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#Hana writes stuff
rising-volteccers · 7 months
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Honestly after talking with some friends, this is the impression I get from them so have this silly meme. Oh and the what-if scene for HZ023, if you care.
All jokes aside, I genuinely had fun writing this! This is how I personally would love to see happen. I hope it'll be an enjoyable read haha!
Series: Pokemon Horizons
Characters: Friede, Amethio
Mild warning for description of character injury. And HZ022-HZ023 spoilers.
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The loud screech that emanated deep within the mines stole his attention and halted the battle between them. Friede did say Amethio wouldn’t catch him looking away but his eyes automatically flickered to the source. What he saw emerging from the tunnel made his blood run cold.
Liko and Roy. Cap, badly wounded in Liko’s arms. Something big and angry chasing after them. 
“Charizard, Flamethrower!” Friede ordered almost immediately.
His trusted partner swiftly fired off a stream of fire from its mouth, hitting the Pokemon that looked like Moltres dead center. 
“Friede!” He heard Liko yell as the mine cart rapidly brought the kids and Cap away–hopefully towards safety. 
“Keep going! Take care of Cap!” 
Liko’s desperate scream of his name made his heart ache with guilt but Friede couldn’t afford to spare them any more attention, not when the flaming Pokemon turned its fury filled sights upon him. 
To his brief surprise, he zeroed in on the Ancient Pokeball grasped between its talons. So, this was one of Lucius’s Pokemon too? Like Rayquaza and Arboliva?
The Moltres lookalike once again screeched in fury, and Friede swore he saw fire-like aura emitting from it. All of them had to dodge the bevy of Air Slash crescents fired off from its wings, where some veered towards the tunnel where Liko and Roy escaped earlier. It swiftly caused that mineshaft to collapse. 
Ah, so more like Rayquaza than the gentle Arboliva then. Got it.
“Guess I made it mad,” he uttered, smirking nervously. While Friede enjoyed battling against strong opponents, even he knew better than to contend with multiple enemies at once. At least between the two in front of him, one could be reasoned with. Hopefully.
“Hey! Temporary truce?” Friede spoke to the still frozen Amethio. That snapped the teen out of whatever trance he’d been in.
“What? Why–”
“Look out! Flamethrower!” Friede ordered, to which his Charizard readily fired off another stream of flames towards the wave of dark purple energy targeting Amethio and Ceruledge. Chillingly, the Flamethrower passed through it so nothing stopped the attack from hitting Trainer and Pokemon head on. 
“Amethio! Charizard, go up close and use Dragon Claw!”
With a mighty flap of his wings, Charizard surged upwards with gleaming orange claws, rearing them back before striking at the furious Pokemon.
In the meantime, Friede rushed towards Amethio and Ceruledge. Both of them were flat on the ground, looking like they were struggling to get up. He didn’t spot any immediate visible wounds but their actions indicated that something was wrong still. 
“What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” 
“Ngh… it’s like all my energy’s been sapped,” Amethio replied through gritted teeth. He had pushed himself onto his elbows, looking past Friede to stare at the Moltres currently engaged in an aerial battle with Charizard. 
An attack that sapped away at one’s stamina? If Friede looked closely, both Amethio and Ceruledge breathed out what appeared to be black wisps. Through his extensive knowledge of Pokemon and their moves, he was genuinely at a lost. He’d never seen an attack–outside of Ghost-type moves–that didn’t directly harm the user but drained their energy before. 
Charizard’s roar drew Friede’s attention to his flier. He saw Charizard swooped out of the way from that odd attack again but within the enclosed area, his room to fly around was pretty limited. The moment that Moltres get a good solid hit in, it was over. 
Friede swiftly checked his surroundings. Aside from the mineshaft that the kids emerged from and the one that collapsed behind him, there was one more that he vaguely recall Amethio coming out from. While he wasn’t keen on entering deeper into the mines, their priority right now was to get away. 
A small part of him bemoaned the loss of fighting against such a strong opponent but he couldn’t be selfish here. Not when he needed to get Amethio towards safety. He might be someone who stood against him but he too was painfully mortal, just like Friede was. It didn’t matter that they were enemies once that Moltres got its fury filled talons on their squishy bodies. 
“Right, we’re gonna head there. Return your Ceruledge and see if you can hold on,” Friede instructed, already in the process of looping one of Amethio’s arms across his shoulders.
“What are you–let go of me!” Right, why would this guy make things easy for him?
“Now’s not the time! Unless you want to take your chances with that thing, we’re getting out of here!” Friede hissed back, losing all traces of his playfully serious mood. From the corner of his eye, he saw how Charizard collided with the stone wall from one of its Air Slashes. His partner wouldn’t last that much longer.
Thankfully, Amethio finally took the hint. After returning Ceruledge, he quieted down even if Friede sensed the disgruntled air coming from him once he pulled the skinny teen to his feet, one of his arms looped around the other’s waist. Amethio did not walk unsteadily but it still took effort for Friede to support him without them swerving from the straight path towards the open mineshaft. 
Just as they reached it, a loud screech halted them. Friede risked a look behind, feeling his heart drop to his stomach upon seeing his downed Charizard. Now the Moltres had its furious sights on them again.
It curled its wings in, gaining an ominous sheen to it before the Moltres released another wave of Air Slashes towards them. Friede didn’t think much when he shoved Amethio inside the mineshaft while he rolled to the side. His ankle screamed at him when he scrambled to his feet, nearly buckling underneath his weight. The slashes barely missed him, though the ones that did connect started to cause the entrance to crumble. 
If he was to get stuck in here and get ripped to shreds, Friede wanted to at least return his Charizard to spare it that gruesome fate. 
Just as he raised his Pokeball to return Charizard, a purplish figure dashed out of the slowly collapsing entrance. Friede heard a call for “Phantom Force!” over the Moltres’s screech and the sound of his partner now safe in its Pokeball. 
Friede spotted Ceruledge emerging from its portal to slash at Moltres from above, effectively drawing its attention that he could stumble his way to the mineshaft, pushing through the fire that surged from his ankle. He just about avoid a fallen support beam, then fell past Amethio who quickly returned his Ceruledge. 
Another loud screech, then the entrance really started collapsing in earnest. Friede instinctively curled into a ball, arms going up to protect his head as earth and stone fell around him. After what felt like forever, it finally stopped.
It was quiet, the only sounds were his labored breaths, and the occasional creak of the settling wreckage. Friede tried to breathe slowly, to calm the rising panic within his chest but all he got was a mouthful of dust. He coughed and wished he had something to wash out the film lining his teeth.
Once his lungs settled down, Friede remembered that he wasn’t alone.
“You alive?”
“Unfortunately,” Amethio grumbled his response, coming somewhere from his left with a pain laced voice. Friede pushed himself up onto his elbows and tried to squint at the other through his still adjusting vision. He couldn’t see any visible wounds aside from the gash that sluggishly bled from Amethio’s forehead. At the very least it looked like he could move normally again.
Pushing through the sharp spike that came from his left leg, Friede army crawled a few feet away from the pile of rubble that temporarily separated them from that dangerous Pokemon still screeching in anger. Once he neared a tarp covered box, he used it as leverage to pull himself up into a sitting position, gasping from both exertion and pain.
With his legs spread out in front of him, Friede knew his left ankle was at least twisted, at worst outright broken. He supposed no good deed goes unpunished. 
“Why did you do that?” As if sensing his thoughts, Amethio hissed out. In the dim lighting, Friede just about made out his angry, somewhat confused scowl. “We would’ve made it. You foolishly got yourself hurt because you tried to play the hero.”
“A thank you would’ve been nice,” Friede replied, sporting a wry grin. He released a slow breath afterwards. “But to answer your question, don’t know. Body just reacted.”
He truly didn’t have an answer for it. Friede saw danger and his first reaction was to keep Amethio out of harm’s way. He’d likely do that for anyone, really. That was just his nature; to fiercely guard and protect those around him, which apparently included Amethio at that moment.
For a bit, no words passed between them. His silence was based on breathing through the pain while Amethio’s appeared cold, maybe contemplative even. The screeching had stopped for the time being so that Moltres probably gave up. Hopefully. Friede wondered if its rage would prompt it to cause the entire mine to collapse.
“...where are you hurt?” Amethio’s question caught him by surprise. Friede fought to mask it, instead raising an eyebrow at the cool gaze settling upon him.
“Left ankle. Probably twisted it,” he replied. Friede instinctively tensed up at Amethio’s approach, hand twitching to the Pokeball that held his injured Charizard. To his continued surprise, the teen crouched in front of his stretched out legs. 
“Hey, watch it!” Friede yelped at the initial touch on his boot, the slight jostle causing a flare up of pain. Amethio briefly paused, then continued to ease his boot out in a gentler manner. He didn’t think the other had it in him to be mindful honestly. 
Friede gritted his teeth through the careful probing. Even he could tell it felt swollen and tender, nevermind the pain that sparked up from the affected area. 
“This needs a splint,” Amethio spoke up after several minutes of silence. He stood up from his crouched position, making a brief sweep of his surroundings. “Those broken beams over there should suffice for now. The only thing left is some kind of cloth to wrap them around your leg and keep them in place.”
Friede considered Amethio’s words. He didn’t expect this level of cooperation but he supposed desperate times called for desperate measures. He shouldn’t look a gift Rapidash in the mouth so he dipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out a small pocket knife.
“Here. Should be able to use this to cut strips from the tarp covering this box. You’d have an easier time doing it than me right now,” he explained, handing the item to Amethio.
Amethio didn’t reach out to grab it, not at first. Friede found himself at the other end of a slightly incredulous gaze.
“What? My arm’s getting sore.”
“You’d hand me a blade that I can point at you?”
Well, considering their usual dynamics, Friede supposed he understood his confusion. He wasn’t too keen about it himself but he banked on what he knew of Amethio’s character from the various times they clashed. 
“I mean, I don’t think you’re the sort who’d stab a guy when he’s down. Too easy of a win for you, no?”
For a moment, Friede wondered if he messed up at the sudden shift in Amethio’s expression. He looked downright annoyed now, his right eye twitching ever so slightly. Did he incite the teen to actually stab him?
Before Friede could store away the knife, Amethio swiped it from his grasp. He sidestepped him to yank at the tarp, pulling it off the box. 
“Hold onto this corner and keep it taut,” Amethio all but ordered. Deciding to not push his luck, Friede did as he was told. Soon, they had various haphazard strips that should fit their purposes. 
Amethio dropped the knife by Friede’s side instead of nicely handing it back to him. A tad rude but hey, definitely better than fending himself off from angry stabs. Amethio soon returned to his side with a couple of broken support beams, roughly in the size they needed to make a temporary splint. 
Friede remained still while Amethio set about in placing the planks on both sides of his left leg. He sort of tuned out the entire process, mostly thinking about where Amethio got this knowledge from. Did he get injured often? As strong as Amethio was in battles, Friede was aware that he didn’t look that much older than Liko and Roy. 
Why was someone as young as him a part of the Explorers? He’d entertain that thought from time to time, admittedly. Whose orders did he follow that he’d chase them from Kanto? Friede was certain that he faced off a different Explorer back in Paldea. It just wasn’t Amethio’s style to resort to trickery and subterfuge. He could have easily went after Liko and Roy when they were separated from him instead of opting to battle.
