#and then quietly being like 'it might happen again...' because they're terrified of dying. again.

[maxdurden]

"remember when we died??" gorgug thistlespring you will always be famous to me

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

Is it just me who's seriously worried about the fact that they're not even imprisoning the migrants in a secure, safe, on-land building, but on a boat? I have a horrible feeling about where this is going. They're literally imprisoning people who just wanted to be safe and live better lives, and on a boat, no less, which feels at best like a cruel joke ("they come over here in boats" rhetoric) and at worst feels like a setup for a horrific "tragedy"... I genuinely wouldn't put it past the Tories at this point to do something like that, and the scry thing is how many people would be unbothered. One of my mum's friends, who has always been generally left-wing, the other week said something about immigrants being WORSE than ACTUAL CONVICTED CRIMINALS. It's scary how easily people are falling into this trap, I've said it once and I'll say it again; it's terrifying how many parallels there are between modern Britain and Nazi Germany. THIS IS FASCISM. First prosecution, stripping them if their human rights, then "rounding them up" and putting them in camps. We know where this goes. We know what comes next. WE CANNOT LET THIS HAPPEN.

It frustrates me how powerless I am - I can't even vote yet, so here I am desperately shouting into the void on Tumblr, hoping that someone with some semblance of power and influence will read this. Even without the "migrant issues", this country is falling to fascism - I've just started questioning my gender and I'm terrified by the new laws being put in place. Up and down the county, more and more people are in danger, are vulnerable, homeless, struggling, in poverty, in the town I live in - a very white, very middle-class town, so you can imagine what it's usually like (there's like four churches too, whatever you're picturing as the average citizen before the cost of living crisis is probably accurate) - people are having to shut off rooms in their houses and sleep in their living rooms because there's mould or damp or other things that are making their children ill. This country is in chaos, people are dying, there are fucking fascists in government and yet STILL PEOPLE INSIST THAT THERE'S NO POINT VOTING ANYONE ELSE IN. Let me tell you now - Starmer might not be great, but at least he's not a fascist - and his party are a thousand times better than the Tories. This country is falling apart.

If you live outside the UK, you might or might not know all of this. It's awful. It's chaos here, there's basically Nazi's in government and no one gives a shit. There are a few people who quietly talk about where this is heading, how we've seen this before in every genocide in history, but nobody else seems to care. We have a whole generation of people starving, unable to afford to live, and no one cares. Innocent people looking for a safe place to live are being forcibly imprisoned - their children are being stripped of any sort of comfort DELIBERATELY - for the crime of fleeing danger.

I don't know. I really don't know. I've forgotten what my point was. I hate this country. I hate these fuckweeds in government who think they can do what the fuck they like. I hate it I hate it I hate it. And I hate that there's nothing I can do.

[whumpwillow]

Thrown out like a trash.

After weeks or months of torture, Supervillain was thrown out like a trash, because his torturers just got bored with beating and whipping this strange, quiet man. Wounded, exhausted and with hands cuffed behind him, he was totally helpless, dying slowly in the freezing cold, without any hope, being reconciled with death. A civilian, who found him, was terrified of having the worst villain at home, but he felt pity, despite this man's constant defiance, looking at tears that tun down his bruised cheeks at night. He is too proud to ask for help or mercy, but when the villain unwoluntary nozzled in the civilian's arm, drinking water like a thirsty animal, his new caretaker's heart was breaking. "Why?" he asked quietly "Why any hero could do you it?" The exhausted man glared at him "Are you a kid? This is just politics. Their party must win an elections. Last year..." The civilian interrupted him. "So you are not a serial killer and a terrorist?" he asked in disbelief, but he had known the answer well yet. 

response under the cut!

"this strange, quiet man." 😭😭😭 big sad

the whumpee is thrown out like a trash and left to die, squirming pathetically on the ground because he can barely move and the pain of his torture is eating him alive

he sobs without a care for his dignity because he's completely alone and broken beyond repair

his back is in tatters, red rivulets of blood streaming down his skin to collect in a puddle beneath him

when the civilian finds him, they think the whumpee is a dead body, but when they reach out to touch him and check his pulse, villain flinches and civilian jumps back, shocked that the person is alive even with all their injuries

villain shifts and looks over their shoulder at civilian, who recognizes their face from the news and wanted posters all over the city and gasps, seeing someone so dangerous right in front of them

they wonder what they're going to do about the villain and mention something about contacting the heroes, until they see villain flinch again and say that the heroes "threw them out" because they got bored of them

and civilian asks villain if it was the heroes that did this, and how could this happen, and is stunned at the numb way villain responds, saying that this is just business, as if this was to be expected

civilian now reasons that the heroes can't know about this and that civilian can't pass villain off to anybody else because they don't know who might hurt them even worse, so they take villain back to their place despite their better judgement

civilian is terrified having villain in their home, but they treat villain's wounds, cleaning, stitching, and bandaging them up

civilian is surprised to find this normally defiant and prideful villain nuzzling against them for comfort

