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to-a-merrier-world · 4 years

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TEDDY HI okay I think I'm late but I would love to hear about DC Spiderman, love and other ways to die (the jay one at the end), aaaaaand Zuko accidental baby acquisition!!

LYSS! hi! lol

ok, so, DC Spider-man is, essentially, what it says on the tin--an AU where the powers of the multiverse that be decide to stick a Peter Parker into a DC universe, and things go a little differently for him. He still gets bit when he’s 15 and his uncle still gets shot, but Ben doesn’t die--instead, he goes into a coma for a few months. During that time, Peter takes on his Spider-man persona to deal with his guilt (and the fact he doesn’t know if his uncle will die or not). Eventually, Ben recovers, but Peter continues to be Spider-man. Ben and May find out a year later, and while things are tense for a while, they eventually accept it and help him out (such as with his webshooters).

Anyways, the beginning of the fic partially follows some points of the “Justice League: War” movie. Peter ends up meeting Superman, Batman, and Green Lantern when they go crashing through New York fighting each other. At the time, Peter is 18 and a senior in high school. I also get a huge kick out of Bruce being younger than people expect, so he’s only 22. Here’s a lil excerpt I wrote:

“Spider-Man, don’t fight him,” the man in black growled.

He glanced back at him and saw he’d climbed back to his feet. He was holding a weird, glowing box that basically screamed ‘Danger, Will Robinson!’ But the man himself didn’t set Peter’s sense’s off.

He was in a get up similar to Superman’s, but in all black and with a mask that covered half his face. The mask had little points on top and he had an emblem on the front that looked like a…

Oh, Peter thought, eyes widening behind his mask.

The Batman.

Well, that saves me a trip to Jersey, he thought. And then—holy shit, the Batman knows about Spider-Man!!

and another, cause i think these are funny lol:

“Well?” Superman asked. His question was clearly addressed to Batman, but he was glaring daggers at Lantern.

Yeesh, Peter thought. If looks could kill… Wait. Superman has heat vision. His looks could actually kill! How does that even work, anyway? Does he just stare really hard, or is it like flipping a swi—Wait, stop, I need to pay attention, Batman’s talking.

“—antern and I chased it into the sewers. It exploded before we could find out anything, leaving this box behind. We deduced that both the creature and the box were likely of extraterrestrial origin. We agreed to reach out to you,” Batman gestured towards Superman, “to find out anything you knew, and tracked you here.”

“Because he’s an alien?” Peter asked, cocking his head.

“Uh, obviously?” Lantern replied. “Who else is going to know anything about aliens?”

Peter ignored him, carrying on with his line of thought.

“Is that, like, speciesism? Or racism towards aliens? Cause, I mean, I don’t know a lot about non-humans, but I feel like they probably don’t all know each other.”

Superman snorted, and when Peter looked, he was definitely suppressing a smile. Probably.

anyways, the fic is an elaborate excuse to force a friendship between Spider-Man and Batman (and Superman) and would basically follow them through the years (and possibly lead to romance between them? i hadn’t decided lol). Oh, and last 2 tidbits before i move on: Peter is trans, cause why the fuck not, and i was also seriously considering titling this “Spidey and the Bats” to only be read like the Elton John song “Bennie and the Jets”.

ok, on to the Ajin!Jason Todd AU

so, idk what you know abt ajin, so i’ll explain a bit. Ajin: Demi-Human is a manga/anime about Ajin, people who possess extreme regenerative abilities that trigger upon death or mortal injury, allowing them to completely recover from their wounds in a matter of seconds to such an exceptional extent that not only can missing limbs be restored, but Ajin can fully regenerate after being turned into literal meat patties. Additionally, Ajin can create "black ghosts", which are highly dangerous combat-oriented entities that are invisible to normal humans and only visible to other Ajin.

I tweak the idea, somewhat, because in this AU, the amount of time it takes you to come back can vary--especially the first time you regenerate. It gets faster the more times you do it, but it starts off slower. Jason is an Ajin, so when he dies by the Joker’s hand, he later regenerates--only, he does so much slower and more incomplete than other Ajin. His body is restored to how it was prior to dying, but somehow his mind got locked inside his black ghost. He ends up wandering around Crime Alley with his black ghost trailing him until another Ajin stumbles across him.

This new Ajin, Kay, realizes something’s wrong with Jason and tries to help by... “resetting” him aka killing him again. It ends up working, but it doesn’t exactly engender feelings of friendship between him and Jason. Kay is pretty weird, though, and doesn’t seem to mind Jason not trusting or liking him, and despite killing him like it was nothing, is actually a kind person. He’s also determined to explain Ajin to him and ensure the kid understands the potential danger he’s in (he’s very vague about it, though, cause Kay has Secrets lol).

Anyways, it turns into this whole superheroes (mostly the Bats) vs the government vs rogue Ajin, and Jason ends up thrown into the middle of it all. The beginning of the fic deals more with Jason and his family’s grief/guilt/trauma and Kay sorta just hangs out until shit starts hitting the fan and he’s forced to reveal some things about himself :3c

OKAY on to the last one, Zuko Accidental Baby Acquisition AU!

this one starts off write after Zuko Alone when Zuko is leaving that town where he met the little boy. He ends up coming across another town, but this one has been destroyed by the Fire Nation--it’s a literal battle ground. There are the bodies of Earth Kingdom soldiers and civilians left to rot in the sun with only the broken weapons and armor of Fire Nation soldiers to explain what happened here. Zuko is horrified and wants to leave, but he’s starving, so he has to go into the town to try to find something to eat.

The fires from the battle are still burning low when he starts searching the town, and eventually he hears the cry of a baby. he runs to investigate without thinking and comes across a woman with her eyes closed and so severely burned Zuko automatically assumes she’s dead. In her arms is a crying baby, red-faced and distressed, but otherwise looking unharmed. Zuko approaches and as he reaches for the baby, unsure what the hell he’s even doing, the woman opens her eyes. She can barely speak, but she asks Zuko to take her son--Kyo--and to bring him somewhere safe. Zuko agrees without thinking, wanting the woman to pass on with some amount of peace.

