#that little bird is their Familiar of sorts and it can turn into things. usually a staff or a walking cane i think

[catominor]

Hi! I am looking forward to the cato yaoi (I personally think the triumvirs should be involved) but did you have any more furius/martinus excerpts you could share? I know it's still very much a work in progress. I just love your work ❤️

hehe thank you... i need to do evil things to cato as soon as i . get around to it and actually decide on like . an actual idea of what to write lol.

also yeah sure! i honestly don't have that much actual writing about them that i can share, but yknow what . why not ill share this prospective first meeting scene i wrote over the summer.

---

Lucius Furius Camillus’ house was the most beautiful on the Palatine. Or, at least, this was what Gaius Martinus had heard; he had little eye for such things. And yet all the same, he had been curious when the invitation came; he had noticed him before, spoken to him, very briefly, a couple of times, yet did not know much about the man. 

He followed Furius’ dignified form into the atrium. He was tall (though not as tall as Martinus) and straight, and thin as a rail. He moved with a pronounced limp; the result, Martinus had heard, of some long-past war wounds which had left him in more or less a permanent state of illness. Martinus glanced up, noticing the wax masks of ancestors hung near the entryway; a practice of patrician and illustrious plebeian families Martinus had always found somewhat foreboding. Furius coughed (this was another affectation of his old injuries) and continued on at a leisurely pace, falling back to walk beside Martinus. 

Martinus could hardly picture Lucius Furius in the army, much less in battle; to him the image seemed comical. Tall and stately though he was, he looked fragile, like a slight gust of wind could have easily borne him off. He was around the same age as Martinus (in fact, a little younger, although anyone looking at the two men would never guess); around forty-five, his short black hair peppered with silvery grey. 

The walls of each room of the house were decorated with frescoes; he noticed these were mainly composed of scenes of gardens, which were filled with all manner of exotic birds. Finely painted, indeed, although they were old and rather faded. In a corner of the atrium there was a shrine to the lares of the house; its candles flickered in lanterns and cast a soft glow onto the little silver figures. There were flower petals scattered at their feet. The house was quiet save for a faint clattering from the kitchen, the lamps already lit as the bluish evening light diminished. 

There was a faint chill in the air; Martinus shivered, and noticed Furius did too, but he did not move to put an arm around the man as he might have for others. Something in his gut told him the gesture would run the chance of offending his patrician sensibility. And he did not want to seem over familiar, anyway. They passed into the peristylium and its beautiful garden. Furius wore relatively simple clothing for the likes of a wealthy aristocrat of his time, but it was clean and clearly the best he owned. On his right little finger he wore a seal ring of gold and blue chalcedony, which bore the image of Juno; on his left index finger an iron senator’s ring.

He turned toward the garden. “I designed it myself.” he explained. Clearly he was particularly proud of this area of the house. “I selected plants so something is always in bloom; right now it’s the narcissus. I specified that the earth be laid out in these hills, so that it might look more natural than a usual peristyle-garden; I cannot afford and have no interest to leave Rome to go to the country; and I need to have something to myself.” 

Martinus did notice it was quite unusual. A few trees ringed the outside; oranges, olives, figs, something else he didn’t know. Large bushes of rosemary and lavender clustered around a small fountain, and blobs of thyme crept over rocks. Thick vines just leafing out climbed some of the columns and up onto the tiled roof.  The rest was a sort of collection of grassy hills divided by paths, various shoots coming up at this time in the spring to add to the hyacinths already in bloom. The scent of the place was otherworldly. 

The narcissus huddled at the roots of the trees in heavy clusters, winking at them like stars in a dark field. A couple of statues stood in the garden; they looked old, the paint on them long since worn away, and never refreshed. Furius motioned toward a bench near the little fountain. He sat down nearest the orange-tree, sheltered under its new-green leaves and doubly illuminated in the bluish evening tinge and by the little stone lantern on the ground next to the pool. He leaned over, lifted one of the flowers’ heads and studied it, still not looking at Martinus. He could detect some nervousness in his posture. 

“I… Invited you here because I have a problem. I want to become consul.” Martinus was not particularly surprised. “Oh?” 

Lucius Furius finally turned to him, looked at him intensely with his large dark eyes. “I know you want this too. I want us to run together.” 

Martinus was a little surprised. “Really? Are you sure our interests are so aligned?” 

Furius’ expression was hard to read; maybe a little apprehension. “They are aligned enough.” He paused, perhaps considering his sell. “You’ll never get anywhere without patrician support. And I” he sighed. “I can’t afford it on my own. I’m sure you know my family has not achieved much in the realm of politics for quite some time.” 

Martinus looked at him for a moment, thinking. It was true, he had trouble winning over the patrician segment of the political elite. Being an Italian nobody with only a few generations of wealth and one senate seat behind you would do that. But the simple fact was: “Why me?” he asked Furius. 

Furius thought for a moment. “Because I think you’re the most well-off man in Rome whom I can stomach allying myself with, as well as being in a position to stand for consul with me. I don’t know you, yet, but I’m not throwing away my idea because of that. …Are you a good man, Gaius Martinus?” Again the eyes fixed him. Stern, inscrutable. Lucius didn’t really believe he was. 

“I believe I have brought much glory to Rome.” 

Lucius Furius hummed assent. “Mmm…” A flicker of …sadness? In his eyes. 

“...Your own military career?” Said Martinus. 

 Furius looked a little pained. “I suppose not all are constituted for such a life. I was one of those… not constituted.” A faint dusting of pink passed over his face; as befitted a man so pale, even his faintest emotions were written brightly on his cheeks. Martinus decided to change the subject. 

“Your reputation as a voice for good sense in the Senate is unimpeachable, at least. Everybody respects you.” 

“Everybody also makes a pastime of coming up with vaguely insulting nicknames for me, and giggling about me behind my back. Gods forbid I spend my free time reading the greatest works of philosophy and literature in the world instead of hanging around in stinking, sordid taverns, generating adultery scandals, and frequenting brothels.” He said, bitterly. He had Martinus, an incurable tavern-and-brothel-frequenter, there. Martinus laughed. 

Lucius Furius looked up, fixing Martinus with his dark eyes again. “That won’t stop them voting me in as consul, though. I know it. And censor after that. Especially with you, the military man, behind me. You would win glory for Rome on the battlefield, and I would restore glory to Rome here.” Martinus smiled. “You know, I’m starting to like this idea. But… I’d still like to know you better. Come to my house tomorrow afternoon.” 

“I shall, Gaius Martinus.” Lucius Furius said firmly, proferring his slender hand and looking down his nose at Martinus. Martinus shook it. 

#ficposting #asks #i hope it's not too bad ourgh... but . its fun to show their dynamic before they actually get to know each other #under a cut cause it's not too short lol

[xerith-42]

That AU where Aphmau blows up (PT2)

Me with my rewrite: I want all of these characters to talk about the things they feel and be allowed to feel happy for once!! They've earned it!!

[immediately turns around and writes even more heart wrenching angst]

Fair warning, this post is loooooong and kinda jumps between scenes. I had. A bit more to say.

Content Warning for suicide mention

Unlike everyone else, Aaron had actually slept through the night on the island. Aph had made him promise to get some extra sleep when she saw how tired he had become recently, usually due to overworking himself to keep the island alive and growing. He wasn't posted on any kind of watch shift, he didn't feel anything suddenly when she died, but there was a feeling when he woke up.

A sort of familiar dread. The feeling of birds taking off before a disaster, but he didn't know what disaster they could be flying from. Or if he should follow their lead. Just that when he finally stood up, he just had this feeling. He couldn't place why. At least not at first.

It was when he stepped into Aph's house that he could tell something was… wrong. Both Aph and Lilith were missing. Panic started to fill him instantly, and Aaron desperately fought off memories of his previous family as he raced through the alliance island. He hoped that he was just over reacting, that Aph had taken Lilith to Phoenix Drop or at least somewhere that people knew where they were. He was probably just being paranoid.

Doubt was almost instantly replaced with dread. When Aaron got to Phoenix Drop proper he knew that he was right. He wasn't just being paranoid. He could see Zoey walking towards the tree house with Lilith swaddled in her arms. Aaron could only feel a tinge of relief that she was at least okay. He could tell just from the look in Dante's eyes that Aph was dead. That kind of mourning was far too familiar.

"What happened?" He asked carefully, his body tensing to try and fight the oncoming wave of emotions.

"There was an explosion in the forest, shortly before sunrise," Dante began, taking a deep breath to keep his voice even. He had already done enough crying when he got home, he had to keep himself together in front of others. "Garroth was there, but Zane and Aph… weren't."

"D-Did she leave anything behind?"

"Her diary, which Garroth has. And--" Dante reached into his armor and handed Aaron a folded page. He unfurled it and could once again feel his heart sink as he read over her words. She knew. And he should have known she would do it. It's in a lords nature to sacrifice themselves no matter how foolish it is to do so. "I'm sorry--"

"Don't." Aaron took a steady breath, read the letter over again, and then handed it back to Dante. "I'll go make sure I can move in with Lilith and look after her."

"Right. Let me know if you need any help with that." Aaron just nodded, moving past Dante and pulling the bandana out of the pocket of his cloak. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to hide. Given the pitying look Dante gave him, he wasn't doing a very good job in the first place.

Though Dante's concern was nothing compared to the look of complete despair in Zoey's eyes. They were blood shot, and she had clearly been crying, but even when she wasn't she looked completely miserable. A weary smile spread across her face, but it was quickly replaced with the morose look she wore before.

"I-I'm sorry for taking Lilith without saying anything," She began with a teary voice. "It was just the first thing I thought of when I heard the--"

"It's okay," Aaron answered simply. "Thank you for looking after her." He grabbed a guitar from the weapon stand. Most weapon stands had them now, and it was a top priority to have musical instruments at the ready. Aaron was one of the people who pushed it most. "The little one will be cared for."

Lilith let out a small giggle, reaching for the end of Aaron's bandana as he leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He settled back, sitting next to Zoey as he tuned the well loved instrument. [Insert Flowers on the Battlefield here]

The moment Zoey heard the familiar notes she couldn't stop her tears. She tried in vain to wipe them, to hide them from Lilith, but there wasn't much she could do. Aaron himself was only able to hide behind his bandana, but it didn't do a lot. The melody just reminded them of good times, and the crushing defeat of those times being taken away so suddenly.

Nobody knew where Garroth was at first. Travis assumed he'd be at Aph's house, but the place was hauntingly empty. It was from the top of the hill that he could not only hear Aaron's guitar, but he could see Garroth down at the docks, trying in vain to tear out old planks of wood. It was the first time Travis had really gotten a look at Garroth, especially without the armor. He looked… So sad.

He at least wanted Lilith to hear the song one more time. To remember the sound that could so perfectly encapsulate her mother and her impact on those around her. Even if she would never get to properly meet her.

Garroth's head jerked the minute Travis was close enough to notice. Travis nervously held his hands up as a sign of peace, which Garroth just turned away from.

"Hey," Travis said awkwardly. "I'm Travis."

"I guess you already know my name," Garroth replied, refusing to look at him.

"Look I--" Travis held back the urge to put a hand on Garroth's shoulder. "I'm not great at emotional stuff. And I know we really don't know each other, but I-I knew Aph, and I knew Laurance, and they both told me a lot about you. I thought I'd… I don't know." Travis took a shaky breath. "Sorry…"

"Aph was always better at the emotional talks, wasn't she?"

"I wanted to see if I could do anything for you." Travis stepped so he was standing next to the man. "Could at least get that splinter out."

"Yeah." Garroth let out a sigh, tearing another board out and groaning as a splinter slipped into his finger.

"Is there something you wanted?"

"It's not worth worrying about." Travis let out a small sound, almost a laugh, which made Garroth finally look up to meet him eye to eye. Some part of his heart ached at the sight of Travis' bright green eyes. They were almost the same color as Laurance's when Garroth met him. "What's so funny?"

"Aph once said that was one of the phrases she hated the most. That she was tired of her friends and guards saying that to her, because she wanted nothing more than to look after everyone, ensure we were all doing okay at the very least." Travis took a deep breath, hoping that this would be the right move. "She said it was one of the last things you had said to her before running away."

"I was a fool to let Zane get the better of me."

"From what I heard, sounds like you didn't have a choice." Garroth raised his eyebrow. "That companion of his, with the mask? She knew mind control, you really didn't have full control over yourself once she got into your head."

