#and finally a single fall leaf. for color :)
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xayasmrxsoftlyx · 10 months ago
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Imagine a Butterfly Alien
Imagine...
you're a human whose been farming and growing plants for as long as you could walk. You like the birds, the bees, the butterflies, even all the bugs that others thought were gross and useless...worthless, yet you've found appreciation of them.
you're also not ignorant to the fact that aliens have made their presence and cultures known to your world for a little while now. You've yet to meet any in your tiny farming village, but you're sure they can't be too different from any other humanoids you've met before. To say you're a black sheep to your village in those statements would be a massive understatement.
That's not to say you're surrounded by bigoted, closeminded individuals- on the contrary, your little village is eager anticipating meeting these new friends no matter what variety they are. So excited and willing to accommodate.
So, you're more than a little surprised when one day you hear a loud crash on your farm and go running over to investigate only to see a massive Butterfly Alien having torn his wing and crash landed your on your front lawn. Right near your butterfly bush, you reflect later. In the moment, you're sheepish to admit, you're spending the time panicking and crying.
At first, the Butterfly Alien is dazed and equally confused, interesting distended eyes seemingly peering around. You're sat next to him, face flushed and teary eyes, voice high pitched and fast paced; he's in pain and immediately notices tear within the upper quarter of his right wing. You can only assume he starts to suffer shock as he begins to violently tremble. At this point, you're more than upset at yourself for not going to at least one Culture seminar your village held to ease the welcome and culture shock of/for your future visitors.
You're frantic and nearly as trembly as the Butterfly Man you attempt to touch Him, but you flutter your hands around (adorably) unsure if you'd stress or hurt Him further. Tears finally begin to fall as the anxiety of it crests- the Alien flutters His wings quickly, almost desperately, as if gauging them, testing their abilities. You gasp loudly as the tear rips the top quarter of His wing off right in front of your eyes. You begin to hyperventilate as the Man begins to tremor again, whole body shaking like a leaf caught in the wind.
You can't quite see what happens next, eyes blurring your vision with thick tears causing you to wipe at them with the back of your hand. It's as you're doing that when the Butterfly Man moves. It's quicker than you imagine He could move before He's up; and one second later He's flying again.
He doesn't even appear to turn back as he glides up into the sky, as if He'd never crashed at all. You're left there blubbering, blurring vision flicking between the sky and the dinner plate sized wing remnant left in your yard.
You can't understand why, but when the breeze starts to pick up, you snatch the piece of his wing with your shaky hands and hurry inside feeling as if you'd seen a ghost. Unsure where to go with it or what to do with it, you find the biggest frame that you had that could fit it and frame it. It's the only way you can think of no harm coming to it further. It's beautiful, too, soft but vibrant colors popping against the whites of your wall as you hold it up in the sun.
You look into attending some of your village's culture seminars a few hours later after your heart stopped racing and mind spinning with everything that had happened.
Imagine as you're walking into town to see when the next Culture seminar is and you're hearing from whispered shadows as you're walking into town "did you see?" "did you hear?!" "They finally came!" "We need to throw a Welcome Festival!" "I wanna make them food to welcome them!" "I-I heard they're all...single..."
You fluster again when you reach the center of your village square, there's several insectoid aliens that have migrated to your village- drawn by its rich agriculture and farming lifestyles. There's only one Butterfly Alien, though, it's here, and only here, finally here that you get a good look at the person who literally crashed into you life.
He's not just beautiful, all colorful wings and lean muscles and graceful movements, He's handsome, too. He's got these masculine humanoid traits that add a rugged edge to His beauty- He's got a distinct jawline and defined cheekbones and whilst nothing about Him is particularly sharp or overtly (humanly) masculine, there's a defined demeanor to Him that pulls in favor of His handsomeness. The tear in His wing helps strongly to add that ruggedness.
It's hard to tell with eyes like his if you've met his gaze but with his posture shift and almost sheepish expression coming over him you feel as if you may have. You flush, flustered by his attention even so indirectly. The head of your village, MeeMaw, eagerly invites the couple of them into her space and once they're out of sight the whispers turn to full on chatter.
You huff, trying to push past how out of whack everything's become in one day and now you suppose you have a dual purpose for lingering by MeeMaw's quarters. You'll definitely need those Culture Seminars after today, and you suppose while you're at it....You could try and give the Butterfly Man His wing back to Him....You don't know if He needs it, but at the very least you'd have an excuse to talk to Him. You just hope you don't get shy on Him...you certainly didn't make the "best" first impression
(Little do you know, He thought it was so cute. So panicked over Him without knowing Him. So worried over Him without knowing He'd been there to peep on you after seeing just how cute you were tending to your farm
(Imagine He's just so grateful and thinks you're the cutest, sweetest little thing to save His wing for Him. Were you going to go looking for Him like some sweet and brave Knight in shining armor? How adorable!
(So sweet, little human, so cute! Gosh, you must be His! You must be made for Him! Why else would you have been so scared for him? You wouldn't save just anyone's amputated limb, would you? You must...love Him!
(You have no idea, either, until much later anyway, just how rare He is. Insectoid Aliens aren't the most intergalactically social so they're pretty rare off their own planets- Butterfly Aliens especially so, even more so. Mostly due to the fragility of their wings and inability to regrow. If someone wanted, it would be so easy to destroy or even rip His wings from Him, yet you wept over Him. Many would steal Him away, cage Him forever; yet you let Him free. Let Him keep His freedom. You're truly one of a kind. Just as He is.
(That must mean He's right- you are made for each other. He's glad you think He's handsome, He'd fight you for your love even if you were to think He isn't.
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natalievoncatte · 9 months ago
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1. Leaves
Lena was, in all honesty, having the time of her life. Since they’d arrived here, she had finally relaxed. Really relaxed. Lex was gone. Capital-G Gone. The last of Cadmus had been mopped up. The Conpany was no longer a problem- L-Corp was being sold off, from entire divisions down to sales of old office chairs. The Estate and nine-tenths of the family holdings were all being sold off, and the money quietly funneled into a holding company. Sam Arias would manage Lena’s wealth.
Lena had nothing to do anymore, and it was glorious. She’d done what she’d never done in her entire life: rest. She ate when was hungry, slept when she was tired. She stayed up late finishing a thriller novel she’d grabbed off one of Kara’s tables and slept it off the following day. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, so one day she said, “Let’s go watch the leaves change.”
“Not much of that in National City,” Kara had said, not looking up from her laptop.
Lena was flipping channels when she made the suggestion, another pedestrian activity that had been too far beneath her to ever indulge during her CEO days.
“I’m serious,” said Lena. “I’ll rent us a cabin, book a flight, and we’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Vermont, or maybe New Hampshire.”
Kara looked up. “I could just fly us.”
“Short distances only,” said Lena.
Kara weighed it for a moment. She looked at Lena for a drawn out instant, eyes darting this way and that. Lena knew she had a deadline; she had become privy to the details of Kara’s life ever since she started couch surfing at Kara’s place after dumping her chic penthouse on some petroleum heir from the Emirates.
She had been “crashing” at Kara’s place for three months and had her own key, but they weren’t talking about it. Lena had remained on the couch, falling asleep to YouTube videos of molten lava and cat purring sounds, while Kara puttered around the house.
There were moments of tension. Pauses during shared meals. Moments when they pressed closed on sofa, times when Kara got up to go to bed and Lena felt this yearning to follow that she never quite obeyed.
Kara was thinking. Hard.
“Rent a cabin?”
“Yeah, someplace remote. So you can take a break. You’ve been working harder than ever, Darling. It almost feels like you’re avoiding me.”
Kara swallowed. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll fly. The regular way.”
They did, arriving in Maine less than a day later. Lena rented a Land Rover (because they were on an Adventure) and did all the driving, three hours from the airport to the cabin.
Kara rode in silence, though Lena heard her gasp.
The trees were beautiful. They were alive with color, as if an impressionist master had made the world a canvas and run riot. It was more than a mass of reds and yellows and oranges. It was astonishing.
It was dark when they arrived at the cabin. Lena had chosen one with two bedrooms, though she hesitated when she did. It had a full kitchen with a gas stove and all the amenities but also a fire pit and picnic table and gazebo, and overlooked a private swath of a small lake. It was like something out of a Bob Ross painting.
They were both tired from the flight, or at least Lena was, and turned in right away. When she rose the next day, she cheerily told her cabin-mate she was headed into town to get some supplies.
Kara went out to chop wood. Lena, of course, watched a few swings before leaving. Kara didn’t really need an axe but Lena didn’t care; she was preoccupied watching the muscles of Kara’s shoulders and back as she swung the splitting maul.
Lena got back before noon and carried the groceries inside, enough for her to use the fancy kitchen to prepare a mighty feast for her companion.
She didn’t hear the sobs until she had most of it put away. Lena bolted to the back door and stopped.
Kara was sitting on the picnic table, feet resting on the long board that acted as a seat. She was holding a single golden leaf on her hand, studying it and sobbing softly to herself.
“Kara?”
She looked up, soft blue eyes wet with tears. Lena felt a wave of grief but also panic, rushing to the table.
“Kara, what’s wrong?”
“I,” Kara started. “Lena, I’m scared.”
Lena swallowed hard. “Why?”
Kara looked at the leaf. “Another year past. The leaves turn colors and fall, school starts, things change.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Alex is married now. They’ve got a kid to raise. Nia and Brainy will probably get married soon. We hadn’t had a game night in two months.”
Lena swallowed. Kara was right. When Lena had first joined, then rejoined, this wonderful found family had been aggressively social, and now they forgot to text as often as not. They all spent more time at home or at their real jobs than at the Tower. The world had just started moving on. Kara didn’t even wear the cape every day anymore.
“I know,” said Lena, her voice thick. “But you’ve got me.”
Lena felt her pulse start to race. Kara had been so distant, she couldn’t help wonder if she was enough. If boring, retired Lena wasn’t enough. Oh God, what if Kara was thinking about going to Argo? Or the future?
“Not forever,” said Kara, her voice cracking like glass. She let the leaf drop from her fingers. “Eventually you’ll go. All of you. Brainy, Nia, Alex, Clark if he doesn’t come back from Argo. You.”
“Oh,” Lena said, softly. “Oh, Kara.”
“I think I might be immortal,” Kara whispered. “I don’t feel any aches or pains. Nothing about me changes. I don’t forget things like people do. My body just keeps repairing itself and it never makes any mistakes. What if I’m just like this forever? Or even a thousand years? What if everyone is gone and their kids are gone and no one knows who I am anymore?!” she was frantic now, the words coming too fast.
Lena reached out, tentatively. She put her hands on Kara’s shoulders and pulled herself in, wrapping her best friend in a hug.
Birds chirped, the waters of the lake made soft glug-glugs, and all around them was the soft tapping sound of the leaves, already letting go.
“I won’t leave you,” Lena whispered. “Kara, I won’t. If I have to live forever I will. I’ll find a way. Tech, magic, fifth dimensional imps. I’ll find a way.”
Kara sighed, arms firmly around her.
“Do you need space?” Lena asked. “I could leave you alone for a bit. Look for a place when we get back, so I’m not on the couch all the time.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” Kara blurted, almost cutting her off. “I know I’ve been distant, it’s just… I keep looking at you and thinking about all the time I’ve lost and all the mistakes I’ve made and how I’ll regret it forever. We have so little time and I’m so scared I’ll lose you.”
Lena pulled back to look at her. “We have a long time to make more memories. As many as we can.”
“I’ll lose you too,” said Kara. “I know you want more. A family, a partner. You’ll start to have less time for me. You’ll all just fall away and I’ll be stuck here alone.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“How can you say that?”
Kara started to pull away. Lena stopped her with a tug on her arms. It stunned her, sometimes, how she could overpower a god with her tiny human hands. How she could stun the other whirlwind or a touch.
“Kara,” said Lena. “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”
“Me?” Kara squeaked.
Lena cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you at the wedding. I mean, I didn’t dress like that and go stag for the hell of it. I just lost my nerve and you seemed so overwhelmed.”
Kara blinked a few times.
“You want me?” said Kara.
Lena felt a cold rush of terror. She’d just blurted it out, artlessly, unplanned.
“Like want me want me? Like kissing want me?”
Lena licked her lips. “Yes. I’d like to kiss you right now, if you let me.”
Kara settled back into the table, leaning forward. Lena leaned in, pushing her back slightly, moving her hands from shoulders to hips, scoring the way Kara tensed and trembled. She was hardly inexperienced, Lena knew, but something about this felt like a first kiss, even for her. It tasted like one, too, down to the quivery way their lips met.
