#This was the second attempt at the embroidery because I fucked the first one up royal
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Belated bday bootleg FHR Herald hoodie for @gingerbreton 😘
The hood is lined with a gold butterfly knit to represent his butterfly mind shield.
Herald logo was designed by @kruk-art
#Kitbug sews things#Fhr#Herald#Daniel sullivan#I thought i was super galaxy brained for the lining lol#This was the second attempt at the embroidery because I fucked the first one up royal#Weh#Anyway#Circle easier than i thought it would be#Just need to do a chen and angie....
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Can't catch me now... pt. 2
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling xgrisha! reader
Summary: The Hunger Games in Ravka. 12 districts. 12 tributes. 12 mentors. 11 young people die every year. 1 winner. Aleksander was a mentor to many. But only your face will haunt him for centuries.
Inspired by: The Hunger Games. I changed the world of both of them a bit.
Word Count: 4,4 k
Taglist: @flostvs1508 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @aoi-targaryen @summersummoner-pat @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @msblacklupin
Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist
PART 1 ~•♤♤♤•~
"You look like death. Have you even slept an hour?" You shrug at Genya's question. The woman sighs and works on your face to make you presentable. "The general was furious. He's a good man, despite everything they say about him. You have to understand that... he didn't expect this turn of events, and his stoic attitude was violated. I swear, this is the second time I've seen him lose his cool. And I've been here since I was a child."
"When was the first time?" You ask curiously, not believing her for a moment. You couldn't trust anyone here. You could only count on yourself and no one else. You missed Alina a lot.
"I will tell you this with a complete twist. Anyway, if someone asks, you didn't know it from me. 40 years ago, in the Hunger Games, the General was... asked to be a mentor. Her name was Luda. She was brave and beautiful, with a good heart and a pure soul. She was a healer in her village. She volunteered. In exchange for her younger sister."
"And what happened? He scared her with his shadows because she was a vegetarian and didn't want to eat meat to get stronger?" You mock, as she is making final amendments to your look.
"She died." An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Genya was blindly combing your hair, obviously thinking about her. You could see from the look in her eyes that she must have been especially close to this tribute. "She was... close to the general. He had been mourning her death for a very long time. And I don't want to spread rumours, but the tribute who killed her and won the Hunger Games was found hanging in the forest near his home village. His family was soon convicted of conspiring against the crown and hanged in a more… spectacular way."
"I feel like you're not telling me this just to satisfy my curiosity." You guess as she finally pulls away from you.
You don't know what's worse, when she fixes your face with her strange power or when she looks at you intently, looking for something else to improve your appearance. You weren't used to caring THAT much about yourself. Because who would want to look at an orphan?
"I just want to warn you that… our choices don't necessarily affect only us." You roll your eyes at her attempt at intimidation. Of course. He couldn't make you do anything himself, so he sent his minions to convince you. Quite pathetic, like for the terrible Darkling, who everyone feared.
"I am an orphan. There's nothing he can take from me. I... I have nothing left to lose or to care about..." You say it quietly, rubbing your wrist with your hand. You try hard not to think about Alina and Mal. Your only family... all you have left after those you lost.
"And your life?"
"We're all going to die someday, Genya." Your soft whisper seals the uncomfortable silence.
You think about your parents and siblings—everyone you lost—and the life you could have had that fate ripped from you before you learned how to fight for yourself. You lost everything as a child. There's nothing left for you. At least nothing good.
"Here. You look amazing. There is only one thing missing." She says this with a smile and takes out a long, black coat with black and white embroidery from the closet. It's a kefta. A fucking kefta.
"What the hell is that?" You ask angrily, standing up from your chair and looking at the piece of clothing in utter disgust.
"The general ordered it especially for you. You are a Grisha. You are one of us, and you should present yourself as such." She says this and puts the kefta on the chair.
You walk up to it and run your hand over the material. You expected something rough—just like the general's character—and uncomfortable to wear, since the keftas protected Grisha from every blade and bullet, but this... was nothing like armor. It was soft and cozy. Like velvet. Nothing you may have experienced in your district.
"Black? Isn't that his colour?" You ask, trying to reassure yourself of how terrible this damn thing is.
"Merzost is closely associated with the Darkling bloodline in our culture, since he used it to create the fold. Consider it a… coincidental coincidence." You snort when you hear her explanation. If anything, it was a sign of belonging. The general's new toy. Freak of nature. What a pity he'll lose you before he can use you for the good of his fucking Grisha.
"Other people won't see it like that. You know this, so stop lying to me." The redhead sighs, running a hand through her hair.
"Just put it on. People need to know that the king broke his word to Grisha to force you to participate in the Hunger Games, breaking part of the covenant between us."
"This isn't my war to fight, Genya. Besides, I'm going to die in games anyway, so what's the difference?" Your response only enraged her more.
She didn't raise her voice, and you wouldn't have recognized her emotions unless you saw her hands tremble slightly before she placed them behind her back. You wonder how many times she has had to hide her true feelings.
"You have Merzost in your veins, the most powerful force you can draw from. Do you really want to give it all up? Lose the opportunity you have in front of you? Do you know how many of us have been waiting for you?" She asks with resentment in her voice, but you really don't want to argue with her.
You know it doesn't make sense because they are all here believing in some stupid children's story, a fairy tale that made you a savior in their eyes, and now, since you have finally arrived, you are supposed to fly around and pretend to be a hero you know you are not. As if you could do anything you wanted.
"I was dead long before I was chosen for The Hunger Games. Year after year I was only prolongs the inevitable. I am sorry, but that's the truth. Don't get your hopes up."
"I see that my favourite suicide is in good shape today." Your discussion is interrupted by the appearance of the Darkling. You sigh, rolling your eyes at him. You seriously considered throwing yourself at the spear of one of those ancient armored knights that decorated the halls of the palace. At least you wouldn't have to endure his presence any longer. "Are you rested? Fed?"
"Don't you have something else to do instead of keeping an eye on me? Or send your minions to do it for you? This is getting tiring and irritating." Genya gives you an offended look. She huffs, leaving the chambers as she gets a nod from the Darkling.
"I am your mentor. It's my duty to take care of you." He says, clasping his hands behind him once you're left alone. He looks at you carefully and takes a step towards you. This time, you don't step back but stare at him defiantly.
"Then it is with great pleasure that I would like to relieve you of this obligation." Your words only make him chuckle. He straightens a piece of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. His fingertips brush against your cheek, making you shiver. However, you do nothing to let him know how much his proximity bothers you.
"Oh, you won't make it. Only a king can do this. Do you like your kefta?" He asks, changing the subject. You turn your head towards the offending fabric still hanging on the chair.
"It looks like a floor rag." You say, not hiding your disgust. He chuckles darkly again. He takes the kefta in his hands and unfolds it, pretending to look at it carefully as he walks over to you again.
"Then Karamzin must be richer than I thought, if this is what your floor rags look like. Especially the orphanage."
"Have you been rummaging through my files? What for?" You ask in shock, trying to mask your fear. If he finds out about Alina and Mal… you don't want to have any more deaths on your conscience.
"Better put it on if you don't want to find out very soon." You decide to follow your better judgement instead of your pride and turn your back on him, letting him put on the hideous kefta. Surprisingly, the material hugs you perfectly. You feel warm and soft—the complete opposite of what you know. You gasp in shock as he reaches for his belt and pulls you towards him. You bump into his chest as he tightens the belt around your waist. "Good girl. Now, put your hand in the crook of my arm and smile nicely, and everything will turn out great today. And if you keep behaving as a good girl, you'll get dessert tonight."
"I'd rather gouge out my eyes and sew my mouth shut than be an obedient little doll that you can dress however you want and show everyone."
"I'd reconsider it if I were you. The chefs baked a chocolate cake today. With chocolate-covered cherries on top. Have you ever had a chance to eat something like it?" He smiles, almost mischievously, as he stands next to you, still waiting for you to follow his instructions.
"Son of a bitch." You mutter under your breath and he laughs. He must have been drunk. He couldn't be in such a good mood. Not him.
"That's actually very ture, my little wellspring." He says and leads you to a slaughter worse than the Hunger Games... he leads you to a party for the Games. Among the nobility. You shudder just thinking about this nightmare (not because he puts his bigger hand on yours).
"You have a very beautiful dress!" You force a fake smile on your lips when a noblewoman compliments you.
"Thank you." You say, sipping your glass of wine. The only good thing that happened to you at the party was alcohol. And even then, the Darkling tried to limit you to this one pleasure, making sure that you didn't drink too much.
Your head hurt from all the nonsense conversations with all these people who were only famous for being born into rich families. Terrible. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice several tributes also struggling to maintain their composure. At least you weren't the only one.
However, after you turned out to be Grisha, the rest of the tributes tended to avoid you. You knew from the beginning that you wouldn't have any friends among them, but it would be nice to have one friendly soul in this terrible place.
"I didn't think the people of District 12 would fit into our community so well, but you, darling, look absolutely perfect." You barely stop yourself from throwing the glass you're holding at her. Instead, you tighten your grip on him and smile politely at her, gritting your teeth in anger.
"I'm glad I can surprise you."
Fortunately, you don't have to talk to her anymore. The general approaches you quickly, noticing your tenseness, and with his natural grace, he places his hand on your waist, starting a conversation with a woman who turns out to be a close friend of the queen. Oops. It's better that he came to you, because you wouldn't apologise if you accidentally allowed Merzost to break free and turn her into a volcra.
As you stand next to them, as larger crowds of women begin to gather around you, you realize a terrible truth. The Darkling was your only support here. Him and Genya.
You flinch as he suddenly tightens his grip on your waist and guides you away from the group of noblewomen, who giggle as you both walk away. You allow yourself to roll your eyes at them.
"What the hell was that?" He asks you angrily, setting your glass down on the table. You automatically reach for it again, but he grabs your hand before you can take it and keeps it away from the alcohol.
"I was just about to ask you the same fucking thing." You respond in a defiant tone, glaring daggers at him. Your stomach was starting to growl, and the bastard wouldn't let you touch anything to eat until you fulfilled your end of the bargain and behaved yourself. As you and he can see, you didn't do very well.
"Don't grimace around them as if they were pouring salt into your open wounds." He says it angrily and lets go of your hand. He reaches for something from the buffet. You freeze when he hands you a tiny plate with some fruit. You lick your lips, staring at your food for a moment before looking back at him. "It's for avoiding causing a drama. Partly. Try harder, and I'll let you eat whatever you want."
"But that's what they do! Do you have any idea what it's like to have to stand there smiling and nodding your head while these snobs from the capital talk about how your people and the city are octopus and beneath them?!" You hiss so only he can hear it, but you take the plate of food from him anyway. God knows when you'll get something again.
"I'm Grisha. I know exactly what you are going through." You would laugh at him mockingly if you didn't have a mouth full of food. He looks at you disgusted, and you quickly get the hint and eat smaller portions.
"Please. You've been doing fine since the Hunger Games. At least your people don't have to die every year to the delight of a bunch of sadistic idiots with stuffed bras and fake hair." Your comment makes him bite his lip, but he still can't help but smile a little. Few people could make him laugh and laugh at the same time. As you can see, Merzost wasn't the only special thing about you.
However, your hostile look reminds him that you are in the middle of an argument, and it is his turn to present his argument. God, how much work he had to do with you. You will kill him before he can get you safely through the Hunger Games.
"But years ago we were hunted by all of you, and somehow I don't spit on every Ravkan and kill them for it."
"Because you didn't experience it. If you were there, you would act differently." You sound confident. He shakes his head, wondering how you would react to the truth. Although now he seems to be more interested in food than in anything he has to say. He had to finally feed you. His Merzost Holder couldn't go hungry. It's enough that you experienced hunger and poverty in District 12.
"You think?" He asks, setting your empty plate on the table and offering his hand to you. You look at him for a moment, confused by the sudden… change in his attitude.
"General?"
"You can dance, can't you?" He asks, taking your hand, and without waiting for your response, he leads you to the dance floor. The rest of the mentors have no such idea, so you both are closely watched by all the participants in the ball.
"A little." You say shyly, something he's experiencing from you for the first time. He smiles fondly at you, which, of course, you don't see, too embarrassed to look at anything other than your shoes. But others see. The general's small smile does not go unnoticed by his closest soldiers.
"I guess I have to work with that." He says this and gently lifts your chin to look at him. He places a hand on your waist, and the other holds yours in an iron, steady grip. "Eyes on me. Put your hand on my shoulder and try not to fall. Keep up with me, and everything will be fine."
All you can do is trust him, which you do with surprising ease for him. Somehow, he can't take his eyes off you. You looked gorgeous in the black kefta, especially with his symbol embroidered on the back—a little thing you didn't need to know yet. And so, looking at you, Aleksander can't help but wonder what it would be like if he met you under different circumstances. Maybe if he were younger, less experienced... if his mother's words didn't ring so loudly in his head every time he started to feel something akin to tenderness towards you. Maybe if he hadn't lost so many...
Meanwhile, you try to fight the strange feeling he gives you every time his skin touches yours. You feel a strange pull, a calling, and you realise how your power, the same one you tried to ignore and forget for so many years, comes to life under his touch. You hated it. And him. For trying to break down the walls that you put up for so long and so hard. For trying to make you the Grisha you hated. For making it so easy for you to sink into the arms of the Black Heretic ancestor.
And at the same time… it was nice to feel important for a change… even if just for a moment.
So you dance with him, agreeing to this little moment of truce between you two. Deciding that you would look for answers later as to why you felt so attached to him. And why every time he touched you you felt so… powerful.
"That was awful." You groan as you finally return to your chambers, with the Darkling by your side, of course.
He hasn't left you since that dance. He was always somewhere next to you as you talked with the nobility. You have gained several sponsors and the favour of important people in Os Alta. The Darkling was pleased. And you're exhausted.
"And wonderful. You did great, much better than I expected. The servants should bring our dinner soon." He says, sitting next to you on the couch, watching as you take off your kefta and throw it in the corner of the room. He bites his lip, deciding not to comment. He already expected a lot from you today. The manners lesson could have been taught another time.
"Our?" You ask surprised, not expecting him to stay longer than necessary.
"Do you mind?"
"Yes." You answer honestly and straight away, to which he just laughs.
"I wish I cared." He replies with a mischievous smile. You roll your eyes as you take off your shoes and try to pick any pins out of your hair. Genya seemed to enjoy tormenting you. There were definitely too many of them. "So a healer? Really?" He asks, referring to your last conversation. Someone asked you what you wanted to do before you got into The Hunger Games. You decided to answer truthfully once. Of course, you were laughed off and called a sweet, naive soul willing to help. You wanted to vomit on their polished, gold-plated shoes.
"Why not?" You ask angrily. He raises his hands defensively with a smirk, seeing how fed up you are with everything that happened today.
"It's rather… a thankless profession among the common people. Healers usually come to them when they are dying. Relieve suffering. They are the harbinger of death, almost like a reaper. Usually, they are not coming to actually extend their lives."
"So you must have had similar experiences." You scoff, making him think about it. This wasn't what you expected. You were expecting a rather harsh answer. Not a pensive, almost sad look. For a moment, you think that maybe he, too, could just be human. You shake your head. No. He was just one of them. He couldn't have any... human feelings or know the real pain.
"Painful but true. They don't get excited when they see me either." His whisper should make you change the subject, but after the terrible day he put you through, all you want to do is stick a pin in him where it hurts the most.
"I wonder why..." You start, but he cuts you off before you can finish.
"Don't mock. You were behaving so nicely. I prefer you to smile than spit acid."
"I wish I cared." You repeat his words from a while ago, trying to imitate his tone of voice. He rolls his eyes at you, but somehow you both do nothing more than make snide comments to each other. Taking advantage of the relatively quiet moment between you, you decide to ask him honestly. "What do you want from me?"
"To win." He replies simply, playing with the ring on his finger. He rolls it over on his finger, resting his chin on his hand as he looks at you intently. A shiver runs through you as the dark depths of his eyes meet yours. Undeterred by his short, evasive answer, you continue, knowing that this is your only chance to get something from him.
"And then what? You won't let me go back to my district." You say, knowing perfectly well that this is not an option for you. IF you win.
"You are right. You will live here. With Grisha. The people you belong to." You frown, dissatisfied with his answer. You weren't Grisha. You will never be. No matter how much he pushes and forces you to become one of them.
"Unless I die, which is very probably since I am not going to kill anyone on the arena." You remind him. He doesn't seem to take your promise seriously. You don't convince him. He will see for himself in the arena how serious you are about your decision.
"You won't die." He says it firmly, as if it were an obvious fact.
"How can you..."
"YOU WON'T!" He yells at you, standing up. You sit stoically in the same position as before, watching as the shadows in the corner of the room gather around him. He sighs and waves them away. "I've been waiting a long time for you, Y/N. You are the one of your kind and even more precious than a Sun Summoner. I won't see your dead body. No matter how much you want it."
"Leave." You say, too tired to argue with him, to tell him that you have no intention of being an obedient tool in his hands, that you won't be a weapon that he can use.
"That's my palace." Furious at his words, you get up to face him. You look at each other with pure hatred.
You are too tired to notice that a dark mass is beginning to form around your arms. But Aleksander sees it. And he watches with fascination as you let your powers slip through. Out of curiosity, he summons his shadows behind you. Just a small black cloud. However, for some reason, under the influence of your powers, the room is plunged into complete darkness. He looks at you in shock, realising that you had unknowingly empowered him by providing him with energy from Merzost. Unbelievable.
"And my room for a while, so prove to me you can sometimes be the nobel man everyone told me you are and leave me alone." You whisper; all you can see in the dark surrounding you are its irises, analysing you with undisguised fascination and admiration.
If only you trained, if you learned to control what was inside you... Aleksander wouldn't have to take anyone into account; he could just declare himself tsar, threatening the Ravkans to expand the fold if they didn't recognise Grisha's greatness. All he needed was you.
"As you wish." He says, deciding to let you win this fight. He takes your hand and holds it tight as he calls his shadows back to him. They come back in a second. One blink, and the darkness in the room disappears. Impossible. Even his mother didn't have that much control in her glory days. He wondered if you would have this effect only on him or on other Grisha as well. But no. He won't share this secret with anyone. Not yet. For now, you were only his little wellspring of power. "Tomorrow is the first day of your training. 7 A.M. Don't be late, or I will drag you out of your bed by myself." He says, letting go of your hand and walking towards the exit, trying hard not to steal glances at you. He would have to look into his grandfather's journals and old books. You were a real mystery. And he was just waiting to see what more you could do besides complete him perfectly.
"Go to hell." You mutter under your breath, rubbing the hand that was in his iron grip a few moments ago. You felt that stupid electric thrill again. It definitely had to have something to do with your strange connection. Darkling and Merzost Holder. You had to find out more about it. Maybe you need to start being nice to Genya after all...
"Excuse me?" He asks, turning around in the doorway when he hears the insult from you.
"Sleep well." You reply with a sweet, cynical smile. He shakes his head in amusement and decides to ignore your behavior. He'll give you a hard time at training tomorrow. See how far your skills range. With a little training, who knows... maybe you'll be able to bring people back from the dead.
Involuntarily, his thoughts turn to Luda. If he had you by his side earlier… no. He couldn't think about her. He knows that history would have turned out the same way. Because even if you had revealed yourself to him earlier, he would have been too busy with you to see anyone else.
Aleksander promises himself that he will do everything to prevent you from becoming his second Luda. He had enough ghosts of his past tormenting him at night. And you can't become another one of them. If necessary, I will kill these tributes myself. He will find a way. He always did.
Unless someone dares to interfere with his plans... just like last time. That's why, immediately after leaving your chambers, he goes to the only person he knows who will be able to protect you from his greatest enemy.
"Ulla?! Sister?! I have an offer you can't refuse!" He calls from the shore of the lake in the gardens of Little Palace.
#oneshot#the darkling#aleksander morozova#aleksander morozova x reader#aleksander morozova x y/n#darkling#shadow and bone#the darkling x reader#aleksander kirigan#darkling shadow and bone#darkling x reader#the darkling x you#general kirigan x you#general kirigan x reader#genya safin#aleksander x reader#aleksander morovoza#hunger games#hunger games au#fanfiction#romance#manipulation#toxic relationship#toxic love#the hunger games#hunger#miniseries#series#general kirigan
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So I had a busy weekend and didn't wanna get bogged down writing because that always gives me The Executive Dysfunctions. So I got bogged down arting instead!
My OC Tegyd Lowri Humphries! She originates from Birds of a Feather, my spite-motivated fic wherein I queer the fuck out of the Potter universe and pointedly do better wherever I can than Her Despicable TERFness did when it comes to disability, nonhumans, etc. She's a Welsh half-human, half-caprid centaur, which are centaurs but goat instead of horse. So she's effectively a faun. Lives in a lil cottage in a secret village in the Bannau Brycheiniog called Pen ôl y Ddraig with her father, the caprid centaur. Her Mum comes and visits frequently, though she lives in Cardiff - it's not a broken family situation, it's just the most convenient arrangement for them. Tegyd's adventurous, and loves a good hike up a mountain. At the current point in the story I'm writing, she's in her third year at the wizard school, and a prominent member of the Nonhuman Club, with her dryad friend Blodwen, who is a crab apple tree, whom she grew up with.
Tegyd is one example of how I actually deal with the implications and consequences of my worldbuilding (looking at you, Jowling), she's an exploration of the Statute's fuckery as it affects anyone visibly nonhuman, as well as just in general, what it's like for a nonhuman to grow up in that world, though post-Kaleidoscopic Grangers (my original spite-fic, BOAF is a sequel to it, where I made Potter a blind trans girl adopted by the Grangers and had a whole heap of fun).
She's also getting migrated to an original story idea where she's a Welsh fae who's gone off to live among humans who are in that universe her special interest. Finally she doesn't have to deal with fae bullshit- oh wait, she gets the crown princess of the Seelie dropped unwittingly in her lap along with a package deal quest. But that's the Seelie Princess version, not the BOAF version - the SP version got combined with another BOAF OC, Alpin Faughn, a Welsh-Scottish lil lad with heterochromia and a penchant for sewing and embroidery.
I don't often draw, so this one was a Process™. I started off by finding a reference pose, which I then destroyed by photoshopping the goat legs, ears, and horns onto. Then I gave up for several months lmao. Then I decided to resurrect it with some art tips a friend gave me (shout out to @brewbellwizardry and later @death-munchkin who babied me through shading), starting by tracing a skeleton and general shape onto paper on my screen - 'cos one of the things that pissed me off previously was trying to use a drawing tablet, which I discovered is actually a skill. Then I began iterating, tracing over traces, general shape first which needed a little adjusting since Tegyd's canonically a bit curvier than the model. I used that as a reference for the clothes, did the tops first then the skirt, then I traced all of the components onto a master trace, which I then scanned with my printer into my computer. Did the hair on a separate piece of paper so it wasn't hell.
And then came my second ordeal of computering it. Started off by blocking out the colours, then doing outlines (which are still manky but shush I don't need to fix thoSE-) and then other details. The tartan be wonky as hell, but hey. Thanks to my friends I was able to figure out how the fuck to do shading, and voila!
And there we have her, my shoddy attempt at my funky six foot satyr lass.
#art#original art#original character#oc art#oc artwork#my oc art#writing#satyr#faun#digital art#drawing#i ain't tagging this as fanfiction 'cos it ain't fanfiction#SPITE fiction
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Dissociation and grounding tips
This is the first actually helpful thing I have done. Previous but still kinda persecutor. I am attempting this protector nonsense so we will ACTUALLY DO THINGS. I do not apologize for the swearing. Deal with it. I regret nothing.
Tips because we are prone to checking tumblr instead of doing ANYTHING PRODUCTIVE. So I am being a passive aggressive little shit to myself and posting a list of things I should be doing to ground myself instead. And then every time this gets a note, maybe SOMEONE will get the hint.
And hey, if it helps other people. Then good. But understand that this is made with reckless abandon exclusively for how it helps us. Your mileage may vary.
TASTE CENTERED
Taste something sour for focus
Taste something sweet to calm young ones down
Spicy for general dissociation
Drink water for fucks sake
NOT SODA, STOP DRINKING COKE
Unless you haven't eaten anything lately. Remember water on an empty stomach makes us sick. Every time.
If dehydrated, eat pumpkin seeds cause youll drink more
Ashwaghanda gummies for anxiety, give time to take effect
CBD for upset stomach
Cocoa Krispies for that one specific young one
Make tea for mindfulness
SMELL CENTERED
Scent rollers in purse for immediate focus
Perfume for general grounding
Tea for mindfulness
Go outside for clarity
Candles. Just... candles
I demand more fire
Fuck you, thats why
SOUND CENTERED
Enya for anxiety
Sonic music for hype
Trapt for zen
30 Seconds to Mars for depression
Linkin Park for anger
Bedroom Hymns by Florence + The Machine if you need out and no one else is responding. Yes, that's a cheat code to get my attention. No it will not cause an automatic switch (for you paranoid ninnies).
