#and then i got burned so bad i refused to watch any treks

[weepylucifer]

Hey I’m really sorry if this is a really weird thing to find in your Ask box, but I saw that you tagged a really nice gif of Hugh hugging Picard (and I’ll admit I haven’t seen the show because I can’t watch Hugh die), and you said that Picard let him die and that he said “He got what was coming to him.” Is that true? Please tell me it isn’t. I’m really sorry. I’ve been really attached to Hugh ever since I discovered him, and if Picard said that about a person who died trying to protect his whereabouts I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Well it was all very sloppily written, and not really doing Picard's characterization any favors, which is why I'm pretty confident in saying that I consider the writing throughout the Picard show to be largely incompetent. Like, the Hugh arc in season one was not intentionally written to make Picard look like someone who lets his friends die and then shrugs it off, this was all just a result of an uncoordinated writers room rushing through tying plot threads together with little deep thought about them.

What happened is this:

Picard teleported out of the Hugh situation to Riker and Troi's home, knowingly leaving Hugh and Elnor stranded with a bunch of dangerous Romulan cultists who want to kill them. Picard then spends the rest of the episode eating pizza and reminiscing with Riker and Troi and never even mentioning the two people he just left in a life-threatening situation (especially weird since such a big deal was made about Picard caring about Elnor earlier in the season). Hugh has to watch some of the former Borg he tried to rehabilitate from the Collective die because he refuses to reveal, indeed, Picard's whereabouts. Hugh gets angry about this and attempts to activate the dormant Borg cube they're on to fight the Romulan cultists, who by the by have been treating him and the other former Borg as subhuman scum for years. He gets stabbed and dies before he can do so.

Later, in the season finale, Picard hears about this. He says, "Poor Hugh, it must have taken appalling brutality to turn such a gentle soul to violence" and moves on with his day. So, he doesn't say "He had it coming", verbatim, but to me it kind of sounded like the implication was "Well, Hugh got violent, and so he was killed for lashing out. Eh. Too bad. Moving on,"

It unintentionally leaves us with this kinda gross messaging that if you stand up to systemic oppression, and your oppressors kill you, you were in the wrong for "turning to violence" and it's obvious that you can expect to be killed. Earlier in the season, Hugh and the former Borg were used to represent people who are ostracized, marginalized, looked down on, and even systematically slaughtered by everyone else in the galaxy for things they couldn't help (seeing as no one chooses to get assimilated by the Borg, the crimes of the Borg are no individual former drone's fault, they are victims, not monsters). This concept of Borg rehabilitation was huge and felt like an amazing step forward in the Star Trek universe! My favorite part of the show by far! But the writers had no idea what to do with this sideplot and clearly had bitten off more than they could chew. This is such a huge concept with so much potential that it could well be the focus of a whole show, but they burned the idea on a side-plot in a season that was actually about androids. So they had no idea how to tie this plot up and therefore ended it in the worst way possible: with everyone involved dying for no reason and none of the main characters caring about it at all. So yeah

Basically the way he's characterized in this show made Picard go from my favorite captain to "fuck this bald bitch" so... I'm trying my best now to just ignore that the whole show exists

[lonely-night]

if I had a nickel for every time I start getting into a trek show and ship a f/f age-gap pairing that is being viewed as mother/daughter relationship, I’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. 

[clairenatural]

look at you, strawberry blond

destiel, 1.8k. pining, fluff, growing up together, etc! minor character/parental death, vague mention of John’s A+ Parenting. based on the mitski song  (this is a repost because the first one got deleted)

I love everybody because I love you

Castiel first learns what love is when he’s eight years old and Gabriel, sixteen, is grumbling about driving an hour out of his way to find his girlfriend the rare chocolates she likes for Valentine’s day.

“Why?” he asks his older brother, and Gabriel sighs, melodramatic as always.

“That’s love, little bro. Remembering the little things and then putting in the time to make it happen.”

Cas thinks about when he told Dean his parents don’t let him eat candy. He thinks about how Dean has given him half his Kit Kat bar every day for the last year.

He thinks about the time he scraped his knee falling off the jungle gym and Dean spent the rest of recess picking dandelions to make him feel better. Yellow is his favorite color.

“Oh.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Cassie. Love is about sacrifice, and commitment--” he goes on, but by the time Michael cuts him off, yelling from his office that you’ve only been dating for two months, Gabriel, stop preaching to Castiel, Cas has already sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom.

A broken piggy bank, $1.50 in pocket change, and several pleas to Gabriel later, and Castiel tucks a king-sized Kit Kat into Dean’s valentine box.

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

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

It’s eight years later, one summer in high school, when Castiel realizes that there’s a difference between loving and being in love, and that he is, in fact, in love with his best friend.

He realizes this as he watches Dean walk away, sandals discarded and unnecessary in the soft grass, back to the picnic tables to get them both more fruit punch. It’s the annual junior class picnic, the official welcome to being upperclassmen, and the August sun casts a warm glow over Dean’s freckles, and Castiel knows.

Two seconds later, he watches Dean nearly get hit by an errant frisbee and completely forget his punch mission in lieu of playfully tackling its thrower, Benny Lafitte. He watches Lisa Braden, giggly and glowing and perfect as always, yelp as she’s almost caught in the crossfire, and Dean winks at her as he releases Benny.

He swallows thickly and turns his attention back to the patch of grass they’d been laying in, flattened where Dean had been just a few moments before. He wishes he hadn’t come to this particular realization.

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached

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

I love everybody because I love you I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

Castiel goes to college in Chicago and pretends like the two-hour drive between them doesn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t, until Dean’s father gets a job back in Kansas halfway through his freshman year. Dean goes with him even though he’s an adult because the alternative is letting Sam deal with John alone, so Castiel spends most of that summer in Lawrence, dodging both his friends in the big city and his family back in Pontiac. He tells them all that he’s studying Kansas’ role in the Civil War, assisting in research back at the University, but he and Dean spend two months going on road trips with Sam.

His sophomore year John dies and Castiel flies back for the weekend, explaining his sudden departure as a family emergency and getting an extension on two papers. Dean holds his hand at the funeral but won’t look him in the eyes for two hours after, even as he refuses to leave Castiel’s side.

The boys move in with Bobby but that summer Dean shows up in Chicago, explanations lined up about not worrying about Sam anymore and wanting to see what about the city made Cas keep coming back. Castiel gets an internship and pretends like that was the plan all along. He quietly cancels his plane tickets to South Dakota.

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape I picture it, soft, and I ache

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

Reach out the car window, trying to hold the wind You tell me you love her; I give you a grin

Dean stays in Chicago. He moves into Castiel’s empty room when his original roommate moves out, he finds work at an auto shop, and he starts taking mechanic classes at a community college. Castiel isn’t sure why—he doesn’t want to ask. Afraid to look the gift horse in the mouth and risk having his happiness bitten off.

Then Dean starts talking about a girl. Then Castiel meets the girl, Cassie Robinson, and it all makes sense.  

He pretends it doesn’t sting every time Dean brings her up, that the way his face lights up doesn’t burn, that he doesn’t feel physically ill the first time he meets her.

By the time Dean tells him he’s in love, gushing about Cassie in a way eerily reminiscent of Gabriel twelve years earlier, it’s turned into a dull ache that Castiel has mostly contained in the back of his chest. They’re on their way to Cassie’s apartment, the first stop on their way to a cabin spring break of their junior year, and the ache is suddenly threatening to break through his ribcage.

But the sun is warm on his cheek, and the radio is playing a soft summer soundtrack, so Castiel allows Dean’s happiness to wash over him long enough to forget who—or, more importantly, who isn’t—causing it. He grins at his best friend before turning his gaze back out the passenger window of the Impala.

Oh all I ever wanted was a life in your shape So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines, Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

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

Look at you, strawberry blond

Dean and Cassie break up, and Dean drinks for a month, but Castiel getting into Stanford for grad school distracts him just long enough to go back to normal (a normal that does not involve thinking about how Dean nearly kissed him when they were both drunk the night he got his acceptance).

This new normal involves staring graduation in the face, and California beyond that, and moving out of his Chicago apartment somewhere in this middle, which also involves coming to terms with moving away from Dean.

Until Sam gets his own acceptance to Stanford a few months later. Then Dean starts sending him links to two-bedroom apartments, and using “we” when talking about the move, and looks just as confused as Castiel when he asks about it.

“Well, yeah. I mean, with you gone, and now Sam—You thought you were going by yourself?”

And even though Castiel vaguely thinks this is a bad idea, and living with his best friend who he’s been in love with for his entire memory had been hard enough for the two years they’d been doing it, he can’t say no. Because every time he gets up the nerve to say something Dean calls him over and shoves his laptop into Castiel’s face, talking about hiking trails and flower fields and front lawns and dogs, and that quells any doubt he had.

They move to Palo Alto, into a townhouse with a lawn and a communal garden. Dean adopts a golden retriever.

Fields rolling on, I love it when you call my name

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

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm? Watching your arm

Two months into Castiel’s first year of graduate school they have a picnic, taking advantage of the lingering warmth of the California fall. Sam is off in the field playing with Zeppelin, obviously having used the ‘come meet my brother’s dog’ excuse to invite the pretty blonde woman (Jess?) chasing the golden with him. Dean is rambling about Star Trek and Castiel is paying half attention, the majority of his focus on the reading in front of him because professors don’t consider picnics an extension-worthy excuse.

He’s just started to get invested when he hears a yelp and looks up to see Dean Winchester, his best friend, most trusted confidant and the possible love of his life, swatting a bumblebee. Cas gasps, reading forgotten, and lunges across the picnic blanket to grab Dean’s wrist. “Dean.” He chastises, and Dean gives him a look.

“It’s a bee, Cas.”

“It’s a bumblebee, which are essential—”

“To our ecosystem, yeah, but it’s pretty essential to me that it doesn’t sting me.”

“It won’t sting you if you don’t swat at it.”

“You didn’t see the look on it, man. It meant business.”

“Bees are attracted to sugar. You probably just smell good.”

Dean grins. “You calling me sweet, Cas?”

And, well, no. He isn’t. He’s talking about the empty pie tin next to Dean. But the words make him realize just how close they are, how far he’d moved into Dean’s space in his efforts to stop his hand, how the force of the movement had pushed Dean almost back onto his elbows.

He opens his mouth to respond the way he usually does to Dean’s cavalier flirting, but the words don’t leave his mouth—which is, somehow, he swears, closer to Dean’s than it was a second ago. Just as Castiel is preparing to push back, clear his throat, and add this moment onto a growing list of almost-but-not-quite moments stretching back years, Dean sucks in a breath and closes the gap.

Castiel reacts before his brain can fully comprehend what’s going on, bypassing any shock entirely and kissing Dean back immediately. He lets go of his wrist, instead bringing his hand to the side of Dean’s face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Dean pushes himself back up and wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, pulling him essentially into his lap, and then they’re kissing, and Dean smells like summer and tastes like apple pie, and Castiel suddenly understands more than ever why bees are always buzzing around him.

It feels like a lifetime until it’s over, until they’re just staring at each other and out of breath, both scared to say anything and break the magic they’d accidentally created. The silence is only broken by a shout from across the grass, followed shortly by a tennis ball that nearly misses them, followed by 65 pounds of golden retriever that does not miss them and nearly topples Castiel in his pursuit of the ball. And then Sam comes running after the dog, still shouting—apologies, this time—and then there’s Jess, laughing hysterically, and then Castiel has to scramble out of the way because Zeppelin has made a U-turn, interpreting the whole commotion as a game of keep-away.

Dean meets his eye above the chaos and grins, and the sunlight hits his dirty blonde hair, and it’s so breathtaking Castiel almost forgets to smile back.

I love it when you look my way.

[parjiljehavey]

this isn’t where we intended to be

A/N: Because we don’t know the details of how Boba survived the Sarlacc, I hand waved it. Am I shamelessly blending Legends into this? Yep. Don’t stop me now, I’m having a good time! 

I also forgot to mentioned that the titles are lyrics from You Must Love Me. Madonna or Lana Del Rey, both are valid and full of feels.

Tagging: @escapedthesarlacc​, @silverfish-kingdom​, @shadowfoxey​, @fresa-luna​

Rating: T for Teen

Content Warnings: Angst, Bad Spy/Military jargon and descriptions, Boba Is Pining, We got some Surprise Appearances at the end.

PREVIOUS // NEXT

ix.

The first thing the Imperials did after setting up their garrison was confiscate any weapons. They searched house by house, apartment by apartment. The only things they didn’t take were the kitchen knives. You were lucky enough that the panic room Boba built was hidden from almost every scanner imaginable, leaving the armory Boba had on this world unseized. 

Jekiah had chosen then to wail his little heart out from the bedroom, announcing his anger that his noon meal was being delayed to all who could hear. It took everything in you to not laugh when the stormtroopers and the scrawny little officer with them flinched. 

There was a diner around the corner from the apartment that you had started frequenting because you had became obsessed with their milkshakes during your pregnancy. The twi’lek that owned it was an older woman with long lekku she draped around her neck who carried herself in a way that you recognized. 

It was Sinya’s diner that the locals gathered in afterhours to discuss the Imperial occupation a month after the weapons has been taken. The blinds were shut, casting the room in near darkness except for the dim green glow of the menu signs.

Jekiah was strapped to your chest, content to sleep against your breast while voices rose when someone in the diner proposed fighting back against the Empire. A raucous arose as all attending agreed. 

Sinya spoke up, “We’ll need to run reconnaissance to get a better idea of their numbers and the heat they’re packing.”

You should have kept your mouth shut and your head down, if only for Jekiah’s sake. It’s what Boba would have wanted you to do; with few exceptions, when did you ever do what Boba wanted? 

“I can take care of that.” Heads turned and the crowd parted to stare at you, a woman with her baby. Sinya looked at you, and you looked at her. A tattooed brow was raised.

“You sure?” She gestured to Jekiah. 

You looked down at your son, rubbing your thumb over his dark downy hair. He nestled his face further against your breast, seeking out your heartbeat. 

“Yes. I am.”

x.

He had woken up with the gritty taste of sand in his mouth, his skin burning and itching, and his armor missing. Shab’la Jawas.

It was the Sand People, who had ultimately rescued him and tended to the wounds he’d gained from the Sarlacc. He wasn’t able to translate what they were saying without his buy’ce, but he was able to communicate enough with them with the sign language that any hunter worth their spit learned when they spent enough time chasing targets through the sands of Tatooine. 

He was given clothing and weapons once he was well enough to leave, and went on his way to begin the long trek back to Jabba’s palace. He had no doubt that anything that wasn’t nailed down had already been taken after news of the Hutt’s death had spread. Boba was confident that the Slave I was still where he had left it when he arrived. 

Sure enough, the Firespray-31 was still there. Usually, he’d lower the ramp through his HUD, however, lacking his armor, Boba had to use the security code. It hadn’t changed in decades; he had it memorized. Accessing the security logs, Boba cursed.

It’d been five months since he left you heavily pregnant in his safehouse. 

Fierfek.

xi.

A week after the meeting, you left Jekiah with your neighbor, two older women who had cooed over Jekiah ever since you’d come back from the medical center. Jekiah had learned how to cling to your shirt and had refused to let go, right up until a brightly colored nexu plush entered his field of vision. He’d been entranced with the neon pink toy and had let go easily after that. 

The Zabrak grinned, “One of our nephew’s old toys. He won’t miss it.”

Returning to the apartment, you opened the panic room. Weapons lined the wall, far out of reach of a child and a case held your gear. The armorweave long coat and pants you had once worn regularly were a little too tight across your belly and hips, but thankfully, you still had mobility. You could handle this small discomfort; it was nothing compared to the later stages of your pregnancy and Jekiah’s birth. 

You attached the stealth generator to your belt, making double sure it’d stay there with tape. Next went on your boots, and then your visor, followed by your gloves and gauntlets. 

The gloves had been a gift from Boba; “They’d been outlawed in the Mandalore system for centuries,” he had said, “but I figured you’d appreciate these in your arsenal.” 

Another gift had been the heavy, matte black gauntlets. The wristblade had utterly delighted you. You’d asked Boba what they were made of that made them so heavy. His answer had been beskar. It had taken you some time to learn how to fight with them on, something Boba had helped you with. You had ended up with more bruises than he had, some more pleasurable than others. 

An ache in your chest came up and a lump formed in your throat. You swallowed around it and pushed on. You had a job to do.

You ran a systems’ check twice, ensuring that your vitals read correctly and the targeting system was accurately linked to your rifle. Happy with the results, you activated the stealth generator, and made your way out of the apartment building entirely. You kept to the shadows of alleyways and near cover. 

Following a returning patrol, you infiltrated the Imperial garrison.

xii.

He’d elected to shave off the rest of his hair; most of it was already gone, the Sarlacc’s digestive acid killed the hair follicles. He inspected his wounds; no matter how primitive the Tuskens may be, they’d done a good job at patching him up. The wounds that were still healing he covered with a bacta-patch. 

It had been a difficult decision, but, Boba had chosen to pursue his missing armor. He knew you’d understand why he didn’t immediately return; it was his father’s armor. You’d be furious with him, more than likely banish him from bed, but you’d understand. 

It didn’t stop the guilt gnawing at his gut. 

It didn’t stop him from waking up expecting to feel his arm asleep from you laying on it to curl against his chest or feel your cold feet pressed against his legs. 

xiii.

Over the next two weeks, you infiltrated the garrison several more times gathering information on troop movements and supply routes. There was more than one garrison on the planet; as soon as news spread to the others, they’d be swarming like flies on a carcass. This was going to be a hard and dirty fight. 

You said as much at the next meeting in Sinya’s. 

“If we are going to do this, we're going to need more numbers than what we have.” 

A large Nikto stepped forward. “Mercenaries? Lady, we ain’t got the money for that!” 

Sinya was watching you from behind the counter. She nodded at you.

“Let me worry about the money. As soon as the mercenaries are planetside, start bringing the people from smaller towns and the farms inside.”

xiv.

Finding Sandcrawlers was easier from the air; it’d take months to traverse Tatooine on foot. He stopped in Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, and Anchorhead intermittently as he needed supplies and fuel. He picked up scrap metals to barter with the Jawas for information. This routine continued until a priority alert came across. 

Liberation from Imperial Garrison. Boba’s stomach sunk.

There was no thinking as he plotted a course back to the planet. No other thought as the Slave I gained altitude. 

Just you.

xv.

Sinya had had her pegged as a hunter as soon as she had first walked in months ago. She always looked around, noting exits and entries. Standard merc behavior, Sinya remembers doing that before she retired; Goddess, she still did it. 

The bump on her belly made Sinya decide she wasn’t a threat. The delight she took in the milkshakes was endearing. Sinya had made sure that every time she saw her on the way in, a milkshake was already being blended. Especially when she started coming in with her baby boy strapped to her chest. That baby was the grumpiest little thing Sinya had ever seen. 

It was nice, Sinya decided, once everyone had left after the woman had reported back on her findings and it was decided that they did need mercenaries, to talk shop with someone who knew their stuff. Sinya missed the merc life somedays. 

Sinya listed off every large mercenary company that she knew was still in existence. Even Black Sun. 

“No,” She shook her head. “If the Imperials offer more, they’d switch sides. Even if they didn’t, it’d be another battle to get them off. We’d be trading one for the other. That’s a risk we can’t afford. We need people who hate the Imperials just as much, if not more then we do.” 

Sinya's tattooed brows furrowed. “Who are you thinking of?”

The woman smiled.

bonus

xvi.

He heard a low whistle from somewhere in the Oyu’baat when a priority alert popped up on the bounty board. The bartender fiddled with a control panel, enlarging the alert so it overtook other listings. It got Shysa’s attention, the Mand’alor dropping his feet off his table as he stood up. Noise died down until the only sound was the boloball game.

100,000 credits for every Mandalorian that signed up for the liberation of a small world out in the Outer Rim from the Empire. A 10,000 credit bonus was being offered for every piece of artillery that was brought in. Payment would be given from stocks, proprieties, or cold hard cash, per the contractor’s preference.

Osik. That was a lot of credits for a small world to be offering. He wondered where they were getting that kind of money. And it was specifically requesting Mandalorians. 

Shysa clapped his hands together, drawing attention away from the board and to himself. He climbed up on top of his table looking out over the crowd of Mando’ade. 

“Well, vode. Who wants to go kick the Imperials shebs again?”

Cheers of Oya rang out and Mird’ika howled as he pulled on his fine, gray gloves. 

[felidaefighter]

Softer Snow Than You Remember

[Hurt/Comfort, Phil & Ranboo]

“I’m leaving,” Ranboo says, “I’m moving out. For good. I shouldn’t be here.”

Ranboo isn’t helpless; he’s capable, he can do what he wants. Phil is aware of this. But he’s also aware of the shake in Ranboo’s voice, the familiar look in his eyes that means something is wrong and he’s not saying what.

