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ashessonfire · 1 year

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Hello, i have a potential kaz x reader request for you!! I, for some reason, love the idea of a very soft/domestic kaz moment with reader who isn’t involved in the crime life. So what about y/n being married to kaz and for some reason she makes her way down to the crow club (maybe someone broke into the house or something) and kaz is extreamly confused and concerned and the rest if the crows are like "andddd who are you?"

if you don't feel it, feel free to ignore!

'Intruder' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - Kaz is a highly secretive man, even to his closest friends, but what happens when a panicked citizen rushes into the Crow Club demanding his presence? It could even suggest that he had the ability to love. - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Civilian!Reader (Gender neautral)(married for at least a few years but not specified) - Warnings: Thief enters readers house, brief mention of fighting and injury, a knife?? Kaz just being super soft for you! <333 PART TWO NOW POSTED! (click here) - A/N: Thank you for ALL the love on the last post, and my first fic ever! I hope this does just as well and its enjoyed too. I know its not as fluffy as maybe expected but i really like how it turned out. PLEASE KEEP REQUESTING!!(some moonknight coming soon) <3333

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The chilling wind of Ketterdam rushed past your face, adding to your already watering eyes that couldn’t stop frantically searching around for further threats.

You had been enjoying a quiet morning, browsing the market, drinking tea with friends, and even finding a new hat for Kaz. All was serene, until you turned the lock in the front door, only to be confronted by a menacing figure, knife gripped in one hand, Kaz’s favourite (and most expensive) tea set in the other.

A small gasp escaped you, before your mind took control, rushing forward to land a harsh blow directly on the figure’s nose, just at the right angle like Kaz had demonstrated.

He let out a murderous scream whilst dropping the tea set onto the ground, the shattering of the pieces echoing in your heart and mind. However, this granted you enough time to grab the edge of his jacket and pull him through the doorframe, using every ounce of your strength.

He stumbled down the steps of the small apartment, loosing his footing and falling rapidly, landing brutally on the cobblestone street below and roaring in pain as a jolting crack resounded from where he landed.

Without thinking, you scrambled inside, bolted the door, and ran as fast as you possibly could out of the side entrance, internally crying as your boots struggled through the remains of your husband's most beloved item.

As you struggled through the tight alleyway, you prayed that the Stadwatch had noticed the commotion and apprehended the man. As you bolted down the poorly lit streets of the barrel, thoughts of terror began plaguing your mind.

What if Kaz hadn’t taught you to defend yourself? What if you had reacted too slowly? Would Kaz be angry with you for not finishing the job? How would ‘Dirtyhands’ react to your utter horror at one intruder?

You were abruptly ripped from your thoughts by the unmistakable image of a crow, hanging magnificently above the crowded street. Pushing your way through the crowd, you suppressed the nerves rising in your chest, threatening to choke you, as you entered the crow club for the first time.

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The unmistakable smell of alcohol and smoke clouded your senses immediately, as crowds of ‘pigeons,’ as Kaz may call them, wandered around the floor without a care for others around them.

As frightening as the previous events had been, you didn’t allow yourself to be overwhelmed by this too, shoving your violently shaking hands into your pockets to stop the visible nerves from showing.

Jesper and Wylan sat in close proximity at the bar edge, as far from the yelling and cheering of the customers as they possibly could. Your gazed locked onto the face of the tall Zemeni man, thinking back to the hundreds of times Kaz’s mask had slipped, and he had spoken fondly of his best friend.

Despite Kaz’s firm objection to verbal communication, he often fell victim to your warmth and comfort, his affections for his crew spilling into casual conversation, almost subconsciously. Of course, the Bastard of the Barrel couldn’t hold onto something as weak as friendship. However, this meant that you were very familiar with each of his ‘crows,’ despite never officially meeting any of them.

Mustering all the courage you could, you sucked in a sharp breath, preparing yourself for the challenging journey to your last hope at finding him.

You weaved your way cautiously between the rowdy groups, dodging drunken gestures and swinging arms, until you reached the pair sat at the bar, panic spreading through your body like wildfire. You made note to keep your hands firmly tucked within the safety of your jacket, in a feeble attempt to keep up a façade of confidence.

As their gazes turned towards you, you gently cleared your throat in the hopes of removing any indication of fright, and in turn, weakness from your voice.

“I’m looking for Kaz? Kaz Brekker?” you stuttered out, eyes darting around to avoid the quizzical gazes of the two men in front of you. Under different circumstances you wished to have met them when your usual air of joy blanketed not only you, but all of those who encountered you too. Yet it seemed like the Saints weren't on your side for that wish today.

You were snapped back from your thoughts, as they glanced at each other, sharing an unspoken but clear sense of bewilderment between them at your odd request. Often drunken pigeons, or rough street urchins would request to see the boss, but it wasn’t a common sight to see a regularly dressed citizen in such a state demanding an audience with Mr Brekker himself.

“I’m afraid it’s pretty difficult to get a meeting with the boss, always busy you know?” spoke the man you assumed to be Jesper, in a kind but skeptical tone, swirling the drink in his hand as he failed to decipher the reason for your visit.

Panic began to claw its way deeper into your chest, as you quickly blurted out “Please, its important, I need to see Kaz. Please bring me to see him.” The sudden outburst once again surprised the men, however Wylan’s gaze softened at the clear desperation on your features, and Jesper’s confusion morphed into something that resembled pity.

Wylan subtly leaned into Jesper, whispering “I think you should take her, she seems pretty desperate?” causing Jesper to let out a sigh before meeting your gaze yet again.

Reluctantly, Jesper stood up, stretching his limbs well, before letting out a dramatic sigh, followed by a feigned annoyance at the request, analyzing you for a moment before stating, “Let’s go see the boss then.”

He quickly turned back to you, flashing a lopsided, yet winning grin, which put to rest some of the bubbling anxiety that was becoming inescapable. As you ascended the stairs to his office, a skeptical looking woman glanced curiously up at the three of you, hopping out of her chair to trail behind you, whilst stuffing the remains of what looked like a waffle into her mouth.

Before you could inquire about the third individual following your small group, you were suddenly met with the dark oak door of Kaz Brekker’s office. Jesper shot another reassuring grin back at you, as he rapidly knocked on the office door and let himself in before an answer called out.

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The instant you saw your husband, the tears glossed over your eyes, shining with a dangerous threat of escaping. However, to your surprise, you were able to win the valiant battle for a little longer.

You knew how vital it was for your husband to keep his personal life separated from his work life; one wrong move, and you could end up in the hands of another gang, tortured in exchange for information on the Dregs. This knowledge was what kept you from barreling towards his desk without a second thought, with even the smallest slip from Jesper potentially ruining every bit of yours and Kaz’s struggle to break down his walls.

Kaz sat at his desk at the centre of the bleak room, a faint patch of light hitting his face from a glowing street lantern, casting deep shadows across his sharp features. His shoulders tensed as he remained solely focused on the blueprint in front of him, his harsh glare at the sheet almost seemed as if he was planning to murder it. Perhaps if you weren’t so shaken you may have let out a soft laugh at his pure concentration.

“What is it? I have no time for irrelevant interruption, this marksheet needs to be completed before twelve bells tonight,” A sharp voice suddenly cut through the thick silence. Jesper cleared his throat before confronting his boss, shifting his weight between each foot at the temper that Kaz was evidently displaying.

“Well, you see, I was sitting downstairs with Wylan at the bar, when all of a sudden…” Jesper started, but was cut off by a deadly look from Kaz to get to the point. As his gaze shot upwards towards the sharpshooter, he finally noticed the second figure in the room and his heart plummeted.

Why were you here?

Kaz’s mind began spinning, grasping for any logical reason as to why you were in the one of the most dangerous staves of the Barrel, requiring his assistance.

An identical panic to yours seized his chest as he inspected your state, your hair was windswept, eyes glossed over and glinting with a touch of fear, a visible shake to your arms and legs, which he had been fortunate enough to never experience until now.

You looked utterly terrified.

A single murderous look was enough for Jesper to throw his hands up in defense, and saunter quietly out of the room, glancing curiously back at the two of you as he shut the door. Jesper thought to himself that his life in the long run would be far more valuable than the price of his curiosity now.

Although Kaz is a man of few words, he seemed truly speechless, barely managing to register his own steps as he moved slowly towards you, each limp bringing his comfort closer and closer to you. Once he had reached your figure, he noticed you had curled in on yourself, hands clasped firmly together in front of you, and eyes darting rapidly around his face, searching for something, as it appeared to him.

He slowly reached towards you, and with a gloved hand, tenderly unwound your fingers from their iron grip, instead intertwining them with his own to bring you comfort and slow your light but swift breathing. Kaz remained tight-lipped, words rushing through his head, yet not formulating into any combination which he thought would be appropriate to calm you down.

He gazed intensely into your eyes, softening with each moment as he took in your shaken state, something that was rare due to his exceptional ability to keep you away from his violent life.

Until now.

Yet you had taught him not to run anymore when he encounters challenges, leading him to battle his mind later, and care for you in the present. Plus, you had the courage to make your way through the barrel in this condition, the least he could do was give you his everything.

You released a long, shaky sigh, staring only at Kaz’s chest now in order to match your breaths, imagining that your hearts were beating together too. You knew Kaz was struggling to find a grip within his thoughts, fingers twitching against your own as his body worked overtime, in a way it only did for you.

Several minutes passed in a strange silence, as the pair of you basked in each other's presence, the close distance allowing both of you to be assured the other is safe and within reach, yet the tension and anxiety still buzzed through the air.

“Someone broke in, I’m not sure who or from where. Tried to steal your favorite tea set, you know the one you brought back from Ravka once? I hit him square like you said. But it, but it boke. Shattered actually. It gave me enough time to run, but I don’t know. He may have followed or…” you suddenly burst out, the emotions flowing out of you through your words, and soon to follow were the tears.

You were cut off in your rambling however, as a feather-light kiss graced your temple, drawing you into a pool of warmth, suddenly able to feel the heat of the fire and the glow of the candles that surrounded Kaz’s office, likely gifts of yours.

Although Kaz’s voice was hardened, you knew he was holding back significantly to soothe you, building up wrath to unleash on the unfortunate man who entered your house earlier. The claws of the anxiety released their hold on you, allowing you to breathe deeply for the first time in hours.

“I’m here, darling, and you don’t need to think about that anymore,” he eventually breathed out, “I'll take care of it. I promise. I promise you,” he whispered against your forehead, again leaving the faintest outline of a kiss on the soft skin.

Whilst he was nowhere near healed, over the years you had opened up his deepest wounds and started to stitch them up, with each moment the pain easing ever so slightly. Direct touches were now common, with light pecks, or hand holding being Kaz's most favored actions.

Sometimes if you were lucky, you could get a short kiss on the lips, or a long hug through the safety of many layers; each being evident signs of his love for you, and how you were truly the only one to crack the code to the Bastard of the Barrel's heart.

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Kaz didn’t leave your side for the remainder of the night, bringing you anything you asked for, sitting the armchair closer to his desk to keep him company, hands held tightly until he deemed it safe enough to escort you home.

Wrapping you warmly with his largest coat, he gently placed his best hat atop your head, offering a small smile and breathy laugh as it tilted at an angle. Looking up to meet his gaze, you returned the grin, smile spreading to your eyes and cheeks. Kaz carefully adjusted the edges of the coat to obscure your face, being thorough in the process to avoid any identification of who was accompanying him.

As the door clicked open, and the pair stepped into the hallway, pinkies interlinked, a group of three snooping crows barreled backwards, hitting into each other and the walls. Kaz sent a deathly glare at each of them, as they stood in shock at the sight before them, Jesper gasping, Wylan gaping with fright, and Nina's smirk widening by the second.

After a series of extreme threats hurled at the group outside his office, Kaz pushed past them and dragged you with him, turning his coat collar upwards to hide the growing embarrassment colouring his face.

He crushed the feeling down, instead turning to his internal plotting to enact revenge on your behalf, inwardly smirking at the image of the man begging him for mercy as he pays for his offence in blood.

Meanwhile, Nina stood grinning to herself, proud of her newfound knowledge which she was certain she could use against Kaz at some point soon. Because from that office, she not only heard the hammering heart of the poor citizen girl, but also the one of a love-struck gang leader too.

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#kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader fluff #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader imagines #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n

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zoe-oneesama · 8 days

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Now that it’s been brought back to the forefront of my mind in regards to yesterday’s SL asks, it really is genuinely kinda nuts how the potions were revealed in Season 2 and have only physically appeared (i.e. not just been mentioned or shown in a one-off picture or alternate timeline) in 13 out of what’s now 92 episodes (not counting specials) since their closest-to-chronological debut. Even more wild is the fact that, like you pointed out, only 3 out of 7 potion powers are canonically known to date. Apparently That Guy tweeted a few years back that one of the remaining ones is supposed to be a Fire potion (which, if true, may be the one Marinette was trying to figure out the “spicy little rock” ingredient for in Mr. Pigeon 72?) that gives the user the ability to walk on lava and/or a resistance to scorching heat, but they haven’t been able to use it since “Fire is something very difficult to use in shows watched by kids, because we have to pay extra-care that they won't see fire as a cool thing and play with it afterwards. Broadcasters tend to prefer not showing it at all.” To which I’m like?? A) You guys STAY hopping between whether you want your target demographic to be little kids or early teens in actual practice. B) There have to be a million ways that you can blatantly write the idea that fire is dangerous which is why the Fire potion would be NEEDED (or, y’know, have more faith in your audience’s ability to intuitively understand that from the get-go). C) If you already understood that a fire power up was genuinely likely to be a hard no-go with your broadcasters, maybe change your plans to only conceptualizing 6 instead of 7 potions before putting them in the actual show???

Right? And like, he said Lava as well. So do something WITH LAVA if you can't use fire! (I bet it would be easier to animate too!) Or, or! Invent a kind of goo or acid that burns LIKE Lava so they have to use the suit! That could be the debut episode, where it's impossible to get close because of the heat and burn of it until BAM! Fire Suit.

It's not like you have to use the suits OFTEN, they've only used the Ice one like two times I think, just do a debut episode and then use it for Ordinary Heroing, like actually running into a burning building and saving people. Pretty sure even kids don't think house fires are cool, so you don't HAVE to associate fire with a "cool" akuma.

A long time ago when I was ranting about this I was informed by a Anon that the others were "revealed" at some convention or expo and they were things like Air and Space (space hadn't been shown at the time), Sun and Moon, and like...Soul? So, what's the difference between Air and Space? Are Sun and Moon supposed to be Light and Dark, how is that following the Environmental Costume Change of the three we know? Wtf is Soul? Maybe it's a lack of cohesion that's making this difficult for them.

The more I hear about them, the more I think this idea was never fully fleshed out and will never BE fleshed out.

#power ups #writing salt #ml salt

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be-missed · 6 months

Text

Cool About It

Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

Summary: Jenna and Y/N are life-long best friends, but can Y/N still stand and hide her feelings after Jenna pulled a prank on her?

Warning/s: curse words, notify me if there are any.

A/N: Hi, hope this can be a good substitute for Chap 4 of Not Strong Enough. Enjoy! (clearing things out, this is not the Chapter 4 for Not Strong Enough, this is just a substitute story for you all, so that you have something to read while waiting for the Chapter 4 for Not Strong Enough.)

Masterlist

Nothing To Lose (Part 2) | Bad for Business (Part 3)

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"Come on it'll be fun, we can walk around the park and then ride the boat." Jenna explained while lying down in Y/N's bed and scrolling through her phone.

Y/N looked at her with a questioning look and said "Isn't that a bad idea? Because people might hover over us and people will just follow us and that is something that my anxiety can't handle."

"Noooo, pleaseee. This is a good idea, it's a Thursday afternoon, nobody or only least people will be at the park." Jenna answered, pouting.

"Jenna, stop." Y/N said with a smile on her face "You know it's hard for me when you do that."

