#be the red wings content you want to see in the world i guess

[crossbackpoke-check]

bring a friend home today! adopt, don’t shop 🐶@metroitdetroitanimals 6.28.2022

[jenyifer]

23.5 ep 1 initial reaction!!!

Been waiting for this one!!!! I’m so excited!!! I love consuming queer media because I’m a lesbian. But there is very sapphic content that I have really enjoyed. Too often it’s unrealistic fetishized toxic red flag material. While high school slice of life isn’t my favorite genre I’m ready for this!! I’m very happy with ep 1 very relatable interesting stylized characters.

Let’s get into the photo review!!!! I didn’t take a ton so don’t expect this too get too wordy

I like how they play with anonymity getting to know someone without fully seeing them or the situation. Starting off scene one. I find it interesting that Sun is always moving to Ongsa it’s very sweet. She’s the one who gets up seeks Ongsa again and again.

Are you a true loser if you haven’t had a mental breakdown in the toilet? 😭 recently I had a panic attack made it to the restroom to hide the effects then accidentally left my BTS Wings tour hat in there. Panic fog is real. But been doing it since high school. Ongsa needs to perfect the quiet melt down lmao.

Sun is so precious. I guess it’s because the show is from Ongsa’s POV but I’m stunned and in love too. She’s really trying her best to be a good person. She finds Ongsa magnetic. It’s not overstated.

Gahhh Ongsa’s nerd happiness is so cute. She must be protected at all costs she can do nothing wrong. Just want to boop her and Latte’s nose.

Awwww Aylin’s advice and defense mechanism is very sweet her looks are Iconic. She says Just be yourself. But then she’s looking for aliens because her classmates says she is one. 😭 painful. But she owns it. I’m jealous.

Big sister squad assemble. The filming thing does make me feel old. I’m sure this is how high schools are these days. I mean people bullied using social media when I was in high school but it wasn’t yet invasive filming. But!! Bullying feels the same. Impersonal. For personal gain.

Also a little confused as to why Ongsa lived in Phuket while her sister was going to school here.

I adore how Sun is falling in love with Ongsa slowly by enjoying her personality and humor. Just as the thing Ongsa loves about Sun is how positive and caring she is. Although Ongsa does already find Sun B E A U T I F U L. Can’t blame her. But Sun intelligently connecting to Ongsa is finding a path to who she really is

Which makes the texting scenes so beautiful. Sun is in Ongsa’s world. I adore the other worldness they are together seeing who they really are. Two beautiful souls trying to connect.

[cozza-frenzy]

can you do some doodles of your inner world and maybe describe it? Also what do all the details in your guy's outfits mean.

Terry: Anon you have no idea how long I've waited for someone to ask this question. I already have a few drawings prepared, so let's start with where I'm currently standing - the fronting room! Our inner world is surprisingly complex, and our home is on a dragon-shaped airship - soon to be re-christened The Spirit Of Highwind - and the room we're in while fronting is in the head.

The black circle on the floor is the "fronting circle"; if someone's standing within that area, they're actively in control of all or part of the body. The red couch is where we can sit if we want to when using the "fronting desk" and its floating screens, though we can also stand up or even lay down. We're on the upper deck, and on the lower deck (not pictured here) is a spiral staircase leading upstairs (on the left) and a second couch with a fireplace (on the right). If the doors to the left and the right look out of place - that's because they kind of are. They're not part of the airship but are actually a part of The Distortion - a normally-invisible "layer" of the word that connects all other areas together via doors, controlled by Chaos, our gatekeeper. It put them there as permanent doors so folks in other areas don't have to ask for one every time they want to front. Up ahead of us where we're "parked" right now is the Everfree Forest (the normal-looking trees) and the Deep Woods. The Deep Woods creates its own eternal night under the giant tree; growing in various places up the trunk and in the canopy are Stars Of Hope, a glowing flower that you see almost everywhere in the Inner World.

The glowing stuff below is the Agua Vida; water that spills from Soda Lake, up in the caldera of Mount Discovery. Hope takes many physical forms in our inner world, and the Agua Vida is a potent source of it, having been recently adopted by the rest of the system as a daily supplement. Like a psychosomatic vitamin, adding it to a drink helps restore our energy, keeping us focused on healing. We want to try and use it on the vegetables in the Community Garden (just outside where the ship is "parked") one of these days.

Here's a view of Soda Lake and Mount Discovery from above - based on an in-system pencil sketch I made. Following our mass fusion the inner world changed a lot, so this area (and the internal part of the Deep Woods) are "cut off" from Chaos' Distortion until they're "re-discovered". From what i could tell from flying the airship over it, there's a solidified lava floe down the east side, and water is flowing out of the lake towards the south. We'll get there eventually; for now, most of us are content to stay closer to home as we recover. I just hope the plants and animals native to those areas have survived. That's the main part of our inner world covered at least - while most of us have "domains" of our own that we control access to, after the recent mass fusion, a lot of us aren't able to let other alters in or simply can't remember what the places look like once we leave. Given enough time, this stuff should come "back online" much like our broken fast-travel system. As for the "details on our outfits" - not everything in our PFPs necessarily means something, and we can change outfits in system. I like my hat and I like loud shirts, Vivien's shirt is the CMYK colors used in printing, Roses and Thirteen have each other's colors on their pictures because they're in a Queerplatonic relationship.

But I guess one thing that has been appearing a lot in system after our mass fusion is the Compass Rose. You can see it on the floor of the fronting room, on Dagwood's bowtie and Taffy's cape - Roses has it as part of a tattoo on her arm, and I have it as a marking on my back between my wings. I'm not sure why our brain has such an attachment to the symbol, but I like to think it's something to do with moving forward and being pointed in the right direction.

...Or maybe it's just a SAVE point. Knowing that Undertale left such a huge impression on our system fills you with Determination.

[rainontherooftops]

Petrichor - Part 1 of ?

Summary: Pero Tovar is not very impressed by the arrival of the new counselor at his nursing home. He has to take care of his elderly patients and has no time to make sure that the new hire doesn't fuck up. But soon he will have to learn that his new colleague is not intimidated by his grumpyness.

Fandom: The Great Wall - Pedro Pascal as MODERN! Pero Tovar Genre: Romance, Colleagues to Friends to Lovers, Drama, Alternative Universe, 18+ Content Pairing: Modern! Pero Tovar x f!OC Triggers (Chapter): Mentions of Sickness, Workplace Drama Rating Chapter: T

IMPORTANT INFO: THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY FORMER TUMBLR BLOG

**

Petrichor - Part 1

Pero was grumpier than usual, watching the woman that William was talking to by the coffee machine right before the staff meeting started.

He was always weary of new arrivals, having been underwhelmed by too many people who just couldn’t cope with the work at the care facility for the elderly. She seemed utterly unprepared for a job here. She was not wearing scrubs, for one thing, so she couldn’t be one of the nurses.

Was William hitting on her before the meeting started? Because the woman wasn’t even cute. At all.

He wouldn’t be distracted by the flowery skirt, the thick thighs that were probably rubbing against each other when she walked around, or the cheeks that would surely turn red like ripe apples when he’d pinch them.

And she was so tiny. Were he to step up to her, she would probably be faced with his chest. She would have to look up at him with those doe like eyes. And her hands were tiny as well! And her hair was blonde, but with cotton candy pastel color strands in almost every color… How did colored hair look that natural on her?

Seriously, what did William see in that woman?

“Good morning, everyone!”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Pero focused his attention to Mrs. Hawthorne, the care home director.

“Just a quick update from the night shift. Everything is fine with our residents, nothing out of the ordinary. We’ll begin with breakfast first thing. Nurses in Wing B, please double check the medication list, there have been some changes over the last few days due to the new treatments.”

Business as usual it seemed.

“… and before I let you all get to work, I’m sure you all wondering who the young woman in the back is that is dressed like a rainbow.”

Everyone stopped staring in secret and turned their heads to the woman who was still standing next to Will, a coffee mug clutched in her hand.

“Would you like to introduce yourself, Amelia?”, Mrs. Hawthorne said, coercing her to come to the front.

She handed her coffee mug to William, who gave her an encouraging smile.

“G-Good morning everyone. My name is Amelia Banks. I’m the new counselor for the residents here, but I’m also here to listen to any problems or concerns you might have.”

Mrs. Hawthorne took over again, effectively interrupting her.

“Amelia will officially start her work in two weeks, but she’ll be helping out with everyday chores to get to know our residents and all of you, so be nice to her.”

Welcoming murmurs and curious stares were shared. The woman looked fresh and untainted by the working-class world; it was impossible to guess her age. And she had an awfully innocent and chipper aura about herself.

They’ll all eat her alive, Pero thought, sure that this thought was true for both the residents and her new colleagues.

“… and that’s why you’ll be working with Pero for the next week, Amelia. That’s the mean looking bloke over there.”

Wait, what?

“What?”

William, the bastard, chuckled.

“You’re always whining about how you don’t have enough help, Pero, so Amelia will help you on your rounds.”

He wanted to protest. He wanted to protest so badly.

But Hawthorne dismissed everyone, and it was impossible to object. William had the audacity to clap him on the back walking out, wishing him good luck. He would have his hands full today in Wing B with the new medication routine, so they probably wouldn’t see each other all day. “Be nice to her”, he said, knowing fully well that his friend was grumpy.

For his sake he would try. But he didn’t make any promises.

By the time Amelia managed to wiggle her way through the mob of busy people who were exiting the meeting room, he was annoyed. He had to get going.

“Hello, I’m Amelia. I’ll be in your care for this week”, she introduced herself, smiling. His eyebrows furrowed and he grunted, something that sounded like ‘sure’.

“Follow me”, he ordered, not even checking if she was on his heels. The faster she learned that he was busy, the better.

“I don’t have time to babysit you”, he said, turning down the hall.

Hurrying through the main foyer, the two of them took the entrance to Wing A, where the long-term residents were living.

“The twenty people in this wing are under my care. Normally William is with us, but we’re short staffed so he’s taking care of B until we have a new nurse.”

He could feel that she was trying to keep up with him. At least she wasn’t wearing heels.

He opened the first door to the right, the nurses station, which also served as his break room and the storage for the wing. He grabbed one of the trolleys and opened the cabinets before turning to her.

She was watching him attentively, ready to soak in information like a sponge.

“Ground rules”, he almost barked.

“You get my patients upset, you’re out. You don’t follow my instructions, you’re out. You complain about anything you see, hear or smell, you’re out. You do the job and we won’t have a problem. Clear?”

“Yes?”, she said, a little high pitched, but ready.

He sighed, turning to the cabinets.

“First job of the day, room checks. Right now our residents are having breakfast. Night shift says everything is fine, which means that they left us with the mess, and we have to clean up. We’re handing out medication, we’re changing sheets, towels and we prepare our residents for the day.”

As patient as possible, he showed her how he liked to stack his trolleys with fresh sheets and towels, medical supplies and everything else he might need.

“If I don’t have something on the trolley I need, you’ll find it in here. I’ll manage medication, you don’t touch those, understand.”

“Understood”, she said.

“Let’s go. Keep up. I’m putting you on trash duty.”

He didn’t even explain what trash duty was, he just shoved a huge trash bag into her hand and was out the door, shoving the trolley in front of him.

It was 7:30 A.M. and there was noise coming from every room on the floor. They got into the elevator and he explained that they would deal with the residents on the first floor first and work their way back down.

The right side of the hall was the outside wall of the building, covered in glass to give the residents the chance to look outside onto the grounds whenever they wanted. But today there was not much to see yet but the rain that was drumming against the windows.

“First stop. Behave yourself,” he ordered, before entering the room.

***

Amelia had been following her new co-worker for all of 10 minutes and she was already exhausted and full of information.

She had hoped that her first impression of him was wrong, but his grumpy exterior was the perfect mirror to his personality. He was curt, obviously annoyed that they had shoved the “new one” into his path and he was looking at her like she was totally out of place.

She was clutching the trash bag and entered behind him into the room of the first resident. The rooms were functional and not very big, but comfortable. They were all furnished the same as far as the medical beds and basic furniture was concerned – but she would soon learn that friends and family had brought different trinkets to make the residents rooms individual heavens.

“Morning, Pete. How you doin’ today?”

Amelia’s eyes widened in surprise. A second ago, Pero Tovar had been a grumpy, rude man – now he was chatting happily with a resident, a freakin’ smile on his face. He was sporting dimples on his face. Fucking adorable dimples, for heaven’s sake.

“Is it my birthday? Who’s the pretty young lady you brought me?”

Peter Kline was a man in his eighties. He was sitting at a little table, having his breakfast. He was wearing a pair of cotton pants and a sweater, his full, white beard covering half of his face.

“Sorry, Pete, she’s with me. New counselor”, he said, looking at a clipboard.

“Good morning”, she said, smiling at him and earning a warm smile in return.

“Good morning, sweetheart. If this one gives you any trouble, you make sure to tell me, alright?”

Pero rolled his eyes and then had a serious look at his patient.

“How was your night Pete? You look good today.”

“No episodes tonight, thank fuck”, the old man replied. “No horrible dreams, no need to change my sheets today.”

“The new medication working okay then?”

“Knocks me out flat for eight hours straight. No side effects so far.”

Pero seemed satisfied and handed the man his blood pressure medication.

“See you later, Pete.”

For the next two hours it went one similar to this.

Amelia helped Pero change spoiled bedsheets, put dirty towels in the hamper in the hallway, helped dressing residents for the day who were not able to dress themselves and picked up trash from the rooms that had not made it to the trash cans.

She met the residents one by one, secretly keeping notes in her head about the people who would probably need weekly counseling sessions.

Everything went well – so well even that Amelia went ahead to open the door for Pero at the last residents door – and promptly got hit by an aluminum bed pan on the forehead.

“Oh shit. Walter?! What did I tell you about throwing your bed pan across the room?!”

Amelia sat on the floor, dizzy. She had fallen onto her butt and pressed her hand to her forehead, where a bump was forming.

“Who’s the wench? I don’t know her!”

“Urgh… I’ll deal with you in a minute Walter. Behave!”

Pero closed the door again and Amelia saw him getting on his knees, gently getting her head out of the way.

“Sorry, should have warned you about him. You okay?”

The look on his face was almost concerned.

“I’m fine, I think. Just a bit dizzy.”

Pero helped her to her feet and led her to the break room again, sitting her down on his bunk.

“Ice pack”, he said, handing her the blue plastic bag so she could cool her head.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” she answered, sighing contently as the blue cooling packed touched her bump.

Pero opened a small fridge in the corner, opened a bottle of water and made her drink in small sips.

Only then did she notice the smell and looked down on herself. Her white t-shirt was not white anymore.

“Oh… That bed pan was not empty,” she said, sighing. Working with elderly patients, she had expected to be met with all kinds of fluids – just not on her first day.

“You don’t have a shirt I can borrow, by any chance?”, she asked, standing up – and promptly reaching out to him to not fall onto the floor.

“Whoa, easy there. You sure you’re okay?”

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, then nodded.

“Just a small dizzy spell. I’ll be fine.”

She tried to ignore the blush that was creeping up her neck, as she realized that they were very close indeed.

He guided her back to the bunk, opened a cupboard and handed her a dark blue shirt.

“There’s a sink over there. Do you need my help changing, or…?”

She shook her head, almost regretting it immediately.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be out in a minute?”

He nodded, leaving her alone in the room to change.

It wasn’t even noon yet and she already had to change her shirt because it had pee on it, she was sporting a head bump and the grumpy nurse had more sides to him than a rubix cube.

This job was going to be interesting – and incredibly exhausting for her body and her heart.

But, as she changed and washed up, she wondered if it would be worth it if she got to see the honest smile on the Spaniards face once in a while.

**

AN: This is a repost from a previous Tumblr account.

