#do i wish i had a cat like archie

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

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Pairing: Izzy Hands x gn!reader

Synopsis: Some bad habits are hard to break, and despite his best attempts to be kind, Izzy still manages to mess things up between you.

A/N: And we are back with the second chapter! Thank you for giving this fanfiction a chance. Every like and reblog means the world to me.

Content Warning: Self-depricating inner monologues, reference to the Kraken's torment and torture in Season 2, mutual pining and Izzy being a dick. This series is 18+, so minors dni. Go away (politely).

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, REPUBLISH, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. I DO NOT OWN OFMD OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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It had to be noted that, the First Mate of the Revenge was indeed, a man of few words. And the few words that left his lips, were usually either a command or a curse. Though that was not quite strictly true when it came to addressing someone such as yourself. It had not gone unnoticed by the crew that, there was a certain softening of Izzy's tone, whenever he addressed you directly. His curses were said more in jest, than in true anger and there was something akin to fondness in his gaze, as he stared at you for longer than what was considered appropriate from a friend.

While some called Buttons a Sea Witch, perhaps it was you, who was the true magic wielder. Had you not ensnared the First Mate with your powers of compassion and competency? Though you sang no siren song like Swede, you had managed to captivate the mind and heart of the most austere person on the Revenge. If that were not the work of sorcery, then what else coukd it be?

Even now, as Izzy patrolled the deck, barking his usual commands and vulgar threats, there was no denying he kept glancing at the entrance to the hull, where you would be found within the ship's kitchen, helping Roach plan ahead for the upcoming storm.

"I mean look at him, the man's like a lovesick puppy." Lucius scoffed, as he watched the silver-haired pirate like a hawk, scrutinising over every movement and twitch with a level of surveillance that would put even the keenest-eyed night watcher to shame.

Cringing at the verbal observation, Oluwande dared to look in the general direction of the First Mate, whom had thankfully, not seemed to have paid attention to the scribe's declaration. "Sssh, Lucius. He'll hear you."

"Yeah, babe. I love you but you gotta keep your voice down." Pete agreed, taking the rope from his betrothed and making quick work of the shirked task, seeming happy enough to complete the work for them both.

Smirking at the horrified reactions, Lucius looked like a cat who had gotten the cream. Since his lover had taken charge of securing some nearby barrels, he took the opportunity to light himself a cigarette. "Good. I want him too because then, maybe if he does, he'll grow a pair of balls and actually do something about the situation."

"Have they seriously not confessed anything to each other yet?" Archie questioned, genuinely surprised that it had taken you both so long to finally couple up. In the same amount of time, she herself had managed to acquire two partners. Your dire situation did cause the pirate to question whetger or not you were absolutely useless when it came to the matter of love.

"Not according to (y/n), no."

"I wish they'd hurry up. I've got good money riding on them getting together before the next full moon." Wee John grumbled, as he carried a barrel passed the gossiping group. He had invested several coins into the outcome of your poorly-timed love life and by he'll or by high water, he was going to get a good return on his investment- even if it meant locking you and Izzy in the store cupboard himself. Hell, he'd shove you both into a burlap sack, if he thought it would boost his chances on winning the bet.

"You and me both." Archie scoffed.

He could hear them. Not clearly enough to make out what they were saying but enough to hear the sound of constant nattering. It was incessant, irritating. Like having tge constant buzz of a pesky wasp in you vicinity. Izzy longed for his days on the Queen Anne, where tge crew we focused on work, not idle chatter. Judging by the way that Lucius fellow kept glaring at him, the First Mate surmised that he was the topic of conversation. "Oi! You lot," he yelled, having finally reached the end of his patience. "I told you to prep the ship, not stand around gossiping like washer women!" leaning heavily against the railing, Izzy let out a string of curse words. Whilst not a religious man, he did ask whatever deity was listening, to give him strength and the will power to not throw someone overboard. "Fucking useless."

"Hey, Izzy."

He tensed at that familiar sound, that voice that never failed to stir something dark and wonderful within his soul. It brought to life a part of him he thought permanently dead. Turns out, it was just in a state of dormancy, waiting to be awakened at the right time. Or, at least of Izzy, the right person. "Aren't you supposed to be helping Roach lock down the pantry?" to an untrained ear, his lack of greeting might have sounded barbed and unwelcoming but you knew him better than that. The silver-haired pirate might have even gone so far as to say, you were the only one who knew him as well as himself.

The average person started a conversation with 'hello' but your dear Israel Hands was less conventional in his approach. "Yeah, we just finished. Oh, I brought you some tea. Thought you might appreciate it." you offered him one of the steaming cups of tea in yiur grasp. With a word of thanks, you both took a moment to savour the first sip, letting the warmth run through your veins and stave of tge slight chill in the air. "How's it going up here?"

"We'll be dead in the water come daybreak, if this lot don't do their fucking job right!" he all but screamed the final part of the sentence, easily earning himself a chorus of 'fuck off, Iggy' and 'we're doing our best here, dude!'

Your cheshire cat grin only grew, as you relished in the harmless feud between the crew and the First Mate. "Wow, that good, huh?" you teased, nudging Izzy with your elbow.

"Can you go down there and help 'em when you're finished with your tea? I need someone with half a braincell to check the sails are secured properly." he implored, pinching the bridge of his nose, as a migraine already started to form. Already feeling overwhelmed, the last thing Izzy needed was to add 'check the twats had correctly prepped the rigging' to his never-ending list of chores.

Sensing his palpable stress, you were quick to place a gentle hand on his shoulder in reassurance. Though public displays of affection were not common between you both, you speculated that since the pirate had not flinched but in fact, leaned into your touch, that he was comfortable with the gesture. "No problem, boss." his returned smile did not quite meet his eyes but a win was a win. You had at least eased Izzy of one burden. "How bad is the storm looking?"

When your hand eventually dropped from his arm, it took everything in Izzy's power to keep his voice steady, as he gave an answer to your question. Oh, how he longed to take your hand in his and place it back in his arm, so that he may feel your gentle warmth through the material of his shirt once more. "If Ed's calculations are correct, which they usually are, then...bad."

"Sounds like it'll be fun." you sighed, your attention now on the looming, dark grey clouds the besmirched the periwinkle skies with the promise of rain and turmoil.

While you were distracted by the landscape, Izzy was preoccupied by you. That was it, just you. There were not a multitude of opportunities in the day, where the First Mate had the chance to be this close to you. Where he could drink in your appearance, under the guise of merely being invested in your conversation. It felt wrong to him to be so infatuated with someone, who quite frankly, would never return his feelings but he was a starved man. Taking in every moment, every snippet of closeness he could get, until one day, your heart belonged to another.

Sometimes, he liked to delude himself and believe- just for a moment- that your kindness, your patience towards him, were all a hint towards you sharing his adoring sentiments. That perhaps, you could indeed fall for someone so wretched and broken as him.

The illusion never lasted long. Such fairytales of beauties falling so hopelessly in love with a beast were nothing but children's stories. The very same fairytales found in Stede's library, no doubt. And Izzy, well, Izzy was nothing if not a realist. He knew that you only tolerated him because you felt forever in his debt for saving your life. The silver-haired pirate had told you time and time again that you did not owe him anything but being as stubborn as you are, he doubted that you had paid him any mind. "Where are you staying tonight?" he asked, tone softer than he would have liked. Keeping up appearances around you was nearly impossible.

"I'm gonna bunk up with Oluwande, Jim, and Archie. They've got space on the floor of their cabin."

It was a relief, he mused, that at least you would be sleeping somewhere safe tonight, rather than in the communal space with the others. Still, Izzy could not help but wonder what it would be like, to offer you his own cabin to stay in. He would sleep on the floor, of course, he was a gentleman after all- well, that was debatable but he did possess some morals and understanding of social etiquette- and the last thing the pirate would want to do, was force you into an uncomfortable situation but no. Instead, he kept his yearnings to himself and responded in his usually curt manner. "That's good."

"What about you?" you asked, wondering if Izzy had plans on how he was going to ride out the storm. You assumed alone. Although, you felt a pang of jealously towards the non-existent crewmate, who may one day occupy the same living quarters as the man you were hopelessly besotted with. It was silly really, to feel resentment for someone who had not yet joined the team of misfit pirates and yet, it was inevitable that they would soon in the near future, waltz into Izzy's life and give him the love he most deserved. And as much as it pained you to accept your fate, you knew that could never be you.

"What about me?" he shrugged, unaware of your inner turmoil.

Correct, it could never be you who had the privilege to wake up beside him everyday or have the chsnce to call him yours. He would never see you as anything but some wounded creature he had saved from the brink of death. Certainly not worthy of courting the infamous Israel Hands. "Well-"

But before you could answer, Izzy caught sight of something. No, someone watching you both talk. Lucius. Fuck, he loathed that young man. He could not quite fathom what it was about the scribe that made his blood boil but just seeing him standing there, occasionally whispering something to Pete and smirking, as he cast a glance in your general direction, made Izzy see red.

Then it clicked. The oncoming storm. Of course. Those bastards. They knew of his past, thanks to Fang. No doubt they had told you the story too about how as a young sailor, he had not been able to keep down the contents of his stomach during a storm. Fuck, that nicknane too. You must have been revolted by him. Thought him completely and utterly pathetic. "-Look, whatever those twats have been saying, it's not true. I threw up one time-" Izzy began to defend himself, hoping it was not too late to salvage his reputation.

"-Oh, shit. No, I'm not referring to that. Fuck." you were quick to interrupt his rambling explanation. Sure, yeah, you knew the origin of his nickname, Izzy the Spewer but the story had not altered your opinion of the pirate. So, he threw up! Big deal. So had you during your first storm, and no one had bothered to call you, (y/n) the vomiter. "I just know that, storms bring up a lot of memories for some of the crew." you further explained, hoping he woukd catch the underlying meaning behind your words. "If you catch my drift?"

It took a moment but then a flicker of understanding sparked within Izzy's eyes, as he fully understand your insinuation. "Ah."

"Yeah." you smiled meekly, hoping not to trigger any unwanted memories for the pirate. All you wanted was to assure him that, if he needed comfort, you would be more than willing to provide him with comfort and company until the rain ceased and the skies became agate blue once more. "Will...will you be okay? Tonight, that is."

He knew, somewhere deep down. Deep, deep down, that your asking after his wellbeing was not an attack on his character, that you did not view him as weak for what had happened those many moon cycles ago, when the Kraken had stole him of his leg. This was your way of saying, "Hey, I'm here for you. If you need me", right?

Wrong. The poisonous voice of reasoning whispered in his ear, reminding him not to bet soft and be so sentimental. Of course you pitied him. How coukd you not? He was a disgrace. A washed up has been of a legend, who could no longer ride the coat tails of Blackbeard anymore. You were not offering him anything in the way of kindness, you were just reminding him of yet another mistake in his checkered past.

Before he could stop himself, the words left his lips and it was too late to take them back. "I'm not a fucking child, (y/n)." Izzy almost winced at how hurt you looked, as you flinched at his sudden outburst. Each time- and unfortunately, there had been more than one occasion- your pained expression left a lasting scar upon his heart. A fresh wound of regret that bled out over and over again. He did not mean to be this way with you. It was a defence mechanism, not that was much of an excuse really. Izzy should have- no, he did know- better. His sharp tongue was going to drive you away one day and he would only have hinsekf to blame. What's done was done.

There was nothing he could do, except keep up the charade and retire quickly from sight. He did not have to glance in the direction of the crew to know that they had all played witness to the entire exchange. No doubt he would have to sleep with one eye open tonight or maybe Roach would just spit in his food like last time. "Finish your tea and go fucking check the rigging. That's an order."

"Yes, boss." only minutes earlier, that nickname had been fondly used, now it just felt bitter to the taste.

Without another word, the First Mate abandoned your side and disappeared below deck.

Under the guise of work, your friends had been watching the entire exchange through side eye glances or in Lucius's case, just straight up staring.

Though idle hands appeared busy, Pete had in fact, tied the same knot several times. It was important to get everything secured ahead of the storm but in that moment, his mind was distracted. Casting a glance at the love of his life, his suspicions were confirmed, Lucius felt the same way as him- completely and utterly livid on your behalf. "Yeah, you ain't winning that money back, mate." he muttered to a frozen in rage Wee John, who merely stood holding another barrel, looking like he was contemplating throwing it at Izzy.

"Fucks sake, what a dickhead." he hissed, seemingly deciding against the idea, as he placed it with a resounding thud upon the deck.

Lucius could not stand to see you looking so hurt, as you stared longingly after the bastard who had dared upset you. The scribe knew he always teased you about your intense crush on the First Mate but it was during moments like these, where he really had to question what it was that made you so smitten with Izzy the Spewer. The man was volatile and about as pleasant as a cup of cold sick. Worst of all, this was not the first time he had stormed off after saying something cruel, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your hurt emotions. "I'm gonna go and see if they're okay."

"Maybe give it a moment, babe. Look." Pete urged his partner to take pause and watch you down your drink.

Despite wanting to abandon his post and assume the role of comforting friend, Lucius instead watched as you fought back tears and climbed the rigging, towards the crow's nest, no doubt seeking some privacy away from the watchful eyes of your friends.

"He really is the fucking worst. I genuinely do not get why (y/n) likes him so much." Archie mused, as she wondered if it was possible to find a snake at sea and put it in the bastard's bed?

With all the mysticism of a Sea Witch, the conversation was quickly intercepted by Buttons, whom decided to impart a great wisdom upon those in his vicinity. "'Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind. Therefore, is winged cupid painted blind?'"

There was a pause, as the gathered crew ruminated on his words. Well, partially ruminated. Most just sat there, looking confused or proverbially scratching their heads, unsure what to make of his revelation. Not one to admit his lack of knowledge, Lucius made a conscientious effort to nod his head and pretend he had understood the poet musings of the fellow pirate. "Right, yeah. What he said. Makes total sense."

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A/N: Thank you for reading up until the end of the chapter! I look forward to updating you all with a new instalment soon. Before I go, can anyone guess where Buttons's quote comes from?

#izzy x reader #izzy x gn!reader #x gender neutral reader #izzy hands x reader #ofmd izzy x reader #ofmd izzy #ofmd s2 #save ofmd #ofmd season 2 #ofmd fanfic #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s3 #stede bonnet #ed teach #blackbeard #the gentleman pirate #avengeofmd #avenge ofmd #our flag means death #letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse #letsdeerintheheadlights #ofmd #snow at the beach #my writing

[ayashitetsuko]

Izzy had to go on a business trip. He told his spouse Jim about this on their afternoon walks, and Jim was unexpectedly excited: their girlfriend Archie would be in the same city at the same time.

“Please, you two should hang out!”

Izzy didn’t give an answer right away. Sure, not a bad idea. He liked Archie; he approved of her relationship with Jim. Heck, they had had threesomes a few times. But he was still unsure about going out with Archie without Jim.

“Yeah, okay.” But he remained vague with the answer and did not do anything to follow up.

Jim was over the moon. They even offered to arrange the accommodations after the two’s business in the city was done. “Ooooh this is cool, you get to spend the weekend together!” Their group chat was filled with these messages. It was almost as if Jim shipped their girlfriend and husband.

The trip happened. Jim sent both of them to the airport. For the first few days, Archie and Izzy were busy with work matters. They called Jim back home to talk about their day, separately.

It wasn’t until the last day of work that Archie sent this pic to their group chat with the message: “Otw to steal your husband”

“OMG pls do yasssss”

“You two are aware that I’m not a dead object, right?”

“Lol sorry papi x”

“S ok birdie xx otw to pick up the devil now”

“Hey I heard that”

So Izzy went to see Archie. He hugged and kissed her lightly on the lips when they met, but otherwise they acted just like good friends when they went for dinner. Even when they checked in at the hotel, they opted for twin bed. So on the first night, they slept on separate beds. Nothing happened.

Jim was disappointed.

“You shared a room and nothing happened!? Que!? Why? 😢”

“Ah we’re tired, sweetheart. Old bones.”

“Birdie, have you fed Jojo?”

“Jojo is fine! I need you guys to talk!”

“We talked. Unless talk is how you married couples are calling it these days.”

“GAH!”

Archie and Izzy just laughed. They went on to do more touristy things that day. Checking out the biggest bookstore in town (“Birdie, are you sure you don’t want this special edition Star Wars thing?” // “😤”), buying chocolate for people at home (“How many nieces do you actually have at home?” // “Ah, that’s me, I’m my own niece”).

That night, something quite different happened.

Archie and Izzy went for a drink and after a few glasses, and their laughter became unbearable, they found themselves sitting closer to each other—none of them tried to move farther when their skin accidentally brushed. Izzy even moved slightly closer to Archie; he began to speak to her in whispers. At some point, he playfully traced the skin in her upper arm.

Archie knew what this meant. “Wanna go back and make your little spouse’s dream come true?”

Izzy chuckled. He pulled Archie closer when he felt her arms on his shoulders. “I have an idea. Let’s go back now.” The two of them kissed. “We’ll make this fun.”

Later, in the wee hours, as they slept with Jojo by their side, Jim received something on their phone.

It was a video.

