#with the difference what they take better care of their daggers than of themselves

[maegalkarven]

I have the suspicion what the Cult of Murder wasn't very keen on healing/ had many healers around.

They probs had healing potions and scrolls and stuff, but do you think Durge would bother with them? Or would they, intimately familiar with the anatomy of the body, occasionally treat their own wounds with the cold precision of a surgeon?

What I have in mind is Durge casually sewing their own wounds shut with the first found rusty needle and something they deemed would suffice for a thread, Gortash seeing this horrific display and deciding enough is enough and taking the ordeal of healing this freak of an ally into his own hands.

[redfurrycat]

🤠🐕‍🦺☃️🐾🏍️🐱🐓Animal Companions Fic Recs🐓🏍️🐱🐾☃️🐕‍🦺🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Aphroditedany, Bbr1, BeautifulCreature, Buckybraciole, Callsignyours, Demiclar, Emmedoesntdomath, Indybob, Kazanskysmitchell, Kerbyfullyloaded, LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade, Lesbiseresin, LoveChildofInsertShowHere, SunMonTue, Teacupivy, ThisisYour_Captain_Speaking, ToukoJalorda003, Whimsicule.

Art Bonus - (coming soon)

> Mythological Creatures & Shapeshifters {🤠🐓} > Daily Heroes/Animal Care {🤠🐓}

his dark materials / dæmon AU by buckybraciole {T} {🤠🐓}

A series of one-shots about fighter pilots and their dæmons.

Golden Retriever Puppy by bbr1 {G} {🤠🐓}

“Have you ever had a dog?” Jake asks. “Nah, who am I kidding. Of course you haven’t. I’m going to get you a dog.”

Bad Idea! by LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade {T} {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Bradley: Hey, are you and Ice around? Well, this is slightly odd Mav thought but he replied anyway. Yeah, why? Bradley: We have our baby! We’ll be there in 10. Mav almost dropped his phone at the reply. What the fuck. Bradley Bradshaw, you better call me this instant.

A cat named Crow by LoveChildofInsertShowHere {T}

The Meowfect Evening {☃️🏍️}

Sometimes a kitten can make an evening even better

Some Birds Can't Fly {☃️🏍️}

Crow becomes more of a part of the Mitchell-Kazansky family

How Crow Won Slider's Heart {☃️🏍️}

Sometimes a cat will settle an insane debate better than Ice can

The Bumps in Quiet Nights {☃️🏍️}

Ice worries when Maverick takes too long to come back home from picking up dinner

And A Partridge in a Pear Tree {☃️🏍️}

Mav and Ice obtain 3 new family members in the form of kittens

Is it a Racoon? {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Rooster meets the new additions to the Mitchell-Kazansky family and gets talked into getting a pet

Goosebumps {🤠🐓}

Jake and Bradley find the perfect cat for them, which brings up some emotions for Bradley

How to make a Flock {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Mav discovers a box full of kittens on the side of the road on his way to suprise Ice at work

Nick's worst weekend ever by Aphroditedany {T} {🤠🐓}

Nick Bradshaw, Bradley Bradshaw's cat, might unexpectedly bring him closer to a charming co-pilot. It doesn't mean Nick likes it, though.

Skies of Dust by kerbyfullyloaded {T} {☃️🏍️}

Walking into the sky

Pete Mitchell was fourteen when his daemon settled. It took him a few years to join her in the sky, wings on his chest and steel all around him.

Every atom of me and every atom of you

The turn of a dial, snapshots of a life, dust all around. Maverick, Iceman, and their daemons in the years between 1987 and 2019. "'On,' said the alethiometer. Farther, higher. So on they climbed." The Subtle Knife (or: a series of stories based on the different symbols of the alethiometer, a sequel to Walking into the Sky)

at my side by demiclar {M} {☃️🏍️}

"If there's one thing Maverick is good at, it's taking care of his own." Slider said, throwing his arm around his shoulders and tugging him close. "I'm just glad we can return the favor from time to time." Pete Mitchell came back from the Dagger mission with PTSD worse than he'd ever experienced before. His family is eager to help, but piecing themselves back together after a decade of separation is a challenge not easily overcome. Pete isn’t the best at accepting help, and the family’s problems go deeper than expected, but they won’t stop trying until they bring everyone home.

Goose the Dog and Mav the Human, the Fun Never Ends by ThisisYour_Captain_Speaking {G}

Man's Best Friend

Maverick is one of the most kind hearted people ever and the things he loves, he does so with everything he has. Why not let him have a dog? AKA What if Theo was originally Mav's dog?

Well Well Well, What Have We Here?

It's Fourth of July Weekend and Ice has invited friends and their families over to celebrate. However, before the day of the actual celebration, Mav takes his dog Goose out for a run. Will they be able to beat the storm brewing or will Mav land himself in trouble yet again?

Wrench the Golden Retriever by emmedoesntdomath {T} {☃️🏍️}

“Mav, please tell me you didn’t get us a dog.” Silence. He sighed. The contractually obligated hey-I-bought-a-dog-without-asking-and-then-gave-it-a-name-you’ll-hate-but-you-should-still-love-me fic

call it what you want by lesbiseresin {M} {🤠🐓}

“Shit, Mav,” Bradley says through a laugh as he squats down, leaving his beer on the railing so he has both hands free to stick out. “You finally get me that dog I was always asking for?” It’s another joke. He knows that Theo belongs to Penny and Amelia, but there has to be a reason Maverick is bringing this up. “You caught me,” Maverick deadpans. Bradley can see Penny elbow him out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t bother looking up, too engrossed in the happy pants Theo is letting out as Bradley switches to scratching under his chin. “You could say I did. Sort of.” “Sort of, huh?” (alternatively: jake & bradley getting their shit together ft. theo the dog)

Dust is Everlasting (And Love Even Moreso) by ToukoJalorda003 {M} {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

If Time Rewound to Dust (Love Would Endure Anyway)

All Rooster had ever wanted was to work for Jurassic World - his godfather did, and for his whole life, it had been his dream. Now he finally had it, and he…wasn’t so sure how he felt about Hangman. The man was just too dangerous, too unpredictable, and Rooster feared it would end in disaster. …But disaster had found them anyway, and now it was starting to look like it was too late to accept Hangman’s offer for a date. Damn.

When Dust is all That Remains (Love is Eternally Present)

After the events of the park’s catastrophic closing, Bradley just wanted to rest. Maybe take a nap and remind himself what he’d nearly had. But he couldn’t do that, because an active volcano was going to wipe out the remaining dinosaurs - including Jake’s raptors. …And if it was possible, he wasn’t going to let that happen. Maybe, while he was at it, he’d finally get that date, too.

be the ocean where I unravel by whimsicule {T} {🤠🐓}

He’s not even thirty years old. A lieutenant in the United States Navy. A highly-decorated aviator with two air-to-air kills. And he’s suddenly gone ahead and become scared of the goddamn sea. What a fucking joke.

make a lil' room for me by callsignyours {G} {🤠🐓}

Jake somehow ends up with Bradley's dog.

The Tiniest Problem by BeautifulCreature {G} {🤠🐓}

Bradley has an allergic reaction to his and Jake's new puppy.

Mine, Immaculate Dream by kazanskysmitchell {M} {☃️🏍️}

After the ever-so-stressful Dagger mission, Pete Mitchell is tired and craves some normalcy. It's seemingly difficult for him to return to normal this time, and his protective (and very worried) husband can't help but notice the changes in Pete's mental health. After an official PTSD diagnosis, being permanently grounded, and the adoption of a service dog, Pete Mitchell attempts to adjust, but can't do it without the help of his wingman and their adopted and dysfunctional family. (+ art from Cannibal_Hellhound)

better than your best dreams by teacupivy {M} {🤠🐓}

“Hey,” he says, nudging Bradly with his toes. “You brought Aubergine in, right?” Jake watches Bradley look up from his screen, stare into the mid distance, and decide to lie to him. “…Yes.” Tense and robotic, he slides his laptop onto the coffee table and slips out from beneath Jake’s legs. “Unrelated, I’ll be right back.”

With our pets, a house becomes our home by SunMonTue {E} {🤠🐓}

Jake adopts a puppy and then proceeds to fly across the country to take up a flight instructor position at Corpus Christi where Bradley is the vet (DVM) that Jake takes Brisket to once he arrives. Bradley asks him out. MeetCute.

Domestic Bliss by indybob {T} {🤠🐓}

Jake has had the longest week of his life. Between hops, training, and instructing, he’s worn out. Noticing how exhausted his husband is, Bradley takes it upon himself to go above and beyond to give Jake the most relaxing evening and weekend possible. Or: Much like Jake in this story, I’ve been very busy for the last couple of weeks, so I’m using this as my own form of catharsis. Feat. Brisket the Dog

Come on baby light my fire… by SunMonTue {E} {🤠🐓}

An apartment fire alarm at 1am featuring Jake in his underwear and Bradley with kittens.

[justabigassnerd]

Hangman Junior

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader

Word count - 2,212

Warnings - swearing, angst (it's me, what do you expect?), mentions of death, alcohol, mentions of Hangman having shitty parents

Summary - Before training begins for the uranium mission, Dagger Squad meets Hangman's teenage daughter. And she's a carbon copy of her father

A/N - another request lads! This was a fun one to explore and write! We all know I'm a sucker for Hangman so anything I get to write for him is fun! I'll stop rambling now but as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

When those called back to Top Gun walked through the doors of the Hard Deck and saw Hangman leant against the pool table, chatting with Coyote their hearts sank slightly. Those who trained with Hangman knew how he flew and how he’d leave his wingmen behind in a heartbeat. Those who hadn’t just knew of his reputation to leave people behind but also that he’s one of the only naval aviators on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill which earned him a slither of their respect.

What all those naval aviators didn’t know, except for Coyote, was that Jake Seresin had a teenage daughter who was relying on him to come home every time he went away. He knew it was selfish of him, to leave others behind knowing they had loved ones too, but he needed to make it back to you every time because you had no other family.

He had always had a rocky relationship with his parents growing up, feeling pressured to be the ‘perfect’ son who would take over the family ranch when the Navy had always been his dream. He ended up getting a high school girlfriend pregnant halfway through their senior year which really tipped his parents over the edge. He was forced to move out and found a cheap apartment he could rent with his girlfriend so they could live somewhat comfortably until the baby was born. The day his daughter was born was the best day of his life, miles high above days like graduating from the academy or coming first in his class at Top Gun. However, one day, not long before Jake was due to head out to the naval academy for his basic training. He woke up to find his girlfriend gone, leaving behind nothing more than a note stating that she was sorry, that she didn’t want that kind of life and had left you in his care ever since.

“How’s the kid, Hangman?” Coyote asked as the two played pool and Hangman’s eyes flicked up to where the rest of the team were conversing amongst themselves, not listening to what Coyote said.

“She’s doing good. You can come over tomorrow if you want. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to see her favourite uncle is also in town.” Hangman says with a smirk as Coyote rolls his eyes jokingly. Since Hangman and Coyote had become friends when you were little, you had taken to calling Coyote your ‘Uncle Javy’ and it simply never dropped as you grew into your teens.

“I’m her only uncle she better be happy to see me.” Coyote responds, his tone teasing as he takes his next shot at the pool table. Coyote would never admit it to anyone, but he secretly loved that you considered him an uncle. It meant he was a trusted person in both your and Hangman’s lives. It also somewhat reassured Jake that there would be someone to look out for you if something were to happen to him. Just as Hangman went to reply to his friend, he caught a glimpse of a familiar Hawaiian shirt which brought a grin to his face.

“Bradshaw. As I live and breathe.” He calls out to the taller pilot, straightening up from where he’d been lining up his next shot.

“Hangman. You look… good.” Rooster replies, barely glancing Hangman’s way as he speaks. The two had a rivalry when they went through Top Gun together. Both were competitors for the top spot but had vastly different flying styles. Rooster was careful, he stuck to the book and would overthink what he was doing. Hangman was fast and would always strike first and ask questions later.

“I am good, Rooster. I am very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.” Hangman gloats as he approaches his rival. The two bicker back and forth before Jake decides to get himself another beer from the bar. He returns to the group of aviators and goes back to talking with Coyote. Eventually, the scattered groups all come together to ask if anyone knows who’s going to be training them for the missions considering every pilot who has been called back is the best of the best. They debated for a while before Coyote leaned close to Hangman’s ear.