[reanimationstation]

Weekly whats goin on in the dnd campaign update ask!! :D

WELL. we havent actually played this week due to being busy with life and stuff BUT last session was still absolutely BATSHIT

SOOO. SAMMY FINALLY GOT MERGED WITH PROPHET. he is so much weirder (affectionate) but honestly i dont think everyone has noticed. he keeps on rolling really high on "keeping it together" when he is quietly trying to cope with double the traumatic memories he's used to. also hes a golden ink monster (which ive drawn a lot of). oops. once he rolls low more prophety traits will surface and then it'll be obvious that this is no longer the reflection of the past sam that everyone got used to

but in more WORLD SHATTERING news, the ink machine. it uhm. well for some backstory, sammy pretty regularly gets forced to make deals with it, be it to revive someone or to get someones soul from the machine. and the ink machine tends to use very vague wording. so in exchange for three people from the studio, it offered to unlock the exit door forever.

sammy took that deal.

and when he opened the door, everything was in the same style as the studio. uh. crap.

turns out during one of sammys very first few deals, his wording gave the ink machine power to access the outside world and tURN IT INTO AN EXTENSION OF ITSELF. THE OCEAN IS GOLDEN INK. GOLDEN INK IS FLAMMABLE.

so sammy now has to break that news to the found ones in the harbor :/ yikes. but hes planning on staying in the studio until things are sorted out and the world isnt in chaos because he doesnt really want to deal with the implications of a flammable ocean and literally everything else being studio-ified. things are going great

but ALSO since henry and linda are currently stuck in the ink machine their two kids have kinda been being watched by relatives for about a month (its been like 5 months in studio because of how time moves faster inside it). so sammy is planning on going to get them and bring them in the studio to watch them himself because he thinks that being inside the studio is safer than being outside while the world panics. he also needs to get one of the people he kidnapped's son since yk he has morals. (when sammy died the deal he made to get put back in his body was that he couldnt refuse any of the ink machine's orders SO its having him do a lot of bad stuff and he cant refuse otherwise people he's keeping alive with deals might die again :[ he's terrified of the ink machine rip)

back to the found ones harbor, hes organized a meeting to make a list of what people want from the outside world before they hunker down for a more permanent living situation. they're pretty self sustainable rn but people dont have phones and stuff so getting that would boost morale. he, bendy, norman, shawn, lacie, and maybe tom, are all gonna go out and get the stuff before the outside people start raiding walmarts and stuff out of panic. they r also gonna get an animal shelter's worth of pets to bring to the studio and keep them safe. maybe even a petco. also a lot of fish. we have canonized that norman really likes fish. its very cute. OH ALSO ALLISON IS PREGNANT SO THEY ARE GETTING BABY SUPPLIES

BUT YEAH A LOT HAS HAPPENED. im skipping a LOT of stuff that has happened since the last update and now (traveling through universes uncontrollably, dying a few more times, a terrible and evil forest full of nightmares, a handful of deals, gabriel dying and being brought back, etc) but thats the gist of it :]

[secret-engima]

rereading the whole Nox verse tag, just got to N!Axis meeting the canon Glaives a year pre-Movie. and i had the thought of post-marriage, post-kids Nox (and his Axis, who very much remembers that dimensional trip when they were younger, /Nox/) /also/ meeting - maybe different, maybe /not/ and ooo imagine /that/ - canon Glaives pre-Movie. possibly in the field, but just imagine it in the /Citadel/. if they saw these two bf, they were teenagers, now less than a yr later they're grown and /scarier/

Anonymous said: something i wanted to add to that ask about Nox and Axis visitng the same canon verse they did as teengers, but couldn't because of the damned character limit. At some point during the whole thing, the would-be traitor Glaives see/hear/are told something that makes them actually, really /realize/ why the Lucis Caelums are called Martyr Kings. also Nox casually spills the beans on his traveling to many, many other worlds/dimensions, mentioning the Fall of Insomnia, betrayal, and directly to Nyx,-

Anonymous said: - that in every future he's ever been to and seen, he's not been a traitor in one of them, and generally, he was a little /too/ Heroic in most of them. the way Nox says it leaves not doubt about what he means by that. no one familiar with Nyx is remotely surprised, but even after Nox and Axis leave, they're a bit more conscious of Nyx's recklessness and heroic tendencies. also: "Calm down, Axis, maybe I died when I was a kid here, yeah, but Uncle might not even have a sister, here. Leave it be.”

Me: ohhhhh interesting thought! I like it in the Citadel, maybe a few months after their first appearance (not a full year tho otherwise Game Events would be happening) and some of the glaives are on Citadel Duty (aka Titus’s ultimate punishment via the most boring job in existence) when there’s this- glitch in the world and then the Crownsguard are YELLING because apparently the Crystal chamber just did something weird. All hands are on deck and the glaives are called in with the Guard to watch the sealed off will-not-open-from-the-outside Crystal Chamber doors and the KING is there with his Shield and the Marshal and Captain and then-.

