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five-rivers · 4 years

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Long Night in the Valley chapter 12

The scene shifted the moment Tempest woke up. They were outside, on a street in the middle of the city. Storm clouds circled overhead.

Tempest stood in front of them, hands in her pockets, a bland expression on her face.

“So,” she drawled. “You’re Nine’s friends.”

“Uh,” said Ochako, taken aback. Right after Four had said she wouldn’t talk to them, this was disconcerting. “Yes?”

“I’m his teacher,” said Aizawa, stepping forward.

“Yeah? You think you’re doing a good job raising up little child soldiers?”

“Excuse me?” said Aizawa.

“You heard me.” She shifted her gaze to Ochako, then to Todoroki and Iida. “I bet Souma told you I wouldn’t be talking to you.”

“He did say something along those lines, yes,” said Iida, even as Ochako worked very hard to elbow him.

“I can follow why he’d think that,” Tempest said. “I spent most of my life fighting against the government. Lord knows I wouldn’t have approved of him choosing a ‘pro hero’ to follow after him.” She took her hands out of her pockets to make air quotes. She was wearing brass knuckles. “Whatever a pro hero is supposed to be. Government lackeys. Cops and war criminals with a different name. I’m shocked he pulled a halfway decent person from the muck.”

“We’re not war criminals!” protested Iida.

“Oh, yeah? I forgot, the Geneva convention was nixed, wasn’t it? They had this big meeting and decided none of it applied to metahumans, and then, bam! Everyone’s a metahuman, so it doesn’t apply at all, huh? Neat, right?”

“What we’re doing now might not be what you’re used to,” said Ochako, “but it’s the way society works, now.”

“And we’re not killing people, like you did,” said Iida. Ochako winced at his combative addition.

“I did what I had to, to get people out of the torture camps,” said Tempest. “People like my little sister. You know what they did to her? They thought her power was just controlled by her voice. So, they cut out her vocal cords.”

“They don’t do that anymore,” said Todoroki.

“You think a government like that is just going to stop doing things? Without people making them? Without being forced?” Tempest laughed and looked up at the swirling sky. “Maybe you do. You’re just kids, after all. But tell me this, do you think they didn’t know exactly what was happening to your family, Todoroki Shouto?”

Aizawa cleared his throat. “What’s your point, here?” he asked. “What do you want from us?”

Tempest looked back at Aizawa. The coldness in her brown eyes made Ochako shiver. “We could have kept you out,” she said. “That Suzuki idiot, too. Do you know why we didn’t?”

“Enlighten us,” said Aizawa.

“Because the way we do it would cause irreparable brain damage. We know, because we’ve done it before. I thought it was worth it, but the others didn’t want to hurt ‘Nine’s friends.’”

“Are you implying that we aren’t Midoriya’s friends?” asked Todoroki, frowning.

Tempest huffed and wind whipped down the road, making Ochako cover her face.

“No. To be honest, I’m not completely sold on Nine, either. He wanted to part of the system so bad, and that’s not to mention—” she huffed again. “At least he knows what it’s like to be on the other side of the equation. You four, though… I’m stuck with Nine. I don’t owe you anything and you’re causing all these problems. What I want from you—”

Behind her, lightning snapped down from the sky.

“—is to prove to me you’re worth it.”

“Vlad, the police were able to find your car,” said Powerloader, holding his hand over the receiver of the staff room telephone.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Vlad. “I hate taking public transportation.” He paused. “I mean, uh, did they find Yagi? Is he alright?”

“No, they didn’t find Yagi.”

“Great,” said Vlad. “So, ask them when I can pick it up. Why are you making that face? Did Yagi total it? I bet he did. ‘Symbol of Peace,’ my—”

“No,” interrupted Powerloader. “Yagi didn’t total it. Or crash it. It was parked in an alley near the Musutafu entertainment district.”

“Where Midoriya had that fight with Hawks,” said Vlad, putting his head in his hands. “It got wrecked by one of them, didn’t it?”

“No,” said Powerloader. “It was parked in an alley. They found it on a security camera. It isn’t there anymore.”

“They took it again?”

“The League of Villains took it.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

The bus felt empty with half the class missing. The remaining 1-A students (plus Shinso) were all huddled together at the front, mooching off of the teachers mobile hotspots.

“Did my email go through yet, kero?” asked Tsuyu, leaning over her seat to look at Denki’s computer.

“Not yet,” said Denki. “I’ve got all the pictures you guys sent arranged, but I wish we had more video material. Ashido was the one with the most…” He sighed. “Ashido, gossip queen, when you wake up I will apologize for all my comments about your hobbies.”

“I have some videos of Midoriya.”

“Trust us, Mineta, no one want your videos,” said Yaoyorozu.

“Huh? Why not?”

“Tell us this. How many of your videos are actually of Midoriya and don’t just have him incidentally in the background while you try to film girls.”

“None of them,” said Mineta, obviously not seeing why this was wrong. “Why would I film Midoriya?”

“Mic,” said Midnight, “please remind me to sign up the walking lawsuit for some sensitivity classes. How did Eraser miss this?”

“Unfortunately, Shouta is about as sexual as the average rock, so…”

“Remind me to sign him up for some training, too, then.”

“Will do.”

“Walking lawsuit?” asked Mineta.

Everyone else sighed. Then Denki’s laptop pinged.

“Huh. I just got an email from Principal Nezu.”

The adults, including Green Light, the bus driver, blanched. Adults were bothered by the weirdest things. In the end, Nezu was just a guy with a quirk, right? A hero, even! Principal Nezu, the Education Hero!

Okay, he’d scared Denki (Mr. Terrible Grades) a lot in elementary and middle school, but really.

(Okay, the crane thing at the Final Exam had been high-key terrifying, but he was trying to get past that.)

“Huh,” repeated Denki, having read the email. “That’s interesting.”

“What is it, my electric friend?” asked Aoyama, drapping himself sideways across his seat.

“Aoyama-san,” said Midnight, “don’t put your feet on the windows.”

“Principal Nezu sent me a link to an ‘All Might adopt a kid’ fanfiction, and it’s by—”

“Midoriya writes fanfiction?” asked Shouji, evidently surprised into using his real mouth to speak.

“That’s cute, kero,” said Tsuyu. “It must have been before he met the real All Might, though.”

“No,” said Denki, “it was last updated just a couple of weeks ago, and, well… Midoriya didn’t write it.”

“So, who did?” asked Yaoyorozu.

“Not Nezu, right?” asked Jiro, winding her earphone jack around her finger.

“There’s no way, right, Kaminari-san?” asked Present Mic, nervously.

“Uh, no, no, it’s, uh, it’s All Might. According to Nezu.”

A beat of silence.

“What?”

Denki inserted his pinky into his right ear, trying to clear it. Man, if the Bakusquad had been here rather than the quiet half of the class…

“Yeah, it says here that this serves All Might right for working on this during school hours?”

More silence.

“Green Light, the road!”

“Oops, sorry!”

“Hey, guys, are we sure that All Might didn’t, you know, kidnap Midoriya rather than the other way around? Guys?”

Gran Torino, also known as Torino Sorahiko, was an active hero. That meant late nights and late mornings. He was also an old man. A very old man. Late mornings often turned into noons and afternoons.

Sometimes, during those noons and afternoons, he liked to ignore technology and the outside world for a good long while. Maybe read the paper a little bit. Or one of those terrible romance novels Nana had left him in her will.

Still, he was a hero, one wrapped up in something best described as a two-hundred-year-long shadow war, so eventually he did turn on the news.

Only to see Toshinori’s boy fighting Hawks on live television.

Not to mention Toshinori hanging out in the background with a shaved head.

And the ticker said UA student Midoriya Izuku kidnaps Symbol of Peace.

(Which was the dumbest thing he had ever heard, and under other circumstances, he would have been rolling on the floor laughing.)

Gran Torino was an old man, but, luckily, he only felt like he was simultaneously having a heart attack and a stroke. His body was more than functional enough to place a not-at-all panicked phone call to one Tsukauchi Naomasa.

Tsukauchi Naomasa was incredibly busy. That busy-ness was divided mostly evenly between desperately trying to find his best friend (who had evidently decided to make a hopefully brief foray into kidnapping teenagers) and trying to figure out what the commission was taking, because it had to be illegal. Oh, and putting together a complaint that the commission was infringing on police prerogatives.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how much traction that last would get, since pro heroes had been steadily gaining more and more responsibilities even as the police were losing both them and the power that came with them. Not to mention Midoriya’s stunt with Hawks… Which… Naomasa just wanted to know why? What had the point of that been? On either side?

(Sometimes he wished he were friends with normal people. Like… he didn’t know… an accountant, maybe?)

(Not that he would give Toshinori up for the world. Just, some normalcy would be nice, too.)

He took a deep breath, remembered what he always told Toshinori about stress, and took a mouthful of room-temperature coffee.

In that thirty-second period, two more problems presented themselves to him.

One, his cell phone began to ring, displaying the contact information for Gran Torino.

Two, his email softly pinged, and a message from Principal Nezu asking for any images or videos Toshinori might have sent him slid into his inbox.

Briefly, Naomasa considered ignoring both of them, but that wasn’t a realistic option and was irresponsible besides. Contrary to his character.

He picked the lesser of two evils and answered Gran Torino’s call.

Garaki was going to have a mental breakdown. This was fitting because his car had broken down. Midoriya Inko was asking him if he thought that his ‘friend’ might come pick them up, if it was safe. If his ‘friend’ had a car.

This last had almost sent him into hysterics. Gigantomachia in a car oh-ho!

Except it wasn’t funny at all, as this was almost certainly going to result in his death at the hands of All for One. No matter that he considered the man his very dearest of friends, he was under no illusions about what All for One would do to him over this inexcusable error.

Perhaps he should just cut his losses and get one of the remote-activated noumu to come for them.

Then, inexorably and inevitably, things managed to get even worse.

“Stop the car!” shouted Tomura.

“But you said not to—”

“I know what I said! Stop the car!”

Tomura twisted to see out the rear passenger window. Everyone else turned to follow his gaze, effectively blocking his view.

“Get out of my way!” demanded Tomura.

There was some awkward, half-hearted shuffling.

“Does that look like anyone to you?” Tomura hissed.

“Yeah! Like the doctor!” said Toga.

“I’ve never seen him standing up, though,” said Spinner, dubiously. “It seems out of character.”

“I didn’t know he owned a car,” mused Compress, rubbing the bottom edge of his mask.

“Not him!” snapped Tomura. “The woman!” He pointed angrily at the rapidly approaching woman with green hair, narrowly avoiding dusting Mr. Compress’s top hat.

“Eh? What about her?” asked Spinner.

“Doesn’t she look familiar to you?”

“To be honest, everyone without mutation quirks looks kind of the same to me.”

“Someone without face blindness.”

“Oh! She looks like Izu-kun! Do you think that’s his mom?”

The woman knocked on the window of the car. Twice, unhelpfully rolled it down.

“Thank you so much for stopping, we—Oh!” She took a step back.

She apparently recognized them. Joy. He was going to unpack his feelings about this woman later.

“Hey, doc,” rasped Tomura, annoyed. “What the hell have you been doing?”

“Ahem,” said Garaki, finally stepping out from behind the car. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“Because you blew us off and stranded us in the middle of Musutafu?”

“No,” said Garaki, in a way that absolutely meant ‘yes.’ “I knew you were resourceful enough to safely make it out of the city.”

“Oh, yeah? Really? You—”

Compress chose that moment to slam his face into the back of Tomura’s head. Tomura steadied himself automatically on one of the car’s uprights, which cracked dangerously under his hand. He pulled back as if burned.

When he looked up, the gremlin’s mother was halfway to the tree line with – What was that in her hand?

He looked back over his shoulder.

That was Twice’s goddamn mask.

Compress, for some reason, was also missing his stupid mask (and covering his face like the dramatic weirdo he was), and Toga basically had hearts in her eyes. Spinner was being Spinner, and therefore ninety percent useless. He was lucky he was fun to play games with.

How to make her stop?

“Hey!” he shouted. “We have your son!”

This was a lie, as far as he knew (unless Dabi had snatched him on his way back; it wasn’t impossible), but, he was a villain.

The green-haired woman stopped and turned back, allowing Tomura a full view of her expression.

He decided that he regretted everything.

“Okay,” said Izuku, multitasking by letting Two pick the lock on the League’s safe, “considering Gigantomachia’s ability to track by smell and the questionable running water, we can’t just sneak out. He’ll find us. So… I think our best play is getting him to attack Shigaraki, and then when they’re both distracted, we run for it.”

Toshinori nodded and sighed. “If only we had a giant jug of perfume. We could throw it at his face and disrupt his ability to smell us.”

“I mean, I found a whole bunch of garbage a way back. That isn’t perfume, but it does stink.”

“No, no, your plan is superior. We’d draw too much suspicion if we attacked him like that. Perfume could be written off.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Because perfume is a ‘nice’ thing.”

“Indeed.”

“It isn’t actually very nice to have it all over you, though,” said Izuku.

“No,” agreed Toshinori. “It isn’t.”

The safe popped open.

“I won’t ask if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

“But, anyway, assuming we do get away, what then? Where do we go? And—Wow. The League of Villains is broke. I almost feel bad.”

“I was going to say Deika, but that’s too far, now, and we don’t know if Gigantomachia will come after us,” said Toshinori. “Drawing him to a place full of civilians would be irresponsible.”

“Yeah,” said Izuku. He frowned, pulling his head from the safe, and glanced out the window. “What about the Wild Wild Pussycats?”

“What about them?” asked Toshinori.

“They’re near here, aren’t they? And they’ve got that whole complex, so, I mean… I don’t know how they feel about us right now, but it wouldn’t be a terrible place to hide. Would it?”

“I’d hate to bring all of this down on them as well,” said Toshinori. “But… That being said, I don’t believe they’re actually there. They were taking some time off because of what happened to Ragdoll.”

“That makes sense,” said Izuku. “Should we take the risk?”

“I’m unsure if we have a choice, my boy. We could try roughing it, but that puts us in a very vulnerable position.”

“And we can’t stay here, with the League.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Okay.” Izuku sighed and started to thumb through the League’s collection of fake IDs, looking for something he could use. “Wild Wild Pussycats it is. We’ve got to convince Machia to attack Shigaraki, and… then we sneak out the back while they’re fighting.” He shook his head. “It sounds really unheroic when I put it that way.”

“Under these circumstances, I think heroic is the set of actions where no one dies.”

His mentor was right. Izuku still felt weird about this, though. (The pettiness was completely different.)

Not to mention…

He put the last of the fake IDs away and massaged his temples. “They’re doing something weird in there,” he said. “I’m going to check on them. I might be out of it.”

“Don’t worry,” said Toshinori, patting Izuku on the shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on things out here.”

(Perhaps all of this could have gone unsaid, what with their connection, but saying things out loud made them easier to organize.)

“Hey!” shouted Izuku over the roaring wind. “Stop that!”

“Are you going to fight me, Nine? All by yourself?”

“No,” said Izuku, somehow contriving to look down his nose at her despite the height difference and the fact that Tempest was floating several meters in the air. “I won’t have to. Because I have a secret weapon.”

Ochako could almost see Tempest roll her eyes.

“And,” shouted Izuku, “do you seriously think I just wanted to be part of the system? Are you serious? I wanted to help people. People the system failed. It isn’t like they’re responsible for the system either!” He waved his hand to indicate Ochako, Iida, Todoroki, and Aizawa.

“I’d argue about your hobo teacher. Is this your secret weapon?”

“No, this is, Great-Aunt Miranda.”

Tempest opened her mouth, then closed it again. The wind began to die down. “I’m – I don’t know what the point of that was—"

“Neither do I! What’s the point of this?”

“The point is determining whether or not you have people you can rely on, or a bunch of backstabbers who’ll hand you over to a government lab as soon as it’s convenient!” She stabbed a finger at Ochako. “She’s just in ‘heroics’ for the money!” She pointed at Iida. “He’s only here because it’s traditional for his family.” She gestured at Todoroki with her other hand. “He’s doing it mostly out of spite. And who knows what your hobo teacher is doing this for!”

“There’s nothing wrong with any of that!” protested Ochako. “You must have your own motivations, too!”

“She does!” shouted Izuku. “Considering what they are, you have no room to be criticizing Iida! Besides, you don’t even like me!”

“This isn’t about liking you or disliking! You’re the—” Tempest visibly cut herself off, then took a deep breath. She set herself down on the street. “Knowing what we do now about certain things, a fourteen-year-old would not have been my first choice.”

“Excuse me! We’re all sixteen!” said Iida.

“You’re sixteen now, it’s – The fact of the matter is that you’re children. Naïve children.”

“Oh my gosh, you were younger than I was when you—”

“I was kidnapped and tortured—”

“I know, but why are you taking it out on—”

“By the government that you are trying to lick the boot of—”

“Did you see what they did to Suzuki?”

Ochako felt like she was spectating a very passionate tennis match.

“If it means anything,” said Aizawa, dragging himself out of the pile of rubble he’d been thrown into by the wind, “I’m just trying to keep my kids alive as long as possible.”

“Then expel them! Stop them from becoming literal child soldiers!”

“I do,” said Aizawa.

“He does,” confirmed Ochako, who was well acquainted with Aizawa’s reputation.

“He really does,” seconded Todoroki.

“I used to see Tensei’s group chat, and every time he expelled someone…” Iida shivered.

“Huh,” said Todoroki. “Is that why you’re so… insistent about rules?”

“Of course not! Rules are important regardless of why so many students were expelled during the first month of school!”

“So, why didn’t you expel these ones?”

“If you honestly believe the problem child wouldn’t have flung himself at the first villain he saw after that and dove straight into vigilantism, you don’t know him very well.” He sighed, standing, and brushed dust and pebbles out of his tracksuit. “That goes for these three as well. They’re insane and it’s not my fault.”

“Isn’t saving others what heroes do?” asked Izuku, walking closer to Tempest. Ochako wanted to run out and grab him, but this whole ordeal had just shown how useless that would be. “No matter what?”

“Not no matter what. This is why I…” She shook her head, sighing. “Not no matter what.” She leaned forward, her hands on her hips. “Don’t die. You do realize what will happen if you die, right? I don’t have to spell it out for you?”

“N-no,” said Izuku.

“Besides which, I’m not a hero.”

“You saved people,” protested Izuku.

“And, as your friends pointed out, I’ve killed, too.”

“I know,” said Izuku. “But you aren’t a bad person.”

“Lots of people kill during wars,” said Ochako, going to stand by Izuku, “and that’s what you were fighting in, wasn’t it? I mean, I don’t know a lot about that time, but…”

“You wouldn’t. It’s been over a hundred years.”

Izuku nodded. “This fight isn’t doing anything, though. None of us want them here if the vault opens.”

“The what?” asked Iida. “The vault.”

“Hopefully,” said Izuku, “you won’t have to worry about it.”

“The fight did do something, though,” said Tempest.

“What?” asked Izuku.

“For one,” said Tempest, “it made you think. For the other…” Her eyes flicked over Ochako and the others. “Everyone you fight will have their own reasons. Remember that.”

As they walked down the street, storms still brewing overhead, Ochako kept catching glimpses of children in the alleyways and cross streets.

“Who are they?” she asked, unable to help herself.

“My sister and I,” answered Tempest, brusquely. Ochako, watching the back of the woman’s head, saw her twitch slightly towards one of the alleys. “About the time we were taken.”

“Taken by who?” asked Todoroki.

Tempest laughed. The sound was entirely humorless. “That government you’re so eager to serve. You’ve noticed, I hope, that my sister and I aren’t completely Japanese?”

“Yes?” said Todoroki. “I’m not blind, after all.”

“Todoroki,” said Aizawa in a warning tone.

“Good for you. Our mother was Japanese. Dad was American. We went back and forth to see the family. Problem was, everyone on Mom’s side quirks. We didn’t even realize it. The government tracked the weather disturbances to our movements and raided our family reunion. Never saw my parents again. Never saw anyone, for that matter, except my sister and my aunt – Dad’s side – who tried to smuggle us out and got shot for it. We spent four years in that hell before Ryuji rescued us.”

“You’re more open about this than I would have expected,” said Aizawa.

Tempest sneered. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m a terrorist, and people only become terrorists if they want to make a statement. Which I did. Trust me when I say this, Nine, if the hero commission took you into ‘custody,’” she spat the word like it was dirty, “you’d be in the same boat. What do you children think they do to all those high-profile criminals in Tartarus? The ones that are held indefinitely in a private prison without even a show trial?”

“I know, Three,” said Izuku, far more calmly that Ochako would have been able to. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to be a hero. It’s easier to change systems from the inside.”

“Not this system.”

“No,” said Izuku, “but then I had no idea this part of the system even existed. They do a lot to hide it, after all.”

“Hm,” grunted Tempest, skeptically.

The buildings began to thin out, interspersed with wilderness. The road rapidly graded narrowed into a one-lane road, then gravel.

“Is this normal?” asked Ochako.

“We have more control over our environments than the other ones. You’ve noticed that only Eight and Nine had multiple versions of themselves running around and being confusing.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose,” said Izuku.

“Exactly. Any of us could send an army of ourselves against you. Only those two don’t have a choice about it. Amateurs.”

“Shouldn’t they have had the same amount of time as—” started Ochako. She broke off as a series of concrete walls topped with barbed wire rose up in front of them, scraping at the surrounding trees, shedding clumps of dirt.

The trees fell away, leaving a clear, baren space between the walls and the trees. Slightly beyond the structure moonlight glinted off the surface of a lake.

“Well. Welcome to Jinoshi Lake Camp, kids.” Tempest turned, putting her hands on her hips. “This is where I met Ryuji. And…” She glanced up at the walls. “This is as far as I go.”

“You aren’t going to show us where to find this ‘Ryuji?’” asked Aizawa.

“I promised myself I’d never go back there.” She jerked her head over her shoulder. “I’m not revisiting it for you.” She started walking away. “Have fun.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #my fic #long night in the valley

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kitkat1003 · 4 years

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Everything is Blue

Chapter 1: His pills, his hands, his jeans

MK just wants everyone in his life to be safe and happy, to never leave him. He'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

And, luckily for him, the voice in his head has the perfect plan to make that happen.

(Or, the author contemplates how slow the possession was for DBK in episode 10 and considers how MK would fall)

Ao3 link

This is a 13k monolith of a first chapter, but I'm very proud of how it turned out! I threw it together in 4 days with the help of my beta reader @imnotcameraready on tumblr, famous for the Chivalry is Dead sanders sides au. Give it a read, it's on Ao3 and tumbr! It even has a sequel! Seriously, she’s a great writer and edited this thing in like 2-3 hrs after I threw it at her. A godsend.

Anyway, happy reading!

When MK knocks the canisters off of DBK’s back, he thinks that’s the end of it. He wasn’t exactly given the rundown on how the cannisters worked, nor does he know why whatever was in them caused DBK to go crazy, but at the very least he only had to fight the one guy instead of the entire family. It was weird to fight with Red Son and Princess Iron Fan (shouldn't she be Queen, at this point? She's married to Demon Bull King, after all. Do they not have the paperwork?) but not unwelcome. He wishes they could be on the same side all of the time.

Because he was raised on stories of Monkey King’s adventures, which frequently discuss the Demon Bull Family, and he’s always thought they were interesting in those stories. He thinks Princess Iron Fan is super cool, even though she’s scary and actively wants him dead. Red Son is...well, he wasn’t what MK expected, but that isn’t exactly a bad thing. If anything, MK thought he’d be older. He doesn’t understand how demon aging works.

Tangents aside, he watches them disappear in a gust of wind and groans, flopping forward as he bemoans the fact that they left again, when he’d just beat them. Well, he hadn’t actually fought all three of them, this time. DBK had fought more people than he had.

He jumps as the cave begins to crumble from all the damage that it took from the fight, scrambling to find a way out, when—

A New Vessel?

A voice curls into his ear, a soft whisper.

Young. Powerful. Weak. Freedom.

He looks down, and he sees a white light sink into his skin. Cold seeps into his every pore, bone, and nerve, his muscles tensing as the temperature drops. His teeth chatter, and when he lets out a startled breath he sees white air drift in front of his face. The warmth of his powers—his Monkey King powers—is smothered, and soon all MK feels is the cold that keeps him in place, rooting him to the spot. It’s a miracle he’s even standing.

What is this?

What’s happening?

His eyes dart to the cannisters. The empty canisters. There was something in there, earlier, right? Where did it go?

Is this? Wher e it w e n t?

Wha t i s . . . ?

It’s hard to think. His thoughts are newly cracked ice upon a lake, pieces crashing slowly against each other and fracturing further, splintering into nothingness.

New Vessel. Rest.

His eyes slide shut, out of his control, as his consciousness, like everything else, is smothered by the chill.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up on the shoulder of the Monkey Mech, as the last rays of sun are streaking across the steadily darkening sky, like a lighthouse beam against the dark sea. He sits up, staring far into the horizon, as confusion pulls him out of the just woken up daze. How did he get here?

“MK?” He jumps, startled, and turns to realize that Mei is right next to him, a concerned smile on her face. He stares at her, trying to figure out why she’s here, how she got here. Then again, he doesn’t even know how he got here. He feels dizzy just trying to remember.