“...there. How does that feel?” Amethio’s question drew him back to the present. Friede blinked, eyes glancing down at the makeshift splint. 
“Doesn’t feel too tight. Thanks,” he replied after carefully moving his leg. That should help keep his leg stabilized until he gets his ankle properly treated. 
Friede leaned back against the box, took a few deep breaths before looking up at Amethio's quiet gaze. He extended a hand towards the other. "Help me up? Don't know about you but I'd like to find a way out of here."
Amethio eyed his hand like it was something foul but he did grasp it. After a bit of awkward maneuvering, Friede got to his feet, putting minimal pressure on his bad ankle by leaning his weight against Amethio. Instead of shoving him off, the teen simply mimicked his earlier position by wrapping an arm around his waist while one of Friede's arms was draped across Amethio's shoulders.
"Guess our only choice is to go down there and hope it'll lead to an exit," Friede stated, vaguely gesturing to the path that wasn't blocked off by debris and rubble. 
"It'll lead to an open chamber with multiple paths. One of them is an exit," Amethio replied, already making the first move to get him walking.
"Huh." Friede would've asked where his confidence came from but then he recalled Amethio coming out from this tunnel earlier. He couldn't help but wonder for just how long the Explorers kept an eye on them. The very moment they landed in Galar? Friede wanted to keep a low profile by traveling on foot but that seemed to be a bust since Amethio found him all the way here. 
Initially, it took them a few tries to find a way where the height difference and Friede's awkward gait didn't impede their pace. Once they found a rhythm, thus began a slow yet steady walk down the mostly dim tunnel. His eyes had since adjusted, and after a few minutes, he spotted a pinprick of light in the distance.
"Oh good, looks like we're close. Usually people say 'don't go into the light!' but in our case, it's a blessing, yeah?" Friede chattered on, having done so for the past minute since he didn't like how the silence settled on his skin. 
"A head injury would be preferable if it gets you to shut up." Amethio didn't give him a response before but it seemed that he was really getting on his nerves now.
"Oof, a lil' harsh." There might be a hint of a pout to his voice but Friede got the message. He didn't know whether Amethio was above just dropping him like a sack of potatoes so he kept his mouth shut until their claustrophobic surroundings opened up to a larger chamber.
It looked similar to the one they were fighting in before with the same tunnels that led to who knows where. Amethio led them down to the leftmost one, presumably the mineshaft he came in from before. 
Friede couldn't tell how much time had passed. His entire body slowly became one giant ache as he hobbled along, hating the stiffness from the makeshift splint. The edges rubbed against his leg in a way that was noticeable even through the fabric of his trousers. He kept reminding himself that this was necessary even if he wanted nothing more than to get it off. 
Had he been a lesser person, seeing the light at the end of this tunnel would've reduced him to tears. At last, fresh air once they properly exited the mines. Friede wasn't the claustrophobic sort usually but seeing greenery and open space around him, not to mention breathing in dust free air nearly made him crash in relief.
Amethio led him to a nearby tree. Once Friede had a hand on the trunk, the teen swiftly released him like he couldn't stand being pressed close for even a second longer. He watched Amethio dust himself off, futile as it was. Both of them looked like they just crawled out of the ground.
"Don't forget to get that treated," Friede found himself speaking up, tipping his head at the now dried blood that caked Amethio's upper brow. 
He received a blank stare for that. "Duly noted. Take your own unwanted advice."
Well, he supposed that since they were free, all false niceties were off the table. Not that Amethio put much effort in keeping his disdain hidden. They had to work together under unexpected circumstances. Now that the threat no longer loomed over their heads, they returned to their previous dynamic of being enemies.
"I'd love to continue our previous battle but–take a rain check for it, yeah? Promise I'll give it everything I got next time."
There will be a next time. So long as Amethio chased after the pendant, they will inevitably clash. Such was the nature for them who stood on opposite ends. 
(Sometimes Friede did wonder how it'd be like if Amethio had been an ally instead. Perhaps they'd get along better, or maybe even be friends).
Amethio didn't respond. Instead, he turned around and released his Corviknight. 
"Huh, forgot you had that mon," Friede mused. Seeing their fiery opponent (both figuratively and literally), he supposed Amethio didn't want to pit his Steel-type against it earlier.
Friede watched as the teen swiftly got onto his Corviknight. Before his flier took off, Amethio briefly glanced back at him.
"Prepare yourself," was all he said prior to the Corviknight becoming airborne. Friede stared at the pair until they flew out of sight. 
With a deep sigh, he allowed his shoulders to slump. Exhaustion and pain weighed him down in different measures. He made a quick swipe at his face, took in a measuring breath before releasing his Charizard.
His partner was quick to growl its worry. The time spent in its Pokeball allowed the Fire-type a bit of recovery room but they wouldn't be winning any battles until Charizard got properly treated. 
"Hey, sorry for worrying you. I'm fine–well, I will be," Friede quickly amended at Charizard's pointed look to his makeshift splint. He gave his starter a few good scratches underneath his chin.
"Do you think you can give me a lift back to Motostoke? I think the kids would bring Cap there. Just take it nice and easy."
Charizard easily accepted his request. It turned around and lowered itself to the ground, much more than usual to compensate for Friede's current state. He winced from all the jostling but soon, he sat as comfortably as he could on Charizard's back.
Slowly, as if testing his wings, Charizard gave a few flaps. It became stronger, and then they were airborne. 
As Friede settled down during their slow flight back to Motostoke, his mind went back to the Moltres back in the mines. Seeing that it was likely connected to the Lucius, they very well couldn't leave it alone. Liko and Roy wouldn't want to leave a mystery like this unsolved, nor did he. 
Well Friede didn't plan on facing it unprepared. He might come back on crutches but he was determined to have the upper hand next time. He fished out his Rotom Phone, dialing a number until it connected. 
"Friede? What is it?"
"Hey Dot. So, long story short, I need your help in looking into something for me…"
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scarvi-tealdisc · 3 months
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Heya! So this is my first time writing a fic for these characters! Pokemon Scarvi has become one of my favorite games to date, with the latest DLC igniting a love for the BB E4 cast. Especially Drayton, seeing that he reminds me of another white haired character (Friede from Pokemon Horizons) that I love haha
This fic is inspired from this ask response by @cheemken! It's a self indulgent piece mixed in with doses of self projection, and I had fun writing it! I'm hoping to get a better handle of their characters as I write more stuff about these characters in the future!
Series: Pokemon Scarlet and Violet | Indigo Disc DLC
Characters: Drayton, Crispin
Warnings: Plot involving food, eating food, intentions of feeding someone food
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Crispin knew it’d be tough going into this but someone had to do it.
“C’mon Drayton, we gotta move all of this to the storeroom or else Lacey’s gonna flip!” Crispin stated in exasperation. He had his hands on his hips, trusty frying pan set aside for once. Narrowed eyes settled on his friend, who barely moved beyond lifting their head. 
“But there’s just so much of it. Can’t we just pile it in the corner and call it a day?” Drayton whined, sporting a cheeky grin that got Crispin’s blood boiling. 
Argh, why can’t he understand that they should have done this yesterday? Crispin wasn’t keen in seeing Lacey’s angry, disappointed frown even if it wasn’t directed at him! Drayton should know that she’d be on their case again for slacking off!
“Nope! These boxes needed to be moved yesterday but you wanted to nap first! No napping now! Move first, nap later!” Crispin’s insistence eventually led him to straight up grab Drayton’s wrist, tugging him to his feet.
Drayton wasn’t expecting this so they had no choice but to get up lest they faceplanted on the floor instead. While his friend rubbed the back of their neck, grumbling about feisty peppers or something, Crispin stared quizzically at his hand.
Why was he able to…?
“If you’re gonna make me get up for this, don’t zone out now.” Drayton’s voice snapped him out of the brief trance he was in. Right, they had stuff to do now. He should focus on completing this task first.
Hours later, Crispin still couldn’t forget it. He stared at his hand, fingers curling and uncurling around an imaginary wrist. He gently circled his own wrist with a thumb and forefinger, frown deepening.
Crispin didn’t realize how skinny Drayton actually was. Was it their attire that gave them the illusion of looking more filled out? He supposed the jacket hid their upper torso, while the cape wrapped around their waist made it seem… fuller or something. He wasn’t sure the right terminology to use, only that it didn’t sit right with him.
With how often Drayton snacked in the clubroom, the idea that he wasn’t eating enough never crossed Crispin’s mind. Sure, Drayton laziness rivalled that of a Slakoth but he didn’t think his friend would be too lazy to eat… unless there were other reasons? 
It made his head hurt a little when he tried to think too deeply on it. Crispin can’t just go out and ask them anyway. Knowing Drayton as well as he did, they’d probably wave of his concern, claiming that he was seeing things or something. Yet Crispin just can’t forget how thin their wrist felt. He hated the idea that one of his friends might not be eating enough.
After a brief brainstorming session that would’ve caused smoke to leak out of his ears, Crispin came up with a plan. He wasn’t as good as Drayton when it came to sneaking around and cooking up schemes but he was good at actual cooking.
Let's see what he had in his recipe book…
When Crispin poked his head into the clubroom, his eyes quickly landed on Drayton's slouched form by the desk. They looked to be munching on some snacks, which was far from nourishing in his opinion.
“Hey Drayton, are you busy right now?” Crispin piped up, entering the clubroom properly. In his hand was a small box wrapped up in a checker patterned cloth.
Drayton paused in his chewing. Slowly raising his head, he cocked an eyebrow, lips set into a faint grin.
“Nope. I'm pretty busy right now quality checking these snacks.” 
Crispin playfully rolled his eyes at the response. Drayton's teasing tone meant exactly that so he simply took a seat on the other side of the table. Placing the box in front of his friend caught their attention at least.
“So I've been doing some recipe testing. I wanted to spruce up common sandwich fillings, see if the taste can hold up even hours later. I tried them out and it's tasty but I want a second opinion,” Crispin explained while he unwrapped the lunch box. Upon taking off the top, it revealed various sandwiches with the crusts cut off, shaped in rectangles.
“What, so you want me to be your test Morpeko?” Drayton asked, arms now loosely crossed over their chest. They seemed interested at least with the sandwiches, which Crispin took as a small win.
“What, like I'd feed you bad food? Spicy food doesn't count!” Crispin quickly added before Drayton made a sassy remark. “But yeah, I could really use a second opinion and I do trust you so…”
Someone once commented that he had ‘eyes that were hard to resist’, which Crispin took as a compliment, thinking that it was his fiery spirit coming through. In actuality, he looked more like a pleading Lilliput more than anything.
Drayton locked eyes with Crispin for all of three seconds before they turned away, sighing.
“Alright, I'll give it a try. Geez, you'd think that should be classified as a weapon or something…”
Crispin ignored the rest of Drayton's mumblings, simply pleased as pie to watch his friend pick up one of the sandwiches. Looking at the color of the filling, that one had smashed eggs with a sprinkling of curry powder to give it an extra kick of flavor.
