#so instead of yelling his full proper name

[moeblob]

Karen has four older brothers and this is Ross! He's the second oldest and he looks rather polite and smiles a lot and when he's at work he can behave most of the time... but he really has such a foul mouth it puts Right to shame.

And Karen when she was a kid couldn't pronounce S's and they sounded like Z's. So when her brothers would be leaving for school she would say "enjoy zool" and just. Could NEVER say Ross's name correctly so he told her to just call him Oz. And it stuck but only with Karen. She's the only one to use it and no one else is allowed.

[lheslie]

Mark Variants Vs Mirko Reader

"I live every day as if I'm not gonna see another one. That way, I'll have no regrets when I die." - Mirko from My hero academia.

- Main Mark

Other than his father, you were his favorite superhero. He loved your strong conviction.

He deeply admired your strength and skills, he loves your enthusiastic energy when fighting.

When you started to team up with him, he loved talking to you everyday asking for advices on how to become a better fighter.

Sparring with you is the best time for him as he kept seeing you smile as you fight with him, trying to keep up with him.

He loved your confidence being able to fight full on, even after being injured you're able to immediately stand right back up.

Handling multiple enemies, even you're alone.

You're not even afraid facing them head on, even if you know they're stronger than you.

"If there's a will, there's a way " You spoke as you found an enemy weakness, using it to your advantage.

As you were quite reckless, he's quite worried, you didn't even stayed a week inside the hospital, after regaining conscious, you sprung up back into action on the battlefield.

You were always in the frontlines, and he makes sure that he's always beside you to guard you against enemies behind your back.

He especially loves your supersuit, he sometimes gets distracted admiring it.

"Oi! Are you underestimating me? Fight with everything you've got!" You shouted gaining his full attention.

"S-sorry my bad." As he started to spar again with you.

- Omni Mark

He liked your enthusiasm and confidence, you know yourself very well, strength and limitations and yet, even though he already threw you to a building, normal heroes would be dead or knocked unconscious but instead you stood up again, ready for another round.

You adjusted your dislocated bones, relocating them to the right position,  stretching again.

"You fight well, yet you waste your time, saving people who isn't even greatful for what you do." He spoke, approaching you.

"I live every day as if I'm not gonna see another one. That way, I'll have no regrets when I die." You said licking blood fixing your hair, getting ready for another fight.

"Very well, then I'll give you a proper fight to the death." He stated.

- Target Mark

"IS THERE NO ONE WORTHY HERE?" He screamed as he kept killing heroes.

"Then fight someone who is." You spoke as you surprised him with a kick from the back hitting his back bone.

He immediately fell vomitting blood on the ground.

He stood up to take revenge, but you kept kicking him down making sure he doesn't get anytime to stand up.

"Go to sleep." You said, trying to kick his temple, but he caught your ankle, throwing you to the wall.

He got back up flying, looks on your direction to punch you again, but you were able to regain your senses and avoiding his punch, standing up.

"Where have you been all this time?" He questioned you.

"Beating your other variant's asses, you should say hi to them in death." throwing another punch at him.

"Those were entirely weaker versions of me, they don't deserve to be called by the same name as me." He snorted

"Well either way you're dead, so stop talking." You yelled.

- Viltrum Mark

"I can see you've come back for more." He monotonously spoke as he looked at you with your newly ampuated body parts.

"You thought by taking off my limbs would stop me right there? You have to kill me before you actually defeat me." You declared, flipping him off.

Viltrum Mark clenched his teeth in anger as he replied. "Very well then, you shall die."

"I ain't that weak." You huffed.

"GET DOWN FROM THERE AND GIVE ME A FAIR FIGHT THEN." You yelled, at him.

- Shiesty Mark

"Fuck, this is no fun. Everyone's so weak." He complained, as you took out a street light that collapsed on the ground hitting him with it.

"Well here's fun! How about you go and die!" You smiled.

He flew off but quickly gained momentum.

"Ugh, fuck. I'm gonna make sure you don't have an easy death." He spoke angrily.

"Hmph, and who said I'm dying?" You kicked him with your luna fall, making him fall to the ground.

"You think that's enough to defeat me? Motherfucker!" He cursed at you.

"Well there's more where that came from, just wait you evil fiend." You laughed, lunging at him.

- Sinister Mark

"You put up a fight." He said as he was floating above you, as you stood up again, wiping blood from your face.

"You underestimate me, I haven't shown you everything I've got." You laughed as you run at him, trying to kick him again with your full power, but he caught your leg.

"You've got strong legs, I wonder how you'll react when I slowly crush your bones." He said smiling with bloodlust, he started to slowly strengthen his grip on your leg, trying to crack your bone.

Instead of wincing in pain your smile still preservered, and kicking him with your other leg.

You jumped with one of your healthly leg, retreating to the shadows, putting a bandage on it.

"Look's like bunbun got scared." He chuckled trying to find you under the rubbles.

"Come out little bunny." He slowly meancingly chuckled.

After stopping the blood gushing out of your leg, you tied the bandage tightly.

You went out again to kick him down.

"I thought you've ran away, I would've been really disappointed." He stated punching you to the wall.

"And make you happy? Never." You stated as you punched him to the other pavement.

- Prisoner Mark

"Give up, you have no chance against me, I've killed thousands, just submit." He said as you stood up again.

"Hahaha! Never." You said standing up again, licking the blood off your lips.

"Then you shall meet your fate." He said punching your guts, making you fly again to the wall again.

You slowly stood up again, for another fight.

"You're not giving up are you?" He muttered.

- Mohawk Mark

Mohawk Mark chuckles to himself proud causing havoc.

"Halt, Evil Mark!." You shouted gaining his attention.

He looked around trying to find where that sound might be, while you took the opportunity to kick him in the face.

He fell down, from the sky.

"How did you jump that high." He laughs amused as blood oozes out of his face, he wiped it off.

He started to fly again and rushed at you, jumping again you kicked him in the face again, making him fall back into the ground.

He stood up again, breathing heavily but still smiling.

"You have really strong legs right there, I wonder how you'll react when I slowly break them." He looked at you smiling agressively.

"Let's see if you can." You smiled challange him.

- No goggles Mark

"Oooh! I never fought you in my dimension." He spoke as you repeatedly hit him, not giving him any time to finish his speech.

"Wow, that's so cool." He kept smiling at the sensations of your kicks, he grabbed your ankle trying to slam you down.

"Well there's more where that came from!!" You yelled kicking him with your other foot, freeing yourself from his grasp.

"You're my favorite." He smiles.

"Hah! You haven't had enough of me yet." You smiled charging at him.

"Bring it on!!" He yelled charging to you as well.

You both started exchanging blows, equal blows to each others.

"Are you single? Will you marry me?" He asks you out of nowhere.

"Not interested in a mass murderer." You replied throwing another blow through his liver, causing major pain.

He collapsed, as he grabbed on his aching liver.

"Oh, I just love you." he declared as he passes out.

"Who doesn't love me?" You left out a chuckle.

[haikyu-mp4]

Catching feelings, part 2

word count; 761 – f!reader, read part 1 first for the best experience

The game was amazing, you had no idea volleyball could be this exhilarating! You had cheered your heart out, and even though you didn’t know many proper volleyball terms, you quickly caught onto the nice receive!!

As you descended the stairs once the game finished, you looked around for the sign that led towards where Sakusa said he would meet you. There was a slight skip in your step as you were still so pumped up from the game, excusing yourself from anyone you had to push past.

“Sakusa!” you called out when you finally emerged from the crowd, spotting him in a far corner at the end of a less crowded hallway. “You were amazing!”

You were greeted with the familiar blush on his cheeks as he huffed stubbornly. He hadn’t put on a mask after the game, probably coming right over to meet you, so you took a moment to appreciate his full face in real life instead of on the metro ad. “Thank you.”

It looked like he was about to say something else, presumably letting you know he just needed to shower and would meet you outside, but his shoulders shot straight up at the sound of an agitating voice. “Oh my gosh, it’s Sakusa’s girlfriend!” Hinata yelled, before speeding over to greet you. You pulled the mask up on your cheeks but smiled at his excitement.

“She’s not-” but Sakusa’s low voice didn’t stand a chance against Hinata’s selective hearing. He was just thankful Bokuto and Atsumu were already headed to the showers.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” he said, jumping up and down like a star. “You’re really pretty! Did you like the game? Did you see my last spike? I didn’t even think I could pull that off, honestly. It just went woosh and I had to do a wham, didn’t think it would go in at all!”

Sakusa blinked in disbelief, wondering what he could have done to deserve this intrusion, but then his eyes shifted to you and how your eyes crinkled with mirth as you nodded along to everything. One might say it made him feel… warm.

“I did see that, you played so well!” you said, clapping your hands a little to emphasise. Then you held your hand beside your mouth as if to hide your next words from Sakusa, even though you said it loud enough for him to hear. “I was mostly looking at this one though,” you half-whispered, nodding your head towards Sakusa.

Hinata giggled, patting Sakusa’s arm harshly, which made him coil away and accidentally bump into you instead. At this point, he could have qualified for a fever with how his cheeks burned. “That’s enough of you two, you-” Sakusa pointed at Hinata, then over his shoulder. “Go clean up. You-” He turned to face you, but his face was slightly tilted downwards to hide behind his curls. “Please wait for me here, and if you see someone else from my team, do not engage.”

You held your hand up like a soldier to salute him, making him shake his head and walk away so you couldn’t see the fond look on his face. I thought the black jackals would be the death of me, but she might get to it first.

When Sakusa came back out, surprisingly fast, you tried to focus on what he said even though he smelled so nice. “Huh?”

“Should we go? There’s a nice restaurant close by,” he said, to which you nodded.

The two of you walked side by side outside into the fresh air. You kept glancing sideways at him and he would do the same, so when your eyes accidentally met, you’d quickly look back to the front. “That orange-haired guy was nice,” you said. “What’s his name?”

“Hinata,” he said sharply, wondering if you would mention the rest of that incident. “Sorry about him.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, walking a bit closer to him. “He said I was pretty,” you cooed in a childish tone.

“You are pretty,” Sakusa said, and you almost tripped over a tiny gravel rock from the surprise.

You eyed the side of his face, seeing how his ears lit up in red. “He said I was your girlfriend,” you continued with a leading tone, then chuckled when he huffed, which was a short laughter by his standards.

He glanced down at your hand, wondering if he should hold it but deciding against it for now, settling with giving you a little smile instead. “We’ll see about that.”

masterlist

//wanna thank @cottonlemonade for inspiring me to write a part 2 and thinking up Hinata's rant<3

[itsjusbleh]

Beneath the surface

Chat Noir x reader

Chapter one — Acrophobia

Moving to Paris is a fresh, fresh beginning for you. Maybe it was a too big of a leap, but you’re excited, and you’re young, so why not? Though you can’t ignore the tender ache in your stomach. Gotta love anxiety.

It’s only when you step through the inside doors that you realise you have left your damn water bottle behind at your apartment. But then the bell rings, and immediately there’s a hundred footsteps, talking and yelling and someone actually barges into you. You can’t tell who it was anyway because they get lost in the sea of moving people. Scrambling for your campus map, you try and find your class. B5?

Finally finding the room, you open the door with an exasperated energy. But upon seeing the space, you realise that the class is not cinematography. At all.

A naked muscular man sits in the front of the room, posing on a stool as the student artists paint a portrait. Your eyes spring open and you can feel people start to look at you. You go to leave, stepping backwards. “Shit— sorry! I’m in the wrong class—“

You bump into a table filled with clay figures, fumbling a bunch of apologies as you knock one over and it smashes on the ground. What’s even worse is that people begin laughing as your skin flushes warm. You fall to the ground and scramble at the broken pieces.

”Hey—“

At the sudden close proximity of a voice, your head snaps up. A clean hit to the owner of the voice’s nose. A groan comes from above you as you whip your attention to the person.

His hand clutches at his face as you blabber, “I am so so sorry, oh my god…”

”It’s okay, it’s okay,” he pinches his nose, eyes squinted. “You dropped this,” he extends your book towards you with his free hand.

You tuck your hair out of your face and when you get a proper look at him, you swallow dryly. It’s when his green eyes finally meet yours, and you take your book with quick fingers.

He offers you a little smile, but it falters when he looks to the smashed pot on the ground.

You tuck your book tightly into your chest. “Was that yours?” You ask softly, face contorted in shame.

“Yes,” he slowly says, lolling those green eyes back to yours, and you catch the smallest twitch of them widening. “It’s… fine, though.”

Oddly enough, there’s a second of silence before the professor echoes a loud ‘ahem’. You scramble out of the class, offering another clumsy sorry as you leave, unknowingly having the same pair of green eyes following you as you do.

Once you’re finally in cinematography, a nice girl with tan skin and dark red hair chats to you as she polishes her glasses. She says her name’s Alya and it’s hard because you’re trying to listen to the teacher, especially because he was a bit annoyed at your lateness but she’s blabbering in your ear. You don’t have the heart to try and tell her to stop especially because you’re new and well, alone. You need to make friends.

”I was supposed to be taking audio and film instead of this class, but apparently, this branches more opportunity,” she uses quote fingers, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, I can thank my boyfriend for that—“

She gets hushed by the teacher, but after five seconds she slowly turns her head back to you, as if expecting you to start talking.

“I’m taking a performing arts bachelor,” you whisper. “I’d like to be an actress… or something like that.”