“You alright, kid?” Pigsy’s voice comes from his other side, and he forces himself not to jump, turning to look at his boss. Tang and Sandy are there too, and Sandy waves while Tang smiles in greeting mid slurp, bowl of noodles in hand.

“What happened?” he’s missing time. He defeated DBK, and then...then nothing. There’s a feeling of coldness, at the thought, but the memories don’t come.

“I found you on the ground after the Bull Clones all sort of fell apart. I figured you passed out after trouncing DBK, so I picked you up and got you out of there.” Mei doesn’t seem concerned, but MK is, just a little. He’s never passed out after using his powers; rather, using them often results in him getting an energy boost. He thinks back on it, trying to remember any time this has happened before. Macaque comes to mind but even then he wasn’t tired once his powers returned.

His ruminating on the ordeal is cut off by a bowl of noodles being shoved unceremoniously into his hands. He blinks down at it, and then turns to Pigsy

“Here, kid. Eat. You look pale, and skinny as ever. Can’t have my employee lookin’ half starved.” He smiles at Pigsy’s attempt to hide his soft side, picking up his chopsticks with a grin.

He eats, and the loud conversations of what they’d just accomplished arrests MK’s attention so that the questions about DBK, the cannisters, the voice that he swears he can hear in the back of his mind, fall away like sand in an hourglass, time never able to be reclaimed.

The sun finally vanishes and stars dot the sky like sequins on a gown. MK curls in on himself, hunched over the bowl a little, missing the sun's rays and the finished soup’s warmth.

He shivers, but there’s no breeze.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bonus of living in such a technologically advanced age is that city reconstruction is pretty fast. Hospitals are rebuilt first, people are brought in en masse. MK spends his time volunteering there, because noodle shops are low on the list of things to be rebuilt and he needs to be useful.

MK tries not to be too guilty about the wreckage, though most of it had occurred because he was late to stop DBK. He'd been kept at Flower Fruit Mountain for a few weeks because Monkey King was worried after the incident with Macaque. Wanted to be sure MK's training ethic wasn't too messed up, wanted to be certain Macaque hadn't left any lasting effects or impressions.

It was a punishment, MK knows, for being a two timing student and for making Monkey King have to deal with a demon enemy when he’s made it clear that he’s retired. Doesn't matter that they only ever trained in the morning and early afternoon, then spent the rest of the day hanging out. MK has watched Monkey King: The Animated Series fifty-three times now, most recently with Monkey King during the duration of his solitary confinement at Flower Fruit Mountain. They'd both piped up with commentary, MK about the production and animation, and Monkey King about the inaccuracies that MK filed away for his sketchbook.

But even so, it was a punishment for MK’s failings. Why else would Monkey King keep MK close, keep him away from his family and friends, keep MK away from the outside world?

It takes two and a half weeks after the battle with DBK for MK to go back to work delivering noodles. He'll sometimes buy extra and drop it off at a random hospital nearby, for the medical staff. They're overworked because of him, because he was away for so long.

He has to be better next time. He doesn't know when DBK will be back, doesn’t know how to sense him. Is he able to do that? Can he learn to sense when his enemies are nearby? That would solve a lot of problems, near rid him of worry. Maybe Monkey King knows?

That thought has him swinging by Flower Fruit Mountain on the weekend, with a promise to Pigsy to be home before midnight. MK is an adult only by age, after all; Pigsy still treats him like the 16 year old he found half dead outside his shop.

When he steps onto the mountain’s sand, though, he feels unwelcome.

The mystic energy that had beckoned him in the first time he’d arrived has shut its doors, like a silent way of saying

Leave.

Not a single monkey comes to greet him, but he can see their eyes, hidden in the trees. They regard him with suspicion. He frowns at them in confusion.

He hears a hiss in the back of his head and winces at the ensuing headache, stepping forward in hopes of pushing past the pain. Every step he takes makes the pounding in his head louder and more painful, and MK closes his eyes and focuses, reaching for the well of power he knows he has, the power that makes the staff feel lighter than air.

It’s like sticking his hand through a well of ice, and his wrist is paralyzed by the time his fingers brush that warmth, the light curling around his palm. Gold sparkles in his vision, and the unwelcome air starts to recede, as if the island recognizes him again. He heads in deeper, and lets out a breath as the headache ceases.

He doesn’t have to head in too deep, because Monkey King comes through the waterfall in a rare moment of MK’s mentor leaving the inner sanctum of the mountain. The waterfall itself moves like a curtain out of Monkey King’s way and the sight has MK focusing on that rather than the expression on Monkey King’s face, until he looks up.

Monkey King’s eyes are sharp, darting around, an expression MK only recognizes from the suspicion and distrust Monkey King gave Macaque. MK fidgets beneath that gaze, though it isn’t directed at him, uncomfortable. He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he? He wracks his brain for any new missteps, but finds very little. Still, his anxiety skyrockets by the second.

The look vanishes, though not completely, when Monkey King’s eyes catch on the sight of MK.

“Hey bud! Impromptu visit?” Monkey King greets.

MK tries not to shy away from the air of suspicion that colors Monkey King’s tone. Is MK really that untrustworthy? He did mess up badly by trusting Macaque, and Monkey King is right to distrust him. He bites his lip and tries to ignore the swell of guilt that sets like a stone in his stomach at the memory.

“Yeah, just-uh-just wanted to train, y’know? Don’t know when DBK is coming back.” He shrugs, and Monkey King nods, only half listening.

He still looks on edge. “Cool. You uh...you bring anyone with you?”

Now that’s concerning. MK scrambles to find a supposed intruder, hands gripping his staff tight in preparation for battle. “No? Unless-Oh no, is there someone here? Is it a demon guy?” What if he led a bad guy here? What if he messed up again?

He jumps as a monkey lands on his head, picking through MK’s hair in typical grooming fashion, and then Monkey King laughs, loud and almost relieved. MK turns back around to face him.

“Nah, must be my nerves. Maybe DBK left something on you, messed with my senses.” Monkey King waves a hand, nonchalant, and MK perks up in ease at the reminder.

“Oh! That’s actually why I’m here!” He takes careful steps forward, trying not to jostle the monkey on his head. “I was thinking-I didn’t know DBK was in the city and destroying stuff, and a lot of people got hurt. But! If I could sense him, like you can, I could stop him quicker! Right?” He’s bouncing on his toes, nervous and excited all at once, and Monkey King smiles down at him fondly.

“Sure, why not? If you’re up for some meditation, that is,” Monkey King turns, waving at MK to follow.

The monkey on MK’s head hops away, and MK sprints after his mentor with a wide grin. “Totally! I’m, like, the best at meditation. I’m like a meditation wizard!”

Monkey King laughs all the way to the training grounds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Training actually is easier than he expects. MK blusters a lot, but he isn’t dumb or unaware of his limits. Sitting still isn’t his strong suit, so sitting still while not being able to talk, tap, fidget, or do anything else other than think is basically torture.

But, when he gets into the meditative position with Monkey King, something clicks. A cool blanket settles on his shoulders, eases out the desire to move. It’s so easy to be still, and quiet.

Frozen.

“You weren’t kidding,” Monkey King tells him, and MK grins a little, face warmed by the praise. “Now, when you’re like this, you have to let every other sound and feeling fade out. Nothing else matters but the energies around you. Mine’s pretty easy to see cause, yknow,”

MK can practically see Monkey King scratching his chin and grinning with barely hidden pride. “I’m a pretty powerful guy. DBK would be similar, he’s got a pretty loud aura too. Now, just try it, kay?”

MK nods, and takes a deep breath. The sounds around him-bugs, monkeys jumping around and talking to one another, the wind, the ever present sound of something in his head—those all start to fade away.

Wait, what was that last one?

He lets them all go, and then forgets the feeling of the cold, the grass, the fabric touching his skin. Nothing exists except his own mind, and then.

He gets to see the bright light that is Monkey King. Golden and red and royal in its feel, it’s near blinding. He has to blink a few times to get used to its light.

“Woah,” he murmurs, and Monkey King opens one eye, before blinking both in surprise.

“Woah, already? You sure you haven’t done this before?” Monkey King crosses his arms over his chest, almost offended, and MK is reminded of how betrayed Monkey King looked when MK had shown off the skills he’d learned from Macaque.

“Nope! Maybe defeating DBK gave me a confidence boost?” He shrugs, and then stands, looking around. Monkey King’s expression sits in the back of his mind, and MK bites his lip. “Did I, uh, did I do something wrong? I didn’t…,” he trials off, worried.

“Maybe,” Monkey King mumbles in response to his first reply, mostly to himself. “Oh-no, no, you’re fine, bud. I think I’m just a little paranoid,” he laughs it off. MK is too busy glancing back towards town to process Monkey King’s pensive expression.

“I can see Mei! She’s...very green. Did she always have a dragon?” It’s curled around her, like a protective barrier, snarling and poised to strike.

Monkey King chuckles. “You’ve got yourself some powerful friends, kid. Not surprising. Like knows like, even when they don’t know what like is.” He puts a hand on MK’s shoulder, and then starts. “You’re freezing. It’s not that cold, is it?”

MK blinks a few times, and everything comes back, the colors and sounds and feelings of the world returning to normal. Monkey King keeps looking at him, as if MK is a puzzle he’s yet to solve.

“I don’t know, maybe? I’ve been feeling a bit chilly, lately. Maybe I’m coming down with something?” He’s been a bit stressed out, between Macaque and DBK and the reconstruction, and he’s heard stress can cause illnesses.

Monkey King sighs, after a moment, and scratches his head.

“I think I’m becoming an adult,” he says, like it’s a crime, and he shrugs again. “You’re probably fine. Just, take it easy the next few days, alright? Practice meditating at home, or when you’re on the job. When you’re as good as me, you can turn it on whenever you need to,” Monkey King puffs up with pride, and his tail swings back and forth leisurely. MK watches his tail more than he listens to what Monkey King is saying.

“Okay. Anything else for today?” It’s only been an hour or two, they have plenty of time.

Monkey King deliberates. Then, he grins, stepping back to position for MK’s inevitable first attack. “Tell you what. We’ll spar for a bit, and then you can bring up that new show you kept ranting about a few weeks ago. Kay?”

MK’s eyes sparkle.

“Heck yeah!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK’s muscles aren’t sore when he gets home. He actually lasted a couple minutes sparring this time around, and Monkey King had rewarded him with peach chips and an arm around MK’s shoulder as he eagerly pulled up the show he had dove into during his free time on the TV.

Pigsy sent him upstairs with a bowl of noodles and a stern reminder to sleep early so he wouldn’t be late for work. He finishes the noodles in record time and, once he has showered and put on his warmest pajamas, pulls out all of the blankets he can find. He just wants to be warm, just a little, even though it doesn’t make sense that he’s feeling this cold. He’s not tired, he doesn’t feel achy, his sinuses are clogged—none of the other symptoms of being sick are popping up, so why is he so cold?!

He’s practically buried in blankets by the time he feels comfortable enough to rest. For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t dream.

Things go back to normal, somewhat. There’s a niggling something in the back of his head, and there’s guilt and the ever present chill that has MK wearing long sleeved shirts, but otherwise MK falls back into his typical routine, which is nice. He missed his friends, between Macaque and DBK and training. It’s good to see them again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time he starts hearing the voice in his head, he’s getting yelled at by Pigsy.

It doesn’t happen as often, anymore. MK is scatterbrained, but he genuinely tries to do his best at work. Sometimes, he gets mixed up, because he’s only one kid and he’s never been good at focusing, no matter how hard he tries. It’s hard for his stressed out and ADHD ridden brain to remember whose order is whose, especially when it’s the dinner rush and he’s running behind.

Today was a particularly bad day. He’d accidentally given a customer an order with peanut oil in it, when they had an order specifically without peanuts due to their severe allergy. Pigsy had gotten a very angry phone call, and he passed that rage at MK, rightfully so.

MK can only apologize so much, so eventually he quiets and lets Pigsy let off steam. Luckily the customer hadn’t tried to sue, but MK knows the review Pigsy likely got was scathing. He deserves a bit of a tongue lashing for that, he thinks.

It was an honest mistake. Cruel, to yell at one so young. Why is he so mean?

The voice in the back of his head, new and different, nearly makes MK jump. Pigsy notices the change in MK’s expression and mistakes it for fear, and that gets him to quiet down. He dismisses MK with a sigh and a wave of his hand, and MK heads upstairs, feeling guilty and confused.

That voice….it didn’t sound like him, did it? When he tries to recall the sound, it mirrors his internal voice, but in the moment it seemed different.

It’s probably nothing. After all, if something was wrong with him, wouldn’t someone else have noticed by now? Wouldn’t he have noticed by now?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The voice keeps popping up at random intervals, random moments. When Mei gets annoyed at his ramblings. When Tang pushes him away when he’s begging for a story, because Tang is busy eating. When Pigsy yells at him for being late for work, for messing up. When Sandy awkwardly pushes him to leave because MK can’t take a hint, some days. When Monkey King looks at him with something akin to disappointment, exasperation.

They’re tired of you. They want you gone. They’re plotting against you. They’re going to betray you!

And, see, that would bother MK if he didn’t already know that. He knows people don’t like him, find him annoying. He knows he pushes too much, messes up a lot, misses social cues. He knows that he’s not a good enough successor. And that just makes him want to do better.

As for the whole betrayal thing, plotting against him, it makes sense. He isn’t offended or anything if they are, in fact he’d be more surprised if they weren’t, you know? He’s the Monkey King’s successor. He has all of the powers, has all of the strength and invincibility, with a caveat or two, but he’s also still just a teenager. If they aren’t worried that he could go rogue, mess up and decide to be selfish, then that’s stupidity on their part. Trusting him with anything is never a good idea, so knowing that, should he mess up, his family will be able to enact swift justice is a comfort rather than a worry.

And yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing, knowing just how annoying and useless he can be. He flinches more often at their glares, gets quieter. He doesn’t want to make them mad at him, he doesn’t want to lose them because he isn’t good enough. He just needs to focus, be better, help out more often. If he does that, hopefully they won’t leave.

The voice, after a few months or so, had backed off for a week. He’d felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and smiling was easier. Pigsy had seemingly relaxed at his good mood, and Mei seemed cheerier when they’d gone out to the arcades. He hadn’t realized he’d been worrying them.

Are you so sure they’ll stay?

A single phrase that pulls the rug out beneath MK’s feet. He knows he isn’t good enough, but everyone knows that he at least tries, right? That should endear them to him enough for him to prove he’s worth their time, right? He can be good enough, he can do better, he just needs time!

Not fast enough. They’ll get tired of you, and then they’ll leave.

The cold feeling in his chest feels so much heavier, as he panics in his room. He’s supposed to be asleep, but the blankets don’t do much anymore. He’s losing feeling in his fingers. He keeps fumbling with things, even the staff, and everyone is getting annoyed at him. And he’s so tired, all the time, and yet it’s so hard to sleep. He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, but he knows that whatever it is, it’s going to ruin the equilibrium he has between being a failure and being good enough to keep around.

What happens when he loses it all?

You can be better.

Can he?

Wouldn’t everyone love you if they were safe?

Well, he can imagine not having to worry about DBK would make them far less stressed out. If he can do that, then maybe they won’t get so easily annoyed at him. He knows stress can make people snappy, and there’s a lot to be stressed about, like the economy and death by demons.

You can make them safe.

How?

Listen to me.

And MK knows it’s weird to make a pact with your own mind, but he thinks he’s pretty good at following directions, so he nods, and doesn’t sleep at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The plan isn’t an easy one, and MK doesn’t know if he really wants to follow it. The words turn over and over in his head. He doesn’t know if they’re right or not.

Maybe it would be better, if he wasn’t so nice. He beats the bad guys, sure, but he isn’t that violent with them. They try to kill him, but it’s never personal. He’s the successor to Monkey King, it just makes sense that they’d go after him. He’s not upset, really!

Even though the calabash has him looking over his shoulder. They have earthquakes a lot, they live near a ring of active volcanoes, and each one puts him on edge, expecting a lie to turn his whole world apart. And the spider lady tried to eat his friends, tried to kill him. And Macaque nearly hurt Monkey King because MK let him get close. And DBK and Princess Iron Fan won’t stop, not until they get revenge or something.

Red Son is...he’s MK’s age. And MK has noticed just how much DBK and Princess Iron Fan belittle Red Son, and he’s their son. It’s too familiar for MK’s liking, and it makes the desire to bring Red Son to justice lessen. Maybe, if he got Red Son’s parents out of the way…

You could have anything you wanted.

All MK wants is for his friends and family to be happy.

This is how you’ll do it.

MK doesn’t give in. Not yet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK considers it when he goes over to see Sandy, one afternoon. They’re just doing some leisurely painting practice, nothing like painting the whole boat. After the whole clones thing, Sandy had learned that he should probably figure out which color he wants to stick with in the long run before asking for help in such a task. So, he asks MK to come over and brainstorm. You know, sketch out some ideas, test paint samples on different areas of the boat, see how it looks in light and dark.

MK also helps with the many litter boxes around the ship, as well as top up the water and food bowls all around. He gets appreciative nuzzles from the myriad cats around the barge, so it isn’t so bad. Then, he and Sandy will have tea, and Sandy will listen to MK ramble on about anything and everything until either Monkey King or Pigsy or Mei calls him to go do something (he gave Monkey King his number. Occasionally he will get an incomprehensible text. He’s pretty sure Monkey King has a Nokia phone).

Today, when they’re having tea, MK considers.

“Hey, Sandy?” He starts, more hesitant than when he’s ever asked the man a question before.

Sandy notices, and MK sees him soften his pose even more, looking warm and welcoming. “Yeah, MK?”

“Do you think I’m too soft on villains?”

Because he beats them, but he always lets them leave, lets them escape. They get to heal, recoup, and come back stronger every time, and people get hurt. MK doesn’t want to be the type to attack first, to never ask questions, but at this point there aren’t too many questions to ask.

“You’ve got a good heart, MK. You don’t have it in ya to go at ‘em too hard,” MK clenches his fist, his other hand gentle against the teacup lest he break it. He did that a few times when he first got his powers, unused to the extra strength.

“That kinda doesn’t answer my question,” MK tries not to say it through gritted teeth. He can feel his tea getting frigid, and bites back the burst of white air that would make Sandy ask questions.

He wouldn’t know how to answer questions about that, which is why he can’t deal with them. That’s the reason.

He’s saying you’re weak.

MK hides a grimace, and lets his heart ache silently. He sips the tea. It’s ice cold.

“What brought this on?” Sandy asks, instead of answering the question, which grates on MK’s nerves more than it should.

“I let DBK get too powerful,” he says. “He destroyed the city again, and people got hurt. If I’d just got rid of him before, those people would be okay.”

Sandy sighs, taking a sip of his tea. A cat hops into MK’s lap, curling up, but after a few frigid moments hops away. Apparently MK is too cold for its liking. He tries not to get offended by that, but the hot well of shame and longing persists. At least the feeling is warm.

“MK, you’re still learning. Mistakes are bound to happen. Those who got hurt will get better, and the city is rebuilt better than ever! You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders. And,” Sandy looks away, and suddenly he looks a lot older than MK thinks he is. “Honestly, being too harsh to make an enemy stop can feel good in the moment, but it does more harm than good, especially to the person who does the fighting.”

And MK leaves it at that, but thinks he doesn’t mind if it harms him, if it keeps everyone else safe.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Another story!” MK begs, spinning on the barstool. Pigsy always tells him not to, something about wearing down the seat joint, but at the same time Pigsy never really stops MK when he does it either, because MK only does it when he’s very excited and hyper.

Tang finishes his bowl of noodles with a chuckle, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose in a practiced motion that MK is oh so familiar with. MK taps the front of his sketchbook with his pencil impatiently.

“Alright, alright. Tell you what, I’ll tell you the story of the Baigujing, or White Bone Spirit,” Tang’s voice falls into storyteller mode, and MK is immediately entranced. Pigsy, from the kitchen, slams down a pan and groans.

“Not that one, Tang. I hate that one, you know that,” MK turns to his boss and is surprised to see an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. What in this story would Pigsy have to be embarrassed about?

“Hey, MK wants to know all the Monkey King stories. I’m not going to rob him of knowledge,” Tang argues back. He leans close to MK and whispers “Pigsy couldn’t sleep for a week after I told him this one.”

“That is not true!” Pigsy barks, indignant, and MK laughs.

Tang chuckles to himself, and Pigsy turns back to his work with a grumble. Right now is a lull in business, right after the lunch rush and before early dinners get called in, so MK is taking his break and Pigsy isn’t too upset by it. It’s just enough time for a story.

“Okay. The Baigujing was a shapeshifting demon, who saw Monkey King and his group of traveling companions as they passed by. Her eyes caught on the human monk, Tang Sanzang,” MK perks up.

“Hey, that’s like your name!” he points out, and both Tang and Pigsy look startled. Tang coughs, awkward.

“Yes-well-uh, it’s a family name,” he amends quickly. MK tilts his head to the side. “Anyway, she decided she wanted to taste the monk’s flesh. So, she disguised herself as a little girl, coming up to the group and offering them poisoned fruits. Because she was so powerful, only Monkey King could sense her treachery, and he hit her with his staff, seemingly killing her.”

MK gasps, doesn’t understand the fury that builds behind his eyes.

Tang glances at him, for a moment, and then jumps.

“MK? You okay?” He asks, and MK blinks.

“What-yeah! What happened next?” Tang looks him over, gaze catching on MK’s eyes, before he sighs and continues.

“The Monkey King’s companions were shocked and appalled. They thought he had killed an innocent girl! He tried to explain, but they didn’t believe him. The Monk buried the girl, who turned back into the spirit. She tried again, once as the supposed mother of the little girl, and then the grandfather. Monkey King managed to show her as a skeleton spirit during their last encounter, clearing his name, but then his companion, Bajie, told Sanzang that Monkey King made it up. Thus, Monkey King was abandoned, at least until the Monk was captured by a demon Wujing and Baijie couldn’t defeat, and Bajie had to apologize to bring him back,” Tang finishes, and MK’s face settles into a pout.

“Bajie’s a jerk!” He crosses his arms.

“He apologized,” Pigsy mumbles, from his place in the kitchen, where he slices scallions violently. “More than once. Not that it matters.”

“Monkey King didn’t exactly endear himself to his peers,” Tang amends. “Perhaps if he had been less full of himself at the time, they all could have gotten along better. But, all four grew to be better people by the end of their journey.”

MK finishes a sketch of the scenes Tang had described with a flourish, and he tilts his head to one side. “Kind of rude to just attack the lady, though, couldn’t he have tried to talk it out?” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to defend the demon, but she doesn’t seem too bad.

Tang makes a face.

“She wanted to eat a person, MK,” he says, and MK makes a face that mirror’s Tang’s expression.

“Right. Eugh, gross. Anyway, thanks Mr. Tang!” he hops off the barstool and puts back on his collared shirt, making sure his headband doesn’t slip down. “Any orders, Pigsy?”

Pigsy jerks his thumb to the few on the counter. MK picks them up, and continues on to work, the story sitting in the back of his mind. He stumbles a bit while walking. He doesn’t feel the key in his hand, his fingers numbed over time. He should be concerned, but everything else seems fine.

He kind of wishes he could have met the Baigujing. She doesn’t seem too bad, besides the people eating. Maybe they could have worked it out.

Who does Sun Wukong think he is, deciding to serve justice anyway he sees fit?

MK frowns and buttons up his shirt. His chest feels like ice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s so, so tired.

MK looks at himself in the mirror when he wakes up and his skin looks paler, his lips a little blue. He has bags under his eyes that vanish by the time he leaves the bathroom, a bottle of concealer and a tube of lipstick on the bathroom sink that he doesn’t remember buying.

His memory’s been growing spottier, too, missing minutes, hours. Mei talks to him about a high score he beat at the arcade and he nods along, no clue what she’s talking about but not wanting to worry her. He hasn’t gone to see Sandy in what feels like years, but gets a text from him thanking MK for taking care of the cats one afternoon. There are sketches in his sketchbook he doesn’t remember drawing, from stories Tang told him that he can’t remember hearing.

He’s lost feeling in his hands and feet. He’s dropped enough bowls of soup for Pigsy to go from mad to worried, and he shoves MK off to Flower Fruit Mountain because it’s warmer there, and MK always looks cold.

He stumbles when he hits sand, nearly bowls over with how much the island rejects him, how much it wants him not to be there. This is supposed to be a safe place, but the sand feels like needles and the wind slices at his face. Monkey King comes rushing out like a bat out of hell, teeth bared, but he sees MK, kneeling on the beach, and runs over.

“You okay, bud? You look…,” he doesn’t say awful, but MK knows he’s thinking it. MK looks awful, feels awful, is awful. And the solution to that is right there, waiting for him, but he doesn’t want to take it because he’s a coward. The voice in his head gave him an ironclad idea, a perfect plan, and he’s been ignoring it because he’s scared.

Weak little vessel.

The hiss in his ear makes him wince, and he trembles as Monkey King helps him up.

“Tired,” he manages, leaning against Monkey King because he hardly has the strength to stand.

