#tails can no longer unsee the similarities

[pocketscribbs]

Request: Tails watching Paw Patrol or playing pretend as the characters.

he can’t watch it with Sonic anymore, dude keeps (jokingly)comparing Ryder and Eggman

[adobe-outdesign]

Magikarp/gyarados review? 🐟🎏🐉

Magikarp is everyone's favorite useless fish, and it does a pretty damn good job at being a Useless Fish. I think the eyes really get this across well—this is a creature that absolutely only has a single brain cell bouncing around in there like a game of Pong, all right.

Visually, the design is pretty simple, but it does what it needs to. Like I said, the expression is spot-on, and the open mouth also adds something to it. The whiskers are nice, both carp-like but also reminiscent of eastern dragons, and the body has a distinctive bony shape that'll become even more prominent when it evolves into Gyarados.

The only thing that bugs me about it is the pink mouth; it looks disturbingly fleshy and adds another color that isn't needed. White or yellow would've worked much better. Also, I don't really think the lines under the bottom of the head were needed, but that's a very minor thing.

(Also, side note: this isn't needed in any capacity, but Magikarp was given some pretty neat patterns in the Magikarp Jump game. Some of them are completely different colors and look a bit too much like shinies, but the more koi-like ones are really cool and I wouldn't mind seeing them in an official game.)

The whole concept of a fundamentally weak and useless Pokemon evolving into something badass and powerful is a great concept, and Gyarados pulls it off very well. It's also a nod to the Chinese legends about how carp that managed to jump over waterfalls would become dragons, so that adds another layer to it. It's also probably based in part off of windsocks, hence the water/flying typing (keep in mind that in Gen 1, the dragon type was still considered to be rare and mythical).

Visually, I think Gyarados does a good job looking more powerful without being completely disassociated from it's pre-evo. Similar to the Dratini line, people seem to think the two stages have nothing in common, which isn't true at all. They both have:

"Lips" and wide open mouths

Whiskers

Three-pronged fin structures on the back

The fins near the head having an edge at the top and the tail having two edges

Segmenting of the body

A bony, rigid body structure

Gyarados changes color and gains a more serpentine body, but the visual elements and overall design remain shockingly similar so you can stop trying to say Gyarados and Dragonite were flipped just because Gyarados is long and blue, seriously if I see that "theory" one more time I am going to go apeshit on someone

Visually, you can definitely tell that this is a powerful Pokemon, and I love the shapes and detailing around the head. The repetition of the body segments helps to create a pattern, simplifying what would otherwise be a complex design.

The only nitpick I have is that it's strange that the whiskers are positioned under the head instead of by the mouth, which isn't a big deal but is hard to unsee once you see it. Also, the three prongs on the head would've worked better in cream or white. Otherwise, I have no complaints.

Gyarados also has a mega for no real reason, though at least with this one you can't argue it would've been better as a regular evo, as that would've defeated the point of the Entire Everything.

I don't think it adds much to the line, but the design itself isn't terrible. I do actually really like the massive back fins, which pop nicely and instantly gives a focus point to the design. Other than that, most of the design is just exaggerating things already on base Gyarados—longer whiskers, longer head ornament, long head fins, extra body fins, etc., which works to make it look more powerful.

However, I do have a few issues with it. Adding two colors to a previously two-color design feels like a bit much, and all three colors are too low contrast. I think the black was added to try to haphazardly justify the dark typing, but all the black areas could easily be cream/red without losing anything. Alternatively, making the red areas cream would've helped with the contrast; I'm not sure why they're there anyway, other than a tenuous connection to Magikarp. Here's a quick edit to show what I mean (original on left):

Also, it actually has two giant back fins. When I first saw it I thought it had one, and frankly I think that would look just as good but would've cut down on the clutter a bit. It doesn't look too bad from a side angle, but it's a bit much from the front:

I'm also not big on the two extra tail fins, as the bottom set interrupts the flow a bit (they're also more rounded than the main fins; some consistency would've been nice), and the spike under the chin feels random. Everything else, however, works well enough for what they were going for, and it's at least an interesting albeit pointless take on the original design.

Anyway, overall: the concept of a weak Pokemon suddenly getting super strong upon evolution is a good one, and this line handles it well. Magikarp is endearingly useless, and Gyarados has good contrast with it while still looking like they belong together. The mega isn't quite as good, but it's still a solid enough design as a whole minus some clutter and odd color choices.

[sethrine-writes]

Projections of the Forgotten, Ch. 1

Fandom:  Tiger & Bunny

Pairing:  Barnaby “Bunny” Brooks Jr. x Female Reader

Rating:  Mature

Chapter Warnings:  Ominous vibes

Fic Summary:  Racing against the clock, Barnaby must rely on the help of Kotetsu and the other Heroes in finding you, a woman who has been projecting herself into the partners' forced dreams.

Barnaby knew who you were...but he could not remember you, truly. Even so, something was terribly wrong, and he only had so much time until you became nothing more than a mere memory of a dream.

A/N:  A T&B reader-insert fic? In this day and age? It's more likely than you think. Can't thank my friend, @kyarymell, enough for introducing me to this anime. I can't believe I missed out on it, back in the day! Anyways, here's to hoping there's still some fans out there who will enjoy this indulgent little fic. Enjoy!

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Chapter 1 - An Ominous Walk in the Park

"Are you lost?"

Barnaby blinked his eyes open, unaware that he had even had them closed to begin with. He glanced up at the inky black sky overhead, not a trace of stars or the moon to be had, then began to look all around him. Confusion clouded his narrowed gaze as he took in his new surroundings of nicely trimmed trees and winding cobblestone paths, wood and iron benches illuminated softly by strategically placed lamp posts.

How had he ended up at a park, of all places? It wasn't a familiar place, at least not one he recognized in Sternbild. And it was so dark out...he was sure it had been midday only moments ago.

What had he been doing all afternoon, and why couldn’t he remember any of it?

"Hm?"

He turned around fully, eyes naturally falling on the only other individual that seemed to be within his proximity.

You seemed every bit engrossed in the dark void of sky hovering above the treetops, gazing intently at something that he could not see. It was a wonder he hadn’t seen you, at first, standing there beneath one of the lamp posts, the light acting as a sort of beacon in the almost unnatural darkness of the night.

Barnaby stepped closer.

"Excuse me-"

"Are you lost?"

He nearly startled at your voice, having stopped mid-step at the intense feeling of deja-vu that overcame him. That question...you had already asked that very question, just moments ago, yet he hadn't realized he had been spoken to. He wasn’t even sure he had realized you had spoken at all before that moment.

Barnaby still wasn't completely sure if you were truly talking to him, either, so focused you were on the sky.

"I believe I am, yes," he answered cautiously, taking a few more steps closer, but keeping a healthy distance between. "I'm almost embarrassed to admit I'm not entirely sure where 'here' is."

There was a pause in the conversation, allowing Barnaby to have yet another glance around the unfamiliar park, then a moment to better study you.

He was fairly certain he had never seen you before, your face and your voice not sparking any immediate familiarity in him. You seemed fairly normal, just from his first glances, but even so, Barnaby couldn't help but feel that something wasn't quite right. It was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, almost as if he were forgetting something.

You blinked, a lethargic movement that seemed rather odd, much too slow. Your eyes continued to linger overhead.

"This is an unnecessarily dangerous situation for someone like you to find themselves in. You walked into something you shouldn't have, I'm afraid."

Barnaby's breath hitched just slightly at your words, finding a challenge between the lines of what you were saying. It was almost comical how quickly the Hero in him was on alert, expecting the tables to turn on him at any moment.

The park remained unbothered, quiet, eerily so.

Barnaby retained tension in his shoulders, regardless.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand what you're implying."

Your gaze finally left the sky and turned towards him, though it was then that  Barnaby noticed you weren't really looking at him, or anywhere in particular, for that matter. Eyes glazed over and almost dull, it was as if you were barely aware he was even in front of you at all.

"Let me escort you out of here," you spoke once more, though Barnaby was suddenly under the impression that you barely had any sense to what you were saying, "it's best not to linger in such a precarious environment."

He watched as you turned carefully, dazed steps beginning to lead you out of the light of the lamp post.

Impulsively, Barnaby all but dashed forward, reaching out and catching your wrist before you could completely slip into the darkness. It wasn't like him to be so brash, but something about the whole situation still wasn't sitting right in his mind. Allowing you to step away felt more dangerous than the impartial threat your words provided.

It felt as if letting you walk out of the light meant you would disappear, too, and he couldn't linger too long on the thought of why that was an issue without making his head spin.

His action caused another immediate sense of deja-vu, a small laps in memory hitting him so suddenly that it made his chest ache unpleasantly. He had done something like this before, perhaps not under the same pretenses, but he had definitely caught your wrist...and he was sure it was your wrist, the way the smooth, braided herringbone metal of your bracelet felt cool against his fingertips, creating a unique sensation nothing else had ever provided.

Barnaby knew who you were...but he could not remember you, truly.

The ache in his head and his chest was becoming insistent the longer he attempted to piece together just what exactly was happening.

You looked over your shoulder just as slowly as you had turned away from him, eyes unseeing for several long seconds. Then, as if the trance you were under suddenly lifted, you began to blink away the dullness in your stare, a light of warmth and confusion and recognition brightening your gaze.

A gasp parted your lips, and Barnaby tensed at the sound.

"Can...can you really-?"

"Hey, Bunny, come on...Barnaby, wake up!"

Startled, Barnaby bolted up from his prone position, immediately regretting the movement as pain bloomed across his forehead. He reached up instinctively and flinched at the sharper ache upon touching just above his eye.

"He's awake!"

"Goodness, Handsome, you had us nearly worried to death!"

"Here, for your head, de gozaru."

Barnaby blinked a few times, still disoriented from having sat up so suddenly, and took the ice pack nearly shoved into his face with a dazed thanks before looking around him.

He was on the floor of the training facility, though looking at his clothes, he hadn't been there to work out as he first thought. He had...he had been looking for Kotetsu, if his memory served him right. There was a matter about some upcoming interview he needed to discuss with the older Hero, and he'd been directed to the training facility.

The other Heroes -his friends- were knelt alongside him in a loose semi-circle at the moment, their faces showing expressions of both relief and concern for his well-being. Before, they had all been doing their own exercises, or conversing amongst one another, some having taken just a moment to greet him as he passed by.

Just slightly further to his right, he could see Kotetsu in a similar situation as himself, on the floor and holding an ice pack to his head. He, at least, looked much more put together in his own impractical way, cross-legged and grinning almost nervously as Antonio and Karina both hovered over him, glowering, yet worried, much like the others.

He'd been meandering on the treadmill, Barnaby recalled, stopping almost immediately at having seen his approach and rushing over just as quickly as if his partner had been waiting for an opportunity for distraction.

Everything after that was hazy at best.

As if sensing his thoughts, Kotetsu turned and caught his eye, his partner's toothy smile brightening considerably and becoming more genuine.

"Hey, Bunny! Thought you'd never wake up, there for a minute."

Barnaby blinked slowly, perhaps almost comically so, at the nickname before his brows furrowed in confusion.

"What happened? Were we attacked?"

Kotetsu's grin dropped rather suddenly, a mirror image of Barnaby's own confusion showing on the older Hero's face. He watched as his partner lowered the ice pack, reaching up once more to scratch at the back of his head in deep thought.

"Eh...I don't know. You were talking about some interview thing, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up on the floor! Think I hit my head on something on the way down."

"You idiot," Karina piped in, arms crossed and lips pursed, "you knocked out Barnaby! Probably overworked yourself and just headbutted him right to the ground when you passed out."

That would definitely explain the ache in his head, Barnaby surmised, but even with Kotetsu's penchant for accidents and acting as if things were alright when they clearly weren't, they had been standing steadily in front of each other, and Kotetsu hadn't shown any signs of overexertion, only boredom.

"Actually," Keith spoke up, catching everyone's attention and calming a near-shouting match in the making, "I saw what happened. You were both talking, and suddenly just started swaying in place before collapsing. It was the strangest thing, and stranger, still!"

"It really was sudden," Pao-Lin agreed. “You had us all pretty worried, especially since we couldn’t wake you as quickly as Tiger.”

Barnaby reeled at the information, perplexed.

"Well, glad we had you guys to save our tails," Kotetsu said with a grin, seemingly trying to diffuse the fuss surrounding them both, as he often did. "I was having the weirdest dream, too, about a woman in some really dark park."

"Wow, what a way to be creepy, even in your own dreams," Antonio drawled, Kotetsu immediately bristling at the playful accusation.

"It wasn't like that!" Kotetsu shouted, frowning animatedly while crossing his arms in defense. "She was acting weird, kept saying ominous things and asking, ah…"

"Are you lost?"

The question slipped out of Barnaby's mouth before he could stop it, prompting a surprised and somewhat startled expression from Kotetsu. Barnaby was sure he looked roughly the same, a little wide-eyed and ruffled at whatever was happening.

“Yeah! How, uh...how did you know that?”

"Believe it or not, I had the same exact dream."

All eyes were suddenly on Barnaby, shocked gasps and murmurs ringing out amongst the Heroes as he continued on a heavier note.

"I...I think I know who she is, but I can't seem to remember."

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Casting Its Shroud Over All We Have Known

Summary: It's daylight and Edge has no interest in dealing with the secrets of the night. He's got plenty enough on his mind.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Brotherly Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy, More Angst

Warnings:  Implied underage pregnancy. Implied miscarriages. Past Trauma.

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Chapter List

What Will Be, Will Be

Something To Say, But Nothing Comes

Can’t Go On, Thinking Nothing’s Wrong

Seldom All They Seem

Voices Are Heard But Nothing Is Seen

Winter Makes You Laugh a Little Slower

That Place Where You Can’t Remember and You Can’t Forget

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Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

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It was getting harder for Edge to get up in the mornings. Perhaps it was something to do with the differences in the universes that the mattresses were more comfortable. Or perhaps it was that the Swap brothers had a better furnace in their house and better blankets on their beds, keeping the space beneath the covers so toasty warm that it was difficult to leave it behind and head out into the cold Snowdin air in two difference Universes.

Or perhaps it was the fact that Rus was beneath those blankets with him and Edge was finding it more difficult by the day to leave Rus behind.

With great reluctance, Edge forced himself to climb out of the embrace of covers and Rus’s arms, hissing at the chill against his bare bones as he skinned into his trousers. Still in the bed, Rus made a dissatisfied little sound as he rolled into the warm spot Edge left behind without even waking up. And no wonder, he’d been up far too late last night on his talk with Red, he needed his rest.

Edge refused to think too deeply about that particular conversation. Last night’s secrets were best left in the darkness they crept out in. That was a door his brother closed a very long time ago and Edge had no interest in forcing it open. Red was his brother, he would always be his brother, and soon, he would be an uncle. Edge could only hope that he was willing to step into that role when the time came.

By the time he was finished dressing, Rus managed to somehow swathe himself into a ball of blankets and sheets, the top of his skull barely visible above the tangle. Hopefully, he’d sleep for some time yet. The baby was growing in leaps and bounds, Blue had already let out Rus’s normal pants twice and now Rus stuck with a pair of pajama pants and a very oversized sweatshirt that still didn’t manage to hide his rounded belly. Carrying around that unaccustomed weight was visibly exhausting for him, along with the constant drain on his magic that no amount of rest or food seemed to fully replenish. Despite Blue and their Undyne’s assurances that Rus was healthy enough, seeing him so worn was disheartening, especially since there was little Edge could do to help.

Soon, Edge told himself, soon the baby would be here, and Rus would never need to endure this again.

As unlikely as it was that anything would wake Rus, Edge shut the door carefully and made his way downstairs. He stepped out into the bracing cold and started to walk around the house to the basement stairs, his mind on his patrol, his scheduled training with Undyne tomorrow, and not at all on the happenings of the night before. He did not want to think about crouching in the dark, listening as Red slurred out the answers to the rumors Edge heard whispered around New Home whenever he was forced to meet with Asgore, he didn’t, and—

Years of living on the streets in Underfell ingrained in him a sense of constant awareness and Edge turned instinctively towards the figure coming up behind him at the first crunch of a boot through the crust of snow.

“Hey!” He only caught a glimpse of hulking yellow shouting at him before it moved in a blur, hands lashing out as they hurled axes formed from magic at him. Edge knew a killing attack when one was coming and this one was not. He dodged the axes easily and they struck the house without so much as denting the siding, dissolving in a burst of lightning. Edge dove for cover behind a tall pine tree and crouched down in wait, his own burning magic pulled forth and ready to sally an attack of his own as he eyed his opponent warily.

Alphys.

But not any Alphys he’d ever known. Edge hadn’t met this world’s version, he’d only seen her picture in passing, but there was no mistaking her. The facial resemblance to his own was uncanny and that was where the similarities ended.

No thick-lensed glasses for this version of Alphys. She was taller, close to Edge’s height, but much broader, a massive, hulking size. The arms of the jacket she wore against the cold strained, bulging muscles concealed beneath the cloth and one of her eyes was scarred and unseeing, milky white in contrast the blue blaze of the other. The claws on her hands were longer, sharper, and so were her teeth, every inch the ferocious Monster of Human legends.

She drew closer and Edge watched calculatingly, noting that her size certainly did not inhibit her movements; she walked with the grace of a predator and had the intelligence to stay out of arm’s reach. This was a formidable foe and from the way she eyed him up and down, she did not return that sentiment, saying bluntly. “You must be the baby daddy. You look like someone Papyrus would hook up with.”

Well, then. Edge stood up and stepped out from behind the tree to glare at her, since the rule of the day seemed to be rudeness given and rudeness returned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She ignored the question, stamping in closer to loom in front of him. “I got something to say, so listen up, deadbeat. Papyrus can be a shitty brother and he’s a worse sentry. But if you hurt him, I’ll twist you around so hard you’ll be able to see your tailbone by looking up, you get me?”

He supposed she expected him to be irritated, angry, perhaps even to attack her. The thrumming static of magic was heavy in the air, she was braced and ready to absorb anything he sent her way. But Edge was already letting his formed magic drain away, he wasn’t angry in the slightest. On the contrary, it was comforting to know there was at least one person in Underswap who dealt properly in threats.

He lowered his head in a slight bow, allowing a small concession. “That’s good to know,” Edge said honestly. “Thank you for looking out for him.”

That must not have been the reaction Alphys was expecting. She blinked and every emotion she felt was on display as it ran across her face, confusion, irritation, a bare hint of cautious respect. It was so like his Undyne that Edge fought against a smile; her inability to keep her emotions properly under wraps was at least one of the reasons Undyne’s helmet had a face shield. Edge’s ability to school his features to bland unreadability was impeccable and he did, meeting Alphys’s scowling glare with calm sincerity.

“Guess you must not be too bad,” Alphys conceded grudgingly. She gave him a hard poke in the sternum with a finger that protruded from a fist nearly the size of a canned ham, “I’m watching you, deadbeat.”

“I’m sure you—"

Alphys didn’t wait for him to finish. She spun on her heel and tromped away, tail dragging in the snow as she headed in the direction of Underswap’s Waterfall.

The childish temptation to send an attack between her shoulders to knock her face-first into the snow was nigh on overwhelming. Edge resisted it; to begin with, Rus would likely not appreciate him going to war with the captain of the Underswap guard over a simple shovel speech. He also didn’t have the time to deal with the inevitable aftermath right now and regretfully, he turned towards the back of the house and headed to the basement stairs. Perhaps he could ask Blue to bring him along on one of his training sessions, a chance to spar with an unknown Monster was tantalizing, he might even learn a new move or two to use against his Undyne—

He spun around, magic surging to the fore again as words came out of nowhere around him.

“good thing you didn’t kill her, woulda pissed the blueberry off something awful.”

The speech was echoing, directionless, and Edge turned slowly, searching, until he caught sight of crimson eye lights peered slyly around the side of the house, Red’s serrated teeth curved in an irritating smile.

Edge shook away the attack and lifted his chin, stalking past his brother to the door. “You’ve hardly spoken to me for weeks and you think now is the time to interject your opinions?”

Red only shrugged and fell into step behind him through the door, their boots plodding heavily on the stairs. “what’s it matter? ain’t like you listen either way. you headed back home?”

“I am headed back to Underfell, yes.”

“uh huh.” Red shoved his hands into his pockets, watching as Edge turned on the machine. It hummed obediently to life and he keyed in the coordinates for their universe. “so this’s what you’re planning’ on doing, then? keep hopping back and forth, hoping one day you don’t zig instead of zag and get your ass dusted?”

“I don’t have an expansive selection of choices.” The moment the whine of the machine hit its highest pitch, Edge stabbed the button to open the portal. Shimmering, silent blackness formed in the gateway and Edge stepped through it and into his own universe. Perhaps it was the lingering chill of the void but somehow their basement always seemed colder than the Swap brothers’.

Red was still following him, stomping his feet as if trying to knock off any lingering void as he trailed behind Edge up the stairs. His voice rose over their echoing steps. “maybe not, but you got at least two, all nice and simple; stay here in the dust or stay there with rus and the kid.”