Kissing quickly became something more. Lena didn’t know if she was pulling or Kara pushing. It didn’t much matter; the path led to the bed in Kara’s room, marked by a trail of shed clothing.
Years of anticipation overwhelmed them both; dinner was forgotten, and they didn’t even emerge until the next day.
It was in the morning sun, the light turning Kara’s skin gold, that Lena saw it. Twisted within one of the curling locks of hair, splayed around Kara’s head on the pillow, was a faintly visible thread of purest silver, chased through the gold like an engraver’s masterpiece. Lena couldn’t help but twirl the errant strands around her finger.
As Kara slept, she looked up through the window and watched the wind as it caressed the leaves.
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orellazalonia · 2 months ago
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Tiny Caretaker
Summary: Steve returns from a mission injured and emotionally drained. You wordlessly comfort him using small, nature-based gifts. Later, Bucky arrives, sees what you've done, and is deeply moved. Both men sit in reverent silence, realizing just how much your small, silent love means to them. (Steve Rogers x Fairy!Reader x Bucky Barnes)
Word Count: 1.1k+
A/N: Thank you to @cherryblossomfairyy for the request/suggestion. Enjoy and Happy reading!
Main Masterlist | Tiny Trouble Masterlist
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The door clicked open just past midnight.
You were already awake. You had been for hours, sitting curled in the tiny hammock you’d woven between two books on the shelf. The wind had felt strange tonight, sharp at the edges. A whispering kind of sharp. You’d known something was wrong before you heard the heavy steps in the hallway, slower than usual.
When Steve stepped inside, you didn’t rush to him.
You just watched. Observed.
He dropped his shield near the couch with a soft clatter. He was still in the dark navy suit, but it was torn in places. There was a long gash across the side and bruises blooming along his jaw. His shoulders were slumped in that way they only were when something had gone wrong. Not physically wrong, emotionally wrong.
He sighed as he lowered himself to the couch, hand pressed against his side. You saw red, dull and drying, on his gloves. You fluttered down silently, your wings barely whispering in the dim light.
He didn’t notice you right away. He had his eyes closed, breathing through the pain and focusing inward, as humans often did when they didn’t want to feel anything at all.
You stood on the coffee table in front of him, arms folded, brow creased. You didn’t like this. He was your Tree. And trees weren’t supposed to fall.
You disappeared for a moment, darting across the shelves, climbing inside the drawer where you kept your special collection. By the time you returned, Steve had opened his eyes.
He didn’t say anything though. He didn’t need to. Because there you were, wings fluttering tiredly, arms full of your treasures for him.
You placed a smooth, round stone beside his knee. The one you’d kept for three seasons because it felt like sunshine when you touched it. You set down your best leaf, soft and silvery on one side. Good for calming dreams. You also had a tiny pot they had given to you before, filled halfway with real honey. The kind you only used for injuries. You unscrewed the top with some effort and nudged it toward his hand.
Then finally… your favorite button.
It was a pale blue one, the color of the sky on warm days. You’d once told Bucky it was “lucky” with a proud little tap and a wide grin. It had always stayed in your drawer, wrapped in a bit of thread like a tiny treasure.
Now it sat beside Steve, on the curve of his palm. His fingers closed around it slowly.
“Is this for me?” He asked, voice rough and tired.
You nodded then sat cross-legged on his knee, your glow dim but steady. You didn’t speak much. You didn’t need to. Your wings brushed his arm gently, a small touch acting as a reminder that you were here, that he wasn’t alone.
Steve exhaled softly and leaned his head back against the couch, hand still curled around the button, the honey pot beside him.
“…Thank you,” He whispered.
You didn’t answer, but you stayed. And your silent company said the rest.
The sun hadn’t risen yet when Bucky pushed open the door.
The team was back, the worst was over, and he’d spent the last few hours finishing debriefs, patching his own wounds, and pacing. He hadn’t seen Steve since the quinjet landed.
So when he opened the door, he froze in the doorway.
Steve was half-asleep on the couch, sprawled awkwardly with one hand clutched loosely over his ribs and the other cupped around a single, small, pale blue button.
His eyes flickered open at the sound. “Hey.”
“You look like hell,” Bucky said, walking in, voice softer than his words.
Steve cracked a tired smile. “Felt worse.”
That’s when Bucky spotted you curled on Steve’s shoulder like a fallen petal, wings tucked tightly around yourself, and your arms holding a bit of thread that had come loose from your pouch. Your cheek was pressed to the fabric of his torn uniform, your tiny form rising and falling with his every breath.
Bucky stopped in his tracks.
There was a leaf on the armrest, a smooth stone by Steve’s knee, and a small pot of honey with the lid off, just barely untouched. And that button… your button.
Bucky knew that one. You’d once protected it from the vacuum like it was sacred. He had joked about it being your “dragon hoard,” and you had hissed at him like an angry kitten, then patted the button gently and flown off in a huff. You’d even growled at Sam once for trying to borrow it.
He stepped closer, crouching beside the couch, eyes flicking between the little offerings and the soft expression on Steve’s face.
“She left them for me,” Steve murmured. “Didn’t say anything. Just… stayed.”
Bucky stared at you for a long moment as his features softened. He reached out, and with one gloved finger, gently fixed the corner of the blanket that had fallen from Steve’s chest, then carefully draped a second piece over your tiny form, shielding you from the draft.
“She always knows,” He muttered, more to himself than Steve.
Steve let out a breath. “She gave me the button.”
Bucky blinked. “The button?”
Steve nodded, voice quiet. “Think I was supposed to hold it till I felt better.”
Bucky huffed, half-sigh, half-laugh. “She gave me a sunflower petal when I had a panic attack last month.”
“She didn’t say much, but… it worked,” Steve said, looking down at you again. “I feel better.”
Bucky’s gaze lingered on you curled up. You were so still, wings trembling slightly in your sleep. “You think she knows we’d burn the world down for her?”
Steve chuckled weakly. “She probably does.”
They both sat in silence for a while, watching the way your wings fluttered in your dreams. Then Bucky, very gently, reached into his pocket. He pulled out a dried dandelion puff, impossibly intact, and set it beside the button in Steve’s palm.
“She gave me this,” He spoke softly. “When you went dark on a mission last month. Said it was for… wishing.”
Steve looked at him.
“You keep it,” Bucky added. “Until she asks for it back.”
Steve nodded. His fingers curled around the puff and the button, chest rising with something deep and quiet. You shifted, still asleep, and leaned closer into the warmth of Steve’s neck.
Bucky turned to go fetch the Medkit before pausing at the door.
“Get some rest, Stevie,” He said over his shoulder. “She’s got you.”
Steve looked down at the little fairy asleep against his collarbone, then back at Bucky.
“So do you.”
Bucky didn’t say anything, just dipped his head in a small nod before slipping into the hallway, the door shutting quietly behind him.
Steve leaned back, hand still cradling the button and the wish, and let his eyes fall closed again. This time, he slept without pain because you were there.
And somehow… that made all the difference.
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lizzy06 · 11 months ago
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Tenya Iida x Reader Fic Recs!! (Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)
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My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist
An Unintended Match ✨by dairyair (fake dating, stranger to friends to lovers, fluff, eventual smut)“I have been informed that you have foresworn your life of crime in order to prevent loss of life. That is admirable, and may I be the first to congratulate you on turning over a new leaf.” [COMPLETED]
The Prince ✨ by ScatteredScribbles/ @bnhascribbles (oneshot, prince! Iida, tutor! reader, royalty au)You should’ve expected that this conversation would happen eventually. You can’t pretend you hadn’t noticed the way Iida stole glances at you over the edge of his book when he thought you weren’t watching. The worst part was…you’d caught yourself doing those very same things.[COMPLETED]
Songfic: Iida Tenya x F!Reader - Crave You  ✨by @flannel-cladpika (oneshot, fluff, slight angst)It was official. You were permanently friend-zoned by the one person you actually had feelings for.[COMPLETED]
BNHA Soulmate AU Week Day 3: Blue Eyes by @writing-freak (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff)you are obsessed with the color blue, and spend your life dedicated to the things the beautiful color produces. only problem? you’ve never been able to see it.[COMPLETED]
This piece of you by @sleeplessdreamer14 (oneshot, fluff) you left your jacket in iida’s room.[COMPLETED]
The Baby Curse ✨ by Bonkers4hatter(oneshot, fluff, pregnancy, chubby! insecure reader, slight angst)With a family filled with boys, Iida dubbed it "the baby curse". You always thought it was a bit ridiculous, but when you start to consider kids of your own, Iida's little "curse" crosses your mind.[COMPLETED]
The Class Representatives ✨ by mooncandi(oneshot, fluff, humor)5 times your classmates could've found out about your relationship, the one time they did.[COMPLETED]
Her [ Iida Tenya + Reader ] by iiAnon (oneshot, fluff, angst)Tenya is pining hard for reader. Sweet and fluffy! <3[COMPLETED]
Love Letters  ✨by lyrical_panic(oneshot, fluff, love letters, secret admirer) Tenya Iida has an ordinary, routine life. There's nothing out of the ordinary, ever. Until one day when a anonymous love letter finds its way underneath his door, and his whole world turns upside down. Determined to find the author, he conducts a little investigation, leading him to none other but you.[COMPLETED]
Study Date ✨ by levithestripper(oneshot, fluff, crushes, humor)Tenya has always been quite confident in himself and in his appearance, not normally being overly nervous around people or shy. Yet you were different. If he wasn’t constantly fixing his hair before, he sure is now.[COMPLETED]
Birthday Kisses by goldxnapplxs (oneshot, fluff)Using a quirk that allows you to phase through objects, you sneak into the boys dorm to wish your favorite class representative a happy birthday.[COMPLETED]
Providentia by SongsOfAdelaide (oneshot, soulmates au, childhood friends to lovers) meaning The ability to see something in advance; foresight, foreknowledge./Precaution, providence, forethought.[COMPLETED]
i adore you. by TheBestParkBenchYouveEverSeen (oneshot, fluff, hurt/comfort)you have a BAAADDD migraine, iida trys to help.[COMPLETED]
Graduation Party by nek0zawakun(oneshot, fluff, humor) “I kissed you, because I wanted to.” She finally breathed out. His grip tightened. “We don’t always get what we want.” He responded seriously. “But I will,”[COMPLETED]
The Possibility of Rain or Shine by SongsOfAdelaide(oneshot, strangers to lovers, fluff, alternate au) In which you try hard not to fall in love with a potential business partner who may actually be married.[COMPLETED]
In Which Iida Treats A Date Like Everything Else by kawaiicthulhu (oneshot, fluff)"He had printed an itinerary for your date."[COMPLETED]
Broken Glass ✨ ✨ by Anonymous(oneshot, fluff, humor)In a quirk-related accident you find yourself surrounded by shattered glass. Worst of all, most of that glass is from every single pair of your boyfriend’s glasses. What will you do? Just some silly fluff.[COMPLETED]
The Duke's Son and the Viscount's Daughter by btp (oneshot, historical au, fluff, slight angst)When you attend a ball, a certain man catches your eye. Things seem to be going well until an announcement changes everything.[COMPLETED]
Courtship & Heartbreak in Alryne by @bakugotrashpanda (oneshot, victorian au, angst)[COMPLETED]
Soulmate au by @captainsolare (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff)You have each other’s initials on your wrists, they glow when they are held up and shown to your soulmate.[COMPLETED]
Arranged love by @wonderwomanfantasy (oneshot, royalty au, arranged marriage)ever since you were a child you were in love with the idea of love, red roses, and romantic poems, too bad you were sold off into marriage before you could find that kind of love. But is it really too late? after all what is more romantic than a Masquerade ball?[COMPLETED]
Quirk Marriage by @swigglesandwiggles (oneshot, angst, arranged marriage)What happens when a quirk marriage is arranged between two students and both have two very different reactions towards it?[COMPLETED]
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daturabouquet · 1 year ago
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Defying the Doctor's Orders. 🧪
Dottore x Fearful!Reader
[Warnings: dubious consent to examination, spanking, intimidation, violence]
As the Second Harbinger's lover, you're no longer a normal citizen. You can no longer visit regular doctors either, but what a coincidence! Your lover is a "doctor"! He'll take care of your checkups.
If only you just followed his orders...
❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎ 𝐈𝐥 𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎
"But dottore-!" You squirm, whining as he corners you. All you did was get a fever, and he's already all over you. Every single time you pass by his lab, you dread getting a glance of his examination room. The metal bed is always bloody, and you always hear screams coming from that room. Now, you're in their position. In that same exact room, screaming the same volume.