Ans Jenna just smiled because she knows that Y/N is so close to going "Pleeaasseeee, pretty pleaseeee. I'll buy you an ice cream." Jenna proposed.

"Hmm, you think an ice cream can make me agree with your plan, huh?" Y/N answered.

"Yes, I know that you will agree to me sooner. Just imagine us binding after such a long time of not seeing each other. Also, may I remind you that I'll be leaving the country in December to film for Wednesday so this is a great time to spend with me before we get situated again in face time." Jenna is now showing Y/N a sad face.

Jenna's statement made Y/N wonder, that yes, it is true that Jenna's break will be over soon, meaning that she will be receiving a call or a message from Jenna during ungodly times which, she diligently answers, whether it may be a call or a message.

Y/N sighs and Jenna knows that y/N will now agree with her plan. But before Y/N agrees, Jenna started to jump in Y/N's bed and smiles at Y/N.

"You know me so fucking well Jenna Marie Ortega." Y/N said while scratching her brow "Yes, sure we'll go to the park."

And then Jenna went ot hug Y/N and delivers ton of kisses on Y/N's face.

Y/N thought, "Fucking hell, how can I disagree with this girl. If she tells me to jump on a tall something, I would even do some back flips. She wants me to run around New York City? I would do it with my tits out. She want me to marry her and be the mother of her children? I will for sure do that without a doubt. The last part, is a false hope. I know Jenna isn't into me since the first time that I met her."

"Okay, collect your things and get dressed, we're going to Central Park." Y/N said and taps Jenna's crown and smiled at her like a cute puppy.

Even if Jenna and Y/N are together, they will literally wear the headphones that they bought for each other, just to drown out their environment. But even the noise cancelling headphone can't stop them to communicate with each other. After knowing each other so well for years, they don't need to communicate verbally.

While walking, Y/N then got lost again with her own thoughts. She feels that Jenna knows that she likes her more than a best friend should have for quite some time now. That is why in the past few months, Y/N has been getting a lot more "busier" when it comes to Jenna. She tries so hard to detach herself from the girl. If Jenna won't be kind enough to be cruel about it and just reject her, then Y/N will try to be cool about it even though it's probably not even true.

Arriving at Central Park, the two girls started to walk nonchalantly, going where their feet take them, not caring about the people that took notice of them.

They sometime give snacks to the pigeons or the ducks that they passed by, try to pet the dog that was sitting beside their owner. Taking a look at thier surroundings, both of them realised that a lot from the park changed, the becnhes that were once there, the trees thatvwere cut out and displaced by another plant, and the rusts on the bench that they always pass by.

Y/N was walking not until Jenna stopped by the row boat rentals and Y/N just moved her head from side to side "Nuh uh, Jenna. We won't and we can't." Y/N said.

"But why? We used to ride the boats and just row around, pretending to be a part of a rowing team." Jenna stated pulling at Y/N's sleeve.

"Jen, that was before." Y/N reasoned.

Jenna looked sad "Do you not want to be seen with me? Is that it?"

That was the last thing that Y/N wants Jenna to think of because it is not true.

"No, absolutely not. I just think that..." Y/N said not knowing any reason on why not to ride the boat.

"See you have no reasons to not ride it. So please let's ride the boat." Jenna said, and with that they got a boat, just the two of them and started to row.

Many people are also in their own boat, talking, playing, laughing and admired their surroundings. Also, Y/N and Jenna's boat didn't get unnoticed by the people in the park or inside the boat. People were waving at them and calling Jenna's name. Jenna waved back or replied to them but her focus was still focused on you, not until you hear Jenna coughed.

Many boats surrounds you as this is where one of the good spots for a picture. It means that many people also surrounds you and can literally hear each other.

"Mhmm, Y/N, I don’t know where to start..." Jenna said with a smirk ok her face and Y/N didn't know what's going on, Jenna then continued "We have known each other for a lot of years, we have been with each other through our ups and downs and we are still here." Jenna then secretly took the ring from her pointer finger and present it in front of you.

Now. Now Y/N is so baffled with what is Jenna doing, people started to look at them and paid attention to what is happening inside their boat. Even the people who are in land started to stop and watch the scene unfolding in front of them.

"I have loved you ever since I met you and I want to love you 'till the day I die. I just want to ask if, will you marry me?" Jenna got up from her seat and started to kneel with her right knee.

Y/N's thoughts are all over. Why is Jenna fucking doing this? Is this her way to fucking play with her feelings? Is this all a joke to Jenna? She wants Jenna to be cruel about it and just reject her but not this way, Y/N will try her best to be cool about it even if it's not, but this stunt? Y/N didn't know if she can still see Jenna and not say some hurtful things towards the girl.

Everyone around them started to cheer and fished their phone out to capture this moment, because hell, Jenna Ortega is proposing. Flashing of lights where delivered from each phone that is hanging out, hollers and congratulations can be heard in different directions, claps can be heard everywhere and that triggered Y/N.

It was so loud around her, and why the fuck is Jenna proposing to her.

"Jenna I need to get out." Y/N said.

"What do you mean?" Jenna started to see the panic in Y/N's eyes.

"Fuck Jenna I need to get out of here" Y/N stated and started to row the boat in a faster pace that forced Jenna to take a seat.

As the boat started to get near the dock, Y/N didn't gave Jenna a time to talk and bolted away. Away from the girl, away from the people, and away from the world.

---

Many hours has passed but Jenna can't still contact Y/N. Jenna even waited in front of Y/N's front door for hours but there were no signs of her best friend.

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A/N: Hoped this is good enough. Thoughts and comments are open, thanks for reading!

Nothing To Lose (part 2)

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #fanfic #fiction #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader

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buckyalpine · 1 year

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Hello, first I would like to say that I love your writing and it normally makes me really happy while I am at some boring classes at college, so thanks for that hahaha ❤️

Also, I saw your requests are open and since I am absolutely obsessed with your angst for bucky, I am here to request some.

My idea would be something like this: reader has been in the compound with the avengers for a while now and besides really caring for the team, she has some problems being more open with friendships and relationships in general, cause of some insecurities with her personality, but in somehow she feels really comfortable with Bucky and they are kinda of great friends?

And then she's just waking by the compound looking for him one day and she hears him speaking something bad about her? Something about how he feels like she's overwhelming him cause she just has him as a friend and no one else and it kinda makes her look for him a lot for comfort ( I actually have no idea what he could be speaking, so this is just an idea but it could be anything, really) maybe this could actually be a misunderstanding and he did not meant in that way? I would love if it had a lot of angst and a happy ending, but of course is up to you!

YES I live for miscommunication and comfort and this type of angst, this concept is everything!!

warnings: Angst, miscommunication, idiots in love/ friends to lovers, plenty of fluffff

"Hey sugar plum" You smiled, plopping beside Bucky on the couch while he scrolled through Netflix documentaries with a large bowl of m&ms in his lap. "Whatcha watching"

"Haven't decided yet, pick something Jellybean" He handed you the remote and candy bowl, throwing his arm around the back of the couch while you got settled in and flicked through the selection of tv shows.

"Of course" Bucky snorted, shaking his head with amusement as Unsolved Mysteries started to play. You grinned, comfortable nestled against his side while the rest of the team joined one by one; Sam swiped a handful of chocolate from the bowl only to have Bucky swat at his hand like a cat.

"Get your own candy pigeon pants"

"What, y/n gets some but I don't" Sam scoffed in fake offence while Bucky shrugged, throwing one at him.

"Well you're not y/n" Bucky shrugged while you felt your heart flutter. You loved everyone with your whole heart, you really did, but no one else made you feel safe the way Bucky did. Being around him felt like being constantly wrapped in a thick fluffy blanket. Ever since you had joined the team, you struggled to fully be yourself around everyone.

Not that anyone treated you differently; but being surrounded some of the strongest and most brilliant people on the planet gnawed at your insecurities. Steve was a sweetheart, Nat was incredibly skilled and drop dead gorgeous, Tony could charm his way out of just about anything. Everyone had something that made them exceptional and then there was you. You tended to be on the quieter side, fueled with self doubt over if you actually brought anything to the team.

Were you really all that interesting?

What did you really add to the group?

Did anyone even notice your presence when you were around?

Even if they did, did it make a difference?

You'd overthink your way into a quiet corner wondering why you were the way that you were. No one else could see the way you'd worry yourself into a ball of self-doubt, figuring you were just shy and they didn't want to mistakenly push any boundaries.

Then there was Bucky.

Being around Bucky was different.

Something about him was warm and welcoming. He didn't hesitate to pull you out of your hiding spaces around the compound, making sure you joined for team events and game nights. Any insecurities you had always melted away when you were around him because he made you feel special.

Made you feel wanted.

The night went by with everyone sharing their own conspiracy theories over what they think actually happened at the end of each episode while you stayed tucked by Bucky's side. Neither of you had any plans on calling it an early night, while the rest of the team eventually all went to bed as you switched to a new show.

"I'm going to grab more snacks, want anything sugar plum?" You were about to make your way to the kitchen when Bucky placed his hand on your thigh, making you stay seated.

"I'll get it, tell me what you want Jellybean" He shook his head, grabbing the throw blanket and tossing it over your legs so you'd be comfy for the rest of the night while he went to grab the snacks. You didn't have to actually say anything, Bucky knew exactly what you wanted. He came back with half the kitchen raided on a tray along with a beer, pulling you to his side, letting you snuggle against his chest.

You let out a content sigh, unwrapping a chocolate bar while Bucky snuck a bite, the warmth of his body making it difficult for you to stay awake like you'd planned. You eventually fell asleep, waking up to find yourself tucked comfortably in your bed as the sun poured into your room, your body still wrapped in the throw he had covered you with.

You felt your body warm up at the way he was so gentle with you, having carried you to your room without making you stir the slightest. There wasn't anyone else you'd feel so comfortable around.

He was your safe space.

You found yourself hopping out of bed with more energy than usual, deciding to train in the morning instead of your late night workouts, if you were lucky, maybe you'd run into Bucky after his morning run. You made your way to the kitchen, smiling when you heard his voice, along with Sam's, the both of them bickering over something irrelevant as per usual. The closer you got, the more serious their conversation sounded making you wonder if something had come up with a mission

And then you heard your name.

You stopped half way, staying as still as possible part of you wanting to run back to your room while covering your ears, the other part of you curious to know what they were saying. You wanted to move but your feet were glued to the ground, your heart hammering out of your chest.

"How about y/n?"

"Uh y/n..." You could hear the hesitation in his Bucky's as he contemplated his next words, his tone irritated. "She's whatever. It's not like that"

"Meaning?"

"Uh. I don't know, she sort of follows me around everywhere, there's not a day I don't see her but its not like I ask to see her"

You blinked, your stomach starting to churn. Did you follow him everywhere? You did see him everyday but you didn't realize you were following him.

"I mean she's only that way with you, she's definitely not that comfortable with Steve or me" You could hear Sam trying to reason with Bucky but all he did was scoff, your heart wrenching further.

"Yeah. It's overwhelming"

You wanted to run, wishing you had stayed in bed for an extra 5 minutes, your body now hot, not from how safe he made you feel but from embarrassment. Of course he was overwhelmed with your clinginess, he didn't want to have to deal with a burden like you. He had so much of his own issues to deal with and then there was you.

Guilt started to cloud your mind as you thought about all the times you spent time with Bucky, staying by his side while he reassured you or comforted you. How many of those times were actually annoying for him, how many times did he wish you would suck it up and leave him alone instead.

"She's not really friends with anyone else on the team, I'm not sure why she hangs out with me specifically that much" He sounded even more irritated than before; the rest of the conversation a melted into dull buzz, your heartbeat thudding in your skull.

Your eyes stung, hot tears flooding your lash line at his words. Your bottom lip, trembled despite how hard you were biting down on it; your forced your feet to move, slowly backing away from the kitchen until you were far enough to run to your room. You slammed the door shut, instructing FRIDAY to soundproof the walls and turn away anyone that came by before breaking down into sobs.

All of your insecurities were dialed to 100 along with more being added to the list.

How did you not see how annoying you were being. You felt awful, embarrassed, confused.

Why didn't he say anything?

Of course he wouldn't, he probably felt pity for you. A grown adult woman who struggled to open up and still struggled with her personality. An absolute joke.

You let the day go by, too ashamed to face anyone, let alone Bucky. If he felt irritated, there was no doubt the rest of the team knew exactly how annoying he found you. You couldn't bring yourself to see any of them, deciding to skip both lunch and dinner instead while burying under the covers.

****

Bucky frowned when he didn't see you the whole day, his worries growing more when he didn't see you come by for dinner either.

"Where's y/n?"

"I checked on her during lunch but FRIDAY said she'd requested to be alone" Nat looked at Bucky, confused over how he, of all people, didn't know where you were.

"Aren't you both joined at the hip, how do you not know Barnes" Tony wiggled his eyebrow while Bucky rolled his eyes, too worried about you to retort to Tony's comment.

"I saw her once this morning in the training room but not after that. She seemed fine then" Steve had seen you that morning, happy to see you brighter when he had spoken to you, not missing your shy smile when he'd mentioned Bucky's name. "No one else saw her all day?"

Bucky was immediately out of his seat, making his way over to your room to see you, only to have FRIDAY respond instead.

"Ms. Y/l/n has asked that no one disturb her until further notice"

"For fucks sake" He mumbled, knocking at your door one more time.

"I'm sorry Sergeant Barnes, Ms. y/l/n has asked to be left alone"

Bucky was taken aback when he was tuned away; in the few times you had locked your door from everyone else he'd always been exempt from that list. Why didn't you want to see him either? He reluctantly made his way back, his mind now racing over what could have possibly happened from the night before to now.

****

You had managed to avoid Bucky the next few days, purposefully staying away from the areas you knew he'd be around and staying in your room for most of the day. Whenever he tried to speak to you, you'd find a way to escape the conversation, his words reeling in your mind, reminding you he found you annoying. Overwhelming. Clingy.

You couldn't understand why he was going out of his way to try and talk to you when you were trying so hard to stay away, your heart in pain not being able to spend time with the person you felt the safest with. Your mind made it impossible to get a wink of sleep; you made your way down to the kitchen for a late night snack instead. You grabbed a bowl of popcorn, turning the TV on to your favorite comfort shows needing a temporary distraction.

"Jellybean?"

Bucky made his way through the living room after a late night workout, his heart jumping when his eyes landed on you. He was by your side in an instant, not noticing the way you froze when he sat beside you.

"Hi James"

Bucky blinked, his name sounding foreign on your tongue.

He didn't like it.

Not one bit.

Since when was he James.

"Uh, is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine" You forced a smile, scooting over so you weren't sitting too close to him, your mind racing trying to find a way out of the conversation. Bucky could sense your discomfort but he had no idea why, his heart beating harder against his chest when he noticed your eyes shift, as if you were looking for a way to escape.

"Are-are you sure?"

"Yup!"

"Doll" He noticed the way your eyes continued to flick around the room, refusing to meet his. "Somethings bothering you"

"What makes you say that"

"I-you called me by my name-you never do that"

"What else should I call you" You avoided his gaze, fidgeting with a lose string on a cushion while Bucky felt his stomach drop.

Were you upset with him?

"You always call me sugar plum. Only you do" He shrugged sadly, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout. "You don't call me James"

"Oh" Was all you could muster, feeling your throat close up, hot tears threatening to spill from your lash line. You tried to turn away from him only to have him gently cup your cheek, tilting your chin to face him. His heart broke seeing your glassy eyes while you chewed your lip to keep from crying.

"Please tell me what's wrong, did I do something? Did I say anything?"

"No" You whispered, swallowing thickly, pulling away from him only to have him take your hands in his to keep you from running away.

"C'mon y/n, please?"

"I-I don't mean to follow you around and be so clingy. I'm just trying to give you some space Bucky" You tried to keep your voice steady, hanging your head so he wouldn't see the tears run down your cheeks. Bucky let go of your hands to cup your cheeks again, his thumbs wiping away your tears.

