I didn't make this meme but I found it very objectum

gonna go ahead and crack pandora’s wasp nest open here—how could naruto have been good/how would u have written it

*begins chewing at my restraints and rips the iron door of my containment unit off its hinges* okay so the SHORT version is that naruto should have ENDED ssssomewhere around the Pain arc, maybe throw in one more, could probably keep..tobi...if you just make it WAY less convoluted, but. like that's it that's the wrap up on the lesson of NINJAS ARE HUMAN WEAPONS IN THE ARSENAL OF ENDLESS WAR. You can get maybe ONE more amp up, but the actual story did like 40, because it's shonen. Also Naruto could have had at least a LITTLE thought put into how he was like. raised. there is so much retroactive storytelling in this manga but apparently naruto has just been living in an apartment off his government provided milk and ramen since he was an infant. Maybe make me give a shit about Sarutobi by having had him go and bottle feed the demon baby or SOMETHING. Is Jiraiya the deadbeat sending child support checks or something? It's extremely hard to have Naruto exist at all as he is the second you put any thought into his childhood- which is why GAARA EXISTS. THAT'S NARUTO WITH 6 SECONDS OF THOUGHT. GIVE THAT BOY A FRIEND TO EXPLAIN HOW HE'S SO PEPPY!! SOME SORT OF GUARDIAN FIGURE BEFORE HE'S 12, Iruka could Almost count if he didn't act like he barely knew the little guy. Teacher Watches Orphan Go To Empty Home While Sad Flute Song Plays and says: Fuck that little kid, cant stand him, oh shit wait the author realized he needs one (1) parental figure in order to not lose his mind okay here i c Anyway, besides all that. Well for one thing Sasuke is RIGHT. Fuck Konoha! And the Government! did you see what they did to his clan!!! That one dude fucking HARVESTED them!! So you have little renegade fuck the system baby, and "If I'm king president I can fix all the problems!" baby. Good end: Naruto goes damn maybe u right and we should make some steps to try and alter the cycle of war and death and genetic eyeball supremacy. Neji voice: yeah i taught you all about weird bloodline family shit, remember that?? Bad end: The Entire Rest Of Naruto and Boruto, And No One Learned Anything. Also, the retroactive addition of GODS and PROPHECY anD REINCARNATION and MORE BLOODLINE SUPER WIZARD POWERS is so. Lame, Boring, Snore. Giving naruto a special baby background DESTROYS the fact he's kind of a nobody! He's just some kid with ONE skill he worked really hard on and he uses it in order to hack his way into doing all the other stuff he wants to do!! His only boon is haaving a LOT of energy to burn and STUBBORNNESS!! Screams in ADHD child Haku, Gaara, the Akatsuki/Orochimaru, and Pain. Are all good. Those are the arcs that stay and every one of them has a PRETTY STRONG POINT point about what happens when you smash children into little nukes. Eats that with a spoon. (PS JIRAIYA WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID YOU LEAVE THOSE INFANTS IN A WAR Z) Oh also there's a lot to be said on how to rewrite uhhh literally Any of the women characters into relevancy because as they are rn they barely even count as such. But if i talk about that I would be here for the entire rest of the y- IMAGINE IF SAKURA'S FUCKING MEDICAL JUTSU MEANT ANYTHING!! WHAT IF SHE COULD HAVE BEEN USEFUL AGAINST KONAN BECAUSE SHE CAN SEE ALL HER NERVES IN HER HORRIFYING PAPER FLESH NO JUTSU, SOMETHING, ANYTHING, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA *i am dragged back into my cell*

Demigod MC Series: Demeter

Have I been using this series to vicariously punish Belphie for the events of Season 1? I cannot confirm nor deny that statement.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter

Lucifer

Didn't think too much of the "human" when they popped out of the portal. Sure they had a straw hat and a huge basket full of produce but it wasn’t like they were… Wait… No… Were they…?

Oh no. Oh nonononono, this is not good…!!

Demeter is notoriously doting and protective of her children (see her freakout and breakdown after Hades abducted of Persephone as proof) and they've pretty much done the EXACT. SAME. THING. here!!

It was a mad scramble by him and Diavolo to contact and appease their godly Mother Bear before she came roaring down to Devildom herself to turn them all into barley. Thankfully, Zeus must have intervened at some point because though she was indeed PISSED, she didn't threaten to barge in… yet.

She made one thing very clear. Bend so much as a single hair on her precious child's head and there would be WAR…

The MC received a 24 hour security detail after that. Just Mammon wasn't going to cut it, he needed NO chances. It was a full rotation of Mammon, him and Beel for the entirety of their stay (Asmo and Levi both threw hissy fits at the prospect of babysitting, Satan couldn’t be trusted not to kill them just to irritate him, and Belphie was out for… obvious reasons).

In some ways, it wasn’t so bad. The MC was a very mild sort of person, rather even tempered. He’d dare say they were pleasant, mostly content to just tend to their gardens and be out in the moonlight…

But the problem was, he just could not convince them to stay OUT of nature. Including the forests, which were full of hellish beasts fully intent on gnawing their flesh from their bones… and their specialty was plants, not animals, sooo…

Their habit of sneaking out to wander the woods got so bad that he very nearly considered pulling a Belphie 2 and locking them in the basement for their own good. But Devil knows what damage their mother would do if she found out…

At least they make for pleasant company… And Diavolo seems to like them quite a bit himself so the mortal gets a pass from him. Now if they’d only consider their own safety for a change…

Mammon

They make him a KILLING.

Like, no seriously. Their produce is insane!! He’s never tasted food so good, especially stuff that’s come fresh from the ground! It only took a few berries for Mammon to throw on a straw hat himself and start harvesting! He’s a farmer now, baby!!

Weeellll not quite. He’s still absolutely only in it for the money, but anything he brings to a farmer’s market goes so fast that he can hardly care about the labor! He’s never made this much Grimm in his life!! And it’s totally legit for a change!

He bought himself another car, paid off half of his debt, and even got Levi back that 2 or 3 grand he leant him centuries ago. Really, Mammon’s living his best life and it’s all thanks to MC!

It’s a good thing his blatant grifting doesn’t hurt his relationship with them at all, in fact they seem to enjoy having his help regardless. They bring him drinks on hot days or invite him on picnics and stuff, it’s… it’s really sweet. They’re very nice to him and he appreciates it…

But… COULD YA JUST STAY PUT ALREADY???

It drives him INSANE that they won’t stay out of dangerous places!! After he started caring about them for more than just a meal ticket it only got even worse!!

He’s not usually one for monitoring someone’s every move (that kind of control freak behavior is more a Lucifer thing) but he eventually had to set up familiars around the House just to keep them from sneaking out at night...

What was so interesting out there anyway?? There wasn’t any kind of plant that he could bring them himself! They didn’t have any need to be out there!! 

They’d keep telling him they’d be fine but it’s not like he’s going to actually buy that. They were too… nice to be dangerous or anything so why would he believe them?

No more running off, MC! Please, he’s beggin’ ya!!

Leviathan 

Wait, gardening? Like, being outdoors and stuff? Ew. No thanks, he’ll pass.

That was more or less his first reaction when they showed up and it never really got much better than that…

He admits that they’re friendly and it’s not like he dislikes them or anything, but their thing so far from his thing that they just don’t have a lot in common… you know?

For starters, they get So. Antsy. when they’re inside for too long! He tried to invite them to a marathon once, but they could hardly keep still and kept looking around like they were searching for a window… He said, “to jump out of.” They insisted just for some fresh air, but he didn’t buy it...

They’re nice enough to listen to his rants, but they’re barely ever inside for him to do so and like HELL is he going to leave his room and stand around out there for that long. Ranting is at least a one to two hour engagement! What if he gets hot out there? And have you SEEN Devildom bees?? Hell no!!

He has, however, asked them on multiple occasions to reproduce flowers he’s seen in different anime, especially ones that have a very unique look and they’ve done some real wonders with that!

He can now claim to be the only person to ever own a Ruby-Jade Vine plant, straight from the pages of TSL when it was used to brew tea for the Lord of Lechery during his brief illness and-is anyone even still listening anymore?

The point is, it’s a flower so rare it was imaginary but now HE has it!... or had it for about a week until his utter incompetence of all things plant killed it…

He begged the MC for another but they were out of the plants they needed to make it and would have to go back to the human world to find more… He’s still mourning his loss… Poor Henry 4.0…

Satan

Well… He’s called this MC “salt of the Earth” and he does truly mean it. Take of that what you will.

He doesn’t get much in the way of intellectual conversation out of this mortal UNLESS he’s talking about plants, farming, or botany… Interesting topics and complex in their own right to be sure, but that’s pretty much their wheelhouse and they like it there.

That being said, the feats that they can perform are genuinely mind-blowing! They are the ONLY person he has ever met who can cultivate the Devildom’s own ultra-rare Phantom Orchid, a plant only blooms when it reaches a perfect state of undeath (i.e. both taken care of and neglected just enough so that it's only barely alive. The balance is so tricky to master that one hasn’t bloomed down there for centuries!)

There’s also something just genuinely relaxing about watching them work or helping them in the gardens… More so than he’d ever expected from such a simple activity.

He admits that he’s taken quite a few strolls through the flower-filled courtyard of the Demon Lord’s Castle just to admire its beauty... But anything that they can grow just blows all of that out of the water!

They even taught him several magic botanical techniques so now he can grow some pretty mad plants himself. Lucifer never expected to find that giant Venus Flytrap in his closet, but one was there regardless. 😏

Just… out of curiosity one day, he asked the MC if they could make him a new kind of catnip. Not for any nefarious reason! You know… just for research purposes…

The nip they made was so effective that the House grounds were FILLED with nipped-up cats for a whole month! He was in Heaven!! (and Lucifer practically wiped those plants from existence so he couldn’t get any more… asshole...)

That must have inspired them because they apparently made a demons-only version that they told him about WELL after the fact. Had he known, he probably would have burned the stuff on principle... Do you know how dangerous demon-nip could be to them? Experiment responsibly, MC!

Asmodeus 

Ehhhh, gardening SOUNDS like one of those things that should be super Devilgram-able, but then you realize how sweaty and dirty you get in the process and it’s a huge turn off… Sorry MC.

When they first came down to the Devildom, he thought two things: 1) Such a sweet little flower child, as adorable as they were, would never survive; and 2) even if they could, he would never ever see eye-to-eye with them on the “wonders” of getting all up in the dirt.

Well, he was right about 2, but certainly not 1. Personally, he thinks his brothers worry about them too much, they ARE still a demigod.

At one point he saw a pack of hellhounds almost trample one of their vegetable gardens and they lost it. Word to the wise, never try to take on a child of Demeter in their own garden. Those hounds were wrapped up in rose vines before they could even yelp...

Yeah, the MC would be fine.

That being said, while everybody else clamors over their produce, he thinks that their flowers are really where it’s at!

Taking just five minutes in one of their gardens is something else... He’s never seen blossoms as healthy and immaculate in all the Devildom before! Their beauty could (almost) rivals his own! What they do isn’t just a hobby, it’s an art.

He’s taken multiple pictures with their blossoms and they go viral every time. It’s so rare to actually see gorgeous, petal-filled flowers in the Devildom, most of the native plants are of the man-eating variety.

His only complaint about this MC is that they seem to feel much more at home in work clothes and dirt than they do in any sort of party-look he tries to give them… Cute as they are, they can afford to gussy up sometimes can’t they? Mud and grass stains don’t make for a good look, sorry.

Beelzebub 

Beel gardens and the MC gardens as well. Add on that they seem to be able to grow all manner of fruits and veggies and he likes this one. A lot.

They had just finished apple-picking when the portal nabbed them so they had a massive basket of apples at the time. Naturally, Beel more or less stole the thing on sight, but the apples inside were so juicy and good that he almost shook them down for more on the spot!

Imagine his surprise when they, half pleadingly, explained to him that if he got them some seeds they could just grow more… and it wouldn’t even take that long.

To be clear, the formula he saw was this: Get seeds > bring seeds to mortal > mortal grows seeds > mortal makes endless supply of food….

Congratulations MC, you’ve now earned the sixthborn’s eternal loyalty after a grand total of… two minutes. He didn’t even know their name, but he was willing to take a bullet for them (provided he got more of those apples).

The next several months were spent with Beel attached to them to the hip in some way, but honestly? It was just so wholesome anyway…

If he’s helping in the garden, he never complains. He does most of the heavy lifting and actually likes being out there with them (unlike others...)

Many afternoons were spent sitting under fruit trees and talking. Sometimes, they go to the trouble of preparing a picnic or something but it would always inevitably end with Beel plucking the whole tree clean of whatever ripe (or unripe) fruit he can get his hands on with a smile. 

The MC never minded though. That’s just another excuse to grow more, right?

His only problem was when the MC would sneak out to the forest… especially when they get too antsy and just go alone. 

He HATES it when they do that! How is he supposed to keep them safe if they just wander off?? He knows that they have a special connection to nature and all, but it isn’t safe…

He’s flown in and scooped them back up to the House on numerous occasions and his “talking tos” get sterner after every rescue... Please stay put, MC! He’d have so many reasons to be sad if you were eaten… 😔

Belphegor 

Okay, he was looking for a capable, if not gullible, human. Not a shoeless flower hippy!

He honestly wasn't expecting much out of this one... Damn their little heart because they did genuinely believed his lies, it’s just that they weren't… well… They were really good at gardening.

… And it grew kind of hard to keep hating them whenever they'd show up just to give him fresh berries or a bouquet to see him smile… He may claim that his heart is made of nightmares and orphan tears, but who doesn’t enjoy being given a batch of flowers? 

Damn their sweetness too… Right to here.

When it came time to kill them he had a heavier heart than he thought he would, but kind of saw it like putting down the sacrificial lamb. Gotta be done to reach better goals... Stiff upper lip and all that.

Unfortunately for him, they had taken to carrying packets of demon-nip with them as a self-defense measure…

He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected when they shouted “Get nipped!” at him mid-attack, but it wasn’t a face full of some smelly herb! Like, really smelly…! Actually, that smelt kind of good… Hold on.

Turns out murderous rage really doesn’t last long after you get what is effectively ultra-strong catnip thrown in your face. They ended up having to go and tell Lucifer what happened themselves because Belphie was way too blissed out on the floor to do anything... They were legitimately worried they might have fried his brain...

He’s told the effects of the demon-nip lasted three days. He doesn’t know, because he hardly remembers any of it... They described him as like he was high on “weed” and “ecstasy” at the same time but he doesn’t know what either of those are either so it wasn’t helpful…

Truthfully, they were so nice to him while he was recovering that he couldn’t even be mad afterwards so all's well that ends well? Either way, he’s sleeping under their orchard trees from now on. It’s peaceful out there...

They burnt all that nip though. It’s some strong stuff...

neutral, chap. 2 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary tommy learns a little bit more about your relationship with dream before spending his day with ghostbur, exploring neutral territory and learning of the war that sparked its creation.

warning mentions of war, violence, and injuries

previous | series masterlist | next

gif cred belongs to @chillcrafting

“you have a package, y/n!” ghostbur called out just as you placed tommy’s breakfast in front of him. the ghoul’s words went completely ignored by tommy, whose gaze was solely focused on the beautiful stack of pancakes placed in front of him.

y/n smiled to herself. “you can bring it in, bur. i know who it’s from.” she shuffled syrup and butter over to tommy just as ghostbur came in with the fateful package.

tommy was already half way through scarfing down the stack of pancakes when y/n managed to open the package, ghostbur gazing over her shoulder. she took out a note set atop of the contents.

she read aloud, “y/n, i’m sorry i haven’t properly stopped by in a while. my work requires much of my undivided attention right now, which i’m sure you understand. please work your magic for me with the clothes included, and i will be sure to drop by for them and a meal soon. there are a few extra gifts included for you. i hope tommy isn’t burdening you. signed dream.”

“i’m not a burden!” tommy spoke offendedly through a mouthful of pancakes.

“you’re right, tommy,” y/n hummed, handing him a napkin to wipe some syrup off of his chin. “you’re perfect company.” tommy smiled to himself as he finished off his stack of pancakes. y/n sighed to herself, “clay really knows how to ruin a good piece of clothing..”

“so you and dream are close, y/n?” tommy grumbled, picking up his glass of milk.

she shrugged. “as close as you can be with someone you barely see.” she placed his battered clothes to the side, sighing again when she saw the rest of the contents of the box. tommy didn’t realize this, continuing with his questions.

“i remember that he respected your territory when he stepped into it,” he recalled. “he was going to kill me, but then he realized he was in neutral.”

y/n nodded. “when i made claimed this territory as neutral, i made a deal with everyone: i would mend and tailor anything you needed as long as you respected my territory as neutral.” she held up a box of diamonds and a smaller box of netherite to tommy’s view, making his mouth drop open with surprise. y/n held out another napkin to him for the milk that had sputtered out of his open mouth while ghostbur laughed into his hand. “clay is the only one who still tries to pay me.”