[darlingpwease]

You always catch me off guard because ur the first person to actually ever bring up what I've said in past convos like you do 😭

Yeah, I can see it. I don't think he'd be bratty right away, but maybe one day he accidentally gets too close to someone, he acts a little too friendly with them,, and it pisses you off so much that you had to give him a reminder that he was yours, not someone else's. It was the first time you acted like that with him, but he didn't expect to love it as much as he did. He loved it so much to the point where he actively seeks out doing things just so that you can treat him that way again,,, yeah I can def see it. Hey, if I am, I like to think it's at least surface level. /hj

I guess it's my charm??? /j /nsrs,, as long as it's not an actual block, then I guess I can deal with the gifs :VV

I... I have to admit that I have been having ideas like that with him recently "૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა I feel like I've been caught red handed HAHA

Dove,, have i ever mentioned how amazing ur mind is?? It blows me away everytime.. famous!Yuuta who still got shy when people would compliment him and his works, even with how big he was,, he has heard of famous people having stalkers but he never had one himself,, or, well, that's what he thought until you came along. Stalker!reader that kidnapped him, you had memorized almost every word in all of his works, recorded every interview, took any photos with him in it as possible, and you worshiped him. Or priest!Yuuta, a man under God who hopes to help others anytime of day, when you first came to the confession booth to him, you were struggling. The more you came to him, the more closer you grew until the need to be next to one another seeped into your bones. He was a man if God, but when you whisper lovely words into his ears and kiss him so wonderfully, all he can think of is you being his God. You mentioned druid!Yuuta, but what about changeling!Yuuta?? Although he would hate to show you his face, what if you hate it? What if you never wanted to see him again?? What ever you'd like, what ever would make you stay with him, he is willing to be whoever you want him to be. Look however you want him to look, you just have to never leave him. His desperation looks pathetic, really. But when he's on his knees, begging for just one more time, how can you ever let him go??? Bird!hybrid!Yuuta who you stumbled upon one day, so pretty and so plaint among the others, you knew you had to keep him. Keep him in the prettiest cage, spoiling him to ur hearts content. When you kidnap take him home, he's oddly flattered, nobody has ever been this nice to him before... even when you tease him to the point of frustration, always caressing his back and under his wings despite knowing full well why you shouldn't do that, only to then fuck him lovingly until all the sexual frustration leaves him and all he can do is beg you to keep going,,,, my brain is rotting :((

Don't make me start wearing earmuffs, please :'// I feel like no area is target-safe now <//333 /t ...i... I tease... that I can't deny,,,

-panna cotta

babyboo, I get it, but in the real world, people call it "talking"</33 you know when you listen to what someone else is saying and produce it at a moment when they don't expect it to catch them off guard</333 and the fact that I can always re-read it in the text version only makes everything better hehehe I mean, mature panna cottas have to keep their word, and what will help you learn to keep your word more than me, who will constantly remember them? everything for my sweet bun<333 /t /j

yes!!! I just,,, I believe that one day he sees you being rude and wow, it's hot??? when you grab his face, or pinch him, or drag him with you, but Yuuta does not resist, blushing, not quite understanding what you want, but agreeing with everything you offer, being confused, but feeling that he should not bother you when the atmosphere around you is so tense,,, refuses to ask for forgiveness, although you can feel how fast his heart is beating and how he is trembling under you, intoxicated by the feeling of how passionately you manhandle him :((( ... 🤨huh... I'll write you down as not suspicious, but so far only with a pencil /t /j

to be honest, I was thinking about how you react to teasing Toge, and Yuuta, being greedy for attention, also wants you to look at him the same way you look at Toge, and at first everything is fine (you know, his attempts to annoy even cute), but then someone flirts with him and you you just click, because you keep thinking that he is doing it on purpose, and you want, well, not to "teach a lesson", but to do something, seeing his smiling face, even knowing that this is just his way of being polite</3333 after all, you're fine with him being naughty or playful, but you draw the line at flirting with others, okay? he deserves to have his brains pounded off during a rough fuck ://

I am glad that you are at least aware of your only weapon and the reason why I continue to hold you; such awareness would even be commendable if we did not talk about you, considering how you usually abuse my favoritism towards you🙄😒 /j /ht anons should be blocked only as a last resort, but I know blogs that can be blocked... /t /j /nsrs

I mean, it's not our fault that he's such an ideal material for dark content, okay? sometimes he just deserves to be locked in a cage, kidnapped and forced to be trained until he understands who he belongs to<333

such a huge brain,,,, thank you, it was a very beneficial exchange, now these ideas arE MINE— >:33333

1) famous!Yuuta whom you convince that you care about him, constantly pampering and cherishing, because you can't let him go outside, it's dangerous outside, and it's strange, — but it quickly calms him down; when you coo that he is even more beautiful than in the photos, and you promise that you will be gentle with him and do everything for him, trying to bring him interesting things and caring for him, and the fact that he is so calm bothers you,,, but it's not enough that you try to put something more serious on him than your collar,,,, in the end, he is so calm and behaves as you expected, even if he is clearly not so desperately resisting and not trying to convince you to let him go, gently stroking you when you put your head on his hips or snuggling up to you to the sounds of his favorite movie, hiding his face in your neck, causing your heart to explode from the closeness of your idol to you!!! is he real??? are you sure you will die if he continues to be so sweet!!!

2) Yuuta,,, Yuuta who tries to pray for salvation, for peace, for the Deity, — but his thoughts always come back to you, about you, as if the only thing his brain can think about is how you are now, with whom you are now, what you are doing, how you feel, do you care about yourself, do you think about the Deity, do you think about him, do you think about him as often and passionately as he thinks about you? When he eats, when he helps people, when he cares in the garden, when he prays, when he reads, when he looks into the clouds or waits for your arrival, zealously searching for a familiar face among the parishioners, and cannot restrain a feverishly blooming smile at the sight of you, hurrying to meet to offer his help. He is so gentle, so kind, so affectionate, a real priest, and they predict a great fate for him, unequivocally making it clear that "from above" they strongly recommend moving him up as quickly as possible, but he can only look for guilty kisses, blooming on his lips with intoxicating sweetness, hearing your whisper, purring prayers and asking him listen to your confession, let go of your sins, but Yuuta is sure that someone like you cannot have sins. You are so perfect — completely and in everything, and if they say that the 'Deity loves him', then he can't help but smile so widely and enthusiastically that others even want to tease him about it, not realizing that it's not about this wrong deity, but His own. Do you love him? He desperately wants to believe that You love him, that You want him, that You need him as much as he needs You, looking for You in the first and last rays of the sun, knowing that this is the only thing that matters while Your marks bloom on his body, like tiny flowers that You gave him, Your the most loyal and beloved follower,,,,, listen, but the setting of the "fantasy Middle Ages" where you are accused of blasphemy and demand your execution,,, and Yuuta literally goes crazy because he feels that his Deity wants to overthrow as a past deity once, and this makes him really believe that you are destined to lead a rotten church, while you can't help but think of him as a real divine son who came down to earth to save it and is now fighting for your life, even knowing everything about you???🤨🤨🤨 the demon!reader who constantly seduces Yuuta by seeping into his dreams, but Yuuta is sure that you are an angel and is ready to accept everything you are willing to offer, even after he sees your true appearance, completely becoming obsessive about you and demanding that you be with him forever no matter what, ready even to lead a religion if it means that you will you be with him</33333

3) a stranger of amazing beauty whom you meet in your favorite park, lonely and lost, and you can't pass by when you see his relieved and affectionate gaze, as if he absorbed all the purest tenderness of the world, looking at you with such love that for a moment you doubt how much his ignorance is real — but you can't think about for too long, as if enchanted by his beauty, which seems to you at the same time very familiar and unfamiliar (didn't you see him on the cover of a popular magazine?), and even his voice (definitely someone familiar...) is so affectionate and melodious, as if he is some kind of prince charming from a fairy tale, who unwittingly got into this world and is now trying to get back. but you weren't the type who fell in love with the first person you met, definitely not, — so you started dating a few months later, after many dates where your tastes and preferences turned out to be so similar that you couldn't help but feel a kindred spirit in him, even starting to be afraid of how perfect and adoring he was. how natural is it when a stranger you meet on the street turns out to be your ideal match and at the same time looks at you with such love, that you are sure — if it were material, you would drown in it, but even then he would put his life at risk but would save you, as if he didn't have no one more important than you, what bothers you even more when you find a magazine with him on the cover, and you can't get rid of a bad feeling, even when you think that it might be "his past hobby" — but then you break down and look for a song with an artist with a voice similar to him, vainly promising that if you don't find any, then close your eyes to this, only to realize that the voice of this performer is one in one voice of your partner. coincidence, right? just lucky, right? he's really like that, right? when he looks for your gaze, sitting on his knees in front of you, asking you to look at him, but seeing his fabulously beautiful, gentle face, you see the cover of a magazine, and hearing your name — the words of the song that you listened to until you started to throw up, only to convince yourself that these voices are completely different. listen, but when you manage to catch him changing his appearance, but forgets to change his voice? he is so desperately grabbing for you, begging you to listen to him, getting lost in explanations, crying, asking you not to leave him, promising that he will no longer deceive you, he will become anyone, he will become the one you want, he will be the most perfect for you, please don't leave him, please—

4) bird!Yuuta who turns out to be isolated from others, despite the fact that he is the first to catch your eye, as if begging you to take care of him and leave him alone, hiding from the eyes and looking like a frightened chick who is trying to teach flight by throwing out of the nest. He is thin, disheveled, gloomy and scared, shrinking into a ball and hiding in a corner, hiding head from others, but when you behave gently, he can't help but flinch before swallowing, not understanding what you want and when you stop, looking at you fearfully,,,, not at all as proud, royal and handsome as others, rather pinched and sad, but looking at you like wet eyes when you continue to caress him and talk gently, letting him get used to it, later looking for your presence so that you again compliment him and chat, giving the harpy a little affection that he greedily eats, almost demanding more with his hungry eyes,,,, and you, you just can't leave him, seeing how he becomes dependent on your love, sometimes even timidly following you, leaving the nest only to make sure that you are safe and will soon return to him — and this turns out to be a very convenient opportunity to take him with you, taking advantage of his trustfulness and relaxation next to by you, even if it hurts you no less that you can't be more willing. but he's a free bird, used to living outside, how can he agree to a cage? in the end, you have to show him why he should be with you and why, even in spite of the cage, he will be much happier than he is free. you give him the best food, beautiful things, a little freedom (not too far from you) and a lot of affection, spending all your time with him, even if at first he was timid, just not used to the new environment (even if you are sure that you heard his timid pleas not to give him to anyone), but later it's easy to get out on his own just to find you and lie down next to you, kissing you in your sleep, letting you clean his wings, stroking his soft belly, rubbing where no one is allowed before reminding him that if he needs something, he can ask you. when you gently caress his feathers while you ask him to lie down on his stomach so as not to damage them, even if you are clearly passionate not only about his wings, but he can't help but obey, whining that if you treat him like this, he can start laying eggs,,,,, listen, but when he becomes an end in itself a harpy that you've ever seen in your life after you lock him up with you, but he doesn't realize it at all, considering himself the same ugly bird, which is now too obsessive of his master and demands that you never get another hybrid and give it to anyone, and you don't want to tease him when his claws are so close to your neck;;; when he enthusiastically rides you, filling his soft belly, when you were not ready for this, since you decided to take off his chains and now he follows you around the house, even without looking out the window once again, calling you his heaven and swearing that the only place he will follow is everywhere behind you :(((

5) since this is a mermay for me, then merman!Yuuta who almost cries when you play with his slit for a long time, kissing his face and neck, stroking his tail, demanding that he does not let anyone in, not allowing his eggs to be fertilized and not fertilizing others, since you can be the only one with whom he has the right to have intimacy, — and even if the mermaids there is no concept of monogamy, Yuuta knows what it is among people, blindly agreeing, if only you would continue to finger his slit, soaking your fingers with his sticky juice, created to facilitate thrusts inside and fertilization of eggs, but you only tease him, giving him an orgasm with a feeling of emptiness inside, demanding that he repeat your words and swear that only you will be inside him, only you will be the parent of these babies,,,, when you are forced to be absent and Yuuta must not let anyone touch his swollen tail due to eggs, which seems very indecent inside society, but he always refuses the offer to relieve him of this discomfort, waiting for you to return and breed him, even if several months pass, and proposals for mating are already definitely received not only out of pity, but he can't help but be desperately obsessive about you, because he's not normal in any way at all, especially when it comes to you. when you return, as promised, and Yuuta's sluggish consciousness fixes and instantly realizes that it is you? That you're back? that the eggs inside him can finally be divorced? he pounces on you with such force that if it were a fight, you would be instantly killed, but inside it is so hot and wet that you don't really mind when he clamps you against a stone, desperately moving his tail, drooling when juice flows out of him, forcing you to stuff to the end and almost run into swollen eggs :((((

not okay as always tbh—

do you think they will help you? against my teeth? I, ah, I don't want to disappoint you, but if I chose a goal, then nothing will help the goal🤨🤨🤨 of course. who asked you to be so delicious, biteable and pretty??? It's your fault🙄😒 /t /j /nsrs I knew. I knew it. I'm, I'm going to bite yoUR THIGH— /hj

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Can we talk about the Rosetta Stone of heavily coded love language songs written by our favourite dysfunctional trinity; AKA the founding members of the original Uncool Bermuda Triangle Of Doom: John/Yoko/Paul and “(Just Like) Starting Over”?

Of course, it’s officially a song for Yoko, John is on record as saying it’s a song for Yoko, but to my ears, it’s a musical giant placard marked FOR PAUL!! (With a red sharpie heart around ‘Paul’)

From the thematic style, the extremely loaded choice of words, John’s Elvis crooning, the reminiscent rock n’ roll melody, right down to the announcement at the end of the song for a flight leaving for ‘London, England’, oh and OF COURSE the ‘spread our wings’ line… it just seems like a basket of Easter eggs to get Pauls attention.

It’s the “our life, together is so special, together” that gets me. It’s the theme of togetherness that seems like a defining motif of the John/Paul partnership in the good times, and what they desperately plea for in the bad. I see Starting Over as literally that, going right back to the beginning, to when they were teenagers and declaring their devotion and commitment to one another before setting off on adventures: “we’re gonna leave, take the next bus out of town” in “I Don’t Know/Johnny Johnny” . It was such a passionate declaration of: wherever we’re going, whatever we’re doing, we’re doing it together” . The warm, protective, safe space that they had created, where they can escape their past and take on the world; a John/Paul cocoon, The Nerk Twins within The Beatles - the nucleus within the atom - full of love, security and magic.

When the shit hits the fan - aka the critical juncture of 1969/Let It Be - ( I’m going to call this the second act, purely so it fits in with my theory!), Paul tries nostalgia to coax John back ‘home’ to the little nest he’s feathered - Population: Two (Of Us). Obviously, that doesn’t work out…

BUT! Just over a decade later, it sounds like John is feeling sentimental and nostalgic and has made up his mind to get back on that bus. Uh, I mean, airplane!

So this is how I see (Just Like) Starting Over as the third act, and borrowing the concept that the crux of a trilogy is for the story to go right back to the beginning, but this time viewing with a fresh perspective, he says:

“Let’s take a trip somewhere far, far away

We'll be together all alone again

Like we used to in the early days “— he is ready for a renewal of their adventures, but with an assurance of how they are wiser now; ‘we have grown’.

Whatever I’ve read online has firmly fallen in the ‘It’s for Yoko’ camp - purely because it’s a love song, so of COURSE it can’t be for Paul, right? A few admit it could be for Paul , but only as an admission that John wants to reunite with The Beatles.. (which I can kind of get behind)... But no-one anywhere is discussing the audio of the studio sessions, where he riffs around during rehearsal , because if this is a song for Paul, it’s a revelation:

‘Well everybody’s making love, why can’t we be making love, it’s easy?

Just take your clothes off honey, and stick your nose in money.

Why don’t we… do it in the road?

A little hotel where we used to screw

A motel down in Montauk; just you, me, the cook and the servants too’

Whoever the person on John’s mind is, it’s evident that he wants a revival of what sounds like a pretty hot, romantic and sexual relationship. The ‘stick your nose in money’ line is… interesting. I wasn’t aware of John having a bone of contention over Yoko and finances, (did he?) but wasn’t this one of his major gripes (and often mentioned grouses) over Paul’s ‘secret’ purchase of more shares of the Northern Songs catalogue? It’s a risky move to try and woo back a lover by dredging up a decades long grievance, but that’s our nonconformist John, I guess??

The doing it in the road line is.. kind of self explanatory? As for the hotel .. it didn’t seem like John and Yoko’s courtship was necessitated by sneaking off to conduct an illicit affair - they seemed pretty prominent from Day One of getting together, but it does put me in mind of the much mentioned Paris trip for John’s 21st birthday:

‘the little hotel with the nice bed’ that Paul still talks about to this day.

Granted, the motel in Montauk is kind of home turf for J&Y so I’ll concede that , but as for the rest of it…

My sticking point was learning that this was written at the same time, in Bermuda, that John wrote ‘Grow Old With Me’ - a loving ode from a husband to his wife. So the rational argument says.. both songs were written to the same person. But you have made the astute observation that John held Yoko in one hand and Paul in the other, so is it just my bourgeois mind that struggles to see that John could be saying to Person A: I want to recommit to our marital devotion to one another, whilst simultaneously saying to Person B ‘I want a renewal of our romantic adventures’ and that’s just how he rolls?

Nb, 1980 John unhelpfully throws a spanner in the works of this theory, because his attitude in interviews seems to be: “Paul who? Never heard of the guy, don’t think much of him, whoever he is, but whatever, who cares? I certainly don’t”.

Either way, it’s heartbreaking to hear the optimism and excitement in his voice, given the timing of the song.

I would love to know your thoughts! Am I totally wrong?

Hello dear friend! ❤️

In a nutshell, I think John wrote songs in 1980 about and/or to Yoko; I also think he wrote “craft” songs about an ideal marriage or a fantasy marriage that never actually existed.

And I absolutely believe Starting Over was written for Paul  :)  

This guy summed up my thoughts on John & Yoko in 1980 pretty well:

“It was an art project. The marriage was an art project. And AS an art project, it was fabulously successful. It presented an image of a sexist man who acknowledged his own anger, acknowledged that he “used to be cruel to his woman,” acknowledged all of that stuff. Subsuming it, sublimating it and becoming something else: trying to maintain a relationship of equality with a strong woman. And that continues through Double Fantasy. 

The facts almost don't matter. Because the image is a very, very strong one, and it would take a clearer rebuttal than we're ever going to get to destroy that image.”

I mean, the album has the word FANTASY in it, for crying out loud!  If that's not a winky face emoji of an album title, I dunno what is.

John specifically said he loved the phrase for its multiple meanings including "a double couple." (x) I'm curious... WTF is a double couple??!  Is it "John & Yoko" AND "John & Paul" ??  I've never heard anyone ever use that phrase before. 

Here's the thing about John... I don't think he is ever 100% comfortable spewing bullshit. So while he is willing to engage in a massive PR spectacle in 1980, he also drops little truth bombs here and there.  I think in 1980 John still gets mad at Paul, still gets competitive with him, still has resentments from 1966 that they never ironed out. So you'll hear those in some of his interviews. But I also think he absolutely adored Paul and wanted both Paul and the world to know it, and you can find that in interviews, as well.

I suspect trying to glean details from songs can sometimes be misleading (b/c sometimes songwriters take poetic license for the sake of the rhyme/groove/etc), but "when I see you, darling, it's like we both are falling in love again" is pretty much the most romantic thing ever.  When I see you isn't a detail to me, it's clearly about someone John doesn't see much (but when he does, all the feelings come rushing back).

How in the WORLD is John going to say anything other than Starting Over is for his wife, his co-creator, the woman he's kissing on the front of the album?  People will naturally just assume it anyway.  But Paul will know.

Expecting him to SAY it's about Paul is beyond unrealistic.  Anyone who argues that "if John didn't say it, it can't be about Paul!" is arguing that artists are incapable of writing things that are too difficult or dangerous (or just too embarrassing and tender) to discuss in public. Obviously that's not the case.

That said, the "it's for Yoko" interpretation is, of course, perfectly valid.  But my read is that Starting Over makes MUCH more sense as a love letter to an "old, estranged fiance."

[rebel-gender]

RE: Newcastle Terf Rally

just going to put this here content warning for anti setmism and transphobia and other evils.

