#all the proof is in my memory and vague little mentions here and there lost to time

[elvish-sky]

The Temptation of Regality: The Road Ahead

Inspired by this Anon Request from Tumblr: Hello! Happy new year! I love your writing! I was wondering- if you're still taking requests- can I ask for a Thorin x human!fem!Reader angst? Where she misheard something or was insulted by angry/jealous Thorin and they have a fall out- but get back together?

Word Count: 1,570

Pairing: Eventual Thorin x Reader

Warnings: A tad bit of fluff.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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The Road Ahead

You balanced in the tree, bow drawn as you watched the odd group of travelers below you. You saw dwarf after dwarf on pony pass underneath your vantage point, and had you not known they would be coming this way you would have been very confused. You decided to make your presence known, and, firing an arrow between the heads of the two in the lead, you flipped off of your branch, landing in a crouch in front of them with daggers drawn. 

“Y/N!” came an exclamation from the rear of the caravan as a tall rider cloaked in grey rode up next to the dwarves. “You came!” He turned to a dwarf, this one with long black hair streaked grey and an air of authority about him. “Thorin Oakenshield, may I introduce Y/N L/N, Ranger of the North, Dunedain, and my dear friend.” “Gandalf!” you sheathed your daggers on your back and  made your way over to embrace him as he clambered down from his steed. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t turn up!” “Ah, well, it took a little longer than I had expected to get our burglar on board, but here we are!” As he mentioned the burglar your eyes were drawn to a smaller figure in the center of the group. He was clearly a hobbit, and looked rather out of place with his tailored coat among all the rough, ready-for-war dwarves. “You must be Master Baggins,” you nodded to him, “Gandalf was telling me about you when he invited me to join you last month. You seem to be a very promising addition!” He looked pleased and slightly worried at your praise, but before he could say anything in return your attention was taken by the figure of Thorin swinging down from his mount and marching over to you and Gandalf. 

“Gandalf, I do not recall you mentioning that you had invited another to join our quest.” He stared up into the wizard’s eyes, clearly angry. He was taller than other dwarves you had met in the past, and you had to admit that his bearing gave him a alluring sense of regality. “I cannot allow another stranger to join our group without some sort of proof that she is up for the task.” You were rather offended by his insinuation that you couldn’t handle yourself, and decided to resolve the issue in the best way you knew how. “I’ll prove myself to you by dueling you right now, dwarf.” Thirteen heads whipped towards you in shock at your challenge, while Gandalf just looked resigned. “If that is what it takes for Thorin to allow Y/N to join us, then so be it.” He settled back against a tree and lit his pipe.

You decided that it was better to just get this done, and so casting aside your bow and quiver you drew the two daggers from your back and fell into a stance, circling the dwarf who had a large sword drawn. He lunged in at you and you parried, and then swung at his neck, causing him to roll under your blades as they whistled above his head. He stood and charged at you, and you neatly crouched and tripped him, his momentum causing him to fly over you and hit the ground with a thud. Noticing that he had had the breath knocked out of his lungs, you quickly straddled his chest, pinning his body to the ground. You drew a smaller knife from your boot and held it to his throat, effectively winning. 

You heard chatter and the jingle of coins being tossed, several small purses of which you saw thrown to Gandalf. “That settles it.” Gandalf turned to the rest of the group and mounted up, gesturing for everyone else to do so as well. “Y/N will be joining us on our quest to reclaim Erebor.”

“Y/N, let me introduce Dori, Ori, Nori, Bifir, Bofur, Bombur, Oin, Gloin, Balin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili.” As Gandalf spoke he pointed to a dwarf, each of whom waved when their name was called. You were concentrating on committing their names to memory, and forgot about the dwarf who you had pinned to the ground, until he grunted. Blushing, you quickly scrambled off him and stood, redonning your cloak and hanging your quiver from your shoulder. 

“Who is she to ride with, Gandalf?” came an inquiry from the hobbit, and to that Gandalf seemed to have no answer. “You know, Master Baggins, I hadn’t considered that.” “I can keep up with you all on foot.” You had no problem with walking, in fact, you thought you might prefer it to being stuck on a horse with one of the dwarves. “Why doesn’t she ride with Ori for now, as he’s one of the lightest, and we’ll see how the pony is doing later.” So you swung up behind the young dwarf, who politely offered you a knitted hat to keep your head warm. Thanking him, you donned it over your hair even though it was rather warm out, sure it would come in handy later, and off you went, missing the glare that Thorin shot at your back as you rode ahead of him.

As you sat behind the young dwarf, you marveled at the scenery surrounding you and at the group you were with. You knew these forests well, having hunted in them all your life, but the sheer beauty of the green foliage never ceased to stun you. You were also surprised that Gandalf had actually made this journey happen. You had thought him foolish when he had told you of it weeks ago, but here you were, surrounded by dwarves, on a quest to reclaim a mountain. The dwarves were not quite what you had expected, you had only met several in your life. The one sitting in front of you, Ori, seemed very polite, as did Dori, his brother, who had spoken to welcome you. Your mind kept drifting back to Thorin, though. You had heard stories of Erebor, and knew of how it had been lost. You felt sympathy for him- it must have been incredibly hard to lose your home and people. He had an air of noble sadness about him, you could see it in the way he carried himself. He was also rather attractive for a dwarf, something you did not want to admit but couldn’t help noticing. 

You had been riding for several hours without pause when a shout came from the rear of the line, “Thorin!” You saw the company leader’s head turn to the dwarf who had spoken. “Yes, Gloin?” “We’re all getting a little sore. May we rest for a short while?” Thorin nodded, once, and all the dwarves began dismounting with sighs. Some sprawled on the grass, while others grabbed some bread. “Why did you let me fight him, Gandalf?” The wizard’s face broke into a small grin at your question. “Because Thorin has a bad habit of underestimating people. He needed to know your worth for this quest.” “But how did you know I would win?” “He’s used to fighting opponents bigger than him. That crouch and trip is one of your signature moves, I knew you would use it and that he would not be expecting it.” Shaking your head at Gandalf’s foresight, you finished your bread in companionable silence until Thorin decided you had rested long enough. 

“Let’s get moving!” The handsome dwarf straddled his pony, sitting there with an air of impatience as the rest scrambled to get ready to set off. “I do believe that Ori’s pony might be getting a little tired of carrying two beings.” You stroked the horse’s velvety nose as you spoke to the wizard. “Perhaps it’s best if I ride with someone else for the rest of the day.” “You can ride with me!” came a cry from atop a pony near you. Gandalf patted you on the shoulder as he made his way over to his own horse. “Ride with Kili. I’m sure you two will get along well.” 

You climbed up behind Kili, and as you set off began to speak. “Why did you want me to join you?” you inquired of the young dwarf. “I wanted to talk to you about archery. I saw the shot you pulled off earlier between Uncle and Dwalin’s heads. It was amazing!” “Thank you!” you were pleased to have found someone who appreciated your skills. “Wait- Uncle?” “Yes. Uncle Thorin is my mother’s brother, so Fili and I are his nephews.” as he spoke he gestured to a golden-haired dwarf behind you who seemed to be arguing with the one you believed to be Nori. “But I wanted to talk about archery, not my family. What kind of bow do you use? It looks different than mine.” You quickly settled into a discussion of the different kinds of archery with him, enjoying yourself immensely as you talked about longbows versus recurve, and whether you liked fighting in close quarters or picking enemies off from a tree. Before talking to Kili you had worried that this quest would be lonely, with no one you knew except a rather vague wizard. Now that you had formed a real connection with someone you were excited to see where the road ahead would take you. You did worry about your attraction to the company leader, but brushed it off as the temptation of his regality. 

Everything tag💖: @boyruins @entishramblings @anjhope1 @itgetsatadhazy

#lord of the rings #jrr tolkien #the hobbit #the hobbit thorin #thorin x y/n #the company of thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield #thorin #thorin x you #thorin x reader #the hobbit fanfic #thorin fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #kili son of dis #fili and kili #fili #ori #gandalf the grey #thorin fic

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 2: Roceit

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 2: There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate

Content warning: vague neglectful/bad home life mentions, liquor store mention (no drinking), implied past parental death.

Word count: 2.6k

When they first met, they didn’t like each other. Would they go so far as to say they hated each other? Probably not. But it was no secret that Roman and Janus didn’t get along, even if they traveled in a mutual friend group. If the two interacted at all, it was in snide remarks and gripes that had everyone else in the group groaning in annoyance. They just wanted five minutes of peace, that’s all. Just five minutes.

Roman was too preppy, Janus said. He was loud and abrasive and presumptuous and arrogant, an annoying theatre boy with too much energy. Other’s feelings came second to his dramatic and overplayed grievances. 

Janus was too self centered, Roman retorted. He was untrustworthy and creepy and a compulsive liar, a loner with a mysterious backstory. Everything about him was kept hidden under a mask of indifference.

These things were true to some extent, but the group still loved them both too much to reject either one. So they both stayed, bothered by the other’s presence and unwilling to admit that maybe they disliked the other because they were so similar. They were both extravagant and theatrical and burdened with concealed insecurities, points that all of the rest of the group brought up regularly and they both vehemently denied. 

It all changed one morning during school, on a regular Wednesday with average weather after an uneventful English class, when Roman got overly excited at the cast list for the newest show being put up and dropped his art bag. Without a second of hesitation, Janus crouched to help him collect the supplies that had flown across the hallway. That was when Roman’s sleeve slid up, as he was reaching for a paint pen that had rolled up against a locker, and Janus nearly choked.

00:00

He blurted out his accusation before he could stop himself.

“You said you haven’t met your soulmate! And you call me secretive?”

Roman snarled almost animalistically, covering his completed timer back up and grabbing the now full bag off the ground.

“If you must know, my timer’s always been like that. I don’t know when it ran out; too young to remember. I don’t even know if it was ever counting down in the first place. Defective.” He flicked the numbers on his wrist.

“Does anyone else know?”

Roman narrowed his eyes at the uncharacteristic sympathy in Janus’ voice. “Just Remus.”

“Why haven’t you told them?”

“Why all the questions, Fibber on the Roof? Since when do you care about anything I do?”

Janus was quiet, breathing out a frustrated breath before folding down the bottom of his gloves, the same gloves that Roman taunted daily for making him look like every single Disney villain, the same gloves that made Roman turn to the rest of the group and insist that the guy was hiding something. Turns out he was right.

“My timer’s out too. I was too young to remember as well.”

Roman wasn’t able to respond, and Janus was surprisingly relieved. The silent solidarity in the other’s eyes was enough of an olive branch, just another thing they had in common. It was a pain the others didn’t understand, a frustration that couldn’t be fixed. So if from that point on, the bickering lessened and they finally allowed their shared interests to overlap, they surely wouldn’t be the ones to bring it up.  

That’s how they found themselves, almost half a year later, sitting on the swings of a musty playground near Janus’ house, watching the sunset in an unspoken agreement to put off going back until absolutely necessary. It was just another thing they had in common; shitty home life. They didn’t talk about it much, because they knew how much it sucked to discuss, so they let the facts stand at the forefront and the nitty gritty emotions and smaller mental repercussions stay healthily buried. What did it matter? Their parents were awful, ‘nuff said. 

“I just think it’s ridiculous, the amount of time he spent writing it.”

“He wrote and composed an entire play single handedly, J! Not a single word of it is dialogue, and it all rhymes! You try doing that in seven years.”

“I’m just saying, doesn’t it come to the point where you have to admit it’s too much work? Did he even know for a fact it would be successful?”

“He made it work, didn’t he? That’s what faith is for.”

“I wouldn’t have done it.”

“That’s what makes Lin Manuel Miranda a god, and you, a worm.” 

Janus gasped and raised a mock hand to his chest, drawing a loud laugh from Roman. While the shorter of the two still wore his gloves daily, the other had slowly gained the confidence to wear short sleeves and display his empty timer, though god help the fool who asked him anything about it. The conversation with the group had gone well, though Jan hadn’t admitted that his situation was the same. They hadn’t known him as long, and they both agreed that it was a sensitive topic. Roman didn’t push him. 

“The sun’s setting.”

“I had no idea,” Janus smirked, although the implications of the fast approaching darkness made a pit settle in his stomach.

“We don’t have to leave yet. I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I don’t really get in trouble that often,” The shorter murmured, kicking his feet in the dust under him, “She’s more just... forgetful. Ignorant. I’m not even sure she fully knows I exist all the time.”

Roman raised an eyebrow at the first bit of information he’d learned about Janus’ home life, besides knowing it was just ‘bad’. He was debating between quietly prodding him to continue or to just let it sit when Janus made the choice for him.

“The other day she asked me to go to the liquor store for her and literally didn’t believe me when I said I’m only eighteen. Then again, she’s forgotten my birthday for the last, what, ten years? So I guess she just lost track, got ahead of herself. I don’t know.”

“When’s your birthday?” It was the only response Roman could think of. 

“August seventh,” He whispered, almost like it was a dark secret he was scared to admit.

“Wait, actually?”

Janus turned to him, eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah?”

“You’re joking. This is a joke, right?”

“I can probably find my birth certificate if you need proof. Why are you losing your shit?”

“That’s my birthday too!” 

Janus matched Roman’s face splitting grin with one of his own, his worries slipping away. They’d all been irrational anyways, so good riddance. He quickly settled his face into a more neutral one, the unusual expression hurting his cheeks. A calm air settled between them as their eyes locked, almost in a trance, before Janus snapped out of it and turned his attention to the pink hues of the dimming sky.

“What are the chances?”

There was a lot Roman didn’t know about the newest member of the friend group, he realized after dropping Janus off at home and starting the walk back to his. Usually he’d pop in his earbuds, taking the longest back roads and detours to put off arriving even more, but today his head was lost in his thoughts. What else didn’t he know about the blond boy he was so infatuated with?

Two weeks later, Janus edged the front door of his house open, calling out a tentative “Mom?” before pushing it open all the way and pulling Roman in. There was no answer through the empty halls so he yanked the taller boy upstairs, praying that his mom wasn’t home instead of just ignoring his call. It wasn’t until he shut his bedroom door and leaned heavily against it did he remember to breathe, meeting Roman’s eyes shakily.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it. Parent’s are…”

“Yeah. It’s better if she doesn’t know you’re here.”

Roman nodded, finally looking around the room. One wall was completely adorned with old records, some cracked in places or missing pieces entirely. He found himself drawn to it, running a finger down the closest one to him as Janus collapsed on his bed, ruffling the yellow blanket beneath him. He took a moment to pull off his gloves, revealing his soulmark, a secret that only Roman had the honor of seeing. An old jukebox stood proudly in the corner, covered in a fine layer of dust.

“You definitely have an aesthetic,” Roman hummed, taking notes on the implications of the dust and not approaching the old machine. If Janus didn’t touch it, neither should he. Instead he sat down at the other’s desk, spinning himself lazily in the chair.

“It was all my dad’s old stuff. He loved music and antiques a lot. The record player was his, too.” 

He followed Janus’ gaze and nodded, overly tempted to take one of the records from the wall and trying to play it, but knowing that would only end badly. The record player was covered in the same thin sheet of dust. 

“Holy Hera, is that a baby picture of you?” His mind, apparently unable to stay on one topic for more than ten seconds, had decided to focus on the framed picture on the bedside table. He crossed the room and sat next to Janus on the bed, leaning closer to the photo but not daring to touch it. He inspected the woman, who could only be Janus’ mother, holding the tiny bundle and smiling weakly at the camera, her eyes tired and hair tied in a messy bun.

“Yeah,” Janus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “That’s the only picture I have with her. She hates cameras, always said she was self conscious and shit. It sucks that the only one I have, I don’t even remember taking.”

Roman knew he should respond to the surprisingly vulnerable statement, but his eyes had zeroed onto the still slightly slimy, wrinkly baby in the photo. Its little fists were tucked against his face, eyes closed peacefully, a moment of bliss that time forgot. That’s not what caught his attention, though. He squinted, edging just that much closer to the photo.

“You were born at Jacob Banks Memorial Hospital? I thought you lived in Chicago before you moved out here.” The tiny golden embroidery in the edge of the blanket was just focused enough to make out, as if he didn’t have an identical blanket at home, stashed under his bed in a box of other memories that were too special to throw away. He’d run his finger over the stitching a hundred times, reread the words and committed the blanket to memory, just for that high of simple childhood. And now, here was Janus as a baby, swaddled in the same blanket.

From the same hospital.

From the same day.

“Yeah. My parents were visiting relatives in town when my mom went into early labor. We didn’t end up actually moving here until a couple years ago.” Janus didn’t seem to notice the gears turning in Roman’s head as he reached forward, plucking the picture off the table and bringing it closer to his face. He tapped the glass, just above baby Janus’ arms.

“Right there, my timer. It’s just a few minutes left. I met my soulmate as a baby and no one cared enough to check who it was.”

“Janus.”

“I called the hospital as soon as I was old enough to comprehend, but they said they couldn’t help me. Didn’t have a record of anything to do with soulmates. Some help, huh.”

“Janus!”

“What? I’m trying to be melodramatic, Roman.”

“That’s the same hospital I was born in.”

“Okay? It’s the only one in town, I’m not overly surprised-” The lightbulb went off, and his head jerked up. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

They both were quiet for a moment, like the whole house was holding it’s breath, before Janus finally spoke, his voice a choked whisper. “Imagine with me, if you will,” he murmured, taking the picture and inspecting it closely. Not so much for sake of searching for details he wouldn’t have missed the hundreds of hours he spent inspecting the photo, more so just to avoid looking at the person beside him. “Two babies, born in the same place on the same day, put into the same small hospital nursery. They see each other, and click, their timers are out. Except both their parents don’t give a flying rat’s ass-”

“And so they never realize they met, and live their entire lives shrouded in mystery,” Roman finished quietly, suddenly terrified of the new ice they were walking on. 

“Hypothetically, of course.”

His head snapped up and the spell was broken, meeting Janus’ pale eyes and jumping to his feet, flapping his hands to dispel his nervous energy. “Okay. Okay! That could… that could make sense! All signs point that way, right?” He began to pace the length of Janus’ room, head tilted towards the ceiling, “And I mean, god, I’ve liked you for how long now? So I’m definitely not upset!”

“You’ve what?”

“Alright, so we can call the hospital, or go there, or something! I’m sure they can tell us how many babies were born that day, that doesn’t seem like confidential information, right? And if it was just us three, you, me, and Remus, then that’ll settle it!”

“Wait, no, Roman, stop!”

Janus launched himself at Roman before he could click the call button on the Google search of the hospital, already dedicated to his plan. He ripped the phone from his grasp and tossed it onto the bed after pressing the power button, grabbing Roman’s hands tightly.

“Jan, what the hell? That’s the only way we’re going to know for sure if we’re-”

“But what if we’re not?!”

The two settled into silence after the outburst, searching each other’s faces intently. They both shared scared expressions, eyes wide with excitement and nervousness, the possibility of years worth of questions finally being answered. The promise that their two soulmarks weren’t dysfunctional, weren’t broken, and fate that had led them together one way or another. 

But what if they weren’t?

“What if it’s a coincidence? What if you find out that your mom checked out before mine even got there, or our paths never could have crossed, or there were twenty babies born that day and there’s no sure way to know that we are each other’s soulmates? What if you find out that your soulmark said two years and mine ran out with someone else completely?”

“You’re starting to sound like Virgil,” Roman said quietly, almost fondly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

“Roman, if you’re my soulmate, I’d be elated,” Janus’ hushed tone matched his, “But I don’t know what I’ll do if I build my hope and then find out it’s not true.” They were quiet again, and Janus was suddenly hyper aware that he was still holding Roman’s hands, a furious blush rising to his cheeks. He fought the urge to look away, look anywhere other than Roman’s bright eyes, because this was the closest they’d ever been and he was scared one flinch might break the charm they were in. 

“We don’t have to check,” the taller whispered, “If you are, I’m content just… believing it.”

“You always were a cheesy romantic.” The phrase was meant to be cutting, but the uncontainable grin across his face greatly lessened its impact.

“I’m a Disney lover, what can I say?”

Janus snorted, dropping his head on to Roman’s shoulder, his heart nearly stopping altogether when the taller boy wrapped his arms around him and pulled them a step closer together. “So we’re agreeing on this? That we’re soulmates?” His voice was muffled against Roman’s shirt.

“As far as I’m concerned, yes. Fuck the system, right?”

“Overthrow the government. Commit arson in the name of anarchy. Society is a prison.”

“Dramatic, and that’s coming from me,” Roman drawled, rocking them back and forth slowly, dancing to unheard music, “Hey, Janus?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

#tsshipmonth2020 #lywrites #roceit #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #ts soulmate au #soulmate september #soulmateseptember #tw abuse #tw neglect

[billiejs]

Request Julie and the phantoms are on tour and juke dating , one stop on tour Luke gets sick  (woke up with fever, swollen glands, sore throat etc) and doctor diagnoses him with strep and ear infections and Julie takes care his stubborn butt back at the hotel because he doesn't like to let down the fans since they have to cancel few shows.

Here you go anon, thanks for the promp! Julie and the Phantom Drabble, 1.1k, Julie/Luke, very vague angst and very vague mentions of death

“I’m fine, I swear!” Luke sniffs noisily, trying to force himself up from the tour bus bunkbed Reggie is all but restraining him onto. 

“Yeah, a ray of sunshine.” He grunts, keeping him down so that the doctor has access to his throat. 

Julie bites her lip, standing behind the doctor. Luke looks feverish, his cheeks are pale and his nose is red and snotty. The dark bags under his eyes could carry all of their instruments to the next venue they’re supposed to play at. She hates seeing him like this, and her chest tightens the same way it does whenever she’s confronted with sickness. Even after all these years, she can’t help but feel as powerless and scared as when she was standing beside her mom in her hospital bed. 

“Strep throat, ear infection.” Doctor Jameson declares with a sigh, tugging on her stethoscope. “A minimum of two days of complete rest is mandatory.” 

Luke’s face is the exact reproduction of Munch’s Scream, if Munch had wanted to portray a twenty years old rockstar faced with existential dread. 

“What?” He shrieks, his voice breaking painfully and making him explode in a cough attack that sends Reggie zooming to the end of the bed. Alex, ever the anxious germaphobe, is peeking from behind the closed curtains of his top bunk bed. “Guys, we can’t! We have two shows in a row here!” 

“We’ll reschedule.” Julie bends down so she’s at eye level with him. “You can’t perform like this, Luke.” 

Luke isn’t just upset, he’s heartbroken. 

“No way,” he shakes his head resolutely. “Doctor, can’t you just give me a Vitamin B shot or an IV or something? We have to… to…” 

He starts coughing again, so hard that he gets teary. Julie feels the back of her own eyes begin to prickle as her stomach constricts painfully. She’s not good with sickness and she knows it, but seeing Luke in this condition is something she wasn’t prepared for.  