“with netherite?!” tommy exclaimed, letting out a surprised laugh.

y/n shrugged, seemingly not phased by the generous gift. “the nether..” she shook her head, placing the valuable materials onto the table, “is not a place i like to go. and most of this will probably be going toward dream’s armor, anyway.” she sighed, placing the gifts back into the box and laying the tattered shirts on top of them. “trust me, he’s still too kind for his own good with these sorts of materials.”

“how much netherite does that man have?” ghostbur scoffed, looking at how much was contained in the box.

“probably quadruple that amount,” y/n chuckled. “he has far too much free time.”

“and he doesn’t even spend it with you,” ghostbur sighed, shaking his head with a goofy smile.

“i know!” y/n spoke sarcastically before laughing out. she closed the box and set it under the table. “i’ll deal with that later. do you want any more pancakes, tommy?”

“no, i’m stuffed,” the teen yawned. “but thank you.”

she nodded. “well, then how about ghostbur shows you around the territory today?”

the boys perked up immediately. “really?”

“yeah,” she laughed, taking tommy’s empty plate. “you two can take the day to explore and have fun. go be a kid, kid.”

tommy excitedly looked up to his ghost friend. “fancy a game of ultimate tag?”

“you’re gonna get crushed,” ghostbur laughed before they both ran out of the house, laughing. y/n smiled.

“oh! i should make them lunch..”

...

“how big is this place?” tommy laughed after a few rounds of tag. they had found their way to a pond in a forested area, tommy deciding his knee needed a break after all of their running. 

“it’s bigger than you think,” ghostbur assured, making sure to keep an appropriate distance from the water as they sat along the small shore. “y/n claimed the territory before l’manberg, so there really wasn’t any need for a turf war of any sorts for what she settled.”

“how long has she lived here?” tommy questioned.

ghostbur shrugged. “almost two years, i think. she’s made quite the life for herself since.” more to himself, he muttered, “god, has it really been that long since it happened?”

“since what happened?” tommy asked, leaning closer to his friend with sparkling, curious eyes.

ghostbur sighed, “i’ll admit, i don’t remember too much.. but i know there was a fight. one of the first wars of our time, and it was all over y/n.”

“they were fighting for her?” tommy spoke with confusion. “she’s not an object.”

“very good, tommy,” ghostbur prided, patting his friend on the shoulder. “you’re right, she’s not. that’s why y/n left her original home and sought to create neutral territory; to end the fighting and create a place where peace could reign. in exchange, she’d offer her goods and services.”

“so they were fighting over her for her skills,” tommy understood. ghostbur made a face. “..or not?”

“both sides obviously wanted her skills, but i think y/n tends to neglect the fact that they were all madly in love with her,” ghostbur sighed, shaking his head.

tommy raised his eyebrows. “a crime of passion, eh?” he joked, making them both laugh out before he asked, “who was it?”

“let me think,” ghostbur sighed, tapping his chin. “i know one was dream, but the other.. i think it was-”

“boys! lunch is ready when you are!”

tommy turned back to ghostbur. “well? who?”

ghostbur shook his head. “sorry, tommy, i don’t remember that far. that’s as much as i can tell you.”

tommy couldn’t help but fel disappointed, but he knew he couldn’t blame his friend. “that’s alright, ghostbur. let’s go get lunch before y/n comes looking for us.”

...

after lunch and an insistent rematch of tag, ghostbur and tommy made their way to the organized garden area.

“y/n grows anything you can imagine,” ghostbur bragged as tommy marveled as the fluorescent, beautifully natural area. “she’s been to nearly every biome to complete her garden.”

“you can grow cocoa?!” tommy exclaimed when he finally spotted y/n, who was swinging an axe at a low jungle tree.

“y/n found a way,” ghostbur shrugged, guiding tommy over to her. “hey, y/n!”

“hi, boys,” she smiled, plucking off the plant she had loosened from the tree. “was lunch good? im sorry i didn’t stay and chat.”

“it was delicious,” ghostbur complimented, tommy nodding in agreement as his mind drifted back to the mouth watering coleslaw and toasted sandwiches she had prepared.

“that’s good!” she smiled, placing the cocoa plant on the ground. “you boys may want to step back.” they did as told as y/n swung her axe over her head, splitting the cocoa clean in half and revealing the delicious beans inside of it. “voila!”

ghostbur clapped politely. “thank you,” y/n laughed, dropping her axe and picking up the split plant. “would you boys like a sample?”

“sure,” tommy shrugged, stepping forward with ghostbur. he picked out a few beans before popping them into his mouth. breaking through the semi-tough shell, the delicious, dark taste flooded his taste buds and made him nearly moan, as y/n’s food often did. he and ghostbur shared a look of satisfaction before he voiced, “oh, y/n.. they’re perfect.”

“that’s good,” she laughed before nudging her bucket closer to her and scooping the seeds out into it. “how has your day around the territory been?”

“entertaining,” tommy spoke before asking, “how did you get into gardening, y/n?”

y/n gave ghostbur a knowing smile before she answered the younger boy’s question, “i was tired of eating only meat and bread. gardening was a way to expand my diet to more than just carbs and proteins. also, it’s very calming.” they followed when she hiked up her bucket and moved to the next jungle tree.

“is it?” tommy questioned.

she affirmed with a nod. “it’s nice to be able to spend a day tending to things you made. the fruits of your own harvest are the sweetest, they say.” they watched as she knocked down another cocoa plant.

“they are,” tommy nodded solemnly, his mind drifting to a sadder, more familiar place. “that’s why i miss l’manberg.”

y/n was barely surprised by the boy’s open confession. she tossed her axe down again, going to place a hand on tommy’s shoulder. “i know you do, tommy, and i know it’s rough right now. but what we’re playing here is a waiting game; we’re waiting for a safe opportunity to get you home, and in the meantime, i’ll take care of you, kid.”

tommy offered you another nod and a smile. “we?”

y/n gave him a kind grin. “im going to help you as best as i can from where i am. and i know that’s not much from me, but i know that everyone deserves a home that they love. and you can’t get there alone, kid.”

“you’re right about that,” tommy sighed before looking into her kind eyes. “thank you, y/n. your help means a lot.”

she squeezed his shoulder. “of course, tommy. you and ghostbur go explore some more; try to keep your mind on the things you can control.” she picked her axe back up.

tommy looked to the pitying ghoul beside him before looking back to y/n, a new thought fresh in his mind. “can you teach me how to cook?”

y/n grinned as she lifted her axe over her head again. “of course i can, tommy.”

tommy smiled as she cracked open the plant. he looked back to ghostbur. “wanna go for a swim?” the ghost shot him a fearful look. “im kidding! im kidding, let’s go use some pigs for target practice.” they both began to walk off, chatting and giggling before tommy turned and called, “y/n!” she looked up attentively. “what’s for dinner?”

she smiled. “i was thinking ribs!”

tommy’s mouth watered at the thought. “oh my god, i can’t wait to learn how to cook..”

tag list!! @vanhakirja @victory-is-here @inkyynki @airiour @sylum @kiritokunuwu @221bee-slytherin @bllatrixcarpnter @soullesstaco @stxrryb1tch​ comment below or message me if you would like to be added <3

The Revived - Chapter 22: Preparations

This is chapter 22 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur

Word count: 3,093

Cw: pain, brief loneliness, implied derealization

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Wilbur was somewhat thankful that the early morning interaction had been disheveled enough, for Wilbur not to have been asked to leave. It was kind of funny really, that even though Wilbur had been caught trespassing where he shouldn’t, the young boy had been far too distracted to kick him out. Far too confused and awkward. It seemed to be a general trend whenever Ranboo was talking to him.

Though perhaps Wilbur couldn’t act as if he was above that awkwardness, as he hadn’t even gotten around to asking exactly what kind of party it was. He assumed however, for natural reasons, that if it was a party for a toddler, presents for said toddler would be involved. Regardless, Wilbur didn’t think giving a present to a child would be looked down upon in any case. If anything, it might repair what he previously damaged. Even if it was an infinitesimal amount, it could still help.

“Oh oh oh! What should we get him?” Ghostbur asked excitedly, “What does he like? Red, gold, nether things, books…” He chuckled as he jokingly added, “Us! We could wrap ourselves in a present.”

Wilbur chuckled despite himself. “We could,” he said with a smile, feeling a bit of exhaustion dragging at him, but finding it easier and easier to ignore. “Let’s see if there’s anything we can use in these chests.”

Wilbur rummaged through them for a while, only managing to find four gold ingots that could perhaps interest the child. He briskly crafted them into a pair of gold boots that he figured would suit Michael’s size. He narrated the action to Ghostbur as he did it.

“They’re like rubber boots!” Ghostbur had commented excitedly.

“Mhm.”

“Oh, I have an idea!” 

“Shoot,” a smile lingered in his voice as he grabbed a dark gray satchel nearby. It was light-weight and durable. Perfect for a gift or two. He carefully put the golden boots inside it as Ghostbur rambled on cheerfully.

“So, hear me out. I’ve got the best idea ever in the whole universe. We should make him a card! He can hold and look at it, and you can be nice in it too!”

Wilbur walked downstairs, grabbing some sugar cane from the farm as he quickly pressed it into paper. A quill sat nearby as he picked it up. “Alright, so a simple message…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off.

“Okay, how about, ‘Oh, Michael, you are the most amazing person to exist and I hope you continue existing forever.’”  

Wilbur looked into the air as if he was on The Office. “Or we could go with something more general.”

“I gotcha! We can do ‘You are the most amazing person to exist and you are so cool that I hope you continue existing forever.’”

“First of all, I thought I said more general, not less.”

“I did make it more general! I removed Michael’s name from it.”

Wilbur facepalmed gently so it wouldn’t hurt Ghostbur. “I meant for it to be less… emotional? I don’t think that’s the right word, but I want the card to be neutral.”

Ghostbur hummed in agreement. “Okay. We can say ‘I feel neutral about your existence, but I do agree that you chose to exist at this current time, and by the way, you are also very cool.’”

Wilbur sighed, “I’ll take over the writing.” He narrated the words on the paper, “Dear Michael, The world will be at your feet someday! But for now, it's just these gold boots.” A smile slipped on his face at the words replaying in his mind in company with Ghostbur’s noises of approval.

“Oh can we do a drawing at the bottom? Michael likes drawings.”

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Ghostbur excitedly squealed, “Can we- oh my, I have so many good ideas.”

Wilbur chuckled, pleased to hear the ghost being his typical self again. “I can start with drawing Michael?”

Ghostbur clapped, “Yeah! And- and holding hands with him?”

“Sure, just give me one second.” He might have been a leader of a nation and a general for many soldiers, but Wilbur certainly was not an artist. He tried genuinely drawing a face, only for him to scratch it out and get a new paper out and transfer his original message onto it. Instead, he imitated Michael’s drawing style- stick figures. 

He drew playful lines across the bottom of the paper. He eventually formed a small stick person with little pig ears, a big smile, and black boots. He would have colored them, but he didn’t want to risk Michael eating the paper as he did just days ago. 

Next to Michael, he drew a slightly bigger person. Curly hair at the top and a rough trenchcoat around the body. He hesitantly finished the picture with a small smile on his own face. It felt a bit silly to draw like that. To be making a card for a child after everything, drawing handholding and smiles. Yet Ghostbur’s excitement was strangely infectious. It was sort of relieving in a sense, even if Wilbur wasn’t the type to fall for such bright positivity.

“Alright, the drawings are finished.” 

He was about to fold the paper into his pocket when Ghostbur called out, “Wait, did you put any stars on there?”

“No?”

“What kind of drawing is it if there’s no stars?!”

Wilbur sighed quietly as he quickly scribbled some stars in the corners. “Alright, I’m putting it away now-”

“Wait! Did you sign it?”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “I’m giving it to him. He knows it’s from me.”

Ghostbur pleaded, “But cards always look better if they’re signed. Just a quick, ‘Love, Wilbur and Ghostbur’ makes the card a thousand times better! No- a billion!”

Wilbur sighed as he remained frozen in place before the words settled in. His mind easily processed the ridiculous request, but not the fact that Ghostbur wanted to be signed on the card too. Wilbur should have probably assumed it, but the idea didn’t fully settle with him. “Alright.” The words were quiet as he quickly wrote down, ‘Sincerely, Uncle Wilbur’.

"Is there anything else I need to add?"

"Hmm, I don't think so."

Wilbur gently placed the card in the satchel as he quickly ran up to see the clock once more, but he slightly frowned to see the hour hand still lingering between the four and five. He brushed it off though. He could easily occupy himself anyway. His eyes glazed over the books on the table before he internally groaned at the thought of hitting the books once again. 

He walked over to the table, placing the satchel onto it, before grabbing one of the books before Ghostbur spoke, "Oh, we're reading again?" His voice sounded slightly dismayed.

Wilbur shook his head, "Nah, I'm just putting away some books." Ghostbur made a pleased sound  as Wilbur quietly pushed the leather-bound book back into its spot. 

He sighed quietly at the odd silence of the room. He focused on the ticking of the clock. It

was a nice sound to focus on. It was a constant reminder he was still alive. Even if he wasn't

the happiest in his position, he was alive. 

An alive man that was going to attend a toddler's party with a homemade card that had poorly drawn stickmen inside.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, as he finished putting some of the books away. Most of them held no useful information anyhow, and perhaps leaving them out would appear suspicious, should Tubbo return.

He wondered for a brief moment if Ranboo intended on telling Tubbo about Wilbur’s presence in the bunker. He imagined Tubbo insisting on having a talk as soon as Wilbur arrived. Prime, Wilbur despised talks. He just hoped the awkwardness of the interaction, and Ranboo’s apparent secrecy, was enough for Ranboo to leave it out.

Wilbur walked downstairs, finding that his leg had almost healed during his days in the bunker. He was going to harvest some watermelon, simply to pass the time. As he was about to do so, his eyes fell upon something dusty, peeking out of a chest he hadn’t bothered looking much at before. He knew what it was. He closed his eyes momentarily, to get a hold of his thoughts, before walking to the chest, and taking out a dusty mirror. 

He rubbed the shiny end of it with his sleeve. The mirror was still vaguely cloudy, but it still showed him nonetheless. Well- not exactly him, but rather his body. The man who stared back was nearly unrecognizable with gray bruises scattered along his face that easily complemented the bags under his eyes.

Complement was a rather strong word as all of his features seemed off-putting to him. His greasy hair hung close to his pale-ish skin. He squished his face with one of his hands, truly making sure that his reflection was his own. Of course, the mirror version moved along with him, but he strangely wished it didn’t. 

His mind drifted back to his encounter with Ranboo. Had they really intended on inviting Wilbur to the party in the first place? Or had that been done out of pity?

The only good thing about his reflection was that he couldn’t see the burns along his chin anymore. He touched it gently, finding the skin to be a little softer than before. 

He automatically put the mirror down as he headed towards the shower that laid in the bunker. He stopped two steps away as Ghostbur chimed in, “What time is it over there?”

“Oh… I don’t know.” He was pulled out of his thoughts quite easily as he stayed frozen in place.

Confusion laced Ghostbur’s voice, “You can’t check?”

Wilbur shut his eyes tightly for a moment before taking a sharp breath, “I could, but I have to ask you something.”

Wilbur despised the cheeriness in Ghostbur’s response. “Ask away!”

Images of Wilbur’s face flashed through his own mind as he hesitantly asked, “Alright, Ghostie, there’s not an easy way to bring this up.” Ghostbur hummed in acknowledgement, not wanting to interrupt Wilbur. Despite Wilbur not wanting to continue on, he forced the words out of him, “So- do you know what a shower is?”

“Yeah! It’s one of those plants on the ground with pretty petals.”

A dry chuckle left Wilbur, “No, that’s a flower.”

“Oh. Is it what Tubbo uses in baking?”

Wilbur sighed this time, “No, that’s wheat flour.” As Ghostbur was about to give another guess, Wilbur cut him off, “I’ll just tell you.”

Ghostbur sounded slightly dismayed at his refused answers, “Alright.”

“Alright. Alright,” the words were quiet in his mind as he forced himself back on track. “A shower is something people do to get clean. They use soap and… water to do this.”

“Aww, I was about to guess that too.”

“Right.” It was now or never. “I think I need to take a shower.”

“Okay!”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “You’re… okay with me taking a shower? You know it’s going to require water, right?”

Ghostbur’s breath hitched at the realization. “Ah. I thought you meant soap or water.”

Wilbur exhaled, the tension flowing through his body. “Yeah.”

“So why do you need to take one? I know people in general do it, but you can explain to him that water hurts me.”

Wilbur shook his head, “He can’t know about you.”

Child-like curiosity filled Ghostbur’s voice, but it was slightly dimmer than what it should have been, “Why?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. It was too risky to describe in words. With how little trust Tubbo had in Wilbur, it would most likely foil their plans of Ghostbur’s escape. The suspicion and worry in Tubbo’s eyes wouldn’t temporarily go away at a joke. There wouldn’t be a moment alone with his thoughts as everyone whispered about the mind of his. They wouldn’t say anything bad either, just harsh truths that hurt more than he’d like to imagine. The truths he thought he could escape by finishing his unfinished symphony. 

