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glassartpeasants · 3 years

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Like Father, Like Son

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, unhealthy/toxic relationships, child abuse, mentions of needles

A/N: This is a post based on a head cannon made by @yandereacademia which you can see here. I promise I will continue the DDLC AU but I needed to get this angst outta my system because I’ve been really stressed lately lol. Also the original storyline is kinda bumped up to fit the story

~~~

The only reason you were with the sociopath called Overhaul is because of a stupid mistake you made about 5 months ago. If you could go back in time you would’ve never drank that much until you were blackout drunk. You had somehow managed to sleep with the germophobic man after you both crossed paths when you both were blackout drunk. Which leaded where you are now. In the Shie Hassakai base, pregnant with his child.

Once you showed him the test he demanded- no, MADE you quit your old job ad live in the base with him. Not in his room of course.Who knows what germs you could be carrying! You don’t get special treatment even if you are the mother of his child. And If we’re being honest, he doesn’t really see it as his child. More like an heir. How else would the Shie Hassakai live on?

He doesn’t even see you that often. He sends either Chrono or Mimic to look after you. Sometimes Setsuno. You liked Setsuno since he actually treated you like a human rather than a burden. Chrono was a bit better than mimic. Mimic was just a plain ass.

Your entire pregnancy was all about check ups. Healthy food, did I mention checkups? It was almost every Tuesday and Friday that he made you come into a little doctors room and inspect you and give you ultrasounds. You felt more like an incubator rather than a mother, but you digress. Once you got the news that the child was a boy you bet your ass Overhaul was way more worried about you than he originally was.

You wanted to run really. You saw what horrible things Overhaul had done. You didn’t want your child to end up like Eri or to turn into a shit human being like Overhaul. You wanted your child to grow up compassionate and kind, not a stone cold murderer with no remorse for human life.

Maybe once your child is born you can teach him those things in secret...

~~~

2 years after the child is born

You were right, Overhaul wanted nothing to do with the baby until it was old enough to be taught the ways of the yakuza. He wasn’t even impressed when the baby started talking and walking! You wanted to yell, scream, argue, and just hurt the man in general. A child needs support, not a unimpressed look everytime they do an accomplishment.

You always supported your son. Showing him how proud you were whenever he handed you a drawing of him and you. Overhaul barely even saw the kid which affected him to the point where the kid didn’t even draw him in pictures.

You were happy that your baby didn’t see/look up to Overhaul as a fatherly figure. Man didn’t deserve to be called one or be one. You were worried if Overhaul would use your son as a experiment like he was using Eri.

Speaking of Eri, you finally convinced Overhaul to let you see her and comfort her after he used her for the bullets. She was such a sweetie and especially loved how you would sing her to sleep whenever she has a bad day. You didn’t get to see her a lot, but you did what you could when you did. If only you could make Overhaul see what he was doing to everyone around him...

~~~

Your son just turned 8

Everyday your son looked more and more liked his father. Not to mention he inherited Overhaul’s quirk It wouldn’t have bothered you that much if it weren’t for the fact that he started looking up to his father. Whenever your so was getting put to bed by you, he would always tell you about how much he wanted to be the next leader. He would tell you how he watched Overhaul to paperwork, sat next to him in meetings and such. The finally straw for you was when he told you that Overhaul let him use his quirk on a living breathing human being. To say you were furious was an understatement. All you saw was red.

You smiled at the boy before pressing a kiss to his head and walking out his door while whispering goodnight before your started your expedition to give Overhaul a piece of your mind. You’ve stayed quiet for to long. You couldn’t just let him expose your child to such violence at such a young age! All you saw was red as you walked to his office door. Giving it a harsh knock you were allowed entry.

Upon entering you notice that you are the only one there with him. Just the two of you. You were afraid yes, but your anger out did it.

“Did you seriously let our son use his quirk on someone at such a young age?! He’s only 8! He doesn’t need to be exposed so early!” You yelled at him with your hands on your hips. You knew if you pointed at him you could say goodbye to that finger.

“He’s going to be the next leader. It’s only natural to start him off early. And I don’t remember giving you a say in the matter.” His voice cold and stoic but a hint of annoyance caught your ears.

“8 is way to early! Please Overhaul, Just give me 2-3 more years without him experiencing what you do.” You begged him. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You only wanted what was best for your son. Your heart stopped when you heard Overhaul get up from his desk and his footsteps come near your now slightly shaking form.

“Bold of you to assume I would let him miss out on very needed skills to become the next leader. We both know that if it weren’t for him, you would have been dead the second i found out I slept with you. That boy is the only thing that kept you alive. So, from now on, I expect you to never come to my face. Talking about him needing to be kind and compassionate, is not the way of the yakuza. One more incident like this, than I’ll make him kill you myself.” Your eyes widened as you looked at the man in front of you. You can feel your blood run cold in your veins as it circulates through your body. Tears streaked down your face as you felt so defeated. Your entire body felt like you’ve been crushed by a car.

You turned around and walked out the door and into your room. Locking the door your jumped onto your bed, grabbing the pillow before screaming into it. Your tears stained the pillow case as your body shook. You felt so hopeless and so helpless. Where was a hero when you truly needed one?

~~~

The next day

You were just finished changing before your son barged into your room. You were about to say good morning to him before he started screaming at you. Shocked you told him to calm down, but in the corner of your eye you saw the purple feathers that you have learned to fear walk by.

“What are you saying? Please calm down!” You say as you try to soothe your screaming child.

“How dare you try and take me away from dad! Dad told me everything!” Your son flailed his arms up and down while stomping on the ground. His screams soon turned incoherent.

“Baby! I would never-”

“Liar! Dad told me that you wanted to leave him! He said that you thought he didn’t deserve a son!” You didn’t say that what was he on?! You only wanted to protect him! You loved your son to the point you would die for him! What had Overhaul said to him!

“Please sweetie calm down-”

“No! I never want to talk to you again!” Your son ran out the door before slamming it shut. Your heart felt shattered as you heard Overhauls voice on the other side, ’calming’ your distressed son. You felt your world crumbling around you as your son was the only thing that kept you happiness in these dark times. Him and Eri. Oh Eri, if he grows up that means...

You felt vomit rise in your throat at the thought of your own son hurting such a sweet, innocent, little girl. You fall to your knees as tears spill down your cheeks. You couldn’t just run away from the Shie Hassakai ever. The base is fully guarded, and has high max security cameras. Not to mention the probability of them finding you and your son right away. If you even tried, you would probably get you and your son hurt. Maybe even little Eri.

Your whole body felt numb. You just wished it was a horrible nightmare.

~~~

5 months later

As the weeks pass by, you felt your hurt break more and more everyday. Your son had kept his word when he said he ever wanted to talk to you again. You haven’t heard your baby's voice since that day. Hell, now you barely even see him! You see Eri more than your actual son now. ANd seeing Eri was not that often.

You felt hopeless. You wanted nothing more to do than crawl in a hole and die. Every night was spent crying over your son and how your life and gone so down hill so quickly. You didn’t even feel like moving. You just sat in the corner of the room since it felt like the only warm spot in the entire room. This little corner felt like some sort of sanctuary in this horrible place you call home.

~~~

Your son just turned 13

Day whatever of the last time your son talked to you. And day whatever since you’ve left your room. You had no reason anymore. Overhaul officially banished you from ever seeing Eri again. Your world was crushed once more. At this point you felt like your whole existence was useless.

Your days grew darker by the minute as your mental health seemed to be slipping through your fingers. You only ever moved when you needed to go to the bathroom or to drag the food plate that was brought to you by some employee of Overhaul. You barely ate anything anyways so you really saw no point in doing anything anymore.

It only hurt more knowing that today was his birthday. You had asked the employee that brought you food if he had a party or just something to celebrate. You felt the last of your hope crushed once you heard his answer.

