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moonlightdancer26 · 1 year

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hi hello hey howdy *tips hat*

i have yet another Question for you (if im being annoying im sorry)

How does one write Severus Snape?????

in the fic im writing i want him to be somewhat snarky and majorly, majorly intelligent (his character arc depends upon it), but even with a lot of changes to his backstory, still retain a lot of the same characteristics otherwise?

for context: its a house of the dragon/dance of dragon's au. if your unfamiliar, think medieval-esque grimdark politically-driven fantasy with dragons and civil war. the big changes are that he never meets lily evans, and he is fostered/"adopted" by the malfoys and raised to be a steward from a young age. (abraxas malfoy spends half his introduction going LOOK AT HIM HE'S BRILLIANT and the other half snogging tom riddle while they discuss politics) he is the last surviving member of a ruined house with nothing but intelligence and the protection of the malfoy's to his name, until he meets Sirius (apologies now this isnt a sev/sirius fic, its wolfstar, but sev and sirius' relationship is important in later chapters.) they start on,,, bumpy terms, but they are both young teenagers - 14? - at the time, and sirius is The Crown Prince, so they don't see each other again, only hear of each other's exploits/achievements. eventually, once war breaks out, sirius asks severus to be a part of his council as 'master of war' aka head tactician. but that involves going directly against the malfoys. sev does accept this proposal.

im asking i guess about what his train of thought would be? what his motivations might become, how he would evolve, etc etc.

i will take literally any advice here i am Struggling

Howdy there partner

(and dw bud your questions are always a joy to answer)

(also omg that AU sounds legendary)

To be honest… I haven’t a goddamn clue. And I think that’s the best part about it. His character’s confusing as hell, we barely get any content of him when he’s not with Harry, who was basically a walking trigger for him (meaning he was pretty much at his worst whenever Harry was in the room 💀). It’s incredibly easy to mess up his character in fics, but it feels like winning the lottery when you finally nail it.

I think you should reread some of his most memorable moments in the books, especially the meaner ones (e.g. when he humiliates Hermione), since they can say a lot about his character. Whether said moment is good or bad. His canon interactions with Sirius and Remus (and even Dumbledore) can also speak volumes about him and how he deals with certain people in certain situations.

For example: when he delivered the Wolfsbane potion to Remus in front of Harry, he seemed paranoid and uncomfortable. [The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing. . . . Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin. . . . “Fascinating,” said Snape, without looking at it. “You should drink that directly, Lupin.” . . . “I made an entire cauldronful,” Snape continued. “If you need more.” . . . “Not at all,” said Snape, but there was a look in his eye that Harry didn’t like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.] There was no insults, no snark (which is an important detail given that his snark is 90% of his personality), no snippy snappy attitude. When you reread it and keep in mind that Severus was almost killed by werewolf!Remus and genuinely thought he was working with Sirius, the scene simply reads as Snape desperately wanting Remus to just hurry and drink the potion because he’s worried Remus’ll turn into a psycho bloodthirsty werewolf who’ll gobble up all the kids in a split second. He was somewhat civil and wanted to keep their interactions as minimal as possible—this might suggest Snape was genuinely scared of Remus. Especially since he doesn’t have any of that behaviour when it comes to Sirius, mans did not hold back at ALL. I believe that has a lot to do with the fact that, unlike Remus, Sirius was direct and didn’t hesitate to openly display his loathing of Severus. Harry—our POV—can see the problem with him, Remus, on the other hand, is indirect and passive towards Severus. He acts polite despite knowing their history, he acts polite while still attempting to burnish his friends’ image to Harry by justifying their bullying of him [which is telling since he puts more effort into it than Sirius does. Sirius basically just said “yeah we bullied the git” when Harry confronted them while Remus tries hard to defend their actions, which arguably says a lot about their dynamic since Sirius was undoubtedly more involved in the bullying than Remus ever was]. Snape was willing to be civil with Remus, but he clearly had no respect for him. This isn’t to say Sev respected Sirius (he violated him every 2 seconds in OoTP so definitely not), but it can be said that Severus at least had some respect for Sirius’s directness. Sirius never tried to shift the dynamic between them in front of other people; their feelings towards each other was crystal clear, but with Sev and Remus it’s much more difficult to analyse.

I think that says a lot about what traits Severus prioritises; he hated Sirius, but he never treated him the same way he did with Remus, who he viewed as cowardly and weak. Severus took great offence to being called a coward and showed Gryffindor-level bravery many times throughout the series; he was a strong figure who mastered controlling and shutting down his emotions. Bravery was a big thing in his eyes. He said it himself that people who wore their hearts on their sleeves were fools and easy prey for the Dark Lord, so it certainly wouldn’t be a stretch to say he thinks extremely lowly of people who he believes are weak.

His intelligence is also a big part of his character, not only has he proven to be a brilliant wizard, but he (as I’ve mentioned above) was very emotionally intelligent. It’s no doubt that he takes pride in it, but a very important thing to remember is that he doesn’t brag about it. He’s literally one of the most powerful wizards in the Potterverse, yet he never even makes a remark about it in canon. There were a few moments in the series where we got to see his magical abilities, and it’s still extremely impressive. We know the guy legitimately invented spells and surpassed the curriculum at the mere age of 16, and he’s only gotten more talented over the years. So I think it’s very important that you keep in mind he doesn’t go displaying his brilliance 24/7 (I think that has a lot to do with the element of surprise, he’s a double-agent and likely wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself in that way), but when he does, you better make sure he displays it in more than one way—his emotional understanding can be conveyed through remarks and heated moments, his magical talent can be shown through occasional bursts of magic.

And keep in mind that even with people whose presence he seems to genuinely enjoy, he still has his snark. In his interactions with Minnie and Dumbledore, we see him make sassy and witty remarks (“Would you like me to do it now?” asked Snape, his voice heavy with irony. “Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?” is always gonna be one of the best Snape quotes), and even with Lily, we see in his memories that he has an obvious soft spot for her, but he’s still very… Snapey. So his biting wit definitely isn’t just reserved for People Who Trigger And/Or Annoy Him.

the big changes are that he never meets lily evans, and he is fostered/"adopted" by the malfoys and raised to be a steward from a young age. (abraxas malfoy spends half his introduction going LOOK AT HIM HE'S BRILLIANT and the other half snogging tom riddle while they discuss politics)

ok first of all, goddamn I never thought I’d relate to Abraxas Malfoy this much (snogging Tommy and obsessing over baby!Snape? he just like me fr). Second of all, if he doesn’t meet Lily, who was basically the light who shone on his sad life (*sobs in platonic!Snily*), then is there anyone who takes on a similar role in Sev’s life? Will Lucius and Abraxas raise him like the family he’s never had? Will his life be even sadder than in canon? Because his experiences in his childhood shape out so many aspects of the rest of his life (the evidence is shown by both teen/baby!Snape and adult!Snape, in this essay I will- ), so with these changes it’ll be of great significance to keep this information in mind. (I believe a reread of SWM and TPT will definitely help with this, since those are the only times we’re actually able to see Sev as a young boy.)

(apologies now this isnt a sev/ sirius fic, its wolfstar, but sev and sirius" relationship is important in later chapters.)

*wipes tears* /j Dw lol, any interactions of Sirius and Severus are enough to satisfy me, especially when there’s character development. They’re both such loyal, snarky, headstrong assholes who’d watch the world burn for their loved ones, so seeing scenes of them together is always a blast. A whole lotta Good-cop-Bad-cop vibes.

+ the main thing in Wolfstar fanfics that make me hate them in the first place are its inaccurate portrayals of Sirius and Remus (other characters too, for that matter), but knowing you’re the author makes me confident you’ll make it enjoyable.

they start on,., bumpy terms, but they are both young teenagers - 14? - at the time, and sirius is The Crown Prince, so they don't see each other again, only hear of each other's exploits/ achievements.

eventually, once war breaks out, sirius asks severus to be a part of his council as 'master of war' aka head tactician. but that involves going directly against the malfoys. sev does accept this proposal.

*casually obsessing over this*

im asking i guess about what his train of thought would be? what his motivations might become, how he would evolve, etc etc.

I definitely understand why this requires a lot of thought 😭 However, it highly depends on how life treated him leading up to this moment. Was he still bullied, or was the Malfoy family name enough to protect him? Was he well-groomed, or was he still looked down upon? Did Lucius and Abraxas teach him about pureblood supremacy and raise him Draco-style? Did he still have the same personality? If he was raised like other Malfoys, then I really don’t know, because I think it would require some very big changes with Severus’s character. The only things I’m assuming will completely stay the same are his intelligence, loyalty, capacity for love, and humour.

I personally love a Snape with blurrier morals than in canon. The darker aspect of his character wasn’t as explored as much as I would’ve liked it to be, so this might be an opportunity for you to introduce a (slightly?) darker version of Snape. What usually helps me out with this is thinking about what he must’ve been like when he canonically joined the DEs—his humour, devotion, talents, etc, were all the same. But it was simply a matter of where his loyalties lie, he had always prioritised Lily’s life above all else (even over his own master), that was something that never changed about him. But the problem was it just took him a while to figure it out.

So if you’ll include a Lily-like figure in his life (be it Lucius or anyone else), then I think you should take a bit of inspo from canon. That point in his life where he joined the DEs was likely the lowest/darkest he’s ever been, but like I said, all those qualities we know of were in there somewhere. The moment when Voldemort was basically doomed to screw up was when Snape began to use said qualities to benefit the other side of the war.

The reason he defected from the DEs was because Lily—his loved one—was in danger, it was a personal reason and, to an extent, somewhat selfish. Lily’s safety was his initial motive, her being safe would “benefit” him (by benefit I mean make him not live the rest of his life in guilt and agony <3), so perhaps in this AU Snape’s motive could be one that merely serves his interests. He could think “in the end, this might give me a great opportunity for *this,* maybe agreeing won’t be too bad of an idea,” or something similar to that. If you want character growth, then, like in canon, you can make the initial motive not be the whole motive anymore. He might grow to fight for/believe in what the AU’s about, like he did with the Order’s cause (in the beginning he only did it for Lils, then we see that he genuinely believed in what the Order’s fighting for).

So yeah, I suppose that’s it lol. I seriously hope I helped you out with this because I’m honestly so honoured you came to me for this 😭 If you need help with anything related to Snape (or anything at all), you can always come to me. Have a great day!

#severus snape #pro snape #pro severus snape #snape #anti snaters #harry potter #hp #ask #asks

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years

Text

Dance With Me Under the Stars

@yeah-im-a-fae-deal-with-it, I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun making it and I hope I did the wishes justice. Happy Holidays!! (Much of the imagery was based on the song Volcano by The Vamps.)

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

Word Count: 3993

It was mid semester and Virgil had arrived late to class for the first time in his three years of college. He hurried in quietly, taking his usual seat and pulling his books out. Almost shamefully, he grabbed his homework and walked between the desks to put it on the teacher’s.

He must have had the worst luck in the world as, just then, she turned around. “Ah, Mr. Storm. I was wondering when you’d show up.” Her tone was kind, no note of malice anywhere.

Virgil nodded. “I forgot to set my alarm.” His voice was quiet, barely reaching past the professor.

She nodded with a smile that seemed genuine. “Go back to your seat, please. Just as discussed yesterday, you’ll be debating Mr. Croft in a few minutes.”

Virgil trudged back to his seat, slipping past the others to sit in his usual corner. Feeling eyes on him, he looked up to find Logan Croft, a double major in zoology and astronomy who was taking this class for fun, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Virgil ignored him, turning back to his notebook and doodling in the margins as he waited for the professor to finish taking attendance.

He got through half the page before he was being called up to debate, as per usual. He and Croft were only put against each other as examples or if the lecture finished early. This was mainly due to them both being stubborn in their ways and being able to debate things for hours. Thus, they were both called into her office the day before to confirm the topic and style of the debate.

There they stood, on opposite sides of the same plain. It was a familiar position for the pair during their debates. While many would have seen a peaceful place within that plain, maybe even a spot to build something, the two students only saw a battlefield with the fight yet to be fought, yet to be won. Their words danced across the plain, leaving wounds that didn’t mean a thing outside of that moment. A struggle for dominance raged before, as it always did, they came to be equals that saw eye to eye.

Their debate lasted for the first half of class before they came to some sort of agreement on their topic and sat down to listen to the teacher give a lecture on what just happened. After class, Croft caught up with Virgil on his way out. “That was a good debate today, Storm.” He said. The battlefield was back to a plain, nothing special about it.

Virgil looked at him briefly before just shrugging and walking up the stairs. He didn’t bother to look back or wonder why the student who usually avoided him unless it was during these debates was talking to him. He just knew he needed to get to class.

A day later, he was running to dance class and missed a step. Crashing down the stairs, he landed at the bottom in a haze of pain. He tried to move but found that his vision was blurry and his ankle was broken. Someone nearby gave a shout and he heard footsteps on the stairs. A hand landed on his shoulder and he flinched, coming face to face with the person who lived across the hall from him.

“Virgil, what happened?” Emile said, eyes looking concerned.

The dancer didn’t even lie to the psychology major he knew only in passing. “I fell.” He shook his head, trying to get his vision to focus on something, anything. “My ankle hurts.”

Emile nodded and moved to look at it. Gently pressing, he inspected the joint. Virgil hissed when he pressed on it and Emile sat back. “Yep, that’s broken.” Sighing, he moved to help Virgil to his feet, throwing the dancer’s arm over his shoulders. “I’ve got time before my next class so I’ll take you to the nurse before I go tell you’re dance teacher you won’t be able to make it today.”

Virgil shook his head, hobbling along beside him. “No, I’ll tell her later.”

Emile frowned. “You know Professor Kim is not going to be happy about this development. She was counting on you being there through the whole semester.”

Virgil just laughed, shaking his head. “Since when do you talk with her?”

“Since I came to drop off your lunch that day and she was the only one there. We struck up a conversation about you.”

Virgil nodded. “Fair.”

Emile pushed the door open and sat Virgil in the nurse's office before leaving with a wave, tossing an, “I’ll be back in a bit,” over his shoulder. Virgil waited for the nurse to come and diagnose him, soon being rolled out on a gurney on his way to the hospital to get a cast on his broken ankle. He’d also been told that he had a concussion but that wasn’t the main concern.

A few days later, debate class was back in session and Virgil was there in a cast, crutches by his side. Croft came in and eyed the crutches before setting his bag by his usual chair. He didn’t sit down as Virgil thought he would, rather coming over to stand by Virgil’s seat. He nodded his chin at the cast. “What happened there?”

Virgil was taken aback by the care in his voice, a voice that had previously remained so neutral while talking to him that it was borderline monotone. He shrugged as he continued to grab his books out of his bag. “I fell.”

Croft raised his eyebrows, looking about as convinced as he would if Virgil had just told him the sky was magenta. “You fell? Why don’t I buy that, Storm?”

Virgil shook his head. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t believe the truth, Croft.”

He huffed, his eyes melting into the concern that was evident in his voice. Opening his mouth, he seemed to be about to say something but thought better of it, going to sit down instead just as the professor walked in. She paused by his desk. “Professor Kim told me about the ankle. You don’t have to debate for the rest of the semester if you don’t feel up to it.”

Virgil shook his head. “Standing won’t be a problem as long as I have the crutches.”

She nodded. “Still, I’d like to let you rest for a bit.”

Virgil shrugged. “I’m fully capable of standing and debating but I’ll follow your lead on this.” She gave a final nod and moved to stand at the front of the room to begin class.

Thus, six weeks went by. Virgil did essays on dance and movement instead of performing the dances. Professor Kim insisted on recording the lessons so he’l still be able to do them when he’s recovered, which he was immensely grateful for. Debate class went similarly in that he wasn’t called up as often to debate Croft anymore. Instead, he wrote most of his debates as argumentive papers.

That summer, Virgil stayed on campus. He wasn’t taking a summer course, he was simply trying to follow the videos Professor Kim left for him. He lived nearby anyways so it made sense to keep using the studio on campus. That’s how he ended up running into Croft again on the stairs.

“Oh,” the other student said, bag in hand as he was clearly trying to put his books back in it, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Virgil smiled, holding up the gym bag that had replaced his book bag. “The studio is allowing me to catch up on my dance lessons over the summer.” He paused. He and Croft had never been too cordial with each other, merely remaining civil. However, toward the end of the semester they'd come to some sort of academic truce. Now, they were just normal strangers, just two students. So, Virgil took a chance. “What about you? Why are you still here?”

Croft finally shoved the last book into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m having to retake a class due to low grades.” He shook his head. “I just can’t grasp the subject.”

“What is it?”

Croft sighed. “Psychology.”

Virgil nodded and, on a whim, gave an offer. “I passed Psych with flying colors if you want me to tutor you?”

That plain, that had once been a battlefield before lying dormant, became a meadow in that one moment. No longer a place for duels or violence, but peace and healing. Their once shaky truce seemed to settle, becoming something more permanent, as Croft smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They walked side by side as they discussed times and tactics for studying. They concluded that their only overlapping free time was directly after Virgil was finished with dance practice as that was when Croft got out of his classes and clubs but before Virgil had to go to Professor Kim’s office for office hours.

So, the very next day saw Virgil walking out of the shower room, towel he’d been drying his hair with still in hand, to see Croft leaning against the wall in the hall. “I wasn’t expecting you for another fifteen minutes or so.” Virgil said as he approached.

Croft looked up from the book in his hand. He briefly glanced at the page number before snapping it shut and picking up his bag. “Apologies, I like to be early.”

Virgil just waved his hand as they fell in step beside each other. “It’s fine. Next time, you don’t have to wait in the hall if I’m not in the shower, you can just sit in the room. As long as you’re quiet, you’ll be fine.”

Croft nodded. “Noted, thank you.”

They made it to the library and sat down, both pulling out books. When Croft gave Virgil a puzzled look, he laughed a bit. “I’ve brought my notes and blank copies of homework to use as practice problems. First, I want to gauge just how bad off you are.” he set down the cumulative final review. “Fill this out to the best of your ability.” Croft set to work, a serious expression on his face. Virgil didn’t want to twiddle his thumbs while waiting so he pulled out his phone and opened it to a new note, beginning to plan out his evening.

Once that was done, he looked up to see Croft with his tongue sticking out slightly, hair in his eyes, and eyes focused on the page. Strangely, there was something beautiful about the concentrated look on his face. Maybe it was the way the sunlight dramatized it and cast his eyes into shadows, making Virgil want to stare until he could see where the iris ended and the pupil began; maybe it was the way his hair framed his face in a way that made Virgil want to pull out a sketchbook.

Feeling self conscious at that thought, he looked back down at his phone and ignored the other student until he heard a pencil connect with the table. “Alright, Storm, I’m done.”

Virgil nodded and slid the page over to himself, quickly checking it against the answer sheet he’d made up. He gave Croft a grade, circled it, and slid it back. A sharp intake of breath came back as Virgil pulled a clean piece of paper closer to himself and began to write down what needed to be worked on.

“Is it really that bad?” Croft’s voice came from Virgil’s side.

He paused in his writing to look up at his former academic rival. He shrugged. “It could be worse. You don’t seem to be too bad off right now and we’re gonna try to get you to where you need to be as soon as possible.”

Croft nodded and away they went. The next few weeks were spent in a new routine. Croft would wait in the hall if Virgil was in the shower but most times Virgil had lost track of time and gone over, resulting in Croft sitting in the corner reviewing definitions. A few times, one of his clubs wouldn’t meet and he’d get out earlier than normal. Those were the times that Croft would sit in and make sure Virgil wasn’t putting too much strain on his ankle and was properly hydrating. Those were the times they’d strike up a bit of witty banter that reminded them of their debates but on a personal level that the debate class was lacking.

One step at a time, they came closer on that meadow until they were standing side by side, leaning on the other. As they grew closer, the meadow rose as if two tectonic plates were pushing it toward the sky. Over the course of that one season, the meadow had become a mountain of a friendship. Their banter began to spread outside of just those rare moments, becoming a constant part of their meetings, tutor sessions, and walks.

It wasn’t long before the summer semester ended and they had a few weeks of vacation before the next semester. As the days shortened and the leaves turned colors, Virgil almost expected Croft to go on his way. After all, the agreement was done. Virgil had finished learning all the moves he’d needed and Croft had passed his classes with the usual flying colors.

Still, tutor sessions turned into chats over coffee, dancing changed to walks in the park, but their late night talks on the way back to their apartment building stayed the same. Virgil enjoyed that constant, knowing that no matter what else happened that day, he could walk back to the apartment building with Croft. It was one such walk that it struck him. In all their time together, he’d gotten closer to Croft and no longer saw him as the academic rival they’d been at the start of the year. Instead, he saw him as a friend, or even more than that.

Just when Virgil was satisfied and comfortable with the balance they’d created together, fate tossed a spark gently onto the mountain. In that instance, the mountain turned into a volcano. In that one instant of time, Virgil had fallen for Logan Croft and he knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had no idea how he’d tell him, or even if he would tell him. After all, volcanoes can stay dormant for years before going extinct or erupting. Virgil could just wait and hope it was the former or deal with the latter.

The next few weeks were much the same as that with the exception that Virgil was noticing every little thing that Logan did. He noticed the way he leaned toward Virgil as they talked, the way his focus was entirely on the dancer during conversations. Logan was always walking on Virgil’s left side, the ankle he’d broken mid spring semester that acted up occasionally but especially on stairs. He noticed Logan holding doors for him or smiling at him for no particular reason.

All of this gave Virgil a spark of hope in his chest that had him wondering if Logan liked him back. That spark was almost crushed one afternoon. They had just gotten their coffee and started their usual round about the park when Logan spoke. “I might not be able to do the full rotation today, Storm. I’ve got a date with Roman later.”

Virgil felt like his chest had just been stomped on. “. . . A date?” He didn’t know how he kept his voice steady when his heart was breaking, getting closer and closer to shattering the more he thought about those two words.

Logan tilted his head to the sides. “Maybe ‘date’ is the wrong word for it. It’s more like a meet-up.”

Virgil nodded, pretending he hadn’t been holding his breath through that whole exchange. “Okay, when do you have to leave?”

“About half an hour.” He turned and smiled. “Plenty of time.”

Virgil smiled and walked ahead, turning to face Logan as he walked backwards. Logan shook his head. “That’s not the safest way to travel, you know.”

Virgil just shrugged. “There’s worse ways to travel.” He also got to see the rare grin that spread across the zoology major’s face, not that he would tell said student that.

Their walk in the park ended with them standing at the entrance. “I’ll see you later, Storm.” Logan said by way of parting.

“Wait! Later as in tomorrow or later as in-”

He laughed, something that was even more rare than his grin but something Virgil longed to hear more often. “Later today.” Virgil nodded, walking back to his apartment alone.

On a whim, he grabbed his gym bag, stuffing his dance shoes in it, and went to the studio. He scrolled through his playlist as he entered before just hitting shuffle and letting the music play as he got ready. He waited for the next song and took a second to identify it before throwing his hoodie off and moving to the center of the room.

He went with the music, letting his body flow in whatever way it wanted. Incorporating all the moves he’d learned over the past few months into a cohesive whole that was both as graceful as saplings in the wind but as sharp as the flapping of cloth. He danced to forget his troubles and anxieties, letting them bleed into the movements. A faster song came on and he changed his movements to match, becoming sharper as he let himself get lost in the music, lost to the beat of his feet against the floor, the feeling of the air on his sweat, the feeling of dancing and being free and feeling on top of the world.

When the playlist ended and his muscles were screaming for him to rest, he collapsed onto the floor, panting for breath. When he felt like he could stand, he moved to check his phone clock and found that he’d spent the whole afternoon dancing. Quickly, he showered and made his way back to his apartment. He was still overheated after dancing for a few hours straight so he just had his hoodie slung over his arm, his gym bag over his other shoulder.

He got back to his apartment to see Logan with a fist raised to knock. Smiling, he moved around him and unlocked it. “Come on in.” He dropped his keys in the little bowl on the entrance way table. “I’ve just gotta put this stuff away but it won’t be long.”

Logan smiled, standing comfortably in the entryway. “Take your time, Storm, I’m not going anywhere.”

For a brief moment, Virgil wondered what his first name would sound like in Logan’s voice. He didn’t dwell on it, instead he nodded, ducking into his bedroom to store his bag where it belonged. Taking a second to put on some extra deodorant and move his hair around so it looked semi-styled instead of the mess it was before, he took a deep breath. The scare of losing him that afternoon had made Virgil realize that he needed to act fast before he lost Logan for real.

So, he kept the hoodie across his arm as he went back out and picked up the keys again. “Ready to go?”

Logan nodded. “Quite.”

Virgil held the door open for him, locking it on his way out. They started down the path in relative silence, the only noise being the crunching of gravel beneath their feet and the sounds of life coming from nearby buildings. Virgil was hesitant to break the silence despite the feelings and words bubbling below his surface. Logan also seemed comfortable in the lack of conversation. They made it to a bench that was out of the way and sat on it to stargaze for a bit.

Virgil tilted his head back, resting it on the back of the bench. His eyes scanned the sky, resting on different stars and connecting them into constellations. After another while of silence, Logan shivered beside Virgil and the dancer turned his head, looking at the astronomy major. “Are you cold?” His voice broke the silence like a sheet of ice falling from a slope.

Logan shrugged. “A bit. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Virgil hummed and threw his hoodie over the other. “No use in you getting cold when this is right here.”

Logan didn’t react beyond tilting his head down just the slightest bit. He hummed, taking a breath before speaking. “Apologies again for having to end our afternoon walk early.”

Virgil waved his hand. “It’s fine. In fact, it actually gave me time to think.”

Logan looked over at him, eyes inquisitive behind his square black frames. “What about?”

Virgil took a deep steadying breath of the night air before he turned to face Logan just a bit more on the bench. “About you, actually. I realized something when you said you had a date with Roman.”