The woman dies and Zuko is now left with a baby. The story goes on with Zuko seriously struggling to care for a baby, not to mention his inner turmoil and the trauma of seeing that town and watching the woman die from burn wounds. Zuko, like in canon, follows Azula’s tracks, but because of Kyo he’s slower and ends up arriving just as Azula shoots Iroh. This time, while Zuko wants to say no to Katara’s offer of help, he’s stuck b/c he can’t care for Iroh AND Kyo, so he ends up accepting her help.

Which is also when the Gaang find out that Zuko, somehow, now has a baby. Katara also helps look the baby over, and it’s basically a really weird time for all parties. Eventually, the Gaang help Zuko, Iroh, and Kyo get settled in an abandoned house to recover, Aang insisting on leaving blankets and food behind (mostly for Kyo and Iroh’s benefit).

Anyways, the story goes on and Zuko, who had planned to just leave the baby at an orphanage in Ba Sing Se, ends up wanting to keep Kyo (he gets attached and feels responsible for him, and can’t just let him go). Things, obviously, go differently with a baby involved, and Zuko doesn’t end up betraying the Gaang/Iroh like he does in canon because of Kyo.

but yeah, that’s it lol, sorry this is so long, i got carried away

#i'm sorry this is way more than you likely expected alsdknf #wip #mine #ask #jason todd #ajin #peter parker #batman #spider-man #zuko #atla #lookforaspookynewangle

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thetoffeefox · 5 years

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“You, me, popcorn, and this 2 liter bottle of Dr. Pepper, you in?” Nero x Reader

Hey guys! So I dedicate this @dylan-o-yumm who has seem to be having a rough time as of late and wanted some Nero fluff. I hope this helps dear and I hope you enjoy it!

It was one of those days, those days being the first Friday of the month so your job at the local grocery store was a nightmare. You loved your job any other day of the month but this day was one that you loathed. It was a day where all the metaphorical and sometimes literal crazies came out to get their month worth of sustenance and go back in their hole only to not re-appear till the next month. These people would leave an impact on you for the next week. Whether it was Karen and her binder full of coupons that took forever for her to sift through and sometimes they didn’t work because of the computer system or crazy Jennifer who believes the moon landing was faked. Thankfully, though your shift was over and you could almost feel the soft sheets and plush mattress of your bed. It was so close, a block away in fact and as you trudged up the steps of your apartment complex, you realized one crucial thing about today that you forgot about; it was movie night….Fuck. You, Nico, and Nero always went to the movies every Friday night. It was something you enjoyed and typically you could unwind by watching a movie. Going to the movies involved many things you didn’t want to do, like taking a shower, changing clothes, and most of all leaving your home...again. Once inside you dropped your purse on the floor and not even a second later your home phone began to ring. Don’t answer it, if you don’t answer it you won’t have to go out. You tell yourself this. If you don’t answer it, they will think you are at work and staying over your hours to help. As the phone rung though you felt guilt crawl up in you. Damn your desire, to be honest, and truthful. Hopefully, both of them understand when you tell them you just can’t tonight. Picking up the phone you bring it to your ear clearing your throat it’s enough for Nero’s sensitive hearing to pick up.

“Hey, you ready we’re on our way?” His voice was full of his usual happiness with this routine get together.

“Um...Yeah...I’m not feeling it today guys.” You state.

“Not feelin it!?! You kidding me girl we’ve been waiting for this movie for a month!” Nico exclaims, damn it, why did Nero have the phone on speaker?

“I’m sorry guys...it was” You sigh and continue “A long day.”

“All right,” Nico grumbles making you chuckle.

You talk longer with the two of them explaining how your day went, asking how there’s was. It was hectic and chaotic from a mass amount of demons that still lived in abandoned tunnels and mines from the Qliphoth incident. All that mattered though was they got out alive, he got out alive and unharmed. Getting off the phone you feel heat spread on your cheeks and your heart pound. It never failed, the worried state Nero could throw you in and the relief you would feel when you learned he got out unharmed always made the little (huge) crush you had on him flare up. You grew up with him, Kyrie, and Credo. Out of all three of them, you were the youngest and that made both boys when they were kids protect you like something fierce. Groaning you flop on the couch trying to calm your pounding heart. At some point, you must have fallen asleep because the next thing you remember is jolting up from the sound of a knock on your door. You let out a groggy grunt heading to the door. Barely noting that it was now 9:30 pm. Who the hell could be here this late? Opening the door blue eyes meet yours, Nero…

“Hey, so I was thinking...uh...You, me, popcorn and this two liter of Dr.Pepper, you in?” He asks flicking his eyes away in nervousness.

Looking at the grocery bag in his hand you realized he wasn’t lying about the box of popcorn and the 2 liter of Dr.Pepper. Dear god how were you going to drink all that...well you knew really it would not be you drinking all of it, it’d be him. Biting your lip you glance at the clock on your wall...what movie could you two even watch? No, that doesn’t matter, here he was without Nico (where was she by the way?) snacks in tow wanting to watch a movie with you. A movie with just you, alone...In your apartment. Your cheeks heat up slightly and you give him the answer he was secretly hoping for by nodding. His eyes lit up like a kid during Christmas and it was one of the cutest things you could ever see from him. Once inside and settled in with a giant bowl of popcorn you guys start going through your collection of DVD’s figuring out what you wanted to watch. Once again this leads to the age-old debate about why you wouldn’t just size down and start using Netflix or Hulu and each time your response has always been that it is about the experience and nostalgia. There was something to say about taking a DVD out of its case and plopping it into the player. You felt like a little kid again. Almost, almost Nero had decided on a horror movie but much to your relief he picked an action one. Going to bed scared tonight was not something you wanted. However, you had laid out a chick flick making the man before you groan while you displayed a cheeky grin. So how were you guys going to decide what movie to watch? Well with a thumb war!! Nero looked at you deadpanned by the suggestion. You did realize he would probably beat you? Sighing you guys lock hands and thus begins the grueling fifteen-minute battle which resulted in him winning and you being a fuming mess. “At some point, you would think to choose something I’m not good at.” He chuckles out making your grumble more as you start the DVD. He was right, you’d think you’d learn by now not to suggest something that even involved a hint of using strength. Oh well.