“The only thing he got was a official Shie Hassakai mask.”

~~~

Your son turned 15

You body was weak. You had refused to eat anything seeing no point in it anymore. You were always tired. Only getting up to go to the bathroom then sitting back in the corner that once gave you sanctuary.

You heard footsteps on the outside of your door as the familiar voice of Overhaul was on the other side. Another voice rang in your ears and it hit you like a train once you realized who’s it was. It was your sons. His voice was so much deeper than the little boy’s you had once heard. It only deepened your sadness. You blinked but didn’t even turn your eyes once you heard the door opening.

“We can test the serum out on her first. She’s too weak to fight back.”

“I didn’t know my mother had a quirk.” You couldn’t even make your eyes turn to look at them. You didn’t want to see the monster your son had become. Your heart couldn’t take anymore heartbreak, You felt like you would crumble into nothing.

You felt a light get shine into your eyes. You didn’t even blink during it. Once the light was gone you got a clear look at your once loving son. A mask covered his face just like his fathers did. He looked you in the eyes and you did the same. You wanted to cry but held it down.

A latex hand grabbed your arm before you felt the needle being poked into it. You didn’t even flinch or wince. Almost as if you were a lifeless doll. A hand moved up and down your face as if to see if you were even alive or ‘there’.

“She isn’t responding to anything. She didn’t even wince. She’s breathing but she looks like she’s sick.” All that was one ear and out the other. Finally you felt the needle leave your arm as a sigh escaped Overhaul’s lips.

“Well wait for about an hour or two and see the effects. For now, we have to do more tests on Eri. Lets go.” So...he was apart of the team experimenting on Eri. You felt like throwing up. How could the boy who you raised to be kind and compassionate turn into such a disgusting monster.

The sound of their footsteps leaving the room hit your ears. From the corner of your eye you say your son about to leave before you spoke up,

“You are not my son.” You saw him stop in his tracks as he turned to look at you. His eyes a bit wide but said nothing.

“I never want to hear you call me your mother ever again. Your a monster undeserving of one. I can’t believe I gave birth to someone like you. I never want ot see your face again.” In your monotone words they’re were spikes laced in venom. You couldn’t even look your own son in the eyes. As they we’re the same as his monster of a father.

“Get out of my room and never come back.” You heard him close the door slowly as you let out a breath once you finally saw him gone. You can barely stand to see the monster your child had become. But, you didn’t see nor hear the way his breathing became ragged. Or how his eyes felt like spilling tears. Or how his body slowly shook at your words.

‘It shouldn’t hurt. This shouldn’t hurt me. Why does it hurt so bad? Please stop it. Her words shouldn’t affect me. Why does it hurt?’

#overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #mha #bnha #overhaul #chisaki kai #shie hassaikai #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #mha angst #bnha angst #kai #angst #yakuza

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oumaheroes · 3 years

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Earthbound: Matthew’s Story

Context:

Hundreds of years after the fall of Earth, mankind is slowly starting to return. Some people have a stronger urge to return than others, confused by fragments of memories from a life already lived.

Full fic can be found here.

Arthur’s story can be found here.

-----

Matthew is four. His family have got their first dog and it’s a large, fluffy creature, all flank and tail and teeth. Matthew is horrified, at first, at this large thing that has suddenly appeared in his house, and he cries and tries to get away from it when it approaches him in the living room.

‘Just come say hello,’ Daddy says, hoisting him up to sit on his knees and taking his small hand in his larger one. His father’s body curls around him and, enveloped in arms, Matthew feels safe. His daddy reaches out his hand, thus, Matthew’s hand, giant thumb in the middle of his palm so that it is pinned there, and holds it aloft in front of the creature.

A large wet nose immediately descends and Matthew squeals because it is cold and strange and scary and Daddy shushes him, bouncing him on a knee. ‘He won’t bite’, Daddy says, ‘I won’t let him hurt you. He’s just trying to say hello; doggies say hello a little differently, is all.’

He kisses Matthew’s temple and rocks him, gently. ‘Want to try again?’

He is not but he nods and says yes because he wants to be brave and strong and he trusts Daddy, he does, or he really really wants to. At his reply, Daddy holds out their hands again, in front of the thing’s mouth, and whispers soothing nothings in Matthew’s ear- he’s not paying attention, too focused on the mouth with the teeth.

The creature snuffles their hands before giving them a lick, pink rough tongue and slobber; Matthew gasps, surprised, and then laughs. Daddy chuckles, and Matthew feels the vibrations rumble through him. ‘See? I told you; he only wants to be your friend. He’s called Kumajirou.’

The name doesn’t quite stick, too long and cumbersome for Matthew’s tentative tongue and he becomes Kuma, instead. It fits.

Matthew is eleven and wishes people could be more like dogs, open and friendly and honest about all that they are. He finds people too quick, children especially: too sly and fast and always with something hidden behind their smile. He’s figured out that he isn’t really a people person, anyway- it’s not that he doesn’t like people, exactly, but he doesn’t really know how to act around them; doesn’t know what to say or how to read them properly and now the whole process of opening his mouth to speak to someone feels daunting, like standing on the roof of his house and forcing himself to step off.

Matthew likes to sit on his thoughts, chew them about in his mouth a bit and be sure of the shape they will form before he lets them go. This means that he takes too long, is silent more often than not because kids his age don’t have the patience to stop and wait for him to get himself ready, lining up his words like soldiers about to march.

He’s known as the silent one at school, blending into the environment like a piece of furniture. Whether it’s in lessons, in sports, in games, or anything in between, his classmate’s eyes glaze past him and he knows that they’ve forgotten he’s there, forgotten that he’s an option to speak to. They’re not mean to him, they just don’t think about him, anymore. Even adults are not immune, more used to handling the demands of the louder kids, dazzled by the brightness of the smarter ones, fond of the affectionate children. Matthew is only half there, he supposes, sitting in the background with a mouthful of words that won’t come out when he wants them to.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s even really there at all, because that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Memories of things and people and places and conversations- moments you share with other people that plant you in time, leaving a mark of your life like a footprint in their existence. He feels like a ghost of a person, a shade of parts that resemble someone else and it leaves him more tongue tied than ever.

But if Kuma is there, wherever he is, it’s instantly better because Matthew can be himself, can feel something loosen inside him and let him act like a person because Kuma loves him no matter what. Dogs act the same to everyone as long as you’re good to them- love them even a little. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew doesn’t want to talk, or doesn’t know how he properly wants to say something. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew struggles to find his words, tripping and stumbling over them as they clog his mind, clumping awkwardly on his tongue.

Kuma will sit there, patient and still, as Matthew whispers his day into his fur, words clear and strong and unsullied by fear in a way they never are with people. He will lick him on the nose and shove his head onto his lap when Matthew has curled himself into a ball in his room, replaying his day over and over so much that his mistakes blur together like paint, colouring everything with a smear of shame.

Matthew is fourteen and he feels as though he finally understands something. It starts as a small something, creeping and pattering through him and leaving tiny tracks in his mind, but now it’s growing larger and stronger, moving within him and sending his thoughts racing.

Kuma died a few months ago. This is what started it, Matthew knows, seeing Kuma slow and slow, more so each year, before, towards the end, it took all he had left to just lift his head. Matthew had felt terrible, of course- at a loss and helpless sitting there with him, stroking Kuma’s head and whispering final goodbyes. His father had joined him on the floor, both of them cocooned by a companionable silence in a way they couldn’t be at any other time, and Matthew felt truly heard, to the bottom of everything he was, in the depths of his grief. This was a moment that needed no words, was a thing that could not be named- only felt and experienced.

His father is a research scientist at some big lab in the heart of the colony and is more used to theory and hypothetical than practical application, but he had found some e-tab journals on dogs, about how their bodies worked and how to fix them, and used his skills to pour over them with Matthew on the floor, studying the miniscule entries as much as he could to provide some help. Matthew watched, days lit by the flash of the e-tab as story after journal after analysis was checked and rechecked by his father beside him. There was no medicine that could save Kuma, no special cure for age, but there was some information about helping it, easing it- gentling death until it was as soft as sleep and Matthew’s father tried each and every one that he found. Kuma left them with a shift and a sigh and Matthew was surprised at death’s kindness, how easy it could be.

His father, haggard, tired, and sad, had given something of himself for Kuma, and Matthew felt so proud of him, thankful for the benefit it had given his oldest friend. Kuma is gone, but Matthew thinks of that shared peaceful end, of those journals filled with age old accounts from long dead men. He realises that there must be many of these e-tab entries about so many other animals, the few that are left and the thousands that there were before and he flicks onto one, in passing, just to see.

That’s all it takes. One leads to another, which leads to another and another and another and then Matthew can’t stop himself from drinking up as many as he can sync to, allowing himself to be pulled down through trees of evolution, skipping through the classifications of mammals to haunt reptiles and glide past the wingspan of birds. There used to be so many animals, more than he can ever name, more than he can ever conceive being possible- in the seas and the skies and the land and all at once. In, out, around- a planet teeming with things besides humans, living alongside the hulking toxic growth known as mankind and breathing life into the skies.

When earth fell they were lost, all apart from the few that the survivors managed to cling to, stolen away in their bags and clutched under an arm. Small animals and creatures that could be carried and fed easily with scraps that weren’t needed by another fleeing human life, or domesticated food that was herded and pushed, clueless, into a slaughterhouse of spaceships. It is redundant, of course- a pointless skill for him to nurture but Matthew is hungry for all of it; drawn in and hooked to something beyond his control he syncs file after file, strange creatures taking shape in his mind to migrate the past into his waking day.

Matthew’s colony is one of those ones where they like to push people, like to specialise their children early and drive them to great things. They’re good at what they do, structurally organised to churn out success and Matthew see the benefit of this, finally. He hadn’t really taken part before, hadn’t really shown an interest in pushing himself into a single category, but now, all of a sudden, he wants to do what his dad does.

Well, not exactly what his dad does, numbers and figures and study of physics, but the process of it. The breaking down of information, the mythological categorising of data; the calm soothing expectation of silent contemplation. So, he picks to try to become a research scientist too, selects classes that will give him access to greater libraries and archives and locked journals for deeper study, searching for fur and teeth and claws amongst them.

Matthew is eighteen. He managed to find a uni that taught a few classes in veterinary studies, the medical beginnings for those wanting to specialise as a vet. Matthew doesn’t want to do this, exactly -he’s more interested in how animals work and what they’re like, what colours they come in and how big they are- but if he becomes a vet it will allow him to work with animals all day and this, small as it is, could be enough. He isn’t sure, really; doesn’t really know exactly what he wants other than to learn but he hopes that if he takes enough classes, he’ll eventually figure something out.

The bell rings and he stands, gathering his things and heading out of class -anatomy of canines, his favourite- and turns a corner, slinging his bag over a shoulder and aiming for the canteen where he hopes they’re serving pancakes. He keeps missing them, never making the queue in time, but today he’s hoping that maybe he can manage to push his way through. Suddenly, as he turns a corner someone bumps into him, not seeing him at all, it seems, and everything crashes to the floor, e-tab skidding away out of sight.

There’s a mumbled ‘watch it!’ from someone whom Matthew doesn’t see, just a mouthless shout from a sea of strangers, and then he’s left scrabbling on the floor, parting students like a boulder in a river. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glint of metallic grey and a flash of Kuma’s tail across the hallway by a wall. He sighs in relief and scoots his way over, bending to snatch his tab up before it can get trodden on and straightening to come face to face with an e-board, notice shining bright and loud.

Matthew blinks at it, then shakes his head and blinks again when the advert doesn’t change, displaying something he never thought possible. It’s Earth, there and large and green and Matthew can’t read the words properly because, out of nowhere, his eyes are filled with tears and he’s crying- great shuddering breaths that turn heads and rip his voice from out of him.

Earth. Earth, there, open. Looking for people. He’s crying, crying so hard he can’t breathe, just gasp and choke and cry and people stop to stare at him because all of a sudden he’s the centre of attention, the loudest thing there is. He can’t control himself, can’t reign it in because at the top, under a heading for ‘Looking for skills in:’ he sees-

Animal care.

He doesn’t need to think, doesn’t need to read any further, doesn’t even stop to feel shame for his outburst; class forgotten, lunch forgotten, life forgotten he sprints home, avoiding the shuttles and cars he runs as fast as his legs can carry him, pounding on the electric walkways that shoot through town and feeling himself grow lighter and lighter with each step.

His mother and father don’t want him to go, mother clinging to him with arms wrapped tight around his neck. They feel, briefly, like a noose and Matthew chokes to think of listening to them- at the thought of staying here.

He loves them, he loves them- they’re his parents and he loves them so fucking much but this is something he needs to do, has to do and as he pulls away from his mother and meets his father’s eyes he can see that his father knows this too.

‘You may not get to work with animals,’ he says seriously, ‘at least not the ones you want.’ Matthew’s mother steps back to look at his father in horror, betrayal raw on her face as she realises that his father isn’t saying no Matthew can’t go, that he must stay. She reads the acceptance there, understands the truth of it and leaves the room to compose herself, Matthew staring after her sad but determined.

Matthew nods. ‘I know.’

His father steps forwards and puts a large land on his shoulder, rooting him in this moment. ‘If you’re not happy, will you come home?’

Matthew feels his eyes begin to burn, throat tighten, and thinks of the birds he’ll see even if he works in a lab, the insects he will find and small animals he can watch from a window; life spilling over the edges to bleed into buildings. ‘I’ll be happy.’

#my writing #matthew Williams #aph canada #hws canada #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #APH England #hws #Oops oh no here we go #These are good little snippest if people don't fancy reading the whole thing #but sorry to anyone out there who already has!#(i love you)

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background-noise-headache · 3 years

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Hurt the Bard, but like, Emotionally/Non-lethally

Um, terribly painful Jaskier-whump idea. (This has some Geraskier elements in it, but in a pre-relationship, developing friendship way, featuring a lot of Geralt openly caring for Jaskier because that’s my head canon, Geralt speaks with actions and his eyes, not his words.

I know the fandom likes to play with the idea of Jaskier’s parents being distant or abusive or neglectful. Which I do enjoy, but I vibe more with the idea that Jaskier had very supportive parents and that’s why he’s so confident and open and affectionate.

So, this: The court mage’s apprentice is bitter and angry seeing all this love that annoying brat (only a few years younger than him) gets. The jealousy is eating at him. Jaskier goes to Oxenfurt then sets out on his own to become a bard with the encouragement of his parents even if it’s not what’s expected of a viscount.

Somewhere between when Jaskier meets Geralt to the djinn incident (I imagine after Cintra) Jaskier is home for a while, telling his family about his adventures and being showered in love and sharing that love back with them, he’s missed them so much.

The apprentice is now the court mage and that anger has never gone away, just been buried and smothered because dude does not have the best coping mechanisms, no one ever taught him any. Asshole decides to cast a curse on Jaskier:

“Every kind word will cause you pain and make you rot on the inside, but no one will see the pain they cause you. It won’t kill you physically, but you’ll swear you’re dying. Every kind word, every compliment, will make you rot until the only relief and joy you get is when someone insults you. You’ll beg for them to hate you, beg for them to spit in your face.”

By the next day it’s clear how effective the curse is.

(Okay, trigger warning for body horror, skin issues, medical wounds. This is honestly me coping with a terrible nightmare I had a few years back that I never completely got over and sometimes I need to talk about it. So, bear with me, or skip to my line of astrisks)

(You know what, additional trigger warnings for toxic relationships and emotional abuse between Jaskier an characters only mentioned in the show but never seen. You know the ones)

By rot, I mean that when Jaskier looks at his skin it looks like it’s bruising, and then cracking, bleeding, pealing away. It’s molting and pussy and awful (that is specifically what it looked like in my dream, the skin on my left arm was molting.) But nobody fricken sees it! Jaskier can point to the wounds, groan in pain, nobody sees the cause. It’s not actually there, it’s technically in his head because that’s what the curse does, it won’t kill him, just rot him.

So immediately Jaskier realizes he has to leave home because every time he sees his parents and his siblings and his neices and nephews they’re excited and happy and loving. They’re quick to realize something’s wrong, but Jaskier knows they can’t see the way his skin is turning. He leaves without saying goodbye because he can’t explain.

He travels, avoids his friends and familiar places where he’s known. But when he performs his audience will tell him how wonderful his songs were and patrons will flirt and it’s all pain. It’s less painful to avoid performing, but harder to survive without it. But he can’t always bear the pain, it’s just too much sometimes.

He runs into an old classmate. He and Valdo were never close, several years apart in age. They chat, they flirt, they go to bed together. Valdo is sparing with his compliments, and very observant. Because Jaskier gets irritable with pain and too many nice words makes him lash out, but insults stir a fire in his eyes that Valdo enjoys. He thinks he knows what Jaskier really wants. He’s not sure how he feels about it, but Valdo can’t remember the last time he had a fling so interesting and contradictory.

They travel for a while. Jaskier becomes a backup for Valdo’s performances, getting a share of the coin to get by and minimal attention. It’s better this way, he tells himself.

One drunken night he tells Valdo about the curse. To Valdo it makes too much sense and it’s so tragic and the tragedy makes it more romantic. The relationship is downhill from there as Jaskier realizes the kind of situation he’s gotten himself into and how he’s becoming dependent on Valdo’s cruelty, and how much crueler it feels if Valdo says something nice.

He leaves.

He meets the Countess. She flirts with insults and thrives making people feel lower than her. She pays him a lot of money to play for her and takes him to bed and rarely has a kind word and if he avoids drinking too much he’ll never fall into the same trap he did with Valdo.

And then a song begins circulating about a poor bard cursed to long for pain and cruelty, who will never know love again. Which fucking hurts worse than any of this shit before, the message that he’ll never be loved again burns.

The Countess grows bored and kicks him out. He travels for a few weeks, to tired and burnt out to perform and goes through his money fast. He also had jack-all in the way of travel supplies, not even a bedroll, so it’s a rough few weeks after he can no longer afford a bed under a roof.

And then he meets Geralt on the bank of the Pontar. Gods it’s nice to focus on someone else’s problems for a moment. And then the fillingless pie comment, and it’s the first time in a Gods-know-how-long time that he finds no relief in the insult, only annoyance. And that old habit of bickering with Geralt kicks in because even if it’s been a few years they’re still friends.

(Yes, they’re friends. I head canon that Geralt says they’re not friends 1. because he has obvious abandonment issues and self loathing problems, as the fandom well knows, and 2. every time he says he and Jaskier aren’t friends, Jaskier insists they are with more and more evidence to prove it and it makes Geralt feel warm and fuzzy. Eventually they had that conversation and Jaskier knows what Geralt actually means/wants to hear when he says they’re not friends)