Logan nodded, his gaze sharpening as his attention seemed to hone in on Virgil. “Okay.”

Virgil fiddled with the rips in his jeans, suddenly anxious. “I realized that if I didn’t act now, someone else might be walking by your side in the park, laughing with a coffee in hand. Someone else might have the door you knock on late at night when you can’t sleep, be the person you debate with over the phone into the early hours of the morning.” He took another deep breath, not looking up at the wonderful human sitting in front of him, the one who deserved the world. “I realized that I love you and can’t stand the thought of another person getting to hold your hand and kiss you goodnight.” He turned his head so he was staring out into the night rather than at Logan. “There, I said it. I love you. I love you so much my chest aches.”

Logan hummed in a way that Virgil couldn’t interpret before there was the rustling of fabric and Logan was kneeling before Virgil, one hand hovering near the dancer’s cheek. “I’m glad you told me as it makes what I’m going to say much easier.” Virgil’s eyes widened slightly, fearing the next thing to come past Logan's lips.

“I love you too. Honestly, I think I’ve loved you since the start of the fall semester. The way you helped me study, putting things into ways I can understand and bending over backwards to do so. The care you take with everything you do, the grace in your every move, the fire and passion you put into your dancing, I love all of you.”

Virgil couldn’t believe what he was hearing but his nerves settled when Logan’s soft expression didn't change, didn’t turn to a sneer, he didn’t laugh or mock Virgil. Elated, he leaned forward but paused before he could connect their lips. Logan smiled at the quiet ask for consent and leaned in with him, closing the distance and bringing him into a kiss. His hovering hand settled on Virgil’s cheek as Virgil’s hand came up to cradle the back of Logan’s neck, neither wanting to let go.

When they pulled apart, they were both smiling. Logan pulled the hoodie tighter around his shoulders before standing, offering a hand to Virgil to stand as well. An idea came to him and Virgil put his hand in his pocket, pulling his phone out to play a few ballads. “Dance with me under the stars?”

Logan grinned, sliding his hands to be around Virgil’s neck. “I’d love nothing more.”

So, the two did just that, dancing the hour away under the midnight stars. In the arms of the one they loved, the same person who had been their greatest enemy at the start of the year, neither could ask for a better way to spend their time.

#college au #virgil sanders #logan sanders #analogical #roman sanders #ct emile #emile picani #angst with a happy ending #light angst #broken ankle #ace writes #I've had this ready to go for two months now and couldn't wait to post it

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fiftyshadesofanxiety · 2 years

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Welcome!

Welcome to my Room! Bungo stray dogs ,moral orel, and classical literature themed! There's a little bit of everything about me in here, it gets a little chaotic. I'm finally using my tumblr acc and im not sure where to start, so please do interact! C:

About the Author! Hey there! I go by she/her pronouns. General rudeness will not be tolerated and I expect civil discussions of all topics :). I am open to all ideas, including problematic content (once again, please ignore if I disturb you). Oh, and I really like the color green. Not sure how much importance that holds. Feel free to ask me anything, as long as you're respectful to others and yourself! <3 Short stories and fanfiction are my forte, and I do plan on sharing them here. I take writing requests if you are so kind to give me the privilege of allowing me to carry them out. I draw, sometimes. Although, im not exactly confident in my artistic capabilities, im sure that one day I might post them here ;"). You can also probably find my short drabbles on life here as well. I enjoy discussion on the issues underneath the skin of the world, philosophical arguments are always intriguing. I just ask that everyone be respectful. Currently im reading the Handmaid's tale, crime and punishment, titus andronicus, and the Body meets the score (not classical, but a great read for those that are interested in studying childhood trauma). I would love it if you were to give book recs! I am running out ;') ___________________________________________________________ Blog Rules! Just be respectful, if you disagree with something, that's ok! Dispute your opinion in a respectful manner. However, when it comes to fiction, if you don't like something, ignore it. Please. It gives creators so much more breathing space and freedom. I understand that people have differing ideas about what they believe to be right and wrong in fiction, all I ask is that you keep that kind of debate out of fiction in this blog. We should just spread love C: My Requests are open! Please feel free to ask me anything or if you want something written, I am also here. The only things that I will not write are: -ANYTHING encouraging or affirming homophobic, transphobic, or racist content. Please give me time to finish your request! :C I've been super busy of late and I cannot guarantee that I will get to it. I won't be able to get to all of them! -------------------------------------------------------------- Bungo Stray Dogs:

-Please talk to me about Dazai. Oh my god. I swear this man has taken over my life and he doesn't even exist. -I swear he could do anything to me and id count it as a blessing. ____________________________________________________

Moral Orel:

-Oh my god. -This show. -There's like two people in this fandom total, but that's ok. The characters are incredibly complex psychologically and I've taken a liking to it. If you want to spend five hours discussing them with me (you probably dont) THEN DO IT. -Or if you want to talk about nurse bendy. I love her. And everything about her. _________ oh yeah and if you want to talk about the psychological value of every spongebob episode to ever exist ig im here too but idk I think im the only person that does that -------------------------------

New blog as of 7/18/22! So please do interact!

#bungo stray dogs #moral orel #dazai

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violetnotez · 4 years

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Is the this the longest fic Ive ever written? Yes. Does it suck? Also yes. Will nobody read it because it makes no sense but Im still going to post because I wasted way too much damn on this thing? TRIPLE YES.

Word count: 10.4k words (she thicc)

Genre: Angst and Fluff, sfw

AU: Fantasy AU!, Hanahaki disease

Prompt: “How could your keep this from?”

Warnings: blood

Summary: You are born into a worls where you must marry your best friend, Prince Shoto, in order to unite your kingdoms in harmony. You are happy to marry your childhood friend and love, until he leaves for a quest unannounced, and you are left questioning if you really want to marry him. Once he returns a few weeks before your planned wedding, you begin to not fall in love with him, but one of his comrades- the barbarian, Bakugo.

*this is for the even for @bnhabookclub! Heres the link to the post if your interested!

Again. welcome to the shitshow that is my blog. read at your own risk cause this gets REAL WIERD REAL QUICK

Petals-all you could see were the petals.

Your mouth and throat felt so dry, your forehead damp with sweat as your back convulsed painfully, raspy coughs wracking out of your chest as you forced the petals out of your body.

They were so pale, like creamy vanilla, a stark contrast from the droplets of your blood splattered on the delicate buds.

You quickly reached for your handkerchief, wiping the residue off your dry mouth in fear of it dribbling on to your white dress-your wedding dress. Your hands were shaking, unable to cry any more tears at your misery-you had come to terms many weeks ago that you were going to reach an unhappy end.

Why did it have to be him?

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You were the princess of your kingdom, destined to marry Prince Shoto of the neighboring kingdom. It was something you two had been accustomed to from birth- in order to connect the two kingdoms and end the quarrels between the two civilizations, you had to marry. It would be a harmonious marriage: Prince Shoto was kind, soft spoken, and a natural born leader. You two had been wonderful friends as siblings, your fathers putting away their troubles in order for you two to get along. They were hoping that by making you friends at a young age, you would learn to grow feelings for each other.

For a time, it worked-you had fallen for Prince Shoto, his soft yet powerful demeanor making you blush each time you remembered him, your young hands writing your name with his last in your journal like a prayer. At 13 you already began to count down the days until you would turn 18, because on that day, you were set to marry your predestined lover- Shoto Todoroki.

For years you had felt so lucky you were blessed with such a sweet boy to be with, being able to live out your lives harmoniously and in peace, something both your parents didn't have the luxury to have. It sometimes left you feeling frustrated- Shoto was truly kind, but very quiet about his thoughts. Your love felt one sided, Shoto seemingly only tolerating you because he had to.

Once he got older, he became more distant towards you, clearly wishing to rebel against his father’s wishes by being distant towards you. It hurt you immensely to see your best friend and crush plainly reject you, but you still held on to the hope that you two could be happy with each other. Yet all that changed when the Prince had left for a quest.

He had been gone for what seemed like an eternity and for a time, you were extremely worried. You could barely focus on your studies, only imagining your poor friend somewhere cold, hungry, and alone. You knew he would be fine, he was a resilient fighter, but yet you couldn't help but allow the worrisome thoughts to collect in your brain. After news that the Prince was in a neighboring kingdom, safely traveling with a young boy, a witch, and a warrior, you felt at ease- with all those comrades, he was sure to be safe. You finally breathed a sigh of relief, able to calm your anxieties after a long time of being unable to.

Information continued to trickle in, sometimes good and sometimes bad, but it always stated that the Prince was spotted safe and sound. You took solace in that information, and for awhile, you began to worry less and less about Shoto, until he was barely a memory.

During that time, you had begun to take on the habit of reading. Before it was a task you simply did when forced or extremely bored, only reading books and stories from your own kingdom.

With so much extra time on your hands waiting upon the Prince to return, you began to learn of other stories, ones that were trully a delight to you: stories of nomads who traveled the country and did rituals to bring them fortunes, women who sold potions by gathering mystical ingredients from the woods, people choosing their own destines and their own paths. It intrigued you- from birth you had one mission for your life: to unite your kingdoms. Once you married Prince Shoto, your destiny would be complete: and then what would you do? You had no other purpose, except being a symbol of that peace for the rest of your life, sitting pretty on a throne until your last breath.

It began to eat at your insides, gnaw at your conscience that you were merely a pawn in your father’s legacy. You could now fully understand why Shoto had been so defiant: he had realized the truth of his life as well.

Slowly, you began to learn to dread instead of anticipate your wedding day. With the Prince being gone, it was sending quite a ruckus in your home, your father more annoyed with each passing day that the Prince had not come back. You, on the other hand, rejoiced. The kings had both agreed at your times of birth that if anything happened to either child before your 18th birthday, the agreement would be cancelled and the marriage no more. They would rely on their children to fix their broken ties.

You had just turned 17, the mental clock beginning to tick in you and your father’s minds, as the Prince still wasn't back form his quest. Just a few more months, and you would both have your wishes: Shoto seemed to have no interest in marrying you, and why should you even for that matter? You two truly didnt love each other- your friendship was a hoax your fathers had created in order to save their own legacies. Your love for each other was man-made and a lie. Just a few more months, and you'd be free of this terrible fate.

------------

The day you turned 17 and a half, you were busying yourself on your plush pink bed, reading another novel about free spirited women in a far off land.

“Princess y/n,” your hand maiden opened the door quietly, afraid of disturbing you, “the King would like to speak with you.”

You gave your shy handmaiden a small smile, delicately marking the spot in your book as your feet landed on the cold floor.

“Thank you,” you replied, “Ill be there shortly.”

You entered your father’s study, his feet stomping the room heavily as he paced in deep thought.

The room was grand, a golden chair sitting in front of an old ebony desk, the room surrounded by maps, battle plans, and bookcases full of legends of stories written long before your time. Light flitted through long windows against the wall, looking out to the rural countryside and a matching red carpet run the lengths of the stone floors.

Your entrance seemed to have disturbed your Father’s train of thought, his head instantly looking to see who had interrupted him. Once he saw it was you, he sighed, greeting you with a tight smile.

“You wished to see me Father?’ you asked politely, your fingers tugging nervously at the sleeves of your dress. Your father never called upon you unless it was extremely important- had you done something wrong? You wracked your mind for any actions that would had been unwise for your father to find out, but to your surprise, you couldnt think of a single thing you had done.

“Yes, yes,” your father said hastily, waving his hands toward a small wooden chair at the foot of his desk, “please-sit. We have much to discuss.”

You sat on the hard chair, a chill traveling your back as you watched your father sit in his plush throne, his face clearly tired.

“As we all know, Prince Shoto has been on a quite a long quest for some time,” your father began, his voice deep with annoyance, “and has not come back. And with your 18th birthday fast approaching, and it worries me that the boy wont be back in time for your marriage. I have talked to King Todoroki about my worries, who also had the same fear, and he promised to bring the boy back and end his little shenanigan. But Shoto refuses to leave until his quest is complete.”

Your father took in a deep breath through his nose, his face a mix of anger and agitation.

Your heart beat excitedly- the prince wasnt coming back? The news bounced happily inside you, giving you some hope that you needed- that must have been why he had gone on that quest in the first place! Even though you were excited, you felt a tightness in your chest- you were childhood firend after all. He really didnt like you that much that he felt he had to run away?

“Oh dont look so solemn daughter,” your father comforted, his voice soft with sympathy,” Shotos father allowed the boy to finish his quest in 5 months’ time, and he is forced to return to his kingdom. In the meantime, we can not forget the whole reason for your marriage like young Todoroki has- you must connect the kingdoms in order to bring harmony.``

“Which is why,” your father added, “we must begin to plan the wedding.”

Your head shot up, the feeling of shock flooding your body. It was still going to happen? Your body began to feel heavy, your father's words fuzzy against your ear- you didn't want this, any of this. You felt trapped like a songbird in a cage, unable to scream out what you desperately wanted to say: if he didnt love you, you didnt want any part of this.

Your father seemed to not notice the look of terror on your face, continuing to inform you of his plan. “We already have sent out invitation to relatives and noblemen in other countries, as well as begin to plan out the festivities. It will be a 3 day event, full of food and parties and, of course, the celebration of our kingdoms coming together. The closer to the date, we will begin to need you for fittings of your dresses as well as rehearse your wedding vows and such. I promise I will make this as wonderful as I can, for you are my only daughter.”

The king smiled at you, wrapping your stiff body into a hug. You could barely feel his embrace- the world was numb to your screaming mind. You wished upon everything in you to end this, to make this all go away, but you knew you couldn't- you would be forced to do this whether you wanted to or not.

You simply nodded your head to your father’s parting words, and then ran to your quarters, shutting the door and ceremoniously throwing yourself on your bed in defeat.

--------------

For days you felt numb and broken, all fight leaving your body. You watched as all your handmaidens and servants ran like chickens around the castle, preparing for the enormous festivities coming in close time. You were a good and proper princes, silently placid and allowing everything around you to happen.

Flower arrangements, samples of sweets, and fabrics for your dresses all came to you, and you agreed to all of them or just randomly choose. You could care less for your “special day”- the only thing you could truly hope for was prince Shoto ignoring his father’s wishes and not coming back.

That, of course, was a wishful fantasy. You were having a blissful dream when your hand maiden barged into your room, clearly too excited to be considerate of your sleeping state.

“Miss y/n! Miss y/n! Oh please wake up! There is most wonderful news!” she cried excitedly, gently pulling the covers off your body, “You must get ready at once!”

“Prince Shoto- he is back from his quest!”

---------

The whole of the kingdom rejoiced at the news, since he had arrived a month before the wedding. He was here, ready to marry and unite the kingdom. That was all that truly mattered.

Your handmaiden dressed you in your most elegant gown, the icy aqua color bringing out the rosiness of your cheeks, as she placed pearly ornaments in your hair. You felt like you were being presented as a gift to the Prince, a reminder of what he was destined to do. You sighed, dreading having to reunite with your once friend and secret love.

Shoto was standing in the ballroom of your castle, very accustomed to it since you both played here occasionally as children. He was used to the golden floors and the crystal chandeliers the sizes of boulders, all hung gracefully in a row on the ebony ceiling. Him and his company were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the polished staircase cascading towards them.

He looked at his new found friend’s faces, their expressions clearly in shock. Izuku, his face ruddy with dirt and his cheeks aflame from nervousness as he twisted his shirt between his fingers (a nervous tick Shoto had noticed). Uraraka gawked at the room around her in awe, her wide eyes drinking up the scene in front of her. Bakugo was least impressed, his arms crossed in front of his exposed chest and his eyes formed in judgmental slits.

Shoto had told the others before why he had to go back, but only after the quest was over- he wanted to help his new found friends, and after promising to help them in their battle, he would have felt extremely guilty leaving them behind.

Their reactions were mixed when he revealed he had a marriage in a few weeks time- Izuku was clearly shocked yet in awe hed be marrying a princess, while Uraraka seemed to find the situation romantic. Bakugo simply laughed, mocking him from being such a “sissy” for actually getting married in the first place.

Shoto was feeling conflicted inside at the moment- it had been so long since he had last seen you, and when he had, he was less than kind to you. He was quiet, distant, and quite petty about the whole situation of your marriage. You had turned barely 17 when he left, his young body desperate for some adventure and resilient to his father’s wishes. He merely saw you as a nuisance, someone in the way of his freedom. He knew it was unkind and unjustified, you didn't know what was going on inside him, but he was angry nevertheless and desperate to leave. So when he was approached by young boy in need of a friend for his quest, it was hard to resist the offer.

But as nights when on and he had time to be alone with his thoughts, his mind always seemed to travel to you. The way you giggled, your laughs sounding like chimes in the wind, or how your smile always seemed to make his skin tingle with warmth.

You were always a strange girl, but always in the best way, daring Shoto to races even thought your father said it was “unlike a princess to do so” or trying to braid Shoto’s mix-matched hair.

He would never forget the day he had allowed you to do so, your nimble fingers soft against his skin and making him burn up from nervousness. Your touch was so calming and soothing, your small compliments and soft voice sending his soul soaring with pleasure. It was then he realized he had loved you for you, not because he was forced to.

Shoto felt guilty for forgetting those cherished memories in his fits of anger, but he had agreed to help Izuku and he vowed to not give up on that promimse. Months went on, and Shoto couldnt tell how much time had passed: he only hoped you were doing okay without him.

It wasnt until his father had came to collect him that he realized how short he was on time. He had still stuck by his friends, yet the constant reminders of your wedding was in the air, haunting him. They would travel through kingdoms, the whispers of this event following him as the townspeople began to talk. It was a wonder his friends never caught on except him, only to find out weeks before your wedding.

Now Shoto was standing in the ballroom, feeling quite nervous- he hadnt seen you in so long….would you look any different? He was certain your beauty had grown by then, the thought of you looking older and more womanly bringing a blush to his cheeks. How would you see him? He had become quite a different person on his quest, his body becoming more hardened from battles with bandits and the harsh life of travelling. Would you feel the same for him still? Were you just as excited as you were so many years ago to finally be together?

Shoto heard the clicks of shoes on the wooden floor, a man with the straightest back he had ever seen standing proudly at the steps of the stairs.The man took a deep breath, his voice traveling through the room as he announced your arrival to the group of travelers.

Yet Shoto didnt hear a single word he said- he was enraptured by your beauty. You had seemed to turn into a fine young woman since he had last seen you, your curves accentuated by the tightness of your gown, the blue complimenting you perfectly. Your hair flowed in soft ringlets on your back, the pearls in your hair like stars. You were an angel blessed to this planet- an angel he was destined to marry.

The only thing that was worrying him was your expression- he had expected you to seem so much more lively, welcoming the bright smile you would always give him when you saw him. But now, your face was gone of any warmth, looking almost numb to the situation as you looked down at the group.

You traveled down the stairs, hating the way your name sounded in the announcer's voice. This was all so cliche- the Prince comes from a quest, and there is the Princess, simply a prize for his hardwork. A trophy of sorts for doing a good deed. Why did it have to be this why? Why couldnt you feel anything? The world had felt so cold for so long, feeling trapped due to the lack of control you had. Everything had seemed to loose its splendor and color, your vision for weeks turning gray in sadness-

Until you saw him.

The ash blonde boy, his hair unruly and his eyes a bright red like blood. He was clad in strange clothes, like a barbarian, his chest completely open and showcasing his taut muscles. You were intrigued by him- you had only seen likes of him in books and stories you read. He was so different, so menacing, and you wanted to know more. He was the only thing you could focus on, not taking any time to look at the others in the group, including Shoto.

Shoto was the first to reach you, unafraid to approach you like the rest of the group as you reached the bottom of the steps.

“Y/n-” he said, his voice deep and airy, “you look-wonderful.”

You gave him a small smile, but it made his heart sink- you didnt look happy at all. It seemed forced, far from the bright grins you used to send his way all the time.

“As do you, Shoto. You look quite different from when we last saw each other.”

You quickly turned your attention away from him, focusing on his new comrades instead.

“I assume these are the young heroes that accompanied you on your journey?”

“Y-yes!” the young boy with the unruly green hair stuttered, nervously bowing his head. He was quite adorable in a way, his small stature and freckles dusted on his cheeks giving him a child-like quality (even though he was most likely your age). “My name is Izuku Midoriya!”

You gave a reassuring smile to the young boy, trying to make him feel comfortable.

“It is wonderful to meet you Izuku.”

You began to walk towards the girl know, her pointy yet colorful hat signaling that she was a light witch, a sorceress who used your powers for good.

The girl shimmied in her dusty boots, clearly as nervous as the boy. She lifted the corners of her cloth dress, bowing slightly.

“My name is Ochaco Uraraka, your highness,” she smiled sweetly, her cheeks dusted in a pinky glow.

“Ochaco…” you mused over the name, its sound foregin yet light on your tongue, “you are a light witch, I assume?”

“Yes, yes I am!” the girl practically squealed, relief seemingly flooding her face. ‘How did you know?”

You giggled a her amazement at you, completely unaware apparently that she had the most witch-like outfit you had ever seen.

“A lucky guess,” you shrugged your shoulders playfully as you began to walk again, your heart beginning to race as you edged toward the barbarian.

You stopped in front of the man, his stature a head taller than yours. You eyes looked slightly up at him, your cheeks reddening- he was much more handsome up close, his rugged features making you feel breathless. He un-apologetically judged you with his vermilion eyes, looking you up and down with scorn.

Why did you find that so attractive?

“And you are-”

“My name is Bakugo.” he instantly interrupted you, his voice deep and velevty like syrup, “thats all you need to know.”

“Bakugo?” Your brain searched for any name similar to that, but found none- this boy was definitely a foreigner, most likely from far off lands you could only dream of. You had no idea why he followed Shoto back to the kingdom, but you were happy he did- he was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

“A warrior, I assume by your garments,” you nodded, your eyes trailing to his torso “and by the looks of your scars, an experienced one.”

He scoffed at your observations, his eyes rolling in his sockets.

“For a princess, your eyes wander a damn lot. But yeah- Im hella of a good warrior. Best in the kingdoms.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his language, your cheeks red by his comment. He was so unapologetic and rude, yet- it was intoxicating to you.

“I’m glad to here that.”

Shoto was eyeing you sadly the whole time- what was so different between you two? Why did you seem so welcoming to the others but so distant to him? His face began to turn red with fury as he watched you interact with Bakugo, the way Bakugo insulted you so plainly and cockily making him want to yell. He watched as your face had light up for just a moment when you spoke with him, something Shoto didn't get the luxury to experience.

He also noticed what Bakugo had vocalized- you eyes did wander when you looked at him. Shoto at first tried to rationalize that you were simply being curious, since Bakugo was definitely a strange sight for you, but the way your cheeks blushed and you smiled so warmly at him made him think otherwise.

What did you see in that barbarian that you didnt with Shoto?

You looked again at the odd group, taking a deep breath through your lungs.

“I want to congratulate you all for your successful quest,” you began, the lines slightly rehearsed, “and as thanks from my father for bringing back Prince Shoto, he would like to welcome you all for dinner tonight. We would love to hear all about your journey then,” you then snuck one last look at Bakugo, his eyes boaring into yours. It was making you feel a warmth inside that you had thought long ceased.

You instantly looked down at your hands, your cheeks feeling hot. You knew this was wrong- you shouldn't feel smitten for any other boy, especially this warrior, yet you couldnt help it- you were entranced by his resilience and the freedom he had, something you could only dream of.

“If youll excuse me, I have - things to attend to. It was a pleasure to see you all” you gave the group a tight smile, turning your back quickly from the group to follow your handmaiden back to your quarters.

Shoto watched you until you were gone, his heart beating painfully. He wished he could run up to you, grab you by your wrist and ask you what was the matter. It was still him, your friend for all those years, and you were still you, his love and his best friend. Were you beginning to forget, like he did? He felt his stomach drop painfully at the idea- he would ask you, tonight. He would figure out what had happened between you two, and fix it.

--------------

You were now at dinner, sitting stiffly as you moved your food around your plate, your tight corset making you feel un-hungry. All night you had been detached and quiet, feeling almost sick by your surroundings. Your father was overly outgoing to the guest,giving you side-eyed glances and trying to enter you in the conversation. You would simply smile and nod, occasionally throwing in a comment before returning to squishing your food between your utensils.

The only time you ever seemed interested was when Bakugo would speak. His comments were all snarky and rude, completely self centered about how strong or intelligent he was.

He was constantly proving his worth throughout the dinner, taking over the story of their journey when he saw fit, making sure everyone knew he was the most capable one of the group. It was obscene, his remarks, his language, even his personality, but- you were intrigued by it. The only person he had to listen to was himself. It was so intoxicating to watch him talk, to hear what other remarks would leave his mouth. Whenever he spoke, you stood up a little straighter, taking time to take in any information he gave about himself and immortalize it into your brain.

Shoto had felt awkward the whole meal, not knowing how to gauge your emotions. You seemed so distant, as if a stranger was sitting next to him. He wished he could enter your mind, detangle all the emotions and thoughts that were keeping you from being yourself around him. There was no laughter, no genuine smiles, no happiness came from you. This bothered him- you were usually so cheerful. His nervousness was eating the inside of his stomach, as his mind still couldn't figure out how to approach you after dinner.

“-and the wedding will be a three day celebration, full of festivities,” your father continued boisterously, his voice booming embarrassingly around the room, “Shoto and y/n will be the main attention, of course, over 200 noblemen will see them share vows-”

The sound of your chair pushing away echoed throughout the dining hall, making the whole group look to you. You cleared your throat delicately, a hand resting on your chest.

“Excuse me for my rudeness, but Im feeling- unwell,” you sighed a quick smile.

“Are you alright, do I need to-” the king asked, his eyes full of concern as you shook of his worries.

“Oh no, Im completely fine- just a headache,” you gave a pained smile, “I hope you all enjoy the rest of the meal.”

Shoto watched you walk away, desperate to make sure he knew which way you went in this large castle. He instantly pushed away from the table as well, rising quietly.