The door swings open from the inside and the argument can be heard as two figures emerge from the room, one growling at the other in a voice that sounds ... eerily familiar to Nyx and the Glaives.

“-to the Matrons for an exorcism so help me.”

“Hey, I’m not possessed OR cursed, blame the Crystal. It likes to mess with me.”

“It’s a non-sentient hunk of rock and magic, it can’t ‘mess with you’.”

“Wanna ...” the two figures stop and study the bristling mass of Guards, Glaives, Royal Retinue, and King, “bet?” the shorter one sighs and Nyx is having a few flashbacks already to That Time because that is DEFINITELY an older, crabbier Axis Arra and the man next to him looks freakishly like a long-haired Prince Noctis.

Who has a marriage braid and an ULRIC BRAID in his hair.

What the Six.

The Definitely a Lucis Caelum raises his hand, small sparks of flow dancing off it in some weird kind of royal greeting, “Hi dad.” he says with a lazy smile that almost hides the tension in his shoulders and the way his free hand is loose and curled around an imaginary hilt of a blade, like he’s about to whip something out of armiger.

The King gapes for a solid ten seconds before breathing, “Noctis?”

There’s a slight twitch, a flinch from the look-a-like and a low growl from the Arra before the Lucis Caelum (and Nyx knows who this kid is, he REMEMBERS that morning, that scrawny boy, and he knows the other glaives do too) smiles sheepishly, “Not quite. I’m Nox. His older brother actually. Though I’m going to guess Noctis is an only child in this dimension.”

So yeah dimensional shenanigans and Prince Nox being infuriately blasé about the entire thing and hanging out with the very befuddled glaives (Nox stares at Nyx for a c!solid thirty seconds while he stares right back until Nyx asks HOW Nox is an Ulric and Nox cheerfully goes “I married you, how else? We have four kids.” And Nyx spends like- the next three days in a perpetual Blue Screen until Axis takes pity on his Internal Scream by explaining that Nyx is a fem in their world. No. No there was no magic involved in the creation of the kiddos where is your mind even GOING Ulric (Nyx: I don’t know! Magic is weird! And alternate dimensions are a thing how was I supposed to know what other fanfic tropes AREN’T anymore?!?!). Nox quietly dies of laughter in there corner.

They keep a wary eye on the C!Arra-Furia-Lazarus trio in case of trouble because it’s been years for N!Axis but only months for them and it’s like- during one of those wary but cordial hangouts that Nox makes his Comment about Lucis Caelums after a long bout of brooding out the window.

“Dad’s dying a lot faster in this universe.”

All the glaives freeze. Even Captain Drautos lowers the report he was reading and pokes his head out of his office to stare.

“What?” Someone in the glaives says.

Nox doesn’t look at them, he’s glaring out the window and with a jolt they realize he’s glaring at the Wall, “Dad. The King. The Wall is killing him faster here. It was killing him in my world too but ... Uncle and I took care of it. I guess ... it’s different here.”

There’s a long pause before Luche’s brain finishes its dial up noises and he scoffs, “The Wall can’t kill the king. It’s his magic.”

“It’s Bahamut’s magic,” Nox corrects coldly without looking at them, “Magic he forced into human skin and veins that isn’t meant to keep it.” As if he can sense their continued disbelief he drawls, “How long can you hold a Shield spell before you get sick? Before you’re exhausted because the magic has gone past your reserves and started taking you as fuel? The Wall is just a giant, city-sized shield.” Tredd makes a noise that might be question or might be a strangled scoff and Nox finally turns to look at them.

There is something utterly inhuman in his gaze. His eyes are still blue, his face is still human, but there’s something in his eyes that speaks to their primal instincts and tells them to run, to hide.

To dread.

“Go to your local library sometime and look up the births and deaths of Kings of Lucis,” he orders in a deceptively light tone that almost makes it seem like a suggestion instead, “compare the lifespans of rulers from before the Wall was raised and after. Then compare the average lifespan of a healthy Lucian citizen at the time of that ruler’s reign.” There’s a beat of silence, terrible and weighty, then Nox’s lips curl into a tiny smile.

It’s a terrifying thing.

“The Kings of Lucis never die of old age. Sometimes it’s sickness, sometimes it’s war. Sometimes it’s assassination. Sometimes they just- die. For no reason science can explain because scientists never take magic into account. Sometimes,” the smile gets colder, the eyes older, “it’s betrayal. Those who are trusted when they shouldn’t, those who should stand loyal when they are not.”

He looks over them all and every one of them feels a chill up their spine. N!Axis leans closer to Nox as if in an attempt to comfort, to snap him out of this eerie mood, but it doesn’t work. “This has happened to me before you know. Going to parallel times. Do you know how my father dies the most often?”