"H-How do you know?"

"I knew the minute Aph described the mask to me. It's something my mother warned me about." Garroth let out a small chuckle, followed by nearly full blown laughter as a tear forced its way down his face. "D-Did I--"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong." Garroth let another tear slip out. "I just, I never knew for sure. I couldn't quite tell what my own thoughts were and what she or Zane wanted me to think. I was worried it was my own foolishness entirely that doomed my friends."

"Well, that's a bit dramatic." Garroth laughed again, almost incredulously.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sure, you messed up pretty badly, but it wasn't entirely your fault. And even if it was, it hasn't all been bad." Travis gestured to the Phoenix Settlement. "That village is making a real comeback, and it's only getting better every day. And if it weren't for those 15 years, I might not have met everyone." Garroth glanced over at the elder tree that stretched out across the skyline. His arms ached at the memory of her weight in them. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close again.

"B-But she…" Travis awkwardly held a hand out to Garroth, who just stared at it. Travis simply placed his hand in Garroth's and took a deep breath.

"Look, I didn't know Aph half as well as you did, but I do know that she wouldn't want you to blame yourself for this." Garroth turned away, swallowing down further tears. Travis squeezed his hand, before pulling away. "I'll give you some time to yourself. Let me know if you ever need anything." Travis turned, and it was only when he was a few steps away that Garroth finally spoke.

"Thank you," He whispered. Garroth knew he was alone after that, letting him take a step back, and then sit on the part of the docks that wasn't falling apart. His eyes drifted to the diary tucked into his bag. Was there… A page looked out of place. Garroth reached forward and pulled on it, pulling out a fairly worn piece of paper, one that he could tell just from a glance was stained with tears.

Garroth and Laurance,

Oh no.

I know what I'm doing is especially unfair to you two. We all fell in love together, and I wish we could grow old together. There's a chance we still could. But there won't be a chance if Garroth can't be there with us. So I have to bring him back.

Laurance, I can't even imagine how you'll feel. I really wish there was another way, but I can't have anyone else, especially you, sacrificing themselves for something I want. If I could make you do one thing, I'd make you promise not to run away. Please, don't leave him. Please.

Garroth, I'm so sorry. I truly wish there was more I could say to express how much I currently miss you, and how much I'm going to. But you deserve to have a life, to see the way the world has changed because of your bravery, and you deserve to have your chance at a redemption I don't think you need.

I love you both.

"What is wrong with you?!" Vylad roared as he grabbed Laurance and nearly threw him to the ground.

This one wasn't signed. It didn't have to be. It was stained with tears that belonged to more than its writer.

"Ow! The fuck-- Vylad?!" Laurance groaned as he threw off Vylad's grip. The two were just at the edge of the cursed forest, not too far from the borders of Meteli. "What are you doing here?"

"Telling you to go back to Phoenix Drop!"

"I-I can't! Vylad, if I go back there I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."

"You learned to control yourself around her, you can do the same for him."

"I don't know if I can! I couldn't live with myself if I killed him!"

"If you don't go back there he might kill himself!!" Laurence froze. His breathing started to pick up.

"Wh… N-No, Garroth wouldn't. He's stronger than that--"

"He's always been at his strongest with the people he loves at his side. One of them is dead and he thinks it's his fault, and the other ran away from him before he could properly grieve. I doubt many could survive."

"Then why are you here?! He's your brother!"

"Because I don't know my brother. It's been almost 20 years since the last time I saw him face to face, I-I don't know nearly as much about him as you do."

"And what if I lose control? His blood would be on your hands."

"If I don't get you back to him now then it definitely will be." Laurance backed away, his head starting to ache as voices clashed within. The calling was jumping at the idea of going back to him, and Laurance hated that he was going to agree to it. But he had to. If Garroth died without him, because he left… He couldn't even entertain the thought.

"How are you holding up?" Katelyn glanced up at Lucinda, who had just placed a cup of tea on her bedside table.

Laurance took off, shortly followed by Vylad.

"How do you think?" Katelyn bit back. She instantly regretted it when she saw the hurt look in Lucinda's bloodshot eyes. "S-Sorry. That came out… Harsher than I intended."

"It's alright. I'm unfortunately familiar with some of the feelings around this."

"So am I." Lucinda sighed, leaning back and taking a sip of her own tea. "Is that how you're handling it so well?"

"Handling it well? Katelyn, if I didn't have a silencing glyph on my room you would have heard every miserable tear I shed last night." Katelyn frowned at the almost calm look on Lucinda's face.

"Why are you trying to hide it then?"

"Everyone's grieving right now. No need to saddle anyone else with my baggage."

"Like I said, I've got some myself. Why not let me lighten the load?"

"Are you sure?" Katelyn sat up a little more, leaning against the headboard of Lucinda's guest bed.

"I may not know you that well yet, but I know you cared about Aph. I think we all have that in common. Might as well care about her and mourn her together, right? It's what she would've wanted."

"She did always like bringing unlikely people together." Lucinda let out a sad sigh, setting her teacup aside. "During those fifteen years you were all gone, I lost my dad. I-I wasn't sure if everyone was dead or not when you all disappeared, but I saw my dad in his final moments. I held his hand as he passed… I suppose I'm not even sure Aph is dead until I see it."

"You still think she's alive?"

"There's a nonzero chance. Though it could just be a desperate ploy to deny the truth."

"That's what it sounds like to me, sorry."

"No need to apologize. You're probably right. Suppose her dying without assurance has made me think she could do it again."

"She always did have a new trick up her sleeve. I wouldn't put it past her." Katelyn let out a shaky sigh. "Just wish she hadn't done this in the first place."

"You and me both."

"I used to feel the same way about Jeffory."

"Jeffory?"

"An old friend of mine. He and I were in the Jury of Nine together, and he was the only person I could trust for a long time. But then he risked his own life to save Aph, and when he died, I had to know why. I had to understand why he decided this woman was worth risking everything we had built for." Katelyn's hands clenched into fists as she fought tears. "I understand why he did what he did now more than ever."

"Levin!" Malachi called out as he entered their home. "Where are you?" His response was a sniffle from upstairs. Malachi groaned. In spite of his body being younger, he still felt 900 years old, and sometimes just climbing the stairs was exhausting. He found his brother curled up in the window of his room, his music box coming to it's end as Malachi across from him in the windowsill.

Lucinda felt the words she wanted to say getting caught in her throat. She understood exactly what Katelyn was saying, but she had no idea how to respond to it. So she thought about what Aph would do. She reached her hand out to Katelyn, and interlocked their fingers. Katelyn glanced down at their hands, back at Lucinda, and then she smiled. Both of them were clearly on the verge of tears, a hair trigger away from another grief induced meltdown, but for that moment they smiled.

"How are you so okay with this?" Levin asked, his voice laced with an unusual amount of bitterness.

"What in the name of Irene makes you think I'm okay with this?" Malachi replied with an almost too soft tone.

"I-I've barely seen you cry. When Dante told us, all you thought about was making sure everyone was okay, making sure we could repair the damages. Don't you care about her?"

"Of course I do. I know you were young, but I saw mom when she was a lord. She always acted in the interest of everyone else, ensuring everyone's safety before her own. I knew that's what she would have wanted. I thought you would understand that better than anyone."

"It's what we lords do..." Levin sniffled again, a tear pushing down his face again. "Why didn't she say anything to us?"

"What?"

"She left a note with final wishes for everyone, but she didn't even mention us. L-Like she wasn't even thinking about how we'd feel about our own mother throwing her life away!"

"She probably thought we'd be able to handle it. After all, we thought she was dead for all those years before--"

"But this isn't the same! We know she's dead!"

"We don't know for sure--"

"I'm not going to live in denial again!" Tears continued to stream down Levin's face as he looked out over his village. His home. Malachi put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Look at all you were able to do without her. She knew we'd be fine without her." Levin sobbed, burying his head into his brother's shoulder as Malachi held him close. "I-I'm going to miss her, but we know how to do this, don't we?"

"I-I don't want to."

"I know. So let's grieve now. We might not get the chance to later with the lives we lead." Levin nodded in acknowledgement, though Malachi could feel his shoulder starting to become wet from his brothers tears.

"Where is he?!" Laurance was almost in a blind panic, his heart racing and his breathing unsteady as he stumbled into the Phoenix Settlement. He felt almost alive. "Where's Garroth?!"

"Thank you." That's all it took for Malachi to join him.

"He was at the docks last time I saw him," Travis answered. "Where have--" Laurance was already gone. He wasn't thinking straight, only worrying about one thing. Just as Laurance reached the top of the hill and saw Garroth standing there, his left leg went limp. Laurance wasn't able to catch it happening before he took a step forward, resulting in him taking a very noisy and not exactly pleasant tumble down the path to the docks.

"Laurance?" Garroth questioned as he stood up and ran over to his lover. Laurance managed to push himself up from the ground and get a good look at Garroth's face. Tear stained. He was alive. He was breathing.

"Thank Irene you're alive," Laurance muttered.

"What?"

"N-Nothing." Laurance managed to get himself to sitting, but there was no hope for his leg coming back anytime soon. Garroth simply sat in front of him, Aph's note still in his hand. "Look, Garroth, I can't even begin to voice my regret. I-I shouldn't have run away from you. It was wrong of me to leave you alone, even if I thought I was protecting you. You're the last person in this forsaken world I would lay down my life for, and I was a fool to think I was doing any good by running away from that." Garroth smiled, and then took Laurance's hand and pressed a kiss to it.

"I'm glad you've come to this conclusion on your own." Garroth turned his hand over and placed her note in it. "I knew you would eventually, considering she already did, but I was worried it would take longer." Laurance's hands trembled as he read over the words, and by the time he was done, Garroth was sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around him, ready for the oncoming wave of emotions that was eventually going to hit Laurance.

He folded the paper, handed it back to Garroth, and then used his still working leg to bring himself around Garroth and wrap him in a proper hug. Garroth instantly wrapped his other arm around Laurance and just breathed. He just felt Laurance's weight, felt his breathing, felt his presence. He was back. In spite of his words Garroth had worried Laurance had truly abandoned him. It was more than he could ask for to have him here like this again.

And even when Laurance began to cry into his arms, Garroth was still eternally grateful.

"I'm sorry--"

"Laurance, it's okay," Garroth assured him. "I understand why you ran."

"I-I just didn't want to hurt you."

"I understand."

"But I love you. I love you so much and I never want to spend a second away from you."

"I love you too." Garroth took a deep breath, before he broke their embrace simply so he could hold Laurance's head in his hands and stare into those beautiful blue eyes. "We're going to get through this, tgoether."

"Irene?"

"Right, together." Laurance leaned forward and placed a kiss against Garroth's lips. It was easily the most alive he had felt since he had undergone his transformation. Even if he was still in an unimaginable amount of pain, even if he might tear his own life apart, even if everything could somehow get worse tomorrow, he was alive enough to kiss the man he loved. That's all he could ask for.

┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈

What...?

"Wake up, Irene. It's not your time to die just yet."

#btw aph did leave a note to her kids #sort of #teehee #n e ways #minecraft diaries #aphverse #aphblr #laurance zvahl #aphmau minecraft diaries #aphmau mcd #mcd #mcd laurance #mcd travis #mcd dante #travis valkrum #katelyn the firefist #mcd katelyn #mcd lucinda #mcd levin #mcd zoey #mcd aaron #aaron lycan #mcd garroth #garroth ro'meave #vylad ro'meave #mcd vylad #angst with comfort #alternate universe #garrancemau #gay block men

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: Animal Shenanigans

(for @vesuviaweekly 's "How things went wrong, featuring the familiars" prompt. Also featuring very sketchy doodles I did while playing DnD)

Chandra and Skye

(Nadia and Chimalus' familiars)

There aren't too many shenanigans as far as those two are concerned.

Chandra took sort of a motherly role to Skye.

And Skye is a very sweet little bluebird... most of the time.

Chandra tries. She really does. But she can't completely keep Skye out of trouble.

When not doing her self-proclaimed duties keeping Chimalus company and sometimes acting as a seeing-eye bird (the scar over Chimalus' eye left them half-blind) Skye loves going Places where Small Birds Should Not Be.

She particularly likes to hide inside teapots. 

Especially when said teapot is on the tea tray of anyone unlucky enough to annoy Chimalus. 

Chandra will sit by whatever table or shelf said tea set is on and hoot incessantly until someone finds Skye and coaxes her out. 

