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seedsinmygarden · 8 months

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Reborn as a Dragon Patronus!

This was a really cool concept that I wanted to bring to life in the best way, and that was in long paragraphs, nearly a oneshot for each of them! While I didn't get to write all of them (Scarlet finished the rest), I'm still very happy with how I did those that I did finish.

Word Count: 2,240 words

Tags and Warnings: Mentions of death and angst. Lots and lots of angst. Platonic pairings will be specified, all the others can be interpreted as romantic or platonic!

It had been a year since 6th year MC left Hogwarts grounds, in search for a bandit camp to take down. However, a small bandit camp quickly turned into a bandit castle’s worth of Ashwinders, all far too powerful and overwhelming MC to the point that one Avada Kedavra took them out when they weren’t looking. Their body was left in the middle of the streets of Hogsmeade, as a warning to those who dared to cross their paths. The news had spread, and the school had mourned, and life carried on. Since then, the Hero of Hogwarts’ legacy had continued onwards in the school, especially in the lives of students and professors that knew them best.

AMIT THAKKAR: ANTIPODEAN OPALEYE

Amit had seen it flying over Hogwarts first. A dragon rare to the Scottish Highlands, an Antipodean Opaleye. But the rumor was, it didn’t have the normal glittering multi-colored eyes. Poppy was curious, most curious, and wanted to go find it, just to see. And she had invited Amit so they could use his telescope to look from afar, without ever having to actually approach the dragon.

Amit hadn’t regret a decision more than he had regretted this one, because the Opaleye was now right in front of him, smoke breathing threateningly from its nostrils. Poppy had managed to hide, but Amit had tripped— he doesn’t think she even saw his embarrassing fall, she thought that he, too, had gotten to safety when the Opaleye had charged their hiding spot.

“Hi… nice dragon…” He carefully scoots himself backwards, still sat back on his butt. He meets the dragons eyes and… suddenly, he could see MC’s eyes. MC’s face. “Starlight…” He breathes, and suddenly, the smoke stops. The dragon’s eyes shone as it continues to look down at Amit.

As quickly as it had come, it was gone. Amit could feel Poppy next to him, asking all sorts of questions but her voice dissolves into the background. All Amit could focus on was watching the dragon as it flew away.

NATSAI ONAI: CHINESE FIREBALL

Natty spent months mourning. She had loved MC endlessly, and found comfort in them similar to the comfort she had found in her own late father and to see them ripped away from her as well left her in a bad place. Eternally grateful for the support of her mother and friends around school, Natty was back to normal in no time. She, however, added a new habit to her weekly routine.

Once a week, usually on the weekend, she’d continue MC’s work. Take out bandit camps, free the animals from poachers camps, even break up dragon rings with Poppy’s help. She had timed it well too, because there was one last dragon ring to take down in the Hogwarts Valley, and it was her last weekend at Hogwarts before she would travel the world as a healer, caring for people who cannot afford St Mungo’s or any sort of hospital alternative. She wouldn’t be back in Hogwarts long-term for at least a decade, so she wanted to finish what MC had set out to do since they had arrived at Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have a ton of luck. Natty and Poppy were quickly separated by the chaos, which they had a Plan B for thankfully but it was still quite a dire situation to be in. Natty had found herself in a room with a very alert Chinese Fireball, as evident from the way it stood tall in front of her. Smoke billows from its nostrils and Natty freezes. Shit. She glances behind her, hearing the commotion from the poachers and dragon ring organizers approaching.

“Hope you can help me with this one, friend!” Natty exclaims, raising her wand and destroying the shackles that chained down the scarlet-scaled dragon. It rears up, stretching out its wings, and then breathes in a great breath. The poachers and ring organizers didn’t even get a chance as they entered the room, nearly immediately hit with a huge fireball that set fire to the tent they were in. It lets out a marvelous, threatening roar, much like that of a lion.

It steps down from its pedestal, lowering its head to look Natty in the eye. Suddenly, it was kneeling, lowering a wing for her to climb onto its back. Natty blinks, in shock and in awe. She climbs on quickly, knowing the only way out of that tent was upwards as the fireball had set fire to her entrance and exit.

It flies up and out into the open sky, Natty screaming and holding tight. She watches as the Chinese Fireball dragon burned the camp to the ground as she tried to spot Poppy amidst the dangers. She had yelled to the Fireball not to hurt Poppy, but it seemed as if the dragon knew her too and was already aiming anywhere but at Poppy. With a downward swoop, the Fireball scoops up Poppy and tosses her into the air, letting her land behind Natty before finishing off the ring with a wave of fireballs.

The Chinese Fireball stops its hellfire, now flying away from the damages. It lands not too far from Clagmar Coast, and Natty and Poppy slide off with ease. It looks at them again, and the eyes reminded her greatly of MC. Natty smiles. “I hope I have done well for you, MC.” The Fireball nods, closing its eyes for a moment, and then it flies off. Poppy leans against Natty with a small smile, watching the dragon go.

LUCAN BRATTLEBY: CHINESE FIREBALL (platonic!!!)

Lucan once had five siblings. He was the second oldest. Now in seventh year, he had just turned 17 years old. That’s one year older than his older sibling when they died. He was the last to leave the Great Hall the night of his birthday. MC may not have been related to him by blood, but he still very much saw them as an older sibling, someone he could rely on and fall back on whenever he needed the support. They were also rather close to the rest of the Brattlebys, so it was hard on his sisters too… and he often felt like he wasn’t allowed to grieve as he had to help his little sisters grieve first.

He had taken the mantle of Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor and was on his way to the professional leagues— he hoped to join Imelda Reyes on the Hollyhead Harpies!— and more often than not, he found himself in the air to help him unwind and reconnect with himself. Sometimes he struggled… other times, he came back feeling refreshed.

Standing from his spot at the Gryffindor table, Lucan beelines for the Floo Flame station and sends himself away to the Flying Lawn, where he had then summoned his broom and took off into the skies, feeling the wind whip through his curly hair. He takes a breath of the cool fall air as it passes him. Refreshing.

“BOMBARDA!” The spell had come out of nowhere as he passed over what he hadn’t even realized was a bandit camp. It was a smaller one, thank Merlin, but the Ashwinder who had fired the spell was incredibly good, and the blast hit his broom, throwing him off and he was suddenly freefalling.

This is it. This is how it ends.

A roar echoes through the skies, and he suddenly felt himself grabbed by two great hands with claws. Lucan breathes heavily to catch his breath and he looks up to find a large Chinese Fireball with the angriest look in its eyes. Lucan found his mind thinking to the time he had been an idiot and MC was pissed at him. This… this was that same fire. Good Merlin.

“MC?” He asks, voice drowned over the wind. The Chinese Fireball paid no attention to him, instead focusing a barrage of fireballs down at the bandit camp— quite frankly, a lot of overkill… but perhaps it made sense in some ways.

When the Fireball had finished it’s plight, it flew Lucan the whole way back to the school, lowering him onto the empty Quidditch Pitch. Lucan, as soon as he had recovered and stood up, looks up at the Fireball whose head had lowered to him. His jaw was dropped slightly in awe, and instinctively, he had raised his hand and strokes their snout.

“Thank you.” He says, then his voice wobbles. “I miss you.” The dragon leans into Lucan’s touch, before stepping back and then flying away.

Lucan has five siblings. He was going to miss his older sibling for the rest of his life, related by blood or not, but he was going to carry on their legacy with his head held high. He was going to take care of his younger siblings just like they had taken care of him.

PROFESSOR WEASLEY: ANTIPODEAN OPALEYE (platonic!!!)

Professor Weasley had gotten reports of some underage students sneaking firewhiskey from the Forbidden Forest, so she was off to find where they had hidden their stash. She harbored the guess that they had found this stash in an old bandit camp from that eventful year only a few years before. The professor knew that this was probably one of the camps that MC themselves had decimated in their work, just before their death… but a part of her wondered if this was the camp they had died in?

Regardless, she had cautiously stepped into the camp, wand out and at the ready for any surprises that may be thrown her way. She didn’t want to think about MC’s death. What happened, happened. All she could do now was honor their life as they had lived it. They may have had a short time within the Wizarding World, but they certainly left a legacy within Hogwarts. She was going to ensure that.

A clatter across the camp attracts her attention, and she turns towards it in a flash. “Who’s there?!” She would call, and then the clatter sounds again. Professor Weasley approached the sounds, finding the now-emptied bottles of firewhiskey surrounding her as she approached a tent that was clearly once the food tent back when they was a legitimate bandit camp. Turning the corner, however, she wasn’t quite prepared to come face to face with a baby Antipodean Opaleye.

It’s beady eyes look up at her, frozen in place, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The eyes were different from a normal Antipodean Opaleye’s, which was certainly curious… they were, instead, the same color as MC’s eyes once were. The same shade and all. Even the shock of being caught…

“You remind me of someone I once knew. Quite ironic.. they were the Knight of Hogwarts, and yet here you are, as a dragon.” Professor Weasley chuckles, finding quite a bit of hilarity in the situation. “It’s usually the knight that defeats the dragon, not become it.” The baby Opaleye approaches Professor Weasley cautiously, and she kneels, setting her wand on the ground momentarily— within reach in case she had trouble, but also out of hand to show she wasn’t a threat. The precious little being lies down at her feet, and then promptly turns around onto its back, opening up its belly for a stomach rub. Professor Weasley only chuckles, giving the little thing what it wanted.

PROFESSOR RONEN: ROMANIAN LONGHORN (platonic!!!)

The halls of Hogwarts certainly felt much emptier without any trace of MC, and Professor Ronen could feel it. He had, admittedly, been happy to leave when Professor Sharp had asked him to gather some potion ingredients from the Forbidden Forest. A rest on a rock in the middle of what once was a spider’s den— his energy wasn’t what it used to be when it came to duels— and he hears squelching from a spider near him. His head shoots over, prepared to kick some spider ass again, when he sees a tiny little baby Romanian Longhorn dragon.

For a moment, he’s confused, then he chuckles, watching as it chomps pleasantly into one of the corpses of a spider. It seems to pay no heed to him at all. Perhaps for the better— Romanian Longhorns are big boys. The biggest boys. Yeesh. Just as he’s trying to sneak away, however, there’s a squeak and the Romanian Longhorn looks at him. It walks up to the Charms Professor, and almost flops into a seating position in front of him, panting like a dog awaiting a treat.

“You’re incredibly friendly, aren’t you?” Professor Ronen questions kindly, but also nervously. This dragon is suddenly trusting him? Where is his mother? Was he about to get swooped out of the sky for being so close to her baby? The Longhorn yawns, then lies down at his feet, curling up and falling deep into slumber. The way they curled up took him so far back… back to the days MC would fall asleep in his class because they were out on excursions like his current one.

Professor Ronen removes his hat, and he cries. He didn’t know how much he had missed MC until he was met with such a striking resemblance of something they once used to do so often. The Longhorn even snored just like MC. Maybe he can let himself be a bit late in his return to the castle… and enjoy this small reminder of MC.

#hogwarts legacy #hl oc #fanfic #hogwarts #amit thakkar #natsai onai #poppy sweeting #lucan brattleby #professor weasley #professor ronen #x mc #x reader #scarletravenlegacy #peter's fluxweed

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majoringinsarcasm · 1 year

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WHAT THE HECK IS UP PARTY PEOPLE THIS EPISODE WAS MADE FOR ME SPECIFICALLY LETS GOOOOO

Well if we didn’t know from the title alone what was gonna happen heheheheh

WAIT THE INTO CHANGED E SEE JAUNES FACE SHUT UP AHHHH

Oh ok I see this chapter was made to hurt me personally ok cool

HE SAW CRESCENT ROSE????

what the fuck

This is a literal horror movie HE PICKED A CLOCK FROM A TREE AND TIME WENT BACKWARDS HES ALL ALONE

Hey uh here uh hey what the FUCK

HE HAD TO WAIT FOR THEM TO FALL im sick I’m so sick

NOT A GROUP HUG I SAID I WOULD DISSOLVE AND NOW IM CRYING NOOOOOOOOO

I’m so serious if he dies or cannot go back home I will not be able to handle it. Like y’all don’t get it I will Not be consolable

AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY AYYYYYYYYYYYY KARA MUST BE LOVING THIS OK WHITEKNIGHT OK OK I SEE YOU

I know a lot of ppl don’t like it bc early volume Jaune was a total dork loser nerd almost nice guy but really he wasn’t he was just a dork but I don’t have many super strong opinions about ships besides the bees, Renora and I think Rosegarden is cute. So while I’m not like an active Whiteknight shipper…. Girl get it lmao WEISS YOUR FACE HAHAHAH

Im gonna Cry

Like I just wanna be clear I’m not Mad at Jaune At All. This poor guy has been here alone for years and has had plenty of time to “lick his wounds” but he had to do it Alone with no outside input or kind words or a friend to cry with. Him being harsh makes me sad bc it just. When Ren yelled at him after they lost Oscar he didn’t lash out or Anything but the girls sitting and talking and arguing sets him off bc. He’s been ALONE I’m so sick

His village 🥺 he knows the names of places I’m

What if he really doesn’t go back I know there was talk of Neo staying behind but y’all

Im. Going. To. Scream.

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ONNNNNNNNNNNNMN also I can’t tell if the Ever After has independent weather as well as reaching to Ruby OR if it’s now reaching to Jaune

Im scared

WHO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO bitch we are getting Lore

Is the cat Louis / Lewis

This cat leave my man ALONE

BITCH WHAT IS HAPPENING

A PUNDERSTORM???? Or like Ponder said a different way THIS IS SO MUCH

And it does have its own weather lmao

UM WEISS HELLO

she really is the star of this volume like I’m sorry that’s the truth

“Must’ve had something bigger to work out” OK OK OK OK OK

Ok but I hate heights so I would throw up or pass out if I was Blake and Yang like bruh

HOW DO WE TSKE THE NEXT STEP AHHHHHHHHHHH

LOL Jaune please

Ok so time loops and time trickery are hard. So. Jaune turned back time enough for Alyx and Louis to show up which was. A long time ago maybe idk. So it’s not Neo bc Neo had not yet fallen.so what the hell did Herb show her

POISON?????

Stop it oh my god they’re too cute the emotional whiplash of me crying over Jaune and me crying over Bees I can’t handle it

SHE THINKS HER CAT EARS ARE CUUUUUTE

MAYBE ITS SAYING THINGS WE NEVER SAID TO EACH OTHER

Blake loves how honest Yang is. Adam only ever told her lies or tried to convince her that his way was the correct way. Yang listens to her and never sugarcoats; she never tries to trick. She Does What She Says

Blake never gave up on her even when she showed similar signs of being like Adam she decided to trust her. She wasn’t intimidated by how loud and brash and in her space Yang was. She knows what matters to her and has never been afraid to go for them

ANY BIG TRUTHS WE HAVEN'T DROPPED ON EACH OTHER YET

NOBODY TOUCH ME THE COLORS ARE SO BEAUTIFUL YANG IS AFRAID TO STEP OUT ONTO THE OPEN AIR SHE IS AFRAID BUT BLAKE ITS OK ITS OK YANG BLAKE WILL BE THERE WITH YOU

Also the blushing here is like idk what but it looks so good. Like I can’t describe what I mean but the way it makes their eyes look so bright it’s just very good AND SEEING YANG BLUSH SO MUCH SHE'S SO CUTE

EVERYONE SIT DOWN NOBODY MOVE GET ON THE GROUND LOOK AT THIIIIIIIS LOOK AT THEEEEEEM

BLAKE LMAO BLAKE WAS READYYYYYY

STOP ATOP STOP IM CRYING OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD THEY ARE SO CUUUUUUUUTE THE BLUSHING IM TELLING YOU ITS SO GOOD THIS IS ALL SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL

DO YOU LOVE THE COLOR OF THE BUMBLEBY SKY

and then back to my saddest boy ever GOD the whiplash

Alright cat I understand how you feel. But the girls up front told you they were trying to go home. Yes they were trying to get you to take them there but they didn’t offer you any deals or say they would bring you to Remnant. Unless you’re Louis and we’re betrayed by your sister in which case that’s fucked up and I’m on your side it all depends on WHAT THE FUCK ALYX DID DOES ANYONE KNOW CAUSE WE STILL DONT

but like we have four episodes left WHAT are we gonna do gang

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

NOT BLAKE WITH THE PRINCESS DIARIES FOOT POP

JAUNE SHIPS IT TOO LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOO LMAO HES BEEN WAITING THE LONGEST OF ANYONE

oh my god if that’s crescent rose I’m gonna scream

Oh but she doesn’t want it / isn’t ready to pick it up again GOD IM CRYING

so. Is she gonna trade crescent rose in order to leave is that the vibe I’m getting.