"Jellybean, what are you-

"I heard you talking to Sam" You spat, now annoyed that he was here trying to talk to you when he was the one who felt you followed him around. "I heard you tell him I'm always around you. That you don't even ask to see me but I'm there. I didn't mean to be so overbearing. I felt safe with you so I was closest to you, I didn't realize you felt like I was following you".

"Sweetheart, it's not overwhelming for the reasons you think"

"Then what else could it be Bucky? You could have told me you needed some space, I would've understood. I wouldn't have spend so much time hanging out with you-

"No! I like when you're around me Jellybean" Bucky almost sounded offended you'd suggest such a thing while you shook your head, sniffling.

"You don't have to lie to me-

"Y/n, no. I promise doll, this is just a misunderstanding, that's not that I meant when I was talking to Sam"

"Then what did you mean?" You whispered, confused over what else he could have possibly meant. Bucky felt butterflies in his chest, not fully thinking this through. Should he tell you what the conversation was about? Could it be worse than you thinking he didn't even like you when the truth was the complete opposite?

"I don't want to ruin our friendship if I tell you" Bucky suddenly looked scared, his eyes wide like a lost puppy, vulnerable and afraid. He sucked in a breath before speaking, inching a little closer to you. "Sam was asking about if I'm seeing anyone. He thinks I need to put myself out there"

Oh.

A sudden pang of jealousy hit your chest, the flinch in your face not missed by Bucky.

"He was suggesting..." He bit his lip, chewing it nervously before continuing. "He asked if there was anything between us. He thought maybe you liked me because we're always together" Bucky continued to look at you like a kicked puppy, his own emotions now all over the place. "I didn't think you did. At least not in that way but he kept saying there was something between us"

"It didn't sound like you liked me very much" You shrugged while Bucky frantically shook his head, mentally scolding himself. "I thought you found me too clingy"

"Never. You're never too clingy. M'so so sorry doll, I didn't mean for it to come out that way, you're the only person who I can spend the whole day with, I'm not comfortable around others like I am with you. I love when you come around looking for me. I guess a part of me was upset because Sam wasn't the first to ask me why we weren't together and ask if we were more than friends. I didn't think you'd like me and it's overwhelming for me because I feel so much and...well"

"and?" Bucky blushed, struggling to get the next words out while you anxiously waited for him to continue.

"and I really like you" He whispered, squeezing your hand in his while you shifted closer, letting him pull you onto his lap. His arms circled around your waist, holding you close to him both your hearts racing, his nose bumping against yours.

"You like me?" You felt your cheeks heat up when he nodded, his blue eyes shyly peeking up at you through his lashes.

"I like you jellybean. A lot"

"Even more than m&m's?" You felt him hug you together, your lips brushing against his.

"More than m&m's" He closed the gap between you both, pressing his lips to yours, kissing you sweetly as you gently carded your fingers through his hair. He kissed you until you both needed air, a dopey smile on his face while you snuggled into his chest.

"Does that mean I'm your sugar plum again?" He whispered hopefully making you giggle, kissing him deeply again.

"Always, my sugar plum"

"My jellybean"

****

"Fucking finally" Tony mumbled, his hair ruffled, stifling a yawn as he walked through the living room, grinning at you and Bucky sleeping on the couch.

"I told him" Steve rolled his eyes, snapping a picture of you both cuddled on the couch while Sam snorted, nodding in approval. "Took them long enough"

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc

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pellucid-constellations · 7 months

Text

angstober (6)

Prompt: "Can't Go Home"