“I can see that.” The try at levity has MK chuckling, but Monkey King is soft and warm and all MK wants to do is suck that warmth into himself, so he can stop being cold for one second. “Why don’t we head to my place and watch something. There’s always my show, right?”

MK nods, blinking slowly, and Monkey King takes a step forward. Suddenly, they’re at Monkey King’s house. When did they get there? Why are they here again?

He’s set on the couch.

“There’s something off about your aura, kid. Touch anything mystic or weird back at home?” Monkey King runs his fingers through MK’s hair, and MK leans into the touch. Warm. Safe.

He shakes his head, a full minute after the question is asked. Monkey King hums in thought.

“How do you even see auras?” MK mumbles, words slurring a bit as he talks. “Teach me?”

Monkey King’s hand stills, and MK whines a little, prompting his mentor to continue the motions.

“I already have, bud,” Monkey King whispers, more to himself than to MK. MK blinks in confusion. He doesn’t remember that.

Rest, Vessel.

The voice whispers so sweetly in his ear. It’s nice, sometimes. Mean other times. MK wonders if that’s his fault. Is he so bad that even his own head is mad at him? How can he be better? He’s trying so hard.

The TV is turned on. MK doesn’t register the sound, but the light makes him turn his head away. Monkey King turns down the brightness with his remote. Another monkey rests on top of MK for a moment, before jumping off. It shivers at the temperature of MK’s jacket, his skin, and moves over to Monkey King’s shoulder.

MK rests his head on Monkey King’s lap, and closes his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up in a dream. He stands on ice. Each step he takes is careful, lest he slip, and even still he stumbles and fumbles. He can see something in the distance.

“Hello?” he calls out, but the person doesn’t answer. The closer he gets, the more he can make them out. “Mei?”

It is her, but then her head drops, straight off of her neck.

“NO!” MK screams, running to her, and he stumbles and falls. His knees hit ice and they burn with the chill that sinks through his pants. He slides to her body, cradling it and her head as if he could put her back together with hope.

He turns, looking for a reason for this, and when he looks up, all of the adults in his life are standing around him, their faces covered in shadow. Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Monkey King—they’re all looking down on him.

“Look what you let happen,” Pigsy growls out.

“She’s dead,” Tang continues.

“You didn’t save her,” Sandy drones on.

“You let her die,” Monkey King spits.

“No…” MK breathes, and the tears build in his eyes and down his cheeks, freezing on his face. It burns.

You have a choice, vessel.

The figures of his friends vanish into mist, and MK curls his arms around himself. He misses the contact. He hates to be alone.

A woman wreathed in white kneels down in front of him. It hurts to look at her, and MK averts his gaze until she tilts up his chin so he can look nowhere else. Her face is ice cold, yet inviting. He can’t look away from her eyes.

Don’t you want them to stay? Don’t you want them to be safe?

MK nods, quickly. Of course that’s what he wants. More than anything, he wants that love, that adoration. He wants his family to be safe, to never leave.

You know what to do.

It feels like ice is creeping up his skin, encasing him in frigidity. She holds out his hand, and he can do nothing else but take it. The cold reaches its peak, and suddenly it’s warm. It burns, and yet the warmth is inviting, a relief after months of being so, so cold and confused and tired. He is past the point of cold, of freezing, of sub zero. He is warm. He is ready.

He is hers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up well rested, and the cold that had settled into him still feels like the burn that is a welcome respite from before. Monkey King is still asleep, and MK leaves him there, leaving the house and walking slowly out of the inner mountain.

He leaves footprints of ice where he steps. The monkeys watch, from the trees, trembling as their eyes gaze upon something inhuman, sitting in MK’s skin. MK has never felt better. He knows what to do now. He knows how to make things right.

The staff in his hands feels heavier, for a moment, but MK grips it tight and bends it to his will. He pogos out of the island with ease, letting the wind whip his hair back.

He hasn’t blinked in a while. He forgot he had to. He blinks because the wind makes his eyes sting, and touches the ground with a gentleness he didn’t know he could master.

He lets his eyes glow gold, searching. He remembers, now, how to look at auras. He remembers a lot of things now. It’s like the pressing weight of being weak for the sake of niceties has vanished, and now he is sharp and ready.

The only question is which of his enemies does he go after first? He needs to get all of them, keep them secure. It’s the only way the town, the city, will be safe.

The small fry first. We’ll work our way up to the demon king.

Right, that makes sense. MK grins to himself. It’s so nice to have someone constantly helping, constantly making sure he’s doing the right thing. He’s useless on his own, but give him a direction and he’ll follow it to the letter.

He can see gold and silver, in the distance. He forgets their names, at first, but their auras jog his memory. Yin and Jin.

They put him in the calabash. They weren’t good at it, but they were good enough. They’re demons. Dangerous. He needs to make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.

He heads to their home, not in a hurry. There’s no rush to the inevitable. Is this what self confidence is? The feeling of knowing you can do it, that you will do it, that no one can stop you? It feels very gratifying. He lets the glow in his eyes vanish, because he doesn’t want to startle everyone around him.

His phone buzzes. A text from Pigsy, demanding to know where he is. He responds with ‘Dealing with Monkie Kid stuff. Be back soon!’ and a string of emojis that Pigsy will find incomprehensible, before continuing on his trek.

He reaches the door, and hears a conversation.

“So, our plan has three steps. That’s an improvement,” Yin seems to be pacing, from what MK can hear.

“Step one, capture the monkie kid,” Jin pipes up, and MK fights back a laugh. “Step two, take the staff from him.”

As if they could. MK almost has to admire their tenacity.

“Step three, take over the world!” Yin finishes, and MK takes that as his cue to step in.

He knocks in the door. Polite. He still has manners, after all.

“Huh? Jin, did you order out for dinner again?” Yin barks out.

“We don’t have the money for that!” Is the response.

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Yin grumbles, moving to the door.

Here they come!

MK counts the steps Yin takes to the door, itching with anticipation.

“Hello?” Yin opens the door, and then jumps in surprise.

“Hi!” MK waves, and taps his staff on the ground.

There’s a thunk; not a thud of a body, but a thunk of a block of ice. MK pats the statue with a fond look. He’ll chip away the extra pieces later. This is his first attempt, it’s normal for it to be less precise. He can get better at it with practice. Jin turns, from his place at the desk, and his eyes widen when he sees his brother, frozen on the floor.

“Yin—what did you do?” Red eyes glow dangerously, and MK wonders if they would be more ferocious if he threatened one over the other. Jin gets up, teeth bared.

“This,” MK replies, tapping his staff on the ground.

Jin takes a step forward and freezes in place. Or, is frozen, MK supposes. He looks at the brothers, safely imprisoned, and wonders. Where is he going to put them? There’s not enough room here for all of his enemies to be placed. What’s a good place to set everything up?

The cave? The old villain hideout?

That’s perfect! After all, it would be the funniest form of irony, right? Turning a villain hideout to his base for his world saving plan. Gosh, he’s so smart. Because this is him, all him. He finally is smart enough to know what to do. He has to clear out the cave, first. It’s not far away, hidden beneath the sewers. There’s a path to it from the area where the staff used to lie.

He sets Yin and Jin next to each other, considering their poses. He thinks they look a little off, but he can fix that, right? He can fix anything, given enough time. That’s what all this is, fixing the problem of demons who’ve escaped because of DBK’s release. He nods to himself, and heads off. He has rocks to clear out, he has a cave to excavate.

But, he promised Pigsy that he’d be back soon. That stops him short. He can’t skip work!

This will make him far happier in the long run.

Still, what’s a few hours of work to make Pigsy happy now? He shakes off the one track mind and puts his staff away. The ice won’t melt fast (or at all) and he’s got time. The flash of cold he gets in response to that thought doesn’t inspire comfort, and he second guesses himself a few times, but he heads to the shop anyway.

“Hey Pigsy!” he waves, and Pigsy glances at him and jerks a thumb over to the pile of orders on the counter. “On it!”

MK swoops them up and sets them all on the delivery cart. Pigsy glances at him again, and then freezes.

“MK?” he asks.

MK turns, blinking a few times. “Yeah?” he responds, and Pigsy peers at him, almost suspicious.

MK tilts his head to the side in confusion. A part of him is glad that he has concealer on, because they don’t have the time to chat about MK’s new skin tone, not with all these orders. He watches Pigsy shiver, muttering something about the A/C acting up, before Pigsy shakes himself off and sets his hands on his hips.

“I thought-your eyes-nevermind. Get those orders out!” Pigsy barks, and MK stands at attention, giving Pigsy a salute.

“On it!” He promises, sliding out of the shop and hopping onto the delivery cart.

It only takes an hour, which is much faster than he usually is, but focus comes easy when he’s driven. The faster he gets this done they faster he gets to get back to his real work. The work that will make things better for everyone.

Right. Of course.

His shift ends when the store closes, and he’s gone before Pigsy can say anything about his work ethic or ask where MK has been or is going. He rushes to the construction site, dives below, rushing past the decaying plants where there once were flowers and a growing tree. Without Monkey King’s staff, there’s nothing making sure the plants live. MK frowns at the sight but stays focused on the task at hand.

Aim. The staff can be as large as a mountain if it needs to be. Crush what’s in your way.

He nods to himself, breaking through the rubble that has blocked off the tunnel. The ground shakes, the whole underground rumbles with power, and he hopes he’s not keeping anyone up. Then again, it’s not too bad if it’s just for a night, considering how many nights later he’s going to keep quiet. Everyone will be able to rest easy once he’s done.

He huffs a breath, and it comes out white. He should be concerned, but honestly it looks cool. He remembers to blink, because his eyes are starting to burn. He doesn’t know why he keeps forgetting.

He makes his way to the cavern, and uses ice to keep the ceiling up. Pillars rise, frost fills the spaces between rocks that would have cracked and splintered eventually. The floor remains untouched, save for when he fills in the cracks that could trip someone up.

He doesn’t remember when he got these ice powers. They seem new? Why hasn’t he used them before? How come Monkey King never told him about them?

Monkey King’s always had ice powers.

Has he? MK isn’t so sure about that.

You’re his successor, not a carbon copy. It makes sense you would have different powers than him.

Right. MK nods to himself. Now, time to get Yin and Jin! Carrying them is going to be a challenge.

It takes him an hour to get them both there, and another half hour to figure out where to put them. He has to consider DBK’s size. Wait, does he have to go and get the spider demon lady? He shivers at the thought, a deep well of terror sinking in his gut. Even as self assured as he is now, spiders still terrify him.

I can take care of that.

Really?

Yes. But first, rest.

Right. He needs to head back to his house. Pigsy will be worried if he doesn’t come home soon. He heads out of the construction site, skipping all the way home.

He barely sleeps.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The week is certainly a busy one. MK spends any time not with his friends searching, and he spends far less time with his friends, nowadays. The spider demon isn’t easy to find. He does manage to get some small fry lesser demons he hadn’t met before and now never will. He doesn’t need to meet people who will inevitably try to kill him and those around him. Far better to prevent the attack than deal with the aftermath thereof.

His collection of ice sculptures is growing. MK likes to spend time chipping away at the blocks to them more polished. It’s like sketching, in a way, or cleaning up a sketch. It also gives him an opportunity to practice a more precise use of his ice powers. He can make a mean ice chisel now, and he’s learned how to force the limbs of those frozen into the position he likes. Yin and Jin stand on top of each other, like they did in their introduction. The expressions on their faces aren’t what he likes, but he can cover it with frost and it’s like it was never there.

He meets up with Mei, one afternoon.

“Hey, MK!” She barrels into him, and immediately jumps back.

He reaches out, missing the contact, but she shakes out a shiver. “Dang, you’re cold!” She slugs him on the shoulder, and he laughs.

“I feel fine. Maybe you’re just being dramatic,” he shoots back, and she laughs with him, before her eyes glance at his face and she freezes. “What?”

“Your eyes,” she murmurs, all joking replaced with concern. He tilts his head to a side in confusion. “They’re blue?” She adds.

“Oh!” he says, and the words that come out of his mouth don’t sound like him at all. He doesn’t think he thought of them, and he doesn’t feel his lips move but the sound comes out anyway. “I’m trying out some contacts. Do you like them?” He bats his eyelashes at her, all in jest.

Her confusion melts into a smile. “I like your regular eye color better,” She admits. “But those look cool!”

She grabs him by his wrist, using his jacket as a buffer, and drags him to an arcade. Every machine he touches sticks a little, the joystick and button a tad frozen by his touch, and he doesn’t win a match by any means, but he doesn’t mind. Every time Mei leans close to him it feels like a victory. Even though he feels warm, at least a sort of freezer burn warmth, the people around him have pulled away. He’s too cold for them.

He needs contact.

Someone trips Mei as they’re running around the arcade. Her nose bleeds, and MK feels his hackles rising. Someone hurt his friend. A demon? A scan of the area reveals no such thing. Just a mean person. He can hear them snickering as they walk away.

Mei is more important than MK’s anger, so he takes her outside and finds some tissues, cleans her up. He takes her out to her favorite restaurant (not Pigsy’s, though they’ll never tell him that) and they end the night with a race around town. Her bike is an electric green streak, and he’ll never catch up, but he gives it his all before they finish outside his place.

“See ya later!” Mei still sounds a bit stuffed up from the nosebleed, and MK waves until she’s out of sight. When she disappears, his expression shutters, anger against her unrecognizable assailant returning in a flash.

He’s been getting rid of demons, but that’s not enough! Mei still got hurt, because people are unpredictable. He heads to his room and paces. How can he fix it, how can he make it better?

Maybe more than demons should be frozen.

MK stops in his tracks. Now, there’s an idea. But to freeze them forever, that seems like too much.

Not forever. Just until they know how to behave. Think of it as a pause button.

It would be nice if things just stopped for a moment. Then he could have all the time in the world to fix it. Once he gets the demons out of the way, he can do that. Then, once everyone learns to behave, they can come out. However long that takes.

He can be patient, for his friends. This is all for them, after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A day after that, and he’s found the Spider Demon’s lair. Every step he takes inside makes him shake, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take her. He’s so nervous, so scared.

I can help, remember? Just take a deep breath.

He takes a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

He closes his eyes.

He doesn’t open them, but they open anyway. Everything is washed in a soft layer of white, like frost, and his body moves but he doesn’t tell it to. The fear he felt is muted, and he settles into the comfort of its absence. He asked for this, right?

The spider demon—she wanted to be a Queen, right? MK hadn’t been really paying attention when she went on her rant, too petrified to listen—skitters out, and when she locks eyes with him, she smiles.

“Aww, is the little monkie boy back to play?” She giggles, and MK’s body throws the staff at her. She ducks with a yelp, and scrambles back. “Ooo, we’re rough, now? Seems you’re not so scared anymore,” She purrs, but he can hear the nervousness in her voice as the staff comes back to his hand.

“Iͥ ʷgͣˢoᶰtͤ ͮoͤvͬeˢrͨ ͣiͬtͤᵈ.” The sound comes out of his mouth, and it doesn’t sound much like MK at all. Huh. His body takes a step forward, and ice spreads out from beneath his foot. “Tͭuͧrͬᶰnˢs ͦoͧuͭtʸ,ͦ ͧyˢoͪuͦ'ͧˡrͩe ͪnͣoͮtͤ ᵇtͤhͤᶰeʷ ͦsͬcͬaͥrͤiͩesͣᵇtͦ ͧdͭemͫoͤn ͥoͫuᶠtͬ ͤtͤhere.”

The Spider Queen’s expression shifts, and she tries to run, but MK’s legs are faster. He watches himself move, jumping over stones and cliffs and any obstacle. The webs she tries to trap him in freeze, and he slides across them as if his feet were skates.

Eventually, he corners her. MK watches his body close in, and suddenly he’s back in control, staring her down. Satisfaction crawls up his back, a cold grin splitting his face in two.

“ʷWͪhͦˢoˢ'ͨsͣ ͬsͤcͩaᶰrͦʷed now?” He grins, and she screams.

Ice, it turns out, is a great muffler.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finding DBK’s hiding place is harder. MK locates it just outside the city limits, in an abandoned scrapyard. The perfect place to get parts for new bull clones and other random things Red Son can come up with.

He decides to go on the weekend, but as he prepares the night before Monkey King makes an appearance in his room.

“Hey, bud,” MK jumps at his arrival.

He must have been hiding as a bug or something, like when MK first found the staff.

“Monkey King!” He grins at his arrival, hopping up. “What’s the occasion? Is there something new you wanted to teach me? Is there a demon we have to fight?” We, not as in MK and Monkey King, but MK and himself. Because he’s not one, not really, and that’s fun! He hates being alone, after all.

“No, no,” Monkey King chuckles, overly fond. Right, MK hasn’t been to Flower Fruit Mountain for a week. “It’s just-you left pretty early, and, uh, you didn’t say anything about our next training sesh, you know? And, uhh, pretty sure you shouldn’t be slacking off on that.”

The half hearted scolding aside, MK almost thinks that Monkey King missed him. But that’s ridiculous.

“Well, you were sleeping when I got up, and I had to go to work,” The lie slips easily off of his tongue. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I left! Um, we’re busy tomorrow, but Sunday works for training, if that’s cool?” He rocks back and forth on his feet, ever excited.

“We’re? Who’s cooler than me to hang out with?” Monkey King reaches out to ruffle his hair, and MK can feel the shiver that jolts through the monkey’s body at the touch. Monkey King doesn’t comment on it, though.

“I promised Mei we’d hang out. It’s been a busy week at the shop, so I haven’t been able to party with her,” He doesn’t know where these lies are coming from.

Sometimes he talks and it’s not him at all. He should be concerned, but honestly he doesn’t mind if his other self takes the reigns. He fumbles over his words way too often to be annoyed that someone is smoothing him out.

Polished like an ice sculpture; MK thinks he could be beautiful if he was like that.

“Alright, fine. You and your friend can….do whatever it is kids do these days. Am I an adult—oh my god I’m an adult,” Monkey King flops back onto his nimbus cloud with a groan while MK giggles.

“Anyway, get some rest, bud. You look tired,” is the last thing Monkey King says to him.

“On it!” MK salutes, and Monkey King floats through the window and then rockets off. The papers in MK’s room all swirl from the blowback, and MK grabs one of the sketches that floats back down.

He doesn’t remember the last time he asked Tang for a story. The last time he sketched anything else at all. But, a hero doesn’t need hobbies so trivial.

He plans. Plans for how the city is going to look like, when he’s finished with it all. He doesn’t need to write down the steps to get there, he has his head voice for that, but the city. How it will look, when he’s done. He has to figure it out, draw it out, and pin it to the wall so he can look at it every morning and evening and remember why he’s doing this. So he sketches. Pins the piece to the wall.

Squints. He doesn’t like it.

Back to the drawing board.

His wall is covered by the time the sun rises, and MK still isn’t satisfied. But there is no time to waste. So, he picks up the outfit that feels all the more new—blue isn’t a color he expected to like, but blue is cold is safe is good is the burning warmth he needs, so he leaves the orange jacket and red headband hanging off of his desk chair.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he can barely tell the difference!

He is gone before Pigsy comes up with breakfast, before Pigsy calls for Tang to look at the mess MK left behind, enough drawings of the same thing for anyone to get the picture. He is gone before Pigsy and Tang investigate, speak in hushed tones, and call for Sandy, Mei, and eventually Monkey King.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Getting to the outskirts of town is the easy part. Infiltrating DBK’s base is a bit harder. It’s not heavily fortified, but MK thinks that’s more because he has never tried to infiltrate such a place. He doesn’t really attack first, he just protects. But that’s not good enough anymore, clearly. He can’t just be protective, he needs to be proactive.

He slides past the guards, freezes them for good measure. After all, they’re going to be made useless once he takes their leader down, so it’s not as if he’s wasting anything. There’s also always the chance they get wise, and MK doesn’t want his entrance ruined.

The inner sanctum of the base looks more like a house, made large to accommodate DBK’s figure. There are pictures on the wall, from painted portraits to black and white to color photos. MK supposes that the Demon Bull Family has been around long enough to have portraits taken in all sorts of mediums. He wonders if they have statues, a shrine? He bites back a giggle at the thought.

The booming sound of cloven footsteps alerts MK to DBK’s arrival, though by the sounds of two voices approaching, Princess Iron Fan must be with him.

“Red Son has been pulling away from us,” the gravel in DBK’s voice is soft, somehow. MK listens in with interest. What is it they are doing to their son now?

“You tried to kill him. He can’t help but take it personally,” is Princess Iron Fan’s reply. “He barely knows you, and he’s young. He’ll grow out of it,” she waves a hand, unconcerned.

MK glares at them. The temperature in the hallway drops, until Princess Iron Fan shivers.

“Darling, I thought this house had a heating function?” Princess Iron fan curls her arms around herself, and DBK picks her up and sets her on his shoulder, suddenly on guard.

“It does, the boy made it so,” he growls, sniffing around for intruders. MK decides to let himself be known.

“Hi!” he says as he pops out from around the corner.

“Noodle boy?” Princess Iron Fan questions.

“Little Thief,” DBK growls.

“Actually, I go by MK,” he corrects cheerily. “But, anyway, could you hold still? This will be harder if you move,” He twirls his staff casually. DBK growls, and Princess Iron Fan places a hand on the side of his face to silence him.

“MK,” Princess Iron Fan starts, with a forced air of politeness. “We are in your debt for helping save my husband. However, if you attack us, we will have no choice but to fight back, and we will not be kind.”

She grins, self assured, and continues “And you know what happened the last time you tried to fight me.”

Fire. Volcanoes. She had tried to kill him and, more importantly, she had made his friends cry. But things have changed, haven’t they?

MK giggles. The sound echoes, and the hallway gets colder. Frost crawls over the walls, and MK looks up with eyes that glow.

“Aͣcͨtͭuͧaͣˡlˡlʸy,ͥ Iͭ ͪtͥᶰhᵏiʸnͦkͧ ˢyͪoͦuͧˡ'ͩllͬ ͧᶰfiͥᶠnʸdͦ ͧmᵏeᶰ ͦʷtʷoͪ ͣbͭˢeᵍ ͦhͦaͩrᶠdͦeͬrʸ ͦtͧo ᶰbͦeͭatͭ ͪtͣhͭaʸnͦ ͧbeͨfͣᶰorͤˢeͨᵃᵖᵉ,” He jumps up with a smile, and sprints forward.

Something dawns on her face, and Princess Iron Fan stands.

“Darling, we need to run,” She says, quickly, but MK jumps and bounces off of the walls and is eye to eye with her before she can explain.

She doesn’t even have time to grab her fan.

DBK jumps back as the block of ice slides off his shoulder and he roars.

“Father?!” MK hears Red Son’s voice from afar and ignores that for now.

“I will tear you to pieces you ingrate!” DBK shouts, and MK laughs.

“ʸYͦoͧu ͨcͦoͧˡuͩᶰlͭdnͤ'ͮtͤᶰ ˢeͭvͦᵖenͫ ͤbʷeͪaͤᶰt ͥmʷeͣˢ wͥᶰhʸeͦnͧ ͬI ͪwͤaͣsͩnʸ'ͦtͧ ᶠtͦrͦˡying!” he shouts back, dodging a blow that sinks DBK’s fist in the wall.

The frost slides from the wall to DBK’s arm, gluing him there. He fires the gun on his other arm, and MK dodges.

“Nͥiͩcͥeͦ ͭshot!” He dances around the room.

DBK takes a step in the wrong direction, and slips on the ice cube that is his wife, dropping to the ground. MK wastes no time, and DBK’s roar is silenced abruptly.

Finally.

“Noodle Boy! What on earth are you doing?!” Red Son looks rather steamed, if the smoke coming off of him is any indication.

“Hi, Red Son! I was just taking care of your parents,” MK gestures to the popsicles on the floor. Red Son stares, face a mixture of confusion and horror, and MK barrels toward him. “Now they can’t be mean to you anymore. You can make fun inventions and not have to be a mean guy all the time!” Honestly, if anything, Red Son should be thanking MK, but MK doesn’t do this for thanks. He takes a few hairs and blows on them, and his clones start to work on moving the new additions to his cave.

“You—” Red Son is at a loss for words before landing on “Give me back my parents!”

See, MK was worried about that. He would likely have responded the same, when he first left his parents.

“But I worked hard to get them out of the way!” MK pouts. “But, I get it. You don’t understand. You just need to ᵍcͤoͭolͦ ͧdͭowͦᶠn,ͦ ͧoͬkʷaͣʸy?” MK reaches out, places a hand on Red Son’s shoulder before he can be stopped, and Red Son is going to freeze too, when—

Red Son explodes, and MK burns.

It’s not enough to melt the ice, no, but MK is thrown back against the wall, eyes wide.

The chill in his bones vanishes with a screech, and all he can hear is screaming. For a moment, something rises within him.

This is wrong.

He shouldn’t be doing this, he can’t be.

He isn’t a bad person, he isn’t cruel. He wouldn’t do this.

He needs to stop, he needs to—

And then the flames vanish, and so does Red Son, and the cold slips back into place with brutal efficiency. MK blinks, tries to remember where he is. Right, DBK and Princess Iron Fan. He got them! Great.

His clones have been destroyed in the blaze, so he makes some new ones, and heads back to base.

A shame he couldn’t get Red Son to understand, but they all will soon enough.