Edge stopped at the top of the stairs, his gloved hand resting on the doorknob. On the other side of the door was Underfell, with its promise of death and dust. And other children, other Monsters who were too weak to defend themselves against the LV hunters. People who needed the guard to protect them and the guard needed a Captain. “We can’t abandon the people of Snowdin.”

“you can’t abandon them,” Red grumbled out. Behind him, Edge could hear the rustle of clothing, the creak of the stairs as Red shifted his weight. He sighed heavily. “but i can’t abandon you. whatever you decide, boss, i’m with you.”

Edge closed his sockets and let his head drop, his forehead resting on the cold steel of the door. Not that he ever thought Red would abandon him, he hadn’t, but the last few weeks had been…unsettling. His brother had never been so cold to him before, his anger so unyielding towards Edge even as he kept watch over Rus and their child. His brother.

kid was a pain in the ass, but he was mine

“Thank you, brother,” Edge said, softly, and he meant every single word.

Then he firmly turned the doorknob and stepped out into his world. Only to be immediately grabbed and slammed back into the side of his house, and the only thing that spared Undyne’s good eye from a bone spearing through it was Edge aborting it so quickly that he felt the burn of backlash in his soul. He fought off the pain, hissing out, “What the fuck are you doing!”

“Me?” she snarled back. She was breathing too hard, agitated and angry, her teeth clenched around a sneer. Her clawed hand was icy around Edge’s cervical vertebra, she hadn’t even bothered to put on a jacket or gloves against the cold. “What the fuck did your brother do to Alphys?”

Ah. That explained the anger. Edge didn’t struggle in her grip, relaxing against the side of the house as he asked calmly. “Is she hurt?”

In her good eye, a tinge of red light suffused her pupil, her voice a near subsonic growl. “Guess that depends on your definition of hurt.”

“Then I suppose she should have considered Sans before she offered me her ‘congratulations’ on my child and asked after my significant other.” Acid fairly dripped from the words, as poisonous as Alphys’s offering of tea.

It took a moment for that to pierce Undyne’s temper but when it did, the manic redness in her gaze faded. Her grip loosened, then she let go entirely, her head dropping down between her shoulders as she hunched down, muttering out a string of curses, each more vile than the last.

Edge straightened his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from her grip even as he discreetly dissolved the thin stiletto of a bone that had been concealed in his palm. One of her nails must have torn through the fabric and he scowled, poking a finger through the hole irritably, “I take it she didn’t mention that.”

“Nah, she didn’t.” Undyne offered him a thin, toothy smile. “But she wasn’t talking much, anyway. Don’t think you need to worry about her pestering your skitten.”

For now, Edge did not say. “You might consider going back to her, it could be she’d appreciate your specific brand of comfort.”

A blotchy, ruddy blush infused her cheeks and she barked out a laugh, “I can get laid on my own, I sure as fuck don’t need any favors from your brother or advice from you, nerd.” A certain gleam rose in her eye, the very opposite of her earlier anger, “’course, it’d be stupid not to take advantage of a mood, wouldn’t it.”

“Do enjoy and do not tell me anything about it,” Edge said, dryly.

She laughed again, raucously loud, but it faded into an unexpectedly sober look. She glanced around, belatedly lowering her voice as she murmured, “Papyrus? For what it’s worth, I didn’t tell her about the kid.”

“I know.” He hadn’t, but it was good to hear her say it.

“See you tomorrow, nerd.” She turned on her heel and walked away before he could say another word and it was a moment of mirrored déjà vu, watching as she tromped off in the direction of the Riverperson; Undyne giving Edge her back was a deliberate show of her trust, as opposed to Swap Alphys’s insult.

“you believe her?”

This time his brother’s voice coming from nowhere was not a surprise. “I do, which means you may need to check over the audio distorters.” He finally turned to look up at his brother, who was lounging on the snowy rooftop, his sneakers braced against the gutters and a slender sharpened bone dangling idly between his fingers. Trust him to always be able to find the high ground. He glared at Red sourly. “Care to explain what you did to Alphys?”

Red only shrugged, tossing the bone to dissolve in the air and sending a miniature avalanche of snow to the ground. “heard about your tea party with her. been a while since i saw alphy, thought it might be time we had a chat, reminisce about old times and all.”

“And where did you hear about it?”

His grin widened mockingly, “always tell you, little brother, around here, the walls ain’t the only thing with ears.”

“Nor are they the only things without them, unless you’ve grown a pair. Can you at least assure me that it was worth antagonizing our allies?”

“doubt it. but she ain’t gonna hurt your kid.”

“Did she tell you that?” Edge asked. Red’s confidence was about as trustworthy as his rare promises, honest only to a point. “And do you believe her?”

Red’s grin was a sharpened knife, his eye lights glittering with blood-red sparks. “i do now. better get goin’ on patrol, little brother, those fancy traps of yours won’t check themselves.”

“You—” Red was gone before Edge could remind him that he needed to get to his own damned sentry station.

He blew out an impatient breath and stalked up the barely cleared path from their basement to the walkways of Snowdin proper. None of the citizens greeted him, instead scurrying out of his path and that was as it should be. His duty to the people here was to protect him from the XP Hunters and the LV-maddened Monsters that haunted the depths of the woods. He was not here for friendship or any companions past those he commanded. He was the Great and Terrible Papyrus and they would do well to remember it.

He did not spare a thought towards Rus, hopefully still sleeping in the cozy warmth of the bed they’d been sharing, their child still cradled safely in his belly.

His patrol went as perfect as was possible, considering the events of the morning. All the traps were clear, the Dogs were at their stations. Red’s post was empty but there were fresh footprints in the snow so he’d at least gone there earlier and then vacated before Edge could gripe at him for sleeping on the job. There were only a couple traps left on the very outskirts and he was headed to them when his phone began to ring, a distinct ringtone meant for emergencies only.

Edge took the moment to check his surroundings, scanning the woods. As anxious as he was to know why Rus was calling, he couldn’t afford to allow himself to get sloppy, especially not when he was alone. Only then did he press the answer call button, lifting the phone to his auditory canal, “Rus? Are you all right?”

The voice on the line was staticky this far away from Snowdin proper, “do you have any pillows?”

Edge nearly asked Rus to repeat it, half convinced that he couldn’t have possibly heard that right. “Pillows?” he echoed doubtfully, fully expecting to be corrected.

“yes!” Rus snapped back testily and that in itself was strange. Even at his most aggravated, Rus kept a firm hold on his temper, offering insults with lazily brutal precision instead of shouts. Anger was effort and he’d always kept his expenditures low. Until now. “pillows! do you have them or not!”

“I…yes?”

“good.” The relief fairly dripped from Rus’s voice. “i need them.”

“You need…pillows?” Edge repeated.

“did i stutter?” Through the static on the line, he heard Rus suddenly heave in a clotted breath, so wretched and teary that Edge’s soul clenched in sympathy. “i need pillows!”

“Shh, calm down,” Edge soothed. All right, so it wasn’t a traditional emergency, but Rus’s distress was real enough. He gave his surrounds another glance and turned back to town, his long strides eating up the distance. “Pillows, I hear you, I understand, you need pillows. Yes, we have some, several.”

“can you bring them with you tonight?” Again, that unhappy, hitched breath. “please. i need them.”

“Of course,” Edge said, trying for reassuring even through his confusion. “They’re yours, any we have.”

Rus let out a shuddery breath, whispering gratefully, “thank you.”

This was passing strange on an already strange day. “Rus? Are you all right?”

“yeah, i’m fine,” Now that he had secured a promise of pillows, he sounded distracted. “i gotta go. stay safe, okay?”

“I wi—” The line went dead before he could finish. Under his breath he muttered again. “Pillows?”

There was really only one way he was going to get an explanation. Edge headed back towards Snowdin, making mental plans. He could send the Dogi to check the last traps; if he phrased it as a show of trust rather than asking a favor, they would do it eagerly, always prepared to demonstrate their loyalty.

The pillows themselves might prove to be another problem. Despite his assurances, he only had a single pillow on his own bed and he wasn’t about to subject Rus to any of Red’s without a chance to sterilize them. They did have a couple of throw pillows, but that meager offering didn’t seem like enough for Rus’s level of upset and Edge could only picture his expression if he brought a mere three pillows as a contribution. No, he’d need to secure extras from somewhere else and there was only one place Edge could reasonably consider.

He could only hope to survive unscathed.

~~*~~

“heya, edgelord,” Sans yawned out. He looked up at Edge from where he was leaning against the doorjamb with as much interest as he could muster. From the vague sleepiness lingering over him like a miasma, it wasn’t much.

“Hello,” Edge said curtly. “I’m sorry, I don’t have time for niceties. Do you have any extra pillows I can borrow?”

Truthfully, he had no idea how much time there was, though the chances of Rus dying for a lack of pillows did seem unlikely. What he did know was that speaking with Sans was always simultaneously better and worse than talking to his brother, each tipping to the furthest end of their scale. There might be very little that could work Sans up enough to put the effort into making someone bleed, but his stare was like Red’s, direct and unflinching, always seeing far too much.

There was nothing in him that Edge wouldn’t allow Red to see, no secrets to keep hidden from him. Sans might resemble his brother, but he wasn’t and Edge was always deeply uncomfortable beneath the endless depths of his gaze.

That gaze was settled on him firmly now, sleepiness vanishing as Sans’s brow bones climbed up his forehead. Wonderful, now he was intrigued. “pillows?” he echoed.

Suddenly, Rus’s earlier frustrations made much more sense. “Yes, pillows! Soft square things that people lay their heads on. Pillows!”

“yeah, yeah, i get you, don’t get your panties twisted, it’ll ruin the leather.” Sans left the door open and wandered back into the house, leaving it for Edge to close behind him. He was wearing one slipper and trying to slide his foot into the other, socks sagging down his ankles. “lookin’ to cosplay as the stay-puff marshmallow man?”

“They aren’t for me, they’re for Rus.”

That got him a shrewd glance, Sans’s teeth parted in a silent ‘ah’. “gotcha. welp, anything for the upcoming mama.”

“I don’t know why you and Red insist on calling him that,” Edge said irritably, “he doesn’t like it.”

Sans frowned slightly, as much as he could around the constraints of his skull. “no? sorry ‘bout that, he never said. i’ll stop, but i’d guess for your bro that’s the main reason he does it.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“how’s things goin’ with rus, anyway, haven’t seen him lately.”

Hardly a surprise. Rus wasn’t supposed to use the machine any more than he should be teleporting, and Sans never seemed particularly fond of it himself. He’d always been perfectly content to allow visitors to come to him and whether that was simple laziness or something else entirely, Edge did not know.

“well?” Sans prompted. “you two doing all right?” His eye lights were pale white, nothing at all like Red’s crimson and yet, somehow, they sent a tremor down Edge’s spine.

Enough of this. Perhaps Rus’s need for pillows wasn’t a fatal issue, but that didn’t mean Edge wanted to hold off getting them to him. “If you’re warming up for a lecture of some sort, I’ve already spoken to a version of Alphys, my Undyne, and my own brother today. I’m full up, so I’d appreciate it if you could save it for a day when my self-esteem is particularly high and might need taken down a peg or two.”

Sans only looked at him in mild surprise. “no lectures. not really seeing a need for it, seems to me you’re doing okay by rus. ‘course, i’m not privy to all the details, but i don’t really need ‘em. none of my business, unless you’re planning on knocking up my bro, too.” The way his eye lights flickered out was nothing close to mild, and the darkness in his sockets only resembled blackness. “don’t recommend that, by the way.”

As if the same trick his brother often pulled was anything close to a threat. “I’ll keep it in mind if I get any sudden urges to impregnate anyone else,” Edge said dryly.

“’preciate it. pillows,” Sans said decisively. Between one step and the next he disappeared and then returned only moments later, announcing. “help yourself.”

The mass of fluffiness was worth a brief stare, if only for the shock that the Tale brothers seemed to have an unexpected collection of pillows stowed away somewhere in their home. Edge took Sans at his word, piling in as many into his inventory as would fit. Sans’s easy expression never changed, even as Edge tried to force in yet another. “Won’t your brother mind?”

“paps?” Sans only gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “nah, not if i tell him they’re for rus. he’s pretty excited to meet the kiddo.”

“So am I,” Edge murmured. “Thank you.”

“sure. do us a favor and give ‘em a wash before you bring ‘em back? it’s gonna get a little messy when the baby finally decides to make an appearance, yeah?”

There was something peculiar in Sans’s voice, something that didn’t match his normal lazy ease. It gave Edge a pause and he hesitated, giving Sans a scrutinizing look. Without his hoodie, Sans looked smaller and that too was reminiscent of Red. Even Edge usually only saw his brother without a hoodie when he was too unconscious to prevent it. Sans met that gaze evenly, his smile never faltering. But then, it really couldn’t, could it.

“I’ll wash them myself,” Edge told him slowly.

Sans snorted and shook his head. “you know what, don’t make it a priority, you’re gonna be busier than one-armed shit-shoveler pretty damn soon. guess you better head out, if rus’s asking for pillows, he’s getting close.”

“What do you--?”

It was fascinating really, to be steadily herded towards the door by someone who never bothered to take his hands out of his pockets. Edge was standing on the porch with a pillow in his arms before he even noticed he was through the front door and Sans was on the other side of the threshold, offering him an easy little wave. “see you around, edgelord.”

“Thank you agai—” The door closed with a firm click. Edge sighed and said to no one at all, “It would be nice if someone let me finish a single sentence today.”

But as strange as Sans’s pronouncement was, Edge took him at his word. Rus needed pillows for something and if that something was the birth of their child, then time might be at a more of constraint than he suspected.

Edge headed back to the Tale brothers’ basement at a jog, pillow in hand and Rus was the only thing on his mind.

~~*~~

tbc

[afsaneh-jaan]

What if the MC got hurt during and assassination attempt? Like if they were asleep with Nadia and they heard an assassin come in and they stopped the attempt before Nadia could react?

[imma combine these two, because they are quite similar]

🗡 Nadia Assassination Attempt 🗡

(with my apprentice Afsaneh, because I’ve imagined her in this exact situation dozens of times before. yes, I’m that kind of person.)

