#nobody knew that he'd said those things except me and a few others who were there

[shion-yu]

I Still Think Of You

Whatever proceeded or followed this moment was worth it, if only just to hear Elliot's voice one more time. Cliff and Elliot reconnect nearly three years after their breakup. A complete rewrite of an older story that I wasn't content with and deleted. Also my fill for my @badthingshappenbingo space "I Will Only Slow You Down." 2,351 words, original writing, no TWs, CW depression, chronic illness whump.

The song hit Cliff like a stray bolt of lightning. He was sitting in the outpatient infusion center getting his monthly infliximab when it came on the regional variety station.

Sometimes I'm driving 

Down ninety-five in your car

I imagine it still smells like you

But that was so long ago

And you're gone

Like dust in the wind

Like the tide pulled you in

Like you're never coming back

To me again

To whisper in my ear

"You're my whole life"

And I'm yours

I'm still yours

It was Elliot. The voice was unmistakably Elliot's because nobody else's voice sounded like that: that perfect mix of confident yet wavering and gentle. Cliff knew it immediately because it was the voice that he fell in love with. He also realized quite quickly that the song was about him. All those other love songs that Elliot had written could be excused away as generic, the classic ballad about a faceless lover. Maybe a few coincidences, but never anything like this one that pulled so directly from the time that he and Elliot spent together. 

Cliff had told Elliot so many times: "You're my whole life." At first it seemed romantic. Later it seemed possessive. "I can't be your whole life, not all of it," Elliot had told him the day they broke up. "You need to keep some for you, too."

Cliff wished he had understood what Elliot meant by that back then. Maybe if he had, things would have turned out different. Maybe Cliff would have been more honest, braver. But they were victims of the age old cliche: you can't love another person until you love yourself. It hadn't just been Cliff though. Neither of them had loved themselves, they'd only loved each other. They'd relied on each other too much before the other was ready to carry the burden of another.

That was almost three years ago. A lot had changed since then. Cliff was diagnosed with sarcoidosis. He started law school and then made the difficult decision not to return after the first year. He dated Phoenix, who broke up with him when he dropped out. He never loved Phoenix though. Cliff wasn’t even sure if he ever even really liked him. It was just another poor attempt at hoping that if he pretended to be someone he wasn't, he'd stop being the real, pathetic version of himself that actually existed.

Cliff had been trying to ignore Elliot's steep rise to fame for a while now for his own self-preservation, but after I Still Think Of You hit the billboard 100 it became impossible. Elliot was everywhere: on talk shows and TV performances and magazine covers. The other half of his act, some guy named Alex, always hovered behind him providing bass and backup vocals. Cliff thought he looked like a little kid. He rarely smiled, as opposed to Elliot who couldn’t stop except for when he was crooning so passionately into the microphone that it gave Cliff chills to see. Everyone seemed to think Elliot's permanant smile when speaking was adorable, but Cliff knew it was just a nervous habit.

He watched Elliot sing his heart out on a YouTube clip of Good Morning America. Elliot was always incredibly talented, but his voice had gotten much better with age and confidence. He owned every word and his presence was immense. The announcer described him as a prodigy, but Cliff disagreed. He knew Elliot worked his ass off to get to that point, it didn't just come naturally. But Elliot laughed and thanked everybody profusely. It sounded like the audience was mostly girls based on the squealing every time Elliot said something sweet. Elliot had never denied his sexuality in interviews, but it seemed that didn’t matter.

Cliff didn’t know why he did it. Maybe because he thought there was no way Elliot wouldn't have changed his number by now and even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t answer Cliff right? Maybe it was because he was lonely and figured he didn't have anything to lose. Or maybe it was because he thought he might die before he ever had a chance to address his single most burning regret in life. Nobody said he was dying, but Cliff wasn't sure. He didn’t leave the house anymore, too sick to have the energy and too self-conscious about his inability to control himself to try. He couldn’t get farther than the length of his apartment without his crutches and he couldn’t skip the oxygen if he wanted to walk further than a single block without his lips turning blue. It felt pitiful, and he spent many nights thinking that if someone offered him a magic pill that would let him never wake up again, he'd take it. 

The text was tapped out, deleted, then rewritten and sent before Cliff could change his mind again.

'I still think of you too.'

He told himself not to wait for a response. Even if Elliot did receive the text, he might not respond. It had been three years since they'd talked after all. Three very long years in which both of them had undergone a tremendous amount of change. Elliot was now successful and brilliant, shining for the world to see like Cliff always knew he would. And Cliff… He was the opposite. He was dull and empty. He had nothing left but a broken body and the bones of all the things he'd ruined over the years. Elliot shouldn't talk to him anyways, Cliff thought to himself - he’d only bring Elliot down. 

Cliff nearly dropped his phone when it rang almost immediately after he pushed send. It was Elliot. Cliff answered in shock. "Hello?"

"Cliff!"

And that was it. Whatever proceeded or followed this moment was worth it, if only just to hear Elliot's voice one more time. 

"Yeah, it's me."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cliff was sitting in Barney's waiting for Elliot to show up. It was their old stomping grounds, the café that they used to visit during late night study sessions when they went to NYU. Elliot asked him to sit in the back, presumably so he could avoid being recognized by any fans while he met with Cliff. Cliff thought maybe if Elliot knew what he looked like now, he wouldn't have even taken that chance.

Cliff tried to clean up nicely, but he was so pale now from a mix of illness and never leaving the house. He wore his oxygen to get here, but he arrived early so he’d have time to catch his breath and hopefully get away with stashing it in his bag while they talked. His crutches weren't something he could hide though, and neither was how thin and brittle his hair was from the methotrexate (although at least it hadn’t fallen out). He was starting to decide this was a terrible idea, that he ought to just go home before Elliot ever had the chance to arrive, but then suddenly Elliot was standing right there in front of the table - in front of Cliff - and it was too late to turn back.

Elliot looked older. More mature. His dark curls were shorter and tamer than they ever were when they dated. “Hi Cliff,” Elliot said with a nervous smile. 

Cliff thought he looked incredible. He wondered if he should stand and give Elliot a hug, Elliot always was a hugger. But instead he just smiled back and motioned for Elliot to sit. “Hello Elliot,” he replied, equally as nervous. Elliot took off his black leather jacket that fit him astonishingly well and hung it on the back of his chair before sitting.

“So,” Elliot said. “It’s been… what, two years?” Almost three, Cliff thought to himself as he nodded in agreement. Surely Elliot had to know it'd almost been three years since Cliff messed what they had up so immeasurably. "Wow."

"Wow," Cliff repeated. "You look great, by the way."

Elliot's flustered face made Cliff worry he'd already messed up. But Elliot just said, "Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself." Cliff was sure that was a lie. "How have you been? I heard you got diagnosed with an autoimmune disease."

Cliff wondered where the hell Elliot possibly heard that. Then again, they had still gone to the same school for their final year of undergrad even if they hadn't been dating anymore. Their majors had no crossover at all though, and any friends they'd shared had obviously ended up staying friends with Elliot, not Cliff. 

"Yeah," Cliff confirmed uncomfortably. "Sarcoidosis." So awkward.

"I'm sorry," Elliot said.

"Sorry for what?" Cliff said.

Elliot rubbed his hands together, glancing down. "Well, I never called after I heard you got sick. That wasn't very nice of me. I wanted to, but we were... You know."

"Yeah. I know," Cliff said. This is so not how he'd hoped this meeting would go, although he had tried not to have any expectations at all about it. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. Tell me about you."

"Me?" Elliot asked with such innocence that Cliff had to laugh. He barely ever laughed this days, but he couldn't help it.

"Yes you," Cliff said. "Like you're not totally famous now."

Elliot blushed and looked flustered. "Stop, I'm not that famous," he said quickly. "I mean I've been so lucky and so fortunate but, famous is a little..."

"Sure," Cliff smiled. "Okay. Successful. You're so successful now. You really earned it."

"Really? Thanks, Cliff," Elliot said, smiling back. "It means a lot to hear you say that."

It was Cliff's turn to be surprised. He wasn't sure why Elliot would value his opinion much. He cleared his throat, coughing a little. "Well, yeah, of course."

They were silent for several awkward beats until Cliff interrupted it by coughing again. Was sitting at a table in a coffee shop seriously too much for him, he thought in annoyance? But it was also the first time he'd left the house for anything but a doctor's appointment in... Weeks? Surely not months. 

"Do you have a cold?" Elliot asked worriedly. 

Shit, five minutes reunited and Cliff was already making Elliot worry again? Cliff had to get the situation under control. He shook his head, pulling a napkin from the dispenser on the table and covering his mouth with it while he continued to cough. He could feel his lungs twitching, protesting in annoyance that they weren't being treated like the main attraction as usual. Cliff closed his eyes and tried to pretend Elliot wasn't right across from him for a second while he weighed his options. He ultimately decided it was less embarassing to wear oxygen than have a full on asthma attack right in front of everyone. "Sorry," Cliff said hoarsely. "Don't think that... I just don't want you to worry."

Elliot looked confused until Cliff pulled his oxygen tubing from the bag slung across the back of his chair and looped it over his ears. "Oh," Elliot said softly. Cliff couldn't read his expression. Pity? Disappointment? "Cliff, you didn't have to not wear that for my sake. I know it's... Things are different now." 

Cliff took several deep breaths through his nose, trying to control his cough. He could feel his head getting a little clearer. "I'm not saying you should care," Cliff said when he caught his breath. "I'm not saying I deserve you to. But I don't want you to think I'm not trying. I am."

Elliot nodded as if he understood. His face was so tender, so gentle and delicate... Cliff pushed away the desire to reach out and brush Elliot's cheek with his fingers. "Like I said. Things are different." 

Cliff relaxed a little, his shoulders falling from their tense position. He rested his chin in his hands and said, "Thank you."

The long minute of silence that followed was still awkward, but not as awkward as the first one. Elliot shifted in his chair and said, "Why did you text me?"

"What?" Cliff asked, startled. 

"You must have had something in mind. After all this time. Why'd you text me?" 

Cliff had asked himself that a million times in the week since he'd sent that message. At first he really didn't know, but now he realized two things. One, his life without Elliot had never been as happy as when Elliot was in it. And two, if he wanted Elliot back in his life, he had to be honest, not like the first time. So, he was honest. "I just missed you." 

"Oh," Elliot said. Cliff half expected him to run away, slap a hand on the table and say he knew Cliff hadn't changed. But instead he smiled shyly and said, "I missed you too."

Now they both looked surprised and a little embarrassed. Cliff had wondered for years what it would be like if he ever saw Elliot in person again. He'd at times wanted to apologize, beg for their relationship back, to convince Elliot he'd changed. But as time went on, he'd gotten more tired. He was still that anxious, guilty person he was before, but he'd had the time to think about what had gone wrong and learned to appreciate what had gone right. Elliot had agreed to meet him, and this was his chance to do things right this time. Even if it was never the same and Elliot wasn't his, Cliff's main desire was to make it up to him now. 

"I was wondering if I could text you sometimes," Cliff said. "I know you're really busy. Just, talk to you every once and a while."

"You mean like friends?" Elliot asked.

Cliff nodded. "Yeah. Like friends." 

He waited for the answer feeling like this was judgement day. There was no other question he was dying to know the answer to more. He only had to wait a second.

"Okay," Elliot said. "I'd like that. Friends." God, that nervous smile, Cliff thought to himself as he melted in relief. No wonder all those teen girls fell in love so quickly.

#shionwrites #oc: cliff #oc: elliot #sickfic #whump #bad things happen bingo #I will only slow you down #chronic illness whump #angst with a happy ending #hurt comfort #male whump #emotional whump

[average-giant-kissing-enjoyer]

G/t July #19: Trickster

"Welcome, Mr. Nilsson. You may open your eyes now."

Giles Nilsson blinked deliriously at the sudden bright light and the sterile white of this holding cell. He was seated in a chair, a white chair, at a table which was also white, and he wore a pitch black suit that he knew he didn't own. Across from him sat a stranger in white, the man who had addressed him a moment ago. This had to be some kind of weird dream. How did he get here?

"You may be wondering where you are right now," said the stranger in a calming baritone. "Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to say. Anyway it doesn't matter. You are here because I have a choice to present to you. Once you have made this choice, you are free to go."

The stranger pulled out a small black box and placed it on the center of the table. On the top of the box was an enormous round red button.

Nilsson perked up suddenly. "Hold on, I know this one. It's one of those sadistic choices where I have to push the button or die. Who are you again?"

"Ah, I forgot to introduce myself," said the stranger. "I am Loki."

"Uh, like the norse god?"

"Exactly," he said. "I am he."

"You're a god."

Loki nodded. "Yes. The gods are real. All of them. All of them except for Set."

Nilsson was sure he was being pranked. "Wait, why Set?"

"It's obvious," Loki replied. "I don't think I need to explain it."

"But all the other Egyptian gods are real?" Nilsson asked.

The god rolled his eyes. "It feels like we're straying from the topic a little. Mr. Nilsson, I have brought you here as I have brought many others because there is a choice you need to make - a choice that will determine the course of the rest of your life."

"But all choices determine the course of the rest of my life," said Nilsson.

"Shut up. Wouldn't you like to know the choice?"

Nilsson thought for a long moment and then nodded. "But if you're going to offer me money on the condition I kill people or something then the answer is no."

That answer seemed to please Loki, who smiled slyly. "Nothing quite so obvious. See, you humans are always so concerned with morality and feelings. Far too few of you are easily tempted to murder, even for millions of dollars."

"Then what happens when I press the button?"

"Patience, Mr. Nilsson," Loki said, waving one hand casually in the air. "If you press the button, you will be shrunk. And - "

Tap. Giles Nilsson had already pressed the button.

Loki paused with his hand still in the air. "What are you doing?"

Nilsson shrugged. "You said the terms. I pushed the button. Can I go now?"

"I don't think you understand, young man," said Loki, a look of confusion crossing his face. "If you press the button, you will be shrunk a little. For real. I am going to take inches off your height. I am a god and I can do that."

"Neat," said Nilsson, pressing the button again. Tap.

"Stop that! I haven't even explained the other part of your sadistic choice."

Nilsson froze. Somehow he had forgotten that. What if someone had to die because of him? He'd pressed it twice! Were two people already dead? "Oh god, what's the bad thing that happens?" he said, his voice flat.

"That is the bad thing!" Loki growled, grabbing at his hair in frustration. "I'm going to shrink you, but…"

Tap.

"Mr. Nilsson, I don't think you understand. Your choices are cumulative. For every time you press the button, I shrink you more."

Tap.

Loki yanked the box back out of his reach. "Okay, you have to wait until I finish talking. For every time you press the button, I take an inch of your height in exchange for cash. The more you press, the smaller you get, but the more money you make. The pot starts at 1 dollar and doubles every time you hit the button."

"But then I shrink," said Nilsson.

"Then you shrink," Loki repeated.

"Okay, so what's the limit? How many times can I push the button?"

The god looked genuinely unsure. "Nobody's ever pressed it more than… wait, that's none of your business."

Nilsson took advantage of his brief confusion to reach across the table and wrest the box out of his grip. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. "Why isn't this thing working? I haven't shrunk at all!" Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Just as quickly, Loki grabbed the box right back. "You get shrunk all at once at the end of this. I don't think you realize. This is permanent. You'll be tiny forever!"

"Give me that!" Nilsson cried, diving over the table and tackling Loki to the ground. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Well I hope you like being a little guy!" Loki roared. "I lied about the money! I am the trickster god. You've fallen into my trap! You are - "

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Loki pushed Nilsson off him and stood, while the man kept tapping the button. "That's it, I quit. Humans are weird. You're sick. I'm done trying to trick you people. STOP PRESSING THAT BUTTON"

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #agke microfic #sfw gt #g/t july

[septembersghost]

jimmy sitting disheartened and all alone at the courthouse would be his day, every day, if he didn't indulge in ugly excess and fill every nook and cranny of saul's existence with continual noise and color and too loud advertisements and paid companionship and a bluetooth immediately in his ear. there's a piano in the mansion that never gets played, he can't explain why he even bought it, jokes it adds class. putting a tombstone in the middle of the room would be too unsubtle, not that he's aiming for subtlety. he avoids going down to court when possible, avoids interacting with the legal community in general, and they have a particular ire towards him when he does. they are not his colleagues, they are his adversaries.

suzanne called him a scumbag and there was only one person in the world who'd defend him against that accusation, and she's gone. when kim wexler left, the ada said, good for her, aloud to everyone in the vicinity, but then they all talked about what a shame it was to lose such a fine lawyer. it had to be the hamlin thing right? a few people whisper, maybe, in her time at HHM, she and howard were closer than they seemed, didn't you know the firm paid for her law school, there's another piece of the HHM legacy ruined forever, but those rumors are shut down quickly. first with, no, he wasn't like that. it's still hard to believe he could ever... and then with, no way, she was devoted to mcgill. she defended him at the hearing against his own brother, remember? that was the beginning of the firm's problems. even, i heard she accused howard of nepotism. then other details, she quit s&c abruptly, that was probably his fault. he did the same thing in santa fe. never made sense what she saw in him. or, she seemed to get fixated on wanting to help people, think it was guilt because she knew what he was becoming? or, she finally woke up, guess she was disgusted by what he was becoming. imagine having to live with him. or, why would a woman like that ever marry him? she disbarred herself! he totally tanked her life. or...?

discussions of james mcgill begin to treat him like he's dead, though no one quite realizes they're doing it. it wasn't that he'd been a bad lawyer, he was smart, he could be a really nice guy, but he was always wheeling and dealing. hard to know what was real until he showed it with that de guzman thing. maybe that was why she disappeared.

none of these discussions are had in front of saul because saul is never approached like a human being, but he still knows they have them. he's an annoyance, an aggravation, self-aggrandizing, tenacious. he succeeds with his cases, often. at a cost. they have to deal with his screeching commercials and his clashing suits, it is impossible to avoid this man in albuquerque, he rises to mini-celebrity status through sheer obnoxiousness alone, never letting anyone forget he exists. i'll fight for you. nobody knows what he's even fighting for - glory? money? respect is out of the question. they never see anything genuine from him except his desire to win.

he will not sit alone at the table. whatever, it doesn't matter who's there with him, but he's not pathetic. he's great. hell, he's untouchable. you've never mattered all that much to me...but so what? this is easier. no more pretending, no more attempts to play it straight, no one else to try and change for. he's a cathedral of justice with foam columns. they can't take him down. he beats them to it.

#IDK WHAT THIS IS #i'm upset #jimmy mcgill #saul goodman #kim wexler #better call saul #bcs spoilers #* #btw the rumors and commentary are dedicated to people who don't get this show lol

[written-in-my-pages]

Scrapped chapter!

I have a chapter that was supposed to be chapter 14, but I didn't like it and want to share it for everyone else to enjoy as just a little side-thing! Content warnings: panic attacks, cussing. if theres one i missed please lmk Characters mentioned: Dazai, Chuuya, Arahabaki, Mori

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Of all the places Chuuya has woken up in, he never expected one to be in water. He immediately panics and tries to swim to the surface, only to find out--he can breathe? No, this isn't right. Why can he breathe?