“What’s y/n doing here?” He asks, making Hangman immediately scan the bar before he saw you approaching with a cheeky smile on your face. Hangman clenched his jaw slightly and moved to meet you in the middle.

“y/n, what are you doing here?” Hangman asked the second he reached you, trying not to let his annoyance show.

“Hello to you too, dad.” You say, rolling your eyes. Behind the two of you, the naval aviators heard you and started whispering amongst themselves, confused as to what the hell was going on.

“You can’t be in a bar. You’re too young.” Hangman scolds, staring down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I can be in this bar. Penny said so.” You retort, folding your arms across your chest as you remember the day Penny first found out that Jake was a single father and said you were welcome to come in the bar as long as you stuck with your dad and didn’t cause trouble.

“You’re a pain in my ass. You know that, right?” Hangman laughs as he shakes his head.

“Yet you still love me.” You grin, moving to walk past your dad when you notice Coyote.

“That I do.” He mutters to himself when you reach Coyote, allowing him to pull you into a hug as your dad watches on with a soft smile before moving to join the two of you.

“Hey y/n/n.” Coyote greets you happily as he releases you from the hug.

“Hi, Uncle Javy.” You reply with a smile as you step back.

“Dad? Uncle Javy? Is anyone going to explain this to us?” You turn around to see a man with a moustache in a Hawaiian shirt glancing between the three of you with a confused expression.

“Was the fact I’m calling him dad not obvious enough for you, Rooster?” You retort, watching Rooster’s face shift to a face of shock while your dad bites back a laugh beside you.

“How did you-”

“Dad could never stop talking about you when the two of you were in Top Gun. He was even talking about the chances of seeing you before he left the house earlier. It’s also easy to put a face to the name when dad’s mentioned things like you always wearing Hawaiian shirts.” You shrug after finishing your explanation. You hear Coyote snigger beside you which makes you smile.

“Oh, she’s definitely Hangman’s kid.” You look over at the brown-haired woman who said that, and you nod proudly.

“That I am.” You say as your dad wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you into his side.

“And with that, let’s stop bothering my kid.” Hangman says, a glimmer of protectiveness rising within him. He glances between his new teammates and sees that they’re itching to ask questions.

“y/n, why don’t you head on home?” He asks you, looking down at you.

“No. I’m happy to hang out here. It’s kind of depressing sitting alone in an empty house.” You say, making Hangman’s face soften. The team watched curiously, having never seen any softness come from this man before. They could only assume this was Jake Seresin and not Hangman. He was your dad before he was Hangman so his priorities would always be you.

“Okay fine. But you’re to always stay in mine or Javy’s line of sight. Got it?” He says, a slight sternness sneaking into his tone.

“You got it, dad.” You reply, earning a nod from your dad as he returns to his pool game while you find somewhere nearby to sit. You were quickly approached by some of your dads’ new teammates, all gagging to know more about you and your dad. You listened to all their questions and gave them answers. You had to admit that these new teammates were nice, and they seemed like people you could trust to make sure your dad came home during this secret mission. Even Rooster seemed like a nice enough guy despite your dad doing nothing but bitch about him when they went through Top Gun. You enjoyed getting to know his teammates, and they could keep up with your sass quite easily, with Phoenix saying you were a nicer version of Hangman.

“I’m calling it now. y/n is now a part of our team from here on out.” Fanboy says, slinging an arm around your shoulder and jostling you as you laugh.

“Guys, can you promise me something?” You say once the laughter dies down. The mood suddenly becoming serious at your words.

“What is it?” Bob asks, placing his cup down on the table as all eyes are on you. You glance over at where your dad and Javy are still playing pool, chatting to each other happily.

“Promise me that you’ll make sure my dad comes home. Uncle Javy too. They’re the only family I have, and I can’t lose them.” You admit, eyes lowering to stare at the floor of the Hard Deck. The naval aviators exchange looks with each other. They had all only known Hangman, the cocky naval aviator who would ditch his wingmen in a heartbeat and they weren’t keen on that. But now they had met you and discovered a new side of him that they had never seen before, and they were all willing to make this work with him for your sake. But they also knew they couldn’t make a promise like that. With a mission so secret that they hadn’t even been given the brief for yet was only flashing warning signs to them about how dangerous this mission could be.

“We promise we’ll do our best to bring them home to you.” Rooster was the first to speak up. He knew the pain of losing a parent and he’d be damned if he let you go through the same thing. He was more than willing to put his rivalry with Hangman to the side for you. He could only hope that Hangman would extend the same courtesy to him. You shifted your gaze to Rooster as he spoke, a small appreciative smile on your face at his words. You knew it was a big ask but you decided it was worth the risk.

“Thank you, Rooster. You know, you’re not as bad as dad made you out to be.” You say, your smile growing when Rooster rolls his eyes at your words.

“And you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be Hangman junior.” He replies, making you scoff jokingly, easing the tension that had just been created. You continue to chat with the team, laughing as your dad, Javy and Payback chucked some random guy out of the bar when the bell rang, even joining in when Rooster began to play ‘Great Balls of Fire’. As it began to get later, your dad approached where you were sitting and rested a hand on your shoulder.

“Come on y/n/n. We should think about heading home. You’ve got school and I’ve got an early start tomorrow.” Your dad says, making you groan but still get to your feet, bidding everyone goodbye before following your dad out to his truck.

“I like your team. They seem nice.” You say with a smile as you get settled in your seat, plugging in your seatbelt.

“Even Bradshaw?” Jake replies with a raised eyebrow as he starts the engine.

“Yes, even Rooster. They’re much nicer than your last team. Those guys were dickheads.”

“Hey, what have I been saying about language?” You roll your eyes at the light scolding, uttering a quiet and insincere apology as you settle back in your seat as you begin the journey back to your house.

Back in the Hard Deck, the team had watched both you and Hangman leave the bar and the second they saw the two of you leave their line of sight they fell into discussions once more about how they couldn’t believe Hangman had a daughter, except Coyote who just watched and laughed.

“Guess we’re all watching out for Hangman on this mission then, huh?” Payback says, leaning back in his chair as he sips from his beer bottle.

“For the kid's sake.” Rooster swoops in quickly, drawing the line about why they were doing this in the first place.

“Oh, sure Rooster. I bet this has nothing to do with the obvious crush you have on Hangman.” Coyote teases, making Rooster’s face flush deep red as he scrambles to deny the blatantly obvious fact that was just stated as everyone laughs.

None of the team could have anticipated that they were going to end today knowing that Hangman is a father and that the whole team would now go to the ends of the earth to protect his daughter despite her being a carbon copy of her dad. All they could do now was accept the fact and do what they could to watch out for the Seresin father and daughter duo.

[stories-from-the-shaded-moon]

To Feed the Bird

Fic inspired by @isasan347 art!

And somewhat my Captivity whumptober from last year-

This wasn’t supposed to happen, right? Like, the real heroes were supposed to be going through these portals! Like Mr. Hero! He was supposed to be seeing this giant purple-gold rift and walk through.

But Ravio was with the big guy’s wife, the buff one’s probable boyfriend, the scarred one’s nephew, the short one’s grandpa, the pirate’s uncle, Impa, and the chosen’s best friend.

It wasn’t like he’d never gone through an era-bending portal before. But, there was no way everyone here had battle experience.

They found themselves in the woods, fog swaying across the ground. The short one’s grandpa, Smith, recognized it as Minish Woods.

Groose, with the approval of Malon, asked Tulin to scout the area. Now they were all sitting around a fire, waiting for the young Rito to return.

Impa handed out the rations to everyone soon enough. Just a pack of a few crackers. Ravio stared at the pack feeling as if he would cry. Usually Linebeck voiced Ravio’s thoughts, but he was quiet tonight.

Ravio ripped open the pack and ate one out of six crackers. He was lucky that each one was the size of his palm.

Ravio winced as he felt a sharp scratch on his head. He brought his hand up and, sure enough, his faithful companion took a spot perched on his outstretched finger. Sheerow had been hanging around Groose for some time, but Ravio thought it better not to question it.

Sheerow chiros were squeaky and short, but Ravio felt a comfort in them. Sheerow’s chiros never changed no matter what they’d been through together.

He wondered if this is how Link felt. Going to all of these random different countries, for the only constant to be that dumb hat he held onto.

Goddesses he missed Link.

The fire went out and a puff of air blasted in Ravio’s face.

“Up, up! They’re coming!” Ravio felt his ears perk upward. Link was coming!

“Who’s coming?” Everyone was on their feet at the arrival of the Rito child.

“Monsters!” Ravio’s ears flattened. Of course. Ravio turned around and grabbed his hammer, bringing it up to place its weight on his shoulder.

That was when the shuffling became easy to hear. Looking around, almost no one was armed. Impa still had her sword, Tulin had his bow, Shad had given Groose his dagger, and that was it.

“Tulin, stay back and protect the others as best as you can,” Impa ordered, her once light voice turning cold.

The hairs on the back of Ravio’s neck stood as the first bokoblin breached the tree line. He rushed in, his hammer whistling in the wind. He caught a boko’s stomach and it flew into the one next to it.

Ravio knew, with the letters Link used to send him, that they wouldn’t go down that easy, but he swung at the next bunch.

His arms were starting to grow tired. Impa told him to fall back, to help Tulin protect the others. This wasn’t working. Impa and Groose had cuts all over, so did he, but he wasn’t doing anything back here!

Some years ago, he’d be cowering in fear, begging Hilda to save him.

“Ravio,” he jolted at the tap on his back. Her hand grabbed his hammer before he could protest. “Let me ‘ave a try at the mallet, yeah?”

Ravio pressed his lips into a thin line before letting Malon take his weapon. She twirled it in her hands before looking onto the onslaught of monsters with a look Ravio could only describe as whimsy on her face before she dashed forward.

She bashed a monster, it turned into dust before it hit the ground. He heard Impa laugh as Malon began to clear more and more monsters with his mallet.

Ravio told Malon to keep the mallet. She was more useful than he was with it.

Ravio ate another cracker, his stomach begged for it, but his head begged him not to. Impa’s eyes told him that his mind was far smarter than his mouth. Most of him didn’t care anymore.

“You know those are rations, right?” Ravio’s eye twitched at Groose’s words.

“Yes, but I’m hungry.”

“You haven’t done anything to be hungry.” Ravio’s hand stilled mid-bite.

“Groose,” Malon said, her voice quizzical.

“You got tired so fast that Malon had to take your place, and she did better than you!” Ravio threw his cracker at Groose and stood up.

Behind Ravio’s eyes, he saw the blood and bones of monsters and Hylians alike. Unlike what society would say, they all bleed the same. No matter what color, no matter what race. They all bleed red.

Ravio stood in front of Groose, his eyes wide. “Shut up.”

“Boys,” Smith stood from across the fire they remade.

Groose’s eyebrows furrowed. “I dare-“

Ravio yanked Groose’s collar so their faces were only inches apart. “My name might not be Link, but I am his counterpart, or do I need to prove it?”

“That is enough!” Ravio felt a spike of pain in his ear and quickly let go of Groose.

“Ow! Let me- oof!” He was thrown back next to his bag, Malon standing over him. “Eat your food, Ravio.”

“Well-“

“You’re not angry hun, you’re hungry. Eat,” Malon sat beside Ravio. “That goes for him too.” She nodded to Groose who was being scolded by Smith.

Ravio sighed, aggressively chomping on his remaining crackers.

“You know, he has been feeding your bird lately.” Malon hummed.

“With what? I wasn’t-“ Ravio suddenly stopped his chewing, a sinking feeling filling his chest. “Oh…”

“Yeah. I should’ve told him to stop, but he just…” she glanced over at Groose who also begrudgingly gnawed at his crackers. “He looked his age, you know? He says that he’s only twenty-two, but he always looks like he’s twenty-seven or twenty-eight. When he fed your bird, he looked twenty-two.”

Ravio glared at the grass under him.

“Your bird sits next to him even now, see?” Ravio looked over and saw exactly that. Sheerow jumped around Groose’s hand that held the cracker. Groose looked down at Sheerow with such a regretful look, Ravio felt it in his soul.

Ravio’s shoulders unknowingly untensed at the sight. “Sheerow!” He called, his companion flew over. Ravio didn’t miss how Groose’s eyes followed Sheerow.

Ravio broke off a quarter of his cracker. “Ravio,” Malon protested, but the quarter was in Sheerow’s beak before his name fully came out.

Ravio glanced up and saw Groose’s eyes relax as he took his bites out of his own crackers.

