#So while he looks like a volcano on the outside the red is actually more about embarrassment and like you know how people kinda blush when

[odinsblog]

It’s funny to me whenever I see Democratic loyalists (blue MAGA sycophants) talking themselves right into oblivion. Republicans are walking them to the slaughterhouse, and they’re agreeably going along in a cloud of civility and rule-following. It’s like watching a village of brainwashed people willingly walking themselves into an active volcano, and desperately trying to talk them down off the ledge, because they don’t have to sacrifice their hopes.

“Of course Pelosi has to support the anti-abortionist over the pro-choice candidate, what else can she do?”

Why does the DNC and Pelosi constantly campaign for regressive conservative “Democrats” even in safe blue districts?? WTF is the point of supporting conservative, anti-abortion “Democrats” if they are literally just Republicans with the letter “D” behind their names, who more often than not, vote with Republicans and against any progressive agenda?

“But control of the House and Senate is at stake!”

And how the fuck is that working out? Has adding more conservative politicians helped protect Roe, or has it hurt Roe? Did adding more so-called “pro-life” Democrats help protect a woman’s choice, or did that foolhardy action hurt a woman’s reproductive rights? This is not rocket science—adding more of a bad thing into the mix gives us more bad outcomes, not fewer.

“But everywhere isn’t New York City, progressivism simply doesn’t work in the Midwest.”

This is standard, boilerplate DLC/Third Way rhetoric. “You have to be even more conservative than conservatives to win in rural America,” was the key strategy of Democratic Leadership Council. “We can only win by being moderate Republicans,” was their underlying strategy. But that strategy only helps conservatives… funny how that works, isn’t it? Look, I very strongly believe that when you consistently and materially improve people’s lives, the voters will absolutely positively follow. FDR did “socialist” things like put food in people’s belly, and he was on track for a fourth term. If you think there aren’t progressive people living in Red states who wouldn’t work for a much more progressive future, I got news for you. It’s all about how you sell that vision. But corporate Democrats gave up on real deal progressivism a while back, and they want everyone else to believe that right-leaning neoliberalism is the only acceptable way forward.

“There’s nothing Biden can do to advance his agenda, he doesn’t have a supermajority.”

Look, if the votes aren’t out there, then you fucking go get them. Biden actually has the world’s largest bully pulpit and the power of executive action. Let me ask you something: If Biden raised the federal minimum wage to $15/hour and eliminated all student loan debt, do you think that would engage and motivate voters to vote for Democratic candidates in the midterm elections?? Biden could energize tf outta his base, IF he was willing to do whatever it takes. And fuuuck getting Republicans voters. They’re always going to vote for (wait for it) Republican candidates!

And you can tell when these sycophants are retreating back into their alternate reality echo chamber, because instead of engaging with what you’re actually saying, they begin to regurgitate the familiar phrases they’ve been trained to say: “you’re a bot,” or, “you’re only helping Republicans,” or “Susan Sarandon,” or “you must be a Russian spy.” LOL. God forbid if you criticize their problematic faves, or (gasp) ask for our elected officials to do better.

Centrists are getting marched to the slaughterhouse, and all they’re doing is kicking up a cloud of politeness and agreeability. God forbid they actually put up a real fight, or think outside the box for two fucking minutes. And yes, standing up for some basic ass principals is going to lose you conservative voters. So fucking what? THEY already have a political party advocating for everything they want.

JFC. If Democrats fought Republicans even half as hard as they fight the left, they would have supermajorities in both houses of Congress.

It’s not too late. There’s still time left to save Congress from Mitch McConnell and the Republican Party. But Democrats need to be willing to actually fight for it. Not just send out fundraising email blasts, but actually fight—and not for capitalism, but for democratic ideals.

#politics #joe biden #nancy pelosi #midterm elections #midterms 2022 #conservadems #centrism #neoliberalism #bidenism #hillary clinton

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Death Does Not Discriminate Between The Sinners And The Saints

It Takes And It Takes And It Takes

Part 2

Tony Stark x Male Demon Reader

Word Count: 3609

@charliedakotariley I hope this is all you wanted in your original request. Sorry I took so long to get to the actual stuff you put in your request. I hope you enjoy this!

-----------

Y/n didn't know what was going on. One moment he had been fighting Thanos's forces in Wakanda, the next, everything was getting weird. Enemies were turning to dust all around him. Worse than that, so were some of his allies.

It was bad enough that he had been separated from Tony, but now he wasn't sure if he would ever see him again. Who ever had done this was going to regret it if Tony was dead.

Y/n took a step, but before his foot even connected with the ground he was gone.

The next thing he knew he was waking up in the fields outside the city, alongside all the others. Everyone was pretty much in panic mode until a man with a deep red cloak started floating and took control.

Apparently they had been gone for five years, but more than that, there was an even bigger battle ahead of them than the one that they had just been in.

The floating guy did some odd form of magic that opened up a portal into another place. Y/n knew that then was not the time, but he felt himself go all giddy at the thought of real magic! Maybe after all this he could learn some!

The floating guy had introduced himself at some point, Y/n was sure, but he hadn't caught it and now didn't really seem like the time, so he just mentally dubbed him 'Floating Man' and moved on.

Then they were all rushing into battle, and Floating Man was not wrong. It was brutal, but Y/n couldn't help but feel he was in the wrong place. There was somewhere he needed to be, a tug inside that was pulling almost to the point of pain.

Y/n growled and dropped his perception filter, it was just draining him and he had more important things to worry about. He used the pause in onslaught to do a spin that sent a large swathe of enemies flying. Thank God for his tail, he had missed being able to give his all in battle.

In the space he had just given himself, he spun slower, looking for where it was he needed to go.

Y/n knew immediately exactly where he was meant to be. Tony was about to tackle Thanos.

Y/n smashed his tail as hard as he could into the ground and using the momentum of the shockwave caused by it, he leapt over the battlefield.

His eyes widened in horror as he watched Tony sass the mad titan. He had those damned infinity stones just about in place on his Iron Man glove. He would die if he tried to use them!

Y/n slammed into Tony at full force and wrapped himself around the stupid self-sacrificing genius just as he snapped his fingers. The energy coursed through the two beings and Y/n could feel it trying to overcome them. He knew there was a price for holding such power, but he wasn't about to let Tony pay it on his own.

He held on tighter and let out a roar, forcing himself to hold on and not be torn apart by the power of the stones.

"Don't you dare give up on me Tony! We'll go out of this world together or not at all, do you understand me?"

And then it was over. Thanos's armies were defeated, turned to dust, as was the mad titan himself.

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

It had been five years since the Avengers had managed to bring everyone back and Y/n still couldn't believe how lucky he had been. If he had been even just a second later in getting to Tony, he might not have made it.

As it was his heart had taken some serious damage, and Y/n hadn't come out of it scot-free either. He had aged noticeably.

Where he had looked near his mid twenties for centuries, he now looked to be closer to forty than thirty, but he would never consider the alternative. What were a few hundred years to him when he would get to wake up in Tony's arms because of his actions.

But he could no longer ignore the thing that had been bothering him for the last ten or so years. Tony was getting older. And, ignoring magical space stones and stupid ideas, Y/n was not.

Every morning Y/n could see more differences. Tony was aging, and normally that wouldn't be a bad thing, after all, it means that he's alive to have the chance to age, but it was becoming more apparent as the days passed, and Y/n couldn't help but realise that one day in the not so distant future he was going to be without Tony once again. Forever this time.

Everyday as he noticed the changes in Tony, Y/n became a little quieter, a little more withdrawn. He didn't want to waste the time he had left with Tony, but the spectre of death was looming ever nearer, and this time there was no other realm to break into to solve the problem.

Y/n had felt a momentary surge of hope when he remembered the gift the Queen of Asgard had promised him, but that was extinguished when he remembered what had happened to Asgard.

The sinking in his chest was getting worse. There was a pain that was consistent, a deep thrum inside that wouldn't go away. Whenever he thought about the future, or Tony dying it came back. He could sometimes forget about what was coming, but he would inevitably be reminded and the pain would resurface.

Y/n thought fleetingly of his more carefree days, when all he wanted was to cause as much chaos as he could, and he could just swan away from it without a backward glance. Tony had made him so much more than that, without even trying. He had made him feel things and there wasn't a day that went by when Y/n could bring himself to regret meeting Tony.

But that sweet joy and love was now soured by the passage of time, and Y/n wasn't sure how much more he could take.

How could the mix of love and time bring so much pain and joy. Why could he not just have the joy, why did the pain have to come with it?

Y/n was standing in their kitchen when it happened. He was hit with a wave of pain so deep he buckled at the feeling. He had just taken another message from Tony's doctor about not putting too much strain on his heart, and he couldn't help the hopeless feeling washing over him.

He could feel time slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to slow it down.

His heart gave a particularly hard thump as his emotions got the better of him.

Y/n felt a searing pain starting in his chest that was physical rather than the almost unbearable emotional pain he had been dealing with. He gasped as tears dripped down his face. He only noticed when a hissing noise came from the ground by his feet, that the tears weren't the normal salty water, but actual lava.

It clicked suddenly, what was happening to him, but Y/n couldn't think through the fugue of his feelings. He had heard of it in stories but never seen it in person. Demons don't normally fall in love, so they aren't affected by things like the deep depression of watching someone you love die when there isn't anything you can do.

The thing is, demon's hearts are literally made of super heated volcanic rock. Demons were never made to deal with such strong emotions, so when a demons heart breaks, it happens literally. Lava erupts from anywhere it can force it's way out, then it starts to break down the rest of the body. As far as the stories are concerned, there might be a way to save them before they have broken down entirely, but no-one had managed it yet.

The stories hadn't prepared Y/n for the pain, but after so long only feeling hopelessness and despair, Y/n welcomed this new pain. Finally, something had come to save him from the eternity that was a future without Tony.

He could feel the lava in the burnt out husk that used to be his heart flare brighter as another wave of heat seared through him. The lava was actually burning away the blood that had been running through his veins.

Y/n had to get out of there. He couldn't do anything about the trails of melted stone that his tears were leaving behind, but he couldn't let Tony see this.

He would be with him again in their next life.

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

Tony was starting to worry. He had been sticking a bit closer to Y/n lately because he had noticed the other man acting strangely. He seemed more and more sad as the days went by. This was something that Tony had needed to keep an eye on. He didn't want to lose Y/n to something that he could help to fix.

He hadn't thought much of it when the other man had rushed out of the room to grab the phone when it rang that morning, but it had been a while since then and Y/n hadn't come back yet.

He heaved himself off of the couch and groaned at the distance.

"God, it's a long way up these days."

He had only taken half a step in the direction his wayward husband had gone when Friday alerted him to a news broadcast of unusual activity on one of the islands off the coast closest to where they were at the moment.

He watched in disbelief as the news caster reported a seeming impossibility. The island was apparently home to a volcano, which was erupting. It was pure luck that it was an uninhabited island, but there would be far reaching results of the eruption.

Tony turned up the volume with a flick of his wrist.

"This is particularly baffling for scientists everywhere as this island has never been on anyone's radar for volcanic activity. Apparently this is just another case of nature getting the better of our understanding of science, which will have our scientists scratching their heads for decades. We have managed to get some footage of the eruption from a distance, and it is a truly harrowing sight."

Tony was transfixed. It really was awe inspiring to see something like that right in front of him. He couldn't help but feel a sinking sensation. There was no way that it was a coincidence that his literal demon husband was missing right as this was happening, right?

"Y/n?"

Tony made his way into the kitchen, calling out for this husband at the same time. He was getting really worried now, but was trying to calm himself. Everything was probably fine.

Tony tripped over something and landed sprawled on the ground. He looked around to find the offending item, but was met with the sight of their kitchen floor melted in a trail that led right out of the room.

Tony followed it with mounting fear. It led out their front door. After that the trail got further apart the further away from the house it got.

Tony swore as he summoned his suit. He hated being right.

---------

Tony was starting to think that fate hated him. Okay, to be fair he couldn't fault fate for sending him Y/n, but the demon could be the biggest drama king. Yes, Tony was aware that that was kind of like the pot calling the kettle black, but that didn't change the fact that it was true.

He was circling the island now, because of course the trail of fire and melted ground had led him there.

Tony let out another string of expletives as he flew close enough to land.

The island looked like what Tony though hell would look like. There were puddles of lava everywhere, and anything that wasn't a melted pile of rock was on fire or long ago burnt to ash. Tony was sweating in his suit, but he also knew that taking it off, even just the head piece, would be a death sentence.

"Y/N!"

He yelled as loud as he could, which, with the suit already amplifying his voice, was pretty loud.

There was movement from something off to his left.

Tony shifted to face it and was confronted with a sight that broke his heart. His sweet husband, always so concerned for Tony, was clearly breaking apart.

He had burn tracks down his cheeks where his skin hadn't been strong enough to withstand the lava. Y/n looked every bit the demon he had been when he first showed Tony what he was. He must have dropped the perception field once again, because Tony could see all of his demonic features. The horns which had once been shiny and sharp enough to gore even super soldiers, were now dull and flaking, just as broken as the man they were attached to.

Tony could see Y/n's chest glowing with the reds and oranges of fresh lava from where he stood.

Tony was frozen. He didn't know what he could do to fix this. But there had to be hope still, Y/n had recognised his voice even if he might not have understood the word.

"Stay there! I'll be right back. We're going to fix this, don't give up on me yet Y/n!"

After some quick thinking, Tony managed to concoct a plan that was only semi-crazy.

He flew as fast as he could in a tight circle just close enough to the ocean to encourage some of the water to form into a whirlwind of water and air. Once he had enough (he hoped), he sent it flying in the direction of his husband and the island.

He stood back and watched, sick fear pooling in his stomach as he saw the water hit. There was intense hissing and a fog filled the air in response to the water coming into contact with such a hot substance.

Tony couldn't wait any longer, so he landed as close as he could get to the place Y/n had been standing.

He found him laying in a puddle of water staring up into the fog. Tony removed the suit's head piece and both gauntlets, discarding them without a second thought.

He reached out to Y/n with shaking hands.

"What were you doing? What happened?"

Y/n turned deadened eyes on Tony.

"Time is a cruel Master who we must all answer to."

Tony had no idea what to do with that, but he really didn't like the look in Y/n's eyes.

"Yeah, but not today. You see that bastard, you kick his ass, you hear me?"

That got a tiny spark of life back into Y/n's eyes.

"Tony? How?"

Tony could have sobbed in relief. Y/n was coming back to him.

"Hey babe, I should be asking you that."

Tony pulled Y/n up into his arms. It was awkward with him still mostly in his suit but he wasn't about to take the time to remove it. He had a husband to bring back from the brink of something he still didn't understand.

"You gonna be alright?"

Y/n just burrowed into the side of Tony's neck.

"You scared the crap outta me, Y/n/n. What was that?"

Tony let Y/n pull back just enough to be able to see him. He wasn't letting the other man out of his arms for a long time after this.

"You can't deny it Tony, time is passing. I just couldn't bear the thought that you will pass so long before I will."

Tony felt his brow crease in confusion, but he waited for his love to continue.

"As a demon I have a much longer life span as you know. When you die I will be all alone. You'll be gone, forever. How am I supposed to live without you now that I know what it's like to live with you?"

Tony felt his heart breaking for Y/n. He could understand where he was coming from, but that still didn't explain this situation. He opened his mouth to question him when Y/n continued.

"Demons don't normally feel emotions as strong as love, and the loss that comes with it. We aren't built for it. Our hearts can overload. When that happens, they literally melt inside us. I'd been told the stories, but to be honest I didn't realise there was any truth in them."

He took a shuddering breath.

"When I realised what was happening, all I could think was that I couldn't take you with me when I died from it. So I left."

Tony let out a long breath.

"Okay, there's a lot to unpack there, but a steaming crater in the middle of nowhere isn't the place to do it. Let's get you home."

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

True to his word, Tony had barely let Y/n go since they got back home. He had whisked him through the kitchen with barely enough time for him to take in the ruined floor before he found himself on the couch wrapped in a blanket with Tony wrapped around that.

"Next time, tell me. Next time something is bothering you like this, let me in. There might be something I can do to help, but even if there isn't, we would still shoulder that problem together. There's nothing I would rather do, than try to help lighten the load."

Y/n vaguely registered the words. They sounded familiar to some distant corner of his mind, but he was still feeling pretty numb.

"Together, or not at all," Y/n echoed his words from that long ago battle.

He was rewarded by a soft squeeze from his husband.

"Exactly. Now, before you get all mopey again, there's a message from someone in New Asgard on the machine."

Y/n's head snapped up. There was no way it could be related to this.

He turned to Tony, feeling hope well up in his heart.

----------

In the years since Valkyrie had become ruler of New Asgard, the kingdom had flourished. Perhaps their greatest feat had been the resurgence of magic in their peoples. Battle prowess had been the sought after trait for centuries on Asgard, but now they were on a planet that wasn't capable of inter-realm travel. There was nowhere to go and fight monsters to prove their worth.

Once they realised that their new ruler was trying to bring them back to their former glory instead of just making sure that they survived, they began to take charge of their own lives. They dusted off old tomes of magic that had somehow found their way into the belongings people had managed to bring with them, and soon the vast majority of them were once again using magic.

The reason this had been their saving grace, was because a young woman, a descendant of Idunn, had been playing around with her magic and followed a strange magical signature.

What she had found had brought the people of New Asgard hope. Hope that they could once again be great. She had found a single golden apple, buried in the wreckage of the Avengers compound. It had been protected by a spell strong enough to save it from the battle of Thanos, as well as the passage of time.

A note had been rolled up and stuffed into the box with it.

"Man of Iron,

The Queen of Asgard has bequeathed the enclosed item to you upon the occasion of her death. You are receiving it now, due only to the petty revenge it is to give such a boon to a human. Be grateful it is more pleasing to me to disobey the All-Father than to seek revenge on you for your part in my imprisonment on Asgard.

Loki, Ruler of Asgard."

The young woman had immediately taken the box, note and all, to Valkyrie. The decision would ultimately be up to her of what to do with it.

Valkyrie had decided that the needs of her people could be served at the same time as fulfilling the late Queens last wishes. It would just take a little longer to get it to Stark.

They had used the seeds to re-grow Idunn's orchard of golden apples. The Aesir would be able to retain their long life after all. Now that they had an entire orchard, they had enough for their people as well as fulfilling Queen Frigga's last wish that Tony Stark be granted the long life of an Aesir.

----------

When Y/n and Tony arrived in New Asgard they were amazed at the transformation the previously small fishing village had gone through. Y/n smiled at the area. It would never be the same as what they had lost, but they had the opportunity to build themselves a new future and they had taken it with both hands.

Y/n stood in the orchard, tears running down his face as he held out a single golden apple to his husband.

Tony had been unsure when Valkyrie had explained about the apples, how they were the source of the Aesir's long life and more sturdy bodies.

He hadn't known how he would feel about living a longer life than all the other people he knew, but as he stood in front of Y/n, looking at the life he was offering him, he realised he would never choose anything else. As long as he had Y/n he could survive anything.

He stepped forward and accepted the apple.

#Tony Stark x male reader #iron man x male reader #male reader #death does not discriminate between the sinners and the saints

[legends-live-in-memories]

Do You Believe in Magic?

AYO second day in a row can you believe it? I come with more content.

Fics Masterlist

Wallynette Oneshot 3.1K words (no warnings apply) Summary: “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

without further ado:

“That’s ridiculous!” He was pacing back and forth, arms waving in the air to compliment his theatrics. “Magic shouldn’t be able to do that, it defies all logic!”

“That’s the point! Magic exists outside of logical reasoning!” The shorter girl was equally as furious, standing in place and growing redder by the minute.

“Nothing exists outside of logical reasoning! Everything can easily be explained with science.” The redhead had paused his pacing to stare down the noirette before him. He was uncaring of his volume, ignorant to how his voice echoed in the large cave. “Your Lucky Charm is nothing more than transdimensional materialisation. An already pre-existing object is broken down into subatomic particles and rearranged at your location.”

“Are you really trying to tell me how my own Lucky Charm works?” She had sounded absolutely livid at the assumption. And Dick had to agree with her. Wally was in no position to tell her how her own powers worked. Before he could interject the screaming match between his two best friends, she was going off again. “And are you really trying to tell me that somewhere in the world existed a red and black-spotted doughnut just waiting to be used? That when Antibug was around a ladybug patterned flamethrower was just lying somewhere?”

“Oh please, there are plenty of flamethrowers all over the world and they probably only appeared ladybug themed due to shifts in light refraction.” He had stopped waving his arms around and crossed them in front of his chest. He was standing in her space now, leering over her trying to be imposing. “Simple fact is magic. Isn’t. Real.”

“You can run faster than the speed of sound! If you really think it was your precious science that saved you after willingly striking yourself with lightning in hopes of tapping into a cross-dimensional ‘speed-force,’ then you’re dumber than I thought.” She had gotten even closer now, pressing a finger into his chest and pushing him back.

“Are they still at this?” Kaldur had walked up beside Dick with two soda cans, silently offering him one. His voice sounded tired, visibly annoyed at the constant bickering.

“An hour and counting,” he sighs. The sounds of their bickering slowly faded into background noise. “For today at least. But they’ve been butting heads ever since she’s joined the team. Kinda exhausting.”

Marinette, a.k.a Ladybug, had joined the team after Wonder Woman deemed Paris officially safe from any more magical mayhem. While the rest of Paris’s heroes chose to retire and preserve the rest of their teen years, Marinette did not have that option. Magical Guardian and all. The JLE welcomed her with open arms and Wonder Woman decided to introduce her to the Team. She got along great with M'gann, the two could almost always be found baking or exchanging recipes in the cave’s kitchen and they, plus Artemis, went on frequent shopping trips. Conner saw her as a little sister, which was unexpected but it probably had to do with the fact she was a whole foot shorter and he had natural instincts to protect those who looked meek. She was anything but meek but first impressions were a damning thing sometimes. Marinette was Kaldur’s biggest supporter, always ready to back him up when it came to tough Team related decisions, something born from her own experience as a leader. The two understood each other the best. She also related to Dick on the importance of secret identities and while the Team still only knows him as Robin, she was the only one who never pestered him on it, respecting the lengths he would go to for the sake of anonymity.

Wally was the only one the newest member clashed with. Magic skeptic, meet magic connoisseur. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. They almost never agreed on anything. Every time the two were left alone for more than two minutes it evolved into a screaming match. Wally was insistent on pushing all of Marinette’s buttons and she was always eager to defend herself and magic as a whole. Her rather short fuse didn’t make matters any better. It hadn’t affected missions, arguments reserved for the safety of the cave, but it was only a matter of time before that became an actual issue. He voiced as much to Kaldur who agreed with only a contemplative nod.

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

It’s moments like these where Kaldur hated when Robin was right. At least he was on another mission with Batman so he didn’t have to bear witness to this fiasco.

The Team was currently in Louisiana investigating the disappearance of Dr. Kent Nelson, better known as Dr. Fate, the Sorcerer Supreme. And Wally was being argumentative with Marinette while simultaneously trying to impress M'gann. It had put Artemis on edge and she kept taking jabs at him whenever an opportunity arose. And even when one didn’t.

They had just barely escaped the pit above lava, standing above the cool platform.

“Don’t worry, Megalicious,” Wally had moved to support M'gann, throwing an arm above her shoulders, drawing her into his side. “I’ve got you.”

“Enough!” Artemis had cut in between the two of them, pushing Wally away from the Martian, her frustration palpable even from where Kaldur was standing. “Your little ‘Impress Megan at all costs’ game nearly got us all barbecued.”

“When did this become my fault?”

“When you lied to that whatever it was and called yourself a true believer.”

“Wally, you don’t believe?” M'gann sounded hurt at that. Wally looked across the room, before coming to a silent conclusion.

“Fine, fine! I lied about believing in magic. But magic is the real lie, a major load.”

“I can’t believe you’re still on that.” Marinette, who had remained silent before, finally entered the conversation, ready to defend her craft. “We just fell over five hundred feet below ground into an almost fiery death and you still don’t believe it? Was the magically appearing Tower not enough? Or the fact that our feet are not being scorched right now?”

Wanting to put an end to this conversation, Kaldur said his piece.

“Wally, I have studied for a year at the Conservatory of Sorcery in Atlantis.” He had crouched down, rubbing the surface of the floor. “The mystic arts created the skin icons that power my water bearers.”

“Dude, have you ever heard of bioelectricity? Hey in primitive cultures fire was once considered magical too. Today it’s all just a bunch of tricks.”

“What I do is not a trick. Do you really think destroying the Eiffel Tower, and putting it back in place is just some trick? Or how about when an old akuma was able to control the weather and created a volcano in the middle of Paris? Were those all tricks too? Were the casualties just results of things that don’t exist?” Marinette was becoming increasingly agitated as her rant went on. M'gann moved to comfort her, embracing her slightly.

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I never said the lives lost weren’t real! It was tragic, yeah, but that was due to real scientific explanations.”

“Science can’t bring people back from the dead.” Her voice was more subdued and sombre and her shoulders were curling into her body. The atmosphere was increasingly getting more depressing so Kaldur grabbed onto the latch, hoping that making progress into the mission would revive the Team’s energy.

He ignored Wally’s protests about heat backdrafts and came face first to a rush of frigid air.    

“Do you ever get tired of being wrong?” Artemis was rather smug as she threw a smirk over her shoulder. Kaldur just wished the rest of the mission wouldn’t be like this.

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

Artemis was going to tear her hair out. Or probably Wally’s. Yeah, she was going to tear Wally’s hair out. It had been a week since the Dr. Fate mission and he still hasn't apologized to Marinette. His refusal to believe in magic was not only screwing up the team dynamics but it was forcing Marinette’s hand, pushing her to dig up trauma, to try and prove to him that magic is real. Artemis didn’t understand why it was so important to her that Wally believed in magic but it was and that was enough for Artemis to stand by her friend.

The two haven’t even spoken to each other since the mission and it was painfully obvious that Marinette was avoiding him. Valid, but still aggravating when it put everyone on the team on edge. Artemis wasn’t one to play peacemaker, leaving that to Kaldur and Marinette, but since this ongoing conflict involved the Parasian, and Kaldur had his hands full with a mission in Atlantis, someone had to step up and that person was her. Wonderful.  

She had tracked Wally in the medical facility, tinkering with some of the equipment and taking inventory of their supplies, a job Red Tornado routinely asks him to do. She skipped any greeting and just started plucking items out of his hands. Ignoring his protests, she kept going until his hands were empty then grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the training room and shoving him into the center ring.

