#I figured wings worked better so I could take a chunk out of one of them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

factorialsotherfandoms · 8 months

Note

Questions!! Anything for Philza's thing with the Ender King in the xcom au? Really liked what I spotted in the big lore summary and it only made me more curious, especially this one bit; [Others on the mission noticed the shockwave. Philza also heard the screaming, and was the one to connect the figure Cellbit saw to the Elders, as one of the very few people with personal experience with them.] 1. Personal experience?? 2. He specifically could *hear* the screaming? :o

Hello! And thank you! It's fun!!! Kinda. I mean horrifying, but fun. I'm still working on how it fits into the rest of his backstory, and also still working out the details, but here's the little summary...

2) this is easier to answer. Philza is... significantly more psionically sensitive than he realises. Other people can sort of tell it, but he just. Thinks it's all normal. He can't /use/ it, but has somewhat of an awareness of psionic (aka setting magic) going on around him. Kinda like a sixth sense? He's aware of the magic around him, but can't access it himself. But he still can't fully perceive it like, say, Cellbit can. Who is actually trained in this shit. Rumours would suggest that Philza probably has some demonic blood somewhere in his ancestry, but too far back to trace it easily

Personal experience! Philza has /history/ with the Elders, and with the Elder known as the Ender King specifically. During the initial invasion and the first few years after, Philza was extremely active in terms of fighting the aliens - and the Federation (ie the government the aliens installed of their own people and biological experiments and stuff). The Elders were also, in the early war, much more active. Their disease had not progressed so far, and so would occasionally be seen.

Very, very occasionally. By maybe one in a thousand people.

But they have been seen.

(And this is long so your answer is under the cut)

So we have the Angel of Death and the Blood God, a pair of resistance fighters of terrifying fame and all that. Usually together, sometimes alone, occasionally with allies. Mostly Fit - no cool nickname - but other allies too. And one time, they break into this really, really high security facility. Because, you know, blowing shit up.

They split to explore, Philza finds the centre, and in it is an Elder - one we know is the Ender King, named such after he was awarded one of the other conquered planets to rule. They fought. Philza did not win but he did escape, destroyed all his shit on the way out setting back research so far the Ender King was removed from the project for his failures, and the Ender King was /furious/. He became obsessed with Philza, to an extent, and has decreed he wants that /specific/ human melted down and turned into DNA goop and a new body made for him from it. Clearly someone who could escape him alive and ruin all his shit and his job and have him become a laughing stock amongst his peers has some innate quality that makes him better than other humans - and the Ender King wants it for himself.

And thus began a period where Philza was hunted.

And, eventually, caught. Cornered and with nowhere to run or fly to this time - as he had escaped in previous interactions - Philza fought back. He did decent damage, and well, but he was effectively fighting a god, alone and without half of his kit, and with no space to take off and fly.

He was cut down, but not immediately taken for processing. The Ender King had been physically punished for Philza's destruction of the labs, and so Philza was going to suffer before he died.

And the most annoying thing? Philza's big, beautiful wings.

They were not taken, but they were destroyed. Philza's back was flayed open, the bones of his wings shattered and the flesh of them ripped into. The Elders are weak, but Philza was already injured and at his mercy. He cuts chunks of the wings away - samples which would eventually be used to make his egg/Avatar, though other human DNA as well as alien would be added in - letting them heal only to cut more.

The torture lasts days, maybe longer, before the Ender King... Disappears. (Philza does not know why, but I the writer am aware that his illness had progressed far enough that he had to go into stasis to await a body - however because he pushed it while his chosen samples were retrieved, he was unconscious when he went into stasis and so unable to communicate where he left the rest of the person to be melted down)

And then Philza is left in a cell. He, too, is furious, but injured and exhausted and it is everything he has not to die. Techno and Fit rescue him, get him home, but the bones and his wings have already started healing wrong, and Philza is far too weak for someone to break them again. And so, while he does heal, he's left unable to even slightly fly. (post-canon they'll find an actual wing specialist and do the breaking and resetting and Philza will never be able to fly very far, but will be able to do little bits again with a lot of surgery and physio he just doesn't have time for during the story).

It's a long recovery. Once he has recovered he returns to the fight for another year or so - why he vanishes into legend is not about his wings or the Ender King, but something else.

And, well, he hasn't seen another Elder - or any sort of Ethereal - since then. It's been years, but he still has the scars all over his body. Other things have become his more common nightmares, but the Ender King still haunts his dreams.

And then he hears one scream when they kill that thing. And he knows why it's familiar - except pain not rage - but refuses to accept it until Cellbit mentions. It's not the Ender King, but it's obviously something like him.

(If you've read the notes, there's mention of an Avatar - AKA a former egg which has grown, killed, and then body possessed by an Elder - which singles Philza out and keeps trying to mind control him. That they eventually do perma-kill. This is the Ender King, possessing a body he made partially from chunks of Philza's flesh that he carved out of his back and wings while torturing him. And sure there's horror and panic attacks and focusing that target lets the others prepare, but Philza finally kills the thing which took him, tortured him, and stole the skies from him.)

(It doesn't give him the skies back - as I said that's surgery and physio and he'll never truly be as free to fly as he once was, but he'll get little hops at least - and he's in pain from the injuries for the rest of his life, and the nightmares will never leave. But the thing obsessed with him and hunting him is no more, and he is safe from it, and it dies by his hand.)

#qsmp x xcom #ask and answer #thank you so much for the question it made me very happy #the egg made from philza is long dead i am afraid #not sure what this means for the other hardcore gods but eh

14 notes · View notes

matan4il · 1 year

Note

Why I will never give up on Canon Buddie..... Listen I am just a little straight girl who grew up on romance novels. You want Eddie with a women. Well, I mean Vanessa was perfect if you were a writer.

One dare I say she was a better version of Anna and 2 with a little manipulation she could be the girl version of Buck. I mean no one ever could, so don't come for me with pitchforks I just meant in general. She was beautiful, fun, a little heartbroken and didn't add stress to Eddie. Telling the story?? So easy it's a tale as old as time. She shares his culture so let's fake date to throw our tias off. Become friends. Maybe meet Chris. Maybe hesitate to do more because she's jaded and worried it won't work out and how will that effect Chris. Like I have seriously read this story a million times yet the writers never pull the trigger.

My second thing. Again I am a moderately attractive straight single girl. It is not that hard for me to find a relationship. I can throw a rock and find companionship you know?? No disservice to us straights it's just facts. So the fact that the writers intentionally get this wrong while being so loud about the couch screams volumes to me. Especially when you couple it with the fact these 2 do not wing man for each other, talk about sex lives and only refer to the significant other to tell them to dump them. That is the loudest part about their living in each other's back pocket BFF forever relationship. I mean Eddie couldn't even process Buck taking care of himself.

In conclusion 911 if you want me to stop shipping them this all on you. I mean I will never stop. But you could at least try!!

Awww, Nonnie! :D Welcome to the hopeless romantics club! We got comfy cushions for you, as well as cookies. ;)

Regarding Vanessa, yeah. I have seen plenty of rom coms that start off with the exactly interaction she and Eddie had. He's not ready, she's not ready, they come to the date with the intent to let each other down easy, and when they realize they were never an option for the other person, it intrigues them. It could have easily developed in the direction of "instead of going through this repeatedly, how about we fake date to get our Tias off our cases?" and slowly falling for each other. TBH, I wouldn't have been surprised if that's what 911 would go with, since so many shows would. I'm glad it didn't, that the point really was to help Eddie progress on his romantic journey rather than set him up with yet another LI.

I agree with you! I already thought it was eyebrow raising when 911 let Buddie be single throughout the entirety of s3 and a respectable chunk of 4a. Now in s6, they're both once again very single. And we're talking young, good looking, heroic firefighters. It should not be hard for them to find romance, yet out of almost 5 seasons of them being on the show together, roughly 2.5 they spend with both of them being single men. When they're the only single members of the main cast! That is VERY unusual, it's not the route most TV shows would take with their only single characters, you know? That Buck and Eddie are directly responsible for this state of double singleness a part of the time just makes it all more hilarious. XD

I've said it before, I will always ship Buddie. Which means as long as the show is on air and both of their characters are alive, I will hope for canon Buddie. But even if that doesn't happen, Buddie is canon to me. The show has written and filmed their epic love story, and I can't unsee that no matter what. In my head, it will always be just a matter of time before these two morons figure it out.

Thank you so much for this ask, lovely! Have a wonderful day. As always, my ask tag. xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #evan buck buckley #911 #ask #anon ask #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

52 notes · View notes

garciaasfluffypen · 2 years

Text

bright beginnings pt 7.

pairing: single dad!joseph quinn x fem!reader wc: 1.5k warnings: none

part six • part eight

a/n: IM SORRY IM SORRY I DIDNT NOTICE THIS WENT INTO THE BOTTOM OF MY QUEUE BECAUSE MY DUMBASS DIDNT SCHEDULE THE POST anyway enjoy a joe pov as a lil treat

being holed up in an office all day was not something joseph anthony francis quinn had figured would be in his books. but he found himself taking over the daycare he had devoted his life to, making it his lifes mission to revamp it from the inside out and make it better.

from his short time as owner, there were a gazzilion things he would like to change, including some staffing issues that were bothering him. out of the ten girls that worked there, y/n, destiny and claire were the three girls who were full time, meaning that they got the bulk of the hours. that had to change. there were two girls who dropped, saying they didn't have time to work much due to university, which left eight girls left to work. meaning if he split all the bulk of the hours with the three full timers… that left the part time girls jack shit. he felt horrible only giving some of the girls only ten hours a week, but there was only so much he could do without making more of them full time. he had been stuck in the office for about three hours now trying different versions of the schedule to figure out what would make the girls happy. bringing the full timers down from 45 to 32 opened up a chunk of hours he could divvy out between the other girls based on their availability, which could make it a bit easier. four of the eight girls had tight schedules due to uni, meaning he could potentially get a few more girls who were requesting more hours the hours they wanted.

but that was a headache for another day.

shutting his laptop, joe decided to step out into the playroom, where y/n was in charge of today. it was his idea to start having the girls rotate through the rooms, so that way all the kids could get acclimated to each staff member in case there needed to be any sort of coverage. so far, it seemed to be working well, especially because the twins started to open up to a few of the other girls rather than just sticking to y/n’s side all day. granted, days in the playroom were the harder days, because all riley and thomas wanted to do was play with her. it’s what started joe talking to them every day before coming in to remind them that yes, you can play with y/n but you need to let the other boys and girls play with her too. it went well for approximately five minutes before he realized they were wholeheartedly attached to her, and by god if he didn’t do something about it the twins would hate him forever.

he had to admit, she was cute. if it wasn’t for him being caught up in a messy divorce, he totally would have already asked you out on a date. but he had to hold himself off, knowing that julia would one hundred percent use that against him because that’s the kind of person she was. he didn’t know why they had even gotten together in the first place, not counting the fact that she wanted to appease her mother. set-up relationships never ended up working well, he found, and most of them reminded him of HR relationships- the ones you could always tell were fake. the ones that made people think love was real, only to shatter them to pieces when it came out that surprise, your faves weren’t actually together.

love was most definitely not that. and not what he had with julia.

before he could go down that wormhole again, his phone buzzed.

[ grace!! - 3:30pm ] joeee what are you doing tonight???? i miss youuuuuu

grace was one of his best friends from school. he and wesley had taken her under their wing the second she stepped into LAMDA, and the three of them had become inseparable. she had moved to london from america to pursue acting, considering it was one of the best acting schools in the world. joe definitely missed being on stage, but he had made the promise to himself that he would make more of an effort to provide for his kids, since acting could wait until they were a bit older.

[ 3:31pm ] do you miss me, or miss the kids? lol [ grace!! - 3:32pm ] obviously you, you’re my bestie! [ grace!! - 3:32pm ] but seriously what are you doing, rehearsal was canceled tonight [ 3:33pm ] not much, probably watching frozen with the kids and trying to avoid watching steve and maggie. you wanna pop over for tea? xx [ grace!! - 3:33pm ] is that even a question??? i’ll be there at five :)

looking over at the clock, joe figured he could pop out to the floor for about an hour before taking the twins home. saturdays were pretty light if he were being honest, so it probably wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he left a few hours earlier. most of the kids were gone by six anyway, so him leaving an hour early shouldn’t be horrid.

and then he could talk about his crush on y/n.

grace was there through the whole julia ordeal, meaning she knew all the ups and downs and the ahem “marriage” that julia’s mother basically shoved down joe’s throat, placing the ring in his hand and telling him to “get a goddamn move on”. yes, the loves of his life came out of it, but he hated julia and her dramatics and the need to make the divorce so much more than it needed to be. it was driving him up the walls, including the stupid custody agreement they were working on. he was doing his best to keep a level head, but it was getting to the point where he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. but grace was the level headedness he needed, always helping him figure everything out with wording and when to meet with lawyers and everything. she was definitely a light in his life, and he loved her to bits.

but his real loving nature was saved for y/n.

not that she’d ever get with him. he could always pretend that she was indeed flirting back with him. because while he really liked her, he was her boss. there were so many issues with that. but he also owned the daycare. and they didn’t have an HR person because it was a mom and pop shop. hell, he literally runs the facebook page. he could do whatever he wanted, right? … right?

“daddy!”

joe held his arms out as riley and thomas ran up to him, almost tackling him to the ground with their combined force.

“my angels! how has your day been?”

riley looked up at joe with her adorable little doe eyes. “daddy come play?”

“i gotta go talk to some of the lovely ladies a bit, but then we’re gonna go see grace!”

“grace comin?”

“yes, grace is coming for tea.”

out of the corner of his eye, joe noticed y/n turn away and start picking up in the playroom, trying to busy herself and not pay attention to the conversation. of course he would go and mention grace in front of her, after flirting with her so openly. just his fucking luck.

“grace bring wes?” thomas’ face lit up in excitement at the idea of two of his favorite people coming over.

“wes is at work, bub. he’ll come tomorrow, okay?”

“otay.”

“let me go say hi to the girls before we pop out, okay? go play with the toys.”

as joe rose from his crouching position, he noticed that y/n was stuck in the storage closet. stupidly, he decided to go around to all the other classrooms before coming back to the playroom to check on her before they popped out. the other girls were doing okay, which was good to hear. everything seemed to be going good since the rotation started, and it was showing. he stepped back into the playroom to gather riley and thomas, noticing that destiny was in, y/n being nowhere in sight. upsetting as that was for him, he did promise the kids that he would get them home to see grace. and besides, he really needed to talk to someone about his crush on y/n.

the ride home wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, and the twins were relatively quiet but bubbling with excitement as they got closer and closer to the flat. soon as they saw grace’s car in the driveway, they started giggling and screaming, and joe couldn’t help but chuckle. grace held out her arms as the kids ran into them, picking them both up with ease and swinging around in a circle. she smiled at joe as he grabbed the bags from the passenger seat and took them inside, setting stuff down in the front room and taking them all into the kitchen to get the tea ready.

“so, who is she?”

“what?”

“you only wear your nice shirt anywhere when there’s someone you want to impress.” grace raised an eyebrow. “so who are you trying to impress, joe?”

joe sighed. “we’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“oh, i bet.”

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn rpf #bright beginnings universe #an i (queue) of 187

51 notes · View notes

sydthetiel · 11 months

Text

Update Time!

I'm not completely out of the woods yet, but some serious burdens/guilt have been lifted.

Family friend came again today, brought me another grocery order, which has a new can opener (this one better fucking work) and some more cold foods to last the week and stuff. Eggs, salad, etc. I can feel a little better about what I'm putting into my body besides canned crap, without having to spend hours to make it.

She helped me get a huge chunk done of what all those aides were supposed to do with me. We went through foods and organized, cleaned my "ration rack" (which is, as it sounds, a rack which holds the rations for days I can't get out of bed. Chips, crackers, croissants, poptarts, cookies, etc. All the snackies, and some extra drinks, so I no longer have to sleep with all of them.) Ahhh wonderful. It's also out of my path now for trying to get to my office where Syd is currently located. No more squeezing and side stepping. Mentally, that's a load off. Clutter and mess trigger my OCD bad enough to hit me real hard with depression and hopelessness. It's the biggest reason why hoarder Rex is so bad for me.

Syd's new water bowl came. As expected, it was too big to fit in such a tiny hospital cage. It was a two person job to take the top off and install it, and it takes up so very much of the cage. I held Syd, while friend put the top of the cage back on. The sight was so fucking depressing. Friend says to me "I'm gonna buy her a bigger cage." And of course, cages are expensive, so I told her that, and explained this one is so small because it's literally all I could afford, and I feel like the worst dad ever for it. And of course, at this point, we're both crying, because my baby girl deserves better than a tiny fucking cramped piece of shit where she can't even spread her fucking wings, but it's impossible to bring her home cage into my office. It ain't gettin' up the stairs, or through the doorways. Dear fucking gods, no. Friend insists, "We're gonna order a cage today, on your phone, before we leave." And she did. It'll be here in roughly a week. It should (better) be big enough, and it's quite lovely. It has a stand, so I can store her food and all that, and will make an exceptional hospital cage, where Bean can flap and be happy and well cared for. I am in fucking tears. Her gofundme is still up, for vet stuff, but this is fucking HUGE for us! She also said she'll take us to the vet for another Lupron injection, since Syd's horny again, and said she'd pay for the shot!! <333

Between sobbing about trying to figure out how to pay for van repairs, a new hot water heater, and a new furnace, and a shut off notice for the electric because once again Rex didn't pay it, not having to worry about shelling out an extra $100 or so on a hormone injection is just... such a fucking weight lifted.

On top of that, Daddy's getting some needs met, too now! She assembled my shoe rack! No more bending or tripping over all my shoes! They're right there! Aaaand I finally have my new massager. It's been sitting in a fucking filthy box for like two years, and she helped me get it clean, so now I have that. As soon as I got situated in bed tonight, I tried it out. The pleasure screams I felt as it massaged the knots out of my agonizing back and shoulders is just... oh gods. Probably sounded like a whole ass orgy up in here. Actual goddamn pain relief! PAIN RELIEF!!!!!!

I ate twice today, and finally had some decent hydration, too. Huge boost. I no longer detest the idea of my chicken and gravy tray. Meal plan for tomorrow!

Sunday, she's coming back, and we're gonna tackle some more stuff. I can't fucking wait. I mean, I would really love a weekend with my girlfriend, and some rest, but also, just... a clean environment is so fucking good for my mental health. And it makes me happy that they'll take all the outdated foods I won't eat, so I don't have to feel like a douchebag for wasting it and throwing it out. They're happy to eat it, and I feel like I can give something back for all the help, while also clearing out all the space.