As some of you may know there was a planed terf rally in the city of newcastle upon tyne. it has now infamously got around the internet that a woman talking about the far right conspiracy theory of “the big lie” which i am going to put here is a flase hood to spread anti semtism and other kinds of hate. i felt like i needed some where to write this down as i was in the protest on the trans rights side. im the robot northerner in the red coat. the rally was attended by local far right groups on the terf side. which while that may sound scary there was not many of them as newcastle upon tyne it’s self has been some what resistante to the kinds of thinking that lead one tp have those views. the demographics of the group at the rally were the ussel suspects of the terf rallys middle aged (40-50), *concerned* perants and bio essentialist  femanists. as well as some uni students who should know better. though often alot of the memmbers of this rally were not local to newcastle and actually often came form places southern of newcastle. i feel like this is something worth noting as there was a little preable on twitter about the terf train. how they started asking people if woman can have penises which one confused gordie was seen to have said “yea sure, i guess” the groups on the counter protest were local left wing orgs and lgbt groups. the northumbian IWW, the north east anarchist Group, North east agenst racism and LGBT+ Northern Social Group. as well as myself and many other protestors however this is my personal account of the events as they unfolded. the numbers of protestors vs terfs was 3/1 maybe even higher 11am the counter protest avrives outside newcastle civic centre there is speches about the nature of the terfs and refusing the claim that all trans women are dangerous. 12pm-1pm terfs start gathering behind the world war 1 merrolal called “the response” after they have set up there area of rally they turn to us and give the trans protestors middle fingers and backward V signs to show their contpept towards us. I should note at this ponit the northumbia police set up a line to sperate terfs and counter protestors so form this ponit forward i am not able to give much info on the terfside.

a line of women then got out their phones by the looks of it they were gathering video and photos of us as if we were creatures to be mocked. we sang songs and danced to make sure any audio that was used in the youtube video and streams whould not be able to be used. some of our number went to otherside undercover to try and see what they were saying. a memmber of the IWW turned towards me and said “they just qrouted main kampf” this is when we started going form defending trans rights in our chants to more anti fascist langure. I was given a microphone and for my part i tried to make them as unwelcome as one could. phrases such as “terf gan hyem”/ “terfs go home” and “no racism here” were shouted if they made it to the otherside i hope they did. I also shouted the signs that were on ourside “no terfs in the toon” “ trans women are women, trans men are men, non binary people are vaild and Intersex is beautiful” and “there is many, many many more of us then you” alot of these blured into one other arching statement of “your hate is not welcome here got back home” i had this mic for 2 hours i also asked people what they wanted to say or wanted me to say. as well as genreally checking if people needed any help or just were in trouble. i was armed also with a frist aid kit incase the need came for it. i handed the mic back to the IWW i held a trans flag and waved it proudly thinking my job was done. i waved it i span it around and then i had an idea maybe i could make little prank a place a trans flag in the terf crowd sadly the police told me to step back so i did. 2-3pm the terfs started to leave they had places to be but some stayed behid some of them approched a lad who had been protesting with us acused them of being transphobic for agreing with safegaurding messarges. another terf a proffesor confessed to being a tommy robbison surporter one of our number called her out on this. post protest as video came out i heared something at frist posie parker called “the (transphobic slurs) of newcastle are illiterate” and i feel this was aimed at us who used local dialect. afterwards the Northumbia IWW posted the statement of hypno-terf said about the big lie. northumbia police did try to arrest one of the lads in our nummber but thankfully they were able to walk free. my thoughts on this are that i am not surpised about that this is the group who pal around with the far right. for them to say this i hope this shows those who maybe misgudied feminists that the gender critical movement is a dangerous movement and not safe for those who are not rich, not white or that dont fit into that normal gender criticals seem to love. remmber at home if your reading this it is not a mistake that they had someone say this it was on purpose. they share the same bed as the alt right and glad made it so. these comments have been made in the wake of gender reform bill  being rejected using section 35 of the scottland act by the Uk govement. it is a scary time for alot of us here maybe not as bad as other places but were already seeing MP’s talk about who the union is more inportedent then trans peoples rights. not on just right but on left of the house of commons as alot of people veiw the veto of this bill as “british democracy working as it is ment to” my final thoughts are we must overcome this anyway we can; a better world is possable and that we must always fight for it.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

I may be hella afraid of birds but that wont stop me from making this.

Injured wing

The poor thing was in the balcony of the apartment. Making sounds and flapping their wings at ferocity to try to take flight again as you watched in pity.

Taking a warm towel from the dryer, your boyfriend's one since it was the comfier to be exact, you picked up the squirming little brow winged creature and took inside. You didn't had the heart to leave it out there, especially due to the snow.

While taking things out of cabinets, you didn't noticed your phone buzzing with the notifications of a certain... top hero calling you.

.

.

.

"A nightingale." You mused as you read on the internet what type of bird was now having fun on bathing on q small pot of water and singing to its heart content "How adorable!" You gushed as it shock out of the droplets of water as you carefully put a sorta of a tiny sling on a popsicle stick to mantain its feather that seemed to be broken stood on place.

"Sorry buddy, guess you're gonna have to stay like this for some time." The bird seemed to calculate your words before tweaking as you giggled at its cuteness.

That is until you heard the door opening and clicking shut.

Fuck. Keigo.

You grabbed the bird delicately and put it on a box filled with a soft towel and placed on your bed before going to open the bedroom's door to see a soaked wet, hair flat and worried hero with a frow.

"Is this some sorta of revenge or what? I was worried sick (Y/n)! You weren't answering your phone so I thought something happened." You picked your phone in confusion.

"You did?" Shit "oh..."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" He crossed his arms before sighing cupping your cheeks "Why did you stood me up? I thought we were going to have dinner together on that restaurant."

"God!" You face palmed "I totally forgot! I'm so sorry Kei!" You whined as he let out a chuckle.

"Is fine. Although I would like if you compesate for m-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you both froze when a couple of chirps were heard. You analyzed his expression and soon giggled in nervousness at seeing his wings puff up in alarm.

"Was that.. was that a chirp?" He yed you, his pupils dilated as you took a step back with a smile.

"I.. I dont know? Maybe they are out there singing." You rolled your eyes and sweated when he towered over you as you kinda protected the nightingale inside the box with your body.

Yet the chirps intensified...

"There is a bird in here." Hawks more accused than asked as you giggled in nervousness once again.

"A bird? Why would a bird be-" the nightingale manage to escape the box and tweaked at both of you "...here."

"What is he doing in here?" He asked, if you didn't know Keigo enough, you could assume he was... unpleasant.

That's why you were so hesitant on showing the little nightingale to him in the first place when he showed up. You werent blind, and knew Keigo had some bird attics that showed up here and there. It wasn't as frequent as it would be however he was resting if the commission hadn't somehow put their hands on it. But Keigo didn't hold much strings around you. So... you could clearly see that your boyfriend wasn't happy when another one of "his kind", especially a male, he could tell somehow it was a male by the chirping dont ask why, was beneath the same rooftop as him with his partner alone.

"Is here because he is injured Kei, he needs some treatment." You cupped your hands together for the nightingale climb in it as Hawks hlardd holes at the little thing.

"Take him to the vet or something kid, this ain't a clinic." You flinched at his words but still remained strong.

"No I am not." You said "I dont know if they are going to sacrifice him or not Kei, I cant take chances."

"Do you even know how to take care of a bird in the first place dove?!" He asked, hands up as his wings puffed even more which made you snort and arch an eyebrow at him as the fella in your hands chirped.

"Well, I do have some knowledge of wings. And have to take care of one on daily basics." You giggled at the expression of shock and insulted Keigo did before walking off and leaving him groaning and sulking at knowing you wouldn't get rid of that street bird...

.

.

"Keigo Takami." He froze when he heard his full name coming from your mouth "Put that phone down. That little bird is going to stay until it gets better." He did just as you said with an eyeroll before pouting in anger at seeing the bird at your shoulder.

That's his place to put his chin on and snuggle your neck with his face. His.

"And you have to carry that thing whenever you go now? That must suck." He tried to joke, leaning with crossed arms on the kitchen counter as before his face completely fell as you simply chuckled and said it didn't bother you at all.

"Seriously?" He asked in disbelief before grabbing his mug taking a few gulps before you widened your eyes and giggling "What are you laughing at?"

"Is just that mug was full of water early and maybe our little friend may have took a bath in it." Your boyfriend stood up so fast and soon you heard disgusting noises of vomiting .

"For god's sake KEIGO I WASHED IT!"

"I DONT CARE THAT THING SHOULDN'T BE BATHING ON MY STUFF WHAT THE HECK?!"

You sighed, waiting for your boyfriend to be back as you feed the little bird with some seeds carefully, soon being met with Keigo, still brushing his teeth.

"Drama king." You chuckled as he groaned "You know he is not a thing Kei, is a nightingale."

"Great knowing it." He said with a mouthful of toothpaste before spitting into the trash, saying something about not dirtying his bathroom with other birds germs or something.

He looked at you a bit in defeat at seeing you feeding the bird as you noticed his wings drooping a bit.

"What is wrong now bird brain?" You giggled at his expression.

"You should be feeding me ... your boyfriend." You snorted before picking a sunflower seed and showing it to him.

"I thought you didn't liked this stuff?" Yoh asked cheekily as he groaned.

"There is chicken, takoyaki, nuggets heck everything that I eat!"

The bird chirped and you nodded thoughtfully as he stared at you in confusion.

"Cannibalism. I agree."

"Oh cmon I thought we were over this..." he sighed before getting something from the fridge as he scowled at the chirps following after.

.

.

.

He glared at the bird chirping a song as you hummed in delight at the sound, staring lovely at the nightingale.

"Oh cmon Kei!" You poked his cheeks which was puffed "You have to admit is a amazing sound! Nightingales are famous for that!"

"Hawks are famous for other things too y'know?" He grumbled before widening his eyes at seeing you werent giving him attention, instead grabbing your phone and recording the nightingale's chirping.

"Hm? What did you say Kei?" You looked up at him with that smirk which made him scoff and stood up with crossed arms and going to the kitchen.

You stiffled your giggled, going to your pouting boyfriend and hugging him lovingly after putting the injured bird back to safety.

"You're really jealous huh?" You carresed his chest as he breathed in and out, cheeks red at being so obvious about his feelings.

"Is a form of flirting birds singing to their mates. That little shit." He mumbled, earning you a laugh that made him smile as feeling you peppering kisses all over his neck and jawline before he caught your lips with his.

You broke apart with a goofy smile as he chuckled before deadpanning at hearing chirps before puffing and straightening his wings on all glory before shouting at the nightingale:

"GO GET YOURSELF A PARTNER! THIS ONE IS TAKEN YOU PIECE OF CRAP!"

You never laughed so hard in your life. A sound that, for Keigo at least, was far more beautiful than any chirping, singing or melody on this whole world.

.

.

.

After a few days you saw Keigo's hatred for the nightingale easing slowly but surely. Yet you never thought that coming home late on one of Keigo's day off, you would see your boyfriend, layed on the couch with a finger up holding the bird he claimed to hate it and whistling some similiar tone along with the nightingale's chirping.

You stared in shock yet awe at the look of your boyfriend directed to the bird as the sounds came out of his lips before chuckling.

"Your wing soon will be better by the looks of it. Isn't (Y/n) a great nurse?" He mumbled, a sadness deep down on his gaze as he saw the bird clapping the wing that wasn't wrapped up "You got freedom and my dove's attention bud, how could you and (Y/n) not expect me to get jealous?" He chuckled sadly as you frowned, walking slowly towards him, pretending to not overheard his monologue.

"Hey pretty thing, back already?" His cheeky smile was back as you looked at it in awe before kneeling in front of the couch he was layed on and kissing him deeply, making him close his eyes in bliss and pull you closer with his free hand by the neck.

You broke apart as he panted with a glossy yet pleased look. Ignoring the chirps for a bit, you carresed his golden looks as he closed his eyes with a smile.

"Redeeming yourself for giving attention to this bird and not me for these past few weeks?" He murmured happily yet drowsily as you giggled and kissed his forehead softly.

"You could say that bird brain." You stopped for a bit, hearing him whine miserably for you to get back, cupping your hands for the bird to get in.

"Cmon..." he whined, arm dropped over his face as the other rested on him until he felt you tugging on his shirt.

"Just get up lazy, I'm giving you all the attention you want." At this, you saw his golden eyes practically glow in bliss as he stood up as fast as he could.

.

.

.

He stretched his arms as he sitted up on the bed. Hair untamed and eyes unfocused until they dropped on the bird that had exited his box and was flapping both of his wings. Both.

"Huh. You look all better." He smirked as he felt you shift and rest your chin on his shoulder with a drowsy look.

"Who is better?" You mumbled before he pointed at the bird jumping and trying to take flight.

"Your friend there." You squealead as hs chuckled, grabbing the nightingale in one hands as he unwrapped the the made up sling as he waited patiently for the little fella to flap its wings and fly just a few centimeters above his palm.

"Cmon dove." He ushered you to follow him on the balcony as he had a gentle hold on the nightingale "Go little buddy, being stuck on a unknown place forever isn't goog for anyone."

And with a little movement of his hand, the nightingale took flight with beautiful chirps that made you smile but soon look at your boyfriend with a sad smirk as he watched the little bird fly away.

It wasn't sadness because he got attached to the nightingale. It was because that, even a small bird as he, could be free and not him. A grow up man that had a partner but was still caged by the comission...

You carresed his arm before hugging it and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek which brought his attention back to you.

"How about some hot cocoa my handsome? You still got some minutes stuck with me until you go to work." You said softly in Hope's to cheer him up.

He looked at you in some sorta of shock before chuckling and bringing you close enough to him to hear his heart beat and feel his warm yet chapte lips on your forehead.

"Being stuck with you is the only way that keeps me going to be honest."

[quillquiver]

“Tell me something.”

Cas frowns against Dean’s left pec, eyes looking up at him from where he’s laying his head on Dean’s chest. He feels a hand card through his hair and rub at the base of his skull. He hums into the contact like a cat, closing his eyes in contentment as he feels Dean’s unabashed stare. He rolls off of his chest so they’re nose-to-nose, fingers brushing in the space between them as they lay on their sides.

“About what?” Cas asks.

“Anything,” Dean answers. “Before. When you were an angel.”

An angel. Cas feels his heart seize and his wingless back ache, but forces a playful smile to his lips. “You want to hear about dinosaurs and meteors and great cataclysms,” he teases. “I suppose… the beginning was violent, like breaking a bone again and again until it sets right—”

“No,” Dean cuts him off, fingertips pressed to his mouth. Cas looks at him curiously. “I mean, that’s cool—the beginning,” he says. “And I want to hear about all of that another time, but… you. I—I wanna know about you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Like…” Dean’s fingers move to play with Cas’s own, his cheeks ruddy and red. “Where did you go? What did you see?” He bites his lip, brow furrowed as he forces his gaze up. Cas meets his eyes earnestly. “You pulled me from hell, man, but… I don’t know anything about you before that.”

“And you want to?”

“Well, yeah.” Dean rolls his eyes. “I—wanna know everything.”

His cheeks are so red they’ve droned out his freckles, and Cas can’t stop himself from reaching to run his knuckles over the flushed skin. “I don’t remember a lot of it,” he murmurs. “Some of that is Naomi, I’m sure, but—some is also just being human, I think. I’ve been writing it all down, so I don’t forget.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m older than most types of dirt,” Cas says. “It’s a lot to remember.” He pauses, tracing the line of Dean’s clavicle. “I… wasn’t lying when I said you changed me. And everything that came before, all of it, walking along the primordial beach, pushing mountains from the ground, spending time with all things that swam in the sea and walked upon the earth—it’s like they’re half-memories; empty, but given meaning now that I know to appreciate them. That I know how to put feelings to them.” 

Cas frowns. “Angelic love is—agape. Steadfast. Absolute. Unconditional. But it doesn’t make any allowance for emotion beyond blind devotion. I didn’t love the sunrise because there was nothing to love; that the sun rises is an incontrovertible fact of the universe. The pinks and oranges on the horizon are the result of refracted light, of which I could see all colours named and unnamed. The sun existed, and it rose, and in it was my father, and that was good.”

Cas looks down at his hands. “I think… I think I always had the potential to become—this. To get here.” He shifts, moving to idly play with the hem of the sheet. “You have to understand, Dean: King David, Solomon’s lover, Delilah, Judith, Bathsheba—they are nothing to you. Achilles wished Patroclus was so lovely of face and pure of heart. I remember thinking, strangely, that such radiance was just for the Righteous Man who will bring about Paradise. And yet for all the beauty I’d seen; gods and goddesses, kings and queens and commoners, the loveliness in every far corner of this world, that—you—were the first time I truly felt splendour. I had never seen a soul shine through a face, like that. And we had been taught obedience above all, but God had surely lied, because… because even twisted and conflicted as you were, you radiated love in all the ways I didn’t know I craved to feel. How was I supposed to pledge myself to an absent father when you were right there? When my own doubts were later echoed in your hands and the steady beat of your heart a hundredfold?

“And it was—is—complicated, and confusing, and painful but learning to feel, to disobey, to love; it has been the greatest honour and privilege of my life. And I know you don’t like… grand declarations,” Cas says quietly. He forces his eyes upwards, swallowing thickly when Dean meets them, his own wide and unflinching. “So please believe me when I say that this isn’t, to me. And I know I’ve told you all of this before, but we’re not dying, now, and you need to know how thankful I am to even just know you—”

Dean surges forward to press their mouths together, reaching over to pull Cas closer. He buries a hand in dark hair and uses the other to cup Cas’s stumbled jaw, pulling away to mutter Jesus, Cas before kissing him again. And again. And again. He pulls away and moves back when Cas chases, a crooked, goofy smile tugging at his mouth. Cas feels himself start to grin in response. “What?” he asks.

“You just—” Dean shakes his head. “You say all this epic crap about me like you didn’t change me, too.” He looks down at their joined hands, frowning as he brushes a thumb over Cas’s knuckles. “I didn’t really have any friends before you. Or not like you, at least. Hunting… you kinda gotta keep people at an arm’s length. And you—y’know, you helped me be myself. Made me brave. So, uh. Thanks. I guess.”

“You’re—welcome,” Cas says haltingly. He can’t stop staring, but he thinks maybe that’s okay. That this instance of overwhelming love and appreciation is the only one where unabashed looking is not a social faux pas. Hesitantly, he leans in. Dean meets him halfway.