“I- uh-am full, thank you for the meal,” he bowed to the King slightly, placing his napkin on his plate as he rushed out, confusing the group that was left.

Izuku and Ochaco looked at each other, their cheeks red with embarrassment and shock as they looked at Bakugo, who was clearly not bothered by the disturbance. Ochaco then looked at the king, who was clearly confused by the whole ordeal, as an awkward air lay heavy on the table.

Ochaco hastily took a large bite from her plate, filling her mouth with food- “MMMMMM!” she exaggerated, trying to start up conversation again, “I LOVE the ham!”

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Shoto ran around the castle, looking through every corridor and door, searching for you.His head was racing, trying to organize his thoughts in his minds. He needed to figure out how to speak to you- should he act normal, like nothing was wrong? Should he be formal and see how that went? Angry? Upset? He didnt know how to approach you, but he knew he had to do it.

He finally saw your gown turn an empty hallway, his feet picking up pace. He quickly was able to catch up once he could pin point your location, his hand wrapping around your wrist in order to stop you.

You felt slender,cool fingers wrap around your skin, making your body run cold. You instantly jumped by the sudden touch, all breath leaving your body as you turned around quickly.

Your wide eyes met the mix matched orbs of Shoto, a small pang of annoyance filling your body from getting so scared.

“Shoto,” you replied breathlessly, slightly happy though it was only him and not somebody else that had grabbed you.

“I-uh-y/n,” he replied back, his mind going blank.

He let go of your wrists, his hands resting at the side of his body. “I-Im sorry to scare you like that,” he apologized, “I just- wanted to speak to you. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at the boy, his eyes now averting yours, probably from nerves. You decided to listen, turning your body to him.

“Apology accepted,” you said plainly, “What did you want to speak about?”

Shoto drew a blank- what did he want to talk about? He loved hearing your voice, finally only reserved for him, but yet you seemed preoccupied. Distant. Like you were on another world and not truly there with him.

He stared at you lightly, looking extremely conflicted. “I-I wanted to talk to you about what happened while I was gone.”

“You explained quite plainly what happened on your journey,” you replied, clearly not in the mood to talk, “I applaud you for your bravery, it must have been quite a difficult journey-” you gave him a small bow, your eyes gone of any warmth. “I really must go to bed, Im sorry, but i do feel-”

You began to walk away again, Shoto desperate to keep you near him. He walked in font you, blocking your path.

“You didnt here me correctly-” he changed his wording this time, trying to be as specific as possible. “I want to know what happened to you while I was gone.”

You eyebrows turned down in confusion. “What are you trying to say Shoto?”

He swallowed, trying to clear his dry throat as he licked his lips, conflicted.

“You seem-different.”

“Its been a year and a half since I last saw you, Shoto,” you reasoned, “of course Ill be different.”

“Yes, but-” he paused, “youre too different. Youre not the same y/n I knew.”

“Why? Because Im not following you around like a love sick puppy?” Annoyance began to bubble inside, feeling attacked by Shoto’s words. “Because I finally got over the fact you didnt love me ? You dont have to pretend Shoto, I know full well you only see me as a nuisance.”

Shock flooded Shoto’s system as your icy words pierced his skin. What happened to you? Yes, he was rude to you before he left, but he didnt feel like that anymore. That was a simple phase, were you going to define him by that?

“I dont see you as a nuisance, y/n.”

“Really?” you scoffed at his words. “then tell me why your father had to go out to find you twice before you finally decided to come back?”

“I made a promise to my friends. I had to finish my quest before-”

“You had a promise to me, Shoto!” you yelled exasperatedly, your heart bursting with hurt. “To your family! To my family! Our people! What was so much more important than that?”

“I was so worried about you Shoto, terrified for you. Those first few months I couldnt think of anything but you.” You were beginning to reveal a lot, too much, but the emotions, the hurt, the anger, was flooding out of you like a broken dam and you couldn't stop it.

“But then I realized that you didnt care for me. You thought I didn't notice how you gave me the cold shoulder those last few months? How you ignored me, only gave me quick answers, acted as if I was just a pest following you around? I remembered all of it, and then I realized- you left because of me.”

“You left because of me, didn't you, Shoto?” your voice was harsh and crude like metal, stabbing into Shoto’s conscience.

He stayed silent- how could he say anything back? Your words were making him feel small and foolish- he should have known that you would have noticed his change in demeanor, just as he noticed yours.

You smiled painfully at his silence, feeling a fresh cut of pain slash inside you. “I knew it.”

“Y/n, I-” There was so much he wanted to say, things he wanted to take back. He didnt want this meeting to go like this- with you even more distant to him. Out of all the possible outcomes, this had to be the worst one.

“Dont even try to backtrack Shoto, I know the truth now,you just confirmed it.”

He knew he was less than kind to you before he left, but know it wasnt like that anymore. Why were you so angry?

“Fine-yes-I left, and it wasnt right,” he admitted, his voice deep, “but Im back. Why are you putting my old self against me now?”

“Because I couldn't for the year and half you were gone! I-I loved you Shoto, and you-”

“You dont love me anymore?” Shoto looked down at you sadly, his eyes full of sorrow. It felt like his heart was breaking in two, the way those words spilled out your mouth so easily making it sting even more.

You swallowed, filling a pit grow in your chest. Everything felt so cold, so empty. This was your best friend- why couldn't you just be nice to him? You thought you had gotten over all this.

“You dont love me-so why should I love you?” your voice was barely a whisper, cold and empty in the frigid hallway.

Shoto stared down at you, his voice caught in his throat. Did you really believe that? That he didnt love you?You had been friends since children- you really thought all those times, all those days you played together, were all fake? Who even were you?

“I just want you to know,” you spoke, your voice monotone and icy,” Im not doing this for my father, or your father, or even you. Im doing this for my people and thats it.”

“It” meaning the wedding.

Tears began to prickle your lashline, confusion flooding your numb body as you began to walk away from Shoto-

you hadnt cried in what seemed like forever.

Why were you now?

“Y/n, please, can we just talk-” he tried to reason, harsh with desperation.

“No.” your voice was plain in its tone that you were done with the conversation.

“Im just curious Shoto- why did you come back? Because if I had the luxury to have all that freedom, to be free for once- I wouldnt.”

Shoto’s heart felt broken as he watched you walk away, your dress ruffling as you continued on your path. He felt defeated, confused, even angry- what had happened to you since he had been gone? Did you really hate him that much? What did you mean you had no freedom? More questions flooded his mind than what were answered, but he now knew one thing- you didnt want anything to do with him.

As Shoto’s was returning to his corrdiors sadly, you were lost in thought, just feeling- empty. You didnt feel sad, or angry, or even spitefu anymorel. Just- numb to the world. You could walk for miles and miles it seemed and you wouldnt feel a thing.

Why was that? Why were so mean to your long lost firend? You should be hugging him from happiness and relief-not meeting him with coldness and hate.

As you were lost in thought, you didn't even notice yourself running into a person. Your hand instantly reached out, meeting soft yet rough skin. You looked up in confusion ,and your breath hitch- it was the barbairan, his vermilion eyes like rubies as he stared down at you in scorn.

“Oi, watch were your going you damn princess,” he scolded,pushing you off him gently. You stumbled slightly, trying to get your footing right- you had run in to him, you had even touched him. If you were feeling alright, and if the circumstances were different, you could practically squeal. “Youre gonna hurt someone.”

“Did I hurt you?”

He scoffed at your comment. “Like you could ever hurt me,” his voice was deep and velvety, his comment sending shocwaves into your system. The reply was prideful, yet it could have been- sweet. Kind, in a way in a different light- maybe he meant it like that?

“How do you know that?” you blurted out, a small smirk crawling across your lips.

You just wanted him to talk more, to hear that velvety voice directed towards you- but you were close to flirting with him. What were you doing? What was going on with you?

One second you were chewing out your life time friend weeks before your wedding, and now you were being smitten with a random man you didn't even know.

He chuckled slightly, his canines glinting. “Your a fucking handful, arentcha?”

He eyed your wobbling feet, as you still were finding your footing slightly.

“You clearly cant walk right-you feeling fine, because Im not gonna be the one who carries you-”

“No, no , Im fine.” you reassured, your cheeks rosy. ‘Thank you for catching me.”

“Youre the one who ran into me.”

“You could have just pushed me off though, you seem like the type to do that,” you gave him a cheeky grin, it disappearing when you heard a slight growl come form him.

“The hell you mean princess?” he was trying to be menacing, but you could tell there was something behind it- he was curious. You loved how he called you “princess”, making it sound like a pet name than a title.

“Your a lone wolf, are you not? You are strong, independent, free-” you began to list off, your eyes focusing on his, “you follow your own code and beliefs”

“Damn right I do,” he agreed, your heart soaring that he looked so proud of you for describing him so perfectly. “-which is why Im confused as hell that half-and-half prince is allowing himself to get married.”

Ouch.

The small amount of hope that Bakugo seemed to like you had quickly got destroyed, feeling hurt flood your body. You quickly tried to shake it off, so Bakugo couldn't see it on your face.

“What he even want to talk to you about anyway?” The boy shifted in his stance, his muscles moving with his movements.

You gulped, guilt filling your body- Shoto, the one who had just fought with. You couldnt tell this boy what had happened- that was private, and really, it was embarrassing.

“Just-uh-about-” you stammered, your cheeks red as you searched for a lie.

“Ugh, let me guess, you two were trading spit werent you?” he interrupted in disgust, taking your red cheeks as a sign you two were doing something unholy in the hallway.

You swallowed, licking your lips as you gave him a tight lipped smile. You were just going to follow along with Bakugo’s line of reasoning- you didnt have any other better ideas.

“Y-yep, just- please dont tell anyone?”

He gave a bitter laugh, his voice booming against your ears. “You guys cant get dirty? I guess that makes sense, since you all our royalty, cant be having any scandals-”

“Do you promise?” you rushed him, now feeling uncomfortable- if anybody heard you and Shoto were kissing in the hallway, and you two were really arguing-

“Yeah, dont worry princess, youre secrets safe with me.”

You sighed a breath of relief, feeling your heart jump at the smirk the boy sent your way.

“Thank you- I- uh- best be going now,” you stammered, rushing past the warrior, “have a nice night Bakugo.”

You rushed to your room, your heart feeling on fire. Your hands were shaking, your mid racing- all you could think about was that boy. Your world had seemed so dark, until he showed up. His rude responses, his chaotic personality, his snarkiness, that overly prideful speech, his freedom- it was so intoxicating to you. You felt your heart pumping against your chest- you hadn't felt this alive in so long.

You suddenly felt very sick, your head feeling drowsy- maybe you were actually catching something, and thats why you were acting so strange? You were gasping for breath it seemed, your corset making it hard to breath. I felt like something was tightening around your chest, small prods poking into you from the inside- it was a strange sensation, one you did not welcome in the slightest. You stumbled to your bed, holding on to the post as your lungs felt tight with no air, liking something was blocking your passageway. Coughs began to erupt out of you, wracking your body until you finally felt you could breathe. You sucked in a deep breath, welcoming the sweet night air, your chest still feeling tight. You looked down at the ground, trying to slow your stammering heart, until your eyes feel upon something new- a single white petal, resting softly on the ground.

------------

After that night, You became obsessed with this boy, learning bits and pieces from him though conversation you had overheard from Shoto’s friends and workers inside the castle. You learned he was from an extremely far off land, past even the Mountains, which surprised you. He lived alone, and apparently had a dragon as well. He had gotten in many fights due to his overly prideful personality, which was why he had so many scars decorating his taut body. Your handmaidens seemed to look at him with annoyance, saying he refused to wear anything “civilized” and would plainly cuss them out if they even set foot in his room to clean.

You knew he had a softer side though- he had kept your “secret” safe, right? You heard nothing around the castle about any make-out session or argument between you and Shoto. That little act made you feel special in someway- maybe he had a soft side for you?

Whenever you would feel yourself getting sucked into the sadness of planning your wedding, you’d think of fantasies with that barbarian boy. Him taking you in the middle of night, taking you far away from this place. His hands placed around your waist, that snarky smile looking down at you again.

Seeing him walk around the castle grew a desperation and love in your body, watching his handsome face stare around the rooms, his voice loud and prideful- you wished he could look your way, acknowledge you again. His vermillion eyes sent fire into your soul whenever you closed his eyes, his face being a beacon of warmth in your life.

Yet that beacon of life was killing you from the inside- every day and every night you fantasized about Bakugo, the sickness taking over you grew worse and worse. The closer you got to your wedding day, the worse it felt, the vines inside you prickling at your soft organs. They were growing, you felt it, as you coughed up more and more petals.

For a few days you had no idea what was going on, fear striking you as you wondered if you should ask to see a doctor. But you decided to do your own research, scourging through books until you found your sickness: Hanahaki. The the mythical disease for unrequited love. It was quite rare, but it came to the most lonely, delusional, and desperate of lovers.

It made sense, really- it all started when you talked to Bakugo, after falling in his arms. It hurt he didnt love you back- but why should he? One run-in shouldn't make people fall in love with each other, but somehow it made you. You welcomed the pain alittle, as it was a reminder you still had some feeling other than emptiness inside you. It also terrfiied you- you were supposed to be in love with Shoto, not some barbarian from a far off land you barely spoke to.

How had this happened, how could you let this happen?

Even if you did tell others you had Hanahaki, they would point the finger at Shoto, calling him cold and callous for not loving you. You were the one who was the cold one, pushing your old friend away. Even if you felt some residue of anger for him, you wouldn't put him through that- he didn't deserve it. You let this disease do its course- if it went away youd be freed, knowing that Bakugo loved you back, and if not- well, you’d figure that out when you got there.

You had barely talked to Shoto or even noticed him since that night, not realizing the amount of worry he felt towards you. Everyday that went by he noticed how sick you looked, your skin paling and you eyes losing any life. Every cough you tried to hold back he noticed and it rang in his ear like a terrible siren- there was something wrong with you.It ate at his insides, his fear of you pushing him away again making him scared to ask what was wrong.

------------

It was now the night before you wedding and you were feeling less than hopeful. You were supposed to be lively and happy, as your father had thrown a party to celebrate the events of the next day, yet you had no energy left in you to dance or socialize. You stayed in a dark corner, trying your best to blend in and not be noticed.

The coughs were not leaving, and it felt like your chest was being constricted until you could barely breathe. The annoying tickle of a cough was constantly at the back of your throat, as you tried to keep the petals at bay. You were miserable.

“Princess, are you doing alright, you seem a little- pale? Do you need some water, or maybe fresh air,” the young witch Ochaco approached you, her rosy cheeks and bright eyes looking at you.

“Hello, Ochaco,” you greeted, your smile strained, “you know-fresh air would be nice.”

The sweet girl smiled at you, gingerly taking you by the crook of your elbow and out of the ballroom. The fresh air was rather nice, soothing your hurting brain and your sore lungs. You two walked in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Your mind was shifting around, thinking about Shoto and what would happen tomorrow. It hurt too much, though- you still were both not at speaking terms, and now you had to be promised to each other for eternity. The thought made your throat itch even more, and instead, you switched to own of your many fantasies of Bakugo that brought you some comfort.

“So, how are you feeling? Nervous, excited, scared?” Ochaco asked gingerly

“About what?” you asked, looking at her with curiosity

“Uh,um-your wedding,” she giggled nervously, her cheeks growing red again.

Oh-you cursed yourself for getting to invested in your fantasy, feeling embarrassed for thinking of Bakugo and not about Shoto.

You really didnt know how to answer her question-You felt yourself dreading it-how could you tell her that? But you didnt want to lie to her- lying to her would be practically evil, like giving a child a promise and not fulfilling it.

“Its expected of me to marry him,” you reasoned out carefully, “Ive been thinking of this day since I was a child.”

She gaped out you in awe. “Really?That early? In your kingdoms is it a tradition to marry from each other’s kingdoms?”

You gave her a wihsful smile. “Actually- no, it isnt. We’re the first ones.”

Her brown bob fluttered against her cheeks, her eyes staring up at you in confusion.

“I-if you dont mind me asking,” she asked nervously, “why is that?”

You sighed, giving her a small smile.

“Its kind of a long story….”

------------

“Long ago our two kingdoms began to quarrel against one another. But that happened years back- we still continued to fight against each other, and quite frankly, we forgot about why. We just knew we hated each other and wanted to see the other fail. My father had always said to me that my mother wished for her children to be born in a peaceful kingdom, yet my father’s pride prevented that from coming true for her.

“Until the day I was born- my mother, sadly, died while giving birth to me. My father now had no queen, and really, no future ruler, since I am a girl and only men can become ruler in my kingdom. In his grief, he began to feel sympathetic, I suppose- he knew King Todoroki had a young boy who was barely turning 4, and my father got an idea. He travelled to his kingdom, and somehow was able to talk King Todoroki into an agreement.”

“In order to end the suffering of our two kingdoms, Shoto and I would marry once I turn 18, in which would bind our kingdoms forever in peace, with Shoto as ruling over both.”

Ochaco breathed out a large sigh, giving you a conflicted expression.

“So-thats why you two are getting married? Its arranged?”

You looked at her in confusion-“Didnt-Shoto tell you that? I thought Bakugo at least knew-”

“Bakugo?” Ochaco blinked a few times, clearly puzzled. “Bakugo just thought it was quite, well, wierd Shoto was getting married- Bakugo is just a lone wolf who cant understand love I guess-”

You strangely felt angry at her words- how could she even say that about him? Yes, he was cold and callous at times, but how could she know he couldn't at least love? You knew he had to at least have some way of having feelings for another person, you had to at least hope for that-

“-it must be why he left last night,”

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a ton of bricks pound into your chest.

“He-he left?

“Um yeah! Something about being ‘bored waiting around for a stupid’- oh my gosh, y/n are you alright!?”

You were coughing up quite alot, your lungs dry and painful as your heart tore in two. He-he left. Without you. Without even a goodbye.

After all that daydreaming, all that hope, that dedication to him, hoping he would notice you- he left. He never loved you, and you knew it- you were just so desperate for someone to take you, to teach you how to be free.

You wanted him to teach you, to see potential in you that you could be just as defiant to the world as him.

Uraraka wrapped her slender arms around your body, patting your back softly to help you rid your body of whatever had attacked you. It was taking everything in you to not let a single petal fall out, the itching in the back your neck unbearable as your heart beat agonizingly against horribly.

You felt a few silky petals slip out of your mouth, soft against your dry tongue. Miraculously, Uraraka didn't suspect a thing- most likely from the darkness she couldn't see the disease overtaking you.

You gulped desperately for air, finally getting a hold on your lungs.

“I-Im fine,” you panted out, raising from the floor on shaky knees. “Thank you”

Urarka gave you a pointed look, clearly not convinced. “Of course, but are you sure? Do you need water, or maybe I should get Shoto-”

“No!” you yelled out, covering your mouth in case of another attack.

You felt a little guilty for yelling at Uraraka so harshly, her wide eyes looking at you in shock-you just couldnt bear seeing Shoto when you were grieving over a lover that was never yours- and apparently dying from it too.

“No, Im fine, really,” you said more calmly, trying to be reassuring, “lets, just- walk back, if thats okay-”

“Yes of course! Ill walk you to your room, just in case you get sick again-”

You two walked in silence again, you mulling over your broken heart as Uraraka watched you in worry. You two passed the ballroom, everyone seemingly enjoying themselves and not noticing you two as you lead the way to your room.

You stepped up to the door, your hand grasping the doorknob until you paused, a question entering your mind. You were still confused why Uraraka said she didnt know your marriage was arranged-you would have expected Shoto to have told his group after saying he was getting married.

Was he embarrassed by it, that he was marrying you?

“You said you were surprised to here our marriage was arranged,” you asked quietly, “Shoto never told you?”

Uraraka shuffled in her pink boots, her shoulder hunched close to her chin.

“He-uh-no,” she breathed out, “he said he made a promise to marry a girl he loved.”

-------------------

Morning.

Daylight.

Wedding.

You should be feeling happy, excited, optmistic-you had been imagining this day since you were a child. But now, all you could feel was a coldness you couldnt seem to shake off- after your talk with Uraraka last night, you felt so confused.

The person you “loved” had never loved you, leaving you sick and hurt.

The person who did love you, you most likely pushed away to the point where they didnt love you anymore.

You couldnt even understand your emotions yourself. All night your sickness wouldnt leave your poor lungs alone, making you cough uncontrollably all night, the petals piling up around you.

You wouldn't allow anyone to see you in the morning, snatching your wedding dress from your hand maidens and putting in yourself. You fixed yourself up, trying to make yourself look as lively as possible, but it seemed impossible- you felt too empty inside to really put your heart into it.

Another round of coughs attacked your chest, a single petal dribbling out of your mouth, along with a speckle of blood. It dripped on the inner folds of your creamy white dress- easily disguisable if you made sure it was covered- yet it made you begin to cry.

What was going on? Why did you have to do this? Why were you still sick?

Your knees hit the cold floor, wave after wave of tears and coughs struck your body in a terrible symphony, the petals piling up on your dress.

You couldnt take it anymore- this sickness was going to have to take you, because you had no energy left to fight it anymore.

You felt a knocking on your door, the sounds harsh against your temple. You sniffled, one last cough feebily spilling out of your bloodied lips.

“Go away-I promise Ill be out soon-” you began sadly, until you heard the door swing open.

You looked up, your face in shock as you did not lock eyes with your handmaiden, but with Shoto’s.

He looked around the floor, noticing the bloody petals, his face completely torn-he knew what was going on.

Shoto stared down at you, his eyes boaring into yours-he knew something was wrong with you. He had came by your room in hopes of fixing your relationship before speaking your vows, working up the courage until he heard you crying. No matter what was between you two, he wouldnt let you go through pain by yourself.

Now he watching you cough up your life, those sickly petals flowing out of you, each one taking a toll on your body.

He gasped out your name, the words like honey as he sat next to you on the floor. You looked so beautiful in that white gown, like an angel from heaven.

But the paleness of your skin, the bags like bruises under your eyes, the blood on your lips- it all reminded him that you were human, and you were hurting inside. He reached for your hand, his fingers grazing your skin-so cold- but you pulled it away quickly.

“Please, dont Shoto-” you whispered hoarsely, “Im-”

Another wave of coughs wracked at your chest, this time the rasps painful against your chest as the vines squeezed.

Shoto didnt know what to do- how could he help you? There wasn't anything he could do to help, except watch his best friend and love slowly cough her life away. A few petals cascaded out of your mouth, adding to the piles as you heaved air back into your lungs, your knuckles white.

“How, how could you keep this from me?” he asked sadly, ignoring your pleas and pulling you into his lap.

You felt how warm he was, and realized- he did love you. He had been there for you as a child, and he was here for you now, comforting you in your worst moment.

Your heart felt like it was exploding as tears cascading down your face, salty and warm against your skin.

“How-how could I Shoto?” I shuldnt have been so mean to you,” you sobbed, “Im so sorry, so sorry, this is all my fault-”

“Please, no, dont be sorry,” he said softly, his arms cradling your body, “we both have our own faults. I shouldnt have left you for so long, and Im sorry for that, I-” he gulped, his heart beating harshly against his chest.

“I-I do love you,y/n, I do.”

You picked up your head, forcing yourself to look at him- he was so handsome, his mix matched eyes softly looking down at you- he was still the little boy you knew from a child, though, always so calm and sweet.

“I know, Shoto, I just, I-” you gulped, fighting to keep the coughs and sobs at bay.

He sighed, feeling his heart sink.

“You loved Bakugo, didnt you? Thats why,” he motioned to the petals, “this is happening to you.”

You gave him a shocked look, your eyes wide and glassy. You forgot how observant Shoto could be- you felt your cheeks grow red, realizing now he must have known by the way you stared so much at Bakugo.

“Was-it that noticebale?”

“Y/n,” he sighed, his chest feeling heavy, “very.”

You giggled at his remark, feeling strange for laughing for once. But Shoto was so abrupt with his words, it always made you laugh at his remarks.

Shoto’s heart soared at your laugh, the sound like chimes against his ears. It died down, the room quickly feeling closed in again.

“I just dont want to do this. I-I want to be friends again. To figure out who were are, without us being forced to be with each other.” you sighed, your heart rattling against your chest. “ I-I want to be with you and marry you- when we decide. Not my father, or your father- I want to be free to choose.”

You turned to Shoto, your hands touching his cheek.

“I-I did love you-and I still do-Im just so confused, and trapped, and-”

“You just want to be your own person,” he finished your sentence, his voice so much stronger than yours.

He looked down at you, his face surprisingly smiling.

“I think I may have arranged that,”

You jumped up, your face in shock. “H-how? Tell me!” you squealed, not unilke a child, your eyes wide with anticipation.

Shoto grinned at your face, loving how excited you could get so quickly.

“Do you remember my oldest brother?” he asked

“Of course I remember Natsuo! He was always so kind to me as a child,” you reminenscenced, “but how is he going to help us?”

“Well, as it turns out, I spoke to our fathers and my older brother,” he said, a small grin on his face, “they agreed that my brother could rule both kingdoms in my place. By himself, and my sister will accompany him if he ever needs help.”

You sucked in a lung full of air, unable to believe what you had just heard-

“So that means-”

“We are free to do what we want now.”

You yelled in happiness, happy tears cascading on your face as you wrapped his body around yours, “thank yous” spilling out of your lips.

Shoto hugged you back, smiling sadly- he had to admit, it was hard negotiating that new deal. After the night, that remark of how you didnt feel “free” stayed in his brain, haunting him until he found a solution. Knowing it would make you happy made it worth it- even if that meant you could leave him now. He loved you, but if that meant you could be happy with or without him, he would be content with the knowledge that you were finally able to be your own person.

“You can now be yourself,” he said sadly, his eyes staring down at the floor, “and even if that means you do not love me, I accept it. You dont have to feel guilty.”

