#They’re big enough it doesn’t even hurt them it’s just like an annoying rash or itch

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 285

Another Tiamat Prompt, what d’ya know lol. 

Only? That much power, of nine near-godly beings in one body? That’s a lot. And, they can’t exactly… unmeld anymore. But they were prepared for that, they were ready to have to sacrifice it all. So if they have to leave their world as their power gets too strong, then so be it. 

So they wander, from world to world, unable to stay long, never finding a place that feels like home. They wander, stars spilling from wings, asteroids melding with scales and stars bursting into feathers as they do so. 

They wander, and grow both stronger, and bigger than ever before. But they grow tired, weary. Exhausted even. This endless travel, they tire of it, just wanting a moment of rest. They’ve been moving endlessly for so long, getting fitful rest as one of them dozes at a time, and they just want a proper moment of sleep. 

So they land and… when did worlds become so small? When did they become vast enough to wrap around them? When did they grow so large to dwarf the world they had once come from so long ago once in another timeline? 

How long, they wonder, have the nine of them wandered? How far? How many timelines? Dimensions? Planes of reality? 

But they’re tired. So for now? They rest. They sleep away their worries and grief, life and death spilling from their breath, rock and earth building around them as they dream. Water giving way to life, plants to animals, animals to destruction over and over. 

And they rest. They sleep. Scales harder than any ore, feathers more beautiful than the rarest bird, fur softer than the most expensive silks, yet visible to none. For they sleep, resting below the waves, stretching from sea to sea. 

Until…

Until they begin to wake. They do not mean harm, they are not even aware of the life that has grown from their presence, of the panic the great disasters and storms are causing. One snuffs in their sleep, a volcano bursting from the heat. Another head shifts slightly, sighing at the new comfortable position as sinkholes break across the surface like an earthquake. 

How can they be aware, when they’re still dreaming? 

[inbetweenhours]

Finished my primary pitch for @pinchhitsfromthevoid​ ‘s first batch of pitchs! If your looking to send prompts run over there the form is still around :]

This pitch was for an anon, so no one else to tag. But basically I combined their want for osmp, royalty, and angst! Though the angst maybe s a bit more hurt/comfort I guarantee this would be angsty in full in fic format aha :] I also played a little with the popular and newly approved hc of  o!Ranboo being a girl just for the fun of it. It impacts nothing in the story and I could just as easily redraw the whole thing with “prince” Ranboo, and she just looks like an oc at this point but she’s fun :] So I hope y’all like her. IDK if I’ll draw her again but it was fun for this au i like her design :]

The panels alone tell a kind of story, so you can read them as you like. However I will be elaborating on what is going on in, and between each panel below the cut ;) enjoy!

Any interaction is appreciated! :] Enjoy!

tw: assassination's attempts, mentioned death

The End Empire and The Kingdom of Origin are in a bit of a feud. Not anything big, but The End has come out of its isolation rather suddenly and has been making demands of overworld countries like Origin. They’re powerful enough King Phil doesn’t want to do anything rash to make them seem hostile, but honestly The Ends behavior is fairly aggressive and it’s coming off as threatening. 

 Thus Phil send his trusted advisor Wilbur to visit The End to try and do negotiations in person. He has also sent his son Tommy as a sign of good faith to have at least one member of the royal family present since he has other matters to attend to. Tommy’s a bit to young to be properly handling the actual politics though so he’s mostly just there for images sake Wilbur’s doing the actual work.

When they arrive and are waiting to be introduced to the End monarchy they come under the sudden realization of why things might have been so hard to handle, and why The End has had a seemingly sudden shift of motivation in the past months.  The End Monarchy is not the two queens that outside nations had been under the impression of ruling. Instead a single tween, Tommy’s age. Princess Ranboo  is maybe 13, looking entirely too small on the throne despite how much space she’s trying to take up.

Wilbur realized quickly that negotiations are gonna be a mess because Ranboo is a literal child and certainly acts like it. She’s spoilt and demanding and is blatantly refusing input from her advisor. Outright refusing any ideas thrown out by her advisor at all out of some kind of  superiority complex or spite, Wilbur isn’t sure. Seemingly just trying to be difficult.  Wilbur has no idea how he is going to resolve this peacefully when arguing with a literal child.

Wilbur is at his wits ends after even just the first meeting. Tommy decides he doesn’t wanna hang around if it’s gonna be this unbearable and also Wilbur is losing his mind. While Tommy enjoys annoying Wilbur that is his job and no one else’s. So he slips away after the meeting to try and find Ranboo. Try and do some diplomacy of his own and se if he can’t connect, tween to tween, and figure something out. See why she’s being a twat.

Tommy doesn’t find Ranboo, but instead her advisor. The advisor is creepy to Tommy, but everyone in the End palace seems kind of off and Wilbur told him not to be rude so he doesn’t say anything.  The advisor basically helps direct Tommy to where Ranboo’s quarters are, even giving him a piece of End candy he can give to Ranboo as a kind of peace offering. When Ranboo opens her door and sees her advisor she scowls, before seeing Tommy and curiously pulling him into her room, slamming the door on the advisor.

Ranboo asks what Tommy’s doing, Tommy tries to offer the candy to which Ranboo makes a face and refuses. Tommy is just like “okay then” and goes to eat it himself because if Ranboo isn’t going to eat it then Tommy at least wants to try some of the foreign candy. Unfortunately for him, Ranboo snatches it as soon as he tries to unwrap it and throws it towards the trash.

Tommy is indignant asking what her problem is, but Ranboo tells him to shut up and be quiet. She asks if he is stupid, to try and eat something so brazenly without having it checked. Tommy asks why and Ranboo gets defensive, demanding that he just listen to her but Tommy squawks that he is also a prince, and Ranboo needs to treat him at least as an equal and stop talking down at him. She hasn’t really ever considered anyone an equal, has never met someone else her age of her status, so she backs down a little if only out of confusion. 

 Tommy pushed, and Ranboo explains that the staff of The End can’t be trusted. Ranboo isn’t completely sure who is and who isn’t in in it but that there is consistent assassination attempts and that Tommy should be more careful or else he’s an idiot. Tommy is both just baffled by the idea and defensive because he doesn’t have to worry about assassination attempts! They aren’t that common in Origin. This confuses Ranboo whose entire life has been upended because of the consistent poisoning attempts in the past half year.

Wilbur, who has lost track of Tommy since the meeting and is worried about him wandering around a foreign country that they know nothing about and ether getting himself into danger, or the both of them in trouble, begins covertly searching the palace halls for his ward. He accidentally overhears a conversation between Ranboo’s advisor, and another Enderian he doesn’t recognize.

He realizes they are discussing something he is not meant to overhear. The organization of an attempt on Ranboo’s life. They seem irritated and impatient, upset at the amount of time it has taken to take out the royal family. The poisons they have used to kill Ranboo’s mother, and bedridden the other (soon to pass, surely) are slow acting so as to come a crossed as terminal illness. Tragedies not traced back to staff interference. But Ranboo has grown too wise, knows not to trust, and is being tricky. With foreign nobility present they feel as though they are running out of time.

With the Origin nobility present though they have a unique opportunity. The advisor and other staff in on the assassination's have plans to continue impersonating the royal family,  even in their death and orchestrating the empire from that cover. They want the End to emerge from isolation, and Origin is getting on their nerves. They could kill two bids with one stone, so to speak, by killing Ranboo the old fashioned with with a knife in the night. Then causing a scandal by implicating the Origin nobility and issuing cause for conflict with the overworld.

This is all very bad news for Wilbur, both as a peaceful ambassador and also as a general bleeding heart. he fears for Tommy, and despite Ranboo’s attitude, he has the care to know she does not deserve this. He slips away unnoticed from his eavesdropping and wanders till he finds Ranboo’s room.

Once allowed inside he is relived to find both children present. He gets to Ranboo’s height, and gently tries to describe the danger she is in. Initially she brushes him off, insistent she knows how to handle herself and of course she knows she's being hunted by her staff, she’s been dodging them for months. Wilbur’s  insistence in a change of tactic is what scares her though.

 She can avoid poison. It’s easy to avoid food that hasn't been tested before her eyes. Easy to recognize smells and tastes, when and how her mothers fell ill. She also knows she is not made for labour of any kind, and she has no way of defending against a blade.

So the façade breaks. Ranboo is a spoilt brat. She was raised rich in an empire spanning the near entire end dimension. That is true. She can be stubborn and greedy and hot headed, she is a child. But she has no real ill will. She does not argue with Wilbur and disrupt the meetings and meals and any form of diplomacy out of a place of malice, but rather an insistence to disagree with her advisor, who she trusts least. She is scared, surrounded by people who hate her and who actively want her to de quietly. So she kicks, and screams and takes up space with demands and stubborn smirks. Enderian life spans are long, and Ranboo is young. There was no reason she need learn to rule when her mothers were well. She has no idea what she is doing on the throne, for people she has rarely seen.

So Wilbur presents her a problem she can’t turn up her nose and roll her eyes at, and she breaks. Because she is a scared child trying to fill up the shadow of something much more mature than she is.

Tommy is the one to offer aid. Says Ranboo stay in their guest room that night. They can have a sleepover! Ranboo has no idea what that means, but as Wilbur irons out the details, it seems the safest option.

They’ll still be in the palace of course, no where else to go yet. But so long as Ranboo can get to their room without being seen leaving her own room, then they can confuse the attacker and hopefully keep Ranboo safe.

The plan seems to work out well, even if nearly everyone ends up awake the whole night. Ranboo stays awake in fear, hiding in a blanket and just about ready to teleport at any little sound. Tommy is nearby, doing his best to distract her. Get to now her better, just generally lighten the mood.  Wilbur keeps watch when the kids eventually end up taking a couple naps through the night, his phantling nature making staying awake much easier. He also drafts some letters while he can. A few to Phil, though they are never sent. Then a couple letters later in the night for the End palace staff.

Its early the next morning  the crew have to make some decisions. With the End palace staff being done with waiting Ranboo no longer feels capable of evading death in their own home. Tommy thinks Ranboo should just come back with them to Origin, and Wilbur agrees after some consideration. He is sure Phil would have no issue taking in Ranboo, especially given the situation. The issue is it may provide more ammunition for the End palace staff, when they inevitably take over coordination of the empire in the last of the capable royal families absence, to initiate a bigger conflict. 

Tommy is insistent though, and Wilbur knows neither he nor Phil would live with him if he left Ranboo behind to fend for herself again. So they ask her to leave with them, pack a bag and they will leave towards the portal within a couple hours. 

Ranboo is hesitant though. She visits her mother, the one who has remained ill, the other already passed. She is barely responsive. But in the early hours Ranboo happens to catch a rare moment of coherency to her rapidly decaying self. She tries to describe what is happening, and asks what she should do. The only person left she would dare to take order from. Her mother, confesses she is fading quickly, and something happened last night. She likely will not last more than a day, or two. Its a miracle she’s lasted this long really. So she encourages Ranboo with a soft caress of her cheek, and a grim smile.

So Ranboo finds Tommy and Wilbur again, hides her glum expression, and evades her staff to pack a small case. She follows carefully as Wilbur and Tommy insist thy much leave at once, and when the coast is clear she rejoins them at the portals edge.

She doesn’t know what awaits her, has never seen majority of her empire, much less outside it. Outside of her realm. Tommy is excited to finally se the sun again, and Wilbur is sure to check in that everyone will b okay. Ranboo, emboldened by her linked arms to each of her new friends, plunges them all into the portal.

The world is bright, brighter than anything Ranboo has ever seen. It burn at h eyes for a moment, and she hears a hiss as Wilbur quickly opens his parasol. The brief shade finally gives Ranboo the time to consider the world around her. The colors, the shapes, the smell of the new world around her. 

Despite having lost her home, and her family, and her status- which she will surely be upset by later- she feels some hope. And she breathes steady knowing she maybe safe yet.

Of course not everything will be settled so easily. The empire may retaliate for her leave, Ranboo has yet to properly process her grief, her losses, and Origin will have to adjust with the change Ranboo’s brings. But there is hope.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

now on ao3

They've been talking online for close to six months now and Jaskier has, predictably, fallen head over heels for him. It's not his fault that Geralt is fascinating and beautiful. Not his fault that he's interested in all the hobbies Jaskier let fall dormant because he had no one to talk to about them. Not his fault that Geralt is soft and kind and hilarious without intending to be. The only problem is that Geralt will never love him the same way.

Because Jaskier is annoying. Because he doesn't know enough to carry on a full conversation, where Geralt can talk his ear off about the new species discovered at the bottom of the ocean. Because he is not funny and he is not beautiful.

But it's okay because Jaskier has had years and years to come to terms with the fact that no one will want to be with him long term. It's fine, it is. He's adjusted. So when the conversations with Geralt slowly taper off to nearly nothing, he's expecting it. It still hurts and it's still disappointing that he couldn't hold his interest, but at least he knew it was coming.

So when out of the blue, Geralt messages to say he'll be in town for the weekend Jaskier is shocked, to say the least. And when he asks if he would want to meet up for coffee, Jaskier waits a day to respond in case Geralt accidentally messaged the wrong person. And then, when he confirmed he was indeed the intended recipient and carelessly told Geralt he would love to see him, promptly launched himself into a panic attack.

Because Geralt has only ever seen his face. And, all things considered, it's a pretty good face. But Geralt has never seen his arms, splotchy red and bumpy. Geralt has never seen his legs and forearms, scarred from stress-picking. Even as he stands in front of the closet he finds himself rubbing a spot on his arm. He crosses his arms firmly, staring into the closet and he hates himself because it's his own fault he's like this.

Maybe he should cancel. It wouldn't be such a big loss anyway; Geralt would never be interested in him and maybe it's better to cut ties before he gets too attached. But a bigger part of him wants desperately to see Geralt, to meet him for real, maybe even to hug him if he's very lucky.

He picks out a long-sleeved blouse and skinny jeans with the knees ripped. It's the only part of his leg he's willing to let Geralt see and it's hot in the middle of July so he'll need some ventilation.

He still toys with the idea of cancelling, right up until he's walking out the door.