There are a million things Phil could say, and a million reasons he shouldn’t. The truth is too complex to be spoken-- how is he supposed to voice what it means to him that this kid got so attached to an act of human decency that he swore an undying loyalty? How can he express that it’s not about replacement, it’s not about projecting, it’s about seeing someone respect you and look up to you and having something break inside when you realize they don’t have anyone? And it’s about the ensuing urge to protect them and teach them that follows this realization? How can he possibly tell this desperate, hurting kid that he only wants him to be happy?

The truth comes out before Phil can comprehend that he’s opened his mouth.

“You’re like a son to me, Ranboo.”

This definitely is not what Ranboo expected to hear. He freezes, trying to take in the information. “No,” he responds, and Phil’s heart aches at how ragged the kid’s voice is, “You’re only saying that because your son--”

“I’m not.” Phil interjects bluntly. “It’d be shitty if I was, but I’m not. If I wanted a replacement to project onto, it’d be Ghostbur here instead of you. That’s not how I see you, Ranboo. You’re your own person.” Ranboo needs steady certainty with no room for arguments when he’s spiraling; Phil knows this. He watches the expression on his face change from lost and bitter to confused and hurt. He speaks more softly.

“Back during L’Manberg, you were just a stranger who was nice to me after I was nice to you. Seeing how lost you were when we destroyed it, not from the destruction but from the people around you-- I thought maybe you could stay here a little while, and that’s it. But you...” Phil sighs, struggling to speak a truth he never wanted to admit in the first place. Oh well. Too late now. Ranboo listens patiently, mouth pursed, eyes watering.

“You had so much on your shoulders from all of this. We worked on the houses together and trained together and joked together and seeing you get even a little bit happier than you were in L’Manberg only made me want to see you happy even more. I just want you to be happy.”

He takes a moment, composes himself-- at least tries to. He’s more successful than Ranboo currently is. “You can leave, if you want to.” He speaks slow, steady, calculated. Keeps his voice even, soft but strong.

“No one is going to force you to stay. But you also don’t have to leave. No one is forcing you to leave, either. Techno and I are fully capable fighters, and between the three of us, if that’s what you’re worried about, we have an arsenal that could arm more people than we’d ever need to fight. We’re safe here, and we care about you. And,” Phil breathes, “I want you stay. The decision is yours, though. What do you really want to do, Ranboo?”

And Ranboo is shaking, small particles emanating from him as he sobs and his tears burn his cheeks.

“I want to stay,” He says-- a confession, a desperate cry for help-- “I want to stay.”

Phil moves on instinct, finding and uncorking a potion of healing. He pours some of the liquid on his fingertips and reaches up, gently wiping away the kid’s tears and healing the burns at the same time. Ranboo stutters something out, but Phil shushes him, and the tall hybrid eventually caves in and crouches so Phil can reach his face better, until the tears have stopped and the potion is gone.

“Thank you, Phil,” Ranboo says, voice hoarse and tired but with clarity seeping into his voice. “I just-- I just--”

“I know,” Phil says. Ranboo hiccups. Phil puts his parenting voice on without realizing it. “You’re not leaving on my watch though. Not when you feel backed into a corner and like you don’t have anyone to rely on. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Techno, although he’s definitely gonna be harder to wake up.” The kid lets out a small chuckle at that, and Phil feels his heart relax a little, feels the ache ease just the tiniest bit.

“Now! Let’s get you rehydrated, calmed down, and back to your place. Unless you don’t want to be alone, we could trek to Snowchester if you think Tubbo will be there, or you could visit Michael.” Ranboo lets Phil lead him around as he gets Ranboo something to drink and swats away the kid’s attempts to tidy up, but Ranboo pauses when they reach the door. It’s the tiniest moment of hesitance, but Phil catches these things.

He sighs; why do his children always refuse to assert themselves when they need help?-- though he’s also still rather taken aback at his own subconscious phrasing-- and instead, tells Ranboo to stay put for a moment. He rummages through his chests for a moment before finally pulling out a bedroll and some blankets so that the kid cannot possibly refuse on the basis on inconvenience. “Or you could just stay here,” Phil suggests. It’s not actually a suggestion so much as an approval of an unvoiced question.

“Is that... okay?” Ranboo asks as if he’s treading on glass, and Phil lightly baps the back of his head. “I wouldn’t’ve suggested it if it wasn’t!”

“That is true, that is true,” Ranboo acknowledges as he takes the pile from Phil. “I’ve got proper pillows upstairs,” Phil hums, “But it might get a bit cold since I don’t need it as warm as Techno.” He cackles a little. “He would hibernate even more if he didn’t have that fire going constantly.”

“Oh man. Is that even possible? I don’t mind the cold though! Besides, these are some heavy-duty blankets. I think it’ll be fine!” Phil smiles, feeling a little pride in himself as the kid perks up little by little. It’s the small things in life that you miss, but it’s also the small things you know to look out for and appreciate if you’re given the chance.

He doesn’t ask Ranboo what was wrong; the kid will tell him in time. What matters now is that he feels safe and knows there are people he can rely on. Phil refuses to let him down, refuses to let him be hurt and desperate any more than he already has been. He starts up the ladder as Ranboo wiggles into his blankets, and calls softly “I’ll be upstairs if you need me”; it’s met with Ranboo’s hum of acknowledgement.

There’s something familiar about it, and Phil expects the feeling to hurt, just as he expects the snow in the night to clatter against the windows like ice as it has before. Both are softer than he remembers. He takes a moment, to himself, to listen to quiet breathing become steady and soft as the hybrid falls asleep. It’s strange, to be looking after someone again. It’s not a second chance; that would imply many things, both good and bad, that simply aren’t true. But it’s nice. The night feels peaceful in a way it hasn’t in a long time. And the hybrid downstairs, safe in his blankets, does not sleepwalk.

[bestbouy]

Sick

By -Me! Person for: @rubystar2​ Summary: Ikor Isn’t feeling very well, But he thinks nothing of it, refusing to tell anyone. -Well, Until he collapses In the middle of Battle. Character Focus: Ikor (Ice herald), Riff (Fire Herald). (Other characters are mentioned) Warnings: idk how to spell ikor's tribe thingie, Or Riff's, And it's quite long. Don't judge me. I got carried away. Oh, and Riff has no clue how to make Eggs And Bacon. When Ikor first felt it, He was in the forest with the others Trying to find a shard of the Elestar. His head was Aching slightly, And he felt like he might fall over. at first, he just rubbed his head and brushed It off. Riff was talking a lot today. And that was that, Til tomorrow. The next day, He was feeling worse. His Headache was Bigger, he had a Stuffy nose now, And he wasn't looking so hot either. He looked like he was sick. He didn't notice. . . Or he didn't want too. Nobody else noticed, Not until the fifth day. Ikor figured out what was happening by now. He felt so *Cold*. he *never* Felt cold. He was an Icey! How was he *Cold?* He didn't want to Admit it. for all he knew, He was the first Icey to get sick like this! ~Third day, Morning~ Ikor was hobbling down the stairs, Yawning. He wasn't feeling great, As always. His head hurt anytime he tried to move- or think. He just felt so cold- "Good morning!" Ikor looked over and saw Riff sitting with Ao-ki, Trek and Eron. He attempted to look like he didn't Want to run back upstairs, surround himself in Pillows, and cry silently for the next Hour or two. "Hello Riff, good morning everyone." He responded. they all had their "Hello"s and "G'morning!"s. "How's it going, Icemen?" Riff asked. He sounded... A bit worried, But ikor was too stressed to care. "I'm fine. How are you today?" "I'm just great! Y'know, Fireys(?????) being the best, And all." Ikor snickered, Riff never missed a chance to sneak in how his tribe was the best. "Listen, we All know MY tribe is the best, Riff." Ikor said, and (Attempting not the stumble) He walked over and sat down next to him. Eron continued his ramble on about something, Something about a Wind shard in the wind realm, Something about ice cream or something? Ikor wasn't listening, He was to busy arguing with riff about Who's tribe was the best. "us Fireys have cool Dances! And crazy dangerous homes!" "Iceys are the best, We life Calculated and safe. And your "Cool dances" are quiet Stupid." "Hey! our dances are the coolest!" "Nuh-uh." "Yuh-huh!" "Oh yeah? well i think-" They where inturruped by a large BOOM as the ground shook underneith them. Ikor wobbled, And then tumbled to the ground. The shaking stopped, And Riff got up to help ikor up. "Woah! Ikor, You good?" Riff asked, Alarmed. "I'm fine, Thank you. What was that?" He asked. They ran outside, Ikor close behind Riff as they ran. It was Gredd, and it looked like he had a new power. Or something like that, Ikor was to distracted by that gosh darn HEADACHE! It hurt so much it was hard to focus. Riff seemed to notice Ikor's Struggle, So he turned to Ikor and said; "Don't worry, I got this Joker!" Riff exclaimed, And began to summon a Gormiti. Ikor just stood next to him as he did the whole "Elemental knights!" Thingie, You know. Ikor was just standing By, looking around and trying to look normal. As riff summoned Hurik, Gredd seemed to grin Wider. "Your Fire gormiti don't scare me Now, Herald!" He said, And with a shout of "Darkwave!" The fight was on. "Blastblaze!" Hurik shouted, the fire gormiti summoning his attack. Ikor noticed something. Something important. There was something... off about gredd's attack. It was more- Powerful? He didn't know, He was sure he miss saw. If only he did. The darkwave went straight through the Blastblaze, And hurik Dodged. "How is he this powerful?" Hurik shouted. "I quite like your elestar shards, Heralds!" Gredd shouted out, Summoning another darkwave. Then ikor saw it. one hand focussing attacks, and Gredd's other hand, Holding Two shards. Ikor was stunned, and not

long after he saw them, riff saw them too. Just as riff was distracted by the shards, Gredd had grinned evilly. with a shout of "Dark wave!", hurik was too weakened to do anything, So he put his hands up to shield himself. But gredd wasn't Aiming for hurik. Riff looked up, And saw it was heading right for him. He gasped, and right before it hit him, Right before he was taken care of . . . What happened? The dark wave Exploded on the target, and Dirt went up everywhere. As the smoke cleared, Gredd had not, in fact, Hit what he intended too. No, he hit a much more. . . Icey, target. Ikalos stood, Still as ice, His shield in hand and blocking the attack from gredd and smiling. "What do you think you're doing, Darken?" Ikor stood, Shaky as grass, Trying with all his might to keep in position. But it was hard, and he couldn't Focus well. As Ikalos Blocked and threw off attacks at Gredd, Ikor weakened and Weakened. How long did he have to do this? it was beginning to tire him. . . Ikor heard something. He ignored it, Head spinning. He felt like he needed to rest his eyes. Just for a second, Y'know? Close them, Open them, he'd feel soo much better if he just closed his eyes. Just for a second. just. . . For a. . . second . . . ? Riff's P.O.V When Ikalos blocked gredd's attack, Riff was almost down in tears. but instead, taking his chance, He scampered away. Moving towards ikor as he Focused on Ikalos. As ikalos threw attacks and blocked others, Riff reached ikor. "T-Thanks, Ikor. Guess icey's aren't as bad as i thought!" he laughed, Stumbling over to the Icey and grinning. Ikor didn't answer, So Riff slightly poked him. "Ikor? Gorm to Ikor? Sheesh, Maybe you icey's ARE bad." Riff snorted. Ikor still didn't reply. Instead, He had stumbled back, Closed his eyes, And fell straight over. Riff gasped, And the others ran over. "What happened to Ikor?" Ao-ki asked, worried. "I don't know! He just fell over!" "Did gredd do anything?" Trek asked "Not that i could see- He just- he-" Riff stumbled over his words, Looking at the unconscious Boi sadly. Trek looked over At ikalos and Gredd. "Wait! Guys, If ikor's Unconcious, He can't focus on Ikalos!" "Which means i will have an Easy Pickings!" Gredd laughed, Throwing a DarkWave and hitting Ikalos directly on the chest. "What happened to Ikor? He needs to focus or i can't fight!" Ikalos shouted at the others. "Uhm- We have a bit of a problem, Bud! He's kinda. . . Asleep?" "WHAT? If he's asleep, I can't-" Ikalos was cut short as an icicle when he quickly disappeared. Trek looked over at Gredd. "We need another gormiti!" he said quickly. "But gredd's got two ice shards! How're we gonna beat him?" "Hey!" Eron piped up. "Remember when we summoned all four of the Lords all that time ago?" "Yeah, Why? We can't summon a Lord,-" "Buuuuuut we can summon two Normal gormiti! I mean, It must be so much easier, And gredd can't focus on Two gormiti!" Riff paused, Looking at the others. "...It might just work." Ao-ki said finally. (Don't ask. don't ask why gredd's just been watching. you'll know why if you have ever watched gormiti. the pauses for convo's are so insane.) Trek and Eron stood up, Beginning to focus as Ao-ki and Riff carried Ikor inside the Tower. Riff assumed that they where successful, As he could them cheering as they got ikor inside and Laying down. Riff took a better look at Ikor. "Sheesh, He looks terrible. How long has he been like this?" "He's sick. I'd say he's had the cold for awhile. . ." Ao-ki explained. "Well why the howling didn't he tell us about that?! That's like, Super important!" "I don't know, But hopefully when he wakes up he'll provide an answer." Ao-ki said. "Hopefully. . ." A little while later, Eron and Trek came back in, Looking exausted. "Is Ikor any better? What happened?" Eron asked, Hopping quickly over to an Unconscious Ikor. "He was Sick. We assume for at least a couple of days." Ao-ki explained. "And for SOME REASON-" Riff crossed his arms, A pout on his face. "-HE DIDN'T TELL US!" "Well obviously, But

i hope he's Okay." Trek sad, Looking down sadly at Ikor. 3rd Person P.O.V Ikor slept for a good while, So the others decided to keep busy. . . . If "keeping busy" Is "Juggling Jewels" or "Taking a nap" or "Worrying about the ice boi". after about half an hour, The compass suddenly made a farmiliar "BEEP BEEP BEEP" sound, Starttling everyone. Ao-ki walked over, picked up the Compass, and Looked to everyone else, excited. "It's a Shard of the Elestar! There's one in the forest!" She exclaimed. "Well then what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Eron said, Shaking trek awake. "W-Wha? A shard? Shouldn't we be with Ikor?" He yawned. "I'll stay with Ikor in case he wakes up, Y'all should go get the shard." Riff said, Looking down at Ikor. He had been worrying about Ikor all day, Ever Since he collapsed. "Okay. . . Let us know when we come back if he's okay." Ao-ki said, Beginning to beckon the others to the door. "C'mon guys!" she shouted as they left. Riff's P.O.V Silence seeped in afterwords, As ikor seemed to shift in his sleep. Was he waking up already? No, Ikor was just moving. He wasn't awake yet. Riff groaned. He was bored already. What was he gonna do while Ikor woke up?? It suddenly came to Riff's attention, A small Kitchen off to the side of the tower. It wouldn't hurt to try it out, Would it? Nah, Fireys can do anything! Ikor's P.O.V Ikor woke up to the smell of something Burning. He groaned, Sitting up and reaching his hand up to rub his head. Ikor actually felt much better, His headache was basically gone, And he felt unbothered. But, Y'know, All things have their end. as He Looked around, he Noticed the trail of Smoke coming out of the kitchen off to the Side. "Agh! Uh, This needs suger!-" a pause, Then a yelp. "-THAT'S SALT- Oh wait i was supposed to put that in, That's good. Wait, How much salt Do i need again? Eh, I'll just pour in the whole bag. What's it gonna do wrong?" Another pause, And ikor heard something falling over and spilling. "Oh sheesh- OH NO THE CINNAMON-" Ikor eventually figured out it was Riff, But one question Remained. What the howling was riff making? Ikor slowly got up, attempting not to wince in pain as he moved his Legs. He looked towards the Kitchen and began hobbling over. Apparently, His moving had made a Sound, as Riff poke his head out the kitchen Doorframe. "Ikor! You're awake! I'm making you some eggs and bacon, Just give me a second!" Riff exclaimed, But his smile dipped a bit. "Oh! And you need to explain a lot of stuff when i'm done!" It took ikor a second, But he found it in him to Snap at the Firey. "R-Riff, Why the Howling would EGGS AND BACON need SALT AND CINNAMON?" He hissed at him, Grabbing the door for Support the moment he got near it. "Uh- Well, I'm putting everything i like in them, then adding the eggs and bacon together! That's how you make eggs and bacon, Right?" "You've NEVER made eggs before? Seriously?" Ikor snorted. "I'm guessing that's a no, Then?" Ikor raised an eyebrow, And Riff Shrunk down a bit. Ikor sighed, Walking towards him best he could, and sitting down on a stool. "Don't worry. I can't make them right now, But i can tell you how. Okay. Get rid of all this- Stuff, and get out a Pan, Some Butter, and- FOR LORDS SAKE, YOU PUT THEM IN THE OVEN?-" That went on for awhile, Ikor telling Riff what to do and Riff (Kinda) doing it. with a couple of "NONONONO *NOT* THE SALT AGAIN-" And one "Why the howling would you cut the bacon up???", They eventually finished the bacon and eggs. Or eggs and bacon. LISTEN I DON'T KNOW WHICH WAY TO PUT IT- "For a firey, You actually did pretty well following commands." Ikor said, taking a bite of his charred Bacon. "But you cooked the bacon too much, You idiot." Ikor joked. "At least *I* didn't say to cook it to your liking." Riff said. "These are perfect for me." "At the ice kingdom, We don't even cook them. We eat raw." "WHAT?" They sat there, Talking about anything that came to their minds. It wasn't Exciting, almost relaxing. "I was never one to study our dances, But i

can't see how they look stupid!" "It just does! I don't understand why you do it, Is all." "We just do!" As Riff finished his Bacon, he looked back up at ikor. "And Hey! you never explained why you didn't tell us about you being sick!" He said, Pointing his fork at him. "Ah. . . I was hoping you'd forget, You fireys always do." "Hey! We are not, We're very- Heeyyyy, Stop changing the subject! Tell me!" "I kinda. . . Thought you guys wouldn't like me, And in turn would get rid of me, Because honestly, Who just keeps a Herald around that nobody likes? And you would replace me with some stupid Icey, And my father would hate me, And y'all would go on without me, Never giving me a second thought, And maybe just hating iceys more then ever." Ikor spilled. "But" he said. "Now that i think about it." He added. "I know you guys wouldn't do that to me. Y'all are my friends. You always will be, And i trust all of you to know that." He smiled at Riff, And Riff smiled back. Maybe this was going to be okay. Maybe he didn't have to hide all his problems anymore. Maybe. . . Just maybe. . . He could be a part of a new family. //Note: I took WAY too long\\ //I'M SO SORRY\\

[set-phasers-to-whump]

camping trip

prompt: camping

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hi! welcome to this fic :) i feel like it is a little different from my usual stuff but idk how exactly so you just have to read to find out! hope you enjoy :)

It’s a little after six-thirty when they finish making camp. The tent is...standing (nothing much else can be said for it), and inside it the sleeping bags are carefully arranged. A cooler and tote of food sit by one end of the picnic table, atop which is a small folding stove and a propane lantern. Four folding chairs form a sort of circle around the firepit, which is currently devoid of fire. 

“I’ll go find us some firewood,” Nick decides. Thus far he has felt less than useful - apparently, he’s the only one of the group - Hank, Monroe, Rosalee, and himself - that’s never been camping, and consequently the only one who knows absolutely nothing about how to set up a campsite. He would like to do something useful tonight, at least. 

“Don’t bring back anything that’s -”

“Wet, I know.”

“Just making sure,” Monroe says, raising his hands in surrender. “You want someone to come with you so you don’t have to carry a ton of wood all the way back here?”

Nick shakes his head. “I got it,” he insists with a smile. “Really.”

“Have fun,” Hank calls over his shoulder from where he’s digging through the food tote. “Once you get back, we’ll start dinner.”

With the promise of Hank’s mediocre spaghetti to sustain him, Nick heads out into the woods behind their campsite, scanning the ground for any pieces of wood that look like they could be useful. He picks up a couple and ventures deeper into the forest, until he finds himself looking down the slope of a small hill. About halfway down it are several logs that look perfect, and Nick decides it’ll be worth the climb back up to get them. He leaves the wood currently in his arms at the top of the hill and begins walking down.

The hill is covered with various plants, and several of them have thorns which keep catching on Nick’s clothes. More than once he debates turning around to avoid going through any more of them, but he reasons that he’s already on his way down and already has several thorns sticking out of his clothes. Might as well make this little trip worth it. 

He’s close now. He pulls away from an especially prickly vine, yanking the leg of his pants out of the grip of its thorns, and he must pull too hard, because suddenly his legs aren’t where they’re supposed to be and he’s losing his balance and he sticks out a hand to break his fall but he’s on an incline and one hand isn’t enough to stop his momentum. He rolls down the hill and can do nothing to stop it. 

It’s one of the most confusing experiences of his life. One moment he’s just stumbling, sure that he’s about to catch himself, and the next, he’s tumbling painfully downwards, thorns and pinecones and twigs poking at him and catching on him and hurting, and the movement itself is hurting, slamming every part of his body into the hillside, and it’s making him dizzy and - 

And then he’s stopped, breath momentarily knocked out of his lungs. It takes a moment for the sky above him to stop spinning, and when it does, Nick realizes that he must be at the bottom of the hill. His whole body hurts, and anywhere where he’d had exposed skin stings, and he can feel little bits of who-knows-what sticking into him. 