There’s a breath, and when Nox speaks, there’s a hint of other voices beneath his, an echo of times past and souls lost and endless, ageless rage, “By the hands of the glaives he blessed.”

And none of the Galahdians dare to breathe. Those who have been listening to Captain Drautos’s subtle poison more and more these past few months, whose loyalty is not as solid as they pretend and to whom Niflheim’s lies are starting to sound sweet feel stricken, terrified. Like there’s a shadow of a blade at their necks even though there is nothing.

Nox inhales and when he exhales his breath is like frost. The room feels very, very cold, “They sell themselves to the enemy, they wait until his back is turned, and then they kill him. And when those glaives who are still loyal,” here his red-tinged eyes fall on Nyx and there is weight to the gaze, calm promise that of all in the room, Nyx has never been among those Nox has seen become betrayers, “resist and refuse to join in. The traitors slaughter them too. No regard for Clan ties, no regard for oaths or loyalty or any Color beyond Pink and Red and NIflheim’s White.”

Blue eyes are fully red now as he hisses, “And I hate it. I hate that I remember it, I hate that no one ever understands that magic has a cost. That they can study and feel magic strain over and over again for years and yet somehow they never believe that their king is just as human. That it hurts us just as much. Because Lucis Caelums are ‘blessed’,” Nox laughs and the sound is eerie, dripping in memories of things no one living is supposed to see, “as if an Astral’s Blessing is something to be coveted. As if being born with burning, inhuman magic, like a constant spell of fire in your veins and just beneath your skin that never turns off day or night, makes it easier.” Nox laughs again, something dangerous and sharp in the sound-.

N!Axis fearlessly lays a hand on the back of his prince’s neck, “That’s enough, Nox,” Axis murmurs, “come back now.” And Nox blinks, once, twice, thrice.

And suddenly he is normal. The room is normal, the creeping impression of death and old fury is gone, leaving the glaives breathless from relief. Nox rubs his face with a hand and murmurs an exhausted sounding apology, excuses himself for the day to go lie down in the guest suite Regis gave him.

Nyx watches the prince and his Arra walk away and notices that Nox’s hands are shaking, that his steps are not as sure as they were just this morning.

He thinks of too old words and too ancient eyes, of the knowing bitterness when Nox spoke of magic burning just under the skin with no relief and thinks very suddenly that he is glad he is just an Ulric. Just a Kingsglaive. A glance at Luche, Tredd, and C!Axis reveal them to be just as pale, if not more so than the others.

That night, those glaives who had been listening to their Captain’s less loyal talk had a lot of research to do.

And a lot of silence to ponder in horror as they find that every word Nox said about the old rulers was true.

[shall-we-imagine]

Scaredy Cat. (Badboy!SigurdxReader)

Bet you weren't expecting this, huh.

Requested: 26. "All due respect, but that's a bunch of crap." From the prompt list.

A/N: Badboy!Klaus was quite popular so why not try this? 🤷‍♀️idk how to write proper bad boys so spare me I'm trying 😂 this is also a bit of an idol AU? 😂 you can call me artist; you can call me idol sorry I'm actually loving the BTS comeback even though a lot of people don't...aannd that's not the right place to discuss this I'll shut up. Moving on.

Genre: Fluff.

(Second Person Point of View)

Being friends with an idol had its pros and cons. On one hand, it led to you being friends with all his group mates, and it also scored you dates with other idols. On the other hand, you barely get to even see your friend; it's always video calls, and even those aren't as often as you'd like. But what can you do? As long as he's following his dream, you're happy for him.

Sometimes, however, you wish you could just have him around whenever you need him. He's always very caring towards you, but he can't help it that he's busy. So, sometimes you just have to suck it up and deal with your own problems yourself. Or do you?

Pacing around the living room, you contemplate calling Serge. If he was sleeping, you really didn't wanna disturb the tiny bit of sleep he gets. What if he was busy doing something else? He usually calls when he's free anyway..

"It's okay; I'll be fine." You whisper to yourself reassuringly, even though your voice came out filled with uncertainty. As you approach the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, you flick on as much light switches as possible. There ain't no demon attacking you tonight, nope.

You down the refreshing glass of water. "There. That's not so bad. I can do thi-" your sentence was cut off by your own squeal. What was that noise?

You hesitantly inch closer to your open kitchen window. As you were scolding yourself for leaving that window open, you peek into the back yard of your house. There it was. The source of the noise.

You could see the bushes shaking violently, indicating something or someone was in there. Trembling hands reach to quietly shut the window and blinds, as you tip toe away from the window. Maybe it was the fact that you were home alone getting the best of you, but you were terrified to the core. Someone might be lurking around in your backyard, and that would explain the odd noises you'd been hearing for the past hour or so.

You rush back into the living room. What in the world were you supposed to do?

Call your parents? They're thousands of miles away; they can't particularly help.