You looked at the poor boy, his eyes shaded as his bi-colored locks cascaded onto his foreheads. You felt a warmth fill your chest, the sensation soothing and calming as the tightness in your lungs dissappeared. The tickling in your throat seemed to wane slightly. Your hand found his as his eyes instantly rose to meet yours.

“I wont feel guilty,” you smiled gently, “I want to be free- with you.”

Taggings: (if you want to be added, just shoot me an ask or a reply on this post and Ill add you on to my future fics!)

@freckledoriya @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnhabookclub #bnha au #bnha fantasy au #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todorki x reader #mha todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #shoto #mha shoto x reader #mha shoto todoroki #bnha prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x you #prince shoto x y/n

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bandomslayed · 3 years

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I’m not saying you should focus more on racism, I’m just saying that that’s something that the community as a whole needs to focus on and try to repair, I’m sure they all already know that people don’t like their ships. If that’s an issue, then groups can have a strict age limit. Easy solve. The other things are things that can be taught and learned but with hostility all that’s going to happen is a deeper divide. You said you wanted to argue with people about the things you don’t like that they do in this community. I’m paraphrasing, but why not instead want to educate them. No one will ever react well to feeling like they’re being ridiculed or patronized. People worth spending your time on are the ones you can talk to without it being a shitshow. We’re having a dialogue. I’ve felt this entire time like everything I say, someone is going to search for one thing to deliberately misinterpret or magnify unnecessarily when, if there’s something that they have an issue with, it could be a perfect opportunity to educate me instead of people being hostile. I’m college educated and can think critically, I’m moderately well spoken, I’m open to instructive criticisms and discussing things that aren’t agreed upon so I’m just sort of confused by the fact that what I’m saying is being picked apart by other anons and to a degree, you. You all want to change my mind about age gaps, despite me being with someone older irl and feeling safe and genuinely valued for the first time in a relationship in my life so why do you think that calling my dead grandpa names, redirecting the conversation and then kinda mocking me when I attempt to understand wholly and agree with some of the things you’re saying? That’s not going to convince me or anyone else. It just makes people feel defensive. Reiterating here that I’m not saying YOU specifically need to talk about racism more, and I’m not trying to diminish your experience or anything like that In just saying that those topics (discrimination of any kind, abuse of any kind) in the community are things we should be discussing instead of ships we think aren’t comfortable. I feel uncomfortable with relationships in real life and in rp all the time but that isn’t up to me to say it’s wrong or bad. It’s no ones right to tell any two consenting adults that what they’re doing is wrong. But it is a human right to tell someone when they’re being insensitive, and that’s a flaw in the community that people can be educated on and learn to handle with more sensitivity and knowledge but we’re never going to reach that point if we’re all just hostile and cruel to one another. Also reiterating that I’m not using personal examples to get cred, I just like examples because I think using them shows where I’m coming from so that any person who wants to have a dialogue can have a frame of reference for why my opinions are what they are on any topic. If I’m wrong, or insensitive, or just kinda dumb I want to know that but simply telling me I’m wrong or insensitive or dumb doesn’t teach me how not to me. And this doesn’t just mean me, I mean the whole community. It will never improve if we all just talk about the things we don’t like and give no feasible solutions.

alright i see what you want so let me switch to my white pleaser voice and deliver since you're so keen on being patronizing and in the same breath, acting like me taking what you say "the wrong way" is the problem. in bullet points so next time u come back to keep going at it u can pinpoint exactly what it is i misconstrued because u will do it anyway.

you're asking the community as a whole to care more about racism but you're talking to me who's leading the conversation in the first place. i understand you didn't imply i specifically should care more about it, but you're still using racism to discredit my point of view on age gap relationships being an important topic to discuss as well, and watering it down to just me not liking people's plots when that is not the message.

nobody is telling anyone how to live their lives. im bringing awareness to the fact that this culture is not okay. it's dangerous to our young. it NEEDS to be uncomfortable to you (you, plural) to invite to this so called critical thinking.

im not saying your partner doesn't have a right to be loving or grandpa and grandma had abuse masked as a good relationship. im saying, since it needs to be spelled out with no room for misinterpretation; the culture behind someone 10+ years older finding it completely okay to pursue someone that much younger — especially when we're talking 18 - 30 age range — needs to be looked at more closely. it's not safe in general. do exceptions exist? absolutely, but the whole two consenting adults point is a terrible one to make when at 18, you're considered that when you're still essentially just a child.

a strict age limit, which most groups adopt now, does little to actually prevent age gap relationships within roleplays. moreso, uneven power dynamics within plots being glamorized. my boss is not over 5 years older than me, but he is my boss. kpop boybands don't have age gaps of 10+ years in groups, usually, but there is a leader most times acting like a father figure, not to mention korean culture is heavy on emphasizing age-related hierarchical order, so a literal still wet behind the ears child establishing a romantic connection with someone who is not their equal? dangerous.

now let's halt. i already told you, i don't give a shit about respectability politics. it is not my job to be nice and educate anyone. and i don't mean just on this blog... most of you whites have come to assume and expect, even, that poc will be subservient, docile, and always willing to switch and nicely explain to you why the very core of the way you think about the world because you grew up sheltered w/e is not the whole picture for everyone. the worst part? most of them do. most of them do put their thinking caps on and write these novel worthy, intelligent, respectful, calculated think pieces only for the white in question to turn around and still deem it aggressive, etc. i don't do that. that is labor that most of you do not deserve.

the implication that there are feasible solutions for these problems that don't require for people to literally rework their entire mindset is naive at best. what am i supposed to do? be like nooo don't be racist, racism is bad BECAUSE it hurts people. i think all of you are old enough to know that by now. you definitely have enough internet exposure to know that, even if you grew up in all white sundown town america.

i explain my points. i actually explain my points more than the average person, yet here we are still saying im not doing enough to educate those around me as if it was my responsibility to change the way people think with sugar spice and everything nice so they feel their hand is held and it's safe to make a mistake that will consequently hurt other people as many times as they need to make it to finally grasp the reality of it and be able to just... not do that in the future. when no. no. when you hurt me, im allowed to react emotionally, not intellectually. when im angry and upset and still explaining why, its YOUR job to swallow it down and listen to what im saying, because YOU hurt me. i don't owe you civility (again; you, plural). i especially don't owe you civility when ive given you nothing but in the past and the end result is still me being an aggro freak who doesn't care for your precious feelings.

you're also assuming things. for example, assuming that im mocking you specifically when i really have not done that. if im going to mock you, im going to reply to your anon and say "okay stupid", then yeah, im mocking you. otherwise? don't assume im directing anything at you.

we're having a dialogue and this whole time all you've done is tell me to stop talking. your messages have all, in essence, said, if people want to date other people who have a shitton of years on them, that is not a problem and you look prettier talking about something else. yes, that's also paraphrased. you didn't say that, of course, but why are we still here if not because you feel personally scrutinized over the reaction to the life examples that you willingly provided?

nobody is trying to change YOUR mind, you're just not willing to consider that your age gap relationships that have been beautiful and loving and safe coexist within a culture that is wicked. a person who's 10+ older than me, 24, has no business seeing me as a potential partner. it's not appropriate. yet if they do, and i also see them as a potential partner, there's nothing inherently evil about that specific instance. it is the circumstances (past), that lead to this kind of thinking in the first place what im asking everyone to analize and understand. and it does matter. it matters as much as racism, abuse, ooc mistreatment of rp partners. again, issues do not queue and wait for something to end so they can begin anew. every conversation i choose to have i consider worth having. you're free to stay out if you don't deem it important.

you're exhausting me thinking by turning my inbox into ap debate we're achieving grand things sooo hope this helps 🖤

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laurazepamwrites · 4 years

Text

The chemicals between us ~ Chapter 11

Mei stood nervously outside Commander Morrisons office, her hand hanging in the air hesitant to knock. She had worked on her report for at least four hours and was fuelled by Junkrats encouragement. Now the moment had come to actually give her Commander the information she had found and the fear of rejection blocked her path. Should she even bring up the desire to go or trust Morrison to give her the task himself? What if she came across as desperate? All these questions spiked her anxiety as she stared at the door, hand in the air. A sudden knocking noise made her jump as Snowball took the initiative and tapped itself lightly against the door. ‘ Snowball !’ Mei mouthed as Morrison gave permission to enter from the otherside. She scowled at her droid and took a deep breath before entering.

Jack looked up as she entered, ‘Ah Mei, you have the report? Im impressed. I was expecting it by tomorrow at least.’

‘Y-Yes Sir.’ Mei entered and shut the door on Snowball. ‘ Serves you right .’ She thought as she approached the Commanders desk and handed him her report. ‘I've actually discovered a pattern of disappearances Sir, recently too, one of them is a rather famous Omnic.’

Jack nodded his acknowledgement as he studied her report leaving mei to anxiously bite her nails. ‘ He’s going to hate it, this is all a waste of time, why did I listen to that damn Junker!’ It felt like an eternity was passing before he finally gave an encouraging nod. ‘Er Mei? You can sit down you know..’

‘Oh!’ She hastily sat herself down and smoothed out her jumper and leggings absentmindedly as Jack waited patiently for her to get more settled. ‘You’ve done good work here Mei, and I agree. I think you have definitely found a lead here. If Null sector are nearby this can't be good. I’ll get Athena to get as much from the arrest report as she can and will assemble a surveillance team to head to Calais-’

‘I'll go!’ She blurted out.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Sorry! Sorry Sir, its just..I did the research and compiled a report. I volunteered myself, I think it's only fair I also go on the mission.’

Morrison sighed.. ‘Mei i'm not sure this is the best time to-’

‘No! Im- Im being assertive! And I’m putting my foot down! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't be allowed to go on a recon mission sir! You can't expect me to be cooped up here all the time doing nothing! I mean..You let the Junkers go and they're not even Overwatch!’

Jack held a hand up ‘Mei you've made some valid points but might i suggest you take a small breather whilst i explain some things?’

Mei chewed the inside of her lip and nodded.

‘Winston took you and Lena to Paris after reports of Omnic attacks yes? I heard it was quite the reunion..however you got injured, It could have been more serious if Dr Zeigler were not present. You're not a soldier Mei, you're not trained in any forms of combat. I have a team to look after and that involves making sure everyone here is as safe as possible. I understand you're frustrated, it must be hard feeling like you can't help but I've been speaking to Winston and-

‘Sir do you know I spent 2 weeks alone on an ecopoint with hardly any power?’ She said cooly.

‘I am aware-’

‘Do you know I spent over a week in the Antarctic with nothing but a tent and a weapon I made from scratch to get to the nearest point of civilization?’

‘Mei Im trying to-’

‘Why does everyone here think i'm some kind of doll?! I've proven I'm resourceful, that I can handle a gun that creates Ice for goodness sake and I'm not a bad shot either!’

‘Mei Im sending you to Calais.’ Morrisons voice spoke over hers.

‘I...what?’

‘As I was trying to explain...We can't play to our strengths if we don't use all of the team. I've spoken to Winston and he agrees, you were critical in the success in Paris and rather formidable with that gun and droid of yours. We do however have one concern..’

‘Which is..?’ She asked, but Mei already knew the question. She was waiting for it ever since she first arrived.

‘How are you Mei? Really? After what happened to your team?’

‘I..’ Mei hesitated and considered her answer. ‘It..It was hard to adjust. I've been gone for ten years, It's been hard but honestly I'm doing so much better now..’ She tried to sound optimistic. She could barely convince herself that was true.

Morrison seemed unconvinced himself. ‘Have you seen anyone professionally? To talk to I mean?’

‘I did see a therapist a few times..and I felt a lot better.’ That was only half true. She had seen someone but she had struggled to talk about the loss she felt, the guilt, the anger, the sadness when she desperately tried not to feel those things. She stopped going eventually, she threw herself into her work and it helped keep the dark away.

Morrison looked doubtful..'it was a terrible thing that happened Mei, have you spoken to anyone here? Winston? Angela?'

Mei almost scoffed. Winston had tried to talk to her but as usual she closed up, something about having no idea they were in trouble and everything appeared to be running smoothly at the ecopoint. She had made her excuses and left before he could explain further, not wanting to hear how he had thought all was well when her team were dead around her. After that he had given her her space leaving her to come to him if she needed to talk about what happened, but she never did.

'I don't need to talk to anyone sir, I'm fine.' She said firmly.

'You don't seem yourself Mei..'

'With all due respect Sir we are up against a well funded terrorist organisation who outnumber us 100 to 1. I'm sure I can be forgiven for 'not being myself' sometimes.'

'Hmm good point. Very well Mei if you think you are up to this then I see no reason why you can’t go for recon. It will be good for you to get more experience in the field, I'll make sure a senior member will be on the mission with you.’

Her eyes lit up ‘Really? You mean it!’ She couldn't help but beam.

Morrison chuckled lightly ‘I wish more of you was this enthusiastic. I’ll discuss your report with Ana and Winston. Keep an ear out, Athena will call you to a mission briefing by tomorrow.’

Mei Jumped from her seat. ‘Xie xie! Thank you! Thank you Commander Morrison! I can't wait for the briefing! Opps, I mean..I know it's serious but you know what I mean?’

‘You're dismissed Mei.’ Jack said patiently.

‘Oh! Yes Sir! Thank you! Thank you again!’ She closed the door behind her, waiting those few seconds for her brain to catch up on what had just happened. ‘I did it Snowball!’ She grabbed her droid from the air and spun him around gleefully.

Jack smiled briefly at the sound of Mei celebrating but it was short lived, his expression darkened as he accessed his computer, once again bringing up the secret communications with the stranger.

: So….guess you're still pretty mad about Bryansk?

:You gave away our position and could have lost us everything.’

:And I heard it was handled well enough. Talon now has a lot less weapons.

:What's the reason you’re contacting me?

:I think I'm being watched. More than usual.

:What do you mean?’

:They are getting suspicious here, and I think i'm in danger. Im sorry..i need to give them what they want sometimes, Im just warning you need to lay low for awhile but ill still be working my magic one way or another.’

:Understood, A little warning next time.’

:Sometimes we don't have that luxury friend. Adios.’

The screen went black leaving Jack staring at his expression etched with trepidation.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The next Morning Mei hovered at the entrance to the large meeting room, she was early by about twenty minutes and now anxious that she would appear too eager. She started to bite her nails when she heard the click of heels approaching, turning to the sound she was greeted by the sight of Angela, her blonde hair up in a messy ponytail and holding two mugs in her hands, a small folder of paper under one arm. ‘Ah good you’re here. I was hoping you would be early, unless you like cold coffee.’ The blonde woman said brightly.

Mei felt more at ease and was thankful someone expected her to be early. ‘Are you on the Calais mission Angela?’ She asked, taking one of the mugs with a smile of thanks and holding the door open.

‘Ja, would be good to stretch my legs as i'm sure you can appreciate, and as this is a surveillance mission Jack felt a less inconspicuous look would be more suitable.’ Angela replied. The two women sat beside each other at the large round table. Angela began rifling through the papers, Mei took a drink from her mug and glanced over, realizing it was her report. ‘Is it.Is it ok?’ She asked.

‘Hmm?’ Angela looked up at her. ‘Ah yes! You’ve done a fine report, and you found a good lead too. With Athena's assistance we may be able to locate the addresses of those who have reported missing Omnics.’ She took a quick sip from her mug. ‘Oh and well done on noticing the Activist artist had vanished.’

Mei pursed her lips. ‘Yes well, that might not have been so much me..but I did most of the work!’

Angela raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her and waited for her to continue. Mei tapped her fingers on the table in irritation before blurting out her grievances. ‘That damn Junker walks in with that smug attitude like he owns the place and starts poking fun like he always does and - and he set a fire somewhere! Did you know that? I should tell the Commander.. Anyway, I might have been feeling at a loss trying to find some leads and he just takes over and-!’ Mei waved one of her hands at the report and took a rather angry slurp of her coffee. Angela tried not to laugh at her friend. ‘I see.’ She said, suppressing a smile and occupying herself with tidying the papers in front of her.

‘Is that all? Do I need to mention he found some information on the report or not?

‘No, but did you thank him?’

‘I..no.’

‘Maybe start with that.’

‘But he’s a jerk.’

‘And it was only a few days ago he was in my office complaining about you..honestly, you are as bad as each other.

Mei looked shocked at the accusation ‘Angela! We are nothing alike! For starters he’s an international criminal! He’s grown up completely feral! He’s-What did he say about me?!’ She didnt get her answer as they both looked up as everyone else entered. ‘We’ll discuss this another time.’ Said Angela, still trying not to laugh. Mei huffed, folded her arms and scowled sideways at her friend.

‘Good morning ladies.’ Ana said cheerfully as she joined them at the table followed by Commander Morrison and Winston. They were each carrying a copy of Mei’s report.

‘So..’ Ana began. ‘Thanks to Dr Zhou we have a promising lead in Calais. We try to keep such missions of intelligence gathering to as small a number as possible to avoid detection but as this is not your field Mei we will send Angela along with you. I think you both can keep a low profile as sightseers.’

‘It's a simple enough mission.’ Said Morrison. ‘Gather as much intelligence as possible regarding missing Omnics and Null sector. Don't mention Overwatch or Talon to anyone to avoid suspicion. We will arrange a hotel and car hire under false names and identification, you’ll have 24 hours in the city before pick up.’

‘ I have gained access to the addresses of the Omnics who have filed missing reports for your convenience .’ Offered Athena.

‘Angela will be going with a concealed weapon but that will be the only one available. It would be too risky for Mei to have her weapon with her, and to be on the safe side maybe it's best to leave your droid behind Mei so you are less recognizable’

‘Oh..’ Mei sounded unsure. Snowball was her near constant companion, it would be odd to have him so far away from her. ‘If it's ok Commander, can he come along but remain at the hotel?’ Morrison thought for a moment before grunting and nodding his head in agreement. Mei let out a small sigh of relief.

‘When do we depart?’ Asked Angela.

‘Athena has discovered that an Omnics right rally is due to happen in 3 days time. Maybe you can get more information there.’ Offered Winston.

‘Good idea.’ Agreed Ana. ‘Lena will take you there the night before, make sure you’re both ready for departure.’

‘Yes Captain.’ Mei replied.

‘Keep your wits about you and be careful.’ Warned Morrison. ‘Omnic rallys can potentially become heated and France has had its fair share of violence lately as you both know. Watch each other's backs out there.’

Angela nodded in agreement, ‘You can count on us Commander.’

------------------------------------------------------------------

Snowball glided along the corridor towards the common room followed closely by Mei and Angela. ‘...And you may want to learn a couple phrases of french if you don't already. Oh and I will need to stop by the City of lace and fashion.’ Angela was saying as she walked in step with Mei who looked up at her in puzzlement. ‘It's a museum, oh and we best see the museum of fine arts too.’

‘Erm..don't you think we should be working on the mission?’

Angela chuckled. ‘Ah Mei, we’re undercover. We should play the part, and if we have souvenirs and shopping bags we will look much less suspicious.’

‘Shopping bags huh?’

‘Well..I would like some new shoes at least.’ Angela shrugged as they walked into the common room together. There was evidence of early breakfasts having been made, a near empty jar of peanut butter on the side. Hana, Jamison and Lucio were heard laughing on the decking outside enjoying the morning sun.

‘Now's your Chance Mei.’ Said Angela who had begun washing their mugs in the sink.

‘Hmm?’

Angela nodded towards the glass doors that lead to the outside seating area. ‘To thank him.’

‘Right now?’

Angela did not answer, she dried her hands on a nearby tea towel and raised her eyebrows at Mei as she strode past her and opened the door to the decking. Mei’s eyes widened in alarm as her so-called friend brazenly greeted the group and informed Jamison that she wished to speak to him inside. Jamison had surely said something because Hana and Lucio were now laughing, she overheard Hana jokingly say ‘ Ding ding round fifty!’

‘What was that!’ She hissed at Angela as soon as the blonde turned back around. She had no time for an answer as Jamison was quick to follow Angela, looking grumpy at what he assumed was going to be a telling off. The scowl on Mei’s face was not helpful.

‘Fucks sake, whatever it is I didn't do alright? Well..might of? Look just have your moan woman and get it over with!’

‘Well I suppose since you brought it up maybe you could explain why i found a service droid with most of its mechanics taken out..?’

‘Hey my experiments are none of your business!’

‘Oh so it was you!’

At that point Angela made a rather dramatic show of clearing her throat, Mei rolled her eyes and sighed deeply to compose herself. ‘Okay..okay look. I didn't want to fight..’

‘Really? You've made a fine job of that.’

‘For goodness sake! I'm trying to say thanks!’

Junkrat stared at her, the confusion visible on his face as he processed what Mei had said. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ He said eventually.

Mei started to lace her fingers together, suddenly feeling shy and looking to her feet. ‘You erm..you actually did help me. With the missing Omnics I mean, and I took your advice, I did see the Commander and I'm going on the mission to Calais for recon. I ..I guess I wouldn't have had such success without your help, so honestly, thank you Jamison.’

She expected him to scoff or make fun or to laugh at her, but instead what he did gave her a strange sudden warmth in her stomach. He smiled, not one of his manic grins when he set something on fire or blew up one of his explosives and neither was it the kind of smile when he joked around with Hana and Lucio or had a few too many drinks with McCree and Torbjorn. He was genuinely smiling at her and she felt like she was truly seeing his face for the first time.

‘That's Brilliant Mei! See I told you didnt I! You just gotta puff yourself up and make yourself heard! Honestly, made up for ya! When are you going?’

Mei gave a small smile. ‘Erm..two days' time, it will give me a chance to prepare at least.’

‘Ah you’ll be fine. Show the old man what you’re made of.’

She smiled and suppressed a small chuckle. ‘Maybe I will..thank you.’

‘No worries.’ He said, still smiling at her. Mei suddenly felt unsure of what to say next and they both seemed to remember their mutual dislike of each other. They stood there both of them not knowing what to say or do now and Jamison was never good at being quiet when feeling uncomfortable. ‘So er..what now? Do we shake hands? Hug it out? Go back to annoying each other?’

‘Erm..I mean we could try to..Oh I don't know! You are very annoying.’

‘Annnd she's back in the room!’ Jamison laughed and winked at her ‘Take a chill pill Frosty.’ He said back to her as he went back outside. Mei continued to stand in place and took a few seconds to process whatever had just happened. He genuinely seemed happy for her didn't he?

‘Wow.’ She heard Angela say.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Mei asked, narrowing her eyes at the Doctor.

‘Oh nothing..I didn't see anything or notice anything, and at least you won't have to worry about thanking him now. Sometimes you just need a little push. Rip that bandaid off as it were’

‘You are not funny and you are a terrible friend.’

‘You're welcome.’ Angela smiled warmly at her.

-------------------------------------------------------------

‘What's your problem?’ Roadhog grunted from his bed. Junkrat looked up from maintaining his peg, ‘Huh?’ Roadhog wheezed as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and reached over to his oxygen tank, clipping the nozzle of the hose to his mask and inhaling deeply. ‘You're too quiet.’

‘Damned if I do damned If I don't..’ Junkrat muttered. ‘Im fine.’

‘If you say so.’ The huge Junker replied and remained silent. A few seconds passed and predictably Junkrat spoke. ‘Mei’s got herself a mission.’

‘Mei now is it?’

‘Well..it was weird. She was her usual frosty self and then she's thanking me.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘I dunno mate, felt weird.’

‘You think any positive interaction is weird, Rat.’

‘Cos it is mate and I don't get it, If i don't get it I don't like it. I don't like being confused and everyone one here is fucking confusing. Especially her.’ He swore to himself and went back to work, a deep frown etched on his face. Roadhog watched him for a moment and sighed to himself.

‘Idiot.’

-----------------------------------------------------------

It was approaching midnight and Mei was still wide awake. Time had gotten away from her and she had spent hours preparing for her mission right down to what clothes she would wear and how long Angela could spend shopping. She had gone over everything with a fine tooth comb but still could not shake the nervousness and doubt gnawing at her. What if she screwed up, what if she blew hers and Angela's cover? What if they didn't find anything and it turns out to be a huge waste of time and resources and it would be her fault for pushing the Commander to let her go?

‘ He genuinely seemed happy for me.’ The sudden thought jolted her from her anxieties, but she didn't want to think about Jamison and she was annoyed at herself for doing so. ‘Snowball have I forgotten anything?’ She asked her droid but he was far away on her desk charging silently in sleep mode. Mei sighed and decided to go through her preparations again tomorrow with Angelas help. She settled into bed hoping she’d have no claustrophobic nightmares and tried to relax her thoughts with deep breathing, she concentrated on her chest rising and lowering and soon began to feel the weight of sleep slowly creeping on her. Her mind flashed with the image of how Jamison smiled at her and her eyes snapped open, the strange warmth blossomed in her stomach again. She grumbled, ignored it and rolled over, pulling the blanket closer around herself, annoyed that he was even bothering her in her thoughts.

#soon enough?#Overwatch #fanfic #jamison fawkes #Junkrat #meihem #junkmei #mei ling zhou

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sineala · 5 years

Text

Chronology of Tony’s secret identity

One of the things that often comes up in discussions of 616 Tony Stark is his secret identity. Unlike the MCU, where Tony's secret identity lasts only until the end of the first Iron Man movie, or the Ultimate universe, where it's never secret at all, one of the key traits of 616 Tony for a number of years is the fact that he maintained a secret identity: Tony Stark the CEO and Avengers benefactor and his bodyguard the Avenger Iron Man, were presented to the world as two different people.

Now, if you're a fan of Tony in the comics, none of the above is new to you. But what isn't always obvious, especially if your primary point of familiarity with Tony is other universes, is that coming out as a superhero isn't a one-and-done thing. He doesn't start out by making a big public announcement: some people figure it out over the years, some people find out, some people are told. But until he tells the world, it's still a secret. There are Avengers teams even within the past 25 years where some people know who he is and some people don't.