Wilbur’s failed nation transitioned to a mind that couldn’t go a day without the desperate need to talk to someone again. The need for someone to reassure him he was alive and he wasn’t imagining something in the train station again. He was quite imaginative in there. He made fantasy worlds with so many new people, but at the end of the day, he imagined Tommy by his side laughing or cooking breakfast with Tubbo again. 

On the rougher days, he would imagine Fundy there. Sometimes he talked about his problems to him, only to cry harder when he remembered his son wasn’t actually there. Or he would imagine Niki running a hand through his hair, telling him all the things he needed. He’d been without that real warm touch for thirteen years that holding himself made a shaky sob leave. It had been pathetic of him to imagine such things, but the silence got to you after a few years, after he had spent a long time growing bitter. No one could see him anyway, so maybe it hadn’t counted at all, as he thought about those potential blissful moments.

The moments he never got. Perhaps he was still at the train station after all, the slight buzz of the lights being the only noise he could hear. No one laughed with him when he came back. The most he got was a dry chuckle that he happened to witness. There was no one to hold or listen to him. Not a single person smiled at his return. He was alone in the train station he thought he escaped days ago.

Tears blurred his vision as he wrapped his arms around himself. He pushed his body against a wall as he slid down it. The gray wall that accompanied the gray floors and flickering fluorescent lights. The tunnel that didn’t stop seemed to stop his mind. It blocked him in every direction that led to happiness before his murmuring thoughts entered.

It took a moment to realize it wasn’t his thoughts, but rather an echoy version of them. “Wilbur? Is everything okay?”

Wilbur swallowed back a cry. “Yeah,” his voice shook for a moment as he tried to breathe normally. “Sorry I spaced out for a second.” There wasn’t a train station. He wasn’t back there. He was in the bunker. “What were you saying?”

Ghostbur quietly answered, “Nothing. Oh- earlier you said you wanted to take a shower?”

The words brought Wilbur back to a more tangible reality. “Right…” he said with a nod, pushing himself up from the ground, his posture wavering slightly. He swallowed something in his throat. “Are you… Are you okay with that?” he quickly added, “I’ll make it as brisk as I can I promise! It’ll mostly be to wash my hair, and to look and smell just a little more presentable.”

Ghostbur had very little reason to trust him. Wilbur was incredibly aware of that at this point, his promises losing all meaning at his forgetfulness, or plain dishonesty. “Of course. Just- Just don’t take too long please.”

“I won’t,” Wilbur said. “I promise,” he repeated, trying to add as much weight to the words as he could. Engrave them, so his mind wouldn’t drift away from it. To keep his mind from drifting away in general.

Gently he put his clothes aside, placing the familiar old trenchcoat and blouse in a little pile. He had associated the outfit with himself for so long, that looking at it apart from him, was almost surreal. Slowly, he walked into the shower. He put the temperature to be as cold as he could, unsure if there would even be hot water in a bunker like this. It would serve as a good reminder that he should make this quick. “I am going to turn it on now. It’ll… It’ll probably reach my entire body.” 

“Okay…” Ghostbur said. Wilbur caught himself missing the excitement from when they were making the card together. Frivolous. 

He placed his hand on the shower knob and turned it, careful not to let his hand too much under the water. It proved to be a rather needless endeavor though, as his face and body were immediately drenched in cold water. He immediately shivered from the feeling as he felt his movements become jittery and robotic. He heard hurried breaths from his mind, and whimpers of pain, though it was surprisingly silent this time around.

Wilbur let his hand through his hair, massaging his scalp. He grasped some soap next to the shower, and mixed some into his hair and on his body, quickly using the water to wash it off. His heart was beating fast, as he rushed to turn the knob once more, some soap still lingering on a few strands of hair. He bolted to the other side of the room, to dry all the remaining water off with a towel, almost as if the uncomfortably cold water was burning him too. The second he could no longer find a drop he let out a few breaths. “There we go. Done.”

Ghostbur took a moment before he replied, his own breathing calming down as well. “Okay… Okay, that’s good! T-thank you.”

Wilbur cringed slightly at the gratitude, not entirely certain what he was being thanked for. “Of course,” he said quietly, his breathing quite obvious and echo-y in the empty room. He suddenly realized that he missed the ticking of the clock. He shook his head, and put on his clothes again, unsure if the warmth they brought was comfort or something that settled heavier in his chest. He didn’t have time to dwell on it.

He walked out of the room, grabbing the satchel with Michael’s present in it. He glanced at the clock once more, finding that it was only around 5:30am. He stood in the middle of the bunker for a good minute, closing his eyes tightly, and holding on to the sound of the clock. When he opened his eyes once more, they settled on the potions he brewed over the past few days. There weren’t many, but they comforted him nonetheless. He absent-mindedly packed three strength potions into the satchel, perhaps planning on giving some to Tubbo and Ranboo as a gift. 

Then, with determined steps he started walking towards the exit. It felt as if a weight was slightly lifted as he walked out the bunker, though he had grown so used to the weight that he wasn’t sure if that was comforting to him or not. Once he found himself in Pogtopia, he decided to focus on the ground beneath his feet, rather than the buttons lining the walls.

When the sun reached Wilbur’s face, the rays seemed to make his vision less blurry in a sense. The darkness that was so welcoming before, and still called to him, was shoved away in favor of the sunrise.

He remembered right then, when he had declared the first sunrise he saw when he returned, his sunrise. A reminder of life, and opportunity. He stared at the bright sky for a little while. Gently, he placed the satchel on the ground, the glass bottles quietly clinging against each other, and sat down in the grass next to it. He breathed the air into his lungs, as his shoulders untensed. He watched the sunrise intently, as he waited for the party to approach.

lame

07.

look, i know i’m an asshole but at least i’m trying

“Look at that, isn’t he amazing?” the blond boy yells, pointing at the TV on display, showing one of those heroes in work.

“Uwah, All Might’s so cool!”

(E/c) eyes followed the boys’ gazes, watching a big hulking figure power through villains.

She could only nod, half-heartedly, keeping her eyes on the screen, listening to the two boys go on about how amazing he was.

Booming laughter sounded off from the screen, the two boys anticipating as the hero turned to the camera. “I am here!”

And then, the boys went wild – gesticulating wildly, words of admiration leaving their lips, eyes twinkling with amazement. Honestly, it was easy to like someone as big and prominent as All Might.

But in a world ruled by quirks, and your perception of them tainted at an early age, it was difficult to really set yourself on where you stood.

“Isn’t he the coolest, (Nickname?)” green eyes turned to the (h/c) girl.

“Uh, yeah…” came the girl’s reply, rather dull and lacking in the same energy as the two boys.

“That was a weak reply, (Name)!” the blond boy turned to her, a bit offended. “You should be crying out like me and Deku! All Might’s the coolest!”

Chancing a look at the said hero on screen, she shrugged, unsure how to reply to that. “I mean, I guess he is.”

Both boys froze at their friend’s lack of admiration for their favorite hero.

“Sorry I’m not like you guys.”

“T-That’s okay, (Nickname).” The green-haired boy says, voice shaky and his eyes sheen with tears he’s fighting off, smiling warmly at her.

“Hey, that doesn’t mean I don’t like him, though. He’s just not my favorite hero.”

The blond boy’s carmine eyes widen at that, the three kids began to walk home together once the show was over.

“Then, who is your favorite?”

“Hm…I guess I prefer the quiet heroes, I guess?” she nods, mind thinking of policemen, teachers, cooks, train staff, and fishermen. “Ones that don’t really stand out but are cooler in other ways.”

“Ah, there’s this one hero I heard about from Kyoto!” Izuku tells her. “He has a healing quirk, but he’s also really good at martial arts and carries a cool staff with him.”

“That’s Merlin!” the girl gushes excitedly, her walking having a bit of a jump. “The Wandering Hero: Merlin! He’s so cool! I think my grandpa mentioned him before, having trained in our dojo when he was still in training. Ma says he was the prettiest looking man next to Pa. And Pa says his quirk’s extra cool if you get to see it in person!”

(E/c) eyes sparkled the more she gushed about this hero of hers, one he’s never heard of because of his rather elusive nature as a hero.

“That sounds amazing, (Nickname)! I wish my family could have known All Might as well!” the green-haired boy’s tiny fists shook with excitement, sharing her enthusiasm.

“Tch, All Might’s still better. Just wait ‘til I become a hero, (Name)…” muttered the blond, hands in his pockets. “Then you’ll see that I’m definitely the best outta the rest.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, looking at her friend in disbelief. Then mischief.

Getting behind him, she kicks the backs of his knees, causing him to topple to the ground face first.

“Ah, Kacchan!”

“What the hell was that for, (Name)!?”

“That was so lame of you, Katsuki!” laughed the girl, sticking her tongue out as she grabbed the green-haired boy’s hand and proceeded to run ahead of him.

Angered the boy rushes to his knees, cheeks definitely not flushed, and gives the two a chase. “HAH!? WHO’RE YOU CALLING LAME!?”

Three little kids ran down the streets, laughing in their wake.

Traditions in Japan were rather a thing that made the country quite known to the outside world, as many adhered to certain types of customs.

And as per family tradition, certain family never fails to hand over ochugen gifts to the people in your lives.

A (h/c) girl was headed off to the Bakugou’s first, a box full of fresh harvest from her grandpa’s garden. Coincidentally, it also happened to be Izuku’s birthday and she got him special tickets to that superhero exhibit. To commemorate, she had even worn an All Might shirt!

Reaching the Bakugou’s, she put down the Midoriya’s box, before reaching for the doorbell. Someone yelled inside, followed by explosive remarks, which was something she’s rather used to.

Patiently waiting, she felt a buzz, taking her phone out of her shorts pocket, smiling when she saw a text from the birthday boy, feeling the excitement through his text.

The door clicked open, her smile still in place as she furiously texted Izuku back. As she pressed reply, she then pocketed her phone and readily met a pair of carmine eyes.

Except, the owner of said eyes came from the last person she cared for, smile flattening.

For a second there was surprise in his features, softening slightly as his usual scowl set in. His eyes took in her form, the box, then at the ridiculous shirt she had on. “What the fuck are you wear-“

Behind him, a voice called out. “(Name)-chan!”

It was Auntie Mitsuki.

Smile finding its way back, a rather polite one at that, the teen greeted her back. “Hiya, Auntie!”

Shouldering her son aside, receiving a snarky reply she didn’t bother with, the Bakugou matriarch’s eyes shined at the sight of the young teen. “Look at you, growing up so fast to be this cute!” unable to help herself, she reached over to pinch the younger girl’s cheeks before swallowing her into her arms for a hug. Releasing the girl, her carmine eyes then focused and shined at the items in her hand. “Ah, Shihan really has the neatest harvest every summer, thanks for these!”

“We most graciously bestow our gratitude to you, oh great Bakugou Mitsuki!” the teen implored, rather dramatically, earning a laugh between the two, like a running gag.

Bakugou could only watch, quite amazed at their relationship.

“Oi brat, get this will ya?” snapped his mother over her shoulder.

“Don’t tell me what to do, hag!” screamed the blond back, carefully taking the box from her hands.

Their eyes met briefly before she easily slid them away to focus on his mom, an instantaneous reaction.

“You seem dolled up, (Name)-chan. Got a date?”

Humming, she tilted her head to the side. “You could say that,” at that, Bakugou nearly stumbled in his step but she didn’t notice. “it’s Izuku’s birthday today and I’m just having a birthday date with him in a while!”

At the mentioned of Deku, Bakugou froze in his step, looking over his shoulder to take in her attire once more – a gaudy All Might shirt tucked into some simple denim shorts, then some sneakers.

“Aw, ain’t that cute. Oi, Katsuki, why aren’t you with them!?”

Caught, he burst out a reply. “HAH? Why the hell would I spend time with those extras?” his words got the best of him before he could control himself, her brows knitting together, pain flashing through (e/c) eyes for a quick second. He instantly regretted opening his stupid mouth.

“Anyways," he couldn't help notice the slight strain in her voice, feeling his heart drop "I just came to drop by our ochugen gifts. Thank you again for all your help, Auntie.” Grabbing the Midoriya’s gift box from the ground, the teen worked on a smile. “Please tell Uncle Masaru I said hi!” And with that, she was gone.

Both blonds watch the young girl walk away before the door closed. Without a word, Mitsuki walked back in, giving a quick smack to her son’s head before disappearing into the kitchen.

Her hit was rather soft, reprimanding.

Something unpleasant filled his gut as he dropped the gift box on the dining room table and headed off to his room, pained (e/c) eyes haunting him.

You always hurt the ones you love.

Does it feel weird to feel close to someone you haven’t spoken to in years? That there’s always been this sort of connection between the two of you that instantly links you together even after days, months, years of zero contact?

Well, that’s how Bakugou Katsuki feels towards Yuroichi (Name).

Ever since they were kids and he was introduced to (Name), she was all he cared about. Well, there was Deku, but he was second on his list.

(Name) had always been special for him.

But then, things changed.

Since being paired up with Deku for his practical exam, he was unsettled. Well, he’s been unsettled for a lot of things for lots of reasons. But basically, what he’s been unsettled about with Deku was (Name).

While he remembered wimpy Deku trailing behind him, there was always (Name) ready to drag him away or be beside him. Where there was Deku, (Name) was sure to follow. They were like a combo; one was never without the other. He hated it.

Deku had no fucking quirk, was weak, small, a shitty nerd, yet he had the fucking gall to stand up and try to be a hero. With that, (Name) shifted her attention and adoration to him and him alone.

Honestly, he didn’t mind that they were quirkless – they honestly just got in the way.

Still, it fucking hurts that (Name) wouldn’t bother looking his way or even saying a word to him. Fuck, even Deku would acknowledge him even if it were outta fear!

Bullying probably made sense to keep her distance, especially since he loved targeting weak quirkless like Deku and her. But to be on the receiving end of those angry eyes, it made him weak. It may have enforced and asserted his dominance in middle school, but to her, it was a disgusting power play.

He may not be close with her compared to when they were younger, but he’s always kept an eye out for her (and Deku, shut up). He knows that she’s an expert martial artist, bagging and winning several competitions and tournaments, was the pride of the school and her family dojo, sleeps a lot during classes, and sometimes, the older kids would pick on her because they knew she was tough.

(However, after that one time in middle school, she stopped with the fighting and worked on a clean slate.)

She never befriended anyone without a quirk lightly, the majority of her friends either were quirkless or had a really minor, insignificant quirk. She didn’t seem to care nor mind. However, Deku remained her closest companion.

He’d see her a lot – in hallways, in class, on the way home, but he never got to be with her.

Nonchalant, lax, yet kind and sweet to others, but to him, she was forcibly polite and civil.

Those adoring, reassuring, warm (e/c) eyes were reserved for that one shitty nerd.

He hated to admit it, but he craved for her attention, yearned for her approval, and desperately lingered on the fact that they were childhood friends, so he’s obliged to keep a relationship, even when now they’re barely acquaintances.

On his middle school graduation, while he was surrounded by his so-called friends and his parents, his eyes easily caught on two people laughing amongst themselves.

Just seeing them, laughing together with cherry blossoms fluttering to paint an idyllic image, suddenly made him feel extremely lonely. His hold on his diploma slackened, fingers and foot twitching, eyes taking his childhood acquaintances in.

Graduating top of his class, with a bright future set for UA High School. He should be excited, right? Ecstatic even at what he’s gained? Yet why does it feel so lacking?

Carmine eyes began to soften, especially at the smaller of the two. Realization dawned unto him, the occasion was rather bittersweet for (Name), as it was nearing a year since she lost her parents and she couldn’t share the joyous occasion with them. Thankfully, she had her grandfather with her, then Auntie Inko, and Deku.

But not him.

Irked, he left before his mom could find them, no doubt, to use the opportunity to snag a photo of the three.

Nothing hurts more than to realize that the one person – he swore to protect, to keep by his side, had completely shunned him.

At first, they were inseparable. But as the years passed, they drifted apart.

The day (Name) punched him was a literal awakening, a prologue really. It got him worked up. Then the Sludge Incident happened. Her parents died. The light in those (e/c) eyes weren’t as bright as before, even when she got a part-time job.

He knew he was wrong; he won’t deny that (but he won’t say it out loud either), but he won’t ever hide from it either.

After getting into UA, he felt her punch even more at the introduction of his classmates with quirks, as she aptly put it “better and flashier” compared to his.

That stung, hurting his ego.

Damn, the top was a challenge.

But he wasn’t backing down, damn it.

So, what is he was a proud asshole? He had every reason to be! He had compensated with his talents, smarts, and versatility.

Still, to be called out on having a shitty personality boosted only by the fact that he had a strong quirk could do a number to him.

When it came to matters of the heart, he sucked in that aspect.

(h/c) locks, framing a pretty face with (e/c) eyes, they always, always, always manage to catch him off-guard.

Unbeknownst to the green-haired nerd, whenever he opened his big mouth to his friends in 1-A, he’d hope there was something about (Name), no matter how small or insignificant. They even texted.