* * *

The sound of an explosion makes Nero’s eyes snap open and just for a moment, he feels tense ready to jump into action and fight off an immediate danger. He quickly realizes that there is no danger though just the noises and voices coming from the TV. A scene flashed on the screen that you and he already saw. He fell asleep. He shifts a bit looking down at your form. You were fast asleep, and the sight was nothing short of beautiful, but it wasn’t what was making his heart race. It was your hand and fingers that were tangled in his. It was your head resting on his shoulder. He smiles and turns burying his nose into your hair. He loved your smell it was fresh and clean like wind and their subtle hints of something sweet like a flower. God, he just wanted to wrap you up in his arms and hold you all night long, every night. You weren’t ready yet though, so he would wait till you could say something to him. He would wait for the day that you mustered up the courage to tell him how you felt. He knew you would one day. He knew he could wait just a bit longer because it was moments like these that kept him looking forward to the one he wanted most. So with a smile, his lips brush your forehead and he settles his head lightly back onto yours before letting sleep claim him. His hand still being held by yours.

#I hope you love this dear!#I enjoyed writing this for you!#hope today is a bit better for you #Devil May cry #DMC5 #Nero #Nero x reader #I always took Nero as someone who would like Dr.Pepper #fluff

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steak-n-popotoes · 6 years

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Ashen Heart

This post is... actually really long

I’ve finally gotten Manceaux’s backstory written down, to the extent that I have actually planned. It’s a bit different from the kind of thing I write for Beef, but it’s exciting to challenge myself to improve every time I write, and gratifying to see myself improve (in my opinion at least).

Cold stone.

Hot pain.

Familiar sensations, both. It was the dull numbness creeping through Manceaux’s body that gave him fright, threatening to drag him under. He clung desperately to that hot pain and tried to force his face up from the cold stone, but his limbs refused to respond. Is this finally the night that he dies, facedown in his cold corner of the Brume? Seemed that way. Would he be welcomed into Halone’s lofty halls? Not likely. He had done naught to earn a place at the Fury’s bosom, so let the gutter be his grave. Hopefully it would serve better as a crypt than it did a hearth.

Yet perhaps the youth had assumed too soon, as while his senses slipped into darkness he was sure he could hear Her voice echoing down to him from the Heavens...

“...another one ... I can care for him ... him on the cart with the others...”

Cart? What? Surely the Fury could manage better accommodations...

Cold touch.

Hot pain.

Yet...

The pain was much subsided. He was either still dying... or being healed. Why? Where was he? Who would bother healing him? As Manceaux tried to push himself up off of his back the cold touch grew more firm and he was lightly pressed back into the bedsheets he could now feel.

“Ser you must rest.” A woman said.

There was no way Manceaux could pay a chirurgeon. He should leave and hope his wounds healed on their own as before-

“Ser, Please. The Dravanians’ raid is ended, your duty is fulfilled for the nonce.”

“Duty?” Taken aback, Manceaux turned to the source of the voice and laid eyes upon her. The chirurgeon was a young Elezen woman, near to his own age, and... beautiful. The light from the stone room’s nearby hearth set her bronzed skin aglow with warmth, her gentle face framed by neat, perfectly trimmed dark brown hair, with strikingly green eyes that spoke of verdant life and... genuine concern for Manceaux’s well-being. Her sad expression marred her otherwise lovely features.

“Your duty, Ser Knight, to defend Ishgard and her people? The dragon that must have inflicted your burns surely fled along with the retreat of its allies.”

“Dragon...”

“Yes, ser. Was your head perhaps struck during your battle? Are you feeling dizzy?”

“No, no. My head is likely unharmed.” Manceaux let himself lean back onto the pillows as directed. He had never been in a bed so soft. “I take it you’re not Halone, then?” he asked, hazarding another quick glance at her person as she turned to rummage through a cabinet for something.

“No, ser. Luckily for those of us you have protected this day, She has not yet set a place for you within Her halls.” She replied over the clinking of numerous bottles of medicines.

“I see. Ah... thank you.” He did not often have cause to be thankful, but this woman and her magics have likely just saved his life. With no small amount of guilt, he realized he did not have the heart to correct her assumption of his standing, or clarify that his burns had ben caused, yet again, by his failure to control the fire thaumaturgy spell he used every night to keep himself warm in his corner of the Brume. As the chirurgeon turned back toward him with some sort of poultice in her hands, Manceaux found he could no longer meet her gaze.

“This mixture should help cool the pain of your burns. I have already applied it to the majority of your wounds, but your chest suffered far worse than your arms. I must needs reapply this dose.” As she spoke, she carefully pulled the bedsheets back to expose the afflicted areas, and reached out to place her hands upon his chest once more. This prompted Manceaux to notice he had been half undressed during his treatment and sparked the embarrassment he had yet to feel when ogling the woman while she was unawares.

“Nonono! That’s fine, I can bear the pain just fine from here!”

Her pretty face twisted with further worry, twisting Manceaux’s heart along with it. “Ser, there is no need to hide your suffering from me, I have treated similar burns for many of the Holy See’s knights before-”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Manceaux stammered while rising painfully from the bed and reaching for a freshly cleaned shirt laid by the bedside, no doubt intended to replace the tatters he had rendered his own shirt into, “I can treat myself with no troubles from here. I have lived through far worse with far less to ease the pain.” Not entirely untrue. Much of his body still bore the faded burn scars from those blunders and his own fumbling treatments. “I assure you I am fully prepared to handle my own mess now.” He lied, pulling the shirt on to cover himself.

