard to get praises from her parents, even for the smallest task like closing the door to keep the draft out. She smiled and tugged on her garments.

“I… I picked it myself, amad...But I don’t- I don’t wanna pick my clothes anymore, so- so you have to pick them for me forever, amad. And you promised we would go out again next time, and you said princess and queens don’t break promises.” The princess of Erebor weeps as she wraps her little pinky finger around her mother’s pinky, her fragile voice breaking every heart in the hall. “Mama you promised- you pinky swore.” She whispers, giving up and curling into her side. The whole time, Thorin tries to keep his tears at bay, keeping a mask of hopefulness and stoicness but failing as each tear drop trails down his aged face, the facade is breaking. Amari chuckles

“I did, didn’t I…” Frowning, she moves her head slightly- hissing.

“Amari.”

“Mama no…”

“Where’s your brother?” Arnel, still as a statue, flinches. Thorin’s blue gaze reaches his own. Arnel has never seen his father so broken- he always saw him like the statues of his forefathers: grand, big, immovable, majestic. But here… Arnel saw a scared and heart broken dwarf.

“Come, inùdoy.” To the ears of those around, it sounded just like any command the dwarven king would give. To the ears of his closest friends and family… it was the plea of a broken husband. Slowly, the young prince walked to his family. The hall was silent except for the sound of his little shuffling feet and the quiet whimpers of their kin. When Arnel reaches his mother’s side, he breaks. Falling to his knees, he places his head tucked in his arms on her belly, weeps heavy tears and wails. The cry shakes the halls that even the mountain itself seems to weep with the prince, not soon after the wails of his sister follows, amplifying the pain of the inevitable possibility that the Lonely Mountain could lose a queen, that a husband could lose his wife, that two little children could lose their mother.

“I’m sorry… amad, I'm so sorry…” a hiccup. “I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve fought with you. I should’ve protected you.” Arnel grips his mother’s clothing. “I promise I’ll get stronger but- but you have to help me, amad...I don’t wanna be weak anymore. So promise you will help me mama… A queen keeps her promises- so you have to mama!” The prince raises his little finger and wraps it around his mother’s finger. Amari is quiet. She knows what they’re doing, trying to buy time for her. As much as they can.

Little rascals. She smiles.

“Mama…” Darna pulls her attention back to them. A soft chuckle escapes her. Thorin can see she's trying- holding on as long as she can. But even she has limits, just as he does, and right now his heart is pushing past its own to make sure to be strong for their children.

“I promise sweetheart. When I’m… better, we can train together. After, your sister and I go to Dale. Do we have a deal, my lovelies?” She shifts so that now she is leaning on her husband's strong arms- trembling arms. Not from tiredness of holding the weight of his family- Mahal knows he will hold that weight forever in his arms if could. No, they trembled from sadness and fear. Amari gathers her son and daughter in her arms, inwardly wincing at the pain, but Thorin feels her flinch.

“Kurduwe, don’t overexert yourself.” He warns, readjusting his hold. Amari ignores his warning and starts to sway a little.

“My loves, I will be fine… I did say I will be with you, no?” She asks playfully, the two whimpers and grip their mother’s clothing, placing their head onto her torso- ignoring the moist feeling on their cheeks that they know aren't their tears. Thorin embraces his queen tightly and sways along with her, he turns his head and pushes his nose into her hair- inhaling her scent. Turning to the group, he sees the Company in tears, all their heads slightly bowed, giving the family the privacy they need. Only Balin is holding his head high- taking in the sight of the Queen Under the Mountain caring for her husband and children, and sending fervent silent prayers to Mahal, to Manwe, to any of the Valar to hear the plea of an old dwarf to save this woman beloved by dwarf, man, and elf.

Amari hums a quiet lullaby that calms the room, Arnel and Darna’s cries have quieted and only the uneven breathing of sorrowed children escapes their mouths. Minutes go by and they yawn.

“Sleep my darlings.” Amari whispers, her voice weak and light. The twins shake their heads, they do not want to lose a second without their mother.

“M’not sleepy.”

“Me too.”

Another yawn spills from them. Darna’s eyelids begin to droop as her mother strokes her hair

“How about a lullaby then?” Amari moves so both children are safe within her and their father’s arms.

“Don’t wanna sleep… Don’t wanna lose you mama.” Arnel whimpers, another bout of crying threatening to envelop him. At that comment, Darna’s little chubby hands grip Amari's clothing.

“You won’t lose me, sweetheart. I’ll be here, I promise.” Thorin exhales sharply, his heart breaks at her promise; he knows that even though she is answering their son, she is also reassuring him.