“You have to rest.” Doctor Jameson’s tone is final. “If, and I repeat, if you feel better tomorrow afternoon, I may give the green lights for tomorrow night’s show. But only if you rest completely and then keep resting for the two days after that.” 

“Sounds good,” Alex chirps from behind his curtains. “I’ll tell Flynn to prepare a post for the fans.”

“No!” Luke tries to protest, looking at Julie with pleading eyes she wouldn’t normally be able to resist. “Jules…” 

“We’re staying in a hotel tonight.” She replies. “You need to rest.” 

“Book one with a pool!” Reggie pleads, stretching his arms out. Luke has betrayal painted all over his face. 

“I really don’t get how you can be so chill about this.” 

Luke stutters five hours later, buried under two soft five-star hotel duvets and still fighting against shudders that run up and down his body. 

Julie sits cross-legged by his side, Luke’s prescriptions in one hand and the sheet with the doctor’s instructions in the other. She pops three different pills in her hand and hands them to Luke, who makes a show of looking offended as he swallows them down without the help of water. Then he makes a pained face because his throat still hurts. 

Julie loves him, she does, but when he acts so childish she would happily smack him in the head with Alex’s drumsticks. 

“None of us is casual about this.” She replies. “We don’t like canceling a show either. But your wellbeing is more important than any show ever, Luke.” 

All she can see of her boyfriend is his eyes peeking from the duvet, and his hair sticking to his forehead. He still manages to look defiant. 

“Some might say that my wellbeing is directly proportional to the time I spend on stage.” 

“Some might say that you’re an idiot,” Julie levels him down with a stare. “Oh, wait. That’s just me.” 

Luke would normally laugh at something like this, but all he does now is sigh heavily and avoid her eyes. 

“I just really, really hate to think that there are forty thousand people that we’re letting down tonight.” He says in a small voice, “That I’m letting down.” 

“Stop it,” Julie climbs under the duvet so she can wrap her arms around his torso and let him rest his head against her chest. “This is just one show. It sucks that we can’t play, but it’s neither your fault nor will it matter in the grand scheme of things.” She pauses to kiss the top of his head and Luke turns his head up to look at her with hopeful, sad eyes. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ll be playing shows until our fingers get too wrinkly and stiff from arthritis or something like that. People will get sick of seeing our concert playbills around towns.” 

Luke’s eyes close, a satisfied smile on his lips as he undoubtedly gets lost in the mental picture Julie has painted for him. She tightens her arms around his body, solid and feverish, and he gently intertwines a hand with hers. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his eyes still closed. Julie knows that he knows and she shudders a little, doing her best to keep certain bad memories out of her brain. 

“I’m… dealing with it.” She answers truthfully.

“I don’t want you to be here if it makes you feel bad,” Luke squeezes her hand. “I’m sure one of the boys can… I know you don’t like being around sick people.” 

“You’re not people.” Julie is happy with how firm her voice sounds. “I’m not leaving you. And besides, Alex wouldn’t come within five feet from you without a nuclear proof suit, and Reggie would let you sneak out to the tour bus to play. I only trust myself.” 

Luke snorts a laugh, and it has the miraculous effect of making Julie feel better too. 

“I can still try to corrupt you too,” he wiggles his eyebrows allusively at her, but it’s all ruined by a  powerful sneeze that makes the bed rock back and forth for a second. 

“I’m definitely charmed,” Julie rolls to her side of the bed to retrieve the tv remote from her bedside table. “Come on, I’ll let you choose the movie we’re watching.” 

Luke sniffles again. 

“School of Rock.” He declares.

“You know it by heart.” 

“You said I could choose.”

“I did,” Julie nestles against Luke under the duvet. “And I know what your real disease is.” 

“Stickittotheman-eosis.” Luke quotes happily, hugging Julie like she’s his personal teddybear, yawning as the opening credits start to play. “Gosh, I love you so much.”

“I don’t know if you’re saying this to me or to Jack Black.” Julie giggles.

“Babe.” Luke looks at her. “You’re special, but you’re no Jack Black.” 

“Yeah, I figured.” Julie sighs. When she meets Luke’s eyes, they are alight with something she’s not sure she can put into words. It makes her feel huge and small at the same time. 

“I love you too.”  ___________________________________________________ Thanks for reading! Feel free to drop a prompt in my askbox for more stuff like this if you’d like.  JATP minifics (x)

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #juke #jukebox #jatp minific #my fics #juke fics #jatp fanfic

[phairfantooooom]

Angsty Headcanons That Nobody Asked For

In which you fail. And you die to Belphie. Permanently.

Mammon

He was in denial and refused to believe what his heart was telling him

He was the first to discover you, he is the fastest of the brothers after all

He had raced up the stairs and didn’t even notice Belphie was even there when he barged into the room

When he saw your crumbled body laying on the floor in the attic something in him snapped.

He didn’t even realize he was crying as he clutched you to him. Quietly muttering to himself he begged, he pleaded, for you to wake up. You could yell and scream and insult him for ever agreeing to let you go do this alone but just please wake up.

“You weren’t suppose’d to leave me! You promised…. please…. please just open your eyes…”

When Mammon sees Belphie finally, he connects the dots quickly, as he remembered how Belphie felt toward humans.

“You. You did this didn’t you? You killed them.”

Anger and rage would fill him. And he would welcome it, he’d rather see red than see you not breathing

It’s only when Lucifer comes and stops him that the blinding anger begins to fade. And he hates it.

Mammon would refuse to accept your death and would try to figure out a way to get you back. It’s only when Lucifer sits him down much later on and has a serious talk with him that he finally gives up. It’s not a pretty scene. Lucifer’s heart breaks a bit when he sees just how much Mammon is suffering because of this.

It takes several sessions of talking before Mammon begins to even vaguely resemble his former self

He hoards the stuff from your room and keeps a picture of you in his wallet so that he can at least have a part of you with him always.

In the end he doesn’t truly recover from your death but will pretend he is okay to keep his brothers from worrying

Leviathan 

Was eerily quiet when he saw you laying all too still on the floor

A part of him had clung to the small hope that you could be saved if he got to you fast enough

Memories of all the times he saw you smile and enjoy spending time with him flooded his head and his chest shuddered as a silent wave of despair flooded him

He’d never get to play or spend time with you anymore. He’d never get to watch those romance animes with you. He’d… he’d never…he’d never get to confess

“.....Dammit…. Dammit…”

When he learns that Belphie killed you his feelings toward him become icy.

“You… you killed the human… I hate you. I. Hate. You. You took away the bright stars in my dark night sky. You killed the person I loved!”

He would mourn alone for the most part. Anything you ever gave him will become a treasure that nobody, not even his brothers, would be allowed to touch

Becomes even more of a recluse and eventually stops having pets as they only remind him of when you and him raised one of the fish in his aquarium.

He struggles to get excited about things he would normally enjoy. Ruri-Chan has started to collect dust. His Mononoke Land account hasn’t been touched in months. He no longer goes out for idol concerts.

Time feels so slow and yet so fast. Days turn into weeks and weeks into months. Everyone else begins to recover and he just can’t. He can’t let go of you. You who showed him that little things in life can make him happy, and gave him confidence to pursue coding.

You left a hole in his heart that can’t be filled. 

He doesn’t play games alot anymore, but has instead spent his time slowly starting to build an AI via his knowledge of coding. Anyone who sees it knows it’s supposed to be you, but nobody is brave enough to call him out on it.

Will sometimes cry himself to sleep while clinging onto your old uniforms and clothes, wishing desperately that you would come back to his side. To wake him up from this horrible nightmare.

Beel

Guilt.

So much guilt.

When he finds out what happened he actually struggled to get mad at Lucifer for containing Belphie. 

After seeing you pale and lifeless, it was the first time he had ever felt his hunger vanish. In a way it was worse, as what replaced the hungry was a heart wrenching feeling like no other. He had no injuries but yet it felt as if someone had shoved a hot poker into his heart.

When Belphie gives him the whole “All Humans suck speech” and tries to laugh it off, Beel loses it.

“She wasn’t like them!”

Even as you grew cold in his arms he had gently stroked the top of your head and whispered a sorrow filled farwell into your ear.

Over the course of the coming weeks he would move into your room. Partially because he wanted to be closer to you and partially because he couldn’t stand to be near Belphie.

He does his best to keep your room clean and tidy, while not moving your things out of place. It looks as if you had never left, almost to the point that sometimes he can easily imagine you opening the door and resuming your life here in the Devildom.

His appetite never truly came back, his love of food diminishing as he would remember all the times you and him would cook together. Or when you would treat each other to Hell’s Kitchen.

He visits where you were buried once every two weeks, so he can replace the Lilys he leaves on your grave

Satan

Ahhh. 

Very angry. And gets extremely close to killing Belphie. It’s only through Lucifer’s and Beel’s joined effort that they are able to calm him down to a civil level.

“You bastard of a brother! What the hell have you done?!”

His temper flares constantly at the very mention of Belphie.

He researches night and day to find a way to get you back. No matter the cost, no matter what he needed to do. 

It’s only when Lucifer quietly asks him “Do you really think the human would want you to sacrifice everything just to bring them back?” that his resolve begins to crack.

Of course he knew you wouldn’t want to see him like this. But you had no idea how much it hurt to not have you there.

Every moment you're not there by his side is another moment he has failed you.

Eventually he breaks down due to fatigue and he just cries. He’s frustrated because nothing was working. He’s frustrated that everything is a dead end. He is frustrated that you aren’t by his side.

He just…. he wants to see your smile. He wants to see that soft look you get when you hold kittens. He wants to be able to hold you again….

Eventually He gets a small therapy kitten and he names it after you when he notices that it shares the same color of your eyes.

He vents out his pain in writing, and he writes in as much detail as he can of what he remembers of all the times he spent with you

He wants to make sure, above all else, that your memory thrives even if you aren’t by his side

Asmodus 

Gets very pissy with Belphie

Reasonably so

Doesn’t realize what he is feeling is heartbreak, as he has never lost someone like this before

He misses you dearly, and oftentimes will use perfumes or cologne that reminds him of you

Unintentionally finds himself often reminiscing about you for weeks

One day he sees someone that vaguely looks like you and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest.

Immediately starts putting the moves on them but quickly realizes the differences between you and them.

The difference in pitch in their voice, the way they walk, the way that their eyes are a different color, the way they laugh. The more he observes the more he asks himself why he ever thought it was you.

He finds himself distraught. This had never happened before when any of his partners left him…. Something had to be done about this.

Attempts to banish you from his mind and goes clubbing.

His plan fails miserably.

Under the dim lights and thudding of the music he almost feels haunted by you, it was almost too easy for him to imagine you sitting and waving at him from the bar with that soft smile on your face.

He gets drunk. Veryyyyy drunk.

When he gets home he ends up just going to Belphie and venting his frustrations.

“This is your fault! Do you have ANY idea how much your actions have hurt ME?!”

Before things could escalate, Lucifer comes and defuses it

After this Amso doesn’t go out socializing anymore. He feels awful everytime he does since you're not with him. And he swears that sometimes he sees you out under the glimmering lights and it reminds him of what he has lost.

He hoards all of the pictures of you he has, and when he has a bad day he goes through them one at a time. 

“Even if you are no longer by my side, I will treasure you always.”

Belphie

Mr. Killer himself.

Could not give less than two shits about who you were and what you hoped to achieve

He would have kicked your corpse an extra time if he had known that you’d made Beel care about you.

When the brothers found him he had at least thought Beel, HIS TWIN, would side with him. But nooooo. Because of your meddling you had made him seem like a monster.

“Stupid human, you had no right to stick your nose where it didn’t belong.”

Didn’t understand why the other brothers held you in such high regard, and didn’t care to learn why

Until one day when he was in the House of Lamentation by himself

Everyone had been invited to a Gala at the Castle. Each of the brothers had been personally invited by Diavolo. Save for him, who was under house arrest for his actions.

Boredom struck and he found himself wandering around the house looking for something to do when he strolled past your room.

When the brothers were home they never allowed him to go in. They feared that he would destroy your belongings, and they would lose the last remaining things that were proof of your existence here in the Devildom.

Smirking to himself he made his way inside without a care in the world. Sure the other brothers may have cared for you, but he sure as hell didn’t.

He snooped around your room for a bit before sitting down at your desk.

“How boring…. don’t you have any secrets in here…?”

As if granting his wish he saw a leather bound notebook sitting behind a bunch of Devildom Law textbooks.

Quickly reading through the contents of the smaller book he realized that it was a Journal.

Completely filled with your private thoughts.

Believing he had struck gold he took the Journal back with him to his room and lazily sprawled out on his bed. All he had to do was just dig up whatever disgusting trash you were hiding and then he would be once more in everyone’s good graces. After all it’s not as if some stupid humans privacy matters to him.

And so he read.

And read.

And read.

He firmly believed that you had to have been hiding something, some dreadful secret. But the more he read, the more he began to have this strange feeling in his gut.

Your entries were normal, er well normal of a student going to a school full of demons, and occasionally you had placed photographs of some of the events you talked about.

One of them was a TSL competition with Levi. Another was a selfie of you and Beel at Hell’s Kitchen. There was a keychain stuck between two pages from a trip with Mammon, Satan, and Lucifer to London. There was even a candid shot of a pillow fight with Diavolo and Asmo.

Forgetting that this was your life written in ink, he read more and more about the lives his brothers had led in his absence.

It wasn’t until he laughed at something you wrote that he realized how comfortable he had gotten with the idea of you.

He nearly trashed the Journal after he realized that.

But…. something stopped him.

A while later he’d resume reading. Curious about your adventures… and…

He wanted to know what you thought about him.

Before long he found the entry where you had written about him and he felt his breath hitch.

Why did your opinion of him matter so much?

His fingers touched the inked lines and his jaw clenched as he read the last entry.

You had trusted him.

You who had held no prejudice against demons had trusted him wholeheartedly.

And what had he done?

He had killed you, without a second thought.

He had even enjoyed it.

The dam he didn’t know he had been hiding behind broke, and all the regret he had been burying since he had started reading your Journal had suddenly rushed to the surface.

He hadn’t noticed he had been crying until he saw the wet blots hit the paper and smudge your words.

“I…. what have I done…. I’m so sorry….”

Lucifer

The calmest of the brothers

Outwardly, at least

Internally he wanted to rip out Belphies throat because how dare he

Doesn’t express how much it hurts to have lost you, he needs to be strong. Both for himself and for his brothers.

The tragedy of being the eldest is that he was the role model. His actions would reflect on himself and his brothers. So his reactions are more forced rather than natural.

Diavolo often tries to coax Lucifer into opening up about it but fails everytime. 

“If you really cared, you would bring her back, Lord Diavolo.”

Tension between Diavolo and Lucifer gets… bad. The anger and growing resentment toward the heir of the throne only got worse with time, and eventually Lucifer stepped down from his position with Satan taking his place.

He often goes to your old room and locks himself inside, thinking to himself. The brothers are actually a bit nervous every time this happens because they expect that this time Lucifer will finally snap and they will have to deal with an enraged Avatar of Pride. But it never does so it relieves them and makes them stressed at the same time.

But eventually...

It happens

Diavolo comes by to collect the remains of your belongings, with the intent of sending them back to the human world, to your family and friends

Lucifer sees him collecting your stuff and he fucking snaps

“If you value your life you will cease this at once.”

Before Diavolo can summon Barbatos to his side, Lucifer had managed to grab the prince by the throat. His form had changed to that of his demon self, and his eyes were mad from grief and anger.

There is a brief moment of struggle on Diavolo’s behalf followed by Lucifer leaning uncomfortably close with an aura of unbridled fury.

“You will bring her back, I know you are able to. And you will. Why? Because if you don’t I will rampage through this kingdom of yours until there is nothing but ashes left in my wake.”

#Obey Me #Obey Me Headcanon #Obey Me Lucifer #Obey Me Mammon #Obey Me Leviathan #Obey Me Beel #Obey Me Asmodus #Obey Me Satan #Obey Me Belphie #no beta we die like men

[whiskynottea]

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics Ficlet -- All the Time in the World

A/N: @wickedgoodbooks came to my inbox yelling ‘GOOFBALLSIES’, so here they are! Another thermodynamics ficlet. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

AO3

(You can find the main story here and on AO3)

                                                     ~~~~~~

“How is she?” 

My voice came a bit too loud, my breath too short. Before I had time to walk into the room, Jamie rushed to me and crushed me against his chest in a smothering hug. We had hung up less than ten minutes ago but I wanted to make sure that nothing had changed while I was trying to find my way to the waiting room.

“So? Do we have any news?” I asked again with the little breath I had left, wiggling in his arms so I could see him. His auburn locks were falling haphazardly on his forehead and the lack of sleep was evident in his eyes. 

He’d come back from Michigan a week ago, determined not to miss Jenny’s delivery, and I joined them during the weekend. We spent the majority of our time with Jenny and Ian, following Dr Haffer’s orders and taking long walks in the city, but kept the nights to ourselves, locked into the small guest room of Jenny and Ian’s apartment. Time seemed to expand in the little room, like every time we eliminated the space between us. We lived in every second, every minute, drinking in each other -- the murmur of our voices not coming through speakers, the caress of breath on bare skin, the feel of our bodies coming together. The feeling of being home. 

When Sunday night came and Jenny wasn’t in labour yet, Jamie walked me to the train station because I couldn’t skip Monday’s practical. I saw him raising his hand through the window, mouthing ‘I love you’ and once again, I left a part of my heart with him. The biggest part, if I was to judge by the way my chest was caving in and my irregular breathing. It was always like this when one of us had to go and I supposed if I wasn’t used to it yet, I never would.

However, here I was again, only two days later, after receiving a call from a Jamie in the middle of the night. Hovering between excitement and panic he informed me way too loudly that they were on their way to the hospital. I had taken the first train to Edinburgh.

Jamie was a lot calmer now and he was tracing lines on my shoulder blades to calm me as well. 

“Nah,” he smiled and planted a kiss on my forehead. His gaze moved to my lips and a moment later his mouth was on mine. When we broke apart he was smiling.  “We’re still waiting, but any time now…”

I couldn’t stop the grin from my face. “You’ll be an uncle,” I finished his sentence.

“Aye,” he beamed. “Jen will have wee lad. Can ye imagine, Sassenach?”

I thought of the thousand speculations we had made with Jenny over the phone during the last seven months. It was ridiculous, really, how the image of the baby changed according to our whim. First, it had Jenny’s blue eyes and Ian’s brown hair, then Ian’s warm eyes and Jenny’s elegant nose, after that Jenny’s black hair and Ian’s cheekbones. Jenny always ended up saying that she only wanted their baby to be healthy. Healthy and happy. I couldn’t wait to see the amazing mum she’d become.

“A little boy,” I murmured, biting the smile on my lips. “It feels like a miracle.”

Jamie grimaced. “Ian told Jenny so, about two hours ago. It didn’t go well.”

I laughed before cringing at the thought of my friend’s ordeal. “That bad?”

“‘What a miraculous pain indeed’, were her exact words.” I chuckled because that did sound like Jenny. “She was almost there once, but nothing. She got a bit disappointed after that. But the doctor said ‘tis normal for a first-time mum to labour for fourteen to twenty hours. We’re still at fifteen.”

“She going to make it and once she holds him in her arms she’ll forget everything else.”

“You think so? She’ll forget all about the pain?” Jamie doubted as he took my hand and lead me to the chairs. 

“No,” I said, sitting down. “Science doesn’t back up the claims that women forget the pain of childbirth. It’s a myth. What I meant was that she won’t care anymore.”

“I dinna think she cares for the pain that much now, either. She just wants the baby to be okay.”

“That’s our Jenny.”

It was at that moment when Jenny’s scream pierced the air. Jamie shot out of his chair and started pacing back and forth. 

“Babe,” he said in a low voice after a minute or two, coming to a stand in front of me. “I was thinking…” he trailed off. “Now that I know…” He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. “Ye ken…”

“What?” I stood up, alarmed. “Jamie, what is it?”

“I ken we’ve never talked about that and I’m getting ahead of myself. I dinna think that’s the place where we should talk about it for the first time either… ‘Tis hardly romantic. But… Seeing Jenny… I dinna want ye to go through this pain, mo chridhe.”

“What do you mean?” I took a step back, frowning.

“Jenny is a tough one and yet ye heard how she just screamed... I dinna think I’ve ever heard her screaming, apart from when she attacked Ian and me like a wee banshee at Lallybroch when we were children.” 

“Screaming is good,” I tried to reassure him. “It releases tension.”

“Aye, maybe. But ye, going through this? I dinna think I can bear your pain, Sassenach. It will tear right through me.” 

“What are you saying, James Fraser?” I said, my tone ominous and my hands on my hips. “You mean to say that your sister is tougher than I am? That I couldn’t handle giving birth? What is that supposed to mean?”

Jamie’s eyes got wide, then wider, black eating up the blue. “No, I didna mean… I hardly thought of comparing…”

“Well?”

“All I meant to say is that I don’t know what I would do if it were you screaming in there. I wish I could protect ye from this pain but I won’t. I can do nothing about it. So I was thinking…”

“Jamie,” I interrupted him. “You could be in there, with me. Like Ian is with Jenny. You could hold my hand. You could brush my hair off my forehead or wipe off my sweat or whatever else husbands do when their wives are in labour. You could be by my side. You could be there.” I cupped his face, forcing him to look down at me. “I don’t care about the pain as long as I can crush your hand with every contraction.” I paused, thinking, then added, “And as long as you won’t say that you know what I’m going through.”

He laughed. “Aye, I can do that.” 

His smile was sweet as I pressed my lips on his. Our kiss was tender, a promise for a future resembling a vague painting -- the colours intermingling, the figures taking every form we could imagine. 

“So I take it that you want children?”

“Aye,” he said and the light blush on his cheeks turned him to an insecure teenager, uncertain if he’d said the right thing to his first love. “You?”

“Yes,” I smiled and kissed him again. “Just not yet, okay? We have our degrees to get and, you know… Live on the same continent.”

He laughed and shook his head. “We have all the time in the world. I just want you to know that that you don’t need to go through this if ye don’t want to. If we want children we can adopt…”

I ran my fingers against the stubble on his cheek, the smooth cheekbone, marvelling into the man he was becoming. “We could have children and also adopt one. To give them a home and the love they deserve.”

Jamie beamed and leaned into me to kiss me again when an awkward cough broke us apart. I turned reluctantly around to see Brian carrying three cups of coffee. 

“Welcome back lass,” he said with a nod as he handed me a cup. 

“How are you?” I asked as I took two coffees from him, giving one to Jamie. 

“Impatient.” His eyes twinkled with mirth. “Any news from our girl?”

“Apart from a scream, no. Nothing yet.” Jamie’s countenance changed again, his concern coming forward as his eyebrows almost touched above his nose. He was adorable.

“Dinna fash, lad. ‘Tis normal. Yer Ma was in labour for eighteen hours before Jenny came to the world.”

The mention of Jamie’s mother remained suspended in the air, vibrating with anguish and loss. 