We got a game plan for downstairs, and will start making dents in that.

But honestly... This huge chunk done today is... the kind of support I needed to feel like I might actually survive? I mean... it's still grim. The debts, the bills, the taxes not being paid. The gofundme is still just as fucking urgent as ever in order to not go homeless. In order to get heat and hot water and transportation back. But I don't feel quite as stranded and alone.

We most definitely still need like $2,000 for the van repairs, and $3,000 for the water heater and furnace, and uh... like $6,000 for the backed taxes and another $5,000 for this year's taxes.

But I don't have to cry about not being able to give Syd a better cage, or Lupron, and I have some better access for my own self care. Pain relief is so wonderful. Especially when healthcare providers are failing me so miserably.

Gofund.me ($5 min donation according to their standards) Other options (as much or as little as you can spare <3): Ven.mo: @rroche90 Pay.pal: Rory Roche (Can't miss my portrait of Dean Winchester!)

#birds #cockatiels #cockatiels of tumblr #bird dad #birds of tumblr #sydney bean #birb #birdsoftumblr #cockatiel #update

3 notes · View notes

arcadejohn127-9 · 4 years

Note

Okay so I have a personal head cannon that demon hunters are a thing in the Obey Me World. So I wondering if you could do the brother and undatables finding out that a bunch on demon hunters kidnapped MC while they were in human world because they found out of MCs packs. Your writing is so good, honestly this is one of my favorite Obry Me accounts.

Thank you! It gives me pride for being one your favourites!

I love expanding the world of obey me and idea of hunters is one that seems realistic in a world of demons and angels and just in general, really interesting. Before I joined writing on Tumblr I was actually a Wattpad author and one my books was about a monster hunter who got in a love square with Frankenstein's monster, Dr Jekyll and Mr hyde

Never finished it but it was fun concept so any type of supernatural hunter already just wins in my department

Do I have a thing for making the demons violent and showing off a more aggressive and bloody side to them? Yes, I really do

Warning: kidnapping, gore-ish, violence, religious themes, angst, guns, mentions of torture, long

Your breathing grew heavier as the crushing feeling on your chest continued to grow, your heart slamming against your ribcage. Begging to be released from its suffocating prison. If it weren't for the lump in your throat you were sure your heart would of leapt out of it.

your feet pounded against the street beneath you; you were running faster than you’ve ever ran before. How did it get to this situation? well, you didn't have time to reminisce but to make a long story short - a group of demon hunters revealed themselves to you and are now chasing you down as you refused to cooperate. they wanted to use you for your pact and you didn’t want to be involved, especially seeing as they were literal demon hunters! they were going to kill your friends!

but sadly, fate was not on your side. your ankle twisted to the side, pain shooting up from your ankle all the way to your knee. rope surrounded you, you thrashed against the net as your body slammed to the floor. The last thing you saw was the hunter tower above you, the butt of their gun coming down on your head.

when you finally woke up you already had a gun back in your face, you tried to escape but you were forced backwards. chains rattling behind you. you looked behind you to see you were chained to a cross, both your wrists and ankles were bound.

Your situation only grew worse when the hunter Infront of you snarled down at you. Demanding you used your pacts, spitting on your face. You thrusted forward, matching their snarl as you bared your teeth at them. Demon mannerisms have rubbed off on you but it wasn't doing you any good. The gun clicked, unlocking off safety mode.

Your heart sunk immediately.

"Use your pact or else."

You could only hear the blood rushing through your ears. Trembling as their finger slowly pressed on the trigger. You knew they were going to kill the brother's if you did but you were terrified that were going kill you. You shook your head, letting it hang low as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

You kept refusing to use your pact and summon the seven demons. Every time you refused they'd hurt you; kicking you, slamming the guns butt down on your head, throwing your head back on the cross. You could barely hear what they said, they just kept screaming at you. Calling you filth and a traitor to mankind.

Despite all the pain you were grateful they weren't killing you. You just had to keep pushing your luck. You couldn't summon them no matter how scared you were. You refused. You couldn't do it.

But fortunately, Magic doesn't always act the way you want it to. Your soul - your entire being BEGGED to be saved. You wanted to save yourself, you desperately tried to spark at the chains and remember any spells but your mind was at a blur. nothing was processing.

You cried out when you saw the large magic circle appear on the floor. You tried desperately to close the summoning circle, cursing to yourself. You demanded your magic to listen to you but it wouldn't work. The brothers symbols appearing in each part and soon enough, they appeared in full demon form.

"FIRE-!"

Lucifer:

his wings blocked at the rapid bullets going their way

His whip quick to come out and wrap around a hunters wrists, he twisted his hand around it and pulled the poor hunter towards him

"This isn't very welcoming, now is it? How bold."

the hunter went flying, the brothers dodging in time

Mammon:

He smirked, a bullet between his teeth and more between his fingers

Steam was drifting off them but he just crushed the metal bullets with no other thought

"How nice of ya to give me a gift~! You really know how to make a demon happy."

He spat out the last bullet and it went flying, hitting a hunters eye

Levithan:

The ground shook beneath you, many hunters missing their shot at his brothers

A crab like beast bursted out of the ground, sewer sludge splattering on the floor

It swiped and grabbed at the hunters, screams filling the space, bodies snipped in half in seconds

"You're all worse than Normies! You took the wrong human from the wrong demons!"

he back hand slapped a hunter that approached him, growling

Satan:

He leapt off the crab, grabbing the nearest hunter to him by the head

Their neck snapped to an odd angle and they immediately dropped

"This isn't how I expected to spend my evening but you took my reading partner....you won't receive my mercy."

He shoved his clawed hands through their chests and spines, ripping out the first organ or bone he could grab

He didn't lie, he didn't show an ounce of mercy

Asmodeus:

His wings flapped behind him, he dragged his claws along the backs of the hunters he flew past

Giggling as they screamed in pain

"Aww I'm just flirting, was it really that bad?"

He pouted before swiping at their faces

Shoving another hunter towards his more violent brother

Whilst he had no issue letting himself get wild, he saw how scared you looked

He didn't want to get too dirty or else how could he comfort you?

Beezlebub:

Beel could be ruthless if TRUELY provoked

And hearing your whimpers when he arrived stirred furious anger within him

When he finally saw your beaten state it made him snap

Hungry for blood

Hunters head being crushing with ikr hand

"You don't even look appealing to eat, you're worst than Solomon's cooking."

He took a chunk out of one hunter when they aimed at one of his brother's

Refusing to let his family get hurt

Belphegor:

We all know he's cold blooded

So it was no surprise blood was gushing everywhere

His dream dust filling his area and nightmares surrounded the hunters

"They're mine....and yet you stole them and hurt them, you're disgusting."

hunters would disappear into the mist and not come back out alive

Bodies littering the floor as he swooped through

As soon as things got gory your eyes were sealed shut, trying to shut out the sound of flesh tearing and screams of agony. Whimpering as you thought about the brothers smiling faces, how gentle and soft they usually were. Chanting in your head that they were here to save you, you were safe, they're still them.

You screamed as your body was lifted off the platform you were on, the cross rising. You were now fully crucified; feet slipping as you struggled against the cross. The chains were barely supporting your weight so you just dangled, fear rising in you.

Mammon charged towards you, his brothers continuing to fight against the hunters. He ripped the chains out of the cross, you fell right into his arms, your heart thumping against your chest.

"look at what they did to you....I shouldn't of protected ya, I hope you'll learn to forgive me - they busted you up real bad."

He caressed your cheek; eyes glaring at your busted lip and the many bruises forming on your face. You winced when his hand touched the side of your head, he recoiled feeling something warm on his palm. It was blood. YOUR blood.

He almost broke down right there and then, looking at how hurt you were - he couldn't handle it.

"thanks...that makes me feel so much better." You let out a pained laugh, hoping to make him feel better.

He only frowned more, softly rubbing his thumb on your cheek. It was obvious he was struggling to keep himself calm. You held his hand, showing off your best smile.

"i don't blame any of you, the hunters did this, okay? You didn't do anything wrong."

Your sweet moment was ruined when the 6 brothers backed all bumped into the two of you. Forming a protective ring as the hunters surrounded them; it seemed like there was no end.

You raised your shaky hands, magic swirling around your wrists and to your fingertips. You barely had enough strength to put on a little light show but you weren't going to just let the demons defend you without even trying to help.

It your lucky day as suddenly, the hunters hideout doors bursted open. You could barely make out the outside but there was blood coating every wall, steam coming off dead bodies. Soon enough four figures emerged and your heart almost leapt out of your throat.

Lucifer growled as he strangled a hunter, turning his attention to the new comers.

"I'm surprised you came so late, espically with the company with you, my lord."

Diavolo laughed, his hands coming together as his magic flared brightly. Barbatos had his arms behind his back, smiling to all of you.

"Forgive our tardy timing, these hunters are determined."

"don't forget us, though I may of caused us to take our time, it's been so long since I've fought this many people."

Solomon adjusted his sleeves, his many pacts glowing against his skin. Simeon, unlike the others, looked completely untouched by the chaos. Smiling as he kept his hands together.

"I beg for your forgiveness (Y/N), It appears we've angered Lucifer more than the hunters have."

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Time slowed down within the room, only the hunters going still

Their movements frustratingly slow

"I think it's best to clean up this situation whilst you take (Y/N) back, they've seen enough."

He looked at Lucifer, both men nodding

The prince moved freely through the frozen room, eyeing the amount of hunters

Barbatos:

He bowed to the brothers, offering you a comforting smile

"I must agree with my lord, things will get rather unpleasant."

He slowly slipped off his gloves

He approached you, gently handing you his gloves and patted your shaky hands

A silent request to keep them safe for him

Solomon:

The wizard blew the steam off his wand

Smirking as he pointed it towards the magic still present around your wrists

"Isn't it good I came along? You're going to fall sleep if you keep using your powers, little apprentice, let me open a portal for you."

Just as he finished talking he summoned a portal to the devildom

He gave you a small salute

Simeon:

He hastily rushed towards you all

Checking on each brother for any serious harm, thankful they were okay

He turned his attention to you, doing the same

"all is going to be okay, I promise, I'll bring over some desserts when we get back - tell Luke I won't be long, I know he's anxious about your safety."

He walked you to the portal, caressing your hands

You got a gentle push towards the portal

Once you were all through the portal, you completely shattered. Crumbling to the floor as you broke down sobbing. The brothers tried to approach you again but your nostrils flared, face scrunching up in disgust. They reeked of blood and guts.

Beels mouth was covered in blood, flesh between his fangs. Levithans hands trembling from adrenaline red and stained with blood. Belphegor was showered in the red liquid, a feral look still in his eye. Mammon was the most clean out of all of them but he had blood dripping down him. Asmodeus had flesh on his nails and blood on his cheek. Satan looked just as drenched as belphegor, his shoulders shaking with anger. And finally, Lucifer was the second cleanist but he still was no better than the others.

"i need time to- time to calm down....just.... please just wash."

They all accepted your wishes, hesitant but they understood your predicament.

You laid on the floor, chains still on your wrists and ankles. They felt so tight on your limbs, you whimpered as they scratched at your skin. It took one small burst of magic to make them drop; you were finally free.

You continued to just lay on the floor, shakily grabbing a nearby pillow. Inhaling the sweet comforting scent, letting it fill your scenes. Everytime you even smelled a faint swift of the gore-ish scene from before you just took in another deep inhale.

You laid there for what felt like hours. Silently crying as you hugged the pillow.

You grounding yourself. Reminding yourself you were safe and back in your room. The brothers were safe and they weren't mindless beasts.

You rolled on your side, something poking your hip. It was your phone. You pulled it out from your pocket and began to type, messaging Luke that Simeon was okay aswell as you, apologizing for not seeing him in person. You sent him a quick selfie of you smuggled into your pillow and tried to look somewhat happy. Hoping it'll comfort him.

It wasn't a moment later until you heard a knock at your door. You questioned who it was.

"we're all clean now, meet us in the living room if you want....I made your favourite drink~" Asmo's voice was soft, gentle on your ringing ears.

A small smile appeared on your face. Shuffling out of your room still hugging your pillow, trailing after the lustful demon. Soon enough, you were both entering the living room.

The room was dim, the fireplace being it's only lighting and warming the room up nicely. There must of been something with the wood as it smelled so comforting. The brothers all sat along the sofa, Some on the floor. Everyone had their own drink, blankets and pillows surrounding them.

You curled up in the middle of the sofa, letting yourself be engulfed in multiple hugs. Everyone touching you in some way and you all just sat there. In peaceful silence as you just hugged.

You really needed this....

"thank you for saving me."

"We'll always save you"

"you can always count on us-!"

"I won't let this happen to you again, I promise to protect you better."

"no one is allowed to touch you like that, I won't let them."

"You don't need to thank us, darling."

"I will always make sure you're safe, no Matter what."

"I won't fail you again."

you all hugged each other even tighter, embracing each others comfort and warmth. Tears falling and soothing words shared, each brother did their best to be strong. But even they couldn't stop themselves from shedding tears when the adrenaline died.

They almost lost you. You were kidnapped and hurt because of your connection to them. They were never going to let you get harmed again, no matter the cost.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me luficer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me imagine #obey me headcanon #obey me x reader #angst

789 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Nie Huaisang is the cutest thing monsters have ever seen, they can be yao dragons or giant turtles one look at nhs and they want to feed hug or kidnapt him nmj trainning involved recovering his baby brother from every monsters nest around qinge

ao3

“I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, his teeth gritted together and his arms shaking from the strain of holding Baxia up. “He’s mine.”

The massive tiger glared down at him over Baxia’s blade, currently stuck in its teeth, and growled something.

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said. His legs were shaking now, too. “I know, trust me, I know! I’m human, he’s – young, yes, yes, I know. But he’s my little brother! I’m not giving him up!”

The tiger spat out the blade, knocking Nie Mingjue backwards on his ass.

“And when you change your mind?” the tiger demanded. “Will you abandon him then?”

“No!” Nie Mingjue exclaimed. “Never! He’s my brother!”

“Mark your words,” the tiger said ominously. “Or else.”

It turned and stalked off, its tail waving arrogantly in the air, until its towering white form disappeared into the distance.

Nie Mingjue sighed in relief. “Huaisang?” he called, and a small head popped out of the nest the tiger had started building, blinking owlishly at him. “Come on, come to da-ge. It’s time to go home.”

“But Master Tiger said we were going to play…”

“Yes, well, he wanted to play for too long,” Nie Mingjue said. “Only a few centuries, give or take. Let’s go.”

It started back when Nie Huaisang was born.

No, more accurately, it started when Nie Mingjue’s father fell in love with someone he probably oughtn’t have, which according to the sect was not a terribly uncommon problem for him to have, and decided to bring home a bride.

Nie Mingjue could still remember the first time he’d seen the Second Madame Nie. They’d all been lined up to greet her, all the sect and close members of the clan in rows according to rank, Nie Mingjue fidgeting in the inside of the house proper in his first tangle with formal clothing outside of the discussion conferences. She had come sweeping in with her head held as high as a princess, seductive and bewitching.

Every movement had been perfect, the eyes of all the men fogging over in lust and the women in admiration – or visa versa, depending on their personal preferences – and a wicked smile had lit up her face when she had stepped across the threshold, officially becoming the sect leader’s wife, and maybe everything would have gone along with whatever plan she’d had back then if she hadn’t next seen him.

“Oh, look at you,” she exclaimed, rushing over to pinch Nie Mingjue’s cheeks between her hands. “What a delectable little morsel you are!”

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said, staring up at her with big round somewhat-worried eyes.

“You charming little dumpling,” she said. “You adorable mouthful of meat! Spoonful of egg yolk!”

Nie Mingjue cast his eyes around to see if anyone would be willing to help him.

“My eldest son,” Nie Mingjue’s father said, not without pride – albeit perhaps a puzzled sort of pride. “He’s probably just about old enough to come to the forecourt, if you don’t want him to live with you –”

“Oh no,” she said. “He’s definitely living with me.”

And so she stayed, and Nie Mingjue stayed with her, and she doted on him in a way he found pleasant if mildly disconcerting. Within a year, she was pregnant, and irritated with it; six months after that, she was round and complaining, even though Nie Mingjue solemnly assured her that she was as beautiful as ever.

“This is your fault, you know,” she told him, and he blinked at her. “It is! Don’t get me wrong, your father’s a charming bull when he wants to be, and of course he fucks like a champion stud, but I stayed here for you, my little cabbage roll, my charming chunk of liver.”

She patted her belly.

“That means this here is all because of you. So you’d better take responsibility!”

Nie Mingjue considered the issue for a little. The argument seemed plausible, so he raised his hands and put them on her rounded stomach. “I will take care and watch over him for all my life,” he vowed, and the baby inside kicked his hand in response, sealing the pact.

“Oh you are so cute,” she said, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “My darling pork bun! My little fish cake! I could eat you right up, if only you were just a little bit older!”

When Nie Huaisang was born, she disappeared in a welter of blood, but Nie Mingjue’s oath remained.

The trouble started after that.

“You can’t raise a cub like that properly,” the winged lion argued, bating its wings as if that would help it make its point better.

Nie Mingjue glared at him. “Watch me!”

“It’s for your own good, little human. He needs his own kind –”

“I’m not listening to a treasure-seeker!”

The lion scowled at him. “I’ll have you know that most humans think I’m good luck!”

“You’re not trying to steal most humans’ little brothers, are you?!”

The winged lion sighed, a deep sound, so very noble and long-suffering that Nie Mingjue couldn’t resist the urge to lift his foot and kick the lion right in the paw.

“Brat!”

“Don’t care!” he shouted. “You leave my brother alone! He’s my responsibility, not yours! Piss off!”

“You can’t even feed him properly -”

“I’ll figure it out!” Nie Mingjue bared his teeth and wished he was old enough for a saber.

“You little…fine. Fine! I’ll bring you a book on how to feed a huli jing kit, and you keep to it, you hear me?”

“I will,” Nie Mingjue said. “But don’t you even think of taking him away!”

“On your own head be it,” the winged lion grumbled. “Not everyone’s as understanding as me.”

“Why are you wet?” Nie Mingjue’s father asked him.

“Water monkeys,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “There was a nest.”

“Water monkeys? Don’t they normally stay away from people…? Or, I suppose, were these ones feral?”

“Thieves.”

“Ah. Well, nothing to be done about it, I suppose…bad luck for you to run into them here, of all places. But good experience! How many people your age can say that they fought water monkeys?”

