#he did a ton of small things no one else thought of it matters he cares so much didjdkdksjfjj

[luna-lovegreat]

I want. Four to get appreciation. Because

Four gave a ton of unnoticed help when Twilight was injured

The fight with Wild was difficult, and I know we're all concerned about his negative view of the shadow crystal

But Four did something that no one else really thought of to help- He took care of Twi's stuff

From the beginning he told Twilight to not worry about them

So Four took care of pretty much everything but the others (that Sky and Wars handled)

He took care of Epona

Which is so very important- he took care of Twilight's horse. After her arrival at the stable Four followed up on her

And for Epona, a horse so attached to her human, having some company can help so much for reassurance

He took care of Twilight's stuff

He got Twi's shield- his bags and equipment, and organized it into one place

And he was worried. He obviously found the shadow crystal while handling Twi's stuff, but his negative reactions to it were out of concern.

Also- because of his placement in this scene

I'm fairly convinced Four was ready to start cooking before Wild showed up (since he's beside the counter with food supplies). At the very least he had the basket of fruit out for everyone -but he was literally standing with food behind him- he thought of everything

And he did housekeeping!

Wars payed for the inn, so Four took care of the inn

Realistically these boys were probably not too concerned with tidyness. Four got all of Twi's things on one table, and took care of the room they stayed in

Organizing tables and Twi's things, having food supplies ready, and opening the curtains- overall he was the one tidying up the inn

Four helped in a huge way! He took care of Twi's horse (Epona is so important), his equipment and shield and bag, as well as the other rooms in the inn

Four filled in all the little tasks that others didn't think of. He helped in ways that were needed, but not obvious

There's a lot of problems with the shadow crystal and with Wild, and I don't know what's gonna happen in the future

But don't forget this- don't forget that Four was one who stepped up in an almost unnoticeable way

Don't forget that when everyone was barely holding it together, Four visited Twilight's horse and took care of his things

No matter what develops in the future- this amount of care shown is important ya know?

.

Art and comic from Jojo @linkeduniverse au :)))

[cuubism]

physical therapy part 4

--

It takes some time, but finally, Dream's hand starts to feel better when he's painting. Granted, his grip strength still needs some work, and he's had to adjust the way he holds a brush to accommodate the lingering stiffness he gets in some of his fingers, but he's finding it hard to care when a few months ago he couldn't draw a straight line without it turning into a scribble. He'd known Hob was good at his job, but it still feels like a miracle.

The only downside is that once he makes enough progress Hob will surely decide to end their sessions. And while he had said that he liked Dream, that he cared about Dream... Dream is finding it hard to feel assured of those feelings. Someone's feelings can change on a dime, and it's impossible to predict.

But finally the day does come when Hob deems him progressed enough to simply continue his exercises at home. "At this point I think you've regained enough mobility that it's just a matter of gradually increasing how much you're using your hand," he says. "You've made a ton of progress."

"Have I?" Dream is less sure. Some things are certainly easier now, like doing tasks around the house, and picking things up. Art is another matter. Though perhaps he is simply making excuses because he doesn't want to stop seeing Hob.

"Yeah, look." Hob pulls out a folder from amongst his files, and shows Dream several sketches--the ones Dream's made in session, which he's apparently kept. Dream picks up the oldest sketch, the cats he'd doodled at his first appointment. They're shaky and uneven, like something he might have drawn when he was barely four. He supposes he can't deny the progress since then. He's torn between wanting to tear the drawing up, for it's too wretched a reminder--and wanting to hold it close to his chest.

"It's not that I think there's no more room for improvement, or anything," Hob says. "I just don't think continuing these frequent sessions is going to offer more than a marginal benefit."

Dream thinks that the benefit he is receiving at this point is more in being able to look forward to seeing Hob each week, than the physical therapy itself. He needs something to look forward to. He's put Hob's objectively terrible finger painting on his fridge. It's still the only spot of color in his empty flat. He needs that.

"So," Hob continues, "I thought I'd take you out to celebrate."

That pulls Dream from his head. "You... will?"

Hob winks at him. "Promised you, didn't I?"

Yes. Dream supposes he had promised that if Dream's feelings held true Hob would act on them. Is that what he's doing? Dream's growing disappointment swiftly morphs into something else. Hope.

"I--" he swallows hard. "I. Would like that." It's still strange, to have something he wants. And to feel like it may be okay to express it.

"Perfect." Hob grins, gets up, holds out a hand.

"Now?"

"You got somewhere else to be?"

Dream never has anywhere else to be, and doubts he would go there if he did. He takes Hob's hand.

Hob takes him to a Chinese restaurant nearby, and Dream looks at him suspiciously as Hob passes him a pair of chopsticks with a cheeky grin. "Now you are just testing me."

"Yup. 'Course if you can't use chopsticks in the first place then it's moot."

Dream can use chopsticks. Could. No, can. Death would say that he should think positively.

So he takes the chopsticks.

Once their food comes, Hob, the absolute bastard, puts down his own chopsticks and picks up a fork instead. And Dream knows, somehow he just knows, that it's not because he can't use them. He's teasing Dream. Or perhaps ensuring that Dream won't compare himself if he struggles. Or both.

He should feel hurt by the teasing but... somehow he's not.

"See?" Hob says when Dream manages to eat his noodles with the chopsticks. It's... not that hard. It doesn't even hurt. Maybe Hob is better at his job than Dream even thought.

It makes him tear up. Such a silly, small thing to start crying over when he's barely cried at all, even when he'd first hurt his hand.

"Hey, it's okay," Hob soothes him, wiping away Dream's tears with his thumb. "I think the noodles are salty enough without the addition of tears, hm?"

Dream laughs, wiping at his eyes when the tears keep falling. "Good tears," he manages to say.

"I know," Hob says, and smiles at him.

Dream surprises himself by having an actually nice time. He hasn't had a nice time doing something in so long. It feels good. He doesn't want it to end.

Of course, it does end, and he finds himself lingering outside the restaurant, hesitant to go home. Particularly as he no longer has a set time when he will see Hob. He feels aimless without that, but. It is hard to ask.

"Dream..." Hob starts, likewise lingering in front of the restaurant. The lights of the signage above cast his face in shades of violet. Dream has thought him handsome before, but never so much as now.

Hob hesitates over what to say, then finally just steps over to him. "Come here."

And before Dream can decide how to react, Hob folds him into a hug.

Dream goes still on instinct. Then, gradually, relaxes into Hob's strong hold. He... can't remember the last time someone hugged him.

He lets himself tuck his face into Hob's shoulder.

"Hey," Hob says. His voice is so close to Dream's ear now. "I'm proud of you."

Dream hears himself make a tiny whimpering sound. He. He does not know how to be proud of himself. He thinks he would only be proud of himself if he could go back in time and stop himself from getting in that terrible relationship to begin with. But he does like how it sounds when Hob says it.

Hob gives him one more squeeze, then, disappointingly, releases him. "I almost forgot. I have something for you."

He digs around in his bag and comes back with a box that looks rather like art supplies of some kind. "It's modelling clay," he explains. "So you can play around and work on your hand without just doing, you know, boring exercises all the time."

Hob is too considerate of him, truly. Dream holds the box close.

"You okay to get home?" Hob asks, and Dream nods. His ex has not bothered him again, and Dream is now hopeful that he won't. Though that does not necessarily mean he doesn't want Hob to follow him home.

"Good," Hob says. Then, while Dream is still thinking about the hug and the clay and everything else, Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. "Goodnight, Dream."

Dream stands paralyzed until Hob is gone, and it's only then that he realizes he failed to set another time for them to meet. He supposes he does have Hob's office contact info. Still, it is disappointing not to have something to look forward to.

But when he gets home, and opens the box of clay, he finds a note inside. It has the name of a coffee shop, and Tuesday, 3pm?, and Hob's personal number. At first he's confused. Why wouldn't Hob simply ask him while they were together? And then he realizes that Hob must be trying to give him a chance to comfortably back out if he wants to by letting him decide in private. It makes him want to cry again. Hob truly is too considerate of him.

But he takes out his phone and types in Hob's number, and a simple reply. Yes.

[strawberry-cowmilk]

could you write something abt them with an mc who is scared of failure please?

hi!! Yes, of course I can write that, I hope you like it!

the brothers with an mc who is afraid of failure

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

a/n: I kind of implied the mc's fear is getting triggered by an exam in some parts

content warnings: fear of failure, angst (with comfort)

-----

Lucifer

rad exams were coming up and you started acting differently than usual

of course lucifer notices that change in less than one second but he doesn't bring it up until it gets worse the closer the exams get

so he calls you into his office to see if you're willing to talk to him

if you do decide to talk to him, lucifer knows he can't just take the fear away, but he can sit down next to you and try to help you cope

Mammon

mammon noticed something was going on and decided to ask you if something was bothering you

he goes full pep talk mode when you tell him

he tells you about all the times he failed an exam, all the times he got fired from a job and he's still doing good, so it's okay to make a mistake sometimes

mammon doesn't expect your fear of failure to suddenly go away after his pep talk, but maybe it could bring a smile to your face

Leviathan

levi wants to comfort you but he's not sure how to do it

at first he tells you about his experiences where he felt the pressure to not fail like during an important exam but then stops talking because he feels like he's not helping

so the best he can do is offer you a hug, if you want one

before he met you, levi was afraid of some things himself but got over them, if he can get over his fears so can you eventually

Satan

he gets it, he feels the need to perform well strongly

and honestly satan can't cope with those feelings himself, so how will he be able to be helpful to you?

he tells you he can't take your fear away, but he believes in you and if you do fail it won't matter in the end and it will not define you or your worth

satan failed too, he got very angry but in the end, that failure did not matter

Asmodeus

sometimes he feels pressure to perform well too, for example during some live streams, but he won't talk about his experiences

asmo is willing to give you a hug and tell you it's okay to fail that one exam, or blow that one job interview

because in the end you got tons of other chances and you got a charming personality

if you want, he'll take you somewhere you can take your mind off of it for a while

Beelzebub

honestly he's not the best person at comforting either but he really tries, the first thing he usually does is offer the one in need of comfort some snacks

so he'll offer you some comfort food and if you feel up to it, you can talk to him

beel listens closely to everything you say and lets you hug him if you want to

he knows he can't get rid of the fear, but he can tell you the big or small mistakes you make do not define you

Belphegor

he doesn't know how to comfort you, when he's upset or stressed he just goes to take a nap but that is not helpful right now he believes

he just tells you a story about how he messed up an exam once, he thought he ruined his whole gpa but combined with everything else, it had very little effect

belphie goes 'sorry I'm bad at this' but his point is, a little bit of failure is okay, nobody will get upset or mad at you for trying

[madame-fear]

*ೃ༄ 𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐍.ೃ࿐

— summary : being the eldest daughter of King Jacaerys Velaryon, you have always swooned over your uncle, Lucerys Velaryon. Fortunately, you personally meet again in Driftmark when you are a fully grown woman, just to learn more about each other’s feelings. — word counter : 3.0k

— pairing : uncle!lucerys velaryon x niece!reader — genre : fluff.

Ever since you were born, you had always favoured your Uncle Lucerys. And on the other hand, Lucerys favoured you as his favourite niece.

He was the younger brother of your father, King Jacaerys, and the lovely relationship you both had was notorious by everyone that personally (or not) knew you. Whenever Lucerys visited your family in King’s Landing, you always ran to tightly embrace his legs and he would always lift you from the floor just to fill your face with tons of endearint smooches and hugs.

You always played with him and had him read you fantasy books before sleeping; even if Jacaerys adored taking you to dragonrides on top of Vermax so you would know how to train and bond with a dragon, you always ran to go on rides on top of Arrax with Lucerys as a little girl, had your hair brushed or braided by Luke, and loved to sit on his lap. In short, you had a profound adoration to clinging to your Uncle Lucerys. You could even hear a thousand of times the stories of how he took his uncle Aemond’s eye when he claimed Vhagar and how he escaped gravely injured from being chased down by his uncle in Storm’s End without growing bored.

Over the course of time, as you grew, slight bitter feelings caused a riptide in your chest whenever you saw him with his Lady Wife Rhaena, or even, when he was surrounded by girls that twirled strands of their hair or giggled at the things he said, as silly as they were. The sight and mere thought of it had began to make your stomach form a knot from jealousy, and you always took the attention away from them by appearing into the scene and asking him to be with you. Whenever you did that, everything else was non-existent for Lucerys. Only you mattered, and you always did.

You were often teased at the way you always dragged him away from the girls, even away from his wife, and how he always favoured you in every possible situation. Not that it truly mattered to you what they said other than getting a small rosy fluster on your cheeks, you were rather satisfied by how you had him wrapped around your finger.

And as you grew into puberty, being on your late teens and nearly a fully grown woman, those feelings for him had never vanished. They had faithfully remained there with you, only becoming more intense. You were rather precious and beautiful, and Lucerys could never deny such thing. The relationship with you, much like your feelings for him, had intensified as well. The way you stared at him was deep and sensuous, nearly piercing into his soul.

Often, he found himself eyeing you up and down with a dumbfounded grin occupying his lips, and your father noticed. Some small remarks were made about the topic, but even so, that was never enough for Lucerys to take his green eyes off of your alluring self, or even grow closer to you. Deep inside of him, it made him feel guilty to have certain thoughts about you, his older brother’s daughter, but to him, you were the most exceptionally unique woman he had ever met in his life; physically, personally, and intelectually graceful. You invaded his thoughts, and his mind.

Some years had passed since you last saw one a other physically. Of course, you sent raven letters to one another, but both of you craved for your presences to at least be near each other even if you weren’t aware of your mutual desires. Lucerys had even received a letter from your father that you were to be betrothed, and he read the continous ranting of how you despised the idea of getting married and being a pumping maching of heirs to secure your place on the Iron Throne, and how frustrated you were at your father.

All that Lucerys could do was comfort you with his soothing words, assuring you it was merely for politics, and duties. Even if he hated to admit it to himself, the idea od you marrying off to someone else made his chest tighten with a hint of vast jealousy and made his stomach turn.

After continously insisting to your father, you had finally been allowed to personally visit Lucerys in Driftmark, and stay a few days with him. But instead of being taken with a royal carriage, you had chosen to get on top of your dragon, and go by yourself on Driftmark. Your Uncle had been informed that you would be shortly arriving on dragonback, and he eagerly awaited for you. Fortunately for you, it was a short trip.

As you arrived to Driftmark, your dragon’s flapping wings motion leisurely stopping as you finally reached your destination and landed to the ground, you got off it’s saddle. As expected, your Uncle stood outside with both of his hands clasped on top of one another in front of his body, trying to hold back a grin from the sight of you. In many ways, you reminded him of his mother ─ and your grandmother ─ Rhaenyra for your personality.

The guards of Driftmark began approaching your dragon, trying to get it to calm as it was still young and wild. With gentle steps, you approached Lucerys. “Ēza issare bōsa jēda daor ūndegon.” (it has been a long time no seeing) you greeted in High Valyrian. The grin he had been contained finally occupied his rosy lips, extending his arms for you to embrace him.

“Kessa. Se nyke jeldan naejot ūndegon ao aderī.” (yes, and I already wished to see you soon.) Lucerys whispered as you embraced your arms around his neck, and his own arms were wrapped around your waist. Discreetly, he took in that sweet scent of yours that he could never forget. “It’s so good to see you again, Uncle.” those words came slightly muffled as you had hidden your face on the crook of his neck, making him spur a soft chuckle.

“Driftmark looks... Different than what I remembered.” letting go of his neck, you shifted your gaze to admire Driftmark in general. Placing a hand on the small of your back, he guided you inside, raising an eyebrow. It had been quite some time since you stepped into Driftmark, and your uncle Lucerys wasn’t even a Lord yet.

“Is that a good, or bad thing?” you shrugged in response.

With a slight goosebump invading your body at the touch of his warm hand on the small of your back, you entered Driftmark together. Your eyes scanned cautiously the place with certain curiousity. It felt different from the last time you had visited Driftmark with your family, yes, but for you, it felt more... Homely. Comfortable, warm, and as if you could forever stay in there.

Ever since Lucerys had became Lord, the atmosphere of Driftmark contained his tranquil, sweet vibes. And the fact that it was only the two of you alone with no other family member around, simply made you crave that time passed slowly, and your visit to Driftmark would last longer.

“No, I wouldn’t say... Bad, not really. I would rather say it feels comforting. It feels much better than King’s Landing, certainly.” behind your joking tone, there was a hint of honesty, and Lucerys could see right through you. He gave you a little side smile at hearing you say the word comforting to refer Driftmark under his reign. Even, a slight rosy fluster. “I wish I could stay in here with you, Uncle.”

A tranquil silence loomed over you after the last statement you said, as you walked near Luke around Driftmark to explore further. A certain pride filled him, hearing how you preferred to stay with him. “I wish you could stay in here as well, my love. And I know I’m your favourite relative,” breaking the silence, he spoke with a playfully teasing tone. “But I have the feeling you wish to stay here because you are upset with your father.” you craned your head around to stare at him, raising your eyebrows.

Maybe it was stupid hiding how you felt for him, and those feelings went beyond being head over heels for him. It was as if he knew every single one of your emotions in the right time. “Is it because of your betrothal? Are you trying to avoid it?” in a sense, he was right. But it was not entirely the reason you wished to stay. Your silence was notorious, and tense.

“I read every single one of your letters, I know how you feel, (y/n). Do you not like your betrothed?” he inquired. His stomach bitterly knotted with jealousy at the thought of your betrothal, but he understood that you had duties to fulfill, just like him when his mother betrothed him to Lady Rhaena. You sighed, lowering your sight to the ground, feeling frustrated. It took you a few long seconds until you gave him a proper answer, trying to manage how to express your feelings. It was more than complicated and you wished to avoid the topic, but you knew you would have to answer anything to him.

Lifting your gaze to his hazel eyes, you noticed him gawking upon you. The way he profoundly stared at you never failed to make yourself feel a bit timid around his presence. “I’m not content at the decision my father made even if I understand I have duties to do as future Queen, I wish it wouldn’t have been this soon. And, I wish it wouldn’t have to be this way.” you began speaking, as the young Lord made soft steps towards you. “It’s not that I don’t like my betrothed, I do. He’s been very sweet, kind, and gentle with me since I met him. But, I can only see him as a friend, rather than my future Husband. He’s not the one I desire.”