Dottore keeps on cornering you, blocking your every exit. "I thought you said you trusted me, (name)?" He tuts, grabbing your wrist with a death grip, enough to fracture your poor bones.
"I-I trust you as an individual but not as my doctor!" You quiver more, shaking like a leaf. Dottore sighs and gently coaxes you onto the hard metal bed, keeping his voice gentle and soothing. "Darling, I will never hurt you beyond what's necessary. I'd be quite disappointed if you keep fighting me off." He softly states.
As Dottore hoists you on the metal bed, you can't help but squirm even more despite his warnings, and you accidentally kick one of his nearby vials.
Shatter!
Color drains from your face. Your movements come to a halt as the doctor shows a very obvious toothy frown.
"If you were to be any other experiment you would have been dead." Dottore hisses through his teeth, now picking up something from under the table. "I reckon you'd prefer a less Doctor-like approach. I can do that dear." Dottore said, softly stroking your skin. "Let's try a disciplinary approach. Maybe giving you a clear consequence will get you to cooperate." Your curious eyes wander and finally catch a peek of what's in his other hand; a dreaded riding crop, formerly used to examine pain receptors. Dottore wants to exhaust you, swat away all of your energy for the sake of the examination. It's just a doctor's visit, he's doing this for your own good! Yet you fight him as if he's going to mutilate you. That's no way to treat your caretaker now, is it?
"D-dottore! Please- I-I'm scared-" You cry out, hopelessly begging to be set free. Kicking and crying won't help you, you know deep down just how cold-hearted your lover is. You know how he treats his "patients", and you worry deeply if he'll treat you the same.
Dottore sighs and kisses you on the lips, gently soothing your nerves. Before you can utter another word, he keeps on kissing you, gently laying you down. You can't fight back a kiss, especially one so gentle and warm. Dottore keeps pushing you down until your back finally meets the cold metal. You whimper, you can feel a panic attack coming up, but whatever thought that was in your mind went blank as your lover positioned you sideways facing him. Your face still close to his, but your bottom was exposed to the air, no longer pressed against the metal bed.
"D-dottore, w-wh-"
Your pitiful protest was cut off by a harsh swat to your poor rear.
"A-AH!" You yelp, only to be answered with another swat. You never thought your lover would ever do something like this.
Swat, Swat, Swat!
Your screams are muffled by his lips, which he clashed onto yours. Just when you thought you were safe and loved by the doctor, you get a little taste of what it's like to be truly under his control.
"Mmmph! Mm.. Mm!!"
Swat, Swat, Swat!
The sound of the rubber cracking down on your sensitive skin fills the room, along with your little sobs and sniffles.
"Why are you doing this-" You sob out, but the doctor only replies with a quick clasp to your mouth. What a great position to be in.
He shuts you up, while beating your ass senselessly with a riding crop.
"Hmm!-Mmm!!"
Your cries fall on his deaf ears.
"This is for your own good, dear."
Swat!
"I've had it with your defiance."
Swat!
"You deserve this treatment."
Swat!
--
Ten, twenty, thirty? Swats cracked down on you, tinting your skin a deep red. Your blue haired lover finally lets you go, with tears and drool running off your face. You can barely move, let alone struggle against him. Once he's happy with your state, he gently puts you into restraints, to prevent any more of your pathetic attempts. He snaps on a pair of clean medical gloves, before holding a flashlight.
His other hand forces your mouth to open up. With the sudden light hindering your sight, you know that you've lost, and you can only submit from this point on.
"Say Ahh..."
------
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espionn · 1 year ago
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LeafWing tribe sheet!
its over, i finally did them all. sorry this one took a while, ive been losing motivation, but at least its done!! honestly i love leafwings, so im glad i could get them out.
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Physical Appearence + Traits:
-LeafWings are arboreal dragons, living in and relying on trees to hunt, shelter and sleep. Their talons are perfectly shaped to comfortably climb and hold onto branches, and their narrow wings allow them to swoop and weave through the trees without crashing.
-LeafWings’ colors, physical traits, and even demeanor shift and change with the seasons. During the summer, their frills and wings are rich green, and scales bright and glossy. They have higher energy and sleep less. During the fall, their colors shift to a warmer spectrum, their leafy frills start to flake off, and they start to prepare for winter. Once winter arrives, they lose their frills, tail-leaf and wing membranes, as well as turning duller and darker. They spend the majority of winter asleep, relying on the trees’ bare branches for camouflage, now rendered flightless. Finally, during spring, they wake up, their colors brighten, and their wing membranes return. The buds that grow along their backs open up and form their spine frills before summer begins.
-LeafWings are lithe and agile, and are very quiet fliers, especially when compared to HiveWings and SilkWings.
-During the summer, with their wings at their fullest, they can actually photosynthesize. They still need to eat food, but anytime they sleep during the day with their wings open to the sun, they wake up energized and not needing to eat for a while after. 
-The coloration and shape of LeafWings’ wings varies both by region and individual. Some LeafWings mimic specific types of trees.
-Some LeafWings also have Leafspeak, an ability which allows them to communicate with plants and even control them if powerful enough. 
Life Cycle:
-LeafWings hatch in clutches of one or two. They take around 5 months to hatch, and they are deeply reliant on their parents and their wider community. LeafWings are strongly protective of their dragonets. They also grow up somewhat quickly, reaching physical maturity quickly, but they continue to grow in size their entire lives.
-They partner for life, but often only raise one clutch of eggs (sometimes only a single egg) in their lifetime. The tribe is somewhat small as a result.
-LeafWings don’t have an official education system, instead relying on parents, peers and older, more experienced dragons to teach them what they need to know. LeafWings can then go on to pursue whatever tribe role stands out to them, using a sort of mentoring system.
Society and Culture:
-Before LeafWings were split into two groups, the tribe was quite peaceful and unified. The queen, by tradition, always had a council, and they lived nearby and alongside SilkWings. The tribe was known for being friendly and knowledgeable, and deeply dedicated to caring for the forest. 
-LeafWings are also very resourceful. From various leaves, grasses, bits of wood, flowers, and insects, they could create baskets and rugs, thin slats of wood to write on, dyes, storage objects, and various weapons and food preparing tools. Learning to make and control fire meant they could progress faster. They were also talented woodcarvers, weavers and artists, sometimes trading not only supplies, but also various art pieces to and from the SilkWings. 
-They were expert foragers, and had records of every type of tree, plant and animal in their forest. Many had  small gardens of their own - medicinal herbs, spices, and plants they simply found pretty. 
-Those with leafspeak were beloved and respected in the tribe, not dissimilar to animus dragons. Sometimes they would mould the shape of trees’ growth to create proper homes and nests for dragons to spend the nights, especially in winter.
-They have tribe-wide celebrations to mark spring, when they all wake from torpor, and the summer solstice, when they are at their highest energy and fullest lives. 
-The SapWings, after the tribe was forcibly split, remained very similar culturally, though they lost their ability to trade and had to concentrate on survival in the poison jungle. The PoisonWings, meanwhile, changed dramatically. They became distinctly aggressive and warlike, taking their understanding of plants and animals and weaponizing them. They used the many venoms, poisons and sharp, dangerous objects throughout the jungle to their full advantage. A number of dragons died in the process, but those who survived became stronger.
-LeafWings believe that plants hold some level of consciousness, and some believe that they are animated by fully conscious spirits, each with its own unique consciousness and opinions. Trees are unanimously believed to be extremely wise and benevolent, and as deserving utmost care and respect. They are treated as if they were tribe elders themselves. It was once agreed upon by all leafspeakers that if a tree resisted a request, they were not allowed to make any attempt to force it to do what they wanted. Leafspeakers would also be used to make requests before cutting off any part of the tree to use - if it refused, it would be left alone. (It isn’t hard to imagine the way they felt when the entire forest was cut and burned down by the HiveWings.)
Diet: Omnivorous. LeafWings eat meat (birds, rodents, sometimes large mammals and reptiles), sometimes raw, sometimes cooked, and also a wide variety of plants, fruits and nuts. Because of the versatility of their diet, they have a great number of meals they like to prepare, usually garnished with herbs, spices and sweeteners like honey and certain types of tree sap.
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winxanity-ii · 6 months ago
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⌜Cycles of You, Cycles of Me | Chapter 02 Chapter 02 | aeon's witness⌟
╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝
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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘
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Time didn't touch you as it did mortals. Days turned to weeks, and yet you aged swiftly, your small body unfolding like a budding sapling.
What had once been a fragile, vine-wrapped form now took the shape of a toddler, no older than three or four in appearance.
Your limbs, once thin as new branches, became soft and round with the fullness of youth. Your skin still carried the warmth of autumn, its hues shifting ever so slightly in the light—bronzed like late summer, tinged with gold like the turning leaves.
Yet for all your growth, one thing remained the same: your silence.
You didn't cry; you didn't laugh. You simply watched.
The world moved around you, vibrant and full of life—nymphs dancing, rivers laughing, birds calling to one another in the trees—but you remained still, absorbing rather than participating.
It wasn't sadness. It wasn't detachment.
It was simply how you were.
.☆.       .✩.             .☆.
One afternoon, as the golden hues of autumn deepened, a group of nymphs gathered around you.
They twirled through the clearing, their laughter light as drifting petals, their bare feet rustling through the fallen leaves. They danced in a circle around your small form, their voices ringing like wind chimes, their arms sweeping through the air as they cast handfuls of crisp, red leaves into the sky.
The leaves swirled and spun, catching the sunlight, fluttering down like a rain of fire and gold.
Yet, even as the autumn colors rained around you, you didn't react.
You sat there, legs tucked beneath you, hands resting in your lap, watching.
The youngest of the nymphs, a girl with curls as wild as climbing ivy, pouted as she twirled closer. "Why won't you laugh?" she huffed, kneeling before you, her large, honey-colored eyes searching your face.
You simply blinked at her.
The other nymphs giggled behind their hands, whispering about how cute you were, how strange it was that you never reacted the way other spirits did.
The young nymph huffed again, more determined now. She reached out, her small hands gently squishing your round cheeks.
"Awww, look at him!" she cooed, squeezing lightly. "Such a cute little tree spirit!"
The others awed in agreement, watching as your chubby face scrunched slightly under her touch.
Still, you made no sound.
You didn't swat her hands away. You didn't frown. You didn't giggle.
You only tilted your head, your wide, knowing eyes locked onto hers.
A single leaf from your tree drifted down, settling softly onto your petal-crowned hair. Another fell, landing gently against your cheek, curling against the warmth of your skin.
The nymphs paused.
The young one, still kneeling before you, stared into your deep, unblinking gaze, her lips parting as if she finally noticed something different. Something unspoken in the way you watched rather than reacted.
Her voice softened, curiosity overtaking her playfulness.
"Why won't you smile?" she asked.
The wind stirred.
You simply kept staring, as if the answer lay in the space between falling leaves and fading seasons.
The moment stretched—until a voice, soft yet strong, called through the air.
"Little one," Demeter's voice carried through the grove, warm and rich as the earth itself.
Your head turned instantly.
Without hesitation, without question, you reached out.
Demeter approached, her golden robes trailing through the fallen leaves, her presence like the last embrace of summer before winter's arrival. She knelt, scooping you up into her arms with ease, holding you against her chest.
"You always find trouble, don't you?" she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
You didn't respond.
But you did lean into her warmth.
The nymphs watched as she carried you away, their once-playful expressions now tinged with quiet wonder.
They didn't speak until Demeter and you had disappeared beyond the trees.
Then, the young nymph whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
"...He doesn't behave like a tree spirit."
The others, for once, had no response.
Something about you unsettled them. Not in fear, not in distrust—but in a way that made them hesitate. Tree spirits, though silent and strong, were meant to be lively, playful, full of light.
Yet you...
You simply watched.
And that, more than anything, made them wonder.
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Demeter treated you with the same care as her other spirits—yet she never left you alone for too long, and it clung to her in the way she touched you, in the way her hands lingered just a second longer when she tucked your hair behind your ear.
She taught you everything. The sky, the rivers, the cycle of life, the meaning of the seasons.
She took your small hand in hers, guiding you through wheat fields and flowered meadows, showing you how the wind carried seeds, how the earth made space for growth and decay.
She pointed to the sky, explaining the constellations.
She told you how the sun chased the moon, how the stars whispered secrets, how the rivers ran endlessly to the sea.
You didn't ask many questions, not the way the other nature spirits did.
Instead, you observed.
You watched how the clouds moved with purpose across the sky.
You watched how the wheat bent beneath the wind, yet never broke.
