#had to power through some Fast and Heavy art block for this one

[rainontherooftops]

Cradle

Summary: FBI Agent Marcus Pike finds out that one of his agents is pregnant - yet still insists on going into the field and taking risks. Fighting his feelings for her, he needs to step up and be a boss instead of a caring friend.

Fandom: The Mentalist - Pedro Pascal as FBI Agent Marcus Pike Genre: Colleagues toFriends to Lovers, Drama, Family Drama, Pregnancy Pairing: Marcus x f! Reader Triggers : Mentions of pregnancy and broken family dynamics, mentions of abortion and misscarriage Rating : T

IMPORTANT INFO: THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY FORMER TUMBLR BLOG

+++

Cradle

„Being pregnant is not the problem here, mother!”

Eavesdropping, Marcus thought, was an awful thing. And he really didn’t want to eavesdrop. But you weren’t exactly silent on the phone as you argued with your mother.

He had asked you to come into work on a Saturday morning, in hopes to finally catch a break on the case the team had been working on, when the building was less busy.

Two coffees and pastries from your favorite bakery down the block in his hand, he had almost knocked on the door to your office – until he had heard your voice through the door and stopped in shock.

He could, of course, double back and give you your privacy, wait five minutes until he was sure that your argument was over – but this was a delicate topic.

Chastising himself for eavesdropping, he sharpened his ears. You were one of his agents. If you were pregnant, he didn’t exactly have the right to know, but he should probably think about not sending you out into the field anymore.

Marcus didn’t have the time to think things over or digest the information that you were pregnant, because you were still shouting at your mother.

“Ohh, no, you can’t play that card. It is not the woman’s fault when the bastard who impregnated her leaves her as soon as he finds out! If you want to blame someone, blame Curtis. He’s the one who packed his bags and hauled ass. The pee hadn’t even dried on the pregnancy test!”

He really, really shouldn’t listen. But the story got spicier, and more heart-wrecking by the minute. Marcus hadn’t even known that you had been seeing someone. He had even hoped that there was a spark between the two of you. But now-

“No, Mom, just no. Don’t bring God into this! It’s all ‘be a good, Christian, abstinent girl’ – until the day you turn twenty-one. Ever since that day you’ve asked about ‘potential husbands and grandchildren’.”

Marcus suppressed a sigh. He knew that your relationship with your mother was strained at the best of times, but right now, it seemed positively chaotic.

“Abortion?! Mom! You’ve been complaining to your friends about the lack of grandchildren for years, and now that there’s one on the way you want to get rid of it?! Just because it doesn’t come with a marriage certificate? Fuck you! Either you show some fucking support for your daughter and your future grandchild, or you prepare for a future without them. Your choice.”

Marcus almost dropped the coffees when he jumped back as the cellphone that you had probably been shouting into hit the heavy oak door with a shattering smash. He could hear you groaning and cursing, and he knew it was time to retreat.

Thanking the gods above for the carpeted floor in the old building that hosted the art department, he slowly walked back towards the doors.

He made it around a corner just in time; he heard the door of your office open and close again. Deeming it save to appear now, he put on his best bland face so as to not rise suspicion that he had heard and now knew your secret.

You had been power walking so fast towards him that he almost collided with you in the hallway.

“Woah, good morning there.”

Marcus could see the anger in your face, the storm in your eyes and that you were still fuming. But as soon as your gazes met, he thought that your features softened a little.

An exhausted sigh left your lips as you stopped in front of him.

“Marcus. Sorry, I didn’t look where I was-… Please tell me those are pastries from Cherry’s.”

He smiled.

“It’s the least I can get you when you’re willing to come in on a Saturday”

Pregnant, and probably with a lot of other things on your mind, he added in his thoughts, trying not to worry.

Normally he’d ask you how you are, but he refrained today, just handing you your coffee. After all, he knew that you were not feeling good. Also, he was afraid.

Of course he would listen to your problems if you decided to tell him – but somehow he wasn’t ready for it.

**

You hadn’t talked to your mother in six weeks. Between working on cases and reading books about babies and pregnancies, there was one more thing that weighed on your thoughts – Marcus Pike.

Your boss slash friend slash secret crush was acting weird. His mood altered between being nervous around you to straight up ignoring you. And every time a new case came in, he asked you to stay behind and do the research instead of going into the field.

Had you done something wrong? Were you being punished? Marcus knew you were a damn good field agent – so why was he benching you?

It didn’t just hurt your pride that he was effectively “demoting” you – it also hurt that somehow you had seemed to lose his friendship over the last weeks.

The breaking point came during an “all hands on deck” situation, where you slipped into your stab vest and prepared to leave with the rest of the crew, when Marcus turned around and told you to stay.

Your colleagues had of course noticed that something had changed in the last weeks – they were trained agents after all. You wanted to say something, but Marcus lifted his fingers, and it seemed like he was trying to keep it together.

“Please, just don’t argue with me on this. Stay here.”

“But why? Marcus, seriously, we need all the people we- “

“I told you to stay, agent, and that’s final!”, he shouted, effectively silencing the whole bullpen.

Nobody tried to hide their stares. Never had any of them seen Special Agent Pike lose his cool.

“Fine…”, you growled, throwing your stab vest on the ground and stomping back to your office.

You could see that your colleagues were eyeing you and Marcus with curious glances, their eyes burning into your skin.

**

It was 3. A. M. when Marcus returned to his apartment, only to see you sitting beneath his doorframe, shivering, and waiting for him to get home.

Th glare he received made his skin crawl – but he had done what he had to do. You were taking too many risks, actively putting the baby and yourself in peril – and he would not stand for that.

If you still weren’t feeling like telling him that you would be out of duty soon, then he had to take the reins.

“Why are you lurking at my door, agent?”, Marcus asked, exhausted, fumbling for his keys.

You were getting up and it took all the strength in him to not scoop down or lend you a hand. Every fiber of his being wanted to help you – but technically he still didn’t know about the pregnancy.

“Don’t ‘agent’ me, Marcus. I’m not here as your employee, I’m here as your friend.”

Sighing, he opened the door and let you in. Darkness surrounded you, only the faintest moonlight illuminating the hallway.

Marcus suddenly yelped in pain when you punched his upper arm as hard as you could.

“Oi!”

“What the fuck”, you complained, “was that earlier? What did I do, Marcus? Why have you been ignoring me? Why have you been benching me?”

Growling and frustrated, Marcus massaged his sore arm and trotted into the living room, turning the light on, carelessly throwing his leather jacket towards a chair.

“I could ask you the same thing. What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you still insisting on going into the field?”

That sentence earned him a confused look and two arms crossed in front of a heaving chest.

“What do you mean ‘still’? Why shouldn’t I go out into the field anymore?”

Marcus was fumbling, pacing up and down. He knew he had to tell you now that he knew you were pregnant. He had to face his feelings.

The feelings of rejection he had felt ever since he found out. The feeling of losing hope once again and heartbreak – heartbreak about a woman he had not even had a first date with yet.

“Because… Because of your condition.”

“My condition? Marcus, what…”

“Oh, for fucks sake, I know you’re pregnant, okay? I accidentally overheard you fighting with your mother on the phone”, he exploded, sitting down on the sofa and running his hands through his hair.

He had thought a lot about your predicament in the last weeks. Would you be alright as a single mother? Where could he find this bastard who had left you and kick his ass, make sure he paid child support?

How much help would you accept?

Should he… Should he offer to help out with the baby?

He expected for you to shout at him, to be mad, to cry or to leave the apartment, but instead he heard you ask: “Marcus? What is this?”

Turning his head, he saw you kneeling on the living room floor and cursed inwardly.

On one of his trips to an antique store in the last weeks he had found an old-fashioned wooden cradle and he had thought of you and your child.

He had bought it and some mint green paint from the hardware store and had repainted it. Now it was standing on a stack of old newspapers, waiting for finishing touches. It was supposed to be a surprise present.

Sighing, he leaned against his couch cushions.

“A present for your baby. I found it in an old antique store, and I thought it would be a nice thing to get you.”

Marcus watched you as you stood back up and stepped toward him, plopping yourself onto the couch, your thighs touching his. You grabbed his hand in yours and squeezed it.

“That… that is very sweet of you Marcus. But I’m not pregnant.”

His second hand enveloped your intertwined ones and goosebumps were crawling along his skin. All the color left his face and it suddenly felt like his heart dropped into his stomach.

“D-did… Did you lose the baby? I’m so- I’m so sorry. That must be so horrible. No wonder you were mad. I’m…”

With the one free hand you had left, you silenced him by placing two fingers to his lips.

You shook your head.

“I didn’t lose the baby, Marcus. You misunderstood. I was never pregnant in the first place.”

His shock was now replaced by confusion. He remembered the phone call vividly, had repeated it in his head a lot of times.

“My sister Caitlyn is moving in with me next month”, you then explained, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Her boyfriend Curtis left her as soon as she told him she was pregnant. Just packed his bags and left, the bastard. My mom is not happy about it, but she is more concerned with what people might think about Caitlyn having a child out of wedlock than anything else. She’s ten years younger than me, only twenty-two, and honestly pretty scared and lonely.”

Marcus could feel the weight that had been pressing on his chest in the last six weeks lifted from his chest. Your sister was pregnant.

“I thought I had done something to make you mad at me – or worse, did something to disappoint you. But you just wanted to protect me because you thought I was with child.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. And that earned him another, yet lighter, punch.

“Don’t apologize for being the sweetest man alive, dumbass.”

Marcus could feel your heard on your shoulder turn towards the cradle again.

“You would have gotten me a cradle?”

He gulped, suddenly realizing the very close proximity you were in. You were still holding hands, the left side of your body pressed against his right.

“It’s… It’s still yours if you want it. I mean, your sisters. I’d like to help any way I can”, he said.

He could almost feel you smile next to him.

“Of course you do. You’re wonderful, Marcus.”

“I’m not. I’m selfish.”

“Why’d you say that?”

Now or never, Pike, he thought, shifting to look into your eyes.

“I didn’t bench you because I thought it would be dangerous for you to be out in the field. Well, yes, I did, but that was not my main motivation. I ignored you and benched you because every time I looked at you and thought about… you know… I got incredibly jealous.”

He could see in your eyes that you couldn’t follow, so he continued, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. Were his hands getting clammier?

“I… I like you. A lot. Have liked you for a while. And when I heard that you were pregnant and that you were left behind, all I felt was jealousy. I was jealous of the guy that you had apparently loved. I wanted to- “

Marcus was silenced by a pair of soft, eager lips who sealed his mouth with a kiss that was both sweet and innocent, yet still needy and full of passion.

Before he could reciprocate however, you retreated, biting your lower lip and shyly smiling up at him.

“Oh…”.

“Yes, oh”, you giggled.

“So... does this mean you… I mean…”

You snuggled back into him, now wrapping your arms around his torso, leaning your head on his chest.

“I like you too, Marcus. A lot.”

“Thank you?”

He could feel your chuckles against his ribcage. Carefully he rested his hands against your body, rubbing your shoulders.

“D’you think your sister will like the cradle?”

“I’m sure she will love it.”

**

AN: Abortion is healthcare. Nobody should be forced to carry a child they can not provide for - or be forced to give a reason why a pregnancy is being terminated. The only reason it is mentioned here as no viable option is because of the history with the mother.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character #marcus pike #marcus pike x female reader #colleagues to friends to lovers #colleagues to lovers #pregnancy

[randomcollectionitem]

clipping. - Face

https://www.discogs.com/release/11980126-Clipping-Face

Hey, we finally had a record show up! This is the 2018 vinyl reissue of the 2012 debut EP from beloved industrial rap trio Clipping (they stylize it as "clipping." but it fucks up my formatting mojo so I'm sticking to the capital C for this one). The A side is the original 3 track tape, and the B side is remixes and an acapella. This version was released by Deathbomb Arc, the same label that put out the original EP.

I was a little late to the Clipping party and got on board with them shortly after the release of their semi-self-titled debut album, CLPPNG. CLPPNG dropped right after Death Grips broke up and the hype surrounding Clipping on the internet was mostly /mu/ posters heralding them as The Next Death Grips. I always thought that comparison was questionable. Outside of a vague sense of being in the same genre they don't share a lot of DNA, with Clipping pulling heavily from harsh noise and power electronics in contrast to Death Grips' sample-heavy sound fueled by math rock-adjacent live drums. Regardless, the JENNY DEATH WHEN era hype train brought Clipping in front of a relatively big audience of outsider rap nerds looking for another hit of bizarre sounds, and they brought it in spades. After listening to CLPPNG an embarrassing number of times I worked my way back to midcity (their first mixtape) and Face. Face really stuck with me, so I was thrilled to see it reissued in 2018 and picked it up immediately.

The original EP is a short-but-sweet three song affair that wastes no space and takes no prisoners. The opening track, the eponymous Face, is a blistering assault of lighting fast bars, blasts of noise, and a catchy x-rated chorus. It's followed by Studio Freestyle 01, which serves as a sort of mental breather in the middle of the list (as much of one as Clipping will give you at least), with mid-tempo freestyle verses alternating call-and-response style with bursts of harsh noise. The EP rounds out with Block, my personal favorite track from the project. Block showcases Daveed Diggs' uncanny ability to make even the smallest things seem profound and significant. A song about nothing becomes a song about everything as he paints a picture of a city block on top of a slow-burning beat. There are no characters. There is no action and no narrative. And that's the beauty of it.

The B side is a collection of remixes backed with an acapella of the first track. I'm normally not a huge fan of remixes, but the selection here is a fun listen. The first two are remixes of the title track, with the first turning it into a stompy industrial club tune and the second chopping it into a wall of samples (including a shockingly straight-faced interpolation of Gangnam Style, and a slightly less straight-faced interlude of the intro to Never Gonna Give You Up). This is followed by Clipping's remix of This Song Is A Drug Deal, by LA noise rock drum-and-shout group Foot Village. It chops up the spastic drums from the original song and uses them as a bed for some verses from Daveed. The side closes out with the acapella of Face, not exactly critical listening but I'm glad it's out there for DJs and remix artists to take advantage of.

As previously mentioned, the copy in front of me is the 2018 Deathbomb Arc vinyl issue, the only vinyl issue to date. The 2012 original pressing was only on cassette, and this deluxe reissue was also available on cassette with an expanded tracklist containing additional Face remixes. I opted for the vinyl version because, frankly, I lived through tapes the first time around; they sucked then, they suck now, and part of me withers away every time I have to buy a new one. Regardless, the vinyl edition is simple but well-presented. The album art still looks good when blown up to 12"x12", and they did a nice job typesetting the back cover. It includes a download code for the download-inclined, and opts for a polybag rather than a paper inner (I breathe a sigh of relief every time I open a new record and don't need to immediately resleeve the LP, records are too damn expensive now for these labels to cheap out with the crappy paper inners that shed everywhere and scuff your new record up). The pressing is fairly shallow, but my copy plays well with little to no surface noise. The sound is a bit dull, but it's not exactly a hi-fi recording in the first place so I'm not going to complain. No inserts or liner notes on this one, but an EP doesn't really need all that anyways. Overall I think they've done a nice job with the reissue.

I think the beauty of Face is that it paints a fairly complete picture of Clipping in only 3 tracks. You have the high energy sonic assaults, you have the artsy contemplation, and you have the fearless harsh noise and power electronics interludes. While it's not their most essential work, if you want a short elevator pitch for why you should care about Clipping, this is it. A great start to a legendary career. Rest assured, if I keep doing this long enough we'll see plenty of other Clipping releases in the future, so strap in for some more noise rap greatness down the road. In the meantime, may your music stay pleasantly abrasive and may your preferred genitals be in your face.

#album review #discogs #random collection item #face #clipping. #industrial hip hop #noise rap #vinyl #LP #deathbomb arc #clipping #now spinning

[shelleylovesloki]

Warped Reality

Summary: Being a student at the Sanctum Sanctorum is never easy, especially when there is a group of rogue sorcerers led by a mad man on the lose. Rose (Michelle) and Rachel never thought their lives could become any more chaotic. But when Rachel is given an assignment to hunt down Amadeus Rainer, a rogue sorcerer from the Sanctum, their lives both take a drastic turn. Besides a band of evil sorcerers, they are pulled into the mission to retrieve an infinity stone with the potential to open other realms. But while on this mission, past traumas are reopened, powers rediscovered, and realities reshaped in ways that both women never could have imagined. And with the help of a certain God of Mischief, the three sorcerers run into an ancient prophecy that could open up their universe to a villain that reshapes the understanding of magic itself.

Chapter 1: Nightlight

Rachel walked slowly down the New York streets as she followed him from a distance. Her task was simple, wait until he’s isolated, apprehend him, and take him back to the Sanctum. The lights from the buildings lit up the asphalt. Traffic packed the streets, but the sidewalks were oddly clear though. The cold breeze blew through her black coat, making her shiver. 

She focused back on her target. He didn’t seem dangerous. Then again, many of them didn’t. However, this one did feel off. She hadn’t had a good look at his face yet, but the way he walked and his overcoat made him unmistakable.

A few blocks down the street, the man broke off into an alleyway. Rachel didn’t like this. She needed him isolated, but something felt wrong. Going against her better judgement, she continued to follow him. She turned the corner to see him nowhere in sight. He was gone! At least that’s how it seemed. The dagger to her neck proved otherwise.

“I’m insulted.” The man said. His voice was calm, confident, and almost menacing. “Does Stephen really think I’d be overpowered so easily?”

The cold steel rested gently against her skin. She quickly grabbed the man’s wrist and slipped under his arm. She quickly moved back, summoning two circular orange shields from her fists. The man only chuckled. “How adorable! You’re still using default.”

Without another word, the man scaled the wall in several strides. Rachel’s eyes widened at his confidence. She began to climb the wall as fast as she could. How did he just run up the wall so fast?

As she got to the top, the man was already leaping to the next rooftop. She took off after him. Rachel’s breathing grew heavy as she cleared the gap to the third rooftop. Again, he was gone. It was as if he just disappeared from thin air. How could I lose him? She thought to herself.

Suddenly, two black chains shot out from behind her, twisting around her wrists and digging into the roof she was standing on. There was something odd about the chains. A black mist seemed to float and swirl around them. She tried to pull at the chains, but they wouldn’t move. 

Then, footsteps sounded behind her followed by a voice. “Students of the mystic arts have a tendency to forget that they aren’t the only ones that use sling rings.” Now, standing in front of her was the man she was chasing. Finally, she could see her target’s face. His jaw was rounded and clean shaven. His gray eyes pierced her own as his dark brown hair swooped down near his right eye. He was dressed as if he were going to some sort of meeting. A black trench coat was worn over black slacks and a cool gray button down shirt.

Gently, he grabbed her chin and turned her head side to side as if he were looking for something. “Such a delicate flower. Stephen truly is an idiot.” The man paused. He released Rachel’s chin and took a step back. “I’m so sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Amadeus. Amadeus Rainer. And you are?” Rachel glared at him. “Oh come now. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“Rachel.” she said coldly. He stood staring, waiting for a more complete answer. “Rachel Dawn.”