(also Geralt has been plagued with insomnia for weeks or months on end, and I’m telling you, you would be cranky too. Not getting enough sleep gives me migraines, worsens my snow vision, makes my ADHD worse, and makes me irritable. That’s why Geralt is so grumpy on the river bank)

So for a few minutes he forgets about the curse and the festering rot on his skin. And then the djinn, and he’d really like to get back at the two people that have hurt him the most recently, and then break this stupid fucking curse already.

No such luck.

And after all the djinn nonsense, Yen makes the offhanded comment, “Where’s your cursed bard run off to.”

“He shouldn’t be cursed any more.”

“Oh no, he was cursed long before the djinn.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!”

“I didn’t see it until you left.”

“And you didn’t break it?”

“It wasn’t killing him. The djinn was. One problem at a time. The djinn needed to be solved before this curse.”

So, yeah, Yennefer and Geralt find Jaskier outside and they have a long talk about it. Yen needs a day to prepare for breaking the curse because she’s already used a lot of chaos today and she needs rest. (And those two idiots need to talk, she can see it and it’s giving her a migraine she needs to sleep off)

Jaskier tells Geralt about the last year or so of his life. It’s fucking shit.

The curse is broken. There’s no sign of rot on Jaskier’s skin, no pain when anyone says something kind, like “we are friends” and “I missed you” which is a relief.

But the emotional changes won’t go away overnight. Jaskier responds to kindness with hostility and takes insults in silence. And Geralt isn’t doing well watching someone he cares about act... act like Geralt. Self-hating and believing they need cruelty to be normal. And there’s no traveling therapist either. So they’re doing the best they can. But it’s a rough few years as Jaskier unlearns all that shit.

It kind of convinces Geralt to get his head a little more out of his ass and stop hating himself so much, realizing how painful it must be for Jaskier and his brothers and Vesemir and Yennefer to watch.

The mountain is just a really awful few days. Jaskier takes Geralt’s lashing with minimal resistance. A comment that it’s not fair is a vast improvement from 5-6 years ago, but nothing like his younger self would have responded, all puffed up dramatics until Geralt realized how ridiculous he was being.

Geralt and Jaskier have an awkward, stunted few days hiking down the mountain, during which Jaskier decides he needs to go to the coast and sort himself out. He’ll see Geralt next spring.

He goes home and spends that autumn with his family. It’s the most healing three months he’s ever had. The mage has long since left, and Jaskier’s not sure he’ll ever get that closure, but he’ll take what healing he can get now. He’s more like his old self than he’s ever been since the curse broke.

And then Geralt shows up on the edge of winter, limping with an exhausted child surprise and a wounded sorceress by his side. Jaskier gives them shelter for a few nights but they can’t stay, they’ll in danger as long as they’re stuck down south.

The night before they leave, Geralt and Jaskier talk, clear the air. Geralt asks if Jaskier is happy. He is. So Geralt decides not to ask Jaskier to join him. Yennefer is the one to ask, because fuck that idiotic bullshit and Ciri already knows him from a few winters spent at Cintra and adores him, and he’s already great with kids, a skill Yennefer and Geralt can’t claim yet.

Jaskier’s family supports him, of course they do. He promises to return home soon.

* * *

So like, I was going to pose this as a writing prompt and offer it to anyone who wants to write it. I didn’t intend to develop it so much, but getting it out of my system helped a lot. I needed to get all those ideas out.

If it speaks to you, feel free to run with it, but please include a link to this original post or mentioned me. My ao3 is Shadowmightwrite17

(yeah, tbh, that nightmare still haunts me. I told my parents about it immediately, but I didn’t open up about it to anyone until last summer when I told my best friend about it. I was like, “did I ever tell you about that one nightmare I had where my skin was molting off my arm?” and he was like, “no. no you did not. wtf” But there was also a thing last week when I read a vaguely body-horror sentence in a Witcher fanfic about something moving under your skin and I remembered again, so like, I needed to talk about it somehow)

#jaskier #dandelion #geraskier #the witcher #geraskier fanfiction #fanfiction #my fanfic #it's past midnight I should be sleeping #i'm too tired to edit this so sorry for that

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grokebaby · 3 years

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Clarome

(this is an info post I published on one of my aminos some time ago. Only small grammarly adjustments have been made lol)

Real life backstory: Clarome was created around 2014 or so if I'm not mistaken, so a while ago. When I was still a child. I had gotten into warrior cats around those years and was very inspired. I however did not start it based purely on warrior cats, but a dream I had about it and a few characters from that. Based on this dream I made four different clans. I also decided leaders for them and deputies and so on, and introduced my friends to it and boy, it really became a huge part of our childhoods

In-story backstory: so Clarome was essentially a whole other dimension about an alternate earth where humans died of extinction in the stone age. This is not a realistic theory of what our world would've become if humans died out like that however. In fact, be ready to suspend your disbelief alot.

In this world, animals evolved into two different categories. Sapient and primitive. The sapient ones have two forms, anthro and feral (imagine furries) which they can change between at will. Some prefer to live their lives in the feral form completely, but this only means they'll walk on four legs and be non anthropomorphic like animals in our world. It doesn't affect their psychology at all. They are on the same intelligence level as humans and can be afflicted with the same neurological or mental disorders as humans. They're able to speak and feel and so on. These can be any animals you can ever imagine. Birds, reptiles, mammals, even giant bugs sometimes, but we'll get into that later.

The primitives however are mainly prey animals like rabbits, squirrels, some small bird species and so on. These are just like the ones in our world. And they can't become anything else. They're not given any agency of their own and are essentially prey. However where things get weird, is that a rabbit can be a sapient or a primitive. Just by looking at them you can't always tell. Sapient and primitive animals can't be in the same family and they pretty much will not breed with each other. It's treated as the same kind of taboo as sleeping with animals is in our world. It'd be like human going with a chimp.

Geography: Clarome is a large island roughly shaped like a mitten, with much tinier islands speckled around it. It's mostly varying levels of densely growing forest terrain, though it does change what kind of forests. There's also some areas with alot of cliff and hills, surrounded by forests. Most notable places being the Lightcliff and Earthquake Valley (which is a large canyon area). Both have historical significance. There are a few nice sandy/gravely beaches around but mostly it's just oops - water.

There's a few lakes in Clarome, none very large in the grand scheme of things. And multiple rivers.

-The clans-

🖤🐍Rattleclan🐍🖤

Originally founded by rattlesnakes, unsurprisingly, who gathered in a pine/spruce forest and made camp for themselves among the rocks. Snakes are one of the only species in Clarome who's anthro forms differ, they do not gain limbs of any kind. They can however stand taller and grow larger in their anthro form to better interact with the world around them. As time went on, Rattleclan gained alot of feline members who got along with the snakes due to the hissing ability and the versatile nature of cats in general. Due to this there's a Rattleclan originated species of snakecats, felines that have varying amounts of scales on their bodies, bigger fangs and snaketails. Later on various birds also joined Rattleclan, mostly predatory birds due to the fact that the non predatory ones have trouble getting along with any other species for obvious reasons.

In present day, Rattleclan population is more mixed but primarily consists of felines, reptiles, snakes and a few canines. Foxes are also very common.

•Rattleclan has a cave system at their disposal which they use as either a dungeon for intruders and codebreakers, or as a stock for various items.

•Unlike the other clans, Rattleclan has nighttime patrols

•Due to what their population consists of, during some especially cold winters part of, or the entirety of Rattleclan may go into hibernation. It usually lasts for as long as they feel it's too cold.

•Daughters/sons of the leader(s) are always referred to as Princes/Princesses of Rattleclan

•The Rattleclan emblem/symbol that represents them to the others, and in prophetic visions from Starclan, is a grinning black rattlesnake

🌧️🦎Rainclan🦎🌧️

Originally founded by waterlizards, which is a species originating from Clarome. It was founded just by a river, and so alot of it's population also consists of riverside/waterborne birds such as ducks, geese, and other Fisher birds. It too hosts alot of felines, with the few canines here and there. As well as any other reptiles and amphibians that can swim. It's mostly dominated by Waterlizards. It's part of their code that any and all members of Rainclan must be able to swim, and it's seen as a disgrace to be afraid of water or to not be able to swim. Fishing is an essential skill in this clan, even favored over dryland hunting sometimes. Sometimes. Portals are sometimes found underwater in the river.

•Rainclan has at least the second best stock of herbs due to their location.

•They're considered to own most of the territory along the river, all the way up to a small waterfall. The river eventually leads out of Clarome and into the ocean

🌳🐺Valleyclan🐺🌳

It was originally founded by canines, mostly wolves. The clan resides in a sheltered lowering in the landscape, defined as a valley. It's deep in the forest, where mostly leafed trees and bushes grow, and densely. As the wolves settled in, the area was originally populated by rabbits and hares. There were battles and discourse about the ownership of this plot of land, until the rabbits and wolves could finally peacefully unite into valleyclan. It did take a while to get used to living with your natural predator/prey though. Valleyclan is and usually has been one of the biggest clans of them all, also holding a large area of the forest for themselves. They've ran into border disputes with the others often, and have a bloody history with Rattleclan, which was fortunately settled by a needed change of leaders. Due to Valleyclans terrible line of leaders being all parent-child, it caused the other clans to make it so the leader decides their successor, and it isn't automatically signed to a blood heir or a deputy. They too, made it this way, but were the last ones to do so.

Valleyclan contains the most canines of any kind, foxes, forestborne birds, sapient prey animals like rabbits and hares, a little reptilians and even bears, deer, moose and wild horses at some point, but those have been so rare that they aren't seen much these days.

•Valleyclan has often suffered from overpopulation.

•They like to think of themselves as the center of the forest and often try to help or otherwise get involved into the goings of other clans. They tend to initiate the meetings between all the clans/their leaders

🌈💐Colorclan💐🌈

Second newest of all the clans at the moment. Originally founded by a (sparkle)cat and his wife and they just built it up from there, taking in anyone with a good spirit and unique self expression. They came in a little later into the area where the rest of the clans live in, which caused some discourse. Colorclan has the most diverse selection of animals and mixed creatures out of all the rest. It's also in their genetic code to be extremely bright and colorful and straight up wacky. They don't follow some of the same conventions as the rest and are often seen as the "Childish" and "Pathetic" clan of the bunch. They're very creative in their culture and a prominent part is the ability to make paint and fur dye. Not everyone is taught this but it's highly valued, and they use this paint to often mark territories and do general customization. Singing and songs is also a part of their culture

🥀💚Toxic-clan💚🥀

Newest of all the clans, Toxic clan was founded by a rather infamous exile, Morsoclaw and his best friend (named Knife-eye at the time). Followed thereafter by Morsoclaws wife(at the time) Skullrose who was a medic in Rattleclan, + an abandoned kitten they found and nursed back to health, + Knife-eye's girlfriend Fairytail. They later gained more numbers from various other exiles and clan members who didn't find their place elsewhere, as well as rogues. It's still the smallest of the clans, but has a very strong sense of unity, freedom and loyalty. Members can take more fluid roles than in the other clans, such as camp janitor, gatherer, full-time Queen and so on. Members are allowed to change their names themselves at any point in their lives if they so choose, without the involvement of the leader (Referred to as boss in this clan). It's also considered a horrendous act and punishable if someone names their child or warrior a name that purposely demeans or mocks them.

Toxic-clan aims to go against the rest of the clans in traditions and roles and thusly be better

#Lore #Clarome #fanclans #My ocs #My worlds #Embarrassing childhood ocs check #Not able to let go and gaining comfort from said childhood ocs check

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originalravager · 4 years

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“YOU KEEP STORING UP ALL THAT ANGER AND GRIEF. EVENTUALLY IT SPILLS OVER. OR YOU DROWN IN IT.”

— LEIGH BARDUGO

basics —

NAME: grant slade wilson ALIAS: ravager AFFILIATION: h.i.v.e. FACECLAIM: luke pasqualino AGE: 30 AGE OF DEATH: 19 FAMILY: slade wilson (father), adeline kane (mother, deceased), joseph wilson (younger brother), rose wilson (younger half-sister) MBTI: istp-a OCCUPATION: personal trainer, mercenary HAIR COLOR: dark brown EYE COLOR: blue HEIGHT: 6’2” SPECIES: metahuman

powers and special abilities —

ENHANCED MIND: able to utilize nine times more than a human’s full brain capacity for information processing and sorting, making his mind is virtually a computer built for strategy and problem-solving, one that works at optimal ability even when under stress and fatigue. using his superior problem-solving skills, grant can work out a battle ahead of time for many possibilities and predict enemy movements and tactics after the battle has engaged by recalling and utilizing memorized mannerisms acquired through past experience on a moment’s notice. he is also ingenious in devising solutions against superior aspects of opponents, can observe and exploit, and can calculate distance, speed, and time at lightning speeds; his sense of timing is superb, bordering on perfection.

ENHANCED REFLEXES: possesses enhanced reflexes. the speed at which he reacts allows him to dodge fast-moving projectiles such as arrows and bullets. he can usually out-react even the fastest humans, no matter how well-trained.

ENHANCED STRENGTH: his entire muscular system was hardened and strengthened, allowing grant to be “as strong as ten men”.

ENHANCED SPEED: able to run at speeds over 30mph.

ENHANCED STAMINA: can exert himself at peak capacity greater than any human could.

ENHANCED SENSES: his senses have been augmented to higher levels of ability. he can hear, see, and smell things better than a normal human.

REGENERATIVE HEALING: with an enhanced ability to heal damaged tissue, the rate at which grant’s body recovers from injury and capable of being repaired before death. as such, his body can take a tremendous amount of punishment before succumbing to death. simple gunshot and stab wounds, cuts, and broken bones can heal faster then normal. he was once impaled clean through his chest, and it did nothing but slow him down and cause great pain.

TOXIC IMMUNITY: his regenerative abilities have some affect on his body’s ability to process through harmful, foreign substances and he has become naturally immune to deadly poisons and illnesses.

HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT.

MASTER SWORDSMAN.

MASTER MARKSMAN.

TACTICAL ANALYSIS.

three headcanons —

i. grant was on the hockey team at his school growing up. he has always loved sports, becoming passionate about being out there on the ice. he ended up being great, rewarded with trophies and ribbons that his mother adeline proudly displayed in their living room. while his younger brother had been interested in art, grant was more on the athletic side. he loves watching football too, becoming a cincinnati bengals fan. adeline used to take him to games when they could afford it. these are childhood memories grant cherishes very much.

ii. many bones were broken while grant was a child. he was always getting into trouble such as jumping off of places he had no business climbing up on. grant would be sitting there with a smile on his face after getting a cast on his arm, while adeline would be stressing out about the fact he did this again, and joey asking him to stop hurting himself because he doesn’t like seeing him like that. once getting his powers less bones would get broken at the very least. sometimes grant would dig holes in their yard, and try to do dangerous stunts over them which also caused him to hurt himself. but he was just a kid, one who loves the outdoors a lot.

iii. grant taught himself how to pick locks! he practiced on their front door, tinkering with it for hours until making sense of the skill. he accidentally locked himself out once while trying to learn, and needed to master it before dinner. this became useful in adulthood when starting to be ravager more often than he thought it would. you never know when you’ll need to pick some locks.

four personality traits —

- vicious (grant enjoys violence and isn’t afraid to threaten someone he feels deserves it. in the past when allowed to carry weapons would be quick to pull a knife on someone who triggers him. now? he has to use his fists, but the cruel intentions are still there. this all stems from his short-temper. he has a soft side too, but this violent side is part of him too.)

- unstable (he could be described as being unbalanced, troubled, and deranged. grant is aware of this, but has always embraced it.)

+ confident (grant isn’t afraid to speak his mind, always preferring honesty over keeping secrets from those in his life. he likes public a speaking too, which might have to do with playing sports from such a young age. it made him unafraid and relaxed around large crowds.)

+ adaptable (he’s always able to adjust to new conditions placed in. this skill comes in handy when fighting is concerned — able to modify his techniques for any opponent.)

history —

grant slade wilson was the first born for slade wilson and adeline kane, making him the oldest of his siblings. he very fond of the outdoors as a child, always getting into something if you left him out there long enough to dig a hole or two. his parents shortly after this would being his younger brother joseph into the world — and despite being polar opposites there isn’t anything grant wouldn’t do for him. he would protect him when they were growing up and even does now too. he takes his role of being a big brother very seriously!

he pretty much idolizes his father, always preaching about how slade is the best dad there is to anyone that would listen. he loves his mother too, no doubt about being close to both of his parents, but always tried to spend as much time with his father when possible — who taught him how to shoot his first gun even!

the criminal organization known as H.I.V.E. offered to amplify grant’s abilities artificially. grant received powers and a costume reminiscent of his father’s and named himself the ravager. this all happened to him before the ban when grant was only fourteen.

he felt invincible due to his powers and started to live a proud life as a mercenary, wanting to make his father proud. grant was heading down the path of becoming a supervillain with each life that he took. this is what h.i.v.e. wanted all along from their creation. they keep an eye on him over the years, maintaining an interest in the boy.

he will end up dying while fighting the teen titans. he dies in his father’s arms after one of the tougher battles has been fought with the group of heroes. (keeping it vague to avoid god modding when it comes to who was there!) he was nineteen when all life left his body.

fast forward more than a decade to a few months ago.

his body is exhumed out of the grave his mother and father buried him in. this is done illegally.

brother blood resurrected the boy, making him appear the age he should have been if nothing ever happened to him — thirty years old. the priest held hopes to be able to control him to do what he requests. grant took the first opportunity to get out, grabbing his gear and running. he has a chance to reunite with his family and live again. he just hopes brother blood doesn’t come after him for betraying him with threats of taking away the life that was given back to him.

he has been dead for eleven years. which means he had been long gone when the ban was first introduced. he didn’t know about it until coming back to life and doing his own research. there is a lot of catching up to so on what has been missed the past eleven years. not just with politics, but with pop culture too and life in general. grant is going to do his best trying to follow the guidelines set in place by everything that is established now that there’s a second chance. who knows how well that will work out for him though being a wilson and all.

#starcintro #ɪғ ɪ ɢᴇᴛ sʜᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ɪ ᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴜʟʟᴇᴛ? [ MUSE ]#death tw #gun tw

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cha-lii · 5 years

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As a girl who grew up only with brothers and other boys on my street, can I just say Avatar: the Last Airbender helped me - actually, genuinely helped me - find my confidence and a fucking voice. Like, the majority of my childhood was spent being put down or teased by my brothers, being told that I couldn't join in games, or if I did I was only there to be saved like some damsel in distress, or being told that I was not allowed or able to do certain things because I was a girl, blah blah blah. Imagine being a young girl treated like that by boys, then watching a show like Avatar.