“He’s my friend. I should’ve paid more attention to him.” Ravio sighed. “Maybe I should apologize…”

[slutforsnow]

Chapter 9

FIRST DAY FESTIVAL TIME :3

TW/CW: Possessive/obsessive Coryo murderous thoughts

When the train that weaved its way through the districts arrived at D2, Sunni practically leaped off the train and hugged her friends who were waiting at the station for her. The friend group was quite large, comprising of maybe 6 people.

"Cori, Sej, come here, you guys gotta meet my friends!!" She called, waving to the boys as they gathered their own + Sunni's luggage off the train.

Getting a closer look at Sunni's friend group, Coriolanus realized that she had a very mixed group of friends; black, white, desi, indian, boys, girls, androgynous, plus sized, and skinny friends. He didn't think negatively of that fact, though; he thought it was nice to see her have a large and very close group of friends. Most girls back at the Academy just just stick 1 to 3 people, and there'd be one poc at the most.

"Guys, this is Coriolanus Snow and Sejanus!" She introduced stepping to the side, allowing everyone to shake hands. "Cori, Sej, these are my friends Nero Amadeus; he/him, Maxima Benedictus; he/she/they, Nataila Catullus; any and neos, Viktor Dellis; he/it, Vivian Diamandis; she/her, and the twins Dele, & Demitri Chaconas!"

A chorus of hellos and heys and followed Sunnis friends as the boys shook hands and introduced themselves to Sunni's friends.

"So, Sunshine, how's the Capitol?" Maxima asked as the residents of District 2 led the Plinths + Coryo to the hotel where the Academy students would be staying.

"Uh, shiny," Sunni answered. "And there's more douchebags."

"Ha, fuckin' told you Vik!" Demitri interrupted, reaching over to smack Viktor in the back of the head. He simply ducked, snickering as they instead hit Sunni.

"Hey-!!"

"Sorry, Sun, Vik ducked!"

Nataila laughed to herself as Vivian and Dele shared a look that read "they're so childish".

As the group chatted excitedly about plans for the week and caught up, learning about the Capitol as well, Coryo was glaring daggers at one of the males; Nero Amadeus.

Nero had his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he listened to the chatter, smiling as Sunni. He was happy to see her so excited and to be reunited with her friends but Coryo didn't know why and I was determined to get a straight answer out of the brunette or beat it out of him.

Cracking his knuckles and tossed his suitcase, which was actually Sejanus' that he was borrowing (read as stole), onto his bed once the group reached the hotel; all the Academy children were were on the top two floors and Sunni's group had the highest one.

"I don't trust that Amaedus guy," He huffed out to Sejanus.

"What? Nero? Why?" Sej asked, setting his backup suitcase on his bed.

"I dunno- I just get a bad feeling from him," He replied, tearing his hoodie off as he spoke.

"He seems pretty chill—besides, we just met the guy. It might just be your paranoia since this is your first time in 2," Sejanus offered, taking off his sweater and setting it on his bed.

"No, I don't think it's the paranoia. I'd know if it's the paranoia."

"Jealousy?" Coryo almost laughed. Him? Jealous? Over what? A girl that's not his yet?

"Jealousy, Sej? Really? Im not dating her, so why would i be jealous?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Friends can be jealous. Hell, I thought Sunni would've replaced me after me, dad, and ma moved to the Capitol, buy she still cares just as much after a decade," Sejanus answered, opening the curtains to check our the view.

"That's different, you're family," the blonde snapped, falling back onto his bed. The was comfy; it felt like it was made entirely out of feathers, and it felt way better than his bed at home.

"Yeah, I suppose, but we should trust them. After all, they've been around Sunni longer than either of us, and for the past 10 years, I've only seen her on visits."

Coryo scoffed and rolled his eyes, mumbling whatever. He was going to find out if Nero had a thing for Sunni and if he needed to dispose of him to make sure he didn't get a chance.

But he'd also have to make sure that no one else would find out about how Nero "went missing". He needed Sunni to completely trust him, no matter the cost.

An awkward silence filled the room, only to be disrupted by loud music entering the room. Coryo sat up, glaring at where the music was supposedly coming from; he didn't need a headache before the festival.

"The hell is that?" Sej inquired, coming out of the bathroom, zipping up his fly. Coryo shrugged, and the two left their room, to see what the noise was. Seeing a door was cracked open, they gently pushed the door open and Coryo feel his blood boil.

Nero and Sunni were dancing to some upbeat and chaotic aong, singing along with it as the others were laughing and talking about an itinerary that Sunni made at some point. When did she make an itinerary, Coryo had no idea, but he didn't care right now. All he cared about was separating his girl from some loser nobody.

"So do you guys plan on making everyone else deaf?" Sejanus shouted over the music, grabbing the others' attention.

"Sorry, Sej, this is what we do all the time!" Sunni shouted back, letting go of Nero so he could turn up his hearing aids once the music was off.

"Why?" He yelled back, walking into the room, followed by Coryo, who was glaring daggers at Nero.

"Why not? It's an homage to how we met; loud music," Sunni replied, laughing as Dele turned the music down.

"Yep: we were all at a skate park, testing our skates and boards and we started bonding over some loud music people were playing," Demitri added as Viktor kicked their ass in another round of COD.

"Dude, how do you get so good at Call of Duty?"

"Eh, having divorced parents who always argue make it easy to find time to game," He replied with a shrug.

"So divorced parents equals being a god at Call of Duty?" Nataila teased, grinning.

"I mean, in my case, yeah."

"So then what does having a dead parent equal?" Maxima inquired.

"Art skills," Sunni answered, hopping her happy little butt onto the counter.

Coryo made his way to her as the others gasped and told Sunni she was quote unquote "wrong for that" while trying not to laugh despite Sunni giving them permission to, when Sunni was laughing and laid his head on her shoulder.

She beamed at this sudden "affection," and gently scratched the top of his head.

"Hi, Cori," She whispered to him as the others, including Sejanus, started talking about things they could do for the first day of the festival.

"Hey, Sunshine," He murmured, his breath hot against her neck.

"You okay?" She asked, gently lifting his head to meet his semi-relaxed gaze.

"Just feel better around you," He lied to her. Well, he wasn't really lying, but he couldn't say he was claiming what's his. He couldn't scare her off. He wouldn't scare her off.

"Okay," She replied, smiling and letting him go back to nuzzling her. Fortunately for Coriolanus, Sunni didn't notice the hateful and murderous glare he was sending towards Nero, who was chatting absent-mindly with Maxima.

Late into the afternoon, once all the Academy students were settled, the group had set off to explore District 2 and everything that had been set up.

Games, of course, for the little kids who had rich families or the Academy kids who had younger siblings or students who wanted to relax and feel like a child again, but also dancing, music, and all sorts of different delicacies. It was so wonderful, filling, and fun that they all felt calm. Even with the occasional dead dad or divorced parents jokes, which Coryo learned were coping methods that Sunni and Viktor used to cope with the loss, everyone felt happy.

But Coryo wasn't happy. People were calling to Sunni, getting hugs and having her full attention. Sejanus, at one point, had to restrain Coryo from committing any more crimes again because a guy hugged Sunni for 2 minutes too long.

Sure, Sunni reassured him and said he was "just a friend," but Coryo had countered with "friend's don't have their hands way too low where they shouldn't be." Which eventually led to Sunni nodding but telling him he didn't need to jealous because they guy was 15 and just really tall. At that point, Coryo let it go and gave in but has held her close to him, not wanting anyone to pull her away from him. As the group walked to another restaurant to check out the place, Sejanus shot Coryo a text wearing a shit eating grin.

Sejanus: Not jealous, hm? You haven't let go of Sunni since we found out about the loud music lmfao

Seen

Coryo rolled his eyes, seeing the text. Of course, he wasn't going to let go of Sunni. People could've turned against her after she was transferred to the Capitol, for God's sake! He had to protect his girl, even from her own friends if he had to.

Then Sejanus sent Coryo another text, but it was a photo of Coryo with his arms around Sunni's waist and holding her small hands in his and he had his head on top of hers.

He smiled a little at the picture and saved it to his phone before putting his phone in his pocket.

He'd make that his lockscreen later.

Tags: @etfrin @hearts4court @snows-wife @delusionalbunni @kiraflowersworld @victory-scream0462 @curled-hair-red-lips @morallygrayboys @phoward89 @xoxo-eyeballs @thereeallink @graciouslyc @acidaciruela @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast @firstworldproblemthings @nowitsmissing @poppyflower-22 @kuromismom7 @xjinnix @flw3rrr @plathsotherib @beaphobia @valeskafics @aoi-targaryen @elayasversion

[discretocincel]

Watch the world keep changing

More fluff for RadioApple Week 2024! Go read it on AO3!

Since I decided to make the stories in the series connected, for today's prompt Deal/Blood I decided to work on the beginning of their relationship! Have some 3+1 thingy where Lucifer is slowly catchinig feelings and Alastor is in deep denial still:

I

The first time Lucifer saw Alastor bleed was three days before the battle with Heaven.

It was late, Vaggie’s training already officially over, but there were still a couple of cannibals around practicing some moves, familiarizing themselves with the angelic weapons, their weight and length. Lucifer still found it strange, watching so many sinners being friendly with each other, even while sparring. He was used to their everlasting conflict and hostility, to their selfishness and pettiness, not… not this. Part of his punishment supposedly was that he’d never get to see the good of humanity, the benefits of the freedom he granted them, to grow outside of the predetermined lines set in stone for their souls. His daughter had given him the most amazing gift by showing him that sinners were capable of good, in the right context. It made him regret some of the choices he had made in the past, but it also made him hopeful for the future. Which was why he never missed an opportunity to see them train. He wanted to see more of it, of their positive emotions and interactions. And he also wanted to care. He wanted to remember the faces of the ones who would be risking their lives for his daughter’s dream.

So far, Lucifer hadn’t seen Alastor step into the training sessions. He witnessed them, most often from the shadows, and on the few occasions he had something to say, he did it quietly, only addressing Charlie. Lucifer assumed the sinner didn’t want to interact with the volunteers.

Was he wrong?

“You’re being far too predictable, my dear,” he said, sporting a tamer variation of his smile, as if to not give a wrong impression. He didn’t sound like the arrogant, mocking bastard that would criticize Lucifer’s eating habits. It was almost like he wanted to be helpful. Genuinely.

“How can I not be predictable and still react fast? I’m not thinking much before moving because you’re too fast! I’ll die before I’m able to surprise you!”

The only two people still on the training grounds, apart from Lucifer, who was watching from the roof, were Alastor and a younger sinner. Lucifer didn’t know his name, but he had seen him around the cannibal overlord more than once. He was short, always wore a different hat, and he seemed to favor the color green, but apart from that, he was hardly remarkable.

Until then, of course. It was the first time Lucifer saw the Radio Demon personally instruct anyone in a fight, and they had been preparing the cannibals for nearly a month. That made him a little bit special. Only a little.

The spar was fun to watch. Alastor didn’t use one weapon, but two—he brandished a dagger in two tentacles, while he kept his hands clasped behind his back, like an asshole. He had to admit that it looked cool, but only to himself. The sinner didn’t need the ego boost. He jumped around the younger cannibal like a choreographed dance routine, with ease, making it look easy, without breaking a sweat. He was reading his partner like a traffic sign, maybe even better, but then the impossible happened.

The young cannibal tripped. He managed to get his feet under himself, but he stabbed the Radio Demon’s bicep in the process.

Lucifer’s eyes widened, and he prepared to take flight, imagining he would need to stop the Radio Demon from eating the poor bastard. What a miserable time to get lucky, he thought. The guy clearly wasn’t the most experienced fighter, and if the polearm he was using wasn’t one of angelic steel, then his hit probably wouldn’t have even scratched the skin. But it did. It probably wasn’t a very deep cut, but the Radio Demon’s coat was soaked in blood, even if the color did a good job of covering it.

Before he unfolded his wings, however, he decided to wait around a little bit and observe, since the Radio Demon hadn’t yet grown in size and the air hadn’t thickened with any green mist.

Against all odds, the Radio Demon didn’t eat the guy. His smile seemed a little more genuine, and when he went closer to the cannibal, he did it with a spring on his step.

“That was better!” he said cheerfully, patting the sinner’s shoulder with his microphone. “Now let’s try again, to make sure you didn’t just get lucky.”

The younger sinner groaned, knowing just as well as Lucifer and Alastor that he wouldn’t be able to replicate it. But he still got in position, and while he seemed even more nervous than before, his stance was slightly firmer, wider. His hold on the polearm was better, too.