Anything binaural for general dissociation. Yes it confuses the hell out of our brain. That's the point. Suddenly sound demands attention, interrupting dissociation
Meditation recordings if desperate
You fucking weirdos listen to past life regression meditation videos to help sleep. I have no idea why. It makes no bloody sense.
SIGHT CENTERED
Binge watching youtube is better than staring into the abyss. Bloody hell. At least there's a chance something will demand our attention that way. The abyss only begets more abyss.
Watch the outdoors for general dissociation
STOP SCROLLING EVERY SOCIAL MEDIA ENDLESSLY
Play a rhythm game or something at least if you HAVE to use the phone. That requires some focus but a minimal amount
Watch fire. Candle or incense.
Take a bath, use a bath bomb, and light candles. Watch sparkles in the water and watch steam by candle light. Particularly good for anxiety and PTSD reactions
Dont inspect our skin. You'll start picking at it. Every time.
Draw on our skin for focus and catharsis
TOUCH CENTERED
Run chainmail across skin for general dissociation
Lotion for for focus. Unless that one guy is around cause it bothers his germaphobia
Stress ball for general grounding
Onno roller or fidget pen for multi-tasking
Run something soft across skin for that skin crawling sensation that we still don't know who causes
Slime and sand for young ones
Any number of fidget toys from our purse or under our office desk
ACTIVITY CENTERED
Make crochet/embroidery/friendship bracelets/chainmail for general dissociation
Sprint back and forth across the yard for mental exhaustion
No I don't know why that helps but it absolutely does
Video games to avoid doing stupid things
Read fiction to make sleepy. But something low mental energy, cause otherwise you'll binge read that shit and stay up all night
Clean for depression. Even if it's something tiny
Breathing exercises for anxiety
Coloring books for the young ones
Find a cat and aggressively cuddle it or play with it
Dance for PTSD reactions
Text somebody if all else fails
NOW STOP STARING AT NOTHING
SINCERELY MORGANNA
YOU.... PEOPLE. PARTS. ALTERS. WHATEVER.
#dissociative identity disorder#actuallydid#PTSD#depression#anxiety#food mention#swearing tw#grounding
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Bully! Mitsuya Fanfic (pt.2)
Chapter II: Exigence
✿ Word Count: 2.6k
✿ Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x reader
✿ Topics covered: (Eventual) Enemies to lovers trope, Mitsuya POV, tsundere-Mitsuya, bully! Mitsuya, fem. reader, manga spoilers, slight angst + smut
“You look so pretty while you’re sleeping.”
The tender voice-- so gentle, so sweet-- it began to echo within his mind. He, at first, had thought he was dreaming but that voice-- oh that beautiful voice, it tempted him so dearly. He began to chase the voice, following it through the mess of his mind, his thoughts, firmly clasping it and--
It isn’t you.
He opened his eyes, closing them instantly again as the light burned them intensely. He waited a few seconds before trying again, his eyes beginning to readjust as the light became calmer and more bearable. He was face to face with a woman-- he couldn’t seem to recognize her. Her voice, her pleasant voice… it had sounded too similar to your own, he could’ve sworn it was you, laying beside him naked with your head drooping over him as you admired him sleeping. Looking closer upon the woman in front of him, he recognized her as one of his classmates and member of his Home-Economics club. It began to come back to him slowly, how exactly he ended up here. It was just the usual after all, sleeping with women to satisfy his needs-- or rather, his suppressed desires.
He happened to only share one class with you-- of course, it was Designer-101. In this class, the professor would instruct and teach you about the most trendy styles going on, or some older styles that were coming back in fashion and how to incorporate them into your works. It was a very intricate class but you both were determined to accomplish your dreams, even if it meant passing this dread of a course. However, as hard as it might be, Mitsuya fully enjoyed every aspect of the course because it was fun to clash styles, colors, and fabrics just to accomplish the final design. He had noticed you took great pride in this class, too, and even incorporated these color schemes into your lighting and filter ideas. While he’d never admit it to your face, his heart fluttered seeing your eyes gloss over your masterpiece and grin, taking a few moments to admire your work. He rarely bothered you in this case for this exact reason, although he couldn’t help the occasional tease, just to see your squirm.
┃ “Y/N, dear, are you alright? You seem to be struggling a little bit with this embroidery pattern.”
┃ “Sorry, Professor! I’ll get the hang of it quickly, I’m sure, just a small obstacle!” You reassured him, giving him the warm smile Mitsuya mourned losing and wished he could see from the receiving end just once more.
Unbeknownst to you, Mitsuya had eavesdropped on the entire conversation table next to yours. You had attempted to choose a seat that was far away from him, but he picked up on that quite quickly and decided, just out of spite, to sit the table directly horizontal from you. Desperately yearning for a small scrap of your attention, he quickly stepped besides the Professor but composed himself before saying
┃ “Professor, if I may… since Y/N seems to be having a rough time, I can help them out. If that’s with your permission, of course, sir.” He said with that bastardly shit-eating smile that made your stomach turn inside out while wrapping his arm around your shoulder. It was the smile that captivated teachers with it’s innocence and purity-- if only they knew that it was the mischievous smile that you were accustomed to seeing after he was done with you.
Before you could offer a rebuttal, your professor smiled genuinely and nodded, thanking Mitsuya before walking off and mumbling how he was such a good kid. As soon as your Professor had made it to the other side of the enormous classroom, Mitsuya turned to you, shit-eating grin beginning to form into a devious smirk as he finally had some alone-time with you.
┃ “Hey baby~” His voice came out smoothly like butter, words falling out of his mouth as if this was the entire script planned out in his head. Little did you know, it was.
┃ “You’re only helping me figure this embroidery pattern out, that’s it, no rebuttals, nothing more. Got it?” You spat harshly, making that smirk on his face quickly turn into a scowl as you once more rejected any flirtatious opportunity he threw at you.
He scoffed, not acknowledging your question with a nod or even the common courtesy of a reply, but he moved off to the other side of the table to grab the needle that was engraved in the cloth you were attempting to sew on. Even though he moved on pretty quickly, your words had stung him deeply, as it made it clear to him any romantic opportunity he had with you had been reduced and diminished into nothing. He placed it in front of you, motioning his hand for you to continue what you were doing before folding them over his chest. You growled, assuming that this was him punishing you for not reciprocating his flirts. However, it ended up being the exact opposite, as he intently observed your stitch, attempting to pinpoint where you were going wrong. Your accuracy was fine, your hands enwrapped the needle firmly but gently as you intertwined it within the cloth and there, he had picked up on what you were doing wrong. He carefully set himself behind you, having his chest press against your back as he wrapped his arms around you to hold your hands. The surprise caught your breath and made it hitch, feeling his ice-cold hands gently coddle your warm ones, balancing out the heat. Catching on to your growing flustered state, he smirked but his voice disguised it perfectly as he explained your mistake to you while beginning to guide your fingers through the cloth.
┃ “Your accuracy, your grip, all of that is perfect, sweetheart. Your mistake is you pull the needle out too early before allowing it to catch proper depth within the cloth. That’s why the final design comes out messy.” He explains, his words sounding almost like a textbook, professional, informative, while also comforting your tensed shoulders with his velvety voice and pet names as he continued to guide your hands until you reached the end of the segment.
Subconsciously, you had begun to relax in his grip, leaning your back into his chest as you finally perfected the technique with little help from his assistance as he withdrew his hands and allowed you to continue without him, setting his hands on the table and caging you in. He took the moments of silence to indulge in the warmth of your back pressing against him, a moment that came so rarely yet drove him insane every time your skin happened to graze him. You, on the other hand-- your mind was far from relaxed. You questioned why he was being so tender with you when he was so rough with you earlier, unprovokingly shoving you to the ground and humiliating you in front of your classmates. You opened your mouth to question him, but reluctantly closed it once you realized you wouldn’t get a real answer if you questioned him. After all, after being so kind the next day he’d return to normal as if nothing happened-- as if there was no spark between you both. He awoke you from your thoughts by placing his fingers below your chin, softly lifting your face to meet his own.
┃ “Cat got your tongue? Or maybe I will, soon~” he giggled to himself, grinning down at you, this time a genuine smile that expressed pure delight.
┃ “What happened to us, Mitsuya?” You bluntly asked, causing him to tense, his smile forming into a poker face as he contemplated your question carefully.
Months-- months ago, you were standing there after school after one of their club meetings next to the campus entrance, waiting for someone as she told him. He offered to wait with you but you told him it was okay-- no, you shooed him off, giving him some excuse as to why he couldn’t wait with her. A little arrow pierced through his lovestruck heart but he nodded and walked away, however he did not leave. He remained across the street hiding in the corner, far enough for her to not notice he still remained on campus grounds but close enough to still see her patiently waiting. He insisted his duty as her club president was to watch over her and ensure her safety, of course, there was nothing special about that. Any club member would do a little spying just to ensure their kohai’s well-being. She was pushing him away, that wasn’t normal, so surely something must be wrong. That was when that little shit Takemichi came along and his mouth fell open, in shock she knew a loser like him. Hanagaki Takemichi did not attend their university, however, he was a part of Toman, which was still growing in power. Takemichi had only joined recently but he had quickly won the hearts of Mikey and Draken, therefore anyone would think Mitsuya liked him too. How far from the truth that statement was-- Mitsuya despised Takemichi. His dumbass couldn’t fight for shit-- no brains nor brawn. During the fight with Valhalla, he was tasked with saving Baji and couldn’t even do so. Thankfully, Baji had survived his stab wounds, although the doctors informed Mitsuya and the others he was very lucky to have lived. On lesser issues, Takemichi also shows no signs of respect-- going as far as to punch the recently appointed 3rd division captain, Kisaki Tetta. What the fuck were you doing with someone like him? He watched your interaction so diligently, taking every note of laughter, smiles, and nods you gave Takemichi until Mitsuya began to feel himself clutching his knuckles so tight they looked like they were about to pop right out of his fists. Was everything you had gone through for the past few months nothing more than a game? Had he misunderstood your feelings-- was there really no spark between you both? The thought of this made his stomach drop, hitting him like a truck. No no, that was clearly the case, there was no other reason why you'd giggle so much around Takemichi, smile at him so fondly, or gaze at him as your eyes began to sparkle whenever he got enthusiastic about whatever the fuck it was he was talking about.
The next thing he knew, he was yelling at you after club hours the next day, shouting about how much of a dumbass you were, and how you failed to pick up on social cues around you. Many other insults came flying out his mouth, hitting you like bricks, piling up and causing the tears to build up. Truthfully, the entire situation was an entire blur to him. All he could remember was the close proximity of your faces as he yanked your chain when you attempted to talk back, which is when he noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall if provoked any further. You were released from his grip instantly and in a calm voice, he allowed you to exit, a loud sniffle accidentally slipping out of your lips as you ran out of the room before he could see you cry. He stared at you blankly, reminiscing before releasing your chin from his gentle fingers and backing away from you as he replied:
┃ “I could ask you the same.”
You remained looking at him for a few moments, before deciding it wasn’t worth engaging with him. He watched as you carried your project back to your designated locker, locked it, and put on your backpack before asking the professor if you could leave since it was time to go. Glancing at his watch, he announced class was dismissed and you quickly rushed out before bumping into Hakkai directly outside the door to the left, who was waiting for Mitsuya. You apologized to him instantly, to which he smiled and patted your head. A conversation ensued between the two of you and as Mitusya walked out, he saw the two of you engaging and laughing. It almost identically mimicked the way you acted with Takemichi, innocently smiling and staring at him so adoringly. He envied the comfortability you both shared in your relationship, the air bubbling with chemistry. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s staring until one of his club members taps his shoulder, greeting him and complimenting his outfit.
┃ “Hey, Kashi! Love your jacket, is it new?”
Now he’s here, back at his place with one of his kohai’s as he pushes her into the wall, roughly kissing her and quickly unbuttoning her shirt as she unzips his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and soon the rest of their clothes follow. Moans and groans fill the room, although most of them are hers. He’s painfully silent throughout their session, too frustrated to really focus on her-- however, she’s too accentuated on her own pleasure to notice he’s simply using her as a stress reliever and nothing more. There’s nothing wrong with her, she’s beautiful, she’s skilled, talented, kind, but she’s simply not you. She looks nothing like you but her voice, oh god her voice, it sounded almost just like yours. Her moans made his skin heat up, imagining it was your warm silky hands embracing him, you begging him to love you more. It was enough to satisfy him for now, just enough to pretend the woman he was pleasuring so much was you. She moaned his name and he bit his lip, using all of his might to fight the instinct to moan out your name instead. His slams grew harsher and tougher, releasing all of that pent up desire and anger in single strokes. The rest of the night was a blur, as soon as he pulled off the condom he went to sleep, bored of her.
┃ “Kashi~”
He sighed, remembering his idiocy of yesterday evening and how he’d now have to gently reject this girl without letting her know he simply used her as a distraction. He spent a good minute contemplating her name before she spoke to him again.
┃ “Kashi? You alright?”
┃ “Mmh, sorry... just tired.”
┃ “Ah, it’s fine sleepyhead~ you know, yesterday was really fun, we should do it more often. How about a date tonight?.”
┃ “Awh...dear… that’s awfully sweet of you… I’m just not looking for something serious right now. I’m just into one-night stands at the moment.”
┃ “Oh… oh! Maybe we could be sex partners then?”
┃ “Ah, Sure… sure.” He privileged her with a smile of pure pity, relaxing his head back on the pillow, hoping to drift back to sleep so once he awoke she’d be long gone. The plan was if she ever reached out for sex again, he’d just come up with some excuse on how he was busy finishing a project. His mind drifted off, thinking about seeing you in class, only to remember it was a Saturday and that meant he didn’t have class with you-- in fact, Saturday’s were a relatively free day for him. He booked himself with classes every other day and decided he should have at least one day off. You know what that meant? He’d have to fucking dread it with this chick until she took the hint and left. The faster he fell asleep, the sooner this day would be over. He didn’t bother to listen to the woman as she continued speaking to him, closing his eyes as he censored her out and slowly drifted back to sleep.
tags: @haiq-trash, @blackmysticalsimp @the2ndl @bren-heron
a/n: f in the chat for anyone who thought bully! Mitsuya had healthy coping mechanisms, also you should check out @darenimo if you already haven't because she helped me proofread this chapter and gave me all of her commentary while reading it and I sobbed for a good 10 minutes straight. I love she.
#tokyo revengers#tokyorevengersfanfic#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyorev#tokyorev x reader#tokrev#tokrev x reader#tokyo revengers x you#tokyo revengers x y/n#tokyorev x yn#tokyo rev x you#tokrev x you#tokrev x y/n#tokyo revengers mitsuya#mitsuya takashi#takashi mitsuya#mitsuya x reader#mitsuya x y/n#mitsuya x you#tokyo revengers fanfiction#tokyo rev fanfic#tokrev fanfic#tokyo revengers smut#tokyorev smut#tokrev smut#tokyo revengers angst#tokyo rev angst#tokrev angst#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers hcs
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In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)
Ngl quite proud of this one!!
Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?
Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D
All due credits go to @aikk00 for this AMAZING fanart!!!!
I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.
I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.
"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.
"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...
"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.
"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.
"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.
"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.
Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...
"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.
I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."
He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.
"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.
“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.
I simply roll my eyes.
No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.
But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.
At least, that's what I keep telling myself.
Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.
"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.
"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"
I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.
"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.
"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.
I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.
"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.
"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"
"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.
I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?
I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."
I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.
He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.
"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.
Well, I guess that will never happen.
"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.
He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.
I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.
Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...
I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.
It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.
Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.
To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.
"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.
He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.
Must hurt like a bitch.
Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.
"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.
"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.
"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"
My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"
He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"
I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.
Fuck this shit.
"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.
"...I just said I can't."
---
"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.
"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.
Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.
"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.
"It burns, it burns-”
“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.
I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.
"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.
"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.
"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.
Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."
It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.
He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.
Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.
"That's what he said," is his reply.
I smack his head in response.
Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3
#kuroo x reader#haikyuu drabbles#racer!kuroo#kuroo tetsuro scenarios#haikyu fics#haikyuu!!#kuroo x y/n#kuroo x gender neutral reader#kuroo x gn!reader#kuroo x you
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XICHENG FIC RECS
hold my hands by Snooze (Chiruka)
Transplanting a core into a new person isn’t without repercussions. One year after the events at Guanyin Temple, Jiang Cheng found himself once again faced with the possibility of losing everything he had. Reconciling with his brother, learning to let Jin Ling go, and dealing with his blooming emotions toward the First Jade of Gusu — will Jiang Cheng accomplish what he wants before time runs out?
it all passes someday by screamlet
A week before the anniversary of Wei Wuxian’s death, there was a commotion outside Lan Wangji’s house.
*
Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji over the years.
The Unlikely Expression of Love by manamune
When everything has settled, when everyone else has moved on with their lives and their friends, Jiang Cheng has a realization which shouldn’t actually be a surprise:
He’s lonely.
Indigo, lavender, and violet (I don't wanna be red) by ohwhatevrewhatevr
It, in the pale colors of the late morning, is the closest to perfect Jiang Cheng will ever reach. He strokes Lan XiChen's hair and presses a light kiss to where his ribbon and hair meet. The sky is a pale blue, and the pastels of flowers and clouds are spread out through the window, a brilliant world waiting for them, them in the gentian house, safe from stronger breezes - there is the clutter of birds fluttering and chirping outside. It is a warm, perfect, spring morning.
Jiang Cheng and Lan XiChen have been together for an year. In which, no one ever really gets over things, Jiang Cheng has the misfortune of interacting with his brother, the juniors help out with the proposal, and there's a marriage.
Altitude by starknjarvis
When Jin Ling lures Jiang Cheng to the Cloud Recesses under false pretenses, he finds himself out of place among this new family Wei Wuxian has formed.
Lan Xichen, at least, seems pleased to have his company.
Perhaps there is still a chance for Jiang Cheng to make amends and move forward.
[Modao Zushi Online] GLITCH REPORT: My Brother Got Chased Down And %$@*$&@ By Gusu Dungeon Boss??? by oh_fudgecakes
Modao Zushi Online is a virtual reality MMORPG. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are top ranking players in its new server, currently tied with their arch-nemesis from their previous server, Wen Chao. In an attempt to defeat him, they take on the Gusu Dungeon Boss, Zewu-jun, to win the reward of a legendary weapon. Ever the cheat, Wei Wuxian tries to take advantage of a glitch to defeat the seemingly undefeatable boss. It backfires. Jiang Cheng gets fucked by a boss monster.
He can't get enough.
Meanwhile, Lan Xichen, the unwitting staff member in charge of controlling Zewu-jun, absolutely did not sign up to be pulled into a secret virtual reality fling with a player. Mod Ji, who has to deal with Wei Wuxian's incessant glitch reporting of his brother's sex life, is long-suffering.
Mulberry by xxdz
Jiang Cheng grits his teeth and pushes harder. He feels like torn silk, the embroidery needle sinking in again and again and again; patiently, desperately, endlessly trying to make something beautiful out of something broken.
Jiang Cheng builds his sect, learns embroidery, and raises his nephew.
we can raise a little family by lanyon
“Well, brother,” says Wei Wuxian, leaning against the outside of Jiang Cheng’s chambers. “I had heard that you and Xichen went on a night hunt and came back with a baby, which is not the order I’d choose to do things in…”
In which Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen acquire a baby of unknown origin, and are the very last to know what it means.
Beyond the Impossible by Silverine
Summoned by Lan Qiren, Jiang Wanyin goes to the Cloud Recesses to drop his nephew Jin Ling, expecting to discuss relevant matters with his old master. Instead, he's asked to take with him no other than Sect Leader Lan himself, all the way back to Lotus Pier. If the reason why he accepted such an outrageous task is indeed a mystery, he's about to be surprised by how this entire trip, their encounters, and his warm company, suddenly feel fated.
Incrementally by xxdz
Jiang Cheng is trapped in a day on repeat where he begins by waking in Zewu Jun’s bed at dawn and ends by dying painfully at dusk.
It’s getting very irritating, and he has the sneaking suspicion that his chances to solve his own murder are rapidly running out. Soon, his death will be much more permanent.
All in all, worst birthday ever.
Audience of One by WinterDreams
“Then let an established star go first,” Lan Xichen interrupts again before Lan Wangji can give a stubborn reply. Both men twist toward Lan Xichen, and he smiles at Wei Wuxian’s tilted head. “If I publicly date a man for awhile first, your engagement shouldn’t receive as much backlash.”
Or, that AU where everyone is famous in some way or another, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have been dating in private for years, and Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng pretend to date publicly for their brothers' sake.
A Bit of Ruthlessness by jirluvien
When Jiang Cheng hears that Lan Xichen went into seclusion following Jin Guangyao’s death, it’s almost as if he can see the grabby hands of a restless ghost, reaching out for something to keep him company. For something warm and living and devastated. And as history has proved time and time again, the Lans are perfect victims when it comes to giving in to ghosts.Yeah, no. Not on Jiang Cheng’s fucking watch.A story about grief, determination, unexpected friendships, abandoned watchtowers, and letters. So many letters.
All Tied Up In You by Clearpearls
Yet again, the night had come to this:
Jiang Cheng on the floor, kneeling, Zidian wrapped around his wrists.
Alone.
Thank You, and I'm Sorry by Hamliet
Jin GuangYao might be dead, but his story is not. Taking advantage of the chaos he instigated, someone makes an attempt on the life of the young new leader of the Jin Sect. When Jiang Cheng takes Jin Ling to the Cloud Recesses to have him study while he attempts to work with Wei WuXian and his husband Lan WangJi to eliminate the threat, he encounters a mourning Lan XiChen, lovestruck teenagers, and a persistent corpse--and both pairs of brothers find themselves struggling to move on.
saturn's rings (don't be a heartbreaker) by iskendaris
Set after the seige of burial mounds, Yunmeng rebuilds as they hold the first Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Sometimes the night is a gift, a refuge for loneliness.
"So stern, Sect Leader Jiang," Lan Xichen murmured, "So glacial... What will it take to melt that icy exterior? What can I say?"
"Nothing. There's nothing you can say or offer."
reciprocity by jukeboxhound
There’s a pause before Lan Xichen says, in a tone that’s a little more neutral, “I would like to paint on you.”
“…What?”
“Of course, if you say ‘yes’ but then change your mind at any point, for any reason, you need only say so and I will stop immediately,” he adds.
Well, silver lining: Jiang Cheng is feeling much more awake than he was a moment ago.
Talent Hunt Crew Finds Angry Guy Shouting On College Campus, Recruits Him For Vocal Projection Abilities by oh_fudgecakes
Jiang Cheng, resident Angry Guy and heir to a conglomerate empire, has never been the apple of his father’s eye. Quashed under the shadow of his brilliant brother, the music prodigy Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng sees his chance to turn things around when he is recruited by the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt. One problem: he can’t sing to save his goddamn life.
As he struggles to develop his nascent singing abilities, Jiang Cheng finds himself sucked into the whirlwind drama of reality TV, helped along by his adoring siblings, his irritable vocal coach Wen Qing, and strangely enough, the unfairly attractive host of the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt, Lan Xichen. Somewhere in the glare of the stage lights and an unexpected first love, Jiang Cheng stumbles upon the thing he was searching for all along: the courage to dream — and to attempt the impossible.
Marginal Costs by ohwhatevrewhatevr
“You think you know what you want, Er-Ge,” A-Yao says. “But you should consider what you’re willing to give first,” he says wryly, taking Lan XiChen’s chess piece with slim, skilled fingers.
Lan XiChen looks up at A-Yao’s concentrated expression and the hint of contentment on his face that he is special enough to be allowed to see.
“It’s not just one decision, but the lead up to many more. One decision decides what else you’re going to have to pay, and each time you have to ask yourself, ignoring the sunk costs, if this time it’s worth it as well.”
When his sworn brother looks up at him with those clear, amber eyes, waiting, Lan XiChen feels the pull and gives in: he asks.
“Are you happy being in love?”
(First half is two sad sworn brothers talking, internally mourning how unfortunate their other sworn brother’s death was :/ and second half is when a mopey boy in blue meets an angsty boy in purple whilst chasing a demonic cultivator, and a lil bit of sexy dual cultivation happens.)
Somewhat Tender by theherocomplex
There is no defense against kindness; it has always undone him.
I didn't expect you to be lonely (too) by bettydice (BettyKnight)
Jiang Cheng's life is a mess, he's a mess, and he doesn't miss his brother at all. So when his sister gifts him ten sessions with a massage therapist, who turns out to be someone he was crushing on for a hot minute as a teenager and is still as hot as ever... yeah, that might as well happen. It won't have to mean anything.
This feels intimate to Jiang Cheng in a way that's probably very inappropriate and maybe even pathetic. Nobody touches him like this, right where he’s hurt the most. There's no one who handles him so gently, so carefully.
It's the gentleness that's his undoing, he thinks. He would be able to deal better with it if it was painful.
Life for Rent by yodasyoyo
“Yeah well. You’re not taking me seriously. This guy is my soulmate!”