She should be here, I thought. The tall woman who read The Cricket on the Hearth to her children and smelled like almonds. 

I saw the pain on Jamie’s face before he retreated further into himself, as he usually did when guilt attacked his common sense over the loss of his mother and brother. I grabbed his hand and squeezed tight, in a desperate move to bring him back to the present. I wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone. He should stop punishing himself for what wasn’t his fault. He gifted me with a sad smile that wasn’t enough but was better than nothing.

I kept his hand in mine, trying not to sigh. Once, at Lallybroch, I had vowed to Ellen to take care of her red-headed lad. I breathed in deeply and renewed my promise, extending it to encompass all the Fraser family. To love them more, for her.

“Jamie, lad,” Brian said in a soothing voice as he moved closer to his son. “We’re here together and your Ma and Rob are with us because we carry them in our hearts every day, aye?”

It was a sweet thing to say, but when I looked into Brian Fraser’s eyes I realised that he believed it. Each word. He’d never lived a day without Ellen because he carried her with him. Because he saw her in their children. He was living proof of love, of devotion.

We sat in silence, the two Frasers lost in memories of a past forever gone and I, trying to introduce a new subject to discuss and failing miserably. 

“He’s here! He’s here!” Ian burst into the room, laughing, and crying, and hugging us all before we had time to react to his announcement. “Ten fingers and ten toes, with a tuft of black hair and a wee numb for a nose.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks but he didn’t seem to notice. “He’s the bonniest lad ye’ve ever seen. A bit on the red side and covered with --” he stopped, shaking his head. “And Jenny,” he said, turning to Jamie. “Man, if I dinna find myself the bravest lass. She’s so fearless it sometimes scares me.” 

“Can we see them?” Brian asked, eyes darting from Ian to the door, as though he would run down the corridor to his daughter and grandson the moment he got confirmation that he was allowed to. 

“Aye, in a bit. They haven’t finished yet.”

We were all standing, grinning like fools as we bounced on our feet, having nowhere to go but being too hyped to sit down again. 

Ian’s announcement had broken the heavy silence that hung above our heads a minute ago, planting its cracks with a bright, pulsating feeling of anticipation. Life always surprised me in those moments; the moments that show us that nothing ever ends, that we are as complicated as we are simple. No matter what we are facing, we keep finding reasons to go on, to see the beauty, to honour our chance in this world. 

“I’m going back to her,” Ian said and a moment later he disappeared, leaving us alone in that waiting limbo. 

“He has Jenny’s hair,” Brian said, still gazing at the door.

“Yer hair, Da,” Jamie added before he hugged the older man, whose black head was now featuring a few grey hairs as well. 

I looked at them, observing how same they were, how different. Wondering if Jenny’s little man will have the Fraser charm as well.

“Congratulations,” I said to both of them when they turned to look at me. Brian thanked me as Jamie walked to me, wove an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer.

“Congratulations to ye too, Sassenach,” he whispered in my ear. “Ye’ll be his auntie, ye ken. His fairy auntie Claire.”

I laughed at that and kissed him on his cheekbone. “Auntie Claire,” I murmured, claiming a role in the little baby’s life as well. I looked forward to corrupting the little lad with treats and gifts and love.

When we finally got to see Jenny and the baby, we were like children opening gifts on a Christmas day. Jenny looked exhausted, but when her eyes met ours the sweetest smile curled up her lips. She was glowing. It was like I could feel her wonder at her little human, her happiness. 

“Come see him,” she bid us and her gaze trailed back on the little bundle she was holding. 

Brian moved first, unable to take his eyes away from his daughter and grandson. Jamie took my hand and I felt my feet following him towards the bed. 

“He’s like a miracle, Da,” Jenny repeated Ian’s words that had vexed her with teary eyes, looking up to her father. 

“Aye, my wee lass. Like the miracle ye were, for me and yer Ma. And now ye’re giving me yet another gift.” The voice wavered but his gaze didn’t move an inch away from his daughter’s face. I squeezed Jamie’s hand and he squeezed mine back.

Sometimes, I loved these silent conversations more than our audible ones; this secret code kept only for the two of us.  

Jenny pulled her father down to kiss him. “Thank you, Da.”

“She would be very proud of you, Janet Flora Arabella.”

Jamie and Ian barked out similar laughs that almost covered Jenny’s exclamation, “Da!” 

“And now that we come to names…” Ian started but stopped, waiting for Jenny to continue for him.

She nodded. “His name is James Robert Brian,” Jenny said with a grin. “Continuing this ridiculous family tradition and all.”

Jamie swallowed so hard I could hear it. 

“Jen…” he whispered, looking at his sister through wide eyes.

“Brother, ye ken that ye mean a lot to me. As you do, Da. And wee Rob… I dinna want him to be forgotten.”

Jamie rushed to her, speechless, and bent over her, planting a tender kiss on his sister’s forehead. 

“Thank ye, Jen,” he said, his accent heavier than it usually was. “I… Thank ye,” he repeated lamely, all other words having left him. “Can I hold him?”

Jenny extended the little bundle to his waiting arms. The baby’s head was smaller than his hand and a tiny hand was raised as though to touch him, to feel this new world.

“Hello wee one,” Jamie cooed. “Welcome to the world. Welcome to the family. I promise I’ll always be there to take care of you, even when ye’re a wee rascal and ye make yer Ma and Da mad.”

I chuckled and moved closer, peaking at the baby. He was still reddish, with swollen brown eyes and a tiny nose, just like Ian had said. Without thinking, I reached a forefinger and felt his tiny little fingers against mine. My heart banged in my chest, so full of emotion I thought it would burst.

“And this is auntie Claire,” Jamie introduced me a moment later. “And we love her, just so ye ken.”

“Valuable information,” I mocked, somewhat shy.

“‘Tis.” It was not Jamie, but Jenny that spoke from the bed, looking at as with a sweet smile.

“How do you feel?” I asked, leaving Jamie to have a moment alone with his nephew.

“God, I’m tired. But I canna close my eyes because I want to look at him and I canna do that while being asleep, ken? I dinna think I will draw anything else apart from him in the near future.”

“Nobody is going to take him from ye and ye’ll need yer strength lass,” her father advised. “Life is never going to be the same now.”

“Sleepless nights? Crying?” Ian asked, eyeing the little one who was, for now, calm and quiet. 

“Aye,” Brian chuckled. “Lots of laughter too, son. Can I hold my grandson now?”

He’d barely got the baby from Jamie when a nurse dashed into the room, informing us that it was time for the mother to nurse her baby.

“Oh, aye.” Brian reluctantly handed little James back to his mother, clearly lamenting that he hadn't asked for him before. Jenny took him with tender moves, poked at his nose and started murmuring, asking him if he was hungry. 

“We’ll see you later Jenny. You too, Ian!”

They both nodded, barely sparing us a glance before their gaze fell on their son who was blinking at his Ma.

“They’re so sweet together, aren’t they?” I asked once we left the room.

“A real family,” Brian replied, wistful and happy together.

“Are ye happy, Da?”

“Aye, son.” Brian’s voice was mellow and smooth, spreading around us like butter on bread. “You’ll never know how much happiness Jenny and ye have brought into my life until ye have yer own children. Then, ye’ll understand.” He reached out and ruffled Jamie’s hair as though he was a little boy and not a man more than six feet tall. 

We left the hospital feeling that the world was a little bit better than an hour ago. In the car, on our way home Jamie leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “So… Two of our own and an adopted one? Let’s say… Two girls and a boy?”

I turned to look at him incredulously but the way he was looking at me made my heart stop and my mind go blank. 

“Maybe,” was all I managed to whisper in response before I broke into a wide grin.

“We could name the boy Dalhousie.”

“You must be out of your bloody mind.” 

“Fergus?” Jamie gave me one of his lopsided smiles and I rolled my eyes.

“Jesus!” I shook my head in disbelief before I turned forward, only to see Brian through the mirror, smirking.

“I dinna think Jesus is a good name for the lad, Sassenach. Too much weight on his shoulders.”

Brian was now holding back a laugh. These Frasers. 

I elbowed Jamie and huffed indignantly. He took my hand in his and squeezed until I turned to look at him again. He kissed my temple then, whispering, “We’ll think about it. We have time.”

I smiled, thinking what Jamie had said in the waiting room. We wouldn’t start a family any time soon, but we had all the time in the world.

Two girls and a boy didn’t sound like a bad combination either. 

#thermodynamics #the first law of thermodynamics #jamie x claire #jenny x ian #high school AU #college AU #outlander fanfic #thermo ficlet #all the time in the world #outlander fanfiction

[kitsu-katsu]

On Ghostbur and Fundy

Alright, fuck it, I'll paste here a thing I said in response to a post on twitter about how Ghostbur isn't all that innocent with the attached clip of the moment back when Ghostbur first talked to Fundy in his sewer.

The post said that Ghostbur was horrible to Fundy because he told him that "if I don't remember it, it probably isn't worth remembering" (which, fair, it wasn't nice at all), and that part of that whole conversation was guilt trippy and bad for Fundy, because Fundy can't just move on like Wilbur did and he should at least get an apology for Alivebur saying "I despise you" one of the last times they saw each other.

And that Ghostbur is just avoiding and denying things that could help himself too. OP mentioned that as she saw it, Ghostbur was just dividing himself into Alivebur and Ghostbur as a way to cope with guilt and that Ghostbur "blocks away the memories and bad stuff".

Well, here's my take:

That is horrible for Fundy

But at the same time as I see it Ghostbur is what Wilbur became post mortem, but isn't Wilbur, Wilbur himself is dead and done until revived, Ghostbur is an incomplete version, thus couldn't ever give the closure Fundy needs.

I don't see it as Ghostbur blocking the memories away, but more like being actually incapable of remembering, so he shouldn't sau what he said, but at the same time I think Ghostbur is incapable of actually closing this off completely

He didn't even remember what Pogtopia was (only saying "I remember a ravine") or that he even lost the elections, so it seems kind of pointless to try and get closure from someone who just can't know what he did when alive.

Moreso adding that we've seen him forget bad things in real time, like his outburst at Phil during doomsday, a few minutes later he still had the intention to be revived, but what sparked that was gone again.

And then we've also heard what seems to be a more accurate dead Wilbur in the disk war finale that was separate from Ghostbur and actually seemed to be the complete version of Wilbur who didn't really care for Ghostbur.

But now, aside from my response from like a week ago, I'd also like to add that Fundy helped in fueling Wilbur's paranoia. From Wilbur's POV he was exiled from his nation and the first thing he saw when looking back was his dear son tearing down the walls and burning the flag, Fundy outright said "He's just a founder and I was born here, nothing else" TO HIS FACE. And then worked with Schlatt until the final stretch.

It just seems convenient to leave out those facts, being that they provide a perfectly good explanation to not only further Wilbur's paranoia that everyone he cared for would turn on him, that no one really wanted him, but also as an explanation for why, on the final stretch, Wilbur kind of rejected Fundy even if he revealed to be working as a spy. Just put yourself in his shoes a little with the knowledge that he's not exactly acting completely rationally, he's been getting eaten alive by paranoia for months, and one of the biggest apparent proofs of the paranoia being right just tells him that he was actually on his side. I don't exactly blame Wilbur for not outright trusting him, his POV doesn't suggest he should.

And then he died with all his problems and Ghostbur came, but as I said, if Fundy seeks closure, he can't get it from Ghostbur, because Ghostbur isn't just blocking away memories, he can't remember outright.

And I also think that overlooking what Ghostbur has reiterated time and time again that he is not Wilbur is a foolish mistake. For all intents and purposes Ghostbur is more like a product of Wilbur's life, but he really isn't Wilbur. He can't be Alivebur because he only has bits and pieces of what Alivebur was, and all the blank spaces are filled with vague accounts of "he was a terrible person". He also canonically isn't all of Wilbur's dead form, because we KNOW a dead Wilbur talks to Tommy two times already and that dead Wilbur seems to be more like the complete version, the one who went through Pogtopia and didn't just "find a ravine".

To end with, Fundy's pain is valid, and he does deserve closure, but OP completely ignored Ghostbur's and Alivebur's pain as well. Alivebur was being consumed by paranoia and in a bad mental state, he was acting recklessly. And imagine being Ghostbur too. You came into this world remembering your death as a good thing, your father as the hero who slayed the dragon and saved the town, and aside from that only remembering the good parts, the parts when you were ok, happy, stable, when your son and all your friends didn't seem to be against you, but whenever your life gets mentioned a remark about how awful you were springs up, "Alivebur was just bad" the people say in half told tales of Alivebur's days, and Ghostbur is innocent to a fault, everything's black and white and the black gets forcefully removed by his amnesia to sad memories, I don't think it's difficult to see why he just wants to avoid further conversation about how awful Alivebur seemed to be, he can't even remember it and just has to be confronted with the fact that people must be right, and Alivebur must've been awful, but he also separated himself from Alivebur because of course he would, they are functionally different people.

And Ghostbur and Wilbur didn't exactly "just move on" either. Wilbur died, there's nowhere else to go from there, the dude spent 9 afterlife years playing solitare, he didn't exactly reinvent himself. And Ghostbur was just perpetually stuck in a cycle of forgetfulness, of getting taken advantage of, of hurting and forgetting, of being oblivious and getting treated as both a toddler and the dude who blew up a country.

TLDR: They were both hurt, they both deserve better, they deserve closure and for their relationship to heal, but ignoring Wilbur's side is just stupid. They're just damaged people hurting each other further in the end.

#c!fundy #c!wilbur #wilbur soot #dsmp wilbur #fundylive #dsmp fundy #fundy and wilbur #dsmp fandom #dream smp #dsmp

[blue-bird-on-a-wire]

Mav (Free)

Part 3 of the Gar Cuyir Yaim series

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,340

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x (Y/n) with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Jabba’s slave culture, mentioned kidnapping/child kidnapping, insecure (Y/n), hinted/implied abuse of (Y/n)

Summary: (Y/n) represses memories from her past after Paz explains how he knows her.

Updates: Every Tuesday at 5:30 pm MT

A/N: Hello! You can also find this fic on Ao3 under B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire. Please feel free to give me feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. If you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me! I don’t bite 😊. Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist

“What?” I asked, not sure I heard Paz correctly.

You were a foundling.

I was not a foundling. Foundlings were the adoptive children of the Mandalorians, raised to be strong warriors. I was not strong nor a warrior, let alone raised by Paz’s kind. He must have been mistranslating.

Paz continued to stare at me like he was frozen in carbonite.

“That can’t be right. I’ve never met a Mandalorian before you,” I whispered.

He just kept looking at me, and it started to make my skin crawl. Was he mad at me? Was he considering taking me back? What did this all mean for him? I wasn’t a foundling and never had been. He needed to look again.

“...That’s why I recognized you,” Paz muttered, more to himself than to me. “You disappeared after the Shereshir be Ade.”

“...the...the what?”

Paz quickly stood up, taking a step toward me. “The Kidnapping of Children,” he said, as though that would explain everything. “I never thought I would see you again.”

I took a hesitant step back. He was mistaken. If he took a look at the holo again, he would see I wasn’t a foundling. I never was.

I couldn't bring myself to believe I could have been one of him. The Mandalorians were just stories to me until a few days ago.

“I-I... I don’t know who you are, Paz,” I said. “I-I’m sorry.”

Paz’s steps abruptly stopped. His shoulders tensed and I could hear his breath hitch through the modulator.

“I’ve belonged to Jabba for as long as I can remember,” I continued. “I don’t even know what planet I was born on, or who brought me to him.”

A pause. This silence from him was making me more and more nervous.

“...I’ve only heard of Mandalorians through stories from bounty hunters. You must be mistaking me for someone else, and I’m so sorry I mislead you-”

“We were playing in the covert. You wanted to play some hiding game, and I was looking for you… You couldn't stop laughing,” Paz’s shoulders deflated. “Then there was a loud boom - an explosion - and we were running through the tunnels. But you were so small. I didn’t-” Paz’s helmet tilted to the side, away from me. “I hadn't even noticed how far behind you were-”

“Y-you’re think- thinking of someone else. I-I wasn’t-” I could feel the tears building behind my eyes.

This was freaking me out. He said he knew me? Or at least he thought he knew me. I didn’t know anyone. I had grown up alone - raised by other slaves and taught two things. There are the rulers and the ruled. You are determined for either destiny and are good for nothing else.

This was turning my whole galaxy around.

“Our covert was attacked and in the aftermath, we couldn't find several of our children,” Paz explained, looking back at me and taking another step forward. “I couldn't find you.”

My breathing was shallow as I struggled to keep from crying. This couldn't have been happening. I wasn’t who he said I was. There wasn’t any other path I could have lived. My slavery was inevitable. I wasn’t once the very thing I had longed to be since I was younger. I hadn't… I couldn't of-

“(Y/n),” said Paz. “Ni ceta.”

“I-I don’t know wha- what that means,” I whimpered. “I-I’m just- just a slave. You-you’re thinking of- of the wrong per-person,” I choked out. “But I-I can’t eve-even read to show you it-it’s no-not true,” I gestured to my collar.

I wasn’t. I wasn’t. I wasn’t.

I didn’t know this man. He was wrong about me. He thought I was someone I wasn’t. Someone he mistook for a childhood friend.

Everything was crashing down around me because I do remember feeling cold. I remember feeling afraid, and lost, and alone. I could never picture any of it but I always remembered how it felt. It felt abandoned.

Being forced to leave wherever I came from, only to be thrown into the grubby hands of Jabba felt… like I had been ripped from whatever home had come before.

But I couldn't remember, and my experience must have been different from whoever this Mandalorian was talking about. No matter how similar it might have been.

Paz reached behind him for the collar with its holo still displaying. He thrust it toward me, pointing at things with his gloved fingers.

“Right here,” Paz explained, “It says you were gifted, not bought. You were proof of eradication of a Mandalorian covert. That’s why you were given to Jabba. You were the false proof of a job well done.”

I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks, or the whimpers that left my mouth. I couldn't remember these things. He wanted me to remember, and I couldn't do that.

“... I-I can’t read, Paz…”

I must have looked even more pathetic to him if he thought I was once a foundling. Balling my eyes out like I wasn’t in the presence of a Mandalorian.

My back finally hit the wall behind me, and I hadn't realized till that moment just how far I had moved away from him.

“I-I’m sorry that I-I’m not who- who you think I am…”

Paz remained silent.

“I’m sor-sorry you have the wrong per-person.”

He continued to stare at me. I could see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

He was going to hit me soon, I was sure of it.

But he never did.

Maybe I was supposed to play along. Maybe he wanted me to pretend to be this other person because I looked vaguely like them.

All of a sudden, Paz lurched forward and stormed up the ladder to the cockpit.

I held my breath at the sound of his boots, only taking in air once I heard the door to the cockpit close.

I was left alone, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company.

Nothing but my thoughts to drown in.

~ ~ ~

The more I dwelled on it, the more I felt these vague images and feelings bubbling to the surface.

I remember bars.

And it was dark.

I remember being yelled at. Being told to quiet down and stop squirming.

But I don’t recall any faces. Just noise and feelings.

There had been a smell of something metallic.

I didn’t want to think about these things. I didn’t like to acknowledge these things. They implied that somewhere in my lifetime I had not been a slave. That I was taken or abducted from somewhere. I did not like to think that if something had changed - maybe I ate something else that morning or slept in a little later - then I might not have ever been a slave.

False memories. That’s what I decided to chalk these things up to, even though these things had existed in the back of my mind long before Paz entered Jabba’s Palace.

Yes, false memories was all that they were. I had simply made them up.

But I was not dreaming. My neck still throbbed with pain, even as the bacta gel absorbed into my skin. It had been a few hours, I assumed. Maybe the pain would go away in a few more.

I lifted my head from my arms, which rested on my folded-up knees.

Corners were nice. I liked corners. They made me feel secure and safe. All I had to worry about was what was in front of me, not behind.

Jabba’s Palace was sort of like a corner. I knew what to expect. I knew what to look out for.

Paz was like sitting in the middle of an open room with doors on every wall… Maybe the room was even a circle, and the doors were identical just to make it more confusing. I felt like being here with Paz was so full of uncertainty. Any door might open at any second, and who knew what would lie behind it.

Maybe a Rancor. Maybe a Jawa.

Or maybe it would be stars.

Having raised my head, I took a puffy-eyed glance around the hull. The first thing that caught my attention was the round window from before.

I had never seen anything so breathtaking. What was this? Why were there streaks of light - blues and whites - flying past us.

I couldn't help myself.

Rising up on sore muscles and blistered feet, I shuffled my way to the window’s ledge. I lifted a hand and placed a few fingers on the lip, the cool glass feeling nice on my warm skin.

It was truly mesmerizing. Was this space? Was that truly what the galaxy looked like? Just a blur of little stars and planets, flying by so fast they looked like thin threads.

I would make something keen to a blanket from those threads. It would be blue, white, and black. It would look just as beautiful as the scenery beyond the glass. I would sleep under it - under thousands of stars. No one would touch me under my little blanket. I would be too lost in the galaxy for them to find me anyhow.

“Clothes.”

I jumped, spun on my feet and pulled my hands to my chest.

Paz stood at the bottom of the ladder. I hadn't even heard him come down.

He held a bundle of clothes in one hand, and in the other was my collar which no longer displayed the holo.

“You’ll get cold in what you’re wearing, so I thought you might like to change,” Paz said.

He had brought me clothes? From the looks of it, they were big and made from thick looking wool. They must have been his.

Of course! This whole time he had been dressed from head to toe in armor, while I was still clad in that skimpy dancer’s outfit. I must have been making him uncomfortable.

“... Um. I can set them in the ‘fresher for you.”

Oh. I should say something. “That’s ok,” I said, taking a few steps toward him. “You don’t have to do that.”

My eyes must have been puffy. I wanted to rub at them.

Paz handed me the clothes.

“Thank you,” I said. I took one last glance at him before I started walking away. I tried my best not to let on to my hurt feet. I had already been given more care from him than I ever had from anyone else before. I didn’t want to bother him.

Stepping into the refresher, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I had good hygiene habits and was always keeping myself clean - I had just never used a shower with water before. Sonic showers were all that was allowed at Jabba’s. Tatooine was a planet with so little water it had to be carefully extracted from the air. Water showers were considered wasteful luxuries very few could afford.

Should I ask Paz how this worked? Maybe not, he must have been busy. I could just skip the shower all together, but I would still be covered in a layer of sweat and sand. Then again, what if I started to fiddle with something and ended up breaking his nice shower? That didn’t sound too great either. Hmm…

Welp… I suppose the worst that could happen was a bruised cheek and unanswered question.

Clutching his clothes tightly to my chest, I turned around and poked my head out from the doorway.

Sitting on a crate on the other end of the hull was the big blue Mandalorian. He was fiddling with my collar, taking it apart and organizing the parts.

I wondered what that red blinking thing was.