First, characters like Katara - who has her own brother treating her similarly in Book 1 - and Suki, who taught me so much about being confident and strong, about finding my own skills and strengths, and not letting myself be put down or told no by the boys and men in my life. Katara was told she couldn't fight simply because she was a girl, and outright refused to accept that limitation being forced upon her. Suki was treated as less skilled than she was because she was a girl, and outright proved that she was just as strong as she said she was. But then, at the same time, they showed that you can be and do all of this without losing your femininity, or becoming unattractive to boys, like girls are made to believe will happen if they come across as too smart or too strong or too independent. Hell, it was Suki's strength that made Sokka fall in love with her, if you ask me.

Then there's Toph. Now, I've always been a bit short, a bit stocky. I've never really been into fashion or make-up or anything like that. They've just never really appealed to me. And in every other show I remember watching as a child, every female character was into that, even just a little bit. Except Toph. Toph was short. Stocky. Tough (pun intended). Sarcastic. Smart. Strong. Independent. She absolutely amazed me. She was so confident in her abilities, in who she is, and she was never afraid to stand up to people who tried to tell her 'no'. And then, on top of that, the show let her be sensitive, let her have moments of vulnerability, which told me that no matter how strong or confident you are, you're still allowed to cry, and be afraid, and be open and honest with your friends, and you won't be any weaker or lesser for it.

Mai was one of my favourite characters, and I could never figure out why. But now I realise it's, again, because she was so different to the kinds of female characters I would usually see. Mai was blunt, sarcastic, deadpan. She was deadly, powerful, skilled. But she was also beautiful, and she was kind and gentle and open and happy when she was with Zuko. She loved Zuko, and Zuko loved her, and the fact that she was unconventional didn't affect that in any way. I'm a bit of a loner, and I'm quiet, and I don't especially enjoy socialising, so seeing Mai, a character who was much the same as me in those aspects, still have such beautiful, happy relationships - Zuko and Ty Lee - was such a comfort.

Which brings me to Ty Lee. She is the complete opposite of Mai. She's loud, cheerful, colourful, active. The positivity that she radiated always inspired me, encouraged me to try to find good in the bad. She was pretty much the definition of 'girly' - an expression which made my blood boil as a child - but she was still one of the most badass characters in the show, constantly immobilising even the most powerful characters. But the one thing about Ty Lee that always stuck with me was her loyalty. The scene when Ty Lee stops Azula from hurting Mai - again, immobilising arguably one of the most powerful characters in the show - even though she knew that doing so could even cost her her life, has always been one of my favourite scenes in the whole series. Here are two girls who are completely different to each other in every conceivable way, who prove that these differences shouldn't and don't matter - if you love someone, you stick with them, no matter what. If you want to be friends with someone in spite of your differences, you can be.

Even Azula taught me so much. She came across as a villain for the majority of the show, and she is definitely one of the best villains I've seen in anything, ever. But there were moments that showed how sensitive, and how afraid Azula could be. When she spoke about her mother on Ember Island, it was with longing and sadness. When she was reprimanded by her father in The Phoenix King, she looked terrified. When she drove Mai and Ty Lee away and they betrayed her, she lost her mind from loneliness and fear and hurt. And her defeat in the finale - I've genuinely never seen a defeat like it in anything else. She didn't remain cocky or confident that this wasn't the end, she didn't go quietly and angrily, she didn't swear revenge. She admitted defeat in tears, because she was terrified and ashamed, because she had let her father down, because she was just a child. There are many things that I find inexcusable. But Azula's character taught me that not all bullies are inherently cruel or malicious. Sometimes, they're a victim of cruelty or fear or pressure, and they feel the need to lash out in response or as a defence, and maybe a little bit of kindness can go a long way in helping them - if Ursa had been that wee bit kinder to Azula, maybe Azula wouldn't have been so driven to please Ozai, maybe she wouldn't have become so obsessed with power, maybe she could have gone down a similar path of redemption as Zuko.

Honestly, the women in Avatar taught me so much, so many genuinely valuable life-lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. But not just the women - the show also completely obliterated toxic masculinity.

Aang was powerful as shit, but never once shied away from being kind or sensitive or honest - all the things that boys are taught are too 'girly', Aang embraced as vital parts of who he is. Sokka was a sexist ass at first, but learned that he was wrong to treat women as weaker than men, and changed how he thought and acted towards them, becoming stronger and kinder and smarter in the process. Zuko tried so hard to be strong, and to keep getting stronger, but he understood that Azula - his younger sister - was stronger than him, and in time he learned to accept it, even asking Katara - another girl who is younger than him - to help him take her down, acknowledging both Azula's and Katara's strengths. Then there was the fact that he had such an open, loving, sincere relationship with his mother, and never once tried to pretend otherwise. Then there's fucking Iroh. Iroh is just. We should all aspire to be like Iroh. He wasn't afraid to be kind and sensitive, to be humble, to sing to children and share tea and advice and joy with strangers. I honestly attribute just about every good quality I have to Uncle Iroh and his life lessons.

Avatar as a show taught me so much about equality between genders, about diversity, about discovering yourself, about finding your confidence and strength, about friendship and loyalty and love...

Basically, just fucking watch this show.

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

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The Siren & The Healer (2)

Natasha Romanoff arc

Chapter 2: The Stranger

Platonic Natasha x fem!Reader, Loki x fem!Reader (soulmates?)

Theme: With cracks between the most powerful superheroes of the earth, Natasha Romanoff does not find rest when she is assigned on a mission to find the missing pieces of a puzzling power that once nearly got into the hands- rather, tentacles- of Hydra. In order to unearth the pieces, she must dig through her own past and make a decision that might decide the fate of the earth in the coming wars.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, friendship, and whatnot

Chapter warnings: it does not have floof. or smut. or Loki.

A/N: This was written a few years ago with an OC in mind so reader has a name but it is a reader insert.

Word Count: This weird pain in my heels has not gone away and it has been six freaking months! And I keep missing making appointments! With either of the doctors! I am so mad at myself. And I am trying to take vitamins for the same and I keep missing them too! Which reminds me I should put alarms. Which reminds me I should put alarms for this. ...and I keep missing putting up those too.

MASTERLIST in bio, love

Time: 2200 hrs

Location: Vienna

The little Iron Man funko pop had been entertaining you for the last two hours when the remaining contents of Harry’s table could not. By now you were practically half lying on his table, the chair rolling to and fro while you hummed the tune to Tender’s Nadir, bobbing your head like your little friend to the rhythm. Harry’s colleague- another assistant professor in the department- had come by to collect his stuff from his desk while you waited. “Why don’t you leave and he’ll come when he can,” he had mentioned, drawing a stare of judgment from you. Leave him? What am I? A monster? I can’ just ‘leave’ him. He’s Harry, man! Shut your trap hole!

"I'm so sorry Koshu. I had to collect some assignments from the students." Harry started with loud gasps of breath before he’s even entered the room. You were kinda bummed he knew you were there. You really wanted to surprise him. Though you had to say, you loved seeing him all flustered. It was quite a rare sight for you. You always so calm and composed friend never broke a sweat no matter how hard things were. Well, the things that were hard for you were a smooth sail for Harry. Even though you’d both come here to study and research in artificial intelligence, you had just dropped out of the course after the first semester and taken to teaching minor courses and skills while learning some yourself. He, on the other hand, had been acing it ever since he got here, winning scholarships and accolades. Not to mention the hearts of all ladies and interested men. And what did Harry do about it? Be as innocently unaware about it all as your crush on him. Stupid son of a sexy goofball!

"Look at you, all red and sweaty! I bet Sammy would love to have you now." you giggled.

Harry stood beside you for a second, blank, until he realised what you meant and flushed a fresh batch of red. Yeah, exes tend to have then effect sometimes. A part of you was glad to have that woman out of the picture- that part being the whole of you. No one wants a toxic girlfriend who wants you because you’re hot and then thinks she rather not because ‘I don’t know, Harry, you’re not as outgoing as I thought my boyfriend would be.’ She should have been glad you were on another continent at that time.

"Yeah. Whatever. Hey, I have to grade these assignments so why don't you head home. I'll finish these and then come back,” Harry admitted before wiping the sweat off his forehead. Ugh! Stop it you tease! Your inner voice was really having a day.

"What? Take them home! I'll cook us some pasta or Indian if you are craving some. Get comfy and then grade these bitches."

Harry raised his brows at you.

“That was for the papers. Not for you students....who do comprise of certain stuck ups if you ask me.”

He blinked before shrugging and nodding in agreement. Hesitating for a moment, he remained quiet, the corner of his lips twitching where it met his beard.

"Yeah, I'm comfy here. You go ahead."

It was your turn to raise arch your brow at him.

"Dude! Stop it!” you lectured, raising her hands in the air. “It’s okay for you to do the laundry but it’s not okay if I cook food for the both of us? And it’s not like I’m a bad cook that you avoid eating my hard work. This is called sharing responsibilities, something, I clearly remember, you lectured me on when we first came here. And I like cooking, it’s like a stress-buster. And I make awesome Indian food and a mean Chicken Alfredo."

“...”

“I do...don’t I?”

"Yeah, that you do."

"Thank God. So come home, you twat. Pack those things and let's move. I'm hungry. Let's go before I eat your brains."

Harry smiled sheepishly at his failed attempt for a second and then beamed with happiness from within.

"Alright. Go heat up the car. I'll bring all the material with me.”

You got up with a gush of new energy flowing inside you. Taking the keys from him, you walked for the door.

“Oh! And don't leave without me okay?" He called out from behind you, making you stop, turn and give him a narrow-eyed look. Harry laughed and dodged the duster you threw at him. "Jerk," you hissed through your teeth as you started walking towards the parking lot.

It was only seven in the evening but the sky had already bid goodnight. There were barely any students on the campus. You could hear EDM being played at a distance at some frat house or in someone's dorm. Kids, you thought to yourself, as if mocking them. And then again, you thought to yourself, kids- but now with wistful faraway happiness.

There were only four cars in the parking lot. An old Camry that belonged to a history professor who took night classes. Another one was a Bentley that belonged to a highly infamous professor of Personality Development. The man taught more about himself than about personalities. You never liked that guy.

This guy creeps me out from a mile away, your insides would always remind you.

The last one was an unknown SUV that stood a few meters away from Harry's car. It did not belong to any student or staff you knew.

You took a good look at it as you crossed it and moved to Harry's second hand, Honda. If there was anything Harry and you loved in common more than food, and a bit less than animals, it was this sweet lady. One could find notes, spare T-shirts, cologne, deodorants and much more in there. It could easily be called your second home.

Both of you had spent nights sleeping through all the tipsy- after wild parties during the first year- in this baby. This one had been with you when you’d got here and did not have a dark corner to cry in. Or when you and Harry needed to run away from the buzz of the city and escape into the mountains to rest under the stars and talk about all your deepest desires, darkest secrets and nethermost questions about life and purpose. Not to mention, you’d cleaned up this baby on Harry’s first date just so this guy would get some action- which clearly didn’t happen for this terribly shy guy. This car had been a constant in it all and had even been knighted with a name.

“Hey Bunny! Did you miss mama? How was my girl today?”

You were about to open Bunny’s door when your eyes went back to the SUV.

Matte black. Alloy wheels, clearly not of cheap quality. Weird number plate which was not from the state and a little metallic sword that hung from the rearview mirror inside- reflecting the lights from the parking lot right into your eyes.

Something did not feel right. You stood there for a few seconds looking in the parking lot for any sign of the owner.

“It is supposed to look intimidating.”

You jumped at the voice behind you.

A man came out of the shadows of the trees. He was wearing a grey suit and a pin bent in the shape of an eye with what seemed to be a ruby in the middle.

You closed Bunny’s door and locked the vehicle, carefully placing the car keys between your fingers so as to point them away from you and put the other hand around your bag. You took two steps back into the middle of the parking lot, standing visibly under the lights.

“I’m sorry, Sir, do I know you?”

The man stepped into the light. The wrinkles on his face made him look a bit over forty but his well-fitted suit around his body made him look younger and muscular. His grey eyes looked right into yours with a hint of a smile on his thin smooth lips.

“No, ma’am. But I have heard about you.”

You stepped further back into the most lit part of the lot.

“Can I help you, sir?”

You just now noticed the restraint in your voice- into a softer, smoother version of how you normally talked. This always happened when you were intimidated by the person standing in front of you.

“I have been looking for someone who could help me with this concept that is completely out of my league. But considering the things that are at stake, I was hoping you could help me.”

You looked in his direction, confused. More than that, you were frustrated, wondering where the campus guards were.

“I am talking about healing and meditation studies. A few kids who are visiting Europe on a foreign exchange program have shown some interest in getting certified in the course. And I heard you have some sort of experience with that thing.”

The man smiled, this time, his lips extended a bit more while his eyes still stayed grey. Your entire body feel a cold jitter all at once. His eyes. There was just something unsettling about them. Like they were looking right through your clothes, skin, flesh, and bones.

“Oh! I’m sorry sir. I taught last semester and that was that. I no longer teach or practice it. But you can find teachers for the same more capable than me in the classes going on right now. In fact, the students can directly contact them. Their information is available on the university website.”

The man tilted his head a little as if he was questioning something you just stated.

“Really? You stopped teaching the course? But why? I met some of your students and they gave me really amazing reviews regarding your teaching methods.”

You felt drops of sweat trickle down your back. For a few seconds there, all you did was just blink and feel the fierceness of your heart trying to rise up a little. Finally, you gave a weak smile before answering. “It wasn’t suitable for me. I mean the timings and the hours I had to put in. It was sort of taking a toll on my health. So I don’t do it anymore. I don’t take classes. Neither do I freelance.”

The man was silent for a second while you felt her phone in her jacket. One wrong step and you were ready to press the button of wrath.

“So you’re telling me that healing and meditation took a toll on you.”

You let out one long tired sigh. Here we go. You’d heard that phrase before, more times than you could count.

“Yes, sir”, you muttered, your voice suddenly growing tired, “it does take a toll on you if you’re not careful.”

You wanted to take a look behind you to see if Harry was approaching but did not turn for the fear of the unknown now standing in front of you.

“Careful about what?”

“The things you work on, the ailments for example, who you work with, what energy you are going to work upon slash with,'' you stressed, though stressing as little as you could on the ‘energy’ bit.

“Oh! Like if someone was, say, in an accident, you wouldn’t treat them because that might take a toll on your health. So, you’d rather that person suffer than be treated by you.”

The statement took you by surprise. You had been thinking the man was a sceptical old pervert but here he was asking you questions a healer’s heckler noob does not play with so early.

“Excuse me?” you lost your voice a little. “Sir, it’s a lot more complica—”

The man looked away from you to take out a card from his jacket and hold it out for you to take.

“Why don’t you tell me all about it tomorrow at 8:15 am? Your ride’s here so let’s continue this tomorrow. I’m sure being a healer you have a good reason to not heal someone. Even a…” he paused, his dead eyes looking straight into yours, “loved one.”

And suddenly you were not standing in the parking lot anymore. The dead eyes stayed there with you as everything around you seemed to fade into the distance. Only the eyes, your cold body sweating and a familiar old voice shouting out for you from somewhere far away were present in the void.

Keosha.

You could almost recognize that faint noise accompanying it. A fade white noise was what it seemed to be initially. A part of your mind tried to filter out where exactly where it was coming from.

Keosha.

It grew closer but now it was somewhat different. You thought you heard someone scream somewhere in the distance.

“Keosha!” Harry shook your arm.

You jumped back into reality, nearly a feet away from Harry’s grasp.

“Hey! Daydreamer!” He called out for you, taking one careful step towards you so as not to scare you away again. “You okay? Where did you go?”

You supported yourself on Bunny. Harry noticed the slow blinks, realising you had been living through some part of your wayward imagination that was not a pleasant one. So, he did what he always did during such times. Rubbing your back to soothe you before taking you in a light embrace.

Your heart was comforted by Harry’s presence, thanking him repeatedly for being there. Your mind was all over the place, looking around you for the cause of this sudden crack inside your mind. The old man was gone.

“Sorry I just got lost in…something. Should we go? We should go.”

Your body worked on its own, getting into the car, closing the door, putting on a radio station to drown out the echo of words left behind.

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radioactive-park · 4 years

Text

Dogpoo Petuski Application

IN CHARACTER:

Name: Devin “Dogpoo/Dogtooth/Dev” Petuski - I am fully aware that it isn’t his name, but I can’t take Dogpoo as a name seriously (There will be something in ‘bio’ about that) Age: 24 years old Gender (pronouns): Cis male, he/him Sexuality: Pansexual? Bisexual? Who knows! Occupation/Role: Owns a butchery type deal. Does alright taxidermy on the side. Goes out hunting regularly. Location/Faction: Centennial City Personality: - Devin is at first glance, quiet and introverted. Deciding that, since he lives in the ’big,scary city’, he would rather be a loner and not speak to many people outside work circumstances. This, combined with trust issues is not a fun combo. While he does hate it sometimes, he knows that is what keeps him safe. When he does speak to people however, he does it with the utmost respect and manners. Having manners might just make someone’s day, after all. He always tries to have a very positive outlook, or well, as positive as one could be in the wasteland. Always walking with a smile on his face, but don’t be fooled into thinking that he is naïve or gullible. He is very quick to realize when he’s been lied to. - He can get very protective of who and what he cares about, to the extent that he’d rather die trying than give up what’s being protected. - He keeps his promises and stays loyal to those who stay loyal to him, until given reason not to be. - He has literally no patience for snobby/bitchy types. It is the only time he doesn’t stick to being friendly. If a snobby type enters the butchery, don’t be surprised if he tells you to fuck off. - Unless you’ve personally hurt him a lot, he will not hold a grudge. He will shrug it off and, you guessed it, not care. - A brave bastard. He will not even flinch if you pull a gun or knife on him (Unless you’re, as an example, a CC military type). Stupid brave, to put it simply. - Has slight abandonment issues, but hey, can’t be abandoned if there’s nobody to abandon you. Bio (It’s not up to Gregory’s app’s standard I apologise x-x): Born and raised in Centennial city, where he still lives to this day.

At the time of his birth, Devin was nameless. His parents, back then, were completely clueless on what to name their baby boy. Like most wasteland parents they feared that he wouldn’t manage to live long. That, even when they were living inside the safe walls of the city, danger would still swoop in and take him from them. So, he was simply referred to as ’son’ and ’boy’ to start with.

His parents ran a butchery in the city, a surprisingly successful one at that. One night, when Devin was barely a year old still, his father offered to watch him while his mother was out buying a few things for the house. His father, somewhat careless, left him to crawl around and play with some things while he was busy preparing what would be sold the next day. Devin took interest in the family’s dog, who often stood by in case he could possibly get meat scraps. When the dog walked off to go outside for…business, Dev followed close by. By the time his father realized he was missing, he was just…sitting outside, playing with, you guessed it, the dog’s poop. Can’t really blame him for it, he was just a little kid. A baby. That earned him the nickname ’Dogpoo’. Originally his mother was against it, it was a very silly nickname to go by, but she was reasoned with to accept it. Said that it was only a temporary nickname. They were still unsure whether he would live past the age of 5. Nothing personal or against him, they loved him very much, but with the amount of dangers in the wasteland it was a possibility that he would die young.

