#i’m not fucking brave enough and stable enough and i would care!!! a lot but i’m dumb

[thesungod]

the problem is that at the end of the day i wanted to be a doctor but i don’t have the self discipline confidence academic capability courage and memory to go through medicine and residency and i’ll do physical therapy which is cool and i like it a lot but i wanted to be a doctor and i’m scared i’ll always be partially unsatisfied. maybe i should have changed field all together to numb the pain rather than choosing a career where i literally work with and see doctors all day. but i wanted to not starve lmao

#even if. even if. i tried the entrance tests again which won’t happen #i would fail #i literally am not good at that shit #i got into PT school by a miracle those types of tests kick my ass #i’ve already tried twice and both went :/ #but let’s pretend i get in #i don’t have the self discipline to study as much as med students do all day #i can literally manage 2-3 hours on a good day!!! #my brain just doesn’t work like fucking that!! i would fail #but let’s pretend i manage to do the six years #i’d be a horrible doctor #i’m not fucking brave enough and stable enough and i would care!!! a lot but i’m dumb #wonder how soon i’d be sued for malpractice for making a mistake lol #and the constant anxiety?? #yet… yet #i’ll always grieve it #it’s just something i have to get over with but i know i’ll never be fully satisfied with anything else #i’m afraid that one day by a miracle i’ll graduate PT and i’ll be like oh cool ig #because it wasn’t what i wanted deep down #i like it!!!!! but :/ #also it’s often not taken seriously and it can be pretty disheartening to see people’s opinion on it #i’m sad #i’m a sad girl #vent tag

[zensations35]

Hello,

I hope this ask finds you well.

I'm a bit of a lurker on here, and, well, that Alastor fic had me weak in the knee. (I'm sure that was the intended effect, but I had to tell you)

As I haven't got a blog on here yet, I thought I'd pop into the askbox anonymously to show my appreciation with a gift of my own - a snippet from something I happen to be working on featuring everyone's favourite Radio Demon. If/When I get brave enough to do so, I shall make my presence known and let you know I wrote it.

Yours,

~ Writer Anon 

Radio Silence

“Gooood morning, Alastor!” came the chirping voice of Charlie Morningstar as she twirled into the Radio Demon’s quarters, her eyes bright and her mood, as usual, higher than everyone else in Hell put together.

Alastor was still asleep, which was weird - he was up by nine, every morning, without fail.

Charlie glanced at the clock on the wall, which had just ticked by 9:04.

On the one hand, Alastor would probably kill her for what she was about to do. But she supposed her greatest weakness was caring too much about her friends...

She approached Alastor's bed, its red satin sheets glimmering in the soft light.

Charlie realised she'd never actually seen Alastor look so... peaceful. His face was more relaxed than she'd ever known it, not bearing the strained grin it did while he was awake.

She also realised she'd never seen him quite this pale, save for a slight flush on his cheeks, and a reddish tinge to his small, pointed nose.

Charlie gave Alastor a gentle shake in an attempt to rouse him - she knew he wasn't dead, she could hear him breathing.

He didn't budge.

“Oh,” she muttered, “Um... Husk! We need a wake-up call for the Radio Demon!” she called; surely as the princess of Hell (and hotel manager to boot) she should do something boss-like, and this included delegating tasks to someone who she thought would be best at it.

She’d forgotten, though, that Husk was a cranky little bastard in the mornings, and he made it everyone’s problem.

“Al, you’d better be fuckin’ dead in there,” Husk snarled as he kicked the door in, “or I swear to God-”

“Alright, alright, I’m up,” Alastor stirred, slowly sitting up in bed. 

Charlie was surprised, for a few reasons.

Firstly, she’d expected Alastor to be one of those people that snaps bolt upright when they wake.

And was it just her imagination, or was his voice awfully quiet today?

“Okay, Husk, maybe next time be a little more gentle,” Charlie smiled, but Husk was only half-listening. His face was one of utter confusion at Alastor's appearance.

Charlie looked Alastor over - he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink for the past fortnight. His bleary eyes moved slowly around the room, as though trying to make sense of his surroundings.

He rubbed them, and yawned, but it turned into a jagged cough.

Oh, Charlie thought, that would explain a lot.

“You look like shit,” Husk said.

“Hey,” Charlie turned to him, the faintest hint of a frown crossing her face for mere moments, “What Husk means is, you look really tired, Al, and we’re just a little concerned for you, is all.”

“Oh, please, I’m perfectly fine,” Alastor waved a hand lazily, “I simply... lost track of time reading last night...” Charlie winced at the strain in Alastor’s usually-flawless voice, and the dulled consonants that signified congestion. The brief sniffle Alastor gave only confirmed this.

“You’re sick,” Husk told him.

“Now, now, that was uncalled for,” Alastor’s eyes narrowed, “I know I’m hardly the most stable, but-”

“No, dumbass, you caught something, and you’re sick. Ill. Under the weather. Whatever the fuck they used to say in the 1930s,” Husk clarified.

“Excuse me, I am an Overlord,” Alastor looked affronted, but still that smile never left his face, “I do not succumb to such - to- to such- hhh-!” his words trailed off and his expression slackened, his narrow chest jumping with erratic hitches. He wrenched himself to the side as his eyes closed.

“Hehh’EITshhoo! Hh'EDT-shoo!” Alastor sneezed, doubling over at the waist, “H-hold on... Heh-HEITSHhhoo! Oh, gracious, excuse me...” he sighed, and Charlie and Husk could’ve sworn they heard the feedback of a microphone. 

Probably something to do with his radio powers, they reasoned.

“To such maladies,” Alastor finished.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Mister Overlord, I’m out,” Husk made to walk away, “Playin’ nurse to a radio host ain’t in my job description - or our contract.” He slammed the door behind him. Alastor closed his eyes again, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Ohh, my head...” he murmured, “Can you please tell that... pathetic excuse for a bartender not to do that again?”

“I’ll tell him,” Charlie said, “Now, you stay here, I’ll let the others know you won’t be up today.”

“Not happening,” Alastor managed through a few coughs that scraped at his throat, “I have my radio show, and I can’t let my listeners down.”

Charlie considered this for a moment.

No-one, not even Lucifer himself, could get Alastor to skip his beloved radio show.

“Rest up till then, that way you’ll have more energy for the show,” she eventually settled on, “I’ll get Niffty to make you tea. Your show’s at seven, right?”

Alastor nodded.

“I’ll check on you in a while, go back to sleep if you need to, okay?” Charlie asked on her way out.

“Okay,” Alastor replied quietly. He figured he should probably save his voice; in life, he’d had a tendency to lose the ability to speak entirely when stricken with a head cold, and he hoped this hadn’t lingered now. 

But as he felt a scratchy, sandpaper-y sensation in his throat, he realised this was wishful thinking.

He flopped back down onto his pillows with a world-weary sigh.

Downstairs, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Niffty and Vaggie were waiting. 

Pentious looked at his pocket watch - Jesus, the guy was nearly as dated as Alastor - which now read ten minutes past nine.

“Guys, I’m worried about Charlie,” Vaggie finally said.

“You’re always worried about Charlie,” Angel told her, “If I know her, she should be down any minute...”

The door burst open.

But it wasn’t Charlie on the other side of it; it was Husk.

“Radio Demon’s sick, we’re fucked,” Husk said bluntly before heading behind the bar, for two reasons: to try and forget the absolute horror that had been Alastor of all people looking quite that dishevelled, and also because, well, alcohol was in hand sanitiser, right? So it stood to reason that a stiff drink would help prevent any sickness from arising. Yeah. That was why.

For good measure, he put a squeeze of orange juce in there too - he remembered having read somewhere that oranges helped keep the immune system in good shape.

Niffty’s eye twitched. She bolted from her spot to grab her cleaning materials and disinfect the living shit out of the hotel.

“Weirdos,” Angel tutted, “Oh, come on, not you too!” He snapped as he saw Pentious creep towards the door.

“Well, exssscuse me,” Pentious hissed, a look of disdain on his face, “but I have a reputation to uphold, and it wouldn’t do to fall ill and render myself vulnerable. So, goodbye.”

Charlie walked in right as Pentious left, looking highly confused. This bewilderment was amplified by Niffty immediately running up to her and giving her a generous helping of anti-bacterial spray, before scurrying off again.

Charlie's gaze wandered to the bar, where Husk was drumming his hand against the counter, his eyebrows knitted together in worry.

“How the fuck did I get landed with this bunch a’ freaks?” Angel wondered aloud, “I mean, what’s the problem? He’s probably just got a cold or somethin’, not the Black Death.”

“Because if whatever he’s got is strong enough to put an Overlord outta commission, who knows what it’d do to the rest of us?” Husk phrased it perfectly, pouring out a glass of fresh orange juice and sliding it across the bar to Charlie. She drank it, and thanked him.

“Husk, I appreciate your concern - and your juice - but I’m sure Alastor’s gonna be fine. Angel’s right-”

“Not a sentence I ever thought I’d hear,” Vaggie muttered.

“- he’s just a little under the weather, he’ll be over it in a few days,” Charlie finished.

Soooooo yeah wait and seeeeee

A N O N

Okay, I hope it's okay for me to post this. I know you might have wanted to keep this private and I 100% will take it down if you want but I COULD NOT LIVE WITH MYSELF IF I DIDN'T SCREAM ABOUT IT SO

Anon. I literally NEED more of your writing. IT HAS SUSTAINED ME THIS NIGHT. I have to start by saying that. You don't have a BLOG?? MAKE ONE IMMEDIATLY PLS. I JUST. *grabby hands* Your portrayal of the characters made words fall out of my FUCKING FACE

Charlie's voice being higher than everyone else in Hell put together. -I FUCKING CACKLED

AND ALASTOR WHUMP?? IT'S LIKE YOU WERE LISTENING AND ANSWERED MY PRAYERS IS2G

“Radio Demon’s sick, we’re fucked,” oh MY GODS HE WOULD LITERALLY SAY THAT jesszzus I loved your Alastor/Husk interactions. 🤌

THE QUIP ABOUT PENTIOUS BEIGN AS DATED AS ALASTOR SENT ME AKJFDSHG

Seriously, I'm SO FUCKING HONORED you sent this to me and I fucking PRAY to our lord and savior vivziepop that you continue this story 🙏

Keep slaying anon <3 ILYSM

#ask #zen answers #other people's writing #this is incredible #i call upon my followers to support a budding writer #let's get this anon a fucking BLOG #TAKE MY POWER ANON

[jilliannotfound]

Sbi get injured in battle and littlesibling!reader help bandage their wounds? They/them pronouns also!

𝔹𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕎𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕤

SBI x GN!LittleSibling!Reader (in-game)

Summary: Request :)

Warnings: Mentions of blood and wounds, slight language

A/N: Hello anon! I was struggling to think of a time when SBI were all fighting on the same side so I kind of made up a battle (which is why the beginning of this story is a little slow, I had a lot of groundwork to lay down lol). Have fun reading this fluffy little family fic! (Part 2 can be read here!)

—

Y/N sat staring out of their icy bedroom window waiting for their family members to return home.

They had all gone to fight to rescue Technoblade’s horse as well as avenge Tommy’s pet cow.

Sapnap had kidnapped Henry and Carl to get leverage after Dream had given Sapnap’s fish, Mars, to Tommy. He hadn’t meant to kill Tommy’s cow, especially knowing his most prized belonging was in Tommy’s possession, but the deed was done and now they were going to battle to rescue Techno’s beloved pet before he met the same fate.

Even after begging their father to allow them to fight, Y/N was forced to stay home.

“Dad please! I’ve been practicing almost every day! I’m strong enough to fight with you guys.” Y/N pleaded.

“You’ve been doing very well with your practice but you’re too young still.” Phil said.

“I’m only a couple of years younger than Tommy and he gets to fight! How is that fair?”

“Those couple of years make a huge difference, Y/N. You’re just not ready yet, end of story.” He countered, grabbing his sword from the table and heading downstairs to finish getting ready.

They let out a loud huff and plopped their body onto one of the wooden chairs surrounding the table.

“Chin up, kiddo. You’ll be ready before you know it. Don’t tell Tommy, but I think you’re a better sparring partner than he is.” Techno said, hoping to cheer up his youngest sibling.

They smiled, looking up at him as he ruffled a hand through their hair before leaving to join Phil downstairs.

After what felt like hours of watching the horizon for any sign of their family returning, Y/N finally saw the four men trudging through the snow towards their home.

Y/N quickly ran downstairs opening the door just in time for their father and two out of their three brothers to enter.

Phil always insisted on taking care of himself after fighting, never wanting to burden his children, so he put a kettle on the stove and disappeared into the bathroom.

Tommy, with an arm wrapped around Wilbur’s shoulder, limped to the table as Y/N quickly grabbed the first aid kit.

There was a large rip on the side of Tommy’s pants revealing a gash on his calf that his younger sibling quickly began to tend to.

“What happened?” They asked, getting a warm cloth to wipe off as much dried blood as they could.

“This dumbass fell down a hill and hit a rock.” Wilbur explained, taking care of his own minor cuts.

“It was either get fucking shot or fall and I chose the option that had me least likely dead, you prick.” Tommy responded.

“Stay still, this is going to burn.” They warned before slowly pouring alcohol on his leg to clean the wound.

Tommy hissed at the sudden stinging and his sibling quickly began fanning cool air on his leg to minimize the effect.

After his leg was well wrapped up, Wilbur began cleaning the scratches on Tommy’s face.

Wilbur always somehow managed to leave battles with little to no physical damage, no one really understood how.

“Where’s Techno?” Y/N asked.

“At the stable with Carl. He said he was fine.”

He always said that though, and Y/N knew better than anyone that he never was.

Grabbing a thermos full of hot tea and the first aid kit, they headed outside to the stable to help their last brother.

“Hey.” They said softly approaching Techno. “I brought you some tea since it’s so chilly out.”

Techno gratefully took the warm cup as his little sibling shivered. He quickly took off his red cape, wrapping it around their smaller shoulders.

As he shed the layer of warmth, Y/N saw the large red stain covering his normally white button-up.

Without another thought, Y/N grabbed their brother's free hand and dragged him into the lower level of their home knowing this would be time-consuming and it was far too cold to take care of outside.

They set the first aid kit down and forced him to sit on the small bench in the room, reaching behind his head to untie the pig skull mask secured to his face as well as remove the gold crown from the top of his pink-haired head.

A few scratches littered his jaw but they were nothing to worry about so Y/N began unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a large cut that was almost the full length of his chest.

They examined the large wound and then looked their brother in the eyes. He looked almost embarrassed.

“You know, it’s okay to get hurt.” They said, starting to clean him up much like they’d done a few minutes prior for their other brother.

He shook his head with a small frown, causing Y/N to have a frown of their own.

“I think it shows how brave you are.”

The embarrassment left his face, now there was just a tinge of confusion.

“Battle wounds turn into battle scars. Battle scars show strength.”

“No, they show weakness. They show that I was weak enough to get hit.” He whimpered.

“But then they’ll heal and show how strong you are for overcoming it.” They countered with a kind smile.

Techno smiled up at his concentrated sibling. They always knew how to find the bright side of any situation and he couldn’t wait to have them fight by their family’s side someday.

#sbi x reader #sbi family dynamic #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp fanfiction #philza #technoblade #wilbur soot #tommyinnit

[sockendrache]

Egg

Inspired by my own dissatisfaction that Kyle didn’t get a Monstie and @magicallynormal ‘s idea of Kyle’s Monstie being a Tobi-Kadachi, I wrote this little ff in like 2 hours because I had nothing better to do

I wanted the Rider to stay gender-neutral but it just sounds like Kyle never bothered to ask them for their name-

___________________

“This is a terrible idea.”

“You should’ve thought about it before we left Kuan, then.”

Without sparing Kyle another glance, the Rider entered the Monster’s nesting-area without any hesitation showing on their face; Ratha close behind them. From within the depths of the cave, the Hunter could hear distant roars and predatory clicks; instinctively, he straightens his back, hand hovering over his bow.

The Rider, kneeling besides the huge nest, doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds at all; way too busy examining the brightly colored eggs.

Off to the sides, Kyle spots various piles of worn-down bones, all sporting teeth-marks and scratches, some entirely broken open. Along with a few stray chunks of flesh, almost blending into the ground of the den. They don’t look very fresh; probably a few days old already. His instincts tell Kyle to quickly gather up a few samples of whatever he can get his hands on, maybe let his scoutflies out to take in the scents; then leave the den as quickly and quietly as possible. Not taking anything valuable with him, not disturbing the Monster’s home in any way.

Though... the weight of the kinship-stone, strapped to his left hand, reminds him of the reason for this “expedition”.

He’s not here to take samples for the ever-curious Research Center, nor to track down a Monster. He’s not here to deliver chunks of flesh or eggs.... however, maybe he should just imagine he’s here for a delivery-quest. Maybe that would help calm his poor nerves, still absolutely shot to hell.

Kyle, who was born and raised a Hunter, who knows nothing else; he’s here to get his first Monstie.

It’s absolutely unheard of. A Hunter, whose sole purpose is to hunt these beasts down –maybe capturing them after tiring them out in battle, if the quest calls for it- is about to form a bond with one of these creatures, who he spent years of his life learning the weaknesses of, training to take down beasts several times his size.

Kyle takes a strained breath, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. Over their shoulder, the Rider shoots him a look; their eyes warm, their glance almost comforting.

“Come closer.”, they calmly say, gesturing with their hand towards the nest.

Feeling drastically out of his element, Kyle follows the command; takes a few brave steps towards the nest and promptly freezes up again.

He knows the process of this; hell, he’s already lost track of how often he stood guard while his new Rider-friend sifted through a Monster’s nest. He knew how to hold Wyvern-eggs, how damn heavy these things were and how stupid you looked while carrying one. He knew how these things were goddamn predator-magnets, and how easily they broke.

That, perhaps, was one of the things that frightened Kyle the most about this whole situation.

How often had he accidentally broken an egg while out on a transporting-quest? How often had he washed the yolk and slimy egg-whites off his armor in a nearby stream, before tracking his way back to the nest to pick up a new egg? And how often had he not wasted a single thought on it...?

It’s just eggs, he used to think. Eggs that he’ll bring to the canteen after returning to the base, eggs that he’ll probably eat sooner or later before leaving the base again, set out on yet another quest.

And yet, here he was. Standing at a Monster’s nest, containing eggs that he, before he met the Riders, used to scoop up without thinking about it twice. His muscles feel stiff beneath his armor, his throat scratchy and dry; what if he broke this egg too?

“Kyle?”, the Rider’s calm voice rips him out of his violently spinning thoughts. “You okay?”

Was he okay? Good question; if only Kyle knew the answer.

“I... I don’t think I can do this.”, he mutters, hating how small his voice is sounding. Cold fingers brush over his kinship-stone; a gift from the Rider. Apparently, it once belonged to them- before this Wyverian girl gave them their grandfather’s kinship-stone.  “I mean- if I should do this. I’m- I’m a Hunter, we don’t just.... ride Monsters.”

They, like so often, only shake their head the slightest bit. And calmly, they reach for Kyle’s hand.

“Then why does Ratha love you so much?”

Almost as if on command, a big, scaly head bumps into his back; Ratha’s idea of a hug. After having spent a little time on Hakolo-island, it was almost frightening to see how.... human Monsters -or Monsties, as Kyle learned they were called- could be. He’s seen Ratha pick up on emotions, display human-like behavior; and not just on him. The Rider loved to point out the Monster’s behaviors whenever they took on a quest together, and as someone who’s spent his whole life learning about Monsters, it felt so entirely.... different, watching their behavior in packs, or see something as innocently as an Azuros teaching its cubs how to fish.  

It felt almost unreal.

As a Hunter, most, if not all of his hunting-quests were targeting Monsters wrecking havoc; and when he’s out collecting ingredients or samples, he rarely ever got the chance of seeing Monsters in their natural habitat. And admittedly... seeing these beasts; even the ones that were known for their hostile behavior, completely unbothered by his presence... it shook something deep inside Kyle’s core.

Gently, cold fingers intertwine with his; pulling him down to kneel next to the Rider. Kyle peers over the edge of the massive nest; its inside carefully laid out with tufts of fur and moss. It’s like a giant bird-nest, the Monster clearly having put a lot of work into the making of it. Upon closer inspection of the fur, Kyle has a vague idea of whose nest he’s sitting at right now; though, following the Rider around, he quickly learned that there’s often a few “imposter”-eggs in a nest, smuggled in by Monsters not bothering to care for their young one hatched.

The silence feels tense; so, Kyle attempts to ease it a little.

“Why didn’t Navirou come along? Wouldn’t he be of help, sniffing out a good egg?”

Quietly, the Rider shook their head, giving Kyle an almost apologetic smile. They weren’t a big fan of words; he quickly caught up on that. However, this look didn’t need any words; after all, Kyle did tag along to a few egg-hunts before, watching from the sidelines as Navirou ushered them out of the den, barely giving the Rider enough time to get a good grip on the newly acquired egg. It’s not like Kyle had anything against the Felyne personally; but he had to admit that he was glad he wouldn’t have to rush through this process, only to prevent Navirou from having a Monster-induced heart-attack.