It opened with a scene of Archie lying on her stomach. She was obviously naked. “Hey babe. Someone wants to say hi.” Then Izzy appeared on camera, exactly behind Archie. He did nothing but to kiss Archie’s naked shoulder and winked at the camera. “Wish you were here, babe.” Then Archie placed her phone in such a way that it was able to record everything that she and Izzy were doing; all their activities in clear view.

Jim bit their fingers in excitement when they saw their husband pulling Archie’s hair as he fucked her from behind. They squealed happily whenever Archie and Izzy kissed. When the two reached orgasm, Jim screamed so loudly that it kicked Jojo off the bed.

The cat walked away from its owner. He stared back at Jim with a judging, disapproving look.

—

Read my Archie x Izzy x Jim smut here.

#izzy hands #modern au #jim jimenez #ficlet #ofmd fics #archie ofmd #polyamory #smut #fluff

[mebemilena]

You are my Candy girl and you got me wanting You

A/N:  life is tough sometimes and i got a few issues. There was this stray cat, we called him Sushi. He'd come to visit nearly everyday and i was preparing to adopt him. Sadly, he passed away. Little guy was run over by some irresponsible shithead. He wasn't living at my house yet and i'm not okay about it , i wish i had done something sooner. We took him to the emergency vet but he didn't make it. I feel so small sometimes. 

I didn't want to leave more fanfiction on the wait because i love writting, but i've been feeling sad and tired about everything. Thank you for the kind messages though, I appreciate them. 

A/N 2: we don't celebrate valentine's day in Brazil, we have another saint for romantic relationships and marriage and it's celebrated around June 22nd, i guess. 

-

Summary:  you're working doing errands for a bakery on valentine's day. You're not amused but Maya likes you. 

tittle from Sugar, Sugar by The Archies (one of my favorites)

- 

You took your bike and went to the Firefighter station, your first stop. Wandering around Tamaha, you noticed there were more couples than you'd usually see. The stores seemed more pink and there were love songs playing everywhere.

"A box of donuts for Boonie!", you entered the patio yelling, hitting the small hornet on your bike.

Boonie came almost running to you, she grabbed the box and smiled. She checked it for any name on the outside but there was no card, no name nor anything that could identify who had sent it. She shrugged, opening the box. 

"Why are you grumpy? It's Valentine's day, smile!", she took a large bite of one of her treats.

You looked at Boonie frowning, you hated Valentine's day. Especially because the one person you wanted to be your valentine seemed so out of reach.

"It's a holiday created by Europeans to sell cards and chocolate.", you muttered just as Maya arrived. Maya and her leather jacket, riding that motorbike and looking like the woman of your dreams.

She parked the vehicle and took off her helmet, her eyes landing on you instantly, a smile trying not to appear.

Maya walked towards you and Boonie, greeting the two of you. "Why do you look upset?", she signed to you, accepting one of the donuts Boonie offered. You huffed and replied slowly. "i don't like today. Valentine's day.", you signed.

Boonie smiled at herself, she's been helping you with ASL vocabulary lately. You nearly begged her to teach you so you could impress Maya during class, but she talked you out of it. "It's a pretty great opportunity for you to spend more time together. Ask her for extra classes!", she had said. But she did teach you a few more signs and of course you could practice with her too.

Maya contemplated for a moment, she finished the donut and cleaned her hand on her jeans. "We can study love words today, and i'll teach you how to ask someone on a date.", she started. "I can teach you how to flirt too.", she smiled, confident, not knowing you were already charmed. 

For the first time in a few weeks you understood all of what Maya signed. You couldn't reply how you wanted to, but you did understand and that made you blush.

-

You and Maya planned on practicing your daily vocabulary at a bakery store, eating cake. But first you had to go to Skully's store, him being one of your errands' destinations. 

"Oh, someone remembered me on Valentine's day?", the old man nearly giggled as you handed him a small package, a few decorated cupcakes inside. "Is it from pokni?", Maya asked, making Skully blush and smile. He nodded, not trusting his words as another wave of giggles left his mouth.

You smiled at the old man's antics, a bittersweet feeling spreading on your chest.

-

 Maya noticed you were too quiet. You barely looked around, your eyes on the floor while you pushed your bike around. The two of you bought some soda and pretzels for lunch and sat at a bench to eat and chat.

Maya sighed, she looked around and could finally notice the amount of couples and flowers around Tamaha, her eyes stopping at a couple on the other side of the street. She looked at you and back at them, nudging your shoulder with her own.

"I know you are upset" , she signed. "But it's just a day. You don't need a valentine to celebrate.", she signed to you. "But if you want one, I can be it. Though I like to be with you many other days too.", she smiled, that big smile that showed most of her teeth. 

Your heart danced inside your chest, you could feel the vibrations all over your body. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. You kept staring at her, thinking of an answer.

"I understand what you say, but i don't know reply.", you finally signed to her, watching her face turn into a half-surprised expression.

"Someone's finally studying more?", Maya mocked you, nudging your shoulder with her own. Again. 

You noticed she does that as an act of affection.

"I don't need...", you started, trying  to remember the signs. "C-H-O-C-O-L-A-T-E", you spelled , your hands moving slow. "I have something. More. Candy", you continued. "I have you.", you signed, nervous.

Maya laughed but she understood what you meant, leaving the opportunity to correct you for later. She took a caramel candy from her jacket pocket and gave it to you. "Not chocolate.", she told you with a smile, leaning to give you a kiss on the cheek. 

You sighed, your big smile matching Maya's.

"Happy Valentine's day, Maya.", you signed, linking your arms together as you ate the pretzels and watched the couples walk around town from your bench. 

#maya lopez #maya lopez x reader #marvel women #marvel echo #maya lopez fanfiction

[magma-queen]

This is the last fic for Tickletober, but don’t worry, I have plenty of requests that I still have to finish because something came up and I never got to finish them, until then, enjoy!

Day 28: Distraction

Matt brought his husband back home from a very long, (and painful) Doctor’s visit. Tabitha made his way to their couch and laid down immediately, whining from the pain.

“Can I get you anything, babe?” Matt asked.

“MmMmm..” He whined once more.

The Team Magma admin had gotten his wisdom teeth removed. He had a long piece of cloth wrapped around his head, and it was tied at the top. He held his jaw, wincing from the pain.

“Try not to lean on anything that’ll make it worse, love. But hey, look at the bright side!” He tried to cheer him up. “At least you’re not on the anesthesia anymore! You were pretty out of it.”

“Mmph..” Tabitha groaned, then glared, seeing Matt chuckle at him. “Wh-what’s so funny..?”

“It’s just.. I’m sorry, babe.. this may be a little inappropriate for your situation right now.. but- *snrk* You really do look like a Makuhita man now!”

“You dick..” He rolls his eyes. “Let’s give a round of applause for Hoenn’s best comedian..”

Matt sits down next to him and puts an arm around him, hoping he’d want to cuddle. “I’m sorry, hun.. like I said, that was inappropriate.. don’t worry, now.. *kiss* I’m gonna take care of you.”

“There’s not much you can do, Matt.. owww.. I’ve taken the pain medication.. and it doesn’t feel like it’s working..”

“Then, what you need is a distraction from the pain. Maybe we could cuddle and watch a movie?”

The thought seemed nice, but he didn’t think anything could distract him from how much his gums and jaws were hurting.

“I dunno… I don’t think that’ll distract me.. I need to feel something either better, or worse than this pain..”

Matt holds him close to his side. “Well, we obviously don’t want you to feel any more pain. I would massage your jaw, but I think that would make it worse..”

“Mmm..” He had run out of ideas. He leans on Matt’s shoulder, trying not to cry from the pain.

Matt suddenly sat up, and looked at Tabitha with a big smile. “I’ve got it, babe.”

“Mm? What is it? Listen.. I don’t care what it is.. if it’ll distract me from his terrible pain.. I’m all for it.”

Matt smirks at him and comes behind him, wrapping his arms around him. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Alright then, I’ve got your permission!” He chuckles, starting to tickle his husband’s belly.

“ACK- AYAHAHAHAHAH! *SNORT* M-MAHAHAHATT!! EHEHEHEHEHE- STAHAHAHAP!!”

“Hehe! Awwww! I think it’s working!” Matt teases. “Courtney told me that you’re ticklish, so I had to try it out sometime! And it’s true! This is so cute, babe!”

Tabitha squeals as his husband doesn’t let up. “SHEHEHEHE TOHOHOHOLD YOHUHUHUHU WHAHAHAHAHAT??! I’LL AYAHAHA- MUHUHURDER HEHEHER!!! HAHAHAHEHEHE- PLEHEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOT MY STOMAHAHAHACH!!”

“She also told me you are especially ticklish on your belly! Is this someone’s most ticklish spot? Huh? Is Tabby’s tummy too ticklish?”

“MAHAHAHATT STAHAHP TEHEHEEHEASING!! *SNORT* L-LEMME GOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“No way, babe! Your laugh is so damn cute! I’m glad she told me this! Now I can listen to those cute giggles whenever I want~”

Tabitha tried desperately to wiggle himself away from his playful lover, but he couldn’t. He had an iron grip on him. The fingers on his stomach wouldn’t let up, making him cackle.

“WHYHYHYHYHY AHAHAHARE YOHUHUHU SO STROHOHONG?! EHEHEHEHEHE- PLEHEHEHEASE LEHEHET MEHEHE GOHOHO!!”

“You know why, Tabby cat! I wrestle with my bro Archie all of the time! I’m even stronger than him!”

“HEHEHEHEHAHAHAH!! STOHOHOP TIHIHIHICKLING MY BEHEHEHEHELLY!! PLEHEHEASE!! IHIHIHI CAHAHAN’T HAHAHANDLE IHIHIHIHT THEHEHEHERE!!”

“Alright then, as you wish!” He smiles, fingers moving to Tabitha’s sides. “Are you ticklish here?”

“AYAA!!” His giggles got more high pitched. “MAHAHAHATT PLEHEHEHEASE!! YEHEHES OKAHAHAY?! IHIHIHIHI’M TIHIHICKLISH!! I CAHAHAN’T- I CAN’T BREATHE!”

That was Matt’s cue to stop. He didn’t want to anger his husband. “Hehe, okay okay..” The Team Aqua admin kisses his lover. “I bet you feel better after all that, right?”

“Hehe.. hehehe.. yeah, I do.. it doesn’t hurt as much now..” Tabitha admitted, wiping a few mirthful tears from his eyes. “But.. Don’t you ever tickle my stomach again.”

“Pfffft- You know me better than that, hun. I know your tickle spot now.” Matt cackled. “I know how to get you laughing hard, because I adore your laughter, babe.”

His face turned red. “Good god… I’m going to destroy Courtney..” He growls, but then looks toward Matt. “Hey, Matt?”

“Yes, Tabby?”

He smirks. “I want to see if YOU’RE ticklish.” He chuckles evilly, walking closer to him with his fingers wiggling.

“H-Hold on a sec, babe! Y-You don’t have to do that! I was j-just trying to make you feel better!” He says, backing away and letting a few giggles slip out.

He smirks. “And I appreciate that, love. Now it’s time for me to return the favor~”

“I-it’s okahahay, reheheheally!” Tabitha hasn’t even touched him yet, and he’s already giggling.

“Oh, is that so?”

He grasped Matt’s hips, making the other man shriek loudly.

“N-NOHOHOHOHO!!! T-TABBY!!! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!! PLEHEHEASE NAHAHT THE HIPS!!”

Tabitha was very astonished at the very sight and sound of his husband like this. He absolutely adored every second of it.

“Mmm.. ok, maybe I won’t destroy Courtney.” He snickers. After all, if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have found out that his husband was one of the most ticklish people on the planet. “Hehe, this is a really cute factor of yours, Matt. The hips, you say?” He smirks, squeezing both of his hip bones.

“GAAAAHH!! BAHAHAHABE NOHOHOHOHO!!” He fell over into the floor. Tabitha pins him down and continues the tickly assault. “NOO!! NOT THEHHEHEHE RIHIHIHIHIBS!!!”

Tabitha’s fingers were skittering across his ribs. “Awww, why dear? It’s making you laugh so much! It’s frickin adorable! Tickle tickle tickle!”

He did stop eventually when Matt’s face turned super red while tears spilled from his eyes.

“Okay, okahahay.. I’m done… *kiss* I never knew you were so ticklish, babe..” He let Matt sit up.

“Hehehe.. Heh.. hee.. you would’ve found out eventually, Tabs. But, I have one favor to ask.”

Tabitha tilted his head curiously. “Yes, love?”

“Plehehease don’t tell anyone else about this. Heh.. especially Archie. When he’s got that kind of ammo against me, he’ll use it to his advantage when we tussle.. I’ve been trying to keep it on the low this far.. and besides, have you seen how merciless he is when he tickles Maxie? The poor dude can’t catch a break.”

Tabitha laughs. “Well, unlike me, I think that Maxie enjoys it. Otherwise, if he didn’t, I think Archie would have a black eye at this point.” He cackled. “But I understand what you mean, dear. If you don’t want me to say anything, then I won’t.”

“I appreciate it, baby..” He smiles, kissing Tabitha on the cheek. “And in return, I won’t tell Courtney that your underarms are ticklish~”

He got confused. Matt didn’t tickle him there. “How did you know-“ He stopped himself and covered his mouth. “Shit.. you asshole.”

Matt cackled as he tried to attempt tickling his husband’s underarms. “Oh, I’m an asshole, huh? You’ll pay for that!”

“N-No!! Matt, don’t- AHAHAHAH!! NOHOHOHO STOHOHOHOP IHIHIHIHIT!! AYAHAHAHAHHAH!! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!!”

“You know, I think you may enjoy this too, Tabby.”

“N-NOHOHOHO IHIHIHIHI DOHOHOHOHON’T!! *SNORT*” His face turned red from embarrassment. “Q-QUIT IHIHIHIT!”

Matt just cackled along with him. “You totally do, babe.”

Matt didn’t stop until Tabitha took back calling him an asshole, which didn’t happen until Matt threatened to tickle his belly. They spent the rest of the night cuddled together on the couch. Eventually, the pain in his mouth went completely away, and he has no one but his husband to thank for that.

“Matt..”

“Yes, Tabby cat?”

*blush* “I love you.”

“Awww, I love you too sweetie. C’mere.” He says, putting an arm around him as they cuddled.

#Pokemon #Tickletober2022 #Seamountshipping #Matt #Tabitha #fics #my fics #Tickling

[alaffy]

Riverdale (7x17) - A Different Kind of Cat (spoilers)

The only reason why I haven't dropped this show at this point is because there's three episodes after this and I refuse to let Roberto beat me. I'm not really going to give much of a recap here, because there really wasn't much to recap.

And I'm going to be honest, I wish they hadn't brought Josie back. Not because I don't like the character, I do. But I feel that the episode with her and the Pussycats in season 5 was a much better send off.

So, very quick recap. Betty has decided to write a book and she finds out about Cheryl's pictures with Toni. She lets Cheryl know that she The Teenage Mystique and asks Cheryl to ask Toni to take photos her in lingerie for the cover of her book. Cheryl, who please God don't let them be cousins, agrees and says she'll do an oil painting of Betty's favorite photos. Photos are taken and, as Cheryl develops them, Betty admits she's never had sex. Cheryl gives Betty a magazine teaching her about masturbation. And then we have a scene with Betty in the bathtub...this worked better and made more sense in Plesentville.

Archie wants to have sex again. He goes to Twila who, despite being a Lady of the Night, turns him down (which, damn!). He then sets his sights on on Ms. Grundy. Who is very married. He invites her to an open poetry night and then proceeds to read a poem that makes it clear to all that he wants to bone Mrs. Grundy. And...why are you all making me defend Grundy? Why are the writers doing this? Grundy, who clearly wishes she were in a time where it was easier to get a restraining order, suggest to Archie to leave the love poems behind and write about something that hurts him. Like this show hurts us. Archie writes about his dad's death. Fred finds the poem and destroys it. I can't believe I'm going to say this but...Frank was annoying, sure, but he wasn't an asshole. How do you mange to assassinate the personality of a character that had no personality? And yet, here we are.

Jughead, who's dating Veronica now, creates Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Yup. I hope she comes back in time and kicks all their asses.

Meanwhile, Veronica finds out that Josie McCoy wants to premiere her movie in Riverdale, or do a test run of it as she's financed it herself and needs to know people will like it before she tries to shop it around. It's an excuse to get Josie back for an episode. Anyway, they love the movie and Josie suggests that Veronica should work in pictures. Which...doesn't her family have a studio? Why does nobody seem to realize this?

#riverdale #riverdale spoilers #betty cooper #veronica lodge #jughead jones #archie andrews #cheryl blossom #toni topaz #kevin keller #clay walker #josie mccoy

[mothmanchronicler]

prompt: industrial revolution AU. hiram is an oil baron & the riverdale cast are the disease-ridden children that run his factory. betty is inexplicably hunting jack the ripper. archie is a soldier tasked with union-busting but he ends up joining the union himself. veronica orchestrates mass voter fraud. jughead still has rabies. etc etc

The life of a street rat is not envied by many, but Jughead thinks he's got it pretty good, all things considered. A bed to lay his head at night (straw: not bad but for the rats) in a room with enough other kids crammed inside to prolong the wood stove's warmth at least halfway through the night.

