#i died from the cuteness emanating from this drawing

[amor-immortalem]

Replaced part 2

Part 1

Genre: angst. Angst with a happy ending, fluff

A/N: The 2nd part in the replaced!mc au that I wrote a couple days ago. Enjoy! Its super long: 9 1/2 pages long with a 4.6k word count.

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Blinding lights cloud Arella’s vision as she wakes. Her head turns to the side as she blinks, seeing nothing but a white vastness. Where was she? The human pushes herself up as someone calls out to her, a woman- no she’s an angel, Arella is sure of it from the way an ethereal glow seems to emanate from her form. She takes a moment to look over the angel in front of her.

Tan, freckled skin, black hair weaved with golden strands that ended at the middle of her back in soft curls, vibrant sea-green eyes- Arella thinks she’s the most beautiful thing to have ever existed. Her dress and wings are a pristine white save for the singe marks along the outer layers of her wings’ feathers and the bottom of her dress and the arrow that pierces through the center of her chest. It doesn’t take the human long to figure out who the angel standing in front of her is.

“Lilith...”

The angel only smiles sadly at her descendant. She crouches down next to Arella, brushing her curly black hair away from her face and the tears come forth almost instantly.

“They left me...” Arella’s voice is small. “They didn’t love me anymore.”

“But they do... And they always will.” The angel pulls her into an embrace as she speaks softly. “My brothers have always taken things for granted. It’s only once they’ve lost something important to them that they realize it’s worth.”

“What do I do next? What happens now?”

“Go back to them. Not as a human, but a demon.”

“How- !?” A terrible burning engulfs Arella’s body and suddenly she’s falling. Falling down, down, down, until the bright white light and Lilith disappear from view. Her skin- it feels like its burning away as she plunges deeper.

The next thing she knows, Arella is gasping for breath as air rushes into her lungs and the smell of Mammon’s cologne invades her sense of smell, his hold nearly crushing as he cradles her closer to his chest. She can hear Diavolo speaking but his words are garbled- a jumbled mess of word salad drowned out by the fire scorching her skin from the inside out. The way her entire body hurts is all she can think about as she succumbs to the comforting darkness of sleep.

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When she wakes, its two days later. Everything feels sharper. Her sight is better than it’s ever been. She can hear the crows cawing from the aviary on the other side of the house. She can even smell the individual scents of the brothers who were still up in their rooms and...

“You’re awake?” Melissa’s soft voice makes Arella recoil. Even as a whisper, it sounds like she’s screaming at Arella. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your ears.”

“It’s... Please... Just let me have a few moments...”

Melissa nods and just sits quietly beside the newly awakened demon. It takes a few moments to get a hold of herself and get her newly sharpened senses in check but Arella manages to push herself into a sitting position.

“Would you like to talk?” The blonde asks softly, “I feel like we should clear up a misunderstanding...”

“What’s there to misunderstand?” Arella asks. “It seems pretty cut and dry to me... they chose you and cast me aside like a broken toy that had lost its novelty.”

“I’m sure it felt like that. And it's my fault, that much I’ll agree to. I should have never asked them to help me land a date with Satan... this wouldn’t have happened, right? I can understand if you despise me.”

Arella laughs at that. She doesn’t know why but despite being mad at six out of the seven brothers for not communicating this to her, it was entertaining to her. Was that all it was? Was all of this caused by something so simple as that? Arella knew her boys often had a one-track mind but this was so ridiculous, both on her part and theirs. She rolled off the bed as she laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks as her demon form manifested itself for the first time. Melissa only peered over the side of the bed at Arella, a worried look in her brown eyes as the laughter died down and the former human climbed back up on the bed.

“Are you... angry? With me?”

“Not with you but-” They were interrupted by the sound of three sets footsteps thumping down the hall above her head and before she knew it, Arella found herself back on the floor but this time pinned under Mammon who’s holding on to her with all of his strength as two of his brothers stood in the doorway having gotten there too late to stop him.

“Hey, Dumbass,” It’s Levi’s voice that she hears as he draws closer, “You’re going to crush her crashing into her full force like that!” The purple-haired demon tried to pull his brother away receiving a feral growl in response.

“Mammon, stop! Right now.” Arella tries to use their pact to enforce the order but.... It’s not there anymore. The Avatar of Greed only holds her tighter to him. There was nothing that would separate him from his mate- not after the way he was this close to losing her.

At some point by working together, Beel and Levi were able to pry the white-haired demon off of Arella and she sat up. That’s right... she had died so she no longer held pacts with the seven brothers. But if she had died, why was she here? Ignoring the chaos happening around her between the three brothers, she looked into the floor length mirror and softly gasped at her appearance.

A set of fluffy, feathered, black wings adorned her back while a set of horns jutted out from her head in a way that was not too dissimilar from Belphegor’s. She had black markings that framed the side of her face and reached out to just under her eyes and a crescent shaped one on her forehead. The newly turned demon only squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She’s supposed to be dead! Why still breathing and why does she have a demonic form all of a sudden?!

As Mammon and his brothers continued to squabble over Arella, she curled in on herself, holding her hands over her ears. “All of you, just SHUT UP!” Sobs shook her body as the other demons turned their attention to her. Their voices were too loud and her ears were still too sensitive to loud sounds to the point if felt like the sensory overload was going to make her head explode.

“’Rella... I...” The Avatar of Greed, now free of Beel and Levi’s hold, reaches out to place his hand on her shoulder but is stopped when one of her wings slaps his hand away.

“Get out! All three of you... you... you should have just let me die like I wanted...”

And it's with that that the three Avatars look between each other before slowly leaving. Once the boys had gone, Melissa slowly moved over to Arella’s place on the floor, wrapping her arms around the other female as she comforted her.

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It’s nearly midnight now as the Avatars sit in silence in the common room. They had met to discuss a way to reforge the bond they had shared with the human-now-turned-demon, but no words had been said. They all knew who should be the first of them to do this but it was the how. How did they even begin to approach her at this point? Mammon was for having no plan at all, just playing the situation by ear. It’s not like she could overpower him in anyway. What’s the worst she could do? Kick him in the shins? Not something he hadn’t survived already.

“Well, since none of ya still have a plan yet- and it doesn’t look like any of ya are gonna come up with one soon- I'm going ta see her.” The white-haired demon stands and starts to make his way toward her room with no objections from his brothers as there was no other alternative they could offer him. He knows what she’s feeling- like she was abandoned, unloved. As her mate he wanted to fix all that- that was his responsibility. His brothers could make up with her later but he needed to do this right now. He was her first after all, he needed to be the first to talk to her.

As he opened her bedroom door, Melissa was leaving at the same time.

“So, you’re back... good I was just coming to find you. I tried to explain everything but I don’t think it worked and she still seems convinced you don’t love her anymore... Obviously this is something only you can fix so I’ll just leave you two to it. Also... I think she needs help changing back out of her demon form... she keeps knocking things over with her wings and getting agitated.”

The blonde gives her friend a pat on the arm as she headed off to find the others.

Slowly, Mammon entered her room. At the sound, the feathers on Arella’s wings puffed up, the wings herself raising to make herself more intimidating to him and he has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at how ridiculous she looks like that. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

“Put yer wings down, baby. Ya don’t scare me. I wanna talk to you.”

“Well, that’s funny. I don’t want to talk to you,” Arella growled. “You made your choice and it didn’t include me.” She crossed her arms as she turned her back to him. It was cute in a way.

“Then how ‘bout I jus’ do the talkin’ then? Will ya just’ listen?” He offered her a deal, watching as her wings drooped slightly and he knew he had her. Even as a demon, Arella was incapable of not lending a listening ear when asked for it.

“Fine,” She huffed. “You won’t leave until you say whatever you want too anyway but I don’t care about whatever lies you have for me. I already know the truth.”

“Sure, whatever ya say, doll.” He moved to sit on her bed, goading her into talking to him.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?!” She stomped over to him a pout on her face. “I’ll have you know, I’m very angry with you. You-!”

Mammon cut her off with a kiss as he pulled her down on the bed with him. The surprise was enough to shock her out of demon form as she wrapped her arms around his neck. When he pulled away, he held her gaze with his.

“I’m sorry for not bein’ there for ya... I messed up- alla us did and we’re so sorry but don’t think for a second that I don’t love ya. Ya mean the world ta me.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it, you infuriating demon. I heard the two of you flirting in the dining room that one night... You didn’t even ask her to stop.”

“Yeah, it sure probably sounded like that, didn’t it? We weren’t flirting with each other. Melissa asked me to help her practice her pick-up lines for Satan. She ain’t interested in me and I made it clear I wasn’t lookin’ for it if she was ‘cuz I had you.” he poked a finger at the center of her chest.

“But... but... You didn’t say anything. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped too.”

“’Cuz I’m a idiot and it never occurred to me what kinda impression you’d get from it. C’mon, Treasure, this ain’t news.” He tries to flash her a smile. “’N before I knew it, almost a year had passed... I felt really guilty and tried ta call ya... but you’d already made up yer mind... Ya got me good, kid. I learned my lesson the hard way...”

Arella frowned as she watched his eyes for any sign of a lie. “How am I still alive? How did I suddenly become a demon...? I carved that long gash up my arm deep for a reason.”

“We gave ya my blood... jus’ a small amount but it did the trick. We turned ya and ya healed up immediately.” He pressed their foreheads together. “None of us know what we’d do without ya. And the fact that we almost lost ya two days ago scares us... We’ll make it up to you somehow. Even if it takes thousands of years.”

“You, specifically, can start tonight. Do you know how many date nights or movie nights you’ve missed? How much I’ve missed just having you in bed with me? I’m not letting you go for the rest of the night!” Arella hugs him closer to her. “That’s what you can do start making it up to me.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Babydoll, but we’re gonna sleep in my room. Ya don’t need this room anymore.” he hums as he shifts his arms under her and lifts her up, carrying her up to his room for the night.

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The pair sleeps so late into the next morning that they end up missing breakfast. By time they come remotely close to even wanting to roll out of bed, Levi is already banging on Mammon’s door.

“It's noon already, guys! Get your butts out of bed! You’ve had Arella too long! Stop being greedy with her.” It's not the Avatar of Envy’s typical wakeup call but desperate times call for desperate measures. He had a whole stock pile of games he was dying to play but was saving the initial play through to be with Arella and he couldn’t take it anymore. Unlike Melissa, she was actually in to all the niche horror games that were supposed to come out over the past year.

“What’s he ramblin’ about now?” The Avatar of Greed looks up at his door before letting his head fall back on the pillow as he groaned. “I don’t wanna get up yet.”

“Then you can stay in bed.” Arella presses a kiss to his cheek before rolling away from his grasp. “I think your brother is only interested in me anyway considering he’s not saying anything about the money you owe him.

“But I don’t want you ta go,” The demon gives his mate the biggest puppy dog eyes in an attempt to get her to come back to bed with him. “Levi’ll keep ya all day.”

“And you’ll have me all night. I promise. Besides, I missed hanging out with him.” She turns to the door. “I’ll be there shortly, Levi!”

“Fiiiiiiiinnnnnneeeeee,” Mammon groans, sulking just a little bit and Arella laughs at his reaction.

“Oh? Is that a hint of sulking I detect coming from you?” Her tone is teasing, “You- the demon who’s been ghosting me for the past eleven months to the point where I thought you weren’t interested in our relationship anymore- is sulking because I’m going to end up spending the rest of one day with your little brother? I’m starting to detect double standards here, my dear.”

“Oh, shaddup,” He chucked a pillow at her head as they both laughed. “Just go and get dressed.”

“I will,” She made a ‘hmph’ like sound before running off to change out of her pajamas. “I’m stealing one of your flannels by the way.” She informs him as she walks out of the walk-in closet fully dressed.

“The hell you are!” He scrambles out of bed and chases her down as she leaps up the stairs and makes a break for it down the hall toward Levi’s room. As she runs, Arella thinks maybe being a demon has its perks after all.

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“So what games are we playing first?” Arella makes herself comfortable on the floor next to the third born.

“It's another time loop horror game where if you don’t solve the mystery before times up your character has a permadeath and you have to go through everything again with the suspect being a new person each time. I promise this time it won’t affect us... Maybe.”

Arella laughs at that, remembering back to that time where they had to ferret out someone’s wish before the time loop reset. “Let’s just hope for your sake it doesn’t. I dread to see what Lucifer might do to you.”

“Yeah,” the purple-haired demon smiles as they begin the game.

After a couple hours of the two demons playing niche horror games, they took a bit of a break.

“I missed days like this... The days where we’d binge anime or play games.... I wish I hadn’t gotten forced into helping the others... Initially, I wasn’t going to since we already have one couple doing gross normie things. We didn’t need another.”

Arella laughs at that. “So, who was it that twisted your arm into helping?”

“Asmo bullied me into it. They were so relentless about it that I just got fed up and caved.”

“You know what, that tracks.”

“I really am sorry... You don’t hate me, do you?”

Her eyes widen at that. “No, Levi. I don’t hate you and I don’t think I can. You know I’ve never been one to hold grudges- especially with the seven of you. I always seem to forgive you guys eventually... And it seems like you all feel remorse for what happened so there’s no need to stay mad at any of you...”

“You know... Lucifer cried for you... when he and Mammon brought your body back to us two days ago... he was crying- they both were... And that’s when we really realized what we had done to you... that you were gone.”

“But I’m back now,” the demon says softly. “And this time, you guys won’t be getting rid of me. I’ll be around for the rest of your lives and I can’t think of a better way to spend it. Now, let’s get back to the game. I don’t know about you but I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

Levi only nods in return as he turns back to the tv.

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“Arella!” Asmo links their arm with hers as they drag Arella off to their room. “How’re you feeling now? Better?”

“Uh... Yeah, thanks for asking. Where are we going?”

“My room, of course! We’re going to have a little bit of a spa day. No offense, but your skin looks absolutely trashed. Plus, now that you have a demon form, I can show you all the best oils and polishes that I use on my horns and I heard from Beel that you have the prettiest black wings that are just like Lucifer’s- okay, the pretty part I added on but still! I know some inexpensive, but quality oils to use when you preen them that’ll keep them looking pristine at all times.”

“Thank you, Asmo, I appreciate it.”

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As the pair sat on the floor in the Avatar of Lust’s room, face masks in place, Asmo pulled out their endless collection of nail polish. They took one of Arella’s hands in theirs as they thought about what colors would work best for her that wasn’t already used for their brothers.

“How would you feel about a magenta? Or maybe- no, Lord Diavolo’s nails are black so it would be a repeat... Oh, oh what about that glittery gold that you like when we pair it with a black base? I bet you’d look good with rose gold nails too.”

“What about black with a gold design? It would be a bit different wouldn’t it plus I can’t remember anyone having designs on their nails. Aside from when you do nail art on yourself.”

“That’s genius! Why didn’t I think of that? Anyway, let’s get started.” The demon sets to work on her nails, letting out a satisfied hum once the first layer is done. While they waited for it to dry, Asmo pulled out some issues of DevilStyle for them to read. Some of their outfits had been featured in the latest issue and since some of them had been ones Arella had helped them refine months ago, they wanted her to see how their hard work paid off.

“They look amazing, Asmo.” She smiles as her eyes shine. “Is that the one we worked on together?”

They nodded. “Mhm. Mammon even modeled one of them. That one specifically, I tailored to him myself so it would look its best.”

“Can I see it? How long ago did he do this shoot?”

“Three months ago.” They turned to the centerfold. “He looked fantastic in it.”

“That he does- but then again when doesn’t he?”

“Oh, you’re just saying that because you’re biased.”

“Mmm, you’re not wrong.” and they both laughed softly at that. “So... I heard you were the mastermind behind trying to get Melissa and Satan together?”

“Yeah... It took forever too. I only thought it would take a few weeks since he’s my brother and I should know his tastes better than anyone but almost eleven months? It feels like a failure to my matchmaking skills.”

“So that’s why you were always busy with Melissa, huh? At least it worked right?”

“Thank the stars it did. But I was starting to think that it would never happen. Sorry we didn’t include you in the planning- we really should have... I really caused you a lot of pain, didn’t I?”

Arella nodded. “It hurt a lot thinking you guys had grown bored of me. Especially with Melissa being so much more than I ever could be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look at me...” Arella makes an up and down motion with her hands. “She’s gorgeous. Long legs, blonde hair with pretty brown eyes that bring you in, skinny but not sickly looking. Right off the bat, she looked like she belonged here with you guys. And then you have me who regularly looks like a hot mess. I’m scrawny, far too skinny and I look like a midget standing next to any one of you. I guess for as much as I seem to fit in with you all, there’s always been a part of me that hasn’t. And I guess, once Melissa got here, it felt more prominent. Your little plan which took up everyone’s free time didn’t help.”

“I’m sowwy.... You’ll forgive me, right?” Asmo gave her the puppy dog eyes.

“What do you think, hmm?”

The Avatar of Lust threw their arms around her- careful of their face masks. “I knew you would. C’mon it’s time to get these face masks off.” They offered their hand to Arella as they went to go wash their faces off.

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Arella admired her freshly painted nails as she walked down the hall. Unbeknownst to her, she was being stalked by a certain white-haired demon. He was quiet, sneaking up on her before he grabbed her.

“Gotcha!” He laughed as she let out a small squeak. “You’re mine now. C’mon, we’re goin’ out.”

“Out? Out where?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“A date, obviously. Told ya I was gonna make it up to ya for missin’ all them date nights...” he smiled as he set her down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m not takin’ no for an answer.”

“Alright, Alright.” she hummed. “I wouldn’t tell The Great Mammon ‘no’ anyway.” She laced their fingers together. “So, where’re are you taking me, love.”

“It's a surprise, so I can’t tell ya.” And with that the pair made their way out on the first date they’d had in months.

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As the days went on, Arella found herself being tugged in all different directions by the brothers. There were days where as soon as they got out of class, Beel was dragging her off to a new café that had opened up that week or Belphie was taking up the rest of her free time with multi-hour-long naps- something Mammon had some choice words about.

Satan and Arella would exchange books for light reading as they sat in the library together and discussed their favorites. Sometimes Melissa would join them too, just as ecstatic about the books she’d gotten from the both of them. Lucifer would leave her teas order specifically from the human world that she often enjoyed. They had even returned to their occasional late-night chats over the same teas.

At school, Luke would often cling to Arella- not caring that she was now a demon as to him she would always just be Arella, human or otherwise- while Simeon only observed them with slight amusement, only to pull the small angel away once they had to split up for classes. The older angel had taken to calling or texting almost nightly to check on her.

Solomon-bless his heart- had started hanging around more, making various dishes for her to try at lunch and asking for her opinions on them. Having never learned from her prior experiences with the sorcerer's cooking, Arella still ate them out of both curiosity and politeness. Now that she was a demon, for some reason Arella had actually come to appreciate and enjoy the meals Solomon would make for her. The pair even joked about Arella making a pact with him but it was just that: a joke.

Now that it was months later, Arella felt even more ridiculous about ever feeling unloved by the people in her life- something they had proven untrue with their actions. Even with Melissa staying with them for an extended period of time after what should have been the end of her exchange year, Arella never felt cast aside for the blonde again. The pair had even begun hanging out together on their own without the influence of their housemates- something that Arella had wanted since Melissa first gotten there.

“So, what would you like to do today, Melissa?” Arella asked as the two women walked down the street. “I know you’re getting close to your return to the human world... its only a few weeks off.”

“Yeah... I don’t even know where to begin.” The blonde sighed. “What did you do during the last few weeks before you left after the initial year here was up for you?”

“I spent most of my time hanging out with the boys. They were all really upset to see me go... Are you planning to come back at some point? And what about you and Satan? Are you two going to keep in touch? You’re very good for each other- like two peas in a pod.”

“We’re going to, yes.” She confirmed. “I’ll still have my D.D.D. when I go back so we’ll talk and video chat through there. I’m going to miss you all though. I’ve had so much fun over the past year and half and it's all thanks to you guys.”

“I’m happy to hear you say that.” The demon smiles. “No one here is going to forget you. Make sure you try to come back at some point. They guys and I would be very happy to have you back.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Melissa hums as they enter the arcade.

After that it seemed like life had gone back to a somewhat normal house hold just with one more added on. Everything was at peace now even with some of the days where Arella feels less than good about herself. But she always had one of her seven demons there to remind her just how precious she was to them. During those times, she couldn’t think of a more suiting way to enjoy the rest of her long life.

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Part 3 (the bad ending)

find more on my masterlist

[alexaplaysgames]

Title: Rhythmic Relics

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC(Last Legacy)

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Description: The MC listens to the sound of Felix’s relic. It’s cute ig :)

Notes: written for @prakra! Sorry for the delay, the day I do anything on time will be the day I die. Also- I honestly don’t know much about how relics work so I hope this isn’t wildly inaccurate :) send me more requests if you want!