Good job, vessel.

MK feels warm. It burns.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s deliberating back at his hideout about where his newest statues should go when he hears a sharp gasp from behind him. He turns, and Mei is looking at him with something that looks like horror, but that can’t be right. Why would she be horrified by something so beautiful?

“MK?” she starts, cautiously. “What…happened to you? You look really bad, why are you wearing blue?”

“I like the color!” he asserts. “And I’m fine!”

She purses her lips, and then tries again.

“Um...MK. What is this?” She points to the frozen menagerie behind him.

MK does not pout, even though he feels like he should.

“You ruined the surprise,” he grumbles, arms crossed over his chest. “I stopped all the bad guys! See?” he gestures to them. “Now they can’t hurt anyone.”

There’s a pause, before Mei can catch up, where MK asks, “Hey, do you think people would want to put them in a museum?” He taps his chin with his index finger, deliberating.

“How did you...does Monkey King have powers like this?” she tries, a third time.

“No, I don’t,” MK jumps at the sound of Monkey King’s voice. Monkey King floats down on his cloud, hopping off and looking at MK with an air of suspicion. “Kid, how are you doing this? Why are you doing this?”

“‘Cause they hurt you guys,” MK has been itching for a chance to explain, to get someone to understand. “And the-my head voice gave me the idea. Once these guys are all gone, everyone can be safe, and no one will leave!”

“Head voice?” Pigsy comes from behind a pillar. “MK, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the voice in your head that sounds like you?” He explains. “It-it told me how to do it. And I’m not a carbon copy of Monkey King, it makes sense that I’d have a few new powers, you know?”

“No,” Tang appears, from somewhere.

When did all of his friends get here? He can see Sandy, Mo in tow on his shoulder, peeking in.

“You shouldn’t have any deviations. Maybe your transformations would be different, but to go so far as to have ice powers?” Tang pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, and his glasses flash. “That shouldn’t be possible, given Monkey King’s power set.”

“What’s going on, kid?” Sandy’s voice is very soft, as he approaches, just like when they were on the boat.

“Nothing!” MK’s voice is cheery as ever. “I’m just fixing things, okay? I think you need to ˢcͪhͧiͭllͧᵖ ʷoͧʲuͥᶰtᵍ,” he reaches forward, and Sandy and Mo are ice.

Mei screams.

“What?” MK looks on, bewildered, as his friends stare at him in horror. “He’ll be fine! It doesn’t hurt. I’ve been freezing for ages! It gets warm after a while.”

His eyes glow, and Tang pales.

“Baigujing,” he breathes, and MK turns to him.

“What about her?” he asks, and Tang puts a hand to his mouth, biting his lip and glancing between the rest of the group and MK, unsure.

“Bud,” Monkey King takes a few cautious steps toward MK, as if MK were a cornered animal. His feet slip a little on the ice, but not enough to stop his careful approach. His tail is poised and very still, not so much as a twitch from it. “I think you’re feeling a bit...um, scrambled right now. Why don’t you hand me the staff, and we can talk about this?” He gives MK a soft smile, but MK frowns.

If he takes the staff you can’t finish your work! Does he think you don’t deserve it anymore?

“But I need it,” he responds, simple and to the point. “It’s mine.” Right? Because Monkey King gave it to him. Gifts can’t be taken back, right? MK’s still worthy, right?

Monkey King takes a deep breath, like he’s biting back a retort.

“Preeeeetty sure I let you borrow it. ‘S called ‘Monkey King’s Staff’ for a reason, bud. C’mon.”

Another step forward. MK grips the staff tighter.

“MK, please,” Tang calls from his other side.

Don’t let him take it!

“We need you to let go!” Mei’s voice hits his ears.

They’re all lying to you!

“Kid-I-c’mon, just let ‘em have it and we can go home,” Pigsy’s voice breaks, and MK feels like he’s going to break with it.

Is he even going to let you keep your home?!

Monkey King is close enough that MK can feel the heat of his power emanating off of him, of the great Sun Wukong. His paws are soft and somehow even warmer than his power as he curls them around MK’s grip on the staff.

They don’t understand! They’re going to abandon you!

“That’s it, easy does it,” Relief colors Monkey King’s tone, and he smiles at MK as if MK were the sun. It’s too soft to be true. “Just hand it over, and we’ll make sure everything’s okay, alright?”

He starts to tug, pulling the staff out of MK’s grip ever so gently, and MK flinches as the voice rings loud in his ear.

YOU NEED IT DON’T LET HIM TAKE IT FROM YOU HE’LL RUIN EVERYTHING—

“It’s MͫIͥᶰNͤE!” MK shouts, and he slams the side of it into Monkey King’s stomach and launches his mentor across the room.

Monkey King crashes into the wall, groaning as he pushes away the falling rubble. MK’s eyes are wild.

“It’s mine, and you can’t have it! I need it!” Ice crawls over his right hand, cementing his grip.

Tang sees it, takes a step back, and turns to the two horrified bystanders.

“Run!” he shouts, and Mei bolts. Pigsy stares, motioning for Tang to run, but Tang is too close to MK to do anything.

“What’d you do that for?” MK frowns, lowering a hand onto Tang’s shoulder. Pigsy makes a choked sound.

“Go! Bajie, get out of here!” Tang shouts, far more desperate than MK expected. Why is everyone so terrified? This is just a misunderstanding.

“Okay, tͭiͦmͦeˡ ͣoͭuͤt ͭfͦorͬ ͧᶰyˢoͣᶰuᶻᵃᶰᵍ,” MK pats Tang’s shoulder once, and Tang is rooted to the spot. MK freezes him slower, because Tang isn’t strong, merely smart. And if he does it slow, then he doesn’t have to chisel away the extra later.

Mei comes roaring in on her bike, and she picks up Pigsy by the back of his chef’s coat, throws him on the back of her bike, and zooms off.

“Tang!” Pigsy screams, but his voice gets farther and farther away.

“What’s wrong?” MK is so confused. He looks to Monkey King, who is just sitting there on his cloud, horrified.

“Sun Wukong,” Tang says, voice hard. The ice is up to his chest. “Get out of here. Bajie is going to be a wreck after this.”

“Can you make sense!” MK throws his hands up, tired of being ignored, talked over, walked over. “Or at least ˢsͪtͧoͭp ͧᵖtalking!” And Tang goes silent, frozen.

MK turns back to Monkey King, and finds that his mentor has vanished.

Well, that won’t do.

After them!

MK jumps onto a disk of ice and slides across stone, feet still as the ice barrels over any obstacle, leading him past the dead sliver of a great mountain and up onto the streets. Mei just has made her way to ground level, aided up by Monkey King, and MK zeroes in on them.

They pass by cars, and MK ignores the blaring horns as he slides over city streets. The ice trailing behind him makes cars swerve out of control, but he needs to get to his friends. They have to understand. This is all for them!

The ice shoots forward, and he gets closer and closer, until Mei’s back wheel hits frost and the back of the bike jerks one way, the front the other. The bike slips onto its side with immediacy, and Pigsy and Mei go sprawling as Mei’s bike falls apart, skidding across the ice.

Oh no.

“Mei!” he runs to her side.

She groans, her bike suit torn. He doesn’t even think about Pigsy at the moment, too worried about his best friend to think of the other person he hurt. Plus, Pigsy’s a full grown adult, and MK has never seen Pigsy hurt like Mei is, so it doesn’t even register that Pigsy could be as injured as she is. Her left arm has a large patch of skin that’s been burnt off by the road, and her legs are bleeding from various places. Thankfully, she was wearing a helmet, so MK doesn’t have to worry about something so serious.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you alright? Where does it hurt? I’m sorry!”

Some ice might help with the pain.

Right, right, icing the wound always helps. He goes to make some, the power swirling in his hand, when a horn from a car blares, making him wince.

Gosh, humans. They’re so annoying! If they could just stay out of the way, because he needs to fix this, that’d be great.

Remember the pause button?

It seems very inviting. MK nods.

Right. A pause button.

“Just a sec, Mei,” he leaves her groaning on the ground, turning to face the city.

He slams his staff into the ground.

Ice shoots out in a wild dash. It crawls over and into everything. Cars, buildings, people—everything freezes. He hears some screams, and watches people try and run for the hills, but the cold is faster. It billows down the streets, kicking up a white haze that is almost impossible to see through, that the pedestrians tripping on ice and solidifying get lost in, but it’s a snowy sheen that MK sees through perfectly. He can see the polished figures of buildings, glistening beneath their ice, the little mounds that must be people beneath the thick layer of ice.

It’s all so pristine. So perfect.

Finally.

MK is glad for the quiet. With him and himself in his head, it’s hard to deal with outside noise. He just needed a moment of calm, to get to the task at hand.

The task at hand...Mei!

“Mei, are you—” he stops. Mei and Pigsy aren’t there.

His eyes search for them, and he can see Monkey King hurriedly pulling them up onto his cloud. “Wait!”

Monkey King looks at him, and MK’s face is pleading. He just wants to do right. Why don’t they understand? Once he fixes it all, everyone will be happy. Can’t they wait?

“Sorry, bud,” Monkey King says.

MK doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. A rush of panic tries to grip his brain, something that was once so familiar, something that was once so him, but it disappears in MK’s desperation to act.

The cloud zooms off. He throws a hand out, running after it.

“NO!”

This is just like his dream. At the edge of the city, a wall of ice rises. It sparkles in the light of the setting sun, and MK raises it higher, and higher, as Monkey King and Mei and Pigsy and everyone he cares about most gets farther and farther away.

Monkey King punches through the ice, and they disappear into the horizon.

MK drops to his knees. They land hard on the frozen ground.

“You said they wouldn’t leave,” he whimpers out, crying because it hurts and he doesn’t know exactly why.

It’s more than just regular pain. Something warm and different and yet familiar stings. Something knows this isn’t right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go! If this was the right thing to do, why would everyone leave?

“I have to stop!” The words are forced out of his mouth.

MK doesn’t know when the words are him and when the words are something else. He doesn’t know who he is. What’s right? What’s wrong? How can he tell?

He’s just been listening to his own head, but his own head is arguing with itself.

He slams his free fist into his temple, to try and make things settle.

Chains drag him to the ground, leaving him stuck.

You are doing everything just right.

The voice is soft in one ear, but on the other side MK hears No! On repeat. No, this isn’t right. You froze good people. Innocent people! You froze Tang and Sandy! You made Pigsy cry! You hurt Mei!

They don’t understand yet. Monkey King is notoriously stubborn. He isn’t ready for his successor to pass him yet. All you have to do is wait for them to come back. And they will.

It’s harder and harder to hear the argument against this.

The voice sounds so self assured. The warmth that doesn’t burn gets weaker and weaker, like a fire out of kindling.

He wheezes, and tears turn to snowflakes on his skin. He chokes on his own breath. It comes out white and fogs his vision, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Everyone’s gone.

He’s alone.

This can’t be right.

It is. You just haven’t done enough yet.

That, MK understands. The need to do more, be more. It makes far more sense that he hasn’t done enough, than anything else.

“They’ll come back?” He asks, and his voice sounds so loud in the quiet. He feels a hand brush his hair back. He leans into the touch, but it’s gone.

Of course.

MK stands. The chains vanish, and he smiles.

“Okay then! Let’s get to work!”

He hasn’t let go of the staff in ages. He doesn’t think he can. He turns to the mess he’d made in his rush job, the frozen city’s statue. He has to fix that, it’s unsightly! Mei and Pigsy and Monkey King won’t like a mess.

As he plans, as he hopes, he feels a smile in the back of his head. It feels like a snowball to his skull, chilling and yet a comfort, somehow.

Wonderful work, Vessel. We’re going to do great things together.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #possession au #monkie kid mk #sun wukong #monkie kid monkey king #monkie kid mei #monkie kid red son #red son #kitkat1003

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breathings-of-the-heart · 5 years

Text

Imagine Levi Confessing his Love for You

A/N: THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT PLEASE READ THE TEXT BELOW BEFORE PROCEEDING THANK YOU :))

HERE IS A TIMELINE / EXPLANATION / BACKGROUND INFORMATION BECAUSE CASE THE TIME SKIPS OF THIS STORY ARE CONFUSING: I’m sorry for that everyone, I know the dates are sloppy and as a whole this fic doesn’t make too much sense; I tried to edit this piece as best I could to make the story as easy to follow as possible, but seeing as I can’t unpublish part 1 or 2, the cleanup still leaves things bit unclear. These imagines were originally chapters of a longer Levi x Reader fic that I decided to discontinue, which is why there are so many loose ends. Here was my original intention for this story, broken down for the few who choose to read the Author’s Notes lol.

We are going to do this in the order of the 3 part fic (I also put attached all the links to the titles)

Part 1: Imagine Relating to Mikasa About Loving Someone in the Military

The scene is set during the events of SEASON 1 of Attack on Titan, BEFORE the Female Titan Arc. (Y/N) was also hand selected by Levi to be part of the original Special Operation Squad; she bit her hand at the dinner table along with Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oluo to show their dedication and understanding towards Eren wayyy back in the beginning of the series. The Survey Corps is making preparations for their first attempt to go to Shiganshina since the Fall of Wall Maria and not only uncover the mole who killed captive titans Sonny and Bean, but also to get to Eren’s basement.

Part 2: To Love Another

The flashback and opening scene in the beginning of this writing piece (where (Y/N) and Hange are talking to each other) occurs shortly after (Y/N) wakes up in the infirmary room, before anyone breaks the news that she, aside from an injured Levi, is the last surviving member of Squad Levi after Annie killed the others in the Forest of Giant Trees in her female titan form. Hange’s intentions were to bring the (Y/N) and Levi together so they would be able to support each other during this mutual loss. But alas, (Y/N) accepts his rejection and the two suffer the aftermath of this tragic news alone. To read this arc for context/bonus content to get a better understanding of this mini series, see my posts (as a sort of prequel, if you will) Imagine Levi Finding you Injured on an Expedition and Imagine Being the Last Member of Squad Levi To Survive to fill that time gap :)

In real-time, all of Season 2 and Season 3 Part 1 have gone by with limited interaction between (Y/N) and Levi. This part of the story is occurring during Season 3 PART 2, (spoilers) after the Coup D'etat, and after Historia becomes Queen. (Y/N) is no longer an active soldier, having sustained injuries too severe to be reliable in combat. She remains useful to the Corps as a battle strategist, however, which allows her to stay. The Scouting Regiment is currently preparing to go to Eren’s basement in their second attempt, knowing Reiner and Berthold will be waiting for them there.

Part 3: Imagine Levi Confessing his Love for You (YOU ARE HERE)

This part takes place pretty much a week or so after the events of “To Love Another.” It is revealed how much (Y/N) has isolated herself in the months between Parts 1 and 2 from not only Levi, but Hange, the only one besides Mikasa who knew about her feelings for Levi prior to their falling out. (Y/N) confesses her feelings for Levi before the mission to Shiganshina in Season one, and the fic parallels itself and comes full circle once their final interaction occurs before the second and final mission to Shiganshina, for which, (Y/N) is unable to go for her death would be almost certain. She seen to be more valuable inside the walls, where she can carry on the duties of the Survey Corps should the entire regiment collapse during the mission. This is the final part :)

I HOPE THAT CLEARS THINGS UP!

requested by @a-single-uwo @dracq and @little-diva-gurl and a lovely anon who def isn’t the happiest that this took so long. Deepest apologies! Hope this was worth the wait. I also hope this post finds everyone safe and in good health during these crazy times <3

~~~~~

Dread bottled up in the bottom of your stomach, which threatened to fall down to your knees. Even Hange’s eyes brimmed with concern when she informed you that Levi requested your presence in his office; all of which was out of the blue, uncharacteristic, after months of him being accustomed to giving you your space.

Feigning annoyance, you stared at the soldier dummy two paces ahead, dented heavily with the marks of your punches. The sun was beating down on the early autumn day, and heat waves rose from the ground. It illuminated the glistening perspiration sliding down your figure, torso rising and falling in short breaths of exhaustion.

Hange watched you carefully from a distance. She noticed your tense muscles, clad in a sports bra and boxing shorts; the lack of attire made it impossible to hide the sudden tension and stiffness embedded in your lean muscles, a tell tale sign of distress. As a creature of observation and analytics, the Squad Leader could sense your discomfort as if it was written across your forehead.

The brunette watched you wipe the sweat off your forehead and yell in frustration, turning towards her direction and moving to land a kick at her head.

Unfazed and in possession of sharp reflexes, Hange took a step back, only to watch as you twisted mid-air and landed a 360 Crescent kick to the dummy-shaped bag, which broke open on impact under the force of the blow. Sand poured out of its opening and spilled onto the ground in a steady stream that grew less heavy as the seconds passed.

“I’ll have to admit, you are getting better, but (Y/N), don’t get your hopes up,” Hange cautioned. “The problem does not reside in your muscles. No matter how well you learn to fight like you used to, Annie crushed your ribs and threw you to the ground: it's your lungs that will never recover. You can’t come with us to Shiganshina tomorrow like this.”

Hunched over with hands on your knees, you regained a regular breathing pattern and began to feel the explosive pain in your chest. Airways blocked, you began coughing, willing the oxygen to enter your body.

“Let me humor myself, Hange-san. If I don’t try, I might go insane.”

It was almost tragic that such a young soldier was out of commission; you were full of promise, rivalling Mikasa in skill. Hange knew you were itching to do what you trained for your whole life: Coming to Shiganshina and putting it all on the line had always been your number one goal. You didn’t want to be left behind again, to die bitter and alone without the only people you cared about.

“Regardless, (Y/N), you’re stalling,” Hange smoothly shifted the topic of conversation back to what brought her to you in the first place. “He still has that power over you, huh?”

"It'll pass eventually," you sighed, hoping the words were true.

You bowed towards the tall female. She smiled in return, shaking her head softly.

Whilst pacing away, said person stopped you once more.

“(Y/N). For what it’s worth, I stand by what I said before. Don’t look so nervous, okay?”

Her words replayed in your head, a haunting ghost of the not-so-long ago past. Time was strange, that way. It seemed like everything happened yesterday yet in another lifetime, all at once. “He loves you, more than he’s ever loved anyone. Surely you know that.”

Stupid, you thought, how I might have believed it once.

As you made your way down the hall, numbness crept into your body once again. You were too proud to admit you were afraid, especially with the Section Commander’s radiating sympathy, but everyone knew the once friendly dynamic between you and the Captain transformed into one more distant and cold. With each step towards the door, you felt the icy chill grow and that fact alone shook you to the core.

But it didn’t matter, seeing as Levi was of superior authority. There was no way around it.

Your hand shook as it raised to knock.

~~~~~~

“Name and business,” Levi spoke, voice muffled by the closed door.

“It’s (Y/N), sir. I was hoping to speak with you.”

There was a pause, and in that time you considered the option of fleeing back to your room and retreating back to a life of emotional safety, normality. It wasn’t too late to forget.

It had been a week since you spoke to Mikasa on the rooftop, after realizing the deep shit your heart decided to put you in. You didn’t think Levi would notice the distracted nature of your behavior-- tried to make it as subtle as possible whilst you figured out what you felt for him.

But before you could explore other options, Levi muttered a stern “enter.” You knew with the first expedition back to Shiganshina tomorrow, and the prospect of death closer than it has ever been on a mission, it was now or never.

The room was dim, small, warm, and thick with building tension. Shadows danced across the Captain’s face, sharp features lit by an orange flame. Only candlelight, sourced at his desk, assisted your adjusting eyes.

Your nose was hit with the smell of tea and cleaning products upon entry. This fact made you smile despite your bundling nervous energy. It was a familiar place, filled with memories of late night conversations (granted, of mostly you speaking and him listening), witnessed only by the large piles of paperwork. It started here and resulted in a natural, growing fondness kept secret to all except you two and the moon looking in from the window.

This man was your squad leader, your commander, your trusted comrade. There was no need to be afraid-- Not unless of course, you held the potential to shatter such damn a delicate relationship.

And you did.

Was it worth it?

Your gaze gravitated towards the center of the room where the Lance Corporal sat. And in that instant, your smile evaporated instantly. He placed his pen down, gracefully resting his cheek on his fist and lazily tossing the raven locks out of his eyes-- they landed on you, piercing yet drowsy and indifferent upon first glance. He was beautiful, as always. The allure was nearly sickening; unfair to the rest of the world.

Looking closer, however, he was anything but relaxed. The observant eye could see his countenance stirred something different. He seemed sharp and focused, ready to dart out and wrap himself around your heart, squeezing tighter with every breath you took. And you felt it-- the heart palpitations, which got worse at the sight of him.

He seemed… different. Dangerous, like a storm stirring in the distance, and the inevitable downpour that comes with it. The dark circles under his eyes told tales about the insomnia; a fresh cup of caffeinated black tea even rested on his left, steam rising out of it. And whilst attraction was undeniable, your concern always came first.

Levi was never quite good at getting proper rest before a mission.

“(Y/N),” The word was breathy, yet his voice was rough.

You shuffled in your spot, your name on his tongue making your stomach churn with desire.

Levi seemed to pick up on your affliction, getting out of his chair and gliding towards you. Everything happened fast and slow all at once, starting off with a momentaneous rush of air and the collision of your back with the office wall. A small shriek filled the air, out of place against the silence; was that your voice? The pain should’ve been there, but it wasn’t.

Then the seconds dragged out. Levi was a new person, setting your skin aflame as he gripped your wrists and pinned them against the wall. His lips brushed your eartips, which turned red the instant the raven’s breath fanned over them. This normally reserved, disciplined man unleashed something you had never seen before.

“Finally ready to talk to me about why you’ve been acting so strange, brat?” he whispered.

This wasn’t supposed to be so dirty. He was angry, but the mood was established in layers: something more sinister existed beneath.

The scent of fresh pine filled your nostrils until your brain went foggy. Levi was close--so close, and with the fact that you’ve been avoiding him mixed in with the fact that you missed him for it, all bets were off: there was no stopping the words that came out of your mouth next.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” you whispered back, looking him dead in the eyes, no fear this time.

His grip on your wrist slackened.

“Hm?”

You took in a deep breath, ready to leave it all on the line, and spoke.

“I like you a lot, sir. And not in a comradery type of way. I-I just thought I’d tell you before, you know, we leave tomorrow.” Your gaze found the floor again, too timid for your own good. But the statement was said, and it was finite; there was no turning away from it.

The Captain’s eyes went wide and gleamed brightly at you. His chest felt lighter and as he looked down at you in speechless awe, staring at anything but his face in your adorable embarrassment, he realized exactly why your absent look irked him those days ago. Why your lack of enthusiasm and lighthearted-ness gave him a strange sense of frustration.

Levi never felt more awake, more hyper aware of his surroundings.

The feeling of your chest pressed against him, the heat of those rosy cheeks, the pounding within his ribcage, the moon hitting your pretty face. With your figure in his arms, after the blissful seconds passed, everything felt, for once, okay.

Until it wasn’t.

Gaining the courage to look back up at him, you all but tore apart at the scowl on his face as demons flitted through his beautiful brain and polluted the image of happiness. Levi grew more indignant by the second, all but throwing your arms he held back at your sides like they were poison to the touch.

Tears pooled in your eyes as the soft expression you didn’t get to see turned sour, disgusted-- the Captain’s lips curling into a snarl as he imagined what he could lose if he opened up his heart for this girl in front of him to take. The risk and pain of falling for someone, in the world the two of you lived in. And all the stoic man could think was how he allowed this charade to come so far.

No, he wouldn't allow it.

“Get out, (L/N)” he commanded, harsh and unforgiving.

You were trembling, body feeling detached from reality as it moved, convincing itself that it was simply a nightmare. Levi’s cruel demeanor all but shattered you as you looked wide-eyed and his anger grew, the short man pacing behind his desk and bringing a hand over his face. His free one crumpled into a fist, knuckles turning white as he slammed it on the wood, the loud bang making you jump; the fear, grief, confusion coming all at once until it choked you and your vision spotted black.

“I said GET OUT!”

The room stilled and Levi looked up to face you cowering near the door, a single tear rolling down your cheek. He stilled at the sight, the weight of his words dawning upon him.

“I-I’m sorry,” you gasped before racing out of the room.

Had you looked back, you would’ve seen Levi’s outstretched hand betraying his body, desperately reaching out for you, gray eyes filled with pain.