Before you could timidly advert your gaze to the ground once again, the Velaryon Lord gently placed his index finger on your chin, and swiftly lifted your head so you could stare into his eyes. “Unfortunately betrothals are only political conviniences. We can’t really marry the one we so desire, or need.” he whispered, gently gazing down to you. It was as dreadful as it was for you, knowing you were to be married, and he was already forced to marry even before you were born. You gulped, partly opening your lips to respond, but nothing came out from it. That allowed him to continue, after a few seconds of staying quiet.

“Who do you desire, (y/n)?” he asked, using a low voice tone to speak. You were absolutely reluctant to let him know what, or who you wanted ─ knowing it had always been him. The hot feeling of your cheeks turning a crimson tint started to creep on your face, as you stared up at him. His finger under your chin glided away. “I...” you paused, discreetly passing your tongue over your lower lip. “It’s stupid. I don’t think you will be very much delighted to hear. And besides... I don’t want you to hate me.” concern slightly took over his expression upon hearing that there was a chance he wouldn’t be satisfied with whom you wanted, but rapidly changed it at your last words, replacing it with a scoff.

“Hate you? Please, (y/n). I could never despise, hate, or be disappointed in you. You were always my highest priority. I even prioritised you, my niece, over the woman that is supposed to be my Lady Wife since the day you were born, have I not?” your lips quivered into a vast, cheek-hurting smile, highlighting your fluster as you spurred some chuckles. He smiled along you, enjoying how your eyes twinkled. “I will never judge you for who you want.” he finished speaking, quietly and softly.

A huff escaped your nostrils, hesitant to confess it to him. Your heart pounded violently against your chest, feeling the adrenaline rush through your veins. The nerves you carried were notorious, mostly by the way your hands shook without stopping for a single second, the shaking simply increasing. This time, you did manage to lower your gaze elsewhere, giving him a little frown with your lips.

“I do not wish to stay in Driftmark with you for the sole idea of avoiding the fact that I will soon marry, and begin to have children of my own...” you began speaking, your voice shaking along your hands. With his own, he took them, caressing them with his thumb to soothe you. He was intrigued, attentively listening to you. You gulped, before shifting your eyes towards his own bright green ones. Gods, his stare could melt you right there, along with his touch.

“It’s because you were the one I had always desired since I began to grow. And... I doubt that could change anytime soon.”

Even if your voice continued to be furiously shaking from the nerves, your answer was blunt and honest. For a second, Luke stopped caressing the soft back of your hand with his thumb. His green eyes widened in surprise, and all that surrounded you vanished, not mattering anymore. It was just the two of you now, alone with your feelings to confess. The way Lucerys’ heart was beating resembled your very own, now. Like you did, his lips were partly open to respond, still being amused at your sudden confession, but you interrupted him. The lack of response had your anxiety increase, shattering you in pieces at the fact that, perhaps he didn’t feel the same.

“I told you, it was very stupid. I think I should now leav─”

Getting Lucerys to loose hold of your hand was a failed attempt as you tried to walk away awkwardly from the situation, as Luke gripped your hand tighter, and pushed you back towards him. With surprise, you furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him, and before you could say anything, you locked lips. His eyes fluttered shut while your own grew wide for the very few seconds of his abrupt movements. His rosy lips were as plushy and tender as you imagined they would be, and he took hold of your own very tender. You were rather controlled with your impulses, otherwise you would’ve definitely nibbled on those pretty lips of his. You swore you would spit your heart out from how rapid it was beating.

Lucerys placed his hand on your cheek, tenderly stroking your cheek with the tip of his thumb in leisure movements. It felt heavenly, and his lips were your very own elysian paradise. As the young Lord pulled away from you, remaining near enough for your lips to grasp against one another, you gave him a dumbfounded smile. “It’s not stupid, and don’t you dare to leave me here.” lucerys whispered playfully, smiling at you, sweetly leaning closer just to rub the tip of his nose with yours. “Ever since you became a fully mature woman, you have no idea how I always craved the thought of being able to touch your skin, kiss you... And how I melted under your gaze whenever I travelled to King’s Landing and you stared at me, with those pretty eyes of yours.”

The thumb that caressed your cheek travelled to run across your lower lip, making you release a dreamy sigh. The Velaryon Lord pressed his forehead against your own, both of you simultaneously closing your eyes, giving into the mutual warmth of the moment as his arms were wrapped around your waist, pressing you tightly against his chest.

“I love you, Uncle. I need you.” you whispered, running your hand across his chest, as his thumb caressed your lips fervidly. You wished nothing but to remain in his arms, being showered in love by him. It made you feel vulnerable under his touch, and you wouldn’t want it to be any other way. Despite continuing to eternally dread the idea of marrying someone else, your focus was fixed on the moment.

“And so do I, my love.” lucerys whispered back, “Perhaps I could charm your father into marrying you with me, instead of marrying you to that silly little man?” the way he kept being so sweetly playful around you made you chuckle. You wished it could be that way. Unbeknownst to you, as good as he was hiding things behind jokes, there were certain things he could never jest about. And this was the case.

“Just in case, I’m being serious. I would break off my marriage just to be with you.” you slowly opened your eyes, looking at him as your fingers moved to stroke his cheek. His skin under your fingertips felt as dreamy as it could be. “We can’t break our marriages just to be with one another, as much as we wish.” those words escaped from your lips as a murmur, a bit saddened and disappointed. His mother Rhaenyera had married her uncle Daemon, why could this not be the same case? He thought to himself. But he would come up with something to be with you, as his true other half.

“I know. But I will do everything in my power just to have you by my side always, no matter what happens, or who comes across our path.” one of the hands that was on your back as his arms were wrapped around you travelled to the back of your head, pressing himself against you even more firmly, and passionately.

You left Lucerys without a respnse for a few seconds, giving what he just said a deeper thought. “You promise?” you asked, clinging to the little bit of hope you had to be with him. With the one you truly loved, and loved you back.

There were going to be challenges, especially with the fact that not only both of you were married ─ with you soon to be ─, but because he knew your father wouldn’t approve the relationship. But Luke remained determinated, and eager to fight for whom he deeply loved.

“I promise. We will find our way, together.”

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenyacore @hannaroktj @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @ladylyanna91 @robbsstar

[kittyball23]

Memory (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: JD, Spruce, and Clay come to terms with their Grandmother Rosiepuff’s fate

A/N: Requested by JoltJackalope on Wattpad :)

__________________________________________

“I can’t believe she’s… gone.”

Spruce said the words slowly, like he was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that his Grandma had died. John Dory and Clay peered at him with similar looks of disbelief.

“I mean, I guess I can believe it,” Clay spoke up in response, “but just… not the way Branch said it happened…” He thought about how their youngest brother had described it, picturing a Bergen swiping her away to a terrible fate. His stomach churned in an unpleasant manner.

John Dory’s imagination wasn’t too different, and it made him feel guilty. Being the oldest, he had the most memories of their Grandmother. How she’d supported the five of them, encouraged them to follow their dreams and cheered them on as they did so. One particular moment stuck out to John Dory. And, unbeknownst to him, the moment he was thinking of was a significant one in Spruce and Clay’s memories too…

“Let me take you to a better plaaaace,

I’m gonna make you kiss the sky tonight

Yeah if you let me show the waaay,

I’m so excited, to see you excited!”

John Dory just couldn’t seem to quit singing. He was proud of their song - it was catchy, and a hit among everybody in the crowd who’d come to see their band. Singing it twice didn’t seem to be cutting it, but the show had to come to an end. Thankfully, he could rest at ease knowing that he and his brothers would perform again.

While JD was more focused on the performance part of it, Spruce couldn’t help but recall how many girls he’d made faint after they’d caught a glimpse of his exquisitely toned body. Clay on the other hand was a bit sore, having given it his all when it came to the dancing, but he knew it was completely worth the grand applause the audience had given afterwards.

“They loved us!” their younger brother Floyd exclaimed, looking absolutely touched by the prospect of so many Trolls supporting their music as he made his way backstage with the others.

“Of course they loved you, sweetie,” a gentle voice responded. The boys grinned a tad wider when their Grandma approached them, with Baby Branch inside of a little carrier at her front. The youngest BroZone brother was only a couple months old, still not able to join his older bros up on the stage to dance and sing just yet, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t cheer them on. He clapped his hands enthusiastically and blurbled happily.

“You were ALL wonderful,” Grandma Rosiepuff continued, gently leaning over to caress Floyd’s cheek. He blushed a little and she chuckled fondly. “Do you know why?”

The magenta Trolling looked up at her. “Why?” he asked in a small, curious voice.

“Because each of you is special,” she responded. She looked over at JD first and smiled.

“John Dory, you had a dream and you made it come true. You created an amazing band that you love being a part of.  Just remember that with the right determination, and with your brothers by your side, you CAN achieve anything that your heart desires.”

JD beamed. He liked the sound of that! Grandma was right. His brothers believed in him. And he believed in his brothers. They could accomplish TONS of things if they just continued to work together as a team!

Their Grandma addressed Spruce next. “Spruce, you have a passion burning inside of you unlike anybody else I’ve seen. You'll succeed on what you set your mind to, so long as you never let it burn out."

Spruce smiled at her. “I won’t, Grandma,” he promised.

“Ooo, ooo, me next!” Clay called out, jumping up and down, and raising his hand up in a playful manner.

Rosiepuff giggled. “Clay, being able to make anybody laugh is a fantastic gift. You’re a fun little guy, and I don’t think you’ll have a problem knowing how to keep things real when they matter.”

“Nope, I don’t think so either!” Clay chimed back in reply, living up to his jokey personality and doing a goofy little dance.

Rosiepuff had to laugh again, and then spoke to Floyd. “Floyd. Your talent to write songs is beyond incredible. You don’t have to be afraid to sing or dance in front of a lot of people - you have great friends by your side.” She gestured behind him at John Dory, Spruce, and Clay. “If you ever feel like you’re in trouble, just know that they’ll be there for you. Always.”

Floyd responded by giving his Grandma a hug.

In the baby carrier, Branch giggled.

“And I can’t forget about you, Branch!” Rosiepuff said, nuzzling the top of his rich blue hair. “You, my little boy, are so lucky. You have the best big brothers in the world!”

Branch babbled something babyish that they knew meant he was so grateful for it.

Rosepuff smiled down at him, and then opened up her arms to the others. “Come here, boys!”

John Dory, Spruce, and Clay crowded around to join their Grandma, Floyd, and Branch, all warm and happy in her embrace...

... And feeling nothing like that now.

John Dory sure wished his Grandma could hug him right there and then and provide the comfort he needed. Her hugs always felt like they could cure anything, including the guilt he felt for not upholding to her words.

Just remember that with the right determination, and with your brothers by your side, you CAN achieve anything that your heart desires.

Well, he hadn’t had his brothers by his side, and he hadn’t achieved his goal of having BroZone be together forever.

Spruce hadn’t let his passion die down… in some respects. Of those did not include performing though, which he felt bad for. His Grandmother would’ve perhaps been happy that he was able to start and raise his very own family, but a little sad to see that he didn’t have that desire to get up on a stage and sing anymore like he’d used to. He had tried to bury his boyband days behind him, going as far as to even change his name.

For Clay, it was very rare for a joke to slip past his lips nowadays. Grandma had told him to keep things real when they mattered, though he’d taken it to a much farther level. In fact, his humorous side had almost gone away completely. He no longer chuckled or snickered as often as he used to, and he'd believed that being serious was the way he should continue about his life. But, if he was being truthful, he really did miss that side of him that Grandma said could make anybody laugh. Snubbing it felt like snubbing his Grandmother.

Regardless of their individual reasonings, all three brothers felt as though they'd let her down.

John Dory hadn't realized that the one person he might've wanted to speak to again - aside from the brothers he'd silently hoped he'd make up with one day - was his Grandma. There was so much he wanted to tell her about his adventures out with his caterbus Rhonda, seeing the world.

Spruce would've liked to have told her much about his newfound understanding about relationships, and the true love he'd found with his wife that was so much better than any meaningless fling he'd previously had in his youth.

Clay ached to hear her sweet little laugh again, seeing the smile spread on her face that was because of a joke he'd cracked, and wanting to show her the cool tuck-and-roll trick he'd learned in Putt Putt Village.

A simultaneous sigh heaved from the three brothers.

"I mean, we could see her again one day... right?" Spruce asked.

John Dory didn't understand. "Bro, Branch said she died, though!"

"No, dude, he meant, like, somewhere else," Clay clarified, gesturing an arm up and out, the direction towards the sky.

JD cocked his head, not sure what exactly he was supposed to be looking at, until it came to him. His brothers were talking about a better place, one that was not their world full of troubles and regrets. One where Grandma Rosiepuff was free of her suffering, and where they may go one day when they grew old themselves and passed on.

"Ohhh," he said, nodding once and answering honestly.

"Yes. I think so."

__________________________________________ A/N: I guess this could take place when the brothers are waiting for Branch to return after my oneshot "By Your Side"? (and for that matter, before the oneshot "Reconciled")

[heyidkyay]

Oh my god now you’ve got the image of G and Birdie with a little baby girl into my head… you can’t not write it now! I’d love to see maybe them introducing their baby girl to the rest of the band… or anything else you can come up with 🤣

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name | The aftermath

A little snippet:)

--

My due date was March 23rd. Which meant that George would be getting quite the birthday present (if the baby had perfect timing) and that they’d most definitely be an Aries, which were two things I couldn’t quite get behind, but something G was ecstatic over. 

Matty had been hoping the little one would arrive a little late, two weeks late to be precise, just so that he could get one over on George and have the baby share something in common with him instead. He really had been an absolute sweetheart throughout the entire pregnancy, but my God was he pushing it trying to get me to extend the absolute hell I’d endured. 

I’d gone through almost every symptom pregnancy had to offer, from day one I’d felt absolutely vile and then when my second trimester had rolled round I’d had to deal with Braxton Hicks, an undeniable appetite (I’d felt like an actual monster), and dizziness that rivalled anything I’d ever felt before. Including the time when I’d been hit by a fucking car. 

Still, all of Matty’s efforts appeared in vain now seeing as though I went into labour on February 13th, five whole weeks before I was even due. 

To say I’d shit myself would have been an absolute understatement. I was fucking terrified to give birth, let alone that early, and to make matters worse, George had been set to play a show, which meant that he’d had no idea my water had broken until I was high as a kite on fucking gas and air, and he was finally off stage. But thankfully, I’d also been at work and Delia had been the one to walk me through the whole process, we’d headed straight to hospital, due to the fact that I should not have been going into labour this prematurely, but also because she was afraid I was going to give myself a sodding aneurysm simply down to the amount I was panicking. 

But who could blame me?

Anywho, the whole thing seemed a bit small in comparison to when I finally did give birth. We’d been blessed with a tiny, little baby girl- 7 lbs 4 ounces and with a head of thick unruly hair. But before George and I could even get a look in the doctor had told me to start pushing- again.

“They’re coming along quite quickly now, just a few more deep breaths.” 

“You what?” I ask the man in scrubs settled between my legs. Baffled wasn’t even a word I’d begin to use to describe the emotions that hit me right then, having thought I’d heard him wrong until I saw the alarming look on George’s face.

“We need you to push, you can already see baby’s head.” A midwife informs me, ushering George to once again take my hand, to comfort me. He does but he’s caught in a daze. 

“But, but I just did that bit.” I say, mostly stunned, delirious almost for a moment. 

“I know, and you did wonderfully. But baby two isn’t too far behind.” She replies, smiling down at me sincerely even as her attention diverts between a handful of other people stood in the delivery room. 

Her words seem to startle G back into reality, “Baby two? As in twins?”

“Twins! What the hell do you mean, twins?” I feel dizzy once more, head darting between the nurse beside me, G, and the doctor who’s seen a little too much of my insides for my liking. I think I start mumbling then, rambling off a ton of questions, a mile a minute, to anyone and everyone who will listen. Twins. “Are you sure? Twins?”

The nurse laughs, not unkindly, then nods, “Definitely sure, even saw it for myself.”

I’m still not really pushing, too confused, too stunned to really do much, in truth. “Are you having me on? Is this a prank?”

She appears to realise G and I aren’t messing about here and I watch on, frozen, as her whole demeanour shifts before my eyes, “Yes, sweetheart, twins. You really didn’t know?”

I shake my head and am just beyond grateful that George is here with me, holding my hand so tightly that I can truly feel it start to numb- because, what?

Things seem to take a turn then, the entire atmosphere in the room drops when beeping starts up and lights start flashing worryingly. The doctor at the other end of my bed is coaching me through it again, his voice high and harried almost, and I know then that something’s wrong and that it’s all my fault.

“What’s going on?” I ask, eyes immediately snapping over towards the nurse standing beside me but she’s gone, fiddling with the oxygen machine behind my head and then the heart monitor. “G, what- what’s happening? Are they okay? The baby. Are they?”

“You need to push. The baby is losing oxygen, we need to get them out as quickly as possible.”

My heart plummets. I start to panic. It’s my fault. My fault. I’m doing it wrong. I’m to blame. It’s all my fault. I’m messing up and they’re not even really here yet. I’m doing it all wrong.

“We need you to push harder.”

“Breathe.”

“Come on, mum. We need you to really push now.”

“That’s it.”

“Birdie, it’s alright. You’re okay, love. The baby is okay. You just need to push a bit more. Just a little longer, okay?”

I feel my head move- nod?- but the room is spinning, I reckon I’m screaming too. Sobbing, even. My mind so focused on the baby I hadn’t even known I’d been housing, let alone created. My baby. 

Two babies! Two.

I let out a loud groan. Barely even aware of the careful fingers on my temple. 

“Good girl, B.” George whispers to me, lips pressed against my cheek as he brushes hair from out of my face. “You’re doing so well. So good.”

I cry harder, I push harder.

Time seems to have stilled in its entirety, the minutes won’t move, the seconds don’t count. I am lost in this moment, my mind screaming at me to just try harder. 

“And it’s a boy!” I finally hear and then I’m weeping again, crying and clinging to George before he too is dragged away from me by nurses to cut the umbilical cords. I stare up at the ceiling, unable to do much else, chest heaving, thick tears streaming down my cheeks, and all I hear is an overwhelming buzz. The kind I’d grown so used to, starting in my left ear before it soon echos in my right. Jumping, back and forth.