They kiss for a good long while, until Dean is pressed back into the mattress and Cas is a useless, warm lump on top of him. What they’re doing can definitely be characterized as swapping spit; their every movement lazy and deep, hands wandering, bodies tangled and moving together as if in a prelude to sex despite the fact that neither of them seem particularly inclined to get there.

“Y’know, you never actually answered my question,” Dean breathes into the bolt of Cas’s jaw.

“Question?” Cas asks faintly.

“Mm. About you. When you were an angel.”

“Ah, my wings were iridescent black,” Cas murmurs humming when Dean makes his way back for a real kiss. “I have—um, had an animal head for every vessel I took.” Dean rolls them over. “The T-Rex was not a scavenger, and they had mating plumage.” Presses sucking kisses to his neck. “I was an advisor to Cleopatra. I waited for Emperor Ai as he cut his sleeve. Brachiosaurs used to sing—”

Dean abruptly pulls away. He sits up, straddling Cas’s waist with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Cas’s brow furrows. “Dean?”

“Sorry, you just—”

He moves as if to dismount and Cas tugs him back down, catching his mouth in another kiss. “I’m responsible for the Silfra Fissure in Iceland,” he continues. “Gabriel created the platypus. Moses had a stutter and was a bad public speaker; Aaron did most of the talking for him.”

“Uh—”

“The Roman Empress Elagabalus once invited, um, a gladiator to the palace because he had an exceptionally large penis, and when he couldn’t please her, she banished him. Her male lover, Hierocles, had given the gladiator something so he wouldn’t become erect.”

Dean snorts and Cas pulls away with a concerned frown. “What—?”

“Nothing,” Dean laughs, the thing caught somewhere between disbelief and joy. “Keep going.”

“Um… Copernicus had an aversion to feet?”

“Is that a question?”

“No, he did.”

Dean grins and kisses him again.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Lost and Found.

Pairing → Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Characters → Ciri, Jaskier, Priscilla, Yennefer (mentioned)

Summary → Geralt left with Yennefer for months.

Word Count → 5k

AFG Square Fill → Geralt @anyfandomgoesbingo

Warnings → 18+. Angst, heartache, jealousy, swearing, happy ending

Betas → @wonder-cole // all mistakes are my own.

A/N →  Well this ended up being a longer story than I expected… I’ve only written for Geralt / The Witcher fandom once before and will have used content from the series, the books and the games as I have watched, read and played everything based on our ashen haired babe

The tavern was full of locals that had escaped from the cold night air. Farmworkers caked in mud with a distinct stench of sweat, merchants drowned their sorrows or celebrated their successes. A shadowy corner for the gamblers prayed for their Gwent decks to fare better than their opponents. There were even some families gathered by the large fire with bowls of broth and torn pieces of bread.

You had taken a seat at an empty table, slightly out of sight from the group you were meant to be with. You weren’t ready to be confronted with that situation until you had at least two tankards worth of ale in your system. In all fairness, you had debated about coming here in the first place, but it was Cirilla’s twenty-first birthday, and you would have felt awful if you hadn’t shown your face, even for the briefest of moments to wish her well.

It had absolutely nothing to do with avoiding a certain witcher, nothing at all.

A few years ago, Ciri marched into a small school on the outskirts of Rochdale, a quaint town in Velen, and stated that she wanted to continue her studies. Even if it was only for a few days a month. When her family visited. The matron was sceptical at first, not knowing who this child was or where she had come from but when Ciri produced a large coin purse, there were no qualms of fitting her into the roster of students.

You took Ciri under your wing the moment she’d stepped into your classroom. Ciri’s love for history and mythology strengthened the bond between you. Many evenings were spent talking about the world and all its wonder. And particularly, the monsters that lurked in the darkness.

In the space of a few weeks, you learnt a lot about Ciri and her adoptive parent. She confided in you about her hardships of trying to find Geralt. He was someone that her grandmother had told her to go to when Cintra fell to the Nilfgaardians. Your heart had clenched at the thought of such a sweet young girl wandering this world alone, with no family and in search of someone that she did not truly know existed.

It was one evening when Ciri unravelled the rope attached to her horse outside the school, waiting for Geralt to arrive, that you first met him. While you loaded the saddlebags with books, the sound of hoofs on the cobblestones caught your attention, and a majestic mare appeared from the side of the stone wall with a man astride her. He silently nodded to Ciri, no further expression or acknowledgement was made.

It looked as if there were no more than fifteen years between Geralt and Ciri, and he was not what you had expected. You had envisioned an older man, a farmer or merchant perhaps, with a family of his own. Not this handsome man, in a black cape, luscious white hair that curled over his shoulders.

He had caught you off guard, enamoured as you watched him dismount the horse. Your bodies almost touched in the tight space between you both. You stared at his chest, the wolf head medallion indicating his occupation. A Witcher. He towered over you; amber eyes glared down as you froze to the spot. Your legs felt like lead as you were held in his gaze. He should have frightened you, a slayer of monsters but, regardless of his stoic appearance, his presence provided a sense of calm.

The first grunt that he expelled went unheard, you snapped out of it when he did it a second time and shifted from his path so he could collect the books from Ciri. You could have sworn that, even though he seemed gruff, a small smirk twitched at your flustered state.

“See you next week Miss,” Ciri called after you as you lifted yourself into the saddle and gave her a small wave.

The awkwardness heated your cheeks and your mind spiralled at the way you’d reacted to Geralt. You had never frozen in front of a parent or guardian before. A cough brought you to your senses and a groan rumbled through you unexpectedly as you turned to him, eyes wide with embarrassment and a wish for the ground to swallow you whole.

You waited for Geralt to say something, but no words followed, and he seemed to be in just a flustered state as yourself, but you tried to shake that thought. There was no way a man like him would ever think of a teacher in any way other than a guardian should.

Ciri popped from around Geralt’s horse, a mischievous look on her face, “He’s trying to ask you if you’d like to join us for dinner or would like company back to your lodgings.”

You smiled to yourself at the fond memory, the sound of music and laughter lifted your spirit in the small tavern. Until you glanced to the side; the seat beside you was empty, and its presence was a reminder of what you had lost. 

What had happened between you and Geralt was a friendship that had developed into secret sparks of lust. But your burning flame of love was extinguished the moment you saw him with Yennefer. After two years of tiptoeing around friendship and the late night trysts, you’d lost him to the most beautiful and powerful woman of the continent.

Your heart ached when you caught several glimpses of Geralt throughout the evening; either talking to the innkeeper or with Ciri and Jaskier as they attempted to get him to dance. He hadn’t seen you yet, you were sure of it, and you hadn’t made your presence known to anyone either. As much as you wanted to keep it that way, you would have to see Ciri at some point and that time came sooner than you expected as your eyes met across the tavern and she ran towards you.

In a flash of light, she teleported to your table and wrapped her arms around you. You would never get used to that. You returned the hug, clinging onto her as tightly as you could because it was likely this would be the last time, you would see her.

Nobody knew about your job offer at Oxenfurt Academy, that you were strongly considering the move to Redania, bags packed and ready at the door. It was what you needed, a fresh start. Plus, you knew that the matron was going to start looking at reducing the staff numbers after the drop in births in the town so you might as well get out before you were penniless.

You let Ciri go and caught another arrival to your side; Jaskier. His beaming smile was infectious, and he made you giggle as he dramatically bowed to you. Geralt was behind him, no expression on his face and not that you dared to look at him properly in fear for how much it would hurt you to do so. 

Completely unaware of the awkward tension that was filling the space between you and your former secret lover, Jaskier instantly took a seat opposite you and tipped his tankard upside down, “Oh Geralt, it looks like it’s your round!” 

Geralt grunted and left the three of you on your own. You relaxed ever so slightly as you watched him walk away and turned your attention to the birthday girl, woman.

“Oh, Y/N, it has been a while, three months at least!” Ciri said as she clasped your hands in hers.

“It has indeed, I heard from many merchants about your birthday celebrations, and I had to make sure at once that I was here to join in!” You beamed at her and shuffled along the wooden bench for her to join, “How long are you staying in town for this time?”

“I’m not sure, it depends on Geralt as always.” Ciri shrugged.

Priscilla, a beautiful blonde bard that caught Jaskier’s attention many moons ago in Novigrad, appeared at this side and pulled him away to perform a duet on the makeshift stage. In her excitement, Ciri jumped out and followed them. Even though they didn’t notice you had stayed behind, you didn’t mind and chuckled at their antics as they coaxed the patrons to gather around.

“Guess this is for you then.” Geralt slid into the seat opposite and gestured to the tankard, the foam spilling over the edge as you took it from him.

You were sure he could hear your heart thumping in your chest, choosing to give a small smile and a nod as you sipped the ale. The bittersweet melody filled the room, and it took you back to another time. To one where Geralt held you in his arms and filled you with so much hope for a future together.

It was your first visit to the Skellige Isles, and you loved every second that you spent with Crach an Craite and his clan, celebrating his daughter, Cerys, becoming Queen. You had been surprised when Geralt had asked you to accompany him, thinking that he’d ask Yennefer or Ciri to join him, but you didn’t let the moment pass you by; it was the first time you’d been on a ship and travelled the seas, let alone attended a coronation.

The banquet hall was full to the brim of Jarls and their clans from the many islands that formed Skellige. Enormous amounts of food were laid out on the tables and wine was on a never-ending supply. The revelry continued long into the night, you and Geralt clapping and laughing along to the guests dancing the Cèilidh.

You brought the goblet to your lips, now stained red from the wine, and sipped slowly as you felt the alcohol taking effect. Warmth filled your cheeks and you felt like you were floating with Geralt at your side, his arm securely around your waist.

“Drink up, because we are going up there any minute.” Geralt whispered in your ear.

Once more, Geralt had surprised you, thinking he’d never do such a thing and proving you wrong in an instant. Or, just, maybe, you shouldn’t believe everything that Yennefer tells you. He whisked you up into his arms and you skipped into the throng of bouncing and twirling dancers.

After a few stumbles and the odd miss turn, you found the rhythm and began to enjoy yourself. It was like you were in your own little world with Geralt. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might burst from your chest. Together, you rounded the dance floor, twirling between other people and joining them for the group segments of the dance before returning to Geralt to skip through a human archway.

The music hit its end, you and Geralt both collapsing onto a bench, still giggling through the pain of being out of breath. He leant forward, his hand firmly on the nape of your neck, and pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back with no inhibitions.

Your fingertips skimmed along your bottom lip, the memory of Geralt’s kiss still lingering there. After all this time, the memory had you brimming with hope and desire, or maybe it was the ale that was clouding your judgement. Without a second thought, you turned towards Geralt to find that he was looking straight at you, and he was too slow to hide his staring. You choked out a laugh as his eyes went wide and his cheeks tinged pink. Never in a million years did you think you’d see the witcher blush.

“I’m sorry but your face.” You giggled into your palm, swaying from side to side and clutching your belly. “So-sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” He tried to sound angry, but his smirk betrayed him.

Your fit of laughter tapered off and allowed you to regain your composure. The awkward silence filling the space between you once more as you resigned to not pursuing the conversation. A wave across the room caught your eye, Ciri beckoning you over but as you turned to stand, Geralt placed his hand atop yours on the table.

He hardly touched you, and you were staring at his hand, uncertain as to what he was doing. You lifted your head to find his softened gaze and immediately dropped back into your seat, nodding for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind.

“What were you thinking?” He whispered.

“When?” Your brow furrowed, the weight of Geralt’s hand growing as he relaxed.

“Just now. It looked like you were daydreaming.” He asked.

Your heart raced; you were silly to think he wouldn’t notice. He notices everything, and you couldn’t lie to him, he would catch you out, even if you were good at it. Stalling for time, you picked up your empty tankard and tried to catch the remaining droplets for some courage.

“If you really must know,” You paused, waiting for him to shut the conversation down but he didn’t and you felt the heat rising up your neck, “Erm, well, I was thinking about when we danced at Cerys’ ascension.”

Geralt smiled, a full beaming one, one that was like the moment he pulled away from your kiss all those years ago. It hit you with a force, and you couldn’t hold back all the feelings that you had packed away when he left with Yennefer not even a few months ago.

He didn’t say anything, just smiled and then sipped his ale. You weren’t sure what was happening and why he was looking at you like that. As if he was happy that you still thought of him fondly. Before you could question him, Ciri was at your side and tugging at your arm to join her, exclaiming that there would be dancing. You unfurled her hand from its grip and shook your head.

“I’m sorry Ciri, but I have to go now.” You gave her a sad smile as you stepped out from the table and pressed a light kiss to her cheek, “I hope you enjoy the rest of your celebrations little sparrow.”

Ciri’s face softened at the old nickname, “Thank you, do you need someone to walk you home.”

You chose to ignore the glare that Ciri was giving Geralt as you pulled the cloak around your shoulders. Geralt wouldn’t fall for her tricks but she was stubborn and from the huff and scrape of the chair, you knew she had gotten her way.

“Ready?” Geralt asked and you nodded, following him through the door into the night.

It was freezing, the air bit into the exposed skin of your cheeks and neck. Suddenly Geralt was in front of you, pulling the hood over your head and bringing it tighter around you.

“There’s a storm coming, you don’t want to catch a cold.” He explained.

You were dumbfounded at his care and the way he weaved an arm across your shoulders, guiding you back to your cottage. Unable to do or say anything more than put one foot in front of the other, or thereabouts, in your slightly merry state.

Geralt was warm, and smelt of ale, sandalwood, and leather. You were unable to stop yourself from sinking further into his hold, relishing the moment. Even if it meant that your heart would shatter once you reached your home, and the loss of his warmth would bring tears.

Silence remained between you, yet this time it was comfortable. It was as if this is where you were meant to be; walking side by side in a small town, surrounded by the multitude of stars and nothing but the beating of your hearts.

The cobbled path wound around various shops and cottages, culminating in the town square. It was empty, a distinct comparison to when you visited earlier in the morning to see if the visiting merchants had anything new or different to sell.

“Would you have liked to dance?” Geralt whispered, if the square was alive with the traders and merchants, you wouldn’t have heard him, but it was clear in the open air.

“I’m sorry?” You uncurled from his hold and stood in front of him, looking up at his glowing eyes.

“Back there, did I stop you?” He asked with a neutral expression that you had long ago realised was a mask to hide his true feelings.

“No,” you shook your head and wrapped your arms around yourself, “I did think it was time to leave though.”

“Because you were daydreaming about me?” Geralt asked, a lopsided smile on his lips as you continued down the path.

“Yes, because I was getting caught up in our past.” You ducked away from his sight, “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“I was thinking about the same thing, well more specifically what happened afterwards.” Geralt stopped at the gate to your cottage, “And I think you were too.”

You looked up at him, knowing you couldn’t lie, with a sad smile “You know I was Geralt. Don’t play games with your thinking. Thank you for walking me home.”

Geralt’s words rushed out, “Can I come in?”

Once again, Geralt was full of surprises, he’d never invited himself round and usually, he would just enter without question. Then you thought of how different things were now that you had gone your separate ways. When he chose to be with her.

“What would Yennefer think?” You asked, the jealousy not missing from your tone no matter how hard you tried to be nonchalant.

“Yennefer is not my master.” He grunted, “Why are we even talking about her?”

“Because you left with her. That day.” You bit down on your lip in a hope of tears not making an appearance. “I didn’t realise you had feelings for her until Jaskier mentioned the djinn and the wish you granted.”

“That fuckin’ bard.” He growled, “I do not have feelings for Yennefer, my wish was about you, but it didn’t work. You didn’t want me near you.”

You recoiled at his tone, “excuse me? You’re the one that left in a carriage to god knows where for months without a single word.”

“I left a letter.” Geralt pushed through the cottage door and gestured his hands towards the candles dotted around the cottage, causing a flame to ignite at their wicks.

You followed him into your bedroom and watched as he pulled at the drawer that you’d put aside for him many moons ago, and atop his tunics was a piece of folded paper. You stared at the letter, now in Geralt’s hand. 

It had been too painful to open the drawer, you hadn’t been in it since he left. It had taunted you enough just by being there, a reminder of you welcoming him into your home. Let alone being able to feel the fabric or take in his scent, it would have filled your heart with more pain.

“As it’s still in the drawer, I’m guessing you didn’t find it.” Geralt sighed, placing it down on the furniture and leaning back against, folding his arms. “And that explains why you didn’t turn up the other night.”

“I didn’t, why would I have gone in there?” You whispered as you began preparing the fireplace, anything to keep you busy.

He mumbled, “Because you sleep in my tunics when I’m away.”

“Okay, and what about the other night?” You questioned as the flames caught on the logs, “Where was I supposed to meet you?

At the lack of response, you turned to look at Geralt and he was scowling at something behind you, the trunk at the door and a collection of bags. You watched him taking in the rest of your home. There were no ornaments or trinkets on the walls, no books on the shelves or stacks of parchment dotted around. It was all packed away, ready for you to leave.

“Are you going somewhere?” He asked, the neutral appearance back on his features.

“Yes.” you nodded.

“For how long?” His arms dropped from their hold on his chest.

“For as long as I have a job.” You stated.

“Where?” Geralt was quiet and looking down at the floor.

“Oxenfurt Academy.”

His head snapped up, amber eyes glinting in the dim light of your cottage, “Why are you going to Redania?”

“Because I have nothing else here.” You shrugged as a tear fell from your cheek, you knew that not saying goodbye was hard, but this seemed a lot harder.

“What about Ciri? Or Jaskier? Priscilla?” Geralt asked, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he waited for your answer.

“I’m sure I’ll see them again. Ciri and I will likely cross paths if she pursues her education, and I’m sure she’d track me down the second she finds out about me leaving. I already made a promise to Jaskier that I’d see Priscilla’s shows wherever I am.” Before Geralt interrupted, you sat on the edge of your bed and continued, “He doesn’t know, it was an old promise, and you know what I’m like when it comes to those.”

Geralt silently moved across the room and sat beside you, taking your hand in his, “What about me?” 

You shook your head, “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Geralt looked at you, a softness in his eyes, “So, Oxenfurt Academy?”