Amadeus smiled. “There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it, Rachel?” He took another step back and began to pace across the roof. “Now, normally if someone were following me to bring me to that doctor you so blindly follow, I’d kill them without hesitation.” Rachel began to pull frantically at the chains. “Oh I wouldn’t bother with those. They won’t budge.” A beat “As I was saying. I would normally kill them, but there’s something about you.” Amadeus looked at her again as if he were searching for a response.  “However,I would much rather plunge myself into the dark realm than to harm such a beautiful creature as yourself.”

She stood in fear as he took out a syringe and plunged it into her neck. Slowly her vision went black.

                                                           ***

Amadeus caught Rachel as her body went limp. He slowly lowered her down so that she wouldn’t bash her head on the concrete. He took a closer look at his assailant. She had a fire that not many had. His eyes moved to her shoulder length hair. Within her brown hair held a small tint of a red hue.

“It’s cold outside, Rachel.” He said, taking off his overcoat and placing it over Rachel. “I’d hate for anything to happen to you. Let’s see if I can remember how to do this.”

He waved his hands over Rachel causing a protective orange lining to surround her small frame. Then, he knelt to the rooftop and put his palm to it until a white light formed under his hand. He pulled his hand away, releasing a beam of white light into the sky.

He sighed as he admired his work. “Doctor Strange should be able to lift the enchantment when he finds you. Until then, sweet dreams, Rachel Dawn.”

#oc #oc fanfiction #fancfiction #fanfic #loki x oc #oc x oc #doctor strange #stephen strange #loki #infinity stone #multiverse #mcu #sanctum sanctorum #marvel magic #reality stone #baron mordo #wong #marvel universe

[paladinbaby]

screaming at the moon in black lipstick for the snippets ask??? LOVE a mismag moment!!! alternately/also the naddpod c3 sketch 👀

screaming at the moon in black lipstick is a canon divergent mismag fic where on the very first day tallulah is a bitch and instead of Evan teleporting the guy into the sea, k accesses the same magic and throws tallulah into a wall and from then on she can use magic from the same evil guy that Evan does. I kind of dropped off it bc I wasn’t sure how to give it a plot that felt satisfying but it was about name feelings and friend feelings and poly pilot program feelings

She senses the spark of Tallulah’s wand across the scuppers field rather than sees it, the metallic thing gathering perfect sparkling flecks of magic from the air. Evan must see it too, but he doesn’t look sad, doesn’t try to move, just stares down the blonde across the field. She doesn’t know what’s about to happen but she knows deep in the part of her that never had any power that whatever it is will be terrible.

Her magic comes to her in black ribbons and pink sparks, the distance closing between them impossibly fast. Even as she moves she knows it won’t be enough and the sludge returns heavy in her hands, leaking through her fingers. She thinks she might be screaming and the thing they all know lives in Evan’s shadow turns to her with eyes filled with the same black goo.

She does the only thing she can, she makes a deal. And it’s the easiest thing in the world.

They’re in the common room and the air smells like bubblegum and blood. Evan is lying still on the ground, thrown from the impact of her body colliding into his and in the seconds of silence all she can see is Tallulah’s body on her very first day. Then he moves and a voice in her head that wasn’t there before gives her a message that reverberates in every one of her nerve endings.

WHAT HAVE YOU GIVEN FOR THIS.

To say she hears it would be wrong. It’s a thought but not one of hers and from the look on Evan’s face he thinks it too. He’s beautiful, flushed from the Scuppers game, with some of his hair tied up and done in tiny braids by Sam. She is glad she could protect him, though she thinks he will hate what comes next.

Before he can start to say any of the things she knows are bubbling on the back of his tongue she replies to the voice with all the conviction she can. I am giving you some piece of myself. She can’t bear to speak the words but she feels them so deeply that she knows this thing that haunts her friend has to hear them. His eyes flash sludge dark across the room but this is her choice to make, she’s the one that saw the glittering build up of sparks. She has made her choices and he can’t stop her, no matter how much he must want to.

Shadows leak out of the walls around them, if she squints they form into waltzing figures. A twisting, laughing wall that now traps them in and the friends they left behind out. And when Evan looks at her, he knows what she’s done and she watches his heart break in real time.

putting naddpod c3 art under a cut to avoid this showing up a mile long

[Image Description: A messy sketch of Calliope Petrichor in a white void, looking up and crying. There are some notes on the sketch and underneath her reads ‘you find yourself very much alone’ in block caps. End ID. ]

This is from the end of the mothership arc when they’re in their voids pushing back against alexandrite and this is such a good line and when I get the chance I’m going back to this but I need that time to puzzle out a Callie design.

#personal #my writing #ask #i think that bottom note says storm cape? #anyway Callie is my pathetic wet babygirl and I would die for her #wip game

[sixofclovers]

critrole post apocalypse punk future is now 

#critical role #campaign 3 #critrole #ashton #ashton greymoore #fcg #fresh cut grass #critical role spoilers #spoilers #soc art #had to power through some Fast and Heavy art block for this one #but i love them #list of he/theys id die for:

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

The Glitch

I get the Broken Reality au is a haha funny joke but there’s been some legit great art for it and since Butterfly is over and I haven’t gotten into the groove of my other projects yet, I decided to try some flash fiction of my interpretations. Note that this is very small and informal; I used whatever idea came into my head over the course of an hour or so instead of the weeks of planning that go into my usual fics. This was an experiment for fun. But if people enjoy the concept, I may be tempted to expand on it.

Credit to @lollitree @moonpaw @gentrychild​ @owlf45​ and @cyber-phobia​ (I’m sorry if I missed someone I lost track of how many people were involved in this mess).

Content working for reference to infant death.

Please enjoy!

The city shut down for a typhoon warning.  Thunder rumbled in the distance.  Dark clouds blocked the sun so much that by mid-morning it still looked like it never bothered coming up.  And yet the humidity made it too hot for coffee.  Inko didn’t know how to feel.  Work would have been a good distraction.  But she didn’t want any coworkers or clients to see if today got to be too much.  And it was already shaping up to be.  She caught herself making two plates of food for breakfast.  

Inko sat alone in the kitchen.  She couldn’t bring herself to finish her own plate.  Sickness set in fast.  The food had been cold for a long time before she summoned the strength to get up and throw it away.  Then she stood over the open trash can a while, debating whether to try and hold it together, or just throw up and get it over with.  She eventually managed to keep her stomach steady enough to go back to her bedroom.  There was another trashcan in there anyway.

A sound stopped her.  From her office.  The distinct sound of something heavy falling onto the carpet.  Right as she walked past the door.

Please not this again…

She opened the door with her eyes closed.  Her mind conjured a familiar image.  A bedroom full of books and hero posters.  Bright colors and personal touches.  A child’s room.  Inko opened her eyes to her drab home office.  Some of the older case file binders slipped off the pile again.  She really needed to sort those into storage. Not today though.  She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Inko walked faster than normal the rest of the way to her room.  She doesn’t want to face the temptation to search for old toys she remembers storing in the empty closet.  Or search the walls for scuff marks from action figures tossed into them she could always see even after the walls were painted. She hid her planner on a tall shelf and put the ladder away to make it that much harder to go through it over and over looking for doctors’ appointments and school events she knew were coming up.  Finally reaching her bed brought no comfort.

Of course she knew today’s date by heart.  She hadn’t put it on a calendar in the fourteen years since she used to look at it every day.  Inko stuck her head under her pillows, as if they could block out the silent noise of her memories.  Memories of before, the time even when she was by herself, she was never alone.

Fifteen years now, today.  With a shuddering gasp, the tears finally came.  Thunder crashed outside.  It’s not fair!  Why is it still this hard after this long?  Phantom kicks in her belly joined the growing ice there.

The hardest part was she still felt like that sometimes.  Like she wasn’t really alone.  Inko didn’t believe in ghosts, but the lost of what could have been was more than haunting enough.  She felt it watching her.  Judging her. Waiting just long enough for her to settle down into a peaceful, content existence before it reared up to plague her heart all over again.  Cliché hauntings like spooky faces in the mirror or blood coming out of the drains would have been preferable.  Those would be generic enough not to remind her directly.

Rain started outside.  Her phone lit up with a notification she ignored in time with a thunderclap.  The storm was getting closer.

Maybe I should call Hisashi, the thought crossed her mind.  Maybe he’s going through this too.  She bit her lip bloody.  Her frustrated memories weren’t in question like the others.  Probably not though.  I don’t want to talk to him anyway.

Hisashi had been stuck in the denial stage of grief, which often came off as him acting like he didn’t take hers seriously.  Not a year, not even half a year looking back, after they came home from the hospital, he wanted to try again.  

“We can’t let mourning hold us up forever,” he said.  “And it’s not like we lost a once in a lifetime opportunity!  We’ve got at least another twenty years to keep trying!”

But we did lose him! she had wanted to scream.  Still did, years later.  Why didn’t he understand?  He was your loss too!  Inko wanted for the next roll of thunder, then shouted.  

“I don’t just want any baby!  I want Izuku!”

The lights went out.  The temperature rose five degrees instantly when the ceiling fan stopped going.  The rain stopped.

Power outage.  Inko sat up with a sniffle.  Turns out the notification was a warning about roving blackouts.  Of course.  Oh well. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook tonight any-

Thunder boomed even louder than before, making her jump.  Then another.  Lightning flashed outside at the same time.  It was right on top of her.

What?  I thought the typhoon wasn’t supposed to make landfall until later toni-

Another crash.  It vibrated through her bones.  Then another. The lightning lit up her whole room. Except for a shadow on the wall. Inko jolted to look, holding her breath, and found only her own shadow in the next flash.

“I’m such an idiot…”  She went for her phone again.  For peace of mind, she decided to use her data to check if an evacuation order went out. Or any updates at all really, since the weather came so much faster than the news said.  “Nothing,” she sighed annoyed.  “I hate being alone for weather like this…”

A new notification pinged.

[Mom]

Inko blinked rapidly.  The message remained.  All of her insides turned inside out in an instant, and she started crying again. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? No one ever got a chance to call her that.  She touched the note to open it, but nothing happened.  No app or source was displayed.  Nor did it go away after a few seconds like normal.  

“Wha- What’s going on?” she wept.  In a mix of sorrow and rage, she wound up to chunk the device across the room.  But she froze.

Outside her window, floating against the pitch-black sky, were two small orbs.  Perfectly circular and glowing.  Watching her. She didn’t dare move.  

Another ping.  She looked without moving.

[I’m sorry]

“…  What?”

For a moment, all the sounds in the world dropped out.  They all came back at ounce.

Lights flickered.  Both the ones inside and the lightning going outside.  Multiple strikes laid on top of one another.  No relief.  Thunder pounded over and over like a drum solo.  It shook the whole building.  Inko ran into the closet away from the window.  She slammed her hands over her eyes but it didn’t help.  Her terrified cried were whispers to the screams of the storm.

A child’s scream.  She heard it. Each flash of light came with a cry. The distinct sound of a little boy calling out in pain blended with unyielding nature.  It came from every direction.  Every hair on Inko’s arms stood up in fear.  She felt the charge in the air.  But she had to go out.  Her baby was crying for help.

She burst from the closet into the living room.  All the lights and appliances turned themselves on and off.  The TV showed only static between its flashes. Something drew her too it.  The storm was deafening.  It pounded through her head like a heartbeat.  The beats got faster.  The static flashes started to look like a face.  Her usual caution was abandoned as she fell to her knees and touched the screen.  The snow cleared for a single instant.  Just long enough to look like the blank eyes from the window.  She felt the heartbeat there too.

Then it stopped.  All of it. The noise and lights all went quiet and dark.  The TV went completely cold in an instant.  Inko, stunned, palmed over it looking for something.  Anything.  The pulse. Warmth.  A burnt fuse or faulty wire.  But nothing.  The rain started again.

She pulled her hands back to her lap.  Her heart was still racing and tears kept flowing down under her chin. She looked around.  Everything in the living room and kitchen looked the same. No sign of the earthquake-like convolutions the whole appartement experienced only minutes ago.  Inko combed the entire space for evidence.  An object knocked off the shelf.  A picture frame fallen from the wall.  The notifications.  Toys in the closet or scuffs in the wall.  Still not a sign.  She even stepped outside her door to check the sky.  Only light rain and shattered thunder, just like the news said the day before.

There was only one thing out of place.  Back in her bedroom, the bottom drawer of her nightstand hung open.  Inko had to steal herself before approaching it. There were only two things in there: a little green blanket, and a picture of the ultrasound.  The most recent one from her last appointment. The doctor said he was doing fine.

“Izuku…” she whispered to it in her hand.

She remembered the squealing little bundling being put in her arms for the first time.  The first time he smiled at her.  Teaching him to walk, then immediately launching into play.  Him coming home with bruises and scrapes after the kids at school were mean to him, and crying in her arms.  Then, him coming home with his first real friends in a long time. She made them all dinner. Katsudon.  That was Izuku’s favorite.

Only she didn’t remember.  The same way she didn’t really remember the toys and scuffs.  Those were fantasies.  Daydreams of what could have been.  She just thought about them so often they felt like memories. Especially today.  It was his birthday after all.  They’d fade back into vague dreams by tomorrow.  They always did.  

And she would be left with reality.  The silence.  The cold, still little hand between her fingers.  Soft cheeks without blush.  Eyes that never opened.  Clutching him too tight to her chest, knowing the second she let go he would be gone for real and it would all be over.  

But it was never over.  Inko went through this same torturous song and dance every year for fifteen now.  All the guilt and dread would subside slowly over the next one, until it all came back at once.  Just like this.

At least it’s done for now, she tried to reassure herself, climbing back into bed. It still wasn’t even noon yet.  Plenty of time for another breakdown.  Hopefully the next one won’t be, feel, as loud.  She sighed heavily into her sheets.  This sort of thing can’t be normal.  I should really try therapy again.

Against her better judgement, she kept the blanket out, and clutched it to her chest.  Static electricity pricked her fingers.  With her other hand, she reached across the bed, and tried to imagine someone else there. Not Hisashi, never him anymore.  Izuku.  He was fifteen and happy, but the storm was making him nervous so he came to lay beside her.  She remembered it like it was now.  If she closed her eyes, she could feel his warm, soft skin, with a healthy, if a little anxious heartbeat just underneath.  The mattress warped as he sighed.

“We’ll be okay.  It’s just a little rough weather,” she promised.

“Okay, Mom,” Izuku answered quietly.  “…  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”  I’ll start trying to get myself together tomorrow.  For now, let me have this.

Izuku didn’t respond for a while.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.  Happy birthday.”

#midoriya inko #midoriya izuku #broken reality au #the glitch #mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #aconstantstateoffanfiction #april fools #the long con

[mmvalentine]

prompt request for part 2 of your utm fic? pretty please? :)

NONNIE I ALMOST SAID NO hahaha honestly @asteria-of-mars is cooking up some WILD dark!Rhys and if you're looking to not know if you're turned on or horrified I can recommend her fic Undone. She is better at this than me. But okay I'll give this a little whirl just for you, because your please was so pretty.

Fuck You, Feyre Darling Pt 2 (Mercy)

Read Part 1

Guilty.

That's all that was swirling around in my head for the next two days: guilty, guilty, guilty. I was a bad person, I was a cheater, I was so full of shame I could have choked on it.

But then Rhysand appeared in the same corner of my cell that he always did, and I had a better idea of where to place my anger.

"You fucking prick," I spat at him. He just raised his eyebrows.

"Dear me," he said. "And just what have I done to raise your ire today?"

"You made me cheat on Tamlin," I said, knowing full well that was neither true nor fair.

"I didn't," Rhys said mildly, flicking a speck of lint off his lapel.

"You did," I snapped. I stepped up to him. "You and your fucking mind tricks." My chin jerked up to stare into his eyes. Most powerful High Lord in all of Prythian? I didn't give a damn.

"I assure you, I don't need mind tricks to coax females into my bed," Rhys said, and his unaffected air was infuriating.

"You forced me," I ground out. "Admit it."

"Admit something that's not true?"

"Admit it!"

"Why Feyre?"

"Because!" I yelled. "If I wanted it then I'm a terrible person and I'm here in this horrible place to save Tamlin only to find that I don't deserve him anyway." My voice broke on the last word, and to my horror, a sob cracked in my chest.

Not again, I thought. I couldn't bear the thought of breaking down in front of Rhys, not again. He already had so much of me.

But Rhys just stood there a moment, with his hands in his pockets. Then he said, "Fine," and then the world blurred and we were back in his room.

Rhys pushed me back onto the bed, and I fell, startled.

"So what, Feyre?" he asked. I realised with shock that he was angry. "What do you want?"

Despite the darkness of the room, his violet eyes seemed to glow brighter than ever.

"Do you want me to have forced you, so you don't have to feel guilty? Or do you want to be forced because you deserve to be punished?"

Rhys pulled his jacket off and threw it onto a chair by the wall. I shrank back against the headboard, suddenly nervous.

"Because see now, I may be a whore but I'll not have some mortal questioning my honour." He knelt up on the bed in front of me, and rolled up his sleeves.

"However, if you were after a punishment," he paused, and removed his belt to fold it in his hand. Then he gave me a grin that was all teeth and no smile at all. "You only had to ask."

The anger still coiled in his voice, and now, now I was scared of him.

I didn't know what I was expecting- I had goaded him, but not thought through what would happen next. And now here we were, back in his room, and I couldn't tell where my fear stopped and my anticipation began.

What I did know is that the heaviness of the shame in my limbs had been replaced by adrenaline and that was a trade I was only too happy to make.

"Well?" Rhys demanded. "Is the cruel little creature here to repent for her sins?

And Cauldron damn me to the deepest depths of hell, my lips parted and I whispered, "yes."

"Good," Rhys snarled, and then quick as lightning he had grabbed my ankle and jerked me back down the bed. Disappeared my clothes by magic, rolled me over onto my stomach, where I tried to drag myself away with my hands but he yanked me back by the hips and slapped me hard across the ass.

I gasped, as pain burst before my eyes. I forgot everything, I knew nothing at all expect for the flash of sensation, and then a flooding peace. Yes. This is what I deserved. Rhys buckled his belt around my ankles.

"Is this what you wanted?" Rhys hissed in my ear. I hadn't noticed him moving closer.

"Yes," I whispered. Rhys spanked me a second time, and that white hot flash popped in my vision again.

"Is this what you needed, you wicked mortal thing?"

"Yes," I said again, and it came out as a moan.

"Beg me," Rhys commanded. He landed three more stinging slaps, and I couldn't help but gasp at each one. "Beg me for mercy."

He smacked me once more, and leaned down to my ear again. "Beg me, and I will deny you."

And I would never know how to admit this out loud, not to Rhys, not to Tamlin, not to anyone. But it was exactly what I craved.

So I pushed my hips up toward Rhys, turned my face to the side, and breathed, "Mercy."

"No," Rhys replied coldly, and then I was spanked on the top of my ass, on the join to my thigh on either side, and then once right over my bare pussy.

The shock of the last had my fingers curling in the sheets. It was so unexpected that at first my legs clenched together automatically- but then as the pain faded it was replaced by a spreading heat and my muscles relaxed completely.

The next touch was a rub of his hand over my reddened backside and down between my legs, and where he had slapped me my skin was so sensitive I shook hard under his fingers.