“A boy, Birdie. A boy and a girl.”

I blink and George is there again, hovering over me. He takes my face in his careful hands and holds me so close that we are nose to nose. I realise then he’s crying too.

“Twins.” I whisper breathlessly, every inch of me burns, but I itch to get up, to move and see them.

“Twins.” George repeats with just as much disbelief. “Twins, B. Ours.”

A baby boy, he’d told me. A tiny thing, so full of surprises. He was born smaller than his sister, an even 6 lbs and only ten minutes behind, but his eyes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen, huge and so very innocent, placed between a scattering constellation of tawny freckles that dot his cheeks and kiss his lids. 

A girl and a boy. All ours. 

I’d been taken with them both the moment I’d set my sights on them, ‘the twins' people had dubbed them. ‘Let’s go see the twins!’ ‘The twins are finally crawling!’ ‘Somebody grab a camera, the twins are being cute again!’

Never did I ever believe I’d have a family of my own, let alone a husband or these two beautiful beings that always seemed to stare back up at me with an incredible amount of innocence. It stirs something deep within me each time they do, both the thought and the very sight of them, and when their tiny little hands wrap their way around my fingers I know that I’ll never feel this type of love again. I don’t think I could even begin to describe it.

They are beautiful and they are ours, and I know from the very bottom of my heart that I will protect them until the day that I die. Because, how could I not?

How could anyone not?

[hotchsreader]

Watch it Begin Again

Spencer and Elle have been dating for 6 months and have been hiding it from the team, or have they?

word count: 2.7k

tropes: secret relationship

He always took a minute to put his gloves on, making sure every inch of his fingers were protected down to his wrist. If he had brought a rubber band, Elle would bet he would wrap it around the bottom part of the glove. She noticed he was looking down examining the evidence they had been called out to record as a part of the current case they were working on, and sent Spencer a small smile at the back of his head. She wasn’t one to allow people to know how she was feeling, and with it just being her and Spencer she still didn’t feel like making it obvious that she liked watching him work, he was always so focused and curious.

“Seems like this could be from Heather Daniels, it matches the description of the clothes she was last seen in. Plus, I see blonde hair hanging off the hooded part of the jacket.” Spencer spoke as he turned his head back to Elle, she was looking at the footprint in the dirt next to where he was working.

“I would be genuinely surprised if it were anyone else's Spence, but then again you never know. It always seems like people just lose their clothes all over the place.” Elle could never understand how people left their belongings behind so easily. She always knew what she brought into a place, and made sure she left with it on or with her.

Spencer let out a chuckle, finally standing up to walk back over to her.

“Yeah, not all people are like you Elle, and have an innate fear that they’ll accidentally leave something behind.” He offered her his hand to help her up and went to kiss her hand before letting it go when they both heard Hotch’s footsteps coming up behind them. They broke apart so quickly you would’ve thought they were opposing magnets.

Hotch’s demanding presence changed the entire atmosphere around Elle and Spencer, suddenly the only thing that mattered was the job and completing what they needed to do, no time for anything else. They both agreed that when this started between them, it was something for them only.

“I think we have what we need here, Reid if you could place the jacket in the evidence bag, we can head back up to the local station, we need to deliver the profile to the officers.” Hotch stated, demanding attention from all those around him with his voice. It was so simple for him to be able to make people listen to him, it never took much. His whole demeanor demanded people to pay attention to him. Spencer and Elle had to be careful around him, one wrong move or glance and Hotch would know everything, he was undeniably amazing at his job, no one could ever deny that or take that away from him. But ultimately, it did suck having to try to hide something from her boss who she respected and wanted to be open to, because while he was her boss, he was her friend as well. It felt wrong, but this was for the best.

Elle grabbed her bag off the ground by a tree, where it was sitting next to Spencer’s. She carefully moved hers trying to make sure she didn’t knock his over, knowing it was full to the brim and even moving it an inch would cause tons of the items he insists on bringing everywhere to be all over the ground collecting dirt particles, which would bother him.

“I’ll drive us back Spence, I want to toss theories around while we drive and you’re a way quicker writer than I am.” Elle threw her bag in the backseat while Spencer was already getting in the passenger seat. He knew what she wanted before she even told him, this had been common between the both of them before anything started. It was like he could read her mind, or he paid closer attention to her than anyone else ever did. He wanted to know everything about Elle, the good, the bad, the small things. It all mattered the same to Spencer, she was worth knowing everything about. If knowing one small thing about her would make her happy, he would spend hours learning everything he could.

Elle got in the front seat and turned the SUV, letting out a sigh as the engine warmed up. Spencer looked over at her immediately.

“Are you okay?” He asked a tinge of concern coating his words.

“Yeah, I just hate hiding things from the team. Sometimes it takes everything out of me to watch every word or micro-movement to make sure I’m not letting something slip. I just wish things like this were easier.” Before she finished her sentence Spencer’s hand was on hers, something that he knew calmed her down a bit and brought her mind back to reality instead of falling deeper into her anxious thoughts.

“I know, It bothers me too. Maybe we could take it slow? And see how it feels to be a bit more open? If we get uncomfortable we can stop. I want everything to be right with you Elle, you are the most important person to me.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and smiled at her.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” Elle grabbed his hand, and kissed it, returning the kiss that was lost in the woods an hour ago and started driving back to the station.

-

“We are looking for a white male mid-thirties. He would have spent time in jail, due to the way the crime scenes were cleaned up and how he folded the towels he used afterward. We believe him to be a sadist, meaning he wants to inflict pain on the victim and takes pleasure in seeing them hurt.” Hotch began the profile briefing to the local police department, always ready to get on with it and never stuttering his words.

“He would have prior convictions of sexual crimes on his rap sheet, something this sophisticated doesn't begin overnight. He had time to practice, time to plan, and he would have been caught previously. He thinks he can never be caught, so he is one to make mistakes due to his narcissistic personality.” Elle spoke, she always tackled the parts about sexual crimes, having previous experience in that field before becoming a part of the BAU. Spencer wondered what she was like when she first started in the FBI. Knowing her now, he had no doubts she impressed everyone she came into contact with. She was bound to be good at this.

The profile briefing went quickly. Spencer filled them with statistics and things to look for when trying to find the unsub and what they should do when they find him. Nothing about this case was typical, and he was ready to take a small break between going to the other scene. He sat down in the room the local office had given them to work in and pulled out today's Crossword. The first few words he fills out he does not mind the things around him until a brush of cold air hits him and pulls him out of his focus.

“Which one are we one?” Spencer realized it was Elle, sitting so close that their knees were touching and her hands were over his legs, motioning to his crossword in his hand.

He moved the crossword so that way they both could have their hands on it and do it together. This was a common occurrence between them when they were at home. They had been dating for half a year, and they spent a lot of time at each other’s places, going back and forth after work. They left separately to never raise attention to the fact they ended up going to the same place when they got back. It was a waste of gas and Spencer felt bad, but if Elle was comfortable, he would deal with it. This, this small little move in front of anyone, was a bright light on a hard day.

They sat there for a long time, laughing, knees touching, sharing the pen back and forth, and by the time they finished the crossword they looked up to see JJ standing in front of them, a sly smile on her face.

“Hey you guys, sorry to interrupt whatever is going on there, but we have another body.” She kept her smile on Elle as Elle got up and walked with her. Spencer saw Elle playfully land a punch on JJ’s shoulder and JJ gasped like she was hurt. He smiled looking at them, knowing Elle now felt comfortable around someone other than him with their relationship.

He went back to the crossword for a few minutes until Morgan came to retrieve him to go to the crime scene.

-

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP,” Hotch yelled, facing the unsub, who they found to be Terry Hamilton, the profile was right down to the way he was reacting to them trying to take him in. He was a narcissist at his core. This was not going to end well for him, and if he kept going in the direction he was going, it might not end well for them either. Spencer saw Elle creeping closer behind him, she had the element of surprise on her side, one wrong set and he would know that she was there.

Elle hit his side, knocking him off balance, he swung hitting her cheek. She tried to judge where he was going but was a half second off and his fist collided with her face. She stepped to the side as a gunshot rang through the air. The man collapsed to the ground as Gideon lowered his gun, and when he did Spencer ran over to Elle.

“Elle… are you okay?” He raised his hand to her cheek seeing the bruise already starting to appear. Elle has always bruised easily. When she started coming over to Spencer’s she would always hit her leg on his coffee table and by the time they went to bed, she’d have a giant bruise.

“Yeah, he got a few good hits in but I’m good, thanks to Hotch.” She smiled up at Spencer, his hand caressing her face until he realized everyone was looking at them and quickly let his arm down. A blush appeared on his cheeks as he fumbled away talking about how bruises appear and how fast they can disappear. Elle listened to him until she couldn't hear him anymore and laughed to herself, putting her own hand up to her face, starting to feel the pain.

“Elle, you good?” Morgan asked walking over to her as she started to walk away.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I've had worse fights.” She winked at him and he let out a small chuckle.

“What was that with Reid, by the way? He never touches people like that.”

“It was nothing, Derek, he was just checking on me.” She rolled her eyes as the team started heading back to their cars, this case was over and it was finally time to leave.

Derek didn’t follow behind her. He stood there for a minute taking it all in. Spencer touched Elle’s face, the way he talked so gently towards her, the way they looked at each other during the profile briefing. He could have sworn he even saw them doing a crossword together and they were sitting pretty close, hell, he didn’t even know Elle liked to do crosswords. Something was going on with them, he knew it. But he loved Spencer, and he respected Elle, they’d say something when they felt ready to. How long could they try to keep this quiet?

They got back on the plane, everyone going to their own areas, designated to them years prior. It wasn't a shock that Terry Hamilton ended his own life via cop. It was indicated in the profile. The only thing that wasn’t was that he’d try to fight his way out of it and that Elle would be on the receiving end of it. She just wanted to go home, to Spencer’s, have a warm cup of hot cocoa, and go to bed. But here she was, on a plane, in front of their coworkers and friends, and all she wants is the man sitting across from her. She wants him to hold her hand, to put the ice pack on her face for her, to take the pressure of being a strong woman in front of everyone just for a minute. Something was calling her over to him. He was currently asleep. His head lying on his jacket, he looked so peaceful and she wanted to be there with her love.

“Hey, Spence?” She whispered, loud enough to get his attention, but not loud enough to mess with anyone else.

“Yes, love?” He responded without even opening his eyes. He knew what she wanted to do. She got up, moved her things with her, and laid with him. Not a care in the world, not caring if anyone else noticed. She just wanted him. She was tired, in pain, and frustrated. Being next to him, took the pressure off for a minute. She laced her arm through his, laid her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes.

-

“Hey, it’s time to wake up sleepy head.” She heard Spencer’s voice break through the barrier of her sleep, and woke up to him slightly shaking her shoulder. The rest of the team had already gotten off the jet, it was not unlike Spencer to let her sleep for a little while longer. He knew about her insomnia and how hard it was for her to go to sleep and stay asleep.

“Did anyone notice?” were the first words out of her mouth.

“Yeah, JJ gave us a look and Gideon smiled at me.” He rubbed her shoulder as they walked off the Jet into the open.

The office felt, warmer today. Something was lifted off of Elle’s shoulders. Maybe it was the fact she no longer had to hide, maybe it was the want to be comfortable with Spencer in the open and around everyone. She never wanted to hide because she was embarrassed about him, she loved everything about that man. She just knew that when it was out and open, there was a fear that the real world could come crashing down and hurt their relationship. But the hiding also was hurting it. They had to be so careful about everything around the people they trusted the most, it didn't make sense. Penelope was going to be so happy about this, she wanted Elle to find someone who loved her, for her. And she found him, he was right in front of her the entire time.

“About time.” Elle heard behind her and Spencer as they walked into the bullpen. She turned around to see Penelope behind her.

“What do you mean, about time Garcia?” She asked sarcastically with her hand in Spencer's.

“Elle, my sweet Elle, everyone knew the entire time my love.” She patted her on the shoulder and turned to Spencer.

“Treat her well young Prince.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Wait, what?” “What do you both mean?” Elle was almost frantic at this point.

“You can try all you want to hide things from us, I for one, always pay attention when it comes to my friends finding love. The team knew after about the first week.” She winked and walked into the bullpen, smiling and singing.

“Did you know, they knew?” She spun her head over towards her boyfriend.

“Elle, we work with some of the greatest profilers, I knew they’d find out eventually but I wanted you to be the one to initiate telling them.”

She smiled, knowing that he would protect her no matter what. She felt like it was time, even if the team had already known this was HER time to let it be open to them. They never asked questions about it to make sure Elle would feel safe and secure in telling them herself. She appreciated it. It felt safe. It felt like she was watching her relationship begin again. This time, with no hiding. No stolen glances when no one was looking, and no having to hide when they desperately wanted to comfort each other when a case was hard or like this time, when someone got hurt.

“Come on, love. Let’s go show them what they’re all waiting to see. I bet Morgan is dying to say something to the both of us.” He squeezed her hand tighter as they opened the door to their future together.

[kodared]

☆ Welcome home Neighbor~! ☆

Since when could puppets talk?

Chapter 2/?

————————————————————————

The smooth and crisp wind passing over your body was nothing but pleasant, You must have fallen asleep while hanging out with your friends.

As you sat up though, the way your bones ached made you consider otherwise.

You also don't remember your friend's backyard being this vast… or colourful?

Suddenly it hit you like a ton of bricks. The memory of the previous day wracking through your skull and providing nothing but headache and disturbance to your very core.

You rose your hand to rub the effects of an unrestful sleep from your eyes, your knees cracking slightly as you rose from the soft grass. Nothing about this forest seemed natural.

The trees were seemingly all different colours despite it being nowhere close to autumn. The grass was perfectly trimmed, and butterflies flew freely, with no flowers nearby, and the birds chirped even if you didn't spot them.

This all felt too perfect.

Your hands found purchase in your pockets, thankful for your clothes to have not been robbed as you feel all of your previous items to still be there. Including newspaper clippings and various other folded papers.

‘I guess there's nowhere left to go but forward..’ You thought.

As much as you did not want to, the feeling of hunger knawed at your bones. Looking at your hands and knees you realize you also need medical assistance as well, or at the very least bandaids and hydrogen peroxide.

The uncomfortable feeling of dried blood aching at the palms of your hands and knees, your once comfortable sweat pants now having holes in the knees from where you… fell?

…

Yeah, fell. You had to have taken quite a tumble to sustain this amount of injury. There was no other explanation for it.

As you walked farther and deeper into the vast forestation, you saw civilization ahead of you! Or at the very least a small village, perfect!

Something didn’t feel right though as you were nearing the village. It was far too colourful. Even if all you could see was a storefront and a Post office, something about this felt wrong.

Maybe you could turn around and find a highway to get someone else's help, you weren't about to try and stumble into a cult afteral-

“ Why! Arent you interesting looking Neighbor!”

You quickly turned on your heel at the voice coming from behind you. Only to be met with a more confusing sight.

It… He? He appeared to be about several feet tall, towering far above you, His skin being green. One thing however made you freeze in fear.

He had Multiple arms and legs.

His arms holding what appeared to be multiple baskets and crates of produce,

“Ah! I don't mean to startle you! Are you alri..?”

Nope. You were not about to stick around to hear the rest of his sentence. You did not care. You knew better than to run in the direction of the Village, so you used the advantage of being shorter than average to go behind him, deeper into the woods.

“Wait a Second!”

You ran for what felt to be an eternity before leaning against a tree to regain your lost stamina. Your laboured breaths bordered on hyperventilating as you recalled what you just witnessed.

‘He at least had to have two sets of arms and legs! And was he green?!’

You don't know how you got here but clearly, your hunger did not matter anymore. You were not going back to that village.

You slid down the base of the tree you were leaning on, deciding on taking a brief pause to calm down.

I mean you had to have lost him anyways,

‘he was holding crates and boxes, he would never be able to catch u-’

“Gotcha!”

You felt arms wrapping under yours. Okay. Panic time!

You kicked your legs like a wild animal, panicked words tumbling out of your mouth in a crazed flurry. There may have been a few cuss words flung at the Green man, but that obviously did not matter to him.

“LET GO OF ME YOU SON OF A-”

Two of his arms held you under your arms, lifting you up and holding you tightly to his chest, while his other set gripped at your legs, clearly trying to stop you from kicking him.

“You're a wild one aren’t ’Cha! Calm down!”

Your breath become frantic again, and the feeling of a panic attack gripped your spine as you felt his arms hold tightly against you, successfully restraining you from freeing from his grip.

The pain from your previous abrasions resurfaced as you felt the uncomfortable feeling of felt fabric against open scratches. Was this guy a puppet??

All of a sudden it hit you, he looked like one of the puppets in the illustration at the Warehouse!

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you both stood in silence, the only sound present being your hyperventilation.

“Take deep breaths, I aint gonna hurt cha,”

Lies. those had to be lies. You tried to calm down though for your own safety, it wasn't good to have your mind clouded with fear if you had any plans to escape.

His grip readjusted on you as his second pair of arms went from restraining to holding you up comfortably, your knees supported by his arms.

“Just like that friend, you're doing good”

You didn't like the way those words made comfort trickle into your brain, one thought presented itself into your mind as you breathed more evenly though, he mentioned earlier you looked interesting.

Was he just as confused as to what you were as you were of him?

You looked at his arms that held you to his chest, his hands only possessed four fingers in total, as opposed to your five. His skin also being green, with a tinge of dark green highlighting where his knuckles would be, a stark contrast to your skin.

“I would put ya down but m‘fraid of you running off again, I don't think I properly introduced myself! Names Howdy, Howdy Pillar!”

You craned your neck to look at his face, He had a set of antennae similar to that of a…

Oh, his name was a bug pun, okay that's kinda cute.

“Uh, Names Y/N, Sorry for… Running?”

You were still confused about your… situation as a whole, but the least you could do was be polite. He hadn't done anything to really make you distrust him yet. Other than chase you of course, but maybe there was a reason for that.

“Don't apologize for that! M’sorry for chasing ya!”