“Can we go home?” Nie Mingjue asked, a little plaintively, and rubbed his nose. “How much can you really have to say to the Jiang sect, anyway?”

His father chuckled. “More than either of us would like, unfortunately. But if you’ve had enough of water, which no one can blame you for, maybe you and Huaisang can go shopping in the pier instead?”

That would work, Nie Mingjue thought, and nodded happily.

(Sect Leader Jiang was extremely embarrassed about the ghostly rats in the night-market – he claimed they’d never seen neither nose nor tail of them before the Nie brothers had accidentally tripped over their trap and had to flee from the swarm...)

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nie-er-gongzi,” the white-clad cultivator from the mountain said, smiling broadly and saluting deeply.

Xiao Xingchen had made himself famous during his first half-dozen night-hunts alone for his extraordinary grace, bearing and strength, and he said he was on a mission to help the world. He was beautiful, virtuous, and matched each ideal of gentlemanly arts.

Sects throughout the cultivation world were drooling at the thought of enticing him to join them, fighting for the opportunity to put in a good word with him.

Not all sects.

Nie Mingjue stepped forward, purposely putting Nie Huaisang behind him.

“Don’t you even think about it,” he said, hand on the hilt of his saber. “Buzz off, birdbrain.”

Xiao Xingchen might wear white, but Nie Mingjue knew a zhuque chick when he saw one.

“I found something for my aviary, da-ge!” Nie Huaisang, seven years old and delighted with his clumsy autonomy, announced.

Nie Mingjue, less than a full year into his new role as sect leader, rubbed his eyes. “Oh?” he asked, only somewhat wanting to scream endlessly into the void, which was better than usual. “That’s nice, Huaisang…”

“Come look! It’s so pretty!”

“I’m a bit busy –”

“But da-ge!”

Nie Mingjue sighed and got up, following Nie Huaisang to the door only to come to a complete stop.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he said to the fenghuang currently pretending to be a rooster in a cage, as if anyone would actually mistake phoenix flames for regular feathers. “Do you have no dignity left?!”

“You can’t adopt the bashe,” Nie Mingjue said to Nie Huaisang, who pouted. “It eats elephants; we’d be broke within three months.”

He turned to the giant python.

“You can’t adopt Huaisang,” he said. “I will literally murder you.”

“Why can’t I go watch the eclipse?” Nie Huaisang complained. “Everyone else is going!”

“I’m not risking a tiangou.”

“The…dog that eats the sun? Really, da-ge, is that even real?”

“You know what,” Nie Mingjue said, “you’re grounded just for saying that.”

Nie Huaisang grinned.

“Maybe I want to go and live among the qilin!” Nie Huaisang screamed, fourteen and hormonal about it.

“Well you don’t get a choice!” Nie Mingjue bellowed back.

“You’re not my father! I don’t have to listen to what you say!”

“I’m your fucking sect leader and yes you do!”

“I hate you!”

“I don’t care if you hate me! You still aren’t going to go live in a field with some magic pointy deer and that’s final!”

The qilin herd wisely chose to withdraw.

“Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao hissed, and Nie Mingjue looked up from his work at him – he hadn’t heard Meng Yao this upset since he’d shoved him into a closet to get him out of way during the whole dangkang boar hunt debacle. “Da-ge, there’s a dragon outside.”

“Again?” Nie Mingjue said, standing up to stretch and feeling oddly unbalanced. They’d just finished another session with the song of Clarity, so he really shouldn’t be feeling like this; he would need to write to Lan Xichen again about his fears that the treatment really wasn’t working. Lan Xichen would probably only say to give it more time, another chance, but still… “Let me go talk to them. Dragons are the worst.”

“No, da-ge, you don’t understand,” Jin Guangyao said. “It’s not a water-serpent or – or even a jiaolong – it’s a dragon.”

“A flood-dragon is a type of dragon,” Nie Mingjue said, following Jin Guangyao outside. “You know that, it’s in the name, what’s the big – oh, I see. It’s a celestial dragon.”

Jin Guangyao glared at him with an expression suggesting that he was under-reacting, but Nie Mingjue really didn’t have the capacity in him to reach with appropriate fervor at the moment. He and Nie Huaisang had been fighting a lot recently, every little thing escalating into a giant argument, and he was no longer sure if he was doing the right thing in trying to force Nie Huaisang onto the path of his ancestors. After all, unlike Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang had – somewhat different ancestors, on his maternal side.

And, he supposed, Nie Huaisang was old enough to decide otherwise, if he truly wished…

Still, Nie Mingjue was as stubborn as a mule and had no intention of giving up his baby brother without a fight, so he braced himself and went over to the frankly massive creature draped over the entrance gateway and much of the training yard that the entirety of the Nie sect was doing its utmost best to pretend that they weren’t seeing.

Nie Huaisang was sitting on the thing’s five claws – an imperial celestial dragon, apparently – because of course he was.

“Excuse me,” Nie Mingjue called up to the dragon, which turned its head to regard him, an entire production that took nearly a quarter ké to accomplish. “The brat there is mine, please return him.”

“Da-ge!” Jin Guangyao hissed again, but Nie Mingjue waved him away.

“You have raised him well,” the dragon said, which was…a good deal nicer than most of these interactions usually went.

“…thanks?” Nie Mingjue said suspiciously, ignoring Jin Guangyao’s splutters of “It talks?!” “I think?”

“I have chosen to grant you a boon,” the dragon announced.

“…right,” Nie Mingjue said. “If this ‘boon’ is that you’ll take him off my hands, I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse. He may be trouble, but he’s still my brother.”

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, indignant. “Don’t be rude. I asked him for this!”

Nie Mingjue frowned at him, unable to resist the feeling of hurt even though he’d already told himself to expect something like this. “…you want to leave?”

“No, da-ge, don’t be ridiculous. I asked him to improve your health!”

Ah.

“Huaisang –” he started to say.

“Don’t you ‘Huaisang’ me!” his little brother shouted. “I know you’re trying to hide it, but it’s getting worse, isn’t it? San-ge told me so! He said I should get ready!”

Nie Mingjue made a mental note to strangle Jin Guangyao, who had no right to say something like that to Nie Huaisang even if maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world to emotionally prepare Nie Huaisang for the upcoming bereavement and inheritance he would need to face.

“Anyway, he said to get ready, so I did!”

“You can’t just ask a divine dragon to fix me, Huaisang. That’s not how this works.”

“Uh, it totally does, and I did, and he agreed. So there!”

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms and glared. “And what did he want in return?”

“The boon is a reward for your past merit, not a trade for the deeds of the future,” the dragon said, not even slightly hiding how its whiskers were shaking with suppressed laughter. “You have travelled a difficult road, and borne the weight of it well. And besides…”

“Besides?”

“If you were to die, he would undoubtedly petition the creatures of the underworld to return you.”

“Well, fuck,” Nie Mingjue said, having not considered that. “Fine. Whatever. Heal me and I’ll try to keep an eye on my health going forward.”

Maybe more Clarity? He could try to free up his schedule, get in a few more sessions…

“I just give up,” Jin Guangyao said behind him. “I just fucking give up.”

Nie Mingjue, assuming that he was talking about Nie Huaisang’s nonsense, agreed whole-heartedly.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #nie huaisang's mom #my fic #my fics #child development #same headcanons as three times the charm #Anonymous

530 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

#bnha 294 #mr. compress #...and actually that's pretty much it lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is up later than usual (and mostly unedited as well)#just one of those days

601 notes · View notes

gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Page of Swords

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | three

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt a new skill. Mando attempts to teach you.

Word count: 4.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: gun usage/mentioning throughout, mature language, pining, more dirty thots-ish, angst because why not, does this count as fluff? sure, gun kink if you squint w/o your glasses

Notes: As the reader (you/us) begins to become more familiar with Mando, his perspective starts bleeding in to the narrative, without a blocked off POV. Also, the reader’s past will start weaving (incoherently?) into the story as well. The large italicized chunks denote past tense interactions (which is probably obvious but who knows any more). Cheers x (gif credit: @djarinsgf)

A shot rings out.

Birds explode from the canopy with offended squawks, squalling in a winged flurry to scatter every which way until they recede again into the green, disappearing back into their hiding places. You groan. You thought you’d be better at this.

It’s not that you thought you were some sort of savant, you just didn’t expect to be this bad. Honestly, it’s embarrassing—you’re embarrassingly terrible— like statistically, you should have hit something by now, but you just keep missing—a crowded tree line in front of you, and not a scratch in sight—nary a singed branch nor a bullet holed trunk. It’s almost impressive how poor of a shot you are—and you would be, if you weren’t so damn exasperated with the whole affair. With a frustrated grunt, you throw your hands up, brandishing the weapon haphazardly.

“Careful,” Mando warns slyly, “you could hurt someone with that thing.”

“Yeah, well at least I’d hit something,” you grumble.

The kid had been fussy - almost unbearably so - in the weeks that followed your short stint on Bajic, and your party was itching for some time off the Razor Crest. After his third tantrum in a day, Mando decided to land on some unknown planet you couldn’t even spell to stretch your legs and take a breather.

You had almost sobbed when you saw him drag his menagerie of weaponry over. You knew what this meant, you knew what came next—his weekly, routine buff.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

Ever since the first time, when you damn near had a conniption ogling him, you swear it’s like he’s doing it just to mess with you. He isn’t—of course he isn’t, rationally you knew that, in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. He’s a Mandalorian—weapons are apart of his religion for kriff’s sake—but Maker does it seem intentional. Premeditated. It’s like you can feel the blistering ray of his gaze on you as he takes his time, roving a leathered hand over the bulge of the shaft—greasing it, stripping it, part by metal part…

It’s all in your head, you told yourself. It’s all in your fucking head and you need to get a grip.

Immediately you sprang into action, busying yourself with anything you could get your stupid, little hands on—in this case, being one of his many blasters.

“I wanna give it a go,” you said.

He let you, surprisingly. He hesitated, at first, his helmet tipping at a disbelieving angle. But he gave in—it took less effort on your part than you’d figured—and Mando conceded. He obliged.

How hard could it be? You thought.

Famous last words.

He’s parked there, settled on a throne of crates pushed flush to the Crest, slouched against the outer hull of the ship as he cleans, from the looks of it, every item in his arsenal—a front row seat to your pathetic endeavor and you’re failing—epically, ridiculously—shot after errant shot.

You line yourself up, scrunching your face in concentration as you bare the blaster in your hands. Maybe this time…

You fire off a round and an animal scampers scared in the thicket. Nothing. Another sublime miss.

You hear a noise come from Mando’s direction, something subtle like a blip of static through his helmet - Maker, he’s laughing at you - and you pivot around to him.

“What,” you ask, although it's less of a question and more of a griping pout. He replies with silence, that fickle language he's mastered to perfection all on his own, his focus pitched down to the bristled rod he’s driving in and out of his rifle, scouring out the residue from the inner barrel. “Ugh, what Mando?” you say, just shy of a whine, one hand slotted on your hip, the other dangling by your side, the pistol foreign and cumbersome in your grasp.

“Didn’t say anything,” he replies with a half shrug, his pauldrons shifting so imperceptibly you almost miss it. You pause, hurling him a look that misses him completely before you heave a frustrated sound.

“Fine, you show me how it’s done then.”

The T of his visor finds you. Its cold and unknowable as he rolls his helmet, tilting it up to you, hands slowing their ministrations to a rest. He’s wears a glare, carved into the steel hollow of the plates—unamused and smoldering—and with it, you feel small; microscopic and withering under his pointed gaze— suddenly too exposed in the open patch of jungled wilderness they’ve landed in and your mouth tweaks, teeth grazing the plush there. You assume he won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll rise to such obvious of a challenge, but he’s sighing—you can see it in the slant of his armor—and marching towards you before you can take it back, drawing closer and closer until Mando’s slated in front of you, expectant and postured and you forget— like the skip of a record, you forget why he’s even there— not a foot before you— and your eyes dance across his helm, flickering back and forth.

“May I?” he nods down to the pistol in your hand and you start - oh, shit - and offer it to him clumsily.

Mando squares off against the untamed green. The air lays hot and sticky around them. There is no trace of wind, no glimmer of breeze, and his cape hangs mute down his back. You’d never seen him fire his weapon. He surrounded himself with them, sure, always had at least two strapped to him at all times— probably even slept with one, you reckon— but you’ve never seen him use one.

With one solid movement, he cranes his arm, taking aim.

Now, you aren’t one to condone violence, but he just looks right doing it; an extension of himself with how natural it is, how innate— an added appendage, born unto him. The pistol looks good in his fist, like it couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, the orange tips of his glove curling around the hilt, looping over that sensitive release.

He has practiced hands. Methodical. Sturdy. It’s sensual, to watch him like this. Pornographic even— sacrilege in a way. A part of you wants to look away and turn your gaze, grant him privacy as he handles the blaster— delicately, confidently. It’s intimate.

The pistol croons in his palm. She bends, supple and lilting. He knows just where to touch, where to stroke— she does anything he tells her. She melts for him.

Warmth pools in your mouth. Mando pulls the trigger.

He lands an impressive shot onto an impossibly narrow tree trunk nestled further in, and your features contort with amazement. Maybe you want to see it again—like a nosy neighbor peeping in through drawn curtains. Maybe you’re being reckless and smarmy, and maybe you know it. A Mandalorian’s got a gun in his hand and you’re prodding him - brilliant strategy, top marks - but your adrenaline is pumping something fierce and you feel yourself grow bold with each seize of your heart.

“Lucky shot,” you huff.

He pans to you, lolling his head, visor locked onto your face. Without flinching, without gracing you with a remark, he raises his arm and fires— doesn’t even have to kriffing look. The scorch mark sizzles - haughtily, jeering - no more than a few inches away from the first. You nearly choke on the arrogance of it— the lazy, smug performance— like he can’t be bothered with any of it, as if your taunts are all so beneath him.

You have to bite down on your lip to stop it from snaking into a wicked grin.

Mando offers the pistol back to you, flipping it grip-side up in a fancy flourish before striding - strutting - back to his post. You shake your head, a determined set to your jaw and you retake your aim, squinting in the hazy afternoon light, pulling the trigger— and nothing happens.

Again, click. Nothing, click after fruitless click. You make a face, pinching—

“Safety’s on.”

You flush, thanking the Maker that your back is towards him, and switch it down with your thumb. “Right,” you mumble sheepishly, wetting your lip. You align your sights, bracing yourself for the impact—

“It’s your stance.”

Three words.

Three words, the only solace Mando provides before devoutly returning to his work.

You wait for him to elaborate, to edify you— for any manner of sage advice— but the explanation never comes; he leaves you like this, marooned with three fucking words and you have to screw your eyes shut. This man is baffling— maddeningly unhelpful— infuriatingly sparse. It makes you want to howl and rip your hair out— and you whip around violently.

“What about my st-”

Your question comes scampering to a halt, tail between your legs, throat gone dry. Mando has planted himself directly behind you— standing so close you can see your reflection in his beskar, see the blush blurring your cheek under the alien sun.

“What uh, what about my stance?” you ask, mousier now, swallowed up by the sheer size of him so near to you.

“It’s not wide enough.”

You glance down at your feet before looking back up to him. “What do you mean?”

“Turn around,” he says.

You quirk your brow at him before he repeats himself. “Turn around and spread your legs. Hips distance apart.”

Fuck, he has no business sounding like that— like bourbon and smoke and iron tang—but you do as he says. You’re shakier than you want to be— you wish you could be cool and collected but you’re not. You’re anything but, and you’re nervous. Maker, Mando makes you nervous— it’s not just the weapon in your hand, it’s him— setting you off and giving you butterflies like you’re some sort of forlorn schoolgirl. You’re a grown woman, and this is what he’s rendered you to— jittery, molten mush. It’s embarrassing. Fucking mortifying.

You guess it’s the day for it.

He doesn’t touch you, but it hardly matters; you can sense him there all the same, a shadow in your peripheral. He leaves a thick breath of space between your bodies and with your back towards him, you can feel the waves of heat radiate off the bounty hunter, pulsing out out out from him and it’s almost intolerable— as if you’ve flown too close to the sun, waxed wings melting in pearled streaks down your spine.

You scuttle your feet open, parting just outside your hips.

“Arms up,” he says, and you hoist them into position. You’re sure you look as awkward as you feel, if not more, all the angles of your body feeling perfectly wrong and misplaced. “Relax your elbows,” he adds, and you do— you try to, at least.

“Too much. Somewhere in between.”

You try again, strengthening through your triceps and down your forearms.

“Better,” Mando gives. You think you feel him nodding approvingly behind you. “The important-”

Kriff, you panic.

You spin towards him, dropping your form and cutting him off with a humbled, worried look, throwing up barricades and hurdles— landmines for him to dodge. Or step on.

“Wait hey Mando, you don’t- I don’t want to take up your time,” you begin.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m serious, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“You’re not.”

You blink.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

He speaks so plainly, unvarnished and matte— unflinchingly earnest in a way that gives you pause. It leaves no wiggle room for interpretation and you sigh, defeated, shoulders slumping as you haul yourself back around.

“Arms up,” he reiterates, but there’s no malice there; he sounds kind— untroubled. It always surprises you how mild he can be— Mando should be anything but, he’d have every reason to, but he’s calm. Patient. You wonder if he even realizes it, if he even recognizes the tenor of his own voice— how gentle it can be— under the helmet. Despite it.

“Think of your posture as firm, without tensing,” Mando explains. “Soften your knees, don’t lock them— same goes for your arms— don’t stiffen against the recoil, let your body absorb it.”

You mirror what he coaches, shooting him a curious, hopeful look over your shoulder.

“There. Good,” he says. “Now, which is your dominant eye?”

Your arms fall down to your sides. “My what?”

“Dominant eye.”

You give him a baffled look like he’s speaking another language - in all fairness, he is - and Mando emits another puff of air through his modulator, chortling.

“Eye dominance. We’re all either right handed or left handed. Eyes work the same— right eyed or left eyed. We favor one or the other— you’ll focus that one to aim.”

Oh, huh.

You still appreciatively, basking in the novelty of the information. “Really? I didn’t know that. That’s- that’s actually pretty interesting,” you muse. “Brains and brawn, huh?” You flash a cheeky grin back at him.

Mando grunts, nondescript and unaffected and robotic but he swears he can feel pink creep over his clavicle, tainting the tan of his skin concealed there.

He fits his gloved hand over yours, if only for a second, and you do your best to ignore the rough patch of his leather grazing against the thin flesh there. You try to ignore the chill that sweeps across the curve of your waist, how the peach fuzz prickles up, electrified and magnetized, as he unfurls your fingers from the gun, letting it slip from your grasp. He tucks it under his arm, keeping it pinned there with his bicep.