“Oooh nice,” Alya wiggles her words, once again getting hushed by the teacher.

After two full, long classes, you head out into the main courtyard like most of the students at the university. Some are on phones, some are in animated conversation. You see an oak tree at the far end of the courtyard, with a wide trunk and plenty of shade. You can’t see anyone nearby, so you make your way over, and you plan to sit on the grass against the tree when you feel someone clutch your shoulder.

”Girl, where do you think you’re going?” Ayla’s voice seeps into your ears, her glossed lips stretched in a smile. You open your mouth to reply but she beats you to it, pulling your shoulder to walk with her. “Come meet my best frieeend, oh my god, you’ll love Marinette, she’s amazing.”

You follow her with a nod, a pleasant wave of relief actually washing through you. She pulls you to a table under a tree’s shade. Marinette has black hair with a tinge of blue hue that just curls around the mid of her neck, kind blue eyes and you can just tell she’s a warm soul. She waves, offering a hello.

She tells you she’s studying in fashion design, and as you tell her your bachelor, she coos. “Performing arts? Are you looking to book any roles in Paris? We have some opportunities here, theatre wise— oh, and advertisements, films…”

“I would love that, I just… need to see if I’m actress material, I guess. I know how difficult it is to get into the acting industry, and I’m taking some extra classes with a studio every week, so…”

”Hey, I know a guy that can hook you up with some opportunities,” Alya grins, nudging Marinette with a smug look. “Adrien Agreste,” she lets the name roll of her tongue, smooth and knowing.

Marinette rolls her eyes at Alya, but she turns to you with a hopeful smile. “Actually, that is true. He’s done plenty of things like that.”

As they say this, you wonder who this said guy is. It’s obvious that they know him well, which is good in your case. You pick up a french fry and dip it in ketchup.

“Who’s that?” You munch on the fry, voice muffled a little by it.

”Uhh… oh, he’s over there,” Alya points behind you. You turn and see where she’s pointing, to a group of people standing around. “The one in the navy pullover.”

The one in the navy pullover. You look for the clothing, and once found, you rake your eyes up to the face to match. You almost choke on your french fry, a strangled sound coming from your throat as Alya pats your back immediately. That’s insane because that’s the guy that you socked in the nose. Not to mention, you broke his clay piece.

Shit. Yeah, that’s him. What a small world. You turn around slowly back to the girls, shrinking in on yourself.

“What?” Both girls say in tune, confused at your expression.

“This morning I mixed up my classes and I bumped into him and I smashed his clay piece,” you clutch at your forehead, embarrassed. They both ease into a laugh. Your mind reels at just the thought of the humiliating situation. They attempt to reassure you, and you smile at their pure friendliness, but it drowns out a little as you take another peak at him.

To your utter shock, you catch his gaze. He seems surprised too because his expression sets into a stunned one. He quickly adverts his eyes, regaining his attention on a friend. You screw your lips up, a tinge of confusion bubbling in your chest.

Your first day wasn’t unbearable, but it wasn’t a piece of cake either. The first bite into your freshly baked croissant has you drooling. The buttery, flaky layers of the pastry melt in your mouth, releasing a rich, buttery flavor that dances on your tongue. It’s a nice breeze through Paris, seeping against your cheeks and you’re thankful for the spare time you have.

Suddenly the ground shakes, and the salts and peppers on your cafe table fall to the ground with an eery smash. An earthquake? You never knew they were prone in Paris. But then you hear a maniacal laugh echo throughout the street. The rustle of chairs moving and shoes squeaking fills your ears, and looking around you see that people are running into hiding.

What is going on?

A fast blur of red and black whips past, a powerful feminine voice yelling something out. You’re frozen in your chair, croissant now splattered along the pavement. You tilt to look at your treat now gone, a wave of grief rocking you.

Another suited figure runs by you. He wears a black suit, golden blond hair and shifting cat ears. He tosses a shout, “You should be inside! It’s too danger—rooooouuussss…” his head turns as he looks at you, sharp, emerald eyes giving you a one-down as his run slows to a stop, “hello.”

You look around quickly, seeing if he’s talking to anyone else but there’s no one else. Anywhere. “Hi,” you say, a tone of a question as you feel a shudder slip down your back at the way his eyes gobble you up. There’s a sinister swing of his hips as he walks toward you, a challenging stare that you can’t replicate.

“Ma chérie, you can’t be out here,” he tsks. With him this close, you can really look at him. His soft blond hair running wild at his neck, defined muscles cut against leather, the little dimple in his cheek from his wicked grin. What a being. “There’s a possibility you can get caught in the crossfire, and I would hate to see this pretty face get hurt.”

You nod gently, spacing out a little.

A truck gets thrown across the street in the background. His flirty demeanour flattens as he blinks, his whacky grin slipping. “Are you in shock?”

You shrug. You hear him mumble something under his breath, maybe along the lines of ‘shit’ and ‘poor thing’ but you can’t really tell from the loud crashing and banging noises going on around you. He taps his foot a little, cat ears flicking like he’s thinking.

“Chat Noir!” The same female voice from before snaps, and you watch the way his ears flatten, an exasperated groan escaping his lips.

”I’ll come back for you, ma chérie, just—“

Another loud shout, and he suddenly clutches you by the arm.

“Be a good girl and go into the cafe, come on,” his voice is tender and guiding, leading you through the cafe doors and practically carrying you there. “There we are, that’s it, puurfect.”

The way he mutters that last word against your ear makes you shiver, and all you can do is nod to him and his words. He sits you down on one of the couches, giving your arm one last graze before zooming out into the Parisian streets. You aren’t in shock. Are you? You’re just confused. As fuck.

You don’t know how long it’s been until there’s a flash of pinkish white that blinds you and you cover your face with an arm. Blinking away the shine, there’s an evident clearing of the sky, and herds of civilians creep out from their hidings. You decide to stay in the cafe for a while, grabbing for your phone as something comes up on your web, Ladyblog News.

Superheroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir. How have you never ever heard of this? You feel stupid, ridiculously stupid. Making your way out of the cafe and heading to your apartment, you duck into an alleyway shortcut.

”Why such a rush? I said I’d come back for you.”

The sudden noise makes you swish around, coming into contact with a leathered arm. Thick, leathered arm. The feline heroine has that arm leaned against the alleyway’s brick wall, looking you down like a predator. This guy is big on dramatic effect.

“I’ve just moved to Paris, and this… this is all very new to me,” you explain, wondering why it was difficult to keep eye contact.

“Oh, chèrie, I know…” he draws out, letting his eyes roll down your figure. “I might need to go home with you.”

His words send your mind in a frenzy, it makes your throat grow tingly. “Why?”

”For safety measures, of course. Why else?” He tilts his head at you as if it were obvious, the bell on his suit dinging lightly. That implication was prominent and you knew it, he was sly. “Your legs feel okay?”

”They feel fine,” you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek. You have to admit, they’re a bit jittery from before. You duck out from the alleyway and he follows.

“Mmm, I’m not sure I believe that,” he reaches behind himself to grab something, and when it comes into view it looks like a metal bar. He slides an arm around your waist. “You afraid of heights?”

You raise an eyebrow at his question, confusion once again filling you as he grabs your arm to wrap it around his neck. “…No.”

There’s a glint of a grin on his devilish lips. “And which one’s your building?”

You point in the direction to the blue apartment building in the distance. “That one,” you respond.

Without warning, you’re lifted up into the air. You screech, arms flying out and attaching to him magnetically. You can hear a low chuckle from him as your heart pounds against your ribcage. You don’t dare to peek out from his chest, eyes sealed shut as wind snips through the gaps of your hair.

“Which one?” Chat Noir asks, giving you a little nudge.

”Seventh floor, farthest left,” you rush, gripping him as if your life depended on it. There’s a thud and a commotion, and when he gently sets you down, it takes you a second to detach from him.

You immediately go to land a solid punch into his shoulder, a hiss like noise screeching out of him.

“Heeeey…” he pouts, to which you jab a finger at his chest.

“You should’ve warned me!” You scold harshly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His tongue runs along his smirking bottom lip, a glimpse of his white canines catching your eye. You only groan frustratedly, folding your arms. “Your balcony has a beautiful view,” Chat Noir praises.

You sigh. “I know, you can see the Eiffel from here and I didn’t even pay extra—“

”I wasn’t talking about the landscape,” he mutters. You turn to see his sneaky green eyes locked on you, seemingly proud at his flirtatious quip. Your arms tense in your hold, unable to play it cool as you let a smile creep onto your face. You hear a quiet beeping sound and you catch the way his eyebrows stitch down as he looks at his ring finger.

“What’s wrong?” You utter, unfolding your arms.

“I have to leave,” Chat Noir grunts, annoyance twinged in his voice. He takes your hand in his, giving it a swift kiss in apology. “Selfishly, I beg of you to go into shock more.”

You actually giggle at his silly statement, going to take your hand back but his grip doesn’t falter. His slimmed, feline pupils dilate with your sound.

“What’s your name?” He asks gently, smoothing his gloved thumb over your knuckle. You say it without a thought, quiet enough that it could be mistaken for another gust of Paris’s wind. He leans back towards the bars of your balcony with a smirk, and with one last look that he steals, he jumps off your balcony.

[bones4thecats]

can I request Malleus Draconia with part dragon! Reader who likes to sleep and rest a lot with him (very greedy and unpolite but very quiet and intimidating some times.) From 🍦-anon , please

You can ignore this if ur too busy , or just do it late ,I don't mind waiting

➸ Dragon-Love; Malleus × Dragon! S/O

Characters: Malleus Draconia A/N: Reader's Dragon-Form inspired by Glory from Wings of Fire! Fanart by DinkysaurusART on X. Reader's Dress and Crown here. ➥ Summary: Many expect the royal couple to be one of the most proper duos in the world. But, what they didn't know, is that deep inside, behind your high-ranks, was a love that could only be described as adorable.

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Malleus Draconia ═════════════════════════╝

🐉 The land was silent. The sun had fallen down from the sky and allowed the moon its chance to emerge and finally create the light its opposite did for 12 hours of the day

🐉 While the sidewalks of Briar Valley were empty and vacant of any sound, minus the occasional chirp of the cricket, the castle still rustled. The royal knights switched their shifts, the night-crew coming in as the day-crew left for their homes to rest from the busy day

🐉 And as that happened. The King and Queen of Briar Valley smiled, they had snuck out like they did almost every night since they were teenagers. The cool breeze brushed past them as they walked together, laughing as they did so

🐉 They may have been older than 178 by then, but that didn't mean they had no sense of child-like inside of them still

🐉 Malleus smiled as he landed on the ground, he held his hand up to allow you to come down the rocks carefully. After all, you were still in your dress you would wear around the castle. The long ends hit the ground with a light poof while you kept up with your husband

🐉 Once you guys reached the edge of a cliff, you could look over everything. You could see your kingdom and your home right beneath you. It was all so... mesmerizing

🐉 The King of Briar Valley looked over at you. Your eyes twinkled in the night, reflecting not only the stars and moon's light, but the wonder and amazement that your continued to have years and years beyond your time at Night Raven College

🐉 He sat down on the edge, his legs dangling over the rocks and motioned for you to join him. You happily sat down next to him. But, after a while of staring at the view, you grew bored. This was far from unnatural. You craved adventure your whole life, and bringing your one and only into it made it better to savor

🐉 Glancing from below and back up to Malleus, your shifted to stand again. Malleus looked up in confusion at you. He was wondering what you were doing

"What are you doing, love?" He asked.

"Just getting a better look." You smiled.

"We've been sitting here for nearly 10 minutes and you want a better view now? What are you planning, dearest?" He teased.

🐉 Looking back at your husband, you began to lean backwards, causing yourself to fall down the mountain and towards the ground. Malleus jumped up and yelled your name in fear. But, instead of lunging after you, he was stuck in shock

🐉 All of a sudden, a large dragon flew up past him and into the sky. Smiling and groaning, Malleus did the same as you, bounding into the sky at full-speed. His large-black form flying alongside yours as you messed around

🐉 Lilia looked up from his bed and out of the window posted next to said furniture. He noticed two dragons flapping around, as if they were two dogs playing around. He smirked and chuckled at the actions of the two beings

🐉 Before he knew it, the two had laid down, cuddling. Their heads placed next to one another's as the larger one, Malleus', wing laid on top of the smaller one's, your, form

"Young love? More like Dragon-Love."

[yayasvalveplay]

https://www.tumblr.com/yayasvalveplay/772324490186211328/the-miners-in-transformers-one-probably-arent?source=share

Because I'm still thinking of this ask and your response, I bet in this scenario that while Orion started their frag-a-thon, Dee was very, very enthusiastic about continuing it. And not just because it felt so good! While they're doing their "bonding exercise" (oof and that's making me think of all the cute words they'd use in place for valve/spike/whatever because they don't have the proper words 🥴) Orion isn't running off to get in trouble. Elita probably tells Dee that whatever's going on with Orion to keep it going. There hasn't been even a peep of complaint about him in ages.

Lmao you are so right. Them constantly fragging is what's keeping Orion out of trouble. he stops sneaking out, and going on wild adventures to try and get something Megatronus related for Dee.

Dee is so happy that Orion learned about this. they are both happy. Elita is happy that they arn't down one bot for multiple days because Orion has to be in the medbay. She almost asks what Dee did to make Orion like this, but gets interrupted by someone asking for help with a large deposit. Elita ask Dee to take care of it.