Theres no sight of Arahabaki near--even then, his gravity manipulation dosen't work underwater.

"What the fuck?!" He exclaims out loud, before he swims forward and thunks into a glass chamber. Oh, no.

No. no, no,

no, is he back in the lab?

No.

He can't be. It blew up, theres no way--

"Goodness gracious," A voice cuts into Chuuya's thoughts and a smiling Dazai Osamu walks into his feild of view. "Who knew you fish-folk were so. . .rude?" Dazai smiles softly, and Chuuya chokes on the water despite how he's able to breathe perfectly fine. fish-folk?!?

Chuuya looks around the large water tank, eyes widening as he notices a scarlet red fish-like tail with spikes flowing in the water behind him, yet he has legs. He's certainly not a mermaid, so maybe 'fish-folk' would be better terms. His tail holds various white markings, which look like spirals and eyes in certain areas, and as he looks at his arms and thighs, he has scattered scales across those, too. They aren't fully coated in scales, but in the areas that there are scales theres markings on those, too.

"rude?!" Chuuya snaps, looking at Dazai as what he said fully processes. "Oh, says you, i'm trapped in a tank!" Chuuya yells angrily, and Dazai simply frowns.

"You have to stay in there, i apologize deeply." Dazai mumbles, watching Chuuya. "However," He starts, and Chuuya visibly perks up, tail swaying slower amidst the water in the tank.

"I can talk to the man in charge and see if we could allow you out." Dazai pauses. "That is, if you dont end up suffocating from lack of oxygen."

Chuuya seethes, eager to just get out. He feels too trapped, and it reminds him of certain white walls and floors, reminds him of a certain blonde-haired french man, reminds him of a machine wiith tubes connected on it which host a god. Everything he can see in this place besides the tank he's in, reminds him of times he'd much rather forget. A time filled with a numbness Chuuya could never begin to describe in words.

"I dont care if i suffocate. Just let me out." free me, a eight year old voice begs in the back of Chuuya's head let me go home.

"Hmh." Dazai huffs before he walks off, leaving Chuuya with his thoughts, his memories. Everything Chuuya hates about his past surfaces. And he hates it.

Dazai never cared much for all life that was living--especially not humans. He himself wasn't human, so he looked down upon mankind. It was simple, yet oh so complicated. No matter what Universe he lives in, no matter what paralel version of him existed, no matter who he ends up sticking by, he looked down upon. His subordinates in any Universe, his higher-ups, anybody who even so as smiled at him will get a hostile glare in their direction.

Why he was like this, nobody except he and few other people knew.

But, currently, where he stands in front of a ravenette man with fierce blood-colored eyes whom holds the name of death like its a crown, he wishes he could pound his head into the concrete.

Mori Ougai isn't a good person. Dazai knows he never will be, no matter where he goes, what life he leads.

"You are telling me," Mori sighs, leaning backwards in his chair, eyeing Dazai calmly in a way that makes his skin crawl. "You wish to let a possible threat to our facility out?"

"Yes." He says, tone harsh and snappy. He dosen't want to be here, in a room with a man that has done horrible things--such as mutating a large sea beast which lay unmoving in a massive tank, down in the basement of the facility.

"Tch." Mori scoffs, yet Dazai can tell he's thinking about saying no. Truly, if he says no to this, Dazai will just let the sea creature out himself. He saw the look of pain on the creatures face, the way his body stilled at the word of freedom.

"Fine. But it has a limited amount of time out, and you are to use anesthetics if it tries to leave--or kill it." Mori says finally, and Dazai huffs, not at all amused at such words.

With a destination in mind, Dazai leaves the room with no need to listen to Mori's permission of his dismissal. He could care less, really.

He yawns, regretting not having slept for long last night. He couldn't escape the nightmares that plauged his mind. "Why so tired?" a booming voice rattles around Dazai, and he stops in his tracks to stare at the huge tank where a massive sea beast lay unmoving. perhaps Dazai was still in a dream--so he pinches his hand, only to be met with pain. He's very much awake.

"How are you not dead?" Dazai blurts, stepping closer to the tank and staring into the murky green water, dirty from years of not being cleaned. Mori still wanted to keep the tank and the creature held within. perhaps it held value to Mori, or it could sell for a fortune on some black web.

"I'm far from death, mortal." The voice echoes, letting out a laugh that rattles Dazai's entire body as he places a hand to the dusty glass of the tank. "I'm an ancient being. truly, i am considered young." It says, and Dazai can hear the deep intake of breath it takes before speaking once more.

"Mortal," it starts, and Dazai wipes the dust off his hand on his pants before stepping back and crossing his arms. "Bring me my. . .child. I wish to see him."

Dazai pauses, brows furrowed. "Child? I dont know where he'd be, i-"

"You do. You did just ask for his freedom, no?"

Oh.

His neck is suddenly freezing cold, and his skin turns to ice as chills run up his spine. "How do i-- how?" He mumbles, more to himself than the sea beast.

"He can breathe with no water, yet only for an hour. Bring me him. Put him in this tank with me." It demands, and Dazai forces himself to step further away from the tank. He feels like he cant breathe, god why cant he breathe? His limbs are heavy, and he's planted firmly in place as the world spins.

"Oh, goodness. You should go get him before my powers effect you more." A distant voice says, and Dazai can only let out a choked whimper as he nods and forces himself to move. He walks out of the room, into a different area of the basement where far more active tanks reside.

A emptiness seems to burrow itself inside Dazai's mind--something not rare, yet uncommon at most times--and he finds himself silently climbing the ladder to reach the top of the smaller tank which in resides a sea creature that Dazai had admired since he laid eyes on him.

"hey." The sea creature mumbles, his blue eyes the softest color of the sea and the sky. Dazai's breath catches in his throat and he scoops his arms into the water. "Climb in my arms, please?" He mumbles, watching the sea creature's eyes light in a fiery joy before he moves into Dazai's arms.

"Hmmh." The sea creature hums, content to reside in Dazai's arms for the time being it seems. . . . .

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And that's the end! hope you all enjoyed <3

P.s the ACTUAL chapter 14 is being worked on!! just stay patient and keep your eyes open, everyone!

Reminder to go check out WIMPBMP on A03!!

#a03 fanfic #a03 writer #bsd beast #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs #fanfic

[yoohoo-undead-unleashed]

Chapter One: The day that things went wacko

"Where is he?!"

Lemmee the lemur was not having a good time.

Roodee had told everyone the previous morning that he had some new invention in store.

Everyone had been present when it was time for the update.

All except for one.

"Have you seen YooHoo anywhere?" he called out to anyone who could listen.

Except there wasn't really anyone who could listen.

"Are you all deaf? Has YooHoo come around here at all?"

No response.

He sighed.

"There has to be some sort of excuse he'd use to get out of coming to Roodee's on time."

He scoffed to himself. "He better have one."

After a long while of fruitless searching, his ears twitched as he heard the sound of snoring.

Looking up, he saw who he was looking for.

"YooHoo..."

No response.

"Yoo~Hoo~..."

Still not budging.

Well. Looks like it was time.

"YOOHOOWAKEUPYOUNEEDTOGETTOROODEE'SNOWDON'TGIVEMEANEXCUSE!" he shouted, banging his hands on the tree.

That startled him awake, but that also made him fall out.

Fortunately his lemur friend was there to catch him.

Of course, if catching him meant "cushioning his fall", that was 100 percent what happened.

"What was it about going to Roodee's?"

Lemmee groaned.

"Oh..."

"Just... Come to Roodee's... Please..."

He complied.

"I know you wanted good news, but... I seem to have forgotten about what I was supposed to be making."

"Are you serious?! What was the whole point of me getting YooHoo, then?!"

YooHoo couldn't blame his capuchin friend for his little blunder.

"Lemmee, please don't get mad, I'm sure it was just a little problem," Pammee the fennec told him.

"Yeah! Besides, it was just a blueprint I misplaced!"

"Hey, could you tell us what it was? Or at least tell me?" Chewoo the squirrel chirped. "I know it had to be something cool, right?"

"Uh... Well..."

The island suddenly began to rumble.

"Whoa! Is there a volcano ready to erupt here or something?"

"No, it's that light! Look at it!"

YooHoo squinted as he focused on it. His eyes widened as he recognized where it was coming from.

"No way... The Death Forest?!"

Now, even mentioning the Death Forest was enough to keep anyone away from it. So, something happening there that nobody has witnessed before that would be a hint that there was something in there?

Yeah... Not normal.

"Do we— Should we tell Grandfather Looney about this?" Roodee stammered.

"I say no. It's probably just some weird phenomenon. Besides, it's not like there's more of those around," Lemmee said, shrugging.

"You were saying?" Chewoo asked, pointing at something else from afar.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," the lemur moaned as he noticed several more of those strange lights coming from other parts of the island.

"It's a success!" the Boss cheered. "I knew there were more Soul Pots!"

"Yeah, but... But what about the Monster things?!" Oops shouted.

"Yeah! When are we gonna see the first one?" Koops added.

"It won't be long, boys," the Boss grinned. "It won't be long..."

"We're almost there, guys!" YooHoo called. "Just a few more minutes!"

"Gee, I sure hope we don't get anything in the way! It suuure would be bad!" Lemmee snarked.

"Lemmee, you've already jinxed yourself once, you don't want that to happen again," Pammee warned.

"Hey, is that a new friend?" Chewoo pointed out. "Hi, buddy!"

This "new friend" looked... Odd. It looked like a lizard, yet it seemed... Gooey. Almost like slime. It seemed to be wearing tattered clothing as well.

"I... Don't think that thing's friendly," Roodee said.

Pammee's ears flicked at the sound of crackling behind her.

Turning around, she saw a raccoon(?)-like creature that appeared to be wrapped in bandages with a burning tail.

This was when they all knew.

Yootopia was under attack.

#goonya monster #グーニャモンスター #yoohoo #yoohoo and friends #유후와 친구들 #yoohoo: undead unleashed

[primatechnosynthpop]

If You Push Them Too Hard, They're Going To Break

Part 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The next few weeks were surreal to say the least. By day, Jemaine and Bret carried on with their regular lives. By night they performed to moderate success at bars, clubs, auditoriums, corporate events-- not public libraries or elevators. None of their gigs drew in huge numbers, but the numbers they drew went beyond single digits. And they always got paid.

Mel was never in the crowd, of course. Neither was Doug, which Jemaine felt a bit betrayed by whereas Bret didn't really notice or care. He could have showed up to support them, Jemaine thought, to pay tribute to his wife's legacy. People applauded, but never with the volume or enthusiasm Mel used to, nor did fans approach them with anywhere near her level of zeal. In fact, hardly anyone approached them at all. People just showed up, watched them play, and left. It was disconcerting. They'd always thought if they ever succeeded, their loyal fan would be there to cheer them on, gushing about how proud she was that her guys had finally made it.

"It's too bad," Jemaine remarked once while they were backstage, tuning his bass in preparation to perform. "I could've included her in my wish if I'd remembered."

"Maybe Doug can make a contract," Bret suggested. "If he wants to bring her back."

Jemaine grimaced and shook his head. "No, Doug would make a terrible magical girl."

There was still a familiar face who cropped up amidst the crowds, though. Dave usually sat near the back, hoping to come off as aloof and not make it seem like he was overly invested in the band's performance. They may have been moving up in the world, but he still had a reputation to uphold. But by the end of the night he'd be pointing up at the stage and proclaiming to anyone in earshot, "Hey, I knew these guys before they were famous. If you wanna hear any stories about 'em, just ask me-- although, fair warning, they're boring as hell except the parts where I show up."

They weren't famous even now, really-- nobody talked about them on the street or on social media, and there was still no sign of a record deal. But if Dave wanted to call them famous, they weren't going to correct him.

"I always knew you guys would hit the big time someday," he told them one night after a performance that was successful but not too successful as always. He poured each of them a drink and slid the glasses across the bar counter toward them. The drink in question was just water, but Bret and Jemaine took it without complaint because they didn't really feel like alcohol anyway. "I guess some of my advice must have finally paid off."

"Oh, uh, I don't know about that," Bret admitted. "It was mostly because Jemaine did something you told us not to do."

"Bret, we don't need to tell him that."

"What? Did you guys get your big break by going on a date with each other's exes or... shit, what else have I told you not to do?" Dave scratched his head, pushing his bandana askew. "Or, wait, is this about the whole gay thing? Listen, I never actually said you couldn't be gay. It's just that if you were, chicks wouldn't be--"

"It's not a gay thing," Jemaine cut him off. He took a sip of water, shooting Bret a dirty look over the rim of the glass, which Bret was oblivious to because he was also sipping water and doing it with his eyes closed for some reason. "It has to do with magical girls. And one of us becoming one."

"Yeah, no shit, you already told me Bret's a magical girl."

"No, I mean... another one of us. Both of us, now, we're magical girls."

"Oh." Dave squinted at Jemaine's hand, and sure enough, there was one of those rings just like Bret had. "Well, fuck, man."

Jemaine, sensing how much the mood had immediately soured, tried weakly to steer it back to cheerful. "It's not so bad. Better than I thought it would be. I like my costume."

Dave didn't say anything to that. He didn't know what to say. So two of his friends had basically thrown their lives away? After all the bullshit advice he made up on the spot to impress them, this was the time they decided not to listen. The one time he actually had a real, serious warning, and they ignored it. Well, shit. What could you say to that?

Instead of responding, he chugged his own drink (not water) and let his gaze stray around the bar. There were people dancing, a couple hot chicks, but none that got him too excited. He thought he spotted Murray in a corner trying to chat up a couple guys in suits, but the suits didn't look interested in whatever he was saying. People had been singing along when Jemaine and Bret got up there and played their lame nerd-ass songs, but nobody was approaching them now. That was weird. Didn't there used to be someone who was always on their dicks?

"What happened to that psycho chick, anyway?" he muttered. "The one who wants to fuck you guys so bad it makes her look stupid."

Jemaine and Bret exchanged a glance, their faces jarringly solemn. Bret looked more pensive, while Jemaine seemed resigned. Now it was Dave's turn to realize he'd asked the wrong question. But, to their credit, they answered him anyway.

"Mel's not around anymore," said Jemaine.

Bret sighed, staring down into the cup of water in his hands. "She turned into a witch and we had to kill her."

Jemaine turned to Bret with as much incredulity as Dave did. Both said "What?" almost in unison, though with Jemaine's much flatter delivery you'd never know he was equally taken aback.

"You didn't mention she became a witch," said Jemaine.

"Didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. When did that happen?"

"Oh, sorry, I thought I mentioned it. It was the time Murray died."

"What?"

"Murray fucking died?" Dave interjected. "But he's standing right over there."

"Yeah, but then-- you know, your wish, Jemaine..." Bret gestured vaguely, cheeks colouring with embarrassment as he realized how poorly he was explaining himself. He really thought he'd been over this, but obviously it had slipped his mind. "Anyway, he is alive now, but Mel's not because she became a witch."

"I don't believe this," Jemaine muttered.

"Sorry, man, I just--"

"Not you," he clarified. "Kyubey. It didn't say anything about people turning into witches. We might have wanted to know that before making contracts with it."

"See, that's why-- I fucking told you New Guinea morons not to be magical girls!" Dave snapped, slamming his glass down on the bar. The drinks had gone to his head a little, and he knew he wasn't being cool and he'd regret blowing up like this later, but fuck, he was pretty sure he was allowed to be mad about this right now. "Rule number one of making a deal, you wanna know shit about what you're getting into. That means you ask questions before giving anything up, because if you get scammed, nobody's gonna give you a refund."

"...Sorry, Dave."

"We're from New Zealand. But yeah, sorry, Dave."

"Yeah, whatever." He took one last swig of his drink even though it tasted like shit now. "Just don't die, okay? And if you do, don't say I didn't warn you."

*

On the nights they didn't have gigs, they fought witches, which was only a slightly bigger change of pace than the gigs.

Bret ran through a twisting Parisian street, occasionally shooting at the witch towering above him. The familiars, fancy woman-shaped dolls dressed up in scarves and berets, had Jemaine surrounded. They were speaking in some garbled language he couldn't understand. It made his head ache. He beat them back with a nunchuck in each hand, one wood and one metal.

The ground shook as one of the witch's giant metal legs came crashing down inches from where Bret had been a moment ago. The witch was dressed the same as its familiars, but instead of a doll body it had the body of a full-size eiffel tower. Bret, tired of running, ducked into the closest building that had a working door-- a library. He ducked between two bookshelves, where he hid until the thundering steps from outside faded away and he could relax with the knowledge that the witch had passed him by.

<Jemaine,> he called out telepathically. <Where are you? I'm in a library.>

It took a moment for Jemaine to respond, and Bret briefly wondered if his friend might have been hurt or worse. But luckily his response came through eventually. <I think I'm in a dance hall. Are you sure you're in the same labyrinth as me?>

<Pretty sure,> Bret replied. He stepped out of his library shelter and looked across the ravaged street. Through a window on the opposite side of the street, he could see Jemaine standing in a discotheque with his back turned, one hand on his hip and the other near his ear like he was making a phone call. Bret's lips quirked in amusement. <Yeah, I can see you from here. Turn around.>

It was bad timing, however, as just then the witch turned around and came charging down the road at Bret again. He ducked inside another building, this time a swimming pool, just as Jemaine turned around.

<I don't see you,> Jemaine said with a frown. <Are you messing with me?>

<I'm not messing with you.>

<You can't do that if we're going to be magical girls together. We have to be a team.>

Bret just rolled his eyes without responding to that remark and lined up a shot through a window. He wanted to see if he could knock the beret right off that witch's head.

-

They'd been in this city-themed labyrinth for what felt like hours now and hadn't found the witch. Neon signs pulsed, the buildings seemed to press in tighter every minute, and a periodically shifting landscape kept them running back and forth across the same streets with no sense of direction. Bret fired arrows wildly into the air, while Jemaine slumped against a cold concrete wall to catch his breath.

There was a shifting sound, and they turned in unison to see a familiar shuffling toward them. It was a humanoid figure dressed like a store clerk, but its body was cobbled together out of muesli. Jemaine cocked an eyebrow at it. His stomach grumbled despite himself-- he hadn't eaten yet-- and Bret gave him an incredulous look.

"What?" he said defensively. "Witches eat humans. Maybe we could start eating their familiars. Even things out a little."

Bret just shook his head. He drew back an arrow and fired it off, but it sailed right through the familiar and didn't even slow it down. Jemaine glanced behind them to see a second one coming up a hill. He tightened his grip on his own weapon and stood behind Bret facing the opposite way so their backs were almost touching.

"What are you doing that for?" Bret asked.

"It's a cool pose," Jemaine explained. "We're like a battle couple."

"We're not a couple."

"I know, that's why I said 'like'. We're just a couple of... battlers."

Bret shrugged. "Alright. Whatever, man."