shoutout to @countessatrinava for giving me inspiration and also being responsible for making this way longer than i had originally planned. :*

~~~

Afsaneh wakes to the whispering of curtains in the wind. She frowns, pulling the cover tighter around herself, shivering as a chill breeze ghosts over her skin. Why would they have left the window open? She rolls around to face the balcony doors, they sky still dark beyond the open wings. She grumbles something low and incoherent in her throat, about to get up and close them, but here eyes are already falling shut again, sleep weighing heavy on her.

She drifts off, the gentle rustling of the curtains guiding her on into sleep… When suddenly, her eyes snap open. What was that…? She stays perfectly still, ears straining. There. Almost too quiet to make it out against the background of nighttime sounds. A footstep.

The hairs raise on the back of Afsaneh’s neck, her spine tingles. Is she imagining things? …No. There it is again.

Not daring to move, Afsaneh strains her eyes and scans the shadows. There is someone else in the room, someone besides her and Nadia, she is certain of it. She can feel their presence.

Something flickers at the edge of her sight and she swears she sees the shadows move.

Her chest tightens as a sense of foreboding creeps over her. This isn’t right. Why is the window open? Did… did someone climb in through the window?

Bit by bit, Afsaneh wrangles her sluggish thoughts out of the numbing grasp of sleep.

Who would climb in through the window at this time of night? What–?

She stiffens as her attention is caught by a soft shuffle. It sounds from further into the room now. Barely daring to breathe, she inches her head around, staring intently into the darkness.

Beside her, Nadia is still sleeping peacefully, breath slow and steady. Beyond her, Afsaneh can just hear the soft scratch of cloth on cloth over the hammering of her own pulse. There was someone there, no doubt about it.

Suddenly, she hears a soft scraping sound… and moments later the shadows seem to manifest as a looming shape nears the bed, nears Nadia’s sleeping form. The glint of metal catches a beam of moonlight and Afsaneh’s blood runs cold.

No.

“No–!”

Afsaneh’s cry startles the other person and she used that opportunity to fling a blast of magic them. They stumble back and Afsaneh follows moments later, launching herself over Nadia and tackling the attacker to the ground.

They give a low grunt and struggle against her with surprising strength. Afsaneh grits her teeth, shaking as adrenaline pumps through her body. She tries for a punch, but she misses in the dark. All too soon she finds herself pressed against the floor by the weight of the attacker.

“Oof.”

“Afsaneh…?”

Nadia’s sleepy voice snaps her to attention. And the attacker too, apparently. She feels their weight lift off of her, catches another glint of metal, of the dagger.

No!

Snarling, she scrambles to her feet and throws her full weight against the attacker, pushing them against a wall. She claws at their face, nails digging into soft flesh and the attacker yelps in pain. Furious, she funnels magic into her palms, feels them grow unbearably hot against the attackers skin. No one dare hurt Nadia!

They yell and shove her away from them with a punch to the gut before turning tail and running towards the balcony. Afsaneh stumbles to her knees, but launches another blast of magic after them. She misses, the shot flying just past the attacker’s head as they vault over the balcony railing and vanish into the night.

Panting, Afsaneh drops on all fours. Her pulse hammers in her head and she doesn’t hear Nadia approaching until she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Afsaneh! What happened? Are you all right?!”

The lights are one now, Nadia must have lit a lamp. Her worried face comes into view, her hands holding Afsaneh’s face.

“I’m okay… I’m okay…” Afsaneh says between heavy breaths. “But you should call the guards. That was an assassin if I ever saw one.”

Afsaneh leans back, ready to stand up. But instead, she flinches and sucks a sharp gasp through her teeth as pain suddenly flares out from her midsection.

“Afsaneh!”

Nadia’s arms catch her as she slumps sideways. Afsaneh grasps at her side, but that only makes it hurt more. When she pulls her hand back it’s slick and red with blood and suddenly the room seems to spin around her.

“Oh.”

The pain is blazing. White hot. Afsaneh gasps and she feels her breath quicken as panic settles into her. She’s been stabbed.

She looks up to meet Nadia’s gaze and sees the same mix of horror and fear she feels, reflected back at her. Tears prick in her eyes.

“Nadi…”

“Shh, shh, it’s all right.”

Nadia’s voice is steady, but only just. Her face is tight with worry. She eases Afsaneh down onto the floor and rushes towards the door, calling out for a doctor into the hallway. Then she hurries back to Afsaneh’s side, grabbing some piece of cloth on her way, a robe, which she presses to the wound. Quickly, the thin fabric soaks with blood, staining Nadia’s hands.

“Stay still, you’ll be all right.”

She runs her free hand through Afsaneh’s hair, fingers trembling.

“You’ll be all right.”

She repeats it under her breath, like a mantra, an effort to stay as calm as she can manage. One hand keeps caressing Afsaneh’s hair, her cheek, her forehead. Shaking fingers stroking sweaty skin.

Afsaneh looks up at her, breathing against the pain. It’s unlike anything she has felt before. She tries to focus on Nadia’s touch instead, but it doesn’t work very well. Not when her midriff feels like it’s on fire. She closes her eyes, a soft groan escaping her lips. Her eyes open again when Nadia’s grip on her tightens.

“What were you thinking?”

The exasperation in her tone can’t hide any of the worry behind it. Afsaneh snorts weakly, wincing when it sharpens the pain.

“Not much. It was either you or me. And you were sleeping.”

Nadia frowns, obviously not pleased with the answer. But in all fairness, Afsaneh isn’t sure there is any answer she can give right now that would please her. Afsaneh reaches out with her hand, biting down a pained gasp as the motion pulls at her side. Nevertheless, she cups Nadia’s cheek in her trembling, clammy hand.

“I’ll be fine.”

Nadia gazes down at her intensely, a storm of emotions behind her eyes. She opens her mouth to say something when the door is pushed open and a team of palace doctors rush into the door.

They move quickly, one of them kneeling down beside Afsaneh as the other ushers Nadia out of the door despite her protest.

“Please, You Excellency, if you could just wait outsi–”

“But I can’t leave her now!”

She attempts to push past the man and is stopped by a gentle but firm hand to her shoulder. She turns a hard stare on the doctor and he swallows visibly under the force of it.

“W-we promise, we will take the best of care. But we require some privacy.”

Before Nadia can answer, Portia appears at her side. She puts a hand on Nadia’s elbow, giving a gentle smile.

“Come, M’lady. I’m sure the doctors will be glad not to have you breathing down their necks.”

Nadia shoots her a sharp gaze and Portia reddens slightly, but stands her ground, waiting until Nadia relents with a sigh. She lets herself be guided away, eyes lingering on her bedroom door.

Portia leads her to an adjacent sitting room and Nadia collapses onto one of the seats, her face in her hands. Worry gnaws at her, winding a tight coil around her chest. She keeps seeing Afsaneh before her, hair tussled, skin paling, a pool of red growing slowly beneath her. She swallows hard against the fear that rises within her. She’ll be alright.

And yet. What if.

Her stomach twists with a sickening feeling of dread. How could she have ever let this happen? Where were the guards when she needed them, for goodness sake! An assassin! How could they have let an assassin onto the palace grounds, into the palace!

But she supposes that was on her for not stationing the guards well enough. Or for under-staffing. Or not providing them with enough training. Or not locking the window. Or not hearing the intruder. Or not waking up in time. Or not fighting the assassin herself. Or–

Nadia gasps. The worry, the blame. She feels like it’s choking her.

“M’lady…”

Portia’s hand is on her arm. A warm, anchoring pressure.

“She’ll be all right. We have the best doctors. And besides, a stab wound like that won’t just do you in. Ilya said so once.”

Why Julian was talking to his sister about stab wounds is beyond Nadia, not to mention the fact that she isn’t sure the doctor’s facts are quite accurate, but she appreciates Portia’s efforts at reassurance.

“Thank you, Portia.”

Her voice is soft and a little hoarse. She clears her throat and sits up straighter, clasping her hands tightly together.

The wait seems endless. Portia’s attempts at conversation soon secede and they are left in silence. Nadia worries her lips between her teeth, the hem of her robe between her fingers. Her gaze is fixed somewhere into the distance, unseeing. The image of bloodied Afsaneh unwilling to leave her mind. Absentmindedly, she rubs at the red stains on her own hands.

Finally, the door to the room creaks open and a servant informs them that the Countess is welcome to return to her room now. Nadia jerks to her feet, posture stiff, and rushes past the servant before they can say another word.

*

Through heavy eyelids, Afsaneh watches the doctors pack up their utensils. They have given her something and now the world seems a little fuzzy. She doesn’t mind, the bed is soft beneath her and the pain in her side has dulled. A quite welcome sensation. She leans deeper into the pillows and closes her eyes.

She hears the door open and urgent steps approaching the bed. When she opens her eyes again, Nadia is looking down at her, her expression a mix of worry and relief.

“You’re all right.” A confirmation to herself. 

Her fingers graze Afsaneh’s cheek, then run gingerly along the white bandage that is wrapped around her middle.

“Mhm. All good.”

The words feel thick and awkward in her mouth. But Nadia’s hands on her arms, her face, in her hair, they feel good. She sighs softly and leans into the touch.

“How could you put yourself in danger like that?”

Afsaneh frowns. What sort of question was that? The answer was obvious.

“For you.”

She blinks up at Nadia and sees tears glistening in her eyes. Her heart clenches.

“Oh, no no, don’t cry.”

She raises her hand to Nadia’s face, brushing a stray tear away with her thumb.

“I’m all right. I’ll be good as new.” She crooks her lips into a small smile. “Plus, I’ll have a cool battle scar now.”

Nadia’s breath hitches in her throat. A laugh, a sob, or both.

“You reckless fool.” It would be reprimanding if there wasn’t a tremble in her voice. She grasps Afsaneh’s hand, holding it tighter against her cheek, turning her head and grazing her lips against the palm.

“Hm, The Fool.” Afsaneh waggles her eyebrows a little, which earns her another sob or laugh. “You’re fool.” That earns her an exasperated huff, though it can’t compete with the worried fondness in Nadia’s eyes.

Afsaneh pulls Nadia closer to her so she ends up with her head resting in the crook of Afsaneh’s neck. Nadia shifts and is soon lying beside her, on arm slung carefully around her. She presses a kiss to Afsaneh’s cheek. Then another. Her fingers trace gently over her chest, her arms, as if confirming that nothing else is out of place, that Afsaneh is still here, with her.

Afsaneh closes her eyes and hums softly. Whatever the doctors gave her is pulling more and more at her consciousness. She feels Nadia’s lips grazing her temple, then her breath against her ear as Nadia whispers.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Hm, no promises.” She struggling to form the words in her mouth now, sleep almost pulling her under completely. Sluggish, she turns her head and kisses Nadia’s hair. “Not when you’re in danger... Not when I can protect you...”

[the-navistar-carol]

Daminette Songfic — “Stronger” from Finding Neverland

Ok so technically this is a follow-up to my ‘Invisible Thread’ fic because 1) that BROKE 500 NOTES THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH and 2) literally everyone who reblogged or commented requested that to happen. There is a time jump from ‘Invisible Thread’ to here, because they know each others’ identities and are now currently dating.

This is nowhere near as good as ‘Invisible Thread’ and I can say that freely. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!! @ozmav @maribat-archive :)))

Before you read, trigger warning — death, gore, swearing.

In the darkest place is the faintest light

Gives me hope to face the hardest fight

Marinette. He had to get back to Marinette.

Hawkmoth would conquer all of Paris, maybe more.

The only person that stood in his way was Ladybug, was Marinette, his soulmate.

Damian cast a scorching glare around his surroundings. He stood in a cave, the only exit caved in. It was large enough for him to see the cavern around him, and too empty for his liking.

Stalactites thick around as his wrist hung from the ceiling, some of them reaching the floor as columns.

Someone had been elegant enough as to provide one, single, red LED lantern. Or, rather, it had fallen in with him. It sat tipped over five feet away, glowing like a sun.

The mark on his hand, usually pink, silver, and blue, was bathed in red.

Pain delivers me

His side flared, and it was only then that he remembered he’d been clawed.

Right.

Stripping off his shirt (it was too thin for the Parisian weather, anyway, and gray) he tore it to carefully bandage the injury, cleaning what he could.

Damn cats and their claws.

The white claw-tipped gloves had turned crimson and then a ruddy brown as they’d gone through his side.

And now he was here.

No matter. He’d worked through worse.

And he’d work through this.

I don't need their sympathy

Growling, Damian stalked over to the cave-in, surveying it for possible weaknesses.

He could’ve punted me into a place easier to escape from.

The rubble wasn’t evenly sized, all jagged and sharp, which was almost bothersome, but they formed a rough slope.

An endless Cataclysm would create problems.

Which it does.

So he set to work, flinging rocks away from the top by the white light of the lantern. Next camping trip, he would insist on the Coleman brand. They definitely worked.

The hole grew, slowly but steadily, and he worked through his pain and exhaustion.

Gonna have to try better than that.

Cause they can't take away my might

Where I go they will never find

The hole wouldn’t be more than a crawl space between the roof of the cave mouth and the rubble. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it didn’t need to be.

He’d take a scraped back or battered hands if that was what it took.

Because that was what it took.

And he would take more.

For Gotham, for his family. For Paris, even if he didn’t really like the city.

For her.

The hole grew.

I've got to be stronger

Reach up higher

How far back did this blasted cave-in go?!

No matter how much he removed, hands bleeding on the tips of his fingers, on his palms, wrists, forearms, there was always another rock.

His soulmate mark was crusted in rusty brown. Its pretty colors could barely be seen.

He couldn’t let himself dwell on this. If he stopped to think, he’d be crushed.

Literally? Maybe.

The rocks digging into his spine, the backs of his ribs, they agreed with the sentiment.

Tch. He had had to prove himself to a good many things.

The rocks would be another one on that list.

Dumb rocks.

He’d move a mountain if that was what it took.

Must dig deeper

Find the fire

Finally.

Finally.

Damian had never put any stock into the whole ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ thing. But now?

Now, as he crawled out of a hole in the ground, bleeding and covered in dirt, and into the fresh Parisian air, he believed it.

The young, green trees on the sides of the streets were still tied to their support poles. Rubble covered the paved streets, cars of all colors and sizes had been flung into buildings.

Bodies — bodies — littered the ground. Blood pooled in patches, rivers, trickles. No matter who or where, it was always the same deep red. Almost black, even.

His mouth dried, his tongue felt too large for his mouth. Hawkmoth hasn’t killed people before.

Ironic. The one person in charge of this damn mess was the one person (was he even a person?) he knew hadn’t ended a life.

Be enlightened

Can't be frightened anymore

His legs wobbled beneath him, so he picked up a wooden pole from where it had been uprooted, next to its slender, frail tree (the leaves were still green, but the birds’ nest had fallen, its eggs had cracked) for stability.

The birds wouldn’t return. Not without the Miraculous Cure, if it happened this time.

People had died this time. Maybe this time, Hawkmoth really was holding up to his promise that he would do anything to reach the Miraculi.

People died, he reminded himself with a snarl which was suspiciously animalistic. That woman with blonde hair, her glasses were shattered and blood stained the back of her hideous leopard-print blouse.

That man with the buzz-cut, he stared up at the sky with unseeing eyes as pale as the sky. They would see the sky no longer.

That child — that girl — lay in the middle of the road, half-curled into a ball. Her red hair spilled over her back, blending with the puncture wound through her chest.

Hawkmoth is going to fucking pay.

I can run now, so much faster

Now defeat won't be my master

Damian struggled on, his right hand clutching the pole and his left at his side, putting pressure on his injury. One step at a time.

The sounds of conflict grew now, and he picked up the pace.

Shouts echoed through the quiet streets of Paris (this quiet wasn’t because of peace, not anymore) of determination and rage.

Angel.

He saw a flash of blue and black, and heard a zap of electricity. The familiar whizz of a grapple sounded from above, and he was scooped up off the ground and launched into the air.

With a hiss of pain, he scrabbled in the grip until he realized the familiar person next to him was Nightwing.

“Keep calm, little D,” Nightwing murmured, and dropped him in an alleyway, away from the fighting.

“We’ve got to stop this.”

For to conquer the demons I won't have to wait any longer

I've got to be stronger

He wasn’t Robin right now. There was no cape behind him, nor military-grade boots on his feet. Not even a domino mask, to preserve his identity.

He wasn’t his mother’s assassin, either, perfectly poised and ready to strike with his injury.

He was only Damian Wayne, armed with a splintering garden pole.

But he pressed on, only determination, spite, and willpower left in his arsenal.

No fancy tricks or midair flips.

Just him.

You'll see in time

You will survive

He limped along the streets of Paris, heading straight for the fight. Well, not really. He had to take breaks when he felt like his side was on fire, which was a lot more than he was used to.

A red blur zoomed through the rooftops and he tensed, thinking it was another akuma of Hawkmoth — well, Scarlet Moth now — but when the figure landed before him, it was all he could do to not lurch into her arms.

Ladybug did it for him, squeezing him tight. He didn’t even complain when his side erupted, pole clattering to the ground as he returned the hug, arms twining around her.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, shaking her head. “But then Nightwing told me he found you. Rena is out of commission, and Carapace’ll follow soon.

“I need you, Damian. Not as Robin.”

She let go of him, standing straight, and held out a hand. In it rested a black octagonal box, red design twining across its facets.

“I present to you the Miraculous of the Tiger, which gives the power of invisibility. Your brothers are already outfitted.”

He took it without hesitation.

Too soon to run

Too late to hide

He didn’t even flinch when the kwami — Roaar — zoomed out in a burst of yellow light. When it dimmed, he spotted a black-and-yellow panjas bracelet, which he slipped on, listening to her.

“Who are you?” the kwami demanded, buzzing into his face, her tiny tail lashing. “You’re injured, you’ll never do!”

Ladybug frowned, shaking her head at the kwami. “Roaar. Leave your personal feelings out of this, he’s the only one who’d fit you.”

She sniffed, tiny fangs flashing, but turned to him anyway. “I assume you know the drill. For five minutes, you will become invisible with the command Hunter. All you have to do to transform is say stripes rise, and to detransform, it’s stripes fade.”

Damian nodded to Roaar. “I look forward to working with you.” At her nod of approval, he tightened his fist. “Roaar, stripes rise!”

In a flash of magenta light, his pain faded and new strength rose to take its place.

It's your destiny

Every pace, every strife

He grinned, feeling the sharpened teeth against his gums. Ladybug closed her eyes, let out a long breath, and unhooked her yo-yo. “Let’s get going.”

Roaar had given him a croquet-like mallet and discs on a belt, the mallet on his back like Chat Noir’s baton. His suit was red, black stripes offset by white criss-crossing his frame. The armor on it was lighter, surprisingly supple, and almost changed shades as he moved into the light. Combat boots similar to his Robin boots laced halfway up his shin, the suit’s gloves retaining the familiar fins.

Damian glanced into a shattered window, taking in his reflection. His hair was now shot through with red, almost like a tiger’s stripes. The domino mask across his face was like so, a deep auburn with the beginnings of white strips at its corners, and unlike Ladybug’s, two white fang-shaped crescents peeled down over his jawbone.

He unhooked the mallet, testing its weight. It was perfectly balanced, made of red material with, of course, black stripes running diagonally across its length.

“I agree. Let’s go.”

And he sprang into the air, super-charged with the kwami’s godlike strength, Ladybug zipping beside him on her yo-yo.

I am stronger

Reach up higher

Rena Rouge and Carapace were nowhere to be seen. A monkey hero wielding a staff had entered the fray aside Queen Bee, who could only have been Tim. An ox hero fought aside them, charging at akuma in his way — Jason. Clones of a rooster hero, however odd, fought with only the acrobatics of Dick.

A smile almost tugged its way onto his face. They were here. His brothers, they were here.

Scarlet Moth and Mayura — or the akumatized Catalyst — were nowhere to be found.

His feeling of something close to pride was shot down as Queen Bee screamed, Ladybug’s eyes widening as a white (and now rusty red) figure shot through their ranks, white claws turning red as they dug into her side.

Chat Blanc.

Fury twisted his insides, and he leaped down, hefting one of the discs. Trusting in the Miraculous, he tossed it into the air and whacked it with the mallet, sending it flying.

The disc shot through akuma like a rebounding chakram, smashing bones, armor, and akumatized objects at will, and struck Chat Blank in the back with a solid crunch.

Digging deeper

Find the fire

Chat Blanc fell, scrabbling at the ground. Damian snagged his ring with a sneer, smashing the center gem. An akuma flitted out, which Ladybug purified. He tucked the ring into a pocket, for her to take to the master later.

Queen Bee had fallen, Tim getting her to safety as Jason and Dick closed ranks around him and Ladybug.

“I see you’ve got a new outfit, little D,” Dick grinned.

“Tt. It has a better look than that ridiculous color scheme of yours.”

“Ah, you’re just jealous.”

“Compare sizes later, boys,” Ladybug ordered, yo-yo spinning. “We’ve got a job to do.”

“Can do,” Dick replied cheerily, readying his balero.

The akuma ran at them, and Jason, with the fortitude of the Ox, met them in stride, plowing through their ranks like, well, a bull in a china shop.

He fought akuma after akuma, breaking object after object as the three brothers — four as soon as Tim returned — made a circle around Ladybug, who purified the akuma.

Rena Rouge returned to the fight, joining their fight, but Carapace and Queen Bee were nowhere to be seen. “Carapace is taking care of Queenie,” she relayed. “They’re safe.”

Were they?

Feel enlightened

Won't be frightened, anymore

Finally — finally — they stood up against none. A lone scarlet butterfly flitted into view, catching Ladybug’s eye. She purified it, then began to zip in the direction from where it had come. The brothers followed her, trusting in her judgement as Scarlet Moth sent out another red akuma, purified it, and followed its course again.

One way or another, they would find Hawkmoth.

A beeping from Tim’s circlet alerted him that he was about to transform back, so he fell back, promising to catch up.

The team found themselves staring at Agreste Mansion, as fury built in Damian. Ladybug’s yo-yo whizzed by, catching another akuma as it flitted from the window.

“Damn him,” growled Jason. “Go fucking figure.”

She said nothing, merely readied her yo-yo and launched herself skyward, only to shatter the window of Hawkmoth’s lair. The three brothers and Rena thudded down beside her, ready for justice.

I can run now

So much faster

It was five on two. Hawkmoth never stood a chance. He was first rammed into the wall by Jason, Catalyst attacked by Rena and Jason at once.

Jason stepped aside to let Damian deal his blows, and then he, too, stood to the side as Ladybug stood over the weakened Hawkmoth, no sneer on her face.

