#I was one of those when I was younger. Always made creatures and even entire worlds

[gatoburr0]

im so bored so AU lore drop in the middle of the night

I did this in ms paint and yes I was lazy so it looks shitty a bit on purpose

does this mean anything? no. I will continue to draw feral lesbians ripping each other apart because this is just a dumb comfort au

[art-missy]

Greed (Gekko x reader x Iso)

Yeah, I know.

But I love them so much. Plus, this one shot is heavily inspired by a dream I had and I wanted to write it down.

Thousand of apologies for the grammar or any eventual error.

Fade had faced many nightmarish situations in her life: she got trapped in a nightmare when her powers first manifested, she had been tracked down by several people who wanted her dead and she was regularly put in deadly situations since she joined Valorant.

“I hate my heart.”

But there was definitely nothing worse than hearing your complaints about your love life.

It had now been thirty minutes that you were groaning and whining in her dorm room, lying down on her bed and your head hanging on the edge.

“Mom was right.” You sighed in a tone that sounded way too dramatic to Fade ears. “I’m selfish and greedy as hell.”

“Why am I even listening to your rambling ?” groaned the Turkish initiator.

“Because I made you coffee.”

Fade wondered where you got all that energy that you used just for complaining. Did your mouth ever run dry ? She should have seen it coming. Since you joined the protocol, you adopted her as your ‘cool older sister’.

Your words, not hers.

You followed her like a happy younger sibling. She wasn't complaining. You brewed the best coffee she had ever tasted and your presence wasn't overwhelming. You respected her space and often gave her those midnight snacks you prepared that she grew fond of.

She liked you a lot. You were like the younger sibling she never had. But goddamn she hated hearing you whining.

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” she threw a pillow at you when you giggled at the word ‘straight’. “You love Gekko.”

“Yes.”

“But you also love Iso.”

“Yes.”

“And there is no way you could decide between them.”

“No way.”

It wasn't that simple. You loved them differently but with the same amount of affection.

Gekko had a sunny personality. He always brought with him that calm and laid-back mood that tended to ease people around him. He was what you liked to call a light-bringer (‘Not like Lucifer’ you felt the need to precise to Fade to which she just raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes.). The atmosphere of the room could be gloomy and thick with tension, Gekko would always dissipate any negativity. He was a genuine individual and that was a trait that you adored in him.

Iso on the other hand was like the moon (‘or a Teddy bear’ and this time Fade only let out an exasperated sigh.). He looked silently over his friends like a silent protector. Despite his more discreet personality, he never hesitated to offer praises when he could. There was a certain softness in him that always managed to melt your soul.

“They each own a part of my heart.”

Which was quite ironic if one remembered correctly how you met them.

The first time you met Gekko, you almost insulted him.

Cypher was giving you a tour of the base when Gekko appeared on the corner of the hallway and accidentally spilled his boba on your new top. The glare you had thrown at him was so intense that he freezed for a second before apologizing profusely. You had huffed and ignored him and continued your tour of the base. Your top was ruined. No matter how many times you tried to wash it, the stain stubbornly remained. One could not imagine how surprised you felt when, later, you saw a yellow animal-like creature in your room, putting a box with an apology letter on your bed. Inside the box, you had found the exact same top.

As for Iso, the first time you met him, you almost stabbed him. ‘Almost’ thanks to his reflexes.

It wasn’t your fault. Well, not entirely. You were in the shooting range, focusing on your aim when he entered. Tensed and feeling a sudden presence behind you, you pulled your knife out of its sheath and threw it at him. Of course, he easily dodged it with a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow as your knife planted in the wall behind. You apologized profusely and he had just shrugged and started to train with a sheriff. The rest of the hour had been awkward, especially when you went to retrieve your knife from the wall.

Fade hummed softly. “Okay. But that doesn’t explain why you’re avoiding them.”

A dramatic whine escaped your throat at her words. She watched you roll on her bed, hiding your face in her pillow.

“Everything is fine today, though. Right ?” said Fade. “You didn't hold any grudges against Gekko and neither did Iso against you. You’re even friends with both of them, now.”

You looked up at her with sad puppy eyes.

“Friends,” you repeated with a deflated tone. “I was fine with being friends with them both since I could not date them. There was a good balance. But now…things got complicated.”

Fade was now curious. It seemed like you weren't only being dramatic. Right now, you almost sounded desperate.

“What do you mean 'complicated' ?”

“I mean that the balance is now broken,” you groaned in the pillow. “Do you get that ?”

She definitely didn't. To her ears, your speech was as incoherent as a dream. It was the thing with your rambling : you rarely started chronologically and just blurted the first event that was nagging your mind.

“How did that ‘balance’ break ?” Fade sighed while checking her nails.

“Gekko kissed me.”

She immediately looked back at you. This was getting interesting.

“He what ?”

“On the cheek ! On the cheek ! On the cheek ! On the cheek !” you sat up quickly to precise it. “He kissed me on the cheek.”

Fade blinked. Unbeknownst to you, she already had a slight idea of what was going on between Gekko and you. Neon had been telling her about the Hispanic initiator sometimes sighing on her shoulder for two days.

“And of course you ran away,” she sighed as you let out another whine. “How did that even happen ?”

Your fingers were now fiddling with the pillowcase.

“Well, we were cooking snacks in the kitchen while dancing on his Spotify playlist. He was making crepes, I was making cookies and we were having fun valsing in each other's arms when it happened,” you made a noise between a sad whimper and a sigh of frustration. “Ambar Lucid’s voice can lead to some intense situations, I think.”

“And then you ran away.”

“The best run of my life,” you sighed sadly.

You’ve even been paying Wingman and Dizzy with sweets so they would not snitch whenever they found you.

Fade massaged her temples as she slowly processed what you said. She already knew you could be quite avoidant sometimes. And she also knew you hated being that way.

“What about Iso ?” she asked. “Is your ‘balance’ broken with him too ?”

You grimaced. “Kinda…?”

Fade raised an eyebrow. “Kinda ?”

“Kinda.”

“He kissed you too ?”

You shook your head and rubbed the back of your neck. Fade noticed how flustered you were.

“You know that sometimes Iso helps me perfectionning my aim.”

“Mmhmm,” Fade nodded.

It wasn't uncommon to see you both exiting the shooting range together. It wasn’t a secret that you two were quite close.

“Well, he was very…uhm…cuddly during our last shooting session.”

“Cuddly ?” Fade raised an eyebrow.

“Like, back-hugging me while helping correct my aim…breathing in my neck and murmuring instructions in my ear.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“The balance is definitely broken.”

You let your back fall back against the mattress in a dramatic gesture of helplessness.

“I know !”

“Then what do you plan to do ?” asked the initiator. “You’ll keep avoiding them both eternally ?”

“Well since you don’t want to put me in an artificial coma…” you trailed off, ignoring the deadpanned glare she shot at you.

Fade sometimes thought that your avoidance will bring you more problems than you reckoned. She remembered the regret in Deadlock’s eyes when she spoke about her sisters. Fade really didn’t want you to experience that.

“Talk to them.”

“To tell them what ?” you almost scoffed. “‘Hey ! I have a big fat crush on the both of you and was satisfied with our friendship but your recent actions unsettled the balance I had between your friendship and my feelings so I’m now avoiding you because I’m incapable of confronting my feelings and have a proper conversation about it with you two ?’” you said with a dramatically high-pitched voice.

Fade looked at you with so much exasperation in her eyes that you felt your body wincing in response.

“Well, yes.”

“Hazal, no !”

“Why not ?” she flicked your forehead with her finger and you winced once more. “Communicating your feelings wouldn't be harmful. Getting things off your chest with these two would help you. Don’t you think you’ll miss something if you don’t do anything ? The thing that you avoid you’re giving it power by avoiding it.”

You were about to answer with a snarky remark but the alarm of her phone cut you off. Fade looked at it, sipped the remnant of her coffee then stood up.

“I’m being called for a mission.”

You stood up too and stretched a little.

“Time for you to kick some asses and time for me to run.”

“You mean ‘to talk’ right ?”

You shook your head and walked towards the door.

“Nope !”

You were stubborn and Fade was well aware of that. It was sometimes your greatest quality but in your current situations, it was one of your biggest flaws.

“You—”

Too late, you were already gone. She could hear your quick steps echoing in the corridors. She sighed (again !) and just decided to prepare for her mission while hoping everything will be fine for you.

You kept running in the hallways, avoiding the range because Iso had the habit of training at this hour. You also avoided the corridors leading to the backyards where you knew Gekko had the habit of playing basketball with his buddies and Neon. Why weren't you walking ? Because walking made you easy to see, easy to catch. While running made you all blurry and hard to capture.

You had to survive, to run away. But running away from what ? Embarrassment ? Shame ? Your own feelings ? Whatever that was, your feet led you to the kitchen right in front of the fridge. If you had to survive, it would not be with an empty stomach. Luckily for you, there were still remnants of the cupcakes Clove made the day before. Very colorful, very sparkly, but delicious.

You were eating the cupcakes like a starved rodent when a voice suddenly called you from behind.

“Finally, we found you !”

You jumped a little, startled, then slowly turned around and met the astounded yet amused gaze of Jett and Neon. You silently stared at them for what felt like a few long and heavy seconds before you unhurriedly lifted another untouched cupcake to your mouth and slowly — very slowly chewed it.

Neon awkwardly cleared her throat then took a step forward.

“We…uhm…thought you were with Fade.”

You raised an eyebrow as you licked some icing off your fingers.

“Fade’s on a mission.”

“That explains why you’re here alone,” said Jett with a light chuckle while playfully nudging Neon’s elbow.

You hummed lowly. Were you hanging with Fade that much ? Not surprising. You literally adopted each other once you joined Valorant. You grew so close that come agents thought you actually knew each other way before you joined the protocol.

“You were looking for me,” you said, sizing the two girls. “What do you want from me ?”

The way they were staring at you reminded you of the twins in ‘Shining’. They weren't even blinking. They took a step closer, you took a step farther.

“Please speak,” you sighed. “You two are getting creepy.”

“We need your help,” said Jett.

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. Jett usually was too proud to admit these kinds of things.

“Why my help ?” you asked as you took another step farther.

They exchanged a quick glance before looking back at you.

“Gekko—”

“Iso—”

They interrupted each other as your brows furrowed.

“What’s up with them ?” you asked, feeling your body tensing.

They exchanged another glance when they realized they now had your attention. Jett took another step closer.

“They need help because they’re…uhm…”

“Hurt ! They’re hurt,” completed Neon.

You nodded and started speed walking to exit the kitchen.

“Okay. I’ll get Sage.”

Neon quickly stopped you.

“Sage’s on a mission.”

“Then I’ll get Skye.”

“She went back to Australia for her days off,” said Jett.

You stopped a distressed groan from escaping your mouth. Why didn't the protocol have more healers? You were just three. Were you that rare ? Plus, you thought that Sage and Skye were way better healers that you were. More effective and quicker.

“Shit…” you cursed under your breath. “Where are they ?”

“Iso’s dorm.”

You didn't think too much and just ran towards the dorm quarter. Like the worst case scenario machine that it was, your brain started imagining worrying things. Too buried in your dark thoughts, you barely realized that you knocked on Iso’s door. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow then crossed his arms.

“Can I help you with something ?”

Your eyebrows slightly furrowed when you didn’t see any visible injury on him.

“I…”

You cut yourself when you saw Gekko behind him. He looked at you with wide opened eyes, as if not expecting to see you —which was the case. You even saw Wingman, hiding in the corner of the room throwing you an apologetic look. You cleared your throat then looked back at Iso.

“Jett and Neon told me you both were hurt,” you said and you felt yourself internally cringing when Iso’s eyes squinted slightly. “Since neither Sage nor Skye is in the base at the moment, I’m here to heal you.”

“Heal us ?” repeated Gekko as he shared a glance with Iso.

The duelist let you inside the room and slid the door shut behind you.

And then it clicked. Neon and Gekko weren't playing basketball in the base backyard like usual, Jett wasn’t hanging with Yoru and Phoenix, and Iso wasn’t reading nor in the range. You were so worried that you didn't notice how orchestrated this situation felt. You didn't notice that Neon, Gekko’s best friend, did not seem worried at all.

“You’re not hurt, huh,” you clicked your tongue.

Gekko nervously rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward but sad smile.

“We kinda are, though.”

You looked at him with narrowed eyes. The poor initiator was incapable of looking at you in the eyes. Which was not the case of Iso who didn't stop staring at you.

“Are you now ?” you scoffed with sarcasm.

Gekko's eyebrows furrowed at your tone.

“You’ve been avoiding us for—”

“Sit, please ?” Iso interrupted the both of you, still looking at you.

“Why ?”

He tilted his chin in the direction of his bed.

“We have to talk,” he answered simply while taking the chair of his desk to sit on it backward.

“Do we ?” you crossed your arms.

“Please,” you heard Gekko say with a tired tone.

He was already sitting on the bed and was patting the space beside him. You rolled your eyes but reluctantly accepted to sit beside him. You kept eyeing the door and the two agents noticed it. The three of you stayed quiet for what felt like long minutes. You were looking down at your lap, unaware of the long glance the two men were sharing. Then finally, Iso spoke.

“Gekko and I are dating.”

Oh.

“Okay,” you said simply after a few seconds.

Your fists were slowly clenching.

“It’s been a few months now,” Gekko said while rubbing his neck.