“Soulmate.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Just because you don’t believe in them—”
“I believe in them!” Jiang Cheng says. “I’ve never denied they exist.”
“Just last week you said that it was an evolutionary quirk that had been used by greetings card companies, movie makers, and corporations to exploit lonely and vulnerable people.”
“And I stand by it! That doesn’t mean that soulmates aren’t real. Just incredibly unlikely and probably pointless.
-
Or:
Xicheng vs Soulmates. Fight!
Halfway Around the World by theherocomplex
Normally, Jiang Cheng would be seething, jaw clenched tight, if someone sounded like that while they were talking, but — Lan Xichen has the trick of always making you feel like you're in on the joke, whatever the joke is. That you're laughing together.
Whelmed by yodasyoyo
For months now Jiang Cheng’s been idly fantasizing about how it would be if something were to come between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. Mostly those daydreams have been simple enough — they break up (probably because Lan Zhan is boring or Wei Ying is annoying), Wei Ying is sad for a couple of days (Jiang Cheng’s willing to allow some space for feelings, he isn't a total monster), but then Wei Ying realizes he’s better off, he gets over it, and Jiang Cheng gets his brother back.
Unfortunately the fantasy version of events has only proven partially true, so far. They've broken up. Wei Ying has been sad.
Now weeks have passed, though — and Wei Ying is still sad, every. Single. Day.
It’s like Jiang Cheng's stuck in a looping GIF, and it’s driving him insane.
Or:
Jiang Cheng plots, Lan Huan pines, and, unfortunately for Lan Qiren, Wangxian are inevitable.
#xicheng#fic recs#mdzs#mdzs recs#jiang cheng#lan xichen#obvs these reflect my personal preferences etc etc
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omg omg omg... what if jk sees yn WALKING TAE HOME?? like it looks like that but they’re just passing by his place or something and he’s actually walking yn home ?? and to make matters worse jk THOUGHT it wasn’t like that but someone told him “oh yeah she’s walking him home, she’s always done that with him” sorry if it’s not an original idea
cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D
it’s raining at a party and jungkook gets the wrong idea
“good evening.”
yoongi sQUAWKS at the shock that’s mere inches away from his face, having only woken up from his afternoon nap that ended up with him waking right before dinner
why were you all up in his face
what the fuck was that for ://
“god, never do that to me again,” he grumbles at the abrupt awakening even if it’s his system that told him to, only a convenience that you happen to be there when he was starting to shift in his now-shallow slumber
“guess what!!!”
oh you’re squealinG??? alright that must be good
it’s nice to hear you excited anyways because you haven’t been for a long time ever since j*ngkook lol
“just show me,” yoongi sits up fully from his position on the couch, rubbing the remaining sleep off his eyes
normally, you would be pissed instantly because him not guessing just spoils your whole excitement
but tHIS time you don’t look bothered at the slightest, proceeding to take his faux disinterest in stride
the door clicks open and seokjin strides in like he owns the place, trying to immerse himself in the situation he’s walked on as fast as possible
you squeal in regard, eyes now switching between him and yoongi before you whip out something from behind your back
“i got a lunchbox!!!!”
you thrust the lunchbox (you recreated it in the way you receiver it) to yoongi’s face and he flinches momentarily, eyes focusing on the lunchbox first before his mind processes your words
“that is a really shiny scarf it’s — wait what??”
you,,, gOT A LUNCHBOX????
..... and it’s not from him??
yoongi looks at seokjin and the way he looks perplex but definitely sure confirms that it isn’t him either
“so someone — you received a lunchbox. huh.”
WOOOOOOW
you nod earnestly, admiring the shiny scarf and the handiwork of an embroidery that’s your name on it
“yup! i was with taehyung when i noticed it on the corner of the room.”
oh god
seokjin scratches the back of his head and it’s a dead giveaway that yoongi notices, something sketchy definitely up in the air that shouldn’t be there
“yoongi! come here for a sec. i have a uh, question about weed :-)”
jin is nOT good when it comes to segues
he takes the liberty to pull aside a yoongi who has question marks knitted on his eyebrows, his gaze immediately trained on him once they’re far enough away from you
“long story but!!!!! that jungkook kid gave y/n the lunchbox. taehyung just happened to be there.”
you see
yoongi could only digest multiple things from a single sentence at once
but the problem is, he’s digesting EVERYTHING from jin’s sentence and he didn’t want to
he’s just gonna omit the parts he hates the most :D
“y/n. taehyung gave you that lunchbox. say thank you to him tomorrow morning.”
NO??????
jin sputters because that is clearly not the truth he’s just said
and apparently, you seem to think so to because you just laughed at his cutthroat statement
“no he didn’t,” you heartily laugh, putting down the lunchbox before crossing your arms across his chest
no way
both jin and yoongs freeze this time because does that mean you already know who gave the lunchbox to you??
and if you know who, and if you’re laughing right now,,,, does that mean you’ve already forgiven jungkook????
pls say no
“i already thanked taehyung, yoongs,” you smile at the fresh memory, “but two seconds later, he told me that he WASN’T the one who made it for me. he said he’s good at baking, but horrendous at cooking!!!!”
...
.....
“....... so you really don’t know who it is?”
“nope! not a clue :D”
whew
yoongi thinks you should never get to know who it is
jin thinks you shouldn’t know who it is tHIS early
yoongi dodges the topic easily to refrain from dwelling on it any longer, about to send an angry text full of queries to jin later on
“mmm. what was the lunch?”
“my favorite!!!” you beam and even whip out your phone to show them the picture of the food you ravaged hours ago
you turn your eyes to jin, giddy in excitement while yoongi’s holding your phone-holding hand to zoom into the picture
“and it’s just like your recipe!!!”
.. hehe
..... that’s because it his
goddamn jungkook managed to recreate it like his recipe???? hmm commendable
alright yoongi’s angrily looking at him rn
maybe he’ll send an angry paragraph text this time >:(
“weren’t you concerned like... since you don’t know the person? what if they poisoned your lunch?”
yoongi suggests in an attempt to make you think rationally, away from his insistence that you should nEVER know that jungkook made you your favorite
“then i got a good meal out of it.”
:O
that’s not,,,, that’s not a good answer
b-bestie ??????
both yoongi and jin are speechless and the former takes the lead once more, clearing his throat because the conflict of this lunchbox thing is presenting makes his head ache
“anyways, there’s another party tonight.”
you raise your hand quick in the prospect of unwinding for free
“i’m in!!”
“you should be. hoseok’s the host.”
that makes it even better!!!
it apparently doesn’t for mr. student affairs because jin groans in annoyance, not really digging his school official position because he’d need to sit this one out forcibly :///
“goddamn it. jung’s throwing it? his parties are sO good that it even reached our radar when i was still a senior!”
it it reaches senior-level status of approval then that’s like,,,, the only seal of approval you’d ever need
“no way,” you’re awed at the newfound fact, not expecting that hoseok was already an A+ party-thrower even before he became a senior this year
“even namjoon liked his parties.”
namjoon THEE student registrar??? the same namjoon as in your friend by extension because he’s sort of a friend to seokjin???? :O
“really? even namjoon found his parties great??? BUT HE’S LIKE-“ yoongi finds the right substitute words to a stick up his ass in the most respectful way possible because he’s sort of friends with the guy too, “he’s like namjoon,, he’s the antithesis to hoseok.”
jin shrugs because everyone knows the saying at this point
there’s something for everyone at jung’s
“wear a face mask?” yoongi suggests to jin so he wouldn’t be recognized, knowing he’s a lil upset that he can’t come to this party because the face he boasts about is known by everybody
“no. i’m gonna look like a fucking narc, yoongi.”
alright that makes sense
he bounces back from that, waving his hand to shoo you and yoongi off
“sucks. yeah whatever. i’ll hold the fort down, just don’t do anything stupid enough for me to pick you up.”
:)
you’re not gonna do anything stupid!! :)
jungkook’s too down to even focus at the moment
he’s at his desk and he’s supposed to study for a test tomorrow, and all the material needed for it is engraved in his mind already, but well
yeah his mind’s only fixed on you right now and not chemistry
“she thought it was someone else who gave her the lunchbox.”
jin flinches as his door bursts open, his lunch break sign posted rIGHT outside the door to avoid things like these happening
oh it’s jungkook
oh. it’s jungkook ://
“i keep telling you that counseling’s right next door, kid.”
jin himself digs the running joke but jungkook apparently doesn’t, a sorrowed look to his face that can’t be fixed by some teasing
jin ignored that obviously because it’s not like he’s on jeon’s side!! he’s just here to be as neutral and realistic as much as possible
“and besides, it’s not like you put your name on it, right?? wasn’t that your whole purpose? do it to her like she did to you?
”m-my name...,. i’ll put my name...?”
WAIT HOLD ON
jungkook jolts from his desk, an epiphany forming in his mind
he may not have understood the interaction he had with mr. kim hours ago, but after replaying it in his head for hours now (along with that part of you mistaking taehyung to be the giver), he fINALLY gets an idea
he rushes out of his room and right to the couch where jimin’s sprawled out and watching a movie
“hi jimin!!! is there a party tonight?”
jimin almost falls out of his seat from the surprise of seeing jungkook altogether, gripping his chest
“f-fuck! — yeah. yeah dude, there’s a party tonight...?”
wait why is he asking
“o-okay!! take me with you.”
WHAT
jimin’s surprised that jungkook wants to come with, let alone even ask in the first place
buuuut jimin’s a good friend and he’ll say his assurances first before he gets to asking the why aspect to this
“alright. by the way about last time, kook — i swear i won’t leave you alone this time!! i’m gonna hold my alcohol in and-“
“no, no!” jungkook interrupts and shakes his head strongly, spooking jimin for a second with how determined he looks
“you can leave me alone at the party!! i-i’ll be there on my own.”
this is his idea
he’s a man with a plan!!! he’s also a man who has your eyedrops and the various containers he made with it inside his gigantic hoodie pocket
he’s more comfortable now than he was the first time he came around at a party
he knows you’re here somewhere along the crowd and that alone brings him comfort :-)
“i’m gonna go outside. these vape juices are annoying.”
you huff the moment you get a whiff of sriracha-flavored vape juice one more time, the whole area where you happen to sit in being the most annoyingly-scented room in the whole house
who does that!!!!! who gets condiments as their fucking vape juice!!!!!
yoongi waves you off as he’s also nearing his limit too, his peeve being mint chocolate juice and he’s gonna dip as sOON as this dude at the corner tries blowing it into laughable smoke rings again
yeah that’s what fresh air smells like alright
.... and rain??
it’s raining???
wow you haven’t even noticed and practically no one else did
hoseok’s sound system must be too good for none of you to notice that it’s raining outside!! a light shower that looks like it’s gonna turn into buckets within a matter of minutes
“Y/N!!!”
a voice yells into the street and your eyes widen with how loud it is, squinting your eyes hard to try and see the source
is that-
“TAEHYUNG?!?!”
is he running towards you??
wait why is he running towards you
(tae actually found out about this party through yoongi and he heard that there were non-alcoholic jello shots and mini cake hors d’oeuvres which are his favorites so he’s sprinting)
the way that he’s running towards you and the water that puddles when he steps gives you anxiety, a worried lilt to your yell
“TAE?? BE CAREFUL IT’S-“
taehyung can’t register what you just yelled out because before he knows it, he slips
he slips suddenly in the rain and there’s a harsh twist to his ankle in doing so that makes him choke out
“WHAT DID YOU — FUCK!!^]%{^]”
oh my god
you grab the nearest umbrella in the rack from your right, speed-walking to where taehyung’s fallen on the ground
he’s visibly startled, blubbering when you get to him
“i-i’m not crying. it’s the rain.”
of course :-)
you lift taehyung without much help from him since it’s hard for him to shift his body weight into one foot, putting yourself underneath his arm
“yeah, i believe you,” you smile as to comfort him and he returns it in relief, knocking the side of his head to the top of yours because his adrenaline’s through the roof
“i’ll walk you home. or to the emergency room. your call.”
“ER please??? god, m-my roommate’s into crystals and i don’t think amethyst can help me with this.”
yeah lmao that’s your cue to start walking
you text seokjin to meet you at the hospital instead of here, having to consider the fact that an official from student affairs is picking you up and is indeed your best friend being enough of a shock for poor taehyung at the moment
jungkook’s been looking for you for the past minute ever since you stood up from the couch, following you out the door but uh,,, you’re not here??
who is here?
oh wait!!! that’s vernon at the bench by the front foor!!! he’s from his stem class :D
“was that y/n? a-and taehyung?”
jungkook doesn’t beat around the bush because he’s sort of friends with the guy too, the same guy who’s a lil giggly with the daiquiris at the moment
“hey jimin!! what’s up dude? yeah, that was y/n and taehyung.”
uhm what
jimin’s BLONDE!! how could he get mistaken for jimin?
jungkook ignores the mistaken identity, eyes anxiously pointing towards the road again
“she’s walking him home?”
“totally. she’s always done that with him.”
what
..... what
he’s trying to trust it on good faith that vernon absolutely doesn’t know what he’s talking about
jungkook’s hurt but god does that pain shoot through him instantly, getting out of the porch wistlessly
wAIT
that’s you!!! that’s still you!!!!
and you’re-
????
you’re holding up taehyung and he’s limping
your ears pick up on the sudden running behind you and that pANICS you and in turn panics tae
but that doesn’t matter
it shouldn’t.
the cabs are atleast three more blocks away and neither of you brought a car because the dorms are walking-distance
everyone that’s left at the party has got to be too intoxicated to even put a key in the ignition
the weight on your shoulder eases and it makes you stop in your tracks to see if tae’s suddenly regrouped
is that —
jungkook lifts taehyung by his other arm, the light shower of rain making his hair damp without an umbrella like yours
“taehyung’s hurt.”
it only registers now that you’re seeing jungkook and he’s right here, surprising you as a whole
jungkook’s as startled as you are, swallowing the nervousness upon seeing you to get his words out
“a-and i wanna talk to you.”
#wHAT SHOULD HAPPEN AT THE NEXT UPDATE OMG#stem koo#jungkook imagine#jungkook imagines#jungkook oneshot#jungkook oneshots#jungkook drabble#jungkook au#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff
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No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]
...I’ve got nothing. Not even sure where the idea came from, but as per usual, the moment my brain had an idea it immediately took it by both hands and ran with it so here you go. Name for this AU might change, but for now here have another song lyric [from Five Finger Death Punch’s “Wrong Side of Heaven”]
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Warnings: mild profanity, dysfunctional families, a metric buttload of gender and identity issues, because the protagonist is a possibly agender character [their stance on gender can be summed up as “huh, those parts are new. Weird. Moving on”]. Not exactly Tony-friendly at times, but not for the reasons you’d think.
To sum up: haven’t done a SI-OC fic before, let’s see how it goes. Under the cut, because RIP mobile users otherwise.
.
Justin Hammer’s name wasn’t always Justin Hammer.
He doesn’t really remember what it was anymore, but he knows that much.
.
Honestly? This ‘memories of another world’ thing was more a pain in the ass than anything else, at least at first.
It might’ve been cool if they remembered something useful— concrete dates, specific innovations, hell, even any tips of what stocks to invest in— but no, they had to get short end of the stick with weird dreams, identity crises, and a longing for a family they’d never had.
Oh, and another round of puberty, because of why the hell not. Like last time hadn’t been enough of a pain in the ass.
Ugh. They wanted a refund.
.
...okay, so it probably could’ve been worse.
Justin has vague recollections of going to sleep hungry, of huddling with their younger sibling under blankets because their parents couldn’t pay the electrical bill— so really, in the great scheme of things, being born as part of the 1% this round was. Something.
Trippy as hell, is what it was, honestly.
This family was loaded, and under other circumstances, they might’ve even been able to enjoy it— if, y’know, they hadn’t had the incredibly shitty luck of being born two years before Tony Stark.
.
“Look at what he’s doing, that could be you” this, “study hard, he’s going to be your rival” that— geez, if any other kid had been in Justin’s shoes, he would not have envied them.
If he didn’t already have a firmly established sense of self, it would have been a mindfuck of a childhood because for some reason, his father kept comparing them? And yeah, Justin could kinda see some of the parallels— they were about the same age, both firstborn sons and heirs to their parents’ respective companies— but that’s about where the similarities ended.
Look, Justin wasn’t a genius, okay? He was fairly bright for his age, but...he wasn’t a one-in-a-million prodigy. And, up until he was 6, that had been acceptable.
But then the press went wild because oh, look, Howard’s son built a circuit board at age four, and it all went downhill from there because suddenly, being normal wasn’t good enough. Not for his parents, anyway.
.
Sometimes, he wondered what would’ve happened if it had been another kid in his shoes— how they would’ve handled the small army of private tutors and the extra classes they kept being signed up for in the hopes of finding something they excelled in.
The pressure of constantly being compared to a once-in-a-generation prodigy, and always being found wanting.
Justin wasn’t afraid of hard work— but it was grating, even for him.
Really, just about the only silver lining to this ‘second life’ thing was his adorable little sister, Stephanie.
She, at least, looked up to him: her gap-toothed smile didn’t hold any expectations for anything other than the piggyback rides he regularly offered, and this time he didn’t even have to worry about medical bills, or—
Anyway.
.
His family and the Starks run in the same social circles, because of course they do.
Now that he’s getting older, Justin’s being dragged along to all of the fancy shindigs with his parents, and it’s only due to two lifetimes’ worth of self-control that keeps his polite smile from wavering when he’s introduced to the bane of his existence.
“Hi, my name’s Tony Stark.” The little brat said, and Justin bit back a sigh as he shook his hand.
.
...so, the Stark heir his father wanted to be his rival was a kid. Actually a kid, which just made this mess that much more pathetic because part of Justin had almost been starting to want to buy into this rivalry thing, but.
In this life, and the last one, they’d been an older sibling.
This time, despite everything, he could tell he was softer— he had never gone to bed hungry, never had to worry about the roof over his head, or being solely responsible for his younger sibling’s health and safety— but.
Old habits die hard.
.
Of course Justin’s father hears “the Starks are sending their seven-year-old heir to boarding school” and thinks “good idea, why didn’t I think of that?”
Of course.
Of fucking course.
Steph had cried when they’d packed their things, and for that alone, Justin would never forgive their parents.
.
The other brats at boarding school are more invested in the Hammer-Stark rivalry than they are.
...this was going to be a long 9 years, wasn’t it.
.
One of the perks to going to one of the most elite boarding schools in the world was the options. Certainly, Justin doubted other places offered skiing and fencing and over eleven languages in their electives.
Not that he was complaining: it was definitely a way to keep busy, certainly much better than the constant attempts at one-upmanship that came part and parcel with cramming the richest heirs, heiresses, and honest-to-goodness royalty in one place.
At the end of the day, though, they were all kids. Bratty, entitled little shits who were still at the stage where they constantly went “my father will hear about this!” and Justin had way better things to do with his time than engage in those petty little playground attempts at power plays.
So he dove into everything the school had to offer, bouncing from elective to elective like a ping pong ball, and trying not to think too hard as to why Spanish had come so easily to him, though he’d never studied it before— or why he’d felt a pang when the instructor had congratulated him on his accent.
.
Somewhere down the line, Justin...kinda made a name for himself? Apparently?
Ugh, they’d never understand these people.
.
Okay, so apparently he’d kinda become an older brother figure of sorts to the brats around here? Somehow? Even though he hadn’t exactly been planning on doing anything of the sort when he saw an underclassman struggling during practice, or stopped fights before they could start in the common room because he’d just sat down and didn’t have the patience to move all his stuff somewhere else to study.
Didn’t make sense to him, but apparently it was enough for some of the professors to write ‘good leadership skills’ on his transcripts, so whatever.
As a bonus, it made his old man happy. Not that Justin gave a damn about what he thought about him personally, but the increase in his ‘allowance’ [it was in the triple digits, like hell he was calling it that] was nice.
.
Among the hobbies Justin bounced between, there were a few that raised more eyebrows than others.
Knitting, for instance, was something some of the more annoying brats liked to laugh about. They eased up when they found out he sent the scarves and hats he made to his little sister, but... eh, whatever.
Sewing, too— apparently it was okay if it was framed as a Boy Scout-esque ‘know the basics so you can always be prepared!’ way, but the moment he did any sort of embroidery there went his respectability.
Well, at least nobody gave him a hard time about cooking. But then, his chilaquiles had some of these guys’ eyes watering just from the smell of it, so.
It still didn’t sit well with him sometimes— kinda like how puberty had Not Been Fun on a number on levels, but hey, if all else failed, he could just ignore it harder.
It hadn’t failed him yet.
.
Stephanie insisted on going to boarding school with him when she got to the age he’d been shipped off at.
It was...nice, having his little sister around again.
.
It was a good thing Justin had been okay with being designated the heir of Hammer Industries, because Steph was... exactly like he remembered her.
Cheerful, upbeat, startlingly devious and manipulative when she wanted to be, and just a tad bit spoiled.
...okay, so Justin had probably contributed a bit to that last one. In his defense, he’d been doing his best to shield his sister from the staggeringly high expectations he himself had to deal with, but look, he wanted at least one of them to have some semblance of a happy childhood, okay?
Goodness knew he hadn’t [not this time, nor the last].
.
Stephanie wasn’t interested in the family business, was more interested in pursuing a career in the arts.
Justin, of course, encouraged her wholeheartedly.
Their parents weren’t entirely happy about it, but...wasn’t like they had much to complain about. Not when Justin was always in the top ten of his year, not when the professors practically gushed over his responsibility and work ethic.
He was no Tony Stark, but he’d made a name for himself nonetheless.
.
“So, we’re supposed to be rivals?” The bane of his existence said once, at yet another gala. “Howard says so, anyway.”
“Seems that way,” Justin shrugged as they pilfered a flute from a nearby table, carefully not commenting on how he’d referred to his father by his first name. Talk about a strained relationship, right there.
“You’re not really acting like one.”
“Well,” Justin sipped at his flute before making a face when he discovered it was champagne and not apple cider like he’d hoped, “it’s nothing personal, just business. Healthy competition, y’know? Someone’s got to.”
Stark eyed him for a moment, before giving him a brilliant smile. “You know, I think I’d like that.”
.
Justin would never, ever understand these people.
.
In the time Justin Hammer got his degree in business, Tony Stark got several Ph.Ds.
Not that he envied him: the idea of being shoved into the limelight after losing his entire family? Hard pass.
.
For some reason, Tony Stark seemed to think they were friends.
Why.
Sure, Justin tried to be as cordial with him as he did with anyone else, but... how on Earth did that translate into being friends?
.
“You look at him like he’s a kid,” Steph says once, laughing, “you look at all of us that way, haven’t you noticed?”
“Well, to be fair—”
“You’re only a few years older than us, but you keep acting like you’re dad. More like a dad than our actual dad, sometimes,” her smile dropped for a moment, “don’t think I forgot that time he didn’t even call for your birthday.”
Justin made a face. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”
She sighed, then gave him a smile and a look he couldn’t decipher. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”
.
By the time Justin Hammer became the CEO of Hammer Industries, Tony Stark had held the same post in his company for over half a decade.
Yet...well, something weird was going on.
Maybe it was because Justin’d had more time to prepare for the cutthroat world that was the defense industry, but—
For some reason, he couldn’t help but think Tony was softer than he’d thought.
No-brainer contracts that would have been a cinch to broker, passed over simply because their distributors didn’t pass their incredibly high standards; buyers who wanted in, but whose past associations— very, very far in the past— meant SI didn’t even consider them.
Justin couldn’t understand it.
For someone in the industry, Stark’s morals were...unusual. Respectable, from one perspective, but remarkably naive from any self-respecting businessman who wanted to turn a profit.
He was fairly certain the only reason Stark Industries was considered number one in the sector was because of the constant influx of new designs; they just were turning down too many contracts for him to consider otherwise.
Sure, sometimes Hammer weapons found themselves in the wrong hands— much more often than Stark weapons, regrettably— but it was one of the hazards that came with the business. They’d both known it from the get-go; Stark weapons were considered the best for a reason, even though somewhere down the line, his company’d gotten a reputation for no-frills dependability and ruggedness to the point where unscrupulous individuals would do anything to get their hands on either. Wasn’t like there was anything they could do about it, not when money talked in ways laws didn’t.
Why Stark was so hung up over it, he just. Couldn’t wrap his head around.
.
Stark was proclaimed dead, and there was strong evidence to indicate the attackers had been using his guns.
...well, fuck.
.
“This is fine,” Justin muttered as his personal headache proceeded to come back from the dead only to say his company was going to stop doing the thing it was known for and making an ungodly mess in the stock market while at it, “it’s not like it affects me, anyway.”
.
Overnight, Hammer Industries became number one in the defense sector.
Justin was not a happy camper about the spotlight.
Even more so, when he had to take additional measures so his sister could continue enjoy the privacy she’d had after pursuing her dreams as an artist because the press didn’t want to leave well enough alone.
.
“You know, you could’ve given me a warning.” Justin scowled when he saw Tony at the next gala.