Instead, it was almost… one of pity.

Rena Rouge yanked Catalyst’s akumatized iPad away, smashing it. The akuma form bubbled away to reveal Nathalie Sancour, a flickering Peacock Miraculous on her chest. She gently unclasped it, cradling the pin in her hands.

She crouched, and removed the brooch of the Butterfly. A purple light flashed, and Gabriel Agreste lay at her feet. One blow from Jason sent him unconscious.

The fox superheroine handed Ladybug the Peacock Miraculous, and the red-themed superheroine gave her a nod of thanks. “Rooster, alert the police.”

Dick saluted, and bounded out the window.

Now defeat won't be my master

They were done. They were done.

As the last traces of Miraculous Ladybug swept across the skies of Paris, the four Gothamites and the four Parisians stood on the top of the rooftops in wonder.

“Your Miraculi, please.” Ladybug’s voice was thick as the Butterfly, Peacock, and Black Cat kwami floated at her shoulders, almost melancholy that this would end.

“Orikko, end my cry.”

“Xuppu, show’s over.”

“Stompp, rampage’s done.”

“Roaar, stripes fade.”

The four sons of Bruce Wayne stood on the rooftop, Queen Bee nodding. “I thought she might pick you guys.”

“Wayzz, shell off.”

“Trixx, let’s rest.”

“Pollen, buzz off.”

Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, and Chloé Bourgeois stood before them, kwami at their shoulder.

They looked to Ladybug, who gazed at them back with tears in her eyes.

“Tikki, spots off.”

For to conquer the demons

I won't have to wait any longer

Summer had begun. Paris was beginning to heal. Gabriel and Nathalie were imprisoned, as was Lila. Adrien was sent to live with his uncle in England, clearly getting the easy way out.

Alya, Nino, and Chloé walked out of school with Marinette, chatting happily amongst themselves. New earrings shone in Marinette’s ears, this time permanently jeweled in red-and-black. In fact, the four all carried tokens similar to their Miraculi, some subtler than others.

The Wayne boys met them at the bottom of the stairs, eager for a new start.

Damian pulled Marinette into a searing kiss, and his soul mark warmed against her jawline, her own happily tingling as she snaked her arm around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Alya’s palm flashed green and blue as she snapped a picture on her camera, Nino’s shimmering orange and white when he pushed up his glasses.

Chloé’s soul mark was clear for the world to see on her right shoulder, red and gold and black starkly contrasting with her white strapless crop-top. Kagami, happy to be out of her mother’s clutches for once, waved a greeting with her yellow-and-black hand.

They could finally, finally come out on top.

They weren’t perfect, but they were better than when they had begun.

I am stronger

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Water Rescue:  Part Three

and so ends “Water Rescue”. as usual, go politely yell/gush at @rueitae for envisioning the mage/familiar AU here and here. i also owe her for letting me play in her sandbox, as the saying goes

this final part is ~5500 words. enjoy!! <3 

warning for non-graphic violence/major character injury

Read on ao3 | Read Part One | Read Part Two

There was little reason for Pidge to be so exhausted this early in the day, little reason but staying up too late and waking up too early. She dragged her feet through the village, plastering a half-hearted smile onto her face after knocking on cottage doors and waiting for a resident to greet her.

“I have your sleeping draft, Madame,” Pidge said when the baker’s wife opened her door. She offered the bottle to her, all while wishing she could uncork it and down its contents for herself, perhaps curl up on the porch beside the cat that, somehow, didn’t rouse at her approach.

“Thank you, Pidge,” said the baker’s wife after taking the bottle. “Did you add something to it to mask the taste?”

Pidge grimaced and admitted, “I forgot. I had to make several batches this time, so I couldn’t take special orders into account.”

Her customer sighed. “I guess it’s still worth it.” She then passed Pidge a few coins, which she carefully tucked into her belt pouch before picking up her steadily emptying bag and retreating back to the main road.

To her surprise, the cat followed her, nearly tripping Pidge as it tried to pass between her ankles. She cursed but caught herself after stumbling forwards a few paces, right as the cat froze, its amber eyes fixed on a point that she couldn’t see.

Pidge raised an eyebrow at it. “Did you spot a mouse?”

Predictably, the cat ignored her and darted away down the road, its bushy gray tail streaming out behind it.

Pidge took the opportunity the quiet moment allowed her to check her bag for the remaining orders she had to fill, and when she only spotted a few bottles, she smiled in relief. With luck, everything but one would take less than an hour to deliver, and after visiting Allura and Coran, she could be on her way home in time to get back by sunset. And then perhaps a nap before she tended to the garden, and then, maybe, Lance would finally arrive.

The thought of Lance brought both a flush to her face and a slump to her shoulders. He should’ve visited days ago, if the pattern held, and for every day he didn’t—

Pidge scowled, inhaling bracingly before setting her shoulders and continuing the rest of her tasks, pushing Lance from her mind and hoping he’d stay out until she had a second to spare.

When she was finally on her way to Allura’s, her bag far lighter than before, a gray blur skittered across her path.

Pidge stared as the cat pursued a white rat - no, a large, white mouse - with copious whiskers sprouting from its snout. Its pointed ears twitched frantically, but then it spun around, standing on its hind legs and facing down the cat.

The mouse sneezed.

The cat recoiled with an undignified, pained yowl, every hair along its spine standing on end. The mouse nodded as if satisfied, with its hands on its hips, its mannerisms eerily human.

Pidge stifled a giggle, then approached the mouse, which peered up at her with beady blue-black eyes. “What did you do to it?” she asked.

“Taught it not to mess with me,” the mouse replied with a firm nod.

“I thought the village cats already knew not to mess with you,” Pidge said.

“That one must not have gotten the message.” The mouse turned, falling back to all fours as it started in a different direction.

Pidge followed close behind, careful not to overtake it though the pace her stride set was greater. “I thought you preferred walking around the village in human form, Coran,” she said.

The mouse’s ear twitched. “I did, but then I remembered how much fun being so small is.” It squeaked, a sound which Pidge took as a strange, mousy laugh. “Why didn’t you remind me sooner, Number Five?”

(Pidge had no idea why Coran insisted on calling her that.)

She rolled her eyes and grumbled, “I’m not that small.”

“No, I suppose you haven’t been this small since you were a wee fetus in your mother’s womb,” Coran said cheerfully.

“I—”

“By the way, Number Five, have you been getting enough sleep?” Coran cut Pidge off, sparing her the need to formulate a reply. The mouse tilted its head back, pace faltering just slightly, and observed, “Your eyes are looking very droopy, and you’re dragging your feet.”

The comment stunned Pidge into a stop just a few yards away from Allura’s shop entrance. She rubbed her burning eyes with one hand and tightened her grip on her bag with the other. “I’m just a bit…worried,” she confessed carefully. “The life around the lake doesn’t feel as it should.”

It wasn’t all that bothered her, not when she hadn’t seen Lance in almost two months, but it was significant enough that she felt drained of energy most of the time.

Her damn sensitivity to nature sometimes worked against her as much as it strengthened her.

At a tug on her trouser leg, Pidge glanced down to see Coran standing beside her foot. “Ah, yes, I was wondering if I imagined that my garden isn’t doing well. Perhaps after you and Allura conduct your business, you can take a look?”

Pidge nodded. “Sure,” she said. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Coran left her at the door, slipping through a crack in the wall big enough for a rat-sized mouse but far too small for a short woman. And within a few seconds, the door opened in front of her, a tall man with neatly combed orange hair and a matching, bushy mustache smiling down at her.

At least he remembered to put on clothes before greeting her at the door…

“Welcome, Number Five, to Allura’s crystal shop,” Coran said. “How may we be of service today?”

Pidge snorted as she slid her bag down to rest in the crook of her elbow, already reaching inside while Coran shut the door behind her. “I’ve been here more times than I can count, Coran,” she reminded him.

“So you have,” Coran agreed, twirling the end of his mustache. “It still does to be polite when greeting potential customers.”

Pidge glanced around the empty shop, far smaller than Shiro’s and Hunk’s in her hometown, though it sold similar wares. The demand for Balmeran crystals in this village was nothing like it was in the city, and Allura didn’t have the skill to cut them like Hunk did. But she was far more adept at infusing them with magic, and individual crystals glowed so powerfully here that the shop needn’t bother with windows for sunlight.

“Who are you talking to, Coran?” a voice spoke up from the back, and Allura herself walked in, her heeled shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. She beamed as brightly as any crystal when her eyes fell on Pidge, her earrings glittering with stored magic. “Pidge! What brings you to the village?”

“Just deliveries,” Pidge said with a quick smile. “Yours are the only ones I have left.” She took the last few bottles from her bag and handed them to Allura, who tucked them into the voluminous sleeves of her dress without examining them.

“Well,” Pidge said, shouldering her bag again and stepping towards the door, “that’s everything. I should be—”

“Didn’t you ask her to check your garden, Coran?” Allura interrupted, frowning at her familiar.

Pidge tensed, stifling a sigh, and said, “Yes, he did. I’ll go do that now.” She swept past Allura, through the kitchen behind the shop, and out the door that led to the garden.

Behind her, she heard Allura ask, “What’s the hurry, Pidge?”

Pidge paused in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder. “I’m just expecting company,” she said, shrugging and feigning nonchalance. “The idiot can’t be bothered to tell me dates anymore, so I have to guess.”

Never mind that, so far, her guess was several days off the mark than ever before.

Pidge swallowed the flash of anger and dismissed the unhappy thought that Lance might’ve simply not wanted to visit her anymore. He’s probably just busy, she told herself. He has a big family; maybe a new niece or nephew hatched…

They were empty platitudes meant to comfort her, though sometimes they worked.

Now they didn’t, but they thought that he’d stop coming no longer made her heart sink. She knew he’d tell her if anything prevented or stopped him, so something must’ve happened.

Something awful, an emergency he couldn’t escape. Her palms grew uncomfortably damp, and she stared out at Coran’s garden with wide, unseeing eyes.

“Who are you expecting, Number Five?”

Coran’s voice pulled her out of her head and back to the present, and she turned to see him and Allura peering at her worriedly. She forced a smile onto her face and said, “Just Lance.”

“Oh, just Lance?” Allura grinned. “If it’s just Lance, then he won’t mind us keeping you for dinner, maybe even for you to stay the night, or—”

“No, I have to be home in case he comes today,” Pidge said, maybe a little too quickly judging by the slight widening of Allura’s eyes. Her cheeks warmed, and she amended, “I sleep better in my own bed.”

“With Lance?” Coran raised an eyebrow at her.

“What? That has nothing to do with it!” Pidge returned her attention to the garden and hoped neither of them could see how lividly red her face must’ve been.

“Perhaps it is for the best that you leave sooner,” Allura agreed, to her surprise. “There has been some…concerning activity around the lake of late.”

Pidge gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Finish your look at the garden,” Allura said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Then we’ll talk.”

Pidge scowled, but Allura retreated back inside before she could argue. So she closed her eyes and extended feelers towards the flora surrounding her.

Coran’s garden was well-tended, mostly vegetables and a few saplings that would one day bear fruit. He was practical - perhaps it was the mouse in him - and rarely planted anything for aesthetic value. But despite the season, no vines yielded flowers, and little new growth could be spotted.

When her magic touched the nearest grapevine, its energy recoiled in alarm. But Pidge coaxed it out within seconds, reading its fear of…corruption.

She repeated the process with most of the rest of the garden, sensing the same trepidation in each plant. They grew but little, their purpose altered so that they didn’t seek to bear fruit, only to survive. And when she crouched beside a tomato vine, funneling magic into it to convince it to flower, it took far more of her energy than it should’ve.

The garden was far from dead, but it behaved just like it was winter rather than spring.

Pidge stood and faced Coran, who watched her efforts with a clinical gaze. She rested a hand against her head at a sudden rush of dizziness, but when it passed she told him, “They’re afraid, so they’re still hibernating. My garden’s the same.”

“Afraid of what?” Coran wondered.

“Corruption,” Pidge said. She bit her lip, worried and wishing they could tell her more, but as her own garden knew little of the source, so did this one.

Coran sighed. “I suppose Allura and I will be relying more on the market for food this year then,” he complained.

Pidge snorted and didn’t bother pointing out that Allura was easily the wealthiest person she’d ever met, here or in the city.

She followed Coran back inside, prepared to leave until she spotted Allura approaching her with a bundled handkerchief in her hands.

“I didn’t pay you for the tonics earlier,” Allura said with a sheepish smile.

Pidge laughed and held out her hand, then raised a surprised eyebrow when Allura put a few coins rather than the handkerchief on her palm. “Thank you.” She slipped the coins into her belt pouch. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I…noticed your energy isn’t the same as usual,” Allura explained. “I fear that whatever’s affecting Coran’s garden must also be hurting you.”

Pidge blinked at her, stunned that she noticed - until she remembered Allura’s unique ability to read magic and energy. “Do you know what’s corrupting the lake’s flora?”

“I’m afraid that’s one thing I can’t glean,” Allura admitted, her eyes downcast. “But here.” She set the handkerchief in Pidge’s hand. “Use it carefully, but when you do drain it, I’ll be more than happy to refill it.”

Pidge unwrapped the bundle, her eyes widening as she laid them on a small Balmeran crystal set in a simple ring. It glowed as strongly as Allura’s earrings. “I…can’t accept this, Allura,” she said, glancing up at her. “This is too generous, and—”

“Take it,” Allura insisted. “I have a feeling you’ll need it.”

Pidge grinned, excitement taking root at the prospect of using the crystal. She’d never used one before and, once she accepted Allura’s generosity, was eager to try it on her way home.

“And, Pidge…” Allura sighed. “Warn Lance.”

“Of what?”

“There’s been some strange activity around the lake and in the village,” Allura said. “I suspect at least some of it is due to dragon hunters.”

“What?” Pidge wrapped her fingers around the crystal as her heart skipped a beat.

“One of them came into my shop,” Allura said, her eyes narrowing. “He had the audacity to think I’d sell him one of my crystals or tell him anything about rumored dragon sightings.”

“Y-you didn’t…”

“Of course not!” Allura said. “Despite his…inappropriate flirting when we met, I’d hate to see anything bad happen to him.”

Pidge couldn’t help her scowl and stab of irritation at the reminder. The first time she brought Lance to the village, he’d been quick to try his hand flirting with Allura, practically preening and tilting his head in a way that his scales caught the sunlight. Allura herself was quick to disabuse him of any notion she was interested, and even later provided him with a stern chat.

(Pidge never expected to see the day that a mouse intimidated a dragon.)

Not that the memory mattered now. It had been almost a year since then, and Pidge had another dilemma on her hands.

Her heart pounded as a new fear took hold. “I have to go then,” she told Allura and Coran. “I have to tell him.”

If he was my familiar, I could’ve warned him already.

Pidge cursed herself for her own cowardice, that she couldn’t bring herself to ask last time she saw him. She’d never put it off again, she decided; in fact, it would be the first thing she asked this time.

“Then go,” Allura said, understanding in her smile. “And come back again soon so we can invite you for dinner.”

Pidge grimaced, remembering the last time she ate Coran’s cooking, but she said, “I’ll look forward to it.”

After a quick, warm hug from Allura, Coran guided her to the door. As she stepped outside, he said, “He won’t say no.”

Pidge stiffened and glanced at him. “Who won’t say no to what?”

Coran smiled. “You know.”

“I—”

He shut the door in her face.

Pidge frowned at it, then spun on her heel and stalked down the main road. She set a quick pace, slipping the crystal ring onto a finger and stuffing the handkerchief into her belt pouch.

She struck her usual path out of the village and around the lake, sticking within the shade of the short trees that grew in the marsh. Her feet sank into soft ground and roots stuck out, threatening to trip her if she didn’t watch her step.

The whole marsh and the outlying forest seemed…depressed. They didn’t flourish like they should in the spring, greens muted into browns and yellows while branches and tendrils drooped.

This depression - this corruption the flora whispered about when Pidge prompted them with her magic touch - affected even the creatures of the marsh. No moths or butterflies fluttered through the air, no frogs lurked in the ponds, and no squirrels skittered over tree trunks.

The eeriness filled Pidge with a sense of foreboding, and between that and her new fears for Lance, she hiked as quickly as her strength allowed her. Even with the crystal Allura gave her, Pidge didn’t want to use the magic encased within except as a last resort.

She was less than halfway home, barely an hour shy of sunset, when voices drifted across the marsh.

Harsh, male voices, Pidge observed, and they were loud and brazen enough to set her on edge. She slowed her approach and ducked behind a tree, peering around it.

“Haxus, why is it that we are not yet out of the marshes?” the first man asked.

The tallest frowned at a parchment map spread between his hands. “I may have underestimated the distance between the lake and the travelers’ road,” he said mildly.

The first man piped up, “I see no reason we can’t camp here.”

The taller man grumbled, “You really want to spend one more night in this godforsaken marsh, man?” He nodded towards what looked like a long, water-filled box at the edge of the clearing. “No, the sooner we return to Daibazaal with our living quarry, the better it’ll be for our pockets. If it gets any weaker, I fear it won’t be worth as much.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes at the thing the man indicated. It lay in heavy shadow beneath a taller tree, and when she couldn’t make it out, she reached out to the tree, probing it for answers and trying to see what it did.

Trees were surprisingly verbose for flora and could even hold simple conversations, their thoughts more complex than those of smaller, faster growing plants. But rather than bare speech, all Pidge sensed from it at first was anxiety.

Pidge flinched away from it, the feeling making her heart pound and stomach churn, but she pressed the tree for details.

Bleeding dragon, it replied. Weaker than a seedling.

Pidge’s eyes shot open as she gasped, horrified at what the tree showed her. “Lance,” she hissed, fingers curling around the trunk of the tree she hid behind. Something hot and angry twisted in her gut, replacing her fear with an urge to move and to fight.

But she forced herself to take account first, to observe and to gather information. She couldn’t just draw energy from the crystal ring, couldn’t just call upon the weak flora in the marsh to capture the two men before her, not when they somehow incapacitated a dragon.

They were dragon hunters, just like Allura warned her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, blood rushing and feeding her limbs strength that she shouldn’t have after so little sleep and so long on foot. And Pidge realized that Lance could’ve avoided this if only she bonded him when they had the chance.

Pidge closed her eyes again, reaching out to the vegetation that grew in the marsh, to the creepers and vines that wound around tree trunks and branches and extended across the rare footpath, lying in wait to trip and tangle unsuspecting travelers.

But with the flora so dormant of late…

Wake, she bid the vines in the trees overhead. Creep, tangle, bind… She reminded the sleeping vines of their purpose, to ensnare and to entangle, to wind and to strangle. Then, when too few responded to her call, when only the youngest and weakest met her request, she inhaled.

Magic funneled from the crystal ring into Pidge. A soft gasp escaped her at the sudden rush of energy, but before she could revel and truly enjoy it, she expelled it into the world around her.

Creepers burst from tree branches and shot down towards the men making camp beneath. They screamed in alarm as thick tendrils wound around their arms and legs, binding them tightly to their bodies.

Pidge’s lips twitched up into a smirk as she half-watched, half-felt the vines pulling the men up into the trees, the contents of their pockets falling to the ground below. She bid the vines to tie the dragon hunters to the trunks and to keep them there, feeding them extra energy from the crystal ring to hold them while she redirected her attention onto something - someone - more important.

“Lance!” Pidge shouted, dropping her bag and sprinting across the half-built camp towards the box. She knelt beside it, inspected what now looked like a glass casket filled with water, and touched Lance’s cheek.

He lay in the water like the glass casket was his bathtub, eyes closed as if he slept. His scales looked unhealthy and wan without their usual glimmer, his skin pale and clammy. An arrow stuck out of his shoulder, oozing dark blood into the water.

Pidge reached into the water, intent on taking his hand and doing something to revive him, but then an awful, barely familiar emptiness touched the edges of her mind.

She flinched away, shaking her hand in an attempt to dispel the feeling, and stared at the hungry center of that vacancy.

The arrowhead half-buried in Lance’s shoulder pulsed with an ugly violet light.

Pidge resisted the urge to stumble away at the sight of the corrupted Balmeran crystal, its negative energy so different from that of the crystal on her finger. It explained how two mere humans - how dragon hunters - could’ve subdued him, but—

“I’m sorry, Lance,” Pidge muttered, swallowing around a sudden lump in her throat. “I should’ve asked you last time.” She gritted her teeth and gripped the arrow’s shaft as close to the head as she could get without her skin brushing the corrupted crystal.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep, gravelly voice spoke from behind her.

Pidge froze, heart jumping into her throat.

She’d missed a dragon hunter.

“I need the dragon alive, you see,” the voice explained, “and if you pull that arrow out, it’ll bleed to death within minutes.”

Pidge stood slowly and turned to face the third dragon hunter, her mouth set into a scowl and her heart pounding furiously. She reached for the vines again, saw them begin to descend on the man, eager to tie him to his companions.

The dragon hunter narrowed his single eye at her.

Pidge pulled magic from her crystal ring.

The vines grew, wrapping around one of the man’s arms. But he growled, a spark flashing between his fingers before he lashed out.

A burst of flame erupted from his hand, igniting the vines and breaking their grip on him.

Pidge’s eyes widened, recognizing a fire mage, but she refused to be cowed. She forgot all wariness of overtaxing herself, drawing as much of the ring’s magic as she could hold, and threw it into the marsh.

The flora burst into life, trees all but glowing with a fresh green while vines and creepers dangled to the ground below. Roots creaked, their ends thrashing out of the wet ground and scrambling for a new hold.

The dragon hunter - the fire mage - before her only hesitated for an instant before he conjured fireball after fireball, meeting Pidge’s efforts blow for blow. “A child, I thought,” he said, grunting with effort, “but a talented tree talker after all.”

Sweat dripped down her brow, limbs heavy, and her attacks started to weaken as she breathed heavily. Likely as not, the fire mage had a healthy Balmeran crystal of his own, and she needed to end this quickly.