That was not the case.

Through the years, to his parents’ surprise, he managed to stay alive. From a young age, he showed interest in following in his parents’ footsteps. So, they taught him everything they knew. Proper hunting, skinning, knowing what cuts are used for what, what to dispose of and watch out for, even things like sewing, reading and a hint of writing. He also learned how to cook a variety of foods from a variety of items, not only meat. He avoided joining the CC’s ranks as a guard or mercenary, rather slowly started helping more and more around the butchery.

It took him until the age of about 11 or 12 to realize what he is called, and what it was. At 16, he also figured out that his parents weren’t sure that he would live as long as he did, which is why he didn’t really have a proper name. He hated being known only by a dumb nickname purely for his mistake as a baby. He was being mocked for it behind his back, he was sure of it. So he slowly began reading up and figuring out what he would name himself. He asked for suggestions. Wrote down possible names. Anything. If people asked about his name, about ’Dogpoo’, he would say that it was misheard. That it was actually ’Dogtooth’. He stuck with that every time he was asked. While out hunting on his own for the first time, he had his first run in with something that would not die easily by a few shots from a hunting rifle. He wasn’t afraid of it, rather cautious and curious. It wasn’t until he was pinned down, blood streaming down his face from being clawed that he realized he made a mistake getting close to it. He barely made it out alive, and if it wasn’t for the beast seeing other humans messing with it’s nest, he probably would have died right then and there. He still has the scars. Another time, not too soon after that, he experienced radiation for the first time ever. He could feel it damaging him almost, but he would not be defeated by it. He didn’t want to become a ghoul either from making stupid decisions. This was where he started putting together gasmasks of his own design from old, broken ones he had bought, traded for or found. One was based of a dog, similar to the family dog years back. The other was based off what he called a ’tusk-beast’, a weird animal he saw in form of a broken, ruined statue in the city. Those would protect him to an extent, and hide his face.

Fast forward to 2279, almost 2280. One day, Dogpoo was left in charge of the butchery for the day, while his parents went out for their weekly hunting trip. It was a quiet day, not too much going on in terms of sales. He spent his time removing the guts from the baby gecko who would become the taxidermized mascot of sorts for the place, Steven. It started getting later and later, but rather than fearing the worst, Dogpoo accepted that his parents had possibly gotten lost, or had decided to camp out for the night. He made a promise to himself that he would keep running the family business, rather than closing it for the time being. He knew that they would be proud of him for it. Only recently, a few months back to be exact, he took the day to make it official, that he was named Devin, that nobody could argue. Not even his parents.

Up until this day, though, he is still waiting for their return. Not as Dogpoo Petuski, but as Devin Petuski.

Headcanons: - This boy has never learned to shoot anything other than a variety of hunting rifles. - Fairly skilled with knives, cleavers and saws, only because of the butchery. - Has a huge claw scar across his face from getting attacked by some creature while out hunting. Very self-conscious about it. - He tends to pay others for meat, just in case it runs out or he couldn’t find anything on his own. He doesn’t care what type of meat it is, as long as it’s still semi-edible and not completely toxic it’s fine. - Strong distaste for human flesh, but will sell it under names such as ’Squirrel-on-a-stick’ or ’Iguana bits’. What you don’t know won’t hurt you. - The uses of the gasmasks: The dog one is worn when working. The elephant one is worn when out and about, either hunting, scavenging, or whatever the case might be. It is very rare to see him in public without the masks. He wears them for various reasons - Protection against radiation, to hide his scar and to hide his embarrassment for being called and known as ’Dogpoo’ for most of his life. - He goes by ’Dogtooth’ around strangers, such as butchery customers and traders. Only once he feels he could trust the person, or the person knows his name, he’s okay with going by ’Devin’. - It is unknown how he keeps the place cold. He doesn’t even know. Wouldn’t catch him complaining, though. - He literally has no idea about anything or anyone outside of the CC and the small radius around it where he hunts. - He has been trying to perfect his taxidermy technique. His only successful one so far has been a baby gecko. He stands in the corner next to the door of the butchery. Dev calls him ’Steven’. - Dev can read numbers and do basic equations (add, subtract, multiply, divide). He keeps a small notebook in which he writes down things such as expenses, money made for the day, how much he has to pay people and so on. - No, the money made is not kept at the butchery, nor does he keep it on him. So don’t even try to rob him. - Will try to befriend anyone and everyone. Very friendly, even to those who are not friendly towards him…. In most cases. - Seems to speak with a slight Canadian accent. - Not afraid to get dirty - No matter if it’s mud, blood, or anything else. - This boy hasn’t had a decent haircut since he was born. When it gets too long, he cuts it himself. Send help. - He sticks to the laws, rules and regulations of the city to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. - He is a pretty decent wasteland chef and yes, he will make you food if you ask him to. (Once again, if something needs to be changed, I have no problem with doing so)

#application #submission #accepted #south park #south park rp

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alchemist-shizun · 5 years

Text

I Can See My Kingdom Now

Read on Ao3!

Chapter 3: Time and again boys are raised to be men

Word Count: 10,176

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Deceit.

Pairing(s): Eventual Logicality and Prinxiety. (hints to Royality, they’re forced into an arranged marriage)

Warnings: -Mild cursing (there's just one cuss word) -Minor character death -Negative thoughts -Panic attack -Insomnia -Some kind of selective mutism -Toxic parental behavior -Mentions of hallucinations -Food mention -Self-esteem issues and self-deprecation

Summary: Growing up isn't easy for anybody. Especially when you're the new around, when you feel like you lost everything or when it seems you have the world against you.

A/N: Or of how I’m projecting slightly into one of the characters. As for the next update, I don't have much ready so you'll have to be waiting a bit for it, nothing specific this time. I'm currently working on a Prinxiety one-shot that I hope I can release soon, plus in September I'll be participating in the little event with daily prompts dedicated to the series. Also, I'll be soon starting the last year of high school, so updates will be definitely slower, but I won't give up, promise. Thank you for sticking around till now, I'll hear from you soon!

✾

❝ You are broken and callow Cautious and safe You are boundless in beauty With fright in your face ❞

The first years through his “learning how to be a valuable prince” had passed, and Roman was already grateful for the castle servants, who seldom sneaked in his room extra food. It wasn't like they were making it too hard for him and basically throwing knowledge at him or expecting him to be a natural and ace every single lesson.

His teachers adjusted to him, they let him take his time and were more than happy to explain concepts more than once.

It was just that he felt like he had to learn how to live all over again: first came posture, back at the orphanage none really cared if you were walking, skipping along the pavement, even running at times.

Here you had to keep your body in a particular position, your head straight, especially among other aristocrats. Your step had to be measured, every part of your body talked for you most of the times.

A step back could mean disdain, fright, a step forward could be interest, trust, a hand towards you is a chance to dance or an offer for a hug.

Roman had met many nobles, apart from the royals from Tinfea, after he came back to the palace; they all wanted to congratulate his parents and meet the famous lost prince. The story they knew was that a naïve servant had let the gates open and he had wandered outside by himself until he got lost for good.

As a child, he liked the attention of numerous people, but how to behave around them wasn't exactly his expertise.

Every time he did something unusual, the strangers would mention how adorable he was. His parents would smile and stroke his hair gently, a sign that, regardless of his inexperience, he was doing a good job.

To help him to get used to it, servants that casually met him in the hallways reminded him of his posture. Eventually, he got there.

While also practicing that, which reminded him to always look up to people and never look down on them, he learnt what kind of behavior he had to keep during meals, which silverware to use, how many servings there were in each meal, which one was his reserved seat.

To make it fun, he established a game between him and his parents: it consisted on guessing the food that was going to be served by the kitchen servants. It was a secret between him and the cook, but he'd occasionally sneak in the kitchen to get a “general idea”, as he liked to call it, of the possibilities. He totally wasn't cheating. Besides, he loved how his parents compared him to a magician every time he succeeded.

They made everything easier for his age, enjoyable even.

Everyday he learnt something new and everyday he was aghast: it happened even as he woke up in his chambers for the first time.

He had been woken up by the gentle daylight of the morning that was peering through the translucent curtains, pulled apart by one of the servants he had seen going around the corridors before going to sleep.

He had tried to snuggle closer to the covers and the pillows, shielding himself from the eventual tasks he had to complete during the day.

The servant had approached him and, with honey-like words, they persuaded him to get up. Only that he was simply expected to sit up on his bed.

Ever since he came to the castle, a servant would meet him in the morning to wake him up, then they'd be helped by a couple more to bring in the room a dressing table with a mirror, a chair, some objects and utensils they needed, meanwhile one of them would look into a wooden case full of rich fabrics that Roman didn't even know to distinguish.

The servants always helped him get up on his feet, they led him to the chair to sit down and they washed his face, his hair got combed and treated with products that made them soft and perfumed. Different types of oils and creams were smeared every day on his skin as they undressed him, careful not to get the night vest dirty.

No wonder they forced him to take a hot bath every night.

When they were done with that he got up, almost completely naked, and they proceeded to help him put on his clothes, which were layers on layers of various types of cloth. He didn't even know all of their names.

He looked at his minute figure on the tall mirror nailed on the wall which was perpendicular to the bed: splashes of red, gold, white and black blinded his sight as he noticed his hair tied at the nape of his neck.

After breakfast he had his first lessons of reading and writing in the library; his teacher was the same one that taught him about the history of their kingdom. She was an old lady with a streak of bright green in her white hair and a perpetual knowing look that made her seem like she had lived as long as the planet had existed. As if she knew everything there was to know.

Roman had always found her somewhat intimidating, which led to an ever-growing respect towards her: in a couple of months he had been able to read fluently and write with little to no mistakes.

The lady was amazed at how he kept practicing and demanding for books narrating fables. To the point that, unable to stop herself, she finally asked.

« What is it that interests you so much? » she lent him the second book that week, she was afraid she would run out of them soon. She made a mental note to send a man to the nearest kingdom.

« They remind me of the village I was in. » he said, eyeing the book cover with enthusiasm.

« How so? »

« I used to make up stories with a friend! » he looked up at her with a warm smile « Father said I'll visit him soon. » he added, excitement in his eyes.

Something sour set in the lady's mouth. She knew better, as always.

She couldn't help but smile back and place her hands her hips.

« Perhaps after you learn a bit of those history lessons I gave you, will you? A prince has to know everything about his kingdom if he wants to rule someday, understood? »

He let out a small huff « Of course, ma'am. »

She pat his head. « That's good. » and, as she stared at his back to check his posture while he walked away, a sad look couldn't help but make its way through her face.

After Roman had mastered all the first lessons, he was taught how to speak properly in the presence of nobles, elders, young people and the plebs in general. It was a surprisingly young servant that helped him, since sometimes it could happen that some wise and skilled enough servants could be “promoted” as teachers for the king's children.

All the letters in front of the prince seemed to swirl around his head and pressing at both sides when he looked at all the different meanings a single word could have. All the different ways that you could say something so that you could be understood by all types of audiences. The best moments were when he used the wrong linguistic register and he ended up talking to a kid the way you would treat an emperor.

At the same time he took up art lessons with that same servant. Roman found out they were not only good at how to behave with someone but they could also make the nicest instant portraits. The first one she did of him, he hanged it right after in his room, on the side of his half-empty bookshelf he asked his parents to bring in after a couple of gifts from his history teacher.

The second reaction was simply a request to teach him how to be as good as them. So they started going out of the palace daily, then into the gardens, to just sit down and draw from reference. He kept trying, transforming nature in swirls of colors and pencil figures.

Before he could say he was pretty good at it, a couple of years would have to pass, but he was content enough with just staying outside and enjoy the artistic point of view his servant offered him.

Twice a week, on the other hand, they stayed inside and flipped through a history of art book, full of pictures and analysis of the paintings or architectures.

Then, there was one of Roman's favorite things: he began sword fighting lessons. A valuable prince needed to have an eclectic knowledge and skills, but most of all if he wanted to protect a whole kingdom, he had to be able to protect himself first.

One of the Royal Guard's knights was lent to teach him; Roman believed he was going to have one of those basic lessons in which you went into the backyard of the castle, out of earshot not to disturb anyone with the clanging noise of metal.

Never in his life he would have imagined to be led into a ballroom and met with a curly dark petrol-haired man and a mischievous smile: he had two perfectly created wooden swords behind his back, like a ninja about to unsheathe his own katanas.

Roman approached the man with a confused yet composed look and when he stopped a few feet away, he held that stare.

The knight's expression shifted to a thoughtful one, never leaving that slight curve of his lips; he saw Roman, a tiny child, refraining from taking his eyes off of him, a well-trained man from the Royal Guard. And he didn't find fear in those honey-like irises, he was expectant. Rigid, but ready.

At this point silence had been enough to still keep her around. The knight threw a sword at the boy with no warning, it was definitely a test for his reflexes.

It was a habit that he always did with his new apprentices, it felt like some kind of superstitious gesture, if the person didn't catch it was probably going to have a lot of trouble teaching. On the other hand if they did …

The knight could only watch as the hilt of the wooden sword flew in Roman's hand, perfectly adjusting to his grip.

… well, it was going to be fun.

« I like you. »

The prince flashed him a satisfied smile.

The older man got a few steps closer and leaned down, Roman could see the red in his eyes that previously he thought was an unusual shade of brown.

« Shall we dance? »

Always busy with lessons and writing down stories to read to his loving parents, Roman found himself being fifteen, the village and its inhabitants was a distant memory he couldn't have the luxury to think about.

He didn't even realize he stopped asking about Virgil. He didn't realise he stopped thinking about him or the orphanage. It was less hurtful to pretend it all didn't exist than accept he would have never been able to come back. They hated him by now, probably.

His history lessons were so persistent he could now recite all his ancestors' lives backwards. Or in alphabetic order. Or in any kind of order, really. As he let go of the lessons he had mastered, new ones would come up almost instantly and, sometimes, take away even more time than the ones he had before.

Not that he wanted to complain, he'd be exhausted enough to have no trouble sleeping and never waking up a single time in the middle of the night. Which made the actual waking up ten times more challenging.

But most of all, he loved a lot of the lessons he got. Especially singing. You don't know where Roman is and it's time for his daily walk around the front garden's sculptures? He's probably moving around a large room and singing his heart out.

What was frustrating but also very surprising was how good he sang, as if he was a natural, born to entertain those around him with enchanting melodies.

His teacher couldn't believe it the first time he heard him. Soon enough, they had started a duet of voice and harp strings, creating symphonies in every different possible way.

Sometimes they really had to drag him out of rooms to participate to at least thirty minutes of his other teachings, and yes, a prince needs to know about the gods, the pontifex can't do everything by themselves.

Roman walked down the castle's external stairs, as white as the clouds above him, he occasionally thought that maybe there was a spell keeping them so clean and candid.

There was an old sage leading him towards the marble sculptures that ran along the garden's limit. Same impeccable color of the castle.

Nothing got ruined in their royal bubble, it seemed there was an invisible defense around their property. That was were the odd legend of their kingdom came from.

« Remember this one? » the sage, another one of the teachers, pointed to the marble figure they were standing in front of, halfway through the garden.

« Yes. » Roman studied the sculpture, an androgynous-looking anthropomorphic god stared him down, eyes white and empty, they had a crown on their half extended left arm, with bifurcated tips at the top.

The other hand kept their vest up, pressing it on their chest, over their heart. The pattern on it displayed, in a bas-relief, detailed and messy curves and swirls.

« The God of Death, ruler of the Underworld, also called “Dark Kingdom”. That's the reason of the crown. » the old man nodded, satisfied with the answer, but that wasn't where Roman had finished. « The vest suggests the symbol of dark magic, as they were believed to be the First Sorcerer. »

« You could have stopped before … »

Roman arched an eyebrow, it was unlikely for a man like him to be skeptical towards the Forbidden Topic. « I'm not afraid of two words. »

« You're aware of the reason why we refrain to mention it, aren't you? »

« I am. But I don't think it is right to belittle a God, or conceal one of their most important features, only because of a human dilemma. Isn't it impious to bend a deity's description to a mortal rule? » Roman turned back to his teacher, expecting a frown on the man's face.

Instead, the facade the sage was keeping up suddenly fell, only to be replaced by a satisfied and content expression; he pat the top of the boy's head while nodding slightly.

« Very good, Roman. I take you've read those books I suggested? »

The little prince showed a sheepish smile. « I guess I enjoy myths. »

Their conversation went on, the topics somehow brushing philosophy at times, but was soon abruptly interrupted by the loud noise of hooves on the stone pavement between the two sections of the garden.

Their glances turned towards the entrance, where a carriage was let in through the gates.

Both prince and sage straightened their postures and waited for the mysterious person to show themselves. They didn't expect a boy around Roman's age to come out of the carriage, all dressed up as an obvious piece of nobility, by himself.

As he got closer, Roman could notice the sneering look that engulfed him, red hair almost looked like fire under the hit of the sun rays.

The boy stopped a few feet away from them, then bowed down. « I am Desmond Ananke, marquis of the kingdom of Elis. » when he looked up, he found himself transfixed by those pitch-black eyes, as dark as a moonless night, or the moment right before your eyes adjust to the blackness of a room.

He felt dizzy for a second, was that even natural? Magic?

He came back to life when he felt the sage's hand being placed on his shoulder, when he looked over to the teacher he surprisingly found a sour expression. Roman decided to just nod at the boy, a cue for him to state the meaning of the visit.

« My parents agreed upon sending me for the monthly donation we had planned decades ago. » he turned his head to the older man. « I'm positive you wouldn't mind if I helped myself up the stairs to meet the sovereigns. » a smirk was all he needed to show for the man to understand.

He stayed silent for a few beats, then let go of the prince and stepped aside.

Desmond, before excusing himself, got a closer look to the boy. « So you must be the famous Roman Bia, I suppose. » he held his hand towards him, if he expected a handshake, he wasn't ready for the marquis to take his own hand and place a kiss on the top of his knuckles.

He looked up at him, Roman's hand still close to his lips « Your surname means “brutal strength”. I wonder if your delicacy can contrast that. »

Roman had no clue what that meant, he felt Desmond's stare on him, the warmth his hand was irradiating on his skin and the general discomfort of the whole situation. Was he supposed to answer? Was it a compliment? Did he know …

« I wonder if you're aware our prince is only fifteen and has been promised to the prince of Tinfea for five years by now. » Roman was glad his sword fighting teacher had come to the rescue, he was probably being late to his lesson.

The marquis eyed him, his smile slightly faltered and he carefully snatched his hand away.