Pride would always win over him whenever Deku would openly talk about (Name) – Bakugou would pretend to be uninterested, looking out the window while he was actually taking in the nerd’s words like a starved man, he was the only source of news he had because for the first time in their life, (Name) was not there with them. It sucked. (She was very clear on steering away from heroics or people who had a quirk, despite having one herself)

The days were lonelier and duller without her. Deku’s ramblings were something – slightly comforting, but don’t tell him that, but it just missed that one figure next to him.

For all his bravado, just the mere mention of Yoruichi (Name) made him weak. Wait, scratch that, (Name) was a strong person by herself, he did not make him weak, shut up. Hesitate, yeah, that’s the word, she made him falter, hesitate. Whatever.

Thankfully, none of his idiotic ragtag of friends keyed in on that. Save for Deku.

Deku, who’d always known. Deku, that sharp fucking nerd who always tried to be the goody-two-shoes and goaded him to talk to her.

Like fuck he’d talk to him about (Name), fucking no way. He’d rather have his nails done with half-and-half bastard than to have a heart-to-heart talk with fucking Deku.

Still, there was just one thing he was sure of about Deku, one thing he’ll never admit to anyone – or even him, out loud: compared between the two, Deku was always the bigger person. He was kinder, gentler, better.

A part of him would forever be jealous of the fact that Deku had been there for her when he couldn’t. Deku had access to parts of (Name) he was barred from. Deku was protective of her. Deku had (Name).

And as for him? Well, he was probably good as a dead fuck to her.

The punch still stung.

Nothing hurts more than to realize that you never had a chance, to begin with.

From: (Name) Yuroichi

To: Bakugou Katsuki

I’m glad you’re safe.

A day after Kamino…

For once, the Bakugou household was at peace, a day after his kidnapping. The day before, there was screaming, yelling, crying from both parentals that probably had dried off for today. At least for the first few minutes of the day.

The doorbell rang, Katsuki called out to get it, desperate for a bit of distraction from the silence around him.

He opened the door then froze, breath hitching. Two breaths, actually.

Carmine met (e/c).

For once, indifference was not the expression set on her face that he was looking at, but a softened expression. So incredibly soft.

An image of a younger her suddenly came to mind, back to when they first met each other.

“Katsu- “stopping, her lips pinched together, a small frown setting in, not ready to say his name just yet.

Hurt flashed in his eyes, desperately taking her in.

When he was kidnapped, first of all, he was annoyed as fuck, but most of all, he was scared. The League of Villains had him by the neck, literally, immobilized him, just to lure out All Might. And the thing that kept him grounded was her, (Name). The memory of her soft expression after they’d washed the dishes, comforting silence between them, that burnt mark on her neck, her telling him to have fun at summer camp. Her text message.

Remembering her presence at his doorstep, his eyes caught hold of the item in her hand – ochugen gifts, he uncharacteristically gestured at it.

“U-Uh…”

“Y-Yeah…ochugen.”

“My mom’s not home, so…” his words came out lamely, weakly. So, unlike him.

But she was so lost in her head that she could only nod.

Gently, he reached for the box, their fingers brushing against each other lightly.

Something fluttered in his chest, wildly and tightly. Summer seemed to have come quickly as he was beginning to sweat, the smell of burnt sugar bleeding through.

“T-Then…”

“Hn,”

Head still hung low, he took it as her parting, something in his chest twisting painfully, and he slowly turned on his back.

(Before he headed back in, instincts – maybe, or her heart forced her to, she grabbed hold on the back of his shirt, stopping him, and pressed her head between his shoulder blades, taking in his scent.)

Bakugou didn’t move, feeling her shaking hands balling into fists, as though to ground herself.

“I…I know I said this already, but still, I want you to know,” her voice was shaky, but she continued to speak, taking a deep breath. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” The thing in his chest continued to flutter wildly, threatening to come out. “And I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

Silence followed, likening to a pregnant pause, there was more she wanted to say, but the fear of having your feelings get the best of you seemed off-setting in the given situation, so she settled for that.

Before another word was said, she hurriedly grabbed the Midoriya’s box and clumsily left, completely red in the face.

He watched her leave over his shoulder, she almost ran into the gate, fumbling with the box as she headed to the Midoriya’s.

Suddenly, he felt lighter. The punch no longer hurt, leaving a bruise in its wake. This was the beginning of progress with her, it was something. Proud as he is, Bakugou’s never one to admit his mistakes, but for her, he’ll try.

If anything, she was right about everything she thought about him. Especially the part that he was lame.

masterlist • eight

WIBAR Intermission: New Friends

winner of the first july patreon poll! thanks to @legendsgates for allowing me to sneak in a brief cameo of their alien species, cetarfreka!

previous intermission episode | start of WIBAR

warnings: violence, fear, tension, ptsd episodes, injury mention, being held hostage, misunderstandings, deception

-

It was about halfway through their trading circuit that the vidcomm from the Mindscape popped up.

Remyy perked up instantly, Patton’s distinctive singsong voice clear even from half across the main bay. They dropped to their feet and tucked all their wings tight against them to signal that anyone in the way should swiftly get out of the way. Those in the bay who knew them cast strange glances in their direction as they hop-skittered across the floor.

Remyy couldn’t blame them; this was probably the fastest they’d moved all week. They usually maintained a much more casual demeanor for the sake of their reputation, but in this case...

“Patton! Babes, you’re really okay!”

“Remyy!” The Ampen fluffed up, a pleasant glow filling the room around him, face pinching up happily.

In this case, exceptions would be made.

The Obrxyx currently managing the comms sighed at them, unimpressed. “You have this one, then?”

“Sure do,” Remyy drawled, still leaning between xem and the monitor so that half their face took up the comm screen. “We go way back, I’ll get them docked.”

They waited impatiently for xem to move to a different comm terminal, adjusted the seatpad so they could be seen properly through the comm, and promptly started complaining. “I can’t believe you guys, holing up in that rinky dink ship for so long with only voice calls to tell everyone that you were okay! Where’s the gossip? Why in the universe would you keep it from me?”

Patton’s hands jerked, and the comm screen wobbled, blurring his expression strangely for a moment. Remyy tilted their goggles slightly for a better angle, but by the time the mobile communicator stabilized, any change in demeanor had vanished.

“Be careful, Rem,” Patton said teasingly, “it almost sounds like you care about us or something.”

“Funny,” Remyy replied dryly, “I’ll have you know that I’ve just been missing Logan’s high quality deathbrew, none of that sentimental garbage.”

Patton laughed at them silently with his gaze alone. Innocent, naive Ampen, their ass.

“Are we cleared to dock y-- Is that Remyy?” Another voice from offscreen dropped abruptly into horror, and Remy’s eyes narrowed in gleeful amusement.

“It sure is, gurl,” they called, “and the Remyy in question seems to recall a certain bet that was never paid up on. 30 cenals, cough ‘em up.”

There was a loud groan, and then a thump that shook the comm slightly. Patton spent a moment staring at something with a confused frown, and then seemed to get it, nodding. He turned back to them very seriously.

“Sorry, Roman can’t come to the comm right now,” he informed them. “He, uh, died. Very recently. And tragically."

Belatedly, he put on a sad expression, antennae drooping. Remyy raised their eyebrows, unimpressed.

“Uh huh. Well, I suppose I’ll just have to join in on the funeral rites once I get down to help carry the goods over, huh--?”

“No!” The voices of both his friends overlapped, making the comm audio fuzz harshly for a moment. Remyy’s secondaries flared slightly, taken aback at the vehemence.

“Uh, I mean, we don’t have that much,” Patton hurried to patch up the awkward pause. “How about we meet you in the docking lobby instead? You can get Roman’s credits there.”

“Hey!”

Remyy’s ears angled back with displeased confusion, but they acquiesced anyhow. “Hurry up, then. And make sure Logan brings my brew!”

Whatever it was they were hiding, Remyy was sure they’d be able to weasel it out of them in no time.

---

After grabbing a short meal and a boring haggling session between the Mindscape’s crew and the cargo manager of the Starwinder, Remyy finally got to learn about what had happened to Patton during his disappearance.

It wasn’t pretty.

Their senspatches felt dry at the mere thought of Patton stripped of his coat and forced to starve because of it. It was beyond lucky that the remaining two of the trio managed to find and free the Ampen from the harvesters before it was too late. If anyone could do it, though, they believed this crew could.

Patton had grown quieter and less fluffy throughout the course of the tale, with Roman and Logan taking turns delivering a well-practiced explanation of the events. Seeing as these were extenuating circumstances, Remyy submitted to cuddles just this once, allowing the small alien to bury his face in the folds of their leathery armwings.

They took a moment once the story was over, casually and completely unintentionally folding more of their wing over Patton. “That bites, babes.”  

“Yeah.” The Ampen hummed in response, mouth pinched strangely. “I… I’m really grateful that I got help when I did.”

Logan set a careful hand on Patton’s back, though the motion almost came across as less comforting and more… cautioning? Remyy’s senspatches flared up slightly as they tried to read more into the situation.

Before they could really investigate, though, Roman was leaning forwards and grabbing the edge of their arm to get their attention.

“Remyy. We’ve been having something of an adjustment period. Drop it, please?”

They flickered their ears at him dismissively, but really… looking at the small crew, they could see a sort of wariness reflected in their stiff posture, the way the three of them constantly cast glances back to the dock hall that would lead to their ship. Trying to make sure they had a quick exit. Whatever the details of their experience, it was stressing them out to lay it all out in the open like this. Remyy could understand that.

“Fine, whatever,” they sighed, sipping at the bitter brew Logan had thoughtfully provided. “I suppose I’ll keep my awe-inspiring ability to root out interesting tidbits to myself for now. I can just grill Lo later.”

The three friends slumped in relief, and Remyy turned their face away slightly to allow them some privacy to recover. They probably wouldn’t appreciate it, that was mostly an Elimtran thing, but it was the effort that counted. They cast about for some other topic to distract. What else had they heard about lately… oh!

“Have you all heard the stories about the rogue Human going around lately?”

There was spluttering, and they turned back to see Roman seemed to have inhaled mid-drink, and was now muffling coughs into his shoulder. Patton studiously avoided eye contact as he patted the Cravon sympathetically. Logan shifted one arm out from where they were politely tucked away, looking intensely intrigued. Strange, he wasn’t usually one for gossip.

“We have not,” he stated, hands twitching in preparation for his thought weaving thing. “Would you care to elaborate?”

“Uh, duh,” they replied, trying not to think too much on the rather extreme reaction.  If the crew was really so stressed, it made sense that news of a Human would freak them out. Shit, they sucked at this. Gathering information would make them feel more secure, yeah? “It’s been circulating at some of the more shady ports we’ve been to, rumors that a small-tier smuggling ring recently managed to rise through the ranks just because they got their hands on a Human and knew how to use it to their advantage. That much is like, okay, horrifying to know that there’s still Humans out there in the outer ranges, but whatever, it’s under lock and key.”

Patton clung to their wing tighter. They paused, deliberating on whether or not to continue.

“I assume, going by the fact that you called h-- it a ‘rogue’ Human, that's not the case anymore?” Logan supplied, waving for them to proceed.

“Well, yeah. Apparently, it tore through practically half the group members before escaping, and now people are reporting cases of a bloodthirsty Human all over this quadrant. Not that the calls are accurate. It’s just hearsay,” they made sure to add. “It might just be someone trying to work the local governs into a panic, put pressure on the Council for this or that political maneuver.”

Logan didn’t respond for a concerning amount of time. “Right. Of course, that is plausible. Still, thank you for the information, Remyy. We will… keep it in mind.”

Remyy sunk lower in their seat, regretting bringing the topic up at all. “Mm. You do that, babes. Remember the stats, too. There’s a warrant out. Sooner or later, the Council will probably find whoever’s at the source of the rumors and put them to rights, Human or not.”

“That’s… great,” Roman got to his feet abruptly. “I think maybe we should head out soon. We’ve got that next landing to prep for, after all. Holmao isn’t known for its gentle terrain.”

“What?” Remyy’s secondaries flared slightly as they stood up too, abandoning their drink and dislodging Patton. “You just got here! Aren’t you at least going to catch a night’s rest? No offense to your ship, but the arti-grav ain’t exactly stellar.”

“That’s why we need to do more jobs! Save up for better arti-grav installation, right guys?” Roman’s voice seemed slightly frantic. Remyy suddenly remembered what little history the Cravon had shared with them, and swore mentally. They really, really shouldn’t have brought up the Human.

“Ro, look, I’m so--”

Their voice abruptly cut off as a cool line of metal pressed between their wings, right against their life vein. They saw as Roman’s eyes locked on something behind them, scales rising to a prickling stand quicker than they’d ever witnessed before.

“Nobody move,” a voice behind them called in clear, precise Common. “Or you get to bleed out right after this one.” The flat of the blade pressed harder against their back, and they couldn’t stop their ears from flattening completely in terror.

“Let them go,” Roman demanded, halfway to a snarl. Before he could even take a step, though, more armed strangers were swarming into the lobby, barking orders for the few other people currently in the room to get down. Expression dark, Roman held his arms out in a gesture of compliance, though his scales continued to stick out in a defensive bristle.

Raiders, it had to be. Remyy knew they knew the reptilian symbol that was engraved in each of the strangers black masks, but they couldn’t remember the group’s name for the fear flooding their mind, keeping them frozen in place.

One of them kicked Patton clear away from Remyy’s legs, and the Ampen let out a short shriek of pain before clapping his hands over his mouth. The raider behind Remyy laughed, apparently unconcerned about any alarms being raised, but Remyy was more focused on the way the Mindscape crew exchanged panicked glances, Logan kneeling next to Patton and subtly signing something in Crav’n.

“Now, here’s how this is going to work.” The one behind Remyy gestured with their other hand, which Remyy could now see was holding a paralyzer. Raiders were known for using them to get information, since most aliens could take a few shots from one before succumbing to the pain. “You’re all going to line up against the wall while we search your vessels, and in exchange, nobody has to die, got it?”

Remyy could only look straight ahead, so they got a clear view of Patton’s furious glow dimming down to horrified in an instant at the leader’s words. Whatever the three of them were hiding, it was hidden on their ship, and apparently not well enough.

They ran their tongue along their teeth for a moment, debating, and then wiggled their ears slightly, loosening the grip their goggles had until they were slipping down their face slightly. Only their upper eyes were exposed, but with any luck, it would be enough.

It wasn’t long till they managed to make eye contact with a nearby raider; the leader was the one giving orders, after all, and they were being held hostage by said leader, so it made sense that eyes would stray in their direction.

The moment they locked gazes, Remyy flickered their pupils and let their senspatches slowly pulse. The raider took a moment to bob their head in confusion before becoming visibly more relaxed, and Remyy didn’t waste any time. 'Circle around and attack the one holding me.'

The raider swayed slightly for a moment before moving to obey, a side effect of not being exposed to the full hypnotic effect of their eyes, and Remyy had a moment to feel hopeful that maybe they could actually pull this off.

“Grahh’m, what are you-- Oh, you little shit,” the leader spat, moments before a strike to the side of Remyy’s head had them seeing stars. They heard Roman growling furiously, still forced to the ground under threat of gunfire, and hoped that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. He wouldn’t be any use if he was convulsing from pain.  

“I should have known better than to leave an Elimtra awake and armed, hmm?” The leader flipped them to their back, pressing a knee to their chest and crushing their secondaries uncomfortably against the floor. A moment later,  their other hand was shoving their goggles harshly back over their face.

Remyy gagged slightly as all the air was forced from their lungs. “Probably should’ve, ye-- eah,” they replied, struggling to inhale again.

“Funny.” There was a glint of silver uncomfortably close to their eyes. The knife. Remyy regretted the snark. They regretted the snark so much.

The leader paused. “Oren, is it the eyes or the little spots under them that do the hypnotizing, do you recall?”

There was a pause, in which ‘Oren’ seemed to have no answer, and Remyy realized with a chill just what was being threatened. The leader considered them for a moment, and then pulled their dark mask further up to cover more of their face.  

“I suppose I’ll just get rid of both, hmm?” The knife wavered closer.

Across the room, there was a loud crash, and a strangled yell that cut off as quick as it started. Remyy watched as the leader’s head jerked up, and saw the moment that the severe frown on their face abruptly transformed into utter terror. Hurriedly, the raider stood back up, and they were pulled up along, shoved in front of them like a shield.

It didn’t take long to see why. Across the lobby, near the entrance to the dock halls, a tall, slender figure was holding the remains of what must have been a seatpad. The rest of it appeared to be lying crumpled along with the limp raider that had been closest to that entryway.

The whisper spread through the room as quick as any small-town rumor: Human.

The being was scanning the eerily-silent space, and when it reached the spot where the leader stood, accompanied by Remyy and friends, it’s lips curled up into a vicious snarl, teeth on full display. It moved forwards in a way Remyy could only describe as predatory, and the leader went tense behind them. “Stop that thing, now!”