He's even got himself a job that pays real money, not that company store crap that his daddy was trapped in before he kicked the bucket. Sure, his room and board is deducted straight from his salary so it's not much, but it's honest work.

Well, no, it's not really honest work either. The Lodge Textile Factory, like most work available to the likes of Jughead and his peers, pays like shit.

If Reggie's two missing fingers are a testament to quality of the work, that's shit too. At least he was lucky enough to get out with his life intact.

Dilton Doiley, poor bastard, was sucked into one of the giant looms last spring. They spent four entire days plucking pieces of him from the threads and mechanisms, at a lower pay rate because of the "loss of revenue," as one of Hiram Lodge's goons floor managers had put it.

So yeah, its shit all around.

But it's work, and a place to stay, and he makes just enough to send a measly amount back home to Jelly Bean and his ma at the end of the month. Ma says in her letters that she's using that money to put Jelly Bean through school. He hopes that's true, although he's never been one to take what his ma says at face value. He just hopes that Jelly Bean is clothed and fed and kept in good spirits.

His day begins, like all days, with the lady of the house ringing her god awful bell to wake them all up.

"Rise and shine," Mrs Bell calls, voice rough and grating at the early hour. "You best be up in the next 10 minutes or else you'll miss your company provided breakfast."

Jughead groans and it joins a chorus of the others' similar noises. He sits up, rubbing his eyes.

"Company provided breakfast my ass," Reggie grumbles from the cot beside him. "I wish they would just call it gruel, be fucking honest with us."

Gruel might even be a bit of an overstatement, if Jughead's honest with himself, but it's calories and he's never been one to turn down a free meal.

He elbows his way to the shared bathroom for a leak and a splash of questionable lukewarm water to the face.

He's got his bowl of slop breakfast and a seat at one of the uncomfortable tables in the pathetic excuse for a cafeteria when Betty Cooper slides into the seat next to him.

She's as bright eyed and bushy tailed as every, despite the hour and the paltry conditions of their lives.

"Juggie, did you see?"

He doesn't have time to ask what she's talking about before she's slamming down a copy of the newspaper in front of him. He squints at the page as Betty continues to ramble at a mile a minute.

"There were two bodies found last night, can you believe it? Exactly the same as the other. Ladies of the evening, both of them. All cut up and disemboweled. The detectives on the scene said it looked like the killer was playing some sort of grotesque game of 'cat's cradle' with their innards." Jughead drops his spoon and pushes his bowl of gruel away from him. Betty, not even taking pause, grabs it and starts shoveling it into her mouth. "They say the killers getting bolder, killing closer to populated areas. The poor bastard that came across one of the bodies was quoted as saying he say a brief glimpse of a black cloaked when he turned the corner before the killer disappeared into the night. It's lunacy, Jughead! How have they not caught this evil man yet? It's like the police can't do their jobs."

Jughead wants to know where Betty got the idea that the police are capable of doing their jobs, and what her idea of those jobs would be, but he doesn't press the issue. By the time they're being shuffled to the factory floor, Betty has moved onto theories.

"The children's games angle has me thinking," Betty continues as she settles into her spot next to him on the line and ties her hair back in a knot. "What if the killer is someone who works with kids, ya know? Like a school teacher, or or someone who works at an orphanage?"

"Hm, you know that's not a bad theory, Betts." Jughead considers. Beside him, Betty gasps. For a horrible moment, he thinks she's been dragged down by her hair into the machine, but she's just staring at him with wide eyes.

"What if the killer is one of the orphans, Jug? An exceptionally tall, quick, and brilliant orphan? The cops would stand no chance of catching them, if that were the case."

Jughead stares back with equally wide eyes.

"The perfect murder," Jughead whispers. "The perpetrator would be completely under their radar. He'd basically be-"

"Invisible," they both whisper at the same time.

tbc...

#this is hilarious #actually one of the funniest prompts i've ever seen #i wrote until dinner time but i will continue this insanity #THANK YOU #the slop definitely has ashes mixed into it btw #wood shavings too #there's like no usable calories #side note one of my actually wips has hiram as an oil baron HAHA #writing #fic

[babblish]

Searching for the C

Fandom: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)   Rating: PG Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships/Characters: Douxie, Archie, Merlin, Original Characters

Chapter Two of Two: School's Been Blown to Pieces Dee finds himself stuck hundreds and hundreds of years in the past with absolutely no idea how he got there or how he can possibly get back. He turns to the only people he think could save him but finds strangers there instead. Fortunately such a terrible accident was in some ways foreseen and Archie is on his way.

Exhausted, he sat by the side of the road in the lush grass by a bush with bright red berries. He stomach rumbled and he wished he had asked the delicatessen for something, anything, to eat. It was probably a really stupid idea to try and eat the berries but he had no other options. He doubted he could just ask someone for a tin of beans or sandwich.

He tore of his shoes and socks instead, entirely unsurprised to see the blisters waiting for him. He lay out on his back waiting for his wounds to take him, feeling the blood pulse through his body as all of him throbbed.

“You seem… young for a wizard, if you don’t mind my saying,” said a voice haughtily from behind.

Dee spun around to look for the wondrous person who spoke to him in English like God, the bastard, intended. “What no, what are—” he frowned, seeing nothing but a medium sized house cat wearing glasses, “— you talking?”

The cat nodded curtly. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Call me Archie,” he extended a paw as though that were a perfectly normal thing for a cat to do.

“Dee,” Dee replied, shaking his paw partially stunned and not entirely sure if he should trust the cat. “Are you… that ‘familiar’ the toad fairy was talking about?”

Archie’s brows raised, which was apparently something he could do quite easily. “Absolutely not. I didn’t spend the best years of my life at the W.A.U. to be mistaken as any old ‘familiar.’ I am a fully trained wizard’s associate, thank you very much,” he sniffed.

“Wow,” Dee replied, not knowing what else to say.

“Yes exactly,” Archie nodded. “That is of course assuming you are the wizard I have been assigned to assist,” he narrowed his eyes. “You are a wizard, aren’t you?”

— Ties in with Primordial Awakenings, Primordial Awakenings - Deleted Scenes, Under the Wave, and the rest of The Heart of Janus au.

#my fic #tales of arcadia #douxie #searching for the C #douxie origin fic #heart of janus au #fun with time travel #no prior knowledge to the heart of janus au is necessary for this fic #with the exception of... two minor original characters this is all entirely unconnected so far #a new launching point if you will #also this is something of a CHONKY chapter #with archie merlin and the introduction of camelot #I was sort of spoiled for choice which scene I wanted to highlight here

[krissiefox]

Sonic Nebulous Game Review

SONIC NEBULOUS REVIEW

Sonic Nebulous is a free Sonic fan game that I discovered through a youtube video featuring  such games. It is a side scrolling plat-former set in the SatAM universe, hence it's darker visual style.

One of the first noticeable things about the game is that it features all hand-drawn characters, which definitely shows it to be a labor of love and help it stand out. The graphics overall, are quite nice, with only occasional animation issues. And speaking of characters, this game could put many fighting games to shame with its character roster! The game features a whopping 30 characters from various Sonic universes (games, Satam, Underground, Archie and possibly some fan-made characters too!) As a teenager I had started making my own Sonic comic series where I tried together all these different versions of Sonic into one universe, so I liked seeing this game do similar. Many of the characters have unique abilities which helped me a lot playing through the game - any time I'd find myself struggling on a given zone, I'd try out different characters til I found one that helped me get by whatever obstacle was bugging me. I also found it cool that you can even play as some older characters (Uncle Chuck and Rosie, specifically). The enemy designs were pretty cool, some pulled right from the SatAM show, with others being some very spooky boss monsters who often looked they might be old neglected robots Robotnik had left laying around, The game's soundtrack, while I'm pretty sure is all pulled from other sources, is a solid selection of tunes. I find it reminiscent of how SEGA did Sonic Adventure 2's soundtrack, with some of its funky hip-hop tracks.  I recognized tunes from some electronic artists I really like such as Aphex Twin, The Prodigy and The KLF. These helped enhance the dark fantasy/steampunk feel of the world further.

The sound effects were also well-done, but I did have mixed feelings about the voice clips used in the game. It was cool to hear some characters talk, using audio clips from SatAM, but early on in the game I found some voices annoyingly repetitive and was glad I could turn them off (Antoine was the worst culprit for me).

Speaking of turning things on and off, the game thankfully does have a decent options menu, though I do wish it would save my settings so I didn't have to re-set them each time I launched the game or got a game over. One of the game's graphical features is screen-rotation when you go around loops and slopes, which is technically interesting, but I played with it turned off because it made me feel disoriented.

While I really dug all the nerdy Sonic love that was put into this game, it does have some technical issues that I hope will get ironed out in a future update. To get this game to run I had to launch it from steam, as the executable by itself  kept giving me an error message. While playing as the character "Honey The Cat", I once had her freeze in place after doing an aerial dash attack  and was unable to move. The fact that some of the game's controls require the use of F1-F12 keys was problematic for me as well, as my laptop has those set as system shortcut keys by default. I think it would help to add a controller configuration menu added to the options menu.

There were a couple of general design choices that troubled me as well. When you first start the game, you're already being attacked by an enemy, which was stressful for me because I hadn't even gotten to learn the controls yet. In the first zone there's also a certain slope that is extremely difficult to get up over, unless you're playing as someone who can fly or teleport. Lastly, I would occasionally experience frustration in enemy combat because the game lacks invincibility frames after taking damage (which were present in SEGA’s official 16-bit releases), and with the big boss enemies, I couldn't always tell  what parts were and weren’t safe to touch.

I recommend this one, especially for any Sonic fans, or anyone who likes side-scrolling platformers with a badass soundtrack. It may have a few flaws, but nothing was game-breaking for me -  and there was so much love put into the game that I'd like to see it get more attention.If you’d like to give it a try, you can download the game here: https://www.moddb.com/games/sonic-nebulous/downloads/sonic-nebulous-42

#Sonic Nebulous #Sonic The Hedgehog #Fan Game #Indie Game #Game Review #Gayming #Gaymer #Sonic SatAm #SatAm #Sonic Fan Game #Free Game #DRM-Free

[amomswrites]

Title: Lust's Conduit — Starstruck Seductions

Chapter 2 — The Mistress of Spiders

A/N —Aaaah, yes. We finally get to Luxuria in this one. Giant spider lady? Giant spider lady. UwU

Any Trigger Warnings? Lots of mention of severe injury and blood, as well seeing the finished 'result' of what Luanne did to Archie. It's...not pretty, tbh.

*

*

*

Archie felt something soft wrapped around where his eyes would've once been. The pain still lingered, but it was nowhere near as intense when he first passed out in the strange woman's arms. Despite the gauze, the bitter tang of blood still stained his mouth. It was a sharp and persistent pain, and one that reminded him that only a few hours ago, he'd been savagely attacked and left blinded in the hallowed confines of a church.

He slowly sat up in what felt to be a soft bed. It must have been freshly laundered, because it smelled heavenly, like fresh linen and rose petals. It creaked slightly with his weight as he sat up carefully, and there was a faint rustle of the sheets and comforter with each movement of his body. But, what really drew his attention was just how soft and welcoming it felt to him. It was velvety, probably made of something expensive, and it seemed to envelop him, like being embraced by warm, firm arms after a long day.

The swelling around where his eyes had been gouged felt apparent when he blinked, and he wished he could look around to see his surroundings better. 

But, he knew better than that, even more so upon touching the distended area around his eyes through the bandaging. Immediately, it stung, but he was stopped from further prodding when a familiar female voice piped up. The cadence was lulling, calming the storm in his mind as she began to speak, hoping to prevent any further agitation to the injuries he'd sustained earlier.

"I wouldn't be touching that, dear. You might worsen it. I was able to at least close the gashes to prevent scarring, but your eyes...i cannot promise that. But, i did the best i could. I'm sure once The Mother Fox arrives from whatever errands she may have, she can tend to this much better than I. I'm not the best healer...but i manage with what i have."

Archie's head snapped towards the direction of the woman's voice, and he could hear the gentle tapping of her footsteps approaching him. Like tiny hammers on the anvil of his mind, the familiar rhythm was comforting; it was a symphony of sound that echoed through the chambers of his consciousness.

Even still, it did nothing to soothe the frantic pounding of his heart in his chest. 

His hand moved instinctively to press against it, and he scooted further back on the bed until he hit the headboard with a solid sound. The way his body was poised, he looked like a panic-stricken, feral blind cat that had just backed into a corner...if this woman wasn't careful, he might be inclined to lash out like one.

...To which she seemed to understand quickly, and she didn't take a single step toward him. 

Not until she felt Archie was calm enough for her to work on without fear of injuring himself more...

"Sweetheart," she started in a slow voice, reserved for a child, which normally would've pissed Archie off if he was well within his right mind. The thought of being treated as if he was a small child because of his already odd appearance was enough to irritate him, but coming from her—it came out without an ounce of condescending. She sounded like she genuinely wanted to help him and calm him down while doing so...

"I'm not here to hurt you. I promise you, this is not my intention...but i need your trust and faith in me for to this work. I promise you no more harm will come to you, and i will be as gentle with you as i know how. Do we have a deal?" she offered, and at first, he couldn't help but be skeptical. 

Rightfully so, since the last woman he ever spoke to attacked him and left in a pile of blood and gore after committing an intense act of brutality—one the likes he'd only ever seen in explicit horror movies.

For the first time since waking up after, he spoke. His voice was low and hoarse, barely just above a whisper. Something about his voice sounded like a fragile and battered, beaten-up instrument, echoing with the strain of the terror of his recent experiences.

"What makes you think...i can trust you, lady...? You have me where you want me...you could easily fucking kill me if you wanted...what the fuck's stoppin' you, huh...?", he spat in a low voice.

She gave a thoughtful hum. "I suppose a lot of things, if i must be honest...but the main thing is that we're still in My Goddess's temple, and for me to kill you would be unwise...and counterproductive, really. Also, why would i kill something that has not tried to harm me? Threats are empty to me unless they are acted upon, in my opinion."

Counterproductive?

What did she mean by that?

Did she need him alive for something?

He was curious to learn more about what she wanted out of him and, more importantly, who exactly she was. At all of this, Archie tilted his head, now wanting to know more about what she was talking about and what was happening.

"I...guess that's fair...? Still doesn't tell me who you are...or where the hell i am...?"

He could hear the wide grin in her soft, velvety voice. It seemed to almost float on the air, but held a hint of something seductive.

"Pardon me, how rude...i haven't entirely introduced myself, have i?", she began, "My name is Luxuria. As in the latin word for lust. You're in my realm, now, dear—where, for as long as you remain here, you will be safe...or rather, it's Milady's. In my days of being her most skilled weaver, i could never craft something as beautiful as her domain. Nevertheless, this sanctuary is yours as long as you remain here..."

Before he could question her further, he felt her reach forward for his face to try and remove his gauze, and the moment soft, petal-like fingers brushed against his round, freckled face, Archie frantically backed away from her. Anxiety flared anew, and he tried to swat her hand away. His breathing became rapid quickly, and his heart reacted in kind—thudding loudly in his chest. 

The sound of blood rushed in his ears, as the revulsion of being touched overwhelmed him. He cursed at her loudly, expletives in both English and Spanish flying from his lips.

"Easy now, dear...i'm only trying to help. I cannot do that if i can't touch you...although, i do apologize for startling you...may i? You needn't be afraid of me. I assure you i won't hurt you...", Luxuria assured him soothingly.

He wanted to believe it; really, he did. But after what he'd experienced, being blinded by a woman who literally wanted him for herself, only to fly into a jealous and feral rage when she found out that she wasn't the woman he wanted to be with...well, it was understandable that the thought of the opposite sex touching him, especially in a way he didn't know or couldn't see, didn't sit too well with Archie.

The young man trembled profusely despite the comforting nature of Luxuria's words. He wanted to trust what she was saying was the truth, but the memory of Luanne's hands caressing his skin, then clawing madly at his eyes like she was some kind of desperate animal...it made him nauseous, and his skin crawled.

"N-No. I...I can't. Please.", his voice was strained, as if he was forcing the words up out of his throat. Archie pushed himself further into the chosen corner he decided on, "Please don't touch me..."

Archie found himself almost crying, his body shaking with silent sobs. The woman before him studied him for a while, her eyes on him for the longest time. He knew, if he could see her eyes, they would probably be compassionate and soft. That was the only way he could comfort himself because, by all means, he wouldn't let her, even if she badly wanted nothing more than to scoop him up and show him the loving care he craved right now...

"Very well. I understand why you're scared...i would be, too, if some strange woman brought me here and i was without my eyes. If you could see me, i can assure you, you have nothing to fear. But, my words only offer so much comfort, do they not?", she spoke, pausing before continuing, "You have been through unimaginable trauma and terror, dear one. But you are safe here. This is a sanctuary, and if you'll have me...I would love absolutely nothing more than to tend to your eyes. But I will not touch you until your word is given. The choice is ultimately yours."

Silence reigned over the room, presumably as Luxuria waited patiently for a response. 