"And now what, Feyre darling?" Rhys asked. His voice was low and dangerous. I rode the edge of pain and fear and pleasure, and couldn't form words. When Rhys stroked his hand down me again, I realised I was thoroughly wet from being spanked.

"Do you need to be fucked now?" he crooned.

"Yes," I said, and even though he wasn't touching me at all now, my breaths came in pants.

"Do you need to be pounded so hard it feels like you're not in control?" Rhys asked me.

"Yes," I repeated, not able to say any more than that for the shame of it.

"Beg me again," Rhys said.

"Please," I whimpered. "Mercy."

Rhys's fingers slipped back between my legs, finding my clit and rubbing tight, fast circles into it. My hips bucked at the suddenness of the motion, and then the pleasure began to pool. I wanted to push my knees apart on the bed to get closer to his touch, but his belt still bound by ankles together. I arched my back instead, and Rhys's steady rhythm had me careening toward my orgasm faster than I thought possible.

"Rhys," I moaned.

"Yes Feyre?" he said. "Are you going to come?"

"Yes, oh gods, yes," I said, and my toes curled as my climax crested-

And then Rhys pulled his hand away and slapped me across the backside instead.

I let out a frustrated groan, and Rhys purred, "Again."

It took me a moment to figure out what he wanted. Then, "please," I begged. "Mercy."

Rhys's fingers returned, but this time he was sliding them into me and moving infuriatingly slowly. I rocked my hips back and forth on his hand, trying to build his pace. It was almost enough.

"Please," I said again. Breathlessly. Desperately. "Please."

Rhys's fingers sped up and curled to that spot inside me, and then I was chasing my climax again. My head spun, then buzzed as I found-

Nothing. Rhys's fingers slipped out of me and I was spanked again, on the other side, and hot tears sprang to my eyes. A combination of the sudden pain and the sharper frustration.

"Please Rhys!" I cried out. "Please, please, mercy, please."

Rhys's voice in my ear, one more time. "Do you deserve it?" he asked. "Do you deserve pleasure?"

"No," I whispered.

"That's right," he replied. And then sank his cock deep inside me nonetheless.

Rhys was not gentle, Rhys did not give me time to acclimatise. Just pushed inside my already soaking pussy and fucked me hard with my ankles tied the entire time. As wound up as I was, he had barely gotten started when my orgasm slammed into me. I came soundlessly on his cock, tears blocking my throat, my lips mouthing his name into the sheets.

Once my high had subsided, Rhys pulled out, removed the belt from my ankles, and turned my over on my back. I was so wrung out I barely registered the movement. And then with a shocking gentleness, he came back to me. Pulled my legs around his waist and slid inside me again- but this time moved with a rolling consistency that had me building up again, coasting on the brink of pleasure rather than screaming toward it, and when this orgasm came I was in the middle of it before I had known it'd begun.

My back arched up into Rhys's arms and he pressed kisses down my sternum as I came, and then just when I thought I'd start coming down his hips got faster and his own release triggered a new wave for me, too. I held on to him as he shuddered into me, and it wasn't until he had rolled onto his back and pulled me into his chest that I realised he had stopped punishing me.

"Rhys?" I asked softly.

"Mm?"

"Am I a bad person?"

Rhys sighed into the dark, and when he spoke he did not sound like his usual, arrogant self. He just sounded tired.

"No Feyre," he said, "you're not a bad person."

"I'm betraying someone I love," I argued.

"We're Under the Mountain, now," Rhys said. "We're only just surviving. And here, that is enough.”

We lay there for a while longer, until I thought I could almost fall asleep there in the High Lord's arms. What an absurd thought.

"I'm ready to go back to my cell now," I whispered.

"In the morning," was all Rhys said, and then he turned us and tugged me back against his chest facing away from him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I gave in. After all, there would be plenty of time to feel bad about it all if we survived at all. And maybe that was a mercy I could grant myself.

****

Eeee stop making me go UTM anons, it's toooo sad I'm gonna leave this dark edgy shit to Liz now and go back to my palace of fluff 🥺🥺

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

#asks #prompt fill #feysand #feysand fic #acotar #smut #angst #mine #am I doing it? #am I writing dark!rhys now?

[jimlingss]

Moirai [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 5.8k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

➜ Notes: Isekai is a popular manga and light novel genre in which characters from Earth are transported into a new world.

This is the end.   “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”   The Prince stands tall, the very furrow of his brows jarring against the cold, cordial expression he maintains — the one she had always tried to shatter. All she desired was something other than courtesy. If not affection then frustration or misery. But she supposes that anger suffices.   Anger. The first time he’s ever looked at her with an ounce of any true feeling.   His shadow looms over her, his status powerful as the countless eyes are narrowed in around her — he is as powerful as the people who stand behind him. Every word he speaks booms through the ballroom, a grand timbre that has long replaced the mellifluous violins.    The Prince is as noble as he is righteous. He is the hero of this story.   “You choose to answer your crimes with silence?!”   The corner of her lips curl and cackles rasp from her throat. The noise is discordant and shrill, a mocking irony when it causes him to pull the woman in his arms closer. Even when she’s in this position, downcast head, knees burnt on the carpet, all she does is drive them closer together.   “The only sins I have ever committed was loving you until my last breath.”   “Guards!”   Murmurs spark across the room and the knights armour clank as they approach in heavy steps. She knows these are the last moments. “The only crime I have is looking out for the empire! But you chose her.” She looks upon the girl he holds, the one who has the same contempt on her visage. And as the knights rip her away from her place, she spits venom-laced words, “A lowly baron’s adopted daughter to make your wife. I am the duke’s daughter. I am educated. I am your fiancée—”   “No longer.” He condemns, “You have committed treason. Conspiracy against the crown. Attempted murder. Forgery. Harassment. Using your status to oppress the vulnerable—”   “Let go of me!” she shrieks as the guards drag her down the room. It’s undignified. Degrading.   “—Daring to entangle yourself with the dark arts. And you will answer to these crimes whether you choose to confess or not.”    “Let go of me!” she struggles, yet no one chooses to hear.    Their eyes have pierced into her, those who aren’t scandalized are snickering behind their feathered fans. But in the last seconds, status has no place. She looks to the person who matters most, the one she had spent her childhood idolizing. Her beliefs hold true. He will make a great ruler.   But she will never be the one to stand beside him. She knows now.   That position has long been stolen away from her.   “Everything I did,” she cries, “I did for yo—”   The grand doors slam shut with her pitched screams resounding.    Moments later, the lively music continues, violins and trumpets crescendoing to life once more. As if her life had just not been taken away from her. As if the denunciation was merely an intermission of tonight’s festivities.   Her heinous exterior is shattered by tears that no one would have sympathy for. She is limp when she is thrown into the stone jail cell within the depths of the castle. The knights twist on their heel and she is surrounded in pitch darkness with the sound of a scurrying rat echoing beside her.   The only time there is light is by the dim flame of the torch, a guard accompanying a frightened servant who carries a bowl of spoiled oats. It’s not enough to satisfy the grumble of her stomach, but enough to keep her alive for the execution day. Without a silver fork or spoon in hand, a handkerchief placed in her lap, seated by a candlelit table, she resorts to using her fingers to scoop the food into her mouth.   Sometimes, she thinks they forget about her.   Or perhaps time is simply drawn in darkness. A second made into a minute. A minute is an hour. She is merely left leaning against the molded stone, wasted away and drunk on memories of better places.   Punishment does not come in the form of her stripped title or even her head rolling away from her neck. Punishment arrives in the darkened loneliness. That loss of sanity that whisper she has failed to capture the attention of the only person she ever loved. That she failed to make him love her.   Everything she did, it drove him away.   Every act of love placed distance between them.   Everything.   Liberation comes back with the music of trumpets muffled by the stone walls. “What’s going on?” her voice is hoarse through her parched throat. The servant screams when her arm reaches past the bars to tug on the girl’s dress. Her eyes are bleary as she looks up at the girl. “Why is it so noisy?”   “T-The civil war’s over.” The girl backs away and the celebrations become more distinct with the realization. “The villain is dead.”   The girl withdraws into the cell and cackles rip through her lungs, resounding across the empty chambers. The servant scurries away as the knight huffs out through his nose and shakes his head. But it’s the best news she’s received since she’s been stowed away.    And a smile still graces her features when she is dragged out and jostled by the knights, taken up to where the sun blinds her vision.   “On the eve of the Solar Festival, we rid our empire of yet another villain and free it from treachery!”   There are cacophonous cheers in the crowd. Her eyes are hurt by the sunlight and she shuts them tight. Her legs are kicked and she’s knocked onto her knees, head being shoved against wood. She wishes she didn’t have to face the sun rays. There’s no decency to give her shade.   But the discomfort is over by the blade slicing through the air. She lives and both dies as the villainess — an inevitable legacy.            ❇ End of Royal Romances Chapter 7 -Prince Route- ❇

Headbeams.   Fuck.   You never thought it would be like all those cheesy movies — the third Batman film, Grey’s Anatomy, the Simpsons, hell even Attack on Titan. But nope. They’re right. Time really does slow and your life really does flash by your eyes when you’re in the moment of your death.    But instead of feeling grief for yourself, all you can think about is what an absolute idiot you are.   You really shouldn’t have jaywalked at night. That cheesecake in the fridge was supposed to be yours! And holy shit, your parents are going to be really fucking mad that you died at only twenty—   The truck slams into you before you can finish your thought.   …………... ……….. ……. ….. ... .. .   Strangely, it doesn’t hurt. Maybe because it happened so fast. Maybe the initial impact was already enough to end your life. But you’re left feeling an empty void inside of yourself. An overwhelming agony that this is the end. That you never got the chance to fulfill your dreams, enjoy the fruits of your labour, that you never got to reach the happiness you wanted.   You have regrets.   Not for the things that you did. But for the things that you didn’t do.   But well….you suppose there’s no use in lingering in it.   Death is the end.   This is the end.   ……. ….. ... .. .   “—ook...t ...er...!”   “..hush!”   What?   Why are you hearing noises? Why does your face feel warm?   Are you in...heaven? Some sort of afterlife?! Oh man, you knew you deserved this! Fuck yes! You might have kicked that kid’s shin in the fourth grade and totally lied to your manager that one time that you cleaned the ice-cream machine when you didn’t, but your wrongdoings aren’t that bad.   You open your eyes.   Unusually, your vision is blurred. All you can make out is a fuzzy figure looming over you.   Your mouth opens—   “Waah!”   What the fuck. You can’t speak. Each time your lips part, drool dripples onto your chin.   In a panic, you try to move your body, but quickly find yourself heavy and practically stuck. You cry out and swing your arm, and that’s when your hand flashes before your eyes.   Your pupils focus and you realize that your hand is tiny. That you can barely curl and uncurl your fingers together. Holy shit. Holy fuck—   You’re a baby.   Wailing sobs burst out of your tiny lungs.    You don’t know where you are or how this happened. Your last memory is being hit by a truck!   The figure looming above you comes closer. “What is wrong with her?!”   The woman sounds annoyed, but it’s not like it's your fault. This is just a lot to take in.   Your mouth is blocked by a pacifier being shoved in. Immediately, you spit it out and the woman sighs. “Why is she being so fussy?”   That’s not the issue, lady! Christ, you wish you could communicate with her.   You feel yourself being picked up and she angrily mutters, “If the Devereux household wasn’t paying me so much, I would’ve just thrown you out the window.”   Wait. Say what now? Devereux?    Why does that sound so familiar?   You hear another woman’s voice, one that’s higher pitched and softer. “What’s wrong with little Anastasia?”   “Have you finished hanging the laundry yet?”   “Yes, I have.” You’re being passed on and your sobs subside in favour of a frown. Anastasia?   Anastasia Devereux.   You remember cursing that name out loud before, but where was—   Oh my god. Oh my god! It’s impossible, but the truth is right in front of your eyes. You’re living through it right now. This isn’t a dream. No. It’s your game, Royal Romances.    You’ve been reincarnated into the fictional country of Ashea. And of all people, you’ve been reborn as the villainess, Anastasia Devereux.   You burst out crying again.   //   A man in a coat and frilly shirt enters the room. Your head adjusts to see through the wooden bars of your bassinet, vision becoming clearer by the day. You know who he is without an announcement.   Your father. At least he’s supposed to be.   “How is the child?” he asks the maid.   “She is healthy, your grace. She may be a bit fussy at times, but she sleeps and eats well.”   He hums and leaves shortly after, never once coming to personally see or even hug you.    What an asshole. This entire world is fucked. You’re fucked.   Royal Romances is a love story game between a heroine and several potential matches depending on the route you take. Yet in every route, the main protagonist's rival, the Marquess and the Crown Prince’s fiancée, ends up co-conspiring with the villain and dies because of his crimes. Or exiled. Two options.   And you’ve taken her place.   But now that you think about it, that’s so unfair! You didn’t care much about Anastasia while playing, other than wanting her to get the fuck out of the picture for your OTP ship to sail. But why should the villainess shoulder the villain’s crimes?! If anything, it was him who coerced her! All Anastasia wanted was to be with the Crown Prince! He was the only person who ever showed her an ounce of kindness!   Oh god.   All you know now is that you don’t want to die.   You died too early in your past life.   “Anastasia.” You’re shaken awake from your thick slumber by soft cooing. A quiet woman’s voice calls and when you open your eyes, you’re able to focus on a woman you’ve never seen before but is familiar at the same time. She smiles and picks you up. “Good afternoon.”    Instead of fussing around like you usually would, a triumphant smile spreads into your face.   Fucking finally. It’s the first time you’ve seen your ‘mother’. Maybe she’s just been recovering from the birth these past few months. After all, there’s no way the family would actually just abandon you to a bunch of maids—   “Oh my goodness, Elanor!” A shrill voice has your senses tingling. There’s another woman sitting at the rounded table fanning herself with an orange, feathered fan. “What a lovely daughter!”   “Yes, she really is. She hardly cries.”   Now that’s a big fat lie.   You’ve probably cried a thousand times since you got here. It’s not your fault the maids don’t know how to put you in anything other than scratchy dresses and forget to change your underwear after you’ve shit yourself.   Another stranger approaches you and practically digs their nose into your face. Her floral perfume almost has you retching and spewing out an entire bottle of milk in her face. “She is simply too delightful! She has Herrick’s eyes and your nose.”   “Really now? I think she’s growing up to look more and more like the Duke each day.”   “Oh she’ll grow up to be a beauty. You are truly blessed, Elenor.”   Cordial laughter fills the room.   Motherfucker. She’s just using you as a decor! You’re a prop for her to show off at her tea party! She doesn’t care about you whatsoever.    But fine. You can play along with her. It’s not like you have any choice.   You muster an enormous gooey smile, channeling all the cuteness you know you must have and instantly, several of the ladies swoon. It’s an overwhelming victory! But one that requires a lot of energy when you were just awakened from your nap — and squeezing your butt cheeks results in the grumble of your stomach.   Being a few months old, you have poor control of your digestive system. So it’s no surprise that smiling so hard makes you shit your pants.    Oops.   The lump falls into your cloth diaper and instantly, your mother’s brow twitches.   The stench reaches her nose and the nostrils of the lady intruding into your space who immediately draws back in disgust. But what the hell are they expecting?! You’re a baby! All you do is eat, sleep and shit!   “Edith!”    Your mother’s shrill cry has the maid coming into the room. “Yes, your grace?”   “Take Anastasia.”   She passes you off without even looking and you’re swiftly taken away from the room, hearing the laughter and conversations resume the moment the doors close. So cruel!    “Ugh. I’ve never seen a baby who cries so much,” Edith complains and plops you into the bassinet instead of comforting you. If you had limb strength and mobility, you’d slap her for being so rude.   The younger maid with the higher-pitched voice looms over you. “Maybe it’s because she knows the Duke and Duchess never come to visit. She’s missing the comfort of a mother and father.”   Thank god someone can sympathize with you! As incompetent as Joan is — to the point where she’s checking your pants for the tenth time when you’re really just crying because you’re starving — at least she’s not a Karen.   Clearly, the bar is quite low.   “Well, it’s expected.” Edith steps away to fold the basket of your dresses. “The Duke and Duchess tried having children for years and the only child they have is a daughter who can’t even carry the family name. If it was a son, it would be different.”   “I don’t understand.” Joan rushes to the head maid’s side. “Usually daughters are treasured in noble families.”   Edith looks around and lowers her volume. “Don’t you know?”   “Know what?”   “Keep your voice down! If you say this outside, even I won’t be able to help you.” There’s a pause. “The Duke and Duchess aren’t real nobles, they don’t have any noble blood. The Duke’s late father, Arnold, fought heroically in the war and that’s why the King granted his family the title.”   “Oh…but...what does that have to do with anything?”   “Noble society is different from how we know it, you naive girl. No matter what you do, hundreds of eyes are constantly on you. It’s full of scrutiny and someone in power today might be exiled tomorrow. Having a son would’ve made it easier for the Devereux household to maintain their title and prestige.”   Joan sighs, finally realizing why things are the way they are. She comes to you and leans over the bassinet. “Poor thing. It’s not even her fault.”   She gives you her finger and you happily wrap your entire hand around it. Hell yeah! Finally someone’s feeling bad for your shitty situation.   But the older woman with wrinkles around her eyes scoffs. “There’s no use worrying about her. You should be more worried about yourself. If the House of Devereux fails to keep their power and wealth, we’ll be out of a job.”   Joan hums and pries her finger away from your grasps.   You frown and the next time the head maid feeds you, you puke all over her.    But you know what she said is true. It’s the reason why the real Anastasia felt like she needed to become the crown princess, why she tried so hard to make everyone around her approve of her. Aside from loving the Prince, she was desperate for recognition, desperate to fulfill her family’s wishes, and to maintain her family’s lineage without slipping from the status quo.   But you’re different.   You don’t care about those things. You’ll prove yourself on your own and do whatever it takes to survive.   Quickly. Quickly! You want to grow up and walk on your own two feet so you can protect yourself.   After all, no one else in this house will.   You stretch your arm in the air, curling your fingers together, staring up at the starry mobile.    But it’s hard in the body of a mere infant and you fall asleep in the midst of your exercise session, succumbing to the temptation of slumber with heavy lids.