While Bret's arrows proved ineffective against the familiars, a few whacks from Jemaine's nunchucks made them crumble away. Soon Bret ducked out of the battle altogether and sat down on a fire escape to watch while Jemaine finished them off. Jemaine wasn't pleased with that. He was about to hassle Bret about abandoning him when he felt something shift underfoot.

"Augh, what's that?"

"What's what?" Bret asked, but then he felt it too a moment later. The streets were moving again-- but not just moving. The pavement was contracting and expanding like a beating heart. "Oh, wow. That's freaky."

There was a theory forming in his mind, and he motioned for Jemaine to move out of the way so he could test it. Jemaine didn't need any prompting to take several steps back when he saw Bret lining up a shot. His confidence in his friend's skills had improved drastically since they started fighting together, but he still wasn't keen on taking risks.

Bret fired straight down, and a thick oily substance spurted up from the crack that his arrow split in the pavement. The ground shook and they heard a bellowing sound from below. Jemaine stumbled, momentarily losing his footing, while Bret smirked at the confirmation of his suspicion: the witch had been right under their feet all along.

-

While Bret leapt from rocky crag to rocky crag dodging crashing waves and picking off familiars, Jemaine grappled with a witch in the form of a giant mutated seagull. After a lot of hard work and struggle he'd managed to get up on its back and now he had his nunchucks around its throat, strangling it. Things were looking good until Jemaine felt a sudden chill and looked up to see a piano falling at him from the sky.

"Bret," he yelped, jerking back and letting go of the witch in shock. Now free, it shook him off and took to the sky again with a flap of its wings and a screech. "There's a piano...!"

Bret either didn't hear him over the crash of the waves or ignored him. He just kept studiously shooting down the feathery hands that periodically shot up from the water. Now that the witch was free it took a dive for him too, but he scared it away with a couple arrows that missed by a wide margin but made for good warning shots.

The piano was too big to dodge in time, so Jemaine raised his nunchucks to block it. The corner of the piano balanced precariously on the slim metal chain between the two wooden sticks, which groaned and threatened to buckle under the weight.

<Bret,> Jemaine called with more insistence, using telepathy this time despite his misgivings about the mode of communication. <I could use a little help.>

Bret paused, lowering his bow, and looked over. "What is it?"

"This piano is going to crush me," Jemaine explained tersely. His arms and legs were already wobbling from having to keep it balanced above his head, and something deeper in his core ached from the concentrated magic power required to keep his nunchucks intact while committing this implausible feat. "You need to move it out of the way."

"Ohh, yeah," Bret said, nodding. "Yeah, I can do that, hold on."

He raised a hand, which glowed the colour of his magic, and the same glow spread to the piano as it gently lifted into the air. As soon as the weight vanished from Jemaine's arms, he wasted no time getting well out from under the piano.

"You could've done that sooner," Jemaine remarked as he jumped up on a rocky ledge to join Bret.

"I was busy."

"I almost died. Would you have been busy then?"

Bret shrugged, unbothered, because he hadn't been paying attention and thought Jemaine was exaggerating. One corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk. "I guess I'd be busy finding a replacement roommate."

Jemaine grumbled about how impossible it was to work with Bret as the two of them worked in tandem to bring down the witch. He caught the witch's leg in his nunchucks, Bret shot a few arrows through each of its wings to bring it down, and it was finished in less than a minute.

*

Jemaine couldn't get used to the sensation of sleeping in jewelry, so he took to keeping his soul gem on the nightstand beside his glasses overnight. One evening when they were getting ready for bed, he was struck with an odd sort of ticklish sensation and looked over to see Bret sitting up in bed inspecting his soul gem.

"What are you doing with that, Bret?"

"Oh, I was just trying to figure out the shape of your soul gem," Bret said. "Like how mine's an animal. I can never tell its shape when you're transformed because it's stuck inside that flower. The petals get in the way."

"Does it matter?"

He shrugged. "It's interesting. Says something about a person, I think."

Jemaine sat down on the edge of his own bed and leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hand. It wasn't something he paid attention to himself, but that assertion had him curious. "Oh yeah? What's Murray's, then?"

Bret pursed his lips, rocking back and forth in his cross-legged position. "A pen or pencil, I think. It's got that, you know, sort of shape..."

He indicated the shape he meant by gesturing with his hands.

"Are you sure that's not a phallic symbol?" Jemaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mm..." Bret narrowed his eyes, lips screwing to the side, and shook his head. "No, I don't think it's that."

"Right, I guess it wouldn't be. I don't know if Murray even has a dick."

"He has one."

"Oh yeah?" Jemaine challenged. "Have you seen it?"

Bret gave him an odd look. "No. Have you?"

"No, but with the way you ran up and hugged him that time, I thought maybe there was something you weren't telling me."

Bret rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe Jemaine was still hung up on that. Rather than dignify that comment with a response, he flopped over onto his back and resumed inspecting the soul gem and the little symbol on top. Out of nowhere it hit him.

"Oh, I know. It's a pair of lips."

"...Pardon?"

"Your soul gem," he explained, holding it out for Jemaine to see. "It's shaped like a pair of lips. Your lips, I'd imagine."

"Aw, is that really it?" Jemaine looked skeptical and vaguely disappointed as Bret handed the soul gem over to him. He transformed in a flash of light, then plucked the gem out of his flower accessory and examined it. In that form it was much easier to tell... and yes, it looked like Bret was right. "That's probably because I kiss so many people," he said unconvincingly. "Especially women. Entirely women, actually."

"Or it could be because you've got a big mouth," Bret suggested with a smirk.

Jemaine scoffed and gave Bret a gentle shove. It was supposed to be gentle, anyway. He forgot he had the strength of a magical girl now. Bret went rolling off the bed, and upon climbing back up, transformed into his magical girl costume just to shove Jemaine back.

It quickly escalated into a lighthearted war, the two both ending up on Bret's bed rolling around and pushing each other. Jemaine won out in the end. He was the physically stronger of the two, and not even Bret's fancy agility would let him wriggle out from under a pair of large hands that had each of his arms firmly pinned down. Jemaine panted to catch his breath, a sheen of sweat coating his brow as he stared down into Bret's wide eyes...

Bret let out a startled yelp at the sound of their bedroom door swinging open. He drew his legs up and threw his arms around himself like he was naked despite being fully clothed. The reaction made Jemaine jump too as the way the situation looked caught up to him. Kyubey stood calmly in the doorway, staring at them.

"Agh! Did you see all that just now? That wasn't... we weren't..."

<I was under no false pretenses about your activities,> Kyubey replied levelly. <As a species driven by calculations rather than emotion, I do not make unreasonable assumptions as humans often do.>

"Even if we had been doing anything," Jemaine said against his best interests, "Bret's a magical girl, so..."

"No, I'm a magical man," Bret corrected him. "You're a magical girl."

"Yes, either way it's like one of us is a girl, sort of... like we're both girls, really... so if we were to do anything, it wouldn't be gay," Jemaine flawlessly concluded his thought. "Not that we were. But if we did."

Kyubey found that logic deeply questionable, as it did with the complexities of many human emotions, but said nothing as it glanced back and forth between the musicians. Bret had shuffled to one end of his bed and was sitting hunched over, staring at the floor. Jemaine was at the opposite end of the bed but had yet to retreat to his own, in a simulacrum of a casual pose but with his neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle so he could look as far away from Bret as possible. Both their faces had turned a deep red.

"Kyubey," Bret said slowly, "Could you please leave the room? I'd like to talk with Jemaine alone for a bit."

That got Jemaine's attention. He looked back at Bret, blinking in surprise. "You... you would?"

His eyes asked more questions than he was willing to voice aloud, and Bret gave him a shy smile and dip of his head that answered them. Kyubey nodded its assent and politely trotted out of the room. Of course it could still listen in on them from any distance, but they didn't need to know that.

And whatever happened once that door was closed was confidential business that could only be disclosed in a private magical girl meeting.

[Part 5]

#hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes? #a bit of a lighter one this time before things get sad in the next and final couple installments

[thefirstknife]

Some of the more interesting bits of today's reset and dialogues. I loved this from Mara. She acknowledges her participation in steering Uldren towards his downfall AND she realises that she will have to do better with him in the future. This is from the ending dialogue when you finish the exotic quest for the Ager's Scepter.

I want to mention something from the start of the week because I've seen people get angry (but when do they not when it comes to Mara?)

Long post under read more:

It's about the discussion she and Ikora have at the terminal. Hot take, but both Mara and Ikora are right and wrong in the argument. Transcript:

Mara: "How long have your Hidden been privy to Uldren's resurrection?" Ikora: "Long enough to watch over him in your absence." Mara: "And you didn't direct him home. Why?" Ikora: "There was a concern he'd pick up some old habits." Mara: "You know the Garden made him sick. Riven twisted his mind. Eris would have seen it. She is not so easily deceived by skin-deep tricks." Ikora: "It's true I made mistakes, out of an idea of justice... out of grief. Are you leveling this same scrutiny toward Petra? Wasn't she supposed to be watching his grave?" Mara: "Petra has paid her dues. The Vanguard murdered him and has yet to pay theirs." Ikora: "We both lost family. I am sorry for my part in yours, but... Crow has been treated --" Mara: "My brother is dead. He was exhumed; his body twisted into a caricature. You had your vengeance." Ikora: "Is that what you're after? Cayde... I still feel that grief like a stone caught in my chest. Some days, it's more pronounced than others. Vengeance didn't erode that grief." Mara: "Then tell me. Who am I to blame? Who sent him to Savathun's clutches? Who bludgeoned Uldren into a scared animal and drove him from his home?" Ikora: "You did, Mara. And those Guardians that hurt him, did so out of misguided anger. Don't make the same mistake. Don't make my mistake."

This is some heavy stuff and there's a lot going on. First, I like that Mara doesn't respond at the end. It's uncharacteristic for her. It shows that Ikora's words did something to her. This is evident in the exotic quest later which I've already put at the beginning of the post. She's had time to think and she's admitting the part she played.

I dislike some of Ikora's arguments a lot. First, "concern that he'd pick up some old habits" goes entirely against the Vanguard policy and belief that Guardians are new people. They were only concerned because of bias towards Uldren due to what he's done. And Crow knows this! He said so last week when he wondered why is he the only Guardian judged by his past life. No one else is subjected to the same way of thinking. This is the reason why Guardians aren't supposed to dig around their past lives. Obviously with Crow, there's no way for him to avoid it, but the argument that, if he knew, he'd just magically become Uldren (and not just base!Uldren, but murderer!Uldren who will... I don't know, go after Ikora and Zavala or the innocent people in the City?) really shows how much the Vanguard mistreated Crow.

I also dislike the move to Petra. As Mara says, Petra has paid her dues. She really has. Let's not forget that Uldren was not just some guy to her or just her Prince; he was her friend. She had to watch him spiral out of control due to things she couldn't help him with, she had to make the choice to put him away until Mara comes back and at the end she had to make the choice to kill him. This trauma has shaped her.

The Vanguard hasn't paid any dues. That's kinda the whole point of Mara's questioning. Ikora tries to explain that this was due to grief and losing family, but pray tell Ikora, has Mara not lost family too? Mara mentions this immediately as expected.

Ikora is however right to say that it was ultimately Mara's actions that led to the situation we're currently in. The Vanguard had no say in Awoken royal family affairs. Mara knows this, she said as much in the past few weeks and other lore in general: she spoke at length about the distance she pushed between them out of perceived necessity, the need to shape Uldren in a way to make him less like himself (since she disliked his recklessness and dangerous behaviours), but ultimately that only made things worse. She's aware that his venture into the Black Garden was fuelled by Uldren's need to prove himself. Ironically, in an effort to make him loyal and devoted, Mara pushed him into more recklessness instead of stopping it. She's aware of this. Asking Ikora "who am I to blame" was just waiting to be roasted.

But Mara is also right to ask about how the Vanguard treated both Uldren and Crow. How they washed their hands from killing him "officially" by hiding behind the Guardian, how nobody in the Tower answered for this. Their treatment of Crow as well: forcing him into hiding, isolating him. Excusing all the suffering he felt at the hands of the Guardians as "misguided anger." The torture he endured from Guardians just for showing his face was so much more than just "misguided anger" and Mara is right to feel heated and enraged when she talks about this and when she asks her questions. She expressed similar distaste and anger in a voice line with Glint in regards to how the Spider treated Crow.

I got an interesting dialogue at the end of my Shattered Realm run which also made me really irritated on behalf of both Crow and Mara when it comes to the Vanguard. Ikora asks Crow why didn't he send his latest report and Crow replies that he's had a lot going on and a lot to deal with. Which is true! He's not the Drifter who doesn't send reports out of spite; Crow genuinely wants to help but he's struggling with a lot of things that we can't even begin to unravel. He deserves patience and understanding. However, the following then ensues.

Ikora:

Crow:

Ikora:

This last part is a nice sentiment. But excuse me. Crow has literally been resurrected, isolated, tortured, enslaved and then "rescued" only to be thrust into a cage in the Tower and given "responsibilities." He is not obliged to be the Vanguard's errand boy. It's honestly quite rude from Ikora to tell him that he has to take his responsibilities seriously. The man hasn't lived a single day in his life without anxiety over whether he'll be tortured to death in the street if he shows his face.

I know the Vanguard gave him protection from the Spider and stuff to do (which he enjoys) and accepted him into their ranks. That's all good. But there's very little empathy here that acknowledges the life he's lived. Crow deserves to experience things that aren't isolation, imprisonment and following orders.

And most of all, he deserves to know the truth. Something the Vanguard has denied him for almost a year now. I know Savathun's schemes were involved and specifically, they were involved through impersonating Osiris which made a lot of people turn a blind eye. But now that this is known?

Crow can't share his burdens without knowing the truth. That's the whole problem. Everybody, except him, knows who he was. Everyone looks at him and treats him through that lens. He can't unburden himself without being told half-truths and being denied information. His burdens exist precisely because he doesn't know while everyone else does. So while the sentiment is nice, it reads more like a "that sucks buddy" than a genuine offer to help him with what is really bothering him.

On the other hand, obviously sharing the truth is difficult. His past life is more complicated than for most other Guardians. He's been through things that other Guardians haven't. The situation is complex on every single level and every character has a reason for the choices they've made.

Sometimes those choices are wrong and they are mistakes. And Mara isn't the only one who made the wrong choices and mistakes, consciously and unconsciously. It's a disservice to the complexity of the situation, Ikora, the Vanguard and Uldren to boil everything down to "Mara bad." Doesn't make for a compelling story.

That's what I wanted to address in detail because on the surface, it's easy to just dismiss either of the character you dislike more. And that's just reducing the story to a spectrum of black and white that Destiny really, ironically, isn't about.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #season of the lost spoilers #mara #crow #uldren #ikora #lore vibing #long post #that was such a great interaction between mara and ikora #i hate seeing it boiled down to 'mara bad. got told off by ikora. yas queen.' #ikora is also a complicated character driven by strong emotions and opinions #don't reduce her to a simplistic image of ikora that people generally have #it's honestly a huge disservice to her

[totiredtowrite]

"Ｔｈｅ Ｇｒａｖｅ Ｄｉｇｇｅｒ"

Warnings - Talks of death, blood

Note: plot didn't agree with me ig, if it sucks deal with it 🙄

FEM READERS DO NOT INTERACT (SHE/HER, SHE/THEY)

/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

There were only two people in this town who nobody seemed to see. Whether it be by their own choice or public displeasure, they hardly showed their faces. Town hall meetings, events, the occasional festival, never. Unsurprisingly, the two men who never showed up both worked with the dead.

The executioner, and the undertaker.

Matsukawa Issei, the undertaker, wasn't commonly known by his name. Or even his title, for that matter. Somewhere along the line he'd earned the nickname of 'The Grave Digger.'

He knew why, of course. Everyone knew why. The only time the bulk of the townsfolk saw him was when he was out digging graves at the edge of town. For those who lived near to the graveyard, it was a rather common sight.

Just as dusk fell they would see him out in the field, rusted copper spade in hand as he shoveled up dirt. Typically there was a body wrapped in linen laying somewhere near him, and on the nights where they weren't the people knew he would be back the next night with one.

At first, he'd struggled quite a bit.

Digging human sized holed in the ground, six feet deep, wasn't easy work by any means. Especially not for one man. At nineteen was when he'd started his work. If he wasn't well built before, he certainly was now. If it was possible, he was sure that his shovel would have dents in it from where he clutches it. It was his own little cycle. He obtained the body, he prepped it, (if the family could afford a funeral), he dug, he buried.

Only the reverend and the grifter who hung around these parts really had any continued conversation with him. Even still, he and the reverend had limited conversation. Their talks were short, concise, formal. And, even more so, that was only when a family could pay for a funeral and wanted it in the church.

Naturally that left little to no opportunity for relationships.

Though, it wasn't like people didn't want him. Unlike the executioner, people vied for his attention. The few times he goes into town, he can feel eyes on him. Women and men alike. The grave digger has earned the tag of 'tall, dark, and handsome.'

He sighed heavily, dropping his spade by the door of his home. He never liked burying children. He had two today, twins. It always made him feel remorseful. Like they could have done so much. All he really wanted to to was stare at the ceiling in the company of his phonograph.

It didn't help his mood that the grave robber situation was spiraling. Some sicko was taking bones from graves, keeping them. Maybe he was selling them. Issei opened the door, turning his back to the main room to close it. He let his head fall against the oak. He relished in the silence, though something didn't feel right.

He narrowed his eyes to the door, slowly taking his hand of the handle and turning around when–

"It's honestly about time. What was that six hours? You usually take less."

He stopped, eyes wide in your direction.

The shock prevented him from really saying or doing anything, so you took that as an invitation to continue. "Anyways, nice place! This is the first time I've actually seen the inside," you laughed a bit. From where you were sat, Matsukawa could make out a few things.

A shovel sat by your side, one similar to his. Similar, except it was very clearly made of silver. You were seated on a desk against the far wall, directly across from where he stood. Your legs, one crossed over the other, were clad in dirtied work pants. His expression turned defensive at the realization that there were little splatters of blood near your boot.

"Though you did have to bury kids today huh?" You continued. "I get it. S'not fun digging them up either." You sighed dramatically.

Your remark killed any words I'm previously in his throat. The grave robber.

His face quickly morphed into something threatening, something that most people would run far away from. "You're the–"

"Yep!" You didn't let him finish, pulling up a wanted poster from god knows where. There was no face on it, just a black silhouette with a white question mark in the head. "This is what you meant right? You're absolutely correct."

He moved to advance. "What the hell are you doing in my home," he snarled.

You held up a hand. "Woah there, tiger. You know these things can seriously hurt someone, right?" You tilted your head to the shovel at your side. Matsukawa stopped in his tracks, though his deadly glare didn't falter.

"Look," you sighed, "Can we please get off on the right foot? I'm (l/n) (y/n), the man who's been digging up bodies. Well, parts of bodies. It honestly depends on the price," you giggled. "I know exactly who you are, but why don't you tell me anyways?"

No words left his throat. Well, none that were very nice anyways.

