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kaizenproductions · 6 days

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Natsu does NOT have any previous experience with romantic love

This is the (better) Tumblr version of my post from Twitter. Given the format of this website, I'll add some details to what's already written.

Before starting with this, I want to clarify that the motivation to write this post has little to do with nalu itself (it will be mentioned to highlight a point though). Having previous romantic partners DOESN'T really make any ship invalid. You'll find the actual reason behind this essay under the cut below.

This is about how Natsu, as a character, is never presented or seen by others as someone who has experience with love and such idea is never hinted or implied anywhere in the canon material. This lack of experience explains why Lucy thinks he has no interest in it.

As we will see later, Lucy isn't the only one who thinks like this... Let's get started.

Year 2024. Why writing all this? Some weeks ago I was involved in a discussion about whether Natsu was being OOC during a filler (non canon) scene of the anime where he snaps at Lucy in a way he never does with any of his friends in canon material. The discussion led to this...

I didn't want to assume that this person was taking Lisanna as some kind of first love. At the end it turned out that was exactly what was happening. The proof? The most platonic reunion ever... with Happy reacting the same way as Natsu and comedy being included. It is important to highlight that Mashima never makes two people between whom there have been romantic feelings reunite like this, with comedy references in between that downplays the seriousness of the moment to some extent. While this post is about Natsu and his feelings, I could also mention Lisanna's reaction to this, something that proves that there wasn't even a one sided love: after noticing this Natsu is the same one from her real dimension, she doesn't start crying because of him but because of her siblings.

Let's ignore the part where this dude started calling me and some other users "retards" because that speaks volumes for itself about his lack of real arguments. After all, he has been fighting for at least 4 years with teens over power scaling, a topic he may seem to be knowledgeable about but actually isn't so much, plus he has been banned from at least one Discord server because of his r4pe threats. It seems this individual was so obsessed with that specific thing that he said Zeref did it to Mavis and that's how August was made... That also speaks volumes about his media literacy and the fact that even if it's true that he did read the manga so many times as he claimed during this discussion, he has serious problems with reading as a normal person. When it comes to the topic of this post, the problem is that he has some influence within the fandom, at least on Twitter, so whatever he says is something that many of his followers will start repeating.

What does Mashima do when Lisanna finally comes back to her original home and she gets a proper reunion with everyone?

After the initial shock from seeing Edo Lisanna in Earthland and the big reveal, this is how Natsu reacts.

This isn't a reunion that suggests that Lisanna is special compared to everyone else in the guild, and particulary to those who grew around Natsu. Also, we can't say Mashima just doesn't know how to write such scene properly... because he's written it at least once (in Rave).

The emotion you can feel in this scene, the way ONLY both lovers are on the spotlight and the rest of their friends are in the background until the end... Well, the difference is so obvious that it's ridiculous to say more. Given how well Mashima handles the emotional dimension of his characters in his mangas, the possibility that he didn't know how to depict two lovers who got separated from each for some time due to circumstances beyond their control is off the table.

Also, notice how the end of the Edolas arc depicts this.

The difference with her reunion with Natsu and the others is so obvious that there's no need to say more.

We can also discard Lisanna as a former love interest because there's no akwardness between them once she's back to the guild. They can be seen playing together and briefly interacting from time to time, so it's not like they're avoiding each other.

Is it implied somewhere that they had something beyond friendship? Not in any kind of canon material. Every time Lisanna is mentioned in regards to Natsu she's presented as a close childhood friend. We have, for example, her profile from one of the first chapters where she's back home and the information of the official magazine that was released 10 years ago.

But what if they simply stopped loving each other due to being separated, as a fellow nalu shipper told me on Discord? Making characters fall out of love is something that Mashima also references (see Macao pic a bit below). It also goes against what we saw regarding Erza and Jellal, who still had romantic feelings for each other despite their antagonistic positions for many years, or against the whole Zeref and Mavis thing. In other Mashima mangas we have more couples like this. Elsie and Justice still loved each other despite being sworn enemies, and Let still loved Julia (and vice versa) when he discovered she was alive, a kinda similar scenario to Natsu and Lisanna if they had been lovers. Given that Natsu and Lisanna weren't even enemies to each other at any point and they were only separated for two years, we can't say they had something canonically and they simply got over it with no actual reference to it.

There was a very good moment to reference past feelings in 100YQ: when Touka includes Lisanna in the group of women "around Natsu".

Instead of offering us a comment like "it's not like that anymore", Lisanna just says something that implies they're not that close. After all, Natsu is hanging out with his team most of the time since it was established.

What's the reason this fandom has been so many years discussing about this friendship? Because the first anime adaptation goes beyond that friendship and the manga omake where both of them take care of Happy's egg, something Lisanna decides to help with because she loves animals and she felt Natsu wouldn't do it properly. The first season includes several fillers that pave the way for a love triangle, presenting Lisanna as a girl who is VERY interested in marrying Natsu when they're adults. In addition, Happy is presented as their son, something that totally goes against the source material. Even if Natsu is the one who saw Happy be born and was living with him since then, Happy is never considered as his son and is always called a nakama/companion/friend.

This long thread has everything that A-1 and Satelight added in regards to Natsu and Lisanna. As we can see in the info provided in one of the first tweets, Mashima let them "edit" the story the way they wanted to and it's mentioned explicitely by both him and Ishihara (the director) that Ishihara is responsible for those additions, not Mashima. We also can't say the additions were something Mashima asked for because he couldn't include everything he wanted in his manga for some reason. This is supported by the fact that Lisanna is never presented in the manga as any kind of romantic interest after she comes back.

It's also important to say that these fillers aren't canon: they're not referenced in the source material (the starry key arc was, even if Mashima wasn't involved in the writing), they're not referenced in the anime itself after Lisanna comes back and they have no impact in the events of the story during and after Edolas.

Currently, thanks to Mashima's Twitter Spaces, we know two things: he revived Lisanna because some people in the anime staff liked her (Ishihara is one of them for sure), which explains why she's not very relevant and is always tied to her siblings, and he once considered to include a love triangle between Natsu, Lucy and Lisanna after Edolas, but he liked Natsu and Lucy's dynamic by then enough to not introduce such storyline. He also said Lisanna was "だめ" in regards to that triangle that never came to be, implying that she would have been the one that doesn't get the boy in that scenario.

So is Lisanna our supposed former love interest? As far as the canon material goes, no. Was she close to Natsu? Yes. Is she dear to him? Yes, just like everyone in his family, the guild, is (I can't believe I'm writing this in fking 2024). Now, what if there was someone else? The assumption that characters may have dated another (unnamed) character offscreen isn't totally crazy. After all we saw how Juvia dated Bora, even if it was a narrative tool to show that not even dates would make Juvia stop being depressed. However, we can't say there was someone else as more than a headcanon unless it's implied or mentioned somewhere explicitely. We know Macao was married but got divorced thanks to the official magazine, for example.

When it comes to Natsu, nothing is ever mentioned.

100YQ, the official FT sequel, has several pannels that go against the whole idea of Natsu being experienced with romantic love. As I mentioned at the beginning, even others from the guild, and especifically Macao in this pannel, who knows Natsu since he was a kid, have a hard time believing he's interested in love.

This part of the story includes a very interesting pannel that also debunks the whole idea that Natsu felt more than frienship for Lisanna before she was transported to Edolas.

Why would Lisanna's brother react like this over such comment if Natsu and his sister had romantic feelings in the past? Easy: because those feelings never existed.

Even Lisanna is a bit surprised when Touka expresses her interest in him.

Previous romantic experience would also mean that Natsu's relationship with Lucy would be more advanced than it is as of now, not to mention this recent scene.

Natsu is still quite dense with romance, even when it doesn't involve him, and while he talks about his and Lucy's kids they still have a long way to go due to his total inexperience in this area as of now. Someone with past love experiences wouldn't be like this. I could say more about this but this isn't the post for it so...

Conclussion: the first season of the anime did a lot of damage that resulted in many years of discussions, fights, misogyny towards both Lucy and Lisanna. There was no childhood or teen love, no jealousy from Lisanna when she saw how close Natsu and Lucy were as a team and nothing suggests that Lisanna was more than a friend in canon material. Claiming the opposite at this point of the story is useless.

#fairytail #natsudragneel

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thedysphoriadiaries · 11 months

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Entry 52 - 24 May 2023, 1:38am

Instinctively flinch away from a mirror Brain: Look at yourself Why? B: Just do it and see what you feel Ok I look like shit, what are you trying to prove??

Those were the words of someone else in the trans-centric server that I'm in.

If the statistic of a 0.06% prevalence holds (actually, it's anywhere from <0.1% to 0.6%, as observed in the US, but I'll just say, to be safe, that it's a 0.06% prevalence), and if the server really is only accepting of the local demographic, that would place me as one of 2100 possible people, in the country.

Yet, I can't help but refuse to believe that the stuff I felt, and have been feeling, for the past 13 years, make me a part of this demographic.

...

I think about him quite a lot now.

Yes, that's me, about three years ago, at a reunion dinner.

Yet, it almost seems as if I don't recognize him anymore. But I don't know if I am faking it, or am just trying to run from the truth of who I am, whether I'm a cis guy or something else, like a trans person, or trans-curious person.

I wouldn't know it yet, but, I'd meet a girl when I turned seventeen, and begin a relationship with her. I would eventually begin to feel some form of resentment directed towards her, and some form of dysphoria towards my sexed parts and my identity, in comparison with hers.

And eventually, the levee would break. I would wake up with the sole thought that filled my mind up.

I don't want to be a guy anymore.

...

Yet, there was a time when I was okay with being a guy.

There was a time when I was inspired to be like the other guys, or at least, that was a time when I didn't try to run away from my inherent masculinity.

There was a time when I made dick jokes, and 'your mom' jokes.

There was a time when I sheepishly flipped through Dad's old stash of Playboy and Penthouse magazines.

There was a time when I questioned if I was gay.

There was a time if I questioned if I was a femboy.

There was a time when I found the hair growing on my body a little amusing.

There was a time when I felt somewhat proud of my body, and my sexuality, as a guy.

...

With my hair gone, I feel like him all over again.

I feel like the boy who understood that girls were ultimately different from him.

I feel like the boy who wanted to be a girl, or to at least look like, or be like one of them, only to be told that he couldn't, and had to be a boy.

I feel like the boy who tried to be empathetic towards his girlfriend, whom he knew was on her period, but failing, as he barely contained his overwhelming excitement and/or curiosity over what periods were like.

I feel like the boy who was told that he should have found a better way to express his interest in his potential love interest, back when he was grappling with the intense waves of euphoria that hit him when he got to know more about the girl he was interested in, and expressed it in questionable ways.

I feel like the boy who was angry at how he would never get to experience the same things that women would, simply because of the way they were born.

I feel like the boy who was there when his father stood next to the headmaster of the studentcare center he went to, and told the headmaster that his brother, and he, played with toys meant for little girls (they were little Angry Bird plushies).

I feel like the boy who knew he was different, but could never find the language, emotion, or conviction to voice that out.

I feel like the boy who pored over the pages of his textbook, feeling a strange tingle in his chest, as he read through the content about the female reproductive system.

I feel like the boy who wondered if men could get pregnant. (I did find a case of a trans man getting pregnant, but I just... knew that I was different from him, I guess. I knew I didn't have the parts to raise a life within me.)

...

But it's something I've had to deal with quite a bit.

And, it's funny. Hilariously so, almost. One moment, I remember living in a world where everyone was telling me stuff like this:

You're not allowed to do this.

This is for little girls.

Man up.

You're a young man.

And now that I feel my resentment towards a girl for her ability to be a girl, I get bombarded with these instead:

Oh, but guys can do those things that girls do, too.

Stop fantasizing about what it would be like to be a girl.

It's just a phase.

It's social contagion.

Just think about other things.

Stop comparing yourself with others. (BY GOD THIS IS HOW MY MIND WORKS YOU WANT ME TO JUST IGNORE IT????? I JUST WANT TO BE NORMAL/HAPPY)

It's honestly fucking hilarious how, even in the face of pain, everybody just steps in your face again, the moment you try to establish an identity that isn't based exactly in their observations of you.

It's fucking hilarious, in an unexpectedly depressing way.

Ah Xiang (that's half of my chinese name, which I'm fine with), you're a really strong boy. You're a fighter.

I chose to be like this. It was a choice. It was a choice between seeing the people around me get let down, or me stepping up to be there for them.

I couldn't live with myself if I let them be let down.

But I'm tired.

I have neglected myself.

...

And now I don't even know who's inside me anymore.

Lynn, old me, cis (but massively misinformed) guy, trans girl, GNC guy, who cares anymore?

Does anything matter when you look at yourself and not recognize who you are, at times? (I might be spouting nonsense and gibberish but take it from me; I've been thinking about these things so much that I've literally taken to ranting and venting to unknown strangers on the internet, so, take that with a grain of salt)

...

I'm tired.

Remove the desire to be a girl from me, and I wouldn't know who I would become.

Remove the guy from me, and I wouldn't know who I would have been.

...

Either way, it'll be his face I see in the scanner tomorrow, when I clock in at work.

But, he is me, the same way I am her. It wouldn't be fair to say that he is something entirely separate from me.

I almost don't want to do it.

But I have to.

...

cool songs

#Spotify

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seijorhi · 3 years

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Rabid.

The brainrot was real, guys. Hope you like it :))

Kyoutani Kentarou x female reader

tw blood, violence, implied minor character death, non-con, smut, nsfw

There’s blood splattered across the back of his hands the first time you make the unwitting mistake of catching Kyoutani’s attention. He usually can’t be fucked wasting time wrapping his fists; the skin across one of his knuckles is split and raw from his last job, but most of the blood isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

But he wouldn’t have noticed – it comes with the territory and he’s never really given a fuck whether there’s blood on his clothes or not – if it hadn’t been for that tiny gasp.

That soft, sharp little intake of breath, and like the rabid dog they claim he is, he snaps to the threat.

Nobody else at the table notices, and you seem to realise your mistake, freezing up the moment those honey brown eyes flash and zero in on you. Your throat bobs unsteadily – you look like a deer caught in headlights. Startled. Terrified.

Kinda fuckin’ adorable, if he’s being honest.

“I– I’m sorry, sir,” you mutter, ducking your head as you set down his drink with a tremor in your hand.

Vaguely, he registers Makki’s choked snort at the honorific – nobody’s ever called him sir before – but he can’t really find it in himself to give a fuck that the two of you have drawn an audience.

Not when you’re still frozen, hardly daring to draw breath at his side.

You’re new, that much is painfully obvious, but not stupid. You know who he is – who they are, and despite his reputation, he’s never been one to get off on fear or some fucked up version of a power trip; Kyoutani simply likes the feeling of lashing out, beating the absolute shit out of some asshole just because he can.

Because it feels good, gets his blood pumping.

Nobody would lift a finger to help you if he decided to take offence to your little slip up. And truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit – he’s used to people being on edge around him and it’s not like you’ve reacted any other way than how you’re supposed to.

It’s natural for you to be startled, scared even. But not here, not with them. Here you should know better, because here is filled to the fucking brim with men like Kyoutani. Oh sure, they might be prettier, polished and charming like Oikawa, but you’d have to be a goddamn idiot to think the man hasn’t stepped over bodies he’s put in the ground to get where he is.

At least Kyoutani never has to pretend to be anything other than what he is.

But a little blood in a place like this shouldn’t raise an eyebrow, and the way you’re staring at the table, eyes cast down and wide; Kyoutani can almost hear you cursing yourself out for your own stupidity. And it strikes him as he stares at you, drinking in every subtle shift in your body language, wondering why you don’t just tuck tail and run off like you so clearly want to, that you really don't belong in a place like this.

“Something the matter, Mad Dog?” a silken voice purrs, and he tears his eyes away from your trembling form to glance back at his boss, sitting at the head of the table. The brunette’s smiling idly, appraising the two of you and Kyoutani feels you stiffen beside him.

You don’t dare open your mouth, don’t so much as twitch, not even as Kyoutani returns his attention back to you. By now the entire table has quietened down, most if not all of the gathered men staring at you and you – pretty eyes filling with tears, hands clasped together and trembling in front of your dress – look like you just want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. And somewhat selfishly, there’s a part of Kyoutani that wants to keep you there like that.

Not afraid, exactly. Just… there.

He can’t explain it, doesn’t know why he hasn’t just told you to fuck off back to the kitchen, dismissed you with a grunt like he would have if any of the other servers had made the same mistake. He has bigger shit to worry about than some perceived fucking offence, but he finds himself pausing, drawing this little moment out for a lifetime before finally putting an end to it, “No.”

He jerks his chin, breaking the moment between the two of you to reach for the drink you’d set down before him, but still you don’t move, glancing between him and Oikawa like you’re afraid to move – as if you’re terrified that you’ve read this situation wrong and one wrong step and you’ll just make things worse. It’s so fucking endearing that he almost snorts, but it takes Oikawa’s voice, calm and level and almost kind to shake you out of your frozen state, “Run along now, cutie.”

You scamper off without a backwards glance, and if anybody notices Kyoutani watching you out of the corner of his eye while he nurses his drink, they have the better sense to keep their mouths shut about it.

And honest to god, it’s the last he expects to see of you. He’s not so stupid as to think you landed the job because you genuinely wanted it; people don’t end up in places like this because they have choices, they end up here because somebody somewhere along the line fucked up.

This city’s filthy, full of irredeemable pieces of shit like him and it takes innocence like yours, chews it up and spits it out. If you were smart, you would have left after your little run-in with him, so why the fuck are you right back in their private room less than a week later, nails biting into your palm and resolutely refusing to meet his eye?

Oikawa’s busy rattling off a list of drinks he wants, but this time it’s Kyoutani who’s frozen in place, staring at you with a scowl that has you shivering even as you nod at the Oyabun. He knows Iwaizumi at least is watching him with some kind of morbid combination of curiosity and concern, can’t find it within him to care as you try and slip from the room, giving him as wide a berth as you can without it seeming rude–

Not wide enough. Before he even registers that he’s moved Kyoutani’s reaching out to grab your forearm – his grip not tight enough to hurt, just to stop you from running off on him again. And the little squeak that leaves your soft looking lips sends a ripple of something electric jolting down his spine, but you know better than to try and pull away.

God, he can feel your pulse racing beneath your skin, every terrified thump of your heart. It’s addictive, he thinks, the feeling he gets just from touching you.

“Gimme a beer,” he grunts, waiting until you finally meet his eye.

The nervous little nod you give strokes some part of him he hadn’t realised existed. Kyoutani likes you like this; all timid and obedient. A little too much, maybe.

There’s a sharp elbow in his side courtesy of Yahaba, and he reluctantly releases his grip on you, leaving you to scamper away once more. Cute.

Yahaba makes some snarky comment under his breath and he barely fucking registers it, fixated instead on the skin of his palm; still warm and tingling from your touch. His hands are rough, scarred and calloused, the skin over his knuckles split from another job last night, a little red and bruised – even as he tightens his fingers into a fist they sting just a little.

Guns have their purpose, he’s not against a knife if he’s feeling particularly fucking vindictive, but Kyoutani’s favourite has always been his fists. There’s something about the feeling of skin and muscle giving way beneath his blows, taking all that pent up rage and aggression and letting loose with his fists. It’s a kind of euphoria he’s never found anywhere else; not in women or men or drugs or alcohol. Nothing comes close to the feeling he gets straddling some pathetic piece of shit and beating the absolute fucking crap out of him.

Sometimes if he goes a few days without a fight, he gets a little jittery. Not like the tweakers do, it’s not withdrawal so much as… a building up of restless, rabid energy. He gets on edge, snaps more, lashing out over petty shit until some poor asshole makes the mistake of looking at him the wrong way and Kyoutani just fucking looses it.

He feels it now, that same burning itch under his skin. He’s never thought of his hands as anything more weapons, but touching you, the warmth of your skin, how smooth and soft it was–

Kyoutani wants to do it again. Wants to touch more of you. And he’s not so fucked up yet that he doesn’t realise how twisted this all is, how a guy like him doesn’t belong within a thousand miles of some sweet, cute innocent thing like you. But the world ain’t fucking fair; you’re here and for whatever reason Oikawa’s taken a liking to you and so whenever they’re at the club, you’re the one management send to make sure they’re happy.

And Kyoutani wonders, golden eyes burning a hole into your back as you hastily clear away their empty glasses, whether you realise that if any one of them asked for a dance or for you to get on your knees and blow them, you’d be expected to do that, too.

You might as well be on Seijoh’s payroll now, just be thankful that as far as that side of things go, they’re not the monsters that the rumours make them out to be.

Not that he hasn’t noticed Mattsun’s gaze drifting to your ass when you lean over the table to grab something, the older man shooting him a salacious wink when he notices he’s glaring.

Not that he hasn’t let his own imagination take hold, leaning up against the glass wall of his shower first thing in the morning. His fist pumping along his throbbing cock, wondering what it’d be like to see you on your knees, those pretty eyes full of tears, staring up at him as you swallow him down like the good girl he knows you are.

The thing is, he’s never made all that much of an effort to hide his feelings from the others. He doesn’t give a shit if it makes him the butt of their jokes, doesn’t care what they think about the way he watches you – his attention snapping towards you the moment you slip past the door, purposefully trying to avoid his gaze. Not that it ever does you much good.

Oikawa hasn’t said shit, and that’s enough of a go-ahead as Kyoutani needs. It’s none of their fucking business anyway.

You’ve managed to get under his skin, push him to the fucking brink when he goes more than a few days without seeing you. He knows you don’t want any part of this; that you’re still fucking terrified of him. Kyoutani’s never been one to chase after somebody who wants nothing to do with him – there are plenty of women more than willing to spread their legs for Seijoh’s big bad Mad Dog if he wants an itch scratched. There’s no good reason why he can’t get you out of his head, why you’ve sunk your teeth into him and refuse to let go – even when it’s clear that that’s so fucking far from what you intended with the blonde.

It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, it doesn’t change shit; you’re his, whether you’re willing to acknowledge that or not.

And maybe he’s just living with his head up his ass, but he doesn’t quite realise how fucking inadequate this whole arrangement is until he needs a piss one night and ventures out into the club only to see some asshole trying to cop a feel and tug you down to his lap, his friends drunk and howling with laughter as you try to politely escape them.

Distantly he registers that he recognises the piece of shit as some low level fucking drug lord who’s been all but sucking Oikawa’s dick trying to get a bigger piece of the pie, but in that moment, he honestly doesn’t give a fuck who he is.

Kyoutani just sees red.

Nostrils flaring, steam practically pouring from his ears, he storms over. And adrenaline’s surging through him with every pounding beat of his heart, every synapse in his body’s electrified, ready to lay into this piece of shit for daring to lay a finger on what’s his.

He wants to beat him bloody, wants to fuck up his face – to whale on him until muscle and bone give way and there’s nothing left but bloody pulp where his head used to be. Him and his fucking friends.

But Kyoutani has his priorities, and he reaches you first, grabbing you by your elbow and ripping you away from them, a muscled arm curling protectively around your waist. And he’s deaf to whatever protests you have, to the excuses the pieces of crap in front of him offer up, can’t hear a goddamn thing over the pounding in his head as he fixes them with a snarl and all but drags you back to their room, shoving you less than gently in through the door.

“Stay here, don’t move until I get back,” he orders, and he loves you, he does, but when you open your mouth to argue, something inside of him tightens and snaps. He grabs you by the jaw, jerking your face up as he crowds in over you, golden eyes ablaze, “Not a fucking muscle, understand?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, crashing his lips down on yours to steal the kiss he’s been waiting fucking weeks for before stalking back out.

Kyoutani is beyond caring about ramifications, Oikawa’s always given him a fairly loose leash to do as he pleases and if this is what puts an end to that so fucking be it; he’ll take you and go. But he hears Iwa and Mattsun on his heels and neither one of them are trying to stop him as he storms back towards the drug lord and his little cronies, so he figures the boss ain’t too fucking bothered with what he’s about to do.

And maybe if he’d had a clearer head, he might’ve found it funny how quickly the floor clears when he vaults the couch, grabs the asshole by the front of his silk shirt and heaves him forward, sending him careening face first into a table full of drinks.

With the taste of you on his lips, the memory of this piece of shit’s hands all over you, Kyoutani doesn’t hold back.

The others are gone by the time he, Iwa and Mattsun return, it’s just Oikawa casually leaning back in his seat, you sitting rigidly in the one beside him, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair.

Kyoutani’s eyes flicker tensely between the two of you – he’s still on edge, still not right. He needs something more to feed that rabid fucking monster lurking beneath his skin, and his Oyabun knows it.

Oikawa smiles genially, patting your knee for just a moment (and oh, how Kyoutani hates the flash of jealous rage that rears its ugly head when he leans over and whispers something in your ear) before standing up.

“Mad Dog,” he says, eyeing him with a shrewd look he recognises all too well. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He nods at the two behind him and without another word the three of them exit, no doubt to try and smooth over the mess he’d just made.

Leaving Kyoutani alone with you.

And there’s a part of him that’s pissed off, because this was always gonna happen, but fuck, he was gonna make an effort. He’d wanted it to be nice for you… romantic, or at least as romantic as somebody like him was capable of.

You deserve that much.