After all, he had a feeling that time would be an important factor in picking out his first Monstie.

With a huff, the Rider pushes themselves up, gently pulling Kyle with them as they step into the nest. Twigs crunch under his weight as he kneels down, getting onto the same level as the eggs.

The Rider placed their hand on Kyle’s shoulder; he’d lie if he tried to tell anyone that it wasn’t comforting. “Just pick the egg you have a connection to. Good smell or not, doesn’t matter. Don’t tell Navi I said that, though.”

The instructions are clear, yet awfully vague; and Kyle can’t help but note how it’s one of the longest sentences he’s ever heard from them. “Take your time, but.... not too much. Before an angry Mama Monster sees us.”

“....sounds reasonable.”

As he looks over each of the large eggs, most of them brown in color with yellow-ish ovals on the shell, he notices the odd one out. Between the egg of an herbivore, if he recalled correctly, laid a pale blue egg, the shell littered with dark blue, almost black zigzags.

Apparently, his gaze lingered a little too long on the lone Wyern-egg, as evident by the look the Rider gave him.

“That one?”, they asked, gingerly reaching out to guide Kyle’s hand towards the egg. Despite the cold air having slowly numbed his fingers, the egg’s surprisingly smooth texture is one of the first things that he notices. At first glance, it’s just like any other Wyvern-egg he’s transported before; and yet, in the back of Kyle’s mind, there was something.... else to this egg.

As if he could feel the Monster calling out to him from within its protective shell, only waiting for a Rider to bestow it their blessings and allow it to awaken into this world.

“I- ….is this normal?”

His fingers now shivering, he places his entire hand on the egg, frightened yet amazed how small his hand is compared to the massive egg. The Rider gives him a look that Kyle can’t quite place.

“I feel like-... this little guy wants to come out...?”

Before he knows it, Kyle is protectively clutching the egg to his chest; holding onto it just a little tighter than onto the ones during his transport-quests. The Rider and Ratha lead the way out of the Monster’s den, practically shielding him from the hungry eyes of the predators waiting in their path.

On the flight back to Kuan, Kyle could swear that his kinship-stone was pulsating with life.

__________________________________

“....is this really necessary?”

Back in the village, their first stop was the stables. And under the watchful eye of the Felyne running the stables, Rider and Hunter were preparing to hatch the little Monstie.

The egg –a pulsing fanged Wyvern, as Kyle now knew- was placed in a little nest, and Kyle could think it was staring at him from beneath the shell.

The Rider doesn’t bother answering, instead handing him a stick, with which they –to Kyle’s horror- performed something apparently referred to as “Dance of the tribe”, a ritual meant to pray for a healthy Monstie to hatch from an egg. Though, Kyle wasn’t entirely sure if they were just fucking with him, or if it was a legit ritual back on Hakolo-island.

Though, he doubted he’d have time to fly back to Mahana-village and ask the chief for confirmation before his Monstie hatched, and... something told him that he didn’t want to miss this.

And so, with the utmost raise of his eyebrow Kyle could possibly muster, he gingerly reached for the stick.

_________________________________________

By the time he was done, his face bright red and radiating more warmth than the oven inside his house, the egg hadn’t budged. Other than the soft cackle of the fire and Kyle’s tense breathing, the stables were silent, everyone’s eyes fixed on the egg... before suddenly, it shuddered with life.

Kyle, utterly overwhelmed with the situation, could only stare helplessly as the egg started to crack, pieces of the shell starting to fall off and revealing tiny spots of blue fur. Though, the Rider is quick to help; promptly instructing him to hold his kinship-stone towards the egg.

“To help it hatch,” they explained, their eyes practically glazed over with excitement. But hell, in comparison to Kyle, that was nothing. There might have even been tears in his eyes, he didn’t know- not even if they were from excitement or fear.

His kinship-stone starts to glisten in a bright blue light; he’d probably be scared if he hadn’t seen this during his battles with the Rider. The shell continues to crack open, tiny pieces falling off, until the egg shattered with a burst of life, a shrieking roar piercing the tense atmosphere of the stables.

As Kyle is face to face with the little Monstie, his throat starts to tighten.

“A Tobi-Kadachi! What a fine little Meownster,” the Felyne purrs as the Monster looks up at Kyle with –surprisingly- innocent-looking eyes.

Instinctively, something in Kyle wants to reach for his bow- thank the sapphire-star he took it off after entering the village. A tingling heat starts to spread throughout his body; the first hints of adrenaline starting to pump into his blood stream. He’s reminded of the piercing roars of the adults he’s encountered during his hunts, of their bursts of electricity when they glide through the trees and pounce onto their prey.

A bead of sweat collects on his brow; and as always, the Rider seems to notice. Calmly, they appear at his side, taking his clammy hand into theirs and holding it out- that way, Kyle can clearly see how his fingers shake.

The tiny Monster curiously looks at his hand; and just like that, his eyes squeeze shut and Kyle finds himself praying that the little creature is more interested in sniffing him than chewing his fingers off- at least until he feels something soft press up into his palm.

Upon forcing his eyelids open, he sees this newborn Monster rub its unbelievably tiny head against his palm, the smallest chirps coming out of its throat, and the Rider- they carefully let go of his hand, grabbing a hold of the other one and guiding it towards the Monster-…. No, guiding it towards his Monstie and-

The Tobi-Kadachi, this freshly hatched creature; it outright jumps into his arms- a poor attempt at gliding, it seems, and just like that, Kyle’s instinct to reach for his bow is replaced by the instinct to catch the Monster and-

By the gleeful little churr it makes once its settled in Kyle’s arms, he promptly finds himself nuzzling his face into soft fur. Still utterly overwhelmed by the idea of this tiny creature being his Monstie, but as he looks into the Wyvern’s big eyes, so full of innocence and wonder, he suddenly feels very much like he- no, they can do this.

#mhst2 #monster hunter stories 2 #monster hunter stories wings of ruin #monster hunter kyle #monster hunter fanfiction #fanfiction #tobi-kadachi #monster hunter stories #give this boy a monstie im begging you

[jaskiersvalley]

🌼~BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.~🌼 xoxo toss a coin to your bard

You are far too sweet to send this, and my apologies for sitting on this so long without replying! I will definitely be continuing the game and appearing as a loving anon in ask boxes soon. In the meantime, here's a little ficlet of thank you.

As a bit of background, I've been watching Centaurworld recently and this song (Rider's Lullaby) has been stuck in my head for days. So I thought I'd give it a bit of a twist and let the horses of Kaer Morhen have it.

Lullaby of the Wolf

Winters weren't a time of rest for just Witchers. Their trusted companions on the perilous Path were also granted some much needed rest. Roach and Scorpion went years back, familiar enough with each other that Roach's disdain and Scorpion's less desirable personality traits no longer caused problems. They could even be housed in neighbouring stalls which was a major breakthrough on an especially cold winter. All the same, it was a welcome surprise when a bay gelding separated them.

"You're not the prickly bastard's," Roach sniffed daintily.

"My rider travels with him. They call me Nettle. Because I'm a pain in the butt."

There was a snort from Roach and Scorpion laughed heartily at that.

"Bossman called me Scorpion because I stung his pride. He really hoped for a nice juicy steak as his surprise."

Roach dryly cut in, "He should have eaten you anyway, probably would if he could understand you."

Nettle, rather wisely, decided not to comment on that. Or the colourful swearing Scorpion went off on about how a full blooded stallion like him was...actually, Nettle tuned it out in favour of watching a goat trot into the stable and give him a hard stare.

"Prickly's mate is staying, teach him."

Which was how Nettle spent the rest of winter learning the way of a Wolf Witcher's horse. Though he was a Cat Witcher's steed, he was deemed worthy of being brought into the fold. Namely, the lullaby. While horses' singing wasn't audible to humans, Witcher or not, it still seemed to help. Not only did it seem to soothe the Witchers, it helped the horses too, gave them something to focus on outside the wild panic of the situation at hand.

Despite none of them being exceptionally gifted in the way of singing, they all joined in, their soft voices joining to make a chorus.

"Where did the song come from?"

"The old one's mule taught us. Who was taught by the mule before," Roach explained.

The goat, Lil Bleater, chipped in. "It's been passed down generations. Sometimes the old one still hums it. Especially when he's been left by his pups each spring."

That wasn't something Nettle ever heard. But he dutifully memorised the song and even sang it softly under his breath on the way down the mountain, where his human and his mate were tense, as worried as they were on the way up. The others had been right, though they couldn't hear the song, they both relaxed whenever Nettle sang.

It was pure luck that the prickly one's payment for a contract was a horse. She was black, had a tendency to be lame when she didn't want to do something and was, inevitably, named Bitch. Even if she was the nicest horse Nettle had ever met.

"You're a Wolf Witcher's horse now," he told her in the evening as they were left to graze on the sparse grass. "There's some things you need to learn."

Travelling together, Nettle taught Bitch the song. She was definitely suspicious at first.

"Just go lame, they won't pull you in the direction of danger. It's much easier."

Nettle laughed at that. "Their job is to go into danger. And ours is to follow. This is what we can do for them. Carry them, be there for them when nobody else wants to be. It's not much but sometimes we're the only thing they have. It's an honour."

So together they sang and Bitch learned to be brave. She appreciated not being coerced into things, no forceful shoving, no smacks. A lot of cursing and name calling, even a threat of being eaten if she didn't get with the programme but it was all empty words. The underlying impression she got from her prickly owner was that he cared and that was his problem. Because his fragile heart couldn't bear the idea of more senseless loss. Everyone knew the fate of those who got close to a Witcher, human, horse, goat, they all eventually died. But Bitch grew fond of him, she sang the song Nettle had taught her the first night they were alone. Nettle and his Witcher had to head off, she didn't pay much attention to the reason, her main concern was her prickly one and his sudden sullen coldness. It seemed Nettle had been right, Witcher sometimes only had their horses.

They'd been alone together for weeks. Human settlements came and went, monsters too. Her job was to make sure her human got from one place to the next and, sometimes, she kicked up a fuss still, limping in an effort to get him to rest. Despite her best efforts he was still miserable, obviously missing the company of his mate even when he vehemently denied the need for anything but solitude.

Trust was an easy thing to earn. Bitch was content to follow her new owner, following after him obediently. Though his job was as odds with her nature, he had yet to lead her wrong. And she no longer gave him grief either, only insisting on breaks when he needed them too. At least, that was what she told herself until she heard a soft baritone shakily singing.

"You're okay, you're alright, I'll never ever leave your side."

The voice buckled, a soft "I'm sorry" that most certainly wasn't part of the song whispered before continuing, "I will stay and I will fight with you."

Stomping her feet, Bitch pulled at her reins. It had her prickly owner cursing and pulling back, trying to get her to follow along. However, they weren't moving towards the song and Bitch wasn't going to let this go. Rearing up, the yanked her reins free and started off at a canter towards the voice. She ignored the cursing and yelling from behind, trusting her Witcher to follow. Off the path, she crashed into a clearing where a dark horse was curled around a large body. As she clattered to a halt, the horse snorted defensively, ears pinned back.

"If you know what's good for you, you fuck off right now," he snarled. The smell of blood made Bitch shift uncomfortably.

"The song! I know it!" As she approached, the other horse snorted in warning and slowly got to his feet, standing protectively over the barely conscious Witcher.

Though Bitch tried to sing the song, the other horse pawed at the ground. He would have no trouble running her down, they both knew it. Before he could charge though, Bitch's Witcher tumbled into the clearing and blinked once.

"Fucking hell Eskel, what the bloody tits have you done?" There was no hesitation as he barged up to the body and gave the large horse a two handed shove with a growled "move it".

"He's mine," Bitch said, plain and simple. "I've not had him long but he's a good man."

"I know, Prickly is part of Bossman's herd. Didn't think Prickly ever really wanted a steed."

"He didn't. But he got me anyway. Calls me Bitch."

"Nice. I go by Scorpion." The dark horse trotted closer, turning to look at his human with sadness. "I wouldn't do anything to help. I'm glad you brought Prickly here."

They watched together as a camp was quickly set up, potions poured in the fallen Witcher's mouth and wounds tended to with gruff efficiency.

"We might as well settle in," Scorpion announced. "It'll be a couple of days at least before we get moving. And knowing these two, we'll stay in close quarters for a while yet. Welcome to the herd."

#minor lambert/aiden #roach #scorpion #lil bleater #lambert #the witcher #oc horses #tldr: the horses of kaer morhen have a song

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 6- Betrayer Moon

Summary: Temeria holds a beast that has been said to have slaughtered many. With the sweet sound of coins offered you’re ready for another wild hunt.

Warnings: lil smut we starting out with, gore and blood as per usual, fluff 

Masterlist

Outside the winds are cold and snowy as the night cascades its great darkness over the land of the Continent. But none of that holds any kind of significance as you lay in the warm bed of a village tavern, Geralt's muscular body pressing flush against your heated skin. You hold tightly onto the tousled bed sheets as he thrusts into you over and over again, nothing but the sweet sounds of his grunts and your pleasant moaning filling the darkly lit room but for a simple fire in the hearth.

He deliciously rocks you into the mattress as he gently kisses your sweaty temple, sending bolts of electricity coursing throughout your entire being as you await your building climax. With each new thrust of Geralt's manhood into your entrance, you try and hold back a scream but to no avail. He quickly silences you with a heated kiss, both of your tongues dancing in the dark with one another as he pushes your legs apart even more, his large body taking you all in.

He's a lot to handle but you can take it, no matter what he throws at you. Soon he's a moaning mess as he dumps his load into your clenching walls, hitting your own high just the same, you suddenly claw at his back as he pumps himself into you a couple more times before slowly leaning up to take a good look at your blissfully beautiful face. He gently pulls out of you, falling onto the bed at your side as the both of lay in silence, the only viable sounds coming from your heavy breaths and the crackling of the fireplace.

"So, I heard something interesting today." You begin, turning on your side to lean yourself into his chest as he stares at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk gracing his handsome features.

"Do tell." He quietly mumbles.

"I was conversing with some of the whores by the market today, asking about what interesting creatures have met their eyes and whatnot. When wouldn't you know it, another Witcher had come through this very village." He raises an eyebrow, curiosity catching his interest quick, "Said he fled Temeria with some miners coin when his ass was supposed to be killing their monster. I think foul play." You inquire, absentmindedly running your fingers over his battle scars, Geralt's intrigued by your words but is honestly enjoying himself too much to care about anything else at the moment.

Sighing in deep content he shifts his golden gaze onto you, "Tonight I will blissfully ignore my problems." He muses, closing his eyes as you continue to lightly trail your fingers against his skin, "Just uh...keeping doing that." A drunken smile gracing his sweaty face, as you break out into a grin while your eyes fully take in his glistening muscular form that's laying butt-ass naked right next to you. Oh, how did you get so lucky with a man like him?

The rest of the night is spent inside one another here and there, until you both fall asleep in an exhausted heap of tangled limbs and messy blankets. The next morning you two get dressed and head for Temeria, Geralt wisely leaving Roach with the stable boy until you both come back to retrieve her, whenever that may be.

The hike to Temeria went rather smoothly, no one to bother you and the cold of the winter weather doing nothing to freeze you, considering you're practically immune to feeling cold, another wondrous perk of being half vampire.

As you walk out of the shadowy woodland you look up to see a large abandoned castle stout upon the top of a rocky hill, thick forest surrounding it. Looking ahead you notice as the trail suddenly dives into the earth, lamps held up by steel poles guiding the way in, but before this you stop to read over a poster pinned to a wooden pole.

"Temeria, realm of monsters and cowardly kings." You turn to Geralt with an amused smirk upon your face, "Well it's nice to know they don't hold anything back." You laugh before turning to walk down the descending trail, Geralt smiling as he watches you go.

Your time in the mines was a quick one, the miners and the kings men on the verge of a tiny battle that was stopped by Geralt's calm inquisition. The high guard or whoever the fuck, lead you and your Witcher out of the mines and into the shadowy snow covered woods, you're guessing with interior motives but nonetheless you follow.

As you're walking next to Geralt, with the kingsmen on their steeds to either side of you; all of a sudden you catch the scent of another being lurking in the shadows. Another heartbeat thudding in the night, then not even ten seconds later do the guards fall from their horses, enchanted by some sleeping spell. Geralt quickly pulls out his silver sword as you bare your opened hands, emitting crackling purple lighting from your fingertips, this is sorcery at play and you know just how to fight it if need be.

"You can put down your sword...and calm your lightning. I'm not here to hurt you." Speaks a woman's calm voice, her shadowed silhouette walking into view.

"Says the witch hiding in the woods." Mutters Geralt defensively, sword still held out in front of him as you slowly lower your hands, dissipating away the lightning. You can tell this mage has come with no ill intent, even if you don't adherently feel very fond of such beings, you're wise enough to understand that not all are terrible.

"Sorceress." Corrects the curly haired woman.

"Witch." He growls darkly, you lightly touch him on the shoulder, silently asking him to calm is unneeded anger, he slowly brings his sword to his side.

"Triss Merigold. I serve King Foltest." She serenely replies. A simple mage.

"So he makes a show of kicking us out...then sends his errand girl to slip me some coin so we kill his monster." Proclaims Geralt smartly, believing he's just figured her out.

"Not a very original plan for a king." You add, your brows furrowing in thought.

"It's my plan. My coin. And I don't want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it." Assures Triss.

"Save it?" You ask.

Wanting to hear more she takes you both into her area within the castle where she goes into more detail about the happenings in the woods. Geralt leans against a counter as you sit on a wooden table, the both of you facing Triss who stands by a desk and chair directly in front of you.

"Six years ago, stable hands statred vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister Adda is buried. Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."

oh the drama, you wanted to laugh when she said that but wisely chose against that.

"Was she pregnant?" You finally ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. Maybe that's why this beast is killing people?

"If she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married." Explains Triss as her expression changes to a thoughtful one, "The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the Brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature."

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations." Says Geralt, mind reeling with what this creature truly is.

"They can't be cured." You add as Triss' brows furrow, "A vukodlak is a type of mutated werewolf, its a beast that conceptualizes in the womb of a dead woman, this woman however must be pregnant. It's rare, but it happens."

"How strange, maybe if I take you to the creatures latest victim then you might have some understanding as to what it actually is."

"Worth a try."

Triss leads you and Geralt through the pre-burial section under the castle where all the dead lay awaiting their final home in the ground. The place reeks of death, spices to mask the dead smell, and too many salts and herbs doing their part to delay the decomposition process.

"Two thousand orens if either of you can tell me what exactly killed these people." Says Triss as all three of you scan over the cloaked bodies laying on wooden tables.

"You didn't want the people to know that it bested a Witcher. And you let them believe that he fled with their coin." Mutters Geralt.

"You two clearly weren't acquainted." At the end of the long cavernous room does she stop at a stone tub of white salt and sand, you can smell the dead man underneath. You walk past both of them before standing in front of the tub.

Taking a breath, you reach down to wipe away the white sand until the caved in chest of the fallen Witcher is revealed. You stick your hand inside the opened chest cavity to gather a mental image of what could be missing. You look over at a curious Geralt, "His hearts missing along with his liver."

"Only one creature I know is that picky an eater. A striga." Explains Geralt while you remove your wandering hand from within the broken rib cage to wipe it off on your pants. You then turn back around to face Triss and Geralt, noting how the mages face begins morphing into that of befuddlement.

"Strigas are old wives' tales." She replies, not completely sure of herself.

You shrug, "They're very rare as are the vukodlak, but they can happen. However the only way to make one is through a curse." You add, crimson eyes trailing over the mutilated body of the dark haired Witcher. So this is really what became of that other Witcher, better him then Geralt, nonetheless he fought bravely.

"Someone wanted Adda dead." Realizes Triss as Geralt hums in agreement.

"But the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster." Triss' head tilts in surprised puzzlement at your troubling knowledge.

"Her daughter?"

"Strigas are female. This striga's a princess." Concludes Geralt with a sigh, his gaze searching for your own perplexed expression as you turn around to face him and Triss who still looks rather disturbed.

"Well then, lets see if this king of yours is willing to let us help." You quip at Triss as you begin leading the way out of the large burial room. "Can't be that difficult now can it?"

——

"Miss Merigold, you were dispatched to settle a family affair, not to enlist a mutant mercenary and a rouge hybrid for a game of sleuthing." Argues one of the kings guardsmen as King Foltest hungrily rips apart a turkey leg, rather disgustingly if you're being honest. He even smells of meat and sweat.

"This is no game, Captain. Tonight is a full moon, Geralt and Y/N have already proved themselves to be invaluable. We believe we can cure the creature." Implores Triss urgently as she vouches for you, Geralt, and her pertinent point at hand. You just lean yourself against the rooms wallpaper as Geralt stands next to you, feeling a bit doubtful that she'll be able to convince any of them.