Lucifer manifested a candy bar from the kitchen and got more comfortable on the roof, deciding that he would stay and watch a little longer. The Radio Demon was fun to watch when his witty remarks weren’t directed at himself, after all. And the way he moved, even for a mock battle, was graceful and elegant, like ballroom dancing, almost, with his long limbs, thin waste, and remarkable flexibility.

And if he noticed how he would sometimes delay his responses a fraction of a second to give the sinner a chance to scratch him one or twice, boosting his confidence without risking him getting too cocky, then that would remain a secret until the next time the Radio Demon pissed him off.

Or maybe not. It was too valuable information to give it away pettily at the first opportunity. Lucifer was smarter than that. Besides, Charlie could hear and consider it proof that her hotelier had a heart, which was simply ridiculous.

Lucifer knew better than that. No, he would keep that little detail to himself in the foreseeable future, stored away in a corner best left untouched, just like the fleeting thought of how attractive the sinner looked when slightly roughed up.

II

The second time Lucifer saw Alastor bleeding was a couple of days after the extermination, when by all means, he shouldn’t have been bleeding anymore. But his wound, which he hadn’t been told about, charged with angelic power as it was, wouldn’t close without angelic intervention, no matter how tight his stitches were. Good thing the sinner lived under the same roof as one of the most powerful angels ever created, right? Because the Radio Demon wasn’t an idiot, eventually he would have pushed aside his pride in favor of self-preservation, and he would have approached Lucifer on his own to ask for his help.

Right?

“You should’ve told Charlie, at least,” Lucifer mumbled, while he worked on the necrotic wound in the privacy of the Radio Demon’s room. “She would’ve told me.”

“Precisely,” Alastor replied curtly. “Besides…” He took a deeper breath, hands shaking slightly, but he remained remarkably still considering the pain he must’ve been feeling.

Durable motherfucker, truly. Lucifer was impressed. But that was another secret he was taking to the grave.

“She already has enough on her plate. It wouldn’t do for her to have even more worries and bad memories.”

“I agree, which is why you should’ve sought help so you wouldn’t add your death to her bad memories.”

The sinner didn’t dignify that with an answer, choosing to subtly turn his head away instead. Even with his neck twisted at an awkward angle, he couldn’t add much distance between them, lying on his back as he was, with Lucifer sitting by his side, both hands extended over the sinner’s bare chest. He had already cleaned the wound more than once, but the bottom half, near his hip, kept bleeding while he worked on the section of his shoulder, focusing on the damage done to his heart.

Now he could no longer tell Charlie that Alastor didn’t have a heart. He had seen it. It was a frail little thing, fickle, overworked, and scarred. The kind one could easily feel protective over.

A part of Lucifer, the one that kept going over the faraway corner where he stored the details about the Radio Demon away, wondered if he wasn’t already feeling protective of it, seeing as he had ambushed the sinner after dinner to treat the wound he only knew was there because he could smell it.

“Just don’t die on her, Alastor. She cares for you.”

“I’m not planning on dying any time soon, Your Majesty. However, if you’re interested in a deal…”

“Not in this life or the next one,” Lucifer cut him off quickly, grateful for the reminder of the kind of person the sinner he was healing truly was. Overlords didn’t need protecting. The rest of Hell needed protecting from them.

Alastor sighed dramatically, the little shit, but then his expression morphed into one Lucifer hadn’t yet seen on him; his smile was still there, barely, but it was crooked, and his eyes were half-lidded.

“I may have… procrastinated on fixing this particular issue. Your assistance is… appreciated. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Right. His assistance was appreciated, because it had been needed, and the sinner knew it. He had simply hesitated to ask for it, for some reason. But he would have done it, eventually. He should have done it, anyway. And the reason he hadn’t was probably his pride, because he was a sinner, an arrogant, overconfident, sadistic bastard—

—and he had a fickle, scarred heart. Lucifer swallowed down the lump in his throat, then shook his head slowly.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he muttered.

“Nonsense. You had no obligation to help me, and yet… here you are.”

“Here I am,” Lucifer confirmed absentmindedly, trying to focus on what his hands were doing as he was finally passing on to the sternum, checking for any bruising on the bones. While he did that, one of his hands slid down to once again vanish away the blood that kept pouring out of the cut down on his bony hip.

He was so skinny, so delicate. Whose idea had it been to leave him on his own against Adam, of all things? It was a small miracle he didn’t die. And not only he had survived, but he had actually done some damage, earning them all time by keeping him away from the main battle and maintaining the property damage to a minimum while he could.

He had almost died for his daughter and her dream. He had a heart. One that was beating so damn hard, doing its very best, just like the sinner when he fought Adam.

He was a killer, a cannibal, an asshole. And he had a heart.

III

The third time Lucifer saw Alastor bleed was, in retrospect, not as big of a deal as he made it to be.

Lucifer wasn’t a great cook. He wasn’t incompetent; he kept himself and Lilith fed at the beginning of time just fine, but after imps were created, about ten thousand years ago, there really hadn’t been a need for Lucifer to cook ever again. But he wanted to do something nice for Charlie, and he had heard from Vaggie how Alastor had taught her a few things in the kitchen after he witnessed her setting toasts on fire, and how she had turned the cooking lessons into a bonding experience, the results of their hard work something she could proudly share with everyone she cared about.

Lucifer worked through his jealousy like he heard Charlie coach the hotel residents once, and he decided that there was no reason for him to not be a part of that. Surely, there were still things Charlie didn’t know how to make, right? And if there weren’t, then that was okay, because there sure were a lot that Lucifer didn’t know. She could teach him. She would! She instantly said yes the moment he brought it up to her, except…

Except she decided to include Alastor as well, because she argued that she wasn’t good enough in the kitchen yet, and apparently, the Radio Demon was a fantastic cook.

Lucifer complained mostly out of habit. Bickering with the sinner was fun, really, but the guy didn’t need to know that. His ego was big enough as it was. Not that he didn’t have a reason though; the man was charming, the perfect charismatic radio host who jumped up the ladder of Hell’s hierarchy faster than anyone before him, and he was powerful, for a sinner. Not only through his own strength and subsequently due to the souls he kept acquiring, but he was smart and chose enemies and allies well. Even after vanishing for years, when Hell surely should’ve forgotten him, he didn’t need to do much to get the spotlight back on him and reinstate his position as one of the most feared creatures in the Pride Ring. It was reasonable for a guy like that to have such a big ego.

And then, as Lucifer had the opportunity to have him teach him, he could only add that to his list of assets. His instructions were clear, he was patient and gentle but still encouraged them to be mindful of the time and move not like they didn’t know what they were doing, but like they were simply remembering something they hadn’t done in a long time. Which was actually true for Lucifer. Perhaps that was the problem. Feeling capable, he got a little too comfortable with the knife, and then…

“Alastor!” Charlie shrieked in horror.

“I’m fine, my dear, this is nothing. Don’t touch it with your hands, or you’ll get blood on them. We’re still cooking. Don’t get any blood on the vegetables!”

“You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine, Your Majesty, it’s really no big deal—”

“Stars, I hurt you! You’re bleeding! And it’s my fault!”

“Your Majesty, you can barely call this bleeding—”

“Let me fix it!”

“What? There’s nothing to fix, Your Majes—”

Blinded by panic, Lucifer reached out for Alastor’s injured hand —his hand, he had injured a pianist’s hand— and brought it to his lips, holding it by the wrist, so he could clean the blood and close the wound with his saliva, while keeping his own hands clean.

For a moment, no one in the kitchen moved. All three of them stood there, holding their breaths, with eyes far too wide and shoulders way too tense. Then Lucifer dropped the sinner’s hand and vanished with a ‘poof’ to reappear at the other side of the room, as far as possible.

“So! That’s fixed! Anyway!”

He went quiet, because he had no idea what to say, and apparently neither did the others. Charlie’s face was turning redder by the second, and Alastor had never looked more like a deer than in that moment, completely paralyzed. Still, after another minute or maybe twenty went by, he cleared his throat, fixed his smile which had nearly disappeared in his astonishment, and went back to the cucumber that Lucifer had been all too happily massacring.

“Well, I’ll be finishing this one, then!” he said, rinsing the knife before getting to it. “Charlie, dear, can you check on the gravy? Your Majesty, you may start on the rice.”

“Right. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Wonderful.”

Lucifer resumed the cooking like a man on a mission, laser-focused and repeating every instruction in his mind like a mantra until he was done with that particular step, doing his best to ignore the way his heart kept trying to escape his chest and the taste on his tongue that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he asked Charlie for a sample of the sauce she was merely monitoring.

He had to admit, in the end, that Alastor was indeed a fantastic cook. He also tasted fantastic himself.

+ I

The very first time Alastor saw Lucifer bleed was not an occasion he could ever share with someone else. Pity, he would’ve liked bragging about making the King of Hell bleed. But it would be impossible for a while, at least. Not only because the ‘wound’ was too insignificant to be called that, but because Alastor’s own madness could hardly be omitted from the narrative for it to make sense.

The little setback didn’t sour his mood as one would’ve expected, though; probably because he was still reeling with endorphins after the first make out session of his life. He’d always found the idea of a foreign tongue inside his mouth disgusting, and he hadn’t enjoyed the sensation at first, but when the tip scraped itself in one of Alastor’s fangs, releasing a delicious nectar that couldn’t even compare to the blood Rosie had bottled from the last extermination, the experience quickly became an unforgettable one, as was Lucifer’s promise that he would one day sit on his lap and let him drink straight from his neck, but there were a couple of wishes Alastor needed to grant the king for that to happen; some of those requests rivaling Angel Dust’s most depraved and rewarded works.

Alastor, while nervous in his inexperience and not yet convinced that he would find most if not any of those scenarios enjoyable, couldn’t wait. If anyone asked, he would say the golden, angelic blood of the fallen monarch was that addictive. And even to himself, he swore it had nothing to do with the way his own heart skipped a beat whenever The Devil smiled at him.

It was the blood. That was all he cared for. Really.

[cb-writes-stuff]

Elial Bio

Full name: Elial vau Keidzel

Species: Kotrim

Age: 32

Gender: Female

Cultural background: A bit of everywhere

Height: 6’2” (~188 cm)

General weight/build: Light, lithe

Description of appearance: Curly chestnut hair down to her chin, emerald green skin, golden yellow eyes; also, outwardly pointed ears

Occupation: Thief (of the Gilded Palm)

Typical clothing style: Shirt and britches (functional and easy to wear), dark or earthy; wears more traditionally feminine clothes when not wanting to draw attention

Associated color(s) (not necessarily worn): Green, gold

Voice: Low, deep, rich, casual, with a Delgane accent (trained, but you can’t tell the difference)

First impressions of…

Nauth: “Strange man, I must admit. Why would a dirt-poor shodathi be running for his life? And from who? I don’t really care, honestly. As long as it means he won’t report me or anything, he’s okay.”

Ven: “He’d be a thief if he weren’t so uppity. ‘Stainless’, I think they call themselves. It’s hardly living, if you ask me.”

Lynn: “You expect me to believe this is a man? …It actually is? Huh. Never would have guessed. Whatever. I’m sure he’s like every other Delgane though—self-absorbed, self-righteous, and acts richer than they actually are.”

Mela: “Ah, a businesswoman. I like her. Much better than the fences I usually deal with, but of course she keeps everything legal. Ugh.”

Elvi: “I’m amazed this girl’s never been a mark. She’s just… It would be so easy to…” (a coin purse appears in her hand) “Don’t worry, I’ll return it before she notices. In… a few hours, maybe?”

William: “Nothing worth taking, honestly. And sure, he’s good with a sword, but what good will that do in the streets? I’ll take a dagger or a knife any day.”

Gloria: “I get a bad feeling from her. She doesn’t like me. Did I rob her once…? No, no, I’d remember that. She doesn’t look easy to rob anyway.”

Sils: “Oh, right. I heard about this. Tomb raid gone wrong, they found a child, of all things. Dumped it in the nearest orphanage. Y’know what? I’m not even gonna ask.”

[sweetlittlegingy]

I just really love the idea of the dagger squad having one girl that is the group’s favorite thing in the world. Kinda like a pick me girl, but instead of her pushing her way in the group, they won’t leave her alone.

- Like say they’re out for the night, some guy is just not leaving her alone. The whole group is going to protect her.