So I thought that it would be useful to compile a list of who learns Tony is Iron Man, and when they learn it. The list isn't complete -- and I certainly welcome additions and corrections -- and is currently limited to Tony's friends, romantic interests, and selected teammates (rather than supervillains). Basically, I just wanted to limit it to characters we might care about for fannish purposes, because I often find myself wondering if Character X knows at Time Y that Tony is Iron Man. A lot of these aren't traditional reveals in the sense you're probably picturing, in which Tony takes off his helmet; several of them are just people saying that they've figured it out. But I think they still count.

This is the raw data, ordered by year of reveal; I will then go through it with explanations as appropriate:

RETCONS:

Joanna Nivena (Iron Man v1 #224 (1989); retconned into origin story)

ORIGINAL CONTINUITY:

1965

Happy Hogan (Tales of Suspense v1 #70)

1973

Thor (Avengers v1 #113) Pepper Potts (Iron Man v1 #65)

1977

Whitney Frost (Iron Man v1 #104)

1980

Bethany Cabe (Iron Man v1 #139)

1982

Steve Rogers (Avengers v1 #216) Tigra (Avengers v1 #216) Silver Surfer (Avengers v1 #216) Janet Van Dyne (Avengers v1 #224)

1983

James "Rhodey" Rhodes (Iron Man v1 #169)

1985

Clint Barton (Iron Man v1 #193) Bobbi Morse (Iron Man v1 #193)

1998

Carol Danvers (Iron Man v3 #7)

1999

Selected friends & Avengers, again (Captain America & Iron Man 1998 Annual)

2002

Rumiko Fujikawa, and also the entire world (Iron Man v3 #55)

2006

The entire world, again (Civil War: Front Line #1)

The first identity reveal by internal chronology is actually from 1989; IM v1 #224 introduces, in flashback, a woman named Joanna Nivena whom Tony was engaged to, and who actually encouraged him to be Iron Man, and then promptly left him when she figured out that was his true calling. She is a retcon, and as far as I know she's a retcon that canon hasn't done much of anything with -- I think this is her only appearance -- but technically she's the first.

Discounting the retcons, as you can probably guess, Happy Hogan is the first person to find out that Tony is Iron Man. It happens in a relatively early ToS issue, ToS #70 (1965), in the middle of the Titanium Man fight. And if you're looking for it, it is so completely subtle that you will probably miss it. I missed it twice. Happy thinks to himself, "I'm gettin' a hunch why Stark is never around when Iron Man's on the scene! It's nutty... but it must be the answer!" Seriously, that's as much as it gets spelled out, but Happy knows. Of course, then he gets amnesia for a bit, but the amnesia goes away in ToS #83 (1966) and he remembers again.

At this point you might think to yourself that probably this means Pepper will find out soon. Ha. Ha. No. Pepper does not find out soon. In fact, Thor technically finds out before Pepper does, though it happens in the same year, 1973. There's this whole Happy/Pepper/Tony dynamic where Pepper has a thing for Tony and Tony keeps trying to push Pepper toward Happy because Tony believes in his own imminent death. And to help this along, he behaves coldly to her as Iron Man, meaning that Pepper thinks Iron Man is terrible and Tony is so great. The identity reveal, in IM v1 #65, actually happens when Pepper and Happy are fighting and Pepper says something about how Iron Man is so awful and Happy tells her that Tony and Iron Man are the same person and then shows her the armor in its case.

And then there's Thor! The Thor thing seems like it should be easy, but it isn't. In Avengers v1 #113 (1973), Vision is injured, and they need an engineer (Tony) and a doctor (Don Blake) to help him, and so Tony and Thor kind of mutually tip their hand to each other about their identity; it's a really sweet reveal. It's also completely retconned, in the same year, in the same title, in a story by the exact same writer -- in Avengers #118, the Avengers/Defenders War ends with Doctor Strange explicitly mindwiping Tony and Thor's knowledge of each other's identities out of each others' minds. The really weird thing is that this retcon doesn't seem to have stuck; Tony refers to Thor already knowing his identity in IM #108 (1978), and Thor already knows in the Molecule Man incident. Comics, man, I don't even know.

A bunch of Tony's romantic interests find out in the remainder of the 1970s and early 1980s. I don't have an issue number, but I know Marianne Rodgers figures it out pretty early on in their relationship, on account of being a telepath. Whitney Frost finds out in 1977, Iron Man v1 #104, when she becomes seriously romantically involved with Tony. (They first kissed way back in Iron Man v1 #19 (1969)... but she didn't know he was Iron Man, then.) Bethany Cabe finds out -- or rather, reveals to Whitney Frost that she'd already figured it out -- in 1980, in Iron Man v1 #139. She doesn't tell Tony she knows until Iron Man v1 #152, in 1981 -- they're captured and she urges him to change into Iron Man. (So, yeah, this means that while Demon in a Bottle is happening and Bethany is helping Tony get sober, she most likely doesn't know he's Iron Man.)

And then there's Avengers v1 #216, which I am sure we all already know about. The Molecule Man strips Tony out of his armor, meaning that his identity is revealed to Thor (who already knew), the Silver Surfer (who doesn't really seem to care), Tigra (who is leaving the team, but this will be relevant in a bit anyway)... and of course, Steve Rogers. Hi, Steve.

This is where it becomes important that Tony's secret identity is still a secret. No one he's told tells anyone else. Even now that some of the Avengers know, he doesn't, say, rush out and tell the rest of the Avengers that he's really Iron Man. Instead, in Avengers v1 #224, he starts dating Jan, and he doesn't tell her he's Iron Man. Steve and Thor both encourage him to tell her, and he does, at which point she breaks up with him because she doesn't want to date another teammate so soon after leaving Hank.

Then the second drinking arc happens, which is when we get a couple more identity reveals -- Rhodey and Clint, specifically. Rhodey finds out when Tony has started drinking again. Tony reveals his identity to Rhodey in IM v1 #179 (1983), and then he passes out in the armor and Rhodey puts it on and becomes Iron Man and goes off to fight the villain of the issue. After Tony eventually sobers up, he and Rhodey and the Erwins make their way to the West Coast. When Rhodey joins the brand-new WCA, Tigra is confused because she knew Tony was Iron Man and this guy isn't Tony, but it's all sorted out eventually. (Similarly, some of Tony's villains are confused when they run into Rhodey as Iron Man -- the Mandarin says he'd suspected Iron Man was Tony but now obviously he must have been wrong.) Anyway, Tony outs himself to Clint and Bobbi in Iron Man v1 #193 (1985); he suits up in his old armor to go talk to Clint, and when Clint doesn't trust him, unmasks himself as Tony Stark. And when Tony becomes Iron Man again, he eventually joins the WCA and stays in California.

After this... well, okay, after this is where my reading gets patchy, honestly. Armor Wars happens, and Tony comes up with a fake identity for Iron Man and then fakes Iron Man's death at the end of it -- I think this was to fool SHIELD, but I know that Steve et al. still know who Tony is. I don't think there are a whole lot of big reveals, but I get the sense that Tony's identity eventually becomes basically an open secret in the superhero community. There's a panel somewhere from the 80s or early 90s where Natasha is thinking that they all know already and Tony should just tell them. Note that the general public still doesn't know; this is only among Tony's fellow heroes.

The latest individual reveal I know of is after volume 3 starts, when Tony reveals his identity to Carol in Iron Man v3 #7 (1998). It's the middle of the Live Kree Or Die arc, in which Carol has been kicked off the Avengers for her drinking problem. Tony shows up at her door as Iron Man and then decides that he can relate to her better in this case as Tony Stark, alcoholic. It's clearly new information to her.

And then there's the Captain America & Iron Man 1998 Annual, which actually came out in 1999, apparently. Tony cybernetically fights a villain named Mentallo. In the course of the fight, Mentallo learns Tony's secret identity, but when Tony wins he gets the chance to erase it from his mind, which he does. He then realizes he can erase it from everyone's minds. He's thinking of all the villains who have found out over the years -- he names Spymaster, The Controller, Molecule Man, and Machinesmith, and even I can add a few more to that list. (There's Kraken, at least, and the Mandarin definitely suspected.) So Tony wipes everyone's minds, including his friends'. But via the magic of Comic Science, if he retells them right away it will be like they never forgot. So he calls a meeting of a bunch of Avengers (Vision, Thor, Jan, Steve, Hank, Wanda, Simon -- and later Happy and Pepper) and tells them his identity again, and everyone takes it really well, except for Steve, who gets mad about having his mind wiped, which is the plot of the book. He says he's going to tell a few more people who "deserve the same courtesy" and mentions wanting to find Clint. I assume he retells most of the superhero community (or at least his friends), but this isn't explicitly stated.

And in 2002, in Iron Man v3 #55, Tony unmasks to save a puppy, and the entire world finds out he's Iron Man. (This includes Rumiko, who he's dating at the time.) He continues to have a public identity for the remainder of v3, but during everything that happens during Disassembled, he manages to successfully hide his identity once again and get the world as a whole believing that Tony and Iron Man are two different people.

Even during Disassembled, it's clear that the superhero community still knows who he is -- in Avengers Finale (2005), he assembles a bunch of familiar Avengers in the ruins of the mansion (he's in armor but unmasked -- which, y'know, that's a dead giveaway there) and tells them, "I was able to put the genie back in the bottle as far as my secret identity is concerned. Most people believe that Tony Stark and Iron Man are now two completely different people. I would never ask any of you to outright lie for me, but if it comes up -- if you could at least not say anything to contradict me. I would appreciate it."

So New Avengers kicks off and the team moves into the tower and so on and so forth and Tony keeps his superhero identity secret from the public until... 2006. Nope, it doesn't take long at all. Civil War kicks off and Tony unmasks at a press conference in Civil War: Front Line #1 so that he can, essentially, show he's not a hypocrite for supporting Registration. He pulls his helmet off and says, "Hello, my name is Tony Stark, and I am an alcoholic. And now it's time to come clean."

And that's the one that stuck. So after 2006, everyone knows Tony Stark is Iron Man. (Fun fact: after the brain deletion, Tony's not going to remember that he did this, so he ought to wake up still thinking he has a secret identity. I don't think canon has ever explored this fact.)

So there you have it: my best attempt at putting together a chronology of Tony's identity issues.

#posts i actually wrote

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kotofvi · 4 years

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THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all have witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

Mun Name: Leo Age: 27 Contact: IM, Inbox, Disco

Character(s) I rp: Canon: Shiro, Sebastian, Dirk, Kyoya, Kurama, Nelliel, Maka, Dwicky. OCs: Hades, Google, Emogene, Dominic, Seirios, Iso, Felix, Reeves, Nyx, Zeru, Ren, Charlie, Dakota, Nemo, Bluejay, Koko, BD, Raven, Cora, Sammie, Lucie, Poppie, Ollie, Alphie, Bambi, Abbigail, Hiraeth, Bonnie, Rei, Rory. Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?(for MM): Nelliel, Shiro, Rei, Bonnie, Hiraeth. Current Fandom(s): Bleach, V/LD, Naruto. (I’m not deeply involved in the fandoms themselves anymore.) Fandom(s) you have an AU for: Uhhhhh.. I basically have an AU for any fandom if I know it well and am asked for it. My language(s): English. (I’m learning other languages but I don’t RP in them unless it’s just a sentence or two.) Themes I’m interested in for rp: Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc. Themes/Genres you have an AU for: Modern, Mythology, Medieval.

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella. (I legit love all lengths, tbh, it’s more so with one-liners I tend to lose interest if there’s no substance to further it.) Asks can be send by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals / Personals / Anons. Can Asks be continued?: YES / NO only by Mutuals?: YES / NO. Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck. Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?: YES / NO. Are you atm open for new plots?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. (I’ve admittedly been v busy, so if you’re fine with me takin’ forever-- YES) Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?: YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. How long do you usually take to reply?: 24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years. I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) (It really depends here.) / duplicates / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / au-versions (as main or only verse). Do you post more ic or occ?: IC / OOC.(I post more IC, but the gaps between IC and OOC make it seem like there’s more OOC at times???) Are you selective with following others?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. (This is entirely because half the fandoms some of my muses come from are absolute shit so I have to be careful.)

Best ways to approach you for rp/plotting: IM or Inbox-- tbh, Just kick my inbox in and screech that you wanna plot/rp with me so long as you’re a mutual. I’m honestly so laid back?? Sure, it might take me a minute but this is entirely because IRL things and not because I’m putting anyone off.

What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner: Having fun? Having ideas? I guess, just, mutual interest? I mean, I’m here to write! I’m here to have fun! If you’re not interested in that much alone then?? I guess bye?? ‘Cause I’ll become very annoying to anyone who doesn’t have an interest purely because I’ll randomly ambush my partners with excitement and ideas.

When you notice the plotting is rather one-sided, what do you do?: Oh I’ll just straight up ask if they want to continue the thread or start a new one! I mean, I get it, you can lose interest or otherwise just not feel it anymore and that’s fine! If you’re not interested in that particular thread, then no worries, we can always start more! If you’re just being one-sided in general, however?? I’m not gonna be interested at all and I’ll likely tell you as such.

How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner?: Normally it’ll just happen? I’ll do my “Hey what if they ___” thing and then a rapid bombardment of inquiries and excitement later, there is a thread. It’s usually mutual, the involvement of creating this plot, but sometimes it’s just me being excited and them being excited and then suddenly BAM THERE BE THREADS. S’all good over here!

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: I mean?? I’d like to know, yes! But I get that sometimes it’s incredibly anxiety ridden trying to tell someone that you’ve lost interest in a thread. It’s alright if you don’t tell me, but if you can muster up the courage to do so I’d appreciate it! I’m not gonna be upset at you for losing interest/muse in a thread! If I cared deeply about the story, I might poke at you and then you can tell me?? Either way it’s fine and tbh, I don’t mind. However, please let it be known that you can take forever on a reply as well so don’t worry about just hoarding a draft too! Tbh, I had someone reply to a thread literally a year later and I was still excited for it! - What should your partner do when dropping a thread?: Just shoot me an IM or hell, make a list of threads you’re dropping and tag me in it??? Which ever! Or don’t even tell me at all, whatever works for you sugar!

What could possibly lead you to drop a thread?: Hmn, being overwhelmed-- I tend to accumulate a lot of drafts and 90% of them are long so sometimes I’ll drop a thread or two to help myself get by. Also lack of muse/interest is a factor. I won’t drop a thread purely out of being overwhelmed unless I just can’t muster up the muse to respond to it. - Will you tell your partner?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. Sometimes I get overwhelmed myself and I’ll drop a thread, forget to tell my partner, etc. Other times I’ll tell them before I even delete the draft!

Is communication in the rpc important to you? YES / NO. - And why?: Yes and no~ Yes primarily! I get that others can take a minute to muster up the courage to talk to others and would just prefer to keep things to a few sentences at first! However, I can and will ambush you with conversation and interest nonetheless. Because communication is important. If you’ve got something you wanna say to me, say it! I’m here for it! - Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?: Yup! If you’ve got an issue or something that might come across as criticism to say, say it! Civil discussion is absolutely wanted here and I would like to work out any issues you may have with me or my portrayal. - Do you think you can handle such situation in a mature way? YES / NO.

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?: To write and have fun! To explore in depth the characters I create or take on! I mean, c’mon, lbr here-- my gremlin ass muses require some more in depth speculation and investigation into their characters! I love the creativity, the world building, the constant drive to do better and to make others feel something from words alone. The capability to rend emotion from another living being simply from reading and reacting to something I created is amazing and I want to make others cry, laugh, smile and think. I want to create.

Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios: Oh man, there’s an endless supply of things I’d like to do! I want to explore the depths of my muses’ histories more?? Like Shiro, I want to write out the things he must’ve seen, felt, experienced. How Nelliel was when she was alive, how Shiro fared in the Arena when he wasn’t fighting, Seb’s life torn between the various throws of data and reality-- there’s so much! And ALL THE AU’s!!!! All of them!!!

Themes I won’t ever rp / explore: Sure, I work with a lot of darker themes like torture, gore, etc-- but I will not write Rape, sexual abuse, nor will I write child loss.

What Type of Starters do you prefer / dislike, can’t work with?: I can work with most starters! However, if I’m randomly given a starter that I can’t work with for the muse selected, I’ll inform the person who wrote it! I appreciate the effort given but don’t expect me to be able to reply to every random starter given! Sometimes, they don’t even show up in my tag.

What type of characters catch your interest the most?: Okay, I’m a sucker for the underdogs, aggressive folks and the villains. I’m not even going to try and lie and say I don’t immediately look at the Aizens and Kenpachis and go ah yes, those fucking gremlins, give me ten. I also love the background characters? The side characters in a show that seem so unimportant but have a crucial role? I love characters that have such an obscure involvement that you have to stop and ask why and how their involvement was crucial. I also love the soft beans? The ones who are so hyped with positivity and gleaming interest that they just can’t be ignored?? But then turn around and whoop some poor sap’s ass with that sparkle sparkle smile. Also love the upstanding moral types that also acknowledge that some things can’t be avoided and that morality is a grey area dependent on the perceptions of the individuals themselves.

What type of characters catch your interest the least?: Hmn-- I guess the kind that don’t seem to have much substance to them? The ones that are just uncharacteristically too kind. Yes, I love the overwhelmingly positive types but?? Also?? The ones that are too kind and without flaw just?? Don’t strike me as interesting. Also the ones that are just cruel for some obscure reason just to give them a reason to be villains. I mean I understand but also?? Villains don’t have to have a reason?? They can be cruel just to be cruel. Idk that’s always just been a thing with me.

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?: I guess that I’m fairly laid back? I don’t mind if you take 10 years to reply, I’m going to get excited if you message me with some random idea, I’m not going to be bothered by any ideas you suggest?? I can also sometimes give u doodles?? I don’t have time to doodle a lot but sometimes, once in a blue moon, you’ll get a random offering of doodled booty for ur blessing. Also gonna hit you up with random HCs, ideas, threads, etc?? Always?? Idk, I’m not too good at thinking about positive aspects of myself lmfao.

What are your weak aspects as rp partner?: Hnnn, I’m too laid back at times. I take too long to reply and I’m busy af IRL. I’m often goaded into being irritated by some asshole or another so I can come off aggro af too when I don’t mean to be. Sometimes I can get overwhelmed and disappear for a week, other times I can end up overwhelming someone else by being too excited? I tend to watch how much I do and say because I feel like I might come off as smothering and am too used to being shut down and told to shut up so I just don’t?? Do anything sometimes. I’m also not very good at initiating contact sometimes so I tend to go days and weeks without speaking to others.

Do you rp smut?: YES / NO. Do you prefer to go into detail?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. Are you okay with black curtain?: YES / NO. - When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?: Usually only if it’s developmental for the characters involved. Sometimes it’s just fun to do! It really depends on the characters involved + if I have any muse in general for it. - Anything you would not want to rp there?: ???? Kinda vague, Idk? I mean if I don’t wanna rp somethin’ I’ll say so.

Are ships important to you?: YES / NO. Would you say your blog is ship-focused?: YES / NO. Do you use read more?: YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship — Multiverse / Singleverse. - What do you love to explore the most in your ships?: The relationship, the depth of two muses who can be wildly different or even similar. The multifaceted involvement of others to that relationship, the angst, the arguments, the sad moments along with all the happy things and how hard one might try while the other is cold-- etc. I don’t just want happy dates and sunshine, that’s not how relationships work after all! - What is your smut tag?: Kettledrums

Are you okay with pre-established relationships?: YES / NO. - And what kind of ones?: I like a lot of pre-established relationships! However, I can be a tad wary of child muses? Aka: The ones who are children of one of my muses. Reason being, sometimes even I don’t know how they’d raise a child so the muse in question would be off putting to me because it’s out of my realm. Beyond that, I’m down for just about everything!

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?: Since I have so many damn muses, I’mma just go with Shiro for all of this-- I suppose what they could find interesting is his very multifaceted dynamic as a soldier, human, technical non-human (Zombae), war worn, space exploring person. He can be rainbows and sunshine but also can suddenly become incredibly aggressive and cold. He’s not one or the other, he’s all and everything that he’s learned and encompassed while still remaining fragile and human in the end. Writing with him can be inspiring and can be soul wrenching, depending on the thread. As for plots, dude your character could be in space in one thread if the otherwise couldn’t be. There’s so many ways to go about writing with him?? He’s such an amazing character and the plots he can be instilled in are almost limitless with just his main verse.

- With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?: Hmn-- I guess the main one I have issues injecting him into place with would be the ones who are strictly non-tech oriented?? I mean, I can still have him there but getting him to fit is just?? Really difficult. Also with people who RP villains of his fandom and expect him not to be volatile. I’m sorry, but if you’re writing a S.endak or a Z.arkon-- you’re not going to get roses and butterflies with Shiro, plain and simple. If that’s something you can’t accept then don’t approach him with those muses. - With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?: He works really well with most anyone! So long as one goes into it knowing he can be hostile with soldiers, Galra, etc; then he can be used no matter what. He’s one of my most capable muses that doesn’t have much of an issue when it comes to responding.

- What interests your Muse(s) in general: Space, mechanics, biomedical engineering, people, freedom, fighting for a cause, flowers, his mother, violin, cats, sparring, getting stronger, constellations, nebulae, engineering, literature, alien languages, cooking. - What do they desire, is their goal?: The safety of others, the freedom of others, the ability to choose, hope-- he wants to make sure those he cares for and all others are free and safe from the Galra take over. - What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?: How they look at him. If they show signs of pity, of fear, he tends to walk away from any possible meeting with them. Otherwise, their appearance is what first catches his eye. How they dress, how they respond to him, how they talk and if he can make them crack a smile with an awkward joke. - What do they value in a person?: Hope, Strength, Loyalty, Purpose, Honesty, Patience. - What themes do they like talking about?: Shiro’s more of a listener than a talker, but honestly he’ll talk about anything of interest and question anyone’s as well to get them to talk about it. It’s what makes conversation with him easygoing most of the time. - Which themes bore them?: Himself. He’ll try to avert any conversation about himself if it’s too personal or too close to something. It’s not so much that it bores him but that type of talk is reserved for those insanely close to him. Also talk of command bores the FUCK out of him. He’s never been one to really like rank.

- Did they ever went through something traumatic?: So. Fucking. Much. Between being a prisoner of a war he was never involved with to being told he was a leader of a rebellion for said war, being a prisoner in the Arena and forced to fight and kill others, being held down and sedated as he tried to warn the others, DYING-- this boy has been thru too much. - What could possibly trigger them?: Certain noises, textures, Galra, medical equipment, certain lighting. - What could set them off, enrage them?: Galra, someone protecting him. - What could lead to an instant kill?: Any bloodlust towards him or those he cares for. Most of the time, he has this under control and tries to be merciful, give them a chance; but sometimes, especially during an episode; there’s no stopping him from gunning for someone’s throat if they had any intent to harm another or himself.

- Is there someone /-thing they hate?: Z.arkon, S.endak, L.otor, H.aggar, Druids, himself a lot of the time. - Is there someone /-thing they love?: The paladins, space fam in general, his mother, his friends, people in general.

Is your Muse easy to approach?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?: Just approach him? Honestly, Shiro’s one of the easiest persons to converse with and get near. That doesn’t mean his guard is dropped, but he’s very easy going a lot of the time outside of battle. So long as you have a reason to approach him (even simpler ones like: his appearance, his arm, etc) then you’re set. - Where are they usually to find?: Oof, honestly? Anywhere. Space, Earth, other places-- he’s constantly on the move. If you want a set place, just say somewhere on Earth and I can work with that.

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?: Shiro is certainly easy to get along with, but he is not without flaw or issue. He has a plethora of issues even after the fall of the Galra Empire. He’s not without his scars, physical and otherwise. Approaching him is easy but getting close to him is not. Don’t expect him to be an open book. Just because he can talk about war, battle, fighting with a straight face doesn’t mean he wasn’t effected by it. He has suffered greatly and it will show the closer you get to him.

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by: @skyvar [ <3 ] Tagging: IF YOU WANNA PARTAKE IN THIS INSANITY, PLEASE DO AND TAG ME IN IT SO I CAN READ IT!!!

#Thx Snow I'm dying now #I think I just filled my word quota that I didn't even have #Dash Games;#Long post //#Shiro;#Shiro Tidbits;#But tbh this was fun to do!!

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nie7027 · 5 years

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Super5 headcanons part 3

Part 1 Part 2

{{Yeah im posting it again because very few people have seen the original post and Im a simple human that craves validation, so please if you like it reblog it. I doubt ill do it again but just in case i put a nifty tag so you can block it}}

Thank you everybody for saying such nice things of part 2 (as i said i wasnt that confident so it made me really happy to know you liked it) and sorry for taking so long but school is a bitch and almost killed my inspiration. Anyway here comes part 3

Minegishi: i just got out work. Can someone care to tell me what happened?

Hatori: uhh, yeah . sorry

Hatori: i got out of work like an hour ago and came home to find Shimazaki sleeping on MY bed

Hatori: Shibata was already at the gym and shimazaki hasnt waken up so i dont know much more??

Hatori: i dont know either what to do...

Shibata: is he still there? I told him to take my bed!

Hatori: well he clearly didnt...

Minegishi: ok but HOW did you find him exactly?

Shibata: ill tell you later guys. My next class is about to start

Shibata: And dont worry Hatori! i dont think hell wake up anytime soon.

Shibata: You should have seen him carrying the dog! It was cute <3

Shibata: in a strange way

Minegishi: dog?? WHAT DOG?

Hatori: did you just say "carrying"?

Shibata: sorry guys gtg

Hatori: shit WAIT

Hatori: where am i supposed to sleep now? I cant sleep on the couch!

Shibata: you can sleep with me

Hatori: WHAT? NO

Shibata: Do you prefer to wake him up?