You watched how the rivers carried fallen leaves, never returning them.
And the more you watched, the more you began to wonder.
But what gripped you most, what made you feel something deep in your chest, was watching things end.
It started with the leaves.
One day, as you sat beneath your tree, a gust of wind came, shaking the branches. A single, golden leaf broke free, spiraling toward the ground.
You tilted your head, watching as it drifted, slow and soundless, before settling into the earth.
Gone.
You reached out, small fingers brushing the fragile edges.
It didn't move. It didn't return to the branch.
You looked up, waiting, as if it might change.
But nothing happened.
The leaf didn't go back.
Your brows furrowed—not in frustration, not in sadness, but in deep, quiet thought.
That evening, as Demeter sat beside you, her hands weaving wildflowers into a garland, you finally spoke.
Your voice was soft, careful.
"The leaves always fall."
Demeter paused.
She turned to you, her golden eyes searching yours. "Yes," she murmured, twining another flower into the braid. "The trees must let go of their leaves when the seasons change."
You stared down at the leaf in your lap, its color already fading at the edges.
"...But why?"
Demeter exhaled, brushing a hand over your hair. "Because the trees must rest. And when spring comes, they will grow new leaves."
You thought about this for a long moment, your small fingers turning the leaf over.
"...But this one won't come back."
Demeter stilled.
The weight of your words settled into the space between you.
She reached out, taking the leaf gently from your grasp, rubbing it between her fingers before placing it on the earth. "No, ____," she admitted softly. "That one will not come back."
You blinked, staring at where it lay among countless others.
The wind blew again, carrying some away—gone forever.
Your hands curled slightly in your lap.
You didn't know why, but something about that made your chest feel strange.
Like a small, quiet ache you didn't yet understand.
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clonedchaos · 1 year ago
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👟 𝓡𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓔𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽 🌸
Orchids and Oranges: A Yasammy Week Special
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Yippee! It's Yasammy Week, brought to you by @yasammyweek! Pardon the late kickoff, had to attend my sister's bridal shower today as well as writing this 2,000 word one shot in one day. I know most ppl here are doing art, but I can't draw, so fanfic it is! Enjoy! <3
Day 1: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G/PG
Summary: Yaz thought she had left the dinosaurs behind. She thought it was time for her to finally heal… until she came face to face with one on the mainland.
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Yaz wrapped her arms tighter around Sammy’s waist as she gradually got used to the fluid movement of the stallion below them. The saddle wasn’t the most comfortable or practical of inventions, but Sammy had insisted it was far better than riding bare back.
Yaz let her gaze wander as a smile crossed her lips and her heart gave a little flutter. The maple trees surrounding them were colored in vibrant shades of orange, red, and brown. Despite fall coming to a close, Texas was still as humid as ever. It was the polar opposite of her home upstate— the moment it hit October, the temperature would plummet. 
Yaz had gotten used to the frigid air over the years thanks to her daily morning runs. She would be quite out of her element down here if it weren’t for the months she spent stuck on a tropical island. She’d take the Texas heat over Nublar’s every single time.
And, of course, she loved Texas because of Sammy. Her parents had been the textbook definition of southern hospitality ever since Yaz came down to spend the week with them. Sammy had been a hurricane of energy and enthusiasm ever since her arrival. She talked a mile a minute at any possible opportunity and paraded Yaz around to see every nook and cranny of their land. It had been fun; she knew Sammy had been waiting a long time to introduce her officially to her family-- cattle included.
A pleasant breeze brushed past them, Sammy’s hair tickling Yaz’s nose. Yaz sneezed, the sheer power of the act nearly sending her reeling backwards.
”Bless you!” Sammy immediately chimed in, looking over her shoulder. Her hands held the reins in a loose grip as the stallion came to a stop. His ears and tail twitched. Yaz’s behavior had irked him.
“Sorry about that, bud,” She apologized, patting the horse on the flank. A whistle and nudge from Sammy ushered the stallion forward again. 
The cowgirl kept her eyes on her girlfriend. Yaz felt that wasn’t the appropriate course of action given she was the one guiding the horse down the path. It seemed almost as dangerous as taking your eyes off the road while driving.
”The trees are mighty beautiful, aren’t they?” Sammy cooed with a grin. She reached forward and plucked a leaf out of Yaz’s hair. How long had that been in there?
”It is beautiful, Sammy,” Yaz admitted. Truly, the scenery was gorgeous. The Gutierrez’s land was pure nature’s bliss, all 700 acres of it. She liked to call it “The Eight Wonder of the World.”
Sammy glanced up towards the sky, its colors glowing with muted hues of pink, blue, and purple. “It’s gettin’ late. Perhaps we should head back to the stable.” Her gaze darted to and fro before she leaned forward and whispered, “Ol Kota’s eyesight isn’t as great as it once was.”
Kota nickered in response. Yaz snorted. “I think he heard you.”
"Oh, that wasn't an insult, boy!" Sammy quickly corrected sheepishly, getting a chuckle out of Yaz. Sammy's baby talk toward her critters wasn't at all meant to be taken seriously, but Yaz couldn't help but think it was adorable. 
“I suppose you’re right. Hey, think I could beat Kota in a race?” Yaz asked with a clear undertone of a challenge. If he galloped at full speed, she knew he would be able to overtake her effortlessly. But at his old age, she might just have a chance if he were to trot.
Sammy’s eyes shone as she turned her attention back onto Yaz. “Oh, that’s a gre—“
Kota saw the Triceratops first. The elder stallion reared up onto his back legs. Yaz lost her grip on Sammy and hit the ground hard. The breath drew out of her lungs, leaving her momentarily stunned at the blunt impact. Surely that was going to leave a sizable bruise on her tailbone.
”Woah, boy! Easy… Easy!” Sammy yelped as she tightened the reins and fought for control. Yaz instinctively rolled to the side to avoid getting trampled on by hooves, just barely scraping by with nothing more than a dust cloud in her face.
With her chest heaving in gulps of air, Yaz finally lifted her gaze toward the instigator. A bulky Triceratops stood before them in the path, its head lowered and grazing on the sparse patches of grass that sprung up from the dirt trail. At the stallion’s cry of fear, the herbivore lifted its head. Its horns glinted off the dying sunlight’s rays, the tips sharpened points that could skewer her should the animal desire.
Yaz didn’t know why, but she screamed. She screamed a blood curdling cry that sent the nearby birds scattering. Her hands tore up clumps of dirt as she balled them into a fist. Her heart pounded, she could hear it in her ears and feel the blood coursing through her veins. It was getting hard to breathe. Why could she not breathe? Why couldn't she think? Why was her vision spinning? Was it a concussion, or was she losing it?
The Triceratops bellowed and raked its front leg on the ground. Despite being in fear’s clutches, Yaz subconsciously knew it was about to charge. Suddenly the aspect of getting trampled by a horse seemed far more appealing.
The Triceratops stomped forward, waving its horns threateningly. Yaz couldn’t move. She wanted to pull herself off the ground and bolt toward the nearest tree. She wanted to be safe, to be inside, to be far away from this prehistoric beast. But her body was rooted to the floor, tied down by unseen vines. Despite the adrenaline pulsing through her veins and the chilling numbness of her hands, she could only watch powerlessly as she sat directly in the line of fire.
“Yaz!” Sammy was suddenly right by her side on horseback. Quite literally her knight in shining armor. She extended a hand down to her. Yaz felt a sharp pierce plunge through her heart at the palpable fear she found lying behind Sammy's eyes. “Come on!”
Yaz still felt frozen by invisible roots. She wanted to reach for Sammy. She wanted them to huddle under the blanket fort Sammy had insisted they build in her room last night. Her and Sammy had been at checkers for nearly two hours before Sammy’s mother had called them down for dinner. She wanted to wake up in the morning and breathe in the aroma of fresh, fluffy cinnamon rolls and salted, crisp bacon. Would she ever partake in these memories again? Or would they be snuffed out, much like her life might very well be. If only she could just…
MOVE!
With one hand wrapped around the stirrup, Sammy leaned down and grabbed Yaz by the arm. Yaz knew her girlfriend was strong, like really really strong. Calling her "country strong" wasn't just a cute pet name, it was a fact.
Sammy's rapid maneuver was enough to nudge Yaz up and back into the saddle. With a quick snap of the reins and click of her heels, Sammy ushered Kota forward. The trike missed them by a hair, nearly getting clocked on the muzzle by the stallion's hooves.
Yaz had her arms wrapped around Sammy in a death grip, her face buried against her wool jacket. It felt like she was holding her breath for every second until they had made it safely to the barn. Her chest was tight and sweat rolled down the side of her head. She could barely feel her fingers besides the buzzing, staticky feeling she noticed there.
"Yaz?" 
She looked up with rounded eyes. Sammy released the reins and kicked her leg up and over as she dismounted. Immediately, she turned and extended a hand toward Yaz in a gesture of assistance. "Are you okay?"
No. No she wasn't. With a shaky breath and trembling hand, she reached out. Sammy's hands were worn with numerous callouses; no doubt a result from her long days of working hard on the ranch. Her fingers intertwined with Yaz's. At the touch, the dam holding back her tears finally broke. Yaz sank to her knees and began to sob.
Sammy was right there, kneeling down and pulling her into an embrace. "It's okay, Yaz. I'm here," She cooed, gently rubbing her back in a circular motion. 
Yaz nestled closer to her, hoping Sammy's very presence would be enough to chase away her inner demons. "I... I thought... I thought we'd be done with dinosaurs," She admitted weakly. She hated feeling like this. Vulnerable. It was like she was a little kid all over again; someone who needed to be coddled and comforted by her mother.
"I know..." Sammy replied sympathetically as she rested her head against Yaz's. "I wasn't expecting to see a trike so close to home."
It was getting a little easier to breathe now. Just a little. "Why? Why is it here?" She choked out, closing her eyes.
Sammy grew silent. Yaz didn't expect her to answer that rhetorical question. After all, how in the world would she know what a dinosaur was doing hundreds of miles from Nublar?
Rather, Sammy began to hum. Her tone lilted in a melancholic sway. Yaz seemed momentarily taken aback as her heartbeat began to steady and her limbs slackened. With every rise and fall in tempo, Yaz begun to notice an unmistakable pattern in the rhythm.
Yaz leaned back and cupped Sammy's cheek in her hand. Her eyes still stung, and she knew she probably looked like a bedraggled mess. Right now, that didn't matter. "How do you know that song?"
Sammy leaned into Yaz's touch. "Your mother taught it to me. She knows you've been having a tough time since the island..." She trailed off and averted her gaze.
Yaz relaxed her features and silently urged Sammy to continue. "She told me it used to help you when you were little... and I thought it might help in this situation," She murmured sheepishly and rubbed her arm in embarrassment with flushed cheeks.
Yaz cracked a gentle smile at that and swiftly planted a kiss atop her forehead. "It did help. I'm sorry. For freezing like that..."
"Hey, none of that," Sammy lectured sternly with a good-natured smile. She held both of Yaz's hands in her own. "Just because we're off the island, it doesn't mean those feelings just up and disappeared. But I know you, Yaz. You're the bravest, most stubborn fighter I know. We just need to take baby steps again."
Baby steps. Right. It was like running a marathon; you don't go full sprint right off the bat. You pace yourself until you're further along with the finish line in sight.
"It just... surprised me is all," Yaz continued. The fireflies casted a gentle, infrequent glow across the purple and blue painted sky. "I thought I would be over this. But what if...? What if there are more dinosaurs?" Particularly the ones that would have them for a midnight snack.
"I don't know," Sammy admitted, returning the kiss on Yaz's forehead. "But what I do know is that I'm here if you ever need me. We conquered Nublar together. And if dinosaurs are on the mainland now, we'll conquer that together too. You're stronger than your fears."
Yaz smiled and pulled Sammy close. There was one constant in her life when it came to dinosaurs: Sammy. When her PTSD got the better of her on Manta Corp's island, she was there to help ease her nerves and shift her attention toward other matters. Even if they were states apart, she knew Sammy would just be a phone call away. And that was enough.
"I'll always be here for you, mi rosa. For now, and forever."
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shogunish · 2 years ago
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𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿.