You took a deep breath and nodded, still avoiding their eyes.

“Okay,” you said with a neutral tone. “And…?”

That was a plot twist you definitely did not see coming. Why did you feel so betrayed ? What were you expecting from these two ? You wanted to stay friends with them anyway. You felt your nails digging in your palms. Why did you feel so hurt ? Why did you feel so disappointed ?

“And we thought it was fair to tell you.”

You let out a breathy and mirthless laugh.

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, your eyes not leaving the door. “Why are you telling me this ?”

You wanted to walk away from this situation so bad. You needed to. This felt too heavy. You felt a lump in your throat and slowly started to have difficulties breathing but hid it the best you could. Gekko gently grabbed one of your hands and his thumbs gently caressed your palm where your nails were digging in your flesh.

“Because we both fell for you,” Iso said as his hand reached for your face.

His fingers gently brushed the corner of your lips where a few crumbs of cupcakes remained. He noticed your pupil dilating.

“We both spent time with you individually then fell for you,” he continued. “Despite the fact that we’re already dating.”

“So we talked and we wanted to ask you if you wanted to date us,” Gekko smiled nervously. “The both of us.”

You felt your breath hitching as his words slowly reached your brain. You blinked, looked at the duelist, then at the initiator, but you stayed quiet. Iso stood up from his chair to sit beside you and Gekko on the bed.

“Do you hate us ?” he suddenly asked you.

You silently shook your head.

“But you’ve been avoiding us for almost three days !” Gekko said. “We thought we did something wrong.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked where Wingman was hidden. Did he snitch ?

You turned your face back in Gekko’s direction to throw him a very pointed look. As if remembering the kiss from two days prior —which was certainly the case—, he avoided your eyes, a light blush on his cheeks.

“O-Oh.”

“Yeah ‘oh’,” you deadpanned.

“Sorry.”

Iso watched your interaction with calm but curious eyes. He observed your fist clenching and unclenching, how your body was turned towards the door of the room, how your feet fidgeted. His lover and his crush reunited in his room. It was weirdly not unwelcome.

“I suppose your answer is ‘no’”, he said with a neutral tone.

He would feel disappointed and a bit sad if your silence and your breathing wasn’t betraying your own feelings. He and Gekko exchanged a glance, the flame of hope burning in their heart. Gekko gently squeezed your hand in his and sat closer to you.

“Tell us how you feel.”

“What are you ? My therapists ?” you scoffed, not daring to look into their eyes.

“Please.”

And in just an instant, your shell broke. Your shoulders shook slightly, your hand was squeezing Gekko's with strength, and your eyes were on your lap. Exchanging another glance with the duelist, the initiator brought your wrist to his lips to kiss it. Iso, on the other hand, wrapped his arm around your shoulders to hold you against his chest, his lips pressing against your temple. Wingman even came out of his hidden spot to hug your leg. You did not need words. They were already understanding. Yet, you could not help yourself but ask in a shy murmur :

“Am I too greedy if I want you both for myself ?”

You felt Iso chuckling against you.

“Is it a bad thing if we consent ?”

You hummed. He did have a point. Gekko suddenly leaned against you, his arms wrapping around your waist and a hopeful smile on his face. You literally were sandwiched between the two agents.

“So…is it a yes ?”

Flustered by the sudden proximity of your two faces, you cleared your throat and looked away in the direction of Wingman who visibly encouraged you with silly gestures.

“I…guess it is,” you said. “If you still want me.”

“Can I kiss you ?”

You felt very dizzy by his sudden question, your heart beating at a way too fast speed. You felt Iso holding you more firmly against his chest. When you looked up at him, he was smirking down at you.

“Isn’t it my turn ?” his face got closer. “You two already kissed, no ?”

So he knew.

“It was on the cheek !” Gekko retorted. “And do you think I didn't see that kiss on the temple ?”

“What about the one on the wrist you just did ?”

You exchanged a glance with Wingman. He shrugged and you sighed.

“Guys !” you interrupted their playful banter. “Please.”

They both stopped then looked at you.

“Alright,” said Gekko while nuzzling his face against your collarbones. “How about some quality time to begin with ?”

“We have all our time,” said Iso while rocking you from side to side.

Believe it or not, I started writing this in july. Then my brain decided to throw a tantrum again.

Like I said (wrote) before, this one shot is heavily inspired of a dream.

Anecdote : I had this dream where I was an agent of the protocol and was avoiding Iso and Gekko because I felt too awkward to confess to them. I had healing abilities in this dream, and I healed them both after a mission (a pretty hardcore one) before running away in the corridors of the protocol (the exact same corridors we saw in the Neon cinematic). Fade even hid me in her room and let me play with her cat in this dream. Wingman ended up snitching on me, Iso found me and carried me on his shoulder while I was scolding Wingman. Iso then entered in his room (with me still on his shoulder) where Gekko was waiting for us, pouting. I was sat down on the bed and the two agents sat beside me and kissed my cheeks, asking me to not run away from them ever again.

And then...I had to wake up because my sister called me... ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

It's fine though, I had a lot of dreams where these two were involved... And when I say (write) a lot of dreams, I mean A LOT.

I even had a dream where Brimstone begged me to date Yoru and Deadlock and I was like 'sure why not'.

Thanks again for taking the time to read this until the end. I wish you a nice day/night.

[inubaki]

The Sea Queen (gift)

Chapter 1

———

story commissioned by the amazing @libby-for-life! Based off one of the first pics @sir-tater-of-the-tot made that got me hooked on this fandom to began with. I blame them entirely. ————-

Adam had lived most of his life as an orphan, navigating the world with a deep sense of solitude. The adults in his village often frightened him with their stern faces and harsh voices, their indifference making him feel invisible. Even the other children, with their boisterous laughter and intricate games, sometimes intimidated him, each taunt or exclusion echoing in his mind long after the moment had passed. 

At the age of ten, when most boys his age were in school learning, Adam found solace by the docks of his quaint island village. The salty air filled his lungs as he wandered along the weather-beaten wooden planks, searching for treasures hidden in the tide. His large hands would sift through the intricacies of seashells, each one a tiny masterpiece formed by the ocean. He often paused to help any little creatures in distress—crabs struggling to right themselves or seagulls trapped in fishing lines—as a flicker of compassion lit up his heart.

When the sun reached its zenith, casting a golden hue across the rippling water, Adam would simply lie down beneath the docks, feeling the cool shade protect him from the harsh sun. It wasn’t always comfortable; the rough wooden beams pressed into his back, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore sometimes echoed in his ears like an endless chant. There were days when hunger gnawed at his stomach, a constant reminder of his bleak circumstances. Yet, despite the trials he faced, he cherished his island village with an unshakeable fondness. It was here, among the gentle whispers of the sea and the cawing of the gulls, that he felt most alive, a small boy in a vast world, dreaming of a brighter future.

It was also where he met the being that would change his life forever. The sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the sandy expanse of the beach, where Adam often sought solace. Today, however, the salty air was tinged with an edge of desperation. His stomach grumbled audibly, a stark reminder of the meals he had missed. He had attempted to grab a few morsels from the food vendors earlier, but their sharp voices and menacing glares had driven him away, leaving him empty-handed and fraught with irritation. But Adam pushed those feelings aside, repeating silently to himself that he didn’t care about the food or the ridicule. He would cling to that thought, fostering an unwarranted sense of pride until it morphed into belief.

As he meandered along the worn path of the beach, his gaze was drawn northward, where a cacophony of yelps and hoots pierced the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. The distinctive sound of high-pitched laughter sent a chill down his spine; it was an all-too-familiar symphony that spoke of trouble. A band of boys, renowned for their penchant for picking on the defenseless, had been wreaking havoc on any small creature they chanced upon. Memories of their taunts and sneers played like a haunting melody in his mind. Adam's fists clenched tightly at his sides, determination igniting within him. He wouldn’t allow them to prey on the creatures of the shore this time.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Adam sprinted down the sandy beach, the sound of laughter echoing in the warm afternoon air. His heart raced as he approached the scene, and he slid to a halt, leaving a trail of fine grains beneath his feet. The moisture on his forehead began to bead as he took in the sight before him—a small group of boys, probably around seven or eight years old, clustered together in a circle. Even though they were younger and a bit smaller in stature, Adam had always been taller and broader than most of his peers at ten.

In the center of their attention was a small, trembling creature, the source of its muffled whimpers evident in the way the boys kicked and taunted it. Rage surged through Adam as he realized what was happening; instinctively, he surged forward, ready to protect the defenseless animal. The laughter that had filled the air was replaced by shouts and yelling as Adam confronted the trio, his voice rising above their jeers.

The confrontation quickly escalated into a chaotic struggle, with Adam shoving and shouting as he tried to shield the small creature from further harm. The boys, once bold and confident, quickly realized they were outmatched and began to retreat, their laughter fading into terrified cries as they scurried away, calling out for their parents. As silence settled over the beach, Adam knelt, his heart still pounding, to check on the little animal who had been the target of their cruelty.

Only… it was no ordinary creature that lay before him. This being was a bit taller, and if he were upright he would be towering over the ten-year-old boy. Its body was a bizarre tapestry of red and white skin, slick and iridescent in the filtered sunlight, contrasting sharply with the golden sands of the beach. Jagged fangs jutted menacingly from its maw, gleaming like polished ivory. But perhaps the most disconcerting feature of all was the tentacles that writhed restlessly on the ground, leaving shallow impressions in the sand as they gestured in a seemingly anxious dance.

Adam's heart raced, pounding in his chest like a drum; he instinctively swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight with fear. The thought of being devoured by such a creature sent a shiver coursing down his spine. His initial instinct was to bolt—to turn on his heels and sprint away from this nightmarish figure. But just as he prepared to flee, a soft, plaintive whimper reached his ears, halting him in his tracks.

Curiosity wrestled with terror as he turned slightly, his breath hitching when he encountered the creature's gaze. Those glowing red eyes held an unexpected depth; they shimmered with pain yet communicated a profound sense of fear. At that moment, Adam realized that the creature was not just a predator lying in wait; it was terrified as well, caught in a situation it didn't understand.

Adam sighed heavily, a mix of compassion and responsibility flooding through him. He felt a strange kinship with this strange being, both of them ensnared by their own fears. "I'm going to have to do the right thing here...aren't I?" He muttered.

Carrying the creature was a daunting task, especially given the palpable tension between them; it was clear they both harbored deep-seated distrust for one another. Adam, his heart racing and palms slick with sweat, tried to sound more assertive than he felt. "Look," he began, his voice wavering yet determined, "I'm trying to help you. If I leave you here, you'll die. Is that what you really want?" 

The creature responded with a low, rumbling growl that rumbled from deep within its throat. Adam’s pulse quickened, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to push past his fear and carry on. "Well? Let’s prove those kids who hurt you wrong, okay?" he urged, trying to inject some conviction into his words.

For a moment, the creature merely huffed in response, a puff of air escaping its nostrils, as if it were deliberating Adam’s intentions. Yet, there was a flicker in its large, wary eyes—a hint of understanding, perhaps, or a willingness to trust. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the creature seemed to concede to Adam’s plea.

Relief washed over him like a warm tide, but as he felt the weight of the creature shifting in his grasp, a nagging thought crept in: if he had known that saving this remarkable sea creature would be so fraught with difficulty and uncertainty, he might have hesitated a bit longer before diving into this intricate dance of trust and fear. Adam tightened his grip, resolved to navigate the challenges ahead, both for himself and for the creature he was determined to save.

Adam gently placed the strange creature onto a cool, damp floor of a small cave, feeling the rough texture of the rock beneath his fingertips. As he studied the creature, he noticed that several of its long, slender tentacles were missing, leaving jagged stubs where they had once been. A pang of empathy surged through him, and he winced at the thought of the pain it must have endured to lose those appendages.

"Okay, I can try to get some—" Adam was abruptly interrupted by a sharp yelp that escaped his lips. In an attempt to push himself up from the jagged ground, he had inadvertently pressed his palm against the rough, unforgiving surface of the rocky wall. A sudden, stinging pain shot through his hand as he felt a jagged edge bite into his skin. "Jeez..." Adam muttered under his breath, frustration mixing with the sting of the cut.

As he prepared to wipe the crimson stain onto his shirt, he suddenly felt a cold, slimy tentacle coil around his waist. A chill ran down Adam's spine as he belatedly realized the creature had ensnared him. He froze, the blood on his hand momentarily forgotten, as dread washed over him. The child instinctively stifled a scream, but to his surprise, the creature did not lunge or attack. Instead, it brought its form closer, its eyes studying him curiously as it gingerly sniffed his palm. In that surreal moment, Adam understood that it had no intention of harming him; it was merely inquisitive, and the fear that had gripped him started to wane.

He was not prepared for the creature to lick at his palm. Adam wrinkled his nose. "Ew. What are you doing?" The tongue was rough on his bare skin and he wiggled in the creature's grasp. It must have known that it was weird because he immediately looked at Adam with a pleading gaze before gesturing to his still-bleeding palm. Adam sighed reluctantly. "Fine. Go ahead." For some reason, the creature's face went red but it continued to lap at the crimson liquid falling from his palm.

Adam stood frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief as he witnessed a transformation right before him. Lucifer's body emanated a soft, dull red glow that pulsed like a heartbeat, casting an otherworldly light across the dim room. The creature's skin, marred by small cuts and bruises, began to mend as if some unseen force were stitching the wounds closed. Each laceration faded away, leaving behind nothing but smooth skin, a process that felt like pure magic to the ten-year-old. The creature smiled at Adam as he gave one more lick to Adam’s palm before letting him go.