He let out a chuckle at the end of his sentence, a dark green blush finding its way onto his face. Your curiosity got the best of you,

“So uhm... What are you?”

You blurted out as you looked at his hands, Your free hand finding its way on top of his... Okay yeah he had big hands, nothing is new to you about that.

He let out a laugh this time as he began to talk,

“I could be asking ya the same thing! Ya okay to be put down? I don’t want ‘cha running off though,”

“Yeah, I won't run this time”

At your promise of not running, he unwrapped his arms from you and set you on the ground, you turned to face him and once again were met with the same features you saw last time.

“Oh my! You're really banged up!”

His hands grabbed at your hands, flipping them over in his grasp to inspect the damage, you could still see the curious glint in his eyes as he examined your hands in comparison to his.

“Oh yeah, that's actually why I was walking over to your.. town? You wouldn't have anything to help would you?”

His hands once again picked you up… And you were beginning to feel like a stray cat with how this guy held you.

“I own one of the best Shops in my Neighborhood! You've come to the perfect Caterpillar!”

You prayed there were no other bugs in the village as a shudder crept up your spine. You didn't dislike bugs, but you weren't the fondest of them either.

His eyes examined you as you dangled your legs in his grip... Okay, you knew he was curious but this was beginning to border on weird.

“Well! We should… Go there! I'm still bleeding a bit”

You raised your hands in emphasis, your exasperated expression must have been prominent to Howdy as he set you down rather quickly.

“Of course! Follow my lead!”

Howdy took hold of one of your hands as gently as he could, the felt texture still irritating your sensitive hands though.

You could only assume he took hold of your hand as an extra reassurance you wouldn't dash away at a moment's notice, this was only confirmed by his glances over his shoulder to you, confirming you were still following along.

You decided to start up a friendly conversation, seeing as you weren't particularly fond of the silence that had dissolved over the two of you.

“So, are the other townspeople bugs too? Or is it just you?”

You hoped your question didn't come off as offensive to Howdy, but as he let out a small giggle you felt your suspicions leaving your mind.

“No, seems to be just lil ol me that's a caterpillar! My friend Eddie actually looks very similar to you,”

Howdys head turned to look at you again, his antennae perking up a bit as he gave you a friendly grin. ‘Maybe Eddie is also a human, he might be able to help me’ You thought as you met Howdys eyes again.

“We need to get you fixed up before I can introduce you to the Neighborhood though friend! I'm certain I have some spare needle and thread to patch ya up!”

Oh yeah, your pants were ripped at the knees you figured as you glanced down. That would be useful to patch before you… Meet, the rest of the Town.

The rest of the walk was silent, with the Town coming into your vision as you walked with Howdy, you spotted his previously abandoned crates of produce, and a cringe took over your face.

“Sorry for making you drop your things, I didn't mean to inconvenience you.”

It only felt right to apologize to Howdy, even if he did scare you into running unintentionally.

“Don't worry about it! I can always come back for it,”

Howdy let go of your hand to gather up what he could, and you began helping him by picking up dropped apples and oranges that spilled from one of the crates, handing them to Howdy when you gathered what you could.

“Thank you Neighbor! My bugdega is just up here!”

He motioned for you to follow, so you did, you chose to let out a pity laugh at the bug pun.

He set down the crates and boxes he was holding in what you could only assume was the produce section in front of the store to hold the door for you, as you both stepped into the small store, you had to admit, for a puppet, he kept the store looking pristine.

Howdy walked behind his counter and began rummaging through a drawer to find some things to patch you up with as you stood awkwardly still in the front of the store. You took in what he stocked on his shelves,

There seemed to be a wide variety of apple-flavoured products, including apple-scented shampoo, to your dismay there was no toothpaste or bandaids.

If you were going to be stuck here for a while you would have at least appreciated some toothpaste, but you supposed it made sense seeing as Howdy was a puppet.

“Oh! Where are my manners! You can come over here, Neighbor!”

Howdy emerged from the back of the Counter to place a small stool, you felt like a kid again as you sat politely on the stool in front of the crouching Howdy who was holding a sewing kit.

One thing did concern you though, why was he patching your pants and not your scratches?

“This will hurt a bit! But I assure you you'll feel better after your all-patched-up Neighbor!”

…Yeah the adrenaline is back in your veins as he moved his hand to position the needle at your skin.

Your posture went rigid as you pulled your knee away from Howdy,

“UH! I don't need stitches Howdy! It's just a small scratch!” Your nervous laugh returns again

“Nonsense! You still need a Patch for it to heal correctly!”

Howdy moved his second set of hands to grip your leg, keeping you from moving it away from him again,

Right before he could begin stitching at your knee though, you kicked him in the chest, successfully freeing yourself and running for the door.

He had successfully given you a reason to fear him and flee again, you took off down the road, hearing Howdy chase after you.

“You said you wouldn't run again!”

You turned your head to look at the frazzled and confused Howdy,

“THAT WAS BEFORE YOU TRIED TO-”

Your running came to a stop when you slammed into something,

“OUMPH!”

Nope, someone.

“Eddie! Grab hold of 'em!”

Your tailbone hit the hard ground making tears prick at the corner of your eyes again, you just couldn't escape Howdy, could you?

You felt firm hands grab hold of you before you could pick yourself up, as your vision cleared of tears you got a good look at the puppet holding you,

So this was Eddie? He did… kinda? Look similar to you, his hands still had only four fingers, but at least his nose looked more similar to yours... And he wasn't a bug.

Your calm examination of Eddie though was only temporary before you felt Howdy taking hold of you again from Eddie's grip.

“Thank ya kindly Eddie! This one doesn't want to be Patched up it seems!”

“LET GO!! I DON'T NEED TO HAVE STITCHES!”

Your kicking and squirming started back up again, with little concern for Eddies bewildered and concerned look as you tried to claw at Howdys arms and hands.

“They… don't look like us? Are you sure they need patches?”

Eddie's hands took hold of one of yours, examining the damage, the blood has dried and scabbed over by now.

“I! Don't! Need! A! Patch!”

Your legs attempt to kick at Howdy in emphasis.

“I just need a Bandaid! It'll heal over in a Day or two!”

Both of the puppets looked more confused than ever. Suddenly it made sense, they would need a patch for something like this, they were puppets for god sake.

“Whats a bandaid?”

Eddie's hands still had not left yours, as he held his hand up to compare his hand size to yours, he reminded you of a curious teenager.

“It's like, A patch that doesn't need to be permanently sewn into your skin, It just sticks there.”

You struggled to come up with a comparison to what a bandaid was to a puppet-man, you craned your neck again to look up at Howdy,

“And humans don't need to be sewn into unless they're bleeding out, which, I am not.”

Howdys bashful smile took over and replaced his confused one, a small blush seeping into his felt, how did that even work?

“Ah! I understand now Neighbor! I apologize!”

Everyone here was as sweet as honey, you swore if you stayed much longer you would develop a cavity.

“It's no worries, can you?”

You gestured to being put down, wiggling your hand from Eddie's grip while you did so.

“Oh sorry! Names Eddie by the way!”

Howdy set you down with no complaint, Eddie put out his hand for a handshake, which you returned.

“My name is Y/N, and don't worry about it, I know I look a little… new, to you guys”

That was certainly one way of putting it you supposed, you probably looked like an alien to these guys.

“By the way, Howdy? Do you have any spare clothes? Im a bit of a mess.”

“Of course I do Neighbor! Eddie, would you like to come as well?”

The feeling of eyes on you was uncomfortable, but you just scratched it up to Eddie staring at you still.

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

As you all walked back to the Bugdega though, you missed the yellow fellow peeking from the red house.

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

As always Updates are more frequent on my Ao3!

Till next time ! - ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ✨

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Running on Spite and Fumes by Amber McLain

Written for the Phic Phight Prompt: Wes decides to investigate one of Danny's rogues (from @bookhoard)

AO3 Link

[Warnings from past character death (Ember) and fire]

Wes was just about ready to throw in the towel. No matter how many times he said it, no matter how much evidence he provided, no one was ever going to believe that Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same. He'd been trying to show people for almost two years now with nothing at all to show for it. Maybe the time had finally come to give up the ghost and direct his efforts toward something else.

He sat behind and to the left of Danny in physics class. That half-ghost bastard was chugging ectoplasm out of a clear water bottle without a care in the world and nobody but Wes thought there was anything suspicious about that. Not long ago, Wes would have practically thrown a fit over it. Shouted, and pointed, and demanded, "Are none of you seeing this!?" but he didn't today.

Even when Danny turned around to make direct eye-contact with Wes, specifically to antagonize him, he didn't take the bait. "You know what, Fenton?" he said. "You win."

Danny blinked in surprise and put down his water bottle. "What?"

"I said, you win," Wes repeated. "Fuck you, obviously, but I give up. I'm not wasting any more of my time. My reputation has taken enough of a hit already. I'm moving on to newer, better things."

Danny scoffed and leaned on his hand, shooting Wes a mildly amused and thoroughly unconvinced look. "Like what?"

"Like, you know," Wes hadn't really thought about it yet, but he'd be damned if he was about to admit it to Danny. "Ghosts that are actually cool!" he spat. "Like Ember! Phantom is old news. I'm gonna figure out who she is, or—was."

"Right, sure you are," Danny rolled his eyes and turned to face the front of the classroom again, grumbling, "Good luck with that," under his breath.

Wes scowled. He'd just made that up on the spot because he hadn't wanted to admit to Danny, of all people, that he didn't actually have a plan, but now he really was gonna do it. How hard could it be to figure out who a ghost was before they died, anyway?

As it turned out, the answer to that question was 'really fucking hard.' Wes had basically nothing to go on except her song. He ran his personal recording—yes he had a copy of it. Mind control aside, it was a good song!—through every music identification app and program he could find and came up with zip. Either she'd written that song after she died, or she was one of those ghosts that formed in the Ghost Zone and only seemed like a normal ghost, or she was such an obscure indie artist when she was alive that no one... remembered her.... Oh.

That would explain her obsession. Ghosts often became obsessed in death with things they wanted or fantasized about when they were alive, but never got. Finally, Wes had a thread to pull on. He went online, surfing indie music forums, the more obscure the better. He posted the same message in tons of different places.

Does anyone recognize this artist? Her name is Ember McLain, but I can't can't find anything about her anywhere! <remember_ember.mp3>

Usually it was buried right away. No one recognized the song, or no one cared. Several times he got made fun of for having to ask who an artist was, even though no one else on the forums knew her either. It was a few days before he got an actual worthwhile response, but he did get one, which broke the case wide open.

Could you mean *Amber* McLain? The music sounds similar to hers, but I guess she's pronouncing her name weird to make the rhyme work.

She's from my hometown, and I saw her perform a couple small gigs at local clubs and stuff, but don't expect her to drop any new singles any time soon. She died like eight years ago.

Bingo. That was definitely something Wes could work with.

It might be. What town? Do you happen to have any more of her music?

The response came several minutes later.

Milton, Washington. And it took me a while to find the songs, but yeah. She only had the one album, 5 songs on it, and she wasn't bad, so I bought it at one of her shows. <running_on_spite_and_fumes.mp3> <homegrown_arson.mp3> <the_curse_of_adolescence.mp3> <feather_heavy.mp3> <daddy_never_loved_you.mp3>

Wes started downloading the files before he responded.

How'd she die?

This time the answer came right away.

Mid-show, the venue caught fire.

One of the amps blew and everything went up in flames. The back door was blocked, I guess, and she was trapped on stage, never made it out. Like six or seven people died in that fire, it was a big deal for a while.

Burned to death in a concert venue, huh? Wes considered Ember, her flaming hair, the way she was dressed, the spectral guitar she could summon and dismiss at will. That would totally make sense.

Once the music downloaded, he listened to the first song. The lyrics weren't nearly as self-absorbed as "Remember Ember", but the sound was the same. It was distinctly her music, her voice, her playing guitar. It was her sound, from before she'd died. Wes could hear her inhaling at the end of a lyric, could hear her voice catch the way a ghost's voice couldn't.

This is her! Thanks so much for helping me find her! Sucks to hear she died, but at least I could hear a little more of her music.

This had been the breakthrough Wes needed.

Yeah, no problem man! Thanks for reminding me about her. The new song is a bop!

Grinning triumphantly, he printed out that forum exchange for his evidence folder. He knew who she was now. All he had to do was find some more evidence of her life. It wouldn't be all that easy to do when all of that evidence was in a small town in Washington state she'd never made it out of, but Wes was never one to shy away from a challenge.

Ember would probably be happy to hear that she did have at least one fan when she was alive. Not to mention, Wes would make an absolute killing burning CDs with all of Ember's songs from before she died and selling them at school. He finished downloading the files and burned one CD for his folder right away.

The next order of business would be scouring newspapers for articles about her. No matter how obscure the musician was, dying in the middle of a performance when the venue burned down was all but guaranteed to make the news, at least regionally. It took weeks to find even a single article, but eventually he tracked one down.

Six die in tragic bar fire in Milton.

The article contained details about the fire, the bar, the cause, and the victims, including photos of them. One of them, the performing musician, Amber McLain was the spitting image of Ember, stage makeup and all, even the guitar she was pictured with was exactly the same as Ember's.

He'd found her.

He'd really, truly found her.

Wes printed out the article. After a little more digging on the bar that had burned down, he also found a scan of a promotional poster for Ember's show that night, and he printed that out too. He slipped those, along with the CD he'd burned, and the printed out forum exchange, into a folder to bring to school.

"Guess what, Fenton, you asshole? I fucking did it!" Wes hollered when Danny walked into physics class.

"Did what?" Danny asked with a scoff. "If this is about proving I'm Phantom, I thought you said you gave that up."

"We both know you're Phantom, and I did give up proving it, but this isn't about that." Wes slapped the folder down on top of Danny's desk and dug his portable CD player out of his backpack. "Read it and weep, fucker. Not only did I figure out who Ember was before she died, I also got my hands on all five tracks of the only album she released while she was still alive." He put the CD into the player and turned it on.

The opening riff of "Running on Spite and Fumes" started playing from the portable player's single, shitty speaker, but the moment she started to sing, Ember's voice, or rather, Amber's voice was unmistakable.

"Holy shit, you actually did it," Danny said under his breath, looking down at the contents of the folder, his expression a mix of awe and horror.

"Is that a new Ember song?" asked Star from the front row.

"Actually, it's an old Ember song," Wes responded smugly. "I tracked down her real identity and got my hands on everything she released before she died. I'm gonna burn more copies later and sell 'em around school."

"Wes, can I talk to you?" Danny said. Snapping the folder closed, he grabbed the basketball player by the shirt and dragged him out of the classroom by force. "You can't do this."

"What? What do you mean?" Wes demanded, shoving Danny's hands off him.

"If Ember finds out you learned who she was in life and exposed her, she'll kill you," he said, waving the folder emphatically in front of him. "Bringing up a ghost's life or death is one of the biggest taboos in ghost culture. She won't just haunt you, she'll straight up murder you. Until you die."

"Oh, please." Wes crossed his arms. In all the time he'd spent trying to expose Danny as Phantom, Wes had studied up on ghosts and ghost culture quite intensely. He hardly considered himself an expert, but quite frankly, his knowledge was on par with some of the leaders in the field of ectology. "Her popularity will skyrocket once her old songs start circulating. Personal obsession trumps cultural taboo every time, we both know that."

"Not during the Truce," Danny refuted.

"Well, yes, obviously the Truce is an exception; it's the Truce," Wes said. "And I'm not so insensitive that I'm gonna tell everyone in school how she died, I just wanted to rub it in specifically your face that I figured it out, seeing as how you doubted me a few weeks ago." Danny narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Wes.

"You'd better not tell everyone," he said, but he took a step back. "And if you do, you don't get to implicate me in any of this, got it? I won't have her after me again now that we're not at each other's throats anymore." He shoved the folder to Wes' chest.

"Yeah, whatever." With that the two of them went back into the classroom, where pretty much everyone was listening intently to the tinny music still playing. Wes discreetly slipped his evidence folder into his backpack before anyone else could ask about it, and wrote down the names of people who came by his desk to tell him they wanted to buy a CD once he had them.

The next day, Wes started selling copies of the CD for ten bucks a pop. Within a week, he had enough money to buy himself a brand new camera to replace the one Danny had destroyed a few months back. He turned out to be right about Ember being cool with him selling her old songs, though she demanded he give her a copy. She was even a little nostalgic listening to them, and she almost cried when Wes told her he'd gotten them from an old fan of hers.

It got Wes thinking about what other ghosts might feel if he reminded them of their past. The next on his list, he decided, was the Box Ghost. Why him? Frankly, Wes just wanted to know what that guy's deal was.

[elvensorceress]

something more than seven sentences Sunday

tagged by @rogerzsteven @buddiefication @spotsandsocks @alyxmastershipper @dickley-buddie @kananjarus @messyhairdiaz @rewritetheending @ajunerose @hippolotamus @buddierights @shortsighted-owl @jobairdxx 💕

tagging @fatedbuddie @monsterrae1 @the-likesofus @thekristen999 @blutterlie @matan4il @mansikkaomenabanaani @spaceprincessem @fiona-fififi @heartbeatdiaz @finduilasclln @lostinabuddiehaze @bekkachaos @eddiescowboy 💕

idk what this is yet, it’s a surprise to everyone including me. but here, you can have what I have so far 😘

Buck is the first to know. Like with most anything else. 

Eddie says, “I’ve been thinking about— about maybe trying—” The words fail him because what doesn’t fail him these days. He has to try again in the middle of the locker room because he was the fucking dumbass who started saying these things at the end of their shift. 

Buck’s first shift back. 

Buck, of course, tips his head curiously, attentively, but if he wonders why these words are so difficult and why they taste like asphalt and storms and acidic sludge hospital coffee and sizzling burning flesh and desperation in Eddie’s mouth, he doesn’t say anything. He couldn’t know any of it anyway. 

“I’ve been thinking about dating again,” Eddie manages this time, and isn’t struck down by a bolt of lightning on the spot. Because they were already struck down by a single bolt of lightning, and it can’t happen twice. It can not ever happen again. It’s still there, fizzling under his skin, singing in his blood. It makes his flesh too hot too tense too tight too itchy too needy.