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pairing. student! gojo satoru x reader
genre. fluff, slice of life, idiots in love
warnings. tooth-rotting fluff
summary. and when you laugh at his stupid comment, leaves of all colors and sizes in your hair, cheeks red from the low temperatures, he finally knows why you love autumn so much.
words. 901
note. don't imagine falling in love with toru in autumn, sharing hot chocolate, cozy movie dates and him giving you his sweater bc yours don't keep you warm enough
comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3
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satoru doesn't know why you love autumn so much when it's not only the busiest time for sorcerers, but also annoyingly windy with sudden downpours out of nowhere. days are cut short since the sun would set earlier than usual and dark skies would envelop tokyo at five pm instead of at nine in the late evening. autumn is the season in which everything starts dying or hiding away; may it be trees drying out and shedding their once lush leaves or that small hedgehog across the street searching for a cozy, safe place to hibernate.
a scowl rested on satoru's handsome face. the tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks are bitten red by the chilly temperatures lingering in the streets. snot runs from his nostril and he sniffles. even the coat paired with the scarf wrapped around his neck can't stop his runny nose. satoru isn't sick, oh no. if anything, he's sick of the weather.
chilly temperatures always equal a runny nose for satoru.
he sighs, cerulean eyes rolling behind pitch black shades. "next time, you go on that walk by yourself. my doctor will hear about you if i get sick."
a light bounce is in your step. turning to face satoru, you smile at him. "stop exaggerating. i just wanted to see you and spend some time with you." satoru is right next to you, eyeing you from his peripheral. "you've been away so much ever since autumn came."
he just scoffs. luckily, satoru's cheeks are already red or else you would've called him out on the blush blooming across his cheeks. he likes to pretend to be tough and immune to your words when in reality, each of your honeyed words cut through his defenses like butter.
"must miss me real bad, huh? how cute." satoru puffs his chest out, proud of the comment he's just come up with.
a little pout rests upon your lips and all of a sudden, you feel a little shy, because yes, you do miss satoru real bad and feel almost..lonely without him. but with an ego as massive as satoru is tall, you can't give him that sort of satisfaction. so all you do is huff in response. "all i heard is that i'm cute."
selective hearing, hm?
despite the several layers of clothes hiding your skin and keeping you toasty warm, satoru knows how to worm his way through every single layer until he is underneath your skin, flustering you and making you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.
popping into your personal bubble, he wears a smug smirk on his chapsticked lips. "ohhh, you do miss me!" satoru chirps, tosses his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side.
occasionally, satoru forgets how strong he is compared to you and is a bit rougher with you than he should be. the pull is sudden, makes you squeak as you slip on a damp leaf and lose your balance. instead of finding yourself in satoru's arm, your butt lands in a pile of dried leaves.
dumbfounded you stare at satoru, owlishly blinking at him while a few leaves get stuck on the top of your head. he thinks he fucked up, will get a real good scolding from you, telling him to be more careful, but your nagging never comes.
instead, you laugh heartily with round cheeks and your teeth showing off. a melodious sound that fills the park and drips right into the cracks of satoru's heart, turning the snow into sweet, saccharine honey.
his heart does this funny thing again. the thing where it skips a beat and pumps just a tad bit harder, making him feel warm from the core up.
before satoru can even think about teasing you, a handful of leaves is flung right at his face and he finds himself laughing along with you. "what was that for?"
"for letting me fall and getting my ass wet!" you're still laughing, then your face scrunches up as satoru flings his own fistful of leaves at your face.
you begin chasing him with two fistfuls of leaves. suddenly, red, yellow and orange is stuck in his hair and you realize..it makes his eyes look even more mesmerizing than they already are. how unfair.
"not my fault you're getting your ass wet over me!"
oh, he's having the time of his life chasing you around the park, flinging dried leaves at each other and laughing so carelessly without a worry in the world. your laughter mixes with his, creating a symphony that only something akin to love could compose.
"oh, shut up, will you?!" playfully, you shove satoru into a pile of leaves, but if he's going down, he's taking you with him.
grabbing you by the collar, satoru falls into the pile of leaves with you and laughs alongside you. a tangled mess of limbs and puffs of white smoke fill the space around you. your head rests somewhere on satoru's chest while his arms and legs are sprawled out like a starfish.
"i'll only shut up if you make me, darling." satoru wiggles his eyebrows at you, all in good fun.
and when you laugh at his stupid comment, leaves of all colors and sizes in your hair, cheeks red from the low temperatures, he finally knows why you love autumn so much.
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taglist; @torusmochi
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bradleysass · 7 months ago
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Leaves - word count: 695 - Starchaser
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The chill of late October lingered in the air, crisp and bittersweet, as James walked through the forest bordering the Black Lake. The ground crunched beneath his boots—leaves, golden and brittle, carpeting the earth. The world seemed suspended in its yearly ritual of decay, but James wasn’t focused on the changing season.
He was looking for Regulus.
He found him sitting at the base of a sprawling oak, his dark hair blending into the shadows, his pale hands clutching a single scarlet leaf. James stopped a few paces away, the ache in his chest returning as it always did when he saw him—Regulus, quiet and severe, his edges both sharp and delicate, like the leaf that trembled in his grasp.
“Are you just going to stand there?” Regulus asked without looking up. His voice was soft, but it carried, cutting through the stillness of the clearing.
James smiled despite himself. “Just taking in the view.”
Regulus’s lips twitched, but he didn’t reply. He tilted his head back, letting it rest against the oak’s rough bark. The canopy above was a kaleidoscope of oranges and reds, sunlight filtering through like stained glass.
James sat down beside him, their shoulders brushing. He could feel the tension in Regulus’s frame, the way he held himself too tightly, as if bracing against some unseen storm.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” James said, nodding toward the leaves.
“They’re dying,” Regulus replied, his tone matter-of-fact. He let the scarlet leaf slip from his fingers, watching it flutter to the ground.
James sighed. “Always so poetic, Black.”
Regulus gave him a sidelong glance, his gray eyes unreadable. “It’s not poetry, Potter. It’s just the truth.”
“And yet,” James said, reaching down to pick up the discarded leaf, “even in dying, they’re beautiful.”
For a moment, Regulus didn’t respond. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the soft rustle of the wind. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. “Do you think that’s true for everything? That there’s beauty in endings?”
James turned to him, the teasing smile slipping from his face. “I think…” He paused, searching for the right words. “I think endings are only one part of the story. The beauty is in what comes before—and what comes after.”
Regulus’s gaze dropped to his hands, his fingers curling into fists. “You always make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not simple,” James said, his voice firm. “But that doesn’t mean it’s hopeless.”
Regulus looked up then, and there was something raw in his expression, something vulnerable that James rarely saw. It made his chest tighten, the ache growing sharper.
“Do you ever think about what it would be like,” Regulus said, his voice barely above a whisper, “if things were different?”
James swallowed hard. He knew what Regulus meant—knew the weight of the question, the impossibility of it.
“Every day,” he admitted.
They sat in silence after that, the words hanging between them like an unspoken promise. James wanted to reach out, to take Regulus’s hand, but he didn’t. He knew better than to push.
The wind picked up, scattering leaves around them in a whirlwind of color. Regulus watched them with a faraway look, his expression softening.
“They remind me of us,” he said suddenly.
James frowned. “The leaves?”
Regulus nodded. “Falling, fleeting. Beautiful, but never meant to last.”
James’s heart twisted at the words, but he forced a smile. “Maybe. But even when they’re gone, the trees aren’t empty forever. New leaves grow. The cycle starts again.”
Regulus glanced at him, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Always the optimist.”
“Someone has to be,” James said, bumping his shoulder lightly against Regulus’s.
For the first time that day, Regulus laughed—a quiet, breathless sound that warmed James more than the sunlight ever could.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the clearing, James knew their time was slipping away, as it always did. But for now, he let himself savor the moment—the warmth of Regulus’s presence, the fragile peace between them.
Like the leaves, it wouldn’t last. But that didn’t make it any less beautiful.
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k3m1y4 · 1 year ago
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“nothing in the world belongs to me.”
fyodor x gn!reader
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summary: just a calm night with ease, nothing else belongs to you but for your love for yourself, and him, he was you. before you could die, let him be the heat that warms the cold. nothing in the world belongs to him, nothing. belongs to you.
author’s note: fluff and angst?, not proofread, no warnings. here’s a little fic before i go to sleep early because i need to fix my messed up sleep schedule <3 love u pookies, have a great morning/night/day.
. . . ecard: my love all mine . . . by mitski.
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The breeze was indeed cold.
Your weakened body walked through the thickened snow. Your feet barely even moving by a single step, your tracks tainted the snow deep into the ground. Waiting for it to melt and disappear in a fragrance of a snowflake landing gracefully on the chill land. You hum quietly as you continued to forward yourself into finding your beloved, you hold him so dear. The dark shade of the leaves painted by the snow falling from the sky, what a keen eye could see from the mesmerizing scenery. The moon kept it’s guidance into leading you through the snowed forest. Light coloring your skin to a brighter tone as you pause in your pace. You flutter your eyes closed as you sigh, puffs of air blowing throughout the wind, carrying the last and first time of your breath.
You hum an unfamiliar tone; you were clueless must to know of what you sing. You’ll never hear the heavenly melody of the birds chant and echo during the spring. When the flowers will now bloom, welcoming it’s beauty it hides within the cold to keep a surprise of amusement. You knew you’d meet him here, back to where you met. The last will be the better of the first. Clasping on the trunk of the tall tree tightly as you lean against the wood. Breathing heavily as the warmth of your presence was no longer protecting you from the cold, it gave in to give up. You watch the snow continue to fly as the wind pushes it away from your gaze. You chuckle silently to yourself, wherein deaf ears could hear.
“Fedya…”
You impatiently fix your composure as you wait for the man awaiting you for your final remorse. “Fedya…” You say out again, you felt numb and weak. Though, there was no chains pulling you back to the darkness you merely seek at the chances life was already tearing you to shreds, unperfected and flawed. Just like any other fool lighting the world with its’ unmarked glow. You sigh in faux disappointment as you fold your arms, your vision started to blur in a trance as you blink twice to keep up with your fatigue. “Fyodor!” You weakly yell as you step on the chill as it sent a chill down to your spine. You hug yourself tightly as you shake your head, waving the pain away from you.
You knelt down, your clothed knees meeting the veins of the unsettling, cold atmosphere. The wind brushing your hair as it flew the flakes away from your flesh. You start to shape the piece of snow into a large rounded ball. Placing it forcefully on the ground, you make another, another. Repeatedly. The size decreasingly shrunken to your desired measurement. You stand up, inspecting the area surrounding you in barriers. You look down at your coat as you avert your eyes to a leaf slopingly resting on the coldness. You carefully put it on the rounded ball at the very top of the structure as you giggle in joy. Whether then it be your last snowman, you had the bit of joy from the heat of a candle so small and easily melted.
“Myshka.” Fyodor spoke deeply. You were back to him. You trace along the snowman’s head forming a curved smile on it’s face. Fyodor chuckles at your pointless yet adorable antics you’d always do during the winter season. Not like he was complaining. You gently decorated the snowman as you softly placed your headwear on your masterpiece as Fyodor watches you silently observing your actions as he sighs. “Моя любовь, ты можешь простудиться.” He reminds you at you just smile at him tilting your head as he rolls his eyes at you. “Stop being so stubborn for once, my love.” He walked towards you and poked your nose with his slender finger. “But Fedya! I’m going to die anytime soon. Let me have some fun…” You whine at him, but who was he to reject.
“Alright, alright, myshka. Just be careful, okay?” He runs his surprisingly warm hands against your silk hair. “Hmm? Fedya, your hands are unusually warm!” You exclaim at him as you test out how heated he was by hugging him tightly. Oh he was warm! He stumbled back slightly; his back gently hitting the wooden tree. You bury your face in his chest as he couldn’t help but just groan at your stupid acts. “Моя любовь...” He sighed, preventing his urge to just scold you he instead pulled you towards him. As you hug him, desperate and pleading for his affection.
He embraces you back in a form of acceptance as you “sleep” within his warmth. His eyes look down at you and gently caress your lifeless face, tilting your chin up, your eyes fluttered already closed. He smiles slightly as he lets your head lay on his shoulder as he leans his head back to relax in the slightest moments of these. You taught him how to love, when he couldn’t. You taught him to do the simplest forms of affection he could not show. You taught him how to love you. You gave him the lesson, nothing belongs to him, not you, not his treasure, nothing but only his, only love. Stroking your hair as his chest breathes, yours didn’t. Your heart slowed down quickly, he couldn’t feel your voice nor your life anymore carrying with him. And here he was. You were his teacher, and he was the student. Despite your intellect lower than his, you somehow managed to teach him things a normal human could simply display to those who they love. Love was weird to him, he hated the idea of affection, adoration, and admiration. He knew how to define its’ meaning, but never how.