“Shut up and stay,” was all she said, crossing her arms and freezing him with a glare. She wasn’t in the mood for any of his gimmicks tonight. The sound of the zetatubes announcing the Ladybug designation alerted her to Marinette’s return from Paris. Time for the next part of her plan.

“Don’t move,” she said as she turned to retrieve the other person for her plan. A firm ‘I mean it’ was tossed over her shoulder as she left.

Collecting Marinette was easier said than done. Artemis was headstrong on a good day, she will admit, but now as a woman on a mission she was down right intimidating and she knew it. Marinette took one look at her expression and bolted for the zetatube she just stepped out of. Artemis was having none of that and was able to grab the much shorter girl before she could get any further. While Artemis was mentally applauding herself she was also begrudgingly impressed with how difficult it was to hold the girl. Dragging her to the training deck was becoming more trouble than it was probably worth.

Artemis could pinpoint the exact moment Marinette’s eyes landed on the speedster because her efforts doubled and she almost escaped Artemis’s grasp. She dropped her gracelessly on the floor and moved to block the exit before either could do anything.

“Neither of you are leaving until you work out your issues,” she was huffing from exhaustion, both mental and physical. “Whether that means punching the shit out of each other or talking it out like normal people: I don’t care. But no one leaves this room until you two stop screwing with the team dynamics.”

She left no room for arguments and turned to stand outside the exit, giving them some semblance of privacy. If they didn’t work out their issues here, Artemis’s plan B involved Connor tossing them into the far end of the coastline. Hopefully, Wally and Marinette were reasonable enough it wouldn’t have to come to that.

Oh, who was she kidding?

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

Wally stared at Artemis’s retreating figure and then at a very interesting spot on the cave wall. He felt like an asshole all week and, after his experience with the helmet of Fate, he knew he would have to be the one to mend the ever growing gap between him and Marinette. Still, he couldn’t face her yet. Every time he looked at her, or saw her hastily leave any room he was in, his mind flashed to those haunting words she had said.

Science can’t bring people back from the dead.

He knew that. He knew there were harsh limitations on what science can and can’t do. Magic shouldn’t have been any different. And he thought he understood what she had to deal with during her time in Paris but he was wrong. He was so painfully wrong that it took his body being overtaken by a mystic ‘Lord of Order’ for him to really comprehend that. He just… He just couldn’t wrap his head around someone so young being entrusted with so much power. Magic was inexplicable. It defied reason and was unpredictable so he never understood how someone as self-assured as Marinette could put her faith in something that unreliable. So he lashed out at her. Then he did it again. And again so much so that he can’t remember ever having a civil conversation with her.

He messed up and he knew it but the shame he felt in the past week was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Look,” his head snapped to the sound of her voice. She wasn’t looking at him, holding herself for comfort. “I’m sorry for ignoring you, I didn’t realise it was affecting the rest of the team.”

No. no no nonono.

She shouldn’t be apologizing. She had nothing to apologize for and Wally is the ass in this situation not her so why is she apologizing? He needs to fix this. Fast.

“You don’t need to apologize,” such a terrible start, Wallace. Congratulations. “I was the one who pushed your buttons and called magic a big trick.”

She had lifted her head slightly but her gaze still wasn’t focused on him, rather she was looking beyond him just above his shoulder. He took a step closer and when she hadn’t made a break for the exit, he took that as a good sign.

“Listen, Marinette,” her eyes dart to and away from him in an instant. He didn’t let that stop him though. “All those times, times when I called magic fake or belittled its legitimacy, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just trying to wrap my head around its absurdity.”

“It doesn’t matter what you were trying to do,” she finally locked her gaze on him and the pain swimming in her eyes was going to burn him alive. “You still hurt me. You took everything I did, everything I’ve learned and lost and loved and called it a hoax, you called it unreal, and you doubted everything I’ve ever accomplished. I have memories I may never recover from because of magic, scars that will never heal from something you didn’t want to believe in.”

There were unshed tears in her eyes and Wally wanted to brush them away. He didn’t, but fighting the urge was herculean of him. He didn’t get the chance to respond, though, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt her.

“Did you ever realise how those arguments affected me? I used to look up to you, Kid Flash, before joining the team.” He never knew that. Why didn’t he know that? “You were always so cheerful and the media framed you as someone who believed in the impossible. That was something I needed back in Paris. Because there was nothing more impossible to me than ever getting a chance to defeat Hawkmoth.”

She was openly crying now, her cheeks blotchy and eyes red. Wally didn’t know what to say so he took a chance and opened his arms to her. A silent invitation, a quiet apology. Whatever this little spitfire needed from him. He would willingly give it.

She took the offer and crashed her face into his chest, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He wrapped his arms snuggly around her, almost crushing her to his chest.

“I needed someone who believed in the impossible to believe in me.” Her sobs were heartbreaking. Wally could only caress her on the back in a futile attempt to comfort her. “That someone was you but then you had no problem looking me in the eye and saying you don’t believe in magic. How could you?”

“I am so sorry, Marinette.” He could never apologize enough. He was willing to dedicate his life making it up to her. He was silently praying to gods he also didn’t believe in that she would let him try. Before she could say anything, and he felt the hitch in her shoulders as she was taking steadying breaths to do so, he continued.

“I never knew what I—Kid Flash— meant to you. I only argued against magic so much because I didn’t want to believe that something that unpredictable was the only thing keeping someone like you safe. I heard all the stories; Wonder Woman loved to gush and brag about her mother’s successor, but I could never believe that someone could do such incredible things by magic alone. It was mind boggling.”

Wally felt more than heard the faint gasp at his confession. He pulled her off his chest, holding her a short distance by her shoulders, so that he could look into her eyes.

“I’m really sorry; I don’t think I can ever tell you how sorry I am.” She needed to know how genuine he was. He may clown around a lot but he was absolutely serious in this moment. He hoped she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I—,” she cut herself off, and Wally could see her growing frustrated with her own loss of words. She opened her mouth to speak again but she was interrupted.

“OH just kiss already!” Artemis’s rough voice echoed in the room and Wally’s gaze flashed to where her back was facing them by the entrance. She looked uncomfortable standing there but clearly she had an agenda she was seeing through. He didn’t pay her any more attention as he focused back on the increasingly red girl still within his grasps. The hurt that was previously in her eyes was quickly replaced with embarrassment and she couldn’t look Wally in the eyes.

He felt a sudden rush of confidence at her demeanor and hoped he wasn’t about to make the second biggest mistake of his life. He bent his head slightly, casting a smirk at the small girl.

“Well, if that’s what the people want,” he pulled her closer to him then, her mousy ‘eep’ sounding adorable in response. He cupped her chin between two fingers, tilting her head up. “May I?”

She didn’t speak but her answering nod and slow closing of her eyes encouraged him to close the distance between them.

Wally’s been struck by lightning before but it doesn’t compare to the feeling of her lips on his. Her lips tasted like slowly drying tears and her favourite vanilla lip balm. The kiss wasn’t perfect, her lips were slightly chapped, as were his, and their noses bumped into each other, but it was the best kiss of his life.

They broke away from the kiss but neither moved far from each other. They stayed like that for who knows how long. Staring intently at each other, committing the other’s face to memory. And as Wally stared at her tear streaked face and into her slightly red and puffy eyes, he came to a single conclusion.

He definitely believed in magic.

#maribat #mgi trope tussle #enemies to lovers #speed run #wallynette #I am doing such interesting rare pairs for some reason #mlb x dc #ml x dc #tumblr do me a solid #tumblr please stop hiding my posts #no beta this is tussle #mgi event #tumblr wtf pls #AAAAH i completely forgot to mention this was based off a specific piece of canon #yj series season 1 ep 7 btw

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 17: Blackout

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Oh no, you made things complicated. Lol. I'm having more fun writing Kung Lao than should be allowed. Hopefully you guys enjoy! And yes, I know this is tropey but I also don't care LOL, it's a fun trope.

Part 16 Part 18 Chapter Index

The hotel was surprisingly crowded. You weren’t sure what you’d expected but you hadn’t expected it to be bustling with tourists. There was a festival happening, you should have expected this. A bit outdated, the hotel was still clean and inviting. A welcome reprieve from the stone walls of Raiden’s Temple. You’d arrived early and still had to wait in line. Raiden had ‘transported’ you there which had been a wild experience in and of itself. You’d walked into a bolt of lightning and had come out in a quiet alley unseen.

It had been so long since you’d walked amongst the average civilian that it felt straight up bizarre to be walking along the streets of the modest city, especially in your hanfu. It was all you’d had, after all. No one looked at you twice other than to greet you politely. Most of the other folks staying at the hotel for the festival were couples on a romantic getaway which had made it instantly weird to be waiting in line with Kung Lao to check into your respective rooms.

Thankfully, the line moved quickly and once you’d checked in, you dropped off the few belongings you’d brought with you. The room was tiny with a single bed, a desk taking up nearly the rest of the room. Atop the desk was a television and beneath that was an old, ancient mini fridge. It would do well enough. This was the most technology you’d seen in weeks. Afterwards, you’d found Kung Lao and told him that you would meet him in an hour. You’d made note of a clothing store down the road and wanted to see if there was anything worth buying.

He, of course, decided to join you. No one trusted you alone anymore. He didn’t say it like that, but you knew that Raiden had told both him and Liu to keep an eye on you. You felt like a ticking time bomb.

Once at the shop you were disappointed to find that it sold mostly yukatas and kimonos. You supposed it was better than the flowy hanfu. At least you could pick out something that would be your own rather than something that had been handed to you.

Boy, you missed the internet.

You picked out a few pieces that you could work with a bit easier. Most of the hanfu were dresses or long flowy robes. Here you’d been able to find a few women’s kimonos that had hakama pants as an option. You had never been so excited to see pants in your life. You didn’t need the whole kimono, just the pants. Some constricted around the ankles while others were left open. You grabbed both and were extremely pleased.

“Sometimes, you’re a very simple woman.” Kung Lao had patted you on the back when you’d showed him the pants in excitement. You had to agree. In that moment you were very simple. Pants had brought you joy. You’d wandered away from him after that to find a few tops, belts, and jackets. Thankfully, you’d had your wallet on you when this had all begun so you had some money on you. In Raiden’s Temple, money hadn’t been necessary, so you were happy to spend it on the few things you did need.

They weren’t jeans and a t-shirt or even cute dresses, but it felt like a step in the right direction toward feeling like yourself again. You hadn’t realized how much it had bothered you until then.

Kung Lao had purchased just enough for the day in flattering red and black. That seemed to be his aesthetic though you could picture him in blues too for some reason. Then you made your way back to the hotel and to your rooms on the top floor. You had gotten rooms next to each other. You went to get changed and were happy with what you saw even in the half mirror on the desk. You stood on the bed to get a better look. Black hakama pants and a grayish-lavender and black top with a white sash tied around your middle. You then pulled your hair back in a ponytail and admired yourself in the mirror. Even though your hair was a mess you looked much more like yourself.

Your white roots had grown out a couple of inches now. It didn’t look bad, but it definitely didn’t look like it was on purpose either.

Oh well! You jumped off the bed and then left the room to find Kung Lao waiting for you, leaned against the wall next to your door. He had one foot propped against the wall, arms folded across his chest, hat obscuring his face as it often did. The clothing he’d bought wasn’t too terribly different from what he usually wore with the notable exception that he had sleeves which was truly a shame. He tilted his head up just enough to greet you before stepping away from the wall. You hadn’t left him waiting that long and yet he acted as though he’d been there for ages.

You noticed the jade ring from his usual outfit was woven into his outfit with the sash around his waist laced through it. It was kind of sweet that he always seemed to have it on him.

“Is that significant in some way? Special?” You asked, gesturing to the ring. He looked down at the ring in surprise and then nodded down the hall. You walked slowly through the hotel toward the stairwell.

“It’s a relic from my ancestor, the Great Kung Lao.”

“Oh, wow. About that, though… I’ve heard people mention him, but I had never heard the name before you. I know that he’s of some importance which has made you important…”

“I am incredibly important, thank you.”

“Yes, very. Keep talking.”

“He was the first champion of Mortal Kombat who had come from the Shaolin Order of Light. He defeated Shang Tsung and won the tournament.” Kung Lao seemed as though he had told this story a hundred times but was still proud to tell it. It was oddly sweet. “He was champion of Earthrealm for fifty years before the tournament was corrupted and he was killed. Even so, he is held in great reverence. He was a remarkable warrior.”

“Is that why you have a dragon mark?”

“Yes, that is why I have the mark. It’s also why I was sent away so young. I’d already been training long before I’d met you. When I left it was because it was time for me to go live at the temple.”

You stopped walking before the stairs and he stopped just in front of you and turned to face you. “Then why were you so bad when we would pretend to fight?”

“I held back. I wanted you to have fun too. Besides, it felt nice to be normal back then.” He laughed and you caught up to him and started down the stairs. “I was thinking that we should come up with a story as to why we’re here.”

“Should we?”

“Obviously. We need a reason to be here.”

“Other than the reason we actually have?”

“And when a bunch of strangers ask you why we’re here, are you going to tell them the real reason we’re here?”

“Point taken.”

“We need a cover.”

“Do we really though? I don’t remember ever having to justify my actions that intensely to strangers before. We can just be visiting.” You jumped down the last two stairs to the landing between flights. Pants felt great. Kung Lao seemed to either be overthinking your trip or grasping at straws to get to some end point. Or he was going to cause trouble. You would never forget the look that both Raiden and Liu had given him on their way out.

“I’ve been asked three times what brings me to Mount Osore during the festival. I came up with a lie on the spot but I’m no terribly proud of it or anything.”

“And what is this lie you came up with?”

“I said I was here on a date. Everyone else seems to be here on a date, so it was the first thing that jumped to mind.”

You rolled your eyes at him and he laughed in surprise, waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You caught up to him. “Really, Kung Lao?”

“What? It’s the first thing I could think of! The people asking me were on a date and so I stuttered that I was too.”

“Kung Lao, no.”

“Come on, Y/N.”

“Can’t we just say we’re visiting and that it’s no one’s business?” You walked into the lobby and he hurried in front of you and took your hands, clasping them between his. You sighed. “Would you…” The lobby was very crowded.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Would you,” he continued, talking over you, “do me the honor of going on a cute little pretend date with me so that we can sneak into an ancient Buddhist Temple built within the caldera of a volcano so that we can uncover an ancient and possibly cursed artifact together?” You stared at him in disbelief, but it was taking every ounce of your energy not to burst into laughter. He was such a dork. “I will get down on my knees and ask you again if you don’t answer me.” He got down on his knees and you broke. Laughing, you pulled your hands free, grabbed his arms and tugged.

“Oh my god, get up, Kung Lao.”

“It’s a great cover, Y/N.”

“It is an exactly okay cover. But fine. I haven’t done something terribly embarrassing in a while, so I guess I’m overdue for this.” You agreed at least. He was right. It was a good cover considering this whole place was filled with couples. Besides, if it got Kung Lao to drop the subject then you would be happy to agree. The whole display had made your cheeks burn.

“Embarrassing, huh? Come on, Y/N. It’s not such a bad thing, is it? Could be worse looking guys to end up with, right?” He walked at your side again, making a teasing kissy face and leaning close to you. You leaned away with an awkward and nervous laugh.

“If you keep doing things like that then you are going to get smacked.”

“Worth it.” He held the door open for you and together you left the hotel. Outside a bus waited to take tourists to the shrine for the festival. People were already loading onto it. Kung Lao offered you his hand and you looked to him skeptically. He grabbed your hand anyway and then you walked onto the bus. “You’re going to have to get better at pretending.” You found seats near the back of the bus and even as you sat, he didn’t let go of your hand. You felt incredibly silly. Yet, it also made your heart flutter. As much as you had given him a hard time, you also happened to think it was an incredibly sweet and kind of wholesome idea.

Funny enough, you had thought of this moment before but in a much different context. Maybe in a life where your childhood together hadn’t ended so traumatically. Where you’d stayed close friends and he’d have asked you out when you were old enough. In a way, you felt like a silly schoolgirl, something you hadn’t felt in years.

If he hadn’t died then this was exactly where you would have wound up. Somehow that made you feel much less silly and you finally relaxed. Kung Lao pointed out several interesting things on the side of the road through the window and you listened to him chatter on until the bus was pulling up to the shrine. You waited for the others to get off the bus and then you walked ahead of Kung Lao and stepped off it.

The shrine was huge and it took your breath away.

So much so that it made you dizzy.

A river flowed before you then beneath a red bridge. To the left of the bridge there was a white beach lining the bluest and most artificial-looking water that you had ever seen in your life. Rocks were piled alongside the shore in strange formations. Beyond the bridge there was a stone path that led to the shrine in the distance, and it was lined with old lanterns. You walked to the edge of the stone path where the bus had dropped you off to try and get a better look at the water.

That was a teal color you had never seen before in nature. In your mind’s eye, you recalled your vision and it made your stomach drop. You took a step further and were suddenly grasped around the waist and pulled away from the edge of the stone. Then Kung Lao looped his arm in yours. “You looking to take a dip?”

You hadn’t realized that you had almost walked right into the river. You hadn’t been thinking. The water had bewitched you, it seemed. You needed to get a closer look at it but now that you’d been turned away from it, the feeling had gone. From there you could smell the acidity in the humid air. That was likely why it was so blue. “Pay more attention, okay?”

You weren’t sure what to say to him. It was surreal being there. This place was exactly the same as it had been in your vision but also years, possibly centuries had passed since then. The shrine buildings themselves were much larger than they had been then. They were even a different color. Your head was spinning as you tried to take in everything at once. It was an overload. You grabbed Kung Lao’s arm to try and ground yourself. You felt as though you were floating and the wind would take you away.

Kung Lao led you onto the bridge and at its apex you sat and watched the water trickle beneath it. He helped you lean your elbows against the railing and then placed a supportive hand on your back.

“It’s okay. Take a second.” He seemed to realize that you were having a difficult time. How could you explain that you were struggling to wrap your mind around being in a place where you’d had such a vivid and violent vision? You were grateful for him. Your heart was racing and you watched the water flowing beneath the bridge, over the rocks. Your stomach had dropped. It felt as though you were intimately familiar with this place, as though you had spent years there, but you had never once seen it before. At the same time, everything felt completely new. Your brain was waging war with itself. “You okay?”

“Yeah, this is just… surreal.” You were finally able to collect your thoughts enough to talk.

“You went a bit gray. Figured you needed a minute.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So, where do we go?”

“There’s a well inside one of those buildings.” You nodded to your right where the shrine was at the end of the stone path.

“Vague, but okay.” He peered to the right and then pointed. “It’s off limits.” From there you could see a series of ropes that blocked off the building from visitors. “Great.”

“It’s crowded enough here. I’m sure we can sneak in just fine.”

“Of course.” He leaned next to you on his forearms, hands clasped together. “This place is a little spooky.”

“It is. I read a brochure from the hotel lobby. The monks here believe that it’s the gateway to hell. The river beneath us is supposed to represent the Sanzu.” You pointed below you. It was a little spooky, you supposed, but it was also incredibly beautiful.

“I read about that. I also read that there are holy water bathhouses and volcanic cauldrons with crazy colored water.”

“Yeah, and a lake of blood.”

“I hate that, Y/N.” He stuck his tongue out at the idea. You laughed. He was too funny. He had this way of making you feel at least even about the big and often uncomfortable things sometimes. Other times he drove your anxiety through the roof. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those moments. “What do you say that we get to sneaking in and find this thing so that we can have a bit of fun for the rest of the day, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

He took your hand once again and you walked over the bridge and along the stone path. The lanterns were decorated for the festival along with the rest of the shrine. Monks walked about, greeting visitors and answering questions while explaining various attractions. Most visitors, and there were many, were straying from the temple in favor of the white sands or the volcanic cauldrons. You and Kung Lao walked until you reached the ropes before the shrine. You stood there for a time in the shade, waiting for your moment to sneak in unseen.

“Coast is clear,” you whispered and turned to keep watch while Kung Lao snuck into the shrine. Once inside, you waited for your opportunity and followed him. Inside, the building was ancient but to you it seemed oddly brand new. It wasn’t the same shrine that you remembered from your vision. Much had changed since that wicked man had been there.

No one was waiting for you inside the small entryway or in the room beyond. That seemed like the central room, with space for prayer and a dip in the center for dining. The floor was lined with tatami mats and the ceiling was high, windows on the second floor spattering sunlight throughout the room. Halls branched off in each direction and you suddenly felt overwhelmed with choice. It had seemed so much simpler in your vision.

“Lead the way but be cautious. We’re not alone.” Kung Lao spoke in a hushed tone, staying close to you but alert.

“Yeah.” You started through the room and down the closest hallway, checking to see if it was empty first. Kung Lao took your hand and you urged him along with you. Your stomach was in knots and his hand there continued to keep you grounded. Several times you encountered monks going about their business and you had to duck into other rooms or sneak back around corners. You somehow managed to remain unseen, having to huddle together in strange spaces and hide in enclosed areas. It would have been fun had it not been so damn frustrating.

None of it made sense! As you turned down another hall, you sighed in frustration. You’d wound up there twice already. Your gut kept sending you there and back to the central room but there was no indication that it was the same place that the vision had taken place in. Kung Lao suddenly pulled you back into the side room and held you against the wall near the door. There were footsteps in the hall, and you held your breath until they had passed. You made to go back into the hall, but Kung Lao pinned you in place.

“You’re leading us in circles.”

“I know. It’s hard to explain. It’s like someone’s moving everything around while we’re walking. It doesn’t make any sense. I think I’m going one way and then we’re back to where we started.” It was making you sick to your stomach, as a matter of fact.

“You can do this. Just focus.”

“Kung Lao, you have no idea what’s going on in my head right now. I am focusing.”

“You’re right I don’t. So, tell me.”

“I’m not sure that I have the words to explain that the room we’re looking for should be right around the corner but then it isn’t.” It really was disorienting to expect to be in one place and end up in another. “It shouldn’t have been this far back but also this place is ten times bigger than it had been in my vision.”

“I need you to try still.”

You were mixed up. It was like someone was moving rooms in your head and before you knew it, you had once again led him back into the central room which made both you and Kung Lao groan in annoyance.

“Oh good. We’re back. I was worried.”

“It should be right here, but everything looks so different!”

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’ll figure it out.”

“It’s not okay, Kung Lao. It should be right here. I wish I could just show you.” The frustration was radiating off you, you were sure. “I can’t-”

“Is someone there?” A voice from somewhere down the hall called and footsteps approached from a distance.

“Fu…” Kung Lao whispered and then grabbed you and searched for somewhere to hide. The closest hall was too far. You were caught. “Don’t panic.” He urged you to the wall with surprising care and you made a sound of surprise. What did he mean don’t panic? You were instantly panicking. Don’t panic? What was wrong with him? He leaned against you and tilted your chin up and his head toward you like he was going to kiss you, obscuring you both with his hat. “Act natural, Y/N.” His lips brushed against your cheek, just next to your lips. “I swear, you’re terrible at this.” You were stiff as a board, so he had every right to scold you, but also he was pretending to kiss you so what the hell were you supposed to do with that? What was natural in this case?

You gave him a swift but soft punch in the gut and he laughed against your cheek in return. That made you feel a bit better. He lifted his head just enough and you peered toward the door nearby, waiting for the monk that would inevitably kick you out. You could have had time to hide at this rate. Kung Lao’s lips were pressed against your cheek and they were soft even if it was just in a mock kiss close enough to your lips to look like you were sneaking a private moment.

You peered around the corner, thinking maybe you were in the clear. Kung Lao did the same and when you turned back to tell him that maybe the monk had decided to turn away, you found him extremely close to you. Intimately so. His dark eyes were serious and that always scared you for whatever reason. He tilted your chin toward him and all other thoughts slipped out of your brain.

What were you doing there? Where were you anyway? And why? Did it matter?

Not right now it didn’t.

His hand was on your chin, thumb brushing just below your lip, urging your lips to part just enough. You dared not breathe to break the tension of the moment. The sneaking and searching were gone completely from your thoughts. All that was left was the boy that you’d so admired in your youth grown into a handsome man with his hand against the wall at your side, the other inextricably lost below your lower lip.

His eyes were searching you, but you dared not look back into them for fear of what you might find, for fear of what it might reveal to you. His breath warmed your lips before they were on yours, parting them like a blossom in a soft and singular tender movement. A far superior kiss than the one he’d pretended to give you for the sake of saving your skin.

His lips were sweet. Not like sugar or candy, but sweet like the lingering taste of honey at the bottom of a cup of tea. It was a feeling of sweetness rather than a flavor. The moment was still and soft, his lips treasuring yours as though they were something sacred and special. They pulled back just enough from yours that you could feel your lips resisting to part as if they had minds of their own. His eyes were searching you still for answers and in wonder, but you didn’t dare meet them. Yet, you could feel his gaze and beneath your fingertips, that had betrayed you and now rested on his chest, you could feel his heart beating almost as hard as yours.

His breath graced your lips again, but you dared not breathe. You wanted to say something, even just a whisper of his name, but no words would come and you sat there, lips parted in waiting, avoiding his eyes, hand clutching the cloth at his chest, unsure of where you even were or why. This was Kung Lao.

Your Kung Lao.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as they were on yours again, but the softness was gone, though there was something about them that was still sweet even so. The force of his kiss pressed you against the wall, leaving you no escape- not that you wanted to escape. This was a moment that the ten-year-old inside your head had both longed for and not understood. You would have been a fool not to return his kiss, to taste and experience his lips the way that he was with yours and so you did. You kissed him and it was like a storm inside you beyond your control, building with electricity with every moment that passed.

There was a tender moment of acceptance where it felt as though time stood still. The soft moment faded quickly to frenzied desperation. There was no space left between you. Kung Lao was pressed against you, body warm and strong, hat nearly pushed back off of his head as he favored kisses over his possessions. Your hands moved up his chest, to the sides of his neck, fingertips then tangling in the short, messy tendrils of his hair at the base of his hairline. Your heart was doing flips, brain completely turned off to anything that had happened before this, even if somewhere in the distant reaches of your mind you could hear your instincts telling you that you had to stop. Whatever muting effect had been triggered in your brain had seemed to impact Kung Lao as well.

In one swift motion, fluid and strong, his hands were at your thighs and he had lifted you and pressed you against the wall, urging your legs to wrap around him. Your arms slipped naturally around his shoulders, pulling him closer between hot and increasingly sloppy kisses.

“Excuse me?”

Ah, yes. The monk. That was right.

You stopped kissing him.

Kung Lao’s lips finally pulled from yours and you could feel that your own were left slightly swollen from the desperation and passion of those precious few moments. When had you gotten so tangled up in each other? His chest was rising and falling against yours quickly and even though he’d pulled back his lips lingered close to yours as if to consider defying the monk further.