By no means, would she rush or force him; his trust had to be earned. Seconds ticked by, and gradually, Archie felt his initial panic subside. This woman's aura was soothing to him, like a balm on the soul, and despite his instincts screaming otherwise...he finally gave her a slow nod. He was hesitant even to let her do this, but if she was so insistent on helping him with his wounds...maybe this Luxuria woman wasn't such a horrible person.

"Thank you, brave one. You haven't a clue how honored i am to have your trust in me, especially over something like this. You have my word, no further harm shall come by my hands. Now, hold still, please?"

As gentle as a summer breeze, Luxuria then reached for the gauze around his eyes. Layer by layer, the soiled, bloodied bandages were pulled away from his eyes to reveal a gruesome sight for the poor woman to behold. Instead of Archie's once hooded amber eyes staring back up at her, she was greeted to where they would've been looking up at her. 

Archie flinched...but didn't rip away from her.

Luxuria hissed in sympathy at the sight of his injuries, a mixture of curses in Japanese and English flying from her mouth.

"Oh....oh, my goodness. What cruelty has been done to you...? Who could be so sadistic? Only a monster would devise something as sick..."

With words tinged with motherly anger, she remained careful with him, treating him like a precious valuable as she redressed and cleaned the wounds. Archie relaxed into her ministration for once despite being terrified of her, but she was methodical and careful in her movements.

"There we are, that feels so much better, doesn't it?", she cooed once she'd finished. "Rest. Once you heal, we will discuss your future here with The Mother Fox, myself, and the others of this palace...no darkness shall touch you here."

He heard her rise to her to feet to leave him be, but he called after her in a hoarse voice.

"...Please. Don't go away just yet...please? Stay a little longer with me...?"

This plea surprised them both, but Luxuria happily complied with the request; something about the tone of Archie's voice broke her heart to listen to. The boyish sound almost made him deceptively younger than he really was, despite being closer to 30.

But for the first time since that horrific night, Archie felt the faintest flicker of hope for himself. Maybe this could spell something great...but until then, he would just have to wait.

He heard her begin to hum a lullaby, likely one her mother sang to her as a little girl. The gentle melody filled the quiet room, and it calmed his anxiety further. Though his eyes could not see, he could sense this woman meant him no harm and was as caring as any mother figure he'd ever met. As the adrenaline rush faded off, exhaustion took its spot, and she asked for some servants of the place she'd brought him to bring soft blankets to ensure his comfort.

Reassured by her presence near him, Archie let himself succumb to slumber. All while Luxuria spoke of the palace he found himself as if she was telling a bedtime story—she spoke of the lush gardens surrounding the Sakura Palace and the cherry blossoms surrounding it. She spoke of the temple itself and its beauty, with golden accents and a scent of incense within. These images painted a wonderfully serene vision, untainted by the horrors of his past.

His healing would take some time, but now? 

Now, he had a chance to be whole once more.

#original writing #original content #writeblr #original story #writers on tumblr #gore cw #blood cw #violence cw

[true-blue-sonic]

Do you have any opinions on Honey the Cat? She’s probably one of my biggest candidates for “characters from scrapped/discontinued media that I wish could appear in the mainline”. Plus her fashion designer gimmick could make for more merch opportunities and even her basic get-up is adorable.

Honey's one of those characters I really don't have a strong opinion on, I'm afraid. From what I can recall of Post-SGW!Archie, she had like a hidden agenda and stuff amidst that fighting tournament hosted by Breezie? It's a character that could be interesting, though perhaps Dodon Pa also kind of ticks that box, haha. Though, I think it'd be cute if we ever got the Avatar from Forces back again and there was some lore/background info about their clothing related to Honey! Even if I'm not sure if that was an Archie invention or if that is information from Sonic the Fighters/her Fighting Fighters counterpart; if it's the former, I do heavily doubt they'll refer to it in a later game considering the way things between Archie and Sega seemed to have ended. But regarding her in Archie, I did find it an interesting concept that they took obscure characters from the various earliest Sonic media and really fleshed them out. In that way, I can appreciate that they did such a thing for Honey as well!

#I looked her up on the wifi and it mentioned the angel wings on the back of her dress and I had overlooked them completely lol #honey the cat

[nobrainerdubai]

The Trauma of the Deranged Superhero

Life Without Superpowers

Hi, my name is Daniel and I am not a superhero (yet). I live in New York City, in the middle of the crowded and loud city center, a city suffering from insomnia. No matter what time it is, either day or night, one could hear the noise of cars, police sirens, and people hustling around. Sometimes they are chatting and laughing and sometimes you just hear cries, anger, pain, and anguish. I live in my trashy studio apartment, you can call it a junk box, where I just step off my bed, and BAM! I am in the shit station. While sitting on the toilet seat you could easily see the kitchen sink and water dripping from the tap, actually, you could almost see the whole apartment. My cat Mew, yawning in the corner, we share a similar fate, desperation, and rejection from society. Well, so, you must have had an idea of the mansion I live in and the surrounding around me. Since my childhood, I was different, a loner. I didn't have friends, I was never a people person. I always loved to live in my own world, doing my own thing. However, I had a passion, I have always been fascinated by comics, comic art, superheroes, and villains. I used to love Superman, Batman, Spiderman, and Hulk (trust me I am not an anti-feminist) actually, Wonderwoman was one of my favorites. I love both Marvel and DC, but if somebody asks me which one is better, I never had the answer. However, sometimes I do get influenced by the superhero flick that's hitting the theatres with huge hype It always fascinated me how a cloaked superhero arrives from nowhere and without any hunger for self-gain, helps humanity (Do they deserve to be saved? I am not sure!) and saves them from the evil of the universe. (Sometimes it's hard for me to distinguish between good and evil) Blast from the past, my dad got me a Superman costume, and I remember, I used to wear it all the time and everywhere until the blue turned grey. But still, I can't say that I loved Spiderman any less. A not very long time ago, in my teenage years, I fell in love with Archie Comics, but the passion went away with my teens. As I was, crazy-ass and passionate about comics, I decided to make it my profession. You know that if you love what you do for a living, it never feels like working for your whole life So, there starts the journey of my unsuccessful life without superpowers

The Superhero Dream

When I was a kid, I used to create my own superheroes and villains. In my dreams or thoughts, I used to imagine their powers and weaknesses. Sometimes a full plot, a supervillain attacking the world to conquer everything. And then a hero comes along and destroys him (Or her, again, I am not an anti-feminist) Initially, I kept my dream to myself but when I successfully failed high school I revealed my amazing dream to my parents. Mom! Dad! I wanna be a comic artist! and for that, I don't have to go to college. My parents got extremely excited and happy, they could not believe that their son is so courageous to follow his dreams WELL, I WISH!! I was 18 already, so I left my home and moved to my mansion in New York City. But I had to survive, so, on a part-time basis, I started working in a restaurant that was designed on a superhero and comics theme, I loved the ambiance, but the painful part was that every day I had to wake up at 5 in the morning as I was the chosen one, holder of the restaurant key. My boss, the head waiter, enjoys yelling at me for no reason, I had to wash filthy dishes and broom the floor But whenever I get out of the filthy place (after a day full of bone-wrecking hard work and humiliation) and look up to the sky, (IT'S A BIRD, IT'S A PLANE, NOOOO! IT'S SUPERMAN!!!), I feel that my glorious fate is waiting for me. My superhero will be the greatest superhero of all time.

The Birth of a Superhero

Despite all these thoughts, dreams, and passion, I was never able to figure out the special superpower, name, and costume of my superhero. It seemed like all the good ones were already taken. But still, I never lost hope I entered my apartment, and there, my cat Mew, crawling between my legs, maybe she was hungry or maybe alone like me. She was actually a stray, I fed her once and she decided to stay, and I also needed company. My high school sweetheart, Jenny, left when I told her about my dream, she thought I was crazy. I grabbed a box of half-eaten spaghettis and poured some milk for Mew, while I was imagining something big. Something larger than life...... Suddenly, something amazing struck my head, I picked up my drawing board and started pouring my thoughts and imagination on a white paper sheet. Mew was staring at me as I was a lunatic, and, maybe I was...... But I kept working, I didn't wanna lose my thoughts, or let them vanish in the air like fragments of burnt paper Finally, there he was, My Superhero, "THE DEMON KING", a man possessed by The King Demon, the ruler of the Demon Tribe, the father of Meliodas and Zeldris, two of the most powerful demons ever. He was more powerful than the most powerful. The one who controls all the demons............... The thought of him feared me, I felt a chilling cold fear running through my spine. But that was it, "THE DEMON KING", he is not good, he is not bad, he is just there to maintain balance in the universe As you know good and evil both cannot survive without each other, actually, they complement each other, and since the beginning of time they exist together but in a balanced way And, The Demon King is the one who is maintaining all the balance but had never revealed himself to the world, but now was the time when he felt that he needs to be known and the world needs to know him, recognize him as their savior, THE SUPERHERO! Now the costume, what color? RED? after all he is a demon, but that would be too pretentious and villainous, let's make it green or blue. What will be his second identity? who will he possess? After all, he had to live among humans (Who are no less evil and ugly from the inside) For that very moment, I imagined that I was his human identity, and his human name would be Daniel, who was walking in the graveyard and got possessed by the demon What the hell, think man think!! Same old crappy 80's horror movie plot! Like if a demon wants to possess anyone, it will wait for them to come to the graveyard. Really silly! Right? I kept on thinking about so many plots here and there, got tired, and crashed on my bed with my drawing board on my chest but my last thought was, that I must maintain the balance!

The Demon King

My life taught me how filthy people can be. There is nothing wrong or right in the world, it's just grey and you need to decide what you consider black or white. Now, I was ready to maintain balance in this filthy disgusting world. It was my destiny My mother always used to tell me, that if a man is committed enough to do something without fear of loss, in my case, death, then he can change the world. Now I understood what she meant. I took out my green outfit, wore it, and looked at myself in the mirror. After all this time, I realized, that I was the superhero

A Curse or a Destiny!

It was midnight, in my apartment, a dark cackle filled the room as I stood over the terrified villain, tied on the chair, half-conscious, wounded, with a piece of cloth in his mouth, breathing hoarsely. My knife was drawn and pointed directly at his throat. He was just one of many that had been planning to take control of planet Earth. I had already resolved my issues with the others and they got what they deserved. A sinister smile spread across my face when I looked into his eyes pleading for mercy before he closed them tightly in fear. Then he fainted..... He was the last one, then my job in this city is over and I will wander somewhere else, where things are out of balance He woke up with a cry, shivering with pain, trembling, and helpless. With fear in his drowned eyes, he begged me to spare his life Oh, It felt so good, I was the master of his fate. I felt so powerful, more than the most powerful, The Demon King! Now, who is crazy, Jenny? Without a second thought, I slit his throat with my knife and kept looking at him until he bled to death The balance prevails, The Demon King lives! It was hard work for me, it's not an easy job when you have the responsibility to roam the world and find the shitheads in every corner, who are trying to destroy humanity and disrupt the balance of the universe. I had to finish my job, but it was a never-ending journey. A curse or a destiny!   Check out our article"The Agonizing Reincarnation of Broken Warrior" Read the full article

[thot-writes]

OMG HI LILLY HOW R U I LOVE UR CONTENT SM MWUAHHH🥰🥰

I was wondering if I could request a house husband levi fic?👁 I just crave some fluff w this man and Ik he’d def be the best house husband 😩🥰🥰🥰

OMG HI QUEEN IM ACKSHUALLY NOT DOING TOO WELL BUT THIS MESSAGE MADE ME FEEL BETTER SO THANK U 💕💕💖💖🥺 OF COURSE I CAN WRITE HOUSEHUSBAND LEVI FOR U!!! i actually went a little buckwild .... i was possessed by a domestic cottagecore demon im sorry...

also in this levi is injured but he doesn’t need a wheelchair. 

you and levi live a cottagecore dream after the war 💕;

When the war with Marley ended and the cycle of Titans was finally brought to a close, Levi was only too happy to hang up his uniform and marry you.

You’d been together for years at that point, but with one problem often being replaced with another twice it’s size, you vowed to get married in happier days. Once those days came, you wasted no time.

The ceremony was held on a bright spring day, absolutely festooned with florals and far more grandiose than anyone would have expected of the former Captain (really, he was catering to you). Levi shed a tear when he saw you, scarcely able to believe the day he’d been wishing for had finally come. You bore no such subtlety, you broke down in tears and blabbered on about how beautiful he was and how much you loved him. It was entirely too embarrassing, but his joy was immeasurable.

Soon after, you said your goodbyes to everyone and left Paradis for a faraway country. You settled in an idyllic little town and bought a cottage, and Levi chose to maintain the home while you searched for work. It didn’t take long before you found some as a guard — and your combat expertise only aided your quick climb to guard-captain. It was a cushy job close to home, far less dangerous than the Scouts, and earned you a pretty sum to boot, what else was there to wish for?

Despite it nearing close to five years since you left Paradis, Levi has only managed to look younger than when you first met, annoyingly enough. Perhaps it was the presence of a decent sleeping schedule, or the lack of threats from Titans. Hell, the only thing you had to fear these days was your favourite tea brand discontinuing or the occasional burglar. And of course the night terrors... but you always managed to get each other through that. You even got pets -- perish the thought! A slovenly, overly active but loveable mutt and an elegantly antisocial cat. Levi often said you took after the dog, and you’d retort by saying he was like the cat.

Your days passed in peace. Levi spent his time cleaning the house, caring for the garden, walking the dog, and drinking tea while perusing a new novel with the cat curled up in his lap. You’d be hard at work day in and day out, leaving at six in the morning and returning at five in the evening, and your ever-faithful husband would have a warm meal waiting for you when you returned.

You trod down the lichened cobblestone pathway towards the warm, welcoming home before you. It’s fall, so the sun has started setting earlier than usual, bathing the cottage in golden light as the breeze carries fallen leaves of merigold and spice through the air. Your Labrador retriever, Archie, jumps up from his sleeping position and runs over to greet you. You smile and tousle the dark brown fur on his head.

You open the door and are greeted with the rich scent of roast meat and vegetables. “Dear sweet husband, your beloved wife has returned!” you call out. Levi emerges from the kitchen with a tea towel in his hand and a deadpan look.

“Do you seriously have to greet me like that every time you come home?” he asks.

“Yes!” you answer, not skipping a beat. “I’m waiting for the day you greet me with ‘welcome home, my love! What do you want first; dinner, a bath, or me?’”

He tosses the towel at your face and you yelp in surprise. “Like I’d do that. We’re not newlyweds anymore.”

You pout childishly at him. “You didn’t do it even when we were newlyweds...”

“You’re supposed to be forty, aren’t you?” 

“Forty-one, thank you, but you’d never know it. People keep thinking I’m way younger at work! I tell you, our kids are going to age even better than we have with our genes combined.”

Ah yes, kids. You’ve talked about having them for some time, although you haven’t tried to conceive yet. Well, not that you haven’t tried not conceiving either... you never use protection anymore.

So it should come as no surprise that you’ve fallen pregnant. In fact, the surprise lies with the fact it hasn’t happened sooner. Levi doesn’t know, since you only just found out yourself. You haven’t had any of the usual symptoms, but today at a doctor’s appointment he informed you that you’re indeed with child.

Levi rolls his eyes as he takes your coat off and hangs it up. “If our brats are anything like you I’ll probably die early,” he says casually. “Anyway, dinner’s ready, let’s eat so you can have a bath already. You stink.”

You grin and wrap your arms around him. “Oh nooo, now you stink too! We’re gonna have to bathe together oh man I’m so upset!”

He wriggles in your grasp but his efforts falter when you start kissing him all over. Once he manages to push you off you sit at the table and eat dinner together. You secretly feed some meat to the dog, but Levi notices and cusses you out -- he’s already been fed, he’s going to get fat he tells you.

Once the food has been put away and the dishes cleaned, Levi runs a bath for you. You pester him to join you and he reluctantly gives in. You lean against the porcelain tub and he sits between your legs, his back to your chest and your arms cradling him close. It’s so soothing he could fall asleep, but he wants to spend more time with you so he wills the urge away.

You tell him about your day. How you stopped a caravan robbery, how your boss hassled you, how you trained the recruits. He tells you about his in turn, and you listen intently. When out for a walk, Archie chased a rabbit and led Levi down a path he didn’t know and got him lost. The cat knocked over one of Levi’s favourite teapots and broke it. In the book he’s reading, the protagonist commits murder for no discernable reason (which caused him to promptly throw the book into the fireplace). 

After you finish talking and lamenting about your days, you decide to bring up the news you’d learned just hours earlier... But how should you? Is it enough to just say ‘by the way, I’m pregnant’? Should you wait and plan a day around it?

You shake those thoughts off and take a deep breath. “I actually... went to the doctor’s today.”

Levi looks back at you. “And?”

“Well. He told me something.”

He scowls. “I imagine he tells lots of people somethings.”

You lock your gaze with his and cup a hand to his scarred cheek. “He said that I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widen as the world around him goes blurry. Pregnant? You? Children? Finally? He can’t believe it. Is it even possible to be this happy? Is he dead? Everything just seems so... perfect. He thought he was far too happy before, but the feeling he has now blows that out of the water.