But before Pidge could brace herself for one last, more powerful attack, he pushed towards her. She jumped away from him, but she wasn’t fast enough.

A large hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her breathing. He lifted her into the air, his single eye focused on her face with a glare.

Pidge tried to cough, tried to pull air in through her nostrils, but she couldn’t. Instead her lungs ached, her head light while dark spots crowded her vision.

“The dragon is my quarry,” said the fire mage.

His hand grew hot, scalding her skin, but she couldn’t even draw the air she needed to gasp at the pain.

Then the mage’s eyes widened, his grip on Pidge’s throat slackening, and his fingers uncurled.

Pidge fell, gasping for breath and dropping to all fours as the mage crumbled before her. He put a hand to his chest, and when he pulled it away it was covered in blood.

“Who…?” he said, tone hollow.

A figure stood over him, glaring down at the dragon hunter, a dagger dripping blood in their hand. “Pidge,” they said.

Pidge fought through her exhaustion to stand. She leapt forwards, catching Lance right before his knees buckled. He leaned heavily against her, so she slowly lowered them both, helping him lie down and pillowing his head in her lap.

The arrow still stuck out of his shoulder, the corrupted crystal staring up at her with an evil gleam.

Lance found her hand first, but his grip on her was weak - too weak. “A-are you all right?” he asked her, sounding faint.

“I’m fine,” Pidge said, her voice hoarse. “I’m exhausted, but I’m fine.”

“Good,” Lance said. He smiled warmly up at her. “Sorry I’m so late. Hunters caught me with my pants down…”

“Shh, you’re fine.” She interlaced their fingers together and rubbed a burning eye. “I-I need to fix you. I need to get that arrow out of you—”

“Bleed out f-fast if you do,” Lance argued.

“Th-then take this.” Pidge tugged the crystal ring from her finger, but she hesitated before she could slide it onto one of his. “I-it’ll get corrupted if I give this to you without pulling out the arrow, Lance.”

“Water might help,” Lance suggested.

Pidge searched around for her discarded bag, but Lance grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.

“Not to drink,” he said with a weak chuckle.

“Then…? They had you in a water-filled casket.”

“This stupid crystal’s killing me,” Lance explained. “The water was the only thing keeping me alive.”

Pidge blinked hot tears from her eyes. “I’ll get you back,” she decided, glancing over her shoulder. But she sighed when she saw how far away the casket was. “Once you’re back in water, then we can figure something out.”

“Pidge…” She spun back around when cool, gentle fingers brushed the hot skin on her neck. “He hurt you too.”

“I’ll be fine,” Pidge insisted. “Right now, I’m more worried about you. We need some way to boost your strength and then—”

She knew how she could do it without water.

Her eyes widened in realization, the idea captivating her. It was the only way, but…

“Lance,” she said, carefully cupping his cheeks and meeting his eyes. “I-I need you to let me bond you.”

His jaw dropped, surprisingly comical despite their situation. “A-as your familiar?”

Pidge bit back a reflexive, sarcastic response and said, “Yes. It might be the only way, but I can’t without your—”

“Yes.”

“What?” Pidge stared at him. “Lance, you - we can’t take something like that back, and if one of us dies—”

“Pidge,” Lance said, coughing, “I’m dying. And even if I wasn’t, I’d still…say yes.” Color entered his cheeks, his face warming under her hands.

Pidge gaped at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. D-do you know what to do?”

Her eyes still wide, but with her heart pounding, Pidge shook her head. Then she admitted, “I think I can guess.”

“D-do it then,” Lance said before another fit of coughs seized him.

Pidge’s chest ached seeing him in pain, but she had to shove that aside to perform the task at hand. She pulled all the magic that remained in the crystal ring, closing her eyes as it filled her, then reached for Lance’s consciousness the same way she would reach for flora.

Where most people would have some sort of block between their minds and the rest of the world, Lance’s opened easily when she probed. His mind touched hers, tendrils of thought surrounding her without overwhelming, all manner of emotions filling the space between them.

In exchange, Pidge opened her own mind, trusting someone with the deepest parts of herself for the first time in her life. She let him see her fear for him, her anger at his tardiness, her jealousy about Allura. And in him she read his fury at seeing her in danger, his regret over not coming back sooner, and…something so warm and soft Pidge wished she could weave a blanket from it.

Memories that didn’t belong to her unfolded before her mind’s eye, of playing in a bay with small fishing boats bobbing on the iron-gray waves, of chasing hatchlings over glaciers, of sitting around a fire tended by a tall woman with blood-red scales under her eyes.

(She wondered what memories of hers Lance saw.)

Energy flooded her veins, making her shudder. Her eyes shot open as she gasped, surprised at how rapidly strength returned to her limbs, and when she looked down at Lance he met her eyes with his own wide.

He took her hand in his and rested her palm over his wildly beating heart.

Pidge held her breath and leaned down to press her lips to his forehead. “H-how do you feel?” she said, her voice low so she wouldn’t disrupt the strange and sudden peace that fell over them.

“Amazing,” Lance breathed. “I think I can heal myself now if you take out the arrow.”

“O-oh,” Pidge said with a nervous laugh as she straightened. She’d nearly forgotten the corrupted crystal stuck in Lance.

“I don’t blame you,” Lance commented. “That was…a lot to take in.”

Pidge frowned. “Blame me for what?”

“Forgetting the crystal.” Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you not—”

Pidge sighed and said, “We have a telepathic bond too.”

“Oh, then…oh. That’s going to be…hard to deal with.”

“According to Hunk, we’ll learn how to use it,” Pidge promised. “For now, we need to heal you.”

“Don’t touch the crystal,” Lance reminded her.

Pidge took the arrow’s shaft in her hand again, wary of the emptiness that threatened to suck the magic from her if she touched it, then pulled.

Lance inhaled sharply, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye while more blood soaked into his shirt. Then his hand covered the wound, and he breathed out.

Pidge winced, feeling his pain through their new bond, just as she could feel him pulling magic away from her to heal his injury. She distracted herself by finding the handkerchief Allura gave her earlier and wrapping the bloody, corrupted crystal with it.

“I think I’ll need to head back to the village,” Pidge said, sighing. “Someone will have to get those dragon hunters down from their tree, and I want Allura to take a look at this.”

Lance smiled in relief, his hand falling away from his shoulder. He then sat up, tugging at the collar of his shirt and peeking in. “I’m healed,” he told her cheerfully. “Want to see?”

Pidge flushed. “I think I’ll take your word for it, Lance,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Suit yourself.” Lance glanced at her. “Your turn now.”

“My—”

Two cool fingertips touching her neck cut her off, the warmth of a healing spell seeping into her skin and soothing the burn. When Lance dropped his arm with a satisfied smirk on his face, Pidge reached up and felt the fresh growth of skin on her neck, her eyes wide.

She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised, not when she now had a direct link to his thoughts.

Then Lance asked, “Wait, what’s this about the village?”

“I need to go there.” Pidge stood up, brushing dirt from her trousers and shirt, then offered Lance a hand. “And since it’s so late, I’ll have to spend the night too.”

“I wish I could fly you,” Lance said, eyes downcast, “but even with the new bond, I don’t have the strength to shift into the dragon.” He took her hand, but after she pulled him to her feet he didn’t let go.

“That’s fine,” Pidge said, though her feet already ached at the thought of the long walk ahead of her. “I’m sorry to cut your visit short.” Her heart sank, and she thought, This is rotten…

Lance tilted his head, an eyebrow quirked. “Visit?” He laughed, a stray thought of I thought she was smarter than this radiating from his mind. “Pidge, you’re stuck with me now.”

“I…what?” Pidge stared at him, confused, but then her heartbeat sped up. “I-I am?”

Lance laughed and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers, making her flush from head to toe. “I’m your familiar now, remember?”

Pidge’s jaw dropped, and she uttered a soft, “Oh.” Then she smiled, so wide she thought her face would ache if she held it for long, and cupped Lance’s cheek with the hand not currently encased in his fingers. “Then I don’t mind being stuck with you after all.”

End

[tumblunni]

Bellsprout...

It.. So fragile...

Thos feets, so little! Its so thin! Its a literal lil noodle! It sways in the wind so much when it walks, its feet dont even move like feet but more like leeches which are my Favourite Worm for how dumb their mannerisms are. Seriously they go up and balance on their tail and periscope around and then they streeeetch and somersault to reach stuff! Theyre like actual living slinkies except they go up the stairs too! Bellsprout's rooty weirdness has that same kind of animation in its walk cycle, but the bizarre speculative idea of a monster made of like four worms all tied to another worm for a torso?? Its just so goofy how itll streeeeetch out the one wiggle foot and periscope it around too even tho it doesnt have eyes so its more like i guess its just very uncertain balancing on its squiggles and uses the roots on the end to detect whether the ground is stable? But then after the slow step of introspection before walking its just like PITCH FORWARD AND BECOME A BICYCLE! rapid flailing legs maximum speed like that basilisk lizard that runs on water! Its like its scared itll pitch forward if it ever stops? And then it does a little balance wiggle at the end and its just so cuuuuuute!

And AAAA its other animations when its not walking too! Its SO FRAGILE!! i want to protect you my baby!! It wiggles in such a cute battle dance cos it struggles to stand upright aaaa! Its head is so big and like all of its organs are in there NO WONDER its so wiggly flop! And its feets and hands are just so weak but it tries so hard!! It must be like a tiny bug landing on your hand or someone thwapping you with a singular taglitelle. And the leafs are even cuter cos theyre animated so..damn.. FRAGILE! everything is so soft in this art style aaaagh its killing me!! "I'm a powerful monster" nooo you are made of hugs and sunshine with the very barest shreds of physical form. But aaaa bellsprout is trying so hard it has so much personality like i wanna support it in being strong and scary and tell it someday it really does become badass and also able to fly for no easily explained reason! But THE LEAFS! OKAY THE LEAFS!! They're so much flatter and thinner than i expected? Like theyre just super generic primary coloured children's show doodles of leafs and the anime never really drew them with a good sense of 3D movement and width and stuff. I dunno if the models in sun and moon really showed a similar thing cos i never used a bellsprout? But i know this art style is just suuuuch a pretty fusion of the realistic shading in Go and the cartoon aesthetic of the main games that i'll wanna catch every pokemon for the first time ever! ITS LEAFS ARE LIKE TISSUE PAPER THIN SOMEONE PROTECT THIS CHILD!!! aaa and the wiggle animation is so cute cos they bend at angles in a sort of S-pattern like waving a fan in fancy style? Or i guess like how you might imagine wings to work if they only had one feather. Bellsprout is such an interesting well executed speculative biology idea and i never even realized before!!

And of course its BIG DOPEY FACE!! seriously its so cute how just adding two dots to a pitcher plant instantly makes it an awkward cute version of a horse head. THEY SOMEHIW MADE A NON SCARY SEVERED HORSE HEAD ON A STRING. I CAN NEVER UNSEE THIS NOW!! And then it has a mouth on the end of the nose and again this sounds terrifying when i put it in words but in actuality its FUCKIN AMAZING GOOFBALL SNOOTBEAN!! Just.. Lil dot eyes and really long face and then a big goofy happy smile at the end and aaaawwwwwww bebby

Oh man now im remembering why i didnt like bellsprout as a kid! I think it was entirely cos its evolutions changed to being just the head and then not having a mouth anymore even. And the grumpy badass eyes instead of bean! Tho as an adult i can appreciate that it must have taken a lot of effort to find a way to badassify such a goofy concept! And i feel proyd of bellsprout growing up to be the apex predator of the jungle who eats tigers n stuff. U go bebby u achieve u dream!! But still the wiggly noodle feets were SO CUTE and the bean eyes were SO CUTE and its a shame theyre the two things that go. Even if it does possibly make sense that the feets are so vestigal if its just a temporary stage before it learns how to fly. I mean birb feet are little? Tho they dont outright lose them when they grow up. Tho a birb that was just a limbless orb with a grumpy face like victreebell would actually be real cute! MAN IM GOING SO OFFTOPIC

Anyway in summary Let's Go has made me appreciate Bellsprout more and i am no longer sad that i cant get oddish in this version. Tho i still find it super cute in this art style TOO and i wish i could hug both the classic plant bebbys! Smoochie smorch u r my cat now and i will feed u all the snacks here is your scratching post and fluffy bed. OH YEAH THAT REMINDS ME did you guys see the drifloon that sleeps in a dog bed in sun and moon?? Its in ilima's house! I like to headcanon that maybe its the ghost of his mom's stoutland in the picture? Cos why would a family of normal type specialists have a drifloon? PRIME GAME THEORY YEAH! oh and the magnemite in a cat bed in one of the hotels i think?? Also Prime Bebby. Please consider all these good friends. And also imagine my super beloved bellsprout who shall be joining them soon! Seriously aaaa i went from neutral opinion on this pokemon to WHY CANT IT BE THE STARTER WHY CANT IT SIT ON MY HEAD within like FIVE SECONDS OF GAMEPLAY FOOTAGE

Godddd im so excited to see more footage of more mons so my heart can explode again and again! Im gonna straight up die from the power of these cuties!

[not-just-any-fangirl]

Flirting With Disaster

A/N: Happy Birthday to @constellunaa! I saw your beautiful drawing of Laxus and Cobra and thought ‘hey what if she actually ships it?’ and then wrote 6.5K of it in hopes that you actually do lmao.

If not, have some hint of nalu bcus I am so sorry

Part of my deaf!Natsu college au bcus I’m a slut for continuing universes! Also shout out to @papalogia for putting up with me yelling about this and for helping with some of the words. Natsu and Cobra are cousins, with Indian!Igneel and his unnamed brother who is Cobra’s dad. 

Also praise @rivendell101 for helping me title it! Apparently I’m useless without my friends :D

College!AU

Pairing: Cobraxus, Nalu, Fairy tail

Words: 6515

Rating: M for language

Part: Oneshot

Laxus wanted to die, and not just because of his pounding headache or the fact that he was in an eight AM lab for fucking chemistry of all things. No, Laxus wanted the sweet embrace of death -or maybe to plead for manslaughter on account of insanity- because of his benchmate.

“Could you please make your stomach make disgusting noises quieter? I’m trying to measure out our chemicals, considering you’re going to be useless today.”

Laxus narrowed his eyes at his labmate, thinking of other uses for the sodium hydroxide solution that was being poured from the erlenmeyer flask to a petri dish.

“Stop looking at me like it’s my fault you decided to do jagerbombs instead of sleeping like a normal human being with an eight AM.”

Laxus scowled. The dude wasn’t even able to see his face, eye on Laxus’ side closed from a nasty looking scar. Laxus felt his own scar over his right eye twinge in sympathy, line thinner than the other boy’s. “How’d you know what I was drinking?” he asked, tongue fuzzy and thick in his mouth and voice rough with disuse. He sounded like his dad, and Laxus wished for another double jager to push back that unwelcome comparison.

“Because you reek of licorice, red bull, and regret.”

Laxus snorted, grinning as he scrawled down the fourth trial’s measurement in his lab notes. “I showered.”

“Don’t feel bad,” the boy drawled, sealing the vacuum box the petri dish now resided in before they turned on the chlorine gas, “it’s a stench that permeates engineering students.”

Laxus frowned, wanting to bite back against the generalization of his major, but flashbacks to the group of twenty somethings doing keg stands and flip cup after their last electrical midterm stopped him. His labmate wasn’t exactly wrong.

But his class had fucking earned going a little wild, especially after the hell that was the four hour midterm of Jose’s quantum nuclear midterm. Laxus was pretty sure that time length wasn’t even allowed by the school board, but seeing as how his grandfather was at a bit of a cold war with the dean, Laxus wasn’t about to say shit.

“Well I’m sure you biology kids know all about the danger of popping illegal prescription pills, don’t you?” he snarked. He had yet to meet one that wasn’t permanently shaking from a near overdose of Adderall, struggling to stay awake to finish making their four hundredth flash card.

“I'm not a biology major,” he said flicking on the highly poisonous gas with the most uncaring expression Laxus has seen on something besides his mirror.

Laxus eyed him critically. “Only biology majors are actually interested in chemistry labs,” he said finally, watching the plastic cube in front of him as the gas reacted with the solution.

“What about chem students?” he asked flatly, switching off the gas lever after the thirty seconds had passed on the stopwatch.

“Those freaks can do this shit in their sleep and try to go and set shit on fire under the fume hoods.” Laxus said just as flatly as his lab partner, focusing on writing down the chemical equations involved in their experiment. “If you aren’t biology then why the hell are you in this lab then?” Laxus asked. He knew why he was there, stupid requirement for his degree saying he need at least a 200 level in each of physics, chem, and bio. Not that Laxus fucking understood why he needed to know how bases and ions reacted to make deadly gases, considering he was going to be an electrical engineer.

Fucking reqs.

The student gave a long suffering sigh, turning his face so Laxus could see his withering look, red-so-dark-it-was-almost-brown hair falling in his face and styled on the sides and back, chin and cheekbones sharp. HIs tan skin was smooth, Laxus fairly certain it was because he could only make two facial expression: blank apathy or an unimpressed sneer. “I’m a toxicology major,” he said, opting for the latter of his whole range of two emotions.

“What the shit is that?” Laxus asked, barking out a laugh before writing the final time when salt crystals stopped forming in their solution.

“It is what it sounds like it would be,” the darker hair boy hissed, opening the cube and retrieving the crystallized solution so they could separate the salt and the bleach.

“It sounds fake,” Laxus snorted, adding a fourth row in the weight of the crystals and the PH of the solution. He must still be drunk to be egging on someone he didn't know, but Laxus really didn't give all that much of a fuck.

“And you still sound drunk,” the boy said coolly. He held out the filtered vial of lab-made bleach. “Here, drink this and it'll disinfect your stomach.”

Laxus blinked at the clear liquid behind the glass before barking a short laugh. “Alright, what's your name for the report.” Lab or human resources to be determined by if his bench mate slipped the chemical into his coffee thermos.

“Cobra,” the boy said, grin sharp in victory at Laxus’ startled expression. “It's similar to my major, don't you think?”

“Still don't know what the fuck toxicology is,” Laxus shrugged, recovering quickly. His cousin’s boyfriend’s name was Natsu and one of her best friend’s Gajeel. At least Cobra was a thing that existed and not a fucking season.

Laxus wrote down the name, frowning at the spot ‘ Freed ’ usually went. His best friend -and ex-boyfriend- unusually absent. Laxus had found out when he sat down from a text from Ever that he was delirious with a fever and needed to be restrained so he couldn't spread it to the rest of the university in his attempt to not miss class. Hence how a late Laxus had ended up with the possible-psychopath as a lab partner.

“It's the study of toxins and poisons you dumbass,” Cobra said flatly. He huffed in irritation before prattling off the volume of the fifth sample of sodium hydroxide. “How did you even pass Biology Two-hundred if you couldn't put together ‘tox-’ and ‘-cology’?”

“By studying for twelve hours and then forgetting everything about that bullshit course.” Laxus said back, defensive. He'd worked hard for that A in the course, and was proud of it.

“Only idiots forget what they've learned,” Cobra hummed, face once more a mix of cocky and blank. How he managed to look bored and superior at the same time was starting to grate on Laxus’ last nerve, though he knew he was one more incident away from academic suspension.

Laxus could really use that shot right now.

At least this was the last trial they needed before he could fuck off and never worry about dealing with Cobra again.

Laxus looked over, taking in an appreciative view. Laxus may be stoic and rough around the edges but he wasn't blind. Cobra was hot , with rich brown skin and spiky hair and two bars in his right ear. His personality might have been garbage, but that'd never stopped Laxus from being able to appreciate someone's aesthetic.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Cobra said, corner of his mouth twitching at his own joke. Laxus remained unfazed, expecting to be caught and uncaring.

“How'd you get your scar?”

“How'd you get yours?” Cobra sneered, flicking on the gas switch and recording the pressure and flow rate of the gas as shown on the display connected to the nozzle.

“Fair,” Laxus hummed. “What's your number?”

“What the fuck? ” Cobra spat, eye large as he whipped his head to look at Laxus. He thought the boy's cheeks might have been a little darker, but he couldn't really tell. The thought made him preen in victory though, that he had gotten the upper hand.

“For the lab report? In case our data doesn't line up?”

Cobra grunted, looking back at the chamber as the reaction took place. “Whatever.”

Laxus blinked when at the end of the lab there was a torn off corner of paper shoved in his notebook, ten digits scrawled across it in sharp handwriting. He shook his head with a rueful smile, typing in the numbers to his contacts under the name ‘Snake Boi’.

Why was everyone he interacted with so fucking weird.

Laxus woke up, sitting straight up in his small single bed that came with his dorm room, staring unseeing into the dark.

“I fucking hit on him.” Laxus whispered to himself.

And Cobra gave him his number .

He jerked the cord from his phone where it had been charging on his bed side table, barely registering the time of 3:47 fucking AM as he blinds himself with the full brightness. Cursing, Laxus adjusted the screen to barely painful before typing a message to Freed. Laxus was smart with books, but interactions with other human beings was a thing Laxus liked to avoid at the best of times. And now he was texting his ex about the possibility of him hitting on some random dude. And succeeding.

Me - 3:47 AM: So uh I asked a guy for his number for a lab cus you have the fucking plague and looking back i think i flirted with him and i think i hit on him and now i have his number uhhhh what the actual fuck is this?? Was I actually hitting on him?? Did he hit back??

Me - 3:48 AM: is hit back the right term?

Me - 3:48 AM: I don’t think it is but I’m going to use it anyway bc fuck english

Laxus flopped back on his pillow, rubbing his scar. Fucking emotions. Did Laxus even want to have been hitting on Cobra? He thought about his fuller bottom lip and the twinkle of mischief in his eye when he was telling Laxus to drink bleach and the way his cologne smelt like the riverside and musk and his stupidly spiky hair that Laxus wanted to fuck up just to see that small fire light his dark eye.

Ah fuck, Laxus wanted to hit on him.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and Laxus blinked in surprise at Freed still being awake. Or maybe he had woken him up. Either way, Laxus wasn’t about to complain about getting some damned advice.

Freed (Sword Emoji) - 3:50 AM: Yes, babe. You were hitting on him. It’s okay, it took you four dates to realize we were dating.

Freed (Sword Emoji) - 3:51 AM: Two weeks to realize we broke up.

Me - 3:52 AM: I’m beginning to realize why you wanted couples therapy

Freed (Sword Emoji) - 3:55 AM: It’s okay babe, I still love you. Now go get laid please, you’re insufferable when horny and have a crush.

Laxus snorted. He wasn’t insufferable , if anyone was insufferable in their group it was Ever and at all times. Insufferable. Ha.

Wait.