"Had your fill? Good." Adam remarked, trying to keep his tone light despite the strange situation. The tingling sensation in his palm still lingered, a reminder of the bizarre encounter he had just experienced, but he chose not to voice it. 

Before him, the creature sat motionless, its deep red eyes glinting with an almost intelligent curiosity. It seemed to absorb every word he spoke. Adam shifted a little, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "Well...are you hungry?" he asked, a hint of hope lacing his voice.

In response, the creature perked up, an eagerness evident in its posture. It nodded enthusiastically, its movements fluid and almost graceful, which made Adam tilt his head in surprise. "You know...you're pretty smart," he continued, the admiration creeping into his voice. "I wish I could talk to you."

At that, something unexpected happened. The creature's skin flushed a vibrant shade of crimson, and it turned its face away, seemingly embarrassed by the compliment. Adam blinked, taken aback. Well, that was odd, he thought, as he watched the creature's demeanor shift from eager to bashful in an instant.

Suddenly, the creature gestured to its mouth, blowing air out before pointing to its throat. Adam blinked at it, trying to decipher what the hell he was witnessing. The creature turned a darker shade of red, before gesturing towards Adam to come closer. The child hesitated before complying. He didn't fight it when two tentacles wrapped around his face to make his mouth. When the creature blew air down his throat, Adam flinched but let it happen.

The creature released its hold on Adam, a wide and unsettling smile spreading across its face. “There. Now we can finally have a conversation,” it said, its voice a curious blend of smooth and gravelly tones. Adam blinked rapidly, processing the scene before him. Once, twice—then, impulsively, he let out a piercing scream that echoed off the damp walls of the underwater chamber.

The creature flinched at the sudden noise, its eyes widening in surprise. "Why are you screaming?!" It exclaimed, the earnestness of its query cutting through the panic that had seized Adam.

Backing away, his heart racing, Adam stammered, “You can talk?!” The creature, momentarily taken aback by his disbelief, adopted a deadpan expression and replied, “Of course I can! It’s you humans who struggle to understand us! Blowing air into your throat was the only way I could communicate with you that didn't involve you being underwater!” 

Adam barely absorbed the creature's words as he continued to fixate on the floor, grappling with the surreal revelation. “You can talk… you can actually talk,” he murmured, the incredulity in his voice betraying the turmoil churning within him.

He stared at the creature and the creature stared back. "Do...do you have a name?" The creature smiled. "Lucifer."

———————————————————-

To willing offer one’s blood to the kraken is one wishing to build a deeper bond. Bonds lead to.. many things for a kraken. Whether Adam actually becomes aware of that context, I doubt Lucifer would ever admit it.

Sorry. You’ll have to deal with my art on these few parts. I know.

Next:

[virtualreader]

broken hearts and healing souls – part 2

deanwinchesterxfem!reader

summary: a few days after the unexpected events that took place on the night of your biggest argument, Dean has a nightmare. And both of you are forced to face the feelings you had pushed aside.

word count: 2,1k.

warnings: nightmares, mentions of anger, kiss, regretful Dean.

part 1

a/n: you've been asking quite a lot for a second part for this fic, so here it is. I'm not entirely satisfied with the ending, but I still hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. also, as the part 1 was based on a song, i opted to base part 2 in another one — I’ll be good - James Young.

Another hunt, another city, and yet another sleazy motel room. But you and Dean still hadn't exchanged more than the essentially necessary words.

Ever since that night when you kissed, Dean had been ignoring you with perfectly applied silent treatment, as if you had turned into a ghost. Not that it was totally bad, a part of you preferred not facing the real issue.

Bringing the matter up would be like tearing off a scar, like reopening a wound that had never even closed. Blood would ooze from the raw, exposed skin, once again, and the pain would return, and it would hurt the same way it did when hearing those words escape his mouth: ‘this was a mistake’.

However, another part of you, though small yet present, longed for things to return to normal. To joke around with Dean again, like the time when he had made a hilarious impersonation of the local parish priest, and you had laughed until your stomach hurt. To get ingenuously mad with him for teasing you just because you were younger than he was. Damn, if you could go back in time you would have simply avoided that first argument altogether.

You stared at the ceiling, moisture stains here and there and the paint that once covered it, flaking off, revealing the rough surface underneath. Perhaps it had once been a grand and luxurious space, filled with beautiful furnishings and ornate decorations. But now, it was a shadow of its former self, a tired and worn-out shell of a room.

You should have known better. Hell, you did know better. You just didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he had no romantic feelings towards you and never could. You had become a part of the Winchesters' family a long time ago and grew up with them. Chances were Dean considered you his little sister. How could he be romantically involved with you?

I thought I saw the devil this morning Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue With the warning to help me see myself clearer

The quietness of the room was only interrupted by the occasional sound of a distant car passing by outside and the desultory barking of a dog nearby. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“What’s gotten into you guys?” had asked Sam the morning after the event, after noticing Dean’s unusual and dismissive behavior.

“None of your business, Sammy.” Dean had replied, not meeting your eyes.

You had tried to talk to Dean several times, but he would always find an excuse to leave the room or change the subject. It was like he was avoiding you, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Dean had always been like an older brother to you. You shared so many memories together, from hunting supernatural creatures to simply hanging out and joking around. But maybe, deep down, you wished for something more than just a sibling bond.

Trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in your chest was hard if not impossible. It was like a piece of you was missing, and you couldn't find a way to fill the void. Knowing this would be the end result, you would never have kissed him.

You may have felt fortunate to find a motel with two available rooms, but your luck ran out when Sam claimed the one with a single bed for himself. So you were forced to share a room with Dean.

I never meant to start a fire I never meant to make you bleed I'll be a better man today

You let out a sigh, feeling frustrated and lonely. You didn't want things to be like this between you and Dean, but you didn't know how to fix it. You knew that you needed to talk to him, to tell him how you felt and try to work things out. But you were scared of what might happen if you did.

You heard a muffled sound coming from the other side of the room. You turned your head to see Dean tossing and turning in his sleep, his face contorted in pain. It was obvious that he was having a nightmare.

With a hand, you tossed the bedsheets along with the flowery comforter away, uncovering your body. You rolled your legs off of the bed and slowly yet surely moved to a sitting position. You tilted your head slightly and tried to take a glimpse of what was going on in the adjoining bed, but failed pathetically due to the scarce lightning.

Feeling concerned, you reached out blindly for the light switch. After a moment of fumbling, you found it and turned it on. The wall-mounted lamp flickered to life, casting a warm, dim light throughout the room. Dean's grimacing expression was now clearly visible, and you hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“No! No, no!” he growled low, his teeth gritted. “No! Y/n!”

That you were not foreseeing.

You were taken aback by his outburst, not expecting it at all. What could he be dreaming about that would elicit such a strong reaction?

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times that I never could

Dean was sweating profusely. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and he was muttering incoherently. Waking him up seemed like an idea. Sure, you were mulish, but you were not some heartless monster.

You reached out and gently shook Dean's shoulder, trying to wake him up from his nightmare.

"Dean," you whispered, hoping that your voice would be enough to pull him out of his dreams. “Dean, wake up.”

He did not respond, and just as you were about to try again, he hastily sat up, his eyes wide, and his breathing heavy.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice shaking. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," you replied, relieved to see him awake and alert. "Are you okay? You were having a nightmare."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room as if he was trying to orient himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said finally, his voice still shaking a little. "It was just a bad dream."

Silence took over the place. You stared at Dean, and Dean stared at you, both waiting for the other to speak first. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife, and the eerie environment did nothing but add to it.

"Wanna talk about it?" you asked, sensing that there was more to his nightmare than he was letting on.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over to you before returning to the floor. You could sense that he was struggling to find the right words to say, and as the silence stretched on, you began to feel a growing sense of unease.

My past has tasted bitter for years now So I wield an iron fist Grace is just weakness Or so I've been told I've been cold, I've been merciless

"It was about you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

The confession caught you off guard. You were surprised to hear such a heartfelt admission from him.

“Me?” You could feel your pulse quickening as you waited for him to continue.

"Yeah. I dreamed that the demon got to you," Dean continued, his voice still trembling. "That I couldn't protect you. And then...then you were gone."

You felt a lump form in your throat at Dean's words, and you instinctively reached out to place a hand on his arm. Yet, you kept a reasonable distance between the two of you, unsure of how this could alter your current situation. Unsure of whether it could bridge the seemingly unfathomable gap that separated your wounded souls.

"Dean, I'm right here," you said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

But the blood on my hands scares me to death Maybe I'm waking up today

The mattress dipped while you sat facing Dean.

"I know that," Dean replied, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he woke up. "But...I don't know. It's like I can't shake this feeling that something's going to happen to you."

You could see the fear and uncertainty etched into Dean's features, and you knew that he was struggling with his emotions. It was hard for him to admit that he was scared, especially when it came to you.

But you also knew that you couldn't keep ignoring the elephant in the room. You needed to talk to Dean about what had happened between you, or you would never be able to move forward.

"Dean," you said, your voice steady but firm.

He looked away, his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists.

"I messed up,” he uttered, deciding to address the matter before you had a chance to gather your thoughts. “I didn’t want us to end up like this.”

"I know," you said softly, your heart aching at the sound of his voice. "But we can't keep avoiding each other like this. We need to talk.”

Dean let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, his entire demeanor reflecting the weight of the situation. Dean had always been good at avoiding his feelings, pushing them aside in favor of the mission. But this time, he couldn't do that. You both knew that it was time to stop tip-toeing around the issue and get to the heart of the matter.

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing you. Hell, I still am. That’s why I didn’t want you to go on hunts anymore."

Dean's voice was low and steady, but there was an underlying intensity to it that betrayed the depth of his emotions. He was laying it all on the line, baring his soul in a way that he had never done before.

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should (oh-oh-oh) I'll be good, I'll be good (I'll be good, I'll be good)

Afraid he would retract on opening up to you, you did not dare say anything, instead you fixated your gaze on his glossy, green eyes, encouraging him to continue. He took your hand in his, and his eyes softened.

“I don't think about you as a kid. It's just that…when you love something, you protect it.”

Dean's words hung in the air, the weight of them almost palpable. He looked at you, waiting for a response, his heart pounding in his chest.

The walls around Dean's heart, which had once been so solid and towering, had finally come crumbling down, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. It was clear that there was no going back from this point, as Dean had decided to tear down his emotional barriers and reveal his true self. The honesty and openness that he was displaying left you feeling speechless, as if you were witnessing something truly special and rare.

“Please, y/n. Say something,” he said with his voice at the verge of breaking, when you did not say anything.

“You love me?”

“I can’t pretend anymore. You are everything, everything.” Dean finally confessed, his grip on your hand tightening.

For all of the light that I shut out For all of the innocent things that I doubt For all of the bruises I've caused in the tears For all of the things that I've done All these years, no, yeah For all the sparks that I stomped out For all of the perfect things that I doubt

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But this time, they weren't tears of sadness; they were tears of joy. You had wanted to hear those words for so long – even if it was not a straightfoward 'I love you' –, but you had never dared to hope that they would be true.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Dean uttered. "The idea of losing you, of ruining what we had, terrified me. You were always like a sister to us, and when I first felt something more for you, I didn't want to admit it. But I can't keep pretending that I don't feel this way.”

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times I never could

“Dean, I-I…” you tried to say, yet, the words got caught in your throat, the upheaval of the moment hindering your ability to vocalise something coherent.

Delicately, he reached out and carefully tucked a strand of your hair that had come loose behind your ear. His fingers lightly brushed against your skin as he cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

Dean looked at you for a long moment, his eyes softening as he took in your presence. You could sense the shift in his demeanor as the distress that had been etched in his features not five minutes before, had now completely vanished. His eyes seemed to sparkle with a new sense of calmness and peace.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, sparks igniting as Dean leaned in close, lips brushing together, tentatively, for the first time that night, though not the last.

His fingers danced through your hair, caressing the back of your head with the sweetest touch. His lips parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slide inside his mouth, and a hint of cinnamon and vodka mingled together, creating a unique and intoxicating combination that lingered on your taste buds.

Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh Oh, oh-oh For all of the times I never could

“I love you too, Dean.” you whispered in his ear, momentarily pulling away.

And, as you held each other, melting into the kiss, you both knew there was no going back to the way things were before.

@losa12308 – as you requested, I'm tagging you in part 2 (I'm actually thinking of making a taglist)

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

Meet my new (old) AFK Journey OC Erin!

I thought of her half way through the Song of Strife Season, but then refocused on Lavinia instead, whose story I have already shared. I am not entirely sure what made me think of Erin, but at some point the idea of a "good" Hypogean crossed my mind. Possibly the fact that Talene's flames can distinguish between good and bad, which I read as being pure Hypogean or not... and so what if there is a truly good Hypogean? Would her flames hurt them?

And only THEN I learned of a certain other Hypogean, who is into Esperian stuff and doesn't really wanna fight them at all. xD *cough* Eugene *cough* So you may take the well educated guess that Erin is... simply his sister now. xD So let me share some facts about her below the cut:

Name: Erin

Sex: Female

Family: Eugene (brother)

Summary: Erin is a lively and outspoken personality and she much enjoys hanging out with people. Erin is extremely curious in everything Esperia has to offer and is most of her time trying to learn the various crafts and arts it offers. Since years don't mean much to her, she would spend a good amount of decades as master of her craft before moving on to the next thing. She hangs around Merlin a lot for they share the same chosen fate and she aims to remind them of the things Dura has tasked Merlin to do.