“Paz?” I called, my voice feeling small and unsure.

His head shot up and he immediately stopped what he was doing. “Yes, Sarad?”

I would ask what that meant another time.

“Um, I-I don’t know how to use your shower,” I weakly admitted.

Paz stood up and slowly walked over to me.

I flinched as he passed, not having expected him to actually enter the small room. He must not have thought my question was that dumb after all.

Paz gestured to a few knobs and switches on the wall.

“This one,” he pointed. “Turns the water on while this other one controls the temperature.”

“Temperature?” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Paz turned his head to look at me. “The hot water doesn't last very long though, but I wouldn't worry about it too much.”

“Oh…” Then I wouldn't waste his hot water.

What would a hot shower feel like? Sonic showers were the same temperature as the air in the rooms they were in. They had no temperature control. Could I make this shower have cold water?

“These other switches are for the lights, but you don’t have to worry about those for now either,” Paz explained.

“Thank you,” I said, setting his clothes onto the small counter.

I felt something brush against my shoulder, and I tensed.

“I hope this won’t scar,” whispered Paz, running a gloved finger just under the skin of my irritated neck. “Though it would be a show of your strength. Resilience.”

My strength?

“...Paz?”

“Hmm.”

“...Have...Have you ever had a slave before? Owned one, I mean.”

Paz’s hand immediately retreated to his side. “No.”

A curt answer. Short and to the point. I supposed I should have elaborated.

“Well, I don’t mean to be-” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. “-Overbearing, or anything. But, what would a Mandalorian want with a slave?”

“... Excuse me?”

Yep, this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have asked. I should have kept my mouth shut and-

“Is that what you still think you are? Do you think you’re my slave?” Paz asked, though I don’t think I was supposed to answer. Was it malice in his voice or disappointment?

Maybe I wasn’t his slave, but rather he was taking me to someone else. Perhaps he didn’t like that word - slave - and wanted to call me something different. Or maybe-

Oh. That’s right. He thought I was someone from his childhood. Someone he had lost.

“You, (Y/n), are not a slave. You never will be again, do you understand?”

I weakly nodded my head.

“I need you to say it. You are not a slave.”

“...I’m not a slave,” I said, though I didn’t actually believe those words. There must have been a catch to this.

“You can go wherever you want and do whatever you want. If you want me to drop you off on the closest planet, just tell me. If you want to say what’s on your mind, say it. You are not in chains anymore, and you certainly don’t belong to anyone. You are free,” Paz said, his voice was firm.

I’m not a slave. I can do what I want. I can say what I want… I-

“I am free,” I whispered. I felt a lump forming in my throat.

I did not belong to Paz. He had freed me. He was giving me this opportunity to start over.

All I could do was nod my head while my throat closed up and I tried to keep the waterworks from starting. I could feel my lip starting to quiver and I hoped the big blue Mandalorian would leave before the dam broke.

Paz nodded his head, “Good. No one can tell you what to do ever again.” He then brushed past me and into the hull. The door closed behind him.

I stood there for a moment, focused on my breathing and not my racing heart.

I turned on the water like Paz showed me and started taking off my- Oola’s clothes.

I stepped into the shower, muscles tensing at the cold temperature. I intentionally set it that way so I wouldn't waste any warm water.

I felt the droplets cascade down my face. It soon became difficult to tell what water was from the shower and what came from my silent crying.

I felt so overwhelmed with happiness and fear. I was ecstatic at the prospect of no longer being a slave. Paz said no one could tell me what to do anymore. I liked that. I didn’t want to be forced into anything ever again.

However, this brought forth so many new questions. What was I going to do with myself? Where would I go? Would Paz want me around? Did I even want to stay with Paz? I didn’t even know how to survive on my own. If Paz dropped me off on some foreign planet, I would have no idea how to make a life for myself.

Damn the maker, I couldn't even read!

Stepping out of the shower and turning it off, I took a look at myself in the mirror.

Who was that? I had never seen myself all wet before. My hair looked a shade darker and was weighed down by all the water it had soaked up. Was this what people normally looked like after getting wet?

I had never felt so clean. I was refreshed and much calmer than I had been before. I decided I would never use a sonic shower again if I could avoid it.

Water showers were much nicer.

I took the clothes Paz had given me and put them on. They were far too big. The black long-sleeved shirt was more like a dress on me. The sleeves hung past my fingers in a way that made me feel like I could gently slap something with them. The pants, on the other hand, were gray loose-fitting sweats, likely meant more for lounging than for bounty hunter work. They were also much too long, so I rolled them up till I could see my feet.

These must have been clothes that Paz slept in.

I had to reuse the undergarments that came with Oola’s outfit. Maybe I could ask Paz to take me someplace where I could get my own.

Maybe… Or I could just rewash these and not bother him with it. What would be worse, asking for new clothes or asking for a place to wash these? Hmm… I didn’t know what would be less trouble for him.

Walking out of the ‘fresher, I saw Paz had once again been working on my collar. I wondered what he was doing with it.

I had my- Oola’s clothes folded and clutched to my chest. I stood there awkwardly.

What would I do now?

“Um, thank you,” I said.

Paz looked up from where he sat.

“For everything, I mean… I’ve never taken a shower with water before. It’s really nice.”

Paz nodded his head. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long day and I’m sure you're tired.”

I was. My feet still hurt and so did my neck. Would this Mandalorian go to sleep as well?

“Ok,” I said.

I remember Paz saying I could sleep in his bed, so I made my way to his quarters.

Opening the door and walking it, the room was much smaller than I imagined it would be for such a big Mandalorian.

In fact, it wasn’t even really a room. It was only a bed and took up the whole space.

I crawled inside and shuffled around to pull back the sheets. I layed down on the only pillow, leaving the door up as to not feel boxed in.

Then I realized my damp hair was making the pillow wet so I pushed the pillow aside and layed down without it.

How did Paz fit in here? There was no way I could imagine him sleeping comfortably in such a tight space.

Regardless, this was the best thing I had ever laid on. It was much nicer than a soiled mattress with only a thin blanket.

It was warm too. Much warmer than what I was used to. Everything was soft and cozy. I felt safe here.

Safe enough to fall asleep.

(Part 4 coming soon!)

Mandoa Translations:

“Shereshir be Ade” - “Kidnapping of Children”

“Ni ceta” - an apology (rare)

“Sarad” - “Flower”

(If you are interested in being added to the tag list, please tap/click this link Tag List & More 💕 Same goes for being taken off the tag list 😊)

@abysshaven​ | @maddie-madz | @lovely-lil-creme​ | @courageinthemidst​ | @remmysbounty​ | @sacredmirrxrs | @honimello​ 

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz viszla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x y/n #paz vizsla x you #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #also on ao3

[homeformyheart]

first kid vs. last kid - edward x f!mc (ds)

author’s note: thank you for the ask! i debated for a long time whether or not to write this one because i hadn’t written for DS before and i haven’t written anything involving kids/family. and the prompt itself naturally lends itself to fluff and so overall this was harder than normal XD. 

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. series/pairing: distant shores – edward x f!mc (peyton bellamy) rating/warnings: 13+ word count: 1.6k

first vs. last prompts / 4. first kid vs. last kid

first kid

peyton gripped the white stick until her knuckles paled, her fingers purposefully covering the little window that mocked her with two pink lines. she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears of panic prickling her eyelids to stay away, and trying to force her body to breathe.

as if on cue, the pressure on her lungs gave way and she gulped down as much air as she could, feeling it push through her body like the water pressure on a firehose. once she was done gasping, her mind wandered and led her to the poseidon ii, where she welcomed how the sun beat down on her face as she balanced her way around the rocking deck. her mind continued flipping through her memories like it was her picflix streaming list, pausing every so often to play a 30-second trailer.

she didn’t fight it when her mind took her to the bustling town square in tiburon, where she welcomed the mindless chatter of pointless gossip from the townsfolk. and of course, she pressed pause when her mind took her to that island with the dolphins and shimmering blue waves, where she let herself swim alongside a man who seemed more and more like a dream with every passing day.

she took slow, deep breaths through her nose and let her mind wander back to that island, the beach, and edward sitting beside her. and she knew, even though she wasn’t ready to really think about becoming a mother, that this baby was hers and edward’s – solid proof that he was real, that their love is real.

1 year later

peyton wrapped her arms tightly around the blankets encasing her son, holding him against her chest as he nursed. as soon as he was done, edward gently cradled their child to burp him before laying him down in a makeshift crib they built with materials on the ship.

when she appeared on the docks in tiburon only three months after giving birth, peyton didn’t expect she’d get to stay for very long. the compass had called to her frequently throughout her pregnancy, the weeks that passed in-between trips translated to months in the past. thankfully, time travel didn’t seem to have lasting impacts on her pregnancy, with the exception of amplified morning sickness from constantly being on the water. peyton was also grateful that the compass didn’t call her during or immediately after she gave birth; even though edward would’ve wanted to be there, she was relieved that modern healthcare would surround her at such a terrifying time.

“edward, can we talk?” she said quietly once it was clear their son was asleep.

“of course, my love. what’s on your mind?” edward asked, moving to sit next to her on the bed and wrap his arm around her waist.

peyton leaned into his side. “i don’t know how much longer i’ll get to stay. i want us to be prepared.”

edward slowly tucked some loose hair behind peyton’s ear before locking eyes with her. “what do you mean?”

she felt something lodge in her throat at the same time the tears started prickling behind her eyes. “edward – in case i get sent back, i want you to raise our son. i don’t want to force him to grow up in two very different worlds, it would be so disruptive and i don’t want you to be alone.”

“no, a child should be with his mother. he needs you and you will be able to make sure he grows up in a safer environment. pirating is no life for a child,” edward said firmly.

peyton shook her head vigorously, trying to keep her voice low so as not to wake their son. “a son needs his father. he needs you.”

edward looked at her with such softness, peyton felt her heart break as the weight of her reality settled in – the reality that she may not have a future with the man she loved.

“you must do what is best for you and our son. your whole future is ahead of you. and your time would be better for him,” he said softly, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand.

“i don’t want to leave you. i love you, edward,” peyton said between soft sobs, her body starting to feel weighed down by fatigue.

“and i love you from the bottom of my heart, miss peyton bellamy,” edward whispered into her ear as he held her tight.

as she drifted off to sleep, peyton vaguely remembered that edward hadn’t responded to her request that he raise their son should she get sent back to the future. it didn’t matter though, because when she woke up, she was in her own time, and alone.

last kid

five years. peyton could hardly believe that it had been five years since she last traveled through time. it was something they didn’t talk about, out of concern that speaking their fears out loud might tempt fate. superstitions aside, peyton was grateful that she was back in time with edward and the crew that had become her family. it honestly felt as though she had returned home – with charlie and ginny echoing those sentiments ten-fold.

she was incredibly grateful that their son was only two years old when she returned. time travel was finnicky but at least she hadn’t disappeared for too long in edward’s time, lest their son’s implicit memory of her fade. even though for her it had only been a few months, their dynamic had changed significantly considering edward had been raising their son on the ship as a single father. it took some time for them to adjust to a new normal with each other given the constant threat of time travel taking her away again and a son to raise.

but to peyton, the challenges and hardships were nothing compared to the pure joy she felt at being with the loves of her life. she would bend over backwards and adapt as well as she could to a pirate life as a mother and wife if it meant she could be with them forever.

for edward, he had to unlearn the hardened ways in which he kept his son close and the protective harshness he deployed to anyone who threatened those defenses. despite his nightmares and worries, their son took to peyton like a moth to a flame, a true representation of what a mother means to a son and vice-versa.

she watched from where she was sitting against a tree as edward played with their son, whose laughter was so carefree and infectious, peyton felt herself getting emotional each time she heard it. edward looked up and made eye contact with her, giving her that loving smile she knew she would never get used to seeing.

peyton didn’t realize she had become lost in thought until edward cleared his throat gently from behind her. she looked over and gave him a warm smile, noticing that their son was preoccupied with chasing butterflies a short distance away.

“what is on your mind, my love?” he asked, sitting down next to her.

she gave him a long, contemplative look. “it’s been five years since i’ve last traveled, and i… i want to expand our family.”

if she took edward by surprise, the only tell was the miniscule movement of his left eyebrow.

when he stayed silent, peyton continued, “i want to have another child with you, edward.”

“are you sure? what about–?”

peyton cut him off with a shake of her head. “i don’t think we’ll have to worry about it anymore. i can’t explain it, but i haven’t been able to sense the compass in years. i think i’m here to stay and I want to grow our family.”

edward touched his forehead to hers. “i would love nothing more, mrs. mortemer.”

3 years later

“mama! papa! can we go explore over there by the trees?”

peyton put a hand on her swollen belly. “yes, but be careful darling. and watch your brother!” she called out.

her oldest son grabbed the hand of his younger brother’s, slowing his gait down to match his brother’s waddle. edward chuckled as he wrapped an arm around peyton’s waist, tucking her into his side and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead.

“those two will be absolute terrors for the crew to keep track of in a couple of years,” he said, his voice thick with affection.

peyton turned to her husband to give him a soft kiss. “that’s why i really want this last one to be a girl.”

“and if it’s not? do you want to keep trying until we have a girl? you know i love having a family with you,” he said softly.

“as much as i’d like to have another female in our house, i think this little one will have to be our last,” she said as edward laid a hand on her belly.

the experience she had during the last pregnancy and birth, which she had to endure without the advances in medicine from the future, was more than enough for one lifetime. but she really wanted a little girl.

“let us hope and pray that this one is the little girl that will complete our family then,” edward said as they walked hand-in-hand after their two sons.

* * * * * mentions: @raleigh-edward; @khoicesbyk permatag: @withbeautyandrage; @agentnolastname; @freckles-spangledvampire;

#choices #reposting for new blog #choices fanfic #choices fanfics #distant shores #pb choices #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #not twc #my writing #edward mortemer #peyton bellamy #edward mortermer x mc #choices distant shores #choices ds #my prompt fill #choices prompt fills #anon

[rinharu-purple]

Mr. Love MC’s Choice: Gavin

We fellow producers all have our favorite LI in the game for whom we save our gems and dates, replay their chapters over and over again, sucking our bank accounts dry during the process. And that’s what makes this game so fun! However in my opinion MC’s personal choice is Gavin. I will try to explain it as thoroughly as possible in this post. Obviously they are only my personal opinions at the end of the day so please don’t freak out if you beg to differ ^_^

There are spoilers ahead and this post is a long one, you were warned!

A big, warm hug and grandious thanks to @smallersocksx​ for proof reading so fast and sharing her ideas! <3  </p>

Up until now, I’ve always analyzed ships in subtopics, so this time won’t be any different so I will just dive right into it:

Body Language

The law of attraction between two people in a romantic way has some thumb rules, one of them is that when you like someone then you try to touch them at every opportunity. From all of our LI’s Gavin is by far the one with the most body contact to the MC (The main story only atm, I will come to his dates in a minute ;)). I think the anime speaks for itself, in every single Gavin episode and some of other LI’s episodes (ahem…ep 10 but also ep 11…ahem) Gavin and MC are always in an embrace or a meaningful “hands-on” moment…In the game MC and Gavin are quite often touchy with each other, MC seems to not holding her hands back every time she feels like Gavin’s hurt and reflexively touches him, she is also highly concerned about his hair since every time his hair get messed up by the wind, rain or hormones (swh ;)), MC doesn’t waste any second before correcting his hair. Every reunion they have results in MC reaching out her hands towards Gavin and surprisingly never other way around. Even in a perillious moment in chapter 22 when Gavin goes completely wild and unleashes his “beast-self” the first thing MC wants to do is embrace him. In chapter 24, at the very end among all routes, MC only tells Gavin that she’s missed him and hugs him. Chapter 27...again MC wants to check Gavins body for injuries and tends to them the second they are alone in a closed room. They both yearn for each other’s touch all the way, no matter in which narrative.

If I were to start counting Gavin’s touchy touchy moments on the other hand, then we have to prepare a 4 volumes encyclopedia because that male individual is all about touching MC. Another hint for their closeness is that MC makes notes on Gavin’s scent quite often, mostly related to his jacket or his embrace and while doing it, she always uses adjectives like “clean”, “distinct” or “unique”. Again in ch. 15 she knows its Gavin standing behind her even without looking, because she senses his scent: “A scent that I’d recognize anywhere”. Surely there are many scenes, where MC holds hands with another LI or makes a remark of their scent, but they are not at the intensity or frequency level that of Gavin’s.

       2. The Setting

All four LI’s are representing a certain archetypes women are usually attracted to:

Kiro is a pop idol (target audience 13-15)

Victor is the young successful businessman with a high dominant demeanour and Mr. Grey-ish attitude (target audience 25 upwards or any 50 shades of Grey reader)

Lucien is a young attractive professor with a mysterious and enigmatic vibe (target audience 20-24)

Gavin is the misunderstood bad boy (high school) and later a righteous police officer (16-19 for the bad boy Gavin and 20 upwards for the righteous police officer, special agent, military commander... a pilot?! anything including a uniform fetish)

So, in the game, Elex could take any of these paths and develop it in a way that the chosen path becomes a true love story. I gotta admit, Victor’s story comes at times very close to being one. However, his never-ending bickering and belittling in his 90% of the time cold demeanour just make him lose major points. Plus, MC mostly goes along with Victor’s tone, even though she is a kind and friendly person, she bickers with Victor not because that’s her personality but because that’s the way she can cope with him. If only he were a little bit less domineering.. Which is why I never feel like MC and Victor would belong together irl. 

Seemingly Elex and Mappa take Gavin’s way imo. Because… 

In the main story MC loves all of the LIs in a different way and also has romantic feelings to each one of them to a certain degree, but when we look at it closely and read in between the lines of MC’s thoughts Gavin is a little bit more romantically portrayed than the other guys. 

           a) First of all Gavin had a crush on MC during high school cannonically: Even though Gavin only says that it was a farewell letter, MC says once that she wishes that she could’ve read that “love letter”.  I will stop here with Gavin’s feelings because this post focuses on MC. 

           b) MC, too, was kinda into Gavin during high school because in Episode 18, when she goes to Loveland Hugh during her farewell tour before going with her ultimate sacrifice , she remembers Gavin in intimate things like “watching his athletic body” or “wearing men’s clothes-meaning his-”. Additionally she remembers taking note of his face shining in the sun in the very back of the line during her recital. Even before it all she was specifically interested in him. Her memories with the other LI s are comprised of rather friendly moments like flying kites together but when it comes to Gavin she once again thinks about more intimate elements. Not to mention that the game gives MC a farewell with Gavin. In her final moments she only thinks that for Gavin her grievance would be the hardest. In the End of the Abyss era (ch. 15-18) MC meets all of the LIs after their changes again and reacts to all of them with joy…surely, but only when she sees Gavin hovering above her in the helicopter it is again…drum roll…drama: “The next second I saw a pair of amber eyes…shining like brilliant skies” this girl is always romanticizing Gavin.

“-Can you hear me?

-Can you see me?

-See my heart pounding again at the sight of you?” (so are you saying that your heart wasn’t pounding before? oh ok ;))

Fast forward to CH34 where MC fights Leto for the final time and remembers our guys and again, while she remembers other LIs for their sacrifices and their protection of her, she remembers Gavin's warm arms...

           c)The game takes his time and turns the half of a whole chapter into a date in chapter15 Ep 1-9. There is no other chapter in the game where MC spends time with any of the other LI’s in which there is only the two of them, whereas nothing relevant to the main story happens and they share solely many sweet, romantic and almost hot (when MC tries to dry Gavin’s face in her flat and realizes that she stands way too close to him, she then prepares herself to say something, but gets interrupted by the alarm) and again, MC is getting close to Gavin, not the other way around like Lucien pushing MC against the blackboard, that little sneaky Lucien (actually I could write a post with a masterlist of Lucien’s advances to MC:D).

           d) MC’s premonitions revolve mostly around Gavin (when they are not about the whole world or the black queen). Her dream about the rooftop rescue, her Room 404 dream, her daydream in the office in 6-13 in which Gavin’s suffering and from which she wakes up crying out his name leading to Willow, Kiki and Anna remark on playfully how unfair it is to dream about Gavin and disregarding the other guys. She also sees his future in episode 15 twice! If I am not mistaken, she only sees Victor’s future once in her dream and a vague vision of him in ch 18 but other than that she has no premonitions about Lucien or Kiro. Besides in the anime MC uses her power unintentionally yet instinctively twice while having Gavin in mind in episodes 5 and 8. The third time, she uses her powers in this way is in episode 11 with Victor but he is not her driving force for this but she is driven by the imminent danger they both are in and she doesn’t particularly think about Victor at this moment. In the game it additionally happens in chapter 22 when Gavin is cornered by the mechanical arms and is in a tight spot, this sight makes MC have a surge of rage and to unleash her powers in a great magnitude. Gavin is Queen’s soft spot i.e. More importantly Gavin is a constant part of MC’s future frame. She has her visions about other LI’s past but when it comes to Gavin it’s only his future. MC doesn’t have visions about Gavin’s past, like, ever. While Kiro, Lucien and Victor are stuck in their pasts with MC, Gavin has made peace with his past, is living in the present and looking forward the future (one of his best qualities imo, not being stuck in the past). Ironically, it’s MC, who’s stuck in the past in Gavin’s case. 

       e) I will intentionally not delve much into S2 stuff, but one thing has to be in this post…We know that in S2 MC goes back in time and relives the last 17 years. During these 17 years she makes sure to spend her high school years close to Gavin. So given the chance to rewrite her past, she would choose to make good for the lost years that she regretted dearly in S1 (she gushes out about her regrets in S2 Late Autumn Date in detail). We are yet to find out more about the nature of their relationship during high school, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a “will they, won’t they” situation. Since the game wouldn’t put any of the guys in an ex-boyfriend role, that would be the most romantic frame possible.

        3.  How other people see Gavin x MC

f) In CH 36, the one before CH 37, where every LI gets the same intimate moment with MC, only Lucien and Gavin are getting close to kissing her to which MC doesn't show any rejection towards... She is the one accidentally kissing Gavin btw and this is the only time before CH37 that MC either accidentally or willingly kiss any LI on his face or near his lips.

g) In S1, MC only posts two pics with the boys in her moments. One of them is a selfie with Lucien and the second one is with Gavin, hugged from behind. No other LIs ever have a moment with MC. Neither on their accounts, nor on MCs.

It is always a good indicator to look at how other characters perceive a particular ship. For Gavin and MC, it is almost obvious that once they are standing side by side, others see them instantly as a couple. Sure, at the orphanage some children ask Lucien if MC is his girlfriend or that one actress threatens MC to stay away from Victor because he’s hers (btw what happened to her?) With Gavin however, it’s practically a running joke. 

As mentioned above, her once daydream in the office with Gavin shoutout in CH 6-13 drew the attention of her co-workers, leading them to mock her for thinking about him too much even though her dream was rather a nightmare. Besides, Gavin is the one showing up the most in MC’s office and he also lift her up to his shoulders once in the Visiting Hours date and Homer took a pic of that hilarious moment. 