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/n: Whew 😮‍💨

angstober masterlist here ♡

~~~

“After this one, we’re getting our own place.”

Bucky’s sweet words found a home in your head. They nestled into the unkind parts of your brain as the battle went on, fear and pain and confusion mingling. Threatening to take over.

“I don’t care what the rest of them have to say about it. I’m sick of sharing you. Sick of living in this tower with forty million people.”

“I don’t think forty million people live here, Buck.”

“Shut up.”

You could feel the smile against your neck, the memory of his lips there as he spoke. Something blew up a few feet away from the hand-to-hand fight you were struggling with. You felt the heat along your side.

“I’ve always pictured a brownstone. Even back then.”

“Back then as in… before you were as old as my great-grandpa?”

“You’re awfully mouthy tonight.”

A truck flew overhead. You had no idea which side threw it. Banner jumped over it, grunting at the force. Not your side, then. This fight wasn’t going well.

“Well, back then,” Bucky playfully stressed, “I thought it’d be just me in there. Bachelor in New York City and all that. But now that I have you—”

He rolled over, encasing your head with his arms. His nose brushed yours as he spoke next, eyes achingly soft.

“Now that I have you, I’m thinking something else. Something far away. Maybe more upstate. We can get a horse.”

“A horse?” you laughed.

“Maybe ten horses.”

Pain erupted across your ribs. A boot imprinted there, pressing and deepening the bruise that had already been inflicted. You cried out, arms tightening around the creature thrashing against you. It eventually went lax and the pinch at your ribs subsided.

You hobbled into a sitting position, clutching your side. The battle around you raged on, screams and commands hurtled into the comm at your ear.

“How will the team contact us while we’re out in this vast, open countryside? Carrier pigeon?”

Bucky ran his fingers along your cheeks. “Don’t care. Hope they don’t contact us, actually.”

You shot up as gunfire littered the ground around you. Your break was over. It had only been about thirty seconds, but that was enough time for you to be targeted. The bullets were different though—bigger, almost…charged? You didn’t have a word for the current that seemed to run through them.

Didn’t want to have a word for it.

“How do you propose we do our jobs then?” you asked, humoring him, loving being under his gaze.

But Bucky became serious, brow lowering. After taking a moment, watching his thumb as is passed over your skin—

“I want to retire,” he whispered. “This is the big one, but then I want to be done. I want it to be just us. I want to be home. With you.”

Your name ripped through the air like a siren. You turned, craning your neck to catch the call, but it wasn’t fast enough.

You heard the shots before anything else. Your body braced for impact, braced for the end, but was met with nothing. A small groan was all you were left with, followed by the decimation of whatever had been shooting at you. Tony flew by in its wake, hands still flaming red from the blast.

When you turned your eyes back down, the battle ceased to exist. There were no sounds, no guns, no danger. There was just Bucky, pressed against your chest, breathing heavier than you’d ever seen him.

“Buck?” you whispered, reaching out to brace his arms. “Bucky?”

Bucky didn’t answer you. His knees buckled instead, and you fell to the ground alongside him. Maybe if you were stronger, faster, anything other than what you were, you would have been able to catch him. But you weren’t, so you fell with him, beside him, as you would be with everything in life.

You positioned him along your thighs, leaning back on your ankles as you examined him. You went to pull at this suit, but he stopped you, brushing your arm away. He reached up but didn’t make contact with your face like you thought he would. He grabbed your comm instead, missing it the first time in an uncoordinated shuffle.

Bucky was never uncoordinated.

“Steve,” he said into the device, urgency mixing with an incoherent slur you had never heard from him. “I’m down. I’m—pal, I’m done. You gotta get to y/n. She’s—”

The rest of his words were nothing but a buzz. The entire scene, the world around you, turned into white noise. Later, you would recognize this as shock. In the moment, it felt as if you ceased to exist. As if everything was ending.

And maybe everything was ending. Because when Bucky put the comm down—when he gripped at the back of your neck and his lips began staining red from blood you couldn’t see yet—it felt as if there was nothing left of you.

Your hands were shaking. Everything was shaking.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Bucky whispered. His voice sounded distant, weak. “Stevie’s gonna take care of you.”

His hands guided your forehead down to his. His labored breath brushed across your lips.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

Something snapped within you. Something sharp and cruel. A panicked cry left your throat and you pressed back from Bucky in one quick movement. Your hands whipped around him in desperation.

“No,” you gasped, tearing at his vest. “No, no, no, no. You’re fine. I can fix it. I can fix it, Bucky.”

But the more you shifted his clothes, the more you saw that you wouldn’t be able to fix it. There was so much blood and it wouldn’t stop flowing from his body. You pressed your palms to the wounds to staunch the flow, but it only ran in between your fingers.

Bucky wasn’t normal; he could heal from most things. That fact had sent him into the line of fire more times than you could count.

He had also been in this situation an infuriating amount of times, throwing himself in front of you to take the brunt of a hit more often than you had actually been injured.

But this time… this time he had grabbed your comm before sending you a sheepish laugh. This time he had apologized and asked his friend to take care of you.

This time he wouldn’t stop bleeding.

“It won’t stop. It won’t stop,” you cried, shaky and broken and disbelieving. “I’m trying, Bucky, I swear. Why won’t it stop?”

“Look at me.”

You kept up with your ministrations, pressing into his stomach even when he had no response to it. Couldn’t he feel it? Didn’t it hurt?”

“I can’t make it stop.”

“Please look at me, baby.”

With a ruined cry, you did as he asked. His eyes were lidded, but his mouth turned up on one side when you entered his view.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he breathed out, straining to touch you. “Love you so fucking much.”

Your sob was harsh and painful. “I love you more.”

A scream pierced the sky not too long after that. Steve was only able to find you because of it.

Even if you moved now, you wouldn’t be able to go home. You’d never be home again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #angstober 2023 #day 10

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seaslugfanclub · 2 months

Note

Hi! How you doin? I saw that Clayton and Alameda fell under the "Crush/Romantic feelings" category in one of your previous posts and was wondering if I could request some separate imagines on them? Since there's not much mention of them in your other works (especially Clayton), just to get an idea of what they're like with (Y/N). Please and thank you!

Sure!! I’d love to write more about Clayton, he’s so underrated 😭 Enjoy!

—————————————

Clayton

He’s one of the more… aloof villains of the park. Unlike the others who parade around the park giving backhanded compliments and insulting the elderly, Clayton tends to stay more on the sidelines.

I mean… the only thing he really liked to do was hunt, and he can’t exactly skewer any living creatures at the “happiest place on earth”

Though what he wouldn’t give to make a new coat out of that sardonically scarred lion…

With our beloved park attendant (Y/N), they found a couple ways to get along with him.

(Y/N) asked him about his hunting expeditions and his time in Victorian England

As much as (Y/N) hates the idea of killing for the sake of killing, Clayton can tell one hell of a story. He becomes super animated, hands waving around and voice super loud. He even got Gaston’s attention.

Other villains walked in on both (Y/N) and Gaston sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor as Clayton relayed the tale of his expedition in Peru like it was story time

He LOVES showing off his skills and strength, and what can I say, (Y/N) loves a show

As for the romantic aspect of Clayton and (Y/N)’s relationship, I believe Clayton fell first

Clayton was a man from Victorian England, where it was risqué for a women to show her ankles

Now imagine Clayton seeing (Y/N) in small summer wear attire, it is Florida/California after all…

During one of Clayton’s tantrums, he ended up screaming in (Y/N)’s face. And what did they do? They slapped him across the face, shocking him to silence

No one has ever dared lay a finger on him, and as (Y/N) immediately apologized to him he could only think one thing; “that was hot”

Clayton isn’t used to someone being genuinely interested in his past, and the way that (Y/N) looks at him when he retails his adventures keeps the Englishman up at night

It’s weird, but (Y/N) loves how big Clayton’s hands are, like they take one of his hands and covers their entire face with it, much to Clayton’s embarrassment

(Y/N) is now Clayton’s official backpack, they cling to this man as he walks around the park. Clayton loves showing off his strength and (Y/N) loves being carried

—————————————

Alameda Slim

Cowboy time baby

Alameda is one of the most unknown villains, like no one cares

But (Y/N) does, (Y/N) always tries to get Alameda included with the Villains and park activities

Whenever there’s a big crowd, Alameda always gravitates to (Y/N)

The size difference between them omg

(Y/N) brings Alameda old country music records, he now has a whole milk crate filled with albums

Gives (Y/N) mini concerts, yodeling along to the records

They have movie nights together in the common area watching old westerns! Alameda always interrupts the movie pointing out all the inaccuracies

One time Alameda tried to show (Y/N) how to square dance, and accidentally made them go airborne when he tried to spin them around

(Y/N)’s super curious about Alamedas yodeling, does it only affect cows? They decided to experiment on a bunch of different animals around the park, much to the park goers dismay

Turned out the only other animal effected by yodeling is… pigeons

Alameda ended up running for his life, a horde of hypnotized pigeons chasing after him

(Y/N) ended up having to convince Alameda it was safe to go outside again, after he barricaded himself in his room

Alameda likes to plop his cowboy hat on (Y/N)s head when it gets to hot outside

#disney villains #self insert #disney imagine #disney x reader #alameda slim #home on the range #Clayton #Disney clayton #tarzan

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he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle · 9 months

Text

Interesting Linguistic Notes from Jun & Jun episode 4

In her phone conversation with Choi Jun, Young does not exactly call herself his "fiancé."

She uses the word 구녀로서, which roughly translates to "as your woman." 구녀 when used alone means "she/old woman," but when paired with 로서 (which means to do something as a person who holds a specific status) it transforms into the idea more along the lines of being that person's singular girl. So you'll sometimes see it translated to "as your old woman" because it's more akin to the slang way we refer to our moms and wives than it is to the way we might say "I'm your woman" to refer to ourselves as your romantic partner. It's less about the state of romantic ownership and more about the old and familiar. I don't know why the translation team chose to translate it as fiancé, unless it's possible they have access to later scripts and know something we don't. But even then, we can probably anticipate that she's not an official fiancé, but rather someone their parents expect him to marry.

My current bet is just on her being overly familiar with Choi Jun, as we saw from her speech patterns in the car ride with both Juns earlier that morning. When she realizes that she already calls Choi Jun "Jun-i Oppa" (an intimate and affectionate way to refer to an older male/brother, as spoken by a female) and she has to call Lee Jun something different, any normal Korean who wanted to breech that level of familiarity would suggest "Lee Jun Oppa" as a way to differentiate the two. But she's been raised in the US too and leaps into suggesting "Jun-i Eonni" (an intimate and familiar way to refer to an older woman/sister, as spoken by a female). Lee Jun comedically bristles at that, saying he'd rather she kept calling him "Pigeon" instead. But she doesn't care and brushes right past societal norms and even still refers to him as Eonni later in her phone conversation with Choi Jun. Choosing this is intentionally queer-coded language as well (because her Korean is otherwise so good, and she doesn't seem to be joking). It's like calling a gay man "girl," or "sister," or "queen."

Speaking of the ways others address Lee Jun, it's important to note that in the final scene Simeon repeatedly calls him 우리 이준씨, which basically translates "my Lee Jun." He's not speaking intimately, but he is claiming ownership. This is why we see Hyun Jae's bewildered and sad expression and Choi Jun's stunned and jealous expressions.

Finally, I'll share a tidbit that caused some confusion when @bengiyo watched the episode and take my comment out of the notes on Ben's post and put it here. In his breakroom conversation with Lee Jun, I think it VERY LIKELY Hyun Jae was vaguing about M/M relationships. Because Korean culture is still VERY homophobic, he was trying to feel out how accepting Lee Jun is towards diversity and possibly even invite him into a queer space. He begins by saying, "you know, people have different values depending on the environments they've lived in," and ends with "diversity is valued these days." But instead he "dug his own grave" because Lee Jun's brain immediately went to the morning's events and the confusion he feels from it all (particularly being invited to do a sexual favor for a man who then later received a kiss on the cheek from an overly familiar woman) and he basically said NO, SOME THINGS ARE TOO DIVERSE.

I expect we'll see Lee Jun try to draw more boundaries with Choi Jun, not because he's a man (he flirted back after all) and not because he's his boss (although that may play a role), but mostly because his current impression is that Choi Jun isn't serious. He thinks he flirts like this all the time because he's too American.

@absolutebl I'm tagging you again because you're a linguistic geek too!

#jun & jun the series #jun & jun #jun and jun #asian gay dramas #i love linguistics #watch all my predictions be wrong #i always feel like such a clown

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senualothbrok · 5 months

Text

Prayer

Summary: The God of Ambition has returned to Elysium, and you did not follow him. You grieve for Gale, and you struggle to move on with your life.

Featuring Tara the Tressym and Morena Dekarios.

Word count: 3.8k

Non-18+. Gale x Tav. God!Gale. Heavy angst. Grief/mourning.

AO3 link

You let yourself into his tower. Morena had given you the keys, after your first few visits. She had welcomed you like the family you had always yearned for. The family that he had been to you, before he left.

You had moved to Waterdeep after the reunion party. You had not known what else to do. For six months, you had stayed in Baldur’s Gate, helping rebuild the city after the threat of the Netherbrain had passed. You were waiting for him to return. For a sign from him, from anyone, that he still lived.

But he did not. And after you had seen Him, and He had returned to Elysium without you, you had no idea what to do. Where to go. Your parents and brother had died of consumption when you were a child. Your companions had scattered. The man you loved, who you had given yourself to, was no more. Tara and Morena were all that was left of him. So when they asked you to stay in Waterdeep, you accepted. There was no other choice.

Dust swirls in the dimness of the hallway as you walk, your bags swaying around you as you call out.

“Tara?”

You meander into the library. After all this time, it still winds you – how much it smells of him. You blink away the memories that come to you. His hair brushing against your face. The musky warmth of his skin. The softness of his embrace. You set your package on the table, anchoring yourself.

Tara lifts her head lazily from the plush armchair which is the centre of her universe.

“Good morning, Tav,” she yawns, her wings fluttering.

“I’ve brought you a present.”

She patters over to you, heavy-lidded and languid. “You are a dear.”

With a flourish of claws she tears open the wrapped pigeon that you have offered her. Her razor teeth glint in a grin.

“You are so kind to me.”

You dip your head with a smile.

Tara takes her breakfast with you on the balcony. Mrs Dekarios is seeing her sister, she tells you, and will likely not be back until the evening. Your eyes roam over the bustling docks, the stillness of the sea. You cannot help but remember the first night, when he had brought your spirits here, while your bodies remained far away. The moment when you had become one. Another life. Gone forever.

You wonder if He is watching. You are almost certain He is not.

Tara licks at her paw with satisfied laps. You are grateful that you can sit in silence with her. That no words are needed to express the tumult of your memories. The cracks that open and re-open in your heart. You take a sip of your tea.

“You don't have to keep coming, dear. I'm perfectly capable of finding myself sustenance. And watching over Morena, if that’s your concern. Not that we don't appreciate your visits and marvellous company."

“I know.” You set your cup down. “But it's nice to see you all the same."

Tara regards you, her bright eyes wide. She misses nothing.

"Don't take this the wrong way, dear.” She stares, appraising you from head to toe. “But when was the last time you had a change of clothes, or went to the hairdresser's? You are looking slightly..."

You tilt your head.

"Dishevelled. Not at your best.”

It is something you already know, but you do not care. You have little energy for these things now. Your energy is consumed with getting through the motions of your days. That is effort enough.

"It's not a look I'm unfamiliar with.” Tara grimaces. “And I wouldn't wish for you to embark on the same trajectory…"

You shift, waving a hand. It is too much, to speak of him. Of the man he was. Even indirectly.

"I'm fine, Tara. I don't know what you're worrying about."

She frowns. She draws herself up, commanding your attention with her gaze.

"It has been two years, my dear. You are allowed to move on with your life. To move on from Waterdeep." Her voice softens. "From Gale."

You stand. Your cup and saucer rattle on the table. You hold them down, so nothing spills over. So nothing breaks.

"My apologies, Tara,” you hear yourself say. “But I must go. I need to pick some medicines up on the way back, to drop off at the hospice. And it's getting late."

Tara narrows her eyes. Her wings twitch.

"You are stubborn to a fault.” She sighs loudly, then slumps. “But I suppose, that's part of why he loved you.”

You look down, so she cannot see your face tremble.

“Take care of yourself, my dear."

You give her cheek a gentle scratch before you turn away.

"Until next time, my friend."

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

You walk along the sea front, as you do every evening. You rent a husk of a room within the hospice that you can never call home. You spend as little time there as you can.

The orange sky is bruised with purple streaks of encroaching night. He had conjured the smell of the sea so truly and vividly, a lifetime ago. He had wished, then, that he could have stood here with you. He had missed this view with an anguish that you felt in your bones. He had wanted nothing more than to take you home. But he is not here anymore, and you are alone.

Sometimes, you pray. You were never religious, even before you awoke on the nautiloid. You have seen so many travesties committed in the name of the gods, to people you love and care for. And from you, the gods have only ever taken away. They ignored your childish prayers for your parents’ healing, your cries as you watched them waste away. You could never praise or worship any god, after all that.

And now, you have seen this god that wears the likeness of the man you love, who speaks with his voice, but not with his heart.

And yet. Sometimes you still pray to Him.

You have never been ambitious. Your parents’ death taught you early on that everything could be ripped away from you without warning. You took nothing for granted – not the clothes on your back, the food in your belly, the people you held in your heart. It was enough for you to cling to them tightly, while you had them. No lofty ambition could tear you away from cherishing the things you held dear.

Now, you do not desire anything. You do not hope for anything. You are empty and numb, as though all hope and life in you died the moment you realised he was gone. Now, you try and fill your time by being useful. By serving. You work at the hospice, mending wounds, cooking and cleaning, giving comfort to the dying. You feel you are dying too, and this is all you can give.

You know he would have approved of these acts of kindness. Of these efforts to remedy what the gods do not, including the god who wears his face. Part of you does it for him, even though you will never again see his smiling eyes that radiate with the pride of love.

You do not pray to Him for ambitions. To Him, you know your prayers will be futile. Meaningless. You know He will not hear them. Within His domain, He will not deem them worthy.

But the tears come as they will. The sorrow is like the darkness he had shown you long ago, when he clasped your hand against his chest and you felt the orb eating away at everything within him that was good and pure and true. You do not think time will ever staunch its hunger. You break apart in secret, consumed by the shadows of all you have loved and lost. You are powerless to fight it.

“Come back to me.”