“Ow,” he whispers, because everything hurts. 

For a moment or two he just lies there, forcing himself to get it together. The pain dies down fairly quickly, replaced by aching and embarrassment. He really does not want to have to explain this to his friends. It’s not that bad, anyway. He’ll just be a little bit sore and bruised, and it’s not like that’s an unfamiliar concept to him. He’s essentially fine.

His fineness decided, Nick gets up. His hands hurt something awful when he presses them into the ground, and when he’s finally standing on achy, slightly weak legs, he sees bits of wood and a couple thorns and even a pinecone scale pressed deep into his palms. He brushes off what he can and decides to pull out the rest when he gets back to camp. 

The walk back up the hill is exhausting. Whether Nick wants to admit it or not, his entire body has taken a beating, and it protests against the task. His legs burn with every step he takes, his chest constricts unpleasantly when he takes too deep a breath, and his clothes are still getting stuck on the thorns. 

He reaches the halfway point and the precious firewood he’d endured all this to obtain. Nick decides that there is absolutely no way he is going to return to camp without it, so he scoops it all into his protesting arms, wishes it was lighter, and continues his slow and painful trek up the hill. 

By the time he reaches the top, the sun has nearly set, and Nick wonders just how long he’s been gone. He hopes, belatedly, that his friends aren’t worried, as he picks up the other pieces of firewood that he’d left behind. If nothing else, they’ll have a roaring fire, and he can sit by it and not move for several hours. That sounds nice…

But he still has to make it back to the campsite. Which, after his walk up the hill, is an easy task. He makes it back just as the sun dips completely below the horizon, dropping the wood with a clatter onto the ground. 

“Nick?” Rosalee calls out, peeking out from inside the tent. “There you are, we were starting - oh my god, what happened to you?”

Nick opens his mouth to say, nothing, really, I’m okay, but before he can say anything, Monroe and Hank are calling his name simultaneously, and he turns to look at them as they walk back up the path that leads to the campground bathroom.

“Nick,” Rosalee says, and he looks back to her. “What happened?”

Monroe and Hank walk up to them just in time to hear Rosalee’s question.

“What do you mean, what happened?” Monroe asks, and Nick turns again to look at him.

“Ah. I see it now. Man, you’re covered in...forest. What happened?”

Nick turns away from all of them, feeling his face burn in shame. It’s so stupid, he thinks, what a stupid way to get hurt. 

Rosalee says something soft, which Nick assumes is not directed at him, and when he looks up again, Hank and Monroe have left. He reaches up to rub his eyes and Rosalee gently grabs his wrists. 

“Don’t touch anything yet,” she says. “I know you can’t see it, but I assume you can feel all that stuff poking into your face.”

Now that he thinks about it, he can. It’s like it is on his hands - he can feel what he assumes are thorns and bits of wood and other such things pressing uncomfortably into his face, and some of them sting and some of them just ache and all of them hurt. He really wants to sit down.

“Let’s sit down,” Rosalee suggests, and they walk over to the picnic table, where the lantern is already glowing, providing light to Hank, who is stirring a pot on the little stove at the other end of the table.

Nick sinks down onto the bench, slowly and gingerly, and Rosalee disappears into the tent, emerging a moment later with a first-aid kit. 

From the kit, she produces a bottle of painkillers, shaking out two of them into her hand and holding them out to Nick. He thinks about refusing them and insisting that he’s not hurting that bad, but she seems to know what he’s thinking and shoots him a look that has him taking the pills without argument. 

Rosalee sits down on the bench next to him, gently turning his face towards the light. She begins cleaning off his face, starting by brushing off the bits of forest that will come off easily, then carefully pulling away the more resistant thorns. Nick resolutely does not react at all as she does this, just sits there and watches Monroe build the fire and rearrange the chairs. 

“This might sting a bit,” Rosalee warns, and Nick turns his gaze back to her as she tears open a packet containing an antiseptic wipe. She rubs it across his skin, and it does sting, but again he forces himself not to react. When she finishes with the wipe, she waits a minute for his face to dry, then pulls out a jar of something that is definitely not standard in first-aid kits and rubs it gently over his face. It feels extremely nice as it settles into his various cuts and scrapes, and he wonders what it is, then wonders whether he really wants to know. He decides not to ask, not that he feels much up to saying anything at the moment anyway.

Rosalee repeats this whole process on his hands, and she’s nice enough to not mention the fact that they’re slightly shaking. “Done,” she says quietly, finishing rubbing the contents of the jar onto his palms, and Nick lets his hands fall back to his sides. “There’s still stuff in your hair. Do you want me to…?”

Part of Nick insists that he say no. That he’s already been cared for, been vulnerable, more than enough for one day. But he’s hurting and she’s offering and he really doesn’t want to do it himself. He nods. 

Gentle fingers run through his hair, pulling away bits of pine straw and twigs and who knows what else. Nick finds himself slowly relaxing, the aches and pains slowly fading, and by the time she’s finished, he no longer feels quite as bad. 

They both stand up from the table, meeting each other’s eyes. “Thank you,” Nick says, quietly. 

“Of course,” is Rosalee’s reply. “I’d hug you, but your clothes are still covered in..poky things.”

Nick smiles lightly. “I’m gonna go change, then,” he says, and makes for the tent.

It takes what feels like forever, but eventually Nick is out of his dirty, scraped-up clothes. He carefully wraps them together and puts them at the bottom of his bag, then dusts off his sleeping area. The last thing he wants is to wake up with more thorns sticking into him because they’d fallen off his clothes and onto the place where he’s supposed to sleep. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Hank calls out, and Nick unzips the tent entrance and steps outside, taking a moment to survey the scene in front of him. Hank, Monroe, and Rosalee are clustered around the table, and Hank is handing them bowls of his spaghetti, which smells a good deal better than mediocre. The lantern casts a warm glow on their faces, and to the side of them, the fire crackles and pops and blazes strongly, which Nick supposes is the least it can do considering all the trouble he’d gone to for it.

Nick walks over to the table and accepts his bowl from Hank, who claps him lightly on the shoulder and gives him a soft smile. The four of them then head for the chairs around the fire, where they sit and eat and talk and nobody says anything about Nick’s injuries. 

When they finally put the fire out and start cleaning up the campsite, after several rounds of s’mores and a rousing game of 20 questions, it’s nearly midnight. Nick is still aching as he helps Hank gather up the dishes, but he barely even registers it - evidently, this evening is the best medicine he could’ve asked for.

Twenty minutes later, he’s lying in his sleeping bag and wondering if everyone else is also secretly thinking that the ground beneath them is incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe you just have to get used to it, he figures. He could get used to it, eventually, he thinks. He’d like to get used to it. Because, despite the fact that he’s managed to hurt himself extensively and somewhat embarrassingly, Nick has realized that he really, genuinely likes camping. 

thanks for reading this! all the stuff in this fic is based on my own experiences camping with my family (apart from the falling down the hill which luckily has not happened to me), so if anything sounded a little “why would you do that while camping” just know it’s a product of my weird family lol. hope you liked this fic!!!!

[colonel-insomniac]

Symphony (The Other Planet)

do i hear a spinoff? Yes, i sure do. Anyways, @pawsomelybuggy and @my-blood-is-maple-syrup surprise :). check out “I hear a symphony” by Cody Fry!!

enjoy

“I used to hear a simple song…” 

Ezra and Pon had just lost Kai. The trio was split to a duo, and neither Ezra nor Pon knew what to do next or how to retrieve their friend, if they even could. All of what Kai meant to Ezra threatened to spill over; but he felt that he had to hold himself together for Pon’s sake, who had sat in the same position, staring off into space for about an hour at this point. He wasn’t sure what to do about that, so he elected to let Pon grieve, or mourn, or do whatever it is that he needs to do to be as okay as possible. Until they can find a way to save him, that is.  

It’s so hard, though, when it feels that the light and soul of the universe is gone. Who knows what could be happening to Kai at this very moment? He could be in pain, or….

No. It absolutely could not be the alternative. Ezra doesn’t know what would happen if Kai was… gone, other than that he would completely fall apart. He’s scared to think what’d happen to Pon if that scenario came true.  

“That was until you came along…” 

With everything that’s happened so far, Ezra’s honestly surprised he’s even still here. He’s survived those days on the battlefied, he’s survived fleeing an alien government, and he’s survived being captured. So of course, his luck would turn on him now, of all times; but instead of it being him that got hurt of affected by his sudden lack of good fortune, it had to be Kai. Kai with the big green eyes, and even bigger heart, Kai who didn’t deserve to be hurt. 

Ezra glanced away from the inky black night and towards Pon inside the cave they sought shelter in. As he blinked to adjust his eyes to the dim light the fire that had been created provided, he saw Pon staring at the rock wall opposite from him. His eyes were haunted, so filled with crushing sorrow that Ezra would go as far as to say that they had nearly reached a point of being devoid of any emotion. He watched as a tear slowly slid its way down Pon’s cheek, the silence between the two palpable. 

Ezra carefully sat down, trying hard to not disturb the silence for Pon, and watched the flickering fire as it quietly crackled. Somehow, it resembled Kai in that moment, ever burning spirit and unwilling to be bested. Selfishly needed, but not appreciated until taken away. 

“Now in its place is somethin' new…”

Pon sniffed, and broke his staring contest with the wall. “How do we get him back?” His voice cracked, desperate to bring his best friend back to the safety of their group, matching the rampant emotions filling Ezra’s head. 

He takes a moment to think over the inquisition. “Well, let’s think for a moment. If you were going to take someone and hide them, wouldn’t you take them somewhere no one would expect?” Pon nodded, seemingly understanding the gibberish flowing from Ezra. 

“Well, where would be the one place where it would seem annoyingly obvious to take Kai?” Saying his name feels like admitting a dark truth that Ezra hopes is not true in any way. But now is not the time for sorrow, and tears, and fear. He swallows and blinks hard, trying and failing to dispel some of the emotions building up. 

After a few moments to ponder over the question, Pon’s eyes light up, sparking with the slightest hope, and he mutters “the abandoned building.” Ezra nods, standing up and offering Pon his hand.

Ezra gathers his will and wipes any trace of emotion off his face as Pon quells the fire. Ezra sighs, thinking how they are going to pull off breaking into what is now a governmentally protected building. 

“I hear it when I look at you…” 

The snow is somehow colder than it was when they had been walking the opposite way, as though the world knew what was happening and was so in shock that it could no longer function. Ezra knew how that felt; much like how the exterior of his body felt numb from the biting cold, he felt numb internally. As though nothing but the next worst outcome could shatter him into ever lasting motion. 

The trek was quiet. Neither knew what to say to the other, how to comfort the other. Pon sighed every so often, a sound so crushed and devoid of everything but the tiniest sliver of hope, and Ezra moved silently, his gaze emptily trained in front of them. 

He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t have nightmares-- and the daytime equivalent-- of his time on that dreadful field watered with the blood of humans and Azurellians. Blood mixed symbolically, as though none of this really even matters. Not that that thought is shocking to Ezra even in the slightest. 

Really, though, his nightmares varied. Sometimes, he was the one who got mutilated, other times, people he has come to care about, or his parents. Thankfully that last one only happened once. And when it was just him who was getting hurt, it was different than when it was someone else who was getting hurt. On his own, he could just wake up, check his body until he was sure what happened wasn’t reality. But when it was Kai, or Pon, he sat in a state of worry until he could check on them to make sure they were alright too. And while he may not have had many friends back on Earth, there was nothing he could do to see if they’d been hurt or not. All he could do was tell himself they hadn’t been taken here as far as he was aware. 

“With simple songs I wanted more…” 

A twig snapped under his foot, and both boys jumped, startled out of their respective thoughts. Pon cast a wide-eyed look at Ezra, who attempted to convey that stepping on the twig was completely an accident. Ezra glanced down at the snow, figuring it was better to train his eyes on that, in order to keep the illusion of invisibility. 

The building drew near, lights on and with an air of life to it that had not been there when they had originally sought it out with Kai. Pon grabbed Ezra by the arm and steered him away from the building, something urgent in his steps. Once they were approximately five minutes east of the building, Pon let go of Ezra and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “When we get in there and get him, you absolutely cannot try to sacrifice yourself. No matter what happens, you are our ticket off this place. You do not jeopardize that if you want Kai to survive.” Ezra nodded, frightened that Pon had somehow known exactly what he was planning to do. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he questioned why Pon had only mentioned Kai getting off this planet. Surely Pon knew that Ezra cared for his well-being as well, right? 

Pon had started walking again, so Ezra had to dash to catch up, silently noting the tense posture the boy in front of him had taken. “Pon, you do know I care about your well-being too, right?” Ezra isn’t totally sure if he should be offended by the look of shock on Pon’s face at that statement, regardless of how quick he was to cover it. 

Pon nods, and swallows uncomfortably. “Well, I guess I do now. And same to you, in case I haven’t made that clear.” Ezra nods, biting back all the things he wishes he could say in that moment. They’re too close to the building for him to be able to do that, though. 

Suddenly, Ezra has an overwhelming urge to smack himself in the face. They got all this way, and neither of them discussed how they would even enter the building. Or at least Ezra hasn’t, Pon starts heading towards the back of the building. When they don’t find an open window, Ezra’s already picking up a rock, feeling its weight in his hands. “You aren’t thinking of breaking that window, are you?” Pon whispers, surprise etched onto his face. 

Ezra nods, features grim but determined. “We need a way in, and unless we have some way to disguise ourselves and sneak in, this is the only other option.” Pon hesitates before nodding, stepping back so that Ezra can get to work. 

“I don’t know that there’s a quiet way to break glass, but…” he mutters, trailing off. Suddenly, Ezra stands a bit straighter, shrugging his coat off quickly and removing his black t-shirt underneath. The rock gets wrapped in the shirt before sailing through a window on the first floor. While the shirt muffled the sound of breaking glass, it still was loud, and the duo quickly clambered through the window to avoid the guards, dashing up a set of stairs outside the room. Hearts racing, they slide into the attached bathroom, unkempt and dirty from the years of not being used. Pon locks the door behind him, huddling in a corner with Ezra. The lights are off, and Ezra can barely see, but he doesn’t hear any footsteps. 

“Perfection is so quick to bore, you are my beautiful, by far…”

Kai felt as though this timeline was endless. His hands were tied behind his back, his legs to the legs of the chair. If Pon and Ezra didn’t come back for him, well he could hardly blame them. His head throbbed and he ached basically all over, cuts and bruises littering his body from the authorities attempts to get him to give them any information. He refused, of course, and faced the repercussions. 

He craved to succumb to the endless, inky black of unsconsciousness, for a moment’s peace, but it seemed as though he would never really know peace. Kai numbly glanced around the bare white walls, into the window that allowed him to view the hallway. Something inside of him was filled with a crushing dread that he wouldn’t make it out of here. 

Kai dropped his head, so his chin touched his chest, and closed his eyes as he started humming a quiet tune. Some pretty ideation of his mind, somewhere better,, and brighter, where he could just be. That’s all he wants to do, is to live. Or well, wanted. He just wants to close his eyes...so bad. 

His eyes are on their journey to being closed when a loud bang makes him jump. Kai’s body feels shocked, before the pain from moving sets in, and he groans, barely holding back a sob. 

“Our flaws are who we really are…”

The next time he opens his eyes, Kai wishes he could rub at them because he swears he sees Pon standing in front of him, glancing at the door. Kai has a feeling Ezra is on the other side of that doorway, taking care of the guards that had been ensuring that he’d be kept within the room. Pon finally looks at Kai, and his eyes well with tears of guilt, and Kai knows Pon felt guilty about Kai being the one who had been taken and not Pon. 

Kai blinks, and promptly screams when he manages to drag his eyes open again. Where Pon had once stood, he now lies, red liquid spilling out from inside him. Kai tugs against the ropes restraining him from tending to his friend, desperately trying to break free. His heart feels like it has both stopped beating, and is beating too much, and in the back of his mind, he’s aware he needs to slow his breathing. But all he can think of is Pon, the bright eyed boy who had willingly been his friend all these years. 

The red makes its way to staining the ends of Pon’s hair, and Kai can do nothing besides frantically attempt to escape his restraints. Ezra darts inside, but halts at the sight of Pon collapsed on the floor. Dropping down next to him, Ezra places two fingers against Pon’s neck, watching his chest for a couple seconds. “He’s breathing but we need to hurry.” He pulls out a shard of glass from his back pocket, and Kai doesn’t want to even begin to think where that came from. Not that he can, anyways. 

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along…” 

It takes a moment for Ezra to slice through the ropes that bind Kai, but once he’s free, Kai immediately drops down beside Pon, hissing at the lightning rod pain that electrocutes his body. Kai places a shaky hand against his best friends cheek, whispering his name as he tries not to cry. Ezra glances between the two friends and the door, and quickly scoops Pon in his arms, turning to Kai. “Are you able to walk?” The taller boy’s gaze is filled with sorrow, pain, and concern, but Kai painstakingly struggles to his feet, pausing to regain his breath, biting down on the inside of his cheek before nodding. 

It’s apparent that he can barely walk, and he winds up with Ezra wrapping and arm underneath Kai’s to provide enough support to where the shorter boy could walk. Luckily, they don’t manage to run into any guards, though it had been a very narrow escape, as Kai could hear the rushing footsteps above him. 

They don’t make it back to their original cave, but they do find an abandoned underground bunker, where Ezra lays Pon down on the bed gingerly, helping Kai to sit next to his friend, before exiting the room to give the two privacy while he pokes around the bunker. 

Ezra had ripped off a part of his jacket to tie around Pon, and luckily it hadn’t soaked through yet, but Pon’s short and raggedy breaths worried Kai to no extent, “I‘m not gonna make it.” Pon whispers in the thick silence. 

“You took my broken melody, and now I hear a symphony…”

Kai shakes his head as best as he can, not wanting to believe a word of it. “No, you can’t leave me alone.” As much as it hurt, Kai let the tears roll down his cheeks. 

“Not alone, you have Ezra.” 

“Pon, I can’t do this without you, I need you to be okay.” Kai gingerly placed his head on Pon’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I’ll try.” Pon whispers, his breath evening out. 

Ezra returned with bandages and rubbing alcohol in hand, stopping abruptly at the sight of the two sleeping. His heart seized as the thought of them both being gone flitted through his head before he focused in on the steady rise and fall of Kai’s chest, and the slightly less stable breathing from Pon. 

Though he felt bad about rousing either of the boys, he decided to allow Kai some rest, and gingerly nudged Pon awake. 

“And now, I hear…”

“Ezra, I’ve been thinking,” Pon whispers, glancing at Kai’s sleeping form before training his gaze to the ground. “If I don’t make it, please don’t let Kai feel guilty. He has to know I—we —would never have left him there.” 

Ezra swallows. What do you say to someone who knows they’re basically dead? “No, you won’t die?” 

He settles for a grim nod, briefly explaining that hopefully cleaning the wound would prevent it from getting infected and increase his likelihood of survival. He hands Pon a clean white strip from his coat’s inner lining to bite down on as he uncaps the bottle of rubbing alcohol. 

Lifting Pon’s clothing out of the way of the wound is harder than he’d thought. It was a mix of trying not to get frustrated, and trying to remain gentle. At long last, the skin is finally separated from the cloth, and Ezra glances at Pon before giving Pon his free hand when Pon extends his.

With a nod from Pon, Ezra pours the clear liquid over the wound. Pon lets out a muffled groan, shifting in pain, clutching Ezra’s hand. When the other boy pulls the liquid away, Pon is left gasping for air, barely noticing when Ezra wraps gauze bandaging around the wound. 

“Do we have to do this to Kai?” Pon is instantly protective, not wanting to impose any pain on his friend. Ezra glances at Kai, whose eyebrows are scrunched together. 

Ezra knows he should say yes, because they really ought to, but he too cannot bring himself to allow more pain to come to Kai. He mutters all of this to Pon, who nods, relieved. After helping Pon lie back down, Ezra waits until Pon sleeps before sitting just in front of the bed, resting his head in his hands. 

Pon never wakes up again, his body cooling by the time Kai wakes. The short boy feels instantly numb, but later breaks down sobbing in the bathroom, where Ezra finds him seated in the tub, clothed as water cascades down around him. 

They wind up bringing Pon to Earth with them, neither wanting to leave him on Azurelle, both facing a desire to allow him to rest somewhere he truly wants to be. 

“A symphony…” 

Kai visits Pon as often as he can, plays him all the music he’d discovered since the last time he’d been to the sunny field. Kai talks, telling Pon how much he still misses his best friend, still expecting to see Pon walk through a doorway, like nothing ever happened. Kai cries, wishing Pon was there to cry with him, or comfort him. 

One day, Kai is laying curled in his bed, too sad to move. On days like these, Ezra makes sure to ask Kai what he would like. Today, Kai wants to not be alone in his silence. Ezra holds Kai silently, not on his phone or watching television, and Kai’s reminded of how much the other boy cares for him. 