"You say she's a girl. Then you will refer to her as Her Royal Highness." Directs the kings guard before his other man, who instructed for you and Geralt to leave Temeria only yesterday, walks over to give his two cents.

"Segelin." He says introducing himself before continuing, "I believe urgency warrants flexibility in a court decorum. The Witcher's theory is nonsense. Princess Adda was the people's angel. Who'd wish to murder her?" Implores the man Segelin as his eyes wander over to you and then to Geralt, eyeing you both suspiciously.

"What about her lover?" You inquire, folding your arms over your leather armored chest.

"Seditious rumors. Idle courtesans trading out boredom for jealousy." Quickly replies the kings guardsman giving you a distasteful look.

"Perhaps if you'd call off your guards, if we were able to search the abandoned castle, we could find clues as to who cursed her." Explains Triss, attempting to convince the king. That's not a bad idea.

"Except, these two monster hunters would kill the princess as she sleeps, and collect the miners' coin." Argues Segelin as you simply roll your crimson eyes at the grey bearded man. What's got water up his breeches?

"Call her a princess. Call her a unicorn if you'd like to." Begins Geralt, "She grew inside Adda, feeding on her petrified womb."

"Have you no respect?!" Shouts the guardsmen defensively, the king just continues his gruesome assault on his turkey leg as he listens.

"Mutating. Growing for years till she got so hungry..." Geralt steps closer, the guardsmen laying a quick hand upon the hilt of his sheathed sword as Geralt continues unfazed, "she was forced to slither out. Rotten muscle, bent bones, two spidery legs, claws dragging in the dirt." You watch in satisfaction as the kings eyes flash with disgust. You've got him.

"An overgrown abortion." You add shrewdly, pushing yourself off of the wall as you walk next to the long table, the kings face cast down in deep thought as the other men throw you nasty glares.

"Enough." He snaps, setting down his half eaten leg of turkey.

"Your Highness?" Begins the loyal concerned guardsmen.

"Leave." Growls the king menacingly, his men nodding before making their way for the door, Triss, Geralt, and you following.

Opening up the door first, Geralt politely opens it, offering his hand for the others to follow out, you giving him a wink as you tail the guardsmen who's last to leave. As soon as you reach the doors entrance you quickly shove the guardsmen into the hallway before Geralt quickly shuts the doors on all of them, making sure to lock it as they shout their angry protests.

You listen to the pounding on the wood as you calmly walk past Geralt to the right side of the long table, leaning your hand onto the clothed wood as he casually rests an arm over a great oaken chair, opposite of the king.

"Who's the princess' father?" Immediately asks Geralt with a curious tilt of his head, the king glaring bitterly.

"My men will kill you two, bastards." He warns darkly, Geralt pulls his arm away from the chair to slowly approach him, you standing your ground while he walks past you.

Eyeing up the plump king, you slowly drag your fingers over the wood while taking small steps closer, "Your threats don't shake me, but it's funny...you learn your sister was murdered, and you didn't even flinch." Your sly remark has the king's eyes staring daggers at his roast turkey, while Geralt hums in agreement, walking himself towards a window before turning around to lean himself on a wooden cabinet as he faces the king.

"But the moment I mention the girl's father.." King Foltest purses his lips together, his eyes downcast onto the floor, "Why were you never married?" Questions Geralt smoothly, the king lets out a sigh as he leans back into his chair.

"You are speaking to a king." He proclaims with no heat is in his words, other then something else that he seems to be hiding from you both.

"That's exactly my point. Why not produce your own heir? Why not kill the striga and avoid this revolt? Why drag this all out?" Suggests Geralt, his brows furrowing together at the strange reason for everything that's happened. You walk over closer to the king, his beady eyes following you the whole time, you've already figured out the possible truth. And why must it be so disgusting too?

Raising an eyebrow, you reveal a small smirk to the glaring king, "Between the three of us, and I would dare not tell...who is the striga's father?" King Foltest appears to want to say something, almost willing to answer your question. But instead he looks to the window as he slowly rises from his seat, bringing his gaze back over to Geralt.

"I remember hearing stories about Witcher's when I was a child." He says, voice low and gravely while eying up Geralt, turning his sullen gaze upon you now, "And that of dhampirs. Is it true what they say? That you're neither living nor dead, unkillable but for silver?" Sneers the sweaty king, anger emitting from his every word, "That the mutations that grant Witcher's their...abilities. Also erase your emotions? Must be." He criticizes sharply eyeing the two of you with hate, "Cause only a person devoid of all heart could accuse a brother of bedding his murdered sister while urging him to kill her." Suddenly the doors burst open, a small handful of yelling guards racing in with their weapons bared, you don't even flinch as a second later the king throws a hand into the air, silently commanding them to halt.

He turns to you then back to Geralt, "Leave Temeria. Never return." His command is noted as Geralt gives him a nod before turning to walk out the door. You follow suit and smile at a nervous guard who looks like he might have just shit himself. The both of you silently walk out of the castle, deciding to make a new plan of attack.

——

Crouching on the roof of the abandoned castle as the wind and snow blows past your face, you slowly crawl closer to the front gates. Where two incredibly anxious guards converse about how much longer their post is until they may leave. Quietly you pull out a loose piece of the castles roofing, before chucking it into the direction of a crow where the bird and the ceiling make a loud rackety noise as they take off elsewhere. To your utter satisfaction the two nervous guards yell and book it down the cobblestone pathway and away from the castle.

Well that was easy enough.

Pleased with your harmless mischievousness, you decide to find your own way into the castle while Geralt takes the front entrance. You find a broken rotting part in the roofs wooden beamed structure where you then purposefully slip through, falling down to the floor, catching yourself at the very last moment as you levitate your body the rest of the way for a silent and painless landing.

The castle smells of mystery and dead rats as you walk quietly throughout the gloomy thing, suddenly your ears pricking to the sounds of Geralt and Triss rummaging around in someone's room down the hall. With a smirk upon your lips you stalk closer, listening to them speak about letters from Adda's mother as they both begin walking for the door.

As soon as you catch sight of Triss' oblivious face do you finally make yourself known, turning your skin the color of bluish pale grey, the whites of your eyes turning to black as your scarlet irises practically glow red. You hiss, baring your pearly white fangs, her face contorts into pure dreadful fear as she lets out a surprised scream. Geralt suddenly rushing to her side, his magic at the ready before his concerned face slackens to throw you an amused glare.

Cackling you turn back into your more presentable self, "You two find anything?" You wheeze as Triss gathers her bearings.

Breathing heavily she practically stares daggers at you, "Oh yes, just a fucking heart attack!" She breathlessly retorts, throwing you a harsh glare as Geralt walks past her. The corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk as he catches your entertained gaze, you smiling back at him like a fool in love.

"You're an ass." She mutters, shaking her head at you while she follows Geralt down the dreary shadowed hallway. An enthralled grin upon your beaming features as you tail behind them.

——

Once back inside Triss' lair of sorts within the castle walls, unbeknownst to King Foltest, the three of you let Segelin in on what they found in the ruined castle. He stands, eyes cast onto the letters, "A Queen Mother cursing her own children for their affair." He plops the old papers onto a table, "This could destroy the throne." He says dismally while leaning, both hands pressed to the wooden table.

"Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child." Says Geralt, concluding all that appears to be written down in those letters between Adda and her Queen Mother.

"It seems she refused. Repeatedly." Adds Triss while you all stare at the back of the man.

Segelin sighs, "And now she's taken that curse with her to the grave."

Triss clasps her hands together, "You've served the family for decades. Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?"

He turns to look at her, "No. Of course not." His expression reveals no faults, yet you feel something is not right here. He's not nearly surprised enough about all of this.

Touching a dangling green plant that hangs out over a wooden cupboard, you raise a brow at him, "What was your relationship to Adda?"

He rests his hands casually against the long desk behind him, "Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant." He smiles, "And a protector, even. We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve."

"She ever mention her brother?" Asks Geralt from his place by the wall, a foot or so away from you and Triss' plants.

Segelin looks down at the letters, "Certainly not like this."

"She was ashamed." Says Triss as Segelin turns to face her.

"Or she was frightened. What if the relationship was not.." He pauses a moment like he can't even bring himself to say it, his eyes trail over the three of you, "..consensual?"

Geralt hums in thought at this indeed interesting bout of information, he looks to Segelin, "You think he raped Adda, then cursed the child to cover it up?"

"Well, kings have done more for less."

Geralt's eyes fall elsewhere, "True." He mutters as you mull over everything previously said. This doesn't sit right with you at all.

You take a step away from the plants, "There's only one wrinkle, though." Both Triss and Geralt watch as you stand almost threateningly in front of Segelin, they have not a clue what you're doing. The greying man eyes you nervously, you narrow your eyes at him, "Your scent was on her sheets."

Triss takes a step foreward, "Y/N?"

Your crimson eyes never leave him once, "Old ones...and new ones."

He leans away from you, "What would I be doing in a dead girl's bed?" He accuses, face shifted into a repulsed grimace. You lean in closer so that your mouth remains mere inches from his ear, he's visibly uncomfortable.

"I smelt what you were doing."

You move backwards to stand in from of the conflicted man, he says not a single word as you patiently wait for him to break. The moment lasts a couple seconds more, you can hear how loud his heart is pounding within his chest. His lip quivers, breathing increasing with anxiousness, "Foltest had no right!" Shouts the angered man while you scowl and step away, "He seduced Adda! Abused his position. He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging! But he didn't love her....I did."

"You cursed the woman you loved?" Denounces Triss like a disappointed mother.

Segelin shakes his head, "I cursed Foltest, not her."

"Countless are dead because of your jealousy."

"Countless are dead because of Foltest!" Protests Segelin, "He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill this striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag your finger in my face."

"If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair." Counters Triss while the three of you stare down the heated man.

"And hurt Adda?" He says softly, "Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I'm alive to protect it." Geralt glances from you to him.

"Tell us how to lift the curse."

Segelin pauses a moment before looking defiantly up at your Witcher, "No. Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me." Geralt hums in response.

Fed up with his excuses you walk up to him, he slightly cowers back before keeping straight again, a snobby expression upon his greying features before you crack him across the temple. Sending him falling to the ground in an instant as he plunges into unconsciousness.

"Y/N." You turn to face Triss.

"What? You were all thinking it."

——

Waiting atop the crumbling castle roof where this striga is soon to be, you watch from above as Geralt and King Foltest speak about how you and him will handle the princess. He gives the king Renfri's brooch as a gift for the princess incase Geralt does not live to see the light of day. You watch the king and his men finally leave, letting Geralt enter the dying castle as he looks up towards the roof for a second before turning his gaze for the wooden doors.

Taking the same route as earlier in the day, you soon find yourself in Adda's room. Segelin tied pathetically to the wooden beams of the dead princess' bed as your unwilling captive. Geralt brooding by the window as he thinks of what to do next, none of you truly having a solid clue as to what should be done about this royal striga. You watch when the greying man glares at you, blood smeared across his lips from your abrupt assault not even an hour ago.

"The both of you! This is madness!" He cries angrily, tugging at his cloth restraints, "What are we doing here? What's happening?" He wonders while searching desperately around the room for a nonexistent answer.

"How can we lift the curse." Mutters Geralt, his leather armored back to you and Segelin.

Segelin shakes his head, "No! This is not right. Foltest must pay for what he did." Whines Segelin once more, you simply fold your arms in irritation as the man looks to you for a sign that you care, which you most defiantly don't.

Rolling your eyes, you scowl at him, "You're already too blind to even comprehend your own faults. This is what you get for your childish actions." You mutter bitterly as he glares hopelessly at you, frustration clearly evident on his dirty face.

"Carry me out. I order you." Demands Segelin as Geralt turns around to face the desperate man. "Tell us how to lift the curse." He orders, Segelin huffs in frustration, avoiding Geralt's intimidating gaze.

In a blur of black and grey your hand is suddenly around his neck as his eyes go wide in stunned alarm, your squeeze isn't enough to choke him, but you're hopeful it's enough to change his mind. "I'd advise you to listen well, your life is already standing on the edge of a knife." You hiss maliciously in his ear before releasing him, he lets out a dramatic gasp as his wide eyes follow your every movement.

He turns his attention from you to Geralt as his mouth opens to finally answer, "Sh-She was hiding from the Brotherhood. She sold me a lamb....Sh-She told me to wait until a full moon, to wait and then to kill it." He stammers, Geralt crouching down to meet his eye level, "And then I recited some silly chant. And then I bathed in the lamb's blood until sunrise. Until the rooster crowed three times. And that is all. I swear. I swear. Now please let us leave." Begs Segelin desperately as he fruitlessly pulls against his constraints, your face falling into a frown, understanding immediately what this idiot has done.

"What was the chant?" Wonders Geralt, his brows furrowing in thought while he stares daggers at Segelin who looks down in frustration.

"Uh..It was years ago." Protests Segelin as he tries to think up the chant, "It was Elven. Um..." Suddenly he begins reciting an Elven curse, your eyes going wide in realization as Geralt shares a quick wary glance with you before racing over to his bag of potions, earning a confused expression from the bound man.

"Wh-what is it? The..I...I've done what's been asked. What more can I do?" He wonders in blissful ignorance as you let out a pissed off huff of air.

"You've done more than enough you perverted fool, unless you can keep a fucking striga out of her crypt until a fucking rooster crows three times." You snap while unsheathing your dagger, his face falling in frightened understanding as Geralt fumbles around with his potions, trying to find the right one to take before the action starts.

Segelin's eyes go downcast, his whole aurora turning to pure dread, "You're gonna have to fight it till dawn." He murmurs softly, staring at the far wall as Geralt downs a potion, his eyeballs turning into two pools of inky darkness. You turn, hastily walking for the door as Geralt quickly follows behind you.

"No. No. Come back here! Please. Please! You'd leave a man bound to die in such indignity?" He cries desperately, pulling on his restraints but to no avail.

"You're not a man." Growls Geralt as he takes his place by your side, the two of you walking down the dreary hallway as the snow falls lightly from outside the nearby broken windows, you catching the scent of the beast on the cool night air.

"Remember not to kill the princess, Y/N" Implores your Witcher with a smirk, you simply roll your eyes.

"We'll see if you can last till dawn my love, I don't doubt it." You retort, a suggestive tone hidden in your voice that's most definitely caught by Geralt.

The hallway breaks off into another section of the abandoned castle, you giving him a nod before turning in that direction, deciding it best to take on the royal beast from two sides if he gets caught up in some trouble. You silently walk down the dusty corridor past rotting wood and broken glass, cracked pieces of stone and the occasional human bones.

The enthralling shriek of the striga bellows throughout the castle walls, it's high pitched scratchy scream sounding like a knife that's stabbed you in the ears. Without another thought you race down the entrance-way towards the sounds of a great messy struggle, the princess has found Geralt, and she doesn't seem too pleased.

Turning round another stony corner, you halt dead in your tracks as your scarlet eyes zero in on the striga who's completely manhandling your Witcher, throwing him this way and that, deflecting every punch he's throwing at her. He suddenly rips a lamp from the wall and uses it to crack her across the side of her grotesque wrinkly head. She stumbles back at the violent impact, pain running throughout her body before she quickly recovers, hurling him backwards with a fiercely strong blow.

As Geralt falls onto his back you swiftly race down the hallway as the striga climbs on top of his armored body. She doesn't hear you coming, or when you electrocute her without warning, sending her flying into the nearby wall as she screeches in pain. You stop to help Geralt up, your right hand crackling with energy as he stands and glances down at the light emitting from it, then over to the pissed off princess. Who almost immediately recovers from her abrupt assault, she stands, her umbilical cord dragging as she stalks over towards the two of you.

In an instant she charges, a piercing scream sending your ears into agony at the frantic noise as Geralt lunges for her, grabbing her shoulders as he throws her against the brick wall.

For the next couple hours would you and Geralt take turns beating on the striga, down this hallway and that, into doors and wooden walls, crashing into cabinets and breaking more cracked windows through the struggle. Every fucking time she would recover and throw it back at you ten fold, like nothing had even happened in the first place.

Racing across the hall to Geralt's aid, you electrocute the royal beast just before she's about to bite into his exposed jugular, she falls back as you get closer, preparing to hopefully knock her ugly face unconscious for a while. You're slowly getting more and more fatigued with every couple minutes that fly by, this fucking striga giving you a real run for your money. No matter how much stamina you have.

But as you get within a few feet from her, she whips around, slashing you across the face with her razor sharp claws. Sending you flying into the wall as a hot stream of blood pours out of your freshly opened wounds. Dazed, you try and raise yourself from the ground and watch as Geralt gets pinned down by the striga once again. You blink back your blurry vision, painfully raising your hand as lightning brightly emits from your opened palm and fingertips just as Geralt uses his magic to break the stone flooring from right out under him.

Himself and the striga immediately falling through the broken floor and straight to the crypts below. Rising to your feet, you can feel as your facial wounds begin to fuse the skin back together again, your injury a thing of the past except for the strips of blood that mark it's path.

You hastily limp over to the hole in the ground, looking down to find Geralt laying in the rubble before slowly getting up. Without another thought, you jump down, landing hard on a pile of rocks as the unconscious striga lays motionless next to you. Pulling yourself up from the wreckage, you tiredly shuffle over to the center of the room as Geralt puts an enchantment onto the doorways so that the creature cannot escape.

"I don't know about you but I could think of ten different ways we could have spent tonight." You jest, breathing heavily as you hold onto your aching side, Geralt hums in reply before turning around and freezing, his face morphing into wariness as he gives you a concerned look. You turn around to see what's bothering him, only to find absolutely nothing, which is most definitely the problem.

"Oh fuck." You whisper as Geralt cautiously walks over to you, the both of you looking around the room as you stand back to back.

You hear a dull rapid thudding of a heartbeat before suddenly the striga jumps down from the crumbling ceiling to pounce at Geralt, she lands, whipping her hand across your chest as she picks him up, throwing him into the nearby stone pillar. You stumble back at the abrupt impact, watching as Geralt gets his ass beat by the pissed off striga, it throws him into another pillar, quickly turning around to race for the open doorway. But before it can get through, the white force field knocks her back, she snaps around once more shrieking in rage, bolting on all fours towards Geralt.

You pull your bruised and tired body onto your feet, reaching your hands out to send volts of hot white lightning into the vessel of the striga, sending her into a cruel stone pillar as she screeches in misery. When you look to your left a beautiful streak of orange sunrise emits from an opened spot in the roof, you breath heavily as the striga and Geralt take notice of the sunlight. Your eyes go wide as the creature races for the safety of her dirty crypt, you trailing behind her as Geralt jumps to his feet to follow.

Your boots pound against the gravely stone of the abandoned crypts as you valiantly throw yourself onto the furious princess while she attempts to launch herself into her resting place, she falls into the wall as your hands smack onto the cracked floor.

"Get in the fucking crypt!" You scream at Geralt as he makes a mad dash for the opened tomb, heeding to your rushed words without a second thought.

You watch as he falls into the stony coffin and shutting it just as the striga launches herself onto the thing, her cries and horrid wails sounding noisily throughout the large drafty room. Picking up a fist sized rock you chuck it at her, cracking her perfectly across the back of her grotesque head.

"Your royal pain-in-the-ass, come and get me." You taunt, lightning crackling from your fingertips as the angry princess snaps her attention to you.

She jumps down and immediately pummels you into the rocks as you send harrowing sparks of electricity into her body that thankfully throws her backwards, your vision going blurry once again. Gods your head hurts. Dark spots cloud your sight as you rest on the rocks in exhaustion, your side most definitely hurting as your eyes flutter closed.

You awaken to the sounds of Geralt as he opens up the tomb and steps out to walk over towards the princess, a concerned and astonished expression crossing over his dirty features. Pushing some ruble from your legs you finally stand and slowly walk down the small stairway as Geralt leans down to see if the princess is actually okay, considering her naked mud covered self is facing away from you both.

You can hear as her heartbeat picks up in pace, but before you're able to warn him, the princess turns around and in a confused rage pins him to the ground just as she sinks her teeth into the side of his neck. She falls back in fear as Geralt's pained gaze finds your own bloody face while you race to his side. Your eyes going wide as he lays upon the stony ground, blood seeping out from his mouth and ripped neck as you try and put pressure on it.

Tears slowly begin building up in your shimmering irises, "No. No. No...Geralt, look at me...look at me." You desperately plea as his golden eyes try and stay open for you, but he's slipping as more blood spurts out from his wounds, "Don't you fucking leave me you prick, not now of all times, or places. Geralt!" You cry as his eyelids flutter shut, his breathing slowing down as you try and cover his bleeding neck the best you can, not sure what to do. If you leave and try to get help he'll bleed to death, but if you stay then his chances are less grim but still uncertain.

Your mind swirls with what's the best course of action when suddenly you hear the rushed steps of Triss coming to your aid, and just in the nick of time.

——

Leaning yourself into the welcoming comfort of Triss' plush lounge chair, you watch as she mixes some more healing ingredients into a marble bowl at her work counter. You touch the side of your torso where a white linen wrap tightly hugs around your aching side where you fell on Geralt's silver sword. It throbs under your soft touch, but due to your immaculate healing capabilities your wounds will not bother you in a couple days time.