“Hold your hands out like this.” Mando shows you, creating an oval with his fingers— like a view finder or a scope. You mimic him, feeling like every bit of an idiot, but you don’t contradict him— you do as he does. “Now, set your focus out on a fixed point through your hands,” he instructs and you do, setting your sights on a gnarled tree branch.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it,” you respond.

“Now alternate closing each eye. The image should stay in the frame with one, and then shift out of it with the other.”

You frown, concentrating, and close the right before blinking over to the left— kriff, he’s right.

“Oh shit,” you mumble. “My left. It’s my left eye.”

“You sure?”

You check again, squinting through either eye, the tree bouncing in and out of the frame of your fingers. “Mhm. Yeah, my left eye keeps it centered.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Left eyed but right handed. Interesting,” Mando murmurs.

You glance up to him, dropping your hands. “Why is that interesting?”

“Not common. The brain’s typically wired the same way all the way down— one side of the body will be dominant. It’s not usually split.”

“You telling me my brain doesn’t work properly, Mando?” you quip dryly.

“You said it, not me.”

He holds the blaster out to you and you swipe it from him with a huffed snort, returning towards the tree line and stars your face hurts. Your face hurts and it’s burning with this asinine smile that’s digging mercilessly into your cheeks. It makes you want to massage your jaw, get the damn thing to relax. Honestly, it makes you want to give yourself a slap.

“Make sure to cross your center with it. Line it up towards the left.”

“Maker, do you think about all this every time you shoot?” you ask, mystified, as you fix your aim.

“Muscle memory takes over eventually. You’ll get there with enough practice.” Mando replies gruffly and you guffaw, loud and wonderfully ugly. You seriously doubt it.

After a series of very near misses— you are getting closer, you’ll give yourself that— your arms grow tired; the joints and muscles protest as you extend them out from your body, taut and tense— the gun dead weight in your wobbly hands.

Your shoulder smarts where you injured the tendon in the explosion. You roll it out, earning snaps and pops as it notches over the bone there. They told you you were lucky. They congratulated you - it’s not a complete tear! - and it’s on the mend well enough, but it’s weak. It doesn’t matter the weight of the object.

The longer you hold anything, the heavier it feels.

You suppose you could throw in the towel at any point, but the fact of the matter— as terrible and true as it may be— is you want to impress him. That awful, nagging feeling— you want to impress the Mandalorian. You want him proud of you— you want to be nice and shiny for him to admire, like one of the guns he polishes until it’s sparkling, until he can mount it on display and show it off. It’s absolutely nauseating— but you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to, and you don’t. You don’t want to.

He isn’t blind to it. He sees the exertion, the tax— how beads of sweat congress around your temples, dampening the base of your scalp, butterfly kissing your skin with a sheen. A trail of wet salt, one lone pilgrim, ventures down the back of your neck, wandering lower and lower, past the hem of your shirt, disappearing into the soft valley of your spine where Mando can’t follow. His throat bobs rough against his cowl.

Transferring the pistol into one hand, you shake out the other, flexing through it and relaxing your grip.

“Wait,” he says and you cock your head back at him. Mando’s retreating to his pile of guns, rifling through the metal anthill before selecting something sleek and chrome. “Here,” you exchange pistols, giving him back the bulkier of the two. Immediately you feel the relief of this new one— it’s lighter and smaller, slighter in your grasp, too— and you turn it over in your hands, noting the way the nozzlelike barrel glitters in the sun.

You’d almost consider it pretty if it weren’t a literal killing machine.

“That’s a CDEF model. Lightweight, reliable, Dedlanite casing, standard issue for CorSec officers.”

You nod along, as if you have any clue what he’s talking about— you don’t. You really, truly don’t.

“Should be easier.”

“Mm,” you hum out in ignorant agreement, slotting your arms back up into position.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” You rest it against the slide of the barrel, hovering nearby.

Mando shifts closer towards you, the grass grinding under his feet as he takes a half step in to your backside.

“Breathe. Don’t hold it in. Let me hear it.”

Fuck, this feels like a sin; this small gap of distance he’s erected between you as tense, as strained and feverish, as whispered confessions in the dark. Like sneaking back into your parent’s house late at night— the morning moon peering down at you with a heavy lidded gaze— knowing, knowing, keeping your secrets to herself, pressing them to her chest, winking sleepily.

It would be so much easier, so much simpler, if he just put his hands on you. Placed your body where he knows it should be, force you into the shapes and positions he’s so intimate with himself, but he doesn’t. He draws it out. He respects your space and autonomy and it makes it worse. Your imagination fills the void separating you two, and it’s running wild and rampant and depraved and—

“Focus,” he utters, his voice no louder than a purr. You’ve never heard something so mechanical make a sound so deliriously smooth, and you have to suppress a nervous scoff. Focus, he says, as if he isn’t suffocating you with how close he’s standing— as if you aren’t enjoying it— as if you aren’t vibrating down to your very bones at the proximity of the bounty hunter—so close, you bet he can hear them, rattling and slapping against each other deep beneath your skin.

“Remember what I said about your posture,” he suggests quiet-like and murmured, without a trace of condescension there—a harmless reminder. You make the adjustment, fixing your shoulders down your back, and release the stress in your arms.

“Firm without tensing,” you respond under your breath—more for your sake than his— striking it from your mental checklist.

“‘Atta girl.”

No.

No no no, Maker, you feel it. You can fucking feel it—how something low and resonant spasms beyond your belly, the clench of your empty cunt at the encouragement—the heady praise of it all.

Atta girl.

He said it softly - rudely husky - just above a whisper, something tailored specifically for you—almost like it slipped from his lips and he didn’t even notice its passing. It meandered out of him, so easy—too easy. It practically sauntered.

You’re trembling— stars, you hope Mando doesn’t see it. It’s humid and muggy and yet you’re shaking as if it’s freezing, as if you’ve got icicled snot dripping from your nose, and your nerves go haywire, fraying in every direction as you sip in a whistled breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Focus.

“Take the shot,” he orders.

Focus.

Pressing into the slope of the trigger, you fire.

You gasp excitedly— a surprised, whooping laugh tearing through you and you whip around, giddy and beaming - bright, beautiful - a lock of hair sticking to your lip. It’s the youngest, the freest, Mando’s ever seen you; maybe the happiest, too, and his stomach twists at the sight, a tourniquet cinching around him, winding and coiling until he’s convinced it’ll burst. His fingers twitch, every instinct begging him— demanding him— to reach out and return the stray strand behind your ear alongside the others but you beat him to it. Deftly, you flit it away yourself instead, and he’s relieved.

Devastated, too. Gutted.

“Did you see that?” you ask, gleeful as a child.

He pries himself off you, dragging his gaze over your shoulder to where you struck the trunk, a coaled mark charred there into the bark, before returning his attention back to you. You meet his eyes, despite the blackness of his helm— you hold them, for a breathless, ageless moment, you hold him there.

“Not bad.”

He can’t muffle the jolt of his heart as it rumbles through his chest, breaking his mouth wide open into an aching smirk. He doesn’t know if you hear it. He fears you might.

He prays you do.

///

“Cooling vents,”

Metal scrapes against the table as you place the delicate bits down, deconstructing the blaster. The Mandalorian nods, silent as a specter.

“Gas refill valve,”

Another clunk.

“Actuating blaster…” You turn over a particularly knobby bulb before peeking up at Mando through your lashes, a wry grin tugging rosy and coy at your lips. “… thing-”

“Module,” Din corrects.

“Module, right, that’s what I said.”

He sits across the galley from you, arms folded over his chest as he eases back against the hull of the ship, overseeing as you take apart the blaster, the slender little thing he gave to you - he rarely uses it anyways - as you name the pieces and parts just like he’s taught you.

“Keep it,” he told you.

You resisted. You fought it, laughed it off incredulously— stubborn to the end— argued you wouldn’t even have a need for it.

“What am I gonna do with a gun, Mando?” you balked, and Maker he’d hoped you’d never have to use it, would never have to see a firefight in your damn life let alone be in the middle of one, but he wants you to have it— have a part of him, strapped to your hip— the closest he’ll get.

He’s selfish. Din is a greedy, selfish man. He wants to see himself on you, wants you to carry him around like a souvenir from something unforgettable— something irreplaceable— a memory like warm bathwater you dip into long after it passes, and he’ll take whatever he can get— just like you, hungry for anything you’re gracious enough to feed him. And fuck, if he doesn’t hate it— doesn’t want to bury that feeling, cold and lifeless, six feet under the earth. No ceremony. No elegies. Dead and gone, returning to the dust from whence it came, crawling back into the ribcage it sprung from.

Din said your name. Firm— gentle, too.

“Keep it.”

They’ve been at this ever since you managed to hit the target that first time. Hours have passed, dawdling by on the fat little legs of a toddler, plodding and slow. The sun had set, and winged bugs the length of your palm had taken up residency in the dark rainforest, making themselves known with a haunting tune, screeching and singing into the lush wood. After the child had tried making a pass at one, no doubt in the mood for a quick snack - isn’t he always - you had agreed to retire back inside the Crest.

You were so excited, your whole face lit up— like fireworks he remembered once, through the eyes of a boy in the summered night— and you wanted more; like a sponge, sopping up all you could, sucking Din in and ringing him out for it and fuck, he couldn’t say no.

He can’t say no to you.

You start prattling out questions about everything and nothing - what blaster do you prefer, do you have a favorite rifle, what’s the difference between plasma and gas charges, you have a flamethrower on your wrist? - and before long you get him lecturing, going on about weapon safety and trigger discipline and slide bites and ammunition rounds and gun brands and serial numbers and Din knows this isn’t you. You’re a borderline pacifist for kriff’s sake— he’s almost certain that if push came to shove, you’d rather lay down your life than take one. You’re no gunslinger, and you don’t hold any aspirations to become one.

But here you are, fist tucked under your chin and leaning in to him, hanging off his every word.

You have no personal interest in weapons. Frankly you’d be pleased if you never held a gun again in your life. No, and whether Mando realizes it or not, you want to know because it’s him. You want to know him. And maybe it’s because its the most he’s given to you since you stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest— almost a month, and what you’ve gotten from him today alone has been more than he’s given in weeks— not a door so much as it is a window into his life, an allowance, a glimpse behind the beskar. Its more attention, more words and insights, more tiny gestures and maybe you’ve been a little starved for it— maybe you’ll eat up any scraps Mando tosses with a calloused glove, molded and rotting, from his plate.

Even if it’s this, even if its fucking firearms.

You want to know.

It’s who you are: it doesn’t matter what someone’s passionate about, you’re interested in their interests. You care what they care about. If they matter, then it matters. It’s who you are, webbed and weaved into the innermost fabric of your being, and you can’t pretend to be anything else; you don’t know how to unbecome.

You’re splayed before him— a bleating heart, kaleidoscoping and blooming and twisting in his hands. If only you could pry open your chest— turn yourself inside out at the seams, spill yourself to splatter, sanguined and slippery right there on the deck. You’d do it, if you could.

Am I loving enough Am I giving enough Have I paid my debts Am I worth this now, finally— Worth that which I offer, have I earned it back

So effortless, this vignette, seated here in his galley, dismembering a blaster and labeling the parts, terminology klutzy on your tongue— tripping over yourself just to get it out— looking to him for hints and clues, fluttering your doe eyes with cartoonish bats.

He answers. You laugh. He smiles.

The kid is in his pram, entranced by all the shiny baubles and bobbins just out of his reach - thank the Maker - and giggles at their little game— happy, for once, just to watch.

You and me both kid, Din thinks. You and me both.

209 notes · View notes

skellebonez · 3 years

Note

You said you have yet to write something for winter's Actor au, so how about we fix that!? Maybe with promts 18 and 28? It could be with anyone, Shadowpeach, Freenoodles, even Ironbull, you choose

Disclaimer: I don’t really know all the ins and outs of how movie making works, I am winging it based on behind the scenes footage videos. This is probably not a 100% accurate representation of a studio lot. There are multiple mentioned ships but no focus here today, this is just a fun little gen fic idea I had! When does this take place? ..... UH... SO ANYWAY @winterpower98 CREATED THIS AU!

Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while./You call this luck? No, this is all skill.

No one was prepared when the crash of thunder shook the studio building and the lights flickered out. The cameras followed suit, along with all the other equipment, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief over the fact they hadn't been filming any stunts that day and none of the actors in need of the more labor intensive costumes had been fitted yet as it was still early in the day.

“IS EVERYONE OK!?” Niu Mowang yelled out, his voice carrying through the now quiet set easily without the noise of the electronic equipment (as expected for the actor of the Demon Bull King, he needed that stage presence and it seemed to be coming in useful). “SOUND OFF!”

“I’m ok!” “Me too!” “Whoever has a phone turn on your flashlight!” “IT’S FUCKIN DARK AS SHIT.”

The last one was said by Long Xiaojiao, earning a chorus of surprised and grateful laughter as multiple people did as requested by the director. The lights helped a bit, making it at least possible for those around the set to move to a slightly safer location. They all jumped as another thunder clasp struck closer, truly shaking the entire building this time and making even the most sturdy of them shake in worry.

After another moment of darkness there was a flicker and a low hum as the dim emergency lighting for the set building came to life.

“Alright everyone, that 'little storm' they called for today is apparently way more intense than they claimed it would be,” the director said with a frustrated and worried sigh, and everyone was thankful they had moved everything they needed inside the day prior in preparation. “Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while, given the emergency lighting. Hey!" He turned to another staff member, pulling out his phone in the process. "Can you and the new guy help me call the rest of the cast and tell em to stay put? Alright, thanks!"

“I'll call my dad,” Qi Xiaotian yelled back to the director, looking at his own phone and appearing grateful they still had some signal.

He had come in along with Xiaojiao and anothered cast member ahead of most others (aside from Mowang, who had come in early alone for his... own reasons) to apparently work on some last minute changes to the script that had been left with the young actor the night prior. He supposed that when the script writer was dating your father it made working on that kind of thing much faster (and boy was everyone happy they finally started outright dating, Mowang was starting to worry someone else would have to set them up with each other).

"Which one?" Xiaojiao asked with a chuckle and soft nudge to his shoulder, both jumping at another building shaking thunder clap. "Uh... maybe I should call my folks too... just to let them know what's up."

Mowang sighed, watching at the two youngest members of the cast that had already come in for filming that day moved around to another part of the set to sit and call their respective guardians. This was... odd. The storm was only supposed to last a short while and be no stronger than the normal thunderstorms they got in the area. By the time they were done filming inside the storm should have subsided... but the sounds outside made him second guess if they could even leave on time safely. Normal thunderstorms do not shake buildings this hard or come on this fast.

In the middle of his thoughts the large man felt the brush of a smaller hand on his arm as someone sumbled, startling him into looking over and reaching out a hand to steady them reflexively.

"Mr. Cheung?" Mowang raised a brow as he caught the clearly worried expression on his face. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yeah! Totally fine, peachy even!" Dicky Cheung, their very own Sun Wukong (and Mowang still wondered after all this time about what his full proper name was, given Dicky was apparently a stage name and Cheung was his family name, but he hadn’t found the right moment to ask), answered with an overly happy chuckle and a shake of his head. "Just, uh, tripped a bit!"

Well that was... odd. He normally was a lot more poised than this. And as far as any of the actors on set knew he wasn't particularly scared of storms.

"Are you sure you're OK? You seem agitated," Mowang raised an eyebrow, noting that the other man was watching Xiaotian and Xiaojiao. Maybe he was just worried about the younger cast members? "Have you had anything to eat this morning?"

"Huh?" Mr. Cheung looking up at him with a raised brow of his own, confusion lacing his features for a moment before he looked off into the distance and frowned. "... actually... I think I forgot breakfast..?"

"Well that won't do!" Mowang scowled with a sigh, placing a hand on Mr. Cheung's back and firmly leading him toward the refreshment table. "You get to tell me how I did then."

"How you what no-Oh!" His question was answered as quickly as it had been asked, and Mr. Cheung couldn't seem to help his laugh. "So that's why you came in early."

"I wanted it to be a surprise, but it looks like we got a bigger one," the larger man said with a chuckle, picking up a thick slice of one of the bread loafs himself. "It's my first time trying to make some of these."

"I bet Tie Shan would have been extremely impressed," Mr. Cheung said with a smile before grabbing a piece from a different loaf and taking a large bite, making a pleased sound in response. "There are peach chunks in this!"

"I, uh, thought you'd like that one... guess I got lucky," Mowang couldn't help bit stumble his words a bit and blush at the reaction and mention of Shan before eating his sweet potato bread. The batch had turned out good! A little heavy, but good. "You think the young-uns would feel a bit better if they had a snack?" He nodded his head to Xiaotian and Xiaojiao, watching as another clasp of thunder shook them again and the young man un particular held onto his friend like a lifeline.

"You call this luck?" Mr. Cheung seemed to have tensed again, but his tone was light and his smile was more relaxed. "No, this is all skill. You need to give yourself more credit off the stage. And I bet they would."

He flashed his signature bright smile before rushing over to the younger actors, saying something to Xiaotian after Xiaojiao rushed off to possibly tell everyone else about the snacks. Mowang could have sworn he heard something about someone "messing with and angering a demon who could control the weather", but that had to be a metaphor of some kind.

After an hour no one could figure out where Dicky Cheung had disappeared to until he reappeared after the storm finally let up. He looked fine but... Mowang could have sworn he had changed into similar but not identical clothes and his hair was wet...

Weird.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #actor au #mk #qi xiaotian #mei #long xiaojiao #sun wukong #monkey king #niu mowang (dbk)#freenoodleshipping #(mentioned)#ironbull #(implied)#tie shan (pif)#(also mentioned)#prompt fill

153 notes · View notes

goatpaste · 4 years

Note

evil mane six you say... im listening👀

e! yeah this is like from a nearly 6+ year old AU of mine from when i originally into mlp and stuff

lil cringe but i really wantd to update it because i liked some design/story concept from it

some of the basic world building for this AU was that the Crystal Empire never disappeared and went on to basically be the cantorlot of this universe, and ponies relied on a crystal based technology system and magic became less of a focus as crystal magic was something everyone could use.

