#they had old injuries (lost wings + 3 arms on their left side + left w a big scar across their body OH and also lost 1 eye)

[ria-starstruck]

I think i’ve finalized the hollowknightification of my bug god ocs (they usually look more like this, or this) so ofc to celebrate i gave them a sad story that ends in separation !

Sol (small fella) and Lune (big fella) are traveling siblings who happened to be passing through Dirtmouth. The knight (or ghost? can the player character be considered “the” or “a” “knight”? i guess i’ll find out) encounters them a few times while traveling through Hallownest, always at deeper and deeper levels. It seems the siblings encounter harsher and harsher struggles, for the deeper they go, the more bandages Sol wears, around their face and body, as if they haven’t had time to heal from one enemy before the next is on them. And yet, somehow Lune remains unscathed...

oh and then i guess there’s an infected Sol boss fight (i just think it would be neat) and then Lune would hate u for forever </3

[jasperlovesstarss]

RF Candy redesigns? :3

NON-CANON (?) RF CANDY CUPID!

Backstory: Candy is the head of the terminal, which is the underground part of the Rainbow Factory. Walden is the head scientist at the upper part of the factory. In the terminal there is a version of the grinder, like the one Walden (RF Wally) has in his part of the factory, except it's bigger, and by bigger I mean HUGEEEEE, and like 100x more dangerous. Candy, unfortunately, fell in one day (she was pushed in but she never found out who it was until later in the lore), and lost the entirety of the left side of her body + her right arm. Somehow she survived, due to someone saving her, that someone being her not-so-great husband, Brutus. Brutus was really abv$!v3, but after he told her he 'saved' her, she started to like him a little more, and they eventually got a decent relationship before she found out he was the one who pushed her in the terminal. (One day Candy came up to Wally's part of the factory to ask for more workers because most of her good workers died, and that how her and Walden met.)

She, at first, addressed Wally as "Mr. Darling" but as they got closer she started to call him Walden, and eventually worked her way down to Wally.

ASSISTANT RF CANDY! (Canon/Fanon ver!)

Backstory: This ones pretty self explanatory. She was hired to be Waldens assistant, over time they grew closer, she was sassy and more playful with him instead of super formal (still respectful though), calling him Wally instead of boss or sir all the time. She got the right side of her face badly damaged by a rouge experiment one time. It wasn't that bad, but it was bad enough to leave a decent sized scar on the right side of her face. She also lost her left wing in a separate accident, but it was also the cause of one of the test subjects. Candy was meant to be working on a peaceful subject, it was in a room that could only be opened from the inside, and normally that wouldn't be a problem if the test subject was neutral, or calm, but they made a mistake on the grading of the subject and it was actually really hostile, ripping off her wing. She still continues to work at the factory and doesn't mind her injuries as she can still fly with both wings and see out of both eyes.

The eye that was damaged changed to be the 'hostile' version of Candy's eyes, and she had to get her wing replaced by a prosthetic, like Waldens hand, but that's all the repercussions she suffered from her injuries.

Eye ref:

Wing ref:

Art on right by @/Dodozoi17 on TikTok!! :D

(That's RF Wally's old design)

My TikTok: @jasperlovesstarss

Jazzy ~✩

[fruitcoops]

Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better. 

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood. 

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more. 

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment. 

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen. 

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them. 

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.” 

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?” 

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius.  I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.” 

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!” 

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.” 

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus. 

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.” 

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.” 

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.” 

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending. 

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.” 

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

[waywardtakami]

- don't leave me

✦pairing: hawks x gn!reader

✦c/w: language, slight mha manga spoilers, 16+ only , angst

✦a/n: hello!! I'm very excited about this fic, it's my first gn one! It's been sitting in my wips for so long and I'm finally happy with it. hopefully people will still read this without there being smut. thank you! <3

✦summary: hawks gets hurt during a mission...

✦w/c: 2k

Keigo had left you again to fight in another mission. He had only been gone for a few days, but you wished he was with you instead. You missed him so much. He hadn't been physically by your side in so long, causing your heart to ache again. Times like these were practically torture. Waking up without him by your side was agonizing, but you were used to it.

His job was all-consuming and you knew him being away for large amounts of time would affect you when you committed yourself to this relationship. There was a constant worry for his life and maybe a little for your own. 

You and Kei decided to keep your relationship as private as possible so no one would go after you. He didn't want anyone to kidnap or hurt you. 

Even though his musk scent was flooded throughout your shared home, you still tried distracting yourself the best you could.

After making your favorite food, you plopped onto the couch and turned on the TV to try and take your mind off him. 

As the TV flickered on, your boyfriend's face flashed across the screen. A gruff voice played over what was being shown. You assumed it was just something about his stats or a recent interview per usual. It didn't help the feeling in your heart subside by seeing him.

You changed the channel, again and again. But every channel had been taken over by the same broadcast. You eventually fixated and listened.

Your heart dropped.

Hawks had been accused of murder. 

"Murder...?" you mumbled to yourself. "No..he...what?" Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was about to thump out of your chest. You were stuck in a pool of emotions of confusion and immense shock, it was like your head was on fire. 

Dabi...one of the League of Villain members was behind this. All the information you received was from Keigo's colleagues and the media. 

Keigo had been hurt bad...real bad.

The fact that you couldn't do anything about it had you overwhelmed and panicked. When you finally found out which hospital he was brought to through FatGum, you drove yourself there.

Of course he was brought to one one of the furthest ones from where you guys lived. On top of that, traffic was horrendous. With everything that had gone down, the citizens of the city were frantic and trying to get home to their families.

Your hands and entire body practically trembled while driving. Your eyes pricked with tears at the thought of Keigo's wounded state. "He's fine he's fine he's FINE!" You kept telling yourself over and over. 

When you made it to the hospital, there was a large number of people in the waiting room. The sounds of people clamoring in and trying to get a room were deafening. You hurried over to the front desk. 

"Hello Ma'am I need to see Hawks, he should be here." She wouldn't let you in his room. You wanted to see him, no you needed to see him. You started crying, pleading, begging for her to let you go in his room. But the front desk lady apologized and insisted he needed to rest and isn't accepting visitors. 

You knew it was really because she probably thought you were just some fan of his. Or maybe even a reporter trying to sneak in photos. But no, you were his baby, his life, and they weren't going to let you in.

"I'M HIS DAMN PARTNER FOR GOD SAKES!" You yell while slamming your fist against the counter. You didn't realize how much impact you put into your fist until you felt pain in your hand. The waiting room goes almost quiet and heads turn to look at you. You glance back to see all the faces turned to you. 

Your voice softens from embarrassment. "Please...just let me see him." Your fist still against the counter looking at the nurse with tears streaming down your face. 

She stands up and moves closer, "I'm so sorry, I believe you…" She slides a clip board with a few papers attached. "...but we can't let you in just yet he's still recovering from his injuries, he needs to rest right now. Please fill these out while you wait." She looks back up with you with a faint smile. She really does believe you. She can see it in your eyes, the pain, she understood.

You release your hand, and pick up the clipboard. Looking at her on the other side of the counter you give her a face flustered nod and mouth a quick "thank you."

You go sit down comfortably in one of the empty chairs to wait for keigo to wake up...

The news of your wounded boyfriend was already half across Japan. After filling out the forms you scroll through your phone to calm yourself down. You kept seeing post after post about him. Almost all news headlines had his name. 

You think to yourself about how much of it is all bullshit and that he's fine. Deep down you weren't sure if the words your brain kept telling you were true. You click on one of the posts about him that reads: 

"THE NUMBER TWO PRO HERO DEAD" 

Your heart skips a beat, but quickly you realize it's just a fake. You scroll through, lightly skimming the bullcrap you were reading. You scroll and see a photo taken of him the night he was brought to the hospital. You wonder how the press even got a photo of him. You focus on the photo, he does look dead. It only showed his upper body, completely covered in burns. More tears forming at the corners of your eyes just seeing him in the photo. Oh and his wings, his big bright vermilion wings...gone.

You were a complete mess at this point but your sniffles and choked sobs were interrupted by the front desk lady waving to you. "He's awake." 

Quickly following her into the room you see him. As you stand in the doorway for a moment, your heart sinks. You hurry to him. He had bandages wrapped around his head. His hair was short and mostly singed off. And his wings...they really were gone. "I'll leave you two alone," the nurse walks out and closes the door behind her.

You turn back to him.

"Kei?" you whimpered out.

His half lidded eyes look at you. His formerly bright, charming and yellow pupils have become dark and filled with anguish. He was wearing a mask over his nose and mouth with two tubes coming from the sides of it. He couldn't speak or breath himself, due to his throat being burned. 

Of course he knew it was you. Tears welled up deep inside and coursed down his cheeks. Seeing him like this had your body nauseas. You move to cup your hand on his face, feeling the material of his mask rather than his soft subtle skin. You graze your thumb against his cheekbone to wipe away his tears.

You pick up one of his hands to hold it in yours. "Kei….I'm so glad you're okay." You were sniffling through each word. He slowly raises his arm to point to the phone sitting on the table near his hospital bed. Handing it to him, you watch as his calloused fingers type out what he wants to say. 

"Angel, I've missed you so much, please never leave my side." You faintly smile at him, wishing you could hear those words come from his mouth and not the AI voice. 

"I won't leave you Keigo, I'm here, I won't go anywhere."

He types again. "I'm pretty beat up, but I think I'll make it."

Your ears focus on "think" for a moment. "Yes Kei you'll be fine, everything's gonna be okay. You felt a bit better being in his presence but you still couldn't bear the sight of him. Your eyes began to prick with tears once again and this time Kei was the one who bought his hand up to brush your tears away just like you did moments ago. 

You try your best to wrap your arms around him without causing him anymore pain. You could feel him wince when you laid your head against his chest. "Sorry Kei I didn't mean to hur-" He waves his hand and shakes his head, signaling that it's okay.

Your body looked calm despite how tangled your mind was.There were many questions that flooded your mind. So many things you wanted to say. But you could worry about the details later. Right now you were finally with him again, there was no way you were letting him leave you ever again.

You were bent over, upper body on top of him at an awkward position. You didn't want to hurt him, so this had to work.

Despite the position, you took in the moment with your boyfriend. Feeling his chest slowly rise up and down. You close your eyes and imagine you were back home with him in bed. Just snuggling on a weekend afternoon, light shining in on him making his wings light up beautifully against the sun. His golden locks and glowing skin, his scent washing over your senses. Your warm bodies practically glued together. You wanted that again, you wanted everything back to normal.

He moved one of his scarred hands to your back, slowly rubbing up and down. He knew he wasn't going to make it. He was fighting so hard on the inside. So damn hard...for you. He didn't want to leave you, he couldn't. His mind wandered about the life he had planned to have with you.

He faintly smiled under the mask when he imagined you walking down the aisle...holding your first child...sitting in little rocking chairs growing old together. That's all he wanted.

Both of your tears never stopped. You were both silent. The only sounds to be heard were each other's quiet sniffles and the monitor Keigo was attached to, making a faint beep to his heart beat. Still laying on his chest, his breathing started to slow and so did the beeping, being lost in the moment you didn't notice really but he knew.

He waved his hand signaling for you to stand up and brought his hand to take off his mask. He couldn't hold on much longer. Every aching pain inside him felt like knives stabbing his insides and with each stab more time from his life was taken.

"Kei, you need to keep it on to breath, please." He shakes his head and takes it off anyways. The beeping still started to slow. The mask hung off the side of his face. His honeyed voice now husk from the burns. 

"Baby...I love you so...so.." He coughs making him hiss at the pain.

"No..fuck..Kei stop, you're going to be okay just put the damn mask on." 

"I'm too..far..gone, I have no more fight left." 

Holding his jaw in your hands,your face inches from him. "No you have to stay strong for me, please don't leave me again, I can't do this without you." 

"Kid...please...when I'm gone...find someone else and-

"NO- I ONLY WANT YOU!" You cry out, holding his head to your chest. Long-lasting sobs leaving your mouth.

"I love...you" His breathing is heavy from trying to speak. He needed to tell you this. He needed you to understand how much he loves you.

Moving his head from your chest. "I love you too...kiego." You manage to say through your choked sobs. 

You move to have your lips brush his, softly, delicately, like butterfly wings, just long enough that he could inhale your breath, feel the warmth of your skin. He closes his eyes and connects his lips to yours. It was deep and passionate, like you were kissing him for the first time. You held one side of his face with one hand, and held his hand with the other. 

But when you pull away, his eyes don't open. It's like that's all he wanted, no needed. One last kiss, one last touch. To feel you. 

His breathing completely slows, and you're left with the prolonged beep of the monitor. He was gone. The man who was always too fast for his own good, had left you and the world too fast.

✶tag list: @levithestripper @sleepysnk @conniesspringersgf @regretfulfairies @miyanom @sashatotie @romeoandjuliet96 @strawberry-pp @megvmi-s @cinnamonnn-roll @gooddayzarerare @kkodzvken

[ilikefandom]

Salamander Love

Request: Can I request a Sev x reader with some drama but a fluffy ending please it’s ok if u don’t want to. <3 <3

Requested By: Anon

Genre: Angst with a Fluffy ending

Synopsis: (Y/n) likes Snape, Snape likes (Y/n), the fires of love are almost burnt out.

Pairings: Severus Snape x Fem Reader

Warnings: Injuries and an Arrest

(Y/n) had thought having a crush on her co-worker was ok. After all he didn’t know about it so no harm done, right? Well, the answer was actually no. Everything was not alright.

Severus Snape was very attractive, at least to (Y/n), and that meant that other, more worthy, women would receive a slightly higher chance of scoring his affections. Like today, when she found her usual chair, next to Severus, in use by the new Herbology teacher, Alison May.

Allison was ok, although more openly flirtatious than (Y/n), and she wasn’t that nice. (Y/n) had met her at the beginning of the year when she came to the greenhouse for some burn ointment that Pomona Sprout had kept in her cupboard. Noticing the greenhouse sign had been removed, and with it went the sign that made the greenhouse a communal space and first aid checkpoint, (Y/n) entered the humid room. As she opened the doors to the old cabinet, a shrill voice yelled at her to - “Stop, thief!”

(Y/n), not listening, dripped three drops of the ointment onto her burn, then turned to face the door, annoyed. “May I help you?” She asked, returning the ointment to the shelf labeled first aid.

“What are you doing in my greenhouse?” Allison had accused, pointing a finger at (Y/n). 

“I burned myself, doing my job mind you, and came here because it is the closest first aid point.” (Y/n) retorted, showing Allison the healing burn.

“That doesn’t mean that you can just waltz in here!” Allison shouted, “This is my space and I control who comes in.”

“Technically speaking, this is not your office, it is your classroom, which is used by both staff and students with injuries sustained outdoors that don’t require Poppy’s help. It’s a first aid checkpoint, as I mentioned before. And you would have known this if you hadn’t taken the sign off of the door.” (Y/n) explained moving towards the exit.

“Well it isn’t anymore, there will be no staff or students allowed in MY greenhouse without my expressed permission!”

(Y/n) sighed and took the chair that Allison sat in, between Minerva McGonagall and Dumbledore. She began scooping dinner onto her plate, her foot twitching under the table.

“Are you quite alright (Y/n)? You seem upset, not enough points for (Y/h) to win this year?” Dumbledore gave a short laugh into his wine.

“I’m not that proud, Albus. I’m just a bit anxious to start tomorrow.”

“You’re a natural with creatures.” Minerva commented, “the unicorns really trust you.”

(Y/n) shrugged her shoulders, not willing to let them know that it was a whole other kind of creature that she was being wary of, one of the crush stealing variety.

The next morning, (Y/n) had her bonfire going again, outside of the greenhouse, all of the salamander eggs had hatched and she was holding an adult salamander, while teaching the fifth year class about the one hour policy.

A hand raised from the back of the class. “Professor (Y/L/N), what about the eggs you have in a bucket over there?”

“Good question, Miss Bell. Those eggs are for Professor Snape, and are from ashwinders, not salamanders. They are so he can teach the NEWT students about love potions.” (Y/n) said, reaching down to grab a chili pepper, rubbing it all over the salamander.

A scream filled the air and a pair of hands attempted to rip the salamander out of (Y/n)’s grasp. “Don’t hurt the lizard! You are an awful person!”

(Y/n) passed the magical amphibian to her other hand as Allison reached for it. “Allison! It’s a salamander!” She replied calmly.

“I don’t care! You rubbed a spicy pepper all over it!”

(Y/n) looked at the salamander which was now chomping on the chili pepper. Allison’s hands were flying everywhere and (Y/n) was trying to keep her balance.

With one more push from Allison, (Y/n) was shoved toward the bonfire. All she could think about was all of the baby salamanders she was going to crush and how hot the fire was, before everything went black.

What (Y/n) didn’t know was that a certain darkly clothed professor was coming down the stairs and saw the incident. All of the fifteen year old students were screaming and all of the second year Herbology students were screaming. Allison, instead of helping the teacher who was, quite literally burning up, went back to the greenhouse to continue teaching her lesson.

Severus sprinted the rest of the way across the field as (Y/n)’s students were panicking and attempting to pull their teacher out of the fire. He flicked his wand and (Y/n) flew into his arms, her head pressed against his chest. “Class dismissed,” he snapped, before racing (Y/n) to the hospital wing.

Poppy was next to them in a flash and, before he knew it. Poppy was sending him to get the strongest healing potion from his back stores. As he left, worry filled his heart as he saw (Y/n). She had second and third degree burns coating her upper half, and Poppy was desperately using cooling spells on all of them.

Severus retrieved the bottle and hurried up to the healing room, hastily letting his sixth year students know that they had a free period. As he made his way to the hospital he was joined by Minerva and Filius, who both struggled to keep up with him as Severus broke school rules by running down the hall.

Flitwick gasped at the young teacher’s wounds as Minerva turned and sprinted onward to Dumbledore’s office. Both the potions and charms professors made their way to the bed occupied by (Y/n), Severus handing off the healing potion as he went.

Snape, at last, slumped into a chair and buried his face in his hands. How could he have been so careless, as to let the one person he had genuine feelings for slip from his grasp yet again. He didn’t leave to go to dinner, when the bell rang, he didn’t move when Poppy told him that (Y/n) was stable, he didn’t move as he prayed and waited for (Y/n) to wake up.

Early the next morning, a Saturday to be precise, Allison May was brought before Dumbledore. She was then fired for endangering the life of her colleague and promptly arrested by Kingsly Shaklebolt for assault causing grievous bodily harm. Severus felt relief when he found out that Pomona would be returning to fill her position. 

Snape’s eyes were so dry, that he figured that he lost more tears crying over (Y/n) than Lily. Lily, that was it, that's what she felt for James. His shock enveloped him as he realized that what he had felt for Lily Potter was infatuation and not true love and as he grabbed (Y/n)’s hand, Severus suddenly knew how wonderful that feeling was. 

Another day sitting by (Y/n)’s side cemented this feeling and anxiety turned to fear that he would never get the chance to feel that way with her.

As Severus taught his fourth year potions class the next day, his lecture was interrupted by Poppy opening his door. It only took two words for Snape to dismiss his class and disappear down the hall. She’s awake.

(Y/n) had woken up, the heat from her burns gone and the wounds themselves vanished into thin air. She suffered another kind of hurt when Severus burat through the door and hugged her body to his, tighter than she had ever thought possible. 

As he whispered little ‘I love you’s and ‘Don’t leave me’s into her neck (Y/n) smiled and held him close to her responding to his worries and glowing in his love.

Maybe having a crush on your co-worker isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed my lovely readers. Please send in your requests, anon or not, and comment if you can. I do not own Harry Potter, thanks for reading.

[sergeantsporks]

Hey could you do Hunter getting getting injuries treated at the owl house? Like some hurt/comfort. If you want to write a non compliant Hunter that’s be really cool but thanks so much! I just love your owl house fics 🦉🪶

<3 Thank you!