His blood’s still thrumming, remnants of blind fury and jealousy and possessive need still burning through his veins. The fight wasn’t enough to sate him; it should’ve been – he’d left them in fucking pieces – but then again you’ve been toeing this line for a long, long time, and Kyoutani’s patience only goes so far.

He should at least take you back to his apartment, try and salvage this disaster of a night, but he knows deep down he can’t make himself walk out of here with you without taking what he needs.

He’s still not entirely in control, breathing hard as he stares at you, watches you fiddle with your hands in your lap, refusing to meet his gaze. “Stand up,” he says, his voice a rough growl.

On shaking legs, you obey, eyes flickering towards the doorway behind him, and distantly he wonders what you’re thinking. You’re foolishly naive, he’ll admit that much, but he doesn’t think you’re stupid. You know where this is going, and you must know that there is nobody and nothing that’s gonna stop what’s about to happen. Not even you.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and now he’s the one to draw in an unsteady breath. “Strip.”

You blanch, eyes widening in pure panic. And there’s a part of him that feels guilty, that knows he’s scaring you right now and hates himself for it, but any chance of rationality winning out fled the moment he saw somebody else put their hands all over you.

“Strip,” he repeats when you make no move to start taking your clothes off. “Or I’ll rip that pretty fucking dress off myself.”

Kyoutani adores that little catch in your breath, the way you bite down on your bottom lip as you give in, meekly reaching for the zipper at your back.

You’re so fucking beautiful, every mouthwatering inch of you. Tentatively, you glance up at him after your dress hits the floor, as if you’re hoping that that’ll be enough, that he doesn’t want to see all of you. Any other time, and the sight of you in your matching set of lingerie might’ve been enough to calm him, but it’s not what he needs tonight.

His scowl deepens, and you’re clever enough to read between the lines. Your bra goes first, pretty lace panties joining the small pile of clothes on the floor a moment later.

Good girl.

His eyes darken as he stares, hungrily taking you in. Soft tits, nipples pebbling under the cool air, he’s dying to touch them, suck on them, mark them up nice and fuckin’ pretty. The gentle swell of your ass, smooth, supple thighs he can’t wait to get his hands on, and that cute little cunt of yours, all his. His to play with, his to tease, his to claim. Fuck, this is better than all the images he’s conjured up of you in the heat of the moment, stroking his cock to get off with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. He wants to compliment you, tell you how perfect you are, how cute you are – trembling naked in front of him, but he’s beyond words right now, hanging onto his control by a fucking thread as his cock twitches in his pants, all that blood rushing south.

You look like you’re about to burst into tears as you swallow, taking in a quick, hitching breath. “Kyoutani,” you begin in a soft, tiny voice–

And that last little thread snaps.

He’s on you before you can stop him, spinning you around and roughly slamming your hips up against the table. There’s no time to be soft or gentle, no time to even take off his pants, he just shoves them down to his thighs and reaches for his cock.

Fuck, he’d wanted to eat you out, to stuff you full of his fingers and make you cum on them first, get you nice and stretched out, but he’s still too wound up. Kyoutani needs to be buried inside of you, needs to fuck you – he’ll make it up to you afterwards, he swears it.

He’ll treat you like a fucking princess, just be good for him now.

And the scream that shatters that calm night air should tear at him – he doesn’t want to hurt you, not ever, it’s his job to protect you – but he can’t focus on that when your pussy’s clamping down around his fat cock, a dizzying heat enveloping him as your walls flutter and squeeze against the unwanted intrusion.

It feels like fucking heaven. Kyoutani’s hands are everywhere; your tits, your ass, squeezing reassuringly at your hip when a broken sob leaves your lips. And he’s kissing at your shoulders, nuzzling at your neck even as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, desperate to be as close to you as he can as his hips draw back and he pounds back in, grunting like a beast in heat.

He fucks you savagely, your hips slamming against the table with every thrust – there’ll be bruises no doubt, but he’ll look after those too. He swears to fucking god, he’ll take such good care of you. You’re gonna be his girl. You are his girl.

It’s easier than it should be to drown out your agonised cries and pleas for him to slow down, to chase his own pleasure within your tight, wet heat, his cock ramming up against your cervix with every stroke.

He loves you, loves the feeling of being inside of you – fuck, Kyoutani doesn’t think he ever wants to leave. His fingers find your clit and you cry out, a shudder wracking your body that almost has him seeing stars with the way your pussy tightens and convulses around him in response. He loses his rhythm as he nears his end, hips jackrabbiting into your poor, abused cunt as his balls tighten.

You’re slick now, cunt drooling around him as he fucks you hard and fast, lewd slaps echoing out with every brutal thrust. Kyoutani knows he’s holding you too tight, knows it’s probably hurting but he can’t fucking care when he’s so close and you feel so fucking good–

His teeth sink into your neck as that blinding pleasure takes hold; his entire body seizing up, abs tightening as his orgasm slams into him. Kyoutani cums with a hissed snarl, crushing you against him as thick, warm spurts fill your perfect little cunt right up. He fucks you through it, a slow, lazy grind of his hips against yours as he milks his orgasm for all it’s worth, pressing gentle, soothing kisses along your collarbone while you sniffle and sob pathetically.

“Love you,” he grunts quietly – truthfully – letting your exhausted body collapse back against the table. And it’s now he regrets not having taken you home to do this on an actual bed, just so he could lie you down somewhere soft afterwards and curl up beside you.

Still, there’s not much he can do but try and comfort you as best he can, rough fingers running soothingly up and down your back as he waits for you to calm down. He pauses after a moment though, staring oddly at his hands.

There’s blood smeared across his skin, caked under his nails, splattered up his tattooed forearms. And Kyoutani can’t help the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips as he leans over to kiss your shoulder again, his cock still stuffed inside of you.

Most of it isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kyoutani #yandere kyoutani x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou #tw blood #tw violence #tw implied minor character death #tw non con #i love the angry tennis ball

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theladyofdeath · 3 years

Text

Life As We Know It {Prologue}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both Shelby and I’s blogs! >> @snelbz

We hope you all enjoy. :)

Cassian knew very little about Nesta Archeron, but he knew one thing for certain: she was hot as hell.

He had sworn he’d never go on another blind date, but Rhysand had begged, over and over again, for him to go out with the eldest sister of his girlfriend. So, to shut his brother up, Cassian agreed.

Reluctantly, but nonetheless.

He took a quick shower where he bathed himself in a new bottle of body wash before stepping out and towel-drying his hair. Considering Nesta was Feyre’s sister, he felt the need to make a good first impression, although he wasn’t sure what a good impression was to Nesta Archeron.

He was hoping he was sufficient enough.

He dressed in his usual attire of jeans and old boots, but decided to wear a button up for once, rather than one of his go-to t-shirts. Still, he pulled on his leather jacket and grabbed his keys before hurrying out the door.

He typed the address Rhys had texted him into his gps, seeing the drive was going to take him nearly twenty minutes longer than he’d anticipated, thanks to an accident on the interstate.

He swore under his breath, throwing his truck into motion. He hurried across town and parked in front of Nesta’s townhouse, fifteen minutes later than he was supposed to. Flipping down his sun visor, Cassian ran a quick hand through his loose hair and was heading up to the front door, knocking twice.

Or he would have, if the door wasn’t pulled open the second his fist made contact with it.

Suddenly, in his jeans and leather jacket, he felt extremely underdressed.

Nesta Archeron wore a beautifully fitted dark blue dress that fell only a couple inches above her knees. She wore heels, and her hair was curled. A silver clutch was gripped tightly in her hand.

She eyed Cassian, from the top of his head to his toes. For once, even though he was half a foot taller than she, even in heels, Cassian felt smaller than shit.

“Hey,” he said, at last, once the silence became unbearably awkward.

“You’re Cassian?” she asked.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he shot back.

Nesta’s lips thinned. “You’re late,” she said, instead.

“At least I came,” he grinned. “Hungry?”

Nesta took a deep breath as she lifted her chin. “I suppose so.”

“Good,” he said, gesturing toward his running truck. “Let’s go. I made reservations.”

She locked her door and followed him down the sidewalk. “Are we going to be late for those, too?”

Cassian elected not to answer her, pausing at the passenger door and opening it for her. He let out a sigh as he rounded the truck to his own seat.

Something told him this was going to be a long night.

He was absolutely right.

Not a single word was said on the way to the restaurant across town, and, by some grace of the Cauldron, they made it on time for their reservations.

They were set at a table by the entrance quickly, and once their server arrived, Nesta ordered a glass of wine, while Cassian stuck with his usual beer.

“So,” Cassian began, clearing his throat as they waited for their drinks to arrive. “What should I know about you, Nesta?”

“That’s it?” she asked, brow raised. “That’s the question you’ll begin with?”

Cassian’s head fell to the side. “What question should I have gone with?”

Nesta took a moment to look around the bustling restaurant. “Well, you’ve yet to tell me how beautiful I look, or ask me how I’m doing tonight.”

Cassian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine. You look nice. How are you?”

Nesta snorted. “Well, I waited twenty minutes for my date, thinking he wasn’t coming. Other than that, fine, I guess.”

“You don’t do this often, do you?” Cassian asked. There was nothing accusatory in his tone, just simple curiosity.

“Do what?” Nesta asked, the words nearly clipped.

“Date,” Cassian replied, simply. “Go out with someone for the first time.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No. I don’t particularly have a lot of free time to waste.”

Cassian’s eyebrows rose at her choice of words. “You don’t have to be here, you know?”

The server quietly returned to the table, setting their drinks down, before hurrying away, sensing the tension between the two. Nesta’s eyes didn’t leave him the whole time. She picked up her wine glass, taking a long drink, before she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you clearly would rather be anywhere but here,” Cassian replied, leaning back in his seat. “I’d hate to waste your time.”

She was about to reply when a voice came from their left.

“Cassian?”

He looked over his shoulder to find an old friend - a term that he used very, very loosely.

Tanwyn and he had a very complicated relationship. They were friends - at least, they had been at one time. It had all become very complicated the first time he had invited her into his bed.

And the second time.

And the third.

And every time after that.

He smiled at her, almost hesitantly. “Hey, Tan. What are you doing here?”

“Here with some friends,” she grinned, approaching their table. “And you?”

“Here with…” Cassian’s voice trailed off as he looked across the table. “This is Nesta Archeron. Nesta, this is Tanwyn-.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nesta said, words clipped. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re on a date.”

She blinked, taken aback at Nesta’s cold greeting. “Right… Sorry to interrupt. I’ll see you later, Cass.” She nodded to Nesta. “Nice to meet you.”

She was gone before Cassian could say another word, and he looked at Nesta incredulously.

She raised her glass before putting it to her lips. “So when is the last time you slept with her?”

Cassian was stunned, shaking his head. “She’s a friend, there was no reason to be rude.”

“My question still stands.” Nesta folded her hands on the table, her eyes on Cassian’s.

“How do you even know-? What are you, a psychologist?”

“No, I’m a chef,” she said, glaring at him. “But you show everything on that pretty little face of yours. It was easy to read.”

He closed his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “We just need to…start over. This is all going wrong.”

Nesta stayed quiet before finally nodding. “Fine.”

The server picked that time to return, the two of them ordering their food, and the awkward first date conversation began again.

“I have to be honest,” Cassian began. “I’m not sure where to even begin.”

“Your name would be fine,” Nesta said, sipping from her glass.

Cassian watched her for a moment to make sure she was serious before saying, “Cassian Nazari. Childhood friend of Rhys’.”

“And your occupation?” she asked, in all seriousness.

“I’m a bartender,” Cassian said.

Nesta stared at him for a moment before asking, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously, and before you make any judgements, bartenders make damn good money,” Cassian said.

“Interesting,” Nesta said, watching him intently.

“Right,” Cassian muttered. “Now, will you give me some insight into you or should I beg?”

Nesta rolled her eyes before saying, “I’m Nesta. And, yes, lie I said, I’m a chef. I’ve got a little restaurant in the Square”

“That sounds…interesting,” he said, repeating her words. “And your Feyre’s sister?”

“I am,” she said, pausing as the server brought out salads and she began to eat hers, without any dressing.

Cassian, on the other hand, nearly drowned his in ranch dressing. He watched as she ate her plain lettuce. “That looks…boring.”

“Salad dressing is fattening. It negates all of the goodness of the salad.” She took another bite, chewing and looking at him, then his salad swimming in ranch. “You look like you take care of yourself, I’m surprised you don’t watch what you eat as well.”

He scoffed. “I work out, but I’m not going to be miserable and eat rabbit food.” He gestured to the bowl in front of her.

She rolled her eyes, but continued to eat her rabbit food.

Silence grew between them but neither of them attempted to break it. It wasn’t until their main courses arrived that Cassian nodded toward the cursive ink on the inside of her wrist.

“You have a tattoo,” he said.

She eyed the ink that swirled around his arms, up beneath his rolled up sleeves. “I have a few,” she confessed.

“What are they?” he asked, starting to cut up his steak.

She took a bite of her salmon, chewing it slowly before deflecting his question with one of her own, “What are yours?”

Cassian glanced down at the swirls and marks of black ink that covered his forearms. “They’re Illyrian tribal marks. They all mean something different, but I would be lying if I told you I knew what every one of them meant.”

Nesta snorted. “Then why have them?”

Cassian met her eyes. “My mother was Illyrian. I grew up in Illyria, with her tribe.”

It seems the answer nearly took her back, but she ended up nodding, curtly. “How is your steak?”

“Too done,” he said, shrugging as he took a bite. “I like my meat red.” Her nose crinkled slightly. He asked, “What?”

Nesta shrugged. “I don’t eat meat.”

He blinked and watched as she took another bite of salmon. “You’re…eating fish.”

An eye roll was her reply. “I don’t eat red meat,” she clarified.

“So you’re a vegetarian?” He asked.

“No, I just don’t like to eat red meat. Chicken, pork, fish,” she gestured to her plate. “I like that. But I just prefer not to eat red meat.”

“Hmm.” It was more of a non-answer than anything, but before she could say anything, a man appeared, standing next to their table. Cassian glanced up at him. “Can we help you?”

He wasn’t looking at him though. He was looking at Nesta, who was pointedly not looking at him.

“What are you doing, Nes?”

She took a drink of her wine, draining the glass. “This doesn’t concern you, Tom.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “We take a break and less than a month later, you’re on a date?”

She finally looked at him. “We’re not on a break, I broke up with you.”

Cassian cleared his throat. “Is this where all exes gather?” He looked around again to see if he saw Tanwyn, but she was gone.

“Leave,” Nesta said, plainly. “I can’t enjoy my dinner with you standing over me like the controlling bastard you were in our relationship.”

Cassian’s lips nearly fell open.

The woman had balls.

He respected that.

“I hate to break up this little reunion, but this is awkward as hell,” Cassian muttered, popping a spoonful of garlic mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Tomas said, looking to Cassian, using Nesta’s own words.

Cassian chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll give you two choices here, Tom. Either I call someone to take your ass away from our table or I make you leave, myself.”

“Tough guy, huh?” Tomas asked, putting a hand on Nesta’s shoulder.

Nesta brushed his hand off the second it made contact with her skin. “This is ridiculous. I’m calling over the server. We’re leaving.”

Cassian was inclined to agree. This date had been a catastrophe so far, but he was hopeful that maybe if she invited him in, he could salvage it.

Tomas seemed to take the hint, looking back to Nesta. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll talk about this entire situation then.”

She flagged down the server, but said to Tomas, “Don’t waste your time or mine.”

He walked away, muttering something under his breath, but the server returned and after a quick explanation from Nesta, she was off to get their check.

“Well, that was awkward,” Cassian said, clearing his throat, taking a drink of his beer, planning to finish it off.

“No more awkward than running into your fuck buddy,” she replied, pulling her lipstick out of her purse to re-apply it.

Cassian managed to swallow the mouthful of beer before he spewed it all over her. He coughed quietly. “You don’t tiptoe around anything, do you?”

Her answer was curt. “No.”

The server returned, standing the check book on the edge of the table, and Cassian elected to let the conversation drop at that. He reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

And froze.

It wasn’t there.

He checked every other pocket he had on him.

Nothing.

“Fuck,” he breathed, patting himself down.

Nesta arched a brow. “Issues?”

“I have to run out to the truck,” Cassian said, quietly. “I can’t seem to find my wallet.”

Nesta froze from where she sat behind her half-eaten salmon. “You forgot your wallet?”

“It’s probably in the truck-.”

“I didn’t see it in the truck-.”

“Then the glove box, maybe,” Cassian snapped. “Just, give me a minute.”

“Don’t bother,” Nesta bit, reaching across the table to grab the check.

Cassian got to it first and held it outside of her reach. “I can pay for it. I took you out, I’m paying.”

Nesta scoffed. “Spare me your holier than thou male bravado.”

Cassian stood. “I just need to run out to my truck.”

She was on her feet, snatching the check book from him and looking at the total. Without another word, she reached into purse and laid down a series of bills, before closing it and heading for the door.

Sighing, Cassian followed her, his cheeks heating. Never had he let a woman pay for his dinner, and he’d sure as hell never let her pay for the first date.

He didn’t say a word as he unlocked her door, opening it, and closing it after she’d climbed in. He rounded to his own door, immediately looking around the cab for his wallet. It was nowhere to be seen. He reached across, opening the glovebox, pulling a few things out.

His wallet wasn’t one of them, but Nesta didn’t fail to notice the gold foil wrappers. And how many he had. She scoffed, buckling her seatbelt and looking out the window.

“I’ll pay you back,” he said, after he’d started the truck and had pulled onto the main road.

“No need,” she snapped, staring out the passenger side window. “Dropping me off and leaving me the hell alone will do.”

The words were barely audible. She spoke the words under her breath. And yet, Cassian felt them like a slap in the face.

He was mortified.

He was at a loss for words.

He just wanted to go home.

He also wanted to make a move on Nesta Archeron.

There was something about the head-strong, independent woman that made Cassian swoon.

Not that it stopped the car ride back to her home any less silent and awkward.

“You’re Feyre’s sister,” Cassian said, randomly.

Nesta blinked, looking toward him. “Yeah. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No,” Cassian said quickly. “It’s just that, you’re so…” Different. Cruel. Different. Opposite. Different. Vindictive. Different. “Not the same,” Cassian finished, at last.

“I am my own person,” she snapped, as he stopped in front of her townhouse.

“I know you are, just-.” He sighed, turning to look at her. “This has been a mess from the start. Can I come in? I’d like some time for us to talk, just the two of us. No ex’s, no servers, no interruptions. I just want to get to know you.”

She laughed once.

The sound infuriated him.

“You mean you want to fuck me,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. He was, once again, caught off guard by how blunt she was. She pulled open his glovebox and removed the strip of condoms, holding them up. “Forgot your wallet, but made sure you didn’t forget these.”

Cassian slowly looked at her. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” she repeated. “What are you, a child?”

Cassian couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve tried to be the perfect gentleman tonight, alright? Yeah, I forgot my wallet, but-.”

“And we also ran into your fuck buddy, don’t forget about that,” Nesta said, with a vindictive grin. She opened the door, grabbed her purse, and hopped out.

Cassian was close behind her, following her up her walkway. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Nesta spun around. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she laughed, humorlessly. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Cassian asked, as she approached her front door.

“Yet you’re still following me to my door,” she said, not looking back at him. She unlocked the door, opening it and stepping inside. Turning back to him, she held the door in one hand, the hand holding her purse propped on her hip. “Thank you for a truly unforgettable evening, Cassian, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, letting his gaze slowly drag from her head to her toes and back up again. He watched as her cheeks heated, anger lighting up her eyes. “Yeah, I think you’re right. You’re too stuck up for your own good. Too bad.”

She groaned before slamming the door in his face, praying she’d never have to see Cassian Nazari again.

#shara #collab #LAWKI #nessian #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au

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jomamaofficial · 3 years

Text

You should have said something: Finale (Bakugou x fem!Reader)

A/N: HELLO BESTIES, IT'S YOUR *lmao I just realised I wrote sentimental here instead of CRUSTY here* CRUSTY TOE HERE. Now please, for the love of whoever's up there, PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. I'm not going to dawdle along because this was the finale you all were waiting for, so enjoy. Social Media & LinkTree & Discord Server TW: Very gruesome descriptions of: Death, Burning, Heavy cursing, Blood, Abuse. Masterlist Taglist: @spicy-therapist-mom @speedmetalqueen @silentw-lkr @loki-an-idiot @clickbait-official @captainchrisstan @kamalymaly @idk-sam @runrabbitrun3 @power-house-fan12 @mrslawliet @memeingcheetah27 @lonleyweeb77 @midnight-storm Word Count: 1743

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Sirens flooded the scene, police cars blinding passerbys. Ambulances rushed to the location, paramedics pushing their way through the crowd of people, the heat travelling the smell of iron across the streets of Musutafu. Firefighters reached the estate, dragging people away from the hazard, eyes gawking at the uproar of fire. The house was engulfed in flames, crying voices piercing through the ears of those who looked on. Ashes here and ashes there, belongings erupting into soot and red embers.

A body was heaved onto the stretcher, blood staining the white cotton.

“The heart rate is lowering, I repeat the heart rate is lowering.”

The static noise from the walkie talkie was merely another addition to the tumultuous screams and orders.

Wind ran through his hair, panic stricken over the nurse's face who ran as fast as her environment could let her, the heavy but precious, bleeding body straining her arms and staining her hands.

The door was held open, commands being barked at her.

The reporters bombarded her, obstructing the nurse’s view. She shoved past them; her heart hammered in her chest inspecting the monitor, her movements speeding up as she reached her destination. The body was rushed into the ambulance, attached to pipes and machines.

It was the last thing the public saw before the door was shut and the sirens fled away.

Trending headlines and hashtags spread like wildfire.

Masaru switched on the TV, his wife finishing up her dinner in the other room.

“I am now live at the Bakugou-L/N estate. Word from our information team has come out and the fire has been going on for twenty minutes, however these twenty minutes were enough for Prohero Ground Zero to be sent to the emergency room after a local found him covered in burn marks and injuries inside his already smoking house. Prohero Y/HN is nowhere to be found and all forms of contacts have been shut off. I am now handing over to Tanaka-san who is live at the-”

Switched off. Masaru sat there glued to his seat with his fingers pressing on the power button.

Hope came crashing down and you could only stare at the broken screen of your phone, tiny glass particles spewed on the floor.

Your skin was boiling up but your blood ran cold. Your throat dried up but your tears were wet. You couldn’t feel anything but his nails, digging in through the layers of clothing you comforted yourself in.

If you could go back in time, you would have. If you could stop yourself from dialing Izuku’s number, you would have. Anything, anything would have been better than this.

Silence. And you still had the urge to cover your ears. There was nothing to look at apart from your only form of communication. Everything else was black. And the traitorous phone that gave you away was dissipating as well. It faded away from your sight, leaving you a wide smile on your face. Too wide. Stretching from one cheek to the other, your lips were quivering, forcing it to stop. But it didn’t stop. It was getting wider and wider and it was hurting but could you stop it? No.

You couldn’t stop anything. Not this marriage, not this moment, not your own body.

He pulled on your hair and you couldn’t even stop the pain. He crushed your face between his hands, searing pressure building up in your skull and you still couldn’t stop him. He shouted and he screamed and it was slowly seeping into your skull how loud he really was. Nothing would stop. You couldn’t stop it.

You were useless. Your shrieks were useless because he drowned them out with his own voice.

His words were barely comprehensible. You could either focus on the warm blood trickling down your hairline, or him.

But that took energy. And right now, trying to stay alive was sucking all of the energy out of you.

“YOU FUCKING BROKE RULE NUMBER THREE, YOU FUCKING WHORE.”

Rule number three spiked your interest. Not because you remembered what it was. It only drew your attention to him amidst all the repeated curses and the names and the agony, ‘rule number three’ was something new.

Why would you understand rule number three though, you couldn’t even understand why you were smiling, giggling underneath your breath.

“And out of all the people you could have gone to”, he sucked in a breath, squeezing your cheeks. He could feel your clenched teeth fighting against the strength of his hold.

“You fucking went to that useless cunt Deku”, Bakugou spat out, a crazed glint in his eyes as he felt your face shake and crumble under his grip.

“Where is he now huh?” he scoffed, a breathy laugh escaping from the depths of his body.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT PATHETIC BITCH NOW?” Screaming once again, he activated his quirk, missing you by a hair. The flames mocked you, free to move, free to grow.

“Is he gonna come and get you now? See your precious ‘Izu-kun’ anywhere?” he derided, smiling at the blackened area his palms left on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’M SORRY.”

Your tears said it enough, tears that were mixed in with the sweat and blood that dripped from your forehead. All you wanted was someone, someone who would hold you and stroke your head and clean you up. Someone who would take him away from you and let you live in a fantasy where you weren’t wrong anymore.

You apologized in the false anticipation that he would stop, and caress your face and pepper it in small kisses. You apologized in the false anticipation of thinking that’s what he needed all along. Just an apology.

So when he pushed you off of the sofa, your knees igniting in irritantance and bruises, you could only look at him. And when he crouched down in front of you, tilting your chin upwards, your heart almost fluttered at the thought that he would pull you into a kiss. A warm kiss where you would feel at home and feel loved.

The sad part was that you knew that you would forgive him if he kissed you once.