“You handled it well enough, didn’t you?”
Ugh.
His headache was back, and worst part was, the smile he got more than made up for it.
.
...and then I kinda ran out of steam.
tl;dr: MCU canon had Justin Hammer as a foil to Tony Stark, here their dynamic is more along the lines of Beethoven and Mozart [one really respecting the other’s genius, and working their butt off to get to that level of respectability and general acclaim].
in this AU, Stark Industries is kind of like Apple— very futuristic high-tech stuff, all the bells and whistles going on, etc, whereas Hammer Industries is the Nokia in this analogy: not fancy in the slightest but as close to indestructible as it gets.
#No Hero [And Not Made Of Stone]#No Hero [Downward Descending]#My writing#character study of sorts#fic idea#fic ideas#3 am musings#kinda#also#does it count if said 'fic idea' is over 2k long?
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A/N: I fought tooth and nail for this prompt so I hope you like it anon 👀
—
Dabi had left the Nightscape for several reasons.
For better scenery, for less screaming, for.. for a third reason, and to escape his crazy as fuck ex girlfriend who never seemed to get the point that they were done. She was a phase, she wasn’t the endgame.
Did she get that as he tossed her ass out of his apartment? No, she just came back with a lighter to set his home ablaze. But the woman didn't realize he controlled flames as easily as he did breathing.
So he left. He packed a few things, clothes and whatever currency the humans were using nowadays and went up to the world beyond. His father was one of the lords of the Nightscape, but he didn't need to worry about slipping past him, Dabi was thought to be dead for ages.
More like “Touya” had been dead for ages, but that was a clusterfuck of different issues he didn't care to unfold.
Living above ground had added perks beyond escaping a crazy ex and not being surrounded by shades and wraiths on the daily. He could take on the form of a true human, not the horned and fanged form he usually wore. His tail was gone, and his scars and staples were replaced with tattoos and piercings, but he grew used to his new form very quickly.
In the human world, humans had long since developed quirks, so his flames were not an oddity. He was thankful for them when he was questioned about how he got his scars, scars that would occasionally show through his glamour. It was an easy answer, his body couldn't handle his “quirk”. People gave him sad eyes and let him go.
Easy.
What he did struggle with was the occasional demon hunter nearly tracking him down, but he always managed to turn their eye the other way. Was it testing the line choosing to live so close to a school that trained demon hunters? Yes, but he was always good at magic, a simple glamour always did the trick.
When he scored a job at a coffee shop, he was pleased to see it was a simple transaction kind of job. No one would be able to ask him why his eyes were constantly rivaling the blue of his flames or why a phantom tail would lash out and occasionally spill the row of cups behind him.
He pegged it as a ghost haunting the shop, and so it became a little inside joke within the workers ranks and some of the shop's patrons.
Opening on a rainy Wednesday, he looks around the room before lighting the candles at the tables with a flame on his pinkie finger. Setting up the tables and scooting in the chairs, he walks back to the counter and sets up the machines when the door rings, signalling someone had entered.
“Welcome.” He rolls out in a soft purr, a habit from years of toying with his playthings as an incubus. Eventually he would get rid of the habit. “What can I get for you today?” He turns around.
You were soaking wet with a satchel above your head, you were shivering and looking at the coffee machines as if they were god sent.
You looked adorable.
He leans on the counter with a growing smile. “Wet out there isn't it?”
Your gaze snaps to him. Your eyes were a soft mahogany color, reminding him of a tree. It wasn't the most romantic thing he could come up with, but trees were also very rare to find in the Nightscape, so he supposed it was based on your point of view. “C-Coffee. Please.”
“Sure thing babe, what kind?”
“A mocha cappuccino with three shots of espresso.”
He quirks a brow as he types in your order. “Three?”
“I usually get five but my doctor told me I need to cut down.”
“How about you aim for two?”
“I don't think I’d survive that loss sir.”
He chuckles. “Sir?” He asks as he tells you the price of your drink, accepting your soggy wad of cash and giving you your change once the transaction was complete. “Well madam, your drink will be out shortly, take some napkins to dry up, they’re by the sugar.”
He spots a small blush on your face as you go to the condiments counter. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He prepares your drink as he hears you pluck a plethora of napkins out of their container. Small curses are all he hears as you open your bag, he hears the clicking of latches and the zipping of zippers. You scuttle past the counter and stop in front of the register again.
“Do you have a bathroom? My bag is drenched..”
He brings you your drink and tilts his head as he debates your question. A bathroom wouldn't solve the water issue, you just thought it would.
Dabi places your drink on the counter and holds his hand out. “I can dry your bag.”
You smile, adjusting your glasses in the mean time. “You have a wind quirk?”
“I'm not a blowdryer.” He grins. “But I can still dry it for you.”
You debate his words, looking down at your soggy satchel that was only getting worse as time passed. You hand him the bag with an accepting sigh. “Please.”
He takes your bag and lights his hands on fire. You nearly scream before he speaks up. “I can control my fire, this one won’t burn anything, it's just warm.”
“Oh.” You shut your mouth with a sheepish bow of your head. “Sorry.”
“It's alright.” He turns the bag in his hold, looking at the patches and bad attempts at embroidery on its edges. It was cute. The sad little attempts seemed to get better as they reached the top, which led him to believe this was your first attempt at embroidery.
What would you do if he had burnt it to ash?
His flames were highly destructive, and sometimes even he couldn't handle them.
Maybe he was being risky to test his powers like this. It had been ages since he last used his flames for something more than lighting a silly candle or a cigarette.
“So..”
Oh right, you were still there.
He looks at you and rotates the bag in his hold. “Yes?”
“Is it always this empty?”
“Only when you're here.” He winks.
“Rude.”
“Rude, sir.”
You laugh, and from that point on he's hooked to the sound.
-
Dabi used to like his job, now it was turning into something akin to gratitude. It allowed him to see you on most days.
He had learned quite a few things about you ever since that rainy day.
You were a teacher in training, specifically the nearby high school. You were aiming for Shiketsu and had a foot in the door with the vice principal taking notice of you during their mock trials. He didn't peg you for a demon hunter, but everyone had a hidden side to them. Hah. You had two pet birds named Sweet Pea and Darlington, you had a snake named Petra and were looking into getting a newt.
You loved coffee but hated it black, it needed sugar or chocolate of some kind because you couldn't stand bitter food. You loved spicy food even if you couldn't tolerate it, and you adored sour candies.
While you looked book smart, you were also street smart, and he was beginning to believe you might be vying for a spot as a demon slayer teacher. He just didn't know what your quirk was yet.
“Hey Dabi.” You chime in unison with the doorbell as you walk inside, this time with an umbrella to keep yourself out of the rain.
He leans on the counter with a grin. “Hey babe. What is it today? The usual?”
“Just a shot of espresso this time.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you sick?”
“Nope.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking back and forth on your heels with a huge smile on your face. “I got news.”
“Do tell.” He says as he starts preparing your shot.
“I got the job!” You squeal in excitement, arms coming out of hiding so you can clasp them in front of you. “Starting in the spring I’m going to be the new first year homeroom teacher!”
He genuinely smiles. So you wanted to ruin your happiness with a shot of liquid bitter? He didn't understand you sometimes. “I thought your celebration drink would be a sakura latte, not a shot of espresso.”
You wave your hand dismissively, already removing your wallet from your pocket. “I'll come back for one.”
“Two visits in one day? Is that a gift for you or for me?” He chuckles and hands you your espresso, taking your yen and entering it into the register.
You adjust the glasses on your face. "I figured I would grace your presence because you've been so humble as to fuel my caffeine addiction."
"It's my duty to make sure you don't kill some other sorry bastard with a coffee maker."
Your eyes flash green for a split second, and in that moment he has to keep from reeling back. Did he really see that?
The cups behind him tumble to the ground.
His tail had appeared in his brief moment of shock.
You cock your head to the side. "What happened?"
He kneels and collects the cups. "The shop's ghost. Don't mind it."
"I thought I saw a-"
"How about I give you the latte now? On me." He interrupts you mid sentence, standing up with the cups in his arms.
The blush on your face was one of his favorite sights in the human world.
"You don't have to Dabi."
"It's just a drink." He waves you along to one of the booths. "Sit, it'll be ready soon."
You take your shot of espresso and go to the booth he had motioned you to.
The way you scrunched your nose in disgust as you drank your shot was also one of his new favorite sights.
Maybe it was just you.
--
After you had gotten your job at Shiketsu, you were around every morning to prepare for the day. Sometimes you would come by for lunch, unfortunately he clocked out on those days, but sometimes he would make sure he was in the area just to catch you off-guard. Those days he spent his lunch with you, and you got to tell him stories about your students.
It was one of your lunch breaks when hell came to toll.
His eyes were trained on you as you spoke, you were talking about a girl who wielded fire similar to him when the bell of the cafe rang.
The sound resonated through him, and in that moment he knew who was at the door.
What was at the door.
His glamour of his new human form nearly drops as he hears a woman's voice ask from the counter of the cafe.
“Is Dabi here?” She croons in a sickly sweet voice he hadn't heard in nearly a year. He doesn't hear his coworkers' response but he feels the air fill with the flowery scent of her. He grits his teeth to keep his fangs from showing through as he hears her heels click against the ground.
You had stopped your explanation and looked behind him, adjusting your glasses as you did so. “You're looking for Dabi?”
“I am, what a sweet peach you've got here Dabi~ I didn't know you still had it in you to snag such a cutie, your charms must still be working even in this sad form.” He feels her hand on his shoulder, her fingernails drumming along the stitching of his jacket. “Did you catch her, or did she come crawling to you?”
He knows he has to speak up, before she says another word, but his fangs were already piercing the inside of his lip as his glamour slipped.
He looks at you with the most apologetic gaze he can muster. Grabbing his coffee, he lifts it to his mouth to hide his fangs and he speaks. “Excuse me.” He stands up and slams the cup on the table, grabbing the wrist of the woman behind him and dragging her out of the shop and into the closest alleyway.
He slams her against the wall with her arm pinned above her head. His glamour drops completely, his scars and horns bared for the world to see as he growls with rage. “You!”
The succubus in front of him smiles coyly, dragging a finger across his scars and the staples holding his mouth together. “Aren't you happy to see me? To see one of your own again?”
“No. What do you want?”
She plays at pulling on one of the staples but is stopped as he pins her other hand up as well. The succubus sighs and turns her head, “I come see you and all I get is this. And seeing you with a little human.” She peers at him with violet eyes. “Don't tell me you've gone soft Dabi. She’s human, she’ll die just like a human too.”
He hadn't let that thought slip into his mind and wasn't planning on starting to. He tightens his grip on her wrists. “We broke up, I made that clear.” A feral grin forms on his face, pulling at the staples on his face. “I told you, if you try me again, I’ll kill you.”
“I heard you had a human now. We all heard.” She whispers, her eyes glowing in the dark of the alley. “They know Dabi.”
His grip falters.
Shit.
Shit. Shit Shit-
He lets go of her wrists and he paces in the alleyway, flames licking at his face as his emotions spiralled.
“They need your power, but you’re squandering it here with a girl who will die before you know it. While you're full of youth, she will be an old crone with nothing but a coffin awaiting her.” She didn't sound bothered at all as she rubs her wrists. “Honestly Dabi, you were the one that taught me never to fall for a human. They’re too brittle, their life essence too weak.”
He did teach her. He taught her to keep her heart shut and to leave it open only for him. He taught her a little too well, as she now believed she had rights to him.
But he never taught himself as well as he did her.
He fell for you bad, and you were mortal.
“Anyway, I was told one of two things. Either bring you back with me, or expose you so you have no other choice but to return.”
He looks back at her, his rage quelled only by the dread that was now spiralling in him. “You will do no such thing!” He roars, his flames igniting and setting him ablaze. “If you dare go near her-”
The succubus’s body transforms into mist starting from her feet then rising to her waist. She puts a finger to her lips. “I’ll be back in three days. If you don't do it, I will.”
She was gone. Leaving him alone in the alley with nothing but flames that wouldn't stop burning.
-
Dabi spent the next two days trying to find ways to tell you, but with each scenario came the same question.
What would you do if you knew he was a demon? You worked at a school that trained demon slayers- what other option for you would there be if not to turn him in? It was your duty to turn in any demon that showed up at your door, and here you were having coffee with him.
He couldn't do it.
On the third day, it was raining, just like the day he met you.
He hated the mist that had surrounded the shop, reminding him of the succubus and her promise.
Three days.
He had to tell you.
But why was it so damn hard to do? He used to be cold and calculated, having his fun toying with human emotions and killing without regret. He had no empathy, no sympathy for the lives he ruined.
But you were kind. So incredibly kind.
He rests his head on the counter as the door opens. He scents you in the air before you even step through, the smell of milk and honey wafting in the air as you approach the counter.
He had to tell you.
“Morning Dabi!” You cheer as you fold up your umbrella. “A mocha cappuccino with two shots of espresso please!”
He looks up and smiles crookedly. “Finally down to two?”
“I figured I would finally listen to you.”
“That's my girl.” He chuckles as he grabs a cup and prepares your drink. His hands were shaking, but he knew what he had to do.
When your drink was ready and paid for, Dabi keeps his hand on the cup as you take it from him, your hand overlapping his. You look at him with curious eyes behind your wide rimmed glasses. “Dabi? What’s wrong?”
“If I told you I was a bad man, what would you do?”
You narrow your eyes, but keep your hand over his. “Stealing a croissant from the place you work at isn't evil Dabi-”
“Not that.” He laughs but it's noticeably strained. “Not that.” He looks you in the eyes, greedily taking in the sight of you, for perhaps the last time. “What if I told you I was a bad man, who did horrible things. Whose caused terrible things.”
Your hand tightens around his, he feels the tremors in your body before you still.
“I would tell you I know better than to judge you for what you've done, and tell you that I judge you for who you are now. Does that forgive you of what you've done or what you've caused? No. But I judge what I see. And I see a good man.”
He lets out a shaky breath as his glamor drops, revealing his true form of scars and fangs and horns. His flames curl around him as he whispers. “What if I'm not a man?”
You jump back, hands flying to your glasses before they could tumble off of your face. You stare at him with your jaw hanging.
He looks at the coffee still in his grasp. At the scars covering his body.
He knew it.
He puts down the cup.
He knew it.
Clapping comes from the corner of the room where the succubus has taken form, her body still halfway between corporal and mist. She smiles, showing off her sharpened canines. “Bravo Dabi, I almost thought I’d have to do it myself.”
You shut your mouth and look at the succubus. “You're from before-”
“I am.” She purrs. “And I’m here to take Dabi home. Shigaraki will be happy to see his lieutenant again.”
Dabi burns away his apron, leaving him in his normal attire, the stitches of his black coat catching his eye. Memories of your embroidered bag slip through his mind, though are soon flushed out entirely when he hears the shattering of tables as a high pitched shriek comes from the mist succubus.
He phases through the counter in a wall of heatless flame as he sees you covering your ears.
The shriek had destroyed the tables and windows turning them into scrap, and had shattered your glasses. Blood was running down your ears from between your hands.
He stands between you and the succubus, his arms lit with powerful blue flames. “This wasn't part of the deal!”
“Not our deal. Shigaraki doesn't want you to have any temptations for returning to the human world. We need your girl gone for good.” She grins fiendishly. “She will never grow old, isn't that the best gift you could receive?”
“Dabi-” You call out from behind him.
“Stay back!” He yells at you. “Get out of here!” But he knew if you went into the rain outside, you would be done for. The succubus would be able to drown you where you stood.
Her body turns to pure water as she rushes at him. With her power boosted by the rain that washed in through the broken windows, all he could do was send wave after wave of fire to evaporate the water.
But what was evaporation if not mist?
He was fighting a losing battle as he backed up until he finally reached you. He covers you with his body as he puts up a wall of flame.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers to you as his flames are soon put out. “I’m sorry.”
You lift your hands to his face, eyes still closed, and pull him in, pressing your forehead against his.
“Don't be sorry for the things you can't control.” You whisper in return.
The succubus’s body turns corporal from the waist up. She coos. “How sweet, one last goodbye.”
You press a kiss to his lips.
“Don't open your eyes.” You murmur against his lips before letting go of his face and turning around to look at the succubus.
He closes his eyes, prepared to hear you scream in pain, prepared to hear your body drop to the ground.
But all he hears is the loud boom of thunder from outside and the crackle of rock breaking.
Rock?
He opens his eyes and sees you on your knees in front of a marble statue of the succubus.
His eyes widen as he sees you stand up. From the reflection of the marble, he can see your eyes flashing green.
“Did I ever tell you my mother was a demon?” You ask as you kneel and pick up your eyeglass frames from the floor. “She called herself Medusa. Silly, huh? My dad was human though, and well, as you know, they had me..” You turn around, your eyes now closed. “I guess you can say my quirk is having a very strange lineage.”
Dabi gets to his feet and runs at you, barreling into you with his arms swiftly wrapping around you.
You return the hug, your face nuzzled into his chest.
“So.. you're not mortal?” He says quietly, as if the good luck that had been shone upon the both of you would wither out.
“I'm not. It's my hundred and twenty-fourth this year.” You look up from his hold, he could see the faint glow of green from under your eyelashes. “Will you be there?”
He tightens his hold and presses his lips against yours.
“As if I'd ever leave.”
#bnha#mha#bnha x reader#mha x reader#my hero academia#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia#bnha dabi#boku no hero academia dabi#bnha dabi x reader#mha dabi x reader#my hero academia dabi x reader#dabi x reader#touya x reader#- Luca#I snatched this prompt and I will fistfight Jesus all over again#- beta Andro#wHo aPParEntly cAnt ReAd
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WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - Prologue (Vergil x Nero's Mother)
Summary: Turmoil has engulfed the small Island of Fortuna, shaken now more than ever by a never-ending civil war opposing the religious Order of the Sword to a group of rebels named the Guard of Sparda.
As he tries to unveil his father's secret past and achieve some hidden dark purpose, Vergil crosses path with Elissa, a young lady whose thirst for vengeance and blood is as red as the dress she's wearing.
He doesn't want to care and he especially doesn't want to get involved but you don't choose your fate in Fortuna.
That's the story Nero is about to discover.
Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda's past
Author’s note: This is one hell of an ambitious project I put myself into, but I hope you will follow me in this journey which is basically another fan fiction about Vergil and Nero's mother. Probably not the best (I've read some prreeety good ones) but one that should be (hopefully) different from what was previously posted.I worked a lot on this story, made a lot of research and used many artistic references that I catalogued at the end of each chapter for the curious ones among you.
Since English is not my mother tongue, feel free to let me know if there's any grammar mistake or if some sentences don't make any sense.
Anyway, enjoy your reading.
In twenty-five years, Aifric’s Alehouse hadn’t changed even just a tiny bit. Same hefty old furniture. Same mucky walls and filthy floor covered in layers of dry alcohol that stick your shoes to the wooden slats each time you take a step. Same lamentable drunkards in search of more alcohol to drown their sorrows in, their arms around women that would pretend to adore them for a night in exchange for a bit of money. And, now that Vergil dared breathe a little, same foul stench of humidity, staleness and sweat, typical of this kind of underground bars from the no-go areas of the Castle Town of Fortuna. And the music … Don’t let him think about the music.
Never thought he would come back here one day.
His firm gloved hand grabbed the backrest of a wobbly stool that scratched the old wooden floor with an unpleasant creak as he pulled it to sit on it, revealing his presence to the brown-skinned man sipping his beer in silence next to him, his defeated pockmarked face hidden under a thick dirty white cloak that hadn’t been washed in probably years and that had lost almost all its glorious golden embroideries.
Vergil eyed at him for a second, the same way the Moor had eyed at him when, more than two decades ago, he had sit on this very same stool, his then young frame hidden under a cloak similar to his and yet less odorous, a young wanderer looking for stories and answers. Strange how things seems to move in circle.
“You’re too late. You know that?” The man’s voice was thickly and hoarse, due to the long years of alcohol abuse and contempt towards the world, towards that silver-haired ghost back from a distant past but especially towards himself. “Twenty-five fucking years too late to be more precise.” He got no answer to that reproach, not a word, just a nod and a pregnant silence that made him scoff. But his laugh, once so hearty and alive, held today nothing but melancholy and despise. “But at least she was right. You did come back.”
Vergil peeped at the man again from the corner of his icy blue eyes, longer this time, but still with that eternal impassibility he was known for, hiding his slight surprise and his judgemental thoughts he knew deep down he shouldn’t have. But the barfly next to him was nothing like the man he had met years ago. This man was just the broken shadow of the one everyone in Fortuna once called Adel the Honourable¹ , Captain of the Guard of Sparda.
“What the fuck are you doing here … Vergil?” He spat on his name, literally, not caring about what the solemn Son of Sparda would think of him, would do to him. He spat to show him his disgust, his hatred, even though he knew that a bit of saliva wasn’t enough to show the extent of his feelings.
“Where is she?” Vergil asked with a calm voice that made Adel grimace (that voice was as nasally and annoying as he remembered) and finally glare at him, allowing Vergil to see how the years and the pain had marked and scared his once-handsome face. “You got some nerve to ask that now.”
“ I need to see her.”Adel firmly hit the counter with his empty glass before turning around to stare at Vergil, giving him a long disdainful look he thought he could only give himself. “Sure, I’ll bring you to her. But you might want to give me that damn sword of yours so that I shove it deep in your stone-cold heart first.” Vergil smirked. This was way too reminiscent of old foolish squabbles he once found very amusing … though quite pathetic and most of the time one-sided.
“Why don’t you use that crossbow² of yours instead?” The taunt wasn’t meant to defy him if one could read through Vergil’s phlegmatic voice. But the Moor³ interpreted it that way and yet refused to react to it, knowing how vain it would be.
“I don’t have it anymore.” Adel opened his cloak to reveal a leather sling with no weapon attached to it. “I don’t have anything anymore. And we know full well that it wouldn’t have done shit to you.”
“Trust me, Adel. I know what it’s like to lose everything.” Was it an attempt at sounding
sympathetic? Probably. After all, Vergil still felt somewhat confused by the occasional waves of humanity surging up from inside of him.
“Do you?” He laughed with bitterness, not believing him for one second. “Bullshit! And you know why? Cause you never had anything!”
If Vergil took this as a personal attack he didn’t let his body show it, but he nevertheless let out one simple sentence, a boast he knew would displease the brown-skinned man, a display of his pride and superiority he always thought he had over that mere human. “I had her.”
Quite expectedly, Adel jumped from his stool and before falling back against the bar, tried to grab Vergil by his blue collar. But it looked too pathetic and clumsy to be considered menacing or dangerous. “Fucking stop talking about her!” He pointed his finger at him in defiance while tears formed in his dull black eyes that had long lost their charming spark. “She fucking loved you! She loved you so damn much and you never cared, not a damn second. So don’t come to me with all your ceremony and shit, pretending you care now?” He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes with his fists, a gesture that only made Vergil frown. How low had that man sunk! And how wrong he was.
“Nero needs to know.” The silver-haired man finally said, not very willing to continue this conversation due to a growing lack of patience. “He needs to know about his mother.”There was a new brief silence that could only be filled with glasses clinking, noisy hubbub and prostitutes giggles. Both men gauged each other, wondering who should talk first and what to say after the name of the boy the woman they both loved had given birth to was brought into the discussion.
“So you finally know.” The Moor finally said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How does it feel?” Vergil didn’t want to talk about his feelings, especially not with a man he hadn’t seen in years and that would be too eager to judge him. His feelings were his to ponder and only his.
“My feelings are none of your concern.” The brevity of Vergil’s sentences was annoying to Adel who had almost forgotten how it was to have a conversation with the stoic Son of Sparda. And when some people would call it introversion he would call it self-importance, despicable self-importance.
“Do you ever think of her?”
New intended silence. But yes, there were times when Vergil did think of her because that’s what happens when someone as special as her shares even just a tiny bit of his life. He thought of her when he was at his best and when he was at his lowest. And he had been thinking of her even more lately, each time he would look at Nero or think of him, each time he would remember his journey in Fortuna. She was a part of his past he would never be able to cast away. But again, none of Adel’s business. “Look, you don’t need to talk to me about her. Just tell Nero. I bet you know how to find him.”Glad to finally leave, Vergil stood up and dusted his long dark coat he felt had been soiled by such a dirty place. But right after he turned around to walk away, his old acquaintance spoke again with disarming heartfelt honesty. “It feels like hell to me.” Vergil stopped and slightly looked back at him from the corner of his eyes, at his defeated look staring deep in his empty glass again. “Like fucking hell actually. Seeing that kid of yours growing up to be just like her but at the same time just like you right under my nose. That smug smirk he got from you on the lips he inherited from her. Everything about that child makes me want to vomit or plug my eyes out because that makes me realise all I lost, all I could have had if you had never stepped a foot in Fortuna. You took her away from me, away from everyone, and when you finally got out from my life, you dared leave behind you a living reminder of your victory over me to torture me for the rest of my miserable days.” Vergil stood still, withstanding the man’s rancour without batting an eyelash.