You pray it, more fervently than anything you have ever wished for. You weep and whisper the prayer again and again. It is a rending inside you that you think will never heal. You would trade your life for it, what little remains of it, if it could restore him as the man he was. The man whose eyes twinkled in passion at the most trivial morsel of knowledge, as though he could never get enough of this world. The righteous anger that reached out from his heart to defend those around him. The earnestness of his hands, the sincerity of his questions. The kindness in him which burned bright, even when despair threatened to snuff it out. The spark of humour that lingered, even in his irritation.

You thought you had shown him how much you loved him, but it was not enough. You had failed to convince him that you loved him not for his magic, not for a grand destiny he could seize among the stars. In loving him fully and without conditions, you had thought that you should stand with him in loving his dreams. His ambitions, even though they were so far from your own.

But you failed to show him that you loved him, just as he was. That he was all you ever wanted, and more than you ever dreamed.

The god that claims his name does not answer your prayers. And you know He will not. The man who would have listened has gone forever.

But you still pray, hoping that he has not.

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

People whispered about it in the hospice, when you first arrived in Waterdeep. You could not help but overhear them. ‘The hero who saved Baldur’s Gate,’ they gossiped. ‘The lover of the god of ambition. The foolish woman who turned down the offer to become a god.’

You tried to ignore their disbelief, to avoid their derision. But some of them cornered you. They demanded to know why. Why did you refuse His offer, when you could have had eternity? Why did you not become His Chosen? How could you turn down such glory? Such power?

You could not answer their questions. Nor could you make them understand. You could not show them how it felt to see Him after six months of silence, fearing he was dead, paralysed by not knowing. How it was to watch Him descend on you - an immortal stranger, draped in an imitation of the man who was the other half of your soul. A poor likeness, a travesty of memory. A garish monument to his hubris, to the darkest parts of him which he had battled against and lost. All his tenderness swallowed up by arrogance, the fire of his warmth extinguished by the indifference of silver.

When you refused his offer, you could barely see Him through the mist of your tears. You did not wish to become a god. You always knew what godhood would cost. Knowing the death of your greatest love confirmed it.

But there was something that remained in the steel of His voice and eyes. The faintest shadow of what you dared to hope was love. It made you ask, even when you knew what His answer would be.

“Is there no way we could still be together?”

Your voice sounded so frail, so desperate. The man you loved would never judge you for your vulnerability, nor shy away from it. He would have embraced it, drawing ever closer to you. But under His eyes of silver ice, you felt nervous. Exposed.

“I'm sorry, but no. I know what comes of love between the gods and mortals. I would never expose you to such risk.”

Even in this calculation, there was a semblance of tenderness. He would not make you his Chosen. In that decision, there was respect for the man that once was. The suffering that he endured. His wisdom, his kindness. And that tore you apart.

When He kissed you for the last time, a shock ripped through you that scarred your soul. It was dark as the mark of the orb that he carried and could never shed. His blazing face twisted for a moment in an approximation of pain.

“You may not wish to enter the heavens, but you do a fine job conjuring them here.”

They sounded like words that he would have said. Embers of his poetry. Ashes of his love.

He ascended in a haze of lightning, and was gone forever.

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

No one understands it. For how can you grieve for a man who died by becoming a god? It is folly, they think, to mourn an ascension to greatness, much less refuse to embrace it.

So you do not speak of him. You try not to think of him. But much as you try, you cannot forget. You cannot forget how it felt to see and love him so entirely, and to be seen and loved by him in return. To have everything in the boundlessness of his embrace, and be left with nothing on its withdrawal. You cannot let go of half of your soul, and the traces of his love that might remain.

Perhaps this is why you are drawn back to Tara and Morena again and again. An invisible cord joins you in your loss, stronger and more enduring than what is spoken or unspoken. You mourn together, yet you remain alone.

The next time you let yourself into his tower, you can hear them bickering. You make your way towards their voices.

“Frankly,” Tara drawls. “I don’t think those drawings are for our eyes, Mrs Dekarios.”

Morena chortles. “Indeed, Tara. I confess, I didn’t expect-”

As you enter the library, she spins to face you. Grey curls spill from the messy bun at the nape of her neck. You glance around in confusion at the boxes and crates that now clutter the room.

“Why, hello, Tav,” she exclaims, hobbling over to you through the chaos. “You’re just the person we need. Do you recognise this?”

She thrusts a worn leaf of parchment under your nose. It is peppered with elaborate diagrams, lined with arrows, arrayed with his neat cursive.

“No,” you say immediately, busying yourself with the flowers you have brought.

You do actually recognise it. There was an evening when he had decided to show you, in great detail, a technique he had memorised from ‘The Art of the Night’. One which you had both enjoyed at length in his tent, more than a few times.

Even that memory hurts beyond bearing.

Tara flutters onto the chair next to you, nodding at you in greeting.

“I think we should move on, Mrs Dekarios. To preserve our dignity, at the very least.”

Morena smiles wryly. “You’re quite right, Tara. I won’t push at a closed door, Tav, don’t worry.” She peers at the parchment again before burying it under a pile of books. “Still, it’s fascinating the things that you can learn, even when you’re as old and senile as I am.”

She squeezes you lightly on the arm, and you reciprocate.

Tara ushers you towards her armchair. You lower yourself into it, while Tara nestles herself into your lap. It took you months to earn this position of honour. You scratch the side of Tara’s ear as she starts kneading with her paws.

“You missed a great kerfuffle, my dear,” Morena remarks.

“Is that the source of this…?” You gesture around you.

“It is indeed. We were honoured with a visit from His Chosen.” She spits the word out like it is a curse. “That insufferable upstart from Thay. That loathsome boy has come to me three times, and it’s three times too many.”

Tara hisses.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, Tara,” Morena mutters.

You do not point out the twist of the knife - that He never comes himself. Not to Morena or Tara. Not to you. The idea of Him having a Chosen, after your final conversation, is devastating enough.

You are almost afraid to ask. “What did he want?”

Morena’s scowl tightens the wrinkles on her thin face. “Apparently, there was a range of ‘personal effects’ that Gale neglected to pass onto us when he ascended. Now, two years later, His Chosen says his god is remedying this oversight, with apologies.”

“The man did not look apologetic,” Tara seethes.

“No, he did not.” Morena flicks a piece of lint off her sleeve with unbridled fury. “He looked offended to have been tasked with something so beneath him. When I asked him why it took him so long, he had the gall to tell me that the gods have more important matters to concern themselves with, and that time passes differently in Elysium. ”

You flinch. He had said the same to you, when you asked why He had been silent for six months. The man you loved was not capable of such casual callousness.

You need not to remember. You reach for the nearest box and pull out a book of recipes from Amn. You imagine him standing in the kitchen, tracing his slender fingers across its pages, his eyes intense and narrowed in focus, brown as fresh earth.

“My son was hopeless about many things. He was forever cluttering this place with a mess of trinkets and potions. Well, he did before his…affliction.”

“That certainly helped with the clutter,” Tara observes.

“That it did.” Morena sniffs. “But he was always meticulous about his books, his shelves. His correspondence. His affairs. He would never have left these things in this…state.”

She throws her hands around her in disgust.

“This Chosen. This god.” Her jaw clenches. “He makes a mockery of everything my dear boy stood for.”

She looks out the window, her chest heaving. Tara and I wait. We all have such moments, when his absence is suffocating, and it takes time to find our breaths.

“Well. I shan't bore you with the same ramblings that you’ve heard so many times before.” She laughs bitterly. “A god’s shit is a mother’s treasure, I suppose.”

You lay a hand on hers. She pats it briskly. She clears her throat.

“Speaking of treasure.”

She scuttles away. From a nearby shelf she retrieves a small envelope, creased and stained with brown marks. She holds it out to you.

“This is marked for you. There were a few others, crossed out and scrambled up. I take it that this was the letter he would have given you, but decided not to.”

Your breath catches. You try to hide the shaking of your hand as you take the letter from her. You stare at his cursive, more jagged than usual, bearing your name. Again and again, you run your eyes over it, over the places which his lithe fingers would have touched. The letter is unopened. None of you know what it contains.

“Go on,” Tara urges. “Open it.”

“Or do you want some privacy, dear?” Morena’s hazel eyes quiver.

You shake your head. You are not sure if you are ready. But then again, you are not sure you will ever be. And you are desperate, frantic, to cling to whatever trace of him that remains.

You open it and start to read.

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

The tears come and come, and they do not stop. The pain surges out of you like an endless flood, and the agony is so sharp that you think you will die. You curl into yourself, keening, wailing. And still, the grief gnaws at you like a bottomless hole which you do not think you will ever escape.

But Tara shelters you with her wings. Morena holds you in her arms, sobbing silently as you weep. And when it is finally, mercifully over, you clasp his letter to your chest. You close your eyes, soaking up the smell of him that lingers all around you, in every page and book, in every rug and armchair that bore witness to the miracle of him. You reverberate with the warm tenor of his voice, speaking his last words to you from the blue-green skies of another life, a light which washes over all the shadows within you.

You open your eyes, and you begin anew.

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

You are standing on the docks, clasping a bag in each hand. Morena and Tara had insisted on helping you pack for the journey back to Baldur’s Gate, but there had been little for you to gather. You had sold most of your possessions, except for your daggers, your surgical implements, a couple of books. A change of clothing. The carved duck from Halsin. A teddy bear from Karlach.

You have nothing left of him except his letter. You had not thought to gather mementos when you were with him. You had given yourselves to each other so completely, you had thought you would have time enough to build a life together.

Now you must rebuild your life alone.

“Gale.”

You let yourself speak his name now. It is not a prayer, but you hope he hears you, though he is no more.

In the distance, the faintest lightning bolt dances across the yellowing sky. It is gone in the blink of an eye. You are not sure if you have imagined it.

Then the air in front of you flashes and flickers. You step back, squinting as blurred streaks of violet and brown and grey form a misty image before you. A shadow in his shape. His soft face in a hazy whirl, his chest bare and unmarked beneath a familiar and well-worn robe. You are gasping, choking. You reach towards him, grasping for his hands. But they slip through your fingers like star dust.

“I love you.” You are smiling and crying all at once. “I’ll always love you.”

It is an illusion. A vision. A figment of your imagination. It does not matter, either way.

“Goodbye, my love,” you whisper.

His smile blazes, bright as the northern lights. He dissolves into you as he fades away. Through the space he leaves behind, you gaze at his tower for the last time.

Your heart is broken and bleeding, but it still beats. You are alive.

You turn and board the ship to Baldur’s Gate.

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

My love,

Firstly – please forgive me the scrawled nature of this note. My handwriting is no match for the Netherbrain’s tremors. Or perhaps my hands shake of their own accord. At this juncture, it is difficult to tell.

Do not misunderstand me – I am not afraid to die. But I am afraid of what I might leave behind me. That my sacrifice might hurt you so that your life becomes an echo of my own, your chest corrupted by heartache as mine once was by the orb.

I hope and pray this is not the case – that in the time since I left you, you have lived a life full of beauty, happiness, and wonder. That is what I will picture when the time comes. Only you. You were all I ever needed.

You are calling to me – I have truly run out of time. But you will not – that I promise. When this is over, your life begins anew. Treasure it, as I treasured you. That is all I ask.

Yours forever,

Gale

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

The sequel/counterpart to this fic is Absolution.

Liked this fic? You can find more of my work here.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #gale fanfic #gale fic #gale x tav #gale romance #god gale

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toxintouch · 27 days

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Love the thought of Mhin’s monster being terrifying; a true threat to your (the MC’s) safety, an insurmountable burden that has destroyed Mhin’s life and that’s why they are so desperate for a cure.

But also…

Thinking about Androcles removing the thorn from the lion’s paw…

The thought that maybe if the monster doesn’t successfully kill you the first time, it will recognize you the second.

That transformation looks like it hurts. Before, after, during.

The idea that it will be a slow process, a dangerous one, but if you can survive, if you can calm it down–

Preening broken feathers. A slow and methodical process, but your heart beats like you’re running for your life. You keep retreating, feather by feather, because you’re not sure how stable this moment of calm is, how long you have before it will try to kill you again.

You gain Mhin’s trust the same way. Slow and methodical. Showing your hands at all times. No sudden movements.

Mhin knows you ran into their Monster–knows that you know. They hate the thought of putting this much faith in another person but they hate the thought that the monster might get out and harm people even more. You could be an ally in this too, they suppose…

They hand over a key to their safe house, show you how to use the security measures they have in place for when they transform. They explain to you how to safely lock them inside–it can be done from either side effectively but Mhin never gives any thought to which side of the door you’d choose to be on…

You start asking Kuras for medical supplies, unable to give any information regarding why you need them. You see someone selling hunting birds and carrier pigeons in the market so you ply them for information, paying them back by shelling out a ridiculous amount of money on whatever care products look like they might be moderately useful.

More preening broken feathers. It seems to–they–seem to understand that you mean to help, now. The process becomes easier. You start carefully removing bits of broken glass you find embedded into them–you’re not sure how it got there, if the glass is something mystical or if they went on a little rampage before you were able to lead them into the safe house. Maybe they’re just like a regular bird and they ran into something by accident. Maybe it’s been there for years because no one’s been around (or able to) take it out.

Does it hurt Mhin, too?

You’re even more determined with that thought, though you have to be so-very-careful because if you startle or hurt them, they become agitated. You’re not sure if they would hurt you on purpose anymore, but they sure as hell could kill you by accident.

It burns your heart to leave some pieces in before Mhin changes back, but you know you have to. You can’t help if you don’t stay safe. And Mhin always makes you promise to look after yourself when they can't.

Mhin transforms back and realizes that it didn’t take so much from them this time, that the usual pain is a little lesser, that they still ache but it isn’t debilitating. They write it off at first but the thought sits at the back of their mind. Filling them with unrest. A thorn in their side that they cannot quite reach...

They go to their safe house to check how the locks are holding up and they notice some things. A large basin for water. Your supplies. A music box, of all things.

Needless to say, they’re horrified. They demand to know what you’re doing. Are you trying to get yourself killed?

“I knew you had no sense but–”

You assure them that you’re taking every precaution.

Besides, aren’t you doing the right thing? It’s totally logical that they (–it , Mhin insists) can get thirsty, of course Mhin is feeling better when they aren’t being locked in an empty room deprived of water half the time.

The monster looks so sad, now that they aren’t trying to hurt you. As they became more used to you, you began to see the parts where they and Mhin overlap. Shared habits. The way they settle down to sleep at night is the same…

Mhin hates the monster inside of them, but you don’t.

#i wrote this so fast i am omw out the door forgive me the are for sure mistakes this is the energy today that we are bringing #Something something loving the parts of someone that they think make them Bad And Terrible #but not in an ‘i can fix you way’ but in an i’m here to support you even when you’re at your lowest’ kinda way #Soft Mhin Hours ft. The Bird Monster #mhin touchstarved #Touchstarved Fanfic #Touchstarved game #grammar edits made next day #the music box is so Atheris-coded btw u know they gotta play their bird some tunes even while their hands are occupied #toxintouch writing #touchstarved Wishlist: Mhin

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starsreminisce · 2 months

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One of these things is not like the other! One of these things is not the same! Can you guess which one it is?

Cassian on Nesta:

“Here I was,” Nesta said, a pillar of ice and steel beside the hearth, “thinking I heard you flapping around for ten minutes. It must have been a pigeon stuck in one of the chimneys.” Cassian just stared at her. She stared at him. His temper rose with dizzying speed at the words, the absurd perfection of her. A blade given form—that’s what she was. He smiled, slow and vicious, precisely in the way he’d learned made her see red. A smile that he knew instantly unsheathed those lovely claws of hers. “Hello, Nesta. Nice to see you.”

Rhys on Feyre:

His eyes danced with feline amusement. “Cruel, beautiful thing.” I snorted. The idea that he found me beautiful at all— “You are,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I thought that from the first moment I saw you on Calanmai.” And it was stupid, stupid for beauty to mean anything at all, but … My eyes burned. “Which is good,” he added, “because you thought I was the most beautiful male you’d ever seen. So it makes us even.”

Lucien on Elain:

But sunlight on gold caught his eye—and Elain slowly turned from her vigil at the window. He had not seen her entire face since that day in Hybern. Then, it had been drawn and terrified, then utterly blank and numb, her hair plastered to her head, her lips blue with cold and shock. Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

Azriel on Gwyn:

He wouldn't go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... "Fine. Thank you." Clotho's pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her. Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.

Azriel on Elain:

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. Wrong -- it was so wrong. He didn't care. He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue -- Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Stumped? Need a hint? Fine, I'll give you the answer. The only time Azriel thought about how beautiful Elain was when he considered having sex with her. And the extremely thoughtful present he had for Elain? He could clearly envision how Gwyn's specific eye color would react when she received it.

It's a romantasy. The falling in love is the meat and potatoes of the plot.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #antie/riel #antielriel #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #feysand #nessian

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contentloadingandstuff · 10 months

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Cheering them up - Male!Reader x Platonic!Klee & Platonic!Qiqi

CW: Male!Redeader, platonic characters. A little Jean x Male!Reader.

A lifeless stare traces over the approach to Bubu Pharmacy, pink eyes peeled for one thing, and one thing only. Despite her best efforts, Qiqi can't find them.

There are no finches anywhere in sight. Not on the road, not on the cliffside, not in the flowerbeds. There are only pigeons. But Qiqi doesn't care about pigeons. They are ugly and stink of grime and decay. She doesn't like that smell.

Qiqi sighs. If her memory was any better, she would be mad. After all, not a single of the little birds showed itself for the past two hours. She had to help Baizhu, so she wrote that down. In what way - the notebook did not specify. She also wrote that she will go and help after she sees a finch. Yet none of them did as much as fly by her.