Both get startled when they hear a knock on the front door of their tiny apartment, followed by a voice that sounds eerily similar to Pon. Kai can’t find the will to move, fearing he’ll be disappointed, as though this is a trick of his minds innermost desires. 

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hey everyone. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Get ready for some conflict, and two stubborn men refusing to admit their faults. Hope you enjoy it.

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Two - Teething Trouble

Day One: Monday

The further they trudged into the forest, the more Freed understood what Gajeel was going to put him through. In a word: Survival.

He should have guessed by the way Gajeel had treated him before they'd left magnolia that the antagonism shared between them would be a factor in the week. Gajeel had immediately told him to leave his bags at home - "You're only gonna need the clothes on yer back, city boy." - and had taken every opportunity to call Freed 'fragile' and 'spoiled'. Clearly, he thought that Freed was a man unused to roughing it, and who had spent his life in luxury.

To put it simply, Gajeel hadn't planned a training exercise. He had planned three days of pushing Freed to his limits, trying to break him and expose his supposed weakness. No doubt the following three days would be filled with pointless physical labour and an excess of exaggerated survivalist exercises,

Freed found it oddly exciting; he would enjoy proving the idiot wrong.

"Heads up," Gajeel grunted, letting go of a branch he'd pushed aside, clearly intending to let it hit Freed. Freed, being a trained mage with refined reflexes, caught the branch before it struck him. Gajeel saw, his lips twitched down slightly. "Hm."

"Are you intending to be obnoxious," Freed asked, boot squelching in the mud. "Or is that just your personality?"

"Not enjoying yourself, city-boy?"

"You've hardly proven yourself to be a conversationalist, have you?" Freed mused, climbing the small verge of grass that Gajeel was guiding him to. "And so far, rather than training of any kind, you've decided to take me on a walk around the forest and not much else."

"We're nearly there," Gajeel grunted. "And maybe if ya shut yer trap I'd be better company."

"You're quite defensive, I do hope I didn't strike a nerve," Freed hummed, wanting to annoy the man. "If simply insulting your plans has gotten your hackles raisen so quickly, then you've got thinner skin than I had expected."

"I've got thin skin?" Gajeel scoffed. "Sure."

That was the entirety of the conversation shared between the two men for the morning. The forest Gajeel had chosen for them to walk through was one unfamiliar to Freed, and as such he couldn't be sure if he was being taken a direct route to wherever Gajeel was taking him, or if he had been walking in circles for Gajeel to test his stamina and ability to cross a wooded area. They'd seen the same stream a few times, at different places, so Freed was fairly sure that they weren't going the most direct route.

Only when the sun was high in the sky did Gajeel decide to stop walking. Though he wouldn't say it, Freed's as thankful for the rest, as his legs were starting to complain. He looked around where they had paused to see what Gajeel considered a good stopping point,

Gajeel was obnoxious, but he clearly knew what he was doing.

He'd found a small clearing in the trees, with a break in the canopy that gave them direct sunlight and dryer grass. They were a close walk from the stream, so had both a water and food source, if the fish were safe to eat. They weren't so far from the trees that it would be a trial to find shelter if the rain began. Freed was impressed, and looked to Gajeel for further instructions; if he wanted to beat him at his own game, he needed to know what this game was.

"You might have figured out what this is," Gajeel began, looking towards Freed. He was clearly proud of himself. "For the next three days, we're camping out here, living off the land. No help, no magic, no luxury."

He had emphasised the word luxury, as if the lack of it might make Freed cry. Gods, it would be sweet to wipe that smile off his face.

"You act like I've never camped before," Freed commented.

"Not like this you ain't," Gajeel stated. Technically it was true, Freed usually had a flimsy tent at least, but it was hardly a worrying prospect. "We need food, shelter, heat. Since we have to work together, we split duties. I'll get some fish, you make a fire and get us some shelter made," He crossed his arms and smirked, "if you can handle it, of course."

"I'm sure I can cope," Freed drawled. "Though I might fall to pieces if I chip one of my nails."

Gajeel grunted and turned around. Apparently he wasn't happy that his clear assumptions about Freed had been thrown back at him. That only made Freed more enthusiastic about showing just how capable a man he was, and how wrong Gajeel was in his ideas.

With his teammate walking towards the shallow stream, Freed looked around to see what he had to use. Clearly Gajeel didn't want him using his magic for his time in the forest, so the shelter wouldn't be so easy as making a rune barrier to keep them warm and protected, but that wasn't too difficult to contend with. As they'd walked, Freed had been taking note of the wildlife, and suspected that wolves, bears and other hostile creatures would not cause a problem. The main cause for shelter would be the weather, both protection from the sun and the rain if the clouds rolled in. Perfectly easy.

Using his sword, which had been considered as part of the clothes on his back, Freed began ripping large sheets of bark from nearby trees. He then began hacking away at the lower branches, those wide enough to support some weight but thin enough to be cut away fairly easily.

With enough supplies, he walked back to the clearing. Gajeel was still in the stream, with the water up to his ankles. On the rocks by the shore, four fish were sat dead, wirh Gajeel seemingly attempting to catch them some more. It was an impressive sight to see, he was picking them out from the water without a second thought, and Freed was reluctantly grateful. Catching fish on his own was not something he would be proficient in.

Not without his magic, anyway.

He refocused his attention on the task at hand. He was intending to make a small hut for them both to shelter under. It wouldn't be complicated: four of the branches would hold up the sheets of bark. It wouldn't be particularly large, and the protection of the wind would be non-existent, but it would do what was needed to protect them from either sunstroke, or a cold, depending on the weather.

Freed quickly put his plans into action. The four strongest branches were dug into the dirt, propped up in place by the weaker branches. He tied the pieces of bark together using weeds and some of the longer leaves, making it into a single sheets that would protect them from the elements. It didn't take long for him to affix the bark to the branches, and he made sure to test the structural integrity of the hut by kicking each of the branches. With each kick, the hut held, and Freed considered it to be a success.

"Ain't too bad," Gajeel said, suddenly behind Freed. Freed only allowed a small twitch of surprise. "Don't see a fire, though."

"I expect that's because I haven't made one yet," Freed retorted, shaking the hut again to be sure the bark would hold. "I'm afraid there's not much space under it, so we'll have to sleep close to one another. I might have made it larger, but you seem averse to luxury and I didn't wish to scare you."

"You ain't funny," Gajeel grunted. "Make a fire, city-boy."

Ah, so 'city-boy' was going to stay? That was unfortunate.

Still, as much as Freed would have liked to explain how incorrect the nickname was, Gajeel would prefer actions over words. If he wanted a fire, Freed was happy to make a fire.

This was child's play for him, he was a mage after all. He made a bed of rocks to protect the grass from burning, then began laying thicker logs into a pile. Next, the thin and dried out twigs that would quickly set alight without much complaint. Finally, dry leaves that would take a spark and turn into fire.

It took a few moments for Freed to find a piece of flint, but he did. Once he had, he rested his sword in the middle of the unlit fire. He struck the blade with the flint, sparks flying from it.

Gajeel didn't once stop watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake. He didn't, and the fire was soon burning.

"Is that satisfactory," Freed asked, placing the sword in the scabbard as the fire grew beside him. "Or do you wish for me to trek into the forest and tame a wolf so that it can protect us?"

"I said you ain't funny," Gajeel muttered. He handed Freed one of the many fish he had caught. "Gut this. Hope you ain't squeamish."

Freed openly laughed, having him gut a fish was Gajeel's trump card?

This would be easier than he thought.

——

Everything about the day had worked out in Freed's favour, and it was delightful to watch Gajeel get more and more angry about it. He clearly wanted Freed to blanch at the idea of working to survive, and Freed had proven himself a capable man under every task he had been given. This was a competition, and so far Freed was dominating it.

"Stand up," Gajeel demanded suddenly, and Freed raised an eyebrow. "You wanted to train right? Let's train."

"Very well," Freed said, standing up. "What did you have in mind?"

It was late in the evening now, and the fire was the only source of light. Clouds were obstructing the moon, thankfully, meaning Freed didn't have to worry about the demon burning away inside of him. Whatever Gajeel had in store, Freed wanted complete focus so he could finally end this ridiculous test he'd been put through.

Following his teammate, he was taken a short ways away from the hut he'd created. They were close to the stream, but not so far that they couldn't see one another in the darkness. Gajeel stopped, turned towards Freed, and spread his arms.

"You rely on yer magic too much," Gajeel stated, despite the fact Freed has spent the day disproving that fact. "And I'm willing to bet you hang back in a fight and let Sparky and the Acrobat do most of the physical shit. If you go against someone who cancels your magic then you're shit out of luck, and I ain't gonna fight with a guy who can only toss spells at a guy and hope it works."

"I can't decide if you're wilfully ignoring everything I've done today, or if you're too stupid to have a short term memory," Freed commented with a patronising grin.

"Keep talking shit, it'll only make this worse," Gajeel grinned, his fangs poking through his lips.

Freed went to retort, but Gajeel did the most peculiar thing, and removed his shirt. The suddenness of the action stopped Freed's words before they came.

"We're gonna wrestle. No magic, no weapons, no holds barred. Just gotta rely on our own strength. We keep going until one of us gives us or loses consciousness."

"Very well," Freed shrugged, reaching up to remove his cravat. "Once you've given up, you can perhaps lose this idea that I'm incapable."

"Doubt it," Gajeel grunted.

Freed, to keep in step with Gajeel, removed his own shirt and threw it to the side. As he did, he assessed his opponent. Gajeel was objectively a broader and more muscular man, and despite how intentionally toned he was - nobody got a six pack accidentally - Gajeel's muscles weren't just a result of vanity. The man was physically stronger than him, and had the advantage. But Freed had succeeded in situations worse than this, and Gajeel's cockiness would be his downfall.

With both men stripped to the waist, they assumed a battle ready stance. Gajeel counted down from three, and they lurched towards one another the moment the fight began. The bartering of a muscular form against his own took the wind out of Freed, but he grappled the man around the waist without hesitation.

They struggled like that for a moment, both pushing to wrong foot the other man, neither succeeding.

Freed felt his feet stumbling slightly, and knew that Gajeel's strength was greater than his own. He needed to be smart about this: he would exhaust his target, and take what opportunities presented to throw Gajeel off. One such opportunity had just shown up - if Gajeel wanted to push him back, he would give him what he wanted.

With fast movements, he removed his arms from around Gajeel's waist and shunted back. Too late to adjust his momentum, Gajeel stumbled forward, landing face first in the ground where Freed had just been.

"I'm embarrassed for you that that worked," Freed commented before he could stop himself.

Just as Gajeel pushed himself up off the ground, Freed tackled him again. He was successful this time, flipping him so his back was flush against the grass. When Gajeel's right hand came to push Freed off, he quickly took hold and pinned it above his head. He pressed a foot into Gajeel's stomach to hold him down, smirking as he went to further taunt the man. Just before the words could leave his mouth, a splitting pain filled Freed.

The bastard had kicked him in the stomach.

Gajeel had meant it when he'd said no holds barred. Freed could work with that.

Pushing himself up before Freed could recover, Gajeel crashed into Freed with his full body weight, and the press of the man's strong form was pinning Freed to the ground immediately. One hand was pressing Freed's hands to the ground, his foot was pinning Freed's right leg in place, and his other hand was pressing against Freed's throat with strength behind it. He also meant it when he'd said until one of them was unconscious.

But Freed was not a man to go down without a fight. With only his left leg unpinned, he did something he wasn't particularly proud of, but worked in the situation. He slammed his knee into Gajeel's groin, and the pressure went away as Gajeel staggered to the side.

"Fucking bastard," Gajeel roared, voice a little higher than normal. "What the hell?"

Freed didn't waste the opportunity, and pushed his foot to Gajeel's spine and pressed him face first into the ground. He'd cupped his balls on instinct, meaning his hands were essentially pinned below him when Freed asserted more pressure.

"No holds barred," Freed taunted. "A word of advice. If you set a rule around me, I tend to remember-"

He was cut off when Gajeel suddenly lurched back, throwing Freed's leg off him and making him scramble for balance. He grabbed Freed by the calve and pulled down with strength, taking Freed to the ground beside him. Freed found his arms yanked behind him, and grunted a little at the pain as they were pinned against his lower back. He didn't struggle, it would only exhaust him.

"Givin' up so quickly, huh?" Gajeel purred. "Ain't surprised. Knew you couldn't handle it."

Gajeel had meant to taunt him, but all he had done was show where he was. The words had been right beside Freed's ear, and so Gajeel's face was right behind his ear too. With a jerk, Freed rammed his head back, feeling the crack of the other man's jaw against his skull. The grip on his hands loosened, and he managed to push the man off him.

The following few moments followed a pattern. Freed would get the better of Gajeel, Gajeel would push him off and pin Freed down. Freed in turn would get Gajeel off him, and push him down. The pattern would repeat itself, with neither man gaining the upper hand for too long.

"Ah," Freed panted at the sudden cold on his back as he was pushed to the ground again. Water, they were at the stream now.

"Cold ain't a bother, right?" Gajeel smirked, kicking Freed in the chest when he tried to sit up.

"You're determined to think me weak, aren't you?" Freed rasped slightly, winded from the kick. "Which is a brave thing to say, given you were rolling around the floor cupping your balls just moments ago."

An exaggeration, but the snarl of anger he got was worth it.

Suddenly, one of Gajeel's large hands was wrapped up in Freed's hair, and a kick to the gut had Freed turning. A foot was pressed against this back, forcing him to lie face down in the cold water. Gajeel made sure to hold his face towards the flow of the stream, and the feeling of it rushing into his partially split lips and nose was a horrid burning. A nasty trick.

Freed tried to push himself up, but the fight was lasting longer than he hoped and after a day of labour, Freed's muscles were starting to protest. He tried to raise his head, but Gajeel wouldn't allow it.

Above all, Freed was a strategist. Sometimes, a retreat was the logical choice.

He knew he could get out of this hold. With the right angle, he could take hold of Gajeel's leg and pull it in the same way Gajeel had done to him to knock him off balance. But what then? They would fall back into the spiral of pinning one another, hitting one another, and achieving nothing.

This entire exercise was an act of futility. Gajeel was trying to prove Freed was weak willed and impractical, despite the fact it was clearly untrue. Freed was trying to prove Gajeel wrong, but the man was too pigheaded to accept it.

"I give," Freed grunted, voice warped by the water.

"What was that?" Gajeel taunted.

"I said I give," Freed spat.

The hand keeping his head partially underwater was gone, and the foot holding him down soon followed. Freed spat out the water as he turned, body aching as he sat in the stream. Gajeel was looking down at him as if he were dirt, and it took a lot of self restraint not to attack the man where he stood.

"You think yer hot shit, but you ain't," Gajeel grunted, "You're a spineless ass with some spells you rely on too much."

"You know damn well I only stopped that because it was pointless," Freed snarled, standing up, water dripping from him. "And you didn't ban magic because you want to see me fight without it. You were just scared of me showing my power because you know it dwarves yours."

"The hell did you say?" Gajeel growled, and magic energy filled the space as Gajeel's hands turned to a blade.

"You heard me," Freed's voice was distorted - demonic - and he didn't care. "You are in the presence of a powerful wizard and terrified."

For a moment, neither man spoke. Tense magical energy flowed form them both, ready to lurche should they need it. Gajeel relented, walking towards the fire, murmuring that he couldn't wait for the week to be over.

That, at least, was something they could agree upon.

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!seonghwa (part 4)

word count: 5k

fluff

(part 3) (series masterlist)

as if your walk home wasn't bad enough, the encounter in the library leaving you with a burning anger in your chest and stinging eyes, you watch as the sky darkens followed by booms of thunder in the distance.

"of course! of fucking course! why wouldn't this be happening right now!" you mumble hysterically to yourself, holding your bag atop your head and trying so hard to get the sound of his words out of your mind.

you knew very well how your new classmates felt about you, they had made it abundantly obvious over these past few days, but that was by far the worst interaction thus far. 

worse than the boy who made fun of your bike and the girl who gave you a public verbal lashing in 4th period.

he had come at you with such hostility and meanness, his words biting and eyes full of taunting hatred. 

you'd known that stupid tutor for less than 30 minutes but he had already attacked and critiqued every part of you: your clothes, your smarts, your appearance, your intentions at the school.

you didn't think you could detest anyone after such a short period of time, but you absolutely can. and do. 

you detest his privilege and the way he spoke to you and how so smug and arrogant he was the entire time.

and then seonghwa barreling through, looking at you with such confusion and concern in his eyes that you had to get out of there because you were too overwhelmed. 

overwhelmed by him and the chaos that's followed you from being at this school for less than a week, all because you don't drive a fancy car or wear expensive clothes.

rain droplets start to fall from the dark sky and then all of the sudden it starts down pouring, soaking your bag and hair and shoes so you say fuck it and just accept your misfortunate, trekking through the puddles with water dripping off you and at least now it's not obvious the wetness on your face is from tears.

because you hate this. you really really hate this. maybe your parents will let you transfer or you can get home schooled for a year or take a semester off and work.

a black car pulls up next to you much to your ignorance, eyes cast down as you silently cry and wrack your brain for any possible way to avoid returning back to that school tomorrow. 

it's not until you hear a short beep next to you that your head snaps to the side, nervousness flooding through you like you're seven years old and about to get kidnapped.

but you're not seven and you've had a bad enough day so you shoot them a dirty look because, sure, why not get kidnapped too. it'd be unfortunate for them, coming to find our your parents have no money for ransom.

the car persistently follows you and you're about to scream at them when you hear that familiar deep voice.

"y/n!"

you squint through the heavy rain and make out the mercedes you squeezed passed the other morning on the hunt for your cat, the very same one that stopped at the crosswalk yesterday to allow you to ride your bike. 

your eyes travel to see seonghwa looking at you through his rolled down window, one hand on the steering wheel as he speaks loudly over the roar of the rain.

"get in."

"i'm all wet," you state obviously, as if he's not staring at your figure getting drenched.

he has to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"exactly. so get in."

"but i don't wanna get your car-"

"y/n," he says firmly, sending you a stern glare before rolling up his window. you check both ways and then hobble over to the passenger side door, opening it quickly and jumping in because apparently what seonghwa wants, seonghwa gets.

you're immediately hit with the lingering scent of a new car mixed with manly cologne, the black interior shiny and clean. 

you feel yourself start to soak the expensive black leather underneath you and cringe because everything about this car is far too nice and fancy and here you are being a disaster, per usual.

"i'm so sorry, i'm literally getting your seat drenched right now."

"you're acting as if i don't know you got caught in the rain," he hums quietly, fiddling with the controls as he begins to drive. 

you feel warm heat hit your face seconds later and your eyes shut in contentment; you hadn't realized how cold the rain was, the hot air on your wet skin now making you shiver.

"but i'm getting your seats all wet and-"

"y/n, it's okay."

his voice is so soft and calm and then you hear his exaggerated inhales and exhales, like how he did earlier in class. you find yourself mimicking them, breathing in and out slowly as you look at his hand curled around the top of the steering wheel.

he peeks over at you and breaths with you for one, two, three, four more breaths before tightening his hold when he follows your gaze. your breathing is slowly getting under control and then you watch as his hand flexes, veins slightly bulging and you sharply inhale before quickly looking away. 

you hear his suppressed chuckle next to you and the car is silent for a few moments, your hands in front of the heated vent as rain pelts against the windows. 

he's at a red light when he turns to you, smiling softly as he watches your hands twist over the warm air. 

but he can tell the wetness on your face wasn't just from the rain, your red eyes and slight puffiness a dead giveaway; it causes his stomach to sink before anger rushes through him again.

"tell me what happened. now."

yeosang looked at the boy in shock because he sounded and looked pissed and it's not like he was the one who just had to deal with that nonsense.

"why do you care?" the smaller boy snaps, still angry from the altercation with you and your nerdy friend. "how do you know someone like her in the first place?"

but seonghwa just stares blankly, his jaw ticking angrily and growing impatient because he can't stop thinking about how you ran out of here, how sad you looked when he first arrived.

"i asked you a question," he said, advancing a bit toward the boy.

"and i asked you one," yeosang growls and san pulls the boy backward, placing himself in between his two friends.

"alright, tough guys, let's just calm down and be friends!"

"fuck off san," yeosang growls, his temper getting the best of him, "i wanna know why he's looking at me like that over some random beggar."

seonghwa reaches around san and pulls yeosang by the collar, pushing him up against the table and looking down at him with dark, heated eyes. san's yelps of protest and attempt at calming the tension is only background noise in their pounding ears.

"shut the fuck up."

"you shut the fuck up," he tries to push the boy away but his height and strength slightly overpower him, "you don't even know what happened."

"then tell me, that's what i've been asking you," he growls, pushing him back into the table roughly before releasing his collar.

"i didn't wanna do the stupid tutoring to begin with," he mumbles and seonghwa lets out a scuff.

"so you take it out on her? she didn't even do anything!"

"she did!" he yells, "she was being snippy even after i explained it to her very clearly."

san and seonghwa both look at him with an unconvinced expression, yeosang's gaze moving to the smaller boy's because he's apparently less biased right now.