GOD THAT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD I won’t lie I was spoiled about the kiss but that was my own being silly fault but I only knew that they did kiss and not THE COMPLIMENTS AND CONFESSION BRIDGE and also like. Y’all I love Jaune Arc of the Arc Family so goddamn much so this episode was for me THEY CHANGED THE INTRO TO SHOW HIS SAD FACE god lordy what the fuck is next week gonna do to me

#rwby 9 spoilers #reaction #long post #GOD GOD GOD OH MY GOD #ALL OF THE BOTTLES LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE BOTTLE IS POPPED

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Hi Eve! Could you maybe write something like Sirius having a majorly stressful week and he's been on edge all day and he finally decides to go talk to Heather if only to just let it all out. By the time he comes home he's exhausted but Remus is all ready for him, and he's greeted with the sight of Remus in a nice little heap of blankets and pillows piled up on their sofa with a Disney movie ready to play and all his favourite snacks lined up on the coffee table. And Sirius of course just about dissolves into a puddle of affection and gratitude because Loops 🥰🥰🥰

It's honestly concerning how much fluff I write. Oh, well! This is such a cute idea and I'll never pass up an opportunity to write soft Coops <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“So, you’ve started baking?” Heather looked up as Sirius nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. It still smelled a little like Remus from the last time he stole it, but not nearly enough to drown him in comfort. “That’s awesome. If you don’t mind, can I ask why you chose that as a hobby?”

“It’s—” Stupid. He bit the words back at the last second; Heather never liked self-deprecation, and they had been working on positive self-talk for…as long as Sirius could remember, really. “Uh, I helped Re’s mom make a pie over the holidays and I just have good memories associated with it, I guess.”

Heather jotted something down, her soft smile never faltering. She was wearing a sweater the same color as her name—it was distilled comfort, and Sirius felt some of the tension release from his back. “You said you do it when you’re stressed, right?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does the rhythm help, or is it something else?”

He stared at his hands, rubbing his thumb over the callus from his favorite spatula that was beginning to form. “I think…” he trailed off and bit his lower lip. Honesty always wins. Why do you like it so much? “The rhythm helps quiet my head down, yeah. And it smells like home. And—and if I do it right, I can’t screw it up.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“If I follow the recipe, it works. Every time. I can read the instructions as many times as I need to, and I can focus on that until everything up here—” He gestured vaguely toward his head. “—shuts up for a bit.”

Heather nodded; the room was quiet for a moment while she wrote before she settled into her chair and let out a slow breath. “I’m really happy you started doing this, Sirius.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. We’ve talked about finding healthy amounts of control and tethers in your daily life, and from what you’ve said, this makes you happy in addition to helping you calm down. What do you do with everything you make?”

He shrugged. “Give it away, mostly. It’s healthier than store-bought stuff, and the guys like it. Re and I can’t eat it all ourselves.”

“How often do you stress bake?”

“Oh, probably three or four times a week.”

Shit, shit, shit. Heather’s eyebrows crept upward. “Oh?”

“…yes.” Can’t take it back now.

“Okay.” She made a quick mark on her clipboard—for the hundredth time, Sirius wished he could snatch it and run. “Interesting. Why are you so stressed?”

“It’s not like that all the time,” he said quickly. “Just over the past couple weeks.”

“What’s been going on?”

“Everything?” he said. It sounded more like a question. Heather made another note. “It’s—well, Jules got the flu two months ago and Re wasn’t sleeping because he was worried, so I got nervous and started staying up later so I’d be tired, but then I got bored and worried about both of them so I texted Hope about her pie recipe—"

“Sirius,” Heather interrupted gently. He closed his mouth and tucked his hands into his sleeves, palms itching. “Deep breaths, then tell me what’s been going on these past couple weeks specifically that was stressing you out.”

He obliged, counting ten before speaking again as his brain stopped feeling like someone poured pop rocks into it. “Right. So, this whole habit thing started two months ago, and we’re getting closer to you-know-what—”

“The playoffs?”

He made a quiet noise of distress and tapped the wood of the chair. “Oui, that. There’s a lot of pressure from last year, and when my friends are stressed, I get stressed, and baking is easy and fun so I just…didn’t stop. A lot of things are happening right now, and this feels like the only one I can control.”

“There you go,” she said with a proud smile. “Thank you.”

“What did I do?”

“You’re being more open and honest with yourself. It’s good to see.” She crossed one leg over the other and leaned slightly forward. “You’re a really, really good captain, Sirius. You are so in-tune with the other people in your life, but you’ve got to remember to step back and do things for yourself sometimes. Right now, baking is your stress relief because you can’t control your friends’ lives or emotional states. Try to find more things like that.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Are you diagnosing me with ‘needs a hobby’?”

“In a sense, yes. You have done an incredible job over the past few months of letting your world revolve around things other than hockey. Branching out to baking was an excellent choice. Now it’s time to find other things that give you similar comfort, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Fantastic. Let’s brainstorm.”

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

Sirius dropped his bag next to the shoe rack and immediately leaned back against the door, closing his eyes with a sigh. Therapy was always exhausting, but usually in a good way. Already, he could feel the weight of the last three weeks lifting off his shoulders. “I’m home!” he called.

Remus materialized from the living room and padded over in his fuzzy socks, planting a kiss on each of Sirius’ cheeks. “You look tired. Good or bad?”

“Good,” he assured him. “We worked on finding a hobby.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, baking every other day isn’t a great long-term coping mechanism.”

Remus kissed him lightly on the lips. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

Sirius pulled back with a frown. “I thought you liked my baking.”

“I do. I also worry about how much space we have in our kitchen, and how much you sleep.” He gave Sirius a squeeze around the waist and patted his hip. “Now c’mere, I have a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” Sirius asked warily as he allowed himself to be pulled toward the living room. “Do we have company?”

“Does Hattie count?”

The dog in question barked when they entered the room, though she was buried beneath a mountain of blankets and only her nose and tail stuck out. In the hour and a half Sirius had been gone, the living room had transformed into a massive fort—the couch cushions were propped up around a nest of pillows and blankets, and low amber light fell over everything from the side table lamp. It radiated coziness and warmth; he felt the last bits of his exhaustion settle into contentment. “Wow.”

Remus beamed at him. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” He cupped his face in his hands and nudged their noses together. “And I love you. So much. I’m going to go rinse off and change, but can we cuddle afterward?”

“What do you think this is for?” Remus teased. “You took my sweatshirt.”

“It’s too big for you anyway.”

“How long until I find it in my laundry pile because it doesn’t smell like me anymore?”

Sirius pretended to think for a moment, though he couldn’t keep his smile down as happiness bubbled through every vein. “Tomorrow.”

“Go take your shower,” Remus laughed, then kissed him once again. “I’ll see if I have anything else that’ll fit you.”

#sirius black #remus lupin #hattie #heather #sweater weather #coops #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #therapy #baking

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uwuwriting · 4 years

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What did I miss? w/ Hawks and Dabi

Request: Okay so hear me out: Hawks’ and Dabi’s s/o (as separate headcanons, or you can just choose one) is also a pro hero/villain and the lads think she died or something and they just become enraged and they’re so distressed (and the ending is soft because she’s okay and maybe they cry) I love your writing, I hope you have a nice day! -🐍

Lol I had a similar request some time ago for our younger boys which I never got around to doing because I’m bad at fulfilling requests and following orders lol. This will be both hilarious and angsty. Well hilarious if you have my sense of humour otherwise I’ll have to add cricket sounds. Okay maybe its not that funny but oh well, it didn’t make me cry at least. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: angst and fluff, mentions of injury and death, swearing.

Hawks/ Keigo Takami

-Having two winged heroes on patrol always kinda led to disaster.

-You both would race each other to your randevouz points or you would mock each other about your wing span.

- “You know what they say about your wing span? The bigger the wings well....the bigger the assets.”

-You had bigger wings then him just for a few centimeters but you rubbed it in his face all the time.

- “Why am I in love with you again?”

-It really bothers him bc you keep saying he has a smaller dick than you....and you don’t have a dick so.....yeah....anyways.

-You were on patrol once again, goofing around on a rooftop.

-It was late at night and you could be a little more handsy since there were’t many possibilities someone could walk in on you.

-Keeping your relationship a secret is hard and baby can keep his hands to himself for so long until he breaks.

-Suddenly out of nowhere you started hearing screams and cries for help.

-Keigo didn’t even get a chance to say anything before you were flying towards the building that was on FIRE.

-Dashing right after you he entered the building nad he was half expecting to see you there in the entrance, but he saw no one, only a large chunk of flaming wood etched into the mahogony floor.

-His mind immediately went to the worst scenario possible; it was like he couldn’t control his own thoughts.

-But right then, when his panic was beginning to surface, he heard you calling out for him.

-The rescue of the residents took around half an hour and it got harder and harder as time went on.

-The fire was getting out of control and was getting harder to locate everyone.

-One apartment was left in the end and you could here crying coming from inside.

-The fire was basically licking at your boots at this point but you weren’t about to let someone burn.

- “Get those last two outside and I’ll meet you at the rooftop across the street.”

- “Y/N-”

- “Keigo GO! I promise I’ll meet you outside.”

-And that was the last thing he heard from you that night.

-He did as he was told, he got the last two people out of the building and soon after them a toddler was carried out of the building.

-He waited for you to come out next but you never came.

-The flames licked at the sky, their tips seeming to be touching the moon.

-The roof collapsed in on itself making the rescue teams to back away as they looked in horror as the whole flat came crumbling down.

- “SHE’S IN THERE!”

-HE doesn’t remember much from that night.

-He knows he went back inside or at least tried to get past the debris.

-He remembers seeing the color of your wings, that beautiful white, peeking out from under a fallen beam.

-He remembers the upper floor almost crashing him as he tried to get you out and then nothing.

-He woke up in a hospital bed, dressed in one of those white robes his whole body screaming at him not to move.

-If he was being honest he forgot for a moment the events of the previous night and he was expecting to find you sleeping on the chair next to his bed, your hand in his just like you had done so many times before.

-But you weren’t there and then everything came pouring in.

-Frantically he got up and he reached for the door, yanking it open and coming face to face with a doctor.

- “Where is she?”

- “Sir you should be in bed, you injuries-”

- “goddammit WHERE IS SHE?”

-His outburst had attracted some of the nurses but he couldn’t care less about his image right now.

-Where you gone? But he remembers getting you out from under those fallen stairs. Maybe you were already dead when he reached you.

-No no no you had promised ot find him outside, you had told him so. That’s why he left, that’s why he did as you said. What was he supposed to do now? Without you here what is he supposed to do?

-Everything was muffled out, the ringing in his ears being to loud to allow him to focus on anything else.

-His breaths came out shallow as his head swam with thoughts.

-You couldn’t be gone you just couldn’t he had so much he wanted to do with you, so many things planned you couldn’t-

- “Keigo?”

-He turned around slowly.

-At first he thought he was dreaming, your voice always seemed to soothe him when he was destressed.

-But then his eyes landed on you all bandaged up and sporting crutches.

-You were hurt but you were alive, you were here, you were alright.

- “What did I miss birdbrain?”

-He launched himself at you bringing you flush to his chest as he silently cried.

-He let a few I love yous slip past his lips before you both entered the privacy of his hospital room.

-Neither of you spoke for a long time.

-You just held each other as tightly as your stitches would allow before letting all the tears fall.

- “I’m here, we’re alright.”

Dabi

-You had been sent out on a mission on your own.

-Dabi had tried to convince Shiggy to let him go with you but he refused.

- “I’m not sending you on this one with her. She is the best suited for this job and I’m not letting you mess it up just for your fuck buddy.”

-Shiggy really knows how to push Dabis’ buttons and if you ask me Dabi makes it easy at times.

-They were a pain in the ass.

-I mean you are going out on a mission let a girl get prepared in peace.

-Before they could set each other on fire and then dissolve into dust you dragged Dabi away telling Shiggy that you would be going soon.

- “Really Dabi at times I doubt if you trust me at all.”

- “It’s not that I don’t trust you dumbass. I just dontwantyoutogethurt.”

-Legit you didn’t hear anything he said but you had an inkling.

- “Oh what was that?”

- “I’m not saying it again.”

- “Here I am going out on a dangerous mission and you won’t even grant me one wish...how cruel.”

-He ended up saying it again but really really begrudgingly.

- “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

-You kissed his nose then his lips and let out a small I love you before heading down to the bar and getting the last info from Kurogiri.

-Now Dabi likes to see himself as a very heartless and stone cold individual.

-But you always were the exception to his behaviors so he couldn’t help but admit that he was worried.

-The mission was supposed to take three days plus one for you to return.

-It was still day two and he was ready to pull his hair out.

-But he promised you that he wouldn’t go out to search for you unless you have been gone for a week or more.

-So he just waited in agony.

-The moment though that you weren’t back in a week as you said you would be he went into a silent panic.

-He wanted to be nonchalant about it at first, just casually bringing up your whereabouts in convos with the league or asking Kurogiri of any mission reports from your end.

-Always came up with nothing.

-They had lost track of you two days ago and your last contact was yesterday.

-Now he was sure going to come after you.

-And no one could stop him.

-He knew you were strong and that you could handle yourself better than anyone in the league but he couldn’t stop himself from going after you.

-He had learned from Shiggy that the group you had targeted had a soft spot for torture if they caught someone in their territory.

-His mind of course went first to the worst case scenario, his pessimistc nature getting the better of him as flashes of you hurt on the floor of some basement ran throough his head.

-It didn’t take him long to reach your randevouz spot, mainly bc he was driving around Tokyo like a maniac.

-He entered the small house that was marked as you target and the first thing he was met with was blood.

-It was on the walls and on the floor and he couldn’t tell if this was yours or it was someone elses.

-Then he heard suffling from a closet nearby.

-It was a low scratching noise coming from the closet in the far back.

-He slowly approached it, his left arm letting small blue flames lick his fingertips as he opened the door.

-And then his heart dropped.

-Tumbling out of the closets’ interior was you, bloddied and bruised your arms barely keeping you propped up as you landed on the floor.

-He didn’t miss a beat.

-He scooped you up, moving stray hairs from your eyes as you barely kept them open.

-Your lip was split and you had a huge bruise right under your left eye.

- “Hey there baby.”

- “What the fuck happened Y/N?”

-You cringed as he moved his arms under your back, the pain being too much even for you.

- “They were waiting for me. I sent a message to Shiggy saying that I was coming back but he insisted I finish this. I managed to kill the leader but some of his rookies got to me.”

-He didn’t take you to the hideout.

-Oh no.

-If he had done that then there would be no Shiggy to lead them and there would’ve been a large fire in that area.

-He rented a room in a nearby motel.

-He let you rest while he went out and got you some disinfectants and bandages.

-Really when he was cleaning you up, if his tear ducts worked properly he would’ve cried.

-You woke up at some point while he was finishing up and you could feel his trembling and his silent sobs.

-You wrapped him in a hug, squeezing him as much as you could as you let your tears wet his t-shirt.

-His hands went up and down your sides and back, pulling you into his lap as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

- “I’m alright, see? That’s my heart beat.”

-You placed one of his palms over your heart in hopes that the subtle thud would calm him down.

-He really loves you and he won’t let anything happen to you ever again.

-Even if it kills him.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @bemorefiction

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gravityflops · 3 years

Text

Parent Guidance Recommended

word count: 3,281

focus characters: Pacifica Northwest, Fiddleford H. McGucket

warnings: child neglect, implications of alcoholism, implications of infidelity, mugging, knives, threatening, generally awful people

summary: On the worst birthday she’s ever had, Pacifica finds herself seeking support from a source she’d least expect; the new owner of the once-Northwest Manor, her own former home.

Pacifica was turning fourteen on the Fourth of July. A perfect birthday. Perfect girl. Perfect family.

Her parents would throw a party. Like any Northwest party, with gorgeous, itchy lace ball gowns and impeccable etiquette, each word in every conversation spoken with flawless flow, with purposeful posture and respect-demanding mannerisms. A perfect party for perfect people, with perfect food prepared.