Turning your head lazily to the right to find a sleeping Geralt laying on the bed, recovering from his own injuries, you idly smile at his peaceful yet considerably less dirty form. Suddenly his eyes fly open, a puzzled expression upon his handsome features as Triss calmly turns around.

She smiles fondly at him, "Your scars. You heal quite nicely, if not for Y/N's blood you would most certainly be dead." She concludes knowingly as Geralt gives her a confused look, "She dropped some of her blood into your wounds to speed up the healing process. It was more effective then I had first realized." He turns to face you, a relieved sigh escaping from his parted lips.

You smile back at him, "Don't worry about the princess, she'll be fine, Triss has arranged for her to stay with the Sisters of Melitele." You chime in with a shrug, "Also she had her first bath."

"You should know Foltest issued a statement. The honorable Lord Ostrit gave his life to slay the vukodlak. Miners are gathering ore for a statue." Adds Triss with a grin as Geralt attempts to get up, "Anyone else would've killed the princess. You both chose not to." She finishes as Geralt painfully rises into a sitting position, a grimace upon his sweaty face.

"We'll take our coin now. I need to get back to my horse." Grunts your eager Witcher as he sits on the side of the bed, pressing his hand against his wrapped torso. Triss only grins in reply, walking over to hand him the leather sack of coins. He quickly takes it with a nod, Triss turning to flash you a knowing smile before excusing herself from the area.

Turning to Geralt with a frown, you search for his eyes as they glance around the room before landing on you, "Lay down you idiot, I watched you bleed out and go as pale as a ghost." You lightly argue, he sets the coins onto the makeshift bed as he finds your frowning gaze once more, "If I hadn't been there to give you some of my blood...fuck...you'd be dead. So don't you dare try and get up or I'll give you a reason to be in pain."

His stern face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin, "I'd rather not face your wrath my dear, although I wouldn't mind a couple more hours here if you decide to lay next to me." He suggests with pleading eyes, ones that know exactly how to win you over.

Leaning into the soft back of your seat, you cross your arms over your chest, "You're sweating, honestly still smell a bit, and your sheets are stained with blood..." You add with an inquiring raise of your brow, "How could I ever say no to such an alluring offer?" He breaks out into a beaming smile at your humored words, his heart just about fluttering in his muscular chest as you suddenly rise to your feet, walking over to him before crawling over to his other side near the wall. You turn to face him, a hand propped up against your head while you watch him lay down once again. His back touches the mattress as he turns his head to face you, a blissful smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Yes. That's the face right there, the suave steely golden eyes that I've fallen in love with. No matter how beat up you get...you still make me feel things."

"What kind of things, hmm?" He wonders with a lazy smirk as he watches your face break out into a small smile.

Trailing your delicate touch over his old scars, you look over to him with tired eyes, "Things I wouldn't even dare share with the very stars in the sky, nor the moon herself. And I tell her everything." You muse before leaning over to kiss his exposed shoulder. You listen as he hums in delight while you scoot yourself close enough that your whole body is flush against his, "Just sleep for now, love. You've had quite the rough night...and that's putting it lightly. I honestly thought for a moment that...that uh...I might have lost you." He searches for your hand, holding it tightly as a small way to comfort you while he locks eyes with your own downcast ones.

"I wouldn't dare think of ever leaving you alone in this world, not for a second. Y/N you mean more to me then all the coins and jewels combined, more then...uh..."

Laughing you shift your face to gently kiss his bare shoulder before looking up at him once again, "Geralt, there's not a lot of things that you love. That's honestly some short list you've got there...but it matters not, I'm your favorite person in the world and that's all I need to know."

He smiles adoringly at your closing eyes, sleep tenderly calling to you by the second as you hug him closer. He stays silent, wanting to listen to the calming thumps of your relaxed heart beat as your mind drifts into slumber. Closing his own tired eyes, he finally lets sleep take him into darkness where no monsters of any kind wait to hurt him. He's safe in your arms as you're safe in his, the two of you blissfully enjoying one another's company after a taxing hunt.

-

Tagged: @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

#the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #Of monsters and men fic

[howdoyousleep3]

Today's self care story is:

The rising sun found Steve alone in his bed. That, in and of itself, wasn't all that strange, seeing as he lived alone on his ranch; even his workers preferred to commute from town.

But this morning, waking up alone confused and slightly upset the man, since last night when he went to bed, he very much wasn't.

He and Bucky had wiled away some very pleasant hours in this very bed, after sharing an amazing dinner that Bucky had created with produce fresh from his garden, homemade pasta, and some very potent strawberry wine.

Needless to say, Steve was not expecting a cold bed, and it hurt.

But he'd have to wait to get answers; a rancher's work is never done, and he had a lot to do before the sun got too high to do it.

-

A shower and two cups of coffee got him out the door of not in better spirits, at least more awake. He angled his hat to block the glare of the climbing sun, and he knew he was setting up for a truly foul mood when he wasn't even able to appreciate the sunrise like normal.

He turned his boots towards the stables, getting prepares to wrestle Tina into the stocks so he could milk her before the first of his workers arrived, when a flash of color from the paddock caught his eye.

The sight in front of him made his blood run cold while simultaneously breaking him out in sweat:

There was Bucky, petting and cooing at Cane, Steve’s latest rescue horse.

Cane was massive, with Clydesdale not far back in his lineage, and came to Steve nearly feral from the abuse he suffered before being rescued. Honestly, Steve had been losing hope at rehabilitating the animal, who would kick and bite and scream at anyone and anything that came into his line of vision.

And Bucky, Steve saw as he made his--very SLOW, very CALM--way to the paddock, was singing softly and braiding flowers into his mane.

"You better not be here to yell at me, Steve," Bucky said, not altering the quality of his voice when Steve got close. "Poor sweetheart is almost deaf in this left ear, and I don't need him spooking."

"Bucky," Steve's voice was straining with the struggle of sounding calm and soothing, "I need you to get away from Cane, darlin'. He's had a really rough time of it, and could really, really hurt you."

"I am fully aware that this baby has been through hell, rancher-man," Bucky’s words sounded sweet, but the look he shot Steve could curdle milk. "I don't appreciate the patronizing tone you've got going on, and you can go cool your head after you bring me a brush, a comb, and a hoof care kit."

"Buck..."

"Now, Steve. Leave them in my bag over on the gate. Grab my cologne bar and use it while you're over there. Cane doesn't like your shampoo. Or maybe your detergent. He hates your smell, anyways. Chop-chop. I'm running out of flowers."

Steve couldn't do anything but obey.

Nor could he do anything but watch from a distance, chewing his nails and wishing he hadn't quit smoking as Bucky pampered and pet the beast the Steve was almost sure he'd have to destroy. He messaged all his workers and told them to take the back pasture road to the house, so the sound and smell of the cars wouldn't spook Cane while Bucky had a massive hoof tucked between his knees.

It seemed to take forever, but Bucky finally waved Steve back over to the paddock, grabbing his hand as he climbed through the fence.

"Alright, sweetness," Bucky was still speaking to the horse, but Steve couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through his thighs as he remembered that pet name cooed at him last night, "you know Steve, and you know he's only trying to help you. He loves you just as much as I do, and he's gonna stop smelling like the ones that hurt you. I promise that he's one of the best men in the world and he's never gonna raise his hand against you. If you trust me, babylove, you can trust him. Okay?"

Now, Steve knew that horses are smart. Like, really smart and sensitive and empathic as fuck. But not even he was prepared for what happened.

Cane lowered his heavy head and locked eyes with Bucky for what seemed like an eternity, then nuzzled so, so gently against his chest, making the man rock back slightly, and staring at Steve. Once again, it seemed like an eternity, but Steve remained calm and tried to project all of his worry and devotion to making Cane better into his gaze.

And with a final, long suffering sigh, Cane shifted his head and pressed it to Steve's chest, trembling with residual fear, nostrils flaring, but remaining still.

"Holy Christ," Steve whispered.

"Well go on," Bucky chided. "Give him a scritch. Mind the left ear, though."

And so they stood, long after the sun rose high, petting and scritching this poor, ravaged animal, whispering and cooing and praising him for being so, so brave until Cane fianlly huffed and wandered towards the food and water troughs.

Steve refused to let go of Bucky’s hand as he dragged him back to the house.

"I was going to get some eggs from the coop for breakfast," Bucky explained as Steve pulled him back to the bedroom and shoved him on the bed. "When I saw him, he was crying, and I just couldn't stand it."

"You are so fucking beautiful," Steve growled as he tore at the front of Bucky’s jeans, his knees thudding against the floor. "A goddamned angel. Nearly gave me a heart attack, seeing you with Cane. But the way he responded to you...fuck!" The rest of his words were lost as he swallowed Bucky to the hilt, making the other man moan loud enough to echo through the house.

None of Steve's chores got done. Not that he gave a fuck.

This is the absolute best thing I could have read on this Self Care Sunday. My heart is aflutter, my eyes are all weepy. I’m in love with Rancher Steve and his infatuation for sweet ‘ol patient loving Cottage Buck. Strawberry wine, horse hair braiding, rancher-man, babylove, Steve shivering at sweetness. I’m gonna float through this fucking self care day. I adore you. Thank yooouuu.

[impalementation]

if you're interested, i'd love to hear your thoughts on That scene in empty places, bc the way that i've seen most people talk about it doesn't always feel very nuanced and like... i get being frustrated and i for sure think some extremely unfair things to/about buffy were said, but i don't think it's as cut and dry as buffy being totally blameless (even though i love her) and everyone else (particularly the main scoobies, who don't have her responsibilities but have fought alongside her and earned the right to disagree w her imo) being terrible. Like it may have gone too far?? But idk, I have trouble articulating why, but I think there's more nuance to the situation than people want to say, so I'm curious about your thoughts

Anonymous asked:

whats your take on empty places and the scoobs kicking buffy out of her house?

Anonymous asked:

Why did Buffy allowed Dawn to kick her out in Empty Places?

Wow, so many questions about “Empty Places”! Sorry, as ever, that these took me a while to get to.

I actually agree, I think there’s more nuance there than it’s given credit for. I talked about that a bit in this post a while back. I wouldn’t say that the character build-up to that scene is as well-executed as it could have been, but it hardly comes out of nowhere, and it’s not some random thing. Or, as I’ve seen people suggest, simply there to make Spike look good and push him and Buffy together. I’m sure their romantic arc was a factor in the storytelling, but to call that the only motivation seems to me a vast oversimplification and dismissal of ideas that were built over the course of the season.

Season seven is, as I’ve discussed before, about how the Slayer system is broken. It’s a system that isolates Buffy and puts all of the decision-making in her hands. Meaning that it’s a system that is neither good for her, nor good for anyone around her, no matter how strong and brave Buffy is. All season long, we see Buffy struggle with both the limits of her power, and the demands of her authority. She wants to be able to save every girl, and fight every ubervamp, but she simply can’t be everywhere and stronger than everything. She wants to be a caring friend, but when she’s the one who has to make decisions about whether people should live or die, she can’t always be. When she’s the one who has to make all the hard choices, that means the blame always falls on her shoulders. When she fucks up, there’s nothing for her to fall back on. The fact that Buffy is forced to be this kind of sole authority means that the people around her are right to feel that they aren’t being listened to, or fully considered. Because often they aren’t. They see the people around them getting maimed and killed and suddenly realize that maybe it isn’t right that all their eggs should be in Buffy’s basket. But at the same time, they’re wrong, because they’re the ones who put their eggs there. They’re the ones who kept looking the other way as Buffy made hard choice after hard choice on their behalf. They’re as complicit in (and victimized by) the broken system as Buffy is.

Keep in mind the season’s perception themes. Everyone gets mad at Buffy, and Buffy gets mad at herself, because they’re all too close to the situation to see that the problem isn’t really Buffy, it’s what being the Slayer has forced Buffy to be. The dynamic it’s forced between her and the people around her. Notice how in the very next episode, Faith finds herself dealing with the exact same problems that Buffy was. The same hard decisions, and the same ambient resentments. It’s actually very important that Faith has to be a leader for a bit, in order to show this--the fact that the problem is being the Slayer, not Buffy. I’d even argue that it’s the much more thematically relevant motivation for the scene than getting Buffy and Spike alone.

As far as thematic motivations go, I also think it’s crucial that Buffy is thrown out of her house. That is some powerful symbolism for a season that leans so hard into the symbolism of Buffy’s house in general, and it’s disappointing to see people ignore it in their eagerness to be mad at everyone. The house is a lot of things—the familiar, the stable, the normative, the safe—but most importantly it’s also Buffy’s self. Notice how Spike and Faith, both Buffy’s shadow at different times, hang out in Buffy’s basement: the realm of the id and subconscious. Notice how as the house breaks down, Buffy gets injured as well.

So for Buffy to be thrown out of her house, it’s the climax of the season’s isolation themes not just in terms of story, but also metaphor. She has literally been cast out of herself. She’s been banished from her identity and role. But at the same time, once she’s on the outside of that myopic, claustrophobic system, she is able to connect with her shadow (Spike) and see the situation with new eyes. The reason that Spike is the one who can talk Buffy back is that firstly, unlike the Scoobies, his later seasons arc is all about learning to not ask Buffy for things that aren’t appropriate--romantic reciprocation, moral structure. Secondly, he was once the tool and symbol of her isolation, the icon of her shame and guilt and belief that she needed to isolate herself. For her to make peace with Spike is about her rejecting that isolation and shame, and transforming it.

Of course, I can talk about symbolism all I want and it doesn’t necessarily matter if the writers didn’t make it believable on the object level too—the level of character and plot and all of that. It’s a regular problem on Buffy, the writing caring more about symbolism than sense. While I think that most of the characters have adequate motivation for the scene—really, it’s been building from the beginning; remember the confrontation between Buffy and Xander as early as “Selfless”? or Buffy fighting with Giles and Wood two episodes earlier? or the way she argued with everyone in “Get It Done”? or the Potentials doubting her from basically their first episodes?—the one character that seems truly undeveloped is Dawn. She got that warning from the First in “Conversations With Dead People”, but the season doesn’t follow up on it well enough to draw a clear line between that seed of doubt and her attitude in “Empty Places.” Given that Dawn is Buffy’s “humanity” or “youth” or what have you, it’s symbolically significant that she would be the final one to cast Buffy out. But that seems like a clear case of the story not earning its metaphor, unfortunately.

To answer the third ask: as far as why Buffy let Dawn kick her out, on a character level I think she was pretty defeated by that point. But symbolically, I think the part about Buffy’s human self rejecting her is important for that. Buffy has a tenuous relationship to her belief in her humanity at the best of times, so it’s pretty easy for me to believe that she would feel lost and numbed enough by being rejected by that part of herself, that she wouldn’t fight it.

(Controversial opinion, but I actually kind of like that “Empty Places” isn’t due to the First sowing obvious discord. I’ve seen lots of people suggest that that would have been the stronger and more believable choice, and I get the instinct. But if the point of the season is to show that the villain is the Slayer system, then it makes more sense for that to be the thing that drives the conflict, and not an external force influencing them. There might have been a way to use the First that was compatible with that, but it wouldn’t have worked if the problem was just The First. Imo, of course.)

All of which is to say, that if you see the season as being about faulty perception, broken systems, and the dangers of isolation, then “Empty Places” actually makes perfect sense as a climax of the season. The problem really comes down to whether you think it was earned enough (which in some cases I think it was, and in others it wasn’t), or generally handled well, and whether you think those ideas are interesting in the first place.

#s7 #askbox still closed for now but i'm working my way through the backlog!

[deansmom]

You know those tiktoks that are like “what your favorite mcu character says about you” or “what you need to hear if this is your favorite MCU character”? Here’s a better one:

If your favorite MCU character is:

Bucky Barnes: [what you need to hear]

your past does not define you. no matter what it is you did or didn’t do, no matter how traumatic it was - you are more than that. that’s just a small part of you.

It’s okay to make peace with the parts of yourself that you don’t like or are ashamed of. It’s all part of you, for better or worse, and the sooner you forgive yourself for it and embrace that part of you, the easier it will be to move forward.

You’re a better person and worth more than your abuser could ever be. Your mistakes or actions in your past don’t make you a bad person. You’re trying to grow, to learn, to become a better version of yourself and that’s amazing.

You are a good person. Full stop. You are a good person who is deserving of love. I know it’s scary and maybe you feel like you don’t deserve to be happy, or like you’re not good enough for the person you’re interested in, but guess what? That voice in your head is wrong.

It wasn’t your fault. Your trauma wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing that you could have done differently to prevent it, okay? It wasn’t your fault. You made it out the other side - you won.

You are not atlas. You do not have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders - but if you insist on it, it’s okay to ask for help carrying it. The people who love and care about you are there to help.

Bucky Barnes: [what it says about you]

You’ve probably always naturally been an empathetic person and a caretaker, but you probably also took on a lot of responsibility at a young age.

You’re a little bit resentful about the responsibility you had as a kid and you struggle with those feelings re: your parents. (It’s okay to be angry or hurt or upset about that by the way because it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t your job and you shouldn’t have had to handle all of that. You can love people who love you, while also acknowledging that they didn’t always treat you fairly or appropriately.)

You’re probably a relatively anxious person, or grew up neurodivergent and/or queer in a place where you didn’t feel safe coming out. You probably also struggled with some internalized homophobia for a while. And yes, these things do cause trauma, if nobody’s told you yet. If you’re like me: you don’t remember large chunks of your life and that’s okay. They’re still there waiting for you, whenever you’re ready to look for them.

You probably had a rebellious phase at one point or were reckless or just experienced some general trauma, and have a lot of shame surrounding that part of your life.

You’ve grown up having so many jobs and being so many different things to different people, that you’ve reached adulthood and realized you don’t really know who you are outside of your role as caretaker/best friend/older sibling/spare parent.

Now you’ve gotten control of your life back, or you’re trying to, and it’s scary. Figuring out who you are outside of all that is scary. You’re doing great! Just remember that healing is not linear and it’s okay to backslide sometimes.

Wanda Maximoff: [what you need to hear]

Hey buddy. Loss is hard and grief is weird and volatile and sometimes, it overpowers you and your rational thought. But that person who is driven by grief? That’s not really who you are. What matters more is what you do going forward.

You’re never truly alone, even when it might feel like it. Depression is very, very good at making us feel like there’s nobody else in the world who’s ever felt the way you’re feeling and guess what? That’s not true. I know it feels that way now, but I promise you there are people who love and care about you and are waiting and willing to talk when you’re ready.

You are not weak for seeking help. Asking for help is the strongest thing you can do. Talk therapy would probably make everything a little bit easier for you to carry.

Feeling like you’re the odd one out no matter where you go, like you’ll never fit in, like you’re dangerous? You’re not. I know that sounds like an empty promise, but speaking from experience everybody belongs somewhere. You’ll find your place and your people, I promise.

I’m so sorry for your loss. Your grief is valid. Your anger is valid. I see you, I love you, I support you and I know that you’re going to be okay even though it doesn’t feel like it right now.

Wanda Maximoff: [what it says about you]

You’re probably neurodivergent or queer and have always felt relatively ostracized from your peers and that frustrates you.

You’ve suffered a lot of loss in your life, and you probably haven’t dealt with most of the grief in your life. That’s okay, but you don’t have to be strong all the time. There are people who love you and who will help you carry that grief.

You didn’t have a stable parental figure in your life and the trauma of growing up too quickly or alone feels like it’s taken over your life.

You try to project a strong, confident image of yourself but you’re worried that people can see through it so sometimes you overcompensate by pushing others away.

You probably have untreated adhd to be honest and get frustrated with yourself easily for struggling to do supposedly easy tasks.

Loki: [what you need to hear]

It’s okay to love a parent who was abusive. Yes, they hurt you, but they’re still your parent and I know you feel weird and guilty about it, but that’s normal. There’s nothing wrong with you for feeling that way. Relationships, especially with abusive or neglectful loved ones in your life are hard. All of your feelings are valid, and still having some level of fond feelings for your abuser is normal. You’re not broken.

Your past actions do not define you and the people who genuinely care about you, who are worth keeping around, can see that you’re making a genuine effort to be or do better. They’ll love you no matter what, as long as you’re trying.

I know you don’t want to think about it, because you probably think it’s embarrassing, but listen: your past actions were deliberate and hurtful, and those people are owed a genuine apology, when you’re ready.

Identity is hard, especially when you’re adopted and your whole life apparently was kind of a lie - again, it’s okay to be angry about that. Your feelings are valid. It’s also more than okay to not want anything to do with those other people, that other part of your life. There is no right or wrong answer.

It’s okay to set boundaries with your parents and family. Standing up for yourself makes you brave, not selfish.

It’s never too late to become a better person.

You are loved. You are so, so loved - you just have to let people do it.

Loki: [what it says about you]

Probably had less than stellar parents, if not outright neglectful and emotionally manipulative. You struggle with that a lot.