"why are you looking at me like that?"

san rubs the back of his neck nervously, not being one to deal with confrontation in their friend group and usually the one trying to mend it. but he can't even lie and say his friend didn't seem to be hostile towards you.

"sometimes...when you explain stuff that's easy to you, you get a little..."

"what? i get a little what?" he says, voice raising and san throws up his arms defensively.

"see! you're already doing it, you get angry and snap! but it's not that easy for everyone!"

yeosang can only roll his eyes, walking away from the table so he doesn't get nailed into it again.

"okay but then if she's here on a scholarship, why does she need the tutoring? isn't the point of one to be fucking smart? to be an asset to our school since she's not paying tuition like the rest of us."

"you're such a little prick," seonghwa says through clenched teeth, "she's been getting shit nonstop since she started her."

"and when was that? a day ago? i'm sure she's doing just fine," yeosang says, completely unsympathetic before eyeing seonghwa carefully, "why do you care so much?"

"none of your business," he growls, "you just better apologize to her."

but yeosang doesn't care and his anger is now just replaced with smugness so he has to fuck with his friend one last time.

"now why the hell would i apologize for putting her in her place?"

"i swear to fucking god, yeosang, i'm gonna-"

san throws himself between the two boys again, using all of his strength to push seonghwa away.

"guys, enough!" he says loudly and it's rare that san ever raises his voice like this; so when he does, it usually does the trick.

yeosang and seonghwa stare at each other angrily, both pairs of eyes burning and dark and refusing to look away. there's a standoff for what feels like hours before yeosang huffs and rolls his eyes, mumbling "fuck this," before bumping seonghwa's shoulder roughly and leaving out the library exit.

san looks warily at seonghwa and the boy finally lets out the breath he's been holding, plopping down in a chair and raking his hand through his hair.

"what was that?" san asks quietly, "who is she to you?"

"i...no...i don't know," is all he says because his mouth doesn't allow the words no one. even though you technically are still a stranger. his head turns back to the door you stormed out of and he lets out a sigh, feeling san's hand comfortingly rest on his shoulder.

"i'm sorry about yeosang," he blurts out and you turn to look at him, confusion evident in your face so he speaks again. "the guy who tutored you. yeosang. he didn't even tell you his name?"

you huff out in anger, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. "no, he was too busy calling me stupid and poor."

seonghwa stiffens next to you, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. but you're unable to catch it, swallowing nervously because he seems to be getting mad.

"what else did he say to you?"

you peak at the boy whose hard eyes are focused on the road, jaw ticking and tense and you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little thrown off by his anger.

"i...uh..i don't know," you mumble.

"no self respecting girl would wear those things."

"oh, so now you know more than me? a more proper way on how to teach someone not to be a fucking idiot?"

"make sure you tell how how helpful i was, since i solidified your career as a cheap-"

(it doesn't take a genius to figure out what his next word choice would've been).

"just that, really," you say but you're even more unnerved because it seemed as if they knew each other, like they were friends and you don't wanna cause problems if that's the case.

"why?" you ask before he can comment again, "do you know him?"

"yeah," he says quietly after a few moments, hand tightening on the steering wheel again, "we're...he's one of my best friends."

your heart sinks because how and why is someone like him friends with him? but then you suppose it makes sense because rich, attractive people always do seem to find their way to each other.

he doesn't know what to make of your silence, wanting to say something to you to make you feel better, like that he didn't mean it or he's not always like that but doesn't think defending him will be much better. so after a few beats of silence, only your quiet "oh," rings through the car.

"i told him to apologize to you."

a humorless laugh leaves your mouth, eyes rolling to look outside the window next to you. 

"i don't need his apology," you mutter softly before you realize seonghwa has no idea where you live. and that the houses outside your window are definitely not the ones in your neighborhood.

"wait...where are we?" and then you're pulling into the driveway of his familiar mansion, "seonghwa, wait why are we-"

"i thought maybe you'd want a change of clothes," he says, "you shouldn't go home soaking wet."

your head snaps to look at him and he's looking over at you warily, like he's unsure of how you're gonna react to being brought to his house.

but again, only a quiet little "oh," slips out of your mouth. 

his lips turn into a small smile as he watches your face with apprehensive but amused eyes. he can tell a hundred different thoughts are swirling through your mind, gaze switching from him, to the house, to your wet clothes, to your hair in the side mirror.

"school also doesn't let out for another hour, so i wasn't sure if you'd be able...able to go home yet," he says and it's the first time you've heard him stammer over his words, the first time seeing him a little unsure and uncomfortable. 

it kind of does something to your chest, seeing him be a little more human and not the cool and collected boy he's been. 

and his reasoning is sweet, even though the thought hadn't even crossed your mind. because your parents usually don't get home from work until dinner time.

he watches your face morph from confusion to an almost touched expression to pure and utter fear, the last one throwing him off until your shaky voice utters:

"so... i'm supposed to go in there? like this?"

he can't hide his chuckle because you're looking at his house like it's fort knox and will be jailed if you trespass. he turns off his car and opens the door silently, nodding his head toward the monstrosity he calls home.

"seonghwa, wait-"

but the door slams and cuts you off, leaving you to groan as you quickly take off your seatbelt and rush out into the rain. 

you run around his car and up the stone path to the prettiest glass door you've ever seen, green plants littering the entrance and a chandelier hanging outside. seonghwa taps a keypad and then turns the knob, pulling you in by your arm to tear your gaze away because why is there a chandelier outside?

you slam clumsily into his body and then nearly throw up when you take in his house. the foyer is all marble and glass and smells like flowers, a double staircase leading to the second floor with yet an even nicer chandelier hanging between them.

"what....that's...i...staircase," you stutter stupidly because you can only think of the entrance to your own house, with its stained carpet and piles of jackets and shoes messily blocking the door. but there's nothing in this house, no sign of living or clutter, like it's a show house.

he bites back his smirk before leading you towards the stairs by the small of your back. but you stop in your tracks before you can make it up them, grabbing onto the shiny banister.

"i can not walk through this house drenched in dirty rain water!" you squeal, "are you out of your mind!"

he moves around you so he's a few steps above you, bending down further to meet your gaze. his eyes are roaming over your face before he looks into your overwhelmed eyes.

"would you prefer to strip?" he asks, voice deep and eyes twinged with a dark playfulness.

a look of horror covers your red face, cheeks heated from his words and his eyes and then his eyebrow raising as if he thinks you're contemplating an answer.

"of course not! i-"

"then walk."

but he doesn't even give you the chance to before he grabs your hand and drags you up the stairs.

you're stumbling behind him, looking around in fascination because you really can't believe people live like this. with ceilings this high and archways so grand you find yourself laughing.

"what happened?" seonghwa mumbles, leading you down the hallway.

"i just can't believe this is your house," you tell him, "i...feel like i actually should be cleaning it right now."

you hear the boy scoff next to you, shaking his head in annoyance and opening the door to his bedroom. 

you can make out his giant bed and feel yourself hesitate, a nervous feeling suddenly flooding through at his bed being right there. you don't want know why it unnerves you, why your palms suddenly start to sweat and heart starts to race.

"wait out here, i'll just grab you something," he says, sensing your discomfort. you nod your head and he keeps the door half open, disappearing as he walks to the other side of the room. 

and then your feet start moving down the hall before you even realize, admiring the walls and railings and "oh, my god! the ceilings are like renaissance paintings, i can't believe i'm in a house like this," you mumble to yourself.

you can only think of the cracks and chipping paint on your own ceiling at home.

you peer over the other side of the railing, looking down into his kitchen and you'd bet serious money he's probably got not only one, but two refrigerators that match the black cabinets you're staring at from above.

suddenly, you hear a door open and your breath catches in your throat when an older man walks through. he's shouting a woman's name and you quickly jump back so you're not seen.

you quickly scurry back up the hallway, trying to remember the route back to his room and pushing your way through the open door. you slam it close and lock it, turning around quickly to find seonghwa.

and to your surprise, he's right there. and you had bumped right into his bare chest.

because he's just standing there shirtless with a surprised look on his face, toned pecks and abs on display while a tiny squeak of surprise and horror leaves your mouth. 

but it doesn't stop your eyes from traveling down to admire him, taking him in as your arms rest on his warm skin and you didn't think anything would beat the first sight you had of him looking like a prince in matching pajamas.

(but you should've known him wearing nothing would've probably been a little bit better).

"i'm.. i'm sorry!" you spit out, jumping back from him once you come to your senses. "i..someone came home and i got scared but..i..um, i wasn't...wow," you stutter out stupidly and he watches you with a smug smirk on his face.

"wow, what?"

your eyes shoot up to his teasing ones and your brows furry together before you shake your head to snap out of it.

"wow i'm really cold in these wet clothes," you say sarcastically, an awkward laugh bubbling out of your mouth, "i thought you dragged me here so i could change."

his eyebrow raises at your sassiness and his tongue sweeps over his top row of teeth, a tiny hum leaving his mouth. he turns to go into his bottom drawer, broad back on display and you swallow down the nervous lump building in your throat.

you knew he was beautiful but this...

clothes are then flying at you and you catch them with a surprised grunt. "bathroom's there, perv," he teases before turning to rifle through his drawers for another shirt.

you scoff, cheeks burning as you hum an apology because you're too embarrassed to speak. 

you waddle over to the bathroom, totally not surprised he has one right in his room, as you quickly change. 

you drain the excess water from your clothes into the sink and ponder aloud why he needs two sinks and that'd you give anything to have that clawfoot tub before coming out with your eyes closed.

"are you clothed? is it safe?" you ask and a quiet chuckle leaves his mouth.

"yes, y/n."

your eyes pop open and his eyes are dark watching you. he realizes quickly he had severely underestimated the effect it'd have on him seeing you in his clothes. 

because he can't stop his eyes from trailing over you, from noticing how much bigger they are on you and how they engulf you and will leave with his scent.

he licks his dry lips and meets your unsure gaze, walking over and slightly lifting your chin with his fingers.

"that better?" he asks, voice deep and a little strained. 

you don't trust your own voice either so you can only nod, his gaze and warm fingers on you rendering you speechless. his eyes roam your face and you hold your breath when his other hand comes up and slowly swipes under your eye, slight puffiness from the thirty minutes you spent with your tears.

"did he make you cry?"

you drop your gaze to the floor, teeth in your lip nervously because you don't wanna answer when you both know it's a pathetic yes.

it only causes anger to rip inside him, jaw clenched tight and he knows where he's going the second he drops you home.

"look at me," he says and his voice always holds so much control and authority you find yourself listening.

"i'm sorry everyone's been giving you shit," he says, and you're surprised by his words. but you can see he means them, the sympathy shining in his eyes and the soft sincerity clear in his tone.

"it's okay, it's not your fault," you mumble, licking your dry bottom lip because this whole encounter is making you very nervous. 

you wiggle your feet to deal with the anxiety building up and your shoes squeak, black flats soggy and you know your only pair of formal shoes are probably ruined.

"yeosang will apology."

he says it so firmly and confidently and you're unsure if you're nervous from his tone or the reminder of your mean tutor's name.

"i told you i don't want his apology," you tell him meekly, "it doesn't even matter."

"it does," he growls and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, dropping this conversation as you turn around to examine his bedroom. 

it's huge and neat but surprisingly not as ritzy as the rest of his house. you feel like you can breathe in here without ruining something.

"i like your room."

he knows you're trying to change the topic but supposes you've dwelled on the incident long enough. so his eyes follow you as you prance around the room, noticeably more comfortable in here than outside in the foyer and hallway.

"yeah?"

"yeah," you say, a small smile on your face as you turn to look at him. his lips curve into a smile of his own as he looks at you and it's something that should feel weird, softly smiling at one another from across the room. but it's...nice, putting a warmness in you that's making you feel just a little bit happier.

he walks over to you and you back up, hitting the wall and you're wondering how you've managed to corner yourself in a room of this size.

"what do you like about it?"

"why do you always have to make me nervous?"

a chuckle leaves his mouth, his hand coming up to smooth out a piece of your damp hair before his hand slips down to yours.

"follow me."

you don't know what you were expecting when he told you to follow him, told you to sit on the counter in his bathroom to which you nearly freaked out because it's a beautiful white marble countertop.

but of course, you ended up listening and here you are sitting criss-crossed staring in the mirror as seonghwa blow dries your hair.

his touch is soft and gentle and the whole time your heart is constricting because he gives you serious whiplash.

dominates you and gives you commands one minute and then acts so...soft and sweet the next. you look at him through the mirror, his face relaxed as he delicately flicks the stands back and forth until your hair is completely dry.

"thank you," you squeak out when he's done, finally at his eye level.

"you're welcome," he says, smoothing out one fluffy section, "it looks pretty."

you nearly choke on the sharp inhale you take, pressing your head back into the mirror as your heart starts to pick up again. 

because your brain and body just can't get used to his eye contact. because it's always so intense, like he's staring into your soul and trying to completely pick you apart under his gaze.

he's inching forward a bit, you don't even think he knows he's doing it, so you try to move your head backward but it's gonna crack the mirror if you press it any harder against it.

"seonghwa," you breathe out nervously and it's like that's all he needs to snap out of it.

"you wanna get going?" he suddenly asks because while he wouldn't at all be opposed to you staying, he thinks it's probably for the better if you don't. because you being here, looking at him the way you are and breathing the way you are has him feeling...out of control. and weak. and he doesn't like that.

"uh-yeah..i, uh probably should."

he holds out his hand for you to take and you jump off the counter, walking in front of him as he guides you by the small of your back. and the heat of his palm nearly burns through you, warm and tingling all the way in the hall, down the stairs and out the door.

he had done it so fast and steadily, too, that you have a feeling it might've been to avoid the angry man that came barreling through before. and for that, you're grateful. 

because the last thing you wanna do is embarrass yourself in front of his esteemed parents wearing his clothes paired with frizzy hair and your soaked uniform in hand.

you wipe the seat with your sleeve before plopping down and watching out the window as you quietly give him directions to your house, trying to calm yourself down from the events of the last half hour. 

you watch as the mansions fade and houses more like yours come into view. humble, little two-story houses that definitely need some landscaping or an extra paint job.

he pulls up in front of your house a few minutes later and you try to ignore the feeling of embarrassment creeping up on you. because coming from his place to yours is a little...discouraging. bringing you back to reality that he's who he is and you're who you are.

even more so when you see him examining your house.

"i know, it could probably fit in yours," you say quietly, a mix of humor and vulnerability in your tone.

"don't do that," he says firmly, eyes immediately meeting yours.

you swallow nervously, biting the inside of your cheek and doing your best to maintain eye contact with him. but it's holding that same intensity from before, nearly burning another hole through you and you've gotta get out of here.

"anyways," you mumble, tearing your gaze from him as you gather your things, "thank you again for the ride. and the clothes. i'll get these back to you tomorrow."

"keep 'em."

your head snaps to the side to look at him, eyebrows furrying together and you hate that the mean little voice in the back of your head immediately starts telling you he offered because he sees your house. that he now feels bad for you and is acting like you're a charity case.

but you quickly shake the thoughts out of your mind. because he's been so nice to you, hasn't given you a reason to think like that and you feel stupid for even having that deprecating thought in your head.

but those facts also don't stop you from asking, "why?"

his only response to give you that look, the one that renders you speechless and makes you feel small.

"can i do something for you?" he suddenly asks.

"haven't you done enough?"

the words are meant to be playful but then the way he's leaning over the black console, his face only inches from yours and his eyes roaming your face, has your stomach swooshing dangerously.

you swallow the lump in your throat, eyes falling to his lips before looking back up. "what?"

he has to suppress the urge to smirk at your squeaky, wobbly voice because cute.

"let me drive you to school."

you pull your head back in shock, turning your head to the side because you weren't expecting that.

"what, were you expecting a different offer?" he asks, eyes dropping to your lips for a second and now you know he's 100% fucking with you.

your eyebrows furrow together, your hand coming out to swat his arm as your cheeks start to warm.

"no! i just...i have my bike, i don't need-"

"you didn't have it today," he notes, "and what about when it rains?"

"it's not necessary, seonghwa," you say, opening the door and stepping outside because you're really about to pass out in there, "but thank you for the offer. and for everything else today."

you give him one last smile, waving your fingers at him in a goodbye wave before softly closing the door.

you make your way into the house, his car still parked in front as you make your way in after one last goodbye wave. 

your head hits the back of the door with a sigh, closing your eyes and breathing in the familiar scent of his clothes that surround you while trying to calm your fuzzy mind and jumping heart.

you feel your cat purr against your leg, pushing her head into seonghwa's sweatpants and you can't help but scoff because even she still likes him.

"i don't know what to make of him, luna," you say to her, bending down to pet the top of her head. she only meows in response and you smile softly, making your way upstairs to plop down in bed.

but when morning comes and you leave your house in a rush, you know exactly what to make of park seonghwa.

because there is, sitting in front of your house with his windows down, music blaring and you shake your head in confusion because you've got to be seeing things.

"what are doing here!" you squeak out, rushing towards the car and staring at him in disbelief.

"i told you i was driving you," he says, as if you'd forgotten plans you had mutually agreed to.

a part of you is annoyed. annoyed at his disregard for you saying no and annoyed that his rich boy tendencies are shining through.

"and i told you it wasn't necessary," you whine, bent down so your arms rest on the open window, "now people are really gonna think i'm your maid and hate me even more and-"

"y/n."

"and it just makes no sense why you're being so-"

"y/n."

"and i told you this totally wasn't needed so-"

"i wanted to see you," he blurts out and your rambling gets cut off immediately, heart fluttering and feeling like it's falling down into your stomach. your mouth opens and closes three times, unsure of what to say so you blurt out:

"what?"

a small laugh leaves his mouth, adverting his eye contact and tightening his grip on the wheel.

"maybe if you get in, i can tell you."

you give him a challenging look, squinting your eyes and turning your head to the side.

"we're gonna be late," he says.

you peak at the time in his car and sigh seeing he's right, giving him one more begrudged look before plopping down on the leather seat. you fold your arms like an unhappy child and you just know from his scoff that he's shaking his head at you.

"wouldn't have pegged you as a brat," he mumbles and you snap your head to the side.

"a brat?! you're the one who didn't even listen to me when i said-"

he silences your mouth with his finger and you'd have half the mind to bite it if his physical presence didn't make you feel so weak and mousy. 

you just never know when he's gonna switch, when he's gonna smile and laugh at you or go all...this seonghwa on you. 

he presses his finger down on your mouth, applying the tiniest bit of pressure before dragging it off and tucking a piece of hair behind your hair.

"i'm sorry if my want to see you and give you a ride offends you," he says sarcastically, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before taking off down the block.

"it doesn't offend me, there's just no need to inconvenience yourself."

you watch as he rolls his eyes, keeping them on the road intently and acting as if your eyes aren't boring into his face.

"what are you doing friday night?" he suddenly asks, breaking the solid three minutes of silence.

"nothing," you say simply, because it's the truth.

"come to my friend's party."

(part 5)

[blkgirl-writing]

“Burned Cookies”

Jo March x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jo March can’t keep her eyes off of you. But she doesn’t quite know what to do for her feelings about a coworker, let alone a Woman.

A/N: THIS IS IT!!! My big, long awaited Jo March smut. I’m at work and decided fuck it, i’m gonna finish my fic. Thank everyone for dealing with me as I wrote this.

Warnings!: Bisexual reader, Fingering, Grinding, some internal homophobia at first, less Dom!Jo than I would have liked. MOSTLY FLUFF!!!

words: 3.1k

"You've always got your head stuck in your writings, Jo," you smiled, brushing your hand across her shoulder as you walked by. Dressed in your newest winter coat, you only meant to tease your fellow teacher in passing. But she grabbed your hand, and smirked up at you.

"Just like you are always in your music," Jo said, pulling you into the back of her chair, and resting your intertwined hands on her shoulder. "One cannot criticize if once does the exact same thing."

"I certainly wasn't criticizing only the best writer in New York...I was making a glaringly obvious observation." You pressed your fingers inter her skin, coaxing her into calmness as you massaged.

"The best writer in New York simply isn't true. You must not fuel my growing ego," Jo scorned, though a smirk clear on her lips.

"Maybe I wanna see a more confident Jo March. One that will let me read her stories, instead of running away everytime I ask," you hummed slyly, resting your chin on top of her head, trying to get a look at her writings.

"I do not!" Jo turned, attempting to slap your hand, but you moved away quickly laughing as she faked fury. Though, she couldn’t hide the small blush on her cheeks. 

"Oh yes you do, my dear." With that, you walked off, giving a playful spin as you made your way to the front of the school.

"I'm off to the Opera! I'll tell you about it when I'm back!"

"You should be the one in it, not watching!" Jo yelled after you. You shot Jo a kind smile, and closed the front door. The brisk cold air hitting your skin instantly.

_

It was dark by the time you got back. Feet sore from the mile or two walk. You didn't have enough money for a carriage, and you did like the city atmosphere, the lights from the apartments, the crowded streets...but that did not make the trek in heels and some snowfall any less painful.