He can’t even tell, he’s too far in his own mind, but tears start flowing down his cheeks. His hand finds your stomach and it’s like he can’t breathe. There’s a life forming in there right now, a life that you and he made, something that will cry and laugh and love just like you have. Something that will be here even after you’re gone.

You start feeling anxious at his wordlessness. You wipe his tears away and call his name, and he seems to snap back into reality. 

Levi can think of no other words to say than, “We’re going to need a bigger house.”

You smile at him, and he smiles back -- a rare thing for him to do even these days. Habit, you suppose. You kiss and hold each other until the steamy water turns lukewarm.

Against Levi’s wishes, you work until the very last minute of your pregnancy and give birth to a set of twins in the spring. Both boys.

Initially, Levi thought he was too old for child-rearing, but his energy only seemed to double once you welcomed your children into the world. You took a few months off of work to spend with your family, but once you’ve all settled into normalcy you decide to return. Over the next months you move into a larger place and manage to squeeze a raise out of your boss (not that you really need it, but you want to spoil your family). Your friends send you gifts to celebrate your new home and your sons, and despite the lack of sleep slowly eating away at you you couldn’t be happier.

The love Levi has for his sons, and for you, only grows each passing day. He often thinks to himself that if he had to endure all the nightmares, all the suffering, and all the death over again just so he could make it back here -- he would do so. 

And he’d have absolutely no regrets.

#levi x reader #my posts #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fluff #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot scenarios #aot fluff #snk x reader #snk scenarios #snk imagines #snk fluff #reader insert #reader input #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader

[archies-litterbox]

of poison, forest floors, and terrified wizards

Summary: Out all alone on what was meant to be a simple errand, collecting herbs for Merlin, Douxie is downed when some pickpocket throws a fistful of black powder in his face - a magic surpressant and poison to wizards, he comes to find out the hard way. Unable to move or use his magic, as attempts to do both cause nothing but agony, the moppet has no choice but to rely on the slim hope of someone finding him before the poison overtakes him.

A/N: This is my first toa fic! I’ve spent the past year mostly just doing fic for witcher, so this is a nice change of pace :) I had fun with this! I thought about what would happen if there was some sort of substance in TOA that acted as a poison/magic surpressant to wizards... and ofc it turned into douxie whump (but it’s moppet!douxie which is even more painful :( ). Enjoyyy!

[CW: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Poisoning/Sickness, Temporary Paralysis, blood mention (but no bleeding)]

---

All Douxie had been sent out to do was collect some herbs for Merlin. It wasn’t even in the uncertain ground like the Wild Wood, but a patch of forest he’d been sent to fetch ingredients from countless times. It should have been a simple enough task for the moppet, which is why he hadn’t woken Archie from his afternoon nap - which he was taking on Douxie’s bed - to have his familiar accompany him. And truly, the task itself was simple; it didn’t take Douxie very long at all to go into the woods and find a patch of the plants Merlin told him to fetch - something about a potion ingredient, the apprentice vaguely recollected.

Indeed, he found it without any trouble, but when he felt a figure speed past his back and steal away the little pouch of herbs he’d collected before speeding off into the woods, that was when the trouble started.

The rational part of him (which said exactly what he’d reckoned Archie would be telling him right now) told him just to pick more, but it was overshadowed by how downright insulting this woodland pickpocket was! Before he’d been taken in by Merlin, conning and using slight-of-hand to his advantage was one of his only means of survival, so to not only be stolen from, but in a way so lacking in cunning? The audacity!

It was the principal of the matter that sent him running after the thief, darting this way and that until he was lost in the thick of the woods, focused only on tailing the pickpocket.

“Hey! Stop!” Douxie panted, “You’re stealing from a master wizard!”

That didn’t seem to entice the thief to stop.

“Well… his apprentice, anyway!” he added for reasons unsure to even himself. Maybe honesty would help?

Well, thanks to his trusty, gangly legs, he caught up to the thief and got close enough to grab their wrist, and he thought it would be smooth sailing after that.

Yeah! Alright! I’ll just get my herbs back and deal with this thief and -

The thief turned around and threw a handful of black powder in his face.

Fuzzbuckets.

Douxie squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he felt them sting, coughing into his elbow to hack up the charcoal tasting powder that flew into his mouth and nose. That little trick stopped him in his tracks, but he wasn’t deterred. Not mentally. He still wanted to try to catch up… 

...but his legs wouldn’t move.

No matter how badly he wanted - demanded his legs to obey him, they remained tense, frozen in that position of one in front of the other.

What?

One terrifying moment later, they did move. But not into the sprint he wanted to take - no, to do something worse: to buckle underneath him and send him falling onto his side against the forest floor. 

And he couldn’t get up.

No matter how much he willed his body to do it, he couldn’t get up.

It was like when he’d have nightmares and he’d realize he was having a nightmare; it took forcing his body to toss and turn and shift from side to side as much as he could to rouse him back to the realm of the fully conscious.

But he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t rouse himself from this nightmare because he couldn’t push himself up.

Wait.

No.

He couldn’t move.

Nearing complete panic, he internally begged and pleaded to find some sort of mobility, but his limbs grew numb by the second, and wherever he still had feeling, it ached - utterly, reprehensibly ached. Not only that, but it was cold. So, so cold, despite the warm atmosphere of the summer afternoon that hung around him so tauntingly.

He’d never felt more scared in his life. Not even being threatened at swordpoint by Sir Galahad and his men, knowing that he’d be killed for something like a measly alley trick, was as terrifying as this - not even that made his blood run cold (literally, it felt like, as well as figuratively) like this did.

And he was sure that was clear to the thief he’d tried to catch. They stood over him, and he couldn’t see their face from where his head lay on the ground, cheek against the grass, but with his glassy, wide eyes flickering between straining to look at his poisoner - because that’s what this was, a poison -  and darting around wherever they could look without him moving his head - because he couldn’t even do that - as black strands of hair lay loose on his cheek because he couldn’t lift a hand to move them, he was sure looked every bit as terrified as he felt.

The thief laughed. Laughed.

“A master wizard’s apprentice, eh?” they spoke, their voice dripping with mock fascination that made Douxie wish that someone, anyone would come to help him, “And your great master never told you to pick your battles? He must not have, if you felt so inclined as to chase me all through the woods for a plant you could have just picked a little more of. It was right in front of you, after all.”

The realization which dawned on Douxie would have made his blood run cold if it didn’t feel like it already was. They’d pickpocketed him because they counted on him pursuing them, even to the point of ending up in the thick of the woods, far away from where Merlin or Archie expected him to be - far away from where they’d know to look for him.

Douxie finally tried to shout for help, but his throat was just as tense - as frozen as the rest of his muscles, and his jaw was too tight to open as much as he’d need to scream. All he could do was gasp and force shuddering breaths in and out of his lungs, which was still a trying ordeal - too trying for something like breathing to have been.

“Trying to scream? Really?” the poisoner-thief asked as if it was an absurd thing to do in the moppet’s position (which it wasn’t), “Next thing you know, you’ll try mustering a spell.”

Against his better judgement, for trying a spell couldn’t have been a good idea if his own assailant was suggesting it, he tried to force a little magic to his fingertips.

It burned. Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, it burned. His hand hadn’t even hurt this badly after he’d botched a lightning spell and scarred his wrist in the process.

Douxie wheezed at the sensation, and the thief laughed again.

“Oh, this is rich!” they exclaimed, “this has already paralyzed you hand and foot, and you thought some conjuring would help? What do you think this was made to diminish, Apprentice of Ambrosius?

Douxie couldn’t even think of a swear worthy of this (“fuzzbuckets” was too tame), his mind still flooded with fear and his hand still aching from his botched magic attempt. How had they already known he was Merlin’s apprentice? Sure, he’d mentioned being an apprentice to a master wizard, but he wasn’t that specific.

But he wasn’t worried about that as much as what this implied about his magic, and what this - whatever it had been - was doing to it.

“This,” His assailant bent down and held up their fingertips to his face, showing him the black powder on them. “Seeps away your magic. Or poisons it, or diminishes it, or eats away at it - I’m not a poet, and apt synonyms aren’t my strong suit.”

They stood back up all the way, and Douxie wanted to plead, but the words wouldn’t come out. They wouldn’t even form. This - he couldn’t lose his magic. Not on something as measly as an herb collection.

“All of this-”

They gestured to his paralyzed, twitching form.

“Is just a side effect. A byproduct of attacking your magic.”

Douxie tried curling his hand into a fist. Not only were his muscles so weak that he could only curl his fingers for a second in what looked more like a spasm than a conscious movement, but grabbing the wrong end of a knife would have hurt less.

The powder-tosser winced mock-sympathetically.

“Shame, really. I hoped the master wizard you served could be the one to deal with this.”

For a moment, in his agony, he wished he was. Douxie squandered the thought as quickly as it came up, hating himself for conceiving it. He couldn’t wish this on anyone, least of all the wizard who saved him, who plucked him off the streets.

But why couldn’t he save him now?

“Ah, well.” They reached down to Douxie’s face and put a strand of hair behind his ear.

Douxie wanted to cry.

“S’pose you’ll do. It’ll be a kick in the teeth for him anyway, when you don’t come back from your little errand after hours and hours, and by the time they send out a search party…”

The smugness and certainty in their tone made Douxie whimper, the first vocal noise he’d been able to make in all of this, after naught but wheezing and gasping. Where was he going to get dragged off to? The Wild Wood? Were they in league with trolls, hoping to get an edge on King Arthur? Or were they a bandit, hoping to take all his goods off of him (which weren’t much, unless they counted the black cat fur on his vest) and keep him in some rackety shack until a ransom note made its way to Merlin?

(Would he even pay it, considering Douxie’s incompetence?)

“Well, they’ll find you right here, I’m sure, but…”

Douxie could hear them mock-wince again, and their implication was worse than anything he’d assumed in the moments before. He couldn’t hear the rest of their sentence over his own panic that, combined with the poison, made his head swim.

He wasn’t going to be taken anywhere.

He was going to be left here, to - to - to - 

His panic pushed him to try his magic again on impulse alone, and it felt like both his hands were on fire. His throat, as tight as it was, finally let him groan through his teeth.

“An exercise in futility, little wizard.” his attacker taunted, “In fact…”

They took his bracelet - only three fingers wide at this point in his training - right off his wrist, which made him squeak as he tried, tried, tried to shake his head, and threw it into a bush in what was both further assurance of his powerlessness and an insult to injury.

“I would say you should try to get comfortable…” 

They stood up and took a few steps back, leaving the little field of vision Douxie had from where his head lay on the ground.

“...But I suppose that would be another exercise in futility.”

He heard the poisoner-thief run off, their footfalls fading as the pounding of his racing heart, which drummed against his ears in sync with their steps, drowned out the noise until they were out of earshot.

He was alone.

He couldn’t move, some poison was seeping away his magic - his very lifeforce - and tensed his body up so rigidly that he couldn’t even scream, and he was alone.

If he could’ve, he would have curled up into a ball as small as he could make himself in hopes that the dangers of the woods and the dire circumstances of his situation would pass him by.

If he could’ve, he would have screamed, even though he knew he was far away from the earshot of anyone who might have come looking for him by that patch of herbs where he said he’d go, and he knew that Archie, who could have tracked his scent here, was still sleeping because, in his arrogance, he hadn’t thought to wake him.

If he could’ve, he would have dragged himself to his gauntlet, wherever it had been thrown, because even if it wouldn’t have done anything to get him out of this, at least he wouldn’t have felt so helpless, even though helpless was exactly what he was.

But he couldn’t.

All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and feel his tears run down the bridge of his nose as his lips contorted into a grimace, the only two things he could do with his body where the movement itself didn’t outweigh how badly he wanted - needed to do it.

All he could hope for, against hope itself, was that he’d be found here.

Before all that could be found was his body.

---

He wished he could just sleep.

The grassy ground underneath him was soft enough, and his position on his side could have been comfortable enough. Maybe it would have helped pass the time until the poison ran its course, whatever that entailed.

But whatever this was, it didn’t even grant him that luxury. Whether it was an effect of the poison or a product of his own adrenaline and terror, Douxie was wide awake.

Not only that, but after what might have been an hour or two (judging by the sunlight’s reflection off the dewey grass), his body would periodically twitch because of the poison. Sometimes his leg would kick out like a dog, or his shoulder would seize up to the point where it touched his ear, or his hand would ball into a fist.

But his poisoned body didn’t care which of his movements were voluntary or otherwise - it stung all the same. Not like the horrific burning that came with his attempts at magic, but a grating, awful ache right down to his bones. The spontaneous twitches never let him even come close to unconsciousness, and maybe that was a good thing - every breath was more or less of a laborious gasp, a conscious effort of his, and if he’d lost consciousness and stopped forcing them in and out of his lungs… he didn’t want to imagine it.

He wished his panic would quiet enough for him to get bored laying here - he would have preferred it to this, and it would have made sense, considering that he was stuck staring at the same blades of grass and patch of trees that he’d been staring at for the past hour.

And they weren’t even particularly interesting trees or blades of grass, not that they would have distracted him very well if they were.

He wondered if anyone had started looking for him by now. Maybe Merlin was growing impatient without the ingredients he asked for, and maybe Morgana had started to wonder why “Little Douxie” hadn’t come back to the castle.

He wondered if Archie had woken up from his nap and noticed Douxie’s absence yet. If anyone could insist that someone go out and search for him, it would be his familiar. He didn’t want to delude himself by thinking it would help though.

He wondered the importance of those herbs he was collecting before. Were they really that important to whatever Merlin had been working on? Were they worth chasing that thief down? Were they worth all of this?

He was pulled from his thoughts when a shadow cast over the grass he’d been staring at - the shadow of a creature flying overhead and hovering above him.

If he could’ve curled into himself, just to look as small as possible, he would have. What if it was a vulture, waiting to scavenge him? What if it was a monster, or a winged troll, here to carry him off to some trollish nest in the Wild Wood? None of the thoughts that came to mind were soothing by any means. As the creature swooped down, all Douxie could do was squeeze his eyes shut and hope he wouldn’t be harmed any further.

Even when the figure landed in front of him and stepped closer and closer, he didn’t look at it. It wasn’t until he could feel it’s breath on his face, one of the only sensations of the past few hours that didn’t hurt, that he opened his eyes.

A face of black fur greeted him.

And yellow eyes.

And a round pair of glasses.

Archie!

He couldn’t even say the word, but a sob escaped his throat - a sob of relief? A sob of terror that this might have been the start of an onslaught of hallucinations, the first of which being a sign of rescue? He wasn’t sure. Either way, all he wanted to do was reach up and pet the cat-dragon familiar, or hug him and not let go, but he couldn’t. His arm felt like it weighed half a ton, just like the rest of his limbs.

So, he sobbed. It was all he could do.

“Douxie!” Archie cried.

Merlin’s apprentice could hear the worry in his voice as he stepped back a few paces, his ears back and his wings to his side. Of course, he’d shifted into his dragon form - he must have been able to track Douxie’s scent like that. But Douxie hated the thought of his familiar being in danger because he’d flown here. He was already suspicious enough as a black cat, since they carried the notion of being bad omens. What if he’d gotten taken down? He wasn’t worth that!

Douxie was too relieved - yes, he chose relief, not terror, because that’s all he could afford - to think about all of that though.

“Douxie, I’ve been looking for you! What’s happened to you?” Archie asked, “Merlin expected you back hours ago!”

The first thing that came to mind, despite everything, was an apology for his absence - an apology he couldn’t even say. He couldn’t even say what happened to him, not like -

A spasm cut off from his speeding, scrambled thoughts - a large one in his left arm (his right was still mostly underneath him) that reached all the way from his fingertips to his shoulderblade, forcing his hand to ball into a fist, his arm to fold so tightly that his fist touched his shoulder, and his shoulder to tighten so much that his shoulder pressed to his ear.

The sound of agony ripped from his throat was the closest to a scream he’d gotten yet.

Archie looked horrified, and Douxie could only imagine what the sight of him was like - black strands loose from his bun strewn over his face, his eyes puffy and tear-ringed, his lips contorted in a pained grimace. He imagined he looked as pitiful and helpless as he felt.

(In fact, he didn’t have to imagine it. He could faintly see his reflection in the lenses of Archie’s glasses, and he was right in what he pictured, save for the addition of smudges and speckles of that powder still on his face, the black splotches of dust contrasting his color-drained skin, pale as death.)

His arm relaxed again after a few agonizing moments, letting his hand fall in front of his face and leaving a throbbing ache down to his bones, and Douxie tried to collect himself. He had to tell Archie what was wrong. He had to try. If Archie knew, he could fix it. He could get Merlin to fix it. Right? Right.

“P-” he started, trying his absolute best to form words despite the constriction in his throat and lungs that barely let him breathe at all, “puh- poi-”

His own wheezing cough cut him off.

“Poison?” Archie asked, getting it right much to the little relief that Douxie could manage. He nodded - at least, as close to the motion as he could accomplish - and tried to hum a “mhm” of affirmation, since trying to talk hadn’t exactly worked. Far from it.