Hatori: I pick the right side

Minegishi: No homo

Hatori: fUCk U

Shimazaki wakes the next morning to the sound of someone gagging to his right

"THE HELL IS THAT SMELL? WHY DO YOU STINK SO MUCH?" yells Hatori before letting out a muffled yelp when the pillow Shimazaki threw hits him square on the face

Shibata, probably alerted by Hatoris screams, comes running and asks from the doorframe "Whats going here?"

"THAT BASTARD SMELLS LIKE POOP AND NOW MY BED WILL SMELL TOO" says Hatori while pointing at the man on his bed who is just groaning clearly annoyed at being awaken

"Hmm it was probably the dog" says Shibata pensive and then looks carefully at shimazaki "You dont have more clothes dont you?"

"Holy shit! Thats true. Youve been using the same clothes since then..."

Shimazaki cant understand why it suddenly matters so much to them "No i dont. Now that that has been cleared up can i go back to sleep?"

"You have to change first. Hatoris clothes wont fit you. so take a shower while i search for something to lend you" says shibata and then turns to Hatori "you gotta go now or you are gonna be late. Dont worry todays my day off, Ill wash your bed"

"Thanks man" says Hatori and then quickly discusses something abouy dinner with shibata before leaving the apartment. Shimazaki can only stare. He just wants to sleep.

But before he can turn his back and return to sleep Shibata is already on him hurrying him to the shower.

Shimazaki doesnt like the idea of giving up his clothes to Shibata (he doesnt like letting go of his possesions because Mental eye cant find inanimate objects and he learned early on life how easy it was to lose things) but even he is starting to get nauseous at the smell of trash and he isnt in the mood to deal with it himself

Shibatas clothes fit loosely but they are comfy, besides once he gets out the shower the man has breakfast ready for him (theres still a box of his favourite cereal) and leaves him to his own devices while he does laundry.

By the end of the day Shimazaki has his own clothes back and they are softer than he remembers ("its the softener" says Shibata, "the what?" responds shimazaki)

Minegishi and Hatori arrive later with boxes of take out and they eat together in awkward silence until Minegishi casually asks with a smirk if Hatori and Shibata slept well at which shibata laughs and tells them Hatori is a blanket hogger which in turn makes Hatori complain about shibatas snores.

The childish fight continues and even though Shimazaki doesnt take part in it he listens atently

At the end he returns to minegishis apartment that night and sleeps on the couch. Neither of them uttering a word of what happened.

The next time Minegishi asks him to go grocery shopping he accepts.

This is stupid. This was a waste of his time.

Shimazaki couldnt read price tags or labels and he didnt know what he was doing here or why Minegishi had brought him

At most he could tell apart boxes from cans and the weight of things but he couldnt differentiate whether he was holding a can of tuna from a can of yakitori sauce or 1k of salt from 1k of sugar without having to ask somebody else.

It was even worse when it came to liquids if the milk/juice failure was anything to go by

After the first few failures of trying to pick stuff Minegishi had tried to teach him about couponing and discounts but then again he had to ask him the price everytime and they both soon got tired of it

All he could do was to touch and feel the fruit and vegetables trying to tell apart the riped from the rotten/damaged

Looking for any bump, hole, softness...things Minegishi taught him

It was stupid.

Minegishi could ripen/fix any plant with his powers and they both knew it

This was a waste of time.

He hated every second of this and wanted to go already but Minegishi had been hellbent on him learning at least this and left him in the fruits section to pick whatever he deemed best while he finished the shopping.

And that was what he was TRYING to do when a store clerk had the brilliant idea of addressing him

In his defense they had been almost 3 hours here and he had been done since the first. The fact he didnt even know what the hell he was holding anymore except that it was round and ripe not helping his annoyance.

He turned to tell her to fuck off. He just wanted to intimadate her. Force her to leave him alone.

He may have gone a little bit overboard.

He opened his eyes.

"Excuse me sir. Customers arent supposed to grab the tomatoes with their bare hands. The bags are-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Her scream could be heard all around the store

Before he could teletransport away the tomato he was holding twisted and tangled its newly grown vines around his hand in a tight grip. (The sight of it clearly didnt help the girl's panic)

"Dont even think about it" hissed a pissed Minegishi when he passed by his side on his way towards the screaming girl.

Minegishi couldnt feel more stupid than he was feeling a the moment.

In his haste to initiate Shimazaki on the path of becoming a civil person he had somehow forgotten the man was actually blind (not his fault it was so easy to forget when you have seen him destroying entire buildings).

He had tried. He had really tried to come up with any way to fix this mess of a trip but it was getting late and they hadnt even started their actual shopping.

So at the end he gave up and left Shimazaki to the only task he thought could keep him busy and at the same time allowed minegishi to keep track of the mans position anytime while he hurriedly finished the shopping. It was a good plan. What could go wrong?

The moment he heard the scream he knew everything could and will go wrong where it concerned Shimazaki.

Thankfully he could feel he was still holding something vegetal (a tomato?) so Minegishi quickly dashed (shopping cart forgotten) to the mans position and the screaming girl.

His first instict had been to go and calm the girl even though he didnt know what had happened but when he realized people were starting to stare he quickly grabbed Shimazakis arm and dragged him the way he came.

"The fuck did you do?" Minegishi asked once they were in another aisle safe from curious stares

"I did nothing!" responded Shimazaki somewhat offended

" As if! What did you do to her? "

"I didnt do shit to her! I was just doing the fruit thing you asked me!" he raised his hand to show the tomato still holding onto it

"And? Why was she even near you?" mineshiki asked while his powers disentagled the vines and took the tomato

"ITS YOUR FAULT APPARENTLY WE ARENT SUPPOSED TO PICK THE FRUIT"

"Huh? What? I always do-THATS NOT IMPORTANT! Why was she screaming?!"

"I told her off"

"What? People dont scream like that when someone tells them off, even when you..." Shimazaki was clearly hiding something "How did you do it exactly?" minigishi asks with narrowed eyes

"....i may have opened my eyes"

"Your eyes?" minegishi stares increduously "whats that- oh" hes about to ask what was that supposed to mean when he remembers Shimazakis bottomless eyes caused by his physic powers. He may have gotten used to his hollow stare but he still remembers what he felt the first time he saw it. The girls scream finally making sense "You never open your eyes unless you want to threaten someome...did you want to threaten a simple clerk?? "

"No"

"Then?

"i just forgot!" shimazaki huffed

"You...forgot?"

"YES CAN WE GO NOW?" irritation lacing the mans tone

It was that moment that Minegishi realized this trip was taking a bigger toll on shimazaki than he (and probably even the man himself) anticipated and sighed.

"Yeah, i was almost finished anyway lets find the cart"

Shimazaki silently followed.

They finished the shopping without any further accident and while they waited in line to pay something caught minegishis eyes. It was just what he needed.

There was a row of cheap aviator glasses hanging in display.

After some considerantion he grabbed one of the pair with the mirror lens kind and handed them to a now calmer Shimazaki "Here, put this"

Shimazaki who had been following Minegishis movements asked curiously "whats this?"

"Glasses. In case you forget to keep your eyes closed again people wont be able to see your eyes. Put them on and open your eyes. i need to see if they fit and if they'll work"

He miraculously did.

The frame was thicker than it was supposed to be for these kind of glasses (a crude imitation of the stylish kind people wear in magazines) but they fitted and the mirror lens hid perfectly shimazakis glowing irises(?) (Hell never know)

"How do they feel?"

"Strange"

"You could wear them only when you are out in public. They are cheap. Ill buy them and you can do whatever you want with them"

Shimazaki took them off and when it was time to pay he handed them to minegishi

Once outside shimazaki at first refused to teletransport the bags back to the apartment but complied once Minegishi told him he would force him to help carry the bags all the way if he didnt do it AND promised to buy take out to eat.

Minegishi thought the glasses had been left forgotten in the bags but the next morning while he was getting ready to work he noticed they were laying folded on top of a sleeping shimazaki

When Hatori and Shibata inevitably asked about Shimazakis new glasses(that he now used all the time) minegishi told them about what was now deemed as the "supermarket incident"

The next times they went shopping Minegishi stayed all the time with Shimazaki and kept teaching him about vegetables and any thing that came to his mind.

Once they finished (everytime quicker than the previos) it became Shimazakis job to drop the goods at the apartment in exchange of picking what they were going to eat that day

It wasnt exactly what Minegishi had planned but it was a progress (or that was what he thought until Hatori complained about tripping on shopping bags that suddenly appeared in the middle of the hall whenever Shimazaki dropped something there)

Shibata was annoyed because even though they all agreed Shimazaki was behaving nicer the others didnt still believe him about the whole puppy ordeal

so that, coupled with the nagging feeling he had left after washing shimazakis clothes and after hearing about the market incident made him come up with a plan

"A mall trip?? What for?" hatori asked perplexed

"He has just one shirt"

"So?"

"He has been wearing it since we were together, actually i dont remember him wearing anything else ever"

"Thats his problem!"

"HIS JACKET HAS BULLET HOLES " replied shibata getting impatient with how much it was taking Hatori to understand

"He probably likes it that way??" said Hatori still not getting it

"Actually ive been thinking the same. I noticed the bullet holes too" finally came Minegishis voice from the receiver. He was was working at the moment because if they wanted to do this he had to work a double shift to free one day. "I dont think he has anything else"

"See? Minegishis with me!" exclaimed thriumohantly Shibata which only made Hatori roll his eyes

"Fine! i get it! Ive seen the bullet holes too...but i dont get why does it have to be us?"

"Because we are his friends" easily replied Shibata causing Hatori to frown at this

"Are we really? When has he done something for us?" hatoris tone suddenly turning serious "You are literally asking me to spend one of my few days off shopping clothes with MY MONEY for a guy who wanted to kill me mere months ago?"

"We dont know that" said shibata

Hatori trew him a glance that clearly was supposed to mean 'you gotta be kidding' "Look, do we even know if he likes us back?"

At this both men kept silence until shibata dared to speak "he is wearing the glasses"

"God forbid me for forgetting those damn glasses! Guys, im just saying we are already doing so much for him for nothing! why do we need to do more?"

"Because thats what good people do" came Minegishis response and shibata nodded firmly making hatori huff. He was gonna regret this.

" fine! But do we even know if hes gonna like what we buy? If hes gonna even wear it? As you said we had never seen with other clothes"

"Thats why we are gonna take him with us!" said Shibata, glad that this was finnally getting somewhere

Hatori turned to look at the phone "didnt you said you believed shopping stressed him?"

"Mmm these last times had been better" said minegishi

"What if he actually doesnt care about the clothes or-"

"He does" replied Shibata and Minegishi in unison making Hatori stare confusedly

"How do you know?"

Shibata thought back to the hesitance he noticed on shimazaki when he handed him his clothes but didnt think the man in question would like it if he went and tell this to the others and was debating this when minegishi spoke again "Ive noticed someone has been using my softener and i doubt its the plants"

Hatori frowned and then sighed

"You both have settled your minds dont you?" hatori asked and then grumbled when an unison "yes" was heard

"Do you realize we are working with a lot of 'maybes' and 'probably'?"

"Maybe" said the voice from the receiver and Hatori could swear he could hear minegishis smirk

"C'mon man! We have done worse than this" said Shibata happily clapping Hatoris back

"Ugh FINE That bastard better be grateful" grumbled Hatori

This part forced me to think of shimazakis past and now i made myself sad (this isnt the first time he wears glasses)

So the market incident and the glasses scene was stuff i thought about since i started these and was really excited to write it. I hope i did them justice .

I didnt realize how much longer part II was compared to part I so i think part III ended in a nice middle ground.

Haha i again didnt reach the scene i planned to reach(the prank) and at this pace this thing will have 6 parts. Someone save me

Anyway hope you like it and for those of you who dont know I am writing a Teru-centric fanfic about his decision to visit his parents and the aftermath and ill appreciate it if you could check it out (link here) and tell me what you think or at least share it so more people can see it because tumblr sucks and wont let me do it.

See you next time

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #shimazaki ryou #minegishi toshiki #shibata hiroshi #hatori nazomu #super5 headcanons #nies spam

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sweetwhumpandhellacomf · 6 years

Text

Willow and Grackle’s (Bad) Road Trip

Willow and Grackle settle into a peaceful life at the dorms. Grackle finds employment in acting as a courier for the clinic, delivering parcels of medicine to patients who need regular refills. Willow buys a slightly larger bed for his room, so he and Grackle can both fit more comfortably. Grackle even makes an attempt to socialize with Willow's friends and colleagues, though he still prefers spending time in their shared room when things get busy.

Grackle feels really happy for the first time.

Returning home from a delivery one evening, excited to keep reading the book about the pirate queen with Willow, he hears footsteps behind him. He slows down from his jog, straining to hear. One person, it sounds like, soon joined by two, then three. They slow a bit when he does, then break into a run.

Grackle begins to run as well. Years of experience have taught him that people chasing him never have good intentions. Best to get somewhere more public quickly, then make for home. Three more people dash out from around a corner to block his path. "Not so fast, Blackbird," one of them says. They're all wearing dark clothing, and they look large and muscular. Grackle darts off to the side, making for some shadows he can disappear into, but one of those from behind cuts him off.

"Someone wants to see you, and we suggest you come quietly," the speaker from before continues, drawing a polished wood club from his belt. "Ain't afraid to get rough." Grackle narrows his eyes and he draws two daggers from his hips, backing up slowly. Someone tries to get behind him; he whirls, shifting his grip in a swift movement to slash upwards. The assailant cries out in surprise, staggering back and clutching their face.

"I offered civility," the speaker says with a shrug. "Get 'im."

Six people close around Grackle. He opens his eyes wide, and sees some of them hesitate, probably unnerved by how his pupils reflect the dim ambient light. Someone lunges and he leaps back, jabbing an elbow into whoever tries to grab him from behind. He focuses himself into a whirlwind of steel, waiting for an escape route to open while he keeps his attackers at bay. There--one of them breaks away from the pack, stumbling away with blood covering their face. He darts through the gap and into the shadow of a building, and vanishes.

He moves through the shadows, up to the flat rooftop shaded by an umbrella. He emerges and looks over the edge, watching his assailants try to search for him in the shadows. He grins; looks like that little trick saved him. Without waiting to see if they'd give up, he resumes his way home, leaping between rooftops.

Willow's waiting when he climbs in through the window; he no longer needs to go in that way, really, but it lets him see Willow's face faster. His sweetheart smiles, then looks shocked and rushes to his feet. "Grackle, you're covered in blood!"

"Not mine," Grackle assures him, shedding his jacket so he won't get blood on Willow when the physician runs over to hug him tight. "Got attacked."

Willow looks up in alarm, immediately checking him over for any injury. "You didn't get hurt, did you?" Grackle shakes his head. Willow sighs in relief, pulling Grackle close again. "I'm glad you're safe." Grackle buries his face in Willow's mass of curly hair, calming himself with the scent of herbs and fresh linen.

---

Grackle maintains vigilance for the next few days, but his assailants don't reappear. He hopes they've given up the chase; maybe whoever's paying them wasn't paying enough for the trouble. He lowers his guard, but still keeps a watchful eye out as always.

One night, he's walking with Willow after the physician had a hard and tiresome day at the clinic; taking a stroll through the balmy night air always seemed to re-energize him just enough. "It's really pretty tonight," Willow says, smiling and looking up at the stars twinkling in the blue-black sky. "The ancestors must be happy for us." Grackle feels himself blush, and he squeezes Willow's hand, humming his assent.

He hears footsteps behind them; one pair, then two, then four, all very quick. Heart pounding, he grips Willow's hand tightly and whispers, "Run."

They run, Grackle careful to keep pace with the slower Willow and not leave him behind. He hears a clack and pop up ahead and skids to a stop, using precious time to yank Willow's scarf up over his face to cover his eyes and mouth, to protect him from what he expects to be a smoke grenade. Light explodes at their feet, and Grackle cries out, eyes searing before he gets a chance to close them.

Someone grabs at him from behind, but he yanks away before they get a chance to close their hand. He finds Willow again and pulls him close, blindly sidestepping. "Willow??"

"I'm fine!" Willow holds his hand tight. Grackle squeezes back. He blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to return his vision, but everything is a mess of white and grey. Willow is pulled away from him suddenly and he hears him yell out in protest. "Let go!"

Grackle surges forward, grabbing blindly in an attempt to reclaim him, but someone else pulls him back, calloused hands wrapped around his wrists. "I did offer civility," the voice from the other night says, uncomfortably close. Grackle's heart pounds. "See what happens when you don't cooperate? You get ordinary citizens caught up in your trouble, Blackbird." He hears Willow's strangled cry, hears him coughing. "Could've avoided this."

"Don't hurt him!" Grackle says desperately, trying to escape his captor. "Don't!"

There's a moment where all he hears is Willow struggling to breathe. "Promise to behave if we keep this one safe?" Grackle nods frantically. Willow takes a deep gulp of air and coughs again. His breathing after is wheezy and irregular, but it's there. Grackle relaxes a bit.

"Right," the voice says. "Let's go, lads." Someone clubs Grackle on the back of his head. He staggers forward, what's left of his vision turning black.

---

Grackle isn't sure how long it takes for him to reawaken. The floor under him is rattling up and down. It feels too hot for it to be nighttime still, but he can't see a thing. His head throbs, and so do his eyes. He can't have gone blind from the flash bomb, can he? He blinks rapidly and shifts his head, trying to look around. The sound of cloth covering his head brings realization. A sack or hood is blinding him. Giving his eyes time to focus, he can barely see light through small gaps in the threads. He tries to reach up to remove it, but his hands are stuck behind him. Something coarse binds his wrists together, and tugging on them scrapes his skin uncomfortably. Experimentally, he tries to move his legs, but discovers his ankles are bound as well.

Grackle bits back panic. He's been restrained before. He can handle it. He--

A hand touching his head startles him and he jerks away. "Grackle, it's me," Willow whispers, voice muffled by the cloth. "I-I saw you moving."

Grackle's breath hitches. He wants to talk to Willow, try to reassure him, but he can't find his voice. They'd said they'd keep Willow safe--Grackle hadn't imagined they'd meant taking him along as well. He hears a distressed whine escape his throat.

Willow pets his head gently. "I'm okay," he says, still keeping his voice low. "They didn't hurt me, but--I guess they're gonna use me to keep you calm..." His voice wavers. Grackle leans into the touches, desperate to be as close to Willow as possible. "We're in a covered wagon. They took us out of town, but haven't mentioned where they're going."

Someone barks for Willow to shut up, and Grackle doesn't hear him speak again. He lifts Grackle to lie on his lap, carefully rubbing his back and shoulders. The action does help to calm him, but panic is still rising in his gut. What are they going to do to him? What are they going to do to Willow when they don't need him anymore? He's grateful Willow can't see when frightened tears start spilling down his cheeks and he has to bite his lip to stop from sobbing out loud.

---

Grackle has no idea how much time passes, but Willow lets him know when they stop for the night. He's painfully thirsty and hungry by this point; their captors allow Willow to feed him some slices of crusty bread and give him a cup of water, but not remove the hood. Willow sits in the rear of the wagon with him, massaging his arms to try and keep his hands from going numb from the restraints. It's not unpleasant, but Grackle wishes it was under better circumstances.

"Someone's definitely noticed us missing by now," Willow says after he's settled Grackle up against his side. "I bet we'll be rescued before long."

Grackle hopes so. His panic has faded, but fresh waves of dread wash over him constantly. What kind of person would want to capture him alive? He supposes there are bounties out for him and the other Blackbirds, but they'd made sure to remove every piece of evidence of their identities from their old home. He lived as "Gray" in the clinic dorms, and the others had taken assumed names for their new lives as well. How and why had these people tracked him down?

He eventually falls into an uneasy sleep, wishing he could wrap his arms around Willow just for the night.

---

It feels like another day's worth of travel before the feel of the road under the wagon changes. Grackle listens intently, and determines that they're on cobblestone instead of bumpy dirt. Another town? It seems Willow can't see outside the wagon, but Grackle hears him shifting around nearby.

The wagon eventually comes to a stop. There's muffled discussion outside, then the sound of the wagon's rear covering being pulled open. Willow puts a hand on Grackle's shoulder and squeezes reassuringly before someone climbs inside and pulls him away. "Where are you taking us?" Willow asks, voice brave despite the waver in it. Grackle feels someone pull him out of the wagon and heave him over their shoulder, then start to carry him away. Willow's voice is more distant when he calls out, "Grackle, I'll be okay! Don't worry!"

He's taken indoors, but beyond that he doesn't know what sort of building. Doors open and close; he tries to memorize the layout, but blinded and muffled as he is it's difficult. His carrier drops him onto a hard mattress. He hears their footsteps, hears a door shut, and hears a lock click.

He's alone. He doesn't know for how long.

Some amount of time later, the door unlocking and swinging open grabs his attention and he tries to sit up. He hears footsteps rush over to him and kneel by his side, before they're locked back in again. "Grackle, are you alright?" Willow asks, pulling the hood off. The room is dim, but it still takes his eyes a moment to adjust so he can see. Willow's face is worried. Grackle doesn't feel alright, but he's at least uninjured, and he doesn't want to worry Willow more than he has to, so he nods. Willow sighs in relief. "They said I can untie you. Or, try to. I don't know if I'm much good with knots."

He shifts to kneel behind Grackle and gets to work on the rope binding his wrists. He holds as still as possible, heart sinking every time Willow makes a noise of frustration. He don't know if he can stand being bound for however long they intend to hold him for. Finally, with a triumphant, "Got it!" Willow pulls the ropes loose, throwing them aside. Grackle's up on his knees before he realizes, pulling Willow close and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Willow returns the embrace, stroking his hair. "You're alright now. We'll be alright."

The ropes binding his ankles are easier for Willow, and soon, they're huddled together on the mattress, Grackle with his arms wrapped desperately around Willow. Willow pets his hair to try and settle him, and it works just a bit. Someone slides a tray with bread and water into the room through a small flap, and Willow leaves him just long enough to bring it over. "You should eat more," Willow encourages him. "I'm fat, I can go longer with less. It's medically sound." Grackle shakes his head in protest, looking at the extra two slices Willow's trying to offer him. "You need your strength for whatever's going to happen. Grackle, please?"

He eventually relents, though guilt eats at him more than hunger would have. Once the tray is clear of crumbs, he tries to calm himself down enough to assess the situation.

The room is barren. The only furniture is the mattress and a chamber pot. The door is locked from the outside, and there are no windows. The walls are a solid stucco, and the floor is stone. The only tools at their disposal are some scratchy rope, a hood, a tray, and two empty ceramic cups. His daggers and other weapons and tools were taken away, probably before they even put him on the wagon.

He's tired. He'll try to come up with an escape plan tomorrow. "Do you wanna try to sleep?" Willow asks. "We can push the mattress into a corner if you'd feel safer..."

Grackle nods. He moves the mattress, while Willow stuffs the hood with the rope to form a makeshift pillow. "It's not going to be really comfortable," he apologizes. "But it's probably still better than going without..."

"It's fine," Grackle mumbles. Willow offers a weak smile. Grackle settles down on the side against the wall, and Willow lays next to him. Grackle tucks his head under Willow's chin, closing his eyes and imagining they're back in Willow's dorm room, with the lingering smell of baking hanging in the halls. Willow's warm body against his is just enough to help him feel a little safer.

---

Grackle isn't sure how much sleep he managed to get, but he doesn't think it was enough. The door opens and heavy footfalls enter, waking them both. Grackle is the first to sit up, jumping to alertness and blocking the still-dozy Willow with his body. Two people haul Grackle to his feet by his upper arms, while the third keeps an eye on Willow. "Wha, where are you taking him?" Willow asks, trying to wake up faster. He goes to stand but the third thug pushes him back down roughly. Grackle watches him desperately until he's dragged out of the room and another hood is yanked down over his head.

Cold iron shackles snap around his wrists, binding them behind his back. His breath catches and his heart starts racing, already knowing what awaits him now. Punishment. He struggles wildly in his panic until one of his captors slugs him in the gut and he doubles over, gasping. "You best stop that," she says sharply. "We'll hurt the other one if you don't knock it off."

Willow. He has to protect Willow. With a low whine, he does his best to ignore the cold of the cuffs and stumble along with his captors. "He's so pathetic," the voice says. "Is this really one of the Blackbirds?"

"That's what the informant said," a second voice answers. "And maybe they're not all this weak. Just disappointing that this is the one he wants."

The pair take him down what feels like a straight corridor. His hearing is muffled by the hood, but he picks up on the sound of a breeze outside a window. He makes a note of it as a possible escape route. There's a pause and a door opening, and he's pulled inside a new room. "Wait here." One of them shoves him down onto a rug-covered floor, and as he struggles to right himself he hears them both exit.

Grackle tries to take deep breaths to settle himself. Whatever's waiting for him can't be good, but panicking won't help him now. The shackles dredge up awful memories, but he can deal with those. For now, anyway. Maybe if he can focus on trying to form an escape plan…

The door opens again and he sits up straighter, ready to spring away at the first chance. Heels click deliberately on the floor before coming to a stop. A hand grasps the hood and yanks it off. He blinks rapidly in the bright room, trying to adjust after spending so long blinded and in dimness. He looks up into a face that seems somehow familiar, a man with a streak of white in dark hair. "These mercenaries claim you're a Blackbird," he says. "For their sake and yours, I hope they're correct."

Grackle doesn't let any emotion show as the man, probably a merchant of some kind by his dress, crouches before him. "They also tell me they brought along an extra. Someone you seem very fond of. Do you know what it's like to lose somebody like that?" Grackle says nothing, staring just to the side of his captor's face and trying not to shake. "Hopefully, you won't have to find out. I'm not as cruel as you." Grackle shifts his gaze forward, looking the man in the eyes. "You see, Blackbird, I found out when you murdered my sister Diamante."

Grackle blinks. That explained the familiarity; he'd spent weeks monitoring the late Lady Diamante prior to executing his assignment. "It so happens there's a large bounty out for any Blackbirds caught," the man continues. "I don't necessarily need the money, but if it rids the world of scum like you, I'm willing to hand you over."