Skye is mildly annoyed by this. But she forgives Chandra every time. 

(Now if only Chandra could get it through her head that small birds do not need to eat anything like mice...) 

Malak and Oswald

(Julian and Damian's familiars)

Oswald is a little fruit bat, a rescue from the Red Market.

He's very smart and dedicated, a Firm Supporter of everything Damian does.

Malak is... well, Malak. He's the worrywart. But he's doing his best.

Oswald helps Damian with his potions and alchemy projects whenever he can, and it’s adorable and Oswald is very good at it. 

Malak has occasionally tried to fetch things for Julian in the same way, but this is a bird who refuses to wash his claws, so Julian won’t have it. It’s unsanitary. (And thank you Brainrot for that amazing headcanon!)

Which inevitably leads to Malak trying to help Damian, which in turn leads to disaster.

Malak does not know what he is doing or what he is grabbing. 

And Malak, by nature, is both very suspicious of strange mysterious liquids and distracted by both shiny things and things that smell nice.

Both of which are abundant in Damian’s alchemy work. 

So not only does he always fail to grab the wrong thing, but he also drops stuff so he can go inspect The Latest Shiny. 

Damian is endlessly patient with him. Oswald is not.

(Malak don't do it don't drop the berries into the potion--)

Julian has needed to clean up after Malak's "help" on more than one occasion.

The most infamous one turned what was supposed to be a burn salve into a pile of stinky orange goo.  

It took a while to clean that up. And even longer to cheer up the very remorseful Malak.

Faust and Forge

(Asra and Meleia's familiars)

Forge is an adorable little fennec fox that Meleia rescued during one of her travels with Asra.

He's a shy little guy, and an absolute sweetheart. He doesn't usually get into trouble.

But he does have a "burrow" under Asra and Meleia's bed.

And he loves to hoard blankets to make his burrow more cozy 

Faust wholeheartedly encourages this. ("Crimes!") 

There was one day when Asra and Meleia found a very fancy blanket in Forge’s nest

Far fancier than anything they owned. 

Asra and Meleia had to use magic to find where it actually belonged. 

Thankfully the blanket was just from the palace, so they could easily return it 

Nadia and Portia ended up gifting the blanket to Forge anyway. 

Faust was rather smug about that. The whole mess was her fault and she is very pleased with the outcome. 

(No one knows how she managed to steal an entire blanket from the palace in the first place) 

Faust: "Teehee!" 

#vesuvia weekly #familiars screwed up #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana familiars #forge the fox #oswald the bat #skye the bluebird #arcana fan apprentice #oc info dump #my art #sketches

[shutit-haha]

Icarus pt.2

"Excuse me sir," you knocked on his doorframe per usual. "Disculpame," you smiled at him bashfully. You did this odd thing with your knees in which they bent a little. Bakugou glanced up at you from where he sat reading an article on a slim tablet. His large hand seemed out of place from where it balanced the skinny thing. He grunted at you, quirking a single blonde brow.

"I'm sorry," you entered into his space. "I just wanted you to double check my calculations on this presentation before I started on the visuals." You had made it half way across his office space wings sparkling in the sunlight like always. Unfortunately for him today you opted for more casual wear, pants with a lovely top. You wore it well however he preferred the skirts and dresses.

You scuttled over leaning over the corner of his desk just a little so you could pass him your laptop. He sighed, placing his tablet down on his desk. Your head tilted slightly so you could read the upside down characters. It was a split screen, one tab containing a file on the temperatures his quirk could reach while the other was on the feathers of birds. He seemed to be trying to find a specific one as there were multiple types drawn out in front of him.

"You did all the math yourself?" Again with that brow of his eyeing you suspiciously. Your choice of shoes today were an interesting choice, some familiar brand he knew of but could not name. It gave him an odd feeling of displacement. His eyes scanned over your jewelry and again there was that feeling of displacement. This time, however it was your shirt.

"Yes sir." You gave him a nod, "took out some scratch paper and worked out the formulas."

"None of the extras out there can double check this for you?"

"No names come immediately to mind." You shook your head, eyes moving around his spacious office. It was large, with windows that lined the left wall and fell to the floor. The whole space was minimalist and very...neutral. It felt empty and in no way homey.

"Whole fuckin' office is filled with dumbasses." He muttered to himself, sighing and punching the bridge of his nose. Upon hearing himself his eyes widened, "you didn't hear that." His voice was low and husky as if exhausted, he handed you back your laptop. "HR 'll kill me if they hear about this."

"It's no stress sir really." You smile at him, pulling the laptop close to you. "Am I good to go on visuals?"

"Yea." He had already picked back up his tablet to continue his research. "Bring me the resumes of all the employees here. I want the up to date ones too." He glanced up at you before returning his attention back to his reading. "Gonna start hiring people with some more fuckin' brains."

You nodded, understanding that this meant some people were going to have to be fired. With a quick turn on your heels you were moving back across his office. "You know," you stopped halfway. "If you're to be reading like that you should probably invest in blue light glasses."

He grunted, giving you a curt nod despite not bothering to make eye contact. You pursed your lips, taking in a deep breath before finally exiting.

Your desk was stationed right outside his office. Where the door was always closed but never locked. Sometimes red riot would stop by, always waving with a bright smile. Deku would pass, mumbling words of affirmation to himself as a way to work up confidence. whenever Chargebolt joins Red Riot he always leaves some kind of treat at your desk. The first time it was lollipops, the next some pastel pens he stole from some other heroes office. He was however banned when the last time he visited he left a bottle of Hennessey on your desk. You liked your job, it was pleasant.

The phone rang to your right. You took a sip of your sugar water before answering. "Hello?" Some sort of dog-man was on the line, a police chief who just made a bust. "Yes of course," you weren't entirely sure how this related to Dynamite. "I'll let him know right now." The line drops and you're up on your feet again.

"I'm really sorry Sir."

He huffs when you knock on his doorframe for the second time today. Ruby eyes glare up at you, it's only been about a half hour since you've left. Again you were bending at the knees a smiling nervously.

"A police station called something about drugs-"

"Shit!" He jumped up to his feet nearly dropping his tablet before catching it. "How long ago was the call?" He pulled on his mask grabbing some war paint on his desk and smearing it on his eyelids.

"About a minute ago sir," you watched him stumble around. He was bulky, and looked like a bit of an idiot with the way he rushed. But for every fumble he followed it through with a smooth catch, he'd trip over his own feet only to twirl around and be stable. It was like watching a well trained dancer, all these purposeful falls, these near misses meant to keep you interested.

Bakugou nodded, yanking on his gauntlets and then storming out of his door. He was halfway down the hall when he stopped to glare at you over his muscular shoulder. "The hell are you doing, hah? Get back to work!"

You sneered quickly catching your face and fixing its expression. You pursed your lips, shut his door behind you and scurried off to your desk. There really wasn't anything for you to do. Just add a bunch of colors to a presentation, Bakugou was supposed to have done. With a sigh, you took another sip of your drink and opened the database on your monitor. Page by page, checking all resumes were up to date before printing them. Should Dynamite ever comeback the papers would be waiting for him on his desk. Along with a pair of blue light glasses you were currently picking out.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #x reader #spanglish #boss x reader #boss x employee #bnha #puertorican reader

[roboticchibitan]

A Cottage Witch and her Dragon 19

(You can read the rest of this original story on AO3 here)

The entire street was abuzz with excitement. The rundown, boarded up cottage next to Serenity's own small cottage was being fixed up! The construction crew said the family of the elderly previous owners had sold it, and the new owner was fixing it up to rent it out. All the neighborhood could talk about was the new neighbor, and how much the landlord would charge for rent, and how everyone hoped the neighbor, whoever they ended up being, would be a good addition to the community.

"Serenity, when they move in, you come with me to greet them," Granny told Serenity excitedly over tea. "Maybe we'll get ourselves a cousin to add to our little neighborhood family."

Serenity smiled at the thought. "Okay, but I refuse to bother them until they've had a chance to unpack."

"I suppose that's fair," Granny said in tones of defeat.

Dragon let out a little questioning "mrrp" from his spot in his bed next to the fire, sending a questioning feeling along with it.

"Granny invited me to visit the new neighbor with her when they come!" Serenity told him.

Dragon wiggled excitedly and sent a questioning "me too?" kind of feeling. He was just as excited as everyone else, having told Serenity in his little emotion-sharing way that he was hoping for another playmate like Lucy when the new neighbor appeared.

"I don't know," Granny teased, "I think a big dragon might scare them off. Maybe you'll have to stay home."

Dragon let out an indignant shriek.

"I'm just teasing, you little troublemaker. Of course you can come with us."

Dragon, looking very pleased, nodded as if to say "Yes, good, as it should be," then curled back up in his little bed and went back to ignoring Serenity and Granny.

It was a week after construction had finished when Serenity happened to notice someone leaving the newly renovated cottage. It was six in the morning and Serenity was not awake yet, but she was headed to her market stall with her backpack that shrinks things you put into it. Dragon, as usual, sat draped around her shoulders like a sentient scarf. According to Francis Draflow's Field Guide to Dragon Familiars, a dragon familiar could choose what size they wished to stop growing at, and Serenity suspected Dragon was choosing to be a shoulder dragon for the foreseeable future.

The first thing Serenity noticed about the new neighbor was their hair. It was royal blue, shaved on one side, and braided prettily across the top and side of their head on the other. She could feel magical energy emanating from it. They must have gone to a magic hair salon. There was more magic about them, a glamour of sorts, it felt like. But it wasn't any type of glamour Serenity had ever come across before.

The neighbor, who was facing away from Serenity and towards their door, appeared to be struggling with something inside the cottage.

"Excuse me," said Serenity, not at all ready to talk to another human person this early in the morning, but also not able to leave someone who might need help to their own devices. "Excuse me, do you need help?"

The neighbor turned around, looking exasperated. This neighbor was wearing a blue sundress with sunflowers on it, and holding the most ornately carved cane Serenity had ever seen. It was a mass of vines and flowers curling around the central pole. She couldn't tell for sure because it was in the neighbor's hand, but it looked like the handle was carved in the shape of a bird.

Serenity noticed that this person, despite wearing feminine clothes, really didn't give off a sense of being female. She didn't notice anything about this person's body, just their clothes. She sensed the glamour getting stronger as she thought about it. Interesting. The next thing Serenity noticed was the pin on their sundress that said "They/them." Good to know, Serenity thought to herself.

"I'm sorry," said the blue haired neighbor apologetically. "Could you help me pull this wagon over the threshold of my cottage? I'm really weak today and I'm struggling."

"Sure!"

They stepped aside and offered Serenity the handle of the wagon, which she took. She couldn't tell what was in the wagon because there was a tarp over the contents, but it was not light.

With a quick pull, she got the first set of wheels over the threshold, and then another pull got the back wheels over, and the wagon was free.

"Here you go," Serenity handed the wagon back to the neighbor. "I'm Serenity by the way, and this is Dragon. We're your next door neighbors."

"I'm Cat," they smiled at her, brushing a stray lock of blue hair away from their face. "Thank you! I'm flaring after moving but I have to get to the market before it opens. I have a stall there. Today is my first day!"

"Oh, I have a stall at the market too!" Serenity smiled back. "I sell items with enchantments knitted and crocheted into them, and herbal teas with just a little magic thrown in to make them more effective."

"Oh, are you a witch? Then this must be your familiar!" Cat turned towards Dragon and waved. "Hi there."

Dragon waved back, then sent Serenity a questioning feeling.

"I don't think they have kids, Buddy," Serenity told him, then turned to Cat. "You seem a little young to have kids, is all," she explained.

"Yeah, I just graduated from Rodgate University of the Arts. I don't have kids."

Dragon let out an exaggerated sigh.

"He's disappointed because he was hoping to get another playmate out of the new addition to the neighborhood."

"Aww, I'll play with you," they said, smiling. "What kind of games do you like to play?"

Dragon perked up at this, and asked Serenity to relay the types of games he played sometimes.

"Well, he plays dress up with Lucy, the little girl down the street, and he plays catch sometimes."

Dragon sent Serenity an amendment.

"But not fetch. He's a familiar, not a pet. He normally just plays whatever games Lucy comes up with, honestly."

"Can he play board games?"

"You can just talk to him. He's sentient. I just have to interpret. He doesn't exactly speak yet, it's more like communicating through emotions. Witches can sense them. But it's considered rude to eavesdrop."