Early Life

Erin is Eugene's younger sister. She shares her fascination about Esperia with him and together they would roam the lands instead of trying to fight alongside their brethren. Being the younger sister, she enjoyed much protection from her brother, especially as she has a knack of getting into trouble (not quite unlike him, actually).

Eventually, Erin runs into Merlin and they become very good friends. Merlin actually is able to fulfill her wish of becoming more human, by enchanting a necklace that would hide her Hypogean form and aura when worn.

As creatures of great magical composition, both Celestial and Hypogeans do not really have to sleep (and eat). However, if they wish to retain their memories, they must take rest every couple of decades or centuries, for a nearly equal amount of time. Then they will retreat into the Leylines and the Realm of their kind.

Both Erin and Merlin are the only ones that have decided to forgo their memory, in favor of being more constantly in Esperia in order to help those in need. They trust, that they will remain the same person at core, knowing they could never do harm to Esperia. The downside of this method is that in regular intervals they will forget what they have done previously.

Usually this memory wipe is done voluntarily, so both, Erin and Merlin, pick moments where it's convenient to them. 

The reason that Merlin suffers from sudden memory-lapses could be two things (or both): they might have overdone it in the recent centuries and pay the price now by unexpected resets... or they perform many short resets now in order to be fully ready for the task ahead of them.

Since Erin will also forget her family, she and Eugene have prepared magical bracelets that are impossible to remove, always making sure that they know of each other (even if Erin doesn't remember anything about him after they part for the first time).

Prelude

Erin and Merlin become friends with Hogan and they join him in battle against various foes. One particular such battle forces Erin to reveal her true nature in order to save her friends. She is badly injured (probably by Scarlita) by loosing one of her wings and she is forced to retreat into her Hypogean Realm to heal herself. 

It takes her about 20 years to heal fully. She returns a little later than Merlin, just after the Song of Strife Season.

She is found by Valen in the streets of Holistone, as she was reported missing merely a day or two previously. Back at the Heroic Order building she reunites with Hogan. They consider her being reported missing a ruse and so Valen joins her to visit the one who brought up the case.

Of course this is a trap and it becomes clear that the Adamant Syndicate is behind it. They want something she possesses: "The Amulet of Life", a legendary necklace that would promise its wearer an eternal life.

This hunt goes on for a while until eventually Erin gets into the situation of having to show her true form and save the lives of others.

To make things more complicated, the current Celestials are also on the hunt for her, in particular Scarlita. Since Erin walks around in her human form, she is able to have plenty of conversations with those around her, including Talene. About the nature of Hypogeans, Celestials, prejudices and justice in light of actions and not factions.

It ends with a major showdown between Erin and the three Celestials of that time (Scarlita, Dionel and Talene). Erin only defends herself in frustration. Again, Scarlita manages to cut of the remaining wing and nearly kills her. Valen is ready to shield Erin from a lethal attack by Scarlita, but gathering up her last strength, Erin not only parries but also counter attacks the Celestial, blasting off her two arms, rendering her incapable to continue the fight.

Being at the end of her powers, she is ready to be permanently destroyed. However, both Talene and Dionel do not wish to do so anymore. Being too weak to heal herself (and others being unable to heal a Hypogean) Erin's last chance is her brother.

So Merlin and Talene venture out to wake up Eugene from his slumber. Since Merlin was there when Erin and Eugene parted (to protect the place of his slumber) only they can find it again. They manage to get Eugene, who travels with them to help his sister recover.

So Erin and Eugene become permanent residents of the Mystical House.

In theory, Erin's wings can grow back but it would take decades, so she might become mortal before she can regain them (though the fun she could have with them....! )

Future Events

Erin and Eugene will naturally have a look for Gavus and the kids, as they too decided to rest, but weren't there when Eugene awoke.

Eventually Erin is by Merlins side when they are put into the situation of a specific sacrifice having to be made to unlock a secret, or a spell or weapon. The sacrifice asks for an immortal life to be given away, and Erin is actually rather happy to do so. She emerges from the sacrifice as a humble human being (one of those things maybe even set up by Dura for this moment, similar to how Dura left clues to Merlin about how to deal with Phraesto).

[marie-swriting]

Just Live - Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Summary : You always feel like you have to work harder to be recognised as your own person, instead of just Natasha's sibling.

Warnings : Trace!sibling reader, reader is one year younger, use of they/them pronouns, set during the movie with some canon deviant elements, angst, mention of plane crash, happy ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 2k

French version

Request : made by anonymous, here's the link to the request. To whoever requested it, I hope you'll like what I wrote and again, sorry for taking so long to write it 🫶🏻

You’re with Payback, Fanboy, and your sister Natasha when you’re arriving in the Hard Deck so you can find the other pilots you’re going to work with for a new mission. You almost have no information about it, you just know you’ve all been called back to TopGun.

The second you step foot in the bar, you hear Hangman's arrogant voice near the pool table where he’s with his friend and fellow pilot Coyote. As if he felt you coming, Jake looks up towards you and catches Javy’s attention.

“What do we have here? If it ain’t Phoenix! And here I thought we were special, Coyote.” he exclaims with a cocky smile. “Turns out the invite went to anyone. Oh, there’s even Phoenix Number Two,” Jake adds, seeing you, “So, you’ve finally reached your sister’s level?”

At the mention of the nickname ‘Phoenix Number Two’ - which is, obviously, not your callsign -, you can’t help but be annoyed. Hangman always knows how to get under your skin. You’re about to reply when Natasha beats you to it. 

“Fellas, this here’s Bagman.”

“Hangman.” the concerned person corrects.

“Whatever. You’re looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”

“Stop!” 

“Mind you,” you start, looking him up and down, “the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War.”

“Cold War.” Coyote rectifies.

“Different wars, same century.” Payback specifies.

“Not this one.” Fanboy adds.

“Who are your friends ?” Javy asks.

You decide to not participate in the conversation any longer and go to ask for a beer. The assignment hasn’t started yet and you’re already sick of it. Sure, for once, you didn’t get more than one comment comparing you and your sister but it’s still a sore subject.

You’re only a year younger than Natasha and yet, those twelve months are enough for the entire world to use your big sister as a comparison. Even before getting in the Navy, you received a lot of remarks explaining how you should be more like Natasha; and this happened only when people were noticing what you were doing. In general, when you were a kid, your achievements were whisked away.

By choosing to be a naval aviator, you thought you’d finally detached yourself from Natasha as you’d be doing a job that is out of the ordinary. At that time, your sister was already in the army, she just didn’t know what she wanted to be in particular. A year before you officially became a pilot, Phoenix proudly announced that she wanted to be one, too. Your parents were immediately proud of her; they didn’t show as much joy when you had told them - as for you, you were irritated. Being a pilot was your dream, it was supposed to be the thing that differenciate you from Natasha, it was supposed to help you show who you truly are and now, it’s just one more thing that you share with your sister.

Your callsign, Griffin, is also another common point with Natasha. People from your year racked their brains to find another mythological creature so you could have a link with your sister. They meant well, you know it, but the fact is that even in the Academy without your sister, you lived in her shadow, in spite of yourself. With years, it drew you and Phoenix apart. You still get along and you’d do anything for her, though you can’t help but be bitter. You know it’s ridiculous, you’re mad at yourself for being this resentful towards her; after all, it’s not her fault, Natasha has always made sure people would see you for who you are, though it doesn’t change the way you feel. With time, you’ve learned to be discreet about this pain that is eating you from the inside. However, from time to time, like tonight, the pain and the anger that comes with it find a way to the surface. So, during the evening, you stay on your own, your beer in hand, conversing with people just enough so they remember you’re here but not enough to be the main topic. 

The mission you’ve been assigned to is the most dangerous one you’ve ever had. You all agree to say it’s almost impossible to complete it. Even Hangman is not cocky enough to pretend he’s confident about it. You’ve always given yourself fully for your work, however this time, you work twice as hard. It’s not only about your own survival but also for the other ones, including your sister. You might train every single day, it still doesn’t seem enough. In training,  no one has succeeded to complete this mission, except Rooster if we forget the fact he arrived at the target too late. Besides Bradley, you’re the one who did best before ‘colliding’ in the mountain just when you were about to hit the spot where the uranium would be. You could have succeeded if you hadn’t been distracted by Natasha and Bob’s plane behind you.

“Why are you dead?” Maverick questions, tensed.

“I didn’t communicate correctly and I didn’t notice they needed help.” you reply with a neutral tone.

“Exactly so, stop playing solo and learn to pay attention to your wingmen. Besides that, you had good technique. Phoenix, as for you, you know how to communicate but you have to be a bit more careful when you fly.”

Reluctantly, you accept Maverick’s critic. He’s not wrong, communication has never been your strong suit. You’re a very lonely person and though sometimes, this might be a strength, when you’re a naval aviator, it is not. You have to do better, you have to do like Natasha. It is not easy for you to admit it but you can’t deny Maverick is correct so you take it upon yourself to learn from his critics so you can be a better pilot, hoping you’ll be able to make it if you’re chosen for the assignment. 

Once the day of the mission has come, anxiety is at its climax while you’re getting ready to fly. Maverick is the team leader and you’re his wingman, Rooster is with Payback and finally Phoenix is with Bob. You do not feel at ease at the thought of your sister flying with you; you are scared something might happen to her. You try not to think of the worst case scenario and instead focus on what you have to do. If you want to keep your squad safe, you have to stay focused on your mission, not on your fear of losing Natasha.

In the air, you all do everything perfectly, completing the two miracles necessary for this mission. Now, enemy missiles are coming from everywhere and you do everything to avoid them. The flares you used to avoid them fly left and right while you keep each other updated on every new threat. There is no end, every time a missile is destroyed, four new ones seem to appear in the sky.

Adrenaline is running through your veins while black smokes surround all of you. In spite of yourself, you look in Natasha’s direction in case she might need help. Though, a missile going right to Bradley and Payback’s plane catches your attention and you fly in their direction to help them, except your plane gets hit in the process and you can’t do anything but fall down as Natasha screams in fear in your ears. 

The second you come back to yourself, you find yourself laying on the snowy ground. Thanks to your third unplanned miracle, you’re not hurt or your adrenaline is still high enough so you can’t feel the pain in your body. You barely avoid an enemy aircraft coming your way thanks to Maverick’s intervention who came to your rescue while crashing his own plane. Together, you find a plane for two before leaving enemy territory and going home.

After a landing more or less wonky, people present on the carrier cheer for you and Maverick as they know you’re safe and sound. You just have time to catch your breath before someone grabs you from behind and makes you walk to a room. Once the door is closed, you find Natasha in front of you and she hugs you, sighing in relief before taking a step back and looking at you with a severe expression. 

“What got into you? It was reckless to pull a stunt like that!”

“Reckless? I saved Rooster and Payback’s life.” you retort, outraged she’s mad.

“And you could have lost yours in the process.”

“I didn’t. I knew what I was doing.”

“No, you didn’t. You were ready to sacrifice yourself and for what? To prove something? To prove you’re a damn good pilot?” Natasha asks, knowing you too well. “Breaking new, you already are! That’s why you were chosen for this mission.”

“This has nothing to do with that.”

“Really?” Natasha questions rhetorically. “Y/N, I don’t know what you need to realise you’ve got nothing to prove.”

“Easy for you to say.” you reply, avoiding her gaze for a second.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone has always seen your talents. I have always had to fight to have a bit of recognition. No matter what I do, I’m only Natasha’s little sibling or ‘Phoenix Number Two’, I’m never just me. So, yeah, maybe I came to Rooster and Payback’s rescue to show I’m strong but what do you want me to say? Years of being invisible mess with your head.” you defend yourself, tearing up.

“That doesn’t mean you should sacrifice yourself at any given occasion. There are other ways to show your talent as a naval aviator. How would you think we’d react if you were to die after acting like you did? Sure, maybe people would recognize your achievements but we would be devastated, I would be devastated.” Natasha exclaims, her voice breaking. “And now you must think I’m insensitive because I’m making this situation about me and maybe I am, but if that’s what it takes for you to understand how dangerous and stupid what you did was then so be it.”

“I’m just tired of working harder just to not be seen.”

“Y/N, it’s not the case anymore.” she affirms, taking a step forward. “We’re not kids anymore. If people didn’t see you, you wouldn’t have been called back to TopGun and you wouldn’t have been Maverick’s wingman and yet, you were. It’s probably easier said than done, however you have to realise the child version of you who was never taken seriously has grown up and showed they had guts. I’m not saying people will stop comparing us but they don’t see you as an extension of me anymore, they see the real you now.”

“You’re probably right.” you end up saying, wiping a single tear on your cheek. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You better not do that ever again or this time, I’d be faster than Maverick and find you so I could kick your ass.”

You lightly chuckle before taking your sister in your arms again. Slowly, you feel the adrenaline leaving your body as you integrate the words you’ve exchanged with Natasha. She’s right, you have to realise things aren’t like they used to. Maybe one day you’ll finally be able to do it. Maybe you’ll finally let go of this idea you have to fight to be seen for you and you only, maybe one day, you’ll finally be able to just live.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

[crackrodent]

Check out the rest of my Flufftober library!