Closeted in some way with some gender issues that either scare you too much to unpack, or you’ve fully embraced them and said fuck gender. Love that for you.

Chaotic and messy, maybe a little bit selfish but ultimately a good person at heart.

That being said, you put up a mean front and don’t like people to see the real you because you’re afraid that they’ll see what you see (hint: they won’t).

Didn’t get enough attention as a child, probably the middle or youngest, and your other sibling(s) are NT and annoyingly good at everything you aren’t.

#I want to do more of these but I’m about to pass out again lmao #personal

[darkverrmin]

The Best, Part I

"Geralt!"

Jaskier burst into the stables, with a worried look on his face. His fancy clothes were covered in dirt and mud, his lute swinging over his shoulder.

Geralt was sitting beside Roach, leaning against a pile of hay. The mare was lying on her stomach, her head leaning on the Witcher's shoulder. Geralt stopped scratching her behind the ear, giving Jaskier a confused look.

"Jaskier? What the fuck are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at your bard competition bullshit?"

Jaskier rolled his eyes fondly. "I was heading to my "bard competition bullshit". But then I heard a rumor on the road of a Witcher and his sick horse. Pressed for more details, figured out it was you, hurried back". Jaskier took a few steps closer to the pair, eyeing the mare carefully. "How is she?"

Geralt sighed, closing his eyes. "Not good". His jaw clenched as he spoke and his voice was strained. "They... They don't know how to treat her".

Jaskier crouched in front of them, gently petting Roach on the head. Geralt noticed that there were bags under Jaskier's eyes. Jaskier spoke quietly as he petted Roach. "My brave little girl. Do you enjoy making your Witcher worried sick? I know it's fun to annoy him, but I'm worried too, now. C'mon girl, what's the matter?"

Geralt gave him a small smile and a raised eyebrow. "You came back all the way from the south because of my sick horse?"

Jaskier rolled his eyes again. "She's not just your horse, Geralt. Roach and I have been through a lot together too, right girl?" He scratched her behind the ear and Roach closed her eyes.

"Besides". Jaskier gave Geralt a meaningful look. "I know she means a lot to you... So I thought it's best that I be here".

"I don't need pity". Geralt looked away.

Jaskier huffed. "I was thinking more of being a good friend, but call it what you want. Anyway, what did the healer say?"

Geralt fumbled with his fingers nervously. "He said it was some kind of flu. He gave her a medicine, but she only got worse. We tried a different treatment, but it didn't help".

"Uh-huh. And what now?"

Geralt shrugged, eyes blank. "He says he doesn't know how to treat her. I've been to another healer too, but he wasn't willing to try, after taking a look at her. She stopped eating". Geralt's voice broke off slightly and he gulped loudly, staring at the ground. Jaskier gave him a soft look, feeling the urge to hug the Witcher.

But he settled with a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"What about the king's healer?"

Geralt frowned. "What about him?"

"Did you try asking for his help?"

"What am I made of gold, bard? And let's say he would accept a Witcher, I still wouldn't have enough coin to pay him. Winter is almost here and there are no monsters bothering the cities".

"Right". Jaskier sighed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to Roach's heavy breathing. Jaskier occasionally glanced at Geralt, who was looking down at the mare with a blank stare. Jaskier felt really sorry for him.

Geralt's voice shook him out of his trance.

"Do you think I should put her out of her misery?"

Jaskier blinked at Geralt, staring at him with wide eyes. Geralt was still looking at Roach, his face tense.

Jaskier put a hand on Geralt's knee and squeezed lightly. "Geralt". He said softly.

"I couldn't even take care of my own fucking horse".

"It's not your fault, Geralt".

"I didn't take care of he-"

"You took great care of her, Geralt. I've never seen anyone worry about their horse the way you worry about Roach. And she knows it". Roach snorted lightly, approving Jaskier's words. Geralt huffed at her. He raised his head to look at Jaskier, who was still staring at him softly. Jaskier moved his hand to rub Geralt's shoulder.

"Wait here. I've got an idea".

Geralt tilted his head to the side, confused. "Not that I was planning on going anywhere, but what the fuck are you up to?"

Jaskier gave him a small smile. "You'll see. Just wait here with Roach". He got up on his feet and ran towards the door. "I'll be back in about an hour!"

"Jaskie-" The door shut behind the bard, before Geralt could finish his sentence.

The Witcher sighed and closed his eyes again. The mare bumped into him lightly with her head. "I know, Roach".

***

Jaskier came back after forty minutes. Accompanied by another man.

Geralt jumped on his feet, drawing his sword. Jaskier took a step closer, raising his hands in the air. "Geralt, it's fine. He's with me".

Geralt frowned. "Who the fuck are you?"

The other man was old, with a long, grey beard and he wore a bright, orange robe. He gave Geralt an unimpressed look. "I am Neros, the king's healer. I've been told there's an ill stallion here".

"Mare" Geralt corrected, glancing at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow. Jaskier gave him a reassuring smile.

"Can I have a look?" The healer asked, pointing at Roach. Geralt nodded silently, stepping away.

Geralt turned his head to Jaskier again, furrowing his brows. Jaskier rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively.

After a few minutes of looking and examining Roach, the healer hummed loudly. "Well, she's not dying".

Geralt turned on his heels to face him. "She's not?"

"No. She may take a couple of weeks to recover, but she'll live. She does have the flu, but the medicines she was given were probably too weak. I have the perfect potions for that. Use them for the king's horses all the time, when they get sick". Neros pulled a small vial out of one of his pockets, handing it to Geralt. Geralt accepted it dumbly.

"Make her drink half of it today. And the other half tomorrow morning. I'll be back tomorrow at noon to check on her condition". Neros got up on his feet, brushing his robe. He took another look at Roach. "And she is as beautiful as you told me, bard".

Jaskier smiled at him and gave him a small bow. "Thank you, m'lord".

Neros bowed at Jaskier and walked out of the stables. "Good night, sirs".

Geralt was still standing at the same spot, staring at the vial in his hand.

Jaskier approached him with a grin. "Isn't this great? She will be okay, Geralt!".

Geralt didn't answer him.

"Want me to help you give her the medicine? Not that I know much about horses, but I can tr-"

"How?" Geralt asked softly, turning to face Jaskier.

Jaskier crossed his hands over his chest and huffed. "I told you a million times. I know people! For all these years traveling the continent-"

"Where's your lute?" Geralt cut him off, noticing the absence of Jaskier's instrument, which was hanging over his shoulder earlier.

Jaskier pressed his lips, remaining silent. Geralt noticed the absence of rings on his fingers, too.

"And your rings?"

Jaskier sighed. "Geralt-"

"You traded your lute and rings to save my horse?"

Jaskier put his hands on his hips, gasping. "Once again! I told you! Me and Roach have a special connectio-"

Jaskier was cut off by Geralt pulling him into a tight embrace. Jaskier froze in place, his arms hovering awkwardly at his sides. He heard Geralt sniffling on his shoulder and he felt the Witcher's body shaking lightly.

Jaskier hugged him back, gently. "You were supposed to be happy. Not crying".

Geralt tightened his hold on Jaskier's waist. "Did you do it for me?".

Jaskier sighed, closing his eyes. "Stop it. I can sing around in taverns and get me a new lute in a few months".

"Why did you do it?" The Witcher insisted, speaking into Jaskier's shoulder.

Jaskier brushed Geralt's hair with his fingers, soothingly. "I know how much she means to you, Geralt. I didn't want to see you sad".

There was a minute of silence. Jaskier felt the Witcher's words vibrating through his chest, as he spoke them.

"Thank you".

a/n: my pet bunny is sick and we went to the vet today and I'm worried about him. Sorry for the angst. Part 2 to be happier and softer~

#geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #gerald #geraskier #geralt x dandelion #geralt z rivii #jaskier #geralt #witcher netflix #geralt the witcher #witcher #the witcher #julian alfred pankratz #dandilion #dandellion #dandelion #roach

[elowenp]

part 1, this on ao3

~

It’s a normal night, until it’s not.

Dick had been purposeful when he had said that Damian could make mistakes. He remembers the way the necessity of perfection had eaten at him when he was younger. He knows that Damian is even more susceptible than he was to that burning self-disgust at anything less than a flawlessness. Upon taking over the mantle of Batman, Dick had decided that Damian needed to know there was at least one adult in his life who wouldn't disown him for delivering anything less than perfection.

He hadn’t thought so much about what would happen when Damian actually did make a mistake.

It happens when Dick is in the middle of congratulating Damian on a particularly impressive move, one with a more gymnastic slant which Dick is sure is based on one of his own trademarks. He’s telling Damian what a good job he’s doing and Damian is puffing up with pride, a smile playing around the edges of his expression. Then Dick catches the glint of the sniper rifle scope.

The ability to dodge bullets is a trademark of members of their family. Damian should feel the whistle of the bullet coming his way, he should jolt back from the air parting in front of him. But Damian's too caught up in his pride to do any of those things quickly enough so within a moment of Dick spotting the rifle scope there’s a bullet in Damian's leg.

Dick is so used to falling that he doesn't remember a time when it didn't feel like flying. The way his stomach drops now though, it doesn't feel like flying. It feels like the kid he said he'd take care of has blood spurting from his leg and it's all Dick's fault.

To his credit Damian is very calm about it. Dick knows he’s been shot before although he doesn’t know if it was a purposeful part of the boys training or not. His blood boils at either prospect. Even as the crowd is still screaming for their heroes to come save them Dick grabs Damian from the blood soaked ground and rushes to the batmobile, putting it on autopilot as he tries to stabilise the patient.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, “I’m sorry. We’ll be back at home in no time and we’ll get you all fixed up, okay?” Dick blinks away the tears at the sight of Damian bloody and pale in front of him. Impediments to his vision will only make it harder to get Damian stable.

“Okay.” Damian replies, voice remarkably steady.

Now aware that someone he trusts is going to make it all better, Damian promptly passes out.

“Shit.” Dick says, young ears now unable to hear him. “Shit shit shit shit shit. Fuck.”

He swears to his heart's content for the rest of the ride back to the manor and it does very little to make him feel any better.

No, the swirling sea of worry-guilt-anguish in his stomach only begins to abate at the sight of Alfred in the bat cave, perfectly calm and with all the necessary medical supplies ready. They get Damian to a bed and Dick tries to make himself useful as Alfred treats the bullet wound.

He isn’t particularly useful and spends most of his time fretting.

“He’ll be fine, Master dick.” Alfred says once he’s finished up and washing the blood from where it had stained his skin.

“Of course he will.” Dick replies, attempting to sound a little more nonchalant than he actually is. From the look Alfred gives him he doesn’t think he succeeds.

He’s spared the indignity of having to say anything else by the rumble of Tim’s motorbike pulling into the cave. Tim gets off with an urgency Dick isn’t sure he expected and when he takes his domino off there’s genuine worry in the frown between his eyes.

“Is he okay?” he asks, his tone frantic.

“He’ll be fine.” Dick's grateful to find that his voice is far more level now than it was ten minutes ago.

Tim tilts his head to the side, looking at Dick. His expression narrows into something slightly more analytical than concern. “Are you okay?”

Dick tries to say yes. He really does. He's Tim’s big brother, he’s Batman. Of course he can tell his little brother that he’s okay. But after a moment of silence Dick glances towards where Damian lies far too still on their operating table and feels the tears he's been fighting off resurface in his eyes.

Tim nods as if this is confirming something. “Come on.” He says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dick tries to protest that Damian needs someone to be here when he wakes up but Tim just continues to pull him gently out of the cave.

“He’s going to be out for the next few hours. I can make you hot chocolate in the meantime.”

Dick wants to keep protesting but he’s been left tired and weak by the nights events. He allows himself to slump as his little brother leads him out of the darkness.

~

Dick talks. Significantly more than he had intended to.

He talks about how he can’t balance this awful dichotomy of guardian and commander. He talks about how he’s still not entirely sure how to be Batman, let alone a parent. He talks about how he can’t keep doing this without something breaking.

Probably him. Possibly Damian. Both answers are unacceptable.

“I’ll to fix this” Tim says. The determination in his expression reminds Dick of when he came to his bludhaven apartment all those years ago and demanded Dick reprise his roll as Robin. “I’m going to make a call, we’ll sort this out.” he promises.

Tim’s always been good at that. Tugging on the fraying strings of their family tapestry until it resembles something whole. It’s how he came into the family in the first place and Dick has always been grateful for that.

Tim leaves, already dialing a number into his phone with a look of intense concentration. Dick wants to go check on Damian but Alfreds got that handled so it’s not like he’ll actually help. Sitting idle at the boys bedside will probably just make him feel worse.

So Dick hangs his head and waits for someone to save him.

~

“Give me a lift to the airport?” Tim asks far too sweetly. The tone of voice doesn’t suit him.

“You can drive.” Dick points out, suspicious.

Tim gives him a look, like Dick's being difficult on purpose. “It’ll be a bonding opportunity.” he says, his tone lowering to something closer to his usual cadence. Dick still feels suspicious but there’s a million things he has to do today that are more important than arguing with his only sane brother, so he nods. Tim grins in response and gets up with a lot more energy than he tends to these days.

Dick decides that there’s little use in thinking on it more. He’s in charge of far too many things at the moment, he’ll let Tim control this one.

~

Cass appears in the collection area, suitcase in hand, and Dick feels the weight of the world become significantly lighter.

She's more muscled than she was when she left. Her footsteps are more confident. It makes pride rise in Dick's throat as he realises how brave his little sister is for growing so much all by herself.

She picks up her pace once Tim and Dick are in view, almost breaking into a jog as she approaches. She wraps an arm around each of them and Dick can feel her smile pressing against his cheek.

Dick realises that his own smile is pressing against Cass’s cheek. His chin is somehow resting in Tim’s hair.

He savours the moment and feels more full than he has in a long time.

“Welcome home.” He says into Cass’s neck. He feels her smile even wider in response.

~

That night as Dick is about to go on patrol Cass taps his shoulder.

“I can do it.” she says, pointing at the Batman suit Dick had been about to start putting on.

Dick frowns, pushing away the golden hope bleeding into the edges of his soul. “It won’t fit.” he says.

Cass shrugs. “I won’t wear it. But I can do it.”

Dick feels his frown deepen. Cass is younger than him and she hasn’t been in Gotham for so long. It’s not a good idea for her to take on the mantle. She’s already got far too much weighing her down without adding another impossible burden for her to bear.

Dick looks past Cass for a second to allow his eyes to rest on Tim, busying himself with sorting his own gear out but none too subtly watching the exchange between Dick and Cass. He gives a slight nod. An endorsement. Dick looks back to Cass who is smiling very gently at his indecision.

“Okay.” he says, and the room releases a sigh of relief.

~

Cass has been Batman every night since she got back a week ago and Dick hasn’t felt this light since Bruce died.

She was always the best fighter out of them. Always a little faster, a little more cutting, than any of her brothers. She isn’t as used to the detective aspect of things but she's surrounded by enough people trained in that aspect of the job that it isn’t a problem. Dick wears the Nightwing suit and flies higher than he has in months. Damian tends to work with Cass, Batman needs a Robin after all, but will pop up on Dick's patrols with silent requests for ice cream and a shoulder to lean on.

Cass can be Damian's Batman. Dick can be his guardian. It was always too much to ask of Bruce, for him to be both. For him to be their teacher and their hero and their father. Splitting the load seems to be going far better than anything Bruce used to try.

~

Sometimes Dick will catch Tim smiling at him the same way he does at a problem just solved. He wants to say thank you. Thank you for letting me outrun that awful burden for a little longer. Thank you for saving me. But he supposes that’s just what brothers are for.

Instead he asks Tim if he wants to go train surfing. They haven’t since before Bruce died. Dick was far too busy trying to keep the world from collapsing in on itself and Tim was too busy trying to find a way to stop Dick from crumbling under the pressure of it.

“Yeah.” Tim says, his smile twisting and morphing until it goes from analytical to soft and relieved. “Yeah I’d like that.”

~

"Do you miss him?" Damian asks one day. Dick doesn't need any clarification on who he's talking about.

The two of them are sat on a rooftop, legs swinging over the side. Damian is holding a rum and raisin ice cream Dick had pressed firmly into his hand. Dick decided a while ago that Damian should be offered the opportunity to try all the flavours he missed out on in the earlier part of his childhood and he thinks they're making some pretty good progress.

Dick considers for a moment. It's a complicated question. "Yes," he starts, because of course he does, "But it doesn't hurt like it used to. Not now that I can focus on being myself instead of squeezing myself into the shape of the person I'm mourning. And you?"

"Yes." Damian starts, because of course he does. He pauses for longer than Dick did but that makes sense. Damian's thoughts are complicated enough that Dick can't help but be proud of the kid for being able to untangle even a few of them. "But I know a lot of people who've died. And at least this time I gained what I came searching for regardless of what happened to Father."

It's not a thank you. Dick knows that it's going to take a little more time for Damian to learn how to shape his mouth into those words. But it's a start.

Dick looks at all the life surrounding him and smiles.

#dick grayson #damain wayne #nightwing #batman #writing #dc #tim drake #cassandra cain #cass cain #i have not posted anything in AGES #exams murdered me but i'm back #(until resits) #also i just put this in a word counter and I did not realise how long this was #au where tim doesn't bring bruce back

[anythingbutmar]

Mistake

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: After you turned 18, Diego and you pretty much distanced from the other members of the academy, so when you all meet for Reginald’s funeral you have some explaining to do.

A/N: I kinda love this concept but I changed a few details of this request so the reader is not raised as a sibling and her relationship with the others is in no way familial. I missed writing, specially for Diego, so thanks anon! This is quite long too, so sorry about that. I had a lot of fun too, so let me know if you’d like me to make this into a series, cause I might do it.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of homelessness, but overall just fluff and a bit of angst.

You liked to say that the life you made by yourself happened because of a simple mistake, because you had come across the Umbrella Academy on a very particular way.

You could say you had a decent upbringing, your mother wasn’t abusive but she was pretty much the definition of overprotective, and as a child you were never told that it was because a man had literally tried to buy you on the day you were born, in fact, you didn’t know anything about him or the children he managed to adopt because your mother and grandparents wouldn’t let you get anywhere near any piece of information of whatever existed outside your little hometown.

They told you they were doing it because your father had left you when you were just a baby and they wanted to protect you from the dangers of foreign men, of course you thought that you were born from a normal pregnancy, and you believed everything, that and the fact that you could control any element to your will, which they said was wrong and kept hidden. You were homeschooled, and you could only socialize with the kids from your neighborhood which was good, but it wasn’t enough, and we all now overprotectiveness can really mess with someone’s mind.

And so, even though you went along with it for many years, when one of your only friends suggested you both snuck out for a party on the big city for your sixteenth birthday you couldn’t say no, and that was the mistake, if it is possible to call it like that.

On the best Rapunzel style you went out your bedroom window, got on a bus and drank so much alcohol you completely passed out on a strangers lap and woke up on an unknown bed with a beautiful woman smiling down at you. Well, maybe that wasn’t Rapunzel’s style, but it sure felt like it at first.

The next series of events happened so fast it almost felt like a dream. You met a handful of strange children, one of which you later remembered had brought you there while being just as drunk as you were, his name was Klaus, and he later became the best friend you ever had; then you had the most overwhelming conversation of your life, in which an incredibly mean old man explained how you were actually born and made you understand just how different and important you were, but not in the wholesome way.

About an hour later your mother stormed through the academy looking for you, but one of the girls whispered something in her ear on her dad’s command which changed your mom’s entire attitude, with her allowing you to stay as if it was a boarding school, or so she told you, but she only visited once every few months and she didn’t seem as caring as before. According to Allison, that was in no way her fault, and you believed her, because at the end of the day you trusted your newfound friends much more than the woman that lied to you your entire life.

And so, you learnt to control your ability like never before, while also enduring Reginald’s cruel treatment, but it didn’t matter at all, because in the midst of everything you found Diego, and with him came all the things you never experienced before. He brought you happiness, love, trust and overall, lust for life.

Two years later you were living your best teenage secret romance. You snuck out at nights to visit all the parts from the city that he wanted you to meet, and you shared tiny kisses whenever Reginald and the kids weren’t watching. But Diego left, just like he had planned since he was a kid, and you weren’t brave enough to follow him. It wasn’t until his other siblings started leaving too that you realized that no matter how hard it was to be outside on your own, holding on to life with him was better than anything else. It was actually thanks to Allison, the smart girl had noticed you two holding hands under the table and knew just how heartbroken you were without him. “Chase him, Y/N, you won’t have this opportunity ever again.” She said right before she left, and she was absolutely right.

It took you less than a week to find him on a motel, bruised as ever and with barely enough money to pay for another night, and in between hugs, kisses and forbidden touches you promised him that you’d both get out of there. He told you he had been on that place for three weeks and a half, but the first few days after leaving the academy he had to sleep on a park bench until he gathered enough money by playing with his knifes to amuse people on the street. It had been hard, but now that you were together everything was so much better.