- It’s her birthday and they decide to surprise her. Roosters film in the whole thing, hangman’s the one that brought her in, Phoenix has been on cake duty to make sure the boys get in it. coyote meets her at the front door because he’s just, THE BEST FRIEND. They sing happy birthday, and each of them has a different nickname for her. (I just feel like fanboy would call her mommas)

- Maybe she’s moved to get away from a really horrible hometown. And though she doesn’t actively post about the squad, because she’s better than that and it doesn’t feel the need to update everybody on what’s going on in her life. But I guarantee the squad will be posting pictures galore and tagging her in it so everyone that was an asshole in the past saw just how good she was doing

- But then I also think like if they’re out, and if someone’s being rude to the squad or getting really handsy with one of them. She is coming in and she is going to be the best acting of her life to get rid of said annoying person or she’s gonna kick someone’s ass.

-  This private joke, where they flirted with each other consistently. But the guys could never figure out if there was something between them.

- guaranteed every single one of them flirts with her. But it’s not in a romantic way, it’s more in a way that they like to see her blush and they tease her about it.

- No I do think that one of them would end up falling for her, but she would be too innocent understand that. And whenever they’re extra sweet with her, she just chalk it up to them be really close best friends. And the whole squad is watching this happen and most definitely placing bets.

- I feel like she probably has an article of clothing from each of them. I’m going with hoodies because I used to seal hoodies from my guy friends. But it’s in the most platonic way, and it gets to the point where they’re offering their hoodies. No questions asked.

- I also think, though that she kind of moms them, and makes sure that they’re eating well and taking care of themselves. She most likely has a day of the week that everyone comes over and has dinner. It’s really like a little family.

- She’s definitely keeping all of their favorite snacks stock for her house. This is what I mean by mom, she has everything a child’s friends could ever want or need when they come over, but it’s just grown adults not children.

- Another total mom thing, would be if she was at one of their houses, and she saw that they were missing some type of essential, she would go out and buy it for them just because she knows how busy their schedules are

- I also think that she’s the only one that can reel them in when they get too crazy. Say everybody’s drunk and and they do something stupid that could really hurt themselves. She is guilt tripping them and they are stumbling over there words begging for forgiveness and hatting if they disappointed her.

- I just really love this idea 😂

[ferahntics]

Your charcadet headcanons are so adorable!! What about their evolutions? Do you think their personalities change depending on what they evolve into? Also, if you had to choose one, which one is your favorite? Ceruledge has my heart, personally.

Late but I'm so glad you like them!!! I've been thinking about these for a while, so don't worry, this ask has been in the back of my mind for a while, I just wanted to actually come up with interesting ideas c:

Charcadet headcanons here!

Short answer: yes there are some slight differences! Like with age as you grow and mature, same with Pokemon as they evolve, some changes more noticeable than others. Although they retain most traits from their Charcadet days, there are some distinguishable things~

Long answer under the cut!

For both, its true that they are fiercely protective. Armarouge tend to be much more obvious in wanting to protect their trainers, often times leading to reckless charging into danger and will put themselves between their trainer and whatever threat looms. However if they seem to be losing, or they know they can't take it, they can just throw their trainer over shoulder and bolt for it. They have reached that much maturity and are able to tell when they can take something and when it's best to back off.

Ceruledge are more... passive, shall we say. They tend to stick back and have just a smidge more control, usually thinking before acting. Instead, they tend to sit back and just seethe, glaring daggers and making sure they are being watched on by one violent hawk. The slightest movement from whatever they're suspicious of is enough to get a hiss from their flames heating up, ready to strike at a heartbeat. It's. Quite concerning, admittedly.

Armarouge are more emotionally oriented, sometimes a little too much, and can lead to very not-good decisions. Although most mature after evolving, some of them let their emotions go wild even afterwards. They want the best for their trainers and will go the distance for it - and much like Charcadet, they sometimes overestimate their limits and can burn themselves out, flames dulling and betraying their health.

Ceruledge tend to have much better control over their emotions, and usually make the more level-headed decisions. They're equally ready to do anything for those they care about, but are much more careful about where their limits actually lie. They may be more on the reserved side, too. After evolving, they may distance themselves from affection a tad bit - not because they don't want it, but because they fear of letting their guards down and risking some form of ambush.

For Armarouge: after using Armor Cannon, they might struggle with a little bit of arm pain, shoulder and elbow joints, from the recoil of the blast. It’s best they take it easy the next few fights as to not risk any major injuries. Also, using it in a close proximity can be dangerous and unless they have the Flash Fire ability, will damage themselves!

For Ceruledge: using Bitter Blade increases the heat of their body to a pretty dangerous amount and will need a while to cool off. And as the ability states, it does force it to channel some nasty memories - so they can be more touchy afterwards after reliving those, so its best to either leave them alone for a bit, or if you’re more familiar with them, try to keep them grounded. This hugely depends on what kind of relationship the trainer and Ceruledge have.

In terms of affection, they both still very much crave it. Armarouge are more open and love to receive it as much as they love to give it - they can afford to do so. Ceruledge may start off as not wanting it, mostly because it takes them a while to learn they can actually control the flame blades and tune them out (like Chimchar with its fire) - once they figure that out, they allow simple headpats and quick hugs. Not quite as clingy as Armarouge, but they certainly enjoy it more than they show it.

Both still very much crave that sense of protection and safety their trainer can provide them as well. Like before evolution, it's an act of kindness that will never be forgotten by either of the two species.

TLDR: Armarouge is extrovert, Ceruledge is introvert. (I'm joking, but I mean xD)

EDIT: OUGH I didnt answer the question - I love and adore both, honestly, they’re on a very dangerously close tie x-x I love Ceruledge but Armarouge is also hnnnng I cant pick, so I use both on my team JKSDHG

Also added a few more ideas!!

[juliedrawz]

Cancíon de Vida

Summary: Héctor's afterlife had been traversed by tragedies until one fateful night on Dia de los Muertos in the year 2017 changed it all. Not only his road to recovery begins. While Miguel is trying his best to bring justice to his great-great-grandfather, unknown mysteries start to unwrap themselves. Things that will not only impact and completely change Héctor's life forever. What if some things aren't quite the way they seem? And how do you pick up your existence after so much hurt?

Main Characters: Héctor, Imelda, Ernesto, Ceci, (Miguel)

Rating: M

A/N: A very special thanks to my besties who have been the first to support me, are regulary beta-reading and keeping up with the insane rollercoaster of emotions, which is this journey of writing that book. I love you guys ❤ - Will I keep tweaking? Perhaps? I don’t know ... before I print the thing I surely will but that’s in the future. (I will only print it for myself and a few special persons I will choose later on!)

                 ~ Prologue ~

With a cry and a twirl of glowing marigold petals, Miguel was gone.

The Rivera family stood frozen in shock, watching the scene in front of them with great sorrow. Each of them held their very own emotion deep inside. It was painful, all of it. Both, the newly found knowledge and the situation they were in. The man they had been told to hate and forget, had all along been innocent and was now about to fade away. It felt like a cruel joke, a sick twist of fate. Each of them wished that there would be something that they could do but there was nothing. Their only hope now was Miguel. If he would succeed, Héctor would live. But most likely, that was too late.

“Héctor!” Imelda clutched her husband’s hand tighter, voice heavy with desperation and panic, “Please hold on! You have to hold on! Don’t leave me again! I cannot li-”

“Imelda,” with the last strength he could bring up, he lifted his hand to her left cheekbone, “it’s ok!”

“No!” she choked, lips trembling, “nothing’s ok! You are fading and it’s my fault!”

“No! Don’t blame yourself! I ... I don’t want you to!”

“But it’s true!” she wailed, “all my life I’ve thought ... I’ve believed this lie and I should have known better! I should have known that you would never abandon me!”

Héctor managed a small smile. His eyes were filled with so much love, it drove daggers into her spiritual heart. How could he just forgive her that easily after all she’d done?

“I‘m so, so sorry Imelda!” He said. Deep regret and sadness in each of his words. “I should have never left Santa Cecilia, I - Augh!” Another painful seizure of orange, glowing light, shook him.

“Héctor!” Imelda cried, bending down further, “No! No, no, no, please!” tears welled up in her eyes. “Please! Please ... you have to hold on a bit longer! Miguel will-”

He turned his head back to her, taking deep, heavy, rattling breaths. “It was my dream to make music and share it with the world once. But I never left because I wanted fame. I left because I wanted to provide for my family. You and Coco!”

“I know! I know.” Imelda moved his hand to her lips, letting the first tears fall. Normally, she wasn’t the kind of woman who would cry easily, and usually, her pride would keep her from succumbing to it. But ever since her husband hadn’t returned, she had cried more than she had ever thought she could. All in secret. Even in the land of the dead. Never had she let her family catch her but now was different. Now she didn’t care anymore who saw her. “I ... I was so heartbroken a-and angry and blind!” She sobbed, “Oh Héctor, I should have listened to you earlier! If only I-”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now!” Héctor tried to push himself to smile again but with each second, he felt weaker. He wanted to hide how bad he actually felt. Awfully tired and brittle. He knew he was seconds away from fading. He could feel it. Yes, he wished he could have seen his daughter one more time and spent more time with his beloved wife and family. Yes, he didn’t want to fade and yes, he was scared. But through it all, he also felt confident. He knew that everything would be fine, even with him gone. Who knew, eventually, whatever awaited him would one day reunite him and his wife, his soulmate, his one true love. “I love you, Imelda. More than anything! - Argh!” His body shook and glowed worse than all the times before and his face scrunched up in pain while the sun climbed higher and higher over the couple’s shoulders.

“No!” Imelda pushed her hands under her husband’s back, pulling him onto her lap. “I love you too! I’ve never and I will never stop loving you!”

The brightest smile Héctor had smiled in the past decades spread on his lips. “You ... you forgive me then?”

“I already have!” She leaned down to touch his forehead with hers. “Though there is nothing to forgive! You did everything right, mi amor!”

“When Coco arrives ... tell her ... tell her I’m sorry! Tell her ... how much I love her!” He received a nod.

“I will! I promise you, I will!”

“I’m glad. At least I get to see you one last ... time.” With a deep breath, Héctor’s eyes closed, his smile faded, his body faltered and the markings on his skull started glowing faintly.

“No!” Imelda cried, “No!”

The sun had risen over their heads. Her warm, golden light stretched out over the horizon and illuminated the whole backstage.

“Héctor?” Imelda whispered hoarsely, “mi vida?”

He didn’t respond anymore and with the silence, Imelda felt a cold come over her that she had never felt before. A pain spread through her whole being, worse than any wound. Worse than any pain she had ever felt. A crushing sensation that took her breath away. It burned and choked her. She couldn’t bear to watch her true love fade, so she pulled him closer to her chest, hugged him tightly, and then let out a bone-chilling, heart-wrenching wail. A scream full of sorrow and grief. A cry that mirrored all her frustration, her anger, her bitterness, her hurt, her desperation, and her regret. But mostly, her pain of losing him.

Oscar and Felipe turned their heads away. It was too painful to watch their sister bawl over her, soon-to-be-gone, husband. Rosita and Victoria comforted each other by hugging while Julio just placed his hand on his daughter’s lower arm. There was nothing they could do or say.

By now the sun had risen entirely. Time passed and each second felt like an awful eternity. Imelda didn’t dare to move or look. Too strong were her grief and pain. There were no words that could describe how much she hated herself at that moment. How much she wanted to turn back time and reverse her mistakes. And if it only was for the time Héctor had first found her and aimed to explain himself.

He had been overjoyed to see her. He had run up to her, picked her up, and spun her around. And what had she done? Before he could even try to explain himself, she had smashed her boot into his face so hard, it had sent his head flying straight across the street. Then she had yelled at him and had called him all kinds of ugly names. Her heart had broken into yet another thousand pieces, even though she had believed it couldn’t break any further. Each time and each year she had chased him away. Oftentimes not only with her boot but with Pepita, and he was presistant. Deep down, she was well aware that she didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help herself. No matter how hard she had tried to suppress the feeling that something wasn’t right, she couldn’t. She had tried to ignore it, tried to forget it, forget him. She had tried to hate him with all her might but she never could. He was her amor verdadero, her true love. She could never hate nor forget him. But forgetting was just what was killing him a second time.

Imelda had also thought that she had time. That had been her biggest mistake up to this day. She had thought that she had enough time to eventually, one day, find the courage to jump over her pride and hear him out. That’s when Miguel had come. It had been a wink of fate. He had solved the problem and unveiled the whole truth and all that in one night. And now that she’d finally realized the truth, now that she had the chance to get her husband back, it was too late.