Drayton took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly before swallowing. The brief silence genuinely made Crispin sweat a bit but eventually, he got some feedback.
“This one's not bad. I'm getting hints of… some kind of spice.”
“It's curry powder! Specifically a blend that's pretty popular in Galar. Figured it would add a bit of a kick.”
“It's tasty. Adds a pop of flavor to the eggs.” Drayton took another bite of the sandwich. “I'm getting like different textures too. Smooth and a lil chunky. I like it.”
“Oh that's from adding some soft scramble with cut up pieces of boiled egg before I mixed both together in the sauce.” While Crispin beamed at the positive review of his creation, he also took note of Drayton's comment to file it away for later.
He seems to like contrasting textures.
Once Drayton finished their first sandwich, Crispin wasted no time in encouraging his friend to taste the next one. There was a bit of mild grumbling but Drayton did pick up the one that had shredded Klawf Stick next. 
This went on until Drayton finished tasting all the sandwiches in the box. Swiping off a bit of crumb from their bottom lip, Drayton flashed Crispin a lazy smile, leaning back against their chair.
“I suppose being your test Morpeko wasn't all that bad. You've been upping your seasoning game. There were all home runs, no strikeouts.”
Crispin tried to suppress a goofy smile. “Heh, thanks! I really appreciate the feedback too. Out of everything you've tried, was there a favorite?”
“Hmm… guess I liked the first one the best. The curry flavor added a lot to the filling.”
He seems to like curry flavors. Should look into making actual curry.
“Noted! Say, mind helping me out again tomorrow? I want to try out more fillings, maybe switching the bread up too.” Crispin tried to keep it cool, gazing at Drayton with his fiery eyes again.
“... sure, guess I don't mind.” Drayton’s eyes flicker to the left, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“Sweet! I'll see you tomorrow then!” Crispin gathered all his stuff before exiting the clubroom. With the door closed behind him, he pumped his fist triumphantly, hissing out a delighted yes.
Success! Drayton seemed none the wiser to his plan from the way they ate all the sandwiches he made. Crispin got some good information out of it too. It was important for him to take note of Drayton's potential likes and dislikes. Making food more tailored to their tastes will make things much easier down the road. 
Now he needed to come up with more enticing sandwich fillings for tomorrow. With a pep to his step, Crispin made his way back to his dorm room, where he will test out new flavor combinations for the rest of the day.
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tiredgreenphysicist · 2 years
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Title: My love, my home
Characters involved: Bruce, Thor
Idea: Seems like Bruce is forgetting something...
Just a cute little ficlet inspired by a few things from the Thorbruce server.
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From their bed, Thor watches with fond amusement as Bruce rushes around like a barely contained hurricane. Today’s a big day for his love. After many years, he’s attending some kind of gathering between the most brilliant of minds on Midgard. Bruce will be giving a speech on a topic that’s honestly beyond his comprehension. Even so, Thor happily listens while he practice in the past few days.
Bruce claims that he’s rusty, having been away from the scientific community for quite some time. Thor thinks that he’s doing splendidly. Then again, Bruce can talk about anything and he’ll be enraptured by his soft, rolling tones. 
As Bruce zips past, Thor spots the pair of glasses on the bedside table. Trust his beloved to forget his seeing aids in the midst of his frenzy. He reaches over to grab them before he approaches Bruce, who’s currently muttering scientific gibberish while he wrestles with his shoelaces. 
“My love, I believe you’ve forgotten something.”
Bruce pauses and looks up. “Oh, right.”
Before Thor can showcase the glasses, surprise colors his features at the hands that pulls him down by the shoulders. Bruce kisses him gently yet firmly before releasing him. In a daze, Thor feels the warmth creeping up his cheeks.
“I meant this,” he says with a growing smile, slowly handing him the spectacles. “But thank you.”
It’s Bruce’s turn to turn a lovely shade of red. “Oh, he mumbles, accepting and storing them away in its case. “Thanks. I mean, I’d probably be fine but then I’d just get a headache…”
Thor silences his ramble with a gentle kiss in turn. He feels the soft sigh against lips and wishes he could do more. Perhaps later, after Bruce’s rousing success in presenting his brilliance to the world, brimming with confidence. He will make sure to savor that moment like the finest of Asgardian wines.
“Have faith that you will be glorious, my love. Know that I will await your return after your triumph in the battle of wits,” Thor assures, punctuating his words with another kiss. 
“Well, I suppose I better come back victorious then.” There’s a curl to Bruce’s little smile that sends a thrill down Thor’s spine. “Will I get a reward for that?”
A large hand settles on Bruce’s hip, tugging him closer. It takes a tremendous amount of willpower to pull away after stealing two more kisses from that clever mouth. 
“Of course, my Asgard.”
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shalotttower · 20 days
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To Make a Home Out of Bones
Title: To Make a Home Out of Bones
Fandom: BTD2 (Boyfriend to Death 2)
Characters: Ren Hana x Reader (female)
Summary: You were free. Free for real, and you couldn't believe that, staring at the open door. And then, by some twisted scenario, decided to keep him. It's tragic, really.
Word count: 2300+
Notes: yandere!Ren Hana, captivity (past Reader and finally in present not Reader :D) Reader is sensible though and there's nothing crazy going on on her part apart from the captivity scenario, mostly tired vibes/attempts to process what happened, unhealthy coping mechanisms, past torture, past manipulation, possessiveness, past dubious consent, past non-con, Reader doesn't know about Strade.
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You don't talk. You never talk nowadays and it feels almost liberating, not having to converse. Ren doesn't look as intimidating as he used to. Maybe it's because of the collar, or maybe it's because he doesn't wear that damned jacket anymore, the one which seems to change his whole being into something unhinged and cheerfully vicious whenever he puts it on.
Is this what he felt, watching you tied to a pole?
No, hardly.
There was a very tangible sense of power in your captivity.
You, however, don't feel powerful at all.
You feel like an old tree: splinters, rotten wood, and bark waiting for the storm to come and snap the trunk in the middle.
Freedom is strangely anticlimactic.
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You don't know how long you've been here, stopped checking a wile ago because it didn't matter ─ to be dragged back from the basement on Wednesday or on Saturday. Days became a sequence of events, not dates, once you realized Ren planned to keep you indefinitely.
Have breakfast, tell him it was good. Do the laundry. Watch TV, let Ren cuddle up to you, ignore the presence of another in the same room. Smile every time he says something nice and expects to hear it back. Let your eyes glaze over during sex, try to remember what it felt like to have someone touch you without making you bleed. Wake up to a sleepy fox curled up on top of you. When Ren dreams his ears twitch.
It takes approximately five minutes for him to settle for sleep, tangled limbs and pointy nose buried in the crook of your neck, and he's surprisingly light for a grown man. With how tough Ren seems (or wants to), there's some sort of innate clinginess about him that contrasts so much with the image in your head: smiling through bloodied teeth while nailing your leg. At first you thought being nice was a way out of this, but kindness is a double-edged sword here: soon you realized how utterly you misjudged him ─ and how truly screwed you were.
Because Ren, while cooking you tasty meals for "being good" and letting you watch TV, likes kisses and hand-holding, and cute things. But Ren also likes the way you sob no less, and that's where the miscalculation happened. Being nice only guaranteed with some unsteady sense of security that he wouldn't kill you yet. That was all. He's sweet, snuggly, affectionate until he isn't, and no amount of good behavior or praise will stop him from breaking your fingers if he feels like it.
Your routine had been simple for months. Easy. Unbearable.
And now all the world which was limited to one single house for god knows how long expands again, but you don't really feel it, even after reaching the small front gate.
You could leave him there, you think. In the basement, and no one would ever know. Lose the key, never come back, just-
Not go back. And all of this will be behind you. You'll never have to see him again, never have to smile for him, never have to hear that shaky sound he makes when he cums, or witness his face turn from carefree to confused, and then to understanding, then to annoyed.
A death like this seems fitting for him. Cold concrete and silence; starvation is an awful, terrifying way to go. You noticed that Ren doesn't really like to be alone, and there's almost poetic justice in leaving him in the basement to slowly rot away.
Your fingers curl around the iron handle and with something akin to astonishment let go of it, then fall limply to your side. You're free, yet you stay rooted to the spot, because frankly speaking where does one go from here? Your rent must be long overdue, and your face is probably everywhere, plastered on missing person posters.
'Hey guys, I'm not missing anymore', you imagine saying to your co-workers, 'sorry for disappearing, I guess. Do you still need that Excel sheet done?'
Your employment contract had probably been terminated. The bank account should be fine, Ren took you right before the paycheck, and there's mom's house to crash at until everything goes back to normal, but that surely means cops getting involved, and lawyers, and media. Just the thought is exhausting.
'How did Mr Hana treat you? Were you intimate? Yes or no? Please, tell us more, miss. How do you feel? What about Mr Oleander, did you know him?'
The wind picks up, blowing leaves and ruffling your hair.
Ren will go to jail. Obviously — kidnapping and killing people equals prison time. The problem is that it doesn't bring you any kind of satisfaction. You don't want Ren here, but you also don't want him peacefully living his sentence while you pick up the pieces of your old life. There's no closure in that, but again...can there be any?
You sit down on the porch; cold wooden boards creak under your weight. Ren has a nice little suburban house.
What now? You have no fucking idea, just vague notions of an unclear future, and nothing substantial.
What now indeed.
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He fed you regularly, that's true; you stand at the basement door and watch him eat.
Ren allowed you free roaming within the house premises, an access to TV, books, hygiene products. Reading manga together felt almost domestic, yet...you keep him there. In the basement.
It's strange, seeing him like this, but he doesn't look surprised at the new turn of events, he looks almost resigned. A mirror of yourself in a sense, you think with a finger hovering over the button. Ren's ears are flattened, tail tucked between his legs, a submissive, harmless thing. You could let him out, allow him roam the house freely just the way he did. But you don't.
It sounds straight off foolish, and what's more important ─ scary. There're so many possibilities. That the remote won't work, that you'll be too slow to react, that he'll sneak into your room at night. Ren can be very quiet when he wants to. So you keep him there, and avoid him like plague unless necessary — feeding duty twice per day plus bathroom visits.
No chatter, minimal contact overall, but Ren starts talking anyways.
"You look tired," he says cautiously in between the bites.
He does it a lot, tries to gauge where you two stand every day or what's on your mind, and you suspect it's the result of past experiences, something that's hard to unlearn. Something connected with that body in the freezer. Upon finding it you initially assumed (not without a reason) that the corpse was his doing, but when Ren undressed before you for the first time, realized that it might not be entirely true.
The cuts, the burns, the marks and deep, jagged lines formed a familiar pattern. Someone had put a lot of time and effort into giving him those.
"I could make coffee. Or tea."
And that's another thing. He doesn't fight you, or attempt to lash out. Instead he makes those little offers here and there whenever you come down the stairs — dinner, help cleaning the dishes, washing clothes. He has been compliant and eager to please to the point of it being almost unnerving.
You don't reply, and that seems to bother him, judging by his expression. Understandable: silence is normally a bad omen, especially in situations such as this one.
"Are you going to-" he starts again, but you cut him off.