But you knew now you’d never be dumb enough to spare him that second glance-- and maybe that was the right call, seeing as his feet moved in the direction you left, only to shut the door left askew in your wake.

~~~

The Captain’s gaze was on you more than necessary, but it was clear the two of you had the same thought: You focused everything into this discussion, melting into the emotionally-detached soldier your duty commanded, just like Levi did. His words had no ulterior motive, no deeper meaning. They were monotonous and empty.

Or so you thought.

Levi stood up the second you came in, but your gaze fell to the ground in submission.

“Hange said you needed to see me, Captain?” your voice was small and weak; you kicked yourself for it. How pathetic.

“Damn you...”

The man said nothing more, brushing his fingers along your cheekbones and you everything hit you like whiplash, the memories. Levi ran them along your face, down to your chin to lift it gently, so that for once you’d let your eyes meet instead of looking at the ground like a coward.

When they did the man’s breath hitched in his throat, because although your (eye color) orbs were no longer as vibrant, they were still beautiful and entrancing; why hadn’t he ever appreciated them before?

"I missed you, brat," he spoke firmly.

You felt a churn in your abdomen as you watched his eyes study the details of your face and take in every feature, committing it to memory painfully slow. You were paralyzed, his face inches away from yours and forcing buried emotions to resurface as months of restraint came undone. He didn’t speak, holding you delicately after not being this close for far too long and discerning what he’s been missing.

“Um, Captain? What are you...?"

You bit your lip, feeling puzzled and confused as you remembered the hate in Levi's orbs the last time you saw him like this.

All you could see now was how quickly his emotions shifted from serenity to fury that fateful night, and as you recollected the way Levi lashed out, all chaos and fury, he retracted his hand.

And you flinched away.

The Captain froze.

“Don’t-- don’t fucking do that,” he growled, his urgency startling. “I would never hurt you, (Y/N).”

Your eyebrows furrowed, all inhibition thrown out the window the second Levi’s countenance flashed with hurt at your response to his touch. You let your fear go and emotions free at the irony of the raven’s statement. Your mind went into overdrive, recounting every instance you wanted to give up and leave, drown in yourself, give up on finding purpose in the aftermath of rejection and Squad Levi’s death and your permanent injury changing your way of life. Things you faced alone, because instead of rekindling any semblance of a relationship, Levi tossed everything away and berated you for feeling.

The man who resided here cut your heart expertisely like the countless swords he wielded then disposed. He did not have the right to look at you so kindly; did not have to right to fan the flames of false hope. But here he was, procrastinating until the very last day to take initiative regarding those actions.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered, forgetting your composure.

“I’d advise you not to speak in riddles,” Levi spoke in a low and even voice, no real malice as he addressed you and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You took a deep breath and fought to remain calm, grabbing Levi's wrist to keep him from touching you.

“Please don’t toy with me, or mock my feelings like this. Why did you call me here? You made it plenty clear how you feel about me, Levi. What else is there to say?" you begged, the lack of closure driving you insane.

This was the first time you used his name, an unprecedented amount of spite and pain expressed through it, because you wanted Levi to remember this moment. It was over: that time of feeling sorry and ashamed of yourself for being nothing other than human. The remorse was gone, and the heartache was fleeting.

“Tell me, dammit!”

His was overflowing.

“You want to know how I really feel about you, (Y/N)!?” the Captain shouted, voice rising because for a man who relied on impulse and action on the battlefield it was fucking frustrating, watching the woman in front of him live this way for the simple reason that he was not good with words. "The thoughts that go through my head when you can't even bear to look at me?!"

"No, that's not what I asked. I already know that you don't--"

"--Fuck this."

Relying on instinct to guide him, Levi leaned forward and kissed you.

The second his lips met yours, you melted on the spot, knees giving out beneath you. Tongue sliding into your mouth, Levi simultaneously lifted you into the air, feeling lightheaded as you moaned into him, eagerly returning the kiss. His hands were everywhere, grasping at your waist, clutching the back of your head, running down your thighs. You were in such a state of euphoria that nothing else existed.

Your own digits threaded through Levi’s raven locks and pulled needily, emitting a growl from his throat as he bit down on your lower lip. He reveled in the feeling of your legs around his waist as your soft lips worked against his own, hungry and relentless. The kiss was passionate and you’d imagined it a million times over, but this-- Levi successfully ruined you for any other man.

The need for oxygen pulled you apart, Levi’s strong arms keeping you in the air as his eyes remained shut; he pecked your lips once, then twice, savoring the moment until it mournfully passed.

He was hesitant to break the silence, but you deserved it. You waited long enough to hear the truth, and he knew his time was running out; you weren’t going to wait for him forever.

“(Y/N)...” he began to speak, forehead resting on yours as he panted softly to catch his breath. “I dreamt of you last night. I have been for days.”

“Levi--”

“--Just listen,” he interrupted, unable to stop himself from kissing you softly once more. “Neither of us are running away this time.”

You fell silent as the man let you down, pulling you into his solid chest as you buried your face in his shirt, patiently listening. His calm heartbeat thrummed soothingly in your ears like a metronome.

“Isabel, Farlan, Oluo, Petra, Gunther, Eld. They all knew that what they meant to me. And I them."

One of the only things that made it easier to say goodbye, you thought with a bittersweet pang in your chest.

"With us, it's different. I died in every dream, (Y/N). Every one. And in every single one, you lived on believing I never loved you. Call me selfish, but I...”

You pulled away from the stoic man, searching his gaze as he trailed off. Shyly, you interlaced your fingers, his larger hand enveloping yours and you prayed to whoever was listening upstairs that all of this was real.

“I just can't leave until you understand...”

He clutched you impossibly tighter, eyes squeezing shut.

"...that you, are everything."

~~~ Extended Ending ~~~

A soft hum filled the air, the tune dreamy and sweet as you repeated the melody once again. You smiled warmly as hands wound around your waist, pulling you closer to a toned and shirtless Captain Levi, silken sheets tossed haphazardly on top of the two of you. His breath sent goosebumps on your neck as he kissed your shoulder gently, warmth deliciously intoxicating.

Giggling now, you turned around to face him, the man’s onyx hair ticking you softly. You captured your lips in his with one smooth movement and snuggled closer, taking in the small slice of heaven that was home in his arms, legs tangled together. Feeling unbelievably content, like your heart might burst, you leaned forward and rubbed your nose against Levi's.

Although he wasn't smiling, the look he was giving you revealed his own sensation of happiness.

“I never thought you’d be the cuddling type,” you remarked devilishly, scrunching up your nose as you teased him.

Though your tone was lighthearted, you were painfully aware that the moment was ending. You internally cursed the sun as it started to set, orange light peeking in through the window shades to signal the coming of night. Levi said nothing, looking deeply into your eyes, and like always, it felt as if he could read the contents of your soul.

But it wasn’t vulnerability you felt: on the contrary, you knew you would never find as safe a place as here. With him. Finally.

“Levi...” you swallowed, humor all but gone. “Now you have to come home.”

To emphasize your point you sat up on the bed, legs tucked neatly underneath you as you stared imperatively at your lover.

“Mhm. We’ve wasted enough time,” he agreed, taking you by the wrist to pull you back on top of him, to bask in this personal paradise if only for another minute.

#levi ackerman x reader #lance corporal levi #LEVI ACKERMAN #snk #shingeki no kyojin #AoT #attack on titan #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan x reader #snk imagines #Captain Levi #snk season 3 #aot x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman imagine

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thewickedkings · 4 years

Text

Tell Me What You’re Thinking ~Part 2~

Part 1 || Masterlist

A/N: You asked for part two, and you shall receive. If you haven’t read part one, it’s linked above! This may or may not be more than two thousand words, but I couldn’t help myself. I really wanted to explore Jude and Cardan’s struggles and insecurities in their relationship post QON. Hope you guys like it :)))

Trigger Warnings: Mild Cursing (Let me know if there is anything I missed)

~~~

Jude wraps her hands around the warm tea Vivi made for her.

Vivi watches her expectantly. “So?”

Jude sighs. “Just… give me a second. I need to think.”

Vivi nods and moves to clear away the dishes drying next to the sink.

“Cardan and I got into a fight.”

Vivi snorts. “No shit.”

Jude massages her temples. “I know, but I think I really messed things up. God, I’m so stupid.”

Vivi doesn’t say anything, waiting Jude out.

“I- I just, I don’t know how to tell him things, things that are messing with my head, you know? And he could tell I was being distant, and I hurt him.” Jude squeezes her eyes shut.

“You aren’t the best at communication,” Vivi hedges. She looks up, eyes searching Jude’s face. “What couldn’t you tell him?” she says slowly.

Jude’s neck heats up, and she sips her tea to avoid the question.

But maybe if she can tell Vivi, it will be easier to tell Cardan. “The people, they’re talking about a-” Jude clears her throat. “An heir.”

Vivi’s face softens in understanding. “And what exactly about that is bothering you?”

Jude swallows. “I don’t even know if I want kids yet.” She pauses. “But if- if there were to be an heir, it would be half-mortal.”

Her skin feels tight, the fierce urge to flee and protect herself running through her at the confession. She forces herself to push through, staring intensely at her tea.

Her voice is rough. “It would destabilize the rule. You know how the fae are, they wouldn’t take the heir seriously with mortal blood running through his veins.”

Vivi finishes drying the dishes and pulls out the chair across from her. “Jude, you are their queen. If they have a problem with that, put them in their place.” She pushes a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. “That’s not the issue though, is it? At least not why you can’t talk to him about it.”

Jude takes a sip from her tea, studiously avoiding a response.

“Jude, if you don’t talk to anyone about it, you won’t be able to move forward.”

Jude’s hands clench around her mug. “I know.” Her voice lowers, barely a whisper. “What if he doesn’t want a half-mortal child?”

Vivi’s voice hardens. “Then screw him. But Jude, if there’s anything I’ve learned from seeing the way he is with you, that won’t matter to him.”

“You don’t know how he was, before. He always brought up how mortal, how weak I was. I know he’s changed, I know that, but I still-” Her voice breaks.

Vivi sighs. “Jude, this is something you have to talk to him about it. You can’t just keep avoiding it like you always do. Trust me, I know. You’ll just hurt both of yourselves.”

“How?” Jude rasps. “How do I tell him that?”

“Just like you did. I know it’s hard, but it will be better after you do.”

“But he was so angry. He couldn’t even look at me. What if he’s still mad?”

“He was mad because you weren’t talking to him. I can see how much he loves you, and you probably hurt him. You have to at least talk to him. You owe him that.”

Jude nods, shutting her eyes and letting out a soft breath. “Okay.” She gets up, her motions jerky. “I need to- I need to go. I need to tell him.”

Vivi puts an hand on Jude’s shoulder. “You need some rest. I know you feel like you should go, but you should get some rest before you figure this out.” Vivi gently tugs Jude into the living room and onto the couch. Jude is too exhausted, both emotionally and physically, to protest. Vivi pulls a blanket over Jude, her hand resting on her shoulder for a beat longer than normal.

Before she’s pulled into the welcoming tendrils of sleep, Jude reaches her hand out, fingers grasping Vivi’s arm. “Thank you. For helping me.” She falls asleep before she hears Vivi’s response.

~~~

When Jude returns to the palace, something immediately feels off. The flowers outside the palace are wilted, and prickly vines have encased the walls. The air is taut with tension, and Jude hugs her cloak around her.

Instinctively, she knows Cardan will be in the throne room. But instead, she makes her way in the opposite direction to their chambers to wait for him. It seems fitting, to work through this where it started. She gets ready for bed and slips into the blankets, picking up a book to distract her thoughts as she waits.

When Cardan returns to their rooms, it is late. The telling glaze of alcohol is absent from his eyes, yet Jude gets the sense that he had drunk after she left. He pulls off his intricate doublet, leaving only the undershirt beneath, exhaustion marring his actions.

She resists the urge to wrap her arms around him and rest her head in the junction between his neck and shoulder, to relieve some of the burden she had placed on him. He gages her wearily, opting to sit on the armchair next to the fire. He remains silent, and Jude realizes he is waiting for her to speak.

Jude moves to the chair across him. “Cardan, I’m sorry.”

He barks out a laugh, sudden against the steady crackle of the fireplace. “For what?”

“You were right. I was being distant. I wasn’t telling you things.”

His jaw ticks. “I know I was right.”

He has every right to be angry at her. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to-” Jude shrugs helplessly, “I want to try to be better. I know I’m not the best at showing it, but I love you.”

Cardan swallows. His gaze is trained on the fire, shadows jumping across the smooth planes of his face. “You left.”

“I was scared.” She says, her voice small. “Sometimes it’s easier for me to go back to hiding.”

Cardan finally turns to look at her. The vulnerability, the openness in his eyes, even after everything she said to hurt him, rocks her. Despite everything, he is still trying with her. And she… well, she had run away at the first sign of trouble.

Jude reaches out hesitantly for his hand, and Cardan doesn’t pull away. She wraps her fingers around his, and Jude’s words stumble out. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I lied. The break was a lie.”

Cardan sighs, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “I want this to work, Jude. But you have to talk to me.”

“I know,” she says, voice small.

“I know what I want. What is it that you want?” Jude opens her mouth to respond, but Cardan continues. “I cannot… I cannot keep playing these games with you. If you do not want this, then tell me and leave me in my misery. Do not give me hope.”

He rises from his chair and gets on his knees in front of her, clutching her hands between his, his palms warm against hers. His eyes are gazing into her with determination. “You must know I want this future with you Jude. I want everything with you, everything I never thought I could have. You must know...” His voice changes then, something a little like yearning slipping in. “You must know that I want to spend my whole life with you, even have a family with you, if you’d want that.”

Jude flinches slightly, and Cardan catches it.

His gaze roves over her, assessing. “You do not want children?” he says slowly.

“No, that’s not what I… I don’t know Cardan.”

His jaw clenches. “You do not want children with me.”

“Cardan, that’s not what this is about.”

His voice softens, a tinge desperation sifting through. “Then tell me, Jude. What is it? Let me in.” In this moment, he is not the High King of Elfhame. He is her husband.

Jude tightens her grip on his hands and averts her gaze, unable to look Cardan in the eye as she lays herself bare. “The people- they are talking about an heir.” She feels completely and utterly foolish, yet she continues, forcing the words out. “And if we were to have an heir… it would be half mortal. If you do not want that, I understand. It would be smarter for the kingdom, and the people…” Her voice trails off.

Cardan’s hand reaches up to gently cup her cheek. “Jude, look at me.”

She grudgingly lets her gaze return to his, something inside her feeling scraped raw.

“I do not care that our child would have mortal blood. Mortal blood does not make you weaker. You are the strongest person I have ever known, and you are a mortal.” He pauses, his next words tentative. “I know… I know I have said things in the past, but Jude, believe me.” He presses a kiss to her knuckles. “If you wanted a child, with me, I would be the happiest man alive.”

Jude feels as though the weight of mountains has been lifted off her shoulders. Some irrational part of her thought that he would prefer to have children with one of the fae, all her old insecurities still lingering inside her despite everything.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay.”

Cardan‘s next words are hesitant. “So that is what this was about?”

She nods, a little ashamed. “What did you think?”

His jaw clenches, and his eyes focus on the wall behind her. He removes his hands from hers and gets up, turning his back to her as he fidgets with papers on the desk. She waits, letting him gather his thoughts. His next words are quick, as though he forced them out. “I assumed you didn’t want me anymore.”

She opens her mouth to protest and then shuts it. It’s his turn to speak. She knows that no matter how irrational his thoughts may seem to her, they are there and it isn’t her place to dismiss them.

His speaks in a rasp. “I think I’ve been waiting for you to leave, because that is how it has always been with me. Why would you want to stay, when you can do so much better?”

Jude’s thoughts start piecing together what he’s saying. His mom, his dad, even Nicasia. They all left him eventually or didn’t even want him in the first place. Something inside her breaks knowing that she had done what everyone else in his life had. Yesterday, he had told her to leave before she could leave him, protecting himself in a way. And she had listened, like an idiot.

The way he gotten on his knees in front of her, telling her how much he wanted her, suddenly made sense. He was genuinely scared she was going to leave.

Jude moves towards Cardan and slowly wraps her arms around him, leaning forward so her head rests against his chest. He shudders and sags against her, his breath warm against her hair. His arms grip her like she’ll disappear if he lets go. The fierce urge to ward him from any evil overtakes her, to keep him here in her arms forever.

“Cardan,” she whispers, pulling back and pressing her forehead against his. “I’m not going to leave. I’m staying right here with you. You are better than anything, anything I could have hoped for.”

His dark eyes bore into hers, searching for the lie. When he finds none, his palms reach out to cup her face, and then he kisses her softly, so softly. She sighs and tangles her hands in his curls, kissing him deeper.

The connection between them, the string that has always been pulling them towards each other, strengthens until it’s almost tangible, an ethereal soft glow. The prickly vines that had grown around the edges of the room begin to soften, jasmines blooming on the stems, their soft scent wafting around them.

And Jude knows, in that moment, that what they have is irreplaceable, the love between them is more valuable than anything in her life. She cannot let him think he is undeserving, that she does not want him.

“You deserve to be loved, Cardan. You do. More than anyone. And- and- falling in love with you is the best thing that could ever happen to me.”

He smiles softly against her lips. “Your love is the greatest treasure I possess,” he murmurs. He pulls back and gazes at her, as if to commit this moment to memory. Slowly, his grin turns playful as his hand reaches for hers and pulls her with him as he walks backwards to the bed. “You are my greatest treasure. And I would very much like to cuddle with my treasure.”

She giggles, stumbling into his warm chest. “Treasure? That’s new.” The seriousness of the moment fades into this, this wonderful thing between them as he pulls her onto bed and into his arms and peppers her face with kisses.

He pulls back teasingly. “Is it not to your liking? I have several others.”

“Hmmm, I guess I’ll have to hear them.”

Cardan presses his lips to her jaw, whispering against her skin. “My sweet villain.” His lips move to her nose. “My darling wife.” To her cheek. “My love.” And finally, finally, to her lips.

Thank you for reading!! If you have sent me a prompt, I have them written, I just have to edit! Thank you so much for your patience <3

Tagging:

@jurdan7 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woodsbeyond1 @st00pid231 @thefolkofthefic @alittledribbledrabble @nomotivation-lads @afexiss @herladyshipxx @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @fandomfanatic987 @judiecardan

Let me know if you’ve liked to be added to my general tfota tag list! (It’s separate from my Between the Two of Us tag list, just FYI)

#tell me what you're thinking #part 2 #wow i actually wrote something #jurdan #jurdan fanfic #tfota #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #jurdan angst #jurdan fluff

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fe-sekai · 3 years

Text

Fire Emblem: Sekai - what ive got so far

this is in regards to my fire emblem/project sekai au that as of right now is some drawings and 1 chapter of a badly written fic, however that may change in time so i'll keep this specific post updated as i come up with stuff

i was inspired by this fic which im unsure if the author is on tumblr at all, but if i find their username i'll link it too

the basic premise is that Ichika is a lord, and Mafuyu is the antagonist you would see most often, and the rest of the groups are all playable units with different classes and roles in the story. From thar reference point i kept going. Im approaching this as if it were an actual fire emblem game, but not like a New Entry or anything, maybe like a hand-held inbetween the gba games and awakening. I'm mostly borrowing from sacred stones, awakening and fates, maybe with a little shadows of valentia sprinkled in, but i think you'll see a lot more of awakening in this whole thing bc its the one i played the most. Im not really familiar with 3 houses so i wont try to incorporate things from it unless its like a staple of the fe franchise

of course anyone is free to send me asks of things they feel might fit with what ive got going on, so the askbox is open¡¡

to give you an overview of what this is looking like, im gonna go character by character, starting with the bands, then secondary characters, and finally original characters, with a quick description of what i think their role is and their class. I'm skipping the virtual singers right now because its the group im the least sure about their role in the story, and i think they're a bit scattered, so im gonna try and make a follow-up later.

LEO/NEED

Ichika: The heir of her kingdom, the lord whose story you follow. The future of the land rests on her shoulders. She has a peculiar fighting style in which her evasiveness is pretty flawless, and she has a lot of stamina, but she overthinks the retaliation, and that gets her into trouble. She is orphaned in like the middle of the story when it all breaks down, and i think that'd be the catalyst for her to take a less defensive approach so you would see more of the continent after that. She tries her best to be very serious but still has a child-like side to her that comes out mostly with her childhood friends (saki, honami and shiho, ofc). Her stats would be quite balanced for the most part, but her speed and skill are pretty high.

Saki: the daughter of one of ichika's tutors, she lives in the castle with her family because of an arrangement her mother had with the king and queen, so Saki could be treated by the best healers of the land. At the time of the story, she just got healthy enough to be out on missions and such. She is training to be a mage, and has a lot of magic potential, but has very little hp and defense, but her resistance is a lot better

Honami: daughter of a noble, also frequents the castle, for education in her case. Ichika has more lessons than her, but they share most of them. She is a healer who has decent hp, and a very high skill so she is very accurate once she promotes to a more offensive class.

Shiho: daughter of an important general, trains with Ichika everyday and is her rival. She has never been able to beat Ichika when they train, and gets really frustrated with her when she is in full dodge mode. She is a fighter, and has a lot of strength and would be very good at hittting crits, but her defense is lacking.

MORE MORE JUMP!

Minori: a girl living in a small village in Ichika's country, with dreams of becoming a sword fighter and defending the weak, bringing smiles to everyone. She has a history of actually trying to defend her village but more often than not someone has to go rescue her. She's the Kliff archetype (like donnel from fe13 or mozu from fe14), so she would start with low stats but eventually would be a pretty powerful unit. For her promotion, i'm thinking swordsman and pegasus knight to be her possible branches, maybe even fighter or armor knight, but i think she would have low magic so i dont think she would have any magical branches.

Haruka: she is a former pegasus knight, that after an accident which led to her pegasus to be flightless, decided to quit the order. She then takes up mercenary work, being a sword fighter. She meets Minori while at work and Haruka kind of takes her under her wing after rescuing her. She's very balanced, and has a lot of hp so she would be a bit of a wall, one of those units that weakens the enemy for someone else to take the exp.

Airi: wyvern rider, was good friends with Haruka before she quit. Originally she wanted to be a pegasus knight, but it turns out wyverns are the only animals she isn't terribly allergic to. Her wyvern's name is Cherche. Her defense would be very high, but she would have bad luck.

Shizuku: the model pegasus knight. She's the best of the knights in training, and everyone there admires her. She is good friends with Airi, but has to be careful not to bring with her any stray feathers with her by accident, but sometimes she keeps them on purpose as a joke. Her speed would be pretty high up, and she would have a lot of magic potential.

VIVID BAD SQUAD

Kohane: her parents are usually very supportive, but she was only allowed to learn how to fight if she had the most protection available, so she is an armor knight! her head doesn't quite reach the helmet in the armor suit, so its very easy to knock it off, wich would turn into a rumour that Ichika's army has a headless knight, a creature that defies death. As a typical armor knight she has super high defense, and is very slow, but has an outstanding luck.

An: the daughter of a very famous mercenary, Ken, that finds herself living in the castle after her father suddenly retired to work in training new recruits for Ichika's army. She meets Kohane on a random spar they did, and instantly decided they had to train together from then on. An is a cavalier and wields a lance, and has pretty bad magic resistance. She is one half of the cain/able archetype.

Akito: a cavalier who is very excited to train under Ken. His origins are pretty unknown, but he has lived and worked in the castle since he was a kid. He is the other half of the cain/able archetype, and wields a sword. Has more magic resistance and magic potential than An.

Toya: the son of a very well respected mage. He does show talent for magic, probably more than his father, but thinks he is better suited for the fighter class. His father of course doesn't like it, but Toya goes on to train to be a fighter anyways, so their relationship is strained. He hangs out with Akito a lot in th castle. He has a remarkable magic resistance for a fighter and a higher mag than normal, so he'd be very good with a bolt axe (maybe he even promotes to a healer unit like a war monk from fe13)

WONDERLANDS X SHOWTIME

Tsukasa: a pegasus knight, like his father before him, determined to be the best knight of them all, known by all and written about so that his adventures prevail. In his very first solo mission he is hit by a storm and lands in a deserted island, and is rescued by a little pirate who annoys him a lot, but joins her noble cause. He's particularly strong for a pegasus knight, sacrificing a bit of his speed. He also has a talent for magic but not very much, however it does give him decent magic resistance.

Emu: a little pirate who escaped her evil pirate father once her nice pirate grandfather passed away. She was followed by 2 guards her grandfather had tasked with her safety before his death and is now roaming the seas, looking for more crew for her little ship so they can defend innocents! look I just really like pirates in fire emblem, i love that they look so goofy and that they swim so good they can fight in water. Emu would have decent defense and strength, but she wouldnt be very accurate, and i want her to have her own hammer, just for fun, and it would help her accuracy. She's the only one who can wield it because its very easy to disassemble it by accident.

Nene: an aspiring actress and songstress, the very first person Emu and Tsukasa rescue after their alliance. She joins them on the premise of "these guys are gonna die if i dont help them" but its mostly because she has so much fun with them and wants to help their cause. She is the dancer unit of the game, and she uses magic to attack. She would be very frail for the most part, but would be a very good magic tank if you trained her right.

Rui: wyvern rider from Mafuyu's country. He is recruited later in the game, about halfway, and you can only recruit him if Tsukasa, Nene and Emu talk to him. He is very inventive and is working with mixing magic and mechanical systems, with some small success so far, and is this ability that Mafuyu recruited him for. As for stats, he would be very phisically strong, and have very high mag for a wyvern rider, but not much in the defense or resistance. He would be very evasive however, and have very high crit chances.

NIGHTCORD AT 25:00

Kanade: she is a healer for the group who also uses magic. She lives in Mafuyu's country, and they have meetings to help Yuki, who they don't know is the princess of the country, develop some new tecnologies, mixing magic with mechanics, to help people in need, or so they all think. She was trained by Yuki but she has a natural talent for magic and healing. She would have low defense, she would be best used at a distance.