Geralt meets him outside the coffee shop and the initial meeting is… fine. Geralt is even more stunning in person and it makes Jaskier's heart ache. He tries not to think about how far away Geralt is and how incompatible they are, realistically, but it doesn't work. He lets himself get lost in Geralt's eyes, in the low timbre of his voice and the utter joy in it when he laughs. Fuck, he's really in too deep this time.

When they've finished their drinks, Geralt suggests they take a walk and Jaskier, a fool, agrees. It's only ten minutes before the hot summer sun is too much for him and he feels like he's sweating through his shirt. (As if he wasn't enough of a mess already.) He wonders if he ducked away if Geralt would miss him too badly, or if he could make an excuse to go home and cut out early.

Geralt evidently notices his discomfort and stops. They're in the middle of a busy park and Jaskier doesn't know what to do with himself. He wants to run, but he doesn't want to leave and Geralt is looking at him like he's worried and it's all too much.

"Are you okay?" Geralt asks and Jaskier nods weakly.

"A little hot," he shrugs.

"Of course you are," Geralt chuckles, "you're wearing sleeves and black jeans in the middle of July." Geralt, of course, is wearing a much more sensible t-shirt and shorts. "Why don't you just take it off, no one will mind."

He's referring, of course, to the shirt. To the only thing keeping Geralt from realizing he's not beautiful like he pretends to be. Because his arms? His legs? They're ugly. He's ugly.

So he just shakes his head and keeps walking. But when Geralt catches up again, he doesn't seem convinced. In fact, he seems concerned.

"Jaskier," he asks, just barely brushing his arm, "is something wrong. I didn't mean- I just thought you'd be more comfortable." And what the hell, Geralt is never going to love him anyway.

"I'm not-" he falters when he looks at Geralt so he drops his gaze instead, staring at the path between their feet. "I'm not beautiful. I- my arms are… I hate them."

There's a soft hand on his shoulder and Geralt guides him toward a bench, sitting him down and crouching in front of him.

"How come?"

"They're awful. I have this thing," he mutters but that's as far as he gets.

Reluctantly, he rolls up the sleeve of his blouse to reveal scarred skin. He doesn't even like to look at it. For years he has watched people in movies, desperately wishing he could have beautiful, unmarked skin, that he hadn't ruined his own body. Tears prickle at the back of his eyes and it's all he can do not to yank his arm away when Geralt touches him.

Without a word, Geralt rises to his feet and pulls his shirt over his head. Jaskier's eyes catch on his toned stomach and defined abs, completely bypassing the red rash that runs diagonally across his chest until Geralt points it out.

"Incident with some fire coral," he explains, "I was fresh out of school and thought I knew everything. I didn't." Jaskier huffs. He's trying, but Geralt's scar is interesting, it has a story. He says as much and Geralt just smiles at him.

"Then what about this one?" He pulls up the leg of his shorts to reveal a thick white scar on his thigh and Jaskier winces. "Was fucking around with my brother. He pushed me into a pond and I fell on a broken bottle. Or-" he adds, twisting to reveal a much fresher looking wound, still pink and healing, just above his hip. "I backed into a table last week at work and stabbed myself on a scalpel."

He reaches out, gently rolling Jaskier's sleeve back down and buttoning the cuff. He ducks his chin and when Jaskier looks down, he realizes Geralt is blushing.

"What?" Jaskier asks, expecting a teasing reply. Geralt just runs his hands along his forearms and looks up at him sheepishly.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers, rubbing his thumb along the inside of Jaskier's arm. "I don't want you to feel like you have to hide from me. When I messaged you, I meant to ask if you'd… if you'd want to get dinner with me, but I thought that might be too forward, so I settled for coffee. And I was going to suggest heading down to the beach, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Jaskier shrugs, unsure of what else to do because he's likely living in some fantasy land because people like Geralt don't like people like him. And they certainly don't want to take them out to dinner.

"Dinner would be nice."

"Dinner," Geralt agrees and Jaskier is shocked to find Geralt looks a little surprised, too.

"But maybe not the beach. Not this time."

"We could take a walk on the beach?" Geralt offers, "after dinner? Maybe after we find you something more comfortable to wear?"

Jaskier laughs nervously, twisting the cuff of his sleeve in his hand. "I'd like that."

[fanfoolishness]

The Scent of Whiteleaf (The Mandalorian)

Grogu and his protector visit a calm and peaceful world, searching for those who could help them find a Jedi. They find something else instead. Grogu POV. Grogu & Din, some of Din's backstory, and several gentle family bonding moments. 4800 words.

***

The air smells clean and crisp and biting, underlaid with the scents of dry soil and bitter plants. Grogu blinks against the wind, his ears fluttering, and he feels safe in strong arms.

His protector explains to him what they are doing here. Grogu leans against the man’s chest, feels the metal warmed by the late afternoon sun as the familiar voice speaks. He likes the sound, even if it comes out metallic; when the man talks to him, there is a gentleness that comes through, clear and shining, in the Force.

“This is Ysedros Major,” the man says, gesturing to the hills beyond them. “I used to live here long ago with other Mandalorians. Some may have returned. If they did, maybe they can help us.”

The man’s footsteps are wide on the narrow path. It looks rocky and overgrown. Grogu is jostled with every step, but it’s fun with all the bouncing. He looks up at the man’s head, gleaming silver in the sun.

“I know, I know,” says the man. “It would be quicker if we could take the Crest, or use the Rising Phoenix. But we don’t want to scare anyone if they’re still there. And there’s creatures here that don’t like things flying in their airspace.” He points high above, and Grogu squints, following his arm. Great winged things soar together in the distance, keeping close to one another. “We called them baj’uliik. Beasts of the air. I remember they were… feisty.”

Grogu shrinks away from the beasts, though they are far away. The man chuckles. “Don’t worry, kid. They only attack things on the wing.” He takes a few more jostling steps as they descend. “Are you thinking about the creatures on Nevarro?”

Grogu curls one hand over the man’s thumb. It’s strange how the man understands him perfectly sometimes, and other times, seems so confused by what he is trying to say.

“It’s okay. The baj’uliik will only bother us if we bother them first.” His steps are steady on the rocky path. Grogu watches the way the man’s boots avoid big rocks on the path, brushing against bushes and leaves as he walks. Grogu squirms in his arms, reaching down to try and grab a few leaves as they pass. The man walks faster, lifting him up high enough so that he can’t reach them. “Not those ones,” the man says. “That’s fire-nettle. It won’t hurt me in my armor, but it would give you a horrible rash.”

Grogu lets out an annoyed sigh. The leaves are pretty, olive green and clustered in groups of three, their edges reddish orange and serrated in an interesting pattern. Maybe he’ll find a way to touch them later.

The path twists and turns as they descend lower into the valley. Grogu watches the plants and rocks as they walk, sniffing deeply as they pass a plant of shiny, spiky dark green needles, or a plant of pale long leaves and purple-pink flowers. He settles into the man’s arms, his eyes growing heavy with the rhythm of the footsteps.

***

Grogu yawns, opening his eyes and stretching his arms upward. It’s getting dark now. His ears swivel, picking up sounds of bugs chirruping, birds calling hoodu, hoodu, a trickling sound. He smells water.

The footsteps stop and the man lowers him to the ground. “Stay close, buddy. I’m gonna check and see if this stream has fish for dinner.” Grogu scrubs his eyes with his fists, blinking, and hurries to keep up with the man. His feet sink into mud and he giggles, feeling the squishy sensation between his toes. This might be a good place for --

His ears twitch. Little sounds, familiar sounds, skitter along the water’s edge. Grogu’s stomach rumbles. He reaches out through the Force, feels a little creature hiding in the mud, feels its heartbeat -- he pounces!

The frog squirms in his hands, wet and slippery and smelling delicious. He shoves it into his mouth, and the man finally notices him. “Hey! What have I told you about --” The man sighs. “Oh, go ahead.”

Grogu swallows his prize, grinning. He will never understand why the man doesn’t seem to like frogs, the best food in the galaxy.

The man turns back to him, holding up a fish squirming on the end of the cord that comes out of his wrist sometimes. “Come on. We’ll have some real food, too.”

Grogu scowls. Frogs are real food.

The man cooks the fish over a little fire. It does smell good, though. Grogu sits close to the man’s boot, leaning against it. He likes dinnertime with him. The man always gives him tasty things to eat, and he likes to talk some while Grogu eats.

Sometimes the man is so quiet, and Grogu can only get little flashes of him through the Force, focus and duty and… and fear, sometimes. Grogu knows that one. But he never feels fear when the man sits with him in these moments, around the fire.

“Hey, look here, kid,” says the man, stepping away from the small flames. He beckons to Grogu, and he follows curiously. The man crouches beside a bush. It smells good, crisp and herbal. It’s one of the pale bushes that he saw on the path, instead of the one with the pretty red-edged leaves. “This bush is okay for you to touch. It’s called whiteleaf. We can cook the fish with it.”

Grogu reaches out, stripping a few leaves from the plant. He crushes them against his palms, smells the clean herbal scent, and grins up at the man. He plucks a few more, then carefully holds them out for the man to take.

“Thank you,” he says. He takes the leaves and adds them to the fish. The smell is rich and Grogu licks his lips. He holds up his hands, grasping for the food.

“It’s hot,” the man warns, putting a portion of fish into a small dish and handing it to Grogu. “Let it cool for a minute.”

Grogu sits down with his treasure, balancing the dish on his knees. He blows on it to cool it down, and glances up at the man, who is taking the rest of the fish.

“We’ll rest up tonight,” says the man. He lifts his helmet slightly to take a bite of food. Grogu watches intently. He had known right away the man was not a droid -- he could feel the man through the Force, hear his heartbeat pounding -- but it had taken some time to realize that his silver skin, his armor, could be adjusted or removed. He looks at the man’s chin, watching as he eats the fish. He senses contentment, ease.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

Grogu startles at the man’s question, then takes a bite of his fish. The whiteleaf tastes rich and earthy under the delicious fishy flavor. He hums a cheerful sound, then leans against the man’s boot again, giving him a gentle nudge.

“There you go,” the man says. “It’s pretty good. We used to eat a lot of fish here. River trout’s the best, but greengill are all right, too.”

Grogu finishes up his fish, his eyes getting heavy. A content feeling of fullness spreads through him, and he sighs, leaning harder against the man’s leg.

“Getting sleepy, pal?” he asks. “It’s been a long day. C’mon.” He picks Grogu up, cradling him in his lap, and Grogu curls up against him. Up above Grogu can see the stars, swinging bright and glittery in the darkness. The insect chorus gets louder, and Grogu senses them, tiny pinpricks of light in the Force all around them. It makes him feel relaxed. He remembers the Jedi temple, feeling others around him all the time, safe and content in their home.

“I think we’ll make it to the covert tomorrow,” the man says quietly. “If they’re there, maybe they can lead us to a Jedi for you. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Grogu frowns. The Force contracts around the man, his normally bright signature darkening. Fear. Dread. Sadness. Grogu doesn’t understand. Usually the man’s words match the way he feels, strong and strong, sad and sad, angry and angry. But when the man brings up Jedi, the words and the feelings never match.

Grogu grips the man’s hand with his own, closing his eyes and holding on tightly. He tries to send an image of the two of them by the fire in the cool evening breeze, the sound of insects buzzing in the dark, good fish in their bellies, and he tries to send happy, safe, now.

But the man just pulls him a little closer, hand brushing over Grogu’s ears, and says, “We’ll find that place where you belong.”

***

Grogu shifts in his soft blue blanket, a gift from the nice lady on the planet of trees and krill and frogs. He misses the children he used to play with there, Winta and Soris and Nibs. He wonders if he will see them again, but no visions come to him, no future sight showing the children delighted to see his return. He pushes his blanket aside.

The dawnlight is bright and fierce, and he squints against it. He gets to his feet, standing up tall and looking over the man, who still seems to be asleep beneath his own blanket on the rocky ground.

Maybe he can find something for breakfast while the man sleeps. Another frog, maybe, or even a fish! Wouldn’t the man like that? He carefully walks to the stream edge, watching the water sparkle beneath the sunlight. He glances to his side and sees the pretty red-edged leaves, fluttering in the breeze. Fire-nettle. But maybe the man is wrong, maybe he’s mistaken --

Grogu grabs the pretty leaves. For a moment he feels excited, seeing the way the green and red looks against his hands. And then he realizes --

He can’t help it. He closes his eyes and lets go of the leaves and wails.

The man is there, flinging his blanket aside and rushing to the stream’s edge. “What is it, kid? What happened? Are you okay?”

Grogu holds out his hands, quivering. They burn! His skin prickles and sears, and he whimpers, stumbling towards his protector.

The man carefully takes his hands in his own, examining them. “Did you -- oh, no, the fire-nettle,” he groans. “Come here, come here, quick.” He plunges Grogu’s hands into the cool stream-water, and the burn lessens. He holds Grogu’s hands deep in the water, and Grogu trembles.

“I told you,” says the man, but his voice is gentle. “You have to be careful, okay? Don’t scare me like that. How are your hands?”

Grogu shakes his head back and forth, wincing. They still hurt. It isn’t fair! The leaves were so pretty.

The man sits him on his knee, holding him there with one hand while he rummages in his belt for something with the other. He pulls out a little packet of ointment and squeezes it into Grogu’s palms, then rubs his hands together. Cooling relief spreads over his hands, and Grogu sighs gratefully.

“Feeling better?” the man asks. He rubs Grogu’s back with one hand, cradling Grogu’s sore hands in the other one. He is quiet for a moment, but when he speaks again, Grogu feels it coming from him, that warmth, that gentleness.

“I learned this the hard way too,” he admits. “I was young when I lived here, and it was only for a few months. We had to move a lot to stay safe. I heard some of the older fighters talking about fire-nettle, about getting it on their armor and their hands. I thought --” He chuckles. “I thought they were being too cautious.”

His knee bounces slightly, Grogu bouncing with it. He smiles a little at the bouncing as the man continues. “One of them dared me to hold some. I took off my gloves and… Well, it has that name for a reason, kid. Which you now know. My hands didn’t stop burning for a week.” He shakes his head. “But this ointment should take care of you. You let me know if you need more, all right?”