"Push the tray over."
Ren's ears twitch at the command and you briefly wonder if he expected something different to happen. The tray makes a metallic screech over the concrete floor, stopping right in front of your feet.
"Thank you," he says.
'Thank you for breakfast, thank you for lunch, thank you for dessert.' 'Thank you for the nail gun, thank you for holding my hand while I screamed, thank you for fucking me after.' You hate the words now, the way they used to roll off your tongue (thank you, Ren, thank you), because they never meant gratitude at all and felt bitter, like a moldy fruit.
Ren's eyes are trained on your face. There it is again: the strange uneasiness which settles in your chest whenever he stares with focus sharp enough to burn holes through flesh itself. His gaze travels lower to your arms exposed by rolled up hoodie sleeves. You had no clothes here except for cutsey underwear and pajamas which Ren insisted you wear, but those are long thrown away somewhere in the trash, so the only things available are his. There's also...other stuff you found in the locked bedroom on the second floor: cargo pants, combat boots, tank tops, all neatly folded. Far too big for you both.
"Is it mine?" Ren asks and leans forward.
"Is there a problem?" you ask back, then regret it.
Questions mean opening a door to unwanted dialogue. His cheeks turn a little pink.
"No. It looks good on you."
Your stomach churns in discomfort at the compliment and the carefully concealed delight Ren won't voice out loud, but drops indirectly from time to time. Not only this, but the familiarity, the implied "you're used to wearing my things by now" which, in essence, is true. It's either that or walking around naked. Ren must notice your reaction, because he quickly averts his eyes to the floor. Silence settles over the basement like a thick, heavy blanket of snow.
Stop feeding me with submissive bullshit, you want to say. I know what you'd do if not for the collar, I've seen it from the first row. Stop pretending to be harmless when we both know you aren't.
Ren fiddles with the hem of his shirt. The change is so drastic. He was a little scary at first when you met, then downright terrifying, and now...now he's just a whole another person.
You pick up the tray without a word and leave. Ren's ears droop once he realizes the conversation for today ended before it even started. But there will be tomorrow. And the next one after, and the next one, and the next one. He'll keep trying to talk, and you'll keep ignoring him until he finally stops.
You don't know what to do with him. You don't know what to do with yourself either.
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There's no distance wide or far enough to allow you proper sleep. You toss and turn under the covers despite exhaustion pulling at your eyelids and eventually settle for a late night movie or two. Ren's DVD collection is...well, to put it bluntly, weird for someone like him. Cheesy and romantic movies take around thirty percent of his library, while the remaining seventy is filled with horror flicks and anime. You go through the titles: Sailor Moon, Cardcaptor Sakura, Tokyo Mew Mew. Some of those you watched together, curled up on the sofa, others Ren had recommended enthusiastically whenever he caught your glances.
'It's really good! I think you'd like it.'
'This is my favorite.'
He remembered the details about each series, all the names, plot twists. A die-hard fan to the point you wondered why didn't he try cosplaying himself instead of dressing you up. He'd pass as some sort of a fox/cat character easily. Maybe he did cosplay before, who knows? It wouldn't surprise you.
The clock ticks 2 AM. Your mind goes back to the basement door and what lays behind it.
Ren knows that you sleep terribly. You know he does too ─ that's one more trait you two share except for the scars.
You click on the first episode of "Arcane Moon Whispers". The opening plays through the old speakers — happy, cheerful music; you wonder if he can hear it downstairs. The basement is soundproofed, but Ren has sharp hearing. It became clear early on, in the way his ears would twitch towards the noise of your footsteps when you still wore the collar.
The plot unfolds in front of your eyes: a magical team fighting evil with the power of friendship, love, and hope.
'They have an entire arc dedicated to time travel,' Ren explained while showing you the box sets, 'it gets a bit confusing halfway through but it's fun!'
It's been three weeks now. Three weeks since your freedom began and yet Ren lingers in your head as strongly as ever, like a ghost haunting your dreams and waking hours alike. It's frustrating to say the least: having him locked away yet seeing him everywhere — in the kitchen cabinets full of sweets he likes, in the bookshelf full of manga he read out loud sometimes until you couldn't bear it anymore and had to tune his voice out, and in the drawer you pull open every morning.
Ren is like a stain.
It makes you sick, actually. It makes your chest ache with something that feels dangerously close to guilt but can't be it. You're not guilty for what you've done, keeping him there is reasonable, understandable, and Ren...he deserves everything after what he put you through first.
You tried so hard to be nice to him.
You were nice.
But nice isn't enough when someone wants you hurt. Isn't enough to stop a knife. Nice is a useless commodity.
A few more episodes later you're still wide awake.
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somaticmilk · 1 month
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Behold.. REN MILK FIC PT 2
Here’s the first part if you wanna make it weird ->
Just a FYI - I didn’t remember where I left off before I’m too ashamed to have continuity so SHUT UP AND TAKE IT.
(also originally it was implied that Ren was like drugged with Sildenafil or smth like that at one point but ig I forgot-)
Fic under cut - Soma was not responsible for any of this - I am ashamed - ALSO DONT HAVE A MILK KINK.
Ren woke up with an intense feeling of heat and a growing pain in his crotch. As he looks around, he remembers he is still tied up and completely naked. He noticed his captor was standing on the other side of the barn. Strade watched in awe as his cute little cow was slowly giving up, he went hard just by the idea of his sanity breaking.
"Morgen meine süße Buttermilch, you ready for today?" Strade’s words were like lukewarm beer laced with honey.. Gross.. - Ren cringed at the idea of submitting to his captor like this, even if someone were to find him, how would they take him seriously in this shape? Tied up, cock cage, and covered in dirt - No shit someone would mistake him as livestock.
Strade approached Ren and placed a large metal bit in his mouth. It was cold against his tongue and restricted the airflow from his mouth. Before he knew it the door of his pen was opened and he was being dragged to a different section of the barn. Despite the burning embarrassment of crawling on all fours, the sun on his skin felt nice. His stomach reathed and his joints were still stiff from the stall. With every step he took, he could feel little rocks and pebbles lodged between his fingers and toes, his face burning red with each passing minute.
Ren had never been more humiliated in his life. From being forced to act like a cow, all the verbal teasing, and being forced into a cramped inhumanization stall, it was all too much.
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Once they made it to the milking parlor Ren knew his fate was sealed. The beastkin saw a mirror behind where Strade was standing before and below it was a large metal machine. Strade then removed the chastity cage and gave a brisk hit to his half-hard cock to make sure no dirt on it.
(clean milk guys - clean milk ^3^)
The German then placed a foreign object onto his dick. Ren looked at Strade, who nodded after seeing the realization in Ren's eyes. Now waiting in anticipation, he could probably cum without any sensation, the drugs Strade put him on were strong. At this point, Ren just wanted friction, something, anything.. Strade placed a large, girthy dildo on the machine and set it up. But before turning it on, he turned to Ren's ass.
Ren tried his best to hide his face as if it would take him away from his humiliating situation. He almost believed it until he felt hands grabbing at his backside. Not only did the fondling reignite the fire in his rear, but also the fire in his face. Strade began to place his fingers in, stretching him out with a sloppy and heavy hand. He continued doing this, adding up to 3 fingers until he was satisfied.
“You have such a nice ass, Buttermilch” Strade teased as he continued to grope at the Beastkin’s flesh. “It's so round, soft, and perky!”
“S-Shut up!” Ren yelled back, making a pathetic attempt to intimate him. This only caused Strade to lightly swat at his ass, making Ren yelp. “That’s not the sound cows make, Schatz” he scolded. “Mmmf owfff!!” Even with the gag on, Strade knew that Ren had just told him to fuck off.
Without warning the German farmer then picked up Ren and strapped him down into the machine. The device already attached to his dick finally made sense to him now, it was a pump. Lifting his tail and hooking his throbbing cock into the milking unit, Strade walked to the other side of the parlor and removed his boxers. He then sat down and smiled.
"Aufgeregt, meine Liebe?” Ren felt a spray of lube on his cock and in his ass. In an instant, the dildo began thrusting in and out. It was painful at first. Too painful. The milker began to slide up and down, twisting and turning.
The sensation was a lot at first. There was a lot of friction between his anus and the large dildo as it slid in and out, due to the lack of lube and the sheer size of the thing. Ren didn't know how deep the dildo was but it had to be at least 8 inches. The howl Ren let out was inhuman as he was instantly stretched out and stuffed. The pump jerking him off got even rougher and faster, the feeling of hot pleasure building in his stomach ready to burst.
Ren was practically screaming while his asshole was getting completely ruined. Ren shook his head vehemently, his cock twitching in the pump. Meanwhile, Strade was jacking off to his display.
He picked up a remote and pressed a button. The pump started to engulf and pull away at the tip. His cock was enveloped in a warm comfort that made him feel like a knot tied in his stomach.
His moans were stifled but loud as the speed of the intake of the pump slowly increased and the dildo slammed harder into Ren’s prostate. Although he clenched his jaw around the bit to try and hide them, soft moans came out of Ren’s mouth, exciting Strade all the more.
Ren’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he was simultaneously filled to the brim and brought to orgasm. He came into the pump and he began to pant, cum spilling out and taken through a tube.
Ren’s vision blurred, his heart beating through his ears before feeling a wet squirt of liquid inside of him. He then realized that the two were connected and his cum was inside of him and being used as lube.
This sudden realization made him fucking nauseous. His vision spotted and he could feel himself gag, although, his boner didn’t give in just yet. Not even within a minute Ren was close again and came into the milker. The seed yet again absorbed and sent into his ass.
Ren shrieked and bawled with an exhibit of extreme pain and shame on his face. Ren had hot tears running down his red cheeks, and his lip quivered slightly. Strade then walked toward the exit of the parlor door before taking a final glance at his cow.
"You look wonderful, Mein Liebling," he said as Strade grabbed the remote and turned everything onto the highest settings. There was a security camera at the ceiling so he knew that his new piece of livestock wouldn’t do anything too feral but he couldn't just keep this showcase all to himself.
The vibrations became more frequent and intense. The pump was taking his cock up and down at an extremely fast pace. It twisted around his sensitive head which began to hurt. He was sent into a state of intense pleasure and overstimulation. He couldn't handle this for longer. The machine never stopped though. The constant abuse made his ass sting like fire. He was cumming less and less each time which meant less and less lubricant.
A while later, Strade entered the parlor again. He instantly turned everything off before walking to Ren and taking the bit off. "How was it?" he asked as he began unbuckling his arms and legs off of the machine.