Hunter yawned, the tip of his staff dipping through the air. He pulled himself back up. Just a little further until Bonesborough, and then he could make a pit stop, take a little nap, or at least grab some coffee. He rubbed his eyes. Okay, so maybe he should stop taking quite so many missions. But since he’d returned with the titan’s blood, Belos had been so pleased, and he wanted to keep that going, and obviously there wasn’t anything huge he could do, but if he kept taking all of the little missions, that would probably keep him in a good spot, right?

Hunter shook himself as he started to drift off again. “Bad,” he scolded himself, “Stay awake.”

He heard the sound of wingbeats behind him, and he twisted back. A griffin. Great.

Hunter dove to avoid the bird, but it chased him, shrieking. Probably a new mother. Well, he didn’t intend on being baby food.

Hunter swooped and swerved to the side, just barely dodging a swipe of claws.

If he’d just been a little more alert and less sleepy, he probably would have been able to see and avoid the tailstrike.

As it was, the griffin’s tail caught him right in the chest, knocking him off of his staff.

Hunter screamed as he tumbled through the air, clawing for his staff. His palisman fluttered out of his pocket, grabbing the back of his tunic in its claws and frantically flapping its wings.

It didn’t help much.

He slammed into the top branch of a tree, all of the air leaving his lungs with a whoof as the tree branch cracked under the force of his fall. The world blacked out.

When Hunter came to, it was because everything hurt too much for him to stay out. He groaned. His head felt dizzy, light, and everything ached—but especially his left leg, which throbbed painfully.

Hunter managed to pry his eyes open to see the ground, still far below, his staff too far beyond his reach, and his palisman lying dazed a few branches below.

“Ah!”

Hunter twisted to look up, biting his lip as the movement made his whole body scream in protest. He was hanging upside-down, his left foot caught between two branches. Hunter’s stomach heaved. Feet were… not supposed to bend that way.

Hunter strained to pull himself up and grab the next branch, but the shift made a wave of pain sweep up from his broken foot, and his vision went spotty.

Hunter relaxed, breathing heavily. Okay. This was… this was fine. He could get out of this.

Somehow.

Xxx

“Going to the library for some books, bye, Eda!”

“Uh-huh, yeah, books, sure, say hi to bossy-boots for me.”

Luz raced out the door and down the path, humming to herself. She tripped over a stick, and stumbled forward a few steps, looking back.

Wait.

Luz scooped up the coven staff she’d tripped on, glancing around. “Where…”

A rustle in the trees made her look up to see a very familiar white cloak and golden mask in the trees. Hunter was stuck upside down, and she suppressed a snicker.

“Need some help up there?”

“No! Go away, I’m fine!”

Luz tucked the staff in her belt, climbing up the tree and sitting on a branch next to him, scooping up Lil Rascal on the way. The trail of broken branches above Hunter indicated a pretty long fall. “Uh-huh.” She tugged off his helmet. “Can you even see out of this thing?”

Hunter swiped at her, and then yelped. “Ow! Go away! I don’t need your help!”

Luz examined the branch his foot was caught in. Oh, ow, that looked painful. “Hang on, I got this.”

She slapped a little plant glyph on the tree, and it responded to her, forming a little shelf underneath Hunter. Luz snapped the branch his foot was caught in, and he fell with a little oof to the tree shelf she’d made. Luz climbed down below him, taping a fire glyph to the bottom of the shelf and breaking the shelf, hitting the fire glyph so that it slowly lowered him to the ground.

“I said I didn’t need your help!”

Luz swung down next to him. “You’re welcome.” She held out his staff. “Hey. I know you’re mister independent or whatever, but the Owl House is literally right down the road, and you’re never going to make it back to the keep on your own, so why don’t you just come home with me, and we’ll fix your foot?”

Hunter snatched the staff back, struggling up to his feet and leaning on the staff, keeping his wounded foot up. He looked awful—besides the obvious foot problem, the dark circles under his eyes were so dark they looked like bruises, and his knuckles were white on his staff. “I said I’m fine. I jussssst… need to get to… town.”

He managed to hobble a couple of steps before he fell again, yelping.

“Wow. That’s just sad.” Luz hauled him up, slinging one of his arms around her shoulders and turning around. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

“I doooooon’t… need…”

Hunter struggled weakly against her, but then gave up, going limp, his eyes sliding shut. Luz dragged him along. “Whoof—hey—wake up, you’re heavy!”

Lil Rascal cheeped in her pocket, flapping out and shifting into its staff form, hovering so that Luz could sit Hunter on top of it.

“Trrrrrraitorrrrr,” Hunter slurred, his eyes open just a crack.

Luz pushed him back towards the owl house, pushing open the door with her foot.

“HEY EDA!” she called, “CHANGE OF PLANS FOR TODAY!”

Xxx

Ow. Ow. Ow.

Why did everything have to hurt so much?!

Hunter opened his eyes, staring up at a ceiling.

Wait.

Where was he? He glanced down, the familiar weight of his armor gone. Replaced by a T-shirt that said ‘bad girl coven’ on it

“OOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo, you’re awaaaaaake!”

Hunter yelped, punching the weird bird face. “Augh!”

The bird… worm… thing… drew back. “Ow! Geeeeeeze.”

Hunter sat up so fast he nearly blacked out again. His foot was stuck in a heavy cast, healing patches on it. “Where—oh, no-!” he swung his legs over the side of the couch. “I can’t—I can’t be here, I—”

Xxx

Luz came thumping down the stairs with more healing patches in time to see Hunter try to get up, and then immediately fall back with a groan.

“Ow—ow—ow—ow—”

Luz poked her head over the couch. “Hello!”

Hunter groaned. “Just kill me now.”

Eda stuck her head out of the kitchen, where she was cooking up more explosive potions. “Did I hear that we’re killing the nerd?”

“We’re not killing anyone.” Luz smacked a healing patch on Hunter’s forehead. “Pain patch!”

He tried to get up again, then hissed, sinking back. “I—ow—I can’t—”

“Your foot is broken, Hunter, you can’t go anywhere.” Luz put another patch on his face. “There. That should make it stop hurting.”

Eda snorted. “You know too many of those have a sedative effect, right? They use sleeping nettles to make them.”

Luz twisted back to look at her. “Whoa, really?”

Eda nodded. “See for yourself.”

Luz looked back down at Hunter, whose eyes were already drifting shut. He yawned, glaring at her. “What did… you…”

“Heh. Whoops. Sorry.” Luz squinted at him. “When was the last time you slept, anyway?”

“I don’t—couple of days, I don’t know.”

Luz slapped another pain patch on him. “I take my apology back, GO TO SLEEP!”

Xxx

“Aw, look at him.” Eda poked a sleeping Hunter in the face. “Y’know, he’s actually kind of adorable when he’s not trying to kill us.”

Luz peeled off one of the old healing patches that had lost its magic, applying a new one. “He can be nice. He needs a friend.”

Eda snorted. “Luz, he’s a coven member. I’m sure he has plenty of friends back with all the other Belos-ites.”

“I don’t think he does.” Luz sat on the arm of the couch. “He seemed kind of lonely, like he has no one to talk to. I mean, he’s the head of the coven—who’s he going to talk to that isn’t treating him like their boss?”

“Whoa, hey, there, Luz. He’s fun right now, when he can’t move, but don’t forget that he’s dangerous—he beat the two of us pretty handily, held his own against Kikimora, and Amity just barely got out of her fight with him, and that was when he was stressed out of his mind. I’m not saying he can’t be nice, or that he isn’t lonely, but just… watch your step, okay?”

Luz nodded. “I’ll be careful, Eda, I promise.”

Her mentor gave her a thumbs-up and ran back to the kitchen as smoke billowed from the door. Luz spun Hunter’s helmet in her hands, slipping it on. “Ugh. How does he wear this thing all of the time?” She tugged it back off, setting it down.

“Dooooon’t touch that.”

Luz jumped. Hunter was watching her through bleary, half-closed eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey yourself,” he mumbled crossly, “Why can’t I move?”

Luz winced. “I miiiiiiiight have put a few too many pain patches on you. But you were really hurting!” She poked his shoulder. “Can you feel that?”

“Quit that!”

Luz stuck her tongue out at him. “Eh. Hey, did you know that half of your ribs are broken?” I think your armor probably protected you a little bit, but how high did you fall from?”

He blinked sluggishly. “I don’t know—high.”

“Man.” Luz fidgeted. “Hey, uh, Hunter? Where’d all of those scars come from?”

Hunter closed his eyes again.

“Hey! I know you’re not asleep, Hunter!”

He opened his eyes just a little bit. “They were accidents,” he grumbled, “Satisfied?”

“Accidents?”

“Yeah. Accidents.”

“Even the claw one? What was that an accident of, accidentally antagonizing a bear?”

He closed his eyes again. “Something like that.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, and Luz sighed. “Okay. Hey. I’m sorry. I won’t poke into your personal life anymore.”

He opened one eye. “Really?”

“No,” Luz admitted, “I’m totally going to keep poking into your personal life. But… you don’t have to answer. If you really don’t want to. Oh, hey, you thought the glyph combos were cool, wanna see my new one? Of course you do.”

Luz scribbled down a plant and fire glyph in a circle combo and squeezed it in her hand. A whip made out of fire stretched out, and she cracked it. “Neat, huh!”

“You just lit the floor on fire.”

Luz yelped, stomping on the fire. “Go out, go out, go out!”

Xxx

Hunter snorted, watching Luz struggle to put the fire out, then winced as the snort made his ribs ache. The pain patches must be wearing off.

Luz put out the fire and started chattering about how the glyph combos worked, and how folding origami could make the coolest things.

Hunter drifted off again, still groggy from the patches (and yes, okay, fine, from the all-nighters, too). When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. One single ball of light floated in the middle of the room, sending off a dim nightlight.

Night?!

Oh—he was so late—he would be in so much trouble—maybe he could pretend he was still out doing missions?

Hunter started to sit up, then fell back with a groan. Ow, his ribs.

His palisman chirped sleepily, untucking its head from its wing to blink at him. Someone—probably Luz—had propped his broken foot up with pillows and given him a blanket.

I need… to go back…

But it was warm and comfortable here, and he couldn’t move anyway, and his foot wasn't going to be better for a while, and his eyes were already drifting shut.

But maybe… maybe I can stay a little longer.

[mysdrymmumbles]

Steadfast - October Writing Prompt

Thank you to @toastvogel for suggesting Chyrus. He is the best paragon <3 

..................

The Archon sits on no throne, but even without one, many kyrian often see her as a more distant figure. It is understandable. Even if she wasn’t a god, she is the leader of the realm. By her will is Bastion maintained, and by her hand are the ascended directed. There is more work that goes into doing even those two dealings than most will ever know, and she does so much more than that. It is a wonder she ever has time to address any of her subjects.

In that way, Chyrus can’t help but wonder—hope, really—whether she is at least somewhat protected from some of what is happening right now. She is not at the temples, watching their brethren fall before each other’s blades. She can feel the realm wither around her, in spite of her will, but she cannot see how that crushes the spirits of those relying on her unwavering resolve. She is spared their doubts.

Until those doubts become too powerful.

And then she is blindsided with the betrayal.

Because most anyone else could have seen something like this coming. Perhaps not on such a grand scale, but there were signs, clear as the skies over Bastion.

Chyrus frowns as the sound of a broken chime reaches his ears. With a quick inspection, he finds the culprit underfoot, half crushed under his large toes. Kneeling, he picks them up gingerly, the lute-like chimes tiny in his palm, and the ring they used to hang on broken.

It’s hard to imagine what could have damaged it so. Someone getting thrown into it and their weapon catching it just right? Or had one of their many attackers been so overcome with rage that the sound of the gentle instrument filled them with such animosity that they wanted to make sure they would never play again?

There has been so much heartache in Bastion throughout the eons.

Bastion’s pride is its noble cause, but perhaps it is because he does not cling to such emotion that Chyrus has always been able to see the melancholic undercurrent. The broken hearts sent back to Oribos to be judged anew because they could not relinquish the memories of their mortal lives has always been there. Friends and students alike have ‘fallen short’ over the years. He wonders where they’ve gone, sometimes—those he remembers.

And there are those who have done as was required of them, who sometimes quietly peruse their old memories, watching the foreign stories play out with a quiet resignation that their sacrifice was for the greater good. Still, sacrifices are nothing if they are not mourned from time to time.

As Chyrus peers around to see if there are any other pieces of the little chimes to be gathered—to be given to someone with smaller hands who needs so desperately something to focus on other than the present—the sound of large wings grow closer.

He catches the last bit of pipe beneath his foot as Thenios lands, unintentionally scattering the debris left in the forsworn’s latest attack with his great wings.

Chyrus offers him a word of greeting before picking up the chime. It wouldn’t do to forget it, and even though there was no proof of it, Chyrus has often felt like little objects could have a feel to them. They could know when they are broken and appreciate when they are repaired.

It’s a notion Visephone smiles to think of, and one that Xandria will mull over before irritably asking questions that have no answers. Simple things that cannot be done in front of their charges, but are held precious in those fleeting moments when the paragons are alone together.

This is not going to be such a moment, Chyrus can tell, if only by the thin line of Thenios’ lips.

That doesn’t stop Chyrus from giving him a simple smile himself. “What brings you all the way out here?”

Thenios stands tall and firm, armor shining in Bastion’s radiance.

That in itself makes Chyrus’ heart hurt. Thenios does not don his armor for any occasion.

Or he didn’t. Not before the forsworn, before Devos’ betrayal. Though he would never voice it, Chyrus often suspects that Devos fall from grace affected Thenios the most severely of them all, hitting him harder than even the Archon.

How often had the two visited each other’s temples in casual attire to sprawl out together and read. Thenios usually brought the scrolls and books, and Devos was always pleased to see whatever it was that he had for her. She’d once told him he could make even the driest, most technical of reports sound fascinating.

Chyrus can still remember finding them curled up together, feathers fluffed up as they read through something that wasn’t work related, and how Xandria had hounded them about how adorable they were for weeks after, insisting to Visephone that she had missed something absolutely precious.

When it was just them, of course. When they have those fleeting moments where they can simply be people instead of unyielding leaders.

Thenios hasn’t taken his armor off since Devos’ death.

The paragon motions for Chyrus to follow him, and they both take flight, soaring out into the fields where they will not be overheard.

Their feet have barely touched into the soft grasses when Thenios begins to speak, unable to contain himself any longer. His voice is a mix of its usual matter-of-fact tone used to inspire confidence among his aspirants and something else, something almost accusatory. “The Maw Walker has recovered some records for me. Salvaging what the forsworn are so hasty to destroy in their hunt for whatever they think matters more.”

“We are fortunate to have such help—”

“They brought me this.”

There is nothing particularly noteworthy about the record in Thenios’ palm, but Chyrus knows what it will be before it plays. Funny that he was just remembering this aspirant as he surveyed the damage to his temple. She had been close to ascension when she fell. She came to him, telling him that the path had taken everything from her, made her into someone she didn’t recognize.

She had been the latest in a long line of those who were not meant for the path after all.

Chyrus listens to his own disembodied voice recount the incident and remembers musing about whether there was another way for those within Bastion, a way that didn’t require a complete abandonment of the past.

The reasons for the path’s current route were valid, of course. No good came from ferrymen who judged the souls they collected.

It was a hard path, but it was one that had served them well for almost all of eternity. And if it weren’t for the lack of judgment in Oribos…

Chyrus makes no offer to take the record from Thenios, more than a little sure that if he did try, it would be denied him. Instead, he waits for Thenios to make whatever point he is there for. A chiding perhaps that such a thing was left where aspirants could find it?

“Did she ever talk to you?”

The question is a surprise, a reminder that Chyrus cannot predict everything his fellow paragon will think or do, and it hangs between them.

“No,” Chyrus finally replies. The word feels cruel somehow in its succinctness. “The first—and only—time I heard of Devos’ dissatisfaction with the path was when she told us of Uther’s injury.”

Thenios flinches at her name. No armor can protect him from his memories, and Chyrus has been worried about what will happen to him. Forgetting their fallen brethren will be nigh impossible. Their paths were far too entwined and to take her away would leave him with so much emptiness…

Chyrus has already lost so many, his heart breaks at the mere of thought of who else may fall, of who might be left a shell of their former selves because of hearbreak they can’t overcome.

“She told me.” Thenios voice cracks at the last word. He is quiet a moment before clearing his throat, his composure regained. “I told her to be careful the sort of thing she said.” His chin inclines, gaze skyward. “I did not think…I did not know that you had wondered about this very thing.”

“Haven’t we all?” Chyrus offers gently. None of them are above doubts, after all. He reaches out and lightly places a hand on Thenios’ arm, a connection his friend so clearly needs. The action startles Thenios out of his thoughts.

“If I’d listened…if I had let her talk…hadn’t let her feel so—” Thenios curls his fingers around the record, practically crushing it in his hand as he lowers it to his side, fist shaking. “How could she have… the Jailer.”

His voice cracks again, and this time he stops talking, a tremor in his jaw as he clenches it.

With a quick step, Chyrus reaches out and wraps Thenios in a hug, ignoring the way the bits of armor poke into his bare arms. There is hesitation, and then Thenios grips Chyrus back, clinging to him like a drowning man in a stormy sea.

There is not enough time. There may never be, but here, now, Chyrus is acutely aware of how damaged his friend is and how there are people who need both of them to be unbreakable pillars.

It is cruel that he can offer Thenios so little of his time. Chyrus makes himself a silent vow that he will be there for his friend, to properly mourn what they have lost when things are finally set right.

When Thenios pulls away, a shiver runs through his feathers and for a moment, Chyrus thinks he may take his helm off.

Instead, he takes Chyrus’ hand, surprised to find the tiny bits of broken chimes already there as he places the record among them. “I would hate the forsworn to get this and think you would be a good target to convert.”

Chyrus chooses not to point out that they have already tried. “Thank you, my friend.”

Thenios turns away and then pauses, looking back at him. “If you need someone to listen to your doubts…”

Chyrus wants to tell him that Devos’ fall is not his fault, but there is no way for words to reach, much less ease, the guilt there.  Instead, he gives Thenios a nod and a gentle smile. “Of course.”

Thenios attempts something like a goodbye, but when he can’t trust his voice to hold steady, he instead dismisses himself without ceremony. Chyrus does not insult him by watching his retreat, instead turning his attention back to his temple.

There is much to be done.

[sweetchup]

A Helping Hand: Ghosts of Past // Day 3 ☀️

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 1,700+

Warnings: Angst, Previous Character death, this came out as a much sadder chapter than I meant

Author Note: This will hit all sorts of feels for many people, so I’m not sorry. But, I hope you guys like it anyways.

<—(Pt.4.2) / (Pt.4.3🌙)—>

A Helping Hand Masterlist

The loud sound of purring echoes throughout the room as you scratch and pet at Chloe. Laying in bed, with the sun seen slowly rising up through the windows, you reminisce about last night.

First, it was dancing in the grand ballroom. Well… attempting to dance, If it weren’t for Shalnark and his quick instincts, you surely would have fallen flat on your face and embarrassed yourself. Though, sadly, you two couldn’t dance for long due to his injuries but it wasn’t all that bad.

Instead, you two stood to the side, people watching and having a couple of drinks. Shalnark told you much about Meteor City and his childhood with some of the troupe members. Some were happy memories, others were sad but you were just glad he had told you something about him not many have heard.

Then when it started to get too crowded in the ballroom, Shalnark and you left to check out the many booths in the hallways. You two had great fun doing that; from gawking at the prices to imitating scenes from historical paintings, you just couldn’t stop laughing.

Finally, just when the theater show was about to start in the main auditorium, you were surprised when Shalnark was pushing you forward to another area. Taking you outside the building, he carefully looks over his shoulder before breaking out into a sprint. Racing after him, you are confused as to what is happening until Shalnark stops at a park, plenty away from the building.

—.—.—.—

Looking around as he giggles lightly, you watch curiously as Shalnark pulls a necklace out of his pocket.