Grackle still doesn't answer. "First, though, I intend to exact some revenge of my own. I'm going to make you match the pain I felt!" The man stands swiftly, and Grackle starts to get to his feet as well, fully prepared to dodge any assault, but the merchant is faster. He slams a leather boot into Grackle's gut, knocking the wind out of him and toppling him back onto his side.

The merchant shoves the boot against his back, forcing him to roll onto his front. Grackle struggles to regain his breath and right himself again, but the boot comes again, jabbing into his side repeatedly. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will himself to his feet when the boot comes down hard on the back of his knee. He cries out, immediately biting his tongue after to keep himself quiet. He hears the merchant take a few steps back, breathing heavily. "Not done with you yet," he mutters, leaning down to yank Grackle over onto his back.

Grackle forces himself to sit, thinking that this was nothing compared to what he's been through before. He can endure this kind of beating. He just has to get back to Willow in one piece. The boot collides with his shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. He hisses in pain, instinctively yanking at his shackles in an attempt to hold the newly sore spot. The merchant shoves him back onto the floor, then brings his foot down to rest on Grackle's vulnerable throat. He goes still, staring up at his assailant and doing his best not to provoke him.

"I can't believe how easily I could kill you," the merchant says, eyes wild and hair disheveled from his exertion. He presses down just a little bit more. "Just hold you down like this for a few minutes..." He presses harder. Grackle gasps for air, feeling his windpipe squeezing closed. He starts to thrash against his tormentor, struggling to get free, but this only seems to encourage the merchant to press his neck against the floor.

Grackle feels himself growing lightheaded, and grey and white lights pop in front of his eyes. The pressure finally releases and his starving lungs take in air in huge, unsteady gulps. "That's more mercy than a monster like you deserves, though," the merchant says, wiping at his forehead with his sleeve. Grackle feels sweat and tears trickle down the sides of his face, and he shuts his eyes to avoid looking at him. "And besides, I won't be done with you for a while yet." The merchant gives himself a moment, time that Grackle gratefully takes to recover himself. He lies on the floor, trying to steady himself. Before he can calm himself much further, a solid kick to the side brings him back to dreadful awareness. He doesn't have time to even register it before the merchant finds a rhythm of kicks and shoves, inflicting pain on every part of Grackle's body he can reach. Grackle finds himself blanking out, lost in the pain.

Some time later, he's dimly aware of two people speaking. "I'm done with him," the merchant says. "Get him out of my sight."

"At once, Carvaho." Is that one of the two who'd brought him in? He can't tell. Someone sits him up and tugs the discarded hood back over his head, not that he feels in any shape to care where he's going. He's slung over their shoulder and carried back down the same hall, then thrown down onto the mattress without regard for his comfort. The shackles are unlocked and pulled away, along with the hood.

Willow is immediately in his field of vision, blurry but a wonderfully welcome sight. The physician gathers him up into his arms, and despite the comforting warmth and scent of herbs, he cries out in protest as his battered body is moved again.

"It's okay," Willow whispers. He feels him stroking his hair, and that alone helps him settle down. "I'm here, Grackle. I'm right here for you." It's a while before he can bring himself to move, but he eventually manages to bunch himself up against Willow's body, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

---

Grackle drifts in an exhausted daze until their food is brought in. He makes himself sit up to eat, but he doesn't have the energy to finish chewing through their meager meal. Willow makes sure he at least drinks his cup of water and sets the remains aside.

He doesn't know how long it's been by the time he actually wakes up again. The room is completely dark, except for a dim sliver of light from the gaps around the door flap. Willow is fast asleep at his side, arms wrapped around him securely. Grackle sighs and buries his face into Willow's shirt, trying to imagine they're back in the dorm instead of trapped in ancestors-knew-where. The aches from his earlier beating come to the forefront and interrupt his fantasy, dropping a ton of hard reality on him.

He shoves all thought aside and tries to fall back asleep.

---

It feels like no sleep was gotten at all by the time the door opens an unknown amount of time later. By the time Grackle brings himself to awareness, Willow has already disentangled himself from Grackle and is standing in front of the mattress. "Are you going to hurt him again?" the physician asks, putting on a brave voice.

One of the mercenaries sighs and grabs Willow by the arm, yanking him away while the other retrieves Grackle. "We don't have to play nice with you," she says. "It's only to keep your friend in line that you're even alive. You'd better be damned grateful." She practically throws Willow into the far wall.

Grackle flails against the other mercenary's grasp, overcome with the need to get to Willow again; the shackles close around his wrists and lock them behind his back before he can force his complaining, sluggish muscles to react. He tries to call Willow's name, but his voice is stuck. The last thing he sees before the hood closes over his head again is Willow crumpling to the floor in a heap.

The mercenaries end up having to carry him to the room from yesterday. Grackle finds himself too exhausted to fight them, let alone walk. He's flung to the floor again, and he lies still, waiting for what'll happen next.

It feels like ages before the door opens again, and he braces himself for the click of heels, but it's the thumping of the mercenaries' boots again. Someone hauls him up to stand, and removes one wrist from the shackles. He tries to break out of their grip then, but one of them locks a hand around his throat to hold him steady as another drags his arms up, re-securing the shackles hanging above him. He hears them step back, and his throat is freed, letting him breathe again. "Looks good enough," one says, and they leave.

Good enough? For what? Horrid thoughts course through his head, reminders of when he still worked for Rook. This position is uncomfortably familiar, and sends fresh waves of panic throughout his body. He squeezes his eyes shut under the hood, easily falling back into that old mindset. Whatever's coming, he just has to endure it without making a sound. It's just a punishment.

Minutes slide by painfully slow as he waits. His already aching arms complain from being held up so long. Whatever he's chained to, he can't lift his body enough to slip his wrists free. Somehow, the anticipation feels worse than the upcoming punishment surely would be. At least Rook got it over with quickly.

The door opens, and straining his ears, he hears the click of heels. Carvaho--that's his captor's name, he remembers--strides over to stand in front of him. The hood is lifted off, and as Grackle blinks to adjust to the light, Carvaho takes his jaw in his hand. "Is this yours, then?" He holds up a dagger, one of Grackle's daggers. Grackle looks at it, but says nothing. Carvaho holds the dagger to his face, cold blade pressing into his skin. "Is this what you killed my sister with?"

Grackle remains silent, not that he feels any answer would have spared him. Carvaho tightens his knuckles around the hilt and presses down hard, dragging the dagger down his cheek. Grackle hisses in pain, trying to jerk away, but his chin is held fast. The dagger is pulled away, leaving a sharply throbbing mark that's already dripping blood down his skin.

Carvaho steps back, staring down at the bloody blade for a moment. "...Right." He grabs the front of Grackle's shirt and pulls it forward, thrusting the dagger forward. Grackle jerks backwards, afraid he's about to be stabbed, but the blade just cuts down through the fabric, slicing the shirt open. Carvaho slices the hems apart and yanks the sides of the ruined garment aside. He stares at Grackle's torso a moment, no doubt taking in all the old scars, and promptly turns on his heel.

"Oh stars," he hears the merchant mutter, and Grackle feels himself relax a bit. This man was so soft that he couldn't handle a few old wounds? He can't imagine what he'd do if he saw his back. He snorts lightly through his nose.

Carvaho turns back to him, scowling. "Oh, is this funny to you now?" he demands. "I said I'd repay the pain you caused me, and I intend to!" He grips Grackle's shirt, holding it aside with a white-knuckled hand. The knife dances closer to his exposed body. Carvaho takes a deep breath and drags it down his ribs. Grackle winces, but it's no worse than other injuries he's had to endure. The knife shifts aside, and pulls down again, the movement steadier and more certain this time. Grackle cracks an eye open, and is chilled to see an emboldened look on the merchant's face.

"I wonder if it would be more effective for me to cut up your little sweetheart," Carvaho says, dragging the blade downwards again. Grackle's breath catches and he stares at him wide-eyed. "Oh, now there's the reaction I want!" The merchant grins, bringing the bloody dagger up to scrape on Grackle's jawline. "You really are attached to him." The blade bites into his skin, drawing forth more blood. "I didn't think a monster like you could feel anything, with all the killing you do. Is he your little pet?"

Grackle clenches his teeth, but says nothing. Hearing this man talk about Willow like this makes his blood boil, but there's nothing he can do about it now. Just bear with it, he reminds himself. Carvaho studies him a moment, then brings the dagger back down to his chest. "...Let's add to your scars."

The torture is silent from then on, broken only by a breathless gasp from Grackle when the blade cuts into a particularly sensitive spot. His chest stings from over a dozen long, shallow cuts and even more small wounds caused by flicks of the tip of the blade. The smell of blood and sweat saturates the air, and it's all Grackle can do to keep from sagging in his bonds. He slumps back against the post he's shackled to, hoping for it to end soon.

Carvaho steps back from him at last, and Grackle hears him breathing heavily. "I think you've had enough for today," he says, throwing the dagger to the floor with a clatter. He walks to the door and opens it, calling for a mercenary to return Grackle again.

Grackle doesn't fight as he's re-shackled and hooded again, though being flung over the mercenary's shoulder grates on his wounds and he lets out a weak cry of pain. He's flung back onto the hard mattress, and adding injury to injury, a kick is delivered to his gut. "That's for gettin' blood on my clothes," the mercenary says, before removing the hood and shackles and leaving.

He opens his eyes blearily and is greeted with Willow's face, eyes rapidly filling with tears as he sees the state Grackle's in. "Oh, Grackle..." Willow grabs one hand in both of his, squeezing gently. "I'll do my best to take care of you. Wait a minute." Grackle mumbles some vaguely assenting noise, and Willow stands, going over to the door.

"Excuse me, can I have some bandages?" Willow asks, pounding on the door. "I need to take care of him!" Silence answers; Willow pounds on it again. "Is anyone even there?"

The door pounds back, practically slamming. "Shut up in there," a muffled voice answers. "Just deal with it." Willow stands in silence for a moment, then returns to Grackle's side.

"I can do this anyway," Willow says. "I just need your shirt."

Grackle forces himself to sit up, removing the remains of his shirt before collapsing against the wall and closing his eyes. He hears fabric ripping, and then there's a stinging sensation as Willow gently dabs up what blood he can. Willow works quickly, murmuring reassurances and instructions to Grackle. "Just sit up for a second. You're doing really well. Can you hold this down for me?" Grackle follows his commands automatically, too tired to even consider otherwise. When he's done, he glances down to see the worst of his wounds wrapped up in the ruins of his shirt. It seems the smaller ones have already started to close.

Willow helps him settle down onto the mattress. "You try and sleep. I'll wake you when they bring food, alright?" Grackle nods, closing his eyes and shifting to rest his head in Willow's lap.

He tries to sleep, but some of Carvaho's words keep drifting through his mind. "...Willow," he whispers, unsure if his voice would even work again. He opens his eyes to see Willow look over in the dim light. "...Am I... a monster?"

"Stars, Grackle, no, of course not!" Willow reaches down to smooth his hair. "Did you choose to be an assassin?" Grackle shakes his head, leaning into Willow's touch. "And did you enjoy when you had to take lives?" He shakes his head again. "You had to do that because you didn't have a choice. You're not a monster."

Still feeling a bit miserable, Grackle, reaches up to hold Willow's hand. "Promise?"

Willow lifts the hand, pressing his lips to the back of it. "I promise."

---

Willow finds himself a bit disoriented when he wakes on his own the next morning (is it really morning? he can't tell in here), instead of by a sudden intrusion to take Grackle away again. He sighs softly and rubs his cheek against Grackle's forehead, glad his battered sweetheart finally gets a chance to sleep properly during their imprisonment.

His skin feels far too warm, though. Frowning, Willow disentangles himself from Grackle's clutch, bringing up a hand to press against his forehead. He's burning up. "Oh no," Willow murmurs, fear creeping into his heart. "Oh no, Grackle..." He pulls himself out of his arms fully, squinting through the gloom to get a better look at him. He brushes a thumb down Grackle's cheek, wiping away a sheen of sweat. Grackle doesn't awaken from the contact, either.

Willow pushes himself to his feet, swaying a bit; leaving most of the food for Grackle has left him feeling less than his best. He finds his way over to the door, pounding on it with his fist. "Is someone out there?" he calls. "We need some medicine! He's got a fever!" There's no answer. "Please, I'm a physician! I can tell you what we need!" There's no answer. Willow waits a few moments, holding his breath. "Is anyone there?"

There's no answer.

Ignoring the prickle of tears in his eyes, Willow returns to Grackle's side.

---

Grackle comes to awareness very slowly. He's warm, but too warm. His body feels heavy. His cuts are throbbing. He whines lowly, curling around himself. A soft hand caresses his cheek, and he sluggishly grasps it. "Hey," Willow whispers. "Don't try to move much. You have a really bad fever."

Fever? He opens his eyes to look up, and Willow swims into view next to him. "Some of your cuts must have gotten infected. I tried to ask for some medicine, but... nobody answered." He closes his eyes, pressing himself up against Willow. "I'll do my best to take care of you," the physician says. "But you're going to be miserable."

Miserable turns out to be an understatement. Hours later, Grackle is shivering violently, the air in the room chilling his over-warm body. Willow has wrapped him up in his arms, but the scant warmth can only do so much. His brain pops with small jolts of lightning whenever his eyes shift, or even at random. He longs for a real bed and real blankets. Willow murmurs soothing words to him, but he only understands about half the time.

When Willow leaves him for even brief moments, he cries out in weak protest, but can't even get up to try to pull him back. At some point, a cup of water is pressed to his lips, and he forces himself to swallow it. He can't muster an appetite for the stale bread, despite Willow's pleading. He drifts in and out of awareness, sometimes lucid enough to hear Willow telling some story. Just the sound of his voice helps, even if he's unable to really listen. At some point, he wakes to realize that Willow is asleep next to him again, arms and legs wrapped around his shivering body as much as possible. He presses his face into his chest and drifts off once more.

---

He feels worse the next time someone comes for him. He doesn't even put up a token resistance as he's hauled off the mattress, shackled, and hooded like before. He faintly hears Willow calling out in protest, but he can't understand the words.

Before he realizes it, he's tossed to the floor of the room from previous encounters with Carvaho. He shivers weakly in the too-cold air, hoping this time is at least quick so he can get back to Willow's warm grasp.

Someone grabs him by the throat and his eyes flutter open. Dimly he recognizes Carvaho's sneering face, speaking words that Grackle is too sick to understand. He feels lightheaded and can't tell if it's from his air being cut off or from the fever spiking. His eyes slide shut again and something strikes him hard across the face, rousing him painfully.

"--lieve how pathetic you are," he hears the merchant spit. "No fight in you anymore. I should just go ahead and kill that sweetheart of yours and turn you over for some proper justice."

Grackle struggles weakly at the mention of Willow, but all he can do to protest is to shake his head. "And how do you expect to stop me, the state you're in?" He's flung back onto the floor, a boot pressing down on his chest to pin him. "A caged bird like you is absolutely powerless."

He dimly hears the door open, crashing into the wall. Carvaho shifts, managing to sputter "What do you th--" before something cuts him off with a strangled cry. His heels click unsteadily before he comes crashing down, landing across Grackle.

Someone picks him up. He smells leather and blood, and instantly leans into his savior's muscular arms. "Willow," he croaks. "Down the... hall..."

Willow is at his side already, cupping his face in his hands. "I'm here," he says. "They got me first." Grackle relaxes, eyes sliding shut.

Willow strokes his head gently, then looks up at Jackdaw as one of the other Blackbirds frees Grackle from the shackles. "He needs medical attention right now," he says. "Can we do that before we get out of here?" Jackdaw nods, shifting Grackle to hold him more comfortably. "I don't know if they'll have everything I need here, but can you look?" Jackdaw nods again.

They find a spare bedroom, one that doesn't have a dead merchant or mercenary in it, and Grackle is lowered onto the mattress. "Look for echinacea--coneflower," Willow instructs, quickly covering Grackle up with the blankets. "If they have a medicine cabinet, it should be labeled. Feverfew or willow bark will work if they don't have coneflower. I need bandages, some clean cloth, and a pitcher of water." The gathered assassins scatter, leaving Willow with one he doesn't recognize. "What's your name?"

"Raven," she answers. "How can I help?"

Willow smiles. "Raven. If they find the herbs I need, can you make a tea of them?" She nods. "Thank you."

The supplies are gathered, and Willow gets right to work, first cleaning Grackle's cuts with a soaked towel while Raven makes echinacea tea. He re-wraps the wounds in proper bandages, then sits Grackle up with Jackdaw's help and gets him to gulp down the tea, along with a cup of water. He still seems delirious and largely unresponsive, but being surrounded and helped by familiar people appears to help.

With the emergency treatment taken care of, Willow instructs the Blackbirds to bundle Grackle up in some blankets before carrying him outside. They emerge into the heat of the day, Willow taking great care to avoid looking at the slain mercenaries along the way. "Let's get him home," he says, following Jackdaw as she carries Grackle into the carriage they'd arrived in. "How did you find us, anyway?"

"The clinic hired an investigator," Raven says, settling on a bench as Willow positions himself near Grackle. "Hound. He tracked them here, and we..." She shrugs. "We were pissed."

Willow smiles tiredly. "Well, thank you for coming after us. I don't know if Grackle would've..." His voice catches, and he swallows hard. "If he'd have made it."

Raven doesn't answer, but she doesn't have to as the two stragglers clamber into the back, one holding a heavy, jingling sack. "Magpie!" she scolds.

"He's not gonna use it!" Magpie protests, before shooting a guilty look at Willow. "Er..."

"Nobody will hear of it from me," Willow says, turning back to Grackle.

Jackdaw sighs from the driver's seat and snaps the reins, urging the mules forward.

---

They stop for the night hours later, after they're well clear of the town. Jackdaw and Magpie set up a couple tents, and Raven sets to boiling some more tea for Grackle. Willow stays with him in the carriage, accepting some soup and tea from Raven once the food is ready. "Grackle?" he whispers, brushing a thumb down the side of his face. "Wake up, there's food."

Grackle makes a low whining noise, but does open his eyes after a moment. Being bundled up in the blankets has eased his chill, but he still looks very unwell. Willow helps him to sit, giving him a mug of steaming tea to drink before helping him with half a bowl of soup. "We should be home tomorrow," Willow assures him as he rearranges himself to bunch up against Willow. "We'll have a real bed, and nobody will tear you away from me like that anymore." Grackle makes a miserable noise low in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. Willow rearranges the blankets to cover the both of them and wraps an arm around Grackle's shoulders, hugging him close. His shivers abate somewhat, surrounded by the warmth.

Willow leans over, pressing a kiss to his damp forehead. "Get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up." Grackle sighs, nuzzling into Willow's shoulder and mumbling a 'goodnight' before falling into slumber.

#willow and grackle #my writing #whump #hurt/comfort #torture

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mxndwitch · 6 years

Text

Headcanon: Early life

These are my headcanons surrounding Wanda’s early years, up until Age of Ultron. Please note that this is MY version of events. You need in no way agree with me, nor adapt to my backstory, if you portray Pietro ( or anyone else relevant to Wanda’s past and affected by my headcanons ) and have a different idea. I just ask you kindly to drop into my IMs and discuss background thoughts with me, before interacting with Wanda. Please also keep in mind that my blog is MCU based and has no comic influence whatsoever. I personally have very little knowledge about the comics, so sticking with MCU canon is easier for me. If you write Magneto or anyone else involved with Wanda in the comics, please hmu for plotting before interacting. I am open to it, but it just isn’t my main verse.

EARLY CHILDHOOD & TEENAGE YEARS

Wanda and Pietro were born into a loving family. They didn't have much, but the majority of Sokovia was anything but rich, so they never felt like they lacked a thing. There was always food on the table, clothes on there bodies and love from their parents, so what else would they need? The one thing they realized quickly, however, was that Sokovia was not a safe place to be. Civil wars had plagued their home for many decades on and off, so their parents were no strangers to violence and sirens ringing through the night.

One night when Wanda and Pietro were ten years old, a mortar shell hit their apartment while they sat at the dinner table, instantly killing their parents. Another shell hit, but didn't detonate. The children were trapped for two days, scared to move, because they didn't want the shell to explode. They held onto each other and all they saw for those dreadful hours, were the words written on the deadly instrument: Stark Industries.

As orphans, the twins were moved into a state run orphanage that was entirely overcrowded and a cruel place to live in. No one actually cared about the children there. They were all being treated miserably, food was rare and they froze at night in their beds, because the heating was broken. Those months spent in the institution were probably the worst for Wanda, because she missed nothing more than the safe home they used to have and the love their parents had given them. Pietro and her were obviously close and it helped her a lot to have him by her side, but the cruelty of the teachers and staff members at the orphanage turned her into a timid, quiet and insecure little girl.

Pietro – the rebel of the two of them – one day decided that it was time to leave. He was done being slapped in the face over untidy beds and dirt on his hands during dinner, so he told his sister that they were going to run away. Wanda had mixed feelings about it, because where would they go? But she naturally followed him anyway, because they were two sides of a coin, always together and connected.

Since there was no family left to go to, they lived on the streets from that day on. It also meant, that Wanda's schooling ended at this point, something she came to regret immensely later on in life, especially when being surrounded by bright minds like Stark and Banner.

The following years were spent on the streets in a war zone. They stayed in their old apartment for a while, because the buildings damaged by bombs just remained uninhabited. No one made an effort to rebuild them, because Sokovia was far too poor for that. They moved houses a lot after their old home proved to crumble with time, being just two among many street kids in their small country. Pietro, who was always much better with people and knew how to keep them alive, was very well known among the other kids and always managed to find food and clothes for them. He knew how to work his charm and smug attitude to get what he wanted and if all else failed, he was good at stealing. Wanda didn't necessarily like that this was how they survived, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Growing up in a war zone was hard on Wanda's rather gentle nature. They saw a lot of devastation, death and tragedy in the years leading up to their affiliation with Hydra. Although they both grew numb towards it over time, watching bombs fall and people being shot on the streets with little to no emotional reaction, their anger grew with the years, towards Stark, who supplied the enemies with weapons, towards America and everyone who was trying to tear Sokovia apart.

In the end, it was Pietro's idea to join Hydra. Wanda wasn't sure about their offer and had doubts, but since she went nowhere without her brother and wasn't going to let him go into any lab without her, she followed as usual – and came to regret that fairly early on. Hydra locked them into cells and started experimenting on them, which killed all other 'test subjects', except for Wanda and Pietro. Although this was by far the most frightening, painful and terrible time they went through, they still both developed a sense of belonging when it came to their tormentors, because ultimately this was supposed to help Sokovia. They joined in the naive, idealistic belief that it would rid the country of everything evil, that they would free their people and get revenge for a lifetime of misery, so Wanda didn't really want to see that they had been deceived and none of that was going to happen. With her new powers, she knew that she no longer belonged into the world of normal people anyway, so where was she supposed to go without Hydra? She saw no other way than to follow, until the events surrounding Ultron changed everything once again.

#heacanon #hc #wanda maximoff #mcu

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fiery-knowledge · 6 years

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Rules

The Basics:

General:

- This is a SIDEBLOG. Thus, if we send anons, they will be tagged along the lines of @fiery-knowledge, @Iggymod, etc. This also means you will not see @fiery-knowledge following you, but my main (which is @fun-sized-owl).

- This blog is semi-selective (I might decline depending on circumstances and mere time/schedule)

- No Godmoding. Please don’t write my character, it takes away the point of me getting to write him.

- Mod is 25+

- This blog is 21+

- No smut with minors!

- Please do not bug me for replies, I have a life outside of RP and tumblr. I also use threadtracker, so I am aware of what I owe. :)

- I only write novella (unless it’s just silly banter threads). Please don’t send one line replies. If that’s your style, then that’s fine, but I have a very difficult time working off them. >:

- I don’t discriminate against formatting and icons (use them as you will!) but walls of text with no paragraphs can be very difficult to read and decipher (I also am severely short sighted and wear glasses at all times. Staring at a screen for a long time and reading can all start to blur, so grammar is important).

- Ignis will not get along with everyone. Please don’t take this as we don’t like you! I’m totally open to rival relationships as well!

- Mod has 10+ years of RP experience

- Vague blogging is a huge no-no. I will unfollow immediately if I see this.

- Please don’t have your muse constantly wanting and begging for attention. Ignis is a man of his duty. It also becomes over exhausting for the mod to deal with time and time again.

- I will not RP with you if you don’t have a muse bio and rules page.

- MUSE =/= MOD.

- DO. NOT. GUILT-TRIP. ME! I’m here to have fun, not feel manipulated.

- I run four different RP blogs, and sometimes I will concentrate on particular muses during a day. Just because I am active on one doesn’t mean I have the muse for a different one. Please be patient with me (mod also has ADHD, I can be very aloof and forgetful at times).

- I don’t mind if you want to turn asks into threads :) Feel free to! I ask that you PLEASE leave my previous reply on your reply so I can remember what is happening in our thread and it stops me from repeating myself ^^;

- All threads that have not been replied to within 3 weeks (21 days) will be dropped without contact unless specified (you’re on hiatus, personal reasons, you have a busy life schedule and routine you stick to, or I have interest in keeping the thread). This is basically just a good way to remove fizzled out threads from my tracker, especially when it comes to partners who are a little less organised than I am (I’m a bit of a neat freak so don’t take that personally! I’m just super finicky :’D).

- OC friendly

- Crossover friendly (so long as previously discussed and I know the universe in some detail). You can always check out my VERSES page if curious.