And it's never brought up again until she wakes up to some form of noise. and in the darkness Orion is seen picking up a mini yellow bot who tripped. and they look over. she sees the fear in his eyes. She doesn't yell at them, she helps Bee up, and goes to grab Dee who's having a hard time sleeping since Orion was pronounced dead due to the mine accident that took Jazz's leg.

The moment they are reunited, and on that train out of Iacon, they are fragging in the back, Dee rubbing Orions baby bump, it has been too long. (literally a full 24 hours since they last fucked.) But you know Sire coding is screaming at him, without him knowing exactly what is screaming at him, all he knows is that Orion needs to fill him up, his spike needs draining, it's been producing a tone more transfluid since the bump started showing.

Ohh what would they call it instead. Id think they'd know what they are called since there is no way Megatronus and or Prima wouldn't of had said some kinky shit in that frag tape. but them still not calling those parts by their real name because it's embarrassing, and Darkwing could find if the other miners overheard and started asking questions.

Possibly. Spike: stick. Valve: in me, inside. Wet place.

[chaifootsteps]

Just because I'm tired of seeing it and for anyone who needs a 'tap the sign', here's my best list of what both Stolas and Blitzo apparently both did wrong here. I'm adding some points here that are the fandom's framing more than mine so I'm going to pick those apart below

Blitzo:

stole from Stolas as a child because his father asked him to

called Stolas' interests boring (because he'd been sold to be his playmate)

stole Stolas' book

slept with Stolas to get the book (then never did so freely again)

asked Stolas on a date to Ozzie's to spy on M&M

ignored him while on the date at first

didn't believe Stolas had pure intentions when he invited him in after Ozzie's

didn't tell Stolas that Striker tried to kill him (s1e5)

didn't come rescue Stolas in person in Western Energy

didn't visit him in the hospital

didn't believe Stolas sincerely loved him during his confession

tried to go back to a sexual relationship despite Stolas' discomfort

treats Stolas like a prince who looks down on him and refused to see otherwise

yelled and snapped at him during their talk in full moon

yelled and snapped at him during their talk in apology tour

Stolas:

locked Blitzo in his room at his party and assumed he was here to 'ravish him' (s1e1)

Blitzo tells him to knock it off with the dirty talk (s2e1). Stolas doesn't stop (s1e1).

let Blitzo use the book with no strings attached before calling to change up the terms

changed the terms when Blitzo was in danger and couldn't give informed consent

proposed a deal that was inherently coercive even without Blitzo being in danger since he has to have sex with Stolas to keep his business running (s1e1). This is rape IRL and since Verosika said very clearly that 'we're in Hell' isn't an excuse...

called up Blitzo to be a bodyguard that he didn't actually need in Loo Loo Land. He knows Blitzo needs money so leverages that to get Blitzo to spend time with him

Blitzo tells him to stop flirting with him and he's only here to work as a bodyguard, as agreed, and protests Stolas flirting with him multiple times. Stolas doesn't stop. (s1e2)

Shows no respect or gratitude to Blitzo's colleagues for saving his life. Doesn't even call them by name (s1e2)

Puts a cigarette out on Blitzo's horn (s1e5)

Yanks his face multiple times (s1e5, s1e7) and calls him 'little' or 'itty bitty' on different occasions

Demeans Blitzo by calling him 'sexy little one' in front of a whole crowd and persistently refuses to call Blitzo by his proper name, including spoiling Blitzo's moment by doing so as he ties Striker for winner of the tournament (s1e5). His behavior is bad enough Blitzo is happy to skip out on the full moon ceremony itself due to how thirsty he's being

Outright calls him a little plaything (s1e6)

Asks for sexual favors as a thanks for saving his life (s1e6) - he doesn't specify this but he says 'very much so' to the idea instead of showing any offense that Blitzo thinks Stolas wants him to pay for his life with sex

Tries to ditch the table when called out in Ozzie's, hides his face in a menu (s1e7)

It doesn't occur to him the full moon deal is wrong until Ozzie's and that's seemingly partly as a response to Blitzo not wanting to date him

Seemingly still doesn't understand that they are not in an actual relationship despite what Blitzo said as Ozzie's and him outright saying asking Stolas to the club was a mistake (s1e7)

His song in The Circus frames himself as the victim of Blitzo - what's between them is a 'comfortable lie' and he says 'I'm the fool who believes when you look in my eyes' (s2e1)

Despite knowing unequivocally that Blitzo hates being treated like a sex object, Stolas responds to Blitzo's anxiety about performing by sexualizing him some more (s2e2)

Gets mad at Blitzo to the point of his employees hiding behind him even though it's his fault his daughter ran off (s2e2)

Still doesn't acknowledge any of Blitzo's colleagues by name even though everyone is helping him find Via (s2e2)

Calls Blitzo up to get him out of a situation he should have been able to handle himself, does nothing to communicate where he is and is weirdly blase instead of urgent on the phone (s2e4)

Admits that the deal was wrong but in a general 'transactional relationships bad' sense, no acknowledgement of the gravity of having coerced Blitzo into sex despite recognizing at the start of the episode that he is a monster if Blitzo was only with him as a prisoner of the deal (s2e8)

Makes Blitzo panic by taking back the book forever and doesn't even notice or care that Blitzo is begging him in tears and saying he'll do anything (s2e8)

Immediately shuts down the conversation and walks off instead of giving Blitzo a minute to process (s2e8)

Rewrites reality, has the gall to be shocked Blitzo thinks it's all about sex when he made it that way (s2e8)

Rewrites reality, acts like he had no idea Blitzo didn't think highly of him despite being told so before (s1e8, s2e8)

Uses magic to throw Blitzo out of his house (s2e8)

Makes no attempt to talk things out, just gives Blitzo the cold shoulder instead of asking for space, clearly thinks he is in the right just because Blitzo yelled at him, has done no reflection on anything Blitzo said (s2e9)

Rewrites reality, keeps insisting he's never looked down on Blitzo despite the fact that even the most insensitive person in the world should realize being called a 'plaything' is not a compliment (s2e9) and it takes a truly special sort of ignorance to squeeze his own imp butler like a stress ball and not think he has any superiority over imps (s2e2)

Blames Blitzo for not saving him in person even though Blitzo sent his employees to help and he knew full well Blitzo was taking his daughter to the doctor (s2e4, s2e9)

Focuses solely on Blitzo not telling him Striker tried to kill him and doesn't acknowledge that Blitzo saved his life in Harvest Moon (s1e5, s2e9)

Calls Striker Blitzo's 'friend'? If he really believes this it just seems to be the old classism/racism rearing its head again, if he doesn't then it's obviously just more petty o'clock on his part, especially since IMP has kept having to fight Striker, sometimes on Stolas' behalf

Rewrites reality, appears to think of himself as one of Blitzo's exes since he doesn't think his getting an invite to Verosika's party was weird, all around behaves like a jilted ex. Seemingly if it feels true then it must be true (s2e9)

Goes to the party despite calling it petty and despite the risk of Blitzo finding him at the party, since he somehow knew Blitzo was actually doing the whole apology tour thing across Hell (s2e9)

Calls Blitzo a motherfucker even when he admits in song that the arrangement was just an arrangement to him (s2e9)

Despite Blitzo telling him all the way back in Ozzie's and again in Full Moon, Stolas still can't bring himself to do enough self-reflection on how he acted to realize that calling someone a plaything and ignoring their boundaries and protests constantly is a reason for them to feel treated like an object. The song directly states that there's something he could learn from the arrangement falling apart even though he's had ample time to try and learn it and is punishing Blitzo for behaving in a way he doesn't understand because he's refused to see the problem (s2e9)

Expects an apology just as he did that morning, still thinks he's basically entirely in the right, doesn't accept it because Blitzo isn't meeting his needs well enough (s2e9)

Gets annoyed Blitzo might judge him for being at an anti-Blitzo party even though he himself said it was petty and is still calling it 'something stupid' (s2e9)

Despite knowing a big problem between them is Blitzo not believing he really cares, doesn't take the opportunity once he hears about Blitzo's insecurities to say what he likes about him and instead talks solely about wanting someone to love him (s2e9)

Despite seemingly wanting Blitzo to open up and talk to him, ditches the whole conversation the minute someone shows him the affection he wants (s2e9)

Makes out with that person - arguably he's given up entirely trying to make Blitzo understand he loves him and anyone will do, because otherwise this is just a spiteful thing to do (s2e9)

I didn't even intent to make the Stolas entry so long, there was just a lot of it because when a character keeps rewriting reality to favor themselves it would be accepting the show's framing to just let them do it. And the show's framing is wrong.

Anyway, that's the list. I'd like the 'Blitzo did just as much wrong!' party to look at his entries and note how many of them were just reactions to what Stolas did to him, how many of them are informed by his social class/being forced into bad positions due to poverty, how many of them are entirely understandable for someone in his position and how many of them require some pretty screwed up logic to count as doing something wrong (i.e. the fandom has a bad habit of implying Blitzo was duty bound to deal with Stolas' obsessions and delusions for the entire show because they had a one night stand, one time).

Notice how many of Stolas' entries are just plain abusive behaviors involving demeaning others or rewriting reality to favor himself.

Thanks for the list and your brave service, Anon. I'll definitely be keeping this one handy for tapping purposes, as should everyone.

[nim-rambles]

~Hantengu Clones x Disgust Clone Reader~

Reminder: drink water and eat a full meal! Turn on dark mode if it’s currently night where you live~ wouldn’t want ya eyes to hurt right?~ —go to your profile and press the icon that’s on the VERY right, then click “General Settings” and scroll down a bit till you see “Color Palette” and there should be a few options for ya there!—

Warnings: ooc, not proofread, your not gonna like Karaku’s part, you might shit your pants

Note: I’ve had this in my mind for quite a long time!!! Google better be right for the kanji’s I have next to the clone’s names or Istg- This doesn’t mean I won’t stop doing Tokito twins content tho! I’ve been posting some other things instead of Tokito content so i just wanted to reassure~ don’t worry Tokito enthusiastic’s! Your emotion is disgust and your color is a mix of Yellow and Green~ Platonic ofc or else self love has a new meaning💀 Enjoy <3

Masterlist+Introduction

Masterlist

Sekido 怒

You CANNOT come to me and tell me this is not toxic. 💀🖕

Both of you argue the most out of the clones

There was a time your argument got WAY out of hand ‘n both of you started using your BDA like crazy!

Your always pointing out his lil flaws

Tho Sekido’s clothes are more tolerable.

You tease him but not as much as Karaku

Long story short both of you want each other to die 😣

“Why not you fix your hair before you start talking?”

“WE HAVE THE SAME HAIRSTYLE YOU BRAT!”

These two lines kinda giving sibling energy- 👆

Karaku 愉

Your grossed out by the fact he doesn’t wear proper clothing.

Just one touch and you go

“AHHHH!!! THIS IS UTTERLY DISGUSTING!”

Teases you A LOT. You and Sekido most likely teamed up once just to get him to shut up 😬

I think he just considers you a whore at this point-

Considering you always look at his abs ‘n shit but your just trynna tell him to wear some clothes in the most judging way possible 😭

How did he even miss that gaze full of disgust!? HECK it’s your emotion-

“I know you like this Y/n~” he says as he licks his hand. Bro’s a cat fr💀

You gave him the most disgusted look ever that day.

Urogi 幸

He’s too much for you to handle-

Your losing your sanity yeah tots like you didn’t lose it years ago😃

Let’s just say your BDA is to be able to mind control-

The moment he uses his BDA you instantly use your BDA on him if your near.

Tho despite you literally being disgusted of him in every single way, you still hold some respect for him.

“A,IS)EJWAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” *Activated BDA*

You groan as you activate your BDA “I don’t have time for this! And keep ya mouth shut would ya?! Your voice is disgusting.”

Aizetsu 愁

You must admit he is quite tolerable then the other clones but that’s what makes it more disgusting.

You two have a pretty decent relationship.

Tho his outfit…it’s disgusting.

You don’t really hold…much disgust towards him???

Tho it’s just probably because he doesn’t annoy you much as the other clones.

OH YOU WERE VERY WRONG 😨

Your the only clone who doesn’t tease him or act serious.

That’s the explanation to him latching to your arm 24/7 👆💀

“UGHHH!!! GET OFF ME! YOUR FUCKING HEAVY!” You yelled.

“…Y/n don’t yell…that makes me sad…” he said clutching onto his staff

“This disgusts me. You disgust me.”

Yep, ya had to use your BDA to get him off.

But why ya gotta be so mean!!? >:(

But hey! Aizetsu’s confirmed to be a cat 😼

Zohakuten 憎

Let’s just say ALL of the clones are in a black void when Hantengu is in control 😶

Never though I’d say this but this relationship is WAY more toxic then yours with Sekido 😰

Your always commenting on how disgusting he is.

Roast him like a Roblox kid 😎

Tho you won’t be getting away just easily.

Considering he’s the STRONGEST of the clones you’ll def be beat to pieces 😭

“Ngh!…is that all you got? Your unreliable dragons can’t do shit to me! Utterly disgusting.” You say with a grin.

Hell you faced so many tortures that day- tho what scared ya the most was the fact that your regeneration slowed down 😰

Like- HOW!?!?