Every time MC is at STF HQ, respectively, Gavin’s co-workers or subordinates too take note of her presence and in chapter 12 they are even caught red-handed by one of the agents as MC is busy “correcting” Gavin’s hair (because see point 1). Eli seems to be aware of the intimacy between the two and even probably assumes that they’ve done the deed, because in ch 12 he is surprised to hear that MC hasn’t seen Gavin’s wound yet. He presumes that she already saw him naked…oh Eli! Season 2 has even more eminent scenes, we just have to wait and see.

In chapter 15 when they deliver Perry to the hospital, they are mistaken to be his parents by the hospital personnel not once but twice! Needless to say, they don’t find it necessary to correct the misunderstanding. I mean Perry is, what, 6…MC 22, Gavin 24 but they automatically think that they must be the parents?! Sure thats common sense- wink wink nudge nudge ¬‿¬ -

In chapter 22 Shaw makes a comment on MC willing to go to where Gavin is  with a “Really, all you do is following him, isn’t it?”. He uses MC to trigger Gavin in Airport date as well.

And of course, there is Minor…The ultimate number one wingman and the most original Gavin-stan! Minor uses everything in his power to bring them together both in the main story and in dates. He even calls her Sis-in-Law in public in CH 35 which MC doesn't reject. This doesn’t even need explanation.

Last but not least:

Their couple chemistry went viral lol.

Visually speaking, when they stand side by side, for me Gavin and MC look the most like a couple (Kiro is too childish and fashion icony compared to MC and Victor is too mature and business attire-ish making him look like her uncle rather than boyfriend, Lucien is the only one besides Gavin who actually suits MC visually). I am not saying that looks are the main indicator btw so don’t lynch me please ^_^

Come to think about it, MCs life is intertwined with that of Gavin's the most. Considering how she knows his father, brother and colleagues and spends so much time in "his world" whether it's at STF or NW. In the main story MC and Gavin have their favorite restaurants (ehm it's never souvenir due to obvious reasons 😉), share the same passion for music, have many common memories from high school and most importantly their world views are very similar. Both are prioritizing others safety over themselves and are compassionate for anyone who is in need. They are both ambitious and hardworking but not to the point of being power driven. Both are humble and finding hapinness in the smallest things. Maybe that's why they say the same things simultaneously or say the things the other would say simultaneously. MC and Gavin are highly compatible and have a harmonious, healthy relationship despite the conspiracy around them.

     4. Anime

Okay okay, listen…Yes, the anime wasn’t the best adaptation and many of us were disappointed by the ending (including me), still, the anime makes a part of canon MLQC universe and no Gavin-stan should complain about the anime because the anime put canonically Gavin on a pedestal. In a total of 12 episodes, all guys had 2 episodes each BUT Gavin was actually blessed with 3 episodes and so many romantic moments to count…let’s count them anyways :)

Mappa introduces all guys in episode 1 so MC encounters them all in the first 25 minutes but she first meets Gavin in episode 2 and the two spend almost the entire time of the episode together, not to mention the extremely romantic first-fly scene in the sunset. As I mentioned in point 1, MC and Gavin are always in physical contact in any given episode. Anime made sure to portray every single interaction they have romantically.

They even went so far to mix Gavin scenes in other guys episodes (he offers her a ride to work in ep 3, she has an emotional moment with him after the first shooting misunderstanding while Lucien is standing right next to her in ep 4, Gavin is the one to catch MC mid-air in ep 10, this episode ends with them in their life and death embrace falling down in dawn… and then he falls on her in ep 11).

When it’s a Gavin episode MC has no romantic scenes with any of the other guys, let alone having any scenes at all. Its only about Gavin in Gavin episodes. Also, the storyline is edited in a way that between MC and Gavin a romantic story develops. Their meet cute conspiracy, their misunderstanding with Lucien, followed by the “drop the senpai” offer and finally that 5 seconds long gaze deeply in the eyes in ep 8 while holding hands.

It is really sad that the anime ruined this development in the final episode but taking into consideration that there might be a second season, they probably chose to make the change in Gavin’s character after the NW project remarkable.

Another point in the anime is  that they kinda exaggerate Gavin’s Evol a little bit. During his stand-off with Lucien Gavin’s bullet cuts through Lucien’s shield and all in ep 8,11 and 12 there is a significant emphasis on the intensity and destructive power of Gavin’s Evol. I mean, whose Evol is the most upfront one in episode 12? We see Lucien using his Evol only twice, both very briefly, Kiro/Helios/Key and Victor even have to use guns to protect themselves and/or MC. Gavin’s shown using a pistole once at the beginning, after that it’s all turbines and tornadoes and just Gavin unleashed. 

I think it’s an exaggeration because in my personal opinion, Lucien is actually the one with the strongest Evol, followed by Victor and then comes Gavin. Lucien’s ability to copy an Evol is simply the strongest trait one could have, sure it comes with the downside that he then doesn’t have enough time and focus to excel in any of those Evols, Victor can literally create black holes are you kidding me?! But because his Evol has its limits it puts him in the second place. But in the anime, Gavin’s Evol is extremely powerful and destructive and they also created some really cool scenes in which Gavin uses his Evol in various styles (accelerating his bullets speed, dodging a bullet, lifting MC in any and every situation, flying- obviously- and sometimes just overpowered destruction).

But in the anime in comparison, Lucien looks like a copy-cat of Evols and Victor like someone who travels through time to find out nothing can change the course of events (on a side note I will never understand why did Mappa toned down Victor so heartlessly, he is a  powerful character and has countless sweet, emotional moments with MC).

        5. Dates

I left dates to the end because they are highly subjective and don’t belong to the main story. NEVERTHELESS, Gavin’s dates include here and there some hints which may indicate that MC tends to like Gavin maybe just a little bit more. I will just add it as bullet points here since I’m pretty sure that the list will be enriched over time.

Slightly drunken date: Shouting out loud in public “Gavin! I’m crazy for you!”

When the Galaxy Falls Date: “...and in that moment, I make an eternal vow in my heart. To give all the blazing love and the most endless warmth to the person in front of me. Standing on my tiptoes, I carry a heart which is filled with courage to move forward, receiving Gavin.”

2 become 1 date “No matter whether the wedding is real or fake I only want to be your bride.”  Here comes the Groom event where MC had a prob wedding with each and every LI but she actually only wanted to be Gavin’s bride (obviously Gavin’s heard her loud and clear since he’s bought a gem/ring right after) and that gem is brought up in…

The Returning from Afar Date - Thank you for silently watching over my mood. Thank you for always returning to my side no matter where you go. The white muslin drifts to and fro. My heart stirs, and I gently touch the muslin in front of me. Sunlight streams in. My fingertips brush the soft white muslin, tracing the word “Gavin” on it. I turn my head to the side, blinking at Gavin a little playfully. “This word - apart from it being your name, it also has another meaning. It’s “courage”. MC getting poetic, but who wouldn’t in that date (thank you @smallersocksx for reminding me and without @cheri-translates we poor Eng-server players would be left in the dark so thank you for translating season 2 for us!!!) but than MC verbally and literally makes her feelings clear in…

Late autumn date (2nd season translation by @cheri-translates) “I close my eyes, holding onto his solid arms. I lift my head to welcome his lips, savouring his unique breath. The person in front of me has shed off the roughness of youth, leaving behind only the purity of youth. He often makes me forget that he once used to be unrestrained like the wind. He has a body that is stronger than everyone else’s, a tough soul, a will that is as firm as steel, and a heart full of tenderness – it is soft beyond compare. 

I cling to his waist tightly using my calves, wanting to brand every part of him into my heart. 

“I want to bear his everything.” 

Gavin: “Do you like it?”

“I like it…I like it very much…I like it so much that I don’t know how to prove how much I like it” “The rest of my life is yours, The years that we’ve missed out on are also yours” (whatever I have, I will give it to you. I will give everything to you, leaving nothing behind)

I rest my case

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc haku #mlqc bai qi #mlqc baek gi #mr love queen's choice #koi to producer #studio mappa #elex #papergames #mldd #analysis #tag your otp #romance #anime couple

[willcwthewisp]

spirited away | eddie & willow

TIMING: before mother’s day. LOCATION: willow’s apartment. PARTIES:  @specterchasing and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: eddie goes on a medium-driven chore, but gets medium uno reversed. also the spiderman meme except it’s mediums.

Willow sighed as she lowered her paint brush, feeling that familiar nagging sensation tingling in her neck that came whenever a portrait wasn’t quite right. It looked fine— lovely, even. But there was simply something amiss that the ghost in question hadn’t approved of, and she’d lost the snippets he was saying to her quite some time ago, as if his words had flitted out her open wind on the breeze. Oh well. The piece would be a nice one to sell, and there still might be a person who recognized what it was that she’d painted. There’d been quite a few instances of people coming forward, asking questions about certain pieces she’d done that looked far too similar to their memories of loved ones, or scenes of their youth. That was generally when she passed the painting off to her brother, a medium and exorcist who was much better equipped to deal with the ghost of the painting, and the loved one that came along with it. 

It almost came as a relief when she heard a knock at her door. Almost. Rising from her place at the easel in her art room, she peered through the peephole of the door only to be met with the face of someone she’d never seen before. “Ah- sorry, can I help you?” she began nervously, already thinking of the disaster that could strike if she ended up having to open the door. She didn’t have any interest in causing a hospital visit today. Or any day for that matter. Maybe she should request to be moved to the first floor of her complex. Then it’d be a little less worrisome when it came to potentially throwing people across the hallway. 

Eddie had some reservations about showing up to a stranger’s house unannounced, but they were outweighed by curiosity and a sense of duty. The ghosts made Willow out to be someone like him. In all of Eddie’s years in White Crest, he’d never had the opportunity to meet someone else who could interact with the dead. Admittedly, it seemed like she had a knack for ignoring them and that didn’t sit well with him, but he tried to reserve judgement until there was proof beyond the claims of a few disgruntled apparitions. 

“Yeah, so, hey,” he said, eyes locked onto the peephole. It struck him as odd that she didn’t open the door, but they lived in White Crest, after all. Being careful saved lives. “I know you don’t know me and this is probably wicked weird for you, but I’ve got a message from a, uh, mutual friend that they’d really like you to hear. It’s a little private, so I’d feel a little more comfortable giving it to you in… well, private. You wanna open the door for me?” He thought about reassuring her that he wasn’t some kind of bloodlust-y murderer, but realized that would only make him seem more dangerous.

Willow’s fingers tapped nervously against the door, still looking through the peephole and reminding herself that this man couldn’t see her in return despite the eye contact he made. “A mutual friend?” she echoed, the phrase throwing her. She’d purposefully distanced herself from the bulk of her friends ever since this whole sporadically throwing people problem had come to her attention, and she hadn’t had all that many to begin with. It was a choice of her own, never having been someone to seek out the company of too many people. Willow had been more than happy with that before her telekinesis had made any company dangerous. Now she relied on the people she called at her telemarketing gig to remind herself she was alive. It wasn’t all that helpful when they were yelling half the time. 

The ability to say ‘no’ was another of her shortcomings, and Willow walked a few paces back and forth as the man asked to be let in. Going back to the door, she glanced at him once more through the peephole. “I...okay- alright. But just- don’t come too close, okay?” If she could keep a table between him and her, things should be alright. Without further delay, she was opening the door to reveal the interior of her apartment, already taking a few careful steps away from the man. 

When Eddie’s question was met with a few long moments of silence, he half-expected his venture to be rendered fruitless. He couldn’t find it in himself to blame Willow for not trusting him, but he did wonder where her sense of adventure was. If a stranger came knocking on his door with the promise of a vague message, they wouldn’t have been able to finish their sentence before he welcomed them in.

Just as he turned away from the door, she finally spoke up. A warning. “No problems there, I’m a big fan of boundaries,” he enthused as the door opened. Willow seemed even more skittish than the average White Crestian as she put ample space between them. Eddie decided not to let it bother him—she likely had her reasons.

“Okay, so, the friend in question is a little on the dead side,” he explained carefully as he stepped into the apartment. “Actually, there’s a few dead friends. Is that… like, is that unusual for you, having dead friends?” As accustomed as he was to having conversations with ghosts, he knew that wasn’t exactly normal. His parents made that perfectly clear to him. If Willow wasn’t as much like him as he hoped she was, he needed to ease her into the subject matter.

“Great- good, that’s good,” Willow babbled nervously as she did exactly as she’d planned, skirting around to the other side of the table that was in her kitchen while Eddie spoke. But the mention of dead friends was more than enough to catch her interest, and in a reflexive move she looked over to the chair that Kal often loved to frequent. He was the ghost she heard most reliably, and currently her best friend seeing as she’d banned herself to as much isolation as possible. Unfortunately she wasn’t entirely sure whether or not he was here at the moment, her focus pulled away from any attempts to perceive him by the stranger in her apartment. 

Thankfully, Kal had no problem speaking for himself. The ghost had already taken up a spot at Willow’s shoulder the moment Eddie had stepped into the apartment, feeling rather protective after the last stranger to enter Willow’s abode had left her tired and crying. “What do you want?” the ghost asked the man reflexively, not actually expecting an answer from one of the living. That was- until he recognized the familiar aura of what Eddie was. “Oh shit- you’re a medium, too?” 

Willow, still blissfully unaware of the guardian ghost asking questions on her behalf, was doing her best to play it close to the chest. She wasn’t entirely all that private about mediums and their abilities, but it wasn’t exactly the best idea to lead with ‘occasionally I see and hear dead people.’ “Um- do you have dead friends?” she asked, unable to come up with any better reply while being entirely oblivious of that fact that Kal had already given her away.

Willow’s babbling and general nervousness faded into the background the moment Eddie laid eyes on Kal. “I am!” he announced, eyes glistening with pride before finally prying them away to look at Willow. “Looks like we both do,” he said with a wide grin. Hope had taken hold of him before he reached Willow’s apartment, and now he knew it wasn’t in vain. Finally, he knew someone like him; someone he wouldn’t have to hide from, not that he usually did such a good job with keeping secrets. Eddie didn’t know how to be anything except himself, but he thought it might be nice to have someone in his life who didn’t look at him like he was speaking in tongues when he talked about the dead.

“You don’t have to hide anything from me, I’m just like you,” he told Willow. He thought it was a little strange that she apparently hadn’t heard the ghost out her, but maybe she was just playing it cool until she knew she could trust him. “Okay, maybe not just like you, but we’ve got a pretty cool common denominator.” 

Eddie took a moment to center himself. Amidst the excitement, he nearly forgot what he came here for. He looked back to Kal. “I’m just here to talk to her about her paintings, nothing weird, I promise.” Again, his eyes switched their focus to Willow. “See, some of our dead friends aren’t exactly happy with how they’re being portrayed, and they’ve been very adamant that I bring the issue up to you.”

Willow almost jumped at the stranger’s exuberance, momentarily confused while he replied to Kal. She still couldn’t hear the ghost, her mind moving far too fast at the moment for it to slow down enough to listen to her ‘dead friend.’ “Like me?” she repeated the words skeptically until he began speaking to Kal once again. “So you’re a medium?” Kal put his hands up as if trying to stop Eddie’s words before he could get them out...to little avail. “Hold on- don’t say that!” Willow’s paintings were one of the few, free joys the woman had left in the world, and he wasn’t too keen on seeing whatever reaction she might have in response to the other medium’s claims. 

But the words had been said, and Willow’s lips had already turned downwards into the beginning of a frown, looking towards the door of her art room and then back to Eddie. “They don’t like them?” Did they want her to stop? She’d always loved painting the stories she heard from the ghosts, even if some of them were sadder than the rest. Those were the paintings she also gave to her brother, the ones that had such miserable stories attached to them. Surely all ghosts deserved to move on if that’s what they wanted, but the ones that could only focus on their pain...that could only give Willow the traumatic stories of their demise, those were the ones that needed it the most. “I mean...I know my pictures aren’t perfect to what they remember but…” she trailed off with uncertainty, not entirely sure where that sentence had been going.

Kal’s warning went unfortunately unheeded, and Eddie only realized its importance once he saw the frown on Willow’s face. Her second question dampened his initial excitement. He didn’t know how important her paintings were to her, but it already sounded like he wounded her pride. So much for making friends.

“Well, I didn’t say that,” he quickly backtracked. “I’m sure they really appreciate the time and effort you put into memorializing them—I know I would.” Eddie spent more time than he cared to admit wondering about his own demise and what would follow it; how he’d be remembered. If someone cared enough to put his final moments on canvas, he couldn’t imagine being anything other than grateful. “Really, they just have a few minor critiques. You know ghosts, they can be a little picky.” He shot Kal an apologetic glance. “I know how hard it can be to feel the pressure of someone’s last wishes on your shoulders, it makes you really wanna do right by them, but there’s no way to do it perfectly every time, y’know? And only a few have come to me, so I bet you’re actually doing a really great job overall.”

The stranger was sure of the dead’s gratitude because the ghosts had said as much to him? Or was it because he assumed such a thing? “Did they...tell you that?” Willow asked tentatively, hoping that the answer might be yes. She didn’t paint solely for the ghosts, but it’d be nice to know that they got some enjoyment out of it as well. She’d always thought they liked having their stories listened to, being given a moment to relay something important of their life and seeing it painted before their very eyes. Still standing behind Willow was Kal, nodding his head emphatically as if he could provide the answer for Eddie, or at least signal the other man into giving a good one. 

The mention of ghosts being less than fond of her paintings was awkward enough, but now came the part where Willow had to tell this man that she actually wasn’t all that familiar with working for the dead, at least not in the way most mediums were. She wasn’t as self-conscious about her lack of abilities when it came to her family, having accepted long ago that she was different, and actually being somewhat grateful for the fact that she’d gotten to live a life of her own rather than one ruled by the departed. But when such an admission was being made to another medium that wasn’t related to her...well, it was nerve wracking to say the least. “Ah- well- about that. I don’t actually see and hear them all that well. Just sometimes. Not like the rest of my family or most mediums or whatever.” The last of his words had another semi-hopeful spark entering her eyes. “Really? You think so? Do you know which paintings the ones that have come to you are upset about?”

Seeing Kal’s emphatic nodding convinced Eddie to mirror the action. “Yeah, of course,” he said. In truth, they were usually more concerned with their grievances than what they enjoyed about Willow’s work, but Eddie felt like her spirit had been crushed enough for one evening. If she needed to hear a white lie to keep her self-esteem from folding in on itself, he would more than happily oblige. 

“Oh,” Eddie uttered upon hearing her confession, more interested in learning that her family shared her gift than anything else. He wondered what that must be like—to be surrounded by people that understood you. Mild jealousy flared in his gut. He thought he’d met someone like him, but instead it seemed to inhabit two completely different worlds. “At least you have people in your life who can help translate,” he offered, smiling sadly in spite of himself.

Willow’s follow-up question pulled him out of his self-pity. “Yeah, one sec.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and opened the notes app. “George, the guy who died in a house fire, he said his eyes weren’t that close together. Shelly, the elderly woman who died of natural causes, says that you got her bedroom all wrong—she can’t stand your choice of wallpaper. And, um, Andrea, killed by some kind of demonic moose, would like it if you painted her with a little more dignity. She swears she didn’t go out screaming.” Eddie looked up from his phone to see how much damage their criticism had done. “See? Not so bad, just… little things.”

“Really?” Willow asked again, rather smitten with the thought that the ghosts might like her work. Sure, the person she painted most for was herself but...it was still nice to hear that people had enjoyed your work— especially when they were the inspiration. “Well then...I’m glad they like it.” The very beginnings of a smile had taken to the corners of Willow’s lips, looking the most relaxed she had since this conversation began. 

But that smile quickly turned to concern as Eddie spoke. He didn’t have anyone with him? How had he learned about the world of ghosts in the first place? “You parents...they can’t sense ghosts?” Willow supposed the ability didn’t have to run in families, but she was rather biased when she’d been raised in a family full of spirit-sensing humans. “Well you know- if you ever needed someone to help you translate I’m sure anyone in my family would be happy to. Especially my mom or brother.” It’d been some ten minutes of knowing the man after he’d shown up unaccounted at her door, and she was already offering him access to her family. This was probably what some of her more cynical friends were talking about when they said her kindness would get her hurt. 

Willow listened carefully to his requests, trying to memorize them all before she realized she’d most likely forget. “Do you think you could send the list to me? I could give you my number.” Then he’d also have it if he had any ghost questions, and was too nervous to ask how to contact her in the future. Going over what she remembered from his list, her lips pursed ever so slightly as she thought of the paintings in question. She couldn’t be sure, but this seemed more like an issue of vanity rather than her skill. Except for the wallpaper one. She often filled in the lesser details of paintings that ghosts didn’t bother to outline with her own artistic license. “Yeah- not too big.” Now that it was clear it was more the ghost’s problem than her’s, she was somewhere closer to being set at ease.

At the sight of Willow’s sort-of-smile, Eddie grinned from ear-to-ear. It felt like he managed to do something right. “Yeah, me too,” he enthused. He didn’t know Willow well, or at all really, but he already had a sense she might need the validation. Eddie couldn’t blame her, he had a lot in common with Tinker Bell, himself. When the applause stopped, so did his heart. Considering that, he realized he might have been projecting, but doing so in this instance seemed harmless enough.

The smile dropped as quickly as it disappeared, giving Eddie a taste of emotional whiplash. Willow seemed concerned about him, he didn’t intend for that, but her offer struck him right in the heart. “I don’t really wanna bother anyone,” he said politely while every fiber of his being revolted against his ill-timed manners. “But, I mean, if they… if they would be happy to help, like you said, it’d probably be better for everyone if I took you up on that, right? Who wants an uneducated medium running around solo?” He shrugged while his heart beat wildly in his chest. Finally, people who would understand him. Eddie’s throat tightened as he considered the possibilities.

“Oh, yeah, no problem!” Eddie brandished phone and closed the distance between Willow and himself with little regard for how intentionally she’d cultivated it. “Here you go,” he said amicably as he offered the device to her.

Oh! The younger man looked very nice when he smiled, like he didn’t have a single intention to hurt anyone that lived in this world. The change in his demeanor had her mirroring it instinctually, and her own smile grew bigger— as if they were stuck in a feedback loop of grins. While he began to speak of being a bother, Willow’s head was already shaking in a fierce denial of the concept, not willing to let him disparage himself in her presence. “You’re not! I’m the one who offered, anyway! And I mean- it’s always nice to have more ghost friends, isn’t it?” Friends were the last thing she needed while she was a literal flight risk in the sense of sending those around her sailing via telekinesis. But she couldn’t just let him fumble in this strange world by himself. “Perfect, then! I could put you into contact with my brother first! He’s the most involved with all the spiritual stuff- he’s actually an exorcist in addition to his mediumship.” If this young man latched onto her brother, Forest, there was also less risk of him coming around Willow to get hurt. 