Grogu nods, looking up at him. He’s so bright in the sun, bright enough it hurts his eyes, but Grogu keeps looking at him anyway. He loves the way he shines.

***

They travel through the morning. Sometimes Grogu walks at his side where the path is relatively flat, and he enjoys the feeling of silty, sandy soil under his toes. He smells the plants as they walk through scrubby hills and valleys, and though he stays far away from fire-nettle now, the man teaches him names of some of the other things they see. Whiteleaf and bitterbush, good for cooking. Shivertree: the man lifts Grogu’s hand and rests it on the smooth reddish bark. It’s cold! Much colder than the warm outside air. It makes Grogu’s mouth drop open in surprise.

They pass short trees the man calls buckleberry, golden bushy plants he names shimmershrubs. The coarse grass waving on the hillside he says is red cheatgrass, and the white flowers like soft bright stars he says are snow weeds. Grogu looks at all of them, and he marvels that the man knows so many names.

Sometimes there are animals. In the distance they sometimes see the baj’uliik, but there are nicer things, too; the man points out wild bantha, flower beetles, no-no birds and grub worms. (Grogu eats three before the man notices and scolds him.)

Lunch is a hill hare the man shoots with a blaster and roasts over open flame, flavored with bitterbush that Grogu helps him collect. The meat is rich and juicy, savory and tender. The man cooks well. Grogu belches broadly as he finishes his meal, and the man laughs, a sound that rings out metallic and true. Happy and happy. There is no talk of Jedi.

***

The evening sun slants low over the canyon. There are small buildings below them, a little group of them clustered together. Plants grow on the roofs, mostly hiding their forms, but with the sun hitting them Grogu can see streaks of gold and red in windows and on the edges of the walls. He looks up at the man curiously.

“That’s the covert,” the man says, his voice rough. “It may still be in use by others of my kind.”

Grogu thinks of the strange word the man keeps thinking, feeling, when he says things like that. Mandalorian. He talked of it a lot on the planet of ash and lava, when the Ugnaught and the droid tried to help them; others say it, too. He wishes he understood. He knows it’s important. Is it like Jedi?

The man carries him close on the path down into the canyon. Grogu catches determination and something complicated that he doesn’t have the words for. It’s like hope and fear combined. The man’s footsteps are careful and measured, and Grogu scans the environment as they walk, looking for signs of other people.

He casts his awareness out into the Force. He has grown used to the lonely feeling of never feeling anything reaching to him, but there is still a part of him that hopes something will touch back.

It doesn’t, this time. He closes his eyes, reaching, reaching, and finds only tiny creatures among the walls, beings even smaller than himself. Little grass mice, scurrying in the empty buildings. He reaches up to the man, his claws tapping against the metal armor, but the man just nods at him, absently patting the back of his head. “We’ll be there soon, kid.”

Grogu sinks back against him, letting out a long breath. The man will find out soon enough.

***

The man sits quietly on a stone bench in a solitary courtyard, secluded and hidden by the canyon walls. The last rays of the day’s sun line the edges of the walls in gold, leaving the rest in deep blue shadow. Grogu walks through the gritty soil, bending down periodically to poke at a glittery green beetle or play with a patch of blue-flowered grass. He tries to distract himself, but the man’s feelings buzz in the back of his mind, louder than they ever have before. The more the man protects him and keeps him safe, the easier it is to feel him, all the time.

The man sits very still and calm on the outside. But confusing memories flicker through him, snatches of sound and image that Grogu can only catch little pieces of. He remembers far-away lessons in the Temple, Master Yoda teaching him about people who could use the Force the way they do, and people who could not. He remembers Master Yoda saying the Force is in all living things, that even if a person cannot use the Force, the Force still surrounds them. Grogu concentrates and he sees --

The young man in the silver helmet, training hard in the courtyard, taking blows that make his head rattle and his teeth ache, but he has to -- has to prove he’s worthy --

The burn of fire-nettle on his hands, slipping gloves back over the skin despite the throb, the laughter of the other young people --

A language Grogu doesn’t recognize, but its words mean home and family --

Hurrying to gather his things, the voices of the others urgent and metallic, fleeing through the canyon paths --

The dark tunnels beneath the town, the man sinking to his knees, loss rolling off of him in waves --

The shining woman in gold and red, metal sparking under her hands, speaking words of clan and quest --

Grogu walks back to the man, his hand held tight around the stem of a bluegrass flower. His palm feels smooth and whole again, the burning of the fire-nettle a distant memory.

He tugs at the man’s leg, holding up his flower when the man’s shining head tilts to look at him. The man sighs, a long, shivering sound. “For me?” He reaches out and Grogu presses the flower into his hand. “Thanks, buddy.” He lifts Grogu onto his lap, stroking one of his ears gently between his fingertips, and in his other hand, he carefully holds the flower.

“I wish we could have found them,” the man says. “I thought I could help you here.” Disappointment, loneliness, relief. Grogu shakes his head, confused. He reaches to the man’s arm, tugs on his sleeve.

“I never thought I’d see this place again,” he says, gazing down at Grogu. “We were safe here, for a time.” He looks around at the courtyard, the light vanishing into darkness. “Come on, kid. Let’s get some rest. It’s too late to hike back tonight.”

He carries Grogu through the halls, switching a light on his helmet that shines bright in the dark. The hallways are lined with bunches of cheatgrass or climbing vines, and Grogu can hear the grass mice scampering on the floors as they pass.

“There’s the public quarters,” the man says mechanically. “If your meal and training and work were done, you could spend time here. Talk to people. I didn’t do it often.” Grogu nods. That seems right.

“Here’s the mess. We’d prepare food here, take shifts serving. We ate alone except for family groups. Easier, that way. It’s where I learned about some of the food on this world.” He waves at the empty hall, and dust shifts as they move onward.

“There’s the weapons lockers. We each had one for our own weapons. The whole room was cleaned three times a day to keep the dust out.” But the dust is thicker here than anywhere else.

“And here’s my quarters,” he says suddenly, stopping in front of a narrow doorway. He jimmies the door open, since it doesn’t light up, and they slip inside. There’s a small bed inside, barely bigger than the one back on the man’s ship, and a cramped refresher unit wedged into the back. A narrow metal cabinet leans against the wall, its drawers open and empty. The man shoves the drawers back in and settles on the sleeping surface, and Grogu coughs in the dust.

“Sorry,” the man says, fanning the air rapidly to try and move the dust away from him. “I guess it’s been a while.” He wipes away as much dust as he can from the bed and stretches out on it, holding Grogu carefully against his chest. Grogu holds himself up on his forearms, looking curiously at the man.

“What is it, kid? What do you need?”

Grogu sits back down against the man’s armor, huffing. He doesn’t need anything. He just wants. That’s different. He looks around at the little room and he wonders if it was like the temple, long ago. He tries to see inside the man’s mind, but it’s gotten muddled again, and Grogu gives up, frustrated.

“Well, you tell me if it’s something major,” says the man. “Vacc tube probably still works. And I have more of that bacta ointment, if your hands are bothering you. You let me know, okay?” He pauses, then realizes. “You need a story?”

Grogu babbles, climbing up so that he can rest against the little spot of softness between the man’s face and the metal on his shoulder. The man rubs his back, holding him close.

“Hm,” the man begins. Grogu has noticed it always takes him a little while to come up with a story. He doesn’t know any of the Jedi stories, the tales of heroes of the past, the ones they used to tell him in his old home. But sometimes the man tells stories of his own people, and sometimes he tells stories with Grogu in them, too. Grogu loves them all.

“I learned a lot here,” the man says thoughtfully. “I had just sworn the Creed, and there was much I still needed to learn. I practiced with weapons and the Rising Phoenix. I know -- I told you the baj’uliik didn’t like the Rising Phoenix -- well, we used to use them for target practice. One of us would practice our flying. The other one would practice their aim. Sometimes there were some close calls.” He chuckles. “One day the baj’uliik came flying right toward me. I tried to fly away, but I couldn’t shake it. It took a bite out of me.”

Grogu’s mouth falls open. He grabs the man’s cloak, holds onto it tightly.

“I was fine!” he says hastily, patting Grogu. “But I lost my training Phoenix. The baj’uliik swallowed it, I fell about twenty feet straight down and broke my leg, and my partner was so surprised she let it get away. For all I know, it’s still flying somewhere out there, just a little bit heavier than all its friends. That’s why I didn’t have a Phoenix until our last trip to Nevarro.”

Grogu turns around, looking at the man’s leg. Is this why the armor on his legs is not the same, why one leg is heavier, why it’s nicer to hug the leg wrapped in leather instead of the leg clad in metal?

“Yeah,” the man says, bending the right leg and tapping it below the knee with his knuckles. Metal clinks on metal. “This helps keep it steady. It never healed quite right. But it still works fine, kid, don’t worry.”

Grogu swallows his worry. He feels mild embarrassment coming from the man, but nothing like pain, nothing like fear. Grogu relaxes, letting out a sound of curiosity.

“Tomorrow we’ll keep an eye out for the baj’uliik,” the man says. He leans back against the dusty bed, considering. “It was an opponent worthy of respect. Even if it tried to eat me.” He chuckles again. “Especially since it tried to eat me.”

Grogu isn’t sure if it’s his favorite bedtime story the man has told him -- it’s a little too scary -- but it seems to make the man happy, and the happy feeling soothes him. He curls up against the man and the warmth inside him, and the weight of the man’s hand on his back helps him fall asleep.

***

The man wakes him up far too early, and Grogu is grouchy as the man works through their morning routine -- using the vacc tube, a quick bath for Grogu and a hasty breakfast of ration bars. Grogu’s not too fond of them, but he munches his bar as the man carries him out of the lonely compound and up the steep hill.

He falls asleep halfway up the canyon and doesn’t wake up for some time. When he does, he realizes the man’s footsteps are quick and long, nearly a run. Like there’s nothing left to see here. It makes Grogu feel sad, though he isn’t sure why. He holds the man’s hand as they journey, and he watches the paths for creatures.

The long day stretches on, and the sun begins to swing low once more. The man’s faster stride and their early start mean they will reach the ship before night falls. He wishes they could stay and hunt frogs instead.

They reach a narrow canyon and look down. To Grogu’s surprise there’s the ship! They had reached it even faster than he had thought. He looks up at the man, resting a hand against his chest. The man is tired, he feels. “All right, kid. We’ll have one more dinner here before we head out. I could use a break anyway.”

He sets Grogu down on a flat stretch of land, the cheatgrass tickling his toes. Grogu sniffs, rotates his ears. He senses another hare, and he looks meaningfully up at the man, then waves a hand in the hare’s direction. The man nods, and it’s just a few moments later that the man has a cleaned hare over the fire while Grogu hunts for bitterbush and whiteleaf.

He finds a small whiteleaf plant a little ways away, and he sits beside it, carefully pulling a few leaves from the bush. It smells so clean! He hums to himself, pleased, then shivers at a ululating cry, carried on the breeze.

He stares up at the sky and he sees it -- a baj’uliik flying overhead, its leathery wings shimmering in rippling gold and green and scarlet, its long feathered tail streaming behind it, glittering in the fading sun. He watches it fly away, each wingbeat slow and methodical and so, so beautiful. He is sad that one hurt the man, but happy that it got away.

He lifts one hand and waves as it goes.

“They’re something else, aren’t they?” the man asks him. He kneels beside Grogu, carefully taking the whiteleaf leaves from him. He watches the creature fly, head tilting to one side, then shakes himself into action. “Come on, kid. Dinnertime.”

They eat the hare together, Grogu making a mess of his meal and thoroughly enjoying every bite. The man just laughs and helps to clean him up.

They sit quietly together as the sun vanishes and the moons begin to rise. Grogu leans against the man’s thigh, full and glad. He knows the man did not find what he came here for, but there is the cool evening air, the cry of the baj’uliik far away, the scent of whiteleaf.

The man clambers to his feet, lifting Grogu into his arms. “Come here a minute, kid,” he says. He carries him back to the whiteleaf plant, its leaves glimmering beneath the moonlight. He crouches down and sets Grogu down beside him, then begins digging with his hands. Grogu watches curiously.

“There’s a little UV light on the Crest,” the man says to Grogu. “Helps me keep a schedule for day and night, when I want. But… we could use it to help grow a plant, too.”

Grogu claps his hands together. He senses from the man hope, longing, things hard for Grogu to understand. But they are good things, he thinks, and he likes it when the man feels good. The man lifts the plant from the ground, its roots tangled up in a ball of soil, and he gently sets it in Grogu’s arms.

“Keep hold of that til we get back to the ship,” the man says. He picks Grogu up again. “I know you’ll keep it safe.” He cradles Grogu carefully so that Grogu can keep good hold of the plant. “Ready to go, buddy?”

Grogu nods. The fresh scent of whiteleaf flares with every step the man takes toward the ship. They reach the Crest and it lights up with their approach, the door opening as the man adjusts something on his arm. Grogu curls a sweet-smelling leaf between his fingertips, feeling warm and safe; and in the Force, he feels the man is happy, proud, home.

[moody-bloosh]

can you write headcanons about la squadra with their tall girlfriends (maybe even taller than them lmao) who looks really intidimated but deep down she is just a little puppy at heart. like, clingy and affectionate, loves receiving headpats , giving them the best puppy eyes and has the cutest pout Ò w Ó

While writing this, I was watching compilations of Scorpia from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. She really embodies this ask, I think XD ((please watch SPOP it’s really good I love it so much

others are under the cut because it’s a bit long ;;; it’s all of La Squadra after all uwu 

Risotto Nero 

There’s nothing he loves more than coming home to you after a long day. When you hold him in your arms, he feels safe, warm, loved. 

Usually, Risotto is a stern and fair capo, when you bring out the puppy eyes though. He just melts. 

“Fine, we’ll foster the dog, just until we can find him a good home, alright?” 

Adores how affectionate you can be with him and without any shame, he’s always under a lot of pressure from work so there’s nothing he loves more than being doted on by you. 