You were unable to look at him, ashamed of deciding to leave in haste and without talking to him about it at least once, “Yes, I leave in a couple of weeks.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere.” He promised and before you could counter him, he continued, “I asked you to meet me at the docks because I wanted to give you this.” 

Geralt opened a pouch attached to his hip and pulled out a delicate silver chain. He held it out so you could see the side profile of a wolf’s head with an amber gem for the eye. You weren’t sure what to say as you marvelled at the beautiful gift, lifting your hair away from your neck for Geralt to clip it in place.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You whispered.

Your fingers glided along the chain and you held the wolf away from your chest, twisting it in the glow of the candles. A stray tear fell down your cheek but Geralt caught it with the pad of his thumb. You leant into his warm touch, his calloused palm a welcome feeling that you had long missed. Geralt lifted your face and pressed his forehead to yours before he softly kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, light pecks making way for harder pushes and pulls, swipes of tongue until your arms were wrapped around Geralt’s neck. You adjusted until you were straddling his lap. Geralt pulled at the lacing of your tunic until it loosened around your shoulders and exposed more of your chest. 

He brought his lips to yours again, the kiss was more heated than before. Tongues swiped and teeth nibbled along each other’s lips with him pulling your body into a tight hold, his erection hardening and pushing against your core. 

At the spark of pleasure, you pulled away in shock and lifted your body from him. You held the tunic in place and backed away, sitting further down the bed from him, his head hanging down as you tried to make sense of why you pulled away and were still protecting yourself when it was clear that he wanted you.

“I’m sorry Geralt, I- for the longest time, I thought you were with Yennefer, I-” You sobbed, hand cupping your mouth as you let the emotions flow freely.

You felt the bed dip and you turned to find Geralt laying back against the pillows, an arm open in waiting. You scooted up the bed and curled into his side, sinking into his warmth, and being soothed by the fingertips that swirled up and down your arm in nonsensical patterns.

“As I said before, I will follow you anywhere that you go.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

With the tears no longer falling, you tipped your head up to look at Geralt to find his eyes closed. You rested your head onto his shoulder and began to trace the shape of the medallion on his chest, sleep finally taking you to the world of dreams as raindrops began to patter on the roof.

A new home: it was on a quiet street quite close to Oxenfurt academy, only a twenty-minute stroll until you were in the hustle and bustle of the city. It was a lot busier than you had prepared for, especially compared to your small town of Rochdale. 

Your colleagues had told you that you’d been lucky to find the lodgings in the area and for such a good rental rate too. The ground floor consisted of a kitchen and seating area and the upstairs hosted two bedrooms. It was just the right size for you, but you hadn’t fully unpacked yet. Satchels half-emptied and trunks open but still full to the brim with trinkets and books.

You were settled in the chair by the fireplace, the warm embers glowing as you read the book in your lap. It wasn’t late but your eyes were feeling heavy after the most hectic month of moving to the city and settling into your new role at the academy. 

A knock at the door made you jump; the book fell to the floor with a thud. Tentatively, you approached the entrance to your home and glanced through the frosted pane in the wooden door but could only make out two figures. Ciri and Geralt stood before you, your mouth dropped agape as their arrival was unexpected and you weren’t sure what to say.

“Surprise! I’ve enrolled at Oxenfurt Academy.” Ciri laughed and wrapped her arms around you.

You held her close and rested your chin on her shoulder, looking over at Geralt, shock and happiness coursing through you. In the dim light of the torches that lined the street, his mouth twitched into a smirk. Your heart fluttered and you couldn’t wait to have his arms wrapped around you once more.

“I cannot believe it; I wish you’d let me know beforehand so I could have prepared for your visit.” You beckoned them into the warmth of your new lodgings, picked up the fallen book and attempted to tidy away the pots and pans on the table.

“Oh, come on Y/N, it’s only us, I’ll start making a pot of tea.” Ciri headed over to the stove and filled the kettle.

Geralt entered your home, he filled the space with his height and broad shoulders, the atmosphere was tense, and you weren’t sure what to do. It had been a while since you last spoke to him; the morning after he returned and discovered you were moving away.

“Hello,” you squeaked, unable to keep the excitement from your tone, “erm- how long are you staying? Where are you staying?”

“Ciri mentioned you had spare beds.” Geralt murmured. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yes, of course, right this way.” The steps creaked underfoot as you both ascended the staircase, and your nerves began to bubble as you felt his eyes on your back. You opened the first door to the spare room with two single frames and a small chest of drawers, “sorry it’s not much. My bedroom is just down the hall and there is a bath in there.”

Geralt placed a couple of satchels on the bed and removed his armoured plate. You couldn’t help the way you stared at him in the tunic and the dark hair across the exposed part of his chest. He pulled out a small bag from a satchel pocket and turned back to you with a small smile.

“I-We brought your favourite biscuits from Rochdale.”

The stutter did not go unnoticed, but you did not react to it, instead offered a smile and a whispered thank you as Geralt placed the bag into your outstretched hand. Instantly, you opened it and raised it to your face to inhale the sweet scent of the treat.

“This will go lovely with the tea, we should-.” You gestured back to the stairs and spun on your heel.

“Wait,” Geralt huffed and caught the crook of your arm to turn you to face him, “I should have done something else when you answered the door.”

A frown etched on your features until his hand cupped your cheek and you caught the way his amber eyes glowed as they flicked down to your lips. Your mouth parted and your eyes fluttered closed as you slowly edged towards one another, meeting in the middle in a soft kiss.

Your body tingled in Geralt’s hold, as your lips melted into his chapped ones. Knees grew weak as he invaded all your senses. It was as if he knew and wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you flush to his hard chest.

Both of you pulled away for air, his fiery gaze drank you in and sent a wave of pleasure through your body. He claimed your mouth once more with hunger, your hands carded through his ashen locks, and you tugged him closer still. Geralt lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bedroom.

Too consumed in your reunion and that Geralt had kept his promise to follow you anywhere, neither of you heard the door close behind Ciri’s hasty exit.

The tea and biscuits were long forgotten.

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @wedonttalkaboutitenough​ / @courtneychicken / @persephonesinfernos / @miraclesoflove​ / @lizzarooni​ / @queenoftheunderdark​

[quaranmine]

The Babysitting Game

They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, Grian doesn't have a child but he does have an egg and a village. That’s basically the same thing, right?

Grian acquires an egg. His friends help him.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly fluff! Hermits: Grian, Mumbo, Pearl, and Scar. My first publish fanfic since 2016 and my first hermitcraft fanfic :D ao3 link and some inspirations to be linked in a reblog

Words: 2862

•·················•·················•

"What if I touched it really quick?" Scar asked.

"No, don’t-don’t touch the egg," Grian said seriously. "Look, I even made a sign! It specifically says ‘Do not touch.’" He gestured to the sign in question, but Scar ignored him.

"Can I rub it?" he said. The man leaned over it, studying the object carefully. Grian hadn’t known where to place the egg when he got it, and it was just sitting on an anvil for the time being. He didn’t even have a starter house yet, but clearly he was going to need something soon if he was going to protect the egg from some of the more . . . mischievous residents of their Boatem village.

“No, don’t touch the egg! Scar-” Grian walked closer, hands outstretched, just in time to see Scar reach out with his hand and pat the egg.

Vworp!

The egg disappeared into thin air.

Dragon eggs had a tendency to do that. It was a survival tactic--Grian didn't really know how it worked, but just as endermen could teleport away from danger, so could the egg if it were touched. Now whether or not Scar was dangerous remained up for debate…

Scar giggled. "Oh, where did you go?" he sang, hunting around the area.

Well, he COULD be pretty scary sometimes.

"Scarrrr," Grian whined, helping him look. "I told you not to touch it!"

"It's over here!" Scar shouted, finding the egg at the bottom of a small slope nearby. "Just one more time…." He reached out again.

"No!" Grian said, slapping his hand away. "Look, you've got to pick it up the right way." He demonstrated, carefully lifting the egg and placing it in a pouch slung over his back. He had hurriedly stitched it together not too long ago, worried that transporting the egg normally might break it. “If you do it roughly, you’ll scare it and it’ll teleport away again.”

"I see!" said Scar.

"Now, please, don't touch the egg.”

"Oh," Scar said. He straightened. "You're really serious about this."

Grian glared. "I am."

"I'm sorry, I just thought it was funny!"

Grian sighed. "It's okay, Scar. It's just--this thing is a baby, it needs to be handled gently! You can't just go around scaring it! What if it falls into a hole or something?" he hissed.

"Oh my god," Scar laughed, "you're its mother now!"

"No, no, I'm not!"

"You are!" Scar cried. He suddenly stopped. "Oh no, didn't you kill its mother?"

"Well it doesn't know that!" Grian snapped. "Truthfully I didn't realize there would be an egg! And I couldn't just leave it, you know! Here, look at this." Grian gently withdrew the egg from its pack, and Scar moved closer. He held it up to the sun. "Look at that."

The sun shined dark red through the deep purple shell of the egg, making it glow within. In the middle, the silhouette of a curled up creature was illuminated. Blood vessels radiated outward, and at the bottom there was a blank space that Grian assumed was air. The egg’s shell was too thick for any detail to be made out, but the processes happening within were clear. Grian was enchanted with it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

"Wow," Scar breathed. "There's actually a dragon in there! What're you gonna do with it after it hatches?"

"Well, I haven't exactly thought that far--I just want to worry about keeping it safe first. I mean, what do you even do with this thing?" Grian put the egg back in its satchel, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I suppose you keep it warm and safe but, like, I don't know what else-"

"I could help!" Scar said.

"You were just playing with it!"

"Hey," Scar said defensively, "that was before I knew more about it!"

Grian rolled his eyes.

“What are you guys doing over here?” said Mumbo, wandering over. Grian just knew he’d been up to something, and sure enough, there was a new tree next to his little collection of chests. Grian wasn’t very bothered by it, because he already had a plan to get Mumbo back for it.

“Grian is just showing me his new baby!” Scar teased. “He’s a mom now.”

“I am NOT its mother,” replied Grian tiredly, but he smiled at the sight of the other man.

“A baby?” Mumbo asked, choosing to ignore the rest of Scar’s statement.

“A dragon egg,” Grian answered. “I found it in the End.” He paused for a moment, feeling almost bad. “After I killed the dragon.”

“Grian! You’ve orphaned it!” Mumbo sounded scandalized.

“Why do you all keep bringing that up!?” he defended, glancing between Mumbo and Scar, who both gave him disapproving, albeit playful, looks. “I know you’re Mr. Peace, Love and Plants this time, but we’ve always killed the dragon in every new world!”

“Well, I guess that’s true, but it is a little sad isn’t it? You’re taking care of it but only because you killed its mum.”

“Yeah,” was all Grian said. The dragon always needed to be taken care of in each new world they visited, and while it was always a bit of a shame, he’d never really contemplated it that much. After all, he normally wasn’t the one who fought it--that last time in Evo aside. He didn’t really know what he had gotten into but he felt deeply like he needed to protect this egg. It was like a tug in his chest, drawing him into the egg and telling him not to let go.

“Show him the egg!” Scar said.

“You just want to see it again,” Grian replied, but pulled the egg out of the satchel again anyway for Mumbo to see. The surface of the egg wasn’t smooth, like a chicken’s egg, but bumpy. The purple spots almost seemed to glow, and occasionally little violet particles drifted off of it. Grian felt like he could stare at it in awe all day, and apparently his friends felt the same.

“How’re you going to keep it warm?” asked Mumbo after a moment of admiring it. “That satchel isn’t going to be enough, and to be frank, I don’t see you spending any time sitting on it, even if the mental image is pretty funny.”

Grian rolled his eyes at the comment, but thought about it. How would he incubate it? He may have had wings, but he didn’t know anything about eggs, other than that it was a safe bet to assume it needed to be kept warm. “I'm not sure, actually.”

“Hey, let me design something for you!” Mumbo said excitedly. “I could probably use some redstone and make an incubator of some sort for you.”

Grian smiled. “I’d really appreciate that.”

Asking Mumbo to create a contraption for him--what could go wrong?

•·················•·················•

“I’m not wearing this thing, you know.” Grian said, holding the contraption while Mumbo wheezed with laughter in the background. The design that Mumbo had come up with was essentially a backpack with heating elements strung through it, except for one thing . . .

“You-you wear it in the front,” Mumbo choked out, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“Yes, I see that,” Grian replied, unamused.

“Like a swaddle!”

“Yes, I see that.”

Mumbo laughed harder. Grian had to begrudgingly admit that it was well designed, however. It would fit the egg perfectly, keep it warm, and most important it was mobile to ensure that he could take the egg with him. It was thoughtful, especially since Mumbo knew Grian was quite protective of it.

“I’m not wearing this thing,” Grian repeated. “I’m not going to let you all laugh at me while I walk around the server with an egg swaddled to me!”

“I thought you’d say that,” Mumbo chuckled. “Here, you can switch the straps around and turn it into a backpack.” He unclipped the straps and moved them into the new configuration.

“Thank you, Mumbo,” he said gratefully. “This will certainly do the trick.”

“Glad to hear it mate,” Mumbo replied. “Now, while you’re here, may I ask why there is an incredibly tall tree on top of my camper?”

“Sorry, got to go!” blurted Grian, snatching the backpack from Mumbo’s arms and flying off in a burst of feathers.

“That’s unfair, I don’t even have an elytra yet to go chase him down with,” muttered the man as he watched Grian disappear.

•·················•·················•

Grian sat in the grass in front of his starter home and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was exhausted. Is this how all parents feel? he wondered. Was he just uniquely unqualified to be one? After all, this was only an egg! It hadn’t even hatched yet and he was already tired of keeping up with it.

Carrying it in the backpack was heavy, and Grian tired out quickly. It was hot on his back, and Grian found himself having to take breaks to avoid overheating. It was also cumbersome, and he found it difficult to build with as it shifted his weight. He almost fell off the roof once while building it! Of course, having wings meant that Grian could catch himself easily, but it had still given him quite the scare. Dragon eggs were pretty sturdy, and would teleport themselves out of danger if possible, but he was still so paranoid about breaking it. And now there was the Boatem Hole to worry about--what if it teleported itself into the void? These things kept Grian awake at night.

But if he left it...well, just like Grian had a tendency to lose items in his chest monsters, he also had a tendency to forget where he placed things. He had been forced to go back and rescue the egg from some place he’d left it more than once, which he wasn’t exactly proud of. What sort of parent forgot their child?

. . . He was definitely not admitting to being its parent.

Oh God, what did I get myself into?

“Hey Grian, what’re you up to?” came a voice, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up and saw Pearl standing over him. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her hands were in her hoodie pockets. She took a seat on the ground next to him, and followed his gaze overlooking the Boatem village. “What’s on your mind?”

“This--this egg,” said Grian. It sat next to him in its backpack, still radiating heat. “I don’t know what to do with it. I’m just so tired of carrying it around!”

“I have to admit,” Pearl said, “I didn’t expect you to immediately adopt a baby dragon the very next time I saw you.”

“Yeah, well, it was an accident.” Grian groaned. “I don’t know what to do with it now, let alone when it hatches!”

Pearl thought for a moment. “You know, the rest of us are all here for you. The other hermits would be happy to help out, I’m sure.”

The other hermits . . . well of course they would. If it was one thing they were all good at, it was supporting each other. Scar had already taken a particular interest in the egg, although Grian was still a little suspicious of him scaring it again. Mumbo had specially designed an incubator for it. Pearl was visiting him to check up on him and offer help.

All Grian had to do was convince himself to let it go. To let them help.

“I know that but . . .”

“But what? Have you had any reason to believe they wouldn’t?” Pearl asked.

“Well, no.” He thought for a while. He thought of how his friends would lend materials when needed, or how they’d help replace someone’s armor and items if they were lost. He thought about the days where they all teamed up and chose one hermit to help out, and he thought about all the things they did for the good of the entire community without even being asked.

His desire to protect the egg was strong, and putting it into the hands of another person almost felt like simultaneously a betrayal of the egg itself and the biggest leap of faith he could take. But the hermits were good at leaps of faith, because someone was always there to catch you.

“You think it’d be okay?”

“I know it’ll be okay,” Pearl replied. “I haven’t been here very long but from what I’ve seen, I know they’d all help. They wouldn’t hurt it. They might be a little mischievous sometimes,” she said, glancing at Scar’s house, “but they know how important it is and would be happy to help. They helped you before, didn’t they?”

Pearl was right, of course. Nobody on the server had any desire to hurt the egg. He trusted that. If there was anyone that he could trust, it was them.

But how would he get them all to essentially sign up for babysitting?

An idea struck him, and Grian scrambled to his feet. “Pearl, you’re brilliant. Thank you!”

She blinked, a little startled. “Always happy to help.”

•·················•·················•

Grian stood back, admiring his work. A near perfect duplicate of the egg that was currently sitting in the backpack slung around his shoulder, but at a much larger scale. It was built out of obsidian blocks and crying obsidian for the spots, and if Grian was pretty proud of how it looked.

If Grian knew anything, it was that his friends loved minigames. And Grian was not above gently exploiting that fact to get a little help--just like barge game from the last world, where he managed to get his friends to help mine out the stone from next to his mansion. Just slap the title of “game” on something and you could get a hermit to sign up for anything.

“Now . . . I just have to write the signs on the inside.”

The game Grian had come up with was officially called Tegg--he needed to stay on brand with his tag games in every world--but he’d mentally been calling it “The Babysitting Game” for a while now. Because that’s what it really was--each hermit who signed up would also sign up to watch the egg and keep it safe. He set to work outlining the rules.

RULE ONE: Protect the egg and keep it safe.

RULE TWO: Keep the egg incubated or it’ll die.

RULE THREE: Keep a close eye on the egg.

RULE FOUR: Call Grian if it starts to hatch.

Satisfied, he wrote out the rest of the instructions. Because it was a game, he wanted to make it fun for the hermits too, so he’d decided to make it like a scavenger hunt. People were allowed to take the egg, provided they adhered to the rules, and were encouraged to hide it and keep it safe. Otherwise, someone else who wanted to have it could get it. The safer the egg was, the less likely for someone else to find it. The winner was whoever had the egg the longest when it finally hatched. Grian didn’t know how long that would take, but he didn’t want to miss it either, hence rule four.

Yep, totally outsourcing his babysitting onto his friends.