After many years living in the back room of a rusty gym, both of you taking turns in wiping it’s floors while also trying to study and save people at nights, because the one thing you learned from Reginald was that you loved helping people, and Diego’s vigilantism was just as appealing to you as it was to him. Diego was accepted into the police force and you finished your studies on a cheap school, which allowed you both to get a job you liked, and when you were finally able to buy a house for yourselves Diego proposed.

“Y/N, before you arrived my life was a nightmare, and all I ever wanted was to stay as far away from that place as it was possible, and everything that reminded me of it I planned on cutting from my life, but you arrived with your sweet smile, your shy eyes and those damn legs, and you completely switched my view of the world because I knew right there that I would love you forever, and I do. I love to see you in your weird ass robe, making potions-”

“I’m a chemist babe, not a witch.” You corrected him laughing.

“Let me finish Y/N!” He laughed with you. “I love how you treated me and my siblings, and I love how you helped mom, and god! I love how you used to beat bad guys with fucking wind on our nights out! I love everything about you sweetheart, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” By then you were both crying, and of course you said yes, how could you not?

Cut to ten years later and the day you had silently both dreaded and hoped for came. Reginald Hargreeves was dead, and you couldn’t even tell if you were sad about it, after all, the man had saved you from Mother Gothel, as Diego and you started calling her after watching Tangled with your daughters, but he saved you at what cost? You now had quite a few burn scars in your body from his dangerous training, you loved each one of them because they reminded you just how powerful you were, but still, no teenager should have to go through that.

And you couldn’t even get started on Diego. You wondered how and when he would take the news. He was out on his monthly vigilante night, which was kind of a gift you gave to each other, you were allowed to leave for the night once every month on different days because now that you had kids you could no longer risk your life everyday like you used to before. The kids, oh boy, what were you gonna do with your beloved girls? You weren’t sure if taking them to the funeral with you was the right decision, you wanted to shelter them from death and all the evil things in the world, but then again, you weren’t your mother, and you had no one to leave them with.

Just as you were thinking about maybe even staying, your husband entered your home, and he looked destroyed. It was one in the morning and you had been waiting for him while thinking of Reginald, and clearly he had been thinking about the same thing. You quickly stood up and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“He’s d-dead.” He stuttered on your shoulder. He didn’t even sound sad, he just seemed shocked.

“Shh, I know baby, I know.” You stood there for a while, just comforting each other in the middle of your kitchen before going to bed, you needed to rest for the next day because you knew it would be anything but ordinary.

And in the blink of an eye you were ringing the bell of the academy, each of your girls holding their father’s hand, the three of them standing behind you in your small, useless effort to protect them.

Grace opened up, and you couldn’t be happier to see her. You gave her a small hug and then gave Diego some space so he could properly say hi to his beloved mother. He introduced Luna and Amber and she was delighted to see Diego in a stable, loving family, she just seemed a bit off, but you’d talk to Diego about that later.

And then... Lord help you, you entered the livingroom and ran headfirst into Klaus who instantly hugged you, twirling you around and making you laugh as you both landed on the floor.

“Y/N, love! How have you been?” He sat up, looking at the doorframe, as he seemed to notice the two pair of eyes that stared in curiosity. “Oh I see you’ve gotten busy! Hello my little munchkins, I’m your uncle Klaus!”

“Wait Y/N/N, you’re with Diego now?” Luther asked from the other side of the room. Despite his rivalry with your now husband, you were quite close to him during your small time on the academy.

“Honestly Luther, I love you, but you can be quite oblivious sometimes.” You stood up with his help and hugged him tightly, getting a comforting feeling from his embrace.

“I’m here too, you know, your brother, Diego?” He finally entered, still holding your daughters’s hands and analizing the scene.

“It’s not our fault that you can’t say hi to anybody.” Allison came from behind him, scaring him, which made the girls laughing.

“Hi Allison.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes at his sister.

“I always knew you liked keeping your secrets but this two are way too big to hide” Se kneeled down to pinch Luna’s cheek, who smiled bashfully at her aunt.

Amber, your youngest, ran towards you and pulled your hand. You kneeled to her height as she whispered in your ear. “Mommy, I want to meet uncle Spaceboy.” You smiled softly at her sweetness, carrying her towards him. She instantly jumped in his arms, which took both Luther and you by surprise, she wasn’t the most sociable girl after all, but you kinda understood, his big frame and natural akwardness made him look quite huggable.

“Damn bro, you’ve gotten big.” Diego joined you, leaving Allison to play with Luna, who was now excited to know that she had a cousin her age, and you left before the two started bickering, but much to your surprise, the presence of your daughter seemed to retain them from fighting like they used to. Maybe bringing them was a good idea after all.

“Well, this is is quite the frame” Pogo entered the room with Vanya right behind him. You all waved at them, tired already of all the hugs already.

“Hi everyone.” Vanya entered uncomfortably, allowing Allison to hug her and having a small talk.

You turned to Diego and looked at him, a warning in your eyes. You knew your husband all to well, and you could see how much the book had hurted him, but you weren’t going to let him start a fight in the middle of a family meeting.

But of course, he wouldn’t listen to you.

“Why did you do it?” He started walking towards her as you mentally facepalmed. This wasn’t going to end well.

“Really, Diego? This isn’t the right time.” Allison scolded him, standing between him and her only sister.

“Then when is it, Allison? The next time we see each other? Should we wait another twelve years?” Allison just scoffed and stormed out of the room, Luther following after her, Vanya left silently, looking hurt, and Klaus snuck out in the heat of the moment, probably looking for money.

You sat on the biggest couch in the middle of your daughters, surrounding them with your arms. “That went well.” You stared at Diego, who pocked his tongue at you.

And it was about to get worse.

After having a tiny dance party, thanks to Luther’s incredibly loud turntable, you heard a thunderlike sound and watched as a bright blue light appeared outside. You looked at Diego, knowing what to do from all the years of practice that you had together. Each of you grabbed one of the kids, running outside to meet the others, who surrounded you in a protective manner, protecting their newly met nieces.

There was a portal in front of you, which Klaus tried to close with a fire extinguisher, but you could tell it wouldn’t work, because that wasn’t made of fire, or any other element that you were familiar with, for that matter, and you were an element bending chemist, for christ’s sake.

“What the hell is that babe?” Diego yelled, trying to understand.

“I have no idea, but there’s something coming out of it!” You yelled back, and everyone turned to look at what appeared to be an old man coming out of the portal. And in a flash of blue, a small boy landed at your feet, he looked incredibly similar to the portrait of the lost sibling that hung on top of the fireplace.

“Does anyone else see little number five?” They all nodded at Klaus, who clearly wasn’t sober enough for this, or maybe the poor thing thought that was the ghost of him, and you knew he already had enough with one dead brother following him around.

“What on earth is wrong with this family?” You said, looking at the odd teenager.

                                                             --

Minutes passed as you all stared at Five, who was preparing a goddamned sandwich, in the middle of one of the most confusing moments of your life.

“You’re new.” He simply stated, looking at you.

“Umm yeah, we haven’t had the chance to meet before, I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand, which he didn’t take, the tiny bastard.

“Oh we’ve met. You were the one with the girls, holding his hand.” He pointed at Diego, sandwich in hand.

“I don’t understand, you weren-”

“Look kid, I’m sorry, but I can’t trust you, you need to leave.” Diego was ready to jump at him, but Luther stopped him and you grabbed his arm softly.

“It’s ok honey, I get it.” You whispered and left to look for Grace who was taking care of the girls.

You let out a sigh as you walked by your old room. You had been wanting to scream ever since you got there, but this was your first alone moment in the whole day, and a sigh was just as effective as a scream, it helped.

                                                            --

Then came the funeral, and it was hard. Luther scattered the ashes and you manipulated the wind so they wouldn’t look like a pile of grey shit, which actually, was an accurate depiction of Reginald, but you did it for him and Pogo, it was the right thing to do.

And after a few out of place comments, Diego and Luther started fighting right in front of your daughters, so much for the agreement. Luna and Amber started crying, hiding behind Five, who, much to your surprise, covered them with his body as he slowly took them inside. It was infuriating to see the men fighting in front of you, but you couldn’t help but smile looking at Five.

It was that moment that truly made you feel home, like you really were in family, and it warmed your heart.

-End of maybe part one?-

#i wasn't expecting to go this far #but i did #and i don't regret it #diego hargreeves imagines #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves fluff #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves fanfiction #the umbrella academy fanfiction #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy fluff #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy imagine

[yodawgiherd]

You Were Never Truly Gone - END

>>>Read on AO3<<< Rating: M

So this is it, the final chapter. It was fun to share this with you all, and I do hope that you enjoyed the ride at least a little bit ;) check end note ( on AO3) for a surprise

The room where the most honored and powerful individuals of the Hizuru nation resided was a spacious one. Intricate paintings decorated the walls, cuts in the wood created beautiful carvings and the pottery alone was worth more than what a decent-sized village would eat through in a month.  Overall, it triumphed everything Mikasa saw in her life, easily topping the castle back on Paradis, and a single thought flashed through her head.

Those guys are lucky that all this pomp wasn’t trampled during the rumbling.

Unlike the room, the council itself was almost exactly what Mikasa expected. Old men and women sitting in expensive chairs and wearing expensive robes – kimono, was it? – studying her with cold and calculating eyes. Unlike Kiyomi, who Mikasa respected despite their recent disagreements, these were the ones who lacked the spine of iron she possessed. They never took an active part in the war, never braved the sea to assist the struggling nation, never stared down a barrel of the gun.

Never kicked Floch’s ass either. Heh.

They inspected her - a curiosity, a trinket shipped from across the sea to be pinned on the Shogun’s chest, a strange yet beautiful ornament. Vultures, carrion eaters, exactly the type that Mikasa despised, as they reminded her of the same individuals who were responsible for the fucked up political situation back home. Then again, Mikasa was not here to change them, she could never do that, she wasn't a politician. She was here to blow their minds.

Summoning her courage and combining it with the steadfast presence of masked Eren at her back, Mikasa took a few steps forward until she was standing in the middle of the room. Easy to be seen, easy to be heard. Kiyomi, who followed close behind, saved her from the awkward need of introducing herself. An unnecessary formality, as they definitely knew who she was.

“Lady Mikasa Ackerman of the Paradis Island.”, Kiyomi said out loud, “The Shogun’s descendant.”

A wave of murmurs ran through the seated council members.

“Lady Mikasa,”, one spoke up, a man whose facial features closely resembled Daigo’s, “It is an honor.”

“The honor is all mine.”, she replied quickly, knowing how important first impressions are.

If this was indeed lord Sawamura, as she suspected, he was the one holding the most power in Hizuru's shattered government. A man who expected his son to be the next Shogun, a plan she was here to disrupt. Thread carefully…

“We hope that your journey was pleasant.”, a woman council member said, a neutral smile on her lips, “The seas can be cruel at this time of the year, but we had more than enough suffering.”

“The journey was fine.”, Kiyomi spoke up, moving past Mikasa and taking her seat on the vacant chair.

It was her right, of course, as she was a full member of this council.

But exchanging formalities would get them nowhere – yet before Mikasa could say anything Sawamura took the word.

“I feel like we all know why we have gathered today.”, his eyes found Mikasa’s, “I know that this is rather sudden, but we would like the wedding to be held in a few weeks at most, the people need something grand to focus on and this event will give them just that.”

"The royal tailor is here,", the woman from before chimed in, "We can have your measurements taken today if you are not too tired lady Mikasa. The sooner he can start working on your dress, the better."

“I-“

“The florist is here too, so we can discuss the choices of…”

“….the carpets…”

“Number of guests?”

It became a blur around her, the council talking together as if Mikasa wasn't even there. It was exactly as she suspected – she was a trophy from the distant lands, a status shipped over because of the blood in her veins. But did anyone care about what she had to say?

Hell no.

Finding Kiyomi Mikasa realized that the old woman was looking straight at her, the message clear. This was her show, and if she wanted to be more than a pretty face she had to speak for herself, Kiyomi wouldn’t bail her out this time around. Closing her eyes and preparing the speech, Mikasa inhaled deeply.

Eren being here was stupid, she knew that, but was glad for it regardless. His presence behind her, however masked, was something she could draw strength from. It was them she was fighting for now, the whatever they had because it filled her with joy like nothing else. She had to defend that, no matter what.

“I’m not marrying.”, she said.

Everybody ignored her and yammered on about the wedding, while Kiyomi’s ironic smile grew.

“I’m not marrying!”, she shouted this time around, finally getting the council’s attention.

“What do you mean?”, someone asked from her right.

“I won’t marry anyone because I will be your Shogun instead.”

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The silence was so thick that Mikasa could probably cut it, lasting for three seconds before it imploded into another heated debate. There was a lot of shouting suddenly, disbelieving shaking of heads, and lord Sawamura was among the loudest, immediately getting Mikasa’s attention.

“A woman can never be a Shogun!”

“A woman never was a Shogun,”, she replied, “and I would like to remind you all that these circumstances we find ourselves in are also unprecedented.”

“Why would we ever vote for you? You are an outsider, you know nothing of Hizuru!”

“Fair point,", Mikasa agreed, “Let me explain…”

The commotion died down as they stared at her – the sheer audacity of her words taking the winds from their sails.

“I had no ties to Hizuru, no deep need for a reconnection with my people. My mother died before she could tell me about you all, before the spark in me was ignited. All I was given is this-“, Mikasa raised her hand, letting everyone see the tattoo on her wrist, “This ink, this mark of a clan I didn’t know, that was nothing to me back then. I kept it secret because my mother wished it so, but didn’t pay much attention to it, as you can all agree that I had quite a lot on my mind.”

Eren smiled behind the Faceless mask, very much remembering how privileged he felt when Mikasa peeled those bandages from her wrist and showed him the mark for the first time, years and years ago. In the middle of the room, she continued her speech.

“Then Kiyomi came, telling me all about your nation and my heritage, and I was taken aback. So this was what the mark meant, this was why I should have kept it hidden – suddenly I was royalty.", she chuckled, "You could imagine that I wasn't exactly thrilled by that."

“The war happened, rumbling destroyed the world and I was left to sit in Paradis and watch it become a militaristic stronghold. And that’s when I couldn’t take it anymore.”, for the first time in her speech, Mikasa raised her voice, “I have seen too much death, too much war, too much suffering for it to repeat again and again, for humanity to be stuck in some never-ending loop of violence. I have decided to use this mark, this status of mine for one thing and one thing only.”

She spread her arms.

“Peace. And not only peace of a shocked world that is slowly rebuilding from the ashes, but a peace that will survive not only us in this room but our children too. That’s why I’m asking for your support as the new Shogun. I am not a skilled and experienced politician, I am a soldier who was burned out by the violence I was forced to endure. Yet it gave me something, it gave me the status of a hero and I will use it to help you.”

One by one, her eyes moved to the occupants of the room.

“Hizuru needs a symbol, a figurehead to rally behind and I will be that for you. In return, you of the ruling council will help me in securing the peace I long for, by guiding me in these trying times. I do not care for the power that a status of the Shogun brings, I care for the possibilities it opens.”

“Such as?”, an old man spoke, guarded expression on his face.

“Paradis needs help. It is a powder keg that is bound to explode, if not today then tomorrow, if not now then in dozen years. I want to defuse it, and in return provide Hizuru with a stable and profitable partner.”

“How?”, the same old man questioned her.

"The feelings of supremacy and prejudice towards the outside world can be dispelled with only one thing – information. If we make the trade and people flow between our nations, they are bound to integrate into the society. Those who come here from Paradis will see that we are the same as them, those who move from here to the island will help them overcome their destructive mindset.”

“That is all very nice and all,”, a woman was speaking now, sitting next to Kiyomi, “but what is your guarantee that it will work out?”

"I have none, only the feeling that the world had enough death and destruction for a long, long time. I believe that the Yeagerists are scared, afraid of retaliation from the outside world, and if we don't do anything this fear will in time change into a deep hatred."

Another round of murmurs ran through the council before the old man spoke up again.

“It is nice that you have a plan for Paradis, but what about Hizuru? As a Shogun our nation should be of the uttermost interest to you.”

“I’m still learning about this nation, I am an outsider after all. I think that this opening of borders with Paradis will help us economically, and I can assure you that queen Reiss will be more than open to negotiation. The island is a goldmine, or do I have to remind you about all the iceburst stones?”

Playing on their greed – shifting in her seat Kiyomi couldn’t help but be impressed by how Mikasa was leading the council, and her speech was not done yet.

“Selling those is a very lucrative activity, and I am sure that I would be able to get us an exclusive partnership… With Paradis, I am very experienced, but the subtler points of ruling elude me.”, she bowed slightly towards the man, “That’s why I will leave a large part of power in your hands, esteemed council, because you will help with the best interests of Hizuru at heart.”

Even more murmurs appeared between the seated men and women as they realized what Mikasa was offering them. A leading figure while they would keep most of the power, something to rally behind and guide Hizuru out of this fractured state they found themselves in post rumbling.

“We will need to put this to more discussion and a vote.”, the old man took the word, “We thank you for your time, lady Mikasa, and will let you know of the result.”

With a last bow she left the council room, Eren in his Faceless uniform just a step behind her. Kiyomi watched them leave with a tight expression, very much knowing that once the door closes the eruption of words will be enormous. Taking a breath, she steeled herself, prepared to defend Mikasa’s points.

To a limit, of course.

It wasn’t until they reached the solitude of her chambers that Mikasa collapsed into Eren’s chest, emotionally exhausted.

“Do you think that we have a chance?”, she asked in a small voice.

“You presented yourself very well,”, he soothed her, rubbing small circles on her back, “They would be fools not to take you up on the offer.”

“You think so?”

“With you, the council can keep much more of the leverage than it had, and they are all power-hungry fools – let me remind you that Kiyomi told us these are the ones who tore the country apart.”

“That’s fine, but I have no intention of letting them turn me into a puppet.”

“I know that, Kiyomi knows that, but they don’t. They see an outsider that they can use as a symbol to say – we have this hero of the Rumbling on our side, rally behind her because she is among those who saved the whole world.”

“Officially, Armin is the one who killed you.”

“I know, but you were there with him.”

They stood in silence, hugging each other, until Mikasa spoke up.

“Can you remove your mask for a second?”

“Uhm, sure, but why?”

A snicker.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Just a kiss?”

“Don’t make me tear it off, Yeager.”

“I would not dare, my lady.”

It took several hours, and the day outside slowly progressed into the night. Mikasa was nervous, walking around her room like a caged tiger, replaying the conversation in her head and wondering if she could have said something different, something better. Eren watched her, unsure of how to calm the storm that she was, and in the end decided to just passively stand there and hide behind the Faceless mask. A bit of a cowardly move but he really didn't want to get in a fight with her, especially not now.

The tension was broken when the door slammed open, a red-faced courier appearing. From the way his chest heaved, it was easy to guess that he ran the whole way.

"Lady Ackerman,", he bowed low, "The council has reached a decision, if you would be so kind to accompany me?"

Self-consciously smoothing the wrinkles on her uniform that formed from all the marching, Mikasa nodded at the man.

“Lead the way.”

Every step bopped the heart farther up Mikasa’s throat, and not even Eren’s presence was enough to calm her. This is it – here she would find out what the future held for her.

In no way, shape or form would she ever go along with the marriage – either she gets what she wants or she and Eren are doing a dramatic and most likely bloody escape from the palace. And if they die, they can finally be free and together in the afterlife – Mikasa had no doubts that if there was a place after death, they would find each other again.

The door was familiar, even the guards who opened it for her, and Mikasa stepped into the room with Eren in tow. Eyes of everyone swung to her and the conversation halted – the expressions of the council members remained unreadable, even Kiyomi betrayed nothing.

"We have talked about your proposal extensively, lady Mikasa.", lord Sawamura began, "We weighed the pros and cons, went over everything you said slowly and carefully."

He looked her straight in the eye as he continued.

“You must understand that Hizuru is this council’s primary concern – no individual, no matter how big or small, can take precedence over the nation. In light of that, we have reached an almost unanimous decision.”

Mikasa held her breath, eyes instinctively searching for escape routes from the room. Behind her, a tiny clink could be heard as Eren's fingers curled around the handle of his sword. This did not sound good.

“And so with all that in mind,”, Sawamura went on, “The council has decided to…”

Half a step back, the door was right behind her, she could…

“…accept your offer, lady Mikasa.”

“I… W-What?”

“We will let you take up the mantle of the Shogun.”, Sawamura grimaced, “It wasn’t an easy call to make, but lady Azumabito was very vocal in her support.”

Kiyomi’s face didn’t move, remaining neutral.

"You will, of course, share most of the power with us, and all the decisions must be signed by the council before going public. We have decided to take this opportunity not only as a change of a Shogun but as a shift of our nation towards democracy…"

In other words, they were exactly as power-hungry vampires as Mikasa hoped them to be, but she couldn't care less. She listened as Sawamura went on but his words couldn't truly find purchase in the mush that her brain became. It worked – however bold and stupid her plan was, they went along with it.

It was over, finished, she had won, and everything else was worthless padding.