“Urgh ...”

Her thoughts got interrupted by a weak groan that came from below. Immediately Imelda’s eyes shot down, finding her husband still in her arms, leaning against her chest. He hadn’t faded? He was still here? Coco remembered? “Héctor?” She breathed, a glimmer of relief tingling in her chest as she blinked tears. “Héctor?”

The heads of her family turned back around, gaping in astonishment. Another groan followed and his eyes slowly opened.

“Héctor!” Imelda repeated, still in shock.

His eyes lifted, an expression of pure confusion followed, “Imelda? Am I dead? Is this heaven?”

“You are dead but ...” She blinked, confused herself, “not faded. Coco she ...”

“Remembered me!” Héctor beamed. “Our Miguelito made it!”

“He did!” She started beaming as well, laughing in relief.

Héctor’s eyes opened further. As he realized his position, they trailed down to his wife’s chest on which she had him pressed and he grinned. As soon as she noticed, she pushed him away with an offended gasp. That Fool. The nerve he had. There he had been at the edge of Nirvana and the first thing he did after surviving that, was boldly and shamelessly flirting with her. He didn't need words. And she hated herself for liking it.

“Ay!” he dropped down full force, bones clattering on the ground. 

“Dios, I’m sorry! Are you hurt?” Her gasp was drowned out by Héctor’s laughter, which got her angry again and at the same time filled her with indescribable happiness. “Stop laughing, tonto! You almost faded!” 

“I know!” He winced as she pushed his shoulder, causing her to flinch away and straight up apologize a second time. He chuckled once more before growing serious again. “I’m still here.”

“Sí.” she crossed her arms.

“Now what?” Lifting himself into a sitting position, he felt his chest and then looked at her expectantly.

Now what? His question caught her off guard, just as the loud cheering of her family behind them. Suddenly an overjoyed Dante came rushing toward them. Heckling, he leaped between the couple, licking Héctor’s skull and hands wildly.

“Ah! Dante, no! Stop it!” He laughed, trying to twist himself free. But Dante didn’t think of stopping. Instead, he turned around and ran his tongue over Imelda’s face next. She tried to push him off but to no avail.

“Augh! No, not me!” She groaned.

Dante wagged his tail back and front seemingly in lightspeed, causing funny sounds on the couple’s bones. He kept on licking Imelda until she was finally able to push him off. “Enough!” She told him strictly. Intimidated, he retreated to the side, causing her to topple forward, crashing onto her husband’s chest.

His laughing got exchanged with his goofy grin. “Still falling for me, eh?”

Imelda’s mouth opened, closed, opened, and closed again. She was certain that if she still had skin, she would have blushed furiously. That foolish grin that had made her fall in love with him in the first place all those years ago, made the tingling feeling in the area where her stomach had been, reappear. Then, as soon as the grin had come, it vanished again. Now his expression was entirely different. His pupils enlarged as he gave her a look of absolute adoration. It had been decades since she had looked that deep into his eyes. Quickly she shook herself out of her trance and scrambled away from him.

Sighing, she got up, holding out a hand for Héctor to take. He hesitated for a moment, searched in her eyes if it was really ok, and then took her hand, letting himself get pulled up. Suddenly shy and bashful again both looked away. Héctor‘s brow-bones furrowed and his right hand grabbed his left arm like he always used to do when he became flustered. Imelda on the other hand pressed her lips together and wrung her hands. Words itching to be spoken but left in silence.

Felipe and Óscar both wanted nothing more than to run to them and hug them but they kept themselves from doing so. It was still weird after all those years. They had never truly believed that Héctor had left their sister on purpose but running up to him now seemed inappropriate. Rosita and Victoria just as much as Julio kept away as well. None of them dared to come too close to the couple. Or Héctor for that matter.

Héctor thought. He wondered how things were now between him and his wife. They had somewhat reconciled but that was because both had thought that he was about to vanish to dust. Now he was alive. Well, as alive as one could call it.

“Erm ...” he dared a glance to the side, finding his wife looking just as emotionally conflicted as he himself. “Imelda?” His voice was reduced to an unsure whisper.

Just as she was about to say something, Pepita came flying back above their heads. Circling for a moment, she landed right next to her master. Her big head instantly turned to Héctor, her pupils became slits and she lowered herself down, stalking towards him just like she had moments ago with Ernesto.

Gritting his teeth, Héctor slowly walked backward, lifting his hands in defense. “Uh, Pepita? You’re not angry with me anymore, are you? Nice kitty! ... Good kitty? Please don’t eat me!” He lifted his arms to shield himself.

“Pepita! Déjalo ser!” Imelda demanded but this time her alebrije didn’t listen. She kept walking until she stood right in front of Héctor, who grimaced and leaned away.

Fearful he closed his eyes and waited for the biggest, most rough, and wet tongue to swoop over his whole head. Wait ... tongue? Pepita licked Héctor with so much force, it lifted him a few inches from the ground, a deep, loud purr erupting in her chest as she looked at her owner’s mate with great satisfaction. Her lick had ruffled his, already messy hair and caused it to now stand in each possible direction. 

Imelda couldn’t help but snort a laugh at her husband’s expression. A mixture of dumbstruck surprise and disgust. “Ay, mi amado tonto,” She said, still with amusement in her voice. “Vámonos a casa!”

[bibaybe]

Hi, I’ve been sent by the oc creator bingo!

I was perusing your oc masterlist and fell in love with Bay Ackerman, so tell me everything and anything about them!

-@heresthefanfiction

help its been literal months and i'm only just now answering this... embarrassed

masquerades as the child of triton until the mark of athena, when an ocean monster outs them as being poseidon's child. idk what kind of monster tho just yet

best friend is a shark they named seagull, nicknamed gully, after baby seagull got lost in the triton's palace and accidentally wandered into their wing, which was off limits except for specific people/animals

dead name is sally and hates it for a long time bc it's yet another reminder of what they are to poseidon

has a lot of bubbling resentment towards percy bc they know that they were even more of a mistake to poseidon - triton never hid anything from them after bay found out about their true parentage, mostly bc he didn't care enough to spare their feelings, so bay knows the whole story - even about poseidon offering to build a castle for sally and percy. they feel like their the jacked up replacement for the true family poseidon wanted, especially when poseidon never tries to get close to them

spends most nights sleeping under the stars, especially when they're on the argo 2. they spent almost all of their life trapped in one wing of a castle - they crave being outside and in wider spaces. they're rarely ever in their cabin

leo and bay are the epitome of 'he fell first, they fell harder'. leo is into bay from the moment they meet, but bay is so busy learning about the surface world and learning how socializing with people other than their family works, they don't even really notice themselves falling for leo until probably the house of hades? but then it hits

struggles with fighting above water a lot for most of the first book - they've been training under the ocean and knows how to use a dagger better than most, but fighting under water is different than fighting above the surface and they have to learn how to readjust to the differences

has a rough relationship with triton - poseidon forced triton to send his daughter, evangeline, away so bay would be his child to the outside world, in case rumors ever started. triton sent her to chb to make sure she would be safe, but held it against bay since he couldn't take it out on his father

aaaah i can't think of anything else atm but feel free to send specific questions!! much better with specific questions lmao

[astraymetronome]

Sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head

Father Figure’s Make Great Napping Places - Chapter One

Notes

I just thought this was funny and cute so I decided to make it a tiny trope, lol.

Chapter Title - Migraine by 21 Pilots

Shouta was pretty sure Midoriya was having problems with sleep, but he’s genuinely surprised he’s the only student who’s shown signs of it so far. After everything these kids have gone through, you’d think they’d all have problems. If he was honest they all probably did, though they most likely had different ways of dealing with it. He was more concerned about his problem child since he was well aware of Izuku’s mental state and the fact that the boy had a lot of stuff he needed to take care of.

The teen had managed to fall asleep during the study period and before he could tell Iida to leave him alone, the uptight boy managed to wake him up. He sighed when the drowsy viridescent eyes looked around the room before settling on the paper he’d already finished. Midoriya looked disappointed at being woken up, but he ultimately smiled, the quiet thank you he gave managing to graze his ears.

The class still had about 30 minutes left before he had to head to help the Gen-ed students self-defense. With all of the attacks the school has experienced it was safety protection for them, they needed to make sure none of their students were hurt and it was better if they at least knew how to defend themselves without quirks. He sighed and relaxed into his sleeping bag again when everyone seemed to set back to work, a couple of his students just double-checking their answers.

He noticed how once the bell had finally rung for class to be over before he left, Urakara and Iida had swiftly made their way to the shorter student’s desk and, judging on his face, had mentioned falling asleep. Aizawa, of course, had to leave but he felt rather bad that they made it seem like something he should be embarrassed about. He’d just bring it up to Midoriya when they returned to the dorms.

Turns out… Bringing it up at the dorms wasn’t an option for Shouta since, not surprisingly, Toshinori’s class period had ended up with three students in Recovery Girl’s office; he didn't know who had been hurt and of course one of the three had to be his Problem Child. When he came in to check on the three, he was a little surprised to find Yaoyorozu and Kirishima laying on two of the cots. Out of the whole class, those two were the least likely to get hurt in any way considering Momo was super aware of her surroundings and Kirishima was a walking tank when he chose to be.

Now…

The small third form was, less surprisingly, Midoirya. He was often in Chiyo’s office for any reason whether it be a broken bone, far less often nowadays, muscle tension, or overwearing his binder. The supposed head injury he had was a little strange since the boy was often on top of that kinda stuff. Aizawa noticed the baggy hoodie he had on instead of the gym uniform so he had reason to believe the concussion hadn’t knocked him unconscious.

He’d barely taken a few steps into the room before he was grabbed by his wrist and dragged back out to see a very guilty-looking Yagi and a very upset Shuzenji. “Thank Kami! Shouta,” She started before pointing at the tall blonde man. “Toshinori thought it would be smart to have the kids see how long they could hang upside down, over a makeshift cliff!” It didn’t take much else for his glare to focus solely on the other guy.

“What were you thinking?!” He growled as his eyes threatened to flash red. He figured after all of this the formal number one hero would have understood he needed to be more careful. He had a good reason to be upset about it, three of his students were bedridden in the nurse’s office.

He stared daggers into the iniquitous blue eyes in front of him, “Aizawa, in my defense…” He started, hesitant but unwavering, “I didn’t expect young Midoriya to suddenly pass out. If they got dizzy I told them to tell me but it happened so quickly.” Shouta wasn’t buying this.

“How did Momo and Kirishima happen to join him in the infirmary?” He snapped back as his glare sharpened. Midoriya was level-headed and, even if he’s stubborn, the boy wouldn’t risk himself for something like that. He would have been one of the students who would drop to help someone who was falling wrong.

“They tried to grab him and lost their footing… Midoriya was swung into the wall which is why he has a concussion, young Yaoyorzu had multiple muscles torn in her arm, and Kirishima dislocated his shoulder to keep them both from falling..” Listening to him try to explain his way out of this was pretty annoying in Shouta’s opinion. Yagi just needs to stop explaining himself.

“Just- Clear it with me next time, I have a feeling that Midoriya is passing out because he seems to be struggling with sleep.” He said as he looked back into the room to keep an eye on the three.

“That would make sense; he was lacking quite a bit of stamina so he’ll have a headache for the next day or so. I want him on bedrest and take some ibuprofen for the pain.” She told Aizawa before continuing, “Kirishima will just be sore for the rest of the night and Yaoyorzu will have some stiffness for a few days, but I want her to stretch and drink plenty of water.”

He nodded before he turned back to see the latter two of the three stirring into an upright position. He kept the fond smile creeping up his lips to himself as they looked around with eyes thick of sleep. It didn’t take very long for the two to start and get up without much thought, Chiyo was quick to check them over again and shove energy gummies down their throats before sending them back to the dorms with their instructions.

Now Shouta was stuck waiting for the problem child to wake up so they could be sure he got back to the dorms safely. It was currently 18:34, 6:34, and it’s been almost 3 hours since Izuku was healed. According to Chiyo, he was awake shortly after getting into the office, she was quick to help him change from his binder and such before healing him so he could sleep. She was just glad that he hadn’t hit the ground since that would have been a horrible injury and since he was headfirst; it could have been fatal.

Watching the small teen move in his sleep was at least a good sign he’d actually wake up soon since his movement was a sign he wasn’t practically dead to the words. Aizawa had a feeling that Midoriya was gonna be pretty drowsy, he knew that he’d listen to Recovery Girl since she was someone he was used to seeing when he was this tired. He just didn’t know what to do really.