Black Cat's Problems

My kitten had been missing for hours. The day after the chaos she usually stayed glued to me but now she is missing. I had checked if Razzle or Dazzle had seen her and they hadn’t. I checked the entire decrepit hotel. The dust and cobwebs on almost every surface sat undisturbed. The hotel was dying for some tender love and care. As was my sweet kitten.

Ever since Mom left that kitten has been my sole source of comfort at night. Forehead kisses as I drift off. The warmth keeps me comfortable all night. Then the reason I get out of bed at all the next morning. She was my kitten no matter how old she got.

She was never a very good cat though. As much as it pained me I often had to try and teach her how to do most cat stuff. She never wanted to play much. She would if I brought her the stuffed mice or plastic balls with the little bells inside but she never sought them out on her own. Sometimes I would set her up with some toys to keep her busy and it would work just until I took my eyes off her. She just mostly laid around on books or the floor or couches. Weird little thing.

She had gone out again. I was almost sure of it. I had told her not to but she seldom listened to me. She had a mind of her own. Dad always warned me. Especially in her younger years when she was still learning how rough was too rough. Kittens ideally do best in pairs but it wasn’t an option I suppose.

I think she may have been a bit like Dad. She did used to always want to play with the ducks in his office. Not great toys for kittens and Dad was occasionally disappointed to find teeth marks on his ducklings.

Mom, well she would listen to her sing for hours. They would go back and forth until my kitten’s voice would be so sore she could barely squeak. I miss those days often. Not the squeaking. Mom’s singing.

I began pacing the halls in case maybe she wasn’t gone and was only hiding. The examinations were hard on her each year. The screams and gunfire from sinners trying to buy time infiltrated her ears like a New Year party gone wrong. She would usually crawl under the blankets and shake until Mom, Dad or I comforted her. Told her it was all right. It was just the sinners they were after. We were safe.

My poor Kitten had been extra frazzled the first year without Dad. Now with Mom missing too, I guess I couldn’t keep her feeling safe enough. What if she ran away?

The pacing was doing no good. I started checking the rooms. One year she hid under the bed for hours just shaking. Maybe if I check all the rooms that had beds she’s under one!

The usual room we slept in was clear. The bed was made so I know she’s not hiding under the covers either. The other rooms were dusty and undisturbed.

I had already checked the kitchen but I was desperate. The dishes were still in the sink and the bowl of water was still half full.

I ran back to the living room and asked Razzle and Dazzle if they had seen her yet and they ignored me again. I started up my pacing again in the hallway. It was all I could do. It didn’t help but it passed the time.

Then I heard the sound of the door open. I ran to the front door and saw my kitten was home!! Oh, my good little kitty was the best cat! She was scared of the exorcists? She just must have craved their wings so much it overpowered the fear! I mean why else would she be dragging a maimed angel to the living room?

My baby kitty did so well! My heart swelled with pride as I watched her grab the popcorn bowl filled with water and started cleaning off her catch. The broken creature flinched as my kitten wiped the cuts. I jumped up and attempted to help her but after just a couple of licks, food aggression must have kicked in and I was removed from the couch. She had grown up so beautifully. The past 200 years at her side I could never trade for anything.

She faced the monsters she hid from every year like she didn’t even recognize them. Maybe Mom and Dad being gone truly is what my Charlotte needed. With either of them here they surely would stop her from bringing a half-dead catch inside. They sure stopped me whenever I tried.

[greenorangetree]

a lot of people have said that the den o ending took away from the emotional impact of the set up for it. i honestly dont quite think so.

i think the imagin getting to live is another heart touching part of their story. they are imagins, intangible sand creatures who prey on people in their worst moments, twisting their deepest wishes in order to go back in time to the absolute most important time in their lives to destroy the timeline from there, yet clearly have chosen to do good--they have love and affection for their contract holder and do not want to simply use him for any ends of their own, they have chosen to sacrifice themselves in order to save this timeline, a time they are not even from, a time with happy and sad moments alike, all because of what being a part of den o has done to them. they have grown from the uncaring and often cruel imagin they were at the start, hurtful to ryotaro by using his body as they felt, hurting him physically, trying to kill him, etc, to beings who genuinely adore ryotaro as a part of their family in a way. getting in one last defiance to their nature by getting physical forms and a FUTURE because they chose to save this timeline and created memories with people instead of destroying it entirely, that twists my heartstrings and definitely made me cry on my first watch and my many rewatches of den o.

now why do i say all of this about den o's ending? i want to mention how much i love it already and that is why the version of it where the imagin dont get to live absolutely would have CRUSHED me.

think about it:

- ryotaro is absolutely crushed. he has always been destined to be alone by nature. he is a singularity point. he can remember everything while everyone else forgets. his family died at an early age, his sister's fiance left and took with him his sister's happiness, who, mind you, is his only relative left, and also had to drop out of high school because of that. the one time he gets to make some close connections with anyone, who also remember because they were theyre with him and had his back through all the bullshit that was thrown at him? they get erased alongside the rest of their kind. they fought so hard to save the timeline, a timeline they didnt belong to, just because ryotaro showed them that they could do better than their own natures? who fought despite ryotaro's fear of losing them? this would absolutely destroy ryotaro. how could he go back to living life while also grieving the loss of the intangible demons that lived in his head? every little thing they left behind-- momotaros's wardrobe that he spent all of ryotaro's cash on, gifts left from urataros's paramours, kintaros's weights and gear, the drawings ryutaros made-- all of these tangible things that were left by the imagin, who didnt get to live for themselves without being tied to ryotaro as their only anchor for existing in this timeline? seeing them without the imagin who they belong to would be absolutely devastating.

- airi, who has gone through this intense period of grief before over something she couldn't remember or understand, once again has to deal with it, except in her brother. she can't really understand what hes been through, but she can remember those times when her little brother wasnt acting quite like himself, but rather someone quite younger and more impulsive, yet clearly loved her with a passion, just like her brother does. she can only do so much for him, like how he had to do for her merely a year ago. she can't help him through the worst of it, but also has to deal with her own memory problems and lingering grief over her fiance.

- hana would have to go back to being alone. she has no where else to go, as her future and her timeline is gone, erased. living alone on the denliner in the time before ryotaro and his merry gang got on board would havr been hard. she had just lost everything in her life, after all. but now, having seen the denliner full of life and color and energy with those imagin, having to go back to the cold, empty, sterile interior of the denliner's dining car? even naomi is crushed by the loss. it hurts to lose everything once, but this life that shes managed to rebuild in some sense of normalcy had made her happier, nicer. losing it all again in one fell swoop, once again powerless to do anything, that is absolutely despair inducing.

- and of course, sakurai yuuto. unlike hana, he really IS alone. hana has naomi, owner, any passenger who boards the denliner from time to time, but aboard the zeroliner? just him and deneb. without deneb, he is truly alone. he doesnt belong in the timeline anymore. it was his own (future self's) doing, after all. what life he had, he chose to leave it. for all the time he spent protecting time, he had his partner with him. he cooked and cleaned and tolerated yuuto's aggression. he may not have been the nicest, hell he hated deneb's over enthusiasm, his overbearing compassion, the shittake mushrooms in his food, and showed it through violence, but what was he supposed to do without the one who's been through it all with him? whos been his carer, his one connection through it all? deneb was someone who, knowing his fate, left behind one last meal for yuuto, and simply requested he eat his mushrooms, too kind for his own good, and is now gone forever. yuuto isn't a singularity point. he cant change things or protect the way ryotaro or hana can through their memories. but he has done everything in his power already to protect his former time. he has already sacrificed it all--the memories of himself, memories are time, after all, and it is the most he can ever give. he has never felt more powerless. he has felt lost, just doing what his future self had told him to do without any real connection to what he was protecting, sure, but never has he felt so useless in the way he feels when he couldnt even protect deneb's existence.

yeah im going through it, the den o time tripping ride! honestly this was a fun brainworm to have lol

[deadpool15]

Overshadowed Ch.1

"Hey, look at me. I don't expect you to the most perfect fucking man. There is no such thing. You have scars from the stuff you've been through. It's understandable. I understand you, si-o. I don't want you to change your plans or anything unless you truly want that. I won't expect anything from you except to be honest with me." I slowly clasp my hands upon his face, holding him with my gentle touch to let him know I wouldn't hurt him. After all he has been through, I want him to know I'm the last person who would want to hurt him. "I want you to trust me, I know I must earn your trust, and I will do everything in my power to show you how much I care for you. No more pain, ok? I'm not leaving."

I needed him. For the first time in my life, I had felt like I was wanted, loved. This feeling couldn't be replaced by anything my mother had gifted me over the years to make up for her lack of parenting. Though, I knew si-o had never felt such love either. He was used to pain and resentment. I wanted to be the one who showed him there was more to life than those things. I didn't want to change him. Sure, he had flaws and issues, but I wanted to embrace all of them. They were a part of him, making him who he is today. My father once told me he adorned the villains in fairy tales. Younger me had questioned that for a long time, though know I see it. A hero would sacrifice you for the sake of the world as if you meant nothing. One casualty means nothing compared to thousands, yet a villain would sacrifice the entire world for you. Thinking more about it, why was the villain deemed bad in reality? The hero was selfish, thinking one could have it all with no consequences.

Imagine someone's love for you to be so passionate and devoted that they would sacrifice everything for you without a second thought. I had never seen a love story in real life. My parents went divorced because my mother prioritized work over her family and because my older sister had gone missing in a foreign country. They made it seem like their love died, though I always felt like my father held more love for my mother. My mother cared for nothing but money and having a daughter. She had two, one that possessed the strength of the many generations before her, then there was me. I was adopted at age 2. I can't remember a thing about my biological parents, but I had an amazing relationship with my father. He was the one who loved all of his children equally despite only the three of us having superpowers. In my mother's eyes there was only nam-soon.

Completely neglected by her my entire life. I was invisible, one would say. Whenever she missed a dance rehearsal or important event in my life, she loved to buy gifts. Overly priced gifts, hoping it would make 4 year old me forget that mommy hadn't bothered to show up again because of work. Money was everything to her, and I wasn't. I grew envious of my sister. Of course, I missed her while she was gone, but would it be an evil thing to say a small sick part of me was happy, thinking mother would have no choice but to pay attention to me. I was wrong. Nam-soon this, nam-soon that. Hosting strength competitions and constantly fixing her favorite dishes at dinner. I hated myself, why couldn't I be happy she was back? Why was I so jealous of her? And why can't I make my mom love me?

When I met si-o, all that changed. I had shown up to give nam-soon her lunch for the day. She had been undercover working with some cop she liked, and it was obvious he liked her as well. Now no one in the public knew of me, after nam-soon went missing our parents thought it would be best to shield the world from us. I was known as the spoiled rich daughter of some famous ceo. No one bothered to ask who? I stumbled upon this man, taller than me. Bumping into his chest, which was as far as my head could reach, even in heels. He was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. I wanted him to be mine.

Chapter 1: Overshadowed

Chapter 2: To be loved

Chapter 3: You and me

Chapter 4: Second place

Chapter 5: Love is hard

Chapter 6: No matter what

Baily Bass(oc)- Danny

Byeonwooseok-Ryu-si

Other characters are their respective characters.

[bambifornia]

more swindle headcanons because he won't leave my brain and i'm tired of him

crazy good at math. he's able to calculate the price/cost of something within seconds. the only reason he's not a mathematician/accountant or anything like that is because swindle wouldn't do well with those jobs. swindle likes moving on his pedes, not sitting behind a desk

extremely well-versed in politics. but not because he's very political or anything; swindle just likes knowing where and when the next intergalactic war is raging so he can profit off it. it helps to keep up with the news

workaholic. though this trait is less notable to see in him than say, someone like optimus (mostly because swindle takes great care not to let his exhaustion be shown. his image MUST be perserved, after all)

used to keep a diary in which he noted anything interesting he found on the planets he traded with. he was actually semi-organized with it, and even included some crude doodles of the organics he ran into. he stopped journaling once the war broke out, though, and hasn't journaled since due to fear of his diary being used as blackmail

answers questions like a politician. if u want a straight answer from swindle then good fucking luck LMAO. he doesn't like to go into detail about his past. it's all old news, anyway

he's a Beyonce fan. i feel it in my bones

puts effort into his image. granted his image got fucked over ever since he defected to the decepticons LMAO but the point is that swindle tries to make himself look better than he actually is.

surprisingly open-minded. he has to be. if he were to be openly xenophobic to the multitude of alien races he trades with, then his business would tank. besides, he's actually pretty curious about other worlds besides his own (ex; how he mentioned he spied on the human villains in the SUV episode, and thought their whole get-up was "exciting")

he hates hates HATES the cold. if he HAS to do business in a cold planet, he will bitch and complain about it the entire time except when he's in the negotiating room

when he was a young bot, swindle was pretty open book. that's not to say he didn't LIE back then, it just so happened that swindle was created with a super expressive faceplate, and you could always tell what swindle thought based on whatever look he was giving you. this got him into some...issues (dw he learned how to keep a poker face later on)

not the jealous type (how can he be jealous when he's the most wanted bachelor on cybertron?) but on the rare occasion that he IS, he gets real quiet. probably sulks to himself in a corner while sipping on some energon. if confronted, he'll brush it off but don't you doubt it for one second; he is PISSED

says he doesn't have any regrets or moral dilemmas about his job, but that's only half of the truth. swindle takes care not to give himself enough time to think about the past. it makes living easier that way. and swindle is a creature who seeks comfort, even if it inconveniences everybody else around him. don't try to call him out on this bad habit of his; he will huff and excuse himself by claiming you'd do the same thing too if you were in his shoes (or pedes?)

he does not like keeping living things in his subspace. he's made the mistake of storing a organic he thought was cute when he was younger, and it ended up with a trip to med-bay (surprisingly, organics don't like being in strange voids filled with nothing but weapons)

fantastic at detecting scams. he doesn't have a mod for it or anything, he just KNOWS

has a """"healthy"""" amount of paranoia. he claims he's just looking out for himself, given the kind of business he's in, but there's times where the paranoia really fucks with his health

really likes sprinkling those "infomercial phrases" into his daily speech. he thinks it makes him sound suave. thought he sometimes fucks up with the delivery and he just gives up mid-way lmao ("guard the prisoners...orrr loot the ship? it's a no process-...or? er? err..." - a direct quote from decepticon air)

he's mostly self-aware. the only thing he isn't honest about to himself is his own emotions

whenever he feels stupid stuff like "fear" or "stress" or (shudder) "remorse" he takes a look at his bank account. it helps him, in a weird way. because yes, he's an outlaw, and yes, he's technically gambling his and everyone else's life, and YES, there's days where he winds up battered and broken, barely an inch away from death, but...at least his efforts aren't for nought. they're adding up to something; with every corpse, swindle's wallet gets fatter. and with all that money in his servos, swindle might be able to buy himself the one thing cybertron can't offer him: peace

^ swindle thinks he deserves this. he delusionally believes he deserves peace and riches more than anybot

[ladytauria]

👀👀 meeting in the ER with damitim pls?

thank you!!

this is more urgent care than ER---actually, i'm picturing this happening at Leslie's clinic?---but. still on theme xD it's also heavily inspired by this post, bc... it's just so damian, you know?