But the worst part was that you knew this would never happen. And it didn’t. But you were happy to live in your delusion. Because your delusion masked the sheer force at which he defiled your body.

The lethal blaze mirrored the lethal blaze that ignited his eyes. And this was the last time you’d ever see such hate, and animosity in them.

With your hands shielding you too late, all you saw was a blinding light shining through you, filling every crevice in your body with a scorching glow. But then it was extinguished by the darkness.

Alarms were going off in your head, telling you to breathe quickly and panic and scream and reach out and find something to see. And you did. And it entertained him.

So small and so vulnerable, scrambling around beneath him to try and escape. But he had you under his grip. And he wasn’t going to let you go until you remained lifeless under him.

Smoke infiltrated your lungs, forcing you to flail and writhe on all fours. You were heaving, trying oh so very hard to breathe in the oxygen that limitlessly surrounded you.

But you were useless. And you couldn’t breathe to save your life.

Coughing and slobbering, kneeling in front of him, you begged.

“Please, forgive me.”

“Please, I’m sorry.”

“Please, I didn’t mean to.”

“PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP. PLEASE JUST MAKE IT STOP.”

The fumes were stabbing at your throat, filling your head with fog.

And your world was running slowly. The noise was slowed, darker and deeper, slurred beyond understanding. The agony was slow; equally as painful, but slow. It gave you little breaks in between to piece everything together, bit by bit.

Growing up, your world was black and white: heroes were benevolent, there to serve the society and protect them whereas villains were malevolent, there to wreck the balance of society and harm them as they pleased.

Growing up, the first people you relied on were heroes. Even as the Number 3 Hero, Y/HN, you relied on your colleagues who worked day and night to ensure the safety of the country you served.

Maybe that was your downfall. Blindly trusting heroes as if they were some sort of untouchable deities who could never harm. Because here you were, taking the last few breaths with your world spinning around you and being snatched away from you.

And it wasn’t at the hands of a villain that you were dying. It was at the hands of your so-called superior, the Number 2 Hero: Ground Zero.

Ground Zero; the hero who everyone respected but feared. His snarl, his anger, his drive. The very hero who was found in every treacherous battlefield. He was the same hero who took on anything he found that threatened the life of the citizens he made his duty to protect from harm's way.

But who would take him on when he caused harm to you?

No one.

It wasn’t the smoke, or the burns, or the bleeding that caused you to take your last breath. It was the realization that no one would save you.

The pulse under Katsuki’s fingers diminished until it was nothing. And he cried. Veins standing out in livid ridges, his eyes seared in rage as they watered and dripped down his face, cooling his body in the circle of fire he put himself in.

If he wasn’t trained to suck his guilt up every time his hands were responsible for someone’s downfall, he would have been consumed in his own self loath…

But what was the point of feeling guilty when you deserved it?

It was because of you Eijiro broke up with him. And he internally promised himself he would always stand by this.

Blinking away his tears, he channeled all the remaining energy he had, letting his anger flow through out of his body.

His wrists were giving in but he swore it was the final time. Just one more blow. One more big blow.

Silencing his cries underneath the deafening roar of his explosions, he clenched his jaw, pressuring his body on and on.

No one would find you now. No one would know.

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frombeyondtheblackhole · 3 years

Text

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 6

George didn’t mind this Hermitcraft place too much. The people here were nice, even if he had only met two of them. X, their admin, had even offered to let George stay in what he was calling his starter base, though it was bigger than most houses on the Dream SMP.

X was working tirelessly trying to figure out what was wrong with the server. Sometimes he would ask George to help him, or ask George questions but at this point it felt like they had tried everything already and George had been asked the same questions over and over again.

There wasn’t much to do, the one time he had tried to explore, he got dreadfully lost and wandered around in circles for hours before X found him again. He didn’t want to build anything, he wasn’t planning on staying here. So mostly he just entertained himself by borrowing whatever he could find in X’s chests. There were these cool fish-cat things here called axolotls. He had become very attached to this yellow axolotl that he named Dream. Ok so maybe he did miss Dream... but that wasn’t anything new.

X was taking a break and working on a tower for his nether portal and George was playing with Axolotl Dream in the shallows when several other Hermits showed up, and wait, was that Skeppy? What was Skeppy doing here? George scooped the axolotl up in a bucket and climbed up the rocky bank, not bothering to put on his shoes and his pants still rolled up to his knees.

Skeppy stopped and pointed at George “You too!?”

“What are you doing here?” George said holding the bucket with the axolotl in it carefully in both hands.

Skeppy just shrugged “Who knows.”

“Same,” George sighed.

“Wait, there are two of you!?” the Hermit with wings and a red sweater practically squeaked. He looked a bit ruffled. “This is bad, this is bad,” He muttered as he started pacing.

“Um hi, I'm Scar and this anxious mess is Grian,” The other hermit introduced them. “He usually isn’t like this I promise.”

“You don’t understand, this is bad!” Grian interjected.

“Um... I’m George,” George introduced himself, still not moving from where he stood.

X came down from his tower wiping his hands off on a rag and looking at the gathering group. “What’s going on? What seems to be the problem?” He asked. Then he saw Skeppy “Oh... we have another one... well maybe it isn’t that bad. I’m sure I’ll find a solution soon.”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand. I think I broke the Server...” Grian interjected, “I may have... um- Well, you know, Watcher stuff-”

“Take your time, don’t worry about dumbing it down for me, I’m sure I can keep up,” X said, returning the rag to his inventory.

“Well, I wanted to get into the Dream SMP. There is another Watcher who lives there. The only one aside from me that I know of who was able to escape the Organization. I needed to find him. But the Dream SMP is notoriously hard to get into, even for Watchers. So I used the Hermitcraft Server restart to give me a boost and get me through... I wasn’t able to find him before my window closed, I barely made it back as it was... But I think I may have inadvertently damaged the server. I think the two servers are leaking into each other.”

X pressed his knuckle to his chin. “Well that would explain a few things, George showed up several days ago. The server thinks he is Etho and Etho is nowhere to be found.” He looked up at Skeppy, “I'm sorry, I’ve been rude, I’m Xisuma Void, this Server's Admin, I’ll do everything I can to fix this mess,” He said, reaching a hand out to Skeppy.

Skeppy squinted at X for a moment before taking the offered hand and shaking it “Skeppy,” He said as a means of introduction. He wasn’t sure if he believed him when he said he would do everything in his power to fix things but what other option did he have.

“Nice to meet you, Skeppy. If you don’t mind I would like to try some tests to figure out who the server thinks you are,” X explained.

Skeppy recoiled and screwed up his face, “Hell no, I’m not something to be kept in a cage and experimented on” He had never really trusted Dream and after he heard about what Dream had planned to do to him if Dream hadn’t been locked up in the Prison he knew he had been right not to trust him. This admin wasn’t any different, he just saw him as an anomaly to study.

“Oh no, It’s nothing like that,” Xisuma quickly corrected, shaking his head and waving his hands as if to undo any misunderstanding. “I was just going to try and private message a bunch of hermits and see if any of their messages showed up in your inbox.

Skeppy pursed his lips and squinted at X for a minute before relenting “Fine, I guess I’m ok with that.”

X proceeded to send a quick message that read ‘just ignore this, i am testing server stuff,’ to as many hermits as he could think of. He was almost at the bottom of the list when a whistle was heard from Skeppy’s phone. He picked it up and saw the message staring back at him.

“It worked! So who does the server think he is?” George asked, looking around X’s shoulder at his HUD, still holding the axolotl.

“TFC,” X said, looking up at Grian and Scar.

“That makes sense,” Scar said, “He showed up near Boatem and TFC’s base is just over the mountain from us.”

“That’s all well and good but how do we fix this?” Grian interjected.

“Well, I wanted to figure out what was wrong with the server and possibly why it thought George was Etho and now Skeppy and TFC too, but under the circumstances it might be best to send you two back now and we can work on getting our people back on our own. We have already inconvenienced you two enough as it is.”

Grian shook his head “We already tried that, Skeppy was rejected,”

“Of course he was rejected, he didn’t have admin permissions,” George scoffed.

“Wait so you are saying that you need permission from your admin to leave your own server?” Scar asked.

“Yeah, he didn’t usually give them though. I think I only left once after joining the server and that was to go with Dream to watch him compete against Technoblade,” George shrugged, finally putting the bucket down and sitting next to it, it was getting kind of heavy.

“Oh right, I think I remember hearing about that Deul. Didn’t Technoblade win?” Grian added. George pretended not to notice.

“But this still doesn't make sense,” Xisuma mused “The Dream SMP server might not let it’s members leave but that has never been the case on Hermitcraft. And if the Server thinks they are hermits they should be allowed to leave... unless... if they are here then our hermits are Probably on the Dream SMP Server, perhaps if the Servers think they are someone else then they aren't letting them in.”

“But the error message specifically said they didn’t have permission to leave, not that they didn’t have permission to enter,” Grian pointed out.

“Hum, true. Scar do you mind testing something for us. Can you try and leave the server and come back.” X asked

“Sure thing, where should I go,”

“Anywhere should be fine, a public server or a personal one. It shouldn’t matter,”

“Ok, here goes,” Scar said, opening his HUD and pressing some buttons. He flickered for a second, going translucent and then returning to full opacity. His HUD read the same message that the others had “You do not have permissions to leave this server.”

“Well that’s not good,” Scar muttered.

Xisuma moved to look over Scar’s shoulder. “Well that complicates things. Grian, do you think you might be able to go back to the Dream SMP server if you had some help.”

“I mean, maybe, it was pretty sketchy the first time I did it, and that was before we were having problems on our end. I’ll do what I can though.”

“That’s all I can ask for,” X reassured.

“Well for now Skeppy can stay with us in Boatem, and George you are free to join us if you want,” Scar said.

“Beats hanging around here by myself,” George shrugged.

“Alright, with that settled, I think we're done here. Grian, can I see you here tomorrow so we can get started on fixing this server glitch-”

“Well it’s more of a crack than-” Grian started

“Alright, crack then, are you free tomorrow,” X interrupted.

Grian looked sheepish “Yeah, yeah, of course. See you then,”

[Notes: Here you go, I hope you enjoyed. Things are really starting to pick up pace and I am looking forward to where this is going. I really got in the groove with this and just sat down and wrote out several parts at once so those will be coming out every couple of days. I still need to edit them and I don’t want to overwhelm you guys with too much at once.]

#dsmp #dream smp #hermitcraft #dsmp au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft dsmp swap au #xisuma #georgenotfound #grian #watcher grian #good times with scar #skeppy #philza #dreamwastaken

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 3 years

Text

/rp

tw: physical and mental abuse, torture, drowning, broken bones, body image issues, horror, manipulation, kidnapping, implied gaslighting and stalking, referenced human experimentation, disassociation, obsession, and possessive behaviour

The only illumination in the forest was the silver of the full moon, it’s light streaming gently through the autumn leaves. The only sound was the quiet rustling of leaves in the breeze, the soft footsteps of passing animals. It was… peaceful. Serene. One might not expect it to be one of TommyInnit's favourite places, but it was far away enough from the rest of the server that he felt safe, quiet enough that he’d be able to hear any intruders.

He’d barely been able to sleep lately, ever since he'd heard those sirens, barely been able to leave his house. But it’s not a Big Man thing to hide in the house, trembling in fear like a fucking pussy. He’s not sure what in his sleep deprived mind possessed him to try and get over it by spending the night in a surely monster-infested at this time of night forest, but fuck it. He was always right, anyway, there was a reason people called him Tommy Trusty, or more accurately why he and only he called himself Tommy Trusty.

(No, it had nothing to to do with the fact he was going half mad back in the embassy, losing everything and finding it just when he was about to give up, always hearing noises in the walls Tubbo and Ranboo insisted were just the pipeworks, occasionally seeings the flash of a figure in the corner of his eyes. He’d torn the entire hill apart and found no evidence of anything, but as soon as he rebuilt it started up again.)

He just about jumped out of his skin hearing the pinging of his communicator. His laughter when he realised it was just the communicator definitely wasn’t forced, though, he definitely wasn’t shaking when he opened it up, because he wasn’t a fucking bitch baby. Probably just Tubbo or Ranboo being too damn clingy, or Wilbur asking why the fuck he’s a grandfather or something, right?

His eyes widened when he read the message on his screen. The communicator fell to the floor as Tommy scrambled desperately into the trees, words still repeating in his head over and over.

Dream: Run :)

——

It could have been minutes or hours of blind running through the trees in sheer panic before he dared to take a seconds break, doubling over against a tall oak, panting. He wasn’t even sure if he’d gotten anywhere, or just ran in circles, and he wasn’t even sure if it mattered. It was Dream, he did this shit for a living. Tommy was a dead man walking. Was it even worth it running to just prolong it, instead of just sitting still and waiting to die?

A strange sound came from his mouth, a warbling combination of crying and laughter. It forced it's way from his chest, loud and painful and making him break into fits of coughing, barely holding onto the bark to keep himself upright. Prime, was he already going insane? The sun hadn’t even rose yet, and he was already barely standing on shakey legs, laughing and crying into the void.

The void laughed back.

Tommy barely had a second to react before he felt the harsh bite of the axe into his shoulder, and was pinned to the tree like a butterfly to a board, forced to stare face to face with his hunter.

Dream's mask was askew, his eyes manic (no, he realised, his eye, a sickening feeling grasping his stomach as it dawned on him one had been ripped out, leaving an empty, scarred socket). His mouth was twisted into a grin, half as manic as his eyes but half eerily familiar, reminding him of the look on Wilbur's face when they’d first met again after the two of them had moved to the SMP.

After too-long and not-long-enough, Dream yanked back the axe, causing Tommy to crumple to the floor as a new wave of pain emanated through his body. He struggled for breath, not even enough energy to scream, and barely even notice the hand ruffling through his hair brotherly.

Claws grasped tightly around his hair after a moment, yanking him back up onto his feet. He barely avoided falling back onto his knees after Dream let go, as he shakily ran as fast as he could, deeper into the forest, ignoring the eyes bored in on his every move, the wheezing laughed echoing off the trees, the sinking feeling that this too was just another part of the game.

——

Tommy took shakey breaths, curling in on himself and trying to be as quiet as possible, small as possible. He instinctively raised his hand to his shoulder for what must have been for the thousandth time. It’s still surprising when he doesn’t feel it slick with blood, just cold like marble, like a corpse.

(He really was just a dead body forced to keep walking around, wasn’t he? He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror anymore, and the confirmation it wasn’t just skin deep felt almost as sickening as the agonising pain going from his shoulder all the way down to his fingers as they lay limp and unresponsive.)

“Come 'ere, Tommy!” Dream said to himself with a clear smile in his voice. God, Tommy sweared he hadn’t shut up since he’d first found him, and he still jumped whenever he heard it. He’d collapsed into the bushes the second he’d had a moment of silence, but that couldn’t just fucking last, could it? “I know you’re here, Tommy. Come on, stop hiding,” he said, voice filled with the same condescension one would have talking to a child or a frightened animal. “I don’t want to have to burn down the forest, but I will if I have to.”

Tommy's eyes darted, frightened, through the greenery. He’d had the luck to manage to collapse away from the thorny berry bushes that surrounded him, but he’d have to crawl through them to escape. He couldn’t find it within himself to care, anyway. He was already aching everywhere, and he’d caught one of his trouser legs on a branch, ripping it awfully and letting his leg get stung over and over by nettles until it was red and inflamed. It was already his bad leg, the one that always hung a bit limp after he broke it in the Final Control Room, but mixed with what must have been hours of running from the muted sunset colours painting the plants around him and a few rough trips he wasn’t sure he could even walk anymore.

Still, he couldn’t just sit and wait to burn to death, so when he heard the sound of a spark he desperately crawled through the brambles, clawing through with one good arm and leg, scrambling as fast as he could to try and somehow get a lead. He heard Dream's fucking obnoxious tea-kettle laugh, and grit his teeth as he heard the sound of claws against dirt grow closer.

Tommy tried his best to keep quiet as the thorns dug into his skin, as he had to use his remaining working hand to pull them out as they embedded themselves in his skin. Something other than the gnawing terror grew in his chest, something warm, as he slowly, far too painfully slowly, clawed his way closer and closer to the clear ground, felt the ground turn muddier and more and more of a slog to drag himself through. He could hear the flowing water of a river up ahead, and ridiculously his first thought is relief he can finally get off the dirt and grime uncomfortably coating every inch of him.

He breathed a sigh of relief, the first in who knows how long, as he finally, finally, managed to crawl out of the foliage, clawing his hand onto the clearing. He felt a sense of relief, of finally being free from the awful feeling of the thorns tearing through his clothes and sinking into his flesh. He wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was hope, but it was the closest he could ever remember to it.

Whatever it was, Tommy quickly felt it die as something heavy came down on his hand, the feeling of his bones being crushed underneath him sending a new wave of nausea through his body, leaving him gagging, not enough in him to even be sick.

Dream pulled him into the air by the scruff of his neck, and Tommy didn’t even have the energy to fight back anymore. He just let himself hang limply from Dream's grip, eyes focused on nothing in particular as his hunter laughed and laughed and laughed hysterically.

“Oh, Prime- Tommy, you should have seen the look on your face!” Dream said in between breaths, wiping an inky black tear from his eyes. “That’s the best part of the hunt, y’know? Watching your enemies hope leave their eyes once they’re reminded who they’re dealing with. Once they know who really holds the power- well, there wasn’t really any question here, but you’re so stubborn, anyway. And all I had to do was strike a match.”

Dream forced Tommy to look at the plants behind him, completely healthy and unburnt. “I didn’t even have to set anything alight, I just had to make you think I did. It’s so easy! You never think ahead, do you, Tommy? When the fear gets to you, there’s nothing different from you and a wild animal. And wild animals can be tamed.”

“Fu-fuck off,” Tommy forced through gagging. “I’m not like- like a fucking wolf, I'm not a pet. I'd rather die.”

Tommy was pretty sure Dream was rolling his eye. “Well, if I have to do both, there’s nothing stopping me. No one knows where we are. I’ve not seen anyone else even come here but you. Even if they go looking for you, they’ll never find us, Tommy. We've got an eternity.”

“Even if? Shut up, prick. I know they’re looking for me. Tubbo's looking for me. Ranboo's looking for me. Wil- Wilbur, he has to be looking for me.” Tommy insisted.

Dream’s face softened into the false concern that pissed off Tommy more than anything. “Wilbur? Why would Wilbur be looking for you? He left you behind with just a forgetful ghost, remember? And Tubbo? Tubbo exiled you once before, what makes you think he’s gonna care now you’re gone again? Did he even try to free you when you were stuck in the prison? Did Ranboo?”

“I-“ Thinking of it, Tommy wasn’t sure if they had. They’d just got married, adopted a kid, and tried to forget about him. He wasn’t going to fucking listen to Dream, though, so he growled, half feral. “Shut up. Just kill me and get it over with, dickhead.”

Dream burst into the wheezing laughter again. “I’m not going to kill you, Tommy. Not here, not now. That’d be far too boring. I'm going to keep going up until you can’t, anymore, and then I'll take you home- to our home, I built it specifically with you in mind, and then maybe we'll get started on the experiments.”

That brought back old memories that Tommy had hoped were gone, tubes and agonising injections and scalpels and being cut open alive again and again. “I’m not being a fucking labrat again.” Tommy said, swallowing and trying to hide the shakiness of his voice.

“You don’t have a choice,” Dream said, sounding far too cheerful about that fact. He carelessly dropped Tommy back to the ground, onto his knees. He ran a hand through Tommy's hair like he was stroking a fucking dog, and Tommy hated how he automatically leant into it, some animalistic, raw sound bubbling from his throat as Dream continued. “Don’t worry, Tommy, I'll take care of you. It’s not like I’m going to lock you in a cage and ignore you or anything. You’re far too fun for that.”

Tommy looked at the ground, trying to hide the fact he could feel his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. How much had he told Dream about everything, during exi- during Logsted- during the “E” times? He yelped as Dream roughly forced his chin up with his claws, digging in harsher than the thorns. Tommy did his very best to avoid looking him in the eyes as he felt his gaze.

“Tommy. Look at me.”

“No,” he said without thinking. By the time he realised what he said, before he could even open his mouth he was being dragged by his hair. The pain was almost as bad as his hand, as he was unable to even try and take the weight onto anything but the chunkful of hair Dream had a vice grip on. Tommy bit his tongue, trying his best not to scream.

He didn’t even realise what was going on until his head was shoved under the freezing water. He took a lungful of water in with a breath, desperately flailing with what strength he had left with what limbs he could move. The cold stung at his eyes, his skin, feeling like a thousand needles stuck through every nerve on his head, and he couldn’t stop himself from hyperventilating, taking in more and more water until suddenly he just felt too tired to move, too calm to care, and his head was suddenly yanked back out into the air.

He coughed up water, taking in a few breaths, and before he could fully comprehend what was going on he was under the water again, burning his lungs and making him want to peel his skin off. He wasn’t sure how many of the horrible, repetitive cycles he went through of the drowning, under until he felt like he was going to drown, then up for a few precious breaths only to be forced back into the water again. The worst part was that he couldn’t help thinking, well, this is better than the salt water, better than the exile.

Finally, after what feels like hours he's pulled back onto the bank, curling up in on himself and gagging up mouthfuls of water. He closed his eyes and saw Log- saw the beach, opened them and saw the forest, until they started to blur together, mud and tents and fresh and salt water mixing into one.

He painfully forced himself up on one elbow after finally he didn’t feel like he was going to vomit up any more water, and he heard Dream hum. “So you can still crawl, hmm? I‘ll give you a ten minutes head start, and you better have moved by the times up.”

“But-“

“I told you, this ends when you can’t keep going anymore. Not when you won’t.” Tommy flinched away from the sternness of the voice, expecting another blow. “Maybe I'd have given you some pity, if you hadn’t defied me. Unless you liked it under the river, I’d suggest you obey.”

Tommy didn’t need to be told twice.

——

Tommy had barely managed to crawl from the river, behind a boulder, when he collapsed completely.

He couldn’t move anymore, could barely blink. It was still sunrise, the last of the stars having disappeared. The colours were pretty.

Prime, he was tired.

He felt back like when he was little, and Philza had just taken Tubbo in, and he’d stayed up all night comforting him after he’d had a nightmare, and he was so tired he’d started seeing shit, yet feeling like he couldn’t sleep yet, he needed to stay awake.

He’d never see Tubbo again. He thought he’d feel sad about that, but he just felt resigned. Sadness required energy he didn’t have.

All he could really focus on was the feeling of the breeze against his skin, the heavy feeling against his chest as he focused on breathing, in, out, in, out, the burning in his throat and his shoulder and his hand. They felt like the only things real anymore, everything else a dull snapshot that felt so distant, so far away.

He knew he should panic when he heard the sound of claws tapping on the ground, words that blurred into one big mess, but he couldn’t. He just felt tired, frozen.

He’d heard, once, that when deers stand in the headlights of an upcoming car they freeze instead of running or fighting. Tommy thought that was stupid back then. Now, dimly, it made sense. Staying still was just so much easier, and sometimes all you could do was conserve your energy.

He wanted to just close his eyes, to sleep, but something at the back of his mind screamed at him that Dream wouldn’t like it.

He feels a hand ruffle through his hair before he sees him, and for a second he thinks of Wilbur, back when Tommy was very little. He used to have nightmares back then, and he’d cry all night and wake up Wilbur and Wilbur would tell him made up stories about grand nations and heroes with cocky grins and electric blue eyes with cool brothers that wrote songs and loved the ocean.

Wilbur wasn’t here, though. It was just Tommy and Dream. Just Tommy and Dream now and forever.

“‘M tired,” he whined, leaning into Dream's touch automatically. Dream laughed.

“You must be. C'mon, let’s go home.”

Tommy didn't resist as Dream picked him up effortlessly, slung over his shoulder like a hunters prize catch. It hurt his shoulder, and he bit his tongue, vaguely remembering he didn't like showing weakness. He felt like more of a placeholder in Tommy's shell, like Tommy had fallen asleep awake and he was the replacement.

He tried to focus on Dream. Focus on something but the static of tiredness clouding his head. Being like that felt dangerous, like something he wasn’t allowed to do. But Dream was there, physically there, and Tommy focused on the feeling of his bony shoulder, the sharp claws gently holding him steady, the feeling of hair brushing against the tattered remains of his hoodie.

“Y'know,” Dream said, more to himself than to Tommy, “I've got materials for some regen potions back home. With them, your hand could be able to heal in a few weeks, and then we can do this all over again. That'd be nice.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no.”

“'T wouldn’t be fun. I don’t wanna do this ever again.”

Dream laughed to himself slightly. “I wasn’t asking. Not everything is about you, Tommy. Now, go to sleep. I want you aware when I show you our new home.”

“'Mkay.”

Dream laughed again. “You'll really do anything I say like this, won't you?”

Tommy shook his head, ignoring how dizzy it made him. “Nah, 'm just… tired.” he said, finishing with a yawn, making Dream laugh again. That was good, he thought. It was just him and Dream, right? They just had each other, now, they should try and help each other.

Tommy knew he should have been frightened, he should have been fucking terrified, but all he could think of drifting off to sleep was that he just hoped tomorrow would be less exhausting.