Gingerly accepting his phone while being careful to avoid any contact, Willow tapped her number into the contacts, adding her name to the entry. Oh, right- she hadn’t actually introduced herself quite yet. “I’m Willow, by the way. Willow Finch.” She made no inclination to offer a hand for shaking, still avoiding physical contact at all costs. 

The moment Willow uttered the words ‘ghost friends’, Eddie felt a rush of unexpected affection. His entire life, most people either completely denied the existence of ghosts or spoke poorly of them. For a moment, Eddie struggled to find the right words to say, an unheard of predicament for him. “Sorry,” he said with a laugh. “It’s just—you ever hear something that sounds too good to be true? I’m waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me.” Not only did her family have mediums, it had exorcists. He wondered if she knew how lucky she was.

Eddie watched as she entered her phone number, half-expecting it to begin with 555. “Oh, right, I kinda did walk into your home without telling you who I am, didn’t I?” It wouldn’t be the first time he disregarded common courtesy and overstepped boundaries, and it likely wouldn’t be the last either. “The ghosts told me your name, but I’m Eddie, Eddie Carridine. It’s awesome to meet you, Willow Finch.”

Willow’s heart already ached for him, recognizing a loneliness in his words that she knew intimately these days. Perhaps their situations of isolation were from different patterns, but they’d been cut from the same cloth. The feeling of being alone wasn’t kind in the least, no matter where it stemmed from. Not for the first time she wished she could lend someone physical comfort in addition to emotional solace, the desire to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder growing stronger the longer he stood in front of her. “Of course. The world can be disappointing in the worst ways,” she began softly while forcing herself to stay where she was. “But I also know me and my family. And I bet you’ll be begging to get rid of us before they’d even think about leaving you alone. It’s just not in our blood.” After all, wasn’t that one of the tenants of being a medium? Ensuring that not even the dead were left behind, let alone one of their own. Where that was potentially comforting to Eddie, it was less than ideal for Willow— constantly having to make her own space when it came to the people that loved and raised her for fear of hurting them. 

“You were just trying to help,” Willow began with a chuckle, the only reservations left in her being based around keeping Eddie out of arms-length. And so far he’d respected that. “And the dead...they have a lot less people helping them than the living- so I’m glad you did.” Her smile was softer this time, still settling into who she was while she was less concerned about a stranger being in her home. “It’s awesome to meet you too, Eddie.”

Kal elected this as good a time as ever to re-enter the conversation, some of his wariness stirpped away as the conversation proceeded. Besides— he was naturally inclined to like any medium he came across. “She means it- you know. About not leaving people alone. She can’t see me half the time, but she still talks to me. Even if she’s not even sure I’m here. She’d do the same for you.” It was why he’d become so attached to Willow in the first place, unable to deny the heart she had for caring.

Eddie smiled sadly when Willow mentioned disappointment. The world let him down a few times, but he placed the blame on himself more often than not. He made eye contact with his biggest disappointment every time he looked in the mirror. Willow swiftly pulled his mood out of the gutters of self-deprecation when she told him he wouldn’t be left alone, not by her family. A lump formed in his throat, forcing Eddie to convince himself not express such intense emotions around someone he met minutes ago. “Where’ve you guys been my whole life?” he asked, making an attempt at levity. Nothing she said felt real, but Eddie had a penchant for far-fetched beliefs.

“Yeah, you actually get it,” he said, nodding as he did. It made sense for a fellow medium to empathize with ghosts, but that didn’t make it any less surreal. “I’m glad I did too, otherwise we might not have ever met. That would’ve been a pretty big loss, I think.” He didn’t want to sound too certain, he knew how intense he could be. 

Kal captured his attention next, confirming what Willow said. The lump in Eddie’s throat quivered, forcing him to clear it. “You guys make quite the duo,” he observed. “I, um, appreciate it—everything, I mean.” His gaze turned back to Willow. “You didn’t have to be so kind, most people wouldn’t. So, I… yeah, I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”

Willow could tell he was on the verge of spilling over, she recognized it well when she’d seen it so often in herself. A gentle shrug tugged at her shoulders in response to his question, knowing he was trying to lighten the mood, but unable to perfectly match the nonchalance. “Just sitting here waiting, I guess. I think you’re actually running a bit late.” Another bell-like laugh trickled from her lips, not wanting to come on too strongly despite the kindness in her words. But she recognized a lost soul when she saw one, even if she’d seen less wandering spirits than most mediums had. 

She got it. Maybe not quite as much as someone with fully realized abilities, but she’d seen enough of it through her sister and brother, and parents as well. For a moment Willow was also overcome by emotion, her throat tightening as Eddie landed his compliments. How long had it been since she’d had such a tender moment in person? How long had it been since she’d made actual eye contact with someone for this extended amount of time? “I think I’m the one who would have been missing out,” she answered with the corners of her eyes crinkling in a welcoming happiness. She didn’t mind his intensity, oftentimes having a penchant for it herself when it came to the delicate side of life. 

Willow was silent a moment while she assumed Kal was talking to Eddie, reckoning the way his gaze flitted to the ghost over her shoulder. She’d seen it in the eyes of her family more than enough times. “Kal’s been here with me when...I haven’t been able to see much of anyone else. He does just as much for me as I do for him.” Possibly even more. “The way I see it- kindness is free, isn’t it?” Another shrug claimed her, and for a moment she thought she could almost feel Kal’s hand as he laid it onto her shoulder. “I’m just glad I can give it. You just focus on being kind to yourself, and we’ll call it even, yeah?” 

Fresh tears stung Eddie’s eyes. He immediately blinked them away, trying his best to save face. Showing his emotions rarely sat well with him, but he felt safe here even though he only just arrived. “Sorry,” he offered yet another apology as a second wave of tears formed in his eyes. “I’m sorry, this is probably so awkward.” He wondered what Willow thought of him crying at the first sign of kindness. Eddie pulled the hem of his jacket’s sleeve into his palm and wiped away the evidence of his emotional outpouring. “I promise, I don’t usually do this in front of people I’ve just met… or anyone, actually.” He let out an empty huff of laughter, suddenly unable to make eye contact.

The blows kept coming as Willow turned the compliment around on him. “Yeah, well, we’ll see,” he countered. “Get back to me when you’ve known me for a few hours.” Eddie felt pathetic and happy at the same time; exposed and protected. It didn’t make sense, emotions weren’t supposed to contradict each other so harshly, not in his experience.

Eddie watched as Kal’s hand rested on Willow’s shoulder. He said she couldn’t see him half the time, but Eddie liked to think he could recognize love when saw it. An irresistible urge came over him and, before better judgement could kick in, his arms wrapped around Willow.

Willow was a sympathy crier. There was no way around it, and her own eyes were beginning to well as she watched Eddie’s fill with tears, though her’s were born of the happiness that came from witnessing the weight fall from the other medium’s shoulders. Her heart ached for him, recognizing just how desperate he must be to break down so easily when faced with the bare minimum in terms of showings of kindness. Her own clumsy laugh danced with Eddie’s while she gave him whatever time he needed to recollect himself. She’d already decided she was going to ask him to stay for some juice and cookies. Or maybe wine and cookies? He looked fairly young, just at the cusp of drinking age. Someone so young should never have been as alone as he seemed, and her soul began to hurt all over again. 

All that turned to panic in the very blink of an eye as Eddie reached for a hug, and Willow’s hands were thrown out in front of her while she yelled frantically, “No! Don’t!” But it was too late, and as the young man came into contact with her hands she felt the telekinesis flash along with her flaring emotions. In another blink, he was pulsed back from her with a thrust far too powerful for the force to have come from her hands alone. “Oh god- oh god,” she gasped as she ran to his landing place on the couch. He’d fallen on something soft, but she wouldn’t feel relief until she knew he was alright. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh no- oh god I’m so sorry.” This time her tears were ones of dread and hopelessness. She should have known. Should have known things were going far too well, and that danger was lurking around the corner.

Eddie pushed the envelope often, it didn’t always end well, but he could honestly say that being telekinetically launched across the room was a first. He hit the couch with a thud, feeling like the air in his lungs had been knocked out of him. Before he could manage to sit up, Willow appeared next to him spewing apologies and concern. Eddie looked up at her, recognizing that she never meant to hurt him, and couldn’t help laughing. His lungs hurt, but he preferred the pain over crying. Propping himself up on his elbows, Eddie shook his head. “Hey, accidents happen,” he said with a wide grin. “But, uh, do you think you could teach me how to do that?”

Accidents happened, but they happened far too often when it came to Willow and her telekinesis. “But they shouldn’t,” she insisted, head shaking even as she skittered to put space between her and Eddie once again. “I don’t- I don’t control it.” The admission was paired with a blanket of shame and guilt falling over her features. Eddie had trusted her to give an answer when she offered help, and she was already failing the first question of that test. “I’m sorry- I can’t- I don’t know how to teach you. I don’t even know how to teach myself.” That was why he should stick around her brother more than he ever clung to her. “You should- you should go for now, I don’t want to hurt you if you stay longer.” How could she offer him a home, and then cast him out in the next breath? Was that not the cruelest thing she could have done? But if he left disappointed, at least he left whole and with his life still intact.

“Thank you, though.” He’d given her so much in just the span of a half an hour or so. “Really- thank you. I’m um- I’m glad the ghosts chose you to deliver the message, and brought you here.” Now the ghosts of her anxiety would just have to get him to leave. “And I do want you to text me.” In person wasn’t something she was willing to offer in the wake of having lost control, but she remembered how relieved he’d look immediately before everything had gone south, the look of a man crawling towards an oasis in the midst of a desert while he’d throw himself into his attempted hug. She wanted to be the person that quenched his loneliness. Willow just wasn’t sure how to do it while keeping him in one piece. 

#// I AM EMO ABOUT THESE TWO MEDIUMS #AND FRANKIE IS A GIFT #wickedswriting #chatzy #ch:eddie #spirited away

[nillegible]

can you post a snippet of your wip "Meng Yao still comes home with Huaisang" or share what its about?? :) hope you're doing well!!

Rosehoney, hello! I’m fine, I hope that you are as well! This reply might be a bit long because... you picked the tragic WIP that I haven’t posted, because the work it was based on, and the author I was writing for, are no longer on Ao3! I’ve been looking for them for the last few months, under the impression that I just had misremembered the title, but nope, I just found a reddit thread that mentioned they were gone.

I’m not sure if you managed to read pawpawpanda’s Hogwarts AU fic Wingardium Leviosa while it was up; it was really really good! The characters were well written, the world fleshed out, Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang were gremlins, Lan Qiren was lovely... but my favourite thing about it was Auror Nie and little Meng Yao, half-blood bastard Jin child who lived with the Nies as a live-in tutor for NHS, and joined Hogwarts a year early in order to be with him and help him study! The chapter where Meng Yao tries to blackmail Nie Mingjue for money, and fails, and then Nie Mingjue asks him why he wanted the money, and Meng Yao explains that his mother was ill? And Nie Mingjue loans him a thousand galleons in his gruff but kind way, and Meng Yao is so immensely grateful? That chapter sticks with me even now, I read it so many times. It was beautiful! So, since they’re missing... I would like to clarify that this is DEFINITELY based on their work, and I’m using that chapter as reference... I asked them if I could and they said yes? But those comments are all lost now, so I feel vaguely guilty about it. This isn’t the same universe, the Wen, for example, are entirely different, here... but Nie Mingjue saving Meng Shi like that did happen, and I’m not going to rewrite that part because you would all still be missing out their beautiful version of it. Here’s the snippet of the WIP!

Meng Yao still comes home with Huaisang, after 7th year, looking a little bit terrified and a little but defiant when he meets Nie Mingjue’s eyes over Huaisang’s shoulder. “We can’t let A-Yao go until the grades are announced, Da-ge!” his brother insists. Nie Mingjue points out that his contract with A-Yao had ended with their NEWTs, and if Huaisang wanted more tutoring he had to pay him himself. He still tells the kid to make himself at home, though.

*

“What have you been up to?” he asks, when Meng Yao comes in even after Nie Mingjue, who had been on a stake-out until 2AM.

Meng Yao blushes, eyes bright, “Nothing! I wasn’t doing anything, Da-ge,” he says. He looks a little disheveled, his clothes are wrinkled, and he’s smiling, like something good just happened. Nie Mingjue is instantly wary, because if Meng Yao had wanted to keep a secret, he would bloody well keep it a secret. This… this is extremely suspicious.

It happens again a week later.

*

It takes him until a week before the NEWT results are out to find proof (of a sort. It’s circumstantial, even his own father wouldn’t find it enough to actually arrest Meng Yao, but Nie Mingjue has seen enough to know, now) of what the boy is doing.

He apparates home in a boiling rage, walks into the house to see Huaisang, Meng Yao, and Father sharing a meal. Nie Mingjue deliberately sets his wand on the table and takes his hand off of Baxia’s hilt, before he says, “You. You will pack up your things and get out. Right now.” He looks surprised, confused. Blasted Slytherin liar who could act as easily as breathe.

“Brother, we’re having dinner!” says Huaisang.

“Can this not wait, Mingjue?” asks Father.

Meng Yao says nothing, just staring into his eyes. Nie Mingjue has to take a breath to keep from yelling. “Now,” he says.

Meng Yao stands, “It’s fine, Minister Nie, I’m mostly finished eating. A-Sang I’ll – ” Meng Yao goes to place a hand on Huaisang’s shoulder, and the water pitcher on the table explodes. Breathe. Just breathe. It’s a good thing Nie Mingjue set his wand down already, or that might have been Meng Yao’s head. Nie Mingjue tries to steady his breathing, to calm his mind, to clear the infernal rage that threatens to consume him. “Do not touch my brother,” he manages to say, stiffly. Meng Yao carefully retracts his hand.

“Okaay, then. I’ll. I’ll just go upstairs and get my things.” Nie Mingjue nods, a short jerk of his head.

When Meng Yao leaves the room he follows, ignoring Huaisang’s horrified, “What the hell, Da-ge?” He’s not letting the brat curse something on the way out. Would he have laid the curses already? Something to be activated if he leaves the home? Nie Mingjue will have to spend the night checking for curses, damn it.

It doesn’t take Meng Yao long to pack. Nie Mingjue wonders if he had already been readying himself to leave.

Once the room is bare, the contents of Meng Yao’s trunk shrunk and stuffed into his pocket, Meng Yao turns to him. “Auror Nie, this is yours.” He holds out a small qiankun pouch. Because of the charms, he has no idea what might be inside.

“One thousand galleons, with interest. Standard Gringott’s rates,” he says, bowing lightly as he holds it out in two hands.

“Where’d you get that kind of money?” asks Nie Mingjue, and watches as Meng Yao freezes. Can’t talk your way out of that, can you?

“Keep it. Just get out of my face.”

“I can’t keep it, I have to pay you back for–”

“I thought your memory was perfect,” he snaps. “I said you should pay me back when you made a decent salary. By decent, I meant honest work. Not whatever the hell you’ve been up to with the Wens.”

“Auror Nie–” The mild-mannered expression finally gives way to a more pleading one, and it’s amazing how good an actor Meng Yao can be if he puts his mind to it.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t. Just get out. If you try to contact Huaisang for any reason, I will find you, and I will break your spine.”

Meng Yao inhales sharply at the threat, casting his eyes down. “Alright then. I’ll go.”

Nie Mingjue follows him to the door, and stands in the doorway, watching the young man who had grown up in his house walk away without looking back. His shoulders are stiff, his head unbowed. Nie Mingjue waits until he sees him vanish with a crack at the apparition line, then steps back inside and shuts the door.

Right.

That was that.

After everything that Nie Mingjue had – no. It didn’t deserve thinking about.

Now he just has to go around looking for curse arrays in his house that Meng Yao could have left.

#asks! #mdzs #hogwarts au #nie mingjue #pawpawpanda #I'm so sorry I don't know what else to do... #If anyone knows them could you let them know about this fic? #And inform me if they want me to delete it?

[sunlightpike]

please han go off abt yasha and her wife i am ready to be emotionally devastated

Oh boy, oh boy, alright. Using the cut bc it got long, predictably. (Also very, very briefly I mention Yasha’s pit fight in here (the one where she threw it as therapy), so brief tw for mentions of being okay w/ dying.)

Here’s what Yasha said, right: “My name is Yasha Nydoorin, I am from the Southern Wastes of Xhorhas, and I don’t know who my parents are, so--” [Veth: ”but your wife”] “--yes, I was married to a woman named Zuala.”

Now real quick the staging of the interaction. The Mighty Nein are unsure how the memory loss going on on this island happens, why the people are forgetting. So, Caduceus decides to get the party to start a ritual of sorts. Every night, affirming who they are, reminding themselves of the ties they have to the world outside of this island. These are the things they don’t want to forget.

(Going further back for staging, you’ve got Yasha who has pretty recently come out of a long period of being mind controlled into hurting people (this includes hurting the Mighty Nein on multiple occasions and almost killing some of them) by Obann. Obann, who has ties to who she was directly after losing Zuala, who has forced her back into being that person. And now she’s been freed from it, but I don’t think she’s fully processed it-- like, sure, she’s talked about it a little and also thrown herself into a fight for therapy, but... takes more than that to fully process.)

What strikes me about it is a) Yasha does not hesitate to say she’s Yasha Nydoorin-- I don’t think we have explicit proof that her last name is the same as Zuala’s, but it makes sense that it might be tied to her, right? Yasha didn’t know her parents and the tribe tended to use titles like Orphanmaker and the Skyspear, so it’s possible that that was Zuala’s last name or a name they chose together. (And what makes me believe more that it might be tied to Zuala is that Yasha has never said her last name to the party when introducing herself, or to anyone for that matter. She’s been rather reserved about speaking about Zuala, I don’t think she’d even said Zuala’s name to the full party before though I might be wrong. It’s not that she’s explicitly hiding it, just that it’s painful for her to talk about.)

So perhaps saying that she is Yasha Nydoorin was her way of including the fact that she was married to Zuala in her little affirmation. At the very least, it’s significant that she used her full name; it means she wants that to be something she holds onto. If they do start forgetting, if those affirmations are all they have, then she wants to remember that part of her name. That’s significant. It’s a part of her. (Fjord, for example, doesn’t include his last name, because that’s not something that is significant to him.)

Also, b) she, in the same episode, suggested that maybe the people on the island wanted to forget, which dang heckin hurts when you consider what she’s coming out of; the mind control and the inability to do anything as she hurt her friends. And the pain she’s been through; losing Zuala, losing Molly. You can’t help but think that perhaps sometimes that has been a thought that crossed her mind; wouldn’t it be easier if I just... forgot? I wouldn’t have this pain. But at the same time, she’s still collecting flowers on this island and like... she’s still carrying Zuala with her (and Molly, too). So like, ow oof my heart. 

And then c) it is only with prompting from Veth that she mentions Zuala. She doesn’t mention Molly. Now, considering all I just said; maybe her last name is a tie to Zuala, enough of a reminder. Maybe her book is, maybe she trusts that to keep the memory of both of them alive. Maybe tM9 are enough of a reminder of Molly. Maybe. Maybe. But maybe she’s also keeping that vague, not explicitly saying it on purpose. If it is a tie, it’s enough of one that if she remembers she Knows and if she doesn’t, well... she doesn’t want to forget, not explicitly, she cares about Molly and Zuala so much and they’re a part of her. But, I wonder if there’s a part of her that wonders what it would be like to forget. The same part of her, perhaps, that knew she wouldn’t die in that fight in the pit but still pushed it, still might not have minded. It’s her towing that line between forgetting and remembering, leaving it up to the world and fate. 

Basically putting Yasha into a situation where she might forget everything from her past, including Zuala and Molly who she’s lost and carried with her, but also including the terrible things she’s done, is so interesting and so gutwrenching for thinking about how she is dealing with it and how she approaches the situation.

(Also, on a meta level, Yasha is perhaps one of the most likely to forget-- if it is a wisdom save, she is historically Very Bad At Those. She’s not the hottest at int saves either. I don’t know if tM9 will be there long enough to suffer memory loss effects but i am still deeply afraid.)

#yasha nydoorin #critical role #critical role spoilers #c2e101 #yasha #zuala #m9 #meta #mine #blobshook x1000000 basically #god i love yasha #in case it wasn't clear lol #greyhawkrogue #ask

[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

👀😤😏 @stetervault​

The moment Stiles stood up and the bandages fell off him, he realized something was wrong.

He was off balance, dramatically so, movements weighted too far forward. He stumbled, crashing into Melissa. His mind was an angry nest of confusion and fear, unaware of why he felt so unbalanced, unsure if the nogitsune was actually gone, and unsettled at the idea that his pack hadn’t known whether he was him or not. 

Melissa caught him around the waist, steadying him in time to hear the gasps behind him. He twisted around to see what was going on, only to find everyone staring at his back, mouths open. He craned his neck around, looking at his back with an unimpeded view. 

Unimpeded. 

No feathers tickling his nose. No wing joint blocking his sightline. 

Nothing. 

He looked up at the others, convinced that this must be another trick of the nogitsune. Another hallucination to play with him, to bring chaos to his mind. 

One by one, they stared back at him, pity in every face. Exactly as Stiles imagined his worst nightmare would go. The nogitsune took its cues from Stiles’ own mind, maybe this was all made up and taken from himself-

His eyes reached Peter. His face was unusually grim. He looked back at Stiles, no sign of a cold smirk or cutting grin anywhere. He simply looked at Stiles, serious, a hint of grief in the set of his mouth. 

It was real. 

Stiles screamed. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

Three years later, he still thought it would have been easier to handle if the nogitsune had left scars. Something, anything as proof that his wings had once existed. Had once surrounded him, keeping him warm and lifting him from the earth, wings that looked exactly like his mother’s.

He only had pictures of either now. 

But no. The skin of his back was smooth and unmarked. He’d taken to telling the people he slept with that it was a birth deformity. The lie was never discovered- after all, they would have had to stay for at least a second night to find out, and Stiles would never allow that. 

Most of the time he wasn’t even around by the next morning, already on his way to the next town with the next job. 

Besides, sometimes he almost believed the lie himself. He was so far divorced from his former life that it felt like someone else’s memories. 

He’d found benefits to being wingless. The effort he had to make to re-learn balance had carried him into the kind of grace and stealth that could be very lucrative, when used correctly. Most attacks come from the sky, dropping in suddenly from any direction; and absolutely no one would dare to escape on the ground, where one might be so easily caught. 

Unless one was Stiles. 

So he took jobs, and did them under the noses of those who looked skyward, convinced that the only worthy threat could come from there. 

The jobs were dubiously legal at best, but that didn’t matter. Not when any possible future law enforcement career had been stripped from him the moment he lost his wings. Instead, he used his comprehensive knowledge of the law to break it more effectively. 

Not at the moment, though. 

At the moment, he was having a perfectly legal cup of coffee, in a perfectly respectable Starbucks, so Seattle-generic that he wondered if his client would be able to pick it out from the other three Starbucks on the street. 