Did Freed mean right now? Wouldn’t that be uncouth, as Freed would put it? Did he want a booty call? Or did Laxus want more? Laxus didn’t know what the fuck he wanted to eat most of the time how in all holy hell was he supposed to work out stupid things like feelings .

Ugh.

Me - 4:00 AM: Like... now? Cause its 4 am and idk if hes up. I mean, hes a fucking chem/posion/fuck knows major so probs but wouldn’t it be rude? To start a date with a booty call? I feel like asking for sex this early would be rude

Me - 4:00 AM: both time of day and in regards to a possible relationship

Laxus stared up at his ceiling, eyes barely able to make out the rock poster above his head from the brightness of staring at his phone screen. Him and Bixlow were supposed to be going to the Thunder Claps next saturday and Laxus was looking forward to getting stoned and zoning out to some good rock EDM for a couple hours with one of his best friends so-fucking-much. He startled out of his thoughts at the dark phone buzzing on his chest, screen lighting up with Freed’s text.

Freed (Sword Emoji) - 4:05 AM: I love you, but how you manage to keep your stupidity secret from everyone we know I’ll never comprehend.

Freed (Sword Emoji) - 4:06 AM: No do not text him for a booty call at four am.

Freed (Sword Emoji) - 4:06 AM: You animal.

Me - 4:09 AM: Ohhh, like later today okay i get you

Laxus rolls over, groaning into his pillow. He turned his head, typing another message.

Me - 4:13 AM: Can’t we just date again that was a good thing

Freed (Sword Emoji) - 4:07 AM: No darling. We tried that before and while the sex was amazing you were frankly a horrible boyfriend. But you have grown and I have full confidence in you not fucking this new one up horribly.

Laxus grinned at his phone, rolling his eyes before typing out a quick ‘gee thanks’ and clicking off his phone.

Ah fuck what the shit was he going to say to Cobra?

Laxus adjusted the strap on his shoulder as he exited the math building, three stories tall and made entirely of brick that was probably twenty years old when it was built fifty years ago. He groaned as he rubbed his neck, thankful that he was finally done his last class of the day. How Natsu had gotten into his fourth year electrical physics course Laxus had absolutely no fucking clue, and how that fuckhead had gotten a better grade than him on the last assignment was even more astounding.

Thinking of annoying chemistry majors, Laxus’s pocket burned where his phone rested and the uncontacted number that Laxus felt judging him. He could actually hear Cobra’s snarky voice calling him a pussy in his head, scowling as he continued to walk along the cracked sidewalk.

“Angel I swear to every fucking god in existence if you tell anyone -”

Oh shit, Laxus was really hearing Cobra’s voice.

He looked up, spotting Cobra standing beside a bust of some old dead dude that had helped found math or whatever, a pretty woman with long silver hair pinching his cheek with an almost cruel smile. “That our little snakey has a crush ?” she sang. Cobra’s shoulders tensed, and Laxus leaned against the bust five feet away, curious to see where the fuck this was going to go.

“I talked to the bastard once ,” Cobra snapped, swatting away Angel’s hand. The girl smirked as if Cobra had just told a joke, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers.

“Uh huh, and that’s why you’ve kept your hand on your phone all day. ‘Cus you two ‘talked’ once.” Cobra sputtered, Laxus watching the side of his face twist in a flustered sneer. “Tell me, was he tall and muscular? You always were too easy for the masc types.”

Laxus snorted, covering it with a cough but too late not to draw Angel’s attention, and by extension, Cobra’s. The girl’s face lit up like it was fucking Christmas and Cobra looked like he wished he still had that bleach.

“Awwww you two match face scars!” she cooed, clapping her hands together once in excitement.

“You say another word and I’ll put Kerberos in your fucking bed.”

Angel pouted at Cobra before huffing and flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Whatever, spoil my fun as usual, Erik ,” Cobra -or should Laxus say Erik?- glared at her sharply but Angel carried on, paying his threat display absolutely no attention, “I’m off to make sure Midnight didn’t die in their sleep in whatever nook they’ve found now.”

Laxus returned her small nod as she passed, lifting an eyebrow at her sniff as she looked him over again. He thought it might have been a silent ‘my friend could do better than you’ and judging by the RBF she had Laxus was pretty sure he was right.

Cobra was silent as he glared at Laxus, a new expression painted on his face; pure and clear murder.

“I don’t know what fucking game you’re playing but I’m over it and-”

Laxus interrupted the rant Cobra was spitting at him, looking over his worn but polished combat boots and torn black jeans that were tight enough on his thighs to leave Laxus with no need to imagine how muscular he was, tight black tank top with a deep purple snake skull partially covered by leather jacket that had deep red accented strips of leather along the arms and two over the breasts, dark black studs on the shoulders and back of the arms from what Laxus could see, band patches thrown over the pockets and back as a visual record of all his concerts. Laxus finally eyed the thick black collar with large and shallow spikes on it before meeting Cobra’s pissed-off glare.

“I’m going to the Thunder Claps concert next weekend. Judging by the Poison Blood sticker you got on your ass there I’d say you’re in need of being taken to a concert with good music playing.”

Cobra choked on his words, staring at Laxus blankly before barking a sharp laugh. He drew his pointed gaze over Laxus’s own slides, ripped jeans, loose work out tank, and the large bright yellow headphones that hung around his neck.

“I highly doubt you’d be able to have any taste in music if you insist on dressing like a fucking gym rat, but I won’t turn down free shots and concert tickets,” Cobra smirked at him, grin sharp as he insulted him. Laxus grinned back. Flirting was fun when you got to rip into the person.

“Who said I’d pay for your drinks?”

“The way you can’t take your perverted eyes off me would be a damned good hint that all I have to do is touch your dick and have you wrapped around my little finger.”

“Aw, that’s not a very nice thing to call your dick. I’m sure it’s at least three inches.”

Cobra sneered at him, stepping closer as fire danced in his eye, obviously delighted at the challenge. “Two inches longer than yours.”

“You wanna find out or something? Laxus asked, tipping his head down as he towered over Cobra by a good four inches, stepping forward as well.

“You that desperate to get fucked?” he asked, meeting Laxus’ gaze and holding his own, unperturbed by Laxus’ height.

“ You that desperate to get your face pinned against a wall?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Cobra smirked, thumbs hooked in his belt loops and leaning further into Laxus’ space, looking up at him through thick lashes and a promise of danger and battle of wills in his dark gaze.

“Yeah, I think I fucking would,” Laxus said, unashamed. His smirk widened when Cobra’s faltered and his cheeks got distinctly darker as he blinked up at Laxus, the blond man’s confidence sure enough at this point that he hooked his pointer through one of Cobra’s unfilled belt hoops and pulled his crotch closer so that it brushed against Laxus’. “Wha'dya say, Erik?” Laxus breathed against the shorter man’s lips, noses almost touching.

“Call me that again and I’ll strangle you in your sleep, shithead,” Cobra hissed, not pulling away from him as his eye darted to Laxus’ lips and then back up. Laxus swallowed roughly at the challenge that sparked in his sharp grin as he reached up with both hands and yanked on Laxus’ headphones so that their foreheads touched. “Now why don’t you show me your tiny ass dorm. I ain’t getting my sheets fucked up for a douchebag like you.”

“Ain’t you full of romance?” Laxus snorted, brushing his nose against Cobra’s and barely speaking above a whisper.

“One of us is about to be full of something and I was never big on the flowers and chocolates crap.” Cobra said back, chin tilting up slightly to brush his top lip against Laxus’ lower one.

“Good to know,” Laxus grinned, pulling back before he could actually kiss Cobra. He readjusted the strap on his shoulder again, nodding with his head in the direction of his dorm.

Cobra looked at him like he was a lab report that wasn’t making sense - a thing that Laxus interpreted as baffled and irritated and determined to understand- before nodding and walking towards where Laxus had nodded.They walked in silence, Laxus’ hand twitching each time he almost grazed Cobra’s. It felt wrong to just walk apart considering what they had planned, or at least insinuated, but Laxus had zero fucking clue how to make the first move. Especially because Cobra apparently wasn’t into that. The minutes passed awkwardly as Laxus considered just fucking texting Freed about what to do but also not thinking that texting his ex-boyfriend would be good hook up etiquette. Was this a hook up? Was this all that was? Cobra had said yes -kind of- to the concert and oh fuck Laxus had asked him out on a date without realizing it-

And Cobra said yes again.

They were halfway to his dorm, just passing the English building his cousin Lucy was probably still in working on her seventh draft of her creative writing piece, and her stupid boyfriend probably draped over her like a god damn blanket -how was that for romantic, as if Cobra would ever let Laxus do that to him- when Cobra moved and startled Laxus from his thoughts.

“You’re useless at shit like this aren’t you?” Cobra sighed. He kept looking ahead as he grabbed Laxus’ arm and slung it over his own shoulders. “I could basically hear you thinking about holding my hand. Better?”

Laxus swallowed thickly, grunting an affirmative as his face heated at being caught. He glared at a flock of geese under a tree to their right, channeling his anger into the birds resting in the shade on the warm fall afternoon.

What the fuck had Laxus’ gotten himself into?

“What do you mean you haven’t kissed besides when you fuck ?” Lucy gaped at him, dumbfounded as she gathered her own nine dollar strawberry cooler and Natsu’s four dollar beer, Laxus both thankful and irritated that he had run into his cousin and her dumbass boyfriend at the concert. Bixlow hadn’t been the happiest to give up his ticket, but had been placated by Freed reading aloud first Laxus’ panicked four AM text messages and then his even more panicked nine PM text messages about having just gotten laid before going on an actual date.

Fuck, all of his friends were massive dicks. No wonder he was dating Cobra.

Well, kind of dating Cobra.

“Listen I don’t need to be lectured about relationships by someone who brought their deaf   boyfriend to a fucking concert.” Laxus frowned, careful of the shitty vender beer cups so that he wouldn’t crush them by accident in his annoyance.

“One,” Lucy huffed, half running to keep up with him through the crowd, “ Natsu dragged me here. He likes to be part of the chaos of the crowd and to feel the bass bump through him or whatever. And two, we are still on the topic of you and your inability to have a relationship like a normal human being.”

Laxus rolled his eyes as they walked to where Natsu and Cobra were standing by one of the entrances into the stadium, hands moving quickly and in agitation as they signed to one another.

Laxus couldn’t fucking believe that Lucy was dating his maybe-boyfriend’s cousin.

“You fucking dick, you know I can’t understand ISL!” Natsu roared, throwing his hands above his head, voice loud enough to draw passing glances from a few people entering the large arena.

“Not my fault you don’t know your own heritage,” Cobra sneered, following it with something that Laxus could extrapolate was an insult by the sneer of his lips despite not understanding the other language. “ Ullu de pathe.”

“I can read Hindi on lips,” Natsu hissed. Lucy smiled as she moved the beer in front of his face, Natsu blinking at the sudden liquid blocking his view of Cobra. He smiled down at her, lip ring shifting as it was pulled. Lucy signed a quick hello, her hand flat as she did something that Laxus thought looked like a short and relaxed salute, quickly dropping her hand with her pointer and middle finger intended in a weird peace sign and flicking her lower lip with her middle finger twice.

Natsu grinned and rolled his eyes, Laxus lost at what the gesture meant. He had managed to learn a few swears and the alphabet, but otherwise relied on Natsu’s ability to read lips and speak when interacting with him. He’d offered to take better notes for Natsu in their class, but the stubborn bastard had refused and instead relied on a voice to text app on his phone as he took his own notes from the board.

Cobra signed something, the only sign Laxus caught making him grin at the end; Cobra flicking his hand from under his chin and out with his palm facing towards himself.

“I ain’t a bitch you fucking emo furry.” Natsu spat.

“Just because I respect and collect snakes doesn’t mean I want to fuck them,” Cobra snarled, “and at least I’m passionate about animals that actually exist, dragon boy .” Cobra held his hand so his fingers were splayed, wiggling the three middle fingers as he moved it from his chin outwards, palm facing down this time. “I don’t even know how we’re related, even your fucking hair is off brand! What kinda genetic fuck-up gets pink hair?”

“I like his hair,” Lucy defended. Laxus groaned loudly, throwing his arm around Cobra’s shoulders.

“We're gonna go somewhere else now,” Laxus said to Lucy, nodding at Natsu as he led Cobra away from his own cousin. They moved through the crowd, Cobra fitting nicely under Laxus’ arm as they walked. They entered the stadium, filing their way to the ground level where they would be standing for the show, Laxus letting Cobra stew as he learned the other man liked to do.

“That useless little jackass follows me everywhere,” Cobra hissed. Laxus looked at him from the corner of his eye, debating if he wanted to get into family dynamics right now. Considering how Natsu was more likely to become family than Cobra though...

Laxus swore internally before speaking against his better judgement.

“Technically they decided to come here before you,” Laxus said, not looking at Cobra. He felt him stiffen under his arm, but didn’t pull away.

“Whatever,” Cobra spat, taking a long sip of his beer. Laxus grunted, content with listening to the crowd around them mill between one of the opening acts and Thunder Claps. Two girls were standing by them, talking loudly with flower crowns in their hair and neon bras under white netted tops, one tucked into her short jean shorts and the other hanging down to her mid thigh and touching the top of her thin stockings, her own shorts barely visible under the netted fabric.

Laxus didn’t think he’d have noticed if it weren’t for Cobra tensing again under his arm and leading them away from the girls.

“I know you’re a big fan of my dick but I didn’t peg ya as needing to avoid an entire gender.” Laxus commented, taking a sip of his own drink as he waited for Cobra to speak.

“Their voices were irritating me,” Cobra said flatly, lips turned down slightly in his neutral expression. Normally when Laxus wore that look as his own neutral expression people said he looked liked he was plotting murder, when in reality he just thinking of dumb shit. Laxus was pretty sure Cobra was definitely plotting to murder someone, though. Laxus thought there might have been more to it than what Cobra was telling him but decided to drop it. Freed had been very adamant about not pissing off his date when at a social event.

Cobra took out his phone as Laxus glared at a boy that was staring a little too intently at Cobra’s biceps, revealed by his ripped sleeve tank top. The boy scurried off as Cobra slipped his phone back into the back pocket of his tight jeans. Jeans that Laxus knew for a fact Cobra was wearing because he was aware how tight they were on his ass and Laxus’ appreciation of it.

“Natsu and Lucy will down here in a second and if you say anything about it I will bite your dick off tonight.”

Laxus blinked once before nodding. He pulled Cobra closer to him when the other man downed his drink in a way that the other engineering students would cheer on, and made Laxus respect him just a little bit more.

Natsu and Lucy appeared again like Cobra said, Natsu sending a wary glance at Cobra before smiling brightly. Laxus huffed and sipped his beer as he scanned the crowd again. Natsu didn’t have a fucking single grudge-holding bone in his body when it came to abuse against himself. Laxus also wondered how the pink-haired pyro freak and Cobra were related, though for different reasons.

Laxus noticed Lucy lean towards him and Cobra, Natsu’s attention on the stage as the stagehands brought out the equipment and instruments for Thunder Claps. “If you do anything to ruin this concert for Natsu I will find out where you live and do something so horrible and scarring you’ll never be able to sleep again.” Lucy said sweetly, not bothering to lower her voice as the back of her head was to Natsu. She smiled once, lips pulled up sharply and eyes cold enough to make Laxus’ heart skip a beat like the time he thought he had missed a final. He took another sip of his drink, already half done but choosing to pretend he hadn’t just witnessed his cousin promising to maim another student in a huge crowd. His one law course taught him nothing if not plausible deniability.

He snuck a glance at Cobra’s face, somehow surprised and not at the bright grin pulling up one corner of his mouth.

“I like her.” Cobra said, looking around the crowd as well. Laxus shook his head, offering the rest of his beer to Cobra. “Well isn’t someone trying to get me drunk.”

“You’re much easier to top when you’re already a little fucked up,” Laxus grinned down at him. Cobra snorted, drinking Laxus’ beer and twisting his lips into a sneer, retort lost in his disgust.

“Thought an alcoholic like you would at least know how to drink good beer,” Cobra drawled.

“If you don’t like it I’ll definitely be needing it to deal with you all night,” Laxus said, raising an eyebrow at Cobra. He rolled his eye, taking another large sip with a grimace.

“I’m a fucking delight.”

Laxus snorted loudly, grinning at Cobra’s flat glare.

The crowd began cheering as people in ripped jeans and wearing over a dozen glow stick pieces of jewelry began filing onto the stage, the lights dimming and the crowd enveloping them so there was no place that Laxus wasn’t being touched by slightly sweaty and glitter covered bodies. Cobra glared, hiding deeper under Laxus’ arm and away from the chance of anything too sparkly and happy touching him. “Why’d you agree if concerts ain’t your thing?” Laxus purred, leaning down so his lips brushed his ear.

“I like concerts ,” Cobra hissed back, turning his head so his lips almost brushed Laxus’, “I don’t like raves.”

“This isn’t even close to rave. I’d be on way more drugs if this was a rave ,” Laxus murmured back, distracted by Lucy’s lecture in the back of his head about normal relationships. Heat from where Cobra was pressed against his side and under his arm scorched him, Laxus’ brain focusing on Cobra’s lips and how the top one was thinner than the bottom, a slight dimple under the left corner of his lip where a lip piercing might have once been. Laxus’ throat grew dry at the thought of seeing the silver against his warm-toned skin.

Laxus lifted his gaze to meet Cobra’s, a dark, unreadable expression piercing him.

“Maybe you just wanted to be here with me,” he said, leaning forward slightly so his nose brushed Cobra’s. A slight grin lifted the corner of Cobra’s mouth, a mocking glint flashing in his eye that made Laxus smirk in turn. Whatever Cobra was about to say was lost as the DJ of the band made the bass drop and the crowd went wild, jumping and thrumming around them. Cobra got jostled, shoving him towards Laxus, his forehead pressing into his lips. Laxus glared at the clearly drunk girl who had shoved Cobra and ruined whatever the fuck Laxus had been trying to do.

Laxus grinned when he heard Cobra swear under his breath, pleased that he wasn’t happy about it either. Deciding that a EDM concert probably wasn’t the best place to figure out what the shit was going on between them, Laxus turned his attention to the stage and lost himself in the performance. He sang along with the next few songs, moving with the crowd, bouncing on the balls of his feet and losing himself to the pounding that resonated with his bones and overrode his own heartbeat in his blood.

Cobra shifted slightly in front of him when Lucy and Natsu got crushed to his side, rolling his eye less sarcastically than Laxus expected at Lucy’s mouthed apology. Laxus grinned at the opportunity to both touch and embarrass him, grabbing his hips and pulling him against Laxus’ chest, dancing behind him as one song bled into another, the crowd going wild at the new mix.

Cobra stilled at first, looking over his shoulder with a sharp glare that made Laxus’ smirk grow larger as he rolled his hips against Cobra’s ass. His cheeks looked darker when a strobe light rolled over his face, bathing him in purple light and a voice in the back of Laxus’ mind compared him to what a god of contempt and poison might look like. Thoughts of how fucking whipped he was were forced out of his mind as Cobra gave him a dangerous smile before turning his head back to the stage and crushing his ass into Laxus with a lewd and rough roll. Laxus cursed through a grin, fingers digging into Cobra’s hips, thumbs slipping under the hem of his shirt and moving over the taut skin of his hip bones and stomach.

More songs passed like that, Cobra and Laxus working up a heavy sweat grinding and rutting against one another in the sweltering heat created by a crowd full of young adults doing the same. Laxus pointedly ignored his baby cousin going even harder against Natsu than Cobra was to him, Natsu’s sweaty forehead connected to her jaw as he sucked at her neck, one hand flat on her stomach as he guided her in deep rolls against him in what Laxus was almost disgusted to note was practiced movements.

He didn’t know how well Natsu would understand a ‘touch her and I’ll castrate you’ without being able to hear Laxus’ tone but he was hoping he’d be able to convey the right amount of ‘I could kill you with you hand’ in his eyes when he cornered the pink haired brat after the show.

He was thankful to see Lucy stop trying to ride Natsu’s dick through their clothes, shrieking with joy when Natsu stooped low and put her on his shoulders. She gripped his hair as he stood again, bare thighs clenching around his head and his own hands gripping into her pale skin tightly. Laxus was stopped from straight up decking Natsu for putting his face so close to parts of Lucy Laxus would rather fucking claw his eyes out with a rusty spoon than think about when he noticed Natsu looking up at Lucy. His eyes were soft, fondness almost palpable in an aura around them as they met each other's gazes. Lucy beamed as she smiled down at him, braid messed and slung over one shoulder and glitter paint smeared over her cheek and bare shoulders. Natsu’s smile was lopsided, the couple completely separated from the music and crowd around them as Lucy leaned down, sealing her lips against his sweetly. She pulled back slightly, giggling as Natsu rubbed his nose along hers and they got lost in each others eyes again.

Laxus let his gaze drift to Cobra, an unfamiliar ache in his chest making him frown at the spiked hair in front of him.

“Put me on your shoulders and I’ll create a mosh pit,” Cobra said, serious and flat as he looked over his shoulder at Laxus again. The blond smirked, nodding and forcing his attention back on the stage. He frowned down at Cobra when he stopped dancing against him. He cocked his head at Cobra’s searching scowl, unsure of what was going through his head. "Fuck it,” he grunted, confusion making Laxus knit his eyebrows at Cobra’s low grunt. He froze for a second, Cobra twisting fully in his arms and threading his fingers into the short hairs at the base of Laxus’ neck. He grunted as Cobra slammed his mouth to his, rough and a little awkward as he leaned up into Laxus.

The music dulled in his ears, arms winding around Cobra and pulling him flush against his chest. Their lips slated against one another's easily as the kiss drew on, Cobra’s short nails digging greedily into the back of Laxus’ neck and fisting at his short hair. Laxus nipped at Cobra’s lower lip, opening his mouth at Cobra’s demanding swipe of his tongue along Laxus’ lips.

His hand dropped to push into the back pocket of Cobra’s jeans, squeezing harshly and pulling his body flush to Laxus’ again. Cobra broke the kiss, grinning up at him hungrily and with lewd joy dancing in his eye. Laxus squeezed again, returning the dark smirk. Cobra chuckled under his breath before kissing Laxus softly once, returning to demanding and impatient kisses as if to cover up the almost tender action. Neither said anything, resuming dancing and losing themselves in the atmosphere of the show and trying to one-up one another.

Laxus figured Cobra liked having a boyfriend that wasn’t afraid of a little friendly competition.