#my writing #dsmp writing #dream smp writing #primeboys (derogatory)#tw abuse #tw torture #tw Drowning #tw body image issues #tw broken bones #tw horror #tw manipulation #tw kidnapping #tw implied gaslighting #tw implied stalking #Tw human experimentation mention #Tw disassociation #tw obsession #tw possessive behavioir

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fridayfirefly · 3 years

Text

Hardcore Hide-and-Seek

Read Hardcore Hide-and-Seek on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 27 - Contest

There was a dull ache behind his temples that just wouldn't go away. The harsh, bright lights of his computer screen and the fact that he hadn't slept in almost 36 hours combined to give Tim a headache so powerful he could barely think.

"Sweetheart. Honeybunch. Cupcake. Darling." Marinette poked him in the shoulder after each pet name. "You need to go to bed now before you pass out on the keyboard." She gently pulled on his arm, guiding him away from the computer.

"Not yet. Give me... two more hours."

"No way. You need to sleep."

"I just need to finish this one program to search and identify every pedestrian walking by all five of Jason's safehouses, get it up and running, and check it for bugs. Then I can go to sleep."

Marinette groaned. "Nine hours, that's all I'm asking."

"You know how much can be done in nine hours? In nine hours Damian will have checked half of The Bowery, Cass and Steph will have combed through all of Crime Alley, and Dick and Babs will have hacked their way into every street-facing camera in Gotham."

"First of all, you're not going to find Jason if you're too tired to think straight. Second, finding Jason first means nothing if you're too tired to catch him." Marinette rolled her eyes. "Third, I think this whole contest is ridiculous. I swear, you Bats play the weirdest games."

"It isn't weird. It's good practice for our tracking abilities," protested Tim.

"It's extreme hide-and-seek tag, that's what it is. Now get to bed. If you get nine hours of sleep tonight, I'll help you catch Jason tomorrow morning."

"Fine." Tim cast one last longing look at the computer before Marinette pulled him out of the Batcave.

----------

The light of morning woke Tim up, reminding him that he had been too tired the night before to set an alarm. "What time is it?"

"It's nine in the morning. You were right that Cass and Steph searched through Crime Alley. They checked all three of Jason's safehouses but found nothing. Damian got sidetracked by an armed robbery while searching through The Bowery and was barely able to check a few blocks. Dick and Babs got access to the traffic camera and the video of two different security companies, but they weren't able to get any of your facial recognition programs to run on any of the feeds."

"Wait, what?" asked Tim, still not fully awake.

"I was serious about helping you. I don't do anything halfway," said Marinette.

Tim sat up, "That's great! Our odds of winning triple when we team up. What were you saying about Babs and Dick?"

"They can't get your facial recognition program to run."

"That's because I tweaked some of the code right at the end to require a confirmation from my laptop. That way if any of my codes fall into the wrong hands, I'll know." Tim grabbed his laptop off of his desk and opened it. A pop-up appeared in the corner of the screen.

[user: Babs requests access for FACIAL RECOGNITION]

There were three options underneath: YES, NO, and IMITATION RUN. Tim clicked the third.

"What does imitation run do?" asked Marinette.

"It will go through to all of the video feeds, but it won't actually flag anything. It will just run passively. Dick and Babs, however, won't know that."

"Clever. That should set Dick and Babs back. Now how are we going to find Jason?"

"Jason knows that we have programs to monitor anywhere where there are security cameras. That means he'll be staying away from traffic cameras. He's lying low - probably in a safehouse."

"Cass and Steph checked all three of the safehouses in Crime Alley," objected Marinette.

Tim shook his head. "Jason has more than three safehouses in Crime Alley. Those three are just the ones we know about."

"How are we going to find these safehouses?" asked Marinette. "If there's one thing Jason's good at, it's disappearing."

"That's the problem. Jason only has to last three more days before he wins. It's entirely possible for him to just hole up in his safehouse and never leave."

"On the other hand, that means that we've got him cornered once we figure out the location of his safehouse."

Tim nodded. "Let's get searching."

The problem with finding a safehouse is that there isn't much to do once a person is successfully hidden inside. It's impossible to search every single building in all of Crime Alley (though Steph and Cass together were giving a remarkably good effort of scouring for signs of Jason), so Tim and Marinette took a different approach.

"I designed the burner phones that all of the Bats use in our safehouses, which is how I know for certain that there are no trackers in them. However, if I send out a system update, they all update automatically. When the update is installed, it will send back a confirmation to the main servers. I can trace that message back to figure out the location of all of the burner phones."

"How long will that take?"

"Half an hour to get everything ready to send out a system update. Fifteen minutes after that before all the phones are updated and send their confirmation messages. From there we can start checking safehouses."

Marinette grinned. "See, I told you that you would think better with a full night of sleep."

"You were right," Tim admitted.

"You start the system update, I'm going to make breakfast."

Marinette left the bedroom and Tim wondered how he got so lucky as to have her with him.

----------

After collecting the locations of all the safehouse burner phones and cross-checking the results with the list of known safehouses, there were five unconfirmed safehouses left.

"Two in Crime Alley, two in The Bowery, and one in East End," reported Tim.

"Let's hit East End first, then move onto The Bowery, and end in Crime Alley," Marinette formulated the plan over a plate of pancakes. "What are the official rules to this game, anyway?"

"Jason got twelve hours to hide. Then we get five days to track him down and tag him. The winner gets to drive the Batmobile anytime Bruce isn't in town for the next six months."

Marinette playfully rolled her eyes. "Of course the prize is driving the Batmobile." Getting up from her finished breakfast, Marinette started putting on her coat and shoes. "Come on, Tim, let's go win you Batmobile privileges."

The apartment in East End was empty, save a few rats that scurried across the hallway of the apartment. Marinette wrinkled her nose and she peered out the grimy window. "Who's safehouse do you think this was?"

Tim fished a half-empty carton of cigarettes out of a drawer in the kitchen. "Jason's, probably, but given the amount of dust in here, I don't think he's been here for a while."

The brick house in The Bowery was a little cleaner but still abandoned. The little front yard was half dirt and half weeds. Pinned up on a bulletin board in the front hallway was an empty postcard decorated with the logo for Haly's Circus. Tim concluded that it was Dick's safehouse and they moved onto the next safehouse. It was in an apartment complex in Crown Point, the seediest district of The Bowery. It was stocked with knives, guns, and a box of neatly labeled poisons.

"Damian's safehouse?" guessed Marinette. "He's the only one I could see having poison kept on hand."

Tim nodded, "Probably."

The second-to-last safehouse was on the border between The Bowery and Crime Alley. It was small and run-down, but it seemed that at one point it had been well-maintained. The mailbox was hand-painted yellow, with blue letters reading: The Brown's.

"Stephanie's old house," said Tim, realization.

"Sentimental choice for a safehouse," noted Marinette.

It felt wrong to enter the house that Steph grew up in, so they moved on from it. There was no way Jason was inside, not when Steph and Babs had already search the known safehouses in Crime Alley.

Tim sighed as they drove to the last location. "We've only got one safehouse left to check. I'm not sure what we'll do if Jason isn't in it." Tim had forgotten to consider that Jason might have gotten a burner phone from somewhere else, other than the supply cupboard in the Batcave.

"If he isn't there then we'll go back to the drawing board, I suppose. But don't lose hope yet. I have a good feeling about this one," Marinette reasoned.

The final safe house was a nondescript apartment building: brown brick exterior, cigarette butts on the sidewalk, and grimy windows.

"Do you think this is it?" asked Marinette.

Tim shrugged. "We'll just have to find out."

There were eight apartments in the building, four on the first floor and four on the second. Tim and Marinette quickly swept the first floor, but none of the apartments were Jason's. They then moved to the second floor. Tim quickly picked up on a dusty footprint on the carpet. He recognized the tread-marks from the bottoms of Jason's shoes. "Second door on the left," whispered Tim. "You head outside and make sure he doesn't escape through the windows."

"I'll let you tag him," Marinette whispered in response, slipping down the stairs.

Tim waited a full minute for Marinette to get into position, then crept up to the door. Taking a deep breath, Tim waited for the moment to feel right. Then another breath. Bang!

Tim broke through the door, revealing Jason sitting on the bed, scrolling on his phone.

Jason swore and reached for the gun on the bedside table, but he didn't get a chance to fully react before Tim tagged him out.

"Goddammit!" Jason threw the gun on the bed in frustration. "How did you find me?"

"Burner phone," chimed in Marinette as she popped through the window.

"You said they didn't contain trackers," Jason accused.

"They don't. But when I issued a system update, they all sent a confirmation which I was able to track," Tim said smugly, trying not to gloat too hard.

Jason whipped open a drawer in the cramped kitchen and pulled out the burner phone, tossing it to Tim. "Next time, I'm picking out my own burner phone."

"If it wasn't the phone, we'd have found something else. Admit it, we were good," said Marinette.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Good job, Replacement. You too, Pixie Pop."

"See you at home," Marinette chirped. "Now that this silly contest is over, I have Tim to myself for the next two days. No more sharing his with his computer."

Tim smiled at the thought of finally spending time with Marinette. "Let's go."

"I thought you'd never ask."

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #MaribatMarch2021 #timari #timinette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Tim Drake #my work #miraculous ladybug fic

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

Hit the Town (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.5K Warning: N/A Premise: After enjoying drinks with their friends, they escape to a quick dinner date.

A/N: Just self indulgent crack, don’t mind me.

They stood in comfortable silence as the elevator ascended to their destination, the scent of her perfume embracing his every sense in the confined space. Not surprisingly, Ethan had found himself easily persuaded to abandon the tower of paperwork that awaited him in favor of spending the rest of the evening with her.

As the elevator announced the 20th floor, she moved closer to him, her body fitting so perfectly to his side. “Are you still thinking about work?” she correctly guessed.

Ethan’s arm automatically draped over her shoulders, as though it was second nature.

“I’ve been thinking of nothing but work these past few months,” he confessed in the silence.

Lilac simply nodded. The same could be said for her-- for everyone at Edenbrook-- as the date of its final day loomed closer. That thought alone was enough to send his mind spiraling into a cesspool of melancholy. He forcefully pushed them away, deciding to focus instead on the rather pretty smile she gifted him.

“Let’s not think about work tonight,” she proposed, straightening her posture with a new sense of purpose. Her fingers toyed with the gold pocket square that matched her dress perfectly. “Tonight is about you, me, and how good we look for this date.”

The latter point of her argument was undeniable, at least when concerning Lilac. His girlfriend in the gold dress that clung to her like a second skin had to be the most alluring sight he had ever seen. His eyes traveled down the plunging neckline, tracing the sparkling band of her necklace.

Lilac caught him staring, her smile turning devilish as she pressed herself closer to him.

“Besides, there's so much more you could be doing with your time than paperwork,” she argued in a low whisper, lips pressed against the column of his throat.

Ethan wholeheartedly agreed with that compelling argument, particularly with the one her delicate hands made at the buttons of his shirt. A chill traveled down the length of his body, not from the air conditioner of the elevator but from the captivating, expectant way her green eyes studied him when she pulled back.

“Like what?” he asked anyway.

“Like me,” she returned without a beat in the sexiest murmur he had ever heard.

Ethan grinned down at her, surprised he had enough self control to do even that. “That was terrible, Allende.”

Yet it worked, his body thrummed with an overpowering need to push her against the elevator railing, the unbridled longing buzzing wildly through his veins like an exposed wire. The loud ding of the elevator announcing their arrival, however, interrupted what promised to be a charged and heady kiss.

Lilac took in the lavish décor of the restaurant, rendered even more intimate by the twinkling lights of the city sparkling through the floor to ceiling windows. As the maître d' approached, she hurriedly leaned up to whisper in his ear.

“Ethan, this looks like the kind of place that needs a reservation.”

Her eyes fell on the crystal chandelier adorning the high ceiling and added, “A reservation months in advance.”

Ethan only grinned crookedly at her.

“And given that I just seduced you into this date one hour ago, I really doubt we have one.”

“Seduced me? Is that how you'll get me to do your bidding from now on?”

He would welcome that new development. To his slight disappointment, however, she ignored this question, wide eyes fixed on the maître d' before them.

“Good evening. What is the name for the reservation?”

“Ethan Ramsey.”

The man nodded once. “Of course. Welcome, Dr. Ramsey. If you follow me.”

He turned to lead them into the luxurious dining room. By the time they sat at their private table with an unobstructed view of the bay, Lilac blinked out of her surprise.

“How did you—?”

“I'm friends with the head chef.”

“Of course you are.”

Ethan flashed her another crooked smile, this one taking effect immediately in the adorable blush of her cheeks. His own stomach swooped in response, part of him incredulous that he was really there, on a date with the woman of his dreams.

The waiter arrived and Ethan wasted no time in ordering an expensive bottle of champagne, earning him a curious glance from Lilac.

“What are we celebrating?”

The bravado seemed to fizzle out and Ethan, suddenly self conscious, shrugged. “The fact that we can finally do this openly, without having to hide.”

Her eyes met his, the rosy patches on her cheeks burning brighter. Looking positively touched, she gave him a fond smile.

Lilac did not have an opportunity to say anything else because their champagne arrived, along with a beautiful display of appetizers. At the sight of food, her expression brightened, eliciting a laugh from Ethan.

“I hate seafood but I'm going to try the Ahi Tuna Poke,” she informed him confidently.

Ethan raised his brows. “Why? You know you'll hate it.”

“I want to see if I'll like it now that I'm older and more mature.”

“Mature?” he asked with faux sarcasm.

Lilac stuck out her tongue at him. “You know what I mean. You start enjoying things you once hated as you grow older.”

Ethan considered this in the quiet ambiance of the restaurant. Finally, he nodded his agreement. “I definitely know what you mean. When I was younger, I hated pistachio ice cream. My dad always insisted on buying it and just the sight of it made me gag.”

It was Lilac's turn to laugh, endeared by the story. “Poor little Ethan,” she commented, leaning in to bop his nose with her finger. He would never admit it out loud but it made his chest swell pleasantly. “I always wondered what you were like when you were younger.”

“I was a devil. Remember that story about me blowing up my neighbor's shed?”

She laughed again but shook her head. “No, I mean I've never seen any pictures of young Ethan Ramsey.”

“That's been on purpose, Rookie. They're locked away in Providence, safe from prying eyes.”

Her shoulders deflated at that, the light of the chandelier catching the sequin of her dress. The crestfallen expression, however, did not last long.

“And how do I get access to these adorable pictures?”

“When I die.”

“Or,” she added without missing a beat, her expression brightening in a way Ethan didn't exactly appreciate. “I could just text Alan right now. I bet he'll send them if I asked.”

Ethan glared at her, finding it difficult to remain unsmiling when her playful grin lit up the entire room.

They stared each other down for a long minute before they both sprang into action at the same time, each reaching for their phone.

“Too late,” she proclaimed, her voice giddy. It attracted the attention of a nearby couple but she didn't seem to care. “I'm texting him now and—Oh my God, he's replying.”

Ethan wasn't even sure what he meant to do with his own phone. There was no chance he could ever compete with Lilac's lightning-speed texting.

Finally, a message came in on her phone and Lilac clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God,” she squealed, the sound muffled. “Ethan!”

He knew his father had sent her the pictures he requested because her eyes darted from her screen to Ethan and then back again.

“You were so—”

“Don't say—”

“Adorable!”

Lilac showed him her screen and he groaned.

As she dissolved into giggles, Ethan brandished his own phone at her. “You'll pay for that, Allende.”

“Go ahead,” she challenged. “Nothing you do is going to top—”

“I'm texting your sister,” he interrupted calmly. “For pictures of young you.”

Her laughter halted completely, all traces of humor vanishing entirely. With as much dignity as possible, she shrugged, though the intended effect was ruined by the way she had almost leapt across the table with every intention of snatching his phone away.

Before she could do just that, Ethan began to text.

“I'm going to murder her,” Lilac said passionately just as the server stopped at their table to refill their glasses. He didn't even bat an eye at Lilac's declaration.

“No need,” Ethan said with a chuckle, glancing at the pictures once more. “My plan of embarrassing you backfired since there's not a single bad picture of you in here.”

She rolled her eyes but he could tell she was fighting back a smile. Unable to resist, he gently took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. The private moment between them lingered, their eyes locked on each other’s as though magnetized.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Her lips were parted, her voice slightly breathless. “For what?”

“For making this night infinitely better.”

Her responding smile was brighter and far more breathtaking than the view of the city behind her.

“It's only just starting.”

_________________

A/N: Told you that was crazy and pointless. I really wanted them to go out somewhere, anywhere in those hot outfits. Thank you if you made it this far!

Dedicated to @takeharryandgo who said “Ethan is the town and MC is going to hit it” in regards to the dress being changed from “Date Night” to “Hit the Town”

thank you @aestheticartsx for pre-reading!

Love you all,

Bree

Also, the Pictagram series: Chapter 10 is taking longer because work is crazy for me atm. I also want to make sure this particular chapter is the best it can possibly be!

_____________________

(Sorry if I forgot anyone)

tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @mrsramseyy, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @angela8756, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble, @mercury84choices, @drariellevalentine, @ethanrcmsey, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost, @kaavyaethanramsey , @udishaman

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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chocoluckchipz · 3 years

Text

A Soulmate for Christmas - 1

No one but you see your soulmate mark. Not unless your soulmate touches it, and even then, it only glows for a moment. Most consider that a blessing, but Marinette would say it’s a blessed curse. Because how was she supposed to find the boy who left a black cat mark on her hand fifteen years ago in the city that wasn't even located in France? So when she finds a model flaunting the mark she put on him all those years back in a magazine, she has hope for a moment. That is until she notices the article discuss his imminent engagement to someone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, what’s the emergency?"

Marinette’s hand emerged from under the covers, pointing in the direction of her desk. "The new Paris Fashion. Page thirty."

Alya whistled upon reaching the said page. "Looking good, M Agreste. Good enough to turn my best friend into a hot mess with a single picture."

"This isn’t funny, Al. Look at his chest!"

"Pure lean muscle. Perfectly toned. He's growing up nicely. Though, I fail to see why this is a big enough emergency for you to make me bail on lunch with Nino."

"Look. At. His. Chest." Marinette crawled out from under the comforter and stomped toward Alya, pointing at the particular spot on the picture. "This. Look at this."

"A ladybug tattoo? So—Wait!" Alya looked up at Marinette, her finger pointing to the ladybug mark painted on his chest. "Are you telling me that’s his—"

"Right where I put it!" Marinette cried, ducking back under her covers. "See? He exists! I told you. I can’t believe you were doubting me all this time!"

"Well, excuse me, but you were five, and he sounded too good to be true. Little boys don’t usually go out of their way to help crying girls they don’t know find their flirting grandmas at a fashion show in Milan. Little boys don’t kiss said little girl’s hand as a farewell while they are at it. And they certainly don’t ask for the girl to kiss their soulmate mark into existence as close to their heart as she possibly could. ‘So, they won’t forget her,’ right?"

"So, he could always keep me close to his heart," Marinette corrected. "But that doesn’t matter now. You were right. That boy doesn’t exist anymore, and this one isn’t as good as I thought he was, so whatever. I’ll get over him and move on. There are plenty of guys out there. One of them is bound to like me more than money, fame, and prestige."

"What do you mean? Shouldn’t you be happy your crush is your soulmate?"

With a pitiful groan slipping her lips, Marinette buried her face into her pillow. "Ugh! I can’t believe I ever felt guilty for crushing on him. I thought I was a horrible person betraying my soulmate for some handsome, sexy supermodel. Foolish me. He doesn’t deserve any of my attention."

"Marinette, seriously. What do you mean?"

"Read the article."

Alya fell silent as soon as she noticed the title. "‘Paris’ most eligible bachelor reveals… a long-time secret relationship with his childhood friend Kagami Tsurugi. Doesn’t deny Christmas Eve engagement rumour.’ Oh."

"And you know what the worst part is?"

"What can be worse than discovering that your long-time crush is your long-lost soulmate and then finding out he’s been not only dating someone else but very likely will propose… tonight?"

"How about being at the same party at the same time. As a waitress."

Alya swore under her breath and put the magazine down. "Mayor Bourgeois’ Christmas Gala?"

Marinette nodded. "The article said they both confirmed they will be attending. I'll get a front-row seat to my soulmate's proposal to someone else. Lucky me."

"Then don’t go," she said, sitting down beside Marinette. "I’ll go in your place."

Marinette couldn’t let her do that. Nino was going to propose tonight, so Alya couldn’t be anywhere but with him. "You’re spending your first Christmas with Nino’s family. I’m not standing in the way of that."

"I can spend New Year Day with them."

"You’re going to the French Alps with your family that weekend. Don’t try to weasel out of it. Your mom has been planning that trip for months. Nora’s flying in specifically for it."

"I’m not trying to weasel out. I’m trying to help you, M."

"And I appreciate it, but I’m not making you go instead of me."

"What about your father?"

"The doctor said he shouldn’t be getting up for at least another week or his leg might not heal properly and he’ll end up with a prospect of a surgery which we’re trying to avoid."

"Then, I’m sure Rose or Juleka wouldn’t mind stepping in."

"No." Marinette sat up on her bed. "They have plans, and I’m not going to ruin them. I’ll just have to grow a pair and face him like the strong, independent woman I am. Or rather go help Maman and avoid him at all cost. He’s not even going to recognize me anyway. I didn’t. Not until I saw that photo."

"That’s true. I doubt he remembers much about you. You were babies when you met, so just stay away from him and keep your hands covered. That way even if you accidentally touch he won’t see it. A pair of gloves perhaps?"

"Mayor has uniforms for all the servers, even those coming in with the caterers, so no gloves for me. But as long as I do my job and pretend like I’m not in the same room with my soulmate who clearly didn't think me worthy enough to search for and instead decided to date this very famous, very influential, extremely rich girl from his own circle, I should be fine."

"I’m so sorry, M." Alya wrapped her arms around Marinette, bringing her into her chest for a cuddle. "Men are stupid. Some more than the others. Especially the rich and spoiled ones."

Marinette scoffed bitterly. "Don’t I know it. I got plenty of examples from being in the same class as Chloe Bourgeois for years."

"Isn’t Adrien Chloe’s friend?"

"I think so. I was hoping Adrien wasn't like her. Clearly, that isn't the case."

"You'll get over him soon, and we'll find you a nice, handsome, smart man who will cherish and love you for who you are."

"Soulmates are so last century anyway, right?" Marinette swallowed back the knot in her throat. No matter how much she tried to convince herself, this hurt. "I’m sure he doesn’t even remember meeting me. We were five. Who would be holding on to a memory of a random girl in Milan? And even if he did remember me, he probably thinks I live there. I thought my soulmate lived in Milan until he decided to show off his stupid soulmate mark to the whole world. Who does that, anyway? Those are supposed to be one of the most intimate of details of one’s life. You don’t just show it to everyone, and certainly not to the whole world while announcing your engagement to someone else."

Her eyes fell to her hand where, invisible to everyone but her, an image of a black cat lay, a mark Adrien Agreste left there more than a decade ago with his first kiss to her skin. Just like a mark of a ladybug appeared on his chest when her lips touched it upon his request. He said he wanted to keep her close to his heart, so it would be easier for him to find her.

What a load of BS.

"Have you ever thought that, perhaps, that could’ve been a message to you?" Alya asked. "He went through the trouble of painting over his soulmate mark for the photoshoot so others could see it. It has to mean something. No one is dumb enough to think that if Adrien Agreste releases topless photos while announcing something as big as a possible engagement, there would be at least one person in France, or even Europe for that matter, who wouldn't see it. He knew his soulmate would see it."

Marinette laughed. Bitterly. "Yeah, a great message. ‘Here is my soulmate mark, my dear soulmate. In all the years I knew you existed, I didn’t bother to find you. But I did make sure that this picture, in which I showcase to the whole world the mark you left me, came along with an article where I discuss how much I love my girlfriend you'll never compare to in status, money or looks. Not that I even care about your feelings, announcing that an engagement is in the near future for me and my darling childhood friend.’ Yeah. This is definitely a message, Alya. He says ‘Screw you, Marinette. I’m better off with Kagami Tsurugi, and I thought you should know that.’"

Alya wrapped her arms around her tighter. "First of all, only brainless idiots would take status and money over love. Second, you’re the prettiest, smartest, and the most successful woman I've ever known, and third, you're an amazing and wonderful person who's on her way to becoming one of the best designers in Paris, so don’t you bring yourself down because of a stupid man who doesn't realize what he lost."

"It's my fault anyway. That's what I get for letting that stupid, cute boy kiss my stupid hand at a stupid fashion show in stupid Milan."

"You were five, M. And he was a dashing gentleman, helping you find your grandmother in a strange city you got lost in. You couldn't have known he's your soulmate. No one could have."

"Right. And he won’t recognize me, so I’ll be fine. He won’t even look a waitress’ way. Nothing to worry about. I’m very much certain the only person he’ll be looking at will be his future bride-to-be, so I have absolutely nothing to be scared of. Not that I’m scared, because I’m not. I just don’t want to be humiliated. Not that I’m already humiliated, but at least no one knows about it. That'll be awful if anyone else finds out—"

Alya grabbed her face and turned to look at her. "Marinette, breathe. Calm down."