Archie stepped forward and sniffed his face. He immediately recoiled, his big eyes widening, and Douxie was proven wrong for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

“Oh, dear.” His eyes glanced to what must have been a few more clumps and speckles of dust on the ground, “Ohhh, not good. Not good at all.”

No. Archie couldn’t be scared. If Archie was scared for him, then this was so, so much worse than he thought. How could it possibly be worse?

Douxie squeaked out a whimper in fear, and Archie’s attention snapped back to him (as if it could have been anywhere else).

“Douxie, don’t worry.” he said, “You’ll be alright.”

Archie was never a good liar, much to Douxie’s dismay. If Archie was going to hide the truth to soothe him, he at least would’ve liked it to work. His immediately telling Douxie not to worry had the opposite effect of what was intended; it showed him his worry - his terror - was entirely warranted, which was the exact thing he didn’t want to know. Even if all he said was “You’ll be alright.”, the fear that seemed to bristle through his fur was indication enough of the contrary.

Archie’s eyebrows, indicated by the grey patches in the fur above his eyes, upturned as if in dread.

“...But I need to go.”

NO!

If Douxie could have screamed the word and reached out to hold Archie, he would have done it right at that moment, but all he could do was whine like a kicked puppy, his eyebrows raising as his head shook - an unconscious movement, minute despite his desperation.

“Douxie, Douxie, listen.” Archie said, softening his voice, “I can’t carry you back to the castle. I wouldn't be able to fly carrying you anyway, but especially not with your-”

Archie got cut off by another one of Douxie’s spasms - this one made his left leg curl up so tight that his thigh touched his torso, causing the apprentice to nearly involuntarily hit Archie with his knee, which the cat-dragon barely dodged.

“-that." Archie said, "Not with that.”

Douxie saw the sense in that, despite his panic. He did, he did, he did.

But - 

He sobbed again.

-But he didn’t want to be alone.

Sweet heart of Avalon, he didn’t want to be alone. 

The worst of his pain and terror wasn’t from the paralysis, or the aching, or the random twitches, or the burning that came from trying to use his magic, or even the tightness in his throat and lungs that robbed him of speaking or even screaming; it came from being alone in this - from wondering if anyone would come for him, or find his body; it came from knowing that there was nothing he could do but lay there, at the mercy of nature, the poison wracking his body with every beat of his heart, and the determination (or lack thereof) of someone else to find him.

And when he opened his eyes to find Archie there, all of that went away - all of that fear that told him he’d die alone here. He didn’t want it to come back. He would’ve rather the poison take him right now.

“I just need to go back to the castle and bring Merlin here. He’ll know what to do.”

Archie put his paw in Douxie’s limp, open palm. All Douxie wanted to do was hold it, and he so desperately hoped the next twitch would be in his hand so he could.

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

But what if it was too long, even if he hurried?

What if Merlin was too late, even if he hurried?

What if it took too long to convince his master to come here? Would the fact that he’d been poisoned and needed help be enough, or would Merlin refuse because it served Douxie right for his insolence?

(No, no, he wouldn’t do that. Merlin said that mastery over magic was mastery over life, and he had to learn how to live. He couldn’t learn to live if he died here in the woods.)

What if… 

What if this killed him before Archie came back?

...No.

It wasn’t the same this time. Douxie wasn’t lost here, hoping against hope that someone would find him. This was hope - someone knew where he was, and help would come. He could handle a little bit more fear for that hope, he knew.

So, fighting the grating, awful ache in his bones, Douxie closed his hand around Archie’s paw and put on as brave a face he found himself able to muster, nodding as much as he could while causing as little pain to himself as possible.

He didn’t trust much in this - not even his own body to keep fighting the poison - but he trusted Archie, and he trusted his promise.

His familiar gently pulled his paw away before slipping it under the side of Douxie’s head, lifting it a little off the ground. The little apprentice was confused for a moment, until Archie reached behind Douxie’s head with his mouth. He could hear the sounds of the woods stifle as fabric came over his ears, warding off the now-coolness of the woodsy air around his head as Archie pulled the hood of his vest over his head and gingerly laid it back down.

Ah, he got it now - it was a little comfort, a little shelter from the world.

And of course he took it, hoping his eyes conveyed his gratitude.

He kept up his brave front as Archie turned away from him, something Douxie could tell he’d done reluctantly, and flew off. It wasn’t until he couldn’t see his familiar anymore - until the sight of the cat-dragon vanished behind the treetops - that he let it fall and shatter.

He just had to keep waiting. That��s all he had to do - wait and trust Archie to come back with Merlin. He knew that.

But he could still feel new tears come down his face.

---

Douxie wished he could see the sunset from where he lay. It would have been beautiful, he knew.

The spasms subsided a little while after Archie flew back, leaving Douxie limp on the ground - still unable to move without hurting himself or try to use his magic without thrusting himself into agony - with a lingering pins-and-needles sensation in his hands and feet that felt like it was crawling up from his ankles and wrists.

(Honestly, Douxie still wasn’t sure if the spasms had truly subsided for good, or if this was just a rather long interval between them. He hoped it was the former. The spasms never hurt any less as they went on, and he was so, so tired of the pain.)

Archie still hadn’t come back with Merlin yet, obviously, and at this point, it seemed like Douxie was fighting off his doubt more than the poison. At least he knew what the poison was doing to him - he could feel it every waking moment. But Archie… Douxie didn’t know what had happened to him, and he wouldn’t unless he came back.

(No, until he came back. Douxie had to keep that certainty alive in his mind.)

But how was he supposed to know that his familiar hadn’t taken a tumble? That he hadn’t been brought down by some witch hunter’s net? What if Merlin was being stubborn about coming for him? What if he’d been busy in another row with King Arthur?

...Indeed, he would have loved to see the sunset - to at least try to let it distract him from the tornado of worst case scenarios in his mind.

But he couldn’t.

For a bit, he tried distracting himself by thinking about how Merlin might’ve reacted to him being in danger - to hearing that he’d been poisoned. He sort of liked imagining how scared he’d be, for he preferred fear to indifference. The mental image of his master dropping whatever book he’d been flipping through and rushing to follow Archie… it was a comforting one, as strange as it might sound. That fear meant he mattered.

But Douxie soon grew tired even of that. He hoped he might’ve ran into a patch frequented by fireflies. Those would at least come low enough to dip into his line of sight, and they were always so beautiful, like stars visiting earth for a night before going back to the sky…

Douxie grew cold again at some point. Not just cold, but damp. Since it hadn’t started raining, fortunately, he rightly assumed that it was sweat. Perhaps he was finally sweating this out, like a fever, but that was too good, too fortunate to figure. This was another progression of the poison, he was sure. Just like…

Douxie noticed something in his left hand that lay in front of his face, something wrong…

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

His veins were black. 

Hoping, begging, praying to be wrong, he pushed through that dreadful ache in his arm so he could pull it closer, but it only confirmed his suspicions - his dread - his terrors.

The veins in his wrist, in the creases of his knuckles - they weren’t deep blue anymore, just barely visible underneath his skin, but as black as that powder that got blown in his face. Ink could be coursing through them right now, and he’d have been none the wiser.

In that moment, Douxie was proven wrong once again for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

He gasped as much as his throat and lungs let him, and he didn’t stop gasping. But then his chest -

No no NO!

-his chest started to seize up.

He fought the growing tightness in his chest with every breath, forcing each one in and out like a wheeze, but it wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t tell if it was from poison or panic, but it wouldn’t go away. He’d even started coughing, which was inevitable, but the black splotch that splattered into his hand terrified him all the more.

This was it. He was going to die here. He was going to succumb to this. He’d never come back to the castle - to Archie, to Morgana, to Merlin - from a trivial herb picking. Archie would come back here, but all he’d find was - was - was -

“HISIRDOUX!”

Douxie burst into tears.

He could recognize the voice of his master - his father - anywhere, but he was so, so scared that it was a hallucination. The fear in his voice already sounded so foreign, coming from the great and powerful Merlin Ambrosius, and if the sound of his voice and his footsteps coming near him came only from his desperate imagination, then he’d - he’d -

A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Finally, he could look up at the sky, aglow with sunset, but his glassy eyes only saw Merlin kneeling down at his side, and Archie flying above him.

The terror in Merlin’s eyes was the exact opposite of comforting, but Douxie didn’t get to see it for long before Merlin conjured a damp cloth and wiped off his face what had to have been the rest of that poisonous powder. He hadn’t realized how flushed he’d been until that moment, when that rag felt so cold against his cheeks.

Merlin finished wiping off Douxie’s face and made the cloth disappear. Douxie missed the coolness on his face. He wanted it back.

“Hisirdoux, say something!” he demanded. But Douxie couldn’t - didn’t Merlin think he would’ve already been screaming his lungs out if he could?

“D-” he choked, “Da-”

He hacked up another throatful of black phlegm, whimpering as the violence of his cough made his torso curl up. Merlin dodged the cough, but put an arm under Douxie’s back before he could fall back.

An apology lay at the back of his throat - one he didn’t know the reason for, even if he could’ve said it.

Merlin brought his other arm behind Douxie’s knees and lifted him like he weighed nothing (and he probably didn’t weigh much to Merlin, being the gangly moppet he was). The edges of the plating of the master wizard’s armor dug against him uncomfortably, but it was the least discomforting thing about this, overshadowed near-completely by the comfort that came just by being held. But he was still scared - if more of that powder was on him, and Merlin touched it by holding him, then -

He stifled a cough, and his leg kicked out unconsciously like a thumping rabbit’s foot. He didn’t realize how badly he’d been tremoring until it was contrasted with the steadiness of Merlin holding him.

Yes… steadiness, safety - two things he’d wanted to cling to more than anything since all this had started. And now, he had them. He had his familiar, and he had his father.

His head, still covered with the hood of his vest, lolled back uncomfortably without any support, but he felt something soft push against the back of it- it was actually Archie, though Douxie couldn’t see it - until the side of his head lay against one of the shoulderpieces of Merlin’s armor, cushioned by the cloth of his hood.

He sighed as much as his tightened chest would allow.

He was so scared.

Douxie was still so, so terrified that Merlin couldn’t save him after all; that he’d die tonight; that he’d never use his magic again; that he’d never get to become a master wizard or get his own staff to wield; that he’d never again get to go back down to the marketplace and talk to that pretty girl who frequented the shops.

(What was her name? Zelda? Zona? Zola? Zo-)

He felt something warm settle on his abdomen - Archie had turned back into a cat and curled up on his tummy, purring as he nestled where Douxie’s legs curled.

At least, despite everything else he feared, he didn’t have to be terrified of being alone anymore.

---

Douxie wasn’t sure if Merlin used a portal, or the relief of being found by his master had finally let him lull out of consciousness for the length of the time it took to be carried back, but the next thing he knew, he was in Merlin’s study. Despite the fluttering of his eyelids, he could recognize the shelves, the desk, and the stained glass window letting in the last light of day.

Home.

He was home.

No matter what happened next, he was home.

“Douxie!” He could hear Morgana’s voice shouting his name in worry, followed immediately by her fast-approaching footsteps.

“Mmh…” Douxie whimpered. It wasn’t clear whether or not the noise was just a pained whine or an attempt to try saying her name - not even to Douxie himself. He couldn’t see her very well, but he could tell when she’d come to them, stepping to the side as Merlin walked forward to his desk.

“Is he alive?” she asked.

“Somehow, yes.” Merlin answered. Douxie hated that “somehow” and the fear it brought, but it was just a little more to add to the onslaught of the past hours. He could just add it to the pile, he supposed.

In the middle of the room, Merlin’s big desk was empty, so the wizard laid him down on the surface, having him lay flat on his back with his hands at his sides, his legs straightened out, and his head facing up. Now, he could fully see Morgana, the sorceress he’d come to see as something of a big sister just as he came to see Merlin as a father, looking down at him. Her face was upside-down from where she stood over him, but he could still see her upturned brows and glistening eyes, and the way she clasped her hands close to her chest so they didn’t even touch him. He hated that look of worry on her face. Seeing Morgana - always fearless, always grasping for more from the world than what others had permitted, always steadfast in her ruthless ambition - look so scared for him… 

...It was worse, if such a thing was possible, than when he saw how scared Merlin was for him, and there was so much he wanted to say, but he was still just focused on trying to breathe as deeply as he could.

Archie got off his abdomen and sat next to his head, gently headbutting his temple before putting a paw on his forehead. It was a little comforting, almost enough to distract Douxie from realizing that Merlin wasn’t at his side anymore.

Almost, though. Not enough.

Douxie tried turning his head to the side, but Archie gently kept it still with his paw.

“He’s just finding a spellbook, Douxie.” he assured, immediately knowing what the apprentice was trying to turn his head for, “He’ll be right back.”

Morgana looked down on the little scene and closed her eyes for a moment, as if to quell her tears, before opening them again.

“You shouldn’t have held him.” she warned, turning her head to wherever Merlin stood now, “You know what that can-”

“I’m well aware.” Merlin interrupted from wherever he still was, “And you know I’ve little concern for that.”

Douxie didn’t understand. There was still so little he understood about whatever was doing this to him, and he didn’t know how to ask about it - he couldn’t.

But apparently, his upturned brows and whimpers of confusion were enough to indicate - at least to Archie - how lost he was.

“Douxie, that powder - it’s called Draining Dust.” Archie explained, “It’s a magic suppressant, and… a poison, as you know by now.”

“Witch hunters would put this in shackles.” Morgana said, finally speaking to him, “To nullify wizards’ and witches’ magic on their way to the gallows. Or the stakes.”

“Trace amounts, yes.” Merlin came back into his view, an open spellbook floating near him with a signature green aura around it, “Pinches of it, cast in the metal. It would suppress the wearer’s magic as long as it was on their body, with a few side effects. Fatigue, headaches, nausea…” he started listing as he flipped through the pages.

Douxie remembered the handful of the stuff that had been thrown in his face. That was far from a few pinches. And those side effects he’d started listing - they sounded tame, menial compared to what was happening to him now.

“But direct contact with raw powder…” Archie started. Douxie knew he was hesitant to finish that sentence, and it wasn’t hard to assume why (but it was terrifying).

“It’s deadly.” Morgana said, “Few wizards have ever survived inhaling or digesting it. More sadistic witchfinders have used that to-”

“Morgana!” Merlin snapped, urging her to leave off. But she didn’t.

“He should know!” she snapped back, “It’s already in his bloodstream, old man. It’s killing him, and he deserves to-”

Douxie started crying again at Morgana’s brutal honesty, as if this all weren’t brutal enough. His eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed down his temples, but when he opened them again, it was darker, like he was looking through a veil. The sight made him want to cry even harder.

It was in his tears.

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, the poison was in his tears.

It made sense now, why Morgana was so scared to touch him. His own body fluids - his blood, his tears, probably his sweat soon enough - were turning poisonous from this. The only reason Archie was still touching him was probably because he wasn’t a wizard, but a familiar, and this wouldn’t affect him so badly.

(It actually very well could have affected Archie for the worse, but watching Douxie endure this without any comfort would have been worse than any poison.)

“It’s not killing him.” Merlin denied as if he was trying to convince both Morgana and himself, “His death is not certain. If it were, I would have already placed a sleeping spell on him by now.”

Douxie clung to that little hope and tried to watch Merlin scan for the spell he’d been looking for. Merlin had a way to fix this, of course he did; it’s as he said - he would have already put Douxie to sleep to grant him some peace if he didn’t.

Douxie watched his master’s page flipping stall as his eyes scanned over one particular page. His face fell - a minute, near-unnoticeable change in expression, but one that made Douxie’s pounding heart sink.

“Merlin?” Archie asked, “Have you found something?”

Merlin said nothing at first, only taking his place by stepping right to the table’s edge, coming right to Douxie’s side.

“I’ve found a spell to expel the poison and it’s remnants,” he explained, still only scanning the book, “But purging it from his body when it’s progressed this far will be…”

His eyes fell on Douxie’s.

“...quite excruciating.”

But Douxie was already so, so tired.

Not physically - the combined force of the poison and his own adrenaline warded off any chance of fatigue - but in his heart. He was so tired of being scared. Of being in so much pain. He didn’t want to do it - he didn’t think he could…

...But he remembered something Merlin said to him before.

“If there is a universal truth in this world, it is that struggle is the flame which forges one’s soul into steel.”

Well, if there was something tougher than steel, that’s what his soul would become.

Because wizards were strong. Brave. Unrelenting to pain or fear. That’s how Merlin was, that’s how Morgana was, and that’s how he would be.

He put on a brave face - as brave as he could possibly muster in the face of what he’d endure - and nodded. He could do this. He had to do this.

And he would.

The green aura around the spellbook faded as Merlin set it down. Archie lifted his paw from Douxie’s head and stepped back a few paces.

“Morgana, keep him still.” Merlin said, “His thrashing may cause him to injure himself.”

Morgana nodded and brought her hands up, an unsaid apology in her eyes. Seconds later, Douxie felt warm, gentle heat around his wrists and ankles. It didn’t hurt, but it was unrelenting. He didn’t test the bonds, lacking the strength or any actual will to do so. Still under a sort of paralysis, he wasn’t scared of being pinned down, for he knew it was just a precaution; he was just scared of how bad the pain would be in order for restraining him like this to be necessary.