Something must be wrong. Qiqi's dried up brain attempts to process the situation. She has to help Baizhu, but she also has to see finches. Baizhu is in Bubu Pharmacy. Where are finches? Baizhu showed her finches one day, so they must be where he is - on Bubu Pharmacy grounds. But somehow they aren't here. Then maybe they are in the building? No. Finches need space to fly, even if they are small. That doesn’t make sense.

Qiqi doesn’t notice you sitting right next to her, too deep in her considerations. You pat her head gently, attracting her attention.

“Hello Y/N.” She replies, dry and emotionless as ever. You smile kindly.

“Hi. Looking for finches?” You take a quick glance around the area, but find nothing bird-like.

“Yes. But Qiqi can’t find any.” She sighs, looking down at the pavement. “This makes Qiqi… sad. Finches are nice. Qiqi wants to see finches.”

You think for a moment. “Maybe they are scared of something?”

Qiqi is visibly processing the idea while you look around again, and then up at the sky. On the backdrop of blue, a black silhouette of a bird circles in the sky. You point up at it, and the zombie follows your mark.

“We have our reason. That’s a hawk. Hawks eat finches.”

Qiqi stares up at you. “Ah. Qiqi forgot.”

You pet her head again. “How about we go outside the city? Maybe they will be there?”

She nods. “Yes. Qiqi wants to see finches.”

“Alright then!” You get up, and gently grab her small hand. “Let’s go find you some finches.”

Qiqi stands up too, but she doesn’t move. Instead, you feel her tug at your sleeve. You look down, and find her big pink eyes fixed on you.

“Y/N, carry Qiqi. Qiqi is… tired. Cold.”

You pull her up to your chest, Qiqi wraps her arms around your neck, and you begin your journey.

“Come on Jean. You know you want to~”

The Acting Grandmaster narrows her eyes, arms crossed on her chest. Her stare is unrelenting.

“I shouldn’t let Klee out after what she did. That bomb could have hurt someone.”

You draw the sweetest smile you can manage. “Not even if I keep tabs on her?”

“Not even if you keep tabs on her. She will be out tomorrow.”

Theatrically dropping your head, you sigh. Jean looks on, feeling a little guilty as you make your way to the door. You take the doorknob in your hand, but refrain from pressing it.

“Jean Gunnhildr, the conqueror of children’s smiles, the destroyer of all that is fun.” You look back and look at her with the best puppy eyes you can muster. “Pretty please?”

Jean avoids your eyes, trying to hold back a smile. You’re so silly… She can’t restrain it anymore. She sighs and opens the drawer and pulls out black, metal key. You jog over to her and grab the item, feeling accomplished.

“Just don’t let Klee blow things up. Please. I’m tired of handling the reports.”

She looks at you with tired eyes, practically begging you to listen. Without hesitation, you press a short kiss on her lips. You turn around and leave the flustered, red faced Jean. On your way out, you wave to her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep the kid on a short leash. And give you plenty of cuddles once you’re home to help you relax.”

You leave, closing the heavy door behind you as silently as you can. Klee’s room, better known as solitary confinement, is guarded by one knight, bored to hell. You wink at him as you slide the key into the keyhole, and turn it.

“Go get a break. You look like you need it.”

You open the door. Klee’s elf ears immediately twitch, and she turns to face you. Much to your surprise, Klee’s wearing her Dodoco pyjama overalls, sewn for her by Noelle. At first she looks grim, but her eyes light up upon seeing you. “Y/N!”

She runs up to you as you close the door. She hugs you, barely reaching your waist. You scratch her head. “What’s up? Is my little grenadier sleepy already?”

Klee shakes her head. “No, but I can’t leave solitary confinement until tomorrow.”

“You look sadder than usual. Did anyone get hurt, Klee? Can you tell me what happened?”

Klee looks down, toying with her fingers. “W-well, I was out blasting fish with Dodoco, but then… um… one of my bombs landed too far and scared Mr. Fisherman. He told Jean and she told me to go to solitary confinement. She said mommy wouldn’t be proud.”

You smirk. Alice wouldn’t mind, judging by how she isn’t bothered by her child handling live explosives. But then again, her parenting methods aren’t that great, seeing as she barely interacts with her own child.

You shake those thoughts and crouch down to be eye level with Klee. “I’m not sure about that. I talked to Jean, and she let me take you outside. You’re up for it?”

Klee’s expression brightened nearly instantly. She clapped her little hands and jumped up and down a few times, ending her joyous outburst with a bear (or rather cub?) hug. You can’t help but giggle with her.

“Yay! Thank you, Y/N!”

“Remember to dress accordingly! It’s quite chilly outside. I wouldn’t want to see you sick, Klee, would I? I bet Dodoco would be really worried too.” You raise up and open the door. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

After putting on one of her warmer outfits and grabbing her backpack (Dodoco included), Klee practically sprints out the door. She finds you smiling brightly, but you shake your head.

“Klee? Where’s your hat? Remember about the scarf as well.”

“Oops… I'll go get it now!"

Thanks for reading!

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fennecfics-the-simp-king · 2 months

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Cuphead Show! King Dice & Devil x Reader preferences (romantic):

Heyyyy I’m gonna be posting more x Reader stuff here. Also some words are censored because Tumblr is a meanie and won’t let me swear in my fanfiction-

The gender for (Y/n) is vague, but it does have menstrual cycle preferences mixed in, along with some talk about these two respecting pronouns and that jazz so, yeah.

Hope it’s a fun read, I might post more of these guys.

Being in a (romantic) relationship with The Devil would include:

• It’s actually hard for him to fall in love or even trust others, so it’ll take a while for him to say “I love you”.

• Though the first time he’ll ever say “I love you” (most likely after a few months of you two dating) it is immediately followed by a scrunch of the face and him going. “That was… strange..”

• He forces you to live in Hell with him, and only lets you visit Earth on special occasions. Family stuff, friends, but other than that YOU’RE STAYING!!

• He’s so dramatic whenever he has to cut his nails. He’ll run away from you, or hide. Once, while trying to find him to cut his nails, you found him on the ceiling.

• Despite hating his nails being cut, he will literally beg you to paint his nails. He won't just do one color though, he likes to change it up a bit. Sometimes he'll ask for grey, gold, red, but he loves the black nail polish!

• Whenever he has to do stuff that he doesn’t want to do, he tries to argue that he’s the devil and because of that, you can’t tell him what to do.

• One of his favorite activities is burning bibles, so...you have to deal with being woken up to the smell of smoke at 3AM.

• He's still not fond with current technology, but he does seem to enjoy Netflix.

• Devil giving you weird pet names: Darlin', succub!tch, shmoopie, baby-cakes, cow-pie, and tortoise-pigeon (Being the main nickname).

• If you ever need to practice your makeup on someone, Devil won't mind. He likes how it makes him look.

• Surprisingly enough, this guy brushes his teeth regularly. He got them pearly whites. That, and he doesn't want to loose his sharp teeth, they're his favorite, apparently they make him look intimidating.

• Devil is a man of art, very therapeutic for him. He loves to paint, sometimes he’ll want you to pose for him. And he's actually quite quick when it comes to painting.

• Both you and Henchmen helping him whenever he basically gets electrocuted by the sweater. The two of you are practically the only people he trusts, with Dice being the third.

• He doesn't care what gender you are, or if you're trans. If you're still you, and if you're not lying about anything, he won't care. Along with that he also doesn’t KNOW anything about that stuff, so you probably gotta help if you want him to understand.

• Even though he's the devil, he would never want you to feel bad about yourself. He loves you unconditionally, he would kill anyone who makes you feel that way, steal their soul, eat it, then spit it back out ‘cause it’s clearly rotten!

• If you go through the menstrual cycle and are having bad cramps, he gets very…awkward. He’s not very affectionate with others so he has no idea how to comfort people. He’ll most likely just have some of his little demons looking after you for a few days.

• He tries to use correct pronouns, he mostly slips up though, and he won't realize. You just have to be there to correct him for him to actually notice.

Random example:

(He's showing you to someone)

"Yeah, she's really adorable, isn't she?"

"It's 'they'.”

"...AHHH!" *frustrated demon noises*

• He’s not frustrated at you or the fact you use different pronouns, he’s frustrated at himself for not doing it right. So don’t worry.

Being in a relationship with King Dice would include:

• Probably says “I love you” way too fast, and by that I mean on the first date.

• If you wear makeup he’ll experiment with it whenever you’re asleep. (The masculine urge to wear your partner’s makeup)

• One of his favorite parts of your body happens to be your hands. He loves how perfectly they fit into his. Sometimes he’ll preform a type of show using his hand and your hand as the actors.

• If you go sit in the audience him during Roll The Dice. He'll immediately see you in the crowd and blush for the rest of the show.

• When he knows you're in the audience, he'll say this while announcing to everyone: "Ladies and gentlemen! ..and (Y/n).." (he'll whisper your name under his breath, but loud enough for the microphone to pick it up.)

• King Dice ALSO giving you some (semi)weird pet names: Darling, fuzzy dice, you adorable gambler, my wild card, little poker, and pumpkin.

• The personification of drama.

• Has a lot of gossip and info on the other famous people of Inkwell. Will tell you this gossip. You will listen. You have no choice-

• This man may seem like he knows how to do shit on his own, but he actually needs help with most things. Such as you having to help with this man's bow-tie every morning, because he just cannot figure it out for the life of him.

• Perfectionist, such a damn perfectionist. He won't go on with his day without him looking perfectly chipper, and he also spends hours in the shower. Really making sure to run up those water bills.

• A little sensitive about his age. If you ask him about it, he’ll say "that's not important" which is an oddly a creepy answer-

• If you wake up early, you'll find Dice in the bathroom just looking at himself in the mirror with a blank stare. If you actually enter the bathroom, he'll be so terrified that he jumps INTO the shower and closes the curtain to hide himself.

• He's mostly insecure about his pips, or dots. He knows he's getting old, because his color is fading. So...he buys lipstick to cover the faded coloring. But you smudged it once while he was kissing you, and he reacted like he was dying.

• He fiddles with his mustache when he's nervous and yet hates if tell him it makes him look like a villain.

• Much like his boss, if you go through the menstrual cycle he gets ungracefully awkward. But he tries to be very casual about it, despite his awkwardness being obvious as hell.

• “Oh, it’s that week?” Silent for a second. “Do you need me to get you anything or ..no?”

• Will buy you everything you need. And since stuff like tampons were fairly new in the 1930s and therefore most likely a tad expensive, thankfully he does have the money for it.

• If reminded, will carry some on him for you. If reminded that is, I’m putting emphasis on “IF REMINDED” for a f—king reason! Guy’s on autopilot all day, he’s famous but also has pretty much everything done for him, and so he doesn’t have to think about much.

• If not reminded he will completely forget and therefore freak the hell out if asked if for some.

• Like The Devil, he has no idea what being Non-binary means, or Bisexual, or anything related to that. I’m not saying he’s straight….He’s not, he just doesn’t know there are words for stuff like that other than ‘homosexual’ and a few other words I can’t mention-

• So, he'll mess up a few times when trying to use the correct pronouns, except he'll correct himself very VERY quickly.

• "He- THEY.. are my partner. I said they, of course I did. I would never say anything other than they.” Silence for a few seconds before then saying in a much more serious tone: “I said they.”

• He cares. He’s just stupid/j

#cuphead show x reader #the cuphead show #the devil x reader #king dice x reader #cuphead devil #fennecfics #gn!reader #gn!y/n #the devil cuphead #x reader #fanfiction

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ethiy · 9 months

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Lyney didn’t know why seeing you leave hurt that much.

He couldn’t accept it. This should not be the reason. You barely have met each other, he shouldn’t be so naive. Yet, you seemed just like a little spark of hope, scaping by the door of Opera Epiclese. And with a heavy thud, they were alone again. The clock ticked. It was all over.

It hurt more than he anticipated. And it was specifically he knew it would hurt that he decided to hide the truth in the first place. He first met you even before the first encounter, how could he not? With your face appearing and reappearing again and again in The Steambird. One week, two weeks, three weeks. And you were still there. In Mondstadt, Liyue, Sumeru. All your heroic deeds for days on. It was hard to not get his attention grabbed. When he realized, he was already buying any news with your face in it.

So, when you first introduced yourself, the Traveler, he couldn’t hold himself. The marvelousness, the novelty. Everything he had seen in little letters in a print were there, at first hand. Magic tricks flashed through his mind, cards to be chosen to create amazement. He needed to get something right.

However, it was a pre-announced disaster. After all, he wasn’t dumb. You would run away as a scared little pigeon the moment a word related to Fatui would come into his mouth. You were so brave to just ignore. You also were so much like him that he couldn’t waste this opportunity. It was a small blink of amity in a world full of lies and falsehoods. He needed a self-defense alternative. Telling the truth would only bring trouble, for both you and him.

That was what he thought. So careful. So attentive. He planned everything with such cautiousness that the idea of something getting wrong was kidnapped from his mind. But then, betrayal came. And now he couldn’t even blame no one. Because this time, he was the one who had betrayed.

“I told you”, the voice of Lynette came by his side.

He sighed, adjusting his hat.

“I suppose", he started, "magic tricks don’t always work.”

#fontaine siblings #fontaine #lyney #lynette #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #Everything that flashed through my mind after genshin act I #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #lyney x reader #genshin #lyney fanfic #genshin impact fanfic

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little-pondhead · 2 months

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The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

Damian was still being watched. The summer storm had well and passed, but the eyes he felt on the back of his neck were persistent, following him no matter where he went. He drove himself mad, tearing his room and the rest of Wayne Manor apart for bugs, asked Oracle to scan the city while he patrolled, and even pulled in a favor with some magic users to ensure he wasn't being haunted. Nothing! It was concerning his family, but Damian didn't care. He kept himself surrounded by others at all times whenever he left the house. Something was out there, ready for him to be truly alone. He didn't want to give them the opportunity.

The day came when he was assigned to patrol with Orphan since Batman was with the League but was separated due to the Riddler's schemes. They had solved the riddle already, thankfully, but Damian was intercepted while on his way to their meet-up point.

Pru, a former League assassin, caught his attention from one of Gotham's rooftops, and he swung down to meet her.

“Assassin,” was his only greeting. Damian was not a fool. No matter what had happened between Pru and Drake, she was still dangerous. He drew his sword easily and pointed it at her neck, reminding her that he was still a threat as well.

Pru didn’t look too happy to see him either. “Don’t give me that shit, Robin,” she snarled. “I’m just here to pass on a message.”

“I believe you are loyal to my brother, not me,” Robin hissed. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because it’s important!” Pru looked frustrated. “Eth Alth'eban is on lockdown, and I barely managed to get out. I can’t get in touch with Red Robin; every time I try, something happens and messages are re-routed or destroyed. Lightning strikes on the communication towers in Antarctica, the encrypted server that runs through Bolivia crashed from a fucking hurricane, even the goddamn carrier pigeon got drawn off course from high winds in Brazil! Do you have any idea how erratic the past two weeks have been? It’s like something is out to get me!”

“So why come to me? You’re in Gotham now.” He pointed out.

Pru threw her hands up, exasperated. “Because Nightwing told me Red Robin is out of the country to help with flooding in Qatar! Apparently, there’s a fucking tropical storm hitting it for the first time ever! You’re the one who really needs to hear this, anyway, so I gave up and found you. It seems Gotham won’t let me leave until I say my piece.”

Damian considered the situation. Pru really did look like she’d been through hell and back. She looked furious at something, and her clothes were still damp from rain. Except it hadn’t rained in Gotham for a while. Not since…the summer storm. The back of his neck tingled again, and he glanced around. Clouds were closing in. Fuck.

He sheathed his sword. Pieces from this puzzle were starting to fall into place, but he needed more information. “Say what you must,” he nodded to Pru while tapping his comms to alert Oracle to the conversation. He also activated his emergency tracker, hoping Orphan or Nightwing would find him in time. Their conversation would end quickly once the woman relayed her message, and Damian wasn't about to force Pru to stay because he was nervous about being alone.

“Finally,” Pru sighed and sat heavily on the rooftop, not minding the glass that dug into her hands and thighs. “Your grandfather has a new Heir.”

Damian blinked, pausing. He wasn’t quite expecting that.

“I only knew about this early because they killed my inside man in the medical department. I got a hold of his notes, and it looks like they were in the middle of treating an unknown entity, and the files all referred to it as the ‘Demon's Heir.’ I'm not Red, so I can't be sure, but the records don't start in a way that would suggest they made a test tube baby or another clone."

"And it is not my cousin they are treating? Perhaps grandfather has changed his mind and declared Mara his ideal Heir."

Pru stared at Gotham's roiling clouds, looking frustrated. She didn't seem to notice anything strange about them. "No. Mara al Ghul was in Kuwait until recently. She and the others from the Demon's Fist were doing something on orders from Mother Soul. It's above my pay grade, so I can't tell you much more than that other than they left suddenly without finishing their business. I'll take a guess that Mother Soul will be pissed about that. I do know that the medical records were updated two days ago to reflect a stab wound to the entity's chest. Their name was also updated: Phantom."

Damian considered Pru's words. He turned the clues over in his mind like stones, carefully examining anything that might hint at deceit. She was telling the truth, unfortunately. "So someone named Phantom has claimed the role of Demon's Heir, and my cousin most likely heard this news first and abandoned her post to attack the usurper," he summarized. "And my grandfather has closed off his city for one reason or another, presumably to either train or protect Phantom. Am I correct?"

Pru nodded. "That's pretty much it, birdie. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

He ignored the jab. "I will consider my options," he said stiffly. "Now that you've served your purpose, leave Gotham immediately." Orphan, where are you?

The former assassin laughed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off the glass and dirt that stuck to her clothes. "I'll consider it. I've been running around for weeks; Red Robin won't mind if I crash at his, will he?"

"He will."

"Tough shit. See you around!" Pru jumped off the rooftop and into the alley below, not giving a shit about potential muggers as she waltzed into the night.

He was alone.

Damian watched her go before tapping his comms again. “Did you hear everything?” He asked Oracle, but no reply came except static. He expected this but cursed anyway. Thunder started to rumble overhead; he felt it deep in his bones. Whispers of electricity started crawling along the rooftop, following wires and coming dangerously close to touching him. He was forced to back into a corner on the rooftop and hoped his rubber-insulated boots were enough to prevent a shock. The feeling from earlier was stronger than ever. Someone was watching him. They knew he was finally alone. Obviously, Orphan nor Nightwing would get there in time, so Damian would have to deal with this himself.

He turned in a circle, straining his eyes to see through the cloud cover. He still couldn’t pinpoint their location, but he knew they were up there. “Reveal yourself!” He barked, hand on his weapon.

A moment passed. The air pressure changed, making his ears pop uncomfortably. His eyes were trained on the sky as rain started to fall. The clouds above the city gathered wildly, swirling together and reaching down toward him. The bolts of electricity that crawled over the rooftop raced together and rose up to meet it, becoming large bolts of lightning that could do real harm to the city if even one got loose. He stepped back into the corner even further, watching the mass of storm clouds finally get low enough to spread out across the building like a thick fog, revealing a figure in the vague shape of a man.