Sombra is a good king of the empire, with a large happy family. Dear friends to the wizards of cantorlot, Celestia and Luna. Sombra also made of the elements of harmony in my AU but this is about these bad bitches

twilight in my AU was a unicorn who looked up to the wizards of Cantorlot and wished to train under their wings. she learned many powerful spells from them and the books of great unicorns.

however Twilight became obsessed after learning of the elements of harmony, an ancient relic that had gone into slumber years ago claiming it wouldnt return until it was needed. however twilight thought herself to be smarter and able to force it out of hiding so that Equestria could have a boost in magic believing it would further society to have another source of power.

Twilight had no idea what she was working with and began to work behind the backs of celestia and luna. Tuning into Lord Tireks ability to absorb magic she used it for herself to drawn out the magic of the elements. However she was rejected and the spell turned on her, turning her to a monstery figure would mind could only think of taking the elements powers.

Shining armor was there with her when it happened trying to stop her, but instead became apart of the magical rejection. Only his body was effected and he was forced to stand by and watch his sisters mind become corrupted. Now she is locked in tarturus with Shinning armor as the doors gaurds, hoping they can find a way to heal her.

Rarity is much like her normal self, the only difference is she much more work focused and lives in the crystal empire. She was so goal oriented that she had no friends and simply went day to day working herself to the bone trying to make each dress better than the last.

it drove her made when she began to believe her style was becoming repetitive and she simple would do anything to get out of her runt. so she left the empire and went out into the snow around the kingdom seeking out an old mine full of unique and beautiful stones.

Little would she know she would come across a locked away evil that would take over her mind, feeding on her greed and want to be the best. she would act much as normal Sombra, taking over the crystal empire and demanding the most beautiful stones and jewelry and gowns of the people. it would be this event that would set the new elements into motion, king sombra and friends stopping rarity. (id like to thing her villian name could be oddity...)

when i originally designed these villian designs pinkie was defiantly meant to take over nightmare moons place.

Pinkie pie’s family lives in the crystal empire, as crystal farmers. Pinkie pie herself would work at the castle as a party planner from planning the birthdays of sombras children, to grand galas to diplomatic brunches. She is close friends with Princess Ivory.

However when rarity took over Pinkie pie was held captive as a jester for rarity. some believe the close contact with a creature radiating darkness infected pinkie pie. because there was hardly any build up, just one day Pinkie pie seemed to snap. right in the middle of a party she went berserk and began to destroy everything. The royal court chose to let her off assuming she was sick or had a sugar crash, the list of what it could be was endless. Pinkie pie word return again to throw Princess Ivory’s party and nearly kill her. Pinkie pie would have no memory of what she did only to come concious and learn she was banished from the court and to ever see Ivory again. it broke Pinkie’s heart and it was a moment of weakness. her mind was clouded and she turned into a monster of a mare named ‘The Timeless Party’ and planned to party the whole planet to its core until it could party no more.

with the new found elements of harmony powers pinkie pie was saved, she hasnt returned to the castle but still gets note from Ivory despite refusing to see her out of fear of hurting her.

Rainbow dash was a clouddale pony, she never left the city and happily worked at the weather factory and thinking of the day she would be a wonderbolt. Until the day she lost her wings, she could no longer fly like other pegasus and began to adjust to her new life. she moved to the ground and became a park ranger. she lived a happy simple life coming to enjoy the new experiences that came her way that she never thought she would thought she would enjoy.

Until a stroke of misfortune hit her, literally hit her. A bolt of lightning hit her and she swore she died, Until she awoke and found she wasn't. instead she was covered in dark rolling clouds that she could manipulate and shape to her will.

Rainbow dash found she could fly again and faster than ever before and with no fear of lightning or hail. the weather knelled to her. little did she know with the use of her power she brought on violent storms, floods and lightning made forest fires. Rainbow dash chose to stop her new powers until she could get them under control, but found this itch like a voice in the dark parts of her mind. telling her to let go and enjoy her powers, they were a gift after all.

it wasnt long until rainbow dash changed and seemed to no longer care about her damages. with this came the ancient unicorn, Starswirl the bearded. An old unicorn of old equestria would had frozen his aging to ensure his students could full take over for him one day. however star swirl was full of himself and could never see the bigger picture. He would freeze rainbow dash in ice and leave her in the cold mountains.

with the story reaching tarturus shining could over hear twilight talking about starswirl and asking shining armor if he really thought rainbow dash was the villian and if starswirl choices were truly for the best.

Fluttershy lives in ponyville outskirts but ponyville in this world is mostly underwater and a tourist town for the large spa/hotspring resort run by and supported by a colony of seaponies and sirens.

Fluttershy barely patreons there except to quietly get a spa once a month. and leaves without a world.

she still works with animals but mostly runs a pet cemetery for animals that drowned in the local waters or potentially eaten by rouge sea creatures. Fluttershy sadly would die in her own cemetery having fallen and hit her head on a tombstone.

however after not being found she would be reclaimed and returned to the living by the earth. believing she was given a second chance and was not one with the earth Fluttershy didn’t notice that it was darkness that brought her back. Fluttershy didn’t question her need to send the world back to a state when animals thrived and ponies were scares.

(a villian name i had for her was Queen Pangea)

With the mostly underwater Ponyville in this AU applejack comes from a family of both seaponies and sirens. herself mostly taking after the siren side of the family. She comes from a farming family of seaweed farmers that contributes to the spa and Ponyville’s many economy source.

Applejack’s colony would suffer a infection of darkness that effected a good chunk of the siren population including a bunch of applejacks family and herself. It started with it switching on and off were they would go into schooling frenzies and attack wildlife or other seaponies and sirens. Ponies began to speak bad of sirens believing them to be showing their true nature, which only pushed applejack over the edge. she would begin hunting the waters and destroying other seaponies livelihoods and the things the spa required, even running off guest.

Starswirl has plans to take care of the siren colony that has begun to terrorize ponyville, and shining armor questions if he really has the best choices in mind and wonders if the sirens are at all like his sister and need help.

#rmullet #lol sorry for the long ramblings #i just liked this au i think its a lil fun #long post #villian mane six au #mlp #twilight sparkle #shining armor #rarity #pinkie pie #rainbow dash #fluttershy #applejack

393 notes · View notes

votederpycausemufins · 3 years

Text

I wonder what people think of the NSMP so far, and how they think of it at the end of the chapter, and just what people think in general

@petrichormeraki the hermit Tommy people and @helleborusangel the online friendo with great rambles!

“So, how are things with Grian?” Grifter looked up as someone sat at the table he was working at.

“Surprisingly well.” Grifter replied. “It took about a day to get him used to standard weapons again, which isn’t too bad. He’s still worried about respawning, which is an obvious fear. Oh, and I’m hoping he’ll be able to hang out with Flora today!”

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea. I know there aren’t many young hermits, so if he’s able to hang with anyone his age- hey maybe I should end lessons early.”

Grifter looked up at the other Listener. “End lessons early? You mean for just one, or both of the kids?”

The Listener shrugged. “Both obviously. Vee probably wants a break as much as their sister, so wouldn’t be fair to give one a break and not the other.”

“You’re not sending Vee to the NSMP, right?” Grifter asked, trying not to have any worry in his voice, and if there was, he quickly tried covering it up. “I mean, I haven’t gotten everything over there fixed. They’re all still used to how Nightmare ran it. And I haven’t gotten around one of the things he put in there.”

The Listener chuckled. “No! Of course not. If I could keep Astrid from wanting to visit, I would. I mean, it sounds like you’d like her to come over for Grian. I could try keeping her out if you want but-”

Grifter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, rebellious teen who’s also got magic. Been there, done that. Speaking of, how long have they been training?”

The Listener perked up at that. “Astrid’s been going for one year and twelve days, and yesterday was Vee’s mark for one year. I got each of them a present of course since it’s pretty much like a birthday and all.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, I think I have a little present for them as well. In the middle of everything yesterday, a Watcher was having a one year party.”

Though Grian found it easiest to learn and use a sword for pretty obvious reasons. Instead, he kept an axe out. Apparently it could be as powerful or even more dangerous than a sword to the point that a number of people used it as a preferred weapon. It was a bit heavy for him, but to be honest, all of the tools felt a bit heavy in his hands. Gym class didn’t really have the best setup for using stuff like this.

He set his axe down for a few moments to let his arms rest as he pulled out his communicator. Sense apparently needed to fix it up so it would work in this time or something. Seeing as how it was working and even looked upgraded, it looked like the man had succeeded. Grian checked his coordinates, moving it from side to side to figure out which way was which as the numbers changed in real time. He was pretty sure at this point he was very lost, since he was used to streets and maps and not open land and coordinates. The only real street was near the castle, and it didn’t even last that long until it turned into what was practically rubble.

While Grian knew he could just stay in the castle since rooms were offered, part of him wasn’t thrilled at the idea of having to be stuck with what would essentially be roommates again. Especially if he could live elsewhere without having to pay rent. He would have to build his own place and gather the materials for it himself, but he had been interested in architecture and was thinking about going to college for it, and it seemed like it was easier to get the stuff he would need here.

He found a nice small tree to start with and pushed leaves out of the way for a good place to start chopping. When he did, Grian was surprised to find his axe chopping through the wood like it was warm butter, taking a chunk out of it in two swings. After that, he nearly fell over in surprise when he realized the tree was still standing, but after getting back up and feeling the tree to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, Grian could feel a hint of magic there, keeping the tree floating in the air.

Not wanting to leave it there, Grian started to tear down the rest of the tree, glad to see that the leaves were falling on their own since he didn’t want to deal with them too. Since one tree had been easy enough, Grian started on another, and then another. He took breaks between every few trees, not used to the amount of work even if the axe made it easy. But he was too busy during those breaks to catch the fiery orange color darting about in the shadows.

As Grian began to chop down another tree, he was stopped again as he was tackled from the side. In a panic, he swung his axe wildly, managing to hit whatever was attacking him by the sounds they made, but couldn’t be completely sure because he had his eyes closed. Finally, something grabbed his axe and yanked it away, pinning his arms down before he could grab anything else.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” A voice hissed from above him, and Grian nervously opened his eyes. He immediately focused on the person’s ears, which were definitely not human, but he sighed as he realized they didn’t belong to a rabbit. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to amuse the hybrid as they let go of his one arm and instead pressed their forearm against his neck. “What are you? A hunter?!”

Grian quickly shook his head. He would say something, but talking was pretty hard when being choked. He saw a tree out of the corner of his eye and then looked back and forth between the tree and the hybrid, hoping they would understand what he meant. While it seemed like they didn’t, they at least eased up on his neck, letting him breathe better and speak. “I was just getting supplies.” He wheezed out, taking a break to catch his breath. “Grifter said-”

“Grifter?” The hybrid asked in surprise, then let Grian go for a moment before grabbing him again. “Wait, explain why you look so much like him. How do I know you’re not lying about him. Are you even on his good side?”

“We’re relat-” Was all Grian got out before the arm was against his neck again. “Right, sure you are. How come I haven’t heard of you before? I mean, I know my family pretty well.”

Grian wracked his brain for some way, any way to get this person to leave him alone. He at the very least had access to one hand, since the arm trapping it before was now on his neck, but he had no way of knowing if the person would understand him. He used his pointer finger to point to the side, then crossed his fingers, put his hands into a fist with his pinky out, then a fist with his thumb to the side, then finally put his thumb between his middle and ring fingers while it was in a fist. He repeated that a few times before the arm on his neck pulled back slightly

“Gry-an?” The hybrid asked, and Grian winced, but nodded, pointing to himself. “Alright, and what about Grifter? Who is he to you?” And he was glad his arm was left free. He pointed to himself again, then brushed the side of his cheek twice with the back of his hand, then had his hand go forward, palm down. “Or really? Then where are your wings?” And grian shook his hand like he slammed it in something. “Oh.”

Finally the hybrid moved away, freeing Grian from the ground. He rubbed his neck, coughing a little. “I see what he said about me needing to train…”

“So Gryan, what are you doing around my place?” The hybrid asked, standing up, not offering a hand to Grian.

“It’s Grian, and I was just trying to gather supplies. Grifter said I could stay in the castle, but to be honest, I’d like a place of my own. I went looking and found this place, so I was going to collect some wood. I didn’t realize this place belonged to you. But I’m glad you know BSL.”

The hybrid raised an eyebrow. “BSL? You mean sign language?”

“Uh, yeah. Your accent didn’t quite sound British, so I was worried you might have used ASL, or something else.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A lot. There’s also the two handed alphabet, and I'm pretty sure the sign for future is different if hurt isn’t.” Grian explained, finally pushing himself up to his feet.

“I just used what I was taught by my Grandma.” the hybrid shrugged. “She said something like it was bonzel? Or something like that.”

“BANZSL?” Grian said, fingerspelling it at the same time. “I mean, essentially the same thing. It’s just easier to say BSL.”

“I don’t understand anything you just said, I just know I understand the way your hands move.”

“Good enough.” Grian nodded. “So, your forest? I guess I cut down too many trees, huh?”

The hybrid shook their head. “Pfft, no. I can just replant them. You were just in what I think of as my place, and I’m not a fan of unfamiliar people showing up.”

“And Grifter is… is he allowed or not?”

“Oh he’s definitely allowed.” The hybrid smiled. “Coolest uncle around and now the admin, why wouldn’t I want him hanging at my place?”

“Cool.” Grian smiled, but then his eyes widened. “Wait so I’m an uncle?!”

The hybrid shrugged. “I dunno. You’re from the past, right? I doubt I’m born yet for you- how old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“What the fuck, I’m older than you!” The hybrid exclaimed “Sort of. Long story. Short version is the old admin was a bitch.”

“So, does that mean you were born at that point?”

They rubbed their chin. “No, not yet. I’m trying to remember how old I was and how old dad was when I was adopted.”

“Oh, you were adopted?”

“I think. It’s easier than saying my real dad ran out on my mom and then she dated and married this new guy who’s now my dad.”

“Yeah, that does sound easier.”

“So, I don’t think I gave my name. I’m Fleur.”

Grian smiled and shook their hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Mumbo wanted to find Grian and leave right now. He was pretty sure the others thought the same, but right now they were all split up. They had started to explore before EX had caught up to them. Before he could say why, they were soon attacked by a creeper hybrid going by the name Euro. Mumbo could tell it was obviously the same one that was Techno’s Hels version based on the way they fought, managing to go hand to hand with the piglin hybrid.

Even with that, Euro had been strong enough to keep them split up, and now Mumbo was worried about Grian and Grum. He was especially worried from the fact that they had been there for about a day and he hadn’t seen any sign of Grian or his hels copy. It also didn’t help that the mobs here seemed to be more powerful than the ones on hermitcraft, which caused even more problems. Even in the day, he was getting trouble from zombies and skeletons that were wearing helmets, protecting them from the sun.

An arrow nearly hit Mumbo, breaking him out of his thoughts and making him start to run so he could find new cover. He barely got a shield up in time to block an arrow before he dove into a cave and pulled out a spare redstone torch for some semblance of light. The redstoner backed up, hoping for a bit more cover, but then he bumped into something that was unmistakably someone else. He was about to scream, but then his mouth was covered by a hand, so he struggled instead.

“Calm down, it’s just me!” A voice spoke that was just a little too cheerful for the situation they were in. Mumbo stopped struggling and was let go, able to turn around and see Wilbur was in the cave with him.

“Oh thank goodness. I was worried I wasn’t going to find anyone else.” He looked Wilbur over. “How are you doing?”

“Well, once you’ve died once, the fear of dying again isn’t that bad, especially since we get respawns here.” Wilbur replied, not as chipper as before.

“Yes, but that’s only with respawn anchors, and last I checked, we weren’t linked up to any of those. And if we are, we don’t know where it is and if it's broken or not.”

“Hmm, that’s true.” Wilbur replied, tilting his head slightly in thought. “Well, I’m sure there’s something for if you die and don’t have one yet. I’m sure they wouldn’t make it that easy to actually die.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Mumbo conceded. “But we should still be careful.”

The pair prepared themselves to move out of the cave and get through the landscape, not as worried now that neither of them were completely alone. They were just about to leave when Wilbur grabbed Mumbo’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Wait, there was something I wanted to tell you.”

“What was that?” Mumbo asked, turning back to look at the other man, who seemed to currently be struggling with trying to remember. He remembered at the party hearing mention that Wilbur had still been struggling with his memory after officially being revived, so Mumbo was patient with the man.

“Techno… he mentioned something about when Grifter was in the Dream SMP. About Euro.”

“I think I remember overhearing a tad bit of that when you were both over for Grum’s party.” Mumbo replied. “Something about Grifter talking about his family.”

Wilbur nodded. “Yeah, it was… That’s what it was!” And he smiled, finally remembering, before frowning again at whatever he remembered. “That was Euro who attacked us, but from what I heard, Grifter bragged about him being some sort of coward. That seemed like the opposite of what we saw. Do you think it was a lie? Or maybe that was someone else.”

“I’m not sure.” Mumbo replied. “Maybe he was just using the element of surprise. If we see him again and attack, it could scare him.”

“You’re right, that’s probably it.” Wilbur agreed. “If we see him again, I’ll try attacking and he’ll run off, letting us look for the others.”

“You think they’re alright?”

Wilbur shrugged. “Depends on if any of them are with someone else or by themselves.”

“I guess that’s true. So, what can you tell me about the people from your world? It might help us know what to expect.”

Grum smiled as he cut down another zombie, getting approval from Techno. The two of them had quickly found each other again after Euro split them up, mainly since Techno stayed behind to fight the hels smp’er, and Grum hid nearby. Since then, they fortunately hadn’t run into anyone else, but the longer they went without seeing anyone at all, the more suspicious it became.

“Do you think they’re planning an ambush?” Grum suggested, making Techno shrug.

“If it were me, I’d probably try that. But this isn’t the SMP I’m used to.”

“Yeah, but it also looks like this place is still pretty dangerous. Nightmare was just as bad as Dream… and Theseus wasn’t that nice either.”

“Could also be that the rest of them are just idiots and cowards.” Techno said, hoping to lighten the mood. “They see us out here slaying monsters left and right and know not to deal with us.” That seemed to work as Grum giggled a little. “They’ve seen true terror! A pig and a child, truly a force to be reckoned with.”

They were able to keep the mood up for a bit longer, but then Grum was feeling sad again. “I really hope my dad is okay. He got really hurt last time we saw Grifter. I did too…” And his screen flickered a little.

Techno noticed Grum’s distress and picked the bot up, putting him on his shoulders and trying to ignore chat’s cooing. “Yeah, well now you’ve got me, and Phil’s around here somewhere, so we can take him on.”

“Yeah, and we also have Paul.”

“Still not sure what his deal is, but chat seems to know something about him. They’re just shouting all over each other so I can’t tell what they’re talking about other than it being him.”