"Right," you rolled your eyes at the obscenities that left his mouth in the place of his name. "But I'm not here to fight." You slid off of the table in a rather smooth manner, sweeping up the shovel at the same time. "In fact, I'm here to help!"

Matsukawa's lips pursed in thought. He should turn you right in to the sheriff. Yet, some part of him wanted to hear what you had to say. After all, if he didn't like it, you've simply engineered your own arrest. He didn't say another word, harshly grabbing your shoulders and steering you towards the small dining table. "Sit." he said gruffly, not giving you a chance to respond before he practically threw you into the chair.

Taking the seat across from you, his eyes locked on you expectantly. You took that as a sign to speak. "Ha, anyways, the other day I found this," you set a femur on the table. Matsukawa cringed slightly. Not because he was nervous by it, but because where did you even have that? "This belongs to a man that's easily six feet tall."

Matsukawa nodded. "And?"

"And," you scoffed, "I found it in the grave of a woman. A woman who was no more than five feet." Matsukawa decided to ignore how weird this conversation was getting. "Unless you're just really bad at your job, these bones aren't matching up. Not to mention the woman I dug up the other day," you let out a breathy laugh. "Can you believe it? Her jaw was far too large."

He shuddered, declaring to himself that he had a psychopath sat at his table.

"Anyways, handsome," you have him a predatory grin, "Wanna entertain me for a bit? Just how do you think those bones are being misplaced? It's messing with my business, you know. Making me less credible."

"Business? What business?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Y'know, grave robbing? You think I just keep the bones I take? The bodies?" You laughed. "Gross, no. I sell them. Shady medical students who wanna get ahead, witches, people who do extremely innocent things with dead bodies." Matsukawa cringed again.

"I should turn you in," he said. He stood up to lean over the table, slamming his hands down right in front of you, eyes angled down his nose.

You, unfazed by this, shrugged. "If you turned me in, you'd get the money, but you'd never know what's going on with the bones switching place."

He let out a muted frustrated noise. "Come on," you tilted your head to let the candlelight illuminate your eyes, "What's the worst that could happen?"

~

Do not repost, translate, or copy my work on to other platforms.

#hq x male reader #m!reader #anime x male reader #x male reader #male reader #haikyuu x male reader #matsukawa issei x male reader #matsukawa x male reader #issei x male reader

[krreader]

BTS reacting to another idol flirting with you when you come and visit them.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts ; monsta x ; exo ; nct ; kard ; seventeen ; super junior ; got7 warnings: language genre: fluff ; crack  word count: 1.7k+

a/n: I’m always scared with these kind of requests that they’re repetitive because I’ve done requests like these before. But I do hope that it’s still fun to read and that you like it ♥

kim seokjin

Jin and you had your anniversary today. However, an idol can't exactly postpone a performance because of a reason such as this one, especially when no fan even knew he was in a relationship in the first place.

You understood, though. You had known what you'd get yourself into the moment you two agreed to turn this into something serious and so you weren't angry at him for doing his job. You had simply agreed that you'd pick him up from the show and then you'd either go and have dinner or drive over to his apartment to cook together, depending on how tired he was.

You must have come a little early though, because when Jin walked out of their dressing room, all ready to go, he found you standing in the hallway talking to Jooheon.

“No, don't be ridiculous. Get your things, I'm driving you there.”

“You're the best and I love you,” Jooheon kissed your cheek, then ran into his dressing room to get his things.

And well, Jin had seen this and stared at you with an open mouth, not quite believing what he had just witnessed, especially the nonchalant look that you had on your face threw him off.

“What? He wants to call someone to pick him up, the address is on our way, we'll just drop him off.”

“And he couldn't say that to you like any other normal human being? He had to say I love you and... kiss your cheek?”

“He’s like family. Jooheon loves you like an older brother. Do you really think he'd ever do something to risk that relationship?”

Probably not.

And when Jooheon walked back out and you three walked to your car, Jin asked: “It's not your apartment. Where are you going?”

“Ah.. it’s.. my girlfriend, hyung.”

No reason to be jealous. None. 

min yoongi

“You're finally awake,” Hoseok laughed when Yoongi opened his eyes and slowly sat up, brushing his hands over his face, “(Y/N) stopped by. But since you were asleep, she wandered off.”

“Where to?” he asked with a yawn.

“Don't know. She said something about needing to see Baekhyun.”

Oh boy, despite the lack of sleep due to him having worked his ass off all night long, he sprinted out of the make-up room in search of you, until he found you talking in an empty hallway with Baekhyun.

“I'm not messing around,” he chuckled, “I'm telling the truth.”

“You're an idiot,” you shook your head, but there was a smile on your face.

“Am I interrupting?” Yoongi stood between you two and since you hadn't exactly been far away from each other, he now suddenly stood very close to Baekhyun.

“Ah, Yoongi,” Baekhyun chuckled a little uncomfortably and took a step back, “We were just.. I mean, we just..-” he cleared his throat, turning around to nothing but emptiness, “Ah, those are my guys. I better get back. Nice talking to you, (Y/N).”

Despite Yoongi being younger, Baekhyun knew when to step back. This must have looked like something it really wasn’t, but from someone that had just walked in, he understood why Yoongi didn’t like what he saw.

“He keeps doing that. They keep doing that. Why do they keep doing that,” Yoongi muttered mostly to himself, then grabbed your hand and interlinked your fingers with his, “You’re mine.”

You giggled a little at how possessive he suddenly became. 

jung hoseok

Hoseok had only left for like five minutes, but when he came back, he found you in deep conversation with Yuta, talking about, what sounded to him like, Yuta asking you to come to Japan with him, because he could easily show you around.

Who did that?

Who asked someone who was in a relationship to go on vacation with him? That wasn’t cool. 

“She's good,” Hoseok interrupted, before Yuta could speak more on it, “We've already planned our next vacations. Japan isn't on the list unfortunately. But thank you for the offer.”

He didn't give him another chance to speak, only waited until Yuta was gone to turn around.

“You just made a fool out of yourself, Hoseok.”

“Because I don't want some guy to take my girlfriend to his home country?”

“Because I asked him if he could make me a list of things that we could do. Japan might not be on our list, but I wanted to add it as a surprise for you,” you shrugged, “Now you ruined it and I doubt he's ever going to talk to me again, because everyone in this industry has too much respect for you. So good job, buddy. Your jealousy once again clouded your judgment.”

He felt like the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.

kim namjoon

This is exactly why Namjoon didn't like taking you to award shows with him.

In a world where everyone was so special, the one that wasn't an idol, but also wasn't a staff member, was the most interesting person in the room. So naturally, everyone was drawn to you. What were you doing here? Who were you with? Where were you from? 

And then there were those who didn't know that you were in a relationship with Namjoon and they just outright asked questions like: Are you still single? Do you want to go out with me?

And unfortunately, tonight was no different.

“I just think it's nice to see someone else who speaks English like me,” Matthew from KARD grinned at you with a little more than simple curiosity in his eyes.

Namjoon saw that little spark and he crossed the room in an instant.

“I don't think it's that special. There are many people here who speak English well, like..-”

“Like her boyfriend,” Namjoon smiled, even though that smile didn't reach his eye. And he didn't want to start trouble here, he actually really liked Matthew and he knew he was older so he wanted to be respectful. So he ended up excusing you two and pulled you away from him, since that seemed to be the best and easiest option to get out of the conversation.

“Jealous, are we?”

“Of him?” Namjoon snorted, squeezing your butt once he was sure that nobody was looking, “I know I don't have to be jealous of anyone, sweetheart.”

His actions told a different story though.

park jimin

Jimin had been so excited about today.

He had practiced so hard for this performance, was ready to show it to his fans and everyone else that was here at this show and to top it all off, you had managed to get a day off and could watch him perform live for the first time in a very long time.

So Jimin walked up on that stage and showed everyone that he was indeed one of the world's most talented singers and dancers, only to walk off stage to find you not beaming at him like he had hoped, but instead, talking with a few guys from Seventeen.

“You're so sweet,” was the first thing Jimin heard you say to the youngest of the group, Dino blushing from ear to ear.

No, this was definitely not what he had hoped, nor wanted.

He was jealous, also a little bit disappointed, but mostly jealous. That is why he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, despite all the sweat.

All of the Seventeen members immediately bowed, almost all scurrying off as soon as he appeared, except for Dino, who lingered a little longer.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he smiled happily at you, then he ran after his members.

You looked up, grinning when you found your boyfriend glaring so hard that if he had laser beam powers, he would glare holes into Dino's back.

“You don't have to be jealous. He told me that he was a fan of my writing style and how I'm the only author he reads articles from nowadays,” Jimin relaxed instantly, but there was still the matter of you not..- “And also, you were fantastic up on that stage. I'm so proud of you, baby.”

Oh, well, in that case.

kim taehyung

Taehyung often felt like you going to award shows with him was kind of pointless, since he was either out watching others perform, or performing himself. He didn't have a lot of time to spend backstage.

But today, they had a really special performance and a rather long one that he wanted you to witness live, especially because he had hyped it up so much beforehand.

Performance in itself was good, but when he walked out and into the green room, he found you at a table with Super Junior members.

“I just think it's really interesting, why you chose him, I mean.”

Taehyung's jealousy flared up to the ceiling and he was about to waltz in there and tell them to leave you alone, despite them being so much older and more experienced, but he was glad that he stopped in his tracks before he did.

“He was there for me when I needed him most, despite him being so busy. We were friends before we became partners and I don't think anyone knows me as good as he does. I'm dating my soulmate, it's as easy as that.”

You shut them up the right way and Taehyung just watched with a soft smile, once again realizing how lucky he was.

jeon jeongguk

The moment that Jeongguk saw you talking to BamBam and Yugyeom, he made his way over and put his hands on your shoulders, beginning to massage them.

“Can you not flirt with my girlfriend please?”

“We just asked her why she didn't pick one of us, but you. We're more handsome than you ever could be,” BamBam teased.

“They actually just asked what cologne you were using today, because you smelled fantastic.”

“Wow, you're such a traitor,” Yugyeom got up, sticking out his tongue before leaving you and Jeongguk on your own.

Jeongguk grinned and leaned down to kiss your cheek, whispering a soft: “I love you,” into your ear.

Dream team.

#bts imagine #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts #bangtan #bangtan reaction #bangtan boys #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #bangtan sonyeondan #reader #bangtan x reader #bangtan boys x reader #requests

[daddywright]

I have only recently got into the ace attorney fandom, and this story was the first story I read, and I feel spoiled! I absolutely loved every chapter, so I'm gonna word vomit here and tell you everything I love about this!

"She offers him a smile. It’s small, tentative, but it possesses a strength that makes a hidden part of him twist and burn with quiet envy." the first time we see nick's wish to be as strong as mia!

Considering the fact that nick didn't have any prominent figure in his life, it makes sense that he would look up to gregory so much

"Phoenix looks up, and starts walking towards Mia Fey

He doesn't stop for two years."

THE RELATIONSHIP THAT MIA AND NICK HAD WAS PRECIOUS AND DESERVES MORE THAN WHAT THE FANDOM GIVES THEM

"Larry’s arms wrap around him, squeezing almost too tight" People forget that Larry and Phoenix were good friends too, and Larry would help his best friend

"Nobody believed him, nobody but Mia" Maya is what Phoenix is to Mia and I adore that

"He wishes, desperately, that he’d said it while she was still alive. I loved you. For everything you did." Not you absolutely breaking my fucking heart

Also the first AA game felt unnatural in the sense of how seemingly unaffected Phoenix seemed at Mia's murder so I'm really glad you wrote it this way

"Expensive. Thoughtful. Too much." SHUT UP NICK YOU DESERVE ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING

Also quick break to mention how I absolutely fucking love your writing style and i wish I was literally half as talented as you cuz the last time I read something that made me feel this multitude of emotions was ocean vuong. And I practically worship Ocean Vuong. So now I worship you too

"You're a stranger to me // When will I stop hoping?" I never really realised just how badly nick musta been hurt by good ol' bratworth before this fic, but now that I have read it, it would have hurt him so bad

"Is this why you never answered my letters? Because I was a reminder? Because it hurt too much?" Honestly what happened to miles and phoenix's friendship hurts so much because it should have never happened, and miles didn't deserve that.

"Maybe Miles Edgeworth is not the man he thought he’d be, either." yo when I tell you this hurt I mean this huRT

Fun fact! My birthday is on the same day as DL-6 anniversary. Gregory Edgeworth died on my birthday. I feel horrible now

"monster. You were nine years old and he's a monster. " No one has made me feel this much emotion for what happened to Miles in a single sentence other than you. I commend you for that

"I love you," he says quietly. He has never said those words to anyone, except for Dahlia Hawthorne.

Maya sniffs in his ear, crushing him tight. "I love you, too."

He has never heard them back.

PHOENIX HAS NEVER HEARD THE WORDS " I LOVE YOU" COME BACK TO HIM ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME WHY NOW I'M SAD

"Tell me everything. Every detail��" Miles is worried bout nick and why wouldn't he? gods you're so gay miles but tbf if I knew someone like nick irl i'd go ballistic too

"He determined the motive for his own assault...with amnesia. Naturally." My man's smart af and he is king

"Is that what she thinks of me? That I'm like that? That I don't care about who the bad guys really are?" Gumshoe noooo you're hella precious! Also this particular chapter was so well written! loved this soo much!

Also taking a minute to appreciate the pacing! Rarely do I ever come across an author who just hits that sweet spot of perfect pacing and you did! so thank you!

Alright so here are a few thoughts that I felt capcom needed to do which you did for us!

no. 1 - Address the trauma phoenix faced with not only dahlia but also with mia's death

no. 2 - Actually fucking flesh out a good relationship dynamic between larry and phoenix

no. 3 - actually! have! phoenix! be hurt! in bridge to turnabout! istg my man would not have dropped from a burning bridge to a freezing river only to have a cold

AUNT FRANZY AND PEARLS MAN!

THEY CUTE

ok so I have a LOT of feelings for bridge to turnabout and HOO BOY BUCKLE UP

So I always thought that in this fic, miles must have felt fucking awful! I mean he very clearly hates who he was and what that has led to but that must have been doubled over with this case! Phoenix would have died if not for mia and it would have been indirectly miles's fault. I think about that alot

Like he said that he very much regrets whatever he did as bratworth in the phone call with gumshoe but i don't think he anticipated this. poor edgeworth

Also I think this was the final nail in the coffin for miles. Phoenix forgave him, after all the fucked up shit miles did, and that made that man go "how is this guy so fucking compassionate awwwww shit I'm in fucking love with this idiotic brave man".

my main thoughts were "holy shit phoenix must have been feeling awful." like to learn that you were in love with a person who turned out to be a murderer but then not a murderer cuz everything you felt about that was real and just...... it must have hurt. He never fell in love with dahlia. it was iris, always. and WHAT ABOUT MILES DURING THIS!!! Like to learn that the man you love was falsely led to believe that he was in love with a person he rarely met and then learn that his ex who is not murderous might still be in love with him because "that was real. that part was real." like damn. people just gloss over this

also I feel terrible for iris F in the chat for iris lads.

Dahlia literally haunting that courtroom scene. I felt mia's power. I felt her desperation. I felt everything and I am once again in awe of the absolute power your writing holds.

also godsdamn pearls had to go through all that shit huh. also FRANMAYAAAAAA THANK YOUUUU

I too, am a hoe confused as to what I should feel towards diego.

Ok anyways we jump to disbarment now

"He just winks at her and says Maya has other talents, and if Mystic Maya overhears, she puffs up at him like the fish from the aquarium she saw once, the one with all the spikes and silly eyes."

you know what constantly amazes me? your ability to change tones so effortlessly. When writing from edgey's pov, the language is sophisticated. precise. when writing from pearly's pov your language is simplistic, child-like. from phoenix's pov it's natural. grounded

"She never knew anybody who made faces like him, growing up in Kurain, and it’s one of the things that makes him special." Yo phoenix is the most amazing uncle ever and we all know it ok he's brilliant

I'M RUNNING OUT OF CHARACTER LIMITS

PEARLY CALLING EDGEY AT FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE I'M SOFFFFTTTT

“I think I did something really bad." trucy baby no it's not your fault

pearl and trucy bonding supremacy. my girls would fuck shit up

"She’d meant to do this properly, one day." Thank you for giving importance to maya's feelings. thank you for treating her like a real human being. thank you

“Everything that happened...for what? It’s only gotten people hurt. Pearly. Our mother.” Me. Me." I felt so bad for maya here. I wish I could tell you in precise words about how this exact framing of the sentence is what broke me. "me. me" maya deserved more, but mia did all she could

"What do scared kids need? ...Food." not you breaking my godsdamn heart again. phoenix just knows what's it like being a helpless child, and he'll be damned if he ever lets anyone face that again

“‘Course, Pearls,” he says reflexively, before frowning. “What for?” reflexively. if every man in the world could be like phoenix wright then the world would be worthy of the gods

"Another one?" give it 2 years edgey she'll be your daughter too

"after countless hours creating the man’s living space in his mind from the background snatches he’d seen in the man’s ridiculous video calls." NOT ONLY DO THEY VC FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON BUT ALSO MILES ACTUALLY SPENDS TIME TRYING TO RECREATE HIS ROOM?? BECAUSE HE WOULD ONE DAY LIKE TO BE IN IT??? good gods these bitches gay. good for them

"because just as day is light and night is dark, Phoenix Wright is an honorable man." damn straight. you love to see it (it being a 27+ year old man pining for another 27+ year old man)

also hey miles! how do you feel about the fact that the man you love changed his fucking major and degrees halfway through college just so he could see you again only for you to be incredibly rude to him and make him end up in jail! (i bully edgeworth cuz i love him)

"Wright finishes, shrugging like it’s nothing, like his commitment and belief isn’t the most extraordinary thing that Miles has ever faced." it's more than pining at this point. it's incredible faith and trust. Miles had someone who cared about him even after all those years despite him having changed so drastically, ofc he would be surprised. Miles loves phoenix and so do i.

also HOT DAMN YOU WRITING IS JUST * MWAH *

Also the whole segment where they kiss is just !!!!! miles wants! it's beautiful! THEY'RE IN LOVEEE

receiving poisonous bottles which your ex tried to kill you with. My man can't get a break huh

Miles being chivalrous and protective and absolutely stealing my godsdamn heart (and phoenix's too)!

Klavier being the absolute king that he is we stan

The hostage situation section? gods miles must have been terrified.

Phoenix not being able to promise pearly that he'd always come back home and miles hearing it and like... ouch. my heart. you didn't need to do that (but i love your for it)

GODS THE CLIMAX WITH KRISTOPH WAS SOOO SATISFYING AND LIKE MY MAN PHOENIX REALLY PUNCHED THAT BITCH HUH

klavier baby I am so sorry

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL!

and thus my comment ends. I believe I have almost used up all of my commenting limits and i leave with these few parting words : HOLY SHIT YOUR AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU!

also I made a playlist on spotify for this fic! here's the link : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3k8lRHiO8ZXQDLpiTUL7SN?si=fc3b35b4ab064867

gods this was long huh

GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY....WHERE DO I BEGIN...THE FACT THAT YOU BROKE THE CHARACTER LIMIT ON AO3 AND MADE A PLAYLIST? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?

thank you so much for all the amazing things you said....i am crying on a Wednesday morning knowing my writing was appreciated this much. thank you!