“The fact you considered her love a victory maybe is the reason why you
never had her.” Vergil replied and before pushing the double-leaf door of the bar, waited for an instant as if he was expecting something to come in, but Adel was stubborn and not keen on accepting defeat. “You took her away from your son!” He shouted and smiled when Vergil froze again on his way out.
“ If that’s true, go tell him that then.”
***
Nico was pissed. Nero could tell it by the way she was furiously trying to fix the neon blue sign of their van. But what could he do about it? It wasn’t his fault if a starving empusa had decided to snack on the E while Nico was parked waiting for her friend to come back from his demon ass kicking routine. “D vil May Cry” Nero read out loud with a pout. “I don’t know, Nico. Works for me.” And yet, he had a feeling being angry because of a damn light was just a pretext to let out some pent up frustration due to god knew what.
“Really? Is that how you gonna treat your family heritage now?” The black-haired woman harrumphed, threatening to hit her friend with a monkey wrench. “Is that how you gonna treat my precious Minotaurus after all he did for ya? After he followed you right into that hellish ficus?”
“Qliphoth.” He corrected with a smile.
“Yeah whatever.” Nero had a brief laugh but eventually shrugged, not seeing the problem as he read the neon sign on the van again. “The E doesn’t light up anymore. So what? We still know it’s Devil May Cry.”
“When your deadbeat dad tore your arm out from its socket, didn’t I give ya a new one?”
Nero grumbled, not finding the comparison funny or admissible. “That’s not the same! You can’t compare my arm to a damn neon letter. I needed my arm!”
“And Devil May Cry needs its E! So stop complainin’ and pass me the stillson.” She ordered as she kept on adjusting the colourful wires hidden in the dented bodywork of the van. Nero sighed but handed her the tool anyway. “I thought you were tired of being my pet mechanic.”
“ I am but like I said, I can’t let you treat my baby like that.”
And then, he dared say it. “Seriously. I thought you would be busy reading those new files you found in your father’s old stuff? You didn’t say anything about what they were.” And, as Nico dropped the wrench on the hood, he immediately knew he maybe shouldn’t have asked that.
“Cause they were not interesting. Just pieces of diaries he wrote when he was young, explainin’ how he started working for the Order and why he didn’t want me or my mother in his life anymore.” Nero frowned, not believing Nico for an instant. Her sentence didn’t make any sense to him cause he was sure any child who had grown up without a parent would be even just a tiny bit interested in knowing who they were or what they did.
He knew he was.
God! What he would give to know even a just of small piece of information about his mother, about who she was, how she looked like. But unfortunately for him, the only person who had all the answers to his questions was never prompt to give them, acting more like a vault than a chatterbox. “And that doesn’t interest you? Raaah come on, Nico!” He clicked his tongue.
“I’m interested in his work. Nothing else. I couldn’t care less about his adventure with that other chick which is FYI apparently one of the reason why that asshole left my mother and me.”
“ You father left your mother for someone else?” Nico glared at Nero, catching a judgment in his voice that never was there.
“ Well I least I know why my father left my mother… No, actually, I know my mum, period.” Nero hadn’t heard that kind of words in years but the burn was as painful as he remembered. How many times he had heard the kids in Fortuna disrespecting him, disrespecting his mother, claiming she was a prostitute⁴ from the ill repute places of Fortuna. How many horrors he had to listen to. And how many punches he had received, and given, because of them. “Damn! I’m sorry, Nero. I didn’t mean.” Nico declared, horrified by her unusual behaviour and by the sudden sadness Nero tried to conceal in his blue eyes.
“Forget it. I’m used to it.” He gestured her to let go and went rummaging in the toolbox for no particular reason but to occupy his mind with something else. But Nico wasn’t willing to end their conversation like that, the feeling of guilt eating at her. “I’m sure your mother was someone fantastic, Nero.” She had a soft comforting smile.
“I mean, she had to be, you know … to stand your father.”
Nero chuckled but there was still that hint of misery, that very particular misery he only felt when thinking of his mother. A mix of bitterness, void and love. “Maybe she never really had to stand him. Maybe she was … a prostitute like everybody said.” Nico frowned; refusing to believe Nero would go for such bullshit. Didn’t he know how close-minded and rumour-hungry the people in Fortuna were?
“Nah, I don’t think so.” She declared as she funnily wrinkled her nose. “No money in the world would be enough to accept to spend a night with your dad. Your mother had to veeeery nice and patient and ooooh so in love with him.” Nero spared a glance at Nico, deeply moved by her attempt at comforting him and hoping she was right. “Damn, I beg that poor woman was a saint, ‘cause Vergil might look yummy to most people’s standards but he ain’t fun.” Her lips pinched together, she had a sort of deep serious frown that wrinkled her entire forehead, a somewhat amusing grimace Nero was sure was meant to emulate his father characteristic impenetrability. She kinda nailed it but …
“ Did you just say my father looks yummy?” Nero asked, quite disgusted. A crush on Lady, that he could get, but on his father … It made him shiver and want to throw up.
“Huh, to most people standards!” She repeating, clapping her hands between each syllables. “I’m not most people.” Nero’s eyes widened when he heard familiar slow and steady footsteps coming from behind the door of the garage. “I mean, do you really think I could feel even just a tiny bit attracted to ‘Power! I need more power!’?” She imitated with a cavernous voice and Nero tried not to laugh. But it wasn’t Nico’s new impersonation of Vergil that was making him want to do so. It was actually his father standing on top of the stairs, stoic and still like a marble statue staring impassibly at Nico making a fool of him. Maybe he should warn her of his presence. Yes, maybe he should.
He timidly pointed at his father standing right behind her; still unsure he wanted this scene to stop. But he couldn’t wait to see Nico’s face when she would notice Vergil. And oh god, how priceless it was.
Nico was an intrepid, loud and lovely person but when her dark eyes took a small glance of Vergil, she froze and cleared her throat, definitely uncomfortable and … yeah a tiny bit scared. “But it has its charm. You’ve got some charm. That’s undeniable.” She rectified, looking at Vergil who eventually nodded, a faint smile on his face that meant more ‘yeah right’ than ‘how funny’ in Vergil language. He didn’t find this funny at all.
“Good evening to you too, Nicoletta. Nero.” He nodded once again, casting his aura of solemnity all over the garage.
“Nico. Just Nico … nevermind.” Nico mumbled in a whisper that Vergil heard but chose to ignore. Nicknames were not his thing… They had never been his thing.He went down the stairs, his hand resting on the hilt of his precious Yamato as always and looked at the van with a new frown. “You two are busy working on some repairs, perhaps.” He asked in an effort to be as familial as possible, something that wasn’t his forte at all. It made the two friends exchange a curious glance.
“ Yes … I mean, no, we were done.” Nero replied, wondering what his father was doing here. After all, unexpected visits were not in Vergil’s habits.
“ No, we were not. Gotta fix that E, remember?” Nico tapped at the letter with insistence.
“ That again?” The young man sighed. “Is Dante here?” That could explain Vergil’s presence in Fortuna. But as 90% of the time – or more – the Son of Sparda evicted an answer, changing the subject – or ignoring it – with a destabilizing yet infuriating indifference.
“ Miss Goldstein is right, a E is important.” He spoke, his icy blue eyes looking towards a distant past, towards memories he held in his heart he was rediscovering more and more with each day spent with his family, with his son.
“ Thank you! See, I told you!” Nico
shouted, proud to be right.
“ What are you doing here?” Nero finally questioned, impatient to finally know the truth behind his father’s presence. “I was in Fortuna visiting an old acquaintance.” Vergil weighed his words with smoothness as he paced in the garage looking at his surroundings without no real interest in them.
“ You … got acquaintances?” The slight frown of disbelief on Nero’s face made him suddenly look so much like his father but Vergil didn’t notice, too busy staring at the extinguished E that looked so dull surrounded by such neon blue lights when it should have shone as brightly as them if not more. “Hopefully, he should visit you soon.”
“ Wait! What? Why?” Nero always saw his father as an impenetrable mystery, even when he was just V, but right now he couldn’t tolerate him being so evasive.
“To give you the answers you want.” And he couldn’t not tolerate him being a stolid piece of shit either. “About my mother?” Or a mute one. But with Vergil, silence often meant a lot. “Hey! You can’t just leave me like that!” Nero caught his father’s right arm with a violent strength, a vision that stirred a new one, an old one, one Vergil regretted. “Plus, why would you send a stranger in my house to talk to me about my mother? Why don’t you do it yourself?” God! If she knew what he had done to their son. What would she say? What would she do? “Silence. I thought so. You don’t even have the courage to tell me her name so why should I expect more from you.” In his lifetime, only a few persons had been able to defeat Vergil, one of them being his son. So, after looking down at his boots for a second, he walked away, not keen on riling up Nero even more, not today.“Elissa.⁵” The name, left unpronounced for so many years, burnt Vergil's tongue when each blazing letter, probably angry to have been reduced to dormant embers for so long, managed to escape the barrier of his tight lips. But Vergil welcomed this fiery pain without blinking and even dared say it again, embracing the ignition once more with a soft melancholic smile. He was part demon. Fire couldn't hurt him. So why being afraid of it? “Your mother’s name was Elissa.” Plus there was no danger in saying her name, just liberation. It was a beautiful name, after all. And for a second, he felt like his young self again. “Now fix it, would you?”
That E meant a lot to Vergil.
REFERENCES:
¹ Adel The Honourable: Adel is a Persian name derived from the Arabic عَدَلَ meaning "to act justly". I added the title "the Honourable" to reinforce the idea his character was made to be fair, honest and just. Adel also belongs to the House of Montefeltro, a name you will discover later.
² crossbow: I intended to give Adel a simple bow as it is the weapon of righteousness (ndlr: Robin Hood) but then I chose to give him a crossbow because I thought the addition of the word "cross" was giving a religious connotation that suited his character. The fact that he lost the weapon is of course meaningful.
³ The Moor: reference to Shakespeare's Othello.
⁴ claiming she was a prostitute: This idea of Nero's mother being a prostitute was directly taken from Devil May Cry: Deadly Fortune. In the novel, we learn that Nero was often bullied by the other kids claiming his mother was a whore.
⁵ Elissa: Elissa is the other name that was given to Dido, first queen of Carthage and lover of the demi-god Aeneas, in Virgil's Aeneid.
Her name is composed of the Punic reflex of "El-" meaning "god", and "‐issa" that means "fire", hence why her name burns Vergil's lips when he says it. Her name carrying the word "fire" also echoes the red colour of her dress and her hair as well as her affiliation to the House of Minos you will read about later. In a nutshell, this girl is on fire! ;-)
#devil may cry#devil may cry fanfiction#vergil#nero's mother#vergil x nero's mother#vergil fanfiction
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Hobbies and Holidays, Or The Halloween Fic
Yes, I know it’s June. I just like Halloween, man. Yuu’s quiet dedication to the finest of holidays sours when confronted with assholes who fuck around for clout.
Contains coarse language, attempted violence, sexuality and nerds being nerds. As always, if you enjoyed it or have any questions, let me know! I like talking with people.
~*~*~*~
"What's cooking?" Ace, cheery as could be, walked his way up towards your set up on the Ramshackle front lawn. "Is it curry? I hope it's curry."
"You might not want to stand downwind." You poked at the bubbling mess on the propane stove, sweat rolling down your back. A beautiful August day, perfect for your project. This sure as hell wasn't something you wanted to do indoors.
"Whaddya mean by that?" The breeze shifted towards him, and he turned an impressive shade of green, stumbling back with his nose covered. "What's in there?"
"Mice. I told you to keep upwind." You went in with a hand strainer, and scooped a pile of tiny bones onto a ratty towel.
"Why are you boiling mice?"
You mirrored his are-you-goddamned-stupid-or-something face back at him. "I wanted the bones. I went to Sam, but he said he's not allowed to order in dermestid beetles after last time, so I gotta do it the old-fashioned way."
"That's absolutely disgusting,” her said, the disgust and disbelief plain on his face.
"Don't we all know. Grimm fucked right off when the ghosts showed me the mouse graveyard."
"And your first thought at a pile of rotten mice was 'ooo, free bones' like some kinda crazy necromancer?"
"Yup." You scooped out another pile of bones. If you left them in there too long, they'd simply dissolve like in a cooked fish. As it was, you'd have to find a way to strengthen them. Maybe dip them in resin?
"Why am I your friend, again?"
"Because you feel responsible for me."
"Yeah. And you're fun when you aren't being weird and doing shit like taking cemetery pictures."
"I'll stop taking the pictures when I stop finding good grave iconography."
"Yeah, weird. I'm going to leave you to be a gross little maggot by yourself today."
"I'm not eating them."
"They're stewing in a pot."
"To get the meat off!"
"Yeah, whatever. See you at supper. I hope you don't stink."
"We'll find out, won't we?" you muttered, sotto voce, but he was already gone.
~*~*~*~
It was a beautiful day in September, and you heard him far before he knew you had. When you turned to look at Idia, floss wound around your fingers, he started. "Is my stealth that bad?"
You gave him the ghost of a smile. "You're not as quiet as you think you are." He hasn't cottoned on that you can hear what's in his headphones, if they aren't set just right on his head, and you aren't about to tell him. The face he makes when you pick him out so easily was too good to lose.
He nodded, fidgeted, looked at the spread on the table. "What are you doing?"
"Well, she's got to dry. So I'm working on this pattern until the top coat goes on."
'She' was a currently eyeless, disembodied head, that you'd picked up along with her body in a second hand store for a pittance. You'd unstrung her, scrubbed her clean, and now were putting on a face to match her sweet if imperious expression, a bratty princess of a girl in miniature. You hadn't realized you'd liked dolls until you'd seen her. But, when you had, your breath fled your throat in the same way it had only once since coming here.
He looked, but knew better than to touch. He did a little bit of craft work himself, mostly model painting, and wasn't about to muss your hard work. "She's... nice?" He didn't quite get the appeal, despite having two vinyl dolls you knew of stowed carefully in their packages under his bed. When you'd asked, he just muttered that they were anime characters and didn't come out except for photos because something something collectibles something resale value. Boys.
"I could do better. But it's enough. Thank you for letting me borrow the painting set up."
"Y... welcome." He squinted at the embroidery, finally noticing something. "Are those bones?"
In the center of each withered, poisonous blossom in your embroidery hoop, you'd stitched a tiny vertebra to serve as the center. "Yeah?"
"Why?"
"Why not?"
He wasn't ready to push it any further. "If you want..." He hesitated, and stumbled, and you waited until he just brought out his tablet to tap it out on a screen instead. "You can come do that in Board Game Club, if you want. There's a window. Azul shouldn't mind."
"I'll join you after I gear up and put the sealant on her. Thank you for inviting me." You gave him your best, most dazzling smile. "You know how much I like when you include me in your stuff. I know it's not always easy for you; how shy you are and all."
He squeaked and looked away, and you continued. "I should be there in about an hour. Make sure Azul doesn't keep up trying to wager me in chess. I can't fucking play worth a damn and he knows it."
He smirked. "He likes easy marks. Maybe try and get goo-"
You flicked a bone at him, and it hit him square on the nose as he yelped.
~*~*~*~
Welcome, October. Coolness and colour, a certain something on the breeze that felt like a home you'd never let go. Even if it hadn't quite hit the dorms the same way as they main area of the school. (Those little fairies that ran the weather machine didn't seem to believe in seasons for the dorms, or perhaps Crowley gave them a chewing out after the spring?) In amongst the Heartslabyul roses, you'd think it was still summer, and you weren't one to let a day of warmth go.
"Oh, in this chapel of ritual, smells of dead human sacrifices from the altar..."
"Stop that."
You looked up at Riddle, who'd found you in your secluded corner. "Why?"
"You can't sing and the lyrics are awful."
"Is there a rule against that?"
He nodded. "The queen gets to approve all music."
"Ah, of course, mine rosen liege. My petaled monarch. Emperor Rosa." A collar appeared on your neck, and you did not slow down. "Cardiac Sovereign. Dauphine De la Coeur. I can do this all day, Riddle; that collar don't do shit cause I ain't magic."
The colour was high on his cheeks. "Is it your job to annoy me?"
"Oh, you got me. I wake up and spend every moment thinking 'How do I best piss off Riddle Roseheart? How about I stand outside his door and blast nightcore from a boombox?' "
He narrowed his eyes at you. "Stop joking."
You laughed. "Yeah. I only do that with Shoenheit."
That managed to get a bit of a smile out of him. "Why are you being a pest over here, and not at your own dorm?"
"I'm just doing crafts, man."
"While sitting on the grass."
"Yeah, man. Won't be any grass to sit on soon enough. Made sure to not be on the croquet grounds or anything."
He looked at the mess of foam and ribbon around you. "What are you even doing?"
You looked down, and back up at him. "Crafts?"
"More specifically, before I kick you out for being awful."
You held up a padded frame, that you were carefully wrapping a satin ribbon around the many bars of it. "What does that look like?"
He just glared instead of admitting he didn't know, so you got to your feet and held the frame over your chest, the shape clarifying by being pressed over what it mimicked. "It's ribs. It'll tie on with more ribbon. Might put beads and stuff on it too."
He looked for a beat before nodding. "For later this month?"
"Indeed."
"... Continue, then. But be quiet!"
He was nice enough to remove the collar before he left, but not nice enough to leave it off as soon as you resumed singing to yourself once you'd assumed he was out of earshot.
~*~*~*~
"Hey, Lil?”
"Yeah?"
You looked over the riot of cheery pumpkins and Far East aesthetics that had sprung from your lawn. "You should've asked me, first."
Lil smiled at you. "But then you would have said no."
"I wouldn't have. But," you guestured to the papier mache dragon, "Really, my dude? This isn't what I would have picked at all. I'm not going to match."
"You're working on a costume? Already?" He lit up. "What's it going to be?"
"You'll see."
"Do I get a costume?"
You looked down at your not-cat. "Grimm, I didn't think you'd want one."
"I do now!" He scrambled to your shoulder and tugged at your hair, wailing. "Costume! Costume!"
You rolled your eyes. "Stop that, before I sell you to Lil to practice recipes on."
~*~*~*~
Grimm was no help. He changed his mind every few minutes on what he wanted. At least your incorporeal roommates were a sweet help, finally gearing him up with a hat by the beginning of the week.
"Do you still need one, Yuu?" The middling ghost, the one neither plump nor skeletal, seemed concerned.
"No, babe. I've been working on this since..." August, you think. "I'm good. I hope I can get a week out of it. I could at least do a different face each day."
Realization dawned across his face. "That's what that was for? I see. I guess you won't need..."
Oh, he made you a costume. Layers and layers of rotten gauze from the curtains, a spindrift take on the bedsheet ghost.
"Hey, I can use this, don't worry. Can you stoke the fire? I've got to dye this to match, I'll need some water boiled."
~*~*~*~
There's too many fucking people. You don't know any of them, they're loud, and they cram in wherever you need to go. But their fussing over you, their asking for pictures is nice. If only...
"Hey, are you lost, kid?" You lean down and reach a hand out to a fearful-looking six-year-old. "I can help you find someone who can help?"
He promptly burst into tears and collided into Floyd as he ran away.
"Hey there itty bitty. You need an adult? Hold on." Even with Floyd... being Floyd, he was a hell of a more welcome sight to the kid, and soon had him balanced on a shoulder to yell for his parents. "Who's under all that?"
"Your favourite shrimp, you overgrown string bean."
Floyd make an o of surprise and flicked the veil up. "It is you under all that! See, kid, She's not scary. She's pretty."
The kid simply eyed him dubiously before going back to trying to wave his parents down to get away from these lunatics.
All your hard work paid off beautifully. A mass of bones, beads and decay, a beautifully jeweled skeleton crowned with a fine halo of gold-and-bone spines and dried flowers. You rattled gently with every step, eyes staring out from a painted skull. They only thing you regretted was Riddle catching you earlier. Even if he hadn't intentionally steered it that way himself, everyone would assume you'd intentionally went to match Heartslabyul. Even more, now that you'd turned those curtains into a veil, even if you'd stuck all the bone and garnet drops you could onto the edges.
"Thank you, Floyd." You leaned up towards the kid. "Didn't mean to scare you, little darling."
The kid just stared at you in fear, and fortunately his parents came along to claim him, leaving you and Floyd by yourself.
"Shrimpie~" He'd scooped you up to replace the kid in his arms before you could protest. "You're so cute like this! Let's go to the alchemy room."
"What's in the alchemy room, Floyd." At this point you were used to him just... hauling you wherever. And you’d found that if you went along with the lighter end of it, he took you seriously when you said no. Weirdo he was, he'd at least gathered that you'd hang out willingly if he didn't push it.
"Oh, well you look so nice! You'll look much nicer in the water tube than the dummy we have in there."
"There are several reasons that can't work, Floyd. Least of it is I only breathe air."
"You're a ghost right now, you don't breathe at all."
"This outfit would not survive a dunking. I'm not sure it'll last the week if I don't repair it every night."
He kept smiling at you. "Even better! Wearing nothing at all on Halloween! Everyone would take even more pictures."
"Yeah yeah, and you have nothing at all in your room if I want to speed that up." You flicked his nose. "Put me down and we can walk over and check how it's going."
"Excuse me?" A stranger. "Can I take a picture of you and your boyfriend like that."
"I'm not her boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend. Go ahead though."
~*~*~*~
"What are you working on?"
Idia's voice was slightly muffled under the pumpkin head. "People kept calling my projection 'cute'. Idiots! They don't know the true fear of Pumpkin Hollow. So I'm adjusting the projection mapping so it's less cute, and more accurate."
"Hm. It seems fine to me as it is."
"You would think that. You don't care if there is a cuteness to things that are scary."
"There's beauty and sweetness in even death." You thought for a moment. "This is for that series you sat me down for? You got mad when I played with the toys?"
"Those. Are. Collecta-" he stopped when he whirled on you, faltering into silence. You really wished you could see the face he was making, he made such sweet faces, especially when he looked at you. You craved them, wanted him to look only at you with those expressions.
You smiled at him. "There's no use in leaving a toy in a box! I don't buy anything I don't intend to play with."
"Ah. Errrrrrrrrghhhmmm." He turned back to his work, took a deep breath, and turned back around. "You watched them, would you give me feedback?"
"Sure. Could you lean down a little?"
He did, and you carefully pulled off the pumpkin, revealing - nothing. No head at all.
You laughed. "Turn that off."
"Why?"
"I just opened your box. Time to play."
He made a strangled noise and started back, looking this way and that. "Right now? Anyone could come in!"
"Just for a moment! How can I give you a kiss if I can't see where I'm aiming?"
His head flickered into view, with a face full of mischief. "... Just one?"
~*~*~*~
"What happened to your makeup?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, model boy." You looked Vil up and down. "You're actually pretty hot like that. It's a miracle."
"Of course you would only find me attractive when I look like a corpse." He rolled his eyes hard enough to sprain. "Do I need to go lie down in a glass coffin too? Stay very still while you actually work up the courage to touch me?"
You snorted. "You wish I would touch you, you overblown jackass."
"With you looking like that? I'd die."
"Bite me, asshole."
"You'd like it if I did."
Your tone grew playful. "Is that a promise for later?"
"Ugh." His shudder was too exaggerated to be anything but an act. "Go ask your ugly little playmate for a bite, we all know what gross shit you get up to."
"You're just mad it's not you."
He pointed a perfectly manicured nail at your painted nose. "You're just mad I want nothing to do with you."
"Then why are you even talking to me?"
"I- why am I talking to you. Go away."
You did, but not before pulling on his cape to wrinkle it.
~*~*~*~
You had a dreadful feeling things were about to get worse. Call it intuition, or paranoia. But with any luck, that would change after a good night's sleep.
(It did not.)
~*~*~*~
These fuckers were getting exhausting. What a grand idea, picking unknown flowers to stick in your hair for selfies! That wasn't an excellent way to come down with a hideous case of contact poisoning at all. You had to swat one girl's hand away from a bed of monkshood, reciting symptoms of aconite poisoning at her until she stalked off in a huff.
And futzing around with the decorations! The only reason you didn't outwardly congratulate Leona on trying to rip apart a bunch of tourists was that murder is supposed to be bad, no matter how irritating and disrespectful the murder victims were. Even you knew better than to go around fondling random ears and tails!
(That's why you'd made the anatomy books in the library your friends. Far more polite than going up to a fellow student and saying, "May I feel around your skull for a few hours to satisfy my scientific curiosity? No one at home has ears like that and I'm very curious about the underlying muscle structures." )
Better see what's going on everywhere else.
~*~*~*~
You got up in tiptoe and lightly touched his arm. "Hey, Floyd?"
"??? Yes, Shrimpie?" His face instantly brightening, he dropped the absolutely delighted Magicammer he'd had pressed to the shelf and turned to you, leaning in as you crooked your finger.
You whispered in his ear, "Why waste magic on them when you can do so much more with your fists?"
He shone like the sun as he pressed his cheek to yours in lieu of something more intimate. "You always know just what to do."