It wasn’t until about an hour later when she was permitted to leave. The council would continue in their session, most likely tearing up the power into small pieces and stuffing themselves full with it, and they didn’t need her to witness that. Elated to be free, at last, Mikasa took off in the direction of her chambers, feet beating the floor in a steady staccato.

“What’s the rush?”, Eren huffed behind her, burdened by his armor.

Checking left and right that they are alone, she stopped and turned, coming face to…. mask.

“I have been on the edge for several hours,”, Mikasa muttered in a heated whisper, “so we are going back to my room and there you will help me get rid of some of the frustration.”

She slapped his breastplate.

“And that’s an order, soldier.”

Despite the mask, she could hear the grin in Eren’s answer.

“Yes ma’am.”

He didn’t complain after that.

After everything coming together and an evening and a night of great pleasures, Mikasa expected a lot of happy reactions from her body – she didn’t expect to throw up in the morning.

Eren refused to stay away, holding her hair and rubbing her back while she retched into the toilet. One of the disadvantages of having long hair, it gets in the way.

“I’m sorry,”, she murmured once she could speak again, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You are sorry because you are feeling sick, that’s…”, he chuckled, “that’s so you, Miki.”

Yet while Eren would be fine with just leaving it at that, knowing that Mikasa was exactly as boneheaded as him if she wanted to, their new patron disagreed. Kiyomi wouldn’t hear about just “walking it off”, that was literally the worst thing that she heard in a long time. Was that how they took care of their health on Paradis? Well, ultimately it didn’t matter as Mikasa was the future Shogun, and keeping her healthy was the old woman’s utmost priority. The doctor she summoned was probably the best in all of Hizuru and his prices reflected that, but money was not a concern anymore.

What a strange way to live, Mikasa thought to herself.

He was the perfect professional, examining Mikasa with quick and precise hands, all of it while Eren’s eyes never left him. The Faceless guard was truly expected everywhere, and the doctor didn’t have the slightest problem with him staying.

It didn’t take long, and when all of the symptoms and tests finished, he had exactly one thing to say.

“You are not sick, lady Ackerman.”

“No? Then what is happening to me?”

“I believe that congratulations are in order.”

That did nothing but confuse the poor girl even further.

“What?”

“You are pregnant.”

It took every single fiber in Eren’s body not to explode right there, his knuckles tightening so much that they cracked audibly. Kiyomi on the other hand had a completely different reaction.

“Pregnant? But how?”

The doctor sighed.

“Do I truly have to explain that?”

“What? No, no we… I mean…”

“Good, I’ll be taking my leave then.”

With a bow the man disappeared, leaving the three of them alone and finally giving Eren the chance to do what he wanted. Ripping his mask off and closing the distance to Mikasa in two steps he picked her up, spinning her around while laughing like a maniac. She was still half in disbelief, keeping silent.

Which was okay, because Kiyomi had a lot to say.

“Do you have to destroy everything that I plan?”

Eren was stuck in his happy place, content with laughing, so Mikasa answered for them both.

“It’s not like we planned it…”

“Of course you didn’t…”, Kiyomi rubbed her forehead, “This is so….”

“Great!”, Eren finished for her, “I can’t believe it!”

“Troublesome,” Kiyomi disagreed.

Deep in thought, she tapped her foot once, twice, three times before saying something that drastically changed the atmosphere in the room.

“You should get rid of it.”

“What?”

As gently as he could Eren set her down, getting between Kiyomi and Mikasa as if the old woman would charge her and try to carve the baby from Mikasa’s stomach.

“It’s the most logical way,” Kiyomi argued, “getting pregnant out of nowhere while not being married? It will bring nothing but trouble.”

“We are not getting rid of it.”, Eren cut her off before realizing that there was someone else in the room they should ask.

“Or… Are we?”, he turned to Mikasa, worry creasing his forehead.

She stared at him for a second, wondering if he just did that – if he asked: Do you want to get rid of something she and Eren created from their love, a proof oh much they adored each other, an offspring that would…

“No.”, she said out loud, “I don’t.”

The relief was visible on him, same as the irritation on Kiyomi.

“Oh good…”

“Lady Mikasa…”

“I’m not getting an abortion. Not an option.”

It was one of the fights that Kiyomi knew she could never win, so she did the smart thing and backed down before it even started.

Stupid kids. Dumb stupid kids risking everything just for… well… whatever. They wouldn't take the easy way out, and Kiyomi was stuck with them. Maybe she didn't like the plan at first, the way Mikasa led her in blind, manipulated her, but Kiyomi would be lying if she said that it wasn't impressive. For a former soldier who had no training in such things, guile and outsmarting came naturally to her.

More importantly, Kiyomi did like the girl, despite all her claims that this is all just for the greatness of the Hizuru nation. Mikasa was everything she wanted in a leader, or in the daughter that she never had. Which would, in some strange twisted way, make Kiyomi a grandmother, now that Mikasa was pregnant. Too bad that the child would be cursed with having Eren Yeager for a father, that guy could go burn in hell for all Kiyomi cared.

Anyway, if they didn’t want to get rid of the kid, there were certain changes to be made, to make sure that the plan didn’t go down in flames.

“Then we have to accelerate this whole thing.”, she said out loud.

“How so?”, Eren questioned her, still in that defensive stance between her and Mikasa.

Please, as if that girl ever needed protecting, the memory of her sweeping in and taking out half a room of armed men was still in Kiyomi’s memory. A nice gesture though.

“The preparations would normally take time, and Mikasa can hardly show herself on the day of her coronation day with a belly, can she?”

“Will the council accept this?”

“I don’t know, but I swear that I’ll do my damnedest to make them. Maybe I can twist it, paint the situation more desperate than it is, lie that the people are restless and that they demand the new Shogun to be crowned as soon as possible…”

“I’m going to start showing sooner or later…”, the to-be-Shogun peeped from behind her heroic protector, still in disbelief and staring down at her stomach, “How does this help?”

“Once you are the Shogun I can figure something out, but first we have to stick you up on that chair.”, she nodded at her, “One problem at a time.”

Slow and uncertain, Mikasa nodded back.

“One at a time.”

It would appear that while Kiyomi was anything but elated with her plan, she was going all-in right now. Same as the situation with Paradis – once she committed to a cause she was the best schemer and supporter one could ask for.

Excusing herself, Kiyomi left the two of them alone, already making a list of people she needed to talk to in her head.

The room grew quiet now that she was gone, the facts slowly anchoring themselves in their brains as reality.

“We are going to be parents.”, Eren finally said.

“So it would seem.”, Mikasa agreed in a whisper.

“And you are going to be a Shogun.”

“Yes.”

Turning around he pulled her into a hug that would be bone-crushing if used on anyone that wasn’t Mikasa Ackerman. She didn’t complain in the slightest, clutching to him with strength that squeezed the air out of Eren’s lungs.

“We are going to make it.”, he claimed, only for the statement to waver at the end, “Are we?”

She nodded against his chest, once again taking refuge in the beating of his heart.

“One thing at a time.”

The next ten days were one of the most chaotic that Mikasa ever lived through, and keep in mind that she was a survivor of not only a titan war but also an apocalypse. Kiyomi was a hyperactive bee, buzzing between the other council members and her at such speed that Eren wondered if she ever rested.

She didn’t.

There was hundred and one traditions Mikasa had to learn for the coronation process, a thousand dresses to try out, and million visits where she had to accompany Kiyomi while she convinced yet another noble that the ceremony should take place as soon as possible.

“If planning a wedding is anything like this,”, she hissed to Eren one day during the short break she had, shoveling food into her mouth “Then I’m never marrying you.”

“We are married already, did you forget?”, he grumbled from behind the mask that was his day-to-day accessory now, “Night under a tree, rings of grass, cracked bed frame… all that.”

“I wish this ceremony could also be made by weaving together a few blades. Do you think that I should ask Kiyomi about that?”

He chuckled.

“You can try.”

No, Kiyomi was not amused, and no, grass was out of the question. Very well.

Eren shadowed her almost everywhere, as a Faceless guard he was permitted to even the most private meetings. The other, true members of the order, didn’t give him any problems either, being exactly as obedient as Kiyomi described them. If the future Shogun wanted a fake to protect her, they had no issue with that. The orders were absolute.

Worst case scenario – the girl gets assassinated and then a new Shogun will be chosen, one that will respect the proper Faceless guard and not a wannabee.

And finally, it was here, the day D, the grand happening. Mikasa’s body moved mechanically through the ritual – every motion was explained and trained hundred times over until Kiyomi was satisfied. Still, it was fairly difficult in the ornamental kimono she had to wear, the damn thing was so heavy that she almost tripped several times, despite all the practice. Having a skirt around her legs made Mikasa wish for a good pair of pants too, but gender wouldn’t save her here. The men of the council also wore very similar robes. It was a small price to pay for getting things in motion though, so Mikasa gritted her teeth and carried on.

Eren was there as well, of course, and so was Kiyomi. The old woman stood among the council members, looking exactly as important as her fellow nobles, while Eren was hiding in the shadows, one of a long line of Faceless who guarded this ceremony. It would not be disturbed by anyone or anything, they made sure of that, and the number of guards played right into Mikasa’s hands. She could hide her lover easily now, he was nothing but another mask in the line, here to give his life in defense of the new Shogun.

Instructed by a priest that was so ancient that his skin resembled wrinkled paper, she repeated the words told to her, she bowed where required, and stood tall when it was time to show strength. She prayed to gods she didn’t know and showed respect to ancestors whose names Mikasa couldn’t even pronounce.

Several times the priest stopped and shook the incense he carried left and right, filling the air with its sweet smell. The council members watched every step like hawks, and she could feel their nervousness. It was one thing to talk about a foreign woman being elected as the head of state, it was another one to see it happening in front of their eyes. Luckily, she was prepared and did everything exactly as was expected, following the script to the letter.

Yes, it was one big theatre performance, but that didn’t matter to Mikasa at all.

Because when she finally sat down on the throne and looked over the council members, gathered there in front of her, Mikasa felt a huge weight fall from her chest. Her fights were still far from over, one might say. The position she was put in was anything but secure. Her pregnancy would complicate things, as would the fact that she had no intention of letting the nobles jerk her around. Eren's existence would have to be kept secret, same as the fatherhood of her child, and…

No, there would be time and place to worry about these things, and it was not now. One thing at a time, Kiyomi said, and Mikasa agreed with those words. The old woman was on her side, she had Eren right behind her, and a whole new culture to discover, one that her mother originated from. And as she adjusted her position on the throne, Mikasa Ackerman – the new ruler of Hizuru and the first female Shogun in the history of that nation – did that one thing that happened so rarely in her life.

Mikasa smiled - This was a beginning of a new adventure for them all.

[weirdthinkingdragon]

Pushed Temptations

Yandere Western Shouta x reader

Warnings of blood, guns, character death, uh… intended weapon harm to reader? Should that be a warning? Quirkless AU

IDEK if you can really call this a yandere. More like highly protective, which is kinda yandere I guess? All I know is I was in a really soft mood when writing the ending. Oops… 

It was rather quiet today at the bar. The only thing being the pianist playing their good old favorite tunes. No one seems to mind, and he offers to do the piano at a rather small price. Because of that, my boss decided to let him have a few drinks a day free. He was thankful but oddly declined. He’s definitely an older man, maybe in his 50s. I can’t for the life of me remember his name, but I do remember it starts with a T. He’s definitely an incredibly kind man though. 

I clean the glass of the customer that just left incredibly drunk. I don’t care much about doing this job, but I have to because the boss told me I could live here if I do. He knew my family and wanted to help me out after they were killed by bandits on their way home. He’s also worried about me being alone in case that happens to me as well. I don’t really care. We all die at some point anyway. I am rather angry with the bandits though. He wouldn’t let me decline. Seriously, he made two of his strongest bouncers come get me to bring me to him. I’m starting to think he only wanted me for his benefit. 

There was a rowdy few in the corner playing poker at the corner. I try to ignore them and stare at the doors to the entrance. One of the men at the table suddenly stands up, and storms out. He yells in fear after exiting. No one bats an eye since yelling is pretty normal around here. From fear? Not really, but it’s not my problem as long as it’s not in here.

It doesn’t take long to know why the man yelled in fear. A very feared outlaw enters through the doors. Shouta, the man feared by all. The only man that wears black everything, including his stetson. Well, the only thing not black was his bandana. That was a medium gray. He’s taken down multiple people at once, and so many Sheriffs and Bounty Hunters have been after him, which lead to their deaths. Only one person has ever been close to doing serious damage to him. From what I heard, they tried to become friends with him over a few days, got close enough, and tried to stab his eye with a knife. The swing hit, but not the way they hoped. The man was found dead a few days later with a bullet hole in his pants. He was shot in his thigh and left for dead overnight. The wolves got to him before he was found. 

A chill goes through the place as everyone goes silent and stares at him. They know to not bring their guns out. They stare in fear at him as he saunters up to the booth right in front of me. “Howdy stranger, what can I get ya?” 

“Whiskey.” Geez, even his voice is something to send chills down someone’s spine. I grab one of the glasses, fill it, and pass it to him. He goes to pass the money for it to me. I push it back towards him, leading him to have surprise on his face. 

“It’s on me. It’s a thank you for getting rid of that group of damn bandits that called themselves the “Iron Will”. It’s nothing to you, but they were a royal thorn in my side. I wanted revenge on myself for something they did.”

His face went back to being stoic, but he did grab the glass. I look at the entrance to see if anyone else entered. No. In fact, the ones at the table playing Poker booked it out of here, so it’s now just him, the pianist, and I. 

It stayed quiet between us for a bit. “You know, I don’t think you’re as bad as people say,” He raises the brow with the obvious scar under his eye, but says nothing. “From what I’ve heard, most, if not all, of the people you have killed have deserved it. Yes, even the Sheriffs. They’re usually corrupt themselves anyway.”  

“...You talk a lot.” He’s too hard to read to know what he’s truly thinking. 

I shrug. “It ain’t much. It just gets pretty boring around here, especially since I’d honestly rather be doing anything else.  Kinda forced to be here,” I glare off to the side. “Thank the damn bandits for that one,” I lock eyes with him again. “Uh… nevermind. Enjoy the rest of your whiskey.” I say and go over to the table the rowdy people were t and grabbed their glasses. It might be best to not bother him much more. Maybe I’d be next. 

The blond stops playing the piano for now, and he locks eyes with Shouta. Shouta… Gives him a small nod?  They must know each other. That would just be further proof he doesn’t kill for no reason. 

He asked for another, which I gave him. The blond didn’t continue playing yet. He must be giving his fingers a break. Honestly? About time. That man’s been playing for the past three hours without a break. 

At least, it was peaceful until someone slammed the doors open in an obvious frantic state. It was my boss. He has a revolver… It was easy to tell what he wanted to do with it from the way he glares at Shouta. I don’t let worry show, even though I’m worried about him being shot by Shouta, which could easily happen. That and the blood would be hard to clean up. It always is on wooden floors, as well as I don’t have anywhere to go after since my home was already taken from being forced to be here.  “Ren, please put the gun away. We ain’t got time for blood to be spilled here.”

That got Shouta to turn around and notice the man. His hand hovers over the pistol in his belt. 

“You don’t tell me what to do! This man doesn’t belong here! I want him out! If the bouncers won’t, I’ll do it myself!”

I sigh. “Ren, please. The bouncers left an hour ago. You know you don’t stand a chance, and I really don’t want to clean blood off the floor tonight,” He’s still frantically waving the gun around like a child proud of a new toy. “He also hasn’t done anything.”

“Hasn’t done anything!? He killed Mizuki!” Mizuki? Where have I- oh. That wretched man.

“Isn’t he that man that kept forcing himself on women?” 

“That doesn’t matter! He was still a great person!” … Is this man serious!? 

If I’m reading Shouta right, he wasn’t too happy about hearing that either. “Why the fuck am I stuck working for you?” I whisper to myself. It’s not loud enough for Ren to hear thankfully. He would have blown his mind if he heard me. In speaking of a blown mind, he’s about to get his mind blown to bits for real. “I’m sorry for his actions. I'm also sorry, but would you mind leaving without spilling blood? I know it's stupid to ask, but I'm sure you know just how hard blood is to get off of things." I lean a bit over the counter. 

"Stop being a pathetic bootlicker! He ain't deserving of it! Get. Out!" 

"You're always welcome here otherwise." I whisper. Ren didn’t hear it, but I’m pretty sure Shouta did as he turned to lock eyes with me for a second before slamming the glass down and turns to glare hard at Ren. I don't even need to see his face to know. The fearful shaking of my boss shows. He stands up, and heads towards the door. He shakily points the gun at Shouta, but he doesn't even bother grabbing his pistol, just keeps his eyes on Ren. Ren is angering me right now, disturbing the peace between the three of us here. Also for being a darn hypocrite of sorts for not being able to be brave for pointing a gun at Shouta, even though he’d make others do it if they were around. 

Ren steps away from the door as Shouta exits. It doesn't take long for the loud pounding of horse hooves to drift away until they’re no longer heard. 

Ren puts his gun away, but glares at me. "Why did you not tell him to leave when he entered!? Men like that ain't welcome around here.”

I look at him like he's stupid, probably because he is. "What in tarnation did you want me to do about it? Money is money, ain't it? Even then, a simple person such as I had no chance against a man such as that. Do you even see a gun around me!?”

He swears under his breath. “Close up early.” He leaves. ??? What? Just comes in here to disturb us for that? It’s confirmed, he’s not stable. 

Despite everything I could do, I decided to just listen and close it early. I grabbed the glass Shouta used, and started to clean it. 

“You’re right you know,” I stop cleaning the glass and look at the blond. “About Shouta. He’s a kind man, just given odd cards for his life. All it takes is one bad doing to make someone thrown in the dark. He’s saved me more than once before. Unfortunately, one time he did accidentally kill a good man. Hizashi was his name. At least, that’s what everyone believes. Someone else shot him, but pinned the blame on Shouta. Everyone believed the other man before they believed him. There’s no way he’d purposefully kill his friend though. Sure, Hizashi was a troublemaker at times, but he had a heart of gold. Friendly to all.”

My brows crease. “Why have I never heard about this?” This seems like something that really should be known.” 

He grows a saddened expression. “Many have simply chosen to forget or listen to him. Shouta gave up trying to convince people and just accepted his new way he has to live.” 

I’m angry at people for doing this to him, and also sad for him. Just thinking about how bad and painful it would to be not be listened to when telling the truth and no one believes me would be devastating. 

He leaves, and I leave a bit after finishing cleaning up.

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

For the past few months, Shouta has visited a few times. Luckily, Ren never came around, so he must be rather stealthy coming here now. I’m sure he comes for the free drinks. Who wouldn’t use that offer? I also started staying open a bit later than normal just for him. Still pretty sure he doesn’t like me too much from constantly trying to talk to him more with no success. Only a few nods or shakes of his head as replies. 

Tonight was no different. I kept it open late on the twelfth day of the month. He’s had a pattern of coming on this specific day. Toshinori, the man I finally remember the name of, left not too long ago. I’m all alone now. The eerie silence is rather unnerving when being so used to hearing the piano playing so often. 

Sadly, he doesn’t enter the saloon after a while of waiting. Maybe he’s busy tonight? Or maybe he got injured? There’s no way he could have been caught, right? I really hope not. I close the saloon and start to head home. It’s really late at night with the moon at its highest point in the  sky. It’s a full one tonight, showing everything around me rather brightly.  I pass a house on my way to mine, only to be suddenly slammed into the wall of it. 

There was a familiar face to the body. Ren!? He holds a gun right up to my neck. His breath is shaky and obviously full of anger. “You… Stupid… Did you really think you could keep going against my back without me finding out!?” He pushes the gun harder on my neck. “I really hoped to be wrong that you were helping that.. Filth of a man. Oh no. No, no, no, no! You’ve not only kept serving him, you’ve been doing it free. You deserve to be fucking executed for that!” 

He wasn’t alone. There were three other silhouettes that revealed themselves as men in the shadow of the building next to this one. They were close friends of his, and I’m pretty sure I remember the one farthest from me being rather close to Mizuki. The situation started to show, and fear quickly started rising. I’m going to die. “No, you deserve to be killed now for stealing from me! I give you a place to stay, and you steal! I should have left you to the bandits.” He seethes. 

“Heh, I reckon we use ‘em as bait. We could pin the blame on them instead, and maybe their new “friend” will be angry enough to kill them. He’s had no problem killin’ people close to him before”  Ren grows a sadistic smile. “You know? That’s the best idea!” He leans dangerously close to my face. My body recoils at the stench of his breath. It’s foul enough for my stomach to want to release everything in it. 

The sound of two guns being cocked brought my attention to behind the man farthest from me. It’s Shouta. “There’s one problem with that plan.” He says. His tone seems a bit sharper than what I’ve heard though. 

All the men sharply turn around with their guns held, pointing at Shouta. 

“Oh, hey, Shouta. Sorry for-” Ren pushes the gun hard enough on my neck that it cuts me off from talking. “Shut it.” 