#ask tag #long post #my fic #nymphietonkslupin

[catboyshinsou]

sick headcanons!

anon request: i love your writing smmm !! 🥺 can i request mha sick hcs where they take care of the reader when they don’t feel well 🥺 you choose who !! <3333

a/n: sorry it took so long <//3

pairings: Kaminari, Kirishima, Tokoyami and Monoma x sick,g/n!reader

warnings: none rlly, mention of throwing up in monoma, slight manga spoilers

can be seen platonically and romantically <3

kaminari:

Tbh i think he’d be quite Useless

Just rlly panicky n stuff bc what the fuck does one do with a sick person???

*walks into your dorm* “hey y-n wanna- WHAT THE FUCK YOU LOOK TERRIBLE”

*you in a blanket and not having enough energy to be offended* “i think i’m dying” “y/n WHAT”

He’d try his best regardless tho

He goes to sato and helps with doing something soothing and welcoming

On his way back to your dorm he passes aizawa and tells him you’re sick in THE worst way

“Oh yeah Aizawa-sensei, y/n is dying-” “THEY’RE WHAT”

Kami would definitely storm into the room with him and be just as worried

What if it was something really serious??? Like the plague?????

They find you just laying in bed, sniffling and groaning

Turns out it wasn’t the plague and just a bad flu

Flu with its whole jazz, you had a fever of 38C and you could barely move

Aizawa got you excused from classes for about a week and left again

Kami just stood there with his soup and went “oh thank god you're not dying”

like i said i think he'd be useless but try his best

he checks up on you every half hour either in person or via text during classes

he brings you stuff like blankets and foods even though you can't taste any of them or have any type of appetite

but! thanks to the fridge in your room you just had snacks for about… forever

he gave you extra attention too

sometimes he'd just sit on the ground and talk about his day and theories while you just laid under your blanket

you appreciated it though

except for aizawa, sato and tsuyu nobody came over and even they just came in every few hours

kami stayed for hours on end and even tried to convince aizawa to let him sleep over so he could “watch over you” incase you “stopped breathing”

it's not like you slept much when he was around anyway, nights were not ideal for a good rest on a sick day

it was endearing seeing him lay on a futon on the floor and poking you when he had to get up for class

he leaves notes and stuff to make sure you didn't get worried

did he do anything to make you feel better physically? not rlly

did he lift your spirits and make you feel less lonely? most definitely

kirishima:

hear me out

this boy is an angel when it comes to caring for people

when he got into the whole essentially self care stuff he also knows what's best for others

he was probably one of the first to notice you being ~off your game~

whether in class or just yknow vibing, he'd tap your shoulder and softly “you okay man?”

he calls everyone dude and man and bro no matter gender or anything he's just that into the manliness stuff

and yes he puts you in essentially self isolation more for yourself than for others

“your body needs to rest y/n! can't properly get better if everyone keeps bothering you!”

he calls you every night tho and he has aizawa bring you stuff when he checks up on you (he's allowed because he's the teacher ofc also as long you're a UA student like one of your legal guardians which is like a dad and dads can see their kids sick right?)

stuff ranges from just bowls of soup to compresses to the handmade ointment against a sore throat to like socks he knitted or something his parents sent in bc he told them you were sick

yes this boy tells his parents you're sick

i mean someone probably told yours but like twice the parents means twice the comfort!

alternatively if your parents are *cough* he'd tell his parents and put you on the phone with them because everyone needs some parental love from time to time (don't act tough about it, he's gonna make you cry and tell you how manly you are for doing so)

when you're back on your feet he probably still treats you like you're about to fall over for like two or three days more

he praises you for how well you did during your essential quarantine and when you say you didn't do anything he says some cheesy stuff about manliness

“bro i'm so proud of you for getting through it!” “i didn't do anything kiri-” “don't say that! it takes so much energy and manliness to keep in self isolation and get better, you did amazing”

tokoyami:

i love birds

also look at baby toko he's so cute

do birds get sick?

anyways

tokoyami is like.. helpful but tries to be undercover about it

he's not gonna ignore you or anything

he's the type to like silently nudge teachers into your area so they could see you were clearly sick and send you back to the dorms to rest

but he'd never actually ask you or tell anyone

it would ruin his whole ~vibe~

dark shadow tells him to tell someone and he rlly does especially if he sees you struggling through it in class but he's also just not great at talking with people so a nudge or “secret note” will have to do

it does work, you're in your dorm right before combat training because mic had sent you up and excused you

mic is sweet he said he'd send aizawa up when he finds him but that you should rest

he also tells you that you have some really attentive friends

you're at this point just letting the sickness take over you so you have no idea what he just said (you heard him but the words just didn't register in your brain)

you get into bed and the first thing you do is sleep through afternoon classes

tokoyami is only at 50% today and so is dark shadow

tokoyami swears he isn't worried, the teachers are capable of taking care of you in an appropriate manner so that you will recover in no time

dark shadow on the other hand is all gittery and doesn't wanna focus on anything but you

off topic but i just think dark shadow is tokoyamis way of showing emotions or well like… like his internal thoughts? not like his internal dialogue but ya know his feelings

so he can act all goth and dramatic but dark shadow is a good way of still giving some of his feelings an output

back to you

so training is over and so is your nap

but you wake up to pillows, stuffed animals, blankets and more pillows surrounding you

half of them weren't yours either

they laid around you like some kind of pillow fortress jusy surrounding you and making sure you didn't hit your head on the wall or fall from the bed

it kinda felt like a nest- oh

you tried getting up, your head almost immediately flinging uoh back into bed but you needed to see if a certain someone would come back in to build the nest

“dark shadow, be quiet we don't want them to w- oh you're up”

tokoyami came in with more stuffies and an extra blanket like it was a siberian winter and your rooms only source of warmth was an almost dying candle

“are those yours?” you asked half asleep, your head absolutely booming

you could barely keep your eyes open, that's how exhausted you were but you made an effort to smile at the bird and his shadow

“uh no, yaomomo-san insisted on making some blankets for you and hagakure-san, ashido-san and uraraka-san gave me all their stuffed animals when they heard i was paying you a visit-” “but the blue star blanket and teardrop pillow are from fumi!! he brought them from home because he can't sleep without them!!” “DARK SHADOW!”

you only chuckled before breaking out in a cough again

aizawa came in some time after and had a hard time finding you under all the blankets and stuffies and even offered to tell the class to stop bothering you

but you just laid there all cozy and told him to let them be

“it's how he shows affection, it's nice”

monoma:

oh so the 1A student got sick??? huh??? I thought 1A was invincible hUUUUUUH??? *manic laughter*

coughs

anyways

so basically the two hero courses are more “in tune” after the joint training

they often have dinners together and it isn't rare to see kendo come over with monoma and tetsu^4

she came over to hang with the girls and tetsu had training sessions with kiri

nobody rlly knew why monoma tagged along though

all he did was spout about how average everything is for the “superior hero course”

he did secretly like the classes growing together more though

he'd sit on the couch with you and occasionally laugh about something else other than his team beating yours during joint training

one day he came in and didn't see you at your usual spot

“ehhhh??? where's the only tolerable person in this course??”

used to his lowkey insults deku pointed you out at the dinner table, head resting on your hand and looking over some homework

“y/n what are you- oh my god you look horrible”

“thanks monoma, you're as nice as ever”

your face was drained of any colour, eyes heavy lidded and you could barely control the pen that scribbled over the paper

he tried grabbing your wrist but pulled back immediately

you were way too hot and the fact that he noticed by grabbing your wrist meant that it was more than just a high fever

“is 1A that incompetent that they couldnt even notice their classmate falling sick??? can you guys do anything but trouble???”

“shut up monoma, we tried getting them to bed but they insisted on finishing up first and there's nothing in the world that can get y/n away from what they've put their head to”, kaminari yelled from the living room space

how were you gonna get anything finished if your head was falling off your shoulders if you didn't hold it up

class 1A really was incompetent

“sato-san, give me a hand”

sato, who was currently cooking up dinner, just held out his hand and some type of chocolate bar which monoma grabbed and ate up

“this is incredibly sweet, i don't know how you do it”

it's become like half a routine for monoma to copy quirks for whatever reason

kiri and tetsu used it to determine which quirk was handier

uraraka’s quirk made cleaning up after a game night easier

it was training for all of them

monoma could train his copy and the others could measure how much they've grown from his reaction to it

anyways

sato’s quirk kicked in and he lifted you up over his shoulder

“monoma!” you could barely lift your voice, faintly kicking

before you knew it he placed you on your bed in your dorm and sighed

“you're lighter than i thought”

“i think i'm gonna throw up”

so you hurled into your garbage can

monoma held back whatever there was to hold back

(he was very much disgusted but even he knew that this wasn't the time to let any type of negative emotion show)

“jolly gees y/n, what did you have for breakfast?!”

you laid in bed as he passed you a water bottle

“you need to drink something, you lost a lot of water”

“awe caring for me, monoma?”

“this is for general health, y/n. i would never as much as care for anyone, especially not a brat from 1A. who even knew that any of you could fall sick huh?! weren't you supposed to be superior to the rest of us??!”

he said all of that while putting a blanket on you and opening the window for fresh air

“god you 1A fools really are incompetent!”

he went into your bathroom and soaked a small towel in water

“i'm only doing this so you don't infect anyone. god you could cause an epidemic at UA and in the end 1b would fall victim to you as well! this is all just for the general well-being!”

you didn't even hear what he was saying anymore

with a half empty bottle next to your head, you slept peacefully

monoma let out a deep breath when he saw you

“i'd never care for anyone in 1A, i'm better than that…”

he whispered those words to himself

(he did care)

#bnha imagines #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha x gn!reader #Kaminari Denki #kaminari x reader #kaminari fluff #kaminari imagine #kirishima eijirou #kirishima fluff #kirishima x gender neutral reader #kirishima x you #kirishima x reader #bnha tokoyami #tokoyami headcanons #tokoyami fluff #tokoyami x reader #monoma x reader #mha monoma #monoma x y/n #monoma neito #monoma fluff

[elriel-oblivion]

WHO'S READY FOR SOME HARDCORE NSFW 🔥😈

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

Just kidding! 😅

Lol, sorrynotsorry for that fake intro haha, but here's part four for real 😅 Thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented on/reblogged the last part, I really do appreciate all your support 😊🥰🥰

Shoutout to @julesherondalex again for finding one of my fave paragraphs ☺️☺️ I think I only have one fave line this time 😅 And thanks to all who comment their own faves!! I really like seeing what you like in each piece - and it def helps me gauge what kinda writing/literary techniques work and engage people the most 😊😊

I hope nobody's disappointed by this part lol, I really enjoyed writing it in tandem with the previous one 😅

Word count: 4.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed

I've also finally posted all four parts to AO3 if anyone prefers to read there 😊

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

The water falling from the jug to Azriel’s head was the only sound in the bathroom. His hair absorbed the water, darkening to a midnight gleam. A thin breeze entered the room, and now without a blanket, Elain's exposed arms prickled with goosebumps.

Elain plunged a hand into his hair, breaking the mud between her fingertips. A quiet breath passed through his mouth and the corners of her lips rose.

She rubbed his scalp, coaxing as much dirt to the surface as she could before guiding another jug of water through his hair. Some of the mud drained away, some clods of sediment sticking to the basin. She poured over a final jug and stained water trickled into the drain. The warmth of the water tickled through her skin, replacing the cold from outside.

‘Is that nice?’ she asked, brushing the water through his hair with both hands.

His body seemed to relax, one foot sliding forward a little. ‘It is,’ he said thickly. He cleared his throat.

Her fingers continued to gently work at his head, and when sure his hair was completely wet, she ran the bar of soap under the tap. Soft lavender entered her nose and she inhaled deeply. That calm scent loosened her own muscles; this could be as much a session of serenity for her as she hoped it'd be for Azriel.

So long as she held taut the chain on her heart.

Soap foaming, she immersed her hands back into his thick hair, forming a lather. The lavender smell intensified, a wave of tranquility sweeping over her. She blinked slowly, as though her mind were wading through water.

Another sigh from him drew her attention back to his head. She needed to focus on this task; for Azriel, she could stay awake a little longer, especially since she’d already started.

Her fingertips massaged his skull, pressing a little deeper at the base where knots had a tendency to form. Elain moved her own neck, a sharp stab sparking at the top of her spine.

She hadn’t mentioned it to anybody yet – didn’t even know if she would – but her visions had been so feverish the past fortnight. Sleep felt like a luxury as she tossed and turned with psychedelic madness flashing behind her eyes. A turquoise expanse of sparkling ocean, birds shaped from sunset, glittering gowns in every shade, and a too-wide smile with pointed teeth were just a few of the recurring images attacking her every night.

Bathing before bed wasn't helpful. She'd hoped the calming scents of the herbs she'd found would be enough to pacify her mind and lull her to sleep. So far, there was no positive result beyond a loosening of her muscles. At least some of those herbs relieved the intensity of the dark circles round her eyes.

Mellow darkness, however, was a true reprieve, one which she found in her garden in those quiet evening hours, when the sky, having bled through its saturated sunset, was awash with deep muted blues.

As if she’d summoned it, a similar darkness manifested around Azriel’s body, swirling thickest about his head like a black cloud. His shadows rose like vapour, tendrils reaching out and twining about him.

Elain’s hands were hidden among those dark whorls, and they whispered on her skin in cool caresses. She leaned over his head and said, ‘Azriel?’

His eyes flicked open. ‘Huh?’

There was something boyish and confused in the way he blinked and she laughed lightly. ‘Your shadows are sort of hiding your head.’

He turned his head an inch or two. ‘Sorry,’ he said, and those shadows began sweeping over each other, wisps kissing her as Azriel pulled them in.

Elain’s hands were stationary until those shadows were completely reeled in, a faint frown on Azriel’s face. Sorrow lurked there, perhaps that he couldn’t be cocooned in that safe space.

Guilt coated the chain around her heart.

‘Don’t be,’ she murmured. Did he hear the shame in her voice? She hoped not; he should be resting, not worrying about Elain’s feelings. ‘You can close your eyes again.’

He did, but not before she caught a shadow lingering behind his eyes. Were they a glimpse into the shadows he leashed within himself, or were they a reflection of something darker, more sinister, perhaps?

That guilt began to cut into her heart now, icy claws digging. Cold squeezed her chest, a cold unrelated to the outside breeze breathing over her skin. How could she think Azriel was sinister? After the countless times he’d reached out to comfort her, be with her, listen to her – and the sincere light she saw in his eyes. Even the hope Rhysand had spoken of that day of the last battle in the war. The hope whose meaning he'd learnt from Azriel, learnt to experience from Azriel.

No, it was absurd. Yes, Azriel was a warrior and yes, he’d killed people. Possibly worse, she didn’t know. But those shadows she knew with certainty weren’t formed from the darkness of nightmares and malevolence and all things wicked.

They were a darkness of safety and security, of nights spent in a loved one’s arms. When a child sought their parent; when an adult sought their partner. They were the darkness found deep underground, where the earth was pure and things grew. Where life grew.

And just like his shadows, he too was not crafted from unholiness. There was unrelenting virtue glowing in him, burning whatever taint touched his darkness. She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d found her at the Hybern camp, when he alone had armed her with his own dagger at that later battle – and then run straight into the thick of it without Truth-Teller.

She didn’t know what she would’ve done if he hadn’t survived while she held his blade.

So when his shadows leaked out again, wrapping him in twining vines and wisps, she said nothing. Simply continued to work in that lovely lavender soap, giving as much care as she could. He deserved it.

She poured jug after jug of warm water over his head, wading her fingers through his locks to wash out the soap. Within a minute or two, the water was running clear. She yawned and dried her hands on a fresh towel.

‘Az, you can lift your head now.’

The guilt relented a little, icy claws releasing. A cold still filled the space left behind. But before the warmth of his presence, his existence, could balm her heart as it often did, she froze. His shadows parted to reveal a tear slipping from his eye. Just a single tear but so abrupt it was jarring on the shadowsinger’s face.

‘Azriel?’

He was unresponsive. His breathing was regular, body relaxed in a state of sleep. Except for that tear. What was he dreaming of?

She raised her hand to his face but let it hover in the air. Would this wake him? Would he even be fine knowing Elain had seen him cry?

She touched the tear anyway, placed a knuckle right beneath it. The tear slipped onto her hand and she wiped off the trace left on his face.

Azriel stirred, voice raw as he said, ‘Mother?’

Mother – was she what, who he dreamt of? There was such a childlike insecurity in his tone that Elain’s heart squeezed. She moved her hand back a little when her own voice sounded wispy. ‘No, it’s Elain.’

His eyes opened, gaze darting around the room. There was a small crease in his brow as he blinked away whatever haze remained from his dreams. The shadows dissipated.

Confusion limned his features in the few seconds it took him to fully awaken. Did he know he cried? That she’d wiped off his tear? No, that wouldn’t be okay. Elain had to distract him, if that were even possible for a spymaster.

Sometimes his title overwhelmed her. Sometimes she found security in it; did he see things he didn’t want to on his travels? Did he have access to a wealth of information he didn’t initially understand, just as Elain didn’t comprehend her visions without further probing?

‘I asked you to lift your head but you’d fallen asleep,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to wake you, but we should dry your hair before you really go to sleep. Especially if you’ll be going outside again. Although I would ask you to consider taking a guest room.’

That frown deepened for a second before he smoothed out his face. ‘Right.’ He sat straight, and Elain set a hand under his head as he stiffly pulled it up. He rotated his neck a bit, water dripping off his sodden hair, sliding down his face.

She placed the towel over his head, patting it across his scalp. Some strands escaped to hang over his forehead, so she pulled them back, ruffling the towel through his hair. All the while, he watched her, but she busied herself with the water that glistened on his neck. Anything to avoid his eyes.

Then he dropped his head – from tiredness or something else, she didn’t know – so she took the opportunity to dry the back more. Drying his hair took more effort than washing, he just had so much hair. The small towel quickly became damp so she continued with the one round his neck, and a short while later, deemed his hair dry enough. Still wet but not sodden, so she combed her fingers through it, smoothing out the tips that stuck out. She left both towels on her bathtub, touching a knuckle to one of the trailing plants sitting on a stool nearby.

She heard the chair scrape across the floor, Azriel rising, so she laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Wait. I want to clean your face, too.’

The idea of having to look at his face for however long it took to clean sent a thrill through her and she woke a little more. The chain on her heart slipped from her control a little and she leashed it back. Her chest tightened as she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the tap. She knelt next to him, honing in on that giant gash on his cheekbone. She touched the cloth to his face.

He winced and her hand stilled. ‘Sorry.’

A small smile graced his face, and he said, ‘Don’t be.’