Dragon tapped her head and added a thought.

"Except for Granny Thomas, the neighbor on the other side of me. She's a retired weather witch. She's allowed to do all the snooping she wants."

"A snoopy old lady, huh?"

"The best snoopy old lady," Serenity corrected. "She'll adopt anyone looking for love, and a lot of people who aren't. She's raised dozens of kids and it wasn't enough. She makes the neighborhood a family."

Cat smiled widely. "I love it. Found family is so important. I've been looking for my own, you know."

"Your own family or your own found family?"

"Found. My own family is gone, now." A look of sadness settled on their face. "My grandma raised me, and she passed away last year."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. My parents died when I was young, and then my aunt died when I was a teenager. My mentor raised me. She wasn't the nurturing sort, but she did her best."

"We're all orphans in the making," Cat said with false cheerfulness. "Everyone's parents die eventually."

"Very true."

"Well, will you walk with me to the market? We're going to be late!"

"Oh drat. Yes, let's go."

Serenity matched her pace with Cat's, which was slower than her usual gait but not painfully slow. She noticed her new neighbor grimacing as they walked, and thought perhaps a free sample of joint tea might be in order.

"Should I pull your wagon for you? It's pretty heavy."

"Oh, but you have your backpack already," they objected.

"Don't worry about that, it's very light. I cast a spell on it to shrink everything inside. I can fit an army in this backpack and it still wouldn't be very heavy."

Cat's eyes widened with excitement. "Woah! That's so cool! Do you by chance sell those?"

"I sell smaller bags with the same enchantment. And I take commissions. That enchantment takes a lot of work, though, so it's a bit expensive."

"Do you think you could make it wide enough to hold paintings?" They asked.

"Paintings? You're a painter? That's awesome!"

"And a sculptor. I dabble in a lot of different arts. This wagon is super heavy. I thought I could handle it, but I'm not really sure that's feasible on bad days like today."

"Why don't you let me pull it for today, then. And we can make arrangements for later on the way."

"Okay, thank you," they said, their voice full of relief.

Serenity took the wagon and started pulling it behind her. Cat walked a little bit faster, and together they headed towards the Valley Commons market square.

"How much would you charge for a large bag?" Cat asked.

"Well, it would depend on the size of the bag and how big the things you want to store in it are. For something that could hold medium sized paintings, I would probably say 75 crowns. If you want it to fit larger paintings, then 100."

Cat looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I can't commission you right away, because I just spent most of my savings on moving, but that would legitimately be a matter of accessibility for me, so I will save up for it. I'll show you my paintings when we get to the market and you can tell me whether it would be a medium or large bag."

Dragon sent Serenity a feeling of concern and the familiar feeling that meant, "please help."

"Dragon says I should pull your wagon in the meantime," Serenity said, smiling. "I am at market Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I can pull your wagon on those days, since you're right next door and we're going to the same place."

A look of absolute relief crossed Cat's face. "That would be so incredibly helpful. Those are my days at market too. I have bad joints and a disorder that makes my sense of pain be a lot stronger. If I exert myself too much like with moving, or sometimes when there's bad weather, I end up very weak."

"Oh, you should try my joint tea then! It's... it won't cure anything. I don't do false advertising, it absolutely won't cure anything. But it's got a lot of herbs that help with inflammation, as well as a few that help with pain, and I've added just a little bit of magic just to make those ingredients work better and harmonize together. Most of the neighbors buy it from me regularly, so while I don't know if it would work for you, it does work for some people."

Cat smiled. "It's worth a try. I've tried pretty much everything. Some things help, but it's never enough."

"I can't promise my tea will be enough either, but like you said, it's worth a shot."

They chatted as they made their way to the market. Cat's stall was at the end of the row that Serenity's stall was on. Serenity helped them unload some stands and put up some paintings, as well as putting some wooden animal sculptures on the display table. The paintings were beautiful stylized landscapes, and the sculptures had a lot of swirls and flow to them. Serenity's favorite was a sculpture that depicted an otter in water. The way the waves of wood looked like real water was almost magical.

Lastly, Cat set out several hand carved wooden canes. Several were plain on the shaft, with ornately carved handles. One was a crow, another was a snake. Serenity liked the thicker cane with floral carvings that seemed to grow up from the ground the best.

"You made these?" Serenity asked, though it was an obvious question.

"I did! My major specialty was painting until my grandma started going blind. I switched it to sculpture halfway through my freshman year so she could still experience my art in the time she had left. So I do a bit of both."

"That's lovely. I'm sure your grandmother was grateful."

Cat looked a little far away. "She was. She was there for all my terrible first attempts, and I'm glad I got to show her things I was actually proud of before she passed."

"What a great memory."

"Yes, it is. Well," said Cat, changing the subject, "Now that you've seen my paintings, what size bag do you think I would need?"

Serenity pondered the paintings for a moment. "I could fit all but the largest ones in a large bag. It would be 100 crowns, but for a neighbor I can take installments."

"Oh, would you?" Cat replied in tones of relief. "I moved into Valley Commons because so much of my monthly budget goes towards my gender glamour. It's expensive, but it really helps my dysphoria. I consider it a necessary expense."

"That makes sense. I've had trans friends, but I've never been close to someone who was nonbinary. If that's how you identify?"

"Yes! I ID as nonbinary and queer. I use they/them pronouns and I have masc days and femme days; the glamour allows for acknowledging that but not gendering me."

"That's a really fascinating glamour, professionally speaking. It must be energy intensive for the witch who does it."

"Yes, there's a whole coven who works on these types of glamours. They take on individual people as their clients. It's expensive, but it makes life worth living, so I continue. They actually give me a discount, but it's still a lot of money."

"That makes sense. It's a strong glamour. I'm glad they give you a discount, though."

They were interrupted by Mr Cuttle, the leather worker who made Dragon's prosthetic wings, coming across the way to introduce himself.

"A new face at the market, I see!" Was his opening line.

"Good morning, Mr Cuttle," Serenity greeted him. "This is my new neighbor and our new market-mate, Cat!"

Mr Cuttle extended his hand to Cat in a gesture of friendship. "Nice to meet you, Cat. I'm Timothy Cuttle. I do leather work and my stall is right across from yours."

Cat took his hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Timothy. I'm new to the neighborhood, but everyone is so friendly. Serenity helped me get my wares here today. I almost got stuck at my front door! She really saved me this morning."

"Serenity here is a good egg," Mr Cuttle agreed. "We have traded goods on occasion, and her work is top notch."

"So is Mr Cuttle's," Serenity responded. "Dragon still practices flying with your prosthetic wings! And they're really a genius design."

"Does Dragon have limb differences?" Cat asked, looking over at Serenity's stall where Dragon laid curled up in the bed she brought to market with him. He wasn't a morning person either.

"Yes, his wings haven't grown with the rest of him. Dragons don't technically need wings to fly. It's all magic that keeps them in the air because they are actually too heavy to fly on wing strength alone. But if the wings do not grow in properly, sometimes they need prosthetic wings to trigger their flight instincts. Dragon is still practicing flying, as his magical energy is very strong and he has trouble controlling it, and it can negatively affect the people around him if he can't control it properly."

"So that's why he hasn't been flying around all our heads," Mr Cuttle said cheerfully. "Once he gets it, he'll be unstoppable!"

"He'll be a menace, Granny Thomas says," Serenity laughed.

"And Granny Thomas is always right," Mr Cuttle acquiesced.

"She is, it's true."

"I can't wait to meet this person," Cat said. "She sounds like a character."

"She is the kind of person that you can't get angry at, because no matter what she does, she means well and she shows it."

"I like her already!"

"Well, folks are starting to come out of the woodwork, so I better head back to my stall," said Mr Cuttle. "It was nice meeting you! Your sculptures are absolutely beautiful!"

"Thank you!" Cat replied, waving as he departed.

"I had better go too," Serenity added. "I'll walk home with you this evening! Let me pull your wagon."

"I would appreciate it. I hope you make lots of sales today!"

"Thank you, me too," Serenity said wryly.

Serenity departed for her own stall, where Dragon waited in his little mohair sweater. The day passed by quickly. The market wasn't just a place for buying and selling. It was also a place for residents of Valley Commons to connect and keep each other up to date with the various workings of their personal lives, the neighborhood, and the city. Serenity visited with several friendly market-goers and some of her regular customers. Her joint tea and sleepy tea were both very popular, and she had a couple blends that were primarily made for flavor, rather than effect.

Finally, 6 pm rolled around, and it was time to go home. Serenity gathered her wares and stored them in her backpack, then made her way to Cat's stall to help them pack up.

"How was your first day?"

"Everyone was really friendly! I sold a cane and some smaller carvings, and one painting. It wasn't a lot, but this actually isn't my main source of income. I have several gallery shows going on right now, and a fellowship with the Rodgate Art Association. I just have the market stall for something to do with myself, because if I don't have somewhere I need to go I will just stay home all day every day and it's bad for my brain."

"I know what that's like," Serenity replied. "You should meet Granny, the neighbor on the other side of me. She'll make sure you're never lonely. Mr and Mrs Roberts across the street are very nice, too, and will lend you an egg or two if you realize you're short right in the middle of making cookies."

"It sounds like the neighbors all get along well! That's really nice. I lived in a more upscale part of town growing up, and we didn't talk much to our neighbors."

"It is nice! And if you like kids, Lucy will be happy to come and ask you a million questions about your art. She's a bit of a loud little kid, but she's so funny. Her and Dragon are best friends."

Here Dragon nodded emphatically, as if to say "Yes, best friends."

"She sounds delightful. Loud little kids are the best. They're so enthusiastic about everything."

Dragon nodded again, this time giving off a sense of "Yes, good, you understand."

"He's glad you understand how good loud little kids are. He's a bit of a loud little kid at times, himself."

Dragon frowned and sent her the emotional equivalent of "You take that back."

"You are!" Serenity exclaimed to him, "You shriek!"

Dragon, who was sitting on Cat's table, slowly and deliberately folded his arms and looked away from Serenity.

Cat laughed. "I don't need a translation for that one."

"Let me help you pack up," Serenity said, clapping her hands together. "We can head home and I can introduce you to Granny!"

"I’m looking forward to it!"

With Serenity's help (and Dragon's very important supervision), the booth was quickly packed up and the trio headed home.

As they turned the corner onto their street, Serenity spotted Granny waiting outside her door. Dragon gave an excited yell and jumped down from Serenity's shoulders, using a tiny bit of magic to float down slowly. He ran to Granny's side, excitedly tugging on her dress as he told her "Neighbor! Nice! Honey! Share!"

"You rascal, you just want honey," Granny said in tones of exasperation.

"Good evening, Granny," Serenity greeted the older neighbor. "I met our new neighbor today! Cat, this is Granny Thomas. Granny, this is Cat. They are an artist!"

"An artist, huh? How exciting! And Cat is a lovely name. Is that short for Catherine?"

"No, actually. It's short for Catnip."

"Catnip? That's an unusual name."

"My grandma used to say I was like a cat on catnip when I was little, and eventually it stuck as a nickname. When she died a year ago I changed it. I go by Cat on femme days and Nip on masculine days."

"Oh, that's very sweet. I love that!" Granny said enthusiastically. "It's so unique!"

"Thank you! It's a bit silly, I'm aware, but I like it, and that's what matters."

"I think it's so neat that young people in the community are picking their own names. I don't understand the pearl clutching about it. I make everyone call me Granny instead of my name, because that's what I am. So it makes sense to me that young folks would want that bit of self actualization too."

Dragon tugged on Granny's dress again, causing her to look down.

"You want honey, do you? Pest!" She said it in tones of complete fondness. "Alright, why don't you two put your things from market away, and then come over for some tea and a snack?"

"That sounds nice," Cat said. "I get lonely living alone."

"Well you are welcome to come knock on my door any time those four walls get too loud," Granny said cheerfully. "I don't work, and if I'm not home I'm usually at Serenity's. We're like family."

"That sounds lovely, thank you," Cat replied.

Serenity helped Cat deposit their wares in their tiny cottage, which had the same one room for kitchen and living and one bedroom layout as Serenity and Granny's cottages, and then they scurried over to Granny's for the promised tea and snacks.