Loves it when you run your fingers through his hair as he lies on your lap and he tells you about his day and you in turn give such comic responses to his wacky days. 

You live for Risotto’s headpats! 

Sometimes he wonders what he did in this life to deserve someone as wonderful as you. He will voice out his concerns, will tell you that you deserve someone better than him. But you tell him that he is already the best and nothing he can tell you will make you think otherwise. 

The little spoon. Do not take this away from him, or else someone will end up seriously hurt. 

Prosciutto 

He is one tough cookie to crack! Prosciutto is a little more firm than Risotto, your puppy eyes and pout won’t work on him.

However, he is very protective of you. If you so much as get a single scratch on you, he gets very irate and vows to take down whoever caused you harm. 

You’re a little more rash. Since his Stand isn’t made for direct combat and yours is, your job is mainly to protect Prosciutto. Something he gets super annoyed over. 

Isn’t he supposed to be the one protecting the love of his life? 

It absolutely tears him apart when he sees you all bruised up and bloody. He will berate you for being so reckless, while his words are biting, you know where he is coming from. 

“I’ll protect your body, Prosciutto, because you’re the one protecting my heart. I need to make sure you’re alright, so you can take good care of it.” 

He kind of just - reboots for a minute. Your words have a profound effect on him. Then he gets super blushy as he tells you that of course he’ll take good care of your heart. You’re the one he loves more than anything, after all. 

“So take good care of yourself too, idiot.” 

Pesci 

He gets super flustered when you engage in any form of skinship with him. 

Though, sure enough, with time, he gradually begins to warm up to you and your super affectionate nature. 

If Prosciutto gives him tough love, you give him all the sweet love you can muster. Doting on him with plenty of tender love and care, he really doesn’t know what to do and he gets super shy. 

Really it’s because you’re the first person he’s ever been in a relationship with so he doesn’t want to mess things up. 

You never tire of reassuring him how much you love him

Illuso

HUGGING ILLUSO IS THE BEST THING EVER SO YOU CAN NEVER GET ENOUGH 

His clothes are so poofy and fluffy, it’s like you’re hugging a teddy bear. 

Illuso says the filthiest things but he turns into absolute putty when you do cute things with him. 

Holding hands and swinging it around as you walk around, giving him a big hug when he gives you something surprisingly thoughtful, booping your noses together !? Be still, heart! Illuso can only take so much of your cuteness!!! 

Really loves it when you squeeze his hand to reassure him whenever he feels jittery. Whenever you do that, he makes sure to press a kiss on your hand. 

GIVES THE BEST HEADPATS, and you always give such cute reactions when he pats your head that he can’t help but always kiss you afterwards. 

Illuso just wants to protecc you, always trailing after you to make sure you aren’t getting bullied. 

Illuso is only kind and sweet to you, he’s still a total rat to the others. But that’s alright. He’s the rat you fell in love with

Formaggio 

Formaggio loves it when you get super affectionate with him! 

Sometimes he will even shrink himself so you can dote on him more and just get a cute attack over how sweet and smol he is. 

Sometimes though, he likes to shrink you just so that he can be the one giving you all the love and affection you want. 

Weak to your puppy dog eyes, just hit him with it and you will get whatever you want. Yes, whatever you want, the sky's the limit. 

Ghiaccio

When Ghiaccio gets mad, I can see you being the one to calm him down. You pick him up and sort of just rock him around to calm him down. 

REALLY LOVES IT WHEN YOU’RE BEING SUPER TOUCHY AND AFFECTIONATE WITH HIM 

BUT HE WILL NEVER ADMIT IT !!! 

It might be a little difficult though, because Ghiaccio will snap at you when you are being touchy with him. So tearfully, you withdraw but then all of a sudden he’s apologizing and trying very hard to explain himself. 

And you just sort of melt, apology accepted. You wrap him in a big hug while he sits on your lap, sort of just soaking in your affection. 

He actually leans in your touch and tells you, that he’s not really opposed to you embracing him. 

“I like it ...actually.” 

“Aww, Ghiaccio, your tsun side is cute too.” 

“Shut the fuck up and just continue cuddling me.” 

Melone 

Loves it when you carry him princess style. 

He loves to spoil you with cute things. You secretly really love them but you don’t like using them because you think that they don’t suit you. 

Melone will be all, “no, baby, you are an angel and you will look lovely no matter what, I swear it.” 

Melone loves you in such a way that you gradually learn to love yourself too

You two are a super duper lovey dovey couple. You give everyone toothaches from how sweet you two are being! 

The two of you can’t keep your hands away from each other but in such a way that you’re either always holding hands or hugging. You give Sorbet & Gelato a run for their money! 

Sorbet & Gelato 

Absolutely loves when you can carry the both of them in your arms at the same time. 

They’re already very touchy with each other so with the addition of you, y’all will be very much inseparable. 

Sorbet & Gelato love to talk shit to the other members of the squad and then run to have you protect them. 

The others are a little intimidated to fight you but also since you’re such a darling they never really want to hurt you. 

You’re the only one aside from Gelato who can make Sorbet smile. He always comes out smiling after you lift him up and swing him around. 

Gelato likes to make you carry him around piggy back style or even princess style if he’s feeling it. 

You’re always so happy to dote on and lavish love and affection on your darlings. 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.52

Keith couldn’t believe Lance bought him a puppy. An actual puppy. A real life puppy purchased with him in mind. He’d never thought he able to actually have his own pet, let alone a puppy. His boyfriend insisted on paying for, and carrying, everything they’d bought at the pet store, other than his new and very precious little puppy. He’d seen the little puppy trying to get everyone’s attention. None of the other puppies were playing with him, or paying any attention to him. The puppy kind of reminded him a bit of Lance in the way he fell on his back and bottom each time he tried to jump up at the plastic side of his cage. He was clumsy, with big paws and bigger ears, but he was so warm and tiny against him. Shiro wouldn’t approve, but if the puppy was staying at Lance’s then his brother couldn’t really be mad.

Sent to sit in the front of Lance’s car, Lance loaded up the back. His boyfriend seemed to take forever, and Keith was confused that he seemed to be talking to someone. Climbing into the driver’s seat, Keith noticed he was on the phone, which explained the random talking. Thanking whoever was on the other end, his boyfriend grinned at him

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“I called the vet I usually take Blue to. They don’t have an opening today, but they can see our handsome little man tomorrow afternoon”

Keith frowned. What if there was something wrong with him? What if the puppy didn’t like him? What if the vet found something wrong and they had to put the puppy down? He didn’t want to lose his puppy already... but it’d be on par with his life if he did. Reaching over, Lance ruffled his hair when he thought his boyfriend was going to pat the puppy

“Hey. He’s a good doggo. It’s for his needles. We can’t take him to the park until he’s had his injections. The puppies they get are rescues, they all get basic vet checks before hand. You heard what was said, this little dude has been waiting for weeks to meet his human. You’re allowed to be happy right now. You’re allowed to love him already, because he’s goddamn adorable”

“It feels like this is too good to be true... I didn’t... I don’t...”

Shit. He was getting teary. A fish was one thing, but a puppy was another. Lance pulled him to a one armed hug, kissing his hair as he did

“Hey, you deserve good things. And this puppy, he’s going to be your responsibility. Shiro might not be cool with a puppy right now, but once he’s bigger and out of his chewing phase, he’ll be able to stay with you in the apartment. Let yourself have this. Because you’re the one going to be cleaning up all his messes”

Keith snorted wetly, raising his head to look at Lance

“Sorry...”

“Don’t be. People are quick to judge but trauma never really leaves us. You don’t have to hide that side away from me. I’m already a sucker for you and those galaxy eyes. It’s like you’ve got the whole cosmos in there”

He’d spent years bullied for them. They were the only thing Krolia had gifted him other than 40 weeks free rent in her womb... No that wasn’t being fair. She had no idea his dad would die and leave him behind

“People never liked my eyes”

“I do. They’re pretty amazing”

Lance wouldn’t lie, but he couldn’t find it in him to believe him completely

“They called me a freak”

Lance raised his top lip to expose his teeth

“As a freak, I can promise you that you have a long way to go before you’re one of us”

That was kind of true, but Keith didn’t mind Lance’s fangs. His boyfriend better at controlling them so he only cut Keith’s a little bit when they kissed now

“I don’t know...”

“I do. Now, let’s go introduce this little one to Mami. She’s going to love him. But that’s only if you want to. You can totally wait in the car with him and I won’t be offended at all”

Keith didn’t want Luis to see his new puppy. But he kind of wanted to see Miriam happy. She was important to Lance, which made her important to him. Kind of how that elevated Shiro from annoying brother

“I’ll think about it”

“I can always ask the staff and make sure Lisa and Luis aren’t there”

“No... I don’t want to kick them out”

“Zero pressure, babe”

Keith blinked at being called “babe”

“That’s like the third time you’ve called me that”

Lance’s cheeks hinted red

“If it makes you uncomfortable...”

“No. No... it’s... kind of nice. Makes me feel wanted”

That hint of red bloomed, as Lance smiled at him

“Babe. Keith. Other father to our new puppy, I want you. I want you around and in my life. I’ll take as much of you as I can get”

Keith felt awkward under the praise

“I thought you wanted to wait for that?”

It was Lance’s turn to blink

“Did you just... wait... what?”

“You started it”

“And now I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about it. Thanks, babe”

Keith leaned in, pressing a small kiss to Lance’s lips. He wanted to remember this feeling. Him, his puppy, and his boyfriend, all being happy

“You’re welcome”

*

“Keith, what is that?”

Sitting on the sofa with Curtis, Shiro was the only other person in the house when they finally got home. He’d been carrying his puppy around the whole time, the little pup deciding to pee in his lap as Lance drove them back to Garrison. He’d had a big drink while they visited Miriam, who’d had carefully pats with the excitable pups

“My jeans got wet?”

That wasn’t what Shiro was asking. Keith didn’t want to fight, but his puppy needed food and he needed a shower

“Don’t tell me Lance has turned into a puppy. Actually, tell me Lance turned into a puppy and you two didn’t buy a dog”

Carrying the shopping in behind him, Lance laughed at Shiro

“If you don’t know what a puppy looks like by now, you never will. And he’s not a “that”, he’s a “him””

Walking over to the space in front of the television, Lance dropped the bags from the pet store

“You got a dog?”

Keith shifted his weight. He knew it’d been too good to last. Lance didn’t seem to care, stretching after placing the bags down as he nodded

“Yep, we got a puppy. I mean, Keith’s kind of like a big puppy, but now we’ve got a little puppy”

“How does visiting Miriam result in Keith coming home with a puppy?”

Keith bit his bottom lip. He didn’t want to cry. Not in front of Shiro and Curtis, who were sitting too close to each other. Coming up behind him, Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist

“I think he’s pretty cute, and so’s the puppy. Yeah, he’s Keith’s, but, big but here, until he’s trained and a little older he’ll be living here at the house”

Shiro sighed as pinched the bridge of his nose

“Okay. Okay. But how? Why?”

“This little dudes been waiting weeks to be adopted. He’s the cutest little pupperino, and he does like the biggest pees ever. That reminds me, you need to take a shower. I’ll watch over our little man while you get cleaned up, then you can feed him. And I have to find Blue. I have to tell her about this”

Lance kissed neck, just below his ear, before whispering

“It’s okay. You’ve done nothing wrong”

Then why did it feel like he had. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t just have a puppy out of nowhere. Slipping around him, Lance put himself between him and Shiro

“Now, gimme the puppy. I want cuddles with our resident cutie’s cutie”

When Lance took the tiny puppy, Keith instantly missed him. He didn’t handle things too gracefully as he all but ran from the room and up to Lance’s. Shiro wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy and Keith had made him that way. A horrible sick feeling set in, because he really didn’t want to have to return the puppy. Those display boxes at the pet store were no place for animals. This little puppy probably had a hard enough life as it was. Lance had said it was okay... so why couldn’t Shiro be okay with it?

*

Lance waited until he heard the shower turn on upstairs before redirecting his attention from the puppy in his arms to Shiro

“Okay, right. Did you have to scare him off like that?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow at him

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you upset him and it’s not cool”

“Lance...”

“I get it. A puppy is a big deal. A pet is a big responsibility and you guys work crazy hours. What I don’t get is breaking Keith’s heart like this. He’s certain that he doesn’t deserve a dog. That he’s not allowed to be happy about it. A dog is a serious commitment. They’re not like a cat, even if Blue is a damn princess. But you should have seen him, Shiro. He was so happy. He’s been so happy since he held him the first time”

“We’re barely home with work”

Lance could see both sides here. But Keith was his boyfriend, and the puppy was his idea

“That’s why this little one will stay here. Maybe he was an impulse buy, but Keith deserves this happiness. He was so scared to tell you. He’s been scared since we left Platt. This little dude has been waiting weeks to be adopted. It was like... like they were waiting for each other without knowing it”

Shiro tiredly scrubbed at his face, with a soft sigh

“I’m not trying to be the bad guy. We would have a dog if we’d been in the position. But as you said, they’re a lot of work. I’m scared he’s not going to take things well if something was to happen”

“I get that. I don’t want to hurt Keith. I know it was rash and impulsive, but... His happiness... He was so happy. Out here is safer while he’s growing up. He’s got space to move with no traffic. I’ll work on getting him toilet trained, but Keith will do most of the training. This pup is for him. Even if... we don’t work out, I still want to know he had a friend there for him. No offence but there’s some things you can’t say out loud, so we say them to our pets”

“I guess... He is kind of cute”

“The dog or your brother?”

Shiro rolled his eyes at him

“You really want me to answer that?”

“Nope. Here. Have a cuddle and get him used to you both. I’m going to check on Keith”

*

Keith felt better for having showered. He didn’t know how to face Shiro, yet he was happy to no longer be covered in puppy pee. Thinking Lance as downstairs, he nearly dropped his towel in surprise when he found Lance sitting on the end of his bed, waiting for him

“Careful, don’t go dropping that towel”

“I... what... where’s the puppy?”