Call the police? Okay, you're not actually sure someone is out there, and you don't wanna just call for nothing..

The only person left to call was Serge..

You promised yourself that you'd call one time; if he doesn't pick up, you have to try to ignore the noises.

Please, for the love of everything good, pick u-

"Hello?" A voice deeper and more calm than Serge's booms through the phone.

You frown. "Um, isn't that Serge's phone?"

"Yes, darling, but Serge is shooting for his up coming drama right now, so he can't respond to the phone he forgot at the dorms." Darling? Oh, it's him. "Figured you might need some company, though, so I replied." You could almost see him smirk.

Now, when you say you're friends with the group Serge belongs to, well, there's an exception, and that's the one and only Sigurd Curtis. Fans love him for his 'mysterious charms', but all you could see is an irritating jerk. And now was really not the time for him.

"So? What did you call for?" His question reminds you that you hadn't replied to him earlier.

You sigh. "I called for Serge, but he's not here, so I'm hanging up."

"Oh, come on, am I not good enou-" you hang up before hearing the rest of his teasing and whining.

You couldn't really understand him much. He was generally quiet, but somehow, when it comes to you, he becomes the most talkative person on the planet. Which would've been fine if he didn't use all his power to tease you and flirt with you for no reason.

Well, there's no other choice but to deal with the unreasonable fear yourself.

#####

"This is not working." You huff, unable to stop thinking someone might break in. Your house didn't have a single light bulb turned off, which was probably going to be a pain when your parents receive the electricity bill, but you didn't have any plans of turning any of them off for now.

You stare at your phone, as if silently willing it to start ringing and showing Serge's picture. Of course, that didn't happen even after you stared for a full minute.

"Should I try calling again?" You sigh.

You took your heart thumping in fear as a yes. You prayed with all your power the idiot would respond, but once again, you were greeted with the flirtatious tone you feared hearing.

"Missed me already?"

A loud groan sounds across the empty room. "When is Serge coming back?"

"I don't know, cupcake." Knowing he specifically uses this to make you uncomfortable, you try your best not to cringe. "I've just been informed you're home alone. Is that why you want Serge? You're scared?"

Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Usually..when my parents go on trips for work, Serge spends his time talking to me to get my mind off of the fact that I'm home alone." You admit sheepishly. "Sometimes he even sings me to sleep." You add in a quieter voice, part of you hoping he didn't hear it. You didn't even know why you were telling him this; maybe sleep-deprived you was extra friendly and liked over sharing.

"Oh." A pause was followed by a confident statement, "I could do that!"

"W-what?" However, there was no response. "He hung up? What in the world is wrong with that guy?!"

No longer than 2 minutes later, you were jumpscared by the doorbell. You silently approach the door, unsure who would be at the door. Of course, there was a face that popped into your head, but you somehow still couldn't be sure if it was really him.

"Sigurd?" You eye the taller male. His hair was freshly dyed black; he was even given an undercut while the hair on the top of his head was styled in a messy quiff. His attire was black as usual. Of course, as an idol, he had to switch colours, but when he got to wear what he wants, he'd almost always dress in black, to add to his 'mysterious' aura- you assume. He wore a black tank top with random scribbles on the front, matched with black skinny jeans that had some chains hanging from them; you never really understood that odd choice of clothing, but you didn't question it. What you did question, however, was the choker he wore.

"Sharing closets with your dog or something?" You point at the strange accessory. It was adorned with spikes and a few silver chains intertwining with each other; the best way to describe it was that it looked like a dog's collar.

"Ha ha very funny. It's called fashion, pancake, you wouldn't understand." Wearing a sympathetic smile, he pats your shoulder, allowing himself inside.

"Are you hungry or something? Wasn't it cupcake at first? Now it's pancake? What's with that?" You roll your eyes. Nice sleep-deprived you was nowhere to be seen, apparently.

He glances at your chest before looking back into your eyes and giving an innocent smile. "Nothing." He walks further into the house, not waiting for a reaction from you.

"You little-" you bite back an insult, knowing he just enjoys pushing your buttons. You had to stay calm. "Why are you here? I didn't even invite you. Plus don't you have work or something?!"

"You implicitly invited me." He points out, "And, no, we're on a break, remember?"

A sudden knocking noise makes you jump before you could even respond to the dork that made himself comfortable on your couch.

He stares at you with a raised eyebrow, "that was a branch hitting the window.."

"I knew that." His intense stare doesn't waver. "Okay, fine. It scared me..a little! I'm scared of being home alone, and there's a person lurking outside the house and-"

"There's a person lurking outside the house?!" He hops off the couch, his expression -for once- not smug or playful but concerned. It somehow made your heart skip a few beats. Surely, you were overreacting, though; there's no way he just looked attractive because he seemed concerned. There's no way you suddenly noticed how well black contrasts his skin tone, making it suit him beautifully. Nope.