“Stop- hah- stop that!” Felix laughs. He squirms as I kiss along his neck, a playful glint in his eyes in spite of his protests. Though his cheeks are stained by his ever-present blush, he smiles. The sight of it makes my heart flip. The fabric of the sofa beneath him has mussed his hair, and the afternoon sunlight that streams in through the windows makes his pale irises glow a near-white.

“You’re. Too. Cute.” I say, punctuating each word with another kiss. Felix only groans and shoves me off of him, but his smile takes on a softer edge. He looks up at me with that same soft smile, eyes tracing over my features in open admiration.

“You are quite adorable, as well,” he mumbles, drawing his fingers over my cheek.

I fake swoon. Felix snorts.

A moment passes, then he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls back me down for another open-mouthed kiss. As our lips meet, I can feel the curve of his mouth against my own. His eyelashes brush against my cheek as they flutter shut, the softness of his swollen lips familiar and welcome against my own.

I kiss his chin one last time before I lay my head on his chest. Felix responds by nuzzling into the crown of my head with a faint hum. Thanks to the open fabric off his shirt, I can feel the cold skin of his chest against my cheek. I squeeze my arms tighter around his waist. Felix squeaks. His heartbeat rapidly accelerates, which makes me smile, pleased.

The warm sunlight, the steady beating of his heart, and the sound of his breath all melt into a soothing lull that makes me feel lazy; nuzzling deep into his chest, I yawn, tired and sated.

Soon, I almost feel like I might fall asleep, but then another sound catches my ears. Like a faint hum, a low, trilling, musical sound emanates from beneath his skin. It’s quite strange, but frankly comforting and oddly melodic.

“Felix?”

“Yes, my dear?”

I briefly contemplate how to phrase my question without sounding ridiculously incompetent. “Why is your heart… singing?”

Well, so much for that, I suppose.

I can’t see his face, but I’m sure his expression must be priceless. His fingers have halted where they were brushing through my hair, sectioning it into tiny braids. “O-oh,” Felix stammers. “That.”

“Yes, that.”

“My relic. I suppose you can hear it, being in possession of a relic yourself.”

“Your relic,” I repeat. I’ve never really understood the complexities of relics, but I suppose that makes some sense. “I like it. It sounds… nice.”

Is that an odd thing to say? I’m beginning to wonder if making such an observation is strange; Felix’s chest has gone still beneath me.

“T-thank you,” he eventually chokes out. “I’m glad.”

I listen to the sound a few moments longer before I turn my head, nudge aside the fabric of his shirt, and press a kiss on the skin directly over his heart.

I’m surprised, when I return my head to his chest, to find that his heart is still beating. Judging by the sound he made, Felix might have just died. He shivers beneath me, then breathes in deeply before he hugs me tighter again, burying his face in my hair as he always does when he tries to hide his flush.

“Go to sleep,” he grumbles, abashment obvious in his tone.

I snicker before I snuggle deeper into him and close my eyes, letting his heartbeat and the hum of his relic soothe me to a dreamless sleep.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (11) || atz

He pulls you through the town, back to the harbor where you can see several ships docked in the piers. But to your surprise, Jongho doesn’t lead you back to the Treasure. Instead, he drags you to a small bakery selling pastries and sweets.

You turn to him confusedly. “Jongho-hyung, what are we doing here?”

“Pick three cakes.” He gestures at the shelves. The establishment is neat and well kept for a pirate town, and the cakes look rather high quality compared to the other shops you saw earlier. It must be expensive. But since he told you to do it, you obey.

The shop owner takes your pastries and puts them in a little paper bag. Then Jongho adds several more cakes to the order, until his arms are laden with bags of sweet treats.

“Let’s sit.” He tells you gruffly, pulling you to one of the tables outside and sitting you down. You continue staring at him in complete bewilderment even as he pulls out your pastry and sets it in front of you.

“Eat.”

Your mouth falls open. Then you lean forward, pressing a palm against Jongho’s forehead as you look into his eyes intently. “Jongho-hyung, are you experiencing any dizziness or discomfort?”

The maknae jerks back at the contact, face twisted in a confused scowl as he shakes his head. “What? No! What are you-”

“You need to be honest with me, Jongho-hyung.” You look into his eyes carefully, searching for wavering pupils or the like and your voice drops to a secretive whisper. “Have you been drinking without telling Seonghwa-hyung?”

“No! Why are you even asking me this? I'm not being weird!” Jongho yelps as he scoots back further from you, the sound of his chair dragging across the stone floor making both of you wince. “I'm not drunk! I’m not sick either!”

“Okay…” You continue to stare at him with worried eyes as you take a bite of your puff, the sweet taste of cream spreading over your tongue. The young battlemaster sighs.

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He glances away from you for a moment to collect his thoughts, before he opens his mouth to speak again.

“I don't hate you, okay?”

His words are mumbled under his breath, so you lean across the table to hear him more clearly.

“What?”

“I don't hate you!” He shouts, clearly embarrassed. His cheeks are tinged pink and you look at him in surprise.

“Shut up, kid!” One of the bakery’s patrons shouts at the two of you and you shy back into your chair, feeling your cheeks burning.

“Oh.” Is all you manage.

You’re a little shocked. With how he’d been treating you this while, you thought he’d hated you, loathed you, even. While you weren’t sure why, you had thought he had disliked you immensely.

“Wipe that dumb look from your face before I smack it off.” Jongho grunts, and you realise that your lips are pulled into a wide grin. Hurriedly, you try to hide your Cheshire Cat smile, but it’s impossible. “I mean it!”

Finally with much difficulty, you press your face into a poor attempt at a serious look, much to Jongho’s chagrin. He sighs, slapping a hand against his forehead.

“I’m just awkward with new people, okay?” You’ve never seen the young battlemaster this skittish. Even in battle, he’s always possessed some kind of quiet, silent self confidence, not an ounce of self doubt in him. “And I was always the youngest till you came along, so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to… take care of you.”

You’re oddly touched by this for a moment. This strong man, who can handle even the fiercest of enemies, awkward and shy… because he doesn’t know how to take care of you.

A giggle somehow manages to leave your mouth. “That’s cute.”

“What! No!” Jongho cries in horror, looking desperate now. “I’m not cute-” A disgusted glower paints his face as the last word passes his lips.

“Boy, shut up before I come over and shoot you myself!” The shopkeeper bellows from behind the counter, and Jongho slumps back into his seat, groaning in despair at your irrepressible smile.

“Forget I said anything.” His words are muffled against the table top.

The two of you sit in peace for a long moment. It’s silent, like how it was between the two of you before, but where there was discomfort, now there is a happy warmth that fills you from the inside. Maybe it is because you’ve lost your memories, but with every new person that you meet, they root and grow themselves in your heart.

“Jongho-hyung…” You suddenly speak up, breaking the silence you two had been enjoying. The young battlemaster raises an eyebrow as he looks over at you questioningly. “What song did you sing when I was tied to the mast?”

“Song?” He frowns, but you can see baby pink blossoming on his cheeks like cherry blossom petals. “I sing a lot. Do you remember the lyrics?”

You recite what you remember. “Born on the wrong side of the ocean…”

“Ahh.” A small, sad smile pulls at the corners of Jongho’s mouth, the look softening his serious expression as he glances towards the harbor. The sun has just begun to set, the rosy light casting Jongho in a halo of warm oranges and pastel pinks. “It’s an old song. My mother used to sing it to me when I was still a child.”

The look on his face is forlorn, a little happy, a little sad, a little wistful. His eyes seem to be looking at something so far away, gazing at some point in his past that you can’t see.

“Jongho-hyung… where is your mother?”

That snaps the maknae out of his thoughts, the smile falling from his face as he inhales deeply. “She’s dead now. Died of consumption a few years ago. Didn’t get the medicine she needed and left. She’s in a better place now.”

You blink once. “That’s sad.” The cream puff is finished off, and you lean back to look at Jongho. His gaze never leaves the ocean as he continues to speak.

“Dad died before she did. In a hurricane offshore. Never got to see a trace of him again except the smashed up remains of his boat.” He points to a piece of tattered white fabric he wears around his shoulders.  “This is from the wreckage.”

His voice is thick with emotion, but his face remains solidly strong. You feel something stirring in your chest, something that seems to want to swallow your lungs whole. You frown and touch your chest. Is there something wrong with you?

“But enough about my sad backstory. What’s over is over, and what’s left for me to do is move on.” Jongho’s voice doesn’t waver at all as he thumps his chest. “They live on in here. I’ll live well for the two of them and never shed a tear again. Can’t let them be worried about me.”

His smile returns, a genuine and powerful one this time. For a moment, you’re so lost in it that you can barely breathe. Jongho is the epitome of strong. Not just physically, but in the heart, and in every sense of the word.

“Anyway, what about you, stowaway?” He cocks his head as he shoves a meat stuffed bun into his mouth. You look confused for a moment. What past do you have to tell? “What’s with that necklace around your neck?”

Ah. Your fingers reach up to stroke the silver chain resting against your delicate collarbones. Your only link to your past, the last thread you have connecting you to who you were before.

“I don’t know.” You murmur softly, feeling a lump rise in your throat. “I woke up with it.”

“I know Hongjoong-hyung said you’re an amnesiac.” Jongho looks at you firmly, but curiosity brims behind his eyes. “But do you really remember… nothing?”

You close your eyes. For a second, white dances behind your eyelids, the sound of sea crashing against the shore filling your ears and rain touches your face.

Then a single, unblinking red eye looms into your mind.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes fly open. You can still see it, a monstrous thing, a dark, hulking shape in the depths that has been forever chasing you… following you…

You’re not sure how Jongho will react right now if you tell him you could hear the voice of a giant squid monster which was chasing the Treasure, so you merely hold your tongue and shake your head.

Jongho is silent for a moment.

Then suddenly he rises to his feet, abruptly grabbing you by the arm. You follow, a little stunned by his strange change in demeanor, and Jongho whirls to look at you with resolution carved into his face.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose.” The young battlemaster swipes the sweet smudge off with a finger and licks it off, to your horror.

“That’s disgusting, Jongho-hyung.” You scrunch up your nose, but you’re not sure why he’s suddenly so eager to do something. Jongho begins pulling you somewhere, much to your surprise.

“Where are we going?”

“When I first came to Tortuga, I had just lost my parents and joined the crew.” Jongho tells you earnestly, leading you down past the harbor to a more lively, darker part of town by the shore. Many street vendors and shopkeepers with makeshift booths line the wooden docks, all offering some sort of rare, exotic wares, but Jongho simply brushes past all of them without a second glance. “And by coincidence, I visited a fortune teller.”

“I didn’t peg you for the superstitious type, hyung.” Is all you say as you take in the new environment all around you. The place is a little shady, with suspicious characters slinking away at every turn and dark, hooded men crouching behind corners. But with one glance from Jongho and they scatter, clearly intimidated by the way his fingers inch for the handle of his cutlass.

You remember what Yunho had told you about Jongho just earlier this morning.

He’s a great fighter and he has strong protective instincts. You’re probably safer with him than in the sickbay.

“I’m not superstitious.” Jongho tries to defend himself, but sees the look on your face and sighs. “There’s something different about this fortune teller. I never believed magic existed till I met San-hyung… but this fortune teller has a similar aura I get from hyung.”

You immediately understand what he’s talking about. Your master has a pulse about him that you’ve always been able to feel, like the warmth emanating from the sun and a gentle pulse that draws people to him, a comforting softness.

You’ve never seen San use his ‘inner energy’, as he calls it, but the feeling you get from him is no lie.

“But why do you want me to come to a fortune teller, hyung?” Nerves and a deep sadness twist within you. “There’s no point in knowing what’s going to happen. If I can’t remember my past, what’s the point of looking at the future?”

Jongho then stops you in your tracks, placing his hands on your shoulders. His eyes are both gentle and earnest at the same time, searching yours and for a second you can’t look away.

“You may not have a past yet.” The grin on his face is wild, brimming with confidence. “But we sure as hell are going to be your future.”

[andromeda612]

Renga Fantasy AU

I've seen lost of fantasy Au's with Langa being the prince and Reki either the cute gardener, the adorable captain of the army, or any other common role that will be the prince's love interest... but what about Prince Reki?

I can see it like this:

Joe is the head of the cook and Reki's paternal figure number #1.

Cherry is the first advisor of the royal family and Reki's paternal figure #2.

Shadow is a guard and probably Reki's main bodyguard, he acts like he is annoyed by Reki's too energic and loud personality but in reality he is a big softie and has a weakness for the young and gentle prince, he is Reki's older sibling figure.

Miya is the son of a noble family, probably training for either being court sorcerer or knight, he is Reki's closest friend despite being younger, he sees Reki as his old brother and is very protective of him because in his opinion (and in everybody else's opinion for that matter) the redhead is too nice for his own good and someone needs to take care of him for god's sake! Of course he will deny it for ever and still be the tsundere he is.

Langa can be the son of a merchant and a doctor from another kingdom, after his dad dies his mother decides to go back to her home in the Kyan's kingdom (Okinawa), because of her reputation as a good doctor she gets a job in the palace as court physician. Langa stays with her at the palace and he could be either training for knight, physician or maybe sorcerer too but he hasn't decided yet, or even training for advisor under Cherry's wing. For the time being he just study with Reki.

Now in this au's Prince Langa main trouble is he feeling lonely or incomplete, Reki being the sun he is complement him and his trouble is of course his self confidence, I want to keep it that way even if Reki is the prince now.

So Langa feel not sad anymore but definitely off since his dad died, he used to love traveling with him, try new things, he loved the most all the things he could learn from the items he got to sell, he wanted to be a merchant like him but now he is not sure anymore, that's why that for now he is just studying along with the prince as he decides what he want to do with his life, he is not unhappy but he can't help but feel there is something missing, that's it until he meets the ray of sunshine that is Prince Reki, the royal is gentle and unlike other royal member he has met (due both if his parents jobs) he doesn't treat the rest with superiority, he traits everyone the same, with kindness, a warm and genuine smile, he actually doesn't act like how he was taught princes are supposed to act, he is loud and very energetic, he is polite and all, but he doesn't emanate an aura of someone to be afraid off or someone you feel intimidate with, he makes you feel like you are with a friend, he will talk and talk enthusiastically to no end... unless you show him you were bored, which was not rare to happen, with the prince being too kind and easygoing is was easy for others to forget he was the prince. But Langa could hear him for hours and never get bored, Reki showed him the palace and different places of the kingdom, he show him his drawings, all his crafts, the prince was incredible with smithy, he designed most of the best warriors' armors, as well as some of the innovative artifacts that helped so much in the kingdom, he showed him his passion for his realm and his passion for his hobbies, he was amazing... it's such a shame the prince is not capable to see it himself.

Reki for his part, he is the genius, creative sunshine we know. He is energetic and almost all the people loves him. Almost, because there is still the royal and nobles assholes that think he won't be a proper ruler because of his personality. As well as the people that get fed up with his energy. Those all are the people less liked in the kingdom. Though is really a trouble that the royal ones hold such power, because they really chose violence when it comes to Reki's self confidence. Especially because the most deep root for his insecurities comes from no other than his passed away father.

The king was... not a good man, the kingdom was not in ruins but the people were not happy, his family was not either, he would lash out to his wife and daughters, telling them they were good just to show of, to serve him, he was abusive with this staff on the palace and to his people, but who got the worst treatment was the young prince, since a child Reki was unquiet, loud, energic, totally the opposite to a centered, reserved and serious prince, he was also too kind with everyone no matter how much he told him he was above all the people, but Reki refused to be rude or mean to anyone, the only people that he lashed out to were the rude and cruel royals that abused of their power and were mean to people with no status or power. The king ruled with an iron fist and with stronger severity he tried to rise his heir, but Reki's golden heart was always stronger, however it didn't protected him from the abuse, the hard punishments and the constant reminders of how a failure he was, how he was worthless, how he was a mistake, how easy it would be for him to replace him if not were for the fact he needed a boy of royal blood to be his heir and he had no one, how annoying he was, that there was something wrong with him. And all the people that thought the same as his father had no seconds thoughts to remind him of the same in every. Single. Opportunity.

It was such a relief when the king died from a mysterious illness, and if anyone ever thought about it as a coup from the queen and the royal staff? Well nobody blamed them, but that was just a rumor and they were fine without him anyways.

Indeed, after the king's death the Kingdome went through a prosperity that haven't been seen in years. Despite what the king and his lackyes believed the Queen was actually a very well skilled ruler, she fixed the mess her former husband made and bring a new era to her people, she made new allies, she cleaned the corrupted government and brought new opportunities to the kingdom of Okinawa, the people were happy again. And her son, his ideas for artifacts to make certain tasks easier, his enthusiasm about cultural development, not mention that despite what his father said Reki was really smart, a total pride for his tutors even if his chaotic nature gave them green hairs, also his ideas to improve the army of the Kingdome, his ideas helped a lot to their realm's development. Many people called him the inventor prince.

However there were some royal asses that were not happy with him, there were invertors for that, there were artists, musicians, artisans for the cultural things, a prince shouldn't be look being so friendly and informal to commoners, shouldn't be so loud and idiot.

Not to mention the people that just... were fed up with his chit chat, and okay, they get it, Reki's personality could be overwhelming and even obnoxious to some people, but they needed to be so rude about it? The fact that must of this people were royal visitors didn´t help at all, Reki just felt he was embarrassing his mother and the Kingdome, no matter how many time she and the royal advisor Kaoru told him otherwise, or the fact that those people were usually not good allies at all.

Years of abuse and constantly hearing how a waste you were are hard to heal.

But, the love and support of the people that truly loved him helped Reki a lot, it was a long path but he was getting there. Though, the person that were really close to him, and you know who these persons are, know that sometimes the thoughts gets too loud on Reki's head, but they are there for him, and are happy to see that everyday the sunshine prince is doing better and better.

Well, and then of course the boys met and all of that, they help each other to find what was missing, to discover how much loved and worth they are.

The Queen and the court physician ship them, because this is my fucking au and I say love is love, you are who you are, no labels :)

Kaoru, Kojiro, Miya and Hiromi are definitely fondly exasperate with their mutual pining and just want them to just kiss already and spare their poor souls out of their misery.

About Ad*m... I don't know yet honestly.

In one hand I'm so tempted to make him not existing in this au. On the other hand he could be a major villain, maybe a lord wanting to make coup to the kingdome with Tadashi being a spy loyal to Queen Kyan. And I really want Langa to beat the shit out if him for messing up with his sun, but well, idk.

Any thoughts about this? Feel free to ask! 👀

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ HIDDEN ❜

with Hank ‘Tranq’ Loza.

Request: hey, I absolutely adore your writing! 💕 I love love love love tranq, if you could write something about reader being a member of mayans and being on a long run, like to meet with sons in charming or something, and they stop to spend the night somewhere, like a motel, and when everyone else is asleep, things get smutty with her & hank 👀 thank you, cheers from northern europe, and have a nice day 😊

BY ANON

Warnings: nsfw, this is pure smut and I'm not sorry.

Word count: about 1.5k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @thedevilsmoonshine

Masterlist.

Lying over a picnic table, you have both hands under your head and your gaze raised up. From there, you can see the star-filled night sky. You have been trying to sleep for the last two hours, but for some reason you couldn't get it. Being so absorbed in counting stars, you don't hear two heavy feet coming to your position, scaring you when the man grabs your ankles to pull them and making you crawl above the wood, until he settles himself between your legs.

“You fucking pendejo!” Hitting Tranq's chest, you growl like a furious dog, hearing him chuckle this time. “You scared the shit outta me, idiot”.

“I've been looking at you for five minutes, without you noticing it”. He says making fun of you, enclosing you in his arms. “You looked beautiful”.

“How easy you turn from creepy to cute…” You laugh shaking your head.

“What are you doing here?”

“Couldn' sleep”.

“Need a help?” He smirks, leaning forward to sink his face into your neck, pressing his lips over your skin.

Some nice shivers run down your backbone, unconsciously wrapping his waist with your thighs, biting your lower lip as you close your eyes. His breath is too warm, touring your jaw with the tip of his nose until reaching your lips to kiss them. You love how gentle he is at the start, caressing your legs with his calloused hands going under the baggy shirt. Without advising you, Hank lifts you up under his grip non stopping the kiss, walking almost blind to his room. He easily opens the door, as soon as he finds it, coming in feeling your hands roaming the back of his head and his neck. When it started? You can't remember. Who knows that between you there's fire sparkles? You don't care.