“Shal! I swear if you—!”

“Shhh. Shhh” Shalnark hushes you, maneuvering behind you to put the necklace on. “Don’t give us away. I shut down the cameras at the place and on the way but you never know who is around.”

Huffing, you glare down at the necklace around your neck. Perfectly hanging over your bosom layed two sleek iron bats with them cradling a heart encrusted gem in their wings. The gemstone, an expensive pure rose quartz, almost seemed to glow under the bright city lights. You hated to admit it but the necklace was gorgeous.

You sigh to yourself, quickly shaking that thought out of your head, “Shal I can’t have this. You, of all people, should know how rare and expensive pure Rose Quartz is. I could— Hey are you even listening?”

You look appalled as Shalnark simply grabs your hand and begins walking off. Shaking a hand through his gelled back hair, he brushes his hair back into a messy version of its original form.

“What do you think we should grab for dinner (y/n)? I’m pretty hungry.” He asks, his blue eyes seeming to glow brightly even under the city lights.

“Shal I swear—“

—.—.—.—

Suddenly, you feel something warm and heavy lean on your back, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look over your shoulder and huff out a laugh.

“Good morning sleepyhead.” You coo out, reaching up and running one of your hands through Shalnark’s bed head.

“Mornin’” He grunts out, his voice deeper than normal due to just waking up. Shalnark attempts to open his eyes to see but after the sunlight nearly blinds him, he instead chooses to wrap his arms around your waist and nestle his face back into your shoulder. After a couple of more moments of enjoying each other’s presence, you suddenly feel the making of a smile etch it’s way onto Shalnark’s face.

“I see you are still wearing the necklace I gave you.” Shalnark mumbles out, bringing his hand up to play with the necklace in between his fingers.

“Oh shut up.”

Shalnark lets out a hefty chuckle, only to regret it when you start to get up. Letting out a whine, he lets go of the necklace to hold you tight to him as you continue to try to escape, “Don’t Leave! Come on (y/n), don’t you wanna be the Bonnie to my Clyde.”

“Nope.” You pop out, finally wiggling your way out of his grip and sitting up on the bed. Looking down at Shalnark, you can’t help but let out a giggle at his offended expression, “I’ll be the Bethany to your Clyde however.”

“The Bethany to my Clyde?” Shalnark repeats amused as he leans back on his forearms. The sheets falling down to reveal his shirtless chest in the process.

“Yep. Instead of approving and joining you on your risqué thefts like Bonnie…” You pause for a second as you sneakily grab the pillow next to you. “I’ll make sure to scold you real hard!”

With a loud thump, you jump on top of Shalnark and hit him square in the face with a pillow.

It’s quiet for a while not a sound is heard. That is until you eventually break and collapse onto Shalnark’s chest in a fit of giggles. As you are attempting to calm yourself down, Shalnark lifts the pillow off his face and chucks it to somewhere else in the room.

“Well, I would still fin—“ “Mew!”

Before Shalnark can even start his sentence, Chloe cuts him off with a loud call causing you to look over at her. Laying on her side, her tail twitches back and forth wistfully, showing how unhappy she was at the moment.

“Aww are you jealous I’m giving Shalnark more attention to you, Chloe? Come here Baby.” You coo out, getting off of Shalnark to press kisses all over Chloe’s face. All the while, Shalnark scowls as he looks on, clearly jealous that you had left him.

“Thief…” He grumbles out under his breath, already planning ways on stealing you back.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

“I hope Chloe will get along with the other cats alright…” You sighed out, still worried even though it’s barely been over an hour since you dropped Chloe at a local pet day care center.

��It will be okay. It’s better than keeping her trapped in that hotel all day after all.” Shalnark answers with a smile as he swings an arm over your shoulder. He looks around at the area surrounding you two before mumbling under his breath, “Now where was it exactly…”

After walking a little while further down the street, Shalnark suddenly stops.

“Ah! This way.”

Still lost in your thoughts, you unconsciously follow where Shalnark was leading you, not noticing him taking you past a “No trespassing sign” and into a lot full of old abandoned buildings.

It wasn’t until he started to enter one of the buildings, that you even noticed where you were going. Uneasy, you look around you, pausing your search only as he stops in front of a large empty area in the building.

“(Y/n). I would like to introduce you to our troupe hideout.” Shalnark says grandly as he enters, “Well… one of them. We usually change it from place to place.”

Slowly, you take in the room around you, listening lightly as Shalnark talks your ear off. He tells you about where some of the members sat and all the arguments they got to around here.

However, his words soon fade out of your mind as you take notice of something in the corner of the room instead. Walking over carefully, you look down at the many dried up flower petals and burnt out candles. What was this?

“Oh. Damn it, I told Feitan to secure it more carefully.” Shalnark muttered out suddenly, scaring you lightly as you didn’t notice him next to you. You watch curiously as Shalnark fishes through the many flowers. “Ah. There it is.”

You can’t help but feel the breath knocked out of your lungs as you watch what Shalnark pulls up from the petals.

“A cross…” You mumble out agasped. You technically shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you knew one of Shalnark’s members was killed back in the republic of padokea so there could be more. But, at the same time, it felt… almost uncomfortable in a way, standing in front of a grave of someone you didn’t know.

“All… Set.” Shalnark grunts out, securing the cross back in place. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes before Shalnark speaks again. “You know… out of all the troupe members I think Pakunoda would have loved you the most.”

“P…Pardon?”

“Ah. Sorry sorry.” Shalnark mutters, taking a step back before taking a seat in front of the petals. It takes a couple of moments but hesitantly, still unsure if you should, you join him.

“Pakunoda was my designated partner on troupe missions. So, over the years, I got to know her more than most of the members.” Shalnark explains, twiddling one of the petals in his hand. “She was pretty serious about the troupe. Even being so cold at times it would even surprise me. Though… I think that surprise was due to the fact that I knew she had the biggest heart of the troupe…”

Shalnark falls backwards onto the ground, a confused yet also painful look on his face.

“I-I… still don’t understand why she sacrificed herself for the boss. I honestly don’t and not sure if I ever will.”

Sitting there you allow Shalnark’s words to slowly sink into you. You were unsure about what to say especially since you don’t know Pakunoda that well but, at the very least, you knew you had to be there for Shalnark.

Hesitantly, you lay yourself on the cold ground close to Shalnark; Allowing him to hide his face in the crook of your neck. As you begin to run your hand over his back, already feeling it slightly begin to shake under your soothing touch, you think to yourself.

“Shal…” You murmur out, pausing for a second as you stare at the broken stained glass window on the ceiling, “Let’s buy some new flowers for Pakunoda’s grave before we leave. I think… she would appreciate it if we clean it up for her.

You hear Shalnark let out a light chuckle, “Yeah… she would appreciate that a lot. She could be quite the clean freak at times…”

Taglist: @meromelodi, @quartetstarheaven , @yumezai , @lvndrhwis , @writtenappreciation , @jojo-sinner, @pastelbear12 , @aly-kurta , @bbunnycore , @feifood , @akobere7u7 , @aleksa784

[lumosinlove]

Sweater Weather Roster Description:

(So I probably definitely forgot some things. There’s a lot of complicated matching up that went into this. But, regardless, I wanted to post it, so we’ll fix and add as we go! <3)

James Potter: (Pots, Pothead, Potty)

Position: Left Wing, First Line

Number: 7

Years In The League: 7—drafted, no college.

Previous Teams: None

Description: 25. 6’1”. Dark brown hair, hazel eyes, white. Can usually be seen wearing whatever Lily buys him. Known on the team for being a joker, but also someone you can go to for any reason. Hyper.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Boston, MA.

S/O: Girlfriend, Lily Evans.

Closest to on the team: Sirius Black and Sergei Ivanov, but basically everyone.

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: Sirius Black

Lives With: Girlfriend Lily Evans

Injury: Multiple concussions

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Putting his contacts in, because he usually wears glasses, gets him really into the game mode. His favorite food is treacle tart, which he had when he took his girlfriend Lily to England—now she makes it for him on his birthday.

Favorite Moment On Team: When he told them that he and Lily were pregnant and they all celebrated.

Superstition: He has to call his girlfriend, Lily, before every game.

Warm Up Song: Eye of the Tiger

What the announcers say when he scores: “Aaaaannndd Potter is wheeling tonight!!”

~

Sirius Black: (Padfoot, Cap, Captain)

Position: Center, First Line

Number: 12

Years In The League: 6—First pick overall, no college.

Previous Teams: None

Description: 24. 6’3”. Black hair, gray eyes, white. Hair gets really fluffy in humidity and it drives him insane. Short hair, curls above his ears. Loves a good backwards hat. One of the strongest on the team.

Nationality: French-Canadian. Hometown: Montreal, Canada.

S/O: Remus Lupin—secret.

Closest to on the team: James Potter and Adam Fox and William LeBlanc

Rooms With: No One

Sits with on the bus/plane: James Potter

Lives With: No one

Injury: Badly broken ankle, one mild concussion

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He had a very hard time coming up with one, so James chose one for him. He pretends to hate the rookies, but will drop literally everything for anything they need. He’s also really bad at taking his pre-game nap.

(Pascal Dumais from the background: “He does not understand household chores!” “Shut up, Dumo!”)

Favorite Moment On Team: His first game after deciding to stand up to his mother about getting a trade. He could finally relax, and enjoy himself. When he scored the first goal, he let his teammates celebrate with him.

Superstition: There are so many. There are too many. Has to go out onto the ice last, has to have a butter and honey toasted sandwich before the game at 5:00 pm, has to do his stretches in a certain order, has to put on and sharpen his left skate first. Cannot even talk about the Cup without freaking out. Will wear the same gross hat until it literally reeks if they’re on a hot streak.

Warm Up Song: Doesn’t really have one.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Seriously!!! That is one serious goal!!” “That Black back-hander will kill a fella!”

~

Finn O’Hara: (Harzy, Fish)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 17

Years In The League: 3. Went to Harvard College.

Previous Teams: None

Description: 23. 6’0’’. Dark red hair, luscious and fluffy. White. Wavy. Light freckles. Brown eyes. Is a single eyebrow raiser. Habit of saluting. More on the slender side of muscle. Is a bit of a worry-wart. Super sarcastic.

Nationality: American. Hometown: New York, New York.

S/O: June Calder—sort of.

Closest to on the team: Logan Tremblay and Leo Knut and Olli Halla

Rooms With: Timmy Jones

Sits with on the bus/plane: Kasey Winter

Lives With: Leo Knut

Injury: Two bad concussions in college.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He wanted it to be that he’s real fucking good in bed, but it’s that he likes eating grilled cheese with strawberry jam because his older brother, Alexander, used to make it for him all the time when they were kids.

Favorite Moment On Team: Probably that one team dinner where Blizzard got drunk and tried to swim in a fountain. Or when he found out that Logan also got drafted to the Lions the year after him.

Superstition: Has to have a grilled cheese and strawberry jam before every game. Has to tape his own sticks on the bench. Has a handshake with Logan they do before walking down the tunnel.

Warm Up Song: Hollaback Girl, Gwen Stefani

What the announcers say when he scores: “OOOOOOOO’HARA HOW DARA!! WHAT A GOAL!”

~

Timmy Jones: (Timmers)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 62

Years In The League: 10. Went to Boston University

Previous Teams: New York Islanders

Description: 31. 6’1”. Black hair, braided, reaches his shoulders and he likes to tie it up sometimes, hazel eyes. Black. One of the most popular jerseys because he’s such a crowd pleaser always riling them up and talking to fans through the glass. He’s also one of the biggest Instagram users and is always posting really funny locker room videos.

Nationality: Canadian. Vancouver, Canada.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Olli Halla and William LeBlanc and Thomas Walker

Rooms With: Finn O’Hara

Lives With: Olli Halla

Sits with on the bus/plane: Olli Halla

Injury: Fractured foot a few years ago.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Kasey’s rival for best hair in the league. Famous for his crazy cellys

Favorite Moment On Team: Conference Finals! And when all the boys touch Moody’s leg for good luck.

Superstition: Has a lucky towel that no one is allowed to wash.

Warm Up Song: Where are Ü Now, Jack Ü, Skrillex, Justin Bieber

What the announcers say when he scores: Timmers strikes again!!

~

Olli Halla: (Olli)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 5

Years In The League: 10, Undrafted.

Previous Teams: Winnipeg Jets.

Description: 6’2”. 32. Very, very blonde hair, nearly white. Pale blue eyes. Cute little nose. Cannot grow a beard to save his life. Total baby-face. Is sort of shy and awkward. What a sweetheart.

Nationality: Finish. Hometown: Helsinki, Finland.

S/O: Single.

Closest to on the team: Timmy Jones and Finn O’Hara

Rooms With: Elias Cook

Lives With: Timmy Jones

Sits with on the bus/plane: Timmy Jones

Injury: Concussion, twice. A few bruised ribs.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Wins the pre-game team kick-around almost every time. Brings awareness to charities that contribute to doing research on the brain and brain injuries. 

Favorite Moment On Team: When the team welcomed him back from his pretty serious concussion (he missed nearly a year) by all wearing the number 5 out on the ice during warm ups.

Superstition: Wears his cross and says a small prayer after the national anthem. Also has to play in the kick-around.

Warm Up Song: Replay, Iyaz

What the announcers say when he scores: (G)oooooolllliiiii!

~

Brady Smith: (Smitty)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 92

Years In The League: 10. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Washington Capitals

Description: 28, 6’3”. Black hair, blue eyes. Black. The sweetest person you will ever meet in your life. Is adored by all of the hockey wives and girlfriends. Can speak Spanish and (ofc) German. Has a tattoo he has on his back shoulder blade of the Stanley Cup which he won with the Washington Capitals. The cup says his wife and two kid’s names on it with room for more—this man loves his babies.

Nationality: German. Hometown: Berlin, Germany, where his mother is from, but moved to the Boston, MA when he was 15 years old—where his father is from.

S/O: Married to his wife Allison, and they’re expecting their third child. Their first is a boy named Max, their second a boy named Noah.

Closest to on the team: Evgeni Kuznetsov and Jackson Nadeau.

Lives With: His family

Sits with on the bus/plane: Evan Kane

Rooms With: Evan Kane

Injury: Frequently separates his shoulder :(

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He’s part of the Lions’ power play. Is actually a really good tattoo artist and has inked Kris Lavolie and Evgeni Kuznetsov. He gave Kris the date of his daughter’s birth, and he gave Evgeni a tiger on his left bicep.

Favorite Moment On Team: He really loved when Sirius became Captain. He felt a shift in their team’s drive.

Superstition: Has to read the note his son wrote him a few years ago.

Warm Up Song: Anything Drake

What the announcers say when he scores: Braaaddyyy Smith! What a goal!

~

Pascal Dumais: (Dumo)

Position: Center

Number: 9

Years In The League: 24, drafted first overall.

Previous Teams: New York Rangers, Colorado Avalanche.

Description: 41. 6’1’’. Brown hair, cut pretty short but brushes up at the front or superman curl.  White. Hazel/green eyes, dark eyelashes and brows. Scruffy beard always. Is the dad of the team. Well tell anyone who asks the hilarious stories of when Sirius lived with him.

Nationality: French Canadian. Hometown: Montreal.

S/O: Celeste Dumais, wife. And four children. Adele (13), Louis (10), Marc (9), and Katie (7).

Closest to on the team: Logan Tremblay and Sergei Ivanov.

Lives With: His wife and four kids—and Logan of course.

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: No one, he enjoys the peace and quiet (not that anyone gives him any)

Injury: Broken wrist. Bruised ribs. Mild concussion. Lost too many teeth to count.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: The BIGGEST prankster on the team. Loves fine wine.

Favorite Moment On Team: Whenever the crowd chants “Duuummmooooo,” or the first time Sirius smiled.

Superstition: Slaps Sergei’s ass before they walk down the tunnel. No one knows why.

Warm Up Song: Eight Days A Week by The Beatles

What the announcers say when he scores: "Pascal Dumais everybody! One of the oldest in the league—he’s still got it!”

~

Logan Tremblay: (Tremzy, [Finn: Lo])

Position: Right Wing

Number: 10

Years In The League: 2. Went to Harvard College.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 22. 5’9’’. Dark brown hair, long enough to be wavy and always wearing a snapback. Green eyes. Light freckles. White. Always sinfully tan. Really broad and strong. Those arms and chest muscles damn. Really dark, long eyelashes. Clean shaven. Really loud, always mildly grumpy. Flirts with EVERYTHING. 

Nationality: French Canadian. Hometown: Rimouski, Quebec, Canada.

S/O: Single…..

Closest to on the team: Leo Knut, Finn O’Hara, and Pascal Dumais, Thomas Walker.

Lives With: Pascal Dumais

Rooms With: Leo Knut

Sits with on the bus/plane: Leo Knut

Injury: He broke a finger and a foot and frequently has black eyes from fights.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Has a fleur-de-lis necklace that he never takes off. Spends his summers in Nice, France where his mother is from. Bites his nails.

Favorite Moment On Team: Playing with Finn again.

Superstition: Says he isn’t superstitious but he is. Won’t touch the kick-around soccer ball before he decides to play. Has a handshake with Finn they do before walking down the tunnel.

Warm Up Song: Whatever It Takes, Imagine Dragons.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Scooorree!!! Oh, the tremble before Tremblay!”

~

Thomas Walker: (Talker, Walkie-Talkie)

Position: Defenseman —also an enforcer.

Number: 43

Years In The League: 8. University of Wisconsin.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 30, 6’2”. Short hair, brown eyes, one of the most ripped guys on the team. Black. Pierced ears, usually small gold hoops. Takes them out for play. The Lions organization does a segment with him called Walkie-Talkie where he goes around the locker room and interviews his team mates with funny questions.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Chicago, IL.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Timmy Jones and Adam Fox and Logan Tremblay.

Lives With: No one

Rooms With: Adam Fox.

Sits with on the bus/plane: Anyone who wants to CHAT.

Injury: Broken foot, some broken fingers.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He got his nickname Talker because he never shuts up on the ice. Starts a lot of fights. 

Favorite Moment On Team: When Kasey jumped in the fountain.

Superstition: Needs to take a three minute nap between periods. He puts a towel over his head right in his stall and literally falls asleep for three minutes. (James: it’s fucking weird”)

Warm Up Song: Top hits, just needs the background noise.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Goal!!! He just walks right up there, don’t he?”

~

Sergei Ivanov: (Vans)

Position: Defenseman 

Number: 55

Years In The League: 23, Drafted, no college.

Previous Teams: Pittsburgh Penguins, Colorado Avalanche, Vegas Golden Knights.

Description: 40. 5’11”. Light brown-gray hair—was blonde, losing it at the front a little.  White. Really stern blue eyes that transform and crinkle when he smiles (but it’s hard to get a real smile out of him, and the boys feel really accomplished when they do).

Nationality: Russian. Hometown: Omsk.

S/O: Anya. They have three daughters: Aleandra (10), Evenlina (8), and Katya (7).

Closest to on the team: Kris Lavolie and Pascal Dumais and James Potter

Lives With: His wife and children.

Rooms With: No one.

Sits with on the bus/plane: Kris Lavolie.

Injury: Shoulder injury

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Loves classical music

Favorite Moment On Team: One of his daughters was born the same night he got his first hat-trick. Some of the team came to the hospital with him.

Superstition: Stops at a Church on his way to the rink everyday for a few quiet moments.

Warm Up Song: He doesn’t have one, he prefers to talk to everyone instead.

What the announcers say when he scores: SERGEI SCORES!

~

Jackson Nadeau: (Nado)

Position: Left Wing

Number: 58

Years In The League: 8. Went to College but didn’t finish.

Previous Teams: Chicago Blackhawks 

Description: 26, 6’0”. Dark brown hair, chin length and straight, blue eyes. White. Is very laid back and a big flirt. Has cheek bones that could kill and a very stark scar running down one of them from a skate in the face.