You swore to never go overboard with HIM ever again 🫡

[scandistar]

Exceptional Young Man: Part Two

(Part two of my short fic about Rolan's early childhood. Still pretty slow of a writer, but I'm doing my best!)

Part one, three, four

Word count: ~1600

See? He was doing well, perfectly in fact. This must be proof enough that he’s not stupid. Not pathetic and worthless. That he was someone actually worthy of his piece in the world, for he had recited this full chapter in only a week. He knew how to spell it word for word. The punctuation, the paragraph division, the grammar and the citation. He could speak it with his whole chest and carry his voice just like his father could. Proud, self-assured and assertive. He didn’t share his baritone timbre, he was too small for that, but one day he would! 

Father said that one day people would respect him as much as they respect the rest of the family. He said he would make him into enough of a man to hide his infernal flaws so that the people may accept him among them. He never really understood why they wouldn’t accept him as a tiefling, but father once told him that he has the blood of a devil. He said that his red skin and pointy horns were the traits of a wicked bloodline and that the city would despise him for only existing. If he couldn’t cover his flaws, he could at least teach the boy some proper wit and charm to distract from them.

He wasn’t sure if he felt all too existed to meet people, as there was so much to keep in mind, but in any case.

He had the full rest of the book to cover. He didn’t really know what it is about exactly, but father explained it in a way that made it seem very important. Something about how you talk to others and the cover of the book spelled “Socialite Courtesy of Elturgard”, which sounded important.  

He had been practicing for hours and only got occasional visits from his father who monitored his progress and gave his son the repeated order to stay in his room until he was allowed to leave. He never said when that would be, he only told him to study, practice and think of nothing that wasn’t written in the book. 

But his mind was drifting. The book couldn’t keep him from asking why he wasn’t allowed outside and why he had been in here for hours, especially. He didn’t want to do this anymore, it was getting so awfully boring, but father expected of him to do this without fail and would be mad unless he fulfilled those expectations. It never seemed to be perfect, though…

Oh, what was the harm? He surely wouldn’t notice if he took a peek through the keyhole, would he? Father usually told him to stay in his room when they have visitors, so perhaps they had people over? He didn’t tell him about them, but he could’ve just as easily forgotten to do so. 

He had studied for hours, practiced his tone of voice and the manner in which he spoke that he most certainly must’ve been ready to be included in the room. He could finally prove himself, make his father proud and for once be allowed to talk to someone aside from his parents. He had never done that before, not really. The only people father ever allowed him to talk to were doctors or private tutors, but even then he didn’t get to speak much for himself. 

He could change that if he opened this door, but what if he made a grave mistake instead? What if father gets mad? He would be furious, even more so than usually, as he’d yell and call him all sorts of names. From his dagger tongue he’d spew: “useless”, “stupid”, “a waste of time” and “a good for nothing devil”. He never held back, no. He voiced everything his angry mind could conjure.

But father also taught him to be bold and to take risks. So that’s what he did. He hopped off his seat, scurried to the door and peered through the keyhole. He spied for anyone outside to make sure the coast was clear and it was. 

Nobody upstairs but him, so he turned the nob and opened the door ajar to listen. 

His ears, sharper than most, heard a mild commotion downstairs. Speaking voices that filled the house with a strangely dense atmosphere. The feeling weighed in his chest and only spurred his curiosity, so he stepped outside and gingerly shut the door behind himself.

From the top of the stairs he spotted the front door wide open and caught glimpse of a sliver of his father’s heel rested on the cobble landing outside. He heard him speak to someone with a finality in his tone, a kind that sent the child’s anxiety storming.

He rushed to the hallway, not caring how much of a racket he made down the stairs and caught himself on the doorframe where he stood facing the scene before him - in broad daylight. 

What was this? Why did she just stand there, on the street, facing father with a face devoid of warmth and love, instead twisted into a cold glare that bore into the man’s skull. She looked so hateful, with a black gaze that was just mere meters away from her child and he probably felt it deeper than his father did. Father couldn’t have looked less bothered with her.

On the cobble streets stood his mother. Dressed as neatly as ever, she were silent as she listened to the man on the stairs spout about sending her the rest of her belongings once she’s returned to her parents villa. From the way she stood and the way she stared, she looked like she had no more say in whatever had transpired.

What was happening? Why was there a wagon?

“Mama!” he yelled to her as she ran out and down the flight of steps. For a split second he saw a flash of bleak dread widen her eyes, but it quickly thawed into a woeful frown. She still looked pale as snow, like she was sick in a way.

She knelt to catch him and envelop him in her arms, before she held him out and cupped his face tightly. Her hands were cold, like she had soaked them in ice since the morn and he could’ve sworn her sigh was just as chilly. If he didn’t see her right in front him, he’d probably mistake her for winter, but the leaves on the trees has just started to bud and the sun was bursting through the overcast. Was she truly there, or did his eyes deceive him?

He grabbed her sleeves and pulled at her, because even though he had no clue what was happening, he feared she would disappear if he let go. That she would vanish out of sight and just cease to exist.

“Where are you going?” he begged her through a shaky voice. “When are you coming back?”

She gently pushed another lock behind his ear and cast her gaze down to straighten his tunic - and to avoid that distraught look in his eyes.

“Oh, love.” she said so softly and caressed his cheek, a feathery touch he’d melt into wasn't his bottom lip quivering. “Be a good boy, now. Do as your father tells you.”

“What do you mean? When will you be home again?!” he asked while he forbade himself from weeping. Father was always irked by his crying.

“Love…” she murmured, her own voice growing heavier. But instead of giving in to the sorrow, she looked him right in the eye, meeting him as deep down as she could before she spoke: “You’ll be an exceptional young man one day. I can promise you that much… But just-”

Her eyes trailed back up to the man stood on the landing, still straighter than an arrow, and at him did her face stiffen and her breath shudder. She held her child tighter, like she didn’t wish to let go of him either. 

“Obey your father and do as he asks of you. Do not disappoint him.” 

She gifted him a last miserly smile and tapped him on the nose before she brought herself back up, rolling her shoulders artfully. She looked back at the man above them, lowering her head in a slow, crushed nod that must’ve signaled for him to come retrieve his son, for father hurried down and wrapped his hand around the boy’s arm.

“Come now, son. We’re finished here.” he affirmed and turned to the door.

But he wasn’t ready yet. He tried to latch onto the stones of the pavement while glaring at his mother who only looked on with not a light left in her deep, brown eyes. Not one spark of her soul to speak of and not a smile for miles around. He had seen her devastated before, but there he hardly recognised her.

“Mama…” he whined, barely audible. 

“Mama!” he cried for her. “No- NO! MAMA!”

“SILENCE, BOY!” father roared and pulled his arm.

No, he would not be silent. He still clawed in the air for her and yelled with the full might of his lungs. He pushed against his father as well as the ground, but he could do nothing against the man’s size nor strength. He was too small to do anything - too useless. Completely powerless.

And she just stood there as her son was dragged away, turned around with her eyes sealed shut and her gloved hand pressed against her mouth.

Did she want this to happen? Why would she leave him? Was he not enough?

The driver had loaded the wagon with the last of her things before father shut the door behind them, cutting out the daylight with a bang.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Guardian - Chapter 1/6

Janus is out helping Thomas when theres a mindscape mishap that results in the other sides turning into little kids. What he doesn't understand is how easily they come to him help.

Well, he supposes he should make the best of it while it lasts.

--

Or, five times Janus helps out the other sides and one time they extend the same to him.

----

| Ao3 | Next -> |

Warnings: n/a

Pairings: platonic DLAMPR

Notes:

Hiiii I've been working on this fic behind the scenes for a few months and it's now fully written and complete, so you don't have to worry about it being months between uploads (oops?)!

This is really just a cute, silly fic about Janus being parental to the other sides, I'll upload a chapter every week!

----

“Oh yes, totally, do keep overworking yourself Thomas, it’s so good for all of us,” Jamus said, throwing up his hands. He hadn’t meant to yell, really, and most certainly not at Thomas, who now looked incredibly shocked by his outburst,  but his centre had been overworking himself for weeks now, staying up late, getting up early. Virgil had been high strung the whole time with the amount of phone calls and meetings and auditions Thomas had been doing - he’d barely gotten a break. Patton had been doing his best to keep everything together but Janus could’ve told you even without seeing Patton that he was barely holding it together himself. 

Logan was bottling up his feelings still and Roman was… well. 

It was Janus’ fault, though of course he would never admit it. The courtroom had gone just a little awry from his plans. Again - his fault - he had pushed Roman too far, he had needed Roman on his side and he had had him - and then he’d pushed too much and lost it. Now everyone was suffering - the exact opposite to what he had been trying to achieve. In fact, everyone being angry with each other and stressed out was the exact thing he had been trying so hard to avoid. And the wedding… well, no-one was doing okay after the wedding.

So he’d sent Remus in. Remus was good at that kind of thing - providing a necessary outlet for the group. They all needed to let off steam and Remus was good at getting people to do that, though in the end Thomas had just ended up even more stressed. Everything was going wrong and Janus was fairly certain it was all his fault - but it was also his job to fix it. So he had shown up by himself today in Thomas’ apartment to get him to finally sit down and take an actual, proper break. 

Janus had cooked him breakfast, sat him down on the couch and put on Steven Universe, and told him to take a break. 

“Just - deep breaths, focus on Steven Universe, and just - don’t worry, for a bit, it’ll do us all some good.” Janus sighed. Virgil would appreciate the lack of stress, Roman would appreciate the break - he was so overworked right now - and both Logan and Patton would appreciate not having to deal with the others too, “Give us all a break.”

Thomas sighed, looking at the TV for a long moment, before nodding, “Okay, fine, you win.”

“Wonderful,” Janus said, “Have a good day, Thomas.”

“You too… Janus.” 

It was still strange hearing Thomas call him by his name. But instead of expressing that, Janus just nodded and sunk out. 

1.

The mindscape was surprisingly quiet when Janus returned from visiting Thomas. Patton wasn’t in the kitchen, Logan wasn’t at the table, neither Roman nor Virgil were on the couch and as always, Remus was nowhere to be seen. With his newfound access to the light sides mindscape and the fact that none of the others seemed to be around, Janus grabbed a book and curled up on their armchair - the one conveniently placed right in the perfect spot to catch a ray of sun - wrapped up in one of his full length cloaks like a blanket. 

Opening his book to the bookmarked page he hummed as he began to read - a fantasy book with a who-dunnit murder plotline, it was very intriguing, though not his normal reading material. He thought Logan might like it, it had the perfect amount of fantasy worldbuilding to pick apart and work out and, of course, the mystery plotline was right up his alley. Maybe if they ever developed more of a friendship he could recommend it. 

Just as he had settled in, something pulled on his cloak. Of course, he was a little startled, wondering what on earth it could be as he put down his book and looked down - just to come face to face with a small child who looked suspiciously like patton. 

“...Patton?” He questioned as he slipped his bookmark back into his page. The child twisted his hands together and nodded. Janus hummed - He did look like Patton, with the same mousy brown curling hair, the round glasses that looked slightly too big on his tiny face and the same old cardigan tied around his shoulders - just smaller than normal. 

“Why… are you small?” He asked - Patton tilted his head in confusion. Janus thought he couldn’t be any older than five. 

“‘M always small?” He said, sounding just as confused as Janus, who did not know how he was supposed to deal with a child version of Patton who apparently didn’t know that he hadn’t been a child when they’d awkwardly danced around each other in the kitchen getting breakfast that morning. 

“...Right,” He said, “Well… I definitely know what’s going on right now - did you want something?”

“Mhm,” Patton said, perking up as he seemed to be reminded of whatever he had come over here for, he tugged on Janus’ cloak again, “I want - I want to make cookies, for - for the others, cause they all deserve cookies ‘cause they’re awesome and sweet - but - but I can’t reach the counter so - so I wanna get you to help.”

“Why can’t one of them help?” Janus asked - unsure why Patton had come to him over Logan or even Virgil - though he understood why he hadn’t gone to either of the twins. Neither of them were allowed in the kitchen for good reason.

“‘Cause they’re busy,” Patton said as though that should be obvious, swaying a little. Janus wanted to snap that he was busy too - but Patton was apparently just a kid with no memory of being an adult - so he restrained himself, “‘sides, you’re the only one who can reach anyways.”

Well that was slightly worrying, considering the fact that last he had checked Janus had been the shortest of the group. He didn’t want to think of what that implied. He took a deep breath and set his book to the side.

“Alright, I would love to help,” He lied easily, standing up. Patton held out his hand and when Janus hesitated to take it he shook it insistently at him. Janus sighed, rolled his eyes, and took Patton’s hand so that the child could lead him to the kitchen. Once in there, Janus grabbed a stepstool he had hidden in a cupboard so he could reach the top shelves and put it next to the counter for Patton to stand on. He seemed excited enough by the yellow stool. As long as Janus would do this without him crying, he would consider it a success. At least Janus wasn’t a bad baker.

“Alright… what kind of cookies would you like to make?” he asked, looking through the cupboards and grabbing them a bowl and a whisk to use, and then a spatula as well. He looked back at Patton as he grabbed the butter and eggs from the fridge.

“Chocolate,” Patton said, grinning, Janus frowned. 

“Chocolate? What kind of chocolate?”

“Uhhh… chocolate.” Patton said decisively, Janus couldn’t help but laugh.

“Chocolate chip?”

“Yup,”

“Milk chocolate? White chocolate?”

“All the chocolate!”