Headcanons:

- Please respect my headcanons. Being a canon muse, I understand you might have your own headcanons, but that does not mean I have to share them with you (and vice versa). Please do not abuse me or force your headcanons on me. This is my blog to write on and enjoy, and if you wish for your own version of Ignis, then perhaps you should make your own blog so you can write him your way. :)

- In saying that, I do not mind people sharing and reblogging my meta posts and headcanons. If you disagree, please be respectful about it, if you agree, then you’re more than welcome to add your own support. ^^

- Please be aware that my Iggy will have my own unique twist and take on him, as everyone who writes canon muses. I will continue to write him as IC as possible and how he comes to me, but if there are some things you do not like about my version, then please reconsider RPing with us.

- Please don’t come to me with “My headcanon for Ignis is…”. I cannot stress enough how rude this is. I don’t mind if you wish to discuss and plot with me and toss ideas at me, but the Ignis I write is NOT the same Ignis as you will have in your head.

Shipping:

- Ignis will work off chemistry only.

- This blog will contain NSFW themes. I am very comfortable and not shy when it comes to writing smut, but don’t worry, any smutty threads will be put under a read more for your safety (and tagged) :)

- I will NOT write any smut with underage muses or mods!

- I am not exclusive, and Iggy can and will romance others. But please understand that Ignis is a man of duty to his king first. It will take a long time for him to come to terms with any emotional feelings he might have with someone.

- My Ignis is strictly gay, so I will not be shipping with the ladies (sorry!). If you’re uncomfortable with this, then please reconsider rping with us.

- I do not do pre-established relationships (unless heavily discussed beforehand).

- Mod does ship IgNoct, but this won’t mean any automatic ships. I’d still prefer to work off chemistry. :3

- I am 100% comfortable with unreciprocated feelings (on either side), so long as it’s healthy for the mods to work with. :)

- If you’re interested in shipping, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I am much more likely to ship with mods that I am familiar with and get along well with. ^^

Triggers:

- Mod is open to most things, and you needn’t tag anything for me. While I do have certain triggers, they are generally dealt with. However, I will not write paedophilia and certain kinks. Constant depressing muses are incredibly taxing on me as someone who has dealt with depression for long term. I am not here to be someones therapist and will drop threads if this becomes an issue.

- I tag all pretty general triggers with cw: *trigger name* (ex: cw: alcohol, cw: BDSM). If you have a specific trigger, please feel free to let me know so I can tag it for you, however, I will not tag every single thing as it will simply be impossible for me to remember. I will try my best, however!

The Mod:

NAME: Owl, K, Iggymod. AGE: 25+ GENDER: Male SEXUALITY: Queer TIMEZONE: Australian E.S.T. STAR SIGN: Libra MAIN: Fun-Sized-Owl RP STATUS: Always Open LANGUAGE: English / Deutsch (IM)

- Mod does not tolerate drama, please don’t bring it here. I expect to be treated like an adult and with respect. If you have a problem, then please be civil about it.

- Have fun! <3 It’s what we’re here for! :)

- Discord is available to mutuals, however, I do not RP over IMs.

- Mod is a student and has part time work, so I am not always online.

- I apologise if any of my rules seem strict! I’m really a decent dude, I’m just being overly cautious as this is one of my first canon muses in such a long time and I want/need to be clear on my rules. I really hope they don’t deter anyone from interacting with me, but these are purely for my own safety <3 Thank you! Seriously, tho, don’t be shy, I’m generally pretty damn chill!

All art tagged as my art is mine, as is all fics tagged as my fics are mine. Do not repost, use, or claim as your own. If used as icons or something else, please credit back to this blog (will add links in later if I draw/write anything)

Other Blogs:

- I also RP in the Dragon Age community. If you’re interested in my Inquisitor, let me know. :)

Header banner by @lustralium Icons provided by myself, @dryadalismagicae , @ipromptography ,

#Rules #Ebony break || ooc

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 7 years

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Clans: Chapter 1

Relationships: Mckirk

Characters: Jim Kirk, Leonard “bones” Mccoy, Sulu, Uhora, Spock, Christopher Pike, maybe more.

warning: there will be smut.

A/N: so this is my newest fic, and im super excited about it! Its sort of a mix of lore from Supernatural, cuz i love that show, crossed with the Star Trek characters. Basically Jim goes out on a hunting trip and gets himself into more then he can handle all too quickly. its going to be so much fun! So if you want give it a read and let me know what you think!! i would also love to give a super huge thank-you to @medicatemedrmccoy since this story was inspired by her and her amazing writing! BTW if y’all havent read her new “Bite Me” fic, you should, cuz y’all are missing out! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter one:

Central Park. Dark, quiet, secluded, it was Jim's favourite place to hunt. At night he would lay in wait, taking cover in the even darker shadows of the trees, the thick coverage of the bushes, and stalk his pray in the night. This night started no different then any other. As Jim silently glided across the damp grass, not a sound under his feet, he followed a young couple thorough the park. They couldn’t have been any older then twenty-five, the dark haired girl clinging tightly to her blond boyfriend as they laughed their way down the trail. Then Jim saw him, the haggard drunk stumbling through the park, emerging from the trees across from him.

The man stumbled across the grass, cutting in front of the couple who had narrowly escaped an early death that night as Jim set his sights on a new prize. The young couple sidestepped the drunk and hurried out of the park, no longer in sight, but Jim's eyes remained on the plump man now so close to him. “Drunk,” he thought to himself, “always did taste sweeter.”

He scanned the area with one quick glance, making sure it was just him and his prey left in the park, and slowly began emerging from his hiding place in the bushes. He could smell the man, he could smell the sickly sweet dripping off of him from the booze, and he couldn’t wait to get that taste in his mouth, it was all he could focus on. Then his moment came, the man turned his back to Jim, completely unsuspecting as Jim hunched readying to strike. Before he could lunge and take what he so desperately wanted he was wrapped in several pairs of arms and a mask thrown over his face. He didn’t panic and calmly tried to remove himself from the arms encircling him, but found that for the first time in his existence his strength was useless, as every time he tried to move their hold tightened and his strength was failing him. Now he was beginning to panic, what creature had strength measurable to his, able to keep him easily at bay? Nothing he had ever encountered before.

With no thoughts on what to do, he was dragged backwards and out of the park and roughly thrown into a car. They drove for what Jim felt was ages while they held him down with ease in the back seat, still masked. When they finally stopped and pulled him from the car he could smell the water, he could smell the rusting decay of old boats, the metallic tang of gutted fish, and before he knew what was happening he was thrown into a boat and being taken away from land. Eventually they stopped, the boat docked, and Jim was once again being manhandled. He heard doors creaking open and when they passed through them Jim's senses went off the charts. Every smell was new, every corner they turned seemed to provide a new scent, and he was finding it extremely difficult to manage to even walk straight. But amongst all the smells that this place was holding around him, there was one scent in particular that Jim found himself completely attaching to. This one scent that he wanted more of, and more, it was almost addicting. In the back of his mind he registered another set of doors opening and he was pushed through, then forced to the ground and made to sit on his knees. The addicting scent had left Jim's nose, leaving him slightly impatient for more.

His mask was finally ripped from his face and Jim found himself surrounded by men, ordinary men as far as he could tell, but their smell. It was something Jim had never come across, something that had him both confused and scared, and the strength they held was enough to drop his stomach to his knees. No man had ever been able to restrain him at all, let alone as easily as these ones had.

The panic was starting to grow wild in his chest as he turned his head in all directions at the men surrounding him. While he found himself unmasked and unbound he took his chance to lunge at the closest man to him, letting out a gut wrenching snarl as he did, only to be effortlessly pushed back to his knees.

“Wait here,” the gravelly voice of the man before him spoke, “our Lordship wishes to speak with you.”

“Lordship…” he whispered to himself, then watched the man leave.

Jim remained on his knees in the room, still surrounded by the odd smelling men. He wanted so bad to just bolt, use his speed and book it out of this place, but the strength in these men was something he found himself not wanting to mess with. If what he had seen already was as effortless as it seemed, he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what they were capable of if they actually tried. Finally the double doors opened again and Jim turned slightly back to see who was coming in this time. It was a tall man, dark hair, slightly tanned skin. He entered the room flanked by two more guys, one the man from before, and the second someone new. Jim noticed that he was wearing clothes that seemed a little old fashioned for modern day New York. Compared to Jim's ripped blue jeans and worn leather jacket, this guy’s dark suit pants and black puffed out top and tie made Jim look like he was homeless. The very dapper man sauntered past Jim and sat in front of him in the chair that had been placed there by one of the men. Jim wanted to rip him open, he wanted to rip every person in this place open, no one ever dared touch him and this had already gone too far. He shifted, getting closer to the man with a snarl, but when he inhaled every muscle in Jim's body froze. That smell, it was the exact smell in the hallway that had Jim's senses in all kinds of trouble. It must be this man, he was the one who smelled so intoxicating to Jim, so much so that he had to hold his breath while in the mans presence.

The man tilted his head at Jim's now frozen form, giving him a quick once over before crossing his legs and saying, “My men tell me you're having a hard time sitting still.”

Jim quickly regained his composure and brought back his spiteful manor, though still held his breath, as he spat back, “Hard to comply when you’ve been kidnapped and held against your will.”

“Don’t worry,” the man folded his hands in his lap, “we will set you free, I just wanted to talk.”

Jim said nothing, just stared at the man, hard and cold before the man spoke again. “You’re a vampire, correct?”

Jim merely flashed his fangs, wishing that he could sink his teeth into someone right now.

The man chuckled, “Good, and in that case I have a request to ask of you.”

“First you can tell me what you are!” Jim took one long smell of the room, the mans scent still taking hold of him as he wavered on his knees, trying to gather himself, “You can’t be human, you don’t smell human, in fact… I’ve never smelled anything like you before.”

The man simply smiled, a dashing and effortless smile that had an almost instant effect on Jim. First his scent and now this. He then leaned forwards slightly and whispered, “We are werewolves.”

“You’re… wolves?” Jim all but whispered, “That’s impossible, wolves have been extinct for centuries!” “And yet here I sit,” he sat back with a smirk. “Then why, all this time, have I been told otherwise?!” The man took a breath before answering, ignoring Jim's seething glare, “Because as far as you or any other supernatural being is concerned we are extinct, wiped out. But on the contrary, we just made it seem that way. We have been here, on this island, thriving for centuries unnoticed by any other family or clan. It was the best way to keep our family safe after our quarrels with the shifters in the 1800’s”

“So you’ve been here all these years and never left the island?” the man nodded and Jim scoffed, “Well that explains your dumb ass clothes.”

One of the men to Jim's left took a step towards him and Jim immediately went on the defense, ready to attack. But the man merely held up a hand and the wolf backed off immediately. The man looked back to Jim as he continued, “I personally have never left the island, but some of the other werewolves have. The only time we leave the island is to obtain food and nothing more, that is until last week when our cover became compromised.”

“How?”

The man ignored Jim yet again, leaning fully back in his chair and resting a hand on his chin, “Go now, return to your clan and tell your blood father I wish to speak with him, tomorrow night. My men will leave you unmasked this time so you will know your way back to my house. Inform him that this is a civil meeting, I only wish to discuss some matters that have recently arisen and see if we can come to an arrangement that will suit both of our families.” “What matters?” Jim looked around the room confused, “What are you talking about?! The man waved his hand at the wolves again and this time two came to grab each of Jim's arms, hoisting him off the ground and to his feet. The man spoke to the two men now holding Jim, “Take him back to the docks and let him go, and hopefully,” he shifted his eyes to make contact with Jim’s, “I will see you tomorrow.”

Before Jim could say anything else he was being dragged, yet again, through the hallways of the house. He didn’t even bother to struggle this time, it was clearly useless. Instead he thought about everything that had happened to him that night. Wolves, actual wolves had kidnapped him, creatures he had been told, since his turning, were extinct. As far as Jim knew his family was the only supernatural clan in New York, and this opened up a whole new playing field, one in which he wasn’t sure where he stood and that scared him. For the first time in his vampire life he was actually scared.

Quicker then his first time around Jim found himself at the docks. The wolves stopped their boat and tied off, two of them stepping onto the docks then turning back to Jim. “You’re free to go,” one of them said, and faster then they could blink an eye Jim was gone.

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A/N: ok, so just a short little intro...what does everyone think? more action to come i promise lol and if anyone wants to be tagged for future updates just let me know :)

Tags: @bi-e-ne

and @medicatemedrmccoy i already tagged you at the top of this one, but i didn’t know if you wanted to be tagged for the rest, so if not just let me know ;P

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spinosaurusdex · 6 years

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Willow and Grackle: Road Trip (Bad)

Read on AO3

Grackle feels really happy for the first time.

"I offered civility," the speaker says with a shrug. "Get 'im."

"Not mine," Grackle assures him, shedding his jacket so he won't get blood on Willow when the physician runs over to hug him tight. "Got attacked."

---

He hears footsteps behind them; one pair, then two, then four, all very quick. Heart pounding, he grips Willow's hand tightly and whispers, "Run."

Someone grabs at him from behind, but he yanks away before they get a chance to close their hand. He finds Willow again and pulls him close, blindly sidestepping. "Willow??"

"Don't hurt him!" Grackle says desperately, trying to escape his captor. "Don't!"

"Right," the voice says. "Let's go, lads." Someone clubs Grackle on the back of his head. He staggers forward, what's left of his vision turning black.

---

Grackle bits back panic. He's been restrained before. He can handle it. He--

A hand touching his head startles him and he jerks away. "Grackle, it's me," Willow whispers, voice muffled by the cloth. "I-I saw you moving."

---

"Someone's definitely noticed us missing by now," Willow says after he's settled Grackle up against his side. "I bet we'll be rescued before long."

He eventually falls into an uneasy sleep, wishing he could wrap his arms around Willow just for the night.

---

He's alone. He doesn't know for how long.

He eventually relents, though guilt eats at him more than hunger would have. Once the tray is clear of crumbs, he tries to calm himself down enough to assess the situation.

The room is barren. The only furniture is the mattress and a chamber pot. The door is locked from the outside, and there are no windows. The walls are a solid stucco, and the stone is floor. The only tools at their disposal are some scratchy rope, a hood, a tray, and two empty ceramic cups. His daggers and other weapons and tools were taken away, probably before they even put him on the wagon.

He's tired. He'll try to come up with an escape plan tomorrow. "Do you wanna try to sleep?" Willow asks. "We can push the mattress into a corner if you'd feel safer..."

---

"That's what the informant said," a second voice answers. "And maybe they're not all this weak. Just disappointing that this is the one he wants."

Some time later, he's dimly aware of two people speaking. "I'm done with him," the merchant says. "Get him out of my sight."

---

He shoves all thought aside and tries to fall back asleep.

---

"Excuse me, can I have some bandages?" Willow asks, pounding on the door. "I need to take care of him!" Silence answers; Willow pounds on it again. "Is anyone even there?"

The door pounds back, practically slamming. "Shut up in there," a muffled voice answers. "Just deal with it." Willow stands in silence for a moment, then returns to Grackle's side.

"I can do this anyway," Willow says. "I just need your shirt."

Willow helps him settle down onto the mattress. "You try and sleep. I'll wake you when they bring food, alright?" Grackle nods, closing his eyes and shifting to rest his head in Willow's lap.

Still feeling a bit miserable, Grackle, reaches up to hold Willow's hand. "Promise?"

Willow lifts the hand, pressing his lips to the back of it. "I promise."

---

There's no answer.

Ignoring the prickle of tears in his eyes, Willow returns to Grackle's side.

---

"--lieve how pathetic you are," he hears the merchant spit. "No fight in you anymore. I should just go ahead and kill that sweetheart of yours and turn you over for some proper justice."

Someone picks him up. He smells leather and blood, and instantly leans into his savior's muscular arms. "Willow," he croaks. "Down the... hall..."

Willow is at his side already, cupping his face in his hands. "I'm here," he says. "They got me first." Grackle relaxes, eyes sliding shut.

"Raven," she answers. "How can I help?"

Willow smiles. "Raven. If they find the herbs I need, can you make a tea of them?" She nods. "Thank you."

"The clinic hired an investigator," Raven says, settling on a bench as Willow positions himself near Grackle. "Hound. He tracked them here, and we..." She shrugs. "We were pissed."

Willow smiles tiredly. "Well, thank you for coming after us. I don't know if Grackle would've..." His voice catches, and he swallows hard. "If he'd have made it."

Raven doesn't answer, but she doesn't have to as the two stragglers clamber into the back, one holding a heavy, jingling sack. "Magpie!" she scolds.

"He's not gonna use it!" Magpie protests, before shooting a guilty look at Willow. "Er..."

"Nobody will hear of it from me," Willow says, turning back to Grackle.

Jackdaw sighs from the driver's seat and snaps the reins, urging the mules forward.

---

#willow and grackle #whump #hurt/comfort #long post

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peterssparkourr · 7 years

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red carpet | t. holland

word count: 2056 warnings: nada :-) note: i just had this idea pop up and well i think its cute and i hope you think so too :> anywayy… again, im not much of a writer so pls pardon my writing :’)

—————————

You felt your heart beating out of your chest. Your palms started to sweat. This was it. The premiere that’s been eating you up this past week. You’re so nervous, your tongue’s tied already, you haven’t even spoken a single word ever since you left your hotel. Of course, you’ve done movies before. You’ve won and been nominated for numerous awards already, you’ve worked with Scorsese, Nolan, Spielberg—all of them admiring your raw and genuine talent. You were one of the top A-List Actresses in Hollywood.

But this… this was entirely different.

Yes, you knew this was a Marvel movie, Captain America: Civil War. Yes, you knew you only had a supporting role in this movie and that this shouldn’t be that much of a big deal to you. So why were you so conscious of what you were wearing? You usually spend an hour tops to prepare for a premiere, but this time you took ages to get ready.

You wanted to look good. You wanted to look your best without trying too hard.

Hmph. You’re not doing all that for the paparazzi, that’s for sure.

You stepped out of your limo and instantly, the bright flashes of cameras blind you, the screams of fans deafen you, the amount of big time movie stars you’ve worked alongside with numbed you. You composed yourself and took a breather, then started walking down the red carpet, with your white lace gown trailing behind you, as if you were royalty. You loved your dress a lot, you gotta hand it to your designer for the amazing design. It was a shame that you had to go alone though.

You wanted a certain someone to be your date, but you guess that someone didn’t see you that way.

You gracefully pause in front of the crowd to pose for some pictures. Later on, you went to the fans and signed some autographs and took selfies. Your once poised and elegant manner banished as soon as you started to have some fun making the most ridiculous faces for the pictures you were taking with your fans. You loved them. You wouldn’t be anywhere if it weren’t for them.

A few more minutes spending quality time with your beloved fans, you were ushered away to have a few interviews.

“Y/N!” The fifth interviewer of the night beamed, “How does it feel to be on a red carpet yet again?”

You laugh and smile, “It feels great. I love the energy these Marvel fans are giving out. It makes me wanna show up in my costume rather than this dress.”

“Well, won’t they appreciate that.” The interviewer replied, “Your dress is absolutely stunning, though! You look really, really, really pretty.”

You reply with a flattered smile, but before you could even verbally reply, someone cleared their throat behind you, disrupting the conversation.

“I think the proper term for her is gorgeous.”

You instantly felt your knees go weak as soon as you heard that heart-melting British accent.

“Tom Holland! What a great surprise!” The interviewer exclaimed as she saw the Brit behind you.

He hugged you from behind, his arms snaking around your waist, “Hey, love.” Tom winked at you quickly that the interviewer didn’t notice.

“Hey there, Spidey.” You casually punch his arm and pinch his cheek.

Right beside you right now was the reason you felt all those things beforehand. You couldn’t deny it any longer… Tom Holland made you nervous.

The interviewer once again spoke up, “Tom, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. It’s really fun to be here.” He flashed his signature smile.

“We were just discussing Y/N’s outfit for tonight. Any comments?” The interviewer wiggled her eyebrows.

You felt my your cheeks flush red again.

“I’m speechless actually. She looks so good that the words haven’t been invented yet.” His cheeky and adorable smile widened with every word that came out of his mouth, to which you blushed intensely at.

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” The interviewer giggled.

You laugh along with Tom and feel his hand rest on your shoulder.

“Okay, real topic guys. You two have been spotted out together so many times, your chemistry on-screen and off-screen is just off the charts, you’re always gushing about each other in interviews. So everyone on this planet wants to know…” The interviewer said, “Are you two seeing each other?”

You didn’t even think of what you were going to say, you just blurted it out… “We’re just really good friends.”

Mental facepalm.

You felt Tom’s chocolate brown eyes on you.

“I mean… uh…” You went off track as you tried to fix what you said.

You were at a loss for words. You didn’t really know how follow that up. It was true that you and Tom were friends. How can you not? You two instantly clicked right away from the moment you both met in the first script reading of the movie. You’ve always thought he was cute. It came to the point that that little innocent admiration for your co-star became… something more. There were so many times you wished you could just tell him how you felt, but you just keep chickening out. Scared. Fearing that he won’t feel the same way.

You loved the fact that Tom is always so open and comfortable around you. He’s always there for you when you need help in the most little things. If you need pads, he won’t hesitate to go the store and buy you pads—with wings. If you need someone to have a movie marathon with you, he’ll come over any time of the night with the complete collection of your favorite Disney movies. If you need someone to talk to, he’s there.

You can’t help yourself. You were falling for him, each time he smiles at you. The more you denied it, the feeling grew and grew until you can no longer ignore it. You’ve always wanted to see the things he does for you as acts of romantic and courtly love, but you know in your heart that he did those things because he sees you as a mere sister. It hurt a lot. You’re still wrapping your mind around that little heartbreaking thought.

So you came back to your reply. We’re just really good friends… Your own voice echoed through your head.

Really good friends.

Friends. You thought. That’s what Tom and I will be for the rest of our lives. Just. Friends.

What can you do, though? You’re young and stupid. Love only makes things worse for you.

“I think what Y/N meant was… we have a really strong bond. We wouldn’t want anything to interfere with that. We have our ups and downs. We may have our preferences and our differences, but I know this for sure…” He turned his head to glance at me, “We’re really good together.”

You felt butterflies flutter in your stomach after hearing his answer.

The interviewer smiled and closed up the interview, “Thank you, Tom! Thank you, Y/N!”

After bidding your goodbyes, Tom and you headed back out to the red carpet, posing for more pictures alongside each other. You were 4 or 5 feet away from him as the camera flashes come one after another. Again, you feel yourself drifting away. The blinding flashes, the deafening screams, the numbness… it all came back from the moment you no longer felt Tom’s presence within your reach.

Though, you still keep a plastered smile on your face. You don’t want anyone thinking there was something bothering you. It was easy to cover it up anyway. You were an actress after all.

“Hey, Y/N…” Tom’s voice surprised you, causing you to slightly wince at his touch when he put his hand on your back, “Are you alright? You seem flustered.”

“I’m fine. What are you talking about?” You lie.

Tom then furrowed his brows. Then without a word, he pulled you to the side.

“Y/N, do you honestly think I don’t know when you’re feeling a bit off?” He crossed his arms on his chest.

Of course.

Of course!

Of course, he could see right through you. He knows you more than you probably know yourself. It was silly thinking you could convince him otherwise.

“Tom, just drop it, okay? I’m fine…” You let it out with a bit of frustration.

He sighed. He already knew what this was about.

“Y/N…” He took a step closer to you, making your heart race a thousand times faster, as if the beat earlier wasn’t fast enough, “Just so you know… I think you look beyond beautiful tonight.”

You look up at him, red bloomed on your face. You tried to hide it, but you realized it was pointless.

“You don’t look bad yourself, Holland.” You replied with a small and shy smile.

He chuckled softly and took your hand in his, “I meant to tell you this a week ago but I just kept on letting fear come first. I was scared.” He held his head down in embarrassment, “But I’m tired of running away from this. I’m done.” He looked into your eyes and you saw how nervous he was. It was even making you nervous as well. You were both trying to gather all the courage you can suck up.

“Now, let me try this again—for real this time.” Tom laughed half-heartedly, “Forgive me if I sound a bit too cheesy, but Y/N Y/L/N, from the very moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew I found the girl who would finally make me fall down to my knees just thinking about her smile, her eyes, her laugh, her cute rosy cheeks… Y/N, you’ve bewitched me. You make me feel the tingly feeling in my stomach every time I’m around you, and it’s bloody annoying. Look, what I’m trying to say here, without sounding like a complete fool, is that I have strong feelings for you, Y/N. I.. I like you. I really like you.”

You widened your eyes and almost choked on thin air, “Are you… are you serious?”

He chuckled, his dimples showing and his eyes looking cute as ever, “I confess my feelings in the monologue I’ve been practicing for weeks, and that’s the response I get?”

You laugh and blush furiously, “Tom, I… I’ve been waiting for you to say that for the longest time.” You wasted no time and engulfed him in a hug, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“Does this mean you like me too?” He wondered like an innocent puppy.

You reply with a giggle, “Yes, you moron. I feel the same way.”

His smile reached up to his eyes when he heard you say that. He was so happy. So were you. You looped your arm into his as you both walked back onto the red carpet, posing for more pictures, but this time, it was different.

People started to screaming louder as soon as they saw Tom’s hand intertwine with yours and your arm hug his waist. You two were smiling so wide, knowing that you were with the one person you’ve been wanting to be with ever since. You still can’t believe you arrived to this premiere empty handed, nervous and worried. The camera flashes once again, came one after another. The screams of the fans, louder and louder. You noticed the rest of the cast including Chris Evans and RDJ on the side, wolf whistling and applauding.

Damn, did everyone want you two together?

When things seemed they couldn’t get any better, Tom swiftly pulled you closer to him. Before you could question his sudden actions, he cupped your cheek, leaned in and gave you a sweet kiss on the lips.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for the longest time too.” He cheekily smiled as he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

You laughed and he laughed. Not minding the blood curdling fangirl and fanboy screams the fans were yelling out. You could only imagine the amount of tweets and tumblr posts you’ll be tagged in later on.

#tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker #spiderman #fluffy #fluff #drabble #i was bored okay #i have so much time on my hands wtf o K

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