Four years later.   “Are you colouring, my lady?”   “Nooo.”   You’re writing. And it’s not just anything — it’s battle plans.    To anyone, it’s merely incoherent scribbles, a result of poor motor skills you have yet to refine. But it’s actually your life or death.   You don’t need status or power. Living in the countryside and living fruitfully is good enough. All you want is to live a long, peaceful life.   In the original story, after Anastasia’s eighteenth birthday, she was condemned for countless crimes, thrown in prison and then executed within the matter of weeks. All because of three people: the heroine, the Crown Prince, and the villain.   To avoid the effect, you should avoid the cause. Therefore, you need to do whatever you can to avoid these three!   It’s genius! Truly, if anyone knew how your four year old brain operated, you would be hailed as the next prophe—   “Get ready.” Edith interrupts your train of thought, coming into the room and swiftly shutting the door behind her.   “Why?”   “You’re having lunch with the Duke and Duchess.”   “But I don’t wanna,” you whine, especially when Joan starts collecting the crayons. You stand up before Edith can drag you and you stomp your feet. Why would you want to go have lunch with them when the amount of times you’ve seen them in four years can be counted on both hands.   “Don’t be spoiled. Come here.”   You stick out your tongue instead and the moment Edith’s fingers come to snag you, you swiftly dart and run as giggles squeak out of your body.   “My lady,” Joan sighs, at a loss as well.    The two of them try to corner you, but you dive to the left when there’s a chance.   The original villainess was always quite upright and strict, especially with herself. It’s reasonable considering the way she was raised and the massive burden placed upon her. But kids can get away with a lot more than adults and you’d prefer to take advantage of that while you still can.   “Stop playing around!” Edith finally snags the back of your nightgown and you laugh, still thrashing against her hold until she plops you down on the vanity chair. “You’re such an unruly troublemaker,” she mutters as she grabs the frilly dress you’re about to be changed into.   And just for that comment, you undo the pins she puts into your hair when she’s not looking.   It drives her crazy.   But your little antics are stopped the moment you’re sitting at the dinner table. The height of said table reaches your collarbone and the chair you’re sitting in overwhelms your form. The atmosphere is stiff and tense, your father sitting at the head of the table and slicing into his meat while your mom’s posture is upright and she chews gingerly.    Unlike the maids, you won’t test your luck with the Duke and Duchess. God knows they might send you to some kid ranch for the next ten years to reform yourself.    But you also know you can’t get any cuter than this.   You’ve seen yourself in the mirror — soft skin, big eyes, a button nose and chubby cheeks.   Who knows what puberty might do to you someday, but for now, you’re as cute as a four year old can get. And why not use that as a weapon in your arsenal?   “Momma.” You interrupt the silence and your mother across from you looks up. You give a full smile with teeth, quirking your head to your shoulder and open your arms as wide as they can go. “I like you this much!”   Oh. Hell. Yeah!   You can feel it. You’re totally gonna win them over—   Her head swivels over to the Duke. “Don’t you think it’s time to teach her manners?”   Wow. That’s cold.    Stone cold.   “Edith.” Your father glances over his shoulder and the head maid steps forward. “How’s Anastasia’s development?”   The older woman clears her throat. “She’s a bit wild, your grace.” You glare at her for exposing you like this. “However, she can write the alphabet and read through storybooks on her own. She seems to be a bright child.”   Damn straight. Of course, you’d be able to pick up the language of Ashea quickly. You still have the memories of your past life.   The Duke hums. “Then she can start training to be the crown princess.”   You nearly choke on your broccoli.    But you hastily compose yourself and look up at your father. “What’s that?”   “Don’t ask questions,” your mother quips and the room simmers down to the uncomfortable silence again.   It’s so ridiculous — the very definition of jumping the gun. You aren’t the Crown Prince’s fiancée, but they’re already considering you a candidate before you’ve even lost your baby teeth.   Not to mention, it’s all useless anyway. The original Anastasia never became the princess and you have no plans of even meeting the Prince.    “Do you know what happened in the year 921, my lady?” the tutor asks later on, pushing up his rounded spectacles up the slope of his nose.   You’re slumped over the table, one arm rested with your cheek squished in your hand, focused on twirling the quill with two fingers. God forbid Edith or your mother witnesses your awful posture, but no one’s ever interested enough to sit in on these dumb tutor sessions. They’d fall asleep instantly.   “The war of Winter,” you mumble and the tutor’s eyes light up and he enthusiastically nods.   “Yes! The most momentous moment in the history of Ashea. A great dragon rose from the mountains and in the war of Winter, great King Baek, the light priestess and fierce knights of the royal palace came down the lazy brook from Stoughsby Peaks next to the then Canary district which sold fabrics and spices up until the year 914 when the famine of 914 came—”   The tutor drones on and on.   But one thing grabs your attention. You forgot there was magic in this world.   “Ummm,” you interrupt him in the middle of his tangent. “Did King Baek kill the dragon by magic?”   “Great question. King Baek in the summer of 896, seven years after he was born, started to learn the art of swordsmanship through rigorous training with the fierce knights of the royal place who was then under the rule of King Ennik—”   You don’t know why you asked.   “How do you start doing magic?” you interject again.   “Well, magic is part of everyone and it’s everywhere. But some are more attuned to it than others. It requires vigorous training, the most talented magician was Ruffus Dolores who dedicated his life living in the Magician’s Tower and wrote most of the magical texts we have today.”   You look at him, curiosity finally alight in your eyes. “Can I do magic?”   There was never magic on Earth in the twenty-first century aside from Harry Potter or Twilight, if Edward’s sparkling constitutes as magic. But if it’s anything like those movies, then you’re psyched! You can wingardium leviosa yourself and yeet out of here.   Unfortunately, your excitement is short lived.   “The House of Devereux isn’t very magically inclined,” the tutor says and your eyes dim again. You’re not completely surprised considering Anastasia was never much of a fighter in the game. She just splashed water on the main character’s face a lot and made players like you curse her out. “However, while magic is an inborn talent and comes naturally, skills always have to be honed. There’s still a chance you may have magical abilities. We’ll just have to see as you get older.”   You hum to yourself.   //   Edith pulls the curtains together haphazardly, the moonlight crisp where the gap is and sheds a silver sliver onto the carpet. Joan takes the tray with your finished glass of milk, nearly toppling it over and shattering the glass, but finding balance in the nick of time.   “Goodnight, my lady.”   “Night night.” Your hand peeks out from the covers and you wave.   “Don’t get out of bed or else,” Edith warns in a low tone. “The Duke won’t be happy to hear if you’re found wandering in the halls or sneaking into the kitchen again.”   You giggle. “Bye bye.”   The door shuts, darkness engulfs your bedroom and you count to ten within your head. The moment the seconds are up, you throw the covers off of you and slide off the high mattress.   You come to your desk, grasp the heavy duty textbook off of it and lug it over to the windows.    The enormous book sits on your lap as you lean against your bedpost. The moonlight illuminates the cover and you flip to the magic section at the back, the noise of the pages soothing in the quiet space. Magic — not only is it interesting to you but it could be a great defense mechanism if worse comes to worse. Who knows. It might just add to your battle plans and help you survive.   Your pointer finger underlines the sentences and traces the words as you read the introduction slowly.   After reading, you learn that magic is more intuitive, rather than a particular procedure.    You push the textbook aside and hold your hands out. Shutting your eyes, you try your best to envision light. You try to imagine light engulfing your figure and form, causing your skin to glow.   Peeking with one eye open, there’s—   Absolutely nothing.   Well shit. Maybe the tutor was right. Maybe there is no real magical talent in your bloodline. But there’s no harm in trying to dabble in it a little more.   You conceptualize fire in your brain. And when you look in your hand, you’re ecstatic to see a tiny flame actually flickering in mid-air. Oh shit! It worked!   But it smothers out a blink later.   You try to visualize water next to see if your magical expertise lays within the element. When you open your eyes, your breath hitches at the water droplets floating in your palm. And for once, it doesn’t completely vanish within a second. A grin spreads into your face. But as if Lady Luck wants to slap you, the moment you get hyped, the water splashes into your lap.   It looks like you peed yourself.   “Really?!”   You sigh, ready to give up.   Maybe you don’t have a knack for magic after all.    You turn to grab the textbook, but the heftiness is awkward in your grasps and your thumb slips, accidentally flipping over the next page. The page’s heading makes you stop.    Oh yeah. Dark magic exists.   Might as well give it a shot while you’re at it.   Like all the times before, you shut your eyes and hold your hands upwards. You try to imagine darkness — the similar kind that’s already filled your bedroom, or like the empty void that you were plunged in after being hit by that truck. That abyss of nothing, of pitch black.   Suddenly, you feel a pressure on your shoulders. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time.   Your lashes flutter open and your breath is plugged in your nose. Darkness has overwhelmed the room. It bleeds out of you, consuming your form like smoke, the hue of ink spilt on oil. It covers the silver moonlight, erasing the sliver casted on your carpet and what was translucent through the curtains. Exactly like the empty void, the abyss of nothing.    It’s trying to consume you.   There’s a shriek from outside your room. “All the candles just blew out!”   Panic drains blood from your face and you drop your hands, flailing your arms as if you can dispel the black before it wraps its hands around your throat and submerges you completely.   It fades, the moonlight traveling back onto you again and you shove the book underneath your bed.   You’re still shaking as you climb back into bed.   God knows you’re never going to try that again.   //   So you might not have an aptitude for magic after all. But the grief is short-lived after the realization that it’s not a toy or something that comes out of a magical wand for you to fight Dementors with. But there’s still a lot of ways you can protect yourself. You just have to get creative.   “I wanna do that!”    Your nose, forehead and palms are pushed against the glass window as you peer outside.   Joan frowns and peeks out. “You want to go flower picking, my lady?”   “No!”   The useless maid finally looks to the two guards sparring with one another out by the field. “You want to sword fight?”   “Uh-huh.”   She bursts out laughing and you whirl around in irritation.    “I wanna! Pretty please?” How else are you going to protect yourself? If you can’t use magic, then you need to go the melee route and pick up a sword or at least a bow and arrow.   “You would have to ask permission from the Duke himself, my lady.” Joan turns away to make your bed, expecting you to give up. When it comes to asking your parents, it’s too much of a hassle to get involved with them. But this time, you don’t concede.   She’s surprised when you tug on her dress. “Okay.”   The Duke’s study doors are imposing on their own. Without needing to open them, the twisting ornate patterns on the wooden surface are enough to eerily remind you of exposed arteries. It feels like you’re approaching the principal’s office — a nervousness of the impending doom.   You’ve always been careful to steer clear any place your mother or father might be. The study on the third floor, the gardens, their bedroom. And any time you passed, your steps would quiet.   It’s not like you’re scared of them. Frankly, you’re just annoyed at how nit-picky they are.   But you remind yourself you’ve been through worse — you once spent an entire summer in customer service serving food in the twenty first century for god’s sakes!   With that in mind, you throw open the doors.   Joan, behind you, practically flinches.   Your father’s sitting behind his oak desk, quill and parchment in hand, and he looks above his rounded spectacles. You give your most charming smile. “Hi, papa!”   He looks to the older girl and deadpans, “What’s the matter.”   The maid clears her throat, clearly distressed that she’s been dragged into this. “Uh, well, your grace, my lady, uh, she…..well…”   “I wanna do sword!” You tottle towards him and round the desk to come eye to eye with his knees. C’mon, as uncaring as they are, they gotta at least care a little for their daughter, right? You’re too cute to ignore all the time. You flutter your lashes for good measure. “Pretty please?”   The Duke’s brow quirks. “You want to learn swordsmanship?”   You enthusiastically nod. “Uh-huh!”   He stares at you. You stare at him.   The older man sits back in his chair. “It wouldn’t hurt to learn an interesting skill or two. It might make you stand out.” Those two lifelessly said statements alone are enough to make you happy. Even when he resumes his paperwork. “I heard from your tutor that you’re a fast learner.”   You’re surprised the old fart said something good about you, but of course you are! You’re technically twenty four now. Mathematics is truly universal when you can recall the basics and the language is easy to pick up. You’re already dumbing down everything to not make it weird.   “Maybe you’re not so useless after all,” he mutters from the corner of his mouth, no longer sparing you a glance.    You hold back a scoff. Instead, you force a smile and a sweet giggle. “Thank you, papa! I like you too!”   You wonder if this is why Anastasia tried so hard. The only time she gains recognition in her family is when she’s focusing her time and energy into studying and proving her worth. If so, it’s depressing. You wish you had more sympathy for her when you were playing from the heroine’s perspective. But you’re beginning to understand her better and better.    Why she did what she did.   How she became the female villain.   “Fight me!” You point your wooden sword at the knight whose eyes are wide. You bet he didn’t expect to be sparing with a four year old when he was assigned to protect the Devereux house, but this is a matter of life and death for you. “Hurry!”   “Y-Yes, my lady.”   You smile, gripping the handle tighter. He comes up and weakly slashes you and you’re able to root your feet into the ground and keep yourself from stumbling back. He’s obviously not trying very hard, but it’s good enough for now. Slowly but surely, you’re finding a rhythm into things.    In your spare time, you learn the history of Ashea, read books and plan the next steps in your battle plan of avoiding all main characters of the game at all costs. You’ll protect yourself no matter what it takes.   And you’ll survive no matter what happens.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts series #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts fanfics #man I wanna tag who the main member is bUT I DON'T WANNA SPOIL IT YET #anyway hope this is intriguing #this chapter gets the ball rolling #they'll be 8 chapters in total

[misdre]

misi's beyblade AUs masterpost

i like making AUs, i have many of them, here's a post of them from oldest to newest. (at least approximately) (the ones that got no art of them have photos from unsplash. i just enjoy setting the mood)

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Magical boy AU takao is an ordinary middle schooler who one day gets dragoon the magical spinning top from a cute little azure dragon, seiryuu, and transforms into a magical boy to protect the world from evil for some cosmic reasons that i haven't come up with yet. the rest of the characters have similar powers from their holy beasts and takao needs to gather up his team to fight the evil and. you get the drill is there art of it? yes 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 is there a fic of it? no note: i originally created this just because i like designing the outfits so i haven't planned the story much (this used to be my main focus but then 4kingdoms happened GJSDHGHSDG) i'd want to though, i'll get back to it eventually...at some point...... one of the charm points of this AU is that the holy beasts are these digimon-like animals that hang out with the characters and each have their own personalities.

Fairy tale monster AU takao and gramps live in a cabin in the middle of a forest full of monsters and takao decides one day to venture out to look for a silver-haired boy he once saw, he meets up with the other BBA characters one by one in the grim woods. is there art of it? no is there a fic of it? yes note: my oldest halloween fic. the characters are all these different cute spooky creatures and it's intended to sound like a fairy tale.

One day, he determined that the time was ripe: Takao decided to leave for an adventure. For his grandfather was old, it was not at all unusual for him to lay down to bed before sundown. Once the hut had fallen in drowsy silence, Takao packed his one and only bag with what little he felt he needed, took his cap and jacket, and stepped over the doorsill. He had left the safe warmth of the hut behind.

Royal fantasyverse AU (the tale of four kingdoms) takes place in a fantasy universe with four kingdoms (east, west, south & north) created by the four holy beasts, in an era where each kingdom happens to be ruled by an exceptionally young king due to their respective circumstances. when the four meet for the first time, a snowball of events is set in motion that's going to affect all four kingdoms. is there art of it? yes 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 is there a fic of it? yes 1 / 2 note: like a period drama with magic and gay and tons of worldbuilding. probably has way too many mysteries for the boys to solve because i have no self control when it comes to creating twists. this is The one AU that i have crammed every usable canon character into, i need enough people to inhabit four fucking countries

After creating the four lands, the holy beasts created people to inhabit them. Because the beasts were celestial beings and couldn't but guard people and the world they lived in from far above, they needed human vessels to lead the four nations. Thus they created four kings who would rule over other people using the four beast’s powers. The four kings were neither human nor gods, but something between – they were messengers, or icons, of the four holy beasts.

Omegaverse AU a canon divergence AU (i guess??) where genders are replaced by A/B/O and everyone being either canine or feline. max is a late bloomer canine and finds out he's the only alpha of the BBA boys thanks to a certain feline omega. is there art of it? not really but i do have dog boy max and cat boy rei art (which are a bit too cute for this kinkfest. i mean they're obviously aged up for the real thing.) 1 / 2 is there a fic of it? it's been in the works for like, five years but i always shy away from finishing it note: it's omegaverse, it's exactly what you'd expect. the smut is so filthy i've been too embarrassed to even post it. hiromi is also an alpha by the way

Coffee shop AU highschooler rei goes on a venture to hit on a local Hot University Teacher and coffee shop owner judy in a cafe owned by her, ends up receiving a bunch of flirty cups of latte from barista max working there. is there art of it? no is there a fic of it? yes note: i mean, rei being into blonde MILFs is pretty much canon

Now that Rei looked at the boy more carefully, he realised his hair was just as fair and eyes just as blue as he knew Judy Mizuhara's to be. Maybe they were related? It wasn't that strange if Judy had hired a relative's kid to help out at the shop, right? He certainly looked American, but he had spoken Japanese. And then, all of a sudden, the boy turned to look back to him. Startled, Rei blinked his own golden brown eyes and shifted them back to his now empty cup. God, it was rude to stare at someone, wasn't it? He'd been too deep in thought to even notice doing it. Not that the boy had looked judgmental – he only seemed to wear a smile.

Soulmate AU max keeps having dreams with peculiar scenarios about a boy named rei. one day he borrows a book on soulmates from hiromi and finds a chapter talking about meeting your soulmate in the realm of dreams. is there art of it? no is there a fic of it? yes note: i don't even care for soulmate AUs, this was my own dare to myself to find a single soulmate trope that interested in me enough to write a thing of it.

Max was walking through a crowded airport, carrying a heavy backpack with him. He had never been to this airport in his life, but somehow he knew exactly where he was, and where he was supposed to go. And he was in a hurry, and Rei had at some point emerged from the crowd, as usual, keeping up with him without bumping into any of the people that should have blocked his way. “I'm sorry, this is probably my fault,” Rei said. “I haven't even travelled in ages anymore, but these dreams just keep coming back to haunt me.”

Chess player AU rei is a young chinese chess champion participating in the world junior championships, ends up falling for the american chess prodigy max somehow in the process and is determined to get to play against him again. is there art of it? no is there a fic of it? yes note: so this is one of the weirder ones i've done. it was inspired simply by me having a very vivid mental image of a scene of them playing dramatic chess together. this is probably my most underrated AU even by myself, i think the writing is pretty solid for such a short story of a topic i know practically nothing about

As a child, Rei had initially been taught to play xiàngqí, a Chinese game much more popular back in his home country; but chess with its refined, uniquely shaped pieces was love at first sight for the young Rei. He was a fast thinker and had amazing concentration skills once he set his mind on something, and he also had an outstanding memory, making it easy to memorise game patterns he once saw and then use them for his advantage. This all granted him natural talent in chess. But despite his skill, he had a bad habit of easily losing his temper and becoming indecisive once his focus wavered. Also, he was just a tad bit too sentimental. These traits often became his worst enemy in important matches, much worse than the actual opposing player. Keep your cool. Focus. Play well.

Flower shop + fake dating AU yuriy doesn't really know anything about flowers but is working part-time in a flower shop for the easy cash. he keeps getting a pair of weird customers who ask about flower language for hypothetical situations. is there art of it? not by myself and i don’t have a link to the fanart made of it unfortunately is there a fic of it? yes note: did i write this for valentine's day? i feel like i maybe did. this is my only AU (and fic in general) so far that's about a non-BBA character as the main lmao

“So, I need some advice for a particular situation,” the customer then began, idly tapping the counter with his hand. “I mean, not a real situation, of course – hypothetically speaking, if someone was just pretending to be going out with another person, but they weren't really going but it just needed to seem that way to everyone else, what kinda flowers would get the message through?” Possibly an idiot, Yuriy concluded his analysis. “So you need suitable flowers for a date,” he stated, shooting his eyes at his notes about common flower-usage.

Classical music AU (the heart that i love) max is a piano prodigy attending a classical music college that holds annual music competitions for the students. he's got some haters for being the son of a world-known pianist who's one of the teachers, but he also ends up having a budding romance with rei the mysterious chinese violinist. is there art of it? yes 1 / 2 is there a fic of it? yes note: the origin of this was my "max and mao are besties" college AU. then it got mixed in with my thirst for classical instruments and max being bullied.