He was grateful of you, when you unexpectedly barged into his life like the upcoming of his mistakes on the bumpy road all the way. He will die too, he will be with you. He is a bad person, you weren’t. You were the first to tie the string, you tied the strings. And you were the first one to cut it apart. You may disappear, but. You filled a hole in his heart; ripped many times. And you tainted him with your goodness.
“Sleep well, my love. I love you.”
He never received a letter written, I love you too.
GAAA. Not too angsty for me but idk idk. Tried to experiment here and it kinda failed. I’m sleep so i’m wayyyy tooooo lazy to read it. Kinda lazy for the plot. Thanks for reading tho 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
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shona22 · 1 year ago
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Prompt from @thewitchway
Hope you enjoy it.
-
It’s a few miles, maybe three if Stiles can stretch his legs further to accommodate Derek’s long strides. But the preserve sprawls across acres and acres of soil, dried leaves, and magic—changing, as Stiles would solemnly swear on the blood of his future children. The tree shapes, branches, leaf colors, the very air, even the worn-down path leading to the dilapidated Hale house—all of it shifts.
Derek does not seem to mind. He’s one tracked, eyes straight ahead, shoulders no longer taunt. It’s home to him, Stiles thinks, feeling his mouth stretch at the sides without meaning to. 
The clorisBane, a hybridized version of the wolfsbane is supposedly blooming at midnight, on the southern side of the preserve. Issac had inadvertently stumbled into it, nose full of pollen, his long winded whine had alerted others. When he had finally dosed off at Deaton’s, body still trembling from heat, Derek called him. Stiles–well, Stiles had half a thought of saying no, wanted Derek to work for it, growl into his phone even–but, well, he wasn’t in the mood to antagonize the wolf. He was training to be their emissary, and it would be Stiles job, soon enough, to patrol the boundaries of beacon Hill in search for poisonous, magical plants. A trial run couldn't hurt, even though his knowledge of ClorisBane was limited to what he had read in the bestiary.
And so, he found himself walking alongside Derek, their steps not quite hurried. Stiles had stuffed his restless hands into the pockets of his red hoodie (Derek, for some inexplicable reason, loathed that particular piece of clothing. Stiles had tried to pry an explanation from him, but all he received were grunts and growls.), whistling whenever he realized he was better off keeping quiet than risking saying something stupid, like, hey remember last week when I woke up at the loft, in your bed–
It starts to rain. 
It’s not a single drop that alerts them, tickling down Stiles’s forehead, no. It’s a gush of water, as if someone had decided to push a bucket off the trees. Before he can splutter, or inadvisably stumble and fall into the muddy ground, a strong hand seizes Stiles by his biceps and pulls.
“There’s a shed,” Derek says against his ears, “Follow me.” 
“I can’t,” Stiles manages, teeth clattering and all. Water blurs his vision, clumping his long eyelashes together. He blows some water raspberries, trying to form something coherent. “I can’t see shit, Derek.” 
There’s a grunt, then he is no longer touching the ground. 
“What thre fuck–”
“It’s faster.” Derek answers tersely, his hold tight on Stiles' wet clothes, one across the expanse of his back and the other below the boy’s knees. He throws one of his arm around Derek’s neck, getting comfortable since it appears the wolf has no intention of letting him go. 
A few minutes later, though a few minutes longer than Stiles would have preferred, they found themselves huddling inside a decrepit shed—or was it an outdoor toilet? Stiles silently swore that if Derek had pushed him into a smelly, bug-infested shithouse—
"It's not far from the house," Derek interjected, his voice no longer neutral but hoarse. "Laura used to garden; it's her shed."
“Oh,” Stiles say, uncharacteristically quiet. “Thanks.” 
He doesn’t know what he is thanking for. Derek just grunts. Typical. 
The walls of the small, two by two shed had moss growing upon them. There were some wild flowers, peaking from the fractured, rotten wood. It smelt of nothing particularly outlandish, but Stiles guesses it’s partly because of the overwhelming rain, the scent of wet soil had completely overtaken his human senses. And partly, he suspected, because of Derek. The cramped space felt intimate; if Stiles were any larger, Derek's face would have been nestled against his neck. Stiles faced the door with Derek behind him, close enough to feel the heat off his body, but far enough to feel tense. It’s a mess. He opens his mouth a couple of times, to say something, anything, to dissipate the thick air between them. 
The thunder does the trick. 
Warm, wet arms wrapped tightly around Stiles's midriff. There was now a solid presence behind him, pressing against his back, Derek's beard grazing his neck. He shivered, not from the eminent cold, but the absolutely delicious smell of Derek’s cologne, the one that hasn’t been washed off in the rain. He tried to stifle a whimper, feeling needy and desperate, but it escaped anyway, just as his ears began to ring. Derek's arms tightened ever so slightly, his chest rumbling deeply, animalistic. Stiles couldn't discern if Derek was comforting himself or Stiles. The silence between them was palpable.
“I couldn’t help but notice,” Stiles starts, because he needs to or his head will explode from too many things unsaid. “You seem to hate me a little less.”  
Derek stills. 
Then, a whisper across the exposed skin– the joint between his neck and shoulder, “I never hated you.”
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fridgemissionmaster · 4 months ago
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Lucifer: March Prompt/Day 2 Butterflies
Prompt list/available prompt requests here, making a fic everyday of march
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So… trapped in a dream.
Could be worse, better than when Diavolo thought the best way to get his family off their phones was to seal away most of them only leaving a few to solve riddles and release you all. He certainly didn’t care for how you kept poking him when he was stuck in the D.D.D.
Mammon swam in a pool of grimm, you lounging on an inflatable chair.
Leviathan and you on some fantasy quest, you being the fighter and him a healer.
Satan was in a cat wonderland, you beside him feeding kittens.
Asmodeus simply cuddled with you in the most innocent sense.
Beelzebub you, and everyone else, even Lilith all sat around the lounge room, a movie playing in the background as everyone broke off into their own conversations, sometimes butting into other’s.
Belphie lay among a sea of stars.
You… seemed happy.
The dream should fade soon. There was no way to disturb it, to hasten this process, there was nothing to do. Not even be on standby for whatever whim Diavolo had, even he couldn’t invade this place.
It was sunny, a bright blue sky, imperfect, clouds rolled by carried on by the breeze. The wind brushing past rustled the tall grass making it wave. A forest surrounded the clearing. And all that was here, a single tree. Lightly groaning he sat under it’s shade, letting himself fall back, closing his eyes.
He let out a long deep breath.
It felt so nice.
And warm.
Sure there was that boisterous shouting in the distance but what else was new. If anything complete silence unnerved him. Claranet, oboe, violin, and cello accompanied the noise beautifully, wrapping it up into it’s own melody.
And there he stayed.
By himself.
Eventually humming along being carried away.
Sniffing, suddenly an irritable tickling on the end of his nose.
A butterfly. It stood, perched there, looking back at those bright red eyes. Mouth slightly agape, he looked to it softly. A pretty thing it was, and Lilith’s favorite colors too.
“Wait.” It flittered and fluttered, just out of reach. No matter how he waved his arms and hands, how long he ran after it the butterfly was just too far, soon disappearing into the sky. But dark clouds were coming in, surely it would rain!
And it was already gone.
All he could do was run back to the tree.
He threw himself back, out of breath and drenched he almost wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. More butterflies. One swooped right past his face racing to the others. They sat perched and huddled together on a branch, not moving even when drops found their way through the canopy and landing on them. Even as he gently nudged them with his fingers they wouldn’t budge. However, he got a peek as to why. Amongst them all a woolie caterpillar.
Taking one of the bigger leaves from the ground he tried sliding it between the insect and the bark. The butterflies flew around him in a flurry but he tried ignoring them. He had to be a bit forceful to get that stubborn caterpillar off but if he was too rough he could very well kill the thing, and so he kept nudging at it till finally it was on the leaf.
A deep sigh escaped him.
Finally.
Now to work. Trotting along those butterflies flew around him, zipping to and fro but never straying far. But still, they had the chance of going away, or getting hurt. He wouldn’t allow it.
Soon he found himself in that glass house. The pants were overgrown, the dirt path practically nonexistent. And so he pruned, tying some stems back so they didn’t cover the path, trimming the sprawled out bushes, ripping out the dead weeds and flowers to make room for new sprouts.
Those butterflies just kept getting in the way though it was simple enough to shoo them away most of the time but… that caterpillar. He stopped himself just in time from stabbing the thing clean through with the spade when he was digging a hole.
Looking around, the place was rather small, wasn’t it.
Quickly he locked the door behind himself.
Honestly, this was good enough. He could still watch them, they were safe. He would still have to barge in to fix things up on occasion, but he’d make it swift. In the mean time he sat down, leaning against the glass, listening to the fluttering of those wings.
This is nice.
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themissingnumbers · 9 months ago
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HOW IT FEELS TO DISAPPEAR: DESCENT
WARNINGS: Glitched/Disturbing Imagery FIRST || PREV | NEXT READ THE STORY IN ORDER ON AO3 [Is something wrong?]
Your mind begins to race with scared and frustrated thoughts. Despite your bubbling anger, though, you try desperately to rationalize his apathetic behavior to yourself.
It's exactly the same as things have always been, after all. So rarely do you see him speak or emote... You'd always known your brother to be flat-faced like this, even at the worst of times...
Still, is it selfish to wish this would break through that cold exterior- that your suffering would warrant that icy demeanor melting a bit, if only to try and comfort you? Just like you've tried to protect and comfort him, since the very day you'd met? Is it so much to ask for just a little effort in return?!-
No. Wait. Stop.
The last thing you should do right now is to let your temper turn you against someone you love.
Deep breaths. Calm down.
... This must be getting to him too, you decide. People like that only enforce their walls harder when under stress. So if he can't even begin to open up, then...
"... Is something wrong?" you ask tentatively, sweetening and softening your voice to the loveliest little tone you can muster. You need to let him know that you care. That must be what he needs right now. You can't let yourself begin to assume anything else of him. He's... He's better than that. Right?
You watch the boy blink slowly, seeming to finally focus in on you instead of the wall behind you. His dull brown gaze is unwavering as always... Those eyes were always so striking, almost hypnotic- an ethereal kind of light that shone behind a dirty color that teetered closer to gray than anything natural.
Red reaches his hands up, slowly- the motion almost seems hesitant, but you're unsure if that's really it, or if you're just making up hopeful reasons for his always-robotic and methodical motions. These slow and deliberate movements were just how he was.
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The gloved hands come to rest on your shoulders, and you feel his hold tighten, with something like an underlying intensity lacing the grip. He leans down slightly, meeting your eyes.
"Leaf," he whispers.
You can't remember if you've ever, even once, heard a single word spill from those lips. It floods your mind- clouds your thoughts. You're compelled to listen to everything he has to say. The words of a boy sworn to silence are worth more than gold.
"Do you trust me?"
Of course you do. Forever, always. As family must trust family. You nod quickly, feeling your chest tighten.
"Good," he breathes, closing his eyes.
"... You have to keep going, Leaf... it's for the best."
He opens them again, managing a small smile. Like light running through you, his eyes, his smile- they soothe you, and bolster you with a new strength to power ahead.
The thought fills you, empowers you, floods your every thought- you do trust him, you'd trust him with your life. And if he says so, if the only way out is through, then...
You can't stop here.
... His expression falls back into blankness and he averts his gaze, uttering his final words, so quiet that you barely hear him...
"... For everyone."
With his few, rare words finished, he steps back, turning his empty gaze back to the window. Even while ending your brief exchange just as distant as he started... You aren't upset, not anymore. You feel a bit warmer, now. Stronger. Focused. Ready.
"I'll be home soon," you promise him, before turning, clinging to the strap of your bag. Red doesn't even so much as flinch, but... It's okay.
Everyone copes in their own ways, you justify again.
Always, always justifying...
But it's okay. It's always okay.
You trust your brother more than anyone else.
You walk around the table in the middle of Mr. Fuji's home, the new sense of focus driving you onward and to the door. Eevee still cowers in its bag, but... You'll both be safe once this is over. This is the best thing you could do for it. Whatever it takes to make this nightmare end.
In the moment your hand comes to rest on the doorknob, before you can properly leave, one last thing stops you- a young boy's voice, calling out-
"Y'know..."
You hesitate briefly, before turning to look at the Bug Catcher, narrowing your eyes quizzically. He just smiles, resting his chin on one hand.
"The ghosts can't usually get in here," he continues. His emerald eyes flicker towards something behind him- towards Red?- before he returns his attention to his Pokemon yet again, seemingly more bemused than anything.
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"I wonder why that is."