“But ser-”

“Please! Stop.. calling me ser.” Already regretting the outburst, Manceaux shut the heavy door behind him with a bang louder than he was anticipating and reluctantly made his way out of the warm healer’s quarters and back out onto the bare, cold stone.

Cold stone.

Hot pain.

Thes wounds were not serious. They certainly hurt, but as far as blowing himself up on accident went, Manceaux had endured worse nights. If he was lucky, they may not even scar. Though he supposed it would matter little, a drop of water in the sea of poor choices that was already written in his skin. That said... the Dravanians had attacked again today. Perhaps...

“Perhaps that woman is healing again today.”

After a short trip on foot, Manceaux was at her door once again. He had tried not to commit the way to memory, but had of course failed. He felt that he should be polite for once in his life and knock, but then again, on the pretense that he was only there because he was wounded, should he feign a sense of urgency? But would she

As Manceaux was deliberating on her doorstep, the chirurgeon quietly drew the door open. “Se-, er... you are returned.

With a slight start of surprise, he turned to face her doorway once more and found the woman herself staring back at him with those... charming green eyes. “Y-yes, I have. That is, I’ve been wounded once more and was wondering...”

“Please, come in.” She retreated from the door and could be heard going through her supplies from within.

Manceaux drew a brisk breath before entering the room of his own accord for the first time. His hasty retreat some nights ago had prevented him from noting much of detail about the somewhat cramped quarters, but it was rather apparent now that this woman likely lived and worked from the space both. Her personal touches could be seen upon the lively crackling hearth and in some small corners that housed some personal items unrelated to healing, such as a comfortable-looking chair and stack of reading materials, and some delicate knitting projects in process.

“You may lay down upon this bed as before. And please, remove your garment so I may apply the medicine properly myself.” the chirurgeon said, gesturing towards the bed further from these pockets of personality.

Manceaux nodded and laid himself out, doing as he was told somewhat sheepishly.

“These wounds are not quite so severe as those I treated for you some days ago. Unfortunately, I can see those wounds did not heal properly and have left you with scars, despite your reassurances.”

Manceaux’s face burned hotly enough to take his mind off of the burns across his chest. He probably should have expected a lecture. As she placed her cool hands across his chest and smoothed the soothing potion into said burns, his face burned yet hotter.

“That said... you must have been taking your training seriously if you have been suffering lighter wounds. For that I am thankful. I understand that you wish to be a stout protector, but you must prioritize your own health if you wish to see more growth from your efforts.”

Manceaux lightly grabbed one of her slim wrists, being careful not to harm her in any way.

“Ser, must we do this again after you sought me out of your own acc-”

“I’m sorry. I am no knight.”

“I-”

“I’m just another rat crawled up from the brume. I’ve never faced a Dravanian, and I would not have the ability to kill one were I met with no choice but to do so. I once learned a trick from a drunken traveler outside of the Forgotten Knight for a way to keep myself warm as a last resort for when I have nothing left to burn, but I have no way to control it. The burns you now treat were inflicted by my own foolish hand. I’ve never protected anyone, and I have nothing to protect but my own person, but the scars I bear are testament to my inability to do so.” The confessions just kept tumbling from Manceaux’s mouth, another damned thing he apparently couldn’t control to save his life.

When he seemed to be finished, and the chirurgeon had taken time to process his words, she finally responded. “I knew... most of this, when I directed the men helping me find our injured knights to collect you.” She collected herself some before speaking once more. “My name is Violette de Haillenarte. My uncle, Lord of House Haillenarte, has always been adamant that our House find ways to assist the Temple Knights in combating the Dravanian Horde, hence why I have become a chirurgeon. My supplies are not meant to simply distribute to anyone who has need of them, but... when I saw you in the Brume, bleeding out as you were, I could not simply ignore you and allow you to die when I could have saved you. Your garments did not befit a knight, but your life is no less precious. I apologize for my deception... erm...”

Brilliant. While Manceaux had been staring up at Violette in awe of her compassion, he had not only been apologized to for his own lie, but hadn’t even given her the simple courtesy of introducing himself. “My name is Manceaux. I was never graced with a surname.”

Violette smiled at him. Absolutely radiant. “Then you may call me Viola, and naught else. Thus, we may address each other on even ground.” She grasped the bottle of medicine once more, ready to resume her work. “Now lay yourself back down, you’re still wounded. I shall treat you as a friend.”

Manceaux closed his eyes in relief and allowed her cool hands to bring him comfort.

Cold touch.

Warm feelings.

Over the next few moons, Manceaux would regularly return to Viola’s clinic when his spells inevitably caused him harm, and every time she would gracefully mend his body and heart both. After some time, Manceaux managed to scrounge together enough coin to rent an inn room at the Forgotten Knight for one night and use their facilities to properly clean himself and his clothing. On this day, he would finally feel enough pride to visit Viola simply to spend time together rather than out of necessity.

Manceaux approached the door to her clinic and knocked politely, and when Viola answered to see him not only hale and healthy but groomed like a new man, she greeted him with her most joyous smile yet. “Come in, please!” Much of the day was whiled away by Viola teaching Manceaux the basics of conjury, as he seemed to have a natural aptitude for magics, and Manceaux doing his best to follow along.

Eventually, the light of day began to fade, and the warm, flickering fire in the hearth became the only source of light in the dim room.

“Manceaux, if you would, please remove your garments and lay yourself down upon the bed as you have before.” Viola requested before turning towards her cabinet of medicines.

Manceaux glanced down and examined himself. “Viola, can you not see that I am, for once, completely free from harm?” he replied.