“Okay okay,” Janus laughed, “Triple choc chip cookies it is, then,” He placed the butter and eggs down on the counter before climbing up onto the counter so he could get to the cupboard containing the chocolate chips - kept on the top shelf to keep them away from everyone. They wouldn’t be kept from Janus and Patton today, though. 

“Be a dear and grab the sugar, will you?” Janus said without thinking as he placed the chocolate chips on the side. It was a pretty stupid thing to ask when Patton was hardly as tall as the counter itself. Patton called an affirmative, though, and Janus wasn’t paying attention until he heard a sound of effort and turned to see Patton attempting to pull himself up onto the counter like Janus had, “Hey! Wait - no -  don’t do that!” He said, making Patton freeze and turn to look worriedly at him.

“What?” he asked, frowning.

“Don’t - don’t climb on the counter,” He said, shaking his head, going over to him and reaching to grab the bags of sugar himself, “It’s dangerous.”

“But you were climbin’ on the counter,” Patton huffed, the accusation hung in the air for a second.

“Do as I say and not as I do. The only life I’m risking today is my own,” Janus says, ruffling Patton’s hair as he puts the sugar with the rest of the ingredients. 

“Why can you do it and not me?” Patton said, pouting at him, “‘s not fair.”

“Would you like it if one of the others climbed on the counter and fell?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Patton rocked back and forth for a second, contemplating, before hesitantly shaking his head. 

“...No, I wouldn’t,” He said quietly.

“Then you understand why we don’t want you to climb on the counter then, don’t you?” He said, trying to guide Patton towards the answer.

“But you were still on the counter,” he protested, “Don’t want you hurt either.”

“...I won’t climb on the counter anymore either,” He said - maybe he was lying, but Patton didn’t have to know that if it helped him keep him safe, “How about that?”

Patton frowned, but eventually nodded, accepting that. Janus resigned himself to borrowing Patton’s step stool for the rest of the ingredients. 

—-

Patton was a clumsy child, Janus quickly learned. 

Now, Janus definitely had a lot of experience with children - don’t let him fool you - he’s very good at this. But after the fourth ingredient spill, he was starting to get agitated. 

“Would you like me to help you?” He asked as Patton spilled yet more flour over the counter trying to measure it out. Patton made a face at him and kept trying. 

Just as with every other time so far, Patton refused his assistance and kept doing it himself, even if the kitchen was starting to look like cookie ingredients had exploded all over it. 

Janus couldn’t see how this was all that fun for Patton, either, though he had a determined smile on his face. At this point Janus had needed to discreetly conjure an extra egg because Patton broke one more than they had spare, he just couldn’t understand why he wasn’t asking for help - or how he was still stubbornly smiling through the entire thing. 

It took until spilling the entire pack of chocolate chips across the floor as he tried to open it for Patton’s smile to finally crack. He stood there on the stepstool with the empty packet in hand and Janus saw the tears welling up in his eyes only before they began to fall and suddenly Patton was wailing. 

“Shit,” Janus mumbled to himself, quiet enough that Patton couldn’t hear, abandoning the cookie dough on the side and trying to wipe off his gloves so that he could at least attempt to comfort him, “Patton - hon - stay with me…” he said, crouching down to Patton’s level and trying to get his attention.

“Can I hug you, darling?” he offers, holding out his arms just in case Patton wanted something like that. He expected him to take it, of course, it’s not like Patton hated him or anything, but to his surprise Patton almost immediately tipped forward into his arms, leaving Janus to fumble a little to catch him and bundle him up safely in his arms - he had to use his other arms too, but unsurprisingly, Patton didn’t seem to mind amongst his tears. 

The small side in his arms pressed into him, burrowing under Janus’ cloak a little where he could and continuing to sob into his chest. He was getting Janus’ clothes filthy with the way he was covered in spilled flour and egg and chocolate and batter - and although Janus cared quite a lot about his appearance he knew he could change once this was over. He could put up with it for a moment. For now he simply ran his gloved fingers through Patton’s hair. 

“It’s alright, little one, take a deep breath, that’s it, you’re feeling a lot right now, aren’t you?” Janus crooned, shifting to sit down on the kitchen floor for his own comfort, leaning back against the cabinets, Patton nodded into his shoulder, no doubt smearing snot and tears and various cookie ingredients all over his tunic. Lovely. 

“What’s upset you so?” He asked once Patton’s tears had calmed a little. He hiccupped a few times before wiping his nose with the back of his hand (disgusting) and making a horribly sad noise. 

It took Patton a moment of sniffing and whimpering to answer, But eventually he spoke, voice small and shaky, “I couldn’t - couldn’t do it,” He says.

“Couldn’t do what?” Janus asked, rubbing circles on Patton’s back. That had always helped Virgil calm down from panic attacks, maybe it would work here too. 

“The- the cookies - I couldn’t - couldn’t even do something nice for them - wanted - wanted to do it myself -” He choked as more tears welled up, Janus made a soft cooing sound, continuing to play with Patton’s hair. 

“Sometimes,” He says softly, “The best thing you can do for others is ask for help.”

“Wh- what?” Little Patton asked, Janus smiled a little. 

“Sometimes, asking for help lets people know you appreciate them,” he says, “It tells people you trust them enough to have them join in something that means a lot to you - it lets them know that you’re aware they would help you, should you ask.”

Patton’s eyes became wide and sparkly, it almost made Janus laugh, “So - so asking for help is like saying I appreciate them?”

“Yeah - something like that,” Janus nods, “You like to help everyone else, don’t you?”

“Yeah- yeah!” Patton said, nodding so quickly his glasses went askew, Janus righted them carefully, “I love helpin’! Makes me feel all fuzzy and happy!”

“Well that’s how we feel when we get to help you,” Janus smiled as Patton gasped softly, “Helping you makes the rest of us happy, too.”

“Really?”

“Really really,” He said. It was rare Janus himself was asked for help nowadays, but his job was to take care of the mindscape after all… who would he be if he didn’t want to help the others?”

“Woah…” Patton said softly, sounding a little awestruck. 

“So… will you let me help you finish making these cookies for the others?” Janus said, gesturing above them where the mixture still sat. 

“But… but it’s all ruined… I spilled the chocolate…” Patton said, getting all sad again. Well they couldn’t have that now could they?

“Ah, but that’s where we have to add a little bit of magic,” He grinned, pulling a new bag of chocolate chips from seemingly inside of his cloak (he had of course just summoned them, but he really was one for the dramatic twist. Patton gasped and giggled as he held out his hands for them. 

“You ready?” Janus asked, “Up we go-”

A batch of cookies slightly smaller than it should have been (though still perfectly delicious) made it into the oven soon after, and the real smile hadn’t left Patton’s face the entire time. 

Janus couldn’t help but feel like that had gone well despite the tears.

----

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Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmealdaydreams @littlerat2 @goldnskyart @virgeandhis-pocket-protector (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[miscellaneoussmp]

Holy shit, a proper fanfic? It's more likely than you think. I'm normal about hgduo, I'm so normal about hgduo and that's why I wrote this. Anyways, here's Cellbit throughout the years (cw/tw: blood/violence/death mentioned/referenced throughout, general Cellbit fuckery, highly repetitive narration):

Cellbit is just thirteen. Well, in actuality, he doesn't know his name, and his age is just as obscure when he meets Badboyhalo. The demon teaches him all sorts of things like how to not waste food, words to use instead of swears, and a fun game. 'Fetch' Bad calls it. Cellbit thinks the demon is lying to him sometimes. He laughs every time Bad yells at him for swearing, but he tries not to most of the time. It's not his fault that he didn't see that arrow, or maybe it is? Bad teaches him to be aware of his surroundings.

Cellbit is sixteen, well in actuality he still doesn't know his name instead Bad calls him a flurry of assorted nicknames ('Little one' the demon seems to settle on when he thinks Cellbit is sleeping. In reality, he doesn't sleep). He doesn't know how long it's been when he loses sight of Bad. He thinks he must be feeling empty. Alone, maybe? He doesn't know. He walks off the battlefield with an iron knife in hand and the taste of iron in his mouth.

Cellbit is just nineteen. Well, in actuality, people call him Cell, and he finally knows how old he is as the courts seemed hellbend on proving his age when he sits across from a psychologist. They seem nervous, maybe it's the mutliple armed guards? Who knows, certainly not him. They ask him a very simple question: Why? Cell answers truthfully for once, "A demon told me not to waste food, so I don't." He shrugs like it's the most mundane thing in the world, and to him, it is.

Cellbit is twenty-six when the cargo ship he snuck on runs aground. He tries his best to ignore the looks from nervous brown eyes and pissed off green eyes. He introduces himself with his full name in front of the people who live on this island. One of those people is Bad. It feels nice to know that his oldest friend now knows his name. Cellbit meets his son for the first time, and he thinks the world of the little one.

Cellbit is twenty-six when he thinks he's fallen in love. Cellbit is twenty-six when he makes the worst decision in his entire life. Cellbit is twenty-six when he wakes up with a white streak in his hair. Cellbit is twenty-six when he gets engaged. Cellbit is twenty-six when he gets married.

Cellbit is twenty-six when his son goes missing along with the rest of the children on the island. Cellbit is twenty-six when he pushes himself headfirst into looking for any clue possible. Cellbit is twenty-six when he meets his sister. Bagi is twenty-six when she finds her brother. Why did she get to be happy? Why did she not find him sooner? She wasn't. She tried, and she was so close. Cellbit is twenty-six when he gives up his knife to Bad. He'll get better use out of it. Cellbit is twenty-six when he picks up a different blade. His mouth is filled with the taste of iron again. He wants his son back. He wants the children back. Rage consumes his very soul. Bagi is twenty-six when she realizes her brother is the murderer. 'Is he proud?' The question goes unanswered. Cellbit is twenty-six when he feels thirteen again. "Do you like it?" He asks, his voice far too soft. "You've gone soft." He hisses to his oldest friend. Cellbit is twenty-six when he confesses murder to his husband.

Cellbit is twenty-six when he enters hell for the second time in his life. Under the red sky feels like home. He feels alive. This time, Bad is his enemy. Cellbit is twenty-six when his son dies. Cellbit is twenty-six when he takes a final ten seconds to say goodbye. Cellbit is twenty-six when he hunts people down for fun with Baghera. Cellbit is twenty-six when he's sure the demon is lying to him. He feels empty again. Cellbit is still only twenty-six when he and Baghera are rescued by their children. A fresh start. Cellbit still feels empty.

Cellbit turns twenty-seven, and he celebrates. He celebrates with his son, his niece, and his oldest friend. They celebrate with fighting mobs.

Cellbit is just twenty-seven when his oldest friend, Bad, forgets his name. Cellbit is just twenty-seven when his mentor, Bad, forgets to write a letter. Cellbit is just twenty-seven when the question he asked long ago is answered. 'I'm proud of you, you know that, right?' Cellbit doesn't even know. Cellbit has just turned twenty-seven when the person who knows him the best, Bad, dies. Cellbit doesn't even know.

[dark-elf-writes]

The image of Percy trying to be innocent about the whole thing then his mom taking advantage of the situation to hang out with her friends is fun

“And that’s how I ended up in Hell… and also why I was late for dinner.”

Raising a demigod always led to the most… interesting reasons for her son being home late and covered in quite literally the gods only knew what (and it probably said something about how crazy their lives were that “My dog kidnapped me and took me to hell” was the best case scenario for Percy being missing she had heard since her baby had turned twelve) but Sally Jackson was sure she had never seen her little boy so… embarrassed. Percy had led an army, had stood tall in the face of the gods themselves, had bested a titan nearly single-handedly and yet now his face was bright red as he looked down at his battered sneakers as he dug the toe of his shoe into the carpet.

It was adorable, though she wouldn’t say it out loud. The poor kid looked like he had already been through enough today without adding the mortification of his mother pinching his cheeks and calling him sweet on top of it.

“I’m sure they’ve seen worse than a hellhound, sweetheart,” okay, maybe she could add some parental embarrassment at least enough for him to look at her with narrowed eyes for the pet name instead of looking like he simultaneously wanted to die on the spot and was planning how he would never die at all to avoid the afterlife. “And you weren’t this torn up about that surprise trip to your uncle’s.”

Percy scrunched his nose. “Their guarded is full of Medusa statues if anything Mrs. O’Leary was doing them a favor. But…” he sighed and let his head fall forward, the closest to shame Sally had seen on him since he had accidentally broken the cabinet when he was thirteen. “They’re just doing their jobs.”

“So, technically, was your uncle.”

That earned her an eye roll which Sally took as a win. “Okay, yeah, but like the gods deserve it. Shut up, you know you do!” The last part was directed at the ceiling after a rather irritated clap of thunder on an otherwise clear day. After a silent staring contest with the ceiling light Percy rolled his eyes and continued, “They didn’t do anything or expect anything from me just from being alive, and Ms Penny and Mr. Greg adopted Nico even though they knew he was a demigod at the time and… they’re nice. Ms. Lily didn’t even yell at me even though we messed a bunch of stuff up and made their job a lot harder because they had to work around the sleeping dog the size of a truck. Like Ha— Uncle threatened to throw me in the dungeon again, and we wrecked one jewel plant, but Ms. Lily gave me a muffin. A muffin, mom!”