She recognised the words from earlier and breathed a laugh. ‘That cut does look very bad, though. I think I’ll have to clean it with alcohol too.’

‘Let’s crack open that wine then.’

Something sultry laced his voice, the chain in her chest slipping again. The metal warmed and Elain fiddled with her grip. She let out a shaky laugh. ‘Not tonight, Azriel.’

Goodness. A late night wine session with Azriel. There was heat in her cheeks and she didn’t know how to tone it down. It was even worse with his face so near hers. He’d see it all. Her face warmed further, and it was only the dirt and blood on his that reminded her he was in no position to be drinking the night away. Not with fatigue so clear on his features and in his posture.

And not with Elain. That toed a line she didn't deserve to cross.

So she gave focus only to his skin, wiping the cloth across his face. Once most of the mud and blood was off, she rinsed the cloth, then wiped him down again. He turned his head and as his eyes fixed squarely on her, the chain heated further. She tried to grip it elsewhere, but every link was as hot. It wasn’t uncomfortable – quite pleasant, actually – but she was sure it would be soon enough if she didn’t move now. The cool air sweeping into the bathroom did nothing to help. If he would just stop looking into her –

Elain abruptly stood and on a whim went to close the window. Maybe he'd think she was cold, though she'd regret trapping the air when it was stifling here soon.

She moved to the cupboard by the door, her back to him. She took a deep breath, taking her time to pull out a bottle of alcohol, in pouring a few drops of it onto a clean cloth. The distance between them was refreshing. The chain didn’t cool, not with Azriel still so close in the same room, but at least it didn’t warm any more. Elain took a moment to readjust her grasp and pull it again.

She composed herself and knelt beside him. The alcohol’s scent permeated the air and her own nerves bristled. ‘This’ll hurt.’

His smile was slight. ‘It’s all right.’

She bit the inside of her cheek and touched the cloth to the wound. His jaw clamped like a vice and she lightened her touch, the cloth barely kissing his skin.

This wasn’t the right way. She needed to clean that wound, regardless of what pain it’d inflict. It'd be temporary, the sting. So she pressed the cloth harder, dabbing it across his cheekbone.

His features were stonelike at the contact. Did pain ever become easier to bear? Would the prick of a thorn be less painful in a decade than it was now?

If Azriel’s face was anything to go by, she guessed no. Perhaps some pain couldn’t be learnt; perhaps the body never fully digested pain.

Perhaps she'd never fully recover from the desolation in the Cauldron.

‘Are you all right, Azriel?’ Her voice was so quiet, like she didn’t want to flare the hurt any further.

‘I’m all right. Are you all right, Elain?’

‘I’m fine.’

He wasn’t all right and nor was she, but neither was willing to broach that right now. There was so much to him she didn’t yet know. What was it that shadowed his eyes so often? What darkness clouded his mind before he fell asleep? In due time, she’d learn, but that human impatience, the sense that there was never enough time, threatened to run her tongue.

Time stretched out before her. She’d learn. He was her friend, she just needed to give him time to teach her the workings of his soul. And in return, she would bare hers too.

Neither said a word as she pressed the alcohol into every wound, cleaning his cheekbone and temple, a scratch across his jaw. She stared at the graze there for a few seconds. She’d ask Madja for some calendula oil later; that would speed the healing process.

She sighed as she washed the cloth. Something had loosened the chain, but it wasn’t a sudden unravelling. It’d just been gradual and she hadn’t noticed, one link falling back at a time. Her heart expanded. There was torment in Azriel’s posture, on his face, and it hurt. It hurt that Elain couldn’t do anything for him besides give basic medicines for his body.

But he was more than just a physical form. He had a heart and a soul, both so tight with whatever misery lurked in his past, and she couldn’t do anything about that. For all the light she saw in the world, all the places of brightness, there was ten times as much darkness, ten times as many nooks and crannies where gloom and wretchedness dwelt. What good was the light if it didn’t burn away the shade over everyone’s souls?

She spent more time washing the cloth than necessary.

The chair creaked. ‘You can talk to me, Elain, whenever you need.’

The chain slipped again, Elain’s fingers grappling for those final links. It hurt so much that he was willing to give so much. Her smile was too bright as she turned and said, ‘I know.’

He stood. His gaze was so direct on her that she only held one chainlink now. Just one link remained in her hand, one link between her and the release of a beast she hadn't yet had the courage to face.

The link heated. Her muscles loosened and her hands fumbled with the tap, the cloth falling from limp fingers.

He would realise. He would know what she was thinking and feeling if she didn’t get a grip on herself, on that final chainlink. So she turned her body to face his and cleared her throat. ‘We should go downstairs to the fireplace. It’ll be warmer there.’ For his damp hair, of course.

No matter that whatever cool air remained in the room did nothing to tame her heat.

His hand was cold on her wrist, a shiver tracking her bones, and colder still were the shadows that swept them up and into the living room. Good, there was much more space here. Her feet hit the floor and she bent to place three logs in the hearth.

Moonlight glinted on the steel she struck against the flint but the metal didn’t spark the way she’d seen it do when everybody else lit a fire. She tried again, Azriel silent beside her. This was pitiful. She swiped the steel a couple more times, and a spark finally appeared.

It was too silent here. ‘Those shadows are quite convenient at times, aren’t they?’ she said.

He breathed a laugh. ‘They can be.’

She let the spark catch on the cloth resting on the hearth and threw it onto the logs, a blaze finally blooming. She doubted anybody else took that long to start a fire. Heat bathed her legs.

Elain didn’t know what to make of the lack of judgement she found on his face when she stood. Though, it was common with him, how honestly he looked at her. She shouldn’t be surprised. Save Nuala and Cerridwen, he was perhaps the only one who didn’t view her as a naive fool, a child. None of the others said it, but she saw it in their eyes, that patronising glimmer.

He was leaning against the mantelpiece with a forearm, one leg crossed over the other, the portrait of casual elegance. It wasn't often she got to see him looking so relaxed. Then again, he was tired.

Her eyes met his. ‘Just a few minutes now and we’ll be warm.’

His eyes were soft; he didn’t say anything. Just kept looking at her. Into her.

The air warmed. That was a quick few minutes.

Just the flames. Of course it was the flames. Anything else would be ridiculous.

The wound on his cheekbone was an angry red in the dim light. ‘I think you’ll need a bandage for that wound.’ Some herbs would be prudent too.

‘I’ll be fine without it,’ he said.

She pleaded for interference from something, anything. ‘It’s quite deep.’

‘Not a match for my Illyrian healing.’ The smirk that followed sent a hot spark down her skin. The chain now burned and she lost her grip on it completely, that leash uncoiling and slipping down, down, down into the abyss of her core. Her heart swelled like a dragon inhaling a mighty breath.

She needed a distraction from his achingly stunning face. The wings behind him were not a reprieve at all. Especially not after what she'd overheard about them. Certain people tended to forget she was in the room and had heightened hearing when they talked about the sensitivities of the Illyrian wings.

Her face heated and her heart throbbed against her chest. How improper these thoughts were. The air was stifling now. Perhaps they should've stayed in the bathroom. Even the weak chill of night air would be better than this. She wished she could have shadows to cool her down like Azriel did. Or to hide in. She'd seen him do that plenty of times.

His wings rustled and he straightened, coming off the mantelpiece. His eyes were glazed, somehow even more stunning than they were outside earlier. The fire highlighted the grey brown storm swirling in his gaze while streaks of emerald glistened like the veins on leaves in the height of summer.

It felt like the height of summer too in this heat.

He frowned. She cleared her throat of the pocket of air lodged there.

'Oh.' A bead of sweat glinted on his temple, right above the gash there. The sting that would ensue was an unnecessary pain, so she reached up to wipe it away.

As her finger touched his skin, above the crackle of the flames, a loud thudding beat entered her ears. Azriel caught her wrist and a small gasp left her lips.

His eyes smouldered, that thunderstorm churning in the dim light. His heartbeat. It was his heartbeat she heard. It ran and ran, crescendoeing like a drum before the climax of a song.

Was the shadowsinger feeling the same as she? Did his heart yearn to touch hers too?

It was unbearable, the alternative. Unbearable but probable.

Her voice was thick, with longing, with desire, with anguish all entangled when she spoke, 'I can hear your heartbeat.'

He said nothing. If he truly didn't reciprocate -

She almost couldn't continue but pushed out, 'And it's a beautiful sound.'

That song in his heartbeat finally climaxed, a thunder of sound pounding the air.

'You're beautiful, too,' he breathed.

Her own pulse throbbed, heartbeat echoing in her throat. Tears blurred her vision of him. She blinked them away; she wanted to truly see every inch of his wonderful face.

His breathing lightened.

As did hers.

He was a mirror, Azriel. He saw her; he saw what she hid from everyone else, clear as day. It was his eyes that told. His words, too, in that smooth voice, free of condescension.

And now no mouth had ever looked so inviting.

And maybe this was okay. This fondness, this attachment she'd developed for him. It wasn't a sudden spark - childish and unquestioned. This had been building for a while now. Months. Maybe even since the first year she'd met him. And maybe it was improper and she was a lady, but perhaps it went beyond expectation. If her sisters could give themselves wholly to their love, then so could she.

Love. It was exhilarating, liberating to open up that well inside her. To no longer have that chain leashing her heart.

And because she knew he'd not make another move, she whispered, 'Are you going to kiss me?'

The fire hissed as a log tumbled further into the hearth. Shadows smoked behind his eyes. 'Only if you want me to.'

Without a doubt, she wanted this. There was a certainty, a clarity in her bones that sang high and free. It whistled through her marrow and glided into her blood, awakening her soul. She was not a child. She could want this. She could have this.

'Yes.'

A frown marred his face and her heart dropped. His eyes were now a hurricane, darkened like night descended over them. Torment was etched in the line of his brows, in the flicker of his jaw as it ground together.

He was afraid. Of hurting her. Ruining her. She'd seen the way he always glimpsed his hands, glancing away with revulsion in his eyes. He thought he was a disgrace, a savage.

But how could that be? How could this male, this male of honour, loyalty and charm think so little of himself? He was better than any male she could've had the pleasure of knowing.

'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'and I want you to know I trust you, Azriel. You will do me no harm. You couldn't.'

His eyes shuttered as he lowered them, brows still furrowed. He still held her wrist, so, pulling his arm with her, she reached out and stroked his brow with her thumb. She rubbed back and forth in gentle motions until that crease was gone, and he exhaled slowly.

'I trust you, Azriel. So kiss me.'

The moody veil of night lifted from his eyes, the tempest calming to a glistening haze. His heart still pounded, so wondrously loud as he leaned down, his free hand settling against her cheek. He was unhurried, tentative.

It was agonising. Worse still, he paused with an inch of space between their lips. His night-chilled air and cedar scent blended with the smoke and wood of the fire, seductive as it crept into her skin and twined around her bones like ribbons of mist round pillars.

With shadows flickering over his face, and the light so sultry beside them, his eyes were alluring. She'd never let herself notice that before. 'Kiss me,' she said faintly.

Elain didn't breathe as his lips touched hers.

__

Feedback's welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17 @a-happybird @thewayshedreamed @sleeping-and-books @thefangirlofhp @januarystears @courtofjurdan @ladylochan

#elain archeron #Azriel #elriel #elain x azriel #acotar #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Two Bros Chilling in A Hot Tub/Lightning Struck

Summary: Freed knew he had a lot to learn about being a professional wizard, and when he was paired up with Laxus for a mission he expected to learn a lot. He didn't expect to spend a day with him in a hot tub, and he certainly didn't expect to get an entirely unrelated education about life and about love.

Notes: Hello everyone, happy Fraxus Week. For the two bonus days, I've murged the prmopts together to make a two-shot. The second chapter will be uploaded on July the 22nd. I hope you all enjoy it, and head over to @fuckyeahfraxus to see all the other content for the event.

Links: Chapter Two ||| Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

Chapter One

Year: X782

Location: Magnolia, Fiore

Professional Wizardry was still new to Freed. He hadn't wandered into the profession without the expectation that he'd be forced to do things that previously would have been unthinkable, or that his life wouldn't change entirely the moment he had joined a guild, but he felt like he was learning a new aspect to his profession every day. His expectations of the job and the reality of the job was almost entirely different, and Freed found himself enjoying the challenge.

He'd thought he'd be on missions near constantly. He'd go to some place in Fiore, use his magic to fight off a monster or dark wizard, and get paid for it. He hadn't expected there to be a community attached to it, that they'd be such a rigid tier system of missions, and how missions could be anything from finding a lost item, to being on a team attempting to disband a cult. There was so much more, and it was all fascinating.

After his eighteenth birthday three months prior, the jobs that he was allowed to accept had greatly opened up. They were more difficult, presented him with a greater threat to his life, and he was relishing the challenge. He could have gone on those missions earlier, but he much preferred working alone. While he was accepting that being in Fairy Tail meant there was a certain level of comradery with fellow guildmates, and that with that comradery there also came obligations, he didn't see the point in splitting his finances with others while he was powerful enough to perform these missions on his own and take home all the money himself.

The exception to this was Laxus Dreyar.

Master Makarov had approached Freed on his birthday with a proposition. He was worried for his grandson, wanted someone to look after him, and wondered if Freed would mind occasionally attending missions with him. He claimed that, while officially the money would be split between them, Makarov himself would make up the difference for Freed so that he would be paid in full. Freed had agreed, and that had been that.

Up until that afternoon, Freed had not gone on any missions with Laxus. They'd hardly spoken, even with Makarov's assurances that they'd get along. Freed would only be on certain missions and that afternoon's mission was apparently one of them. Makarov told Laxus Freed needed training in more advanced missions, and that he should be the one to do it. Laxus hadn't argued.

Somehow, while attending to a supposedly A-Class mission, they found themselves in Magnolia's hot spring and spa resort.

It was surveillance, so the mission stated. The Rune Army themselves had place the job, stating that they believed that members of a potential dark guild were using the site to host meetings and plan attacks. The resort had been trying to get rid of the suspects but couldn't do so without putting their staff in danger, and having an army presence suddenly appearing would tip the dark guild off and give them time to hide all evidence. The Rune Army wanted mages from Magnolia who could plausibly be in the spa for leisure time, but could also defend themselves from attack, to watch them for suspicious activity. Freed had a feeling that Laxus had taken the job to have a day relaxing in a spa, rather than because he felt the Rune Army needed the help.

None of this would have been a problem for Freed – he'd long since accepted that what constituted a job was a wide array of things – if it weren't for the elephant in the room. Or to be more precise, the Adonis wearing nothing but swimming trunks in the room.

Freed was a professional, but he was also eighteen years old and in the presence of an undeniably handsome man. Nobody, no matter their opinions on Laxus, would state that he was anything but sexy. Tall, blonde, square jawed, barrel chested with a scar over his eye and a tattoo over his pecs. His abs looked to be cut from steel and his legs comparable to tree trunks and, well, Freed was only human. Laxus was distracting.

"So," Laxus suddenly spoke as he slung a towel over his shoulder. "I don't exactly know what Gramps wants you to learn from this, but I'll try and teach ya some shit. Surveillance rule number one: fit in with yer surroundings. You seem pretty good at that."

It was only a moment, but Laxus' assessing gaze over Freed's body was exhilarating. But unprofessional.

Laxus didn't seem to notice, and instead started to walk out of the locker room they'd both changed in, and towards the area where they were meant to be watching. Freed followed, making sure to look straight ahead, rather than give into temptation to check out the man's back and his ass, and it wasn't a difficult task. While Freed had no qualms admitting his attraction to the blonde, he knew where his focus needed to be put. The mission was important, not his hormonal desire for his guildmate.

"That's the door we need to watch," Laxus said as he tilted his head to the door. Freed knew that of course, but Laxus was speaking again before he could say anything. "Pretty open room, lots of vantage points. Where should we go?"

Ah, it was a test then. Good, a worthy distraction and hopefully it would nip any ideas that Freed was in some way Laxus' inferior in the bud. Freed looked around the room quickly, glanced towards the door that they needed to keep in their sights, and quickly made a plan of how the rest of the day would go. Strategy was his strong suit.

"The hot tub," He said firmly. "At least for now."

"Why only for now?" Laxus asked. There was no condensation in his tone, he was simply asking for Freed's reasoning.

"Staying in the same place throughout the afternoon would be suspicious. We know who the suspects are, but that doesn't mean they're the only people involved, so we need to look like regular customers constantly," Freed explained, speaking quietly as they walked further into the room. "As we've only just got here, it makes sense for us to use a facility instantly. Going to sit by the pool or at the juice bar would be odd, at least for now. The massage tables and spa treatments are too distracting, but the hot tub allows us to sit and watch without anyone questioning it. It'll give us the lay of the land without drawing any attention on us."

"And we both have to do it?" Laxus probed. "Wouldn't it make more sense to split up and cover more ground.

"Later," Freed dismissed. "We came in together; we'll need to do things at the same time at least once in a while. As I said, the treatments are distracting and as such we should do them one at a time rather than simultaneously. If we spend the whole day apart after we've arrived together, it'll raise suspicion. The hot tub is a good vantage point, and so a good way to be seen together while not losing an advantage."

Laxus thought for a moment, before nodding, clasping Freed on the bare shoulder, and giving him the smallest of grins. "Yer good at this."

"Of course I am," Freed retorted, and that seemed to make Laxus grin wider.

They walked towards the hot tub, which was at the back wall, attached to the main pool. As it was a Tuesday afternoon, only a few people were loitering around the resort and the hot tub was empty. Freed placed his towel on the handle provided and walked into the hot tub, soaking his entire body sans his head in the hot, bubbling water. His muscles relaxed instantly, and he felt himself slinking down ever so slightly.

"You ain't here to relax," Laxus said in a voice almost teasing as he climbed the stairs into the tub. "Eyes on the mission, remember."

Freed went to point out that, given Laxus was looking at him rather than at the door, he was just as distracted. But Laxus chose that moment to sit down, submerging his chest in water and spreading his arms wide. His left hand was close to Freed's shoulder, and Freed felt that it was an act of great resilience that he didn't give into base urges and watch Laxus as he adjusted to his relaxed, wet – very very wet – state.

"I will if you will," Freed eventually said back, looking towards the door. He missed how Laxus' gaze lingered on his body just a little too long.

They fell into silence, and Freed made a genuine effort to keep his gaze away from the man who shared the hot tub with him. He truly hadn't thought this through. He hadn't realised that, as good as Laxus looked from afar, he looked better up-close. Maybe he should have denied the request to join the mission. And maybe he should have worn a looser swimsuit…

"So," Laxus said after a while, looking up at the ceiling for a moment to crack his neck. "How much is the old man paying you to spy on me?"

Freed halted, and removed his eyes from the door and looked towards Laxus. His face only, of course. "Excuse me."

"Rule two, you gotta trust the guys you're working with. So don't bullshit yer team members," Laxus said with a little grin. "Answer the question."

"For every mission that I do with you, he'll cover all the money you take from it, so I'm fully paid," Freed explained. He saw no point in lying.