His hand released Laxus’ hair, sliding between their bodies and roughly groping at the front of Laxus’ pants. Cobra smirked against his mouth when he grunted at the unexpected touch. His self-pleased grin fell when Laxus pulled his hand from Cobra’s pocket and instead ran along the center seam of his jeans, fingers pressing firmly and rubbing at him there. Laxus looked at Cobra through his lashes, pleased to see Cobra’s deep scowl and to feel his face warm in the lack of space between them.

Okay, so maybe a little less-than-friendly competition.

Not that Laxus was complaining.

[prepare4trouble]

Star Wars Rebels fanfic - In One Piece

So, completely independently of each other, @pomrania and I both decided to fill the same prompt from @swrrequests.  Shouldn’t be surprising, given the subject matter, if you’ve read our Little By Little AU.

Anyway, the prompt was as follows:

“I have seen plenty of AU prompts regarding Ezra being blinded by Maul instead, or by another thing, or Ezra giving up his sight for Kanan. But how about this: Kanan still gets blinded by Maul and Ezra gets his eyes scorched by the burst of energy from the sith holocron. Two blind jedi can’t be good for the rebellion.”

This is actually set in a future in which this happened, rather than at the time.

The war was over, and they had won.  Sabine still couldn’t quite believe it; they had been fighting for so long that it felt like it was all they would ever do.  It was strange trying to get used to feeling safe again.  It was strange too not to have anything to fight against.

Like many Mandalorians, she just wasn’t built for peacetime.

Still, she had to admit that it was good to be able to relax.  Really relax, not just have a moment of downtime before the next battle.  She glanced over at her two companions.  Kanan’s eyes were covered by his mask; slightly battle damaged now, but the same one that she had painted for him all those years ago on Atollon.  Ezra didn’t cover his eyes.  She still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened to him, he didn’t like to talk about it, but the energy burst that had damaged his eyes had left him enough vision to differentiate light from dark.  On good days, he could make out shapes.  Or so he claimed, anyway.  He liked to take advantage of that.

She wasn’t sure which would be worse; to lose your sight completely, or to be left with that constant reminder of what you no longer had.

She wondered whether it was something that had ever spoken about.  Probably not.  Getting into a ‘who has it worse’ competition wasn’t either of their styles.

Well, maybe back when it had happened; things had been very different then.

It didn’t matter, anyway.  Not any more.  What was done was done, and nothing could change it.  They had both moved on, adapted, they were both okay.  It was Sabine, who hadn’t even been there, who found herself constantly dwelling in those moments.

Her hand stilled, pencil hovering above the page of her sketch pad.  The rough outline of Kanan on the page held enough detail for her to finish later, even if he moved.  When Hera and Zeb finally emerged from the Ghost with the picnic, she would be able to show it to somebody who could actually appreciate it, because as good as Kanan and Ezra were at feigning interest in her art, she knew they couldn’t really appreciate it, not any more.

“Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you guys had gotten back from Malachor in one piece?” she asked, voicing the thought in her head without having really intended to.

Ezra turned in her direction.  He didn’t open his eyes, but he did raise an eyebrow.  “Two pieces,”  he corrected.  “We’re not the same person you know, we just happen to be pretty similar.”

Sabine sighed.  “Yeah, yeah.  You know I didn’t even slightly mean that.”

The three of them were sitting on the grass, basking in the sunshine on some planet whose name she had already forgotten.  The ground was hard and dry, but the grass was soft, and the sun was just warm enough to be pleasant.  The Ghost was parked unobtrusively nearby.

Ezra shrugged.  “Yeah, I know.”  He grinned at his own not funny joke.  “I was in one piece though.  I mean, one slightly damaged piece, but still.”  He shrugged, and the grin widened.  “Kanan too, unless you guys forgot to tell me something.”

“You’re not funny.”  She grinned back, despite herself.  There had been a time when she had thought she would never see him smile again.  Either of them, actually.  There had been a time when she had thought she was going to lose them completely.  “You know what I mean,” she insisted.  “Do you ever wonder if things would have turned out differently?”

“No,” Kanan told her.  He was sitting a little further away, in a narrow slice of shade cast by a single tree.  Sabine’s hand began to sketch again, as he spoke.  “What would be the point?  We won.  If things had been different then, they might have been different now.  One little change could have had far-reaching consequences, and nobody would want that.”

“Different doesn’t mean worse, you know,” Sabine told him.  “Who knows, we might have won sooner.”

Ezra shook his head.  “Great, thanks for that, Sabine.  You really know how to make a guy feel good.  If I’d been more careful that one mission, the war would’ve been over years ago.”

Sabine rolled her eyes.  She pulled up a fistful of grass and threw it in Ezra’s direction.  It drifted down like snowflakes around him.  He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it away.

“Actually, thanks.  It was a pretty good compliment.  I didn’t know you thought I was that important.”

He was probably right.  Or Kanan was, and a change then would have meant a vastly different — and possibly worse — outcome today.  “You don’t miss it then?  Seeing, I mean.  You don’t wish…” She tailed off, unable to finish.

“I miss it,” Ezra told her, after a long pause.  There was a wistful quality to his tone, and she wondered what sight he was remembering.  She glanced over at Kanan, but the expression on his face was unreadable under his mask.  He missed it too; how could he not?

“I think I’d risk it,” she said.  “Even if we didn’t know what would have happened, I think it’d be worth finding out.”

Two sets of unseeing eyes turned in her direction, one painted on a mask, one closed against the glare of the sun.  “What do you mean?” Kanan asked her.

Sabine shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny.  “I just mean, if I could change what happened, I would.  Whatever it meant, I think the trade’d be worth it.  Don’t you?”

“No,” Kanan said, simply.

Ezra shrugged.  “Yeah, sorry Sabine.  I’m with Kanan on this one.  I’m not saying I’d turn down a miracle cure if one showed up.  I’d chase that to the other end of the galaxy and back.  But changing the past?  No.  I’m pretty happy with how things turned out.”

She sighed, and added the finishing touches to her sketch.  It was good that they were both okay, but she couldn’t help but remember the moment they had walked out of the Phantom together, Ezra holding on to Chopper and apparently trying to keep Kanan upright, a hastily applied bandage tied around the ruin of Kanan’s eyes, as they stumbled out onto the base.

She hadn’t realized at first that Ezra couldn’t see either.  She didn’t think that anybody did.  Kanan had been obvious, but she had taken Ezra’s hand on Chopper’s antenna to be for support, not guidance.  She had taken the hesitancy in his steps for care as he helped Kanan.  He had looked okay, his eyes the same vibrant shade of blue they had been when they had departed for that hell-planet.  The truth had dawned on her slowly, she had noticed how he didn’t look at them, how he didn’t look at anything; how his eyes darted around him as though desperately searching for something to see.

He had just looked so lost, so small and so afraid.  For the rest of her life, that memory would remain fresh in her mind.

A not-quite laugh from Ezra’s direction pulled her out of the memory.  “Hey, Kanan,” he said.  “Remember when you figured out I couldn’t see either?”

Sabine turned to look at her two Jedi, half fascinated, half horrified.  She had never considered that before.

Kanan smiled, but it was tight and strained.  “Sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine, you were in a lot of pain, you barely even noticed we’d left the planet.  I couldn’t really have expected you to notice that.”  He turned to face Sabine.  “He kept asking me how bad it looked.”

“And you kept dodging the question,” Kanan added.

“Hey, I was freaking out.  The last thing I wanted to do was say it out loud.  That makes things real, you know.”

Ezra was still smiling.  Sabine didn’t understand how that was possible.

“Remember when Hera worked out what had happened?” Kanan asked.

“Oh, yeah.”  Ezra laughed again.  “Poor Hera.  Honestly, if there was one thing I wish I could have seen in the past few years, it’s the look on her face right then.  Can you imagine it?”

Kanan nodded.  “I don’t think it would have been very funny, though,” he said.

“Well, not at the time.  Now though.  Even she laughs about it now.”

“I don’t think that’s laughter,” Kanan told him.

“Well, maybe not technically, but…”

Sabine sighed loudly.  She turned a page in her book and began to work on a sketch of Kanan and Ezra at each other’s throats while she and the rest of the crew watched and placed bets.  If she did a larger painted version, it would look great on Kanan’s wall.  Or maybe Ezra’s, that way at least Zeb would be able to enjoy it.

“You guys are ridiculous, you know that, right?” she asked them.  She couldn’t shake the feeling that Ezra had started the whole thing just to change the subject.  It didn’t matter, they were still ridiculous.  Once, as a kid, she had been taught that the Jedi were dignified warriors.  They were considered to be the enemy, but one held in a grudging esteem.  The reality was very different.  That wasn’t a bad thing, far from it.  It was still ridiculous.

“Thanks,” Ezra told her.  He turned back to the sun and sighed contentedly.  “We try our best.”

The last of the light (next fic)

[obscuraxrp]

The smoke settles to reveal LEE YEONG, a 31 year old rakshasa-blooded of Sunseong. He is a gardener & sewing specialist who appears to be adept in shapeshifting and contaminant immunity --- but like most things in Sunseong, there must be more to him than meets the eye.

FACECLAIM: Jung Taekwoon (Leo), VIXX

APPEARANCE:

Due to Lee Yeong’s weak control over his beastly form, the left side of his face shows some distinct features attributed to his Rakshasa heritage. The side of his face shows scarring (left by an alpha wolf), running from the bridge of his nose, across his high cheekbone and ending in the middle of a fleshy cheek. His left eye is completely white with tiny silver and golden specks. The hungrier for human flesh Yeong gets, the more golden those specks twinkle. They will slowly swallow the silver specks until the hunger is sated. When no silver specks are left, it is only a matter of time before Yeong loses his humanity to his beastly nature. The tips of his left sideburns are distinctly blue, indicative of his vibrantly blue fur. In full beast form, Yeong resembles his father Rakshasa (though his bulk and size is similar to this). In human-like form, Yeong is quite tall (almost 6ft) but his true, beastly form towers over any ordinary being – up to 7ft. His limbs will then be twice as thick as any human’s and his eyes will glow. In human form, Yeong’s hair is light brown but quite unruly.

BIOGRAPHY:

Your first memory is of darkness and cold. Then, yellow eyes and a threatening yet curious growl. They’re not your parents but you make due. At first, you’re just as small as they are, and just as hairy. Where they are raven-haired, you own a beautiful coat of blue fur but this is just a minor detail and easily overlooked. You have canines after all,just like them. Then your fangs grow and not even your teeth are similar now. It doesn’t bother them, however, and they continue to raise the beast-blooded babe who is now a toddler on unstable hindlegs. You grow an additional set of limbs that they don’t have when you finally find yourself steady on all fours but you refuse to feel embarrassed about it.

When you shift to human form for the first time, they do not flinch or attack. They had always smelled it on you; the scent of a foreign being, odd yet innocent. They had accepted you regardless of the smells you brought and the strange skin you inhabit. But you feel a sense of loss you cannot communicate, not even when you grow and you are no longer smaller than they are. While as a child you were just as big, you are now a giant among your kin. And they are faster than you, more agile and so in sync with their beastly nature that leaves you envying and wishing for your blue fur to turn black and your silver eyes to turn yellow and your bones to rearrange so you can be just as small.

At least you cannot speak, just like them, and you communicate with growls, barks, chirps and whines that will always extend more meaning than speech ever could. Not that you know what speaking entails. You howl when it is dark and you are silent when it is light. But you also hiss, snarl, grunt, puff, purr and roar and they do not understand why. Their eyes flash dangerously, a ripple shakes their fur and shudders their forms as they bare their teeth to you for a second time. You stop communicating your unnatural sounds because they fall on deaf ears.

You find out you can climb trees and it amazes you at first, until you realise that your brothers can’t follow. With your tail between your legs, you come down and accept the ferocious, preaching bite at your nape because you deserved it for scaring the little ones. The next time you find yourself in a tree, you are scared. You do not understand the expressions on the long, hairless and skinny beings with funny faces but you recognise the visage of anger and disdain. Alpha often wears the same expression. You flee as they chase and it doesn’t matter how much you whimper and meow, bark or growl, they cannot understand you. They do not speak your language although their mouths are moving and sounds are produced. The tree holds your weight but your claws are too sharp and as you shift, your muscles heavy against the bark, it snaps. You tumble to the forest floor and break one of your extra limbs but before you can howl, they incarcerate you and attempt to torch your flank.

Your fur is no longer blue, but it’s not black either; or grey like that of the mother who raised you as her own. You have only seen this colour one time before, when the father who raised you as his own was torn apart by Alpha. A deep red colour now paints your hair and spreads across the mossy forest floors littered with scattered bodies. You don’t know what they were but you are aware of them being lifeless now. Dead. You are as vicious like Alpha now. So, you flee, ignoring the throbbing limb that drags behind you and smacks your right hindleg. When you arrive, Mother doesn’t recognise you and Alpha drags his canines across your snout. You escape with your life hanging precariously in the balance. You no longer smell like yourself.

When you shift to human form the next time, your broken limb vanishes along with its twin but phantom pain continues to plague you as you drag your bruised body through the muddy grounds and into a low cave where the stone scrapes against your knee caps and chafes your palms. You are different from them, you know. They were your family but you were never just like them. Instead, you are similar to the hairless beings with angry faces who you slaughtered in the woods a little ways from your small cave. As sleep captures your consciousness, you wonder why you are not perfectly just like themeither.

You wake to darkness and cold but this time no intrigued yellow eyes peer into your soul. Your knees throb and you notice that you are naked. Hunger drags its claws through the walls of your stomach and you dry heave because you haven’t eaten in days due to heavy storms and fleeing prey. Still, you manage to clamber out of your sanctuary back into the wild where you belong. The mossy grounds tickle your bare feet, wayward branches slap into your face and scratch your delicate skin and the earthy smell of rain tickles your nostrils but you no longer feel safe in the environment that used to embrace your existence wholeheartedly.

Desperately, you start into a sprint; pushing at trees, kicking leaves and snarling into the ominously silent air as you run, following the faint but lingering scent of meat. Fleas prickle at your eyes and tease your hair but you pay them no heed as sharp fangs slice cleanly through tender pink meat. The corpses smell, rapidly deteriorating underneath the onslaught of extreme weather conditions, but their flesh remains largely intact. You fight viciously with your own mind to ignore the despaired upturned faces as you attempt to sate yourself on your victims’ bodies. You are so engrossed in the act that you do not hear the near-silent approach of footsteps or the faint clinking of metal against metal as another being you have not yet encountered happens upon the crime scene.

They see but are unseeing. Scarred eyes fall upon your pitiful, cannibalistic form and you shiver but excitement rushes through your veins as you recognise white eyes as your own. You finally shake the fleas from your wild mane. Desperate for interaction and acceptance, you approach the being that looks similar to you in ways the others did not and soon you find yourself leaning into a searching, petting hand. They take you away from the wild that was once your home and into an unfamiliar one with new smells and overwhelming impressions. You jitter in fear and insecurity, your mouth still red from the meat you consumed. But they shush you and their voice is pleasing to your ears that you let the sound melt your nerves away. When you recognise the smell of wet dog, you get excited. You are not alone with the strange scarred-eyed being. The presence of the dogs calms you and eases the transition from your home in the woodlands to sheltered sanctuary in the city.

You are given clothes. The fabric feels softer than the freshest moss and you first drag it across your cheeks, revelling in its texture. Next, you let your eyes feast on the vibrant colours and intriguing patterns and for the first time in your near-human life, you smile – all blunt pearly whites. Those who wear clothes also wear names and although you don’t understand the sounds that tumble off foreign lips, you acknowledge the word that is associated with you. Especially when you displease the one who now owns you, the one who wears the name of Minsong, as their voice drips with disappointment – coating the name that is yours. You are Yeong, but you speak their name first. They are pleased, and you continue to learn. Your clothes tear often but you can mend them now. You haven’t shifted in weeks. You only look half beastly.

You are so curious, sniffing all you touch and touching all you see. Within a few months of getting used to your new home, you venture out of the small cave they call a room which you were given. Tailed by Hei, Miss Lazer and Yun, you are on a mission to explore the greater cave that is Minsong’s home. You especially love the backyard and you destroy it first before Minsong teaches you how to nurture and grow. You are allowed to tend to the pots and dirt, the plants and flowers until you touch what you can’t and end up imprisoned once more. You whimper as the effects of Fae magic assault your system. You recognise Minsong for what he is and you mourn the loss of similarity those white eyes used to bring. You are not like Minsong and you force yourself to cease your attempts to understand why not. Minsong helps your body to fight contamination. You find out your body has toxic properties of its own.

Years pass but living life in the skin of a long, hairless and skinny being with a funny face remains challenging. You know what speaking means but you refuse when you can. You spend your nights curled up against Bora’s fur because she reminds you of Mother. Sometimes you go out, trailing after Minsong with sharp curious eyes and – more often than not – reaching out to grasp the hem of the man’s leather jacket with trembling spidery fingers – the  dull thudding of boots surprisingly calming to your sensitive ears. The world is big and loud and fast and grey, oh so grey, closing in on your wildness and you feel suffocated in an environment that was not supposed to be your paradise. But the customers at the café are nice and the neighbour with the overgrown garden has a warm, kind smile that makes you feel all tingly inside. They sometimes pet your mane and allow you to roar your appreciation. You wonder if this is what happiness is like. So you endure, you obey and remain loyal to the scarred-eyed Fae who took you from one life and gave you another, nurturing your once lonely soul. You will never be like him but that’s ok. You are you, after all.

CHARACTERIZATION:

Raised in the wilderness, Yeong was a Rakshasa cub abandoned by his witch mother who feared ostracisation by fellow villagers. He was meant to have been eaten by the forest inhabitants but instead was accepted as part of a wolf pack. His home was a dense, widespread woodlands in a remote area located far from Sunseong city. He grew up a curious cub that was forced into being a pup. He was a playful, cheerful being who, since a young age, yearned for acceptance, closeness and affection. He hadn’t been in contact with any other beings, safe for the wolves in his pack and the prey the pack hunted. Because he was reprimanded for any feline or even human characteristics, Yeong repressed those until, at age 15, human hunters happened upon the beast-blooded teenager in their pursuit of supernaturals.

Yeong is quite a gentle soul, something which he unknowingly inherited from his mother – who, despite being cowardly, was a good and pure-natured witch. However, the Rakshasa within Yeong resurfaced and broke through its self-inflicted bondage when Yeong’s life was threatened by assassins. When, out of necessity for survival, Yeong feasted on the remains of the hunters he murdered, his heritage and true nature was awakened. Yeong is someone who, despite being generally benevolent, is a cannibalistic being with a thirst for evil and a passion for carnage. He retains most of his animal-like qualities which help him cope with the malevolent tendencies of his personality. The gift of a name makes Yeong more human and he is aware of humanity as a result. He suffers from a near-insatiable hunger which is sometimes dulled to a faint throbbing need by the odd body Minsong brings home for Yeong to devour. Sometimes one can find Yeong dining on practically spoiled food. Yeong is weak against / allergic to pure brass materials and is afraid of fire.

Yeong is both light and dark; a person who tries to enjoy life and likes to nurture it, who is gentle, loyal and kind, sweet and innocent and yet vicious, unpredictable, observant, cruel and wicked. Yeong is also slow-witted, able to be outsmarted by most humans or supernaturals, and easily fooled. However, make no mistake in thinking he is dumb. Most of what Yeong touches will eventually perish. When Yeong feels empowered by his Rakshasa blood, he is more likely to prey on the vulnerable, to manipulate the situation in his favour or could easily be swayed to attack. He is hostile to Minsong’s enemies. Yeong is also passionate in everything he does. While he has not yet experienced romantic love, it can be assumed that he will be a passionate lover, attentive to the needs and desires of his significant other. He will remain with them until the bitter end, or until his loyalties and alignments shift.

Due to his childhood in the woods, Yeong has not been blessed with a practised ability to grasp and retain control over his beastly features. While Minsong provides ongoing help and training to Yeong, the beast-blooded male can never completely disguise his Rakshasa genes. Because of this, and the fact that he has not yet been properly integrated into human society, Yeong remains largely within close perimeters of Minsong’s home and café and occupies himself with gardening and sewing whatever items of fabric gets torn. The act of sewing calms his chaotic mind and gardening is an occupation Yeong honestly enjoys. Furthermore, art – especially cartoons – fascinate Yeong and he can spend hours watching it. Yeong is illiterate. Whenever Yeong goes out of the house, Minsong usually accompanies him but since the death of the Lord, Minsong has been allowing Yeong to go out more on his own.

SPECIALTIES:

·        Natural Weaponry

Enhanced Bite (innate ability) – Yeong owns a particularly strong set of jaws, with feline fangs that are almost impossible to break. His jaw muscles, sturdy jaw structure and sharp and resilient teeth can tear through flesh easily and even crack bones. His bite is powerful.

Enhanced Mauling (innate ability) – Yeong possesses the skills and innate power to rip other beings to shreds with pure force or a powerful strike of his strong, long limbs. He relies on his own strength and sharp claws in the attack which may leave him exposed to fast attacks.

Venomous Claws (innate ability) – Yeong has a body which can generate its own venom. It seeps into the bone structure of his claws when he extends them and is cut off when his claws retract. However. Yeong can choose to secrete the poison or keep the substance encased within his claws. He has only recently discovered this ability after having begun his training in Contaminant Immunity, which revealed the existence of a contaminant substance production within his own body. When Yeong decides to use the venom, his victim will be contaminated once cut with his claws. The venom can have a variety of effects based on the gravity of the other being’s injuries, ranging from sedation, paralysis to instant death. Some Fae may be immune to Yeong’s venom.