You let out a deep sigh of relief when you closed the door behind. Finally able to kick off your shoes, hang up the heavy wool coat.

The fireplace was still crackling. Making your way into the dimly lit living room, you saw Jo still sitting there. Nose still in her paper...a cup of tea placed beside her, hair down and hanging loose over her shoulders.

"You should be asleep, you know." You hummed , taking a seat across from Jo. She lifted her eyes up to you, setting down the pen for a moment.

"I don't need much sleep, anyway." Jo muttered, voice low amd a bit raspy. "How was the opera?"

"Magical, truly. You would have hated it, though. The story was terrible. But the lead made up for everything." You laughed, 

"Bad writing with good acting doesn't make up for a bad base.” Jo muttered, 

"I know, I know..." you said. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”

That’s how you found yourself making cookies at 1am with Jo March. Promising each other no flour would be wasted, nor throw at each other (even if it was quite fun.) The ovens fire lit up the room just enough to see, and the few candles around just added to the glow. Neither of you were starved as much as just an hour prior, but no one wanted to admit that maybe the company was what they really wanted.

“No, you put the flour in with the sugar, not with the wets,” You said, gently grasping Jo’s hand, moving it away from the bowl. She audibly sighed at the touch, though, her body tensed at the movement. 

“You okay, Jo?” you muttered, voice low, trying to get a glance at her face. She turned away from you, shaking her hand off of yours.

“Fine, don’t worry about it.” She smiled, forced. “Should we add cinnamon to these? I feel like it needs something warm-” 

“Great idea. Cinnamon..Clove? Maybe some Cardamom?” you stepped to the cupboards, where the shelves of endless spices lay. “Almost like a chai.” 

“Of course you’d want plain Chocolate chip cookies to be flavored chai as well.” Jo scoffed, though playfully. She leaned against the counter, watching as you carefully looked through the racks. Admiring you. How you looked in the dim candle light. Proper clothes abandoned. You shed your top and overskirt, leaving you with just Corset stays and a white skirt. A apron loosely tied around your waist. It felt so intimate. So quiet, while everyone slept in the big house. It was so easy to forget it wasn’t just you and her. Alone, but together.  

“Jo? You’re taller than me. Would you mind grabbing the nutmeg from the top shelf for me?” You turned around, pouting hopelessly as you begged her. “Be a dear??? For me,” 

“Barely taller,” She joked, stepping towards you. The wooden floor creaked  as she stepped, sounding far too loud through the heavy air. 

“Makes a difference,” you said, nudging her side.  As Jo reached up, her skirt came loose from her skirt, revealing her pale skin. You couldn’t look away, even if you tried.

“No corset? You’re very ahead of the time.” You poked the open skin, feeling how cold she was. Your finger lingers there for a bit...too long to mean nothing. The thought crosses your mind to just keep it there...to press your whole hand to her back. But you pull away, letting the silly thoughts fade away. 

“You know me,” Jo said, letting a breathy laugh escape her lips as she came down from her tippy toes, handing you the Nutmeg that you had almost forgotten about.

“Yes, and i’m very glad I do.” Smiling, you reached for her hand, letting your fingers linger on hers for a few moments, before taking the spice from them. Her hands were so cold, you were quite surprised they were fully functional. 

“Now...what were we up to?” You Hummed, turning on the heel of your foot, and padding to the sink, where the very clear mess you two made was. 

“When do we get to the chocolate part?” Jo whined, leaning her head on your shoulder, peering over at the flour mixture you had whipped up in a flurry.

“Soon enough, my writer. Even faster if you actually did you half-”

“Hey! I was trying, before you asked me to reach up for a spice you didn’t even need,” Jo quipped, turning around swiftly to lean against the counter, head turned to you.

 “you’re pretty like this,” Jo muttered, biting at her already raw lips. Her eyes scanned over your face, searching for something you couldn’t figure out. But she was studying you like a book. 

“Thank you,” You smiled. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

You cooked in silence, for too long. Jo quietly doing her own little task. Avoiding your worried gaze. And once you put the cookies in to bake, you two stood against the counter. Eyes drifting in different directions. The lack of contact was killing you. And Jo wasn’t much better,

"Y/n?" Jo asked, eyes now...almost filled with tears? The dim light revealed very little to the face, but you could see that she was sad, distressed.

"Yes, dear?" You quickly sat up, crossing the tea table to sit on the floor in front of Jo, reaching for her hands. Though, she pulled away, sorrow riddled through her eyes.

"I...I think I'm confused. I don't know what to do.”

"Talk to me." You urged, reaching for her hand. And though she flinched at the cold touch, Jo laced her fingers with yours. 

"Im...  I find myself attracted to women." She admitted, as if it was stuck in her throat. Words tumbling out and falling to the floor. She still refused to look at you. Silence filling the air for a long few moments. Letting the time sink in. Too much time for Jo to like. She was so scared, that you would tell, laugh, maybe even hurt her? She didn’t know. It was all so unclear. All she knew was that she was extremely attracted to you, and more so than any friend should be. And she had never felt that way towards a man, and when she tried, it made herself sick. “And it feels wrong. I have a friend back at home I should have been able to love. But I don’t. And...I’m quite sure now it’s because he isn’t a she. And I'm horrible because of that.”

“That’s what has got you so?” You spoke, a hint of a laugh in your breathy voice. “Jo, I’ve always known I like Boys as much as I like Girls. And I'm not the least bit afraid. It is simply who I am. I am not horrible for that. Neither are you.”

“What?” She gasped, word rushed, said with very little thought. The admission of your own was so confident, so true to yourself. It shook her to her core. 

“Is this shocking? I mean, I wear so much plaid, I thought it was obvious-” You chuckled, biting down your lip to keep from being too loud.

“Plaid doesn’t make you Queer,” Jo slapped your arm, you winced at the small amount of pain, calling out her name playfully. 

“Misses Turnime and lady Lilian? They’re a couple. And no one can ever name a day they went without plaid something.” You laughed, “I'm not saying we all wear plaids, but…”

Jo paused. 

“You’re...Okay then? With me?” Jo asked, eyes coming to meet yours. A sparkle of tears hanging from her cheeks. She appeared so with it, so confident all of the time. It was odd seeing her like this. It broke your heart.

“Oh Jo, don’t cry. Of course I’m okay with it. In fact, I’m quite pleased.” You smiled softly, reaching out to wipe the tears away from her skin. Delicately pressing a hand on her jaw, you leaned in, placing a quick, small kiss just off of her lips. “I’ve had my eyes on you since we ran into each other on the train.”

“You’re messing with me-” Jo stared at you, completely dumbstruck. Lips parted, brows furrowed. “No...no way. You couldn’t.” 

“And why could I not?” You whispered, just barely enough to hear. Honestly, you wanted a different reaction. You didn’t want to hurt her. Did you hurt her? “I-I hope I didn’t ruin anything-”

“No! No, I just...I’ve been admiring you, so graceful and beautiful. I can’t Imagine you liking homely old me. The girl too caught up in her work. You're..you.” She bit down on her bottom lip, eyes wandering down to her lap, obviously gathering the words going a mile a minute in her mind. “You’re just so pretty.”

“I don’t know why it’s so hard to Imagine, Jo. You’re pure perfection.” You smirked, placing fingers under her chin, lifting her head up to meet your eyes.

“Can I kiss you, Josephine March?” 

“Please, yes.” She inched closer to you, fluttering her eyes shut, letting you close the small gap.

She could have sworn, the stars aligned when your lips met hers. So soft and warm, fitting perfectly to each other. Her hand hesitantly wrapped around your waist, the other going up to your neck. Unsure, yet it all felt right. Just right. She couldn’t help the moan that came from her chest, bubbling up as she  moved away from your lips, and tucked her head into the crook of your neck. Pressing kisses along the skin there. 

 The pair stumbled into the living room, Jo unable to keep her hands off of you, desperate for more. And you drinking in the passion she so effortlessly gave you.

Jo laid you down on the couch, the light of the fireplace dimly glowing behind. It lit up your bodies, warm toned and cozy. Keeping the red hot fire between you. Her gaze so sharp, digging into your chest. Corset pushed down slightly, just enough for your nipples to pop out of the boned stays, pushed upon place. Skirt fully abandoned, you were truly a work of art. A painting, a song played with careful hands, a poem from the gods. Jo bit down on her lip, keeping herself from voicing too many of those helpless thoughts.

The way Jo looked over you, taking her hand and grabbing your jaw, kissing you with such force and power, it felt fucking fantastic. Power lacing through her fingers. She could make you feel pleasure, she could make you moan. 

Her lips trailed hot down your exposed chest, her hands working at untying the white skirt keeping her from going any further down. 

Your chest heaved against the corset, breaths shirt and eyes never leaving Jo. She was on fire. Beautiful and fierce. As soon as she finished with the ties, you lifted your hips so she could slide it right off, exposing your lower half completely. Jo's warm hands grasping your hips,  pressing them down into the soft cushion of the couch. 

You worked at getting her undressed, throwing her clothes haphazardly across the room, until she was just in her drawers, that hung loosely from her thin frame. You let your hands travel from her waist to her breasts, brushing against her nipples.

"Jo...please touch me," you whispered, fingers intertwining in her soft hair. The hair you had wanted to touch for too long. It was just as good as you had hoped. And the small moan that escaped her lips when you did so was even better.

It only seemed like seconds, time flashed by as she brushed her fingers against your heat, rubbing light circles against where you needed her most. Back arched and lips parted, you moaned out her name like a prayer, and she watched every small move you made. So entrenched by your body. She drank in the sight, it was easily the most beautiful thing she had seen. Like a painting from the gods, perfect in every way.

Then, a finger dipped into you, pushing in and out so slowly, dragging out the firey feeling that lit inside you. Your breath was heavy, and her lips on yours kept from releasing the dirtiest of sounds. 

Jo lightly grinded against your thigh as she worked her fingers into you, lips planted on the sensitive skin of your neck. It was hard for her to hide how turned on she was by you, how such little touch would bring her to her own climax. 

Your hand traveled down to her ass, pushing down the linen as you grabbed on tight, fingers surely leaving marks. It was her turn to whisper your name, shaky and light, begging for a release. 

“Cum with me, Jo,” Just like that, with her lips against yours, in sync, you came undone. Moaning against her as you shook through your orgasm, her own following right behind you. Heaven touched the two of you in a moment of pure bliss. You stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t until she pulled her fingers from you that you were jolted into reality. Forgetting what had happened wasn’t some sort of dream, or amazing fantasy. Jo was naked, on top of you. And completely in love.

Jo’s hair now frizzy, a layer of sweat clear in the dim light. She stared down at you with a small, satisfied smile. Cheeks red, flushed. She looked like a goddess.

“that was-” You panted,eyes wide as your tried to grasp for air. 

“-Ethereal,” Jo finished, Guiding you to sit up. Faces inches apart, chests press together. You could barely feel her heartbeat, but it was there. Fast and hard. Her fingers pressed to your lower back, butterfly like.

“Jo?” You whispered, holding back a laugh as you pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I think the cookies are burning-”

“I like them crispy, anyway.”

_____

@sofia-r-1604​ @nina-a-holt​​ @rareimagine​​ @minelskede​​ @sweet-cottage-lesbian​​ @idontlikepancakes​​ @crazymexicanfangirl​​ @lordbyronbutworse​​

[dreamofbetterthings]

“Stay.” James T. Kirk x reader

Celebrity: James T. Kirk (played by Chris Pine)

Movie: (Kelvin Timeline Star Trek, Star Trek: Into Darkness, and Star Trek: Beyond)

Prompt: 9. "Stay"

Spoilers: None, this doesn't take place during any of the films.

Summary: The mission went wrong. Terribly wrong. Everyone made it back on the Enterprise, but unfortunately, someone was hurt. 

Warnings: ANGST UP TO THE EYES PEOPLE

A/N

I have been MIA for a long while, and I apologize. I'm going through a pretty tough patch right now, so please bear with me. I'll try and start uploading regularly again. This is part of the #Lovermrjokerr8kchallenge They recently reached 8k followers on here. I love their work, and they deserve all the love in the world. Go ahead and check them out. @lovermrjokerr​ Thank you for letting me be a part of this, congrats again on 8k followers! BTW what is said in the gif isn’t actually in the story. This was literally the only image I could find of that scene that fit. This is a little different than how I normally write, so feel free to let me know what you think.

Tuesday 3:00 PM

You look down at your shaky hands and feel sick to your stomach. They're stained dark. It was the color of wine Uhura drank too much of a couple of nights before. The sensation of excessive heat burning through your body at one time. It was the feeling of knowing that something was wrong. Going over to the sink in the room, you scrub your hands as your life depended on it. Under your nails, up to your elbows, and anywhere there was still crimson. Despite your hands being clean, you still scrubbed until your hands went numb. After drying them off, Bones walked into the room and you made your way over to him. 

"How is he Leonard?" His jaw tensed. You never called him by his real name unless something serious happened. He sighed and motioned towards the door. "If you didn't jump in when you did, then he'd still be bleeding out. We sewed up the gash you found and checked for any others, but we only found the one. I made an antidote from the bullet you brought back and gave it to him. We're going to do a couple of tests as soon as his symptoms go away, just to be sure he's in stable condition. If we tried doing it now then we could risk a flare-up." You nodded and glanced towards the door. "Can I go see him?" A small frown appears on the doctor's face and you have your answer. "Not right now. I'm sorry. Once the antidote fully takes effect, then you should be able to stay with him." His PADD goes off and he gives your hand a small squeeze before going back into the room.

Tuesday 6:00 PM

A flat-line broke the silence in the room and you were up and alert. Leonard instantly came out of the room knowing that you would want to go in. He held you in place while you tried to move past him aggressively. "Let me go...please. I see to see him." Tears brimmed your eyes as you tried to enter the room. Making eye contact with you, he forced you to stop. "Look, you've done more than enough to help him. Right now, I need you to stay out here or everything we did...everything you just did would have been for nothing. I'll come and get you as soon as I can, but I need you to stay here for me, and for him. Please." You glance behind him but quickly close your eyes, feeling the tears falling down your face. Giving him a nod, you reluctantly step away and go sit down. As long as Leonard has been your friend, he has never seen you so heartbroken. So vulnerable. He gives you one last look before hearing a nurse call out "Doctor McCoy! He's still crashing!" and running back into the room.

Thursday 10:00 PM

You didn't want to sleep, but that seemed to be the only option at the time instead of pacing around the room. You were still in the clothes from your mission, not wanting to go change in case he was awake. You felt a gentle shake of your shoulder, causing your eyes to open. Leonard was standing over you with a cup of water in his hand. "I would have woke you up earlier, but you looked like you needed the rest." Groggily sitting up from the now very uncomfortable spot in the chair, he hands you a cup of water. After drinking practically the whole cup, you ask "How long was I out?" He checks his watch. "About four hours." Your eyes widen for a moment before mumbling, "I guess I did need some sleep." Leonard nodded and there was a silence before he spoke up again. 

"He's alright. He flat-lined again after you went to sleep, but we got him back. All of his symptoms are gone, but now he needs two pints of blood to replace what he lost earlier. I really hate to ask this of you, but I know you're a universal donor. Do y-" You cut him off and give him a small nod. "I already know, and I'll do it." Leonard suddenly becomes even more serious. "If we do this, then I have to watch over your vitals too. I don't expect anything bad to happen, but I can't take any chances. I had someone on my team swap the chairs with the couch in the waiting room, so you have something a little bit more comfortable to sit on." 

After a quick stretch to loosen your stiff body, you follow Leonard into the medbay. You go to a room in the back and that's when you ultimately get a chance to fully see him without all the medical personnel. Cautiously walking over to the side of the bed, you get a good look at his face for the first time. His name finally being able to slip from your lips. 

"Jim."

He looked awful. Thin wires of ash and blue flames crawled up his neck and passed by his sunken-in eyes. Almost as if he was sick and fighting for his life, and he finally lost. You took a seat on the couch, very happy to be on something that wasn't rock hard. Very hesitantly, you took Jim's hand in yours. It was almost stone-cold, but still, you hoped that they would return to their comfortable warmth. Leonard came over with all his materials and gave a nod. Giving him one in return, he got started. 

Friday 2:00 AM

You were growing restless. The transfusion worked, and the color returned to Jim's face, but he didn't wake up. Leonard said that it could take a few days for his body to fully function, but you couldn't stand not knowing for sure. You refused to leave his side, with the exception of Leonard forcing you out to change out of your mission clothes and into something else. Jim's hand was intertwined with your every hour of the day, wanting him to know that someone was here for him and that they weren't going anywhere. It was late, or early rather, and you were still sitting on that couch holding Jim's hand while going through some paperwork you missed days before. It was too hard for you to concentrate on the stupid paperwork with everything going on. With a sigh, you closed the file and tossed the pen on the side table. You sat there for a while, just breathing. Just thinking. That's when you felt it. 

A squeeze on your hand. 

Sitting up and almost giving yourself a headache, you glanced back and forth between your hand and his still closed eyes. You whispered quietly. "Jim? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand again. Just a little squeeze. Okay?" You kept glancing at his hand in yours, waiting to feel the same sensation you were dying to feel again. After a couple of minutes of no response, you sighed and looked down, trying not to cry again. That's when you felt it the second time, only longer. You blinked the tears away and looked over at his hand in yours. Giving it a small squeeze yourself, you watch as his arm tenses up and does the same back to you. Looking at his face, you see his eyes trying to open, and that's when you get even more excited. "Yes Jim, yes! Open your eyes for me, please. I'm still here, I can feel you squeezing my hand. I won't go anywhere, but I need you to try and open your eyes." You can see his closed eyes darting around, almost like he was in REM sleep. It only takes a few moments, before you feel a strong grip on your hand, and then the unthinkable happens.

Jim's eyes open.

He blinks a few times to get used to the dim light in the medbay and starts to look around. Not wanting to crowd him, you lean back a little and let him finally make eye contact with you on his own. His eyes were calm, like flowing waterfalls, soft like the sky in the morning and sweet like biting into cotton candy. They were vibrant, they were open, and they were looking at you. Your lip quivers and those tears come back again. With a shaky voice, you call out to him, actually happy that he can answer. "J-Jim?" He gives you a small smile and whispers out,

“Hey." 

Before you break down and wrapped your arms around him. He was able to move his arms and put them around you just as tightly. His scent was as strong as a slap in the face and bit into your nose like an animal with sharp teeth. You couldn't comprehend anything else, so you could only say his name quietly over and over. You cried until salty tears were the only familiar taste on your tongue. But still, you hung onto your captain, and your friend, and practically dug your nails into his skin like he was all you had left. You got ready to get up and go get Leonard, but Jim leaned into your embrace and raspily whispered one word in your ear. "Stay." A smile found it's way onto your face for the first time in four days, and it couldn't have felt better. "I'm not going anywhere, Jim. I promise."

[dailydianakko]

Dreaming-LWA AU Oneshot

YOOOOO I’m back but not with more ink slinger :’) Please take this oneshot as a consolation prize. This is pretty much an unnamed au that wouldn’t leave me alone haha. Anyway, I have a trip in about a week (guess who is gonna see the lovely Mod Nightly), so I will try to crank out chapter three soon. Anyway, here is the au. Also on AO3 Here.

Diana let out a quiet inward sigh. The golden aura that emanated from the still butterfly cupped in her cold hands drifted towards her nostrils in a spiral with each breath she took. She gave one final sharp breath, and it disappeared. Blue eyes glowed as the Butterfly’s dream flashed through her mind. Darkness, struggling, light, an open meadow filled with flowers of all colors, a warm sun, a sparkling lake whose shores were scattered with white stones. Truly this dream was beautiful. Diana closed her eyes and savored the final taste of the dream. Then, she placed the sleeping butterfly back where it first lay, hidden under a leaf. Diana gazed up at the full moon. A cloud had covered it sometime during her meal. She could still feel the warm summer breeze on her skin, a quiet contrast to the slight chill of the summer night. 

 Quietly she stepped through the tall grass; her bare feet muffled the noise of her steps. The long green tendrils brushed the hem of her skirt and tickled her translucent feet. She paid the sensation no mind. Diana had a mission to fulfill. She may have eaten her fill of dreams tonight, but she wanted to collect more. The glittering jars of dream pearls she held at home didn’t satisfy her. Her kind was greedy and never satisfied. They could not dream, and so they stole from others. Sorrowful dreams in their dark blues, joyful dreams like small embers, even the ‘bad’ dreams; colored in their dark purples and blacks. All were beautiful as they were empty. Diana wanted them all. Diana paused as a quiet noise joined the night’s song. It did not belong in the serenade of chirping crickets and flapping bat wings. Diana cocked her head as the noise made itself known once more. Breathing. It was a human’s soft snores, coming from one of the tall maple trees in the glen. 

 Diana wouldn’t call it curiosity that made her seek out exactly who was making the noise, but rather it was the feeling of greed. For quiet snores meant sleeping and sleeping meant dreams. Hers was a selfish motive. Diana practically glided through the small glen towards the source of the snores. As she got closer, she identified the sleeping person as a human girl. The girl was in a ragged school uniform and was sleeping quite heavily; curled into the roots of the old maple. Her back was propped up by the trunk and her head was lolling to the side. Her brunette hair was tangled, and her small topknot was half undone and tangled with twigs. Diana let out a quiet haughty sniff at the sight of drool slowly dripping from the comatose girl’s mouth. Yet she ignored the disheveled look of her prey, simply because of the silver aura that had begun to rise. A dream was being born.