It took another 30 minutes for the kid to be awake enough that when Chiyo’s door closed he shot up. Even though his Problem Child was half asleep the boy never got to feel calm, it made him feel pretty bad for his kid- Student. For his student. His edged atramentous eye’s met a softer pastoral, dull with sleep, as Izuku stretched before holding his head, clearly noticing his headache.

Shouta knew where stuff was so in Shuzenji’s stead, she had stepped out to help with healing an old friend of hers, he grabbed a few energy gummies along with a cup of water and two of the ibuprofen before returning to Izuku. He saw a slight confusion that decorated the boy’s face before he grabbed the cup and took the meds, guzzling the water down as well before he started to explain what Chiyo had said.

The teen had responded with a nod before he stood, wobbling as he did so. Watching him move a little bit like a headless chicken. The black-haired man sighed before he got up and started to walk with him, keeping a close eye on his student. The green-haired boy hadn’t been doing much other than clutching his blazer and dress shirt to his chest, hiding the binder cloth under the fabric, as he headed outside.

Midoriya had seemed a lot calmer once they got outside, less drowsy and more contemptuous. He wasn’t as stumbly with his steps or as uncoordinated other than just being in pain. Aizawa wasn’t gonna make his student walk but the boy seemed to be fully capable of the action.

The two got to the dorms within ten minutes, it was after 19:14, 7:14, when he checked his watch before bringing his student inside. He knew that the kid needed to eat but a headache could get worse and give him nausea. He was pretty relieved to find none of his students seemed to be downstairs as he dragged the teen into the kitchen before Izuku said something. “Aizawa-Sensei, I'd much rather just go to bed.” He said as he rubbed his eyes.

Shouta felt bad but he wouldn’t let it show, he wasn’t the boy’s father and he had no reason to fill that role. As a teacher though, who was currently his legal guardian, he wouldn't let his student just go to bed with just meds and the gummies in his system. “Here,” He started as he pulled a cabinet open, “just nibble on these.” He pulled out a little packet of crackers before shoving them into his student's hands.

He watched as his student blinked in confusion while closing the cabinet’s door before ruffling the teen’s curls. “Thank you,” was all he muttered before he responded. “Don’t mention it, kid. Go upstairs.” He was unable to keep the tenderness in his voice and face hid before he got a nod in response.

He observed as the boy disappeared into the hallway and, most likely, took the stairs to get to his floor. Aizawa waited until the sound was pretty much gone before sighing and running a hand through his hair. He started to pull it up into a bun as he moved to head to the dorm he had. Yes, he normally stayed in the teacher’s dorms but each classes’ dorms had a room on the first floor for when the teachers needed to stay to ensure they were close when they had worries about students or if they needed to be supervised.

He’d unlocked the door using his key card before moving and grabbing the change of clothes he had. Considering he had students who could have been pretty badly hurt, he wouldn’t be surprised if students came downstairs or something so he’ll grade in the common room tonight. A few students came down within the 3 hours that followed. Shouta didn’t mind, multiple hadn’t gone to bed yet and we're about to but Yaoyorzu came down to get tea to calm down. According to her she’d just dozed off and had a dream where she hadn’t caught Midoriya but Kiri had caught her. He sighed and sat with her as she calmed down before telling her to head to bed and that he wouldn’t judge her if she needed to go stay with Jiro.

It was just after midnight when a familiar head of hair left the hallway. He’d been double-checking his plans for the week, making sure they were understandable just in case a possible sub was needed since they planned on helping Eri with her quirk more. Aizawa sat up more as the boy entered the kitchen before walking out after a couple of minutes with a cup of tea, carefully sliding a mug of coffee over to him. He blinked but took it with a hum of thanks, he tended to like the quiet with headaches so he was gonna assume the teen felt the same.

He was watching the shadow-lit teen as he leaned against the couch and gently drank the liquid. He thought for a moment before standing, “Stay here, Problem Child.” he said as he walked to his room not turning to acknowledge the nod he gave. He opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out some Ibuprofen before returning with two of the pills. He slipped it into the boy’s hand before sitting down and taking another sip of his coffee.

“Take these, for your headache, Chiyo wants you to take them anyways.” He said. Midoriya blinked a few times before just taking the meds with his tea. He smiled softly as the boy looked around a little blankly before he reached over and carefully ruffled the teen’s hair. He wasn’t the most affectionate of people but he didn’t mind stuff like this, though, the boy pushing into his hand when Shouta tried to pull it away; he couldn’t help but smile.

He kept his hand in the curls, running his fingers through the knots as he sipped at his coffee with his free hand. The teen had put his tea down a little while ago and the black-haired man was about to take him back upstairs before he noticed the soft sound of breathing. He blinked when he moved his arm only to have his student fall against him. He sighed at the sight of closed eyes and clearly drowsy noises. He could tell he wasn’t asleep yet but if he was this calm, he may not fall asleep in his room.

Shouta didn’t know how to feel about this but within a few minutes, he went ahead and adjusted them both. He had put his coffee down, pulling a blanket onto his student as the boy sleepily settled his head on his thigh. Izuku seemed to fall asleep in moments, chest rising and falling in rhythm as he slept. He gave a sigh as he kept a hand in the boy’s curls, sipping his coffee as he read through some reports he had overdue for an analysis.

He was just letting the boy sleep as time passed, around 2 am, since he hadn’t been stirring much or anything, he had been thinking about getting more coffee. The boy was definitely deep enough into sleep that he should be able to move him to just lay on the couch instead. Midoriya was pretty quiet when he was asleep, clearly favoring his stomach since the moment he was up the boy was on his front, pillowing his head with an arm. He didn’t really like the fact the coffee was cold, but he didn’t wanna risk waking his student. He’d be fine without it being hot, still got the job done either way.

He’d barely taken a sip out of it before a noise pulled his attention. Aizawa had walked over to see over the couch, his student curling in on himself. He sighed as he put his coffee on the coffee table before sitting down next to his student and carefully running his fingers through the curls again. He knew better than to try anything unless his student obviously needed to be comforted or woken up.

His student wasn’t calming down as Shouta sighed and just pulled the boy into his lap. He knew full well that if Hizashi saw him like this he’d never live it down but he’d much rather help his student. Izuku had shifted around a little, hands holding onto the back of his tightly as he moved to make it easier. He was just gonna let him get comfortable however he could to fall back asleep. He sighed once the movement slowed and his student seemed to be fine, curled up against his chest.

He was a little confused about how his student could curl up that much but he guessed it had to do with how flexible the teen was. He gently messed with the hair, glad his student was calming down. The tears on his face had slowed and his eyes were just kinda puffy, but he was still with sleep again about 45 minutes after the nightmare became obvious. Shouta felt semi-responsible for Midoriya’s nightmare but he also knew the boy wouldn’t remember or blame him for it.

Aizawa sighed as he gently pets the back of his head before leaning back, he was stuck like this now until the boy woke up. This wasn’t very good on his back but... His student was sleeping and he didn’t mind being used as a napping place for a few hours.

[persephoneggsy]

Marian: Isabela 3, Merrill 2, Carver 5 (wow look at me showing restraint not asking a Sebastian question :p )

(That's because you already know all the answers LOL)

Isabela 3: How did your Hawke feel about Isabela’s indifference to the mage-templar war? Were they offended? Or indifferent themselves?

Marian was equally apathetic about the conflict... Though perhaps more aggressively than Isabela. Whereas Isabela just doesn't seem to have a dog in the fight (though it seems she's more in favor of the mages having freedom), Marian does, and she chooses to not think about it because it's not directly affecting her (at least, not yet).

Which I think lends itself well to a parallel between her and Isabela re: sticking to their comfort zones instead of trying to be better people. The difference is once Marian gets better influences in her life (Sebastian, mainly, but her friendship with Fenris also slowly enables her to be better) she's actively making those choices to start caring.

Unfortunately, she wasn't close enough to Isabela to be that influence for her, so she just disappeared after the Arishok fight. And part of her will always wonder if she could've brought out a side of Isabela that cared.

Merrill 2: Was your Hawke intrigued by Merrill’s Eluvian? Were they concerned?

Honestly, she thought that thing looked super suspicious. For all that she was raised an apostate, without the chantry's rhetoric regarding magic in her head, she was still extremely wary of this new, mysterious, and almost definitely cursed magical artifact.

Mostly she was frustrated - Merrill is obviously smart, she knows to take precautions... but she cares so much about restoring elvhen history that she's willing to throw away her relationships with actual elves in order to do it.

And Marian, who has lost family not through choice but circumstance, wants to scream at Merrill that she's throwing away everything for a dumb mirror.

(Full disclosure: I get Merrill's reasoning. I know why it's important to her, and honestly I think her clan is a bunch of assholes. But Marian just sees a blood mage who thinks she knows better than everyone else she grew up with and it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.)

Carver 5: How did Leandra and/or Bethany’s death affect your Hawke’s relationship with Carver?

After Bethany died, they both closed off. Neither of them are good at emotions, so they either just didn't talk about it or did and screamed at each other, hurling blame like daggers before storming off in opposite directions.

After that first year in Kirkwall, they've both had time to grieve, but they've never really talked about it. Their grief at losing Bethany, whom they both privately agree was the best of them, having their mother constantly remind them of her death and making them feel guilty about it, plus all the other struggles they've faced since arriving in this shit city... it's all simmering there, under the surface, until the Deep Roads.

Then Marian is faced with the prospect of losing Carver, too. And she can't do that, she can't lose her baby brother. As they try to find the Wardens to cure him, she finally lets the dam break and tells him she's sorry for everything, Bethany was her fault. I think this is enough to encourage Carver to apologize too, and tell her that it isn't anyone fault what happened to Bethany. By the time they finally find the Wardens, both Hawkes have cried more in hours than they have in years, and Carver's future in uncertain, but at least they had some closure.

When Leandra dies, both have matured a lot more. Carver's come into his own as a Warden, Marian's allowed herself to be vulnerable. Carver never, ever blames Marian for what happened. If anything, he's pissed at everyone else - the city guard, fucking Aveline, blood mages, whatever - but never Marian. He tries to reach out to her more after Leandra's death, and she clings to that; after all, they're basically the only family they have left.

(Carver insists Gamlen doesn't count. Marian says fuck you he absolutely does. Gamlen is stuck between two children who are just as prickly as he is.)

[dracharenae]

✹ —  ιяивяи || єυяσи gяєуנσу ::

Attention was undivided, acting as the rays of a sun unperturbed by the endless seas of sand. A kind of sea he had no taste for, yet it was the iron born’s willing ignorance and a lover’s tie with that of the ocean which caused a house of nobility to take on the form of peasantry. Between the port and Sunspear, Euron and his men had spat at the sand in contempt for such a horrid landscape. All the glories of Sunspear could not dominate the rather meager, even dreary, decrepit steadfast of Pyke. Unlike his ancestors, his own kin, Euron saw beyond the beauty of seas and the harsh realities of salt and rock —  and the breaking of the mundane and comfortable brought him within reach to a serpent who breathed fire. 

A fool would believe his attention was split, yet ears and mind were focused on her @dracharenae​ words, the movement of her lips, and raising and falling of chest as he reached into the pocket of his heavy ebony jacket. He sweltered under the heat, but it was little different than the heat he and his men experiences during long voyages. While the men and women of the Iron Islands were stripped of colour, Euron’s flesh was a reflection of his affair with his sea. 

A hand rolled cigar was withdraw from pocket, and he sucked on the end, enjoying the flavour or various herbs and leaves, before he crossed the paved stones to light the opposite end on a lit torch. Euron was casual as he moved. Every single movement boasted of his confidence. Face cut through clouds of smoke as he returned to his former position, and the glittering blue eye returned to the woman’s face. As he walked, as he hooked a finger of his free hand into his weapon’s belt, Euron’s attire jingled in another call of attention. 

The leathers and cloth he bore were simple, made for weathering and fighting rather than attracting the eye of some court, however his weapon’s belt was finely studded and decorated in silver. Ivory elephant tusk served as the sheath for an absent sword. Bone of a elephant seal made for the handle of an exquisite dagger. Bones of a tiger and dragon scales hung about his neck. Appearance was made for the eye, and his voice, too, rolled with the leisure of waves as he pulled the cigar from between lips..