Ren took a deep breath and ignored the question. While taking off the pump part of the milker, Strade accidentally grazed Ren’s dick. His tip was red, swollen, and extremely irritated. Ren let out a long, exhausted whimper…
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I BE LIKE DUHH DUHHHHH - WHY YOU SOO FINEE
Lmk if you want more idk - #talkingfromtheheart
Soma milk fic pt three ??? 😰😰😰🫶🫶
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foxlin-fantasia · 9 months
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🎭 What is Hanaka's role in the Tragic Play?
i was tagged by @miqomonkly ; ty! this was fun :3
i tag: @lark-mage, @followmyv0ice, @ahlis-xiv, & YOU ( if you wanna!! )
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quiz result : the desperate narrator.
this story is a cycle, and you're spinning around it like a hamster in a ball being tormented by a cat. you know how this story ends. after all, you've told it a thousand times. but you try to change it every time. you love the people in this story more than anything. so watching them fall victim to the narrative breaks you in a way you can't begin to describe. but all you can do is tell the story ─ their story ─ with tears in your eyes. you're prone to anxiety and feelings of helplessness. you have so much love in your heart, and for once you wish it would change something. it didn't. it doesn't. it won't. but you refuse to stop telling the story. and you refuse to stop loving the people in it. in this way, no one is stronger than you. you just wish being strong hurt less.
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( ngl, the thoughts i had from this made me feel like: )
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( keep reading more for my nonsense lol )
🌸 aaa, this reads heavily as the lingering traits / feelings of her Azem and how her WoL journey has effected her. pls enjoy! ( i have just recently rly gotten comfortable working on Hanaka's Azem! i felt like i had to know a bit more about the world & Hana herself before giving it a real effort lol )
🌸 The ‘desperate narrator’ vibe is very accurate; i can see it in a particular scene I’ve been working on for writing stuffs! 
🌸 Hanaka and her Azem are linked, sharing memories between one another in my lore; they both experience various memories from the lives of one another when they sleep. It happens sporadically, and like most dreams, details become hazy once awake.
🌸 Despite experiencing the more pleasant or mundane parts Azem’s life sporadically in her dreams, Hanaka has a reoccurring nightmare that started in her youth: the night of fiery skies, where she would watch a familiar city burn down from a distance. Hanaka would fight everything to move from her stationary spot, to run, to help, to hide, but she could never change the dream… After all that happens in EW, she learns it was just a memory. ( glimpse of the final days from Azem’s perspective )
🌸 Experiencing her own tragedies on her journey has made Hanaka more emotional and she cries easily, an honest trait she has had since childhood. Now, it’s more like a nervous habit to cry. Her anxiety went off the charts during ShB and didn’t really stop until post-EW.
🌸 As the chosen of Hydaelyn, it only makes sense that her champion tie herself up in knots over the fate of the star. She has endless respect and love for her allies, and high hopes for all of the people of Etheirys, even after experiencing the trials of her journey and witnessing the mess that is humanity. Hanaka does wither at times. When beaten down and at her lowest, even she can fracture and break, yet she will always return to her role as hero with the knowing her loved ones are waiting for her and their adventures are still being written. 
🌸 Like the quiz result says: “so watching them fall victim to the narrative breaks you in a way you can't begin to describe… but you refuse to stop telling the story. and you refuse to stop loving the people in it.”
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🌸 ( who hurt you *gently touches photo of Hanaka* )
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granjagranja2 · 4 months
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My oc on boyfriend to death (chapter 3, part 2)
The alarm went off, the sun streaming in through the window. The first thing she saw was Ren, still sleepy at her, kissing the tip of her nose "good morning love". M/C, feeling dizzy, let out a groan before replying "morning" back. Usually they would sleep spooning her, with him behind her holding her in a hug, tail and legs wrapped around her, but this time he was hugging her from in front of her, because of the 'marks' he had on her back . He sat up in her arms, yawned and looked at her for a few moments before asking "did you sleep well?" he-he had given her some painkillers, the empty glass still on the nightstand-"I think so. Thanks." Despite her statement, he still looked thoughtful. He smiled kindly at her, "we need to change your bandages, or 'll get infected. Roll over onto your stomach." He helped her get onto her back, arranging her pillows. He asked her if she was comfortable in that position, if she should bring her more pillows or painkillers. Then he left and returned to the room, with more gauze, disinfectant and a full-length mirror. Did you want her to look again?. The fox boy climbed onto the bed on all fours and began to gently remove the bandages. Once he did, he looked at her through the mirror and told her "healing well." She, understanding what she wanted, looked at herself in the mirror. The phrase 'believe in me and only me' stood out on his skin, still red and fresh. "I-I think so…." She felt too sore to give him a more cheerful response, but Ren still seemed satisfied. "I'm about to use the disinfectant darling." Despite the warning, M/C couldn't suppress a hiss of pain. "I'm sorry." He seemed to have said it in a sincere, almost sweet tone. He told her a caress and continued to medicate her. In all this M/C still felt strange, she didn't think that what he had given her was simple ibufrofen or aspirin. But one thing she was sure of was that he was taking care of her like no one had ever done. His caresses, his attentions…. so sweet, so pleasant…. He couldn't concentrate. Why was he rebelling before? He no longer remembered. "Ren?" - "yes?" - he was changing her bandages – “I love you.” He paused for a moment before replying “I love you too.”
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horrorknife · 1 year
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hana chan doodles im probably gonna clean up/color later :3
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aquarterasian · 1 year
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henri and masato/ emiru and lulu hard carried hugtto
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rising-volteccers · 4 months
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So this is just a self indulgent piece exploring a silly idea I had, where Friede latches on to the closest warm object when he's out of it. Thanks to @gem-in-the-horizon for giving me the idea to write up a sort of 5+1 piece and for inspiration on some of the scenes written here! I decided to fully embrace the self indulgence by framing some parts from the perspective of polycule Volt Tacklers (a ship between Friede, Orla, Mollie and Murdock) + a bit of Friede being a dad towards Roy haha!
Oh and Amethio gets to suffer a little too. Anyway, hopefully it's an enjoyable read! Spoilers for HZ033-HZ034.
Series: Pokemon Horizons
Characters: Friede, Ludlow, Orla, Mollie, Murdock, Roy and Amethio
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Ludlow was no stranger to how unpredictable the seas could be. Seeing a smattering of gray clouds in the distance, he knew it was time to leave. While it was a shame to cut their fishing trip short, Ludlow preferred to be on land when the storm inevitably hits.
“Huh? We're heading back already, Gramps?” Friede questioned once he stored away his fishing rod.
“Mmhmm. The weather's changing. No sailor wants to be out on stormy seas if they could help it,” Ludlow explained, shuffling his way past Friede towards the helm.
“It's going to storm? Doesn't look like it.”
“Hohoho. You best not underestimate nature.” Ludlow’s hands were on the wheel. He lifted his head, peering at the clouds slowly encroaching. After a beat of silence, he opted to release his trusty Quagsire.
“We might need your help soon, my friend,” Ludlow spoke to his Quagsire. The amphibious Pokemon waddled past Friede who joined Ludlow by the helm. 
“Is it really going to get that bad?” Ludlow caught the undercurrent of worry in his voice. He turned to look over his shoulder, his thick mustache lifting alongside the smile he flashed towards Friede.
“Don't worry. I'll make sure we get back to shore safely.”
True to Ludlow's claim earlier, they were met with rough, choppy waves once the storm fully rolled in. He masterfully steered the Asagi–with Quagsire’s aid in guiding through larger waves–back to Porto Marinada. 
Once he docked the Asagi by the main port, only then did Ludlow release his hands from the steering wheel. Shoulders slumped alongside his soft sigh, it took several seconds for him to recall Friede's presence.
Looking behind him, Ludlow spotted his young charge huddled by the corner, knees drawn to his chest with his arms wrapped around them. It didn't take much for Ludlow to realize that this was possibly a terrifying experience for him. They were never out on the seas with anything less than perfect weather before this after all. 
Feeling his heart twinge with concern, Ludlow shuffled his way towards Friede. He gently placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
“Friede… it’s alright. We're back–ough!?” Ludlow's eyes briefly flew open when Friede's arms suddenly wound up around his small frame. Pulled against his chest, Ludlow didn't even think about struggling once he noticed the light trembles.
Ludlow relaxed his body to make it a bit more comfortable for himself. He raised a hand to gently pat Friede's back, offering quiet assurances for however long it took for him to calm down.
When Orla poked her head into the meeting room, her gaze softened upon spotting Friede fast asleep on the spare couch. From the scattered pieces of paper all over the ground, it seemed that he really was studying hard to earn his pilot license.
On the days where Orla worked on turning a fool’s dream into reality, Friede busied himself in Rustboro’s flight school, clocking in his flight hours and doing tests every other week. He returned periodically, both to see her progress and let her know of his own, all beaming smiles and wild hand gestures that never failed to draw out Orla’s own smile. His excitement was infectious, while his genuine awe and gratitude at her handiwork caused warmth to blossom in her chest. 
Quietly closing the door behind her, Orla got to work in picking up the papers, stacking them on the table so she didn't accidentally step on it. After that, she grabbed a spare blanket from the pile of boxes tucked at a corner before making her way back to the couch.
Looking down at his slumbering form, she couldn't help but find him rather cute like this. Messy bangs covered one side of his face, lips parted slightly from the soft snores slipping out–she just about resisted the urge to reach out and brush back his bangs.
Orla briefly shook her head, then began the process of carefully draping the blanket over him.
When Friede shifted underneath it, she froze, hands still on the blanket. Orla looked at his face to see golden eyes slowly opening, blinking a couple of times before they flickered to her.
“Orla?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
“Hey Friede, sorry for waking you up,” she began in a whispered voice. “I was just–”
Orla didn't get to finish her sentence. Faster than she could react, arms suddenly shot up from underneath the blanket, wrapping themselves around her back before pulling her down. 
She let out an undignified yelp, just about throwing her hands out to prevent a collision with Friede's chest. Orla’s heart rate picked up when she realized the position she was in; half sprawled over Friede, her cheek pressed against his torso. 
“F-Friede! What are you–!?” she squeaked, feeling her cheeks warm up. Orla tried to push herself up but Friede's arms trapped her in place. 
“Mmm… warm…” came his confusing response before his breaths evened out, falling back into slumber. 
Orla took a few deep breaths to calm down. Right, so it seemed that in his half awakened state, Friede decided to latch onto the closest warm object. She knew of his sensitivity to the cold, craving warmth even if he was struck by a simple breeze. That was why she wanted to cover him with the blanket, knowing full well that he'd whine about it later.
She knew that the best course of action was to pry herself loose from his arms. Orla still had a lot of work to do if she wanted to finish the airship on schedule.
Yet when an experimental wiggle prompted Friede to rest his cheek atop her head, mumbling cutely about passing his tests, she didn't have it in her to disturb his slumber.
Orla heaved out a deep, resigned sigh. Despite her feelings on the matter, a smile still curled her lips. Might as well get comfy if she had to play the part of an oversized Teddiursa bear.
(When his steady heartbeat eventually lulled her to sleep, Orla found herself dreaming of her childhood, to a time when they were two small kids with big dreams, where their whole worlds revolved around one another).
With a small paper bag tucked underneath her arm, Mollie exited the infirmary with her Chansey toddling behind her. She headed towards the living quarters located on the lower deck, passing by several of the wild Pokemon that opted to join them on their travels. Mollie flashed them a light smile before schooling her features once she spotted Orla standing outside.
“Hey, thanks for keeping watch,” Mollie said in lieu of greeting. “He didn't try to make an escape again, did he?”