Mafuyu: as Mafuyu she is the princess of her country, but her parents are very secretive about her so the people don't really know what she looks like. As Yuki she brings a group together to help her innovate and invent things behind her parents back. She also has their group do skirmishes with the people of Ichika's country. She is trying to tap into the power of one dragon god using machines made with Rui's help, but she tells them all it's for the good of the country's less fortunate. She is a bow knight, with low-ish defense but very high speed and accuracy.

Ena: Akito's sister who got left behind when he ran away from the country when they were little. A dark mage, with a lot of potential, but is overshadowed by her family who is known to be very graceful and powerful group of dark mages. Yuki trains her to be more agressive in a way her family never would, it makes her magic all the more brutal. Very high magic, very high resistance, a bit higher strength than normal for a dark mage.

Mizuki: a wyvern rider who wields tomes and axes. They taught themself to wield the axe but Yuki taught them magic and attacking from a distance. They're the second most accurate of the group after Yuki, and they're the only one to take chances to attack upclose. They're the only one close to their family. They would be better with magic than with axes, and they have a better resistance than they do defense.

oof,,,, that was A Lot,,,, anyway

SECONDARY CHARACTERS

(what i mean by that is that they're secondary or mentioned in project sekai but would be playable/featured in the au)

Ken: in charge of training new recruits, retired from mercenary work because he sensed a war was coming, and he wanted to help the king and queen as much as he could. His class would be mercenary and he would be kind of a Jagen, but with a longer usefulness like Frederick from fe13.

Saki and Tsukasa's mom: she is Ichika's music and dance tutor, and honami's magic tutor, and an old friend of the king and queen. She is a talented mage, and a playable character later on. Well-rounded, defense stronger than normal.

Saki and Tsukasa's dad: a retired falcon knight, who works in the castle's stables and training recruits from time to time. He inspired Tsukasa to become a pegasus knight himself. NPC, but is featured in the plot at some points.

Mafuyu's mom: the queen of the country neighboring Ichika's. She is blind and wears a blindfold. Seemingly very sweet and loving but is quite ruthless in her rule, very strict and with a rigid class system. NPC, maybe final boss.

Ichika's mom: queen of the country, a warrior first and queen second. Not much of a diplomat, but is very honest. She would have her own class, and would wield a lance. At the beginning she seems like the most powerful unit so its shocking when she is killed.

Ichika's dad: king of the country, very soft spoken and kind, has a way of finding common ground with just about anyone. Has his own class, wields tomes and staffs. He has less defense so once his wife is killed he is pretty much done for.

(i kinda want ichika to be able to promote to either queen or king)

toya's dad: a bit of a magical jagen, but you get him on the later half of the game. super high magic stat, but not much growth rate.

Emu's dad: a minor boss in the first half of the game. You confiscate his ship to sail to another land and if Emu defeats him there is special dialogue.

Emu's siblings: they're all crew members and if Emu fights them, they all have special dialogue with her. Theyre mean to her ):

Kanade's dad: has some illness that Kanade is trying her best to train to cure while she works with Yuki and everyone else.

for now thats all i have, but as i play i might add some other secondary proseka characters.

now onto

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

(these are characters that are not really mentioned in project sekai as far as i can tell, so i took the liberty to give them roles, because a cast of teens is not enough for a fire emblem game)

Kigu and Rumi: siblings who worked for Emu's grandfather in his ship, tasked with Emu's safety after his passing. They're both pirates and have pretty similar stats, only one has more strength and skill and the other more defense and hp. They practically raised Emu alongside her grandfather.

Nene's mom: a scholar and the closest thing to a doctor youre gonna find, doesn't use magic at all. Also very interested in mechanical and wind-up machinery. Her class would be mechanist, like in fe14, but it would be more western i think.

Nene's dad: a tailor and a mage, makes clothes for his beautiful wife who has trouble finding clothes that fit her body right, and also does it for himself, since he has the same problem. Well rounded, not much potential but can be promoted and branched out.

this is all i have for now, but im gonna look into siblings and such of other characters, since a lot of them, like minori and airi, have siblings that are only mentioned, so i could maybe do something with that, but thats gonna come later.

as i mentioned before, if you think of an idea id be happy to incorporate it or discuss it, and even if i end up thinking it wouldnt fit, id still like to read about it, and if you feel like im totally wrong, feel free to make your very own fire emblem project sekai au!! i'd love to see it :D

i dont know if anyone will actually read this far down, but if you did, thank you! I really appreciate it! i hope you have a nice day!

#project sekai colorful stage #hatsune miku colorful stage #au #proseka au #fire emblem au #fire emblem sekai #written #long post

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trashcatsnark · 3 years

Note

I'm glad you liked my AU, I was kinda nervous that I'm bothering you ':D 1. V is of course allowed to stay with the Aldecaldos with no problems, since they're already a part of the family, but Johnny is only allowed to stay if he 1. will work on jobs with them to earn his keep 2. will do different chores around the camp 3. will behave; he starts a fight or something like that and he's out. Johnny is determined to be on his best behavior so that he's allowed to stay and look after V. After what they've been through together, he couldn't bear to be split from them again, especially not over something so stupid like starting a brawl. 2. He doesn't really socialise much, he's too focused on V. Aldecaldos tolerate him, but he can feel that they are a bit uneasy around him, and he can't really blame them, he's a man who died 50 years ago and was brought back to life, not exactly something you see every day (though I'd imagine they'd warm up to eachother after a post-gig bonfire, with Johnny showing off his guitar chops). 3. Johnny and V live in the same van, of course. Graciously donated by the Aldecaldos, it's their new home and mode of transport when the caravan moves. It's a bit small, but it's managable and slowly starts to fill out with different trinkets, items, postcards and photos from their travels. They usually sit on the steps in the mornings and sometimes look at the starry sky on the roof in the evenings. 4. If V feels good enough to leave the van, Johnny is always near, like a shadow. Just a local oddity, a merc who died and came back to life twice and a world-famous terrorist rockerboy that now watches over them in pretty much complete silence and a permanent scowl on his face, nbd. 5. Johnny usually keeps his hair tied, partially because it's more practical and he hates having a swety neck, and partially because it fucks with his facial features and he's harder to recognise by bystanders like cashiers. 6. V is in no condition to drive, so Johnn usually does it when the caravan has to move. V either chats with him to keep him company, reads him books or screamsheets out loud or does crossword puzzles with him. 7. Johnny sometimes missess the fact that he can no longer feel what V is feeling, mostly because it would make the whole "caretaking" thing much easier for him, just letting him know what V needs without words. Now he actually has to guess or ask, and he doesn't know which is harder. He looks at V and feels like he should be able to do more for them, but he has no idea what that more would actually be.

Firstly, never worry about bothering, I absolutely adore how many asks and messages I’ve been getting lately! I may be slow to reply sometimes but I’m honestly just am really happy to see people wanting to read my dumbass replies, if anything I worry about giving bad replies since I am the “queen of fuckups” as Johnny has so elegantly dubbed me and my V before.

Ahhhh, I love it so much, firstly I love bitchface Johnny always lurking over V because he’s a protective heathen. V just has to be like, yeah, no he’s really a sweetie though...well, okay no he’s kinda an asshole, but like he’s my asshole so it’s fine. And the rule of Johnny, please behave, and he’d try so hard but you know there’s a part of him that’s always like that son of a bitch looked at V the wrong way and i want to punch him but god damn it, i cannot and will sit here consumed with internal rage for the rest of the night

Also ponytail Johnny owns my whole soul. my V wakes up to him in sweatpants and hair in a ponytail once and is like shit I died and gone to heaven. I like to imagine if anyone still is ever like wait... “are you Johnny Silverhand?” he just gives a completely vague non-committal response of like “who knows.” (I also love ideas of him being like Tony Hawk in that he’s never fully recognized or people assuming he’s some fanatic who just runs around dressed like Johnny Silverhand like Elvis Imposters or him more often being confused for Keanu Reeves since he exists in universe)

Johnny pulling a here’s Wonderwall at the campfire just for the joke of it, sometimes when he’s in a really good mood he’ll take requests (tho mostly just V’s, if anyone really for sure wants to hear him play something specific they know to ask V to ask for it)

Living in a van, I imagine it majorllllly reminds Johnny of band days, touring, he’ll tell V all his stories of living in a van with Kerry, Henry, Denny, and Nancy for months at time. Having to listen to Henry and Denny fight the entire damn time, nearly puking when they’d had to listen to the two make up. Nancy losing her mind trying to reign in her feral children of bandmates, at times just choosing to drive instead of stay in the bus because you can handle so much. Kerry constantly stealing Johnny’s pants. Johnny bringing people back to the bus and later getting yelled at because he inevitably left...evidence of it on something that didn’t belong to him. (sometimes accidentally and other times, well, Kerry deserved it) Having to share a bathroom with them all and threatening to piss on Kerry’s bed if he didn’t hurry it the fuck up. He has a billion stories, that he knows V already knows, but they still wanna hear em, so why not.

I also fucking live for Johnny and V just hating the fact they aren’t linked the way they were before. They actually have to talk, god the horror. I definitely imagine my Johnny and V following the separation occasionally find themselves having to tell the other person “we have to use our big girl/boy/person words, now” They’ll catch the other staring off into the distance and be like “you just were trying to talk to me through your mind rn werent you?” or V will be thinking things to Johnny and be like “why are you ignoring me???? wAIT I HAVE TO TALK” They feel this distance that they never knew existed before.

I know in your AU V probably wouldn’t be up for it, but when they would be or any V and Johnny with nomads verse; part of me feels like Johnny would be torn on wanting to pilot the Basilisk with V. Because half of him is worried about the claustrophobia of it, he hates cramped dark, closed in places. But fuck fuck fuck, he wants that neurological link with V. He wants it. And if they do it, he’ll feel so at peace that he finally has his person back in the deepest sense of it, that he forgets all about being stuck in that coffin.

I also majorly think, while not as severe as the one between the twins in the beat on the brat fights; they don’t wanna be the same person. But they do want some form of neural synchronization implants. I imagine they might have something where they can read each others minds, it do be the future, just something that lets them always feel connected. Vik looks at them like they’re stupid, you fought to be separated and now you just wanna climb back into each other’s head.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #johnny silverhand #silverv #Anonymous

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mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune · 3 years

Text

Deltarune Chapter 2 Had Out Awesome Undertale

on September 21, 2021 I beat Chapter 2 of Deltarune.

(also possible spoilers in this, so please only read this if you have beaten Chapter 2 of Deltarune.)

it took me maybe a few days, but I finally got around to beating it. I hope no one take this the wrong way, but I think that Deltarune Chapter 2 has out-awesomed Undertale,

I still love Undertale but Deltarune's Chapter 2 is very....epic. (well I think is, and it's okay that not everyone agrees that it is more epic than Undertale.)

sure I had a little trouble here and there, but it turned out to be really fun and I do plan to play Chapter 2 again.

but starting with Chapter 1 first then working up to Chapter 2.

I'm glad I was able to play it, it seems you have to beat Deltarune-Chapter 1 first before you can play the Deltarune Chapter 1&2.

yes at first because I wasn't able to play the Chapter 2 at first, I decided to watch a walkthrough of it.....which I was only able to watch the next day.

but playing it myself was more fun and it really was awesome, it might take a few years (maybe either two or three.) until Chapter 3 comes out,

but it will be worth the wait.

don't know who Mike is though, unless it's Mike from FNAF lol......

can't be the Mike in the Undertale's Credits....must be a different Mike.

maybe we will learn more about Mike from Deltarune in the future.

also I can't help but think that Kris might be the Knight, and they have this dark side to them and the one that Susie is truly making friends with

is the Player, who is the new "Kris" and keeping the Old-Kris's dark side in check so they don't do anything too dangerous....maybe?

I believe I know why I am not able to play Undertale Fan Game, Kissy Cutie.

it might have to do with it being how I couldn't play Deltarune Chapter 1&2, until I beat Deltarune Chapter 1 in the original.

it was a new save in the original, so it was good that beat that and then tried to open up the Deltarune Chapter 1&2 again.

and to my surprise the game started to play without that blue pop-up message.

I'm not sure if it is right, that the Kissy Cutie game will start to play normal after you beat the Undertale and get the happy ending.

but I guess I could try to see if that works.

I need to say this about Noelle from Deltarune..........

the whole Yandere-Noelle might be canon.....

just like how the Pie that Kris eats is canon, so must be the Yandere-Noelle.

also I think Catti either loves Noelle as just a friend or she might have a crush on her and sees Susie as a rival.

my headcanon is that Catti has a crush on Noelle and she sees Susie as her rival.

I don't know how many players have scooted Lancer to the table after he got turned to stone....

I do not know if Lancer ate the spaghetti or not, but I know when I did go back to that room (before facing Queen)......

the spaghetti was gone, and the stone Lancer was still at the table too.

there is a reason why I think Yandere-Noelle is canon......but maybe not as deadly.....unless we end up going down a Geno-Route.

I really hope to go down the Weird Route, Weird Route For Life.

Weirdness Is Magic!

I plan to play the Deltarune Chapter 1 & 2 version from the very beginning,

and work my way back to Chapter 2.

also while playing Undertale, I got this theory that pop into my head

that the two figures that Frisk and Alphys see when they are about ready to go face Mettaton.

my theory is that the two shadow figures they first see, aren’t the monsters that Frisk faces....

but it turning out to be Kris and Susie, who’s adventure might be in the Undertale Chapter of Deltarune......I guess that theory might be a bit crazy

and it is not likely to happen.

but I think there could be a possibility of Undertale appearing in Deltarune,

as a future Chapter, and there being a side story within the Undertale Chapter within Deltarune, and in the Undertale Chapter we do not have control of Frisk.

but we still hold some control over Kris, and it could turn out that in the Undertale Chapter, Frisk is on their Geno-Run and this time it isn’t the Player that is making them do it.....because in that Chapter we aren’t in control of Frisk and Chara isn’t either.

I do have a theory that the Red Soul in Frisk, is NOT Chara or even Frisk.

the Red Soul powering the underground that you can find in the True Lab when you are turning on the power on that generator thing.

if you look closely you will see there is a red type heart in the middle,

which might be Chara’s Soul, and if we do a Geno-Run in might be possible that Chara’s Soul will find a way to talk to us by some form of Soul Telepathic Link.

Chara ending up appearing in Frisk’s mind and speaking to us through the dark mind space in Frisk’s mind.

and the Red Soul that is seen in the Undertale game, the one that can be seen in the fights.......was never Frisk’s Soul.

the Red Soul is the Player, this means that the Red Soul in Deltarune

is also the Red Soul from Undertale and they are both the Players.

if this is true that would mean without the players,

Frisk in the canon of Undertale, is Soulless.

if we think about it, Frisk would have their own Soul in the Fanon AU.

it might be possible that Kris, when not having the Red Soul/Player’s Soul in them.

they are not as they appear to be, yes they could come off as a bit mischievous.

like with the whole eating all the pie

but what if there is a more darker side to Kris, and what if it turned out there was another Soul controlling Kris and they are the ones that rip out our Soul out from Kris?

remember what Asriel said before in Undertale,

when both he and Chara shared a body, the control over the body was split between them.

it’s possible that Kris has more than one soul in them,

one being their own, the second being the one who acts as a villain,

and the third being us the players.

and if we decide to kill any one in the Deltarune Chapters

(or at least try to....)

then that might give the second soul controlling Kris even more control.

or not.....it could be that Kris only has two souls in them,

their soul and the Player’s soul.

I do have a theory that Kris might be the Knight,

well either them or Papyrus or Gaster or Asriel.

anyone of those four could be the Knight.

but the top suspect of being the Knight now, is Kris.

and this is thanks to what I have seen in Chapter 2,

both watching the walkthrough and even playing it myself.

it might be possible when we do take over Kris’s body,

we end up freeing Kris from another soul that might be the Knight.

it be interesting if when the choices pop up,

they come in two different colors to show which ones is what the Player would pick or Kris would pick.

the Player could end up choosing to pick what Kris wants,

or the Player could end up picking the the choice that isn’t the color that shows to be what Kris would want.

the color of the choices would be a Turquoise (Kris)

and Red (Player)

depending on the Player, we could choose to go with just the red color choices

or the turquoise color choices, if we choose the turquoise color choices

it can mean we value Kris’s opinion and want to show that their choices matter.

it be interesting if they add that in a future chapter.

I'm thinking of changing my tumblr name again, even if it hasn't been that long since I had changed my first tumblr username...

but I still want to put down my original tumblr name on any new drawings I post on tumblr, just to be safe and so there will be no misunderstandings.

I still want my Tumblr to be about a Deltarune-Flowey The Flower,

so even if I do change my tumblr username to something that isn't "Flowey"

I still want to be Flowey The Flower type.....as well as a Crossover.

and if I do decided to change my tumblr username for the second time.

going from floweytheflower-of-deltarune to [redacted]

I will have to edit the last drawing post I had put up that had floweytheflower-of-deltarune on it.

I will keep thinking about it.

but anyway the Chapter 2 of Deltarune was really REALLY awesome.

and it does seem to be a bit more epic than Undertale.

which once again I still love Undertale, but Chapter 2 has out did it.

for some reason Queen reminds me of White Diamond.

I do have a theory about Susie,

that either one she is a orphan or two she comes from a abusive home

and one or both of her parents might treat her badly.

and she let’s out her anger by bullying others

and the reason why she eats chalk and the other stuff she shouldn’t.

is because she isn’t getting enough to eat at home and might be malnourished.

Susie might also not be only child, she might be a older sister or younger sister.

and her bond with Lancer, taking up the Big Sister Role to him.

might show she has a Protective Big Sister side to her.

it might be possible that she gives half of her food to her younger sibling

and Susie doesn’t eat much at home because of how her parents treat both her and her little sibling.

if it is true that Susie has a younger sibling, it might be possible that Susie’s younger sibling is in Toriel’s class.

and given some info in the Chapter 2,

we might know the bio-gender of Susie’s sibling.

which if you read what I wrote on top about not reading this unless you beaten Chapter 2....

I can say now, that it is possible that Susie might have a little sister.

and the little sister might be in Toriel’s class.

I did do a drawing of what I think Susie’s little sister might look like.

as well as what Susie’s Mom might look like too.

but I don’t want to post them just yet.

it be cute if Susie’s little sister appeared in a future chapter

and once meeting Noelle, Berdly and Kris.

the little sister tells them “you can’t have my big sis! big sis is mine!”

of course Noelle might find this really precious, maybe it will remind her how much she loved her older sister when she was Susie’s little sister’s age.

speaking of Noelle’s sister, I did draw up a ship drawing between her and Deltarune’s Asriel.

if both the Holiday and Dreemurr families are both Boss Monsters

then I hope they reveal that in a future chapter.

it might be possible that both the Dreemurr and Holiday families

come from a Royal heritage,

if this is true that would make Noelle technically a Princess.

I’m calling Fan Headcanon on that theory.

also it is pretty obvious that Yandere Noelle is canon.

because of what we see in Chapter 2.

it might be possible that Kris has three souls in them,

one being theirs, the other being the Player and the other being possibly the Knight.

Kris’s true soul might be Turquoise blue type color.

what trait a Turquoise Soul is, well maybe it will be hinted in the game.

I really love Chapter 2 of Deltarune, and I know that Chapter 3 will be worth the wait.

and if Sans was hinting in Chapter 2 about Chapter 3, we might see it in a few years....then again I could be wrong about Sans hinting.

sadly we didn’t get to meet Papyrus in Chapter 2,

but we just have to be patient.

I think that besides the Players choices mattering in the game,

I think Kris’s choices should matter too.

so when the choices do pop up, they should come in Red for the Player

and Turquoise for Kris.

if we choose the turquoise color choices, it is still gonna be Kris’s choice

as it shows we are picking what Kris wants.

it be interesting if that happens.

also I would still like to know who Mike is that is mention in Chapter 2.

it might not be the one that is in the credits, so it has to be a different Mike all together, but who they are is unknown.

I hope some of you agree that the choices of the Player and Kris,

should be in Red and Turquoise.

we might be the Red Soul in both Undertale and Deltarune,

but we should try to look at it being in a symbiotic relationship.

where we make sure to keep Kris and their friends safe,

and try to fight off the other soul that had control of them before we came into their lives in Chapter 1.

also it might be possible that while both Undertale and Deltarune are two different timelines and AUs of each other.

it could be possible that before the start of those two games,

one could travel between if he machine that allowed it was turned on.

the Sans from Deltarune, might of came from a non-stop Geno Route Timeline

and had no other choice but to take both himself, his brother and other survivors to the Deltarune Timeline where they would be safe from Frisk.

I and a lot of other fans might believe this to be canon, and it would make sense given the evidence of the former Grilby’s turned into convenience store.

like what if in a future Chapter that is called “Undertale: Geno-Route”

it shows the world that Sans and his brother came from

and Sans ends up telling Kris, Susie and the others that he had to leave because it was becoming too dangerous and he didn’t want to watch his brother die again by the hands of the human named Frisk.

the Frisk that we the Players make to be more innocent and being full of love.

might be different from the Frisk that is in the canon of the game

and who knows how Frisk was before we the Player’s taken control of them.

but we do know that the Red Soul in Deltarune, could be the same one in Undertale, which would mean that we the Players are the Red Soul.

and while Kris could of had their own Turquoise Soul before we came into the picture.

and Chara could have the same color Red Soul as the Player,

which is being used to power the underground.

it could turn out that Frisk in the canon of Undertale,

is Soulless and is only given a Soul that belongs to the Player....

so Flowey might be right about Frisk’s Soul not being theirs.

I am glad I finally figured out why I couldn’t seem to play Deltarune Chapter 1&2 at first, it had to do with not beating the new save I had that had to do with the first Deltarune Chapter 1 before the version that had Chapters 1 and 2 came out.

if you beat the first version, then when you click on the new Deltarune Chapters 1&2, the blue popup message wont show up and the game will run normally.

so it’s best to keep the original Deltarune download.

#deltarune chapter 2 #love triangle #yandere noelle is canon #spoilers #undertale theory #deltarune theory #red soul #long post

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her-story6 · 4 years

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“5 times Cathy calls Lina ‘mum’ and 1 time Lina calls Cathy her daughter”

aka, my most recent procrastination project. I promise I’ll get to the other fics, y’all, I swear. Thank you for being so patient.

Note- I don’t usually hc Cathy as calling Lina ‘mum’ but it was fun to explore for one fic.

No one could ever figure out how Cathy was always the last one to get sick when a bug went through the house. It was just how it was, every time.

Funnily enough, every time, she would do the same old routine. The others don’t think she noticed the pattern, but it was blatantly obvious to them, and it would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing.

First, she would try and deny it, but once they made it to the theater, she couldn’t hide it for very long before she was frog marched back home and into bed. From there someone, usually Catalina, would stay by her side for a few days until she had either become less stubborn or more lucid. Either way, she would eventually give in and agree to rest. Finally, she would come back around and pretend like nothing ever happened.

Honestly, this cycle happened in some form or another for all the Queens, so no one said anything. They all had their own reactions to illness that more or less stemmed from past trauma, and none of them desired to relive anything like that.

The most recent illness was no different.

To no one's surprise, Cathy had been driven home by Catalina between the afternoon and evening performances, and the elder were currently in the process of trying to get her goddaughter into bed without physical injury.

“Look, Cathy, love, just let me help you,” Lina tried again as Cathy just barely caught herself on the kitchen counter instead of tumbling to the floor.

“I got it, Ari,” the sixth Queen huffed, face scrunching in concentration. She was probably trying to sound determined and intimidating, but Catalina would have laughed if she wasn't so exasperated

“Mija, you barely made it inside without cracking your skull on the ice. I'm begging you, just let me hold your arm when you go up the steps.”

Cathy, who had been taking a short break on a stool, glanced slowly between the aforementioned steps and her godmother, clearly thinking carefully (or as carefully as she could in her half-lucid state) before sighing.

“Fine. But just to get you off my back.”

“Fair enough, querida.” Catalina smirked before sliding forward and linking arms with the smaller woman. Cathy struggled to stand for a moment, before allowing Lina to lead her to the steps.

The first Queen would have been very worried about her goddaughter’s sudden lack of basic motor skills, except it was already a miracle she had managed to survive one show without passing out. This specific illness had caused even Anna, the most composed of all of them, to slide magnificently down the theater staircase before telling Jane all sorts of embarrassing secrets..

They had all been so tired and so out of it that they had practically blacked out for three days, and with the hazy mind came awkward conversations and hours laying in bed.

By the time they reached the top of two flights of stairs, Catalina was supporting basically all of Cathy’s weight. She regarded this as a good thing, though, as it meant that the girl would put up little fight in going to bed.

“Lina, don't we have a show?” Cathy broke the silence that had formed when they reached her door, rolling her head to look at her godmother.

“Not right now, Cath. It's time for bed.” Catalina noted the shift in tone and adapted accordingly, lowering her tone and slowing her speech.

“It's bedtime?”

“Exactly, querida,” Catalina chuckled. “Do you want to change clothes?”

Cathy let out a long, almost dramatic groan as she glanced between the dresser and the bed, before shaking her head.

“No. I wanna sleep.”

“Alright, then. Come on.”