Buck’s face is somehow motionless, blank, without expression or reaction. Like the words struck him dead. Because things strike out of nowhere and they stop his heart and take his life and leave Eddie screaming himself hoarse to anything that might bring him back. 

“Yeah?” Buck says, like he’s interested, like he’s supportive. He’s always supportive. But he sounds lifeless. Neutral nothingness.

Eddie can’t really look at him, but affirms, “Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Now, it’s almost thoughtful. The soft, small sound that comes from him. Or doubtful? Maybe doubtful is a better description. Because Buck doesn’t sound like he believes it or comprehends it, and obviously no one in the world would expect it. 

Eddie doesn’t even know how it came out of his mouth. 

How did it come out of his mouth?

“Yeah, no,” Buck says. Contradictions and ambivalence. Ambiguity. “I get it. I-I mean you’ve been alone and— and single now for—” He pauses and likely attempts math in his head. His forehead scrunches and his eyebrows narrow and he touches one fingertip to the other fingertips on one hand like he’s counting. “For a long time? So. Yeah. Makes sense. You, uh, you want help setting up some profiles and picking out dating apps?” He shuts his locker door and it’s a very loud, very harsh clash that jitters and grates over Eddie’s frayed nerves. 

“No,” because how can he not add his own contradictions and ambivalence. “God, no.”

Buck scoffs then gives him a wide, amused, slightly mocking smile. One that’s too stiff but also too knowing. “It’s not a weird, rare thing anymore, old man. Lots of people meet through dating apps. Most of them I bet. That’s what they’re there for.”

Eddie scoffs back at him because he can. “Yeah. I’m sure that is what they’re there for.” 

At least the amusement doesn’t fade. Nothing of him should ever fade. Nothing of him should ever be lost. Nothing should die nothing should die nothing should die. “Hey, not all of them are for hookups. Some are legit. I can help. I know a ton of them.” 

He walks to the doorway where Eddie is standing and then he’s too close and freshly showered and smells sweet and clean and alive and vibrant, and Eddie would fall to his knees and offer worship this second if it meant feeling him alive, always keeping that bright beautiful spark cradled in his hands no matter how it burns. 

“Unless of course you don’t care and want all the options?” Buck says with such nonchalance? As if anything about it could ever be apathetic indifference? 

He’s lucky Eddie can’t touch him because that at least deserves a fist to his arm. But touching can’t happen. Touching burns, destroys, hurts, aches with how it presses on wounds and digs into scar tissue and ignites fire in his blood. Eddie levels him with a glare instead. “I said dating. I was thinking about dating not fucking around.”

Buck laughs something hollow and mirthless. “Same difference.”

“It is not. Not to me.” 

Buck rolls his eyes. “Okay. Whatever. Have fun bar hopping and bothering people in the middle of a grocery store or whatever the old-fashioned way is. Oh! Maybe Chim and Hen and Bobby and everyone should know about your plight and they can set you up on blind dates. That’s a good, old school form of dating, right? I could probably even text Taylor just to say hi and see if she has any ideas of someone for you.”

What in the unholy fucking spawn of hell? Eddie sticks a vicious finger in front of Buck’s face and only just manages to not snarl, “You breathe a word of this to anyone, especially the soul-sucking ex-demon and I will—”

“You’ll what?” Buck quirks an eyebrow and chuckles like the petulant brat he was when they first met. “Kill me dead? Sorry, you’re too late for that. Already died. Already came back. Still here. Didn’t work.” 

It’s so fucking chipper and derisive, and Eddie might legit hate him for a good three seconds. 

If he could ever hate someone he needs and craves and adores and misses and could breathe like oxygen and worship more than any deity because Buck is life-giving sunshine and soul-sustaining joy and every word that could ever be synonymous with love. 

But he is a self-deprecating jerk sometimes. Still casually dismissive of his worth. As if he didn’t have a whole horde of people falling apart and shattering over nearly losing him. 

So, Eddie does what he was taught any parent should do when confronted with this kind of negative attention-seeking, destructive, self-hatred. He stops the way he wants to scream and grab him and shake him until he fucking understands. He gives him nothing but his own cold, dead expressionless non-reaction, tells him, “Not funny.” And walks out without another word. 

Buck is extra sweet and extra behaved and extra soft the next time Eddie sees him, when he comes over for dinner and playing games with Chris. 

But that doesn’t help Eddie either. 

[mi-rae07]

Song Mingi : What I Deserve (Part 2/3)

Pairing : Song Mingi (Ateez) and named character (Oh Mina)

______________________

A/n : Since ya'all asked for it, who am I to deny.

_______________________

Of all the states mingi had expected to see mina in, her covered in sweat and mud while wearing farmer's clothes were not it. Mina had always been the perfect woman, hair always slicked back into a high ponytail with not a single stray hair strand, not a crease to be seen in any of her dresses and her entire self always neat and tidy. But this mina, the one in front of mingi right now, was so much more different.

Mina : you…how…what?

Mingi : why the hell did you leave and come all the way here, mina?

Mina : to avoid…this.

Mingi : really? And you couldn't have just asked me to stay away from you without giving up your title of being prosecutor?

Mina : mingi, what are you doing here.

Mingi : I've been trying to find you for years, mina. Two whole fucking years, and I see you here, covered in mu-

Mingi cut himself off with a small breath, looking up at mina as he asked

Mingi : what are you right now?

Mina : a farmer.

Mingi : a farmer?

Mina : yes, I farm the field of land that I own.

Mingi : the one that belonged to your parents?

Mina : yes, yes that one. But why does that matter, mingi. You must…you have to leave.

Mingi : I didn't come all the way here to just leave like that.

Mina : what?

Mingi : I'm…on vacation.

Fuck, mingi thought. What the hell was he saying.

Mina : a-alright?

Mingi : and I wish to stay here.

Mina flinched at that, looking at mingi as if he had gone crazy.

Mina : here?

Mingi : in this village, at least. But yes, I wanna live here.

Mina : there are tons of good hotels a few minutes away from here, mingi. That-

Mingi : I've been to good hotels my entire life, I wanna see how this goes now.

Mina : I don't know any places here for you to stay at, I'm sorry.

Mingi : yes you do.

Mina : really. Where?

Mingi nodded towards the inside of her house, making mina's eyes widen in shock. That would be a nightmare.

Mina : no, no.

Mingi : no as in you don't know your house?

Mina : no! no as in you cannot live here.

Mingi : and why not?

Mina : mingi what are you saying. Do you not…do you not remember what happened?

Mingi : what does that have anything to do with this?

Mina : mingi-

Mingi : I'm not here because I love you or want you back, mina. I'm here because I'm on vacation and I thought I could take this time to persuade you to come back to Seoul and take your position back, as well as enjoy my time here.

Mina : I don't want to come back to Seoul.

Mingi : I know, which is why I've come here to convince you otherwise. And in the meantime I need somewhere to stay. So either you let me inside your house or I ask one of your ahjummas to let me in instead.

Mina stared at mingi for a while, being at a loss of words. Of all the things she had expected to happen this year, letting her ex-husband sleep in her house that she had ran away to after cheating on him, wasn't one. And moreover…

Mina stopped her chain of thoughts as the sound of a child crying cut through them, making mingi's eyes widen in shock.

Mingi : is that…is that a child crying inside your house?

Mina shut her eyes tightly, cursing every god that ever existed. Why was her luck so fucking rotten?

Mina : mingi, listen-

Mingi : no, no no that's…is that his child?

Although mingi wasn't anyone to mina anymore, the thought of mina having the child of the man who caused their separation stabbed mingi right through his heart.

Mina : what? No. no, that's not that man's child.

Mina would've rather died than raised that child.

Mingi : then, you have someone else now?

She wished.

Mina : mingi no, this is not my child. It's one of my friend's baby and she left her here for a few weeks since they've both gone to Ilsan for an event.

Lies, all lies but mingi didn't have to know.

Mingi : you look after babies now?

Mina : if needed, yes. I'm sort of…this village's babysitter, you can say.

Mingi looked at mina, looking as if he still found that hard to believe. But before his thoughts could go any further mina shook her head, stepping aside as she said

Mina : you know what, come in. I'll let you stay here.

Anything to not let him know.

Mina : just…stay here I'll go check on Minji and come right back.

Mina rushed away from mingi, making him stare at her in confusion as to why she had suddenly agreed to the idea. He looked around the living room of the house he was in right now, it's interiors making mingi feel as if he were at home. There weren't much expensive things around in here, unlike in the house mingi and mina once used to share. But every object here seemed to have some sort of a value, and when all of it was put together, it looked beautiful.

Mingi looked towards the staircase that was a bit away from him, the staircase mina had gone up through. And so he walked towards it, climbing up as he looked around the corridor. There seemed to be 4 doors, and only one of it was opened. Probably where mina was right now.

Mingi walked towards it, pausing right in front of the doorway as his eyes landed on mina who was cradling a baby in her arms, trying to woo it to sleep while the baby just continued to stare at her face with small giggles.

Adorable, mingi thought. He had never seen mina with children when he was with her. And now that he was looking at how adorable mina looked like with babies, he wished he had realized before.

Mina : oh, you're here?

Mingi walked towards the both of them, looking at the baby who was now staring at mingi with confused eyes. She was beautiful, and for some reason she reminded him of mina. But maybe that was just because mingi missed seeing mina, that should be the only explanation for this since this was someone else's baby.

Mingi touched the baby's cheek with his hand, making her coo as she looked up at mingi with shining eyes.

Mina : mingi.

Mingi : give her to me.

Mina : what?

Mingi : let me try getting her to sleep, since your ways are clearly not working right now.

Mina sighed and handed the baby over to mingi, making him smile as he held minji in his arms. Mina watched as mingi rocked the baby slowly, whispering sweet nothings and patting her back gently as minji's eyes slowly started drooping. And soon enough, she was lying deep asleep in her crib.

Mina : I didn't know you were good with babies.

Mingi : I didn't know it either.

_______________________

Mina : how long are you going to stay here?

Mingi looked up from his bowl of ramen, chuckling as he said

Mingi : not rude at all, miss oh.

Mina : you're the one who showed up unannounced to my house at 10pm in the night, you tell me.

Mingi : the attitude never changes, does it?

Mina sighed, leaning back against her chair as she said

Mina : mingi-

Mingi : what did you do for your birthday today, mina?

Mina : my…I did nothing.

Mingi : don't you have friends here?

Mina : except they don't my birthday. And I dislike celebrating something I hate so much.

Mingi : you didn't used to hate your birthday 2 years ago though, did you?

Mina : 2 years ago was different. I'm a different person now.

Mingi : how different are you?

Mina : what?

Mingi : would the mina now still have chosen to cheat on me the way 2 years ago mina did?

Mina flinched at his words, the memory hitting her like a truck. Mingi didn't know the amount of times mina had cried and broken down after she left that house, he didn't know the things she had to go through, or the amount of pain she had been in for that entire year. But then again, he was under no obligation to be knowing all that. This was her fault and her burden.

Mina : have you come to torment me about it? Because if you have-

Mingi : I don't care about it enough to torment you anymore, mina-shi. You know what I've come here for, I need you back in Seoul.

Mina : why. Why do you want to take me back into that city, hmm?

Mingi : because I need you to be a prosecutor again. I need you to prosecute a case of mine.

Mina : what? You have a case?

Mingi : it's not mine, it's my sister's. she's been accused of attempted murder.

Mina sat back against her chair with a breath, shocked. She knew how much mingi used to hate his sister, and how he would've rather died than be reunited with her ever again. He would tell mina about his sister every single day, about how she had cheated their parents and ran away with a huge sum of money, leaving mingi's family in ruins.

Mina : you want me to save your sister?

Mingi nodded, finishing up his ramen as he said

Mingi : consider it a sort of…retribution for the damage you had once inflicted on me.

Retribution, that child upstairs was a living proof of mina's retribution. Except she couldn't say that to mingi.

Mina : then when I'm done with the case, can I move back here? You won't need me to stay there anymore once I save your sister, right?

Mingi : yes. Yes, you can come back here after the case is completely closed.

Mina : so you came all the way here, just to use me as a puppet in order to save your sister, mingi?

Mingi : mhmm.

Mina smiled, looking away from mingi as she whispered

Mina : you really have changed.

Mingi : you changed me, mina. Your actions in past and the difference it made to my life, that's what changed me into this person I am. So if there's really anyone to blame-

Mina : it's me. I'm the one to blame. Because this is what I deserve.

Mingi stared at mina as she sighed and stood up, looking straight at mingi.

Mina : I need time to think about this, but I will provide you with an answer before you leave. That I promise, although my promises do not have much value to you anymore.

Mingi : then that's all I need.

____________________________

Mina placed the bowl of cereals on the dining table, mingi playing with a giggling minji who was sitting in her baby chair, excited for food. Mina smiled at the sight, realizing now that minji had gotten his smile, that beautiful smile mina had always loved. She could only hope mingi couldn't find the similarity.

Mina : here's your breakfast.

Mingi mumbled a thank you before pulling the bowl towards him, chuckling at minji already whining from the lack of attention.

Minji : m-mama.

Mina : yes yes, I'm bringing your food.

Mingi : she calls you mama?

Mina paused at that, looking up at mingi as she tried to come up with a proper excuse for that.

Mina : she calls everyone mama. It's the only word she's able to say apart from dada.

Mingi : cute.

Mina smiled and sat down next to minji, feeding her carefully. Minji was already a fan of food, she would eat any food with such enthusiasm. In that way she was like her mother.

Mingi : what are we doing today?

Mina : minji's going to be put under the care of one of my ahjummas while I work in the field. What you do today, is up to you.

Mingi : I'll come to the field with you today then.

Mina looked up at mingi, partly confused. She had never imagined mingi to be someone who liked being out in the fields.

Mingi : for the experience. I've never done farming before.

Mina sighed, feeding minji another spoonful of breakfast as she whispered

Mina : fine.

__________________

Mingi : can't we go back already?

Mina : there's still a little bit more work-

Mingi : ah but it's 8pm already! We've been working for 9 hours, mina.

Of course mingi was tired and whining, he hadn't changed all that much from the mingi mina once used to know.

Mina : nobody's asking you to stay with me, mingi. You can go back and take minji from ahjumma if you like.

Mingi : and you?

Mina : I'll do this alone as I have for the past 2 years.

Mingi sighed in resignation, throwing his tool away as he plopped down on the ground, not caring about the mud that would get on him. He looked up at mina as he said

Mingi : I'm not leaving.

Mina : why?

Mingi : because it's night, mina. There can be a thousand different dangers out here.

Mina looked down at mingi in shock, her heart lightening at his concern. So he still cared about her not dying.

Mina : I-

Mingi : not that I care, but you need to be alive to prosecute my case.

Mina pressed her lips together, looking away with a nod as she continued her work. Of course.

Mingi : isn't this hard?

Mina : the work?

This work had already tired mingi to the core within merely a day, he wasn't even sure he could get up tomorrow morning anymore. And mina had been doing this for two whole years now, all alone.

Mingi : yes. Isn't being a prosecutor much easier for you?

Mina : it might be much easier but it was never as peaceful as this.

Mingi : does this pay a lot, then?

Mina : not everything's about money, mingi. This pays enough to carry on my life comfortably. And as for now, that's enough for me.

Mingi : just for you? You don't plan to be with anyone else, then?

Mina chuckled, shaking her head as she said

Mina : I don't feel worthy enough to be loved by someone, mingi.

Mingi stared at mina as she said with a small smile

Mina : you know what they say. A person who did it once can always do it again.

Mingi : except people don't know what you've done.

Mina : but I do. And that self-realization is enough for me to push my life into that of solitariness. It's what I deserve.

Mingi hated the way mina kept saying she deserved nothing but things as harsh as this.

Mingi : aren't I the one who's supposed to decide what you deserve?

Mina looked at mingi, keeping her tool down as she sat on the ground as well, deciding to halt her works for today.

Mina : what do you think I deserve, then.

Mingi : not this. Forcing yourself to live a life that you do not like isn't going to do anything for me, mina.

Mina : you're supposed to hate me.

Mingi : I do.

Mina : people who hate someone aren't supposed to say things like these, you know?

Mingi sighed, leaning back against the ground as he whispered

Mingi : I know.

__________________________

Mina took another sip of her soju, her cheeks already red from the amount of alcohol she had drank. But minji was long asleep and so was mingi, after a hard day of work. And it was 3am, mina couldn't sleep. She needed this desperately, especially after what mingi had told her.

She knew he had done him wrong, she knew she deserved no amount of care or love from him. But even then, she hadn't expected him to be so cool about using her for his own needs, without caring about her feelings. She knew she was being stupid, she had cheated on mingi after all without pausing to care about his feelings. But even then, it still hurt.

Mina flinched as she felt someone snatch the bottle of soju from her hand, making her frown as she looked up in annoyance.

Mingi : is this what you do now when you can't sleep?

Mina chuckled at mingi who was standing right in front of her, his eyes unclear.

Mina : you care now?

Mingi : there's a child in this house, mina. And I do not want her to see anyone this way at that age. So get yourself up-

Mingi cut himself off as mina stood up, her balance failing her as she stumbled on her step, she was drunk after all. But before she could fall, mingi held onto her, his arm wrapping around her waist securely.

Mingi : what the hell, mina.

Mina giggled, half drunk as she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered

Mina : you still feel so good.

Mingi : stop saying things like that.

Mina leaned closer to mingi, her breath fanning his lips as mingi tried not to flinch from the intensity of the feeling.

Mina : why, does it affect you, mingi?

Mingi : mina.

Mina : do you have any idea how much I regret what I did to you that night? Well, I thought my begging on my knees in front of you that night would've showed you things, but apparently not.

Mingi : you cheated on me, if anything you deserved that.

Mingi paused in shock as mina lowered herself to the ground suddenly, resting her head on the floor as she held onto mingi's legs, almost replicating the scene 2 years ago.

Mina : do I deserve this too? Will you even think of forgiving me for what I did if I do this?

Mingi : get up.

Mina shook her head, tears filling her eyes as the alcohol drained her of the ability to think straight

Mina : I'm sorry.