Nationality: French Canadian. Victoria, Canada.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Evgeni Kuznetsov and Brady Smith

Lives With: Evgeni Kuznetsov

Rooms With: Evgeni Kuznetsov

Sits with on the bus/plane: Evgeni Kuznetsov

Injury: Skate to the face, other minor things.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Rival with Evgeni for most pick ups on the team. Has many tattoos—one full sleeve, working on the other.

Favorite Moment On Team: Probably when Evgeni got traded, he found his best friend.

Superstition: Has a handshake with Evgeni.

Warm Up Song: He won’t tell you up front but Hamilton.

What the announcers say when he scores: Rapidly repeating “Nadeau, Nadeau, Nadeau!!!”

~

Evgeni Kuznetsov: (Kuny)

Position: Center. Enforcer.

Number: 86

Years In The League: 10. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Anaheim Ducks, Calgary Flames, Buffalo Sabres.

Description: 27. 6’4”. Short cropped light brown hair and puppy-dog brown eyes. Has a slightly chipped front left tooth. White. Very heavy Russian accent, doesn’t speak perfect English and uses this fact to get out of interviews. Is very charming. Literally a giant.

Nationality: Russian. Magnitogorsk, Russia. 

S/O: Single and ready to mingle—or already does mingle. Excessively.

Closest to on the team: Brady Smith and Jackson Nadeau

Lives With: Jackson Nadeau 

Rooms With: Jackson Nadeau

Sits with on the bus/plane: Jackson Nadeau

Injury: Had to have knee surgery.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Will tell you he has the most pick-ups on the team, but it might be Nado. He’s always making jokes in Russian that basically only Sergei and Henrik can understand and Sergei just rolls his eyes while Henrik laughs.

Favorite Moment On Team: He loves team dinners, just hanging out with the guys.

Superstition: Has a handshake with Jackson.

Warm Up Song: BLASTS Russian rap.

What the announcers say when he scores: THE RUSSIAN BEAR STRIKES AGAIN!

~

Evan Kane: (Kaner)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 51

Years In The League: Two. Went to College at Boston University.

Previous Teams: Calgary Flames.

Description: 23. 5’11”. Tan skin with freckles and brown eyes, black, short hair. Hispanic. Super strong and holds lots of team workout records. The brightest smile. Eyebrows on point. Loves to read, was an English major at school.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Boston, MA.

S/O: His girlfriend, Caroline Hall.

Closest to on the team: Brady Smith and Elias Cook, and Leo Knut

Lives With: His girlfriend.

Rooms With: Brady Smith

Sits with on the bus/plane: Brady Smith

Injury: Nothing major up to date.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Wicked fast. One of the fastest in the League.

Favorite Moment On Team: Probably meeting Pascal Dumais. He’s looked up to his playing style for a long time.

Superstition: Tapes his own sticks, sharpens his own skates.

Warm Up Song: Eminem

What the announcers say when he scores: “Yes he Kane!!!”

~

Adam Fox: (Foxy, Sexy)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 32.

Years In The League: 19. Drafted.

Previous Teams: New York Islanders.

Description: 36. 6’2”. White. Light brown hair that pushes up at the front and is shaved close at the sides. Blue eyes that will kill you. 

Nationality: American. Hometown: Boston, MA. 

S/O: Girlfriend, Lucìa Perez.

Closest to on the team: Thomas Walker and Sirius Black

Lives With: His girlfriend.

Rooms With: Thomas Walker

Sits with on the bus/plane: Elias Cook

Injury: Nothing too serious.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Is constantly made fun of for being the prettiest. Ever.

Favorite Moment On Team: Bringing his girlfriend to her first game.

Superstition: Stretches in a certain order.

Warm Up Song: They boys will tell you it’s SexyBack but it’s actually just heavy metal.

What the announcers say when he scores: “A foxy goal!!”

~

Henrik Sunqvist: (Sunny, Sunshine)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 33

Years In The League: 10. Played in the Swedish league for a while.

Previous Teams: None in the NHL.

Description: 39. 5’11”. Blond hair, cut short, pale blue eyes, white. Warmest smile you’ve ever seen. 

Nationality: Swedish. Hometown: Uppsala.

S/O: Linnea Sunqvist, his wife and their daughter and son, Maja (10) and Hugo (11).

Closest to on the team: Evander Bell

Lives With: His wife and family.

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: Likes to sit alone with a nice audiobook sometimes.

Injury: Nothing major, a few minor concussions

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Almost never fights, but when he does…ouch. Can speak French and Russian.

Favorite Moment On Team: When he gets to morning practice and has coffee with the boys.

Superstition: Has to do a few somersaults in the locker room—we don’t know why.

Warm Up Song: Russian rap—no one knows why/how he knows Russian so well.

What the announcers say when he scores: “The sun is shining on Sunqvist!"

~

Elias Cook: (Cookie, Crock-pot) 

Position: Left Wing

Number: 29

Years In The League: 7. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Toronto Maple Leafs

Description: 25. 5’11”. Hazel eyes, Black hair, baby curls so cute we love the curls. 

Nationality: Canadian. Toronto.

S/O: Fiancee, Jamie Barrow.

Closest to on the team: Kasey Winter

Lives With: Jamie.

Rooms With: Olli Halla

Sits with on the bus/plane: Adam Fox

Injury:

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Loves spicy food. Once made Sirius cry by daring him to eat some really spicy dish.

Favorite Moment On Team: Listening to ABBA in the locker room.

Superstition: Does a few laps around the hallways. The press love to try to catch him for interviews while he’s doing this.

Warm Up Song: iSpy, KYLE and Lil Yachty

What the announcers say when he scores: “The stove is HOT for Cook tonight!”

~

William LeBlanc: (Bluey)

Position: Center

Number: 44

Years In The League: 3. Drafted.

Previous Teams: SKA Saint Petersburg.

Description: 24 6′1″. Brown hair, wavy, green eyes. White. Goes to Russia during his summers.

Nationality: French Canadian. Sherbrooke. 

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Tyler Wright, Sirius Black.

Lives With: No one

Rooms With: Kris Lavolie

Sits with on the bus/plane: Tyler Wright

Injury: Concussion.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Never learned Russian well, despite playing in the KHL. 

Favorite Moment On Team: When Kasey jumped in the fountain.

Superstition: Has to touch all the boys’ names above their stalls

Warm Up Song: Russian rap.

What the announcers say when he scores: LeGOALLLLL

~

Evander Bell: (Ringer)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 21

Years In The League: 15. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Bruins, Red Wings.

Description: 33. 6’3”. Sandy blond hair and brown eyes. White. Pretty shy, but really kind. Laughs really loudly which then makes himself blush.

Nationality: American. Hometown: L.A.

S/O: His fiancee, Emily.

Closest to on the team: Henrik Sunqvist

Lives With: Emily and his son, Xavier.

Rooms With: None

Sits with on the bus/plane: Likes to sit alone, besides joining the card game.

Injury: Broken wrist.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Can play the guitar and the piano. Is one of the team’s biggest You Can Play ambassadors (Pascal and Sergei are the other two most active). Always goes to the Gryffindor pride parade.

Favorite Moment On Team: The entire locker room singing We Are Never Getting Back Together. Beginning to see hearts on the glass at the team’s You Can Play Night.

Superstition: Wears the same hat and socks. 

Warm Up Song: Taylor Swift. 

What the announcers say when he scores: “A dead Ringer from Evander Bell!”

~

Kris Lavolie: (Volley)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 11

Years In The League: 3. Went to University of Michigan.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 24, 6’1”. Dark hair that’s straight and falls to about his chin, brown eyes. White. Broadly built. Kind and a really good listener.

Nationality: French Canadian. Hometown: Quebec City.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Sergei Ivanov

Lives With: His daughter, Aveline.

Rooms With: William LeBlanc

Sits with on the bus/plane: Sergei Ivanov

Injury: Broken rib.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Kris is a single dad. One of his best friends, Lee, she takes care of his baby girl who is four now while he’s on the road. Sometimes she gets to go stay with Sergei’s family, too. Sergei helps him so much, and he’s thankful for him <3. His daughter’s name is Aveline and he will do ANYTHING for her.

Favorite Moment On Team: Taking his daughter to the Lions’ family skate for the first time.

Superstition: Talk to/call his daughter before every game.

Warm Up Song: XO, Beyoncé

What the announcers say when he scores: “La gooaaaaallll by Lavolie!!”

~

Tyler Wright: (Wrangler)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 8

Years In The League: 

Previous Teams:

Description: 27. 6’2”. Hair that is shoulder length, really dark brown. Blue eyes. Square jaw. Has a bit of a temper on the ice, but is a sweetheart otherwise. Ironically doesn’t like fighting.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Minnesota, Minneapolis.

S/O: His girlfriend, Elsa, who lives in Sweden and is a professional football/soccer player.

Closest to on the team: William LeBlanc

Lives With: No one

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: William LeBlanc

Injury: Nothing serious.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Has four dachshunds named Puck, Deke, Gordie, and Stanley.

Favorite Moment On Team: Like many, when Kasey jumped into that fountain. “It was just so fuckin’ out of character, you know?”

Superstition: Has to participate in the kick around, and has to kick the ball last with his right foot.

Warm Up Song: Royals, Lorde.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Wright in the net!”

~

Kasey Winter: (Kase, Blizzard)

Position: Goalie

Number: 30

Years In The League: 8 years. Drafted, no college.

Previous Teams: New York Rangers.

Description: 26. 6’2’’. Light brown hair down to his shoulders. Known for being the most beautiful hair in the league. Softest brown eyes that psych shooters out. Grows a really gorgeous beard whenever the fuck he wants. 

Nationality: Canadian. Home town: Ontario, Canada.

S/O: Girlfriend, Natalie Darcy

Closest to on the team: Elias Cook and Kris Lavolie

Lives With: His girlfriend, Natalie.

Rooms With: No one.

Sits with on the bus/plane: Finn O’Hara

Injury: Torn hamstring.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Will have his girlfriend braid his hair for practice sometimes. (“You can say what you want, but keeps it out of my face. Good old boxer braids. It’s where it’s at.”)

Favorite Moment On Team: When the team got to the Conference Finals seven years ago.

Superstition: Has to do stretches in a certain order.

Warm Up Song: Wasabi by Little Mix (Thanks, Natalie)

What the announcers say when he makes a safe: “The Blizzard is blinding!” “It’s a squall!”

~

Leo Knut: (Nut, Knutty, Peanut, Peanut-butter)

Position: Goalie

Number: 1

Years In The League: His rookie season, so almost one. No college.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 18. 6’3’’. Dark blond Hair, pretty wavy and falls over his forehead. Blue eyes. Button nose. Blond eyelashes. Cannot grow a beard to save his life.

Nationality: American. Hometown: New Orleans, Louisiana.

S/O: None….;)

Closest to on the team: Logan Tremblay and Finn O’Hara and Evan Kane

Lives With: Finn O’Hara

Rooms With: Logan Tremblay

Sits with on the bus/plane: Logan Tremblay

Injury: Nothing major.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Has a small gray-streaked patch of hair by the front of his head from hitting his head really hard when he was little.

Favorite Moment On Team: Well, the first moment he felt most at home was when the rest of the boys started imitating his accent. Logan is the worst at it, but he does it the most.

Superstition: Not very superstitious…yet.

Warm Up Song: Violet, Bad Suns and Love On Top by Beyoncé

What the announcers say when he saves a puck: “Another nuts save for Knut!” “We’re nuts about Knut!” “Right in the nuts!”

[mamahersh]

The Road to Hell (is Paved with Good Intentions) Chapter 7

“Season 8 was well underway, and the server’s first conflict is bubbling just under the surface. But BDoubleO can’t worry about that right now because he has an Etho to find so they can work on the Horse Course together. However when Xisuma calls a surprise server meeting on behalf of EvilXisuma, BDubs gets his answers about where Etho’s been in the worst way possible.”

(CW: angst, mild torture)

Chapter rating: T

Nice long conclusion chapter to make up for the short one yesterday! From BDubs view, plus nHo hurt/comfort (emphasis on comfort)!

As in all the previous chapter posts, if you’ve enjoyed the ride I took direct inspiration from this oneshot on AO3! Please give them some love and appreciation.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

It had taken days before Xisuma figured out what EX had done to the server that had caused the respawns to break in the way that it had, and how to fix it. However, figure it out and fix the problem he did, and with respawn mechanics back to normal, everyone who had died and respawned during the glitch was able to reset their health completely. And properly set their respawn points as well, since part of the glitch seemed to be that people’s respawns were being set as they were dying. But the biggest adjustment in the days after EX had caused havoc was trying to help Etho recover.

While Etho seemed relatively ok once he was able to talk again (his tongue and all his other lingering injuries were fully healed with the fixing of the respawn, though figuring out a way to get him to respawn was both more difficult and less difficult than BDubs had expected); BDubs was hearing from Iskall that all was still not right with the world. Normally, Hermits would let current season basemates/regional allies/faction mates do the heavy lifting of any emotional or mental stress that a particular Hermit experienced on the daily unless the Hermit asked for help from specific Hermits. But in this case, BDubs felt he should invite Etho to an nHo reunion/get-together. Even if Etho didn’t necessarily need the reunion, BDubs knew the rest of the nHo did. 

They had all been in various states of hysterics by the time they had gotten Etho out of the restraints and the death loop he had been locked in. BDubs had been the first person to breach the room, with Iskall and Beef right behind him. Beef had blocked up the water to stop the cycle as Iskall and a recently arrived Cleo began breaking restraints while BDubs clutched Etho’s freed hand (thinking back, he probably shouldn’t have. Etho’s hands had looked hardly better than the rest of his mangled flesh. He also wasn’t sure how they managed to get his wrists detached from the cuffs, as his arms and wrists were still solidly clipping into the restraints). Hypno had fiddled with the camera and looked over the speakers, before he managed to get everything deactivated and convinced the remaining Hermits to gather at Cleo and Joe’s base. By the time the Hermits were assembled at Joe and Cleo’s base, and Etho had been safely transported from the floating box, Doc was a hissing mess, Beef was greener than normal as his stress seemed to activate the alien transition, and BDubs had resorted to constantly checking his clock (a nervous habit he had picked up from 3rd Life, but the less he thought about that hell server the better). Etho had been quickly whisked away by Iskall to their shared base, but was just as quickly relocated to the Spawn Egg; as neither had wings, and Etho wasn’t nearly healthy enough to try and scale his own base in the sky. Plus, being at the Spawn Egg had the added benefit of easy access by the rest of the server so that other Hermits could stop by and check in on Etho’s progress while they all waited for Xisuma to fix the respawn mechanics. BDubs stopped by once while Etho was recovering. It was a little out of his way when trying to visit the Yes Wings Club, but figured he might as well since he hadn’t seen Etho since they had saved him 2 days before. 

Etho looked about what he had expected to be honest. Since they were worried about whether a normal respawn would register his tongue being gone as normal if they healed it properly with potions, the other Hermits had determined to wait on healing him till after he had properly respawned. That left him bedridden till the server was fixed though, which no one was happy with. BDubs was told later that supposedly Etho had understood during the few times he was lucid enough to listen to someone during that time. While he had been there though, Etho had been solidly asleep, Iskall asleep himself by Etho’s bedside. BDubs had taken a moment anyway to sit on Etho’s other side and just quietly talk to him about what he had been up to in the day or two since they had saved him. Iskall had come to briefly to see who had been talking, before settling back into his chair to rest.

BDubs had left pretty quickly, if he were being honest. Seeing Etho as vulnerable as he was left BDubs feeling a bit ill. After that, it had only been a day or two more of anxiously waiting for Xisuma to fix the server before they had been able to get the other Hermits respawned properly. (There had been several deaths during the time the respawns had been on the fritz, including a couple during the search from fall damage.) But when it came to Etho, they had tried to explain what needed to happen during one of the next times he was awake, but he had been becoming more unresponsive the longer he had been bedbound. So with heavy hearts, it had been decided that Etho needed to respawn as soon as they could decide a way to do so. After much debate between Iskall and Xisuma, it was decided that a quick anvil to the head would suffice.

It was told to BDubs later that Etho had respawned a few paces from the bed he had been sleeping in at Spawn looking incredibly confused and lost. It took close to a half hour to explain what had happened to him before him and Iskall went back to their shared base. And if Iskall was to be believed, it sounded like Etho hadn’t slept since the first night back. Which was almost a week ago. Not that many of the other Hermits were doing better. From the sounds of the grapevine, Mumbo still blamed himself for what had happened to Etho, and despite apologizing and promising Etho a cut of all his profits that season to make up for his decision (which he had been told Etho had forgiven Mumbo for and told Mumbo to keep the profits as he was just respecting Etho’s choice) he insisted on trying to find ways to make it up to an increasingly exasperated Etho. (Which BDubs noted was somewhat out of character, since Etho almost never missed a chance to keep someone in his debt and exploit them for his own projects). Other than Mumbo, Doc had been reported also to not have been sleeping as much, but instead he worked on his most recent engineering marvel. Beef had been throwing himself almost entirely into setting up his own shop outside the Derpcoin market to sell his own brand of non-evil cat food. BDubs knew that Beef was taking the whole: “Derpcoin is actually evil not even a meme” thing incredibly hard, since his whole thing this season had been going over to the dark-side as an alien (which BDubs still didn’t understand how that had started in the first place). BDubs himself was doing just fine thank you very much! Sure, he’d been struggling with sleeping at night himself (every time he closed his eyes he could see Etho strapped to that chair and drowning again), and yeah, he’d been trying to work on the shopping district by the mountain instead of the Horse Course (he had heard from Iskall that Etho had been working on something outside the base, and BDubs had a sneaking suspicion he knew at least one of the projects Etho’d been working on). But he definitely wasn’t nearly as bad as the other members of the old nHo. Definitely. He couldn’t lie to himself, they were all having a bad time. 

So, as BDubs was wont to do, he took things into his own hands and sent invitations to all the nHo members to come by his base for a get together. The date was set, and he visited every member in person leading up to the event to make sure they were coming, no excuses! (He knew it was particularly urgent as when he went to check on Etho, he finally found him sleeping in one of BDubs’ builds next to the horse course, and when he got Etho awake, he cracked exactly 0 height jokes until he tried to get Etho to come by later and it was a height joke every minute. The height jokes were BDubs’ way of figuring out how nicely Etho wanted to play. The less the better.)

But now the day had finally arrived, and BDubs welcomed each one of his friends into his base with open arms and a smile. First to arrive was Beef, seeing as he was closest. Then Doc. Then as BDubs was debating messaging Iskall to find Etho for him, the man himself showed up on BDubs’ doorstep. Everything went off without a hitch in the beginning. They all were able to reconnect and chat about bases and projects they were working on; Doc with his redstone magic he was getting from his friends on another server, Beef and his efforts to create a new kind of cat food, Etho and his many projects ranging from an inventory sorter to the horse course, and BDubs with his latest shop attempts in the Big Eye Crew shopping district. (It was good to see Etho making fun of BDubs’ attempts at making a redstone shop. Etho hadn’t heard of it yet, and it was a delight to see him light up while joking about what BDubs could possibly make with redstone that even someone like Grian couldn’t do themselves.)

It all comes crashing down when Etho asks Beef more about the cat food. Specifically what was wrong with the old cat food. 

Now Beef hadn’t expressly said that he had been working with EX for having a cat food stand at the Evil Emporium; but he had implied that his previous cat food flavor would be going on the back burner. What they all had assumed was that Etho at least generally knew most of the gossip on the server. But what BDubs should have guessed was that Etho had been very absent this season, and unless the current events were directly affecting his plans, he had never been one for being up to date on server events. So BDubs should have guessed that Etho asking about cat food would only end in a bittersweet ending.

“So Beefers, you said something about your cat food getting a new recipe… What happened with the old recipe? Not up to snuff?”

“I will have you know that all my cat food is premium and delicious, and I will not have you slandering it in this way,” replied an overdramatic Beef. 

The nHo chuckled at his antics before Etho came back with, “Well if it wasn’t the quality then what was it? Now you have me intrigued.”