~*~*~*~
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE."
The crowd of idiots instead turned on you with flash photography. "Another ghost! This'll get so many likes!"
"I MEAN IT!" Blinking away the spots from your eyes and casting all good sense to the wind, you grabbed a fire poker from inside your bedroom door and started swinging. They laughed and clapped - and only stepped back when you got the damned thing stuck in the wall while taking a swing.
"What an excellent show!" And more. Fucking. Pictures. How in the fuck Vil deals with this shit without murdering everyone in a hundred-foot radius, you'd love to know.
"I SAID-" yank "GET THE FUCK-" yank "OUT OF MY HOUSE!" The force of finally pulling the poker from the wall sent you careening onto your ass, and Grimm only stopped long enough to laugh at you before resuming his own ineffective charge. You stumbled to your feet, muttering. "Stupid little mother fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking..."
"Oh, it's a chase game! Let's go!" And they all fucking scattered into different rooms as you watched them in disbelief.
"I am going to kill everyone in this building and then myself for good measure."
~*~*~*~
"Leave."
"Aren't you going to scare me, Miss Ghost?" This last idiot was joyfully skipping around a bedroom that you'd had the ghosts empty out, nattering into her phone. A livestream, you think.
You're in you goddamned pajamas. "Sure. We don't use this room because the floor's not sound. Get the fuck out and leave before you fall through to the next floor."
The girl instead started to hop in place. "Oooooo, so scary! You'll have to try better than that!"
You rushed her. You probably would have throttled her (and wound up with a new ghostly roommate in the process) but as she backed up, your leg went through the floor where she'd weakened it, which left her cackling.
"You weren't kidding! Bye now!" And she just fucking left you there like the wretched asshole she was.
~*~*~*~
"I'm so sorry, Yuu."
"Nothing to be sorry about, Mal."
He rested his head on your bare knee and looked up at you. "If I hadn't picked your home as a stamp location, people wouldn't be invading this dorm, and you wouldn't have been injured."
"You fixed me up, didn't you?" He was the one who had pulled you rightways, and shut the scratches on your leg. Of course, he could have left your socks on to do that, but hey, those had been fixed too. You reached down and put your hand on his cheek, rubbing circles by his eye while he stared up at you like an adoring dog.
"This was supposed to be fun for you, so you could have a perfect Halloween."
"That's still a few days away yet. There's still time. And hey."
He blinked up at you as you leaned your face in close, flushing faintly as you did. "Any luck, we'll all make it to November without assault charges."
~*~*~*~
"Yuu?"
You subconsciously growled like a rabid animal as you turned to Lilia with your eye twitching.
"By all the queen's powers." He shrank back. "You alright?"
"Magimons broke the lock on our bedroom and shook her awake last night." Grimm was, by some miracle, in a better mood than you; content to be a comforting weight in your arms and be your anger translator.
"They took," you added, "my groceries."
Lil looked at you in blank shock. "What about the wards on your doors?"
"That's for magic, not fucking morons with no sense of personal space." If you made it through 'til November without actually biting someone's throat out and getting put down like a mad dog, you'd be sincerely surprised. "You of all people should know that."
"Hey, I put them back up after I drop in. You want to go sit with Malleus today? I think you need it."
"Nope. If I snap at him he'll take it to heart. Or just kill everyone who's not staff or student because they upset me."
"No he wouldn't."
"We both know he would."
"He would not because that would be bad press for the kingdom."
"... well, damned if I ever though I'd say this, but thank god for politics."
~*~*~*~
You stare at the empty plinths as everyone started yelling and scrambling. You look to the rubble of the statues, the bases, to Cater, and back to the rubble, nudging what may have once been a staff with you toe.
"And it's not even for a fucking political movement."
~*~*~*~
"Yuu, if we can get rid of the magicam monsters, we can have the party!" Grimm smiled up at you, all sharp teeth and blue eyes. "Aren't you happy?"
You didn't have the heart to tell him that at this point, you'd rather they'd just cancel everything and simply sleep through till All Saint's. Fuck your costume work. Fuck the party. Fuck everything. If you see another jack o lantern you will smash it. Fuck this holiday. You're so tired.
"Yuu, do you have ideas on how to drive the magicam monsters away?"
You stared past Cater's ear because you didn't feel like looking anyone in the face. "Tried to brain a few with a fire poker. Th'just thought it was funny."
This was met with the sound of air sucked through teeth, and a warm hand on your shoulder. "Come with me please!" And Ortho pulled you away with the force of a vaudeville hook.
"You're having a very bad time!" So sweet, so earnest. Right now he was the only person here who could be that chipper and you not want to put their nose out the back of their skull.
You gave him a weary smile. "What was your first clue, honey."
"She keeps kicking in her sleep. When she sleeps. And she's all snappy and horrible!"
You gave Grimm a single light warning shake. "Shut up, Grimm."
"Would you like to stay over so that you can rest properly?" He was hovering directly in front of your face. "Maybe if you're somewhere you won't be woken up, you'll feel better."
You raised an eyebrow and stared over at Idia, who was trying very hard to pay attention to both your conversation and his. "Shouldn't you clear that with someone first?"
Ortho rolled his eyes, the effect on his little boy face frankly hilarious. "Oh, he'd be so upset you have you over. Deeply so. He wouldn't get a wink of sleep with you there." He leaned in. "Except he would, because you wouldn't do anything to keep him up with me there, would you?"
You wheezed. "You think so little of me, Ortho."
"I like you very much even if what you both get up to is gross."
"Of every boy in this school, Yuu. You picked that one."
Ortho glared down at Grimm. "That is my brother you're talking about."
"Stop it. Can we check back in?"
~*~*~*~
"So we're going to run round and scare the piss out of them?"
Jade nodded. "That is the idea, yes."
"... Can I help?"
"Of course, Yuu." Jade smiled his smile that didn't reach more than a millimetre beneath his eyes. "But we've agreed you can't have any blunt objects. For everyone's safety. And the school's reputation, of course.."
"... Yeah, that's for the best."
~*~*~*~
"Can you guys watch Grimm for the evening?"
"Of course." Mal beamed at you from his seat on the Ramshackle steps. "Where will you be that he doesn't want to be?"
"I don't like the horse."
"You ride horses?" Idia was sitting between Mal's legs as Malleus carefully arranged the bright hair into a high ponytail.
"Epel taught me." You paused for a minute. "Do you?"
"Mother made me learn. I haven't in years."
"Makes sense." He didn't like the outdoors, after all. "Mal, how'd you convince him to let you touch his hair? He only lets me do that in private."
"It will look nicer coming out of his pumpkin helmet if arranged higher." Mal crooked his mouth and dragged his lacquered nails along Idia's scalp, making a soft noise when Idia gasped, shivered and abruptly stood up.
"Nope nope nope nope no more of that-"
"May I at least put the elastic in?" Mal held up a black band. "It's fireproof."
He instead snatched it and ran for the library as fast as he could without cracking the armour. You and Mal watched him leave.
"Hm."
"Mal?"
He was still watching the blue light vanish into the distance. "I think I can see the appeal." His dreamy smile gained a sharp edge. "What a delicious sound."
You snickered. "God, I know, right? You should hear some of the other ones I've got out of him."
"You're both disgusting."
~*~*~*~
You hadn't worked out an actual story for this one, just your ghostly roommates and Grimm telling everyone to leave the statues alone. But some asshole, wearing aviator shades and the ugliest piecemeal hoodie you'd ever seen, mounted a plinth to start taking selfies. And once that started, more got the idea, and joined him, trying to nudge the statue away to make room.
So, that's where you came in, pulling into sight at the end of the drive, in tarnished gilt and rotten splendor, jeweled Death on a pale horse.
Sunglasses looked at you and froze, before snapping another picture.
Fucking pictures. You're so sick of pictures.
You snapped the reins and nudged your heels, and who knew anyone on two legs could move that fast? Though potentially being run down by a warhorse was great motivation to move thine arse, as it were. And, thank god, everyone else booked it out the gate after him.
It only took a little maneuvering to lock the gate while still up on a pale horse named Beans, and now? Time to take him to his stable and go the fuck to sleep. Maybe through past tomorrow. Fuck Halloween.
~*~*~*~
You were riding your merry way when a familiar voice called out to you.
"You dropped some loot!"
"What did I lose, Idia?" His little speakers mimicking the clang of armour were working overtime as he jogged up beside you. Once he reached you, he held up... a shoe.
"Huh." You looked down, and you had indeed lost a shoe while charging down a bunch of Magicam-obsessed assholes on a warhorse. "Thank you." That's when you gave Idia a level gaze, and stuck you leg out at him.
He swallowed back his noise of shock, and shaking, took your stockinged foot and slid the shoe back into place.
"Good boy."
He was turning from shell pink to a deep red that rivaled the roses in Heartslabyul. But that didn't mean he didn't know how to keep playing when emotions were high. Before letting go, he leaned down and kissed the top of your foot.
Now it was your turn to go red; a wonder the painted skull didn't simply melt off of your face.
~*~*~*~
"Shrimpie~"
You took a breath and prepared yourself. Scoopsies was inevitable.
True to form, Floyd had his whole conversation with you in a bridal carry. "We're gonna have the party!~ We chased them all away!~"
"That's..." Honestly, despite all the rage and pain this week had caused, you were rather happy about the news. "Nice."
"Ah - where'd your face go?" He leaned in, and you stopped him from getting too close with a finger pressed to his lips.
"I didn't feel up to wearing everything." Your embroidered gown and painted skull was replaced with a simple back veil and black dress. "I kind of hate this whole holiday right now and I'm ready to kick the next pumpkin I see."
He nodded, kissing your fingertip as he did. "I can help you after. But we need this all for the parade." He brightened. "You should paint up and get on the horse again for it!" He smiled, full of dreamy fondness and not a small amount of hunger. "I heard what you did to the magicam monsters... I wish I could have seen."
"Hey, I heard you didn't do too badly yourself." You leaned in conspiratorially. "Anyone pee themselves?"
He smiled like the sun post-eclipse. "Yup!"
~*~*~*~
Epel had been nice enough to help you kit out Beans in a fancy black harness, so in amongst the crowd of costumed students, you were both equally eye-catching. And hell, pictures weren't so bad right now. People were keeping a distance, murmuring to each other as they aimed their cameras. You thought you were getting a dirty look or two from Vil for stealing his thunder, but he had himself on the prow of a ship! It wasn't comparable.
"So," you said, leaning down a little, "How are you handling this?"
Idia looked up at you, you thought. "The mask makes it easy. They're looking at the costume, not me."
"I'm glad it helps. I wish you'd take it off, but you being comfortable is more important."
"What? You want me to ruin the effect by taking the mask off? Clearly you have no respect for the holiday." His voice had the sweet, bubbling quality that came when he was excited and happy, and it warmed you to hear it.
"Oh, no, of course not. But why would I want to taste a plastic kiss,” you said, reaching a hand down to run the trailing ribbon of his hair through your fingers, “when I could taste you instead?"
You had to give him credit, he only faltered for a moment before continuing. "Right now? In front of everyone?"
"I would if you'd let me, right now." You lowered your voice. "And worse."
He stifled a groan and only walked funny for another ten minutes.
~*~*~*~
"I thought you didn't like horses." The stables were in sight, but Idia had turned up, surprising you.
He rolled his eyes, and held his arms out. "Dismount, fair maiden."
What.
"I mean it. Your Pumpkin Knight awaits."
You shook your head, voice soft. "Baby, no."
"I'm trying to be romantic. Like your novels."
"Idia."
He stared back at you, sour-faced. "What."
"I outweigh you by at least sixty pounds."
"I can do this. I carry Ortho around all the time."
"Ortho's chassis is mostly fibreglass and aluminum. I can carry Ortho. I think Grim could carry Ortho."
He took a step forward. "Do you want me to leave you on the horse or not."
"His name is Beans." But, you managed to dismount into Idia's arms, where he stood stock-still and trembling.
"Kkc."
"Babe? Put me down before your back goes out."
His knees gave out first, and he crumpled beneath you as you both yelped.
"You alright?"
"hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"
You crawled off his chest and he could actually breathe again.
"Better?"
After a few breaths, he managed a weak smile. "Maybe kiss it better."
Beans beat you to it, snuffling at Idia's face to make sure he wasn't dead.
~*~*~*~
You are not much of a party person. You like them, but the ideal party is a few friends hanging around in the same room, chatting at a reasonable volume and then going home to go the fuck to sleep. This was a little much.
But you know what this party had that you hadn't seen in what felt like years? Cute girls. In cute costumes! You've been flirting your ass off, with decent success; it turns out that the Magicam Live you did with Vil weeks ago had paid off in the form of smiles and fluttered eyelashes as girls crowded around you to hear tales of how fucking obnoxious you could be in this school and get away with it because you had friends in high places.
At least, until you caught something out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped. "Hey, I gotta check on someone - raise your hand if you like boys. Okay, you see -" You stopped and pointed at your poor, unsuspecting target. "With the blue-black hair and the painted spade? That's Deuce, he doesn't know how to talk to girls worth a damn, so give him some slack. But he's a sweetheart, you won't regret it."
"What about the redhead?"
"Ace is a prick but he's delightful. Chat him up too." With that, you went to check on Idia, huddled into a corner after an attempted force-feeding.
"You alright, babe?"
He nodded. "They're too much. But I'm alright now."
You leaned back against a nearby chair, looking him up and down. "You sure you aren't going to eat anything? I don't think anyone's going to care too much if you have your face out."
He remained completely still, and you realized you could hear a faint whirring. "Idia. Have you been using the robot double all evening."
"... I swapped out ten minutes ago."
You made a noise and he flinched. "I was going to swap back in after it calmed down!"
"... No you weren't."
"Okay, no I wasn't. But I was there for a while. I have proof, I brought plates back with me."
"You could have just told me. It's been a hell of a lot for you, I know what you're like."
Idia - well, his robotic avatar - shrugged. "If you're going to lecture me... come by and do it here."
You stopped. "You really want me to yell at you in person?"
"I want you to come by. If you want. You can stay as long as you want... if you want. I have snacks, and movies, and games that even you could play."
You snorted. "Oh, the siren call of a fucking nerd trying so hard to woo his chosen..."
"I changed my mind actually, you can't come."
"Aww."
"... That's a lie." He paused. "You can even take the Yume Twins out."
Those vinyl dolls he never let you touch. You throw your veil back and kissed the stupid plastic pumpkin head. "It's a date."
~*~*~*~
"Yuu?"
You peered at Malleus from around a stack of Tupperware. "Mal?"
"You.. enjoyed it all, despite everything?"
"Despite everything." You hefted the stack towards him. "Would you like to help? I want to grab stuff from the party that'll keep at room temperature."
He absently flicked a finger, sending the dishes swirling around to settle in a stack in midair, before placing a hand on your shoulder. "I have a... request."
"Anything," you said, and you regretted saying it as his breath hitched.
"Would you..." His voice faltered, and instead he simply wrapped you in a tight embrace, leaning down to bury his nose in your hair. You could feel him, chest heaving, scenting your greased hair through tulle, murmuring something against your scalp.
"Malleus."
He stopped, but did not move.
"No spells."
"You would not forgive me if I tried." You could feel his smile against your hair.
"I would not." You pulled back enough to look at him, and nearly froze at his besotted gaze before he schooled it into his more usual face. "Mal, you know you only feel this strong because I'm your first friend, right?"
"Does it matter? It is sincere."
And that makes it so much worse. "You know I don't feel about you like that."
"..." The grief that flickered across his face was enough to shatter a stone heart. "To stand with you and hold you is enough."
And they said fairies can't lie. They could, they were just terrible at it.
"You said you were going to ask for something?"
"... Not anymore. I doubt you would give it."
He vanished into thin air in a swirl of wind, and the Tupperware clattered to the steps, the spell holding them gone.
~*~*~*~
The nice thing about Idia's room is that, being a prefect, he had an attached bathroom to scrub the paint off of your face. It was a monochrome murder in the sink, splatters of grey with the occasional pinprick of red where you'd disturbed the new bumper crop of pimples from painting up as a skull for a week. Thank fuck that was over with. Even if the day proper had been lovely, the events of the week had thoroughly soured you on Halloween.
"You alright?" Idia poked his head in, long since divested of armour.
"Yup. How'd you get that shit off so fast? You got a suiting-up machine hidden somewhere?"
"It's less complicated than you'd think. Cosplay magic."
"That's nice. Unbutton me."
"... wha."
You looked at him via the mirror, meeting his wide eyes and shimmying in place. "Unbutton me. I can't reach them all myself."
"How'd you get that on every day?" He hesitantly walked behind, eyeing the row down your back as though it would burn him at the touch.
"I have roommates, remember?"
"Mmh." He finally undid the first three, before flicking his gaze back to yours in the mirror. "A... Are you sure?"
"I wouldn't ask, otherwise." You kept looking, as he took a breath and resumed. "Idia."
He paused.
"Keep going, I'm just going to chat at you for a bit." Two more. "You know I..." How to phrase this. "I don't intend to stay mint on card forever, you know. You can take me out and play."
He twitched, but kept going. "Maybe I don't want to damage you. There's only one of you, after all."
"I'm not so breakable." You had one side of you face completely clear, the other still smeared grey in the creases. "Would you rather stay mint condition, yourself?"
"..." He took a moment to gather himself, staring at the exposed skin of your back. "Maybe I want to... admire a bit. Get to know my- your- Uh."
You waited with a soft smile, until he found the words. "No one said you have to play straight away when you take something out of the package. Right?" He placed an experimental hand on the expanse of flesh between bra band and waistband, and did not draw away.
"Right."
"... Maybe I just want to hold you a bit before we play."
What a sweet boy you had. "Take all the time you need to. Even if we never play like that, I like you. Spending time with you is what I want."
You could see the motes of pink flickering through his hair. "Can I hold you now?"
"Of course."
He slid his hands under your dress, around your waist - then grabbed your soft, flabby tummy in both hands and squeezed. "Soft~"
You squealed with laughter. "What are you doing?"
"It's bare skin that's neutral territory," he huffed, before hugging your back to him and resting his chin on your shoulder. "And it's warm, too."
"Not so much as you. Keep me warm, will you? It's getting so damned cold at night."
He buried his face in your hair. "I can do that."
~*~*~*~
You woke to someone banging at the door.
"Son of a bitch." You managed to free yourself from Idia's sleeping grasp and make it to the door as a familiar voice started up. "Shroud, your tin can brother's already helping with clean-up, if you skip out because of a stupid game I will-"
You opened the door and looked levelly into Vil's face, which twisted in surprise. He gave you a once over (unshaved legs, mussed hair, boxer briefs from the men's section and a blue-black striped shirt that was clearly not yours) and then peeked over your shoulder at Idia (dead asleep, smiling faintly, possibly naked under the blankets). He kept looking between the two of you with increasing disbelief and horror, until he stepped back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Good for you."
"Thanks." Your face still hadn't changed.
"It's twelve thirty. If you're not both out helping clean up by three, I'm telling everyone."
"That's not much of a threat."
"Maybe to you. Shroud!"
Idia shuddered awake, bleariness washed away by terror as he saw Vil in the door and covered himself in the blankets.
"Be out helping cleanup by three or I'm telling everyone exactly why you're late." With that, he stalked off and you shut the door, mirroring his nose pinch.
"Dramatic bastard, ain't he? Even when he's being nice."
"How is that nice?" He only stopped shivering when you sat back down on the bed.
"Two and a half hours, Idia."
He blinked at you.
"How much can we do in two and a half hours?"
Realization dawned, and he started snickering as he dragged you in close.
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SnK Episode 68 Poll Results (for Manga Readers)
The poll closed with 146 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!
Please note that these are the results for the Manga Readers’ poll. If you wish to see the results for the Anime Only Watchers’ poll, click here.
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RATE THE EPISODE
140 Responses
The anime continues its positive streak with just over 90% of respondents rating the episode a 4 or 5. MAPPA appears to be blowing this season out of the water for most of us!
Noice
Good!
I liked it
WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING MOMENTS WAS YOUR FAVORITE?
144 Responses
We got a pretty mixed pie chart this week. To be expected, given how many moments were in this episode. At a tie with the largest pieces of the pie were Hange’s eccentric attempt to greet the Marleyans and Eren’s gunshot figuratively hitting Sasha. Behind that two more options tied in each with 10.4% of the vote - EMA’s conversation at the shooting range and Sasha appreciating Nicolo’s cooking. This is followed closely by Eren’s mirror scene with 9.7% of the vote. Onyankopon explaining why he looks different when Sasha asks him about it took a solid 9% of the vote.
WHAT WAS THE MOST EMOTIONAL PART OF THE VISIT TO SASHA’S GRAVE?
144 Responses
This was almost too close to call, but Mikasa sitting alone managed to edge out just slightly over Connie’s “I’ve lost half of me” moment at Sasha’s grave. Trailing behind the two were Nicolo’s grief and the agreement between Papa Braus agreeing to a free meal from Nicolo.
AFTER SEVERAL TENSE AND ACTION PACKED EPISODES, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE TRANSITION TO SOMETHING MORE CALM?
138 Responses
The larger chunk of respondents are feeling relieved to get a break from the action for a few episodes. 21.7% prefer the action but don’t mind a break here and there, while 21% state that they enjoy the exposition more than the action anyway, so they are content. A small handful don’t care either way.
We needed this for another build-up to more action
I like the action but it’s important to move the story along
These just feel mandatory fillers to me.
I miss the warriors
I feel fine with it. I thought that was going to be some happy-go-me episode, but gladly it still had a serious tones.
This episode felt like a very welcome respite after the absolute shitshow that was spoilers week and....whatever the fuck chapter 137 was.
Nice breather of sorts, I always like seeing characters from action-heavy series in their downtime.
WOULD YOU RATHER GET A SURPRISE GREETING FROM EREN & HANGE, OR ARMIN & LEVI?
141 Responses
The vast majority of respondents would prefer the slightly less lethal greeting given by Hange and Eren at the beginning of the episode. We’re not sure if the other 29.1% are masochists or just really love Levi and/or Armin that much more. Or perhaps they’re intrigued by the pig piss from the filthy island devils.
ON A SCALE OF 1-5, HOW HAPPY ARE YOU TO BE BACK ON PARADIS?
139 Responses
Overall, fans are happy to be back in familiar territory and put into the perspective of the Survey Corps again. Let’s get ready to rumble!
MAPPA HAS SPRINKLED IN ANIME-ONLY ADDITIONS THROUGHOUT THE EPISODE. AS A WHOLE, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THEM?
139 Responses
Though subtle, MAPPA did include some anime filler (such as Eren’s, erm, mouth breathing). 51.1% enjoyed the noticeable additions, while 37.4% are completely confused by the question and didn’t realize there were any. A handful generally don’t prefer additions but enjoyed what little ones we had this episode. A small sliver didn’t care for them.
HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE SCENES FROM CHAPTER 107 THAT WERE PEPPERED IN BETWEEN THE MOMENTS FROM CHAPTER 106?
139 Responses
MAPPA is shuffling things around to pick up the pacing of this arc, and 48.2% of respondents are feeling very positively about it. 38.8% also feel that both the order of events in the original manga and the anime work out just fine regardless. A couple of smaller groups either felt that things were a bit off from the manga, or didn’t really care either way.
I think it's great because it allows an episode to start and end on the same chapter if mappa ever wanted it, allowing the right twists or cliffhangers to be in the right episodes, all WITHOUT having to slow down, which I wholly appreciate.
I'm fine with the changes. Mappa is doing good job.
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE CHANGE OF GABI BITING HER NAIL AND ANGRILY SAYING EREN’S NAME IN HER JAIL CELL?
142 Responses
Nearly half of voters feel that both MAPPA’s take and Isayama’s original take work just fine for Gabi’s character. 28.9% prefer the anime’s take on Gabi’s reaction to all that happened, while 14.8% feel that her more defeated posture in the manga makes more sense for her character.
I'm a mix of both? Her defeated posture implies that she's not happy with the way things worked out with them in jail and Zeke betraying them. On the other hand, her angry face is realistic to the scene too because it implies she really blames Eren for their current predicament.
She looks like some female version of young, angry Tarzan. This time Mappa should have kept the original postures, because the defeated Gabi feels to be more realistic, than the crazy anime one.
I think they both work but the anime's take might be the anime team beating us over the head that she's just like Eren when he was young.
Makes it clear to the anime-onlies that she really is psychotic
Gabi sucks
HOW WELL DO YOU THINK MAPPA NAILED THE TRANSITION OF EREN SHOOTING THE GUN, TO SASHA TAKING THE HIT?
141 Responses
The response to MAPPA’s take on Eren’s shot inadvertently hitting Sasha was overwhelmingly positive, with only a few people saying that they could have done better with it.
Eren shot linked to Sasha's death was awesome. Mappa is nailing it!
THE PART WHERE JEAN, SASHA AND CONNIE ARE TRYING TO GUESS WHAT A PORT IS WAS CUT OUT, WITH ARMIN’S NARRATION INSTEAD CUTTING INTO THE SCENE. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT IT?