After claiming her designated ruby-studded chair at the dinner table, she would be shocked when her plate was revealed to her. Deep-fried Roareos. Stacked in a small sweet-powdered delicious heap in front of her, chocolately, cream-filled cookies, dipped in batter and deep-fried to perfection. Sugary. Messy. Pacifica had never had it before. How did her parents know she wanted to try it?

She turned her head to cast a quizzical look to her parents, who’d been watching her, holding each other with loving smiles directed at her. A warm feeling spread inside her like warm butter. She reached for a fork.. but hesitated, and hovered her hand over the plate instead. She casted another glance at her parents to see their reaction. No cold response was elicited so far. In fact, she could have sworn her father nodded in approval.

She delicately picked one of the cookies up with her thumb and forefinger, and raised it to her lips to nibble at it. Her senses were flooded with warm, sweet goodness. Just as amazing as she imagined. She stuffed the rest in her mouth, going so far as to lick her fingers. Her lips were coated with melted cream. She neglected the napkins beside her plate to instead lick the sugar mixture from her lips. Barbaric. But her parents didn’t seem to mind either of the actions. She thought she even heard an amused giggle from her mother.

“Sweetie, would you like your presents now or after you’re finished?” Priscilla— no, this was Mom— asked. Pacifica paused. She had a say? Were they not on a schedule? She supposed if she was given the option, she would love to open gifts while she snacked on the rest of the Roareos.

“Now, please,” the young blond girl responded. On cue, one of the butlers was beside her, placing a neatly-packaged gift box on her lap. A beautiful purple silk ribbon sat on top, holding it together. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so eager to reveal its contents.

What was inside? Some comfy clothes? Paint, perhaps? A cute animal plush that would contrast the creepy porcelain dolls in her room? The possibilities were endless.

Delightfully, she tugged at it. The box opened. As she peered inside, her excitement dissolved. The warm feeling turned to ice.

The bell. The one her father carried on his person at all times. The one that willed his command in the mansion. The one Pacifica hated. Suddenly Preston was standing over her, slowly picking the bronze item up.

Loving smile gone, replaced with a disapproving, even disgusted scowl. She shrank in her seat.

“Pacifica Elise Northwest,” he boomed. “So it’s true. You’re mingling with the common, ignoble crowds these days.”

“No!” she found herself crying out. “It’s not like that! I have to!”

“Have to what? Work a lowly job as a waitress in that slobbish cesspit? At that- that disgusting, sorry excuse for a dining destination? THAT’S NOT ACCEPTABLE EVER. How can you call yourself a Northwest? How can you call yourself our daughter?”

The very first thought she woke up to was that it was too good to be real.

Tangled in her sheets, warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She sniffled and quickly wiped them away before slipping out of bed.

The house was dark. Silent. The clock on the wall read 7:52. Her parents’ bedroom was empty as she passed. It smelled of wine. They would not be back for a while. Pacifica found herself releasing a sigh, her tension easing a little, even if that meant she’d be spending her birthday alone for the very first time. She leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes, trying to recall the good part of the dream, trying to revive the taste of the sugary treat, but it was gone. Soured by the unreality of it. All it was doing was making her hungry belly ache.

When checking the refrigerator, cabinets and pantry and coming to the realization that all that was left was a loaf of bread, a half-empty tube of Bringles and a couple dinner kits. No breakfast food. Not even a single egg. Not even leftovers. Something like despair and disappointment blossomed inside her. She would have to eat at the diner again…

She snagged her wallet from the counter only to find her twenty had disappeared, leaving only a couple measly ones and fives and whatever coins were loose inside. She felt the tears building a little again and slapped the wallet shut to try to stifle them. There was a time she had nearly everything, but now after Weirdmaggedon, she couldn’t even trust that her own hard-earned cash wouldn’t be snagged if left around her own greedy birthgivers. Her strength was being sapped by the will not to burst into a sobbing fit. There was enough in there to cover breakfast at work when she got to Greasy’s, at least.

With her belly still growling, she changed out of her nightwear, threw on her apron and a pair of aviators and began the walk to work.

The day was a bright one, sunny and a little breezy. A pleasant temperature. It did not reflect how Pacifica felt. Despite the summer weather, she pulled her scarf over her head, casting shade over her face. The neighborhood streets were mostly void of people, every house gated off. Just because they lost the mansion did not mean the Northwests were living in squalor, but her spending money was strictly monitored. Her parents now enforced that any money she spent, she’d have to earn. A fourteen year old. A child. Just so her birthgivers could ensure a few extra dollars in their account.

Pacifica couldn’t help but feel the fanciness of the neighborhood was almost deceitful. Her own household was a prime example. Her own rumbling tummy was a prime example. She wondered if there were others who lived in these houses that had similar problems as hers. Unlikely here.. however there were definitely others, people who’d been pushed to extremes just to get by.

Whether that was the reason behind why Pacifica soon found herself being followed halfway through the trip, she didn’t know. The feeling of being watched intensified by the minute, and glances into the reflections of shop windows told her there was a person. They refused to let up for at least a couple of blocks, the likelihood that they were just going the same direction by chance was steadily decreasing. They probably saw her leaving the wealthier neighborhood. The young girl picked up her pace. It did her no good.

The next moments were a blur. Her arm was snatched. When she struggled, a slice put a stop to it. Her arm began to bleed. Something sharp pressed to her throat, stiffening every muscle in her body. Vulgar language was hurled at her, demanding cooperation before her purse was yanked from her shoulder, and she was thrown to the curb. She was left winded, bruised, panicked and hyperventilating. She struggled for her breath back.

Mugged. She’d been mugged for the few measly dollars she had on her. And the fact that her first thought after all that was concern for what her parents would think that she let those precious dollars be nicked in the first place.. it only increased her distraught. Her breaths hastened more and more, and she didn’t realize her tears had finally started to flow until she was already sprinting down the street, her vision muddled. Every step felt like thunder to her ears. Home. She just wanted to go home. Maybe she couldn’t be herself as much, and maybe she was always busy, under constant supervision. But at least there was stability. At least there was certainty of the future. At least it was comfortable, at least there was always food on the table, breakfast, lunch and dinner. At least her father never stumbled around reeking of alcohol while only Lord knew where her mother was. Maybe her parents weren’t the best to other people but at least she could be certain they were true to each other. At least she could pretend everything was fine.

Pacifica wasn’t sure how far she’d gone. She was sweaty, she felt gross and sticky. Her legs were sore, threatening to give out if she went any further. She was still bleeding. She ached everywhere. But she’d reached her destination. She stood at the bottom of a familiar, long driveway, and at the top, sitting on a large hill, towering over the town stood the proud family mansion. Waves of nostalgia and sorrow crashed over her. Everything felt so gross. Every memory tainted by the knowledge of her parents’ true nature. She couldn’t even speak to anyone, not even her parents. Who would listen to a rich brat whine about how she used to be richer? Certainly not any of the townsfolk.

She found herself staring at the manor for a while, not entirely sure what to do.

“...What am I doing here…?” Pacifica whispered, sniffling and reaching for the tissues she kept in her purse, only to be hit with the whirlwind of events that had just happened again. Her arm stung. She could barely hold herself upright. She felt so… so tired. She meekly wiped her nose on her sleeve, and started to turn around when suddenly she bumped into someone.

“Wo-ah there, kiddo, careful, better watch where ya—” a cheerful voice piped, before cutting itself off when the sight of Pacifica in her disheveled state registered. “Huh? Hey.. Ah’ know you.”

Color drained from Pacifica’s cheeks. This guy again.. Why was he here? She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks as she tried a witty remark, but — “Y-y-ea-h, well-, wh-o w-ou-uldn’-t-” — ultimately failing when her quivering body wouldn’t stop heaving sobs. Again she sniffled. Disgusting. In front of the hillbilly too.

McGucket’s face morphed into something like sympathy. He kneeled down to her height. “Ah- hey, what’s goin’ on kiddo? Are ya alright?”

Pacifica parted her lips. She wanted to say yes. Her instincts screamed at her to say yes. She could practically hear her birthgivers demanding her to say yes. She had to be perfect. She had to be flawless. She had to be stoic, proud, happy, for her family.

But that’s not what came out.

“n-NO!” she cried, her knees finally buckling as if the years of abuse weighing down on her shoulders finally came crashing down on top of her. Her face buried in her hands, sobbing violently into them. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay. Wails and cries escaped. She couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She was in so much pain, she was so alone. The sobs wouldn’t stop. The raging storm of emotion only continued to demolish her walls, clawing at her pride and self esteem. Everything she pretended to be crashed and burned at that moment.

Fiddleford had been a little stunned by the sudden breakdown, but he started to piece the situation together from the bits and pieces the poor girl was babbling. He didn’t get up and walk away like Pacifica was expecting him to. He stayed put, even placed his hand on her shoulder to try to console her. When she didn’t flinch away from him, the old man started rubbing circles on her back as she cried and cried. Fiddleford never was the best at comfort.. though he could only imagine how long this outburst had been bottled up, and he thought it best that Pacifica let it all out before trying to say anything.

It was a while before Pacifica’s sobs began to calm enough to allow her to speak in more coherent sentences. The story became clearer. She spoke about how her parents had mistreated her, like she was an accessory rather than a human being, a literal child. How things had been getting worse this past year since they were forced to move due to her father’s irresponsible stock market decisions during Weirdmaggedon, to preserve what fortune they had left. How she felt more at home at the diner than she ever did at her own residence. How she hardly saw her parents anymore. How everything had changed for the worst. The way her parents had become about money, even how they scolded her for ‘nagging’ about her birthday the previous day, when it had been the first time she brought it up in half a year. It all hurt terribly to speak of but Pacifica couldn’t help but notice the sudden weightless feeling after getting everything out. She was surprised to find Old Man McGucket was still listening.

“Y’know,” he spoke finally, “Ah knew a fella once who thought ‘e had everythin’ before ‘e lost it all too. ‘Should’a been there for ‘im like he needed.”

Pacifica was quiet for a moment. “..W..ho was he?”

Fiddleford only waved his hand. “Ol’ college buddy. Doin’ mighty fine these days. Now whaddya say we get off’a the street an’ patch up that lil’ ol’ scratch a’ yours inside?”

It tooka moment to register the question through his southern accent, but when she did, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “..I- inside..?”

Inside the mansion. Pacifica almost couldn’t believe it. Old Man McGucket was the one that bought the Northwest Manor. She wondered how on earth a former homeless man was possibly able to afford such a grand purchase, until peeks into a couple rooms along the hallway that had been filled with computers and strange machinery told her she didn’t know nearly as much about McGucket as she previously thought.

It was so strange walking through the hallways again. Everything was the same, but different. Was the grand rustic architecture and furniture always so beautiful? And… were those.. raccoons she was spotting out of the corner of her eyes?

McGucket led her to a room with a couch- a familiar silver-themed room with a certain carpet pattern. It looked nearly the same, except for the banjo leaning against the couch’s armrest, and maybe a few more stains than its previous flawless condition “for guests- that is, for guests to look at”. Despite her emotional state, she found herself smiling at the memory of her adventures with Dipper Pines, trying to bust that ghost… until she recalled the punishment her parents had made for her after that was all over. She began to feel a little sick. Her gaze dropped to the floor as McGucket trudged into the room, plopped onto the couch and patted the cushions beside him. Hesitantly, she followed him and did as gestured. It was.. weird to be back. She wiped her eyes again.

“How’d that’a happen?”

“..What?” the question hit her like a slap.

“The cut.” He gestured to the bleeding injury with a bandaged hand.

“...Oh.” Again, her gaze dropped. Her eyes began to mist again before she shut them. “..I-I.. I was.. um.. mugged on the way here… They stole my favorite purse…” Shame burned at her belly. She didn’t see any sign of judgement in McGucket’s reaction, though. He didn’t ask why she let that happen, or why she wasn’t responsible enough to bring someone with her. There was only concern for her.

“Oh.. ‘Ahm sorry that’a happened. Gravity Falls’s usually safe.. er- ah..” The old man scratched the back of his head. “‘least, it’s not the people ya gotta usually worry ‘bout.”

“Heh.. yeah..” Shrugging, the old man pulled out a full-blown first aid kid, temporarily baffling Pacifica for a moment. “Wai- were you just carrying that—?”

The question went without a response as McGucket went straight to disinfecting the cut. “‘Doesn’t look terri-bubly deep,” he piped. “Should’a stopped bleeding by now but we’ll patch it up ta’ keep it safe while it’s a-healin’.”

“Wait.. how do you know how to do this..?” Pacifica asked, furrowing her eyebrows a little. The old man gave her a cheery grin.

“Well, ‘gotta pick up somethin’ ‘bout it after livin’ in the dump buildin’ evil whatsits and thingamajigs outta rusty metal for a couple’a decades.”

..Oh. Well, that would make sense, she supposed.. Briefly, the question as to why he was being so nice to her after the way she and her family treated him crossed her mind. She wondered if that friend he mentioned had something to do with it… Suddenly she found herself wishing she’d paid closer attention to the details of the relationships between the other people involved in the zodiac. She guessed it could be that hotter Mr. Pines (or.. Dr. Pines?), she recalled seeing some kind of emotional exchange between him and McGucket during Weirdmaggedon.

Occupied with her thoughts, she hardly realized McGucket had completely finished with the bandage until he announced it.

“Done!” he cheered, stuffing the first aid kit back into the oblivion from which it came. Weird. More Gravity Falls weirdness. “...Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Y’always got’a listenin’ ear right here if ya’ need it.”

Pacifica gave him a small, grateful smile. The old man would never know what that meant to her.

“I.. I don’t know..” she sighed softly. “Today was just… awful… It’s the first birthday I’ll be spending alone, and I guess it’s… getting to me…”

“Yer birthday’s today?? Ah, Ah’m sorry, sugerbun,” McGucket spoke. “Awful break, goin’ through somethin’ like a’this on’a birthday mornin’. Say, ya always got a place right ‘ere if ya need. Plenty a’ empty bedrooms.”

Pacifica raised her head. “...R...Really..?”

McGucket beamed. “Why sure! Ya remind me a’ my lil’ Tator Tot, Ah’ miss ‘em somethin’ terrible. It gets a lil’ lonely in this ‘ere big ol’ mansion sometimes and ah wouldn’t mind a visit from some young folk from a’time ta’ time.”

She could… she could visit. Whenever she wanted? Her old home, without her parents around. McGucket was that okay with her? Even going so far as to compare her to (presumably) his own kid? That was… incredible. Before thinking it through, she threw her arms around the old man, chorusing her ‘thank you’s with a bubble of laughter. Though startled, Fiddleford slowly returned the hug with a warm smile.

He stank quite a bit. Pacifica recoiled a little at the realization of what she was doing. Ew. What would people think of her if they caught her doing something so unthinkable? Willingly embracing this stinky old man who…. gave incredible hugs.. Her concern suddenly dissolved. In its stead, a certain safety appeared, and she melted into it a little more. It was the same feeling she craved in her dreams. Dirt didn’t matter at all anymore. The feeling of a parental embrace shielding her from the unpleasantness of the world was all she could bring herself to care about at that moment. It felt so warm… Before she knew it, she was tearing up again.

“...Thank you, McGucket..”

“Heheh, anytime, sugarbun. Say, since it is yer birthday, whaddya say we hit th’ town an’ find somethin’ ta’ cheer ya up?”

Pacifica wiped her eyes with her palm. What an offer... To think a year ago she would never had even considered walking around with the old kook as a possible option, but.. She found herself looking forward to it. “I… I would love that.”

[Part 1 of ??? possibly 2??]

#this totally isn’t a vent piece for the nightmares i keep waking up from skdhkdbd #i’ll prolly write the second part. soon #my writing #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fic #pacifica northwest #gravity falls pacifica #fiddleford mcgucket #gravity falls mcgucket #found family #angst with a happy ending #comfort

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honeytae · 3 years

Text

“I want to spend forever being reckless like this with you.”

hi lovies! this is just about the reader and hobi dealing with the sadness that comes with the end of a little visit between tour dates...but of course hoseok (being the angel he is) wants to make their last day together a happy memory instead of a sad one. and yeah he’s just really sweet.... i really hope you all enjoy this little piece of fluffiness <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters genre: fluff

word count: 2.2k

Heaviness. That’s what you felt today.

Glancing out the hotel window, you sighed as you watched the cabs pass by on the street below you. Despite the desire to have one last good day here, you couldn’t help the reality setting in now that it was getting later in the day. You would be in one of those cars tomorrow. En route to the airport.