She took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. Alya was right. This was fine. She’d be fine. Everything would be just peachy.

"As long as he doesn’t touch your right hand, no one will know. I still insist I go instead of you. Nino will understand—"

"No. I’ll go. I can do it."

"Yes, you can, and you’ll be fine, but if anything happens, you have my number. I’ll be there in five minutes. You got me?"

Marinette nodded, pulling Alya into a hug. She was an amazing friend, and Nino and she were going to be insanely happy together. One day perhaps, Marinette would meet someone too. Someone who, just like her, was betrayed by their soulmate. Or someone who had lost theirs. Someone who would be kind and gentle and, like her, would just want to be happy.

Someone who was not Adrien Agreste.

Next >

Read it on A03, FF.net. WattPad

Buy the author a Ko-fi for Christmas

#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #soulmates #adrinette #fluff #light angst #misunderstanding #happy end #aged up #no magic au #soulmate marks

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 11

Wordcount: 5,150 Rating: M for strong language, ideologically sensitive and mature themes, gore “In a society that normalizes cybernetic enhancements, many forget what it is to be human. He never did.” Chapter synopsis: Allen and Arthur race to find you both, but it proves to be harder without knowing your whereabouts. Meanwhile, you've successfully helped Alfred find the chip. Before leaving, you have a long-awaited conversation with your father to realize he's more insane than you thought. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Songs to listen to while you read (in order as found in playlist): Cyberninja, Trouble finds trouble, Tower Lockdown, Me!Me!Me!, Pt. 2, Him & I (with Halsey), Atlantis. I have indented song titles throughout the chapter so you can change accordingly. Starting now:

Cyberninja

Before Arthur could even buckle himself in, Allen rammed his foot into the gas pedal. He was thrown back in a violent manner, and hit his head against the headrest. But the mechanic never complained. He looked stressed enough as is, continually scanning the road while murmuring to himself as if he’d really gone mad. “Hell, that motherfucker could be anywhere in the whole fucking city right now.” He hissed, pulling out of the driveway and into the main road.

“We can’t call him. Track him. Nothing. Same goes for (F/N). They’re off the map.” Turning to his companion numerous times in distress, he sped through the streets, though he had no particular destination in mind.

The indicator clicked. Allen cursed at the car in front of them, but never made a move to overtake. As Arthur became overwhelmed by these stimulants, he opened his mouth, defeated. “If you’re in such a hurry, why--why bother following traffic rules? You never have before, so why now?” He asked with a shake of the head, earning a loud scoff from the other.

The car windows glowed with a flurry of pinks and purples as they moved closer to the commercial district. They were near their first stop.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t give a damn if I didn’t have to.” The whites of his eyes reflected a mosaic of color as he never looked away from the road. “But that was when I was working for my boss. I had protection. I could do a hit and run if I wanted, and without the running part.” The redhead breathed. Then, he stuck his head out of the window with a huff. Immediately, he was choked by the city smog, and deafened by the blaring of car horns.

“Friggen’ prick...” He flipped off the driver in front of him. Sitting back into his seat, he flashed Arthur a grin, though the man couldn’t return the energy.

“Did you get fired? Or did you quit?” This wasn’t the best time to ask about the past, but he had been dying to know why he wound up half-dead on his doorstep. So what better a time to do it than now?

“I quit.” Allen answered point-blank. “Old man didn’t take it well. Decided to kill me. Didn’t.” Slowing the vehicle, they arrived at a parking-lot surrounded by backdoors of multiple piss-poor establishments. One of which was illuminated by a flickering red neon sign that read ‘no-tell motel’.

“He thinks I’m dead, so the rest of the city has to think that too.”

Arthur gawked at him. “That makes you no better than a fugitive! And it’s not just anybody after you--Allen, he’ll kill you when he finds out you’re still alive!”

“And that’s why he won’t find out.” Tapping the side of his neck for a flap to open, the said man slotted a small disk inside. “Disables cybernetic upgrades in a twenty foot radius. Means I can’t use mine, but it stops other people from figuring out who I am.” He dug through one of the compartments for a muffler, which he wrapped around the bottom half of his face.

What he did next was alarming, however. Sticking his hand further in, he pulled out a gun and cocked it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell are you doing--!?” Arthur exclaimed, fumbling with a face mask Allen tossed his way. He didn’t see a silencer anywhere either. “If I can call the police without any upgrades, so can everyone else!”

His statement couldn’t ring any truer, and yet, it never slowed down the other’s movements as he climbed out of the car. Unsatisfied by his silence, he wound up getting out to follow him. “Oi, say something! At least let me know you’re not gonna shoot up a restaurant!” Whispering that part out, he had to speed up a few steps to catch up with the man, now marching to the backdoor of a motel.

“Put the mask on.” Allen murmured without sparing him a single glance. But he paused briefly to process what he said. “... A motel, you mean. But I’m hoping we won’t have to resort to that.”

Arthur’s eyes went round. “You were considering--”

He could share the desperation to save Alfred’s life, but he had a hard time following how. Shooting up a motel? What was he thinking?

“Yes.” Attaching his hand to the door, it creaked open. Before Allen took another step, he faced him with a serious glower. “Now when we get inside, I want you to walk up to the receptionist. He’s programmed to greet you. Ask him for a room, and while you do, I’ll approach him from behind and deactivate him. Kapeesh?”

But then again, he was in the dark here. Arthur hadn’t the slightest clue on what Alfred’s circumstances were, as mysterious as the man was, so he had no idea how he was on the verge of dying.

So naturally, he wouldn’t know how to save him either.

But he trusted Allen to know what to do.

“... Alright. You better not make me regret this, you tyke.”

“You can call me anything you want, just not that. I’m not a kid anymore.” Those words would become apparent as they walked inside, where their plan went by without a hitch. They heard the automated voice of superficial kindness, which stopped abruptly to the sound of an android powering off. Its body fell to the ground to reveal Allen standing behind. Without wasting a second, he leaned over and typed furiously on the keyboard of the computer.

Trouble finds trouble

“Lemme see if this has a log of everybody who came by...” A few moments later, he started nodding at what he saw. “Bingo...” On their private encrypted server, stored the history of all the guests who booked a night. “Well, what do you know... Alfred checked out two days ago. But he’s on the move.” Pulling away to stand up straight, he jogged over to the exit.

“Even if someone tried to look for him in one a’ these places, he’d have to get behind the reception and do exactly what I did.” This someone referred to Matsumoto, but death already followed Alfred wherever he went. Not that Alfred knew that. “The perks of a no-tell motel. Even if they reek of piss, so long as there’s crime, they’ll never go out of business.” He beckoned Arthur to follow him with a tilt of the head.

“One down, twenty-seven more to go. And that’s only in the direction he’s going... And under the assumption he’s only staying at these motels. So, uh, let’s hope he didn’t try to be too unpredictable.”

The Brit huffed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“I think he’d be predictable to do that if you asked me.” He murmured. “But you call the shots. I’ll just be... Moral support.”

Allen already disappeared out the door, but his head poked into the doorframe at that. “Nah. You have the most important job outta’ the both of us.”

That was right. He didn’t tell him yet. He really should’ve a while ago, but he got caught up in the chase.

“Whether you remove a chip from his head or not will determine if he lives or not.”

Arthur paled.

“He’s the guy my boss wanted me to kill. Remember the dude I told you about? The one who tried to steal a prototype chip three years ago?” Now that he mentioned it, he recalled the conversation a few weeks ago. But wait a minute.

The mechanic felt his face scrunch up as he was hit with a major epiphany. That was Alfred? The terrorist Allen had been updating him about? He was the man who tore up three floors of the headquarters of Matsumoto Optics, and simultaneously, the same customer he had been serving for the last few years.

Before he could even process his shock, he was presented with even more appalling information.

“He stole it this time. That’s what he and (F/N) disappeared to do. But now that it’s in his head, it’ll overwrite his consciousness until he’s a fucking vegetable.”

Arthur was horrified. “Then why would he even--”

“Because he doesn’t know.” Allen cut in with a grim expression. “He thought the chip was supposed to give him immortality, so he wanted to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Like my boss. But no. It’s the opposite. It was all a ploy to kill him.” At this point, the blonde was at loss for words. As a doctor and mechanic, he was quite frankly terrified of how devilishly clever Matsumoto was. But he couldn’t expect any less from him, could he?

They made it back to the car, and he could only stare aimlessly out the windshield, paralyzed.

“That’s why we need you.” He heard him say. Turning to the man, albeit slowly, he felt a hand slap down on his shoulder. Allen gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re the smartest guy I know, second to my boss. You were always great at fixing stuff. Cars, enhancements, people--so what’s a mixture of all three?”

Arthur dug a hand through his hair stressfully. “... You’re kidding.” And yet, he already knew he was on board. “... Are you calling him a car?”

The other flattened his lips. “... He technically could be.”

“Just to be clear, I fucking hate you.”

Allen laughed. “Sure.”

“But otherwise, we’re wasting time.” He couldn’t believe the words falling from his lips. This was really happening, wasn’t it? After taking him in as an apprentice for his auto shop, the roles were finally reversed. He no longer took charge as the teacher. Or rather, he became the student caught up in the most difficult assignment yet. Having a taste of Allen’s work.

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

***

Tower Lockdown

You had all the reasons in the world to be anxious coming home.

On top of worrying over Alfred, who had hundreds of trained assassins coming at him all at once, during every minute of the heist, you had to face an aspect of reality you avoided until now. You were in the building, and he had already stolen the chip. It was slotted comfortably in his head, ready to leave the premises.

How come your father never appeared? Was he really just going to let you go just like that?

But the real question was this--should you stay or leave?

Yes, you hardly approved of anything he’d done. Done to the world like Alfred always mentioned, and to Alfred himself. But you weren’t prepared to abandon him yet. He was still your father, and the only family you had. If you had to make a decision, you needed some closure. If not, a discussion.

And you expected him to give it to you as the least he could do.

As Alfred stood among a pile of dead bodies bathing in red, his mantis blades trembled against a katana blade. Even with his hands full, he made the time to check on you. “(F/N)! Stay away from walls! Just hang on for a second longer!” He shouted, turning to you briefly before diverting his attention back to his opponent. “We’re nearly home free!”

Pulling away to give him a swift jab in the chest, blood sprayed onto his face, but he wasn’t fazed.

What did, however, was the sight of you being thrown over the shoulder of one of the bodyguards. Color drained from his face and he burst into a sprint.

“(F/N)! No!” Watching you disappear into an elevator, he slammed right into the closing metal doors. “Fuck!” He slammed his fist against them to hear a loud bang. Before he could linger too long, he hastily made his way to a door adjacent. The emergency stairs would take a hell lot longer, but as if he’d wait for the elevator to come back down.

Even if he needed to climb up a hundred flights to get to you, he would--all the way to the penthouse where Matsumoto was.

When those men approached you, there was no struggle on your end. You knew where they were going to take you. And you wanted them to. It could even be said you were relieved, because that meant your father was thinking of you. After a minute or so, the soft whirring fell silent, followed by a soft ‘ding’.

They moved outside the elevator, and after a few steps, they set you down on your feet. Right in the middle of your father’s office. At the very end behind a desk sat the man himself, and he was eyeing you with an unreadable expression. Upon returning his stare, came an onslaught of emotions. But the most prominent was incapacitating anxiety.

Even as his daughter, you could never see through him. He was impossible to read. So you had no idea what to expect.

“Dad... We need to talk.” You began, walking up to him warily. This was what you wished for at the start, cried for, even. To return home. And yet, the nervous pounding in your chest seemed to worsen with every step you took. It was jarring to confront how much had changed since then. So while you barely managed any words, you were already overwhelmed, struggling to choke back tears.

“For once, I need to know what you’re thinking.”

He inhaled deeply before responding. “I was under the same impression that we’d have this conversation.” Standing up from his chair, he furrowed his brows at the sight of you clenching the fabric of your pants. “Don’t look so nervous, child. You haven’t done anything to anger or disappoint me.” Reaching out to your head, he settled a hand on it.

“... Really?” You whispered out. Hearing his assurances calmed you down a touch. But when you saw the forlorn gaze he cast down at you, your heart was crushed. “... Dad?”

Me!Me!Me!, Pt.2

Any existing contempt for him melted away just like that, but you weren’t upset at yourself for it. Your father hardly expressed any emotion besides calm indifference. And when he did, it always felt like the world was ending.

“I’m the one who deserves your anger.” He clarified, lowering his hands to your shoulders. “I’ve left you by yourself for far too long, (F/N). I hope you don’t hold it against me that you had to come home yourself.” You hung your head, unable to meet his saddened gray eyes. If you were to hold a grudge at him for it, you’d start by avoiding his gaze. “And I understand why you would’ve wanted to help him. He has a way with words, and a naïve sense of justice. But it’s a warped perception of reality.”

You’d hate to admit it, but no matter how cruel he seemed to be, there was a method to his madness.

And you were perhaps the only person in the world to know it.

That was why you were so torn. Torn between hating him and understanding him. After all, you couldn’t have both. “You can’t blame him after what you did to him.” Glancing up at that, you felt bile rise in your throat. Then, your vision blurred. “I don’t know what you’re aiming for--for this company, and this world. But you can’t expect him to accept this world you created when you stole him from his. He had a life!”

Staring at him through hot tears, he breathed out a soft sigh before rubbing them away with a swipe of the thumb. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness. And I won’t expect you to forgive me even after telling you the reasons for my actions.”

He pulled away from you to begin walking back to his desk, but not to sit down. Instead, he stood by the window to watch the blinking lights of skyscrapers and small moving dots of cars on the streets. “In a society that normalizes cybernetic enhancements, many forget what it is to be human. He never did. So of course, he would reject the idea of immortality. The destruction of the most human quality there is.”

He paused briefly to scan the landscape.

“Mortality. One’s inevitable end gives everything they do meaning.”

Wrinkles creased between your brows. It was confusing to hear him speak so highly of death, frustrating, even. Wasn’t he the one investing billions into correcting it like a flaw? “If that’s what you really think, then why? Why would you make something that would take that all away?”

He held his hands behind his back. “To serve the greater good. A sacrifice, if you will.” The man turned to you, this time with a serious glower. “Alfred thinks I would commercialize it. Sell it to the public. But he’s wrong. Immortality will only be available to the leaders of the world.”

By leaders, you could only assume he meant people like him. Not politicians, but business men and women. Company owners. The most powerful forces of the present. “The inability to die is a curse. You never move on because you’re still breathing. But that may be just what the world needs. Stagnation. An absence of change.”

It was daunting to know this man was your father. You couldn’t say you were born with half as many of these attributes he had. Intelligence was easily passed down, but there was something else written in his genes you could never dream of having. “With every passing year, decade, and century, humanity frays like a rope. Society continues to deteriorate... All until self-destruction becomes a matter of time.” Facing the window again, he scanned the impressive architecture he was proud to call his own. And it looked as pristine as it did yesterday.

“The only way to stop this was to take control of it myself. And that’s how I came to found this company. I’ve found a way to govern the people. To invest in science as the world’s last and only hope. But it’s a job that will last eons, so I was prepared to do it until the end of time.”

He was right in saying that society was inevitably doomed with the direction it was heading. That technology was the only solution, along with a world government. Matsumoto Optics. A cosmocracy with jurisdiction over the whole planet. There would be no wars. No conflict. And with only one state to call the shots, things could be done so much faster on a global scale.

It was a radical concept to grasp, but you couldn’t say there was no logic to it. “Alfred was meant to do it with me. To reincarnate again and again as my closest aide on my quest to preserve the world. But he ended up being the opposite. My foil.” Matsumoto shook his head. “Alfred is a nostalgic soul. He’s too attached to the past. But the way of the old can never last with how fast it makes the world burn. Even if he realized that, he would want to exact revenge on me after what I’ve done to him.”

“So before he destroys everything I’ve created, I have to destroy him first.”

Him & I (with Halsey)

You tensed up all over, but before you could ask him what he meant by destroy, the doors burst open. The very subject of the conversation had appeared, and just in time for the conclusion of it. His arrival caught you completely off guard, successfully derailing your train of thought, but your father merely acknowledged his arrival. “Ah. Speak of the devil.”

“Speak for yourself, you fucking demon.” He spat, marching over to your side to pull you into his chest. Immediately putting his hands all over your face, he was riddled with concern as he inspected you. “You okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you in time. What are you still doing here? C’mon, let’s go.” While he reached down to your hand to lead you away, you stayed put.

As relieved as you were to see him here, you couldn’t follow him out yet. You gave his hand a squeeze, then a soft smile of reassurance. Then, you turned to your father.

This time, you held him in a firm stare.

“Even if everyone thinks you’re crazy, I always knew you’d have some kind of justification for everything.” You started. Little did you know, you would take back this statement in the very near future. “But I can’t forgive you for what you did to Alfred. He never ended up doing anything you wanted him to, so giving him all those adjustments was pointless for you. But not for him. If you wanted to get rid of him, it wouldn't be easy.”

Matsumoto closed his eyes as if to agree. That was what you interpreted it as, at least. But unbeknownst to you, he was doing anything but. “I wouldn’t know what’s best for this world.”

“But what I do know is that I won’t let you hurt him.”

You spoke those words with a conviction so strong, Alfred’s eyes widened when he heard it. It wasn’t news you cared deeply for him, but to hear you say it to your father like that, and Matsumoto, no less, it made his mechanical heart pound more than he could fathom. You were actively disobeying him, a man you previously revolved your life around, for his sake. To say he was infatuated would be an understatement.

You felt his grip on you tighten.

“Say what you will, and I’ll respect your conviction. But I will come for him.” The bearded man murmured in a foreboding tone. A sinister light glinted in his dark gray irises. “And in the most unexpected way he could ever imagine. You will never want to see me again when that happens.”

“If.” Your voice was a little strained. As much as you wanted to hate him and move on, you couldn’t. Every single fiber of your being was urging you to find a reason, any reason, to not despise the man who raised you. “If, dad. Because if you did, I really will never forgive you. I’ll hate you forever.”

A grim expression contorted at his face. In his many decades on the planet, he’d never felt more dread. But one had to wonder if that was the right word. The regret had already arrived, because he’d already done something unforgivable. It was only a matter of time before you’d find out. “I’ve already done something to earn your unconditional hatred, child.”

That was right. He’d killed Allen, your best friend and only other semblance of family in your life. And perhaps, the person you held the closest to your heart. “Soon, you will learn what it is. So I’ll let you leave today because you will never want to come back. I’d imagine that to be more… Convenient for you.”

It was only your ignorance that blessed him this last moment. The last moment where you’d see him as your father with eyes unclouded by hatred. But it was short-lived.

It didn’t take long for you to put two and two together, and in your short silence, you came to remember someone that had been gone for a while. Allen.

Atlantis

You woke up in a cold sweat. For just one measly second as you oriented yourself, you weren’t tortured by a fury. Betrayal. Disgust. But it all came rushing back to you like the memories of that Godforsaken day you met with your father.

Sitting up with a deep frown, you felt heat build up around your face. It would be etched in your mind forever. The memory of Allen laying in the dump. Tossed out like a broken toy. Then, the stench of blood and rust as he was left for dead.

You always knew your father was mad, but he kept on surprising you with how mad he was. Turning to the figure beside you, tears only overwhelmed your waterline to see his chest rise and fall steadily.

He was still here. Alive and well. You could only hope the same for Allen.

It had been ten days since the heist. There hadn’t been a single sign of Matsumoto or his men, meaning Alfred really did do his research on the best places to hide. Climbing onto his form, you wound up laying on his chest. Then, you peered down at his sleeping face.

As you got comfortable, you felt a smile creep onto your lips. If the you from a few months ago saw what you were doing, she’d be flabbergasted. Since when did you like him this much?

Your cheeks grew a little rosy as you became self-aware of the position you were in. Full-on embarrassment hit you when he began to stir, but before you could get off of him, his eyes fluttered open. Uh oh. Now this warranted an explanation.

For a second, he was confused, but when he saw that it was just you, he grinned lazily. “Morning, babe. Care to tell me why you’re not sleeping on your side of the bed?”

He’d totally cornered you. And did he just call you babe? “Um... I, well... I woke up on you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I was just about to get off.” Sliding yourself off of him at that, you tried your damndest to simmer down. But he never gave you the chance. Rolling over to face you, he pulled you in around your waist much to your surprise. “Hey!”

You never got around to pointing out that pet name, either.

He caught you in a serious stare. “Don’t be so shy. We’re close, aren’t we?” Alfred was never one to beat around the bush. You knew that better than anyone, but that didn’t mean you were used to it. Lowering your head at that, you fixated on his chest.

“... I guess so. That doesn’t mean I can sleep on you like that, though. And plus, it must’ve been uncomfortable.”

“Nah. You’re light as hell.” He hummed. Sitting up with you on his lap, his statement became more apparent in how effortless he made it seem. “You’re like a few grapes, really. So don’t worry about it.”

Why he chose to focus on that part of your argument was beyond you. Did he really not see anything wrong with what you were doing? Or maybe he did, and didn’t want to mention it. He’d been hugging you a lot lately the past week, but that wasn’t as deserving of your attention as spooning you while he slept.

Wasn’t he pushing the envelope? It would make sense he was just trying to comfort you after your run-in with your father, and your discovery that he was the one who attempted to off your best friend. But wasn’t this a bit much?

He wrapped his arms around your neck. There was nothing between you both, and yet, he was holding you like there was. Like you were his.

"...” It was in his smile. It was different to how he always looked at you, as if there was finally something behind those electric blue irises. Something alive. Something hot. As you played around with the idea, you lit up like a Christmas tree and pushed his mouth away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Almost as if he read your mind, he relented. But only reluctantly. Picking you up from under your arms, he set you onto the mattress so he could get out of bed. Looking back at you over his shoulder, he gave your cheek an affectionate pinch. “Whatever you say. I’ll be back after a piss.”

When he left the room, you were left to your own devices. As you brought your knees to your chest, you came to realize how tight it was. He’d only left for a few seconds, and you were already waiting for him to return. It was ridiculous to think about, but it was almost as if you missed him. Already.

Did spending all this time with him give you some kind of separation anxiety?

Or was it something more?

You couldn’t tell.

The fact that he mentioned ‘I’ll be back’ suggested he was aware of your attachment to him. You buried your face into your knees.

Turns out, you weren’t the only one having a hard time processing your feelings.

When he disappeared into the bathroom, he pressed his back against the wall. Reaching up to his chest, he scrunched up a part of his shirt as the pounding in his heart subsided--his metaphorical one. Alfred didn’t think it was weird to find you on top of him like that, let alone dislike it. In fact, he loved it. It gave him a shred of hope that maybe, you did like him the way he liked you.

But that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t be with you.

This was the fifth motel he’d been to after the heist. There was no saying he’d be dead by the end of the day. Not when your father was after his head. So he wasn’t about to start anything. That would be too selfish, even for him--though one had to wonder if ‘selfish’ could even describe him anymore. He was anything but. At least, for you he wasn’t.

Alfred would only be proven right when he took a step towards the toilet. His vision started to glitch. Then, he lost his balance, falling over the sink and slamming his head against the mirror. “Fuck--!” Stumbling back onto his feet, he was engulfed in black for a few seconds. What the hell was going on?

His bout of disorientation lasted for far too long to be normal.

Before he would start accepting the prospect of going blind, his vision returned. He thought he would celebrate that moment, but he forgot what he was even fussing about. What happened? Lowering his gaze to his hands, he stared at them for a while before looking back up. What was he doing here? Where was he?

That was right. He was in a motel. With you. Running away from uncertain death. It took a minute or so to recall all of these things, and that was what alarmed him. It seemed like his body wasn’t accepting the chip very well.

Temporary memory loss and blindness was just apart of the transition, right?

Little did he know, it was anything but.

Outside that very district sat two men in a car. Bags hung under their dull eyes as they scanned the streets as vigilantly as their sleep deprivation let them. It had been two days since they slept, but they wouldn’t rest until they found him. There were only four days until the damage was done.

If they didn’t get to the man before then, he would be as good as dead.

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spruceplank · 4 years

Text

Here is Home

Impulse isn't anything special. He does his job in simple but effective ways just like the machines he builds. He can't do anything special. He isn't anything special. So he keeps working until he breaks. And when he breaks, it's not a simple fix. When he breaks, he breaks beyond repair.

Warnings for: Temporary character death, starvation, and overworking to death

Fic below read more and ao3 link in the replies! (8955 words)

Tango is like fire. He's warm and bright. Strength visible even when the embers smolder down under the weight of the world. A comfortable warmth and the crackle of burning logs of a fire in the winter. He should burn with every touch he gives but instead there's only warmth seeping through his fingertips like lava flowing down a mountain side at every passing touch.

Zedaph is like the wind. Soft and gentle summer breezes yet also fierce and howling storms. Ever changing and shifting through anything to reach his goals. Pushing anything and anyone forward with ease, his strength unwavering just as his faith. At his softest he eases calmness into weary souls and at his most energetic he's a whirlwind dragging the world with him.

Impulse isn't anything special. He can't provide strength through words alone. He can't do fancy tricks with his creations or build amazing things that make people stare in awe. His machines simply do their job just as he does. Working until soreness is so deep in his bones he would feel off without the constant background aching. He works and works to even measure up to being a fraction of what the others can be. Toiling away at perfect farms with exactly just the right amount of productivity to be simple but still effective. He builds farms as easily as he could build a crafting table at this point. The repetitive labor and click of redstone signals make him feel as if maybe he's doing something good enough to measure up to the others. Maybe this will be enough.