... You huff. It's all nonsense to you. Is he trying to be funny? Cryptic? Looking to get under your skin like all the little bug-catching boys back home?
He's not worth the attention, you think to yourself. You don't have time for this- you've got things to do.
You swing the door open, ready to keep moving. Time to get on with your day.
Time to get this over with.
As you step out, you quickly find yourself disoriented. Rather than the damp air, grass, and stone walkways you'd anticipated, you're inside, somewhere. It's hard to say- you can recognize that you're surrounded by hard flooring and walls, the structure of the room reminding you of... a lobby, maybe?
Somehow, though, unlike the other places you've been inside of, the fog has followed you in here. Everything in this room, from walls to floors to decorations, is obscured by it, no more than silhouettes and shadows in your eyes.
It's familiar, though. You can't deny that, no matter how badly you want to shrug away the feeling of unease that nestles within you from the thought.
You're better than running around frantically, though- this entire time you've felt as frantic as a Torchic with its head chopped off, but not anymore. No, you have a goal, now. A direction to travel. Words to find strength in, comfort in.
The only way out is through, you tell yourself again, reminding yourself of your brother's whispers. Forward, onward, straight ahead- focus, Leaf, focus.
You can't let him down now. Not him, not yourself, not Blue, and not Eevee. Maybe if you do this, things will go back to normal for everyone.
The thought kindles the fire in your heart that spurs you on- a feeling in your very soul affirming that yes, yes. This is the truth.
End this, and it's back to the status quo. Everyone's lives can go back to normal, just as intended.
Everything will be as it should.
You begin walking, following the tiled floors and the vague image of sleek walls that guide you towards the back of this lobby.
An imposing door stands wide open, beckoning you into the dark.
The only way out is through.
You step forward, swallowed up by the darkness.
... Your path, still shrouded by fog and an inky veil of darkness, is thankfully straightforward at least.
You try to be keenly aware of your environment but refuse to step off the path laid out for you. The series of rooms you traverse seem empty, thankfully... although they're decorated in odd statues that you can barely make out through the low visibility.
You enter the first room. The first thing you notice is how cold it is. The blue tinted tile floors sting your bare feet, frosted over from the damp air. Your sight is only obscured further by your foggy breath, clouding up the air in front of you. The outlines of six pillar-like structures, three on each side, are the only defining structures you can see.
You swear you hear gently crashing waves from below as you step through another pitch black doorway.
Second room. The little color you can make out seems more washed out than the previous room. You can't tell if the tiles here are chipped away, or covered in dirt and gravel- the small bits that dig into your soles only grow more plentiful as you continue through. Alongside the growing mess, the already dull, sandy colors fade into a dim grey. Much like the last room, you count similar pillars on each side once again- though towards the back, you noticed hunks of rock and boulders strewn about. You're almost left to find out the hard way when your leg grazes against one of the rough, rigid stones.
You swallow thickly as deja-vu begins to invade your mind. Another door. You keep moving.
Third. The chipping of the flooring is even worse, you can see as much- though now you're certain the last room must have had something else, because the pieces of paint and tile don't hurt as much anymore. Flecks of lavender that once colored the place are now the minority. Instead, the room is filled with a washed-out, near-white tint that seems to stick out even through the lack of lighting, giving off a ghostly shimmer that faintly lights the room through the fog. There's six pillars, you count again- they seem shorter, though. It's harder to pick them out through the clusters of other structures that now decorate a majority of the rest of the floor, colorless and rigid. As you pass one of the shapes close enough to reach, you absently run a hand over it; cool to the touch, smooth but with a gentle texture of chiseled stone... You feel slim dips across the front of it, seeming to make up lines of letters. You don't let yourself think too hard about what this stone must be, instead hurrying forward to the next exit.
The familiarity of this place only grows as you continue, making you feel more and more ill as you keep continuing onward.
But you must keep going. Keep pushing. Keep moving forwards. Keep going. Don't stop.
You step through another door.
Fourth. Final. You know this is the last one. It's laid out differently. The hall seems to curve, weave, and you stumble half-blind to get through the less linear area.
There's no more color here. The entire place is dyed grey, walls washed out to white and floors as simple monochromatic paneling. In the back of your mind, you now know it's all wrong- the tiling should be that of dazzling turquoise, the walls should shimmer with golden colors and lining, intricately carved patterns should have been written up on the different panels, brought to attention by yellow spotlights. Now, though... it's just plain, flat, and empty, as bland and sterile as a hospital. The walls are blank, the floors are drab. Not even the mess of chipped tile or rubble is there anymore, no pain or flavor for your poor, bare feet. Just a smooth and plain pathway.
The imposing statues that you remember, those lovingly carved stone visages of the mightiest of beasts and dragons, are gone. All you see in their place is that plain flooring. There's minuscule specks of residue and broken rocks- the amount so trivial that you only notice they're there when you bump one pebble with a toe, listening to it skid away and hit a wall.
You step through a gate, this time- the hallway opening up into the biggest arena of the four. The fog hangs all the heavier here- you can barely see your own two feet anymore. Your pace slows to something hesitant, fearful, but you still move ahead.
You can no longer discern the six statues that you know should be there. Something else entirely fills the spot of the massive, arching array of ancient dragon's teeth that had once left you shaking with anticipation.
Instead, the room is flooded with the faint and foggy silhouettes of the beasts that once sat outside in the hallway. You can't tell one apart from the other anymore- each horn and feature blending into one another in the mess of colorless decorations. The placement is all haphazard, it's senseless, it's oppressive- all clustered in a circle so dense that you can't hope to see the room's walls through both them and the fog.
You slow to a stop when you come close enough to the exit door. You can see the suffocating black of the only way forward, beckoning you in.
Within the ink, you can see a faint, crimson glow. You see the blood trickling down from it. Hear the clack of footsteps approaching.
You stagger away as something emerges.
This is not like the other ghosts you have met. Though the eyes, crimson and bleeding all the same, tell you that this must be what it is...
This figure is not like the others. Its form, hunched over as if in pain, is stained an inky black, like nothing more than a shadow. Red markings decorate its body, and it seems to distort in more unnatural ways than the beings you'd seen before.
It blocks your way forward, staring down at you with bloody eyes. Looking closer, you see the blood trickling from where a human's ears would be, too- it seems to bleed from every opening of its face, you realize much too slowly.
The reds decorating its body are not markings.
You stumble back again as it reaches a hand forward, but... It isn't reaching towards you, you realize. It patiently holds it out, palm up, as if waiting for you to take its lead.
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"... Right this way," it speaks, and though you can read a calm tone in its voice, it is layered in heavy distortion, the baseline of an eerie melody echoing through the chamber with its words.
"The Champion is waiting."
In spite of the eeriness of the entire situation, that remark is somehow the one that leaves your jaw on the floor.
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britishassistant · 23 days ago
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The Little Golden Fox (3)
(A.k.a. A One Piece fan’s reincarnation into a Naruto AU.)
When the ink-thing comes off of her face, she doesn’t know where she is.
All around her is grey metal walls and pipes and floor, and figures the same size as her in white animal-like masks and dark cloaks.
Mayu is in her grey nightie with yellow and blue flowers all over it.
She likes it usually, when she gets to sleep in it.
Not so much when it’s the only thing she’s wearing in front of a room full of masked strangers.
She tries to struggle against the mask holding on tight to her shoulders, but her hands are bound behind her back with something cold and oddly slick. Her ankles have the same substance acting as a chain between them.
A flash of color catches her attention.
One of the other masks has Rock Lee slung under one arm, his braid drooping down, small black specks crawling over his face and green and white striped pajamas.
“Lee!” Mayu cries, twisting and bucking to try and escape, to reach him. “Put him down! Let him go, you, you shitty jumped-up—!”
“Why should they?” Comes a creaking voice. “He is a ninja of Konohagakure. To be welcomed into our ranks will be the greatest honor he will ever receive.”
Mayu looks to see an old man with a cross-shaped scar on his chin, and bandages covering one of his eyes. Both of his hands rested on a wooden cane.
“It will certainly be better than being indoctrinated by foreign scrap, poisoning his mind against the Leaf.” The old man looks at her like she’s something foul he found on one of his shoes. “Iron snuffing out his Will of Fire.”
Mayu gapes at him. “Wh—wait, is that what’s happening?! You don’t like that my family’s not from here, so you kidnap us?! Otou-sama and Okaa-sama haven’t even told Lee yet, let alone started any of the adoption process! And why am I here then, if you hate ‘foreign scrap’ so much?!”
The old man tilts his head. A cruel smirk plays on his lips. “The skills you possess, and those you have the potential to can be best put to use for the village, rather than wasted in obscurity.”
Mayu initially can do nothing but gape in the face of this hypocrisy.
And then, she promptly begins employing every single swear word she’s ever learned in this life and the last.
“Enough!” The old man eventually manages to shout over her.
The mask behind her has bite marks on their fingers from where they’d been shoved into Mayu’s mouth as an impromptu gag.
His glare has grown more rancid. “That crude mouth of yours will be fixed along with the rest. Fū.”
One of the others steps forward. The mask is removed.
A boy with reddish hair and golden eyes stares at her, expressionless. No matter where she looks, he constantly maintains eye contact.
A cold dread slithers down Mayu’s spine and she tries to turn her head away.
The mask behind her uses their grip on her mouth to force her head back, and peels her eyelids open with the fingers of their other hand.
The redheaded boy begins moving his hands into shapes that seem purposeful. Shapes that Mayu doesn’t want to recognize.
She lets out a terrified whimper.
There’s a growl that crescendos into a scream.
The redheaded boy grunts as a small blur barrels into his leg at the knee, doing its best to claw and tear.
He tries his best to keep going with his hand signs, but when the wet ripping sounds start even his fingers flinch and spasm as he screams.
Mayu remembers a story from her old life, of a Spartan boy who hid a baby fox in his tunic and lied to his elders about it until he dropped dead from the fox eating its way into his guts.
She wonders absentmindedly if she should’ve paid more attention to the lesson she was meant to learn from it.
The redheaded boy finally kicks the yellow blur away, falling back as his savaged leg is unable to support his weight.
Naruto, red coating his maw, growls and barks furiously at him and at the other masks around them.
He tries to lunge for the one holding Mayu, whose hand finally leaves her mouth to go for a weapon.
The end of the cane slams into his little body, knocking him away.
Mayu cries out as the old man advances, seizing Naruto’s tail.
“A summon?” He sneers as he lifts the hapless fox into the air. “How fitting, that one such as you would contract with vermin like—?!”
The old man stares at the spiral on Naruto’s belly.
Hoarse, croaking laughter fills the room.
“The Jinchuuriki!” The old man crows. “After all this time! Vanished under Hiruzen’s foolish nose, sealed away into a fox, of all things!! And now…now, I can—!”
“Let him go!” Mayu shouts, twisting against the mask’s grip.
The old man looks at her. A cruel smile spreads across his face.
“Let it go?” He chuckles as his hand reaches for his head. “No, my child. I shall do what is best for all of Konoha. I shall do what I must to get rid of the twin pests plaguing it.”
He pulls the bandages off of his face.
The eye under them glows bright red as it spins.
“I,” The old man hisses as his eye turns on the little golden fox. “Shall Let It Out.”
For a moment, as he looks at Naruto, nothing happens.
Then Naruto begins to squirm. Whimpers become growls become pained-sounding yipes and yowling.
The air feels like it’s boiling, swimming in front of Mayu’s eyes. It’s hard to see Naruto’s small yellow form through the heat haze, especially when the room flares an angry orange-red.
The old man laughs, and laughs, and laughs, even as the masks around him begin to edge away or pull out weapons.
Then the energy explodes outwards.
For the second time in seven years, the malevolent chakra of Kyuubi-no-Kitsune unleashed floods the village.
Mayu blinks back to awareness with a sheet of metal pressing down on her.
When she sits up and shoves it off, she finds she was lying on the masked boy who was holding her.
His mask is broken now, and his pale skin seems wan. She can feel him breathing, but she drags him out and props him up against some of the more stable looking rubble just in case.
The night air outside is cold and she shivers, looking up at the walls of the crater where this underground facility where she and Lee were brought used to be.
Lee. Lee!
She starts franticly shoving metal and rebar off of any body-shaped lumps, pulling the masked and semi-masked figures to safety before she keeps searching.
When she finds the old man’s body, more smushed than whole, she doesn’t pull it out.
She kicks one of its miraculously intact feet, gags at the sensation of rapidly-cooling flesh, and keeps looking.
Finally, finally, after she hefts away some metal and props up the rocks, she finds Lee curled up in a small cavity.