Beef shrugged. “I just wanted a cat food to really call my own is all.”

Etho gave him a look. “Wouldn’t the other cat food be yours too?”

“Well…” Beef looked deeply conflicted. BDubs decided to say it for him. “He was working for the Evil Emporium since he started to change into… I guess it’s an alien?”

Etho stilled at the name, and the rest of the group held their breaths. “Ah,” he replied, suddenly tight as a bowstring.

“Which is why I’m making a new brand of cat food, one which I’ll be selling from a shop near my base for diamonds,” soothed Beef, trying his best to keep Etho away from bad memories.

“I can see why you changed brands then,” replied Etho through a forced calm. He was not subtle in the least however. Bdubs wondered if the hurt in Etho's eyes was from the idea that his closest friend had supported the monster that had hurt him, or the idea that his friend would completely change his plans for the season due to one off script incident? Bdubs had a feeling it was definitely the former.

(BDubs had asked Xisuma after all was said and done if he remembered anything leading up to them being in front of the screen at his base. X had said the last thing he had remembered before that was meeting up with EvilX to discuss business strategies before blacking out after their customary greetings. He explained it had happened before, but he had somehow never thought much of the memory gaps. However, he agreed with the rest of the Hermits that had talked with him about it that it was a problem that would need to be investigated because it sounded like mind control. And a player that could control the server admin was a force too powerful to allow free. Or at the very least, a player that needed to have some very hard limits as to what they could do placed upon them.)

“You know, Etho, have you been ok?” asked Doc hesitantly. BDubs hoped that Doc knew what he was doing, because Bdubs was definitely lost.

Etho looked a bit like a cornered animal at the moment as he looked between the 3 of them like they had betrayed him. “Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?”

Doc gave him a look that BDubs thought was completely justified. “Etho, you went through an incredibly traumatic experience only a week or so ago. It is completely fine if you aren't doing ok.”

Etho sighed. “And what would you even do if I wasn't ok?”

Doc gave a hissy whine and moved from where he had been situated to sit close beside Etho. “Well, we'd figure out what we can do to make it a little closer to being ok.” He looked down at his lap. “I know I've been struggling with sleep recently, so I understand at least if you aren't sleeping either.” Etho looked vaguely stricken.

“You were part of the group that was watching, weren't you?” BDubs watched as Etho began to close off. Doc just nodded miserably. “And the two of you?”

BDubs felt gutted, knowing that Etho either didn't remember him breaking in to save him and holding his hand; or was purposefully ignoring the memory. “I stopped you from drowning more by blocking up the source block...” muttered Beef, looking pretty hurt himself.

“I found your enclosure and got the search party together to come finish breaking you out; and was there next to Beef when he was saving you,” finished Bdubs, a bit more of the hurt shining through because he couldn't hold a poker face even if his life depended on it. But also, Etho needed to see that he wasn't alone, in a lot of ways.

Etho looked appropriately chastised, if also incredibly grateful. “Thank you, all of you.” He leaned lightly into Doc's shoulder; the most affection he would normally show to anyone. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you 3, so thank you. Thank you so much.” They all politely ignored the sniffling coming from behind the mask, though Beef situated himself on Etho’s other side, and BDubs decided to try and strategically place himself on the floor in front of Beef so that if Etho wanted to lean a leg against him, he could. BDubs was so tempted to drape himself over Etho’s legs, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Etho probably wouldn’t handle being immobile in a sitting position well for the foreseeable future. However he was vindicated when his hair was playfully ruffled by an Etho hand as the 4 of them devolved into just sitting with each other. 

BDubs should have guessed that Etho wouldn’t stay down long however, as Etho (after inconspicuously wiping the corners of his eyes dry) said, “so, who wants to help me prank the Boatem Crew?” BDubs could feel the devious smile creeping across his face.

“Now you’re speaking my language Canada boy!” Etho wheezed a quiet laugh above him. 

“You sure you want to be slinging that kind of slander at me short stuff?”

“SHORT STUFF?!?!” BDubs got up in a huff. “I’LL SHOW YOU SHORT STUFF, YOU DAMN BEAN POLE!” Beef, Etho, and Doc all burst into chuckles, leaning into the couch as they tried to get themselves under control. “YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, DO YOU? Ooooooh, you are all playing a dangerous game!”

Etho and Doc proceeded to laugh harder, leaning against each other. “What are you going to do BDubs, bite our ankles?” asked Beef before breaking down laughing again. 

“I’LL BITE YOUR ANKLES JUST WATCH ME!” and with that, BDubs was all over Beef, trying to get a solid shoulder punch in, but being thwarted at every turn. A stray punch at Doc, and suddenly everyone but Etho was rolling around the floor trying to playfully murder each other. Etho wheezed in laughter at their antics, and expertly avoided getting added into their mischief by eventually hopping up a ladder to the next floor and watching from the opening.

Eventually they managed to settle down, and by the time they had gathered themselves enough, it was night time. BDubs, with a lighter heart than when he had let in all his friends earlier in the day, said goodbye to them with promises that if Etho really was serious about pranking the Boatem Crew, the nHo would be right by his side. They left one by one, first Doc (who complained that he was already behind schedule on his build), then Beef (who playfully recommended Etho come help him run his shop if he wasn’t too busy helping Iskall dye prismarine), and lastly Etho. But before Etho departed, he said, “you know, I already thanked you, but I feel I should do it again.” He met BDubs’ gaze. “Thank you so much for finding me. I don’t know how that would have ended if you hadn’t caught sight of that place”. 

BDubs was humbled by Etho’s gratitude, though he still replied with, “You’re my friend Etho, of course I would give it my all to find you. I’m just happy we were able to do so before it was too late. And if you ever need to get away from it all, it’s pretty nice out here once you get past all the big eyes.”

Etho wheezed a chuckle in response, a hidden smile brightening up the corners of his eyes. “Sure, I’ll keep that in mind. You take care of yourself now, you hear? I don’t want to be hearing of too many shenanigans from you, ok?”

BDubs laughed in response, and nodded. “Can do! And you do the same, ok?” He let the humor drain a bit, a more serious tone shining through. “If things get bad, please let someone know. Doc knows what happened, and he would be able to tell you who else was there that you could talk to if you needed it.”

Etho nodded. “Yeah, yeah. If it gets bad I always have Iskall and you guys.” Etho glanced at a clock in his inventory. “Looks like I should be off. If I start now, I should be able to get back before sunrise.” Etho waved goodbye as he turned to go.

“Stay safe! I’ll see you around then,” called out BDubs as he watched Etho quickly jog to the nearest source of water. Then, once acquired, he flew with the flick of his trident, starting his way back to the nether portal so as to make it back to his base safely.

BDubs went to bed that night content knowing that if Etho ever needed the help, he knew who he could reach out to.

-fin-

[themurphyzone]

PatB: If I Can’t Love Him Ch 3

AN: I'm going to take a break from Nova and finish this fic. It's been 2 months since I last updated this anyway. 

AO3 Link

Ch 3: No Lesson Could Teach Me

The Beast's head throbbed like someone was repeatedly bashing his skull in with a hammer. Something cold and wet was wrapped around his right arm, which throbbed even more than his head. His front was exposed to wind and cold, his back against soft leather. 

He swayed from side to side, and a gentle hand pushed his shoulders so he didn’t lean too much in one direction. 

It was a strange touch, gentle and strong and graceful and frightening all at once. He didn't want the mouse touching him. 

Only infants and young children required physical contact. Not someone of his royal station, and certainly not beasts. 

Why save him? The mouse...no, his name was Pinky. It was the only thing he remembered as he slipped in and out of consciousness. Pinky had every right to leave him in the snow to be devoured by wolves or perish from exposure. 

A fitting punishment for all his failures to lift the curse and reclaim his throne.

The muffled clops from Pinky's horse gave way to sharp clacks on stone, sending a fresh wave of pain through the Beast's skull with each harsh sound. 

Then the horse came to a stop. 

The Beast opened his eyes and slowly pushed himself up. They’d arrived at the front doors of the castle. 

“Hello?” Pinky called. The Beast nearly tumbled off the horse in surprise, not expecting his voice to be so close to his ear. “We’re back!” 

An opening widened slightly at the door’s base, and Dot poked her teacup handle outside. Upon seeing them, her eyes lit up. Then she sounded the alarm, and a frenzy quickly arose from the servants as they threw the doors open as wide as they could, uncaring of any snow or debris that would blow into the foyer. 

It wasn’t just the Warners, who huddled together in shock and relief. Among the crowd, he spotted Hello Nurse off to the side, her range of motion highly limited since her harp form was rather heavy. Mindy, a porcelain doll, squealed in delight. Her purple dress was ruffled, skin slightly cracked from her misadventures around the castle. Buttons, her loyal dog turned footstool, made sure she didn’t get too close to the sharp hooves. The Goodfeathers, former pigeons who’d been caught in the curse as they roosted on the castle spires, hovered above everyone as featherdusters. Another footstool with scruffier tassels, Runt, wagged his rear dumbly. Rita, an angelic Christmas ornament, sat on him and surveyed everyone from her perch. Despite having an angel’s halo, robe, and wings, she was flexing her paws like she wanted to claw the Beast herself. 

 There were far too many eyes on the Beast for his liking. They didn’t have to stare. Pinky and the horse were alive, weren’t they? Isn’t that all that mattered? “I’m going back to the West Wing,” the Beast announced. “Don’t disturb me unless the castle’s on fire.” 

“Your arm is wrapped,” Hello Nurse said, like it wasn’t obvious already. Her arms were folded neatly in front, though she matched his glare with her own. “If my area of expertise is needed-”

“It’s not,” the Beast snapped. Hello Nurse was skilled in her trade, but he didn’t require anything except to be left alone. 

He just wanted to barricade himself in the West Wing, and either sleep or ponder a new plan for breaking the curse while ignoring that scornful rose. Because the whole ‘fall in love’ solution obviously wasn’t working, not that he’d ever lend it serious consideration.

“Hello, Hello Nurse!” Pinky waved to her. “Do you know how to treat wolf scratches, by any chance? Beast got clawed pretty badly.” 

The servants went into an uproar at that information. Individual voices were quickly lost in the cacophony, though there was much confusion, worry, and annoyance coloring everyone’s tones.  

“Don’t tell them!” the Beast growled at Pinky. 

Pinky folded his arms. “Zort! Well, it’s not like you were gonna tell them!” 

Though it was a true statement, he didn’t want that reflected back on him by some impudent rodent. 

“I would’ve explained eventually. And next time...” the Beast trailed off as his mind caught up to what Pinky said. “...did you just call me Beast?” 

Beast got clawed pretty badly. 

Pinky had said it so normally. Like it was any other name. 

Was it possible...oh, this was foolish. He knew better than to entertain fantasies. 

He’d lost the ability to read in the third year of the curse. And the year after that, he found it was impossible to invent. He snapped writing utensils with ease, whether by accident or out of frustration. 

If he couldn’t perform those simple tasks, then he didn’t deserve his old name. 

“Sorry. It’s just...um, you told me to call you Beast,” Pinky said. He seemed unsure for some strange reason. “Is that okay?” 

“It’s fine,” the Beast grunted. He wasn’t taking it back now. He was a prince, and princes, even former ones, never went back on their word once spoken. 

In the back, he saw Hello Nurse tap Dot’s rim. Dot leaned over as Hello Nurse whispered something to her. Then Dot pulled back and nodded firmly. Hello Nurse covered her ears.  

“EVERYBODY, QUIET!” 

Dot’s shriek echoed throughout the castle, rivalling his own roars in volume and intensity. It stunned everyone into silence, even Yakko, which was an achievement unto itself. 

The arguing servants stared at her. The only one unaffected was Mindy, who kept trying to touch the ‘pretty horsey’, and was barely being held back by Buttons’ wooden leg. 

“All yours,” Dot said to Hello Nurse. 

“Thank you, Dot,” Hello Nurse said, her voice somewhat unsteady from being so close to the blast radius. "May I remind everyone that there are three beings who are still in the cold, one of whom requires urgent medical attention?" 

"It's not that urgent," the Beast protested, but Hello Nurse ignored him as she organized the servants. 

"Yakko, light the fireplace and warm the room." 

Yakko saluted, a golden cap pulled low over his waxy head like a soldier's helmet. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" he shouted as he rushed away. 

"Wakko, fetch spare clothing and towels from the laundry room. Dot, run to the kitchen and ask Chef Flavio to heat some water, but not boil it." 

Wakko and Dot hurried out of sight, though Wakko quickly waddled back across the room once he realized the laundry room was in the opposite direction. 

“Goodfeathers, gather a cleaning crew and tidy up the entrance hall.” 

“Oi, do we look like maids to you?” Pesto shrieked as Squit and Bobby dragged him away by his dust-covered feathers. 

Before Hello Nurse could assign Rita, Runt, and Buttons to their tasks, a group of brushes and buckets skittered across the courtyard and came to a halt in front of Pinky’s horse, who stepped backwards with a nervous whinny at their sudden appearance. Pinky patted her side to calm her down, and the noises stopped. 

“We’ll take your horse to the stable, monsieur!” one of the brushes piped up. 

“We’ll take really good care of her!” a bucket added. 

Pinky shook his head, though he smiled gently at the disappointed stableboys. “Thanks for the offer, but I can do it myself. I don’t wanna trouble you or anything.” 

The Beast had seen Pinky frightened and defiant, but never smiling. It was strange. Somehow, the smile seemed like the most natural expression for Pinky to have. 

And now his thoughts were going off in a weird direction. The Beast quickly turned away, watching Buttons reluctantly hand off Mindy to a resigned Rita and a delighted Runt under Hello Nurse’s orders. 

“No trouble!” the brush said, and the brushes and buckets hopped in agreement. “None at all!” 

“It’s fine, really! Pharfignewton’s part of the family, so I’ve gotta take care of her,” Pinky said. 

Pharfignewton stomped her front hoof, her ears pinning back. She didn’t seem to agree at all. 

A blast of cold wind reminded the Beast that they were still exposed to the elements, and if they didn’t want to become icicles, they had to get inside now. 

“If I may,” Hello Nurse cut in before the Beast could say anything he’d probably regret later. “Pinky, I know you’re worried about your horse, but the stableboys are well-equipped to take over her care for now. I’d rather you warm up by the fireplace before doing anything else." 

"Well...if it's okay with you, Fig." Pinky carefully crawled up to Pharfignewton's head and down her long muzzle, quietly excusing himself as he passed the Beast. 

Pharfignewton nickered softly, and that seemed to satisfy Pinky. 

Buttons positioned himself on Pharfignewton’s left, digging his wooden legs into the ground as he waited for the Beast to dismount. 

“Move. I’ll walk there myself,” he said to Buttons, who adamantly shook his front end. Or what the Beast thought to be his head. It was hard to tell when the footstool had no visible face. 

And he wasn’t incapacitated. He’d recovered from his fainting spell just fine on the ride back. The offer was nothing more than an insult. 

A sudden bolt of pain traveled up his arm, and he clutched his injury with an agonized growl, almost falling off Pharfignewton in the process. 

“As for you, sir, you shouldn’t walk on your injured arm,” Hello Nurse said. “Unless you’d prefer to limp to your chair.” 

Limping on three limbs was even more humiliating than being carried, especially when Pinky was scrutinizing his every move. Slowly, the Beast slid from the saddle and onto Buttons, surprised that Pharfignewton was willing to bend down to make the transfer easier.

He tried not to think about accidentally cutting Buttons’ cloth with his claws. He didn’t understand how this accursed magic worked. Transforming living beings into inanimate objects made no sense from a scientific standpoint. 

Nor did having one’s insides become stuffing, brass, or wood or anything that didn’t normally belong in one’s body. 

It was somewhat nauseating if he pondered that concept too much. 

Pharfignewton gave Pinky a sloppy lick, and he hugged her nose in return. Then a spare coat rack took Pharfignewton’s reins and led her to the stables, surrounded by the entourage of stableboys. 

The Beast gripped a loose piece of golden trim to keep his balance as Buttons headed inside. The Goodfeathers arrived with the cleaning crew, who quickly set about cleaning all the dead twigs and snow that had accumulated at the entrance. 

Buttons pushed Hello Nurse across the stone floor while Rita and Runt herded Mindy in the direction of the servant’s quarters. Mindy was far too curious for her own good, too young to know her porcelain skin put her in greater danger if she strayed or touched something hot. It was a constant danger with Dot as well, who regularly insisted on keeping cushions laying around in strategic places so she could land safely. No amount of persuasion got through to her, not even from her own brothers. 

Pinky trailed behind Buttons. He still seemed to have trouble navigating the castle by himself. 

There was a loud crash behind them, and Buttons whipped around so fast that the Beast was nearly thrown off. 

“Gentle, Runt!” Rita scolded as Mindy recovered from being pushed too hard into a draconic gargoyle. But she popped up within seconds and giggled about silly puppies, so it wasn’t much of a cause for concern. There weren’t any new cracks on her porcelain. 

Runt whimpered and pawed the ground. “Sorry, Mindy. Bad dog. Definitely a bad dog.” 

Buttons growled a warning to Runt, who pressed himself to the ground in submission. Rita hissed right back as she patted the messy tassels on Runt’s head.  

“Aw, you’re not a bad dog!” Pinky ran over to Runt and embraced his leg. “It was just an accident.” 

“Eh, you ain’t bad. You’re just a klutz,” Rita said, which perked Runt up again. She flicked her paw dismissively. “Kiddo’s fine, Buttons. Take the boss to his brooding chair or something.” 

“It’s a pondering chair,” the Beast corrected. Everyone called it the brooding chair for some insane reason. He didn’t brood. He just used the chair to ponder ideas for breaking the curse. 

Really? You just stare into the flickering embers these days. Where are all your brilliant ideas now?

He really wanted to throw his internal monologue off the West Wing balcony. 

“Whatever you say, boss,” Rita shrugged. She flicked the tassels on Runt’s head, and they corralled Mindy to the servant’s quarters. 

Pinky waved goodbye to them, and Hello Nurse called for him to catch up to Buttons before he was left behind. Pinky barely looked as though his life had been in danger at all. 

Buttons crossed the threshold into the parlor, pushing Hello Nurse into a position between the fireplace and the stuffed armchair where she could easily supervise. 

The fireplace crackled with warm, orange flames. The heat alone was soothing to the Beast’s exhausted mind. Pinky stretched and basked in the warmth. Yakko preened in the attention his hard work received. 

Wakko and Dot stood on a side table next to the armchair. A bowl of warm, steaming water and a stack of towels was next to them. 

And most comforting of all, a wine-red cloak was neatly folded on the armchair’s cushion. Next to it was a pair of black trousers, one of the less ragged pairs he owned. For Pinky, a small, slender dress of fine pink silk laid a few inches away.  

"Change out of those wet clothes first," Hello Nurse advised. 

The armchair was made for humans, not rodents, though Buttons was thankfully the same height as the cushion, so it wasn’t difficult to transfer to an actual inanimate object. 

The Beast gripped the side of the armchair, placing his claws within the clawmarks he’d scored on the object when he became frustrated. 

Ripping away the destroyed remains of the cloak he’d worn during his fight with the wolf, he quickly donned the replacement and secured the collar’s golden clasp below his neck. But he didn’t bother with the pants. 

Maintaining some level of decorum, even with trousers that were too torn for even the best seamstress to repair, was absolutely necessary. 

Hello Nurse gave him a disapproving look, but he ignored it and sank in the back corner of the armchair instead. With his cloak surrounding him and his back pressed against into the corner, he felt more secure.

“Awww, this is a very pretty dress!” Pinky exclaimed, admiring the fine material that was ten times more expensive than whatever house he lived in as a commoner. “Thanks so much, Wakko!” 

Wakko grinned, his pendulum swinging faster at Pinky’s praise. Dot ribbed him playfully with her teacup handle. “Who knew you had an eye for fashion?” she teased. 

“Is it really okay for me to wear this?” Pinky asked. 