“Promise, you’ll be here when we wake up…?” Darna asks, her eyes closed and Arnel close to follow.

Silence.

“I promise, I will be with you when you wake…” Thorin grips his wife tighter- the implication heavy on his heart.

“Adad you too? You’ll be here too?” Arnel asks sleepily. Thorin nods.

“Yes, ibine, I will always be here with you.” A promise verbally etches into the walls of his mountain. I will always be with you. I promise. Amari sniffles, moving so her hand is cradling Arnel, and the other arm moves and caresses the back of Thorin’s neck to bring his forehead to her’s.

“I promise, I will be here when you wake.” She promises again to her king. Closing their eyes, Amari sings.

“A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain

Softly blows over Lullaby Bay,

It fills the sails of boats that are waiting,

Waiting to sail your worries away.

It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain,

And your boat waits down by the quay.

The winds of night sdo softly are sighing,

Soon they will fly your troubles to sea.

So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain,

Wave goodbye to cares of the day,

And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain

Sail far away from Lullaby Bay.”

A heavy silence falls. Thorin opens his eyes and sees his children softly snoring, looking up he looks at his queen.

“Amari..” he shakes her gently. “Amari!” His voice makes Darna shift.

“Mama…” she whispers in her sleep. Arnel is gripping his mother’s ripped tunic tightly in one hand, while his other is to his face as he is sucking his thumb in comfort. Amari doesn’t move, nor does she open her eyes, her breathing is shallow and weak, her face pale, but her grasp on their children does not falter or weaken.

“Mahal please…” Thorin begs. “Anything, please… just save her.” The king quietly sobs into his lover’s hair. He opens his deep blue eyes and pleads to the surrounding dwarrows. In the distance, he sees two tall men walking toward the group quickly. The crowd parts and rushing to their side, Gandalf the Grey and Thranduil, king of Mirkwood, urgently looks at the queen.

“Thranduil, take the twins. I need to look at Amari.” Gandalf orders, immediately, the elven king reaches out to the children. Thorin growls and pulls his family closer to his chest, his eyes glaring at the elf. The wizard heaved an exasperated sigh at the gesture.

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves! Thorin if you do not give them to Thranduil, I cannot see Amari, and she will die.” Begrudgingly, he loosens his grip and Thranduil carefully cradles the small bundles in his arms- a peaceful tenderness befalls the face of the elven king, reminiscent of when his own son was at this tender age.

Gandalf’s hand hovers over the small frame of the queen, when he comes back to her face, he whisper’s a spell. Thorin watches the mage with bated breath, praying that he can save his beloved. After the incantation, Amari gasps a heavy breath, but her eyes stay close. Thorin had witnessed his life saving magic, he himself experienced it during the quest for his home, but never had he seen the victim not open their eyes. He started to panic again.

“Gandalf-”

“She needs urgent help. Thranduil-”

“Say no more, Mithrandir.” The elvish king gently deposits the twins into the gray wizard’s arms. Then tenderly, he lifts the wounded queen into his arms and without another word, turns on his heel and strides to the healer’s wing. Thorin is just about to protest when Gandalf gently places Arnel and Darna’s sleeping forms into his arms- he notes the huge change of weight in his grasps and begins to show distress.

“Thranduil is gifted with healing- you know this. If anyone can save your queen, it will be the King of Mirkwood.”

“But-”

“Stay with your children, Thorin. They need you more than ever now.” The wizard’s eyes fall on the sleeping pair and he gently touches their head, whispering another spell. Thorin looks at him questioningly.

“To sleep soundly and peacefully, for they deserve happy dreams away from this living nightmare.” With that, Gandalf hastens out the hall, towards the halls of healing, joining Thranduil.

Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, the quiet calm was thick with the smell of blood, and sorrow as the King Under the Mountain, held his slumbering precious treasures, staring helplessly at the direction that his beloved was taken, tears endlessly streaming down into his beard as his closest friends and family reassure him of her safety, but even they are unsure. Thorin exhales a breath he did not realize he was holding and sends another endless plea to the gods.

Mahal please… Keep my One safe.... Amari, come back to me, to us...I promise I will wait for you.

To be continued?

Taglist: @cassiabaggins @guardianofrivendell @elles-writing @lathalea (thank you so so much for reading and double checking me :) )

Thank you for hyping me up! :D @luna-xial @fizzyxcustard @tschrist1

#thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield #angst #uruk hai #the hobbit #tolkien #im sorry #first fic #thorin x reader #thorin's company

98 notes · View notes