It takes all of her strength to haul him out to a space where nothing will crush them. There are black splotches all over him, like crushed insects, but otherwise he looks more dusty than hurt.
She tilts her head over Lee’s mouth, fingers pressed to his neck.
His breath whistles gently against her ear, pulse thumping strongly. As her hair brushes his face, his nose scrunches briefly.
She lets out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, slumping over his chest.
Thank Luffy. Thank Chopper, thank Ace, thank Zoro, thank Robin, thank everyone.
A monstrous rumble that shakes the crater has her looking up.
There, towering over them, is a burnished orange ghost of a creature. Its limbs are long and cruel. Its teeth are red-rimmed black and as tall as Mayu is. It has nine tails. It is staring at something she can’t see, muzzle curving into a furious snarl.
Floating in its belly, so tiny as to almost be invisible, is a yellow speck of a fox.
Its little body cringes and twitches as the beast moves, as if in the throes of a nightmare.
Mayu doesn’t think.
She stands and runs and begins to clamber up the sides of the crater after the thing that’s hurting her friend.
“Hey!” She shouts, picking up a piece of stone. “HEY!! Give Naruto back!!”
The rock bounces harmlessly off of the tailed beast’s see-through flank. It seems so small against its bulk that it’s hard to believe that it could ever have an impact.
But the beast stops.
It turns.
Its eyes, wet red pearls of malice, train on her with all the intensity of a gun barrel.
She can’t get away in time.
The grip around her body is crushing, grinding her bones together with its force.
Lifting her up to its face forces her to endure rushing winds that feel like they’ll shear her face off.
It’s a struggle not to be sick once it has her held aloft, so many thousands of meters into the air.
“You.” The beast rumbles, its voice ringing tinnitus in her ears like a speaker set too loud. “You are the one who kept us. Tried to tame us, like a pet.”
“No I didn’t!” Mayu protests, trying not to squirm so she doesn’t get dropped. “Naruto was hungry so I fed him! It’s what Sanji would do!”
Incorporeal lips pull back over those giant teeth. “I have spent too long listening to lies peddled by humans who think themselves too clever for me. Let me tell you a secret, little human: I. Am. Sick. Of it.”
She’s hit with intense vertigo as the hand (paw?) she’s being held in moves and flexes, until she’s staring at the lights of the village she lives in.
She feels distinctly queasy when she notes how close they are. Close enough to hear a high, fluting birdsong.
“Finally.” The creature rasps. “Finally, after all these years, after everything I have been forced to endure, I can have my vengeance. I can make them pay for what they have done to me, the indignities they forced me to suffer!”
The wrist flexes again, and Mayu finds herself paralyzed in the gaze of something older and angrier than she could ever hope to be. “All I need do to be free is break the will of my container and subsume him into my being. Killing you will be more than enough to accomplish that.”
“Wait wh—gnhk!” Her shout is cut off by the feeling of the grip on her tiny body tightening.
“Give thanks to the Great Sage, little human. Your death, at least, shall be quick.”
The pressure around her body increases sharply, forcing a shriek from her mouth.
She’ll die like this. She doesn’t want to die. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, she doesn’t, she—!!
There’s a thumb in front of her face.
Ketsugi Mayu blinks because both of her arms are pinioned to her sides in the beast’s grip.
There’s a whispery giggle next to her ear, and the sound of teeth snapping shut.
Mayu leans forward and, following the cue she’s been given, bites into the knuckle.
Hard.
It tastes sweaty, bloody from where her teeth broke skin and pierced muscle and cracked bone, and feels…rubbery.
She blows with all the force her little lungs can muster.
The Kyuubi-no-Kitsune watches, astounded, as a hand and arm ballon into existence from the tiny human’s mouth and just. keep. Growing.
Say what you will about faith, but sometimes when you believe in something with enough love and devotion…
Well. Sometimes, it’ll want to return the favor.
“GEAR THIRD! GOMU GOMU NO GIGANTO PISTOL!!”
The only downside of the nine tailed beast getting walloped in the face by a gigantic fist is that it lets go of Mayu at the force of the blow.
Hundreds of feet up in the air.
The wind rips her screams from her as she plummets, tumbling wildly in free fall.
She shuts her eyes as the ground gets closer and closer—!
She bounces.
As if she’s somehow landed on a trampoline, she bounces back into the air, once, twice, before sliding to the ground in an undignified heap.
There’s a pressure like hands on her shoulders, trying to urge her up, away from the beast—
“Wait!” She begs the empty air around her. “Pl-please, wait. I, I know it’s really scary, but. But my friend’s inside that thing. I can’t run away and let it hurt him.”
The pressure pauses. There’s a sensation of anticipation around her.
“If, if it’s not too much trouble.” Mayu licks her lips, before lowering herself into the proper dogeza her mother taught her. “Please, please help me. I can’t save him on my own, I’m, I’m not strong enough. And I know you aren’t heroes, but please. Please. He’s my friend.”
For one awful, awful moment, there’s nothing. No one.
And then she feels a large, warm hand scruff through her hair, smells salt-spray and sun-baked skin and cherry blossoms and cola and tangerines and cigarette smoke.
The hands on her shoulders are trembling much more than they were before, but they push her onwards towards where the beast has regained its footing, and is howling its rage.
Ketsugi Mayu runs on bare feet, heedless of the debris scratching her to ribbons, urged on by hands at her back and hooves at her side and the cry of “SUUUUPER!” in her ears.
Ketsugi Mayu runs as fast as she can, heedless of the balls of dark energy which thunder down around her, destroying illusions made of humidity and color and hands that disperse into flower petals.
Ketsugi Mayu runs through burning lungs and a stitch in her side, heedless of the massive claws that only don’t rend her in two when they’re caught on invisible blades.
Ketsugi Mayu runs until she is beneath the wonky spiral on the beast’s belly, until an energy that is not her own flows through her limbs, until she lets out a shout that reverberates with another’s voice as she kicks upwards.
“ANTI-MANNERS KICK COURSE!!”
The Kyuubi-no-Kitsune soars into the air.
The curves of the seal snap into their proper place.
The demonic chakra vanishes.
The little golden fox in the middle of it all twists and glows and grows—
A little boy, with vivid blond hair, six whisker marks on his cheeks, a proper spiral on his belly, completely stark naked, begins to fall.
Ketsugi Mayu uses several swear words that have even her gods looking at her askance.
Her past life tells her that putting herself under the falling boy will probably just hurt her along with him, that he’ll probably be dead anyway even if she does catch him, that there’s no way to save him—!
Her legs propel her forwards, arms outstretched as she races gravity.
They collide.
They tumble, bouncing off rubble and masonry, and collapsing into a sorry bruised heap.
The boy blinks his blue, blue eyes open to see a bloody and battered girl staring up at him in horror.
Her eyes fill with tears. Both of her hands cover her face with a resounding slap.
“YOU’RE—YOU’RE NARUTO!” She wails.
This is how Rock Lee finds the two of them.
A naked blond boy blinking owlishly at Mayu, on her back with one leg deeply bruised and swollen, sobbing her little heart out.
“Mayu-chan!” He cries, rushing to his friend’s side. “What happened?! Are you hurt?! Where, where are we, who—?”
“HE’S NARUTO!!” Mayu bawls. “HE-HE WAS A FOX AN’ AN’ THEN HE—THAT GUY WAS SO MEAN AN’ I WANTED TO SAVE MY FRIEND, BUT, BUT—”
As she trails off into incoherent blubbering, Lee comes to a decision.
“We-we need to get back to the village!” He declares. “Chie-oba-san and Jirou-oji-san will know what to do…and, and if they don’t we can ask Mizuki-sensei, or Iruka-sensei! Yosh! Mayu-chan, can you stand?”
It soon becomes very clear from the way her leg buckles and sags, and her feet are bleeding freely that no, Mayu cannot.
The naked human Naruto makes a small noise of distress and moves closer.
Both children immediately avert their eyes.
“We need to get him some clothes.” Mayu decrees. “Immediately.”
Lee nods in agreement. “Indeed.”
With a quickness that is only mildly worrying, Lee promptly strips off his pajama pants, leaving him in the striped button-up top and…
“What is that?!” Mayu yelps.
Lee looks down at his choice of undergarments. “It is a fundoshi, Mayu-chan. Have you never…?”
Mayu scrunches her eyes shut with a furiously embarrassed whine.
“…Otou-sama wears one.”
Lee beams brightly. “Ah! I am glad to know that Jirou-oji-san too is a man of youth and vigor!”
“Can we please,” Mayu begs. “Go home and never talk about my dad’s underwear again?”
And so, after a complex series of negotiations to get the human Naruto to wear pants, they set off in odd little troupe.
Mayu is carried on Lee’s back as he walks, with Naruto holding onto a sleeve of her nightie and trotting next to them.
After they make their way out of the crater, it’s a much smoother journey to pick their way through the partially decimated forest back through the village gates.
They’ve been left ajar for some reason.
“Where is everyone?” Mayu mumbles, fighting desperately against exhaustion.
“I…am not sure.” Lee admits, with a quaver in his voice.
Then, suddenly, he perks up.
“Ah! There—shinobi-san! Shinobi-san, we need help, my friend, she’s, she’s injured!”
He begins jogging towards the people he’s spotted with Naruto in tow, as Mayu watches the red and white fans painted on these walls flash by.
She turns her head to peer over Lee’s shoulder at whoever he’s found.
One of them looks fairly normal. A slim young man with long hair, wearing the clothes of the people she usually tries to ignore in the village.
But the other one with him? The man in the orange mask, wearing a black cloak with red clouds on it?
Oh, Mayu doesn’t trust him at all.
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youremineimyoursloveme · 25 days ago
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lowkey.
a relationship and its duration is like seasons.
thinks about- every single season has a part of falling in love, right?
lets starts with falling in love itself, thats spring- the blooming flowers, the blooming obsession for them? its where everything starts. it where the birds chirp, adjacent to the spasms, and melody in your own soul. the voices that call for the one you adore. the flowers all colors, representing all thing different things you love about them. the weather, sunny, with a breeze. and you're so happy- happy like the sun, and carefree like the wind that could never have a set direction. does it? no. the wind does what it wants, just like you do in this period. you pour your soul out to this person, because of how much you desire them, and want them, your insides bloom.
summer. this is the period where you are in a relationship. the comfort of a beach, the connectin of the bright sun. you feel harmonized with this person. the energy and excitement has died down, but the love has grown. its the modeling of a sandcastle. how you mold yourself, how you mold each other to be different people. its change. its hot. things get steamy.but you are with your person, and it feel like a fresh breath of air. it feels like a wave of the ocean. its reality. ever moment, every splash of water remind you that this is real. you are in a relationship with this person. with your person. it has all the beauty of a bright sunset. the different colors, the different feeling you feel for you person, but at the end of the day, they all blend into one thing. all the feelings you feel for this person turn into one thing. utter love. a relationship.
autumn+fall. the breakup. the oh, so cruel time when you’re heart is broken. its gets cold. it gets dark. the color fades. the breeze picks up. but its not carefree anymore, its wild. summer turned to fall. happiness turned to misery. you’re losing yourself. the sun keeps hiding behind the clouds, your happiness keeps hiding, its still there, but you cant feel it, you cant see it, cant find it. what happened? they left you. so did your love. they fell out of love with you the way the leaves fall from the trees. slowly, then all at once. each leaf, each colored leaf, each memory they made with you falls. and the bright colors, fade out. just like that memory. as it falls, is loses the love that it was created through. then they’re picked up, and thrown. and you’re heart is bare, like the trees in autumn breeze. so bare, so fragile, so broken and its messy. you feel so messy because all the leaves are scattered everywhere, and no matter how many time you rake them up, and try to throw them away, they come back. the mess, the memories of them. the ones that lost their color. you lost them. and now? you’re losing yourself too.
and finally, winter. this is when you are cold. over them, but you have given up on love. is the period in life, where you believe you don't need anyone, or anything. when you realize that all snowflakes are not alike, you realize how many more possibilities there are. how many more better choices you would have made, and that haunts you. you don't want to it anymore. fall in love, realize you messed up, and then come face to face with all the other options you had. all the opportunities you missed. you’re so cold. because that one experience sucked out all the love from you’re heart- or maybe, they were the warmth. and they left you. each bare tree, covered in snow, is a painful resemblance of your cold heart. cold and, used, and abused, and bare, and vulnerable. just one thing might tip you off now. one blow, one word, one, one one. the frost spreading on your heart growing more and more with each snowflake, each memory, each possibility of your life. it hurts. everything does.
and it goes on, and on, and on, and on.
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