Keith didn’t mean to focus on the puppy, but Shiro wasn’t happy about it and now the puppy wasn’t with Lance

“Uncle Shiro is having cuddles. I’m letting our little dude work his magic on his uncle. Come sit next to me”

Keith did as Lance said, sitting down beside his boyfriend. Taking him by the hand, Lance interlaced their fingers

“Now. I had a talk with Shiro and explained that the puppy would be staying here for now”

“He wasn’t happy”

“No, but, he understands now. And he’s okay. It might have been impulsive, but if you hadn’t adopted him, I would have. Blue was all the company I needed. Well, Pidge and Hunk too, but I think having a dog around might be good thing too”

“You would have got him because of me?”

“Yes and no. Mostly yes, but that puppy, he didn’t ask to be born. He didn’t ask not to find a loving family, or to be surrendered. I know pet shops have rules and regulations but whenever I’m there I just want to take all the animals home. When I saw the way you looked at him, I knew you were seeing yourself, weren’t you?”

Keith didn’t know what to say to that. Yeah. He had. He’d been alone and ignored for years. He’d never been enough, no matter how good he was. He didn’t have his family and he never felt like he belonged at any of his foster families. He’d been a run away when Shiro had found him. So jaded and warped by life that he’d made Shiro’s life as hard as possible trying to drive him away

“Maybe...”

“I know your past is hard to talk about, but you can talk to me. Have you thought of a name yet?”

“No... I mean, every name seems... not right”

“You’re over thinking things. You and your galaxy eyes have the right name in there somewhere. Blue got her name from her Blue eyes. She was vicious as a kitten and that just made her cuter”

Lance was back on about his eyes again. Maybe... maybe they weren’t as weird as he thought? Maybe... he... maybe he was starting to like the colour thanks to his boyfriend. Shiro had reassured him like a million times over them, but this wasn’t his brother feeling obligated

“Do you really think they look like that?”

“What looks like what?”

“My eyes?”

Leaning in Lance kissed him softly, his lips against his as spoke, free hand coming up to cup Keith’s cheek

“I could get lost in them. They’re beautiful, like the rest of you. You’ve got your own little galaxy happening in there”

Keith malfunctioned. Awkwardly replying

“Your eyes are... pretty too... like the ocean and shit”

Lance drew back with a laugh, Keith internally dying that little bit more on the wake of fucking up his compliment

“Like the ocean and shit... shit isn’t pretty”

“Oh shut up”

Way to make him feel embarrassed

“I’m sorry... it was so you I couldn’t help but laugh. Anyway mine are just blue”

“It’s a nice blue, arsehole”

“My arsehole isn’t blue, but Blue is an arsehole”

He couldn’t fucking win

“I give up”

Lance shook his head, laughter dying down

“Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. As for the puppy, you have nothing to worry about. Shiro and Curtis are bonding over him. I’m not trying to eavesdrop, but they think he’s pretty cute”

“You think he’ll let me have him?”

“Babe, the puppy is already yours. I’d give you the whole cosmo if that meant making you smile like you were today”

Just like that warmth was filling his chest and his heart was doing stupid things

“I don’t want the whole cosmos...”

“I know. Hey, do you like space?”

The question made Keith draw his brow in confusion

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got an idea”

Lance seemed excited about whatever this idea was

“I’m glad you do, because I have no idea what you’re on about”

“I was thinking if you liked space we could give him a space name to go with those eyes of yours. So when you’re with your puppy, you can remember that you have someone in your life that thinks they’re pretty. Like, even if it doesn’t work out between us, I’ll never stop disliking you or your eyes... Man, it sounded much lamer when I say it out loud”

It was lame. Very lame and very Lance

“I... um... don’t know”

“Cosmo. But with a “K”, like for Keith. So it’s K-O-S-M-O”

Lance was way too excited now

“That’s a dumb name. I was kind of waiting for him to tell me his name in his own way”

Lance sighed at him

“I thought I was onto something there. Then I’d have my own galaxy and Kosmo...”

Keith felt himself starting to smile

“I thought the puppy was mine?”

“He is. But I’ve got you... so you know, by default and all that”

Lance was making him stupid with happiness. Lance didn’t judge him, nor had he pushed the topic

“You really like me, don’t you?”

Lance frowned at him, his expression slightly wounded

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“It is... but I wonder if it’s too obvious. Like you’re trying too hard to see anything in me”

Lance sighed at him, leaning in again this time to rest his forehead against Keith’s

“That’s because you don’t see your own worth, idiot. You’re all “Me hunt! Me stab!”, when you wanna be all “cuddle me”. You’re not the tough guy you think you are”

“I’m pretty tough...”

“And very manly. And very sexy. For an idiot hunter who convinced he’d gotten himself turned”

Keith wasn’t about to let Lance win again

“Just how sexy am I?”

“Ummm... like very sexy”

“Like sexy and shit?”

Lance didn’t laugh like he thought his boyfriend would, instead he nodded, practically whispering

“Very sexy and shit”

It felt right to kiss him. Lance responding openly, Keith’s hands finding Lance, pulling on him until his boyfriend was in his lap. The towel wasn’t offering much in the way of modesty, and Lance’s kisses were making him dizzy. Hungry and horny, they kissed less than innocently, Lance starting to grind against Keith’s semi. Holding his boyfriend’s hip, Keith body rocked to meet Lance on instinct, Lance’s sweet moans lost in the kisses. Then Keith was in his back, Lance diving back in for more kisses.

When Lance finally pulled back, his eyes were half lidded, sweetness starting to roll off of him

“We better stop”

Keith didn’t want to stop. Not with Lance in his lap like this

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know if I can hold back”

“Then don’t”

“Keith...”

A trace of warning hung in Lance’s tone. The day had been all over the place but it was one of the best days of Keith’s whole life. Their “not a date but a shopping trip” had felt a lot like he thought a date should feel like

“I’m not saying we have to do anything, but if you want to, I want to do it with you. Not because of your heat, but... because... I really like you”

Lance’s eyes widened

“Keith... I...”

“I really like you too. And today... today is a day I never want to forget”

“I don’t want to rush you. Or pressure you. We don’t have to...”

“No. No. It’s okay... I want to be... with you”

And he did. Sometimes Lance could be an arsehole, sometimes he messed up and made his boyfriend feel shitty, but at the end of the day, he wanted to be with Lance. He wanted to be physical, or try to be physical, with his boyfriend

“Okay”

[pepperonyspizza]

Let’s see how long I can keep this up

Day 1: Fantasy AU (Skyrim AU) also posted on Ao3! 

No Warnings, Pepperony, Humor 

Riften is even dirtier than Pepper expects it to be. The water underneath the bridges has long ago lost its blue colour and has instead turned brown. Trash is littering the city and no one seems to pay it any mind. She sees someone disposing of a half-eaten apple right in front of a guard and nothing happens. 

But not only the city itself is dirty. Honestly, the place is a dream compared to its residents. Pepper already had to nearly cut off a Nord’s hand after he tried to help himself to the contents of her pockets. One look at her sword was thankfully enough for him to get the message and quickly hurry along his way. 

Pepper wishes she could leave this town and carry on with her journey but the truth is that she’s tired and in desperate need for a good night’s sleep. For this one night, this place will have to do. She’ll leave first thing in the morning and get back on the road. 

The sun is just beginning to disappear behind the town’s large walls when she decides to take a quick look around the market. She’s running low on provisions and her armour has seen better days as well. Not that she expects this place to have much to offer but it can’t hurt to make sure. 

The worst thing that can possibly happen is someone trying to rob her once again. Riften is rather famous for its thieves guild after all - but that poor soul will learn that it’s not the wisest idea to steal from her. With any luck, the sword proudly displayed at her side will keep any potential threats away. 

Pepper has just finished paying for the chicken breasts when someone clearing his throat not too far away catches her attention. She turns to find herself face to face with a young man, his hazel eyes as captivating as they are dangerous. She not so subtly rests her hand on the handle of her blade, an action that causes the man to grin. 

“I’ve never seen you around before. First time in Riften?” 

“Yes and hopefully the last,” she says with as must disgust in her voice as she can muster up. 

The vendor gives her a dirty look for the comment before turning her attention to another customer but the man seems to be unbothered by it. If anything, the grin on his face widens. Pepper doesn’t want to admit it but he does look rather handsome, especially in the current light of the disappearing sun. 

“I figured. You don’t look like someone who belongs in a place like this.” He makes a vague gesture towards her blade. “That fancy sword you’re carrying suggest so at least. What brings you here? You got some business with the Jarl? Or Maven even?”

“A lack of options,” Pepper admits reluctantly. She has a feeling that if she doesn’t, the stranger will just keep on guessing. “I needed a bed for the night and there aren’t a lot of those nearby.” 

“Well, you’re in luck. The Bee and Barb has the best beds around. I mean, I wouldn’t know since they always throw me out but Keevera seems like someone who only sells the best of the best.” He pauses for a moment, apparently even annoying Imperials have to take a breath every now and then. “What brings you this far east?”

“Work.”

“Are you one of those companions that live in Whiterun? They also all act like they’re better than anyone else.” 

Pepper’s head is starting to hurt and she has the feeling that this man is the cause of it.

“My apologies,” she says even though she isn’t sorry in the least - but if this is the fastest way to get rid of him, so be it. “It’s been a rather stressful day and I’m looking forward to my warm bed.” 

The stranger’s eyes light up in an instant and he takes a step closer, leaving barely any space between them. Neither the displeased noise Pepper makes, nor the unimpressed look on her face are enough to discourage him.

“You know how that bed could be even warmer?” 

It takes every single bit of her self control not to punch him. She isn’t going to deny his good looks, but the arrogance with which he carries himself does nothing but irritate her. She wants to tell him so but he’s finally being quiet and without the annoying chatter, his brown eyes are enough to keep her from lashing out. 

That is until she can feel the slightest movement from her bag and knows what is happening. 

Pepper has her blade unsheathed and pressed against the man’s abdomen in seconds, dragging a shocked cry out of his mouth. The sound is music to her ears, as is the strangled gasp he lets out when she takes step after step forward until he's pressed against a wall with nowhere else to go. 

None of the people nearby seem to be bothered by the confrontation which only goes to show that her earlier assumptions about this place were right. 

“What’s your name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The man’s reluctance to tell her vanishes into thin air as soon as Pepper puts just a little more pressure on the blade still pressed to his stomach. “Ah, alright! Anthony! Easy with that, you’re going to ruin my good looks. I can’t work with a bunch of scars all over my body.” 

“Now that would be a shame. Then you wouldn’t have any tactic to steal from people.” 

“Exactly,” Anthony mutters, hands held up in a gesture of surrender. “Do you know how much trouble I am going to get into with the guild if I don’t bring anything home anymore? I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“Forgive me but I am having a hard time feeling any kind of sympathy for a thief that tried to rob me.”

“I am sorry about that. I should have known better. I was the one to get carried away by your looks.” 

She doesn't respond to that and Anthony holds her gaze for only a moment longer before his curiosity gets the better of him and he drops his head to stare at the weapon that’s keeping him in place. There is a slight pause in which he takes it in and then his eyes are growing big, even bigger than they are normally, and he looks back up at her in apparent shock. 

“By Ysmir’s beard, you’re a Blade! I thought you people were extinct.” The smile from earlier is back on his face but this time it appears to be… genuine. He continues talking before Pepper has the chance to contribute to the conversation. “You said work brought you here. Were you tasked to slay a dragon? Did you succeed? Is it still alive? Are you-”

“Alright, that’s enough,” she interrupts his rambling when the words start to blend together in her ears. “You seem unbothered by the fact that I could kill you any second. None of the guards have stopped me so far, which can only mean that they aren’t all that concerned about your well-being.” 

All Anthony does is shrug. 

“Given my status, they probably wouldn’t do anything. But you should listen to me before doing anything rash. I have a proposition to make.”

“Oh?” 

“Take me with you.”

Now, it’s Pepper’s turn to smile. He can’t be serious. The world outside is dangerous enough, even without actively searching for fights - which is exactly what she does for a living. The thought of Anthony battling a dragon is amusing, though the reality of it would be anything but. 

“I know I’m not much of a fighter but I know a thing or two about people. I could help! Not to mention that, if we ever have trouble with gold, I can-”

“You’re not going to steal from people,” Pepper says as if she’s actually considering his absurd request. She isn’t, at all. 

“Not even the bad guys that deserve it?” She simply glares at him. “Alright, no stealing then. But I know this land better than anyone. I know all the hidden paths and hideouts. Give me a chance and I’ll be of good use.” 

She doesn’t know why she hesitates with her answer. The logical thing to do is to say no. No, he can’t join her because he’s most definitely going to get killed in the first conflict he finds himself in. No, he can’t join her because he’s tried to steal from her and she can’t trust someone like that.

By any means, saying no should be the easiest thing to do. 

But the hope sparkling in his eyes is the most real thing in this forsaken town and the truth is that she could use someone who knows the landscape since she has never been here before. Tony is right about why she's here. She's been tasked with killing a dragon and so far, she hasn’t had any luck locating it. Which is ironic, given how gigantic the beast is described to be but she has a distinct feeling that it’s hiding in the nearby mountains. She won’t have a problem killing it, it’s the tracking it down part of the journey she can use assistance with. 

Anthony is still staring at her, holding his breath in anticipation. Whether or not he’s waiting for her answer or a stab in the gut,  Pepper isn’t sure. Either way, she can’t believe what she’s about to say next.

“I’ll think about it.”

The noise of triumph he lets out should feel like a loss but strangely, Pepper isn't bothered by it.

[dustonionpollywongus]

Burning Fears = Byler

Self harm warning, please read with care.

In which Will hates the cold, but Mike has enough heat for the both of them.

;

Will hates the cold.

No, he despises the cold.

No, he- fuck - he can't even think of a word that comes close to how much he dislikes the cold.

It's not just the weather- Will has never liked winter - but also the cold feeling that is hidden in his body. His heart feels frozen, his gut feels frozen, his mind - god, he can't think properly with the horrid gust blowing around in his head. The lingering feeling of the mind flayer crosses his mind more regularly than he likes and it is at that point when he can't fucking stand the cold.

So, he finds, there's only one solution to not being cold.

Being hot.