You awoke with a certain weariness this morning, knowing the dreaded end date of the visit you’d paid to your boyfriend was fast approaching. Hoseok sensed it, showing that he did without explicitly stating it as he ordered room service in an attempt to cheer you up with waffles and kisses.

But despite all his efforts, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d been punched in the gut, mind and body plagued by your inevitable and all too soon departure.

Your fingers pinched the fabric of the curtain as you listened to Hoseok enter the room behind you, flicking the bathroom light off before padding over to where you stood at the window, back to him as you stared down at the street below.

“I know you’re sad.” He mumbled into the side of your head, you instinctively sinking back into his chest as his hands locked around your waist.

“I’m okay-“

“You’re not, though.” He cut you off, “and that’s okay, I’m not either.” He added with a sigh, and despite you not being able to see the man, you could perfectly envision the pout on his lips as he spoke.

Wordlessly turning around in his hold, you instantly buried your face in his shirt, his hand coming up to stroke through the hair at the back of your head as he nuzzled his own face in your hair.

The beginnings of your visits while Hoseok was on tour were always your favorite part. Finally reuniting, feeling like you have all the time in the world to catch up with each other because, hey, you’re finally together again.

And then the middle of the trip comes, the ever-nearing end date forcing the mood to dampen just the slightest bit, the elated feeling of no upcoming departure fading with each night passing by into the next morning.

But the end; the end is the absolute worst. The only thing worse than the moment you have to walk out the door is the entire day before, the daunting idea of having to leave and be alone once again making the mood sad and gloomy as opposed to the ecstatic joy at the beginning.

And that’s exactly what had happened today, the big storm cloud of sadness hovering over the both of you as you pouted in your hotel room together. The other boys had kept their distance all morning, knowing how difficult it was for the both of you to depart each other and wanting to give you space and time to process.

Your flight home was early tomorrow morning, and Hoseok had a concert in another country in three days. He’d be flying out not long after you, and you’d be thousands of miles apart from each other once again.

“I love you so much.” He mumbled into your skin, squeezing you tighter to him as you said the words back to him.

“I didn’t want us to have any bad days on this trip.” You chuckled humorlessly, nuzzling further into the warmth Hoseok’s skin provided you with as he hummed in response.

“Let’s not have a bad day, then.” He pulled back from you with a smile, causing you to raise your eyebrows at his proposition, taking your hand in his and squeezing it affectionately.

“What do you mean?” You asked, letting your boyfriend lead you to the bed full of your folded clothes with the intention to pack most of them up only less than an hour ago.

“I mean,” he started, leaning over to the open suitcase with a grin as he grabbed your bathing suit, “we’re going to have a good last day together, angel.”

Giggling as Hoseok ran with you down the hall of the top floor of the hotel, you tried your hardest to keep up with his pace, your fingers locked around each other making the action only slightly easier as the colors of the carpet swirled below you through the speed of your motions.

The rush in getting to the elevators was entirely encouraged by the fact that you two were less than decently dressed in your bathing suits, running past others’ rooms with your fingers metaphorically crossed that nobody would venture outside.

Rounding the corner at the end of the corridor, Hoseok paused to give your legs a rest, finally safe from any prying eyes as you leaned side by side against the wall next to the elevators.

Haphazardly reaching over to the panel containing the up and down arrows, you tapped the top one indicating the roof, the button lighting up under your touch as the screen atop the doors let you know the elevator was on its way.

“Shit, we should’ve grabbed our robes.” You laughed breathlessly, Hoseok’s breathing similar to yours as he turned to you with a heart-shaped grin.

“Are you saying you’re not having fun?” He raised his eyebrows at you, you immediately smiling at his question.

You barely registered the dinging of the elevator doors as they slid open, instead glancing into the glittering brown orbs of your man as the corners of his eyes crinkled with the force of his smile.

“Definitely not.” You smiled, exhaling your last sigh as your breathing evened out, your boyfriend leading you out the elevator doors with a swing of your entwined arms between your bodies.

Miraculously, the rooftop pool was empty, providing you with some true quality time on your last beautiful summer morning together.

Finally reaching the door to the gate containing the pool, Hoseok held the key card in front of the the sensor, the lock immediately unlatching with a solid ‘click’ before he was pulling the door open for you.

“Fuck, we made it.” You exhaled, glancing behind you to make sure that nobody had in fact seen you,

After setting your towels and sunscreen down on the chairs set out beside the pool, you sighed, glancing out over the skyline before trading your gaze to your boyfriend’s face, his hands landing on your hips as he pulled your body flush to his.

“This is nice, right?” He smiled, you nodding with a content hum, admiring the man’s full cheeks from his smile.

“I think I’m going to miss this the most.” You commented, Hoseok’s eyes widening at the abrupt statement. His features softened at your words, fingers softly gliding against your hip in a reassuring gesture.

“What are you going to miss the most?” He asked, making you smile as you placed your hand on his chest. Your boyfriend obviously took it as a sweet gesture, a grin meeting his mouth as he raised his hand to support your jaw, you leaning into him with a sly smirk.

“This.” You whispered against his lips, applying pressure to his chest with your hand and affectively sending him backward into the pool water with flailing limbs. His scream ripped through the air, shortly followed by your laughter as he came back up to the surface with pure shock written on his face.

Doubling over at the expression, you put your hands on your knees as you tried to regain composure at your extremely gullible boyfriend. Finally catching your breath, you pouted at the bewildered man, ignoring the increase in speed of your heart as he swept his hair back from his forehead.

“W-what was that?” He sputtered, you shrugging as you sat down on the cement edge of the pool, nonchalantly dangling your legs into the cool water.

“I’m sorry Sunshine, you just make it so easy.” You chuckled, the man’s lips twisting into a frown as he swam over to you, kicking his legs behind him as he reached out for your ankles.

“That wasn’t nice.” He tutted, glancing up at you with a bit of mirth in his eye, thumbs swiping over your ankles as you hummed carelessly in response.

“I apologize for letting temptation get the best of me.”

You smiled as Hoseok scoffed at your smug words, the expression quickly dissolving as you yelped at your boyfriend suddenly tugging you by his grip on your lower legs into the water with him.

The water was cold, especially in comparison to the hot air outside with the sun baking down onto the rooftop of the hotel. You immediately understood why Hoseok had come up from the surface with that look on his face, coming up with a similar one of your own as you gasped at the temperature.

“Fuck, that’s cold.” You managed to get out, Hoseok humming cockily in response, nevertheless reaching out for you to hug your shivering body to his own’s accumulated warmth.

“I apologize for letting temptation get the best of me.” He repeated your earlier words with a smirk, the expression dissolving into a widened smile as you whined in complaint.

“Fine, you got your payback.” You poked at the rounded apple of his cheek, melting into the man’s embrace as he giddily smiled at you.

Sighing contentedly as you looped your arms around his neck, you smoothed your fingertips over the hair behind his ear, Hoseok leaning in to place his forehead on yours. The sheer intimacy of the moment had you melting internally, your heart more content than ever as you nuzzled the tip of your nose against his.

“Now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way,” he raised his eyebrows in amusement, “isn’t this nice?”

“It is.” You murmured, smiling against his lips when he pressed the plush skin to yours. Placing your hand on the back of his head, you encouraged him to repeat the action, feeling his mouth spread into a smile as he cupped your jaw in his hand to guide you back into a kiss.

“I want to spend forever being reckless like this with you.” You commented on your chaotic morning escapades, chuckles spilling out of his lips and vibrating yours with crinkled eyes.

“Will do.” He nodded, the small words simple yet broad with the deeper meaning they held within them. His softened tone had your heart soaring in an instant, opting to glance over at the view to hide your blush from the man. You could see that his eyes remained on you throughout your diversion to the morning sky, heating your cheeks up more before you turned back to him with a small smile.

“This is exactly what I envisioned our last day to be like.” You spoke softly, Hoseok shooting you a tight-lipped smile before sighing.

“This isn’t the last of our days together, baby.” He pointed out, giving an encouraging squeeze to your shoulder as he tipped his head at your morbid tone.

“I know that,” you smiled. You did. “How much longer?” You asked, Hoseok flicking his eyes up in thought, immediately knowing what you were referencing.

“Forty-four days. Forty-three tomorrow.”

“So forty-three days without each other. We’ve done nearly fifty already.”

You meant the statement as a positive thing, honestly. The frown twisting Hoseok’s lips was not your intention at all, your thumb soothing over the corner of his lip to soothe the expression away.

“I’ll try to get some time off, okay? I don’t want you to keep having to fly out like this and-”

Silencing the man’s worries with another kiss, swiping your thumb over the soft skin of his cheek as he let out a sigh against you.

“It’s fine, Sunshine. I’ll fly across the world if it means I get to spend a single day with you, alright? Don’t worry about that.” You hushed, the man raising his eyebrows at you knowingly, drawing a soft sigh from you.

“If I feel like I’m struggling then I won’t hesitate to tell you.” You said, Hoseok staring back into your eyes to try to read the emotions in them.

“You promise?” He breathed out, making you nod immediately as you caressed the hair at the nape of his neck.

“As long as you promise to keep me updated on your feelings as well.” You responded, the man nodding solemnly.

“I will.”

“I love you.” You reminded him, the man smiling a toothy grin at the words he’d never tire of hearing as he tucked needily grasped at your flesh.

“I love you more.” He grinned as you rolled your eyes, wiggling out of his hold as you braced yourself against the pool wall.

“Alright, superstar. First one to get to the other side buys the other dinner.” You challenged him, causing him to scoff but nevertheless get himself into position to launch across the pool.

“When have I ever let you buy me dinner?” He raised his eyebrows at you, you only waving him off as you lowered yourself into the water, beginning to pedal yourself across the expanse of the pool as he furrowed his brows after you.

“Hey, that’s cheating!”

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cherrynojutsu · 3 years

Text

Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.

It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out. And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief. A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.

Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 2/?: A Poetic Sort of Procrastination, Indeed

Sakura saunters home late in the evening, admiring the stars above her in a daze of spring air and clutching her tote bag to her shoulder as if her very life force is tethered to it.

In the flurry of emotion, she completely forgot about returning her library books, but she doesn’t give a damn.

She drudged through her entire pile of paperwork, though it was an almighty effort requiring every ounce of her discipline. Even after Sasuke left, she kept tearing up and just gawking at the impossibly beautiful gift he’s given her, affection requited bubbling up inside her ribcage and unleashed into the air she breathes like some sort of ambrosial perfume she can finally afford to bask in. She has always known there is a softer side to him, that there is much more beneath the surface than he lets on with his laconic demeanor, but this is something else.

It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out.

And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief.

A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.

She hangs her tote on its entryway hook and carefully removes the box inside once she reaches her apartment. After she’s padded her way to her bedroom, she flips on the two lamps before placing it tenderly on her bed.

Sakura briefly contemplates taking the lid off then and there, but she knows she really should shower first, because otherwise the evening is going to quickly spiral away from her, whirlpool of tender feelings that it already is.

It’s the quickest shower she’s ever taken in her life; berry-scented soap floods her body and seems to take forever to rinse clean in her haste, although it can’t actually be more than a minute or two in reality. It’s also the quickest she’s ever toweled off and changed into pajamas, scurrying back to her room and grabbing the first pair she lays eyes on from her dresser drawer.

Once she has shimmied them on, she opens the box again, and just looks.

It still exists - it doesn’t disappear or dissolve as a figment of her imagination - so she picks it up with careful hands.

It is so, so pretty, exquisite in a way that makes her heart hammer relentlessly against her sternum, a catharsis in her chest sweeter somehow than anything she’s ever experienced.

It’s unavoidable; her eyes well with tears again, because he said he had it made for her. Not found in an antique shop off the beaten path or some happenstance market who knows how many miles away. Not just something that reminded him of her.

Made for me.

Which means he thought of this himself. Silk that shifts colors like the Uchiha crest, fastidiously stitched petals, and a cherry blossom tree, carved light wood that is startlingly similar in tone to the accents here in her bedroom.

And the way he looked at her, after, a storm of silver and obsidian that took her breath away.

And he kissed her.

Sakura doesn’t know how she’s supposed to fall asleep tonight, deliriously happy as she is, or how she’s going to spend any of her free time from here on out not staring at this supernal treasure. She strokes the wood with careful fingers, bringing the carving upwards for closer inspection. Every inch of it is gorgeous; she is especially enamored with the pink and pearlescent stitching, coruscant in the low light. She assiduously counts the slivers of bamboo, too, and follows the rivulets of fine branches stretching upwards to the boundaries of the framework. Upon her inquest, she notices an impossibly tiny etching, faintly whittled on the interior of one of the slats of bamboo. Tai Ro, it says; she assumes that must be the craftsman’s signature. She wonders where it came from, which far-off land Sasuke traveled through to commission something so resplendent.

She has never seen anything so bewitching, except maybe silver flecks.

Tearing her gaze away from the fan, Sakura eyes the vanity by her balcony door, an idea brewing.

It’s an aged piece, of a bygone style featuring small drawers on each size and a sunken point in the middle, from which rises a large circular mirror. A framed copy of their original Team Seven portrait sits pushed against the framing, right in the center. She placed it there because she enjoys seeing it as she gets ready for the day. It’s a good memory, one of her favorites, sentimental in a way that makes her heart swell, after everything. A pale wooden hairbrush also sits perched atop its surface, given to her by her mother forever ago while she was still at the Academy.

“I found it in the market today, just after swinging by to pick up rose food from Ino’s mother. It’s old, an antique, but I think it suits you, my dear,” she’d said, ruffling her hair, still long at that point and chattering a mile a minute in the overbearing way she has always tended to. She’d brushed her already combed locks in the manner that Sakura thinks all mothers must with their daughters, even when they are starting to become too grown for that sort of thing. “What I wouldn’t give for your hair! So unique; you should have something lovely to brush it with. You’re already such a pretty girl, but someday you’re going to bloom, and when you do, heaven help the boys.”

There’s a cherry blossom on it, too, adorning the back simply with five perfect petals.

When Sakura moved out of her parents’ house, she chose the tones of her bedroom accents, inclusive of the frame, with it in mind; she’d been using it for years by then, and had developed a fondness for pale wood rooted in familial nostalgia. Most of her actual furniture in the room is secondhand, of an older variety and painted with a white stain to make them somewhat match - she prefers things with a little bit of history, has since her mom gifted her that hairbrush - but the few frames and wall-mounted shelves are lighter washes of wood.

Many of the surfaces in her apartment are cluttered with books and other knick knacks she has accumulated through the years, but she tries to keep the vanity’s top clear, almost like an altar, an ode to the things she finds lovely atop it to give her hope with which to greet the day.

Still clutching the gift tenderly in her hands, Sakura ventures over to it.

She holds the fan close to the frame as well as the brush, comparing the color, near an exact match, a fresh memory making her heart swell in a completely different way, a way she had previously thought was maybe unrealistic.

She’ll get a stand for it, she decides, and display it in the spot the frame currently sits; it would look perfect there, the curvature echoed above it in circular looking glass, a hairbrush of a similar stain beside it. Then she’ll be able to gaze at it every morning and evening. There is no way something this precious to her could ever be stored away in a box and only seen on special occasions; it’s the same reason she struggled with the idea of hiding his letters away in one.

No, Sakura is resolutely sure that admiring it will be a daily ritual.

She can relocate the photo frame to her bedside table, maybe, next to An Introduction to Electrocardiography , or perhaps to her living room, though it doesn’t really match the wood out there.

That gets her thinking. We’re... together now, right? He’s kissed her, and she really hopes he will again, surprisingly soft lips against hers, an aroma of woodsmoke, and butterflies unleashed in her stomach. Maybe she should put the frame on the shelf in the main room. He might come over, sometime; it would be good to have it visible, situated in a place where he can see it.

With the utmost care, she lays the fan on the surface in front of her. Sakura combs through wet locks, coaxing out tangles with an old gift and appreciating a new one with watery eyes. When she’s finished, she carefully clutches it again and admires it atop a lavender comforter for the better part of an hour, alternating between mentally mapping its fine stitching within the confines of her hippocampus and paging through her book of Sasuke’s letters in a way that is more than fond, affection freed from her chest after so very long. The jubilance crests to a sense of omneity as she does so, moon glow filtering in by way of the gauzy white curtains that shield the balcony’s glass door.

She absolutely can’t wait to see him tomorrow. She sincerely hopes she’s not dreaming all of this.