“My apologies.” The monk sounded embarrassed and bowed multiple times. “This area is closed to the public for the festival.”

You finally managed to regain your thoughts and untangled yourself from Kung Lao. You placed your feet on the ground and cleared your throat though your face was likely as red as his robes. He released you from his grip though he made no effort to step away. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat and forced your brain to work.

“Is it?” You sounded surprised and were grateful that you had. You hadn’t expected to be a very good actor after all that, but you had been surprised to be interrupted and also confused as to where your mind had gone. It was more feigning innocence than lying. The monk nodded and looked as though he sincerely felt bad for interrupting you. “I’m sorry. We had no idea.”

“It’s no worries. I will happily escort you back to the festivities. Follow me.”

“Sorry about that.” Kung Lao, who you had never seen at a loss for words, seemed to finally regain himself. Just like that, he was back to the goof he’d been when you’d first arrived. “We were just sneaking off to have a private moment. Didn’t realize it was off limits.”

“It happens all the time. You’d be surprised.” The monk led you back through the central room and into the entryway. You elbowed Kung Lao as you followed the monk and he laughed beneath his breath. Once outside the monk bowed to you and then left you alone. You leaned your head back and stared into the sunny blue sky with a sigh. You needed a new plan. That one had gone off the rails in a way you hadn’t expected.

#kung lao #mk kung lao #kung lao x reader #liu kang x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #kiss #romance #fluff #mortal kombat 2021 #mortal kombat movie #kung lao x you #kung lao/reader #kung lao/you #max huang #ludi lin #angst

[kintatsujo]

LOZ AU- The Courage of Running Away PART THREE

For the record this is already turning out way longer than I’d intended lmao I’d conceived of this as a three to five post AU and it’s going to take most of this week on its own even if I manage a few multi post days.  

(I’m not bothered by this.)

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

So first of all go read the previous post 

So Link crashed into the sea and woke up to this:

[Image description: Panel one: (an unseen speaker) Ooh! Oh!  He just moved, hang on- Panels two and three: The unseen person asks “Hey, Hey! Are you alive?”  Link groans, then opens his eyes groggily. Panel four is filled with the face of the Zora from before.  She is blue with yellow and black highlights like a Blue Tang, and gold eyes. She is wearing a red beaded necklace.  She is grinning with very sharp teeth.  A voice off camera says “Marla, you’re crowding him.”  Marla, her voice encircled with a heart, says “Hi!” Panel Five: Link sits up and screams. Panel Six: Marla has thrown her arms around a Goron with an exasperated and long suffering expression on his face.  She screams in response. End description]

And as I said in the last post, he’s made it as far as Windfish Isle, wayyyy down at the bottom of the AU’s map.

[Image description: A scene of an island with much greenery, some buildings and a small volcano.  End description.]

Windfish Isle is obviously a reference to Koholint Island but here it's a real place; basically if this were a game there'd be an NPC who talked about the island being named for a legend about a god falling asleep here.

And it’s populated entirely and solely by Zora and Gorons, many of whom have never met a Hylian before.

[Image Description: Four different Zora; a male with heavy dark stripes and a long head, a curvaceous blue female modeled after a blue anglerfish, a chubby yellow male with bright blue jewelry, and a Zora of indeterminate gender in purple and yellow.  A legend notes “Windfish Isle Zora take from reef fish” while another note reads “Jewelry usually semiprecious stone.”  End description.]

[Image description: Two gray and dull brown Gorons with floppy hair giving each other a thumbs up.  They’re saying “Bruuuuhhh” in unison.  One is wearing a flower necklace and the other a floral shirt.  The legend reads “Windfish Isle Gorons: Not that different from Hyrulean Gorons tbh”]

(The Windfish Isle Gorons were going to be like, surfer bros and then I realized it really WAS just a more laidback version of usual Gorons lmao; I made them duller and cooler colors because I wanted to emphasize these are like.... Alolan variant aklsjdf)

Of course, having been from a sky commune where the only outsiders he was allowed to see were Rito and Hylians riding loftwings, Link’s never seen a Zora or Goron before, either:

[Image description: A comic, continuing from the comic at the start of the post.  Link, wide eyed, asks, “Who- What are you?”  Marla leans into her Goron companion and says cheerfully, gesturing at herself, “Well, I’m a Marla and he’s a Tonbo!”  The Goron, Tonbo, says “Don’t confuse him, Marla.  I’m a GORON and she’s a ZORA.  And YOU are?”  Blushing, Link answers, “I-I’m LINK.  I’m a HYLIAN.”  In a softer voice either Tonbo or Marla comments, “Ahh, one of the human races, that makes sense.”  Then Link looks down to realize he’s covered only by a blanket, and hugging himself demands, “Wait, did you two STRIP ME?”  Hesitant, Marla says, “Well, we had to dry your clothes SOMEHOW and they seemed to be keeping you too cold.”  And Tonbo interjects, flatly, “Also we were curious.”  Marla blushes and grins, voice bubbly: “Also we were curious!” she echoes. End description]

For the record getting wet clothes off an unconscious person IS usually the correct way to make sure they warm back up, don’t look at me like that.

[Image description: reference images for Marla and Tonbo.  Interspersed are little interaction sketches, such as Marla leaping into Tonbo’s arms away from a snake and Marla standing next to Tonbo to indicate that she’s shorter.  Marla is dark blue with black and yellow marks based on a blue tang, while Tonbo is a dark warm gray with silvery hair on his shoulders and in a mohawk on his head.  Marla wears a red beaded necklace with a shell locket and Tonbo wears blue swim shorts with red hibiscus flowers.  End description.]

So Marla and Tonbo are both a reference to Marin and Tarin AND a reference to Martha the Mermaid and the fact that every time I finished talking to her I’d get swarmed by the beefy oldschool Zora, which put me very much in mind of a bunch of dudes demanding “Is this guy bothering you, queen??”  

The reference to Martha being why Marla has a necklace and the reference to Marin being why Tonbo is wearing hibiscus print shorts, lol.  Marla is based on a blue tang because both Martha and Marin have a lot of blue in their designs.  (Also because I thought it would be pretty.  Which it is.)

I didn’t actually INTEND for Marla to turn out to be such a goofball????  She opened her mouth and just fuckin went???  And Tonbo just settled in right after her, and it just turned out to be an absolutely amazing dynamic.

Marla and Tonbo are basically queerplatonic life partners because that’s how I roll lmao

Aaaand this is a long enough post asklfs see y’all next time

#loz au #loz #Loz au: the courage of running away #au august #my art

[memzhay]

I believe Rhett now has a collection of enchanted items around the castle? And Link keeps stumbling upon them just trying to clean up. He lives in a castle right? He thought it be a good idea to enchant blankie but turned out it wasn't.

Greetings, you magical sweetie!

Hark, ye! There be 1200ish words magically hidden below. Dare ye venture into realms of magic and whimsy featuring @theredquilt? Click below and all shall be revealed.

Drunk Wizard Rhett does indeed live in a castle, though he has been thinking of doing some major renovations. He looked in on a universe recently where there was this delightful little cottage surrounded by flower gardens on the greenest of emerald green hills in the midst of lush farmland. So tranquil! So serene! He was betting Link would absolutely flip out if he came home from grocery shopping and their place was now the cutest most picturesque farm ever.

Conversely, he once saw a movie where someone had a high-tech base of operations inside the caldera of an active volcano. Now that was bad ass! Had panache in spades, but when he thought of the air-conditioning bills, he wasn’t sure it would be worth the hassle. You know home projects. Always so much more involved and expensive than planned, and the logistics of forming an active volcano via magic were… well, ambitious. Ambitious enough that Rhett decided, “You know what’s bad ass? Castles. Castles are bad ass!”

That blanket is actually very interesting. It is the only object in the entire castle that Rhett has no idea where it came from. I mean there are loads of things he doesn’t exactly remember acquiring, things from all kinds of universes, some enchanted some not. But the red quilt is different. It’s not that he doesn’t remember where he picked it up, It has just always been there. Rhett suspects it somehow predates him, but that doesn’t make any kind of sense.

He has considered trying all manner of enchantments on it. However, one must be cautious when bespelling an object that has already been bespelled or has a magic of its own. Especially if you don’t know exactly what that magic is. It’s like putting too many mixers in a Long Island Iced Tea. Next thing you know instead of a tasty beverage engineered to get you sloshed in a hurry, you now have a sloppy frat party accident that tastes like old Halloween candy and regret. He would never do that to his precious blankie!

One afternoon, Link was in the library playing Yahtzee with Tiki and Bav Neva. Well, they started out playing Yahtzee, but now they were really just shaking the dice around in Tiki, turning him upside down on the table, and seeing if Bav Neva could prophesy the results of the roll. She was extremely good at it, of course. One does not become Oracle of the Sacred Grove of Improbability for shits and giggles after all. They rolled again and again, and she never once started shouting about blood and fire. Probably because Tiki kept fawning over her in amazement anytime she guessed the dice correctly.

Rhett came up behind them and quickly bundled Link up in the red quilt, wrapping him up tightly and squeezing him in a ferocious bear hug from behind.

“Empty your mind and tell me what you feel!” Rhett commanded urgently.

Link giggled. “Um startled… Amused… Not gonna lie, a little turned on?” he confessed at the feeling of Rhett’s powerful arms squeezing him from outside his blanket cocoon. “Origins of your blanket bothering you again?”

“It does greatly vex me,” Rhett admitted. “It feels like something from that one universe, you know the one with the great hipster donut place, and that version of me that thinks he is so much more ‘real’ than the rest of us?”

“Oh yeah,” Link agreed. “You’re really funny in that universe.”

“Hmmph,” Rhett harumphed. “He thinks he is,” he muttered under his breath. He released Link and pulled the blanket from his body, slinging it over his shoulder. “In any case, Link, I require your assistance with some most urgent magical business.”

“Of course,” Link readily agreed. “Anything to help.”

“Excellent,” Rhett said pleased. “I have devised a series of magical trials so that we can determine once and for all what is so magical about my favorite blanket.”

“Well, that is certainly some urgent magical business,” Link said with a chuckle.

“Firstly,” Rhett carried on, “We will drape the blanket over the backs of some chairs from the dining hall and crawl underneath it, turning it into a secret magical fort. If the blanket thinks of us as secret confidants, it may reveal it’s mysteries unto us.”

“Next, should that prove unfruitful,” Rhett continued ambling over to the cauldron of enchanted ale, drawing a fresh goblet, and giving it a meditative slurp, “We shall take the blanket out onto the grounds of the castle, lay it upon the earth, and have a picnic on it. Perhaps the combination of the elements, the earth, the air, the sunshine, the merriment of revelry upon it, shall make it let it’s guard down enough that we might discover it’s secrets.”

“Finally, should it become absolutely necessary, we will lay it down flat upon the bed. We will both lay at the foot of the bed and roll ourselves up in the blanket. Rolling over and over each other in a maneuver that shall from now on be known as ‘wizard sushi’. I’ve given it a great deal of thought, and I firmly believe we should be naked for this stage of the trials,” he said seriously. “Except for my velvet slippers because I don’t like my feet to be cold,” he quickly amended.

“It only makes sense,” Link answered seductively. These magical trials were starting to sound like a lovely way to spend an afternoon.

“If the blanket does not become adequately disoriented by the repeated rolling about and reveal itself to us, we might have no choice but to have sexy times while so encased within it. It’s a bit of a Hail Mary at that point, but could work,” Rhett concluded.

“Worth a shot,” Link agreed. “It’s important to be thorough.”

“Then grab some pillows and let us away to the dining hall,” Rhett proclaimed, exiting the library with the red quilt draped majestically over his shoulder.

“Hey Link,” Tiki called. “Before you head off on your magical blanket mission, could you maybe put me and Bav Neva on that shelf in your room next to the window so we can watch the waves for a while? Maybe put down some of those nice cloth napkins so Bavs doesn’t get chilly?”

If it were possible for a prophesying skull chalice to smile demurely, she was managing it very nicely.

“Sure thing, Tiki,” Link agreed with a wink. Not dreaming of standing in the way of some drinkware romance.

#drunk wizard rhett #rhink fic #rhink #ask memzhay

[vivithefolle]

Is there anyway you could share the entire livejournal essay about Hermione's reaction to Ron coming back in DH? The few paragraphs that you referred to in your recent answer sound extremely interesting.

[The “recent answer” that goes back to... last December. Oh my god I’m such an ass I left you hanging for so long I’m so sorry.]

Okay, okay, so here goes! KEEP IN MIND: I DIDN’T WRITE THIS. I FOUND THIS ON LIVEJOURNAL AND PICKED EVERYTHING THAT I LIKED ABOUT IT, AS WELL AS SOME COMMENTS THAT INTERESTED ME.

This “essay” was actually more of a “reading the books” thing with the person sharing their thoughts and ideas about it. The person was clearly a Snape fan, but they had sympathy for Ron too. I’ll try to formate it as accurately as I can remember it.

And now, here it is:

---

ORDER OF THE PHOENIX

[About Ron being made a prefect.] The essayist: It’s sad, but this probably is the first time Ron’s beaten Harry at something. And the last time.

A commenter: Ron's had a really difficult life, and this is the book that proved it for me. It made me a Ron fan. Just look at the interactions he has with Fred and George. This is commonplace. I know a lot of people don't like Ron, but just look at this book, this chapter especially. People have accused Ron of being lazy, unambitious, having no emotions, and being a big stupid boy. It's just not true. Look at how Fred and George needle him out of jealousy. Look at how they treat Percy. Imagine Ron having to grow up with two older brothers that will not hesitate to bother, torture and torment people that stand out or that get more attention than they do or that cross them. He saw it happening with Percy, so what's he going to learn? He'll learn to shut up unless he wants to have something happen to him. He'll learn that standing out positively is rewarded with cruelty. I can understand how Mrs. Weasley could not have fully protected him from those two. Not all the time, not while trying to also care for Ginny, keeping up with her other kids in school, and running the household. Worst of all, punishing F&G doesn't seem to do anything. Those two just don't care/they crave the attention, negative or positive. The best thing she could've done would be to give them no attention, but that's so against her nature that unfortunately she just fed the monsters. No emotions? Is it really difficult to understand that sensitivity wouldn't be encouraged in young Ron? He's got these two bullies that only want a reaction out of him. If he cries, it'll only encourage them. Any reaction is encouraging to them, but he has to go with anger. It's a survival thing- puff yourself up, make yourself look bigger than you are so the predator messes with you a little less. Look at the pride Ron's showing in his badge. The desire to do well is there. He likes the good feeling that comes with it, but he's been hard-wired since birth that it's better to be "middle of the pack". In later chapters, I know you'll have to point out the way the power makes Ron behave, so I just want to start on the defence now. It's all Ron knows. It's all he's been taught. It's a huge character flaw, but it's what makes him so human. Rowling did develop this in the book, but only accidentally. We're never going to get a good look at Ron's psychology except through these hints because it's, as usual, All About Harry. Ron's flawed, but I hope we remember that he has a reason why he's got those flaws. It doesn't excuse him, but it really explains him. So yeah... that's why I defend Ron.

...

“I’m not Percy,’ he finished defiantly.”

The essayist: Mmmm-hm. Ron feels nervous at the thought of his good fortune inspiring anger in someone and what's his first defence? "I'm not Percy"? Man, the evidence that the Twins' psychological torment has left lasting scars on Ron could not have been more obvious if he'd shielded himself and said "Please don't jinx me, Fred! ... I mean Harry. ... Shit, what'd I say?"

...

“Excellent,”  said  Ron,  with  a  kind  of  groan  of  longing,  and  he  seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick. “What  were  you  saying  before  the  Sorting?”  Hermione  asked  the  ghost. “About the hat giving warnings?” “Oh  yes,”  said  Nick,  who  seemed  glad  of  a  reason  to  turn  away  from  Ron,  who  was  now  eating  roast  potatoes  with  almost  indecent  enthusiasm.

The essayist: Ron’s not being very restrained with his eating, is he?

The commenter: I don't know if it's accidental or not, but this is one of those moments that I love, one of the tellings of Ron's home life via his behavior. In this scenario, he's totally a kitten who just got adopted to a house where he's the only cat. He's at a table with food, so his instinct is to eat as fast as he can or his siblings will yoink it. It doesn't help that there are many other people around, encouraging the "get the good stuff fast or you'll have to sate yourself on bread or whatever nobody wants". Ron is so much more human than Harry! How can Harry not be showing any signs of his "horrendous abuse" for eleven years? Well... I guess he sort of does when he buys all that stuff in his first year. And I guess Ron has to go back home every summer where it gets reinforced. But Harry goes back every summer, too... what the hell?

...

“What’s going on?” Ron  had  appeared  in  the  doorway.  His  wide  eyes  traveled  from  Harry,  who  was  kneeling  on  his  bed  with  his  wand  pointing  at  Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised. “He’s having a go at my mother!” Seamus yelled. “What?” said Ron. “Harry wouldn’t do that — we met your mother, we liked her. . .” “That’s  before  she  started  believing  every  word  the  stinking  Daily  Prophet writes about me!” said Harry at the top of his voice. “Oh,”  said  Ron,  comprehension  dawning  across  his  freckled  face.  “Oh . . . right.” “You know what?” said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look.  “He’s  right,  I  don’t  want  to  share  a  dormitory  with  him  anymore, he’s a madman.” “That’s out of order, Seamus,” said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red, always a danger sign. “Out of order, am I?” shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron ‘was  turning  paler.  “You  believe  all  the  rubbish  he’s  come  out  with  about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he’s telling the truth?” “Yeah, I do!” said Ron angrily. “Then you’re mad too,” said Seamus in disgust. “Yeah?  Well  unfortunately  for  you,  pal,  I’m  also  a  prefect!”  said  Ron,  jabbing  himself  in  the  chest  with  a  finger.  “So  unless  you  want  detention, watch your mouth!”

The essayist: Note how Ron’s first reaction is to side with Harry.

The commenter: Not surprising because of the best friends thing (some might argue) but I say it's not surprising considering how Hermione and Ron were treating Harry like a ticking time bomb. Survival!

...

“Hello, Harry!” It was Cho Chang and what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual: Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls; Harry remembered the agony of trying to get her by herself to ask her to the Yule Ball. “Hi,” said Harry, feeling his face grow hot. At least you’re not covered  in Stinksap this time, he told himself. Cho seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “You got that stuff off, then?” “Yeah,”  said  Harry,  trying  to  grin  as  though  the  memory  of  their  last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. “So did you . . . er . . . have a good summer?” The moment he had said this he wished he hadn’t: Cedric had been Cho’s boyfriend and the memory of his death must have affected her holiday  almost  as  badly  as  it  had  affected  Harry’s.  .  . Something  seemed  to  tauten  in  her  face,  but  she  said,  “Oh,  it  was  all  right,  you  know. . .” “Is  that  a  Tornados  badge?”  Ron  demanded  suddenly,  pointing  at  the front of Cho’s robes, to which a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold T was pinned. “You don’t support them, do you?” “Yeah, I do,” said Cho. “Have  you  always  supported  them,  or  just  since  they  started  winning the league?” said Ron, in what Harry considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice. “I’ve supported them since I was six,” said Cho coolly. “Anyway . . . see you, Harry.” She  walked  away.  Hermione  waited  until  Cho  was  halfway  across  the courtyard before rounding on Ron. “You are so tactless!”

The essayist: So Harry meets Cho, makes a complete faux pas and reminds her of her dead boyfriend. Ron quickly steers the conversation away onto something more happy, i.e., Quidditch, before Cho can get too upset. Nevertheless, Ron is apparently the insensitive jerk around here, not Harry.

[If this reminds you of something, then yes, I absolutely took what the essayist was saying and elaborated on it. I confess, I am a dirty thief.]

...

“Well, I suppose he could’ve played better,” Harry muttered, “but it was only the first training session, like you said. . .” Neither Harry nor Ron seemed to make much headway with their homework  that  night.  Harry  knew  Ron  was  too  preoccupied  with  how  badly  he  had  performed  at  Quidditch  practice  and  he  himself  was having difficulty in getting the chant of “Gryffindor are losers” out of his head. [...] And so they worked on while the sky outside the windows became steadily darker; slowly, the crowd in the common room began to thin again.   At   half-past   eleven,   Hermione   wandered   over   to   them,   yawning. “Nearly done?” “No,” said Ron shortly. “Jupiter’s  biggest  moon  is  Ganymede,  not  Callisto,”  she  said,  pointing over Ron’s shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, “and it’s Io that’s got the volcanos.” “Thanks,” snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences.

The essayist: So Ron’s getting basic facts wrong in his essays.

The commenter: This is going to look so contrived, but I genuinely believe it, and maybe after these reviews, your standards for contrived have dropped enough for me to pass the bar :3 But... he's not putting in any effort. His ego can't take another beating at the moment (even punching bags have limits). Imagine it- after the Quidditch humiliation with his friend the Star Athlete (when he really was trying) he tries to distract himself by doing school work 1. which he isn't very good at anyway, 2. with the Star Athlete of Academics/Slytherin Spectator Crowd best friend Hermione there 3. with Hermione there to set it right anyway (it sounds as if Hermione isn’t so much correcting their essays as writing them herself). If he tries his best at this and then fails at that, Ron probably would start to consider suicide. It's self-preservation at this point to put in zero effort. This kind of fail is literally "I'm not trying because I have given up."

...

She  wrenched  her  bag  open;  Harry  thought  she  was  about  to  put  her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects,  placed  them  carefully  on  a  table  by  the  fireplace,  covered  them  with  a  few  screwed-up  bits  of  parchment  and  a  broken  quill,  and  stood back to admire the effect. “What  in  the  name  of  Merlin  are  you  doing?”  said  Ron,  watching  her as though fearful for her sanity. “They’re  hats  for  house-elves,”  she  said  briskly,  now  stuffing  her  books  back  into  her  bag.  “I  did  them  over  the  summer.  I’m  a  really  slow  knitter  without  magic,  but  now  I’m  back  at  school  I  should  be  able to make lots more.” “You’re leaving out hats for the house-elves?” said Ron slowly. “And you’re covering them up with rubbish first?” “Yes,” said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag onto her back. “That’s not on,” said Ron angrily. “You’re trying to trick them into picking  up  the  hats.  You’re  setting  them  free  when  they  might  not  want to be free.” “Of  course  they  want  to  be  free!”  said  Hermione  at  once,  though  her face was turning pink. “Don’t you dare touch those hats, Ron!” She left. Ron waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls’ dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats. They  should  at  least  see  what  they’re  picking  up,”  he  said  firmly.  “Anyway  .  .  .”  He  rolled  up  the  parchment  on  which  he  had  written  the title of Snape’s essay. “There’s no point trying to finish this now, I can’t  do  it  without  Hermione,  I  haven’t  got  a  clue  what  you’re  supposed to do with moonstones, have you?”

The essayist: This doesn’t seem like a particularly open-minded and enquiring position to take, although I suppose that Hermione’s open-mindedness has always been something of an informed attribute.

The commenter: This trope among fans has got me riled up beyond belief because they use the "Hermione's word is gospel" thing to make unfair assumptions about other characters: Ron's "emotional range of a teaspoon" thing comes to mind, and right after that, Lavender supposedly being silly about believing Trelawney about her dead pet (Hermione never considered that maybe the thing Lavender was dreading was bad news from home or bad news about her pet). Regarding house elves: This is one case where the fans ought to have seen that Hermione was being very thoughtless as far as strategy. Ron has lived all his life up until this point thinking that there was no problem with house elves and she literally expects to be able to just tell him "it's wrong" and he's supposed to change instantly? Talk about your cultural insensitivity. In this case, maybe Ron knows better than you do, Hermione? You didn't even know about house elves until you were at least twelve (but more likely, she didn't know until this year). She must understand the concept of "he doesn't know it's wrong". That was how she defended Crookshanks when he was chasing Scabbers. ... Hey, Hermione thinks Ron's smarter than her cat. That's something, I guess.

...

The commenter: Competition is seriously the worst thing in the world for Ron. He's got wa-a-ay too much baggage. Do well so they'll love you. Do well so they'll notice you. If they notice you, you'll get praised. And tormented by Fred and George. Then if you fuck up, you'll have let everyone down. My brothers never let anyone down. That's the standard. Oh God, I can't live up to that. Which do I want to chose- being ignored or scorned? I could do well. Then I'll be good enough to be called "just like them"! JFC, when's it ever going to be "Good like Ron"? Chess. Literally everyone else has one thing they shine in, even Neville with his Botany and Dean with his art (and... and I'm going to ignore the fact that Hermione and Luna are the only two I can think of with non-appearance based special stuff... someone please help me out? I guess Tonks' doesn't really count as a shallow one because it makes her a master of disguise...)

...

HALF-BLOOD PRINCE

...

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry.

The essayist: “Hermione spared [Ron] one look of disdain before turning back to Harry” pretty much sums up her relationships within the trio. It’s no wonder Ron’s so insecure and keeps worrying that she really fancies Harry.

...

“And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway...”  “You  can  still  see  where  those  brains  got  hold  of  me  in  the  Ministry,  look,”  said  Ron,  shaking  back his sleeves.  “And  it  doesn’t  hurt  that  you’ve  grown  about  a  foot  over  the  summer  either,”  Hermione  finished, ignoring Ron.  “I’m tall,” said Ron inconsequentially.

The essayist: Ron’s so adorably pathetic here, the way he’s obviously feeling inferior to Harry and being ignored by his so-called friends. *hugs Ron*

...

When they left the Gryffindor table five minutes later to head down to the Quidditch pitch, they passed  Lavender  Brown  and  Parvati  Patil.  Remembering  what  Hermione  had  said  about  the  Patil  twins’  parents  wanting  them  to  leave  Hogwarts,  Harry  was  unsurprised  to  see  that  the  two  best  friends were whispering together, looking distressed. What did surprise him was that when Ron drew level with them, Parvati suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked around and gave Ron a wide smile. Ron blinked at her, then returned the smile uncertainly. His walk instantly became something more like a strut. Harry resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that Ron had refrained from doing so  after  Malfoy  had  broken  Harry’s  nose;  Hermione,  however,  looked  cold  and  distant  all  the  way  down  to  the  stadium  through  the  cool,  misty  drizzle,  and  departed  to  find  a  place  in  the  stands  without wishing Ron good luck. 

The essayist: Hermione keeps belittling Ron and doing him down, and reacts quite strongly when he even so much hints at losing interest in her and showing attention to another woman. Can we say “abusive relationship”, anybody?

...