Max isn’t exactly a synesthet, but he has always been able to see music as pictures – as entire sceneries, as great adventures. This tendency of his emerges especially strong whenever he’s learning to play a new piece on the piano; as he moves along the melody, the scenery is also being built around him like a jigsaw puzzle, creating a complete picture piece by piece; and once he has mastered the song, he’s able to freely traverse and immerse himself in the world inside that puzzle. Some pieces have a more relaxed or soothing scenery than others, some are exciting and thrilling – even deliciously sinister in the way that a good horror film can be. Setting himself down in front of a piano is always an invitation to a world of his choice.

Bakeneko AU after moving to a small rural town in japan, max hits his head and starts seeing things, such as a weird white cat following him around. after a while, he's convinced that he's being haunted. is there art of it? yes is there a fic of it? yes note: another halloween AU, a more surreal one where max is human and rei is. well. not

Max kept walking, his eyes still on the narrow road. He hadn't noticed while deep in thought, but it really was quiet that evening. The sun had nearly set by now, leaving the sky striped with the dusk of the approaching nightfall. There was no wind to rustle the treetops, no birds chirping, nothing. Only the sound of Max's own footsteps on the pavement, and the matching sound that followed. Followed. What if someone actually was following him? A sudden, violent chill struck down Max's spine, causing his hair to stand on end. He stopped. After a short delay, the steps also stopped.

Genderbend AU a canon divergence AU where everyone's a different gender from canon (duh). starts off as an alternate version of the g-revolution world championships where the girls meet for the first time and befriend each other. rei is a professional model in addition to being a blader in the baihus, and max from the PPB is delighted to be able to battle her. she has no idea that rei has fallen for her at first sight, though. is there art of it? yes 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 is there a fic of it? it's... in the works. note: i created this because i wanted to design attractive girls, what about it. absolutely partial to maxine's huge badonkadonks.

It wasn’t like Rei hadn’t already taken notice of her before, given that they were participating in the same world championship tournament, but the real turning point was the first time they stood on the opposing sides of a bey stadium. It was the day when the match-up roster signalled the match between the Chinese team and the American team, the Baihus versus the PPB All Starz; and despite both teams consisting of five players, it came down to, to Rei’s immense joy, the tag team of Rai and herself against the two most interesting US players, Rikki Anderson and Mizuhara Maxine.

Vampire & merboy AU rei is a starved vampire just about to end his own life when he meets merboy max at a forest lake. is there art of it? of max yes is there a fic of it? yes note: yet another halloween monster AU, this time they are both monsters though. this one’s a pretty grim one i have to admit

Rei succumbed into deep thought, considering his few options, when something grabbed his unsuspecting hand. Something yanked him forward in one mad splash and forced not only the rest of his arm but also his shoulders and head underwater. Half a second later Rei, so badly startled that he’d come close to slipping into insanity, found himself staring at a pair of bright blue eyes only inches away from his own face. His other hand and lower body still firmly on land, Rei pulled himself back with strength that he didn’t even know his weak body still contained. As he did, he also pulled up whatever was clutching his hand, which turned out to be another hand – a white hand with elongated, dirty fingers, so sharp at the tips that they looked like daggers.

Mafia AU max is the boss of the BBA mafia family, rei is a hitman and max's right hand man, the rest have various roles in the organisation. salima, mariam and some other girls (at least) are reporters doing investigative journalism on organised crime who get interested in covering the story of a group of russian elite detectives doing a thorough investigation of the BBA. is there art of it? of rei and max yes 1 / 2 / 3 is there a fic of it? it's in the works but it's just a gratuitous reimax smut note: this is a story i wish existed but this kind of police investigation action thing is so not my genre of expertise. that's why i'm just doing a PWP of my boys and the rest exists on conceptual level

“Did you know,” Salima said, perfectly peppy about it, “that there are secret underground auctions for stolen artwork that’s sold in the black market? Not just online auctions in the dark web but actual, physical events held somewhere in the city! Isn’t that so intriguing? Can you imagine how an event like that would look like, Max?” Max can – in fact, he doesn’t need to imagine. But he’d rather not think about it; the memories bring the familiar taste of bile in his mouth and make his gut curdle with a mixture of disgust and very particular guilt. The mere thought of it makes him set his coffee aside and bring a hand between his tightly shut eyes.

⸻⸻⸻

the next thing i come up with? who knows............

#bey things #i am only moderately insane #so i'm a person who never reads her own writing #but for this post i did. i read my old oneshots #and i wasn't disgusted by them!! actually i was rather impressed with them!!! #i didn't know such a feeling existed. to read your old writing #and be like how nice! writing of my OTP just the way i want it! #genuinely i was charmed by the soulmate AU because i'd forgotten most of it #bc i was so embarrassed about it for some reason? but it was a very nice story

[jessiewritesthings]

Saudade - Pt. I

Prince Zuko x Reader

Hello I am here and I am obsessed with my boy Zuko so I decided to write this and now i’m sad but still obsessed!!! Hope y’all enjoy x

Part II - Part III - Epilogue

____

Breath hitched in your throat, anger coursed through your body as Aang fell, the energy from Azula’s lightning still pulsing through the air. Katara stood across from you, surrounded by waves of water. The Dai Li agents stood in shock; Azula smirking with her brows furrowed, and Zuko – Zuko.

 Mind swimming, you discarded everything Zuko had told you while you were imprisoned with Katara. He always lies, just like his sister, you thought. Quick to action, Katara rode a wave collecting Aang in her arms with tears in her eyes. Azula and Zuko made their way to Katara, preparing to claim their prize and ship him back to the Fire Lord without so much as a second glance at you.

 Narrowing your eyes, you focused on the pair as Azula and Zuko both prepared to attack, using the water around you and channelling it, intent on pummelling them down with fast, heavy plumes of water. Releasing, Zuko turned to you as the rush of the water skidded through the air, knocking him off his feet and distracting Azula.

“Now, Zuzu, don’t go getting complacent,” Azula murmured as she blocked your attack and faced you with a malicious stare. As Azula raised her arms, you prepared yourself to deflect her next attack, but Azula was cut short when a hot flame was thrown in front of her. Using the flame as a distraction, you launched yourself through the water to Katara’s side, as General Iroh spoke.

“You’ve got to get out of here – I’ll hold them off as long as I can,” he urged, fighting his own family and confirming his state as traitor to his nation.

“Go, Katara!” you yelled, intent on standing by Iroh’s side. Katara didn’t argue as she took Aang to safety, albeit with tears in her eyes as she watched you fondly.

Glaring at Azula with only one thing on your mind, the water surrounding you crept to Azula’s feet, creating a gimbal around her before turning the rings of water into a razor, cutting through layers of her clothing and leaving an angry red welt on her cheek. You would have been able to cause more damage if Zuko hadn’t attacked you, sending a brusque flame your way. Your fingers seared in pain, the water dry and sizzling as the flame hit.

Biting your lip, you quickly used water to partially heal the burn, before opening both your palms with arms open, channelling all the water you were able to. With arms raised, you grunted heavily as you brought them down with intense force. Eyes narrowed on the siblings, the wave you created pummelled towards them, parting where you stood. A quick flick of your wrist ensured Iroh was clear of your attack, and the satisfaction you felt as Azula was caught off guard was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

Iroh continued to send more fire at the pair, keeping a close eye on Katara and Aang, before relenting as they made it out of the catacombs. It was clear that Iroh was not going to fight his niece and nephew further, and you started to move to his side before a searing pain engulfed you. Azula glared at you, an eyebrow cocked in satisfaction as you writhed in pain, gritting your teeth as the blue flame coiled itself around your left leg. Your brain roared, the flame sinking through your clothing and embedding itself in your skin. It took every ounce of concentration you had to bend the closest water and extinguish the ugly flare.

Collapsing onto your forearms, the only thing you could think about was how much you wanted to hurt the royal siblings, even though any attack now would be futile – as much as you wanted to take it further, you had to reserve your energy to heal the wound.

Iroh moved towards you, kneeling down to hold you against him as Azula and Zuko approached.

“Well, brother, it looks like we’re done here. Apprehend these traitors and throw them in a cell on our ships!”, Azula commanded. “Father will be pleased that we have recovered his disgraceful brother, and I’m sure he’ll enjoy his little waterbending trophy,” she continued. Your brows furrowed in anger and a rush of nerves ran through your body at the thought of being delivered to Fire Lord Ozai on a silver platter.

“Ready to return home, Prince Zuko?” she asked, folding her arms and facing her brother.

Zuko glanced at you, heart swelling and pulsing before he steadied himself and gave you a steely glare.

“Yes. I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” he snarled. You felt Iroh as he shuddered at Zuko’s words, his disappointment in his nephew almost palpable in the atmosphere. Zuko, purposely avoiding his Uncle’s gaze, turned his back on the two of you and stalked off with his sister. Dai Li agents roughly picked you up and dragged you along, taking no care for the injury you had sustained. One bump too many and you felt yourself slipping as you watched Zuko, his back to you and his head held high.

____

“Zuko!” Katara exclaimed, surprise etched on both of your faces as the banished prince tumbled onto the floor of the catacombs. Ignoring the two waterbenders, he turned his back to sit in silence. You sat across from him, watching his back as his breath rose and fell. It was the first time you’d seen him without Fire Nation red, and the green of the Earth Kingdom complimented him.

Katara, pent up in her anger towards him, began an endless tirade of questions, saying anything and everything that she’d ever thought about Prince Zuko. You watched on carefully, and it wasn’t long before Zuko retorted, causing Katara’s anger to swell even further before she broke down in tears. Moving closer, you draped an arm over her shoulder and held her close, glancing behind her to see Zuko watching you carefully.

“We have that in common,” he murmured quietly. Katara wiped her tears, shuffling away from you to seek some privacy, fingers gently fondling her mother’s necklace. Turning to face Zuko, you were surprised to see he had come closer, legs once again crossed in front of you.

“Your mother was taken from you?” you asked Zuko, hesitantly. He glanced down, flicking his fingers before raising his eyes to meet yours. You nodded, understanding what he was conveying without words. If the Crown Prince could have his own mother taken away, how safe was he? Fire Lord Ozai had forced his wife to flee and banished his own son – what wouldn’t he do to gain power? You shuddered, watching as Zuko sighed glumly, flicking a stone away. His scar moved almost like an afterthought with the rest of his face, and you swore you could almost hear the strain it pulled on his skin – taught, angry and discoloured. His angry amber eyes glanced at you once again, and you gave him a soft smile in return. The green Earth Kingdom robes gave a different aura to the Prince and his eyes seemed softer than when he was adorned in his Fire Nation red. You caught the corner of his lips raise in return and felt your breath swell in your throat.

Despite all his misgivings, there was something about Zuko that made you want to reach out, caress him softly and murmur sweet nothings into his ear. Despite all that he had done, you knew that deep down he was lost, confused, and caught up in something much bigger than him. Spirit knows, having Ozai for a father would be one of the worst upbringings anyone could think of. You wanted to reach out, touch his face and feel him, alive and pulsing beneath your hands. And so, you did.

____

Weeks had passed in the small, metal cells that Azula had thrown you in. Iroh had been placed in a cell next to yours, which offered a small comfort. He was chained to the walls of the ship, wrists and ankles bound, his grey hair growing longer as sweat kept it to his face. You had been shown small mercy a few days after being taken into the cell – Azula had been observing your wound with satisfaction, thoroughly pleased with her work. The flame had wound up your leg like a whip, and a final sharp edge had splayed across your stomach leaving you mottled and marred.

“It’s rather breathtaking, really,” she had commented. “Art.”

The burn still seared – you had managed to bend a small amount of water into your water skin before being removed from the catacombs, but that hadn’t gone very far in your attempts to heal your wound. You were a talented healer, renowned in both the Northern and Southern Water Tribes for your abilities, but without water you were helpless. You had attempted to heal yourself using Bloodbending, something you made sure to hide from watchful eyes, but it had proved ineffective – your lack of training and absence of the full moon meant you would have to beg.

“I will die soon,” you started. “Do you not want to present me to the Fire Lord, a trophy or a pawn, whatever it may be?” you asked Azula. Guards flanked her, and to your right you could see Prince Zuko hovering behind his sister.

“You’re exaggerating, water rat. What makes you think I’d willingly hand over water to a captive waterbender,” Azula sneered, looking down the ridge of her nose with an angry glare. 

“If you want me to make it to the Fire Lord alive, then I’d recommend it,” your breath raggedy in your chest. Your body ached; the right side of your body bruised from holding yourself up in efforts to prevent your burns coming into contact with anything that would worsen the injury.

Zuko moved to stand next to Azula, breathing heavily.

“You must think us stupid,” he spat. His anger started to dissipate however, as you raised your eyes to meet his. Words caught in his throat as he saw you, covered in a thick film of sweat and dirt. The burn was awful. He would choose his scar over yours one hundred times, and then probably one hundred more. Your body was draped in such a way to prevent infection on your wound, but he could see near your ankle where it had started to take a more sinister turn. You were exhausted, eyes sad, defeated. When he had been trapped in the catacombs with you, he could feel the pulsing of life within you – something had been magnetic. Now, he couldn’t even be sure if he was looking at the same person.

“Stupid, no,” you murmured. “Do you really think I’m asking for water under the guise of a surprise attack? Even if I was, look at me. You’d have me hit before I’d even be able to bend anything. I need to heal myself.” Your eyes narrowed on Azula, taking a deep breath as you waited for her response. You knew that if Zuko were alone he would relent – especially if the Fire Lord wanted you for a pet.

Azula folded her arms, still unspeaking. Zuko shifted next to her, raking over you again with an odd sort of soft sympathy in his eyes.

Iroh grunted from the cell next to yours. The siblings had left him relatively unharmed, though treated him with seemingly even more disdain than they did you.

“It would be wise to give y/n the resources she needs in which to heal herself. She is a talented healer; she will not need much in order to prevent the damage until we arrive in the Fire Nation.” Iroh shuffled in his cell next to yours, moving as close as his chains would allow as he spoke up in your defence.

“Seems you still think you know best, Uncle,” Azula commented. “Very well. Zuko, why don’t you go and fetch y/n a small bowl of water. I’m curious to see how our little healer works. Perhaps we can keep her, if she proves useful.” One corner of Azula’s mouth raised in a little smirk, only for you to see. You knew she was taunting you, doing her best to make you aware that no matter how you tried, you were here now. A sharp groan escaped your mouth as the ship sharply lulled to the side, pushing you to your back. Another rough wave and you were forced on to your left leg, hissing as the shock of pain trembled through your body.  

Closing your eyes, you concentrated on your breathing as you pulled yourself on to your right hip, back resting against the wall of the cell. Glancing at your leg, you saw it was coated in dirt, and thick black pieces of ash. As Azula and the guards watched, you ripped a piece of your shirt, revealing the tip of the burn that coiled around your back and ended above your navel. The sudden jolts had caused your body to react in a sweat, but you waited for Zuko to return with the water bowl before bending your own sweat to remove the dirt and ash, instead choosing to delicately wipe at your leg with the fabric from your shirt.

“Charming,” Azula commented, as Zuko returned. “Wait, brother. Take a moment to admire my work.”

You ignored the hot, steely gazes of the spectators and continued dabbing at your wound, your heart beating as a drop of water fell from the bowl in Zuko’s hands. If you wanted to, you could take it from him now – bend it from the bowl and into your palms – but you knew better than that. You’d have to be careful, aware that any sudden movement could cause them to attack you and leave you to rot.

Azula motioned for the guards to open the cell door, and Zuko gingerly stepped inside, watching your slumped form. The desire to fight was there, and it was urging. Sure, it would be risky, but Azula underestimated how talented you were. As Zuko approached your side, bowl in one hand and a soft orange flame bouncing in the other, you could almost feel the pulsing ocean around you, as if it wanted you to take control, as if it wanted you to seize it and unleash a vicious ferocity you weren’t entirely sure you were capable of.

Zuko knelt in front of you, however, and any fantasy of wielding the ocean in your defence vanished as his soft flame doubled in size with a vicious flick. Gulping, you nodded in thanks as he placed the bowl down, heart racing in your chest.

His eyes didn’t meet yours, but you could feel their heat as they travelled from the burn on your ankle, following its length until the fabric covering your waist hid it from sight. You watched as his eyes trailed over your stomach, and his lips curled down in a slight frown. He knew how you were feeling - he’d experienced it first-hand. The scar covering his eye tingled, a strange sensation flowing through him. Zuko had the strongest urge to reach out and touch your wounds, as if one smooth caress would fix the damage caused by his sister. Fingers trembling, he fumbled with the seam of his shirt, before clenching his hands into fists and closing his eyes. 

Slowly, you raised your hand, preparing to bend the water over your burn. Zuko rose, stepping back when he saw the water slowly trickle through the air until it floated above your palm. You weren’t sure why he wasn’t backing away and leaving the cell, though a quick glance at Azula confirmed why: she was carefully watching Zuko, observing all the small movements he made, the shift in his demeanour that had changed since he’d entered the cell. It almost seemed as if she wanted you to attack him, as if that would bring her some sort of pleasure.

“You may begin,” Azula urged, eyes roaming between the water in your palms and her brothers form.

Slowly, the water floating above your palm slipped from your hand and drifted atop your left  thigh. Inhaling, you closed your eyes, focussing all your energy on the soft vibrations in your palms, holding them above your wounds. The water, now spread out to lay with all of your burn caused your leg to light up in a silvery-blue glow. It would have been beautiful, if it hadn’t been so awful to begin with.

The glow shimmered as you moved your palms across your body, fingers clenching as you concentrated on the soft, soothing motion of the water as it soaked through the burn, purging your skin of all the dirt and ash of earlier.

“Incredible,” Iroh murmured, his voice coming from the dark of his cell.

Glancing up, you saw Azula staring at you, hands on her hips and a gleam in her eye. Guards and soldiers were crammed into the hold, everyone eager to catch a glimpse of Fire Lord Ozai’s waterbending prize – and even better, they got a healing performance for free. It wasn’t every day Fire Nation soldiers had left waterbenders alive long enough to see it. 

To your left, Zuko flinched as you placed your palm flat over the burn on your torso. It was particularly bad here, and silently you took a moment to acknowledge that this would forever be etched on to your skin. You watched him now, quickly. The flames held up by benders in the room fluttered across his face, his scowl present but that same, soft look in his eyes.

He feels bad for me, you thought. It almost looked like remorse, too. Or some odd sort of jealousy – he saw the water work with your burn, rolling and soothing its knots and scratches. It was still bad – loud, angry and demanding, but you could tell he was thinking about what his own scar might look like if you had been there to heal him with your silvery-blue glow. 

Bending slightly, you focussed the last of your energy on the burn that scraped along the sole of your foot. A silent, tired sigh rippled through your body and with a twist of your wrist you returned the water to the bowl.

“Thank you, Princess Azula,” you murmured, eyes open and trained on her, but desperately wanting to close. Healing was exhausting, and having a limited water supply didn’t make it any easier. Your audience was making you increasingly uncomfortable, beady eyes observing you in an eerie silence. 