One raider, either damn brave or damn stupid, charged right in, and received the rest of the seatpad to the skull for their efforts. Remy winced at the sound. This seemed to be the signal for the rest of the raiders to converge, and the room descended into pandemonium.

In the thick of it all, the Human-- for what else could it really be?-- continued to advance, unrelenting. It wasn’t as fast as some aliens Remyy had met, but it didn’t need to be. The way that it stalked through the room radiated threat like an oath, and when opponents did dare to stand in it’s way, the blows were vicious and crunching, often leaving splatters of residue on its skin.

Most frightening of all was the way it handled the paralyzers, which should have driven any creature with pain receptors to the floor. Each time a shot landed on the human, it would tear the spiked prongs out with a twitch and a grimace and just keep moving.

By the time the leader realized that a strategic retreat was long overdue, it was already far too close for comfort. Remyy heard a swear behind them, and then they were being shoved, hard.

They caught a glimpse of Roman moving, and then they found themself busy tripping directly into a Human’s warpath. So much for surviving this.

They folded their wingarms over their head in some paltry attempt at defense as they fell. There was a grunt, and then a hot grip on their shoulders, all-too-close to the base of their secondaries and stars above were they going to have their glider wings torn clear off--?

“‘Scuse me,” the Human muttered in Common, and then lifted Remyy clear off the ground, easy-as-you-please, and set them down to the side. It brushed past them, heading straight towards Roman and the others, and Remyy stared after it.

Rather than continue after the leader, who had been thoroughly pinned by Roman and was currently swearing viciously, the Human stopped in front of Logan and Patton and dropped to a crouch. Remyy jerked forward, but neither of their friends seemed keen to jump away or defend themselves. In fact, Patton looked to be carefully headbutting the Human’s chest, and Logan was speaking in low, comforting tones. Even stranger, the Human seemed to be listening.

The circuits connected in their mind, illuminating a truly outlandish conclusion.  

They whistled lowly, drawing all the attention in the room to them. “Listen up, babes. As a subsect representative of the Council, I’m authorized to do my thing here, so I’m gonna need everyone to follow my directions.”

“Remyy, what?” Roman asked, and was thoroughly ignored. A nearby Cetarfris protested from where they were practically pressed halfway up the wall, red eyes wide and patterned tail thrashing in terror.

“Are you genuine? Do you not see the Human right there?”

Remyy clicked their tongue in reproach. “Gurl, do I not have enough eyes for you or somethin’? I will handle the Human. What else is the Council good for?”

“Uh, governing?” someone else muttered. Remyy ignored them, too.

“I need all the raiders that haven’t already jetted in holding cells immediately. I’m sure there’ll be a hefty reward for members of this particular gang, even if they’re small fries, so anyone who pitches in can get some of that bounty. And remember, keep your mouths shut about this unless you want to be up to your orifices in paperwork at best. If you have to gossip, keep names out of it or I'll know who snitched.” Remyy shifted their goggles up on their forehead, turning to the Human and ignoring the thick tension in the room. “I’ll escort the Human to proper captivity. Roman, Logan, Patton, with me.”

As expected, the mere fact that the Mindscape crew were accompanying seemed to put the Human at ease, even if just slightly. Now, came the bit that would make or break the lie. They moved forwards slowly and reached out for the Human’s shoulder, tugging slightly at it as though this wasn't the creature that had just plowed through a band of raiders like they were dust in the wind. “C’mon, babes.”

After a pause, the Human followed. The relief in the room was palpable, and Remyy was no exception. They liked a good bet as much as the next guy, but generally preferred when there weren’t so many lives at stake.

See, the thing about being a species that was somewhat infamous for their hypnotic abilities was that everyone assumed you were using them, even if you weren’t. This tended to lean more in the direction of being a bad thing, but in this case, it helped Remyy tremendously, as nobody cast a second glance at them as they guided the docile Human through the lobby.

That might also have been because nobody wanted to be in the same room as a rogue Human for very long, but such was the way of things. Small details.

Soon enough, they reached the dock halls, and Remyy swiftly led the four of them onboard the Mindscape. They closed and locked the connecting port after them, and resisted the urge to collapse in relief.

Instead, they turned around to assess the rest of this mess.

It was quite a scene, and at first, they seemed too busy amongst themselves to even notice Remyy.

The Human was curled in on themself in one corner, looking pallid and ill, but also coiled so tightly it looked like they were one wrong word from fleeing the quadrant. Positioned firmly in front of them, Roman was audibly rattling from head to tail, moving on automatic as he bodily prevented the other two from approaching. Remyy would have thought the gesture was for the Human’s sake if not for the way Roman angled his own body, like he expected to be attacked from behind at any moment.

“It’s not safe,” he uttered over and over, gaze haunted. “It’s not safe. You have to hide.”

Patton warbled in wordless distress, and Logan gave up on trying to pull Roman away, instead simply holding his ground and speaking to the Cravon, calm and firm.

“This isn’t then, Roman. We’re here, and that is Virgil, and he is not going to hurt us. We’re safe. We are on the Mindscape. We are safe. Observe the space around you. Can you tell me five things you see?”

Remyy waited unobtrusively as the two of them slowly coaxed Roman back into the present, bit by bit. When he hunched over to be closer to his shorter friends, Patton carefully grabbed his hand, rubbing small circles into it in a soothing gesture Remyy wasn’t familiar with. “You with us, Ro?”

Roman signed something with his other hand, too quick for Remyy to grasp, and Patton smiled, a bit sad. “We’re okay, but there’s a little bit of a situation going on with Remyy, remember?”

Roman glanced at them, and then to the Human, who was still vibrating violently. Remyy had thought it was barely restrained anger, at first, but the longer they watched, the more it seemed compulsive, more fearful than furious. It only increased as Roman’s attention fell heavy on him.

“I didn’t mean to,” the Human said, voice as shaky as the rest of him. “I swear, I-- I just heard Patton yell, and they had weapons, like-- I… I didn't want to hurt anyone. I’m sorry that I-- that I did. But you guys were in danger. I couldn’t just... leave you to that.”

He sounded almost resigned, like he was trying to plead his case but had already accepted deep down that it was pointless to fight his sentence. When Roman turned away from him, his thoughts only seemed to be confirmed, and his face dropped another shade as his gaze darted over to Remyy. He seemed apprehensive, not that Remyy could really blame him. Poor guy probably thought he was about to be surrendered to law enforcement.

“Remyy.” Roman’s voice sounded wrung out, and from Patton’s concerned expression, the Cravon probably didn’t normally force himself to speak after episodes like this. “Virgil isn’t-- He’s better here with us. He doesn’t... deserve to be subjected to the Council just because he decided to... to save us.”

The Cravon opened his mouth as though to say more, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he signed something short and planted himself in a sitting position in front and slightly to the side of the Human, even as his scales still shivered. ‘Virgil’ was staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Roman’s right!” Patton took the opportunity to jump in front of them like the universe’s smallest, cutest guardian angel, cloak and ruff fluffed up stalwartly. Most effective of all was the Ampen’s ‘I’m-not-mad-I’m-just-disappointed-at-your-life-choices’ look. “Virgil is part of our family, and I’ll fight you about it!”

The Ampen’s tiny glare wasn't nearly as alarming as the assessing look Virgil cast over them, like he thought Remyy was really going to try and fight Patton and was prepared to intervene. They resisted the urge to cast their lower eyes up in exasperation. Who would fight Patton? There was no reward, you’d just end up feeling bad. And also end up getting totally trashed by a Human, apparently.

As always, Logan was the one to get it first. He stepped forwards, extending a hand. “Before you take any legal action against our crew member, I’d like to see your Council identification.”

Remyy’s cheeks bunched up smugly as they stretched their armwings out in front of them casually. “That’s too bad, Brainiac, ‘cause I totally don’t have any.”

There was a brief pause. “What, you guys really thought I was some kind of narc?”

“You lied right to all those people’s faces?” Patton asked, somewhat aghast. Roman shot them a dirty look at the deception, but he also let all the tension leak out of him, so Remyy counted it as a win. Logan simply looked exasperated.

“Not completely. I’ve got connections to get their bounties called in quick, and I ‘handled’ the Human, didn’t I? It’s not my fault if they misinterpreted things.”

“This is all you’re going to do to… ‘handle’ me?” the Human asked, looking uncertain, a little suspicious, and even kind of bewildered. “Just… let me go? What’s the catch?”

They really did roll their eyes up this time. “Babes, I’m covering for you. Seeing as you literally just saved my beautiful face, and these losers vouch for you, I figure you can get some benefit of the doubt. Besides, I’m not done with you all just yet.”

The four of them studied Remyy with varying levels of wariness, and then confusion as the Elimtra strolled past them all to head further into the ship.

“If you think you’re going anywhere before you tell me all about how this whole situation came about, honey, you’ve got a big storm coming.”

Plants With Teeth

A requested idea from a reader on ao3.

“Welcome to the Junto Space Port," the security repeated the same old procedure with each new wave of visitors passing through. "All incoming travelers must check-in through customs before continuing. Please make sure proper identification is ready to be presented." Kartch followed the flow of travelers without much thought. She'd done this route so often with her business ventures, she almost had the number of steps from the terminal to each of the check-in spots memorized. Her eyes glazed once again over the sea of fellow travelers. There was an exceptionally large variety of species on this trip. That wasn’t too odd. It was a popular time to travel to Junto. The weather was exceptionally pleasant this time of the year, celebrations and festivals were going on nearly in every street and township in the region, the harvest of several important crops was just about wrapped up, and business and inter-solar trade were booming. Kartch wondered just how many of her fellow ex-passengers were here on vacation and how many like her were here to work. A heavy something from behind smacked into her short tail. It didn’t hurt really, but it was enough to throw her off balance. With a surprised squeak, she dropped her luggage and reached with all four arms instinctively to try to grab something, anything, to stop her fall. Before she hit the floor, strong hands grabbed her and carefully helped her back up. “Woah there, I gotcha, I gotcha,” a voice she could tell was being translated by her chip filled her ears. “Sam, you gotta be more careful, you nearly took them out!” Kartch looked up into the face of the alien that had saved her, who in turn looked down at them with a concerned expression on their light brown face. “I’m sorry about that. Are you okay?” It was a human. Kartch stared for half a glip before catching herself. She’d of course seen plenty of humans before but hadn’t ever dealt with them directly or this closely. Now one was basically holding her.

“Sorry Mirela,” another voice piped up from behind. Kartch looked, it was another human carrying what looked like must be a large, hard plastic case that must have been what hit her earlier. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” the human holding Kartch helped her back up to her feet and picked up the dropped luggage. “I’m sorry,” the reprimanded human dipped their head. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and shouldn’t have been messing around with the boxes like that.” Kartch made a gesture as if she was brushing herself off. “I accept your apology. I’m not hurt and all is well.” Mirela frowned at the other human as she stood back up to her full height.“You shouldn’t have been messing around with them at all. Those are merchandise, not toys.” Mirela leaned over to pick up another two boxes that appeared to be identical to the ones her companion was carrying. Never one to be rude enough to ask aloud, Kartch wondered what the humans were carrying and what they planned to sell. Instead, she asked, "Those look heavy. Wouldn't you prefer a wagon to carry them?" The human Mirela smiled. "We're fine. We’ve got someone getting one for the rest of what we've got. And well, these things are lighter than they look. They're just a bit bulky to carry. Thank you for your concern though." Then as if knowing the question Kartch had on her mind. "We've got a few little plants we're taking to the street market in the north Jupo District." “Plants?!” Kartch started and gave the pair of humans with a bit of alarm. “To sell? From Earth? I hope you don’t have much trouble getting through customs.” “Yeah, no we made sure we followed all the requirements. No pollens, nothing bearing easily spread seeds, nothing poisonous, etc.” As Mirela spoke, another human approached, pushing a wagon laden with more of the large boxes. Mirela glanced over at the new arrival before turning back to Kartch with a soft smile. “We did our research, don’t you worry.” “Mirela,” the new human stopped the wagon to look between their companion and Kartch. “Uh, they got the plants up here in good time alright. Um. Are we… what’s going on?” Kartch cleared her throat. “Ah, well. I won’t keep you. May the stars grant you luck.” With a smile and a wave, a common farewell among humans, Mirela and the other were off. As Kartch continued on her way, she couldn’t help but steal another look at them. Humans, she thought. Huh. Well, go figure they’d want to visit Junto. Compared to their home planet, or at least what she’d heard of it, Junto must seem to be a paradise of safety and splendor. The customs lines were long and weren’t moving as fast as she’d like. It took forever to wind through the twists and turns of the queue. She kept looking at her timepiece, growling quietly each time she did so. She wished they’d open more customs booths, that would help ever so much with getting everyone through more efficiently. Or that they do something at least, this was taking more time than she'd planned. After what seemed like partecs, she reached the front of the line. She hefted her luggage onto the inspection counter with a huff that was a mix of exasperation from her wait and relief that it was over. The security personnel began with the regular questions and asked for identification. As she pulled it out and handed it over, she saw the humans she had run into earlier arrive at the front of the line just next to her. She heard them being called up and watched only for a moortik as they placed a few of their boxes on the counter before she returned her attention to her own business. It was not polite to stare after all, and she just needed to make sure she got through here without any more further delays. The security personnel behind the counter was just finishing up with their inspection of her luggage and wrapping things up when a surprised screech nearly made everyone jump. Kartch turned her head, looking for the source of such alarm. Surely someone was hurt? Or in danger? What was it? “What are those things?!” Kartch found the source of the alarming sound. It was the security personnel at the counter with the humans. Said personnel was now looking slightly orange in the face and was staring into the now opened boxes the humans were transporting. Kartch, as well as everyone else nearby, leaned in to try to get a better look at what all the commotion was about. The human Mirela sighed and pulled the box open a bit more and pulled out one of the specimens. It was a flexible clear cylinder with a small green plant inside. Kartch could see the plant had large oval-shaped leaves or petals at the end that had a bit of red coloring with small thin stems pointing out and slightly up from the petals. So those were the plants the humans were going to sell? Well, they looked harmless enough, cute even. What had gotten into the security-? “Are those teeth?!?” the customs worker nearly squeaked out the words. Everyone who had been looking on froze. What? “They’re venus flytraps,” Mirela explained calmly. “They’re a carnivorous plant from Earth.” She pulled out an important-looking paper and handed it across the table. “We have a permit to sell them and a signed acknowledgment from the Inter-System Trade Commission of their safety and potential as a useful house-plant, as well as permissions to sell and trade them within the Junto system. The customs personnel didn’t look like he’d quite overcome his shock just yet. “Carnivorous… plant?” he repeated back. Kartch agreed with his confusion. Those two words didn’t sound like they belonged together in the same sentence. That little plant in the human’s hand didn’t look like it deserved such a bizarre description. Her own customs personnel, finally breaking his stare at the proceedings of the booth next to his own, finally shut Kartch’s luggage, stamped its carding, and slid it back to her with a silent nod before returning attention back to the drama next to him. Kartch pulled her luggage off the counter and slowly stepped toward the exit, her eyes still locked on the strange plant in question. It didn’t seem that strange-looking to her to cause such a ruckus. But then she saw it. Or rather, she got a better look at it. The stems she thought she saw curving delicately away from the petals were actually teeth. Oh. Those were teeth. That plant had teeth. Plant teeth. Those petals were some sort of plant mouth?! The customs personnel numbly took the paper the human Mirela handed and scanned over it, looking perhaps a bit too dumbstruck to really comprehend what was actually written. Mirela continued to explain what the plant was and did. How it could survive in even the poorest soil, how it could trap and digest small insects and pests for nourishment, and how the Inter-System Trade Commission as well as several committees and interplanetary environmental groups had studied and approved it, and were even pushing for it’s use in helping to combat a dangerous pest infestation problem on the third moon of Biurbitak. Kartch could stop and wait forever to hear more, the next person in line behind her slowly shuffled up to the counter. And anyway, she did have places to be. Blinking and shaking her head, she tore her eyes away from the strange plant held by the strange alien. As she finally walked out of the exit, she felt her fur prickle across her body. Carnivorous plants. Those are apparently a thing. She took a deep breath and let it out. What kind of planet must Earth be that it’s so dangerous, even the plants have teeth?

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.1 (BAON)

Summary:  Stretch was pretty used to waking up alone. But the day after being kidnapped? Not so much.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Notes:  Time to deal with the aftermath of Just Swimmingly! Good luck, boys...

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Stretch was pretty used to waking up alone.

Even on the weekends, Edge wasn’t one to lounge around in bed when there were things he could be doing. It always amazed Stretch a little that Edge could sit at a desk for hours every day; that endless energy of his was similar to Papyrus’s, only more contained, banked like the coals of a campfire and ready to burst into flame whenever it was needed. It tended to escape him through his hands, whether he was typing or kneading bread dough, or touching Stretch with care that bordered on reverence. Sure, his injured leg might’ve slowed Edge down a little on the jogging front but it sure wasn’t stopping him anywhere else, his hands were still perfectly fine and he was putting both of them to good use whenever he could.