“No problem! And nope, think he got the message last time. Or at least he’s finally exhausted himself enough to just stay in bed,” Orla replied, slightly shaking her head. “Honestly, he should have done that in the first place but…”
“You and I both know that he's incapable of staying still for long. Still, he needs plenty of rest if he wants to recover quickly.”
Mollie quickly learnt that Friede, when under the weather, became quite the menace of a patient. She wanted to believe that he wasn't intentionally crossing her orders but she could only take so much of his escape attempts before enough was enough. 
She had a responsibility for the health and safety of this ship's occupants, which included making sure the sick stay in bed even when they really didn't want to. Luckily they were docked for a few days while waiting for Friede to get better, so Mollie employed Orla's aid whenever she had to grab stuff from the infirmary. 
“It's pretty quiet in there so my guess is that he really did fall asleep. Means you'd have to wake him up.”
“Shouldn't be too hard,” Mollie uttered, passing by Orla to give gentle raps on the door. From the lack of a response, she slowly pushed it open and peeked her head inside. 
True to Orla's assumption, Friede was fast asleep on his bed. He had his back to the wall, giving Mollie easy access to his peaceful, dozing expression. 
Momentarily she felt guilty to wake him up but it was necessary that he took the medicine on time. Mollie switched on the light before crossing the short distance to his bed.
Looming over his form, Mollie placed a hand on Friede's shoulder, giving it a few light shakes. 
“Friede, wake up.”
“Mmm…?” It appeared that she roused him from his slumber. Friede raised a clumsy hand to swipe at his face, yawning.
“C’mon, it's time for–”
Mollie would deny that she made any sort of noise when Friede, faster than she could react, reached up to wrap his arms around her. She’d insist that she did not squeak upon realizing the precarious position of being on top of him flushed against this chest. It was just the surprise that increased her heart rate, the close proximity to his fevered skin that made her cheeks warm.
Mollie had little chance to free herself. Friede already had more (defined) muscle mass in the first place. His surprisingly strong grip with his (toned) arms reminded her of an Octillery that caught its prey (not that she'd see herself as one but–)
“Orla help!”
“Mollie? What happened–oh.” Orla had rushed in at the call but paused once she took in the sight. Much to Mollie's rising embarrassment, Orla stifled her giggles behind a gloved hand.
“It's Friede he just–grabbed me like this!”
“Yeah he does that sometimes. When he's out of it, he tends to grab the nearest warm object within arm's length. In this case, I'd say you were unfortunate. Or maybe fortunate…?”
Mollie didn't think it was possible for her cheeks to get any redder. In any case, Orla did eventually help her out (but not before snapping a photo). 
“Hey Murdock. Muuuurrdooock…”
Murdock paused in his task of drying off the plates. He mentally counted down from three in his head before looking over his shoulder, expression schooled into a light smile. 
“Yes Friede? What is it this time?”
“Nothing. Just wanna–wanna say you’re preeetttyyy….”
Arceus above please grant him strength. Murdock fought to keep his smile in place even as warmth crept up his cheeks. He nodded once in response, then went back to his task before any more distractions cropped up.
Who would've thought that Friede was such a lightweight? After the success of a rather lucrative mission, the crew decided to celebrate. Murdock had the chance to make some nice cocktails as a rare treat, though nothing too strong as per Mollie's request.
It became apparent after the first glass that Friede didn't hold his drink very well. He became a rather giggly sort of drunk, spouting off whatever that came to mind. So not too different from his usual self. 
Except he lacked even more of a filter, or maybe he was honestly revealing his true thoughts when he waxed tales of how beautiful Orla’s eyes were, how much he loved Mollie's hair and–oh boy, did Friede have some words to share about him.
Murdock tried not to melt underneath the barrage of drunken compliments. It didn't help that Mollie and Orla joined him, being in various degrees of tipsiness themselves. Though not as nearly gone as Friede.
In the end, Murdock convinced his partners to get some rest before they partied too hard. After he made them drink some water first, that left him alone with Friede, who was far too sloshed to make it to his room safely. Murdock wouldn't put it past him to trip and break his leg or something in his drunken stumble.
Hearing him babble about anything and everything was rather endearing, albeit distracting. Especially when Friede felt the need to call for him, just to spout off a compliment about how pretty he was for the umpteenth time. 
It never failed to make Murdock feel a tad embarrassed, not used to such words given to him. He was still finding his place in this relationship, and while he didn't feel like he lacked anything in comparison skill wise, he just didn't think he was as physically attractive as his partners. 
So while Friede was influenced by alcohol in his system, Murdock didn't doubt the sincerity of his words. That was one of the reasons he fell for his captain in the first place after all.
Eventually, Murdock cleaned the kitchen enough to be satisfied. The only thing left to do was to bring Friede back to his room before retiring to his own quarters for the night.
Murdock approached his drunken partner, who by that point had fallen into a light doze. Friede rested his chin atop folded arms, a healthy flush coloring his cheeks. Maybe Murdock could see about having him drink water too later. 
For now, he gently placed a hand on Friede's shoulder, giving it a light shake. That appeared to rouse him, so Murdock got a nice view of Friede blinking sleepily, one hand clumsily swiping at his eyes.
“Hey, how about we get you to–woah!” Contrary to how he looked, Friede's reflexes didn't match his drunken state. Murdock suddenly had to offset the abrupt weight clinging to his front, his arms automatically wrapping themselves around Friede.
“Murdock! Murdooockk missed you!” Friede giggled, and Murdock just about short circuited when he felt the nuzzling against this chest. He didn't think it was possible to get any redder than he did earlier but clearly, he was mistaken.
After he took a few breaths to calm down, Murdock decided that it'd be a waste of effort to try and get Friede to let go. He heard stories of how strong his grip could be, and Murdock just didn't have the energy to deal with that right now.
So what he ended up doing was hooked his arms beneath Friede, pulling him up further so Murdock could carry him. At the shift in position, Friede wound up wrapping his arms around Murdock's neck, resting his cheek against the crook of it, still giggling softly.
“Murdock. Muuuurrdooock. Love you…”
While Friede might not remember this in the morning, Murdock still responded with, “Love you too.”
Crossing paths with the Rising Volt Tacklers meant an inevitable clash against their infuriating captain. Amethio wasted no time in issuing his challenge when he came across Friede, who foolishly parted from his crew upon realizing his approach.
“No need to drag anyone else in this. This shouldn't take too long,” came his simple reply, lips set in a challenging smirk.
Amethio’s left eye twitched from that taunt, though he kept himself composed to release Ceruledge. Friede mirrored him by bringing out his Charizard. For a moment, no one issued any commands, both Trainer and Pokemon staring down their respective opponents.
Friede broke the stalemate by ordering a Dragon Claw. Amethio ordered Ceruledge to block it, thus activating its Weak Armor. Now with the speed advantage, he had Ceruledge use Psycho Cut to create some distance.
Predictably, Friede ordered Charizard to pull back in order to dodge the psychic blade. 
“Night Slash!” Amethio took that brief moment by having Ceruledge press its advantage, dashing towards Charizard with its glowing arm blades. 
“Tch–Air Slash! Don't let it get close!” 
Charizard did as such, its wings briefly glowing white before a bevy of air slashes were fired off towards Ceruledge. 
“Now, use Phantom Force!” 
Ceruledge parried one of the air slashes with its blade before jumping back towards the formed portal. Both Charizard and Friede paused, eyes going this way and that to seek out where Ceruledge would pop out. 
“There! Spin tail before using Dragon Claw!” Just as Ceruledge emerged behind Charizard, the dual-type spun around, using its hefty tail to nail Ceruledge. Though before it could follow that up with Dragon Claw, Ceruledge's Weak Armor activated, granting it another speed boost to just barely avoid those glowing claws.
“Psycho Cut! Don't give it any breathing room!”
Ceruledge first jumped back to create distance once again. Then it fired off several blades of psychic energy towards Charizard.
What Amethio didn't take into account was the Pokemon’s distance from Friede. Charizard dodged or parried most of the Psycho Cuts but one did veer dangerously close to Friede. 
Amethio saw how the older Trainer dodged, causing the blade to hit the bush behind him instead. There was a miniature explosion from the impact, though nothing that would stop the pair from their battle. 
That was, until an angry looking Shiinotic popped out from the damaged bush. Amethio found himself calling out a warning instead when the Grass-type puffed up.
Friede turned around just in time to get a face full of glowing spores. Charizard and Ceruledge paused in their battle at the eruption of coughs, and Amethio felt a small chill trail down his spine when moments later, Friede just… collapsed. 
As much as he wanted to beat him, Amethio didn't want Friede to actually get hurt. His steps carried him towards Friede's fallen form while Charizard angrily chased after the Shiinotic, furious at its attack on its Trainer.
Amethio fell to his knees, eyes immediately roving over still body. At least Friede seemed to be breathing based on the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He couldn't tell how badly affected Friede was from the spore so Amethio took off a glove, intending to check for his pulse.
That proved to be a huge mistake on his end. The moment Amethio leaned in and had two fingers to the side of Friede's neck, an arm suddenly shot up to wrap around his waist. Moments later, Amethio collided against Friede's chest when the guy abruptly pulled him close. 
That moment knocked the breath out of Amethio but it didn't take long before he started struggling.
“What are you–let me go!” he snarled, any hints of concern evaporating once he heard the soft snores. This guy was just fast asleep! How dare he grab him like this?
Amethio didn't expect such strength from Friede's lanky arms. No matter how much he struggled, the guy held on like a Grapploct. Even Ceruledge just sort of stood nearby, uncharacteristically hesitant in the face of its Trainer’s desperation.
Briefly Amethio considered ordering Ceruledge to Bitter Blade Friede's butt into next Sunday but his pesky morals kept buzzing at the back of his mind. He released an aggravated sigh, then redoubled his efforts into freeing himself from the Vice Grip. 
At some point, Amethio thought that getting into a different position would give him enough wiggle room to slip out. His plan of rolling on their side backfired horribly when Friede (who remained infuriatingly asleep) lazily rolled half on top of Amethio instead, one leg now pinning both of Amethio's in place.
As if to add insult to injury, Friede lightly nuzzled the top of Amethio's head, messing up his hair.
Only Ceruledge saw how apoplectic with rage he became. If Amethio elbowed the guy in the stomach or kneed him at a spot where the sun didn't shine, well, it was entirely deserved.
Maybe if he got lucky, Amethio could get out of this mess before anyone saw him. 
(He was not lucky. Amethio very nearly considered asking for Spinel’s expertise in erasing a snapped picture that now existed in one of the RVTs Rotom Phones but he wasn't that desperate. Yet).
After his talk with Diana, Friede quietly left the observation deck, mind filled with various thoughts. Today had been more action packed than usual, filled with danger that they narrowly avoided.
Had Terapagos not… shifted like it did, Friede wasn't keen on their chances of getting past Rayquaza unscathed. He already had his hands full in keeping Roy back, and after the Legendary became enraged at Amethio's abrupt challenge, he didn't think even Charizard and Cap could stop its rampage. 
Speaking of Roy, he recalled the surge of fear when he saw the shockwave heading towards the boy. Roy might not have gotten badly hurt but Friede didn't want to risk it, his body surging forward to cover Roy in a protective embrace. 