Great. Of course, it was something magical. He'd be having words with the magic users from earlier.

The man wasn’t touching the ground. In fact, Damian could hardly make out his legs as his broad form blurred from the wind, snatching bits of his green body away. Smaller rain clouds encircled his waist like a belt, and his hair looked more like jagged horns sitting against his brow. While he wore a well-loved weather vest and thick gloves, the rain around them would have soaked the man through by now. But he was perfectly dry. Damian was a little envious.

The man was smiling at him, but not the kind of smile that welcomed him into the conversation. No, this man of clouds and lightning was holding himself like someone was forcing him to be there. His red eyes looked like a swirling red cyclone, and his overall air was disinterested and tired.

Damian flinched as the man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except drawn-out screeches and clicks. It sounded like thunder was crashing right next to his ear or a tree getting struck by lightning. He didn't like it. The man frowned, realizing Damian couldn't understand him, and cleared his throat to try again.

“Hello, little Robin,” the man eventually tried, this time in Arabic. His voice was…strange. It sounded like he was gasping with every word, and the thundering sound was still there, muted and layered under the greeting. "I'm sorry, I forgot the people of this world are not natural speakers of the Realm's language."

“I am not little,” Damian snarled, likewise in Arabic.

“Of course not,” the man waved his hand. “A ghost’s size does not determine their power. I greet you nonetheless, little Robin.”

Damian had a feeling that speaking with this man was going to be infuriating. “Who are you?” He demanded. “And why are you in Gotham City?”

“You may call me the Navigator,” the man bowed a little, stiff in his back like he wasn’t used to the action. The Navigator, it seemed, was used to being in power. But by bowing to Damian, he showed his reluctant submission right off the bat, hoping to appease him and have a civil conversation. “And I believe you have a hunch as to why I’m here. You noticed me pretty quickly, after all.”

“So you are the one who’s been stalking me.”

“In plainer terms, yes.”

“I presume you’re the one who’s been messing with Pru as well?”

“You would presume correctly,” The Navigator's face scrunched and swirled like he was making a face of disgust. “I would rather have sent my sylphs to do it, but the Scepter insisted I do this part myself.”

More new information. If Damian remembered, sylphs were elemental wind spirits. So the Navigator was either a spirit himself or someone who could control them. But he said ‘ghost’ earlier. How did that fit in? He didn't look like the undead Damian knew of.

And ‘the Scepter’ was said with an inflection that suggested it was a name. Scepters were symbols of royalty, but Damian didn’t know anyone who actually used one or went by that name. It was no title he’d ever heard of. Whoever they were, they had to be more powerful than the Navigator if they had truly sent him after Robin.

“Aye, I can hear your brain working from here, little Robin.” The Navigator rolled his eyes, stretching the tiny cyclones. “You three are so similar that I’ll never find peace.”

“I don’t quite follow. State your business quickly; I’m losing my patience.”

The Navigator waved his hand, summoning a tablet out of nowhere. He tapped on it a few times clumsily, like he wasn't used to holding it, and then tossed it to Damian. The boy caught it easily and examined the thing. It looked like a normal tablet, similar to the ones Drake made and sold. It had a shield logo stamped on the back with Egyptian hieroglyphs engraved around the edge. It was warm to the touch, and Damian felt a little tingle as he turned it over in his hands. This was filled with magic.

The screen was made from something other than normal glass, that much he could tell as he scrolled away, trying his best to absorb the information quickly while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a contract, he realized. The contract had been written on papyrus and then scanned in digitally. Half of it was written in a language he recognized but couldn't read. The other half contained details on limitations for the Navigator and instructions he was to follow regarding 'ghostlings,' 'The Guardian,' and...Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian paled beneath the mask. His full name was in this contract. This was about him. The magical being before him knew who he was. He sped through the pages faster, frantically looking for answers.

...And as stated previously, the Navigator, Ancient of Storms, will grant Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne his blessing. This blessing will last the entirety of Damian's natural life until death returns him to the Realms. Upon completing the blessing, the Navigator will dispatch one guard to watch over Damian until the Scepter returns* but will not interfere with him personally.

During this period, the Guardian will fulfill the contract between the Gardener, Ancient of Growth, and one Ra's al Ghul. *The Scepter will enter The Guardian's time loop, and therefore, the Navigator may return to the Realms once the time loop is closed again. The runaway ghostlings will be promptly returned to their Lairs and Haunts in the correct dimensions.

As one last note, the Navigator will also refrain from fucking around with The Sword and The Shield unless he wants to find out what they can do. (I'm serious, too. The Shadow is busy, but I'll still find out if you try something, and I will kick your ass with no hesitation. The other two will be more than willing to punt your ass into Soup Time, as well.)

Upon completing this assignment, I release you from your bind, Ancient of Storms. Return to your Lair and rest with your sylphs. Thank you for your service.

Upon signing, all parties agree to abide by this contract until its terms are met. May the End take our souls if it is ever broken.

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

At the bottom, under the signatures, Damian spotted a smaller note addressed to him.

Damian al Ghul, I look forward to our first meeting. Don't forget to bring your sword!

"You," he breathed heavily, glancing up at the mass of clouds. "Explain. What on earth is this?"

The Navigator cocked his head a little too far to the left. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory," he said in a bored tone. "I was essentially sent on a ravenger hunt to find you and some escaped ghostlings. You shall receive my blessing whether I like it or not, and then I'll leave you to return to my Lair. Hopefully, I'll never have to grace these rotten clouds again!"

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You are useless at explaining. What is this 'Ancient of Storms' title you have? What are these Realms this contract speaks of? Why must you give me a blessing?"

"Ughhh," the Navigator rolled in the air, groaning. "I'm the embodiment of storms, isn't that obvious? I'd rather deal with Plasmius now than talk with a naive ghostling like you. What kind of ghostling speaks like this anyway? It's rude! I've been practicing my manners; the least you can do is humor me. At least Phantom can figure shit out on his own; I don't have to explain anything to him."

"Phantom?" The name caught Damian's attention. "You know Phantom? Who is he? What does he want with my grandfather?"

"Dunno, little Robin. That's between the Scepter and the Gardener. They had a contract in place decades before your grandfather was even born. And since I'm not allowed near Phantom for a while, all I know is that he's been handed over to Ra's al Ghul for a chance at recovery. He was involved in an incident recently. I don't know the details, but he's hurt so badly it's turning the Realms upside down. That's why I was sent away; I thrive off chaos."

"So, again, you are useless," Damian snarled. He turned away, which, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but he was so angry at the lack of answers that he didn't care. He buried himself back into the tablet, scanning through the contract again, looking for anything useful. Everything seemed so organized, yet the information he wanted felt just out of reach.

He vaguely heard the Navigator mutter in surprise. Something about freaky time visions being too accurate before a blinding white hot pain spread across his body. He dropped the tablet, falling to his knees. It felt like lightning was crawling under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He was distantly aware that he was screaming but didn't know how to stop it. Then the pain was gone in the next instant, and he was left collapsed on the roof, eyes screwed shut as shudders racked his body. He smelled burning flesh. A misty touch brushed away his damp bangs, cooling his brow.

"Yup, I'm pretty sure he's still alive," the Navigator murmured. "Well done, little Robin. Perhaps the Scepter knew what she was talking about when she said you could house my power. Either way, I've said my piece. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, and I hope to never see you again. Feel free to pass on those ghost rabies to the Gardener if you ever see him, though."

And with a rumble of thunder, the presence of the spirit disappeared, taking with him the gentle rain and green storm clouds. Damian lay on that roof for what felt like ages, staring into nothing and dazed from the pain. Nightwing eventually found him, however, with Orphan not far behind.

"Baby Bat!" His elder brother cried, sliding to a stop beside him and gathering Damian in his arms. Cass hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"Baba," he croaked in return. "The tablet..."

"Don't worry about that," Nightwing pushed his bangs back, just like the Navigator had. "Are you okay? You're shaking; Oracle lost contact with you over an hour ago and you never showed up to the rendezvous spot. What happened?"

Damian tried to tell him. A being made of storms came by, looking for me by name. He wanted to say. He cut off my comms and shared a contract with me. Then he struck me with lightning and left. We need to bring the tablet back to the Cave for analysis.

But his throat was too dry, and Damian's mind was in too much pain to form the words. As he curled up in Nightwing's arms, all he could mumble was the word 'baba' again and drop his head to the side. Nightwing cursed, instructed Orphan to grab the tablet, and swiftly made the trip back to the Cave with a sense of urgency. Damian groaned the whole way. His body was tender, and every jostle sent tiny shocks through his nerves.

He must have passed out at some point because he remembered skirting around Crime Alley one moment and Alfred checking his vitals the next. The butler gave him a gentle look and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "Where's-" he tried to ask.

"Quiet, Master Damian. Master Dick will be here in a moment." Alfred soothed. Damian dropped it and settled back into the medical bed. When had he taken his clothes off? How long was he out?

A few minutes later, his siblings got the message that he'd awoken and stormed the med bay. "Baby Bat!" Cried Dick, sliding into the room and bolting to Damian's side. "Are you okay? Do you remember us?"

"Yes, baba." Damian croaked. Alfred held a glass of water to his lips, and he sipped carefully to soothe the burn in his throat.

"Dickie told me you got one hell of a shock," Jason, the second eldest, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at them. Cass hung from his side, overwhelmed with anxiety. Steph was shuffling an exhausted Duke into one of the other medical beds, simply so the boy could feel included but still get some rest.

"I did," Damian confessed. Dick gripped his hand tightly, helping him sit up better. "I've been feeling a presence stalk me over the past few weeks, and tonight, I was finally confronted when Cain and I were separated." He left out the part with Pru for now but relayed everything the Navigator had told him, including the details he'd seen on the contract.

Everyone stayed silent as he spoke, but Dick looked like he was ready to bite someone by the end of the story.

"I'm calling everyone back to the Cave," he decided. "This is a Code Addams."

Jason shook his head immediately. "I'm all for punching storm cryptids," he said. "But you know this doesn't fall under Bruce's emergency plans."

"He's right, Dick," Steph frowned. She sat on the other side of Damian's bed, playing with his fingers lightly, and he didn't have the energy to move her. "We can put out a warning, but this sounds like League business to me. Most of us won't really be any help when it comes to al Ghul family drama."

"It's not 'drama,' Brown. Grandfather has taken a new, unknown Heir that has connections to several powerful entities if I'm not mistaken."

Steph nodded. "Yeah! Drama! And if that freaky storm demon shows up again, then we're even less equipped to deal with it. B's not even here right now to help, so we're on our own for this one."

"I'll even send Babs a copy of the contract; she'll probably be able to find something we can't." Jason started tapping away at his phone with one hand, updating the BatKids group chat on the situation and unloading the work onto Barbara.

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

"Hey, Dami?" Duke groaned, cutting everyone off. He was tangled in the thin sheets of the bed now, squinting at the youngest Wayne like he was staring at the sun. "I was kind of half-listening, but you said something about the lightning strike being a blessing, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay, um. Are you aware you glow now? Well, glow more than you used to?"

"...I was not aware. What do you see?"

Duke shuffled and threw an arm over his eyes. The lights of the med bay were giving him a migraine, but he refused to leave now. "You used to just look like a lamp. Now, you look like a bolt of lightning," he said. "There's electricity following your nerves. And your eyes are glowing green—just like Jason's when he's mad. Whatever you got hit with, it's definitely doing something to your body. I just don't know what."

Everyone paused at that.

"Well shit," Jason eventually broke the silence, bringing Cass even closer like a teddy bear. "Looks like we should get a hold of Talia and Bruce, at minimum. Demon Brat, you should probably go to Eth Alth'eban if you want answers."

Damian thumped his head against his thin pillow. "Fuck."

"Potty mouth!"

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

At least he recognized the room. It was the same one as before and actually decorated like a patient's room, not an underground bunker with his own blood splattered on the walls. He groaned, trying to shift his body. How much was he missing? His lungs were back, obviously. They felt raw in his chest. His vocal chords were also half-baked, but speaking wasn't really an issue right now.

What mattered was his pounding headache and the fire beneath his skin. He had started to sweat in his sleep, which is something he'd never done ever since he had died. Danny tried to glance down at this chest. (Had someone slipped his bones back into place?) The bandages were professional work but pulled away easily when he tugged on them. He hissed as they caught on fresh scabs and drew tiny amounts of blood.

His torso was a fucking mess. Danny was underground for ages, he knew. The GIW treated him like an immortal lab rat by tearing open his body every day to poke around and take samples. It was a miracle they didn't find his broken core, which was hidden deep behind his heart.

The cuts on his torso were being held together by surgical staples; no doubt any stitches or glue dissolved when in contact with his blood. His skin was flushed, puckered, and oozed green. The stab wound was fresher and looked nastier than what Lunch Lady could cook up. It was probably infected. He most likely would have scars even as a ghost. Frostbite once told him that wounds to the soul were the hardest to heal, and Danny didn't see himself getting over this anytime soon.

He laid his head back, staring at the smooth ceiling. A whine built in his throat. Why did everything have to hurt? He just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

His parents pretty much disowned him the moment they sold him to the GIW.

The whine turned into a quiet sob, and he let himself sit there and shake. All he had ever done was try to be a good son to his parents, a good friend to Sam and Tucker, and a good brother to Dani and Jazz. Why did it have to be up to him to save others? Sure, it was kind of fun, but the stress of protecting both humans and ghosts got to Danny fast. The others didn't understand. No one understood. And now they never will because Danny was gone and had no home.

And there was that heavy pain again. His core became impossibly cold, uncomfortable against his human heart. It was pulling at his skin and at his bones. He gasped and cried, balling up the bandages in his fist. Was his chest caving in? His core felt like it was trying to turn him inside out and tear him apart.

Why was no one there to help him? Why wasn't he good enough to be saved? Was it because he couldn't save that little girl? Were his failures finally catching up to him? He'll do better, he promises...

Desiree must have heard his silent pleas. The door to his room opened, and a single man entered. It took a moment to recognize him through his tears, but Danny eventually saw that he was the same man who had soothed him to sleep previously.

"Ra's al Ghul," Danny managed. The man nodded to him, coming closer to stare at Danny while he writhed on the bed.

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

"The doctors say you have lungs once more. Use them."

"It hurts-"

"Then let it hurt," Ra's didn't look away from Danny. He was cold but not disgusted. He expected Danny to be strong enough to handle this himself. "You are my Heir now; either embrace the pain or let go of what torments you. Become stronger."

"I can't!" Danny sobbed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to speak. "They'll come back-"

Ra's firmly said, "They shall not."

"You don't know that! I'll be cut up again!"

"You are not from this world, Phantom. Whatever torments you cannot follow."

The words slowly sunk into his brain. The weight was lifted off his chest for a moment. Another world? He wasn't in his home dimension? The GIW didn't exist here? His parents weren't waiting around the corner with a bone saw and handcuffs?

That was great, but that also meant he truly was alone now.

There was no way for him to find his way back, was there?

The pressure from his core lessened, and his body stopped trying to eat itself. His chest expanded again, allowing him to breathe properly through choked sobs and broken groans. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears. He really was useless.

"You are not useless, Phantom." Ra's had a hard light in his eyes. "As mentioned before, you are an al Ghul now, one of my grandsons, no matter what you were previously. You are very valuable to the League now, and I refuse to let you go."

Danny sniffed. "I can't offer you much," he said. "I remember that Undergrowth promised you power and knowledge, but I'm practically a high school dropout, and I'm so weak I can barely lift my head."

"So you shall regain your strength. I have lived a long time, grandson, and I shall live even longer. Your recovery will be swift when compared to the erosion of time."

"Mr. al Ghul..." Danny said defeatedly. His throat felt thick from all the crying. "I couldn't even keep my town safe. All I'm good for is killing kings and pissing people off. I don't want to bring you that kind of shame."

Ra did not show any signs of his satisfaction with Danny's words, but Danny could taste it in the air. "So you were a warrior, yes?"

"I-uh, sort of? I'm a ghost, and I died two years ago. Ghosts fight for every reason and no reason. I kinda had to learn on my feet or risk getting Ended."

"A warrior who cannot die. A man who has the will to act." Ra's appraised him like a prized cow. "Yes, I shall be able to use you, child. The al Ghul legacy shall never die out if you become the Demon's Head. Phantom al Ghul is a...fitting name, I suppose."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what half of that means, but okay. And my name isn't really Phantom; that's just my title and hero name. My real name is Danny."

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

"Daniel, now that your tears have stopped, let me call for refreshments and fresh bandages. We must discuss the Gardener's contract and your usefulness in great detail."

Danny sighed. He was calmer, but now he had to do an Ancient's magic paperwork? He'd rather let his core swallow him whole.

At least someone needed him again.

The group followed Jazz’s decision without a second thought and stepped through the giant portal alongside her. Luckily, it led right to the edge of the In-Between, where Clockwork and a few others resided in their individual spaces. Jazz yelped as she realized there was no solid surface to land on and flipped around in the air uncontrollably. Sam and Tucker had the same fate. All of them kind of bobbed around like ducks in the water before Danielle sighed, gathered them all up with some rope from Tucker’s pack, and hauled them along in the vague direction of Clockwork’s tower.

For a space called Long Now, it didn't take very long to reach the tower, even with Dani hauling along three passengers. Everyone was pretty quiet during the ride, still processing what they had seen in the underground facility. It was a little strange. None of them felt disgust or fear at Danny's actions, but anger and sadness at what he was forced to endure. Not once did they consider abandoning him, even though others might have shied away from his monstrous outburst.

Jazz wondered what Clockwork could possibly say to them that would make the whole thing better. She just wanted to see Danny. She wanted to sit down with him and watch shitty kid's movies while they huddled under that one big quilt her parents had. The one that was gifted to them as a wedding gift and the one they added to when something important happened. She felt horrible thinking about it now.

Jazz would probably never see that quilt again. And if she did, she would probably burn it.