When he looked back to Viola, she had already removed her own blouse and was in the process of disrobing further.

“...Ah.” was all Manceaux could muster before hurriedly doing as he was told.

Thus did Manceaux spend his first night in years truly safe from the cold, and his first night ever in a warm bed with warmer company, lost in green eyes.

Warm feelings.

Cold dread.

This time, though his burns were quite mild, Manceaux did not have the chance to knock.

There was a Temple Knight stationed outside Viola’s door.

“You will have to seek aid elsewhere, son.” The man in faceless armor said. “The Inquisition has saw fit to condemn this woman of Heresy. We will see the truth of it soon after her trial at Witchdrop.”

Manceaux’s blood turned to ice in his veins. “...Witchdrop?”

“That’s correct. Should the allegations be false, she’ll walk in the Fury’s hallowed halls. Should they be true, she’ll-”

“I know what it means.” Manceaux snapped over his shoulder, already heading South towards Witchdrop.

Hot fury.

“For the crimes of consorting with and plotting to aid a suspected heretic with acts of arson, you, Violetta de Haillenarte, have been accused of heresy.” The trial was being carried out at Witchdrop’s edge, overseen by a pair of Temple Knights standing guard alongside High Inquisitor Charibert of the Heavens’ Ward. “For a member of a House in such high standing this has grave implications indeed.” Charibert taunted, grinning all the while. “I daresay this may be merely the first act in House Haillenarte’s tragic fall from grace.”

Viola trembled as she tried not to stare down into the abyss below.

Charibert, taking joy from tormenting the poor girl, began once more. “You should hope for your sake that you don’t survive the fall, you know. Should you attempt to cheat death by revealing your grotesque draconic form, I will endeavor to personally burn such sickness from your-”

Hot fury.

Charibert was cut off by a loud boom and strangled screaming as one of the nearby Temple Knights was blasted apart, Manceaux standing ragged and breathless over what remained.

Hardly one to be intimidated by a sight he had inflicted upon others so often, Charibert simply resumed his vile speech. “Ah, and here is your accomplice. Slaughtering a Temple Knight in the presence of an Inquisitor? What more proof is needed of the accused’s heresy?”

Hot fury.

As Charibert spoke, Manceaux seized the remaining knight between him and the Inquisitor and cast another fire spell through gritted teeth. With no staff to serve as a focus, the spells erupted at point blank range, dealing no small amount of damage to Manceaux as well.

“Your form is as careless as your appearance.” Charibert said before beginning his own fire spell. “Allow me to instruct you.” The expertly formed spell caught Manceaux in the shoulder, knocking him off of his feet and making his own burns rage at him all the worse.

Hot fury.

“Manceaux you mustn’t!” Viola screamed from the edge, tears in her eyes. “Just leave me, you mustn’t be here!”

Hot fury.

Manceaux dragged his bloodied body up from the ground and unsteadily lunged for Charibert, spell already forming in his now twisted and outstretched hands-

Viola threw herself from the cliff’s edge.

Hot pain.

Manceaux caught only a glimpse of his love falling from his vision before he collapsed ungracefully onto his wounds.

Charibert smiled down at him. “Enjoy the darkest pit of the seven hells, heretic. I’m sure your lady is there already.” he jeered, stepping over Manceaux’s ruined body. “Pray do not keep her waiting.”

Manceaux could hear the monster’s footsteps retreat lazily back towards Ishgard. Twelve damn him and his accursed city. Manceaux did not wait until the footsteps faded away to force himself back into a crooked standing position and limp his way down the path into Witchdrop as quickly as his wounds would allow. The inquisitor, self-assured bastard that he was, did not bother to learn Viola’s fate. Perhaps he did not care. Perhaps he had always known her to be innocent. Manceaux would take no chances.

As he turned to the point at which she would have landed, Manceaux was stopped in his tracks. Her green eyes.

Viola was watching him.

Manceaux heaved his broken body to her and began scrambling for ideas in a panic. “Viola! Thank the Fury! Godsdammit hold on! I’ll- I’ll use some of the conjury you taught me to...”

Viola’s green eyes, dull and blank, stared clear through Manceaux.

Viola was not watching him.

Viola was dead.

Hot pain.

Cold, cold heart.

#FFXIV #Elezen #Final Fantasy XIV #Ishgard #ffxiv jenova #Jenova Server #Manceaux's Memories #long post

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kemnam · 7 years

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This is the Kacchako story that goes with this picture. Went ahead and decided to publish it on here as well because why not? First chapter below the cut. Enjoy!

It had been a trap.

Bakugo's ears were ringing. His insides felt like mush and someone had left his brain on vibrate. Propping himself up on his elbows, grenadiers digging into the hard, concrete floor, he managed to lift his head up through the nausea and look around. The villain's layer was destroyed - a distinct smell of ozone lingered in the air, the walls were crumbling, and the ceiling was likewise in pieces. Groaning as he sat up, Bakugo quickly tried to piece together the scattered shards of his mind. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened. All he knew was that explosions were supposed to his thing, and it angered him to no end to think that the shitty Villain Alliance thought they could use one against him. Luckily, he seemed to be okay. There was a nasty gash in his thigh and he was covered with small cuts and scrapes, but that seemed to be the worst of the damage. Nothing major was broken, and aside from being shaken up, he could move just fine. That was a miracle in itself.

Except it wasn't a miracle. Someone had saved him.

"Fuck." Bakugo coughed out as he peered through the dusty air, searching the rubble. Finally, his eyes spotted her light pink helmet. Cursing as he stumbled his way over to her, Bakugo felt hot emotions of anger and panic rise up in his chest. Dammit, why the fuck had she been following him? What the hell had she been thinking? As he rolled heavy stones off of her body, Bakugo scanned her for serious injuries. Thankfully, like him, she seemed relatively unharmed aside from cuts and scrapes. She was even awake, her eyes staring at something a thousand miles off in the distance through the cracked visor of her helmet. Bakugo, becoming more alert by the second, tapped her cheek and tried to get a response out of her. The smell in the air was starting to raise some red flags in his mind. They weren't safe yet. Whatever kind of bomb those bastards of the Villain Alliance had manufactured... it had done something more than just explode. Concern formed a heavy knot in his stomach, causing him to work hastily.