“Harry! Ginny!” Hermione was hurrying toward them, very pink-faced and wearing a cloak, hat, and gloves. “I got back a couple of hours ago, I've just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck--I mean Witherwings,” she said breathlessly. “Did you have a good Christmas?” “Yeah,” said Ron at once, “pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim—” “I've got something for you, Harry,” said Hermione, neither looking at Ron nor giving any sign that she had heard him. “Oh, hang on--password. Abstinence.”

The essayist: Wow, Hermione’s just being so childish here, ignoring Ron when he’s talking directly to her. Incidentally, Ron’s speaking to her like a normal friend, it’s Hermione who’s doing the blanking. Still, I’m sure this argument is all Ron’s fault for daring to go out with another girl. Hermione is totally blameless.

[Just in case: the essayist is being sarcastic, they’re pointing out the double standard of the HP fandom blaming Hermione’s immature behaviour on Ron.]

...

DEATHLY HALLOWS

...

“I think you’re right,” she told him. “It’s just a morality tale, it’s obvious which gift is best, which one you’d choose—” The three of them spoke at the same time; Hermione said, “the Cloak,” Ron said, “the wand,” and Harry said, “the stone.” They looked at each other, half surprised, half amused. “You’re supposed to say the Cloak,” Ron told Hermione, “but you wouldn’t need to be invisible if you had the wand. An unbeatable wand, Hermione, come on!” “We’ve already got an Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry. “And it’s helped us rather a lot, in case you hadn’t noticed!” said Hermione. “Whereas the wand would be bound to attract trouble—” “Only if you shouted about it,” argued Ron. “Only if you were prat enough to go dancing around, waving it over your head, and singing, ‘I’ve got an unbeatable wand, come and have a go if you think you’re good enough.’ As long as you kept your trap shut—” “Yes, but could you keep your trap shut?” said Hermione, looking skeptical. “You know, the only true thing he said to us was that there have been stories about extra-powerful wands for hundreds of years.” “There have?” asked Harry. Hermione looked exasperated: the expression was so endearingly familiar that Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

The commenter (?): Actually, I thought that Ron was proving the errors in the story. Because he’s right. The eldest brother didn’t die because the Elder Wand had corrupted him (like the One Ring). He died because he was an idiot. He died because he randomly decided to start blabbing about his new toy.

“You talk about wands like they’ve got feelings,” said Harry, “like they canthink for themselves.” “The wand chooses the wizard,” said Ollivander. “That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore.” “A person can still use a wand that hasn’t chosen them, though?” asked Harry. “Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.”

The essayist: Harry’s wand has to think for and protect him because he’s too stupid and incompetent to think for and protect himself! Ollivander’s the expert, and he just admitted it. He said any halfway decent wizard can perform magic with almost any wand. The reason Harry could only work with the holly wand is because of the phoenix feather core it shares with Voldemort’s wand. That is, it wasn’t Harry doing the magic with Harry’s wand! It was the Voldemort soul piece! Once Harry was forced to use wands that didn’t have that core, the soul piece couldn’t do the work for Harry any more. He was forced to rely on his own magical powers and competence, which are clearly minimal. This is proven by his inability to do effective magic with any other wand. It’s also proven by an incident from Philosopher’s Stone. Remember when Harry was being chased by bullies and inexplicably found himself on top of the shed roof? That was the soul piece allowing him to fly like Voldy. Lily could slow her descent from a height, as if she had an invisible parachute, but that is not the same as flying, and we have no evidence she could fly. Only Voldemort and Snape fly without assistance! The evidence is overwhelming that I am right. How many spells can Harry do effectively? Expelliarmus, Expecto Patronum, Protego--that’s it. Even as a young adult, he is incapable of doing the basic healing or cleaning spells a young child should have down pat before going to Hogwarts. Of course, we’re told the Patronus spell is difficult and advanced, but who told us that? Remus Lupin, friend of Harry’s father, sycophant, and notorious liar, particularly when it comes to flattering Harry. Recall Lupin also said Snape didn’t like James because Snape was envious of Potter Sr.’s Quidditch prowess, and we know that was a lie. Given this evidence, anything Lupin says that cannot be confirmed by an independent source, especially regarding the Potters, should be dismissed out of hand. True, Hermione has trouble with the Patronus spell, and she’s super-competent. Doesn’t that prove it’s a very difficult spell? Not at all. To take an example from a different field, Beethoven was a virtuoso organist, the greatest pianist of his day, one of the greatest pianists in history, and probably the greatest improvisational musician ever. But he was only a decent violinist. Everybody has areas of weakness, no matter how good they are overall. In addition, Hermione is very gullible where authority figures are concerned. If a teacher tells her, “The Patronus is a very difficult, advanced spell that many people can’t ever master,” she’ll believe that, which may create a self-fulfilling prophecy. A couple of years ago, another DTCL member and I facetiously suggested Harry was less intelligent than his wand. We didn’t know we were right. It rarely happens, but this is an occasion when I would have preferred to be wrong.

...

If only there was a way of getting a better wand... And desire for the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, unbeatable, invincible, swal-lowed him once more... They packed up the tent next morning and moved on through a dreary shower of rain. The downpour pursued them to the coast, where they pitched the tent that night, and persisted through the whole week, through sodden landscapes that Harry found bleak and depressing. He could think only of the Deathly Hallows. It was as though a flame had been lit inside him that nothing, not Hermione’s flat disbelief nor Ron’s persistent doubts, could extinguish. And yet the fiercer the longing for the Hallows burned inside him, the less joyful it made him. He blamed Ron and Hermione: Their determined indifference was as bad as the relentless rain for dampening his spirits, but neither could erode his certainty, which remained absolute. Harry’s belief in and longing for the Hallows consumed him so much that he felt isolated from the other two and their obsession with the Horcruxes. [...] As the weeks crept on, Harry could not help but notice, even through his new self-absorption, that Ron seemed to be taking charge. Perhaps because he was determined to make up for having walked out on them, perhaps because Harry’s descent into listlessness galvanized his dormant leadership qualities, Ron was the one now encouraging and exhorting the other two into action. [...] But not until March did luck favor Ron at last.

The essayist: MARCH! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. The first fifteen pages of this chapter cover three months, and during that entire time, Harry Potter does nothing, nothing, but sit on his ass fantasizing about the Elder Wand and trying to connect with his Voldie-soul mate. Oh, wait. He also tries to open the snitch so he can get the stone out of it. (Nothing gay about that, either.) I wish he’d succeed in that, too. Maybe he’d swallow the stone, and it would end up in his scrotum. He sure needs something that works down there. Harry doesn’t have the right to bail out on his society like this. He can’t have it both ways. He can’t have the adulation that goes with being Mr. Boy-Who-Lived-Chosen-One-Wizarding-World-Savior and abdicate the responsibilities that go along with those titles and that adulation. Look at what happens in this chapter: Harry becomes obsessed with finding and uniting the Hallows, so much so that he withdraws from his friends, bails out on the job his idol Dumbledore gave him, and spends all his time brooding and trying to connect with the Dull Lord. In other words, he acts clinically depressed. Ron and Hermione were exposed to the same information Harry was, but they didn’t become obsessed/depressed. Ron was mildly interested in the Super-Wand, but not enough to distract him from the Horcrux hunt. Hermione dismissed the whole DH story as nonsense and continued following Dumbestbore’s orders. So why weren’t they tempted?

...

The essayist: Harry opens the locket using Parseltongue--interesting that this never occurred to him before now--and two ghostly figures emerge. They’re Voldie-versions of Harry and Hermione, and they articulate Ron’s worst fears: “Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter...Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend...Second best, always, eternally overshadowed...” I’ll say it again: When you’re right, you’re right. The evidence is overwhelming that Molly Weasley treated Ron the worst of all her children. And if Rowling doesn’t want us to ship HP/HG, she needs to quit throwing them together and making them leaders, with Ron either in the background or absent entirely. JKR obviously wants us to automatically dismiss certain statements just because they’re made by “bad guys” such as Voldemort and Rita Skeeter. There are two problems with this: (1) The “lies” make perfect sense, far more sense than what we’re supposed to believe. (2) Even pathological liars sometimes tell the truth, typically when it won’t hurt their own interests to do so. For those of us who live in what cartoonist Garry Trudeau calls “the reality-based community,” the evidence is what matters, not what we’re told by authority figures. Those of us in the higher stages of spiritual development are funny that way.

...

The essayist: Well, whose fault is that, Ms. Rowling? You’re the one who’s spent the last four books making Ron dumber and dumber, depriving him of any meaningful activity, while you shoved Harry and Hermione into increasingly dominant roles.

The commenter: Are we supposed to look down on Ron now so that we can condemn him for leaving Harry and Hermione? Because if so, then that’s just unfair. Every time Ron tries to come up with an idea, Hermione criticizes him or shoots him down. And the twins have done a fine job of intimidating Ron into remaining mediocre and modest so that he doesn’t remind them of Percy, so what is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to come up with ideas when he’s surrounded by people who basically tell him to shut up and sit down?

The essayist: Just then, Hermione comes out of the tent with cups of tea, with tears running down her face and looking terrified her “friend” is going to curse her with her own wand.

The commenter: So, Hermione will snarl at Ron all day long, but cower in fear when Harry gets mad. Is she projecting herself onto Harry and assuming that just because *she’s* quick to hex people who anger her (Ron, Marietta, etc.), Harry will do the same to her?

The essayist: The evidence is overwhelming that Molly Weasley treated Ron the worst of all her children.

The commenter: And blatantly showed favoritism to Harry while snarling at Ron in the same breath. Of course, Horcrux!Tom doesn’t bring that up, because JKR would have to admit that there might be something wrong with Molly favoring Harry the way she does. The essayist: Hermione acts so crazy Harry has to put a protection charm between her and Ron.

The commenter: Yeah…sorry, it’s not “slapstick” anymore when somebody actually has to stop her from hitting Ron. When Harry feels that the situation is dangerous enough that his intervention is necessary. That’s not funny. That’s a true-crime episode. What gets me is that Hermione's tantrum lasts for days. It goes on for several pages into the next chapter. She doesn't start acting normal again until she comes up with the idea of visiting Xeno Lovegood. The essayist: Hermione tells Ron she still hasn’t ruled out attacking him with birds again.

The commenter: *flatly* So, all of the fans who cooed about how “great” it was for Hermione to show “girl power” by sending Ron to the hospital wing in HBP or breezily dismissed the scene as just tired teenage melodrama? Can put a sock in it. Hermione has clearly learned nothing, JKR clearly feels that that scene was funny, and at no point are we supposed to think that Hermione is an abuser. Even though, if the genders were reversed, fans would be calling for Ron’s head on a platter if he dared lay a finger on Hermione. No. This isn’t funny. This isn’t charming. Hermione hurt Ron so badly in HBP that he had to go to the hospital wing. And she tried to repeat the damage she caused here. Is she going to attack him with birds again after they get married? Is she going to do it in front of their children? Will it be “cute” and “funny” then? No, if a man is an abusive monster for losing his temper and trying to hurt his girlfriend, then Hermione is an abusive monster for losing her temper and trying to hurt her boyfriend. Not only did Hermione land Ron in the infirmary with the first attack, but she wants to do it again at a time when they are on the run. She will NOT be able to take an injured Ron to Hogwarts infirmary, nor to St. Mungos. In other words - she intends for him to remain injured and stick with them while camping, or else he must apparate away while injured, risking another splinching so he could be healed.

...

The essayist: Ron and Harry go back to the tent, and Harry fades into the background so as not to interfere with the lovers’ reunion. That’s a mistake. After Harry wakes Hermione, she shows her delight at Ron’s return by--attacking him? She punches him over a dozen times while yelling at him and screaming for her wand from Harry. Remember last chapter, when I talked about how immature Hermione is? Here’s your proof.

[The essayist quotes an article that I haven’t been able to find, but paraphrased: it speaks of a father who came to pick up his 4 y/o daughter from daycare, a little later than usual, and the daughter reacted by punching and hitting her father, upset at his being late. Additional read:  “The parents must know that physical aggression is a common yet natural problem faced by toddlers.”]

The essayist: So there you have it: Hermione Granger, know-it-all supergirl, is so immature she acts like a preschool child when the boyfriend she’s been missing finally returns. I’m not suggesting she has a father-daughter relationship with Ron; this kind of anger is found in other relationships, too. What I am saying is that her way of expressing her anger is appropriate for a very young child. While adults may certainly feel this kind of anger and desire to hit when reunited with a loved one under similar circumstances, they don’t act it out. That restraint is what separates adults from children. Hermione acts so crazy Harry has to put a protection charm between her and Ron. I frankly found her behavior so out of control as to suggest mental instability. She engages in two full pages of histrionics before throwing herself into a chair, sitting so tensely I’m surprised the circulation isn’t cut off to her arms and legs. She remains in a bratty snit until the end of the chapter, which is another six pages.  Hermione is still pouting the next morning. I’m wondering if her real problem is not that Ron left, but that she didn’t. Is she angry at him because he had the guts to admit they were blowing it and take a time out, while she just kept trailing along after Harry like a lost house elf? I think she’s definitely mad because she’s always controlled Ron and their relationship. How dare he assert his independence of her! Who does he think he is? Her equal? In an AU, maybe. This is called the Potterverse after all, not the Ronverse.  Hermione’s having a bad month. First Ron runs out on them; then she saves Harry’s life, but he’s an ungrateful jerk about it; then Harry asserts his independence; then Ron comes back but doesn’t grovel sufficiently for her taste. All this mistreatment is going to give her the idea she’s just a normal character and not an Author’s Darling.   While Ron was gone, he was captured by bad guys called Snatchers, who are bounty hunters for Voldemort. In getting away, he got a spare wand, which he gives to Harry. Of course, it doesn’t work as well as Harry’s “real” wand, so Harry’s still in a snit about that, and with Hermione in a snit, too, they’re a cheerful bunch. Honestly, I don’t know why Ron puts up with these two. The Hs are so spoiled and self-centered, they deserve each other, but I don’t think this is what HP/HG shippers mean when they proclaim the two as an OTP. Sane, normal Ron doesn’t deserve either one of them. Run, Ron! Run while you still can!

...

The essayist: As an interesting aside, ròn is the Celtic word for seal. In Druid lore, seals represent love, longing, and dilemma. No more appropriate totem animal could be imagined for this boy whose sense of selfhood is undermined by his longing for love from a rejecting mother and inadequate father, and who, like the selchie wives of folklore, is faced with the impossible choice of being who he truly is and being rejected, or denying the best part of himself to gain love. Ron’s intelligence and independence threaten his insecure wife (and best friend), just as the selchie’s identity as a seal-woman threatens her human husband; Ron imprisons himself by hiding who he is so the Hs can feel smart and in charge, just as the selchie’s human husband imprisons his wife by hiding her sealskin in a trunk.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #hermione granger #hermione critical #hermione granger critical #harry potter #harry potter series #harry potter critical

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt24

GOOD EVENING GUYS GALS AND NONBINARY PALS!!!!! i hope u are having a good day. :) 

pt1

pt23

pt25

(Y/N) stormed down through the palace, her dress billowing behind her as she walked. The stone cold look on her face alerted the servants that she was on a war path and it was best to leave her alone. Whatever the Fire Lord had gotten himself into, he surely deserved it. 

It was relatively early in the morning when (Y/N) opened her bedroom door to find Ursa holding a sleepy Kiyi in her arms. The previous Fire Queen gave her a stressed smile. “Noren and I wanted to go out into town today. Do you think you could watch her?” (Y/N) nodded quickly. 

“Of course! Today’s my day off.” She bent down so she was eye level with the little girl. “Do you want to have fun with me today, Kiyi?” The little girl sheepishly turned into her mother’s neck. 

“She’ll warm up to you,” Ursa promised, before handing her daughter to (Y/N). “Thank you so much, (Y/N).” She smiled. 

“Anything for you.” Kiyi squirmed in her arms as Ursa walked away, obviously very uncomfortable with being left alone with her. (Y/N) set her on the ground and took her hand. 

“Would you like to go see the turtle ducks?” Kiyi looked up at her and nodded eagerly. They walked to the pond and one of the servants gave them grapes to feed to the animals. She and Kiyi took turns throwing their grapes in. The little girl gave a small giggle every time a turtle duck ate her grape. 

“What would you like to do next?” (Y/N) asked once they had finished feeding the turtle ducks. Kiyi put a tiny finger on her chin and looked up at the sky as she thought. 

“Dolls!” She exclaimed. (Y/N) picked her back up and they walked into the palace and to Kiyi’s room. Zuko had ensured that his little sister would be absolutely comfortable while she stayed in the palace, so he had her pick all of the toys she liked from in town and brought them back into her room. She was incredibly spoiled, but she was so sweet that she deserved it. 

(Y/N) sat on the floor with Kiyi and played dolls with her. She couldn’t remember playing with dolls in her own childhood. She had received them as gifts, but her mother would put them in a case, claiming that they were too pretty to be played with. Azula had been her only other friend beside Zuko, and neither were very interested in playing with dolls. 

“There you are,” Zuko said as he poked his head into the room. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

“Zuzu!” Kiyi cheered, standing up and running over to her brother. She hugged his legs. 

“Kiyi!” Zuko cheered back, picking her up and taking her into his arms. (Y/N) smiled at the sight. “What have you and (Y/N) been up to?” 

“Dolls!” She turned herself to point at the toys. 

“And we fed the turtle ducks,” (Y/N) stood to join the two. “And now it’s time for a nap, I think!” 

“No!” Kiyi groaned, flopping over in Zuko’s arms. He started tickling her, causing her to erupt into giggles. He tossed her into (Y/N’s) arms, who tossed her gently into bed. 

“I’ll read you a story and then you gotta go to sleep, okay?” Kiyi gave a small sigh and nodded. Zuko leaned down and gave her a kiss on her forehead. 

“We’ll have extra fruit tarts for dessert if you take your nap,” He whispered. The smile on her face was wide and bright and it absolutely melted (Y/N’s) heart. “I’ll see you later,” Zuko said to (Y/N) before leaving the room. She knelt by Kiyi’s bed and began reading her the story about the first firebenders. 

As Kiyi fell asleep, a servant knocked at the door. (Y/N) got up quickly and rushed outside so that Kiyi wouldn’t wake up. She smiled pleasantly at the servant. “Can I help you?” 

“This came for you today,” The woman said as she handed her a scroll. (Y/N) gave her an approving nod to dismiss her. 

As she read, she clenched the paper in her hands. Ren had written her a goodbye letter that stated that Zuko had banished him and his father from the Fire Nation. “I think I made him jealous,” Ren wrote, “Because I was taking your time away from him.” (Y/N) tried her best to hold in the hot, angry tears that formed as she read his letter. 

(Y/N) missed Katara a lot. Throughout their adventures together, Katara had become her best friend and the person she told absolutely everything to. Every hope, every dream, everything she ever felt seemed to flow out of her mouth and straight to Katara. Their relationship wasn’t one-sided either. (Y/N) was the first person from the Fire Nation that Katara had ever liked. She showed her that not everyone should be held accountable for the decisions of their nation. The two girls grew up in completely different lives, but their bond was strong. She hadn’t seen Katara in a few months, which was the longest span of time they had gone without seeing each other. Today, (Y/N) felt that she really needed Katara, or else she might kill Zuko. 

She crumpled the note in her hands and threw it down the hall. Katara would tell her to get both sides of the story before making any rash decisions. But Katara, unfortunately, wasn’t there. 

(Y/N) stormed down through the palace, her dress billowing behind her as she walked. The stone cold look on her face alerted the servants that she was on a war path and it was best to leave her alone. Whatever the Fire Lord had gotten himself into, he surely deserved it. 

As she walked up to the doors of the throne room, the guards stationed out front held a hand up to stop her. “You must request an audience before speaking with the Fire Lord,” one guard said. (Y/N) squinted her eyes up at the guard. She hated using her position as leverage against people, but she had no choice at the moment. 

“I’m (Y/N), Fire Lord Zuko’s most trusted advisor. I need to speak to him immediately.” 

“But--” The other guard said. (Y/N) whirled to face him. 

“What do you think the Fire Lord would say if he knew you delayed me?” The guards looked at each other before parting to let her through the doors.

Zuko sat on his throne, drinking a steaming cup of tea. He smiled when he say her. 

“Oh, hi.” (Y/N) stared at Zuko, crossing her arms over her chest and glowering up at him. 

“Do you have anything you want to tell me?” She demanded. Zuko opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him. “You had no right to banish Ren and his father the way you did. And for what reason? Were you upset that I was paying more attention to him than I was to you?” 

“That’s not it.” 

“Why, Zuko? Why throw him out? What did he do to you?” 

“He didn’t do anything to me--” 

“Then tell me why you banished him!” She shouted. She could feel the fire building inside of her. Her body was itching to release it. She couldn’t understand why Zuko would do this to her. She had seen him be jealous before, but she never thought he would be capable of hurting her like this. 

“Because he was using you!” Zuko yelled. The flames at his side soared to the ceiling. Their force blew a blast of hot air into (Y/N’s) face. “He was planning to gain your trust so that he could use you to get to me.” 

She shook her head furiously. “You’re lying. He wouldn’t do that.” Zuko stood and walked down the steps to get closer to her.

“He was doing it! The whole reason he even befriended you in the first place was so that you could help sway my decisions in their favor.” His statement felt like a stab in the heart to (Y/N). She didn’t want to believe him. She didn’t want to believe that the person she had opened up to so easily was just using her the entire time. 

Her eyes welled with tears. “You’re wrong!” 

“Fine! Believe the Earth Kingdom boy over me, see if I care. You can join him if you’d like.” Zuko turned around to walk back to his throne, but stopped as soon as he heard her sobs. When he looked back at her, her face was buried in her hands. She tried her hardest to suppress her cries, but it was no use. (Y/N) knew Zuko was telling the truth. She knew Zuko like she knew herself. He had never lied to her before and would have no reason to start now. But his honesty hurt. (Y/N) had told Ren things that she had only ever told those closest to her. To think that he was only using her to further his own political advantages broke her heart. The feeling of being used was new, but she hated it. 

“Hey,” Zuko said softly, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t actually want you to leave. I just got upset.” She continued to cry, so he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Sit with me.” He led her up the steps to his throne and sat her down. He was right at her side, pouring her a cup of tea. 

She finally calmed down enough to speak. Her body still shook with leftover sobs, but she tried her best to contain them. “I can’t believe I couldn’t tell.” 

“He was a pretty good actor.” 

“You saw right through him.” She turned to Zuko. Her eyes were still shiny with tears. “When you first met him. How’d you know?” 

“I thought he was a little too confident for someone standing in the presence of the Fire Lord.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “I’m serious! He was too bold. I saw your face when he called himself your boyfriend. I knew something had to be up.” 

(Y/N) sipped her tea slowly. It wasn’t as good as Iroh’s, but it would do. “Why would he use me?” 

“He probably read up on us and knew how close we are.” 

“Yeah, but I can’t even convince you to get out of bed on time. What made him think that I could force a political agenda on you?” 

“(Y/N), if you asked me to move a volcano for you, I’d figure out how to do it.” 

“That’s too easy,” She said with a smile. “All you’d need are earth and firebenders.” Zuko rolled his eyes. 

“You get the point. I’d do absolutely anything for you. He figured that out.” 

(Y/N) stared at Zuko for a long time. She had memorized practically every inch of his face. From his amber eyes to the deep red color of his scar, Zuko was etched into her mind like a stone carving. Ren was the distraction that she had needed to keep her mind off of Zuko. But he was gone now, and so she had nothing to keep her from pining for him. 

“I think maybe I should take a vacation,” She said quietly, turning back to stare at her cup. “A few weeks or something. I could stay with Katara or Toph. Probably Katara, because I don’t think Toph has any beds.” 

“If that’s what you want,” Zuko said. A sad smile graced his features. 

“You could invite Mai to stay in the palace while I’m gone, so you don’t get so lonely.” Zuko turned away. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“Mai and I aren’t together anymore. We haven’t been since before I found my mother.” 

“You didn’t tell me that.” 

“You and I hadn’t exactly been the best of friends before I left.” (Y/N) frowned. So he had noticed her distance. He was quiet for a few moments, and then asked, “I thought things were going well for us. Then it was like you were pushing me away.” 

“I’m sorry,” She whispered. “I just couldn’t handle it.”

“Handle what? Me being me Fire Lord?” She shook her head. “Being back here?” 

“No, it’s not that at all.” She felt her mouth become dry all of a sudden. She should do it. She should just tell him everything. 

“I couldn’t handle being around you and Mai.” 

“Me and Mai? Why?” 

“Do I have to lay it all out for you?” She felt hot. The room was big, but she felt so confined. “I love you, Zuko. I loved you when were kids, I loved you when we were enemies, and I loved you when you were dating Mai. So that’s why I couldn’t be around the two of you.” 

(Y/N) could feel Zuko’s eyes on her, but she refused to look at him. The silence only increased the embarrassment of the moment for her. She felt like running away. 

“You’re an idiot.” (Y/N) whirled to stare at him, her mouth open in shock. 

“Excuse me?” 

“How was I supposed to know that’s how you felt if you never told me?” 

“I thought it was pretty obvious.” 

“No, it wasn’t! You’re not the open book you think you are. You literally fought me in an Agni Kai, how was I supposed to know you loved me?” 

“I saved your life!” 

“You saved lives like every day! How was I supposed to be different?” (Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but immediately closed it. Perhaps he was right. She hadn’t really given him any indication of how she felt about him. She huffed and crossed her arms, turning away from him. 

Zuko put his hand on her cheek, turning her head to look back at him. He stroked his cheek with her thumb. She closed her eyes tightly to brace herself for the impending rejection. 

Instead, ever so softly, she felt Zuko’s lips press to hers. Her fingers wrapped around the fabric of his robes, trying to pull him closer but not quite sure if she should hold back. 

When they pulled away, (Y/N) opened her eyes quickly, searching Zuko’s face for any sign of remorse. Instead, he smiled at her. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Well, you’re kind of scary.” (Y/N) giggled. “And I thought that after everything that happened, there would be no way for me to have a chance with you.” Zuko kissed her forehead, each of her cheeks, and then her nose. (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. “I love you, (Y/N). Always have, always will.” 

She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. So many terrible things had happened to them during their lives. But in this moment, if she had to relive it all over again, (Y/N) wouldn’t change anything. 

#atla #the last airbender #aang x reader #zuko x reader #sokka x reader #sokka #zuko #aang #katara #toph #iroh #azula #momo #appa #writing #fanfiction

[changeling-rin]

Hey there, I have a friend I've been getting into DL but I don't really know how to explain the links so I was woundering what would be the best way to explain each of the links (and sequels if possible please) - Friday (Please and Thank you!)