#a cottage witch and her dragon #serenity and dragon #my writing #original fiction #my art stuff #things I made

[fabfabanni]

Dungeons & Daddies fic 2/∞ (season 1&2 spoilers)

I see there are a whopping 2 likes on my previous post, which is honestly 2 more than I thought I'd see. To celebrate that, here's part two of my silly Grant&Marco fic. Thanks for the brilliant people in DnDads discord who gave me the inspiration for this one! <3

---

I have a weird feeling about this. To start with, it’s ludicrous I agreed to go on a date. After pulling an all-nighter no less. I had to stop Lark from setting the shooting range on fire on two different occasions. One might think you wouldn’t need to babysit an adult man at his own company. One would be wrong. 

Marco smiles at me from the driver’s seat. I do feel a little bad about how I make him work for it. His words, repeated just a minute ago. He talks, I answer. I should be asking questions, and holding up my part of the conversation. It’s just, I’m fucking tired. Literally and figuratively. 

He drives well, the acceleration is smooth and I can feel him releasing his foot off the gas way before he needs to start braking. Dad would be impressed. Not that he’ll learn about this, date, thing. There’s no reason to get his hopes up over nothing, this thing will crash and burn before we finish the pancakes Marco keeps talking about.

“This is it,” Marco says, pointing a little ways ahead of us. I see the blue text on a white background and scoff loudly before I can reign my reaction in. 

“IHOP, really?” I seriously doubt we’ll even see the menu before this is over. I could be palming a handful of melatonin and crashing on my mattress to the sounds of my rainfall soundtrack right now. 

Marco’s hand settles behind the back of my chair as he parallel parks to a spot right in front of the diner. “It’s not IHOP, not as in International House of Pancakes. The letters stand for something else,” he says. “I forget what they stand for, but I’ve heard this place is all the rage. My friend has been raving about it for weeks.”

Somehow that rings a bell in my mind. I’m not sure why Marco’s explanation is familiar, I do not follow social media. I shrug off the thought and step out of Marco’s car. From the outside, it looks exactly like an IHOP. Maybe I’m being scammed? Now that I think of it, I can’t even recall what Marco’s position is at D.A.D.D.I.E.S. It has to be something important if he has clearance to my floor. Unless he stole a badge, twice since I saw him on Monday too. 

The inside of the restaurant is somehow the opposite of IHOP if that’s possible. Instead of faux leather seats and cheap laminate tables, nearly everything is made of warm, amber-colored wood. Marco greets the host behind a counter covered in moss and greenery. The space smells like fresh air and fruits, a vast difference to my memories of burner grease and lemon-scented cleaning spray. I swear I hear birds singing behind the greenery fixture that covers the whole back wall. 

“Li for two? Right this way,” the host says and takes two wooden menus from the counter. This place is ridiculous. Just the sort of place my uncle-.

“Grant? Is that you?”

I turn in slow motion towards the familiar voice. For a fraction of a second, I consider just leaving Marco here and bolting out of the door. Alas, however bad my reputation is, ditching a perfectly kind man without explanation is where I draw the line. 

“Uncle Henry,” I notice my pitch is higher than usual. Clearing my throat I continue, “What are you doing here?”

Henry wipes his hands on an apron and steps out of the open-concept kitchen. I see he hasn’t gotten rid of his Birkenstocks still. He looks good, not only because he is ridiculously healthy and doesn’t seem to age. He looks happy, too. Content. 

“What am I doing here, you ask?” His voice is bright and a little too loud, like always. “This is my restaurant, I Heart Our Planet. IHOP".” Uncle Henry sounds so proud as he gestures around him. There’s a diminishing, hidden part of me, that feels some kind of way seeing that. 

“That’s what it was!” Marco says behind me. 

Henry’s eyes fixate over my shoulder. I try to think of ways to lie myself out of this. Henry is not known to be subtle, and asking him to keep this a secret feels shitty. 

“Now now, who’s this gentleman?” he asks, with a smirk so wide it should be illegal. 

“Marco Li, a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he answers and offers his hand to my uncle. “I’ve heard amazing things about this place, it seems you have something great going on here,” he continues. 

“I like this one,” Henry stage-whispers to me and I want to sink underground. He wraps an arm around both of our shoulders and ushers us towards a booth set up against the greenery wall. The table is unadorned, set with cloth napkins, sturdy-looking silverware and glasses that look like they’ve been made out of the bases of glass bottles. 

“I’ll leave you to peruse the menu,” Henry says as the host hands them over to us. “My favourite is the sunrise,” he points to the top of the menu, “but you boys order whatever you like. It’s on the house! And all plant-based, and very healthy for you of course.” 

Uncle Henry likes to ramble on, I let him. When he finally takes his leave, Marco turns to me and says, “What a funny coincidence this is your uncle’s place.”

“Yeah, funny,” I say.

Marco orders oat-banana pancakes with banana-peanut butter nice-cream and rooibos tea. I might get full on the hyphenations on that order alone. Instead of figuring out something to order for myself, I ask for the same.

“How was the night shift?” Marco asks when the waiter pours us both a glass of water and takes away our menus. 

“It was fine.”

“Don’t want to hear how my night was?” he asks.

“I assume you were sleeping.”

Marco rolls his eyes at me and for some god-forbidden reason, I find that attractive. This must be sleep deprivation. He takes off his glasses to clean them with the hem of his shirt and I see a peek of his stomach over the low table. Now, that is a whole other thing. 

Settling the glasses back on, Marco continues. “Is there something you’d like to talk about? I was never very good at racket sports and this solo tabletop tennis I’m playing is getting a little tiring.”

I huff out an uncomfortable laugh and scratch my neck. The image he is painting of me is not very pretty. “Why did you ask me out then if I’m that insufferable?” I ask. There is no heat to my words, even though the sentiment is there. 

Marco tilts his head and there’s a soft smile forming on his lips. I kind of want to get lost in it. I shouldn’t, but I want to. Everything about this man feels different. He seems sincere, but I can’t quite put a finger on why that is.

“The things I’ve heard about you are not flattering,” he starts. I think my original guess that this date thing will be done before we even get to the pancakes is not that far off. 

He continues, “Still, I can’t help but think there must be more to you than that. I want to get to know the man behind the rough reputation and short surly sentences.” Marco takes a sip of his water and smiles mischievously. “Also, I think you are really fucking cute.”

“Here are your pancakes,” Henry singsongs right next to us, handing over the plates. His voice is even louder than usual if that’s possible. My uncle’s smile is so big it’s a surprise there are no tears at the corners of his lips. As I lift the cloth napkin off the table to make space for the plate, I can’t help but think he must have heard what Marco just said.

#dungeonsanddaddies #fanfiction #grantwilson #marcoliwilson #dndads

[twistedtummies2]

Year of the Bat - Number 22

Welcome to Year of the Bat! In honor of Kevin Conroy, Arleen Sorkin, and Richard Moll, I’m counting down my Top 31 Favorite Episodes of “Batman: The Animated Series” throughout this January. TODAY’S EPISODE QUOTE: “All I wanted from you, dearie, was a little friendship! That would have cost you nothing!” Number 22 is…Birds of a Feather.

Much like Catwoman, the Penguin was a villain who was slightly shortchanged in the Animated Series, some would argue. Which is ironic because, in my opinion, the Animated Series gave us probably the best and most definitive take on the character there’s ever been. Why? Well, as I’ve said in the past, it’s because I feel the Penguin in this show sort of had a little something for everyone: in the first three seasons, he was depicted with a design inspired by the Danny DeVito version from “Batman: Returns,” due to a studio mandate by Warner Bros. His personality and methodology, however, was what you might call “Classic Penguin,” with him acting as an eccentric (but not deranged) gentleman thief. In the fourth season, things changed: now the Penguin had a more “Classic” design, making him appear more human and less grotesque, but his role as a gangster operating out of the Iceberg Lounge was more in line with the “Modern Penguin” most people are more familiar with today. So, no matter how you preferred your Pengy – more classic, more modern, more human, more monstrous – you kind of had your whole cake and could eat it, too. Despite this, most of Penguin’s appearances essentially just used him as the villain of the week, so to speak. He was never really the focal character, just a supporting rogue, or the chosen antagonist. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it did make him feel a little less interesting when compared to a lot of other villains in the series. One grand and glorious exception to this rule, however, has stood out over time: a somewhat more obscure episode entitled “Birds of a Feather.”

The plot is a classic “Villain Reform Episode,” as the Penguin vows to go straight…and actually means it! He genuinely wants to turn over a new leaf and start a new life. Unfortunately, he finds this to be more difficult than he expected…and his endeavors are only made more problematic by the introduction of a young lady named Veronica Vreeland. Veronica is a good friend of Bruce Wayne’s, and became a recurring character in the series; she’s a rich and somewhat spoiled socialite, whose privileged existence does lead to conflict…but her heart is usually in the right place, all the same. (Think of her as SORT OF like Charlotte from “Princess and the Frog,” from you Disney fans…just…way less hyperactive.) In this episode, Veronica – under some peer pressure from other wealthy friends of hers – begins to form a bond with Penguin, under the pretense of eventually inviting him to a big party she’s hosting.

Veronica is not doing this out of the goodness of her heart. The intention is that Oswald will be “part of the entertainment,” able to embarrass everybody that Veronica doesn’t like, and amuse everyone else. He’s essentially being treated as a clown, and he doesn’t even know it. All the while, Penguin starts to form romantic feelings for the young woman…and Veronica’s conscience starts to get the better of her, as she starts to form an affectionate attachment towards Penguin, as well. Of course, this being Gotham City, this can only lead to anything EXCEPT a happy ending. What’s great about the episode is the duality of its twin leads, and the way they get along. Penguin puts on the airs of an overblown aristocrat, but he’s not treated as a member of the social elite at all. He lives in squalor and is seen as a laughingstock at best, and a menace to society at worst. You truly feel bad for Penguin, because of the way he’s being treated, and because he is so totally sincere in both his desire to change and his hopes to befriend Veronica, or even gain her love. As for Veronica, while what she’s doing is horrible, not only does she see the error of her ways, but you’re given the impression that she’s really doing this to try and be “hip with the cool kids,” more than any innate malicious desire on her own part. Both are flawed people, but both are also not totally wicked in this story; the problem is simply that their desires clash, and by the time either could pull out and save face, it’s far too late. While Penguin was a great villain and had many fine antagonistic roles, it’s this episode that really cemented what a good character he truly was, and it remains something of a cult classic story for the series. It’s not as renowned as tales like “Heart of Ice” or “Mad Love,” but it’s definitely got a lot of fans, and I am certainly among them. Again, this is another episode where I feel bad for placing it so low, but hopefully the ones to come will not disappoint.

Tomorrow we move on to Number 21! Hint: “I’m a civic-minded citizen, with a lot of time on his hands!”

#list #countdown #best #favorites #new year's special #year of the bat #top 31 btas episodes #btas #batman: the animated series #dcau #dc #batman #animation #tv #number 22 #birds of a feather #penguin #oswald cobblepot #veronica vreeland

[whump-me-all-night-long]

Whumptober Day 6

No. 6 Proof of Life

Ransom Video | “I've got a pulse.” | Screams from Across the Hall

CW: civilian whumpee, mafia whumper, multiple whumpers, kidnapping, captivity, threats, "it" as a pronoun

The civilian could do nothing but tremble as the two men dragged them out of the van, slamming their knees down against rough pavement.

The civilian grunted quietly at the impact, but didn't risk struggling and making their situation worse.

Instead, they allowed themself to be gripped tightly, one man at each arm, and forced into an ominous warehouse. Inside, they ascended a couple flights of stairs before turning down a hallway.

The thugs stopped at one of the doors and, the one who had spoken to them so intimately before unlocked the door with a key from a ring attached to his waist.

Not wasting any time, the men then threw the civilian inside the small dark room, the silent one walking away with that.

The other, though, he stayed, smirking down at the civilian, who had frozen half-sprawled on the ground, staring up at him in terror.

“You certainly are a pretty one, aren't you?” he murmured, running his eyes down the length of the civilian’s body, making them shudder. “I certainly hope the boss’ll let me keep you. You just… you seem so fun.”

With one last parting grin, he turned to leave, taking care to loudly slam the door behind him, key scraping audibly in the lock.

The civilian allowed themself to sob, finally alone. After a few heaving breaths, they squinted their eyes, looking around.

The only light came from the hallway lights outlining the door. Standing shakily, the civilian used their hands to feel around the room.