"Hey, Pink Cheeks." His voice was raspy, tongue tasting like ash. "Fucking look at me, dammit!"

And she did. But Uraraka's eyes weren't seeing him. She probably couldn't hear a single word he had said. Bakugo cursed. She was shell shocked. Perfect. A small twinge of worry for her somewhere behind his heart made him pause and consider what to do next. Knowing that he couldn't wait around for her to regain herself, Bakugo worked his hands underneath her neck and knees. They needed to get the hell out of there. Scooping her up into his arms, Bakugo hoisted her up onto his grenadiers and gracelessly flopped her head up over his shoulder. Only then did he realize that she was mumbling to herself, so softly that even when her mouth was right next to his ear, he still had trouble hearing her.

"Have... have to warn him..." Her voice was pitched higher with emotion. "... doesn't know..."

Bakugo felt sick, and he wasn't sure if it was her words or the atmosphere that was the cause. Standing on shaky legs, he took a couple of unsteady steps forward before picking up his pace. If Uraraka was uncomfortable as she bounced against him, she didn't say anything. Glancing to the top of her helmet every now and then, Bakugo couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort by having her there with him. Okay, maybe comfort wasn't really the right word - he just knew that if it had been anybody else in his arms, it would have been annoying. He carried her back through the small compound, which was now strangely quiet. The battles must have already ended. His boots echoed hollowly against the stone walls.

Wait, those weren't his boots...

Deku rounded a corner up ahead of him. He frantically looked down both ends of of the hallway, freezing when he spotted Bakugo and Uraraka.

"Kacchan! Uraraka!" He rushed towards them. The girl in his arms seemed to react to Midorya's voice, lifting her chin from his shoulder. Bakugo instinctively flinched back, suddenly remembering something he had read about regarding hazardous catastrophes. What if whatever was in that bomb was contagious?

"Stay back, you damn nerd!" Bakugo clutched Uraraka tighter. For once, Deku actually listened to him. Bakugo's knees suddenly gave out on him, and he tumbled to the floor with a growl, somehow managing to hold on to Uraraka, who was beginning to move a little. Her breaths came ragged, like his, and small groans escaped her. His strength nearly sucked dry, Bakugo looked up at Deku. The stupid look of confusion and worry on the other boy's face was pissing him off. But he knew he needed to explain what had happened if he wanted to get out. It was already hard to talk without Uraraka's weight compressing his lungs even more. "There was... a trap, in the last god damn room. Fucking bomb, I think. I don't know... feels like I got hit by a goddamn nuclear reactor..."

The more he spoke, the more winded he became. Deku gaped at him and Uraraka for a couple seconds, pure terror and concern in his eyes. But he broke himself out of it and put a finger to his ear, speaking quickly to the people on the other end of the piece. Bakugo looked down to the girl in his arms. She had stopped moving, but seemed to be regaining awareness of her surroundings. Her arms were wrapped around Bakugo, the soft pads of her fingers ghosting over his back. Her face was pale and pinched, eyebrows drawn together and bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Bakugo new that look - it was the look someone had when they were trying not to cry. His heart clenched at the sight. She wasn't supposed to cry. The strongest girl he knew wasn't supposed to be crying. Why on earth was she crying?

"After you went charging off by yourself, Kacchan," Deku said, capturing his attention once again. "We learned that Tomura Shigaraki wasn't here. Uraraka... she went off to find you, to tell you that... that something wasn't right." Despite the shake in his voice, Midorya's eyes were fiercely boring into Bakugo's, flaring with something that Bakugo had never seen before. It was rage, directed squarely at him.

Suddenly it made sense. At the time, he had ignored her calling his name, had ignored the panicked tone of her voice. When he opened that damn door and busted into that empty room, she had been right behind him trying to get him to stop. He hadn't listened, too blood drunk to knock himself out of his battlemind and think clearly. Bakugo gritted his teeth, hands unconsciously gripping her tighter. If he had taken one or two more steps into that room, if he had been any closer to that fucking bomb, if she hadn't yanked him back...no, if he had just fucking listened, then this wouldn't have happened. Instead, she got caught up in his massive mistake.

"Kacchan, if Uraraka's hurt in anyway, I... I..." Deku was trembling now, as well - but not with fear.

He didn't need to finish. I blame you. Bakugo couldn't find it in himself to admit that he probably would, too. Guilt settled like a heavy blanket across his shoulders.

Men in hazmat suites came to escort Bakugo and Uraraka out of the building, helping him to his feet once more. Uraraka, still too weak to stand, tightened her grip on Bakugo's shirt. It was odd, but for some reason, he didn't mind. Carrying her was the least he could do, even though his arms were screaming from effort. Deku followed at a nearly safe distance, his eyes never leaving the silent girl who clutched onto Bakugo like a lifeline. It was only when they were finally outside that Deku was forced to stay behind along with their other classmates. They all watched with worry in their eyes as Bakugo and Uraraka disappeared inside a small blue plastic tent.

There, Bakugo let Uraraka stand on her own two feet, gently setting her down while keeping one arm behind her back. She was a little wobbly, but steadied herself against his shoulder. She still hadn't said a word, eyes fixed down to the floor. Uraraka looked about as sick as Bakugo felt, but she stood straight and didn't let her tears fall just yet. Someone swept a geiger counter over their bodies, the rapid clicking loud enough for all to hear. Uraraka flinched at the sound, and Bakugo could hear her breathing quicken. They were hot, someone said, but they wouldn't know if they were in danger until they got them back to the facility. Bakugo never took his eyes off of Uraraka as they spoke, unconcerned by the implications of those words. He was looking for any reaction, for a sign that she was okay. She never took her hand off of his shoulder.