She is so enamored with it that she doesn’t even drink her customary evening tea, her being warmed in an entirely different manner she is as of yet unaccustomed to, better than earl grey or some variety of dessert. It’s immensely difficult to pry it from her own hands when the time comes to do so.

Always is the last word she thinks of before she succumbs to slumber, curled up in soft colors and hoping he has found somewhere comfortable to sleep. Treasured memories emanate from objects old and new, brewing together before a looking glass where she’s placed them for safekeeping and admiration.

XXX

When she awakens in the morning, Sakura jerks upright in bed, turning to her vanity to ascertain if it was all a dream, cozened in by her subconscious as she slept.

It wasn’t. The fan is still there, precious and so enchantingly beautiful, dawn flavoring the memory of Sasuke’s return just as sweet as it had tasted yesterday with his lips on hers.

She brushes her hair again, working at the task way longer than necessary and trying not to cry out of sheer happiness. She feels so light, as if being pulled upwards by a latterly existent force of gravity, theoretically possible in terms of relative physics and with the right circumstances, but never actually experienced.

Birds are singing on the balcony when Sakura finally steps outside, snacking on seeds from her bird feeder as she gives her fledgling plants a drink before leaving for work.

It is such a lovely morning.

XXX

Sakura makes it through work as if encapsulated in a brand of inertial navigation system, floating as if she’s a bizarrely sentient cloud from patients to test tubes. She feeds the mice and records the brief observations she usually does on Wednesdays, and then a Genin is being brought in with a linear fracture in their tibia, twisted wrong and impacted during training. She gives instructions to nurses, too, taking care of smaller tasks in between, part of her feeling like she is barely there.

Well, not barely. She still keeps her wits about her and heals people; she takes pride in what she does. She just… daydreams a little, too, sage, smoke, and silver occupying her spare moments, flitting in between the corridors of her head as she flits from exam room to exam room.

She’s sitting at her desk, eating an early dinner and working on a new pile of paperwork before her next appointment arrives at five thirty, when one of Naruto’s clones bangs on her window.

Her gaze shifts to the glass at the familiar boisterous whining of her name - “Sakura-chaaaaaaan!” - and she rises to open it the rest of the way, allowing him entry into her office, an easy grin coming to her lips.

“Naruto!” A million thoughts run through her head. He has to know Sasuke’s back at this point, right? Has he seen him? He must be so happy.

Cyan bores into her, and he grins as he steps down. “Sakura-chan, teme’s back! Can you believe it? Though I guess you knew since yesterday.”

Sakura’s cheeks warm at the implication of that, wondering how he knows this information, but her friend is plowing onwards.

“Anyways, wanna have an original Team Seven reunion dinner on Saturday night? Or maybe Sunday night? Kakashi-sensei said Saturday would be better for him, if it works for you. And we should also make it a housewarming party for teme, but Kakashi-sensei says DON’T tell him that, or he won’t agree! It’s a surprise.”

Laughter erupts from her chest, rich and joyful, because it is crystal clear in that moment that Naruto is as elated at Sasuke’s return as she is - okay, maybe not quite on the level that she is, but close - even through a clone. “Of course, we should! I don’t have anything planned for Saturday night.”

Her teammate grins, all infectious happiness in the way that is so utterly characteristic of him, eyes crinkling at their corners. “Good, great, awesome! Be sure to mention it to him when you see him at seven. I’m sure if you suggest it, he’ll definitely agree.” Sakura blinks in surprise, cheeks staining darker. “Man, this is gonna be so great! Team Seven is fucking back ! I can’t wait to get a mission! It’ll be just like old times. I gotta tell Hinata-chan, too!”

She can’t help it; she smiles so wide that it hurts her face, tears paying her another visit. Sasuke’s back. He’s really back. And-

“Well, anyways, I’ll leave you to eat your dinner, Sakura-chan, but we have to force him to be social. I can’t wait to spar! But also, we gotta have a picnic, and no tying me to the pole this time. We could even challenge Kakashi-sensei to get off his ass and give us another go at the bell test. And, and! We should have a movie night. And go drinking! I’ve never seen teme drunk. I bet he’s a lightweight, and he’ll probably say all sorts of embarrassing shit! And-” Naruto’s clone’s expression turns unexpectedly serious, blue eyes suddenly narrowing in a way that is all-seeing and a tan finger suddenly pointing at her accusingly.

“-I mean social outside of you and him, Sakura-chan! Don’t think for a second that you’re gonna escape my questions later, when my brain isn’t fried from staring at that stupid scroll Kakashi-sensei has me slaving over. I want answers. ”

And then Naruto’s clone disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving her blinking in a strange combination of bewilderment and somehow, shyness, too.

And ebullience. Mostly ebullience.

She stands there grinning like an idiot for a long time. She can’t wait to see him at seven.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like silver #fanfiction #labor day weekend = finishing things

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shtern-and-art · 3 years

Note

Alfhfkdpgn that comic gave me forest boys brain XD.

Skeppy makes Bad mad n after he's jus minding his business in the forest but he swears the animals are mocking him XD. He doesn't think much of it until he snaps his head round the next time he sees one and catches a dear on two legs imitating an exaggerated version of his walk, lmao.

Does Bad have a favourite animal in the forest? I was jus thinking about him being really fond of a little wolf cub n calling it Rat (hehe) and she keeps tormenting Skeppy whenever he's around.

This comic/story makes me so happy :D. When Bad and Skeppy become friends, do they pull kinder pranks on each other? I know Skeppy used to put up things that made Bad mad but does he change that after befriending him?

Ooooooo. Do they get each other gifts? Sorry for all the questions, it's just so much fun to think about!!! Loving everything about it so far!! <3

Aaaaah forest boys, yesyesss, that’s what they are :DDD And don’t worry, thank you for the questions! It’s so cool to see people are interested in this story! It’s me here who’s worried that my answers are always so long, cuz I like to talk about all of this too :D

Anyways! Animals definitely act up on Bad’s behalf, they respond to his mood, and he can even control their behavior a bit! So, yeah, Skeppy gets harassed by snappy birds and rude racoons if Bad is upset with him.

But, dang, the deer encounter straight up murdered me, I just had to do a little comic about it :D It’s about the pranks too, I'm gonna publish it a bit later!

Here's a sneak peek for now:

See under the cut for the stuff about Rat and the gifts!

__________

About Rat: she’s there, and even plot relevant! :D It’s good that you reminded me about it, I gotta add more about her the next story notes post.

To put it shortly – she is the previous “host” of the spirit of the forest! She was a normal wolf (a wolf puppy) many, many years ago, but becoming one with the will of this specific forest turns you color scheme white/black. So she was guarding this lands long before Bad came around. Due to this, Rat is smarter that a normal wolf, but she still is mostly an animal.

She somehow survived the Lead Up and The Incident, when the will of the Forest latched on Bad, and she’s still hanging around, watching over him from semi-distance. Also she can still shapeshift into various sizes and species, and has some other spn-traits and abilities she can use to torment Skeppy :D

Bad is not sure why she’s still around, not dissolved in the forest life, like she should’ve. And why she insistently keeps him company sometimes. Maybe, disappearing takes a long time? Maybe, she just got attached, because he helped her – small, weak, and awkward like a baby rat – after the whole forest spirit switching happened? Or there is something more to it? (there is something more to it, oh yesss :DDD)

__________

And oh, the gifts, yes, I thought about that! Both Bad and Skeppy are quite awkward with that at first, because, like, what can they even give each other, apart from the company? What do they have, that the other might want? They do lead quite different lives. But at the very core they’re still similar, and desire to share something, and brighten the others day in return is there. So, Bad shows Skeppy all the secret places in the forest – hidden springs, and little caves under tree roots, places people have trouble getting to, or maybe don’t even know about. At some point, Bad starts leaving Skeppy little pretty trinkets and lost jewelry he found – shiny and semi valuable things people lost in the woods over the years. Just like a crow :D

And Skeppy gathers the litter in the woods – broken glass from beer and vine bottles, little scraps of metal and rocks he found lying around… And makes improvised windchimes out of them, and hangs them near the clearings deep in the woods. They strum gentle melodies over the rustling of leaves, and reflect stray sun bunnies to the places where, usually, the light can barely reach. They remind Bad of Skeppy a lot.

It’s like a piece of him is always there, even if Skeppy himself is away in the town – working or hanging out.

After a while, the new rumors spread in the town. That sometimes, if you walk alone in the deeper parts of the forest, you might hear distant, beautiful melodies flowing with the gusts of wind; and see bright, impossible lights changing shapes, dancing between the trees. People who try following them inevitably get lost, of course.

With Skeppy around, and with him and Bad getting closer, the woods become weirder… in a scary way, yes. But in a beautiful, slightly melancholic way too.

Also Skeppy definitely buys Bad new cassettes and batteries for his music player :DD

---

In The Dark - masterpost

#mcyt fanart #mcyt #badboyhalo #skeppy #skephalo #In The Dark #i love this AU so much it's hard to stop talking about it #:DDDDD #it's nice to get the asks #not all the details will make it into the story notes posts #just cuz i gotta be weary of the word count #and how stuff will fit in a post #so answering stuff like this helps #to flesh everything out #and feel in the gaps #<3 #shtern talks

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moons-and-stars-and-shit · 3 years

Note

Hi! I saw your blog cause you reblogged one of my crack ideas on my hq account and I think it’s super cute! Is it possible I can request a cake? I’m curious to see who you’d put me with :)

I have no idea what I’m supposed to put in this, but! My name is Spencer (at least that’s the one I’m trying out rn, but it’s comfy I like it) and I use he/him pronouns. I’m 5’10ish & I currently have black hair that I dye from time to time (probably going to dye it red next). My hair is like...a little past the top of my ears, but it’s an undercut (think Kenma with black hair ig). I have really thin brown eyes (a lot of people think I’m Asian I’m not lol they’re just hooded). I’m not exactly built thin but that’s something I’m ✨insecure✨ about so we’re not gonna get into that lol

Personality wise,,,idk I’m 90% self-deprecating and the other 10% is sarcasm. I’d like to think I’m a pretty creative person although I’m extremely logical. Creativity is more for fun vs logical on a day-to-day basis if that makes sense?

I used to be really athletic but I started doing other things and since then that’s kinda dwindled away. However lately I’ve been trying to kick ✨depression✨ in the ass and get back into being athletic and stuff. I’m learning how to box and a few friends and I want to take up volleyball when it gets warmer. I used to be a soccer player though and I want to start doing that again, too.

A lot of people tell me I’m musically talented. I like to think I am on a good day, I guess (I’m bad about describing myself lol sorry). But I play a little piano and ukulele but I play guitar & sing mostly.

Even though I try not to be I’m super competitive and legit subconsciously turn everything into a competition, but I try to stay lighthearted about it. Even though I come off cold to people when I meet them (RBF + introvert yikes) I really care about my friends and wear my heart on my sleeve even though I try not to show it.

Quick stuff if this isn’t too long already?

Zodiac: Sun-Leo Moon-Virgo Rising-Cancer

MBTI: INPT-T

Asked my friends what colors they’d describe me with & made this:

Favorite anime is either the disastrous life of saiki k or haikyuu!! (leaning towards hq tho)

I don’t have a favorite color but I wear a lot of red and black

Punk/slightly alt style with a lot of graphic tshirts? That’s basically my style

And yeah! I’m sorry if this is really long lol I tend to ramble when I don’t know what to say heh

Spence back again 😅😅 I forgot to attach the pretty color thing my friend told me to make

@spence0112

Hahaaaaaaaa 😅 sorry for the wait but thank you for your patience 😭

Romantic Matchup

Tendou Satori

How Y’all Met

Ight kinda embarrassing

But y’all Met in therapy 🤠

Yup

Group therapy

Legit every time he heard you talk

He was like:

Mood

Felt that

Relatable

So after group he went up to you and was just like

“Hey if you ever need to talk to someone I’m always available!”

And he gave you his digits 😗

Ok fast forward a bit

You we’re having a REALLY bad day

Like the depression was kicking tour ass

And you don’t know why

But you called our boy Tendou

Oop homeboy ZOOMED over to you

He was like do you wanna talk about it

And you said no, you just needed something to take your mind off of your ✨depressive state✨

He remembered you saying something about wanting to learn volleyball

And it was the end of the day... 👀

So he took you to practice with him

It was actually super fun!

He taught you all sorts of moves

And you we’re really impressed by his guest blocking

By the end of practice you felt a lot better

And you actually decided to join the volleyball team

Tendou was super excited to have you as his teammate!

Y’all started to hang out CONSTANTLY

You guys were just super close

So no one was really shocked when you two started dating 👀

They were expecting it actually...

What They Love About You

He loves that he can relate to you

And vice versa

Y’all truly just understand each other

He loves that your willing to battle your depression

It honestly inspires him to kick the rest of his depression in the ass

He loves your style!

He would wear jeans and a t shirt every day if he could

Matching t-shirts 👀 👀 👀

He loves how naturaly caring you are

He can see past the rbf so don’t worry about that

But the fact that you treat people with care and kindness is a plus for him

Favorite Things To Do Together

Ok this could go two ways

Option A is the definition of crackhead things

A lot of midnight shopping trips

A lot of gas station hauls

You get the gist

Or there’s option B

Which Is very chill 🙂

He likes to just stay in and watch anime or read manga with you

So whatever’s more your vibe

But he likes doing both 👀

Random Hc

His favorite anime is Saiki K as well 😗

So that’s the show you two always watch together

You two

Do in fact

Have matching t-shirts

Ahhhh so cute

You guys told your therapy group you were dating 😭

They were surprisingly supportive 👀

Astrology

When Taurus and Leo come together in a love affair, they can be a great couple because they know how to stroke one another’s egos and love to have their own stroked!

They have similar needs: Taurus needs plenty of affection, to be loved and cherished, while Leo likes compliments and wants to be adored and admired.

They’re both extremely loyal and possessive lovers.

Since they have such similar desires, they can generally provide for one another’s needs quite well.

These two Signs both love status and possessions.

They prize physical comfort and luxury; Leo is often flamboyant about attentions and gift-giving, which will greatly please Taurus, who loves the most traditional forms of courtship.

Though they can work together quite well, it’s not all roses between these two; both Signs are very stubborn and must work hard to understand and accept one another.

Overall Aesthetic

2000 Retro

Out of my league - Fitz and the tantrums

Dissolve - Absofacto

Boyfriend - Coin

Wait a minute- Willow

I’m sorry this is just to cute not to add 😭

(NOT MY ART)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu matchups #tendou #tendou satori #tendou x reader #tendou x y/n

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happyandticklish · 3 years

Text

Don’t Ignore Me

Notes: For the ask by @dirtpie39, based off this comic.

Summary: Izaya’s been avoiding Shizuo ever since the blond made a certain discovery about him, and chaos quickly ensues.

Izaya was ignoring him.

It took Shizuo a couple fight-free days for him to realize it. After all, it wasn’t exactly like he was tracking the flea’s movements. Still, the city was small and drama was big, so it wasn’t unusual for the two to run into each other on a near daily basis. Usually this resulted in a full-blown fight or at the very least a round of petty insults and jabs. Now, though, whenever the two of them ran into each other, Izaya’s eyes would widen and he would bolt like a spooked deer.

For some reason, that pissed Shizuo off. Admittedly, most things pissed Shizuo off, but this especially. It wasn’t that he wanted the other to be constantly picking fights with him, but there was something comforting about the consistency of it. Now everything felt off-kilter, his days going by one after the other with not a grievance in sight.

He already had a pretty good idea why the other didn’t want to face him, too. The memory swirled in his mind, crystal clear despite a week having passed since then. He had been chasing Izaya as per usual (it was difficult to remember what specifically had pissed him off that day but he was sure he must have had a justified cause), when suddenly Izaya tripped on the pavement. Shizuo took the oppurtunity to grab him, but the second his hands made contact with his sides the other had let out an uncharacteristic squeak. Shizuo had been so shocked that he accidentally let the other get away.

Evidently, Izaya’s strategy was to simply avoid him until he forget all about the events of that day. Fat chance of that. The noise he had made then was already locked in Shizuo’s mind, the precursor to a round of new discoveries. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten a chance to see the other face to face since then and Shizuo was growing tired of it.

The next time he saw Izaya, he was turning a corner and nearly bumped into him. Their eyes locked. Izaya bolted. Unlike every other time, however, Shizuo grabbed the other’s wrist before he could scurry into a passing cab.

“Hey,” he growled, whirling Izaya around to face him. “What’s the big idea?”