But it's never enough. Not when he looks at the desert he helped Bdubs and Tango to level out for Cub. Where there's now a massive pyramid full of mini games that only seems to grow by the day. Not when he enters the shopping district and sees grass where mycelium used to be. Where there's mini diamonds hanging from the trees and the diamond throne looming over him from town hall. Not when he sees the other's builds, with their massive scale and detailed nature.

He shifts his entire base one block and even though it takes hours and hours of work it feels like nothing compared to what he's seen the others make. He builds more and more farms so he doesn't have to think about that. He only works and works until he runs out of blocks. Then he gathers more resources then he'll ever reasonably need and works until those are gone too.

Tango and Zedaph come over and force him to sleep occasionally but he usually doesn't sleep long to begin with. There's too much work he has to do. Sometimes he doesn't even know what he's working on anymore. What's even the point? But he doesn't stop and think about it. He only works harder. He's nothing special, just like the machines he builds. He does his job in simple but effective ways. He works and works and works some more. His bed remains untouched and his food supply runs dangerously low but he doesn't pay any mind to those. He still has more work he needs to do. He always has work he needs to do.

He isn't anything special. He can't fly as if it's second nature like Grian can. He can't build castles on cliff tops that look as if they're paintings like Bdubs can. He can't tune note blocks so they play songs in a constant flow of melodies like Etho can. He can't craft art from blank sheets like Beef can. He can't make armor stands into scenes of life like Cleo can. He can't spin words and wisdom into poetry like Joe can. He can't wield a sword as easily as breathing like False and Wels can. He can't do anything special. So he keeps working.

He doesn't realize he isn't like his machines until it's too late. His machines aren't alive, they don't need to do anything other than work. He isn't like his machines at all. His machines run and could run forever if he needed them to. He had forgotten he can't do the same. He can break. And when he breaks, it's not a simple fix. When he breaks, he breaks beyond repair.

ImpulseSV died of starvation

TangoTek: Impulse buddy? You good?

Renthedog: Did you forget to grab more food when you grabbed more supplies or something dude?

FalseSymmetry: Should someone go check on him?

Iskall85: Probably should, it's not like any of us should starve to death.

StressMonster101: Iskall's right, there's never a shortage of food on this server why would he have died from starvation?

Zedaph: Impulse? You there?

iJevin: Would he have dropped his communicator before respawning?

Cubfan135: He would've respawned with it if that were the case.

Grian: Impulse? Can you tell us you're at least reading these?

GoodtimeswithScar: Who's the closest to his base?

Whisper from TangoTek: Imp? Buddy? You okay? You're kind of freakin me out with the silence act.

Whisper from Zedaph: Impy please respond you're worrying me.

XisumaVoid: I'll teleport over to him since he seems to not be answering give me a moment.

MumboJumbo: What are the odds he just has his communicator on silent?

Docm77: When you respawn it automatically shuts that off, it can't be on silent.

Teleport XisumaVoid to ImpulseSV

Teleport failed

Teleport ImpulseSV to XisumaVoid

Teleport failed

XisumaVoid: Whoever is near Impulse's base head there now I can't teleport

iJevin: On my way

Keralis: Shishwammy can't teleport?

XisumaVoid: Something in the code is glitched, but for the life of me I can't see anything wrong with it

iJevin: Uh X I need you here now

Teleport XisumaVoid to iJevin

TangoTek: X? Is Imp okay?

Zedaph: Jevin? What's going on?

iJevin: He isn't here

Bdouble0: I'm in the shopping district should I go look for him?

iJevin: No, his stuff is here, but he isn't

ZombieCleo: What does that mean?

XisumaVoid: It means he didn't respawn

There's nothing. He's aware of nothing and knows of nothing. He merely exists. He thinks he should be somewhere but he doesn't know where. He doesn't have the energy to figure it out. He should just go back to sleep. That's what he'd been doing right? That's what he should do. He should sleep. There isn't anything else he needs to do. He isn't anyone who needs to be anywhere. He can simply sleep.

"What in the… What are you doing here?"

There's a voice. It's familiar but different. Rougher, sadder, more tired than it should be. He thinks he knows the voice. But he doesn't know who. He doesn't have the energy to place the voice to a name. He doesn't even have a name.

"Hey, Hey…… Wake up…… Hey…….. Wake up……"

He can't wake up. There's no need for him to be awake. He doesn't need to wake up. There's no reason for him to keep going. He doesn't serve any purpose. He doesn't do anything necessary. He isn't anyone special.

"Dammit you're really going to make me take you back myself aren't you?"

He doesn't have anywhere he needs to be. He doesn't belong anywhere. He isn't anyone special.

"When X bans me again, I will find a way around it to come make your life miserable."

Someone grabs him. He didn't realize he was simply floating until now. There's something hard yet slightly warm beneath him. Arms under him that hold him up. He feels weightless as he did before. He doesn't have any reason to fight. He simply doesn't care enough to move.

"You're lucky my brother is too much of a derp to realize he needs to ban me again to keep me out of the new world."

Brother? He doesn't know anyone with a brother. Actually he doesn't know anyone at all. He doesn't know anyone or anything. He simply is and that's all there is to know. It's easiest this way. Simple yet effective.

"I don't know what you managed to do that's caused you to wind up like this but if I have to deal with my brother and your friends asking me thirty thousand questions you owe me another one on top of this for bringing you back."

His friends? What is a friend? Does he have those? And bring him back where? He's already where he needs to be. He doesn't need to do anything or be anyone. He is simply here. He can just sleep.

"You really are all perfect for each other huh? Just a bunch of derps. I'm taking your things for the headache dealing with the rest of your derp family is going to give me when I had no part in this."

His family? He didn't have a family. He was alone.

"Forget it, clearly your code is more messed up than even I thought it was finding you in the void."

His code? The void? Nothing made sense. The arms under him gripped him tighter against a hard surface. It should hurt shouldn't it? Yet it was familiar in a comforting way. He could hear a steady beat echoing in his mind. He should go back to sleep. The arms around him tightened but only silence answered him as he finally drifted away.

"Exy!" Zedaph calls delighted at the man's sudden appearance. His delight crumbles into fear as he notices the sleeping figure in Ex's arms.

Though he momentarily hesitates, Ex simply forces his nerves away with an eye roll and snaps at the blonde, "How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

"Ex, how, how are you here?" Xisuma stares at his brother in bewildered confusion. He had banned Ex hasn't he? But seeing his brother walk in with the very person he's been unable to find any trace of is a weight off his shoulders he didn't know was settling there.

"You didn't ban me from this world." Ex states as if it was that simple.

Tango ignores X's gaping, Zedaph's silent fear and pushes forward towards Ex. He glances at the still form of his best friend asleep and dead to the world before looking up at Ex. Tango's voice wavers between disbelief and hope as he asks, "How did you find him?"

"You said he wasn't where he should be so I looked in the place where things wind up when they don't know where else to go." Ex explains. He stands awkwardly in the doorway. Not quite moving forward into the room but not running away.

"You can read chat?" Xisuma questions.

"The place where things wind up when they don't know where else to go?" Zedaph asks right after. Both of them turn to look at each other before facing back to Ex with unreadable expressions.

"I can do all the things you can do Xisuma, don't tell me you've forgotten." Ex explains without actually answering. He sighs like it's enough to hide his feelings on the situation when he begrudgingly answers Zedaph, "Yes when things don't know where else to go they all end up in the same place."

"But you haven't done anything -" Xisuma starts but Ex is tired of this already.

"Because I don't want to do anything. I wouldn't even be here if I hadn't found one of your derpy friends lost in the void." Ex pushed back, voice raised over his brother’s. The two stare at each other as if having a silent conversation when Tango speaks up.

"The void? Why was Imp there?" Tango pushes looking between the two brothers.

"It's where things that have nowhere else to go wind up." Ex explains as if the answer is as simple as he puts it.

Zedaph stutters before anxiously speaking, "But he has a place, he has a home here. How did-"

"Ask him not me. I simply found him and brought him back." Ex states calmly over where Zedaph nervously trails off.

"Why though?" Xisuma questions like he's unsure if the person before him is actually Ex.

Ex rolls his eyes but answers his brother all the same, "Because he's just as much of a derp as you are and the void isn't a place for any human."

"But you were in the void." Zedaph counters, voice laced with worry.

"And I'm not human, don't lump me in with the rest of you derps." Ex complains.

Tango looks between the man in the entryway and his friend dead asleep to the world with worry, "Why didn't he respawn? Why won't he wake up?"

"His code's all glitched. Something went wrong somewhere. That or he didn't want to respawn." Ex answers Tango's questions though he faces Xisuma as he speaks.

"Can you fix the code?" Zedaph asks, voice hopeful.

Ex rolls his eyes at the blonde, "Not my job besides I don't have the right things I'd need to do it anyways. That's all on Xisuma."

Xisuma seems to relax for the first time since Ex appeared. He looks between his hermits and his brother who carries the sleeping form of another hermit gently yet protectively and makes his decision, "It would go loads faster if you stayed and helped me Ex."

"Like I said not my job." Ex pushes, eyes wary.

"Please help fix Impulse Exy." Zedaph pleads with hopeful eyes.

"I told you not to call me that!" Ex yells sharply but there's no threat behind his words.

"Just give it a rest Exy, it's not changing." Tango chimes in with a smile.

"You're both insufferable." Ex groans but doesn't move even as the other two surge forward to his side.

"And yet you still hang out with us." Zedaph comments cheerfully as he flutters to Ex's side and looks sadly at his friend who sleeps undisturbed by their conversation.

"Come on you three, let's move over towards the bed to work so we can let Impulse sleep while me and Ex work." Xisuma says, already walking the other way. Despite all of the hesitation before, Ex moves to follow without thinking.

"Wait, why are we coming there?" Tango questions looking between the two brothers confused.

"Because you two are going to tell me when and how you managed to get Ex to be your friend. I certainly don't remember this in the past." Xisuma informs his hermits with gentle warmth in his voice. He crosses the room without hesitation but rather new found confidence with the others not far behind.

"Wait why isn't Exy telling you?" Zedaph argues half heartedly. Fluttering along next to Ex with occasional glances at Impulse.

"He wouldn't tell me even if I threatened him." Xisuma says as if the answer is that simple. He stops on the other side of the bed they crossed the room towards, not paying attention to the others as the approach but rather pulling up screens of code at his fingertips.

With the same care he used carrying the man, Ex bends over to rest Impulse on the bed. At Xisuma's comment, Ex snorts, "What do you know, you can learn."

"Not even back five minutes and I already regret ever missing you." Xisuma fires back. His fingers dancing over holographic screens as numbers and letters blink in and out of sight.

"You missed me?" Ex asks warily, voice betraying him as it wavers. Vulnerable for a moment before it's gone again behind false bravado.

"Come on let's begin." Xisuma states, dodging the question. Fingers flick screens over the bed to his brother without hesitation.

"Just going to ignore the question? Rude, I can't believe I missed you too." Ex retorts, fingers already moving across the screens before he’s even finished talking.

"I didn't think you were capable of such." Xisuma fires back though there’s no heat to his words. There’s screens appearing and reappearing beneath his fingertips as he bickers with his brother. Occasionally he’ll swipe a few over to Ex who merely catches them with practiced ease.

Ex sighs, "You are just as insufferable as they are. Now are we fixing this or not?"

"Careful brother, someone might think you care." Xisuma comments, though his face is hidden by his helmet, it's easy to hear the smile in his voice.

"I hate all of you." Ex grumbles as he works.

"We love you too." Zedaph interjects smiling as he and Tango watch the scene in front of them with awe.

The two continue to work in the silence that comes to rest over the room. To Xisuma’s side another window pops up as Tango pulls out his communicator to update the others.

TangoTek: Good news Impulse will hopefully be okay

WelsKnight: Why does it feel like there’s a catch?

TangoTek: Well the bad news is I can’t say for certain yet

FalseSymmetry: But you guys found him?

TangoTek: Yeah he’s here

GoodtimeswithScar: How did you find him?

TangoTek: We didn’t, Ex did

Cubfan135: Ex? He’s here?

Zedaph: Yeah Exy’s here helping Xisuma

Iskall85: Exy? And you lived?

Renthedog: Only you Zedaph, only you

Docm77: X is okay with this?

Grian: Wait who’s Exy?

TangoTek: Exy or Ex is X’s brother

Joehills: Oh its brother now?

Bdouble0: But Impulse will be okay?

Zedaph: Hopefully!

Keralis: :D

Zedaph: :D

“If all of your hermits start calling me Exy I’m going to smite you all to the void.” Ex pipes up despite having not looked away from the screens in front of him.

“Your threats would hold a lot more weight if I couldn’t tell you were lying.” Xisuma points out, barely hiding his amusement.

Ex merely sighs deeper before grumbling, “Your ban would’ve been a lot more effective if you had kept me in the void rather than simply keeping me out of that world.”

For once Xisuma actually stops working. His fingers pause mid motion as the screens all slightly lower with his hands and he looks at Ex. He looks at his brother and carefully says, “That was never the reason for banning you and you know it.”

Ex however doesn’t stop working as he talks, “So you knew it was there.”

“Not until it was too late.” Xisuma slowly moves the screens back up and begins to work again. There’s a hesitation in his movements though and many unsaid things hang heavy in the air between the two brothers. Xisuma’s own regrets and sorrows smack dab in the middle as his voice nearly wavers.

“And when it mistook me for you?” Ex questions, still not looking up from where his fingers fly across screens.

Xisuma pauses again. He pauses and looks down at the ground, voice tight with remorse as he says, “I didn’t have any other solution.”

“You are the worst at dealing with your emotions, you know that?” Ex pushes several screens over to Xisuma but he pauses to look at his brother before going back to work for just a moment.

“You’re one to talk.” Xisuma fires back, fingers already zipping across the screens once more.

Ex pauses now. In a true mirror of his brother he looks anywhere but Xisuma before finally facing forward and questioning, “Did it ever-”

“Find? No, no it didn’t thankfully.” Xisuma cuts off with a short nod. Ex’s shoulders sag a little like he’s lost some of the tension he - no doubtly holds on his shoulders just as Xisuma does.

“Well at least that's one less thing to worry about.” Ex admits sounding almost relieved. The two work in silence for another minute or so longer until Ex stops suddenly with a whispered curse under his breath.

Xisuma’s eyes snap up to his brother, “Did you find what’s causing this?”

“Yes and you’re not going to like it.” Ex admits hesitantly, his fingers hovering over screens but not pushing them over.

“Let me see…” Xisuma trails off as he waves the screens over to himself, dismissing the others to the side. He reads whatever is on the screen quickly before sucking in a large breath and stuttering out, “...Oh my goodness me… how did you?”

“You got the same thing before you know.” Ex informs Xisuma like the knowledge they’re sharing is somehow dangerous.

“I did?” Xisuma questions.

Ex sighs, “Ages ago, but yes, you did.”

“But you fixed it, can you do it again?” Xisuma pushes, voice wavering slightly as he nearly pleads out right.

Ex shakes his head, “No I can’t, but you and your little hermits can.”

For the first time in several days, Xisuma breathes a sigh of relief, “Well I certainly don’t know enough about that to lead it well, you’ll just have to stay here and help me.”

Tango groans loudly. Interrupting whatever the two brothers would have continued to dance around with his dramatic gestures and loud accusations, “You two are the worst brothers ever! Can you not just say what you mean to one another and get it over with?! Or do you always have to speak in riddles around each other? Just tell him you want him to stay X!”

Xisuma recoils slightly at Tango’s accusations but attempts to stand his ground, "Tango you-"

Zedaph however is having none of it as well, "Exy would stay if you asked him to stay sincerely Xisuma. I know he missed you as much as you missed him."

They’re all interrupted when Ex barks out a laugh, "Your little hermits will never cease to amaze me with just how nosy they can be 'Suma."

"Well someone has to keep X from getting too lonely! We all know he'd never say anything on his own!" Tango grins widely at the brothers like he’s proud of this knowledge. As if it's something he will personally fix.

"Yeah! Just like you Exy!" Zedaph agrees with his own grin to the two brothers.

Ex glares at the two hermits and deadpan says, I'm going to smite you both."

Tango just laughs at that, "Cool, another threat of smiting for my tally board, now how do we fix Impulse?"

"We wake him up." Xisuma states.

"That's it? We just wake him up?" Zedaph asks in disbelief.

"It's not that simple." Ex pipes up looking pointedly at his brother.

Xisuma merely ignores Ex as he continues speaking to Tango and Zedaph, "He has to feel safe enough to wake up."

"Feel safe enough?" Tango questions slowly, sounding out each word as if they’re a foreign concept to him.

"But he is safe! This is his home!" Zedaph cries looking rapidly between the two brothers.

Ex merely nods down to where Impulse hasn’t moved, "And he has yet to even budge. It's not home enough for him."

"We have to help him feel safe." Xisuma informs his hermits, voice gentle yet unwavering as he says, "That's why I need your help."

Tango and Zedaph share a look before Tango turns back to the brothers with a wide grin, "Well what are we waiting for then? We have work to do, chop chop people!"

It's warm. A comfortable warmth like a fire in the dead of winter. There's the sound of half concealed laughter and hushed whispers swaying around him like a gentle breeze. He feels calm. He feels safe. He thinks of resting but something tells him he is needed awake. He's tired in a way he doesn't remember being tired before but if he's needed awake then he guesses he should wake up. How does he do that again?

There's movement at his side. Where is he again? He actually isn't sure this time. He doesn't remember the others insisting on a sleepover. Someone laughs nearby and it takes a moment but he manages to put a name to the laugh, that's Tango who's laughing.

"And he laughed at you? You sold the man some bones, accepted his sad payment of 12 bamboo, and he laughed at you?" Tango's voice is bright. Laughter caught between words as he speaks.

"Yeah he did, even showered himself with diamonds as I left. Mega annoying that hobbit was, glad to see him gone though his replacement isn't much better." Another voice loud and bright with laughter. He knows this voice as well but he can't think of a name for it. He remembers green and a solid presence. But a name escapes him. It bothers him that he can't seem to put a name to the voice.

"I do keep seeing it come up in chat, what even is hermit challenges?" A new voice asks and he knows this one too. Zedaph sits somewhere nearby, conversing with Tango and the other person.

There's a noise of uncertainty, "Your guess is as good as mine. I swear he just makes this stuff up on the spot."

"How does he say it again?" Someone asks but he doesn't hear well enough to know who.

"He-yer-metee-chall-eng-ges" The other person sounds out and he mentally yells at himself for not remembering who's voice that is.

"Hener-matey-chall-geng-ges?" Someone - Zedaph, attempts to a chorus of laughter.

"No, no start low and then go up" Someone encourages cheerfully.

"He-yer-metee chall-eng-ges?" The second attempt seems to work it as the others cheer.

"There you go!" Iskall exclaims loudly, hi-fiving whomever guessed right. Iskall, he knows Iskall, he knows these people. The other hermits. They're all trusted friends. This, wherever this is, as long as he's with the hermits, then that's home. This is his home. He is safe here.

As he blinks his eyes open, he feels like he hasn't seen light for years at the way it burns. Hissing he screws his eyes shut and groans at the sudden amount of pain he finds himself in. There’s the sounds of murmuring and shuffling as a hand comes to rest over his eyes, blocking out any light. A familiar voice not unlike one he remembers hearing before, speaks, “Easy there my friend give yourself some time to adjust.”

The voice is familiar but not quite the same as before; lighter and happier though still tired underneath. It's one of the voices he’d be able to recognize anywhere. His throat is sore but he still needs to be certain so he ignores the scratchy feeling in his throat and how horrible he sounds when he asks, “....X?”

“Yes, you gave us all quite the scare Impulse.” Xisuma informs him.

He can't remember what he did at all, “I… what happened?”

There's more shuffling and he thinks he hears a door but everything is already too loud as it is. He barely even gets his bearings well enough from a sudden spike of dizziness to hear someone say, “Well, we were hoping you could tell us that actually.”

“Zed?” He asks hesitantly. He can't be wrong about that being Zedaph's voice. He wouldn't forget one of his best friend's voices.

There's a relieved exhale before a warm voice speaks up as well, “Yeah and I’m here too buddy.”

“Tango? What’s, where am I?” He pushes verbally for answers as Xisuma still holds his hand over Impulse's eyes, not letting him even try to attempt sitting up.

“We’re at Bdubs’ little village.” Tango tells him. That makes sense, something about the air here felt familiar in a way. But he still has questions.

“Who else is here?” He questions as he tries to push against Xisuma who doesn't even move. He is so disoriented and confused. Why wouldn't anyone tell him more? Why did he have to push for answers? What happened?

“Everyone.” Xisuma tells him. Everyone is here? What happened? What weren't they telling him?

He's near panic when no one says anything else and he has to push for answers again, “Everyone? Why? What happened?”

“You died of starvation and I found you in the void.” A familiar voice states with no tone for doubt about the facts just shared. He stops struggling against Xisuma who holds him down merely by force of presence alone when he processes what he's heard. Actually for a moment, he nearly thinks it's Xisuma speaking but he knows it can't be. Aside from the clear change in tone and attitude, the voice sounds rougher, sadder, more tired than it should be.

“Wait… Exy?” He guesses though it's less of a guess and more of a reassurance he isn't completely delusional. Exy was here? What had happened that got Exy to show up? Wait he died of starvation? Wait Ex found him in the void?

Ex snorts and yep that's clearly Exy who hides his relief with annoyance, “If you wanted to thank me you wouldn’t use that terrible nickname anymore.”

He doesn't know how to process this information. He doesn't even know where to start, “I, how was I in the void?”

“Wait X,” Zedaph cuts in and Impulse can only assume he's the one who makes Xisuma let up. He is unsure what exactly he's slightly afraid of in the fact that X won't remove his hand from over Impulse's eyes but he is glad to be able to actually sit up, even if it's against a wall. Zedaph reaches out and grabs one of Impulse's hands, guiding it up to hold in front of him as something is pushed into his hold. Zedaph doesn't let go with the hand holding the outside of his own but uses his other now free hand to drag Impulse's other hand to help stabilize the glass bottle in his hold. He doesn't know what he's holding but Zedaph chuckles quietly and he feels himself relax a little at the familiarity. Warm hands pull away from his own as Zed speaks with soft reassurance, “Here Impy, drink this and eat something, you’ve been out for quite a while.”

“But-” He starts to argue though he's shot down immediately

“No buts mister!” Zed insists and Impulse knows if he doesn't listen with that tone he's not going to like it later.

Accepting his current fate of sitting in complete darkness and drinking some sort of potion (probably?), he still tries to get any answers he can, “Fine can someone at least tell me what's going on though? Why is everyone here? Why was I in the void?”

"We'll tell you after you drink that and eat something." Zed informs him with that same tone of voice that is very un-Zed like and concerning to hear.

"Can I at least get my sight back?" He tries, but it ends up sounding a lot more uncertain and afraid than he wanted it to.

"Impulse do you trust me?" Xisuma asks and that is unfair.

"Of course I trust you, I trust you with my life!" He insists not at all liking how this is playing out.

"Then trust me when I do this okay?" X continues and he does trust Xisuma with his life, that's not a lie but he can't help wanting to fight a little because there's something big that's happening or happened and no one is telling him anything! He wants to push and push but he loses all will to fight it anymore when he can hear X sigh in that same tired way he does when he thinks no one is around to hear and speaks in a quieter voice that's so unlike Xisuma he doesn't know what to do, "Please."

"Okay." He answers and that's really all he can do. Is answer and go along with it because he's downright terrified now. Did he kill someone? Did he hurt someone? Are they going to kick him out or Hermitcraft?

His mind's racing faster than his heart and he's sure his hands nearly grip the bottle in his hold so tight it'll shatter when there's a deep, aggravated sigh that can only come from Ex. There's a pause before he hears the floorboards creak and feels someone grab his hands and removes the bottle from them. There's a string of mumbled words he can't hear but knows that because it's Exy they're probably curses, when the bottle is shoved against his lips with a command, "Drink."

He really can't do anything but drink what he can now identify as a regen potion. He finally realizes just how awful he feels when it's effects start to kick in. Everything hurts. It hurts worse than any other pain he's known before and all the energy he thought he had falls away like sand beneath his feet by the time the bottles empty and he feels the potion take effect. He slumps backwards against what he previously thought to be the wall but now can tell is Xisuma's armor. His mind is still trying to go 3000 ticks per second but his body can't keep up and any panic he might've had fades into the background.

There's something warm and soft pushed at his hands again with another order he can't really refuse, "Eat."

Slowly he brings what he can tell, from touch and smell alone, is bread up to his face and eats. By the time he's handed several pieces and eaten them he feels exhausted. The hand on his eyes is long gone now, combing cold fingers through his hair instead and it feels nice. His eyes are long closed and would refuse to open even if he tried to do so. He is so tired. Maybe he should just sleep? He feels like he needs to ask the others something but it wouldn't feel so warm and safe if anything urgent was going on. Yeah, a little nap wouldn't hurt would it? He's out cold he even notices.