Grum nodded, quiet as they walked a bit, then he leaned down and looked at Techno. “Hey, maybe we can find out. He’s supposed to be a king, right?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Techno replied. “Why?”

Grum sat back up and crossed his arms, Techno lifting his own arms up worried that Grum was about to fall off his shoulders. “It’s more of a fortunately. I’ve got extra diamonds and you can use those so I can get access to my mayoral reservoirs.”

Techno stopped walking. “You sure that’s a good idea? How do we know it’ll even work for him? Or, you know, even work for you?”

“Well,” Grum conceded. “We don’t really know. I mean, we’re in a hels dimension, so I might not be able to access anything. Or it might crash again, though I think that was just your old admin’s fault.”

“Then let’s not risk it just yet. We don’t need to know about that and if it goes wrong, it will go really wrong and leave you out of commission.” Techno explained, starting to walk again, but then immediately stopped, only moving to bend down and set Grum down on the ground and grab his weapon.

Seeing what he did, Grum grabbed his own sword, ready to attack whatever Techno noticed. For a few moments, everything was completely quiet. Then, before either of them could react, both Grum and Techno were suddenly trapped in bedrock.

Paul sliced through another group of mobs in the way, then helped Tommy up to the ledge he was on. Tommy had yet to even swing his sword with Paul tearing through anything in the way. At the very least he had been able to use a bow to shoot things down from afar, but Tommy prefered melee to ranged. The teen wouldn’t have been too frustrated if it weren’t also for the fact that the man was going out of his way to kill any chicken they saw as well.

“I still don’t fucking get why you keep killing chickens. Why do they matter?” Tommy asked, picking up some feathers left behind.

“All chickens are spies, or at least a good enough portion that it’s best to get rid of any you see.” Paul explained, suddenly swinging at a creeper that had snuck up on them. “They’ve been a problem for as long as I can remember. At first, I had know clue why, it was just a sort of gut feeling. Like I knew when I didn’t actually know.”

“Alright, and so you just took it as fact?” Tommy asked, rolling his eyes.

“Not, of course not.” Paul replied. “I mean, only dumb people would do that, and there’s three types of people in this world, those who can do math, and those who can’t.”

“Bitch that’s two types of people.”

Paul sighed and looked back at Tommy. “Yeah, that’s the joke.”

“Oh…”

“Anyway, one time I found one messing with my things. I thought it was just a fluke until it happened again. At this point, I was already in the show biz a bit, so I played along. I trapped the chicken and then started jokingly interrogating it. When it actually started writing its chicken scratch on a sign, I thought I was going crazy at first.”

“So, it was actually a spy?” Tommy asked, not fully believing him.

“Yeah, it was. And from there things started unravelling until I finally met Punch.”

Tommy frowned. “And Punch is your hels version?”

“As far as I can tell, yeah.” Paul affirmed. “Pablo Punchwood, god of unwilling death. Most people think of ravens, crows and vultures as birds signalling death, but chickens can be ruthless. Whoever thought of calling cowards chickens did not meet a real chicken.”

“Really? What harm could they do?” But Paul didn’t answer Tommy verbally. Instead, he pulled out a book bound with black leather and opened it, following along with a page. A moment later, a rift of a sort of camo green color opened in the air next to the pair, and Paul reached his hand in, pulling out what looked like a dead mouse. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Think of it like a sort of multiworld enderchest.” Paul explained, though still not answering Tommy’s question about the chicken. When they next encountered some monsters, Paul had them take a more covert route, hiding instead of fighting. Finally, they reached a pair of chickens while the pair of them crouched in the grass. Paul pulled the rat out again, then bit at the inside of his cheek a bit before using the blood from the wound he caused to put blood on the rat.

Tommy watched as the man then threw the animal towards the chickens, surprised by how quietly it went through the air. Then it landed and caught the attention of the chickens, who then started pecking at the creature. After a few seconds, Tommy looked away, not able to stomach what he saw.

“So, that’s chickens for you. Anything about that size that’s injured, and they’ll tear it to shreds. Sometimes there are even chickens that are confident enough to go after people, but bluckers are the ones you need to look out for. They really like to bite.”

“So chickens have been dangerous spies this entire time?!” Tommy asked as they started to move, looking back to see only the bones of the rat were left behind.

“Sure have been. It’s part of why avians are a class all of their own when talking about hybrids.” Paul explained, getting them through another rough patch of monsters. “See, ages ago, there were dinosaurs, and those eventually found their way to being various birds. Technically, there’s a longer explanation, but that’s all you really need to know right now.”

“So avian hybrid people are technically part dinosaur?” Tommy asked, surprised.

“Sort of. See, when you get into the nitty gritty of it all, part of the reason avians are called that and not bird hybrids is because of the fact that they tend to be more shifter than hybrid.”

“More what?”

“Shifter. There’s different classes of what most people generally call hybrids. There’s standard humans, hybrids, shifters, and naturals. Of course, technically humans count as naturals, but the categories were made by a human so it’s a bit of prejudice there.”

“Can you fucking cut to the chase?” Tommy asked, not wanting a lecture.

“Sure.” Paul shrugged. “Punchwood is my evil version, he’s got a thing with chickens, even though he should be staying in this dimension, he’s messed with things, avians are some sort of descendant deity now, and that makes categorizing them odd.”

Tommy was completely silent for a few moments, even stopping in place as Paul continued walking. Then, he came to his senses and ran to catch up. “What the fuck? None of that made any sense! Where do dinosaurs come into that? Why the fuck are there avians here then if he’s hels? Why isn’t it just fucking chickens then?”

Tommy didn’t have a chance to answer as suddenly Paul dodged an attack. Tommy himself barely pushed away, just in time to dodge an attack from a woman wielding a pink axe. He swung his netherite sword at the woman, which hit the blade of her axe, sending sparks into the air. “Hey! Are you going to help me fight or what?”

With those words, Paul attacked the woman as well, looking much sloppier than he had fighting the monsters. Though Tommy couldn’t do much about that right then, he still filed it away for later. After they dealt with whoever this was.

Doc tried to hold back another hiss. When he first ended up finding Phil, he was just glad to have someone else on his side. The monsters were a slight hassle, but between the two of them, they were getting through them well. So well that they actually had enough time to just walk and chat. Doc was even the one to suggest Phil come up with a topic to talk about. And he decided to ask about Doc’s interaction with gods.

Though the hybrid wanted to yell at Phil, he knew that was more the fault of Theseus, Paul and himself for opening things up to that conversation. So reluctantly Doc answered the questions Phil had.

“So why are you just calling it the Perd now?”

Doc rolled his eye a little. “Yeah. Easier to mishear and harder to search for. It’s not like we really want anyone releasing Notch into the world again.”

“Why would anyone want to let him out?” Phil asked incredulously. “He was a tyrant god. People were looking for a way to trap him for years.”

“Yeah, people were, but other people continued to worship him before and even after he was finally imprisoned. God apples being called that is still a recent change.” They paused the conversation to deal with some mobs before Doc continued the answer. “Not everyone is so long lived to remember those days. Heck, some people think Herobrine’s still not a nice dude because of that old propaganda that always got put out. I mean, he can be violent if need be, but you saw how tame he tends to be.”

“I have?”

“That’s Joe. The guy hanging with Cleo and wearing glasses. Eret’s dad.”

“Really? Wouldn’t have guessed.” Phil replied, and Doc was glad for the slightly lighter subject. But that took both of them off guard, meaning neither of them was ready when they were suddenly attacked by an enderman.

Phil was the first one attacked, the monster sending him a few meters back with the amount of force behind the attack. It swung at Doc next, hitting his right arm and leaving a dent in the prosthetic. When it tried to swing at Doc again, Phil had jumped back to his feet and swung his axe, the blade hitting the monster and making them teleport a few blocks away.

With the short break in fighting, Phil and Doc were able to get a good look at their foe. The enderman stood there, slouched over a bit, yet still taller than a regular enderman. Their normally small paw like hands were now large enough that Doc was pretty sure just one could wrap around his head, and that wasn’t counting that the monster had four arms instead of just two.

The last things of note was the fact that half of the enderman was a pale lavender instead of being all black, and they were also wearing a hawaiian shirt of all things. But that was enough for Phil to realize that they were dealing with Ranboo’s hels version.

Xisuma sighed as he got back to his feet. While he was glad to not have ended up completely alone in an unfamiliar world and dimension, he wasn’t the biggest fan of having only found his brother. X had tried a casual discussion, but EX always found a way to turn it into a fight.

And that also didn’t mention the trouble they were already having from mobs. Xisuma was defending the both of them while his brother refused to help, leaving the monsters with the upper hand. Xisuma could usually keep his cool fairly well, but at this point, Xannes was starting to get on his nerves.

“Could you move faster? You’re slowing us down.” EX said, making his point by walking faster than he was before.

“We would be making more progress if you were fighting the monsters instead of me.” Xisuma grumbled, making his point by shooting a nearby spider.

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me getting in the way.” EX replied smugly. “I’m sure you’d rather ban me again than have me sticking around. Who knows, maybe it would stick this time.”

“At this point, it would probably help.” Xisuma replied, though under his breath, not wanting his brother to hear him, then spoke in a more audible tone. “I’m sure you’d find a way around it.”

Xannes just chuckled, slowing down and finally letting Xisuma catch up again before tripping the admin with a laugh. Xisuma looked up in frustration at his brother before just lying on the ground for a moment to calm down, not wanting to fight back. And then Xisuma was suddenly dragged back with a yell as something grabbed his ankle.

Xannes turned around to see why X had yelled, only to find a trail in the ground and his brother missing. “What? Oh, ha ha. Very funny, brother. I’m sure even with my setbacks, us sticking together is still a better option.” He was quiet, waiting for a response, but none came. “Oh alright, I’ll be a bit nicer. Just come back.” But there was still no answer.

Now more worried, EX took his sword out, the blade a tad shaky in his hands. “Brother, I get your point now. My little jokes aren’t actually funny. Is that what you want right now?” Yet again, there was still no answer, except this time, there was the snap of a branch or something in the nearby area, leaving Xannes whirling around, weapon at the ready. “Br-Xisuma! Where are you?! Stop messing around!”

All that happened was another sound from nearby, making Xannes flinch, but with few other options he moved towards it. He needed to push through a bit of foliage, but then he finally saw his brother. The admin was tied up and hanging upside down, a very tall person standing next to him in a light blue cloak with gold accents, two pairs of wings on their back and a golden circlet on their head over the hood of their cloak.

Xannes crept forward, trying to make as little noise as possible. His eyes connected with Xisuma’s, who was trying to signal something, but the hels admin couldn't piece it out in time. Xannes looked back at the figure, only to see them turning back towards him. He tried to hide again, only to have his shoulder grabbed at the last moment and be yanked back.

EX got a glimpse of the person’s face, them similar enough to the demon from the DSMP that he made the connection. “Oh, and I can get a matching set out of this.”

Xannes kicked at the angel demon thing. “Let go of me you bastard! Or I promise you will regret it!”

“Oh, is that so?” They asked, tilting their head. “Well, I guess you’ll have to show me.” And they started to tie Xannes up as well.

When he was hanging next to Xisuma, the admin wriggled a bit to turn himself towards Xannes. “Why didn’t you do anything? I’m sure lightning could take down even an angel.” But Xannes just grumbled. “Look, I can’t get us out of this one, you can’t make me do everything.”

“Oh shut up!”

“Why? I’m not an admin here. I can only get us in and out of worlds, and at the very least I need to stay for the others. I can’t do anything to get us out, so you have to instead.”

“Well sure! Let me just, I don’t know, pull up my kill aura to attack him, hmm? Oh wait, I-”

And then Xannes stopped talking as suddenly the angel was attacked by an invisible force. The pair of admins watched as their captor was attacked until they finally died from damage, and a few moments later, Xannes and Xisuma were both freed from their bindings. “Took you long enough.”

Xannes picked himself off the ground. “That wasn’t you?”

“I told you I can’t do anything since I’m not the admin here. You were the one just talking about kill auras.”

“Well… I can’t actually… access any of my hacks here.” Xannes hesitantly admitted. “And I never got to go to any of the fancy schools you got to go to, so I’m always relying on them for combat.”

“You’re saying you can’t actually fight? Is that why you weren’t helping?” Xisuma asked, taking his brother crossing his arms and looking away as a yes. “Well, we have ample time while making our way through this world looking through the others. I’m sure active experience would help.”

“I don’t want your help.” Xannes replied defensively. He started to walk off in a huff, then paused, looking back. “Why not pretend to teach your viewers or whatever you record things for? Pretend like you’re doing something useful.”

Xisuma chuckled and followed behind his brother. That was probably the best he was going to get from EX, but it was better than nothing. The two of them continued through the world, Xisuma defending against monsters they encountered. And if there were a few less, the pair didn’t notice, just as they didn’t notice the person in a frowning mask following behind them.

59 notes · View notes

jkknight98 · 3 years

Text

My G/T promt challenge attempt inspiration.

This was my first attempt at ever doing a collective prompt challenge so it’s very safe to say I am a little nervous posting this story, especially since I suck at writing standard stories and fell back into my comfort zone, but I hope that everyone who reads enjoys it. It's from @bittydragon idea ( If I knew how to link the original post I would, but I am not very well versed in Tumblr writing yet).

The prompt was to have the tiny protect the giant, I was faced with two options that I could do, protecting the mental self vs the physical self. I chose protecting from the physical since a giant can easily protect the outside of their bodies, but their insides can be easily hurt without them knowing until much later.

Here’s Tommy protecting a gaint Wilbur from his own poor judgement plus interactions from the rest of the sleepybois inc.

Warnings : Blood warning, slight mention of regurgitating meal, soft vore, cursing.

(I have always viewed soft vore as a sfw interest but I know others may not so I’ll leave it out of the main collective tag just to be safe until I’ve been given the all clear to add it, but otherwise I’ll say its just an inspiration from all the wonderful work already posted through the challenge.)

G/T Prompt Challenge

Wilbur should have known that his habit of eating sand would come back to bite him one day, but who could blame him when he enjoyed the texture of sand crunching in his teeth and the feeling it made tumbling around in his stomach. It was supposed to be a normal day when the sands decided to strike back against him. He was just enjoying a warm summers day with his family at the nearby beach, techno was asleep under a umbrella while Phil was trying to keep his tiny brother Tommy from accidentally drowning himself by jumping from the giant's knee and then pinching them to make the man jump and create massive waves for the little gremlin. He couldn't hide his smile as he took hold of another handful of sand and let it fall in clumps into his mouth, not noticing the hidden treasure chest even when it landed in the middle of his tongue with the copious sand, he didn’t get a chance to chew the sand before his father yelled at him after seeing what he had done, swallowing the mouthful quickly before the giant avian could force him to spit it out,” Alright Alright Phil, I've had my two mouthfuls for the day.”

“ You shouldn’t be eating any, what are you going to do if you swallow something that isn’t just sand, what are we going to do then!”

Wilbur just laughed at his yelling father as he leaned backwards on his hands, smiling as he watched Tommy get his fathers attention again by using his feathers as a climbing frame, he shook his head at the sight. He really did love his mixed-up family.

It wasn't until they were having dinner that night did they all find out the true dangers of his habit. They haven't been eating long, Phil chatting with Techno about who knows what while Tommy darted around the table pulling himself chunks of food from everyone's plate, Phil had learned quickly not to make one for Tommy since the tiny always said that everyone else's looked better, and Willbur was waiting for the next pass of the tiny so he could pull his target out of reach. He had pulled up a giant piece of pork away from the tiny, quickly stuffing it into his mouth and laughing as the gremlin child raged at him, he quickly chewed and swallowed down the meat as he dodged the tiny pea that was thrown at him, ” Come on Tomms, I know you have a better arm than that.” He continued to eat a bit more on his plate, subtly feeling how much he ate already before he stopped, feeling a touch of pain from his stomach.

“That's weird?”

“What's weird Will?”

His father looked at him slightly concerned when he had pushed his chair back a bit to look down at himself, taking a hand to gently place on his stomach, ” I don't know dad, my stomach just started hur-ghh.” The moment he put a slight amount of pressure on his stomach it felt as if something was ripping inside, the pain was bad enough that it nearly brought him to tears. He quickly pulled up his shirt to see if it was something on the outside, but the skin was perfectly clear with no signs of irritation.

“Wilbur walk me through what hurts.”

The avian was already up and at his side while Techno was holding Tommy at his other side, but still out of the way of their father, both looking equally as concerned.

“What's wrong with you big man, finally bite off more than you could chew?” The tiny looked as ridiculous as usual trying to act indifferent like the oldest, but it was easy to see the real concern hidden behind his normal snark.

“Oh shut up before I feed you to a bird Bratt, ” Wilbur stuck his tongue out at him before wincing again when he felt his fathers cool touch, ” hurts right where your pressing.” He watched as Phil's hand began pressing at different parts of his body, telling him about how the pain was worse in that spot, but could feel it throbbing into other areas.

He watched his father frown before he went to stand fully, he looked more concerned than he had before, but didn't voice anything to clue his sons into what he was thinking. The avain walked over to a side room to grab a small bucket and set it into Wilbur’s lap, taking care to not press it against his stomach, before sitting back in his chair to look at his son, ” I'm going to need you to empty your stomach a small amount, I don't want you to empty it fully just in case it's something I hope it's not, but I want to check just in case.

Wilbur felt a little annoyed at the thought, they were just eating dinner and now dad wants him to spit up half of it just because of a little stomach pain? “ Really dad I'm sure I'm fine, it's probably something stupid like I ate to big-.”

The avians wings puffed up in an attempt to show how serious he was to his son,

“Dont argue with me Will, just do it.”

Wilbur looked at the sternness on his father's face and sighed, ” fine, ” he began flexing the muscles he used for whenever Tommy used his stomach as his personal sleeping bag and nearly cried when he felt his stomach explode in pain again. It was as if every moment his stomach made was like it was ripping itself open. He only got a little bit into his throat before he had to stop because the pain was too much, quickly spitting the mouthful into the bucket and thrusting it into Phils arms as he leaned over and and gently wrapped his arms around himself, ” please don't make me do that again, it really fucking hurt.”

He didn't see the concern on Phil’s face as he looked into the bucket and showed it to his other two sons, Techno looking equally as concerned while Tommy looked confused. The tiny leaned further over the slightly tinted pink fingers and wrinkled his nose at the almost coffee ground looking substance that rested in the bottom.

“What is that brown stuff, Wilbur didn't eat any mud before we had dinner.”