“That was… fascinating,” Azula observed. “You’ll be an asset for our soldiers when the Fire Nation inevitably takes over the world.” While it was clear that you hadn’t been able to completely heal your wound, it couldn’t be denied that your healing powers had eased the angry red that wrapped around you. The pain had eased, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in, feeling lighter than you had in days.

Soldiers started milling out of the hold, returning to their duties, leaving you alone with Azula, Zuko, and Iroh in his cell. Zuko collected the water bowl, handing it to a soldier outside your cell, as Azula turned to leave.

“I have some important correspondence with our father, Zuko. Secure her arms on your way out,” Azula commanded. Azula stalked out of the hold with a guard flanking her, watching you from the corner of his eye. It seemed that although Zuko was returning home, his banishment over, his younger sister still viewed him entirely beneath her.

“Arms out,” he said, holding the restraints in his hands. The cold, heavy metal felt clammy,  and your wrists ached as they rubbed on raw skin. His fingers lingered on yours, moving so softly over your hands that you couldn’t be sure he was even touching you. What did confirm his touch, however, was the heat that radiated from him. An involuntary sigh escaped you, as his closeness enabled you to feel warmer than you had since the Fire Nation soldiers had thrown you in your cell.

Once again, you felt an overwhelming desire to reach out to Zuko – feel his hands on you, memorize his face by touch alone, an appetite for the pressure of his body against yours tormenting you. The light was dim, a lone lantern dangling outside your cell. Zuko’s face was mostly hidden, but the light was enough that you could make out his amber eyes on yours. Raising your chained hands, you reached for his chin, fingertips gently caressing him before he clasped his hands around your wrists, fingers reaching under the metal to properly feel you. A heated breath escaped him, a small flame peaking from his parted lips.

Stop. Stop it. Let go. “Zuko,” you murmured, acutely aware of Iroh’s presence, and the fact that you were in the dark, quietly becoming enamoured with Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation – he who had helped put you in chains.

Bowing his head, he swallowed before releasing you, wiping his hands on his shirt. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Zuko’s entire being was bewitched by yours, and he allowed himself to drop even further into his vulnerability as his mind ran through countless scenarios where he could touch you, feel you (maybe even kiss you) freely, without the fear of losing his honour breathing down his back. He’d only just regained it, and he couldn’t afford to lose it now.

In another life, maybe, we’d get out of here.

#mywriting #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #atla #avatar: tla #avatar imagine #zuko imagine #atla fanfic #prince zuko imagine

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH37

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 37: Star Death Reality Show (XX) {cw: gore}

With a loud noise, the ground shook violently. Lara, who was squatting outside waiting for news, fell in the snow and looked at the ground in horror.

What happened? Was it an earthquake? No, it wasn't. There was a big explosion underground!

Even if this degree of an explosion occurred outside, it would be enough to break through the armor of a tank. If it happened indoors... No one within a range of more than ten meters would survive under the power of the explosion!

Lara's heart sank. She couldn't listen to the warning from Qi Leren anymore. She got up and rushed toward the house!

A light like the dawn, quite different from that of the polar day, pierced the earth. It rose from the abyss like a slowly blooming flower, spreading out its silvery white light like layer after layer of a gauze curtain. This polar world of ice and snow seemed to have returned to its mother's warm and comfortable womb, eliminating any sense of harm.

Lara just stood there and didn't know what had happened. She seemed to have entered an incredible world. The blooming silver light was getting brighter and brighter, not only emitting from the ground, but also rising gradually. There was a reflection of Heaven in this light! It seemed like a rolled-up picture, unfolding slowly, revealing a piece of Eden at dusk in front of her eyes!

Lara’s mouth fell open as she witnessed this cognitive subversion with audiences hundreds of millions of light-years away.

Countless flowers fell from the sky, reflecting the beams of light rising slowly from the ground. This silvery world was expanding its boundaries, and there was no coldness as in the area that it touched. She was like a little girl who was hungry and cold, with tears in her eyes as she saw the phantasmic light of a match.

It turns out… It turns out that in this world, there really is a God.

There was a tremor below the ground again, and a hole suddenly appeared in the outer wall of the house. A shining white figure flew out from the inside, stretching its white wings behind it and lightly landing in front of Lara.

He was glowing, and the "angel" shrouded in silvery-white spots of light nodded at her, like a dream that was too unreal to be true.

"Qi... Qi Leren?" Lara hesitated before speaking his name aloud.

The angel smiled slightly: "It's me."

Lara could imagine how excited the audience on the other side of the cameras would be at this moment, because she was the same.

A miracle. They actually existed, and one had happened here!

　　

　　&&&

　　

A few seconds ago, Qi Leren, who was targeted by a rocket launder was in a desperate situation.

S/L? Ignoring that it was still in cooldown, even if it was used, in this confined space, the high temperature produced by the explosion could easily kill him instantly after the file loaded. Even if he had three chances, it was not enough! He couldn't be like a hero in a movie, hitting his opponent's wrist with one shot and stopping him from shooting this rocket launcher.

In this deadly one thousandth of a second, Qi Leren's naked eyes caught Mark's movements. He had already lifted the rocket launcher and was ready to fire...

He had only one choice, there were no other options.

Qi Leren tore out the gift given to him by the Prophet, and his strength was so great that he broke the thin chain. This winged piece of metal was instantly stimulated by his mind, and then the next second, the rocket launcher was aimed at him, and Qi Leren in the center of the explosion should have been blown to pieces...

But he saw a light, and the illusion of a huge angel came from the void, which lightly descended to him and brought him the power of the Prophet.

Qi Leren felt as if he had returned to the waters where the Prophet laid dormant. The gentle water wrapped around his body, making him feel comfortable and slowing his breathing. Some great power beyond everything he knew was in his blood, which made him reach out and block the rocket launcher approaching the speed of sound with the palm of an ordinary human, but at this moment he felt as if he was catching a floating balloon with his palm.

As if it were a collision between magic and science and technology, the rocket launcher exploded, but the explosion slowed down countless times in his eyes. The silver spots on his body easily blocked the terrible destructive power around him. Even if everything around him was shattered in the explosion, he could safely wait for it to end.

And at this moment, he felt inner peace, neither fear nor worry. It was like overlooking the human world as a god in the sky, who wouldn't panic because of the wind, rain, and thunder.

He also "saw" a huge clock behind him. The gears and rivets clearly visible on the dial made it give off the mechanical sensibilities of the industrial revolution. On the dial, a hand was walking fast.

Once, twice, and three times, the power he borrowed from the Prophet's item would be returned to its original owner.

[Prophet’s Heart: A god-level item handmade by the noble and great Prophet that can make you feel the pleasure of turning into a bird. Holders can summon an archangel to come and fight on their behalf for 3 minutes with a cooling time of 24 hours.]

Three minutes was enough to solve everything in this dark basement.

The parasitic octopus in Annie's body had been killed; even the stones on her body were blown to pieces. Most of the space in the basement had become a collapsed ruin. Qi Leren, who hovered in midair without touching the ground, waved his hand. Some kind of psychic force made him easily lift the heavy stones, and "drive" them aside like a sheepdog driving sheep, revealing a spacious passageway.

The tunnel leading to the institute had collapsed again, but this time, Qi Leren didn't have to work so hard to move the stones like Mark had. He just waved his hand, and these stones were swept aside, as if they were not much heavier than dust. Only the clacking sound told him that these stones were not without weight.

The stones were cleaned up, and Mark, who was also affected by the explosion, remained in human form.

Half of his face was smashed by the flying stones during the explosion, and a soft sticky tentacle was sticking through the bone out of his eye socket that had lost its eyeball. After discovering that there was no barrier between him and Qi Leren, the octopus let out a shrill scream, instantly bounced out of Mark's body, and fled into the tunnel of the Institute in a hurry—this was probably the last time it used the human brain to think out a countermeasure.

Because the next second, Qi Leren raised his arm.

With a distance of more than twenty metres, the power of his mind pressed the pause button on this crazy fleeing monster. It became motionless and collapsed to the ground. Time had cruelly bound it in a cage.

Qi Leren’s outstretched hand gently clenched.

Unable to move, the monster was pinched into a mass of bloody pieces of jelly, which scattered on the ground one by one.

In just a few seconds, it was all over.

The light surrounding his whole body was still bright. In this silver light, Qi Leren felt as if he could do anything.

Was this the power of field-level masters? Even if the item only borrowed a little strength from one, it had far exceeded Qi Leren’s imagination. Facing this absolute power that was beyond the limit of human beings, Qi Leren could hardly believe that the Prophet was still a human being.

Fields were much more profound and terrible than he had thought. Through the process of getting stronger and closer to the field level, it almost seemed like a person evolved to another higher species—such as a god.

He was afraid that the world of these field masters was quite different from that of ordinary people. Unfortunately, for now, he has no qualification to know.

The two amphioctopuses in the basement were dealt with, and Qi Leren was in a good mood. Although the wings behind them seemed like they would get in the way, they were not corporeal. The archangel possessing him did not have any material existence, as if it was just a courier who had brought him the Prophet’s power. He would wait three minutes for Qi Leren to sign for it and then leave calmly.

The mechanical clock in the void had already finished more than one rotation, and Qi Leren could not delay any longer. Although he intended to enter the underground research institute again to find traces of He Yi, as well as Dr. Lu and Du Yue who may have also gone in, he still had to say hello to Lara first.

Qi Leren waved his hand and tore a hole to create a passage above him. The wings behind him fluttered gently, making him rise. This novel experience impressed him deeply. It was good to be a bird man.

Flying out of the basement, at a glance, Qi Leren saw Lara in a trance.

She stared at Qi Leren in a distracted manner and shouted in a whispering voice: "Qi Leren?"

It seemed that this poor girl's atheistic views had been blown to pieces. The initiator should continue to maintain the inscrutable style of a painting, so as to avoid the audience at the other end of the distant camera attacking his identity crazily.

Hopefully his present magic act would fool the audience. Amitabha— Oh, no: God bless.

-----

Editor’s Note: Qi Leren using the Prophet’s Heart is the cover art for vol 1 of the physical edition! The full art without the cover text can be found on the artist’s Lofter [here]

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[kayr0ss]

Learning

[Avatrice, pre-relationship, snippets and some fluff,,,...] AO3

Ava has learned how to walk, run, fight, and survive.

But there's one more thing she's learned how to do, without knowing that Beatrice was the one that taught her.

--

Walking was a quick enough thing to learn. 

It was out of necessity—trying not to get blown up and all—and she was thankful to get herself out of the crossfire between… whoever the fuck was fighting back there. She wobbled a little, finding stability in the crumbling walls of what looked to be one of Spain’s more dated churches. Despite the danger, it was fascinating to feel the jagged surface of the stone, smoothened over by time and passage but still sharp against her skin. The concept of ‘sensation’ was new, but there were more screams and another explosion and if this wasn’t a dream (which she doubted), she had better get out and away— fast.

--

  Running was less of a learning experience and more of an absolute joy. Ava ran, and ran, and ran , and she couldn’t believe that she was running and that in itself only pushed her to run even faster. There was sand under her feet, and the feeling of air whipping along her hair, face, and features by virtue of the movement she was now lucky enough to initiate herself.

The freedom to move was intoxicating. 

She didn’t even tire out. Was it the odd superpowers or the sheer force of her adrenaline? She decided she didn’t care—she wasn’t going to stop moving. In the next moment she was flat on her back, peering up at the stars with her own two eyes. The clouds were kind enough to part for her that evening; maybe they knew? Awesome. She giggled to herself, grinning while taking in the sound of waves rushing into the beach and the feeling of sand on her fingers, always in motion. She didn’t even remember how it felt anymore—sand, or even just feeling —and this meeting felt like the first time all over again. She wanted to close her eyes to savor the sensations, but the stars were too beautiful to ignore.

Every second could slip away at any moment.

  --

  Fighting was both exhilarating and terrifying and decidedly something she was not good at. 

But once again, necessity proved itself a great teacher because no she didn’t feel like getting decked by Lilith another fucking time, thank you very much!

“Again,” Mother Superion commanded with the crack of her cane.

Lilith bore down on her with more satisfaction than Ava was comfortable with, but when the first two hits phased through without harm to her person, she couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that broke through.

“You look confident.” The taller woman had a razor-sharp tongue.

Ava grinned. “I guess you could say I’m simply un phased. ”

There was a thud, a very loud “Shit!”, and a full two seconds before her brain registered that ouch that hit landed!

  --

  She could walk, run, sprint, and even climb by now but by God and all the saints there was just no beating Beatrice was there?

Ava landed on the mat with a heavy thud and a sigh of defeat. 

At least Beatrice seemed more interested in her actually learning some of these moves instead of beating her up for the heck of it. Her opponent graced her with a soft smile and a welcoming hand to help her back up.

“Give me a minute.” Ava chuckled, gaze steady and careful. “Great view from down here!” 

Beatrice leveled her with a flat glare, sighing exasperatedly as she took back her hand. 

“If you’re not going to take this seriously then get up yourself.”

“Hey!” Ava complained, scrambling back upwards despite the ache in her hip. The thought of whether she had meant that quip or not passed by too quickly for her register or remember; especially since Beatrice had gotten back into form and was sending another flurry of fists her way.

  --

  Falling off a cliff was not something Ava wanted to learn what the fuck Mary!

  --

  The fear was chased away the moment the light hit her eyes. She could breathe again, finally outside the claustrophobic weight of a twenty-foot block of concrete, and her mind was a jumble of air , and relief , and Beatrice and freedom . There were hands at her face, coming up to soothe away every worry she had burdened herself with. Brown, searching eyes looked at her with a voice that sang ‘ it’s going to be okay .’

And it was. 

Because Beatrice said so.

Between then and now—she knew she learned another new thing. It was neither powering up the halo nor facing one’s fears. It was something else. Something she couldn’t name.

It was there when in the room as they read the story together, and in every bruise and cut that Beatrice had dutifully tended to. It was there in every tap on the shoulder and gentle reminder, and nod of reassurance and utmost belief sent her way.

The word this new thing  eluded her, try as she might, and— ugh.

She’d think about it later.

  --

  They were huddled up in a safehouse, recovering from the aftermath of the Vatican which, to quote herself much earlier in the day, was a total shitshow what in the actual fuck. 

But now wasn’t the time for obscenities, not when the one most likely to nag her for her language was laying across her lap, resting. She didn’t go down without a fight either—Ava had to pull out the big guns. The puppy dog eyes and the little pleading voices! She had no idea how it worked, but it did, and Beatrice had awkwardly settled herself onto the makeshift pillow which was herself and eased that tireless big brain into some well-deserved rest.

Trust your team , Beatrice asked. She did. Ava let her gaze wander around the sparse living room—the safehouse was an old farmhouse along the outskirts of Italy. Everyone was resting now, even Lilith, and she was thankful that this time, the team was trusting her.  

She kept watch, tiredness kept at bay by the buzzing halo nestled in her back, and didn’t even notice the hours slip by until she felt Beatrice stir from underneath her.

“You good?” 

“As good as one gets after what we’ve been through,” she replied in a voice laden with drowsiness, moving to push herself upwards but not before Ava could press down on her shoulder—softly—insisting she lay down a little more.

“Your legs are probably sore by now.”

“Super pillow powers is just another one of the halo’s perks, I’ll have you know.” Ava grinned.

And by the heavens, Beatrice smiled back. 

Beatrice had a bruise on her cheek, a cut on her lip, and likely an innumerable number of aches and pains which she wishes she could soothe away, even just a little bit. She wanted to touch them—to run her fingers along them and pray that whatever kept her alive and awake could extend itself into healing someone she cared for. She didn’t even notice that her hand was moving until Beatrice tensed up and nearly flinched, before immediately relaxing into the feeling of Ava running her fingertips along her forearm.

It was a soft motion, just enough to graze along the hairs with barely any contact across from the skin. She would run along the few scars revealed by the rare occasion of Beatrice in rolled-up sleeves, and when she closed her eyes in contentment Ava was unable to resist the urge to run her hand along her hair, scratching softly, enjoying the way the other woman leaned into the action.

“Is it okay?”

“Yes.”

Asking before doing is yet another thing she had picked up somewhere along the way.

“You’ve grown more dexterous.” Beatrice remarked, likely trying to pass it off as an even statement but failing to hide the tenderness along the end. “More careful. You were always flailing about, hitting furniture here and there in a simple trip to the kitchen.”

“Ugh. We need a major interior décor overhaul, I’ll tell you that.”

Beatrice chuckled. “Let’s not get started on you learning utensils.”

“Hey!” Ava chided playfully. “Low blow.”

“We did have to help you with nearly everything.” She smiled. “I suppose one could say you were… spoon-fed. ”

“Wow.” Ava laughed, warmed at the display of familiarity and nearness. “Look at you!”

“But I meant what I said,” Beatrice hummed. Ava had moved up from her forearms to tracing the back of her hand, the indentations where veins lay and creases of her knuckles. She turned the hand over, running the pads of her fingertips along a calloused palm to the tips of her fingers. It made her shiver, this action of familiarization, and she felt the slow rise-and-fall of Beatrice’s breathing quicken into something nearly erratic. “This is… new to you.”

And suddenly Ava understood where she had learned.

Where she first felt softness caressing her face, and the careful steadying of a hand on her shoulder. She had picked up the habit of delicate care and meaningful looks and knowing when to speak and when to quiet, the art of soothing someone tired and overexerted into rest.

Her muscles recognized the actions which spoke, ‘you are safe’ and ‘I’ve got you’ through memories of being held the same way.

She ran her thumb reverently across the other woman’s cheek, now falling back into a slumber.

From Beatrice, she learned…

Gentleness.

 --

A/N: Hello everyone! My first time trying for Avatrice, dipping my toes into the water. Hope it goes well - this show and the ship really pulled me in by the ankles I've gotta say.

Thank you to PyroTato for beta reading!

#Avatrice #Warrior Nun #Ava Silva #Sister Beatrice #Fluff #lmao #fanfic #i did it

[outbythehighwind]

Tifa’s Fighting Style

One of the things that impressed me most about FF7R is Tifa Lockhart’s combat. Her mechanics were dazzling. Her combos left me awed. Her style was so realistic, but... what was it? Naturally, I did some digging, and happened to stumble across a blog where most of the work had already been done. So this post is courtesy of Flowerslightning, with thoughts and elaboration on my part. THANKS AND CREDIT TO THIS WONDERFULLY INSIGHTFUL BLOGGER (do check out her tumblr for more fantastic content).

First, let’s note that Tifa’s combat design is very much in the field of fighting games. To some degree at least, developers take inspiration from real-life arts. The style of Tekken’s Lei Wulong, for instance, is based on the Drunken First. Street Fighter’s Chun Li uses the model of Chinese Kenpo.

The FFVII devs - to my knowledge - have revealed nothing on Tifa’s inspired martial arts background. She adopted the monk style (the fisticuffs of FF-verse) from a traveler named Zangan. That’s all we know. She trained (obviously very hard) as his pupil for the 2 years between Cloud leaving Nibelheim and Sephiroth burning the town. Zangan then brought her to Midgar and continued his travels. The only path for discerning real-arts inspiration is through observing Tifa’s fights - though even such attempt is limited. Her style is not as straightforward as Lei’s or Chun Li’s. She seems to employ a mix of martial arts, specializing in the offense and using speed and dexterity to her advantage.