He actually sleeps this time. When he drifts in and out of awareness it's to shushing and soft reassurances he can go back to sleep. Sometimes the hand over his eyes is back and he's given something to drink or eat but for the most part he simply drifts in and out of various stages of awareness to the other hermits telling stories and talking.

"He's decided that instead of it being a proper punishment, it's now a problem I'm going to have to deal with and continues to make a mess in my base to store all these armor stands!" Someone, Cleo, complains with annoyance.

There’s a chuckle, from Cub, who then responds sounding smug, "Sounds like you might end up with a bit of a standoff there."

"I am going to turn your base into an underwater aquarium." Cleo threatens.

He fades back out of awareness. He wonders what the rest of the story is. He wonders if the others know he can hear them sometimes. He wonders if the others miss him.

He hears a laugh, that’s Mumbo’s laugh, and then he hears Mumbo ask, "How did you think to add mini mushrooms? What stroke of genius inspired you that much?"

"The mini mushrooms? Oh you mean the end rods and small block combo? They weren't really planned, I just happened to come up with it on the spot. They do look absolutely amazin' though I agree!" Scar says with excitement. He thinks he can hear Jellie purring but he isn’t sure.

“I- What? On the spot! Really?" Mumbo sputters in disbelief, sounding absolutely chuffed to bits as the man liked to say.

He wants to wake up. He wants to pay attention to these stories and conversations but even still, he's so tired. He can't even try to fight as sleep pulls him back under into nothingness.

There's a loud and exaggerated voice that only can belong to bdubs as he's telling a story, "So he gives me a bed, you know I love beds, and then later he asks me to sleep and of course I can't say no to that! Who would I even be?!"

"You didn't know about beds blowing up in the Nether?" Doc questions and he doesn't need to see to know Bdubs' annoyed reaction.

"NO! I DIDN'T! Why would it blow up? Of all things! Blow up? WHY!" Bdubs cries angrily only to be shushed by many people.

He wants to talk back. Wants to input his own thoughts and laughter into these exchanges. He misses the others. He hopes they miss him too. But, they all sound fine without him there. They all continue life as normal.

"So you like smooth jazz?" Etho asks.

Grian laughs and he can just imagine the look on the prankster's face when he answers, "If you can actually make note blocks sound like jazz music I'll let you put an automatic free glass sample under the entryway to the barge."

Etho chuckles quietly, "Now we're talking."

At some point he thinks they all seem to be enjoying themselves. They're all happy talking and chatting. They're all okay without him. He doesn't need to be here.

There's the slamming of a door against the wall that wakes him from his half asleep state with a startle. Loud footsteps echo as someone crosses the floor to yell, "Oh no you don't, not again!"

"Ex wait, he needs rest, don't-" Xisuma starts to interrupt but he misses what X says when Ex cuts over his brother's words.

Ex holds him up by his shirt and snarls, "Impulse if you even fucking dare think of leaving one more time I'm going to make you regret ever winding up like this in the first place!"

"Ex stop!" Xisuma orders but Ex turns his anger around on his brother.

With gritted teeth and a sharp edge, Ex pointedly tells Xisuma, "Stop me and you'll be following not long after him 'Suma. I will not stand here and watch it happen!"

Xisuma sputters, "But I-"

"Do me a favor and don't argue, we both know you'd be lying." Ex retorts.

"I…." X struggles to find the words to say as Ex simply huffs.

"That's what I thought." Ex says before he turns and grabs Impulse up by the shirt again and growls, "Impulse wake the fuck up or I'll flood Decked Out with lava."

"You wouldn't." He gasps, only half aware though his heart is racing.

"You know I would." Ex states as a fact and it's true, Impulse knows Ex would.

He struggles to find an answer as his mind can't seem to calm down from his abrupt awakening, "... Please don't, he's spent so long working on that."

"Always for others but never for yourselves. Why am I surrounded by fools?" Ex complains. He turns away, loosening his grip on Impulse as he yells over his shoulder, "Xisuma go get idiots one and three."

"Idiots one and three?" X questions.

"One, two," Ex says and Impulse can feel the finger Ex jabs at his chest on two before Ex finishes saying, "Three."

Xisuma sighs at Ex's nicknames before telling his brother, "Make sure he doesn't actually get up then."

"No I'll just let him up and about, of course I wouldn't! Now get!" Ex orders.

"Alright alright I'm going, goodness me." Xisuma's voice travels as he walks from the room, the door creaking slightly shut behind him but not closing all the way.

There's silence as Xisuma's light footsteps fade away before Ex turns back to Impulse, "So you figure out what happened to you yet?"

"I? What?" He asks, caught off guard by the question.

Ex helps him sit up right against the wall but doesn't let up the force behind his words, "You heard me."

He doesn't understand the question at all. He still can't see and now there's something noticeable over his eyes yet it feels more secure than a normal blindfold. Nothing about this is making any sense. Ex clears his throat and he rushes to at least answer with something, "No? Did I do something wrong? Why can't I see still?"

"Hardcoded blindfold, couldn't risk you hurting yourself trying to open your eyes." Ex explains quickly, sounding annoyed.

"Is this because I was in the void for a bit somehow?" He asks because he doesn't understand why Ex is so on edge suddenly. He doesn't know why he was dragged awake. He doesn't know what's even going on.

"A bit? You were there a week before I finally managed to find you." Ex informs him and he is immediately even more confused.

"A week? What-" He tries but Ex talks over him.

"Shut up and listen or I'll tell Xisuma I lied to him about what happened and you'll never find out the truth." Ex says on edge, words coming out as a hiss.

He gapes like a fish at where he assumes Ex before he connects enough of the situation to say, "Then start talking."

"It's called I.S. and I voided the original entry I dug up for 'Suma because I know he wouldn't be able to handle it so I lied to him about it. It's a glitch in the code of the world when an update comes through and invalidates part of a person's code, sending them to the void in a false ban." Ex explains so quickly that he fears he almost missed his inside as to what's going on.

"That's the lie?" He prompts, hopeful he didn't just miss his answers.

Ex groans but slows down his explanation to an understandable speed, "Yes, it's not an update glitch. It's an internally inflicted error glitch called Imposter Sequence. A player who meets a specific list of requirements and a certain percentage of difference in behavior is deemed by the internal protection of a whitelisted world as an imposter and banned from the world. Except due to how a whitelist works in the first place, it's a glitch. It's a glitch where someone who expresses extreme self doubt or self hatred who dies by working themselves to death through neglect to themselves winds up being soft banned from the world. You cannot return to the world or go to any other world. You do not respawn and you are not even aware of what's going on. You're lucky your admin happens to be a voidwalker or you would be dead by now."

None of that sounds real. It sounds way too extreme. Part of him admits to it being true but the other half still doesn't believe Ex. Not all the dots match up, "But you're the one who found me."

Ex curses under his breath before continuing his explanation, voice getting louder and louder, "Because my brother is just as much of an idiot as you are and has gotten himself in your exact situation before so I already knew what was going on. Furthermore, if you were in the void just a day longer before I found you, you would not have survived. The entry for Imposter Sequence in the admin code does not account for the admin being a voidwalker. The entry for Imposter Sequence ends by saying the player who is missing and believed to have become or been afflicted with Imposter Sequence is void banned. It's marked as a permadeath. Were you anyone else in the universe but a hermit who has two voidwalkers tied to their world you would be gone. You do not understand how close you were to being gone forever. You would've left everything and everyone behind. For what? For your own stupidity? You would have to be the biggest idiot in the universe to think that you weren't loved here, that you weren't wanted. You have one of the best possible lives and ways of living in this entire universe, do not throw that away as if it were nothing."

They wait in the silence. Only cut through by the sounds of their harsh breathing. His mind is racing and his head is spinning. Ex takes a few shaky breaths as he waits for Impulse to process what was just said. They're not alone anymore though as a sharp inhale echoes in the silence, "Ex…"

"Oh for fucks sake." Ex curses, rushed footsteps echo from across beyond room as Ex commands, "You two pull your heads out of your asses and make him believe, even a little, how wrong he was. I have a derp to find."

Ex leaves to go after Xisuma. Meaning he's now left alone with Tango and Zedaph who, based on X's reaction, have heard the whole explanation of what happened to him. He doesn't even know what to do other than wait for them to start yelling. Instead of yelling though, there's merely footfalls that come closer until they're at the side of the bed. He knows they won't hurt him but he's shaking because he's so afraid of what they'll think of him now. He screws his eyes shut tight and braces for something when there's a quiet whisper, “Imp…”

“You, you…” Zedaph starts to say. And he's so scared of whatever judgement he's about to face that his heart nearly jumps out of his chest when he's tackled backwards as Zed cries, “Absolute idiot! Impulse you big dummy!”

He barely manages to not smack his head unto the wall as Zedaph sobs into his shoulder, shaking like he's just as scared as Impulse is. “Oof, Zed, what-”

A hand on his shoulder makes him pause as Tango asks, “Imp, you don't really think that we don’t want you here do you?”

He feels like he's floating over the void after being blindsided by shulker bullets. He struggles to find the words to say, an explanation for his behavior, some sort of defense for his actions. But even to his own ears it all sounds like lies, “No of course not! We’re the hermits, we’re team zit, I just, I…”

“Tell us Impy, please, we’re a team remember. We face things together.” Zed pleads, his breath hitching as he hugs Impulse harder. He can feel the wet patch Zed’s tears have left on his shoulder and he feels horrible. He feels like the worst person in the universe because he made his friends worry and cry and suffer all for what? For his insecurity? He doesn't, he didn't think he deserved their support and friendship before all this. Now, now he finds it even hard to believe he deserves it.

“I just, I…” He struggles to say it. He can't admit this. Not to them, not to his two best friends. Two thirds of the whole they make, he can't do that to them. A part of his mind tells him that it's too late, that he's already done the damage and he thinks he's crying but he can't tell. He feels Zed hug him harder and Tango’s hand on his shoulder and he can't lie to them. He can't lie to these two. So he tells them the truth, “I just, I just don’t think I’m anything special that's all.”

He hears Zed’s breath hitch and can feel the way Tango seems to recoil as the hand on his shoulder grips tighter. Tango inhales sharply but he can't seem to find the words to say as he hesitates to say, " Impulse, buddy-"

He can't help but blurt out, "It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud but that's…"

That's why he's in this mess. Because he's nothing special. Because he's not like the others. Because he's not good enough. He's not good enough to be here. Not good enough to be a hermit. Not good enough to be their friend. Not good enough to be anything.

"Impulse what does the I in team zit stand for?" Tango asks suddenly.

"Me?" He hesitantly answers. Was it a trick question or something?

"Yeah, team zit can't exist without you. We'd just be ZT and that just sounds lame. You're irreplaceable to us. Not even just us but to hermitcraft as a whole." Tango says and he wants to believe it. He wants to believe it so badly.

"But…" But he doesn't believe it. He can't bring himself to believe it at all. He's not special. He's nothing special. Everyone else is so amazing and he's just, he's just here too.

The room is quiet and he prepares for the inevitable but it doesn't come. Zedaph lets go of him only to shuffle over to his side as Tango sits on the bed too. Both of them trap him in a side hug and he can't do anything but surrender his arms as the other two hug an arm each close to their chests. Both Zedaph and Tango take a hand into their own and hold it tight. He can't help the sharp inhale he takes as he's kept there in the moment by the hands holding his own.

It's Zedaph who starts talking first as he explains what happened after Impulse vanished, "There were set groups to explore different parts of the entire server all week. You died, never responded to chat, X couldn't teleport to you and then said you just hadn't respawned. We searched everywhere we could think of. Bdubs didn't even sleep until the third day when Etho more or less blocked him in and watched him so he couldn't escape. Ren and Grian didn't sleep at all and Xisuma had to teleport them back from tens of thousands of blocks away because they had gone so far X got a warning of how far away they were."

He's barely given time to process Zed’s words as Tango continues where Zedaph left off, "You're the one who's built so many innovations that so many of us use. The villager breeding system most of us use? You built it. The item filters most of us use? You built that? Your base itself is colossal and is full of so many different farms you had Doc and Mumbo looking like kids on Christmas when we all first got together to split into search parties. You can break bedrock without any fancy magic other than redstone and your own two hands. You owned the shop basically every hermit used in season six not to mention the gold farm. There are things you've contributed and things you've done no one else could do or has thought to do."

He feels overwhelmed. There's no way this is the truth but he can't even formulate why these two, his best friends, would ever lie to him as Zed keeps going, "The entire server stopped working for an entire week trying to find you. You vanishing had Xisuma more frazzled than either of us had ever seen and definitely more than the 1.14 update. Joe and Cleo had to knock X unconscious to get him to stop working. Cub and Iskall combed through the code for so long they started to talk in code too. We contacted other worlds and people and no one could find you."

“All of that, for me?” He wonders out loud in disbelief. Because he really can't believe it. Logically he knows they would have done that but emotionally he can't process that they would do that for him. They did that all for him.

Zedaph hums a noise of confirmation and says, “Had Exy not showed up when he did, Cub and Wels were set to go check the season six world so Grian and Doc could use the infinity portal or time machine to figure out what happened to you. No one was going to give up on you. So please don’t give up on yourself.”

He sits there struggling under the weight of their words. Under the actions of the others who had tried just about everything they could to get him back. He thinks he's going to be crushed under the realization of the impact his disappearance had on the others. But two hands squeeze his own in near perfect unison, and he barely manages to remember to breathe once more as all that weight vanishes. His face is wet from the tears he can't really even process as his own as everything comes back to him all at once. He chokes on all the things he wants to say, gasps for air like he's nearly drowned, and sobs out words he can only half understand himself, "I, I'm sorry. I, I didn't real- realize. Every, everyone suff- suffered because, because of me!"

"Oh Imp, buddy," Tango murmurs sadly. His friend inhales shakily before saying, "You don't have anything to apologize for."

"But, but I-" He tries to say but he can't speak through hiccuping breaths of air between his sobs.

"Impy you're not allowed to apologize for any of this. We're friends, we're family, any of us would do it again in a heartbeat no questions asked for you." Zedaph states so soundly he can't even begin to convince himself it's not true.

So he doesn't apologize. He merely sits between his two best friends and sobs his heart out. When he finally manages to stop crying there's a heaviness that comes over him as he thinks about how tired he is now. There's quiet whispers he doesn't have the energy to listen to as he's guided away from the wall to lay back down. He doesn't want to let go this time. Thankfully he doesn't have to as both his hands are squeezed hard and he's surrounded by warmth and the sounds of steady heartbeats. Here, he is safe.

There's a heavy blanket draped over them as hushed voices exchange words once more. Someone runs a hand through his hair and he feels himself relax even further into the bed. Here, he is loved.

In a flash of memories he can see so many scenes just like this one. Of being surrounded by his friends in comfortable quiet. He knows he can sleep safe and sound here. He knows he doesn't have to worry about anything right now. Here, is home.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfiction #hermitcraft season 7 #hermitcraft s7 #impulseSV #tangotek #zedaph #xisumavoid #evil xisuma #the rest of the hermits are more or less mentioned those are just the ones with a larger role #its all about the found family babey!#its also about that sweet sweet hurt/comfort dynamic #funfact i wrote this all mostly between the hours of 3 and 5 am over like a week #validate me please i crave acceptance of my creations by strangers on the internet #also a repost bc nev swore in the tags when he reblogged it from me and tumblr snapped it #smh gotta reply with my main smh smh

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nebraska-is-a-myth · 3 years

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My Eret Headcanons

These are just my headcannons for C!Eret and the potential of them being a descendent of herobrine and what that could entail for his and Philza’s relationship. This keeps me up at night thinking about it, so you can read this and suffer with me.

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Eret met philza first out of them all.

It was a long long time ago when Phil was known as the fearless young warrior that had been the first to slay the mighty dragon. Before he had retired to become a shitty father.

They had met in the void: Phil was on the hunt for herobrine, determined to put a stop to the terror he and his army inflicted onto the overworld, and Eret had been born there, alone. When Eret was younger he remembers wandering alone in the void. Their family had cast them out a few days ago for something they honestly can't even remember, but they knew they could never return. The void was nice, it was calming. Eret was neither warm nor cold, neither hungry or full, she could feel sleep calling to her, but her legs strode on nonetheless. The void was known for being endless and bland, numbness seeped into his every being with each breath. Walking for eternity was an option Eret had been avoiding for some time now. But then Phil had appeared from the endless mist and he had been so kind, offering warm touches and happy smiles. Nothing Eret had experienced back home. Eret hadn't understood Phil back then, not yet being exposed to the language of the overworld. But when Phil held out a map that looked similar to the grand fortress of the void, Eret had paled and shook their head frantically. Phil had calmed the small creature enough to understand that their panicked whimpers had been a warning. Eret had only been a small child back then, so they clung to Phil’s leg when he started walking towards the direction of the palace, ignoring Erets incomprehenable blabbering. Phil was confused at first, but continued on walking when the little creature wouldn't detach itself from him. When Phil had gotten more uncomfortable, he shifted Eret onto his back with a little protest from the child. On the small journey, Phil had started to try and teach the little child a few touches of English. Eret had learnt how to say “philza” with a little difficulty, and Eret had responded with a noise that Phil had understood as “Alastair”. Before long they arrived at the fortress and Phil could sense Erets discomfort. Instead of going through the main entrance, Eret hurriedly lead Phil to a gap in the wall of the fortress and mumbled words of encouragement to his new friend. Phil handed ‘Alastair’ a shiny golden ring from a pocket in his robe and placed it in Erets small hands with a soft smile and a comforting embrace. Eret wasn't sure what was happening at first when Phil’s arms had wrapped around them, it was warm and Phil smelled nice. Contact wasn't something anyone back home considered appropriate outside of the family home, even then it was rare. So Eret melted into the touch of phils soft arms, having not been held since they were a toddler. Eret still wasn't sure what Phil was doing, but they decided they liked it. When Phil pulled away, Eret tilted their head, hoping he would understand their confusion of the action. They watched Phils eyebrows knit together and his smile falls only for a moment before softly repeating the word “Hug”. Eret nodded, saying the word back confidently, bringing a smile to Phils face. Phil brought Eret in for another hug before standing back up and nodding. Phil had looked happy, so Eret stayed put, understanding that Phil would come back for Eret and his ring.

After a while of waiting for philza’s return, Eret grew worried and made the decision to follow their new friend into the depths of the fortress. But by the time Eret made their way into the grand fortress, both Philza and the tyrant Herobrine that had ruled the land with an iron fist had disappeared, leaving only a glowing portal in the great hall where blood stained the floor. The whiring of the glowing portal intrigued Eret, having only seen these portals from behind heavily guarded gates where soldiers like their father had been sent off to war under the orders of Herobrine. Would it be safe if they went through? Would they be punished on the other side? Would they even survive the journey? Eret glances at the ring in their hands, the purple light of the portal glints off of the shiny metal. The ring is far too big to fit on any of Erets fingers, but Eret runs their fingertips across the beautiful inscription of what appears to be a magnificent pair of wings much like Philza’s. They cannot read the writing, but something deep down tells them that this meant something to Phil, it looks old and worn but it has memories, memories that Phil entrusted them to keep safe. Eret looks around at the big empty hall. The void was lonely, it was dark and endless, Phil had been the first soul they had seen since they had been cast out. Spending a lifetime alone was something nobody wanted, it was something Eret themselves feared the most. It’s decided then, Eret must go through the portal and find Philza, returning the golden ring to their new friend. Eret took in a deep breath of hazy void air and took a step into the swirling magic.

For a second Eret thinks they've made a mistake. They feel like the magic is twisting their insides into slush. Their eyes flutter closed for a second, clutching onto the ring and the obsidian beside them before their being involuntarily pushed out in a bright harsh light. Erets eyes snap shut, every time they try to peel their eyelids open they feel like someone is burning a hole into the back of their head. It hurts and they don't know where they are and they can feel panic rising in their chest. They’re scared. All they can do is curl into themselves and stroke their finger over the indentations across philza’s ring. The heavy breathing goes on for a while, the feeling of loneliness once again creeping up on them. That is until they feel something press against their shoulder. They flinch as it comes in contact with their skin, fear of attack taking over their actions. The touch comes again but softer this time, in the hopes that it may be Phil they allow it to guide them into a warmer, darker place. They fall over their feet a few times, but they make it nonetheless. When the light dulls enough for them to open their eyes, fear sparks through them once again. They find himself trapped behind rusty iron bars. They’ve been locked away. No, no this can't be happening. They want to go home, to the void, anywhere but the disgusting cell that reeks of death and ash. They mutter words that the guards definitely don't understand and in retaliation they shout back in a language much harsher than Phil had used. They take to shouting Philza’s name, hoping they would recognize it or the man himself would hear them. He doesn't. Eret is alone, they don't see philza again.

At least, not until november 16th. The message on her communicator brings back memories of a place Eret had buried a long time ago, but she doesn't have time to dwell on it because in a flash the ground beneath her feet is gone and a blast sends her flying off the ground. Eret lands with a thump and a twisted ankle, but he’s sure his injuries are only minor compared to those closer to the blast. They’re a good distance away from the town center but they can see techno and tommy in the distance shouting about something that Eret cant bring themselves to listen to. Their back rests against an old spruce tree, and they sit staring at their communicator.

Wilbur was dead.

A choked sob rises in Erets throat. There were too many thoughts racing through his head. Panicked voices scream at him that Phil is going to recognize him, that he’s going to see the light behind his sunglasses and demand for Erets exile or execution. No one else knew of her past, how she was born in the void, a hybrid pretending to fit in with the humans. The rational side of them knew that so many other people on the server were hybrids, but even then some people feared techno for his bloodlust, and bad for his demonic nature. Eret couldn't be locked in a cage again, not after she worked so hard to move on and forget her past. The fear of her past life fuels her irrationality. But Phil was never like that. No he remembers that period in the void clearly, he remembers warm hugs and soft touches, and the ring. Eret rubs his thumb over the engravings on the ring that now sits comfortably on one of his fingers and takes in a deep shallow breath. This ring had been his rock for the past however many years they spent in the overworld. Human time works different from time in the void, so it never really was their strong suit. But they remember the aching in their bones of being in uncomfortable positions for long periods, and the dirt under their fingernails after a long day of construction. Through it all Eret had their ring and memories of someone who cared for them, someone to remind them that things change, sometimes from the better and sometimes for the worse. But was that all just an illusion?

Phil had shown them kindness and compassion.

But Phil had also killed wilbur.

Everything comes crashing down on Eret all at once, the one thing stable they had in their life collapses on them and suffocates every hope they ever had. The ring burns on their finger, the metal now glinting with lies instead of promises of a better life. God they were so stupid. They knew the likeliness of ever finding Phil again were slim, let alone be remembered by the man, but that hope and longing of someone to love them kept them going all these years. And now that hope was going to be the death of them.

Eret hears the screams of Niki and his friends and pushes his worries to the back of his mind, right now he must fight for the remains of what once was his home.

That night as the fighting finally comes to an end, Eret makes a decision. He decides to distance himself from philza, not ready to face the pain of being forgotten or exiled. He wasn't particularly happy with isolating himself either, but fear does strange things to a person.

But then ghostbur comes to him with desires of bringing back Wilbur and of course Eret will do whatever she can to bring back her friend. Sure soot may have hated her guts, but Eret wants nothing more than to hug him and feel his presence again. Not that she disliked ghostbur, but the phantom was a painful reminder of what once was and what could never be. And of course Phil wants to get involved with the resurrection of his son, of course he does, so Eret pretends he doesn't know Phil past what others had said about the man in passing conversation. Phil seemingly does the same, referencing so kindly how “Alivebur had resented him” and for a second Eret thinks they’re going be found out, that their time is up. But it never happens, Phil remains oblivious and Eret is constantly on edge.

It’s gotten to the point where Erets anxiety completely takes over and before they know it they’re at Technos arctic base and Ranboo is whispering something into Phils ear.

“I can't in good conscience let you onto this property Eret.”

No no please, Eret needs to do this, Eret needs to do something good, they need to get wilbur back. They need to..

“You're a king, and kings have power over others. It’s nothing personal.”

It is personal, they know it is, it's what they all say. Phil doesn't trust them, ranboo dosent trust them. They need to prove themselves, they have to, they can't be alone again. They just can't.

Maybe, maybe if she shows phil her eyes, if she reminded phil of the times before the smp, the times before nations and wars and sides. Before any of this where Eret wasn't the traitorous king and Phil was still the angel of death. Maybe Phil would remember Alastair, the child who helped him in another lifetime, the child he made a promise to, a promise to keep them safe.

So Eret takes a chance, he takes a chance with Ranboo, deciding to trust the Enderman hybrid, and he takes a chance with phil. She takes off her glasses, her crown tumbling down into the snow after them, and she pleads with Phil to let her help. She pleads not to be left alone again.

But Phil looks right through them. He stares into their whitened eyes and pushes them away just like everyone else, whispering jokes to Ranboo as Eret walks away with tears rolling down their cheeks. The promise made all that time ago had meant nothing to the man who Eret yearned for the most, they were left alone with nothing but a ring and false promises once again. Eret may have thought themselves unlovable and helpless in that moment, but they knew they still had a duty to his friend. To the boy who needed a father most. She was going to get Wilbur back, not for herself, not for Phil, not for l’manburg, but for Fundy. So Eret wipes her tears and sets off for snowchester, Eret could prove to Phil she was worth something, that she was worth remembering.