After several minutes of blind searching, they could conclude that the room they were trapped in was tiny, most likely less than 25 square feet. The floor seemed to be some sort of smooth, cold tile, and the walls appeared to be barren. They also noted with no small amount of dread that the door had no handle on the inside of the room.

After finding nothing else, the civilian made their way towards one of the back corners, sitting down and curling their body as small as possible.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on them, like a mass behind their eyes. But their adrenaline-fueled terror kept them staring at the door.

They must've drifted off at some point because the next thing they knew, they were jolted awake by the sound of loud voices and the echoing tap of dress shoes against the floor.

Tensing up again, the civilian bit down on their lip until they tasted copper, trying to keep as silent and still as possible, as if that would do anything.

They watched stricken as two men walked in: the talkative one from earlier and a new man, who cut an imposing figure with his clearly tailored suit.

The fancy man paused a few feet from the civilian, staring down at them stonily. The familiar one stood a half-step behind him, watching warily.

“So,” the new man said in a bored drawl. “You're the little thing my man caught, are you?”

The civilian’s voice had abandoned them again, and all they could do was stare up at him with eyes sparkling with tears and begging for mercy.

“Well?” His voice raised, causing the civilian to flinch violently before nodding.

“Y-yes.. sir,” they replied in a hoarse whisper.

The man glanced at “his man” with an unreadable expression. “Really? The thing seems so timid and frail. Not usually your type.”

The other man shrugged. “What can I say, boss? The little bird caught my eye, and now I can't wait to clip those wings of theirs.”

The civilian was unable to stop the dry sob that came out of them at that, immediately clapping their hands over their mouth, but the damage was done.

Both of them turned to stare at them for a moment before the boss laughed.

“Well,” he said, clapping the other man on the shoulder as he turned to leave. “At least now we can be sure that it's not half-dead. I was worried that someone had already broken it, with all that sniveling and whimpering. But there's my proof of life.” He chuckled, moving to the door, lazily waving with one hand. “Have fun crushing that spark.”

Once he was gone, the other man stepped closer, crouching down in front of the civilian. Reaching out, he ignored the intense trembling from the civilian to gently tuck a strand of hair back behind their ear.

“Now it's just you and me, little bird.”

---

Taglist: @badluck990 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-vagabond-nun @shywhumpauthor @panic-and-chaos

#whumptober2022 #no. 6 #proof of life #oc #fic #civilian whumpee #mafia whumper #multiple whumpers #kidnapping #captivity #threats #it as a pronoun

[goldenpeng]

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄? When Xiao isn't stained by the gore of battle, he has a very clean, subtle smell. It carries a slightly bitter scent of qingxin, and I'd imagine it's refreshing and airy not unlike his element. Occasionally, he may also smell of the incense he burns during rituals intended to cleanse the land of evil spirits. He doesn't use anything to alter his scent and, really, there's no need for it anyway. He's been told even his sweat lacks any sort of odor.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄? Rough, frankly. His hands are tools like the rest of his body, and he treats them accordingly. Millennia of fighting haven't been overly kind to them, and he still bears scars from before he entered Morax' service. However, I imagine that they may soften somewhat once he lays down his duties. And, perhaps, feathers may once more sprout from the backs of his hands (teal-colored, as is the skin beneath his gloves).

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘? Flower petals and spring water, if you're lucky. He usually won't eat anything at all, content to draw energy from the nature surrounding him. If he finds himself returning to Wangshu Inn, he will usually consume the almond tofu that is prepared for him. On days when his karma burdens him particularly fiercely, he won't touch even that.

𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔���� 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄? Yes. He does, actually.

𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒? He neglects his needs, for one. No surprise there, but he's so used to placing duty and the will of those he views as superior above himself that he doesn't question this logic whatsoever. He's used to pain; His ability to bear pain is insane. If ever there was a time when he wasn't hurting, that would shock him more than anything. He also has various self-harming behaviors, most of which he isn't even aware of (pulling his hair, cutting his palms with his nails, intentionally allowing harm to come to him by not dodging attacks, etc.) Plus, he of course avoids food and sleep as much as possible. He can go long stretches without it due to being an adeptus, but that doesn't mean he isn't very familiar with hunger or delirium. He gets better at...not doing those things, but it used to be really bad when he was still new to Morax' service. He only knew worse before then, so even his pitiful state then felt like an improvement he did not deserve. (Not going into the various habbits he learned from his old mistress or else this would be even longer. Let's just say he'll find ways to punish himself if others won't lower themselves to 'dirty their hands'. He sees faults with himself that no one else does, but that does not exempt him from needing to offer recompense.)

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄/𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑? The one outfit is all you'll get from him. Megonias made it for him and insisted he wear it (rather than keep it safe somewhere so as to not let it be ruined). Xiao's accessories are strictly to aid him in his duty, such as his censer. Also, he doesn't style his hair. What you see is the result of him feeling impeded by hair getting into his face during battle and consequently cutting it off with his polearm. Fashion is the least of his concerns, though he will take care to be clean whenever possible and keep his clothes and tools in prestine condition (More so for the sake/memory of others than anything else).

𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄? He's a scared little bird. He'll run if startled and doesn't trust easily, but if you have earned his trust, he'll adore any kind of affection. He'll want to be touched and touch in turn (though he will need coaxing. He doesn't think he's allowed). Simple, casual touches like brushing shoulders when sitting beside one another are very meaningful to him. If the stars align and you've reached max friendship level, he'll be clingy! He wants to be held and hold loved ones. Even if he doesn't sleep, he'll want to lie pressed up against you just to feel your warmth. He sadly can't allow himself such comforts since his karma is harmful to most, but if that wasn't a concern? He'd be super affectionate and soak up love like a sponge.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍? On his back! If alone, he won't ever bear his back while asleep. He'd rather not sleep at all. ...If in the company of someone he trusts, he'll sleep in whatever position allowes him to be close. He'll sleep against the person's shoulder or - with loved ones - sleep while spooning them from behind. He loves being held and feeling small, but he'll usually prefer to be big spoon since it calms him to know he can 'shield' a person he loves.

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌? Absolutely not. You won't even hear him if he's right next to you. Even if you know he's there, you won't really know unless you see him or feel his energy/karma.

tagged by: @dhahabibi (ty!!)

tagging: @sagnaevi &. @iiryoku if you haven't done it yet and would like to!

#––– ❛ hazy recollections 【 headcanon. 】 #––– ❛ dancing in a field of flowers 【 dashgames. 】 #this was super fun!

[suginami-division]

Maki’s Thoughts on Ota Division

Chinami Chinen

“I think I’ve heard of her name… Wasn’t she a part of an old group? Charon, was it? I only vaguely recall it because of the significance the group’s disbandment several years back. If I remember correctly, a gossip magazines compared it to that of the Dirty Dawg disbanding.”

“Truth be told, there is very little I know about Chinami-san outside of that. I’m not a very superstitious person, but I do enjoy indulging myself on the subject every so often… Things such as the supernatural and belief related to it has done a lot to shape cultures, including Japan. I have no doubt that like Shuu with his work, Chinami-san gets an abundance of paranoid and anxious customers on the other side of her fortune-telling table. I only wonder how helpful her readings turn out to be.”

Kira Chinen

“I’m very familiar with Kira-san or… What I call her is simply ‘inspector’. Inspector here has stopped a few of the protests I have participated in the rare occasion I do go to them. It’s not often, but the times that the movement turns violent, I usually do my best to either quell the rage or escape. Of course by the time I do make attempts to flee the scene, pigs like Inspector Kira are waiting for me and I get caught…”

“It’s not like they can really hold me for long. Outside of using my words, they have little to no reason to keep me behind bars. Still, this is a very rare time where I get to talk about it. Next to no one knows about this side of my life… Not even Ryuko and he’s been put into jail for much worse...”

Taria Chinen

“Street performer… I feel as though we’ve been over the topic, no? Japan has a unique history with street performers and the like. Its just not too common to see them outside of a TV screen, unless you go to a popular tourist location. And admittedly, Ota isn’t a place I really frequent for work. There’s only four campuses there and they’re all for sciences which is definitely something I don’t teach. And… Well, I avoid the city for the most part. Going there isn’t good for my health…”

“Ah sorry. I was starting to ramble… Ahem, as for Taria? I have no clue what sort of performance she does. Perhaps my other teammates would be able to explain who she is better than I?”

Birds of Prey

“The name certainly strikes an impression among everyone doesn’t it? For a team who seem well mannered enough, it’s odd that they use such an ominous name. Perhaps it’s a warning to the other teams? Whatever the case, I look forward to seeing the Chinen family in future battles.”

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone oc #suginami division #sazanka zombeez #maki umemoto #ota division #chinami chinen #kira chinen #taria chinen #birds of prey

[sam-glade]

OCs as Animals Tag

Tagged by @autumnalwalker - their post is here. Thank you for giving me a chance to ramble about this! 💜

Leaving it as an open tag!

Rules: Choose any Oc/s and pick an animal that relates to them and why. You can also include images or drawings of your own but don't have to.

Welp. All of my characters have have a little familiar spirit that takes an animal form. This should be easy... Right?

Lissan - Sword Spirit: a She-Wolf

The Wolf has mostly negative connotations in Slavic folklore, often being associated with the devil, foretelling famine, etc, but in reality is such a lovely, fluffy animal. There's one local tale I've found in a collection of local legends and superstitions from 1881 and it stuck with me, even though I tend to avoid religious imagery. In summary, the Devil wanted to make a pet out of the wolf, and the wolf turned against them.

When the God created the wolf, it was dead. The Devil was very concerned by it and their inability to bring it back to life. The God told the Devil: go tell the wolf "get up, by God's power", but the Devil went and said to the wolf "get up, my my power", and the wolf didn't move. The God then suggested: tell the wolf "get up, by God's power, and rest the Devil", but the devil said "get up, by my power, and eat God", and the wolf didn't move. After a couple more attempts, embarrassed, the Devil whispered "get up, by God's power". The wolf jumped to its feet and lounged at the Devil. It chased the Devil to an alder tree, and bit into their leg, forever staining alder trees red with the Devil's blood.

Gullin - Sword Spirit: a Wren (or goldcrest)

Note: in European folklore these two birds are often used interchangeably.

The usual story goes: the birds held a contest to choose their new king. The eagle was the clear favourite and everyone assumed it would win, but the wren nestled in its feathers and hitched a ride on it, until it couldn't fly any higher. Then it jumped off and flew just enough to win. This sort of underhanded cunning approach is right up Gullin's alley.

Also, look at this little thing, it's less than 4in/10cm long:

Ianim - Sword Spirit: [redacted]

Sorry! It's a bit of a spoiler, and he isn't willing to talk about it even to his closest friends. However, he also has a cool horse, a grey stallion called Cloud, sired by his Grandfather's Sword Spirit. And while his own Sword isn't all that powerful, he excels at everything related to horse riding.

Notable mentions:

Varré's Spirit is never specified, because I'd love for it to be a fluffiest, angriest pillow a Pallas cat, but alas, it's not native to Europe.

General Anthea, the Chief Strategist and the First Prince, who has a Sword controlling ice and is sometimes nicknamed the Prince of Ice, has a snow leopard. But again, not native to Europe.

General Erya the Ermine, the Army's spymaster, is a feisty little ferret.

#tag game #writeblr tag game #days of dusk #OCs as animals tag

[quicksilverlightning]

I haven't shared anything on a while, so have some major spoilers in the form of Volo backstory:

It’s a new moon tonight. Once the fire has been doused, there is precious little light left to see by as Akari stumbles into the tent with a yawn and gets ready for bed. Volo is already on his bedroll, having turned in early for the night, but is not asleep; she has grown familiar with his rhythms over the months of travel together, and he has not yet sunken into the deeper breaths of true sleep yet.

She combs her hair free of any tangles and fluffs her pillow a bit, settling in under the single blanket comfortably.

“Night, Volo.”

He does not respond, and the silence feels heavy, fraught with an ambiguous significance like the build before a storm. Akari rolls to her side.

“Volo?”

—--------

Share your emotions with me, Wanderer. Tell me - what did you feel when your mother died?

Mespirit is not malicious, but the question cut him through all the same.

"My mother had an Alpha Togekiss,” he whispers to the waiting dark. “When I was small, she would allow me to ride on her back and fly about the meadows. That Togekiss was my only companion for many years after my mother died.” He hears Akari gasp sharply next to him.