Without any further word, he excused himself and began pacing towards the palace.

Roman had retrieved his hand as if he had just touched a burning pot, only that the only fire he felt right under his skin was dancing around his cheeks and ears because of the embarrassment. He looked at the place where the marquis once stood with a confused expression.

What was his deal?

« That motherf- »

« Language! »

« Gods! » the knight put his hands on his face and slid them up on his hair in a desperate gesture. « Stop lecturing me, dad. »

« I am not your father. » the sage gave him a puzzled look while the knight rolled his eyes.

« Maybe when you stop treating me like a child, you won't be. Well! » he clasped his gloved hands together and turned to a silent Roman that was wondering whether or not he should have let them have their moment and leave. « Ready for your lesson, kid? » Roman simply nodded.

They excused themselves from the elder and the knight, Crowley was his name, as he finally recalled, slid his arm around Roman's shoulder in a friendly way, only to lower down a little and speak to him more clearly.

« Look, that guy from before? Bad news. » he made a face. « I'll tell you, just because our kingdom is so awesome, the more outer people try to take advantage and benefit from us. »

« They're envious? »

« That's an understatement, but yeah, pretty much. » Roman felt some kind of burning feeling in his chest.

« Can't they just focus on improving their own kingdom instead of taking things from us? »

Crowley grinned. « Oh, is our prince getting bitter? »

« Hah. Not at all. I'm keeping my cool here. I'm in perfect conditions. » he flashed him a perfectly constructed smile. « See? »

« Sure, my lord. In perfect conditions of pretending, should I call the jester and tell him to call some actors to join you? »

« Oh, gladly, thank you so much. »

As they entered the fighting room, chuckling, they made their way towards their steel swords and started their usual sparring.

« Still, you should know … » the swords kept on clashing with no result. « … that boy from before talked about a donation. »

Roman started to lose some ground. « Yes? I never heard of that. »

« In my opinion, it's stupid. Arcadia has to donate part of our treasure to help other kingdoms. »

« What? » Roman's movements looked even more aggressive, tenacious.

« Apparently, it's the only way to assure they don't move war against us. » he sighed as Roman made a mistake in his posture, but regained it quickly.

« Wouldn't that lead us to eventually fall? It's not like the gods gift us gold every month. »

« That's what I've been saying. And the king's advisor too. They're ruining us anyway, this is only the slower method, the king said. »

« This is ridiculous. » the knight noticed Roman was basically throwing all his hits on him.

« I know, not to mention that marquis clearly wanted to woo you. »

« Woo me? »

« He wanted to marry you, to, of course, get your nobility status from the kingdom's alliance. There's no love there. » Crowley noticed Roman's expression hardening with rage. « Only strategy. » the prince scoffed, annoyed. « Like a mere tool. »

That's when Crowley realized his tactic was working and, in a matter of seconds, he found his sword clattering to the floor. Roman stopped moving, awed by his own doing and looked up to his teacher both smiling widely.

« Well done, kid. » he reached to pat his head, but Roman ignored that and wrapped his hands around him in a happy hug. He literally started screaming of joy.

« Gods, I did it! Did you see that? Did you see how I landed that sword? That was awesome! » he trailed off complimenting himself and pacing around the room, excitement printed on his face.

Crowley, amused, kept on watching Roman's little burst of happiness. Still, he realized it was now time for him to let other lessons take up his time. Like …

« Courting. This guy needs to learn courting. »

He was sixteen when it happened. Roman was enjoying one of the books his literature teacher had recommended, sitting at the library's table. He loved those lessons and was waiting for them to start.

His eyes lit up when he heard the door opening, but he never expected to find one of his servants and a gloomy expression. They approached him and took his hand while watery eyes threatened to start tearing up.

« Crowley is dead. »

That was the last thing he heard before zoning out, his heart sank and he felt numb; his hearing stopped working, it was as if the servant was talking to an inanimate object. They continued talking about how he died while helping a kingdom in a battle and was found lifeless, but Roman's mind couldn't process any more information.

Crowley is dead.

He could still see his mischievous red eyes in the corner of his own, now covered by a tragic and dark veil, his mouth agape as if he wanted to say something but there was nothing else to say at the same time. It was written all over his face.

Crowley is dead.

The servant brought him back to consciousness by touching his shoulder, the memory of his teacher doing the same burned in his mind, tears welled up in his eyes and found the strength to sprint away from a startled servant and run down the castle halls.

Crowley is dead.

He knew who he was looking for. His sight was clouded, making it harder to recognize his surroundings. He didn't care he was running, he didn't care his sobs could have been audible from outer space. He received concerned but knowing looks by anyone he crossed paths with. Then he found the room.

Crowley is dead.

His trembling hand turned the shiny and cold handle that almost blinded him. After closing the door behind him he rushed over to the person he knew needed comfort the most, just like him.

Roman hugged the sage, Nicephorus, he hugged him tight and pretended they didn't notice each other's red eyes. They also pretended they didn't hear their crying, seemingly unstoppable. Nicephorus pretended he didn't lose who could have seemed like his son, Roman pretended he didn't lose the brother he never had.

You can never judge whether someone's life was happy until it's gone.

Roman was seventeen. He was also finally allowed to make little trips outside of the palace and meet his people: he went mostly around the center, where his parents didn't prohibit him to go. Seven years kept inside the castle, busy with his education and getting to know his parents and kingdom, and everything about the village was now long gone from his mind, a distant memory he didn't dig into anymore.

Saying that he was well recognized by his people was an understatement. The people loved him. They cheered for him when his carriage made its way towards the center's plaza. He'd greet every single one of them, he let them hold his hands, he kissed little children's heads and willingly let them lead him through the city.

He wasn't like those royal people that looked down on the plebs with indifference from their carriages, he enjoyed interacting with others, being able to confront his life with the one of the others.

He often listened to their problems and realized that this type of confrontation helped the royalty greatly in fixing the kingdom's problems for the better; dealing directly with the people that faced issues that could be resolved was one of their best mechanisms.

And not only had he a great relationship with his people, but also the one with his servants couldn't be of any less importance. They were happy to spend time with him when his parents couldn't, as much as he was grateful for them for anything they had done.

People outside stopped believing he was a real prince, how could someone so kind-hearted have no dark feature?

They didn't know about his nightmares, for sure.

Or all the times he felt like he was remembering something of the night he disappeared, only to break down right after, the only comfort being his mother's embrace.

And despite being surrounded by a multitude of loved ones who loved him back, they didn't know about the loneliness he felt when he finally reached eighteen.

« Roman, dear, the Pais family is coming very soon, will you come to meet them? »

Yes, even with a guaranteed fiancé.

Royal courting was weird in their days: the two promised could see each other little to no time at all, preferably spending as less time together as they could. Meals with parents were fine, they even had the luxury to sit in front of each other, talk sometimes, but out of those? One or two hours a day were enough, thank you very much.

So, what the Tinfea and Arcadia families were doing to follow these unfathomable laws was meeting once a year, celebrating one year less to the upcoming wedding.

And now that Roman was eighteen, well, things were only starting to get faster.

« We're going to speed up the preparations with them today, you can finally spend some more time with the lovable Patton, aren't you happy? » his father was at his left as they made their way towards the entrance of the castle.

« Truly charmed. » he mused, not particularly focused on his question. It wasn't like he didn't want to meet him, or thought he wasn't at all an appreciable companion, but the little time they spent together wasn't enough for him. He wasn't even allowed to send letters; their relationship only started as acquaintances and went back to strangers after a couple of months of not seeing each other.

Roman thought that was ridiculously inconvenient for both of them.

« Wait, is Logan going to be here? »

« Honey, of course, he's always been. » Roman made a slightly frustrated pout at that.

« Don't be like that. He's their closest advisor. »

« I know, but I don't like him. He makes me feel incompetent. »

« He's older than you, Roman, it's normal if his knowledge is higher than yours. »

« And you should respect him as such. Then you will get along just fine. »

The prince sighed, he couldn't argue with that. What they always said was that he could at least act like he was glad to have someone as guest.

Furthermore, he loved acting. He couldn't remember how many times he had sneaked out to get to the local theatre to watch actors perform, or perform himself after he made sure none was there.

« Oh, I forgot to tell you! » Roman's mother turned to him, beaming. « This time, they're going to stay here longer. We're going to put into action what Logan had suggested two years ago. »

Well, that was certainly new.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Patton had often wondered why things were a certain way.

He sounded like a kid when he kept on asking different questions about the subject he was debating with someone.

Why were clouds like that? Are stars motionless? Why is grass green and not blue? How come animals didn't talk, do they even understand us?

As he grew up and reached adulthood, the questions would change into more soul-searching ones.

Does happiness really exist? Is the mind more important than the heart? What's the difference between justice and revenge? When is it required to be selfless and when is it allowed to be selfish?

One time at fourteen he found himself stargazing and wondering if he could even reach the stars one day, that sky glitter that winked and smiled at him every night. He had approached Logan's chamber and ran in the room out of breath, at which a startled seer blinked a couple of times, frozen still, and looked at him with arched eyebrows.

« Hey Lo- » a couple of short breaths. « You're a magician, right? »

A slow nod came from the older boy, whose gears began turning in his head, trying to predict which kind of outcome that conversation was going to lead to.

« So can you fly?! » Pat had clasped his hands together in little fists in front of his mouth and leaned in towards the chair his friend was sitting in.

Logan wondered if he could have either expected that kind of question or if he definitely wasn't aware this scenario could have ever taken place.

Eventually, he decided to get up from his chair and, kindly, escort Patton out of his room, while the prince whined about wanting to reach the sky.

After he closed the door behind himself, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he fought back an amused smile that was threatening to form on his lips.

Of course, he lost, but in his defense, he was pretty tired.

After the prince's fifteenth birthday, Logan wondered sadly why they had to unquestionably stop attending lessons together; they had less time to spend with each other now that Patton was up to courting lessons most of his day, while he retreated to his room pretty much always to self-teach himself the remaining of magic knowledge. His sovereigns told him he didn't need teachers anymore, they meant to praise him for his own talents at such a young age. But he didn't somehow feel satisfied.

On the contrary, his heart sank when he stopped in front of their closed room and heard that they were actually glad their son was going to spend less time with him and that they couldn't wait to get rid of him.

He stayed silent and moved on.

When Patton reached sixteen, Logan decided he hated feelings.

He hated feelings because he could not conceive his kingdom's rules and what sometimes they did to people, how it changed them and made them treat him from a respectable member to a simple servant undeserving of any kind of attention. He decided to stop showing such feelings as he now found them useless: what could he do with his emptiness? The anger? Disappointment? Loneliness? All the other emotions he didn't want to name? Things that only slowed down his work?

Well, there was one thing he surely could do, which was bury them deep inside and never listen to them again.

And so he did.

At seventeen, Patton was having a mental breakdown. Too many things were happening at once: preparations for the wedding (already, though Roman was still fourteen), the fate of the curse approaching which he tried to ignore, his teenage mood swings, him reaching soon adulthood and the always more persistent lessons. About literally anything.

It was especially the lessons that stressed him out. In one of them in particular, in which he had to learn how to dance but was failing miserably, he concluded it was best to abruptly storm out of the room and take his frustration out on the grass he was stomping as he made a beeline for the flower garden of the east side of the castle.

Stressful tears were prickling his eyes, he carefully wiped them away on his sleeve, growing discontent was spreading inside him since he didn't want to cry, and yet he was too vulnerable to stop himself. Why did he feel so weak?

Patton took a deep breath and made his way through the garden, hands curled in fists at his side, when he eventually had to stop himself once again.

Logan was sitting on the ground, a couple of feet away from him, he was leaning on some flowers, examining them, while some objects – related to magic, Patton thought – were lying all around him.

Suddenly aware of a viewer, his friend- wait, were they even still friends? How long ago was the last time they talked for real?

Patton grimaced, he couldn't even remember that.

Nonetheless, Logan looked up at him with a blank stare, it only faltered for a moment as he noticed the slight redness around the prince's pupils.

They kept staring silently, until eventually the mage broke the silence between them, after he turned his attention back to the flowers he was observing attentively.

« What can I help you with? » there was no real interest in his voice, no signs of concern (although he definitely knew Patton was missing his lesson), the lack of anything bothered the prince in a way he couldn't comprehend. It's like that uneasiness you feel when someone slightly moved everything in your room and you can't tell what has changed.

Patton as well couldn't tell what had happened to make their relationship so different from before.

And maybe it was exactly because of that, maybe because of how much pressure they were putting in him, the expectation of his parents that he could master all his teachings in no time, the absence of the comfort he once found in friendship with his servants, whatever case it may have been, that he found himself dropping on his knees and throwing his arms around Logan's shoulders.

Patton tried to hide his face on the other's robes, tightening his grip as little sobs shook his body.

Whatever grudge Logan could have been holding against him (which, mind you, he didn't, since Patton was just that impossible to despise), he cast that aside and surrounded the younger one's chest with his own arms, hesitantly.

They sat there for a couple of minutes as the prince let out all the displeasure and the other boy just tried to help with soft rubs on his back.

As soon as he felt an ounce of relief, Patton broke the hug and took a deep breath, after muttering an apology.

« I don't know what's happening. To me, or in general. » he sighed, a hand touching his forehead while he looked down.

Since they had basically been ignoring each other, he was expecting a remark, he thought he was going to tell him he was an idiot and it was his fault, he would have believed that.

Instead, Logan nodded. « That's perfectly understandable. »

Patton looked up at him in confusion and disbelief. « How? »

A humming sound escaped the mage's throat. « How about you describe what is bothering you? »

« Uh. » he was looking at the sky, but focusing on his thoughts. « It's like I'm in a cage. Everybody's telling me what to do, what to wear, how to act. Or who I have to talk to. » he looked Logan in the eyes. « When was even the last time talked properly? » his azure irises darkened in a greyish color. « I feel like I have no friends anymore. »

Logan's heart sank at the words, he knew he was included in that group and he couldn't help but feel ashamed for accepting the distance they suddenly began to keep, instead of doing something about it.

« It is only normal that you're getting badly affected by the situation. Look at yourself, » Patton lifted his hands to observe them. « you're clearly stressed out. Are you getting enough sleep? » there were so many questions he wanted to ask. They barely saw each other out of meals.

« Do I, they expect me to be asleep the moment they escort me to my chamber. »

One problem less ticked off of Logan's mental list.

« We both know your drinking and eating schedules are practically perfect, so I guess this is partially about pressure. Everything at once. »

« Yeah, it's mostly because of this “perfect” you said. Everyone expects me to be perfect, my parents- »

« That's it! » Logan abruptly interrupted, pointing a finger towards the sky, a knowing smile making his way through his face. He dropped the objects he was carefully putting away in his bag.

« Uh? I barely finished … »

« Listen. Don't you think your parents are a bit … too much into this? They have started preparations way ahead of time, they can't stop talking about the wedding's details when neither you nor Roman reached adulthood yet. It seems to me that they want this more than you do. To the point that they don't care about your feelings. » the words tasted sour in his mouth, talking badly about your king and queen wasn't exactly the main topic in a kingdom, but he saw the prince slowly nod in agreement.

It wasn't the first time he had noticed that, either.

« My feelings … yeah, they're definitely messed up. » he found the will to giggle.

After a beat, Logan continued with his reasoning « I can't honestly believe you forgot my most important lessons. » he looked away to open the only vial that was lying on the ground and poured a drop of its content on a dying withered flower that immediately blossomed in a soft pink hue. When he looked back at his friend he met a confused but pensive gaze, mixed with amazement by the little magic trick.

« You're your own person, Patton. You don't have to act like anyone but yourself. Break free of those puppet strings, they're not unbreakable. You can be a prince in your own way. »

Patton showed him one of his brightest smiles, gaining all the inspiration he could have ever possibly asked for. He could still be himself while having lessons or while in front of other nobility members.

« You're right! » he beamed, getting confidently on his feet. He felt like he could take on the world by himself. « Plus, how much can they go against a prince? »

Logan rolled his eyes. « As much as they like if he starts getting full of himself. »

« Aw, come on, I was just kidding. »

They made their way towards the castle's ballroom, while catching up on the things they had been up to in the past year.

Time, of course, flew by in an instant and they were already facing the entrance of the ballroom. They stopped in their tracks.

Patton turned to the magician. « I don't know if a “thank you” is enough. But I appreciate that you didn't reject me being all emotional. » he then shrugged with a small smile. « Sometimes I get overwhelmed by the smallest things. »

Logan shook his head. « You don't have to thank me. I only helped a friend in need. »

The prince almost jumped in joy at the label, it was a sign their relationship wasn't destroyed by outer circumstances, which was what Patton had feared the most. How could he have gotten such an amazing friend? He felt the desire to surround himself with more people like him.

« And remember, if you don't understand something, write it down. Only then it might become clearer. » the seer shared one of the most important pieces of information he could give in order to prevent future breakdowns anytime soon.

Patton considered carefully his words as if he had just found out a glowing treasure, then nodded. « Will do. » he made to turn away, placing his hand on the door's handle.

« Sorry for forgetting what you taught me! » he apologized with a sheepish grin. Logan only chuckled and started to step away, when he got called again.

« And Lo? » he gave him his full attention and suddenly found Patton's hand on his arm.

Patton gazed deeply in his dark eyes. « Please, talk to me more. »

And just like that, he disappeared into the room, resuming his dance lesson with a lighter feeling in his chest.

It was the moment in which Logan felt a colder spot where the prince's hand once was and his cheeks burning red that he decided he hated feelings even more.

At eighteen Patton understood that he could be a bit freer, but his parents wouldn't let it slide so easily. At least not without some guilt trip or psychological pressure.

King, queen, prince and seer (who had also become their personal adviser since they didn't find a way to get rid of him) were sitting on a carriage, seemingly talking about topics of no relevance. But one would know better than believe aristocrats didn't measure their every word, sticking hidden meanings or snide remarks in sentences here and there.

It was their charm, how they could hold a conversation while talking about something completely different.

« Did you hear about this? They say that Roman kid had already caught up with his lost lessons in less than two years, isn't that a prodigy? » their favorite topic was throwing Patton down with their “oh-so-perfect” examples.

They always told him so many things about him, things he wasn't even sure were entirely true. So many voices went around castles. Ever since Arcadia's prince came back, he had been in everyone's words and minds.

Of course, Patton's parents used all the information they could get, thinking they could have been able to attach those puppet strings back to his body.