"Well, I'm not very sure it's a person.." you explain shyly, "I just heard some noises and saw the bushes moving.."

"Man, you freaked me out for nothing." He runs a hand through his visibly soft hair. "Where was it you saw the bushes move?"

"Okay, stay here and keep the door locked; I'll take a look outside to ensure nobody's out there." He instructs, after you show him to the back door.

"Sigurd, you don't need to do this. What if someone dangerous was out there?" You attempt to reason with him.

He chuckles, "you worried about me, cupcake?"

You pretend to gag. "You might as well find yourself a ride home cuz I'm not gonna be opening that door again."

After a few moments, you hear Sigurd call out for you, claiming you should come out. He has teamed up with the serial killer outside and plans to trick you into getting murdered?

"Oh my god stop panicking; just come out! It's a puppy for God's sake!" He shouts, even though he really couldn't see you or your desire to ignore his request to leave the safety of your house.

"Fine!" You shout back, as you reluctantly pull open the door. The view beyond the door certainly made you glad you complied with his request, though.

Sigurd was crouching on the grass rubbing a small Pit bull's belly. It wiggled its tail happily, as he continued to shower it with affection. You almost let out a small awwhh. You almost forgot that this was the same guy you threatened to not let back into your house.

"I think that's my neighbour's puppy." You muse, as you approach Sigurd and the pit bull. You check the red, spike-filled collar. "Look. It's matching with you." You tease.

"Hey! How many times do I have to explain-"

You cut him off to add in a mocking tone, "it's fashion!!"

He merely glares, to which you laugh. It was your turn to tease him for once. "Anyway, we need to take it back to its owner." You state.

"Can't we keep it for a bit longer, please?" He pouts, catching you off guard.

"U-uh, um, we can't!" You begin to object, but all you could think of was how cute that was. Looking at this guy, with at least 2 sets of ear piercings and a hair cut to display a rebellious aura, just sit there pouting at you because you told him to take the puppy back to its owner- it was so strange yet so adorable.

You do your best to ignore the red adorning your cheeks, as you stand your point and demand he takes it back.

"No fun." He grumbles, as he lifts the puppy and holds it to his chest. "Fine; where's the house? At least come with." He gets off the ground. That's when you first notice some minor details of his tank top. The sides were sort of see-through, allowing you glimpses of his toned body underneath.

"Whatchu starin' at?" Your eyes meet with the smug male's. His smirk just never left his lips, as he continuously wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"Nothing!" You push past him, giving yourself a way to hide your burning cheeks. "That's the house; just follow me." You announce, mainly to change the topic.

After doing your duty as a noble neighbour and returning the puppy to its owner, you head back to your house, Sigurd following behind- obviously.

"I'm so tired." You yawn.

The dark haired male gives an excited grin. "Time to sing you to sleep!" He claps happily. Mysterious charms they say. That guy is the biggest dork you've ever seen. You are friends with Serge, though, so maybe second biggest dork.

"You really don't have to-"

He cuts you off, "All due respect, but that's a bunch of crap. I want to do it, and you want me to do it too." Well, he wasn't wrong. Sigurd's voice is really unique; it's one you really enjoy listening to. This would pretty much be like a private show..how can you say no?

"Well, get comfortable cuz I'm not gonna strain my precious vocals just for you to not fall asleep." He informs, earning an eye roll from you.

Once you place yourself in relaxing position and pull the covers up to your chest, Sigurd begins singing quietly and soothingly. His voice was so calming and gentle, urging you to throw away your worries and let the sweet melody carry you to the land of dreams. Which you inevitably did. Your eyelids had already gotten too heavy for you to keep them open; therefore, it took no time for you to drift into deep sleep.

######

An annoyingly loud ringtone disturbs your comfortable sleep, and you force your eyes open.

You hear a groan coming from the edge of the bed, almost giving you a heart attack before you remember last night's events.

"Hello?" Sigurd grumbles into his phone. As it was a video call, you could see the caller- Serge.

"Sigurd, wher- wait a minute; is that (Y/N)?! Why are you in bed with (Y/N)?? (Y/N), why are you in bed with your least favourite member of the group??" Serge cuts off his own speech to begin yelling about the situation he misunderstood.

"Wait; what do you mean least favourite member?? Why am I your least favourite?! Who's your bias then??" Sigurd complains. What made it funnier and cuter was the fact that you could tell he was genuinely offended by him not being your bias.

"Guy." You confess, "or Joel."

"I spent the night here and sang you to bed; don't I at least get an upgrade??" He whines.

"Hey, why am I not your bias?" Serge joins in, also visibly offended.

"You're my friend. it's weird to have you as a bias." You defend.

"Joel and Guy are your friends too!" Serge just isn't having it, clearly.

"Oh my god, Serge, just let it go, please?" You plead. It was too early in the morning for this.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. We'll discuss this later." He states. "Anyway, Sigurd, where did you leave my phone? I don't wanna keep using Guy's! Well, not that he would let me, but yeah."