(cracks knuckles)

ALRIGHT PEOPLE HERE WE GO, LONG POST AHEAD

THE CHAIN LINKS

Gen: The Link from Skyward Sword. Short for Genesis, which he will never ever let anyone call him by ever because he doesn't actually like it. He's generally level-headed and appreciates common sense, and gets a bit miffed when things decide to divert from said common sense. He's the group medic, not necessarily by any skill on his part, but more because the group needed a medic and he couldn't believe there wasn't one yet, so the only logical decision was to do it himself. He gets very particular about the group taking the proper amount of healing items as a result. He functions as one-third of the Leader Trio and is the effective 'super-ego', if you will

Speck: The Link from Minish Cap. He's quiet, by far the most quiet, and will really only speak up if he's a) confident in what he has to say, and b) confident that it will add something worthwhile to the discussion. He has the ability to shrink via his magic hat (Ezlo) and a magical conduit shaped like a Jar that he carries around with him. Due to the bit where he's usually in the background, the fact that he has a surprisingly violent streak catches just about all his enemies off guard - for example, his favorite method of attack is shrinking down and using his size to stab his sword directly into his opponent's eardrum. Ironically, outside of a fight, he's one of the Links most likely to apologize to a flower for stepping on it

The Four: The Link(s) from Four Swords. They're the split-in-four version of the Link who drew the Sword, but due to a hive mind effect, everything they do is in unison. They're pretty quiet most of the time, due to most people finding said unison relatively unsettling, but since the Chain couldn't care less about that they're more willing to speak up every now and then. They specialize in group attacks and such, but they're terrible at being individual. The nature of their hive mind means that it's both incredibly uncomfortable and incredibly difficult to break their unison, and so most of the time they won't even bother trying. They have a little snarky side that comes out when they're stressed, and they hang out with Speck most often due to having similar introverted dispositions

Ocarina: The Link from Ocarina of Time, and one-half of the Hero(es) of Time with Mask due to time being broken and the continuum being shot. He's the younger half, even though he's in his sixteen-year-old body, and since he has the mind of a nine-year-old it makes a very odd combination. He has occasional confidence issues and a few self-worth/doubt beliefs as the result of hanging out with his older self and worrying about how he's going to successfully grow into someone so competent. He can usually be found next to his older self, or at the very least in the general vicinity of his older self, and he has a profound distaste for the necessity for secrets. Most specifically, his future, because it's literally standing right next to him and he'd really like to know if he beats Ganondorf, thanks

Mask: The Link from Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask, and one-half of the Hero(es) of Time with Ocarina. He's the older half despite being in the body of a twelve-year-old, and since he's technically got the mind of an eighteen-year-old at the very least it looks very strange from the outside. He's snarky, sarcastic, and takes great joy in messing with other people, most specifically his younger self by refusing to give away future hints and claiming ~Spoilers~ every time it comes up. He carries his transformation masks and uses then whenever the situation calls for it. He can usually be found next to his younger self because he's secretly worried about shattering his own personal timeline, and he puts a lot of effort into making sure Ocarina survives whatever mess they've gotten into this time. He also puts an equal amount of effort into making sure Ocarina doesn't notice this

Dusk: The Link from Twilight Princess. He functions as one-third of the Leader Trio and is the quote-unquote 'ego' - or, in othher words, he's usually the mediating force. If it's pointed out to him though, he will steadfastly deny that he's in any suited for a leadership position - which is in blatant contradiction to the fact that he's probably the most effective member of the Leader Trio. He carries the Curse Stone from Zant around his neck in a pouch and usles it to transform whenever the situation calls for it. He's also the regular soul-host for Midna, Shadow, or both, depending on the day. He's by far the most level-headed Link, taking almost everything in stride, and it takes a lot to make him lose his cool. The one surefire way to do it is to threaten someone he cares about, at which point he will waste no time completely destroying whoever was stupid enough to make said threat

RGBV: Red, Green, Blue, and Vio are the Link(s) from Four Swords Adventures, and like the Four they're the result of one Link being split into four bodies. Unlike the Four, they've retained their individuality and have four very different personalities as a result. Green is the established leader of their quad-cell, and is the most level-headed one. He's not the most patient one, but he is the one who's not afraid to do what needs to be done. Red is the most emotional one, easily excitable and absolutely willing to give hugs to anyone who asks (and a few who don't). Blue is the most aggressive one, although he mostly directs it towards his enemies. He does have a on-again-off-again rivalry of sorts with Vio, but it's never gotten beyond particularly invested sibling bickering. Vio meanwhile is the book-smarts one, or at least the one with the most strategic intelligence. He's also the best ranged fighter they have

Lore: The Link from A Link to the Past, Oracle of Ages, Oracle of Seasons, and Link's Awakening. He functions as one-third of the Leader Trio, finishing off the dynamic as the 'id'. He's by far the most unique personality, being a hyperactive chaos entity who delights in confusing people and making them question reality. He's also a polyglot, knows at least ten languages, and is constantly hunting for new ones to learn. He's easily the most experienced Link and as a result has Seen Some Stuff, but instead of being traumatized by the weirdness he decided to go in the other direction and embrace it instead. He's an absolutely terrible shot in spite of his numerous adventures, but the sheer amount of stuff he has tends to make up for it. He hasn't met a situation yet that he doesn't have an item for and he's not about to start now - although this is mostly due to his conviction that bombs are the answer to every situation

Realm: The Link from the original Legend of Zelda. He is constantly, hopelessly, chronically lost, and has absolutely no concept of where he is in relation to where everything else is. He also has a somewhat tenuous relationship with the concept of physical space, which tends to result in him getting lost in places he really should not have been able to get lost in (for example, a volcano). Regrettably this also extends to his items, which he frequently loses. In spite of this, he's one of the most cheerful and optimistic Links in the group. It takes a lot to get him into a bad mood, and given what he already goes through while maintaining a good mood, the entire Chain has yet to see him in a bad one. A side effect of getting lost so much is that his stamina is absolutely ridiculous, which makes him very good at drawing out a fight - in fact, that's more or less his specialty

Sketch: The Link from A Link Between Worlds. He has the ability to turn his body into paint and move along the walls like a living hieroglyph. Unfortunately, due to being made of watercolors when he does this, he also has a severe phobia of water as a result of the fact that he might actually die a horrifically painful death if his paint runs too much. Outside of that, he's relatively level-headed and very crafty, in the literal sense that he likes to make things. He used to be a blacksmith's apprentice before this whole Hero business got started (his specialty is metalwork). He likes things to make sense and gets a bit snarky when the universe decides to spite him by making no sense at all. He's one of the best Links at stealth, because for some reason very few people will notice the artwork on the wall and as long as he has a surface to fuse with, he can get just about anywhere

Wind: The Link from Wind Waker. He carries said Wind Waker as part of his inventory, and it lets him control the weather. He's a certified Weather Master in everything but the official certification, because he hasn't had the chance to go back and take the test yet, but the ability to throw literal tornadoes at his enemies makes him arguably one of the most dangerous Links in the group. He does prefer to hang back in a fight and hit from a distance as opposed to getting up close and personal, but that's very typical for a mage. He has an overabundance of patience, stored up from sailing for days back on his home ocean, and he'll take just about anything in stride - unless you're threatening his family, then all bets are off. He's one of the quieter Links, being more content to wait and see the results of something rather than actively participating, but this in no way means that he's not paying attention. He knows what he's capable of, is fully willing and ready to do it if necessary, and makes no excuses to the contrary

Steam: The Link from Spirit Tracks. He has the ability to see hidden things, which extends beyond his own disembodied Princess Zelda and into things like mask spirits or just plain invisible opponents. He also has a summons in the form of the Spirit Train, which he takes great pleasure in slamming into whichever villain has annoyed him. He's got a dry sort of sarcasm and he's definitely not afraid to say what he thinks. As a result of spending most of his adventure on a Train, he's easily the least physically fit of the Links and therefore tends to hang back in a fight, relying more on his summons for heavy hits or his sight ability to provide support. His previous career choice was a locomotive engineer, and as a result he and Sketch get along very well. They have regularly scheduled brainstorm sessions about what sort of gadget they should try and make this time, usually with Steam providing the math and schematics and Sketch providing the real-world experience to make it real

Shadow: The Link from a variety of games, since whenever a Shadow or Dark Link appears, that was him. He's bitingly sarcastic, could not possibly care less about the opinions of other people, and takes great joy in finding the best way to insult someone as possible. Being formed from the darker emotions of other Links, he's understandably in a poor-to-terrible mood almost all the time, although he can usually be convinced to take it out on other people. A side effect of being made of dark magic is that he can't be out in the sunlight too long - it'll start to burn him in the same way a match burns paper. As a perk though, he can manipulate his body into any shape he wants, mostly ignoring physics as he does. This makes him easily one of the most powerful Links in the group, since he doesn't take battle damage the way a physically-bodied person would and is all but immune to being stabbed. He makes for an excellent aggro target, partly because he can take anything the opponent could give, but also because he'll give it all back and then some

Oni: The Link from before Skyward Sword. Also known as the Fierce Deity. Saying that he's overpowered is a bit of an understatement, as he can take out the likes of Majora in three hits or less, but he's very unlikely to actually use his power like that. As a result of being put into a mask, he has no actual autonomy unless someone is wearing him, at which point he takes control of the body of the wearer to manifest in the real world. This lasts with no repercussions until his mask is removed, at which point Oni returns to his bindings. He has not deigned to explain how he ended up in a mask or who managed to put him there, but the loose implication points to the aftermath of the Demon War as the cause. Further information is pending. He's stoic and composed, and has yet to be truly riled up by anything that's happened. He also refuses, as a rule, to get involved with the rest of the Chain's adventures unless his presence is truly required. As the First Link Ever, and the one from whom the entire rest of the lineage has descended, Oni feels somewhat responsible for guiding the rest of the Links through their journeys - but guiding and coddling are two different things and as far as Oni is concerned, his legacies need to be able to fight their own battles

THE SEQUEL LINKS

Rune: The Link from Breath of the Wild. He has the Champion Abilities, as well as his own Quicktime specialty, and is of course concerningly amnesiac. He's quiet to the point of almost being forgettable, which is a side effect of a) spending nearly all his time in the wilderness alone with nobody to talk to, and b) having to constantly be on the alert for Guardians because nothing alerts a Guardian like a loud hylian. His inventory is nearly bottomless, and he therefore immediately becomes the group pack mule. He's also hands-down the best chef (something which makes Gen only slightly jealous)

Lux: The Link from Hyrule Warriors. He is the quietest Link, but not because of his personality - it's because he can't talk. The most vocalization he's ever going to manage is incoherent yells of effort, because anything beyond that is locked behind a psychosomatic speech block. He has not deigned to share why he has a psychosomatic speech block and at the moment it's highly doubtful he ever will. He's second only to Shadow in his sarcasm and general displeasure with the world, and the rest of the group is lucky that hylian sign only has loosely defined curse words, otherwise he'd be going off

RSE: Ruby, Sapphire, and Emerald are the Link(s) from Triforce Heroes. Emerald is the leader of the trio, more or less, while Ruby handles anything that might need a good smacking and Sapphire embodies the emotional core. They have a strange dynamic where they bicker with each other to hide the fact that they care, which is a direct result of them still settling into their own dynamics. They have their Totem formation, of course, and share an incredibly specific set of opinions about fashion. The fact that they also have their entire wardrobe on hand is complete coincidence, yep

Lyric: The Link from Cadence of Hyrule. He can hear the Universe Music better than any other Link (with the possible exception of Wind) and he will do whatever he can to follow its lead. He's constantly moving to the beat in almost everything he does, and it makes him unexpectedly deadly in a fight. It turns out that following the Universe Music gives very good buffs and Lyric is a master at following the music. Ironically enough for all his sense of rhythm, he cannot sing to save his life and is in fact instrumentally challenged, which annoys him to no end

THE OC LINKS

Codex: The Link from the Evil Overlord List, a story I write that somehow developed its own protagonist. He's snarky, sarcastic, runs on caffeine and spite, and will probably take over the world someday if he ever gets around to it. He's currently just a college student writing his thesis paper (The List), but once he graduates the world had better brace itself

Wraith: The Link that was made as a result of a random conversation one day, in which someone asked me what would happen if Demise won permanently. Five minutes with my angst-stunted brain later, I had a cheerful sunshine child who had the ability to see spirits and was getting mentored by all eighteen dead Heroes as the backup plan to deal with Demise. He's way too pure for the world and probably shouldn't be as big an optimist as he is for someone surrounded by dead people

#Changeling Answers #DL Questions #All the DL Links #literally every single one of them #Anonymous Replies #DL Master Character List #Or at least the Master Hero List #Oof

[pynkhues]

7 for the intimacy prompt with Mick x Mary Pat?

Anon!!! You are my absolute favourite for requesting my favourite crack ship baby, haha.

This is set in the same ‘verse as Navigate a Broken Path, but you don’t have to have read that to read this. I hope you like it.

7. Kissing Scars.

-

Thing is, he’s waiting for her to ask.

Figures he and her have been doing this long enough now – whatever this is – for her to get her foothold in familiarity. Hell, she’s halfway there already, with the way she keeps apricot jelly (he just likes it is all) in the fridge door and the polish for his boots in the laundry.

Shit.

The way, every night, she keeps him a plate.

Figures they might not ever sit down and tell each other their life stories, but they’ve told each other enough – offered snapshots of memories like flipping through an album – stories of dead parents, exes, old grudges and new ones and Mick had answered and asked in equal measure.

Liked that nothing seemed to phase her.

He thinks she likes that nothing seems to phase him either.

(“You know what it smells like, don’t you?” she’d asked him one night, after a few too many beers. “The dead body of someone you love?”

Yeah, he’d thought. He knew what that smelt like.

Still.

He’d just held her hand.)

It’s why it surprises him, that’s all, that he can catch her gaze in the mirror when he gets ready to go out, see her tracing his scars – the ones across his arms, stomach, burrowed deep in his shoulder – can see her inhale, swallow, wet her lips, and still never hear the question.

Can hear the how? even as she says: “Pot roast for dinner?”

 *

 Mick inhales sharply as he pulls his shirt away from the wound, gritting his teeth when the fabric – damp with blood – sticks to the skin already starting to scab.

Across from him, Rio’s gaze flicks up, eyebrow raised – a silent a’ight? – and Mick just nods, getting his shirt the rest of the way off as Rio finishes soaking the small, folded towel in alcohol and passes it over for Mick to press to it.

Stings like all fuck, but Mick grunts through it, throat constricting, as he rests his ass back against one of the crates of liquor in the backroom of the bar. The air is stagnant here, damp almost to the touch, and cold from the Detroit winter outside holding to the stone walls and concrete floors inside. He shivers, and looks back at Rio, who’s still crouched on the floor, knuckles bruised and lip split. He fared okay. Better than Mick anyway, who didn’t even see the flash of silver before the knife was stuck into his gut.

Still, Mick’s had worse.

“You called your girl?” Rio asks, and Mick blinks, gaze re-focusing as the other man starts to unpack the kit they keep stashed back here to stitch him up. Mick swallows, looks down at his belly and pulls the towel away just enough to see it soaked red with blood.

“You called yours?”

Rio just snorts at that, grabbing one of the sealed packets of needles and tearing it open with his teeth.

“Nah, I ain’t the one who got stabbed, man.”

“You really saying that like you would if you were?”

He doesn’t reply to that.

 *

 He leaves it a few days before he goes back to her place, but he makes sure to text her so she knows. Tells her he’s on a job, and she texts him okay, she texts him good luck, she texts him Billy really wants you at his sixth grade concert next week, and then, later, I want you there too.

He wants to tell her he wouldn’t miss it, but he doesn’t know how, so instead he just shows up for dinner, and it means something – the way her face lights up, the way the boys yell, the way she had a plate waiting for him in the oven, even though she didn’t – couldn’t have known he was going to show up, but still.

It’s nice.

To feel wanted.

So they watch Monsters, Inc with the kids and he feeds the baby while she gets the boys to bed, and he nurses his movements in a way she doesn’t notice until they go to bed and he figures she’ll just look at it when he takes his shirt off to reveal the puckered stitches (Rio’s never been good at fiddly work like that) and the orchid-blue petals of bruises across his stomach, stark even against his tattoos.

And she does just stare, sitting on the bed in a loose tank and her underwear, her face open, her blue eyes so wide they look like marbles, and Mick should say something, should tell her it’s nothing, that this is what he does, and she knows that, only suddenly she opens her mouth and what comes out is:

“Sharks are mean this time of year.”

Mick blinks.

“What?”

Mary Pat just nods, pushing the blankets down to wriggle underneath them, her hands shaking just a little (just enough that he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t getting familiar with her too).

“They’re just all - - all fangs,” she continues, voice pitching high, and she laughs, shakes her head more to herself than to him, and Mick slips his belt out of his pants, dropping it onto the dresser as he considers her.

“In Detroit?”

Mary Pat hums in affirmation.

“They’re taking over the River.”

“Ain’t it frozen over right now?”

“It’s a new species. They’re called - - Ice Sharks. Or so I’ve heard.”

“From who?”

“I don’t - - shouldn’t you be telling me?” she gestures at his belly, and Mick raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re the one who got in a fight with one.”

She offers it so matter of fact that it takes Mick a moment to catch up. To turn his look from her, half undressed, in her bed, tan sheets beneath her and patchwork quilt being tugged up her soft, bare legs, face set in certainty, and himself, still in his jeans, but otherwise naked, with no idea what the fuck is going on.

So.

He just asks it.

“What are we doing here?”

Through the walls, he can hear a pipe gargle. Can hear Benji snoring (kid’s got the lungs of a guy twice his size), and mattress springs whine as one of the kids rolls over, but in here, Mary Pat just looks back at him, shifts her weight a little, before she jerks her chin down at the barely-healed wound at his gut.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Which - -

Fuck.

“No.” He pauses, then adds stiffly: “It’s just work.”

Because it was. Because it was just another deal with just another guy who thought he could take more than he was owed, and it’s happened before and it’ll happen again, and Mick put a bullet in the guy’s head and it was over.

It is over.

He sighs, rubs a little at his chest, and suddenly, Mary Pat gets back up onto her knees, lifts her shirt up and pushes the top of her faded panties down. Mick blinks, gaze fixing, as she brushes down some of her wiry pubic hair to show a thin, puckered line.

“I had a C-Section with Andy,” she tells him. “You know you’re not supposed to lift your baby for six weeks after a C-Section otherwise you’ll scar? You know how many women aren’t going to pick up their babies for six weeks? I figure it’s a - - a work wound, right? That’s all it is. A part of the job.”

She inhales a little, cheeks flushed, but she still covers it with her hand, lets her shirt fall back down to cover her soft, pale belly, tries to make it look casual and Mick watches her fingers grope at herself, self-conscious, and before he can think anything of it, he says:

“You sure? It kinda looks like you were in a knife fight.”

The laugh is instant, and curls warm in Mick’s head, and she folds back down into the bed as she says:

“I’m guessing you’d know.”

He inhales sharply at that, looking at her, and he can’t figure out if she realizes it’s this one, if it’s what happened this time, or if she’s just figured that it’d be one of them. One of his scars. Wonders if she knows it’s the nick at his ear, or the one at his Achilles heel. Shit. Has she even seen that one? He wets his lips, and from the bed, Mary Pat just grins at him, her eyes a little dark, like she feels this too, but then she hums. The sound low.

“Actually it’s funny you should say that, I was in a knife fight once myself.”

Mick blinks, lip curled.

“Yeah?”

She nods, rolls her eyes up to the ceiling, wrinkles her nose.

“Lilli - - Lisa Bosw - - Bottom. Little Lisa Boss-Bottom. Yep. That was her name. We were at a carnival, and I had just gotten off a ferris wheel with this boy she kinda liked, and she just leapt right out at me. Unhinged. With a knife! There were rumours she was actually a werewolf.”

There’s something to the way she says it – like the lie’s sorta tumble rolling out of her, head over ass over feet, a way to it that makes his lips twitch, and Mick reaches for the buckle on his pants. Slips them off until he’s just in his underwear, before padding slowly towards the bed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mary Pat says, and she scoots across the bed to make room for him, lowering her voice when she adds: “You should see me the next full moon.”

She growls then, and then instantly looks embarrassed that she did it, closing her eyes, her cheeks flushing red, and Mick’s grin comes before he can stop it, finally climbing tenderly into bed beside her. Before he can think anymore of it, he sinks low across the mattress, pulls down the top of her panties, and looks at her c-section scar again, and says:

“You sure this ain’t from a bobcat?”

It’s her who laughs this time, her eyes opening, embarrassment still there but not quite running so deep maybe, and he presses his lips to the scar, feels the bristle of hair against his mouth, the bodily hitch of her breath. Then – a hand at his shoulder, calloused, working fingers smoothing over an old bullet hole scar, and fuck, it’s his breath that hitches then.

“I’m guessing this is from a - - a giant bee.”

“A giant bee,” he echoes, hand coming to palm at her too-soft hip as he starts to push his way back up the bed. “How giant?”

“Giant-giant,” she replies. “I heard they were engineering them in a lab in Portland to make crazy amounts of honey.”

It feels weird – how long the smile holds on his face, and his hand coasts up her side to gently grab her arm, hold it up so they can both see where she burnt herself on the iron last week.

“You get this volcano diving?”

She hums in affirmation, before saying: “To save a family of elephants.”

He can’t help it then, the bark of a laugh, but before it can bellow too loud, before he can think to stop it, Mary Pat’s leaning forwards, freeing her arm from his grip to curl it around his neck and kiss him. His laugh lost to the warmth of her mouth and the scratch of her fingers on the base of his skull.  

“I know what you do,” she breathes into his mouth. “I know who you are. Please don’t think - - don’t think you can’t come here after.”

The air is sucked out of his lungs, and he leans back just enough to look at her – at her blue eyes and her working scars and the way her gaze holds him, and he thinks I’m not supposed to get this but he just says okay.

#mick x mary pat #i just love them a lot you guys #one day they'll have a scene together on the show #i am willing it into existence #navigate a broken path #fic asks #intimacy prompts #my fic #welcome to my ama #mick #mary pat #Anonymous

[officialleehadan]

Up from the Coals

Hello darlings! Today's Poll Winner was brought to you by Brandon! Darling, thank you so much for your support! I love seeing these old uncollected stories coming back!

Prompt: THIS STORY!

+++

The dragon’s name, or the name he gave, was Synge. Katya wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the whole dragon business, but since they weren’t getting any kind of choice in the matter. Synge wasn’t going anywhere.

(It was comfy down in the lava, and I fell asleep,) Synge explained. He had buried himself back in the thick, half-molten pool of gold that was, apparently, his favorite napping spot. The gold was contained by a bowl-shaped shield that worked as a crucible to keep the gold contained. Katya had to admit, it did look comfortable, for a being that didn’t mind the heat of the lava beneath it. (The city was… well, they liked to hunt my kind. They killed some of my clan, so I came and made them stop.)

“I guess that explains the soot and fire damage we saw,” Derek said dryly. He was handling the dragon issue better than she was, but he was a fantasy nut, and meeting a live dragon was something he had always dreamed of. Katya was not at all thrilled about the massive reptile in their space, no matter how interesting and scientifically valuable Synge’s information was. “I assume that making them stop involved a lot of fire?”

(I set off the volcano a little,) Synge said smugly, and flared his wings to spread out over the hot stone around him. Sparks flickered over his wings as he splashed the lava around a little. (Just the gas cloud, and enough lava to heat up the city more than humans like. They all left, and my clan was waiting outside.)

That was the second time Synge had mentioned a clan, and Katya had a sinking feeling that clan  actually meant lots of other dragons. She did not want lots of other dragons showing up.

“What happened to your clan?” she asked cautiously, since Synge had been asleep for a long while after, apparently, chasing the humans who used to live in this city away. “Are they here too?”

(Most of them are asleep in other places) Synge said vaguely with a wing-shrug. His black scales caught the red light of the lava. The room should have been punishingly hot, but Synge had explained that he had more magic spread around to keep the volcano stable. That also meant not letting the stone around them soften, and not letting poisonous gasses build up where they weren’t supposed to be. There was a particularly clever system where the dragon had dug out something like a water-trap, filtering up into a hot spring above. The gas went up and vented safely through the spring without a glimpse of the hidden lair beneath it. (We like to sleep in the warm places and time is… not much of a concern.)

No, Katya supposed that time wasn’t much of a concern for a being that could take a casual nap for five thousand years while buried in lava at the bottom of a long-forgotten city.

(I’m very curious about the Outside,) Synge told them, and laid his immense head on the stone next to them. He was so big that they could both fit on his nose without a problem. Katya was not at all sure how to bring the dragon outside without starting a Godzilla movie. (Are there more humans now? What is magic like? I always liked magic.)

“We… don’t really have magic anymore,” Derek said, although Katya saw the way his eyes had lit up with excitement. If he had his way, magic would very much be coming back into the world. “But we have all kinds of things. Electricity. Internal combustion engines. Oh, you’re gonna love the internet. It’s great. The world’s knowledge at your fingertips.”

(Are fingers required? I don’t have fingers,) Synge commended, and reared up to examine his wing-claws thoughtfully. He shook and spread his wings out for a big stretch, and fore folding in on himself again. (I guess I could have fingers. I haven’t been a human in a long time.)

Before Katya could ask what Synge meant by that, the dragon clambered out of his gold-pool, shook off carefully, and got settled onto the stone. In moments, his immense form blurred in the heat-waves, and then there was a human in his place. He was about twenty, if Katya had to guess. He had thick black hair that stuck up in wild spikes, and his eyes were the same metallic green as his dragon-form. He had mimicked his clothing on Derek’s, but borrowed a version of Katya’s leather jacket. His skin was pale, and he had the pale tawny skin of someone with a lot of China in their blood.

“Will this work? Oh, your language feels odd on my tongue,” Synge said, and tugged on his coat. It had scales down the sleeves, and black-scale wings down the back. He turned in a circle and examined himself closely. “This is so strange. My balance is all off, walking on two legs without my wings to balance.”

“You uh, you look human now,” Derek said dumbly, apparently as stunned as Katya. “Well that… that solves some problems. Okay, you uh, you look human. Want to go outside?”

“I may have to shift back to get you back upstairs,” Synge said with a speculative look up through the towering cavern of the underground city. “I’m so much smaller like this, and the lower levels got blocked up when I set off the volcano.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s… we don’t have climbing gear. Yeah, we’re gonna need help,” Katya said numbly as she stumbled over the concept of setting a volcano off again. That was going to take some time to get used to. Synge nodded once, and blurred back into his dragon-form. (Alright humans, onto my nose again. Let’s go see the sky.)