Mingi : mina. Mina, stop-

Mina : I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do any of that, I never meant to hurt you. You've always meant the most to me, mingi. And when you left me, it shattered me. I have no idea how I'm still even able to function-

Mingi tried kneeling down, trying to stop mina from doing all this. But she only shook her head again with a small whimper, continuing with her words

Mina : no. No, you need to know. You need to know that I've went through hell and back for what I did to you. You need to know that I cried myself to sleep every single day after you left. You need to know that none of what I did was because of you. You were perfect, you are perfect and there's no one else in this world I'd rather have had as my partner. You didn't deserve what I did to you-

Mingi : mina please, please stop.

Mingi felt tears fill his eyes from the sudden overflow of emotions, mina's head still turned away from him

Mina : it's all my fault. I should've been better, I should've known better.

Mingi : no. no, shh, mina stop.

Mina sobbed as mingi pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her upper body as she cried into his chest desperately. Mingi placed his hand against the back of her head, trying to stop her from crying as he whispered

Mingi : stop crying, stop doing all this to me mina.

Mina : I'm so sorry.

Mingi : I know, I know please.

Mina : I've never…never stopped loving you even for a single moment.

Mingi shut his eyes tightly, tears sliding down his cheeks as mina gripped his shirt tight in her hands and said

Mina : but you could never love me again, because you could never forgive me. I…I destroyed everything.

Mingi couldn't say anything to that, because he had no understanding as to what he felt towards the woman in front of him. And so mingi held onto a crying mina, holding her close to him in hopes that he could mend her broken heart. But it was of no use, not when she was being so stubborn.

All mingi could do was hope she wouldn't remember any of this when she woke up the next day.

____________________________

Spoiler alert : Mina did not, in fact, remember any of what she had said or done last night.

____________________________

2 weeks later :

Mingi : yah! How long are you going to take in that shower oh mina!

Mina : aish, I just got in mingi, let me be.

Mingi : I need to use it as well!

Mina : there are other bathrooms-

Mingi : I prefer this one.

Mina : don't be a brat, song mingi.

Mingi : BRAT-

Mingi paused as he felt someone tug at his pants, turning around as his eyes landed on minji who was smiling him with those eyes that he knew too well by now. Mingi chuckled and picked her up from the ground, booping minji's nose as he said

Mingi : does my princess want attention again?

Minji : yaya.

Mingi cooed at how adorable she was being, rocking her gently as he whispered

Mingi : do you wanna play with your toys then?

Minji nodded at mingi, making him giggle as he carried minji to her nursery here. Apparently it had been built since mina babysits a lot of children here, or so she had said to mingi. Mingi had no choice but to believe it.

It had been two weeks since he'd come here and mingi had begun to understand why mina liked this place so much. The people were amazing, and the food was even better. The pollution and noises were less and so were the headaches mingi would usually have from how fast his city life went. This place was a sanctuary for him. He knew he couldn't stay for long but even then, he never wanted to leave.

Mingi had also, gotten much closer to mina and so had she. They'd talk like friends would, although some topics were tactfully avoided by both parties. They'd drink together, watch movies together, work in the fields together and mina would show mingi around the place as well. It was amazing. And minji only made it all ten times better.

Mingi now placed minji on the floor, her quickly going over to her cupboards to find her Barbies. Except one of them was missing, and she was nagging at mingi to bring her that in her own way. So mingi went around the nursery, opening shelves mina had specifically asked him to stay away from. And just like that he opened a particular shelf at the back of the room, his eyes landing on the documents kept in it safely. And out of curiosity, he pulled one out, his eyes scanning through the details. But as soon as he saw what it was, he felt his eyes widen, his legs almost giving up on him. It was minji's birth certificate. Except the details were anything but what mingi expected to ever see.

Name : Song Minji

Mother : Oh Mina

Father : Song Mingi

The paper fell from mingi's now trembling hand, tears filling his eyes as realization dawned upon him. Mina had been pregnant when mingi left her, and that was probably the reason she ran away from Seoul without telling anyone, because of their daughter.

Mingi felt minji tug at his pants again, hugging it with her chubby arms as she whispered, looking up at him with eyes he was now sure she had gotten from mina

Minji : d…dada?

____________________________

[aphroditestempleimagines]

The Obsidianite Jewel

A fem!reader x Chevalier Michel Fanfiction

Chapter 12 -> Chapters Masterlist

Words: a fuck ton this time

Warnings: graphicness, war, wounds, death, language etc

Summary: It all started when your fiancé, Prince Gilbert, brought you to the palace of Rhodolite. He hoped he would find the secrets of the princes. Instead, he lost your heart to the brutal beast. However, Gilbert is not going to let your heart wander away easily

"They say they found Eyepatch", Nokto ran to Chevalier's tent early the next day.

The tiger who was used to not leaving its bed until the sun was high up in the sky, rose from its sleep immediately. Grabbing the sword from under his pillow he wasted no time, putting a mere pair of trousers over his dress shirt before rushing to where they kept the captives. Nokto ran behind him. He called his name once or twice, but Chevalier ignored him. It did not matter what else he had to say. Nothing would avert the inevitable clash, the sole possible resolution in this bloody conflict.

There was commotion up ahead. Chevalier could hear the clanging of swords as he quickened his step. He turned around the corner to see her, y/n, holding a longsword with both of her hands and pointing it at his knights. Her hair was a mess and still damp, as were her clothes. Her skirt was ripped over one leg to allow movement. One of her wrists was still tied with the remains of a rope. She heaved as she stood guard in front of an unconscious Gilbert.

Her eyes met his. Relief washed over them for a moment before the defensive gleam returned to them. She took a step back, sword raised towards him, her eyes trembling. But there was something in them that Chevalier knew that they would not waver if he challenged them, even if the heart behind them broke in the process. He glanced at the ground behind her. Gilbert was breathing unevenly, his ebony hair stuck on his face, his eyepatch gone.

"Leave", he ordered. There was a moment of silence, but he merely had to look at his knights for them to realise he had directed the order to them. They swiftly obeyed, the ones that were not injured helping those that were. "You too", Chevalier said to Nokto without taking his eyes away from Gilbert and y/n.

"What are you going to do?", his brother simply asked. Chevalier gave him no answer. His piercing gaze turned on him, warning him not to press the matter further. Nokto looked at y/n. He sighed. "Don't be yourself for once", he murmured before he left the three of them alone.

Y/n lowered her sword, but her grip was still tight, ready to strike. The cluttering of armour died out as Nokto and the soldiers disappeared into the depths of the camp. Only the light rustling of the river beside them broke the silence between them. Chevalier could already guess how she had come to be here. Gilbert must have dragged her along, making himself to be the saint. Sick minds enjoy finding excuses for their actions. Chevalier recognised himself for the monster that he was. One would think he was ill of the exact opposite nature, denying his humanity when an expression of it was right in front of his nose.

She was so beautiful, he thought to himself. He had never been able to appreciate beauty as much before, focusing on a thing's or a person's practicality. Yet as she stood there, hair and clothes out of place, eyes ablaze with determination, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The only woman he could appreciate in such a meaningless way.

He fiddled with his belt until it was loose. Y/n grabbed the sword tighter. can't be put into words how much that small gesture hurt him even if he never blamed her for it. he took out his sword scabbard and threw it away into the buses next to her, where she could see it but he could not reach it.

"Why did you do that?", she asked.

"You answer me first", said Chevalier, "How did you end up like this?"

She gritted her teeth. "Don't go there", she said.

"So the fault lies with him indeed", Chevalier connected the dots, "Then why are you protecting him?"

His voice remained unexpressionate, but the human inside him threatened to intervene the more words came out of his mouth.

"Because you want to kill him", she whispered. Her gaze was lowered, apologetic.

"That would be the wisest course of action", he replied, "You can't argue about the effectiveness of the method"

"I won't allow it"

She was a princess in her own right. She had no obligation to be allied or loyal to Rhodolite. But still, if she allied herself with Gilbert, even out of necessity, Chevalier would have no choice but to...

He clenched his fists. He scoffed and mocked his own foolishness in front of her confused eyes. He could not do that. He could never do that. He could never do anything to hurt her, not any more. How utterly pathetic.

"Think reasonably", he said, "You're skilled with the blade. But you're in a camp full of knights. It is unthinkable to want to fight"

"I don't care"

That scolding determination that he had found so beautiful at the beginning was now burning him from the inside out. "I won't keep you", Chevalier began, "I won't hold you as a prisoner nor will I have you do anything against your will". He took a big breath. His eyes were glaciers as he stared at her. "But if you want to take him away alive", he said, "you will have to kill me".

Her hand trembled. Her eyes watered. His heart ached for uttering those words, but he was so happy that she was at least hesitating. Truthfully, to fall from her sword would be one of the best ways to go. His heart would long for her blade if he indeed had to go against her. The human inside him feared the monster he concealed, who would put duty over anything else. But that man was real, and Chevalier cursed him as he watched her raise her blade.

She stayed like that for a few moments. Then she let it fall to the ground, hands covering her face. Chevalier let out a heavy breath. He could not kill Gilbert. It would not be beneficial to do so anyway, since they fished him alive. But, most importantly, he could not become the monster she claimed he was not. As long as she believed he was more than just a pawn of his own duty, then he could believe in it as well. His dreary days were filled with the hope of humanity, something he thought he had lost even before his mother passed away.

He took a step toward her and extended his hand. "We can find a way", he said, "We can end this war without..."

His eyes fell upon the ground next to her feet, or rather what was not there anymore. But it was too late. He felt his own blade pierce him from behind. Gilbert breathed heavily over his shoulder. He had been so preoccupied that he let his guard down. Y/n raised her head. A terrified expression was painted over her face. A lone tear fell from Chevalier's eye. To the person who had never cried before it was as much as the waterful that poured from y/n eyes. She cried his name. Gilbert thrust the sword to its hilt onto the second prince's torso. Chevalier fell to his knees. Gilbert followed him. The black tiger coughed uncontrollably, spraying more red on the white tiger's already bloodied white shirt.

"I hate you", Gilbert laughed between coughs on Chevalier's shoulder, "I truly fucking hate you"

Y/n dropped in front of him. She tore her skirt and wrapped the fabric around the sword, closing Chevalier's wound as best she could. She was murmuring something about a physician. He would need one to remove the sword correctly. Her hands clutched his cheeks. Their warmth was the only thing keeping him away from Orpheus' realm. Gilbert had missed his vital spots, which meant that if he could stop the bleeding he would probably be fine. But she still cried as if he was dying.

"I knew it", Gilbert said, "I fucking knew it"

He flopped onto the ground on his back, laughing as he coughed more blood. The rustling of people filled the air. Nokto had heard something from the commotion between them and ran back with a group of knights. They restrained Gilbert, even though he did not put up a fight. Nokto called for the palace doctor, who accompanied Chevalier's troop. He stood mortified as his brother was treated, likely never having expected Chevalier to be in this position in the first place. The rest was a haze. Chevalier felt y/n hands comb down his hair as the doctor pulled out the sword. He was not about to show any discomfort or pain in front of his soldier, but he still clutched y/n's skirt. He could feel her tears wet his cheek as she brushed his hair. Nokto had taken Gilbert and the rest of the knights away.

"Don't stand, your Majesty", the doctor said, "it will"

"Increase the blood loss", Chevalier completed, "I know".

"Your Highness could you please remove his shirt?", the doctor was sterilizing the bandages in the pot of hot water he had carried with him.

Y/n's hands trembled as they undid Chevalier's buttons. Chevalier brought his hands to undo them himself, but he only managed to fiddle among them. He could not see well, and his head was starting to get dizzy. His inability seemed to motivate y/n and she managed to undo the rest of the buttons herself.

The doctor was quick to patch him up. Y/n pressed the gauze the doctor gave her onto the wound on his front as the former was wrapping the bandage around Chevalier's torso. A couple of soldiers carried a stretcher. Y/n's hands slipped from his as he was carried back to camp. His eyes caught Clavis before he was brought into his tent. For someone who tried to kill him every year and plotted with the man who had stabbed him, he certainly seemed very concerned. "How foolish", Chevalier thought, "He could at least make up his mind". And that was when sleep finally overpowered him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Chevalier opened his eyes again he was laying inside his tent. Y/n was sleeping, head resting on her arms as she knelt next to his bed. She looked very peaceful, but her eyes were too red. He reached out to her. He stopped his hand right before it touched her cheek. He recalled the warm memory of her hands clinging to him. But now that peace was restored after the event, reason would have returned.

After months she was just inches away. He wanted to stretch his hand a little further and brush his hands upon her skin, yet that small distance that separated them seemed the hardest to leap over. Whatever they were to each other, no matter whatever feelings he had begun to harbour for her, they were more than just people. They were political figures, bound by the responsibilities of royalty. Her engagement to Gilbert was what kept her country safe, much like his potential marriage to a noble lady would be arranged to serve a similar purpose. Even if he gave in and asked her to give everything up and be with him she would not. No. He would never put her in the position to make such a dreadful choice.

He opened his eyes widely. Gilbert was their prisoner now, it came back to him. He sat up. The stirring woke y/n. She took a few seconds trying to open her tired eyes but eventually, they focused on him.

"What are you doing?", she put her hand on his chest, lightly pressing him back down, "You need rest"

"I'm fine", said Chevalier, "I have work to do"

She caught his hand. "Are you insane?", she said, "You nearly bled to-"

He cupped her cheek and brought his lips to her forehead. She caught her breath as he placed a single kiss. He brushed his thumb on her flushed skin. She wanted him almost as much; How in the world had he convinced himself otherwise? She'd be free soon enough. Free to choose her own life without the Obsidian threat defining it. Free to be with him, if she would have him, or free to make her own path in her country by herself. Whatever the case might be, he would make sure she would be given the choice.

"I won't exert myself", he said, "I know my limits".

Her cheeks were red when he left her in the tent. It was a trivial thing, but that image occupied his thoughts for the rest of the day.

He took care of the batalions' positions first. If Gilbert washed out in the shores of their camp it meant that the people looking for him were not far behind. They moved to the mountains, in a fortress that was easily defended by their small force. As he passed by the kitchen he saw y/n mix some sort of potion. He frowned. She poured it onto the food that was intended for Gilbert, her eyes saddened. He did not stop her, neither did he stop the food as it passed him by. The smell of ginger was subtle, but there.

After he finished his work, he found himself outside the fortress' dungeons, where the Obsidinite prince was kept. He placed his hand where the sword had pierced him. With his head high, he entered the room.

Gilbert was crouched at the far back of the cell, in the furthest possible place from his tray of food. He did not seem to have touched it. The door cluttered closed behind Chevalier, and that was enough to catch Gilbert's attention.

"Haaah...", he chuckled, "Shame. You're still kicking"

"You missed my vitals", Chevalier replied coldly.

"Guess I did", Gilbert let his head fall back as smiled, "Foolish me"

He stopped as he fell into a frenzy of coughing. He covered his mouth with his dirty handkerchief. He must had done it too many times since he was brought there since he could not hide the red on the once-white piece of fabric any longer.

"You're sick", Chevalier said once Gilbert regained his breath, "You have been for a while now, haven't you?"

"Excellent observation", said Gilbert, "Full marks"

"It's acting up. Did you stop taking your medicine?"

Gilbert laughed. "And why do you care?", he said, "Did you want to keep me alive to watch as you took everything from me? Was screwing my fiancee not enough?"

Chevalier's gaze narrowed. The black tiger was not himself. Sometime between the moment he left Rhodolite and the day they captured him, he lost hold of the pillar that was keeping him from collapsing. And yet, he had not lost his touch when it came to words. His last sentence grated on Chevalier more than anything else.

"Rejoice", Gilbert said, "You were right. Emotion is the most disastrous thing there is for a royal, and love is the worst one of all"

That was what Chevalier had once claimed. Yet he could not do so anymore.

"You have everything", Gilbert said, "I lost. And the worst part is you don't understand the most important thing you took from me"

"No one can take anyone from someone", Chevalier said, "You either lost them or never had them in the first place"

Gilbert grabbed the small cup they had brought water for him in and threw it at the cage's iron bars. The sound echoed in the stone walls of the basement. "Do you think you've won?", Gilbert said, "My father will not stop even if it means letting me die"

"I do not doubt that", said Chevalier, "I'm sure he would if he were still alive"

Gilbert was left astonished. Then he suddenly burst out laughing, a laugh that turned once again into a cough. "How did you know?", he asked once it died out.

"You're not the only one who employs spies"

"I seriously need to do some cleaning up then", Gilbert smiled before he added his last words, "Your Majesty"

Chevalier frowned. The doctor had let it slip as he treated him.

"That poor little bunny", said Gilbert, "Did you scare her into crowning you king?"

"I am not concerned with matters as trivial as titles"

"No you're not", Gilbert said, "So what now? Now that you know who I am"

Chevalier held onto one of the cell's bars as he sat on his heels. "Now it's over. Obsidian has lost the war"

"Do you really expect me to believe you'll stop now?", Gilbert said, "You are determined to unite the kingdoms under your rule. Do you want me to believe you'll quit this dream entirely?"

"That was not a dream but a mere consequence of a plan to protect this continent from you"

"From my father", Gilbert sneered, "That's what this continent needed protecting from. My father, and afterwards from you."

"Mere conquest and exploitation was never my objective"

"Spare me, I know who you are", said Gilbert, "You're as much of a monster as I am. Different kind, maybe. But just as hideous". His eyes pierced Chevalier like daggers. The tears that fell could have burnt a forest down all by themselves. "But she's not", he said.

"Is that why you <<missed>>?"

"I kill you and I hurt her", Gilbert said, "But you see, if I don't kill you, eventually you will be the one who'll hurt her."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, that's exactly so", Gilbert sneered these words before continuing, "You don't change. You'll never change. And you'll never love her. You won't because you can't. I don't care what kind of strategic ploy you have in mind that concerns her, but that is enough"

"You're in no position to make threats"

"Then kill me", he said, "Go ahead. That's the only way to truly be rid of me. The only way to stay alive"

"I thought you didn't want to hurt y/n", said Chevalier, "But it seems you just want to die"

Gilbert laughed again. "Screw you", he said, "Do you really think me dying will hurt her? It will more likely be the solution to all of her problems, and yours"

"Can't argue with that either", Chevalier said. He pushed the tray of food further inside the cell. He nodded towards it, urging Gilbert to eat it.