“We lived in a fertile grove, abundant with berries and flowers. My mother used to feed the Starly every morning and they would flock to her feet. In the evening it was the Murkrow’s turn, and they would bring her gifts - little things, like beads or coins, pretty shards of glass and crystal.”

He can feel Akari listening intently, knows her eyes are locked on him even in the near-perfect black.

“We were collecting tumblestones near the Ancient Quarry - she was going to sell them later, in the village. The Pokemon there - they didn’t have the same understanding as the birds, but there was an informal agreement of sorts. We were allowed to enter their territory so long as we did not disturb their peace.”

“One of the Alphas in the area had evolved recently, into a Steelix. He didn’t usually bother us, but we still made an effort not to get in his way. I had never seen a Steelix before, and the steel type is so rare…” Volo trails off, lost in a memory he doesn’t care to remember. Akari gropes blindly for his hand in the dark, finding it with a squeeze.

“You - you don’t have to tell me,” she fumbles out. “I think I can guess how this ends.”

“She made Togekiss get me out of there,” he whispers. “And left herself unprotected.” Akari grips his hand tighter.

What did you feel when the Lorekeeper gave you away?

“Mistress Cogita was the only other Celestican I knew. Togekiss remembered the way, so we went there. And she did help us, but… I don’t know, a child just wasn’t part of her mission I suppose. We did small chores for her to earn our keep, and I was sent to the Ginkgo Guild as soon as I was old enough.”

“And how old was that?” Volo stares blindly into the cavernous space above.

“I was nine,” he whispers. Akari shuffles closer to him in the dark; he can just discern the shape of her shoulder.

“Nothing in Hisui comes free - that is doubly true in a guild full of merchants. Everyone keeps track of what is owed; food, lodging, lessons, medicine. Anything spent is another debt to be paid back. It’s easier for adults, but for children…” He swallows thickly.

“Well, children are effectively locked into indentured servitude; the things you need pile up too quickly, and there’s no way to settle up.” He doesn’t have to be able to see her face to know Akari is horrified; he can taste the bitterness on his own tongue.

What did you feel when the stranger fell from the sky?

“Togekiss laid an egg only a few months before she passed on; that egg became the Togepi you know. I carried her at all times for nearly a year before she hatched, only a few months before your arrival. And after that - I met you. And you know the story from there.

“Volo…”

He can hear the sorrow in her voice, that slightly wet quality that indicates she is on the verge of tears. 

“Didn’t - didn’t you have anybody?”

“I had Togekiss.” 

“You know what I mean,” he senses the movement of her arm nearby and imagines she is wiping her eyes. “Didn’t you have someone you could go to? Talk to? Anyone at all?”

“Who would you suggest?” He cannot purge the acidity from his tone entirely. “Ginter, to whom I am indebted? Cogita, who has been predominantly cold? No,” Volo removes his hand from hers. 

“I had no one. I had Togekiss and my memories and the only people who ever wanted me died violent deaths at the hands of a merciless universe.”

Akari lets out a pained cry and throws herself over his torso. The air is forcefully knocked out of him as she buries her face into his chest, clinging tightly to his loose nightshirt

“I want you. I want you to be in my life. I want to be a part of your life, for as long as you’ll allow me.” Her arms move to hug him close.

Volo feels rigid, locked up inside his own head, but gradually relaxes in her embrace. Akari is small next to him, but the months of work and travel have left her composed largely of muscle and she is a pleasant weight on his chest. 

"You're my best friend."

He shifts to accommodate her presence in his space, wrapping an arm around her back and placing his hand over the one on his chest, snugly cradling Akari as his lips press the crown of her head.

"And you are mine."

#pokemon legends arceus #legends arceus #volo #pokemon volo #akari #pokemon akari #fanfic #volokari #pokemon legends arceus spoilers

[paper--moons]

Regressor!Ayda Aguefort Headcanons

(with cg!Garthy O'Brien)

There are many constants in Ayda's regression—the fact that she regresses at all being the most prominent of them, the journals she does have from the past one hundred and twenty-five years indicating that there's only been one incarnation that didn't experience age regression (though who knows about the missing years from the journals that a former version of Ayda destroyed, but she is inclined to believe the data she does have is consistent). Other constants include that her regression is a largely involuntary ebb and flow response that can be attributed to her phoenix physiology, the fact that she loves being read to, and of course the ever-important food preferences. However, that doesn't mean it's always the same for her! One of the things that does vary depending on the incarnation is her age range, along with when the regression first manifests. As it stands, the current version of Ayda has been regressing for a couple of years and always to the approximate age of 6¾, thank you.

Regression isn't a facet of her personality that Ayda bothers hiding (not that she exactly bothers hiding any aspect of herself for that matter). It's just too ingrained in her, and most people are familiar with the idea that regression is a natural occurrence for a phoenix. And it would seem to be the case for a half phoenix as well. Which means it's imperative (in her opinion at least) that she have someone that she can trust to mind after her whenever she slips. Though finding such a person—someone that she trusts implicitly—was often difficult for her, until Garthy entered her life a few cycles back. They know a lot about the ins and outs of Ayda and as her guardian of sorts makes sure she has whatever it is she needs. Be it attention and care or something more material like toys or the soft heavy blankets she's so fond of. They consider that it's only fair to take care of her, given how she took them in and raised them—sort of returning the favor (though it is undeniable how deeply they care about her, even when they doubt that they are doing this whole parenting thing right).

Leviathan isn't always the safest city; it is a floating pirate city, after all. And that tumultuous safety can be even more dangerous for a kid. Although just because they are pirates doesn't mean they don't have a code of ethics! It's something of an unspoken rule that you leave the little phoenix alone as she makes her way from the Compass Points Library to the Gold Gardens, if not out of respect for her then out of fear of what Garthy might do to them should anyone try anything while she's vulnerable. It's already a rarity that she leave her library and so it usually draws attention when she does. And on the off chance someone does get a wild hair and want to satisfy what must be a death-wish, there are precautions in place—Garthy's influence has a wide reach, and they might have placed some of their associates strategically to keep regular tabs on Ayda's favored route through the city. She's not even aware of this extra protective streak of theirs, and instead believes that the city has some genuinely kind folks whenever they do have to step in to help her.

Knowing that Ayda worries about being a nuisance when it comes to showing up on their doorstep small and with her satchel full of storybooks, Garthy is sure to make it abundantly clear for her that this could never be the case. Are they scheduled to entertain a guest that evening? The guest will simply have to wait after receiving their most sincerest of apologies, because Ayda comes first as far as they're concerned. And so they take her to their room, where she can make a nest of blankets on their bed as Garthy reads out the titles from the selection of storybooks for the evening, stopping only when one earns an interested trill from their baby bird. It's always something multi-chaptered, and always with some element of mystery for Ayda to turn over in her mind as Garthy's voice soothes her often restless mind to a restful dozing state. She still asks them questions all the way down however, makes her guesses until her words turn into nothing more than half-formed, tired chirps. Once she reaches that state, Ayda can barely keep her eyes open long enough to catch Garthy's fond smile as they bookmark the page, blinking sleepily only to find that they are tucking her in.

Once she becomes friends with the Bad Kids (and declares herself as also being a "low quality child"), it doesn't take long at all for her regression to come to the surface during their hang-outs. Nobody really mentions it at first, wanting for her to take her time on telling them if she even decides to—after all, it isn't their place to demand an explanation from her, not that they would try to, and the behavior could just be a result of growing up in Leviathan so it's best not to assume—but they are sure to treat her just a bit more gently when this softer, impossibly curious side of her comes out. Answering all of her questions the best they can, finding that a lot of them aren't about the usual topics she's interested in but instead about why someone said or did something. And while all of them are pretty cool with her regression given that most of them fall into varying places on the agere spectrum within their little found family of sorts, it's Fig that really dotes on her. She loves Ayda so much and it's hard not to want to spoil her, although this manifests differently than how Garthy might dote on her. While they act more as a parental figure, Fig acts more as a big sibling. Always looking out for her in the way that a big kid would, always sweeping her up in their next big adventure, and always holding her hand so she knows they are doing things together.

Despite being open about her regression, Ayda has never had any playmates. Making friends isn't exactly her strong suit, so when the Bad Kids take her in as one of theirs? Even her smaller self? It does put a little stress on her. It's all so new, and that can be really scary even when she isn't small! She isn't sure what is or isn't allowed, what unspoken rules they may have that she isn't aware of. Should she expect the group dynamics to be different or the same? Is there some kind of schedule the others use for their regression that she should know about? Do they feel like she is being too much or too difficult, and should she tell them they can call Garthy if she is? While Fig is pretty good at easing that type of social anxiety for her most of the time, it still takes Ayda a minute to warm up to the idea of regressing around her friends without feeling any sort of guilt or anxiety over having messed things up afterwards. (Not that she could mess anything up just by being herself, Fig assures her. They all love Ayda for Ayda.)

Once Ayda does get more accustomed to regressing with the Bad Kids, she starts coming to Garthy with all sorts of new ideas. Excitedly chirping about something Adaine showed her how to do, or something that Riz taught her the last time they played. It's honestly adorable, and Garthy is not immune to Ayda being so adorable—which is probably why they come up with the suggestion that they plan a sleepover, where she can invite all of her little friends over to stay in the private chambers of the Gold Gardens that aren't open to the public, but only to those that they are close to. The idea is almost too much for Ayda, given that she never had sleepovers as a child. Though she spends enough time at Mordred Manor to consider it sleeping over, this is different. It's another new scary thing, but the idea that she can plan a fun time for them is rather stimulating and in fact is too tempting to resist. They help her make little invitations to hand out, and go over lists of things like snacks and activities with her until they come up with the most optimal schedule that Ayda thinks will be the most fun. Garthy loves to give her things, especially experiences that they know will make it into her journals—and the sleepover is definitely going in the journal.

#sfw agere #dimension 20 #dimension 20 agere #ayda aguefort #agere ayda aguefort #garthy o'brien #agere garthy o'brien #moons hcs

[katierosefun]

1/5 Just thinking about what kind of daemons the characters of BE would have? Like my first input for Dongsik would have been a fox (laughing but careful, independent but can be in groups?) but then again Dongsik's daemon would have settled before yu-yeon's disappearance (her daemon was definitely some kind of bird - a songbird or a painted snipe?) and I just think his would be a bird too (a jay?)

which would make everything even more hurtful in the long run because his daemon would fly away from him for days (and I just now remember that birds are meant to be witches' daemons - a bad omen, of course things would go awry with the Lee twins although her songbird was so sweet and well-mannered)

(the fact that Dongsik's jay has a distinctly male voice does not go unnoticed either) (years later there is the matter of Jae-yi's Maine Coon with her suave voice telling rude customers off) (would also love for Jae-yi to have a red-crowned crane? Actually?) Most of the Manyang crew have wolves daemons or animals that strive in mountain settings.

Jihoon's daemon barely changes even before he is settled, a quiet pup turning into a mixed breed. And then comes Han Juwon, who for the longest time was followed by a dog or a fox as he run in dark English corridors but whose daemon settles as a snow leopard

(of course dongsik's jay must come and settle on Juwon's daemon even as they are barely acquainted. Of course he would start pecking his head). Sorry for the rambling but your input is always really interesting?? So

aaah, anon, i actually adore this idea! i actually haven't been familiar with the concept of daemons before (but i think i get the gist of them after doing a few quick google searches). although also, i love the idea of dong sik and yu yeon having somewhat matching daemons: birds especially, with yu yeon's songbird to dong sik's blue jay. i did some more research, though, and in the process learned that witches can survive a long time without their daemon close by--and a part of my heart breaks at yu yeon's little songbird twittering up a scared storm right before The Thing Happens. (and dong sik not being able to find yu yeon's songbird, repeatedly telling himself that it's fine, the bird's just with yu yeon, keeping her safe when, in actuality, the songbird's long gone.) (no idea if that's accurate to the daemon canon--i'm not quite as familiar with his dark materials, even though i've been meaning to watch the series!)

i also love the idea of jae yi having a crane as her daemon: elegant, just like her. (also always keeping a watchful eye on everything that happens in manyang.)

as for the rest of the manyang crew having wolves or another mountain animals also makes me so happy, because i think they're mostly pack animals, right? and that sort of suits the entirety of manyang, in that whole "we piss each other off but as soon as we see a greater danger, we band together to shove the enemy out" mentality.

also, i personally love the idea of joo won's daemon shifting into a dog and then turning into some kind of big cat. (threatening at first glance, but turning out to be rather soft.)

dong sik's jay settling on joo won's leopard is also such a sweet image? i think joo won would probably get annoyed about it for a moment, because from what i've found on the internet, sometimes people's daemons interacting with each other can be considered a violation--or trust. i think dong sik would be a little bit miffed too, especially in the beginning, but i think the jay and snow leopard would get along oddly well (and it's only a matter of time before dong sik and joo won start doing the same).

also, because the birds can usually be a little ways from their human companions, i raise you "dong sik's blue jay won't stop pecking at joo won's window at like 2 am to be like go help your partner" and joo won very grouchily driving back to manyang (but also worried), only to find that dong sik's actually FineTM, his daemon's just playful and sly.