Eret had met Philza first out of them all, but Phil was the first to forget them.

#the eret #eret #dream smp #philza #dream mcyt #mcyt #I just love c!eret #they fill 90% of my brain #nebraska speaks

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tamiettitami · 3 years

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for this month's recommendations, i decided to go with the theme KISSES GALORE in honour of valentine's day. all of the below works have been posted in the month of february 2021 and hand selected by me <3

Sowing Discord by @chronologicalimplosion

A group of hyper-religious, homophobic protesters on campus ruins David's post-lunch good mood and he sends a half-joking message to the LGBTQ+ Discord server about staging a counterprotest. Constant lurker Patrick comes running.

Rated T for TEEN & UP AUDIENCES; 4,089 words; M/M; TAGGED for Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Original Characters, Alternative Universe, Alternative Universe - College/University, Homophobia, First Kiss, Epistolary, kind of

"This work features the inclusion of messages sent in Discord channels, a social media app I've never seen interrogated into a fanfiction piece before. The perfect balance of humour as well as tenderness makes this the ideal read to round out the month of love."

falling into place like dominos by @davidbrewer

Alexis spins the bottle and Stevie doesn’t know if she wants it to stop in front of her, or if she’s hoping it points literally anywhere else. She thinks she’ll figure it out when it stops moving, but… even with the neck of the bottle unmistakably pointing at her foot, she still can’t identify what the feeling is. Is that happiness or dread settling in the pit of her stomach? Since when do those completely different things feel exactly the same? If she’s being honest, though, it feels like a combination of things. It’s that feeling you get right before you do something you know you might regret later… like throwing back a jello shot (which she wishes she had done), calling an ex at 3am, or maybe jumping out of a plane.

David and Patrick hold a second housewarming party, this time at their newly-renovated cottage. For old times' sake, they decide to play spin the bottle. Meanwhile, Stevie has been wrestling with her feelings for Alexis since she left for New York... and it never occurred to her that those feelings could flow both ways.

Rated M for MATURE AUDIENCES; 4,897 words; F/F; TAGGED for Stevie Budd & Alexis Rose, Stevie Budd/Alexis Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Post-Canon, Lesbian Stevie Budd, First (Real) Kiss, Alcohol, Spin the Bottle, Queer Themes, Sexuality Crisis, (Although it's more of a frustrated confusing than a crisis tbh)

"The author's ability to voice every character (but specifically Alexis) will never fail to astound me; their inner voice for Stevie is the most notable in this work, however. Even the friendship/sibling dynamics between David and Alexis and as well as Stevie and Patrick are absolute perfection. One of the best 'Housewarming' codas I've ever endulged in and I can confidently says so."

Until I Lose My Breath by @the-kellephant

How could she have missed the fact that she was in love with Twyla?

Rated T for TEEN & UP AUDIENCES; 814 words; F/F; TAGGED for Stevie Budd/Twyla Sands, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Femslash February, Bisexual Stevie Budd, Lesbian Twyla Sands

"A lovely introspective piece about sapphic feelings and how they can often be blindsided by denial if not provided with the proper care or attention."

You can Stand Under my Umbrella by @agoodpersonrose

David thought the day couldn't possibly get any worse. But then it started to rain.

43. You both reach for the last umbrella in the store on a rainy day.

Rated T for TEEN & UP AUDIENCES; 2,721 words; M/M; TAGGED for Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, Tumblr Prompt, Meet-Cute, First Kiss, First Meetings, Awkward Flirting, Kissing in the Rain, Umbrellas, Fluff and Humour, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Prompt Fill, One Shot

"I have nothing to say besides this is hands down the most cute way this prompt could've been filled and I applaud Becca for her ability to write such tender moments in a way underlined with laughs."

Ten Tender Kisses by @cheesecurdsgravyandfries

Ten drabbles featuring ten tender kisses.

Rated G for GENERAL AUDIENCES; 1,110 words; M/M; TAGGED for Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Fluff, tender kisses, Canon Compliant

"Reading this was pure joy. The happiness I felt from the first drabble continued to grow the longer I scrolled which is truly a beautiful feeling. Their banter is so perfectly in character and the dynamic the author has created between David and Patrick is a skill I envy."

I Didn't Know it was a Crush, David by squigmistress

David and Patrick arrive home after The Premiere and David wants to talk more about some of the wild stuff Patrick said when he was high on pain meds. What he doesn't expect is Patrick's big, gay feelings. But damn, does he love him for it. OR Patrick needs emotional safety to process some feelings and, of course, David is more than happy to hold him through it.

Rated T for TEEN & UP AUDIENCES; 1,548 words; M/M; TAGGED for Patrick Brewer/David Rose, david rose - Relationship, Queer Themes, Coming Out, Episode: s06e05 The Premiere, Coda, Feelings, Feelings Realisation, Gay, Canon Gay Character, Family Issues, Intimacy, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Anger

"Now, I've always been a sucker for introspective works, but this took it to a brand new level. It's such a fine needle to thread; however, the author does an astounding job at cataloguing the growth/development of Patrick's emotions."

Be your remedy by @jessx2231

Patrick closes his eyes and brings to mind all the times David has put on music while Patrick is engrossed in a book or his phone or even the occasional weekend work task. Eventually, David will slink into his space, just enough to rest his head in Patrick’s lap. He doesn’t always do so with the intent to fall asleep, but it’s usually not long before Patrick’s fingers involuntarily find their way into David’s hair — much like they are now — and David’s breath will even out for a while.

He can definitely make an abridged version of that happen.

Or, David can't sleep and Patrick helps.

Rated G for GENERAL AUDIENCES; Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings; 2,048 words; M/M; TAGGED for Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Fluff, Established Relationship, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Married Life, very mild descriptions of depressive symptoms, but really just some very soft sleepy boys

"A warm hug is the best way I can describe this. Also, I already knew I need a Patrick Brewer in my life, but this solidified that."

the paths that your eyes wander down by @anniemurphys apart of falling in love at a coffee shop by them, @thankstwy, and @landofsonlali

Written for the prompt: "Twyla and Alexis reunite in NYC."

Alexis finds Twyla at a tiny corner table.

Rated G for GENERAL AUDIENCES; 568 words; F/F; TAGGED for Alexis Rose/Twyla Sands, Post-Canon

"The absolute perfect romantic comedy moment paired with some of the most in-character Alexis dialogue I've seen in awhile, not to mention how beautifully the mutual pining is broken."

a sense of expectation hanging in the air by Anonymous (i'll add the author once reveals are out for the Season 7 collection !)

Stevie starts to realize she has feelings for Ruth. How long though, will it take for her to tell Ruth that?

Rated M for MATURE AUDIENCES; 6,548 words; F/F; TAGGED for Stevie Budd/Ruth Clancy, Stevie Budd & Alexis Rose & Twyla Sands, Stevie Budd & David Rose, Stevie Budd & Patrick Brewer, Alexis Rose/Twyla Sands, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Making Out, Fluff, Texting, Female Friendship, Episode: s07e08 RMG, Workplace Relationship

"The support from Stevie's friends—Alexis, Twyla, David, and Patrick—is so incredibly lovely. Despite the secret crushes, Stevie and Ruth refuse to let anything get in the way of them getting together and it's such a wonderful thing to see them immediately all-in the relationship."

got a fistful of four leaf clovers by iphigenias

Two weeks before Christmas Alexis calls David.

“So I think I like someone,” she says.

Rated T for TEEN & UP AUDIENCES; 1,754 words; F/F; TAGGED for Post-Canon, Getting Together, Femslash February, home is a place AND a person!

"Alexis's slow burn of building feelings for Twyla melts my heart. That being said, the realistic depiction of the difficulties that come with change provides a certain depth to this story it needs."

#schitt's creek #schitts creek #david rose #patrick brewer #stevie budd #twyla sands #alexis rose #david x patrick #david & patrick #stevie x alexis #stevie & alexis #twyla x alexis #twyla & alexis #twylexis #fic recommendations #fanficiton #*lolrecs #schitt's creek fic #february roundup

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faejilly · 4 years

Text

Let’s Go Steal Some... Magic?

This is entirely the fault of a prompt from the Hunter's Moon Discord: “A Leverage Shadowhunter crossover where Alec gets desperate enough to hire a band of good thieves who’re known for being able to steal back ANYTHING to steal back Magnus’ magic.”

I take no responsibility whatsoever for any of this, but man, I had a great time writing it, so I hope you enjoyed reading it, too 😅 (With an extra thanks to @greentealycheejelly for double-checking it at least sort of made sense.)

Alec knows more about the mundane world than most people realize. He may, in fact, have helped encourage the impression that he's ignorant; it's not like he's been impressed by most of what he knows, so it's easier to just... not deal with it when he doesn't have to.

But there's nothing anyone in the Shadow World can do about this, so maybe... maybe it's time to try something else.

Only he's not sure where to start. He's going to have to ask for help.

Not his favorite thing, but. This is for Magnus. He'd do worse for Magnus.

Lindsay's probably his best bet, she's the one who tracks the bots and AIs that the Clave has keeping as much of an eye on the internet as anyone can manage, hoping to catch those mundanes who might cross the line from figuring out that what they're seeing is because of the Sight, into trying to do something like summoning demons or playing with dark magic.

Her reports on some of the conclusions their machine learning algorithms come up with are sometimes the highlight of his week. He liked the one that tried to figure out which folk songs were based on real adventures with the Seelie and Unseelie Courts versus the ones written by people who'd drank too much or gotten stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for a longer than usual winter.

So he asks her to come see him. She looks, unsurprisingly, deeply nervous when he closes his office door behind her, and he sighs as he sits down in one of the armchairs rather than behind his desk. "I need your help, please."

She doesn't look any comforted by that comment, but she sits across from him, and refrains from either glaring or babbling, so that's something.

"I need." He stops. He's not sure what he needs. "I need to think outside the box, and as the current box is Edom and the entire Shadow World is pretty convinced that that's an impossible box to open—" Alec stops, realizing his metaphors got slightly more tangled than he'd intended. "I think I need someone who is in the know but still mostly mundane, so they're not stuck on the same preconceptions the rest of us are?"

Linday blinks at him. She clearly didn't follow that.

He frowns, but she doesn't get more tense, so at least she figured out he's frowning at himself rather than her.

Clary might have given him multiple migraines and almost as many heart attacks, but she'd barrelled through things he'd thought inviolable just because she didn't know any better, and he could use some of that, right about now.

"Magnus traded his magic to a Greater Demon in order to banish Lilith's demon, and..." He trails off again. And I have to do something about it, but the only thing I can think of is trying to negotiate with said Greater Demon myself and that's a clusterfuck of epic proportions just waiting to happen.

He'll do it, if he has to, he knows this, but that should probably be a last resort, not the first attempt.

"You want to steal it back?" Lindsay's voice cracks half way through the words, and he doesn't blame her, that sounds more insane than anything even Clary would attempt, but...

He hadn't actually framed it that way himself, and he should have. She's probably right, and that is exactly the sort of thinking he needs.

"Do you think that's possible?" He tilts his head, spreads his hands in something that's almost a shrug. "I know there are Sighted thieves, and there's a thriving grey area of mundane and Downworlder interactions with magic that don't usually end up with dead bodies or demons so we don't do anything about them."

Lindsay frowns back at him, but she looks like she's thinking, so he waits.

"Well." She starts, stops again. "There is this hacker..."

Alec blinks. "I don't think the Prince of Edom keeps his stolen magic in a server."

Lindsay snorts, and rolls her eyes at him. "Ha, ha. Sir."

Alec shrugs, and waits.

"There's a warlock, Edda White. She fosters mundane children, usually ones that lost their parents to the Shadow World, or who have the Sight."

"And she's a hacker?" That's an odd combination of jobs, but he supposes it's something one could do from home while keeping an eye on a bunch of presumably traumatized children.

He wonders if there's anything they could do to help her out. Unofficially. Or officially? The Clave really should stop pretending the Shadow World's completely separate from the mundane world, no one believes that.

"No." Lindsay shakes her head. Pauses. "Well, yes, but she's not the hacker I was thinking of, I meant one of her kids."

"If said kid's already in the Shadow World, that's defeating my outside of the box request." He's not really trying to argue with her, he's just not sure where she's going.

"Sir." Lindsay levels a stare at him. It's not as good as the ones his mother or sister can pull off, but it's not half bad.

"Sorry."

Lindsay nods, and adjusts her glasses. "He's Sighted, and he's active on some of the forums the Clave tracks, helps people find resources or contacts, which is how I know about him, but he works in the mundane world. With a team of thieves who have pulled off some really impossible jobs."

"Edom impossible?"

"No, but you said you needed some creative thieves, and they're arguably the best in this world." That is something the Clave would know, just because the few truly occult artifacts the mundane world knows about tend to be expensive, so they attract the attention of the worst sorts of people and the best sorts of thieves... who then attract the attention of the Clave, to make sure no one actually tries to use the things they've stolen. "It's a place to start."

Alec nods. It is, and that's all he asked for; he hopes it's enough. "What's his name?"

Lindsay shrugs. "No idea, but I do know how to get a message to his team. They've an open call out for people who need help and don't have anywhere else to turn."

Alec feels his lips twitch with reluctant amusement. "That certainly fits this situation, doesn't it."

Lindsay concedes with a small nod. "I'll reach out, and let you know what they say."

"Thank you."

She nods again, slightly less smoothly, as if she's not sure what to do with gratitude, though he's not sure if it's because it's him personally or the Head of her Institute in general, and slips away to get to work.

Alec closes his eyes, and lets out a sigh, and tries to hold onto the flicker of hope in his chest.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe this is what he needs; maybe this is what Magnus needs.

Please.

***

Hardison blinks at the email he just opened.

He double checks the sender's address, and IP, and everything else he can think of to confirm it's not somehow a joke or a scam or something, but as far as he can tell by every test he can think up, it's genuine.

Leverage just got a fucking email from a Nephilim. On behalf of the goddamned Head of the New York Institute.

He pokes his computer screen, as if that'll make it disappear or something.

It doesn't.

Which is probably good, he's Sighted, not a warlock, if he started making the world change outside of a computer, he'd be in deep shit.

The email's surprisingly straightforward, in contrast to their usual potential clients, the Shadow World in general, and everything he's ever heard about Shadowhunters in particular. Shadow Hunters? Shadowhunters? He's not sure he's ever had to write that word out, he wonders which is considered proper grammar.

Holy shit, he's distracting himself with grammar.

He calls his Nana.

"I got an email about Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane."

"Fuck."

Hardison pulls his phone away from his head and stares at it for a moment before he can handle that. "Did you just swear at me?"

"Not at you, baby." He can practically hear her roll her eyes at him. "I was old enough to swear before your grandma was a gleam in her daddy's eyes, and you know it."

Yes, but you don't, Hardison almost says out loud, not around your babies, you don't, but he swallows it down. "Some Nephilim is asking for help from us, from my team. Do you think it's legit?"

She hums, some melody he's never been able to track down or place, never heard from anywhere or anyone else, and he's glad that that's normal at least. Nana's thinking noise is exactly what he hears in his head whenever he's trying to crack a particularly tough system.

"I do. New York's gone through some shit, and I've heard some rumours about Magnus..." She trails off. "Lightwood's reputation is pretty solid, I think he'd stretch those Nephilim Laws as far as he could, if he thought it was worth it."

"Should I take the meeting then?"

Nana pauses, but she doesn't hum this time. She's not thinking, she wants to make sure he is. "You'd have to tell your team what sort of meeting it really is."

Hardison's whole body tenses up along with his face as he scrunches his eyes as closed as he can get them. He wonders if Parker and Eliot really are part-fae, like he's always thought. They've both got more than a touch of the other when he looks at them out of the corner of his eyes, and it would certainly explain how hard they are to injure, how easily they lean into each other's space, as if they've never before found someone that makes some weird sixth sense relax.

Then again, he loves them enough it might just be his own aura sparking in the way.

He wonders, if they are just a little magic, if either of them know, and just don't think they can tell him.

He wonders if they'll be mad to realize he's kept a secret from them all these years, or if they'll be hurt.

"Yeah," he sighs, and opens his eyes back up. "Don't suppose I could get a family dinner to help uh... illustrate my point?"

Nana laughs, but it's sharper sounding than usual. "If New York's as messed up as I've heard you don't have much time. Tonight good?"

Damn.

This is clearly more serious than he'd thought, and he wonders what he's missed, busy focusing on his mundane life rather than the Shadow World.

"I guess it has to be. Thanks."

Nana doesn't bother to say anything else before she hangs up on him.

He turns around, and no he does not scream, that was just a gasp, and Parker and Eliot are in the doorway, both of them staring at him.

Check mark in the supernatural column.

He smiles at them.

They don't smile back.

Hey guys, want to meet my Nana, the centuries old warlock who taught me how to see demons so they wouldn't eat me?

Yeah. That's gonna go over well.

"Don't suppose either of you believe in magic?"

Eliot does that thing where he's not frowning but is really obvious about how he's refraining from frowning so it actually feels worse than if he'd just scowled at you. "You mean science we can't explain yet, or actual magic?"

Hardison tilts his head and hands with an eh maneuver. "Vampires and werewolves and fairies, oh my?"

Parker shrugs. "Archie always said he thought I was a changeling, does that count?"

Hardison shakes his head, and sees Eliot frown for real, and knows they both wish they'd been harder on Archie when they had him in their sights. "Yes, but that's a terrible thing for him to have said."

"Why?" Parker comes into the room proper to perch on the edge of the table extending out from his desk. "If it's the truth?"

"Because he didn't think it was true," Eliot answers, his voice low and rough. "He was using it to pretend it was okay for him not to take care of you."

Parker rolls her eyes; they've had this argument before. "But if he'd tried, I wouldn't have realized how much better at it you are."

Eliot jerks, like his whole body just tried to shut-down. Hardison can't even appreciate how remarkable that is, because he's too busy feeling his brain stutter right in sync.

"What?" Parker did that are you being stupid or did I make less sense than usual? face of hers, eyes a little squinty and shoulders just starting to hunch.

"Thank you, baby girl." Hardison manages, before she thinks it's the second. "I'm still gonna be mad at him for not trying though."

She frowns, as if she thinks that's dumb, but shrugs, clearly having decided that that's just the way it is. "So does that mean you think he was right, even though he didn't know it?"

"Uh." Hardison does a whole body shrug, because he's not sure why he ever thinks his conversations with these two are gonna go the way he intends. "I have no idea, but it wouldn't surprise me? You're uh. Better at things than most humans. You both are."

"Huh." Eliot says, but not like he disagrees. "But neither of us have a problem with steel or cold iron or whatever it is."

Hardison stares at him.

"What." Eliot stares back, and Hardison can't tell if he's fucking with him on purpose or not. Damn Eliot and his poker face.

"Did you say that because you know things, or because you read fairy tales when you can't sleep?"

Eliot's face looks like he wants to say damnit Hardison but doesn't want to give Hardison the satisfaction.

"Second one, got it."

"Kindaalwaysthoughtitwasaliensanyways." Eliot mutters.*

Hardison is pleased to note that Parker joins him in giving Eliot the look.

Eliot crosses his arms in front of his chest, and looks back, and Hardison sighs. He's right, they don't have time for that right now. "We are revisiting this," Hardison says, pointing at Eliot. "But first we're going to Nana's for dinner."

Parker actually literally squeaks, and he can't tell if she's excited or nervous. "Is she a fairy too?"

"No, and they prefer Seelie or Unseelie, depending on which Court they were born into, but you know, that's a whole separate thing we also don't have time for right now. Nana is a warlock which means she can do magic and she's immortal which I know sounds like more fairy things because they are practically immortal and also do magic, but I swear it's not."

It's his turn to be getting the look from both of them, and he stops. Starts again. "So. Uh. Demons? Totally a thing?"

Eliot sighs, and finally stops lurking as his shoulders relax into something more like at-home-Eliot rather than working-Eliot. "You made a multi-media presentation, didn't you?"

Hardison opens his mouth, and shuts it again. He did, like three different times, and he keeps deleting it and starting over, but he supposes that might be one way to go in order without thinking about Nana swearing and the email and trying to jump to angels are real and angel-blooded people kill demons and the Head of the New York Institute wants our help! before that means anything to anyone.

"Ooh." Parker sits up straighter. "Should I go get some popcorn?"

"Why not." Hardison can't help the smile, doesn't even try. "We'll have a proper briefing in five."

***

Magnus is not entirely sure why Alec invited him to his office, it's not like I can help with missions anymore, and seeing Alec sitting on the edge of his desk wringing his hands when he walks in the door doesn't calm his nerves any.

"Magnus!" Alec looks up, and his smile's not any more comforting than the wringing hands were.

"You're here."

"You asked me to be here." Magnus offers, and makes himself walk further into the office. He's not sure what else to say, and just lifts an eyebrow in Alec's general direction.

Alec shrugs, and bites his lip as he shifts his weight, and then suddenly his tension melts away and he's standing at parade rest and oh, whatever this is, it's clearly important. "I did."

Magnus holds up one finger, turns around to close and lock the door behind him, and faces Alec again.

Alec offers him a crooked almost smile, much more sincere than the last one, and the tension between Magnus' shoulder-blades eases a little, though it definitely doesn't go away. "I have a potentially terrible idea, but it's for you, so it's your choice to make, not mine."

Oh.

Magnus considers that, nods to himself, and goes to sit on the couch. He lifts his head, and makes himself meet Alec's eyes. "All right."

"I want to hire some... consultants, to see if there's a way to get your magic back without having to try and make another deal with Asmodeus."

Magnus doesn't move. He doesn't even blink. If he had his magic he'd probably blow up the chair next to him. "No."

Alec's shoulders slump. "Magnus."

"No." Magnus stands up, his hands clenched and his jaw too tight and he wants to scream, but he doesn't. "Asmodeus is too dangerous."

"And he's going to be less dangerous later if with your magic he can overthrow Lilith while she's still weak from the Mark of Cain?" Alec's voice is quiet, but even so Magnus can barely hold in the wince. "Do you really think he'll be more inclined to stay quietly in his own Realm without interfering with the rest of us if she's no longer there to keep him in check?"

Magnus swallows, refuses to think about the things he did at his father's side the last time Asmodeus freely wandered around Earth. "You said this was for me."

"It is!" Alec's voice and hands lift, and then he stops, his arms drop. He's holding himself so tightly it looks like he's a breath away from shattering. "I would sacrifice anything to help you Magnus, just like you did to stop Lilith, to save Jace, but that doesn't mean helping you isn't also doing my job."

Magnus can't move, can barely breathe.

He exhales, long and slow, and closes his eyes.

He can't argue that, because if he did, it would make everything he'd done to save Jace, to stop Lilith, all of it, for nothing. They can't let either Lilith or Asmodeus take over Edom without the other, can't afford the risk of that much power being concentrated in one person. Demon.

Monster.

Magnus opens his eyes again, and somehow Alec can tell, Alec can always tell, and he's right there, reaching out to cup Magnus' jaw in his warm hands before kissing him, soft and sweet. "Thank you."

Magnus huffs out a breath, and leans in to rest against the warmth of Alec's chest. "Thank you. So who are these... consultants then?"

"Um." Magnus tilts his head enough to look at Alec, who's looking at the ceiling as if too embarrassed to meet Magnus' gaze. He rolls his lips in tight, then pops his mouth open and sighs. "Thieves?"

"What." Magnus steps back, so he can glare properly. And also enjoy the way Alec's squirming, because it's not often Alexander gets tongue-tied around him anymore, and if he's going to go through with this insanity, he might as well try and get some enjoyment out of it. "You. Want to steal my magic back?"

"I mean, that seems slightly more likely than negotiating it out of a Greater Demon?" Alec shrugs, and rubs the back of his neck, and his mouth twists before his whole body sags with a sigh. "I don't know, but I certainly don't know how to get it back without risking Asmodeus pulling one over on us, do you?"

"But you think your thieves might?" Magnus can't help it, his voice cracks.

"Not my thieves." Alec shrugs again. "Lindsay found them, and Edda White said she could portal them to us whenever we come to an agreement on a meeting time and place."

"Edda?" He stops again. Edda, who fosters mundane children and likes to play with computers and has the weirdest running bet with Catarina about the stupid excuses they've used to convince mundanes that the magic they just saw wasn't really magic... "Mundane thieves?"

"Well, anyone in the Shadow World would start already convinced that it was impossible, wouldn't they?"

Magnus can't argue with that, either, and this is the weirdest conversation he's possibly ever had, and that's saying something, considering the number of times he's been high or drunk and determined to not let it stop him from doing... well. Anything. "Huh," is all he manages. "That. Almost makes sense."

Alec grins. "I know, weird, huh."

Magnus' chest aches, because oh, he hasn't seen that sort of look on Alec's face since they found out about Jace, before Magnus went to Edom, before he lost...

Before they lost so much.

Magnus laughs, and Alec's grin widens, a glint in his eyes as if he's as delighted and surprised as Magnus is to realize they're both actually looking forward to this. "Let's go meet some thieves."

#shadowhunters #leverage #jilly writes #hmdiscord #malec #ot3: 'til my dying day #my sh fic #* Eliot was on a stargate team #that's practically canon!

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