The older woman led Cathy to the bed and helped her get situated under the covers. While she burrowed deeply so was barely distinguishable under the blankets, Catalina turned to close the curtains and set down the water bottle she had slipped under her arm on the way up here.

After said tasks were done, she sat down on the edge of the bed and reached over to brush a lock of hair out of her goddaughter’s eyes.

“Sweet dreams, mi hija. I'll be right downstairs if you need me.”

“Mhmmm” Cathy hummed in acknowledgment, pushing slightly into the touch as she shifted in bed. Catalina smiled softly at her for a moment, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, mi hermosa hija,” she whispered softly as she rose from the bed and walked towards the door. Just as she was about to slip through it, though, a quiet mutter from Cathy stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Love you too, mum.”

Catalina didn't mention that night to anyone.

She didn't mention how her heart skipped a beat, and then she couldn’t stop smiling all night.

She didn’t tell the other Queens of the slip-up, because she could imagine their amused and slightly concerned expressions now.

She most certainly didn’t say anything to Cathy, because honestly- she didn’t want to know whether she meant it or not, or if she would be ashamed or proud, or if she truly felt that way.

As such, the first Queen tried her best to continue life as normal. Pushing the incident to the back of her mind, she was almost able to act completely normal around her goddaughter again.

Until, of course, she said something that was arguably even more heart-stopping.

“Querida, I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s very reasonable,” Catalina tried to reason as the two faced off in the kitchen. The other four were lounging in the living room and trying very hard to not be seen listening in.

“Come on, Catty, just think about it, I mean-”

“No, Cathy. That’s just not realistic. I’m sorry, love.”

“But, madrina-” the sixth Queen whined, leaning dramatically over the counter. Catalina, who had been digging around in the fridge for ingredients (as Cathy had interrupted her while she was fixing dinner), turned around much faster than she meant to and stared at her goddaughter open-mouthed.

“What did you just say?”

“I- oh, I’m so sorry,” Cathy began to stutter as she sat back and looked down, “I didn’t mean, I mean, I did, but if you’re not alright with it, then I’ll never say it again, of course, I’m sorry, I-”

“No!” Catalina exclaimed, then immediately composed herself. “No, it’s fine. It’s great actually.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. It’s only fair, if I call you hija then why can’t you call me madrina?” Catalina smiled, reaching across the counter to squeeze Cathy’s arm gently. The younger woman gave her a hesitant smile, then nodded.

“Alright, good.”

“Good,” Catalina echoed. She watched her goddaughter for a few more moments, pretending not to feel Jane’s amused gaze on them, then took a step back. “The answer’s still no, though, mija.”

“Ughhhhhhh,” Cathy groaned dramatically, lowering her forehead onto the counter. “Fiinneeee”

Catalina could do nothing but chuckle.

III

It had been a few weeks and Catalina was just about used to hearing the word ‘madrina’ from her goddaughter’s mouth and every time, she couldn’t help but beam. The proud look on Cathy’s face when she noticed was almost enough to give her a heart attack.

What really did give her a heart attack, though, was when she received a call from the hospital, telling her that Cathy had been in an accident.

This certainly wasn’t the first time one of them had ended up in an ambulance.

Anne, of course, had taken multiple trips, but there was also the time Jane sprained her wrist and when Anna had taken a wrong step on her morning jog and ended up in an ankle cast for the next two months.

As such, after the doctors assured her that Cathy was all fine and they just needed someone to pick her up because the car was not drivable, the panic wore off and she was more relieved than worried.

When she arrived at the hospital, the nurses led her outside a sitting room where she could see Cathy sitting, holding her purse close to her chest and bouncing her leg restlessly. The nurse peaked her head into the room, gesturing for Lina to stay put, and said-

“Catherine, your mother’s here to pick you up. You have all the forms settled, so you’re free to go.”

Before Catalina could say anything, the nurse disappeared around a corner as Cathy slipped through the door.

“Heyyyy,” Cathy started, shifting her purse so it was over her shoulder and looking up at her godmother. “Sorry about that, they didn’t seem to like my idea of just getting a taxi home.”

Catalina was relieved to see that Cathy was more embarrassed than nervous, so she decided to ignore the elephant in the room as the two started walking to the exit.

“No problem, mija. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah, me too,” she chuckled. “It wasn’t my fault, by the way. The other guy took full responsibility and his insurance will pay for everything.”

“That’s good.” Catalina nodded, holding the door open as they went outside. Cathy shivered slightly against the nipping wind, but said nothing else on the walk to the car.

Once they were back on the road, though, Catalina grew tired of the awkward silence.

“So,” she started, and out of her peripherals she could see Cathy shift, “mother, huh?” Catalina tried to keep her tone light and amused, and was grateful when her goddaughter let out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, sorry about that. It was all so rushed and I didn’t want to make it more complicated than it had to be by explaining our relationship. They wouldn’t even let me call you.”

“No worries, I was just wondering. Our relationship is pretty hard to explain.”

“You can say that again,” Cathy agreed, and the two laughed as the conversation easily shifted to a more lighthearted topic.

“Oh, come on Catherine! Do you really have to be so uptight all the time?”

The room suddenly became silent at Cathy’s outburst, all heads, which had previously been focused on a heated argument between Anne and Catalina, turning to the sixth Queen. Cathy took this as permission to continue.

“I’m sorry, but you really need to lighten up some times! Anne just wants to go out with Kat and I for a night, what’s the big deal?”

Catalina was taken aback, unaware that her goddaughter was even involved in the issue, but didn’t back down.

“The big deal is that it’s not safe. I’m not letting you stay out all night in the middle of winter, especially with the roads like they are. We are already down one vehicle, we can’t lose the other one too.” The first Queen tried to keep her voice even, but the look of anger in Cathy’s eyes caused her to waver on the last few words.

“Why do you even get a say? We’re all adults in this situation and it’s really none of your business,” Cathy countered. Anne had taken a step back and was now more of a spectator than a participant. Arguments between Cathy and Lina were rare, and when it happened, they all knew not to get involved.

“First of all because it’s my name on the car registration,” Lina started, quickly losing patience. “Secondly because I don’t want any of you getting hurt when I can stop it.”

“You wouldn’t stop Anna or Jane from going!” Cathy exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s just because you don’t trust us.”

“That is not true at all and you know it, Catherine Parr.” Catalina’s voice had lowered dangerously, and Anna and Kitty took an actual step back.

“Do I?! How would you know how I think?”

“You need to calm down. It’s been a long week and we all need a break,” Catalina once again tried to reason calmly, having caught herself before she could make the conversation spiral further.

“Come on, mom! You can’t control us forever.”

“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but I think you should-,” Catalina stopped dead when her brain registered what Cathy had said. “Wait, what?!”

“I-” Cathy’s voice suddenly returned to its normal pitch as she came to the same realization. The room was frozen for a solid minute, all eyes back on Cathy, as her eyes grew wide and her face contorted in confusion. “Whatever.” She finally scoffed, then immediately disappeared up the steps.

Catalina watched after her, mouth wide open and blinking comically. Only the sudden cackling laughter from Jane brought her out of a stupor.

“Oh my god!” Jane said through laughter. “That was beautiful.”

“Jane-” Anna warned, but there was a clear amused smirk on her face as well.

“You all heard that too, right?” Catalina turned to them, still reeling.

“Oh, yeah!” Jane beamed widely, reaching forward to pat her friend’s arm. “Good luck with that, love.”

“Oh, thanks,” Catalina said sarcastically, rolling her eyes even as she tried to process the last few minutes.

“So.....” Anne interjected after a few moments of silence, the word clearly a question.

“No, Anne,” Jane answered her question before it could be asked. “It was a stupid idea in the first place and I think Cathy’s out for the night anyway.” Catalina sent the third Queen a grateful look for taking the question.

“Ughhhh, fine,” Anne huffed dramatically. “It’s probably for the better anyway. Now Kit and I can finish our movie marathon.”

It was quite a statement on Catalina’s mental state when she said nothing to try and discourage the cousins from pulling (another) all-nighter, and the two took the momentary lapse to disappear up the steps. This hesitation was also noticed by Jane and Anna, who glanced at each other in concern.

“You alright, Lina?”

“I-” she started, then paused and leaned back against the fridge with a sigh, “This is going to be a really awkward conversation, isn’t it?”

Jane chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah, probably. Kitty called me ‘mum’ once and she didn’t look me in the eye again for a week.”

“That’s just the thing, though. This isn’t the first time.”

“It isn’t?” Anna joined in the conversation now, sliding onto a stool across from the other two women.

“I mean, we all know she calls me ‘madrina’, which is different, but still. But she was really sick one night and right before she fell asleep, she, uh... she said ‘love you too mum’”

“Awwwww” Jane cooed, smiling cheekily.

“Not helpful, Jane,” Catalina bit back, without any real force behind it.

“Sorry, sorry, I know. But seriously, do you have a problem with it?”

“No! I mean, I don’t want to make it a normal thing, obviously, but it’s nice to know that she thinks of me like that.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Anna asked, leaning her chin her hand and tilting her head.

“I just don’t want her to feel weird about it. We’ve had.... conversations. About her mother and my Mary and not replacing them and the like, and I just.... I don’t know, it just feels weird.”

“That makes sense. I suggest you let it rest for now. Wait for her to come to you, maybe.”

“You’re right, Jane, I know,” Catalina shook her head, sighing once more. “There’s nothing I can do for now. Thank you, ladies.”

“No problem, Ari.” Anna smiled, and Jane nodded in agreement. “Go get some sleep.”

“That’s exactly the plan. Maybe I’ll stop by Anne’s room on the way and apologize. Good night, Queens.” Catalina nodded politely at them, then slipped up the stairs.

“Good night,” they echoed, sending each other one last amused look before carrying on with their nightly routine.

It had been two days, and Catalina was trying her best to be patient, but Cathy had yet to initiate any conversation with her, let alone one about the topic that was very clearly weighing heavily on both of their minds.

It was painfully clear that they were avoiding each other, and based on Jane’s annoyed sighs and Anna’s pointed glances, the others had noticed as well.

Eventually, though, to everyone’s surprise, it was Cathy who broke the silence.

“Lina, can you help me fix dinner?”

Alright, so it wasn’t what she was hoping to hear, but at least it was something. Catalina, of course, accepted immediately and the two soon found themselves alone in the kitchen, once again surrounded by an uncomfortable silence.

It wasn’t until the meal was in the oven that the first Queen decided enough was enough.

“Cathy, I think we need to-” Catalina started, setting down the bowl she had been washing.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Ari. Can’t we just pretend it never happened? Please?”

The sincerity in her goddaughter's voice almost caused Catalina to give in, but she shook her head and stood her ground.

“You know we can’t, querida. Let’s just get it over with, huh?”

Cathy looked ready to object, but after a quick internal battle, she sighed and nodded, turning the faucet off and jumping up on the counter. Catalina watched her carefully, then followed suit, setting down her washcloth and leaning against the fridge.

“First of all,” Cathy started, shifting so her feet were tucked under her. Lina held back a comment about dirty shoes on the counter as her goddaughter composed her thoughts. “I just wanted to apologize for the argument in the first place. It was stupid and I didn’t mean anything that I said.”

Catalina nodded slowly, mulling over her words, before asking simply- “Anything?”

Cathy hesitated, knowing exactly what she was referring to. “I-,” she paused, swallowing hard. “I honestly don’t know. I was worried at first that you would be uncomfortable, that I had crossed a boundary, and of course I don’t plan on... on calling you that on a regular basis or anything, but....... I dunno.”

Catalina nodded once more, then allowed herself to hesitate, set on thinking out her thoughts before saying them.

“I completely understand. As we’re being honest, I also have to say that I could not tell you all my feelings about it. I think- I think that if it became a habit, I might not be very comfortable with that, but I would never be upset about a slip-up. And every so often, if it comes out... less on accident, I don’t think I would protest too hard.”

“No, yeah, I get it.” Cathy nodded, visibly relaxing as the tension seeped away. “What had me so confused was the difference between ‘madrina’ and ‘mom’. Two completely different connotations, but I have no way of putting the specifics in words.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that was exactly what I was thinking.” Catalina nodded, a smile forming on her face. “It’s actually really nice, to know that you see me like that, because I completely reciprocate that feeling. It’s very clearly not a traditional relationship, but we don’t have to explain it to anyone else if we don’t want to.”

“The word ‘traditional’ doesn’t apply to anything in this house, it seems,” Cathy joked, and then smirked slightly. “You know, that wasn’t the first time I had made that mistake.”

“Oh, I know,” said Catalina simply. Cathy seemed surprised for only a moment before she just shook her head and chuckled softly.

“So we’re good?”

“Of course, mija.” Catalina nodded, reaching to squeeze her goddaughter’s leg. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring this up earlier. I was just nervous you would say something I didn’t want to hear.”

“Oh, me too. But I’m glad we got it all sorted.”

The two stared at each other for a few more moments, just smiling and allowing themselves to appreciate the moment.

‘The moment’, however, was cut off with a shrill beep from the stove, which caused Catalina to jump and bump her side on the fridge handle.

“Ow!”

“Oh, careful, madrina.” Cathy smiled cheekily, “Don’t want to break those fragile old bones of yours.”

“I’ll have you know, mija,” Catalina retorted, as they both set to work on taking out the pans and setting them out on the counter, “These bones are barely a year old. I think I’ll be fine.”

“If anything, that’s more concerning! These bones materialized out of thin air!”

“Oh, please querida, don’t give me an existential crisis right now, I can’t handle it.”

“Your old lady brain struggling to keep up?” Cathy asked, barely containing a laugh.

“Why, you-!”

And when the others came down to the duo ignoring the still beeping oven as they bickered, they didn’t say anything, too relieved to see that they were speaking again.

The Queens didn’t go out to bars together very much anymore, after numerous bad experiences their first few months, but every so often, when a large celebration was in order, they made an exception for Anne and allowed the second Queen to bring them around to her favorite establishments.

By this point in the night, there had already been multiple counts of harassment amongst the six of them, and no one was really reacting anymore. Even Lina, who was above only Cathy in the ‘most likely to get catcalled’ list, had been forced to get a little snippy when a man wouldn’t leave her alone.

Cathy, of course, was blissfully unaware of most of this.

The others had tried to explain to her multiple times why she wasn’t harassed nearly as much as the others.

(‘It’s because you look like a twelve year old’ Anne had suggested, and then Anna had shaken her head and said ‘No, it’s just because you look like you would kill anyone who touched you. That’s a compliment, by the way’.)

That wasn’t to say she was completely unharmed, for she had of course had her fair share of bad experiences. They were just rarer.

This, apparently, was just one of those nights, though, because as Catalina made her way back from the bathroom at their most recent (and final, accordion to Jane) bar, she just barely caught her goddaughter’s curly hair peeking out from behind a large muscular man leaning over her on the other side of the room.

Immediately, the first Queen changed her route and pushed through the throng, trying to gauge the situation before interrupting. As she grew closer, she began to catch snippets of their conversation.

“Come on, beautiful,” the man sneered, leaning cockily against the wall and effectively cutting off Cathy’s escape route.

“I already said no, I’m sorry,” Cathy responded, much calmer than Lina had worried. “Look, I just want to go back to my friends, please.”

Something in the man’s expression changed, and Catalina had no desire to see what happened next (it could have been fine, but she wasn’t going to take that chance) so she sped up and covered the last remaining ground in seconds, before sliding seamlessly between her goddaughter and the man.

“Kindly leave my daughter alone, sir,” Catalina tried to be as civil as possible, crossing her arms and drawing herself up to her full height.

“Your daughter?” the man questioned, scoffing slightly. He leaned around Lina to peer at Cathy. “You come to bars with your mom?”

“Actually I come to bars with my daughter, but that’s really none of your business. Please just leave her alone.”

He looked ready to argue, but with one raised eyebrow from Lina, he decided it wasn’t worth it and turned on his heel, walking away while muttering something under his breath.

“Thank you, but I really didn’t need your help. It was more amusing than anything.” Cathy rolled her eyes, stepping out and following her godmother through the crowd back to their table.

“I know, I just thought it was better to be safe than sorry.”

“Fair enough.” Cathy nodded, then hesitated. “‘Your daughter’, huh?”

Catalina let out a barking laugh, then cocked her head in thought, pulling Cathy to a stop. Cathy tilted her head in curiosity, glancing back at her godmother. Finally, Catalina simply nodded and said, now completely serious-

“You heard me.”

#six the musical #fanfiction #six the musical fanfiction #my writing

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whatwashernameagain · 4 years

Text

Keep him safe - Chapter 34

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Ch 25, Ch 30, previous chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you, The Dreamer

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 9.007

Warnings: Roman and Virgil’s horny thoughts (not explicit), slight mention of cross dressing, scratches, political criticism, cursing – let me know if I forgot one!

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however, feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness. Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: Thanks to @sebthesnipe for proof reading even though she is the busiest person in the world and to @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 for being amazing and running the KHS Discord server for two amazing years now.

Chapter 34

“Hey asshole, pick your shit up! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Virgil screeched at the unsuspecting dog walker from his spot at the front door of their apartment building, already seething with anger. He’d just gotten back from his early morning training at Talyn’s place and had been looking forward to finishing it with Logan, who was currently on his run. And now this dirtbag was getting all up in this shit – or… Virgil was getting up in the dude’s shit. Well sue him!

The man startled, looking down at the cigarette butt he’d tossed to the ground carelessly.

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t just call me an asshole over nothing! Who do you think you are? Where I throw my fags is none of your business.”

Oh, that had been a mistake.

Virgil abandoned his attempt to unlock the door and got right into the man’s face, ignoring the bulldog happily yaping around his heels. He was so ready for this.

“Over NoThInG? Listen up, you hollow walnut!”

Before he could start ranting properly, a familiar tall man wearing a band tee with a ripped collar, no shoes and wild eyes materialized next to him.

“Oohh yay, are we throwing away our stuff???” He cheered, immediately emptying his pockets and throwing everything on the ground with glee. Bloody tissues, clothespins, a folding knife, crumbling dog treats (immediately slobbered away by enthusiastic dog) and a worn, tiny bible. Papers immediately started spilling out of it – some filled with scribbled thoughts or to do lists, others with faded printouts. In his back pockets he found a bunch of candy wrappers he immediately threw up to rain around himself, unintentionally tossing a pocket Quran along with it which he hastily fumbled with so not to drop it.

Virgil ducked out of the radius of his debris, as usual weirded out and awed in equal parts by professor Duke. The dog-walker looked at him like he’d just bitten off his own foot.

“The hell? Fags aren’t the same as your garbage, you crazy freak!” The man exclaimed, thoroughly disturbed.

“No, dude. They’re much worse!” Virgil growled, ignoring Remus trying to free his fingers from a distressed looking worm on a string he’d gotten tangled in. Quite a few people had stopped to watch them, yet with the professor cheerfully making a scene next to him, Virgil managed to keep his head high despite the heat and anxiety making his heart race.

“Cigarette butts contain over 4000 toxic substances and are virtually indestructible.” The young delinquent hissed. “The filters are made of a plastic called cellulose acetate and they take 10 years to decompose completely- just one of those fucks poisons one cubic meter of water and kills all the fucking fish in it.”

“You should pick it up, friend. Before I get ideas about where to put it out.” Remus cooed sweetly, before ruining the elegant subtly of his threat by becoming way too graphic.

“In your face!” He screeched, flailing grandly and wiggling his fingers, the bulldog distracting him by nosing at his pockets, hoping for more treats. Its owner used the chance to sullenly grab his cigarette stub and get away.

“You shouldn’t have a doggy-dog if you can’t handle being a clean boy!” Remus hollered after him, way too loud and shameless. “Do you not wipe your ass after you take a shit either? You naughty, dirty boy? Is it a sex thing? That is the one sex thing you keep in your bedroom!”

Virgil was blushing thoroughly, not enjoying the attention despite the righteous fire still fueling his anger. What the fuck was wrong with people throwing their garbage on the ground? What were they thinking? Not only did somebody else have to pick it up, it also fell apart to become microplastic and the nicotine, tar and heavy metals – all 4.5 trillion of them that were thrown away each year. Fuck smokers who did that! They were what was wrong with the word! Seriously, could you be any more of a useless human if they were not even able to throw their trash away properly? Full offense, Virgil wanted to kick them in the face.

People were staring and murmuring around them and though he didn’t feel bad about his reaction, his heart was still in his throat at all the attention.

“What? Are you not entertained enough, you mindless sheep?” Remus roared brightly, spreading his arms and bouncing up and down on his toes, placing himself in front of the younger man. “Would you like me to sing you a song about the misfortunes of little Jimmy who doesn’t pick up his litter? Spoilers – he gets eaten by an octoshaaaark!”

He struck a dramatic pose and drew a deep breath. People started fleeing.

“Aw dang.” Remus pouted.

Virgil chuckled, feeling surprising affection well up in him. Remus was scary, yeah, definitely, but he was also an ally to his cause, and that meant a lot to him.

Crouching down and using the opportunity to let his hair fall over his face, he started picking up the non-bloody articles Logan’s neighbor had scattered on the ground.

“Why do you have a bible and a copy of the constitution?” He asked, trying to shake the paper from his fingers and finding it disconcertingly sticky. Was that a cough drop? Ugh, he’d have to disinfect his whole body.

“For arguments with conservatives!” Remus answered happily. “I like slapping them in the face with the dick that is my arguments every time they go all bibly-christiany on me! They don’t love the fact that Jesus was a sandal wearing liberal that much – a lot like I am, actually! Not that facts work well with them – I found that barking and bending over backwards with your tongue lolling out works best. Makes an impression!”

He’d settled down next to Virgil cross-legged, bouncing his knees, and started munching on the dry little cookie thingies the bulldog had missed. “Dog treat?” He asked generously, holding one out.

“Why?” Virgil asked, completely bewildered. They were, indeed, little bone shaped dog treats.

“I like the way they crunch!”

“…okay.”

Virgil still tried to make sense of the interaction he was currently having and found that using facts was indeed a lost cause with many republicans – which in this case was a generous euphemism for racists and Nazis, so one could just as well try what the crazy man did. Not everyone deserved to have a stage, after all.

Quietly, he examined the other. The ripped T-shirt made the wide collar slip down one of his skinny shoulders and the jeans he wore had definitely seen better days. His dark skin didn’t do much to hide the bluish shadows under his eyes. And also his naked, dirty feet were disgusting.

Dumping the stuff he’d picked up into the professor’s lap, he stood up. “Take a shower and come up at twelve, I’m making veggie burgers.”

There would be so much complaining once Roman found out he’d invited Remus.

***

Logan ran a hand through his sweaty hair, pulling the damp, raven locks out of his face. His muscles were burning pleasantly from his run and he was looking forward to his post workout stretch with Virgil. It would be illogical not to use the knowledge of an experienced gymnast for advice, after all. Though his little delinquent was still shy about it, the detective found he appeared to enjoy exercising together, as long as they were doing it in the safety of Virgil’s room where he could comfortably hide in his oversized sweaters.

His thoughts amusedly circled back to the way Virgil had to shake his hands free from his overly long sleeves whenever he reached for his feet while he fumbled his keys free from the little pocket sewn into his close-fitting trousers. As usual, Logan fetched the mail on his way up, sighing as a stack of colorful envelopes fell into his hands. Glitter rained down from one of them. With more gentleness than he felt inclined to, he beat the stack of bulging papers against the side of the building to loosen the shimmering plastic particles. Did this action constitute a case of littering, he wondered. He resolved to bring down his vacuum cleaner to deal with the mess after his shower.

On his way up, the detective separated the pile into his and Roman’s mail, ending up with sensibly sized, white envelopes in one hand, and a bunch of offensively colored, suspiciously rattling, sticker covered, perfumed fan mail his partner was greedily waiting for. He kicked the professor’s apartment door closed as he passed it, satisfied to hear him mumbling over the running shower in the also open bathroom.

Roman was already lurking in the opened door to Logan’s own apartment like a silk-clad dragon looking to expand his hoard, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. Logan rolled his eyes. Despite having received letters for a week already, he was still overly enthusiastic about them every day. And he still refused to get them himself, instead he let Logan hand them to him exasperatedly like some strange ceremony.

The young detective snatched the pile eagerly, pouting as Logan held back two of them, not liking the powdery, sandy sound they were making when he tilted them. It was likely more beads or glitter, yet they still went into the box by the door to be checked in the lab (as they all should). He had ordered the post office whose address the fan-mail was sent to, to be extra vigilant before delivering the mail to his apartment, but he would most certainly not put the safety of his family at risk. He wondered, once again, whether he ought to borrow a service dog to check the mail for – preferably the rest of their lives actually.

“Look, Patton fairest, what the wind has blown in!” Roman sang cheerfully, twirling around the baker gracefully and then taking him for a spin and dip.

Patton giggled, stumbling and holding on to the tall detective, getting his lovely curls all tangled up in the frame of his glasses.

Smiling contently, Logan slunk into Virgil’s room to engage in what he hoped to turn into a routine. The young man was already waiting for him – playing on his phone curled up on the dresser between the planet lights he had kept, hair curling slightly with dampness from his private routine in Talyn’s gym he was slowly taking up again.