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More Stories!

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#dragon #dragons #Write #writer #written #writing prompt #prompt #prompts #story #novel #fantastic #romance #romantic #love #spilled ink #spilled writing #spilled romance #spilled feelings #supernatural #writeblr #lee hadan #pretty #art #artistic #music #inspiration #fantasy #magic #magical #sword

[aitarose]

SKINNY LOVE | ZUKO

PAIRING: Zuko x Reader [fem]

PLOT: Years and years of build up, only to lead to absolutely nothing. Y/N’s constant emotion was confusion, and there was no changing that when it came to Zuko’s feelings.

WARNINGS: angst

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

A/N: my best friend says he might have feelings for me, and i’m so stressed right now i’m going crazy. so here’s a little fic that literally explains our entire relationship and these are all my raw emotions ew. also this is almost word for word our conversation tonight

MY MASTERLIST

Their cycle seemed to be infinite, running in circles on the same track over and over again throughout the course of their lifelong friendship. The friendship that had been more confusing than the most trivial question in the entire world.

Y/N had always considered feelings to be straightforward. Something that could be determined with a simple yes or no answer, rather than continuous strife and struggles, arguments and silence.

She knew what she felt, and she wanted other’s to know that. Communication was no fare for her when it came to anger, sadness, and love—especially when it came to love.

Zuko on the other hand had what some would call troubles in the aspect of emotions. He’d bottle up all of his stress and worries, bursting like a volcano when they’d release. 

After years, decades of friendship and unspoken feelings, Y/N still didn’t know where she stood with the newly crowned Fire Lord. They’d danced around their relationship for what seemed like forever, him never truly speaking the words she’d always wanted to hear.

And after so many rounds of psychoanalyzing his words and phrases, the responses he’d give her after she’d try her best to pour her heart out to him, Y/N was beginning to grow sick of their routine.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love him anymore, she was just so unbelievably tired of it all. Peace was the thing she needed most. Inner peace with herself, her appearance, her confidence.

All the things that she’d never fully realized due to her constant focus on Zuko and only Zuko. The things that made someone unique, what made them them. She was lacking them, and the only way to grow was to distance herself.

So, distance was what she gave him. Y/N moved around the world, never settling in one nation, finding new cultures and traditions to enjoy and bringing them back with her to the Fire Nation every now and then.

During her little conquest, Zuko had found his place beside Mai. Comfortable in his own little bubble, never taking any risks outside of the familiarity of his daily life. He hadn’t grown up—that was the first thing Y/N had come to notice as her feelings were reborn.

It’d taken her two years to move on from him, two years to find love for herself and take interest in people other than her best friend—but the minute she heard that he ended his relationship with Mai, they’d come flying back.

All of her former insecurities pounded in her mind, screaming in her inner monologue, refusing to give her a single second of silence. Y/N was out of breath, completely lost in the sea of her own thoughts.

She and Zuko had stayed in contact over the years of her adventure. Constantly writing letters back and forth, telling each other about their day, their new friends, and whatever was remotely interesting in their lives. 

Although she hadn’t physically seen him in so long, Y/N still felt a connection to him. A connection that pulled her like a magnet the minute he stood before her, smiling his dopey, crooked grin.

When he’d wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into the tightest hug she’d ever been a part of—Y/N’s heart quite literally dropped, falling out of her body, and rolling out into the ocean. 

Her chest was tight, it was almost as if she felt like she was choking on a food that was stuck in her throat. Something that was refusing to come out, no matter how hard she tried to say those three little words—I love you.

And Zuko, himself, hadn’t settled her storm by any means. If anything, he’d encouraged it to rage on, encouraged it to continue to torment and demolish all the self respect she’d grown.

Whilst Y/N had jokingly spoken out the idea of them being together, he’d practically driven her to insanity. “What if I wasn’t joking, Zuko?” She wondered, freezing in disbelief at what she was saying. “What if I did feel that way?”

In response, Zuko simply laughed. His eyes pinched shut, a wide smile overtaking his mouth in amusement at her curiosity. “I don’t believe you, Y/N.” He rolled his eyes, playing with their intertwined hands. “You don’t actually feel that way.”

At that, a light scoff escaped Y/N’s lips, her face becoming contorted and annoyed. “Okay.” She started, shaking her head at the conversation she was about to trigger. “Well, what would your response be if I did?”

Zuko’s looked in her direction, his amber eyes meeting her steely ones. “You’re really baiting me, aren’t you?” His face went a little pale at her slight nod, a large gulp running down his neck. 

“It wouldn’t be a no.” 

Y/N’s smile dropped, her expression growing blank as her heartbeat began to jump out of her chest. What he’d just hinted at was her getting what she’d always wanted, the thing that she’d dreamed of since she was only five years old.

Both of them seemed to be frozen in the moment, neither knowing exactly what was going on as they weren’t aware of what their feelings for each other were. Their lives had become so different, they’d become so different.

Zuko was a leader now, a person that needed to have stability and assurance in his life. He was a traditionalist, he needed rules and regulations to live in harmony with himself and his people.

Y/N, however, was a free spirit. She knew what she wanted in life and she’d be sure to make it happen. Commitment and social standards weren’t on her agenda, as she didn’t have one.

But when it came to Zuko, Y/N would do anything. She’d drop her goals and dreams if it’d amount to one minute of true happiness in his arms. Her love for him had grown toxic, it was poison in her brain.

Poison that could also be considered pure. A feeling of actual and real love for the prince that she’d known for her entire life. Everything about him contradicted itself, the stress he made her feel was practically indescribable.

“Are you being serious?” Y/N was on the verge of hysterically laughing, she was so appalled by Zuko’s response. Her face was bright red, dancing on the line of embarrassment and anger. 

Zuko let go of her hands, his palm running over the back of his neck. He shrugged, sheepishly smiling as he looked everywhere but at her. “Yeah.” He sighed, pursing his lips. “That seemed like the wrong answer.”

“No.” Y/N’s neck snapped to turn to him, her eyes searching for his own. Her voice became breathless, her lungs nearly gasping for air. “Go back. Are you being serious, right now, that your answer wouldn’t be a no?”

As Zuko shook his head to signify that he wouldn’t reject her question, Y/N almost toppled over in shock. “So, figuratively speaking, if I had feelings for you—you wouldn’t reject me straight on?”

Thirty seconds was what it took for Zuko to answer her. Half a minute of earth shattering patience that Y/N had to endure before she heard his simple words. “No, of course not.”

“But what does that mean?” Y/N was now itching for closure. She had to find out what this all meant. What it meant for their past, their present, and the future of their relationship.

“I would have no reason to reject you, that’s what it means.” He simply shrugged, expecting the conversation to be over by now. The talk of feelings was wearing Zuko out, causing a large yawn to form on his features.

He was tired, exhausted at the discussion of romance and secret pining. Communication simply wasn’t his strong suit, and while Y/N fully knew that, she continued to press further.

“You don’t get it, Zuko. You’re confusing me.” She explained, waving her hands out in front of her face. “So, you wouldn’t reject me, but you also wouldn’t say yes to a confession?”

Y/N was pushing him to his emotional limit. The mental blockade that always formed in his brain, beginning to cancel out his words. Zuko’s headspace was starting to empty, sleep being the only goal in mind.

“Those do really contradict, don’t they?” His eyes had begun to drop, opening and closing. Zuko’s body was now resting on Y/N’s, most of his weight being supported by her stature.

Y/N led her best friend towards his living quarters, still having a million questions at the tip of her tongue—whilst only one made its way out. “What does it all mean? You never said what it means.”

As she opened the door to his bedroom, Zuko let go of his hold on her. He gave her a toothless smile, weary from his low energy, and closed the door, giving her a final glance through the crack of light.

“It means that I’m tired, Y/N.” His eyes held her gaze, sending her waves of confessions in a single glance. “I’m tired and I can’t give you all that you need right now. Perhaps we can continue this in the morning.”

But with morning, came no confessions. No discussion of what had gone down the night before. It was as if they’d never been together at all, as if it was just another night between two platonic friends.

In reality, Y/N didn’t believe that she’d ever be worthy enough for someone like Zuko. Someone who seemed to be so unbelievably perfect for her in every way, shape, and form.

Maybe the best way to end this constant cycle would be to disappear. To leave him be, in his own happy little life, away from herself. She’d learned to live without him once, there was no way she wouldn’t be able to do it again.

The only problem was did she really want to live a life without him?

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline​ @cherryskyies​ @shell-bells-ringding​  @xapham​ @mochminnie​ @bombardia​ @xxspqcebunsxx​ @missmorosis​ @mysticpeacecrusade @akiris​ @simpinforsukka​ @protect-remus​ @kaylove12​@lammello​ @user12345321 @duh-dobrik​

#zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko imagines #zuko fic #zuko fanfic #zuko fanfiction #zuko oneshot #zuko angst #angst #unrequited love #skinny love #atla #zuko #atla x reader #atla imagine #atla fic #atla fanfic #atla fanfiction #atla oneshot #avatar #avatar the last airbender #the last airbender

[sundaeserenade]

So a few weeks ago I wrote a thread on twitter about wanting to write a reguri soulmate fic where they decide to not be soulmates and make the decision for themselves. like it’s a mutual thing that they both decide on instead of it being this sign from the universe or fate or whatever. basically, they just go against fate.

and i tried writing out that idea and forcing it into the standard path of r/g/y/fr/lg but i ended up not liking that and i didn’t like a few other things that i did. so this was a learning experience! if i ever write this, it’ll have to be an actual..au with no canon ties. which is probably better because i can do whatever i want with the world building!

but i wrote 2.3k words... and i’m not going to post this on ao3 bc it’s not finished and it never will be. it’s not polished and it never will be, but i figured i should post it here so that it’s somewhere, at least.

They were considered to be two of the lucky ones. Finding one’s soulmate so early on in life is a blessing from the universe, a sign that their bond is under the ever watchful gaze of the divine. Luck will follow them, surely. What do they have left to despair over? What do they have to fear? The greatest challenge of their lives has already been solved, and so they are told to walk freely and without pressure clinging to their shoulders.

They found each other at the fine age of six, and from now on, they will be blessed and find wealth.

“I don’t believe any of it,” Green whispers. He keeps his voice low, eyes darting around the blanket fort they’d built in Red’s living room. The only light they have is a single flashlight that keeps flicking on and off due to low battery. Red’s in charge of turning it off and on in hopes that it’ll last just a minute longer while Green is pouring over the books he’d taken from the bookshelf at his grandfather’s house. 

They’re all self-help books with titles like How to Find Your Soulmate and Gut Feelings Can Get in the Way of Love and other crap that Red doesn’t care for. Green turns pages and looks at indexes, his mouth forming words but no sound coming out. He skims over paragraphs meant for people twice his age to read, but Green’s smart, always has been, and he’s handling the bulk of the work while Red turns the flashlight on and off again.

Green stops on a page and Red leans forward to read the chapter title: Life is Always Better with a Soulmate! Green scoffs and rolls his eyes. “That can’t be true. What about those couples that break up? Your mom and dad did, right Red?”

Red nods, lips thinning. There’s a nervousness in his heart, heightened by the darkness that comes and goes with the dying of the flashlight. All of these books are telling lies and the adults believe them. But both he and Green know that it’s wrong, that soulmates aren’t all that they’re cracked up to be. 

After all, when he’d first met Green, when they’d first shook hands and looked into each other’s eyes, their bond was formed. 

It felt like… It felt like what volcanoes erupting looks like. A loud, earth-shaking feeling that filled Red with shock and fear of what was to come. It felt like the air was being forced out of his lungs, like an ekans squeezing a rattata. It felt like being lost in the woods at night and getting an expensive toy as a birthday present. It was frightening and too much all at once, so much so that they both jumped back, startled and scared.

But it was a bond being formed under the eyes of the universe. A pact being sealed without their consent or understanding. They had found their soulmate, and the elation and joy swept over Pallet Town like a wind with Red and Green staring at each other in confusion through all of it.

Green is Red’s best friend, but he can’t say for sure if that’s because of the bond or because Green likes to talk about pokémon with him. There’s no one else around who has such a strong interest in the creatures, but Green will flaunt his knowledge and sneak them into his grandfather’s lab to look at some of them. They fed a growlithe together, they ran from a nidoran together, but Red doesn’t feel that special feeling again. 

“I don’t feel it either,” Green admitted to him when Red had written out his question. “Maybe that’s all we’ll ever feel. Maybe it’s normal.”

There are no marks to make the process of finding soulmates easier. It’s a feeling, it’s a gaze, it’s a touch that one feels when they meet their special someone. Because of this, everyone is overly friendly. Shaking hands and hugging strangers is commonplace. Eye contact is expected, and Red is secretly relieved to have met Green because now he can avoid meeting people’s eyes.

Everywhere around them, people are almost desperate to find their one. It’s so deeply ingrained in their way of living and looking at the world. So Green wonders and ponders and thinks. Red asking that question only opened up other possibilities, and Green is curious and intelligent, so he runs with it in search of the truth. 

Which brings them to the blanket fort and the lies printed in black ink. The two of them sit there comparing what they’ve experienced in their lives to what the world at large believes. Red’s parents were no longer together, and yet they’d been soulmates. What does it mean? They’d been told repeatedly that once they found their special someone, the world would right itself, the universe would sing their song and they’d face little to no hardships.

“It’s a lie,” Green spits, closing the book with a loud slam. “They’ve been lying to us, Red.”

Red puts down the flashlight and reaches over to take Green’s hand. 

There’s no spark or visions of celebration to differentiate the touch from any other one.

 When Green turns seven, he puts distance between them. 

When Green turns eight, he starts being mean.

When they both turn eleven, they begin their pokémon journeys. 

It’s a monumental undertaking and when he was younger, Red had thought he and Green would face it side by side. But now, Green runs forward, spewing taunts in his wake. There’s no link between them that offers Red a peek into what Green’s really feeling, no sign given by their bond that could explain his behavior. Red is left alone, confused and hurt by his own soulmate shunning and belittling him every chance he gets. 

Red keeps walking because that’s what he’s always done. He catches pokémon, forges bonds with them, and trudges through grass and mud and rain to get where he needs to go. It’s fun being outside so much. He gets to be on his own, away from people and it’s not seen as him being strange or weird. Pokémon aren’t afraid of him. Pokémon don’t whisper hurtful things behind his back. It’s him, his team, and the four badges in his case.

That is, until the foreboding air and eerie light of Lavender Town comes creeping closer. An unsettling presence hangs over the town like a smog, and Red finds himself thrust into the city's problems as he chases Team Rocket. And in doing so, he runs into his soulmate once more in the Pokémon Tower. 

Red has a reason for being here; he’s been chasing Team Rocket thugs his entire journey. Green, however… Well. There’s only two reasons for visiting the Pokémon Tower, but Red doesn’t pry. Green tries once again at intimidation, and it ends as it always has previously; Green hiding his hurt behind a cracking mask and Red never being able to find the right words to say.

And yet, when he leaves Lavender Town after driving out Team Rocket and saving Mr. Fuji, he spots Green on Route 7, leaning against a tree. It’s not like Green to stick around in places where there’s no gym, so Red is confused...until he understands that Green’s been waiting for him.

A feeling of dread weighs him down. Was their fight at the Pokémon Tower not enough? Were the insults not enough? Red has had enough, and moves to the left to give Green a wide berth. He doesn’t want to battle or deal with the complex feelings that follow. He’s spent enough time here. He needs to go.

“Red.” 

Green’s voice stops him. It’s not because of the bond or any other false truth that’s been shoved down his throat. At one point, Green had been his best friend. And now, he still remains Red’s soulmate. Red keeps handing out chances for change, opportunities to fix things, but nothing ever comes. He needs to go.

Green pushes off of the tree, his arms still crossed. “Camp out with me tonight.”

Not a battle. Not an insult. Not a pointless taunt. A proposition. An opportunity for change? Red would be a fool not to take it.

He nods.

 By the fireside, Red and Green stare into the flames and keep their words to themselves. Their tents are already set up, their teams have already eaten dinner and they’ve done the same. There’s nothing left to take care of, but still they prolong what brought them together in the first place. 

Red has no idea what it is that Green wants, so he’s confused, but that’s not the only thing that’s confusing him. He hasn’t spent this much time around Green in years, and yet...he feels nothing from their soulmate bond. There’s no relief or itch for touch, there’s no yearning in his heart and no sudden impact of feelings like when they’d first locked gazes. If feels normal between them, as it always has since that first meeting. 

Is this normal? Is this how it’s supposed to be?

Green tosses another twig into the fire that it didn’t need and looks up at Red. “Do you want to break our bond?”

Red’s eyes widen. His lips part. He forgets to breathe. He stares.

“I’m not going to force you,” Green holds up a hand. “But I… I’ve been thinking...about this whole soulmate thing…”

Red keeps silent, his heart racing and it’s the most feeling he’s ever felt since that day. 

“I don’t know about you, but luck hasn’t been following me,” Green says, glaring at the flames. “Wealth hasn’t found me. And I know… I know we aren’t close anymore, but…” Green sighs, looks up at Red and the fire in his eyes is unlike anything Red’s ever seen. It’s volcanoes erupting and stars bursting into dust. “I want to make this decision myself.”

Quickly, Red reaches into his backpack for his notepad and a pencil. He bites his lip as he thinks on what to say. When it comes down to it, there’s just one question that hasn’t left him and probably never will. 

Have you felt anything since that first day? Even now?

Green looks over the paper and he takes a minute to respond. When he does, hurt chokes his voice, reality making his throat tighten. “No, I haven’t.”

Red sits back. The last bit of hope up and fades and he’s left with this choice. What is a soulmate bond if there’s no feelings attached? If there’s no constant affirmation that this is right? How do they know for certain that they’re each other’s soulmates? The feelings had been immense, but they’d vanished since. But who was to say that was a bond being formed? What if it was just them, the two of them, and nothing more?

But it had to be a bond, because that’s how it’s always been described. That was the one part those books got right. That initial feeling of everything at once, like the universe crashing in on them. Amazing and scary and beautiful and sad. Everything that they are and could be leveled against them in one, single gaze. 

Then after, there’s no more. That is all they are afforded. 

Green is his soulmate, but Red thinks of him as a lost childhood friend, someone who isn’t interested and wants nothing to do with him. Still, those old times when they were younger… Red wouldn’t mind going back to that. He prefers friendship over this bitter rivalry that hurts much more than it should, that tears and rips his skin.

But isn’t this the same? Green wants nothing to do with him yet again. Not as friends, not as soulmates, only rivals competing for something that they were supposed to do together. Red grips his pencil tight.

Do you hate me that much?

Green stutters. “Red, I…” He shakes his head, leans forward to set his elbows on his knees. He stares into the flames but then looks past them to regard Red. “I don’t hate you. I just think this would be best for both of us.”

Why?

“Because have you ever felt anything for me?” Green asks, turning the question around. “You always ask if I’ve felt anything, but have you? What is this bond doing for us, huh? Everyone talks like it’s the best thing, like it’s an amazing necessity, but it’s not!”

Red looks away, feeling Green’s frustration and understanding it. They always sang of soulmates, sang of love and fate, but it’s done nothing for them. Are they too young? Too ignorant of the world? And if so, shouldn’t they figure this out themselves? They can’t trust what they’re told, they can’t trust what people say. This is a step that they have to make on their own.

With every step on his journey, Red’s been making his own choice and how freeing it’s felt. He decides where to go, who to battle, what pokémon to catch. He decides his place in the world and who he wants to be. He dives into caves and crosses rivers. He looks up and dreams of snow, he looks back and yearns for times long past. But those are still his choices to make. 

This is the same. This is something that they can choose for themselves. There was always the possibility for more, an opportunity for the two of them to become more, but…this opportunity, this chance may be what they need.

What does Red have to lose? There’s never been another feeling or indication. They’ve grown apart despite being fated to be together. They’ve already defied all logic and reason. 

And he wants… He wants to know. Maybe if they break the bond, another feeling will happen and they’ll know for certain, then. 

How do we break it?

#reguri #namelessshipping #unpolished and abandoned wip's #my writing #nameless #with how red's path goes in the games this is difficult to write #because their relationship is already strained #so i had to write around that #and i don't like how it alters the tone and intent of it #to red feeling like green hates him #instead of it being 'hey this shit is just not working out at all let's end it' #i want them to be on good terms when they do #so it has to be an au #text

[happylittledrabbles]

Four Years

Rating: T 

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Tsukishima/Kuroo, Tsukishima/Yamaguchi, Kuroo/Kenma

On the day of Kuroo's graduation, Tsukishima kisses him and runs away without another word, leaving both of them confused. Neither speaks to one another after that, and Tsukishima has to figure out his own emotions now that the person he loves has left, bouncing around from one person to another in order to fill the hole Kuroo created. Angst, hurt, self-discovery, and acceptance ensue, all ending in a high school reunion that ends in tears.

AO3

—

It happened so quickly, Kuroo barely knew what happened. 

One second, he was congratulating Tsukishima on his good work outside the nationals tournament gym, joking around with the skinny beanpole he had grown close to for nearly a year. Pushing him playfully, ruffling his hair, patting him on the shoulder. All the standard forms of affection Tsukishima had learned to tolerate over the months. Keyword:  tolerate . The last thing Kuroo expected was to have that affection returned by the same Tsukishima who slapped him the first time he placed his hand on his back. 

Especially in the form of a kiss.

A chaste kiss, one that lasted barely a second, but a kiss nonetheless. On the lips. 

Before Kuroo could even form a thought, nevermind actually react to it, he was faced with the back of Tsukishima’s head as he sprinted away and down the sidewalk to the hotel. If he hadn’t just been kissed, he would have found it comical that Tsukishima was finally putting effort into exercise—running no less—but all that he could summon was a shaky exhale as his trembling fingers came up to his lips, where he could have sworn he still felt Tsukishima’s chapped lips on his. 

If Kuroo knew that the last thing he’d see of Tsukishima for months to follow would be the back of his head, he would have sprinted right after him and captured his wrist, spun him back, and made fun of his escape plan before kissing him squarely on the lips. 

But he didn’t know that. So as he switched his gaze from the diploma in his hands up to the audience at his graduation and didn’t see the skinny blond he’d had his eye on since he first practiced with him, to blond who stole a kiss from him, he couldn’t help but feel his face fall and his heart go gray. His grip on his diploma tightened until his mother slapped the back of his head for damaging his diploma, but he couldn’t help it. He apologized to his mother and thanked his family for coming out in support of him and walked home with his family, desperately using the celebratory alcohol to escape the images of glasses paired with a shit-eating grin that assaulted his mind. What he would do to have that shit-eating grin in front of him and wipe it off the holder’s face with a deep kiss. 

He couldn’t even escape it in his dreams. Tsukishima dominated them in every form: his determined face as he practiced, his bored face as he watched his teammate’s foolish antics, his sleeping face that showed off an unguarded version of him for only a short time. But that short time was more than enough to win over Kuroo’s obsession. But that obsession had to come to an end. He had to focus on his new job while Tsukishima had to focus on school. They were at two different points in their lives. At least he would always have that kiss. 

 The problem was, Tsukishima wasn’t focusing on school when it started up again. Or practice. He wasn’t focusing on anything other than the kiss. Summer was torture since he didn’t have homework to at least pretend to lose himself in. All he had was his thoughts, and those were lethal. At random times, he’d find himself running his fingertips over his own lips, letting his eyes flutter closed and imagine Kuroo’s face in front of his, except instead of that surprised expression Kuroo held that day, it would be something full of want, of desire. When school started again, he was a lot more excited than usual, especially for volleyball practice. Except he still couldn’t escape the kiss. 

“Tsukishima!” Daichi yelled, snapping Tsukishima out of his thoughts. 

He hadn’t even noticed the volleyball that had whizzed past his head and nearly knocked Hinata down behind him, all thanks to the amazing ace who was currently apologizing profusely to the both of them, but Tsukishima couldn’t have cared less. 

“Sorry,” he said monotonously, trying to hold back a roll of his eyes. He got back into his blocker stance, holding his arms at chest-level in anticipation for Kageyama’s serve. 

“Great, now get your head out of your ass and actually play, moron,” Kageyama demanded before doing one of his powerful serves. 

Tsukishima scowled at the other, but the scowl lessened when he noticed how the light streaming in from the barred windows fell so perfectly against his black hair, casting an almost halo around him as he jumped nearly two feet in the air, seeming to float before finally landing on Earth. Kageyama at that moment reminded him so much of Kuroo, from the black hair to the offhanded remarks about his performance. Although Kageyama was a tad more offensive in his remarks, Tsukishima couldn’t tell the difference, especially when he was just reeling from the powerful effects of his first kiss. 

He swallowed thickly and swiftly blocked one of Asahi’s spikes, resulting in a very red palm from the aftermath. He cleared his throat and glanced directly at Kageyama, who was staring him down through the net. 

“That good enough for you?” he asked calmly, resulting in Kageyama needing to be held back by Daichi and promptly hit in the back of the head by Suga. He walked off the court and leaned down to pick up his water bottle, drinking slowly as he watched with pleased amusement as Kageyama tried to wrestle his way out of Daichi’s arms. 

“You do that on purpose, don’t you?” Hinata asked, causing Tsukishima to jump from surprise. 

“Geez, you pop out of nowhere, don’t you?” Tsukishima grumbled behind his straw, glancing down at Hinata before looking up at the ceiling. “But yeah, it’s fun to see him freak out.”

Hinata went quiet for a moment, which usually would have been a blessing for the blond, but it made him uneasy at the same time. 

“He has feelings, too, you know,” Hinata mumbled, looking down shyly at his fingers clasped in front of him. “He just can’t control them.”

Tsukishima scoffed. “What are you, his handler? Now I know that he officially needs to go to therapy for anger issues.”

“No!” Hinata exclaimed, attracting the attention of the nearby teammates. He blushed from embarrassment before grasping Tsukishima’s wrist and pulling him over to the equipment closet, staring up at the blond as much as the dimly lit room would let him. “He’s just misunderstood! And you need to stop throwing gas on the flame. He’s a nice person when you get to know him.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you have a wittle crush on him,” Tsukishima teased, making grabby hands to further cement the idea of Hinata being a lovesick puppy. However, with the combination of Hinata’s deepening blush, the turn of his face to hide it, and his lengthening silence, Tsukishima’s eyes widened in realization. So...his suspicions ever since the first day of meeting them were right? Oh, this was delightful.

“No way,” Tsukishima breathed, a grin of disbelief spreading on his face. “You actually have a crush on that volcano?” 