“So… you said a cat did this?”

“Ah… yes.” Damian is distracted—not by the distant tug of a needle, in and out of his skin, but rather by the man doing the stitching.

He would not call him the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, but the man is certainly… attractive, with his sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose. Most striking is the pale, ice blue of his eyes; made even more so by the dark circles under his eyes.

Damian can relate.

“It was a kitten, actually,” he admits, somewhat reluctantly. 

That gets those eyes on him, the needle stilling. The nurse’s brows raise. “A kitten?”

“She was very fierce.” Normally he keeps gloves in his car for such an occasion, but he had taken them out to wash them, and— Well. Of course he ended up finding the kitten before he got them back into his car.

"I see," the nurse says, a smile tugging at his mouth. "I wonder if I'll be stitching up the next poor person to find her, too."

Damian sniffs. "Hardly," he says. "She's in my car." His emergency kennel, luckily, had still been there. He hated to leave the poor creature out there—on the way over, he had contemplated calling Richard or Todd to pick her up for him. However, neither of them was likely to listen to his instructions to leave her alone. Richard because he would believe he could befriend her, and Todd because he would underestimate the severity.

Pity Cassandra was out of town.

Pity Jon lived two hours away.

“Huh.” The nurse goes back to stitching. “You didn’t let go?” He sounds vaguely impressed. Damian cannot help the way he puffs up with pride.

“Of course not,” he says. “I would hardly leave the poor thing out there to suffer. Fierce or not, Gotham’s streets are no place for a kitten.”

The curve of the man’s mouth turns—soft, almost. It is reminiscent of a look he often sees from Richard, though it incites a different feeling in him entirely. He feels… warm. His fingertips tingle.

“Of course not,” the man echoes, softly. “Do you do that a lot? Rescue kittens, I mean.”

“At nearly one in the morning? No, not typically,” Damian says. “However, I volunteer at an animal shelter, and I am enrolled in the veterinary program at Gotham University. I find myself rescuing many animals.” He also had, vaguely, considered the notion of stitching himself up. It was only the knowledge of Richard and Pennyworth’s disappointed faces that had sent him to the clinic, instead.

“Huh,” the man says, thoughtfully. “So what happens to the kitten now?”

“She is young enough it should be fairly easy to socialize her,” Damian says. “Once she is used to people, I suppose I will look into finding her a home.” He would keep her himself, but— He has reached his limit on the amount of animals he can realistically take care of. His younger self would scoff at this, but part of adulthood was learning his limits. A dog, two cats, a snake, and several fostered kittens were certainly his.

The nurse hums, snipping the thread. He lingers at Damian’s side. “You know… I always wanted a cat. Do you… think I could call you, sometime? Maybe arrange a visit?”

Damian’s pulse quickens. “I—yes. I would be, ah. Amenable to that.”

The nurse smiles. The brightness of it steals the breath from Damian’s lungs. “Cool,” he says. “Hold on just a second.”

The nurse disposes of the needle and washes his hands before snagging one of the brochures from the countertop, by the sink. He withdraws a pen from his pocket and writes, quickly.

When he passes it to Damian, he winks. “You should be good to go now, Mr. Wayne.”

“Thank you,” Damian says, sliding off the exam table. As he walks out the door, he glances down at the paper. On it is a phone number, which Damian memorizes automatically, signed—

Tim Drake. Call me :)

Next to words is a doodle of a cat, wearing what is likely a nurse’s cap.

Damian is impossibly, terribly charmed.

[ send me an au if u like~ ]

[skelebellie]

Decided to do the “Who is Rook” format by @vael-fire . This is mainly for me, but I dont mind sending my doomed creature out into the wilds. this will be posted in parts, and ill link each one as they come out

Who is Rook?

Name: Lukius ‘Rook’ Ingellvar

Pronouns: They/Them

Race: Elf (Since they dont know their background, their considered a City Elf)

Faction: The Mourn Watch

Class: Mage

Specialization: Death Caller

Before the Veilguard

1. Where was Rook born? Who were their childhood family and friends? What did they spend their free time doing as a child? What did they want to be when they “grew up” if anything.

Lukius was found in the sub-levels of the Grand Necropolis, off a beaten path where families would come to celebrate their loved ones at their plots. As for childhood family and friends, their family would never be identified. However, they formed a lovely relationship with many of the skeletons that perused the Necropolis. Identifying them by tying colorized string to their wrists. Nonetheless, they were an overall solitary child considering the lack of children present, and made due with the local wisps and spirits.

2. Where and how was Rook educated? What did they enjoy learning; what did they dislike learning? Who did they admire most? Who was an example of what not to do or be?

Lukius would receive little education at the beginning of their stay at the Necropolis. Receiving enough to help them read, write, and count. Primarily from older Mortalitasi who were training far older children in necromancy. They had always admired Vorgoth, for his careful controlling hand and overall sound leadership skills. Considering the age they were upon arriving, and then leaving, there was little in terms of first impressions.

Upon arriving back to the Necropolis at 7, Vorgoth had become much more of an inspiration. Or rather, a source of comfort. As Lukius would hang around them, connected at the hip. As they stated in their younger years, “He’s quiet”.

3. How did they experience gender as a young person? Did they grow up in an environment of strict gender roles and expectations or were they allowed to be themselves?

Similarly to the rest of Thedas, Nevarra has an egalitarian approach to gender. However, there is increased preassure to follow certain mannerisms if you are within noble circles. Lukius, as an orphan with no backing, had no expressed favoritism for each one. What would be described as masculine or feminine was often negated by the large amount of reading they pursued. As such, they grew into themselves with little to no influence from societal norms. As they saw it, gender was more of a title, and they viewed themselves through the eyes of a ‘person’ instead.

4. What was their take on sexuality as a young person? Did they experiment with romance or find it entirely uninteresting?

Even after returning to the Necropolis in their later years, they avoided most romantic relationships. It wasn’t as intriguing to them as compared to their peers, and mostly stuck to their own personal interests or the interests of the Mourn Watch.

5. What was their take on spirituality as a young person? Did they grow up around one particular religion and if so how did that affect their beliefs?

While Nevarra is under the Andrastian faith, Lukius had little interest in learning about it. Faith, as they had experienced, had no favor in protecting them. Thus they relied on themselves and the physical answers they could find. However, they have done a large amount of research in Thedas’ religions as so give an equal opportunity to those who request funeral writes.

6. What childhood fear(s) did Rook carry with them into adulthood?

Embarrassingly, the dark. Early childhood trauma would fuel this fear for the rest of their life.

7. How did Rook become involved with their chosen faction? Who did they meet first, and how, and where, and why did they join up?

It was always highly probable that Lukius would return to the Necropolis in one form of another. Their fate was sealed when they were taken to a proper orphanage within Nevarra’s walls. After the opening of the Veil within Southern Thedas, there was a large spark of necromatic cult activity within Nevarra. Lukius, unfortunately, was a victim of such. Old conceptual concepts described that children’s spirits were less tethered to their body, explaining why their was high child fatalities (illness, etc). As they grew up, their spirits would become more “fixed”.

A closed Nevarran cult, in conjunction with a rouge Mortallitasi, adopted 6 children in order to perform theoretical magic on. While yes, it was possible to recall a spirit from the dead and into a corpse temporarily, many questioned if a spirit could be brought back to a host and kept alive. Ultimately, the Mourn Watch would catch wind of this and extract their own members to deal with the problem. Sadly, they would be too late. 5 corpses of recently adopted orphans had been identified, and the inner circle of cult members would be caught for their crimes. The sole victim who survived would be Lukius. At this point their magic had awakened at 7, however the ritual left their spirit broken, stitched together by the whims and cuts of the fade. The only thing keeping the cult from further torture was the wards they had surrounded themselves in upon their awakening. It would take Vorgoth, a familiar face, to calm them down enough for them to be taken back to the Necropolis.

From then on their mage training began. Unlike the rest of Thedas, Nevarra does not have an average Circle of Magi. Those who show gifts regarding necromancy are taken to the Grand Necropolis to begin training and education. Lukius was brought not only due to their history with the Mourn Watch, but also their keen affection towards spirits, wisps, and the fade. This later developed into a weak form of ‘dreamer’ aspects. Although, they had no control of the environment themselves.

As their magic developed, it would become increasingly strong in the ways of offensive magic and wards. Landing them in a recon squad of the Mourn Watch (much to their displeasure).

8. Was Rook interested in finding a life partner of some kind when they joined their faction? Why? Who were their best friends and how did they meet? Who were their rivals, who did they trust?

Like most Mortalitasi, Rook was not looking for a life partner. Some Mortalitasi end up getting engaged for political reasons, but they made sure their actions and personality kept them off the market. They werent too intrested in getting married to a stranger. Their best friend, was Huedor Greywater, a subordinate within their recon squad, who they ended up loosing during the undead civil war. As Huedor was no Mortalitasi, he had little grave dowry to his name. Lukius paid for him themselves, and got him a small crypt in the upper areas of the Necroplis for his family to mourn him.

9. Did Rook have any scars or tattoos? What’s the story behind them?

Lukius has a Y-shaped incision along their chest from the torture they endured from the cultist. However, they openly show it. Lukius has stated before that they would not let the actions of others chain them to a life of fear. Lukius also has a number of small scars from multiple missions. The ones on their face being the most notable. One across their nose bridge to their right cheek, obtained from their first recon mission. One on the left corner of their mouth, which they had received from falling down the Grand Necropolis many staircases after it had rearranged itself. Finally, one on the left cheek and jaw from their most recent (and final) recon mission.

10. Did Rook ever strongly identify with a particular nationality, city, race, creed, or religion? Is this something they explored on their own or a tradition that was passed down to them? Did this identity evolve as they grew into adulthood?

Lukius had only identified with being Nevarran, having being involved with the Mourn Watch at such a young age. They became particularly intrested in the Elvish race, as few elves exist in Nevarran, let alone the Mourn Watch. So, they turned to finding their own answers regarding Elvish culture. This later bloomed into interest into other religion and cultures, but none would take them as far as Elvish.

11. Lightning Round - PREGAME VERSION

Favorite Scent: Isopropyl Alcohol and Pine

Favorite Food: Almond Biscuits

Favorite Animal: Ermines

Favorite Book: The Great Divide: An Anthropolgy on the Fade and its Relationship to Society as a Whole

Favorite Drink: Black Cofee (Don’t tell anyone but they secretly put sweet syrup in it.)

Favorite Item of Clothing: The leather harness they use to hold their health vials and coin purse

Favorite Keepsake: A Veridium Crystal Jingle Bell. This was one often hung around their neck upon growing up in the Necropolis, as they seemingly had silent footsteps. It was decided it would be best to hear Lukius coming first.

Favorite Place: Unmarked Tomb 274AF, who they have lovingly nicknamed Steve

Favorite Person: “Bones”, a skeleton who found initially found them within the Grand Necropolis

Little Treat: Lemon Tart

[howtotrainabraincell]

A Day at the Critter Shop

for @a-little-buggy the first one to ever make a request

The first thing that Desmond had thought when Connor had been transported to the future was...better left unsaid lest Connor's ears be violated again. The man of course was no stranger to strong language, but to hear such things upon his arrival on top of being disoriented and confused about where he was? Give the guy a break.

When they had realized that Connor had some way, somehow been brought to the future by Desmond's visits to the past, Desmond instantly felt guilty. He couldn't imagine how it felt to be ripped out of your own century and thrown into almost three hundred years in the future. He had of course immediately volunteered to take full responsibility for his ancestor and help him as much as possible. Though the nerd known as Shaun had wanted to pick Connor's brain to build a better psychological profile of him.