#answered #beyond evil #this is motivating me to actually watch his dark materials #(ann if you're reading this i swear i have no excuse now that it's summer)

[animeniac]

The Ballad of Bird and Bunny

Fandom: BNHA MHA

Pairing: Miruko x Hawks (BunnyBird)

Genre: Romance and Comedy

One Sentence Story Summary: An encounter between the prodigy Hawks and the rising star Miruko ignites of a spark of long forgotten past lives, but only one remembers.

Disclaimer: Soul mates. I don't usually do this sort of thing, but it seemed fun for this pairing.

A/N: It's mentioned in Rumi's profile that she likes design so I just kind of ran with that. The song featured is Promise (Get Down) by Kohmi Hirose. Look it up!

"The beginning of our love, this continuing dream. I'll surely spend it with you."

Rumi's brow furrowed in concentration as she hunched over her tablet, the bustling city of Musutafu just white noise around her. Her worn travel bag sat beside her. She sat focused on Procreate artwork - pursuing the pleasure of illustrative designs.

A shadow covered her, briefly disrupting the intense flow of her creation. Glancing up and behind her, she caught the sight of a golden haired man with messy eyebrows. Familiar enough, but who cared? 

The swagger of his steps echoed down the paths of her mind. 

"Hey, I just wanted to take the time to congratulate you on your well-deserved debut as a top hero," he said with a casual bow. "I have been following you for a few years now."

Oh, a fan. She'd have to get used to this.

Rumi's default response, a forced softening of her voice, kicked in. "Hey there, autograph?" 

Just like she practiced. 

"Miruko," he chuckled, a hint of exhaustion masking the amusement in his glistening eyes. "I'm Hawks.”

And? 

Not to be rude, but... 

Wait. 

Her brow furrowed. A burgeoning headache gnawed at her. She didn't keep up with the competition, focusing solely on her own relentless pursuit of battle. 

But. 

If she were being completely honest, then maybe something about him felt at least a little familiar. 

Then, it clicked. The jolt of realization popped through her head like a bullet. Her mind had cleared the headache. 

"Oh, right," she replied in a monotone, her gaze flickering back to her tablet. “Weren't you the one cozying up to Endeavor, right?"

He chuckled again, waving a dismissive hand. "Work stuff, y'know. But I still had an eye on you. Just hadn't mustered the courage to come say hi."

The audacity of his statement, laced with a subtle arrogance, sent a silent scoff through her. Didn't he realize he was coming across as condescending? Still, a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Does Birdie want some crackers with that cheese?" she quipped, her voice laced with amusement.

Hawks' laughter filled the air, a genuine sound that resonated deep within her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away.

"Birdie and Bunny - sounds like a good collab," he mused, a playful glint in his eyes. "Might have to tell my agent about it."

Rumi shook her head, a playful smile replacing the earlier smirk. "Me? Collab? You haven't heard of Miruko? It takes a life or death situation."

Hawks paused, his gaze locking with hers. "I have," he replied, his voice taking on a deeper, more serious tone. "But I think I can find a way to convince you."

Rumi felt an inexplicable urge to blurt out the question, "Have we met before?" It fit the flow. 

But. She bit her tongue. 

By that annoyingly cocky smirk on his face she'd think he was just another fan boy. 

"Maybe it's just my parasocial relationship with you," he continued, his smile turning sly. "Being a huge fan and all."

Her left eye twitched. Was mind reading part of this guy's quirk, or was she reading too much? 

“Uh, sure. I am the greatest,” smirked Rumi. “It was only a matter of time before everyone caught on.” 

Most men didn't dare approach her as boldly as this... hawk. He was probably looking to conquer her like a challenge or maybe he was just on the hunt for a good time. 

When the flustered waitress came by, Hawks waved and winked. “At least, somebody recognizes me,” he noted, making the girl swoon. 

“Hawks? You're the number two hero! Who wouldn't know you?” said the girl with hearts beating in her eyes. 

His eyes flitted to Rumi - knowingly, as if to say something. 

With a flicker of amusement, Rumi leaned back. This guy was a show within himself. But what was his modus operandi? 

Thumbing the menu, he looked down and pointed at a dish. “I'd like a cheeseburger with fries,” he requested before the waitress left. 

Rumi slapped the table a few times in a spirited fury. She clenched her jaw into a snarl. “Hey, what makes you think you're invited to sit here?” she barked. 

Hawks folded his arms behind his table and looked up at the ceiling. “What's wrong, madam Miruko? Is there an issue?” 

“You're breaking my concentration,” she said, hugging her tablet to her chest. Because she just knew he'd jump at the opportunity to see what she was working on. 

“I never would have thought that Miruko the Miraculous Rabbit Hero would be such a shrinking violet,” he mused, taunting her. 

Total misread. Complete misread. Her blood boiled, heat rising to her cheeks. “Hawk...” she growled. 

“Hawks,” he corrected with a smile. 

“I keep my circle tight,” she said. 

He quipped, “Tight?” His eyebrow raised subtly. 

“But if you wanna stay and eat in silence, then,” she said, pausing for a much needed breath. This was going to be a mistake. “You can stay. “

“Good,” said Hawks, leaning forward in his seat. “I know I seem like I'm coming onto you, but-” 

Rumi sharply interjected. “This is going to have to be a really good ‘but.’” She shifted forward in her seat. 

In a beat of silence, the music filled the air like liquid filling a cup. An old Japanese Pop song called Promises. 

His plastered smile faltered for a moment. “I'm just getting a feel for my fellow heroes. We're part of the same flock now,” explained Hawks. 

“Same flock, aye?” Rumi asked before slamming a hand on the table. “I've been in a league of my own before I even became official.”

Smiling, he sighed, “Former vigilante, right?”

No comment would be made on that for contractual reasons. 

In a beat of silence, the music filled the air like liquid filling a cup. An old Japanese Pop song called Promise.

“Besides, you can't deny the obvious. You're...” Rumi began before her heart throbbed. Her breathing became rapid, climbing at the rate of the song. 

Hawks studied Rumi's distress before reaching forward. “Hey, you okay there? Need a water?” he asked, offering her the ice cold glass on the table. 

Water. Yeah. 

Reaching forward, Rumi's hand grazed Hawks's hand. Their touch was accompanied by a symphony of memories and universes colliding like a big bang. Their eyes locked onto each other. Fragmented memories came crashing down onto her like sand in a sundial. 

This was unlike anything she'd felt before. This was...

Laughter. 

Love. 

Loss. 

All at the same time. 

Hawks's hooded gaze lingered on Rumi. They fixed onto each other, unable to tear apart. 

“Taka...” softly cried Rumi before the words jumbled in her mind. Her voice was soft and trembling - completely betraying her ferocious strength. 

What was happening to her? 

Hawks jumped up. He pulled her to him.

The heat of his body with the scent of his sweat all came crashing down on Rumi.

The world faded - dissipated into the blank space of eternity.

#bnha #my hero academia #bunnyhawks #miruko x hawks #bunnybird #fanfiction

[mementofloreo-archived]

"Things done while spooning" prompts || [HAIR] feat. Childe & Nettle, for @harbingertm!

Nettle wishes his pulse would stop racing and his breathing would hurry and even out. That his nerves weren’t always so jumpy and high when he finds himself treated affectionately. Tenderly. It’s unfamiliar, it’s new, but it’s not bad. He likes it, actually. A lot. But he’s always felt his emotions very strongly, so the wave of affection and just...feeling that he gets when he’s kissed or held, it’s overwhelming. He feels like he needs to move, to fidget and roll around, rub at his face with his hands to stop it itching from the flush.

He wants to turn over so he can curl up against Childe’s chest. Bury his face in their shirt. Match his breathing.

The sunlight is warm, but the shade from the tree they’re napping under and the breeze fluttering up from the lakeshore make things very comfortable. There’s plenty of noise from little birds and animals and bugs. Nettle can smell the lake, the summer wildflowers growing nearby, the cloth of his jacket beneath him, acting as a sort of bedroll.

Childe has one arm wrapped over Nettle around his waist, holding him close. The other he’s stuck under Nettle’s head so their bicep acts as a pillow. Their...dates have all been like this, on the lowkey side without much in the way of specific planning. They’ve been on three(four, maybe?) now and Nettle...well, he’s not sure what to call this.

He’s never been involved with anyone before. At what point is Childe more than just ‘this guy I’m kind of seeing’? When does he become a… Nettle wants to hit himself for how dizzy the mere thought of the word boyfriend makes him. He’s getting far too giddy over far too small a thing, surely. Swept up easily in the tide of Childe’s forwardness. All things considered they haven’t even known each other very long.

A lot about the man cuddling him right now is a complete mystery to Nettle. And he feels like it should bother him more. He knows Tartaglia is a Harbinger, capable of incredible violence and ferocity. Familiar with subterfuge and espionage. That so much of him remains completely obscured by fog and shadows should unsettle Ned. Right? Shouldn’t it? (But it doesn’t, somehow. Somehow, Tartaglia just makes him feel...safe. Wanted.)

There’s nearly a foot’s difference between them in height. Childe has a stronger frame and a much more athletic build than tiny, thin little Ned. So of course he feels very small right now. Intensely aware of it. But it’s not in some bad way. Actually there’s something a little exciting about the feeling. Like a tiny adrenaline rush(what is that about, he wonders). He feels small here, and safe here, and tense and thrilled and- well, anyway. It’s overwhelming, and it’s kept him from being able to actually sleep. So much for that afternoon nap.

There’s a shift. Ned jumps just a bit as Tartaglia moves, but all they do is reach the hand of their ‘pillow’ arm up and start playing with Ned’s hair. It’s wavy and soft and wispy, a springy, yellowy green. He almost always has tiny little flowers tucked into it, or cute hairclips.

“Soft,” Childe mumbles. He sounds sleepy. “You smell nice…”

Ned feels himself blushing to the tips of his ears. His heart continues to hammer for a few moments but Childe’s fingers carding through his hair have a strange soothing effect. Nettle can breathe easier, can pull his racing thoughts to a halt. “I smell the same as usual,” he offers quietly. He knows it. Scents of sweet cinnamon and spices from the soap he washes with. A little bit of leather from his boots, his rucksack, his vest. Coffee because he drinks so much of it, and sometimes a bit of menthol or camphor from his medical kit.

It’s his usual smell. He says so dismissively, but for someone to find him pleasant even at his most ordinary and mundane...there’s a lot of significance to that. Even at his most boring, most unremarkable point, he’s desirable to someone.

He doesn’t know nearly all of what he’d like to know about Childe. But he does know some things.

He knows how insufferable they can be. Knows that cocky little smirk of theirs, one that hardly ever leaves their face. How he’s a horrible tease who gets a huge sense of entertainment from making Nettle flustered.

And Nettle knows that they’re a good brother. That Childe loves his family deeply and wants to take care of them. Protect them. Despite everything, Harbinger seems to be not much more than a job title for them. For all that they love fighting and chaos, at the end of the day Childe still has a great capacity for kindness and care.

And maybe that’s why Nettle feels so safe right now. For all the parts that people would urge him to be cautious of, there’s plenty of things to counter and put worry to rest. He may never know all of what lurks in the dark regarding them. Right now he thinks he’s okay with that. He’s seen enough that is good to want to stay. For all that he’s insufferable, Childe is fun to be with, makes Nettle laugh.

Finally, Ned turns over after all. He scoots in and wraps his arms around Childe, burying his face against their shirt. He takes a long, deep breath and at last a feeling of drowsiness begins to set in. “I think,” he murmurs shyly, “that I like being held.”

#harbingertm #just cut for length bc it got a bit long #「He’s soft to the touch ║ But frayed at the ends‚ he breaks」[Nettle] #childexned tag tba