 Diana slowly bent down and reached out to smooth the girl’s hair. No movement other than the soft rise and fall of the girl’s chest. She truly was asleep.  Diana prided herself on being cautious, for during the witching hour, ayakashi and yokai like herself were visible to the more sensitive humans. She watched for a minute longer, and the silver aura began to show hues of gold. Ever so slowly, she reached out and grabbed the wrist of the sleeper next to her. It was time to collect this dream. Diana didn’t expect the girl’s eyes to open. Sharp blue met a dazed red. “Hello.”

 Diana dropped the now awake girl’s wrist like she had been burned. She nearly fell over from shock. Diana could have sworn that this human couldn’t possibly see her. The wind. The night wind had blown back the clouds, allowing the light to shine on her body. No longer was her form covered in the shadow. The light allowed even the dullest human to perceive her. Diana let out a quiet curse and turned to go. Humans were a vain race, one that withered shortly after being born. They were but a single breath during a yokai’s lifetime, and it wouldn’t do to mingle. A warm hand clasped her wrist. An echo from her own touch earlier.

 “Please wait. I’m a little lost” The brunette nervously ran a hand through her hair as she gripped Diana’s wrist. “I am Atsuko Kagari, do you know the way out of this forest? I was at the lodge with my uncle and I wandered off and got lost, I really need help.”

 Diana let out a sigh. Humans these days had no sense. Giving out a name without regards to the multitude of harmful spells that could be cast. No regard for any self-preservation whatsoever. How foolish could they be? Diana attempted to pry Akko’s hand from her wrist. “No. Wait here. I am sure a rescue will come for you soon.” Diana refused to meet those eyes again. It was a lie that a rescue would come. This glen was hidden well. A playground for spirits. Akko would either starve or some other yokai would come and finish her off.

 Diana freed herself with a twist, and Atsuko let out a cry of dismay. Diana took a step away from her, and Atsuko retaliated by flinging herself around Diana’s waist. Diana stood firm and let out a quiet sigh, one hand resting on the brown locks of hair. They were soft. She could feel Atsuko’s tears leaking through her shirt, and the quiet fearful shakes that ran through the brunette’s body. This was turning out to be quite bothersome. She might as well rid herself of Atsuko now, rather than resort to expending more effort on the human. Besides, if she learned of where the human lived, she could harvest dreams from her.  Once more she twisted herself from Atsuko’s iron grip.

 “Come.” Diana said as she held out a hand. Comfort was a human need, and it was more preferable to have the sobbing girl clinging to her hand than her whole body. Atsuko’s hand frantically clasped Diana’s. It seemed as if Atsuko didn’t notice the translucent state of Diana’s body. Diana gently tugged Atsuko forward, ignoring Atsuko’s frantic scrubbing of her face. It was a futile effort to wipe away tears and snot. Atsuko was merely spreading dirt around. Sighing heavily once more, Diana halted her steps. She reached into the breast pocket of her shirt and pulled out a handkerchief embroidered with lavender. “Here.”

 Atsuko took the handkerchief with a watery smile and a thank you. She carefully wiped away all the dirt on her face and offered it back to Diana. Why Atsuko thought she would want a filthy handkerchief back was beyond Diana’s reasoning. Diana let out a hum and pushed it back to Atsuko. “I have no use for it, Atsuko. Keep it or throw it away. I care not.”

 “Alright,” Akko said as she stowed it in her skirt pocket. “And, um, you can call me Akko. Atsuko feels sort of stiff.” Diana let out a noncommittal hum. It wouldn’t do to get attached to a human. Besides, this one was a rather filthy and silly one. It certainly did not cater to Diana’s refined taste.

 “I see nothing wrong with Atsuko. Therefore I shall call you what I wish, human.” Diana turned away and resumed her walk, practically tugging Atsuko off her feet in her haste. She frowned as she heard Atsuko giggle slightly. She picked up her pace. Humans were rather annoying, and she did not wish to be in Atsuko’s company any longer. Diana kept her quick walk until she heard Atsuko’s smooth breaths turn ragged. Humans tired so easily, and they were only halfway down the mountain. Diana slowed her steps, allowing Atsuko to regain her breath. Diana frowned as she realized Atsuko was still trailing behind and beginning to stumble. Humans may not be able to see well at night, but the moon was bright tonight. Surely Atsuko was just incapable. She stumbled again and Diana let out a quiet groan of annoyance. It couldn’t be helped. 

 “Here, Atsuko.” Diana released Atsuko’s and stepped in close. She placed one hand on Atsuko’s back and stooped down. She ignored the stutters of protest that flew from Atsuko’s mouth. She swept Atsuko’s legs out from under her and hoisted her up effortlessly. Once more she began her trek, ignoring the blubbering of the human in her arms. This certainly was faster. Diana glanced down at Atsuko. The brunette had taken on the color of a late autumn apple and was attempting to cover her face. Inwardly Diana smiled. Though they were ugly, humans were amusing. It made her want to play a trick or two. However, Diana ignored the impulse. She needed to collect more dreams after this, the moon would set soon. With the fading of the night, the higher quality dreams would fade as well.

 Diana began to slow as they approached the foot of the mountain. Human lodgings were usually around this area. They loved to live in clans, and would be searching for Atsuko without a doubt. Diana scanned the trees, searching for torch fire and the shine of flashlights. Diana spared a glance at Atsuko. It seemed like she had grown tired during the journey, and had been lulled to sleep in Diana’s arms. Diana’s eyes shot back to the tree line as she saw a harsh light cut through the shadows and heard the frantic deep calls of a male human. The call for Atsuko’s name assured Diana that this was indeed  the settlement Atsuko had come from. 

 She gently shook Atsuko awake. It wouldn’t do to get punched in the face by a startled human. It wouldn’t hurt, but it was annoying to have to deal with apologies. Atsuko let out a few sleepy mumbles, and Diana shook her slightly harder. Atsuko’s eyes slowly fluttered open “Whazzat?” Atsuko slurred as she rejoined the realm of wakefulness.

 “We have arrived; your Uncle is in the vicinity. I do not wish to be seen, and I have more tasks to complete tonight. Here is where we part” Diana gently slid Atsuko to her feet, keeping hold until she was steady.

 “Thanks, Diana! Will I see you again? My family will be staying here all month.” Atsuko asked as she rubbed at her sleepy eyes. Diana made a noncommittal noise, she would not bind her fate to this human’s. She would probably leave this mountain and stay in the world of ayakashi and yokai, pouring over her dreams until the mountain was empty once more. Getting tied up in the affairs of humans always left a bad taste in her mouth. They were naught but dust in the wind, and interactions with them were best kept short.

 “Go. Your Uncle is waiting.” Diana pointed over to the beam of light that began to head in the other direction. She was caught off guard when Atsuko darted forward and kissed her cheek.

“Thanks once more, Diana! I’ll see you tomorrow!” With that Diana watched Atsuko run after her Uncle. Diana smiled as she heard Atsuko get scolded for wandering off. She would never admit to following them to the edge of the forest, warding off wayward yokai with her presence.

 “Akko...how interesting.” Diana supposed it couldn’t be helped. Diana looked towards the sky. It was gaining light. Reds and purples were mixing with the inky black. Her hunting time was gone, and the pathway back home would surely be closed. It would be more beneficial to rest until the next night. She would make her way back to the glen and the maple tree. It had seemed like a comfortable place to rest, after all.

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

 The sun gently shone down through the leaves of the maple, gently dappling Diana with its warm light. The wind gently played with her hair, and carried the sweet smell of the wildflowers. Birds sang their songs, greeting the sun. Diana sat under the tree, dozing but not quite asleep. In the day hours no human could see her, but it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. It would have been more worthwhile to have slept in the youkai world among the shadows, but she was curious. Akko had sparked something in her that she wanted to know more about. Diana would be content to watch from the shadows until her curiosity was fulfilled.

 The quiet snapping of undergrowth alerted Diana to another presence. She didn’t open her eyes, but cast out her senses. It wouldn’t do to get startled from a mere squirrel after all. As hidden as the youkai and ayakashi were, they still had their pride. Diana honed in on the presence she felt. Human, smelling of woodsmoke, soap, and ointment. They were young and female. Diana’s eyes quickly opened as she matched it up with the same presence from last night. It was Akko.

 She quietly watched as Akko bumbled her way through the clearing. Diana noticed that she had changed from her uniform to simple denim shorts and a red shirt. She watched as the brunette moved the brush and checked under stones as if she was looking for something. Diana continued her silent observation as Akko walked farther and farther into the glen. When Akko locked eyes with Diana, the youkai stiffened. Humans couldn’t see youkai during the day. The cover of the moon and shadows during the witching hours were the only time the two worlds met. Yet Akko’s eyes lit up as she bounded towards Diana. 

 “Diana!” Akko shouted as she tackled the poor yokai. Diana winced in response. How could Akko see her? During the day, no less? Humans these days were notoriously duller than their predecessors. They no longer noticed the ayakashi that roamed the earth, playing tricks and causing calamity. The fact that Akko could see her in broad daylight was disconcerting. Diana felt the back of her neck prickle in anxiety.

 “Atsuko,” Dinaa said with a slow nod, covering her anxiety. “I see you have returned.” Diana pried Akko off once more and ran a hand over her shirt to smooth the wrinkles. Akko smiled and gave a vigorous nod. Diana tried not to pinch the bridge of her nose. The oncoming headache she felt was surely caused by the human. She gave a small sigh and stood up. Diana offered her hand to Akko, and the brunette readily took it. With a small tug, Diana helped pull Akko up to her feet. 

 Diana released Akko’s hand and made a move to walk away, but Akko grabbed onto her sleeve. How a people could disregard manners without a care always surprised Diana. The sheer audacity of humanity was never ending. “Diana,” Akko said as she tugged Diana’s sleeve, pulling her out of her thoughts, “can you show me around the mountain?”

 Diana hummed in thought. On one hand, she’d be stuck playing guide to Akko. On the other, she could always attempt to ditch her. Diana frowned slightly at the thought. Akko getting lost again would be more of a hassle. Humans were fragile and the other Ayakashi were not as forgiving. Another search for Akko would lead to more humans crawling over the mountain. She would escort Akko, just so that Diana could enjoy peace. Diana had been planning to shadow the girl anyway. This was a minor deviation from the original plan.

 “I shall escort you, Atsuko, wherever you wish to go,” Diana said “as long as you give me payment.” Diana reached forward and picked up a lock of Akko’s hair. She felt her lips twist into a feral smile. She relished the power she felt coursing through her veins. It thrummed of a power old, of the forgotten days when youkai were feared and didn’t live in hiding from a world that had forgotten them. And yet, some part of her hated the way Akko’s eyes flashed with fear for a split second at her actions. The sharp tang of Akko’s fear that flooded her senses. Diana hated it. She pulled away quickly, turning away from those fearful eyes.

 “What would be the payment?” Diana heard Akko stutter. She heard the rustling of clothes. Akko must be shifting uncomfortably. Akko’s heartbeat thudded in Diana’s ears, hard and fast. Like prey. Diana closed her eyes and forced herself to block it out. She ate dreams, not flesh. She was not uncivilized. Only a fallen youkai consumed human flesh. She resided in light, not in the darkness of the fallen.

 Diana quickly spun on her heel to face Akko again. She held out her hands to the side, palms up. A gesture to help Akko feel at ease, ensure her that Diana meant no harm. “That, my dear Akko, would be a dream.”

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

 “I figured you weren’t human,” Diana heard Akko pant as she followed Diana up the steep rocky slope. “No normal person gets face tattoos like that.” 

 Diana chose not to comment, and instead grabbed Akko. Her facial stripes indicated that she was powerful. To call them ‘face tattoos’ were demeaning. She hoisted Akko effortlessly up the rocky slope, ignoring Akko’s squawks of indignation at suddenly being swung around. Akko was soft, Diana noticed as she set Akko down. She had to be careful. One wrong move and she could crush Akko. Diana loosened her grip slightly. She didn’t want to hurt her.

 “Look, Akko” Diana gestured to the horizon. The climb had been worth it. The foothills of the mountain rolled out before them. The tops of the trees were swaying slightly in the breeze; it looked like a distant green ocean sprawled before them. The setting sun’s light bathed the sky in a golden halo. It added an ethereal quality that made the view below seem like a painting. Diana looked over at Akko. The brunette had her mouth opened slightly and her eyes were filled with wonder. Diana felt a tug on her sleeve and smiled. She felt at peace. 

 “Diana,” Akko broke the silence between them “Why do you want my dreams?” Diana gave a small hum. She knew Akko had been curious this entire time. During the long climb, she had been fidgety and had constantly been looking over at Diana. As if Diana wouldn’t notice those glances. Akko had been quite obvious with them. Diana took a breath and thought over her answer.

 “Yokai and ayakashi from the moment of our birth never forget anything. We keep all our important memories. As such, no matter how much we sleep, we never dream.” Diana kept her eyes focused on the horizon. She could feel the pity in Akko’s gaze. She didn’t understand why. Dreams were inferior; an affliction to those who couldn’t remember. They teased others with memories that would never be recalled. Diana was free from such constraints, so why did she feel wronged when Akko looked at her. 

 “Is that why you want mine?” Akko’s voice was gentle. Diana felt a warm hand on hers. She continued to avoid Akko’s gaze, choosing to look at Akko’s hand instead. It was tanned, shades darker than her own skin. It also lacked the translucent quality of Diana’s. Akko was a being who belonged in this world, Diana wasn’t. It was reflected in how solid and warm Akko was, how real.

 “Somewhat. My clan lives off of dreams. It's our sustenance.” Diana moved her hand so that her fingers laced with Akko’s. The warmth was addicting. It was like she had a small fire cupped in her hands.

 “Are there more of you?” Akko sidled closer to Diana with this remark, resting her head on Diana’s shoulder. Diana stiffened, but she allowed it. Both of them looked out once more at the setting sun. Reds and indigoes streaked the horizon.

 “I am the last. We are an old and outdated race, much like other ayakashi.” Diana began to move her thumb across Akko’s hand, tracing gentle circles. She didn’t want to lose herself in the memories of old. Never forgetting was as much as a curse as a blessing.

 “I’m sorry.” Akko blurted out. Diana glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. The brunette looked near tears. Diana didn’t like it. Diana liked beautiful things, and Akko was most beautiful when she was smiling.

 “Whatever for? They were weak. It is the way of life. Ayakashi and Yokai live long, but not forever. We fade after a time.”

 “Hey Diana, do you only eat human dreams?”

 “No,” Diana paused and looked at the sunset. It had almost sunk under the horizon completely. “All life has dreams. Trees, butterflies, humans, all share the wonder of dreaming. Would you like to see one?” Diana could probably find a dream at this hour. She wanted Akko to experience other’s dreams. Life outside of humanity could be beautiful, if one had the chance to see it.

 ---------------------------

 Diana led Akko through the forest, quietly matching her pace with Akko’s. The last dregs of light were fading, and she wanted to make sure that Akko wouldn’t stumble and fall. Diana was eager to find a dream close to where Akko was lodging. It was best to avoid a repeat of the night before. Diana scanned the pathway as the two walked. Finally spotting the elusive golden mist, she paused. Akko stumbled into Diana’s back, jarred by the sudden stop.

 “Here.” Diana walked up towards a tree and gently placed a hand on the rough bark. It was old and twisted. Diana reached her hand towards Akko’s. The brunette clasped it, and Diana pulled her into an embrace. 

 “Be careful, and stay close to me.” Diana muttered into Akko’s ear as she began to activate the magic. Akko looked at her questioningly, but nodded. With that, Diana closed her eyes; and they both began to fall.

 Diana opened her eyes and surveyed the world around her. She was in the dream, and Akko was still in her arms. It looked like this was a peaceful dream, one of a calm day in the forest. Diana gently shook Akko to awareness. The brunette gave a small murmur and her eyes fluttered open. When she saw the scenery around her, Akko sat upright. Diana had to dodge before Akko’s forehead collided with hers. 

 “Is this the dream?” Akko said as she gazed around at the forest around her. Her eyes were full of wonder. What used to be an aged tree was now a younger sapling half its previous size. Sunlight dappled around them through the leaves, and a few yards away a doe and her fawn were grazing. Diana nodded and put a finger to her lips.

 “Though we are in a dream, creatures are aware of our presence. The deer will not linger if you continue to be excitable.” Diana said in a hushed whisper. Akko clapped a hand to her mouth and nodded vigorously. Together they watched the pair of deer quietly graze for a moment. Diana smiled at the peace she felt. Akko was nestled under her chin. The breeze was sweet and the sunlight gentle. Diana wouldn’t mind spending an eternity wrapped up in this dream.

 “It seems like a curse that you can’t experience this for yourself, Diana.” Akko whispered. Diana gave a startled blink. Akko’s sudden comment had pulled her from her sleepy reverie.

 “To you, it may seem awful, but for us it is merely the way of life. We never forget, so we cannot dream. However, I enjoy this experience, with you.” Diana avoided Akko’s eyes again as she spoke. It was somewhat embarrassing admitting that she did enjoy Akko’s presence. She wasn’t as much of a bother as Diana first assumed. She gave a startled cry as Akko twisted in her grip and threw her arms around Diana. “Diana, I’ll share my dreams with you!” Akko declared, her eyes lit with a fiery passion. “I want you to be happy!” Diana smiled at Akko’s antics. 

 “Very well, Akko. I look forward to the happiness you’ll bring.” Diana looked at Akko with gentle eyes. She didn’t want this moment to end. However, the crackling of undergrowth startled them both. Diana whipped around to see the deer had run off, thoroughly startled from Akko’s earlier declaration. Diana couldn’t hold it back anymore and began to laugh. She stood up and pulled Akko with her.

 “Akko, shall we give chase?” Diana said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and a smile on her lips. Akko just laughed and tugged Diana’s wrist, dragging Diana after the deer. Diana allowed Akko to tug her off her feet, stumbling after the brunette fully entranced. The undergrowth snapped under their feet as they gave gleeful chase.

 “You know Diana, you’ve been calling me Akko all day! And here I thought that you were stuck up!” Akko called over her shoulder. Diana just answered with a laugh. The brunette had brought light and warmth to her world of shadow. If the gods were real, Diana wanted to spend forever with Akko.

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

 Diana gently carried Akko back down the mountain. After the trip through the forest’s dream, Akko had fallen back asleep and Diana had opted to carry her once more. She ignored the golden aura around the brunette. Akko was too precious to be a mere food source. Diana wanted the memory of their fun to stay with Akko. She gently placed Akko on the ground; they were still in the tree line hidden from the view of the cabin.

 “Akko.” Diana softly called Akko’s name. The brunette rubbed the sleep from her eyes and propped herself up to look around. “I brought you home.”

 “Hey.” Akko said in a sleepy daze. She got up groggily and gave Diana a hug. “Can I see you again tomorrow?”

 “Of course.” Diana said as she brushed dirt from Akko’s shirt. “I will be waiting in the clearing.”

 “Did you take your payment?”

 Diana bit her lip. “Yes.” she lied smoothly. Akko nodded and began to tottle off to the house. 

 Diana made sure to watch until Akko had gotten inside safely. For a few more hours, she lingered. Listening to the song of the night, the whisper of the trees, and if she strained to hear it; Akko’s soft breaths. She wished that she could be there to guard Akko’s dreams. Instead, she contented herself with watching from afar. She stayed in the vicinity, devouring dreams from the nearby wildflowers. As she ate, she plucked a few and tucked them into her breast pocket. Akko would find them beautiful, and Diana wanted to share them.

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

 Every day that month, Diana would meet Akko at the glen. She’d tell Akko stories about other ayakashi and youkai. They’d hunt for wildflowers to press, and Akko would offer Diana shiny stones she’d find along the paths. Diana loved spending time with Akko; every day was a gift, with something new to appreciate. The way the cool mountain stream flowed over her feet, the smell of the flowers, the butterflies in the meadows, and the berries on the vine.

 Though Diana said she only ate dreams she had enjoyed sampling the human food Akko had brought. She had tempted Diana with wild berries and Japanese sweets, and Diana had learned she couldn’t say no to Akko’s face.  Diana’s favorite had been the Popsicle Akko had brought from the cabin’s freezer. The icy watermelon flavor had been sweet, yet not overbearing. The color also reminded her of Akko’s eyes. Yet another perk, not that she would admit it to the brunette. 

 All the while, Diana had a sense of foreboding. The summer couldn’t last forever, and Diana didn’t belong in this world. Akko was human, and she couldn’t join Diana in the realm of youkai. She’d either be eaten or pass away all too soon. Diana’s heart throbbed at the thought of Akko being ripped from her through death. Diana couldn’t bear the idea of watching Akko slowly age and wither. Yet there was no way to turn her into a youkai. 