The father figure kept up his concerned expression as he set down the bucket to run a hand through his hair,”That's because that isn’t mud, that's what it looks like when someone is suffering from internal bleeding.” Phil looked back at Wilbur's plate and the others quickly as he used his hands to feel for anything that could have been hidden inside,” I don’t know what you could have swallowed Wil, I made sure to not have any bones in anything.”

Wilbur just shook his head as it swam a little bit in pain,” I don’t know either, all I've eaten before it started hurting was dinner and the sand at the beach.” he gave another groan as his stomach gave another contraction and sent another wave of pain,” I'm just going to stall my system until we figure out what to do.” He closed his eyes to concentrate and felt the change gradually, his stomach calming and finally coming to a standstill to prevent the walls from churning at the rate that they were, no longer trying to digest the little bit of dinner he consumed.

Techno was the first to gently move Tommy to one hand as he used his other to gently grip his brother on the shoulder,” You sure you didn’t eat anything between our beach trip to now, nothing at all?” The piglin hybrid was clearly a little on edge, he was fully capable of protecting his family from the outside, but even he was powerless when a threat came from their own insides.

Everyone was a panicking a bit more as they tried to think what could be doing this to the musically inclined son before Tommy spoke up, the tiny brightening as he thought of a good idea in his mind,” Why don’t I go inside to check, I can go and see whats wreaking up your insides, that would work wouldn't it?”

The thought made Will turn a little green, ” I don't know if I could get you down with how bad it hurts,” he managed to make a teasing smirk though,” you sure you want to see that porkchop again.” He laughed at the face the tiny had made, but winced again when a flash of pain punished him for this action. He took a slow breath and tried to raise up as slow as he could, wincing as he got to his full sitting height,” are you really sure you want to do that, it’s going to be more gross than ever.”

The tiny just smiled as he pushed up his sleeves and held up his arms in a clear ‘pick me up’ gesture,” I can’t really protect you guys from the outside, but I am able to help you from the inside, besides a little gunk isn’t going to stop me from keeping my big brother safe.”

The response brought a small smile to Will's face as he lifted the tiny,” alright you sap, let's get a plan put together before you go saving me from what's hurting me.”

`~`

Tommy stood in Will’s hand and gently shuffled the duffle bag on his shoulder that held a small knife and a small splash healing potion to reduce the damage before a proper healing potion could be taken, he looked up with another smile,” alright, let's get this over with before you get even worse.”

Will smiled lightly before opening his mouth, feeling his smaller brother clamber his way inside and curling up, and slowly closed his mouth and tilted his head back. He felt a mild wave of sickness at the thought of the heavy weight his brother would unintentionally create, but forced it away as he gave a quick swallow,using a hand to gently touch the firm bulge before it slipped behind his collarbone. He looked up to his dad and other brother with a weak smile,” let's hope he finds what's wrong and not cause any more damage.”

Tommy couldn’t help the soft noise of disgust as he slid into the stomach, landing in knee high mix of the stomach's contents, but he also noticed a strange glowing that was coming from what he suspected to be the front of Willbur’s stomach. He was quick to wade his way over to the object, also taking note of a few other things that shouldn’t have been there floating in the muck. “When did he manage to eat chainmail….oh my god.” Sticking out the stomach wall that looked very inflamed under the shiny purple glow was an iron sword, the handle looking a little worse for wear like the armor but the blade looked perfectly fine as it held firmly in the slowly bleeding wall. Tommy was momentarily shocked before he went to inspect the wound, wincing as he yelled up to Wilbur to inform him what he found.

Wilbur heard the tiny voice of Tommy yell out at him, listening for a moment before looking at the two other giants in pure confusion,” He found a sword sticking into me, as well as chain mail armour… when the hell did that get in there.” He jerked and gave a loud yelp as the pain in his middle got more intense before he felt the normal tingling of a healing potion,” You could have warned me before you pulled it out you little shit.”

Phil was the first to slap a hand to his head,” we were on a beach next to the ocean, you probably ate a buried treasure without realizing, this is what you get for eating sand all the time, be thankful tommy was here or else things could have been way worse.” The elder left the room quickly with a yell on how he's going to get a large healing potion to ensure the wound would fully heal once the youngest was released. The second eldest looked at Wilbur with a small smirk as he got up, giving a quiet ‘ I told you so’ before also leaving the room.

The remaining son sighed as he placed a hand over his stomach, softly rubbing where he felt his tiny brother was leaning,”Let's get you out of there Toms.”

`~`

“I really can’t thank you enough Tommy, if what you were saying was true, there would have been no way for us to get that sword out on my own. Also what enchantments did it have on it.”

Tommy smiled up from his cosy position in a towel placed on Wilburs chest, snuggling further into the softness and warmth the two provided together,” It had unbreaking on it, it would have taken you ages to digest the thing, and you would have to go through so many healing potions since you couldn;t heal around it.”

The elder nodded and placed his hand over the towel as he laid his head on his pillow, using his thumb to stroke the tiny in thanks,” what would I do without you, you little gremlin.” He smiled when he felt a small pair of arms wrap around his thumb tightly and pull it to rest on the tiny’s chest where he could feel the gentle breathing.

“ You wouldn’t be able to shit, someone has to protect you giant bastards when you think nothing can hurt you, especially things at my size.”

#tiny t0mmy #giant w!lbur #gt soft vore #soft vore #Ive never been good with straight G/T interactions #giant ph!l #Giant Techn0 #blood warning #vomit warning

109 notes · View notes

iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Wait For Me // D.M.

Request: hi! can you do a request where draco performed the obliviate curse on his gf before the war, then met her again post war when he became a healer? the storyline is up to you! by the way, i really really like your fics 🥺 - anon

A/N: This request let me explore all the things I love: angst, healer!draco, and redemption. Thank you for trusting me with this request, I love it so much. This was not also on my WIP lost but I had an idea and I ran with it. With some hope, my next few fics will be from that list!!

Warnings: angst, mentions of nightmares and injuries, some anxiety, short words and tempers, swearing. A HAPPY ENDING or at least the start of one.

Word count: 5.2k

1996:

“You know why I have to do this, right?” Draco whispers: worried that if he were to speak any louder his voice would give away how close he is to breaking.

You nod once. A solemn nod that juxtaposes the tears falling freely down your face. How could you be agreeing to this when it made you feel like your heart was being ripped out?

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, arms reaching for you, the urge to touch too strong to resist. “If they used you against me or if you got hurt, I would never forgive myself.”

You hush him; not missing the irony of the situation. To be comforting him when you were going to have a large chunk of your memories taken from you, it was almost laughable.

The final few moments together are spent in silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, getting as much of the other as possible before inevitably having to let go. You bury your face in his chest, almost refusing to let go of him as he unhooks your hands from around his waist.

The time has come; it’s come too soon.

You barely register Draco’s tears mixing with yours as he hauls you in for one last desperate kiss. His forehead remains pressed to yours as he whispers three words.

“Wait for me.”

Then everything goes blank. A flash of white and your life begins anew.

No memories of the last year of your life; no thoughts about the blonde haired teenager that had occupied your mind and stolen your heart.

There’s nothing.

Five years later:

The strong antiseptic smell has your nose crinkling in distaste. The overhead lights buzz as the bright light bounces off the overly clean floor; it makes your head hurt more. You place a tentative hand to the side of your head, frowning further when you feel the large bump growing there. Removing your hand, you sigh, remembering the tears of the pupil that had done this.

Not long after the war, a new decree was issued setting up centres of education for young witches and wizards that showed magical promise. They operated extremely similar to a muggle primary school; however these followed the curriculum created by the Ministry of Magic.

It was in one of these schools that you worked, choosing to train as a teacher after finishing your education.

A rogue ball is what had landed you in the emergency room of the only magical hospital in Britain. It had come out of nowhere; the children playing happily as the weather had improved over the course of the day.

Tapping your foot impatiently off the tiled floor, you had to admit to yourself it had been partly your fault for not seeing the ball before it knocked you on the side of the head and subsequently knocked you to the floor. The child, a young Hugo Ward, had felt terrible – sobs wracking his body as he apologised to you over and over again to the point where you had to reassure him you were fine.

An hour after the accident, it became evident that you were not fine. The dizziness and double vision being symptoms of something worse, your boss had sent you off to St. Mungo’s without room for argument, promising you she would cover your class for the rest of the day.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” calls the triage nurse. A blonde middle aged lady with bright eyes and a kind smile; she points in the direction of exam room two and you flash her a grateful smile.

The hospital bed is uncomfortable as you take a seat on top of the crinkly paper. The pounding in your head had not stopped since you arrived but the dizziness was calming somewhat, and for that, you were thankful. It happens as a flash; a memory washes over you of a large hospital wing, two rows of beds and an elderly lady with fierce determination written over her face.

A single blink and it disappears. The flashes hadn’t happened for a while; the aftermath of a memory charm inflicted upon in your Sixth Year at Hogwarts. It wasn’t known who had done it; they had found you wandering the halls of Hogwarts alone and confused before realising what had happened. You had recovered fairly quickly; the only aftermath being the flashes of what could be memories.

You sigh, sinking further into the gurney as you think of the pile of marking waiting for you at home. Even a sore head couldn’t put off the inevitable.

The Healer doesn’t look up as he enters, pulling the curtain closed behind him, “I’m Healer Malfoy, how can I help you today?”

You sit straighter as you take in the healer. Blonde hair down to the nape of his neck, tied back with what seems to be a leather cord. He hasn’t looked up at you yet, but from your spot, you could tell he was handsome. A strong jaw being home to a distracting mouth. You look away, admiring the rest of him before you could be caught staring at his lips.

Healer Malfoy’s face slackens for a second as his eyes rake over your face. He collects himself after a second, but still, you noticed. He clears his throat, looking down at the chart in his hand. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

You nod, “That’s me.”

“You hurt your head at work?”

Again, you nod, “Twice over. A pupil threw a ball at my head by accident, but I knocked my head on the playground as I fell.”

Healer Malfoy places your chart on a nearby table, pulling latex gloves out of his pocket as he does so. He smiles at you, but there’s something guarded about the expression on his face that has question after question springing up in your overworked and pained mind.

“Did you lose consciousness?” Healer Malfoy asks routinely, silently gesturing to your head, asking for permission to feel the injury.

“No,” You answer, turning your head for him to feel the bump on the side of your head.

You hear his sharp inhale as he examines the large bump there. As if seeing you hurt physically hurt him too, yet how was that possible? Thinking through your admittedly fragmented memories, you cannot find a whisper of what the blonde haired man could have looked like younger. Something niggled in the back of your mind, a feeling, a hunch. You didn’t know what, but it got stronger every time you met the grey eyes of the handsome Healer Malfoy.

“This is going to sound odd but go with me on it please?” You say, voice lilting into a question at the end. The idea of not giving this man in front of you a choice simply abhorrent to you.

Healer Malfoy smiles: it’s polite and doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes a step back from you, needing the distance but also done with the examination of your injury. “Okay, I’ll go with it,” He states warily.

Your hands clench into fists; overcome with the urge to try and coax a smile out of him. “I don’t know how else to say it. Do we know each other? You feel familiar to me, as if I know you from somewhere.”

Whatever smile was on Healer Malfoy’s face falls the instant the words leave your mouth. His entire demeanour changes – shoulders stiff, hands gripping your chart so tight it could snap in half. Unclenching his jaw, Healer Malfoy grits out, “No. We haven’t met before.”

“Are you sure?” You press, deciding desperately that you needed to know the man standing in front of you.

“Very sure,” He murmurs, scribbling your discharge notes and handing them to you. “I would remember you if we had met before.”

The blank confession leaves you speechless. Blinking in what could only be described as shock, you take the outstretched papers.

“Your prescription is there too. You show no major signs of a concussion, just rest for tonight at least and watch out for anymore footballs,” Healer Malfoy starts, “Should you have any more problems, you know where to find us.”

Taking the dismissal for what it was, you hurriedly grab your bag from the gurney and leave the exam room, taking extra care to hide the dejected look on your face as you pass the handsome healer.

Draco watches you go. You all but sprint out of the hospital, almost desperate in your escape to get away from him and his short words.

The threat has been gone for years; vanquished not too long after the night Draco had taken your memories, after the night that continues to haunt his nightmares.

Draco Malfoy had faced the Dark Lord and lived – he has stared death in its sallow face and was not the first to look away. Yet, Draco was ever more terrified of what you would do should your memories ever return. Your rage was entirely more terrifying than staring into the soulless eyes of the man his parents so blindly followed.

Draco releases a breath as he spies your figure finally leaving the hospital. The released breath does nothing to loosen the tightness in his chest; the tightness that had been there since that fateful night in the astronomy tower.

He’s had this argument with himself countless times, always the same words and the same fight. His own justification for why he did what he did; why he took your memories of your relationship and sent you away. Deep down, Draco knows that he should have communicated better. He knows that he should have sat you down and explained to you his worries and his fears. However, at barely seventeen years old, Draco was just getting used to the idea of love. He knew what was coming; he knew that there were dark times ahead and he was unfortunately aware of how you could be used against him should the time come.

He had a decision to make, so he did. Thinking back on it now, it had almost killed him. He had never experienced a pain like it. Draco had been hit with the Sectumsempra curse and the pain that followed was nothing compared to the pain he felt when erasing your memories.

Draco turns away from the door. You’ve disappeared around the corner; your head bowed, and shoulders hunched. He has no reason to watch you now. He turns away from the door, wondering whether it was fate that had brought you back into his life after such an absence.

An absence he caused.

-------

You return to work the day after; feeling fine enough to stand in front of your class and deliver your lessons of literacy and maths but also of spellcasting and magical control for infants. You followed your lesson plans to the letter; resolutely refusing to stray from them should they let your mind wander to the handsome healer and his cold words.

The healer continues to play on your mind for the rest of the week: at work, at home. You would go over the brief conversation you had with him; wondering at which point his demeanour changed, that he became closed off and cold. He hadn’t been welcoming from the beginning, but by the end of it he had downright cold. It should have warned you off; it should have been warning enough to keep your distance and to do your best to ensure you never needed to return to the emergency room, yet there was something about him. There was something hidden within his grey eyes, a dark secret ravaging him from the inside out and you felt desperate to know what it was.

-------

As much as you adore your vocation, as much as you love coming into work and greeting the children with a smile, there was something sweet about sending them home to their parents. A sweet relief that loosens the weight on your chest somewhat.

A shock of blonde hair has you turning back to the school gates. Your breath catches in your throat as you recognise the handsome face of the healer that had treated you only a week ago. His face not one you felt like you could forget.

“Healer Malfoy?” You call out, confused at his presence.

He smiles bashfully, “Draco, please.”

“Draco,” You greet. “Do you often make home visits?” You tease, a smile crossing your face.

“Technically, I’m at your place of work so this would be a work visit,” Draco comments, laughing lightly, seeming to be in a much better mood than the last time you had met him.

Your smile grows larger at the sound of his laughter. “Okay… do you often make work visits?”

He shakes his head, “No. I do not.”

“Why are you here?”

“Two reasons.”

“And they are.”

“One, and one I thought of just now – I wanted to apologise for my behaviour at the hospital the other day, I was rude, and it was out of line so I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I doubt that you get asked by many of your patients whether you know them.”

Draco smiles, “You’re right, I don’t, but nevertheless, I shouldn’t have been so rude, and I apologise.”

“Then I accept your apology, only if you accept mine.”

He goes to argue but stops himself at the last possible moment. You meet his gaze head on, watching the emotions pile up there. There’s something lingering in his grey eyes; something deeper as if he has more to apologise for but he isn’t ready to confess to what or why he even needs to say more.

“What was your second reason for being here?” You question, curiosity piqued but also wanting to move the conversation on, unable to look into his grey eyes any long for the fear that your heart may burst out of your chest.

Draco smiles, “I’m picking up my godson.”

“Your godson? Do I know who he is?”

“You might. Tobias Dawsey?”

Recognition flashes across your face as you picture the small brunette in your mind’s eye. “I do know him! I taught him last year,” You all but shout, “He’s your godson?”

Draco nods, “He is. I’ve worked with his mother from my very first day at St. Mungo’s, she asked me to be godfather when she found out she was pregnant with him.”

His words warm your heart; the care he has for his godson obvious in his voice. You go to say more, to try and coax more information out of him. Your need to know him almost choking you with its intensity, but for the life in you, you couldn’t figure out why you needed to know him. You move to speak, but you’re interrupted by the excited crow of a young child.

“Uncle Draco!” Tobias shouts, running up to his uncle on his little legs, his bookbag banging against them with every step.

“Hey kiddo,” Draco greets, picking up the child making grabby arms for him.

“Do you know Miss (Y/L/N)?”

Draco nods. “Miss (Y/L/N) came into work the other week,” He states, thankfully not exaggerating further.

Tobias frowns, turning his attention to you, concerned about his favourite teacher, “Are you okay though?”

You smile at the young brunette, “I’m all better. Your Uncle Draco fixed me up.”

Tobias nods seriously, “He’s the best Healer ever.”

You laugh; the love Tobias has for his godfather so clear within his voice, it only warms your heart further. “I have no doubt in that, Tobias. Off you go anyway, I wouldn’t want to keep you from getting home.”

Tobias and Draco wave at you as they leave the school grounds. The smile on your face doesn’t fade as you watch them walk away, the young boy chattering the ear off his devoted uncle.

Deep down, where you would only admit to yourself and no-one else, you hoped that you would get to see the handsome blonde healer again.

-------

Over the following weeks you spy Draco’s presence more by the school gates. Tobias clearly adores him, sprinting into his uncle’s arms the moment he sees him waiting for him. Crossing your arms across your chest, you comment, “You must be a very devoted godfather to volunteer to pick up Tobias this often.”

Draco shrugs nonchalantly as if the task of reorganising his shifts was nothing of a chore, “I enjoy spending time with him and…”

“And?”

Draco ducks his head, feeling the familiar heat of blush creep up his neck, “I like talking to you.”

He feels like it’s the wrong thing to say. He knows it’s the wrong thing to say. If he had an ounce of human decency within him, he would turn away from you the moment Tobias arrives. He would walk away from you, never to come back into your life again. What he did all those years ago was unforgivable despite having your permission. Draco knows he shouldn’t be back in your life, but now that he had seen you once or twice, he had to see you more.

He felt like an addict. He couldn’t leave you alone. Draco didn’t want to if he was honest with himself especially when you grin at him so widely his heart pounds in his chest.

You duck your head, your hair hiding your face. “I like talking to you too even if it is only at the school gate,” You shyly admit.

“Then we should change that,” Draco stutters out before he backs down. He wants to kick himself; he should turn away from you now and leave you alone for good, but that one selfish part of him that powers his heart tells him to stay put.