He remembered the growing frustration of his insistence in fighting Rayquaza. Roy did have a one track mind when it came to the Legendary but he didn't realize it was to the extent of not recognising the danger they were in. While Friede typically supported his goal, that wasn't a moment to let Roy do what he wanted. 
Friede promised his grandfather to keep Roy safe after all.
Above all, Friede couldn't shake off the mild concern at Roy's despondent mood throughout dinner time. Sure it wasn't as lively as usual (unsurprising considering the day they had) but seeing Roy eat only two servings as opposed to his usual three was rather surprising. 
Roy waved off Murdock's worried question, citing his exhaustion for the lack of appetite. No one pushed him about it, so dinner ended with everyone choosing to retire early for the night. 
Well, mostly everyone.
Sighing softly, Friede raised his hand to gently scratch Cap underneath his chin.
“Guess we should get some sleep too, eh Cap?”
At the nod, Friede made his way to the lower deck. Just as he rounded the corner towards the living quarters, he paused in his steps.
There, sitting right outside of his room was Roy. He was hugging Fuecoco to his chest, chin resting atop the Fire-type’s head. Even from where he stood, Friede could tell that the boy was fast asleep.
Now the question was why did he come here? 
Friede quietly approached the boy, glancing down at his half slumped form against the door. He crouched down till he was eye level with Roy before placing a hand on his shoulder, giving it a few light shakes.
“Hey Roy, wake up. It's more comfy to sleep in your room–huh?”
Friede barely had time to react when one of Roy’s arms suddenly shot up, hooking itself behind Friede's neck, his other one still holding on to Fuecoco. Roy then pulled himself close to Friede, tucking himself against his torso.
On Friede's end, he just about kept his balance from the sudden added weight. He remained crouched, one arm going around Roy’s body to keep him secured, an instinctive gesture for the most part.
“Pika?”
“Ah… guess I'm in a bit of a pickle,” he murmured, eyes flickering to Cap. Then it went to Roy, who remained blissfully unaware of the predicament he placed himself in. 
Briefly Friede considered his options. In the end, he decided that it was easier to just bring him back to his room instead of waking him up. With that plan in mind, Friede hooked one arm underneath Roy’s knees. Using the wall for balance, he slowly rose to his feet, carefully adjusting his grip on Roy until he was standing upright.
Roy merely nuzzled his cheek against Friede's chest. Once he got to Roy’s room, getting the boy to let go had been quite the challenge but he managed it in the end. Just as Friede tucked Roy and Fuecoco in, he just about caught faint mumbles that sounded suspiciously like thank you.
Friede didn't know if Roy was even awake but it sparked something warm within his chest, a feeling that he carried with him all the way back to his own room much later.
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scarvi-tealdisc · 3 months
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After slowly writing this out through the week, I'm done with the second chapter! What I'm learning from writing this is to find a balance between writing out Zorua's POV while progressing the vague plot I have in mind. I want to write out all the ideas I have but I also don't want to drag stuff out for too long you know?
Anyways, I hope this is an enjoyable chapter! This AU is inspired from ideas shared by @ducydoo2000!
Series: Pokemon
Characters: Drayton (Hisuian Zorua)
[Read previous chapter]
Chapter 2
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Awareness slowly trickled back in as it roused from a deep, dreamless sleep. It wanted nothing more than to burrow back into that peaceful darkness but its body had other plans. No matter how much it tried to ignore, it became painfully aware of all the aches and pains plaguing it.
A soft whine slipped out of its slightly parted mouth. With eyes still shut, it slowly turned on its side. It stretched out its front paws first, then the back legs. A surprised yelp erupted from the sudden ripple of pain. While dulled, it was present enough that it immediately went into alert, eyes snapping open. 
It didn’t know where it was.
This was not the icy landscape that it knew all its life. This wasn’t even the rocky, damp cavity of its den. While it was in an enclosed space, the smooth grey-white barriers were foreign to it. Various objects were scattered all around this strangely bright cave, nothing recognizable sans vague understandings of its origins.
It seemed to be laying on something soft and plush; akin to that of its littermates huddling together and it got to be the one laying partially on top. It experienced a fleeting sense of awe when a cautious press against the plushness left no imprint. It went right back to being smooth and soft.
The brown colored objects reminded it of wooden boxes the elder Zoroark brought back from time to time. They were often filled with food to share with the pack, and it was always a special occasion as they’d feast like kings on various berries rarely found within the frozen terrain. 
It also spotted various differently colored cloths draped over the boxes, on the floor, even hung on the walls. Those were vastly superior to the tattered, dulled ones often used to pad out the sleeping nest. Like the boxes, the cloths were typically brought back by elder Zoroark that returned back from…
Its ears flickered to the odd noise coming from the wall. One section had the same brownish shade of the boxes, and its eyes widened in surprise when it suddenly swung open.
“Oh, it seems like you’re awake.”
At the sight of the tall, shadowed figure of a human, memories instantly rushed back with such intensity that it made its head hurt. 
Humansangryparentbloodhurtscaredrunrunrun–
The singular step towards its direction prompted it to jump out of the soft bedding it was on, scrambling immediately towards the closest object that provided cover. It wasted no time in wiggling underneath the crack and went to the far back of the wall. 
“Ah, guess I scared you huh.”
The human’s foreign words carried no malice but it would not lower its guard. Now it knew that it was trapped in a human’s den with no immediate escape routes. That spot where the human entered seemed to be the only one that led outside but it couldn’t get there, not with it being closed once more. 
Approaching footsteps provoked it into growling, fur puffing up alongside the wisp on its head. Even though it was trapped, if the human tried anything to do harm, it will fight with all its might. Sharp teeth and claws still hurt when aimed at fleshy bits after all.
The human’s feet paused in front of the crack’s entrance. It barred its teeth when yellow-gold eyes peeked at it. The shade evoked memories of its parent, bringing forth sorrow that nearly drowned out its wariness. Unfortunately, it could not afford to mourn its lost, not when faced with extreme danger.
The stand off between it and the enemy lasted for what seemed like forever before the human conceded first. That instinctive fear of being stared down by a predator eased up ever so slightly once those yellow-gold eyes disappeared.
“Okay, I’ll leave you alone. At least eat the food here, alright? It’ll help you recover faster.”
It remained on high alert until the human moved away from its cover. Something was placed on the ground next to the soft bedding, nothing discernible to its eyes right now. Distant footsteps eventually faded altogether once it was left alone, the entrance opened and shut at the human’s exit.
Despite being the only one within the cave, it remained hidden for quite awhile, curled up into a small ball of fur. Its lack of knowledge about humans meant that it had a severe disadvantage, namely that it didn't know their hunting periods.
The elder Zoroark only went out during dusk and dawn, where they had the cover of darkness to further conceal their presence. It could not tell day or night in here, making it more difficult to gauge the human’s return. A single lapse in judgment might spell the end so it had no choice but to wary.
Still, it couldn’t remain that high strung for long. Being alert left it exhausted, reminded of the wounds it sustained before it was caught. Speaking of, it never really crossed its mind during its panic that the injury should’ve hurt more. It was still aware of its dull, persistent presence but that was it. No stabbing, sharp pain.
Curiosity eventually made it uncurl from its tight, protective ball. It twisted its head to look down at its leg. Some kind of white cloth was wrapped around the injury, and a tentative sniff made it rear its head back when a strong, foreign scent assaulted its senses.
How did it get there? The only one it could think of was the human that captured it but that made zero sense. If it took the time to really think, dulling the pain was counterproductive for the human. Wouldn’t it be better to leave it injured so it had little chance of fighting back? And going by that line of thought, the entire set-up seemed off now.
Why did the human bring it back to this cave? It awoke atop soft, warm bedding instead of something cold and hard. Being unconscious meant that there were plenty of chances to put it out of its misery and yet, upon entering earlier, it wasn’t immediately attacked. The human merely followed after it, observed for a moment before leaving it alone again.
It didn’t understand the human’s actions. For all of its short life, it was taught that humans were the enemy. Humans will harm its kin so it must remain hidden. The thought that this could all be some elaborate trap to lower its guard crossed its mind once again but then that begged the question: why?
Why was it kept alive?
This ambiguity made its head hurt. In a way, it’d be much easier had the human simply snuff out its life back in that unknown scenery. Then it wouldn’t have to live with this uncertainty of having its life toyed with. 
It whined softly. It missed its parent, its littermates, its den–all of which no longer existed. It knew that its parent protected it so that it could live on but…
The sound of its stomach growling pulled it away from spiraling. It couldn’t remember the last time it ate. Hunger gnawed at its belly before but the pain took greater presence. Now with it dulled, the hunger came knocking back with a vengeance.
Perhaps it could seek out food within this cave? Surely humans wouldn’t leave their den devoid of anything to eat? It recalled the elder Zoroark bringing out berries from a stash hidden within the den when the elements became too harsh for hunting. It believed that humans were as smart as they were cruel so with that fueling it, a little furry body eventually crawled out of the hiding space. 
It made a cautious sweep of its surroundings, eyes flickering to the closed entrance. It needed to be alert, ready to hide again if the human returned. 
Now with it out in the open, a faint sweet scent caught its attention. It came in the direction of the soft bedding, where upon closer inspection, it found a bowl of… something.
The scent came off from the pile of brown and red bits. It didn’t recognize the brown stuff but the red ones reminded it of berries that it ate before. Did the human left it here before they left? Why? Was it because they wanted to feed it? Another reason why this entire situation made its head hurt. None of the human’s actions made sense.
Its stomach growled once more. Hunger beckoned it to take a bite out of the sweet scented mystery food. This might just be a trap where the food was poisoned but it also smelled really good…
Well, if it was poisoned, perhaps it won’t be such a bad way to end. At least it’d be on a full stomach. That was how it tried to rationalize the situation. 
Swallowing, it cautiously approached the bowl. Leaning down to take another tentative sniff, it decided to go for the red bits that it thought were berries. After a few slow bites, its eyes widened in surprise.
The red bits were delicious! It did taste like the berries it ate before but much sweeter! When it took a bite of the brown stuff, the taste was different but no less appetizing. It began to scarf the mystery food down before long, uncaring at the prospect of it potentially being poisoned in the face of such tastiness gracing its tongue. If it was meant to die after finishing this, at least it wouldn’t be hungry. 
Somehow, it avoided choking from eating everything so quickly. By the time only morsels were left in the bowl, it wobbled a few steps towards the bedding, flopping down rather ungracefully atop its softness.
Rationally, it should go back into hiding instead of being vulnerable like this. Time must have passed while it ate, and while it didn’t know how long humans took to hunt, they could return at any time. Yet with a belly full of yummy, potentially poisoned food, summoning up the energy to do so felt like an impossibility. 
Sleepiness now clouded its vision, the want to close its eyes and slumber on became increasingly hard to ignore. In the end, it decided that it will only sleep for a moment. Just enough to ease the exhaustion before it went back into hiding. Surely it would pick up the sound of the human’s return. It did have good hearing after all.
Soon, it fell into a deep sleep. Unlike what it thought, it remained snoozing on when the entrance opened, unaware of the human that peeked into the room to find it lying on the soft bedding.