140 Responses
Exactly 50% felt that while having that JSC characterization would have been very much welcome, they’re okay with that small detail missing from the manga (granted, it was at least acknowledged by one panel being animated). 25.7% have a more nonchalant response, stating that if it helps with the pacing, they’re fine with small cuts like this. 10.7% are just let down by JSC’s lack of characterization in the anime overall and didn’t appreciate even more being taken from their characterization in this episode.
I was more so interested in our Paradis Peeps talking about newly discovered technology but I’m happy with what we got.
Not dissappointed since I understand you can't show everything but I love them so sad
Why was it animated then?! I’m so confused
Normally I don't like it when they cut corners like this, but I wasn't fond of that scene in the first place so it's okay.
If by "anime" you mean the entirety of it including the past 3 seasons, then option 3. I'm always going to be salty about how much they took out or changed for these three during the uprising arc. So far mappa has done okay with them, I guess.
Would have been a funny JSC moment, but it was really absolutely pointless. In manga format it works as just background words on a panel. Animating it takes seconds of an episode that could be used elsewhere. So I'm fine with it being cut out.
SOME HAVE COMPLAINED THAT THE ENDING SCENE OF EREN REPEATING HIS MANTRA INTO THE MIRROR LACKED THE IMPACT IT HAD IN THE MANGA. HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THAT?
138 Responses
43.5% were receptive of the anime only shots, but favor the way the scene was portrayed in the manga more. 34.1% felt that both versions were done well, with only 9.4% feeling that the impact was largely the same (if not better). Based on the write-ins, the main complaint seems to be the lighting/color scheme of the scene not quite meeting expectations, or that MAPPA made Eren’s back look weird.
theyll make up for it when eren screeches at hange next ep
Impact was there, art just felt a bit wonky and toned down the scene overall. 9/11
This goes into my criticism of the color palette and shading style mappa uses, which is far more subdued. The contrast is lowered and the scene is very dark, and there is little rim lighting, so while the actual lineart has far more detail, the detail in the lighting is reduced. Damn I really am writing a wall text aren't I? I prefer Wit Studio's art style a lot but Mappa has honestly been doing great so I couldn't care less, manbun Eren is hot.
I prefer the manga version. I think the anime version have weirds shadows in eren's back. Plus the mirror don't have the same energy, less impactful
Cool scene in the anime, an unforgettable blow to the brains in the manga
Idk
Most of the time seeing things for the first time is what's really impactful. Feel this way towards Armin's transformation in the boat as well. It was definitely less impactful than when you first read it in the manga.
I understand the fandom because this moment was very popular when the chapter was out. I think that in the anime Eren lacks the anger he had in the manga. His voice was too calm while repeating his mantra. .
WHY DOES HIS BACK LOOK LIKE THAT
I didn't care for it in the anime, it was really underwhelming.
I think most people are annoyed about the lighting than the impact. It’s a bit too dim and the lamp hides Eren’s new hair.
Didn't like the anime version at all
The animation wasn't good and they totally fucked his hair, face, and body up. Although the added shots were definitely welcome.
Eren could've been sexier/animated better, I hope they do better next ep 😭
WE WILL ASK YOU AGAIN. HOW WILL THE ANIME DEAL WITH MIKASA’S HIZURU TATTOO/SYMBOL?
135 Responses
With Mikasa meeting Kiyomi presumably being inevitable in episode 69, we wondered if any opinions had changed on this. 34.1% feel hopeful that the tattoo will be retconned into the anime and that we will see this scene faithful to the manga. 28.9% think that Mikasa will happen to have some kind of embroidery on hand already. 25.9% don’t want to make a call either way, and a small handful think Mikasa’s going to just pull out an embroidery kit and go with it, lol.
The embroidery will be on the inside of her bandage.
Japanese are very taboo about tattoos because of the Yazuka... it will 100% be the embroidery.
I don't know but I hope it gets retconned. Never liked the embroidery thing.
It won't be included
Let’s just... ignore it..
I really really hope MAPPA retcons Mikasa's tattoo next episode. This will be the one retcon I will absolutely celebrate. Plus, it's not really a retcon if they're just amending Wit's changes.
WE WILL ASK YOU AGAIN, AGAIN. WITH THE PACING CURRENTLY UTILIZED BY MAPPA, WHERE WILL EPISODE 16 END?
137 Responses
Uncertainty continues to loom over exactly how far MAPPA will get into this (first half of the?) season. Nearly 40% don’t want to make predictions one way or another, while 23.4% feel that it won’t make it quite to chapter 122. The rest believe it will make it to chapter 122, with 17.5% feeling there will only be minor cuts, if any, and the remaining 13.1% feeling that there will be major cuts to make the feat to chapter 122.
116 (?) when the allied force attack paradis
122 with the amount of cuts being somewhere in between. They can cut a lot of the Gabi and Falco plotline and still have the story remain intact.
See, I'm not sure buy I'm also worried and curious about it all. It brings up the question of will the story continue in a possible second half of the season? With the manga ending very soon now, it makes sense to have the story wrap up in its anime medium as well. Fees like there's some kind of uncertainty surrounding this, it's unnerving tbh.
119 with Eren's head being blown off.
gabi no scoping eren, ending creds is eren entering paths and we see ymir standing behind him, s4p2 starts w the ymir backstory
121
No idea and I don't think about it. I just enjoy the show.
Your guess is as good as mine, I'm still fearing major cuts.
119
HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT NICOLO’S PORTRAYAL?
138 Responses
With Nicolo now formally introduced in the anime, we were curious how you felt about his portrayal. Overall the reaction was positive, with 48.6% agreeing that he’s a “cutie pie chef”, and another 45.7% feeling that his design and seiyuu are absolutely great! A small handful were less happy with the voice, but happy with the design, and a sliver went in the opposite direction, preferring voice over animation.
HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE ADDED DETAIL OF THE FLOWER BOQUETS AND THEIR SYMBOLISM ON SASHA’S GRAVE?
140 Responses
Respondents vastly appreciated the flower symbolism from MAPPA with 82.9% of the pie. 12.9% aren’t really sure what symbolism there even was, and a small amount either don’t care or felt the effort could have been spent on something other than flowers for Sasha.
WHICH SCENE FROM THE PREVIEW ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?
143 Responses
This pie chart wound up being almost eerily even. 42.7% are most looking forward to the 104th discussing Eren (hopeful for the train flashback?). 39.9% instead are looking more forward to Hange and Eren’s tense conversation at his jail cell. The remaining three preview moments were pretty evenly split as well.
DO YOU THINK WE’LL GET BLUSHING!104TH NEXT EPISODE?
130 Responses
71.5% feel that there is a chance we will get the train flashback of the 104th in this episode, but don’t want to say for absolutely certain. 18.5% feel that it is a guarantee based on what we saw in the preview. 10% feel it is instead guaranteed that we will NOT get the scene in 69.
WE WILL LIKELY SEE PREGNANT HISTORIA NEXT EPISODE. THOUGHTS?
140 Responses
The plotline that continues to be a frustrating mystery in the manga - Historia’s pregnancy. 34.3% aren’t particularly looking forward to seeing her in the rocking chair and aren’t very stoked about having to relive this plotline all over again. 33.6% mainly just care about seeing how the anime only fans react to the scene. 17.9% just miss Historia altogether and will take any scraps they can get. And a small handful, at 9.3%, are actually looking forward to seeing anime!Historia with a baby bump.
Don't really care about historia
It's in MAPPA's hands now. I just hope they can add a little more of her screentime somehow.
I hope so. I want to see the design of her adult self.
I honestly wouldn't mind if Historia's entire arc, which consists of equal parts pregnancy, irrelevance and uselessness, is just completely cut in the anime lol
not interest
I'm not interested
I've hated this fucking plot line with all my being and what it's done to Historia since the leaks for this chapter were revealed years ago. So I'm not looking forward to anime-only people jumping in with their hot takes too. 🤮🤮
ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?
mikasa was shown in sasha's grave in the morning/afternoon and then she was shown again at dusk. SHE SPENT THE WHOLE DAY THERE. and annie... what a queen. and hisu's few scenes? so pretty.
Really glad the pacing was well done
nicosasha ship just flew in and took the spotlight
fantastic!! maybe it's just because this isn't my first time going through this arc anymore, but i feel like the anime feels chronologically less confusing than the manga—I remember being very confused my first time reading these chapters.
The lack of score by Hiroyuki Sawamo is negatively impacting my relationship with the anime. The depth of the emotion that could have been evoked was not present. I also did not get the sense that Nicolo and Sasha were in love, which was a major disappoinment. There were other aspects that weren't so bad, though; specifically, Levi's portrayal and Onyankopon's philosophy.
It felt a bit all over the place, but just seeing things from the manga being animated, I ain’t even mad.
I think that the scene between Sasha and Nicolo was made better in the anime. Isayama has problems with writing romantic moments, so in the manga the whole moment looked like it was taken from some light romance. Mappa made this scene more serene. I liked it.
I think MAPPA is doing so great tbh! I just need them to hurry up and explain if there will be a part two to this final season or what?! I need to know if we get more anime or they'll diverge into movies or.... just tell us! Lol!
How DAREEEE they not give Levi his black steed!!!! .....Although knowing what happens ummm yeah maybe his pony gets to live another day this way lol
Here comes the train wreck, choo choo!
I'm really sad I didn't get to hear Sasha call Jean a perv. I was really looking forward to that. LOL I love them.
When EMA were at the shooting range, it looked too much like Mikasa wasn't wearing any pants.
VERY solid. Not the biggest fan of the War for Paradis arc but I'm here for the ride.
WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES?
128 Responses
Thanks again to everyone who participated!
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Part 2 of MCU/Twilight verse
“That MCU crossover I’m writing that actually hasn’t mentioned the MCU at all yet.”
Alt 7: Found Family
Rating: T for swearing
Words: 2,551
Summary: Twilight X MCU crossover. The Snap doesn’t just kill humans. What happens next?
Notes: Is this even Whump-y enough to count to Whumptober? I don’t know, everyone’s grieving. I made myself watch Endgame again and I found something useful. I know it probably feels like I wiped out a lot of characters, but there’s method to my madness. I’m desperately resisting the urge to make some obvious corrections to the MCU, and I’m pretty sure the last two chapters are going to be needlessly self-indulgent. And yes, I need a title.
Part One here
two. survivors
What happens next?
It’s a good question, and one Alice used to be able to answer. Her predictions have… well, they haven’t stopped, but there are less. Maybe she’s not saying everything but he doesn’t press.
They stay in Forks. It’s the easiest option, really. They have resources at the Forks house - all of Jasper’s computers, Rose’s cars, Carlisle’s medication stash. And for, now, it makes sense to keep up the masquerade - the orphaned Cullen kids, in that big old house.
And Seth Clearwater. Neither of them have made more than polite inquiries about the Quileute reservation, because what can they do, really? They weren’t allowed on the land, and nothing they offer will be accepted. Seth doesn’t want to talk about it either, so they just… don’t. Not yet.
The first announcements and news reports are hard to listen to - half of all living creatures. Humans, animals, plants, sea-life… just gone. Then there are the people who survived, but died in the aftermath; the patients in surgery with the dust of their surgeons sinking into their chest cavity, the passengers on an airplane, the school bus with no driver. The news plays on, listing losses and catastrophes until he loudly asks if Seth wants to play Xbox instead.
Alice goes with them, and sits crosslegged on a recliner, watching them.
“Carlisle would have liked that,” she says suddenly, when Emmett realises the error in picking a war game - should have opted for a racing game instead.
“Liked what?” he asks, as he gets up to change the disc. Seth doesn’t say anything, playing with the recliner buttons instead.
“‘Half of all living creatures’,” she quotes. She’s been wearing one of Jasper’s t-shirts under her cardigan, and the scent of his brother is fading the longer she wears it. “Carlisle would have appreciated that. That the universe thought we were living creatures. Might have convinced Edward that we weren’t total monsters, either.”
Seth looks up at her, confused. “Why wouldn’t you be living creatures?” he asks, concentrating at the recliner tips him right back.
“We don’t breathe or age or change,” Alice says, a smirk playing around her face as Seth yelps when the entire chair begins to tip, but luckily it doesn’t fall.
“But you eat,” Seth accepts the controller Emmett passes him. “And you’ve got families. That means you still count.”
“I wish we didn’t.” Emmett doesn’t realise he’s said those words aloud until he realises Seth and Alice are both staring at him. He wants to explain that if they didn’t count, then there wouldn’t be five vases lined up on the mantel (three empty) full of dust. That he wouldn’t be sitting here playing Xbox with Seth Clearwater, and Alice wouldn’t be wearing leggings and her husband’s t-shirt, looking brittle and tired. That he wouldn’t go into their room every night, and bury his face in Rose’s clothes to keep himself from going insane.
But he doesn’t need to. They both understand - Alice sits with Seth when the boy sniffles and tries to hide it; Emmett hears Alice padding around Jasper’s office, having a conversation with thin air, questions asked to silence. If there was some loophole they could grab with both hands and exploit, he knows he and Alice and Seth would take it, humanity and life and all those upright and moral things be damned.
“Just what everyone needs,” Alice muses, leaning back and stretching like a cat. “A world where humans and animals were cut in half but the vampires weren’t.”
And she’s right. That would be a mess. The fucking end of times.
“That would be a cool movie,” Seth says absently, focused on the screen and forcing Emmett’s car off the road and into a ravine.
Alice watches them play for awhile before getting up. A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the door and low voices. Charlie Swan, with Carlisle’s phone. Emmett lets Seth win a second race, focused on the conversation Alice is having - why it took Charlie so damn long to bring the phone, how they’re holding up; his irritation at the delay it took to get Carlisle’s phone is tempered when he hears the genuine concern Charlie has for Alice. He doesn’t know much about Bella’s father, but he seems like a good guy.
Not that Alice needs to act the part - she looks broken. Most of the time he feels like he’s seeing a part of her that he shouldn’t be seeing, that the loss and grief that becomes her is somehow shameful to witness; it’d be less awkward to see her naked than to see her twisting Jasper’s t-shirt in her hands with that glassy look of hopelessness she tries to hide.
Alice feels the same about him; that Emmett without Rose is devoid of that joie de vivre, that endless good humour, the extra joke. He feels tired in his bones, deflated, and distracted with the space in his chest that Rose used to fill. He feels like an old man, when he was never finished being a young man, never made it to middle-age.
But they are trying. Especially with Seth in the house - he’s taken over the bedroom that Esme planned to give to Bella, mostly because it didn’t stink of vampires as much as any other room; and neither of them wanted to dismantle Esme’s studio or Carlisle’s office. It wasn’t really much - a mattress and boxspring, a dresser and desk. Alice had given him a laptop to use, and found some new bedding for him, and occasionally even remembered that a fourteen year old boy shouldn’t be eating pizza six nights a week, and probably needed more boundaries than they were giving him. But Alice isn’t maternal, and her attempts at forcing vegetables and a bedtime on Seth usually get forgotten within a day or two.
Charlie Swan leaves, and he listens as Alice puts Carlisle’s phone into his vase, and then he focuses on the game so that Seth doesn’t think he’s letting him win because of pity or anything.
—
It’s not until late summer than people start bothering them. Parents of classmates who suddenly don’t have any children of their own to worry over. Colleagues and acquaintances who feel some kind of lingering responsibility. Busy-bodies, usually a part of some self-aggrandising self-appointed community group butting into everyone’s grief.
Alice ignores the early attempts to interfere, to crack open both the metaphorical and literal door for anyone who isn’t Charlie Swan. She’s taken to doing the oddest tasks, but Emmett doesn’t ask. At the moment, she’s painting every single door in the house with a swirling pattern of flowers that is tiny and detailed and fills up the day. Esme would have a conniption if she saw her lovely doors like this (he remembers when Alice and Jasper first arrived, and her art projects ran afoul of Esme - she had apologised and channeled that manic energy into embroidery instead; there’s a pair of unspeakably ugly curtains hanging in the Vermont house from one panicked week when Jasper went off with Peter and Charlotte).
Then the harassment starts - both her and him, since he’s apparently considered her ‘guardian’. Alice hangs up the phone numerous times wordlessly before being so outstandingly rude to Mrs Newton that both he and Seth stare at her before Emmett remembers he’s actually supposed to be in charge - as far as the rest of the town knows, at least - and calls to deter any more visits or phone calls or casseroles because Alice isn’t well and the disruptions are upsetting her.
If Carlisle or Esme were here, they’d think to send Mrs Newton flowers or something as an apology, but they aren’t, and no one can get Alice to apologise when she doesn’t want to, and Seth confided in him that she’s crying when he’s hiding in the garage and Seth is totally at a loss over what to do about a crying girl that isn’t Leah, so maybe they’ll just leave it at that. Give the town something new to gossip about.
But it does spark sudden realisation in both Cullens about a topic that has been long forgotten - school. Alice and Emmett have both graduated, but Seth had not. Seth had another four glorious years in high school, even if the Res school is down to double digits of enrolments, and probably won’t even run every weekday.
Seth whines and begs and negotiates until Alice stamps her foot and demands to know what Sue Clearwater would say and that makes Seth all small and miserable, and Alice hates herself and Emmett solves the problem by making a large donation through one of their anonymous charities to the Res school so that Seth can at least do online learning, and apparently that’s a huge deal that is on the local news, and that makes Alice and Seth laugh because only Emmett would stop a teenage boy’s whining by revolutionising a tribe’s educational provisions with a cheque large enough to sustain a small city for a year.
But it’s good help - it means the children who suddenly have no parents and have to raise siblings can still study; it means that half-empty classrooms don’t necessarily mean half-empty classes; it also means that other tribes with larger losses and no way of schooling are invited to join them.
That’s one good thing they’ve managed.
He also fixed the backdoor as good as new, so it should be two, but he’s pretty sure that doesn’t count now that Alice has painted flowers blooming and dying all over it.
At some point they both bully Seth into going home again, to get his own stuff - clothes and bedding and photos and all those things you look for when you’re in a house that isn’t yours. He yells at them, they yell at him, and he storms off. But now there’s a photo of him with his parents and sister on his dresser, and a bunch of books crowding his desk, and the world’s most beat-up DS under his pillow. There are more photos, somewhere - Emmett knows that because Alice knows where they are and then one day there are two framed photos joining the vases on the mantle - one of Sue and Harry Clearwater on their wedding day, and one of Leah laughing. Neither of them knows what happened to Sue or Leah precisely on that day, but Seth doesn’t bring the ashes with him, so they don’t ask.
Summer folds into fall, and what’s left of Esme’s gardens wither up. Charlie Swan checks on them every few weeks, sounding tired. There’s a lot of work for him right now - mostly community and social issues, like scared and orphaned children hiding, people struggling with money, grief, religion. There’s been some shortages of food, since there’s less being grown, less people to process and package and ship it, and a little town hours outside of Seattle is not a priority to whomever is deciding where to send a milk delivery.
They order Seth’s food from high-end places online that deliver them quickly and quietly; Alice starts choosing long-life and bulk items, and no one needs to ask because it’s obvious things will get worse before they get better. Seth holds a pretty intense grudge against the powdered strawberry milk, though.
But food shortages are the least of their worries, as Alice uses the dining room wall to start taking nonsensical notes, and Emmett’s heard enough stories to know that losing a mate can be… well, he’s not having much fun, but the very last thing he needs is to wrangle Alice if she’s lost her mind. Dead or not, he knows he could never lay a hand on her even if she did go nuts out of love for his family, out of respect for Jasper, and out of this funny bond they’ve somehow formed, being the last ones left.
The notes turn into lists, lists of everyone they’ve ever known, in her swirling handwriting. Even people they know are gone, like Bella, goes on the list.
Then she starts striking out names, like she’s slashing with a knife - Carlisle, Esme, Jasper, Rosalie, Edward, Bella, Charlie, Sue, Leah, Sam, Jacob, Paul… Slash, slash, slash.
Then it starts getting interesting. Peter and Charlotte are gone, but so are half the goddamned Volturi (Alice smirks as she crosses out Caius, Jane, Alec, Dimitri because imagining Aro on his throne with grief-mad Marcus and only the minions is a pretty picture indeed). Carmen and Tanya have survived, but Kate, Irina, and Eleazer are gone. Garrett is alive, but Randall and Mary aren’t. J Jenks didn’t make it either, which makes things… difficult.
Alice scowls darkly as she scratches out Maria’s name, and Emmett wonders if it’s because she didn’t get to do the honours of destroying the Mexican harpy herself. Or because wherever Jasper is now, so is Maria, and Alice is left behind.
Finally, she is done, and the list is nearly balanced in living and dead. Alice’s left eye twitches, and whatever she’s thinking she doesn’t say as she stands up.
“Alaska and then Mexico, then,” she says to him, and he gives her the Look that he gives her and Edward and Jasper every time one of them forgets that not everyone has a gift and some of them have to use their words.
“We need to check on Carmen and Tanya; I think they need us,” Alice explains, still examining the list. “I saw that we need to go. And then we’re going down to Mexico.”
“Maria’s dead,” he gestures at her list, and Seth wanders in stuffing his face with Pringles, and turns white at the sight of Esme’s freshly defaced walls; evidently Motherly Wrath is something universal across all of the species.
“Maria’s dead, and left behind a bunch of fresh newborns,” Alice sounds tired. “There’s no one left for clean up, Em, no one who knows. And it will be bad if we don’t step in soon.”
There might be something cathartic in that for Alice, undoing Maria’s life’s work. Maria’s lands weren’t exactly in the wealthiest or most populated lands these days - Jasper kept a secret map that wasn’t at all a secret - and if going down there and taking off a few heads saves a mother or father or child, then maybe it’s worth the hassle.
“Fine. Alaska and Mexico,” he agrees, and Seth cheers.
“Road-trip!” he declares around a mouthful of chips. Alice rolls her eyes.
“I’ll make you up a passport,” she says, not even bothering to argue with the younger boy that he’ll be joining them. “We’ll take the Jeep, Em - Rose just finished it.”
The words hang in the air for a second, and he nods in agreement. There might be something in that, taking the last gift-gesture-offering Rose ever did for him on their End-of-the-World Road Trip. Alice can rip the heads off newborns, he can drive around in the SUV his wife carefully and lovingly put together just to please him, and maybe he’ll buy Seth a beer in Tijuana.
Closest thing they’ll ever get to therapy, he supposes.
#my fic: jar of hearts#alice cullen#emmett cullen#seth clearwater#twilight fic#i should check the jalice prompts again for ch 3#but is this crossovery enough for a crossover?#like we're aggressively not talking about the avengers yet#we'll get there#i promise the roadtrip isn't just an excuse to run into captain america buying a milkshake or something#there is plot and purpose#we are above that sort of cloying and anemic meet cute#in this fic at least#others not so much
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The Witcher’s Mate- Chapter 14
Adva liked Triss. While being a skilled mage, there was a nurturing and caring nature to her. They spent many days together, practising the craft of spells and potions. In the three weeks, she never felt so free. Magic surged through her and with every day it grew. It wasn’t just the magic it was not having to wake up at the break of dawn to prepare the morning meal for the tavern, or stay up all night brewing a speedy recovery potion for the working girls who had had one too many customers the night before. Adva and Geralt had to feel into a pattern of sorts; each morning they would meet by the tree and spend the early hour of the morning together. Often or not, Geralt would sit in silence and watch her read or explain to her the various qualities of monsters or beasts. It was comfortable it was Adva favourite part of the day, spending a few hours with the moody Witcher. With each passing day, Adva was privy to a small glimpse at the man beneath all the armour, moods and mutations. A man who was sweet and caring he brought her a small packet of candy peanuts, he would never give them to her just leave them on her desk or would carry the mass of books Triss has dumped on her even little things like holding open the door. It was nice, but it did also reveal a sad side to his nature, a touch starved and painfully lonely man. His touches would linger, burn into her. I made her wonder when the last time someone hugged him, really hugged him. Being an orphan alone in the world, she knew what it was like to have no emotional intimacy; how it hurt.
For the last week, she rubbed the balm onto his chest, and stay with him till he fell asleep, sometimes she would doze next to him watching over him. Though he was sleeping better, sometimes ten hours straight, he still looked tired, his constant temperature was worrying. Geralt simple shrugged off her concerns with the news that he and Jaskier were going on a hunt. Both had disappeared for a week to a local forest infected by Ghouls. Every day that past Adva had become more adamant that they would not return. At the end of the fifth day, upon their return from their walk, Triss and Adva fell in the door laughing at some local merchant making a pass at the two women with the temptation of free cheese, to find the two men arguing in the living room.
‘Ahhh Geralt you have returned! We have just had a walk around the town…Smiggle, the Cheesemonger tried to talk Adva into a betrothal with a lump of cheddar.’ Triss’s laugh tinkled then bells in the parlour of the large house.