They tried and sometimes they succeeded in grazing even just slightly his self-worth.

Self-esteem issues weren't late to the party as well.

Patton noticed a pattern in the arguments: they would find anything that didn't please them, blame him and eventually start to criticize him. His looks, his behavior, his intelligence, either the first thing they saw or the first thought that came to their mind.

Initially he apologized as much as it felt fake. But he didn't like lying every time there was a fight, though doing the opposite made the situation worse.

His parents would get frustrated by his silence, the yelling would increase for minutes until they got tired and gave up on him.

So Patton only stared at the marble pavement, his eyes danced around its colored details, a blank expression surrounded his face; when they finally let him free he'd only run back to his room.

After that there were two different outcomes: one would simply picture him crying to let out all of the horrible things they told him, as if he could shake them off and forget about it.

The other would display him lying down with a weird feeling in his guts. It was something that mixed with wanting to fight someone and wanting to fight himself. As if he deserved to feel pain. But the only thing he allowed himself was to think of all the remarks he could have done, if only they didn't make the situation worse.

Many could wonder how he managed to endure the whole thing. Patton had the kindness of his servants to get him through the day, the food they sneaked in every time he left during meals because he couldn't just bear it.

And he had a best friend he could rely on anytime he wanted or needed to vent. Especially when he saved him from annoying situations.

The conversation between his parents continued, their eulogy towards Roman never seemed to stop.

Patton breathed out slow and deep through his nose, he knew the last thing he needed was a reminder of his inferiority complex when he was on his way to Roman.

The funny thing about it was that he couldn't even blame Roman for how he felt, on the contrary the boy was always so sweet and welcoming. It was more how everybody portrayed him to be the perfect prince he could never achieve.

« On the topic of talents. » Logan, the foretold savior, spoke only after giving a sidelong glance to the younger boy.

The sovereigns immediately shut their conversation to Patton's relief.

« Since we are second in prosperity to Arcadia, I was thinking we should value our people more. » he had them hanging on his every word. « Maybe we should organize some kind of event that aims at that specific goal. »

The two adults' faces lit up, ideas flowing in their minds. Every argument on how to somehow be better than Arcadia was valid for both of them, it was the perfect diversion.

« We definitely agree. Please do tell us what you have in mind. »

Instead of going off with one of his explanations, (that often became monologues), he turned to Patton.

« What about you? Would you like that? » a faint smile crossed the prince's lips, ignoring the voices in his mind that said “How can he give his opinion? He understands nothing of it!”

« I would love that, Logan. » he nodded. « It would be ideal for our people to stand out in their specialties. I'd want to know if the best poems ever written belonged to one of our humble and simple villagers. » he stopped looking out the window to glance at his parents' shocked expressions, their mouths left hung open upon hearing his valid opinion. Suddenly they didn't have anything to remark.

He felt something very similar to pure bliss. Then he shifted his gaze to Logan. « Don't you think? »

Pride glimmered in the magician's eyes. « Exactly my thought. We could also participate or just watch, if so you desire. »

« Thank you for your suggestion! » Patton smiled even wider and Logan knew that he also silently thanked him for the attention.

After Logan finished displaying his idea, the sovereigns kept quiet for the whole trip to Arcadia's castle and Patton couldn't have been any more glad about it.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

How could he have been such an idiot?

Hopes and dreams, fake abstract concepts made up only to ruin people's expectations.

What was hope? It only meant relate to the future in a way that will eventually result in experiencing anxiety and anguish, whether it is a happy future you're looking for or a negative outcome that you're fearing. It is never something that helps you relax, but it keeps you in a restless mood, always unsettled because you know you're waiting for something and you're paying very much attention to it.

It is as if you're waiting for a delivery that has even the infinitesimal possibility to get lost into the nothingness. Or waiting for a person that promised to come back, a promise that has a high percent chance to be broken anyway.

But your hopes get in the way and erase any pessimistic belief, without realizing you're actually deteriorating yourself. With hope comes illusion and after that you're only left with pain.

Growing up, Virgil learnt to take nothing for granted and have very little trust in all the people who presented themselves in front of him.

To say that his parting from Roman had been a hard hit for him was an understatement: ever since then, he had never been able to get close to someone just as much or have any friendship quite as strong. It didn't feel worth it anymore.

Everything constantly reminded him of Roman and he just was so tired, he wanted the world to stop.

There had been many attempts by the school's children to get him to cheer up, but every single gesture failed its goal like they weren't even trying hard enough. But they were, when he wandered in the streets the villagers would greet him with a genuine smile on their lips, Virgil would only nod at them, unimpressed by the sudden interest.

Kids had tried to play with him, offered to go spend time in the woods together, but nothing could do. It reminded him too much of him and their memories were the last things he wanted to experience all over again.

He was eleven when hope started to fade out and disappointment took over him, a wave of sadness brushed his feet as strange thoughts began to force themselves into his mind.

These thoughts were the ones that tried to keep him awake at night, they persuaded him to think that it was better to embrace the darkness of the night, in which none would bother him as they all drifted off to sleep.

At first they scared him, so much he tried to scream to throw them away, panic didn't help his breathing problems and every other night his parents were kneeling down in his room, trying to steady him in every possible way.

At twelve, things were getting impossibly worse, because he couldn't help but comply to those musings. The first time, he found himself getting up from the small mattress, a myriad of thoughts screaming at him, so much that he preferred to stay silent, afraid that if he were to part his lips the harshness of howl-like shrieks would escape his mouth and leave him with little to no voice. The second time, he was found deadly still, bloodshot stapled open eyes, in front of the village's town hall at five in the morning by a pair of very concerned and frightened parents.

At thirteen night didn't exist anymore and the fair skin under his eyes slowly faded into a dark and purple-ish tone, he decided it was not worth to have those oniric impossible encounters in dreams or nightmares, even if his sleep deprivation did quite help making the unreal look real during his waking hours. His daylight hallucinations.

He had stopped talking at all, only considering someone when he really thought it necessary, scared they could catch him interacting with the unreal, unable to tell one from the other.

At fourteen he had visited all the doctors and magicians his family could reach, and at times their solutions were too … expensive. Out of the eight of them, there was one that stuck with Virgil, his words often played in his head as a reminder that, yes, something was definitely wrong with him. He couldn't remember his full name, something with Emile … was it? He was the only one that talked about his head. His mind; Emile's eyes had glowed, a light that made him look quite mischievous, though he truly was kind-hearted, and Virgil felt like he was piercing through his soul.

He had told him it was a mess, inside his mind. Virgil could have sworn he had heard a crack in his voice, as if he had been about to cry or needed consolation, after feeling how he did daily; but then again his reality was fake most of the time.

At fifteen the tables turned. Most of the villagers just chose to avoid him. Even if bullying didn't exist in his school, his classmates would have been too scared to approach him. A little part of him was glad he could occupy his mind with all the issues that rained down on him at once, so that he could shove his oldest problem in the deepest part of his heart and never think about it again.

It had been five years.

He couldn't say he was always successful, the best case scenario displayed a train of different thoughts that would suppress the topic he didn't want to think about. But other times … the outcome would destroy his mind.

He had never gotten angry at Roman for disappearing into the void.

He couldn't help but put the blame on himself; for god knows what reason why, he started feeling like Roman had now found better people, what if they had been friends out of pity? Sure, they were good at make-believe, and yet … Roman had never left him alone. He did feel genuine, after all.

There was too much contrast between his beliefs, but somehow he still couldn't help but crumble down in his own self-deprecation. It was none else's fault but his if he never came back. For all that he could know, by now Roman had probably already found plenty of people like him; better than him, perhaps, which wasn't that much of an impossible quest. It wasn't like he had any particular talent or was special in any way, really. Being replaced could have been just as easy even in his small little village.

He was still fifteen when he finally stepped into their forest after 5 years, for some reason he had gotten sentimental and, almost magically, his feet led him in front of the forest's entrance. He was retracing the same path they had followed the last time they were together, the sparkles caused by the sun hitting the water were already blinding his eyes as he stepped down the hill that now looked much smaller than how he remembered.

And then, the one thing that would change his life forever.

He looked at his left and that same fox from five years earlier was standing there, a cold glare piercing him through golden irises, Virgil thought he had lost his mind and the hallucinations due to lack of sleep were getting worse.

But the creature looked different, yet quite the same, he could tell it was the same one he saw, even though it seemed older.

Black fur was now added to its former colors at the base of its paws. It seemed it wanted to frighten him, but also persuade him.

Virgil held its stare, the animal didn't seem to move an inch.

« What? » he snapped, arms slightly opening in the act.

The yellow-eyed fox started pacing towards him, an elegant posture was still somehow kept in its cautious movements.

Virgil didn't take his eyes off of it, it felt like 5 years earlier: it was as if there was some sort of force tugging him in a particular direction. It was stronger than before and the lingering feeling of the animal's glare on him provoked some sort of persuasion and curiosity altogether.

The little villager just stood and watched as the creature paced forward until little to no space was left between them, then something switched in its expression after it looked around and set its focus back on Virgil with gloomy eyes.

Was it looking for Roman?

« He's not here. » Virgil wished he had said it with the most collected tone, but surprisingly found his voice cracked as if it had been smashed through a thousand palaces. It sounded rough, colliding with the ethereal aura of the place. The fox tilted its head slightly.

« What are you waiting for? It's not like he will come back. » another crash, he felt himself rapidly break down like most of the times when he listened to the thoughts screaming and raging in his head. He let his burning eyes fall to the ground and close, as the dark corners of his mind took completely over him.

« … ever. He won't- » his breath hitched and when he opened his eyes again he was on the ground, almost at eye-level with the pitying creature. He looked at his hands in terror, they were trembling visibly, his breathing grew shorter, sharp, but never like those wheezes he learnt to recognize. This was something else. How long had it been since he had last spoken to someone?

This was worse. So much worse.

His fingers brushed his cheek to find it soaking in overflowing tears already making their way on his skin; he digged his hands in his hair as to hold on for dear life. He hated when this happened. He had no control over himself, he felt hopeless, more helpless than usual, rationality flew out of his body, it was as if all of his feelings had smashed the button of “overload”, while a clutching sensation weighted down his stomach.

His mind raced between flashbacks of his childhood, belittling himself, the urge to just give up and lie down forever until someone would eventually pick him up and live his life in his place.

He was completely huddled on himself when he felt something soft trying to make its way through his limbs, as if it wanted him to relax his body and get his arms away from his face. Virgil had no choice but to comply and let the fox … help him? He felt too weak to care about what was happening anyway.

When the animal started brushing its head against Virgil's hand, he suddenly remembered about one of the doctors' suggestion; he opened his eyes and focused on his surroundings.

Five things he could see. The green blades of grass, the glimmering lake, those funny shaped clouds, the trees all around him and the fox by his side. He took another deep breath that he let out from the mouth.

Four things he could touch. The lightweight of his simple clothes, the soles of his shoes, his bangs brushing his forehead and the soft fur through his fingers. He closed his eyes.

Three things he could hear. Birds flying out of their nests to get some food for their nestlings, his rapid breath slowing down, little fishes occasionally jumping out of the lake and then back on the water.

Two things he could smell. The flowers that had started blossoming in that period, the simple essence of the forest's nature.

One thing he could taste. Oh. Had he eaten yet today?

His evened out and steady breathing had him finally relaxed, he kind of felt a smile tugging at his lips for some reason, maybe it was the comfort of the little animal, maybe because he finally got a hold of himself.

But while he pet the unusual friend, there was something he didn't notice. Someone he didn't see, but that could see him. It was somewhere Virgil had never reached. One of the deepest parts of the forest.

The man grinned in his dark room while the only source of light was a cloud of magic smoke in front of him, beaming with the picture of Virgil sitting on the grass and smiling at the fox.

The brightness touched his face with delicacy, yet you could make out the details of it with simplicity.

Like the burnt skin on the left side of his face that made it look like little scales were all over his cheek. Or the literal glowing, bright yellow eyes that slowly turned into a mild shade of white as the vision and smoke both faded away.

The man in the dark smirked.

« Perfect. »

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onthecue · 5 years

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Alone/Together: On love, dreams, and life

Alone/Together officially hit the cinemas last February 13 and quite a lot of people were intrigued by the movie – including me. The movie’s teaser made the audience feel like it’s something worth watching. A lot of people even created theories, which made me, and perhaps others too, eager to watch it. But to be honest the official trailer kind of ruined everyone’s curiosity as they somehow gave away the plot and refuted all the theories created. I still gave this movie a chance despite of it all and I’m glad I did.

So what are my takeaways? [Warning! Spoilers ahead.]

1. It’s okay to feel lost in your 20′s.

Christine (Liza Soberano) was once so hopeful about her dreams. With a Magna Cum Laude standing, she dreamt of changing the world. She was so sure of what she wanted to become in life. Five years later, it dawned on her that her dreams weren’t really that simple and easy to achieve.

“Hindi ko alam anong nangyari,” Christine uttered. While she was sitting on the same spot where she used to dream, a lot has changed about her and she felt like a complete failure.

The movie didn’t sugarcoat anything about this reality – the curse of "adulting.” That even the smartest students, the overachievers, and the goal-getters will get lost while navigating through adulthood. All of a sudden, you won’t have it all figured out anymore. You will make choices that can make or break your future. You slowly lose sight of who you are and what you want to be. And that’s okay.

Because somehow, you will be led to where you’re truly meant to be, despite the number of detours that you experience in life. I believe that you will end up doing what you truly want to do and where you will be happy – especially if you will be brave enough to chase after your dreams. Just never lose sight of your principles, your goals, and ambitions. Take it one step at a time.

2. College grades don’t necessarily equate to success.

Raf (Enrique) is an average student in the movie. He had mediocre grades. He was delayed for graduation and he was struggling to finish his degree. Contrary to Tin (Liza) who is a straight A student who graduated on time with Latin honors.

Right after college, Raf became a successful doctor while Tin struggled to keep her career in tact, due to the decisions she made. She became part of a huge scam which ruined her credentials. The movie showed that grades don’t really define who you are and they aren’t the ticket to success.

3. Serve the country.

“Pera ng gobyerno ang ginastos sa pag-aaral mo tapos dayuhan makikinabang sayo? Que horror!”

These words were one of the highlights of the movie for me. It strucked me. Christine’s professor and mentor exclaimed this strong statement to her. In her defense, she just wanted to gather experience and knowledge so she can come back and apply everything back here at home – in her own country. But her professor said that a lot of people have said that, but they never came back because of the money and comfort that foreign countries offered.

It’s quite hard to love our country, to be frank especially with the rising inflation rate, EJKs, low minimum wage, unemployment rate, and all the toxicity that I read daily all because of politics. I was once that fresh graduate who opted to work abroad because I knew that I would have a higher salary and give my parents a better retirement, without thinking that I would use my skills for the benefit of another country.

Alone/Together somehow encouraged its viewers to serve the Philippines. With Raf's choice to serve the barrios as a doctor. It made me realize the importance of staying in the country and serving fellow Filipinos despite the struggles in succeeding in our country. I guess it will be a battle between patriotism and greed.

The movie made me love and appreciate our country – its history, art, culture and everything else in between.

4. That one great love comes once in a lifetime.

It comes only once and while we’re at it, be sure to make everything worthwhile so we won’t have regrets.

When that one great love doesn’t stay with you, accept the fact that perhaps it happened for a reason. Sometimes, we tend to be fixated on that “great memory” and we forget why we didn’t work out with the person. Know when to let go – especially when you are currently in a relationship. STOP CHASING AROUND YOUR EX.

Perhaps that’s my least favorite part about the movie. When Tin and Raf sneaked around behind their partners’ backs. But it still taught me a lesson regarding the things that I shouldn’t tolerate. We shouldn’t normalize acts like these because other people’s feelings are at stake too.

5. Communication is the key.

When you are in a relationship, learn to communicate properly. Your partners aren’t mind readers. Also they are called “PARTNERS” for a reason. Even if it seems like your problems are too much to take, learn to share it with your significant other. Never feel like you’re a burden. You should work together – may it be in your highs or lows.

6. Be true to what you want. Stop forcing things that don’t make you happy.

Life is short. Chase after your what-ifs, especially if it’s related to your life goals. It’s never too late to make those dreams come true, no matter how crazy they may seem. Do not waste seconds of your life in people or situations where you feel unhappy. Matuto kang maging malaya at magpalaya.

If there’s one thing I learned in life, you have to be true to what you want and your actions will follow through towards achieving that goal. Somehow, the universe will make away and help you reach your dream – only if you truly, genuine desire it.

Overall, Alone/Together was a huge success. Not everyone loved the movie but I guess it’s because they didn’t watch it with an open mind. Some parts of the movie weren’t that appealing to me too, but I chose to look at it as a chance to learn.

I think it’s a good movie that’s not all about the “happily ever after” that local cheesy films used to offer. It taught me a lot about life, going after what your heart truly desires, and never giving up on people who matter to you.

The movie is realistic. It showed us that in life, sometimes you win, sometimes you learn. Nothing is ever absolute. Even if you had your life all mapped out and planned out, circumstances that are uncertain may take a toll on us. We may fail through life, have countless detours, and lose ourselves in the process. But rather than dwelling on the failures, we must rise above and focus on what we can do. Life may be difficult. But wherever you are, let it teach you something. Be kind to yourself on the journey and the process of becoming.

#LizQuen #Alone/Together #AloneTogether #Movie #MovieReview #LoveLocal

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angstytieflingbard · 5 years

Text

Hero’s Journey - Chapter Three: Study Session

Summary: Link has an unfortunate run in with the press, and Bakugo saves him. Later, he has a study session with some friends. Someone leaves a gift on his windowsill.

Warnings: None?

A/N: Admittedly, this chapter is mostly just about Link and setting some of his background and home life. Also I feel I should note, I'm using ASL rules for his sign language, though there hasn't been much so far. I know this takes place in japan, but I am far more familiar with ASL and how it works than any other sign language. It won't make too much of a difference except for the use of fingerspelling, which, while possible in JSL isn't used very much if at all most of the time.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy and as usual don't be afraid to tell me what you think!