 Besides, Diana was a being filled with power, and Akko was human. Over time, Diana’s aura would cause Akko to sicken and die. She had seen it happen before, with a nogitsune and her human lover. The gentle human had been crushed under the weight of being exposed to the dark kitsune's power after a year. If Diana was to preserve Akko, she would need to stay at a distance. Diana knew what needed to be done. The summer would end how it started, like a dream.

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

 The sun had once again begun to set; Akko had been laying in Diana’s lap playing with her hair. She had been trying to give Diana a small braid, but was failing miserably. Diana knew that Akko had picked up on her anxiety, and that she was hiding something.

 “Akko,” Diana tried to say without her voice cracking “I think you should take a nap.” Akko blinked at Diana and gave a smile. There was uncertainty in her eyes.

 “Okay!” Diana didn't look at Akko’s face as the brunette dropped the small braid she had been working on. Akko settled more comfortably into Diana’s lap. “Hey Diana,” Akko opened one eye and looked at her. “If I ever got the chance to be born again, I’d like to spend more time with you.”

 “I would like that very much too, Akko. So much.” Diana said softly, touching Akko’s face. She leaned over and kissed Akko’s forehead. Then, she cast a spell. 

 Akko had fallen asleep instantly. Diana wasn’t sure whether to be proud that her spell had worked, or distraught. All she had to do now, was wait. Wait for the moment when she would steal Akko’s dream, and memory, of herself. If they had to part, Diana didn’t want Akko to suffer. She was fairly certain that Akko knew what she had planned. The brunette had looked at her with such pity, much like on the second day they had met. Diana had felt it in her gaze, even if she didn't meet eyes with Akko. 

 When Diana saw the golden aura around Akko, she hesitated. Was this what was really best? Did Akko deserve this? Diana took a shaky breath. She was a heartless yokai. It didn’t matter what was best, or what Akko deserved. All that mattered was Diana’s will, and Diana’s will was to be forgotten. Akko deserved to find a normal human lover, and to live a normal life away from yokai and ayakashi. Away from the danger that Diana presented. Diana would fulfill the contract she had made with Akko at the beginning of summer. Steeling her resolve, Diana finally stole Akko’s dream.

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

 Akko walked along the road from school. Ever since the summer she had stayed at her Uncle’s cabin, she had felt empty. Like something was missing, but she didn’t know what. She wanted to chew at something with how frustrated she felt. She should have some gum in her pocket. Jamming her hand roughly into her pocket, Akko felt her hand brush against a wad of cloth. She pulled it out and looked at it. It was a handkerchief, embroidered with lavender. She didn’t know where it had come from, no one in her family used handkerchiefs. It felt so familiar though. 

 She stuffed the handkerchief back into her pocket and kept walking. As she walked, she tried to remember what she had done that summer. All she recalled was running through the mountains with someone. Who that someone was, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was someone from another family at a different campground. Lost in her thoughts, Akko accidentally bumped her shoulder into someone. 

 “I’m so sorry!” She blurted out frantically. The person she had bumped into looked to be someone her age. Blonde hair and a raggedy little braid. Clear blue eyes. A familiar white skirt. The gold pendant she wore made Akko’s heart twist. She looked painfully familiar, like someone from a painful memory she couldn’t recall. “Uh, do I know you?” The stranger smiled and shook her head. With a wave, she walked away. All Akko could do was watch, confused. Something urged her to chase after the stranger. Akko took a deep breath, and in a single moment, she made her choice.

[swaglexander-the-great]

If you feel like it : develop on your hatred of the new Beauty and the Beast movie? I've heard a lot of salt about the way the music score was handled 👀

O MAN DO NOT DO THIS

Every time I think about this film, rage fills me like a super saiyan powering up and i scream

How do i even start

i think i will do bullet points

these will not be in any coherent order, I take no criticisms on this or my extreme bias

also i have not watched this movie for like years so my rage may outweigh my accuracy BUT

The opening?? With Cate blanchett narrating?? Who do u think u are?? Lord of the Rings? Peter Jackson in an epic trilogy changing the world forever?? You’re Disney eating your own meal and shitting it out again don’t fucking even try it

They didn’t even change anything and the animated intro was much shorter and better

The enchantress enters like Malificent, acts like a trickster god japing bitches, but try to paint her as Good uwu Princess.

Gaston, roughly the size of an ox if the ox was a slightly buff man who would bounce off Terry Crew’s majestic chest like a ping pong ball

You don’t have to be a crusty cynical adult to narrow ur eyes at that twunk picking up a solid 170kg of two people and think CGI

Yes, a queer-coded snivelling sidekick who adores a horrible man is exactly the gay representation we all wanted may I lick ur boots Disney and also suck ur dick but only if we say no homo

Gaston’s sidekick (don’t ask me to spell french) bribing the bar people to like Gaston or something??? The whole point?? Is that Gaston DOES check off the list for Desirable Bachelor in those times!! Can hunt? Yes. Lorge? Yes. Well off? Yup! An asshole? Of course, but does that matter in these times? No! Your privilege is to wash his socks! But Belle is a Different and Special Girl who DOESN’T find Gaston attractive for all the things the village thots do! Gaston is the outer ‘perfection’ that society praises while he’s still a cunt, the Beast is seeing the goodness within no matter what society says! The whole movie is fucking inverted by that one goddamn scene!! I hate this film!!!

this also makes it fuckin weird that they then discriminate against Maurice and side with gaston in the end? The villagers just do whatever the fuck the writer wants them to do and in this it’s so painfully obvious, the CEO of disney may as well be standing there with flags directing their movements in the background, I hate this fucking film

Instead of making cool inventions belles dad just makes like, a weird dolls house if I remember correctly

THEY DUBBED THE WOLVES IWTH TIGER NOISES! W  H   Y

The Be My Guest was so lacklustre. It was like a clown singing kareoke in an empty warehouse while frisbees fly around. You wasted Ewan McGregor on this. Disney has no imagination anymore

To add to that, the ending ballroom scene dance thing?? Lacklustre. Disappoint. Bad dress.

The best character in this film is the horse, who not only remembers the impossible way to the Beast castle, but runs at max speed between the two locations (a half-day journey), regularly with ease, carries the Beast, who IS roughly the size of an ox, and fights off fucking wolves who also seem to totally ignore his presence

Disney robbed me of the one scene I did desperately want, which was Belle deadlifting the Beast on to the main character, the horse

THE PLAGUE

ok the fucking plague ok. You do not mess with the goddamn plague. And this wasn’t cowpox either, this was the full 1500’s shithole Paris Black Death burn-you-alive fucking PLAGUE. Belle’s mom had the Plague, and both her and her dad somehow did not contract this while living with her through her entire sickness, they go to a different town (ISOLATE U HEATHENS) and then?? The Beast and Belle GO BACK to a plague house and run their hands all over shit! Do you know how long the plague takes to die off?? Even TODAY when we dig up a plague pit, everyone has to get immunized, I know this from EXPERIENCE. Congratulations, you and the Beast either have plague or have introduced it to your lovely village. Do not fuck lightly with the plague.

The magic fucking teleportation book.

Why

what the shit

w

t

WHY

They use this shit to instantly Star Trek beam themselves into a plague house

I assume the Beast wasn’t using this to heist random women to see if they would fall in love with him because, like, why would you not do this when you can just politely return them with your stupid magical teleport book

People attack the castle? Use the magical teleport book dumbass

The Beast’s unnecessary, long, boring song from the top of some fucking tower, idk, I skipped it, I got bored

The Beast design. What’s the point if he doesn’t look like feral garbage please. Also his voice pissed me off but I can’t remember why

I dont like him even personality wise

give him to Guillemo del toro you cowards

This was set in Actual History for some fucking stupid reason, and for another unfathomable reason, it was set directly before the French Revolution, so I guess it’s not a happy ending at all. Who wants to be transformed into a guillotine ?

Why is it so fucking dark half the time

The teapot is creepy

Why in the shit did we get the Prince’s fuckin weird tragic backstory? We don’t care. Man get turned beast is what we come for. And why? Why do we need a tragic backstory to excuse his actions? Can he not just be an asshole? Rich, stupid asshole? Who then maybe has to learn a lesson? Instead of oh tortured soul rich boy is so misunderstood! No. Die.

Disney’s absolute desperate need to have characters be ONLY GOOD or BAD BAD makes me want to knee the face of the collective corporation so hard that they are sent into the Hell Dimension

Where did the hot priest at the start go? Why do I think of him sometimes

They want this to be painfully French, but somehow ends up and an even more agonizing blend between painfully British and ass-kissingly american.

Why does the castle just fall apart like that. What is holding it together? Spirit gum? Why? Stone that looks like it has been soldered together with a welding iron doesn’t just give out, or The Earth would have caved in millenia ago

Ian McKellan uses his Gandalf voice and in this film it’s honestly a crime and also jarring to hell

The prince is not hot at all

The stupid dubbed growl at the end which I try so hard to repress makes me want to throw myself into a swimming pool full of mace

The only 1 good thing about this film was the dude who got dressed up by the dresser and was so fucking happy about it.

People complain about the soundtrack, but I for one refused to listen to the songs that bored me within the first 20 seconds, and the ones I listened to were like average remakes of the OGs so that wasn’t really the worst sin

This film so visibly sucked its own dick that this is probably why it was banned in china

Thinking about this film makes me want to commit Violence so I think it’s about time I stopped

I will not be taking constructive criticism or counterpoints to anything about my thoughts on this ever.

Goodbye and thank you for your curiosity

[thebibliomancer]

Archaia’s Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal Age of Resistance #1

The Quest for the Dual Glaive Part 1 of 4

Archaia’s Jim Henson’s because I need to distinguish. Although I could have called the post The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance: The Quest for the Dual Glaive. Hindsight.

My half year pause in watching Age of Resistance means that nobody is really talking about it anymore right when I want to but that’s fine. That’s what being a Dark Crystal fan is like.

I’ll just read the comics.

And I did enjoy Archaia’s Jim Henson’s The Power of the Dark Crystal. And mostly enjoyed The Beneath the Dark Crystal. And with no season 2 announced, I crave content.

Before the Age of Resistance the Arathim attack Stone-in-the-Wood. Or a village of Stone-in-the-Wood? I’m not too sure how much ground the Stonewood cover.

The Arathim seem to wipe out the village so I hope it wasn’t the entire clan. And they’re led by a weird monstery thing with a lot of smiles.

When a survivor reports to Maudra Vala what happened, she identifies the weird monster as... The Ascendancy.

Maudra Vala: “The Ascendancy is not just another Arathim. It is a merging of many Arathim, a melding of minds to control and lead. When it rises, the horde follows...”

So a biiit different from the version in the show. Which is more of a hivemind type dealie. Where this is more of a rat king type dealie where a bunch of Arathim got fused together and become boss.

Or perhaps Maudra Vala is just working off bad intelligence since the Gelfling don’t really understand the Arathim until the Age of Resistance.

I personally prefer the hivemind where a bunch of them will come together to make a face because that’s just cool puppetry.

The Maudra’s advisor decides that the Only Thing that can defeat the Ascendancy is a super, special, legendary weapon.

And this isn’t called the Quest for the Master Sword so you can guess which.

“In time of need the seven came, lest Gelfling clans all end, a weapon made of life and death, the Dual Glaive to defend. From Thra we come, and all must go, whose soul by glaive was torn. Wielded in the face of war, then buried deep forever more.”

Now I have questions. If the Dual Glaive was legendary enough that it existed in song AND there was a big ol’ quest for it thirty trine before the show, why did Rian and co have to trek all the way through the desert to learn about it?

I know that they learned other stuff on the trip and met some delightful people but I just don’t know how I feel about how well the Dual Glaive was integrated into the plot.

Big part of that is how Rian’s dad was the previous wielder. That sets it a bit too recent. If it was set further in the past, it would work better.

Anyway, the Dual Glaive is rumored to be hidden in the Caves of Grot.

Ordon volunteers to be the one to go get it because he’s the best warrior in Stonewood.

Pre-Maudra Fara also volunteers. Just. Climbing out from under something to enter the plot. But she’s told she’s too young and her mother Maudra refuses to risk her life on a fetch quest.

Fara doesn’t take a no for an answer though and stows away in the saddle bags of the landstrider Ordon takes.

Pre-Maudra Fara and Ordon on a Gelfling road trip. I’m starting to feel that the natural state for Gelfling is to be in odd couple pairs on a road trip.

The collective noun for Gelfling is “buddy comedy.”

So Young Fara is very different from how she’ll grow up to be. Okay, maybe not so different. She’s still a bit impulsive even as an adult and leader of a clan.

'Should I attack the Skeksis now or wait for the Gelflings to unite? DAYLIGHTS BURNING LETS GOOOOO' is her.

Young Ordon is a different matter. I don’t remember him very well except Stern Dad Redeems Self because of the break I took. But its interesting to see him as a young.

He’s the Best Stonewood warrior. His leadership and prowess so renowned that SkekVar the General is actively trying to recruit him for the Palace Guard.

Which we know is where he’ll end up by the time of the show. Commanding it, in fact. But in this comic, he’s reluctant to take the job.

That’s not the only thing he’s reluctant about. He’s reluctant to consider any life for himself off the battlefield. Even feels he’s no fit for home life. Which causes a little friction with his wife Shoni.

Still, they’re cute together.

But its an odd trait for a Stonewood whose ethos is to melt their weapons in the Crucible and discard aggression after battle. Something Ordon repeats to a Gelfling he’s training. So its interesting that he struggles with it.

[marvel--queen]

Hear the Music || Armitage Hux || Part One

Fandom: Star Wars

Word Count: 1,441

Warnings: few swear words, thats like it i think?

Description: (Y/N) is a grey jedi who used to train under Luke Skywalker with Ben. After surviving Ben’s attack on the temple, they lived life successfully on the run from Kylo and the First Order, until Kylo finally found them and offered them a proposition. 

Masterlist

Hear the Music Masterlist

A/N: ahhhh im alive!! happy star wars day! i love this funky man named domhnall gleeson. this has been in my notes forever and i finally got the motivation to finish it. hoping to turn this into a series but we know how well i am at finishing things(hint: not well at all) please enjoy. more interaction with hux to come next part. also i’m trying to keep it as gender neutral as i can so everyone can enjoy it :) also any feedback y'all can give would be great, what did you like about it, what can i do different, what do you think will happen? i'm a sucker for attention

THIS IS NOT MY GIF. GIF CREDITS GOES TO THE OWNER(I tried searching for whoever made this gif but I couldn’t find it! If anyone knows please let me know so I can properly give credit)

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You loved how free your life was. Sure sneaking past the First Order checkpoints aren’t ideal to freedom but the exhilaration of almost getting caught fuels you on. It reminds you of the time you and Ben would sneak out of your huts at night to have fun and be teenagers. Many nights spent by the flowing river as you used the force to chuck a multitude of stones at Ben or after you both crafted your own lightsabers, choreographing your own fight scenes, dancing around each other's glowing blades. But those moments were short-lived.

You wish you could say you were surprised when Ben snapped but that boy had so much pent up anger, it was bound to explode one way or another. You were lucky enough to escape with a few burns and a broken arm. Unfortunately, the majority of your peers weren’t as lucky. You had limped away from the scene, clutching your arm with tears burning in your eyes as you followed Ben with only anger set on your mind. Before you could get very far, Master Skywalker stopped you. And that was when you parted from the damaged temple. 

Traveling on your own was an adjustment. Fighting for your life just to live another day, it only furthered your ideal as a Grey Jedi. Even as a kid, you had issues seeing only a good side and a bad side and to this day, you refuse to believe there is only good or only bad. But now you’re free, free from the constant preaching of goodness and the blindness of the evil. You were finally at peace. 

But peace can only last so long. You should’ve known when you felt the shift in the force, that it was time to pack up and trek on, but you were stubborn. Which made your current position much more irritating. They came into your home at night, you fought the best you could with sleep clouding your mind but there were too many of them and you were just too tired. After years of successfully avoiding the First Order and Kylo Ren, your past caught up to you and it was time to hear the music. 

So there you laid, strapped to a First Order interrogation bed. You thought you’d be angrier when the time came but you just laid there, eyes closed, calm, waiting for the little shit to arrive so you could spit in his face. You could feel him in the area, following his footsteps in your mind until it stopped, in front of your door. 

You called out to him, with your mind, smirking, “How does it feel to finally successfully kill a master, Ben?”

The door whooshed open to show the angry face of your old friend. “Get out of my mind,” He childishly yelled, pointing a threatening finger at you.

“You’d think after so many years, you would finally grow up,” You challenged him with a raised eyebrow.

“Shut up!” He glared, “When were you this,” He struggled to find his words. “Infuriating?” You picked the word from his mind and he tried to push you out, to which you only laughed. “I was always stronger in the force than you, Ben.” “It’s Kylo,” Kylo narrowed his eyes at you angrily. “And yet here I am more powerful than you could ever be.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not calling you that childish name.”

“Then Supreme Leader,” He crossed his arms, “Which is why I searched for you. Join me.”

You choked on air and threw your head back laughing hysterically. This only enraged him even more, “Why are you laughing?! Join me, be my enforcer, my right hand. We can rule this galaxy together.”

“I-I’m sorry,” You laughed, raising your hand to your chest to control your breathing. You had released yourself from the restraints not too long ago. “But you want me to join you on the ‘Dark Side’” You made air quotes as you said “Dark Side” sarcastically. “This is priceless, but the answer is no.” You crossed your arms.

“Then you best get comfortable,” Kylo turned to leave but you weren’t content with his last word. 

You raised your arm and yank it to the side, slamming Kylo’s body against the walls and pinned him there. “You may have more power, but I’m still stronger, Ben.” You spat out as Kylo struggled against your force. “I was living a peaceful, free life and you, yet again, ruined it”

The door to the right of you swiftly opened and you reached out your right hand, ready to attack whoever entered. A pale man entered, head down looking at the datapad resting on his arm. 

“I don’t understan- oh?“ He started speaking before looking up, surprised but also smug to see Ren’s position. “As delighted I am to see someone best him, could you please release the Supreme Leader.”

You smiled at the General, taking note of his uniform, before turning to Kylo, “Ooh, I like this one,” You nodded your head to the man, before forcing Kylo to the ground and releasing him. You turned back to the General with a flirty smile, “Got a name, General?”

“Hux,” The man, you now know as General Hux, responded, amused with the interaction he’s witnessing. Behind you, Kylo stood up and brushed the dust off of his clothes, before charging to subdue you.

“General Hux,” You tested the name, tapping your chin, “Don’t tell me your first name is General.” You casually sent Kylo flying away from you as you teased the General. 

“Armitage,” He sent a fleeting look to Kylo as he flew and slumped on the floor, groaning. 

Your smile widened, “Nice to meet you, General Armitage Hux.” You lent your hand out for a handshake, which Hux accepted, eyes locked together. To the side of you both, Kylo braced himself against the wall before readying himself for another go at you. You rolled your eyes, excused yourself, and turned to Kylo with a glare, “Will you behave?! I’m trying to have a pleasant conversation with General Hux.” You turned back to Hux with a mysterious glint in your eyes, “You’d think he’d give up after so many failures, I’m sorry you had to deal with him for so long.”

Kylo’s face flushed red from anger at your jab. “General, you’re dismissed,” He sent a glare to you, "I’ll deal with the prisoner.”

Hux sent Kylo a side look before nodding, turning to leave. 

“Don’t be a stranger, General,” You tell him, shamelessly admiring his back profile, “I got a feeling I’ll be here for a while.” Hux turned briefly, catching you checking him out, only for you to send him a wink and Kylo to glare at the man to leave immediately. You watched him leave until the door closed. “Nice man,” You turn to Kylo with a grin. 

“Are you done?” Kylo deadpanned, unamused with your behavior. 

“Never,” You teased, pinching his cheek. He retaliated by smacking your hand and gripping your wrist hard. 

“This isn’t a fucking game,” He sneered through gritted teeth as he roughly released your wrist, to which you rubbed gingerly and glared at him. 

“Relax, Ben. If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done more than just toss you around the room. You’re too serious.” You hopped back onto the bed and looked at your old best friend, waiting for his next move.

After a beat of nothing, you rolled your eyes, leaning back onto your hands you placed behind you. “Honestly, now I see your appeal to the ‘Dark Side’” You shifted your weight to one hand to air quote “Dark Side”. “If all the men looked like that,” You whistled, eyes focused on the door the General left through. “Too bad, I don’t believe in the Dark Side. Doesn’t mean I can’t admire,” You smirked looking at Kylo as you swung your legs.

Kylo grimaced at your comments, “Do you ever shut up?” You smirked and opened your mouth to respond but he cut you off by raising his hand, “Never mind, don’t answer that.” He moved towards the door, opening it and looking at you, “Maybe some quiet will do you some good. Think about my offer.” 

He steps out of the room and before the door closes, you shout after him, “Please tell the General, he’s free to visit anytime!” 

Kylo flipped you off as he stormed down the hall. You giggle to yourself, pleased with everything that unfolded. Maybe your break at peace wouldn’t be so bad, especially after meeting that red-headed General you’re already fond of.