"Ha, is that what this is?", said Gilbert, "You actually did come to kill me". He took a bit of the porridge that had been cold for way too long by now. He frowned as he passed it around in his mouth. "This is"

"Your medicine I'm guessing", said Chevalier, "I saw y/n lace your food. Poison or treatment, I would not had stopped her. She has a reason to use either and both"

Chevalier got back on his feet. "Why did you tell me this?", Gilbert stopped him, "Why did you let her do this? Why do you care all of a sudden?"

Chevalier heard Gilbert's questions one by one without ever facing him again. "You said it yourself", he replied. "We are the same kind of monster. Plagued by the same troubles. Torn by the same burdens. Tied by the same strings. I know very well what she means to you. I know selfishness is a human emotion, and I understand how hard it was for you to keep the blade from my heart. And I will never say this again but", he turned to meet Gillbert's eyes, "I'm sorry. As it turns out I'm more human than I thought".

He took pride in that realization. Never before would he have thought such a thing to be possible; for him to accept being human as something to be proud and praised for. But she was. And she was possibly the only person in his life who saw him as such as well. If he were to lose her, it would not be by his hand.

"Chevalier", Gilbert called out to him again, "I hate you"

There was a knock on the door.

"Yeah. I'd hate me too", said Chevalier. And with that, he left Gilbert to the care of the newly arrived Sariel and went upstairs to meet with his brothers and inform them of their next steps.

[captainsophiestark]

The Dread Pirate Roberts

Westley x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​ which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out if you haven’t already!

Also, this fic wasn’t a request, but I’m dedicating it to @auroracalisto​ who is my fellow Princess Bride fangirl searching desperately for fic with me

Fandom: The Princess Bride

Prompt: Poseidon; Sea, Water, Storms

Summary: Prince Humperdinck has set his sights on Y/N to marry, but she can't simply forget the love of her life, Westley, and give that up for a life with the prince. So, she decides to run, taking a boat and setting sail for new horizons like her farm boy did so long ago.

Word Count: 3,192

Category: Angst and fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I glanced back over my shoulder one last time as I undid the last of the lines holding my boat to the dock. In the dead of night, I couldn't see much, but in the far distance the lights of the capital city of Florin stared back at me. This would likely be the last time I saw this place.

A few weeks ago, I'd been in town to do some shopping for my family, taking a bit of a rare adventure away from our farm. While I'd been walking through the market, a procession had ridden through on horseback. Among the group of young soldiers and officials was none other than Prince Humperdinck, apparently in the city to visit his subjects before going back behind the walls of his massive palace. By some strange stroke of luck, he'd seen me, and apparently decided I was someone he wanted to get to know.

We'd spent the rest of the day walking around the market, surrounded by his guards, talking and taking in the day. At first, I hadn't minded. What other opportunity would I get to speak with a prince, after all? I told him of the troubles I faced in the countryside, and about things I thought might help or fix them. He listened closely, and I thought I might actually be making a difference. He even invited me to return to the capital city and the palace in a few days' time to continue our conversations. Of course I'd said yes, excited that the prince had listened to me and wanted to hear more of what I had to say.

And then, when I arrived at the castle, he proposed to me. To make matters worse, it was clear from the minute I set foot in that place his proposal came out of a place of attraction to me physically, and absolutely nothing else.

I immediately knew I wanted nothing to do with him, especially not in that way. I'd already met the love of my life, and although I'd lost him when he went off to sea and left my family farm, my love for him had never faded. Perhaps, someday, I'd be willing to love someone else, but that day was not today, and no matter what I knew it wouldn't be love for Prince Humperdinck. However, there was no saying no to the Crown Prince. So, to escape the fate of the loveless life I surely faced if I agreed to marry him, I'd decided to leave this land once and for all.

I'd had very little time to make plans or preparations, since my window to escape Humperdinck was incredibly small. I'd managed to pull together some provisions and to secure a small boat, that hopefully I'd be able to sail on my own. I was no expert sailor, but I could get by well enough to leave the country. I'd had no time to tell my family or anyone else I cared about, but eventually, I'd decided that might be for the best. This way, they'd have deniability when people eventually came asking about where I'd gone or why I'd left.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then chucked the final tether ashore and away from me. I ran around, adjusting the rigging and sails on my small boat as I drifted out of the harbor. There was a light wind tonight, perfect for helping me make my escape. The gods of the sea were watching out for me, or else my darling Westley, the love I'd lost to the sea, now acting as my guardian angel.

It was fitting, I supposed, that I'd eventually follow him out here. I hoped to find a new place to call home, somewhere no one knew me or my connections to the Prince of Florin, but nothing was guaranteed. This may well be the place I perished, to finally join Westley after he lost his life to the Dread Pirate Roberts.

I sat up all night, manning the lines and making sure my sails were always adjusted to catch the winds. I made good progress, leaving Florin in my wake, and eventually got comfortable enough that I could sleep for short periods of time in between making sure everything went smoothly. I'd actually managed to gather a decent amount of provisions, and I started to feel more hopeful about my prospects on this ship to find a new land.

At least, until a storm hit.

I woke up just after twilight on the third night since I'd left, being almost rocked out of my seat by the waves tossing my boat about. I shook my head, trying to clear it of the remaining sleep fog as the waves continued to grow around me. I swore as I looked to the horizon, only to find darker clouds and bigger waves. I was headed straight into the center of what appeared to be a very big storm.

I ran to the rigging, trying to change course. I wrestled the ship into a sharp right turn, thinking I could run along the edge of the storm until, hopefully, I past it. I'd never be able to outrun it by going back the way I came, and the odds of me finding the eye of the storm before I capsized were fairly low. I had no other way out.

I wrestled the rigging until my arms burned, and then found a way to keep going. Despite my best efforts, however, the storm only got worse around me. I clung to the ship, praying for a miracle or some way out of this, and then suddenly, I was underwater.

A massive wave must've finally managed to swamp my boat. I floated for a moment, letting my natural buoyancy show me which way was up so I didn't accidently swim further from the surface before I at last made my push upwards. I gasped once my head broke the surface, searching frantically for something to help keep me afloat.

I found a piece of my now-smashed ship not too far from me and swam towards it wildly, clinging onto it for dear life once I reached it. I frantically tried to come up with an idea to save myself, but I kept drawing a blank.

I was going to die here, tossed among the waves, resigned to a similar fate as my dear Westley. There was a certain poetry to that, I supposed, even as I fought back tears at the hopeless feeling now welling in my stomach.

Then, out of a break in the waves, I saw the mast of a ship coming closer to me. My heart leapt, and I started shouting and waving, doing my best to catch its attention. It was a far bigger ship than mine had been, meaning it hadn't lost its struggle with the massive waves around us. Maybe I had a hope of making it out of this after all.

That hope immediately died when I caught sight of the flag flying over the mast as the ship got closer to me and the wind changed. They were flying the Jolly Roger.

I stopped waving, debating mentally whether it was better to stay in the water or be caught by pirates, but apparently a decision had been made for me. They'd already seen me, and I could hear shouting and see people pointing to me as the ship came even closer. I braced myself, trying to be as ready as possible for whatever this new challenge brought. I had been the one who'd decided to run, after all, and I knew in my heart I didn't regret that decision one bit, no matter what this new hell might bring me.

Before I knew it, I'd been fished out of the water and hauled on deck. I quickly backed away from the men who'd gotten me on board, and although most of them didn't pay me any attention in the chaos of trying to keep the boat afloat, two followed me as my back came up against the main mast, halting me in my tracks.

The men stared at me as they stalked closer, and every muscle in my body went into fight or flight mode. The man a bit further back from me seemed to be taking cues from the other man, his eyes darting between me and who I assumed must be the leader. The leader, the one closest to me, was dressed in all black with a mask on his face, his ice blue eyes tracking my every movement. My heart stopped dead in my chest. I'd never seen him before, but I'd heard enough legends and stories to know beyond a shadow of a doubt who this man was.

Before me stood the Dread Pirate Roberts.

A fury like none I'd ever felt raged through me, replacing the panic and fear that came before. This man was responsible for the death of my Westley. I glared at him, putting the full force of my hate into the look, then glanced around for a sword or something else to attack him with. I'd most likely die on this ship anyway, so I might as well go out attempting to get some justice for my lost love.

"You! What were you doing out in this storm?" yelled the pirate over the waves. I glared back at him and ignored his question.

He waited a few long moments for my response, then huffed in irritation. He looked around at his crew and the storm still raging on all sides, then back at his first mate.

"Keep us from sinking! I'll be back!" he roared at the man behind him before turning back to me. The man rushed off to fulfill his orders, leaving me more or less alone with Westley's murderer.

Before I could even attempt to make a move for revenge, the pirate surged forward and grabbed me by the arm. His grip was like iron, and although I fought against him, I couldn't break away. He dragged me across the deck of the ship with surprising strength, up the stairs to the ship's wheel where a navigator wrestled against the wind and waves, and then through a door to what I assumed must be his private quarters. He shoved me into a chair as soon as we were through the door, slamming it behind us before turning back to me.

I moved to stand from the chair, but before I could, he had his sword at my throat. I glowered up at him as he spoke again, a deadly calm to his voice.

"Now, I'll ask you again–and I expect an answer this time. What were you doing out in that storm?"

I clenched and unclenched my fists, debating whether it would be worth it to answer or if I should just let him slit my throat. After a moment's hesitation, however, I decided I didn't really want to die if I could avoid it, especially not before I found some way to get even the slightest justice for Westley.

"I was escaping the hell of being married to a man I don't love, a monster second only to yourself," I hissed. The pirate stared back at me for a few moments, seemingly considering my words, then spoke.

"Explain."

I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying to get my temper under some kind of control.

"I caught the eye of Prince Humperdinck," I finally managed. "I had no desire to marry him, but he's not a prince who takes well to the word 'no'. Running was my only option, so I secured a boat and set sail as soon as possible."

"On your own?"

I nodded once, not bothering with a verbal answer.

"And being a princess was such a horrifying fate that you risked death in its stead?"

I sneered. "Being wed to someone I don't love after knowing what true love feels like is a fate worse than death, yes. And thanks to you I will never have my happy ending with my love, for he died at your sword while he was out attempting to gain enough fortunes for us to finally marry."

"...And what was this man's name?"

"Westley," I replied without hesitation. Up until now I'd been staring back at the Dread Pirate in rage, but my tone softened and my focus shifted to the distance as I got lost in memories of my beloved farm boy. "He was good and kind, something you'd know nothing about. He loved me, and despite the simple life we led together, we were happy. We could've lived long, wonderful lives together, but now that will never happen. So threaten me with your sword and whatever else you want. Nothing you say or do will ever match what I've already had to endure."

I faced the pirate again as I delivered the end of my speech, only to find him staring back at me with slightly wide eyes. When I'd finished speaking, he stared at me for a moment longer, before finally dropping his sword to his side. Another beat, and then he'd dropped to his knees before me, staring up at me like I was the sun. I leaned back a bit, confused, until he tore off the black mask covering so much of his face and looked up at me again.

Westley. Somehow, by some miracle, I was staring into the face of Westley, the love of my life.

"I... How... What kind of trick is this?" I demanded, trying to get my head straight. Had I been drugged somehow?

"No trick, my love," he replied, staring at me dreamily. He scooted a bit closer to me, but didn't touch me, instead letting me work through my thoughts.

"Tell me what's going on," I demanded, sounding a bit more desperate than I wanted to.

"As you wish."

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but I didn't bother listening. That was enough to satisfy any lingering doubts I had. I didn't understand it, but I could also say with complete certainty that this was, in fact, my Westley.

I slid out of my seat, joining him on the floor on my knees. We were face to face, and he smiled softly at me, but I didn't give him a chance to do much more before I pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

After a few seconds of shock, he kissed me back, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tighter to him. I ran my hands through his hair, over his arms, across his shoulders–anywhere I could reach. I'd gone years without Westley, my darling farm boy, the love of my life, and I needed every bit of confirmation I could get that he was here, and this was real.

We stayed like that for long minutes, only pausing our kiss once or twice to come up for air. When we finally broke apart, I laid my head on his shoulder, holding him tight to me as he likewise held onto me, a few tears finally starting to fall.

"Westley..." I breathed, relief flooding through my system as I felt his strong arms around me and heard the steady beat of his heart. "How is this possible?"

"When the Dread Pirate Roberts raided my ship, he didn't kill me," Westley breathed, speaking softly against my ear as he ran his hands up and down my back. "I begged him for my life, and I told him about you. My love, who I needed to return to. I told him I couldn't die because I couldn't leave you.

"He ended up sparing me that day. He kept me prisoner, and told me each day he'd most likely kill me in the morning. Over the course of time, he trained me, and I learned everything to do with being the Dread Pirate Roberts. Eventually, he told me his secret. He was not the Dread Pirate Roberts. He was a man called Ryan, who had inherited the position from someone else who was not the Dread Pirate Roberts. The title carries more weight than anything else, and so the name has been passed down every few years, the previous Dread Pirate Roberts retiring with their fortune after choosing and training their successor. He'd chosen me to be his, and a few days after he told me as much, we docked at a small island port. We hired a completely new crew, and then he left. I've been the Dread Pirate Roberts ever since."

"I... I can hardly believe it."

"Imagine how I felt when I found you bobbing in the water just as I was finally on my way back to you," he chuckled. I huffed a laugh with him, then at last pulled back to look him in the eyes again.

"So... what now? What do we do next?"

"Well, we can't stay on the ship. It's not the best place to start a life together, to say nothing of the questions it would raise that I left you alive."

"Of course."

"And you can't return to Florin or, truly, any country near it, lest the 'prince' find you and throw a wrench into our newfound happiness."

"Agreed."

"Then that really only leaves one option, doesn't it?"

"And what might that be?" I asked, smiling and leaning into Westley as he stared at me, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"To find a completely new place and start over, of course. I've already picked my successor–I was planning to promote him once I reached the shores of Florin, but now I'll wait until we find our new home."

"My love, I can't think of a plan I'd more like to initiate," I said, beaming happily back at him. He leaned down and kissed me again, then pulled away to stare at me with love in his eyes.

"So, where shall we go?"

"I'd say you know the lands far from Florin's reach far better than I. You choose. But... pick someplace with green fields, and perhaps a gorgeous lake we can swim in on hot days. With land enough for us and any future children to roam and have adventures, and room for a home for us to curl up in on cold winter nights."

"Well, that's not much to ask for," he teased, leaning into me a bit. "Anything else you'd like to add to the list, my love?"

"Yes. I want our new home to be some place we can live happily together, without anything to ever separate us again so long as we both shall live. I want it to be a place where we can be by each other's sides for the rest of time, where we finally get our happy ever after."

He smiled at me warmly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my lips before pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes.

"As you wish."

[krafterwrites]

Rows Of Roses

All the way back in October 2022, I held a raffle to celebrate hitting 500 followers, and promised the winner that I would write a fic for them. It may have taken a long time to get back enough energy to write again, but I stuck to my word, and now I've finally finished making a fic based on the prompt that my friend @4filen0tfound4 gave me. Hope it was worth the wait

Summary: Amy invites Silver over to her garden, where he learns about the many meanings that different colors of roses can hold

Words: 2847

In the city of Station Square, Amy's home stood out a bit. Unlike the apartment she had moved out of some time ago, which was no different than the rest in terms of its exterior, this small house situated close to the edges of the metropolis served as a small beacon of greenery through its yard and the garden contained inside of it. Amy was waiting in that yard when she heard a faint sound slice through the typical ambience, an ethereal humming sound. A second later, what she had suspected to be the source of the noise hovered into view

"I'm here! Hope I'm not late," Silver said as he dispersed the field of energy that had been carrying him and softly dropped onto the ground

"Nope, you're right on time," She reassured him. "Do you want anything before we start? I just got some tea from the store"

She gestured towards the front door of the home as she asked, and Silver couldn't tell if this meant she had planned to have a snack before they started, or if she was just being very inviting. He did really want to get to gardening right away, since he knew it would be fascinating to learn more about the plants of the past from someone who knew a lot about them, but he didn't want to accidentally mess up her plans after she'd been nice enough to invite him over. He hadn't known Amy for as long as her other friends, but she had always been just as sweet to him as everyone else during that relatively short period, so he decided that something little like this didn't matter

"I'd like to start right away, if that's alright," He told her with a slight bit of uncertainty. "Tea does sound great afterwards, though"

"Sounds good to me," She answered, beginning to turn and move towards the back of the plot's land

Silver internally relaxed a bit, and then began to follow Amy as she walked to her garden. The walk was very brief due to the small size of the yard, but even so it was still pleasant because of the perfectly maintained grass, and the perfect weather that was looking down on it. Once he had caught up with her, his eyes were caught by the centerpiece of the place. Laid out in a rectangle formation were what must have been at least a hundred roses, not just red, but in all sorts of new colors that he didn't even know were possible. White, yellow, green, even blue. The pretty display and the realization that even one of the few plants he thought he knew relatively well had so much more to it excited him a lot, which she noticed

"I see you like the roses I planted," Amy said joyfully

"I love them! They're all so beautiful, I didn't know that they came in colors other than red," He exclaimed

"Oh, yeah, there's tons of different colors they can have. Most people just think about the red ones when they hear roses, so romance is commonly associated with them since that's the meaning the reds have, but each color symbolizes different things"

He was intrigued even more by this revelation than the previous one. Each of the differently colored flowers in front of them all had meaning to them, like hidden messages of some sort. He began to wonder if the other flowers he'd seen up until this point represented things as well, if they might have been giving him signs that he hadn't been aware of

"Can you tell me about all of them?" Silver questioned

"Well, there's a lot of colors here to go through, and they can each have quite a few things associated with them," She explained. "Why don't you pick out one for us to start with?"

He looked at the arrangement of flowers intently, and tried to think about which ones caught his eye the most. Yellow and orange were such great colors, they reminded him of the sun and how its light felt on his fur, and the flames that Blaze could conjure. However, after thinking about it for some time, Silver decided that the most interesting shade was blue. It reminded him of the ocean, and one of his most precious memories that had been made there

"What about those blue roses?" He asked

"These can symbolize uniqueness, or things that are impossible. It's like they were made for Sonic," Amy replied as she crouched down to the earth to get a closer look at them. "Heh, but that's just my opinion. What do you think of them?"