If Sally could kill Gabe again, she would. If she could march onto Olympus and shake the gods who had made her baby so unused to kindness that simply not being yelled at had completely turned his world on its head until they saw the boy instead of the hero, she would. But Sally Jackson was just a mortal for all she could see clearly, so instead of screaming at that clear sky until her voice could drown out thunder she smiled and cupped Percy’s cheeks, lifting his face until he was looking at her.

“First, we’re going to go to the store and get as many ingredients as we can. Then you are going to help me make enough cookies for the gate and the desk while we talk about how something are put of the hands of even big scary demigods. Once all that is done and Mrs. O’Leary sleeps off your little adventure then you can take some cookies down to hell with you and give everyone a proper apology, okay?”

For the first time since Percy came home that day he smiled at her, still a little sheepish but honest all the same. “Blue cookies?”

“Of course blue cookies. What are we, animals?”

Percy’s laugh was the sweetest sound she had ever heard.

[yosefinthetrenches]

two people liked my post so here is my harmony fanfiction 👅🫡

Erich Collin was a boy with a future set straight ahead of him. His star was hung perfectly in the sky by his very proper parents, and what was Erich to do but follow that light?

So, Erich spent most of his days poring over draining textbooks or flashcards in illegible cursive. His parents had even bought him a plaque in advance for his big day; it read "Dr. Erich Collin" in big loopy letters.

Unfortunately for them, the sight of it made Erich want to puke with anxiety, so the plaque lay collecting dust under his bed.

Today, however, as Erich read the newspaper over an already-cold coffee, he spotted an advertisement. "A new modern singing group," it read. The only requirement, much to Erich's delight, was "must be able to sing harmony." So, Erich snuck out and, even though he had zero singing experience other than a school play, snuck off to audition.

After his audition (and after a proper almost-panic-attack in the restroom), Erich sat nervously by the piano. Harry, the ringleader, was sitting in another room, still conducting auditions.

Erich by now was positively sure he was going to puke and that this was all for nothing. Even if he did get a role, his parents would surely find out, and dear L-rd, what were they going to say?

"Hi!" A cheery voice interrupted his thoughts, "My name's Lesh! Well, it's not *really* Lesh; it's Ari, but everyone calls me Lesh. You were good!"

And suddenly, the cheerful boy was talking Erich's ear off about nothing in particular, between puffs of a cigarette. Erich didn't mind much, though; it was better than imagining his doomsday.

Soon after that, there were six in that little singing group (including Erich!), and they began rehearsals. In all, there were Erich, Lesh, Yosef (who Harry, and in turn everyone else, called Rabbi), Bobby, and Erwin (who went by Chopin).

Erich found himself with Lesh the most. His boundless energy was infectious, and Erich had never felt so at home. Lesh liked Erich as well. His quotes confused Lesh, but, nevertheless, Erich was good fun.

Erich practiced with the group, of course, while also studying, test-taking, and all kinds of things for his school. It was hard to balance, but Erich maintained it as best he could.

He hummed his parts whilst taking notes and took flashcards with him to the subway stops they sang at.

It made things harder. Of course it did, but it made Erich happy. He felt more at home in an alley than he ever did at home.

However, it seemed like all he'd built up was coming to a slamming stop when he heard Strauss was supposed to be coming backstage. Erich bolted and hid in the bathroom until he was sure the man had left.

Whilst in that bathroom, though, Erich felt his throat get all tight, and Erich breathed and breathed and breathed. He didn't stop till he'd thrown water in his face at least three times.

Once Strauss had left, everything seemed to keep going downhill. Lesh had grabbed Erich's hand, full of glee, and happily explained that they were going to the Barberina Club. Erich almost puked right then.

"Well... it's just an audition," he opted for instead.

Harry responded, "But what if we get it? That's bad for you, isn't it?"

And the room started closing in on Erich.

"I'm going to have to leave the group if we get this audition," he said at some point, and everyone started yelling.

Lesh broke through Erich's thoughts as he so often did, pointing fingers at Harry.

Erich leapt to Harry's defense, and soon enough, Erich's secret had been spilled.

The room went silent for a moment before Rabbi jumped in, asking why Erich was keeping secrets.

"Because their son—me—is supposed to be a surgeon," Erich answered, quoting something he couldn't remember now. His knees felt like they were going to buckle, and Rabbi's "tokhes" saying didn't help.

Suddenly, Erich was whisked over to a table to rehearse breaking the news to his parents with an all-too-eager Lesh staring as his mother and a similarly eager Bobby staring as his father. It did help, though Erich wouldn't be quick to admit that. After which, Lesh gave Erich a cigarette—Erich's first cigarette.

So Lesh and Erich sat in the back of the dressing room smoking. Lesh was rambling about something with that smile on his face, but Erich wasn't really listening. He just liked listening to Lesh's voice.

maybe I'll work more on it if people like it, if they don't it's cus it was written by me at 2 so 👅

[cepheusgalaxy]

Febuwhump day 4: ALT prompt 9: In another life

CWs: Death

Furisaki Kokoro sneaked from shadow to shadow under the evening sun until she found her target, arriving at his own house. A small thing with a simple two-sided roof and that did not even have a garden of its own.

She grabbed the hilt of her sword, still sheathed. The man was unloading a small carriage filled with a few baskets full of junk, its horse with greying mane and weak legs. He didn’t notice her presence.

The man grunted as he grabbed more bags than he was probably able to carry, moving inside home. A few toys fell into the ground. Startled, he crouched down to pick them up, making the other baskets fall as well. Kokoro’s eye twitched from where she was hidden. Was this stupid man not even competent enough to bring insife his own shit? She had planned to follow him inside, but he was taking too long for that already.

Kokoro sighed.

But, before she could move from her hiding spot and get it over with, a few kids came into his direction, running and yelling and playing with a rubber ball.

They gathered around the man, calling out for his name cheerfully, before noticing his situation, and eventually all of them started helping him pick his stuff up. They were messy. A few bamboo helicopters went rolling far away. They couldn’t even help him right.

She waited for them to be gone, the man finally inside his house.

She took a few steps foward, and felt a little stone in front of her feet.

Oh.

Kokoro knelt down to pick it up. It was one of the toys. She swung it between her fingers, making it fly away.

As the little helicopter got more and more distant, she followed the man inside, before he could close his door.

“Hello!” The man said over his shoulder, setting a bag on the floor over the entrance step, not needing to take his shoes off. “May I, uh, may I help with something?”

She trespassed the door.

“I’m afraid not.” Kokoro rested a hand on the hilt of her sword. The man’s eyes shifted towards it and he flinched away.

“Who are you?” His voice went up an octave.

Without giving him warning, Kokoro dashed towards the man and grabbed the collar of his undershirt. Startled, he fell over his own feet and Kokoro used a hand to throw him on the floor.

“Is this—is this about the debt? I-I promise I can pay him back! Please, I—” His voice fell silent at the sight she put in front of him

The early evening sun reflected on her blade, mere inches away from his face. She could hear his raced heartbeat from here.

“My lord told me to tell you your time is way over due.” Kokoro placed the tip of her sword under his chin and tilted his head up. “You should have spent your time and resources more wisely, toymaker.” She kicked one of the dolls that had falled down the step with his panicked struggle. He flinched, staying still. How pathetic. She crouched down to his level. 

Had he not wasted so much and so long carving stupid toys for stupid children, he could have worked on decent projects and earned a proper living. Instead, here they were.

“He says he shall see you in hell,” Kokoro told him in a manner of goodbye.

The man’s pupils shrinked down to the side of a grain of salt in panick.

She fixed her element to air and choked him.

It took a bit of a while, but Kokoro didn’t really feel like cleaning her sword today.

She watched as the light left his eyes, hands desperately clinging onto his throat to try and breathe. His arms grew weaker and weaker, and he gasped for air with growing despair at every minute that passed by. Eventually, he stopped convulsing and fell limp. Not a single drop of blood needed.

Kokoro stood up to her feet.

As she opened the door to let the light inside, she stumbled upon yet another doll. This one was, surprisingly, very well-done. It was a kokeshi carved out of wood, with a round head over a thick cilinder for its body. The doll had a bit of wool braided into small cavities to make little knots and pretend they were its hair, as well as some cheerful and intricate flowers painted over the base in hues of red, pink and green. It was the kind of gift a nobleman would give his wife when their kids were born, for good luck. The kind of gift that would have ended up as a beloved toy for them when they were born, being worn down over the years by love and care.

Her lips curled into a bitter smile. Damn you, toymaker. If you had a bit more of luck, she thought, maybe in another life that skill could’ve earned you a better income.

In another life, maybe that doll could’ve even been hers, she thought.

Kokoro threw the doll away.

febuwhump masterlist || @febuwhump || taglist: @whumpinthepot

[midnightwind]

Clipped Wings

Clipped Wings is a slow burn Rookanis fic (our main man and his +1 will be appearing in later chapters) taking place right before the events of the game up until the final scene fates willing.

Summary: Every hero has to start somewhere. For Mirenna de Riva that somewhere is in an alley she wasn't supposed to be in, fighting Antaam she wasn't supposed to be dealing with.

Word Count: 6076

Read on AO3 | Next

Chapter One: The Botched Job

The air was acrid, the smoke from the many Antaam bonfires stinging her nose as she clung to the trellis. It was doing a damn fine job drowning out the usual smell of the canals, smothering the food stalls still fighting for coin in the markets. Even the cafes struggled to combat the smoke at times. Treviso had turned into a smoldering mess, all fire and gunpowder. The Antaam checkpoints choked the once beautiful maze of alleys and canal paths, ugly slabs of wood casting a harsh reminder of the occupation on the streets. There were attempts to reclaim them, of course, the splashes of purple and black art serving as the calling cards of the Crows. A few might have even been painted by her hand, but they did little to inspire faith. Things looked bad.

The Crows had begun gathering in the Cantori Diamond to make plans, a strange cooperation to be seen from an order that would kill a House for sneezing wrong. It wasn’t quite war, but the occupation was an affront to their honor. Treviso, all of Antiva, was theirs. So how did an order of assassins deal with it? Apparently by spending days upon weeks discussing where to hit the Antaam, sending out small teams that seemed to more annoy the invaders than actually uproot them, and so much yelling. It was why she was out in the city instead of back at the nest. No open contracts in her name meant she had a little free time and getting away from the Talons arguing over what was the more worthy target was a blessing. As if Viago and Teia in the same room wasn’t exhausting enough, having the First Talon looming in each meeting was terrifying. Just thinking of the woman sent a shiver down her spine.

Shaking herself slightly, she turned away from the grim image of Antiva and pulled herself swiftly to the rooftop. She liked being on the up high, above everything and feeling the wind wrap around herself. Through the haze of smoke she could still see the stars shining down, the moons bright and full. A fine night for a run. If Viago wanted to drag her into another pointless meeting that ended with her giving an Antaam patrol a run for their money, well, tough shit. One of the fledglings would have to catch her first. Or better yet, they could do the job.

There was a daunting gap between buildings caused by the canal that she wanted to finally vault. It gave her a goal that at least felt attainable in the now. Better than lurking in the casino rafters waiting for Viago to send her away when she got too annoying. There was a joke to be made about putting a crow in a cage that caused a wry smile to brush her lips. If she could combine it with a pun she could torture Teia with it at least. But she had a date with the yawning abyss to keep.

A moment of quick stretches and deep breathing had her whirling thoughts finally settle. A stillness came over her before she bolted into motion. The roof flew past in a blur, her feet barely touching the ground as she vaulted balconies and ran along felled beams. She loved the feeling of her stomach dropping when she jumped over the streets and canals, a wild euphoria in the action. Her magic hummed in her veins, quick bursts pushing her a little higher into the air, giving her a bit longer in the jump. A proper burning in her lungs was building as she reached her goal, a sudden darkness of empty air looming ahead. Her destination had a decent balcony one storey down and she had been landing there on each attempt. She was always just short of the roof proper. Usually she would stop before the jump, double check she had a clear landing, then give herself the length of the roof as windup. 

Tonight she wasn't stopping. Letting the momentum of the night’s run carry her, she sailed into the waiting darkness. There was a long moment where it felt she simply hung in the air, no tether or fear of falling. As if she truly were a crow flying in the sky. Then gravity latched onto her. She was going to miss again. Frustration had her teeth grinding, but she wasn't one to give up. Magic pooled in her hands as she thrust them down, a bright light and resounding pop following the push of energy. It threw her back up into the air, the lip of the roof finally appearing under her, but now she was wholly unprepared to land.

With her hands stuck near her knees, she had to twist midair to avoid landing on them. Instead she landed on her side, her shoulder and hip taking the brunt of the impact as she rolled to a stop. Flopping to her back she pulled in gasping breaths, a wide smile on her lips. She raised her hands into the air in victory, wincing as her bruised shoulder protested. She'd probably regret it in the morning, but the exhilaration was worth it.

Her blood ran cold in the next second as the sounds of clinking chains and Antaam grunts echoed up from the street below. She flipped to her stomach, inching to the rooftop's edge to peer down. There was a patrol of the horned bastards leading a dejected train of people in chains. Slaves. They were making slaves of her people. It was only a handful of them, but she felt rage beginning to eat away at her thoughts. Six Antaam guards, half leading and half following. Two artillerists, three axe wielders, and a shield guard. The gunners pulled up the rear and the shield guard seemed to be leading.