~~~

School had been... difficult, today. It had started with the press outside the school gates, swarming like flies to rotten fruit, blocking off nearly all entry or exit.

“Hey! You there, you’re a UA student, right? What’s it like being taught by All Might?” The reporter had asked, already in his face before he’d even reached the bulk of the press. Link blinked in surprise, and then his expression returned to the tired one he’d been wearing before he was accosted. He brushed past her as politely as he could.

“Hey, what’s the deal? You think you’re too good to talk to us or something?” She’d said accusingly, and he flinched at the familiar anger. It was common, of course, for people to misunderstand his silence. And of course it only made it worse, not that she could know that.

Link was determined to just slip through the crowd altogether, but then she grabbed his shoulder with surprising strength, perfectly manicured nails digging into his shirt jacket. The hero-in-training sighed, turning to face the woman. She sneered, which he imagined was her sarcastic way of giving him a smile, and then-

“Oi, gremlin!” He heard a voice shout, and suddenly he was surrounded by the smell of burnt sugar as Bakugou grabbed the back of his blazer collar and hauled him back like some sort of cat. He huffed, expression somewhere between grateful and annoyed as the swarm of reporters parted like the red sea for the spiky blond shoving and growling at anyone who came anywhere near the two of them.

Finally, he dropped him just inside the barrier of UA’s gate, and Link fixed his clothes, frowning cautiously at the boy.

‘Thanks’ Link held the card out, and Bakugou scoffed, pushing the hand - and card - away from him with a surprising lack of malicious intent.

“Don’t bother with that shit, dumbass gremlin. I didn’t forget what you said yesterday, you know.” Bakugou leaned in slightly to say it, and Link felt his hackles rise, all too aware of when he was being threatened. Link didn’t have a card on him for this particular scenario, so instead he just huffed and bared his teeth. Bakugou seemed to get the point, anyway, because his eyes narrowed like he was considering something, but then he stepped back and walked off, Link following a short ways behind.

School had been fine after that, though the class officer elections were surprisingly high energy. Link himself didn’t have much interest, but it’d taken some thought as to who he’d vote for. Midoriya was his first thought, remembering his quick thinking and determination in the battle trials only a few days earlier, but he was also incredibly anxious, and, he thought with an apologetic wince, a bit of a pushover. He’d settled on Yaoyorozu in the end, appreciating her general kindness and level-headedness, something he knew would come in handy to deal with some of the rowdier students.

It’d ended in a tie between Yaoyorozu and Midoriya, and a secondary vote declared the girl the winner. Midoriya seemed flustered that he’d gotten voted for at all, though there was a bit of a relieved glint to his eye that Link attributed to the boy not actually being made president.

After that was lunch, and with it came the break-in. He was in the classroom at the time, along with Yaoyorozu (Momo, as she insisted), Tsuyu, Jiro, Shouji, Ojiro, Koda, and Hagakure, so he’d thankfully been away from the mass panic that’d apparently ensued down there. He wasn’t surprised when he’d looked out the window to find the press swarming around the door just as they had the gate, Aizawa and Present Mic keeping them from getting into the school.

Eventually, though, that crisis passed as well, and his classmates started to filter back in. This also saw him reassuring a frazzled Midoriya that yes, he did still deserve to be vice president even though he hadn’t helped (it’s not like any other classes’ representatives had stepped in, after all) and no, he shouldn’t hand the position off to Iida even if he had been a great help in that situation.

“I guess…” Midoriya murmured, still unsure.

‘You need to work on your confidence anyway. You have the leadership skills, and being vice president will help you get where you need to be to use them.’ He wrote, turning his notebook around to show, and Midoriya gave him a small, grateful smile.

“I suppose you’re right.” Midoriya nodded, and headed back to his desk just as Aizawa returned to start class again.

The rest of the day passed without incident, thankfully, and now he was packing his backpack up to go home, most of his classmates doing the same.

“Hey, Link!” He turned at the sound, and found Uraraka inches from his face, a wide smile and warm eyes pointed up at him. Link didn’t move back, ignoring the short look of surprise on the girls face at his seeming lack of discomfort. He raised a brow at her, and she giggled.

“I was wondering if maybe you’d want to have a little study group today? Just you, me, Deku, and Iida?” She asked, expression hopeful. He sighed, faking a thoughtful expression as though he wasn’t sure.

“C’mon, please please please! I wanna have group bonding time, and there’s no better way to do that than with shared suffering!” She exclaimed, puffing her cheeks out and bringing up her hands in fists in a show of determination, and he huffed out a laugh, finally conceding to her. He gave her a nod and she cheered, hooking her hand in his elbow and pulling him over to where the other two were waiting by the door.

“He said yes! Well, there weren’t any words, but he nodded!” She informed them.

“We still haven’t decided where we’re going, Uraraka.” Iida reminded, expression as serious as ever. The bubbly girl only shrugged, smile still on her face.

“Well, I mean, just one of our houses right? Mine’s a bit busy, bit if you don’t mind that, then…” She trailed off, offer lingering in the air for a moment.

“Mine’s not exactly… busy, per se, but my mom can be kind of a lot for new people…” Midoriya said softly. Link pursed his lips thoughtfully.

‘I could always invite them to my apartment… ‘ Just as he finished the thought, Uraraka turned to him.

“What do you think? You look like you wanna say something.” Her smile turned a little reassuring as he pulled out his notepad, writing quickly with the attached pen. They waited patiently for his response, shuffling a bit out of the way of the door to make way for their classmates trying to leave.

‘We could go to my apartment. I don’t think anyone would be around, so it’d be quiet.’ They all read the note.

“That sounds perfect then. We can all head there together!” Iida gives a little chop to the air with his hand as he says it.

“We should get going then, we don’t want to miss the train!” And with that, they were off.

~~~

A little less than an hour later, they were all walking into Link’s apartment, giving curious glances around.

“So this is where Link lives..?” Uraraka mumbled to herself, picking up a telescope on the table covered in little paintings of seagulls, carefully turning it over in her hands. Link pulled out his notebook again.

‘That’s my cousin, Aryll’s. The school she goes to has dorms, so she only comes back on weekends and holidays. She left it here to “remember her by”’ The pink cheeked girl laughed, setting the telescope down.

“Your cousin seems like quite the character.” She said, though her expression made it seem more like a question. Link nodded solemnly, making her giggle again.

“So, where are we going to study?” Midoriya asked. He seemed a little uncomfortable, as though he wasn’t sure what he should be doing in this situation.

Link made a gesture to follow him, and led them through the small, blue and green themed galley kitchen into a cozy little dining area, with a white table and chairs and blue curtains speckled with orange-red flowers. They settled in, studying and working on homework together. It was nearly an hour later that the conversation started to stray from their studies.

“I almost forgot to ask, but where are your parents?” Uraraka asked casually, backtracking at Link’s grimace. “Oh, you don’t have to answer that of course! I was just curious-” Link cut her off, putting up a hand to signal for her to wait, and he wrote in his notepad, as he’d been doing for most of the afternoon.

‘My dad was a pro hero, he died ten years ago, when Toxic Chainsaw first became active, and my mom died when I was still a baby. My uncle’s usually traveling for work since he’s a businessman, so usually it’s just me and sometimes Aryll.’ Uraraka blanched.

“I’m… so sorry, Link.” Link shrugged.

‘It was a long time ago. I barely remember my dad.’ The three glanced at each other. The mood of the room felt stifling now, so Link stood and headed for the kitchen.

“Well, I guess we’re taking a break now.” He heard from behind him, and he couldn’t help but snort at the somewhat exasperated tone, working on getting the cooking utensils he needed.

Link had always loved cooking. It was cathartic, and helped him clear his mind in the same way a good workout often did. Plus, Aryll always seemed to enjoy it, which helped. He set a pot on the stove, cranking up the burner all the way and starting to put his ingredients in. Carrots, butter, milk, some flour for good measure, and then left it to cook.

When he finally brought the food out to them on a tray, they all gave him grateful smiles (well, Iida’s expression couldn’t be considered a smile, but it was the intent of the thing Link cared about), and set aside their phones and notebooks to eat. Uraraka was the first, and she immediately froze as soon as her lips closed around the spoon. Slowly, she pulled the spoon away, and they watched as she chewed and swallowed with some amount of effort.

“How is it?” Midoriya asked with increasing concern. Uraraka hesitated, a calculating look flashed across her face, gone so fast Link wasn’t sure if he actually saw it.

“It’s actually pretty good!” She smiled cloyingly sweet at the green-haired boy. Link was still watching them intently for their reactions. Midoriya’s brow furrowed.

“Come now, Midoriya! What reason would Uraraka have to lie to us? Besides, we’re in Link’s house, it would be rude to not eat what he made for us.” Iida lectured, and the other boy All trelented, each of them trying the soup.

Midoriya choked, face drawn tight as he swallowed down the bite. Iida’s expression was unreadable, and he put the spoon down almost robotically. Link gave them a satisfied nod.

‘I’m glad you like it. Aryll used to react like that when I first started cooking for her. Now she barely even blinks. It’s nice to see people so openly enjoying my cooking again.’ Link dug in to his own food, missing the horrified looks his friends exchanged.

“Hey, Link… Where did you learn to cook?” Iida asked slowly. Link gave them a gesture to wait a moment, and quickly downed the rest of the soup before turning to the notepad again.

‘I taught myself, why?’ All three of them sighed.

“No reason. We were just curious…” Uraraka told him, expression unreadable. Link nodded sagely.

‘I could teach you guys too, if you want.’

“Link, don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t think that’s a good idea…” Midoriya murmured.

‘That’s fair. The kitchen can get chaotic when more people are involved.’ The three exchanged a look of relief. Link pushed his notepad a bit away from him to resituate his notes, and the other three quickly did the same, stacking their own nearly untouched bowls of carrot stew on his to clean up later.

~~~

‘That went well.’ Link thought as he waved goodbye to his friends. They all waved back, saying their farewells as they went, and Link closed the door behind them. They were all heading to the station together, so he wasn’t too worried about them despite the sun setting low on the horizon.

The apartment seemed a lot colder now that they were gone, he noticed absently as he cleaned up. He hummed to himself as he did, voice soft and hoarse with its typical disuse.

Link could only really bring himself to talk around Aryll, or by himself, and even then he still had trouble. He hated it sometimes, how he could be confident and happy and relaxed, but the second he even thinks of speaking his throat seemed to close up, lungs burning like he was out of air and eyes stinging as though ready to cry. It made things difficult, especially when people didn’t understand, and the way he was treated in those times only made it worse.

He was glad he had friends now, ones who were kind and understanding to him about his inability to talk. He was glad for a lot of things really.

Link found himself back in his room after cleaning up, and he paused in the doorway as a glint on the windowsill caught his eye. Approaching, he realized it was a small, green gem, glasslike in its translucence, propped up against his window to make it visible over the frame. He opened the window carefully and grabbed it, quickly shutting the window after himself and glancing out suspiciously, even knowing whoever did it was likely gone.

He laid down on his bed, ignoring the fact that he still had his uniform (sans blazer) on and inspecting the gem in his hand. It was odd, for sure, but…

There was nothing he could really do about this. It didn’t seem dangerous, so he put it in a drawer of his desk, ignoring the strange familiarity he felt for it. He looked out his window again as he closed the curtains, and for a moment he was sure he saw a flash of white on a balcony across the street, but it disappeared as soon as he noticed it, seeming to be swallowed up by the darkness of the evening. Link frowned apprehensively, shutting the curtains tight and heading over to his bed.

He was the only one home, and no one would believe him if he tried to bring it up, so he decided to leave it be. If it was something dangerous, then he’d just have to deal with that as it came. He was a hero student, after all. He could defend himself, even from weird people (or animals maybe, he reasoned) who left gemstones on peoples windowsills at night.

Despite his own justifications, he didn’t fall asleep until the sun was starting to rise over the horizon.

#loz #botw #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #link #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochaco #iida tenya #bakugo katsuki #fanfic #fanfiction #crossover #au

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