Here are the main styles that Flowerslightning deduced, supported by some of Tifa’s abilities.

1. Muay Thai [demonstrated by Somersault].

This is the known as the “Art of Eight Limbs” and is commonly referred to as “Thai boxing”. It differs from traditional kickboxing (which has its roots in Japan) most notably in being an 8-point instead of 4-point striking system. In other words, Muay Thai employs elbow and shin strikes in addition to kicks and punches. Tifa’s kicks, I would say, are actually more akin to kickboxing, for Muay Thai places emphasis on heavy kicks involving the shin bone. Yet her acrobatic style is very akin to the latter.

In addition to the key boxing techniques of both the Thai and Japanese art, Tifa’s elbow maneuvers provide further evidence for the former. This is most evident during her fight with Loz, where she uses her elbows for offense and defense. One could say she expanded her Thai-based skills during in the 2 years that followed saving the world.

Running a new bar and raising two under-10-year-olds would have left at least a... smidgen of free time, right?

2. Muay Thai [demonstrated by Refocus].

Some may suggest this move of Tifa’s is a Taekwondo technique (we’ll get to that lovable sport soon, don’t you worry), but I agree with Flowerslightning in that her jumping style is more Muay Thai. Almost all Muay Thai techniques use movement of the entire body, rotating the hip with each kick, punch, elbow and block. This to me is the obvious discerning factor. Tifa exquisitely throws her whole body into the majority of her combos and limit breaks, ground and aerial alike. Specifically through that neat hip rotation. Refocus is but one example of many.

PS. Don’t you just love her boots? The gloves are really something but, those red boots... Just look at them.

3. Taekwondo [shown in Overpower].

Literally the “Way of the Hand and Foot”, this is a Korean martial art set apart by its emphasis on kicks. Head-height kicks, jump spin kicks, swift kicks, the list goes on. (But of course, there’s plenty of hand blocking and take-downs too.) Did you know that Taekwondo is part of South Korea’s military training program as well as their national sport? Its skillset is heavy in self-defense.

Tifa is mostly an offensive attacker (and wow, do her strikes deal devastating damage). Yet her aerial maneuvers and acrobatic footwork certainly have elements of Taekwondo. What makes the Taekwondo kick-style unique is its elaborate, advanced forms. Xtreme 720s, for instance, are underpinned by precise technical soundness and accuracy.

Yes, these are literal 720° mid-air turns with a SERIES of kicks timed in utmost precision. They require extraordinary strength. Something Tifa deceptively pulls off with ease, no?

4. Hēi-Hǔ-Quán [displayed in Starshower].

Flowerslightning deduces this ATB ability to be a Boxing combo. Though to me it looks more like Hēi-Hǔ-Quán (lit. ‘Black Tiger Fist’, a Shaolin striking art from China). Watch her hands closely: the thumbs are curled like the fingers rather than wrapped around them to form a fist. Tifa’s wide stances and acrostic kicks are a little less tiger-esque than Hēi-Hǔ-Quán, but there is definitely resemblance of the style there too.

All in all, she seems to employ a mixture of Shaolin arts and Boxing. Her finger-positions for fast jabs (as in Starshower and the Loz fight) are predominantly of the Tiger Fist. Her more powerful strikes, meanwhile, include Boxing crosses, hooks and uppercuts. The sewer cutscene demonstrates this clearly, when Tifa & Cloud encounter the Sahagin.

And damn, do we love the back-to-back Cloti in that scene. Surely I’m not just speaking for myself here.

5. Boxing [displayed in Unbridled Strength].

Tifa’s aforementioned fist moves and powerful finishing punches are no doubt reminiscent of boxing. Also, she always enters a fight with her fists closed in a boxing stance (whether she will employ Shaolin or other hand techniques is irrelevant). Take her cutscene against the Whispers where she, Cloud and Aerith arrive at Sector 7. She begins with a cross and follows with a rotated hook - one of the most basic boxing combos.

BONUS FACT: Rather than orthodox, Tifa always employs a southpaw stance (right hand and right foot forward). This is the preferred stance of a left-hand fighter. Is Tifa left-handed? Considering her fighting alone, yes is the plausible assumption. Here are a few examples:

     - Unbridled Strength has her delivering a finishing blow with her left hand. We would expect such a move to be done with the power hand.

     - Her single strike that hurls Loz across the church is also with the left hand. This punch is not part of a combo; she could have used either hand.

     - In guard position, her left is the rear hand, to both attack and protect herself.

     - And of course, in southpaw stance, she always begins with a left-hand strike.

However, all of Tifa’s general actions (to my observance) - like bartending, catching Aerith in the sewer, carrying the Buster Sword into Corneo’s quarters, etc. - suggest that she is right-handed. So why use the left, the weaker, as her dominant hand in fighting? Could she actually be ambidextrous? That is a possibility. But weighing up the evidence in addition to Tifa's ingenuity, this could well be out of fighting strategy.

Southpaw can give Tifa a strategic advantage, you see, because of the tactical and cognitive difficulties her enemies would have of coping with a fighter who moves in a mirror-reverse of the norm. In other words, she takes advantage of the fact that most fighters lack experience against lefties. Doing this:

     - opens up chance for a variety of surprise combos;

     - puts her human enemies in danger of KOs by what would otherwise be ordinary strikes; and

     - enables her to trick her opponents should she unexpectedly convert to orthodox during fights.

Pretty damn awesome, huh?

6. Gymnastics [dodging maneuvers].

Gymnastics, like fighting arts, enhances balance, strength, flexibility and agility - the four areas Tifa excels at. Now, we’ve talked a lot about her strong points. But what of her weaknesses? Players will have noticed immediately that Tifa has a major setback. She can accurately be described as a glass cannon, due to her low HP and defenses that counter-balance her speed and dexterity. That is precisely what makes playing as her so compelling; you get that sense of life or death intensity. The fight feels REAL. She is the least OP character in the party, in addition to by far being the most difficult to master. Utilized properly, she can be the strongest of them all. And wow, is that rewarding or what?

Because of her weak defenses, Tifa must constantly remain on the move, and gymnastics is the quintessential means in doing so. Hand springs, aerial cartwheels - you name it, she’s got it. As if those kicks and uppercuts don’t scream epic enough already. Doesn’t it just make her even MORE amazing?

So I’ve added Hēi-Hǔ-Quán to Flowerslightning’s conclusion: that Tifa’s combat is Mixed Martial Arts, with her dominant skills as Kickboxing, Taekwondo and Muay Thai. And of course, the interweaving of Gymnastics, which adds an elegance to her epic kickassery.

Tifa lost her teacher after just two years, and spent the last five managing & running a bar, serving as AVALANCHE’s funder & treasurer, and effectively solo-raising Barret’s little daughter. Add two more years, and we have a completely absent Barret, a very sick child in addition to the one she is (now permanently) raising, and a depressed, distant Cloud who has left her to struggle as a solo barkeep, full-time nurse and single mother. How on earth did she find the time and will to master her fighting techniques?

Yes, we are talking about fiction, but this woman is nothing short of incredible. Not simply as a fighter - that isn’t even the start of it. Tifa is, to me, the character who has had it the hardest. Yet she perseveres. And not only that, but she gives. She gives and gives, and doesn’t give up, even when everyone else around her has. In addition, she is the only ‘ordinary’ member of the party: Cloud, on top of military training, had his senses enhanced with Mako & Jenova cells; Barret literally has a gun for an arm; and Aerith as the last Cetra possesses exceedingly strong magic. Tifa, like with everything she does, worked hard to hone her skills. And that, to me, is incontestably admirable.

As Flowerslightning put it, she was “ready to go through hell and yet still remain soft”. And those virtues she held to, where most people would have quit. Compassion and perseverance to the end, the two traits that uphold her - to me - as the most inspiring hero of fiction.

#my analyses #tifa lockhart #combat #ff7 remake #ff7 advent children

[zebrabaker]

Paris Stands Alone; Part 13

Part 12

This chapter’s art is...

As always, HUGE credits to @gajer-1226​ , for her amazing art!

Marinette groaned from her spot on the couch. Mullo had come down from relaxing in the sunroom a while ago, and the trio was sprawled out on the couch, cuddling under a blanket and watching a news report on the current Mayoral elections. Monsieur D’Argencourt was running again, despite having lost so many times in a row. His opponents were a strict woman who had been on the city council for years and was very conservative, and a man who was far more liberal but had little experience. She’d need to keep an eye on things politically, things like this always led to stronger Akumas, be they the politicians themselves or angry citizens.

Right as she had begun to debate with herself whether or not she should go back to bed the whole house shook, and she heard screaming in the streets.

“Son of a bitch…let’s go.” She rolled off the couch with a heavy sigh. “What are we betting on this time?” She asked, stretching and rolling her neck gently.

“Oh! Animal!” Mullo squeaked, perking up. She and the Kwamis had invented a game of betting on what the Amoks would be, winner getting to pick what game they would play on the household game night. If there was a tie, they would do a coin toss.

“I imagine after this morning they’ll go for inanimate.” Tikki yawned. “Ready whenever you are, Marinette!”

“Spots on!” She cried, smirking when she saw a portal appear a few feet away from her, put of sight of the windows. Leaping through, she let loose a battle cry as the world sharply shifted.

X0X0X

The Amok was a rampaging, canine beast, with massive fangs and glowing red eyes, and a hissing, spitting cobra for a tail. It looked like a terrifying mix of a pit-bull and a Doberman pinscher. Nightmare had taken to the rooftops, opening a portal that Ladybug leaped through with a mighty cry. She flung her yoyo at a flagpole and yanked it tight, swinging towards the beast feet-first. She slammed it across the snout, making it whine and stumble. A figure dropped from another portal in the sky, this one swirling blue and white, the figure indistinguishable.

“No way!” Teacup squealed, bouncing in place.

“What is that?” Batman asked, drawing a batarang.

“That is someone we don’t see very often.” Cat Sidhe muttered.

“Who?” Wonder Woman asked, fidgeting with her lasso.

“Bunnyx, the wielder of the Rabbit Miraculous. Her Miracle is called Burrow, it allows her to transverse the timestream with ease. She only visits on important occasions, or if she needs to warn us away from something. She’s the one who sent Jade Turtle out on patrol the night he died saving that girl from the disgraced one. Let’s go say ‘hi’, everyone.” Yellow Jacket was smirking as she took off running for the edge of the building. Right as she reached the edge, she grabbed a dagger from her boot and flung it at the beast at the same time as she flung her trompo at the same flagpole Ladybug had swung from. The dagger nailed the beast (presumably an Amok) in the eye, and it howled in agony and rage. It thrashed and stomped it’s feet, which were the size of minivans. It managed to take the corner off a building, making the civilians evacuating along the sidewalks scream.

Snapping Turtle dove into action, drawing their shield in a fluid motion and shouting something lost beneath the sound of the monster’s howls. A green semi-opaque dome made of hexagons appeared, surrounding a small family and the hero in question from the rubble raining from above. The shield didn’t even flicker or waver, merely protecting the small family as Snapping Turtle scooped one of the three small children up and prepping the family to move.

Vixen, standing on the rooftop, drew her reedpipes from her belt, and slowly began to play a haunting tune. Cat Sidhe, picking up on some hidden signal, made a series of gestures with the hand that bore his ring, before uttering a word that made the Americans shudder. It was dark and dank, this feeling, like the paranoia of being out late at night with shadows looming and every sound inducing panic.

From the ring began to emerge a shadowy figure. It morphed itself slowly into a humanoid figure, dressed in all white, with features that seemed to whisper ‘not right, not human, predator!’ in the ears of all who saw it. It was the unnatural smoothness of it’s skin and features, the inverted colors, with white pupils and black irises, hair that started pure white and faded to dull purple. It seemed to be a doll, unmoving, until Cat Sidhe spoke.

“Distract the Amok for me.” He ordered, and the inhuman thing melted into a pool of shadows, before the puddle seemed to dart away towards the Amok.

“What was that?” Nightwing asked uneasily.

“That was his Grace’s secondary ability, Nyx. It creates an inverted clone of pure destruction energy. You don’t want to be around when it self-destructs, that’s for damn sure.” Roi Singe sighed. “I’ll stay back this time; I don’t want to throw you guys off.”

“Alright. I’m off. Vixen, you good?” The fox, who was still playing her pipes, which were emitting a light orange mist, nodded slowly. The mist was descending to the streets below, and Cat Sidhe went running towards the edge of the building, going into a diver’s position as he plummeted towards the street below. Barely twenty feet above the pavement, the cat hero drew his baton and extended it, slamming the end into the ground so hard that it dented the asphalt as he vaulted towards the Amok, which was now biting and snapping as Ladybug and Yellow Jacket darted around it’s head. There was another heroine, this one in blue and white with roller skates on her feet, moving too fast for anyone to properly see her.

The orange mist, which now filled the entire block, suddenly blew towards the Amok, whirling around it as if being held by a tornado. A glance at Vixen proved that her fingers were dancing over her pipes faster than ever, and Batman felt on edge. He’d never been a fan of magic.

The mist rapidly coalesced into a large, feline shape, similar to the Amok in it’s unnatural size. The feline let out a powerful yowl, and swiped with massive claws at the Amok. The Amok (Who Yellow Jacket insisted on calling ‘Fluffy) growled and pounced at the beast, only to be entangled in the wires of Ladybug and Yellow Jacket’s weapons as the illusion dissolved into mist once more.  As the wires pulled taught around the Amok, Cat Sidhe’s Nyx reappeared before the beast, darting every which way and holding it’s attention. The beast, desperate in it’s rage to attack the tiny unnatural thing in front of it, thrashed and wriggled, trying to get itself lose, and only succeeded in tightening the wires. Slowly, Cat Sidhe snuck up behind the Amok, right hand raised in front of him as if he was trying to smack a fly. Right as the Amok snapped it’s jaws closed around the clone, Cat Sidhe slammed his hand into a thin red collar around Fido���s neck. The dog let out a startled, pained yelp, and was encased in a squirming mass of dark blue bubbles, which hissed and popped as the Amok shrank. Ladybug stood, waiting, and yanked on her yoyo string, which came zipping back into her palm. It wasn’t until the mass was barely any bigger than an American football that a peacock feather appeared that she acted, gently swinging her yoyo to catch it. When she had the feather secured, she flung her yoyo high into the air, crying out a string of words that felt like pure safety.

It was after the loveliness had faded that the final bubbles faded away, revealing a small, emaciated puppy, who’s bones showed through it’s skin, and it seemed to shiver as it looked up at all the heroes surrounding it. It snarled and snapped, cowering from the heroes around it.

“Wait, that was the eight-story tall monster that just did at least half a million in property damage?” Nightwing asked, walking up behind the Court members.

“This is why Hawkmoth and Mayura are so dangerous, they turn even the most innocuous, innocent little thing into something that can kill hundreds.” Vixen explained, landing behind them lightly, as if she hadn’t just jumped ten stories.

“What will happen to the poor thing?” Wonder Woman asked, watching as the puppy shied away from Ladybug’s hand as if expecting to be hit.

“Well, Fidel already has several dogs. They naturally love her, and Yellow Jacket has been talking about setting up a sanctuary for stray dogs. This one, however, seems to have developed a liking towards her Ladyship.” Roi Singe chuckled, watching as the small dog pressed it’s head into Ladybug’s palm.

“And lord only knows that my Melody could never turn away an animal in need.” Cat Sidhe said, approaching them casually. “Thanks for staying out of the way back there, it could have been bad if someone got hurt.”

“You’re in charge here.” Batman said gruffly.

“Still, we might have an issue. I have some stuff that needs me back home, so I was thinking one of my brothers could come over and help you guys out.”

“We’ll talk about it more tomorrow, for now we all need to split before the press starts getting pushy and Vixen, Bunnyx, and I transform back.” Ladybug said, holding the small dog in her arms. The canine was cuddled up close to her, soaking in her body heat. “Ready, love?” She asked Cat Sidhe, who nodded and sent a glare at a woman with pinkish hair who was coming their way, a camera crew behind her. “Bug out!” Ladybug said, winking to the cameras and flinging her yoyo (which should not be able to go that far) at a flagpole on a nearby building. Cat Sidhe began to extend his baton, before letting it fall, vaulting off down the street.

X0X0X

Nadya watched as Ladybug and Cat Sidhe left the scene, and the various Court members disappeared to the rooftops. This was perfect! And yet, right as she approached, Batman drew a grappling hook from his belt, fired at a gargoyle on a nearby building, and went flying off, and Wonder Woman barely waved to the camera before flying away. At least the remaining hero, a young man dressed in black and blue, took a moment to smile and give a dramatic bow before somehow climbing a brick wall. These heroes were ruining her poor ratings! Well, she still had that Ladyblogger girl’s number…

@krispydefendorpolice​ @ficsforthestars​ @multifandomscribette​ @legendaryneckjudgestudent​ @ash-amg-blog @bee-wrecker​ @dawnwave16​ @the-supreme-ace-queen @politelyvicious​ @stonestridernerd​ @justmdj​ @stingrowl​ @damianette-is-life​ @miraculous786​ @mjisntme​ @hauntedfreakdeputyhero​ @miraculousdisapointment @lesscooltodoroki @bb-basbusa​ @isabellemasen​ @sassydepression​ @imspectralboiii​ @spicybelladonna​ @moonystars14​ @frostymoon11 @worlds-tiniest-spookiest-pastry @spartanxhunterx​ @fandoms-run-my-life​ @chocolateherringtacofan​ @imburningneon @fandomsaremylifeline​ @risingmoonyue​ @zotinha456​

#my writing #psa #lukanette #black cat luka #Court of Miracles #miraculous DC crossover #maribat #ml salt

[pit-and-the-pen]

Don’t Underestimate Me

Here it is! This story is becoming a spider web of ideas for me so i can promise most of the chapters are just going to get longer from here! 

so a little clarification since I have the ideas in my head and I want to make sure it’s completely clear. The OC and main character is named Skylar. When she is in the castle being “herself” she goes by Abigail. They are the same person and from Freds POV he caller her Abigail in the castle. So just wanted to clear that up because it will happen a lot as the story progresses and didn’t want anyone to be confused! 

Warnings: None 

Taglist: @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @magical-spit @birdie-writes @ickle-ronniekins @heart-of-tempered-steel @wand3ringr0s3 @thoseofgreatambition @things-that-start-with-f @elf-punk @bitchywhisperswizard @a-little-too-much @izzytheninja @kpopgirlbtssvt @shadowsinger11 @harrysweasleys @obsessedwithrandomthings (let me know if you want to be added! or taken off)

Word count: 2.8K

Chapter 1: The Fine art of Bullshit. 

She let out a grunt as she got slammed into the ground for the second time in a row, knocking the wind out of her. A feeling she’s never fully gotten used to since it happens so little. 

“Come on, really? You’re not focusing!” Her brother yells at her from where he stands. 

“You could have blocked that in your sleep.” He continues goading her. Sighing, she stands up and brushes the dirt off of her palms. Cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders, she takes a deep breath and tries to focus. 

Every time she tries all she can think of is the unopened letter sitting in their kitchen. The one made from heavy parchment with the red wax seal of the royal family. 