The precaution was far from unwarranted, he came to realize in the coming moments.

Merlin hovered one hand over Douxie’s chest and the other over his abdomen. Douxie watched him say some incantation, but he didn’t catch the words. He was too busy bracing himself for the pain as he saw the green aura of his master’s magic out of the corner of his eye, glowing above his torso.

Before Merlin even got to take a breath after the incantation, the pain started.

And no amount of bracing could have prepared Douxie enough.

The sudden agony in his torso ripped the breath from his lungs. He thought - hoped it would start small and get worse and worse, like a simmer that got hotter and hotter, but instead it was like a pot of scalding water got poured over his chest. No, even that would have hurt less. This… it started at the surface, but it bled deeper and deeper under his skin, and then -

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

-then it started to spread.

In moments, as if searing agony itself coursed through his veins, there was nowhere on his body that didn’t burn, not even his fingertips or the tip of his pinky toes. If he could feel it, it hurt, and it hurt unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

As the agony overrode his paralysis, he thrashed against Morgana’s magic that kept his wrists and ankles in place, arching his back one moment and curling forward the next.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to try to open his eyes. It hurt to keep them squeezed shut. It hurt to try to hear the voices of those around him - Morgana trying to tell him to be strong, Archie trying to soothe him, Merlin repeating the incantation. It hurt even to think - the pain, blinding and deafening, flooded out all other thoughts.

For a moment, like a fire burning so hot it feels cold for a fleeting beat, he stopped feeling the searing, searing agony.

But the moment was too, too fleeting before it wracked him again.

Finally, finally, he screamed.

It was a raw, shrill, agonized thing. He felt it come up from the base of his throat, and when Douxie realized, through his hysteria, that he was actually screaming, not wheezing or whimpering or anything he’d had to settle for tonight, he couldn’t stop. He screamed for all the torture of the day, all the fear of being alone, all the panic and terror and despair that he couldn’t let out in the woods, tense and spasming and paralyzed. 

All the screams that couldn’t come out before, when his throat was so tight that it barely let him breathe, came out right now, bursting at the seams of his pain-delirious mind.

He didn’t stop screaming until he finally felt Merlin’s magic let off.

Even then, his screams settled only into groans and wails until the burning across his body finally cooled; until the pain weakened from a searing sensation all over him, like the most brazen of fires, to a low ache, like the embers of a dying camp flame.

Once he fully stilled, which took a few more moments, Morgana’s magic came off his wrists and ankles.

Finally, he came back to his senses and see Merlin, Morgana, and Archie still around him. Archie looked relieved and nuzzled the side of Douxie’s head. Morgana smiled a shaky, hesitant smile - still so foreign to see from her.

And Merlin…

Well, he seemed as difficult to read as usual, but at least he no longer had the expression on his face of a man watching his apprentice die. Traces of relief lay there, and Douxie gladly took them.

So… was it over?

Douxie groaned and lifted his arm. It didn’t hurt to do anymore - well, it did, but more like a soreness left in the wake of heavy lifting, a residue of what happened than a symptom of it. He brought it up to his face so he could see his wrist.

His veins were blue again.

Sighing, he let his hand fall on his face and wiped away some tears - lifting it to see they were purely clear, like before - before letting it slide off his cheek and fall limp next to his head.

“Master…” his voice was so little, so hoarse, “‘s it gone?”

“Every bit, Hisirdoux.” Merlin said, putting his hand on Douxie’s shoulder, “It's over.”

He sounded weary. Douxie hoped that spell didn't take too much from him.

“Mm… my magic… 's it gone too?”

Merlin’s eyes said he wasn’t sure himself.

Douxie sought to answer the question on his own and willed forth his magic. He felt his fingertips thrum with the life of his sorcery. Lifting his hand again, he saw little specks of light, blue and true. It didn’t burn anymore, but it felt warm and gentle, like a heartbeat. His heartbeat. Exactly as it always felt.

He sighed. Not shaky, not fighting to keep his breathing level - a tired, relieved sigh. Despite how sore even the muscles in his face felt, he smiled a little smile.

“Thank you…” he said, “If you all hadn’t… I’d be-”

Merlin moved his hand from Douxie’s shoulder to his forehead.

“Don’t pay that scenario any mind, Hisirdoux.” Merlin urged, “You’ve survived, and although you and your magic have been weakened, both will fully recover.”

Douxie’s little smile fell.

“Wha… what about the poison? It couldn’t just be gone.”

“That it can.” Merlin assured, taking his hand off Douxie’s head, “As brutal as it is to the wizard affected, an unaffected wizard with strong magic can eradicate it from their body and return it to it’s untarnished condition.”

...Well, that was that, and Douxie wouldn’t question it. Besides, he remembered something.

“Mmmy bracelet… I lost it. That - they took it off. It’s in a bush out there.”

“I can see that. That’s alright.” Merlin said, “It can be retrieved.”

“And… and I'm sorry.” He said to Merlin’s subtle but obvious surprise, indicated by a little raise in his eyebrows.

“What for?”

“I… the herbs.” he answered, “I couldn’t bring them back. They got stolen.”

“It’s alright,” Merlin said, “They aren’t a rarity, you know.”

...Douxie sniffled.

“That… they only snatched those plants so I’d follow them deeper into the woods. So I’d get lost. So they could throw that dust in my face and - and leave me there, knowing I’d gone further into the forest than… than anyone would’ve looked, and I wouldn’t be found.” 

“But you were found, Douxie.” Archie said, “They weren’t counting on you having a dragon that could track scents for a familiar.”

Douxie’s voice started to break.

“I should have left it alone - I knew I should have left it alone. There was more right there, I should’ve-”

“Hisirdoux, cease this.” Merlin said in a tone that left no room for insistence, “You must grant yourself some relief in you and your magic’s survival. I won’t have you fret over something as menial as a handful of herbs, so-”

“But Master-”

“-Don’t “But Master” me.”

Douxie sighed. That statement didn’t leave any room for argument. It never did.

Finally, a little normalcy tonight.

Morgana put her hands to the sides of Douxie’s head. After she’d been so scared to touch him this whole time, the feeling of her fingers against his temples, brushing his hair away from his face, was a final, true assurance that the poison had been well and truly purged.

“Sleep, Little Douxie.” she soothed, “I promise you’ll wake.”

He couldn’t tell if she cast a sleep spell in that moment, or if this was from his own fatigue, but he obeyed without hesitance as he was finally lulled away from the realm of the conscious and fell into slumber.

---

Merlin looked down at the boy lying asleep on his desk, the color slowly trickling back into his face as his chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths. 

“He’s a brave little moppet.” Morgana said as she kept her fingers against the sides of his head, her voice hushed despite the fact that the boy’s exhaustion had lulled him into a deep slumber, and he’d sleep like a stone until morning no matter what.

“...No, he’s not.” Merlin denied, “Not for this.”

Morgana snapped her head up.

“He’s just gone through more torment from that powder in one day than either of us have in all our lives!” Morgana she contested, “Not even you have endured effects that brutal from Draining Dust.”

“To be brave requires a choice - being faced with the ultimatum to either run and give up, or face your fight.” Merlin said, too proverbial and righteous-sounding as he stood over Douxie, “A choice was the exact thing he didn’t have in this. Perhaps if he’d been withholding something from that assailant, even with the threat of this, then it might be different. But as it is, even if he’d wanted to succumb to this before Archie had found him, his adrenaline hadn’t let him.”

“Maybe so,” Archie started, “but when I found him there in the forest, and I told him I’d have to come back with help, he was terrified of being left alone again. I could tell. But he put on as brave a face he could have. He chose that for himself, at least.”

“He did the same thing moments ago, when you told him how much that spell would hurt.” Morgana added, “He may not have had a choice in enduring this, but he did choose to steel his nerves when faced with every reason not to, and there’s bravery in that, old man.” She crossed her arms. “Even you have to admit that.”

Merlin almost found it endearing, seeing them both try to defend his apprentice’s honor when they felt it threatened, and maybe he could’ve seen the bravery they saw, if he’d been looking at anyone else.

But as he looked down at Hisirdoux… that’s all he saw. Hisirdoux. His apprentice. His son. His gangly little moppet who tended to cause more messes than he cleaned up, but smiled like the embodiment of joy itself.

If daylight decided to make itself corporeal and walk among humans for a while, Merlin wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it took the form of Hisirdoux Casperan.

So, the sorcerer didn’t see bravery when he found Hisirdoux writhing and gasping on the ground in those woods, he didn’t feel bravery when the boy trembled in his arms, and he most certainly didn’t hear bravery when the boy wailed and screamed his lungs out as that poison was taken out of him, black tears streaming down his face until they became clear again.

No, if Douxie had been brave, pride in that laid nowhere in Merlin’s mind. 

After all, when fear for his son’s life flooded his mind, and hatred for whoever did this to him flooded out that fear, where, pray tell, could pride reside?

Morgana kept looking down at Douxie as he slept.

“How could you risk that?” she asked Merlin.

“Risk what, Morgana?” he asked, “Be specific.”

She snapped her head back up.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Morgana almost shouted, stifling her volume so the sleeping moppet wouldn’t hear, ““Eradicate” my foot, old man. I know the spell you used. You didn’t use a spell of eradication, you used a spell of transference!”

Arhcie had been staring down at his own sleeping familiar, but he snapped up when he heard that word, “transference”. First he looked to Morgana, then to Merlin.

“You told him it got destroyed, but you just - all you did was soak it up like a sponge!”

“Merlin… is that true?” Archie asked, obviously afraid that after all of this, Douxie would wake up without his mentor - his father - because he’d taken the poison for him. The little apprentice left without a master would never stop blaming himself, no matter how hard Morgana and Archie tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

Merlin sighed, an affirmation without words or nods.

“I spent the years since it’s conception,” he started, “building an immunity to the dust and its properties. It was too big a risk, potentially having a weakness to something so daunting - something I’d seen subdue and poison countless wizards. Too high a risk - a threat to the greater good.”

“So… the poison’s not having any affect on you?” Archie asked, stepping around Douxie to approach Merlin, “It’s not… he couldn’t have gone through all of this just to lose you.”

“And he won’t.” Merlin assured in confidence, “Much more than a handful of that powder would have had to be thrown at him to have any severe affect on me. No, this won’t need more than a night of rest to fix. Besides, what’s the good in spending all that time building up an immunity to Draining Dust if not to make use of it? A waste of time and tolerance built.”

“You couldn’t have known it wouldn’t...” Morgana said, “You couldn’t have possibly known you’d survive taking all of it like that!”

“I didn’t.” Merlin snapped.

Morgana’s eyes widened, as if everything about what the boy meant to him fell into place.

Because he hadn’t worried about his survival - the matter didn’t even cross his mind, not when he could still hear Douxie whimpering in pain with each page of that spellbook he skimmed. No, he only concerned himself with the likelihood that it would save the boy, his only worry being about how badly it would hurt Douxie when he’d already had to go through so much senseless, ludicrous torture.

Merlin always prioritized the “greater good”, some vast, staggering, intangible concept that encapsulated so much - the lives of thousands, the wellbeing of millions, the good of humanity.

But when he found his son writhing, hurting, suffocating, dying, he found he couldn’t spare any more regard to the “greater good” in that moment than he would a layer of dust on one of his books. If saving Hisirdoux’s life meant casting aside the greater good, then there was no question about it - he’d let the greater good rot.

It didn’t matter to him if his magic would’ve been permanently diminished by extracting the poison, or even if it killed him. Cast the greater good aside - the greatest good was the life in Hisirdoux’s eyes, and by all the heavens, he’d protect it.

And thankfully, he did just that tonight, at the cost of neither his life, his health, or his own magic. And that was the greatest good he could have asked for.

With another sigh, relieved that Morgana chose not to pry, Merlin looked down at the boy, still sound asleep, laid out on his desk. He put one arm under Douxie’s back and the other behind his knees, picking him up just like he did when he found him in those woods.

But this time, instead of trembling in his hold, Douxie made a little noise and unconsciously put his arm over Merlin’s shoulder, snuggling closer, if it were possible, to the master wizard.

Yes. he thought. There’s no greater good than this.

Morgana put her hands over her mouth and looked at the two of them as if the sight was something adorable, and Merlin huffed. Archie took his same spot curled up on Douxie’s abdomen.

“I’m taking him to his room.” he said, hushing his voice even though he knew the moppet wouldn’t wake, “And I’ll let him sleep in tomorrow morning. He needs to rest.”

The sun had set sometime during the painstaking ordeal, but torchlight along the walls of the castle made it easy to take his sleeping apprentice back to his room even once night has fallen. After using a simple spell to swing the door open while his arms were in use carrying the boy, Merlin walked in and used another little spell. The green aura of his magic glowed around the blanket on Douxie’s bed as he folded part of it over using his magic, providing room to lay Douxie down on his bed with head nestled right in his pillow’s usual dent. Once Archie stepped out of the way, Merlin reached over and laid the blanket back over him.

Douxie stirred a little, but only to turn from his back onto his side, his back to the wall and his front facing Merlin. Once the boy settled again, Merlin tentatively reached behind his head and let his bun loose so it wouldn’t get tangled if he moved around too much in his sleep. He doubted it would, considering the exhaustion and soreness in his muscles would probably enticement enough to stay still, even unconscious, but the gesture couldn’t hurt.

Archie crawled right underneath one of Douxie’s arms and nestled against his chest, and the moppet unconsciously held the bespectacled cat a little tighter.

And that was Merlin’s unspoken cue to leave Hisirdoux to rest for the night, so that’s what he did. He needed rest too, after all - his built-up immunity may have saved his life, but the poison, like everything else in the onslaught of the evening, left him weary.

Tomorrow, a search would begin.

Tomorrow, Merlin would find out who was behind this.

Tomorrow, the greatest and most powerful wizard in Camelot would not relent until he found the monster, human or trollish, who almost killed his son.

But tonight, Hisirdoux lay curled up in his bed, sound asleep as he kept his familiar close. Tonight, his life was saved.

And tonight, that was enough.

#tales of arcadia #toa #mine #toa fanfic #whump #hurt/comfort #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #moppet!douxie #archie toa #toa merlin #toa morgana #toa wizards #fic: of poison forest floors and terrified wizards #draining dust

[sergeantsporks]

Here’s to Friendships That Were Never Real

Teen

Gen

Most of the Guardians enjoy having their memories back Douxie rather wishes he didn't have to remember the worst 18 hours of his life, and all the different kinds of betrayal he endured.

Ao3

When the memories returned, everyone was happy.

Everyone remembered what heroes they were.

They remembered Toby’s sacrifice, Jim’s choice.

They remembered valiant deeds, a harsh battle, a tough time.

They remembered pain, but more importantly, they remembered the victory.

That wasn’t how Douxie remembered it.

Douxie remembered pain and torture. Douxie remembered heartache, and loss. Douxie remembered fear.

But most of all, Douxie remembered betrayal.

Douxie remembered being locked up by the order, expecting his friends to come save him.

Only for them to never arrive.

And of course, that was the practical option. The safe option. That was, of course, the right choice. One wizard for the fate of the world? It was hardly worth it. One life, stacked up against all other lives? Laughable. But still…

Douxie had risked the fate of the world to save them.

Douxie had died to save them.

Apparently, they hadn’t thought he was worth the effort to reciprocate.

And then when he was back?

Was it really any better?

Did anyone even care, did anyone even notice that he’d been hurt? They hadn’t asked if he was okay. Just where Nari was, what Nari had said while she was in his body. Did they even care what had happened to him? No. Sure. World in danger. Find out where Nari was. That was… that was fair, that was logical. It was more important than how he felt.

It still hurt.

Maybe if they’d pulled the knives out of his back, they would have had enough weapons to defeat the order.

Friends never arriving.

Friends leaving.

Charlemagne was Archie’s father. Of course he wouldn’t want to leave him. Of course—Charlemagne was Archie’s family. Of course he’d choose to stay with him.

It was just that Douxie had thought he was family, too.

But apparently not.

He remembered falling from the sky, again, and there was no one to help him. He’d had to save himself. Do it alone.

Alone.

Apparently that was what he was.

He’d thought, maybe, that these people cared about him. He cared about them, he cared so much, he thought his heart might burst. Maybe he’d been projecting his own love back. Maybe he’d thought they cared because he cared. Maybe he’d been reading the situation wrong the whole time.

And now? Now they were all laughing, all hugging, and glad to get their memories back.

Glad that things were back to the way they were.

Douxie slipped away, wandering through the streets of Arcadia. They hadn’t noticed when he was hurting then, and they didn’t notice now.

There had been one person who’d put Douxie above the greater good.

One person who had valued Douxie above his own life.

Maybe the one thing this time travel had fixed.

If the erased events had taught Douxie anything, it was that there was apparently only one person he could trust.

One person who had cared enough about him to make an effort.

Douxie stopped in front of a bookstore, his hands shaking as he opened the lock with magic, like he had a hundred times before. He held his breath as he walked in.

Empty.

Dark.

Abandoned.

What had he been expecting? Douxie’s shoulders sank, and he felt tears start to well up in the corners of his eyes.

“Hisirdoux?”

Douxie whirled around to see him standing there, in all of his armored glory, as grouchy and old as when Douxie had last seen him.