Upon being faced with an angry Shizuo, Izaya’s first response was a dazzling grin and a noncommittal shrug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s not illegal to take a taxi, now, is it?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” Shizuo insisted. He dragged the other towards an abandoned alleyway, a move that would have made most people nervous, but Izaya’s nerves were for an entirely different reason. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

Izaya stiffened, shifting his gaze to the left of him. “I’ve hardly been avoiding you. We’re not exactly friends, you know. How could I possibly ignore someone I have no social obligation to?”

“You show up in Ikebukuro, my city, you cause chaos and disruption everywhere you go, you deliberately mess with the lives of everyone you meet, and somehow you drag me into every shitty situation you create.” Shizuo ticked each issue off on one hand. “So I think I have a right to be a bit confused when you suddenly start acting like I don’t exist.”

“Do you want me to ruin your life?” Izaya asked irritably. “You never seemed all that pleased about it before.”

“I want to know why you can’t look me in the eyes right now,” Shizuo corrected. “I’m giving you the chance to tell me, but I can take a guess if you’d like.”

Shizuo heard Izaya’s audible intake of breath. He tugged on his wrist but Shizuo’s grip was firm. His voice was tense as he answered, “Would you like to inform me then, if you’re so sure of the reason for my supposed avoidance?”

“I think,” Shizuo said, quickly snatching up the other wrist before Izaya could do anything and pulling both arms above his head and against the brick wall. “That you don’t want me to take advantage of a certain discovery I made last week.”

Izaya shrunk back instinctively against the wall as Shizuo transferred his hold to just one hand. He held his chin high with fake confidence as he asked, “Oh? And just what discovery was that?”

“That you—” Shizuo poked a finger suddenly into his ribs, causing the other to jump involuntarily—“are ticklish.”

Slowly, a flush began to overtake Izaya’s features, his ears glowing a bright crimson. Izaya glanced away, trying to cover up his obvious embarrassment with nonchalance. “Really Shizu-chan? What are we, children?”

“You’re not denying it,” Shizuo pointed out, taking a finger and gently dragging it up the length of his side. “Are you ticklish, I-za-ya?”

Izaya’s breath hitched at the drawn-out syllables, trying desperately not to squirm under his touch. “O-Of course I’m not ticklish. That would be ridiculous.”

“It would be,” Shizuo agreed, not letting up but not growing any more aggressive than his current pace. Just the slow, dragging pressure of his finger, skimming over the thin material of his shirt. “I mean, the famed info broker, one of the most dangerous men in all of Ikebukuro, ticklish? Almost enough to make you laugh.”

Izaya was trying his hardest to do the exact opposite of that. “R-Right. So there’s really no need for you to—ah!”

He bit his lip as fingers curled softly at the edge of his underarms. “I wonder what would happen,” Shizuo mused, tapping a rhythm against his skin. “If I tickled you ever so slowly…right…here...?” As he spoke, he wiggled fingers into the sensitive hollow, Izaya’s shirt doing very little to protect him. “What would you do, hmm?”

To be fair to him, Izaya really did try his hardest not to give in. He squeezed his eyes shut, tensing every muscle in his body in an attempt to hide how much the other was getting to him. In the end though, the soft persistence of it all was too much for him and he broke, musical giggles spilling from his lips.

“S-Shihihizuo!” he protested, writhing under his touch. “C-C’mohohon!”

Shizuo’s heart melted at the sight. Originally, his plan had been to come in and destroy Izaya with his newfound information, but now…. Looking at him now, flushed and giggling under such a gentle touch, Shizuo found that the only word he could describe him with was pretty. Though the thought was strange when applied to Izaya, his enemy, his nemesis, a man he had despised since the early days of high school, he found that he didn’t care in that moment.

So instead of digging in, Shizuo continued to administer the light touches currently driving Izaya up the wall and producing those heart stopping giggles that Shizuo was quickly becoming addicted to. “What’s wrong? Does it tickle?”

“F-Fuhuhuhuck yohou!” Izaya spat, the venom stripped from his words when matched with the stupid grin on his face. “A-Ahahaha, nohoho! Pffft, shihihihit!”

His legs gave out when Shizuo moved down suddenly, the feather-like touch dancing all over his hips. Shizuo swept a knee under him, his presence now the only thing keeping Izaya from collapsing on the ground. “You know, I think I enjoy you like this—all helpless and laughing. Maybe I’ll have to do this again whenever you decide to cause trouble in the city.”

Izaya’s eyes widened. Being held down and tickled like this daily was a thought that sent butterflies aflutter in his stomach. His struggling increased and he squeezed his eyes shut to try to distract himself from the situation. “Stahahahap ihihihit, yohohou bruhuhute! J-Juhuhust Nahahahat thehehere!”

“Not here?” Shizuo questioned innocently, continuing to torment his hips. “Why? Is it a bad spot?”

“Yehehes—Ihihihi mehehehean nohoho—I mehehehean—shihihihit!”

“I’ll take that as a yes then.”

For the next couple of minutes Shizuo persisted with his gentle assault on his nerves, driving Izaya out of his mind with the overload of sensation. It took a while for Izaya to genuinely plead, as he continued to insult and jab at him all the while until Shizuo discovered that fluttering fingers under his chin made him positively shriek and the man’s sanity quickly dissolved from there.

“Ohohohokay, ohohohohokay, I’m tihihicklish, n-now stahahahap!” Izaya scrunched up his shoulders, frantically trying to catch the other man’s hands between them. “Plehehease!”

Shizuo did stop, eventually. What he did next, however, was lean down and quickly press his lips against the other’s, claiming his leftover giggles in his mouth. He couldn’t have said what possessed him to do it, only that when Izaya had uttered “Please” through laughter-filled lips he found that there was nothing else he could have done. The kiss lasted for a mere two seconds before he realized what he was doing and quickly stepped back, releasing the other.

Izaya was staring at him wide-eyed as he slowly regained his footing. Shizuo’s hand covered his mouth, his fingers brushing against the place on his mouth where Izaya’s lips had just been. A similar red hue colored both their faces as they each tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened.

“Shizu-chan—” Izaya started, narrowing his eyes, but the sound of the familiar nickname was too much and Shizuo quickly fled before the other could get a chance to ask him any questions. Heart racing, the bartender quickly returned home and tried to figure out what had prompted him to kiss the flea and why he sort of wanted to try it again.

That week, it was Shizuo’s turn to avoid him.

#tickle fic #shizaya #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #tickling #fanfic #fanfiction #fic request #requests #durarara #durarara!!

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secret-engima · 3 years

Note

This. Has been a perfectly terrible day. Can I beg you for a ficbit or a snippet from one of your works, like Team Gremlin or Noctscar or something ? I just - they’re beautiful, and I just really, really need something beautiful right now.

SURE. I don’t have much in the way of snippets, but lemme see what I can find. I might have to throw in something from BNHA cause that’s the fandom the muses are chewing on this exact second.

...

Team Gremlin:

It had been … a very bad few weeks for Qrow all told. And that was saying something. Everything had seemed fine one day, business as usual. Tai was back from his requisite number of missions to keep his license and teaching at Signal again —which he genuinely seemed to enjoy for some reason—, his nieces were as adorable as ever, and Summer was sometimes talking his ear off about maybe taking a teaching position somewhere herself after running a few missions to keep her own license active —she’d been busier lately with the girls than running around kicking butt, but it wasn’t like Qrow blamed her for that—.

Then Leo was found dead in his office. Knifed in the neck, one round discharged from his weapon in the direction of the guest couch, blood pooling all over the chair and low table where the investigators said he’d been dragged from and laid on the floor in some kind of pose. No one unusual had been seen going in or out, there had been nothing on the office cameras —covered by a Semblance of some kind, it was decided, because of the fading, glass-like Aura shards on the floor—. The only warning had been the sound of Leo’s single shot before he died. Qrow had arrived as soon as he could to help investigate, since the primary suspect would … not be one the police even knew to look for. He had helped Dyna —poor woman had been wire tense with rage rather than her usual calm self, and it was no wonder—, search for clues the police would miss, then searched the secret tunnels for good measure.

They had found a Grimm inside one of the deeper antechambers, far too deep to have gotten there by accident, a strange, jellyfish like beast that had been surprisingly hard to kill for something that small. They’d never seen it’s like before, and the thought of it being under the school, where kids were, where Oz and his inner circle were supposed to hold sway-. He’d never seen the otter Faunus more furious as they stood amid the fading Dark dust, her lips twisted, brow wrinkled in a way that had made the black line and red dots of her old bandit tattoos look more pronounced.

They’d found no other signs that Salem knew how to get into the school tunnels, but they rechecked them all and trapped several of the ones leading outward as temporary security measures. With Dyna in place as the new —temporary on paper but soon to be permanent— Headmaster, Qrow had gathered up what evidence they could pry loose from their police contacts and gone back to Oz so they could try to sort this out.

Of course, Qrow’s first impulse was to blame Salem, but Oz had listened to the report of a jellyfish Grimm under the school and his expression had folded into something pained. Knowing. He must have known what kind of Grimm it was, but hadn’t elaborated yet, just told Dyna to investigate all of Leo’s documents, Scroll calls, and communications over the past year, and insisted he would not explain until there was either evidence or not for his theory, for fear of making them biased.

So, with Salem seemingly not the automatic culprit, they had started hunting for info. Summer had offered to come back and help, but Oz had told her to stay on her chosen mission instead.

The pen had been an unexpected complication.

...

Always I Dreamed verse

Summer ducked past her into the shower as Raven left it, pausing to stare at Raven’s tattoos for only a moment before chirping a quiet good morning and asking if she was okay after yesterday. Raven just grunted, because she was combat functional and frankly that was all that mattered. She had already pulled on her clothes from yesterday —all their possessions were in her inventory and she didn’t want questions on where it came from, she’d have to stuff it all in a duffel bag and hide it in the den to explain that away later— by the time Taiyang got up and Raven remembered the uniforms. Raven nudged open the bag while Qrow ducked out of their den and peered over her shoulder, “Everybody has to wear that stuff?” Qrow sneered as Raven pulled out the first button down shirt, “Hardly looks sturdy.”

“It’s just for the school grounds I think, we have our combat gear for training missions and stuff anyway.” Taiyang said as he pulled out a shirt of his own from a different bag. Raven took a moment to glance at his bare torso. He slept in pants but not a shirt apparently, which was stupid, but better than being entirely naked at night. He had a decent build, which she knew from watching him fight yesterday, and a truly appalling lack of scars. Her life had been saved by somebody who had probably never had a truly decent fight in his life before that day. Wonderful.

He also had tattoos, and Raven squinted at them for a moment because despite the differing size and placement, they all looked very much like the ones Raven and Qrow had gotten during a rare moment of total drunkenness at fifteen. He was missing the large asian dragon outline that wound up Raven’s own torso, but he had the blue crow perched as if about to take flight that Raven had, the running blue wolf who’s lower half dissolved into petals, and she thought she glimpsed a blue clockwork rabbit under his right arm. When he turned around briefly to put his back to them, she saw that most of his back had been taken up with the stylized outline of a raven in flight.

She shook her head and looked away. Whatever. Summer possessed a tattoo on her arm similar to the asian dragon winding up Qrow’s arm from elbow to shoulder. Some tattoos were just popular, and blue ink was easier to come by for fill-in tattoos than the black used for outlines.

Qrow must have remembered Taiyang’s words last night about Raven’s uniform being at the top, because he was already rooting down to the outfit right beneath hers —there was more fabric in the bag than that, but Raven wasn’t going to worry about why just yet—. He yanked out a shirt and jacket that looked his size, then blinked when something short and plaid tumbled out with it. Snatching it up, he unfolded it and made a face, “Is this a skirt? With my uniform?”

Summer poked her head out of the bathroom, a wash of steam following her —oh right, hot water showers were a thing, darn— while Taiyang looked from Qrow to the skirt and back. Qrow was busy staring at the skirt, so he missed the expression of pure glee that flickered over the other teen’s face before he casually said, “What, that? It’s a kilt, man. Old Vale tradition.” Raven blinked very slowly, because that was a surprisingly good lie even though she knew it was nonsense —her memory on early canon was fuzzy, but she would have remembered the male characters running around in skirts—. She debated calling him on it for a moment, but she was from outside the kingdoms like Qrow, so technically she had no way to know that Taiyang was lying.

Besides, if Taiyang wanted to poke the bear that was her brother’s temper, better he do it now and get it over with than later when they were training.

Qrow was still making annoyed noises under his breath as he examined the “kilt”, and a glance at Summer slipping out of the shower in a towel showed she was fighting down laughter. Silver eyes met Raven’s with hopeful amusement and Raven looked away. She was still angry that the Story had forced itself into place in her life. With a shake of her head, Raven finished yanking out her uniform —one of? There was so much fabric in there, did the school really waste money making multiple outfits for each student?— and started pulling off her old clothes to put it on. Taiyang made a noise like someone had knifed him just as she dropped her shirt to the floor and she looked up in alarm. Taiyang had whipped around to put his back to her, and she could see the flush of color crawling up his neck and the backs of his ears. He didn’t look hurt or anything, but when Summer wandered in and dropped her towel onto her bed to put on her uniform —huh, she had the same tattoos as Raven, Qrow, and Taiyang, just with the perched crow as a large outline that went down to her mid back and a large blue raven in flight over her abdomen that looked like the smaller one on Qrow’s back—, Taiyang made the dying noise again, snatched up his bag of clothes, and rushed for the bathroom.

Raven had the feeling she should understand what that was about, but she didn’t get it, and when she risked a glance at Summer, the other girl actually looked just as baffled. So maybe it wasn’t some social thing she’d forgotten. Maybe it was just a thing with him specifically.

...

Feather-Light and Fire-Bright verse (BNHA)

Which was why, the next time she spotted a little red feather slinking over to place a trio of shiny buttons on the park bench she liked best, she hastily caught it with one hand. It was very soft, wiggling slightly in her grip, twitching and fluttering almost like a frightened living thing, so much so she shushed it gently on instinct, “It’s okay, I won’t damage you.” Taking out the note she’d spent days agonizing over, she skewered it to the quill of the feather, “I need you to take a message to whoever controls you.” She let it go and the feather wiggled erratically in the air, like a cat trying to wiggle free of an unfamiliar collar before flitting away. Fuyumi resisted the urge to chase it and see where it led. She’d sent her note, now she would wait for a reaction.

She absently took the three coat buttons and put them in her pocket before going home. It would be stupid to leave them as litter in the park, but it also felt like a bad idea to throw them away and possibly anger whoever was watching her. Besides, she had a collection going now, she almost had enough matching buttons to make a full set for a long coat.

A week went by with no sign of her shadow before she finally spotted a red feather again. It lurked on the edges of the park, flitting out into view as she walked by before slipping off in the direction of a more sequestered part of the park. Fuyumi hesitated, saw the feather come back and swirl around her a few times like an excited puppy before rushing off again and decided she was either about to meet someone shy or about to be kidnapped and potentially murdered. Slipping her hand into her handbag to grip the small pro-grade taser inside just in case, Fuyumi followed the feather into the copse of trees that shielded that part of the park from the street and the rest of the grassy area.

The feather slipped away to rejoin … a lot of other feathers, and Fuyumi paused on the edges of the little forested nook to get a good look at her mysterious shadow for the first time. Golden eyes, piercing and almost predatory in intensity, flitted up to meet her gaze as he stood up. He was about her age she would guess, maybe a year older, so lean that if she hadn’t been able to see the muscles of his bare arms she would have called him scrawny. He was wearing a sleeveless hoodie that looked like it had lost a few too many rounds with a washing machine, clean but all faded and stretched and worn looking. His hair was all tousled and pale gold, and the red feathers were clustered on his back in huge wings that looked like they belonged on someone about twice his size and weight. He smiled a little, a practiced thing that was too nervous to be real, but if Fuyumi hadn’t lived her entire life around Pro Heroes and the children of other such elites, she would never had known.

He held up her note between too fingers, not commenting on the wary distance still between them nor making any moves to close it, “Um, I’m not a stalker, just wanna get that out of the way. Sorry if I … came off that way? I’m, uh, not good at introducing myself and I didn’t … really know what else to do.”

#SE asks #hamelin-born asks #snippets #snippet #Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #Team Gremlin verse #Always I Dreamed verse #Feather Light and Ember Bright verse

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otome-on-the-side · 4 years

Text

What’s Your Deal, Solomon?