·        Enhanced Senses [Vision, Smell, Hearing] (innate ability) – Due to his heritage and childhood in the wild, Yeong possesses several enhanced senses. His enhanced vision allows him to see with amazing clarity and detail, distance and colour. However, his eyes are sensitive to sunlight and Yeong prefers to wander in dim light, or even at night. His hearing is incredibly sharp and accurate. He can hear over a measurable distance and pick up various sounds, which he can decipher and pinpoint their location. Loud sounds can scare Yeong in his human form but agitate his beastly form. When too many sounds are interrupting his hearing, Yeong prefers to find a quiet place to dull the sensitivity. Yeong can detect specific persons (after having already met them once), species and substances, locate their origin and track targets with their nose. He can also detect sickness or contamination in another being, as well as aroused states (excretion of hormones).

·        Shapeshifting (rank I) – Yeong can shapeshift into full beastly form. However, this also brings with the shift a more beastly mind.

·        Cannibalism Empowerment (innate ability) – Yeong gains strength from cannibalism. He becomes stronger, faster and more durable from indulging in the act of cannibalism. When he eats humans and beast-blooded humans alike himself, the effect is almost immediate. He also draws sustenance from the act and it further slows down his aging. However, eating human(-like) flesh puts a strain on his mental health and promotes his more evilly inclined natures.

·        Magic Detection (innate ability) – This is an ability innate to most beast-blooded persons but Yeong does not quite understand it yet. It is an unpredictable ability which is not always activated. Yeong struggles with defining the magical signatures he smells (which is the only sense linked to this ability) and can often only determine that someone is not fully human, but can’t pinpoint their exact species. Yeong categorises other magical beings as “smells like me” and “doesn’t smell like me”. In the former category, he places all wolf-like and cat-like beings, including other children of Rakshasa; whereas other beast-blooded and magical beings are placed in the latter category – which proves that his abilities of magic detection are faulty.

·        Contaminant Immunity (rank I) – By necessity, Yeong was offered to be taught a magical ability that would protect him from any toxins in Minsong’s home. The little magic which Yeong has is nurtured and supported by the Fae’s guidance, and has resulted in Yeong having been able to strengthen his own immune system. He is now immune to some known poisonous Fae plants, some viruses and bacteria that often plague a human’s immune system and is immune against his own venom, even when he generates a lethal amount of it within his own body.

[tiamatsan]

LG Deamon Au: Papae

Sooooooo….. this was getting to be a bit too long and I’ve decided to break it up into different parts. There will be 2 more parts about the rest of Lavellan family, one more part about what happens right before Inquisition and Lavellan Deamon finally deciding on what form to settle into, and then Inquisition. Inquisition may or may not be broken into smaller parts as well. Still not sure if I’ll be doing much with Looking Glass. Tagging @feynites just cause

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There’s no reason to stay in the clearing anymore. Their child no longer sees them, she hasn’t for a while now, and the loneliness Aenea had warned them about feels suffocating. The only thing that had prevented them from leaving earlier was the twinges of pain in their ribs and the memory of the angry she-demon hissing in their mind. Eventually, the pain faded and so too did the fear of what may lay beyond the safety of Deshanna protection. So, with one last look at their child, who remains unmoving and unseeing as she had been, they leave the clearing.

It is surprising to see the world had changed while they had been healing. No longer were they in a dense forest as they had been before, instead the forest had turned into a large sprawling plains. Tall grass reached up and swayed in a nonexistent breeze, a shade of gold that they had never seen before. From their vantage point, up on a hill, they can see within the field of grass similar rings of blue flames and the shadow of Aenea as he wings his way from one circle to another.

Still, it takes some moments before they pluck up the courage to enter the tall grass. They don’t know a form big enough to see over it. They suppose that they could turn into a bird, but they had never been very good at flying. Instead, they become smaller, ears sharper, and tiny paws padding silently across the dirt. They relish for a moment in their ability to change. They had not been allowed to while they were still healing and it was stifling to have to remain in one form for so long.

Their whiskers twitch and they can scent a change in the air. There is a scent that they can’t recognize, it sorts of reminds them of Aenea but at the same time it does not. The uncertainty of it causes them to drop low to the ground. Ears twitching as they searched for sounds while their tail twitched uncertainly. Their wariness allows them to hear the rustling of grass as something big makes it way towards them. The fear that they had been trying so hard to ignore comes bursting back into their chest, making it hard to breathe and freezing their paws in place as they watch the golden stalks before them part.

Out lands a massive hoof, easily bigger than their head, and a massive head follow soon after. Giant horns swinging low to the ground and missing them by mere inches as the beast finally catches sight of them. He stills (large brown eyes so big that they can see their own reflection within) staring at them in silence before a great gusty sigh escapes him and sweeps over them. His large soft nose hovers over their head and the great hart breathes in deeply. Enough so that they can feel their fur pull towards the nose above them, and they can swear they just saw a leaf go flying into his nose. Which appears to have happened, because the hart is rearing back, shaking his head in a sharp swinging motion before a massive sneeze explodes out of him, and look there goes the leaf flying into the distance.

It’s so silly that they can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of them. It comes out as a low rumbling purr and the fact that it even happened at all causes them to fall silent. They had not laughed since the night their child refused to see them. The hart is looking at them again. He has the same look in his eyes that Aenea had, and it is then that they realize the beast must be someone’s deamon, just like them. With that realization, their fear leaves them and they find themselves finally relaxing in the great hart’s presence. At least until he sweeps his large horns at them and scoops them into the curve of his massive antlers, and suddenly they’re much, much, much, higher than they were before.

Their tiny claws did little against the sturdy spikes if the hart’s horns, but it did sink in just enough so that they no longer felt as if they would simply slide off from such a great height at a moment’s notice. Which was good because no sooner had they settled into the crook of the hart’s horns, he was off. Trotting swiftly through the sea of endless golden grass and heading towards a ring of blue flame further away from their child than they would have liked. While a part of themselves could only feel the rapid beating of their heart and the sinking dread that this probably wasn’t the best idea, another part of themselves watched in awe as from their new vantage point they could see miles and miles out of golden grass sea. Could spot shadows as things moved in the grass and rings of blue flames that dotted in numbers that they couldn’t even begin to count.

Then they were stepping over blue flames and suddenly they could hear their child laughing. They spun around and found their child, and yet at the same time it wasn’t their child. She was there, but not, like a shadow that looked and acted like her but didn’t feel empty. They watched, stunned, as their not-child ran towards the center of the clearing, towards a man who knelt laughing to catch the shade. The man was like their child, solid and real in a way that they had only ever known their child and Deshanna to be, and they watched as the man spun around lifting their not-child into the air. They didn’t understand, not until their not-child began shrieking “Papae! Papae!” and it is then that they truly begin to see. To see the similarities between their child and the man who obliviously spun in circles before them. The same shade of color in their eyes, the same chin and nose, and they remember their child who at times would ramble on and on about her papae and mamae.

Oh, they had known the words, but only now did their importance truly begin to click. This was their child’s papae, this was their child’s family, their kin, their clan. They recalled suddenly the many rings of blue flames that Aenea was watching over and the sheer enormity of it suddenly crashed down on them. They had always thought that they needed no one other than their child, they had assumed that their child was the same, but that wasn’t true. Their child was loved, the man before them proved that, and their child in return loved them back. It hurt to realize that their child didn’t need them. Another sharp stinging pain that hurt worse than any of the wounds the she-demon had left on them.

Suddenly, the hart lowered his head and unprepared they tumbled to the ground. It didn’t hurt, they had faced worse against the she-demon, but they found to their confusion tears springing to their eyes and rolling over their furry cheeks. They hadn’t even known they could cry in this form. The hart lowered his head and nuzzled them with his wide nose. A tongue darting out and dragging through their fur on their left cheek. He turned in a tight circle around them before lowering himself gently to the ground. His warm body circling around them in a way that reminded them of how Aenea would hide them in his wings.

His warm brown eyes stared at the man, who was now chasing after their not-child, with the same sad eyes that Aenea had. Except it wasn’t the same. They could see it now, the longing that lingered in the hart’s eyes as he watched over the man who ran in circles in the clearing. He looked at the man the same way they looked at their child.

Oh.

Aenea was wrong. The Hart was this man’s deamon. This hart was the deamon to the man who was their child’s papae. This Hart was theirs just like their child was theirs, and they too belonged to the Hart like their child belonged to her papae. Even if their child refused to see them, they weren’t alone. Like a dam breaking, relief rushed through them and they couldn’t stop the hiccuping sobs that escaped from them. The Hart nuzzled his warm nose against the fur upon their back, his solid warmth a reminder that they didn’t have to go through their life alone, and for the first time since they had met the she-demon they felt safe.

[princesscipherite]

Sneak Peak to Blind But Not Unseeing Sequel!!!

Yay!!! I finally finished the planning document and started the sequel to “Blind But Not Unseeing”! AHHH I’M SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW~! So, I wanted to give everyone who wanted it a sneak peak! The working title is “A Beast’s Escape”, but I’m not quite sure if that’s what I want to go with yet. Anyway, enjoy!

(also, I call it a sneak peak, but its pretty much the first chapter)

No experiment had ever succeeded. In fact, as Sans helped his father day after day, he firmly believed that the formation of his brother was the last experiment that would succeed. Trying to create a SOUL that would be able to destroy the barrier of its own strength was a ridiculous endeavor. All they were working with was their own magic! Not only did it not make sense, but Gaster was firm in his misguided resolve. Still, Sans listened to his father and did his bidding without the slightest verbal complaint. He knew that this experiment would fail every time they did it, and that was enough for his apathy to kick in.

“Sans, grab the concentrated magic for me.”

“yessir,” the beast responded, plodding over and slipping the syringe syringe from its case with the utmost care.

“It is time, Sans. We have made great progress. This will prove to be an experiment worthy of our genius.”

“yessir,” Sans repeated, eying the machine with a tired gaze. It hummed to life at Gaster's prodding, its whirring filling the room. Soon enough, the magic was injected and it began to swirl inside. Over and over it spun, consolidating into one small area.

With a flash of white light, a creature fell from the tube. Horrid screeches escaped it, the melting and cracking SOUL floating above it. As the light finally faded, they could see the skeleton with its missing bones, clean breaks, and fractures. It shivered, whines escaping as it tried to crawl toward them.

Sans turned his gaze to the side, holding back the urge to vomit. While this was the most successful experiment yet, they had created a true monstrosity. What they had done should never be done again.

“A disappointment,” Gaster sighed, shaking his head. “I had hoped that this would be even a bit better. It is truly upsetting. Very well. Sans, dust the failure.”

The smaller skeleton sighed, summoning a few bones. He did not have any other choice since Gaster would probably punish Papyrus, so he resigned himself to his fate. Just as he lined the summoned bones up to the creature's heart, another flash of light blinded both him and Gaster. A sliver of pure darkness joined the light, completely blinding the duo.

As the light and darkness faded to something bearable, Sans and Gaster were treated to a completely new sight. The monstrosity that had been broken, melting, and falling apart had formed into a true entity. It was a bit smaller than Sans, with a sharper jaw and horns. On its back, two bony wings spread out and laid on the floor to its sides. A tail nearly the length of its body spread out behind it, ending in a sharp point. It was naked aside from a strangely shaped pendant, occasionally dripping with an odd black substance.

“What...?” Gaster managed, eyelights locked onto your form.

Shivering like a newborn, you moved your legs underneath you and tried to stand. It took a few tries, but you finally managed to stand up on your four limbs. There was an odd aching in your chest, but you had no idea what could be causing that. In fact, there were a lot of things you simply didn't know. It was strange to honestly consider, that so many things were unknown to you while some things were obvious.

“holy shit, gaster.”

You raised your gaze to the creature that had spoken. He was a good head or two taller than you, though his slouching made him seem a bit shorter. A quick glance over your own body revealed that he was pretty similar in appearance. Though he didn't have the wings, which confused you. Who was this monster?

“Holy shit, indeed,” Gaster hummed, forcing your gaze to him. “This beast is quite the anomaly.”

The taller skeleton stepped closer, his cold gaze making you take a step back. Whatever this man did, you didn't want him near you. Your wings raised of their own accord, trying to make you seem even bigger than you already were. When you tried to tell him to step back, all that escaped was an angry hiss. The man's eyelights became slits, his posture going rigid.

“Fine. It has just formed. Sans, you are in charge of them. Bring them to the room across from yours. They are your responsibility, so keep them safe.”

“yessir,” Sans responded, gesturing for you to follow him.

Feeling much more relaxed around the smaller of the two, you did as you were asked. Sans led you through a set of heavy metal doors. The hallway behind smelled of chemicals, your claws clicking against the shiny white tiles. The walls were painted the same white as the floors. Seeing the same thing over and over made your chest tighten in an almost painful manner. It was a feeling you could not quite place.

“so, kid, any idea what just happened?”

A low purr escaped your throat in lieu of a response. As he cast you a strange glance, you huffed in annoyance. You tried a few more times, only managing to make a few different noises instead of words. Sans eyed you as you continued to try, merely raising an eyebrow ridge at the sounds escaping you.

“oh. you, uh, can't talk, then?”

You growled, the sound reverberating low in your chest, in agreement.

“huh. well, pap and i couldn't talk at first, either.”

At that, you tilted your head to the side. It was your best attempt to get your question across.

“pap is my little bro. our dad, gaster, created me first. then pap. he created you using a lot of different monster's magic, though, so you're not related to him in the same way we are,” he explained, tail swishing back and forth rapidly. “i'd stay away from pap, if i were you.”

You slowed to a stop as Sans placed a claw on a door handle. A soft purr of confusion escaped, curious as to his sudden mood shift.

“he's a good kid.”

Sans stopped at that, opening the door and gesturing for you to go through. Without any other real option, you made your way into the room and looked around. There were no windows, and the walls and floors were the same as in the hallway. In one corner, there was a pile of sterile white pillows. Aside from the door that led into the hallway, there was only one other door. A quick check revealed it to be an empty closet.

“this is your room, kid,” Sans said from the doorway. “my room is across the hall. see me if you need anything. for now, stay in here while i go find you some clothes.”

With that, the taller skeleton pressed the button to shut the door to your new room. You let out a soft sigh, walking over to the pillows to move them into a more comfortable bed. It took a while to get them just right, but when you laid down, it was perfect. Your eye sockets drifted closed, sleep threatening to overtake you.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, the door to your opened again. A skeleton half your size came in backwards, dragging a wheelbarrow with him. Bolts of fabrics, some sort of fluff, needles, thread, and a sewing machine sat in the cart. The skeleton himself was wearing a white shirt with 'COOL DUDE' written across the front in black marker, a pair of blue pants, and a bright red scarf. Tight gloves adorned his front feet, though there were holes for his dew claws.

“HELLO, NEW MONSTER!” the skeleton yelled, turning to you with a happy grin on his face. “MY NAME IS PAPYRUS. MY BROTHER WAS ASKING ABOUT CLOTHES FOR A BEAST LIKE HIM BUT A BIT SMALLER, AND I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, QUICKLY REALIZED WHAT THAT MEANT! WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

You tilted your head to the side, letting loose an uneasy purr. It wasn't like you could answer him, for two reasons. The first was, of course, that you simply couldn't talk. That fact was something you were hoping Sans or, stars forbid, Gaster would help you with. And then..., you didn't have one. Perhaps it was because you were just created, but you didn't have a name yet.

“NEW MONSTER?”

You used your tail to tap your neck, following it up with a soft purr.

“OH. YOU CAN'T TALK?” At your resulting nod, Papyrus merely grinned. “NOT A PROBLEM, FRIEND! I CAN CALL YOU BY THAT TITLE FOR NOW! IN THE MEANTIME, I WANT TO MAKE YOU SOME CLOTHES! IT IS HARDLY RIGHT TO WANDER AROUND NAKED.” Orange light surrounded the bolts of fabric, a similar orange light shining from his right eye socket. “PLEASE PICK YOUR FAVORITE COLOR, AND I WILL MAKE YOU YOUR OWN SWEATSHIRT! I MAKE ALL OF MY OWN CLOTHES, SO I PROMISE IT WILL BE NEARLY AS GREAT AS I AM.”

Shifting your position on the pillows, you reached forward and tapped one of the bolts.

“GREAT CHOICE, FRIEND! THIS COLOR WILL LOOK GREAT ON YOU!” With that out of the way, needles, thread, and scissors were soon surrounded by the same orange light. Papyrus cut and tied together fabric with expert precision. “IT WILL PROBABLY BE A COUPLE DAYS BEFORE DAD COMES TO GET YOU FOR YOUR FIRST TEST. HE IGNORED ME FOR A FULL WEEK SO I COULD GET A HOLD OF MY MAGIC. I REMEMBER SANS TEACHING ME EVERYTHING I KNOW. THERE'S A LOT YOU WILL HAVE TO LEARN, BUT MY BROTHER IS THE BEST TEACHER!”

You lowered your head, resting in on the pillows as you purred.

“DO NOT LET HIM KNOW I WAS HERE, THOUGH. WHILE I DO LOVE MY BROTHER, HE CAN BE INCREDIBLY PROTECTIVE! I AM NO LONGER A BABY BONES, EVEN IF THAT IS HOW HE WISHES TO TREAT ME.”

A chuckle escaped you at the smaller skeleton's insistence.

“BUT MY POINT HOLDS. AND YOU CAN COME SEE ME ANYTIME SANS IN BUSY! I AM IN THE ROOM TO THE LEFT OF HIS. IT WILL BE NICE TO HAVE SOMEONE ELSE TO HANG OUT WITH! MOST OF DAD'S ASSISTANTS ARE AFRAID TO BE AROUND ME AND SANS. THEY ARE AFRAID OF MY DAD.”

You tilted your head to the side, doing your best to give a comforting purr.

“OH, IT IS OKAY, FRIEND,” Papyrus called, grinning at you as he lifted the white fluff from his cart. “I AM USED TO IT. BESIDES, I ALWAYS HAD SANS. SANS DIDN'T HAVE ANYONE.” As he finished speaking, the skeleton snipped the last thread and tied a knot. “HERE YOU GO, FRIEND. THIS IS A SWEATSHIRT! IT CAN GET COLD HERE, SO THIS SHOULD KEEP YOU WARM WHILE ALSO COVERING YOU UP!”

The article of clothing was surrounded by the same orange light as it floated over to you. It took some input from Papyrus to get it on since you'd never worn anything before, but the fabric was soft against your bones. In fact, you hadn't even realized you were chilly until the warmth from the sweatshirt seeped into you. You stood fully, stretching and appreciating the flexibility of the fabric. Your tail swished back and force, knocking pillows around. As you were bouncing about, the door to your room opened again. Papyrus shrunk in on himself as Sans walked in.

“i think i found a shirt that might fit, kid,” he said, studying the clothing on his back. “you'll have to try them-,” Sans cut himself off as he looked up, spotting the younger skeleton in the room. His eyelights vanished, forcing his eye sockets to become pitch black holes. “pap. what are you doing here.”

The smaller skeleton trembled under the glare of his brother. “I... I WANTED TO HELP MY NEW FRIEND.”

“pap, go back to your room.”

“BUT, SANS-”

“n o w, papyrus.”

Noticing the younger skeleton flinch back, a growl escaped you. You jumped from your position on the pillows, landing between Papyrus and Sans. Your tail lashed back and forth, leaving marks on the tiles. Constant snarls left your chest, and you could feel a strange power surrounding you. Before you, Sans took a step back. His eyelights had reappeared, and he was lowering closer to the floor.

“okay, there, kid..., calm down, will ya?”

Another snarl escaped you when he tried to move closer. You lifted your wings to block the older skeleton's view of his brother.

“F-FRIEND?” Papyrus spoke up. “THANK YOU FOR PROTECTING ME, BUT PLEASE DON'T HURT SANS. AND PUT THE PILLOWS DOWN!”

You turned in confusion, a yelp escaping when you noticed the pillows floating around you. Each one was surrounded with a light formed from a variety of colors. In fact, that same color spectrum was now forming a web between the bones of your wings. Whines began to leave you as you lowered to the floor, the sight confusing you.

“oh, crap, that's right. you don't know about your magic yet.”

“OH NO! FRIEND, PLEASE REMAIN CALM!”

You let loose another whine, clutching your skull with your claws.

“hey, kid, look at me.”

You did as Sans asked, focusing on his pin-prick eyelights.

“okay, now i want you to look straight at one of those pillows. you're controlling them, so try imagining them lowering to the ground.”

Whining low, you turned your gaze to one of the many floating pillows. It took several tries, but eventually the pillow you were looking at lost the light and fell to the ground. You perked up, moving straight onto the next pillow. Knowing what you were doing, the remaining pillows fell one by one. At the last one, you were able to make it move a bit before the pressure in your chest began to lessen. Despite not commanding it to, the pillow fell to the floor. The light from your wings faded at the same time, and you were hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion.

As if sensing what was coming, Sans hopped over and caught you as you started to fall. Behind you, Papyrus was already remaking your bed. By the time you lost your ability to stand, Sans and Papyrus had maneuvered you onto the pillows. A soft whine escaped you, worry forcing your chest to constrict.

“don't worry about it kiddo, okay?”

“MONSTERS LIKE US ARE MADE OF MAGIC. WHEN WE USE TOO MUCH, WE GET REALLY TIRED!”

You managed a single nod, allowing your eye sockets to close and sleep to finally overtake you. As you fell asleep, you could hear Sans apologizing to Papyrus for scaring him. The latter was quick to accept the apology, happy that everything had worked out.

It was nice to think you had made a difference.