Lying you down on your back, over the mattress, he pulls away himself enough time to take off his shirt, while you imitate this gesture giving him a good view of your bristled breasts waiting for him. Making himself space between your legs again, spreading them so you can feel better the rock under his sweatpants, the man attacks your nipples with his mouth and his huge fingers. You can't help but say his name undercover by a soft gasp. His touch is delicate, caressing one of your nipples with the tip of his tongue before sucking it and pulling it softly. In the meantime that he has his lustful eyes fixed on yours, his hands go down by your sides until finding the waistband of your panties. Sliding them through your legs to throw the piece of clothing onto somewhere, Tranq begins to draw a kissing path over your abdomen, continuing to your pelvis.

From your thighs emanate a sweet heat that drives him inside, leaving a meticulous lick all over your center. A moan dies in your lips, slightly arching your back.

“I love how you taste, mi amor”.

His hoarse voice echoes between your legs, dumping two thick fingers among your folds making you shudder because of the pleasure it gives you. Curling them, his hand starts a soft and slow pace, as his lips finds your throbbing and needed clit, gently sucking it and pressing it with his tongue. Your man knows exactly how to worship you, looking for your enjoyment more than for himself. You can't help but move your hips almost priceless, but enough for him to know that you want it faster. A third finger fills you up, stealing you a honeyed grunt, going deeper in your wet pussy while he enjoys the taste of your juices. His hand moving rotating inside of you is making you squirm under his grip, placing yours on his head as your gasps flood the room.

“Fuck, Tranq… I need you to fuck me”. You slur with both eyes closed, focused on his tongue sucking your sensible skin above his fingers. “Please…”

His responses come by catching your clit between his lips, to hardly suck it, taking your breath away; arching your back and pressing his face to your center.

“Oh, my fucking god!” You almost cry, feeling his vibrant laughs against your wetness.

Leaving some kisses on your inner thighs, he goes up looking for your lips. Tasting your own flavor in his mouth, fighting his tongue, you rub your needed pussy against his cock covered by the soft fabric.

“You're going to kill me”. Whispering, the mexican pulls down his sweatpants and his boxers, enough to free himself. “Tell me how much you want it, mi amor”.

“I've been waiting for this all day. I really need to feel you”.

“You have been quiet. Bishop is in the other room”. You know you will not, by the way he has to rub the hot head of his cock against your clit and your folds.

“Fuck El Presidente, fuck the club and fuck me, cariño”. You complain almost frowning.

Your groans get husked when he pounds you without expecting, nor advertising you. He quickly covers your lips pressing his on, to shut up the loudly moan born inside your throat. Hank presses his body against you, hitting your g-spot and your soul too easily, giving you time to accommodate your walls to his thickness. He is fucking big. More than you could think the first time you were about to have him between your legs. And when he's sure that he can move, he just simply does with a desperate pace. His pelvis colliding onto your pussy once and again, without taking you a deep breath, drowning every sound in his mouth. One of his arms is under your body, holding you tightly, while his free hand is grabbing your wrists over your head, thrusting his cock a little harder inside you.

It feels so good after being waiting since this morning, when he left your house to get ready for the trip where you have to assist someone's motorbike at Charming, because the Sons' were needing your mechanic skills after some kind of accident. And this is one of your rewards. Spreading your legs a little more, feeling how your body slightly bounces over the bed, Tranq digs his hardness with soft growls stuck in his vocal chords. Resting his forehead on yours and his dark eyes maintaining your gaze, he loosens his grip on your wrists to let you place them on his lower back, trying to push him somewhat deeper, beating up your g-spot in every move he does.

“I wanna ride you”. You mutter containing your moans as much as you can.

“Fuck… yes, mi amor”.

Pulling himself out of your wetness, making you sob displeased, Trank lies down on his back with an arm under you yet. Sitting on his lap and leading his glans among your throbbing lips, kneeling over the bed, you let your body fall down hardly impaling yourself with his dick.

“Oh, fuck”. You cry out covering your mouth with a hand.

“C'mon, mi vida… ride me”. He asks you, using his long fingers to wrap your throat.

Curving your back, your hips start to dance over him, finding a little more of pleasure as much as you spread your legs by both sides of his body. His eyes are on the point that your bodies get connected, watching how easily his cock get swallowed by your pussy.

“Shit… you take me so good, mi amor”. Tranq grunts, squeezing your neck slightly.

“Oh, fuck, baby…” You cry out speeding up with every thrust, practically jumping on top of him.

His free hand travels to your breasts, pinching them, bewitched by the move they make. Seeing him biting his lower lip full of pleasure, you know that he is as close as you are. The heat is bristling your skin, closing your eyes and focusing on his thickness stretching your walls to the limit, trying to contain every loud moan his cock provokes you. Your legs begin to shake softly, tautening your thighs, and feeling a knot concentrating in your belly. Loosening his grip, you lean over his chest looking for his lips to shut your vocals, dancing desperately with his hands squeezing your ass helping you somehow.

“Fuck… make me cum, please…” You beg between sobs, feeling the sweat stuck on your foreheads when you rest yours over his.

Using one of his thumb, roaming a hand among your bodies, Tranq reaches your clit; rubbing it with the same fast pace. The dry sound of your skin crashing against his and the wet ‘pops’ every time you go from top to bottom, digging his hardness into you, flood the hotel room as the sweetest and dirty melody you could ever hear. Being enough to make the knot, installed in your lower belly, explode in the desired orgasm. Closing your fingers around the back of his head, you muffle a loud moan on his lips, feeling the mexican deepening his throbbing cock into you until filling you up with his seed. The guttural growl that borns inside his chest, dies in your neck, biting it hard enough to make a mark and leave you breathless. His cock twitches inside you, after some deep pounds, you collapse over his chest with a tired smile and a soft sight, making him chuckle.

“Fuck, baby”. You mumble, resting your cheek on him trying to catch back some air, feeling his hands gently caressing your back.

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[tanyawritesstories]

Who He Wants To Be | Waxer x Single Mom!Reader

Since Waxer is on my list of top 10 best space dads, I made him one! Kind of. You'll see, I hope y'all enjoy this cute little fic 😊

Word count: 2,903

Warnings: nothin but fluff, cute kids, Waxer is a good dad and partner, descriptions of a bag injury, a tiny bit of sad at the end, nothing too much.

•••

Waxer was getting tired of the sand and rocks. During the briefing, General Kenobi had described this as a tropical planet. So far, all they had encountered was flat rocky land and a scorching sun.

"Ugh, this place reminds me of Geonosis," Boil complained from beside him, "I thought General Kenobi said it was an oasis."

"It is an oasis once we get to our destination," Commander Cody said from above them on the tank. "How far out are we?" Waxer asked his Commander. "Only one klick, we should be there soon," Cody replied.

The soldiers and tanks continued to march forwards with nothing but dirt and rocks as far as the eye could see. The land was flat and they could see for miles. They didn't see any civilization anywhere on the horizon. Boil grumbled to himself again but Waxer paid no attention. The farther he walked the more the land in front of him began to change, it looked warped or distorted. It was only when he got to the crest did he realize that the land before him opened up into a valley. A river followed through the valley, providing the oasis Cody had mentioned. Lush trees and vegetation grew in abundance from what he could see, the complete opposite from the landscape above.

The platoon marched down into the valley and towards their destination. The location appeared to be free of enemies as it should be. The 104th had come through a few days before and wiped out the droid occupancy of the valley. The 212th were coming in behind to deliver supplies, medical aid, and food to the people, and also to help them rebuild.

At the sound of the tanks heavy footsteps drawing nearer to what they could now see was a village, the men could see people come running out of their homes. Men, women, and children stood just beyond the foliage, jumping up and down, cheering, celebrating, and welcoming the arrival of the soldiers. The tanks stopped outside the village and the men were greeted by exuberant villagers. They parted to make a path into the village center, cheering, clapping, some of them even reaching out to brush their fingers against the arms of the troopers. The children laid wide leaves at the soldiers feet for them to walk on and the women threw flower petals above their heads.

"I wish we got a warm welcome like this all the time," Waxer mused.

They were made a path into the center of the village where General Kenobi and Commander Cody spoke with the leaders. Everyone else got to work unloading supplies and rebuilding structures. Waxer was tasked with helping hand out the boxes of food. He and a few other clones had removed their helmets and were making sure the process was organized and running smoothly. He was standing off to the side checking the amounts of food boxes they had on a datapad, his helmet tucked under one arm. He felt something tap his leg and looked down. A little human girl probably no older than five was knocking on his shin guards. She stopped when she noticed she had his attention.

“Hi,” she greeted, her voice chipper and upbeat. “Hi,” Waxer responded with a smile.

“I made this for you,” she gently held a flower crown in her small hands, and lifted it up to him. Waxer kneeled down to be eye level with the youngster and set his datapad and helmet down. He took in the sight of several brightly colored small flowers strung together in a meticulous way he couldn’t quite understand.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” he said, he reached out to accept the gift but the little girl pulled it back. “Can I put it on you?” Waxer was taken aback, an uncertain and slightly embarrassed blush coming to his face. “Um, sure.” He lowered his head and the small child carefully placed her floral gift atop his head. He pulled back and she began giggling at the sight of the soldier wearing a bright bunch of flowers on his head. Her contagious giggles were almost enough to drown out the sound of his brothers teasing him in the background.

“You look like a prince!” She exclaimed. “Do I?” He asked with a smile. “Yes! A prince in shining armor, and I’m the princess.” She explained enthusiastically.

Waxer bowed, “What do you require of me your highness?” He asked, matching the little girl's playful tone. She smiled and reached both her arms up to him, “Carry me to safety from the evil droids!” Her tone is still playful and lighthearted.

Waxer couldn’t help but smile at her innocence and playful nature and decided to play along. He swooped her up in his arms and swung her around, the action making her burst out into excited squeals and laughter. He brought her to rest on his side, one arm holding her up. “Where’s home, little’un?” She pointed off to their right and Waxer grabbed his helmet before starting off in that direction.

The little girl had her arms wrapped as far around his shoulders as she could. “I’m my mommy’s princess, is that your princess?” She pointed to the painting of the little Twi’lek girl on his helmet, Numa. He was confused for a moment before coming to a conclusion. Daughter, she meant daughter.

“No, she’s not my princess, but she’s a princess. I helped save her home from droids too,” he explained. “I wish I was as brave as you,” she said, resting her head on his chest, her hair tickling his cheek. “You will be someday, littl’un. Someday.”

Underneath the armor, Waxer was melting. This little girl was so innocent and compassionate, just like Numa. They didn’t deserve to get caught up in this war, they were just children, young and free of blame. They didn’t understand why the galaxy was fighting. Waxer felt for them. He wished he could save every single one and carry them away from danger. Boil had told him that he shouldn’t get too attached but Waxer couldn’t help it, he cared too much.

The youngster directed him down a few more streets until she said they were close. “What’s your name?” She asked suddenly. “I’m Waxer, what’s yours?” He replied.

“Aja!”

Waxer turned and saw a woman come jogging out of a nearby house, she stopped and walked the rest of the way to them. “Aja, I told you not to get in the soldiers' way,” she admonished. “But mom, I wanted to give him my present,” she said, lifting her head from his chest. Waxer was reminded of the flower crown that he had been wearing the entire time. “No worries, ma’am. She isn’t in the way at all, I enjoy her company,” he admitted to Aja’s mother.

Looking at the woman now he could see the resemblance between mother and daughter. They both had the same (h/c) hair, same nose and lips, only Aja’s eyes were a different color, undoubtedly a trait from her father. Her mother was beautiful, younger than he pictured, but radiant, she had a loving aura that seemed to emanate from her.

“Well, I’m glad,” the woman smiled. Her smile was gorgeous, intoxicating, and Waxer found himself smiling too. "Mommy, this is Waxer and he's a hero. He saved all the people," Aja explained. "I know, I saw," her mother said with a smile, "we appreciate the soldiers, don't we?" Aja nodded and rested her head back on his chest.

"I made you dinner, sweetheart. Why don't you go inside, I'll be there in a minute," her mother told.

Waxer set the girl down and she took off into the house. "Thank you for bringing her home," the woman addressed, "She likes to wander around and get into trouble." She offered him her hand, "(Y/n), you're Waxer?"

He shook her hand, "Yes ma'am, pleasure to meet you."

Waxer's cheeks tinged a light pink and the woman smiled, motioning to where her child disappeared through the door of her home. "Apologies if she got in your way. It's hard to keep track of her all by myself with so many other things to do."

"You're all alone?" Waxer questioned.

"Ever since her father died in a mining accident two years ago, yes. It's hard but we get through each day so I don't complain," she smiled. Waxer's heart went out to them. "Why don't you come inside? I've just made dinner, you should join us."

He was a bit stunned. "Uh, no thank you, ma'am-"

"(Y/n)."

"(Y/n), but I should be heading back," he said, "the men are probably missing me."

"Not as much as you're missing some good food I bet," she smirked, "Please, it's the least I can do. All least take some to bring to your men."

Waxer simply looked into her eyes, he was hooked on this woman and he had only just met her! There was something about her that he couldn't pinpoint that had him drawn to her. He couldn't say no, he didn't want to. He wanted to walk into her house and have dinner with her and her daughter and never leave. His mind was telling him it was wrong, but what he wanted in that moment was to fill that missing piece in both their lives.

Ever since Ryloth, since Numa, he has dreamt of one day being a father. Having children of his own with a woman he loved. Settling down somewhere in the mid rim, maybe on a farm or even opening a school. Being able to watch his children be free and play and live without having to worry about war or droids or invasions. He wanted so desperately to give his child what he never had.

"I do think they would love that actually," he finally said. (Y/n) smiled brightly, "Good, come with me." She took his hand in hers and he let her pull him into her home. "Wait right here, I'll get something for you to carry it in."

She left him just inside the door and disappeared into another room. The interior of the home was small, the walls and floor made out of a wood he'd never seen before. The ceiling was low and there were only two chairs and a small table in the center of the room. He had waited a couple minutes until he started hearing a strange whistling noise. He stepped outside and looked around, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He felt it before he heard it. The explosion shook the ground, it had landed not far away. Some of the nearby buildings crumbled, pieces falling into the streets. Screams of panicked villagers filled his ears, but one in particular stood out to him. He turned around and saw Aja come running out from the house.

“Waxer!” She screamed as she ran towards him. He kneeled down and caught her in his arms. “Aja, are you alright? Where’s your mother?” The little girl clung to him, her small body shaking with fear. “I don’t know I didn’t see her.” He heard a crash come from inside and a scream, Aja clung tighter to him and buried her head in his neck. Waxer shoved his helmet on his head and swooped Aja up in his arms, running into the house.

“(Y/n)!” He yelled, calling out for her. He made his way into the room he saw her enter and saw her lying on the floor, her leg crushed by a fallen piece of the ceiling. He rushed to her side, setting Aja down next to him. He put his hand to her cheek, beckoning her to come back to consciousness. “(Y/n), come back to me, c’mon.” She groaned in pain slowly tilting her head into his hand and coughing.

“Waxer? Where’s Aja?” She managed to lift her hand and place it on his wrist. “She’s fine, she’s right here,” he assured, “You’re badly injured, I need to get you out of here.” He pushed a button on his vambrace and his comm opened up, “Boil, I need you to come to my location. I have a severely injured civilian that needs medical attention now!” His brother responded, “Right, send me your coordinates, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

More of the house crumbled and shook around them, Aja screamed and latched herself to Waxer’s arm as he sent his location to Boil. “Aja, I need you to stand back, I have to get this debris off her, ok?” He gently pried her off of his arm and moved her back a few feet. He carefully removed the chunks of fallen ceiling and wall. Her leg looked worse than he originally thought, the bone was broken and he could see it poking out through the gash in her calf. He was able to register the sound of running behind him as he took in the sight of her injury.

“Alright I’m here, what do you need me for?” Boil said from behind him. He came to kneel next to Waxer and observed the situation. “She is hurt pretty bad, we need to get her back to the med tent at base.” Waxer motioned for Aja to come over by him, “You take the little one, I’ll take her,” he instructed, he turned to Aja, “you go with Boil, ok. I’ll be right behind you.” She nodded and wrapped her arms around Boil’s neck, he picked her up and waited while Waxer gently lifted the woman into his arms. She yelled out in pain as her injured limb was moved.

The pair of troopers made their way to the middle of the village. “Boil, do you know what’s going on?”