He sipped the cold brew, back to the wall, no one paying enough attention to him to notice the missing wings. It was relaxing, not being noticed. Not being stared at. He slouched back further onto the wall. 

He was mid-sip when the door opened again. His eyes flicked over, looking for the identifier his client had said he’d be wearing. 

A red and white striped pocket square in a vest. 

He also wore sunglasses and a well-tailored jacket, hair styled fairly long. 

Definitely longer than the last time he’d seen him. 

“God fucking damn it, Peter,” Stiles sighed. 

Peter took a seat across from him, taking off his sunglasses and folding his wings behind him. 

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” he chided, reaching out to snag the cold brew from Stiles’ hands, until Stiles stabbed him with the coffee stirrer. 

“What do you fucking want?” Stiles said aggressively, no longer comforted by the wall at his back, but trapped by it. 

Peter frowned at him as he picked splinters out of his hand. 

“I want to hire you. Or did you not actually read the last email I sent?” He raised a judgemental eyebrow. 

Stiles stared at him flatly. 

“I don’t believe that you've ever had a single motivation for doing something in your life. Your plans have so many layers that they’re hidden in plain sight by pretending to be lasanga. What. Do. You. Want.”

Peter smiled brightly. 

“You caught me. Dual motivation. I wanted to steal the Deschamp Bestiary, and your coffee.” He reached out again, faster this time, and managed to snatch it, taking a long sip. 

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“In all seriousness,” Peter continued, “I want that bestiary, not only because it’s a one of a kind book worth millions, but also because it’s currently in the hands of a dangerous family. A dangerous family absolutely full of bastards.”

Stiles looked up at him. 

“And you need me, specifically, to help you do that,” he said, obvious skepticism in his tone. 

“I did mention that they were bastards, right?” Peter said lightly, taking another sip. “Awful bastards. With bastard tight air security. No one drops into their compound without being killed.” 

Stiles sighed, clearly able to see where this was going. 

“I need someone competent in ground infiltration. And you, my dear, are the most competent on the market right now.” The look he gave Stiles was heavy lidded, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation.

Stiles wasn’t sure it was entirely for the upcoming job. 

He chewed on his lip, internally debating. 

As a general rule, Stiles took any job that would fuck over a hunter. He had enough grudges left over from high school to make it worth it. He also generally took any job with a high enough payout. 

However, he didn’t take jobs from people he’d helped murder once. In general. 

“What are you even doing in Seattle?” Stiles asked, delaying his decision. 

“I live here,” Peter answered, swirling the coffee a little, trying to get cream up from the bottom. 

“You left Beacon Hills?” Stiles said, actually surprised. 

“After you left, I hardly had anything keeping me there,” Peter sniffed delicately. “You were the only worthwhile member of that pack. Besides, McCall started getting a little too friendly with Eichen House... I could only assume that would not end well for me.”

Stiles snorted, unsurprised that Scott would work with Eichen House to get Peter put away. 

“I have a pack here now-” Peter continued. 

“Wait,” Stiles interrupted. “You have a pack or you’re part of a pack?”

Peter briefly flashed red eyes in response. Stiles groaned. 

“Who did you kill?” he demanded. He had a vague idea of Peter killing Scott on his way out of town, and if that was what had happened, he was absolutely not taking the job. He didn’t want to touch Beacon Hills nonsense with a ten foot pole. 

Peter looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

“You don’t think I’m worthy of True Alpha power, Stiles?” he said, beseeching. 

Stiles brandished the coffee stirrer again, face deadly serious. Peter laughed. 

“Deucalion,” he finally answered, adjusting his wings until they hung more loosely over the back of his chair.

Stiles relaxed. Peter smiled in amusement. 

“I’ve had nothing to do with Beacon Hills for almost as long as you have,” he said, voice quieter, more sincere. “I really, truly contacted you because you’re the best person for the plan, and my plans are always the best. The fact that I get to see you again is just a bonus.” 

Stiles sat back, face impassive as he searched Peter’s. 

Peter hadn’t once brought up Stiles’ non-existent wings, despite that being the reason Stiles was available for the job at all. He didn’t glance over Stiles’ shoulder, looking for the thing that wasn’t there. He looked Stiles in the face, as if that was the only place he wanted to look. 

Damn it. 

“Alright. I’ll do it.” 

#it was too good to leave alone lmao #also I don't think I've ever fully written a heist?? #I kinda want to?? #I might add to this 👀 #angst #wingfic #featheruary #pre-steter #steter #1.5k words #again #stetervault #tumblr fic and kinda fic #this blog needs a tag for my bullshit

[pauldron-pieces]

Rumon 'Crushjaw' Thaerskaine's Backstory: Rearmed

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: N/A, Crushjaw-centric

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Crushjaw. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets. Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: Black Hill: Low Force

[Crushjaw is a level zero barbarian, and his appearance can be found here.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains multiple triggering scenes including semi-graphic depictions of gore and mentions of bile/vomit. Reader discretion is advised. Stay safe!]

He would have loved to claim he had been goaded into it. Would have loved to say that it wasn't his fault or explain that it hadn't happened like he remembered. Except Rumon knew all too well that responsibility didn't work like that. His memory may be faulty, but the proof was in Krae's testimony.

Himself and his childhood friend Krae had both been interested in the same individual from a neighboring clan, the two of them butting heads over the object of their affections more than once. So of course when Krae came to him with news of an enormous ogre that had set up its stomping grounds near one of their trade routes, Rumon fairly leaped at the opportunity to fight the beast and claim victory over it. After all, what better way to prove his worth and earn a name from the clan leader than with an act of heroism?

Krae naturally came along, saying that he feared the ogre may be too tall an order for even Rumon to handle. This just made Rumon all the more determined to manage the creature single handedly.

They set up camp near where Krae claimed to have spotted the beast, the two goliaths joking and swapping drinks from a canteen of strong spirits. Truly, until both of them had set their sights on the same person, they had been brothers in all but blood. Rumon still regarded Krae as such, trusting to a fault, and thusly he missed the shifty glances the older goliath kept aiming at the treeline while the sun set.

"Come, Rumon! The moon is high. With its light, surely we shall find the ogre." Krae had cajoled after Rumon was fairly drunk, "unless, of course, you are afraid of a night hunt?"

"I fear nothing!" Rumon had boasted, "the gods are with me this night. You shall witness my triumph, Krae!"

Bold words. His grandmatron had always said that pride went before a fall.

Rumon recalled very little of the hunt after that, his memory muddied with drink. Despite Krae's insistence that the moonlight was sufficient, Rumon's recollections were oddly dim. He vaguely remembered stumbling around beneath the thick spruce canopy, his warhammer clumsy in his hands.

He remembered swinging with all his might and striking something that gave under the assault, the liquor Krae had plied him with steeling his ringing blows to something that rivaled even Varandur's mountain shapers.

He remembered when the weight of his weapon suddenly vanished, and there was a rancid gust of seethingly-hot air that blew his hair to the side. The roar was strange to his ear, far-off and faded. Emptiness rang too loud for him to hear as he wondered where his weapon had gone.

Rumon remembered realizing that he was flat on his stomach on the ground.

Where the memory became razor-sharp once more was when he tried to push himself up onto his elbows, and found his body woefully unbalanced. The goliath searched for the source of the problem and quickly located it, the sight of what was left of his mangled right arm more than enough to jerk him back to stark sobriety.

It had been severed at the elbow, though the term was a bit too kind for the injury. The appendage looked more as though it had been crushed with something that might have had an edge at one point.

Rumon had raised his eyes, mind grinding to a halt when he spotted his warhammer several yards away with his right hand still gripping the haft. Past that, along a trail marked by shattered tree trunks, slumped an enormous ogre clutching a slab of a sword. It seemed closer to a chunk of masonry than a true weapon, and Rumon's stomach had churned as he realized what had happened.

Mercifully, the agony had struck him and he promptly vomited before losing consciousness.

×+×

Gods only knew how long he had slept after that. It was a miracle he had even made it back to their healer; apparently Krae had all but carried him home. The embarrassment from that instance alone would have been enough to kill Rumon, never mind the fact that his dominant arm was now nothing but a bandaged stump.

The grandmatron would have none of it though, her craggy face somehow even more stern when Rumon managed to finally rouse himself.

"You have been named Crushjaw, little pebble. A worthy title." Her tone was icy. "I have gone through much trouble to save you. I am indebted to our chieftain."

Crushjaw. Rumon's face fairly burned with shame. "The ogre-?"

"Krae slew the beast. He brought one of its tusks back as proof. The chieftain was quite flattered by his offering, praising Krae for his accomplishment and naming him Tuskclaimer. As for his name for you..." The matron bowed her head, her expression one of grief.

"Grandma…"

"Don't you grandma me, little pebble!" The elderly goliath erupted, glaring fiercely at Rumon. Her eyes filled with tears as she went on, "you are anathema now, dear Rumon. Once you are able to walk, the clan leader has declared that you are to leave. I am no longer your grandmother. This place is no longer your home."

"'Leave'?" Rumon repeated stupidly. It felt as though everything was crashing down around him, his mind racing to comprehend. Their clan hadn't had an expulsion in his entire lifetime, wariness and confidence found too equally amongst their ranks. Compounding his confusion was the claim that Krae had killed the ogre. Rumon had been certain... "I understand." He said finally. "I am unworthy of your kindness. Thank you."

He couldn't comprehend why his grandmother wept harder at his acceptance. This was the way it had always been.

×+×

Crushjaw.

It certainly felt as though he was being crushed to death. Loneliness was a miserable traveling companion.

Rumon, very nearly unable to fend for himself, resorted to setting small game snares in the uncharted wilds. It was a child's way of hunting, but he was too hungry to be bothered by the prick to his already-bruised pride.

The few people he did encounter seemed overly wary of him. After all, a one-armed, exiled goliath would be the type to resort to petty theft.

But he wasn't a threat. He had never been a threat before, aside from just being large. Rumon couldn't understand the sudden shift in demeanor; he couldn't possibly fathom the air of desperation that his injury gave off.

It began to get easier when the weather cooled, the bulk of the thick cloak from his grandmother concealing his missing arm. The wound had not healed prettily, but Rumon knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. He hadn't died. That was all he could hope for.

He wandered alone for most of the cold times, his only companions the booming pines that fractured from the weight of the ice and snow. His thoughts had a habit of straying to Krae, and he wondered what had truly transpired that evening more than he would care to admit. Had he imagined killing the ogre? Was his mind that addled by the strength of the drink they had shared?

Surely Krae wouldn't have lied. Nothing good ever came of lying or taking the credit for someone else's accomplishments. Rumon eventually settled on the assumption that his memory must have been faulty.

After that, the whole world seemed a gray and unforgiving place, and the goliath could feel himself fading into something of the same type. Something ragged and harsh, no longer a proud warrior but a lamed animal with a crushed jaw.

That is, until the day he encountered an old elf hanging by the leg from his horse's saddle.

"You there!" The elven man shouted once he seemed to notice the large individual sauntering up through the trunks of barren maples. "Don't suppose you'd be able to lend me a hand?"

Rumon, for whatever reason, found himself throwing his mantle back over his shoulder to reveal the stump of his arm. "Good thing you only need one hand, sirrah. It's all I have to offer." He remarked.

The elf nearly died of laughter, already beet-red in the face from being stuck hanging upside down for so long. To Rumon's shock however, when he circled around the horse to help the elf dislodge himself, he realized that the leg that wasn't caught in the stirrups was severed at the knee. The fellow's pant leg was neatly pinned at the joint, padding sewn into the area as if to mimic a kneecap.

Before Rumon could say anything though, the wiry elf explained, "I lost my leg a few miles back, and this damned animal dragged me along until she got bored. Don't suppose you can accompany me a little ways until I relocate it? Thing is worth its weight in gold."

The goliath easily hefted the older fellow into the saddle before his words caught up with him. "You...lost your leg?" Rumon blinked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I was unaware that elves could regrow limbs."

The elf looked at him a little sideways, muttering something about still waters running deep before he just shook his head and laughed, "no son, it's a genuine Chuck original. A fake leg."

A fake leg. Rumon seized the horse's bridle, desperation giving his voice a new level of gravel as he begged for more information. The elf shrewdly bargained with him: in exchange for help in reclaiming his prosthetic, he would gladly share what information he had.

"My name is Shawell." The elf introduced himself. "And you are…?"

Rumon hesitated for a moment. "Crushjaw." If people were to know his name, they would serve as a reminder of his foolhardy pride. A constant warning to heed in the future.

"Pleasure to meet you, Crush." Shawell tugged on the reins, turning his mare back in the direction he had come from. "We'd better hurry. We'll lose the daylight."

Crush. Rumon cracked his first smile in months, positioning himself on the elf's left side to steady him in the saddle.

#rumon 'crushjaw' thaerskaine #crushjaw #dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #I play one type of character #the friend who can help #goliath character #dnd goliath #dnd character #he's going to love his friends A Lot #canon-typical violence #I can't wait for this #dnd barbarian #barbarian backstory

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 9 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

9. Shattered Impressions

"I have you now, Ghost Child."

Panic began to set in as Danny tried to rationalize the scene in front of him. A strange gun -which looked incredibly dangerous - was no more than a couple of inches away from his head. It seemed to be connected to the arm of what was best described as a very large metallic man, a robot maybe, which had a flaming green mohawk. If the situation did not look so bad, he probably would have made some sort of comment about its choice of 'hair'.

"You're puny," it told him after it used the muzzle of the gun to lift his chin, forcing him to look at its face. Danny was more than a little surprised to find its voice sounded relatively normal. There was no metallic interference. "It's hard to imagine you have the sort of power my employer thinks you do."

As he continued to nervously look the being in the eyes, he prayed for a distraction, anything that would take its attention away just long enough for him to escape from the gun's cool metal. With each passing moment, he was becoming more and more aware of how close it was to his neck. If the robot decided it was going to fire, there would be no escape.

"Interesting…" The unfamiliar voice of his captor caught his attention. Instead of focusing on him, it was now absorbed with something on its arm. A computer? No, that wouldn't make any sense. Why would a robot need a computer? Shouldn't it be able to do all its thinking, or whatever, in its head?

As if it knew he was staring, the robot turned away from its arm and gave him an evil grin. "My scanners indicate you certainly have the potential. Although my employer wants you alive, there's nothing in my contract that says I can't test your worth first." It stepped back as the gun on its arm began to whine as it raised the weapon to the level of his head. "Let the games begin!"

Until that moment in time, Danny never believed the stories of how time seemed to slow in life threatening situations. Knowing what was going to happen yet unable to turn away, he watched as a light from inside the barrel appeared. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, alerting him to the danger and yet blocking out any other noise.

The force of an impact and a face full of dirt brought him back to the fast-paced world as a blast sounded from somewhere of to the side. Confused and not entirely sure if he was still alive, he glanced around and immediately caught the glare of an incredibly angry goth girl. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded as she pulled him off the ground. "If you didn't notice, that thing was aiming at your head!"

Still puzzled as to how he had fallen in the first place combined with resurfacing memories of the danger, he couldn't give her an answer as she began to lead him, as fast as possible, away from the danger. Although he was vaguely aware of Tucker was running beside them and the robot-thing was somehow chasing them from the air, nothing else was registering; even the explosions occurring at a faster and faster rate behind them, causing them to stumble and trip as they ran.

…

He wasn't sure how long they had been running, nor did he know exactly where they were. Looking around, he found himself in a small, dirty, and poorly lit alleyway which suggested to him that they were now in a rougher part of town. He had heard stories about places like this, Winston loved to scare him with those stories when he was younger, and hoped that this particular one would receive no other visitors. Though it was true he would rather deal with an actual person than the flying monstrosity they had hopefully lost, neither were welcome thoughts.

He glanced at his friends who were using the moment to catch their breaths. Tucker was sprawled out on the ground, seemingly too tired to do much else. Sam on the other hand, was still standing. It was clear she was just as tired as Tucker, but her alert posture told him she was not about to let her guard down. Danny couldn't blame her. Whatever had been chasing them had the ability to kill.

Why had it come after them –him- in the first place? Didn't the robot-thingy call him a ghost? Why? Weren't ghosts the spirits of those who had passed from life and had come back for one reason or another? He wasn't dead. The dried blood on his face from his cut was his proof. Someone who was dead couldn't bleed, right? Yet, the thing, the actual ghost, which had cornered him in the cemetery, said something similar. Hadn't it said he did not belong in 'this world' and he felt the call of the 'other side'?

He shook his head as he tried to push his thoughts away. With the situation at hand, there were more important concerns that required his attention.

"Hey, are you alright?" Tucker asked, causing Danny to jump.

"Huh? Yeah…" Danny rubbed his neck in embarrassment as he glanced at his friends. "Sorry, I was just thinking… Are you guys okay?" There was no immediate answer, which worried him. There was something off in the expressions of his two friends. It almost seemed like they weren't sure who he was. "Guys… you're starting to freak me out. What's wrong? Did I do something?"

"Danny… we're your friends, right?" There was a hesitance in Tucker's voice as he spoke. If Danny didn't know any better, it almost seemed as if the other boy was carefully choosing his words.

He had a feeling he was not going to like where the conversation was heading when he cautiously replied. "Yeah… But what's that got to do with anything?"

"Are you stupid or something?" Sam yelled, causing him to flinch. Now that her anger was completely directed at him, he understood why Tucker was afraid of her. "Danny, if we really are your friends then we have a right to know what's going on, especially if we might end up in danger. Now spill it! What was that thing? What does it want with you? What are you?"

His cautious confusion began to change into anger as he returned her glare. "Is that's what's wrong? Here I thought someone might have been hurt. Look, like I told you the last time, I have no idea what's going on! I've never even seen that thing before tonight, so how was I to know it had a vendetta against me?"

His expression softened after he finished. His outburst was enough to stem his anger, allowing him to relax just enough to plop down on the ground. He allowed himself to rest his arms on his knees before he spoke again. "I don't know how else to explain this to you… All of this craziness started a few weeks ago. Now that I think about it... Everything seemed to start right around the time I met you two…:"

"So you're saying this is our fault?"

Catching the warning tone in her voice, Danny held up his hands, hoping the gesture would prevent her from attacking him. "What? No! I'm not saying that at all! It's just it seemed to be the starting point of everything. Until then, I was perfectly normal."

"Normal? We were just chased and attacked by a flying metal robot! How is that normal?" As she spoke, Sam kept moving closer to where Danny was seated, and although he tried to scoot away from her, she reached down and grabbed him by the shirt. Knowing it was not a good idea to try and fight her, he allowed her to pull him up without a struggle. Her violet eyes bore into his icy blue ones as she continued to speak, almost daring him to do say something that would put her even further over the edge. "I don't know what's going on in your little world, Danny, but it's certainly anything but normal. Here we don't periodically fall through solid objects. Here we don't get chased by flying robots! Here people get exhausted when they are forced to run for their lives for fifteen minutes. Here we don't have people whose blood is two entirely different colors. Here…"

Danny pulled away as he cut her off. "Whoa, back up a minute. Different color blood? Where did that come from?"

"You're serious?" An incredulous expression crossed Sam's face.

"Yes, I'm serious."

"Sam, I'll take care of it," Tucker's voice was soft as he placed a hand cautiously on her shoulder. Although it was clear she was not done with her rant, Sam relented. Giving himself a moment to compose himself, Tucker sighed and adjusted his beret before he looked back over at Danny.

"Sam and I noticed it after we ran out of the park after the initial attack," Tucker told him as he warily locked eyes with him. "You had a cut above your eye, and at first I thought grass had gotten stuck to your face due to the blood and because you fell, but I realized that just didn't seem right. The green stuff was an unnatural color and seemed to be dripping down along with the regular blood. I'm surprised you didn't notice it."

Feeling uneasy, Danny reached up to touch the, thankfully, closed wound. He had thought those types of head injuries were supposed to bleed a lot… Maybe he hadn't been injured as badly as he initially thought. But, he still needed to test what his friends had said. Taking care to not completely reopen the cut, he carefully rubbed the fresh scab until he felt a trickle start to run down his face.

When he pulled his hand away, he was mortified by what it revealed. Blood is supposed to be a red so vivid that few natural colors can match it. There should not be any other color seen until it starts to dry, especially not a toxic, glowing green.

What was this stuff? It seemed to have the same consistency as his natural blood, but what would make it that color? Nothing came to mind as he watched the multi-colored liquid begin to mix into an ugly brown as it began to dry. Concerned, he used the back of his hand to wipe the injury above his eye, and once again, he pulled it back to find the same odd mix of colors.

He tried to say something as he frantically tried to get the foreign substance off his hand, but nothing intelligent came. The green stuff hadn't been there the previous week; he had fallen and scraped his knee pretty badly. He would have noticed a weird green tinge… so what changed? What was happening to him?

"So… I take this as an 'I didn't know'," Tucker stated as he watched Danny fall back to the ground as he continued to stare at his hand.

"I-I don't understand…" Danny's voice was nothing but a horrified whisper. "What am I turning into…?"

xxxxxx

"Sam, I don't think you can argue with that…" Tucker told her as the two of them watched their friend begin to shake as he wrapped his arms around himself, perhaps to give himself some sort of comfort. "You can't fake that kind of fear…"

"Oh, and you're suddenly the expert on that?" Sam snapped at him as she continued to watch the boy on the ground. Nothing about this made any sense, and it hadn't even since she had seen him get his leg stuck in the floor of his house. Whatever was happening to the boy was not possible, and the possibilities of the impossible were scaring her. Usually she was fine with the dark and morbid fantasies that frequented her mind, but they were far less appealing when they applied to the possible monster she had thought was her friend.

Momentary confusion caused her to glance over at Tucker as an unusual thought came to the forefront of her mind. "You know, you seem surprisingly okay with this," she told him carefully while watching his expression. "I would have thought you would have run screaming and not looked back a while ago…"

"Really? And here I would think that you'd be handling this sort of weirdness better than me. I mean, it is sort of your thing," he replied with a smirk. Although Sam was somewhat put off by it, she had to agree with him. Tucker's expression once again became serious as he looked back at Danny who had not moved. "I don't know what's going on… and you have no idea how badly that metal thing scared me earlier, but I don't think how I feel can even compare to how Danny does. And, even though I might regret this, I'm going to stick with him."

"But…"

"Sam, he's your friend too," Tucker interrupted as an uncharacteristic note of anger colored his voice. "I think your problem is you don't want to admit you're also scared."

She was going to argue back when she realized he was absolutely right. She was afraid, and if there was one think she couldn't stand above all else was her being afraid. Danny had never hurt her, and his expression had clearly told her every time he had denied having any information about the strange happening he was not lying. She had just wanted to pin the blame on him since there was no other outlet.