Desmond had thrown a package of pop tarts at him and told Connor to RUN.

Within a week the two had found themselves building quite an amicable relationship. They had more in common than they would have thought - having been born over two hundred years apart. The Bleeding Effect helped of course. Being someone and taking on their mannerisms certainly made it easier to understand the actual person.

The two men had a lazy slow afternoon about a week after Connor's arrival, with the colonial era assassin taking the news with some surprise but mostly ease. He had questions of course but he wasn't panicking the way Desmond had been. The. Whole. Entire. Time.

The guilt of the younger man was immense. He felt like it was his fault Connor had been misplaced in literal time. In experiencing the side effects and cons of the Bleeding effect, Desmond had however been able to offer the man some sort of comfort by speaking in his mother tongue to him. The two men were conversing in Kanien'keha:ka when Desmond got an idea. It was a bit wild because it involved taking a man from the 18th century out into the 21st century world, anything could happen and in Desmond's case...it usually did.

"Do you like animals Ratonhnhaké:ton?"

The man's eyebrows peaked up in interest before he answered a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. "I do. I've always felt fondly for nature and the creatures that inhabit it. Comfortable. I was raised to respect the animals in nature, even when it comes time to hunt."

Desmond nodded in understanding. "What about pets? Have you ever had one?"

"No. We usually ate the animals or came across those in the woods that were too wild to be tamed." He paused, "Can you do such a thing? Do people have...pet wolves in this century?"

"They do actually. But it is extremely rare, and they usually just nurse them back to health and then release them back into the wild." He thought about his offer and decided it was now or never. "Would you like to go to a place where they have animals available for adoption?"

His brows furrowed. "It sounds interesting."

"If you trust me, I think you'll really like it. You'll get to see as many animals as you want and you can be friendly with them."

"They won't get scared and run away?"

"No. They're used to humans normally. Some can be skittish, but you just need to be gentle with them. Come on." He grinned grabbing his keys. "I'm taking you to a pet shop."

After making sure that they wouldn't be recognized in public by any freako Templars, they headed out and twenty minutes later reached their destination. The place was huge and there was a glass display at the front of the store, filled to the brim with little puppies in one and kittens in the other. Desmond grinned excitedly, "Hey! They're having an adoption event for a few new arrivals today."

"How does one do this? Do you just go in and claim the one you want?"

Heading in with Connor close behind weary and ever alert of their surroundings, Desmond answered. "Pretty much. Only you have to sign adoption papers and you usually have to pay a fee, and sometimes buy a couple of things from the store to take care of them when you get home."

Connor nodded in understanding as he brought his hands behind his back. "What would I get?"

"Depending on the animal you could toys, collars, beds. You have to have food for them, and you can get dishes to put the food in. Every animal is different so there's different things to get for different ones. My advice? Go with either a cat or a dog."

Connor eyed a pink sparkly rhinestone collar with a look of WTF and Desmond snorted. "That is...abhorrent to the eyes. Why...would one torture an innocent animal with such a thing? It would die of embarrassment. To say nothing of not being able to blend in with their surroundings."

Desmond laughed at Connor's honesty. "Well typically a pet is kept inside your home. Most people don't want their animals getting torn up by other animals that aren't domesticated or people who are missing more than half of their marbles. They think of them as a family member."

Connor had frozen staring down into the glass encased pit and it was then that Desmond instantly knew. Connor was a dog lover confirmed. An adorable little german shepherd had its tiny paws up on the glass yipping its heart out at the tall man, who just stared curiously in response.

"What...does he want? I have no meat for him, and I didn't touch his territory." He narrowed his eyes at the little furball, "If you bite me, fair warning dog I will bite back."

Desmond snickered and came closer smiling down at the little thing. "Hey little guy. Do you like my friend?"

The puppy whined in response and Desmond had to stop himself from letting out an audible 'awww'. "The puppy wants your attention Connor. You should pick him up and hold him."

"I can hold a... what I think is a wolf pup? Its fur is unlike any that I've ever seen..."

"It's a german shepherd. A breed of dog. Not a wolf. Perfectly safe to hold. They wouldn't sell wolves in a pet store, that would count as an 'exotic animal' and you would need a license, and you have to pay fees... it's a headache basically."

Connor continued to stare at the puppy hesitating before leaning over to gently reach in and scoop the puppy up in one of his large hands. He gently brought the animal to his chest and cupped its head with his other hand hoping not to drop it. "Is this good?"

Desmond nodded smiling like a dork at the sight of such a tiny puppy in the large hands of a man who was built like a roman brick wall. "It's great man. You're doing great."

The puppy began to lick Connor's palm and the man smiled. The stretch slightly hurting his face because the muscles were unused to being used, but Connor was actually happy. Or he seemed to be. Desmond couldn't read his mind.

"If you think this little guy is cute wait until you see the other animals in the store."

The puppy by now had propped itself up to lick Connor's cheek making him smile even more and speak softly to the puppy. "You look like a wolf, but you are much nicer you know that? So soft too."

Giving the little creature a pat on the head Connor let him down back into the pit to play with his littermates. Various other puppies were there ranging from little yorkies to sassy sausage dogs and a few golden retrievers.

"Well at least we know that he'll be easy to find again. Come one we still have the cats to look at too."

When they got to the kitten pen Desmond reached in to gently offer his hand to a tiny black kitten with green eyes, which curled up in his hand, tucking their little tail in as they waited patiently for their ride upward. Connor had secured an orange tabby kitten...which was currently biting the h-e-double hockey sticks out of his hands.

Petting the cat, he winced as he watched Connor get mercilessly attacked, by the feisty little thing. "Ow! Does that not hurt man?"

Connor shrugged. "No." He studied the cat as it continued to attack his hand with the same vigor he once went after Charles Lee with when he was younger. "I'm still trying to figure out if it's trying to be intimidating..."

"I think they're playing. Cats do that. Dogs play bite and cats do too. Cats however... tend to hurt more."

Suddenly the cat overestimated its balance in Connor's hand and toppled over the side, hanging on for dear life. The kitten mewled as its tiny little body dangled from Connor's large hand, and Connor just watched with slight amusement.

"See what you this has gotten you? You bit me and now you are stuck. You reap what you sow you naughty...not mountain lion but sharp clawed creature."

Desmond wheezed laughing at Connor's sass toward the kitten for play biting him. "Here try this little one. Boy cats tend to be more aggressive, and I got a girl."

The second the two men traded cats, the orange kitten took to chewing on Desmond's hoodie strings with a fiery wrath, and the black kitten looked up at Connor. The two studied one another for a moment, before the kitten reached its paw out and batted the air like it wanted something.

Connor brought the kitten closer weary after the first encounter but was pleasantly surprised to find that the kitten wanted his braid. He felt the beads in his hair tap gently against his jaw as the kitten played with them with jovial fascination.

And he smiled. Genuinely. For the first time since - well ever entering the 21st century Desmond supposed. Connor wasn't really known for smiling even back in his own time, and Desmond would especially know having been in the Animus experiencing everything that his ancestor had. He couldn't blame him though. Connor hadn't really had anything to smile about for a good portion of his life.

He chose to change the subject. He wanted to help Connor feel comfortable, not make him upset.

"Wanna go see the fish? They're usually pretty cool to look at."

Connor opened his mouth confusion written on his face but shut it and nodded. They headed over to the fish section where there were endless aquariums filled with as many fish as you could imagine. There were small, medium and large fish

The goldfish stared at Connor through the glass before blowing a single bubble at Connor.

Desmond smiled and puffed his cheeks out back at the fish in return. "Aww. He just blew a bubble at us. I think little fishy likes us."

The tall man next to him nodded and crossed his arms, the cat on his shoulder beginning to chew on the end of his hair peeking out from the end of the colored beads. "And I like fish."

He felt hope that maybe they would be taking an unexpected pet home today. A cat or dog he had expected, but a fish was unexpected. "Oh really?"

"Yes." There was a brief pause. "With hoecakes. Or deohako. Or even sofkee. Especially grilled over the fire. These ones are scrawny though... they would hardly make a mouthful for a child."

Desmond stared at him in fascination before laughing and moved him along to another part of the store. Reaching a small section of bunnies munching on cabbage leaves and sleeping in their little huts all huddled together, Connor joined him and scoffed.

"I thought you said that this was a 'pet shop'."

Desmond frowned turning away from the cotton ball with eyes. "It is."

Connor gestured to the bunnies munching peacefully on their snacks. "Then why did they put food in a place where you adopt animals to be your pet?"

The tattooed man's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Huh?"

"We eat those as well. In my time. All the time. They're delicious. I made a pair of fur lined boots for my mother when I was boy with a creature that looked exactly like this one. It was one of my first kills actually."

Desmond smiled nervously and moved along. "Ooookay next animal coming up."

Walking around the store they came across a case with multicolored small snakes. Until one caught Desmond's eye: the Western Hognose snake. "Oh cool!" Reading the handling information he carefully opened the case, so he didn't startle the snake. He slowly stuck his hand in the snakes' path, and it slithered right into his hand, making Desmond make a face at the feeling of its slippery underbelly. He gently lifted the creature out of the case, supporting it with both hands and turned to Connor.

Where he was met with a face of abject horror.

Desmond snickered. "What? He's cute right? Look at those little beady eyes."

"How... are you not being bit or strangled right now?

"You wanna hold him? I'll take Signora whiskers on your shoulder for a second if you do."

The man backed up clutching his small furry companion closer as if for comfort, before he pointed at Desmond completely serious. "If you put that slimy slithering henchman of satan near me I will end you. Descendant of mine of not."

Desmond grinned and leisurely set the small snake down back into its enclosure, where it slithered slowly back underneath its little palm tree. "Okay not a fan of snakes. Got it." He looked around before his eyes lit up at the small creature on the other side of the store. "Let's check these guys out."

Connor reluctantly followed as he grumbled to the kitten. "Only good snake is a dead snake little one. Dead and turned into jerky. Because while dangerous, they are delicious."

They headed over to the next display where various different types of gerbils were moseying about with their own agendas, completely oblivious to the humans ogling them. Connor peered into the glass with curiosity before quaffing in surprise. "What the... what is this - is this a mouse? Why are they selling diseases carriers? These things kill people." He frowned in disdain. "They get into your grain supply too and contaminate it."

"Not these little guys Connor. They're perfectly okay to have as pets." He opened the latch and gently offered his hand to one of the gerbils. It came closer sniffing his hand before hopping on and scampering up his arm, making him laugh. "See? Completely harmless. Just be gentle with them because they're so tiny."

Suddenly the gerbil jumped from Desmond's shoulder to Connor's jacket, clinging to the fabric for dear life, before it attempted to continue its journey. Connor's voice pitched in alarm as the gerbil launched itself onto his forearm, from his jacket, and the man was quick to grab it and stop it in its tracks. "Why can it jump like that?!"

Mouth hanging open in surprise he answered, "That's what...they do...?" Desmond genuinely knew nothing about gerbils. He had always thought they were just a form of domesticated mice. Noticing a plaque in front of the cage he began to read from it absentmindedly as the gerbil ran amuck in Connor's palm, climbing his fingers as he let the animal run between his hands.

"The Mongolian gerbil is one of one hundred ten species of gerbils and have proven to be a popular pet. The tend to thrive in arid and hot types of climates such as deserts and sometimes rain forests. They are commonly found in India, Asia, and Africa and have long hind legs, that allow them to execute a unique type of leaping to get around. They make good pet and get along with other animals. It is not recommended to have a gerbil and a cat in the same house - for obvious reasons. Annnndd they have an average lifespan of two to three years out in the wild, but can live anywhere from four to five years, with proper care if domesticated."

Connor frowned at the gerbil in his hand currently busy with the task of licking its hands and cleaning its little head. "That is sad. They live for so little time. Many people in my tribe live for a very long time, upwards of a hundred years."

"Yeah. Unfortunately, animals just don't live as long as humans do. That's one of the sucky parts about having a pet. You stick around longer than they do." He grinned, "But you have a bunch of centenarians in your tribe? That's cool."

Connor's mouth twisted in thought. "Centenarians are...?"

"People who are one hundred years old and older. You become an ultra-centenarian if you're well over a hundred years old. Like one hundred twelve or something like that."

He nodded in understanding catching the kitten without any thought as she slipped from his shoulder, before bringing her down to his chest. Connor looked sheepishly back to the puppy he had played with earlier as he simultaneously cradled the kitten closer to himself.

Desmond smiled in understanding. He asked anyway though he already knew the answer, his fellow Assassin would give. "You want the dog and the kitten, don't you?"

The elder assassin didn't take his eyes off the dog, two pairs of brown eyes looking deeply into the others. They were looking at each other like they were soul bonded, and Desmond knew that dog would be the latest addition to the family. "We bonded. And dogs are known for their loyalty..."

Desmond paused before a devious grin spread across his face. "We can train it to bite Shaun when he acts like a jerk and goes on his 'I'm smarter than you' rampage."

Connor made a face of consideration. He did think that this Shaun could be quite annoying. Maybe a bite here and there could convince him to be a bit less snappy, and a bit more happy. "While devious... I like your way of thinking." He looked down at the kitten and smiled once more, as she gave a tiny little meow up at him. "She is very sweet too." He scratched her little head behind the ears making her purr loudly. Desmond was surprised to hear such a loud sound come from such a tiny little cat, and it amused him to think that if she meowed it would probably wake Shaun out of a dead sleep and annoy him.