"Your pho- oh." Sigurd's confused expression switches to an embarrassed one. "I might've taken it with me?" He pulls a second phone from his pocket.

"Sigurd, I've been calling since morning! You better bring it back right now! I can't believe you-" Sigurd cuts off Serge's rant by hanging up. "Well, I guess I have to go. Man, I'll never hear the end of it!" He groans, to which you giggle lightly. "I mean it is your fault for taking his phone." You point out.

"I was comforting you!" He defends. He looked so hurt you didn't appreciate his 'efforts', which made you want to pinch his cheeks or something. His hair had gotten messier, somehow making him even more attractive, yet you wanted to pinch his cheeks. Well, in your defense, he was acting like a child.

"Anyway, I'm gonna get going now." He pushes himself off the bed. "If you ever need someone to spend the night again, always call me." He winks. "You're an idiot." You shake your head.

"Goodbye, (Y/N)." He smiles. (Y/N). This was the first time he calls you with your real name ever since you met.

"You just called me (Y/N)." You grin victoriously.

"No, I didn't, cupcake." He yells, disappearing into the hallway. You throw your head back in frustration. He just won't stop being his annoying self, huh? Sadly, you felt yourself liking it and waiting for another meeting with him.

"I'm getting bias wrecked, aren't I?" You sigh.

[goodlucktai]

I just read that drabble you wrote two days ago -- the one where Kitamoto gets hurt -- and and and... COULD THERE PLEASE BE A CONTINUATION?? I really want to see how Nishimura and Kitamoto react to flying on Madara and their realization that Natsume indeed can see youkai and and and I'm imagining Natsume being terrified that they'll be too scared to approach him from now on but they're just like dude, you're our friend and always will be, and it'll be Tanuma's first time flying as well and AAHHH

a continuation of this

x 

Disappearingcats and disembodied voices are both things that Satoru was notprepared to deal with during their overnight camping trip; rightalongside his best friend breaking his wrist, and the four of themgearing up for an admittedly treacherous hike back down the mountainin the dark.

ButNatsume’s face is white with real fear, and his eyes are as dark asthey were the day Satoru met him, even if his expression doesn’treally change much. His arms are curled around his middle the waythey’d usually be curled around his cat, like a guard – as if thosefrail hands could shield him from anythingthat really wanted to hurt him – and, remarkably, Satoru can put asideeverything else that’s going on to frown at his friend.

Sure,there was a violent curl of wind and a screen of white smoke, andNyan-nyan-sensei vanished into thin air. Kitamoto stumbled back a fewsteps in alarm, but Tanuma was there to keep him steady, which leaves Satoru free to jab a finger at Natsume and snap, “You look like you’regonna pass out! Take a breath!”

Someof that awful, bleak dread in Natsume’s face recedes to make room forbewilderment instead. Satoru has that affect on people.

Andsure he’s scared, somewhere, in the back of his mind. His hands areshaking a little, so he shoves them in his pockets as he takes a fewfake-fearless steps forward, and makes sure to scowl at Natsume thesame way he always does; when Natsume won’t share the answers he gotfor their homework, or some of the tasty-looking food Touko packs inhis lunch. Like it’s everyday and normal, and Satoru’s not going to do –whatever it is Natsume is so afraid Satoru might do.

Satorudoesn’t like being on the other side of this wall Natsume puts up.He likes to think the two of them are close, these days, and hedoesn’t want to get pushed farther away.

“Iknew your ugly cat was weird,” Satoru leads with. “It cantalk, can’t it? I’ve heard it acouple of times, haven’t I?”

“Cheekybrat,” the voice of an old man grumbles from behind Natsume’sshoulder. Satoru jumps, and hears Kitamoto mutter a faint “what thehell,” but Natsume lifts a hand almost by reflex, reaching out asthough he’s patting a large animal that isn’t there. And seeing himdo that is a little disarming, like watching someone greet a faithfuldog at the front door. “If you could see my true form, you would beawed by it.”

Really,maybe it isn’t as surprising as it should be. Natsume’s always been alittle jumpy and a little odd, but once upon a time he was a quiet,brand new transfer student with reserved mannerisms and glass eyes,and Satoru yelled hurtful things at him in the library over anorigami book. Satoru never apologized for that – never explainedthat it was something dark and hateful weighing on his heart, makinghim do and say things he didn’t mean –  but he had never needed to.Because Natsume seemed to understand without asking, and followedSatoru when that darkness on his heart steered him blindly into thewoods, and knew how to save him, and carried him back home on thinshoulders, in thin arms.

MaybeSatoru has been willfully blind up until now, putting weird incidentsout of his mind as they happened so Natsume’s smile would stoplooking so strained. And maybe it was a kindness then, but it feelslike a disservice now.