“Don’t tell anybody!” Hinata pleaded, clinging to the front of Tsukishima’s shirt and not letting go as much as the blond tried to shake him off. “Please! I...I want to deal with it on my own time. Please…”

Tsukishima, had he truly been heartless, would have picked up Hinata by the back of the shirt like the scruff on a kitten and burst out the equipment room to proudly announce Hinata’s crush to everybody. However, he had a crush of his own, and due to his calm and collected nature, was successful in keeping it hidden. Nonetheless, if anybody had found out…

Safe to say, he had sympathy for the little orange. 

“...Fine,” Tsukishima relented, pushing him away and walking over to the ajar doors. “Just don’t rub your weird couple fights in my face when you get together.”

He rolled his eyes at Hinata’s loud declarations of gratitude, shutting the doors on the redhead’s face before walking back over to his water bottle. Since then, Kageyama had calmed down (the lack of Tsukishima’s presence possibly contributing to this). He was practicing his serves in the short break Daichi afforded them, probably because he was too busy flirting with Suga to notice the rest of the team. Was everybody on the team just interbreeding? It was kind of disgusting to Tsukishima. Who the hell would fall in love with a teammate?

“Hey, Tanaka, throw me one,” Kageyama said, motioning to the sack full of volleyballs. Tanaka nodded and tossed him a ball, which Kageyama responded to by backing up behind the line and tossing the ball into the air, jumping up, and practically spiking it onto the other side as a serve. 

Just that move, paired with the nearly slow-motion view Tsukishima’s brain tortured him with of the wind moving so swiftly to push back Kageyama’s hair to reveal his determined expression, was enough to get him to swallow his previous criticisms. 

Oh, no, he thought. Oh no no no no. No, not a crush. It’s not a crush. Just...appreciation of beauty, is all. Not that he’s attractive! He’s an ugly bastard. Yeah, that’s it. 

But as much as Tsukishima tried to convince himself that his eyes cementing on his day-one rival and sliding down his figure glowing with sweat was purely platonic, he was intelligent enough to recognize a crush when he saw one. 

So he did what he usually did with crushes (the only exception being Kuroo): avoided Kageyama at all costs. It did help that Hinata eventually confessed to Kageyama, who reluctantly confessed back and ended with them as a couple. It was literally no different to their relationship from before: they constantly fought, with Kageyama continuing to throw insults that would make any regular person cry, but Hinata only laughed and took it as an encouragement to play harder. The only difference was when they would walk back home together at night after practice, they would be holding hands. Their hands must’ve been so warm together in the snowy night. As opposed to Tsukishima, who had perpetually cold hands. And nobody to warm them.

It also helped that a few weeks later—Tsukishima’s crush on Kageyama completely gone—his lifelong friend Yamaguchi confessed to him that he’d had a crush on him since he first learned about romantic feelings. 

“So...all these years?” Tsukishima asked, breathless. 

It was a cloudless night, the moon on full display to light up the pair of friends like a stage show. It was cold enough to have their opaque breaths overlap with each other with how close Yamaguchi was to the blond, his eyes shining with wetness from his overwhelmed tears. 

“Yes,” Yamaguchi whispered, his eyes never leaving Tsukishima’s. “I...I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love you, Kei.”

A crush was one thing. But love? Yamaguchi... loved him? And not in a platonic way? As much as Tsukishima hated to admit it and never would out loud, he loved Yamaguchi as a friend. He loved their friendship and cherished it as close to his heart as his headphones. But in a romantic way...he couldn’t lie and say he never considered it. He found himself closing the gap, both physically and metaphorically, between him and Yamaguchi over the years, with the inches between them when sitting in class turning into centimeters and then millimeters. And when they had sleepovers, Tsukishima couldn’t help but turn over in his bed and watch Yamaguchi sleep. Sometimes, he’d wake up on the floor right next to Yamaguchi, who just assumed Tsukishima had sleep-walked or fallen out of bed. And he tried to convince himself of that fact so much that he thought it was true. Until now. Now he knew…

“Can you give me some time to...process all this?” he asked haltingly. His heart broke when a few tears escaped Yamaguchi’s eyes at that response. He knew very well it wasn’t the one Yamaguchi wanted. It was better to be turned down than to be kept waiting. But he physically couldn’t think at the moment from all the thoughts and flashbacks swirling in his head.

“S-sure, Kei…” Yamaguchi mumbled, wringing his hands. “Bye, then.” 

He turned away and ran as fast as he could home. Tsukishima knew they both lived in the same neighborhood, so he’d give Yamaguchi a running start before he began to walk home to prevent any more awkwardness. Besides, he couldn’t imagine walking with the way his legs were shaking. 

 —

The next night after practice, their sweat drying down in the frigid night, they found themselves in the exact same position as yesterday: facing each other with tears in Yamaguchi’s eyes.

“Really?” Yamaguchi breathed in disbelief, clutching his hands into excited fists. 

“Yeah, Tadashi,” Tsukishima replied, cracking a rare shy smile. “I really like you. I...I want to try this out.” 

That was all Yamaguchi needed before he threw his arms around Tsukishima’s neck and pulled him in close, joining their lips that were so chapped, but it didn’t matter to him. All he knew was that he was kissing the best friend he’d loved since they were old enough to have abstract thought. And he wasn’t about to let go anytime soon.

All Tsukishima knew was that this kiss was...different. Different than the only kiss he’d ever had before. This kiss wasn’t bad—in fact, he found himself wrapping his arms around Yamaguchi’s waist and pulling him closer until their chests pressed together, cocking his head to the side to deepen the kiss. But a flash of Kuroo’s face made him gasp and pull away, lifting the back of his hand to his lips. 

“Did...did I do something wrong?” Yamaguchi asked in such a small voice, Tsukishima immediately went to reassure him. 

“No, no, it was just...overwhelming,” he replied quickly, adding in a small awkward chuckle which made Yamaguchi’s face brighten. 

“I’m glad,” Yamaguchi whispered, nervously picking at his hangnails. “N-not at you being overwhelmed, but that I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“You weren’t,” Tsukishima whispered back, his face reddening to match the rose bush across from them. “At all.”

In fact, it was all his fault for imagining the black-haired upperclassman who refused to leave his mind, even after all these months. He was probably succeeding heavily in his new job, had a girlfriend—or a wife, who knew? Maybe he had some mini Kuroos running around. The thought made him nauseous. But why? He had his own boyfriend now. So why was he still thinking about that stupid kiss with that stupid Kuroo?

“Let’s go home,” Tsukishima offered, to which Yamaguchi furiously nodded. 

“Yeah,” he replied, slipping his hand into Tsukishima’s, their fingers lacing together. He ran his thumb over his knuckles, which gave Tsukishima the impression that Yamaguchi had been imagining every single second of how this confession would go. 

“Let’s go,” Yamaguchi murmured, pressing a kiss to Tsukishima’s cheek while standing on his toes. 

 They dated for the rest of high school, sharing all their firsts together. Minus Tsukishima’s first kiss. That was still reserved for the devil named Kuroo who still haunted his dreams instead of his boyfriend. They are right, though: time really does heal all wounds. It didn’t take long for Kuroo to disappear from Tsukishima’s mind. From homework to tests to volleyball to Yamaguchi, he simply didn’t have enough brainpower to focus on the man who was probably already married. That logic ended with his dreams. And he’d rather die than admit he still dreamed about anybody other than his boyfriend. 

They went to the movies, had picnics, ice skated, laughed, and kissed. When they weren’t on formal dates, they hung out just like they did as before when they were just friends: at school or in each other’s bedrooms, playing on their phones absentmindedly or helping each other with their DS games. The only exception being their bedroom doors had to be left open, per their parents’ instructions. But that didn’t stop them from doing exactly what their parents were trying to prevent in their third and last year in school. 

“Are you sure about this?” Yamaguchi asked breathlessly, his breath having been sucked out by the near ten-minute makeout session they were having before he pushed Tsukishima onto the bed and wavered over him. 

Tsukishima only nodded, not having any courage to confirm out loud. His face was beet-red, and it only got redder when he felt Yamaguchi’s lips on his neck, chest, stomach, and beyond. The entire time, he hid his face with his arms and silenced himself, only letting out occasional whimpers and pants. It ended with both of them satisfied and with Tsukishima wordlessly clinging to Yamaguchi’s side. That was something new he learned about himself: he could be very clingy. And Yamaguchi was more than pleased to learn this. 

However, he wasn’t afforded the same luxury of hiding away evidence of his pleasure the next time, with Yamaguchi physically ripping away Tsukishima’s arms from his face in order to look at his boyfriend in all his glory. After that time, Tsukishima boycotted cuddling with Yamaguchi...for the first ten minutes. Then his need for physical closeness overruled any grudge he had. 

He was happy.  

 —

They wasted no time making up for all the sex they could’ve had the last two years where they only had clandestine makeout sessions and subtle clothed grinding. But it wasn’t just because they were horny, but because it was their last year. Their last year until they eventually split because they had drastically different life plans. 

Kageyama and Hinata had already split up a month ago. Asahi and Noya had a very saccharine one year of dating until they split because of the long-distance after Asahi graduated. Suga and Daichi dated only for a month before splitting and graduating, if you could call going on one date and making out and grinding against a wall dating. It was only a matter of time before he and Yamaguchi did the same. All eyes were on them. Well, that was an exaggeration, but that’s what it felt like for Tsukishima. 

Which made it all even worse when he found out his feelings weren’t mutual. 

“What? You want to...break up?” Yamaguchi asked in such a broken voice that Tsukishima wanted to act like it was a prank. But he couldn’t. 

“I’m just thinking about the future, Tadashi,” he replied, trying to keep his voice level, but just that felt cruel juxtaposed against Yamaguchi’s crumbling exterior. 

“The future?” Yamaguchi asked, his voice breaking yet again. His confused face fell into despair, his under eyes seeming to sink inches into his face. His eyes fell down to his wringing hands in front of him. “Right...the future.”

“Yeah, I mean, it just—”

“Have you thought—” Yamaguchi interrupted, his eyes still fixated on his hands. “—that maybe I thought you were my future? That we are the future? You’re the love of my life, Kei. I could never just leave you.”

That hit Tsukishima like a train. No, a bullet. No, a bullet train. He physically recoiled, his hand gripping his sweatshirt. 

“I-I—” How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? “We’re going to be across the country. You’ll be in Sapporo, and I’ll be in Fukuoka. It’s just too far.”

“Oh, well,” Yamaguchi said, trying to sound casual, but the big gobs of tears running down his cheeks were a dead giveaway that he was, in fact, not casual. “We h-had a good run.” 

Tsukishima raised his hand slowly to see if Yamaguchi would object, and when he didn’t, he brushed his hot tears away with his thumb. They were so salty, they burned the cuts volleyball gave him on his fingers and palm. 

“The best,” he murmured before leaning down and kissing away Yamaguchi’s tears, ignoring the burning as they slipped into the cracks in his lips. He moved them away from his cheeks to his boyfriend—now ex’s—lips, giving him one last tender kiss before standing back up and beginning his long, tearful trek home. He never cried. Keyword: never . And yet he was bawling like a baby the entire way home, only stopped when he had to walk past his parents before collapsing on the floor of his bedroom and crying until his voice was raw and he ran out of tears. 

Graduation didn’t occur too long after that. He and Yamaguchi had stayed tentative friends, especially since Tsukishima wouldn’t have literally anybody to talk to if they hadn’t. He was going to a university close to Fukuoka, focusing on archaeology. He signed up for the intramural volleyball team, the sport being the only love in his life other than Yamaguchi. Despite them being broken up, he still deeply loved and would always love Yamaguchi. Perhaps in another life, or even a few years...who knew? His motto was always “you never know what will happen.” So after saying goodbye to Yamaguchi and Hinata and tipping his chin up in a mutual agreement to never talk to each other again to Kageyama, he thought those were all the friends he had left at the school. The rest had already graduated, and he didn’t really think of them as friends. Not that he thought Hinata and Kageyama were friends.

Bokuto still tried to get in touch with him, but all his face reminded him of was Kuroo. And he seriously thought he was over that pain in the ass after four years. Plus, Bokuto had his own career and tax-evasion to deal with. Almost every time he tried to call Tsukishima, the call was interrupted by the tax service calling him. So when Bokuto called him up a week after graduation, he just counted the minutes until he had to hang up. However, it seemed as if Bokuto knew about his limited phone time, so he got the information out as quickly as possible.

“Hey, so we’re thinking of rounding up all the members of the dream team—Karasuno, Nekoma, Fukurodani, the works—up for a reunion!” he spat out, barely giving Tsukishima enough time to react before launching into the details of the meetup. 

“Anyway, see you there!” Click.

Tsukishima blinked. He blinked again. The third time he blinked, it all registered in his mind. 

Kuroo might be there.

He shamelessly RSVP’d to Bokuto’s email immediately afterward. 

 —

He wasn’t exactly given the dress code for the event, so he played it safe with a simple deep violet button-down and black slacks. He wore his father’s expensive Rolex watch and a thick black belt as if trying to convey to the others that he was already so successful after just graduating. “To the others,” i.e. Kuroo. He stared at himself in the mirror, fixing his glasses for the umpteenth time, only looking away once he thought his ear was melting off his face from staring too long at himself. Finally, once his brother yelled at him to get out of the bathroom, he grabbed his car keys and drove to the homey bar downtown where they sometimes visited after practice games to stock up on carbs and protein. It gave him both PTSD and déjà vu. 

He took off his shoes at the entrance and slipped into the slippers they provided, but he nearly fell from tripping at the loud, familiar laughter that echoed throughout the bar. That could only be—

“Beanpole!” Tanaka yelled for the entire bar to turn and witness the drunkard ambling like a toddler up to the blond, slinging his arm around his shoulders as he nursed a bottle of beer. “What’s up, man? I didn’t think you’d have the cojones to show up here!”

“I will never miss you saying that word,” Tsukishima muttered, only earning him another loud bark of laughter. He groaned and pushed Tanaka off him, being caught by Kiyoko. 

Hm, they seem to be going strong.

Perhaps not every high school relationship fell apart after high school or long-distance. He ignored the thought for now since he knew it would cause him to fall into a deep depression over his need to break up with Yamaguchi for that very reason. He didn’t need that in the middle of a bar, especially since he was sober. 

All his former teammates and rivals were sat around three tables joined together, all laughing and clinking drinks and screaming ‘Banzai!’ until their voices went hoarse. Tsukishima’s eyes scanned the rowdy bar-goers: no sign of who he was waiting for. Yamaguchi noticed him immediately. That wasn’t a huge change from their high school years; he had grown a sort of sixth sense to sense when Tsukishima was around and then to provide him company, even though he looked as if he despised it. He never did. 

“Hi, Kei,” Yamaguchi greeted timidly, as if he was scared of his lifelong best friend. They were best friends above all, from when they were boyfriends to now that they’re exes. So that hurt Tsukishima even more than he was already in pain. He was lucky if he didn’t walk away with a shriveled heart by the end of this. 

He sat down next to Yamaguchi and crossed his legs, smiling at him politely. He had learned to smile more with Yamaguchi—not because Yamaguchi told him to, but because it had happened so gradually and naturally he had barely noticed it until his mother pointed it out. 

“What’ve you been doing this week after graduation?” he asked, trying to make polite conversation, but it was obvious that he was a little tipsy. 

“Ooh, nothing,” he slurred. 

Okay, more than a little tipsy. 

“Just, hehe—” He made a jerking up-and-down motion with his hand, which caused a red blush to overtake Tsukishima’s face at the connotations and the fact that Yamaguchi was being so brazen with his insinuations. “—and looking at internships. Trade school, maybe. I never figured it out in school. I was too busy with...you know.”

His eyes dropped to Tsukishima’s butt before flicking back up to those horrified brown eyes. 

“I love baking,” he continued as if he didn’t just say something to get the teammates around them snickering. “Maybe I’ll work at a bakery.” 

“It...fits you,” Tsukishima replied, still reeling from the neverending suggestive comments his friend just made. 

“Hey, Yams, if those scones you brought us that one practice are any indication, I’m gonna spend all my money on your bakery,” Nishinoya butted in before taking a long swig of beer, being goaded on by Tanaka and Bokuto. 

“Heh, thanks,” Yamaguchi mumbled, a blush spreading on his cheeks. 

Oh, so that’s what gets you blushing?

Tsukishima got lost in the conversation, especially when more and more alcohol was placed in front of him. He got so lost, in fact, he would have completely missed the doors to the pub opening to reveal the main reason he came to the reunion in the first place. The only thing that pulled him out of his mental fog was Bokuto’s dramatic gasp and sprint to the door to envelop the dark-haired figure in a bear hug. 

“Enough, enough—get off me, Bokuto!” Kuroo yelled, bonking Bokuto on the head as a last resort. 

“Is that any way to say hello to the love of your life?” Bokuto asked tearfully, batting his eyelashes as Kuroo rolled his eyes. 

“Sorry, lovey,” Kuroo grumbled, hooking Bokuto by the back of the neck and pulling him in to kiss him on the cheek. “Better now?”

Bokuto giggled and nodded. “Yeeahh.”

Kuroo turned to his side, and oh, Tsukishima barely recognized him without the awful dye job. 

“Get jealous there, Kenma?” Kuroo asked with a wink, to which Kenma rolled his eyes and went back to typing on his phone. Kuroo immediately reached forward and yanked the phone out of Kenma’s hands, pocketing it quickly. “I said no phone tonight.”

“You say that every night,” Kenma mumbled as they walked over to the table. 

Tsukishima physically could not tear his eyes away from Tetsurou Kuroo. He looked so...handsome. So beautiful. Genuinely. He looked almost the same, and yet there was a certain aura around him that screamed ‘successful’ and ‘confident’ and ‘good-natured soul.’ He thought Kuroo was attractive in high school…

Oh, he was drooling. 

As he wiped his mouth with a napkin, he secretly prayed that Kuroo wouldn’t go anywhere close to him. But that was too much to ask for, apparently, since Kuroo sat right across from him. It was as if he made a beeline just for Tsukishima. Could he maybe still…? No, it was just a coincidence. 

“Hey, Kei,” Kuroo said before dissolving into laughter. “Ha, the rhyme never gets old.”

Tsukishima forced on a pained smile, but it wasn’t because the joke wasn’t funny. Well, it wasn’t, but he’d gotten used to the cringiness of it long ago. No, just having Kuroo in the same vicinity was enough to get him sweating profusely, nevermind right across from him, talking to him. 

“How are you doing?” Kuroo continued, pouring two glasses of sake.

Get ahold of yourself.

“I should be asking you that,” Tsukishima replied with a nervous laugh, about to reach forward for one of the glasses until Kenma reached for it first. He only processed how awkward it was that his hand was just wavering above the table, so he quickly wrapped it around an empty beer bottle and acted as if it was full. 

“Ah, I’m boring,” Kuroo said with a dismissive wave. “Same old, same old.”

“And what is that ‘same old, same old’?” Tsukishima asked, swirling the last drops of beer around the bottle. His entire body was warm. He set down the beer bottle to take off his coat, and he could’ve sworn he saw Kuroo’s eyes give him a once-over before returning to his face. Just the thought caused him to heat up even more. At this rate, he’d be stripped naked by the end of the night. Well, if it meant Kuroo’s eyes would be on him—

Wow, he was drunk. 

“Well, office work, mostly,” Kuroo explained with a shrug. “Being a software developer is a lot more boring than it sounds.” 

“Are you still playing volleyball?” Tsukishima asked hesitantly, his eyes focused on the table because otherwise, he’d be staring very creepily at the man in front of him. 

“Every once in a while when I can get out of the office,” Kuroo replied. “At the local gym. I’ve found a couple of guys.”

“Oh, cool,” Tsukishima said with a bob of his head. 

What a lame response.

“Any cuties at work?” he blurted out, and woah, he would take a lame response over the abomination that just left his mouth. He looked down at the beer bottle he was just drinking from to see if it was accidentally pure vodka. 

Kuroo seemed more taken aback than Tsukishima himself, which made him want to wallow in self-pity even more.

“Oh, uh—” Kuroo laughed, although it didn’t seem nervous. “No, I’ve actually had my eye on somebody for a while.”

“For a while?” Tsukishima repeated, his eyes brimming with hope. His chest felt as if it would burst. He didn’t imagine their mutual love confession being in the middle of a bar with everybody nearly blackout drunk and falling over themselves, but as long as it happened, he’d be over the moon. He very conspicuously leaned forward and over the table, his eyes dropping to Kuroo’s lips. 

“Yeah,” Kuroo replied slowly, his eyes also dropping to Tsukishima’s lips. 

This is it, this is it, this is—

“Your eye on somebody? Really? You’re so romantic,” Kenma interrupted sarcastically, so rudely interrupting the moment Tsukishima and Kuroo were having. “It almost makes me forget our anniversary is next week.”

Anniversary…?

“What, you can’t catch my eye?” Oh, God, Kuroo was resorting to baby talk. He lifted a hand and cupped the side of Kenma’s face, and only then was it glaringly obvious that Tsukishima was horribly, horribly wrong. To add insult to injury, the golden band that suddenly appeared on Kuroo’s ring finger glinted atrociously in the light, as if bragging to Tsukishima that it wasn’t his. 

“Mmmm,” Kenma hummed absentmindedly, burying his face back in his phone, which he magically got back from Kuroo’s pocket. 

“This is why I married you,” Kuroo replied, earning a bout of whooping and happy shouting from amongst the other guests in celebration of the announcement. But Tsukishima was silent. And stone cold. 

Without a word, he stood up and tossed his jacket over his shoulder before promptly walking out of the bar into the cool air, but it did nothing to calm the rage and shame mixing pitifully in his chest. He had seriously thought that...with Kuroo...and he would…

I’m such a fucking idiot. 

He kicked a rock into the street, which instantly got run over by a car. That’s exactly what Tsukishima’s heart felt like. Crushed ruthlessly. 

The opening of the bar door caused him to turn, revealing Yamaguchi stumbling out with near sobriety. His body hadn’t quite caught up, though. 

“Hey, where’d you go?” Yamaguchi asked, walking straight up to Tsukishima until he could smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“I just needed some air,” he explained, looking up at the sky and how his condensed breath clouded it temporarily until it dissipated. 

“You know I know when you lie, Kei,” Yamaguchi replied, raising a brow before his face dawned with realization. “Was it Kuroo? Did he say something?”

“I—no, it’s nothing. It was just really hot,” Tsukishima said, waving Yamaguchi away. “Now go back, you’re missing the fun.”

“What, missing Tanaka throw up on Bokuto and try to clean it up himself and make it worse?” Yamaguchi joked. “Yeah, no thanks.” 

They stayed silent for a moment more before Yamaguchi’s soft voice broke the silence. 

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Yamaguchi asked, which immediately caught Tsukishima’s attention. Yamaguchi shoved his hands deep into his pockets and sighed. “It was always him.” 

“I...don’t know what—”

“Don’t lie to me, Kei!” Yamaguchi shouted, not caring about the passerby giving them strange looks. “I’ve always seen the way you look at him. Ever since that damn training camp...I thought that maybe, maybe I was just making it up because I was insecure, especially when you said you liked me back. But…”

Why did it always end up this way? With Yamaguchi crying his eyes out and spilling out his heart and Tsukishima dying of guilt? 

“But you never looked at me the way you looked at Kuroo just now. N-never.” Yamaguchi sniffled and wiped his eyes, but more tears just replaced the others. “Was I just...a replacement? Somebody to have fun with before moving on to somebody else? Was that it?”

“Tadashi, no—”

“Nevermind,” Yamaguchi interrupted, shaking his head emphatically. “I don’t want to know. I’ve already beat myself up enough after you broke up with me. I just...I hope you are happy, Kei. Or at least, I hope you get happy. I hope you find somebody who makes you as happy as Kuroo made you.” 

He smiled, but it was so pained that it felt like thousands of little needles were sticking straight in Tsukishima’s chest. 

“It’s okay, Kei. It’s okay.” Yamaguchi got on his toes one last time and pressed a long, tender, and tragic kiss onto Tsukishima’s cheek, wet with tears. Only then did he realize he was crying. 

“I’ll see you at the next reunion, okay?” Yamaguchi said softly, smoothing out Tsukishima’s shirt. “We’ll both be happy, Tsukishima.”

“I was always happy with you, Tadashi,” Tsukishima croaked, basically pleading for Yamaguchi to listen to him. 

Yamaguchi said nothing. Instead, he nodded curtly, pat Tsukishima’s chest, and walked back into the bar. Not long after, he walked back out with his coat, sparing Tsukishima another glance before getting in a taxi and leaving far away from the site of so many happy moments and one horrible, awful, disastrous moment. 

Tsukishima was getting ready to leave before the creaking of the bar door caused him to pause, but he didn’t turn his head. It was probably just a stranger, so he continued to search his pockets for his car keys, coming up empty. 

“Searching for these?”

A metallic jingle accompanied the voice, belonging to none other than his car keys and Kuroo himself. 

Tsukishima made sure the last of his tears were wiped away, but he still felt that his cheeks were burning and his eyes were bloodshot. 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Tsukishima held out his hand and looked down at the sidewalk, awaiting the weight of the car keys in his hand, but it never came, forcing him to look back up and be met with Kuroo’s incredibly close figure who was currently smirking. 

“Why are you leaving so early? You just got here,” he asked, raising a brow in suspicion. 

“I just got tired,” he explained quickly, motioning to the car keys. “Please.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Kuroo sang, shaking his head. “Aren’t you drunk?”

“Please.” Before long, Kuroo’s teasing got very old, and Tsukishima couldn’t hold himself back from blowing up. “Please give me my keys!”

Kuroo, for the second time that night, was taken aback. It reminded him of the good old days when he would be taken aback with every word Tsukishima said because he expected him to never talk, and when he did, it was always a jab at somebody. He found it amusing, but in this moment, he found it terrifying. 

“Tsukki, no way,” Kuroo objected sternly, stuffing the keys in his pocket. “You’re drunk. I’ll drive you home after this; just come back inside.”

“No!” Without thinking, Tsukishima grabbed Kuroo and drove him deeper into an alleyway, throwing him against the wall and shooting his arm out to try and dig his keys out, but Kuroo blocked him in every way possible. “Just let me get my keys!”

“If you want to leave so bad, let me call a—”

“Don’t you understand? Are you that fucking stupid, or are you just blind?” Tsukishima was crying again by now, his face glistening with new tears thanks to the moon shining straight above them. “Let me leave, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“What’s your issue, man?” Kuroo asked, but it was less of a question and more of demand. He continued to hold Tsukishima’s keys hostage, which made him even more desperate to get them. He clawed at Kuroo’s chest, practically falling on top of him with how his legs were failing him.

“Do you seriously not remember? Or notice anything? I don’t remember you being this idiotic,” Tsukishima yelled, and he watched as Kuroo’s face morphed from confusion to calm realization. 