“What if they know?” She asks again for what seemed like the thousandth time since they started practicing. 

“Then you better go down with a fight.” He responds with a laugh. 

“Mace! This isn’t funny. Do you know what they would…” 

“How could they have found out? You haven’t done anything wrong. Now stop making excuses and bow.” She huffs at how casually he can brush this off but bows anyways. The sounds of them counting seem to be far away and her body picks up the familiar hum of energy, like a snake getting ready to attack. 

This time she manages to block everything he throws at her. Colorful and powerful swirls of magic aimed just so perfectly. “Fight back!” Mace yells. “Stop blocking and fight!” His words distract her for a split second and she’s fumbling over her feet and when she goes to block the next spell, her balance is off. She stumbles and falls over her own body, something she hasn’t done in years. 

“Stop. Enough of this. Just let me read the letter.” She calls, rolling out of the embarrassing position of falling straight on her face. 

“Oh how the mighty fall.” Mace laughs. His laugh is cut off when he gets blasted off of his feet and lands on his back. 

“Cheater!” He calls after his sister as she runs into the house. 

The house isn’t anything special. Smaller than most for this area actually, but it’s home. A small part of her thinks her father kept it small to stop people from wanting to visit. Or come to fight. No one would think the best duelers in the entire kingdom would live in a house like this and that keeps them safe. More than anything it keeps Skylar safe. If someone found out that there weren't three children in this house, if someone pieced together all of it, she would be doomed. Or not be able to fight, snap her wand and tell her she could never duel again and at that point they might as well just kill her. 

She closed the screen door behind her, letting it slam harder than she normally would. Every thought on the tiny innocent letter that could ruin her life. Vaguely, she processes that Mace is now in the kitchen with her. 

With shaking fingers she rips open the seal and pulls out the letter. 

 “We hope this letter finds you well. 

On Behalf of His Royal Majesty, William Weasley, 

The presence of both Mason and Skylar Green are being requested to partake in the Tri Wizard Tournament. 

A carriage arrives to pick you up on the first of May. 

Best regards, 

Alastor Moody, Assistant to the Royal family.” 

“May first. That’s a week away.” Mace says once he finishes scanning the letter over his sister's shoulder. 

“I can't go!” She screams. Voice wavering slightly. 

“It doesn’t look like you have a choice. You don’t turn down a royal summons.” He says grabbing the letter out of her shaking fingers. 

“I’ll write back and say I have dragon poxs. Something.” She shoots back after a moment of thinking. 

“And risk them sending a doctor? Absolutely not.” 

“I’ll hide. Run away?” Mace just shakes his head. 

“Calm down. We’ll think of something. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise.” He says and grabs her to pull her into a hug. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She cries into his shoulder. 

The week goes by quickly, and they still did not have a plan. Not one that was rational at least. And Mace shoots her down everytime she suggests just disappearing. 

“We do not back down from a challenge” He says sternly. 

“This isn’t a challenge. This is crazy.” Was her response to that comment. 

The general feeling of dread seems to intensify as the two go to bed on the last day of April.

“Merlin, just let it turn out okay.” Skylar says to herself before she blows out the candle that night. She stays up most of the night tossing and turning. A small part of her contemplates waking up Mace but what good will that do in the long run. He’ll just say she’s overreacting again. So she tries her best to sleep and ends up falling asleep shortly after the sun rises. 

A loud knock startles her out of her sleep. Mace opens the door with a grim face. Behind him is a server-looking woman with square glasses. Her black hair is pulled back into a tight bun that gives her entire face a very pitched looked. She was wearing an emerald traveling cloak. Skylar jumps out of bed before she remembers herself. Standing next to her bed she realizes that they’ve already been caught. 

“I’d rather hoped you had come up with  a plan on your own.” The older woman sighed as she walked into the room, closing the door on Mace. She suddenly reached into her bag and pulled out a large page hat. “That’ll cover your hair enough to get you into the castle.” She pushed Skylar into her vanity chair and promptly started braiding the girls hair. Once done she pins the hat over her hair in a way that shades her face as well. 

“That’ll do.” She says in a satisfied voice. With that she walks over to the small closet and looks through it. “As will these.” Pulling out clothes she throws them to the very confused girl. The woman gives her a look and up and down and Skylar suddenly realizes she wants her to change now. 

“Girl I’ve raised more children than you can count. Change. Now.” She sighs when she notices the look on the girls face. She at least gives her the decency of turning around while she strips to her undergarments. Hiding her embarrassment, she pulls on the itchy tweed pants and the green linen shirt she had also been thrown. McGonagall gives her a stern look over and simply nods her head. 

“Pack all of the clothes you have. Leave the dresses. It looks like the princess might have some that will fit you.” With one more stern look Skylar realizes she had been given another instruction. 

“Oh..Yes..Yes ma’am.” She says as she went to grab her small suitcase and starts throwing all of the work clothes she had. That plus some of her more favorite dueling wands. 

She doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows raise when she sees them. 

“Okay.” Skylar says looking around. “That’s everything then.” 

“Perfect. Let’s go get your brother and we’ll be off.” She pulls out a pocket watch. “Better be fast. We’re already running behind.” She shoos the girl out of her room and grabs her bag before closing the door. 

“How did you know?” Skylar asked the woman when they got outside of the house. 

For the first time she sees her smile. “I’ve seen all the birth records for this area and nothing matched up.” Skylar pales at her words. The woman gives a small laugh. “Nothing to worry about by seeing them I changed them to match what everyone already assumes. Although I’m glad you can see the severity of being found.” The smile falls away. “I have been in charge of raising the royal families children but I do have other duties in the kingdom. So now my job is making sure you survive this whole ordeal.”  She looks the girl up and down and sighs. 

“Lady Minerva McGonagall.” she says, extending her hand slightly. Skylar grabs it and gives her hand a firm shake. “I do hope you have a better plan than what I saw today?” 

“My plan was just to run away but Mace says we never back down from a challenge.” Skylar responds. 

“And what a challenge this will be. Alright enough chit-chat.” 

Mace has now joined them outside. Carrying a small bag thrown over his shoulder. 

“Time to go.” McGonagall says and gestures for the two of them to climb in. After throwing their bags in the luggage carrier in the back they hop into the carriage and set off for the main city. 

The castle has been in a flurry all morning. Getting ready for the Tri wizard tournament champions to arrive. Maids and security running around getting rooms ready and greeting everyone at arrival. 

Fred sighed heavily to himself. This is the biggest deal anyone has made of the Tri wizard tournament in over a century. Leave it to Bill to try to outdo is father. Everyone in the family knows the real reason he’s trying to make this a bigger event than it needs to be, and while he understands it, what it symbolizes is terrifying. 

He stares out of the large bay window in his room. Sunlight just started to peak over the horizon making the grounds one of his favorite shades of pink. He should have been down in the rink to start his training about an hour ago but couldn’t find the energy to be around some of the new fighters that have come in. All so loud and determined to prove themselves. Once word got around that the Green brothers were coming it became chaos. Most of them personally having lost to them, it became a matter of pride. Seeing how they trained, how serious they must take the skill and most of all, trying to learn them well enough to figure out their weak spots. Training is something typically done in private so training with the same people you compete against is out of many of their comfort levels. 

A knock on the door pulls him out of his thoughts. “Yes?” He called in response. Already knowing who it was. 

“You never showed up. Come on, everyone is waiting for you.” A voice said from the door. 

“This is so pointless, George. You see that right?” He didn’t move when he spoke. 

“Mate, I hate this as much as you do but we have to set an example right?” His twin responded. 

“Says the one who gets to keep his nose buried in books all day. Why didn’t I choose to do more schooling?” He sighed once again and went to grab his training bag from it’s hook.

“Because we share one brain cell and we have found out we can’t both use it at the same time.”  The thought makes them both laugh. George always has a way of cheering him up and vice versa. The beauty of being raised alongside someone. If one was sad then they both would suffer so they do their best to keep each other in light spirits. 

“Let's get this over with.” He says, clapping his brother on the shoulder and closing the door. 

Of course the arena was already crazy by the time he arrived. George takes his place on the sidelines , notebook in hand to write about the events of training as normal for the competition. 

He ran into what he thought was a wall, but typically walls dont yelp. Fred looks in front of him and is confused, thinking he imagined it until he looks down on the ground and sees a mess of fabric and curls. 

“Oh no.” He scrambles to give her a hand up, wrapping his own hand around her shoulder. 

“Merlin are the hallways in this castle not big enough-” The girl starts, then her eyes go round as she sees his face. She instantly pales and he fights the urge to laugh at her expression. 

“I could definitely ask someone to fix that for you.” He said with a laugh. The first thing he really notices about her are her eyes. Now that they seemed to have gone back down to their normal size. He’d call them brown but that doesn’t seem to do it justice. Standing as close to the window as they are, he can see little flecks of gold and even some blue in them. Like someone splattered paint at a chocolate brown canvas. And her hair seems isn’t exactly curly or straight but a sort of wild middle.  He’d be an idiot to say she wasn’t pretty but with how shocked she looked she just looks funny. 

“I am so sorry. Pri-” He holds up a hand cutting her off for the second time. Formal too.

“I should have watched where I was going. And you must be new around here. Fred.” He holds out his hand and he can see her freeze. “It’s polite to shake it, ya know?” 

That seems to unfreeze her and she jerks her hand out, almost robotically. He noticed how her hand felt a little too rough. 

“Are you here for the tournament?” He asked once he let her hand go. 

“Umm...no..why would I be?” She responded a little too quickly. 

“My mom sent out a bunch of personal invitations to some of the ladies in the court. And some others.” Fred says remembering the way her hands felt rough. Like she actually does something besides sit around and try on hats and gossip. 

“Ah. Yes. Something like that then.” She says with a small laugh. 

“Sorry this is just my first day in the castle and I haven’t seen anyone.” This makes him laugh. 

“So definitely your first time in the castle. So what’s your name? Since you seem to know mine, it’s only fair.” 

“S..Um Abigail.” The girl responds. “Abigail Jones.” He laughs again. 

“You sure? You don’t seem so sure.” He giddies her. 

She nods. “Absolutely sure.” 

“Glad we could get that established.” She can’t help but give a small laugh at his tone. 

She has the kind of laugh that seemed like it belonged in one of his meetings. It was a deep belly laugh, even if it was just a little one. He made the decision right then and there to make her laugh more. 

A clink of heels echo through the hallway. 

“Oh there you are!” A familiar voice calls from down the hall. Fred’s head immediately snaps up. Used to people constantly looking for him. 

“Minnie!” He calls when he sees the woman standing in front of him. 

“Minnie?” the girl next to him whispers with a small giggle. 

“I have been looking for you everywhere!” McGonagall comes stomping down the hallway with a certain fury in her eyes that makes Fred feel like he just pulled one of his first pranks all over again. She completely blows past him and grabs Abigail's wrist. 

“Fred. Trouble as always I see” Minerva says with a slight smile. “You. Now.” She pulls the girls arm and starts heading the way she came. 

“Well it was nice meeting you!” Fred calls at the retreating girl. 

“Same to you.” She flashes him one of the biggest smiles he’s seen in a long 

“Now if i have to explain the simple rules of a duel to you one more time. I will hex you into the next century.” Mace screams into Krum’s face. A hand is suddenly on his shoulder. 

“I got this.” A voice deeper than what he’s used to saying in his ear. That one was his idea actually.  A spell to make her voice deeper to actually pass off as who she’s trying to. Forces her from being mute, especially when you have to count during duels. 

“Krum. You and me. Now.” Skylar shouts across the pitch. 

His chest actually seems to puff up more as he walks into the dueling area. 

The two face each other and bow. Through their masks, Skylar never takes her eyes off of the man. 

“One. Two. Thr-” Before the last syllable is even out of his mouth, he gets blasted onto his back. 

“Now next time, you’ll figure out that we have those rules to be fair. If that’s the only way you can beat someone. Do better.” Skylar calls to him before spinning on her heel and turning away. 

Fred just stares in awe as he walks away. Krum is one of the biggest douches there is and if he’s going to be the one to constantly put him in his place, then maybe this tournament is worth it after all.

#royal au #oc royal #harry potter oc #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley au #dont underestimate me #royal!au #royal!weasley

[insxparablxduo]

Drabble based on my fantasy au. It’s ok if u don’t read as y’know its an au and not cannon but yeah I had fun with this one.

Oh, this was annoying as fuck. 

At first fighting a dancer and a soldier class seemed easy. Almost stupidly so. Surely they were left behind to die here by them or any other group brave enough to challenge him. Right? Wrong. 

If it was true they'd have killed the twins by now. Maybe they shouldn't have underestimated them so much. The truth of the matter was they were left in charge of this keep under direct commands from their 'master'. They were part of the cause for so many peoples suffering, and they had done it willingly? They weren't even the first 'boss' they've fought, so clearly they were a lot stronger than what meets the eye, and they were learning that lesson now. 

Dancers are known to be fairly weak and incredibly vulnerable to attacks, especially since they wore little to no armor. Their attacks weren't all that powerful either as they weren't particularly strong nor did most really even know what to do with weapons other than to block or even parry. The only difficult thing about them was they were hard to hit, but would go down easy just with a couple of attacks. 

Soldiers on the other hand wore hefty armor and carried great swords or a sword and a heavy and thick shield. This one wasn't very different. He had a great sword and pretty bulky armor. Which meant they would just have to chip away at his armor since he had no other protection. 

This fight should've been fairly easy. Especially with how much stronger they got to make it all the way up here. This should've been so easy, fighting 10 waves of their grunts back to back should've been easier.

Oh, how wrong they were.

First off, since when the fuck did dancers get so strong? It made sense to target and pick her off first since she was clearly the weakest. Whenever they tried to attack her via magic, sword, arrow, whatever her brother would always get in the way and cover for her. No matter how many of them went to attack her. It became clear if they wanted to attack her they would have to get rid of the brother first. No matter, dancers didn't really do much, but give their teammates a little motivation that helped them fight just a bit better, right? Wrong again.

Apparently they also had the capability to wake those who were passed out. They had targeted all of their attacks on her brother and paid her absolutely no mind. All she was doing was dancing without seemingly a care in the world or mind to what was going on around her. Slowly they had worn down her brother.  The only challenging thing at first is he would look at her and suddenly his attacks would get much stronger, or somehow he was much more agile than he should be, and he was evading more blows than should be possible. 

When they spared her a glance they would find themselves entranced and open to attacks or a fog would come over their minds and when they came out of it apparently they were fighting their other teammates. Matt seemed to have the later problem the most. Distantly, Janne remembers that dancers danced to please the gods. Considering how effective she was, she must've been favored by the gods. Or perhaps she was so skilled they couldn't help, but favor her? Either way, she was annoying.

When her brother fell, they let out a collective sigh of relief. He was much harder to take down then he should've been. They were already pretty exhausted. Their health was pretty low, and they didn't have many curative lefts. They would have to end this soon.

That proved to be harder than first thought. Maybe it was something about these two. There was a lot more than met the eye. 

The first obstacle in fighting her was they actually had to look at her now. Her moves were now affecting them a lot more now that they weren't just glancing at her. Her first set made them a lot slower. Janne did his best to attack her with his arrows, but she seemed to weave through them gracefully as if they were a part of her dance. Anytime Mat or Kataya got closer to her, they seemed to either immediately get charmed (Mat more so than Kat) by her once again or just completely missed her.

Despite most of Mat’s attacks coming from above as he jumped ridiculous high up and slammed down with all intentions to spear right through her, he would always miss by a hair as she just slightly moved out of his way. Even with Kataya backing him up by staying firmly on the ground fighting toe to toe on her. Sometimes the dancer would move out of the way and Kataya would follow her only to barely miss getting speared by Mat as he came down. Kat seemed to have the most luck as she managed to cut up her shaw that she twirled around and even the lightest cuts on her person. Still, for the most part she seemed to escape their reach and even got the two to almost hit each other and my own arrows weren’t helping much. 

Even as the two kept trying to hit her with their lance and sword she would just avoid it all no matter how fast they seemed to be, she was faster. It almost looked the three of them were dancing with the way Kat swung her sword and Mat tried to pierce through and stab her, she just weaved around it all, keeping the same grace she had once they started. Eventually Matt or Kat would move back to catch their breath, giving him and Lina a better opening to try and hit her. 

Lina being the only mage of the group took pride in her roll. He knew she had to be exhausted by now, but she maintained the same power as she kept attacking. Her attacks seemed to have the most success, but every now and then the girl would just hop around her magic as if it was nothing. Before they could even think of a plan to take her down, she did a couple backflips away from them. What was she gaining distance for?

She closed her eyes as she started her next dance. The group tried their best to stop her, but somehow she continued to avoid all their attacks. Her set seemed to be over, and she collapsed for a moment painting and looking up at the sky. Suddenly the clouds broke and a warm tray of sunlight enveloped her and her brother. Grass seemed to grow around his passed out body, and then he got up. 

Oh fuck.

It just got harder from there.

The two groups fought in a frenzy eager to get this over with already. The sister that just stayed behind was now attacking them too after she got up again. Janne switched to being a bard. Collapsing his bow back into a lyre, he sang to give his own team some motivation as it was clear his own attacks were doing little to nothing. On the bright side, this seemed to stop Matt from getting charmed by the sister. The not so bright side it somehow made the sisters dancers stronger. Even as he sang ancient tales and played beautiful music that made his teammates buzz with unrivaled energy that they needed to keep going. It also made his enemies crawl with anxiety. Still, she danced to the rhythm but, seemingly unaffected and danced in a way that counteracted the effect of his own singing.

It seemed that a battle of the arts has now started between the two.

As he kept singing she kept dancing and neither planned to stop till they became the victor. This was also a battle of skill and endurance and Janne didn’t plan to lose. He was regarded as not only the best storyteller in his caravan, but also in many other villages as well. He knew countless stories and had a fine ear for music. Despite his age, he had already masted the lyre. Her dancing would be no match for him.

Sometime after their own little battle began, she started to throw knives. Taking on a more active role to fight them. Still she didn’t stop dancing. Was she showing off? Unfortunately this left her a little more opening to attacks and Kataya focused in on her. 

As the battleground became littered with knives, when had to wonder where was she keeping all of this? Another was when would she run out? Soon enough, that was answered as she reached behind her and suddenly the chains that she had wrapped around her upper body fell to the floor.

After that she seemed to be more focused on fighting then dancing as she started to wield a chain mace. Her agility was still ever apparent of course. She had disguised her true weapon, (?) as something decorative, this whole time. She must be getting desperate as her brother seemed ready to fall again. Despite being awoken at seemingly full strength after being passed out, his moves were more sluggish and weaker. 

Janne considers this a win. Still, he doubts his arrows would be much help, so he continues his supportive role as a bard. 

It wasn’t much longer before they finally managed to win the battle against these ‘generals’. The group has never been so relived before. They barely managed to survive that with the skim of their teeth. The thought of having to fight another general makes them uneasy. If they wanted to fight their leader and not only win but survive, they would need to get much stronger. This battle was proof of how much harder it was going to get from here on. This battle was much harder than the last 5 ‘bosses’ before them.

#this is like 3 pages long in my docs #god #drabble #mun writes #not v happy with the end but oh well