“Sure is! That color matches more with your name anyway,” Yakko said. “Unless you want us to start calling you Bluey. Color coordination’s a thing in fashion, right?”

“There’s hope for you after all, Yakko,” Dot said. Yakko held a candle to his chest in mock offense. 

Suddenly, Pinky shimmied out of the waterlogged commoner dress he’d worn since his arrival at the castle. 

And the Beast received a view of gleaming white fur on an exposed body. 

Lean, but with a fair bit of muscle. Slender. Beautiful. 

Desperate for something to do so he didn’t have to watch Pinky put on the dress, the Beast unwrapped the purple cloth around his lower arm, revealing four long scratches. Though the fur was stripped away and left the skin wide open, they weren’t deep. A trickle of blood leaked from one of the scratches, and without thinking, the Beast lapped it away with his tongue. 

It was neither sanitary nor dignified, but the Beast found himself tapping into instincts he usually fought to repress. To his horror, it was becoming more natural to lick his wounds like a creature of the wilderness. He was a prince in name only, no real power or respect behind the title. 

He lost himself in the rhythm for a while, only stopping when he felt something foreign on his arm. 

Pinky’s hand rested on his upper arm, just above his wound. 

Was he crazy? Why would any sane being touch royalty, or a monster, or him? 

Pinky wore the pink dress now, his long sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “You shouldn’t do that,” he said, bringing a wet cloth closer to the Beast’s arm. 

The Beast growled and stubbornly turned away from Pinky. Couldn’t this idiotic mouse just let him hang onto even an ounce of his pride? He held his arm out of reach, just so Pinky couldn’t have the satisfaction of getting it. 

It was Pinky’s fault he was injured in the first place. 

But Pinky wasn’t deterred, nearly falling onto the Beast as he reached up and tried to touch the cloth to the scratches. 

“Just hold still!” Pinky said, still not giving up even when the Beast moved his arm to avoid the cloth.

He could deal with this himself! What part of that did Pinky not understand? 

The brief tussle ended when Pinky finally managed to slap the cloth onto the Beast’s arm. Pain instantly shot through him, and he roared out of instinct and fury. 

“THAT HURTS!” he snarled in Pinky’s face.

“If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much!” Pinky retorted, his blue eyes piercing and intense with anger. 

It was strange. Pinky had cowered before him when they’d met face to face in the tower, and again when he’d been caught in the West Wing. 

But then, Pinky yelled back when he refused to dine with him. So it wasn’t completely out of the question. 

Regardless of what happened in the past, the Beast still needed to come out on top. After all, he was the Master around here. 

“If you hadn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened.” The Beast allowed himself a smirk. 

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

“If you hadn’t frightened me, I wouldn’t have run away!” Though Pinky’s face was just inches away from the Beast’s fangs, he didn’t flinch. 

And just whose decision was it to break into the one area he’d forbidden? It was a generous rule when the rest of the grounds were open for exploration!

However, he couldn’t completely dismiss that while Pinky broke the rule, he didn’t deserve to be nearly killed twice over it. 

Regardless, he refused to let Pinky win this round. 

“You shouldn’t have been in the West Wing!” the Beast couldn’t resist leaning into Pinky’s space. Point made. It was over. 

“Well, you should learn to control your temper!” Pinky snapped. 

It was one thing to have living inanimate objects say it, many of whom had tempers themselves, but had never caused the destruction he’d dealt over the years.  

Never in his life had he heard an outsider say it. A peasant scolding royalty. A prisoner fighting their captor. A mouse challenging a beast. 

Impressive, but infuriating that he couldn’t refute how his temper caused this entire mess to begin with. 

The Warners tried and failed to stifle their laughter, and it was completely unfair that they were on Pinky’s side. The Beast huffed, placing a paw on his cheek as Pinky grabbed his injured arm again. Maybe it was childish, but he didn’t care. 

“Now hold still,” Pinky said. His voice was firm, but also gentle. “This might sting a little.” 

As promised, the wet cloth stung on his arm as Pinky gently ran it over the scratches. The Beast grimaced at the sting of the fabric, and though he succeeded in containing the roar that threatened to build, he couldn’t stop himself from growling at the pain. 

He had a brief moment of respite when Pinky changed the cloth he was using now that he was finished sponging the remaining blood away. The scratches were pink, raw, and painful, but they weren’t bleeding. 

Maybe he should be more cautious this time. Just so Hello Nurse wouldn’t give him grief over his carelessness causing an infection. Or Pinky for that matter. 

Pinky returned with a new cloth. The Beast tensed as Pinky reached for his arm again, not wanting to be touched even though he reminded himself that it was necessary in this situation. After being isolated with nobody but household objects for company, and even before then, when his so-called family shunted him off to a minor province because they didn’t want the evidence of an affair in their palace, physical contact was a concept that was foreign to him entirely. 

“By the way, thank you,” Pinky said, smiling gently at the Beast. “For saving my life.” 

A warmth blossomed in the Beast’s chest, a sensation he couldn’t identify. It was new, but pleasant. 

“You’re welcome,” the Beast replied. That was the proper response to gratitude, right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

But he tried to cooperate as Pinky carefully wrapped the wound with bandages, following Hello Nurse’s instructions to the letter. Pinky deserved that much, at least. 

Pinky didn’t try to cause any unnecessary pain. But worry clearly showed in his eyes when the Beast involuntarily growled and tensed up with each touch. 

“It’s not you,” the Beast grunted, and Pinky's shoulders relaxed. He didn’t want to put up with that strange look much longer. 

“That looks fine, Pinky,” Hello Nurse called as Pinky finished wrapping the bandage around the Beast’s arm. “You did a great job.”

Pinky stepped back and wiped his forehead in relief. 

“His arm looks like a mummy’s,” Wakko not-so-subtly whispered.  

Ignoring the comparison to dead Egyptian royalty, the Beast carefully lifted his arm. It didn’t hurt as much as before. 

Next to him, Pinky carefully picked up the scrap of purple cloth that once served as a crude bandage. The Beast had forgotten about it. But Pinky neatly folded the scrap, tucking the bloodied side inward. He held it close to his body, like it was a precious item. 

He felt an odd twinge of guilt for tossing it aside, though he wasn’t why Pinky was treating it like a valuable painting or fragile heirloom. Maybe peasants just saved every piece of fabric they could. 

Then Pinky yawned, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

The Warners were oddly subdued as well. 

It had been a long and eventful night for everyone, and despite the Beast's exhaustion, his mind was brimming with questions. 

Terrifying questions he didn't want to know the answers to. 

"Children, why don't you escort our guest to his room and go to bed?" Hello Nurse suggested. 

Yakko balked, crossing his candlesticks over his brass chest. "I'm a height-challenged candelabra, not a—Dot! Don't jump from there!" 

Wakko and Dot jumped from the table at the same time, both landing safely on a cushion. Dot pouted. “Oh, but it’s okay for Wakko to jump?” she muttered. 

“He’s not porcelain,” Yakko said as he joined his siblings on the floor. Buttons whined in sympathy.  

“For the last time, I’m not helpless!” Dot hopped out of the parlor, not bothering to wait for her brothers or Pinky.  

“I didn’t say you were! You’re just more prone to chipping easily!” Yakko shouted. He chased after her, only stopping at the doorway when he remembered he was supposed to be an escort. He glanced at Pinky and Wakko. “You coming?” 

“Narf. Okay, I’m coming,” Pinky said, gathering his waterlogged dress and fabric scrap. Carefully, he climbed down the armchair and joined Yakko. Then he turned to everyone in the room. “Thanks, Beast. Thanks, Buttons and Hello Nurse. Good night. Can’t wait to turn in myself.”  

“Good night, Pinky,” Hello Nurse replied. 

Buttons barked. 

Beast nodded awkwardly. He didn’t think Pinky would be wishing him a good night after all he’d done to him. 

Wakko said nothing and happily batted at Buttons’ tassels. 

“Eh, he’ll catch up,” Yakko said, leading Pinky away from the parlor. “We can drop your clothes into the laundry along the way, and we never finished your tour before the boss ran you out, did we? Now if you direct your attention to the flying buttresses over yonder…” 

His usual chatter faded away. 

Maybe someone else should’ve escorted them, just to make sure Yakko didn’t treat Pinky to a whole song and dance routine on Baroque architecture. 

“What do you think he’s gonna turn into?” Wakko asked. 

Poor choice of words, but the Beast reminded himself that it was just an innocent question and not curse related. 

“Hopefully, nothing,” the Beast sighed. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

“Go catch up with the others, Wakko,” Hello Nurse said. She opened her arms, and Wakko happily accepted the invitation to hug. They broke apart after a minute, then Wakko turned back to the Beast. 

“It’s okay,” Wakko said. “You’ll break the curse. I know you will.” 

And he scuttled out of the parlor, leaving the Beast before he could explain all the reasons why such innocent faith shouldn’t be placed on him. 

It was just the Beast, Hello Nurse, and Buttons now. And Buttons wasn’t much of a conversationalist. 

“He shouldn’t say those things,” the Beast quietly said, his claws digging into the cushion. 

It was nigh-impossible to break Wakko’s hope, even though plan after plan of breaking the curse failed. Hope was such a terrible burden to bear. 

Hello Nurse met his gaze coolly. “Hope does exist, whether you deny it or not. Pinky gave you a second chance. Maybe it’s time to use the original condition that was laid out for you from the beginning.”  

Love someone and make them love a monster in return. Yes, that made complete sense. 

“You caused a lot of pain, and not just to Pinky,” Hello Nurse said. The Beast wanted to argue that Pinky was recklessly defiant, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that Pinky only wanted to save his father. That Pinky only broke his promise because he feared for his life. That his servants shouldn’t have to suffer for his mistakes. “But he saved you. And we’re grateful that he did.”

Right. Because he was the only one who could break the curse. 

He didn’t deserve a second chance. Hello Nurse wasn’t forthcoming with a satisfactory answer as to why he was given one. 

“I haven’t learned my lesson. That’s not possible. I can’t just...change,” the Beast said. 

He’d been stuck in the same routine of planning and failing for too long. It wasn’t an option. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

With that final statement, Hello Nurse signaled for Buttons to help her out of the parlor and push her to Dr. Scratchy’s room. He was always woefully behind on any developments, mostly because the Warners couldn’t leave him alone long enough for anyone to deliver news. 

But more importantly, if it was possible for someone like him to change, then all he had to do was...try? 

Try to break the curse. Try to reclaim the throne. Always trying, never succeeding. 

Pinky had given him another chance though. Another opportunity. 

And Hello Nurse made sure he knew it. 

“Buttons, stop!” the Beast shouted. It came out harsher than he intended. 

Startled, Buttons stopped pushing Hello Nurse, who simply turned her metallic body as best she could with a harp stuck on her back. 

“I...wanted to thank you both. That’s all. Now leave,” the Beast hastily said. 

Buttons and Hello Nurse just stared at him, and the Beast growled. They didn’t have to act that bewildered about it. 

“Good night,” Hello Nurse smiled once she finally recovered. 

Then they were gone. 

Alone in the parlor, the Beast settled into a comfortable position that wouldn’t aggravate his injury. He touched the bandages on his arm, remembering Pinky’s gentle touch. 

The fireplace burned as he pondered an endless amount of questions, searching for answers that would never come. 

End AN: I'm sorry for excluding everyone's favorite squirrels from the castle staff. Personally, I can't picture Slappy living in a castle. She's perfectly content in her tree with her nephew. I did have an early idea for her and Skippy being transformed into nutcrackers though. They might show up elsewhere though.

Hello Nurse (or a lookalike of her) as a harp was taken from the OG Animaniacs segment The Warners and the Beanstalk, so that's where I pulled her transformed state from. Originally, Rita was going to be a harp, but I decided to change her to a Christmas ornament as a reference to her VA, Bernadette Peters, voicing the Christmas ornament Angelique in BatB Enchanted Christmas.

I imagine the Goodfeathers to look similar to Plumette’s birdlike design in the 2017 live-action, but less graceful and more pigeon-y.

Brain logic: Oh no Pinky is beautiful what’s a logical course of action? Lick my arm? Yes, licking my arm is a good distraction.

[eastertag]

Phoenix

@janetm74 gift for @katblu42

the prompts: 1) Lee Taylor, 2) rising like a phoenix and 3) a bird with a broken wing, preferably a Thunderbird.

‘Uncle Lee, Uncle Lee!’ the twins shouted, rushing up to him and throwing themselves around his legs. He bent and scooped them up as their parents followed them at a more sedate pace, bemused smiles on their faces.

‘Tina, Vincent,’ Lee said, inclining his head to them as they all made their way back into the house, and the grins broadened. Some things would never change. As Lee sat down, one child on each knee, Kayo disappeared to get supper ready while Virgil entertained their guest. 

Or rather, while their guest entertained them.

Lucy Ruth and Grant Jefferson Tracy loved their Uncle Lee. Even if he couldn’t get their names, or their parents’ names right, he told the best stories. They didn’t get to see him as often as they would like, but every time he visited the island he made sure to spend some time with them.

Virgil came over and held his arms out for one of his children. ‘Come on, bed time,’ he said, taking Grant as Lee stood up with Lucy. This was often the highlight of his visit, and Lee wouldn’t swap this opportunity for anything.

Putting the youngsters to bed, Virgil and Lee exchanged glances, waiting for the inevitable request, and Grant didn’t fail to deliver. ‘Story, Uncle Lee! Story!’ he clamoured, his sister joining in. Lee grinned. ‘Which one do you want to hear?’ The children shared a glance, then squealed together: ‘The phoenix! Tell us about the phoenix!’

Lee chuckled. He’d lost count of how often they requested this one and he sat in the chair between the two beds while Virgil disappeared to assist his wife in the kitchen, safe in the knowledge that his two would be well looked after.

‘Well, Lana and Gerry, have you ever seen a phoenix?’ he started, and as usual both children nodded and pointed at him. He rolled his right sleeve up to reveal the faded tattoo. The phoenix, rising from the flames and ashes, screaming defiance to the sky. ‘That’s right. I got this after a particularly difficult rescue…

‘Damn it, Lee, that was too close!’ Jeff yelled, pulling Thunderbird Two up and away sharply.  The corresponding swearing told him that Lee was alright, if a bit shaken. The voice of his eldest came over the comms: ‘careful, Uncle Lee. We don’t want those roughneckers thinking you’re one of them rather than one of us rescuers!’ Jeff chuckled as Lee retorted rather sharply, ‘careful yourself, Spencer, we wouldn’t want you to…’ whatever he was saying was cut off by another explosion on the rig. 

Ribbing would have to wait, and both Lee and Virgil got the rescue platform ready for its’ last run, while Jeff used Two and Scott used One to stabilise the platform enough to get the last lot of workers off. John confirmed from Five that all emergency protocols had been initiated, and that capping the well now only required the special missile Brains had put together.

Scott fired the missile once the rescue platform was safely away in Two, and both ’birds headed back to the mainland. Two dropped off the workers at the hospital and they headed back home, Virgil flying and his dad co-piloting him. 

Not long after the four men could be found relaxing by the pool. International Rescue was still very new, that rescue had counted as their last single digit. Nine rescues in eight weeks. Sure they had started slowly, but as news spread about the organisation rescues were picking up. With all three of his eldest on board since the start, having had some background training in their respective fields beforehand, Virgil was now starting to go out and put his engineering skills to use. Jeff had made it very clear to his son that Two was his, but he needed some more training on the rescuing side before his dad would hand over control completely.

That was why Lee was here. Jeff and Scott may be pilots, but Lee was the engineer, as was Virgil, and Jeff had thought that his old friend and fellow astronaut would be ideal to help Virgil learn how to assess and react on the fly, as it were. Scott was an excellent commander, and could make snap decisions that were 99.9% right, but he wasn’t an engineer, and some of the decisions involving structural integrity and stability Virgil already knew how to call. It was what would make Scott and Virgil such a brilliant team – their respective skills complemented each other perfectly, they just needed honing.

Lee spent the next couple of days going over simulations with both boys, drills being run again and again until the two worked as one and they ‘won’ every time. They were fast studies, and Lee was more than happy at the way ‘Vincent’ picked up making decisions quickly, and his confidence at telling ‘Spencer’ when he was wrong or needed to take account of a variable.

He was preparing to return to Alpha Moon Base in two days. They spent his penultimate night with a barbeque, retelling how their dad and Lee had made the Mars landing, how Lee had needed to engineer a solution within seconds while Jeff was fighting to pilot the craft, how they barely made it. Sure, with every telling Lee embellished some part or other, but the overall story was not lost on Scott and Virgil. Always be aware of what you can use around you, think on your feet, Never Give Up.

The next morning all four were torn from their sleep by the emergency klaxon. 2:30 am was not a time any of them were used to getting up, but the ability to jump out of bed, dress and present oneself to the lounge for briefing Virgil was gradually getting used to. Scott never had a problem with this, his military training more than enough to prepare for this. John also didn’t have an issue with his NASA background. 

It was, so far, their third early morning call. Getting into the lounge last was not unusual, but at least he was awake. Scott passed him a coffee that he seemed to magic from nowhere, and he gratefully sipped the scalding drink while John filled them all in. 

A mine collapse in England with several workers trapped. However, the good news was that they had had notice, so the majority of workers had been able to get away. Scott was dispatched immediately, while Brains, Lee and Virgil poured over the plans of the mine and surrounding areas, checking geology and if there was going to be any surprises.  The only thing they worried about was that there were several ventilation shafts dug out over the larger area, which was a forest, and the possibility of an explosion of the gases that naturally built up was quite high. With that knowledge in mind, Two set off with the Mole, Jeff piloting and Virgil co-piloting.

It took Scott no time at all to reach the mine, and his report confirmed everything that they had already known and prepared for. As he set about organising what he could on the ground, Virgil and Lee went over the geology again, mulling over potential issues and discussing contingency measures. Jeff listened in, his confidence and pride in how quickly his son had assimilated to his role growing.

Lee and Virgil took the mole down, and it was a textbook rescue. Five miners, minor injuries only, it took around an hour to get them all loaded on the mole. The injured were loaded onto the waiting ambulances and International Rescue were thanked profusely. As they cleared away the equipment and loaded everything, Jeff looked at Lee and he nodded. It was time. As the four returned to the ’birds, Virgil was surprised when his dad walked past Two and carried on to One with Scott. Scott glanced back at his brother, grinning madly, and gave him a thumbs-up. 

‘Dad?’ called Virgil after them, uncertain despite his brother’s obvious glee. Jeff turned around and came over to his middle son, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. ‘Virgil, you performed really well on this rescue, both Lee and Brains said you made the recommendations yourself, you decided where to drill, you looked out the potential danger sites. You’ve more than earnt the right to fly your ’bird home without your old man standing over your shoulder.’ He thumbed over his shoulder to a waiting Scott, ‘that’s your brother’s privilege today.’ Scott mock-scowled, but he really couldn’t keep the grin off his face, and neither could anyone else.

One shot off into the distance. Virgil knew his brother would be waiting for him, but for the moment One was out of sight, and Lee huffed something about ‘show-off flyboys’ and ‘like father like son.’ Virgil just grinned. They were all flyboys really, well, except possibly Gordon but even he could fly competently (not that their eldest brother would ever admit that), only Scott seemed to have inherited their father’s love of speed so far. Alan may have, but he was too young to earn his wings yet.

Two rose more slowly – majestically was the phrase Virgil preferred, thank you very much – but she had her own turn of speed. The take-off may not be as impressive as her sister but compared to other aircraft his girl was fantastic. Using her VTOL’s to gain enough lift to engage her main engine, both Virgil and Lee kept an eye on the forest around them so they didn’t set fire to any trees. Trying to ensure he didn’t, Virgil nudged Two forward as she rose.

They hadn’t got far into the air when Lee suddenly shouted. But whatever he was shouting about was lost in the roar of an explosion that rocked Two violently, catching her back and left side, causing her to spin out of control.