“Ah, at least someone was hungry,” the human whispered in their foreign tongue. 
Had it been awake, it would be confused that the human opted to carefully approach it, as if mindful of the noise they made so they wouldn’t disturb its sleep. The emptied bowl was picked up instead, and with the same amount of consideration, the human left the room just as quietly. 
Outside of the hastily prepared room, Drayven idly tapped a beat atop his forearm. He glanced down at his bandaged hand, the one that got bit yesterday by the strange Pokemon now sleeping peacefully inside. 
When he came across the injured little one during one of his morning walks outside of Opelucid City, he knew that he had to help it. Maybe he should have exercised more tact on how he approached it—his wife certainly gave him an earful while she disinfect the wound—but at the very least, he got it back home after it exhausted itself within his arms.
Drayven knew that for a speedy recovery, he should have brought the little one to a Pokemon Center instead. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to, not when he saw how terrified it looked. Call it instincts but he had the feeling that had he done so, he would never be able to see it again. 
The Pokemon didn’t look like anything he saw before. While it did have a similar build to Zorua, that was where the resemblance ended. Drayven concluded that the little one might be a rare Pokemon, and if he took into consideration the open fear it had towards him, one that had an unpleasant experience with humans.
This was all speculation of course but that was what his gut told him. If Drayven were to put his trust in something, it’d be just that. It was that very same feeling that led him and Elyssa to adopt the girl his dad introduced them to after all. 
Speaking of his dad, maybe it was time that he asked for the old man’s opinion in this matter. If anyone knew how to handle wild and distrustful Pokemon, it’d be him.
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tiredgreenphysicist · 2 years
Text
Title: Vulnerability of sleep
Characters involved: Bruce, Thor
Idea: Bruce’s bed hogging habits comes from a place of love and safety
I was 100% inspired by this art piece shared in the Thorbruce server by sydmish and my brain needed to write it out haha. Thank you for allowing me to share the art as well!
----
When Thor awakens on the floor, there is only fondness in his chest.
He muffles a yawn while he pushes himself into a seated position. Blinking sleepily, he takes a few measured breaths before he peeks onto the bed, finding the increasingly familiar sight of Bruce imitating that starfish that he saw during their visit to the aquarium months ago. 
Thor rises to his feet proper so he can carefully sit on the edge of the bed. He quietly observes his sleeping partner. The gentle rise and fall of his chest. A faint snore that only comes from deep sleep. His arms and legs spread out, as if he’s trying to occupy this entire bed himself. 
Thor loves seeing this. Even if he has to curl himself tight to stay on whatever little space Bruce leaves him with, at times waking up on the floor because even in sleep he’s accommodating towards Bruce’s comfort, he loves it. To see a man that’s been hurt over and over again, engraving habits geared towards survival into his very skin sleeping so carelessly is just…
It’s hard to describe, only that he’s willing to endure a little discomfort because Bruce loves and trusts him intimately even in the vulnerability of sleep. How can he repay that other than embracing his bed hogging habits?
Thor eventually lays back down, this time on the side facing Bruce. He can easily fall off the bed again if he rolls over but that’s alright. It’s worth it to see this sight. His hand reaches out to settle on Bruce’s, slowly slotting their fingers together.
Bruce makes a low, indistinguishable noise at that. Thor freezes, the beginnings of guilt seeping in at his impulsive action waking his lover up from much needed slumber. The faint squeeze from their linked hands is his only warning before Bruce suddenly rolls over to tuck himself against him. 
Thor releases a slow breath, staring down at curly, salt and peppered hair. Despite having plenty of room to be comfortable if he moved them closer to the center of the bed, he remained in his precarious position, one arm pinned underneath Bruce’s body. 
Bruce murmurs something that suspiciously sounds like his name and oh, the fondness welling within him threatens to bring him low had he been upright. Thor might find himself on the floor again, or wake up with a numb arm but it’s all worth it.
Thor gently places a kiss atop Bruce’s forehead, eyes sliding shut to rejoin his lover in slumber.
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hanafubukki · 1 year
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Does anyone know how twisted wonderland got started? I love to write stories and poetry, but this game idea was so surprising and so good! Im almost done with book 5, I was just wondering if anyone knew or would like to talk about ideas. Anyway, thanks!
Hello Crystal 💕💝🌺
I remember reading about how Disney went to Yana and talked to her about a game and then she jokingly mentioned an idea and they ran with it 🤔 and how she just straight up built a summary and such and they really liked it. But it’s been awhile so I could be getting some stuff mixed up.
You can read her interview here, it was from her first magical archives book she released
There’s lots of facts and such she talks about and I believe someone also translates pages about the dorms too here on tumblr, I’ll see if I can find it.
Good luck on Book 5 Crystal ☺️💕
If anyone else knows the username I’m talking about please let me know ☺️🌺
And please have a chat with Crystal too, they are very fun to talk too. 💕💐🌺
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ragnar0c · 3 months
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Live tweeting writing rn/j
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ceruleanpunch · 11 months
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love bumping up the speed to 1.5/2x when a bit sucks in sol/romcom/etc ani like. cease this nonsense immediately
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cyberrat · 1 year
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71st Batch Of Fics: 14th Fill
Brigitte/Hana – 5/5 – Cont B70F15 – trans woman Brigitte; impregnation kink – the grand finale. NNnghhhh
---
Hana is letting herself fall back onto the table, her arms out at her sides like a starfish, just gaping at the ceiling while Brigitte slowly feeds her candy pink cunt with cock.
“Fuck,” she whispers a few times, eyes fluttering closed at certain moments.
Brigitte almost stops, unsure whether she is actually happy with it all but whenever she slows down her slow push inward, Hana’s inner muscles clamp down on her like she will actually draw blood if Brigitte were to pull out again.
So she doesn’t. She’s no moron, okay? She’s just madly head-over-heels in love with a pixie girlie who looks like she is having a religious experience while getting her dick.
No biggie. No need to panic.
God fuck Hana feels so good around her dick.
Hana laughs, her eyes opening, pupils blown huge as she stares at Brigitte. “I feel good? Damn, girl- you really need to get your own dick or something… shit-” Maybe Brigitte said something out loud?
It’s hard to focus when she is bottoming out and around her cock is nothing but molten heat and clenching muscles that take her breath away. She leans forward, bracing herself next to Hana’s head and for a moment completely gets distracted by the sight of her small tits nearly vanishing with how she spread her arms out to the sides.
They still jiggle plenty, though, when Brigitte does her first thrust. Or her second. Or her third.
Hana’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. Brigitte knows exactly how she feels. There is heat crawling up her spine and settling at the back of her neck while her cock keeps flexing and jumping inside the slippery clutch of her tight snatch.
Can she feel it? Can she feel just how pathetically excited Brigitte is to finally be exactly here? She hopes Hana does. She wants her to know just how much she loves this.
Hana curls her arms around Brigitte. Her legs as well. She’s wrapped around her and is not showing any signs of ever wanting to let go.
“Faster,” Hana whines. She sounds like the word is fucked out of her by Brigitte’s thrusting cock. “Harder!”
The words send additional ripples of sensation through Brigitte’s body. An electrical current that feels like it is vibrating in her teeth. Her heart is beating so fast but she feels so surprisingly calm as she complies with the demand and starts to buck harder. Faster. Fucking into Hana. Spearing her on her cock over and over again until the wet slap of her hips against Hana is louder than even their ragged breathing.
It feels like she is frothing up her juices. They’re tickling her balls and dripping down to the ground.
God, her balls… they ache with how full they are. How ready to pump out a big nasty load right into Hana’s womb. Right where she can use it.
“I’m gonna knock you up so good,” she gasps, a few drops of her sweat dripping onto Hana’s forehead.
The other girl is staring up at her with eyes so large they seem to be taking up her whole face. They’re all Brigitte can see, anyway. Her big brown eyes, pupils dilated enough to almost swallow all the color.
“Yeah… yeah… yeah, pump it in me,” Hana gasps. She keeps sliding her hands nervously all around Brigitte’s back, looking for some purchase. She finally finds it at the back of her neck – and in her ponytail. She has a fist around her hair and pulls hard on it but Brigitte wouldn’t be able to stop her thrusts even if she wanted to.
Her head is pulled back. She hisses. Her hips buck harder but Hana just keeps egging her on and not letting her get away.
“Will you fuck me when you got me pregnant? Huh? Will you get off on seeing how huge my belly will become? You’re so tall, I bet I’ll be massive… fuck… holy shit- right there-”
Hana’s heels are kicking at Brigitte’s back, her voice having suddenly climbed an octave or more. It is music to Brigitte’s ears. Even though they’re ringing quite a bit after the images Hana has planted in her mind.
Her with a huge pregnant belly… it swinging underneath her as Brigitte gets to fuck her fertile, sloppy cunt… probably constantly wet because she is so horny, horny, horny-
Brigitte, feeling emboldened, pulls away from Hana’s desperately clawing hands. It hurts to have her hair pulled on like that but it’s not like the other girl can help it right now. Her eyes are wide, her little tits have flushed a cute pink with exertion. She looks so damn close to an orgasm that even Brigitte can taste it on her tongue.
She grabs Hana’s knees and forces them far apart, folding her into a frog position despite Hana’s desperate babbling that she’s so close and Brigitte shouldn’t change a single fucking thing-
Brigitte has a lot more room to move once she isn’t clung to like a limpet, though. With Hana folded up into a perfect sexy little package, she can start to pump into her just like she’s always imagined; every night when desperately jerking off or fucking into a fleshlight that she bought pink and glittering just because of Hana.
The wet squelching becomes louder, Hana’s pussy clutching so desperately at her cock that it feels like her soul is going to be sucked out of her goddamn cock.
Smacksmacksmack- Brigitte’s hips hit against Hana with a staccato of single-minded, desperate thrusts. She tries to drill deep enough to hit goddamn gold. She tries to crawl into her cock first and make fucking sure all her thick, potent cum reaches right. Where. It. Needs. To. Be.
Hana’s voice is climbing higher. Is this old room sound proof? Or will the others hear her and think she is getting stabbed to death?
Brigitte keeps staring at Hana’s tits, wildly jiggling, the tips so plump and erect and perfect little gumdrops to suck into her mouth and gently torture with her teeth-
All of a sudden, Hana’s arm thrusts down. Her fingers strum over her swollen, jutting clit once, twice, thrice- Brigitte hits home, ramming into her with one final grunt of effort, and they’re both off.
Hana is shaking so hard that for a moment Brigitte is worried that she’s having a goddamn seizure. Not that she would have been able to do much about it… She’s caught in the honeyed trap of this girl’s pussy and wouldn’t have been able to take her cock from her even if she wanted. She values her life. She values even more the feeling of Hana’s snatch pulsating around her and squeezing the juices from her dick like she’s got a gun to her damn head.
Brigitte doesn’t think she’s ever come so hard in her life.
She doesn’t need to wonder whether she’s managed to knock Hana up.
What she does wonder is… are they now together?
She hopes so. She’s absolutely head over heels for this girl. She’d do anything she’d ask her to, no matter how depraved.
Hana got her around her little finger so bad it’s kind of embarrassing.
But she’s in far too deep to care.
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