Meanwhile, Roman flopped onto the couch and yanked Patton into his arms enthusiastically, wanting to share his happiness and also maybe trying to distract him a little bit from his preparations for his return to the café. He wanted to support his friend, he really did, but he couldn’t help trying to put off unpleasant tasks for as long as possible instead of facing them. It was an issue he’d always had – one that had driven Logan half-crazy before he’d started to deal with many of those tasks himself and handed over others to Roman instead. They were making it work.

Roman didn’t actually have to do anything for the café, but the plan to reopen it, no matter how much Patton needed it, still made him antsy. Trevor-the-villainous-fiend could be lurking there. Who knew what could happen? After all, they had neatly avoided any contact, despite how often he had secretly talked the little baker out of calling him in the night when he’d been frightened and guilty. Which had been a lot of times. Better not tell Logan about that.

Well, distracting himself until the problem went away or got horribly unavoidable was a strategy that had gotten him through life just fine (now that he had Logan to read his paperworky-mail which he had an almost insurmountable aversion against dealing with), so he cuddled the baker close and settled in for some pleasant distractions.

Patton probably knew what he was doing, considering the way he pushed their cheeks together and hummed sweetly. Ugh, Roman felt so loved, it was too much for words. He squeezed Patton’s little body at his side closer to himself, just needing to hold on so suddenly. He loved him so much his heart was pounding with it. Feeling giddy with it, Roman jiggled and rocked them happily, delighting in the laugh he elicited.

“Alrighty, my most precious Patton, shall we discover the adoration of my beloved fans together?” The young man cheered, bright with eagerness.

“Yes! Now that I’m enveloped in a hug letters begin!”

Pulling his legs close to curl comfortably into Roman’s hug, and lean against his warm, broad chest, Patton selected the first envelope – a loudly patterned lilac one. Roman ripped it open with childish pleasure.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” He cooed, the sound almost too high for a man this large. “Isn’t this the most delightful thing you have ever seen, my fairest friend?!”

He was unfolding a drawing of himself in full superhero regalia, cape and sash and all, clearly drawn by a little child. Picture Roman was holding hands with a little kid each – a dark skinned girl in a princess dress and a blonde child of indeterminable gender due to the quality of the drawing. They were wearing a knight’s armor with a lightsaber as much as he could tell. It was adorable and Patton was putting it on the fridge. His eyes were watering at how cute it was.

“Oh.my.god. Virgil, my starry night, come here and see this!” Roman howled, very close to Patton’s ear.

The grumbling from next door indicated the delinquent’s feeling about the nickname as well as the interruption.

Roman waved the letter around with so much enthusiasm it nearly dislodged Patton. With a squeak, the baker held on to the tall man’s neck, even though the strong arm around his waist held him safely where he was almost pulled into Roman’s lap entirely.

Virgil, dressed in a mix of his old gymnastics’ clothes and his newer, oversized hoodie that hid as much as possible and fell all the way over his hips, didn’t really feel like being seen by the attractive detective right now. He didn’t mind Logan seeing him in his pants that fit his toned, long legs like a second skin, but with Roman, he felt a little more self-conscious. Especially about the combination with the ratty, overly long hoodie.

He used to wear tight fitting shirts that he now knew could look quite enticing when they slipped up his middle as he stretched or exposed his shoulders, but he didn’t feel confident enough to pick them out himself anymore. He wanted to look pretty for Roman more with every day, but considering the way the man had seen him in the past, he didn’t know if he could pull it off. Maybe Roman would feel like he was dressing up like a whore again - wearing a costume to seduce him. He didn’t know what made him so reluctant to dress better, it was just – such a big step and he didn’t know how to go about it anymore. So he wrapped his arms around his middle and hoped not to look too annoyed and uncomfortable. Especially considering how happy Roman appeared. So bright and innocent.

He was radiant.

And he was reading fan mail.

Virgil didn’t love the fan mail. Not at all. Remy had been forced to listen about it for a long time. He just hated the thought of those dirty minded, thirsty bitches getting to tell his man about all of the horny things they came up with while they drooled over his pictures. The fuck was wrong with them, trying to steal his- his- argh Virgil hated them with a passion, okay?! Who knew what ideas they were putting into that beautiful idiot’s head?

Remy was still patient with him thought, however the fuck he managed to do it. Virgil had the feeling he was being indulgently laughed at when he raged about the letters over the phone. So what if he hadn’t actually read any of them?! Roman kept singing their praise to anyone who would listen, why would he need to look at them himself? He was sure they were every bit as awful as he imagined.

Roman looked too happy with them. Fuck that.

He really looked quite happy, actually.

Virgil slowed his steps suspiciously.

Giggling, Roman flattened the paper before his eyes to read to Virgil. He even tried to do the voice. A voice Virgil immediately recognized.

‘Tell my anxious doll to, like, not to be such a moody diva and come look at some cute fan mail with his eye-candy detective.’ Roman took a break to preen. ‘I promise you don’t have to be scared, babe. Y’all are just making tasks bigger and scarier by avoiding confrontation with unpleasant chores and then they, like, build up in your messy little minds and that is not cool cause it makes me work for my not-money. So have a letter written by my precious little baby girl angels as a treat, okay girlfriend?’

“Awwwww so sweet!” Patton sighed.

Roman looked thoughtful for a moment as he pulled out the third sheet of paper written with a rainbow pencil, probably by Emile since the girls were too little to write themselves. The words were all enthusiastic little girl, though.

“How would you feel about looking at just one or two letters with us before returning to my dearest partner?” Roman asked sweetly. “They truly are quite entertaining. Just yesterday I received one from the utterly ravishing miss Van der Beek. All her other friends promised to write as well. It turns out I am quite popular with distinguished ladies with more experience enjoying the finer things in life!”

“What he means to say, kiddo, is that old ladies just love our dashing prince. Most of those are sent by the cutest grannies from retirement homes.” Patton explained with a warm smile that was just a little mischievous. “That doesn’t mean they’re all innocent, though.” He added cheerfully. Truthfully, he was already itching to get his hands on the hilarious letters. Those ladies really weren’t shy and Patton secretly wanted to be just like them someday. Enjoying the good life and making the best puns about butts.

Roman didn’t mind the fact that most of his paper-mail was written by children and elderly women (and grandpas, sometimes). He received emails and even digital art from younger fans as well, and he adored them, so, so much, but since he couldn’t keep them in a box with the pictures and drawings and ribbons and whatnot he enjoyed the letters even more. He just loved how creative they were. They really made him feel special. He should have known they’d make his dearest raven anxious, though. He really hoped to put him at ease with this gentle introduction Remy had created for him. And it worked! Of course it did – Remy’s children were the most precious things in the world! He could barely wait for their play date next weekend!

He was a little relieved to find the other letters they opened to be just as fun and cute. They usually were. Patton had a talent for selecting the nice ones from looking at the envelope alone. Not all letters were super sweet of course, but that was why he rarely opened his fan-mail alone. Both Patton and Logan made the creepy ones disappear quite quickly. Virgil could handle those, Roman was sure, but there was one person whose letters would just upset his dear wildcat.

They’d come in fine, yellow envelopes with pressed yellow roses inside and were written in the most beautiful calligraphy he’d ever seen. Recognizing the handwriting on the outside, Roman had squirrelled them away quietly. He hadn’t been able to stop running his fingers over the gracefully curved ink and flowing, tender words for a long time. Guiltily, Roman kept them in a separate box. He didn’t know how to contact his nemesis/admirer and wanted to let them down gently, after all. Before he caught them to lock them away, of course. He just wasn’t entirely ready to give up this feeling. He’d never been courted this way before and it had softened him towards his nemesis.

Virgil returned to Logan more relieved than he had been before, especially since Miss Van der Beek’s friends had come through and had written the most outrageous fan-mail. Roman huddled up comfortably, opening one last letter with Patton before lunch. It was a square, heavy envelope made from cream colored thick, expensive paper. The card inside was heavy and decorated with ornate, delicate gold finishing on the curved corners. It opened in the middle and admitted a view of a beautifully printed card. It read

Invitation

to the Morgan’s annual charity ball 2020

at the Ritz Carlton

All the air seemed to have left the room. The paper tilted in front of Roman’s eyes and slipped from his numb fingers.

“I just don’t understand – after all those years…” Roman stared at the invitation, almost vibrating with nervous energy. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his father’s face turn to stone as he refused to change his ways after nana’s burial. Even after such a long time, it was still crystal clear in his mind.

He wanted to jump up and pace frantically, yet he couldn’t bear to lose the grounding touch of the men gathered around him. Patton had pressed himself against his side as tightly as possible while Logan stood over him, tall and solid, keeping a firm hand on the back of his neck. Only Virgil was sitting with some distance between them since he was clearly too upset to soothe anyone. The golden embossed paper seemed to cause his fury to boil over almost entirely by itself. He looked pale and angry and… he snatched Roman’s sleeve with a thin hand, holding on tightly. His eyes were dark and so hurt on Roman’s behalf.

“They chased me away. Why would they want me there now?” He asked softy, looking at his family with a lost, helpless gaze.

The young detective agonized over the invitation for most of the day, carrying it around and reading it over and over again. Even the presence of Remus during lunch didn’t manage to get a rise out of him in this distraction, which clearly made the professor sulk. Especially since he had a few words to say about those republicans! Thankfully, Virgil and Logan made him some calming herbal tea after lunch (leaf piss, in his opinion but okay), and spent some time debating the advantages of actually murdering and eating the rich while nesting on Logan’s cozy balcony. Patton took Roman’s hand to go on a walk to help him clear his head. It helped.

“A Prince doesn’t shy away from a challenge. I owe it to my pride to go. I can and will do this with my head held high!” He proclaimed proudly at the dinner table the same night. Patton squeezed his hand in support, smiling at him warmly.

“I can’t do this! What was I thinking???” Roman wheezed, trying to calm his racing heart the next morning. “This is the height of hubris – I have fallen victim to the folly of man! There is no way I’m going!” He howled, pulling on his hair and staring at the letter like it would explode. What had he been thinking???

By midday, Roman proudly projected his voice through the entire flat from his perch on the coffee table. “I will be proud and gallant and dazzle everyone with my charming compliments and dashing appearance and my family shall be devastated to see what they missed when they threw away their most glittery offspring!”

His figure was bathed in the brightest sunlight. His fears forgotten, Roman was ready to take on anything!

“What if it was a mistake? Is this a mistake?�� Roman wailed, flailing around with the mangled invitation in hand only an hour later. His eyes were wild. He’d been carrying the expensive paper everywhere with him, swinging erratically between nervous episodes of self-doubt and fear of his father and loud and boisterous assertions of confidence. His hair had become an utter mess from running his hands through it during dramatic monologues and moments of insecurity alike. The others were trying to allow him to come to a decision himself, but the lovely detective appeared to be coping poorly with the freedom.

Half an hour later, he was once again standing on the couch, posing heroically.

“Finally they shall see what a marvelous protector their son has become! A shining knight! A handsome hero dressed in blue!” He boasted, wide eyed and clearly trying to convince himself of his own worth – even as he was asserting his superiority, he was slipping into a pit of self-hate.

Virgil wanted to kill someone.

Seeing this beautiful, confident man spiral so deeply into mental instability because of a letter was ripping him open inside with nowhere for the blood and fear to go but the boiling maelstrom that was his protective fury.

That wasn’t what Roman needed now, though. Taking a deep breath, the barista reached for his man.

Virgil grabbed a hold of Roman’s surprisingly trim waist and pulled his heavy body down next to him. His mood swings between elation and terror were wearing the young man thin. Resigned and too tired to overthink, he yanked the already slightly worn invitation from the tan hands, chucked it on the coffee table, and folded his body onto the large detective’s lap in the wild, desperate hope to pin him down finally. He seemed to love when Patton did it.

The bold move made him sweat with anxiety, yet it was a much more comfortable form of comfort than talking about the issue and ending up insulting Roman’s family as he so desperately wanted. Physical contact had helped calm Roman down most so far, but Logan wasn’t here to grab his partner in a silent, firm hug that squished him against his chest until he grew quiet and Patton was on the phone with his staff, so no tangling his soft limbs with Roman’s now either.

Virgil had tried to keep his distance from the issue after Remy had explained that Roman needed to make his own decision. He probably hadn’t meant brooding in silent fury (while telling Patton what he was angry about and awkwardly reminding him that he loved him all the time).

He couldn’t help hating that republican trash that was Roman’s parents even more than before, though. He wasn’t confused about their motivations for a second. Those filthy pieces of shit were sensing an opportunity to improve their reputation with millennials who were rallying against billionaires who exploited the world – the environment as much as their workers – without even paying fucking taxes. Seriously, fuck Trump, fuck Jeff Bezos, fuck the Morgans! They would try to use Roman’s fame and honesty to claim him as a token to show off to liberals, to make themselves look tolerant and likeable with their beautiful, gay hero son. He was acceptable when it was useful to have a diversity card they could pull in debates, now that their homophobia and racism wasn’t as accepted as it used to be. Fuck them with a broken chair.

He couldn’t say all that, though. He’d just make Roman defensive in this terrible way that left Virgil nothing to work with. The taller man was never aggressive with him. Instead he grew quiet and sad and tried to make Virgil feel safe by being submissive and gentle and letting him have his way as he swallowed all of his pain and fear for everyone else’s sake. Roman didn’t need his anger. Logan had already gently told him about all of the fears he and Virgil shared and had offered his support, he didn’t need a reality check Virgil was desperately holding back. Roman knew they were using him – intellectually at least. Yet, his heart was probably hoping they were finally willing to love him.

So Virgil pulled himself together and silently leaned his lithe body against Roman’s broad chest and tried to gather the courage to say yes to the lovely man’s unspoken question.

The invitation contained a plus one.

Virgil had seen the way Roman’s gaze had sought him out hopefully. He wanted him there, which was astonishingly sweet, since Virgil was… well. Virgil. The fact that Roman, who was beautiful and elegant and charming to a dazzling degree wanted to show Virgil on his arm when he knew how judgmental this fucking crowd was, when he knew what they would think…

Yes, it was also completely and utterly terrifying.

Seriously. A charity ball. At the fucking Ritz? Even young and not so messed up Virgil would have hated the thought with the passion of any idealistic, liberal activist. Fucking corrupt money bags trying to look like they cared while they marinated in their arrogance and wealth while kids in America couldn’t pay for their school lunch and went hungry. While they supported putting fricking kids in actual fucking cages seriously what the fuck this really was the cursed time-line.

Also was there a person alive on this planet who fit the aesthetic of the fucking Ritz less than he did? He didn’t think so. Fuck he needed Remy now. He’d promised to help, thank Tesla. Virgil was clinging to that voice in his memory that had told him to ‘breathe, doll. Daddy has fixed lots of tiny girl hair and fashion disasters in his time. We’ve got this, okay, babe?’

Sure. Dressing a feral bat like Virgil for a FUCKING BALL was a piece of cake.

Well, first he needed to see if Roman actually wanted him to come or if that had all been in his head and Virgil was about to humiliate himself so badly, he would have to move out and change his name. Maybe Roman hadn’t asked yet because he wanted to avoid pressuring him with something he knew he was anxious about. OR he had recognized how badly Virgil would look on his arm.

Virgil felt like he couldn’t breathe for a terrifying moment. He used his position in Roman’s lap he’d chosen in a moment of courage to hide his face against the tan, smooth skin of the detective’s neck.

A deep breath left the taller man as Virgil curled close. He wrapped his arms around the thin body and sunk against him gratefully. The purple mane was so soft against his cheek. All thoughts drifted away – invitations as much as sunflower-yellow letters – leaving only the sensation of warm breaths against his skin and a gracefully curved back under his palms. Everything seemed to quiet, to slow down.

Virgil’s body moved slightly with every breath. He was so warm and alive, such a grounding weight in his lap. He arched against his chest willingly to press himself closer, letting Roman feel the way his ribs expanded on every inhale. The darkness behind the young detective’s closed eyes felt soft and safe. He gently moved his palm over the prominent spine, between wing-like shoulder blades. Stress flowed from his body like water. Slowly, their embrace lost its purpose and became lazy and comfortable, a hug for no other purpose than allowing them to exist so close to each other.

After what felt like a long time of soft tenderness, Roman felt Virgil tense again, knowing he had to get it over with. He couldn’t keep hiding in a cute cop’s arms for the rest of his life because he was embarrassed.

“Listen, man…” He murmured quietly, pulling back slightly. Despite Roman’s hands still resting loosely on his hips, now that he wasn’t curled up and hidden anymore, he felt silly and out of place, suddenly. He really had just sat down in Roman’s lap, huh? What the fuck, Virgil? Heat rose to his cheeks and that just made things a lot worse. He pushed his head down and braced his palms on that hard chest and barreled on.

“Uhm, about- about that invitation. I know you’re anxious about it, and I’m really not good with that shit – I mean – that’s obvious, considering-” He gestured to – all of himself self consciously. “I really don’t know anything about your, eh, your social class and those fancy parties and shit. We’re from pretty, pretty extremely different backgrounds after all, and-”

Roman’s large hand rose to tip Virgil’s blushing face up in order to reassure him (and because it made him feel like a chivalrous knight). His fingers found the pale delinquent’s throat instead. Feeling the racing pulse, he curled his hand around the slender neck right under the jawbone with utter gentleness and brushed it upwards, pushing his chin up slowly.

Virgil’s breath hitched upon feeling the intimate hold he was captured in. It would be easy for the grip to turn punishing, yet he only brushed his thumb over the edge of his jaw and that felt very, very good. Vulnerable in all the right ways.

“What are you trying to say, dearest?” Roman rumbled softly, catching the younger man’s attention from where it had wandered to inappropriate places.

“Uh…” Virgil needed a moment. Roman’s eyes were so vividly green, like sunlight filtered through freshly grown, thin leaves. His mascara made his lashes so long and dramatic and so pretty.

I, uh…” He stuttered again. Roman was biting his lip in amusement, so pleased to have muddled Virgil’s brilliant mind and the barista felt like a useless, horny teenager for the first time in too many years.

A chuckle escaped the detective that was deep and rumbled under Virgil’s palms. He looked at the young man in his lap like he was the sweetest thing.

Feeling his blush flare up, Virgil ducked his head, allowing Roman’s palm to slip onto his cheek. He didn’t force his chin up as he was composing himself. Instead, the manicured hand moved across pale skin and scratched lightly across his scalp. A shiver broke out and raced over the delinquent’s entire back. His mouth fell open in a pleased sigh as he leaned into the caress.

Hell yeah, he could just keep doing that forever, please and thank you. His large palm rested on the pronounced bones of his hip, gripping gently, safely. Virgil could feel the detective’s intense gaze on him like a physical touch. He felt very warm as he leaned closer to that powerful hand in his hair that gave him so much pleasure.

His flush was still hot on his cheeks, yet the heat rising under his clothes wasn’t caused by embarrassment despite the intimacy of the moment. He’d never thought he would be able to let his guard down and be looked at this intimately when Roman made him feel this way. The detective’s other hand moved slowly, brushing up and down his back in the lightest of touches.

Virgil couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped him. It was totally justified, okay? He felt those muscular thighs shift underneath him, adjusting their positions just a bit, so he was brought more securely into the hold of those strong arms and felt a warm breath on the side of his face.

Suddenly, Roman yanked his hand back as if Virgil had electrocuted him, yelping like a frightened dog. His whole body jumped, jostling Virgil.

“The fuck- Cat, what the actual fuck?” The younger man screeched at the ball of gray fur that had wedged itself between them and was furiously hissing and biting at Roman’s hand. The detective flailed and squirmed, unbucking Virgil in the process and dumping him on the cushions as he tried to escape over the back of the couch from the vicious raccoon. He landed face first with a ‘thump’ and an unmanly whimper.

Patton peeked in from the kitchen, phone between his cheek and shoulder, kitten purring in his big cardigan pocket and mixing bowl in hand. Finding Roman trying to twist into a sitting position while his legs were still sticking over the back of the couch and Virgil being slobbered over by an overly affectionate, possessive raccoon, he shrugged and closed the door behind himself. He and Nugget were not getting involved in that particular jealousy triangle. His kiddos would just need to make do.

“Oh shit, Roman, are you okay, dude?” Virgil asked and he knew, he knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help the laugh bubbling up his chest.

Cat was squishing her fat butt all over his lap, pawing at his shirt and lovingly gnawing on his fingers, looking fucking pleased, fricking narcissistic levels of proud and awed at her prowess, like she’d owned the biggest, baddest villain of the kingdom, like she’d saved the princess and gotten the whole cake. While Roman – well…

The young detective/tragic victim heaved himself up on the backrest and was immediately hissed at fiercely. He snatched his hands to his chest to protect them from more scratches. Peeking over the couch just enough to look over it, his precious hair a mess and his lovely hands badly wounded, donning his best, hurt puppy dog eyes, he found no sympathy from his beautiful wildcat.

Virgil snorted helplessly.

“I’m sorry-” The barista gasped, really, seriously feeling sorry and knowing he shouldn’t be rewarding Cat, he was creating a monster here, but Roman looked so messed up. All of that magnificent hair that usually made him look like a prince falling over his face in messy, fluffy tufts – that betrayed, gorgeous, hilarious face-

He doubled over, snickering turning to wheezing laughter the more he tried to suppress it, and felt Cat purring up a storm from where she was throned on his lap, Queen of the couch, breaker of horny cuddle sessions, bane of Roman’s existence.

Since the purring somehow seamlessly turned to spitting, frothing hissing whenever Roman got too close, the poor, beaten hero had to settle into the armchair facing the love of his life (stolen by a villainous adversary), where he tried not to mope too much. He felt a very justifiable pout coming up.

However, tears were now streaming down Virgil’s face while he made himself lightheaded trying to scold Cat and repress his laughter. He only succeeded in making himself hiccup and devolve into a new peal of giggles.

Roman melted into the armchair.

They were quietly folding blankets and putting away pillows, comfortable with each other even though Cat was still sitting in Virgil’s hoody, occasionally touching the back of his head and neck and gurgling threateningly.

It was alright.

Roman wasn’t a malicious man.

And he would get her back for this…

Glaring secretly at the bristly beast whenever Virgil wasn’t looking, the young detective finally remembered that they had started a conversation before their mutual attraction had overwhelmed them like swooning lovers in a romantic novel.

Giddy at the memory, he briefly amused himself with imagining them on a paperback cover – his own shirt open halfway over his gleaming, muscular chest, even longer hair flying in the breeze, Virgil fainting in his arms, pale and lovely in a Victorian dress – oh my lord. A flush rose hotly to his cheeks, especially as he imagined that trim waist encased in lace and possibly even a corset.

This time, he felt Cat was justified in hissing at him while she reached for him with sharp little paws, trying to take a swipe, craving destruction.

Thankfully, Virgil took his blush as a sigh of anger as he twisted around and saved the enthusiastically violent racoon from tumbling out of his hood in its quest for blood.

“Sorry, Dude. I’ll figure something out.” He promised.

Roman thought he didn’t look nearly alarmed enough. However… his little bird deserved all the valiant defenders he could get. The beast might make him feel safe while Roman wasn’t there to watch over him like the tireless defender he was. In principle, the young detective would not mind prospective rivals to be scared off. Just not himself, did this beast not have any taste?

Perhaps he’d just have to invest more effort in his quest to win over the scraggly protector of his dashing not-damsel’s honor! That he could surely do!

Filled with a new sense of determination, he maturely stuck his tongue out to the raccoon.

Virgil snorted. He was happy.

Roman liked that a lot.

“Before I forget…” He started casually, remembering how important the question had seemed to Virgil. “You wanted to ask me something before we were torn apart so viciously?”

The barista startled, his heart missing a beat with nervousness. Right. That.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I was just- you don’t have to say yes – obviously! It’s just if you don’t want to go alone- though you probably have plenty of people to go with- I know you have friends and coworkers and… fans… and Logan could go too so you really don’t need me to be in the way but if you want, I – uh…”

“Virgil,” Roman interrupted him gently, hoping with a fluttering heart he wasn’t misinterpreting the stuttering proposition. “Are you offering to go to the ball with me?” He asked gently, quickly adding for his lovely raven’s nerves benefit, “Because while I don’t want to pressure you in any way, going with you on my arm would make me the bravest and happiest man in the world.”

His words were very, very honest. Having Virgil there, as his date, as his to hold in his arm and show off, showing that the gay failure of the family had captured the most beautiful, smartest and strongest creature in the whole word – he would feel like the king in his castle. Nothing could make him feel like he’d succeeded despite being ashamed of his sexuality for so long than to show Virgil as his beautiful prize. Having him would validate all his struggles and make all the suffering worth it.

So no pressure to say yes. Roman was cool with whatever.

Virgil flushed brightly, ducking his head in a familiar gesture to hide under his hair. His heart beat a mile a minute, filling him with awed elation.

And a little bit of terror.

Looks like he was going to the ball after all.

*************************************************

AAAAnd it looks like Virgil will finally need an outfit for the ball. I wonder who will help him???

As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated! If you want to support me, here is my Ko-fi page. Love you guys! Take care and treat yourself to something nice <3

Next Chapter

#Keep him safe #Detective AU #Sanders Sides #my writing #Prinxiety #Logicality #Roman Sanders #Logan Sander #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Remus Sanders

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