Solomon & GN! reader

fluff

word count: 1,364

Ao3 version

MC & Solomon talk over drinks they shouldn’t, technically, have ______________________________________________________________

Adjusting to your new living conditions took time. You were more than a little disappointed when you learned that alcohol wasn’t allowed in the house of lamentation. “Wasn’t allowed,” meaning Lucifer immediately shot down the suggestion when you proposed it, threatening to provide something with an alcohol percentage high enough to dissolve your frail, human skin if you insisted.

You knew the brothers got drunk off of something, but they did it well away from the eldest’s supervision. You didn’t really want to ask them what they drank, or to hook you up- getting mocked or, worse, dragged to a bar and left alone in the devildom, wasn’t all that appealing to you. With the implication that booze wasn’t smiled upon in the dorms, your eyes nearly popped out of your skull when you witnessed your fellow human exchange student discreetly sipping out of a flask. It was the end of the day, so couldn’t really judge him for imbibing.

Solomon caught you staring and smiled, putting a finger over his lips. Panicking, you copy the gesture, trying to silently convey that you won’t snitch on him. At this, his smile deepens, and he opens his D.D.D. Your pocket buzzes, and you pull out your own device to see that he’s texting you.

‘I’m assuming you can keep a secret?’

And with that, you arrange to “study” at the purgatory hall with your “close friend” Solomon. Lucifer was less than pleased to hear this, and was reluctant to drop you off. You weren’t thrilled to take the equivalent of the demon fuzz to your ‘illegal’ hooch rendezvous either, but safety prevailed over a possibly disappointed and huffy Lucifer. It wasn’t your fault Mammon had work that evening. But you had planned for this meeting with that in mind. Witnessing the awkward standoff between Simeon and the avatar of pride at the purgatory hall’s front door almost made it worth it. There was something deeply amusing about an angel delighted with Lucifer’s presence, while the demon seemed like he couldn’t leave (politely, these exchanges were always frigidly polite) fast enough.

You try to tamp down the amused grin on your face as you slip past the two, Lucifer calling after you to inform you that Mammon will be picking you up after he’s done working. You don’t even turn to respond as you wave behind you, wordlessly signaling that you’ve heard him and ushering him to leave as you disappear from sight.

You’re overjoyed to easily find Solomon in the front hall, waiting for you. “Any trouble getting here?” He asks politely, making small talk as he leads you further into the dorm. You answer with no, that you had no trouble and you both continue with your polite chatter as you enter his room. It’s pretty similar to your own, though the color scheme is wildly different, the lighting is dimmer, and with a sturdy desk over the table you have; clearly meant for a single person to study at. Solomon opens a drawer from the desk and pulls out a bottle of Amber liquid, and glasses from within a cabinet. “Whiskey?” You ask.

“Rum, actually. I do have some Whisky if you prefer, but��” He trails off, his smile, while still polite, is knowing.

“Rum’s good.” You affirm. “I don’t think I have the refined palette for casual Whiskey drinking, if I’m honest.”

“I only really use it when I need to trade favors, if I’m honest,” he speaks as he pours your glass. When he hands you your glass, he remains standing. You politely remain standing as well, chatting with him as time passes, going through a couple glasses. As he goes to pour you a third, he seems to notice you awkwardly shifting your weight from foot to foot- you’ve begun to tire, your drunken state becoming obvious. He pulls one of his more cozy chairs towards the desk after he hands back your glass. You only sit after he does, placing your glass on the desk next to his own. “So,” you settle down on the seat Solomon has offered. “What’s your, like, deal?”

He can’t help chuckling in response. “My, like, deal?” He asks, incredulous. “Yeah!” You rock back, bringing your knees up and planting your heels into the seat cushion, promptly spreading your legs and wresting your elbows on your knees as you lean forward again. “Are you, like, THE Solomon the wise, or just some yutz using the name?” His eyes are glittering with amusement, but he doesn’t respond; his answer is a grin over the rim of his glass before he takes a sip of his “illegal” wares.

“Names have power, you know.” You warn.

He doesn’t stop smiling- if anything, he looks even more pleased. “I know.”

You give him a hard look, thoroughly sloshed. “So.”

“Mm?”

“Have you been body hopping then?”

He pauses mid-sip at that. He puts his glass down, eyes widening a fraction as you go on.

“ ‘Cuz like. You are waaaay too pale and snowy lookin’ to be from the Middle East as you are.”

“That’s all?”

“Well,” you pause to take a sip of hooch, throat dry from your drunken chatter. “You’re so cold, Solomon.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You don’t notice as you ramble on. “It’s not just from wonky blood circulation either, ‘cause your entire body radiates a lack of heat.”

“When did you notice this?”

“Crashing into you was like, walking into a fridge but like. Meaty, I guess?” You pause, trying to think of a better description, and your drunken mind knows there’s a better one, but gives up under the alcoholic haze. “An’ like. You’ve been drinking since before I got here.”

“I could just be very good at seeming sober.” He posits.

“Nah!” You chuck something small from your pocket- a single grimm- in his direction, with the intention for him to catch it.

That coin does not fly anywhere remotely near Solomon, and clatters against a wall. You point at him. “Pretend you caught that.”

He laughs again. “No, I don’t think I will. So, any more evidence for your accusation?”

“Mm!” You slap the desk table, getting your train of thought back on track. “You have like, over ninety demonic pacts, and. Both the demons who really care about my safety are wary of you.”

“It’s not just them,” he posits.

“You’ve gotta know some demon magic.”

“More than some.” For Solomon, he’s dropping an insane amount of details- but you’re too far gone to care. Solomon knows this, enjoying the wiggle room it’s giving him.

“And if I’m honest? I don’t like the idea of it simply bleaching you and sand blasting your possible wrinkles away. Seems too easy for magic. The themes of immortality AND using magic to solve your problems is too prevalent in any folklore or mythology for it to NOT have an obnoxious cost.”

“I’m shocked you would imply that the use of a corpse would merely be ‘obnoxious’,” he’s trying to seem incredulous, but he can’t hide how his voice hitches as he barely holds in another laugh.

You don’t notice, but you’re too sure of yourself to back down from your hypothesis. “It’s not like finding a body is hard when you’re a king. Or in possession of demon pacts. And it’s not like it’d be hard to find someone in a coma or suicidal enough to give up their body, these days.”

“Touché.” He sips at his drink again.

“I know what you are.”

“Say it.” Even you can tell he’s barely holding in laughter.

“Yourra lich.” You slur out.

You’re both losing your collective shit, feeding off of each other’s laughter at the stupid joke when Simeon pokes his head into the common room, calling your name. “Mammon’s come to pick you up.”

You clap with joy and swing out of the chair; happy to see your first. You don’t really care if he sees you like this, and you doubt he could criticize you for cutting a little loose.

“Good luck.” Solomon says, as way of a farewell. “You too!” You enthusiastically reply. “Have a good night!” “You too.” His response is soft, spoken only after you've turned your back.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me solomon #obey me fanfic #lucifer and simemon are here too #theyre just so minor im not putting their full character tags #mammon is also mentioned #I feel like this barely counts as fluff but solomons feeling Emotions by the end so #text #SO MUCH text #long post #alcohol tw #solomon is a booze wizard and you cant convince me otherwise #reader is GN but definitely gay #reader is a little bit of a light weight #i think #had this conversation in my head for montHS

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quarantineddreamer · 3 years

Text

If the World Was Ending

I reached 500 followers today!!! 🤯 To celebrate here’s a one-shot I recently wrote inspired by the song If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels. It’s a Zutara song if I ever heard one -I simply could not get the idea out of my head to write a little something on it. Hope you enjoy, thank you so much for being here💙 (and if you’re not here for the Zutara, let me know what content you’re looking for and maybe I can rustle something up ✨).

P.S. There should also be another chapter of Element of Change posted this weekend!!! --- Best wishes, B

The sun was rising over the Fire Nation capital, its light gradually gracing slanted rooftops, empty streets, and the face of the newly crowned Fire Lord.

Zuko breathed in the cool air of a new day and exhaled the stress of yet another night of meetings and paperwork. He set his hands on the stone of the balcony railing and surveyed the tranquil scene, still not quite able to believe it.

“How are you feeling, Fire Lord Zuko?” a voice called teasingly from behind him.

Just as the dawn warmed the land before him, so too, did the sound stir a similar reaction in his chest. As Katara came to stand beside him he turned to greet her with a weary smile. “I’m surprised to see you up,” he commented, well aware of her nocturnal propensities.

She shrugged in reply. “Lots to do before we leave tomorrow. Including,” she bumped her shoulder against his playfully, “checking in on my patient. How are you feeling?”

“I’m exhausted,” he admitted, “but that has nothing to do with my injury.”

Katara frowned. “You should really be taking it easy. Getting lots of rest.”

“I can’t. Not yet. There’s too much to be done. Too many things that need to be set right.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that... Will you still have time to come to our farewell gathering later today?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Zuko promised. He gestured to the room behind them. “Uncle has already set his tsungi horn inside and picked out the finest tea to serve.”

Her eyes crinkled in amusement as she laughed. “It’ll be nice to have some time, just us, to say good-bye…”

He knew what she meant, but he silently corrected her in his head anyways: not just us… The others would be there too. It wasn’t that Zuko didn’t want to see them, but it was dawning on him that this might be his last real moment alone with Katara before she returned to the Southern Water Tribe. And who knows when I’ll see her again… His weariness dissolved rapidly, the heaviness in his body replaced by apprehension that ran up and down his spine and tied knots in his stomach.

“Hellooooo, Zuko?” Katara waved a hand in front of his face and his attention returned to the present --though his heart still sank at the thought that tomorrow she would be waving at him for a different reason.

I thought I had more time… “I just --I can’t believe you leave tomorrow…”

The same melancholy that crept into his tone found its way to her words too as she said, “I can’t either…”

They stood in a heavy silence, listening to the faint echoes of a city coming to life below them, attempting to savor a bit of the peace they had fought so hard for. Zuko found it was more difficult than it had been a few moments ago. The weight of her impending departure was impossible to deny and the once dreamy picture of the city before him now seemed incomplete.

“I should get going…” Katara murmured, her eyes tracing the path of a bird in flight overhead.

‘No, you shouldn’t. Please don’t.’ Zuko wanted to say. His heart seemed to chant with each beat: Now or never, now or never, now or never…

He reached for her hand, then stared at it for a moment in surprise, unused to the impulsiveness he suddenly found guiding him --but what else was there to do when it felt there was no time left to waste? She was going to sail away... He couldn’t let her go without her knowing.

Katara carefully intertwined her fingers with his own. Her gaze lingered there before she lifted her head. There was longing in her expression and pain too. “Zuko…”

“Wait,” he said in a strained voice. “Just wait… Don’t. Don’t say it.” Because it felt like she had been about to say good-bye and he didn’t want that. He wanted… he wanted…

He wanted to kiss her, had wanted to for a while, but the moment had never seemed right, he had always let the inclination pass. They had just ended a war. He had nearly died. Then he had become Fire Lord, and there were so many duties for them both to attend to, and now… Now she was standing right in front of him as she had so many times before, and might not again for he didn’t know how long, and he wanted, more than anything, to kiss her.

Zuko leaned closer till his nose touched hers, till her exhales became his inhales, and he could smell the warmth of her skin, see the flutter of her eyelashes as she hesitated before finally shutting her eyes and sinking into his touch.

She tasted salty and sweet all at once and her lips were soft, but insistent as they pressed against his own. He wrapped his arms around her and gathered her closer, closer, till he could feel her heart hammering in time with his own, till it felt like they shared one body, one ridiculously happy soul.

Her hands rose to his chest and tangled in the silk of his crimson robes for one desperate moment, before she pulled away, breathless and… shaking her head.

“Katara, what’s wrong?” Zuko cupped her cheek in his hand. His palm grew damp from her tears.

When she looked up he could see them streaming down her face turned gold by the morning light. “Zuko, we can’t do this. I know you know that.”

He did know. He had thought about it all before, everytime the urge to act on his feelings had risen he had resisted only because he was aware of the consequences of them. Of all the impossible things Zuko had done: finding the Avatar, facing his father, ending a war, the path that lay before him seemed the most insurmountable, because yes, she was right, but he didn’t want her to be…

The politics of it would be complicated -- several of his advisors would take issue with the Fire Lord being romantically connected to a Southern Water Tribe ambassador. No matter that he couldn’t care less what they thought, it would still get in the way of the work that needed to be done. They would accuse him of being partial when negotiating, of clouded judgement. Time would be wasted arguing the dynamics of his relationship instead of focusing on the way forward to a better world.

She spoke again, as though reading his mind. “My people need me and so do yours…”

One specific person came to mind, who Zuko knew relied on and loved her very much. “Aang… He’s forgiven me for a lot, but… I don’t think he’d forgive me for this.” Zuko looked down at where her fingertips stuck loosely to his own, not yet ready to separate. He lamented the loss of what was right in front of him.

“We just weren’t-” Katara’s voice broke and she inhaled shakily before continuing. “We weren’t meant for each other.” Her face told a story that contradicted her words. Her face said she felt the same as he did --that they were connected in ways that were indescribable, as deep and powerful as the love between moon and sun.

Still, she pulled her hand away from his and stepped backwards and Zuko felt a piece of himself fall away with her...

Later that day the sky would be pink and purple where it had been blue and gold. He would turn away from the friends gathered to seek fresh air, and he would see her standing where they had stood that morning, receiving a kiss from the Avatar --the sun setting behind them.

***

There were letters exchanged over the next few years, but writing them felt like playing a part in a play. It was make-believe, a well-practiced lie.

Zuko found that the white spaces on a page were blinding. For every word he wrote there were infinitely more he wanted to add -- shattered, wish, missing, love…

He thought he might develop a tolerance for the pain of exchanging such mundane and careful sentences with her, instead, he eventually figured out it was simpler to say nothing at all than to bear the burden of holding back what went unspoken.

It was easier then, when the communication at last died out, to let her go…

***

It was sometime in his third year as Fire Lord that an assassin nearly succeeded in ending his reign.

The poison raced through his veins like lava, setting his skin on fire from the inside out, pulling at his muscles like strings of a puppet, but it was not the physical agony that tortured him the most.

It was the closest he had come to death since the Agni Kai and he had not spoken to Katara in nearly a year. The last time the world had been ending she had been by his side, facing it with him…

All the reasons not to be together, all the fear… They were irrelevant when paired with the regret he had for everything that could have been. He was dying --and what did it matter now what might have gone wrong, when in the final hour the only mistake that mattered was that they had said good-bye.

***

Zuko opened his eyes to blue.

He was certain that the spirit world had chosen the color most calming to him to help ease his transition into the afterlife.

Then the blur began to draw into focus…

He sat up so fast the room spun and her form became distorted again.

“Hey, take it easy… How are you feeling, Fire Lord Zuko?” Katara’s face had lost some of the roundness of youth, but her voice remained the same and Zuko marveled at the wonder of hearing it again after so many years.

He gave her cheek a gentle stroke to ensure it was not a dream. She smiled at the touch and his heart hiccuped at the sight. “I’m so happy to see you,” he breathed.

“Your uncle said you gave him quite the scare…”

“Uncle?… You mean you didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “No, I just got here. I didn’t realize you had been sick…”

“I assumed someone sent for a healer --the Fire Lord deserves the best, right?”

Katara rolled her eyes at his teasing, but when she spoke again her voice was serious, “That’s not why I came here.”

“Then why?”

She shut her eyes, took a deep breath and slowly released it. When she opened them again her hand had reached for his. “I almost died... I was traveling with Aang and Toph and one day I decided to go for supplies while they made camp. I was surprised by some bandits. Not a big deal for a waterbender normally --except the only scratch they managed to land on me came from a poisoned arrow. By the time I realized what was happening it was almost too late… I got lucky.”

“It was the same for me…”

“Right,” she nodded, glancing at the damp rag on his bedside table --a remnant from the battle he had fought against the poison’s fever.

“So, you came here for help? We need to track down the bandits? Do they have Aang and Toph?!” The questions tumbled one after the other until Zuko had worked himself into such a state of concern he was preparing to leave the bed right that moment and gather all the resources at his disposal to assist.

“Zuko, no, no, it’s not that. Aang and Toph are fine.” She steadied him with a hand to his shoulder.

“Katara… I don’t…” He searched her eyes for answers, but the years had not erased the pain of the day on the balcony. “Why are you here?”