“Apparently, the Seps decided to leave a few tanks behind just in case. The General is taking care of them,” Boil informed. They got the girls to the med tent where the medics began tending to (Y/n)’s leg. She was fading in and out of consciousness and grabbing onto Waxer’s hand whenever she felt pain. He stayed by her side and kept Aja with him until the chaos settled down about 35 minutes later.

~~~~

The 212th stayed on the planet until General Kenobi was 100% sure there was no more threat. It had been three weeks since their arrival and everyday after the attack, Waxer, and occasionally a few of his brothers, came to your house for dinner. (Y/n)’s leg was set although she would have to use a hoverchair to get around until it fully healed. Waxer always helped make dinner and got quite good at cooking, Aja got used to having him around and had a new gift for him every time he came, even making flower crowns for all the brothers he brought with him. Waxer and you got very close, he took you on picnic dates to secluded parts of the valley. He stayed over several nights, stargazing and cuddling until you both fell asleep. It was obvious to pretty much everyone that you two were in love.

It was an emotional day when the 212th were due to leave. All three of you had cried over it the night before, you and Waxer sleeping with Aja in between to comfort her. Now, he stood in front of your house armored up, ready to depart. You were barely managing to hold back tears.

“We’ll miss you,” you sniffed.

“You know how much I’ll miss you,” he agreed. You managed a heartbroken smile. “Aja, come give Waxer the present you made.” The little girl walked out of the house, her eyes glued to the ground. You picked her up and Waxer could see her eyes, bright red and puffy from crying. “I made this for you, to remember me,” she said.

She held out a beaded chain, made with all numbers of bright colors. Waxer took it, looking it over in his hands. “It’s perfect, I’ll keep it forever,” he said. Aja looked up at him and lunged into his arms from yours. He caught her and held her tight to him, hugging her for the last time.

“Please come back soon, daddy,” She cried into his armor. Waxer looked at you and held Aja tighter, his heart breaking even more. “I’ll come back, princess. I promise.” She ran back into the house once he put her down. You fished something out of your pocket.

“I made this,” you held a charm in your hand and put it onto the beaded chain, “to go with, so you never forget me.” His hand flew to your cheek, “I could never forget you.” You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, a tear escaping through the crease in your eyelids. “Promise me, when the war is over, you’ll come back to be with Aja and me,” you pleaded. “It’ll be the first thing I do,” he assured. You chuckled through your tears, “I think you’ll need to buy a ship first.” He smiled and pulled you into his arms, holding you, never wanting to let go.

“I love you, Waxer.”

“I love you too, (Y/n).”

You pulled back just enough to give him the last kiss you would ever share. Little did you know then, you’d die waiting for him to come back.

[dickwheelie]

Meat Cute

This is all thanks to my good friend @kirkwallers​ who got me into the Magnus Archives in the first place. Credit to her for the idea and the title, and for this amazing drawing she did to accompany this fic like a fine wine:

The summary is that Jon and Martin have a dinner date, which goes really well and is totally normal.

___________

“Slowly, slowly, I crept down the creaking staircase. And I might have been imagining it, but the stairs almost seemed . . . softer than they had been before. As though the wood had begun to decay, though the house was relatively new and there was not a speck of mold to be seen. Still, as I descended the staircase, and the basement door came into view, the cold, wet, sickening feeling of mush beneath my feet only grew more apparent.

“It was then that I began to smell it, emanating from the basement door like the haze of a radioactive mound. I recoiled, disgust racking my body, as the smell seemed to quite literally hit me. Its impact sent me nearly gagging. It did not smell like mold.

“When I was a child, I grew up in the poor part of town. My family’s home was downwind and downriver from a meatpacking plant. On Friday afternoons, they would take all of the old or otherwise unusable cuts of meat, and put them out in a great gravel pit in the back of the facility. Trucks would arrive before evening and take them away, but for a few hours every Friday afternoon, that meat would sit out in the elements, rotting away. In the winter it wasn’t so bad, but in the summer. Oh, the summer at its height. You could smell the stench for miles. Our little community always got the worst of it. No matter how hot it was, no matter how still the air, every window would be shuttered, every door bolted closed. Even then, that rotting, fetid smell would cloy its way between the cracks.”

Martin stopped chewing, and looked up from his pork chop. Jon sat across the kitchen table, deep in the throes of the statement he held in his hands, and didn’t seem to notice. Martin opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out, Jon went on, undeterred:

“That was what the basement smelled like as I approached. Worse: it was magnified, as though that very same pile of hot, rotting meat was sitting directly behind the door. My eyes began to water. My stomach began to turn.

“And yet I was unable to slow my descent. Some dark, demented power seemed to be drawing me ever closer to the basement, and the scent of whatever it was that awaited me within.

“It was then that I finally saw it: around the edges of the basement door, oozing from the cracks in the walls surrounding it as though it was trying to claw its way out, came the unmistakable pale red matter of the meat.”

Martin took another uneasy swallow of his food. He glanced down at the glistening surface of the pork, ringed with grey and slightly pink in the middle. Just like he liked it. At least, it used to be.

“Jon,” Martin said mildly, “how are you enjoying your—erm—statement, tonight?”

“I might have screamed. I don’t remember. All I can remember is the inexorable movement of my legs, continuing down the staircase, which was now squishing between my toes, towards the basement door. And the stench. I do not think I will ever be able to forget the stench.”

“That’s nice,” said Martin. He took a drink of water, and decided to move on to the baked potatoes. “The pork is . . . er, delicious. Thanks for the recipe, it really came out nicely.”

“I seized the doorknob, which was sticky and wet. Though every fiber of my being wished to let go, I found myself turning it, the bolt of the door not so much sliding home as it was sloshing. I opened the basement door, and . . .”

“Next time we go down to the village,” Martin said, cutting thoughtfully into one of the potatoes, “we’ll have to find some wine. What pairs well with a Flesh statement, I wonder?”

“There it was. That same pile of meat. The stinking, rotting, fetid mass that had haunted my childhood.”

“Hmm. Yeah, you’re right,” said Martin. “Probably a red.”

“You could never have contained it within the basement. It was seeping through the walls, upwards through the ceiling and into the first floor rooms, and . . . and around my feet, where I stood in the doorway, powerless to move. It seemed to flood out into the hallway behind me, a pink-red-grey mass which expanded into the newfound space with each passing second.”

Martin, who had been preparing to return to his pork chop, looked down at it and then gently nudged his plate away.

“I remember screaming then. I screamed and screamed and screamed, and finally I was . . . released, I think. Finally my feet and legs were my own again. I tried to run upstairs, to where my wife still lay sleeping, but the staircase was too slippery to climb. I screamed upstairs to wake her, to warn her there was something wrong and that she needed to use the fire escape.

“But she didn’t come down. No sound came from upstairs. The meat was almost crushing me against the wall, and I had nowhere else to go. I had to flee the house.

“Can’t you see? I would have died. I had no choice!”

Jon banged his fist on the table, scattering the cutlery that Martin had set at his place, even though he didn’t need it, making Martin jump. He knew Jon was still entranced by the statement, but really, did he need to be so dramatic about it? Sometimes he suspected that Jon was just looking for an excuse to actually use the minor in Theater he got at Oxford.

“When she finally escaped that house, she . . . she was . . . she was like it. The meat. It had—taken her, as it had taken the rest of that cursed place. There was nothing left of her smooth, soft skin, her pale blue eyes . . . all that there was, was the pink, and the red, and the grey . . . and the stench.”

“Oh my god,” said Martin, who had never been gladder that he had stopped eating. He put a hand over his mouth. “Jon, really, that’s . . . even for a Flesh statement, that’s pretty disgusting.”

“But I couldn’t just leave her. We’d taken our vows: till death do us part. And . . . as strange as it sounds, you have to understand, it was still her, underneath all the meat. She was still the woman I’d fallen in love with. And to this day, I love her still.

“We have never returned to that house. But we are, in a strange kind of way, still just as happy as we were before. We’re together, after all.

“We just go through a lot of air freshener.

“Statement ends.” Jon leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head luxuriously. “Ahh. Now that was a meal.”

Martin, who was still a bit green around the gills, said, “If you say so, Jon.”

Jon beamed at him. “What’s not to like?” He gestured at the abandoned pork chops. “You had your meat, and I had mine.”

“Riiiight. Yep. Sure.”

“And how fortunate was it that that statement had such a romantic ending? I didn’t even plan that.”

“Lucky me,” said Martin, who was very pointedly trying not to look at his cold, half-eaten pork chops.

Jon raised his glass of water, which was still full from when Martin had first poured it. “Here’s to our first successful romantic dinner.”

Martin raised his own glass wearily. “Cheers,” he said.

“And to many, many more.”

“God, I hope not,” Martin muttered to himself as they clinked glasses.

“Oh,” said Jon, “I almost forgot, I bought a dessert for us to share.”

Martin perked up. “You did?”

“Yes, a pie, from the bakery in the village.” Jon rose from his seat and went over to the fridge.

“Oh, well, that sounds lovely,” said Martin, as he unceremoniously dumped the remains of his dinner into the bin and set about washing the dishes. “That’s very sweet of you, Jon.” He meant it; sometimes Jon could really come through. Perhaps the evening wasn’t totally shot, after all. He was already starting to feel less queasy. “What kind is it?” he said, turning back to the table.

Martin felt himself go pale again. Sitting on the table was a circle of red. “Cherry,” said Jon proudly, smiling at Martin as though all was right with the world.

The smile quickly disappeared when he was chased out of the kitchen by Martin, wielding a fork and yelling about inconsiderate boyfriends.

In the end, the pie didn’t get thrown away. Jon snuck into the kitchen later that night and ate it alone by the light of the microwave clock. Ah, he thought, feeling a strange kinship with the man whose statement he’d just consumed. The things we do for love.

[imalwaysintune]

Cabin Fever

For the first time in a long time, Jon felt content with himself and his surroundings.

So... what were Jon and Martin up to in the week leading up to the eye-pocalypse? Well only Elias knows... until now! Cute domestic JonMartin because I love these boys very much, and I owed a dear friend of mine a soft fic. So here it is!

Enjoy! Story below cut!

For the first time in a long time, Jon felt content with himself and his surroundings.

It had taken hours of assurance from Martin and ridding the entire cabin of any eye imagery for him to even feel remotely safe, but he felt safe nonetheless.

Right now, though, Jon could hear Martin making breakfast in the kitchen. The scent of eggs and bacon that wafted through the house was making Jon’s mouth water. He couldn’t help but smile and look through the doorway to the kitchen.

Martin was humming to himself and swaying side to side, almost as if he was dancing. He was wearing a frilly pink apron he had found in one of the closets, probably left over from the previous residents who had just left it there.

But Martin liked it, and so every time he went to cook a meal, he adored the garment much to Jon’s dismay, but he’s come around to it eventually. Now he couldn’t help giggling to himself as he watched the man he loved cook them a meal.

Jon set down the newspaper he had been reading on the table and stood up. He stretched before making his way into the kitchen to where Martin was. He wrapped his arms around his lover’s soft body and buried his face in Martin’s back, breathing in deep through his nose. Martin smelled like pine and fresh soap, and Jon had come to associate this smell with home.

“Good morning, handsome,” Martin said gently, and Jon could hear the affection that emanated from his voice. Jon smiled even wider against Martin’s back and wrapped his arms around him tighter, loving the feeling of Martin shaking with laughter as he did so.

“Someone’s in a clingy mood today,” Jon could hear the smile in Martin’s voice as he spoke. Jon felt Martin shifting and assumed he was serving up the breakfast that he had made onto plates.

Jon finally let go, but the task was harder than it sounded. “Breakfast smells delicious,” he said, moving beside Martin to look at the breakfast Martin had arranged. 

The bacon and eggs formed a smiley face, and a wave of tenderness towards Martin came over Jon, and he almost had to fight back the tears that threatened to rush forward out of happiness.

“I went to the store early this morning. Everything was on sale, so I hope you’re hungry. There’s a lot,” Martin punctuated the sentence with a grin, and grabbed his plate before moving to the dining room. Jon quickly followed him and the pair sat down and ate together, talking about nothing and everything all at once.

Jon cleaned up the plates and washed them as Martin dried, and every so often Jon would steal a glance at his boyfriend. He always seemed to be dancing even when he didn’t realize it, and Jon found it to be the cutest thing in the world.

He wished they could go out and find a dance class or something, but it was already a risk they leave the cabin to go to the store. So here they stayed, enjoying each others company and finding different ways to entertain themselves that didn’t involve going out to the world.

Jon knew Elias was watching them, and he didn’t want to make things worse.

Jon and Martin sat on the couch in their small living room and watched TV, tangled up in each other. Martin was lain along the couch and Jon laid on top of him. The pair had managed to tangle their legs together, and Martin’s arms were wrapped around Jon.

It was almost an awkward position really, but that didn’t bother them. They were comfortable, and neither of them really knew much about how couples cuddled anyways.

Even when Jon had been with Georgie, they might as well have just said they were friends. None of what they did could barely constitute as couple things, which is why Jon was so inept now.

But Martin didn’t mind, and that’s all the mattered to Jon.

Jon had almost fallen asleep with Martin stroking his hair, and absentmindedly, he turned his face into Martin’s neck and planted a kiss their. He felt Martin tense under him, and Jon was awake, an apology spilling out of his mouth.

“Jon, Jon, stop, it’s okay. I’m fine. You just haven’t done that before, it startled me,” Martin said as Jon moved his head to look at the man below him. Martin was smiling now, the tense feeling completely gone from him.

“Is it... okay?” Jon felt almost stupid for asking such a dumb question, but the look on Martin’s face quelled that feeling.

“Yes, lovely. I appreciate any kind of affection you give me. It makes me really happy.”

Upon hearing the nickname, Jon couldn’t help but join Martin’s look of joy. He couldn’t help himself; he closed the gap between them and connected their lips. he felt Martin’s shock that soon resolved into kissing him back.

Martin’s lips were incredibly soft, and Jon reveled in that fact each time he had the pleasure of kissing his boyfriend. He still could barely believe that they were even together. After all the shit that had gone wrong in the past few months, Martin was something that had gone so incredibly right.

Martin’s hands came up to cup Jon’s chin, and Jon twisted himself so he could wrap his arms around his lover’s neck.

Martin had been insistent that Jon keep his beard and his longer hair, though he couldn’t fathom why. Everything had been so hectic that he hadn’t maintained proper man-scaping, but Martin didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was quite opposed to the idea of Jon shaving and cutting his hair, though he couldn’t discern why.

But Jon didn’t have time to think of that as continued to kiss Martin. His Martin.

The person who had stuck by his side all this time, even when he had been cruel to the poor man. The person who had stayed by his hospital bed when he was in a coma even after his friends had died. 

Jon didn’t deserve Martin, after everything he’d done. He knew that, yet this man had stayed by his side the entire time and never given up on him. Jon would be forever grateful for that.

Jon felt Martin’s hands move from his face down to his hips, and from there they went up his shirt. Martin seemed to enjoy feeling Jon’s scarred skin, and would constantly be running his hands over Jon’s back.

Jon shivered as Martin’s cold hands made their way up, and he felt Martin giggle because of it. Before he had time to react, Jon was being tickled, and his broken laugh filled the living room.

This just urged Martin further, going for all the placed he knew would make Jon week. The pair fell off the couch and yet Martin didn’t relent, and soon Jon was a puddle on the floor, pleading for his life as he wiped away tears from his eyes. 

Finally Martin gave way after minutes of Jon begging, and the pair sat up slowly on the floor. Jon only rolled his eyes, but he didn’t really mean the gesture. His sides hurt so much from laughing, a fact that would probably make Martin ecstatic. 

“You’re a cruel man, Martin K. Blackwood,” Jon said, but with no real venom to his voice. His smile had still not left, and he suspected it wouldn’t for quite some time.

“Ah, you know me. Mean ol’ Martin. That’s what the kids in school used to call me.”

“You were popular enough for a nickname? Look at you.”

“Oh shut up, we probably should be heading to bed soon.”

“To bed? But...” Jon looked out the window to find the sun was beginning to set. He had failed to realize just how much time the pair had killed, and he knew Martin was right. He found himself exhausted, and only nodded to Martin in understanding.

Martin got up slowly and reached a hand out to Jon, which he gladly took. He leaned heavily on Martin as they made their way to the bedroom. Both of them changed for bed, though it was only a matter of putting on more comfortable pants.

They both enjoyed sleeping with their shirts off. It still made Jon immensely happy to look down and see the flat chest that he hadn’t always had.

“You look so handsome, my love,” Martin said quietly, making his way over to Jon. He leaned down and kissed the two scars that run across Jon’s chest ever so gently. Jon yet again felt another wave of tenderness threaten to overtake, and this time he let himself cry.

When Martin straightened back up, he took one look at Jon and started to tear up as well. Jon threw his arms around Martin’s neck and felt a pair of arms warp around his waist. 

“Martin. Martin. Martin!” Jon could only say the name of the man he loved over and over. It was the only word that felt right on his tongue, the only one that could express how much love he truly did hold for the man in his grasp.

They stayed like that for hours, saying each other’s names with all the tenderness in the world. They only needed each other in that moment, and each other they had. 

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

Thank you to @ggracee for giving me the prompt! She draws so much amazing art I had to do something special for her! So domestic JonMartin! Hope you guys enjoyed. Be sure to hit up my ask box if you have any story ideas you wanna see written!

If you wanna see the nsfw stories that don’t make it on my blog, be sure to hit up my ao3! You can also follow me on Twitter! Thank you for reading!

Words: 1577

[thirsttrapholland]

Smutty blurbs about spiderman? Tom Holland? Soft kiss turns into making out. Yes plz ;^;

I decided to do this one about Peter.  I want to show our friendly neighborhood Spiderman a little more love on this blog.

You were lying on your bed with a book propped on yourstomach; your eyes glazing over as you read the same sentence again and again.  You were too anxious and distracted to absorbthe words you were looking at.  You hadjust glanced over at your phone to check the time again when you heard the tapon your window.

Despite the fact that you had been dating Peter for almost ayear and you had known he was Spiderman for about half that time, it was still alittle bit of a shock every time you looked outside and saw him literallyhanging out on the side of your building.

Since Peter lived in the dorms with a roommate that wasalways around and you lived in an off campus apartment with a roommate that washardly ever home, he always kept some clean clothes at your place so he hadsomewhere to change when he was coming off patrol.  It was certainly a much more attractivealternative than changing in random alleyways with overflowing dumpsters andrats.

You opened the window and stepped back to give him space tocome inside.  Peter wasted no time intaking his mask off; his sweat dampened coffee colored locks falling across hisforehead as he did so.  You winced as younoticed the dark purple bruise blooming on his cheekbone.

“Peter, what happened?” You grabbed his hand and led him over to sit on the edge of your bed.

“You know how it goes. Caught some guys stealing something and they weren’t too happy aboutbeing caught.”  Peter paused, flinching abit as you gently inspected his wound. “I politely asked them to return thestolen goods.  They not so politelydeclined.  Punching ensued.”

You stood in the space between Peter’s legs as you softlytook his chin into your hand.  You tiltedhis face up towards yours as you looked for any other injuries.  “Do I need to get the first aid kit?”

Peter put his hand on your hip and gave you a reassuringsqueeze.  “I’m fine.  I promise.”  He dropped his gaze from you as he rested his forehead against yourstomach.  “I’m just tired.  Let me sit here for a minute then I’ll getchanged and head home.”

You stroked the back of Peter’s head; threading your fingersthrough his soft wavy hair.  You worriedabout him all the time.  You could neverrest unless you knew he was safe.  Youhesitated a moment before speaking.  “Youdon’t have to go.  You can stay heretonight.  If you want to.”

Peter looked up at you. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Yeah.  My roommatewon’t be back until Sunday.”

“Good to know, but that’s not why I was asking.”

“I know.”  You and Peterhad never even slept in the same room before, let alone the same bed.  “I just want you with me tonight.”

Peter wrapped his arms around you, his hands grazing thestrip of exposed skin between your cami and your shorts.  “I want to be with you too.”

You leaned down and kissed the top of his head.  “Well, that settles it then.”  You moved over to your dresser and grabbed a pairof the sweatpants that Peter kept in your room. “Why don’t you go take a shower and get changed?”

Peter took the sweats from your outstretched hands and gaveyou a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

You were already in bed, sitting up against the headboard whenPeter returned from his shower.  His hairwas damp; his skin glistening.   The gray sweats clinging to his slender hips,the only piece of clothing he was wearing.  Instead of approaching the bed, he lingered inthe doorway.

“Sure you’re okay with this? I don’t mind sleeping on thesofa or the floor.”

“What, you don’t think you’ll be able to control yourself?”

“I’ll be fine.  I’m moreworried about you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” he replied, crooked grin firmly in place.  “I mean, I am pretty cute.  Lying next to me all night might be moretemptation than you can handle.”

You weren’t about to admit it out loud, but he kind of had apoint.  Just looking at him was turningyou on.  Lying next to him was going tobe a challenge. “Peter, stop being ridiculous and come to bed.”

“Hmm.  Come tobed.  I like the way that sounds.”  Peter came all the way into your room,shutting the door behind him.  He climbedonto the foot of the bed and crawled up towards the head.

As soon as he settled down beside you, you turned towardshim and wrapped your arms around his back. You buried your face against his neck, breathing in the clean, soapyscent emanating from him.  You just heldeach other for a while; enjoying the quiet stillness of the night.

Your words were muffled against Peter’s skin when you finallyspoke.  “Every time you swing out thatwindow, I’m terrified that you’ll never swing back in.”

Peter rubbed soothing circles against your back as he returnedyour tight embrace.  “I know.  I’m sorry and I wish you wouldn’t worry somuch.  I’ll be okay.”

You pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes.  “You don’t know that, Peter.  You can’t promise me that.”