Before she could fully process her actions, she was pulling out throwing daggers coated in poison. It was a paralyzing agent, a bit slow to take action but debilitating. Three found their mark as she pushed off the roof, a fourth going wide. Viago would be furious at that if he had been watching. Mageknife in hand, she fell on the farthest gunman. She buried the blade in the soft meat between the head and shoulder, angling it into the jugular. He swung back wildly and she let the movement throw her as the Antaam crashed to his knees, clutching at the gushing wound. As her feet hit the ground, magic pooled in her heels and launched her forward at the next target. That one was gifted a dragging slice from kidney to chest as she spun around him before burying it to the hilt in his heart.

That spent the last of the surprise, the third warrior swinging his axe at her head. She left the mageknife stuck in her last victim, falling to the ground to sweep at the man's legs. It felt like trying to kick a wall, pain lancing up her own leg. The soft meat behind his knee buckled slightly as the swing carried him in a half circle and she scrambled to unsheathe a mundane blade. Her head tilted slightly as a loop of chain suddenly appeared around the Antaam's throat, pulling back heavily. As he scrambled to tear it away, to slip his fingers under the links and pull in a breath, she buried a dagger in his heart and a second in his belly for good measure. She was wrenching her mageknife free before the body hit the ground. The helpful prisoner was grasping at the daggers left in the other corpse, giving her a quick lopsided smile. He was an older dwarf, dressed in expensive looking traveling clothes that had seen better days.

“Lovely evening, isn't it?” He smiled, finally freeing a blade to clutch in his shackled hands.

Whatever response she had wanted to give was lost as a shield bashed her bodily into the wall. She bounced painfully off the building, her bruised hip and shoulder screaming. Her ribs were also protesting from the impact, a few at least cracked if not broken. It made her head swim and she staggered back to her feet with swaying motions as the shield guard's spear lashed out. It cut a burning tear along her cheek from mouth to ear. Warm blood rushed out to meet the cool night air and she absently thanked the Maker he had cut below her eyes. Her dazed eyes watched the remaining two warriors squeeze past him to start swinging at her, one grabbing the length of chain between the dwarf's hands and tossing him like a toy back into the other slaves.

She had managed to hit the axe wielders with her throwing daggers earlier, but she saw the third one stuck uselessly in the shield guard's armor. That made things harder. Tiring out the warriors until the poison took effect was one thing, doing that while also avoiding the charging shield and biting spear was a whole other issue. A trembling smile stretched across her lips. She always had to make her jobs so complicated.

Dancing back, she ducked under the weapon’s swing. The side streets of Treviso weren't made to accommodate the Qunari let alone their massive weapons. That meant they couldn't reach the usual devastating speed. One upside to living in a city that used canals more than roads. It also made it harder for the two warriors to stand side by side to hunt her down. Not that they didn't try, the blades biting at her leathers as she backpedaled faster and faster. She couldn't keep that up, partly because she was getting tired and partly because she was running out of side street. The main thoroughfare would be a death sentence. Thankfully, the stupid bastards had erected their ugly barricades with chunky beams. The wood stuck out with tantalizing footholds and she used them to scramble her way up to the connecting beams of the buildings, bright bursts of energy propelling her above their swings. She peppered the warriors with her orb, the magic sparking along their flesh. They were slowing down, steadily, but she still needed a little more time. Dancing above their heads was definitely an improvement.

An agonizing blast to her shoulder spun her bodily, landing heavily on the beams and scrambling to hold on to avoid falling. The spear had been thrown beautifully, she had to admit. And then a hand was wrapped around her dangling ankle and she was ripped from her perch and slammed into the cobbled street. Her breath left her in a strangled gasp, the world spotting black as her head cracked against stone. She could barely see the Antaam axe being leveled to swing cruelly down on her, but she grasped the warrior’s leg weakly. Her magic ripped through her mercilessly, an agonized scream slipping free. The electricity caused the Qunari to shudder and jerk, staggering back a step as she kept pouring it into him. His friend was struggling to raise his own weapon, the poison finally kicking in. Better late than gore on the sidewalk.

A crossbow bolt smashed into the frozen Antaam, followed by several more at a blinding speed. That seemed like a miracle, but she wasn't going to question it. Her mark finally crashed backwards as a smoking ruin and she sluggishly crawled to her feet. Just one more big bastard and then she could close her eyes like her body was screaming at her to do. She spat out blood, the metallic tang centering her. The shield guard had scooped up an ax, the weapon pointed at her, but the shield was turned away, facing back at the slaves. The dwarf from earlier had one shackle dangling and the strangest contraption she had ever seen in his hands. That explained the bolts, sort of. Now the Antaam was nervous. Nerves made people sloppy. Her orb flickered and jumped in her hand before settling into the form of a dagger. She held both up in front of her defensively, watching the man’s eyes dart side to side. Her shoulder was white hot pain, but she pushed it down and advanced slowly. 

For his part, the guard wasted no time swinging at her. It earned him punching bolts from the dwarf, but it forced her on the back foot. Her blades bounced off his shield with grating strikes, the magic sparking and dancing along the metal. If she could get one proper hit with her mageknife, she could detonate the fizzing energy. He let out a grunt, his knee buckling as a heavy bolt punched into it. She hooked her crackling knife on the shield and tore it to the side, punching the mageknife into his chest. The magic sucked at the lightning sparking along his body before it exploded out of the blade. It threw her back and she landed heavily on the street. The heavy thud of the Qunari collapsing followed shortly after. With a giddy laugh of disbelief, she fell back to the street, blades clanging to the ground and smoking from the magic. And then a shadow fell over her and she almost screamed, about to let loose enough curses to kill a sister. Viago’s furious face loomed over her, a sharp knife in his hand.

“Mirenna de Riva, what have you done?” He hissed, voice laced with a cold rage.

She smudged a hand across her cheek, wincing as she carelessly touched the ugly cut. “Saved some civilians.”

His grip on her good arm was a sharp agony as he pulled her roughly to her feet. She leaned heavily on the wall the second he let go, head lolling to the brickwork. That definitely felt like a concussion. He was jabbing the knife towards her in the next instant and she watched it blandly. If he was going to kill her, that brief contact would have already sealed the deal. The knife felt almost comical and a weak laugh shook her shoulders. She winced at that, too.

“You idiot.” He was always good at making his voice sound like a whip. Usually felt like one, too. “You have no idea what you just stepped into.”

“An Antaam patrol? Vi, I think I can identify Qunari still.” Was she slurring her words? Probably fine.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking up to the sky as if to ask the Maker why? “No, you reckless, idiot child. You just ruined weeks of planning.”

Oh. Missing those meetings he told her to show up for had probably been a bad idea. She glanced at the huddling group of civilians still laden with chains. The dwarf was using her dagger from earlier to pry at the locks, but it was slow going. The people were scared, but they also looked at her with deep gratitude. That caused a warm flame to flicker to life in her chest.

“Shit plan that sacrifices our people like that.”

The slap he whipped across her cheek cracked loudly in the night air. It caused her to stagger, knees buckling before she slid to the ground. Maker above, it left her ears ringing. She prodded the reddening flesh, more checking to make sure the skin hadn't broken under a hidden needle or some such. It would be like him to poison her for that offense, but no. He had simply hit her. He was feeling generous. Or maybe it was concern that was making him soft. A grin stumbled across her lips and she clawed at the wall, trying to stand. Her body had other plans, pulling her further to the ground. Oh, he'd hate that. He had slapped her unconscious.  

She came to a few moments later, her world bobbing. Someone was carrying her. No, wait, someone had slung her on their back and was giving her a piggyback ride. Leather with sharp herby undertones tickled her nose. They smelled like home. She almost let out a slicing laugh of disbelief straight into Viago’s ear. Instead it was just a full body shaking wheeze. She felt his jaw twitch in displeasure.

“If you can laugh, you can walk.” He snapped.

“Poor excuse for a laugh in my opinion, sir.”

Who the fuck was that? She cast bleary eyes at the small form walking at Viago's side. It was that same dwarf who had helped her in the fight. His bizarre weapon was wrapped up in a blanket and hanging on his back. A shame, really, she wanted a good look at a crossbow with that kind of firepower. It'd be nice to have against the Antaam. He caught her eyes, giving a knowing smile.

“You liked Bianca’s work, huh?” He gestured back at the weapon. “One of a kind, sadly.”

She let out a little hum, her head lolling slightly. “Does that make me your Bianca right now, Vi?”

He dropped her suddenly, letting her crash to the street like a sack of potatoes. It set her body on fire and she gasped despite herself. He brushed his hands off on his leathers like he had been touching something filthy. She just lay there, letting the agony slowly ebb through her.

“I'd have to approve of your work, I think.” He offered dryly, looming over her again. “And I very much do not.”

He had such a knack for making his words hurt more than any knife. The sheer disappointment in his voice caused a gnawing pit to open in her stomach and she grimaced. Anyone else would be impressed a lone Crow had taken down a patrol and lived. Why couldn't he be like them? A heavy sigh escaped her as she struggled to sit up. Wouldn't be Viago if he gave her any kind of affection. Talons had to be hardasses and he had gotten a head start on that.

“I'm not going to apologize for saving people from slavery. Our people.” She huffed, standing shakily.

“Would you like to explain your reasoning to the other Talons? I'm sure they'd agree that saving a handful of strays justifies losing the intel of where and how the Antaam are shipping in their weapons and gaatlok. Of letting countless other citizens be taken and sold off because we don't know where they're being held. Of how we won't be able to strike at them like we planned because they will be waiting for it now.” His tone was pure ice.

She should have backed down at that, bowed out to his reasoning. Too bad logic had never been a close friend of hers. “I'm a stray, chalk it up to that.”

His hand twitched like he wanted to hit her again. Instead, he jabbed a finger at her face. “No, you are a Crow of House de Riva. Your every action is a reflection of your House. You have not only ruined weeks of planning between the Talons, but you may have jeopardized our standing among them.”

“Ohh,” her voice dripped with bitterness, “I'm sorry, I made you look bad. That is the greatest tragedy, you're right.”

That was a mistake, she could see it in the hard glint in his eyes. “I can't keep covering for you like this, Renn. The other Houses will want blood. How many blades must I deflect for your stupidity? How much more infighting must the Crows survive for your stubbornness? You claim it's for Antiva, but if that was true you'd keep your head down, report when told, and follow orders. You just want to play hero like a child while everyone else pays for it.”

Indignation flushed her cheeks. “Are you scolding me?”

“You act like a toddler who needs it.” He replied coolly.

“You want to act like my da so bad, go wander into the forest and get gutted like him.” She snarled, pushing past him to stalk towards the Diamond.

She had made it three steps before the regret set in, the thought of Viago dead sinking claws into her heart and leaving bloody gashes. She hated that she cared, hated how she started to turn around to try and take the words back. When her leg buckled, causing her to stagger instead, she wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse. Viago caught her arm before she could fall, forcibly keeping her standing. His face had the usual impassable scowl, the corner of his mouth twitching down as she hung there for a long moment. The words were stuck in her throat. So instead she yanked herself free, stumbling through the next few steps.

It was a long walk home, the air simmering between them. The queer dwarf followed along silently, though his brows were gently knit with concern as he glanced between the two of them periodically. Part of her wanted to ask why he, specifically, was trailing along and why it seemed like Viago was leading him straight to the Crow’s gathering place, but that would mean talking to Vi. She didn’t think she wanted to do that for the next week. When they reached the first trellis that started the road home, she hesitated.

“You gonna be able to climb that, kid?” The dwarf asked softly.

A cold calm shivered over her. “I’m a Crow.” She stated bluntly. “This is just another Tuesday.”

Without waiting for further comment, she started the agonizing climb. The man sucked air through his teeth. “Hell of a Tuesday…”

The climb was pretty bad, her gently stabbed shoulder screeching at each handhold. The ziplines weren’t much better, but she could at least loop her cape around the bar in an attempt to spread her weight better. She landed with staggering steps on the Diamond’s rooftop balcony, barely resisting the need to collapse in a heap. Viago landed silently and stalked past her without a glance.

“Find Teia.” Was all he offered her. “Mr. Tethras, follow me. We’ll discuss your business inside.”

The dwarf did look her way, offering a weak smile. “Sorry, kid.”

And then he too was gone, disappearing into the golden light that spilled from the stairs. She leaned against the wall, letting the cool stone press into her cheek. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be like this. She just wanted to go for a run, to have a few hours to herself. Vi was right, she was an idiot. She left a smear of blood behind on the wall as she pushed herself into motion, staggering past the other Crows gathered outside. A few cast curious glances at her state, but no one even twitched a finger to help her. That wasn’t unusual, but it did make her a bit more bitter.

When she did finally stumble inside the Diamond, Teia was waiting for her. The Crow ducked under her good arm, wrapping her own around the mage’s waist and supporting her further in. Renn melted into the touch, an ugly sob trapped in her throat. She had almost died, run herself ragged to save a bunch of people she didn’t even know, and that one stupid act of selflessness might’ve doomed Viago. She owed him better than that.

The Seventh Talon pulled her off to a side room where medical supplies were laid out next to a water basin; the makeshift infirmary of the Diamond. She collapsed in the chair, huffing for a moment in a vain attempt to school herself back into order. It partially worked. As Teia soaked a towel in the basin, she began shucking off her leathers. They stuck agonizingly to her shoulder, forcing her to slowly peel the ruined material away. She’d need stitches, probably for the aching cut on her cheek, too. Teia crouched in front of her, starting the arduous process of cleaning the wound. She at least had a soft touch.