“What are you doing here? I should think you’d be celebrating the return of your memories, as all of your frie—”

Merlin broke off as Douxie stumbled into him, sobbing. The master wizard put one hand on his head, letting him cry into an uncomfortable, metal shoulder. “Oh, Hisirdoux. What has happened to you?”

“I d-don’t want to see them,” he choked, “I thought—but then—and even Archie—I don’t…”

His emotions were a jumbled mess. He wanted to see them—but he didn’t. He loved them, and he hated himself for loving them, hated himself for caring so much about people who didn’t care back, and if he could just stop caring, it would be okay, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop caring, and caring while knowing that they didn’t care made it so much worse.

“Then you don’t have to. I do not know what happened in the time after my demise, but if you wish to stay here with me, you are welcome. Master wizard.”

Merlin waved a hand, and the door to the back sprang open. The cot Douxie had left there was replaced by a bed, and warm lights flickered on.

Douxie shuffled inside. “And—if the others come—”

“If you do not wish to see them, I will not let them in. You have my word.”

Douxie collapsed on the bed, more tired than he thought he’d be. Merlin quietly shut the door, and Douxie flopped backwards, one arm over his eyes. He’d have to face them eventually.

But not tonight.

Xxx

Claire slammed a fist on Merlin’s door. Archie hadn’t wanted to come with—she wasn’t sure why, but the familiar had looked awfully dodgy and guilty about it. “Hey! Open up!”

The door opened just a crack. “Why hello, Miss Nunez. I trust you have a reasonable explanation for why you’re attempting to break down my door at his hour?”

“Where’s Douxie?!”

“Oh, finally noticed he’s missing, have you? He doesn’t want to see you.”

“Doesn’t want to—” Claire sputtered, “Liar! We’re his friends, and we know you have him! Let us see him!”

“As I said, he does not wish to see you. Good day.”

Merlin closed the door.

Claire kicked it down. “What are you doing to him?”

Merlin thumped his staff on the ground. “As of a few moments ago, I believe I was allowing him to sleep in. Perhaps you’ve missed your recommended eight hours, and that is why you seem a touch unreasonable.”

Jim put a hand on Claire’s shoulder. “We’re just… worried about him is all. He left last night, and we haven’t seen him since.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for you to worried about him now. As I said, Hisirdoux does not wish to see you. Kindly exit my shop before I am forced to take action.”

Claire heard a slight creak, and she peered around Merlin to see a door to the back open just a crack, a pair of golden eyes peering out of it.

“Douxie!”

The wizard shuffled out into the open, looking like he’d gotten caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. “Oh. Hey.”

Something about him was off, something about the way he wouldn’t look Claire in the eye. “We… just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay.”

He still wouldn’t look at her. “Yeah. I’m fine. You can go.”

Claire hesitated. “Douxie, are you… are you sure? Merlin said—”

“Merlin was right,” Douxie said in a small voice, keeping his master in-between himself and Claire, “I don’t want to see you. Please go.”

Suspicion swept over Claire, and she turned to Merlin. “What are you doing to him? Some kind of control?!”

“I assure you, Lady Claire, I am doing nothing of the sort. Hisirdoux simply does not want to see you. Neither do I, really, so if you would kindly walk out of that door—”

“Liar!” A knife of shadows materialized in Claire’s hand, and she leveled it at Merlin. “Let him go!”

Merlin’s eyes flashed, and his staff started to glow. “Careful, Miss Nunez. You may have learned shadow magic, but I still have centuries of experience on you.”

“We’ll see.”

“Stop!”

Claire and Merlin both stopped glaring at each other to turn to see who’d spoken. Jim shook his head. “Both of you. Quit fighting. Claire, if Douxie says he doesn’t want to see us…”

Claire turned back to Douxie. “But why?” she pleaded, “What’s wrong, Douxie? Did we do something?”

Douxie’s eyes flashed blue, and he slammed his fist down on the table. “What’s wrong?! What’s wrong is that you left me with the order. What’s wrong is that even when they were torturing me, you didn’t come for me. What’s wrong is that you didn’t care about what I went through!”

His eyes were completely blue, and small items were starting to float. Claire took a step back. “…Douxie? I… I’m sorry, we didn’t know—”

Douxie collapsed to his knees with a pulse of blue magic shooting out. It didn’t do much—just gave Claire a headache. “BUT YOU DIDN’T BOTHER FINDING OUT, DID YOU?!”

Glowing blue tears ran down his cheeks.

“You just… didn’t care enough, I guess.”

The maelstrom of blue magic surrounding Douxie was getting wilder and wilder, items swirling around like a tornado.

“You left me.”

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Merlin muttered as the magic started to spread further and further out from Douxie. “Hisirdoux, wait—”

“Douxie, we’re sorry,” Jim tried.

Another blast of magic shot out of their friend, and this one threw everyone back, including Merlin. “SORRY ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH,” he howled.

The world turned a blinding flash of blue, and when Claire blinked the spots out of her eyes, Douxie was gone.

Xxx

Douxie curled into a ball, in the alley next to Benoit’s. His magic was still fluctuating wildly, making things in the alleyway fly around or light on fire at random.

Sorry isn’t good enough.

How was someone supposed to make up for stabbing you in the back?

How did you just say “sorry” for the way you abandoned someone like that fixed everything?

How could you just FORGIVE someone for not caring enough, for staying willfully ignorant of what you’d gone through?

Because he wanted to forgive them.

But he wanted to stay mad.

He wanted them close again.

But he wanted them to stay away.

He loved them.

He hated them.

He needed them.

He shouldn’t need them.

They’d abandoned him.

They were sorry.

But were they really, actually sorry? Did they actually care, or was he just another item on a checklist—restore memories, check on Douxie, feed the cat.

Something jumped down into the alleyway next to him.

“I know I’m probably the last person you wanted to see,” Archie’s voice said.

Douxie looked up to see his familiar awkwardly pawing at the ground. He turned away.

“You don’t have to forgive me for what I did. I left you. I should have been by your side, I should have been the one to stick with you through thick and thin. And I didn’t.”

Douxie didn’t respond. A glass bottle exploded.

“It was just… when I saw my dad, about to be trapped in the Troll Market, I panicked. I thought “this is it, if I don’t do something now, I’ll lose him forever.” And I made a choice. A bad one. And then in the next hour until Jim reset time… I regretted that choice, Douxie. I spent every second after wishing I was with you instead. That I’d flown out. I would have missed my dad. But in that hour, I found that I would miss you more.” Archie sighed. “I know you’re angry. And you should be. And I don’t deserve your forgiveness—none of us deserve your forgiveness. I made a bad choice, and I… I hurt you. And I can’t fix that. I can’t erase what happened—well, I supposed Jim technically did, but you see my point. I just wanted to let you know that… leaving you was the worst decision of my life. And if you never want to see me again… then that’s what I deserve. I chose to never see you again, and it’s only fair if you want to return the favor. I’m sorry, Douxie.”

Archie turned to go, and for the first time, Douxie reached out and picked him up, hugging him. His familiar tensed, unused to Douxie initiating the contact, but then rubbed against his chest. “I’m sorry, Douxie. I’m so, so, sorry.”

Douxie wiped at his eyes. His magic had finally settled down. “It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not okay what I did. But… I’d be honored if you’d let me stay with you anyway.”

“Always.” Douxie scratched behind Archie’s ears. “But I… I can’t stay here. I need time. To process. And… I can’t keep seeing them. I just… I can’t.”

Archie purred. “The world is much bigger than Arcadia Oaks. We can go anywhere you like, Douxie, you pick where.”

Douxie wrinkled his nose. “Just promise me one thing?”

“Name it.”

“We’re not traveling on any trains.”

#rott #rott spoilers #hi yes i am still angry about how douxie got treated #my writing #claire nuñez #jim lake jr #screw forgiveness let people be angry #toa #douxie #tales of arcadia #toa fanfiction

[isthemedia]

Wait…PokémonHitmanHacker Cyrus WATCHES security footage of Giovanni? Does he get off on it?

I wanted to write something for this PokeHitman!AU...might as well start it off with a bang.

(Cut for content-NO UNDER 18)

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

It was sick. He knew it was. Watching this again and again-on loop. But he couldn’t help it. For as much as he teased and mocked the older man-seeing him work in the “field” was truly mesmerizing. That smirk, and that glint in his eyes. Even though there was no audio, he could tell when his tone darkened...when he was deathly serious.

Cyrus was certain if there was audio captured, he’d be watching this even more. Letting the words burn into his memory—

Maybe it was a good thing. He doubts he’d ever be able to have a normal conversation with the other without remembering this.

His specialty is hacking and deleting security; be it footage or codes to disarm locks-he could do it all. It was how the future was going to be. Everything technological-machine based. There was no need to stick to the “old ways”.

He couldn’t stifle the gasp he made as the footage showed the other man being able to deal a blow so hard to one of his would-be captures’ face, that he could see the small trickle of blood oozing out. And that smirk turned a bit darker.

“Gio...vanni,” Cyrus’ voice came out as a hushed whisper as he watched.

It was a small mistake on the older man’s part. Getting caught. Or maybe he wanted to be caught? It was hard to tell. But that was what this footage was. The arrest of Giovanni Sakaki. Several officers surrounded him, trying to apprehend him.

Secretly, it was Cyrus’ favorite footage. He saved every delete bit of footage or code. There would be a use for it in the future. Possibly.

However, he never considered this as a use. What was it about Giovanni that made him-feel- like this? Certainly Lysandre or even Maxie would have been more suitable. Lysandre and him shared many ideologies and both had troubled family issues...so naturally it would have made sense?

But, ugh, the Kalosian was far too haughty. His ego was massive. Sure he had a very controlled flair to his own methods-Cyrus couldn’t believe he was ACTUALLY going say it-they were almost, beautiful really.

As for Maxie...he did have to admit his intelligence was quite impressive. Too bad his anger would cloud his usual razor sharp judgement. Really, Archie was always going to be the better fit for Maxie.

There was a flash on the screen, and Cyrus found himself needing to shift in his seat. Heat pooling in the pit of his stomach as he continued watching. Giovanni had just let out his Persian, things were just going to keep escalating.

His breath was coming out in short pants as he felt his face heat up. “Giovanni,” he murmured as he watched. When it cut out, he rewound it, and watched it again. He already couldn’t recall what number viewing it was for this session. Third? Maybe the fourth? Either way, he knew he was going to watch it again. And then maybe once more after that-no maybe twice-or maybe the rest of the night.

Eyes focus on how Giovanni’s upper lip curled back into a sneer as several men approached him. Trying to corner the older man. To trap him. Oh, they had no idea how dangerous Giovanni could be if he was trapped.

Cyrus couldn’t help but lick his lips slightly. Giovanni’s face was surprisingly expressive. Despite his cool and collected demeanor, his face was always a clear giveaway as to how he truly felt.

Cuffs were pulled out. Though Cyrus knew they weren’t going to be used. He wondered, what would Giovanni look like if he was cuffed?

A sight that he could only fantasize about.

He made another small sound as he shifted in his seat. The heat was getting to be a bit too much. It was embarrassing when this would happen. But, there was something about Giovanni that made this feel, almost natural.

Those dull blue eyes focused on the screen, one of his hands trailed down…covering the slight bulge straining against the zipper of his slacks. Biting back a soft moan as he rubbed in just small circles.

The footage showed Giovanni seizing one of the officers by their wrist. Forcing the drawn gun and pointing it away from him, and down at the ground. The older man knew how to disarm a person with the barest amount of force. However, that wasn’t the goal this time.

That smirk. He said something to the officer. Cyrus couldn’t figure it out-he wishes he could read lips-but whatever it was seemed to have enraged the officer. They struggled against Giovanni’s hold. Cyrus’ eyes trained on how Giovanni’s hand nimbly shifted it’s hold. How one finger managed to position itself just right-

Then the sudden look of complete and utter pain replaced the irate look. The footage played as the officer fell over…his own gun shooting him in the foot.

Though the gun itself was now in Giovanni’s hand. Another shot, and two more officers had their own guns drawn. Yet Giovanni didn’t seem unnerved at all. In fact, that smirk just stayed on his face.

His eyes slipped shut for only a moment as he rubbed a bit at the bulge. Giovanni always knew how to turn any odds in his favor. It didn't make any logical sense as to how-but Cyrus saw it enough times to no longer question it. Perhaps Giovanni was never meant to be figured out.

His fingers finally working the button and zipper-undoing them. He shuddered slightly, a wet spot was forming on his briefs that was straining against his now erect cock.

The video ended...and once again Cyrus replayed it.

Biting his lip to stifle any sound as he continued watching. His hand stroking up and down...up and down. Breathe coming out in hot little puffs.

He got back to the part of Giovanni letting out his Persian. He didn't even need to give a command, just a snap of his fingers, and the classy cat Pokemon pounced.

A flurry of gunshots, blood spraying about. Leaving behind one last officer. Down on the ground, holding his bleeding leg as the Persian drew near.

The look of fear on his face was captured so clearly on the video. Watching those eyes grow wider-the skin going paler as Giovanni knelt in front of them. Again he said something, but Cyrus was beyond the point of caring what it was.

His mind was buzzing pleasantly as he continued to work his hand over his leaking cock. A moan slipping out through his pressed lips. It was building even faster now. Eyes barely opened, but he still watched.

Giovanni called back his Persian, as he still stood over the officer. He said something, and ended the offier's suffer--

Cyrus moaned as his hips bucked up sharply as he came.

How did he never notice it before?

How clear Giovanni spoke for that one moment. Making sure that even with his inability to read lips, Cyrus would know what he said.

'This is for you, amore.'

He was still panting as the video ended. Screen fully black. Letting his mind come back down to Earth from wherever it went off too in it’s orgasmic haze.

Those last few moments replayed in his mind. Cyrus couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him. That bastard. He knew about this habit of his, didn’t he? Of course he did.

“Giovanni…” Cyrus mumbled softly to himself with another chuckle. His heart rate was slowly back down. His body suddenly felt so much colder than it had just moments ago. He also felt so very tired-but on instinct he just hit ‘replay’.

Maybe it was sick. Twisted. Definitely something wrong with him. But he didn’t care. Not anymore. Not when he could just keep watching Giovanni.

#tw violence #tw gun use #tw implied murder #pokemon giovanni #pokemon cyrus #absolutecontrolshipping #boss giovanni #boss cyrus #PokeHitman #anon ask #Wanted to write something-might as well make it steamy

[survey--s]

604.

Why are you taking a survey? Because that's what I feel like doing right now. When’s the last time you were grounded? I was only ever grounded once, and that was...18 years ago, I think. Anything exciting taking place today? Nah, today is just a nice, chill day. I had a lie-in, sorted the animals out, had breakfast, got housework done, took the dog for a walk, came home, got him a treat, showered, had lunch and now everyone is asleep and I'm doing this and watching Below Deck lol. What are you craving? Sparkling water, for some reason. I think because it was mentioned on the TV earlier.

Is there anyone in the room with you? All the animals - Simba is asleep on the back of the couch, Archie is sprawled out next to me, Toby is by my feet and Purrlock is on the fridge.

Who did you last hit? I honestly don't remember.

What was the last thing you did before bed last night? Told Mike to be quiet lol. He was just faffing about at midnight because he was too lazy to sort his work shit out earlier in the day lol. What’s your biggest fear? Losing the people I love the most. Laptop or desktop? Laptop. Do you have an iPod? No, I just use Spotify on my phone for music. Do you have a fan on in the room you’re in? No. Do you have a wallet? I own one somewhere but I never use it anymore. What are you sitting on? I'm currently on the sofa. What’s the last thing you had to eat? Cappucino flavoured chocolate buttons. Do you like grapefruits? I've actually never tried one before. Sweet or sour? Sour. Have you ever had the Reese’s PB Candy Bars? Yeah, they're really good. I'd buy them more often but they're really expensive and never last long lol. Do you know who Shawn Michaels is? Nope. Who do you turn to if you need help? It depends what I need help with, I guess. Are you more dependent or independent? Independent, for sure. I don't really like asking for help. Does the time 2 o'clock have any significance to you? Nope. Do you like bagels? Ooh, I love bagels. I never really think to buy them though. Are there any stuffed animals in the room you’re in? No. What do you think of guy’s who wear eyeliner? I mean, they can wear what they like - it doesn't really do anything for me though. Favorite tv show? Friends, Below Deck. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? Mike. Where’s your mother? I assume she's at home. Do you know who the strongest man in the world is? Nope. What’s the best time you’ve had in the past week? Finishing work on Friday and spending yesterday with my mum, Mike and friends. Have you ever been in a fist fight? Nope. Can you cook? Yes but I really don't enjoy it. What time is it? It's currently 13.34. Do you love animals? I do indeed. What color are your eyes? Brown. Who’s one person you care about more than yourself? Mike. How many hours of sleep did you get last night? About seven hours, I think. Are there any pets you’re wishing for? Not at the moment - we have three cats (including a kitten) and a dog and we're at a point where everyone gets on really well so I wouldn't want to risk upsetting it now. Whatcha gonna do now? =] Probably go for a pee and take another survey.

#survey #surveys