“No.  I guess I can’t.  I can promise you this though; no matter what,I’ll always do whatever I have to do to make it back to you.”  Peter leaned over you, catching your lips ina soft kiss.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.”  Youlaid your hand against Peter’s jaw, drawing him down into another kiss.  This one longer and deeper than the last.  You loved the way that kissing him made youfeel.  That nervous, fluttery feel inyour stomach.  A slight tingling in yourspine.

You laid down flat on the bed and guided Peter down on topof you; his hips slotting perfectly in the space between your parted thighs.  The feeling and weight of his body pulledflush against yours was both comforting and nerve wracking.  It wasn’t that the two of you had never kissedin this position before, but this was different.  Being totally alone with the whole night stretchingout before you made it different; the relatively thin layers of fabric separatinghis body from yours made it different.

Even something about the way Peter was kissing you feltdifferent.  So wet and so deep; histongue languidly moving against yours.  

Your fingernails grazed against Peter’s biceps as his mouthslid away from yours and he began to pepper open mouthed kisses down yourjawline to the sensitive spot just below your ear.  You could feel his hand as it slowly made itsway underneath your shirt.  “Is this okay?”

“Wait.”  You pushedagainst Peter’s shoulders and he immediately leaned back giving you room tomove.  The words, “I’m sorry” died on hislips as he saw that you weren’t telling him you wanted to stop; you just neededroom to pull your camisole top over your head and off.

Peter’s lips descended upon yours once again.  You moaned into his mouth as he began totenderly massage your breasts.  Kneadingyour soft flesh; rolling your hardening nipples with his thumbs.

You brought your hands down to Peter’s hips, holding him inplace as you started to thrust your body up against his; you needed some kindof friction to take the edge off the dull ache between your legs.  He followed your lead and began grinding downon you as well.  His sweatpants doingnothing to camouflage his arousal.

As incredible as it was to feel Peter’s body rocking againstyours, you still needed more.  “Peter,”you said softly, “will you touch me?”

“Are you sure?”  You simplynodded your head in response.  Peterchanged his position until he was beside you. One of his legs resting against your inner thigh; his hardness pressing into your hip. He sucked on his fingers to get them wet before he slipped his handunderneath the waist band of your shorts and into your underwear.  

“Show me what you like.”

[mustardprecum]

Prompt: Witches

Will was the one who gave him to book, or the ‘grimoire’ as the kids demand he call it. To Steve it was another book that he had to read even though it was summer. 

“It has to be you because you’re the one that it reacted to,” Dustin explained over a cup of hot chocolate in Steve’s kitchen. 

“You’re a science nerd,” Steve sighed heavily, poking the heavy book that Dustin was trying to foist onto him. “Why do I have to explain to you that magic isn’t real?” 

“Steve, we’re literally dealing with monsters from a parallel dimension. Why would you possibly be skeptical about this?” 

“Because I’ve seen your D&D monsters. Something I’ve hit with a bat is different than casting spells or whatever.” The book seemed to hum as Steve continued to poke it. “Besides, how will we even know if it works?” 

“Look Steve,” Dustin ran his hands through his hair, knocking his cap off as he did. “We’re just taking all the precautionary steps that we can. We’re all doing stuff that seems stupid. Lucas even put a salt ring around his house.” 

Didn’t seem like a salt ring would last very long; Steve huffed. “Fine, fine, I’ll try the book thing,” he picked it up, shocked by the incredible weight. “Where did you even find this thing?” 

“Library.” 

Later than night, after a shift at Scoops Ahoy, Steve finally sat down to open the book. It was a bunch of old looking writing that took him a couple tries to read. Mostly it was directions for unspecified spells, some of it talked about ‘properties of nightshade’ whatever that meant, but one page caught his eye specifically. 

There was a big star with a diagram labeled ‘The Summoning Circle’. Steve got a pencil and a piece of notebook paper to practice copying the drawing. It was surprisingly easy, almost as if his hand moved on its own once he decided what he was going to do. 

Once it was completed, he turned the page where it layed out necessary offerings. There were words like ‘alu’ and ‘virgin essence’ that Steve didn’t quite understand. He got a beer out of the fridge, snipped a little bit of his hair off (it was virginal if he hadn’t dyed it before, right?), and took one of his mother’s diamond earrings out of his parents’ room. 

“Okay,” Steve arranged the notebook paper and items on the table and checked the book again. He had no idea how to pronounce the words on the next page, but he did his best. 

This would be enough to satisfy Dustin, he thought. Steve made an attempt to summon a protection-thing to help them against the Mindflayer and the Upside Down. 

He closed the book and was about to drop it back on the table when the lights in the kitchen suddenly began to flicker. 

Steve’s stomach dropped and he lunged toward the kitchen for a knife. Flickering lights were usually a very bad sign. But before he made it, the sound of the can opening sounded, and the lights stopped. 

Slowly, he turned back toward the table, watching as a corner of the paper bend and then abruptly burst into flame. It caught up his hair and the earring, making way more smoke than Steve thought it should. 

It filled the room and Steve only managed a single thought about getting some water to put it out before it all retracted. He blinked away the sting, and when he opened his eyes there was a man standing at the table. 

“Not bad,” said the man, turning his head. The diamond earring caught the light abnormally. He was smiling, but Steve couldn’t shake the strange dread pooling at the base of his spine.  

He recalled an old Bible his grandmother had, with a picture of an angel that had similar blond curls and blue eyes to the man. But the book, still in his hands, seemed to emanate the knowledge that the being in front of him was far from angelic. 

“Hi,” Steve forced out as he edged around the corner of the counter. “Did you come because, uh,” he tapped the book. 

“I did.” The man pulled a chair out and sat down easily with his legs spread out under the table. He was dressed in clothes that Steve later realized matched the cover of one of his magazines in the living room. “I haven’t seen a human in a while. Look how cute you are.” 

Steve blinked and tightened his grip on the book. “What are you?” 

“You can call me Billy,” this was coupled with a wink. “Sit down. Let’s talk about that contract.” 

“Contract?” 

“You called me here for a contract.” Billy said it matter-of-factly and a chair slid out from the table. “Sit down, Steve.” 

“There are demogorgons,” Steve started as he obediently moved toward the chair. “They keep getting through, even after we closed the gate.” 

Before he could launch into a full explanation of the situation, Billy held up a hand and Steve’s voice died in his throat. “I know,” he cooed, strangely instead of indignant, Steve felt soothed by the tone. “I’ll protect you from the monsters.” 

Steve wanted to ask what Billy wanted in return. 

The way Billy looked at him after the thought passed through Steve’s mind made him shiver. 

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Billy said.

[otuniyear2]

Notes for Essay (Essay Draft)

There are harsh colours and lighting used in both scenes, specifically the use of the colour red. In the Coraline scene, red is used to illuminate the area surrounding the character ‘The other Mother’ and in the Watership Down scene, red is used to brighten up the rabbit characters eyes. Red is a very intense and emotional colour. In the Coraline scene it can be interpretated in many ways however, it is a large contrast to the loving peach colours ‘The Other Mother’ dons earlier in the film. The red symbolizes an aggressive and angry tone which emanated from the character’s seat. It can also represent danger which both the viewer and the main character ‘Coraline’ would be able to see. Similarly, in Holly’s memory, in the Watership Down film, the colour red also has a very heavy influence over this scene. For the first and only time in this film, all the characters have red eyes. This is reminiscing to how albino rabbits’ eyes look however this is used in order to provoke the danger in this scene and the battle for survival.

In both scenes there is an emphasis on the eyes of the characters. For Coraline, it is one of the main themes of the story. In each scene, we as an audience are automatically drawn to the button eyes that are stitched over the ‘Other’ characters eyes. There are multiple camera pans and extreme close ups in this one scene in order to show the unsettling button eyes. It is unnerving for child viewers because it is left up to their imagination about how they are attached and sewn over or into the eye. I found that unlike Watership down, Coraline leaves a lot of the imagination of the viewer which is arguably worse than if it was just shown on screen. This is what caused a lot of sleepless nights for children and some adults. This style is very Uncanny Valley since eyes are considered to be the window to the soul. The buttons have an uneasy feeling to them since many rituals are taken once someone dies in order to weigh the eyes shut. This includes having coins placed other the eyes and this is because once you die, the eyes begin to change colour and turn pale. This becomes very unsettling for those who are still living. The buttons give the feeling that they do not belong.

 In Watership Down, the audience has become accustom to the rabbits animalistic and features that are pleasing to the eye one of which is said eyes along with the fur and small innocent stature. In this scene, along with the previously mentioned glowing red eyes which is a drastic change from the adorable big black eyes, there are animated to be realistic and almost human. This design choice is to show the fear and danger that these animals are in. There are multiple extreme close ups much like in Coraline where it shows detail in the realistically drawn rabbit eyes. This director’s choice is intentionally meant to scare the viewer. This causes an anxious feeling that is also reminiscing to the uneasy feeling we get when we see something from the Uncanny Valley. These rabbits are not meant to look cute anymore since it is a hopeless situation where they are dying.

When viewing these scenes, I noticed that both of these scenes use forms of body distortion. Both films take full advantage of their animation styles and techniques. Coraline used stop motion which already gives an eerie atmosphere with the use of animation puppets. The transformation of the sweet ‘Other Mother’ to a tall, slender, skeletal figure that would terrify any adult, let alone, a child. The animators used multiple different models to create the slow transition of a sweet mother to a scary witch. The transformation creates a sense of discomfort for the viewer as the body of the character becomes disproportionate. The camera pans up with the face of the other mother as she changes then cuts to a low, over the shoulder camera angel, looking up at the ‘Other Mother’ and this allows us to see the ‘Other Mother’ from ‘Coraline’s’ perspective and show the scale of this monster. This scene is one of the most traumatic scenes for children in this film since unnatural movement of the human body and very minor body horror can cause young viewers to become distressed. Along with this, the inclusion of a child being told off by a parental figure is something that all children can relate to and will feel a sense of fear, seeing it happen of screen.

In the ‘Watership Down’ scene, body distortion is also used in the films 1978 traditional 2D animation style. Frame by frame, there is more detail in this scene when compared to others in the film. Wrinkles and extra lines are drawn on the characters to show the characters getting crushed and disfigured. At some points the rabbits almost morph into each other and become unrecognisable and indistinguishable, almost like they are morphing into a single entity as they are crushing each other, desperate for escape. At points, the heads detach from their bodies and leave a trail of ghostly mist, representing the gas that was used to suffocate the rabbits in their own burrow. The old fashioned 2D animation style perfectly emphasises the horror that is occurring, it also gives the animators the freedom to create abstract and imaginative movements that can be best represented through 2D animation and would be difficult to replicate in stop motion animation without using CGI.

After analysing both scenes, the question still stands: “Where do we draw the line in terms of horror?” It is important that we know how much children can tolerate. The genre of ‘Coraline’ is Fantasy, Horror however, the genre of ‘Watership Down’ is Survival and Adventure. ‘Watership Down’ shows the harsh reality of what rabbits go through in their daily life. Many people share a similar opinion to me in the sense that the rating for ‘Watership Down’ is too low and is not suitable for young audiences since it is very gruesome. ‘Coraline’ does not show any blood but in a way is just as scary for children since the world building for the film and the inclusion of the moral decay in the modern family dynamic.

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Mute oneshot in which, as usual, utter chaos happens and I attempt an explanation as to where these pink Siege skins came from. (Rating M, crack + some sexiness going on, ~2.7k words) - written for @glockchen​ who asked me to write anything about these skins and I could never say no to you ♥♥♥

.

It starts with a simple drawing.

As it’s a perfectly normal morning in Hereford, the canteen, including the kitchen, is in complete and utter chaos: Caveira has followed through with her threat of disgustedly pouring what she calls bleached bullshit (also known as refined sugar) into Dokkaebi’s collar because the Korean woman forgot to buy ‘proper’ sugar, sparking a small war in their corner of the room, Blitz is currently burning the third batch of eggs and looking to his boyfriend for approval (and Rook reacts with a pained smile), and Bandit is surreptitiously trying to trip everyone walking past while pretending to be an angel in Montagne’s direction.

Mute and Smoke are sitting somewhere in the middle of all this, only half listening to Sledge’s tired mantra of they’re all adults they can clean up after themselves don’t get up let them make their own mistakes and learn.

“Gargle is such a typical, ugly English word”, Maestro muses and feeds the Scotsman a bite of his cheesecake because who needs breakfast food when there’s cake. “It’s onomatopoeic, agreed, but if the love of my life told me ‘I just gargled with maple syrup’ I wouldn’t care how sweet the kisses were because it’d be the same as if I proclaimed myself to be moist. Ugh.”

“I dunno, it can be pretty romantic”, Smoke shrugs and surreptitiously rolls his eyes at Mute – it’s clear why, the two lovebirds next to them are once again wholly lost in each other. “I sometimes gargle with Mark’s come and he never complains.”

Sledge chokes on the cheesecake and looks like he’s about to protest the mention of bodily fluids while he’s eating (and Mute gets ready to retaliate by pointing out the bright purple lovebites peeking over the Scot’s collar as well as the faint bruises on Maestro’s neck), when there’s a sudden, dramatic entrance. The door flies open and in strides Tachanka, head held high, stance proud and a fond smile on his lips.

Most of the ruckus dies down over the abrupt change in mood as the Russian makes a beeline for the fridge, carefully stepping over Bandit’s outstretched foot, avoiding the two flailing women and ignoring the sharp smell emanating from the stove. Now Mute notices the piece of paper in Tachanka's hand which he unfolds and then pins to the fridge door with a few magnets. From this distance, all Mute can see is a whole lot of pink.

Seeing as most pairs of eyes are glued to the old man by now, Tachanka grins and addresses the room with his booming voice: “If you ever ask yourself why the hell you’re still here – this is why.”

Curious, Mute leaves the quiet argument of what constitutes as revolting behind and joins the small crowd gathering around Tachanka, catching a better look of what seems to be a child’s drawing. It’s hard to make out at first as more than half of it is just a mix of different shades of pink, but eventually he identifies it as Tachanka himself holding what looks like a little girl, only his uniform has been recoloured from his usual olive and he’s displaying a horn as well as a mane and even a tail.

If he’s honest, it’s adorable. He knows the story, Glaz told it with a sheepish Tachanka modestly brushing him off but smiling appreciatively anyway: on their last mission, the old man heroically rescued a girl and made sure to carry her to safety and even reunite her with her parents. Judging by Tachanka's expression, it’s one of the most touching fan letters he’s received and he’s immensely proud, as he should be.

At least until Blackbeard steps up and snorts at the display. “Not at all your colour, I’m sorry to say, this looks like the gayest version of you”, he points out. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Says the guy with the man bun”, Pulse shoots back immediately.

“Is that bold-faced envy I hear? At least I have hair, Jack.”

“Yes. Too much of it. I’m just waiting for you to start stealing Sébastien’s plaid shirts.”

“I am comfortable enough in my masculinity to experiment with non-traditional looks, thank you very much. When’s the last time you changed anything about your appearance? I’ve seen your driver’s license. The only new thing about you are your wrinkles.”

Mute considers texting Smoke to stop demonstrating his ability to shove an entire piece of cake into his mouth and instead witness this rare American-on-American smackdown but forgets all about it when Tachanka, who’s been listening with a decidedly unimpressed scowl, chimes in: “You call yourself confident but mock this gift I got? Just because it’s pink?”

Belatedly, Blackbeard realises his mistake of potentially angering Tachanka of all people and tries to backtrack. “Well, I mean – only because you’d look silly wearing it. The picture is cute, but you in a pink uniform -”

“What’s wrong with a pink uniform?”

“It’s not really – it’s too visible, and you in pink is just laughable.”

“What’s wrong with me in a pink uniform?”

Mute is failing to suppress a grin by now. While Tachanka sounds perfectly calm and pleasant, Blackbeard is getting more and more flustered by the second. “It’s not a manly colour. You agree with me on that, right? You’d look stupid.”

“Pink used to be a boy’s colour, you know. A softer red, in a way. I think it’d suit you, it’d go with your hair.”

“I’d rather drop dead than be caught wearing something like this”, Blackbeard mutters and then wisely retreats before Tachanka's good mood dissolves into something else.

Amused, the Russian turns to Mute and mirrors his grin. “Confident in his masculinity, hm?”, he repeats doubtfully.

“We can actually make a pink uniform for you”, Mute suggests, causing Tachanka to perk up. “James has dyed clothes before.”

“Would you? I’m beginning to like the idea more and more. I can wear it during training and dazzle everyone.”

“I’ll even do you one better. Just wait a few days.” The two of them nod at each other and Mute returns to his table where Maestro is currently praising the soothing quality of green tea for an upset stomach. “James, I know what we’re going to do today”, he announces with a glint in his eye.

.

“Are you sure these are the correct measurements?”, Smoke complains for the nth time around the needles between his lips. Doubtfully, he holds up the patterned trousers and frowns at them, visibly dissatisfied. “They look too short, babe. They look like they’d fit me.”

Odd, isn’t it?, Mute thinks and bites his cheek until he trusts himself to reply without sounding highly entertained. “Those are definitely the correct measurements, I’m sure.”

“I bet you’re bloody grateful I can sew or else you’d still be watching Youtube tutorials.”

“I’m glad your mum made you fix the clothes you ripped on the daily, yes. Teaches you about the value of your time.”

“Teaches me not to buy expensive garb, more like. How’s your unicorn coming along?”

Mute takes a moment to inspect his work. After airbrushing one of Tachanka's helmets a lovely shade of pink, he started to add a few more personal touches he expects the Russian to enjoy: a pair of bear ears which Bandit owned – and no, Mute didn’t ask for details –, an actual unicorn horn he improvised out of a few available materials plus a mane made from faux fur which Frost generously donated once she caught wind of their project. He’s currently gluing letters onto the monstrosity since the rainbow he added for good measure has dried already. All in all, it’s solid work and he’s happy with it. If this doesn’t make Tachanka's teammates question some of what they thought they knew about him, then nothing will.

“See, I get why we’re making two of these abominations, babe, even if you haven’t told me the reason outright”, Smoke murmurs more to himself than directed at Mute, “but why three? Did anyone else want one? Are we gifting one to Dom? You know he’d wear it, especially with this sexy leopard print. Christ, we’re not giving the old man the leopard, are we? Because I’m sure he’d say something like ‘I have the underwear to match it’ and thank you, now we’ll need some brain bleach.”

“He’s not the only one I know who’d have matching knickers”, Mute states drily. “And Dom isn’t the only one I know who’d wear this.”

Smoke stops messing with the hem and throws him a deeply distrustful look. “Babe. Are you serious?”

“I have the perfect ears to go with it too.”

His quiet statement makes his lover’s brows rise. “They’re for me, aren’t they.” It’s not a question and so Mute doesn’t answer. “Really though – are you taking the piss or does the thought of me wearing this stuff actually turn you on?” Mute steadfastly refuses to respond and instead focuses on lining up the letters playfully. Maybe he could add glitter, yes, in any case he needs to not think about Smoke in a leopard print uniform, absolutely not squirming on his lap, the rappel harness flattering his thighs and soft mewls -

The rustling of clothes catches his attention and when he looks up, Smoke is half naked already. “What are you doing?”

“Trying it on, what does it look like? You want me to wear this, so I will.” He pulls on the finished pieces of his uniform and poses only partly jokingly. His arse looks amazing and Mute forgets how breathing works for a moment, resisting the urge to reach out and cop a feel because then they’ll never get it all done. “Bloody hell, this is tight.”

“Yeah”, Mute agrees distractedly and openly disregards the concept of eye contact entirely in favour of ogling other body parts, “like I said: definitely the correct measurements.”

Grinning, Smoke walks over to where he’s sitting and buries a hand in Mute’s hair to drag his head forward and smush his face into his exceedingly prominent bulge, ignoring the slight resistance and massaging Mute’s scalp once he’s started mouthing at the growing erection rubbing against his cheek. “Why don’t you get the ears, babe?”, Smoke hums and seems not at all perturbed by his unusual attire.

.

A few days later, Mute stands outside of Blackbeard's room, taking a deep breath and checking the time again. The American’s daily schedule is rigid and thus he’s been asleep for more than an hour at this point, not at all disturbed by the commotion outside of the base. They invited everyone interested, distributed beverages and promised a show, meaning there’s a sizeable crowd outside waiting for the main event to happen – whatever it’s supposed to entail.

Tachanka's uniform garnered a lot of approval, and Mute was especially proud to hear almost everyone complimenting his admittedly fabulous helmet, but the real treat hasn’t even surfaced yet.

Once he deems himself ready, he barges into the room and starts shaking Blackbeard awake rudely. “Get up, Jenson, come on, we need you, there’s a situation.” He does his best to appear urgent, and to his credit, Blackbeard is up on his feet before he’s even processed anything that’s going on. “Hostage taken in London, we need to fly out ASAP, get dressed and let’s go!”

He left the door open to let just enough light in for the American to not crash into his furniture as he stumbles about the room, getting dressed and mumbling something incoherent. Mute leaves him no time to think, talking rapidly out of his arse and ushering him out of the room and down the corridor. Blearily, Blackbeard allows himself to be manhandled and merely responds with a few grunts, but once they’re outside and in the middle of the sizeable gathering, he realises that something is off.

Being greeted with cheers, Blackbeard looks around in confusion until his gaze lands on Tachanka toasting him with a can of beer. “The fuck are you wearing?”, he asks and eyes the unicorn helmet in disbelief.

“The fuck are you wearing?”, Tachanka shoots back good-naturedly.

Finally, Blackbeard looks down at himself. He’s clad entirely in pink, mirroring the Russian perfectly. “What”, he says helplessly.

“I told you it’d go with your hair.”