“Nyan-nyan-sensei?”he says carefully. “Um – sorry, I’ve never talked to a talkingcat before – uh, so, how are you? And – what areyou? And – where…” he adds, sweeping their clearing with shrewd eyes, “…areyou?”

“He’sa yokai,” Tanuma steps in. His voice is so calm andsteady that it soaks most of the tension out of the air like asponge, and his eyes are focused on Natsume, clear and bright andsupportive. “Natsume can see them. They give him a lot of troubleat times, so Ponta looks after him. Like a bodyguard.”

“That’swhy he’s always following you around,” Kitamoto says carefully. Theshock didn’t do him any favors – jumping back like that probablyjarred his arm, if the way he’s wincing is any indication – butthere’s nothing mean in his face when he looks at Natsume. Satoru hasno clue why Natsume was afraid there ever could be. “I wondered howhe always managed to tag along on our school trips.”

Natsumeis looking back and forth between the three of them slowly, frozensomewhere between disbelief and confusion. He’s digging his fingersinto fur that Satoru can’t see, clinging to his calico cat’s trueform the way Kitamoto’s little sister used to cling to their mom’ssmock when she was younger. A safety blanket, Satoru thinks, andmoves stubbornly closer. Natsume doesn’t need oneof those right now, he’s not in any danger among his best friends.

“Soyou already told Tanuma about all this?” Satoru can’t help feeling a little hurt,but he’s mostly just trying to get that look off Natsume’s face whenhe adds, “That’s not fair, I knew you first!”

Tanumasmiles kindly at Satoru, seeing right through his efforts the way healways does whenNatsume is involved. “It’s not something he talks about easily,even to me. I can sense yokai, too, but only barely. That’s why I wasso interested in meeting Natsume after I heard all those rumors abouthim. I had never met anyone else who was aware of yokai before.”

“Me,too,” Natsume offers at that point. His voice is very soft, but hepresses bravely forward anyway. “I’ve always been the only one whocan see them. And it’s dangerous, when other people get involved. So,I – I keep it a secret. I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you,I promise it’s not that. Sorry.”

Satorustares at him. The single step between them feels about a mile wide,and yawning wider.

Healways knew there had to be a reason someone like Natsume grew up sounwanted, passed from place to place, from family to family. Therehad to be a reason why people spoke so badly of him, why rumorsfloated after him at every new school he enrolled in. Rumors thatcalled him creepy, andcursed, and a liar.

Back when Natsumewas little, Satoru thinks, it probably wasn’t as easy not to flinchwhen he saw a monster in the window. It probably wasn’t as easy notto cry when something scary followed him home.

And Satoru has seenhim faint without warning in the hallway at school, and fall off abridge into the deep of the river as if he was pushed, and run awayinto the dark of the forest by himself, and shout half of a heatedargument into thin air. He comes to class with dark circles undertired eyes and a wan smile that doesn’t touch the rest of his face,only leases impersonal space with his mouth. 

It’sdangerous enough that he needs a bodyguard, Satoru realizes. It’sscary enough that Tanuma always looks pale when Natsume is late forschool.

“Yeah,”Kitamoto says quietly. “I think I understand.” He’s watchingNatsume carefully, but when Natsume glances at him, Kitamoto softenswith a grin. “So can we pet him? You know Nishimura’s dying to.”

A gustof warm, musky air hits the side of Satoru’s face and rufflesNatsume’s hair – a huff of breath, followed by a disgruntled, “Doyou mistake me for a household pet?”

“Sensei,”Natsume scolds him, at the same time Tanuma says, “Mistake? Ponta,he carries you around every day like a doll.”

They do get to pethim. For all his mighty bluster, and the animated way he and Natsumebicker with each other, he subsides after a few minutes with athroaty grumble. Natsume guides Satoru’s hand to the thick of soft,downy fur, and it’s a little trippy – after all, he can’t seeanything there – but more than that, it’s really cool.

“What does helook like?” Satoru asks, trying to find Nyan-nyan-sensei’s favoritespot to be scratched behind the ear. The invisible body beneath hishand shifts, startling him for a moment, until he realizes thecat-yokai is leaning into the touch. Like a dog, he thinks again, gleefully,and finally finds a big, soft ear to scratch behind. “What color ishe? Is he really, really big? Can he really fly? Are we really goingto fly?”

When he glances up, Kitamoto and Tanuma are both smiling at him – so warm and fond that it’s a little embarrassing, so Satoru quickly looks over at Natsume instead. At Natsume, whose amber eyes are light again, and trembling wetly with something that looks like downright staggering gratitude, and jeez, he’s no better than the other two. 

If he thanks me I’ll hit him, Satoru decides mulishly, even as his face burns under the combined attention. Natsume doesn’t, though. He wipes a sleeve over his face, even though he hasn’t cried, and turns to offer Kitamoto his hand.

Looking a little taller, and a little older, and a little softer in the bright moonlight as he says, “Yeah. Let me show you.”