"Guess we're gonna be doing some well-paying missions together then, if we wanna bleed the old bastard dry," Laxus smirked, and it was an oddly alluring look on the man. Freed looked away from it, and towards the door again. "You gonna tell him that I'm onto him?"

"I'd rather keep the deal up, I can get good money doing this," Freed shrugged, and he saw Laxus grinning a little from the corner of his eye. He tried not to pay attention to the expression, and instead focused on a man who could fit the description of a suspect. The man walked past the door, but that didn't mean he wasn't who they were looking for. "Why did you agree to this if you knew your grandfather wants reports on you?"

"Because it's gonna happen anyway, might as well accept it," Laxus shrugged. "I knew he was gonna get someone to do it, kinda glad that it's you."

"Why?"

"Because yer interesting," Laxus said, looking up at the ceiling again and closing his eyes as he lowered himself deeper into the water. Freed's gaze flickered low on the man's abs for a moment before looking to the door again. "We get a hell of a lot of mages joining Fairy Tail. Lots of people who think they're tough shit and wanna become the next powerhouse. Yer the only person I think whose got a chance of actually doing it."

The compliment was flattering. Laxus had something of a reputation for being generally rude and selfish, and either they were exaggerated or Laxus was making an exception. Freed felt it was a combination of both, but he accepted the compliment without complaint.

"You know my magic?" He asked.

"I've been keeping tabs on you since you came here, yer interesting," Laxus nodded, wading a hand through the water absently and sending ripples through the bubbles. "People give the darker magics a lot of shit. They're idiots. You can kick ass, and you're not bad to be around. Pretty much the opposite of a Fairy Tail mage right now."

"Does that opinion extend to you?"

"What d'you think?" Laxus asked with a cocky expression that Freed found himself enjoying.

"I wouldn't be here if I thought you weak."

"Good."

They fell into a silence, with the bubbling water warming Freed and making his muscles loose and relaxed. He kept a steady gaze on the door, making sure to avert his eyes when someone walked into the room, so his staring wasn't too obvious. It was a worthy distraction, and one well needed now that Laxus had apparently been watching him for all of eight months. That, combined with the fact that Laxus was wearing swimming trunks and was less than five feet away, could all become rather an issue if Freed didn't focus on anything else.

"Okay, your turn to relax now," Laxus said, cutting through Freed's thoughts. His voice was a little more relaxed. "You can't stay lookin' at the door all day. You'll get a crick in the neck."

"I'll be fine," Freed dismissed.

"Doesn't matter," Laxus stated, shifting slightly to get closer to Freed. It was to get a better view of the door, but the body heat that rivalled the warmth of the water was a noticeable feeling and Freed tensed. "Rule Three: lean on yer teammates. Sometimes you'll need to slack off, that ain't something to fight against. So long as someone in the team is on full alert it isn't too bad a problem. So sit back, close yer eyes, and let me take over for a while."

Freed was hesitant, but Laxus was clearly taking over keeping his gaze on the door, and Freed eventually found himself sliding down to further cover his body in water, and closed his eyes as relaxation flowed through him.

When his mind began to slip, Freed found himself thinking that Laxus was actually rather helpful. Freed wasn't quite so arrogant to think he knew everything about wizarding work, and an S-Class mage would have things to teach. Laxus especially would be useful to learn from, given their apparently similarities in working styles. Freed would need to learn how to work in a team, even if it wasn't fond of the idea, and Laxus might know how to offer actual advice rather than pointless mantras like 'your team should be your family' and other nonsense he'd heard from Fairy Tail. Without lying about why he was there, his team-ups with Laxus might be mutually beneficial.

Perhaps relaxing wasn't too bad an idea, either. Freed's mind had been somewhat consumed by his work. Finding a place to live as a seventeen-year-old had been difficult, and he'd put in a lot of effort in getting rent on time. But now he got better paying jobs, that urgency could fall away a little.

With a bit of effort, he tried to push the fact he was on a job to the back of his mind.

Once this whole thing was dealt with, maybe he would invest in a pass for the resort. In his preliminary research for the mission, he'd heard good things about the facilities, and even though he'd only been in the hot tub as of yet, he felt inclined to agree.

Though perhaps Laxus' company was partially to blame for his mood.

Fairy Tail had sometimes felt like a lonely place. Their focus on friendship, family and their revoltingly sentimental ideas about goodness were nice in principle, but when you were on the outside looking in it could get under your skin. Freed knew he was at fault for his lack of relationships with his guildmates, but perhaps Laxus might be a good starting point. Ironic, given that nearly everyone had told him Laxus was off-putting and rude.

The bubbles sent a pleasant chill over him, and Freed felt his tenseness ebbing away. When he got a pass for the resort, he'd have to explore the idea of a massage. He'd never thought it appealing, but perhaps he could be convinced.

There wouldn't be much convincing needed if Laxus were the one massaging him.

"Shit," Laxus hissed, and Freed's eyes whipped open. A rush of panic filled him that somehow he might have said that aloud, but the idea was ridiculous. He looked to Laxus to see worry flickering over him. "The suspect saw me looking, I think he went to get backup."

"Are you sure?" Freed asked, mind suddenly back on focus again.

"No, but we made eye contact. He's suspicious of me," Laxus was clenching his teeth, seemingly annoyed at himself. "We can't fuck it up, the Rune Army don't take shit like this lightly. We need a distraction or to get out."

"A distraction will be easier," Freed concluded. "Does he know for sure that we're looking out for him?"

"I wasn't being careful. I was watching him for about a full minute without being subtle. Pretty sure he knows it's not a passing glance."

"But that doesn't mean you know what he's doing, it just means you were looking at him," Freed mused aloud. "What if we throw him off the scent, give him another reason for why you were so focused on him."

"The hell would that be?" Laxus growled a little, and Freed scanned the room. They were the only two people in there now.

"Maybe you wanted him gone," Freed thought, plans forming in his head. Many of them he had to dismiss outright. "Perhaps if he sees something he wasn't meant to see, he'll think you were looking at him because you wanted him to leave."

"What the hell would I wanna do that I wouldn't want him seeing?" Laxus snapped, agitation rising. An idea came to Freed. It was good, it would get them out of the situation no doubt, but it might have a few repercussions in the future. Many arguments both for and against it flung through his mind, and his indecision must have been obvious, as Laxus continued talking a moment later. "Rule four, if a mission's going to shit and you think you can salvage it, you do it. So if you've got any ideas, I'd love to hear them."

Freed went to open his mouth to explain his idea, but he heard movement from across the room and glanced towards the door. It was opening, and two more suspects were walking through it, stone-faced and angry.

Before he could second guess himself, he launched himself onto Laxus and began to kiss him.

It was a sloppy, energetic, and passionate kiss. Laxus was frozen for a few moments, but Freed forced himself to push on in the hope that Laxus was trying to understand what was happening. Laxus quickly started to kiss back, and a hand ran down Freed's back, pulling him close. Freed began to mess his hands through Laxus' hair, heart pounding and a ringing in his ears cutting through his panic. He couldn't think of how bad an idea this was, about how there were probably hundreds of other ways to deal with this, because rumours stated that the dark mages were powerful, and he didn't want to get into a fight he could avoid.

Kissing wasn't enough for his plan. People kissed all the time. They needed to get… intimate. Freed began to run his hands over Laxus' torso – damn was he strong – and he felt large hands groping at his ass in return. He gasped into the kiss, and forced himself to remember that it was just for the mission.

The sound of a door closing snapped him back to reality, and he glanced to the side without breaking the kiss to see the suspects had left. He pulled himself off of Laxus, to find he'd been dragged so he was straddling the man's thigh at some point, and turned away with a blush, panting quietly.

"Good plan," Laxus said, voice also breathless. "Think it threw them off."

"Yes," Freed agreed. He couldn't look towards Laxus now. He simply couldn't. "I'm sorry for doing-"

"Don't, you did what you had to do," Laxus cut him off, voice somewhat stern, which wasn't helping the situation. "I would've done the same if I thought of it, and you fixed my fuck up. So no complaints."

"Okay," Freed didn't feel any better. He stood up and reached for his towel, still not looking at Laxus. "I think I should sit at the juice bar for a while, we've been together for long enough."

"Wait," Laxus began, shifting slightly but Freed was climbing from the hot tub before he could reach for him. "This ain't- you don't have to leave on my account."

"I'm not," Freed lied. Because of course he was. Laxus might be straight, he might not like Freed, and he might not appreciate being kissed like that at random. "If we spend all out time in the hot tub, it'll look odd. It was overdue, more so now they've seen us."

Laxus looked ready to argue, but sighed and nodded. Freed walked towards the juice bar, fighting the urge to touch his lips. Electricity danced over them.

Kissing Laxus… it felt like being struck by lightning.

#Fraxus Week #Fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Two-Shot #Chapter One #canon divergence #Word Count: 3.5k

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 4

(Y/n)'s POV

We tear through the night along dark country roads. Wind slams against the Camaro. Rain lashes the windshield. I don't know how Mom can see anything, but she keeps her foot on the gas pedal.

Every time there is a flash at lightning, I look back at Grover sitting beside Percy in the back seat and for a few moments, I wonder if I'd gone insane, or if he is wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But no, the smell is one I remember from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo - lanolin, like from wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal.

The only thing it seems Percy could say is, "So, you and my mom . . . know each other?"

Grover's eyes flit to the rearview mirror, though there are no cars behind us. "Not exactly," he says. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you."

"Watching me?" Percy asks.

"Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he adds hastily. "I am your friend."

"Um . . . what are you, exactly?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Grover answers.

"It doesn't matter? From the waist down, my best friend is a donkey -"

Grover lets out a sharp, throaty, "Blaa-ha-ha! Goat!" he cries.

"What?" Percy asks.

"I'm a goat from the waist down."

"You just said it didn't matter."

"Blaa-ha-ha! Some satyrs would trample you underhoof for such an insult!"

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like...Mr. Brunner's myths?"

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?"

"So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds!" Percy says accusingly.

"Of course."

"Then why -"

"The less the two of you knew, and weren't together as much, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover says like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination, Percy. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are."

"Who we - wait a moment, what do you mean?" I ask, highly confused.

The weird bellowing noise rises again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever is changing us still on our trail.

"(Y/n), Percy," Mom says, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety."

"Safety from what? who's after us?" Percy asks.

"Oh, nobody much," Grover asks, obviously still miffed about Percy's donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions."

I let out a soft noise of disbelief and Mom glances over at me before yelling, "Grover!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?"

I try to wrap my mind around what is happening, but I can't do it. I know this isn't a dream. Even I, with a vivid imagination, could never dream up something this weird.

Mom makes a hard left. We swerve onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and 'PICK YOU OWN STRAWBERRIES' signs on white picket fences.

"Where are we going?" Percy asks.

"The summer camp I told you about," Mom's voice is tight; she is trying for our sakes not to be scared. "The place you want to send you."

"The place you didn't us to go," Percy asks and I swallow thickly.

"Please, dear," my mother begs and just the desperation in her voice makes tears well up in my eyes. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're both in danger."

"Because some old ladies cut yarn," Percy says.

"Those weren't old ladies," Grover says. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means—the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to...when someone's about to die."

"Whoa. You said 'you.'"

"No, I didn't. I said 'someone.'"

"You meant 'you.' As in me."

"I meant you, like 'someone.' Not you, you."

"Boys!" my Mom yells.

She pulls the wheel hard to the right, and I get a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid - a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm.

Percy's POV

"What was that?" (Y/n) asks, fear creeping into her voice.

"We're almost there," my mother says, ignoring my sister's question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please."

I didn't know where there is happened, but I find myself leaning forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive.

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness—the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I think about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. My limbs go numb from delayed shock. She really hadn't been human. She'd meant to kill me.

Then I think about Mr. Brunner...and the sword he had thrown me. Before I can ask Grover about that, the hair rises on the back of my neck. There is a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom! and our car explodes.

(Y/n)'s POV (Again)

I feel weightless like I'm being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time, and my head slams against the dashboard.

Stars erupt before my eyes and I hear Mom yell, as if in a long tunnel, "Percy! (Y/n)!"

"I'm okay . . ." I hear Percy say.

I try to shake off my daze, as blood drips down into my eyes. The car had swerved into a ditch. Our driver's-side doors are wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain is pouring in.

Lighting. That is the only explanation. We'd been blasted off the road.

My head, feeling as though it was made of lead, I lift my head and it falls against the head-rest.

"Percy, (Y/n)," Mom says, "we have to . . ." Her voice falters.

My head lolls back, and in a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I see a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it makes my skin crawl. It is a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seems to be holding a blanket over his head; his top half is bulky and fuzzy, and his upraised hands make it looks as though he has horns.

I swallow thickly, "Who is -"

"Percy, (Y/n)," my mother interupts, deadly serious. "Get out of the car."

Mom throws herself against the driver's-side door. It is jammed shut in the mud; Percy tries his as well.

"Climb out the passenger's side!" Mom tells the two of us. "Percy, (Y/n) - you have to run. Do you see that big tree?"

"What?" Percy asks.

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I see the tree that she means: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

"That's the property line," my mom says. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door."

"Mom, you're coming too," I say softly.

Mom's face is pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean.

"No!" Percy shouts. "You are coming with us. Help me carry Grover!"

"Food!" Grover groans, a little louder.

"He doesn't want me or Grover," my mother tells me. "He wants the two of you. Besides, I can't cross the property line."

"But . . ." I start to argue.

"We don't have time. Go. Please."

"We're going together," I say, slamming my shoulder against the door.

Together, the three of us escort Grover, stumbling up the hill through wet waist-high grass.

Glancing back, I get my first clear look at the monster. He is seven feet tall, easily, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine. He wears no clothes except underwear; the top half of his body is so scary. Coarse brown hair starts at about his belly button and gets thicker as it reaches his shoulder.

His neck is a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns - enormous black-and-white horns with points you just can't get from an electric sharpener.

I blink the rain out of my eyes, "That's -"

"Pasiphae's son," Mom interupts. "I wish I'd known how badly they wanted to kill you."

"But he's the Min -" Percy begins.

"Don't say his name," she warns. "Names have power."

The pine tree is still way too far - a hundred yards uphill at least.

I glance behind me again.

The bull-man hunches over our car, looking in the windows - or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I'm not really sure why he bothered, since we're only about fifty feet away.

"Food?" Grover moans again.

"Shhh," Percy hisses. "Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?"

"His sight and hearing are terrible," she says. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough."

As if on cue, the bull-man bellows in rage. He picks up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raises the car over his head and throws it down the road. It slams into the wet asphalt and skids in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop; the gas tank explodes.

Not a scratch, I remember Gabe saying. Oops.

"Percy, (Y/n)," our mom says. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way - directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"

"How do you know all this?" I ask, fear creeping into my voice again.

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping the two of you near me."

"Keeping me near you?" Percy asks. "But -"

Another bellow of rage and the Minotaur starts tromping uphill.

He'd smelled us.

The pine tree is only a few more yards, but the hill is getting steeper and slicker, and Grover isn't getting any lighter.

The Minotaur closes in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us.

Mom must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. "Go, Percy, (Y/n)! Separate! Remember what I said."

I didn't want to split up, but I have the feeling she is right - it's our only chance. I sprint to the left, turn, and sees the creature bearing down on me; his black eyes glowing with hate. He reeks like rotten meat.

He lowers his head and charges, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest.

The fear in my stomach makes me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. I could never outrun this thing. So I hold my ground, and at the last moment, I leap to the side.

The bull-man storms past like a freight train then bellows with frustration and turns, but not towards me this time, towards Percy, whose standing in between my mom and Grover, and me.

We'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side, I can see a valley, just as Mom had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But It is half a mile away; we'd never make it.

The bull-man grunts, pawing the ground. He keeps eyeing Percy, whose eyes are wide. I sprint towards my brother as the Minotaur charges at him. I dive forward, knocking Percy over as the horns were mere inches from his chest.

The bull-man lets out a roar of anger then eyes Mom, who was just setting Grover down in the grass.

He keeps eyeing Mom, who is now retreating downhill, back towards the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover.

"Run!" she tells me. "I can't go any farther. Run!"

But I stand there, frozen in fear, as the monster charges at her. She tries to sidestep, as she'd told me to do so, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shoots out and grabs her by the neck as she tries to get away. He lifts her as she struggles, kicking and pummeling the air.

"Mom!" I cry, stepping towards the monster.

She catches my eyes, which are welling with tears, and managed to choke out one last word: "Go!"

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closes his fists around my mother's neck, and she dissolves before mine and Percy's eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form as if she's a holographic projection. A blinding flash and she is simply . . . gone.

"No!" Percy wails, collapsing to his knees.

Anger replaces my fear; newfound strength burns in my limbs.

The bull-man hunches over Grover, whose lying helpless in the grass. The monster hunches over, snuffling my brother's best friend, as though he were about to lift Grover and make him dissolve too.

I strip off my red rain jacket.

"Hey!" I scream, waving the jacket, running to the one side of the monster, Percy doing the same with his own red jacket. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!"

"Raaaarrrr!" the monster turns towards me, shaking his meaty fists.

I had an idea - a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all. I put my back to the big pine tree and wave my red jacket in front of the Minotaur, thinking I'd jump out of the way at the last moment.

But it doesn't happen like that.

The bull-man charges too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way I try to dodge.

Time seems to slow down as my legs tense. I can't jump sideways, so I leap straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck.

How did I do that? I wonder. I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slams into the tree, and the impact nearly knocks my teeth out.

The bull-man staggers around, trying to shake me. I lock my arms around his horns to keep from being thrown. Thunder and lightning are still strong; the rain is still in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat bringing my nostrils.

The monster shakes himself around and bucks like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed into the tree and smashed me flat, but I am starting to realize that this thing has only one gear: forward.

Meanwhile, Grover starts groaning in the grass. I want to yell at him to shut up, but by the way, I am getting tossed around, if I opened my mouth, I'd bite my tongue off.

As if reading my mind, Percy does yell at Grover, but Grover just groans, "Food!" again.

The bull-man wheels toward him, paws the ground again, and gets ready to charge. I think about how he had squeezed the life out of my mother, made her disappear in a flash of light, and rage fills me like high-octane fuel. I get both hands around one horn and I pull backward with all my might. The monster tenses; gives a surprised grunt, then—snap!

Percy's POV

The bull-man screams and flings my sister through the air. She lands flat on her back in the grass. Her head smacks on a rock. I catch sight of a horn in (Y/n)'s hand and I dart over, grabbing it out of her hands and roll to one side as the monster charges. As the monster barrels past, I drive the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage.

The bull-man roars in agony; he flails, clawing at his chest, then begins to disintegrate - not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart.

The monster is gone.

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbles, but only in the distance. I smell like livestock, and my knees are shaking.

I stick my hand out and pull my sister up from the ground.

My head feels like it is splitting open, and it doesn't help as I look at the back of my sister's head, which was bleeding heavily. I feel weak and scared and trembling with grief. I'd just seen my mother vanish. I want to lie down and cry, but there is Grover, who my sister had stumbled her way towards and was trying to lift the limp figure on her own. Both my sister and my best friend need my help, so I manage to haul him up and my sister and I stagger down into the valley.