While the color of the flowers had immediately brought water into his mind, hearing about the impossible made him think of the fact that he was standing here in this moment, thinking about this at all. Not just because of the miracle of time travel, but also because of how harsh the world he'd been in for so long was. All it would've taken was for one of Silver's many near misses to have not been a near miss, and he never would've been able to see the past. Surviving for long certainly seemed impossible at the time, let alone changing the world. But here he was, able to relax, with his future no longer desolate. Telling Amy all of what he said verbatim would probably drag the mood down a little, so he decided to just state the last part instead

"It seemed impossible for things to ever change," Silver began explaining. "But once I was brought back here, I was able to fix everything. Now my future is just as beautiful as this place is"

"That's amazing to hear, Silver. It's good to know that even 200 years from now, this world will still be full of life," Amy complimented him. "Are the plants from your future anything like the ones here?"

"Uhh, I think so? I haven't seen too many from either time yet, so it's hard to know if anything I see is unique to that period or not"

"I see. Next time, you should describe some of your future plants to me, and I can tell you if they're ones that exist in this time. Maybe you could even bring one back, it would be fascinating to see"

"Oh, um, I'm not sure if I can, it could mess things up. I guess I could fix things even if they did go wrong, but-"

"No, you're right, I wasn't thinking about it. Let's get back to the flowers that are in front of us now, which ones are catching your eye?"

The green roses were the first ones that Silver thought of this time around, they almost looked like immature sprouts that hadn't finished growing yet, but they were the same size as everything else. A flower lacking the vibrant splash of color that it usually had at the top, and instead having the same color as its less treasured parts such as the leaves, had a lot of potential for interesting meanings. Plus, in the event that his thought about the green roses not being finished growing was true, it would lead to the just as interesting revelation that these ones would end up being much larger than all of the others

"What's up with the green ones?" Silver asked, phrasing it so that the answer would tell him which one of his assumptions about them was right

"They mostly mean life and abundance. Perfect for a day like this, right?" Amy remarked

He took a second to look up into the sky as well as into the street behind him, and saw that she was very right. Life stretched far past Amy's yard, it was in the skies above them as Flickies flew overhead, and in the streets behind them as people went about their day walking to who knew where

"Abundance… yeah!" Silver exclaimed. "That's the perfect word for what the past is like, there's so much stuff here. Every day I'm here, I see a bunch of new things"

"Did you see anything new today on your way here?" She asked

"I did! I passed by a bakery, and I saw these little colorful things that had cream in the center, and the outsides were kind of like little cookies"

"Oh, you mean macarons? Those are really good, did you get to try one?"

"I actually did, I asked the person eating them if I could have one, and they handed it to me. It was super sweet, I wish I could've had more, but I didn't want to be rude"

"Well, if you want to have more, we could always go to there ourselves and order some next time"

"That would be fantastic, I love visiting restaurants! It seems like there's infinite choices, and all of them are delicious"

"Yeah, the places here all have a lot on the menu, even I haven't tried all of them yet. Say, what's your favorite thing you've had so far?"

"It was this amazing apple pie I ate at a bakery. Back in the future, I ate a lot of old ration bars, the best ones were the apple flavored ones. The closest I ever felt to being in a natural world was when I ate one of them, but then when I had that pie, it was like experiencing that times a million. It was the first time I felt something familiar in a new way, instead of something completely new"

"Wow, if I'd only gotten to have things flavored like fruit my whole life before getting to eat the real thing too, it would probably have been as magical as you were describing. Did you have anything with the pie?"

"Nope. What do people usually have with it?"

"The most popular toppings are vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. It's actually kind of funny, since they're both like you"

"Huh? How are they like me?"

"They're both white like your fur, and they're both really sweet"

"Aww, thank you!"

"No problem!"

Since Silver was now thinking about things that looked similar to him, when he looked back to the garden after the conversation had died down, he immediately thought of the white roses. Like vanilla ice cream and whipped cream (supposedly), the petals did look a lot like his fur, he would probably be able to hide pretty well behind all of them if he needed to. While their potential hide and seek applications were fun to think about, Silver was also even more curious about what they could mean than he'd been about the other two. If they looked like him, would they have meanings that reflected him?

"What meanings do the white roses have?" He chose, silently beginning to get a bit excited as his anticipation grew

"These can stand for a lot of things, but some of the most prevalent meanings are innocence, loyalty, and new beginnings," Amy shared. "They're mostly used at weddings, but I think with meanings like those, they're good for a lot of events"

"New beginnings, huh?"

"Yep! I bet that makes you think of traveling back here for the first time, doesn't it?"

"How did you know that?"

"Oh, I just guessed based on what you've told me before. Good to know my guess was right!"

"Well, you only guessed half of it"

"Hm?"

"My other new beginning was meeting you"

The answer caught Amy off guard. She hadn't thought that she'd had that much of an impact on Silver, she just treated him the same way she did to everyone else. Knowing that her meeting with him was apparently so important that he considered it the start of a new chapter in his life made her feel a deep happiness, followed by a small bit of curiosity

"Really?" Amy asked, still a bit shocked

"It's true," Silver began. "The first person who I ever felt a real connection with was Espio, but since we were working together to save the future, I thought it was just because of our shared goal. But then, the next time I went back here, you saw me. You didn't know why I was here, or even who I was, but you were so nice to me… It made me realize the truth. Espio, Shadow, everyone else; they weren't being kind for the sake of the future, it was because they cared about me"

"Wow. That's… really something. I'm glad that I was able to help you"

"I'm glad about it too"

As Silver reminisced about the change that his meeting with Amy had brought to him, he was facing her, since he had just finished a conversation. However, since it was followed by a short period of silence while both were busy thinking about that information, his eyes went back to the flowerbed

It was just a default position at this point, since he had previously looked at it a lot in order to make his choices for rose variants to learn about. Spending time in silence instead of asking about that, though, made him notice a part of the rose other than their colors: their thorns

The first time Silver saw a rose, he'd grabbed it with his hand in his excitement, and it pierced through his glove into his hand. Even though it had drawn blood, it still had the same gorgeous appearance that had drawn him to it in the first place, so he chose not to leave it behind. Instead, he grabbed it gently with his psychokinesis, and carried it beside him as he walked and floated across the land

Everyone he'd met during his times chasing Eggman Nega, he'd been rude and harsh to at one point or another. While Espio was the only one who had brushed it off and followed him at the time, he had seen all of the others at later points, and they all seemed to at least tolerate him. Maybe it was because they had been told he wasn't actually that bad by Espio, or maybe it was because his urgency during his first time saving the future had faded, and no longer forced him to push everyone out of his path. Maybe it was both

Suddenly, Silver snapped out of his thoughts when he realized that Amy had moved over to the garden in front of them again. Unlike last time, though, she was plucking a rose from the dirt instead of just looking at them. It was yellow, close to his bracelets and eyes, although not exactly like either of them

"Oh, you're picking them now? That's fine, I wanted to hear about the yellow ones next anyways," Silver said as Amy turned around to face him, slightly confused

"I'm giving it to you, silly!" She explained as she stretched out her arm for Silver to take it. "Yellow roses symbolize friendship. You looked so happy seeing all these roses here, so I figured this would be a great gift for you"

"You'd… really do that for me? We're friends?" He asked, sounding very touched

"Of course we are! I know we haven't known each other for so long, but every time we talk, it's so enjoyable. You just have so much love for this world, and you share it with everyone you're around. Whenever you talk about how amazed you are by something I see everyday, it reminds me of just how great this place really is, of what I fight to protect"

Silver didn't respond verbally at this point, as he was a little overwhelmed by just how kind Amy had been to him, but tears welling up in the corners of his eyes showed he appreciated it very much. Remembering the lesson he had learned before, he held his hand forward and gently encircled the flower with his psychokinesis, lifting it out of Amy's hand and bringing it close to his side

"Thank you," he managed to choke out. "Thank you so much. I'm going to take the best care of this as I can"

"Maybe you could even start your own garden someday," Amy suggested.

"That would be fantastic," He replied, before turning to look at the lone plant. "But for now, I've got to take care of this"

"I understand. It was great hanging out with you today, hope I can see you again soon!"

"Me too. Bye, Amy"

"Bye, Silver!"

With that, Silver flew off similarly to how he had arrived. Amy was left in her yard next to the garden that she had just taken her gift to Silver from, and thought about the future. There was no way she'd be alive to take care of it in Silver's time, so it would likely have disappeared long before then. However, even if the garden she was standing next to would eventually fade away, she knew there would still be one like it 200 years from now. A very beautiful, and very yellow, garden of roses

[sjofn-lofnsdottr]

In Which I Gush About Dusk Lanverlais

Looking over what I posted about my alts, I was sort of amused to realize that I didn't talk nearly as much about my main dude, Dusk. Probably because I'm afraid if I start, I will never stop.

Because I love this silly man, very much.

He wasn't supposed to be my main guy, you know. I made him because I found it interesting the elezen look strange. Their proportions are off, compared to actual humans. They've got those necks, of course, but their shoulders are also a little too broad, their limbs a little too long, their head can sometimes look a little too small.

It was a touch offputting, if I'm honest, although I appreciated that this awkwardness went for both genders. I've said to people that I appreciate that FFXIV did 'androgynous elves' in a way that wasn't just code for 'the dudes are a little bit feminine.' When they're in armor, especially heavy armor, the gender line is pretty blurred to my eyes. And I think they have a ton of leeway to lean really hard into a gender presentation they want, or to hang out somewhere in the middle, or swing wildly from one to the other, and it always looks 'right' for them in a way that can be difficult (but not impossible!) for the other races in this game. They're just elezen, and I like it a lot.

This is me holding back on gushing about other things I've come to love about them, by the way.

In any case, like I said, I found their proportions a little offputting and strange, but that made them intriguing. Could I make an elezen I liked looking at? Turned out I could.

This is the earliest picture I can find of him that I still have. I have no idea where he's at in his MSQ, but I do know this was his very first glam.

Dusk comes from the same place Errol and Mercuriel do, a long lost RP setting I explored with a friend for a long time. It's why he's named 'Dusk' instead of something more elezen-y, although in FFXIV it's a nickname given to him by his father (and his twin sister, of course, is nicknamed Dawn). In that setting, he was a misplaced hippie artist at the head of a free love commune in the post apocalypse. He was a sculptor, and the eccentric local warlord was his patron, which enabled him to have his commune of would-be artists in the first place.

I wasn't sure he'd translate well to this setting (I thought this about the other two, too), but his actual personality - golden retriever given human form - didn't just translate, it fit into the way the Warrior of Light is frequently portrayed beautifully. Dusk has always had tremendous amounts of love to give to people - whatever form they want from him, platonic or otherwise - and has always made friends easily. He loves to learn about people more than anything else, but he loves seeing and doing new things almost as much.

He's more resilient than people ever expect, because he's always so soft, caring and open. It comes across as naive a lot of the time, but he's not. He just made the choice to be trusting and loving in a world that seems to often punish that, because living any other way is no way to live at all, in his eyes. He refuses to let the world make him jaded.

He's brave and protective - within reason, he is ever mindful of people's boundaries - and wants to help. Always, no matter how big or small the problem he's being asked to help with is. He's stubborn about being who he is, stubborn in his optimism, stubborn about giving pieces of himself to anyone who wants it.

So yeah. Translated better than I could ever hope.

When I first came up with him, it was sort of to counterbalance Mercuriel and Errol, both extremely messy men. I wanted Dusk to be simple, to be the one who was somehow always okay, because of the love he surrounded himself with. And so he was, in the RP. Partly because I didn't RP him and only him, he was offscreen a lot.

The WoL is never offscreen. So there are cracks here and there, now. Dusk wouldn't dream of not being the Warrior of Light, if people want him to be, even though he wishes people would see him more as himself than a Heroic Hero That Heroes, and that they would more often remember he has a huge support network that helps him do what he does. And frankly, it IS a lot of a pressure and he HAS gone through an awful lot as a result.

Dusk doesn't seem, on the surface, to be someone who would be a dark knight. He's so fluffy! And he's not resentful about being labeled a hero at all! And it's true, he really isn't. He might get exasperated sometimes, but nothing too crazy. But when he picked the class up, there were so many events he hadn't had a chance to unpack, to feel his feels and come to terms with them. And self-care is not a thing for him, it doesn't occur to him until people make it occur to him. Fray, to put it mildly, made it occur to him. Myste did too.

The Stormblood DRK quests felt especially suited to him ... he's not resentful, but he does carry a lot of guilt. So many people he couldn't save, in spite of his best efforts. So much hurt he wishes he could've prevented earlier, or entirely. So many people he was set against, that he might've been able to come to an understanding with if there had been time to find it, who didn't survive meeting him because of it.

He's better now, and I like to think that's why he's left the class behind ... but not completely. It's like riding a bike for him, letting his strong emotions, his love for the people he wants to protect, his disregard for rules designed to stop him from doing that ... it all comes rushing back to make him back into the absurdly resilient, dangerous protector of people who cannot protect themselves.

Gunbreaker is good and all, but sometimes you need to tap into something deeper, I suppose.

Pfft, I was going to make this his backstory post, but it got away from me, talking more about what he is instead of what he's done. I think that's okay though.

Oh, another thing he is? A giant insomniac.

And that, friends, is what tilted me towards wildwood over duskwight. Wildwoods look exhausted, all the time. It's perfect and I love it.

I will frequently comment that he looks like there is not a single thought passing through his skull. I've decided it's a combination of things that make this happen. First, the sleep deprivation. Second, he does frequently indulge in fogweed, partly in the hopes it will help him sleep, partly because he is self-medicating all the anxiety he refuses to acknowledge exists because again, self-care is not a thing for him a lot of the time. And third, his brain never shuts the fuck up. He doesn't have no thoughts, he has all the thoughts.

He's also ... startled a lot. Which I love so much.

Don't let the lack of glasses fool you, he wears them all the time now. I just didn't start doing it reliably until after he finished Shadowbringers, and I'm avoiding posting Endwalker shots of him at the moment.

Okay, see what I mean? I got started, and I have rambled about this dude AT LENGTH. This isn't even close to as much as I COULD say about him, either! But I will stop here instead of actually talking about his 'lore,' and try to make things more, uh, bite-sized going forward. Thank God I found the 'read more' link option thing, am I rite?

[headchamberlain]

House, but not a home

(Yeahhh. TW/CW for pills/medicine, self-harm implications, blood, depression, suicide, hallucinations, crosses, that stuff!!

PLOT: Ivan's old house in Russia is explored ^_^)

Ivan stood before the door of the abandoned place. It was small, it was dirty, left to rot just like everything else in his past. The place itself ignited an odd sense of anxiousness in his heart. It was somewhere where he was supposed to feel at home, somewhere he was supposed to look upon with warmth and nostalgia, and not... fear.

It was so familiar and yet so new at the same time. Exploring your own house would have sounded like a comedic concept to Ivan before now. With a heavy heart, he put his hand on the knob and opened the door.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, not wanting to stay in the cold for much longer. Not that the house did much to block the cold, but it was good enough.

He ran a finger over one of the small tables. The dust came off so easily. It had been years since he came back here.

"What would it have been like if I returned with memories of this place?"

He murmured to himself, looking at the rooms again.

Although he had no good memories of his past, he could remember one thing about his life; it was unpleasant. Anytime someone mentioned his old house and wanting to visit there, he felt shame tug at the strings of his heart. Ashamed of what, you may ask, and unfortunately Ivan didn't know either. Just ... ashamed.

He took a look at the kitchen first. He enjoyed cooking, and he was much more familiar with the warm meals and the fancy tools at his master's place rather than the empty, soulless aura this kitchen had.

He checked the fridge, not expecting to see much, and he was right. Empty. The only food was some kasha, that was rotten and vomit-inducing now. Ivan quickly closed the fridge and swallowed hard. Disgusting.

He opened the drawers and found ... knives. Tons of dirtied and used knives. Some of them had dried blood on them. Ivan instinctively held his wrist. He closed the drawers.

He looked for anything else to distract him, and unfortunately the house would only plague his mind with more fleeting moments of his past. Pills especially. Tons and tons of them. Had he tried to overdose? Knowing himself, he possibly had. Maybe not. Maybe he had been saving them for other things, he wasn't sure.

He decided to check the bathroom. Bloody bandages hung out of the small trashcan. These ones were for his wrists, not his head like one would assume. He looked into the mirror.

It was Ivan.

Whoever that was.

The bathroom gave him a bad feeling, though. It felt like somebody was watching him from behind the shower curtain. He could see it in the corner of his eye. He whispered a prayer and got out of the bathroom. He made sure to close the door when he got out.

Last but not least, the bedroom. It was just as he left it. His clothes were still messily tossed onto the floor or chair. He used to be too lazy to even move. Too lazy to get out of bed. Too lazy to live. Ivan shook his head- he was so much more productive in the present! Not that it made him feel any better.

The crucifix on the wall stood tall and proud, taking the attention of the visitor. Now that he thought about it, he had seen plenty religious items scattered around the house, but mostly crosses.

He looked into the closet. A chair. Why would that be there? Taking a look at the rope in the corner, he immediately understood why. So many attempts at dying and he hadn't done it. Purely because of fear. Fear of God and what He would do to him. Also because he didn't know how to tie a noose, and trying to search for it would only give those stupid suicide hotline things.

Shuffling some clothes with his feet, he spotted a box under the bed. Out of curiosity, he took it. 'Memories', it read.

...

He opened the box.

It was full of odd things that did not matter to Ivan now. Things that held significant importance, but not anymore; Bracelets that seem handmade. A pair of old socks. Some random string of letters that must have been a code or password to something. All useless to him now.

And... a picture. He looked at it for a moment.

A young woman and a young man that appear to be wife and husband. Two kids, one pale girl with a big, toothy smile and a scrawny boy with long hair and dimples.

Ivan touched his face. He had dimples, too.

Was that--?

He dropped the picture into the box and shoved it under the bed again. He immediately closed every door and went to put on his jacket.

This place was a home.

It used to be, but it wasn't anymore. Maybe it was never a home to begin with.

What he was sure of now is that this place was a house to him, not a home.

He left the building wordlessly, out in the freezing weather once again. He tuned out everything, only hearing the light sounds of his footsteps as he sprinted away from the place.

Unable to feel any negativity, Ivan Goncharov had never smiled wider.