“I fucked up, T.” She wobbled out, resting her face in her free hand.

“I know, little wren.” The Talon’s voice was soft, but there was a note of disapproval hidden in it.

It made her throat squeeze shut, strangling her words. “How do I fix it?”

“Vi will handle it.”

“He shouldn’t have to.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

The pressure on her shoulder tightened, but she leaned into that touch, too. She had earned that pain. It disappeared almost instantly as Teia returned to her ministrations.

“I think it’s a bit late for that sentiment, Renn.”

Her next breath was shaking, barely disguising how close she was to crying. “If he presents me to the Talons for punishment-”

“You know he never would.” Teia cut in sharply.

“He should. It was my fuck up.”

“And his responsibility to keep you updated and under control. It looks bad if he takes the blame, it looks bad if he throws you to the Crows. He has survived worse than a shameful underling and he'll survive this too.” Teia pressed her shoulder back against the chair, holding up a hooked needle. “You are far from the worst thing to happen to House de Riva.”

With trembling fingers, she tried to conjure a small flame. The magic sputtered and fizzled. The Talon pressed her lips into a thin line, leaning over to use a candle instead.

“You used too much magic.” It wasn’t a question.

A wobbling laugh slipped free. “Yeah, used a bunch to make a stupid jump then had to fight six Antaam. Fingers feel all numb and tingly still.”

“He warned you not to do that.” She pressed, needle biting into the young Crow’s flesh.

Renn flinched slightly, watching the process numbly. “It’s not that much nerve damage and I won’t feel it for a few more years. The work now is more important.”

“I wish you hadn’t picked up his stubborn workaholic streak.” The Talon sighed.

Her mouth quirked with a weak smile. They sat in silence as the wound was dealt with, Teia’s stitching even and clean. The mage pulled in a steadying breath before turning her sliced cheek to face the woman. She hated face injuries. They hurt the most. She tried to disconnect herself from the moment, focusing on better things. The warm sweet rolls from the market, strong coffee before a stake out, that euphoric moment of hanging in the air mid jump. It barely dulled the pain, but it let her sit still for the process. When she was finished, Teia took her hands in her own and gently massaged her fingers. It was a vain attempt to coax feeling back into them.

“Thanks, T.” She offered up softly.

“I’d like to stop stitching you back together, little wren.” Her mouth slanted unhappily with worry.

“I think you’d need to clip my wings for that.”

“Don’t give Vi any ideas.” She shook her head, hair bouncing with the motion. “You can go see if he’s done with his meeting. I have letters to start.”

Guilt gnawed at her as the Seventh Talon slipped away. She’d made a proper mess this time. Instead of looking for trouble, she stood on wobbly legs and walked to the water basin. She spent long minutes washing the blood from her leathers, squeezing them dry and patting them down with a towel before wrapping herself back up. She couldn’t do much to hide the stitches on her cheek, but she could cover every other injury up. She almost laughed at the notion. It was another quirk she’d inherited from Viago, the need to hide behind thick leathers and cloth as if they’d dull any blade diving for their backs. It did make her feel a little better though.

With her feet only dragging a little, she shuffled her way back out into the Diamond proper. She could see Viago and the dwarf still talking at the long table stashed in a large alcove. The smaller man was more animated, hands gesturing up and down as he talked. Viago was still as always, only his face changing with small twitches and scowls as the discussion continued. Interrupting that was maybe the worst idea she could have. So instead, she pulled herself up into the rafters of the casino with a grunt, her shoulder protesting again. She liked it up there, the golden light lost to the gloom in the dome at night. Voices bounced in curious octaves, murmurs crawling along and whispers tickling your ears. It felt like a place of secrets. With quiet steps, she crept along the rafters until she was over the table, laying down flat on her stomach so she could hear better.

“... this mage is a problem, sir. If you have any Crow to spare, someone who can help find and deal with him, maybe the-”

“My House is the wrong one to come to for this.” Viago interrupted sharply.

“I tried to find the famed Mage Killer, but I got turned away at every door.”

That caused the Fifth Talon’s eyes to tighten, his jaw twitching. There was more to that, Renn noted. Viago knew something. She leaned a little closer, hoping to catch a snippet of a whisper maybe, something that would reveal just what he knew about the First Talon’s best assassin.

“House Dellamorte is expensive, even by your standards. Your mark seems nebulous at best, as well. Claiming an Elven god disguised as a Dalish mage is trying to plunge the world into chaos by tearing open the Fade sounds ludicrous.” Viago’s tone was dismissive. He wanted this conversation over with forever ago and his patience was slipping.

“I know how it sounds, I’ve been spouting it for months now while trying to find him. But no one wants the world filled with demons and wild magic, trust me.” The dwarf sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll be in town for a week or so. If you can think of anyone who can help, a Crow you wouldn’t mind letting loose for a bit, I’ll pay good coin. I’m good for it, my title backs it up. I’ll stop by again before I leave the city, if that’s all right.”

Viago gave a minute shrug. “A wild goose chase is expensive, Mr. Tethras.”

“Good thing I’m not hunting a goose.” He sighed, offering the Talon a wave as he turned to leave.

Viago watched him go silently before his eyes turned to the papers on the table. Probably details about the potential contract. She was too far to read those, especially as he picked them up to shuffle through them. After a long moment, he crooked a finger up towards the rafters, beckoning. She swallowed thickly. Her usual smooth movement to dismount the beam to the floor below almost dropped her unceremoniously on her face as her shoulder refused to hold her weight. She barely caught herself on the edge of the table with her good arm, leaning on it in a poor attempt to cover the fall casually.

“You,” he started bluntly, pointing at her, “are to return to the apartments and stay there until I say otherwise.”

She spluttered at that, wanting to argue. She was one of the best earners for the House. She did terribly with idle time. Locking her up in her room was akin to torture. She didn’t voice a single one of those thoughts, mutely nodding. Disobeying his orders was what had caused this whole nightmarish evening. She was still furious at the plan, still wanted to scream at him over how cruel it all was. But they were both stubborn, so she stayed silent. It caused him to raise an eyebrow at her.

“Not even a single note of protest?”

She shrugged, wincing at the gesture. “I got banged up. I can mope in my room for a few days about it.”

His eyes fell back to the contract in his hand. “Off with you then.”

She didn’t need another warning, disappearing in the next breath. She was exhausted and crawling into a proper bed sounded heavenly. It would be easier to sneak a peek at that contract when he wasn’t studying it like his latest potentially poisoned meal. Besides, he couldn’t keep her in the apartments forever. She was a pain in the ass, but she was an effective pain in the ass. No one could keep up with him like she could.

Limping along, she stuck to the busier streets instead of the rooftops, dawn starting to color the sky. The apartments Viago had paid for were only a few blocks away from the Diamond, a collection of rooms for the handful of de Riva Crows that followed him from Salle to Treviso. Plenty of the fledglings stayed at the Diamond, but the proper assassins preferred their own home base. Especially assassins who belonged to a House like de Riva. Poison maniacs, the lot of them, without an ounce of trust in their veins. She gave a brief greeting to the kitchen staff, accepting a warm sweetroll from one of the chefs. Fifty-fifty on it being laced with something, but turning them down was a harder fight.

The door to her room opened on silent hinges, but she stepped over a poorly hidden tripwire waiting for her. They had to at least make it look like they tried to kill each other or they weren’t real Crows or something. The poisoned darts were a nice present from whoever had left her the surprise. A simple once over of her bed revealed a strange dusting on the pillow that she shook loose out the window. At least they had kept it simple. She collapsed in the soft embrace of her bed, the exhaustion claiming her almost instantly.

She spent the next few days in a slight daze of recovery. Simple exercises to keep her ruined shoulder from getting stiff, lighter magic usage to avoid letting her system get too used to the lack of it, and she even went back to distilling fresh poisons when the boredom set in properly. At the start of week two with no word, she took to feeding Viago’s snakes for the house staff just to have something to do outside her room. When that got old, she took to trimming and harvesting her little garden of poisonous plants strewn around the windows. Week three she felt like she might die from the lack of things to do. She was hanging halfway off her bed, head dangerously close to the floor when the air in the room shifted.

“Please tell me you have a job for me, Vi.” She whined, flailing a hand into the air.

“In a sense.” His voice came from the other side of the bed, not a single noise to his steps as he entered the room.

“Oh, that’s ominous.” She pulled herself upright back into the pillows. Part of her still simmered when she looked at him, another part screaming at her to apologize for what she had said that night. She was obstinate to both feelings. “What’s my doghouse assignment? Please tell me it’s not canal work again.”

“You’re going to leave Treviso for a while.” He started carefully.

“You can’t.” She shot back instantly, disbelief sharp. “We’re being occupied! I’m needed here-”

“You are needed where I say you are.” He snapped. “You angered a lot of people. It’s better if you aren’t lingering here to tempt any blades.”

“You’re sweeping me under the rug.” She couldn’t keep the betrayal from her voice, before a heart wrenching thought occurred to her. “When can I come back?” Can I come back?

“It’s a contract. Finish it and you can come home.” 

“What…” she faltered for a moment, “what’s the mark?”

“An elven god.” He offered blandly, passing her the official write up. It was signed in a sweeping hand. Varric Tethras. “Be ready to go within the hour.”

And then he was gone, leaving her with a contract that seemed impossible to finish. Elven gods weren’t real. He was kicking her out of her only home. It would have hurt less if he had simply buried a knife in her heart and moved on. Better to die a Crow than be cast aside. Was this supposed to be a mercy? A cruel, numbing draught to forget her with? She crumpled the pages to her chest, furious and despairing. Varric Tethras was going to regret making this contract.

[androidicks]

Childhood Memories.

You were just playing outside by yourself in your front yard when you decided to go for a walk through the neighborhood. You were mindlessly walking around until you noticed a little red headed boy in the window of his house, he looks to be about your age.

You had honestly gotten rather bored while walking around and he looked like a good person to play with. So you walked up to him and his window.

“Hello!” You cheerfully greet the boy. The red headed boy looks at you quite confused and startled at your presence, “hello?” He hesitantly responds. “What are you doing?” You ask him, he looks at the book on the desk in front of him before responding to you. “Studying.” 

‘Studying? Well that just sounds boring.’ You think to yourself, pouting at the thought. “Well that’s no fun!” You whine, the boy looks away from you, thinking of a way to respond. As he dose this you notice that there is enough space in his window for you to climb in. 

The boy looks back at the spot you were standing in, only to not find you there. Instead he found you standing right in front of him. It takes him a whole minute to register your presence in his house before going into a full blown panic, saying something about his mother. 

You laugh, “my mom doesn’t know I’m here either, so we might as well just get in trouble together!” He stops talking.

He looks about ready to cry which causes you to stop smiling and start panicking, trying to find something to calm him down with before any tears could be shed. You feel your pockets hoping to find a toy or something to give him, instead you find a cookie in your pocket and shove it in his mouth. 

The boy falls silent. You cheerfully extend out your hand and smile, “Hi! I’m (Y/N), Nice to meet you!” He looks at your hand for a second before hesitantly shaking it and introducing himself “My name is Riddle, Rosehearts. It’s nice to meet you too.” You think you have stars in your eyes “Oooh! You talk all fancy! I like that!” 

Riddle slightly giggles at your response “It’s not being fancy, it’s being polite and proper.” You tilt your head not really understanding what you’ve been told. “Oh! Like whenever my mom makes me dress all nice whenever we have guests or go somewhere fancy?” Riddle nods “Kinda like that.” 

“Ooooh.” It clicks in your head to an extent. “(Y/-!” You look out the window you came in from not sure if you heard something or not. “Did you hear something?” Riddle ask, “(Y/N)!” It’s your mom. You look at riddle and nod “Yea! My mom is calling me, I should probably go.”

You hurry towards the window and climb out of it with riddle not to far behind watching you, you look back at him from the outside of his house “I”lol be back as soon as I can!” You wave goodbye as you run in the direction of your mom’s voice. “Bye Bye Riddle! It was nice meeting you!”

The boy only watches you leave, weakly waving as you move farther out of his view. “Goodbye…”

A few days have passed since you met the red headed boy. Your mother scolded you for leaving without saying anything and you were forced to stay inside all day, not that you minded it all that much, but the thought of meeting Riddle again excited you.

After you were allowed to play outside again you immediately left, but made sure to say something to your mom before leaving. You ran through the neighborhood trying to find the house you stumbled upon last time, it took you a while since you didn’t remember how you originally got there but you made it. 

You almost yell riddle’s name if not for the fact you saw him talking to two other kids. They also looked about your age, maybe a year or two older? You’re disappointed but didn’t want to interrupt whatever they were doing, so you left to go to a nearby playground.

It was early in the evening so a lot of people happened to be in the park. You looked around for anyone to play with and saw a ginger haired boy with messy hair playing in the sandbox, he looked like he was having fun so why not join him? You walk up to the ginger haired boy “Hello!” He looks up at you, “Hi!” He’s playing with dinosaur toys.

You bend down to get in the sandbox with him “What are you playing?” You ask him and he proudly shows you the toys in his hands “Dinos!” He says enthusiastically.

You giggle “Can I play?” He hands you a pterodactyl toy and starts to make a mess in the sand as you laugh and copy him.

While you didn’t get to play with riddle like you wanted, you did have fun with a new friend today. 

Memory fragment 1/???

⋙ Memory fragment 2/???