Will always where's at least two layers. A shirt and a jumper on top. The pullovers are usually Johnathan's old ones, but the boy doesn't mind, he feels hidden underneath- safe. Even in summer, if he doesn't wear a jumper it's usually only because he doesn't want any weird stares directed towards him. So he wears shirts.

One layer upon an another. Will has always been skinny, so nobody notices the slight thickness of clothing around his arms.

It's never enough. No matter what, he still feels cold. Even if Hawkins is having a major heat wave, he always has the coldness lingering in his chest - despite his friends' constant complaining of the weather. So he pulls his long sleeves so they cover his pale hands and keeps quiet.

It's around Halloween when he hates the cold the most. This is because it's always around Halloween when he gets his nightmares. Sure, he may get the odd one during the rest of the year, but Halloween. It makes the boy queasy just thinking about the holiday.

And it upsets him.

Halloween used to be his favourite holiday.

Now though, the monsters come back during the end of October. Maybe not physically, but Will still feels the same amount of distress. And on many occasions, he shoots up in the middle of the night sweating violently but feeling colder than ever.

Will decides that wearing 5 layers just isn't enough.

It's time to take it to the next level.

;

Joyce frowns at the sheets of data in front of her. The bills had just come in that morning , and now she was studying them about an hour later. She sighs and rubs her eyes with one hand, a yawn escaping her lips. It's too early in the morning for this.

Johnathan sits on the wooden table opposite her, a plate of eggs in front of him. Will is standing next to the toaster, two breads heating inside. The oldest son glances at his mother's obvious distress and decides to question what is ruining her morning.

"You ok, mom?" He asks, agitated. The older lady lifts her head from her hands and offers the boy a small smile.

"Just the bills."

Johnathan frowns. Bills have never been a pleasant topic. "What's wrong?"

Joyce hands him the slightly crumpled paper. She sighs lowly, "They're higher than normal."

The older Byers boy studies the paper, whilst the other boy in the kitchen butters his toast. Will's ear quirk up slightly, trying to catch his mom and brother's quiet conversation. Johnathan has a frown etched on his face, as he places down the data.

"Energy bills. It's the heating?"

Joyce hums and glances between her two sons. "It's going to be harder paying these off. Let's get the bills back to normal next month, ok?" She looks at Will, whose face is slightly flushed, and worry crosses her mind. However, before she can say anything, Will tells them he has homework to do and leaves the kitchen, his half eaten toast forgotten.

Joyce can't remember the last time Will was in such a rush to do homework.

;

It's Monday afternoon. Will has just returned home from school. He is relieved to be greeted by an empty house. His mom and brother are both at work so Will is free to do whatever he wants.

Or whatever he needs to do.

He decides to take a bath.

After placing his blue backpack on his bed, Will makes his way to the small bathroom. The family have a regular sized bath in a small bathroom. They can't afford a shower, but that wouldn't work for Will anyway.

The boy turns the hot tap on the bath and puts in the plug to stop the water draining. The cold tap is left, forgotten.

As the bath fills, Will makes his way to the kitchen and boils the kettle, which is full. He feels bad. He knows that he's the reason the bills have increased. But he needs this. It's the only want he feels safe.

He rushes to the almost filled bath. It steams dangerously but Will ignores it and pours the newly boiled water in. Once he is content with the temperature, he strips from his clothes and climbs in.

It used to be hot. Too hot. But he is used to it now. In fact, he enjoys the burning sensation it has against again his skin. He leans back and closes his eyes.

He stays inside until the water is lukewarm.

;

His skin is red, and itchy. It hurts underneath his raw nails as they scratch away at his body all through school. He's had another bath, a quick one on Thursday morning, but this time has not got the same affect as the others. He doesn't feel cold. He feels like he's burning.

The mind flayer isn't in his head- not right now- but it'll be back. Now, his mind focuses on the developing rashes under his shirt.

It annoys him the whole day. He twitches and rubs a hand over his chest through all his layers of clothing. He gets looks - odd ones from strangers, worried ones from his friends.

When Mike asks him if he's alright, Will responds that he is. He can't think of good excuse for his scratching.

Hesitantly, Mike lets it pass.

;

A month later and Will is laying in his bed at 2 pm on a Tuesday. It's a school day but he tells his mother that he's unwell. Joyce offers to stay at home but Will assures her that he'll be fine.

Tears roll down his cheeks as he stares up at his ceiling. He's crying because he's cold. Fuck- he's so cold. But he's sweating. Underneath two layers and a big blanket, his skin is red and raw. He's had 4 more baths.

No where near as many as he should have. But the bills have been higher than usual and Will feels guilty.

He shouldn't use so much heat and water.

So he thinks of another solution.

He needs something hot. Fire is hot.

He decided he needs to make a trip to the kitchen.

;

The first time he does it, he cries. He cries because it hurts. The fire from the cooker is scorching and out of instinct he retracts his arm.

But his mind tells him to go on. To do it again. So he goes back in, keeping his arm for a little longer. Tears stream down his face but he ignores them.

When he is done, he rinses his bubbling skin under the tap. It feels like agony, but the mind flayer has gone, so it was worth it.

The next time the bills come around, they are back to normal. Joyce is pleased.

And so is Will, his bandaged arms hidden underneath his long sleeves.

;

Mike wants to hang out with him. Will is surprised at first, but of course he never passes an opportunity to hang out with his best friend.

Besides Will feels guilty, he keeps pushing Mike away.

They watch a film- another Star Wars that they have watched countless times. Will is happy that he's with Mike. The last few months have been stressful (the weather is only getting colder) so Will is pleased he can lay back for a bit.

The two boys head upstairs to Will's room. Will let's Mike change in the bathroom, and then undresses himself with the door firmly shut.

He tries to change as quickly as possible, but it's too late.

Mike sees his harsh burns; he accidentally walked in, without knocking.

Mike stares at the other boy, his eyes as wide as saucers. The peeling skin stands harshly against Will's snow-white chest and arms, and he feels as if he might faint.

(Will visits the kitchen more times than he draws)

Mike was ready to apologise but the burns on Will leave the words forgotten. Will shys away from him, his face flustered, and quickly pulls down his first layer of clothing. He's about to grab a jumper when Mike stops him.

"Will... y-your skin!" He shouts. Will hastily shushes him.

"My mom's asleep, stop shouting!"

Mike begins to cry at the sight of Will and his best friend stares at him shocked. He tries to calm down the ravenet but has no such look. He does manage to make him sit on the bed.

"Why... why?" Mike whimpers into his shaking hands. Will has to lean closer in order to hear him. "Why is your skin burnt? What happened?"

Will stares at him not knowing what to say.

"Did someone do this to you?" Mike sobs, "I swear to god I'll kill them-"

Will interrupts him, confused, "Do this to me? No, no Mike. Nobody did this to me!"

Mike raises his head. "Then why...?"

Will drops his head in shame, his eyes welling up. He didn't want anyone to worry about him. "The mind flayer." He whispers.

Mike shoots up so fast that Will is surprised he doesn't get whiplash. "The mind flayer! Is it back?" He asks urgently.

Will shakes his head. "No... he's just in my head." He begins to cry, his words escape his mouth before he can stop them. "I hate it Mike! It feels like he's always here in my mind, and I can't get him out. And I feel so cold all the time. I c-can't..."

He sobs into his knees and Mike lowers back on the bed, next to him. Carefully, he wraps his shaky arms around the smaller boy and holds him close.

Will did this to himself to get rid of the mind flayer.

Mike feels such hatred; he's wouldn't be surprised if steam is coming out of his ears.

"Will." He speaks urgently once his friend has calmed down. "We need to tell your mom."

At this, Will's head shoots up. "No! We can't!"

Mike sighs, defeated, "Will, please. This is so dangerous. Your skin..."

"Mike, I'll get better. I won't do it again, promise." Will says, looking into his best friend's eyes.

Mike cries into the other boy, because he feels like such an awful friend. "How long?" He whimpers.

Will doesn't want to tell him, but he's already kept to much away from Mike. "5 months." He whispers.

Mike can't stop crying. And in the morning when Joyce asks him about his puffy eyes, he lies and tells her he had a bad dream.

;

Will breaks his promise. Actually, he broke it about a week ago.

He feels pathetic because he lied to Mike. He couldn't even last 2 weeks.

At school, he manages to stay away from Mike, who stays much closer to him now. He can feel the guilt eating him up inside, so he keeps his distance.

He has gym today. He wants to skip it, so he forges a note. Although he fooled the teacher, he can't fool Mike.

At the end of the day, Mike corners him in the car park. He leans forward with worried eyes. "You did it again." He whimpers.

Will can't bring himself to lie to Mike, so he nods.

;

Will is seething. He going to kill Mike. His mom had just come into his room with Johnathan, sobbing into her hands.

Will can't believe his best friend betrayed him.

He cries as he confronts Mike. Most of the tears come from his rage, but some come from the pain he feels when he moves his arms.

He tells Mike that what he does is none of his business.

He tells Mike that he trusted him not to say anything.

He tells Mike that if he was really Will's friend, he'd leave him alone.

Mike steps closer to him, face red with anger. "You're hurting yourself! I had to tell someone."

Will shakes his head, "If I wanted help, I'd tell someone myself. I'm not hurting myself, I'm hurting the mind flayer-"

"The mind flayer is gone Will!" He stops Will from interrupting him. "It's your PTSD. You think it's there, but it's not. You're hurting yourself because of it!"

Will stares, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I don't want it to come back." He sobs. Mike's anger vanishes instantly and he puts an arm around his best friend.

"It's gone Will." He whispers in his hair. "It's not coming back." He lets Will cry in his arms. "You need help."

"I don-"

"You do. You need to get better." Mike pushes.

"I'm broken, Mike," Will whimpers pathetically. "I won't get better."

"You will. I'll make sure of it."

Will lifts his wrist and wipes at his nose with his sleeve. "You'll give up when you realise I'm unfixable."

Mike shakes his head firmly. "I'll be with you every step of the way."

;

2 years later

Will stares at himself in his bathroom mirror. His shirt is off and all he can see is the glaring burns he punished himself with 2 years ago. They are old, and Will has managed not to burn himself for 9 months now.

Mike is with him in the bathroom. He is bent down slightly, lightly applying some soothing cream onto each scar. The cream is from Dr Owens, Will's therapist.

Will hates what he sees in the mirror. He did this to himself. He tried to get rid of the mind flayer. A monster which wasn't there in the first place. He silently cries because of his stupidity, because this is what it resulted in.

He had agreed to get help and now he can finally see what he did to himself.

Mike looks up when he hears Will's soft sniffling. His eyes ask a silent question, are you ok?

Will doesn't look at Mike, he wills for the tears to stop. Mike carries on looking at him, so Will decides to speak. "These are never going to go away, are they?" He asks, waving a hand sadly towards his chest. Mike can hear the pain in his voice and stands up quietly.

He looks at Will, into his hazel orbs, and kisses him.

It's nothing new, they've kissed before. During the last two years, they had figured out their feelings. Mike isn't just kissing Will Byers- he's kissing Will Byers, his boyfriend.

This kiss is different though. It's slow and gentle, instead of sweet and kind. It's holds promises for the future, instead of trying to hold together the present. It's safe and familiar instead of filled with sparks. They don't talk but the silence speaks a hundred words.

Mike pulls away but keeps the other boy close. He pulls him in for an embrace, kisses his temple, breathes in his hair. He draws random shapes into his bare shoulder. This is his best friend, his boyfriend, his soulmate.

He hates seeing him upset.

He digs his nose into the shorter boy's brown hair. "I'll still love you."

Will cries silently, "I'm a freak."

Mike disagrees. "You're you." He whispers, "I'll be with you forever even if you turn into the demogorgon."

Will chokes down a giggle, "I think that's impossible."

"I used to think it was impossible to love a person so much. Anything can happen!" He pulls back slightly and smiles at his boyfriend. "I'll be with forever ok? No matter what."

Will shakes his head. "You're crazy."

"Yeah," Mike agrees, "but crazy together, right?"

"Yeah, crazy together."

[atopearth]

Shall we Date? Wizardess Heart Part 23 - Alfonse Goldstein Route

Well, it’s Alfonse’s route and we haven’t even seen him yet, but the heroine is investigating some disease that turns people into monsters…and nope, those are zombies!! I hate zombies!!😥😫😫 Nice to see Alfonse come to her rescue out of nowhere haha. Ahh, he came to save these sick people, glad he had a potion that could return them all to normal😥 It was very kind of Alfonse to offer her his shoulder if she ever felt sad from thinking about her parents again☺️ Not sure why Alfonse doesn’t reveal who he actually is and why he’s on bad terms with Klaus, but I wonder if he’ll be at that big party? Since Klaus is in some media trouble with some girl, he asked the heroine to be his pretend girlfriend at the party and for a while so that he can get these girls off of him, and it does sound like a great deal to get to be Klaus’ girlfriend even if it’s only for a bit! Hahaha, I wonder how Alfonse will react though? Goldstein love triangle for a poor girl sounds like a great headline~

Oh wow, Alfonse runs a free clinic as a doctor in somewhere that’s like the slums part of town? That’s so admirable. Nice that the heroine wants to help him. I wonder if Alfonse pushes others away and doesn’t want them to sacrifice themselves for him because he sacrificed his family to do all this or something? Lmao when a reporter was following the heroine (since Klaus publicly announced at the party that the heroine was his girlfriend) at the academy and Caesar comes to the rescue in his pig form attacking the reporter hahahah. Omggg when she tripped and fell on top of him, and then Alfonse asked if they could stay like that a bit longer because he thinks that having her close makes him feel calm hahaha. It’s nice that they’re bonding nicely, but I wonder why he thinks he doesn’t deserve to be loved?