Lee came too with several voices yelling for him and Vincent, er…Virgil. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but at the moment his concentration was all on shutting the voices up to stop his head from hurting. Oh, yeah. He needed to open his eyes to do that, and boy was that a mistake. Bright light assaulted him, followed closely by the smell of burning…he knew that smell, it was familiar to him. The smell of burning electrics!

It was the jolt he needed to get himself moving. Unbuckling his belt, he quickly checked himself over, nope, no injuries other than the cracked head and possible whiplash. He wiped the blood off his forehead while he stood up.

Second big mistake. He immediately doubled over and vomited. Ok, make that cracked head, possible whiplash and a concussion. But there was something more important he needed to do. The shouting was still shrill in his head and ear, but he ignored it, hauling himself over to check on Vinc…Virgil. The young man was out cold, a similar gash to his head.

It was the fire all around them that worried him. There was an extinguisher – Brains ever the overcautious, but this was extensive and he knew he needed to get them both out of there quicker than treating the flames would allow for. But as he tried the upper exit the resultant failure to open was no surprise. They would need to get out of the cockpit and the side door.

One of the advantages of being ‘space-trained’, as Lee often termed it, was that it taught you to think on the fly and to use whatever was to hand. And what was on hand, just outside the cockpit, was a prototype suit Brains was in the middle of designing for Virgil, to assist with heavy lifting. At the moment the bare bones were there, and it would be the best thing to use. Even if opening the door was easy, they would be surrounded by debris.

Good job he was strong, Lee reflected, hoisting Jeff’s middle boy into a fireman’s carry. This boy was heavy! He staggered out of the cockpit and into the service way, stopping before the entrance to the pod. The exosuit was housed here, a small area set aside for her, and Lee was thankful that he and Vincent were the same height as he carefully laid the lad down and got into the suit.

As with everything Brains created, the suit adjusted to fit him, and Lee marvelled at the engineering behind it. With a whirl of gears and pistons lee was moving, Vinny over his shoulder, over to the doorway. Thankfully this one slid open easily, Cahelium being so very tough, but outside the ’bird the forest was ablaze.

No sooner had Two got caught up in the fireball, Five had notified One, and a horrified pair of rescuers turned around and raced back in time to see her crash. Training taking over familial responsibilities, they set about using One’s cannon to blast the rapidly spreading fire. Jeff knew that One didn’t carry enough to douse this and directed John to call the local fire services. Scott set One down some distance away, both men inwardly seething at the distance needed because of the fire.

Their priority was to get Lee and Virgil out, so donning their fireproof suits Jeff grabbed two spare oxygen tanks while Scott grabbed extra fire extinguishing tanks, and the two set off while John constantly called to the downed men.

As Jeff and Scott burst through the forest they were met by an astonishing sight. Lee Taylor, resplendent in the exosuit prototype, Virgil over his shoulder, both bathed in the flames around them. The exosuit, still unpainted in this testing phase, shone reds and yellows. They appeared almost in slow motion.

Later, later Scott would mention how like the phoenix Lee looked appearing so suddenly. But right now, all their attention was focused on rescuing Lee and Virgil and putting out the fire.

…and once your Uncle Scott mentioned the Phoenix, that was it. Of course, that was the seed sown, but I didn’t get the tattoo straight away. Returning to Alphie was next on the cards, and it wasn’t until several years later, when your Grandpa Jeff was missing. When your Uncles Spencer and Alvin came to rescue me and Alphie was destroyed I felt that my life as an astronaut was over. Then Spencer gave me another chance when we went to Mars.

When Tina, your mom, came and found me I felt that I was given a second chance at life at my age, and I remembered Spencer remarking about the phoenix and I thought “that’s me, that’s my life.” Your uncles gave me my life back, a second life just like the phoenix. Then they went and rescued your Grandpa, and my third life began, teaching the next generation of Mars settlers.’

By the time Lee had finished both children were asleep, and Virgil and Kayo were wrapped around each other in the doorway. Hearing how their weird Uncle Lee saved their dad’s life never failed to fascinate the pair, and they loved the tattoo. Virgil had been honoured when he’d been asked to design it.

The three adults retired to the living room to reminisce. 

[inknopewetrust]

adieu, remember me. (1)

The Old Guard Booker x Female! Original Character

Summary: After a few years away, one member of the immortal team must return to protect their immortality and secrets as enemies begin to uncover their past.

Word Count: 1.6k 

Warnings: nothing yet!

Parts: ... | 2 | part 2 coming soon!

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think about the work and it will def be more than 2 or 3 parts and longer than this one. Requests are CLOSED at the moment and I apologize in advance for any mis-wording or spelling in different languages because I don’t know french/italian but I feel in some cases it was necessary to use for character interactions. Published on 8/9/2020.

if you want to be tagged for the next part please let me know!

All original content is owned by me. Anything from the film/comic is property of the writers, studio, and director. Gif not by me.

Versailles evolves every so often but over 172 odd years, more visitors pack its halls and recall its history. Tourists from around the world flock to the once functional palace and the home of infamous, complicated monarchs. Passed the sweeping halls and the paintings of untouchable status, a special exhibit was placed at the end of the hall with cases full of crowned jewels of French royalty.

Tourists flashed photos of crowns and rings and pearls that adorned the exhibit cases. In the center of the room laid perhaps the most famous of jewels, as well as the crowns that found themselves on the heads of women who suffered terrible fates. The Hope Diamond sat in a case between crowns that once adorned it and worn by Marie Antoinette and Louis Philippe I’s controversial daughter, Vivienne, Duchess of Auvergne. On loan from its final resting place at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., the diamond once found itself imbedded in each of the crowns on momentous occasions.

Crown worn by Vivienne, Duchess of Auvergne and third daughter of King Louis Philippe, killed by French revolutionaries in February 1848. Crown was commissioned by the King for his daughter’s twenty-eighth birthday. Was worn on the night of her death on 24th of February, 1848.

Twenty-eight. 172 years later she still remember the party, the food, the smell of the candles that burned from the chandelier and the man who caught her heart. Pretentious was the only word that came to mind when she thought of the party and the woman. At the time she felt deception too but the world has a funny way of making villains look like heroes depending on the perspective.

Clara felt the surge of memories remind her of the life she knew before the one she was in now. She didn’t know how long she had stood in front of that particular case with that particular diamond and crown but by the time her feet began to ache she knew it had been long enough. Clara also wasn’t sure how long a small English girl had been standing next to her, also staring at the silver diamond encrusted crown and the plaque underneath it.

“You know, she’s kind of a rebel and I dig it. It reminds me of Princess Margaret in a way. She was Queen Elizabeth’s sister and she partied a lot too.”

“Excuse me?”

“Vivienne. She was a rebel in her own right and I admire her for it.” The woman turned, her face meeting the girl taking notes on a piece of paper. The girl couldn’t have been more than thirteen and certainly had a bold personality if she was talking to someone she didn’t know.

“The revolutionaries didn’t see it that way, so why would you?”

“She was independent. I think it was progressive and cool for her not to follow the rules of her family. Not to mention the glamour in her style. She had the best dresses and crowns since well, Marie Antoinette probably.”

“That’s a little naïve, no?” The woman raised her brow at the student but the girl simply shrugged. The young one looked at the older woman and analyzed her face and features as she spoke.

“She spent the people’s money like water and saw no problem with the poverty in the streets. Vivienne was oblivious to the world around her because she lived in a world of riches with everyone at her disposal.”

“Perhaps.” The girl paused before continuing. “There’s a tv show about her on... um-I don’t remember- HBO maybe and they say she took a commoner for a lover and he sold her secrets to the revolutionaries which led to her death. Her body disappeared after the broke into the castle and people think they threw her body in the Seine.”

“I would advise you to stop watching whatever movies are giving you that perspective on the issue because it’s not true.” Clara scoffed and turned away from the girl.

The girl listened but was too entranced by the figure in front of her eyes. Brown hair, medium length, waved. She looked nice to say the least. She had on pretty clothes and may have been an employee because she knew so much but the girl wasn’t sure. All the student was certain of was that the woman standing in front of her looked very much like the Duchess in the paintings that lined the modern wing.

“You look like her.” The girl told her and she put her pencil down holding the pad of paper at her side. Before she had a chance to answer the girl, a teacher called out to the students as a signal to leave and the girl picked up her bag.

“Have a nice day.”

The girl left with the class and the woman stayed in front of the case watching them leave the room before turning back to the crown that once adorned her own head. A soft rumble came from her pocket and she pulled out the burner phone with a number she didn’t recognize but an area code she did, Goussainville.

France, safe house #4

“Hello?”

“Clara.” The Italian on the other line sounded relieved that she simply picked up the phone. Clara’s face contorted into one of worry than one of happiness she had been called.

“Nicolo, s’il tu plaît dites-moi que tout va bien?” Clara moved over to a window, away from the crowds to answer the call she had been anticipating for the last day. She dreamt of a black girl and her throat being sliced open. Waking up gasping for breath that wasn’t her own and cautious of who it might be.

“No-no. Il y en a un nouveau ... mais ce n'est pas le problème. les gens essaient de nous trouver et Dieu sait quoi.” Nicky told her and Clara felt helpless, disappointed in herself that she wasn’t there to help them. Not only was there someone new who needed guidance but the others needed her too if they were going to protect their own skin.

“Andy went to get her. We are at the safe house in Goussainville and they should be here later today. If you can make it... we really need you, Clara.” Clara sighed and looked out the window that faced the vast gardens the palace was surrounded by. Serenity before the inevitable storm.

“He’d kill me if he knew I’m telling you this but Booker needs you. It’s getting worse since the last time he saw you and I am not sure what to do.”

“That was three weeks ago, Nicky.”

“I can’t explain it... it’s just gotten worse. I know he has to help himself but he’s always a bit brighter when you’re around.”

“I can be there later tonight. What time are they getting in?”

“7.”

“I can be there at 8. I’m in France so I’ll take a train as soon as I can.”

“We will be waiting.” Nicky told her and she hung up the phone. Clara looked back at that glimmering crown and what the young girl said about the Duchess. Naïvety at its finest.

At the safe house in Gousssainville, the three immortal men unpacked the bag they brought and washed up after the ambush in Afghanistan. Nicky stood alongside the small counter space prepping dinner when Booker came to fill a cup with wine.

“Who was on the phone?” Booker asked in a low grumble and Nicky set down the knife he was using to slice tomatoes.

“It was Clara. I called her and told her we needed her here. She dreamt of the girl too.”

“And?” Booker pushed further and downed his glass in an instant upon the news.

“She could catch a train to be here at 8.”

“How did she sound?”

“Worried.”

Booker nodded and filled his glass again before going to sit in front of the tv in a chair he had designated as his own many years ago. Nicky watched as he sat, drank more and tried to remove himself from his thoughts but was too lost to do so. He was observant and cared deeply for the others in his life but there was only so much he could do for a man as stubborn as Booker.

“Hai bisogno di aiuto?” Joe called out to Nicky from everyone’s shared bedroom before also joining the two in the common space. Nicky shook his head and glanced at Booker who wasn’t looking but certainly listening.

“I called Clara. She is on her way to us now. She knows we are in trouble.” Joe smiled at Nicky and gave him a quick peck. While they were all very close, Joe and Nicky had taken Clara under their wings and helped her acclimate to the world as an immortal, especially after they found her and the two french immortals clashed. 

“It’s been too long. I miss that woman.”

“We all do.” Nicky said before returning to his meal. Without much time having gone by, the door to the cemetery sounded and Andy walked through the door with a nervous woman behind them. The girl was young, no more than 25 and had blood stained on her forehead. One hand was clutching her arm but out of nervousness not injury. Her eyes looked at the three men. Two sat staring at her in chairs and the other by the refrigerator and the only sound that played was the cheering of fans from a football match that played on the widescreen. Andy looked over her shoulder and then back again, breaking the silence to introduce the newest member of The Old Guard.  

“Everyone, this is Nile.”

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

Tag List: (Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for the next part!) 

@holychocopie 

[ofstarsandfireflies]

Hope everyone’s having a good night!

In time

Your pay is given to you in time, you spend your time, and if you’re rich you can live forever.

Stephen had once had so much time he didn’t know what to do with it all.

He’d enjoyed the extravagant life until it was taken from him.

And with each surgery, more of his time was wasted, dwindling his life down from decades to days in just a year.

He found himself watching it more and more like he used to before he’d made his time.

And with hardly any of it left, he needed a miracle if he was going to see the end of the week.

He wouldn’t have thought that miracle would come in the form of John Pangborn, a man who Stephen had refused to operate on for fear of tarnishing his perfect record.

Not only is Pangborn walking around when that should be impossible, but somehow this guy’s timer is way more than he should have.

And it’s frozen.

Stephen’s in shock.

He’s only ever seen stopped clocks on those who’s time came to an end too soon.

He wants to know how Pangborn has done this, and that’s when he shows him a necklace.

Stephen thinks he’s pulling his leg, asking him if it’s some new Stark tech.

And the darkest of looks crosses John’s face.

He would never spend a second on Howard Stark.

John used to work for Stark Industires.

That’s where he had his accident he was never compensated for because of Stark’s lawyers.

And if he still had the drive, still had something worth living for, he’d make Stark pay.

Stephen can emphasise greatly.

The car that had taken his hands had been built by Howard’s company, and he didn’t have the time to be in court.

Pangborn’s eyes almost glaze over as he’s hit with an idea.

Strange wouldn’t waste his time in bringing Stark down, and could do so if he had more of it.

So, he opens up the amulet with just a wave of his hand, and Stephen’s clock, which had just hit 1 hour, freezes.

And then counts up.

10 years, 50 years, a hundred, it just keeps climbing all the way up to the thousands and Stephen is telling him to save it to use on someone else who needs it, but all he’s met with is silence.

And then Pangborn tells him it doesn’t last.

That he’d lost people because of it.

That magic comes with the highest price of all, and most simply cannot pay it.

Then he’s lifting the thing from around his neck and handing it to Stephen.

And as soon as it leaves his neck, his clock starts up again.

5 minutes.

Stephen is trying in vain to get this man to reconsider, trying to get the amulet to open like Pangborn had shown him, but the man stops him.

3 minutes.

He shows him a ring, a special item that can create portals anywhere in the world with just a thought and how to use it.

He’s already been everywhere with it, so he didn’t need it anymore.

1 minute

He grips Stephen’s jacket and tells him not to waste this gift like he had done.

To help others, like he had the choice to do.

And to not use it on people he cared about, because time has a horrible way of catching up with them.

And with that, his counter reaches zero.

With infinite time on his hand, Stephen wastes none of it in returning to his old place and buying most of his old things back before learning everything he can about every victim of Stark Indutries and trying to learn what Pangborn had shown him.

If he’s going to go after Stark, he has to fit back into this world.

Dress the part, act the part, even though his hands remind him he isn’t that man anymore.

And if he needs to get somewhere, let’s just say he can’t rely on driving.

Months pass as he practices and gathers information on everything about Stark and everywhere he can hope to intercept him.

And when he can finally manage to open and close these portals on a whim, is when he goes to a fundraiser gala night he knows Stark will be at, making the right impression when he introduces himself to the man.

But as he and Howard are talking, someone catches Stephen’s eye.

Someone Howard introduces as his son, Tony Stark.

And things just got a hell of a lot more interesting for Stephen.

This guy looks damn good in a suit, better then Stephen could ever dare to dream to pull off, better than his father even.

His eyes are a rich chocolate brown, matching his perfectly styled hair and Stephen doesn’t know how long he’s been staring but he’s quickly pulled out of his trance when someone stops him from getting too close to this younger Stark.

Even at the distance he’s allowed to stand at with the bodyguard glaring at him the entire time, Stephen strikes up a conversation with Tony, and finds out this beautiful bird longs to escape his cage and spread his wings.

So he asks him to dance.

Tony is intrigued by him.

He’s only recently started going to these things so he’s never seen Stephen before, and accepts his hand to be lead away from the safety of his body guards and his father, who can do nothing but watch.

As they sway to the music, Stephen is taken aback by Tony’s opinion of the clock.

He’d have thought Tony would have been for it, but it’s actually the complete opposite.

Tony doesn’t agree with how corrupt the system is, how the rich can live forever and how everyone else has to fight just to scrape by.

How all the time in the world doesn’t matter if you have no one to share it with.

And as the music finishes, and Tony is starting to pull away, Stephen knows this is his chance.

He grabs Tony and offers him an escape.

Offers to get him out of this cage.

But before Tony can answer, police storm the building, requesting to speak to Stephen Strange about Johnathan Pangborn.

And he knows if they see his clock, if they get their hands on this time stopping magic, there’s going to be a lot questions he won’t have the time to answer.

Beginning to panic, Stephen opens a portal back to his place and drags Tony through it.

Tony wrestles himself out of Stephen’s grip, not at all thrilled about being used as a hostage.

He’d known there was something different about Strange, how he stood out amongst the crowd, but he’d never have guessed that magic was what it was.

Stephen isn’t about to get side tracked with Tony’s questions.

He makes Tony dial the number that will get him in direct contact with Howard Stark, and once the man picks up, Stephen orders him to pay everyone the time they’re owed.

The time taken from living.

From having children.

From walking.

And he has 8 hours to do it in or he won’t get Tony back.

When Tony asks what he meant, Stephen tells him not only about Pangborn, but the countless other patients he remembers he had operated who all had injuries from Stark Industries.

And he leaves himself for last.

Tony knows nothing of any of these incidents.

Never even knew that they happened.

And when Stephen tells him to get some sleep, he can’t help but wonder if his father will pay those people what they’re owed.

When he wakes, he can and can’t believe it.

Nothing has happened.

Stephen just shakes his head.

If the safety of his only son won’t make this asshole pay the people, then maybe he wasn’t clear enough.

So, opening the amulet the same way Pangborn had shown him, he begins to turn time backwards.

But as he begins to pull them back, he notices how his own clock moves back, but Tony’s clock moves forward.

And quickly stops.

They might have 8 hours to spare, but so many others don’t and now he’s out of ideas.

But Tony isn’t.

There’s another way to get back at his father and give those people their time.

All of them.

Howard can’t believe what his son is doing to him.

To his inheritance.

He can’t believe a Stark would be so concerned with some liabilities that were already dealt with.

Putting an end to Tony’s spending spree does nothing because somehow he’s still spending it, and the police just seem to be chasing their tail.

But that’s not the only thing he can’t believe.

On the surveillance camera photos before him of Stephen Strange at that gala night. some taken hours apart, his clock has not moved a second.

And Howard has to know how this was done.

He has to have whatever this is that’s causing this.

Over the course of a few short days, Stephen and Tony have been all over the world searching for the people who had been hurt, or the relatives who had fought on their loved ones behalf, giving away more than they could have ever hoped to win in court.

And it doesn’t take long for the rapidly decreasing distance between them to become near non existent between hands and lips.

They can out run cops all day and make love all night and still have enough time steal a few hundred thousand years to simply give away.

But it’s at the final bank they plan to hit that they run into Howard and the army he’s brought with him to appear intimidating.

It works until Tony is grabbed and hauled over to his father, Stephen’s arms pinned behind his back so he can’t do anything about it.

But even if he could, Stephen knows.

He knows what will happen to everyone who doesn’t have enough time if he tries to prevent this from happening.

What was the point of this thing if it couldn’t be used to help others?

Or was that the point?

Was this stupid rock only good for the man he used to be, and not for the good man he wanted to be?

Was this a test? Something to entice one to take it and use it for their own gain?

Was that what Pangborn had done, thinking he could have the best of both worlds, only to be shown the disasterous outcome of his desicion?

It’s then he looks at Tony.

If it hadn’t have been for the time stone, they’d have never met, never shared what they have, never have saved so many people.

Tony smiles at him, encouraging him to make the right choice.

And Stephen does.

For the only right choice to him, is Tony.

So he offers Howard a deal.

The time stone, for Tony.

Tony hadn’t ever thought he was more precious to Stephen than that stone, but he’s obviously not as precious to his own father, who agrees immediately.