If possible, your smile grows larger, “Then we should change that.”

------

The friendship feels so natural once it starts; once the both of you get past the initial awkwardness that seemed to loiter from Draco’s cold words earlier in the year. It started with longer conversations at the school gate, but then he would come with Tobias’ mother and wait for you as Tobias would reluctantly leave with his mother. From there, it grew into a timid friendship that slowly grew more surer of itself as you invited Draco out for food or to museums or to spend the weekend with you, walking around the city when he wasn’t working.

However, as the friendship became more solid, you could not ignore the way your heart sped up with every smile and every laugh. You could not ignore the way your face heated each time he winked at you; a private joke shared between you. It didn’t feel like a passing fancy. It felt like something deeper, as if the feelings had been there before and had been dormant until now. You felt as if you were always meant to feel this way about Draco – the feelings tugging on memories you weren’t even sure were yours. Flashes of blonde hair and the powerful scent of jasmine all tied in with late nights in a tower you could barely recognise. Draco made you feel like the only person in the world; he was supportive and kind and funny. He was everything you could want and more – how could you not fall for him?

There was still the remaining secret though. It haunted him; his eyes clouded over whenever it was on his mind as if he was returning to the very memory itself. He would return shier, unsure of himself as if the friendship he had forged with you was about to implode and leave him shattered once more.

You ask him about it once. The two of you sat on your couch; you introducing Draco the wonders of muggle films and showing him your favourites when you catch him zone out. Your finger reaches out, pokes his cheek. “Where did you just go?” You question, a smile in your voice.

Draco reaches out, grabbing your finger, “Nowhere of importance.”

You frown, pulling your finger out of his grip, “You do that a lot.”

“Do what a lot?”

“Disappear on me. It’s like you have something big to tell me, but you just aren’t ready yet.”

Draco feels certain his heart stops in his chest. He tries to laugh but it comes out strangled; choked by the worry creeping up from his gut. Draco opens his mouth to reply but you beat him to it. “I’m not saying you have to tell me what it is now,” You start, “I just want you to know that I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Draco closes his eyes, rests his head against the back of your couch. You had so graciously opened your home to him, opened your life and offered friendship to him, and he felt awful. As he should, he thinks to himself. He had taken memories of importance from you, and here you sat, unaware of the crime and sitting with the criminal himself.

It felt like there was a countdown ticking over his head. It felt like he only had a certain amount of time until he had to come clean and he had to tell you about that night in the astronomy tower.

Yet for all that was in him, for all that created his moral compass, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you and ruin whatever was blossoming between the two of you. Draco supposes he is a coward. He probably is, he tells himself, but he cannot bring himself to care about his cowardice when you smile at him like he holds the sun and stars for you.

Does he regret that night? With everything within him. Would he do it again knowing the outcome? Of course he would. He would sacrifice himself and his happiness a thousand times over to ensure your safety.

---------

Draco tells himself he’ll confess the next time he sees you which is both all too soon and not soon enough. His love for you had never faded; he hadn’t been the one to forget the short relationship you had. The intensity that accompanied teenage love and infatuation had never left the forefront of his mind. After all, how could they? Now that you were back in his life, he felt the teenager again – utterly drawn to you and unwilling to let you go.

He confesses late on a Tuesday night. The shift at St. Mungo’s had been long and arduous, but he got through it with the single thought of you. He knew that at the end of it, he would get to knock on your door. He only hoped that you wouldn’t turn him away once you found out the truth. Your hatred of him could never rival the hatred he feels for himself, but he finds himself hoping for your forgiveness.

“I have to tell you something,” Draco states, plain and simple.

You chew on the inside of your cheek before answering, “You can tell me anything.”

“You had a memory charm used on you in Sixth Year, didn’t you?”

“How did you know that?” You demand. Despite the friendship grown between the both of you, you hadn’t told him that. You had given him bits and pieces, alluded to the fact that there were gaps in your memories, but you hadn’t told him the truth. Just like he hadn’t told you what made him disappear inside his mind like he so often does.

“I took your memories. It was me.” Draco confesses, his voice clear in the quiet room.

“What?” You shout, anger shooting through you.

“I took your memories. I used a memory charm on you in the middle of Sixth Year when things started to take a turn for the worst.”

“What gave you the right?” You cry, tears building out of upset and anger.

“You did,” Draco states plainly, “You didn’t want to at first, but you came round to my way of thinking when you saw how bad things were getting at home.”

“Why would I agree to that?”

“Because once upon a time, you were in love with me.”

You shake your head, pacing back and forth in your living room, trying to get to grips with the piles of information only just dumped on you. Draco watches you pace; his grey eyes following each step intently as you work through everything in your head.

Worry shines bright in his eyes when you stop pacing. He goes to take a step towards you, but you step back. The small space between you feels like a great chasm, a gaping void that Draco is desperate to fill, to patch up.

“Tell me everything,” You state before adding on, “Please.”

Draco releases a shuddering breath before starting: “We were friends through school. I don’t remember how the friendship started, but it did and for years we were really good, close friends. Then along the way, the friendship changed. We fell in love, or whatever it is at sixteen/seventeen years old. We had less than a year together when things started to change; when whisperings of the Dark Lord’s return were strengthened by continued attacks on the Ministry.

“You argued with me for hours,” Draco pauses, laughing as he remembers what you clearly couldn’t, “I had never seen you so angry or so stubborn. You were adamant, you didn’t want to but then you went quiet and I knew you saw what I had seen. You agreed after a minutes silence; told me yes even though it broke the both of us to do so.

Draco’s grey eyes are lined with unshed tears as he murmurs, “I couldn’t let them have you. My family was working with the darkest wizard there had ever been in the last century, if he had gotten a whiff of what you meant to me, you would be used in ways that not even I could imagine. My aunt would have taken great pleasure in ensuring that you would be a bargaining chip for me to fulfil whatever mission they handed me. That was something I couldn’t allow.

“It broke me to do it. To watch your eyes go blank as the memories of what we shared disappeared. Selfishly, I asked you to wait for me, not knowing that they would be tied to you afterwards. I just… I couldn’t let you go. As a teenager and an adult. There’s no real excuse for what I did, but know it was out of love for you that I did it.”

Draco falls silent. His heavy words adding to the growing tension in the room. Draco’s mind runs a thousand miles a minute; his eyes don’t leave you as he watches you work through every emotion coursing through your body. He sees the anger, the sadness, the frustration, but he also sees the relief at having an answer for those gaps that you had only recently confessed to him.

You break the loaded silence, “I forgot the relationship, but on some level I don’t think I ever forgot you.”

“What?” Draco asks, the air rushing out of him in one fell swoop.

A smile creeps across your face; relishing somewhat at having caught him off-guard. “I have glimpses of what I always assumed was a past life. The memories were always fuzzy around the edges, but they were clear enough for me to catch glimpses of blonde hair or to spy the pattern of a ring much like the one on your signet ring.”

Draco remains silent; he doesn’t dare talk; he doesn’t dare breathe. Nothing prepares him for your next words.

“I waited for you… like you asked.”

Those words. Those foolish words that he had absolutely no right to whisper to you. Draco had been so overwhelmed in that moment, yet he couldn’t ignore the small kernel of hope that despite the strength of the memory charm, a part of you would remember him and would wait for him.

But you had.

You had waited for him. You barely knew who he was, but you had waited for him, hoping that one day he would cross your path.

“Fuck,” Draco whispers, running a hand through his growing hair, starting to pace the length of your living room.

“When I woke after my memories had been taken, I clearly didn’t remember a single thing, but I had the echoes of three words ringing in my ears. A beg, a plea of someone – a boy asking for me to wait for them. I didn’t know completely who I was waiting for, I didn’t know it was you until I saw you at the hospital that first time and then again so soon after leaving. My memories haven’t returned, and I doubt they will, but I just know that it was you who I was waiting for.”

Draco falls silent, letting your words fall over him and sink into his skin, settling deep within his bones.

Years. It had been years since that night in the astronomy tower where he took your memories. It had been years since he felt the longing and love; there had been no-one lese and there would be no-one else. For Draco, there was only ever you… and you had waited.

You had waited for him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Draco repeats, hands continuing to run through his hair in frustration as he paces the room. He faces you; grey eyes wild with emotion, “How are you not angry with me?”

“I am angry with you! I’m furious with you, Draco! You took my memories, but if you say I agreed to it, I’m just as angry with myself for allowing myself to forget you.”

“What do we do?” He asks, a hand running down his face as he tries to figure out the next step.

“Forgiveness,” You state simply, “We try to move on.”

Draco’s hands drop limply at his side as he gasps, “Forgiveness?”

“What happened after you erased my memories, Draco?”

“There was a war. I was on the wrong side,” is all he says. He isn’t ready to go into too much detail. That’s another story for another day.

“Was that what you were trying to protect me from? The wrong side?”

Draco nods wordlessly. He saw things going south so quickly but his parents hadn’t. They pushed and they pushed; inducting him into the same pureblood fanaticism they relished. “How can you even think of forgiving me? I took your memories. I stole them from you, and you won’t ever get them back,” He argues, wanting to know whether you truly understood what you were doing by forgiving him.

“Let me ask you something, Draco.”

“What?”

“Do you plan on leaving again?”

He shakes his head immediately. He doesn’t think he could leave you even if he tried.

You shrug your shoulders, “That’s how I can think of forgiving you.”

“I don’t understand,” He whispers; his own self-hatred confused by your words.

“The wizarding war was about to descend into war. We were confused, scared teenagers who didn’t see another option. You asked my permission, Draco, and I granted it clearly.”

“But-”

You cut him off, “No buts. I said yes. I gave permission and we cannot change the past, Draco but we can control our future. It’s going to require work on both sides, but you can tell me about what I’m missing and at the same time we can forge something new.”

“What do you mean?”

You smile shyly, taking that all important step towards him, “Make some new memories with me, Draco.”

*****

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @liilyevanss @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @reaganwonders @just-a-belgian-girl @aspiringsloth20 @lahoete @minty-malfoy @fallinallinmendes @ravenclawbitch426 @ochrythum @beiahadid @gryffindors-weasley

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine

278 notes · View notes

squishmallow36 · 2 years

Text

Keeper of the Lost Prepositions - Twelve

Word count: 1.6k

Tw: Fitz angry

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added / removed): @stellar-lune @ichor-on-my-hands @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @snowflakewolves @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @books-over-boys @florida-llama-46 @when-wax-wings-melt @k00laidcrush @bowlcut-boyfriends @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizznee

On Ao3 or below the cut! Other chapters can be found here

My meeting with Tinker the next day goes as expected.

Approximately five words are exchanged between us, but I manage to message Amy through one of my human laptops.

Hey, Amy! This is Dex. Sophie’s friend. I wanted to make sure I did this correctly. I send after many rephrases and hesitating whether to send or to rephrase again.

Prove that it’s you she responds, very quickly, I might add.

Sophie mentioned once that you called me ‘Mr. Cute-redhead-with-dimples’ when you forgot my name.

She sends four—yes, four—texts back in rapid succession.

Wait...she told u abt that? I specifically told her not to

Fine

What do u want

And why arent u just hailing me normally

English is hard, so it takes me longer than I’d hoped to explain.

Okay, so, I’m a little bit paranoid that the Neverseen’s Technopath has hacked into the Foster squad’s Imparters, so I figured out how to message you through a laptop I made. Foster and I were hoping we could meet somewhere in the Forbidden Cities (your house?). We need your help with a thing and it’s better explained IRL.

Since when do u call Sophie Foster and how do u know txting abbrevs

How does she type so fast?

I’ve been spending too much time with Keefe and I’m trying to learn about humans. I made a human reference yesterday and everything.

�� Does tmrw like 2 pst work for u its the weekend here but I dont know if elves are weird like that

Sure, I’ll let Foster know. Wait, are you in class right now?

Obvi

That’s short for ‘obviously’, right? I don’t want to have to go to Urban Dictionary.

*sigh*

Hey, I’m better than the average elf about humans! At least I know something!

And u still fully punctuate your messages *shakes head disapprovingly*

Go pay attention in class.

U arent in class too and btw theres no way im gonna pay attention

Foxfire is on hiatus bc of the Neverseen until the Council decides it’s safe enough to go back. And your lack of apostrophes is really bothering me.

Youre trying so hard to be cool grammar cop

Pay attention in class.

Will u do my homework at the mtg tmrw

Did you know ‘mtg’ also stands for ‘Magic: The Gathering’?

Whys your ? Outside the quotes hmm

Bc the whole sentence is the question, not the part in the quotes.

I guess I managed to annoy her enough to not respond, or her mentor—wait, humans call them teachers—must’ve found that she is texting in class, which is usually not good. I’m pretty sure a decent chunk of my words are in the Enlightened Language, and assuming her teacher’s human, I’m not too worried.

Still a little worried. Welcome to my brain.

After telling Sophie about the meeting time, I spend the next hour or so setting up a scrambled feed for Foster’s and my registry pendants—did Keefe even take his off? I’m gonna have to go check for that.

I leap back home to make sure Fitz is doing okay, and I find him still baking in the kitchen, surrounded by mallowmelt, ripplefluffs, custard creams, and more that I can’t even identify off the top of my head.

“Well, somebody’s been busy,” I muse.

He didn’t realise that I’m back, or that he made so many different baked goods.

“I guess so,” he replied.

I grab a fork and one of the pans of still-warm Mallowmelt, saying, “I think you need an official taste tester, am I right?”

He shrugs, and does the same with another pan of mallowmelt.

“The good thing is that with the triplets, this’ll probably be gone faster than you’d think was possible. But you might want to stay away when they’re on a sugar high. It’s scary.”

He nods again, and I realise that he’s said approximately four words to me today.

“What’s wrong? You usually aren’t this quiet. I mean, you aren’t the most talkative—that honour goes to Hunky or your sister —but, like, you can carry a conversation, eh? So what can I do to help? Preferably in a way that doesn’t involve taking me away from this Mallowmelt—it’s really good.”

“No reason to worry about me,” Wonderboy replies, too fast to be believable.

“Except for the fact that the phrase ‘no reason to worry’ does anything but make me worry less.” At least I’m pretty sure it’s a phrase. It doesn’t have a verb in it, so I think that’s what it is.

“What do you want me to say? I’m fine! I don’t need you, or Biana, or anyone else to worry about me!” he snaps.

“You think I want to be your babysitter? Biana stuck me with you with no warning! Surprise! I might actually have a life!” I retort, which I regret as soon as it leaves my mouth.

I lower my voice and say, “Sorry. But, for better or worse, we’re stuck together, so you should probably accept that.”

“Like how I have to accept that Sophie’s moved on?”

“Have you thought that maybe she just doesn’t want to deal with a relationship right now? You weren’t the greatest boyfriend according to what I’ve heard, and, yes, I know she wasn’t the greatest girlfriend, but you know what? She went to the matchmakers for you! She went looking for her parents for you! And then when she found out who her mother is, she decided it would cause more harm than good to reveal her identity!”

“Figures,” he mutters.

“What?” I snap defensively.

“You’d be on her side. You know exactly how it feels to be rejected! By her, no less! I thought you, of everyone we knew, would understand, but I guess not!”

“In case you forgot, she’s my best friend.”

He snorts.

I glare back.

“And, actually, human studies have shown that being in a situation in the past that someone else is going through right now makes you less empathetic towards them!”

“Now that sounds like a load of steaming sasquatch poop!”

“I will Google it, right here, right now, if you don’t believe me.”

He gives me a look that I’m pretty sure says that he trusts me with the random human facts, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

He sighs after a few seconds, and it makes him completely deflate.

“What can I do?” I ask tentatively.

“I...I don’t think there’s anything other than time...And I don’t want to burden you with my problems…” he replies quietly, after a moment of contemplation.

“As I already said, we’re stuck together by the will of your sister, who probably has an extensive amount of blackmail on both of us if you try to refuse. Additionally, I want to help. Let me help. Please.”

“‘Additionally?’ Where are we? In the middle of a Metaphysics essay?”

“Yes.” I say as seriously as I can before we both break down into laughter.

“I ran out of transitions, and you’re avoiding letting me be useful.”

“How exactly do you plan on helping me with my problems that you shouldn’t even have to deal with?”

I cringe slightly at the preposition.

“Wouldn’t you think it would be slightly helpful to have a Technopath on your side in your project to find Alvar?”

“You could really find him? Assuming he’s still alive, I mean.”

“I found Ethan Benedict Wright II, didn’t I? And he’s been dead for like five, maybe six, years. How hard can it be?”

“Yes, but I don’t have access to Watchward Heath. I know that Forkle will disapprove of my search but…” he trailed off.

“...you can tell he’s still alive, and if he is, then he can still cause problems,” I supply.

He nods solemnly.

“I don’t know how, or why for that matter, but…exactly.”

“It probably has something to do with your sibling bond or something like that. Like how Hunky’s mother has done so much and part of him still loves her.”

“How do you just refer to him so casually?” he asks. “The mere thought of him makes me want to punch a wall.”

“First, most things make you want to punch walls, and, second, I know he’s going to be brought back here somehow, perhaps unwillingly, but I know he won’t be able to leave that easily.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Yeah,” I say, and grab a pan of chocolate-mint ripplefluffs because more sugar is necessary.

Fitz snatches one of them from my pan that I’ve very much claimed as mine now, and I almost screech at him. Then I remember he made them, so he’s allowed one. Maybe two if he asks nicely.

Mine.

Great, I sound like the seagulls in Finding Nemo.

“Just so you know, I’m gonna have to leave the triplets in charge of you again tomorrow. Foster and I have a meeting with Amy in the Forbidden Cities and it might take a significant amount of time. I have about three or four hours set up to scramble our registry feeds, but I’d rather the council didn’t know about our little trip and if the Neverseen are tracking us the same way, then they’ll know where Amy lives,” I mention.

“Okay. Do you think I could hail Biana to see if I’m allowed back home?”

“Yeah, but remember: baked goods are the best bribes”

“That was a lot of—wait what’s the word for when there’s a whole bunch if the same sound, not rhyming but, like, similar”

“Alliteration, or, more specifically, in this case, consonance. Because b is a consonant. I didn’t even try. But, am I wrong?”

He gets the go-ahead from Biana to be allowed to go back to Everglen, but has to take many more pans of mallowmelt and assorted baked goods than I would like.

Then again, if the triplets had gotten into that much sugar—I shudder slightly.

The world already has enough problems.

#kotlc #detz #Stars writing amy is so fun #hey this counts for #amy april

5 notes · View notes