Which did not include lounging around in bed.

So, yeah, waking up alone was pretty much the norm. What he hadn’t expected was for it would be the norm today. Today, of all days, after everything that happened last night, the drugging, the kidnapping, the Judge—

But he didn’t want to think about that right now, thanks, Stretch’s mind was all full up and that shit could wait. What he was focused on right now was waking up alone in the bed he shared with his husband with the sheets on the other side already cool to the touch.

Stretch pulled his hand back from Edge’s side and rolled over on his back, looking up at the ceiling through the dimness and trying not to feel the aching hurt settling inside him. The last he remembered the two of them had been sleeping on the sofa, so that meant at some point Edge carried him upstairs and left him here. Not really a surprise that Edge didn’t stay, but it sure was a disappointment. He’d been expecting…well. Something else, for sure.

The bedroom had room darkening curtains, a thoughtful addition Edge put into place before Stretch even moved in, ensuring that he got plenty of sleep without the sun poking its way in before he was ready for it. Even they could only do so much, a narrow beam of brightness was coming around the sides and yeah, he was being stupid right about now. It was probably the middle of the afternoon, what, was Edge supposed to lay here all day, watching like a creeper while waiting for him to wake up? Sure, some overprotective cuddling and maybe a good handful of unreasonable demands for him to stay safe at home would have been nice, but it wasn’t exactly fair of him to expect it, now was it. If he wanted schmoopy cuddles, he’d just have to go out and harvest his own.

Stretch kicked off the blankets long enough to spread out, joints popping luxuriously as he groaned, and then yanked them back up before the chill of the air conditioning could make him shiver. He reached for his phone only to belatedly remember it was missing in action. There weren’t any other electronics in the room with a clock in them, Edge liked the bedroom to be dark as a grave, and damn, that was a thought to have today.

Anyway, there wasn’t really a good way to tell the time without his phone. At a guess, it was at least past noon, probably a lot later considering they went to bed after sunrise.

Welp, if his day was beginning, he needed his morning coffee to function even in the afternoon.

He decided to get dressed instead of going down in only his bathrobe, burying himself in the familiar comfort of one of his extra-worn hoodies. It smelled like the laundry detergent Edge preferred, strong and fresh, different than the one Blue used. Stretch paused as he was pulling it on, tucked inside the body of it like a cotton womb as he breathed in the clean fabric scent. He was sweating a little by the time he pulled it down over his skull, absently wiping his forehead on his sleeve as he dug out a pair of pants and some comfy socks.

Normally he’d grab a pair of his own, he had scads of ‘em, socks with pictures of chickens or pizza, lace ruffles at the cuffs or rainbow ones that pulled all the way up over his bony knees. Whatever caught his fancy ended up in his overflowing sock drawer, he loved them, even if pairing them all at laundry time was a bitch. This time, he took a pair from Edge’s side of the closet, plain white crew socks, the same as he wore with his motorcycle boots and Stretch paused briefly, remembering the clothes he’d been wearing last night. They’d been Edge’s, too, and now they were trash. Or more likely, they were evidence, there was a zero percent chance that Red’s team hadn’t found them, at least one tracker had to have been hidden on them somewhere and wasn’t that suspicious, that those assholes thought to strip them away and send them into the dumpster.

Even if Red were willing to give them back, something that was probably right below never on the scale of probability, Stretch didn’t think he’d want to see them again. Fuckers ruined them, ruined everything they’d touched, and they deserved what was coming their way, deserved retribution and—

Stretch firmly shook that thought away before it could hit more than a simmer and went back into the bedroom. He went to the window and pushed the curtains back, turning the narrow beam of sunlight into a flood. It illuminated the contents of the bedroom, the bed filled with rumpled blankets, the dresser with his zombie hand ring holder, Edge’s little collection of cologne bottles and the fancy box where he kept his cuff links, bathing it all in a haloed light.

On one wall was a full-length mirror, one that Stretch rarely used. He used it now, standing in front of it to look at himself. Too tall, skinny bones hidden under an oversized orange sweatshirt with swirls of black covering it like smoke, and a pair of plain white socks still clenched in one hand. There were rusty stains of exhaustion under his sockets, the light of his magic in his joints dimmer, darker. He needed to eat, that was all. Some food and coffee would go a long way to getting him back on the right path.

He sat on the bed to pull on the socks and when he was done, he wiggled his toes, watching them waggle beneath the shield of plain white cotton. Then he headed on downstairs. Wearing something of Edge’s was nice enough but he was kind of looking forward to getting up close and personal with the man himself.

From the fragrant smell filling the living room, he had a pretty good guess where Edge disappeared to.

When he went into the kitchen, he could see the oven was on, something rich and yeasty baking away. Typical, Edge liked to make bread when he was stressed, kneading the dough with a fierceness usually reserved for…actually, Edge did everything with a sort of fierceness, didn’t he, and it was always worth watching.

That show was already over. Edge was at the sink washing dishes, a few damp patches showing on the front of his apron. His cane was leaning against the counter, too far away to be useful, but at least he was wearing his leg brace, a small favor but Stretch would take it.

Edge looked over his shoulder the second the door opened, no pretending not to hear it so Stretch could ‘sneak’ up on him, not today. “You’re finally up.”

His voice was always on the rough side and that gravely timbre always sent a tingly thrill up Stretch’s spine. Today it was rougher than normal, brambles and thorns hiding velvet underneath.

“mostly.” And he wasn’t going to complain about Edge being gone when he woke up, he wasn’t, nope, not even a little— “couldn’t sleep in even a little, babe? i stay tucked in a few hours late and you had to get down here to get your betty crocker on.”

It sounded more accusatory than he’d meant. A strange expression crossed Edge’s face, almost wounded, and that went a long way towards soothing his own lingering hurt. Stretch was already regretting opening his stupid mouth when Edge said, “Love, you’ve been sleeping more than a few hours. You slept around the clock, it’s Wednesday.”

Wednesday. It’d been ass o’clock in the morning on Tuesday when he’d gone to bed, no wonder he was so fucking hungry.

“oh, shit, really?” Stretch blurted, his stupid mouth wasn’t done having its way, “haven’t done that since i don’t even know. guess i can’t blame you for not hanging around in bed.”

“You can, but I hope I can be quickly forgiven.” Edge stripped off his apron, tossing it carelessly on the counter and ignoring as it fell instead to the floor as he stepped around the kitchen island to gather Stretch into his arms. Yeah, okay, Stretch was a dick for ass-of-u-and-me-ing that Edge ditched him to hit up the cookbooks, but he was still going to take advantage of every hug Edge wanted to give him. He buried his face into Edge’s clavicle, breathing in the smell of his soap, the spiciness of his magic, hyperaware that he probably stank of old sweat and too much sleep. Edge didn’t seem to mind; his arms were strong around him, and Stretch couldn’t hold back a small, contented little sound as the embrace he’d been craving since he first woke up finally became a reality.

Edge made a sound of his own, low and soothing, then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“i’m not sure,” Stretch admitted. Too much had happened and most of it not yet properly assimilated. Mostly what he felt was still tired, the sticky brain-fog surrounding him that came with simultaneously too much and not enough sleep.

Edge nodded, his pointy chin digging lightly into the top of Stretch’s skull. "That’s fair.” He hesitated, then added, softer, “Love, my brother wanted to see you as soon as you were awake."

That made his soul clench in his chest, his gnawing hunger fading. There was no putting it off, Stretch knew that, no room for negotiations when it came to giving out the details to Embassy Security. Wanted was a polite euphemism for needed and right now. He was lucky to have gotten off as long as he could, luckier still that Red would probably talk to him here rather than dragging him downtown, and still, there was a half-hearted urge to flee, to hide somewhere until they gave up and let him start working on forgetting that it ever happened.

Stretch shoved that urge down hard, until it was only a distant echo. If there was one thing therapy taught him, it was that eventually you’d have to face things if you wanted to get over it, and it was a hell of a lot better when it was on your own terms rather than having the ghouls tumble out of mental closets to haunt your dreams at night.

"yeah, okay,” Stretch said determinedly, “go ahead and call him."

Edge drew back enough to look at him, his deep crimson of his eye lights searching over Stretch’s face and that glance in the mirror earlier made Stretch pretty sure of what he was seeing. He wondered if Edge was contemplating a little fleeing of his own, maybe a gentler version of kidnapping where he hid Stretch away from the world until he was ready to let him loose again. Whatever it was he saw, it wasn’t enough for him to lean into spousal abduction. Edge only nodded a little, accepting, reaching up to cup Stretch’s face between his hands as he took a suspiciously tender kiss.

"Call him?" Edge said when he drew back, faintly amused. "I was simply warning you that he'll likely be here soon."

He'd barely finished the sentence before there was a staccato rap on the front door.

Okay, yeah, time to face the music, not literally and wasn’t that a shame because Red wasn’t a half-bad singer, a little armchair karaoke might make this more bearable. Stretch wriggled loose and was halfway to the door before Edge could limp his way out of the kitchen, yanking it open without looking through the peephole.

Red was standing on the other side of it, hulking on their front porch and only slightly livelier than a typical gargoyle. Him knocking at all was unusual, even wrong. Red tended to announce himself by bursting through the front door and even almost catching them a couple times in flagrante del-dick-to hadn’t slowed him down. There was certain unmistakable caution in the hunch of his shoulders this time, his hands tucked unthreateningly into his pockets as if Red was unsure of his welcome and all Stretch could feel was a weary sort of grief.

As if he didn’t know Red, long before all this, knew him way down deep to the bone. Nothing the Judge showed him in that brief glance was anything like a surprise.

The Judge. Yeah, he didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t run away from it, either, not anymore than the assholes last night could.

It’d been years but apparently being a Judge was like riding a really fucked-up bike; you never really forgot no matter how much you tried. The heat of it in your soul, not like the volcanic burn of LV, no, this was an unfathomably icy fire that surged and flowed through to chill every limb, every bone, churning its way upward into your frostbitten skull to force its way out through your eye socket as it filled you…him. Filled him with unbearable knowledge that he’d never wanted and an overwhelming, endless power that he despised using.

For the briefest of seconds in that warehouse, he’d been ready to let it loose, to let the Judgment come boiling out like it had so many times before. Until Jeff stopped him. Reeled him back in with a single word.

Don’t.

(Jeff’s sins, such innocent little transgressions; stealing a piece of candy from a store as a child, lying to parents who would only use the truth against him. Filled with the soft green glow of a compassionate soul, filled with gentle kindness. No judgement.)

Then it was like trying to stuff all-mighty toothpaste back into an otherworldly tube and the flash-bang of seeing Red as he came up the stairs hadn’t helped.

(red didn’t kill that man, no, only persuaded him to do it himself, don’t gotta make it look like a suicide if it already is, saves time, evil fuck threatened red’s whole family, his entire life, and red talked to him quietly for hours, watched the tears and snot run down his face pitilessly as his own Judge recited a horrifying list of sins that did not start with that attack on the bus)

Stretch blinked that memory away and looked down into Red’s eye lights, a subtle shade deeper crimson than Edge’s, and remembered Red calling him brother.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that Red was the one who kept Edge from losing his everfucking mind and tearing the town apart looking for him, the same way Papyrus must've kept Blue in check. Stretch wasn’t entirely stupid, was, in fact, a genius and he had the damn paperwork to prove it. He’d sent his one shot at a message to Red, trusting him to not only be the one to save them, but to get the dark side of the joke from the song he’d chosen to play.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that Red had laughed.

Hell, in some ways he knew Red better than he knew himself, but since he did know himself pretty damn well, Stretch made a point of acting like it. He left the door open and went to plop down in the sofa, propped his bony feet in Edge’s socks up in the coffee table, and said, “couldn’t let us sleep for another hour, asshole?”

The fractional easing of tension in Red’s shoulders was blink-and-you’d-miss-it quick, so it was a good thing skeletons didn’t really need to blink. He sauntered into the house with his usual big dick energy and kicked the door shut, ignoring Edge’s outraged hiss as he said laconically, “we need to talk some, honey bun.”

Stretch only nodded. “figured. have a seat and i’ll give you the whole novel, from the start to the footnotes.” Edge was still standing close to the kitchen door, leaning on his cane heavier than normal and clearly torn between staying and giving them privacy if Stretch asked for it. Heh, as if. “hey, babe, knock knock.”

Edge let out a perfunctory sigh as he said, flatly obedient, “Who’s there?”

“water

“Water who?”

Stretch grinned and slid an arm along the sofa back in invitation. “water you waiting for, come over here and hold me.”

The struggle to hide exasperated humor was eclipsed by a fierce solemness and Edge was next to him on the sofa in an instant, settling Stretch into a gentle embrace. The hugs he’d been missing this morning were coming back tenfold and if Stretch closed his sockets, he could feel the trembling desperation in Edge’s touch, his grip so tight the bones under it ached, and how the hell had he kept from flinging himself at Stretch the second he came into the kitchen?

He’d been waiting for Stretch to come to him, Stretch realized, not wanting to overwhelm him or slather him in the sort of manic overprotectiveness he usually balked at. The swell of his love for his husband nearly choked him, filling his soul to bursting, and he snuggled in, basking in his warmth, his scent, the purity of his adoration.

The silence dragged on without even a disgusted groan or a cleared throat, and when Stretch slit open his sockets to have a look, he found Red watching them, an unreadable expression on his unusually somber face.

Stretch patted the sofa cushion on his other side, “hey, you, come here?”

Red actually took a step back, his sockets going wide, as if Stretch had offered him a nice, firm slap on the ass instead of a seat, except he might have accepted that, if only to be an asshole. For a second, Stretch wondered if he’d shortcut out, fleeing from the subtle threat of affection and maybe sending Sans back to take Stretch’s statement instead.

Better not to wait for him to try and Stretch reached deep down inside for a little coaxing, the same way he’d forced himself to reach out months ago to a tiny kitten hiding in the bushes at the bus stop despite the unreasonably terrified thundering pulse of his soul. “c’mon, you can record over here, i know you’re gonna.” There was another beat of fraught silence before Stretch added, quietly, “please?”

That blank face twisted, emotions running beneath it too quickly to parse as Red scrubbed a hand over his skull and muttered aloud, “ah, fuck, honey bun.”

His boots managed to thump loudly as he stomped over despite the carpeted floor and the rough, exasperated sound from Red as he flung himself on the sofa sounded a hell of a lot like winning. Stretch hauled him in against his other side, ignoring his snarls and flailing, tucking him in comfortably despite him stiffening like a corpse. Minutes ticked by as Red reluctantly relaxed, all the surprising weight of his small frame leaning into Stretch.

Edge said nothing, only shifted his hand minutely until his knuckles were pressed tight to Red’s upper arm.

Yeah, this was what Stretch wanted, no, needed. Caged in on both sides by the people he trusted to keep him safe, trusted with his very soul, and Stretch took a long slow breath, letting it out slowly as he braced himself to dive into his unpleasant, perfect memory of the night. “okay. i’m ready.”

Next to him, Red shifted and Stretch waited for the click of the recorder before he began, the words rising in him like the tide as he sank under the surface into memory.

“so, andy and i were supposed to be checking out bands for that big embassy party ass-gore is throwing—"

tbc

➼ chongyun || hiraeth

tw: mention of knives (no violence), kidnapping, explosion _______

you angled your camera to catch your face and upper body correctly and adjusted your blinds for the correct lighting. you put thin pieces of yellow and pink paper over your lamp to give off a sunset lighting sort of aesthetic in your minimalist room. your tiny cacao tree sat in the corner of your room, setting some sort of simple beach vibe.

then, you began to stream.

you watched as majority of your followers came to view as you sat in your rolly gaming chair. the greetings came rushing in and you noticed two of your friends had came along too, xingqiu and chongyun.

"hey gang, it's kingexplosionmurder here with your weekly sunday stream," you smiled and watched as comments came in asking you to notice them. beginning to select randomly, you flicked a short strand of hair behind your ear. "you have been noticed, yourlocalsugardaddy," you blessed them. and you swore you chose randomly.

on the other side of the screen, chongyun's face slightly flushed before eating his popsicle again. yes, that was his username, selected by xingqiu after the guhua heir was somehow able to trick him into selecting so. the situation must've been that he accidentally consumed some jueyun chili's, that was also xingqiu's doing.

he watched you smile as you explained your schedule for this stream, when he noticed you suddenly began laughing. it sounded genuine, he wanted to believe it was genuine, but there was a trace of disappointment in it. he observed your face, noticing you were looking at the chat box. "i agree too, scarymoose."

scarymoose: this streamer's kinda dog shit ngl 😐

by instinct, his fingers grazed over the keyboard as he analyzed the tone. this kid wasn't joking around with himself, he was really out to bring you down. he exhaled, shaking his head, wondering how you would deal in the situation.

yourlocalsugardaddy: miss karen this isn't yelp 🙄

he wasn't content with that yet, things could've gone onto more serious matters, but he knew you liked to keep your chat clean and peaceful. you went to the farther extents to keep that from happening, agreeing with rude comments yourself as a said joke, but actually have it sometimes harming you.

so chongyun tried his best to keep you happy.

redrumreaper: yo moose chill 😳

he recognized his friend xingqiu also trying to calm the situation as you just laughed it off and attempted to continue, sooner enough just beginning to ignore all his comments. some other viewers came up to your defense but in all honesty, you wanted to move on.