And while the two start bickering immediately, with Blackbeard pompously proclaiming his intent to undress this instant and Tachanka amusedly egging him on, much to the audience’s delight, Mute feels a tug on his sleeve, turns around and mutters a curse under his breath. “I told you not to wear this outside”, he hisses and tries his best not to glance down at Smoke’s dangerously tight trousers.

He’s wearing the full outfit sans mask, and the cat ears which allegedly pick up on brain activity and move accordingly are perked up in excitement. Smoke was amazed by them the first time he put them on and refused to take them off for an entire evening – and admittedly, Mute’s heart melted a little every time Smoke looked over at him and the ears shot up instantly.

Right now, however, his heart isn’t the body part most touched by Smoke’s appearance.

“I’ve been a naughty kitty”, Smoke purrs and begins wrapping himself around the taller man, “you should punish me.”

And while the whole thing in itself has nothing erotic about it, it achieves the desired effect nonetheless as Mute is overcome by the sudden urge to stuff Smoke’s mouth.

Before he can act on it though, Bandit appears by their side, ignoring Blackbeard's repeated insistences that while pink is apparently a feminine colour, there’s nothing wrong with femininity, it’s just not for him (and Tachanka merely lets him talk with a partly disbelieving, partly entertained smile). “Have you seen Gilles? I don’t know where he is.”

“He said something like ‘I have one of these’ when he saw Chanka and then disappeared”, Smoke informs him helpfully and receives a concerned frown. “No idea what he was on about but he seemed excited.”

“Well, he better not be -”

Bandit trails off in horror and neglects to shut his mouth, so Mute and Smoke follow his line of sight while most of the noise around them dies down as well. It quickly becomes clear why: Montagne’s standing in the doorway to the base, wearing – well. What is he wearing?

Only on the second glance does Mute discern the butterfly pattern, noticing that it even continues over his balaclava, harmonises well with the hot pink helmet and – are those feelers?

Montagne catches sight of Smoke’s attire and nods approvingly. “That’s… a choice”, he states. “Maybe a little too racy but I don’t dislike it.”

“What do you think is going on here?”, Bandit addresses him weakly and looks torn between wanting the ground to swallow him whole and wanting the ground to swallow Montagne.

Now the Frenchman seems to be questioning himself, expression turning sheepish. “Isn’t this… these aren’t designs for breast cancer awareness? I thought -”

“See! That would be the only acceptable occasion for a man to ever wear pink!”, Blackbeard tells Tachanka triumphantly while pointing almost accusingly at Montagne, sparking yet another discussion now involving most of the people present.

“Does it look bad?”, Montagne wants to know sadly and only cheers up once Bandit has walked over to reassure him and started to play with his antennae – Mute can only imagine the amount of willpower it takes for Bandit not to make a thousand inappropriate and/or sarcastic jokes at once.

Not that he’s in a much better situation, seeing as Smoke is attempting to seductively meow in his direction. Sighing, he grabs Smoke’s wrist and drags him along. “You look hot but please never pretend to be a cat again. Promise me, James.”

“If I do, am I allowed to wear this on a mission?”

Smoke’s bright smile is going to be his doom one day, he knows this. He predicts quite a lot of arguing about the use of this particular outfit but can’t really say that he minds, not when they do most of their fighting in bed.

And maybe he’ll tell Smoke to put the mask on this time as well.

[saintheartwing]

Undertale: Frost, Pt.2

Monsterkind had been stuck with table scraps, with a kingdom divided between human and monster, forced to share cities and borders and resources with a species that distrusted, disliked, despised and denigrated them. If Grillersby could just get one foothold, one bit of land back that could belong to monsters alone…it would be worth it.

Of course, they couldn't make it openly clear what they were up to. As far as the rest of the European nations and kingdoms knew, Monsterkind didn't have any type of organized campaign against any human ANYTHING. And "Grillby" was going to make sure it stayed that way. They'd overtake one nation at a time, slowly but carefully, until they had a proper, real home of their own. A continent of their own. It was just going to take a bit longer than they'd thought.

That night, Elisud snuck his way out of the castle, and knelt down by the outskirts in his sleeping clothes, his expression mournful and depressed as he picked up what laid in big, huge heaps all about the grass.

Dust. The remains of monsters was always, always dust, for their very bodies were made of magic. Then a monster died, they left no trace of their existence behind, a thought that made Elisud shudder in disgust as he felt the dust seep down from his palm. To think, an entire species that could only do what cremation-esque type burials. Disgusting. So…so pagan, so…so backward, it seemed so…cruel. To not even have a body to cry over.

He slowly rose back up, sighing sadly as he turned to head back inside the castle, but then stopped, feeling as though he was being watched. He glanced backwards…

The Final Froggit was a good, long, distance away, and glaring angrily at him. Elisud bit his lip…and then headed back for the castle, drawing up the bridge over the moat as he did so, even as the Final Froggit kept gazing balefully in his direction. He sighed as he entered his room, and then took out a small bit of parchment, beginning to write.

"I've sad tidings. We were attacked by monsters. Froggits, led by one with a crown called a "Final Froggit", as I have been told. I tried to get them to leave peacefully, offering them gold beforehand, but they would not listen to me. I feel terribly guilty about all of this. You've much experience with them. Could there be some way I could reach out to them? Write me back soon, my dearest and most secret friend. Tell me how you fare.

Best of wishes, Toriel, from your friend…

Esliud."

With that, he signed his name on the parchment, sealed it up, and put it away in a satchel. Tomorrow, he'd take it into town and have it mailed. He yearned to hear Miss Toriel's soothing words…she always knew exactly what to say. It had been her who'd given him those books on the Church and inspired him to become a monk just as she was inspired to try and join the church in HER hometown.

He wondered how that was going…

...

...

...Wingdings Gaster, better known as W.D Gaster, was currently holding onto his mother's hand as firmly as he could. The little monster glanced quietly up at his mother Arial, a slightly nervous expression on his face as they finally made their way to the marketplace in town, people's talking somewhat quieting down as the two approached a stall. Gaster nervously smiled up at the stall owner, who glanced at him, then at Arial, her blue eyes gazing into the black sockets of the skeletal being before her.

Skeleton monsters, "revenants", that was what was whispered under the breaths of many who were looking upon these people. Little Gaster had a big, floppy, grey sweater and a large red scarf, glasses on his face and with a cute little smile…his mother's smile. You couldn't exactly say he had his mother's eyes, for skeleton monsters didn't truly have "eyes". They had big black eye sockets that could somehow still be so expressive, that it was almost impressive how fluidly their jaws could move and their eyes could flitter. It was as if they really had faces…despite being skinless.

The stall owner had a somewhat pockmarked face and sighed deeply, folding her arms over her chest, her face somewhat sagging along with her breasts. She looked out of shape, sad, and tired, Gaster thought to himself, and a wave of pity welled in him as the woman finally adjusted the little cap she had atop her head, and spoke in the King's English. "What do you want today?"

Arial examined the collection of vegetables and fruit assembled before her in the stand as Gaster, in turn, glanced around at the humans looking at him. They kept stealing glances in his direction, some of them muttering and mumbling in rather baleful voices. It was disappointing to hear them murmuring so coldly. Not half an hour ago, Gaster had been seeing them looking upon that sweet Ms. Toriel with awe and wonder, but when it came to someone like HIM, and to his family-There were always rumors about his kind. The biggest being that they weren't natural monsters at all, that all of them had been dead humans at one point that, brought to life anew, were now monsters, and because skeletons so deeply reminded humans of themselves, maybe this was why their kind were so feared and-

Then it happened. She made her way over to the market. Her green hair flowed through the air alongside her husband's fiery red hair, their locks almost intertwining in the wind that blew. She had blue, somewhat pale skin, and sharp fangs within her jaws, and her eyes were golden, with dark black pupils, yet despite all this…she was a beauty to behold. People's heads were turning, and soft "oh's" rang out through the air as she and her husband held hands. Her tightly-fitting, short-sleeve attire appeared to be some kind of cross between a fisherman's outfit and gladiatorial armor, there were distinct, impressive-looking steely armor plates on careful parts of her body, like at her shoulders and the gauntlets she wore, and the fancy looking belt. But even then, none of it gleamed as beautifully as the necklace she had around her blue neck, golden and softly glittering.

"You've got a ichthys!" Gaster announced aloud in his soft voice. The faintest undertone of his race's natural cadence very slightly lingered in how he spoke, but King John's English came out clearly from his bony mouth as he gazed at the mer-woman and her fisherman husband. "A Jesus fish necklace! That's so pretty!"

He saw she was looking at him, and he blushed visibly and turned away, as the woman's husband stared a bit in surprise."…I had no idea your kind could speak such excellent English." He told Gaster, scratching at the blonde hair poking out underneath his cap, blue eyes gazing at his wife's golden ones as she smiled back, then smiled at Gaster.

"Glad you like. I fished it out of the depths of the ocean. Its previous owner shan't need it any longer." She commented as the assembled in the market gazed on, still transfixed by her erotic beauty as she then kissed her husband on the cheek. "In the same place I met my husband, no less. He saved me from a shark. Guess your lot aren't all unchivalrous after all."

"Well, I try." Her husband said with a small smile back as Arial paid up the pockmarked stall woman for several rolls of cabbage and potatoes, with some apples as well for their dinner that week. "Is the cabbage any good today?"

Arial sniffed at the cabbage, the pockmarked stall woman raising a thick eyebrow up. "…how CAN you smell when you've no nose?"

"All monster bodies are magic, miss." Gaster offered to her. "We can taste when we've no tongues, after all! And your apples are always delicious."

"And the cabbage has a fine, fresh smell today." Arial remarked with a nod. "Here, for your troubles. I know your family's garden has been beset with incidents as of late. My sincerest sympathies." She added, giving an extra gold coin to the pockmarked stall woman. "Thank you kindly for your business, Ms. Burroughs."

The pockmarked stallwoman hesitated, and then she smiled slightly. "Please, call me Anne." She said, nodding as she took the gold coin, and let the mer-woman and her husband approach.

 "Do tell me Melusine, how's your daughter, Undyne?"

"Old enough to finally wrap her little finger around mine." The "mer-woman" said with a big, toothy, fanged grin. "She's STRONG, Anne. Truly strong."

"And thankfully, she got my hair!" her husband laughed. "She looks good with her little red locks."

"You know, Francis, you're right. Red IS a good look on us." The mer-woman mused aloud, giving her husband another soft kiss on the cheek, a few of the gentlemen watching all this transpire in the market sighing sadly, or grumbling.

"Lucky dog."

"Some men get all the luck."

"Only thing I'VE ever fished out of the water's a bloody shoe."

Meanwhile, Gaster and his mother were now making their way back home when Gaster took notice of somebody walking not far behind. But he didn't have time to tell his mother as-THRUMPH. They deliberately bumped into him and knocked him towards the ground. 

"Oops. Sorry!" The woman remarked with a sneer as she had one arm wrapped around her husband, having used her shoulder to forcibly knock the young skeleton monster to the ground. "You really should watch where-"

A soft, blue glow emanated from Arial's eyes as the woman and her husband's mouths hung open. Gaster was now wrapped in a faint aura of blue light and being gently hovered up, up! He'd been inches from the street and was now being put back on his feet as Gaster turned around and Arial murmured "Quickly, Gaster."

"I'm very sorry. Forgive my clumsiness." He said, reciting rote for rote what he had to, and giving a bow, then gesturing with both arms for the humans to keep walking. The husband and wife couple now had a distinctly dark flush to their cheeks as they sauntered off, Gaster sighing a bit as he wiped his brown upon the grey sweater he had, he and mother making their way down the street, Arial's beautiful-looking, silvery armor glinting in the noonday sun. He really didn't much like having to apologize for what they'd done, but he'd had to do that so many times, it was now almost instinct.

"We'll be home soon." His mother sighed. "Then we can get started on making-"But it was then that cries and yells rang through the air, and Gaster and Arial smelled the unmistakable scent of flames breaking out. They turned their heads, seeing that houses were going up in flames, billowing black smoke quickly manifesting and choking the sky as people ran left and right in terror."Gaster, take our groceries. Head home immediately. NOW."Arial demanded of her son as she forced the groceries into his arms, Gaster concentrating to hover some of them around him so that they didn't all flop out of his arms. 

Arial barreled her way towards the fire, yelling out loudly as she turned to others. "WATER! We need buckets of water! Water, now!" She cried aloud.Gaster gazed in awe at the fluidity with which her blue magic was working. She swiftly stretched her arms as big, large buckets of wood shot across the air from stands and stalls and outside the doors of people's nearby houses, sliding down into the closest well, over and over. Her eyes glistened with the same blue light that shone from her gauntleted hands, her armored frame working hard as she used the buckets of water to splash at the fire.

Gaster didn't want to leave his mother behind, to not watch her work, he was in awe at this, his mouth gaping open, people watching nearby, looking astounded and mesmerized. Blue magic was a rarity among monsters. ONLY the skeletons could do it. Nobody else could! Well…nobody but-TWHOOOOOSH! 

Even more enormous buckets of water were being poured down, at the base of the fires that were trying to spread. The air was becoming less choked with foul blackness as Arial turned and saw a long-haired young man who had flowing locks of white hair, his head covered by a tight-fitting cap. He wore the robes of a mage, distinctly grey but with ornate, swirling, fancy trimmings and a belt buckle with ornate designs emblazoned, his booted feet taking a firm position on the ground as he held his soft hands high. His eyes were also glowing a brilliant blue as stood alongside a rather UGLY looking monster that had a face not even a mother could love.

It was 'Gerald'. 

Gaster cringed, shaking his head back and forth as he quickly began to walk off. The assembled onlookers who had momentarily been awed and amazed by the sight before their eyes were now muttering and mumbling to themselves. Gerald. That type of monster was so…unlikable. Gerald had a rather unusual body type, ooblong, with a big center "hump" in the middle, foul-looking, black-pupiled eyes and unpleasant nostrils and lanky arms and tiny little legs. Everything about him just looked so…disgusting and unnatural. On top of that, he smelled rather foully, and his skin color reminded you of a dead body. Worst of all though…His kind had done the one thing many monsters absolutely could not forgive. They had joined the Royal Court along with one or two other individual monsters and agreed to teach humans specific types of magic, to help bring out the potential of royal mages like this one apparently was. It was one thing to fall in love with a human, monsters could almost forgive that, they could overlook it, even understand it to a degree. Love was, after all, blind. Love was love. And being friends with a human, well…you could understand that too if one had interests that aligned but…To have your family line side with the government that barely did anything to help monsters that lived in human territory? Disgraceful!

 And to think, the one selling these magical secretsto humans was from THAT race, a monster race that had one power and one power alone…slightly amplifying the abilities of others around them.Gerald's family was so…PATHETIC. It was a joke among monsters. They only made your abilities last for an extra fifteen seconds. The "Fifteen Second Failures". They couldn't throw fireballs, couldn't move boulders, couldn't manifest bombs or spears, they weren't super strong, or fast, they just made other people's powers work a bit better and longer.

Gaster "hmmphed", as the visage of his mother and Gerald and the human mage was now long behind him. The mere idea of Gerald made him cringe. He couldn't forgive somebody who had insisted the entire family line work for the royal court. It felt like…like whoring yourself and your kind out.The fire had finally died out, and people were milling away, the royal mage's grey eyes looking over at Arial as she glanced down at Gerald.

"…I had it under control." She mumbled quietly. "I did not exactly need your help."

"I think the Blums would beg to differ." Gerald offered as he gestured at the small family who was huddled in front of their barely-still-standing house, which was still heavily charred, though not utterly ravaged as the human mage approached and held out a hand."Is there anyplace you can stay while you get back on your feet, Mr and Mrs. Blum? Gerald and I can help-"

"Look, we're very grateful you helped, but…" Mr. Blum hesitated as he put one arm around his wife, who cringed a bit. "We, er…we don't really want any charity from you."

"We'll be fine, we'll…find someplace to stay on our own." Mrs. Blum muttered, looking away from Gerald and the mage, and off to the side as the mage's expression fell. He looked genuinely hurt, glancing from them to Arial to Gerald before finally putting his hands in his pockets.

"…very well then. Perhaps I shouldn't bother in the future. And I'd wash your clothes if I were you." He added as he turned away from them and began to swiftly walk off, Arial calling out after him as Gerald began to head after the mage as well.

"You are being incredibly petty."

"I'M being petty?!" The mage now wheeled about, and Arial flinched, the young man's face was positively livid. "I saved their home and I was offering help for absolutely NOTHING and neither you nor them could even give me so much as a THANK YOU for what I did." He said, glaring angrily at the Jewish couple as Mr. Blum tried to return the dark glare.

"I thought your Christian teachings taught you that virtue was its own reward, and doing good for the sake of such defeats the very purpose of-"

"Don't hide behind that, you just don't want to thank me because I'm one of THEM, the same group of "them" that my master is in!" The royal mage snapped, Mr. Blum flinching as Mrs. Blum grasped her husband tightly, the young man wheeling around at Arial. "You don't CARE that I tried to help, all you see is the "other" you dislike, rather than what I actually am. How's that any damn different from the people that call you 'revenant' in whispers as you walk past them, claiming your race only exists because you're dead humans brought to life?"

Ariel, if it were possible, would have turned paler than normal. "Th-that's not…y-you don't…we monsters have to endure such cruelty every day-"

"Boo hoo, so do we, but we get it from both sides." The royal mage snapped, gesturing at Gerald. "At least your type sticks by each other. Nobody sticks by us. Not even the royal court. It's an arrangement. The moment we're not useful to them anymore, they'll toss us aside. We accepted that, because we'd rather have cynical acceptance from them, than disdain from people like you." The royal mage growled angrily, shaking furiously, looking like he was seconds from decking Arial across the face. "You have a nice day. And don't bother calling for help from Gerald and I anymore. We won't bother if you can't even bring yourself to say "thank you". You UNGRATEFUL PILES OF DUNG."

And with that, he stormed off, Gerald quietly sighing and shaking his head. "My poor student is still not quite used to his life."

Arial "harrumphed". "And he's got quite the mouth on him. You could stand to teach him manners along with mag-"

"His poor behavior doesn't eclipse your own." Gerald remarked. "At least the court puts on a smile, fake as it is, when they see us. Your ilk spit on me and disowned my family. Don't act like your hands are clean. " He coldly intoned at Arial, making her flinch a bit. "There's no such thing. Especially not from skeleton monsters. Good day."

With that, he trotted off in the direction the mage went, leaving Arial and the Blums alone to silently stew and think over what they'd just had thrown in their face, the final wisps of fire smoke softly lingering above their heads.

...

...

...

..."Cu Chulainn! Cu Chulainn! Cu Chulainn! Cu Chulainn! CU CHULAINN! CU CHULAINN! CU CHULAINN! CU CHULAINN!"

The wind was soaring across the plains, the skies clear as day as the chanting filled the air. Scottish warriors with shining armor stood side by side, the plating gleaming in the morning light. They weren't really wearing much on their legs, but that was for a simple reason…what mattered was speed. So they had more of an armored SKIRT than proper plate leggings. Many were also wearing chain mail on their frames and looked suitably impressive, though, admittedly…as nice as their glorious green and red colors were, they weren't looking nearly as good as the monsters that stretched wide across the valley before them.The monsters were many in number, with shining, glittering plate armor. Their helms and various full-form helmets shone silver in the light of day as many carried sharp, piercing spears and swords, or lifted their shields high to display the royal symbol of the Monsters, three triangles, one slightly raised in the middle, the other on equal footing with one another. The monsters had on clearly high quality armor, and their eyes gazed out at the human that stood in front of the assembled Irish forces.

He was IMPOSSIBLE to miss. Especially since everyone behind him and around him kept shouting his name.

"Cu Chulainn! Cu Chulainn! Cu Chulainn! Cu Chulainn! CU CHULAINN! CU CHULAINN! CU CHULAINN! CU CHULAINN!"

He had rather dark-toned skin for an Irishman, with eyes that were piercing, sharp, and grey. His hair was brown at its base, in the middle, it was a rather fiery, vivid red, and a fine crown of blonde hair at the top, and smoothly flowing down his head. Each long loose-flowing strand hung down in shining splendor, down his back, over his shoulders, with adorable dimples, he looked eternally youthful in a way that the Greeks would have admired. Cu Chulainn was, in a word…beautiful. Simply, absolutely beautiful, with his well built frame, majestic chest armor, and the rounded golden helm atop his head glowed like the sun itself in the morning light as slid his sword out of its scabbard and raised his shield off his back, standing at the ready as he looked out over the expanse…

There his opponent was. Asgore stood there, the strong-bodied male púca clad in armor befitting the son of the King of Monsters. He was a magnificent sight indeed, his gaze firm, his jaw set, powerful and well-built, eyes as blue as a Robin's egg, yet even so, despite appearing to be the pinnacle of his race's physical perfection, his white fur softly blowing in the wind, Cu Chulainn could see he was shaking very slightly as he turned to address his own troops.

"My father's made this very clear. We're going to take back our land. Take back the country that's been stripped from us, one inch at a time. I had hoped it would never, ever come to this. But the people of Ireland aren't cooperative at all, and if they continue to deny us our most basic of rights, the right to a home of our own, well…that isn't something I can abide by!" Prince Asgore proclaimed. "I know so many of you may be disgusted and saddened by this…but I know many, many more of you want to give these thieves a good old THUMPING!" Asgoreroared out, holding his enormous spear high as it caught the gleam of the sun. "So today! Today is the day we show the humans we can give as good as we get! Today, we reclaim our freedom, our land! Today we honor my Father's wishes!"

"Men…" 

Cu Chulainn, in turn, turned around to his own assembled troops. The warrior mage's eyes glittered as he spoke. "…I'm not much for big speeches. At all. I'm sure some of you might want me to give one, but most of you probably just want me to get out there and show the monsters why I am who I am. So. How about I go do that while he's still going on and on?" He inquired in his rather rough, somewhat punkish voice.