They were showered in cold water with their clothes still on, and scrubbed with stiff brushes for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time. Then they were taken to the nearest hospital with a decontamination unit. Huddled together in the back of a van, Uraraka shivered next to Bakugo. Water still dripped from her hair and face. Her helmet rested in her lap, arms wrapping around the thing tightly. Uraraka's face was pale. Even those cheeks that he always gave her crap for seemed sallow and thin. Bakugo found himself staring at her, an unknown emotion sitting like a stone in his heart. She was trying so hard to be strong right now, and he couldn't help but admire her for that. But she was trapped in her mind with dark thoughts, thoughts that might have been doing more damage than any bomb could. He frowned, not sure what he could do, how he could ever begin to make up for his own incompetence. It left a sour taste in his mouth. But he wanted to do something, anything to try to bring back the bubbly girl that he liked best.

Lifting his arm, Bakugo wrapped it around her shoulders. He was still wet, too, but at least he was slightly warmer. For once, Bakugo was thankful to have the internal temperature of a volcano. Uraraka looked up at him, meeting his eyes and truly seeing him for the first time since the explosion. Her brown eyes sparkled, and she was so close to him that he could count the fibers of her irises. The smell of her damp hair wafted up to his nostrils - she still smelled sweet, like mountain air, even after everything. He didn't know what his own face was doing, but he sure hoped he looked stronger than he felt. Uraraka's mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out. She didn't need to say anything. Her face suddenly tensed, eyebrows arching up with emotion. Small, almost unnoticeable tears glistened quietly in the corners of her eyes, but she dipped her head back down before he could see them fall. Bakugo thought that was all he was going to get from her, until she scooched closer to him, pressing her hip against his and leaning into the crook of his armpit. Settling her head into his shoulder, Uraraka stopped shivering and huffed a content breath. Bakugo's hand drifted down to her forearm, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into her costume.

Her closeness only seemed to make Bakugo's guilt worse - almost to the point of self-hatred. But she seemed to feel better from his uncanny gesture of kindness, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of calm as well. Turning his head towards her, Bakugo's lips brushed her hair and he closed his eyes.

This was good, Bakugo thought to himself. This was helping. And yet... why did he still feel so terrible?

The rare moment of tenderness didn't last long, however. They arrived at the hospital, and were quickly rushed to the decontamination area, which turned out to be nothing more than a line of showers and observation rooms in a closed-off part of the hospital. A doctor quickly gave them the low-down; they needed to take another shower, this time with their clothes off, and place their garments in plastic bags. After the shower, they would be separated and observed for 24-hours. If neither of them showed any sign of radiation poisoning, then they would be let go. Their costumes, unfortunately, would have to be burned. The school would make sure they got new ones in a timely manner.

Being in that hospital made the situation starkly real. Uraraka and Bakugo had gotten out by the skin of their teeth. And they weren't out of the woods yet. It was deeply unsettling to know that they almost didn't make it.

The doctors, nurses, and other personnel all left to give them a semblance of privacy. There were three showers, none of which had curtains, and the plastic bags along with a set of scrubs for each of them was set out on the bench next to them. As much as it pissed Bakugo off that his costume would be destroyed, he already knew that his grenadiers were useless when they got wet. With a sigh, Bakugo took a step towards the showers - but stopped, when he felt a tug on his shirt. Uraraka's hand loosely held the fabric, her posture closed and submissive. She didn't look at him, but he could see her questions in her eyes. Bakugo could tell what she wanted from him. His heart fluttered, unsure he if he was capable of being the person she needed. But he had to try. The young man turned to her, feeling her fingers trace over his abdomen as he did. Huffing a sigh through his nose, Bakugo took her hand.

"Come on, Uraraka." He gave her a gentle tug. "Let's get this over with."

Leading her towards the showers, Bakugo turned on the center shower to as hot as it would go, then turned it down just a tad. Uraraka wandered over to sit on the bench next to the plastic bags and the scrubs, while Bakugo adjusted the water. Her shoulders quivered, a signal that she was on the verge. She was breaking down, he could tell, and fast. Now that they were alone, just the two of them, it was harder for her to keep up the brave face. He hadn't asked her to in the first place, but he knew why she did. His own sense of guilt grew just a tiny bit heavier knowing that the girl who had saved his life still didn't think it was okay to cry in front of him. Everything that had happened was coming crashing down on her, paralyzing her in fear and grief, but she wasn't allowing her weakness to show... because she thought he would think less of her. That persistent, annoying, yet surprisingly strong girl that had almost taken him out during the sports festival and garnered his respect was still holding on by her fingertips, but with each moment that Uraraka was trapped in her own head, she slipped farther away.

Bakugo felt terrible. He had done this to her. This was his fault. They were here because of him. He needed to do something. But he knew that nothing he did would ever be enough to let her know that he could never think less of her. Not in a million years.

Kneeling in front of her, Bakugo gently laid his gloved hands over hers, which still clutched her helmet. She flinched at his touch, but refused to let her tears fall. Delicately, he pried the helmet from her and placed it on the floor.

"We need to get undressed, okay Pink Cheeks?" Bakugo asked in as gentle of a tone as he could muster, but his voice still came out rough. Uraraka gave a slight nod and began fingering off her gloves.

Without really thinking about it, he began working on her boots, unzipping them and sliding them off of her feet along with her socks. Her small toes tapped lightly against the floor. Moving up, he deftly undid the belt around her waist, letting it clink unceremoniously on top of her boots. Uraraka had managed to get one of her gauntlets off, but her hands were shaking so bad, and her fingers fumbled clumsily at the other one. Bakugo intervened, brushing her hands aside and pulling it the rest of the way off, adding those and her gloves to the pile on the floor. His hands moved up slowly towards her face. Fingers sliding around her neck, he unclasped the collar meant to protect her spine and added that to the pile as well. She was left only in her spandex suit, trembling and starting to whimper. The small sounds tore him apart. Figuring she could take off the suit herself, Bakugo stood up straight and held his hands out to her. She took them, and he pulled her to her feet.