I’ve never seen Shouta’s face so angry before. “Let them go, and maybe you’ll be spared.” He nearly hisses, but is trying to stay level-headed. 

Ren suddenly starts laughing. “Aw, does the murderous outlaw have a big ol’ soft spot for this pathetic thing? How touching!” His finger on the trigger twitches. “Just makes me want to kill them more!” 

Gunfire rang out. Something warm hits my face. I cringe at the quick realization it’s Ren’s blood. Ren’s body collapses to the ground. The others try to shoot at Shouta, but he dodges them all and shoots all of them through their heads. People’s lights started to turn on and others were coming out of their houses to see the commotion. 

Shouta holsters his guns and whistles for his horse. A black Arabian runs up right next to him. “Thanks for saving me. You might want to leave though before you get more involved.” I try to walk away, but he grabs onto my arm, pulling me towards his horse. “What are you doing!?” I ask as he pushes me towards his horse. 

“Something I should have done months ago. Get on.” What is he making me do? People will get the wrong idea if they see me with him.

“But-” 

He nudges me by the horse again. “Get on.” I comply with a bit of difficulty from not used to being on a horse. He then gets on the saddle in one quick movement. The horse takes off as bullets from others whiz by us. I hug his rather well-toned torso to hold on. Luckily, none of them hit as we got far enough away.

It doesn’t take long for us to get to a house that looks abandoned. It was a rather small house with only a window on the front right next to the door. It’s hidden incredibly well by a few large hills. 

He gets off the horse, ties the reins up, and nudges me towards the small house. "Why did you make me come with you? Now people will get the wrong idea." 

He opens the door and allows me in first. Moonlight sone through the window enough to make the inside visible. On the left is a decent sized bed that seems a bit worse for wear, but still sturdy with rather clean looking sheets. The only other things in here was a wardrobe against the wall farthest from the door, and a chest under the window on the right side. “They would have gotten the wrong idea anyways. It wouldn’t have been the first time.” He ends up saying with his voice a bit strained. No doubt he’s remembering his friend. 

He closes the door, and surprisingly, hugs me from behind. “Not again. I’ll make sure of it.”

I quirk a brow. The attention isn’t unwelcomed, but quite a surprise.. “You DO know I could have been shot as we left, right?” I ask. Wrong thing to say. His arms tightened substantially as he buried his head in my neck. 

“They’d all be dead.” 

“Wait, but they wouldn’t have done anything.” A bit of fear laced through me. Not for me, but for the others. 

“Someone injuring or threatening you deserves death.” 

“You’re supposed to be a good outlaw, what happened?” I ask, already kind of knowing the answer, and angry with myself for being so nice in the first place. 

“Today happened. Those… things that nearly harmed you were right with their thoughts. No matter what I do, everyone is going to think I’m bad. It’s time for me to be a bit selfish for once. That selfish want is wanting you close to me.” 

My heart is torn between melting at how cute that kind of is to still being fearful for others. 

“That’s sweet and all, but you and I both know this isn’t gonna work for many reasons. One being we both can’t keep riding the same horse. It ain’t fair to the poor thing.” I felt him smile on my neck. 

“We’ll get you one at some point. Judging from your struggling earlier, we have a ways to go first.”

I smile. This could be fun. What’s not fun is the mostly dry blood cracking on my face. “Sounds like fun, but uh… Got anything to clean this blood off?” 

He tenses. “Blood?” The way he said it made me wish I didn’t say anything about it. He stops hugging me and turns me around, closely examining my face. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine. It does feel gross though.” 

Within a blink of an eye, he pulls out a rag and goes over to the chest to see a rather large jug of water. He dips it in the jug and comes back to wipe it off my face with a deep frown on his face. 

In an odd form of suddenly feeling silly, I poke his nose with my right pointer finger. He blinked in surprise at me. He grows a soft smile that almost doesn’t seem suiting of him. It makes me chuckle. 

“You know, It’s surprising to me you actually care. Or uh… Love me? Or whatever it really is. For the longest time I could swear you hated me.”

“I did at first,” Okay, points for honesty. “I expected you to be like an earlier nuisance I had to take care of. That changed especially after my third visit. I noticed you weren’t acting like it just to me. You were genuine with everyone. Toshinori helped by informing me more of your... issue that you told e a bit about,” He leans in close, fully cutting the conversation. “I think this is long overdue.” His lips touch mine. It was a really quick kiss that I barely had time to register. 

I smirk. “So you DO love me, or am I looking too much into it?” 

He’s not amused. “You already know the answer to that.”

Now I know I have a deadly outlaw that loves me. I guess in a way I should thank Ren. 

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

#yandere western shouta #yandere mha x reader #shouta x reader #western au #outlaw shouta #yandere shouta aizawa

[fuzziemutt]

Do You Understand ?

Chapter 8/9 - Link to MasterList in reblog

Summary: One more apology to go...

tw: unhealthy thinking. This one is also much lighter than the previous.

Connor took a deep breath. His coin flicked back and forth, leg bouncing methodically, body thrumming with an added anxious energy he wasn’t expecting to feel. He was just going to talk to Hank, Hank would... understand. Sure the old man got upset when Connor did anything “stupid” (or died) but everything would be fine. 

He was in an automated taxi making its way to the Ambassador Bridge where, on a whim, he messaged Hank he would meet up with him in two hours. The meeting with the leaders was just yesterday and it spurred him to fix things with Hank while he still felt (brave) optimal enough to do so. Nines wasn’t with him this time; he thought of asking him to join, but Connor felt this was too personal and had to do it on his own. He really hoped he didn’t regret this.

Arguably, this really wasn’t a good time to do this. Connor warily glanced out the window for the 50th time, watching the way the snow piled ever higher with the clouds threatening to release more of the terrible substance. Usually he was able to keep his stress levels relatively low, low being closer to 50 than 20 if he was honest, ever since the snow started up again roughly a month ago. However, today’s weather with the meeting from yesterday, the looming anniversary of his second deployment, and now his self assigned meet up with Hank didn’t help how nervous he felt about this all. He should have asked to meet at Hank’s house, but he felt that was crossing an invisible boundary even if he still kept Hank’s house key on him at all times. 

But he had to do this now as he knew he would go back to hiding if he didn’t, so he just kept pushing the fridgid memories down.

Before long, the taxi rolled to a stop, perfectly parked, uncaring of the android who needed another minute of breathing and rapid coin flicks till he climbed out. Hank wasn’t there yet, but Connor pushed down the spike of panic. The roads were still being cleared from the morning snow, it was fine, Hank also was human and couldn’t predict just how long it took to get everywhere. It was going to be fine. He needed to be careful with his stress levels today.

He made his way over to the bench he hasn’t seen in a long time. With that energy still thrumming, he went about pacing, almost jogging to get rid of the excess energy. He was all alone so he didn’t worry too much about being caught and just kept an eye out for that familiar Oldsmobile. The moment he caught its grey color getting closer, he made himself go and sit down on the bench staying as still as possible. He tried to not look too tense and instead inviting, he didn’t want to set Hank off about his internal struggles. This was about them, not about his past after all.

“Was kinda surprised to see your text,” a gruff voice said after the tell tale thunk of a car door closing. It sounded like Hank was trying to lighten the mood with the awkward laugh that followed, but the lack of response made the silence return. 

Hank came into Connor’s view not too long after that, awkward shuffling before he settled on the bench next to him. A bit of space between the two. Connor wasn’t sure where to start. Who should be apologizing here? He felt like he was supposed to be for some reason despite Hank having been the one who hurt him. This was confusing. Maybe he should have asked Nines to come with…

“So.. what’s up?” Hank offered up after a couple minutes. He was clearly uncomfortable if the way he kept glancing at Connor and his hands kept messing with his jacket said anything.

“I… I’m not sure how to go about this.”

“Go about what exactly?”

“This? I want… to fix our relationship.. I miss. I miss our conversations… and Sumo,” Connor ventured very unsure where to go. He added the last bit to lighten the mood, but it was also the truth. He hasn’t seen the dog since he moved out. 

Hank nodded and sat there thinking. He would be better at going about this Connor didn’t doubt.

“I won’t lie. I’m not the best at ‘emotional stuff’ like this, but I can see you’re strugglin’ so…” 

A chin scratch then throat clearing, “I know deviancy hasn’t been the easiest on you especially from what I could tell Cyberlife was like. I don’t know what happened that made you shut us all out for so long though. Would you mind telling me what the hell happened at that meeting before we go any further?” 

Oh. Oh yeah he never told Hank what happened did he? He knew Hank talked to Markus.. He didn’t think Markus would have left it vague. He honestly thought the leader would have laid out all the details for everyone to see. Interesting. He’s just stalling for time now.

“I wasn’t lying about how we were discussing what we would be doing with the androids that react negatively towards humans. I was suggesting that we make safe zones where humans would not be able to enter when North got upset,” Connor felt his hands clench together and nose wrinkle a bit, “She went on saying how I had no place in the conversation as I never supposedly have had bad relations with humans since I was so close to you. She said how I would never be able to.. Understand… their struggles.”

He let himself close his eyes and take a breath before continuing. There was no point in getting himself worked up again here.

“For the past several months, I’ve been treated time and time again like I have no say in anything. As if I never experienced emotions or the extent of cruelty humans can have. The constant use of that word it.. I felt something snap inside of me, and I let out my anger on them. I was too upset from months of frustration to stop myself. Afterwards, in a way I saw to protect myself from that horrible feeling, I shut everyone out.” 

He couldn’t stand to look at Hank anymore, taking up staring at the river instead. The river didn’t have eyes that could hold judgement. Distantly he was a bit surprised he managed to even say all of that so steadily.

“I see. Is that why you uhh.. Moved out of the house so quickly?” 

“Partially…” he caught a hand motioning ‘go on’ in the corner of his visuals. 

“You also did it. Using the word and discounting me. I mean. I wanted to be alone to process what happened and keep myself safe as mentioned, but I.. I didn’t want to do the same thing to you as well. So I left before I made anything worse.”

Connor closed his eyes ready for some sort of reprimand. He wasn’t sure why he expected to get punished when Hank had asked what happened, but he couldn’t help the dread that was sitting in his already anxious internal cavity. 

A muffled ‘fuck’ caught his attention and he opened his eyes again. Glancing over he saw that Hank was rubbing a hand on his face, looking at the ground with some sort of expression Connor couldn’t place. His eyes suddenly glanced up, looking into Connor.

“Look, kid. I’m sorry for what I’ve said,” mentally Connor ticked another mark of hearing the word sorry, “I know I still have my own issues to work through, but I should have watched what I said better. And before you go all ‘you couldn’t have predicted’ or whatever, it’s no excuse. I’m a grown ass man who should have seen how I was hurting you.” 

A sigh and another round of face rubbing. A nervous tick maybe? 

“I’m not going to pull you under the bus either by saying you should have told me you were feeling that way. Because I think we both know that whatever Cyberlife did fucked you up real good, and you never would have said shit as long as you could. So. I fucked up and I can’t guarantee I’ll do better, but I sure as hell will try.” 

Connor let those words settle a bit. He didn’t look as openly sorry as Nines but his eyes spoke more volume. Hank has been there since the revolution. He wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine obviously, he still had bad days and relapses, but he did try. He helped Connor whenever he asked what seemed like obvious questions about emotions and human interactions. He would get Connor’s mind off the past on bad days, awkwardly but still there. 

“I accept your apology. I’m not sure if I can say I can trust you the same amount as before, but I don’t want to push you away anymore.”

Hank’s shoulders slumped in relief a bit and a one sided smile joined it. It didn’t last long as he soon looked around, hesitant about something.

“Would… Would you want to move back in?” 

“No.. not now.. I’m not sure if I ever would like to move back with you, Hank. I miss the feeling of home your house brings me but I.. I’m still scared of getting hurt again. I also enjoy the privacy my apartment brings me.” 

Hank seemed to slump a bit from what he assumed was sad disappointment, but he nodded seriously. 

“I’ll still visit when I get the chance. I wasn’t lying when I said I miss Sumo,” Connor kind of blurted a bit quickly. He didn’t want his friend thinking he was only going to tolerate him at work.

A gruff laugh, “He misses you too, son” and a hand messing up Connor’s gelled hair (which he did not mope about in any sense). 

-

The lingering dread and fear from the snow lasted with him the whole time him and Hank spoke after that. But it wasn’t as overwhelming. Hank didn’t stay much longer, getting up complaining about how he was too old for this shit and needed to get home before his joints shattered which Connor helpfully informed at what temperature that could actually happen. 

Connor did accept the offer for a ride to his apartment. He turned down the offer to see Sumo. He wanted to see the big lump of fur, but he used up a lot of energy trying to keep his stress levels stable all day and wanted to rest by himself for a bit. Hank didn’t take too much offense to it it seems at least.

#i write #dbh #detroit: become human #connor rk800 #hank anderson #connor angst #connor whump

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

sleepwalking

summary: could you do a reddie x daughter where all the losers watch a horror movie and she convinces them she won’t get scared but she’s obv scared so they tease her abt it the whole night but then when they go to bed she starts sleep walking and richie get terrified and screams running upstairs and he has to literally pay eddie not to tell the other losers

The kernels crunch under footsteps, left over from their night in with the losers and his family, and Richie just about dies. Richie is not often spooked, can’t afforded to be after what Pennywise did to them as kids and how fast they had to react to survive the encounters, scared shitless or not, although he got plenty of practices getting over initial frights when their daughter was just three months old and awoke them out of a deep sleep every night with her piercing cries.

Tonight though, he finished watching three horror films, and he’s downstairs in the pitch-black with his daughter and Eddie both already retreated upstairs. He’s alone on the bottom floor, having decided He was going to write down a few jokes that occurred to him during the evening, like Bill trying to drink his sofa without taking the lid of, and his Rose pretending not to be scared by the movie, even if she had to cover her face with her hands every time the music picked up.

It’s not the first, nor will it be the last, time that he’s stayed behind while Eddie and Rose turn in. The night time seems to spark his creativity better than the day ever does, but it is the first time someone else comes creeping. He knows it’s not Eddie. When Eddie has to get up to get a drink during the night, he’ll do his best to stay quiet, but always falters on the second to last step that creeks loudly throughout the otherwise solemn house. He curses himself over it every time.

The second to last step didn’t produce any sound tonight, but still Richie can pick up on heavy breathing, just outside the kitchen he’s positioned in. Suddenly, the films he bravely -and foolishly- selected are having him imagine all sorts of creepy and ominous things.

His phone, perched to the side of him, lights up. So far, Richie has been listening, trying to distinguish what the sounds are without having to face the possible danger, but now he sees Eddie is calling him from upstairs, his heart sink and he switches into protection modus. He doesn’t stop to answer the phone, but walks towards their cabinet where they stash all the sharp objects - Rose may be 14 already, the habit sticks - and grips the largest one they have.

His hands are shaking, flashbacks of Pennywise are infiltrating his thoughts, but he bans them to the same dark corner they’re always supposed to reside in. He can’t think of that now, not while he needs to protect the ones he loves.

He gears up, preparing to lunch at whoever is waiting for him, but a sudden hand on his shoulder scares him.

He yelps, louder than he ever had, and rips away from the dark figure. The dark figure turns out to be Eddie, who looks about two seconds away from slaughtering Richie to death, despite the latter having no idea why. Richie’s chest heaves, and with his entire body shaking as the aftershocks of the fright leave him, he has momentarily forgotten the threat in the other room.

‘Eddie?’ He asks confused, blinking up at him.

‘No, the fucking demon that lives in this house asshole. Of course it’s me.’ A chuckle escapes Richie’s lips without his intent, but it dies down quickly and withers away after it’s met Eddie’s scornful gaze. ‘I told you to keep it down, rose is sleepwalking again. You know not to wake her.’ Suddenly, the noises in the other room make sense.

‘Fuck’, Richie curses, slapping a flat palm to his forehead in discontent. ‘I thought it was fucking burglar or something Eds.’

One of Eddie’s eyebrows twitch up, unimpressed. ‘So you dismiss the obvious that it’s either me or our daughter, but you jump straight to a burglary?’

‘Well... in that movie-‘

‘Oh for fuck sake Richie’, Eddie laughs. ‘the movie you insisted didn’t scare you and wouldn’t scare Rose?’

‘It didn’t scare me’, Richie defends, even though the trembles in his voice and his earlier rapid doom scenario thinking suggests otherwise. ‘It just had a lot of scenes that could happen in real life.’

Eddie clearly has more to say, more disgustingly covered up affectionate nicknames to throw around, but another voice, confused and hazy with sleep speak up from the other room.

‘Dad? Pops?’

Instantly, the petty argument between Richie and Eddie is forgotten, and they run in to check up on Rose. It isn’t the first time that she’s sleepwalked in the middle of the night, and it unfortunately won’t be the last, but there’s usually a reason as to why it happens. An overload of stress for example, or the overthinking of a mundane task that was, in hindsight, easily done. Richie’s a little unsure about what set this episode off, he doesn’t recall Rose mentioning anything out of the ordinary.

He’s face blazes and Ashley white when he begins to wonder whether or not a scary movie can set it off, and that he was the one who allowed her to watch it.

He stores the question as to why somewhere far in the back of his mind to revisit later, which he will do, extensively. Right now the most important thing is making sure Rose is alright.

In her daze she stumbled on over into the living room, sitting on the edge of the table glass with her eyes closed gently swaying back and forth. If Richie didn’t know any better, he’d think she was intentionally mimicking the film earlier in the evening. She’s still asleep, but her lips mumble words not loud enough to be tangible.

Eddie puts a single digit before his mouth, silencing Richie before the other has time to mutter something. People who sleepwalk need to be awoken gently, not by brute force or a simple wake up, because the changes environment might spook them. Richie is all about pranking his daughter, but he will never wake her up out of her daze for a quick laugh.

‘Rose’, Eddie whispers, starting to shake her slightly harsher than she’s already doing herself. Richie positions himself behind her, ready to catch in the case that she jumps and falls to the ground. Luckily for all of them, Rose isn’t deep in trance, she startles awake from the bare minimum Eddie was doing.

‘Dad, pops?’ She asks disorientated, rubbing away the sleep in her eyes. ‘Did I do it again?’

‘Yeah sweets,’ Richie says,’how are you feeling?’

‘Tired, the usual.’

‘You’re sure? You have to tell us if something else is wrong okay?’ The first time Rose sleepwalked, she ran into a cabinet and injured her ankle, and she kept it a secret from Richie and Eddie. When Eddie found out, he had been rightfully worried.

‘I promise dad’, Rose reassured him. Squeezing his hand. ‘I just want to go to bed. Wait, why are you two down here? Did I cause another ruckus?’

‘No honey, your pops-‘

‘Was just telling your dad about that fancy new car he was going to buy him.’ He tries to signal to Eddie as discrete as possible, but his frantic eyes are probably giving everything away. Still, he hopes Eddie has mercy on him, at least this once, because Rose will never let him live it down that he got scared by his own hand. God, Richie shudders, he can already picture the blackmail material she would have when she gets older and asks him something Eddie forbade her to do.

Eddie smirks, but he says nothing for now, most likely plotting how he can drag this out the longest to torture Richie.

‘Off to bed now, come on. I’m too old to skip my naps like this.’ Richie inches Rose forward by her shoulders, both to spur her on and to make sure she’s stable enough not to fall over. Richie doesn’t understand that much about sleepwalking, he’s not as smart or intuitive as Eddie is, but he is pretty sure it means she’s still half asleep while moving, and that always uphold a risk.

They make it up the stairs in one piece, low lighting and all, and Eddie parts from the father-daughter duo to go back to their bedroom and doze off for the night. Richie lingers, as he always does whenever he tucks Rose in. Every day, he praises himself lucky for the all opportunities he’s gotten after Derry, from Eddie and the losers to his job and Rose. He can’t believe it all happened to him, so he likes to take a moment to soak it all up.

‘Richie,’ Eddie beckons him over, because though he knows how much his husband cherishes his life, he also knows Rose is a child who is tired and needs her 8 hours of sleep at night.

‘Coming,’ Richie mumbles, pressing down one last kiss to Rose’s and making silly faces to ridicule Eddie in good fun. ‘You’re dad is so bossy’, he complains to Rose, who giggles but shakes her head loyally.

‘Careful, he might hear you and then you’ll be in big trouble pops.’

‘Do not mimic me in front of our daughter Richard. I’m warning you.’

‘I’m telling you he has a wire placed on me at all times’, Richie jokes, patting himself down to sell the joke home. ‘Anyway, Goodnight bug’

‘Goodnight. Oh, and Pops?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You don’t have to pretend not to be scared for my sake, I could see you cover you eyes during the scary parts.’ She turns on her side, facing away from her door and where Richie is standing, though the smirk on her face suggest she’s all too aware of she put Richie in his place. He can’t bring himself to be upset about it, she’s too much like Eddie for it to do anything but endear him.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #eddie imagine #richie tozier imagine #adult Richie #richie x daughter #reddie x daughter #eddie x daughter