The men all grinned, and then began to bang their swords and shields and other weapons against the shields they had, as Cu Chulainn took off, running, holding his sword and shield high as he tore across the valley plains, letting out a roar of delight, Asgore wheeling around.

"Ask not what your nation can do for-oh! OH, he-he's actually coming right now! Very well! He asks for Hell…let us give it to him!" Asgore proclaimed, as he held his spear up. "CHAAAAAARGE!"

Bunnies clad in powerful chest plate armor let out squealing cries of delight, clanging their maces and swords against their shields as they surged forth. Dragons roared powerfully, tails slightly swishing about like an excited dog as they raced at Cu Chulainn! The merpeople had their tridents and short swords ready, spinning them as they barreled forth, aided by the disturbingly-cheery front line of skeletal warriors who were holding maces and clubs high in the air.They all ran towards Cu Chulainn as he, in turn, readied his sword…and a distinctly powerful blue glow emanated from his eyes. THA-THROOOOOM! Like thunder clapping, he leapt up, high, high in the air, propelled by the most basic of all human magic…blue magic, master of what would be called gravity. He twirled about, and before their eyes, his own pupils now flashed a new color, the color…Orange.He landed down, striking with his sword, a SHAKKA-KAA-THROOOOOM noise filling the air, a shockwave of orange energy cascading forth, as the first wave of monstrous soliderswas sent spiraling back. 

The mer-people, however, had seen this coming…and so had one particular skeleton.Garamond held his enormously, freakishly big sword high as he grinned with pride, the powerfully-built skeleton's majestic scarf flapping in the wind as the mer-people managed to close in around Cu Chulainn. KLANG-KLANG-KLANG! Weapons smacked and clashed against each other, echoing through the air as Cu Chulainn grinned devilishly, and twirled about. His blade glowed with the same orange magnificence as before, one eye orange, the other…blue!He held up his shield, and it shot forward, slamming hard into one of the mer-people, knocking him clean into his compatriot as they both crashed down, and his sword sliced off the arm of another merman who had tried to cut off Cu Chulainn's head. SCHLLLUGHK! 

The merman shrieked, reeling back as Cu Chulainn ducked just in time to avoid another swipe from several short swords, and he sliced upwards at another merman with his orange-blazing blade. KRA-KRRRRRKK! The chain mail on her frame was torn away in an instant and he kicked her into her compatriots as he turned to Garamond."This time…you won't catch me off-" Garamond insisted as he swung his enormous sword at Cu Chulainn…CLAAAAAAAAANG!The shield had returned. Cu Chulainn's left eye blazed blue, the other still burning orange as he lifted up his own sword, forcing Garamond back a few steps. Garamond growled, and pushed forward, trying to shove Cu Chulainn down to his knees. 

"On your knees, human! Today you pay for cutting my foot off!" He growled, as the metallic boots he wore glittered a bit in the midday morning sun.Cu Chulainn remembered the moment like it was yesterday. Although more accurately, it had happened a month had been racing at him, swinging his sword…and Cu Chulainn had ducked just in time and swiped with his own, taking Garamond's right foot clean off. Now the skeletal monster had put up extra thick metal boots and gauntlets to ensure this couldn't happen. 

CRRRRNNNGGG! Cu Chulainn flinched a bit. He could see the other monsters were coming closer and closer, Asgore himself was following right behind, and Garamond had clearly been training, he was pushing so hard! It was becoming an effort just to stand up and push back against the skeleton monster, the Irish war hero flinching as his blade and shield combined clasped together, against Garamond's freakishly large blade. He grunted, Garamond's black eyes narrowing."My leg hurts every day for what you-"

Cu Chulainn could try and force the sword back with a big, final burst of strength. He could reel back in an attempt to dodge. But instead…he did something else. He'd never had much success at this before, he was amazing at doing it to himself, but other people, with their own souls? Much more difficult.

"Oh shut up."

BOINK!

Garamond was blue now. He stupidly stared forward for a second…and then he was shot backwards at high speed. THWOOOOOOOOOOSH! Across the grass he went, slamming into the line of monsters that had been racing to his aid as Asgore managed to duck just in time. He cringed as he saw Garamond struggling to lift himself up along with the tangled mess of monsters he'd landed in, and turned to see Cu Chulainnsmiling a bit in surprise.

"I'll be damned, it worked." The warrior mage commented, before holding his sword at Asgore, tilting his head a bit, and then letting loose a loud whistle that rang through the air. With this signal, his men shot forward, barreling at the caught-off-guard and still-recovering monsters, as Cu Chulainn readied his sword and shield and firmly gazed into Asgore's eyes, taking on a battle stance.Asgore knew what this Irish battlefield master wanted. He had to end this quickly, or Cu Chulainn would do that…THING he did when he got mad. That disturbing, frightening, terrifying thing that made human and monster alike refer to him as more Demon than man.And so Asgore swung his sword as it CLA-KLAAAANG'ed against Cu Chulainn's own. 

The striking metallic echoes of swordplay were filling the air, the monsters barely able to get back on their feet as the Irish warriors finally reached them. The first casualties of the battle had finally been inflicted, and the humans could claim first blood. Or rather, the humans could claim first DUST, for a spearman forcibly shoved his weapon through the stomach and out the back of a merman warrior who had swung too fast and early at the Irishman before him. The merman dropped his short swords, faintly gurgling, as if drowning on dry land, and then-He began to dissolve away into naught but dust before the Irishman's eyes. 

Twas the fate of all monsters…upon death, they were as dust.

"Keep at it!"

"We've got them on the run!"

"Get 'em!"

"Gotcha now!"

The jubilant cries of the humans were filling the air. They were buoyed by these early victories and inspired to push even harder. The formations of the monster side were collapsing right before Asgore's eyes as Cu Chulainn and he kept locking swords. "You're clearly just…ERGH! As strong as they've always said!"The dark-skinned Irishman was silent, just looking back at Asgore, who cringed a bit. His arms were getting tired, the sheer force of will emanating from Cu Chulainn's very eyes unsettled him, and combined with how difficult it was to parry and block the human's moves, Asgore was getting very, very tired. He wasn't exactly used to fighting for so long on the front line."You're not…going to…even say anything?" Asgore finally asked, sweat beginning to dribble down his brow, the monster seeing Cu Chulainn's brow furrowing ever-so-slightly. "Nothing at all?"

"I speak when there's words in my heart to speak." He finally intoned. "I'm not in the mood to talk on the field of battle-"An arrow that had been shot at another soldier went KA-BONK! Clean off his shield, and then sliced itself across Cu Chulainn'sneck. SPLOOOSH! A spray of red blood gushed forth, Cu Chulainn's eyes going wide, and in that instant, everyone on the battlefield froze up. Monsters who'd been inches away from their own death were spared as their would-be killers gazed upon the sight of the dark-skinned Irishman putting a hand to his neck. Blood dribbled out the side, drip-drip-dripping down as Asgore grinned."HA!" He could feel euphoria welling up in him, sheer joy rising before he remembered-

Oh dear. Cu Chulainn was looking…mad.

And when he got mad…he changed.

Cu Chulainn's wound wasn't that bad, it only looked awful. A skin flap, really, slightly peeled form his neck at just the right angle. He ripped it off, and his eyes began to change, as seven powerfully frighteningly piercing sharp pupils manifested within. They circled around and around, forming into an immensely big, demonic, diamond-shaped pupil of an eye as his skin became a horrifying burning reddish color, and his hands became pointed nails, and his body bulged in muscle, his teeth as daggers, his voice a horrific, distorted roar of a thing that brought chills to everyone there.

"WHO! SHOT! THAT! ARROW?!" He roared out, eyes barreling about. The monsters and the men present wisely decided to do the only thing that made sense. Immediately back away from everyone with a bow and arrow. One enterprising young lad had seen the danger coming and the keen rabbit monster had tossed his bow and his arrows away and plucked up the short shield and sword of a fallen comrade to act innocent as Cu Chulainn advanced towards the archers.

"…I…think we need to call for a tactical retreat." Asgore announced aloud.

"Oh, you can all leave." Cu Chulainn intoned quietly, dangerously, cracking his knuckles. "Soon as whomever shot that arrow steps up."The archers gulped. The Irish forces cringed in sympathetic pity as they began to move back, and Asgore cleared his throat.

 "Who, um…who shot it, then?" He inquired. "Let's, uh…let's just get it over and done with.” He was NOT going to let them do a "Spartacus". He knew that if he did, this…demon…would just kill them all. He couldn't let so many men die.Luckily he wouldn't have to, as Cu Chulainn took notice of the fact that the arrow had a specific tail. And it matched, at the moment, only ONE archer's arrows, the other having been the first kill of the battle. The quivering, terrified skeleton, Courier, cringed, looking even tinier than normal, eye sockets wide with terror as Garamond stepped forward.

"Don't you dare-"Cu Chulainn backhanded him. Asgore caught him just in time as the monsters took the opportunity to barrel out of there. None of the humans chased after them as the demon stood before Courier, who's slightly baggy archer's robes were shaking like a leaf along with the rest of his skinny frame.

"On. Your. Knees." Cu Chulainn growled. Courier quivered, slowly getting upon his knees as the demon grabbed hold of his shoulder with one hand, and raised his other up to the poor skeleton monster's neck. "Satisfy my curiosity. Your kind's heads. Do they come off?"

"I…d-don't k-know, s-sir, we've, um…n-not really t-tested what happens if s-someone just tries to…p-pop them off…" Poor Courier the archer squeaked out, his life flashing before his eyes, memories of training with Garamond, nights around the dinner table with his mother Arial, bemoaning the loss of their father Segoe, nights spent on Grandpa Gothic's lap with Gaster…

"Well. Good news for you, then." Cu Chulainn murmured in that roaring, distorted, creepily dark voice. "If it does just…pop off…and can come back on…you get to live."He tightened his grip on Courier's skull, and the skeleton began to SCREAM.

[fullmetalirin]

Fullmetal Alchemist OG: Episode 4

The filler begins.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 4: "A Forger's Love"

On their way to Central, the Elrics stop at a train station where they hear of an alchemist named Majhal, whose name had appeared several times in their father's correspondences relating to human transmutation, and decide to pay him a visit in the area. Upon entering Majhal's village, they encounter a girl named Clause, who tells them that a zombie has been murdering several of the villagers, her older sister being one of them. Clause petitions the brothers to avenge her sister's death, but Ed is skeptical of the whole situation. Upon meeting Majhal, he tells the brothers that the mysterious zombie is believed to be his former lover Karin, who died in an accident several years ago. After some more investigation, the brothers discover that Majhal has been attempting to revive Karin by using mannequins that look like her, and using alchemy to attach the souls of the village girls he has kidnapped to the mannequins, kidnapping Clause to use her soul. Ed discovers that Karin had not died, but initially lost her memories and has aged. Once her memories returned, she had sought out Majhal, but he was already too possessed by his passions of reviving Karin to recognize her. Majhal refuses to accept the wrinkled old woman who has been supporting him as his Karin, and he attempts to kill Ed. Ed knocks Majhal's weapon out of his hand, which flies into the air and accidentally impales Majhal, killing him. Clause reverts to dressing femininely and sees the brothers off as they continue on their journey.

We open with the brothers on the train to Central. We get more introspection. Ed makes sure Al is on board, Al says he wants to become a State Alchemist too so he can help Ed. They wonder if it'll be hard to become a State Alchemist, and Ed looks somber for a moment before declaring that it'll be no problem for someone of his talent. Al looks sad and Ed realizes he's thinking about Winry.

Cut to Winry and Pinako looking at the burnt home and talking about how stupid the Elrics are. Winry is crying, but also looks like she's quivering with rage. They hope the brothers will come home soon.

As the Elrics wait for the next train, they stop a purse-snatcher with alchemy. They use a rather large circle to do so, and I'm dubious of how they managed to draw one so quickly.

On the carriage ride to the village, Al feels good about himself because he used alchemy to help people.

When they arrive in the village, they get jumped by a gang of urchins. The Elrics prepare to fight, but are totally uncoordinated and trip over their own feet, allowing them to be easily captured. I think this is really cute, and emphasizes that we're in the past. The skilled fighting styles we saw in Liore clearly took time and experience to develop.

Majhal instantly recognizes Al as a bound spirit, despite that being rare knowledge. Foreshadowing!

When Majhal gives them supper, Ed loudly scarfs down the food, which we hear prominently even while Majhal is giving exposition. This amuses me. It's a good use of comic relief, but has a narrative purpose too: like them failing at the battle earlier, this reminds us that Ed's still a kid, and one who probably doesn't get big meals often.

When Clause shows up, she has a fit and runs away. Ed runs after her, but she trips and starts sliding towards the river. Ed quickly draws a circle in the dirt with a stick, and uses it to freeze the water to catch her. So he doesn't know he can transmute without a circle yet.

Also, we see a mechanism for how Ed was able to freeze the water from afar: the reaction travels from the circle to the river before it freezes. See, if only we had been shown that with Isaac's telekinesis I would have had no complaints. (The grass is also frozen along the line, so okay, fair: Isaac's reactions did need to emanate from the contact point, which is why he couldn't freeze Ed from his automail. Still would have been nice if we could have seen that more explicitly when he froze the first guy.)

We see an echo of Ed's dickishness towards Rose as he dismisses Clause's argument of "dead girl showed up once = dead girl killed my sister!" more rudely than it deserves. Clause insults both of them, calling Ed a pipsqueak and Al a trashcan; this actually gets to Al too, but he just sits in the background feeling gloomy while Ed rants, which I think is hilarious. There's a cartoon shift here, but I think it's appropriate, since the tension is low and this whole childish argument is silly.

Majhal sounds pretty creepy when he talks about Karin. The emphasis that what he remembers first about this long-dead person is her beauty is a little unsettling. It's a little hard to tell if we're supposed to take this as a hint he's evil or if it's framed as a normal thing for someone to say.

Majhal uses the transmutation circle on his wristband to amplify the flame of his lantern to burn the Karin mannequin… but it appears to be the same circle he used to mend a broken object earlier, and I'm pretty sure you need a different sigil for that.

There's a shot of Lust spying on them, but she dismisses Majhal as a weak alchemist. Ed notices her briefly as she walks away. So that's a good way of reminding us of the metaplot.

Majhal says that spirit vessels tend to reject dissimilar spirits, so Al is very special. It's not explained exactly how Ed was able to do it anyway with a jury-rigged solution he made while delirious from blood loss, so we're left to assume Ed is just very speshul. I disapprove. This isn't even necessary for the plot: the bound mannequins should want to lash out just from the fact that they're murder victims.

Majhal says he tried human transmutation and failed, but he doesn't appear to have lost any body function in the process.

Ed recognizes Karin by a blue rose in her hair. I… guess she normally kept it covered, but it's still a little weird no one ever noticed. Possibly she only put it there recently, when she tried to confess to Majhal.

"One day her memory returned in a flash!" I don't think that's how amnesia works.

Also, so what, they never found a body? How did no one find that suspicious?

Majhal transforms a tiny chisel into a giant sword with no clear source for the extra mass.

Ed is somehow able to draw a transmutation circle and transmute the rose into a whip before Majhal finishes charging.

Afterward, in an echo of his optimistic statement at the beginning of the episode, Al feels down because he's realized alchemy can be used for evil.

Aaand at the end we learn Clause is wearing a dress again, which is good because Ed tells her she looks prettier in one. Wow, that is some impressive message whiplash. Obsessing over a girl's beauty is wrong except when the heroes do it?

Conclusion

So yeah, this episode is not great. But I don't think it's a total wash either. This is effective in its use of origin story tropes: we can see how the Elrics started learning their martial skills, but also that they have a long way to go before they reach the level we see in present day. We also get some hints to the metaplot – a cameo from Lust, and a connection to Hoenheim and human transmutation. Unfortunately, the alchemic mechanics featured here don't fit with the rest of the series at all, but since it's a filler episode it's pretty easy to disregard them.

On representation: Clause's plotline is awful, yes. But I actually think the A-plot is rather nuanced. In most stories of this type, the fridged woman really is dead. Having Karin still be alive and having the man reject her anyway reinforces how truly awful he is, and shoots down potential apologism. And hey, it ends with a reverse fridging. It's hardly High Feminism, but it is something a little atypical. Even in this slapdash filler episode, these writers are willing to play with tropes instead of falling into total cliché.

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Already Gone - AU

Summary: He is death. In a form of a wolf, everything he touches die. Everything has to die one day… but he can’t help but feel empty… alone and cold. She is life. In a form of a human, she’s the light he’s looking for. And when the two meet… Everything changes.

Character: Derek Hale, Reader

Word count: 3715

A/n: First, I need to thank @roseringleader13​ for helping me proofread this fic I wrote months ago. I didn’t have the courage to post it cause it’s kinda my first AU? And it’s a bit sad. And deep. Anyway. This fic is highly based on this video (a sad video again) and this song, Already Gone by Sleeping at Last. A long time ago someone requested a fic with this song and I promised to write something. So here it is!

 He loved life.

She loved death.

He lived for her.

She died for him.

The rain no longer seemed to want to stop, mitigated by the thick foliage hiding the cloudy sky. The cold seemed to penetrate everywhere; wherever animals tried to protect themselves from the mortal temperature. But just as no one can escape the cold, no one can flee death that always comes with fall and the disappearance of heat. The little rabbits could try to find shelter, to hide, to disappear, but he always found them.

The black wolf walked alone in the dark and cold forest. Each of his steps cracked the branches beneath its broad paws. Everywhere he went, everyone fled. Animals, frightened, went in all directions to avoid crossing his bluish gaze. The cold accompanied him wherever he went. The plants would die in contact with his fur against the leaves or his paws on the roots.

Everything would die at his contact.

Death felt alone. In the form of a male wolf, the reaper of the forest was condemned to spend his life searching for the souls of the animals whose time had passed. Every day the bad weather accompanied him, bringing cold and diseases to the animals too weak to spend the winter. And every day he roamed the forest, touching with a sad paw a poor animal to take away his soul. Every day the black wolf sank a little more into solitude and sadness. He didn’t like to kill. He didn’t like death.

He loved life.

So, obviously every day was for him only more painful. His blue eyes scrutinized the darkness of the forest to see only the blackness, blackness also present in his heart. The wolf would like to no longer have to do this. Not to be so alone, in cold and pain.

He would like someone to not be afraid of him.

The rain was still falling that day when he saw her for the first time. It was bright for him, yet the rain was still falling. But the light piercing the clouds didn’t come from the sky, but from his heart. In front of him, in the distance and through the branches, she was standing. From the distance where the wolf stood he couldn’t really distinguish her features. But suddenly the cold inhabiting him was gone. His blue eyes widened, totally caught under the spell of the human. His paws moved forward towards them, but this time he didn’t notice the plants that would die. Neither the animals who fled, scared. He was only seeing her, standing upright in her backyard overlooking the forest. He felt only the warmth, rising in him, clinging to his heart. He felt alive. For the first time the wolf bringing death felt life invading him. It was like the first day of his life, a rebirth.

"No," thought the wolf. "Not a rebirth. A birth. "

It was raining even more outside the forest where the dense trees’ foliage couldn’t protect from the cold water. But the human remained there, outside and in the cold, accepting the water and the numbness of the autumn temperature. She accepted the rain that ran down her face like tears the wolf would have liked to gently wipe away. Her hair was dripping, soaked, like her clothes.

But she didn’t move.

She didn’t move either when the wolf, absorbed in the contemplation of the human, approached too close. His blue eyes shining in the darkness startled the girl who jumped a little.

"She’s afraid," thought the wolf, drawing back, sadness returning to cling on his heart like a heavy and painful anchor. "They're all afraid. Always."

" Don’t leave! "

Her voice, soft, suppliant, sounded sweet in his ears which moved in her direction. The wolf stopped retreating, intrigued but above all surprised to hear the words so desired, so much wanted, coming out of the girl's mouth strong enough to cover the sound of the water falling loudly around them.

"Don’t go ..." The human added, moving this time towards the wolf, who, caught off guard and in fear to kill her by letting her get too close, quickly ran away.

He could not. If the human touched him, she would die.

He was cursed. And he didn’t want her to die. Not her. Not anyone.

Salty tepid tears mingled with the cold, lifeless water of the rain in his ink fur.

The days of the wolf were no longer the same since he had seen her. His thoughts were now directed only towards the young girl, who, even in the icy rain, seemed to emanate a gentle and inviting warmth. He thought of nothing but her, her soft and tender face, her friendly and welcoming eyes, her hair soaked in the rain without her worrying about it. He couldn’t remove her expression from his mind when he saw her ask him to stay. He remembered the fear making his body shake, the adrenaline discharge telling him to move away from her. Not to hurt her. Not to kill her.

Too absorbed by his thoughts, the wolf hadn’t noticed immediately he had surrendered by automatism towards the backyard of the human. His paws had led him by themself as if he knew the way like he had always followed it. It’s only by the perceived warmth, the light, which, among the cold drops of the rain, shone with full fire that he understood. The human was sitting in the soaked grass in front of the forest, waiting. She waited for something and when the wolf's blue eyes glided over her, her eyes lit up as well.

"You've come back ..." The human sighed as she got up, a luminous smile stretching her pale lips in the cold weather. " I was waiting for you. "  The warmth immediately invaded the heart of the wolf, who felt for a second time the life inhabit it. He fell in love with the girl again. She was everything for him. She was his life.

And he refused to be her death.

As he began to retreat to not make any contact with her, to not curse her, he stopped suddenly.

The rain had stopped.

As quickly as it followed him everywhere, the cold water falling from the cloudless sky ceased to fall. The clouds slowly dispersed to shyly give way to the sun and a sky as blue as the eyes of the wolf. It was so sudden, so new to see the sun and the color of the sky the wolf stopped moving to raise his head and admire the beauty of the new phenomenon.

Believing during his entire existence he only brought death, cold and sadness, the wolf finally saw. He saw the beauty of the world. Life, the color of joy that could bring as much life to his heart.