And so, Stephen rips the amulet from his neck, setting his clock back to one hour, exactly what it had been before he’d been burdened with the thing, and hands it over to Howard.

Tony is let go and he and Stephen make their escape together as Howard places the amulet around his own neck.

But nothing happens.

It’s then he realises his mistake.

He was never shown how to use it.

Quotes -

“So you always have a hired hand standing right next to you?”

“No, I usually have two.”

“That doesn’t make it very easy to get to know you.”

“I think that’s the idea.”

“Your idea?”

“My father’s.”

“I understand. You all have a lot to lose.”

“So do you.”

Stephen meets Tony.

“You don’t know anything.”

“Oh, no? The clock is good for no one. The poor die and the rich don’t live. We can all live forever as long as we don’t do anything foolish. Doesn’t that scare you? That maybe you’ll never do anything foolish? Or courageous or anything worth a damn?”

Tony just wants to live

On Borrowed Time

In a world where time means everything, what does a time stone mean?

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15

Day 16 Day 17 Day 18 Day 19 Day 20

Day 21 Day 22 Day 23 Day 24 Day 25

Day 26 Day 27 Day 28

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 19: Dragon Rising (part 3)

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 19: Dragon Rising (part 3) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Tim Drake-centric

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary:

After the battle with the dragon at the Watchtower, Tim wakes up in the Temple of Kynareth for the start of his healing process.

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

"...Dovahkiin..."

"...Dragonborn..."

"...Motaad sizaan sil..."

"...Tremble lost soul..."

"...Thuri du hin sil ko Sovngarde..."

"...My overlord will devour your soul in Sovngarde..."

"...Draal fah dinok..."

"...Pray for death..."

***

Tim's eyes snapped open as he woke with a gasp to escape the nightmare of draconic voices whispering horrible things to him from the darkness. As his sleep blurred vision began to clear and the echos of his nightmare drifted out of reach, he became aware of several things one after the other.

First, he was no longer on the battlefield. Instead, he was in some sort of building, laying on his right side on a moderately comfortable bed. 

Next, the pain that had been wracking his body from his burns all week long were significantly dulled. There was a deep ache in certain areas, but overall things were far better than they had been earlier. 

Finally, while he was still very tired, suffering from what felt like a bone-deep exhaustion, he was also very thirsty. His gaze wandered around the small bedroom he was resting in and fell upon a nearby end-table with a ceramic pitcher and cup just out of reach.

Gingerly, Tim began to sit up, groaning softly with the effort. He almost didn't hear the soft footsteps approach the room and the quiet knock upon the doorway. He looked over to see an old Nord woman in a hooded robe standing there, a bowl and some linens in her arms. She smiled at him kindly. "You're finally awake," she said as she entered the room. "That's good. We've been concerned you might not wake up anytime soon." She immediately went to Tim's side and placed a cool hand against his forehead. Tim flinched a little, but didn't pull away completely. "Still a bit too warm, but at least your fever is headed in the right direction. Another day of rest and it should be broken completely."

"I'm sorry, but who are you, and where am I?" Tim asked.

"My name is Danica," she replied as she moved to the end table with the pitcher. "And you are in the Temple of Kynareth here in Whiterun. I'm the head priestess here." She poured out a cup of water and handed it to Timothy. "Drink slowly," she instructed before turning back to pour the rest of the water into the bowl she'd brought over.

As Tim brought the cup to his lips, he paused. He could smell something medicinal in the liquid, and the color was not quite right for just water. Still, he was extremely thirsty and he took small, careful sips until the cup was drained. As he drank, he watched as Danica placed one of the smaller linen towels into the bowl and soaked it before wringing it out and folding it into a compress. She then turned her full attention back on Tim and tried to gently encourage him to lay back down. 

The idea of laying back down and going back to sleep was tempting, and he was so tired, but still...

"I can't stay too long," he murmured as he tried to maneuver his legs off the bed.. "I need to speak with the Jarl about that dragon and--"

"No you don't," a familiar voice said firmly. Tim looked at the doorway to see Lucien standing there. He had a firm, determined expression on his face. "You are under strict orders by the Jarl himself not to set one foot out of this Temple until you are cleared to leave by Sister Danica herself." He stepped fully into the room and Tim could see he had a basket in one hand. Though covered with a cloth, Tim could see part of a loaf of bread and some fruit peaking out. 

A corner of Tim's lip quirked upward despite himself. "Oh really? So we're listening to the Jarl's orders now?"

"We do when the Jarl's housecarl Irileth herself has decided to fold you under her wings as a fellow 'soldier-in-arms' and has made your recovery one of her top priorities." Lucien remarked as he set his basket down on a nearby dresser. "Apparently she has a reputation of being a strong advocate for the soldiers under her command, despite her stern demeanor, as well as a reputation of speaking her mind with the Jarl when something troubles her. This..." Lucien made a vague circular motion with his hand that seemed to indicate Tim's whole physical state. "...troubled her greatly." He shrugged. "Apparently when Irileth speaks, Jarl Balgruuf actually listens. Imagine that... A Nord actually taking the words of a Dunmer to heart. Will wonders never cease?" 

Then Lucien's expression turned more serious. "So long story short, the Jarl has instructed that you be given all the time you need to recover from your illness and injury. The Temple itself is not to be disturbed by anyone unless they are approved by Irileth or if they are in serious need of healing themselves. So please, Timothy. Will you please just sit back and rest? This is the first time you've woken and been coherent in three days."

"Three days?" Tim echoed with slight disbelief. 

Lucien nodded and took a seat at the foot of Tim's bed as Danica added a pillow so Tim could recline comfortably, but be upright enough to eat. He pulled out an apple from the basket and began to peel it with a small pocketknife. "You were deathly ill when Irileth had her men brought you to the temple after the battle with the dragon. Your burns were deeply infected and all the stress of that battle exasperated your condition." Once peeled, he cut a slice and offered it to Tim.

Reluctantly, Tim laid back down on the pillows, a soft sigh escaping him when Danica pressed her compress against his forehead. The cool cloth felt good, and the medicinal aroma from the liquid wasn't an unpleasant smell. It was rather soothing. Tim had a suspicion that the herbs had some sort of soporific effect, but he wasn't really in any position to complain against it. Still, for the moment hunger beat out the immediate need for sleep, so he took the offered apple slice and took a small bite.

While he ate, Danica took a chair next to the bed. Then, she gently took Tim's left burned arm. The young man startled at the touch, but Lucien reassured him. "It's alright. Just let her work."

Curiously, Tim watched as Danica focused on his arm, holding it with her left hand. She murmured what sounded like a soft chant under her breath and held her free right hand over the area that was scarred by the burn. A warm golden aura radiated from her hand and eventually travelled to his injury. Tim watched with awe as the lingering ache in his arm began to fade even more, and the wound itself began to look far better. Rather than an infected angry red wound, it now looked more like an aged silvery scar that was a few shades lighter than his normal skin tone. After a few minutes, Danica finished her chant and she returned Tim's arm to him. 

"That's... amazing," Tim whispered as he tentatively touched the scar. 

"How does that feel? Is there any lingering pain anywhere in the arm?" Danica asked.

Tim moved his arm experimentally, testing the range of motion he now had. When his face reflected a twinge of pain around his elbow, though he didn't complain about it, Danica used her magic to heal the area with a more precise touch. 

As Danica worked, Lucien watched with a content expression as he continued to cut fruit, bread, and cheese and feed them to Tim. Eventually the priestess was finally satisfied with the state of Tim's arm and shifted her focus to his back. This part of his body, it seemed, was still in a worst state than his arm. Even after several passes of healing magic, there was still quite a bit of pain left deep in the muscles and bone and it showed on Tim's face, though he didn't complain verbally about it.

"I think that is enough for now," Danica announced after a final pass. She gently stroked some of Tim's hair from his face, She could feel the heat of his lingering fever radiating off of him, and carefully repositioned the pillows so he could lay back down completely. "The burn and infection on your back went far deeper than what your arm endured. Because of your fever, you'll need to rest before we can proceed with more healing."

Tim, for his part, was exhausted. Though he didn't do anything except eat and sip water while he was being healed, he felt as if he'd just run a marathon. He closed his eyes as the compress was placed on his forehead again, and he relished how good it felt against his overheated skin.

Danica didn't leave immediately, though. She studied Tim for a moment. "Just wondering, young man, but were you sickly as a child?"

Tim cracked open his eyes. "Sickly?"

"When you were a child, were you prone to illness and took a long time to recover?" 

He shook his head. "Not as a child, but last year I received a... permanent injury that I've been told might make me more prone to illness." Tim wasn't about to try and explain how he'd lost his spleen and its function. He was unsure how much knowledge of human anatomy and the function of individual organs was known here. He hoped the vague explanation would be enough. 

Danica sighed. "The costs of war..." she murmured with a shake of her head. Clearly she was assuming his injury had been from the current Civil War strife plaguing Skyrim. She then went over to the nearby dresser and pulled open the top drawer. From it, she removed an amulet and tied it around Tim's neck. 

Curiously, Tim lifted it from his chest to get a closer look at it. The amulet was strung on a leather thong, appeared to be forged from iron and some other pale metal he couldn't identify, and was shaped to look like a bird in flight. In the middle of the bird was a sky blue gemstone. It was a lovely piece of jewelry, but that was not the most remarkable part of it.

"It's warm?" he mused. Tim wasn't sure, but it almost felt like the warmth was pulsing like a heartbeat.

"It's an amulet of Kynareth," Danica explained. "She is our patron Divine here at the temple. Through Kynareth's blessing, the amulet improves one's stamina when you wear it. This should help with improving the speed of your recovery while in the temple." She gathered some of the dishes and spent linens. "Now get some rest. I'll check on you in a few hours.

Once Danica was gone, Tim turned to Lucien. "So... who is Kynareth?"

"She's one of the Eight Divines," Lucien explained. "A nature goddess of the sky, air, and wind, and the patron of travelers who traverse both land and sea." He smiled a bit. "When you're feeling better, before you leave the Temple you ought to take a moment and pray for a blessing at the shrine here. It wouldn't hurt to seek Kynareth's guidance as we try to find your way home."

Tim gave Lucien a strange look, and the scholar's smile faded. "Is the worship of gods different in your homeland?"

"Well... There are different religions throughout my world. Some believe in many gods. Others believe in just one." Tim sighed. "And still others don't believe in any at all." He glanced away from Lucien. "And back home... I fall into that latter category."

Lucien's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. "You... You don't believe in any divinity?! How does that even work?" 

Tim shook his head with a shrug. "I believe in science and in things I can see with my own eyes. I believe in real mortal people who live their lives and make their choices. I believe in the existence of powerful beings who have abilities that far outstrip those of normal human beings. There are plenty of those on my home world. But I don't believe them to be gods and I don't believe in any necessity to worship them."

"Have you always believed like this?"

The younger man's expression became clouded and distant. "No... not always..."

"What happened? What changed?"

Tim sighed. "I... really don't want to talk about it."

Lucien regarded Timothy quietly. It seemed that the scars visible on the young man's skin were not the only ones he carried. Never in his own life could Lucius even fathom the existence of a spiritual injury that could mortally wound a person's faith itself. 

It was a disquieting thought.

"Timothy... I..." Lucien started to say after a long moment of silence, but paused. He noticed that Tim had curled up onto his side and his eyes were now closed in slumber. Lucien's gaze softened as he rose and pulled the blankets over Tim's shoulder. "You may not believe in our Divines here, but I'll pray that they watch over you regardless," he whispered before blowing out the candles and leaving the room. 

There, in the dark of the room as Tim slumbered, the blue gem set in the amulet of Kynareth seemed to glow faintly. 

As he slept, the voice of the dragon that had plagued his nightmares before did not trouble him again.

  -------------------------

Note:

Unfortunately no screenshots with characters in this scene. Just couldn't seem to get a right angle for any screenshots within the Temple of Kynareth. I have included an image of the Amulet of Kynareth Tim received. In-game all the amulets of the Divines offer some sorts of buffs to your characters, and it seemed appropriate that a stamina buff might help Tim since he's sick. I also figured that since Kynareth/Kyne is going to feature heavily during the journey of the Dragonborn, despite Tim being an atheist, she might be a bit "invested" in his well-being.

Just because you don't believe in a goddess doesn't mean she doesn't believe in you.

But because she is one of the Divines and not one of the Daedra, she's not going to be able to interact with Tim directly, but I think there needs to be some obvious-ish indirect influence. I need to think about this... Hopefully I'll have a better idea by the time Tim starts making his journey to meet with the Greybeards.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#batfam fanfic#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

[deaddovecoterie]

butterflies

co-written with @whoseblogsthis

genre(s): angst, drama

fandom: miraculous ladybug

warning(s): language, violence, unedited kind of,,,

word count: 1.9k

a/n: anddd we’re back on our bullshit🥳 tbh @whoseblogsthis and i completely finessed this chapter, i’m so proud of it sooo i hope you guys like it too <3

chapter one || chapter 3

The two heroes started in. Neither of them was looking forward to this, knowing the outcome would arrive after cuts and bruises, yet Ladybug lunged toward the threat without hesitation. Within seconds of her pursuit, her path was blocked by a pillar of rock bursting from the ground.

“What the hell?” she said to herself as dust was rising in billows around her. “Chat, be careful,” she shouted across the way, “she had some kind of rock manipulation.”

Chat leaped across the expanse, claws outstretched toward Gi Magissa, ready to pounce. He didn’t see it coming, the tree in the background coming to life before a branch swung out and wrapped around his ankles, effectively pulling him back. The branches stretched out fast, unpredictably, like it had a mind of its own.

Suddenly, white-hot-searing pain ripped through his side like a scalding knife. Chat cried out loudly, his scream causing Ladybug to whip her head in his direction. His body went limp for a moment as the tree’s tentacle-like branches moved around him.

 Ladybug’s chest tightened, her thoughts muddled by blind panic. No, no no no no, her thoughts screamed at her. She held her breath, her body frozen in time as she waited for him to shift, to move, to do anything.

“You’re nothing without your counterpart Ladybug. You’re weak.” Gi Magissa hissed out in an almost snakelike way. Her words coiled around Ladybug and threatened to squeeze the life out of her.

The heroine knew she was trying to distract her from helping Chat, her words attempting to create hopelessness and doubt as she screamed for her partner to surface.

“I thought she controlled rocks?” Chat exclaimed breathlessly, his body struggling against the thin bark around his ankles as he seemed to come to life. Ladybug exhaled, her lungs screaming for oxygen. She knew that she lost time by waiting for her partner. She couldn’t freeze like that again, she couldn’t afford to. Ladybug prided herself in rarely letting her emotions get the better of her in battle, but this had thrown her.

Get yourself together LB, you have a job to do.

It was when Ladybug swung at Gi Magissa once again and the tree went lifeless, releasing Chat Noir who let out a sharp yelp before quickly leaping to his feet, that she realized two things. One, the villain must have the ability to manipulate the earth. But two, this could be important, she could only control one thing at a time. If she was busy worrying about holding off Ladybug, she couldn’t worry about Chat and vice versa.

This was the opening they needed to get in their hits.

“Chat, let’s go with the old one-two, yeah?” she shouted at him. She knew that he would know what she meant without having to verbalize it. They needed to get to her without voicing their plans, or she’d just be one step ahead.

Gi Magissa was fast and they both found that out the hard way. Even though it was only early on in the fight, they couldn’t afford any more slip-ups like that. Granted, they were only just figuring out her power, but Chat was already wounded, and the way he was cradling his side made her think it was worse than he let on.

They needed to hurry. At that moment was all or nothing. Ladybug and Chat went at her with everything they had, getting in close to her in order to avoid any surprises from far away.

Ladybug’s yoyo was virtually useless at that point due to her proximity to Magissa, so she had to rely on her hand-to-hand experience. She went at her from the left, kicking out her leg to hit her head. She evaded the attack easily as if she saw it coming from a mile away, sending a spray of knife-like stones at Ladybug.

Despite her attempts to dodge the rocks, one stray spike grazed her side. She cried out, her suit now torn as blood spilt on the sidewalk. Her body lurched back and hit the ground harshly. Though her yoyo was already thrown out in front of her, she didn’t have nearly enough time to brace herself as a sharp piece of earth hit from behind. She felt like a rag doll being thrown around from side to side with nothing for her to fall back onto as a safety net.

Her vision was going blurry, her voice too ragged to call out to her partner. Turning her head to the side, she squinted through the dust as she tried to catch a glimpse of Chat Noir. Though he was doing better than she was, her counterpart was struggling.

Get up Marinette, you can do this, she told herself as she gritted her teeth. Tears of pain were streaking down the sides of her face, washing away a line of dirt from the side of her cheek.

She needed to get up. She had to get up.

Ladybug went for Gi Mágissa again, a vine suddenly emerging from a crack in the sidewalk. She knew he didn’t catch it slithering across the asphalt toward him until his legs were pulled out from under him. She watched helplessly as his head hit the ground once again. He felt like he was going to vomit from the throbbing of his head, nearly seeing stars in the middle of the day..

“Chat!” Ladybug screeched. Shit shit shit shit.

Despite the hit he took, her partner willed himself back up. He darted at the akumatized who, fortunately for the two heroes, didn’t seem to notice Chat until he had wrapped his legs around her front with his chest to her back. His one arm wrapped tightly yet not too roughly around her neck in hopes of losing consciousness rather than something fatal.

Ladybug reached for the villain’s staff, made of something like tree bark, and snapped it in half over her knee.

No Akuma.

Her eyes widened in surprise, nearly crying out of frustration. This had draChat was grabbed then and thrown back by the same vine that tripped Ladybug.

Normally, their suits usually kept them from sustaining any terrible physical injuries, Ladybug knew when she detransformed, the damage would only be worse; bruises to tend to as soon as she arrived back at her home. And from his encounter with the tree, she was sure Chat’s civilian self was not going to be much better off.

It seemed like it took a hundred tries to find where this villain’s Akuma was. This one definitely wasn’t from Francoise Dupont High School, nor were they someone neither Ladybug nor Cat Noir knew in their civilian form.

Ladybug called upon her lucky charm and using her keen observation skills, finally, they located the Akuma, an unsuspecting pine-coloured fanny pack around her slim waist.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation, their bruises and gashes feeling stupid after having to go through their worst battle just to take a fanny pack.

The red superhero went over to her partner, quickly informing him of her plan.

“Cataclysm!” Chat called out, before running at the earth enchantress once again.

He was careful not to touch anything, simultaneously bracing himself for the inevitable– a rock or a stone or a vine or a tree– to stop him. Once he had completely taken Gi Mágissa’s attention, Ladybug leapt into action, ripping the fannypack from the akumatized’s waist.

Ladybug threw it to Chat, who cataclysmed the bag. The unsuspecting Akuma flew out, its dark wings flapping in the rain. Ladybug swung her yo-yo, captured and released the butterfly, and flung her lucky charm in the air, undoing the damage done to Paris by Gi Mágissa.

“Your earrings,” Chat noted just as said miraculous gave a loud blip. “I’ll help her.”

Just then, his ring beeped steadily.

“I’ll be- I’ll be okay,” the de-akumatized young woman told the superheroes. “I- yeah, I need to find my mom.”

“You sure?” Ladybug questioned. Her anxiety was building in her as the beeping became even more insistent, her throat tightening in worry.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

Ladybug gave a firm nod before swinging her yo-yo at a traffic light. She threw across the rooftops of Paris for a few short moments before she found an alley right behind a restaurant that seemed to be experiencing slow business.

Before she could even take a break, she heard the thump of footsteps. he looked up to find Cat Noir with his eyes wide.

Before either of them could process what was happening, before either of them even had time to get away from the other, the flash of red and green lit up the damp, dingy alley. Their kwamis emerged from their miraculous, tired and worn out.

The miraculous holder's jaws went slack in shock, the sight in front of the impossible.

It came out as breath, hardly even air as they said the word at the same time.

“You."