(Y/n)'s POV

The pain in my head was almost blinding - from it slamming against the dashboard and the rock - and I hear Percy crying out from our mother, but we both hold onto Grover - neither of us letting go.

The last thing I remember is collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a bearded man and a pretty girl, her blond hair curled like a princess's. They both look down at me and Percy, and the girl says, "They're the ones. They must be."

"Silence, Annabeth," the man says. "They're still conscious. Bring them inside."

Word Count: 2896 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert #reader insert #female reader #fem reader

[chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay]

// Day 8 //

// Wind //

The wind swept through Marinette's hair. Her new second-hand convertible gliding, seamlessly.

She pulled up to her boutique in downtown Gotham. Business was booming and her newest line sold out almost immediately. She had to order extra fabric almost every day just to keep up with demand. Not to mention her commissions.

Luckily, her new notoriety earned her enough money to buy a second-hand car to carry any materials she finds while 'browsing' fabric and fashion stores (which is usually a lot) and to hire a few new employees to take on the floor designs, whilst she worked on commissions.

She entered the shop and flipped the open sign. Marinette sat behind the counter and pulled out her sketchbook, she could design while working the register, so she would usually be the one on 'desk duty', unless she had to actually assemble her commissions.

The bell rang and a tall man wearing all black walked in. He was about Marinette's age and definitely easy on the eyes.

"Where can I find the owner?"

Marinette smiled, "Right here."

An incredulous look passed his face, "You're MDC?"

"Is that such a shocker?"

He looked at her as if analysing her movements, "I just pictured you… Older."

She squinted her eyes, "What can I do for you?"

…..

As it turns out Marinette was commissioned to make a dress for the man's (who she learned was named Damian) sister.

It would be her birthday in 4 months and a surprise ball organised by his family was going to be held in her honour (pfft rich people). Damian was tasked with getting her dress.

Marinette was given a picture of the girl to know what would suit her, her measurements (rich people apparently have their family members measurements on hand) and the theme of the party, 'Space', not vague at all.

Every once in awhile, Damian would come around to see her progress, make a comment or two and generally be a pest.

Soon, he started to come by once a week, then every day.

He'd play it off as being a diligent client, but none of Marinette's other clients would even stop by until the fitting. Sometimes never.

Marinette, despite her reluctance, became (dare she say it?) fond of Damian's lack of filter. It was refreshing.

What she didn't realise was that Damian was becoming quite fond of Marinette, himself.

…..

An envelope was dropped on her desk, two months before her original deadline (she easily finished in half the time she needed, with maybe a tiny bit of Ladybug luck on her side).

"What's this?" She said picking the envelope up and carefully ripping the tab.

"An invitation."

She looked up curiously at him, before reading the contents,

Dear Miss Dupain-Cheng,

You are cordially invited to the Birthday Ball of Cassandra Cain-Wayne, as Damian Wayne's date.

As you know the dress code is black tie and the theme is 'Space'. Usually, in these invitations, a list of trusted and capable boutiques and designers would be included. But, due to your chosen profession, I assume you can make the necessary arrangements.

Please be aware that paparazzi and press will be covering this event.

We sincerely await your response,

Alfred Pennyworth,

On behalf of the Wayne family.

P. S. We have heard many brilliant things about your designs and we can't wait to see the outfits you make. We wish to make a formal request for you to be the official designer and consultant for the Wayne Family.

"You want me to be your consultant?"

Damian tutted, "And designer."

Marinette read the invitation again before a teasing grin broke out on her face, "You also, want me as your date."

He controlled his face into a composed look, "I may have gotten used to you in the past two months."

She poked his shoulder, "'Gotten used to'? Oh c'mon, Damian. You at least tolerate me, you even want me as your date, that could qualify as liking. Or dare I say it," she gasped overdramatically, "Friends."

Damian tutted, "Maybe, I want to be more than friends."

She smiled at him, "Maybe I do, too."

…..

The night of the ball arrived and after sending Cass' dress, shoes and accessories over to the Manor with Damian, Marinette got ready.

She was careful to make her dress less extravagant looking than Cass', she didn't want to show-up the birthday girl.

Her off-the-shoulder dark blue bodice was complimented by a skirt covered in hand-embroidered constellations. She wore her hair in a low bun decorated with a star hairpiece.

Marinette also put in long chain earrings, one with a star and one with a moon, that were complemented by a choker like chain with dainty stars and planets. Her shoes were gladiator-style silver heels.

Pleased with her outfit, she walked outside her apartment to find her new boyfriend waiting by a limo.

Once he saw her, his back unconsciously straightened, "You look lovely, Marinette."

Marinette looked at Damian's tux, it looked like your average black tie outfit, except if you looked closely enough you could see tiny stars and planets embroidered into it, camouflaged subtly into the tuxedo with its perfectly matching colour, "You clean up nicely yourself, Damian," She straightened his bow tie with a smirk, "Nice tux."

Damian grinned, "Y'know, I got out from a boutique downtown. You might know it, bright colours, amazing clothes, the owner's pretty cute."

"Oh? That sounds like I have a competition, Damian. Do I need to fight a girl for your heart?" She teased.

He held her hand, "You wouldn't need to because I'm head over heels with this girl. Nothing you can do or say could change that."

She smiled softly and lightly pecked his cheek, "Not even this?"

"Hmm, actually try that, again."

She rolled her eyes, playfully, but still kissed his cheek, or at least she tried to. Instead, Damian moved his head at the very last second and captured his lips on hers.

When they pulled apart, slightly out of breath, Damian whispered as a smile tugged his lips, "You have the most convincing argument I've ever seen, Angel. I might just have to reconsider this boutique girl."

Marinette grinned, "Hmm? Well, maybe another argument or two would fully convince you."

…..

After a few more kisses, the two realised that they should leave, lest they be late. They pulled up to the Manor courtyard, that was currently being overrun by tabloids and paparazzi.

Damian exited the car and held a hand out to Marinette. This action alone caused a gasp and whispers to ripple through the crowd, 'Damian Wayne arrived with a date?'

Marinette placed her hand in his and let him help her out. The paparazzi ooh'd at her dress before clamouring for an interview with Damian and his new amour.

"Damian, who is this lovely lady?"

With his hand in hers, he answered, "My girlfriend Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"Marinette! Who are you wearing?"

"It's actually a dress I made myself, I own a boutique here in Gotham."

More questions came.

"How did you two meet?"

Damian answered, "Well, I actually commissioned her to make my sisters dress for this evening, which you'll see later. And I just kept bugging her until, I guess, I grew on her."

The crowd aww'd.

A brash voice broke out of the crowd, "How do you respond to the rumours about how you're the father-to-be of the product of a drunken one-night-stand?"

Marinette's face fell. She knew that voice.

Damian frowned, looking into the crowd for the speaker, "Well, I'd say those rumours are false."

"You bastard!"

A heavily pregnant, sausage haired brunette ran out and slapped him in the face.

Marinette knew this woman. The one and only, Lila Rossi.

"How could you abandon me and your child? For some hussy!"

Damian's demeanor changed from calm to extremely pissed, "Ma'am, I've never met you before in my life. I don't know who the father of your child is, but it's not me. Now, it would do you well not to speak of my girlfriend like that, she is a very respectable woman and I don't appreciate the way you speak of her."

Marinette's eyes narrowed, "You may never have met her, Damian, but I have. She's Lila Rossi. Remember that liar I told you about, from Paris?"

He nodded, suddenly with a scowl on his face, "The one who willingly got akumatized?"

The reporters gasped, they all knew about the horrors of what happened in Paris. The city was under siege for 7 years and after 3, it was made into a No Man's Land. Nobody was allowed to leave or enter the city without permits, and those were only given to the initial evacuees, those who were most vulnerable, like the elderly, mothers and babies, the sick.

Nobody was allowed to leave or enter after that, except military personnel, until Hawkmoth was defeated.

The city itself was ravaged with gangs and was split into territories, wherever the military didn't have control over. It was a massacre and over 30% of Parisians who stayed died of disease, starvation or they were killed and couldn't be revived by Ladybug's Lucky Charm (including Marinette's parents). Everyone else was just killed and tortured over and over again, unable to escape the cruel cycle. Then the impossible happened, the heroes of Paris found Hawkmoth and the Final Battle began.

They say, very few Parisians were actually alive during the fight and can remember in full detail what actually happened. The only thing the world knows for sure is that Hawkmoth died that day, disintegrated by Chat Noir's Cataclysm in an insane attempt to take his miraculous while his powers were activated after the Butterfly Brooch had already been retrieved. He didn't stand a chance.

There was still another year before Martial Law was lifted and the City of Love was free, although few call it that anymore.

The dead were counted and mourned and many survivors couldn't bare to stay in their hometown after the heroes announced their sudden (albeit well deserved) retirement. Only about 40% of the city's original population still lives there. The survivors have been known across the globe to be some of the toughest, most resourceful people alive, it actually became commonplace to put 'Siege Survivor' onto resumés and CVs.

The Siege had a traumatic effect on the entire world, but especially the Parisians, and to hear that Marinette was one of those few, really put everything into perspective for the reporters. And to hear that someone willingly helped Hawkmoth was truly an insult to the dead.

Damian glared at Lila, "Miss Rossi. You are truly a disgrace. When your baby is born, I will take a paternity test to prove it's not mine and I would encourage you to grow up and stop trying to live your silly fantasies with your lies and start living in the real world. You have another person to take care of now and I hope you can realise that."

Lila smirked, "Please, I'll be putting this brat up for adoption the second it comes out."

From across the courtyard, Bruce Wayne shot up and ran over to his son.

"Did I hear 'Adoption'? Oh hello, Marinette, Cass looks lovely tonight."

Marinette grinned, "Thank you, Bruce. I hope she likes the dress."

He smiled and shook his head, "She loves it. I bet she'll insist on wearing it for the next hundred parties. Now, what's this about an adoption? Asking for a friend."

Lila stared at him in bemusement.

The newspapers and magazines certainly won't run out of things to talk about. I mean what did they expect from a Wayne party.

…..

After escaping the drama (and Bruce) Marinette and Damian entered the Manor, so they could take their seats.

As soon as all the guests and (legitimate) reporters arrived, a young woman walked down the grand staircase, wearing a dark blue ball gown covered with stars. She wore spiralling silver heels and a simple pendant. Her dark hair was woven with a golden star hairpiece.

Cass looked absolutely stunning.

Damian nudged Marinette, "You absolutely outdid yourself."

She grinned.

…..

Throughout the night Marinette danced with her boyfriend over and over, laughter emanating from the two of them.

Towards the end of the night, Cass got on stage to say a few words. And few it was.

"Thank you all for coming, tonight. Thank you, MDC, for this lovely gown. Have a good time."

The Waynes smiled at their family member's antics.

…..

A few months later, Marinette sat beside a huge pile of clothes in Dicks room, while Damian sat on the couch.

"Dick, sweetie, I am the family designer and consultant, I swear to fucking God if I find one more disco outfit I will throw hands."

Damian snorted and she turned on him.

"Don't think I won't come after you, Wayne. Black on black, really?"

Bruce walked into the room. "Keep it down will you," He whispered furiously, "The babies are sleeping."

After being plastered on the cover of several magazines for the wrong reasons, Lila couldn't find anyone to adopt her baby. Luckily for her, serial adopter Bruce Wayne offered to adopt the baby, on the condition that she agreed to a closed adoption and wouldn't even think about the Wayne's and Marinette, again.

Surprisingly, the baby turned out to be babies. The twins were born 5 minutes apart on different days. Two girls.

They already had Bruce wrapped around their fingers. Although nobody was surprised.

Marinette grabbed the rubbish bag and threw all of Dicks clothes in there.

"Hey!"

Marinette glared at him, "We're going to give these to a charity shop. And then you need a brand new wardrobe."

Bruce sighed, "I'd argue but it's true and it's not like we can't afford it."

"Hey!"

…..

Outfits

Mari

Cass

@daminette-december2019-2020

Thank you @18-fandoms-unite-08 for beta-reading!

Buy me a coffee?

#Daminette December #Day 8 Wind

[lovespelt]

OK I JUST WOKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND MY DREAM WAS REALLY WEIRD AND IT GAVE ME AN INSTANT GOOD KUSH AU—

Ok so— Mermaid and Pirate Au.

BUT—!

mermaids are the size of their fish genetic ×2.

If you're mixed with an angel fish you are the size of a human child when you become adult.

Sharks mixed genetics makes one the size of a average boat, bigger than humans.

Mermaids are mixed with fish genetics ×2 while sirens have simple but colorful tails only (and they're the size of a average human)

Ok now Imagine this—

Whale shark! Mer! Izuku x Pirate! Katsuki

Whale sharks are known to be the most largest sea creature in the ocean, imagine a mermaid twice that size LMAO.

Ok so whale sharks can be the size of a large koi fish when their babies so Izuku would look like an average baby mermaid, he sometimes get mistaken as a siren as a child. (Also a whale shark is very fitting for Izuku coz of— y'know, the dots on the whale sharks.)

Ok BACKSTORY—

Izuku likes to swim near boats as a kid.

Katsuki was born in the ocean, on the boat he was standing on coz both of his parents were pirates too (not mitsuki and masaru, I don't think they're good parents ngl.)

He also wants to be captain one day, leading the best ship and the best crew and all that jazz like his parents, like the legendary pirate who had crossed the 7 seas and lived, All Might.

He was kind of Isolated bcz they were always at sea but he was a pretty smart kid and his parent's crew were nice (ft. The whole UA staff coz why not—)

While Izuku's mom told him that he shouldn't ever go near a island coz Izuku's mom is really big and she could easily be spotted so they stayed in the deep waters. (Aka where the Illuminati thing kinda is, but we'll just call it the 7 seas mmk)

But Izuku is a very curious child, he follows is mother's rule ofc but she never told him to stay away from ships nearby.

So when he saw this really big ship, he was amazed by it. He followed the ship when they steered their sails for a few days, he's still close to his mama so it's ok.

Katsuki notices some kind of thing following their ship for the a while now, even as a child he's pretty sharp. So one night he decided to sneak out of his chambers to the edge of the boat to see if the thing is still there.

He looked down and saw a pair of green glowing eyes. He froze, he didn't what they were, they might be a siren from the books he had read but siren's eyes don't glow. And the creature hasn't even sung yet.

So he decided to approach it.

Izuku was surprised. He had seen this small blond human on the ship lot's of times during the day. He was small. Like him! He wondered if they would make good friends?

And when Katsuki finds out that Izuku was not a siren he was relieved,so when they started talking he was surprised of the amount of human words Izuku's knows (wonder who taught Izuku that—*cough* all might *cough*), but as much as Izuku's human speaking is pretty good it's not enough to make a conversation. So every night, Katsuki sneaks out and hangs with Izuku and taught him how to speak like a human and read human books.

4 weeks, nearing the end of the 7 seas after going around it (no one has ever gone through it without surviving, except all might)

Izuku had learned alot, he could read and speak human! Although not perfect but still can pass! But he's sad now coz he can't come with Katsuki, he had to stay close to his pod with his mom.

Katsuki was devastated when he heard this from his (one and only) fish crush friend, he promised that when he grows up, he'd be the best pirate of all time and he would be the next to cross the 7 seas without going around it and meet up with Deku (that was the closest thing Izuku could pronounce his name in human rather than mer tongue) and go on adventures with him.

Izuku, who cried, promise to stay in the 7 seas and wait for Kacchan (again, hard to pronounce words with Izuku's sharp teeth) to come back. So they pinky promised it and pulled each other close.

Nobody would believe a child when they say that they'd seen a mermaid every night while out in the 7 seas. No one would believe Katsuki when he'd say that he had his first kiss with a fish.

Ok so TIME SKIP.

Katsuki became a really well known pirate in all the ocean. He became the new captain on his parent's ship and improved it. He found a good trusting crew who were very skilled at what they do. (Ft. The whole class 1-A with Shinsou coz why not)

He'd found lot's of treasure and gave it to the poor people on islands. Fought a couple of high ranked bad villains of the sea. To the kingdom's rules around, he was a pirate. But to everyone, he was a hero.

So when the time came, he kind of forgotten his promise to Izuku and thought of those times with Izuku were very wistful dreams.

When his ship came close to the 7seas he decided to go through it like all might and to be the best. Ofc the crew was anxious but they trusted their captain.

But when they reached the one half of it, there were really big waves, everyone panicked. Trying to turn around. Katsuki held the steering wheel tight, trying to turn the ship around. Everyone was running around doing whatever they can to make the sails go to the opposite direction.

Then suddenly.

There was a huge spash.

And a very big shadow wad towering down ship.

Everyone slowly looked up and saw.

The most biggest person (?) They had ever seen.

It had dark-green hair with very round equally green eyes, lot's of freckles spreading on it's upper body, and it had a mouth with very sharp teeth.

A mouth that was smiling.

Like and Angel.

Katsuki became breathless.

The creature looked so familiar, just like—

"...Deku..?"

The creature laughed, eyes twinkled with excitement, it swam really fast to somewhere fast and flipped himself like a dolphin. the pirates looked at him in awe.

"Kacchan! Kacchan came back!" The creature swam back to it's original position near the ship and grabbed Katsuki by the back hem of his shirt, lifting him up the ship.

There were surprised and panicked sounds coming from the crew but Katsuki held his hands up, signaling to stop. Never looking away from Izuku.

Izuku placed Katsuki into one of his very large hands and held him up to his face. Katsuki reached out his arms and touched Izuku's nose.

"you... Fucking dumbass,... How did you get so big?!?" Katsuki exclaimed with pretend anger, not that it was convincing, his face had a smile threatening to break, he slapped Izuku's nose with not force.

Izuku giggled and kissed Katsuki all over his face. (Which. His lips are already all over Katsuki's face LMAO)

"I missed you Kacchan." Izuku smiled, "I love you."

Katsuki blushed and grumbled. Forcefully grabbing what he can on Izuku's cheeks and kissed him on the nose, muttering "I love you too..."

The crew from below the ship were confused, awe and low-key scared by this.

"Uh." Denki said dumbly.

Kirishima whistled "wow. Who knew Bakugro had a lover."

"Hah, a fish none the less too, no judgement though." Kyouka snorted.

"well I think they look cute together!" Ochako exclaimed.

"maybe this is why Bakugou wanted to cross the 7 seas? To see his one true love once again~." Sero said, while still looking at the huge ass fish carrying their captain.

"Uh." Kaminari said dumbly. Again.

•°•°•°°•°•°••

Aojxnsjfkekc it's really late and my brain made it look like a fanfic ckenfjkkfv hshshshs hope you like?? It?? Sorry if there is any spelling mistakes! I'm really tired haha. Hope you like this weird ass Au I made.

sdjakjdhas this is such a cute and creative au??? i love whale sharks so much also, so izuku in this au makes me extra happy 😊!

#lovespelt.asks #scar-queen-owl