Alfonse wanted to protect the heroine from reporters and told them the bigger scoop that is, he’s actually a Goldstein. Tbh, I can’t see why the heroine has such strong feelings for Alfonse. They hung out a bit and chatted and ate stuff together etc, but I feel like it’s all on the assumption that they���ve been good friends for the past two years already and this is just the extra topping on the cake that made her realise she likes him, which is awkward because I don’t see why they’re into each other. I also found it unnecessary for Klaus to show that he might like her and that’s why he wants to stop her for drama, since Alfonse will apparently “hurt” her. But I guess maybe they’ll go more into that when they talk about Elaine? Heroine is just happy to help Alfonse. I can’t say whether Alfonse was right or wrong when he decided to discard his family to travel around and help people as a doctor and do research on these diseases etc, since it’s definitely admirable of him to do that, and I’m sure he must have saved a lot of people’s lives for the better. However, at the same time, because of that, he discarded his brothers to face the family and support it themselves and all this in his stead. Well, technically Klaus had to become the responsible one since he’s the second oldest. I guess the good thing is that Klaus does live up to the expectations of the Goldstein family so he doesn’t suffer as much as those who can’t live up to their families, but I’m sure it’s stressful and tiring all the same even though he doesn’t show it, and even though I’m sure he’s proud of his family as well. And I guess, even if Klaus doesn’t mind this life as the “eldest”, it doesn’t change the fact that Alfonse abandoned them and their family, albeit for a good reason, since he’s still following his beliefs and dreams to cure people even to this day.

Loll when they went to the underground graveyard place and Zeus kept scaring the heroine. The scariest thing was when zombies came out and Elias was one of them! Well, he’s technically not dead but still.. Thankfully Alfonse saved him in time, it seems like Elias really misses Alfonse though. I don’t blame Klaus for being so harsh towards Alfonse, especially since Klaus probably knows that Elias wouldn’t be mad at Alfonse no matter how much he has suffered all these years. Honestly, I find it hard to acknowledge that Elaine is happy now just because she’s married to another Baron. And the heroine thinking that she understands Elaine’s feelings just because they’re both “women”. I think I’d find better closure to it if she actually got to talk to Elaine, since regardless, the fact was that Elaine and Alfonse were going to get married in 3 months before he left for his journey and didn’t come back for like years. She’s probably happy that in the end, he chose what he really wanted to do but I’m sure she was at least a bit sad!

I can see why Klaus would reject the heroine’s plea for help. The core is supposed to be used to eradicate all if not most diseases and she wants to use it to save a minimal amount of people in the academy. Also, Alfonse never said that this will eliminate the Black Robe Plague, so in the end, this is just a band-aid solution. Andddd yet Alfonse and the heroine are going to steal the core that took Klaus and them years upon years to cultivate that amount of magic for their cause. Okay…. I’m not sure if the heroine really recognises the consequences she thinks she can take. Does she realise that if this supposed core can cure so many diseases that in essence, if other people know about it, then there would be crying families and people who could have been saved that would blame her for prioritising these few over like the whole world? Aaaand I find it difficult to comprehend why Glenn and Vincent would let them go through so easily just because they think that it’s easier to comprehend saving people in the academy against the world because they “know” the people in the academy. Honestly, considering their jobs, I thought they would be more logical and quite frankly, I’m disappointed. Obviously everything will work out in the end, but still, just seeing them go along with this with no regards to the consequences kills me. The repercussions don’t only include the people that could have been saved within these decades that diseases could be cured (assuming that what Klaus says is true about it), they’re practically going against the government and what if they have deals with others about this? I’m probably just overthinking (like I usually am) and I can understand that they want to save their friends, but I still stand by what I think, curing them doesn’t eradicate the Black Robe Plague, so unless they can cure the root of it, they’re sacrificing future lives that can be saved for temporary relief.

SO not surprised that Hugo popped up just to steal the Elixir Seed. Like as if he was nice enough to give them a map to get it lol. Aaand I am disappointed in this “eradication of disease” plan Klaus was planning to do, I knew it was probably too good to be true but it was still disappointing lol. Well, now no one benefits since they lost the seed~ and lol, just because Alfonse thinks Elias doesn’t like him doesn’t mean he wouldn’t come to give his magical power to save the people in the academy, like umm Elias is like the softest guy ever, he wouldn’t do that even if he really didn’t like Alfonse. I’m uh kinda surprised they so conveniently had a spare Elixir Seed because they made one just in case something happened to the first, it kinda detracts from the idea that this thing is super hard to make etc. Also makes me wonder why everyone can’t tell the teachers to tell the government and pressure them into doing something about this disease killing people in a renowned academy with a lot of students that probably come from well off families as well. Then maybe the first seed wouldn’t have ended up like that. Sigh. I don’t want to be picky but I just think there were a lot of options they could have explored first before doing what they did, and of course since it’s a story everything works out in their favour (e.g. those Mikhail cells that Klaus wanted to make with the seed was already made by Alfonse before blah blah), but I feel like if everything really did weigh on curing all diseases etc, then I feel like the heroine and Alfonse were very rash and irresponsible. Klaus wasn’t the only one they could talk to in convincing that they need the seed. Oh well, I’m probably just nitpicky lol, but you can probably tell I don’t like this route at all and find no endearing romance between the two because I feel like the heroine just makes the silly and rash decisions for Alfonse because he can’t make them, and he feels happy that she would do so.

Okay yay, they finally decided to tell the media about how to cure the disease and now they’re practically done curing everyone. Nice that Klaus acknowledged Alfonse again and they all happily go their merry way again lol, except the heroine plans to follow Alfonse from now on~ Anyway, I’m glad it ended lol. I honestly didn’t like the route and thought it was boring and I don’t think it resonated with me. Alfonse’s story was pretty much what you would think it is from what you get in the beginning of the story. He left the family to find cures for diseases and so Klaus is mad and Alfonse himself doesn’t think he has the right to face them. I guess one of the problems I have with it is that Alfonse is always afraid to face his brothers, but he doesn’t regret what he’s done. He feels bad and he feels that what he did was wrong to them and he would probably still do it if he had the choice again, which is perfectly fine, but I guess I was annoyed that he never really did anything about it? Nor do I feel like he ever changed as a person? It felt like, the whole route was just the heroine doing what he felt he couldn’t do and him appreciating that and reaping from her efforts lol. I guess I just feel that he never really stood up for what he did properly to his brothers and showed them how passionate he was about his choice. Everything was shown through the heroine or the existence of those cells, so I always felt that his personality and character was lacking? It never really felt like as a reader that I ever felt close to him. So yeah, not a fan, didn’t help that I did kinda have high expectations of this route too haha, oh well~

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Hope you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Molly Weasley!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

This was such a tough decision for us but your interpretation of Molly won us over! It was clear from the very first part of your application just how much you love her as a character and you gave us such a good look at your vision for her and really brought her to life. Your writing sample also gave us a clear idea of who Molly is and explored so many sides of her as well as giving us a strong idea of her role within the Order and relationships to others around her. We are very excited to have you back and cannot wait to see what journey you choose to take Molly on! *your FC change to Rose Leslie has been accepted!

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Hello, hello! My name is Hope, I prefer she/her pronouns, and I live in the EST time zone!

ACTIVITY

WELL, I’m not in a show for a while, and all in all my class load is light. I believe I’ll be reliably within a 6-7, and I’m excited and thrilled at the prospect of coming back, better than ever!

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

Former player, but before that I learned about this RP from a current member!

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

I’ve always been hard working and ambitious, with a drive to prove myself to people who don’t believe that I can achieve everything I want for my future. Therefore, I’ve always felt like Hermione Granger is the character I’ve related to the most.

ANYTHING ELSE?

That’s all from me, thanks darlings!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Molly Alexandra Weasley (née Prewett)

Alexandra is an ancient name, which became popularized in Europe after the thirteenth Century. It means Defender of Man, a meaning well suited to describe Molly herself.

FACE CLAIM

I prefer Rose Leslie, but Sarah Drew is a lovely alternative. Whichever you prefer!

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I’ve adored Molly as a character since the first time I read the Harry Potter series, and since her first introduction. Molly Weasley saw a boy, alone and confused at King’s Cross Station, helped him find the platform (even though she had her hands full with five children of her own), and made sure he got on the train safely. Molly Weasley couldn’t bear the thought of that little boy waking up on Christmas morning without any presents, and who, despite having her strained time and resources, knit him a jumper like her children, to make him a part of her family. Molly Weasley is the ultimate mother figure, and a guiding hand without whom Harry could not have functioned. In a story with so many orphans, and casualties of war, and so much loss and pain, Molly and Arthur’s beautiful, supportive family, and their unbreakable love for one another, is an extremely inspirational beacon of light in the community.

Molly’s motherly instincts are a driving force within her, and her archetype of The Mother is apparent in all parts of her life. Even Molly’s exceptional aptitude for healing spells show her big heart, and how much of her spirit is dedicated to taking care of others. I see Molly as an old soul, and a romantic. She reads books about true love conquering all, and strong, wise women who, despite incredible odds, overcome their circumstances to build happy lives for themselves and those they love. Molly Weasley is the type of woman who would let a friend stay at her house indefinitely, if they ever needed to get away. Molly Weasley is the type of girl who would see her classmate who came to school without a lunch, and would bring extra, so they could be fed while maintaining their dignity. While Molly is gentle and kind, she is indestructible, and a force of nature to be reckoned with when she’s been angered. Molly would drag herself over broken glass by her fingernails for her family, and is fiercely protective of anyone she takes under her wing. I see Molly as a Mother figure within the Order, looking at these young people and doing her utmost to protect them, to shield what remains of their childhoods. She is especially protective of her younger siblings, Fabian, Gideon, and Alice, whom she has spent a lifetime caring for.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

MOLLY AND ARTHUR WEASLEY ARE MY DARLINGS. I love them so much. In my opinion, Arthur has been Molly’s lifelong love, since they were housemates in school. Their marriage is an example of true love, and hard work, and compassion. Which is not to say there is no conflict, which can be elaborated on within threads!

Molly identifies as female, and it is my belief that she has far too much love in her heart for gender determine her love for someone. She uses She/Her pronouns.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-AN AESTHETIC

(extended associations!)

~ golden sunlight ~ soft music ~ wooden record players ~ cream colored sweaters ~ steam rising from a hot cup of tea ~ lazy good morning kisses ~ wool on bare skin ~ red autumn trees ~ the crunch of leaves underfoot ~ vanilla ~ hugs around the neck ~ hour long conversations ~ earthenware bowls ~ hearty breakfasts ~  fresh cookies ~ spending all day cuddling ~ worn out armchairs ~

-A PLAYLIST (mini time!)

Artholly:

Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur

Dearest by Buddy Holly

Happy Together by The Turtles

Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran

No One Else sung by Denee Benton from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

Molly:

Phenomenal Woman by Olivia Newton-John

-EXPAND ON THE TRAITS

Assertive: (+) Molly is a woman with a good head on her shoulders, and a strong moral compass. As such, when someone disagrees with her, she is able to deliver a competent, logical reasoning for her opinions. Molly is especially firm when her loved ones are involved. Molly will always stand for her family’s best interests, and will always stand up for herself and others when she believes there are injustices being committed.

Passionate: (+) When Molly gives her heart to something, whether it be an occupation, a goal, or a lover, Molly gives it all. She has never been one to let circumstance or hardships keep her from what she wants, and what she imagines for herself. For Molly, if you aren’t being passionate about something, you don’t care about it enough. So, she puts her soul into the things she cares about, like her relationships. She is tenacious, and will do anything for those she loves.

Temperamental: (-) However, Molly’s assertiveness and passion can sometimes result in her becoming very angry when she is hurt, or betrayed. Molly is a very stubborn woman, and when she encounters something that stands in the way of what she wants, or what is in the best interest of her family, she will blow up at it. In relationships, Molly’s temper is always in the best interest of the people she loves. For example, if she believes that someone she loves is doing something dangerous, something she knows they shouldn’t be doing, she will tell them so, and become very angry if they refuse to change. She can be easily provoked into an argument, but she’s never malicious or in search of conflict.

Overprotective: (-) While her motherly instincts are an asset in many ways, it can be one of Molly’s more annoying attributes, especially to her little sister Alice and some of the younger members of the Order. While they are technically adults, and fellow soldiers in this war, she can be sharp with them when she believes they’re being careless, or putting themselves in danger. She’s significantly protective of Alice, whom she has watched grow up from her childhood, and for whom she feels responsible. She can be smothering, trying to prevent someone from doing something because she believes it’s too dangerous for them.

-A FEW HEADCANONS

Boggart: Molly’s boggart is her siblings’ mangled corpses, with Arthur later included. She cannot stand the idea of seeing them dead, and even the thought is enough to bring Molly’s stomach into her mouth and set her in a cold sweat.

Patronus: Molly’s patronus is, appropriately, a bear. Bears are extremely protective of their cubs, and are representative of the overwhelming strength that lies within her.

Wand: Molly’s wand is a flexible 10-inch willow wood wand, with a unicorn hair core. Willow is a tree known for withstanding the toughest storms, due to its ability to bend and sway in wicked winds; it is best suited for those with great aptitude for healing.

 -A FEW POTENTIAL PLOT POINTS

❧ Arthur being injured during a mission, or during a duel against a Death Eater. Plots include her helping nurse Arthur to health, psychological aftermath of the idea of Arthur dying, and being left alone (as a young mother with young children, if they have their kids already), and the resulting paranoia and fear. How she overcomes it, or doesn’t.

❧Molly’s general involvement with the Order, and any missions/jobs she does to help them.

❧Molly meeting/having a conflict with a member of Aversio, because while they, too, wish to defeat Voldemort, she stands completely opposed to their methods.

❧Molly being captured and tortured by death eaters, her panic about not being able to protect her family and her fear that they’ll do something rash to save her

❧MOLLY GETTING PREGNANT (AGAIN) DURING THE WAR. MOLLY AND HER BABIES. MOLLY WEASLEY DEVELOPING SEPARATION ANXIETY BECAUSE EVERY TIME ARTHUR LEAVES OR SHE HAS TO LEAVE THE CHILDREN FOR A MOMENT SHE’S STRICKEN WITH FEAR AND GUILT.

❧Molly dealing with trying to raise young children and give them a normal life despite the threat of death and destruction all around them.

(Really anything, I’m open to any plots that can be thrown at me.)