"Okay, great. You're doing great. Now come on." His words sounded silly to him, but Uraraka wasn't laughing.

The water might have been a little cool for his liking, but that probably meant it was perfect for her. With a gentle nudge, Bakugo ushered her under the stream of water. The shower heads were the kind that hung straight overhead, allowing the water to fall down over the girl like heavy rain. She let go of his hand, inhaling sharply as the water cascaded over her. Closing her eyes, Uraraka's hands raised to her head, fingers running through her dirty brown hair. Bakugo watched her, watched as the water made her suit cling tighter to her body, watched as small trickles of red and brown drained down her ankles from her numerous scraps and cuts. Bakugo stared at the blood, unsure what he hated more about this situation; that he had almost gotten Uraraka killed, or that she might be permanently traumatized because of his actions. If Bakugo alone had been caught in the explosion, that would have been one thing. But to have someone else be dragged into it with him was something completely different. Especially when that someone was Uraraka - another log to add to the fire. Bakugo's lips pulled back into a snarl as anger rose within him, anger that was directed at himself because holy fuck had he messed up big time. But he wasn't prepared to deal with that right now. In an ironic flip of circumstances, Bakugo knew that he needed to be strong her for sake, as well. She couldn't see him breaking down, not now. Spinning away from her, Bakugo sat down on the bench and began removing his boots.

When he was down to just his shirt and pants, and had already put both his and Uraraka's gear in bags, he turned towards the showers, making his way towards the one to the left of Uraraka's. He felt like he was sleepwalking, his mind fogged with exhaustion and limbs heavy. Bakugo sneered. He shouldn't have been this tired...

"Bakugo..."

Her voice was so small, especially over the sound of running water, that he almost didn't hear her. This was the first time she had spoken to him since the explosion, and he could hardly recognize her strained voice. It made his breath hitch in his chest. Bakugo froze, refusing to look at her, deathly afraid of what he might see. Did she blame him, too? Did she hate him now? Bakugo was used to people hating him, but her... if she never spoke to him again, never smiled at him when she caught him staring at her, he didn't think he would be able to take it. He couldn't say that he would blame her, though. After all it was all his fault that they were in this mess in the first place. But when he looked up at her, to the water dripping down her face that very well could have been tears, and the small smile on the corners of her lips, Bakugo just knew that if she forgave him, then that would be so much worse.

"We... we almost died." She whispered. Her hands trembled as they gripped at the waist of her suit. Her chin dipped, bottom lip trembling. "I... you... almost didn't make it... I was so scared..."

"Uraraka..." Her name felt like a swear word to him - a name that he had no right to call her after what had happened. A vice gripped his heart, making it impossible for him to breath.

"I... I don't know... mmhhh..." She choked back a sob, despite the smile on her face. "I don't know... what I would have done... if I had lost you..."

His body moved before he could think. Stepping into the running water beside her, Bakugo quickly wrapped his arms around her, one hand pushing the back of her head into his shoulder. That was enough for Uraraka to finally drop her brave face, and she openly bawled into his chest, her hands clutching the back of his shirt. He could feel how much she was shaking, and gently eased her to the tile floor of the shower with his legs underneath her for support. He quickly became drenched, all the little cuts and scrapes stinging as they were cleansed. Their blood mixed together in the water as it went down the drain. Leaning heavily against him, Bakugo found himself whispering small phrases to her as she wept.

"It's okay now," he breathed out to her. "I'm here." Those two phrases tumbled out of his mouth. His heart hammered against hers as their drenched bodies clung to each other.

How... how could he ever even hope to call himself a hero if he couldn't even protect the people that were trying to help him? How could he be number one if he put others in danger? How could he bare to live with himself... if he hurt the people he cared about? First it was All Might, and now...

"I'm so glad..." Uraraka mumbled against his chest. "That you're alive, Bakugo."

Her words, though kind, were like a knife through his heart. Gritting his teeth against the roiling emotions in his chest, Bakugo allowed himself a small comfort by burying his face into the crook of Uraraka's neck. He didn't deserve this. Far from it. She should be mad at him, screaming and kicking and trying to tear him a new one for being the piece of shit that he was. For endangering her life so carelessly. But Uraraka was cradling his head now, her lips pressed to the curve of his jaw as she continued to cry out her woes. It became unclear who was comforting who. Was he crying now, as well? It was hard to tell with all the water running down his face. All he did know was that neither of them could pretend to be strong any longer.

It was here, under the hot water of the shower in the decontamination unit of that hospital, where Bakugo and Uraraka held each other as the terror, guilt, and sorrow was cleansed from their bodies along with the hazardous materials that had almost killed them. Here, where Bakugo realized how much farther he had yet to go, how much more he had to learn - about being a hero, as well as about himself. He never would have known if he had been here with anyone else, either. It had to be Uraraka - not even Deku could affect him so deeply. Comforted with resolve but still heavy-hearted, Bakugo closed his eyes and wrapped his arms a little tighter around Uraraka, feeling the hot water trickle over his body and wash his dark feelings away in the comfort of her presence, while Uraraka grinned into his neck, beyond relieved to have this boy here with her instead of in a morgue. The color returned to her cheeks the same moment that Bakugo fully acknowledged what she meant to him.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. They were alive, both of them. That was all they could ever ask for.

#my story #contamination #my hero academia #mha #kacchako #katsuki bakugou #uraraka ochaco #bakugo x uraraka #kacchaco #this needs to be edited #bnha #mha fanfiction

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