“...That was nearly four years ago, Kei,” Kuroo said. This time his voice was low, rumbling deep in his chest, and Tsukishima could feel it through his hands. 

“And I never stopped thinking about it! I never stopped thinking about you. You did this to me. You made me fall—” He hesitated, but he had already gone too far. Time to come clean about everything. “You made me fall in love with you! It’s all your fault, and now I have to deal with the consequences. You won’t leave my head no matter what I try. And now you’re fucking married? Did I mean nothing to you? You never...you never talked to me again after that. I…” He raised a trembling hand to his face, hiding it as best he could. “I’ve loved you for so long, it’s ruined my entire life.”

Kuroo was dead silent. The alleyway was silent other than the ambient noise filtering in from the entrance of the alley, of traffic and passerby and animals. The only sound between them was Tsukishima’s panicked panting, trying to get ahold of his own breath, and his strained weeping.

“You’ve always loved me,” Kuroo repeated, and Tsukishima let out a pitiful cry just at the sound of Kuroo saying those words. Kuroo pushed Tsukishima away but only to look him square in the face. “You never contacted me, Tsukki. I was just giving you space to figure things out.”

“I-I-I—” He didn’t have any excuses for that. All he wanted to do was blame everybody around him for his out-of-control feelings other than himself.

How’s that working out for you, Kei?

“Tsukki,” Kuroo started, and just hearing him use that nickname after so long in that low voice made Tsukishima nearly melt. “Tsukki, you were always like a little brother to me. I—”

A pathetic yelp erupted from Tsukishima’s throat at hearing that. Just that sentence alone was enough to kill him entirely. 

“But—”

There weren’t any buts. He was now just a walking husk of a man, rejected by the man he’d been yearning after for years, had devoted his dreams and daydreams to just to get by in high school. 

“But I’ve never stopped thinking about it,” Kuroo finished. “I never stopped thinking about you. I never forgot about you, Kei. Or what could’ve happened.”

“What could’ve happened…” Tsukishima gasped and clutched Kuroo’s hand, another burst of excitement swelling in him. “Y-you mean—”

“No, Kei, I’m happily married,” Kuroo clarified, showing off that dastardly ring that mocked him in all its beauty. “If we did get together, I know it wouldn’t have lasted very long. But I do know we would’ve been happy during that time. Until we found true happiness in somebody else.”

“Which…” Tsukishima winced, “is what you did.”

Kuroo nodded sagely. “And you will, too. You don’t have to forget me, Kei. You just have to find somebody who doesn’t make you look back on me with regret but with thankfulness that you got to a point where you found somebody you love more than me.” He reached up and caressed the side of Tsukishima’s wet cheek, stroking the red skin with his thumb. “You’ll always be my beanpole middle blocker.”

And you’ll always be my pain-in-the-ass captain.

“I’m gonna go call you a cab,” Kuroo said, motioning to the end of the alleyway they came from. “I’ll see you later, Tsukki. Take care.”

With that, he leaned forward and pressed a soft, short kiss onto Tsukishima’s forehead, leaving him in the alley to wallow in his own tears and self-pity until the cab he called showed up. The entire cab ride, he never let go of his forehead, wanting to preserve the warmth on his skin for as long as possible. 

And when he got home, he realized Kuroo had kept his car keys. 

Did he do this on purpose?

 —

The next day, after taking pain meds for the killer headache assaulting his mind and cringing sufficiently over his actions last night, he finally mustered up the courage to call Kuroo.

The line rang two times before Kuroo picked up. 

“Hey.” His voice was like molasses in the morning. “Calling for your car keys?”

“Yes,” Tsukishima replied, coolly as he always did. 

“I’ll see you after work,” was all Kuroo said before hanging up. 

When Kuroo showed up later that night, he brought somebody familiar with him.

“Sorry about not telling you, but I needed somebody to drive me back,” Kuroo said, motioning to the tall man beside him.

“Is that…” Tsukishima’s eyes raked over the man’s figure before settling on his eyebrows—or rather, lack of them. 

“Aone,” he finished for Tsukishima, bowing in greeting. “It’s very nice to see you again, Tsukishima.”

“Enough with the formalities, Aone, geez,” Kuroo joked, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “Well, anyway, here are your keys. I gotta go drop Aone off at a single’s night at a nightclub. Because, you know, he’s single.”

Aone blushed. Tsukishima never thought he’d see the day this concrete block of a man blush. It was...endearing in a way. 

“No need to advertise it,” Aone whispered under his breath, which made Tsukishima chuckle sympathetically. Kuroo’s eyes shone.

“Well, anyway, gotta go,” Kuroo said, motioning to the car and tossing Tsukishima the keys, which he barely caught in time since his eyes were stuck on a certain man.

“W-wait,” Tsukishima said, reaching out to get them to stop. “Single’s club? Um...is it any fun?”

Kuroo laughed his usual devil laugh that sounded more annoying than cute now. 

“Of course it is, it’s a club,” Kuroo said matter-of-factly. “But I’m sure it’s not your speed.”

Tsukishima paused and looked down at his feet before admitting, “I, uh, can try it out.”

“Oh,” Kuroo said as if he had just been given a critical piece of evidence. “Aone, did you hear that?”

“I’m not deaf.”

“Alright, Tsukki, go get dressed because those pajamas are tacky,” Kuroo demanded, waving Tsukishima away.

He sneered and turned his nose up as he turned his back on the former captain. “Bokuto is rubbing off on you.”

“Never say that to me again.” 

Tsukishima held back laughter as he ran back inside, an uncontrollable grin forming on his face. And for the first time after an interaction with Kuroo, he wasn’t the person that stayed in his mind as he left. Tsukishima himself was the man he was thinking about, about how excited he was getting at the possibility of meeting new people. That never happened before because, well...his heart had always been reserved for Kuroo. 

Now it was open, open to everybody. Including himself. 

#haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #fanfic #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x tsukki #kuroo x tsukishima #tsukishima kei #kenma #tsukishima fanfiction #angst #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot #fluff #hurt comfort

[fanfalc-616]

Time for Amnesia

Chapter Ten: “Don’t Make Me Repeat Myself.”

(Previous Chapter Here)

Yeah sorry for the mix up here’s the chapter I finally wrote after like 6 months-

Something pokes his face.

Blinking groggily, Kai looks around. Where the hell is he this time? What’s going on?

It takes him a few moments to realize that he’s stuck in some kind of prison cell, laying uncomfortably on the floor.

Jay pokes him again. “Are you awake yet?” He prompts.

Kai immediately gets to his feet, cursing at the stone walls lined with metal and the way the sole window is in the door, a set of bars through it for extra security.

“Yeah, we’re kinda stuck. Captured. The others probably have no idea where we are or who kidnapped us- we don’t even know who kidnapped us.” Jay gives a quiet laugh- one more out of fear than humor.

“We’re gonna die. This is it. We’re just going to get murdered here. Are we even going to find out who captured us? I mean probably, but we’ll be killed immediately after. I’d say we haunt them as ghosts, but after seeing what that did to Cole, I’d rather be in an afterlife. I think. I’ll have to ask him what being a ghost was really like- or I would, if we had the chance to see him before getting murdered!” Jay’s clearly panicking, and- hey, isn’t he supposed to be the experienced one here?!

Kai stares at him for a few moments. “We- we’re not gonna die.” His voice is shaky, but he tries to ignore that as he goes up to the barred window in the door. No, he won’t die, he refuses to die. This can’t be how it ends, with him not even knowing who he is! That’s not fair!

He wills his fire into his hands, but nothing happens. Scowling, he tries again, but for some reason, it still doesn’t work.

Ugh, come on, he did this before without even really thinking about it! Why is it so hard to do now?!

“Jay, blast this thing with lightning!” He instructs. “We can figure out where to go from there.”

Jay looks unimpressed. “It’s vengestone. You can’t use elemental powers when there’s vengestone.” He sounds tired, and Kai gives him a glare.

“Would you mind picking an emotion and sticking with it? Panic or calm or annoying or whatever? I’m not in the mood to navigate whatever the hell is going on in your head.”

He ignores the sputtering noise the ginger makes in response in favor of looking closer at the bars of the cell they’re in. There’s gotta be something he can do here…

Unfortunately, if there actually is something he can do, he can’t figure out what it is. Which is bullshit, but something tells him this is how his life usually ends up going.

With a grimace, he looks back at Jay. “Do you know who captured us? Or why?”

The other shrugs, which only serves to fuel his annoyance. “No idea,” he admits, “but they’re probably trying to keep us from stopping them from doing something evil.”

For a few moments, all he can do is stare. Seriously? This is what he’s working with here? What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

“That’s super helpful, thanks,” he grumbles sarcastically, silently lamenting his past self. Why would he hang out with these people to begin with? Sure, they said something about him needing to rescue Nya, but couldn’t he have just left afterwards? Why would he let himself get put into these situations?

“Look, we- we’re probably gonna be fine.” Jay assures. “It’s just- uh. I tend to overreact a lot. It’s gonna be okay, I just freak out easy.” He sounds uncertain of himself, and Kai resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Like I said: pick an emotion and stick to it,” he snaps, turning away again. This entire situation is infuriating as it is, he really doesn’t need Jay pissing him off more.

Shaking his head, Kai comes to a conclusion. He doesn’t know what’s going down here, but whatever it is needs to hurry up and just happen.

Narrowing his eyes, he takes a step back, trying to dig back into those forgotten memories. He knows how to fight, doesn’t he? Why can't he remember it?!

With a huff, he comes to a decision. He’ll give this a shot and hope that his muscle memory will take care of it.

“Kai?” Jay speaks up behind him, but Kai ignores him in favor of taking a deep breath, preparing himself.

“Kai, I don’t think-“

Summoning all of the rage and frustration inside of him, Kai moves forward, kicking the door with as much strength as he can muster.

But even with all the force in his hit, the door only rattles against its hinges in response.

As a matter of fact, the only real result is the red-hot pain that’s suddenly jolting up his leg.

The high-pitched yelp that escapes him is just plain embarrassing, and as if to damage his pride more, he ends up stumbling backwards, falling flat on his ass against the stone floor.

“Ow,” he grumbles, grabbing his foot instinctively. Damn, that hurt a lot more than he thought it would- well, actually, he wasn’t expecting it to hurt at all. In the movies, the door would’ve just swung right open.

But this isn’t a movie. This is real.

The sudden understanding hits him like a bucket of ice water.

He keeps not thinking, he keeps just acting, but this isn’t a game. He knows nothing about what’s going on, he doesn’t know what enemies he has, and all he’s done so far is alienate the people who he needs to stay alive.

Jay pries his hands off of his foot, and Kai feels himself flinch. When had he gotten that close?

“Alright, uh, maybe don’t do that again.” The ginger suggests. “It doesn’t look too bad, but there’s probably gonna be a few bruises.”

Grimacing, Kai nods. “Okay,” he agrees, ignoring the frustration boiling in his chest.

He can’t afford to keep doing this. Like it or not, this is his situation. If he keeps this up, he’s going to get himself killed. He needs to work with the allies his past self had made- he has them for a reason.

That doesn’t make them any less annoying, though.

Jay seems surprised- probably because he didn’t snap at him. Well, actually, if he’s being honest, he probably needs to do something to fix whatever damage he had done to their relationship since he woke up.

Not romantically, though. He doesn’t even want to think about that.

Gritting his teeth, he abandons his pride- for the moment, at least. “I was being mean to you earlier. ‘m sorry.” He mutters the words in a low growl, refusing to look at the other while he does.

Even though his eyes are on the floor, he can still tell how startled Jay is. Which is honestly fair- Kai hasn’t exactly been the nicest since he woke up.

“What?”

Flashing him a glare, Kai struggles to keep his temper under control. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he snaps.

He has to get along with these people, sure- he doesn’t have a choice- but would it really hurt for them to be less annoying? Or is that just their personalities?

Jay opens his mouth to reply, but just then, there’s a weird slithering noise coming down the hall, growing closer. Silently, they exchange a glance. The ginger seems to be trying to tell him something, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out what.

Quickly pulling the two of them to their feet, Jay grabs him by the arm and pushes him against the wall by the door. Once he has, he takes a few steps back, staring out the window definitely.

It takes a moment before that clicks- if the door is opened, anything on the other side won’t be able to immediately see him. Of course, it comes with the risk of getting a bloody nose, but-

The noise stops just outside the door, and even though Kai can’t see past the bars where he is, he can at least see the ginger’s almost shocked expression.

“Hello there, ninja. Long time no see, hm?”

Taking half a step back and clenching his fists, Jay seems to be trying to swallow back his fear. “Ha, with that ugly mug, I wish it’d been longer!” He snaps.

“And you are still as unoriginal as always, it seems,” the stranger tsks, sounding amused. “But I suppose I must ask, what happened to that little fire-starting friend of yours? He was in here earlier, I know.”

Kai feels himself tense, but Jay doesn’t even glance in his direction. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” He finishes the words off with a hesitant smirk, but then pauses. “Well, I mean, I guess technically I’m the one with the lightning powers… but I’m still not telling you anything!”

There’s another pause, and after a few moments of it, Jay huffs, narrowing his eyes. “I see that someone doesn't know their memes, huh?”

“Yes, well, some of us are actually intelligent. But that is… besides the point. I wasn’t aiming for the two of you in particular for this, but I suppose you’ll do.”

This time, Jay does glance towards Kai, a poorly-hidden terrified look on his face for the split second their eyes meet.

“So he’s just beside the door, then? Hmm. I suppose I had a bit too high of an opinion of you both to think one of you could have escaped,” the stranger chuckles again, somehow making it sound even more insulting than before. “But then again, I most likely would have caught him again anyway.”

Kai can feel his breathing catch at the words, his entire body tensing with apprehension.

Who even is this guy?!

Jay scoffs, but he’s still clearly stressed out. “Don’t flatter yourself, Pythor. We’ve beaten you before, and we’ll do it again!”

Alright, so their name is Pythor. If Kai didn’t know any better, he’d say that that kind of name would belong to a serpentine. But serpentine are just an old bedtime story, so they can’t be-

Well, it wasn’t long ago he thought the same thing about magic. So it might be possible. But it still doesn’t sound-

Wait. When Lloyd was telling him about the volcano… he mentioned serpentine, didn’t he? And- and this Pythor guy specifically!

… and this serves to show that Kai should really pay more attention to what these guys talk about.

Speaking of which, he should probably tune back in to whatever’s going on with Jay and Pythor now.

“-can’t be serious. I mean, I knew you were crazy, but this is a whole new level, even for you. Didn’t someone actually say that the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results? I don’t remember who, but my point stands! You-“

“Yes, well, I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter. I do, however, have other questions I would like answers to.” The words are spoken threateningly, intense enough that Kai can feel himself shudder.

Jay, however, looks unaffected- actually, he looks like he’s starting to calm down from his earlier panic. “And why would we give them to you?”

Fear still coiled in his guts, Kai forces himself to take deep breaths. This doesn’t look good, and Jay just seems to be escalating the situation. And Kai would try to do the opposite but one: he doesn’t know how. Two: he’s pretty sure Pythor wouldn’t listen. And three: he has a very intense desire to punch this guy in the face. There’s not really a reason, he’s just annoying and sounds really punchable.

“Well, blue ninja, I think you’ll find it’s because you don’t have a say in the matter. One way or another, I-“

Fuck it.

Shoving his rational thoughts to the side, Kai quickly sidesteps in front of the door. And- yeah, that’s definitely a serpentine. Still, he doesn’t let himself dwell on that. If anything, the long neck is a plus.

Because it’s that much easier to reach through the bars and grab.

Hand tight around Pythor’s throat, he yanks him into the door, forcing his head to slam against it with a very satisfying smack.

Kai lets himself smirk as he lets go, expecting the snake to collapse to the floor from the force of the hit.

Instead, he finds himself staring into infuriated magenta eyes.

Oh. Okay.

Kai may have made a mistake.

#ninjago fanfiction #time for amnesia au #fanfiction

[pastelsandpining]

My Only Wish (Naughty or Nice)

The fifth prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts​

Prompt List

Cover Art: coming soon!

Words: 2087

Summary: Zelda reads about a foreign holiday called Christmas and decides to bring to life one of the traditions for the other Champions. She’ll need a red suit and a bag of gifts, but luckily she knows just the person to pull off the holly, jolly Santa Claus.

BotW Pre-Calamity Zelink, not AoC related!

Zelink-mas 2020  l  Masterlist

Link was beginning to wonder if the pressure was getting to the princess. She was always pushing forwards in the face of adversity, but it wasn’t her frustration and sadness that made him believe she’d finally cracked. 

It was when they took up residence in her study and she whirled on him with a book in her hands about goddesses only knew what.

“I’ve conducted some research,” she began, which was not new to him but filled him with a sense of playful dread anyway, “regarding Hylia’s Day and other holidays we celebrate here in Hyrule. We know that culture and religion are the basis of all holidays, and the difference in what is celebrated and how stems from those traditions. I was curious about the world outside of Hyrule. I thought perhaps I could read something about their beliefs and traditions that could help me awaken my power, but I found a celebration that’s incredibly similar to ours.”

She dropped the book on her desk and cracked it open, beckoning for him to join her. He stepped over, standing close enough so that when he leaned forwards to join her over the pages of the book, he could smell the flowery scent of her hair. 

He couldn’t read anything on the page. Not when his attention was taken up entirely by her. So he listened to her speak again, following her fingers dancing along the page.

“A religion referred to as Christianity celebrates something called Christmas. For worshipers of the faith, this day is celebrated as the birth of their savior. But the holiday became something widely celebrated by people not of that faith. It became a day of giving gifts and spending time with family. People decorate with trees and lights and hold grand parties. And just like how Hylia brings joy and peace to families on Hylia’s Eve, they too have a figure that travels to every corner of the world, leaving gifts for the children! Multiple sources have claimed that this figure keeps a list sorting the children into categories—meaning whether or not they’ve been naughty in the past year, or nice. Naughty children are given coal, which is quite funny really. He goes by quite a bit of names, too. Father Christmas, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle, Saint Nicholas—but they’re essentially talking about the same figure.”

“There’s a lot of similarities,” Link agreed, glancing in her direction. 

“I know what you’re thinking. What does any of this have to do with the sealing power?” Her cheeks flushed, the pink tint reaching to the tips of her ears. “Well, ah… it doesn’t. But Hylia’s Day is coming up and… and everyone’s been so down and patience is wearing thin and I thought perhaps we could do something to cheer everyone up.”

He wasn’t sure what sort of unseen force compelled him to obey the princess. Yet he couldn’t even bring himself to think that the scheme she’d come up with was absurd. He’d follow her to the ends of Hyrule should she ask him to. 

It was why he wasn’t exactly surprised to find himself accompanying Zelda and a holly, jolly Daruk across Hyrule. Though he couldn’t believe the princess had actually crafted the entirety of Father Christmas’s red outfit.

“This Sandy Claws really doesn’t know fashion,” the Goron said, adjusting the hat upon his head. “The less restrictive the clothing, the better for movement.”

“You play the part very well,” Zelda assured, patting the towering boulder on the arm. “Besides, I read that he’s quite the eater. Children leave out cookies and milk for him, so perhaps you’ll get lucky tonight.”

“If the cookies are prime, crunchy rock, then I can hardly resist. Right, brother?”

Daruk slapped him on his back, sending Link tumbling forwards. Zelda’s arms caught him, and he was quick to regain his balance with the feeling that the Goron did that on purpose.

“Besides, we’re really only visiting the other Champions. I wish we could do more, but we’re lacking the magical sleigh that can travel at the speed of light,” Zelda spoke again, tapping away at the Sheikah Slate. 

“Santa leaving Santa a gift, huh?”

“Oh, Link already took care of that. You’re not allowed to open it until the morning.”

Daruk turned to look at him, surprised. Link only shrugged with a small, only slightly smug smile.

“I’m sneaky,” he said. The Goron laughed and Link took a step closer to Zelda to prevent being slapped on the back and sent tumbling off of Death Mountain.

“So what did you deem me?” Daruk asked, his hands resting on his hips to Link’s utter relief.

“Nice, of course,” Zelda replied with a pat to his arm. “I can’t think of anyone who might be classified as naughty.”

Link could think of one.

But he didn’t voice his opinion and instead shrugged in agreement, and the three of them were off to Zora’s Domain. He had to admit wearing the green of the mythical Santa’s Elves was an experience—he felt a sort of respect for the color. But it was nothing compared to how Zelda looked in her costume. She’d really gone all out for this, with a green little hat and all. It was cute, and admirable really, that she was willing to go so far to spread happiness. 

Happiness they desperately needed right now, with the Calamity looming ever above their heads and constricting them like a snake.

Anyway.

He supposed it would’ve been hard for anyone not to react upon seeing three oddly dressed individuals, Zora guardsmen included. But all the Princess of Hyrule had to do was smile and they let it go without question.

“What’s your ruling on Mipha, Father Christmas?” Zelda asked, lifting the Sheikah Slate.

“Nice,” Daruk decided, rather unsurprisingly. But Link nodded in agreement.

“Sidon too. Can’t leave something for Mipha and not her little brother,” he pointed out.

“I’m hurt you think I hadn’t considered that,” replied Zelda with a satisfied smile. “Alright, each package is specifically wrapped. Mipha gets the red box with the blue bow, and Sidon is the blue box with the red bow.”

Daruk swung the red sack from his shoulder and rummaged through it.

“You might have to do this one, tiny princess. Not sure how the big guy does it without waking anyone.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re more than capable! We’ll be right there with you,” Zelda encouraged, pulling something from the Sheikah Slate. “But if you feel you need it, I made an elixir that increases stealth.”

“What would we do without you?” 

The trip into Zora’s domain was relatively short after that. Zelda slipped into Mipha’s room to deliver the gift while Daruk and Link took care of Sidon, and she was pleased to know it’d been successful. Then, they were on their way to Gerudo for the next Champion. 

“Urbosa was incredibly hard to gift,” the princess said, thinking aloud. But Link was listening anyway, glancing over to her incase she decided to continue. 

“What did you end up getting her?” Daruk asked as he paused to rummage through the sack of presents. 

“Something of my mother’s,” Zelda replied simply, eyeing the small, wrapped box. “I think she would treasure it.”

A tiny smile graced her lips and Link felt his fingers twitch with the urge to take her hand. But she didn’t look sad. If anything, she looked comforted.

“You should deliver this one, Princess. I mean, Santa or not, Link and I can’t get into town,” Daruk pointed out. 

“I’ll be quick,” she promised before disappearing behind the walls of Gerudo Town. And while he knew she was safe there, he always felt an anxiety he couldn’t place.

“She’s real spirited,” said Daruk, nearly knocking Link over with his nudge. “It’s mighty kind of her to want to do this for us.”

“She wants to spread happiness,” he replied with a small shrug. 

“And is it working?” the Goron asked. Link didn’t answer, but he made a point to not look at Daruk and instead kept his gaze on the arching entrance to the town. A few minutes later, Zelda came back out and the group made their way to Hebra.

“Revali,” Zelda spoke, tapping at the slate. “What’s your ruling?”

“Naughty,” Link replied, without missing a beat. The Princess stared at him for a moment, then pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laughter. 

“I don’t want to agree, but..” Daruk said, scratching his beard, “he did call me an ‘oversized pebble’.”

“Revali’s just..” 

“Mean,” Link input, cutting Zelda off without really intending to.

“I was going to say young.”

“Well, so are you and the little guy here!” Daruk argued.

“Revali is a strong personality, and the Rito are a proud people,” Zelda stated, crossing her arms over her chest. “It would be rather rude to gift everyone but him.”

“I thought Santa’s whole thing was rewarding the good and punishing the bad,” said Daruk.

“Yes, but Revali isn’t bad, per say. Besides, we didn’t bring any coal.”

“I live on a volcano.”

“..Daruk.. tell me you did not pack coal.”

“That would be a lie, tiny princess.”

It was Link’s turn to fight back a laugh this time, biting the inside of his cheeks to keep it contained.

“Well, I can’t exactly stop you. But be sure to leave the real present too!”

But Daruk had disappeared into Rito Village, leaving the elf-dressed duo behind.

“I still think Revali would be on the naughty list,” Link said with a shrug. Zelda gave him a playful shove.

“Be nice,” she reprimanded, shaking her head.

“Do you think it’s possible for Revali to be nice?”

“I— I refuse to speak ill about any of my Champions,” but she was smiling through her words and that was enough of an agreement for Link. “I do hope Daruk hurries. I’m not sure how long the stealth elixir will last.”

“I’m sure that would make for an interesting sight to wake up to.”

To that, she laughed. Maybe the best part of the night was getting to spend time with her outside of Calamity related business. It almost felt like they were friends.

And then Daruk was back, and the group got ready to part ways. 

“Thank you, Daruk. It was fun,” Zelda spoke, setting a hand on his arm.

“The fun’s not done just yet, tiny princess. I’ve got two more on the nice list to gift.” The Goron pulled two more wrapped gifts from his bag, handed one to each of them, then set off for Death Mountain with a wink.

Link looked at the gift in his hands, something a little heavy with a beautiful wrapping job that could only have been done by nimble fingers. He glanced up at Zelda, who seemed just as surprised. 

Well, it seemed he wasn’t the only one who snuck something into the bag.

“Um,” she spoke, fiddling with her unopened gift. “I just.. it’s nothing big, but I.. I thought you’d enjoy it and you’re a Champion as well..”

Oh, it was a cue. Link nodded once, then carefully unwrapped the rectangular object. What remained in his hands was a book, and a fairly thick one at that.

“I had to beg every chef I know to get the recipes,” Zelda said again, taking a slight step forward. “It contains food from Faron to Goron City, as much as I could find. I also threw in some older recipes I found in cookbooks in the library, but I’m not sure how good any of them are.”

“I.. thank you,” Link replied, because there was really nothing he could say. He looked up at Zelda and offered a small smile, even if it wouldn’t be enough. 

She ducked her head and started to open her own gift. As soon as the treat was revealed, he found it was his turn to nervously explain.

“I heard it’s your favorite. I, uh, scribbled down a recipe I found, so if it’s not good..”

But she was smiling at him, and his words died on his tongue.

“My mother used to make a fruitcake every Hylia’s Day,” she said, and before he could give an apology or say anything else, she was hugging him. “Thank you.”

When Link returned to his quarters for the rest of the night away, he fell asleep with one thought in his head.

One day, he would love to cook every recipe in that book for the Princess.

#zelink #botw link #botw zelda #botw zelink #christmas prompts #zelink prompts #another dunk on revali #he'll never have peace so long as i'm an author