"My name is Y/n," the human said to him, sure of herself and not afraid of him. She wiggled her hair slowly, her smile still on her face, surely even brighter than the sun and more colorful than the sky. Her smile succeeded in making the wolf feel emotions he didn’t think possible. A new spectacle left him panting; the birds chirped in the trees, not at all afraid of the wolf and its curse. Timid animals emerged from the shadows to gambol in the fresh green grass, surely happy of the long awaited good weather. Plants were no longer dying under his paws.

The wolf felt so good, alive. Happy. For the first time, animals were no longer afraid of him.

"I have never seen you here," she continued, kneeling in front of him, leaning her head to the side to detail the wolf. "You look very lonely. I have known loneliness, actually I am always alone. Life is sad when we pass it alone, don’t you agree? "

Sitting in front of Y/n to better look at her and listen, all his attention directed towards the girl, the wolf imitated the gesture of the human. The picture was comical, a big black wolf that can pass for scary who tilts his head to the side, his highest ear folding in a cute angle. The scene was so unusual, impossible to imagine, Y/n couldn’t hold back a little laugh that escaped her vigilance, a laugh the wolf didn’t miss. Her laughter was more melodious than the song of the birds. He could have listened to her for days without ever wearying.

"Yes," Y/n concluded, recovering her seriousness and her smile fell. The wolf didn’t want her smile to disappear, it was so beautiful, she was so beautiful when she smiled and joy reigned in her face. "You're alone... exactly like me. "

As a single answer the wolf dropped his head, scraping the soaked floor with his paw. He was deeply sad the human felt so. That she must live the same pain as him. He didn’t want her to suffer.

Not her.

He could suffer. Stay alone. Living in the cold and death. But he couldn’t accept she was suffering from loneliness.

The wolf then made a decision.

Never again would she be alone.

And he kept his promise.

Every day he came to see her. Every day the two met at the edge of the forest, her sitting down in the grass and him in front of her at a good distance to prevent any contact with the human. Throughout the conversations, Y/n had even given him a name. It must have been the best day of his life when she pointed a finger at him, making him jump and step back in the sudden fear that they could ended up touching. But the surprise was rather when she uttered simple words, words so simple but so much wanted, touching the wolf deep inside him.

"You need a name. Derek. I'll call you Derek."

Derek couldn’t speak. He would have liked to be endowed with the sense of the human language to tell everything to her. Tell her how much he loved her laughter, how the melody could become a comforting lullaby and how he never forgot the sound it had. Or her smile that could illuminate his dark days forever. How her voice and words and how only her luminous presence made him feel alive. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t speak. So he could only listen. The wolf listened to the human talking about everything and nothing, things of everyday life, her little problems and anxieties as well as her future dreams. He listened attentively, memorizing each of her dreams, placing them in a corner of his safe memory to never forget them.

Y/n wanted to be a doctor. Her goal was to save people’s life, to save them from death. Give the sick and wounded extra years to live, or at least enough to see all the things they would have liked to see and live. It was her ultimate goal, her most precious dream.

She was the opposite of him. While the wolf brought death and sadness, the human wanted to give life and happiness.

She had also told him she wanted to go horseback riding one day, she loved horses. She wanted to dye her hair, orange or purple, she didn’t know yet. Fly in a hot air balloon. See fireworks. Learn to swim. Go to the beach. Eat Nutella with a spoon, even if too much makes her sick. To have a cat. No, two cats. A house full of cats! Fall in love, get married, have children.

A lot of children, she had specified. To be equal to the number of cats.

Y/n had so many dreams and her face was amazed when she evoked them. Derek was happy to hear all the future plans of the human, to see her face light up while she imagined them coming true. He loved to watch her speak, to only drink in her words and feel her joy through each of her gestures.

But he couldn’t know the sadness that dwelt in each of her dreams. He couldn’t see her dreams weren’t future projects.

Derek couldn’t know they weren’t going to happen.

And one fine day she stopped coming to the usual place. The place where she used to sit in the grass was empty, cold. And just as the days spent in the absence of Y/n were dark and cold, the temperature became the same.

And it rained again. The clouds came back to hide the sun and the blue sky, swallowing the bright colors and replacing them with a dull and lifeless gray.

Every day the wolf came to the usual place. And every day no one came. The animals had begun to flee from him, the whole world was fleeing him or died at his contact.

Derek lived once again in sadness and loneliness, but worse. He had loved so much and her prolonged absence made him horribly sad. He had loved, listened, made everything to make her happy. Where was Y/n?

Where had the sun that illuminated his heart went?

Days changed into weeks. Derek walked to the usual place every morning in the meager hope of seeing her again. Rain and cold following him wherever he went leaving a trail of dead plant behind him. The path he took was void of plant.

All were dead.

It was soon winter and the cold was only even more present. The water turned into ice in the morning and the rain into snow a few icy days. It was a very cold day when something changed.

Derek was heading in the usual way towards Y/n when a warmth he could have recognized anywhere caught his attention, dwelling in his body, numb by the cold. The sensation awoke in him memories and the image of a girl standing in the rain.

The wolf began to run without thinking, coming quickly to the spot, the hope arising in him causing the rain to stop momentarily. He couldn’t believe it, the joy swelled in his body so much he didn’t notice right away that the heat hadn’t the same brilliance as before. That the smile which welcomed him when he arrived was no longer as full of joy as before.

He only knew something was wrong when he was close enough to see her eyes. Her gaze, which he loved so much, was dull and empty.

She was sick.

Y/n was sick.

Derek's world collapsed.

"Derek ..." Y/n mumbled softly, hardly crouching at his height, her limbs thin under her loose clothes. Her hair seemed so fragile, about to fall at any moment and her skin had to be as pale as the snow on some mornings, too cold to get up. "Derek. "

"No," thought the wolf, shaking his head, stepping back by automatism, tears rolling in his ink colored fur. " No. Not Y/n. No.” He kept repeating for himself. She couldn’t be sick. She couldn’t leave him. Not her. Not yet. No more loneliness. No more death. He wanted no more death. Never again. His heart split in two, he felt as if someone was pulling half of it from his chest.

"Derek, listen to me," Y/n mumbled as she coughed in her sleeve painfully, coughs that Derek felt deep inside him. He stared at her with his bright blue eyes, never removing his gaze from her. Once her cough was calmed and she apologized, Y/n sat down slowly on the frozen ground.

“I want you to know… It doesn't matter where we take this road. But someone's gotta go and I want you to know, you couldn't have loved me better… But I want you to move on...”

Derek scraped the frozen ground with his paw mechanically, trying to chase away the pain that clung to him, stabbing, poignant, present. But nothing could stop the suffering.

“ We were always meant to say goodbye. Even with our face held high, it never would have worked out right… We were never meant for do or die, Derek. I was sick when we met. I was lonely. I had dreams and hopes. You made me want to live. Before I met you, I was ready to die. But when they brought me to the hospital a few weeks ago, I fought. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to meet you one last time. You gave me life, Derek. And I want to thank you for that.”

No. It wasn’t true. The black wolf only brought death, he was cursed, condemned to kill and to remain alone. He could not give life.

“ Looking at you makes it harder, you know. But I know you'll find another who doesn't always make you want to cry like you’re crying right now.”

Y/n then approached, her hand held out to the wolf, who froze while also slowly stepping back. But the resolution was read in the almost lifeless look of the human, she wanted to do that. She wanted to touch him and if it was her last wish, even if the dull pain only felt heavier, the weight of the dead on his conscience, Derek let her do it.

And for the first time he felt the touch of another living being against him. Her warmth. Her touch. Y/n's hand stretched towards him, gently caressing the fur of the black wolf. He had closed his eyes under the blow in fear of seeing her die immediately. But when he felt the warmth still there, her thin fingers gently wiping away his still flowing tears, he opened and laid his cold eyes on the warm face of the human.

And he snuggled up against her. Y/n's arms closed around his massive body, sending warmth and life into him like never before and it was only even sadder. She was dying. And he had never felt so alive.

After a moment, Y/n backed away. The contact was broken and the darkness got back in his heart. However, she was still there. Derek couldn’t stop crying and sobbing, the howl of pain escaping his usual vigilance. But that day, under the cloudy and cold sky, he could not.

A weak smile then stretched the dry and pale lips of Y/n. She approached her face to the wolf who didn’t flinch, not knowing where her actions were going to lead them.

Then he felt warmth on his muzzle, followed by a significant sound.

"I love you, Derek.” It was the last words of Y/n who soon closed her eyes. Her smile remained hanging on her lips as her lifeless body slowly fell into Derek's arms, his sobs making his words inaudible. If someone had passed by and would have witnessed the scene, they would have seen a man holding the lifeless body of a girl, a smile still stretching her cracked lips, welcoming death as a friend.

“It started with the perfect kiss then. We could feel the poison set in… Perfect couldn't keep this love alive.”

A voice was behind him. Derek looked up to see the most beautiful deer standing there. The animal was white, but of a warm white, a luminous white that warmed his heart like never before. A warmth he recognized brought new tears in his now hazel eyes.

"Y/n ...?” Derek finally sobbed and the deer nodded, making Derek's tears drop even more.

“ Remember all the things we wanted… Remember the memories, they’re not haunted. You made me wanna live. I want you to live as well. But you knew, Derek. You knew.”

“ We were always meant to say goodbye.” Derek finished in her place.

And on these words, the magnificent deer disappeared into the dark forest, bringing with her the cold and bad weather, leaving Derek alone with Y/n in his arms and her life boiling in him.

Y/n wasn’t afraid of death. And Derek wanted to live.

He brought death, she spread life.

She loved death, he loved life.

He lived for her.

She died for him.

Y/n had given the best gift she had. She had given her life to Derek, turning the black cursed wolf into a mortal human. Y/n’s soul had become a magnificent deer, bringing with her the burden of Derek. Bringing death with her.

And in the time of a breath, a look, a touch, she was already gone.

"I love you ... I love you ..."

"Thank you."

By becoming human, Derek had been given another chance. A chance to live a normal life, each day being different while resembling each other.

Soon after, he had began to go to school. From the beginning it was his goal. It took him many years, during which he drank to life as if every day was the last.

He took riding lessons. He dyed his hair a few times, even though people thought it was weird. He learned to swim. Went to the beach. Flew in a hot air balloon and watched fireworks. On calm days without work or school, he ate Nutella with spoon while watching television.

He even adopted some cats. Only a few, he had promised himself. Obviously he had taken them all.

But Derek had never forgotten Y/n. Nor had he tried to rebuild his life with another person. He couldn’t forget the girl who had saved him, the one who had given him life and had been carried away by death.

"No," Derek thought. "She had taken death away with her to give me life. "

And it was to her that he thought of each day after his graduation. Every day he was saving a life, he thought of her.

"I hope you look at me," the man thought for himself, a serene smile on his face. "Look. Your dreams have come true. You gave me your life. And I swear to save everyone who wants to live. I will do everything to make it possible for them to taste the gift of life, even for only a moment. Because you taught me something.

Life is worth living for."

On these thoughts, Derek laid the stethoscope around his neck and opened the door of the hospital room where his patient was waiting.

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[aion-rsa]

Why Pokémon Has Endured For 25 Years

https://ift.tt/3aGzdnP

This article is presented by:

In 1996, Joseph Tobin was a professor of early education at the University of Hawaii when he decided to walk into a hobby store in Kaimuki for field research.

“They had some Pokémon stuff—the Japanese versions of the cartridges,” Tobin recalls. “People could buy them in this store before they were even available elsewhere. We interviewed the owner and decided that Pokémon would be a really interesting thing to study.”

Tobin had a pre-existing interest in Japanese culture from time spent in Japan as an exchange student and therefore continued his research in other hobby shops and toy stores throughout Honolulu. As the years progressed, he traded Pokémon cards with children who were adamant that he would not get ripped off in lopsided swaps. He followed as a colleague’s six-year-old son spent 90-plus hours with his Pokémon Blue cartridge for the Nintendo Game Boy, learning to read, understanding maps, and calculating sums in the process.

The years of Poké studies culminated in Tobin hosting an academic conference in 2000, where educators, anthropologists, and other cultural experts gathered in Honolulu to discuss this massive, yet certainly fleeting, Pokémon phenomenon. The findings and arguments of the conference were collected in the insightful and thoroughly-researched, yet tragically named, Pikachu’s Global Adventure: The Rise and Fall of Pokémon.

“We thought we better hurry and get this out before the craze is over,” Tobin says.

25 years later and the Pokémon craze is nowhere near over. 

Today, Pokémon is one of the most successful, if not the most successful entertainment entities in human history. Pokémon is the highest-grossing media franchise of all time, having taken in an estimated $88 billion in revenue. According to eBay, there were 160 million searches on the platform for Pokémon cards last year, and they outsold even baseball cards. In December of last year, a Base set 1st edition PSA-graded 10 “shadowless” Charizard card sold on eBay for a staggering $350,100. The Pokémon games are now in their eighth generation and have sold over 340 million units. The long-running anime is in its 24th year and features more than 1,100 episodes. 

In defense of Tobin and The Rise and Fall of Pokémon’s title, the franchise, created by Game Freak and Nintendo, did seem like it was on the ropes in the early 2000s. “Pokémania” had largely died out and financial markers like the Pokémon card market had cooled. But Pokémon didn’t need a lengthy Pokémania to become one of the most successful entertainment franchises ever. To find success, all Pokémon needed was a consistent track record of innovative creators behind the scenes and a dedicated fan base of children—and eventually adults—willing to catch them all. 

“This will probably be something you hear from me and the rest of the team at Pokémon a lot. But Pokémon really is for everyone,” says Daniel Benkwitt, Senior Manager, Communications & Public Relations for The Pokémon Company International. “As long time fans will tell you, Pokémon has always been around throughout many iterations. The fans have been dedicated to Pokémon for 25 years, no matter when they came in.”

Benkwitt has a unique perspective on the nature of Pokémon’s ebbs and flows. Now working on the franchise’s 25th-anniversary celebrations, Benkwitt joined the Pokémon Company during Pokémon’s 20th anniversary—the same year that the massively popular augmented reality mobile game Pokémon Go debuted.

“I was excited to work on an exciting franchise, but who knew what it was actually going to be once Pokémon Go had launched?” he says. “Truly, Pokémon Go on the 20th anniversary brought Pokémon back into the zeitgeist.”

In many ways, Pokémon Go served as a reminder of what the Poké die-hards already knew: this is Pikachu’s world and we’re just living in it. Whether it be through the series of beloved games, a highly successful card game, long-running anime, or sheer power of brand alone, Pokémon is one of the last quarter century’s big pop culture winners. 

The reasons why Pokémon survived its early fad status to blossom into a titan of entertainment are varied and innumerable, but it all starts with accessibility.

“There’s a variety of different ways and different touchpoints that fans can enter into Pokémon. My personal story is the anime,” Benkwitt says. “For a lot of folks, it was the video games, because that truly is the core of the franchise. Everything emanates out from there.”

Let the Poké Games Begin!

Pokémon Red and Green first premiered in Japan on Feb. 27, 1996. Its English counterparts, Red and Blue, would arrive in North America in 1998. Just about everything that’s appealing about the Pokémon franchise is apparent in those first two installments: exploration, training, trading, battling. The games capture creator Satoshi Tajiri’s experience of collecting insects as a boy in Japan, scaled up and fine-tuned for a larger, and eventually more Western audience. 

The games have evolved over the years, moving from a Matrix-green original Game Boy sprite display to the gorgeous, full-color three dimensions of Nintendo Switch. Along the way, new generations of fans have found their respective access points into the games and the franchise at large.

Pokémon content creator Ron Sroor is part of the next wave of Pokémon fandom, having been born after Red and Blue even debuted. He knows as well as anyone that the appeal of Pokémon has been constant, even if the heights of the franchise have waxed and waned. 

“To the people who were around at the beginning of Pokémania, it seemed like it was dying down, and it definitely was,” Sroor says. “But it never stopped being big. It was going from the biggest thing ever to just a normal, big thing.”

Like Benkwitt, Sroor came to Pokémon through the anime before coming to appreciate the larger tapestry of the franchise through the Pokémon Black and White games, which are set in a world approximating his native New York City. Now Sroor interacts with Pokémon fans via a variety of creative YouTube videos in which he discusses elements of the games like tier lists for powerful Pokémon, and shares his own artistic Pokémon renditions.

“I think the Pokémon are the draw of the franchise. They’re the perfect formula for creating creatures that aren’t too monstrous, but also not too childish or too cute,” he says. “Every single Pokémon is based on something, whether it be an animal or myth, and every location in the game or in the show or whatever is based on places in the real world.”

Cardboard Craze

Though the Pokémon series of games were the progenitor of the franchise, Pikachu and friends quickly proved too big to be contained by only one medium. The Pokémon Trading Card Game was first published by Wizards of the Coast in October 1996, just eight months after Red and Blue’s debut. These days, the Pokémon Trading Card Game (now under the auspices of The Pokémon Company) is considered one of the “Big Three” TCGs, alongside Magic: The Gathering and Yu-Gi-Oh!. 

Competitive Pokémon TCG player Andrew Mahone recalls experiencing the first wave of Pokemania when he was in fourth grade. 

“1999—it was everywhere. Kids were playing the cards at recess, at the pool, wherever we went. I got captivated by the initial craze as it was the cultural phenomenon happening at the time. And being 10 years old, you’re the same age as the hero in the Pokémon franchise. So it really hit home with me there.”

Like many other kids of his generation, Mahone set Pokémon aside throughout his high school years and picked up a diverse array of other interests like soccer, skateboarding, and competitive running. It was during college, however, that Mahone met back up with the franchise that never truly went away, playing Pokémon Diamond and Pearl on the bus to and from track meets.

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“I fell in love with the franchise all over again doing that, and I played the DS game for hundreds of hours throughout my college career. When I graduated college, that’s when I was like, ‘Okay. Well, now I want something else that’s competitive to do now that I’m done with sports.’ That’s where I got into competitive Pokémon.”

Mahone attended his first competitive TCG event in 2012 and won his first regional championship in 2015. By 2017, he was making YouTube videos about the competitive Pokémon TCG scene. That channel has now evolved into his multimedia enterprise Tricky Gym, supported by Full Grip Games.

As part of the Pokémon TCG diaspora, Mahone has had a front-row seat to the game’s latest renaissance, this time likely driven by young adults looking to connect with their past while stuck indoors due to COVID lockdowns.

“We see a lot of young adults now in their mid-20s and 30s revisiting Pokémon because they have such strong nostalgic feelings for it. It came out in this very impactful time in their early childhood.”

I Wanna Be the Very Best…

One of the reasons that so many adults have warm fuzzies for the franchise is the storytelling around it. Premiering in 1997, the anime story of Ash Ketchum and his quest to become a Pokémon master has been a constant companion of the franchise through 24 years and hundreds of episodes. It also had a tremendous impact on the woman who would one day voice the young hero of Pallet Town.

“It was hard for me even as a kid to see it as a fad, because of the show,” Sarah Natochenny says. “It had heart, relatable characters, and adorable, unique creatures. This wasn’t just a game or set of toys. Pokémon had a story.”

Natochenny is an artist with eclectic talents and interests. After winning a bronze medal at the Junior Olympics in rhythmic gymnastics in 1999, she studied at the Strasberg Theater Institute for four years while also doing improv at UCB, and taking voice and dance classes on the side. In 2006, she auditioned for the role of Ash Ketchum in the Pokémon anime’s English dub, taking over for the role’s progenitor, Veronica Taylor.

“Pokémon was the biggest job I booked. It was only my second voiceover job, after a medical industrial,” Natochenny says. “I was the perfect age when Pokémon first came to America, and I loved the show and remember begging my parents for the cards. I had one deck. I have no idea where it is or whether or not there was a million-dollar card in there.”

Since 2006, Natochenny has voiced Ash, his mom Delia, along with a host of other human and Pokémon characters (Buneary being a particular favorite because it’s very cute). As part of the Pokémon 25th anniversary, Natochenny is most looking forward to wrapping up work on Pokémon the Movie: Secrets of the Jungle, along with some of the other planned festivities. 

“I’m looking forward to celebrating with fans and continuing to bring joy to people who grew up with my portrayal of their favorite character. I’ll also probably dance to the music that comes out, so tune in to my social media to see if those dance classes paid off,” she says. 

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25 Years of Pokémon

As Natochenny suggests, The Pokémon Company indeed has big plans—musical and otherwise—for the franchise’s 25th anniversary.

The team has been working on the celebration for over a year and has partnered with UMG and Katy Perry for a year-long musical campaign called P25 Music. Other corporate partners include Build-A-Bear Workshop, General Mills, Levi’s, McDonald’s, Jazwares, Scholastic, Mattel, Funko, PowerA, and The Wand Company (which is manufacturing a lifelike Poké Ball). And there are still more announcements to come.

“All I can say is, stay tuned because the rest of the year is going to be quite exciting with more surprises. Pokémon likes to surprise its fans,” Benkwitt says.

One thing that wouldn’t surprise its fans is if Pokémon one day observed a 50th- anniversary celebration, or even a centennial. It certainly wouldn’t surprise Tobin, who is still an early education professor, now at the University of Georgia.

“I’m not surprised that [Pokémon] has lasted this long in the sense that I think it’s really good,” he says. “It was really cleverly designed and it has a really rich narrative. I’m happy to see that it’s made it.”

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