"s-so, i found some silk flowers outside of wangshuu inn yesterday, aren't they pretty?" you took a tiny bouquet of the said silk flowers and presented it to your viewers, holding it next to your cheek. the pink tone of the flowers matched the color of your cheeks and made for a nice picture. chongyun would've screenshotted it, but he respected your privacy.

yourlocaldumba$$: yes they're so pretty we love you 😍

13lue13erry: yes ong ong 💕 thiccer than my granny

Straw13erry: don't bring madame ping into this 💀💀

colino: are you sure it's alright to take from someone's legally owned property ?? much less from their garden

Straw13erry: u mean ur neighbors don't harvest ur flowers every day? 🙄 privilege spoke 🤚

yourlocalsugardaddy: vv pretty 😳

redrumreaper: simp 💀

you slightly choked over on your side and xingqiu calling chongyun a simp, for you. quickly clearing your throat, you regained your composure. your viewers could see that your cheeks had been dusted with a darker shade now.

13lue13erry: 👀

Straw13erry: 👀

yourlocaldumba$$: 👀

redrumreaper: 👀

sireluck: 💀

bazinga: 👀

dandelionn: 👀

poetichoe: 👀

"okay- anyways," you pushed that aside, watching the chain of 👀's coming in. you weren't too sure at what they were referring to, but just assumed that they were interested in xingqiu exposing chongyun. but, there was no way chongyun really felt like that, right? it was just a friendly compliment from what you believed. "just a tiny flex but y'all guys, i am so cracked at apex, not gonna lie. for all the new followers out there," you randomly commented. 'and to change the subject.'

"actually, you know what? fuck the schedule, let's go to trolling little eight year old kids posting selfies on instagram. due to certain reasons i'm just not gonna be blurring their usernames out, but please don't spam these people, i don't wanna be cancelled 💗" you sweetly smiled as you pulled up instagram and started streaming on your phone.

of course your sus notifications ruined it 🤡🤡

because xingqiu took advantage of the situation, sending messages to your discord. nothing mentioning your romantic life because he knew better than that, but just trolling. 'HEY GANG. ITS ME, TONY, AND TODAY WE'RE GONNA SEE IF IM FASTER THAN THIS MOUSE TRAP.' 'TURNS OUT, I AM NOT FASTER THAN THIS MOUSE TRAP.' 'AN UPDATE, IT HURTS. ALRIGHT. BYE GUYS.' you tried hard to contain your laughter, but certain giggles came out in the end, giggles that made chongyun's heart flutter.

xingqiu just kept spamming without a stop, to the point that you accidentally clicked into the notification instead of someone's username on a selfie post. so now everyone could see your group chat with xingqiu, chongyun, and a few other viewers that were actually your other friends.

13lue13erry: oh no 🤡

Straw13erry: 🗿

yourlocaldumba$$: HAHAHAHA WE'RE EXPOSED 🤡👌

just water support boy 😔: image.png

oh my god he's sending chongyun catboy edits. you made this concerning noise, glad no one really seemed to know who chongyun really was on twitch. you went back to instagram, beginning to dm a random kid, ignoring the situation that had just happened.

chongyun choked, slight heat running to his cheeks. what the fuck was xingqiu doing- how did he even get those pictures? maybe it was that one time xingqiu forced him to go to a furry con, but how did he ever get the time to photograph these? he nervously fidgeted and played with his fingers.

13lue13erry: 🤡

Straw13erry: 🤡

yourlocaldumba$$: 🤡

redrumreaper: 🤡

<— oraoraoraor

kingexplosionmurder: chav check

oraoraoraor: what

kingexplosionmurder: chav: check 😹😹

oraoraoraor: bruh

oraoraoraor: who tf are you

kingexplosionmurder: hope you like baddies cause i'm bad at everything 💗

oraoraoraor: bruh ok i'm blocking

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

oraoraoraor: 😐

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

oraoraoraor: wtf

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

oraoraoraor: wait wait UR that one twitch streamer?

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

oraoraoraor: ig ur fans gonna be so disappointed in you

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

oraoraoraor: hahaha wtf i'm gonna post this and tag you

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

afterwards you sent a barrage of really cursed images and left the person on read when they tried to complain and get a reaction out of you. you chuckled, extremely satisfied with yourself. this is what your viewers followed you for. you went on hunting for another user, "GO Y/N GO" filling up your chat.

you were just about to dm this other kid until you heard a ring from your doorbell. "oh what the fuck, i didn't invite anyone. but you know what, i'll pull something up to entertain y'all guys while i'm afk." searching on youtube, you typed in 'banana fish ep. 1' and clicked on the longest video you saw. then you got up from your chair, making your way to the front door.

you didn't mute yourself before because you thought there was really no need to, and you underestimated your mic sensitivity. god did you wish that you could go back and time and do just that.

twisting the doorknob, you opened your door and was met with... a certain, someone.

someone that you recognized and has caused you so much pain, and it was all so fun and games before they had to come along. "bruh. aight what you here for fam?" you played it super chill, though you were really sick and tired of this person's shit.

"(y/n). we need to talk," her stern voice made you flinch as you just stared straight into her eyes. you simply nodded your head and crossed your arms, shifting your weight onto your right leg. "we're thinking of taking you back home."

your froze, your breath hitching as you just stood there, waiting for her to go on. clenching your fists and looking down, you stayed silent for a little moment and questioned, "...why?"

"well, you have a stable income source, right?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. "you can finally be of use to us," she clasped her hands together, a bright smile on her face. your finger twitched, awaiting an explanation. "you're a streamer, yeah? so you can be a useful asset to our family name."

"...you only want me to come back so i can make you all seem... good?"

and here you thought, just for a second, that you would be accepted back into the place where you really belonged. your shoulders slumped, as small tears began to well up in your eyes. "and for our profitable gain of course, it would be a shame to not acquire that from you."

you composed yourself and looked up. "im afraid my profit can only cover for one person, and it would be myself that i focus to make a suitable and independent living out of. you've kicked me out ever since i've graduated from college and had me fend for myself, now inviting me back once i have a stable job?" you breathed, fiddling with the sleeves of your black hoodie.

"oh, not inviting, dear. taking."

confused by her words, you let your guard down as she suddenly pushed a warm cloth over your mouth as you let out a constrained scream. you tried to break free of her grasp, reaching for the switchblade in your pocket, but the drowsing chemicals from the cloth took control of you and you felt disoriented. "you... bitch..."

your head hit the floor.

》●✿ time ● skip ✿●

silence.

thats all you heard when you awoke.

pure, unfiltered silence that overwhelmed you as you were completely lost. what was happening?

you tried turning to the other side of your childhood bed, the moon casting light shadows into your 'room'. there was a rope around your wrists you noticed, so you brought them up to your lips and starting gnawing on them until it broke apart. (guys we feral its not a furry instinct ok?/ ??  ?)

the material had irritated your skin, but you put that aside for now. escape- thats what you really needed to do. it was fairly dark, but you didn't have a good estimate of time. the analog clock was broken and set to a different time that displayed 11AM. you sat up, your fingers running along the frame of the window next to you.

for a moment, you stopped, thoughts rushing into your head. what if you could start a whole other life here where things could finally be peaceful, what if you didn't have to feel so isolated anymore, what if you could- ...

no. (y/n), get yourself together. what has happened will anyways stay there, and there is no healing scars. ...still, you couldn't shake off the feeling of missing this home so much when you had an amazing childhood, though full of fake actors who had manipulated you.

opening all the cabinets silently, you grabbed things that you assumed would come to your aid. a tiny backpack, which you then stuffed with other things around it. a first aid kit, a spare knife just in case, along with a clean oversized sweater and a couple dollar bills. all that, along with a compass.

you turned towards your window, stepping on your bed.

pushing open the sides of your window, your stepped on, the brown coldness of the frame coming in contact with your feet. you shivered just a little bit before stopping to think. what would you do once you were out of here? you barely knew your way here. and not to mention, your devices were still left at your other house, so there was no way of contact.

...

did your stream ever end? even if it did, had you muted yourself before leaving? no, you didn't, and you could remember in precise detail. someone out there, anyone, would be willing to help, right? you couldn't possibly be here forever, not when you're basically blown up all over your socials?

your friends, yes, your friends! xingqiu and chongyun were watching the stream and had made obvious interaction in doing so, and they'd be willing to protect you. if they just had a lead...

but... what lead was there? all they heard was the woman's voice and, that was probably it, wasn't it? only a voice with no other clear features that could identify her. it looked like you were doing this on your own.

you came in contact with the blades of grass tickling your feet and conveniently found a pair of sneakers outside. it definitely wasn't yours, and it smelled like the scent of your old room. most likely, it belonged to someone from inside your house, lavender and mint, but who inside there was in the age range to wear modern day sneakers..?

brushing that question aside, you unhesitatingly laced them on and they were just a bit too big, but you could manage.

you breathed, inhaling the freedom intertwined air, a much needed factor of bringing you back to your lost sense of happiness. then, the fear struck you once again, because you needed to improvise now. you needed to run, but which direction? you barely knew this place at all.

you dug around your pocket for the compass you had and it was pointing east. you remember that stepping out of your house was facing west, so you were going the right way... but who knows how messy the path was? it couldn't have been an exact pathway, but going directly ahead was your simplest option.

you heard a pair of footsteps coming from inside the house, probably a few seconds away to opening the door. you sucked in your breath and ran, ran as far as your legs could take you. your intimidating speed and played into your advantage, and taking one last look, you saw the lights on, before continuing.

a few minutes into it, you felt some elemental energy. it was a sense you learned to develop since you were young, giving you the upper hand in a variety of situations. you followed the trail of glowing lines, the air starting to get colder and colder. you shuddered, the crisp coldness nipping at your skin.

you sat below a tree, taking your backpack off your shoulder and took out the oversized sweater. you put it on over your black tee and light blue skinny jeans, its nostalgic aroma filling your sense of smell.

it was... warm.

it shouldn't be warm.

the warmth proved as a sign that someone had worn it before, but this size was from what you knew, too small to fit the woman you came across again, and you absolutely did not recall any other beings within the house. it was a small household.

suddenly, you remembered what she said.

we're thinking of taking you back home. you can finally be of use to us.

plural. you should've noticed it before and you shook your head, slightly disappointed in yourself. you didn't remember any other birth siblings. could it be the fact that during the time, they had, in a way, replaced you?

you sat up, then suddenly went drowsy. your eyelids were getting heavy as your back hit the same tree. ah, that clever bitch. you chuckled to yourself, but still unsatisfied how this was gonna end. reaching inside your pocket, you grabbed a bomb that a little kid gave you, and threw it as far as you could. it wasn't as far as you hoped, but it was exceptionally far considered your sleepy state.

in a few couple seconds or so, it was going to explode. you did that to divert the attention of her and slowly ran as far as you could. a few seconds in, you gave in, hoping that your efforts were enough. 》●✿ perspective ● shift ✿●

chongyun heard an explosion.

he raised his head in the direction smoke was coming from, and made a run for it, then stopping to think. no, you're smarter than this. he gathered his shit together and remembered that one day klee gave you a bomb. he deducted that you had used it as a diversion, and began to search around the area.

and finally, he came across your sleeping body. to ensure your living state, he crouched down and let two fingers travel across your neck, searching for a pulse, and was relieved when he found one, pulsing at a normal rate.

he then carried you on his back, picking up the pace since he deducted someone was out for you, would you need a distraction. he remembered some details of the woman, she had ended your stream with your sleeping form in her hands, a dirty smirk coming across her lips. she had dark hair with some natural highlights, but that was all he saw because the rest was concealed by a cloak.

a few minutes, maybe half an hour later, you began to stir. chongyun decided that he ventured far enough to liyue and slowed down for your comfort. he wanted you to get some well deserved rest. but slowly, you woke up, but only the tiniest movement was made. your eyes were still droopy and you wanted to return to sleep.

but the sight of pastel blue hair kept you from doing so.

you felt the familiar silk coming in contact with your arms as he kept on trudging forward at a more consistent and smooth pace. "..chongyun?" you muttered out weakly, earning a small smile from the male. he hummed in response, continuing forward.

your mind was cloudy, unable to interpret the language of the world. but softly, words effortlessly escaped your lips, "... did i do the right... thing?" blinking multiple times, you awaited his answer.

"yes, yes you did," his soft voice reached your ears, making you smile a bit. you nuzzled deeper into his shoulder, clinging onto him tighter, unwilling to let go.

"thank you," you whispered.

he chuckled a bit before responding, "anything for you."

_____

bro ending is a little off because i'm wrote this at 2:53AM and so my brain has went ⬇️⬇️ also i'm just hungry

copy and pasted from my wattpad,, @ppeachtea_

Peachtea/TripSun angst idea. Nobody knew Wukong would disappear for 500 years so they're mourning until Xiaotian starts training with him. Tang composes himself to wait a little longer but Wukong just ignores all the signs. Until he gets into an argument with Tang and Tang ends up snapping "Why did you disappear for 500 years?!"

Okay so here’s the thing, I can only get behind the whole ‘The other Pilgrims ALL thought Wukong was dead and are PISSED at him now’ stuff, only, and I mean ONLY if Wukong either thought they all didn’t want to hear from him again anyway, or if he thought they were dead too.

....I mean my only contributions to all those ‘Reunion with Baije and Wujing’ posts were both ‘Wukong thought they were dead too’ so CLEARLY thats my read on the whole thing. I sincerely can’t see him just... NOT telling people he cared that much about that he was gonna bounce for that long to be alone on FFM, so if he knew they were alive he would have told them. 

And then you know someone spotted that little shrine with the origami figures in the Special and I was there like:

 So like, lets do something we’ll both enjoy here then because all of those reunion fics are almost exclusively centered around the trio, and we oh so rarely see Sanzang (whether he is Tang or not) get involved. 

So like first off, assuming LMK is on a sci fi alternate earth instead of being in the future, there’s still a solid nine hundred or so years between the end of the Pilgrimage and the supposed time Wukong disappeared for Monkie Kid timeline (JTTW is set in like the 600s or so if i remember correctly, might be wrong about the exacts tho) so lets assume those nine hundred years were uneventful.

So yeah, idk the hows, the hows don’t matter. What DOES matter is Wukong somehow loses contact with the others and is somehow convinced they were all killed, had his last stand against DBK and then went off travelling for a century to come to terms with his brothers and his precious, darling, beloved Master all perishing due to his inability to protect them.

and meanwhile for the others he was just... GONE. Like he’d vanished off the face of the earth, And the last the three of them ever saw of him was the staff rooted into the mountain that now kept the Bull King below. Just in case maybe the tree of them would periodically head off to Flower Fruit Mountain and check in with the monkeys that could still talk, but after about a century it was clear. If he WAS still alive, he wasn’t coming back. And the idea that he’d purposefully leave all of them behind just for the hope that he WAS still alive would do his memory a disservice. 

So when Wukong returns to FFM wouldn’t it be great if he like, JUST missed that last visit? Like DAYS after Sanzang, Baije and Wujing had been there for the final time to hold an impromptu funeral for their dead friend on his homeland and finally accept that he was gone, Wukong returns to the mountain and builds his little shrine for his dead friends... the Monkeys all look at eachother awkwardly and shrug, assuming this will be settled soon enough, surely it’ll be solved before too long.

And then another 400 years of kingly depression naps and the others falling in and out of contact with eachother as they adapt to the ever changing world around them later, Xiaotian snatches the staff from the bull family.

And... Look... It’s been a ROUGH 500 years on Sanzang now called simply Tang. He’d only recently tracked down Baije-now-called-Pigsy in the past... what Ten years? and was only tangentially aware of what Wujing-now-called-Sandy was up to. And... Look... LOOK. It’s ridiculous that he’s still hung up over losing Wukong as much as he is. He’s Well FUCKING aware it’s ridiculous. He should know better, he quite LITERALLY reached immortality through enlightenment. He KNOWS he should know better. 

So why-... Why can’t he say his real name without his gut still twisting into knots? He still tells the stories because telling them behind a wall of detachment, pretending he wasn’t there on the action for most of them helps in some small way, but why does he have to always call him ‘the Monkey King’? What a question, he knows why. He gave his heart away when he was still mortal, and so mortal his heart will forever stay. Dead and returned to the stone with the impulsive monkey he’d given it to.

And then It’s not dead. Because he’s not dead. and honestly at first it’s just shock, it’s just reeling with the sheer tidal wave of feelings he had to spend hours meditating just to sort through. The three of them meet up after Xiaotian and Xiaojiao have turned in for the night to discuss what the FUCK just happened, and all three of them come away with different conclusions. 

Baije is furious and will refuse to seek out Wukong unless its to tell him off for letting the three of them belive him dead, Wujing is sad and would like to see Wukong again to simply ask why he’d decided to cut the three of them out of his life like that, but doesn’t want to do it alone. And he’s...conflicted.