‘If it had been Brie, he would have got a different answer.’ Adva laughed taken a seat next to Jaskier, who laughed heartily and poured a drink.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Adva that Geralt gave Triss an outraged look, bordering between angry and irritation. There had been many secret looks and meetings in the workshop, behind the thick door. It uneased her. The way her ears burnt when they left made her paranoid. Geralt had been indecisively hot and cold. Some moments made her think they were almost friends than in a second; he would go cold and moody.
Geralt eyes rolled over Adva form, she wore the burgundy dress, with gold embroidery. It was tight across her chest and waist, showing delicious curves and flaring out at the hips to swish as she walked gently. Her hair had grown longer, and now wavy curls danced along her neck and the start of her back, every time she turned her head a waft of her smell invaded Geralt senses. He had spent the last five nights yearning for sleep; the smell had faded to a delicate reminder of her, calling him back to her. No matter how hard he scrubbed the smell clung to him, it has soaked into his very pores. When the last Ghoul had died, he saddled up Roach and headed straight back, not even bothering to clean the Ghoul blood from his body.
‘I thought you were meant to be studying Botany not how to flirt with cheese merchants. Triss your curriculum needs reworking’ Geralt bite out in a low cold tone
Triss glared as the Witcher, with deadly eyes. Five days gone, and the first thing he says to her was that—what a prick.
‘Adva why don’t you tend to the plant in the greenhouse, I have something to discuss with Geralt.’ Triss cooed and quickly ushered the woman out the room.
‘Geralt! The past five days, you have been like a lovesick puppy and that the first thing you say to her’ Jaskier scolded hands-on-hips.
‘I am not a lovesick puppy.’ The Witcher growled.
‘You are…Adva is so nice….you…you don't deserve her.’ Jaskier gave a high-pitched squeal, and he threw down his quill and followed the curly-haired women out to the Greenhouse.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
A slow sarcastic clap filled the air as Geralt stared grimily at the fire and burnt limply in the fireplace. Triss’s angry eyes were burning into the side of his face, but he refused to acknowledge her. ‘Well done, Geralt! Push her away.’
Geralt played his flagon taking deep gulps from the vessel, attempting to ignore the annoying Mage.
‘Ignoring me? Very mature, you must have been missing Adva immensely. I know she missed you, she kept pinning after you….’ Triss prodded and rolled her eyes, and he continued with the silent treatment. ‘Still nothing…. Well, I suppose you don’t want to know about the exciting discoveries I have made since you departure.’ Triss teased.
Geralt interest was ignited and his attention laid solely on the Mage, who gave him her best Cheshire smile as she waved her hand the table filled with papers and journals.
‘I sent for all of Tradi’s work; Lord Brightwater seemed to vary keen to get rid of it. Grumpy man. He also added some of Cersi notes as well. Seem your friend left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye to the sour Lord. He wasn’t best pleased. I sent one of the Marquis men to investigate; it appears that she left in the night in a hurry; the portal she used is nothing like I have seen before. No sign of the language in Adva book, I did, however, find an old journal.’ Triss pulled a journal onto her workbench, and pulled several pieces of paper from the book and scattered them in front of the two.
‘Geralt, Adva has been hidden her whole life…very carefully I might add. Cersi, in her journal, details the girl's growth and powers. Cersi seems very impressed with the girl's waterpowers peaking beyond expectation. There are pages and pages detailing everything magical goal she reached as she grew, how her body is formed, whether her body would be able to transform, or if she has bled. Don’t you think it's strange that ever since she left Brightwater, she had been attracting unwanted male attention? I have had to send away the Marquis men; they kept trying salivating over her. My guess's it's in her pheromones; there is nothing magical coming off her. That smell you're so addicted too. You’re her mate, so it does something more to you on a …metaphysical level. But for the rest of us mortals it does something else entirely, have you not noticed how people are with her? They become enamoured with her, but if you place her in a Whore house, Adva’s scent would be void. Sex gives off powerful odours, enough to hide her in plain sight. Why do you think Cersi did not take her in… and teach her, she placed her where she would be the safest, away from prying eyes of Mages and the like. If we want to find out what is happening, we need to find and talk to Cersi….. Till then I would recommend we take her to Kaer Morhen. She will be away from civilisation, and you can claim her. We need to tell her today…now.’
‘No’ Geralt gripped definitely.
‘Geralt! For the love of Goddess, why are you fighting this! What more proof do you need? Do you want me to wheel her out with the words Geralt’s Mate Painted across her chest before you admit it? An idiot could tell that you are struggling. You are barely sleeping or eating, and you're burning up! My potions are not working anymore. Have you read that book of Witches? You know if you don’t bond with her, you are going to drive yourself mad.’ Triss all but spat.
‘The book said we had a year…’
‘Yes, but with a human mate. WE may not know what she is, but we know she is not human, her bloody scent is enough to send the men around here acting like besotted idiots, for her mate, it must be seven times more potent. Why are you fighting this? Geralt your skin is clammy, I can feel your temperature from across the room. Your mood swings are becoming very wild, even for you. Geralt you are killing yourself…if that happens, who knows what will happen to her.’ Triss was pleading now, not something she usually resorted to, but she was scared for them both.
‘Fuck off Triss…’
‘Goddess help me Geralt... I will tell her myself.’
‘You won't!’
‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Triss hunched over him, prodding her brazened finger into his armour.
‘Because she deserves better!’ Geralt pulled Triss back as he roared, lifting a table in the process and launching in across the room.
‘Geralt…’
‘She is so pure and untouched. So sweet and innocent. I can’t….I won’t. She doesn’t and will not want me a life partner. I won’t subject her to this sort of life. I love her too much for that’ Geralt boomed
‘Geralt it not about you anymore. What about Adva, maybe she wants to be with you. To have someone, she had been alone for a long time.’ Triss voice broke into a soft whisper as she reached out to comfort the shaking man.
‘I can’t be that someone.’ Uttered heartbrokenly before turning and rushing away.
Triss’s heart broke for a moment, for both of them. Love was a complicated thing. For Geralt he felt too much, he loved so devotedly, and fiercely it broke him every time Yennefer stomped his heart into the ground. If anyone deserved someone, it was Geralt. A plan started to form in her head. It would take some effort to push the stubborn Witcher in the direction of the lovely creature, but it would be worth it, she cared too much to let Geralt send himself to early death, and she was already too devoted to Adva to let her be cast off by the handsome Witcher. Smiling smugly she set off, Jaskier would be easy to recruit. If Geralt weren’t going to act, then she would do it for him. Despite the complete mystery that enveloped the woman, there was one thing she did know, the soul bond was strong, and if they didn’t mate soon, god knows what will happen.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Geralt couldn’t help himself. By nature, he was a very sexual being, that itself is one of the reasons there was an attraction between him and Yennefer. That spark of need that burnt between them. They satisfied each other; with a Witcher’s stamina he could go for days, and a mage could at least try to match that. Because of that Geralt could never really say he felt fulfilled with a partner, the nearest being Yennefer and whether that was because of the Jinns magic he couldn’t say. The Witcher had never cursed his sexual desire, he was never short of partners, and his energy seems to be limitless in the area, he has never failed to rise of the occasion no matter how beaten or broken his body. By now he cursed the fate for the situation he found himself in. All 6ft 5 of him stood half-collapsed against a bedroom for that was not his own.
After storming out, he forced himself to tend to Roach and after that momentary distraction found himself in Adva’s room. After five long days, he needed to calm himself with her scent. His nose had picked up the scent and dragged him like a prisoner to the room the other side of the house, where he had no reason or excuse to be in. The Witcher’s heart pumped faster, the first time in almost a century until it was the only thing he could hear. The perfume of her was suffocating, disorientating and intoxicating, he needed to get away but couldn’t tear himself to leave. Geralt could see the strands of scent in a sparkling blue that curled through the air leading to a swirling mass in the centre of the bed.
Swallowing hard he approached the unmade bed, tentatively perching on the side, giving at the rumpled bedclothes. The outline where her body had rested was clear; the scent permeated from where she had slept the past three weeks. Inhaling deeply, he drove through the scents, subtle difference depending on her moods and what she had eaten. He deciphered the scents layer by layer till he found the addictive fragrances that had driven him here, it was dark then the other, a navy blue, almost black. Apple and the sea but musky with a sweetness. Trailing his fingers over the bed, he felt it and saw it. Her want. Her desire. Her wetness.
The scent had soaked into the very fabric of the bed throughout her stay, every night, adding to the aroma. Never had he been so thankful for his Witcher abilities, he saw it. The way her hair cascaded against the pillow as she tossed and turned, clenching her thighs together as she the wetness formed and the pressure became too much to bare. A delicious bead of sweat travelled down her neck, travelling over her left breast and then missing with the other scents on the bed. Clothing would be flung off in an attempt to cool herself down with little or no difference. With reluctance, her hands would travel to her slick thighs in an attempt to rid herself of the ache, her mouth turning into the pillow to muff her sobs of pleasure and growls of frustration as she never managed to bring herself over the edge that she had teased herself along for the best part of two weeks.
Inside of him, two feelings flourished the sense of sadness that she did not know how to pleasure her own body but also pride at being her first and only, the only man that would teach and feel her. A throaty moan push passed his lips. The rough bronzed hand was slowly palming his raging cock; he didn’t know when he had unlaced his breeches, but he could bring himself to think about it. Instead, he found himself settling himself on the bed, ripping his undershirt in the process, his hand never leaving his throbbing member.
Adva could come back at any minute, or Triss discover him, but all Geralt could focus on was the heat that rushed through him with every stroke. The Witcher was accustomed to pleasure himself when a willing bedmate was not to be found but never had it felt this good. Palming his balls, they had been heavier than he could ever remember them being, tight and painful, a grunt rumbled from him as he rolled them in his hands, teasing the skin with his fingertips. His other hand worked his length, a generous amount of pre-cum was already dripping across his tip, along his hand to slide effortless up and down his throbbing cock. Rolling his wrist, he pumped up and down slowly, enjoying the sensation, his eyes fluttered close, and a thousand images passed through his mind. Her laying frustrated on the bed whimper his name softly, her looking down at him as shyly she reached out to touch him, and all he could feel was her hand, while the other stocked his hair as she kissed him softly. It was a tender, pushing him slowly along to his peak.
A hiss escaped him, pushing through his teeth and the scent overpower him, forcing his eyes open. Gold obs burnt down as he watched he hand franticly pound his hard cock. A bead of pre-cum dribbled down. Geralt hips franticly snapped against his hand to meet every thrust, grunts and growl shook against the walls paired the violent sound of rhythmic flesh slapping filled the room, boarding on animistic, with ever sound Geralt chest practically vibrated as he edged closer and closer to release. Pushing himself against the headboard as he dug his heels into the bed as he arched his body, his hand desperately gripped his reddening cock as he feverishly pumped his cock. Grasping his hand out, the Witcher gripped the ornamental bedknob tightly, series of feral roars escaped the panting man. A thick jet of cum spurted out against the chest pooling in his stomach.
All strength sapped from his body, and the Witcher collapsed against the bed, soft pants puffed out from his chest, as slowly his eyes fluttered closed.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jaskier twirled to flower in his hand as he tilted from foot to foot as he observed the woman in front of him, he likes her immensely, it was half the reason he agreed with this plan. Adva was refreshing after spending what was like an eternity in the company of Yennefer. Jaskier felt an inner hatred for the violet-eyed Mage; she treated Geralt as a plaything, he did not disagree that there was some endearment on her side, but the way in which she treated his friend was beyond miserable, Ciri and him caught in the middle. The sad thing is Geralt could not see it, he followed her like a minion, and the big bad wolf turned to a lovesick puppy. Adva didn’t seem to mind the Witcher’s countenance, and there was a genuine affection for him. Jaskier might not have the Witcher’s sense, but he saw the looks, the subtle glances and the longing glimpses. If it weren’t for that, he would have set his cap to her himself. Adva was a beautiful woman, gifted with a voluptuous figure, violently blue eyes and plush lips that gave her a disarming smile paired with a caring personality; she was a catch for any hot-blooded man. But the hot-blooded man she seemed to want to be Geralt, especially going from the way her shoulders sagged as she tended the plants.
Adva busied herself tendering the plant in the glasshouse, Jaskier had followed her out and tended to her with soft praises and cheerful stories as an attempt to lift her mood. For the most part, Adva kicked herself for being that upset, Geralt lately had often been in a bad mood, but what had just happen wounded her. There was no reason why, nothing had occurred between them, so there was no reason for her to be hurt by his words, but she had thought they had grown close in the recent months. The Witcher’s scolding upset her.
‘We could go to town. Paint the town red.’ Jaskier lightly suggested as he plucked another flower up from Adva cuttings, causing her to look up and break her away from her thought.
‘…’
‘Come let have a night on the town. My coin purse is empty and I need to refill it with some wealthy listeners. The local tavern is a perfect spot, but I need a muse. Come with me.’ Jaskier cooed as he tucked the wildflower behind her ear.
‘Jaskier…’ Adva started before Jaskier cut her off with a stern look.
‘No…my creative flow is upon me. We will raid Triss’s wardrobe for clothing worthy of you and set off for the tavern. I envision an elegant undo with those pearl pin Triss has, oh and that burgundy dress I saw tucked at the back of his wardrobe. You are going to be my masterpiece, my subject of serenade; all will come to see you and listen to my songs. Now let's get you washed and polished. We are going to eat, drink and sing’ Jaskier bustled as he pushed her out the glasshouse.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jaskier was very pleased with himself, the dress that Triss had ordered was perfect, no man or woman would be able to look away for her. It was tight-fitting column dress in a mix of silk and velvet, at the waist two separate vents shot off in fine mesh material, embroidered in a silver thread, her sleeve made from the same material. The front had a deep V that showed off the milky flesh of her breasts, enticing the eye and showed off a barely modest cleavage. It had taken two gins to get her into the dress and another to let him apply the makeup. Her face was made up by brief sweep of powder, and a dark dusky pink lipstick painted on, making them seem all the more pouting. Two-layer of mascara had been applied to her eyelashes and a light pat of eyeshadow and delicate touch of eyeliner. Adva protested at the reflection at the mirror, but Jaskier ignored her and began to pin her curls over one shoulder with pearl hairpins before pushing her out the door.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
‘Geralt’
The alarmed voice carried throughout the house stirring the Geralt from his post-orgasm doze by Triss’s urgent cry. Casting his eyes around, he found that he had slept most of the day away. The sky was now darkening alarmingly; he was still sprawled across the bed, dry cum still plastered across his chest, his hand still encircling around his half-hard cock. Rearranging himself quickly, he straightened his clothes and slipped from the room as quietly and quickly as possible.
‘Really?’ Triss deadpanned as she tapped her foot outside her trainee's door.
‘What.’
‘I take it I can’t hope the Adva is lying half spend behind that door? I haven’t heard any screaming.’ The Mage deadpanned cross at him.
‘Triss drop it.’
‘Well maybe if you had she wouldn’t be missing. I can’t find her anywhere. One of the servants saw her heading off into town with Jaskier. That was at midday….’
‘Fuck’
So guys, what do you think?
I have a little competition for you. I need a pet name for Geralt to call Adva. Best one or the most recommended wins. My top picks are Goddess and Love as a genuinely think Geralt is the kinda guy who would worship you- Well in my dreams he is!!!
If anyone want to me tagged please message me :P
@broco8 @threepupsinapuddle @introvertedmouse @luxyash @shesthelastjedi @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazynocturnalkiki
#witcher geralt#the witcher#netflix the witcher#geralt smut#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia#Geralt#geralt x oc#geralt x smut#thewitcher
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STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES
⌠ NATALIA DYER, 21, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, ANYA CASIRAGHI! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in AWARENESS TRAINING, BREATH CONTROL, HAND TO HAND COMBAT + RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (embroidery on lace, waking up early to catch the sunset, the scent of fresh strawberries, perfect balance on tiptoes). when it’s the (libra)’s birthday on 9/24/99, they always request their ARANCINI DI RISO from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kati, 24, she/her, est ⍀ @gallagherintro
INSPIRATION.
cho chang – harry potter
grace blood – skins
esme cullen – twilight
yue – avatar the last airbender
lexi howard – euphoria
laurel castillo – how to get away with murder
jane bennett – pride and predjudice
ann perkins – parks & rec
kwon sun-hwa – lost
BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR BIO.
anya is the third-born casiraghi child after salvatore (oldest) and nico (second-oldest) and the first girl. she’s labeled extremely bright from a young age, but she doesn’t start speaking until she’s almost five years old. the casiraghi parents aren’t even concerned, they don’t think speech is an important quality for a girl.
the first thing she ever says is a full sentence: “i want to go out with the boys.” it’s almost as if she could have spoken this whole time, she’d just been waiting. but of course, she’s told no, and she wants to be part of the lives that nico and salvatore lead but she’s pushed the side and told to be something else, something more ornamental.
goes to ballet and etiquette classes instead ( the casiraghis are taught in their own home, much too good for even the best of private schools ) and often feels like she has to make up or carry things in lieu of the behavior of her younger sister. cecilia is reckless and insolent, does what she likes, and anya is jealous, but not jealous enough to do the same. anya is held to a higher standard as she’s meant to set an example and there’s a bit of bitterness that grows in her because of that.
anya teaches herself as much about finance and business as salvatore and nico, but instead of her business or career prospects, her parents talk only of marriage proposals and future prospects. the education in espionage is a placeholder, she learns things so she’ll be able to make intelligent small talk at dinner parties or be a good companion for a man someday, not because she can run an empire. it’s very frustrating, but she takes this quietly, as always.
(DRUG ABUSE/OPIOIDS TW) anya breaks her ankle in dance practice when she’s 16, a compound fracture. it’ll heal, but she will never be able to dance in the same way again. there’s a numbness inside of her that only seems to be assuaged by the pills prescribed by her doctor that are intended to ease the pain. the pills ease the tightness in your chest every time she sits at the dinner table and long after her ankle heals, anya continues to use the pills like a crutch.
(OVERDOSE TW) she overdoses at 17 and is sent to a rehab facility. the entire ordeal is done very quietly, made to seem like a pleasant vacation – a dirty secret, something to be ashamed of, and it’s emphasized that anya should be so grateful to her family for taking care of her when she’s such a disappointment. she spends the summer at the best facility that money can by, and she returns clean, determined not to be such a disappointment, but the numbness doesn’t seem to quite fade.
she heads to gallagher academy at 19, following her brother nico to school in america. she has no idea of the legal proceedings going on under her nose because she’s just so excited to get out of the house, unaware why her parents are so quick to send her away. nico hates it, finds it unpleasant and uncouth and a lot of the students are slovenly, but anya loves it, thrives under the guise of freedom and the ability to speak in a classroom where her voice matters.
naturally, the casiraghi family loses everything, as you might recall. her parents say that anya’s lucky she’s pretty because she could still marry nicely, and if it’s soon then the casiraghi name might still mean something. they remind anya of how much she owes them, how good they were to her when she attempted to sour the family name.
PERSONALITY.
DIPLOMATIC. is really good at choosing her words in a way that keeps the peace and is very intentional about the language that she chooses to use. she believes a lot in 'fairness’ and everyone getting a fair chance at things, so on, and she’s good at controlling difficult situations without upsetting ppl.
NURTURING. has a very caring personality and always wants to look after others. she’s this way with plants and animals as well, and i think she’s really good at encouraging people to achieve their goals or advocate for themselves, she just can’t...do that for herself. but she will take care of u and smother u but in a loving way.
RELIABLE. will show up at your doorstep in the rain with an umbrella, the first person to complete everything in the group project, if she makes you a promise she will follow through and then some. u can say some shit about anya, but she is fucking dependable and will come through for you whenever you need her most or you don’t think you need her at all, she’s still there.
NON-CONFRONTATIONAL. will go out of her way to avoid a fight or try to keep the peace, she will also do this with others, putting herself in the middle of things to keep other people from fighting – she just will do ANYTHING to avoid a confrontation. annoying tbh.
NAIVE. she really doesn’t know much about the world at large and will always find herself believing the best in people or hoping for the best case scenario when it isn’t always true. this could be seen as a good thing, but i think pretty much anyone has the ability to take advantage of her, it’s not hard.
TIMID. anya has always had trouble advocating for herself and what she really wants, she has a lack of courage when it comes to fighting for her own passions and will easily take a backseat for others to take the spotlight. one direction vc: u don’t know ur beautiful
HEADCANONS.
idk why my brain was like . try to make this char into modern commentary on the 50s housewife but here we are
i had no idea what i was doing with her late-talking thing except trying to somehow manifest how oppressive her home was, but rowan sent me some article about einstein syndrome and how late talkers like anya are highly analytical thinkers so we’re going with that !
was jumped on by a very big dog when she was very small and her face got scratched, so she has a bit of a fear of large dogs...it’s not that she doesn’t like them in theory, they just scare her and she hasn’t seemed to outgrow it.
still loves to dance even though she’s well aware that she could never really do it professionally or on stage because of the way her ankle won’t bend, but you can usually catch her...somewhere on gallagher’s campus where she could practice privately ?
also does a lot of yoga to center herself, she loves early mornings and generally her routine is to get up, make a cup of tea, watch the sunrise and then do a little bit of yoga. routine makes her feel in control so she has a habit of sticking to it.
loves to bake and is really good at it ! happy to binge great british bakeoff with anyone but then she will want to try all of the recipes and challenges herself. she likes the exact science of it and it’s another one of her hobbies that helps her feel like she maintains a sort of balance within herself. if you do it right, it all works out – baking makes sense.
she’s had one certain relationship when she was pretty young and definitely is not a person for one night stands, so...she’s a virgin !
in general she is baby but she is also mom.
does not like most green vegetables but especially brussel sprouts.
will wince when other people curse, has a tendency to speak very proper herself because of the way that she was raised. has extremely good manners, table or otherwise.
gets really easily overwhelmed at big parties or functions with crowds of people and will generally find some excuse in order to, well, excuse herself. she just feels like she has to be ON all the time and it’s very exhausting to her, would much rather curl up and watch movies or something.
is very straight edge, doesn’t drink/smoke/etc as a result of her past, she stays away from anything that could increase temptation and make her fall back into past habits.
had/has a cat at home named gio, technically the family cat but it always felt the most like anya’s and it would sleep with her and everything however since the house was seized, no one has been able to find gio </3
WANTED CONNECTIONS.
best friend – i know, it’s hard to just plot this, but ! i would love someone who maybe was her roommate last year, the first person that anya met on campus and they just clicked right away and made anya feel really at home. i would love if this character was a foil for anya’s nurturing, softspoken nature, so a girl who is a bit louder and more confident.
childhood crush – idk someone who could have known the casiraghi family for years or operated in that scene, maybe from a wealthy family and anya has a long-time unrequited crush on them. anya’s really kind, but she probably acts a bit standoffish or rude toward this character, so they probably think she hates them.
bad influence – a character who’s a bit on the wild side who’s turned anya into their project – they want to get her out of her shell, help anya let loose and get out more, but maybe this is also some bad temptation for her since she has some...old bad habits.
good influence (on) – anya is PEAK mom friend, so i’m looking for a connection that really displays that, someone she looks after. she’s the first person they call when they’re too fucked up and she’s always texting them the homework (and maybe the answers too).
ex-family friends – maybe your character’s family testified against the casiraghi family in the court case and helped send anya’s parents to prison. so, anya and your character used to be close friends but now she avoids your character out of familial obligation.
fake dating? anya’s parents would like to pressure her into an engagement or see her with someone well-off, so if your character is from a rich asf family, perhaps they’ve done anya a solid. they’re not actually fake dating around campus or lying to their friends, but they’re close friends with anya and might go home with her to perpetrate the lie on a holiday when she goes to see sal and maybe they have taken a few cute selfies together for anya to send home – it would probably be YOUR character that suggests this to anya and encourages her to have a bit of freedom, so i imagine our chars would be friends.
first love/ex – someone that anya might have known or met when she was younger, probably through family connections. they would’ve been around 15 at the time, so a genuine first relationship (like probably first kiss for her), but at this age her mental health was really bad and they probably broke up as a result of going to rehab. perhaps they feel guilty about not being more supportive or perhaps they did all they could but it was too heavy? we can discuss, but either way, super angsty.
protector – idk i would just love if someone saw how much of herself she puts into taking care of others and wanted to take care of her/look out for her instead and they’re just that friend who is really protective of her and reminds her to look after herself too
crush – i just want her to have a little bit of a crush/affinity for a girl that helps her realize that she’s not straight because she’s too repressed and never considered anything except heterosexuality til this point idk i just like when girls.
enemy – probably an ex-friend or something like that. maybe anya trusted them with a secret and they betrayed her or they tried to throw her under the bus to gain something. or maybe anya just got on your character’s bad side by being too much of a goody-two-shoes.
idk give me someone that relentlessly flirts with her because they think it’s hilarious that she gets so shy and doesn’t really know what to do about it, and she really does not know what to do about it !
also am down to brainstorm since i know the casiraghis already have a bit of a reputation so...i’m blessed taking a sibling connection and perhaps we can just bounce off of things you’ve already plotted with deanna and/or kit ( cecilia & n*co ) !
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