Grian squinted at his wall of signs, before placing one final sign at the bottom: Grian will track the game and has final say on points and rules!

“That should do it,” he mumbled. He still wanted to keep an eye on the egg, to make sure that he knew who had it and how many people’s hands it had gone through. After all, he was the one ultimately responsible for it.

Grian pulled the egg out of the backpack and carefully placed it on the ground. He’d somehow made a habit of just speaking to it every now and then--he had no idea if the little dragon could hear anything in there, but he liked to think that it could. “Hey there,” he whispered, and stroked the top of the egg. “Some new people are going to start taking you pretty soon, but it’s okay. They’re going to give me some help and make sure you’re safe.”

He paused, taking in the little room he’d made and the wall of signs he’d written with meticulous instructions for the egg’s care. It may have been the first thing he’d built for this egg, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be his last. A baby dragon was a commitment and for the first time Grian really let himself think about what that meant, beyond just an egg that he had to carry around. Would he house it? Train it? Let it stay by his side? Would he love it?

I think I already do, he thought.

He thought of the hermits--their mischievousness, their pranks, their hard work, their friendship, and their goodness at heart. They were his family, now. What was one more addition?

“It’s okay,” he whispered to the egg. “I trust them all with my life, but more importantly, I trust them with yours.”

[bonkie-barnes]

Surgery Shenanigans

wanda maximoff x gn!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: broken bone, surgery

- - -

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get in, get out. Unfortunately, expectations are rarely reality.

You were almost to the exit when your path became blocked by an Hydra agent twice your size. Usually, you would be able to take him down, but the exhaustion of the day was catching up to you.

You are locked in hand to hand combat with the agent for a few minutes, neither of you making progress, when you hear a sickening crunch. It takes a second before your brain catches up with what happens. That’s when the pain hits you.

You’ve broken your arm, and it’s bad.

Before the agent can inflict any more harm against you, he is thrown into the opposite wall by a red force. You turn your head to make out Wanda through your tears. She rushes over to you, letting out a soft gasp at the sight of your arm.

“Wanda, it hurts,” you cry out.

“I know my love. It’ll be okay,” she replies softly.

Slowly, the two of you make your way out of the base towards the awaiting Quinjet. The second after Wanda sits you down on a seat, she instructs Steve to call ahead to the compound to let them know of your situation.

She sits down next to you before taking you in her arms, careful not to jostle your arm. You slowly fall asleep to the whispers of comfort from Wanda and the pleasant thoughts she is projecting your way.

- - -

You wake again when the Quinjet has landed. There is a nurse and a wheelchair waiting for you at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you okay to stand, darling?” Wanda asks you softly.

You nod and grit your teeth. The pain has come in full force now.

Slowly, you make your way off the jet and practically drop yourself into the wheelchair. The journey from the landing pad to the medical wing of the compound barely registers in your head, the pain from your arm too strong. You’re only snapped out of the pain-induced haze with the words “You’ll need surgery” coming from the doctor.

“Wait what,” you exclaim, your anxiety picking up immediately.

“We have to do surgery to place the bones back correctly, Agent,” the doctor supplies calmly.

“I’ll be here as soon as you wake up, love,” Wanda tells you softly.

You look into her eyes for a long minute trying to calm your racing heart. You nod once and with that you’re being wheeled into a surgery room.

- - -

The lights have been dimmed in your post-op room. You are covered from shoulder to toe in warm blankets. There is a scratchy cast on your left arm. You grunt softly, letting the inhabitants of the room know you are awake.

“Hi, my love. How are you feeling?” Wanda asks you softly.

You grunt again before slowly opening your eyes ever so slightly. You’re exhausted and your eyes fall closed almost immediately.

“Would you like some water?” your nurse asks.

You nod slowly. A cup with a bendy straw is brought to your lips and you clumsily take a sip, the water running down your chin slightly. Wanda chuckles and moves to wipe the water away with a napkin.

Slowly, you open your eyes again. At that moment, your doctor passed by your room.

A gasp leaves your lips as you yell, “Hey! I know you!”

The doctor laughs as she looks over your chart on a clipboard. “How are you feeling Y/N?”

“‘M fine,” you slur.

“That’s good to hear. I have to go check on something, but I’ll be back in a minute,” she replies.

You simply nod and demand more water.

The anesthesia has you feeling chatty. Suddenly, you ask the nurse her name.

“It’s Jackie, sweetheart.”

“Nice to meet you, Jackie. Do you like your job?” You ask.

She lets out a laugh. “I love my job.”

“How long have you worked at it?”

“About 15 years now.”

“Woah…,” you mutter.

Wanda moves to give you some more water.

“Hey, you’re really pretty Wanda.”

“Thank you my love,” she giggles.

“What’s your name?” you suddenly ask your nurse again.

“It’s Jackie, sweetheart,” She says after a laugh.

“Oh cool. Do you like your job?”

Everyone in the room chuckles before Jackie replies with the same response as earlier.

At that moment, your doctor had walked back into the room.

“Hey, I know you!” you exclaim excitedly.

“Yes you do! How are we feeling now?” She replies.

“It hurts,” you mutter with a frown.

“Alright, we’ll give you some medicine to make it feel better,” Jackie tells you.

You simply nod before asking Jackie her name for the third time. At her response you get a contemplative look on your tired face.

“Hey Jackie? What’s your favorite Disney movie?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d have to say Beauty and the Beast. It was the last one I watched with my grandchildren.”

Without giving her a chance to ask you about your favorite, you blurt out, “Mine is Tangled. I like the music. How many grandchildren do you have?”

Jackie smiles. “I have three children and six grandchildren.”

“That’s so cool,” you mutter, opening your eyes. You hadn’t realized they had been closed for most of the exchange.

Slowly, your surroundings were becoming more clear to you. The anesthesia was wearing off slowly but surely. Wanda continued to give you water periodically. It dribbles down your chin every time.

You’re contentedly sipping your water when Jackie speaks up next.

“Would you like some stickers? I always have some with me for my grandchildren.”

“Oh my god, yes please,” you practically yell. Wanda laughs and shushes you.

Jackie comes back a few minutes later. “Guess what I found?”

She holds up some stickers for you to see.

“Oh my god, Tangled stickers!” you exclaim. “I’m so happy right now."

The doctor then comes in to tell Wanda that she can take you back to your room now.

“Hey baby. You want to go sleep in your own bed now?” she asks you quietly.

You simply nod. Now that the anesthesia has mostly worn off, you’re feeling very tired.

Wanda helps you sit up as Jackie wheels a wheelchair over to the side of your bed. You slowly stand up and wobble over to the chair. Wanda maintains a strong hold on your uninjured arm while rubbing your back as you waver on your feet.

Once you get situated in the chair, you fully register the heaviness of your eyelids. The trip to yours and Wanda’s room ends quickly in your tired state.

Wanda helps you into the bed before turning away to get you a glass of water. When she returns, you make grabby hands for her.

“‘M cold,” you mumble.

Wanda laughs as she crawls into bed with you. “Alright love. I’m here.”

You hum in content as you wrap your body around hers, being mindful of your cast.

“Go to sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Wanda tells you softly.

You fall asleep to the sound of her heartbeat in her chest and the feeling of her hand in your hair.

- - -

“I said what?!”

Wanda just laughs as she continues telling you what you said while under the influence of the anesthesia.

“Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing,” you groan, as you pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. “The first thing I remember is saying it hurt and the nurse giving me medicine.”

“That’s the first thing you remember?”

“Don’t tell me there’s more,” you grumble. You go to hide your face in your hands when Wanda grabs your uninjured hand in hers.

“Don’t hide, my love. It was cute!” She brings your hand up to her lips, kissing the knuckles softly. “You’re very cute when you’re loopy.”

“I never want to be drugged up again.”

Wanda simply laughs and proceeds to pepper your face in kisses.

If this is what you get for breaking your arm, maybe needing surgery wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

- - -

A/N: hello! i hope you enjoyed! i had surgery last week (not for a broken bone, however) and this is pretty much exactly what i did after i woke up. i thought it would make a funny story. i try to keep it gender neutral, but if i've messed up somewhere, please let me know! feedback is greatly appreciated!

[mianavs]

the assault

In Lima with You part 4

a/n: this marks the beginning of the end for this story. like previous parts in this story and it’s predecessor, there’s some messed up stuff going on in this part.

tw: non-con, dark content, nsfw, violence

wc: 1.7k+

In Lima with You

You had been scrubbing for a good thirty minutes, yet the bright red from the tomato sauce you’d spilled on your living room carpet was still there.

Glaring at you

Mocking you

Wiping off the beads of sweat that trickled down your brow with the back of your hand, you ran the scrubby through the bucket of soapy water that was now a milky salmon color. After wringing the scrubby of the excess liquid, you went back to scrubbing that spot while ignoring the growing ache in your fingers and the knot in your neck.

It’d been a careless mistake, spilling your spaghetti while your mind had been elsewhere—a common occurrence since the night your fragile world fell apart when Dabi walked out on you.

Almost as careless as the mistake of letting your captor into your heart where he left a mark that spread until it encompassed the entire thing.

A mistake you were now paying the price for, on your hands and knees trying to scrub the mark stain away only to realize it had spread in spite of your efforts.

You fell back on your haunches and threw the scrubby into the bucket. It had been five days since you’d last seen Dabi, and you were starting to lose it.

Every time you heard footsteps outside of your front door, you would rush over and swing it open only to face nothing or a bewildered stranger. The room that had once suffocated you with warmth was now frigid and made it difficult for you to fall asleep in. Your mornings started with you waking from a nightmare that almost always involved Dabi’s death. While at the beginning of his absence you could still go about your day cooking, cleaning, or engaging in a hobby, you eventually spiraled into a depression that made it hard for you to even get out of bed.

Not only was Dabi the death-sentenced protagonist of your nightmares but he was also on your mind all day. His face during your last argument was one that had been burned into your memory. You could still see the blank look that flashed in his cerulean eyes, the twitch of his mutilated mouth, and then the shock that seeped from every pore in his body as he staggered away from your enraged form.

You’d been the one wronged that day, yet Dabi was the one that fled, leaving you with an all-consuming guilt. It didn’t make sense but then again neither did the overwhelming pain festering away in your heart the more time passed without seeing him, touching him, loving him.

Love. It was a ridiculous notion when you thought about it.

Dabi had been the monster that kidnapped you. He’d broken you down physically and mentally to mold you into the obedient darling you now were, but even with the plethora of scars all over your body, you couldn’t help but feel empty without him. Even with the door unlocked and nothing chaining you down to your shared condo, you would leave only to roam around the city for a couple of minutes before a panic seized your entire body; It was that suffocating panic that forced you back home to the comfort of your bed that still smelled of Dabi’s musk and smoke.

You loved Dabi.

You needed Dabi.

So as you dumped the soapy water down the kitchen sink and washed out the bucket, you mulled over your options in tracking Dabi down to tell him how you felt. Then just as you were putting the bucket away, the muffled sound of footsteps captured your attention and you dashed to the front door on impulse.

Where a scarred face with a wicked grin should have greeted you, there was only a red winged man with astonished eyes.

“Y/N,” Keigo breathed. “You’re really here.”

You looked behind him, searching for the man you actually wanted to see. When it was clear he wasn’t there, you turned to your former friend.

“Where else would I be?” You asked before stepping aside to let him in.

“I assumed you’d be with the League,” He answered amusedly, walking in while you shut the door behind him. “But I guess this was a no ex-heroes type of mission.”

“Where’s Dabi?” The question burst from your lips before you could think it through.

Keigo’s smile faltered at your desperate inquiry, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Last I heard they were two cities away wreaking havoc in true League fashion.”

You raised an eyebrow at his mocking tone. “Sounds like you don’t approve of the mission.”

Keigo laughed at that and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. “How about we drop the act, Y/N. It’s just you and me. Dabi isn’t here to punish you.”

His eyes traveled to a fading scar on your forearm before returning to your face. “We both know that what they’re doing is wrong.”

A bitter laugh tore from your throat as you approached him. “So the HPSC selling me for some intel is right? Them drugging me and sending me off to an orphanage is right? How about them trying to sabotage my career? Does all of that seem right to you, Keigo?!”

You were now in front of him, and he had the decency to appear sheepish after your rant. He averted his gaze and said nothing while you let out an exasperated sigh and ran your fingers through your hair.

“Don’t give me that right or wrong crap.” You retorted when your anger simmered. “Hero society deemed me a villain before giving me a chance to prove myself. I won’t stand in the League’s way if they want to bring it down.”

Keigo’s hand shot out and wrapped around your elbow, fingers pressing into one of your scars. You tried shaking him off but Keigo didn’t relent.

“What about the thousands of innocent civilian lives that will be ruined because of them? Will you also stand aside when they’re screaming for their lives?”

His golden eyes bore into yours and memories of a certain mission hit you like a ton of bricks. You remembered the room full of children that you’d saved with Keigo, and for the first time in weeks, you hesitated in defending Dabi and the League’s actions.

“We’re targeting the heroes and the HPSC, not civilians.” You reasoned, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

“We’re?” Keigo sneered, backing you against a wall. “Are you serious?”

At his aggressiveness, the alarms in your head went off but indignation muffled them. You jutted out your chin defiantly. “Yeah, I am. As long as Dabi remains in the League, I will too because... I-I love him and tha—”

Keigo smashed his lips against yours and took hold of your hands before pinning them above your head. Unlike the first kiss he stole from you, this one was harsh and meant to punish. He claimed your mouth with his invading tongue while you wrestled against his bruising grip. It wasn’t until you realized he wouldn’t let up that you bit down on his tongue until he hissed in pain and released you with a curse.

With the metallic taste of Keigo’s blood in your mouth, you tried recovering your breath only to hear a harsh thump that was immediately followed by pulsating pain on the side of your head. You doubled over from the sheer force of Keigo’s blow that left you debilitated and vulnerable.

And that was exactly what Keigo wanted.

In your stupor, you were picked up like a ragdoll and thrown onto your bed, landing face down on a pillow. The sudden motion only worsened what you assumed was a concussion. As a sharp ringing assaulted your ears, all you could do was grip the sheets beneath you in a weak attempt to stop the room from turning.

So when rough hands pulled off your shorts and ripped off your flimsy lace panties, you were too busy burrowing your spinning head in a pillow and swallowing bile to put up a fight. The severity of the situation finally registered with you when you felt the bed dip and rough hands lift your waist until you were on your knees.

By the time your body reacted, it was too late. Keigo pressed you into the mattress with your hands pinned behind your back as he settled between your legs and spread them open with his body.

His cockhead prodded at your entrance a couple of times before he forced it into your dry cunt in one harsh thrust. Horrified and unprepared, you screamed into the pillow that still smelled of Dabi while Keigo violently took you from behind like an animal.

Pain was all you knew throughout Keigo’s assault. It pulsated in your head until it felt like your skull was being split in half. It coursed through your arms that were pushed together and pressed into your back. It ripped through your cunt as Keigo’s cock rammed into you without mercy.

Concussed, restrained, and without your quirk and voice, all you could do was lie there and wait for your body to produce the slick you oh-so desperately needed to ease the ache in your cunt.

Without changing the pace of his hips, Keigo leaned over you and grunted into your ear.

“Don’t you get it, Y/N? I’m doing this because I love you and right now you’re sick. That so-called love you feel for that bastard is a disease. You have Stockholm Syndrome and I’m gonna cure you with each load I shoot up your womb.”

He let out a chuckle and licked the shell of your earlobe, causing bile to surge up your throat. Unable to swallow it down any longer, you used all the strength you could muster to jerk your head over the bed’s edge.

As you regurgitated that day’s lunch, Keigo’s thrusts ceased and he released you with a disgusted grunt.

“Rude bitch,” he growled, pulling you by your hair and pressing his torso against your body. “I tell you I love you and that’s how you react?”

Keigo shoved your face into the mattress and you writhed beneath his weight and grip as your lungs were depleted of oxygen. When your limbs went limp against the bed and black specks stained your vision, the last thing you heard was Keigo’s honeyed words delivering your sentence for falling for your captor.

“Guess I’ll have to take you away from him for you to be cured.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 309: Gotta Go My Own Way

Previously on BnHA: Muscular was all “well if it isn’t the protagonist on his solo journey of self-discovery, for some reason I’m unironically glad I get to fight you!” Deku was all “hey Muscular before I finish kicking your ass would you please take a moment to answer these two survey questions? Question one, do you regret being a total piece of shit? And question two, if you could do anything at all in the world other than being a total piece of shit, would you?” Muscular was all, “pfft, no and no.” Deku was all, “thanks buddy, your feedback helps make me a better hero, here’s a coupon for fifteen percent off your next ass-whooping.” Then he whooped his ass.