He wants this to be a joyous discovery. he wants to be so relieved and euphoric at his monkey still being there, having ALWAYS been there, that he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for days on end. But he can’t. It’s all so... messy inside and he’s going to need to keep his distance if he wants to be able to approach Wukong with a level head. This was why attachments such as these were foolish he should have known better all those years ago but it was centuries too late now, and this confliction is what he has to suffer through as the result... wanting to laugh and cry and scream all at once because Wukong is ALIVE, he’d spent SO long in mourning for him, and HOW DARE HE ignore them all and let them assume the worst?!

So he hides behind that Scholar Tang persona while he sorts through his emotions. And it works for the most part. 

And then New Years happens.

And... Look, Wukong’s been THROUGH it in the last 500 years. He’s done everything he could to just... GET OVER the loss of his love His Master and His brothers. he went through all the damn stages of grief, 

Spent that first decade in denial poking around everywhere he could to see if any of them-ANY of them were in hiding somewhere, spent another three decades wandering the world and starting fights with other cultures divine warriors (and that Aphrodite chick was DEFINITELY hitting on him the entire time, extolling about how rarely she got to use her ‘Aria form’ whatever that meant) to work through his rage without actually getting himself in trouble with his own heavenly court. Spent another twenty years or so looking through as many underworlds as he could find, no matter how many of them really wanted to test just HOW immortal he was (Answer: Too Immortal for any of them) to see if ANYONE had anything he could work with, and always coming up empty. eventually crossed the ocean to the other landmass because he was tired of looking at all of these places and seeing either memories or wasted time looking for bargaining chips, and spent a decade or so deciding he hated Mexico and went back to China. and then spent another thirty years just procrastinating returning home to his mountain.

When he returns to flower fruit mountain its as though he’d never left. His monkeys greet him with excitement but he’s standing on the shores of his home he hasn’t seen in a century and... feels nothing. Like his ability to feel anything for anything beyond the people he’s lost is gone. He makes a little shrine that spends most of its time on a shelf that's difficult to be able to look at full on without craning your neck weirdly and if any of his subjects notice that he takes a bit too much care in folding the little paper figure of the monk as he sets the four figures up along the edge of the little thing none of them judge him over it. He’s rarely got the energy for tears anymore, but when he does it’s usually when that little figure catches his eye.

By the time Xiaotian crashes into his life he’s... getting better. At least he thinks he is. having the loud excitable boy in his life is helping chase the shadows away a little bit (though when they return oh how they scream) and he hears some stories of his friends on training days and... geez sometimes he’ll tell this or that story and Wukong will be so THOUROUGHLY reminded of someone that it just... hurts.

And then New Years happens.

And he finally sees him again -- And he finally meets Xiaotian’s friends

And he still doesn’t know how to feel it’s all SO MUCH -- And they feel familiar so he gives them all a quick glance with golden eyes

And he can only do the one thing that feels safe right now -- And oh... that makes sense. How lucky they all found eachother again after reincarnating.

Sanzang hides behind the Tang persona and lies with an energy that could only be harvested from the sheer maelstrom of emotions fighting for dominance -- and Wukong leaves before he says something incriminating because now he knows and he can’t Un-know.

He should have known better but its centuries too late. And it doesn’t even matter that he doesn’t know how to feel about this whole thing he HAS to keep seeing him, he can NOT let him vanish again -- This was a mistake, this was a mistake, he cannot face them all and see lack of recognition, he cannot have his brothers treating him only as Xiaotian’s mentor he can NOT handle looking at him and seeing a stranger.

He needs to at least TALK to him -- He can’t stay away

Wukong doesn’t start out hanging out at the Noodle Shop on down time, that’d be too much too quick, especially since Baije-.. Since Pigsy is clearly still pretty steamed for the whole ‘letting Xiaotian into the world of magic and monsters’ stuff. But he’ll often shapeshift and keep an eye on things like that... No he is NOT eavesdropping on the reincarnations of those three out of the ridiculous desperate desire to feel close to them again. Because he’d rather just love him miss them from afar than be treated as a stranger.

But of course Tang notices when he does. Every time. And every time he wants to say something but his throat feels too tight. That first day he’d fallen on the persona because it was all he felt he COULD do but now the very idea that he’d have to pretend to be someone else just to be able to speak to his monkey not his not anymore Him was completely out of the question. Tang’s actually surprised with himself the first time he finds his voice. 

The conversations come quickly, neither of them quite content to ignore the other now that its become obvious. The conversations are mostly stilted, awkward. Wukong seems both unable to help himself from talking to him, but unwilling to LOOK at him. Tang’s best guess is that he somehow doesn’t recognize him, Had he really changed that much in the time they’d been apart? Had he really lost so much affection for his old master that he could no longer recognize him beneath a slight change in appearance? That might be the reason the Hurt finally starts to win in the eternal standoff between Joy and Sorrow in how this whole thing makes him feel. 

And maybe it’s something simple, maybe Wukong is just barely starting to lower his guard a bit. Maybe just sharing a space with the man who once was the love of his life his master was finally starting to chalk over the rough edges his long since broken heart would constantly stab into him with. and he just SAYS something. Something probably innocuous, something he’d said a million times on the Journey alone. And to Tang it just... feels like he’s mocking him, like he’d known this whole time and had just been playing with his emotions in a way he wouldn’t have tolerated back then- so why should he tolerate it now?

 And the first words out of his own mouth are “Bad Monkey!” and Wukong freezes as Tang begins to lecture him

How he’d spent a solid third of his time immortal in mourning over him, how he’d been the one to tell Baije and Wujing that it would be a disgrace to his memory to believe him alive and instead that he’d chosen to cut the lot of them out of his life, despite how much HE’D wanted to believe it too. How hurt he was to find out that not only he HAD been ignoring them for so long but also that he’d apparently had apparently not even recognized any of them when they HAD all seen each other again! How much he’d missed him, how happy he’d still been to see him again. 

Yes, yes, pathetic, emotional baldy always bursting into tears at the simplest of things nothing’s changed etcetera etcetera- He hadn’t been lying on new years when he said he had a million questions, but all he really wanted to know was why? Why did he cut them out of his life, why did he shut HIM out? Why did you disappear for 500 years Wukong?

And Wukong reaches out, his hand is- shaking? and removes the glasses from right off his face--normal glass obviously, Baije had insisted they completed the scholarly look and annoyed him into compliance--

“You’re-” he hesitates, looks, almost afraid? “You’re not a reincarnation..?”

Oh... 

Well now they both looked the part of fools.

Two sobbing fools clutching to eachother in the alleyway behind Pigsy’s shop, and oh MAN did they have some things to talk about, because Wukong was DEFINITELY coming back with him to his apartment for the night and then first thing in the morning he was going to visit his brothers to internalize that THEY weren’t reincarnations either and then he was going to have to explain where he’d been for that first century while they were all still looking for him to THEM too. 

And yes he should have known better than to get attached to him in this way in the first place, it was disgraceful, the sheer misery it had brought alone was proof enough of that. But Wukong was nuzzling into his shoulder, and pressing those strange feeling monkey kisses across his cheeks and jaw,  and his breath was hitching with pure relief and joy and it was for him-

And fuck it, he just didn’t care. 

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Three)

Summary: (Y/N) and Mando track down a potential lead on the location of a Mandalorian.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Three The Fights (Previous Chapter)

While she initiated the ship’s landing sequence, (Y/N) took a moment to glance out the cockpit’s viewport and let out a low whistle. “Yep, just as seedy as I imagined it would be.” She looked over at the Mandalorian standing beside her with a brow raised in curiosity. “Have you been to this planet before?”

“Once, when I first started working with the Guild. It’s rougher than it looks, which is why we’re gonna bring the kid along with us.” The ship landed smoothly and he followed her down the ladder to the armory. “How do you think we should do this?”

(Y/N), who had begun fastening her blaster holster around her waist, glanced up in surprise; since their partnership was only a little over a week old, she hadn’t expected him to give her the opportunity to formulate a plan. Maybe this is some sort of a test, she silently reasoned, so he can see what I can and can’t do. Recovering from her shock, her eyes met the Mandalorian’s visor as she replied, “I go in first and scope the place out for Koresh, then you and the kid follow. That way if things get dicey, I’ll be there as backup and his goons won’t suspect that we’re working together.”

Mando nodded. “Good, that’s what I was thinking.” He tucked a vibro-knife into his boot before straightening and pointing at her blaster. “You any good with that?”

“Of course I am, I’m an ex-smuggler.” (Y/N) playfully retorted, tugging on one of her longer coats and checking to see if it covered her blaster before smiling despite herself. “It’s when I’m disarmed that I start having some problems; as evident in my altercation with the Black Sun, I’m not exactly the best at hand-to-hand combat.”

“Good thing you’ve got an ex-bounty hunter onboard to teach you, alor’ad.”

Rolling her eyes at his quip, (Y/N) reached into the open armory and tucked a vibro-blade into her own boot. She stood and accepted the comm link the Mandalorian held out to her, placing it in her ear and brushing her hair over to cover it up. “Okay, it looks like I’m good to go. Is there anything else I should know before going?”

“Yeah, stay on the main road and stick close to the street lamps.”

He didn’t elaborate on his statement, so she just nodded and made her way down the ship’s lowered ramp. Walking down the long stretch of road, it wasn’t long before she understood why Mando had issued his warning; glowing red eyes began appearing in the shadows on either side of the road, but it seemed as though the dim street lamps were the only things keeping the creatures away from her. Her blood ran cold at the thought and she quickened her pace, reaching the large building at the end of the road in no time.

A large Twi’lek stood in the doorway, his tightly arms crossed over his chest. As (Y/N) approached him, she kept her face impassive and empty of emotion. “I’m here to place some bets.”

The Twi’lek’s eyes scrutinized hers and after several tension-filled moments, he moved to the side and held his arm out towards the doorway. “Enjoy the fights.”

(Y/N) gave him a nod and she walked inside, taking in the exuberant crowd and their deafening cheers as they watched the two Gamorrean fighters at the center of the room. Weaving her way through the rowdy people, she stopped at the bar and ordered herself a glass of spotchka. “Excuse me, bartender, but where can I find Gor Koresh? I’d like to place a bet and I hear that he’s a hell of a gambler…”

The bartender handed her the glass and pointed across the room. “Over there.”

Thanking her, (Y/N) paid for her drink and moved to lean against the wall; the Abyssin was seated in the front row, quietly watching the fight along with four stoic men. They couldn’t be any more obvious, she thought to herself, downing her glass of spotchka before reaching up and activating her comm link. “Come in, Mando.”

“What’ve you got?”

Careful not to be spotted, (Y/N) relayed everything she’d gathered to her partner: a description of Koresh, the number of bodyguards stationed in the arena, and how heavily-armed each of them were. Not long after, she spotted the Mandalorian making his way through the crowd with the child’s pram floating alongside him. She had a clear view of the two of them from her spot by the wall, and she watched as he seated himself beside Koresh; they talked for several minutes until suddenly, Koresh shot down one of the Gamorrean fighters. The crowd scattered, hurrying to the exits as the one-eyed man and his bodyguards all pointed their blasters at Mando’s helmeted head.

(Y/N) ducked behind the nearby bar and pulled out her blaster, peeking around the corner as their voices filled the now-empty arena.

“Thank you for coming to me. Normally, I have to seek out remnants of you Mandalorians, in your hidden hives, to harvest your shiny shells. Beskar’s value continues to rise, and I’ve grown quite fond of it. Give it to me now or I will peel it off your corpse.”

The Mandalorian stayed completely still as he calmly retorted, “Tell me where the Mandalorians are and I’ll walk out of here without killing you.”

Koresh sneered. “I thought you said you weren’t a gambler.”

Raising an impressed brow, (Y/N) watched as Mando subtly flexed his wrist and activated what he’d called ‘whistling birds’ to start glowing. Her grip on her blaster tightened in anticipation as the child closed the lid of his pram and Mando finally spoke. “I’m not.”

In an instant, the whistling birds launched into the air and quickly found their targets; the four dead bodyguards fell to the ground as the Mandalorian kicked the child’s pram out of harm’s way and began fighting off the surviving Gamorrean and the Twi’lek from the entrance. (Y/N) raised her blaster and prepared to help him, but she became distracted by a group of guards hurrying across the arena in the direction of the child.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” (Y/N) muttered, firing off a shot and hitting one man in the neck. The remaining guards immediately aimed their blasters in her direction and began firing; she ducked back behind the bar and waited a moment before jumping to her feet and firing off three quick shots. All three remaining guards dropped to the ground, each having been shot clean through the heart, and the child’s pram remained in its place.

Climbing over the bar, (Y/N) hurried to the pram just in time to see Mando throw his vibro-blade and hit the last man standing directly in his chest. His helmet turned to her and they both looked over to see Koresh hurry through one of the arena’s exits; looking back at Mando, she watched as he pulled his vibro-blade out of the dead man’s chest and followed alongside the pram as he went through the same exit. Both she and the pram emerged onto the street just in time to watch Mando string Koresh up onto the street lamp by his ankles.

“All right, stop, stop! I’ll tell you where he is.” With her blaster still in hand, (Y/N) moved to stand beside Mando as Koresh continued to stammer in fear. “But you must both promise you won’t kill me.”

“I promise you will not die by my hand, or hers.” Mando slowly declared, and (Y/N) was quick to bite back her smirk. She wasn’t stupid; she’d observed just how much her explanation of Koresh’s business dealings had affected him, so it was fairly obvious what he was planning on doing with the one-eyed man. “Now, where is the Mandalorian you know of?”

“Tatooine!”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) noticed Mando stiffen. “What?”

“The Mando I know of is on Tatooine!”

“I’ve spent much time on Tatooine; I have never seen a Mandalorian there.”

Koresh continued to swing by the whipcord as he angrily replied, “My information is good, I tell you! The city of Mos Pelgo, I swear it by the Gotra!”

(Y/N) and Mando both looked away from Koresh at the same time; she shrugged a shoulder and holstered her blaster, wordlessly telling the Mandalorian that Koresh’s information was worth investigating. Mando nodded and glanced back at Koresh. “Tatooine it is, then.” They both began walking away from the one-eyed man.

“Wait, Mando! Lady! You can’t leave me like this, cut me down!”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.” Mando pulled out his blaster and shot out the street lamp, plunging that section of the road into darkness; he holstered the weapon and gestured for her to follow him as Koresh continued his shouts of protest; they were quickly joined by the growling of the creatures that approached him.

“Wait, what are you doing? Mando, I can pay! Mando…Mando!”

By the time that they reached the Razor Crest, Gor Koresh’s screams had faded into nothing and (Y/N) silently thanked the Maker; there was no denying that the one-eyed man had deserved his fate, but she would’ve preferred not to hear it happen. I’ve heard too many sounds of death in my relatively-short lifetime, she somberly thought as she took the child out of his pram and followed the Mandalorian up into the cockpit. He had already seated himself in the pilot’s seat, so she sat herself down on the seat to his right and held the cooing child in her lap; moments later, the ship rose from the ground and soon, they were traveling through hyperspace.

“Do you think I was wrong to leave Koresh for dead?”

(Y/N) looked up in surprise; his helmet was still facing forward, but she could see that his hands had tightened around the ship’s joysticks. “No. For what he did to countless Mandalorians, he deserved exactly what he got.”

“Then why did you look sickened when I did it?”

Mando’s modulated voice was gruff and accusatory. With a small sigh, (Y/N) ran a hand over the child’s wrinkled green head and hesitantly replied, “Because…when you’ve been through everything I’ve been through, and seen the things I’ve seen…even the dying words of an enemy can have some effect on you.”

The cockpit was silent for several long moments, until he turned the pilot’s seat around to face her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to relive any painful memories-”

“It’s okay, Mando. Like I said, he got what he deserved.” She flashed him a small smile before gesturing to the ship’s guidance system. “At least we have some sort of idea of where to go now; Tatooine should be nice and sunny this time of year, don’t you think?”

Mando chuckled at her terrible joke. “Very funny, alor’ad. Why don’t you get some rest while I watch the kid?” He reached over and took the child from her lap, and when she made no move to stand, he let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re not gonna get much sleep when we land on Tatooine, you know, so you should get it while you can…”

“That’s true.” Relenting, (Y/N) got up from her seat and muffled her reluctant yawn. “Wake me up if you need any help, okay?” He nodded, and she turned to exit the cockpit.

“You did good tonight, alor’ad.”

(Y/N) glanced back at Mando, who had already spun his seat back around to face forward, and the corners of her mouth raised into a smile at his compliment. “You too, Mando.” Giving him a final look, she turned and made her way down the ladder; she stored her weapons in the armory before kicking off her boots and crawling into her makeshift bed, quickly falling asleep. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the gentle rocking of the ship or the soothing presence the Mandalorian exuded, but (Y/N) couldn’t remember having a single nightmare.

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A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading and enjoying!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain

Chapter Four

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

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