          ❛  No offense is meant, but you are broken, and you did bend a knee to the Targaryens and to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. ❜  Euron did not speak gingerly; it was a fact. it was true that Dorne was the last of the Seven to actually bend the knee, though it had been bent after much toil despite the bravado of house sigil and motto. He leisurely sucked on the cigar once again, released a hardy cloud of darkness, then continued.

         ❛  But what is broken can always be mended… The death of the dragon prince, his wife, their children broke you, but it is as I said. ❜  He cared not for the drama, melancholy, and politics the rest of the Kingdoms wrapped themselves in following the sack of King’s Landing, though the benefits were certainly worth reaping. The iron born allowed the leaves to burn and the ashes to gather on the stone floor as his hand rolled cigar went ignored. Blue tinged lips preferred the passing of words as they twisted in a smirk.

         ❛  In exchange? No. Alliances and the possessions and treasures it comes with are to be SHARED among the ashes of fallen enemies. A hand in marriage is desirable, after all she is said to be the most beautiful in all of Essos and Westeros, but I am not a man of a singular path. My DESIRES are alive, hungry, and always right, and it can sense the desires of others, too. Those Lannisters, Starks, Tyrells all would be a lot better with heads removed from shoulders. I intend to see that through, and why, why do it all alone, hmm? ❜  Cigar returned to sit between blue lips.

✹   —   THERE ARE NO WORDS TO DESCRIBE THE tensions residing within the small space of the chamber, consumed within sunspear occupied by a handful of sand snakes, and no prince of dorne. why is it euron greyjoy would find himself here, when it is known that the prince of dorne and his brother have taken to the water gardens for a spell ? ? ? it is no error, surely, but a calculated decision - and why else would he speak solely to her ? ? ? perhaps it is because she is the eldest sand snake to be found here, by proxy rendering her the most apt to speak to . . . but rhaenys suspects something else. a fearful thing, one she cannot possibly consider. she remains straight-backed before the one-eyed kraken, her expression utterly calm. there is no dread to be found in her features, nor in her purple eyes. valyrian eyes, to be sure - but oberyn has always claimed they were the eyes of starfall, or more blue in the right light . . . and who would rebuke a prince's claims in regards to his bastard, surely no one ? ? ?

rhaenys is aware of her advantages, in spite of her troubles. she is aware of the gods positioned throughout the open pillars, to the blade hidden within her tunic - curved and bronze-hilted, a jagged thing that could plunge into euron greyjoy's singular eye if she meant it. if harm is to befall her, she is not without resources. a simple scream, a simple reach for her blade, would be enough. this thought soothes, though only slightly. she still finds herself fiercely on edge. she awaits his every reaction, studying his every move. as he reaches into his jacket, she tenses. her fingers remain still at her side, but she is a viper, still. in a single, swift motion the blade could be in her hand. oberyn taught her well, after all. yet it is a cigar he pulls forth, and she discreetly breathes out.

rhaenys watches as the kraken moves, a certain elegance and confidence to every stride. a casual air as he reaches his hand to his weapon's belt; holding it, yet not reaching. she is all too aware of this too. her violet eyes flicker then to his face, damning him in every conceivable way. she tires of these games. why is euron greyjoy here ? ? ? what could he possibly want with dorne ? ? ? and why speak with her, when her uncles - the princes of dorne - are elsewhere ? ? ?

" i caution you to mind yourself, lord greyjoy. you stand in the halls of sunspear, who remained unbowed, unbent, unbroken by the dragons during aegon's conquest. we kept our princedom. we joined the kingdoms only by alliance. and do not forget, we struck down one of aegon's wives. her bones are buried within our deserts, her dragon, too, " rhaenys says. she is acutely aware of the irony of her words . . . how it was aegon's wife, the first rhaenys, who died within dorne's sands. and her name . . . that of aegon's wife. she, rhaenys targaryen . . . now resides within them. but she is not rhaenys here. she is adara sand, oberyn martell's bastard daughter - her mother a handmaiden from starfall. she is no one. she is a viper, a viper in the stars. no dragon, no fire breathing snake.

euron greyjoy must not see otherwise.

yet he speaks of prince rhaegar and his children. once more, her heart beats a little faster . . . these words must have meaning, but how could he know ? ? ? there is no way . . . rhaenys targaryen is dead. the realm saw her body beside elia and aegon, set before the iron throne. surely no kraken could have such knowledge. " the death of elia martell and her children was brought forth by the hands of lions. we are not broken by these deaths . . . mourning, of course. but we are strengthened by our resolve to avenge those we loved. my family, too - my father's sister, " rhaenys goes on. i am adara sand, oberyn's bastard. no more, no less. " do not presume to speak of our dead, and i shall not speak of yours. rodrik greyjoy, maron greyjoy, balon greyjoy. my condolences to your brother, of course . . . a most tragic death. "

most tragic, most coincidental.

at the mention of alliances, rhaenys' eyes do so sharpen, as he speaks undoubtedly of arianne martell. no. he shall not have her, he shall not lay a hand upon the dornish princess. those violet eyes narrow like valyrian steel daggers, piercing into the kraken lord. " prince doran would never wed princess arianne to you, so i suggest you seek a bride elsewhere. dorne has no need your alliance, nor of your interests . . . " rhaenys says, shortly. but she knows this conversation is not to its end. her eyes flicker to the guards positioned beyond the pillars, then back to euron as he draws from his cigar most casually. " how presumptuous you are to assume otherwise. " rhaenys straightens, deciding to be forward. " why are you here, lord greyjoy ? ? ? why not raise these interests of yours to the prince himself ? ? ? he is in the water gardens as we speak, or do you mean to sit and wait for him here ? ? ? i can assure you . . . you and your men are not welcomed a day longer. "

@irnbrn

[boozeforblues]

I Would Forget It Fain, But Oh, It Presses To My Memory, Like Damned Guilty Deeds To Sinners' Minds

Your words plunge themselves into my heart like pointed daggers Ever so innocuous, quite the coy little shagger And I can't figure out if you were trying to hurt me or simply didn't care Putting on a brave face while trying to tame the scare That you put in me on a Sunday, each syllable flowed like the bubbly I ordered a shot to take the edge off, I did so doubly The first one didn't take, call me a repeat offender Shattering every illusion I had of being a contender Or call you callous for the lack of regard "I'm sitting right here" and thinking we had sparred But a roll of the eyes and a hand wave so dismissive Convincing my overactive heart to be either still or submissive The drink helping me feign nonchalance Volleying words in my direction that land as unyielding taunts About how I'll never be chosen for anything, least of all you And I've got half a mind to give you a quarter of that, but instead I'll stew And let this tear me apart at the seams Wishing I was asleep because surely this is just a bad dream You asked what was wrong, so I changed the subject instead of lying This is really my own goddamn fault for even trying I was hoping you wouldn't notice and I hated being right So I shoved it all down trying like hell to enjoy the rest of the night Knowing full well I'd pay for it in the morning My brain and my gut both rebel against me but I ignored the warning Drank myself stupid, pointlessly trying to unring a bell I'm vexed and frantically trying to find a way to break this spell Because there's no way I walked into this voluntarily Thinking of all the dead and hoping to stand in solidarity Anything to take me from where I landed Remove me from everything and leave me stranded It's what I deserve but no one will believe me My eyes and ears conspiring to deceive me Please tell me she didn't say what I thought I heard Just one more pass through the liver until vision's blurred Driving around aimlessly, visiting all my old haunts I should have known better than to pack the room full of debutantes Whose idle chatter makes me long for a rope It's all I can do to keep from giving in to relentless hope Attached to your hip like I wished I was And there's no telling what this serum did or does Holding on long enough for the poison to work its way through my blood And I can't stand to be on the receiving end of this flood But I broke the dam and refused evacuation orders Cut from the same cloth but on different sides of the border And all I wanted was a place to call home But instead I'm forced to live with this sickness to roam Until I've found the right patch of dirt Enduring every self inflicted wound and pretending it doesn't hurt When you don't think about me, what's my fucking purpose? Lamenting the fact that I'm the one who birthed this Carrying to term what I can't come to terms with Begging these bottles for absolution like I'm pleading the fifth They say that good friends are hard to find An earworm that threatens to devour my mind…

[multistoty]

Continued

Today was the day a thousand dreams would die and a single dream would be born.The wind knew. It was the first of June, but cold gusts bit at the hilltop citadelle as fiercely as deepest winter, shaking the windows with curses and winding through drafty halls with warning whispers. There was no escaping what was to come.true strength comes from being willing to fail in order to progress. The truths of the world wish to be known, but they won’t force themselves upon you the way lies will. They’ll court you, whisper to you, play behind your eyelids, slip inside and warm your blood, dance along your spine and caress your neck until your flesh rises in bumps. Truth is as free as the air and we all have the right to breathe as deeply of it as we wish. It cannot be held back in the palm of any one man. It was why the magic in this place worked with belief. For one’s beliefs could contradict that of fact without losing their power. No one but the people’s princess herself  was  allowed to decide when Isolde was going to die.It doesn't always take an army to save the world. Sometimes it takes just one person who won't let evil win. In this case, there were two. They  saw what evil looked like, and they  knew we wanted to be different. Kieran may think someone who cares about those who are small and vulnerable would be the pawn alone. If he wanted to play this game, he had already lost his queen.

Isolde had to hand it to him when it came to the invention that this was a kidnapping. Especially if a guard her new companion so clearly cared for would bring her to heel for a king that would mistake his kindness. Would drive the knife further. Normally, the onyz haired girl would never let anyone know the dagger she carried. A weapon that could kill as well as throw any opponet five feet apart from it’s owner. Usually, the magic helped to throw them against something. Her mother’s magic had always come from feelings. The blades had ornate designs,but she gave parts of herself in each bit of pounded metal. Her father had teased before about what such a magically gifted figure specializing in weapons had work for in the cold peace. That was what they had always called it behind closed doors. It could feel like there were two Kandala’s. The prejudicial old world who took strength in believing themselves pure and better. And the people who rightfully were used to being forgotten. The tension had risen before the plague had come. The princes had worked out a deal for medicine. Her people needed her to give her heart away so soon after Lord Aiden had lost himself in battle. No one had found the body of the first and only man she had loved. What horrific irony that her husband’s blood filled the altar. She could only image a rage filled murderer losing his only witness and his pretty flower. Even the most delicate roses had their thorns. Years of peace had scaled back a lot of the security measures in Kandala. Yet, her father knew better than to send his only heir out without protections. The guards had become like brothers to her. They had taught her enough to fend for a bit. To allow running. One of her mother’s last forge pieces was the dagger that laid close to her chest while the other was secret eater who was no doubt being hunted out by Kieran for whatever macabre plans he had left. Yet,hope was hugging her, holding her in its arms, wiping away her tears and telling her that today and tomorrow and two days from now she will be just fine and she was  so delirious that she  actually dared to believe it. Yet….. why was this woman so knowledgeable and keen on protecting her? She didn’t seem the type for fanciful words in court speak. No. A kind though begrudging figure who had woven her dreams and nightmares with the princesses own. The voice and steps told her that she was coming close. The heels of the girl were a sound she could zero in on anywhere after years being sated by the court politics and parties. The leaves  would crunch much louder under that guard’s feet. It also was beyond thought that a man so heavily dressed would not go to the stables nearby before chasing them into the dark forest. A real line of wether or not his allegiance were to the handsome usurper king. They had said  such awful things of her. She had been planning her married court debut dress and now someone was being chased wanted for murder and kidnapping from saving her. There were secrets going on that she would need to get answers for, but the hum underneath her skin said this was the one to trust. It was part of why she had relented even slightly when the girl had practically dragged her out of there. The running halted slightly as the girl showed up and spoke. The forest was dangerous, but that cold water spoke of something more. She had waded in the lake a few times,but that wasn’t the same. Her court instincts wanted to go to work on them both between her updo hanging at all angles and blood soaked girl. A ballgown would seriously way them down. The princess was tapping her foot in nervous thought. There wasn’t much time. Now she had the dagger back in her possession and had already freed some fabric. With a wince, she reached to tear the beautiful fabric to middle thigh. Still modest and capable of warmth while being less of an impediment. Maybe they should swim for it would give them chances to free them of characteristics. The markings on her back could be hidden enough, but the runes decorating her chest would be a red flag without a cloak. “I- I can try my best. Can we trust your friend to not report were we went? Knowledge for them is power. Here, let me at your dress. It will help us be better at cutting through water quickly and stop from weighing down as much with everything that lurks around here. Dying before our mastermind came would seriously be a bummer for us and our people.”

@everguiltridden​