Today on BnHA: Deku is all “what up All Might can you believe you’ve been here this entire time?” All Might is all “I sure can since that’s literally my catch phrase, anyway how are your magic movie 1 gauntlets holding up?” Deku is all “they’re holding up fine, how are Hawks, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist doing?” Hawks, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist are all “we, your fellow co-conspirators, are also doing fine, thanks for asking!” Flashback!Deku is all “anyway so I secretly have All Might’s quirk and the most dangerous people in the world are after me, so sorry mom but that’s why I’m dropping out of school.” Inko is all “I CAN’T ACCEPT THAT” while totally accepting it. All Might is all “I GUESS WE’LL JUST HAVE TO GO ALONG WITH IT SINCE I DON’T FEEL LIKE TRYING TO STOP HIM.” Hawks, Jeanist, and Endeavor, as previously mentioned, are all “yeah that sounds like a good plan”, and Gran is all “see ya kid, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” So basically everyone in the entire world has suddenly teamed up with Deku to defeat AFO, except for the one person whose entire foreshadowed endgame is “teaming up with Deku to defeat AFO.” O Kacchan where art thou.

dear tumblr image limit: okay look. you don’t like me, and I don’t like you. but just as an experiment, I’m gonna try writing this recap with as few images as possible and we’ll see how it goes

(ETA: spoilers for how it went: it didn’t, lol.)

oh my god WHY ARE WE OPENING WITH MORE KETSUBUTSU ACADEMY KIDS.ffs we’d better at least finally get some Ms. Joke content out of this

(ETA: seriously who do I have to bribe.)

so these two KB kids who no one cares about are watching Deku leap away from the scene after dispatching Muscular. but more importantly wtf is this chapter title omg. “I can’t stay being a child” so that’s how it is huh. we’re gonna have feels and we’re going to like them. well then

oh my god he’s hauling Muscular away dhfksklfkh okay this is gonna have to be our first image because I can’t fucking help myself. look at this

just. Deku is so tiny and he’s carting away this massive unconscious lump of a man like it’s nothing why is this so funny to me. it’s like when people buy furniture, and they don’t want to pay extra for delivery and so they’re like, “I can definitely fit this king-sized mattress in the back of my compact sedan if I fold the fucking seat down, idk.” and they refuse to be talked out of it, and the next thing you know you’re watching them drive home with their open trunk door haphazardly tied down with bungee cords, and somehow it fucking works. because it turns out the compact sedan has super strength

anyway for SOME REASON now Horikoshi is all “have fun with that Deku, meanwhile we now return you to your regularly scheduled SHINDOU CONTENT” whyyyyyy

look at this. we’re really using up a whole fucking entire page on everyone arguing over who gets the honor of carrying Shindou

love how the civilians are all, “shit lol is this actually our fault?? quick, how do we play this off all casual like we were the reasonable parties here all along”

turns out all it took to finally get them to listen was making them watch while a kid got his insides ground into a pulp because of their stupidity!! what a heartwarming conclusion to this little standoff

anyways THANK GOD we’re cutting back to Deku now!! well actually we’re cutting back to Muscular who is being dropped off at the police precinct, good bye and good riddance lol

so Deku’s leaving him there and bounding away and okjdlSKFJLKJDSL OH MY GOD

no fucking way. no fucking way this little jaunt is All Might-sanctioned and approved. are you serious?? then who else is in on this?? what the hell is going on

so All Might is just WAITING FOR HIM IN AN ALLEY FFF WHO ARE YOU, JIM GORDON. or would Alfred be a better analogy here?? but like, Alfred if he ditched the suit for a moto jacket and shades

this new ensemble of All Might’s may or may not severely impact my ability to take this forthcoming conversation seriously; please stand by

also, quite the spectacular landing there, Deku. seriously lol what was that

“HOW ARE YOUR LIMBS” “THANKS TO YOU THEY’RE COMPLETELY FINE” I’M SORRY WHAT

LOL WHAT. “THANKS TO THE POWER OF THESE MAGIC GLOVES” OH I SEE THAT EXPLAINS IT

are these the same gauntlets from the first movie, then? well that’s all well and good, except that now there’s going to be more Deku Discourse than fucking ever lol. so if it’s all the same to you guys, I’m gonna once again go ahead and declare this week’s post a discourse-free zone, at least when it comes to the specific discourse of Deku’s merits as a MC, and the impact that him kicking ass and having working arms has on said merits. this has been something of a low mental energy week for me, so I’d rather reserve the energy I do have for more fun topics, such as All Might’s bitchin’ leather jacket

anyway so All Might’s saying that the gauntlets will help reinforce Deku’s arms, but they can’t withstand OFA at 100%. so basically it’s a support item designed to maintain the status quo lol. we’re basically in the same situation we were before, arm-capability-wise

homg All Might’s getting a call. time to see who else is in on Operation: Deku Alone?? or not so alone for that matter

omg

HI HAWKS, WHERE ARE YOUR WINGS

(ETA: seriously are they really gone for good?? why would he even be back on active duty then?? does he have his own American ex-boyfriend who can hook him up with exclusive support items?? dammit Horikoshi we want answers.)

looks like Jeanist and Endeavor are teaming up as well, just like they said they would. I would gladly follow this trio around all day long tbh

is this the same giant villain from the very first chapter??

looks like it to me, and it would tie in with that callback from the end of chapter 306. we all thought that was Muscular, but maybe it was this guy, and Deku left these three to deal with him while he ran off to take Muscular down

oh my god now Deku is running off again just like that

kids these days

ffffff I have not had nearly enough sleep to follow along with whatever tf Hawks is talking about here sob

like, is he trying to say that All Might is keeping Deku’s whereabouts unknown to anyone except for him?? in order to keep him safe?? but Hawks is pointing out that that’s a bad strategy and probably won’t do shit against AFO and it’s better if he lets Deku work with the rest of them?

(ETA: so @hanashimas​’ translation makes a lot more sense -- it’s not All Might who’s being overprotective, but Deku. in other words he’s trying not to drag All Might into his battles. and in addition Hawks is saying that their strategy is to take the offensive and go after AFO themselves rather than wait for him to come to them. which I’m not too sure about myself, but that’s another topic for another day.)

btw I can’t help thinking how much better this entire conversation would be if All Might was still wearing his sunglasses. put them back on my dude. it’s not too late. embrace your inner badass

DKLJSLDKFJL FLASHBACK ALERT, FUCKING FINALLY

“turns out, we were just trying to scare you straight. fuck lot of good that did though lol”

also what is this. one true love: the hospital bed. is that a scanlator joke or is Horikoshi actually that funny omg

SKLJDFLJLK

ITSA ME!! omg I love this hospital so much. though it’s sure not helping me in my quest to try and keep this post below ten images. I’m already up to eleven haha r.i.p. to me if tumblr doesn’t get its shit together

whaaaaaat, so he’s saying that Deku’s injuries were external (i.e. Tomura beating the shit out of him) rather than internal this time?? whaaaaat. excuse me but that’s some bullshit lmao. believe me, I was there

okay now he’s going on to explain that Deku’s “internal structure” seems to have been protected from the inside and out, and the corresponding panel seems to be implying that using Blackwhip as a brace paid off. huh

and also that his body is just stronger now?? so I guess he’s better able to withstand the quirk after an additional year of training?? I’M NOT SURE IF I BUY ANY OF THIS LOL but I’m willing to suspend my disbelief

OH MY GOD RED ALERT, INKO IS ASKING ALL MIGHT TO EXPLAIN WTAF DEKU’S QUIRK IS, IS IT FINALLY THAT TIME OMGGGG

SO HE’S EXPLAINING IT TO HER OFF-SCREEN, AND INKO IS JUST LIKE

I GUESS THAT’S FAIR LOL. IT’S TRUE INKO I’M SO SORRY, YOUR SON IS A PROGATONIST R.I.P.

AHHKKJH DEKU ANGST IS IT FINALLY THAT TIME OMGGGGGG

what is this soft pop beat that’s suddenly being pumped in over the speakers. I’VE GOT TO MOVE ON~ AND BE WHO~ I~ AM~~~, I JUST DON’T BELONG HERE, I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAND. also, follow-up question, when is Kacchan finally going to come back so he can jump in with the “WHAT ABOUT US~~~” bridge, huh. come the fuck on, Horikoshi

lmao All Might jesus christ

but given that it’s a stupid-ass decision...

anyway, yes!! finally that sweet, sweet “I don’t want to put anyone else in danger” angst!!

mmm that’s good angst Brent. Kacchan with center panel honors as usual, you love to see it. anyways though who do I have to yell at to get Deku a goddamn HUG around here seriously

so Inko is of course reacting with panic, and sensibly saying that she doesn’t approve of Deku’s “RUN AWAY AND FIGHT THE BAD GUYS ALL ON MY OWN, DON’T WORRY MOM I’LL JUST GET STRONGER, EASY AS PIE, IT’S A FOOLPROOF STRATEGY” plan

son of a bitch this manipulative green asshole is really gonna sit here and smile fondly at his mom and try to convince her that he’s Not A Little Kid Anymore. the hell you’re not mister

y'all are really just gonna sit there and let him talk you into this?? surely it can’t be that easy??

OH MY GOD

THE FEELS oh my god oh my god. BUT ALSO YOU’RE SERIOUSLY JUST GOING TO COLLAPSE INTO HIS ARMS SOBBING AND LET HIM DO WHATEVER THE FUCK HE WANTS LKJLJLFK. WHERE ARE ALL THE STRICT PARENTS AT?? AIZAWA, GANG ORCA, MITSUKI, SOMEONE PLEASE COME AND TELL DEKU TO SIT HIS ASS THE FUCK DOWN. NOW LISTEN HERE YOUNG MAN!!

“EVEN IF I TRY TO STOP YOU YOU’LL STILL LEAVE” WELL SURE, IF BY “TRY TO STOP HIM” YOU MEAN POLITELY TRY TO TALK HIM OUT OF IT FOR THREE SECONDS. HE’S SIXTEEN WTF WHEN DID HE BECOME THE BOSS OF YOU ALL. SOMEONE NEEDS TO COME AND TELL HIM HE’S GROUNDED

anyway sob so that’s the story of how Deku talked his parents into letting him drop out of school, and even convinced All Might to be his own personal Guy In The Chair. holy shit. this kid really went and rolled a nat 20 and the rest of them had no choice but to fold without argument

meanwhile here’s a panel of Best Jeanist trying to braid his phone into his hair just cuz

I’m dying to know which part of his language he considers to be crude here. you literally didn’t even use a contraction my guy

so now flashback!Deku is talking to Gran in the dark, and Gran is all “can you believe I’m not fucking dead yet lol that’s too funny. anyway, you sure I can’t interest you in killing Tomura after all?? no?? okay then here’s my cape.” truly a heartwarming scene

I’m kind of torn here tbh. on the one hand, my adhd ass wasn’t all that interested in sitting down and having an extended scene between these two when there’s so much else that I want to get to. but on the other hand, even I can admit that cramming this entire reunion into a single page seems just a BIT rushed. idk. like maybe someone can let Horikoshi know it’s a marathon and not a race. Deku didn’t even get any dialogue here, some of us want to know his thoughts!! but anyway

AND JUST LIKE THAT?!

how did all four of them let him con them into this. I literally just watched it happen and I still can’t figure out how. “I GUESS THIS SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD HIGH SCHOOL DROPOUT IS OUR LEADER NOW” ffflfjf. when Aizawa finds out he’s gonna go apeshit. AND DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON BAKUGOU KATSUKI, WHO I HAVE BEEN ASSURED DOES IN FACT STILL EXIST. WHAT ABOUT USSSSS, WHAT ABOUT EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH. WHAT ABOUT TRUST???! YOU KNOW I NEVER WANTED TO HURT YOUUUUU

btw lol don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying this, and I’m honestly glad Deku’s not alone because that would suck for him! but that said, Hawks and Jeanist have lost any credibility they might have once had as far as being The Responsible Ones, and as for All Might and Endeavor, fucking hell lol. everyone just deposited all of their fucks in a bank somewhere for safekeeping and decided to never look back. godspeed you mad lads

[ymiwritesstuff]

A Helping Wing

Quick Revali scenario, I have had this idea for some time now and I’m finally posting it lol. Anyway enjoy soft, worried Revali!

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Revali x Reader

Summary: A trip to Goron City gets an unexpected turn with an even more unexpected reaction from the Rito Champion.

Notes: Injury

The scorching heat that dominated the air on the way to Death Mountain would have been unbearable if it weren’t for the fireproof elixirs you had made well in advance. Still, the hot air had its effect on you as you found yourself wiping tiny beads of sweat from your forehead every now and then as you walked along the rocky path. You could only imagine how the thickly feathered Rito behind you was most likely suffering from the heat much more than you were.

“Remind me again why are we on this absolutely horrendous trip to Goron City in the first place,” Revali complained behind you, eyebrows frowned in annoyance. A part of you knew that this would happen. Knowing him, just about any small nuisance in his way made his beak spill out words of irritation. All you could do was sigh.

“Daruk got seriously injured and Mipha requested us to bring her some supplies so she could heal him faster,” you explained, though had already done so when you initially started your trip to the city. You threw him a quick glance. “Without these, the process could take days.” You lifted the bag on your shoulder that held the herbs and potions the young Zora had asked for. Revali merely scoffed.

“Well, if this is such an important mission, why are we wasting our time on foot when we have two perfectly operational wings right here?” He motioned to his wings with his eyes. “Surely we would get there faster and be done with this cumbersome task.” You let out a laugh, keeping your eyes forward.

“As if you would let me climb on your precious little back,” you mocked. If there was something you knew about Revali is that he had too much pride in, well, everything, so you knew that what he was implying was practically impossible. Even if he was willing to let go of his ego in this rare, inconvenient situation, there was a problem with his idea. “Besides, the herbs would just fly out and burn if we’re that high up.” You turned around to look at him.

“We’re almost there. Just hang in there a little longer."

Revali clicked his tongue but eventually sighed, accepting your words. Despite his exasperation, you were right. Even with the effects of the elixir, flying high surrounded by the hot air would do damage to the precious contents of your bag, but also to him and you. His feathers would probably catch fire and that was the last thing he wanted. So, he continued to walk behind you, muttering miffed words under his breath.

As you pressed on under the extreme temperature, something quickly caught your eye. You stopped and Revali looked at you, raising his brow in confusion before your voice came through.

“Bokoblins.” You nodded towards the creatures. “Four of them.” They danced around as they usually did without a care in the world. The Rito crossed his wings.

“Nothing you can’t handle,” he stated, his words making you look at him in bewilderment.

“Me? Are you not going to help?” You purposely kept your voice down, as the Bokoblins hadn’t yet detected either of you. Your question was met with a smug smirk that stretched the edges of his beak.

“I am rather exhausted from this awful heat, and I’d rather let you do the honors, seeing as you seem to be quite determined in getting to the city in the first place.” You couldn’t believe his words. Revali was many things, but lazy was something you could have never expected. There was the possibility that he was telling the truth, but the pompous grin on his face made you doubt this. However, he was right in saying that defeating a few Bokoblins was no difficult task.

“Fine,” You spat and tossed the bag of supplies at him before grabbing your bow, a part of you regretting the decision to ask him to come with you in the first place. “I really hate you, you know?” Revali held the bag and took a few steps back, the smirk never fading from his face.

“The feeling is mutual.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned away from him, your eyes gluing themselves on your target. The Bokoblins were in a nice little pile, so taking them out would be easy. However, you could feel Revali’s judging eyes boring into your back, watching your every move. At this point, you thought that he may have abstained from helping you just to see how you would do with the bow and then possibly mock you for an incorrect technique only he could see.  

You shook the thought away. Now was not the time to worry about Revali’s judgment. Your only task was to bring the supplies to Mipha and not pay attention to his foolishness. Still, in the back of your mind, some part of you wanted to impress him for whatever reason, so you attempted to take all of the Bokoblins out at once.

Revali watched as you prepared for your attack, that arrogant smirk still apparent. His eyes watched as you gripped the bow, how you tested the string and how you finally grabbed an arrow from your quiver and-

Suddenly, his expression changed to a panicked one as his widened eyes noticed the grave mistake you had made that took the form of the arrow you had chosen: A bright red, sizzling bomb arrow.

Revali quickly jumped into the air and grabbed the back of your shirt with his talons, pulling you away from the massive explosion caused by the arrow and the surrounding air. Your eyes widened at the blast, and you instinctively shielded yourself with your arms as you were pulled back before feeling your back slam against an armored chest.

The Rito stumbled back and fell to the rocky ground, softening your fall by having you land on his chest. The sound rang in your ears and you squeezed your eyes shut and only opened them once you couldn’t feel the heat of the flames any longer. You blinked and looked at your burned bow that laid on the ground, the Bokoblins fleeing the sight, frightened by the loud noise. It had all happened so fast, you only realized your mistake when Revali opened his beak:

“Are you out of your mind?!” He yelled behind you, voice filled with anger and concern. “You could have gotten both of us killed! How could you possibly think using a bomb arrow at a place like this was a good idea?!” You slowly stood up, still shaken by the accident.

“Are you truly that foolish? That you don’t know that a bomb arrow will explode as soon as it makes contact with the hot air?”

Of course you knew. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t even realized that you had grabbed a bomb arrow and now you were scolded by your stupid mistake. Your eyes found the ground below you, embarrassment settling in your stomach. “I’m sorry... I just... I didn’t even realize,” You said, trying to somehow explain your actions, though you were more taken aback by his reaction. You had never heard him use his voice in such a manner.

A sigh left Revali’s beak as he tried to calm himself down. Truthfully, he didn’t fully know why he reacted in such a fiery manner.

“You’re hurt,” he finally said. You looked up at him and saw his eyes glued to your arm. Then you felt the burning pain on it. A significant piece of fabric from your sleeve was burned, the jagged hole revealing your reddened skin that sent waves of pain and discomfort throughout the rest of your arm. You hissed in pain and grabbed the abused area with your other hand.

You noticed Revali grabbing something from a bag of his own and motioning you to sit on a rock conveniently placed on the side of the road. You took his offer and sat down, fighting back tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. You glanced at Revali, who carried a white, jiggly blob of... something in his wing while walking towards you.

“What is that?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the unknown substance.

“White Chuchu jelly.” Revali kneeled beside you, expression neutral, rid of any signs of arrogance or judgment. “It should help with the burn,” he stated, pressing the jelly on the surface of your arm, the cool temperature of it immediately easing your pain. You let out a shaky breath.

“Why do you even have that?” You were unable to look at him, something inside you making your stomach churn. You felt his wings wrapping a bandage around your arm, the jelly staying on your skin.

“Well, I would have used it to cool myself off, but it appears that you need it more than I do after that ridiculous stunt you pulled.” You clicked your tongue in annoyance.

“I said I didn’t realize what I was doing I just-”

“Didn’t pay attention,” he interrupted. You were about to argue but after realizing that he was correct, you let out a heavy sigh instead. Revali finished wrapping your wound and stood up, briefly glancing at your destroyed bow.

“What a waste,” he sighed, walking back to the bags, relieved to see the supplies still intact. You stood up, looking at your bandaged arm and then at him. Despite his somewhat rude and cocky exterior, he apparently cared about you enough to at least tend to your wound when he technically didn’t need to. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, Revali.”

The Rito briefly stopped what he was doing, likely processing your words. You couldn’t see his face, so his expression was left a mystery. He on the other hand was grateful you didn’t witness the feathers on his face puff up ever so slightly. The accident startled him more than he would have liked to admit and was grateful that he was able to pull you out in time.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he finally said, regaining his usual attitude. He stood up and picked both bags up from the ground.