“Zuko… The world was about to end, I was going to die, and…” The words tumbled out. “And the only thing I thought of was that morning before I left. I thought I had figured out how to think about you --living your life- without it ripping my heart out, but I thought of you and I thought of dying without seeing you again and it hurt more than anything. We were wrong, we…”

He didn’t let her finish the sentence. He leaned back and pulled her on top of him, held her tightly and kissed her for all the times he hadn’t in the years since their good-bye --like the world was ending, and nothing else mattered.

#zutara #zutara fanfic #zuko x katara #this is how i worked through some writer's block #b writes #zutara one-shot #500 #im pretty shocked tbh

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moon-rabbit-music · 4 years

Text

Alright so I’m writing a Teba x Link x Revali fic, and it was originally supposed to be a 1000-2000 word oneshot, but...well, let’s just say I’m at almost 3000 words now and only about 10% of the way through the plot, so. Yeah.

Anyway, I’m impatient and want to share, but I don’t want to break this up into sub-2000 word chapters, so...I’m just posting a big ol’ chunk of it as, uh, a really long teaser, I guess! I hope y’all enjoy :)

___

Teba knows he’s fucked from the moment he meets Link.

He’s met a few Hylians before, but this one stands out. He’s more...colorful than any other Teba’s seen before, with his golden hair and electric blue eyes and the strange hoops adorning his pointed ears. Teba can’t help but think that he’s far prettier than a Hylian male has any right being, a thought which he immediately pushes out of his mind with an angry huff.

At first, it’s easy to ignore. They have business to attend to, and if he feels a twinge of worry every single time Link narrowly dodges one of Vah Medoh’s lasers, that’s just because he can’t live with another injured warrior on his conscience. The ache in his chest when he leaves him alone on the deck of the Divine Beast is just disappointment in himself, for being foolish enough to get himself injured, and for leaving what should be the business of the Rito to a Hylian stranger.

(The genuine worry in Link’s eyes makes him feel a little better, though.)

When Vah Medoh perches directly above the village, there’s a flurry of panic. After a few minutes, as it seems content to simply sit there with its beak pointed toward the castle, the mood turns to conspiracy, which is only elevated when Harth and Mazli fly up to investigate and return with the unconscious bodies of Link and a Rito male that no one in the village recognizes. Teba misses all of it, laying on a small cot and staring dejectedly at the crossed wooden beams of the infirmary ceiling, and by the time Link and the stranger are brought in he has fallen asleep.

He awakens the next morning to see Link curled up on a cot a few feet away from him, clutching the blankets, a hole the size of his hand burned into his shirt on the left side of his stomach and charred flesh underneath. On the other side of the room, a mess of dark blue feathers lies crumpled in a hammock.

Saki and Harth drift in and out of the room all morning, fussing over the three of them. Link wakes around noon, bringing a hand gingerly to his wound and wincing. Teba sits up and clucks disapprovingly, and Link’s gaze swivels around to him.

“How’s your leg?,” he signs, and Teba huffs.

“Better than your side. What the hell happened in there?”

Link laughs, a breathy little sound. “There was a monster, possessing Medoh. I managed to kill it, but it was a hard fight.”

Teba nods slowly. He finds it hard to believe that this tiny Hylian single-handedly calmed the beast that had shot so many of their finest warriors (including himself, he thinks with a grimace) out of the sky, but according to Saki, it had been completely still for the roughly 16 hours since it landed. And, on some instinctive level, he trusts that Link is telling the truth.

“So who’s this?,” he asks, gesturing at the hammock, and Link looks over. His eyes widen, and he starts to push himself up before falling back onto the cot with a small whimper. A flood of worry rushes through Teba, and before he has time to think about what he’s doing he’s on the floor next to Link, carefully placing a wing on his chest.

“Hey now.” He intends it to be soft, comforting, but it comes out gruff. He tries again. “They’re gonna be okay. Saki and Harth will make sure of that.” Link relaxes a little, and Teba nods approvingly. He stays there, watching carefully, until the silence stretches on for a little too long and he coughs awkwardly and shuffles back to his cot. “...So?”

Link frowns, glancing back over at Teba. “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

Teba raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t believe you when you said you could calm Vah Medoh, and yet here we are.”

“I suppose.” He fiddles with the hem of his tunic, looking uncomfortable. Teba watches with a slowly growing sense of trepidation, wondering what could possibly make him so hesitant to answer such a simple question. Eventually, he spells out a name.

“Revali.”

“...Revali.”

Link nods.

“As in—”

Link nods. Teba can feel the feathers on the back of his neck rising. “This stranger had the gall to claim to be Master Revali, one of the most celebrated Rito warriors in history, who lived one hundred years ago...and you believed him?!”

“He didn’t claim anything. He was barely conscious enough to land Vah Medoh. I...recognized him.”

Teba just...stares. He recognized him? What the hell does that mean? Link swallows and looks away, and Teba starts guiltily.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and Link gives him a thin smile.

“I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just-” He shakes his head. “You recognized him? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Link shrugs. “I could explain that too, and then you’d really think that I’m off the deep end.”

“Try me.”

Link laughs again, louder this time (and Teba’s stupid heart flutters, just a little).

“If you insist,” he responds, and Teba nods. “One hundred years ago...I was the Princess of Hyrule’s appointed knight. I knew all of the Champions, including Revali.” He grimaces. “After we lost, I was...my body was taken to a shrine on the Great Plateau. It healed me, but took away my memories. I’m only just starting to get them back...”

“Link,” Teba says quietly, and he looks over. Teba hesitates for a moment— it feels cruel, somehow, to question what he says, as wildly unbelievable as it is. He forges ahead anyway. “Do you...do you have any proof of this? At all?”

Link gestures helplessly. “I know it sounds insane. Your Elder, he recognized my Sheikah Slate. He believes I’m a descendent of the Hylian champion, which I guess is a lot more believable.”

“I guess.”

They sit in silence. Link looks at the ceiling, then over at the hammock, then back at the ceiling. Teba thinks about his tunic, a shade of blue more vibrant than he thought possible to make fabric in, an unsettlingly similar blue to Vah Medoh’s lasers. And the eye on the back of the strange slate he carries, identical to the eyes of Vah Medoh’s cannons.

Saki pokes her head in. “Oh, good. You’re awake. And you—” she points at Teba, “you should be lying down.”

“I’m not putting weight on it,” he counters, “and it’s healing quickly. It was a shallow wound.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t push, and he’s grateful for it. Instead, she walks over to the hammock, bending over to carefully examine the unconscious Rito. “I may have to ask Amali to make him another elixir. His external wounds seem to be mostly healed, but his breathing is still shallow.” She turns to Link. “How are you feeling?”

She dresses the wound on Link’s chest and worries over Teba’s leg before leaving, and a few minutes later Harth comes in with two plates of steamed salmon. Link insists that he can feed himself despite not being able to sit up, and it’s not until after he’s dropped three entire bites of salmon on the floor that Teba insists upon helping him. He apologizes profusely, but Teba waves it off. He’d done the same for Harth last week. Link goes back to sleep not long after eating, leaving Teba alone with his thoughts again. He watches for a few minutes, wondering at the strange sense of protectiveness he feels toward this strange Hylian he met only yesterday.

He doesn’t think Link is lying. Even to him, it’s clear as day that he believes every word he’s saying. Which means that either he actually did wake up in a strange shrine on the Great Plateau with his memory gone, or he’s horrifically delusional. Teba knows which one of those answers he prefers.

Then there was the strange tablet— a Sheikah Slate, he’d called it. On his hip, it appeared to be a plain stone slab, elaborately carved and painted but otherwise ordinary. Teba knew, though, that on the side facing inward it was not stone, but a strange, smooth surface that started off dark and lit up when touched. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but Link had mentioned that it let him fast-travel to any of the shrines he’d visited before.

At first, Teba had shrugged it off as some fancy adventurer’s technology, but now that he thought about it, it was...strange. He’d only ever seen two shrines, the one just outside the village and the one near the Flight Range, and they had both essentially just been elaborately carved hunks of rock for as long as he or anyone else could remember. They’d both flared up with mysterious orange light about a month ago, the same day that mysterious tower had risen in the east and Vah Medoh had appeared, circling ominously close to the village. Maybe he should ask Link what he knows about them...

He sighs and turns away, moving back to his cot and collapsing backwards, suddenly aware that he’s tired as well. He should get some more rest, hopefully be able to leave the infirmary by tomorrow and get back to training within the week. He’s not 100% convinced that Vah Medoh won’t start causing problems again, and if it does, he needs to be ready for it, with or without Link’s help.

It’s difficult to fall asleep— he’s not used to sleeping in the same room as other people, it feels weirdly invasive— but after a while of turning the same thoughts over and over in his head until they dissolve into mush, he manages.

He wakes up to dark skies and Saki holding a platter of meat skewers and three elixirs. She hands Teba and Link one each of the former and puts the platter down between them, before moving over to the hammock and carefully pouring the third into the unconscious Rito’s mouth. She briefly examines Teba’s leg as he eats and tells him that he should stay in the infirmary overnight. He nods.

“Thank you for everything,” Link signs as she re-bandages his wound. She nods in acknowledgment.

“Thank you for helping Teba,” she responds, “and our village. We are all very grateful.”

Link flushes, and Teba tries not to think about how cute it is.

He can sit up now, albeit with a bit of a pained expression. It fades as he eats, but he still collapses back into his pillow as soon as he’s done. “You guys have good food,” he signs, and Teba chuckles.

“Amali is a good cook.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Healing well.” He frowns. “You’re in much worse shape than I am, you shouldn’t worry about me.”

Link just shrugs.

“Well, I do,”

he responds, and Teba has nothing to say to that.

___

Fuckin uhhhh yeah

Keep your eyes peeled for the rest of this in like, three months or something IDK

#breath of the wild #teba #revali #link #revali x link #revalink #teba x link #tebalink #teba x revali #tevali #teba x link x revali #tevalink #yes i just made up three ship names don't @ me #my writing #i'm writing these tags like 1000 words in #and oh my god this is going to be so much longer #and have so much more dialogue #than i was planning #edit: i was right

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cc-sketchbook · 4 years

Photo

Y’all like Monsters? I hope you do because that’s what I did this week! 8D So I have a comic I’ve been writing for a bit called “Monster” (which I will put a link to as a comment in the notes because Tumblr is weird about links to things...) and one of the things I like to do is take characters from things I like and turn them into well, monsters! Since I’ve been on an Invader Zim kick for a while I thought it was about time to do some for them! I even did a process video for it!

youtube

I ALSO wrote some neat little dossiers for each one past the “keep reading” :D hope you all enjoy them!

Vorare-Schism (Zim)

Size Rating: Titan (more than 5 stories tall)

Danger Rating: Apocalyptic (even a momentary manifestation of this monster causes natural disaster level damage)

Minions: yes

Nest: unknown

Vocalizations: Makes sounds like distorted or corrupted audio; resembles laughing, crying, or screaming. Accompanied by additional sounds similar to recordings of "space sounds".

Behavior: Roaming/Aggressive

When manifested this creature seeks to consume all matter in its path, appearing to prefer organic matter and man-made structures/objects. It seizes its targets with mechanical-like tentacles and "feeds" them to the mouth like opening in its central mass. It has been reported by magical girls who have survived an encounter with this creature that they find it difficult to look away from the "mouth" and that they experience a feeling of being "drawn in". These reports correspond with those that human and animal victims who make eye contact with the creature do not move or offer up any kind of resistance to it. Once enough matter has been consumed it "regurgitates" it in the form of a much smaller minion, bearing a strong resemblance to the "body" structure attached to it's "head". These minions are tethered to the main creature via cable like tendrils. Their main purpose seems to be to disable or kill anything not dominated by their master. This creature has been seen to move in a somewhat erratic direction as though searching for something. The only deviation from this behavior is when it is confronted by the creature labeled Tinnebriel, whereupon the two will fight until Vorare-Schism eventually kills it after which it will disappear, presumably back to its nest. It is noted that no matter how many times Vorare-Schism has killed Tinnebriel it does not consume it, whether it chooses not to or physically can't is unknown. Magical girls are advised to avoid confronting this creature directly and focus on rescuing civilians. They are also strongly advised not to try to follow it back to its nest as none who have attempted to do so have survived.

Solitaria (Gaz)

Size Rating: Large (between one and two stories in height)

Danger Rating: Lethal

Minions: none

Nest: yes

Vocalizations: none. However, is accompanied by varying volumes of static.

Behavior: Territorial/Provoking

This creature has set up a nest in the remnants of a mall. The reality-warping effects of its nest have recreated the location as fully functioning, with bright neon colors and twisted geometry. Solitaria does not leave its nest and seems to spend most of it's time within it toying with electronics or interacting with the attractions it has created. It has been observed that the substance constantly flowing from its smaller more animal-like skull bears a visual similarity to paint and can be seen evaporating after it has been deposited on the floor, becoming the gas that makes up the lower portion of the main body. The smell has been described as acrid and acidic and indeed victims who have come into physical contact with the substance are found to have moderate to severe burns. At times it appears to become frustrated and throw violent tantrums, smashing and breaking any nearby objects or structures and becoming more aggressive towards intruders. Despite its highly destructive power Solitaria is not inherently aggressive, choosing to ignore intruders unless provoked. What may provoke the creature, however, is unclear, the two most common triggers appear to be making a great deal of noise and attempting to approach it, but other "offenses" have included: knocking over an empty soda can, touching the wrong archaic arcade machine, and looking at it for too long. Magical girls are advised to engage only in groups of at least four.

Tinnebriel (Dib)

Size Rating: Large (between one and two stories in height)

Danger Rating: High

Minions: none

Nest: yes

Vocalizations: Unusual. Resembles young boy reading a series of numbers in a similar fashion to a "numbers station"

Behavior: Territorial/Migratory/Aggressive

This creature is unusual in that while it possesses a "nest" and stays within, it is also prone to moving to a new place and bringing its nest with it. It seems to favor places like museums, schools, and libraries, which has caused concern that this may be a monster capable of seeking information, though to what end is currently unknown. The interior of the nest is based upon wherever it is currently located, the lighting within will be severally lowered or put out entirely and replaced with fog and an ever distant blue light, geometry will fold in on itself and perspective will become distorted. The latter distortions are so extreme that no matter what size of a room or hallway, the creature has been observed moving through them with ease, even when it should not be able to. Of note is a giant cylindrical structure of some kind in the center of the nest made from sheets of metal and electronic parts. It possesses large glass apertures showing the interior to be filled with a swirling phosphoric blue substance similar in appearance to stellar plasma, possibly the source of the blue light. The creature can be seen scaling the structure and attempting to force objects into it, predominantly forms of writing: books, magazines, comics; and electronic items like laptops and phones, lending more to the theory that it is trying to collect information for some unknown purpose. It is very protective of its nest and will immediately seek out and attempt to kill any intruders or people already present in it's chosen location. In a disturbing turn of events, it has been reported that this monster vocalizes human speech, analogous of whatever the most common local language is. Despite this it doesn't seem capable of communication as all it does is recite numbers. Those who have heard it "speak" report feeling dizzy and lightheaded and as though something was "rooting around" in their head. The creature is surprisingly fast and agile despite having no legs and appearing to have lost the lower half of its body. It pulls itself around on it's larger arms and while not capable of prolonged or coordinated flight, it's many wings have been seen to propel it through the air when making large jumps. It has also been seen "flopping" along over rooftops while migrating. The most puzzling behavior however is Tinnebriel's heralding of Vorare-Schism's appearance, to the point that this change in behavior can be used to evacuate civilians in advance. Tinnebriel will abandon its nest and travel to the next location Vorare-Schism will appear in, at times up to a week before manifestation, the way Tinnebriel determines this is unknown. Once Vorare-Schism manifests Tinnebriel will attack it and will not stop until Vorare-Schism has killed it, often by vivisection. After a short time, Tinnebriel's body will dissolve in a manner similar to most slane monsters, but will almost immediately reappear at its last nest. Because of its value in predicting the appearance of a far worse creature it has been decided that magical girls are not to engage with the creature beyond keeping track of its movements and protecting civilians.

Scruffles (Gir)

Size Rating: Moderate (less than a story, taller than an adult human

Danger Rating: moderate

Minions: none

Nest: none

Vocalizations: animalistic squealing and shrieking

Behavior: Roaming/Provoking

#invader zim #invader zim fan art #zim #dib #gaz #gir #Illustration #creature design #Character Design #Character Concept #monsters #I'm so excited to hear what you guys think of these! 83

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