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

“Oh! That’s a good one. I’d have to say… I’d like to create a way to cast several healing spells at once, just in case of an emergency. I’d hate to ever need to use it, but there have been times, you know–… Where things go awry. But if the situation arose, I think it could be invaluable.

Barring that, a potion to safely help the twins finish teething would be life-changing.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“Oh, well, Arthur of course. I honestly can’t imagine taking anyone else with me! And for an object, I’d say either an invisibility cloak, or what Arthur says the Muggles call a “chainsaw”, in the event we need to get out quickly.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Those where I know the right thing to do, but it may put me or Arthur at risk. I have obligations to the Order—this is a war after all. But I have my children to think about. When I take dangerous missions, I feel immense guilt. When I shy from them, however, I still feel guilt. It’s a double-edged sword.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

“That I failed to do enough to fight while those around me suffered. Or that I wasn’t good enough as a parent. If I ever gave my children a reason to say that about me, I couldn’t live with it.”

WRITING SAMPLE

Molly had learned to live her life with little boxes. Her cupboards and closets were stuffed to the brim with scratched wicker baskets, sturdy heirloom chests made of oak, old garment boxes with mismatched lids, all in an attempt to create the storage space necessary to support her growing family of seven. When there were so many of them in one house, and so much shared property, it was important to sort the few independent belongings the children had into labeled containers. Bill, a stern 8 and ½, and Charlie, an enthusiastic six year old, had had enough territory disputes to drive her mad; Charlie followed his big brother around like a puppy, and so often found himself with Bill’s things in hand, in an attempt to emulate his big brother. Bill, who’d had enough of his toys being smashed by the little one’s indelicate fingers, begged Molly to keep his things away from the toddler. For a long time, she insisted that he try to share, that he just teach Charlie to play nicely with his belongings. After Percy was born, however, Molly found it necessary to start dividing up her children’s things, which evolved into her obsession with keeping things in little boxes.

Boxes were how she kept herself sane. Compartmentalizing. She learned to keep parts of herself bottled up, far away from her children. When she was with the children, when it was family time, she belonged entirely to them. But when it came to matters of the Order, she kept those hidden, and never allowed the two to meet. Even the rooms in her house shared her divided mind. The dining room, for instance, which was a sacred place for her family, was a servant of two masters. By day, it was where she fed and nurtured her children; where Arthur read crisp, new printings of The Daily Prophet, beckoning her over if there was a story he thought she may like; where her and Arthur shed happy tears as their baby twins, now hardly a year old, babbled their first words; where her little Percy, who had learned to walk but much preferred to be carried, would perch happily on her hip while she made dinner for the family; the dining room was where her and Arthur would steal a tender moment alone after the children were abed, dancing slowly to soft music floating from the Muggle gramophone he’d enchanted and set on their windowsill.

By night, however, her dining room was transformed. It would frequently become a war-room for the Order of the Phoenix and its secret soldiers. Plans were made, defenses measured, good witches and wizards brought back, in agony, after violent run-ins with Death Eaters, and she would immediately set to healing their wounds. Blood had been shed in her family’s sacred space, blood which she would later diligently clean in order to keep her children from worrying anything was wrong. When the Order made camp in her home, she tried to separate her tender memories and moments with her family from the fear and panic that had often been felt inside her home. It was the only way she could keep her children safe; but she didn’t know how much longer she could. More and more frequently, now, Bill would creep downstairs, hearing a bump in the night, and she would narrowly scoop him up in her arms before he heard something that would surely make sleep impossible for him.  More and more, he would ask her about the strange friends mummy and dad were having over after they were all asleep, and he was less and less satisfied by her flimsy explanations. It was not his fault: it’s natural for children to be curious. It was hers. She had brought this into her children’s lives. But she would keep it boxed up, and away from them, as long as she could. She just didn’t know how much longer that would be.

[endlessdreamerdragon]

ScaleFell: New Laws and New Scars

Based on an rp in a friend’s server so don’t mind if the prelude doesn’t make sense. 

Scutes: huffed at Rattles before he left, going to the kitchen and leaving the mug on the bench since he didn't want to get in the way. Upon his return to the lounge room, he was taken aback as a bipedal monster practically half-stumbled out of the Scalefell portal. It       resembled monster kid but was taller and had long sharp-looking spikes attachedto bands around its tail, ankles, and wore a black-with-red trim spiked battle helmet on its head. It also had a fairly fresh looking shallow wound on one shoulder that looked like it was made by claws. It looked around wildly, seeming to ignore the others in the room as if looking for someone its eyes widening when it saw Scutes, that seeming to be who it was looking for.

"Kid, what are ya -"

"Sans, you have to hurry! The King has made a new law that all feral-class monsters must be muzzled. It's not just you anymore... a-and they're heading for the barn! A-aura sent me to tell you! Y-you have to hurry!"

Well that explained the claw marks at least if Aura had 'persuaded' Monster Kid to go find Scutes in this other world. Scutes narrowed his eyes and let out a soft snarl, baring all his fangs in rage before storming towards his portal not casting a backwards glance       as he stepped right through. Monster kid looked around at the others briefly with a bit of a perplexed look on his face before following Scutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~            

The second his feet touched the snow on the other side of the portal, Scutes took off dropping onto all fours and sprinting as his soul thudded in his ribcage. He vaguely heard Monster Kid calling out from behind him but paid no attention to it. It didn’t matter. Monster Kid didn’t matter. All that mattered now was him. His brother Papyrus and the sole reason Scutes had so far never gone off the deep end into the land of true savagery that he couldn’t come back. The last incident with that stuck up blood Grillby had been particularly severe and Tar hadn’t been too pleased upon learning not only that he’d been shirking from his sentry duties but that he’d lost. Granted, from the brief time she’d been there she’d understood this blood Grillby named Arakta had quite the powerful set of statistics much like herself but of course she would never let on. Scutes was powerful but not nearly powerful enough. Paps however had been far more understanding and had licked at Scutes’ face till the smaller skeleton had admitted he would try not to do anything so rash and get himself killed like that again.

And now… Scutes shook his head, clearing his thoughts and focusing them on the issue at hand. Asgore’s new law. He was used to ‘normal’ monsters staring at him with concern before he’d gotten his muzzle and even still now he could tell they were wary of him. They were still fearful he’d turn savage and turn them all to dust. He understood that, and although it was annoying he had learned to deal with it. After all he had been known to lash out if someone was particularly intent on picking a fight with him but now they were going to muzzle Paps, his beloved brother who had, despite his feral draconic appearance, never lifted a claw to harm a single soul. He’d never once shown intent to harm anyone which was practically unheard of in this world.

Every single monster he knew of had at least some LV to their name, all except Papyrus. But now they were going to try and muzzle the one innocent soul in all of the Underground. He snarled and increased his speed, fueled by images of a scared and cornered Papyrus crying out for his brother with tears in his eye sockets, his ringed eyelights wide with fear and confusion. His own eye sockets went wide,, snapping out of his thoughts and almost tripped when he realised he could hear noises up ahead. Noises that indicated the images in his head may not be only in his mind. He listened carefully and a chill went through his soul when he heard the unmistakable panicked high-pitched scream of a creature wrought with fear and confusion, calling out for help. Begging for his help. For anyone to help... Scutes felt tears stinging the corner of his eye sockets and he quickly began to close the distance, each time hearing the screams growing louder and driving the icy wedges in his soul even further. At last he drew close, seeing a small group of people near the front of his house as a few members of the Royal Guard that were present made sure they didn’t get too close.

No.. not there.. No…  Another scream. This time almost deafening.

Scutes saw the King and Undyne. Stars above.. Even Tar was there too. Tar was neverthere without good reason. Guards were advancing towards the back of Papyrus’ barn, carrying a large muzzle between them, very similar to the one Scutes wore. Scutes stopped close to the edge of the cliff right before the bridge, watching on in horror and disbelief at what was happening. From here he could see the large skeletal dragon monster scrabbling in the straw and looking around as if someone would help. Someone would stop this. What had he done to deserve this? He hadn’t hurt anyone had he? Surely not! So why would anyone want to put a muzzle on him. Muzzles were for dangerous monsters. Monsters that hurt people. Scutes closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his skull and hearing his brother’s frightened scream once more almost felt like it was tearing his soul in two. He bunched his fists and opened his eye sockets again, rage building. His bro was almost slipping over on his back trying to get away and shutting his eyes in childlike terror as the two guards moved in place ready to slip the muzzle into position, only to pull back as they heard a furious cry from behind them. One half-turned to see a flash of bright green and in an instant one guard was sliced nearly in half, his upper body turning to dust as he dropped his half of the muzzle. The other guard stared in numbed shock at seeing his colleague suddenly become nothing more than a pile of dust in the straw, a choked cry coming from him as he looked down to see those same bright green claws poking through his chest for a second before they were ripped back leaving a gaping hole. Scutes snorted, his eyes burning bright with disgust and rage as he watched the chunk in his claws crumble and fall to the floor to join the rest of the former guard’s remains. He looked over as another guard came running towards him, only to skid onto his backside as a large skull appeared from seemingly out of nowhere and fired a powerful beam of magic. The guard dived to the side, just narrowly avoiding being completely vaporised but was not enough to avoid taking heavy damage.

“Tch… what a stupid waste of time..” Scutes snorted, the skeleton turning his attention to kicking at the dust on the floor. Papyrus whined and gave a sudden cry, drawing his brother’s attention and then catching sight of movement in his peripheral vision. “Pap what is-” He turned to see just as a large white paw came smashing down on his skull. Pain exploded in his head and Scutes saw nothing but white, his skull ringing as he vaguely registered the feeling of being lifted up clear off the ground by his jacket. He could hear distant angry voices and Papyrus whining loudly. More angry voices and he could just barely make out a bit a blurred thing of grey and red. He could feel blood and magic dripping from the ruins of his face, just barely able to keep himself conscious. Of course with his levels he wasn’t about to dust but that hit certainly would have taken off a big chunk of his HP. He felt movement and felt the familiar feel of Tar’s fur against the undamaged side of his face. He could hear more of the angry voices again and vaguely he felt his senses begin their slow return enough to recognise Tar’s voice and what seemed to be Asgore’s as well but couldn’t make out a single word they said. He didn’t care. He couldn’t let anyone muzzle his bro. He wasn’t a savage beast. He was the best damn thing in this whole hellish world. The only thing worth saving.

After a short while, he felt a warmth flowing through the shattered area of his skull around his eye socket and tried to speak but was immediately silenced both by Tar and by the pain that shot through his skull like he’d just been electrocuted. “Shut up you idiot and don’t try to talk. Your brother’s been worried sick and has been pacing and whining since I started healing you.” Scutes’ remaining eyelight glowed brightly but without malice, looking over at his brother and locking eyes glad to see the taller skeleton was as yet still without a muzzle. His attention was drawn back to Tar when he realised she’d finished healing and began to wrap a bandage around his head leaving only an area around his working eye socket free so he could still see. “Now, don’t take this off until I say so.” Scutes went to reply but she growled, “Not unless I say so. Don’t argue.” Scutes sighed and then perked up, feeling something being strapped around his arm just above his wrist-bone on his blinded side. “I’ve also attached a magic-limiting device to ensure you don’t do anything stupid like try to pick a fight with the wrong person. Your magic is currently unstable from the injury so don’t push it.” Tar looked up, hearing a noise and growling when she saw Guardsmen with Asgore again. The rest of the town’s citizens appeared to have left for the night but these ones had come back. Tar growled and narrowed her eyes, “I told you I’d take care of it, Your Highness..” Asgore pointed and four guards moved towards them. Tar frowned and electricity crackled around her clawtips, “Is my word not good enough?” “Aura, I must keep the peace and to avoid monsters turning on each other out of fear more than they already do, ALL feral-class monsters that are not in the Royal Guard must be muzzled.” Scutes jumped up and growled, immediately feeling dizzy “Sit down you idiot” Tar barked, using her electric cables to tug Scutes into a sitting position “You’re still recovering.” She turned her attention to the guards and snapped her fingers as lightning spears shot up from the ground just in front of their feet, forcing them to back up. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I will not allow you or your men to get near Papyrus. He is not a threat and if people have a problem, they can take it up with me. No one comes back here anyway so honestly I don’t know who would even care if he has a muzzle or not..”             Asgore narrowed his eyes and growled in displeasure at once again being defied but he was no fool. Even he knew not to cross Tar, as those that did regretted it for the brief time they were still living. He knew he would have to wait if he were to try and enforce his law here, not wishing to waste what resources he had in the way of soldiers on a suicide mission. The guards waited for their next instructions and with a reluctant sigh, Asgore signalled and they returned to stand behind off to the side of him. “Very well, Aura. But I will come back later. I will see this through. And you’d best keep your charges from doing such foolhardy things again if you don’t want to see them dusted.” Tar narrowed her eyes and looked back at Scutes for a moment with an unreadable expression on her face before turning back to the king. “Understood.” Asgore nodded and with a nod, he and the guards left to head back to the castle. 

Tar sighed and shook her head, waiting until they were gone before she spoke again “Scutes, you know I admire you for standing up for your brother but honestly...  what have I taught you about keeping an eye on your surroundings?! You’re lucky I was there otherwise he would have bashed your skull to pieces like a vase.” Scutes winced “Come..” He got up obediently and followed her inside the house after petting Papyrus and assuring him he’d be okay. He found Tar searching around and grumbling, not even looking up when he came in “When you get back you’re cleaning up your mess. Your shit is everywhere.” Scutes frowned and before he could try to talk, she found the device she was looking for, tapped on the screen a few times and a beep sounded on Scutes’ wrist and then the tablet which she then shoved  in his hands. “Don’t lose it. It’s synchronised to the device on your wrist which in addition to limiting your magic will also allow you to think what you want to say and it will come up on the tablet screen. Now walk.” She pointed to the door, grabbing something else from a drawer and following him outside. She then began to walk back towards the direction of the Ruins, casually tossing a small device into the barn and setting up a barrier to prevent anyone from getting near Papyrus while she was away. Neither Tar nor Scutes said anything on the walk there until they came up to the portal and Scutes grunted, looking at Tar in confusion. She ignored him and instead scooped him up in her arms and walked through without a seconds hesitation..