Not wanting to admit she was at fault, she slowly moved towards Danny and cautiously placed her hand on his shoulder. He jumped as he looked up at her. His eyes, that strange and unique crystal blue, briefly showed her the chaos and terror lurking beneath the surface before he seemed to regain himself. "Come on," she told him softly as she offered to help him up. "We need to head back to my house… My parents might have noticed we're gone." Danny did little more than nod as he accepted her hand.

"Do you really think it's safe? What if that thing is still around and follows us back?" Tucker asked her as he pulled out his PDA. She was actually surprised it had taken him so long to do so; usually he couldn't last a minute without it.

She gave him a troubled look. "Do you have any better ideas? We can't stay out here."

"Point taken… Well… according to my PDA, we've got a while to go before we can get back. All that running we did really got us off track…"

"Alright, we better hurry then. The faster we get back, the better."

"As long as we don't run, that's all fine and dandy." Sam sent a glare at Tucker, which he countered with mock version of his own. "What? We ran all the way here from the park, and unless we end up in mortal danger on the way back, there's no way I'm running again."

"Big baby."

"Well, I'm sorry we can't all be as athletic as you."

"You could be if you ate something else other than meat all the time."

"Hey! I take offense to that!"

Sam smiled as the confirmation she won this round appeared in Tucker's expression. She was about to say something else when Danny's soft voice interrupted. "Guys, is this really the best time for this…?" Surprised, she glanced over to see if he was okay. Although it was very clear he hadn't completely recovered from his scare, traces of humor could be seen in his eyes. That was a good sign. Well, at least she hoped it was.

xxxxxx

Although he was still more than a little freaked out, Danny was starting to feel a little better. Too much had happened in one day for him to worry about it, so he decided it would be better to push his concerns aside until the next morning. Maybe everything would make more sense, or maybe he and his friends would awaken to realize they had the craziest dream. He could certainly live with that.

He looked up as the three of them walked. The night was oddly clear making it perfect for stargazing. If it was any other night, he would gladly welcome it, but now the clear skies made him feel unusually vulnerable. Although they were making good time, they were still too far away from Sam's home than he liked. What he wouldn't give to be safe behind some sort of walls.

A sudden chill started to creep through his body, causing him to shiver, and his breath became momentarily visible before it disappeared in faint wisps. "Guys…" he said cautiously, breaking the temporary silence between them, as the chill swept through him again.

"Not this again! Didn't this happen right before…." Tucker's words were cut short as Sam placed her hand over his mouth. He quickly swatted it away and glared at her. "What was that for?"

In response, she returned his glare with one of her own, which caused him to shrink back. "Don't say it! You don't want to jinx us! Come on, let's pick up the pace! Maybe we can get back before…"

"Try all you want. You won't be able to make it back… alive."

Danny froze as he tried to pinpoint the origin of the voice. This was just too coincidental. Was that cold feeling some sort of warning?

"So…" Tucker whispered as he looked up as he finally spotted the robot, who was currently watching them from several feet above. "If we make a break for it, how far away will we get before it catches us?"

"Do you really think that you can continue to run from me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter? Please, the three of you aren't even a challenge," it told them as it descended. "Although I could easily spend all night chasing after you, I'm on a schedule." It glanced over at Sam and Tucker and grinned as it produced a long glowing blade from its arm, "And you two are of no use to me."

He watched as the robot moved towards his friends in a manner that reminded him of a hunter stalking its prey. If they decided to run, he knew they were not going to be able to get away this time. This was all his fault! That thing, Skulker, was after him!

Danny had begun moving even before he realized it. "You leave them alone!" he thundered as he crashed into the robot. Stumbling backwards after the initial impact, he tried to refocus as the pain swam through his body. Okay, so running into a solid hunk of metal was not his smartest move, but at least it got the thing to focus back on him. "Sam, Tucker, run! Get away from here while you can!"

"How touching." Skulker's tone and expression hinted it was starting to become annoyed with the situation. Danny barely had time to register its movement before it attacked him. The punch to the gut immediately filled his mouth with the taste of blood which was intensified with the backhand which sent him reeling to the ground.

"To bad you're in no shape to help them." Even though his head was swimming, Danny managed to pick his head up just enough to see his tormentor standing over him. Its twisted smile was the only thing he could identify as his vision started to dim. "Maybe if you were stronger this would be a different story, but you'll never get that chance." With a laugh, it turned and started back towards his friends.

Why? Why did it have to end like this? There was nothing he could do anymore. He could hear his friends frantically calling his name. Why did they stay? Why didn't they run like he told them too?

He could feel the cold tears running down his face as he fought to stay conscious while his friends screamed for help. Dammit! Why was he so useless? He couldn't let them die!

A new sense of resolve flooded through him as he tried to push himself upright. His vision was still hazy, but he could just make out the shapes of his friends and the monster pursuing them. One of them was on the ground while the other was frantically trying to help. Skulker was not going to let them escape. Its hulking shape was standing over them with its blade raised.

"St-stop!" Danny stammered in a desperate plea. He had to get over there! He had to help them! "STOP IT!" As he yelled, an icy pain, completely different from his previous aches, and a thousand times worse coursed through his body. Yet, unlike the previous pain, this one seemed to make him more alert, and he managed to pull himself off the ground.

He could tell that his friends and Skulker were surprised by his sudden movements, but any further movements he saw were lost as another wave of pain over took him. It was almost as if it was consuming him – wrapping him in icy tendrils electrifying his body. With each icy wave, he could feel the life being leeched out of him replacing it with some sort of unknown power.

From somewhere deep in his mind, he understood that he could use this power, whatever it was, to help his friends. He would worry about the price he was paying for it later; now, he was going to give it everything to save them.

He yelled something at the metal being… what, he wasn't sure. Although he wasn't exactly sure how it reacted, he knew he had gotten its attention. In that stunned moment, he let the power direct his movements as if it was his marionette and charged the creature. Instructions seemed to be flowing into him as he dodged and deflected the blows coming from the metal monstrosity.

He had to get in close; that was the only way to end the fight. Skulker's movements were becoming harder to dodge as the seconds ticked by. He couldn't tell if this was because Skulker was starting to clue into his movements or if it was because the power had been circulating through him was starting to fade from his body.

It was then that he saw it, an opening. Skulker had swung at him just a little too hard, causing its recovery to be a just a little longer. In that brief moment, he placed both of his hands on the creature's metal chest and concentrated. The power that had been swirling beneath the surface of his skin, giving him strength, flowed into his hands and concentrated itself. When the intensity of it threatened to harm him, he pushed it out of him with as much force as he could muster. The result was an intense flash of green light that knocked both him and his opponent back.

Regaining himself, he just managed to catch the sight of Skulker grasping at the hole in its chest as he turned and ran towards his terrified friends. Knowing that he hadn't done enough to put Skulker down for the count, he grabbed them and tried to lead them away. A strange feeling, different from the others that had plagued his body in the last couple hours, flooded his body. The next thing he knew, the three of them were standing in the road in front of Sam's house.

He had no idea how he had managed to get them back so quickly. As he let his friends go, his world began to spin. Pain was gnawing at his body, pulling him into darkness. The last thing he thought before his face met the pavement was to wonder if this was what dying felt like.

#Eidolon #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp #dp au #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #skulker #vlad plasmius #fantasy #supernatural #alternate universe #paranormal

[lo-55]

Lost Things Ch. 5 (Epilogue)

The Reuinion 

 Epilogue

Someone had told him once, years ago, that the shivers that ran up his spine when nothing was around to cause it meant that someone was walking across his grave. It was a weird saying attached to a funny feeling that gave it a vague sense of foreboding.

Now, standing in front of his own grave, Ace was a little disappointed that he didn't’t feel any shivering at all. Just a bit of melancholy. On the cross was his favorite orange hat, a gift from Luffy all those years ago, his belt and dagger, and a necklace that he had been sure Akainu’s fist had broken two and a half years ago.

“I gathered the beads,” Marco said, as if reading Ace’s mind. He was good at that. “Haruta tried to help me string them back together, but I didn’t let her. I felt like- like I had to do it. On my own.”

Without looking, Ace grabbed his hand.

“Thank you,” he said. He looked at tomb, where they had erected a grave with his name on it. It was weird, he felt like it should have been more horrifying, to see where he had supposedly been laid to rest. Instead he just felt bitter that his family had had to erect it in the first place.

He and Marco still hadn’t been to see the others yet. Marco had explained, after his memories returned, that he was now leading the Whitebeard Pirates. After his crash into the icy islands and the ensuing months they had to spend together (which, Ace did not mind at all ) Marco had wanted to give Ace a chance to ease back into the swing of piracy before throwing him to the metaphorical sharks.

He was also probably well aware of the fact that the instant they had settled Ace was going to want to hunt down Teach, as well as that had gone before.

All of these thoughts were really just Ace procrastinating looking slightly to the right. Wind caught the massive white coat and pulled it, reminding the young man of the fact that he couldn’t put this off forever.

Ace breathed in the tepid air, trying to acquire some modicum of calm.

He lifted his eyes, slowly, to the monument built for his father. His real father. The one that loved him regardless of his origins, taken him in and offered to share his family. Edward Newgate was the only father that Ace had ever known.

  And I got him killed.

Ace couldn’t breath around the knot in his throat.

“Pop’s… I’m so-”

“Don’t you dare.”

Ace swallowed tensely and looked over his shoulder. Marco’s gaze, normally half lidded and lazy, had sharpened. A gaze golden now outside of a phoenix transformation, a sign of how intensely Marco felt about Ace’s near apology.

“Marco…”

“Don’t. Pops died for you, Little Oars jr. did too. Don’t disrespect their love for you by apologizing for their willing sacrifice. If Luffy told you he was sorry he survived after you died for him, how would you feel?”

Ace worked his jaw slowly. The guilt in his heart wasn’t alleviated, not a bit, but he knew the truth in Marco’s words. If Luffy apologized for living-

  Luffy.

Ace looked away from Marco, back to the grave. He bowed his head to hide his dampening cheeks. Where was his hat when he needed it?

“Thank you,” he said instead. “For being a wonderful father. I-I love you, pops!”

Ace could have sworn that he felt a massive hand weighing down on his back, warming his shoulders. A familiar laugh was carried on the wind.

  “I love you too, my son! “

~

“Man, Luffy is going to lose his shit when he sees me.”

Marco glanced over at Ace, who was very meticulously applying makeup to hide his freckles. He had taken to tying his long, flowing hair into a loose bun behind his head these days, and even in the warmer climate of Dressrosa he had his throat covered with the thick white scarf that fluttered behind his back when he ran. It wasn’t much of a disguise, in terms of effort, but often times the best ones were the easiest. Not to mention the fact that Ace had died, publically been executed, two years ago. Most anyone who saw him now would just assume they were crazy, or that there was just a strange resemblance between him and the young pirate prince.

Pirate Prince, now that was a strange thing to think.

At this point, it was more accurate to call Luffy the prince, seeing as he would be the next King and all.

“Does your brother know that his hat belonged to Roger?” Marco asked abruptly.

Ace’s head snapped towards him. The younger pirate stared at Marco open mouthed. So Ace hadn’t known either? Not that surprising. Ace hadn’t even been born when Roger died.

“Ah. Never mind then,” Marco waved his hand to dismiss his words. Ace was marginally less sensitive about his lineage since he regained his memories, Marco could only guess why. That was the only reason there hadn’t been an outburst of Ace’s Issues with the dead king.

“Wait, does that mean Shanks was on  his  crew?” Ace turned towards Marco. Marco handed him his combat boots.

“Shanks? Yeah, he was Roger’s apprentice back in the day. Trouble maker back then. Not much has changed,” Marco shrugged casually. This was all old news. Roger had always been pretty good at keeping his cabin brats out of the limelight, so the government and therefore the public didn’t know about his relationship. Still, he thought…

Well, it didn’t matter what he thought.

“Who knew,” Ace shook his head. He needed it clear for what they were about to do.

“For the record, I’m against this,” Marco said for the millionth time.

For the millionth time Ace replied, “That won’t stop me. Lu needs to know I’m okay.”

“Just… be careful,” Marco must have let some of his genuine worry leak into his voice because Ace’s expression softened. He crossed what little space there was in their cheap hotel room and sat next to Marco, close enough they were pressed side to side.

Marco couldn’t help it if he worried. He had already lost so much already. He had barely kept the crew together in the last two years and even now most of them were in hiding after the disastrous attempt at revenge.

The attempt he’d lead them in.

A strong arm draped comfortably across Marco’s shoulders.

“We sure are a pair, huh?” Ace joked. “What would Pops say?”

Marco snorted. “He’d tell us to get our heads out of our asses and start acting like pirates.”

“Yeah. So what are we doing sitting on our asses? We’ve got trouble to stir up!”

Marco shook his head and leaned on Ace. He didn’t like this, the whole thing smelled like a trap. As if the devil fruit wasn’t enough proof of the fact that they were luring people in, the whole country was populated by living toys. It made Marco’s skin crawl.

He still had a lot of questions in regards to the fruit, and exactly what had happened with Ace. People didn’t just disappear in a flare of red when they were supposed to be dead. Accounts of devil fruit were rare and far between, so he just assumed that it had something to do with the Flame Flame Fruit. And, Ace still had his fire power.

So, either the fruit that was being offered as a prize was a fake, or they were missing something important about Logias.

Thinking about it, Marco had never heard of a logia user dying.

There was so much about devil fruits that no one knew, so much that they didn’t understand. Even to the people who had eaten them, even to people like Marco, who had seen thousands of devil fruit in his long life didn’t know that much about them.

Marco sighed and gently shoved Ace. He pushed a ski cap into his hands.

“Get going. You’re in A block yeah? Be careful and remember-”

“No fires, I know, I know,” Ace held up his hand and an exhasperated surrender. He flashed Marco a guileless smile and, with a parting kiss, ran off through the door with his scarf pulled up over his mouth.

Marco had a very bad feeling about all of this.

~

Ace had had a good feeling about this, at the start of the fight.

By the time he was on his knees, gulping in air while the crowds screamed around him, his opinion had changed a little.

Mr. Store lay on the ground in front of him, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Blood dripped down a cut on his temple, saturating the brown paper bag that covered the rest of his face. One of his arms was bent at the wrong angle and the rubber on his boots had melted at some point. Hopefully no one would notice, what with the whole undercover thing.

Ace was breathing so hard he felt cold from his lungs outwards, only combated by his devil fruit abilities. Ace lifted his clenched fists above his head, tilted his face towards the sun a roared his victory for the world to hear.

He hadn’t thought the fight would be that hard. Everyone else in the block had fallen easily, but this Mr. Store just would  stay down.  Ace had to give credit where it was due, not a lot of people could take what he had dished out.

In the months since he had come back from the grave he had been training his ass off in a desperate attempt to get back to where he was, and to surpass that level entirely. If he couldn’t, he didn’t have the right to sail the seas. The New World was a place where only the strong survived, and Ace would not be a burden on Marco while they travelled together. So he trained, harder than he ever had in his life.

He would have been stronger if he hadn’t spent the last two years doing little more than running around a snow island, chopping wood and helping fix houses. But, he was stronger than he had been before, finally.

Strong enough to clear the coliseum block without using his devil fruit powers once.

...well, maybe once. Just to give him a little bit of leverage in that last bout.

Ace rocked unsteadily to his feet. He’d taken more damage than he’d wanted too. Marco was gonna be pissed when he got back. Actually, from the dark glower that was clouding his face from where he sat in the crowd, he was already pissed. Great.

Ace smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. His bun had almost come loose. God, he needed a haircut. After he wasn’t in hiding any more he was chopping it short again.

Luffy was here too. It had been impossible for Ace to miss him fighting in B block. This was going to be fun, he could already tell.

His good feeling only got better when he saw a flash of a gold helmet and a white beard turn through the same tunnel he was going through. Now, Ace had a plan when he came there. Beat everyone, show the world he was alive and challenge Luffy to meet him ‘where the sea meets the sky’. He was pretty confident that, even if Luffy couldn’t figure it out, that clever navigator of his would understand that there was a knock up stream around the next island.

Ace wanted a little bit of privacy for their reunion.

All those plans went out the window the second he realized he was within walking distance of his little brother. His little brother.

God, what was he ever supposed to say to him? He had speeches rehearsed in his head, excuses, apologies, pleas. But they all boiled down to thanks. Thanks that he had already given Luffy, given all of them on his deathbed. Er, death brick?

Ace grimaced and halted at the doorway to the place where the gladiators who won were all gathering. He clenched his hands into fists. Why was this shit so hard?!

It had been easier when he hadn’t known just how badly he’d fucked everything up in the past. It was almost enough to make him long for those days where the past was nothing more than the white wind the blew outside, untouchable, cold and dangerous.

Marco vanished in the crowd, also disguised though his was just some sun glasses and he actually buttoned his shirt up for once. He reappeared right above where Ace was hesitating, head poking out from the bricks that made up the colosseum. The whole place had a weird feel to it. It reminded him of walking on an iced over lake. Stable, with something lurking beneath the surface.

“Hey!” Marco tossed a pebble at Ace’s head. “Get going already.”

Ace rubbed the point of impact, like it had actually hurt, and made a face up at Marco.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” he crossed his arms over his chest childishly.

Marco rolled his sleepy eyes, looking utterly bored with Ace’s antics and indecision. For someone who was so bullheaded all of the time, when Ace’s self esteem issues reared their ugly head the cure was hard to find.

“Just go see him. Talk to him, if nothing else. He doesn’t even need to know your name.”

That was… a good point.

Ace fiddled with the dagger strapped to his hip. He’d taken that, and his hat and his necklace, off of his grave. He didn’t feel quite right without them, now that he knew they had been missing. It was a hollow mourning he hadn’t even known he’d been going through.

“Okay, okay,” Ace took a breath, squared his shoulders, and walked into the darkness.

~

Luffy had a habit of picking up weird people.  Really,   weird people. Ace stared at the guy in the diamond patterned pants and the red jacket. Honestly the most normal thing about him was the green hair. Those  teeth.

Ace made a face.

He hadn’t meant to take so long to catch up to Luffy, but removing the makeup that hid his freckles and then tracking the boy down took more time than he wanted it to. Which was how he had gotten there just in time for the green haired weirdo, Bart or Romeo, he hadn’t been paying attention, to declare that he would win the Flame Flame fruit on Luffy’s behalf.

“That’s pretty bold talk, for a rookie,” Ace chided. The sound was muffled by his scarf. “Maybe I’ll win.”

The green haired man stomped towards him, half slouched over. Even like that he towered easily over Ace. Ace didn’t so much as blink. He hadn’t planned on having audience. On top of this guy, someone else was walking down the hallway towards them.  Ace glanced over. An uncomfortably familiar hat bobbed in the dimly lit tunnel.

The ‘S’ on his arm itched.

“Who do you think you are? Do you know who I am? I’ll win the fruit for him for sure!” he roared, pointing at Luffy. Ace peered around his shoulder and waved. It was all he could do. Even with the goofy disguise the dark brown eyes that squinted at him were unmistakable.

All Ace could manage was a strangled, ‘hey Lu.’.

He cleared his throat, ignoring the way that Luffy’s eyes got just a little bigger. The scar on his chest throbbed painfully. This was Luffy. Luffy, who he’d caused so much pain. He probably would have been better off if they never even me-

  Being alone is worse than any pain.

Ace mentally shook himself. This wasn’t the time for his self deprecation. Luffy needed to know. He needed to know that Ace hadn’t broken his promise. He needed to know he still had one brother left in this world.

“I’m afraid,” the stranger in the top hat said, coming to a halt next to them, “That I can’t let either one of you win the Flame Flame Fruit.” A thin smile slid across the half shadowed face. “Straw Hat Luffy.”

So this guy recognized his little brother too? Ace shifted on his feet, freeing a hand from his pockets. He lay his fingers around the hilt of his dagger. He wasn’t the only one defensive of Luffy, the green guy swaggered over, baring his teeth.

“Who the hell are you supposed to be? Where are you from? You can’t talk to him so casually!”

Ace sighed. Where did Lu find these people? He was a magnet for outcasts, oddballs, and victims of misfortune.

Oh, he was still talking.

“He’s the brother of the legendary Fire Fist Ace! Of course he’ll get the fruit!”

At that, Ace couldn't stop it. He laughed. All eyes snapped to him. He held his hands up, placatingly.

“Ah-ha, don’t mind me. It’s just, that fruit up there is fake. The real ones already been eaten.”

“How can you laugh at his tragedy!” the green man screamed in Ace’s face. Ace put his hand on his cheek and shoved him hard enough to send him into a wall.

The man stumbled away. Ace hadn’t actually hurt him. He was a friend of Luffy’s, after all. “You can’t- He’s going to be King of the Pirates one day!”

Ace smiled. Luffy kept finding these people with so much faith in him. So, weird or not, he could give the green guy his support.

“Oh, I’ve known that since way back,” the strange waved his hand in a gesture that was a little too familiar. There was something about him… Ace could swear he knew him, but the only real resemblance was impossible. So, who was he?

Before Ace’s eyes, the top hat came down. A fluff of blond hair appeared, an ugly scar that Ace recognized as being from fire painted his face. A face that, even twelve years older Ace would recognize anywhere. His throat closed up, squeezing a hiss through his teeth.

That was-

“Sabo.”

Past that he couldn’t hear anything they were saying, the words no more than static in his brain. Ace could only watch, jaw dropped from behind his scarf as Luffy, tears and snot pouring down his face, launched himself at the blond. Sabo was- Sabo was-

Sabo was  alive.

Ace felt like he was a world away, no more than a bystander as Sabo turned his head and gasped for air, being strangled by Luffy’s rubber hug.

“B-but Sabo!”

Luffy’s sobs finally broke through the white noise machine that had replaced his ears. His heart wrenched his chest when Luffy poured his words out.

“I let Ace get killed right in front of me!”

Ace took an unsteady step forwards. He didn’t know if he wanted to hug or beat the shit out of both of them.

“I know,” Sabo’s smile didn’t fade at all. “Even still, I’m so happy you survived. I almost lost both of my brothers. If you had died, I would have been completely alone.”

“No!” the word burst past his lips. Sabo and Luffy looked over at him, one bawling his eyes out, the other happy as composed as he was. Ace gripped his white scarf with shaking fingers. His own eyes were starting to get blurry.

“You- you wouldn’t have been alone,” Ace ripped the scarf away, burning the stupid ski cap right off of his head, a few stray tears slipping down his face. “You didn’t let me die, Lu! I’ve been here the whole time!”

There was a beat of silence and for an instant Ace feared Luffy didn’t believe him. That he’d have to prove it.

Then a long arm slung around his shoulders and Ace found himself being slammed against his brothers. His brothers! Luffy  and Sabo, all three of them. Ace’s knees grew weak and he was left with no choice but to cling to Sabo for support.

“Thank you,” he choked against Sabo’s shoulder. “Thank you! Sabo, Luffy!”

"Thank you for loving me!"

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #marco the phoenix #ace x marco #portgas d. ace #mugiwara no luffy #sabo #sabo one piece #ace lives