“We haven’t reached our destination yet and I clearly misjudged your abilities, who knows what ridiculous mistake you might make next.” For the first time, you let out a tiny laugh at his words, following him as he began walking.

“Well, I guess asking for your assistance in this little task of mine wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.”

Revali chuckled and shook his head at your words, his usual arrogance embedded in his response:

“Oh, (Name).” His glimmering eyes glanced at you, smirk once again decorating his features.  

“What would you do without me?”

[adhduck]

Oh Well, I Guess We’re Gonna Pretend

AO3

(Major spoilers for rqg 207)

Wilde is at a party with all his loved ones, and everything in his life is finally falling into place.

He’s also unconscious on the floor of the world’s last safehouse, and something is coming for him.

--

“Come on, Oscar, dance with us.”

Wilde blinks, realizes Hamid is standing in front of him with his hand outstretched; probably a symbolic gesture, considering he’d be hard-pressed to pull someone double his height.

Smiling, Wilde sets his half-empty champagne flute on the table. “Of course. Care to join, Zolf?”

Zolf, who’s slouching in the next seat with his long, worn coat tucked around him in a fabulous display of I am not a party person, scoffs fondly. “Absolutely not. ‘Sides, it’s yer party, Wilde, not mine.”

“It’s our party,” Wilde says with mock offense, putting a hand on his chest. “Didn’t you hear my toast?”

“Half of it, maybe.”

Wilde rolls his eyes, but relents and squeezes Zolf’s shoulder; presses down a smile when Zolf catches his hand for a second and pats it. “I’ll get you to have fun one day, Zolf, mark my words.” He’s rewarded with a gruff little mumble, and then Hamid tugs on his coattail to pull him away.

[Cel is still reeling from the shock of electricity when they see it. It’s large, with a body that could be humanoid if not for the oversized head, how its body seems not to take up space but distort it. If not for the six-foot swords it has instead of arms.

Instinct kicking in, Cel pulls two bombs from their pockets and throws them in rapid succession. Even with their hands trembling a little – they always do, the first few moments of combat – Cel know each one is perfectly weighted and near perfectly aimed.

The creature doesn’t even flinch.

It only takes a moment to process what that means – limited bombs, a 5% chance of hitting at best, almost a third of their own health taken in one hit – before Cel abandons the idea of attacking and reaches instead for Hamid. He’s desperately light, clothes singed and hissing; as Cel pulls him to their chest, he curls instinctively into the touch.

“Hang on, little buddy,” they whisper, trying fiercely to sound sure. “You just keep dreaming for now; I’ll keep you safe.”

They just need to get him through the door.]

There are a few people dancing, but the clear stars are Azu and Kiko—partly due to Azu’s shimmering, lightly glowing pink gown, but mostly because of the dance itself. It’s a bright, lively partner dance Wilde hasn’t seen before, where they pull in and out of each other’s embrace with twirls and dips and lots of laughter. It looks equally exhausting and exhilarating.

Azu notices him mid-spin and brightens immediately, waving him over. “Kiko, you mind if I show Wilde the ropes?”

Kiko grins and gracefully steps back, half-bowing in the process. “Yeah, sure. Long as I can watch.”

So Azu works Wilde through the steps, out of sync with the music at first to get them right, then faster as he gains confidence, and soon they, too, are spinning and laughing. “You,” Wilde says when they pause to catch their breath, adjusting the frill around his neck, “are an excellent dance partner, Azu.”

Azu preens a little. “Oh, thank you! Though I doubt I’ve got much competition, knowing Zolf.”

Chuckling, Wilde glances at the man in question to find him looking back, chin in hand and a fond smile tugging at his mouth—for a moment, at least, before he darts his eyes away with flushing cheeks. Wilde’s heart sings.

[Azu looks sharply between her friends – half of them unconscious, all of them wounded – and the advancing creature. It seems completely unconcerned by the weapons being pulled as it wades into the fray, dodging a heavy swing from Zolf without even acknowledging him. The swords protruding from its shoulders are almost as long as she is tall.

We can’t win this, Azu realizes. Not while it’s this strong. Pressing a hand to her chest, where her pendant rests safely beneath the armor, she calls to her goddess with words of love and protection and rage. The divine energy builds in her chest, bringing the dull glow of her armor to a bright shine; she throws her hand outwards, flinging the energy with it in all directions, and there—at last, the creature hesitates. It stops as suddenly as if caught in a rockslide, making a noise halfway between a groan of pain and the grinding of stuck gears, and Azu starts to feel hopeful.

Then, it raises its blade.]

Azu catches the movement and smiles conspiratorially. “You know, there are gardens out back that are much quieter than in here.”

”Ah, but you forget,” Wilde replies, putting on his best performer voice. “That just guarantees Sasha will be there, hidden amongst the foliage, waiting to strike.”

Giggling a little, Azu says, “The worst you’ll get from her is some rumors about you and Zolf that are actually true.”

Wilde gasps in (mostly) faux horror. “Don’t even say that.”

Azu laughs for real now, a full and surprised thing, and pushes his shoulder lightly. “Go spend time with him, the party will survive without you a while.” Wilde pouts a little at that, and she tips her head toward Hamid; he’s dancing with complete abandon a few feet away, wings half-unfurled and arms raised high in the air as he spins. Already, a few people have been pulled into his orbit, letting their awkward shuffling loosen into something more inelegant, more natural. “We’ve got it covered. Now go, before you start having deadlines again.”

“To be fair, we have an entire holiday between now and then,” Wilde argues—a bit superfluously, considering he’s already moving away.

Zolf greets Wilde’s approach by sitting up in his chair, eyebrows furrowed and hands raised defensively. “If you try to get me to dance, Wilde, I swear to gods—”

“Already learned my lesson with that one, darling.” Zolf’s ears go a little pink, and Wilde is powerless against the urge to lean into it. “Of course, there are plenty of dances we haven’t tried together—”

“Oh, sod off,” Zolf says, kicking Wilde lightly in the shin; his ears are red, though, so he’s already lost the fight.

[Augusta makes no noise as she’s stabbed through the heart; dead before the pain had a chance to wake her. It’s a mercy, perhaps, but one Cel refuses to let happen to anyone else.

The creature shifts, pulling back its bloodied weapon with Hamid as the clear target, and Cel lunges towards the door, clutching Hamid fiercely against them—and is stopped cold as the creature pierces right through Hamid’s chest.

Like Augusta, Hamid doesn’t cry out when he’s stabbed. He doesn’t move, either; not even when the blade is yanked back out with just force it nearly tugs him from Cel’s arms. Panting, they gather him back against their chest, whatever miniscule safety that might entail, and feel for a pulse. It’s there, thank gods, but only just. He might only have seconds left, and there’s nothing they can do.

At the corner of Hamid’s mouth, Cel can see a smile – the kind he might give during the opening toast of a party, now just the shadow of some wonderful dream – and they do not cry, because what fucking good would that do?]

Just to seal the deal, Wilde drops to his knees in front of Zolf’s chair, bringing them almost eye to eye, and flashes his shiniest grin as he teases, “Don’t worry, I know you love it.” He allows a few seconds for Zolf to huff and pointedly not answer, feeling his chest radiate with warmth, then adds, “Anyway, want to get out of here?”

Zolf’s eyebrows raise, then quickly furrow. “What’re you- that was an awful transition line, ya know. Unless you’re tryna seduce me or somethin’, in which case, why.”

“I’m always trying to seduce you, Zolf, it just never works,” Wilde replies easily. “That’s why I enjoy it so much. And anyway, that’s not what I was asking about. There’s apparently a garden out back, and I thought you might want to take a walk with me.”

“Ain’t you got allergies?”

“It’ll be quiet out there. Poetic.”

Zolf considers for a second, looking Wilde over with a slowly forming smile he’s definitely not conscious of, and for a moment there’s nothing else Wilde wants more than this: kneeling in front of the man he loves, basking in his quiet attention, knowing there’s exciting work ahead and time enough to rest before it comes.

[Zolf spins around, ready to level another attack – he hasn’t hit the thing yet, but maybe if he aims a little lower, forces it to turn for him instead – when he sees the blade sliding out of Hamid’s chest. No. Absolutely not. Without checking it’s clear, he rushes forward, dropping the glaive to his side and redirecting that power into the tips of his fingers. He licks his thumb, presses it firmly to Hamid’s forehead, and, with a low note of please humming in the back of his chest, mutters words of hope and determination into the staticky air.

The wound heals almost immediately, closing like a budding flower in reverse to leave a raised, slightly jagged line of scar tissue; the only proof of how close Hamid was to death. His wings flutter, trying to unfurl in the confines of Cel’s arms, and for a moment, he stirs. Zolf and Cel both breathe out in relief, but by the time he opens his eyes, the poison overcomes him again, and he curls back into Cel’s chest with a contented sound, asleep and completely unaware of the danger around him.

Not exactly what I had in mind, Zolf thinks, but there’s no sharpness to it. The poison in the air was strong enough to knock out people twice Hamid’s size, so he can’t imagine how strong it must be on him. And besides: this might not be a fight where all of them – any of them – get out alive. Can he really blame Hamid for wanting to dream instead?]

“All right, Wilde,” Zolf says at last. “Let’s go for a walk.”

The gardens aren’t particularly large, but they use the space well—bright flowers lining the walkway, bushes and trees bunched together to create the illusion of depth and privacy. Beneath the largest tree, there’s a clear spot where the light filters through like sparkles and the roots breach the soil in just the right way to make a sort of alcove.

It’s exactly the sort of place Wilde would’ve yearned to write poetry in as a teenager, so of course he tugs Zolf over to sit down.

“Thought this was a walk,” Zolf says, eyebrows raised, but makes no argument when Wilde lays down with his head in Zolf’s  lap. His fingers quickly find their way into Wilde’s hair, untangling it little by little, and Wilde can’t stop himself from pushing into the touch with a little hum. Thankfully, Zolf just chuckles, scratching lightly at Wilde’s scalp for a moment before continuing.

There’s silence for a few moments, and Wilde idly searches for a pun he can use to fill it; it’s difficult to focus, though, when Zolf is gathering his hair into sections for a braid, those careful fingers brushing occasionally against his temple, his neck, his jaw.

Finally, what Wilde settles for is: “I hope we’re actually allowed out here. I’d hate to go home early because Grizzop took a swing at me again.”

Zolf snorts. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve always wished I had seen that in person.”

“Some partner you are,” Wilde grumbles, trying not to melt when Zolf tucks a few shorter strands of hair behind his ear. “S’posed to defend me, not join the enemy.”

[Zolf does a rapid once-over of Cel to make sure they’re not injured as well. They’re panting and wide-eyed and definitely only not in shock because there’s not time for it, but seem physically all right, which is about as much as he can hope for right now.

He glances to the door of the lab, where Ada and Skraak also seem to be managing okay—and, importantly, where there’s clean air and a door between them and the monster. Grabbing Cel’s arm, Zolf injects as much authority in his voice as he can and orders, “Get in there, close the door, be safe.”

Without waiting for a reply, he sets his glaive on fire and turns back to the fight. They might not all make it out of here – always a risk, in this line of work – but he’ll still do his damndest to make sure at least some of them do.]

There’s no response, save for a suppressed smile and the continuous back-and-forth motion of Zolf’s steady hands. Wilde basks in it for a moment, getting to lay quietly in the grass without even his allergies interrupting them. It brings to mind when he was a child, rolling down muddy hills with his sister and seeing how long the world tiled after they reached the bottom, dazed and laughing.

“She would have loved this party,” he says, brushing a hand through the barely damp grass at his hip. “Isola, I mean.”

“You could’ve brought her, you know,” Zolf replies. “I could’ve- I dunno, watched her, or somethin’. Not like I was doing much anyway.”

Wilde laughs. “She would be terrified of you.”

[Moving has already proven dangerous, so Cel shifts Hamid in their arms and throws him through the door; once he’s safely inside, they swallow their alchemical allocation and pull a previously untouched potion from their jacket. Dragon’s breath—the one they’d been so excited to get after seeing a glimpse of Hamid’s power; the one they’d chattered back and forth about days or maybe months ago, excited to see when Cel might try it out.

“Not leaving you,” Cel says firmly to Zolf’s back, and chugs the potion. Lightning crackles in their body once again, except this time, it feels powerful instead of painful. This time, Cel is going to be helpful instead of helpless. Whatever it takes.]

Zolf snorts. “Oh, so that’s why I haven’t met her yet.”

“Yes, I’m just absolutely terrified you’ll smite her with all your holy rage,” Wilde deadpans, twisting obediently when Zolf taps the side of his head. “Or gods forbid, convert her to hope.”

“Oi,” Zolf says, tugging lightly on Wilde’s hair. “That hope has saved your arse twenty times by now.”

[Azu catches sight of Hamid breathing and nearly crumples with relief. He’s not dead, she didn’t kill him, she might not have to lose someone else—but there’s not time for that, not yet. They have to destroy this thing first, before it hurts anyone else.

She swings her axe as hard as she can, a scream building in her throat as it moans through the air, and – miraculously – it connects. There’s a satisfying thunk, a sharp note of pain; but as she goes to hit it again, it seems not just to dodge, but actively unform and reform around her axe. Learning. Adapting.

In the second it takes for Azu to regain her footing, the monster sinks one of its blades into Sumutnyerl’s chest. The air seems to freeze for a moment, but the strike is lower than it intended, in the stomach rather than the heart, so maybe it isn’t fatal, but Azu doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.]

Humming noncommittally, Wilde turns his head to look at Zolf, and when he sees the concentration in Zolf’s summer sky eyes, he’s pierced all over again with the force of how much he loves this man—and how much he, in return, is loved. Gods, Zolf is smiling the way he only ever does for a Campbell, and he’s braiding Wilde’s hair as if it’s the most important work his hands have been tasked with, and he looks so utterly, brilliantly happy that Wilde can hardly stand it.

“You alive in there?” Zolf says, tapping him lightly on the cheek.

[There is only one person left unharmed, the horror of the situation made almost a farce by Wilde’s oversized neck ruff and glittering cape. Almost, but not quite, because when the creature turns – body shifting in and out of focus, sword-like arms dripping with the blood of every other being in this corridor – it turns for him.]

Wilde smiles, catching Zolf’s hand before he can pull away. “Yeah,” he murmurs, stupidly fond with it, and rests his lips against Zolf’s knuckles. Zolf’s breath hitches, staring with undisguised awe and quickly reddening cheeks, and Wilde can’t even look at him, he’s so happy. He ducks his head, pushing it against their joined hands; feels Zolf’s warm callouses all the way into his bones. “Thanks to you.”

[There is only one person left.]

“Wilde,” Zolf breathes; a prayer, a promise. Lips press clumsily to his hair, brush his temple as they soak in each other’s presence. “You saved me, too, ya know. So- so many times. I need you, yeah? And I- it- gods, I’m horrible at this, but I just, you’re

[Zolf sees it, this time, when Wilde dies. Sees the sword pierce his chest – right in the heart, a perfect shot – and yank back out with almost careless indifference before the creature turns and does the same thing to Sumutnyerl.

Even dead, Wilde manages to look artistic. His ridiculous cape is flung out beneath him, one arm draped above his head, the barest trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d been this way after the crash, too, impaled almost a foot off the ground with his limbs dangling and chin flung up to the sky; the perfect semblance of a martyr being raised into heaven. Had he been unconscious then, too? Zolf thinks. Or did he feel the spike go all the way through his chest before he succumbed from the pain?

Doesn’t matter. Zolf had time to mourn when he saved Wilde then; he doesn’t have time now.

Skraak and Ada both attack, but Zolf doesn’t know if the hits land, refuses to process anything that isn’t Wilde and the mere seconds left before he’s gone for good. He throws himself forward, landing hard on his knees beside Wilde’s head, and starts to pray. The magic builds like strong drink in his throat, and he clumsily wipes the blood from Wilde’s mouth as the spell reaches its peak—and is nearly knocked over as the monster deals a crushing blow to his temple.

His vision goes briefly white, blood already dripping down his cheek and jaw, and the magic begins to fizzle away, but he refuses, he refuses. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Zolf presses a hand firmly to the desecration of Wilde’s chest, cradles his cheek with the other. He’s still warm with hope, and Zolf channels that into his prayer, pressing their foreheads together in a way that might’ve been painful, had Wilde been awake to feel it.

Please, he begs the power inside him; begs anyone who’ll listen. Please. Let this be enough to bring him back to me.

The magic bubbles inside Zolf once more, sparkling and bright and warm, and there’s no way to know, really, if it’s enough. It doesn’t matter, of course, because he doesn’t need to know. Because when he presses his mouth to Wilde’s, stroking his cheek and breathing every last ounce of that vital energy into his body, Zolf has hope.

And there, where Zolf’s fingers curl tenderly against Wilde’s neck, new and weak but steady all the same—a pulse.]

 The first thing Wilde registers is breath on his face, warmth in his throat—then pain, all over his body but especially in his chest, gods, what happened? He opens his eyes, hoping to regain his bearings; Zolf is there, face mere inches away from his own, which is a nice start.

Realizing he’s awake, Zolf pulls away, fingertips brushing against Wilde’s cheek as he goes. His other hand is pressed firmly to Wilde’s chest, and there’s blood running freely from a wound at his temple. He looks about to cry.

If Wilde didn’t feel unmoored before, he certainly does now. “Zolf- wh- what-”

In lieu of an answer, Zolf pulls Wilde to his feet. There are flashes of movement to the side, none of which Wilde is capable of processing yet; Zolf grabs his arm, which is easier. He looks resolved, in that urgent way he used to get just before leaving on solo missions; Wilde has just enough time to be scared about that before Zolf pulls him close and says, “Get the others out and be safe.”

Wilde opens his mouth in question, but Zolf’s already shoving him away. He stumbles backwards a few steps, more out of shock than actual force, before losing his balance and landing hard on his elbows just inside the lab. His neck snaps back a little, making his vision swim, but he blinks hard to clear it and now, now, he sees it all. The creature. The dead. The ones left standing.

For just a moment, Wilde catches sight of Zolf’s face before he turns away. His eyes nearly glow, lips parted around gritted teeth, and there is rage in his features like Wilde has never seen before. Then he raises his burning glaive, this idiotic man that Wilde loves so unbearably much, and growls, “Right. It’s yer turn now.”