He nodded in understanding. Shaun certainly wouldn't be happy, but Rebecca would be ecstatic about the little guys. Besides with the stressful work they were doing all the time, what could it hurt to have some cute animals running around? They all deserved a break. And Desmond would never admit this out loud... but he wanted a snuggle buddy. "Okay we'll get them and get what they need and then go home. Does that sound good?"

Connor grinned and gave a single nod. "Sounds good."

Twenty minutes, some paperwork, and money later they walked out the new co-parents of two adorable bundles of fur.

"Let's go home so we can get these little guys settled huh?"

Connor nodded content to not say a word as he watched the small dog gnaw on his finger in delight without a care in the world. He looked down at the kitten sleeping peacefully in the blanket against his chest and he smiled.

Both animals completely happy and ready to go to their forever home.

NOTE! 'deohako' meaning 'life supporters' refers to the "three sisters" crops of corn, beans and squash. These were staple foods for the Mohawk people. Alongside 'sofkee' (also known as 'sofgee') was a corn porridge that the Mohawk people often ate as well.

ALSO - Sorry that this is kind of long I got carried away, but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless!

[bloodycotton]

Day eleven, does anyone know that Alfred's GIF where we look at the camera and smiles? Because i cannot for the sake of myself find it anywhereeeee. (Fuck, i swear i was about to upload at a good time, but you know, shit happens)

Prompts by: @raven-cincaide-words

(English is NOT my first language)

Day 11.- Graveyard Dare (I forgot to add the "dare" part)

Jim Bussey (The waterman, 2020) x Gn!reader

Once, when he was younger, Jim remembered that he used to work in a cemetery as a night guard.

It was just one more story he had accumulated while working during his active years. 

His heavy body plopped down in the comfortable armchair, with a batch of biscuits in the oven, and now his only job was to wait, while he looked through his books and put on a vinyl with some classic song he didn't really know by heart, which sent him on a trip down memory lane. 

It was about three and maybe a quarter decades ago, when he still had no grey in his hair and no beard, just a neatly trimmed moustache. 

He had a belt on which hung an expensive torch, which he had already been warned that if he broke it, the replacement would have to come out of his own pay. It was night, three or four in the morning, only a couple of hours more to hand over the keys to his replacement and punch his exit card, when the heat of the night made him leave his post to take a breath of the warm air of the cemetery, he wasn't afraid of them, but of course he believed in spirits and creatures. 

Jim sat on the cold cemetery bench, the night enveloped him, but it was not completely dark, the moon was in the waning quarter phase, illuminating the gravestones, statues and flowers of the cemetery. 

He looked up at the statue of an angel, its face serene in the hard stone, but he could swear that its skin would be so soft to his touch, the angel that always accompanied him when being locked in the small cabin became unbearable. 

That angel, with its outstretched wings and compassionate gaze, seemed to be the only being who truly understood him. Jim felt drawn to it, as if in the solitude of the night it could share his burden.

"You know," Jim murmured, feeling vulnerable talking to the statue. "Sometimes I think you're the only one who really listens to me. In the dark, where everyone else is absent, you're here, always present, always listening to me."

He looked down, his hands trembling slightly. "It's easier to talk to you. You don't judge me. You always listen to me, no matter what."

He chuckled, remembering the taunts of his peers. "Sometimes, they call me crazy. They say I should stop wasting my time with fairy tales and spectres. But I know there is something beyond what we see. This place, with its history and its secrets, is full of life... even if it's a life that not everyone can see."

He moved a little closer, his eyes full of longing. "If only you could open those stone eyes and look at me. I tell you my secrets, my beliefs, and yet here you stand, unmoving."

His voice trembled as he spoke, as if each word carried a special weight. "Imagine if you could walk beside me, listen to my stories and share my fears. I promise I would never make you feel alone."

Jim leaned into the statue, feeling the cool night breeze caress his face. The moon, in its waning quarter phase, illuminated the cemetery with a soft, silvery light, creating dancing shadows among the gravestones and wilting flowers. Trees rustled in the distance, and the distant hoot of an owl broke the silence, reminding him that he was not entirely alone in the darkness.

Jim moved closer to the statue, his heart pounding in his chest. The moon illuminated his face, revealing the mixture of longing and sadness in his eyes. With each step, the world around her seemed to fade away, leaving only the silence of the cemetery and the presence of the angel.

His lips barely touched the surface of the stone, and in that instant, a flood of emotions swept over him. "I promise you, angel, that if you could come back to life, I would give you my soul. I don't need riches or fame, only your company."

The sound of the oven brought him out of his memories, the biscuits were ready.

[neallo]

supernatural au meronia where mello starts living in a house haunted by a victorian child ghost

hi ahgjdksghsd i love this prompt. i did not parse this initially as "near is the victorian child ghost," which i think is maybe what you meant, so i did not write that. however! i hope you will still enjoy this. ~850 words, not really edited, may eventually continue :3c

When he hears the knock on the door, Mello is expecting it. He has an appointment, and his guest is two minutes early, which he appreciates. His time isn’t worth much, anymore, but he still prefers not to waste it.

He crosses the large, creaking house, with its dust and cobwebs and half-full cardboard boxes, and swings the front door open, a greeting on his lips. The words die in his throat before he can get them out, though, and his body freezes there in the frame. He gapes.

“Hello,” the boy on his porch says. “Is this the residence of Mihael Keehl?”

Mello’s brain whirs, trying to make sense of several concurrent realizations.

One: the boy on his porch is not the person he made an appointment with. 

Two: this boy is, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature Mello has ever seen in his entire life. He has short, wavy, snow-white hair, the face of an angel, and the big-shiny eyes of a baby cow. His mouth is pink, and perfect.

Three: this boy is also, without a doubt, a boy he went to school with. A boy he spent twelve years in cut-throat competition with, and who he came second to, over and over. A boy he was routinely, unnecessarily cruel to, in ways no one would ever forgive or forget. Near.

“What?” Mello hears himself say. He sounds really, really stupid.

“I am visiting on behalf of the Lawliet Center for Spirit Management Services,” Near says crisply. “My appointment is with one Mihael Keehl.”

It occurs to him, then, that Near never knew his real name. He doesn’t know Near’s, either. Wammy’s had a number of unconventional methods, and one was the early assignment of and strict adherence to aliases, even outside of school walls.

You are no longer yourself, they told the children. You’re one of many, yet still unique. You are exceptional, now.

It was a weird-ass school. Mello’s never gonna finish unpacking all the shit they went through there.

“That’s me,” he says faintly, belatedly. “Are you the exorcist?”

“My name is Nate River,” the man says crisply, pulling a business card out of the pocket of his button-down shirt and presenting it to Mello, “though you may also call me Near. I am a professional esper. My abilities include exorcism, which is the service I understand you are seeking today, but that is hardly the extent of them.”

Numbly, Mello takes the card and pockets it, staring intently. Near looks blandly back at him. There is not a trace of recognition in those eyes.

Has Mello really changed that much? Sure, he’s got the scar, now, which does cover about thirty-five percent of his face, but he’s not that much taller or broader than when they graduated, and the parts of his face that weren’t burnt to a crisp are more or less the same as they’ve always been. It seems hard to believe that Near would really not recognize him.

“Sorry,” Mello says after way-too-long, again. “I talked to someone else, at the office. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Your initial consultation was with my partner, but he is with another client— a severe spirit infestation. I’m sure you understand.” Near smiles; it looks stiff, and strange, like an expression practiced in the mirror, but not perfected. When they were younger, he only smiled in a weird, spooky way, but it was a sincere expression. This one is hollow. “I have familiarized myself with your case, and I am confident in my readiness to handle it, if you will allow me to.”

If he recognizes Mello, he really doesn’t wanna let on— not that Mello can blame him for it.

“Right, of— of course. Come in,” he tells Near, stumbling as he steps aside.

“The notes from your intake interview indicated that you predominantly encounter the spirit in your bedroom,” says Near, his voice echoing off the wooden walls. “I assume that’s upstairs, but I would like to walk through the ground level of the house, first. In homes as old as this one, there are frequently multiple presences, but if one is potent enough, it may prevent the others from manifesting until it is exorcised. I would be dissatisfied if I failed to resolve your problem in a single visit.”

Mello winces at something (real or imagined) in Near’s tone. Subtext: I’m gonna be pissed if I have to see you again.

“Right.” Mello trails after him. “Yeah, uh— I mean, look wherever. I’m not— I’m not unpacked, but—”

“Interesting,” Near interrupts, though the word is spoken softly. “You said the presence is a child, correct?”

“Yeah.” Mello studies Near’s profile as the younger boy crouches to trace the wall. “It’s, uh. This old-timey looking kid. Victorian, I think.”

“I see.” He hums, and presses a hand to a crack in the plaster. “Ah. Your insulation is inadequate. There’s a draft here.”

“Oh,” Mello says. “How do I fix that?”

Near stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. “I have no idea. Let’s move on.” 

[ishtates]

Ok ok so dopples are actually a strain of bacteria created by the American government to win WW2, and it worked really well because the bacteria was not only capable of identifying and copying features but was also highly contagious so it could overtake both corpses and living people. Because they eat their host bodies dopples need a lot of food so they can actually survive for more than a few weeks, hence why they eat humans because. Lots of food in a smaller package. Dopples can really eat anything organic! Younger dopples tend to be the ones making silly mistakes like forgetting a nose, while older dopples will have holes in the or worms or other decomposers living in them.

Also, surprisingly dopples are incredibly social creatures. They form colonies (get it. Get it because they are bacteria) and usually have close relationships with their colony mates (like 42 and Peach Peach, who hunt together often!) Younger dopples are usually responsible for feeding he older dopples, while the older dopples will teach the younger ones how to change and the best ways to hunt. Colonies are usually made up of 5-20 dopples, and depending on the size they will have one or two colony leaders who protect their building (usually an abandoned apartment). The bigger one to date was Stitchface and Hoon Man's colony, which comprised entirely of dopples who had defects that meant they would never be able to perfectly replicate a human (Hoon Lady, 42, Peach Peach, Maws (the mouth Selenne one), Long Neck Angus, ect.). Those dopples also tend to go out in groups so a) they can help their fellow dopples escape before the disinfectant process and b) they can wait for the D.D.D. to come and ambush the agents. This is actually mostly how that colony gets their food! They also have a "doorman" who calls the D.D.D. regularly so the apartment won't be investigated. :)

Dopples have also been seen to be very playful. They like to copy one another, and play games like tag and hide n seek! It keeps their skills sharp and also. They do just like to play. Also as mentioned above they do form attachments and captured dopples have shown immense distress when separated from their friends or lovers. Some even seem to have adopted children (Stitchface and Hoon Man adopted the Zipper Anastacha, showing a bit of a preference towards her. There was also a whole thing that happened to that colony but. We can get into that later). They also are shown to like humans, some captured dopples will wait for the agents who feed them and do things like give them parts of their meals or actually talk to them n stuff like that (Steven Rudboys is also dating a dopple but shhhhhhhh). Honestly the quickest way to get a dopple to trust you is to use a soft voice and give them food!

Most colonies have different dialects, but most speak a base language known to researchers as Dopplish. It's made up of hollow and guttural noises, something all dopples can speak. Obviously they can speak English but they do that incredibly sparingly, unless they interact with humans a lot of course. All colonies have a very good based culture (hehe) as well! Giving someone food is a sign of respect, care and even worry, while stealing someone's food is seen as a grave insult and can start a fight. Oldest are always fed first, then the colony leaders will feed the others as the need arises.

There are some dopples who don't live in colonies, these tend to be middle aged dopples with very good disguises or newly formed dopples who didn't form in a colony. Middle aged dopples will return to their home colony as they age, but younger dopples have to find a new colony quick as they do struggle with disguises. Certain colonies can be harsh to new dopples joining, particularly bigger groups, as the need of the group comes first.

All this said I also want to state the D.D.D. isn't evil. They care more about the citizens than the government and are only getting rid of the dopples for public safety, they kill as few dopples as possible so they can be studied (unfortunately the disinfectant they use to subdue/eliminate a dopple causes death in humans, hence why they tell their doorman to be very careful) and a lot of the agents actually enjoy interacting with the dopples!

Sorry if the ramble is sort of disjointed I fucking love these things. We have like three of them here and I am one so like ✌️

( late sorry, Twitter stuff )

OOOOH love that !! It's kinda similar to how I see it.

Doppels in my hc were actually lab experiments and can come in all sorts of different shapes and sizes yada yada they were created and trained to act human but anyways. I love that we share an idea about colonies of doppels : D !!!

I also definitely see like, since doppels are capable of equal to or higher human intelligence, that some may choose their own path or can be talked / taught into being less harmful. Some doppels actually want to live as or with humans, some just want to be alone, etc..

Hoons, Stitchface, Peaches, 42 are good examples of " different " doppels. Not all attack out of hatred or hunger, some of them believe it to be an obligation because of how their fellow doppels treat humans, but it's not hard to make them your friend

I like when people actually talk about the doppels rather than just assuming they're pure evil. There's clearly a lot to them; their plan, their intelligence, the variety of doppels.. they're clearly not all bloodthirsty evil creatures or mindless monsters, there's a lot that can be done with them

I had a little idea that doppel colonies will use abandoned buildings as homes :]