"We're here," Dani quietly announced, untethering the group from her body as they touched Clockwork's island. Long Now was a special place even in the In-Between. The tower's foundations were in varying stages of decay, and much like its owner, the building warped from looking good as new to 'about to fall over' kind of old right before their eyes. Everything felt so fragile.

They entered the lower entrance, climbing a spiral staircase past rows and rows of clocks lining the walls. Everything was ticking out of sync, which usually annoyed Jazz to no end. Right now, she couldn't care less.

Reaching the top had a lack of fanfare. One minute they were passing the biggest fucking grandfather clock they'd ever seen, and the next, they were in Clockwork's main room at the top of the tower, facing the old ghost himself.

Clockwork didn't even look at them. He seemed exhausted.

"We're here," Jazz announced. "Tell us what you know."

"No greetings, Jasmine? I thought you raised Danny to have manners, so where are yours?"

"Locked behind the walls of Fentonworks. Tell us what you know, Clockwork, or I'll break everything here." She snarled. It wasn't an empty threat, and everyone knew it.

"Please, Clockwork," Tucker added. "We saw your message. Where's Danny?"

Dani started crying into Sam's shoulder. "Where's my brother?" The ghost girl sobbed. "I want to see Danny!"

Clockwork sighed. He was aging rapidly, growing wrinkles as they watched. "Daniel is safe, for now. I hid him in another world. However, the flow of time has changed. New paths are being forged. If things continue as they are, Daniel will become something worse than Dan."

Danielle muffled another sob.

"Daniel did something I did not expect while having his rampage in Yellowstone. It will take a delicate hand to make sure his actions do not cause him to go down the wrong path."

"What did he do?"

Clockwork looked them each in the eye. His eyes were glassy and blank, like the face of a new watch, but his sincerity was enough to reach them. "He sealed off the Realms."

Tucker choked. "I'm sorry, he wHAT??"

"Daniel, in his explosion of sudden power, sealed off the Infinite Realms from your home world's influence. Only the power of an Ancient can break that barrier now. The only portal still open is the one located in Fentonworks, protected by the strongest shield your mortal world has to offer. Vortex had to be sent out to collect ghostlings who didn't return in time. By sealing off the Realms, Daniel effectively declared they were under his protection and claimed the title 'Guardian' since only Guardians have the right to seal off worlds."

Jazz's mind was spinning. "He...sealed off our world. Did he do it on purpose?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. This was a decision made by Fate alone. He was simply the strongest power source available that was also willing to defend the Realms to his End. The Realms responded in kind and claimed him as Guardian. That is a title and a burden he will share forever."

"Oh, god..." Jazz sat heavily on the floor, reeling from the shock. Dani left Sam's shoulder and crumpled into her lap, still crying. Tucker and Sam also offered each other comfort, leaning on each other as Clockwork's words sunk in. "So, what happens to him? Where is he now? What future do we have to avoid?"

Clockwork waved his staff, summoning a few large clocks with reflective surfaces. The clockfaces glitched and changed to show different pictures of Danny, all doing various things at different stages in his life. One had Danny laughing with a group of strangers. Another had him shaking hands with a green-skinned man. A third was him sitting in a hospital bed, getting stabbed in the chest. They cycled through different pictures and videos, and it was hard to look away.

"This is the future we must avoid." Clockwork motioned to the smallest clock, which showed a furious Danny screaming into the vacuum of space, tears pouring down his face. A large rip into the Realms tore open from his Wail, and the stars surrounding him started to get sucked in.

"If this future comes true, Daniel will destroy not only your home world but the Realms as a whole," The Ancient explained. "Because of his new link to the Realms, no one will be able to take the title of Guardian from him. He will become a destroyer and tear apart every universe and every timeline. Everything will just...End."

"That's horrible," Sam whispered. "What's the tipping point?"

Again, Clockwork looked them deep in their eyes. "Your betrayals."

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

"You betray him by dying, Danielle. You melt in his arms and ask why he didn't save you. Samantha, you betray him by leaving him. Your home world is never unsealed and you can't stand not being able to see your grandmother again. Tucker, you betray him by lying to him. You say you're on his side but end up stabbing him in the back for a 'good cause.' Jasmine, you betray him by acting just like your parents." Jazz felt tears prick her eyes, but Clockwork kept going. "You see the monster he has become and can't look past it. The four of you betraying him would be his last straw, and Daniel would rather tear apart the universe than be reminded of you four ever again. And so he does."

Sam protested, "We would never!"

"You wouldn't." Clockwork agreed. "But you can, and in some ways, you already have. That is how time works. If you do not want to bring about this end, you must actively fight against this destiny like Daniel has fought against Dan."

Tucker whipped out his PDA, already taking notes. "What's the game plan, then? I would rather eat Dash's underwear than stab Danny in the back. If I have to throw hands with an evil version of myself from the future, I'm willing to do that, too."

Clockwork smiled at them for the first time since their arrival. "That was the right response," he told Tucker. "You're already taking a step away from that future. But for the best ending for everyone, all four of you will need to connect with the Realms as well."

"But we don't have the same power that Danny does."

"No, but your will is just as strong as his. Prove to the Realms that you're willing to fight, protect, and love just as much as Daniel. Become his support. Do it right, follow in his footsteps, and the Realms shall accept you with open arms. You will be bound together as a family for eternity."

The four looked at each other. Jazz gently wiped away the remainder of Dani's tears as they pondered over the ghost's words. Connecting with the Realms would probably mean giving up some amount of their humanity, especially if it truly was a forever thing. They might follow in Danny's footsteps a little too closely-but for their friend and brother? They would do anything.

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

"I don't plan on eating any underwear, but I will fight evil me if that's what it takes."

Clockwork shriveled up, folding in on himself several times before unfolding into a child, like a phoenix (but without the fire). He looked less exhausted now, less like the promise of the End was no longer hovering over his shoulder. "Become the Guardian's Shadow, Danielle. Take up his mantle while he is away and keep the peace in his stead. Be the Guardian's Sword, Samantha. Be at the front of each fight and kill when he cannot. The Guardian's Shield will be you, Tucker. Your wish to protect those around you will come true, and you will gain the power to shield them from harm. And Jasmine-"

Jazz held her breath.

"You will have the most difficult job. You will be the Guardian's Scepter. His symbol of power. You will work behind the scenes to stage events that shall work in his favor no matter what."

She released her breath, surprised. "A scepter? Like the symbol of royalty? But wasn't the position of King given to another?"

"In sorts. Daniel helped elect a council to rule the Realms and refused to be a part of it. However, you shall be his Scepter, only wielded in times of need. You will take the dark and harsher jobs that shouldn't be brought to life. You will pull the strings to ensure the timelines stay together, and he never strays from the path."

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

After Jason's statement about coming to see Ra's in person, the whole Batfamily blew up. Words were said in person and over text, and Damian was too exhausted at the time to get a word in edgewise, so let Jason argue for him. Eventually, Bruce had to take a moment away from his League duties and settle the matter over a conference call. After debating, he allowed Damian to return to the League of Assassins, provided Dick went with him. The man was already on a leave of absence from his job to cover for Batman, and he could keep a level head when dealing with the Demon's Head.

So off they went as soon as Alfred gave Damian the all-clear. Strangely enough, he had no side effects from being struck by fucking lightning. Well, almost none. He did feel flush every once in a while, and his veins burned like there was liquid battery acid in them, but other than that, he was fine! No, he didn't need another cold press, Alfred! It was only a few hours by plane; he'd be fine!

And honestly, with the news that Eth Alth’eban was on lockdown, Damian thought it would be harder to enter the city. Undetected, at least. Sadly, they were found out immediately and had a group waiting for them as they touched down. As soon as he stepped off the Batplane onto the private airstrip in Yemen, he was quickly surrounded by the 'welcoming' entourage of assassins. They took his bags, herding him toward a black car as Dick jogged to keep up with them. Damian was glad they didn't do a pat-down in their rush; he'd hidden the tablet under his clothes just for this purpose.

"Hey!" his brother shouted. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

"This is a League matter, Nightwing." The head of the group, a one-eyed man named after the god Balor, whom Damian recognized as part of his grandfather's elite, barely turned to look at Grayson and dismissed him entirely.

“No, this is a family matter,” Dick leaned against the door of the car, preventing Balor from opening it and shoving Damian in. They stared at each other long and hard.

“You are not an al Ghul.”

“Damian was nearly killed by a storm demon and told there was a new Heir who is somehow connected to said storm demon. I’m not leaving him alone.”

Balor considered the options before him, glancing at Damian. His one good eye assessed him. The boy simply raised a brow. “I’d prefer it if my baba came with us.”

The assassin’s face twitched, which was the equivalent of a snort of disgust, but gave in to Dick’s demands and herded them both into the car. Two more assassins slid in on either side of them while Balor took the passenger seat. The driver barely glanced at the airport security as they drove the vehicle off the tarmac and into the middle of the desert.

The drive felt long. Damian held a stoic face whenever Balor looked at him and refused to engage in any conversation with Dick. Even when the AC was turned off, everyone started sweating, and his brother was threatening to sing show tunes until they turned it back on.

He ended up singing, of course. Damian just zoned out as his brother started warbling through the entire soundtrack of Hairspray. Truly, the man had questionable taste. For their credit, the assassins made it through the entire performance of Hairspray and halfway through High School Musical before the driver slowly leaned over, never taking their eyes off the desert landscape, and flicked the AC back on to blast. They lasted longer than Bruce would have.

Dick still finished the High School Musical soundtrack despite getting what he wanted. No one ever said he did things half-assed.

Finally, Damian spotted the maze of canyons that housed the Assassin City, Eth Alth’eban. Damian wasn’t sure if his elder brother had ever been there before, but the tight hold he had on his hand suggested that Dick either had very complicated memories of the place or was anxious about being in enemy territory. He wasn’t really interested in asking.

As they approached, the main gate was large and imposing. The sun was high in the sky now and beat down on them to reflect all the minute details that had been carved into the gates. They were gorgeous pieces of work, ones that Ra’s was no doubt very proud of. Guards were there to welcome them, examining the vehicle from top to bottom to ensure nothing strange was being brought in from the outside world. Damian glared at his brother when the man leaned forward to take the attention off of him and the hidden tablet, loudly asking the outside guards when they could go in yet.

One of them narrowed their eyes at Dick. “An extra?” They hissed in Arabic. “This was not approved by the Demon’s Head.”

Balor jerked a thumb at Damian. “His choice,” he responded simply. “The Bats are never alone. The Head is aware of this." Since when? They never called ahead. Damian felt the burn of lighting in his veins again. He caught Balor's eye in the rearview mirror and realized that the man's eye color was much lighter than it was supposed to be. It was shifting between gray and blue, like a cloud, and stared at him with unusual intensity.

Fuck. Of course, the secret guard that was mentioned in the contract. It must have gone into effect when the Navigator returned to wherever he came from. How did he know they would end up in the Eth Alth'eban?

Whatever was said next, Damian missed, but eventually, the gates opened, and the car was let through. Dick was quiet once more, staring at the lush city, probably trying to figure out how to do a backflip off the tall buildings. They headed straight for the palace that was past the training grounds. Most people were taking a noon daybreak, so the grounds were empty when the car pulled up next to the designated drop-off point.

Balor motioned for the group to leave the car, and the two assassins tugged on Dick’s arm painfully, practically dragging him along and not allowing any room for him to wander off. Damian wasn’t touched, but he was no less shuffled in the same direction. They went up the steps, through hallways lined with servants and fountains, following a path Damian recognized easily. They were headed to the medical wing.

His mind raced. Was he ready to meet this ‘Phantom’ fellow? Would he insist on fighting to the death to prove his worth? Had his mother gotten his message and made it here before him? So many questions ran through his head, yet this was not the time to ask them. Damian bit his tongue and instead played the part of the perfect al Ghul. Silent, deadly, and proud.

Balor was leading the way. He studied the older man's back carefully, looking for any other inconsistencies in his behavior. There were none, except for a single cloud symbol stamped into his neck that shimmered the same color as Vortex. Did this mean he was possessed? Was he another one of the Navigator's blessed? Did Damian also have the same symbol? No one else seemed to notice the mark, so Damian put it in the back of his mind. He'd have Dick check his neck later, just in case.

They'd reached the end of the medical wing now, where Damian knew the rooms were sealed off for quarantined patients.

Indeed, a pair of guards stood in front of the extra set of doors. Balor nodded to the guards and pushed through without stopping. The quarantined corridor was short, with only six rooms, three on each side. Five were marked with a little green flag by the door, indicating their vacancy. The sixth, the farthest on the left, had a little red flag displayed. Damian pushed his way to the front of the group and beelined for the door. This was it. Soon, he'd have some answers.

His grandfather opened the door before he could knock. The al Ghuls looked at each other, noting how much had changed since they had last seen each other. His grandfather looked…well. He was healthy, and there were no visible injuries. His clothes were immaculate but simpler than his usual ornate robes. It felt like Ra's was dressed for a close social visit, not for taking over the world and planning murder.

"Damian," His grandfather was as short as ever, however. "You are late."

"Good to see you too, old man," Dick snarked. Ra's ignored him, waving a hand to Balor, who promptly shut the door again before Dick could walk through after Damian. The two were to wait in the hallway, apparently.

Damian moved further past his grandfather, forgoing the greeting. His eyes were glued to the hospital bed. Draped in rich blankets and wrapped in soft cotton bandages, a boy around his age was sitting up and staring at him with green eyes similar to his own. He was holding a glass of Lazarus water, raised to his lips like he was about to drink it. Honestly, if it wasn't for his incredibly pale skin and wispy white hair, the boy could have been his-

"Holy shit, we look exactly the same!" The boy lowered the glass, staring at Damian in wonder. His voice was double-layered, like the Navigator's, and it grated on Damian's mind with the sounds of screaming and creaking ice. "Are you Mr. al Ghul's other grandson? This is so freaky!"

Ah, so this was Phantom.

#dpxdc #pondhead writes #the folly of men fic #no beta we die like danny #long post #really long post #I asked myself how many titles i can give people and my hands took that as a challenge #the reason undergrowth and vortex go by those weird ass names is because the words for their name don't exist in the dc world #add that to ghost speech and basically it's easier to give themselves a title over the centuries #clockwork is just dramatic

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ruthytwoshakes · 10 months

Text

Howdy everyone!! I got super inspired by @a-scary-lack-of-common-sense class swap au and wanted to try my hand at it!

I really love these designs!! If people like them too I’ll make some full refs and make some more content with them. I probably will anyway because I have so many ideas.

Under the keep reading I added wayyy too much description if you’re interested. You are interested you will read I’m using my evil mind magic to make you want to read

(I’ll address them by their names to make it less confusing btw. Pyro and Spy are called Demonan and Soldier though. I’ll name them one day probably)

For Medic and Heavy I kinda swapped their backstories and personalities. Misha is an only child who comes from a family of, fucked up to say the least, doctors. He lost his medical license for stealing the entirety of a patient’s skin. Misha is much more of a hardass with a superiority complex. Cold and callous. He takes himself and his work very seriously,, thinks he is very scary. The other mercs don’t really give a shit, which infuriates him to no end. He cares about his teammates! somewhere deep down inside ,, like really far down. Probably. Really attached to his tools, names them like how the original Heavy names his guns. He’s pretty fluent with English.

Ludwig is much more silly and caring. He’s the youngest sibling out of his 3 sisters, and took this job because he feels obligated to pay back his family for protecting him and helping him go through college. He’s not sadistic per se, more just, really loves the blood, guts, and carnage of war, and has a very morbid curiosity. He often accompanies the Medic when he's doing operations, if he's not already the patient himself. Misha adores how fascinated he is by all of it, and gladly answers and questions he may have. Very loud and extroverted,, his laughs can be heard from miles away. He kinda scares the other mercs, but he’s trying his best to tone it down. He has a horde of pigeons that just ,, follow him around. He doesn’t really know where they came from. His favorite is named Euripides. He’s intermediate at English.

For Sniper and Scout I kinda kept their backstories the same, they just had different personalities and life circumstances that led to them taking their respective jobs. Jeremy is the older brother of 7 little sisters. His mother had him when she was 16 and going through college, leading Jeremy to have to grow up fast. He and his mom have always had to pick up odd jobs to help pay the bills. One of Jeremy’s bosses took him out onto a shooting range one day and noticed he was a natural. He encouraged him to take up predator/invasive species control to help pay the bills and helped him get started, Jeremy eventually saved up enough to move to the northwest. As he got more skilled, some shady people took note and offered him some more,,, lucrative opportunities. He’s a hick with a slight Boston accent, making him all the more awkward. Pretty introverted, the only friends he's ever had is his little siblings. He’s quick-witted when he wants to be, but usually stays quiet. He seems pretty cold tough, but will change really quickly around little kids. Drinks way too many energy drinks to compensate for his insomnia.

Mick is an only child and basically the Australian version of Scout. Which is a terrifying concept!! he scares me. He’s a pretty extroverted guy, but was still bullied for his scrawny appearance and a lack of mustache hairs when he was little, so he devoted himself to becoming the best track runner in Australia. Also he couldn’t win a fight against anyone and he tended to piss off a lot of people, so running was a necessity. He doesn’t have any siblings, but he has a lot of older friends who treat him like a little brother. He likes to paint in his free time. Took the job to help support his parents and to explore the world, or just New Mexico. Annoying jock bastard. He wears those tank tops with the holes at the sides that just go all the way down,, not even a shirt at that point. Still throws piss at people because I think its really fucking funny.

Nobody quite knows where Soldier came from, not even herself. All she knows is that she’s a General, and a damn good one at that. Although his team would like to suggest otherwise. She’s loud and erratic, missing quite a few cogs in her brain. Not lead poisoned like the original soldier, I’m leaning towards a lobotomy that really melted his brain, soupe de cerveau or somethinf. Even though she lost her mind, she kept her great commanding skills and leads the team in attacks. He can be found planning and strategizing for the next round, or hanging out with the other team’s Demo. A bit silly, a bit goofy. Comically patriotic like the original Soldier. Parleys-tu Français, DO YOU SPEAK FRRRENCH ??? Non tu ne le fais pas, you don’t? FUCK YOU

Tavish and pyros personalities are a kinda combined? I just took little bits from both of them and squashed them together. Tavish is a pyromaniac hailing from Scotland. There’s rumors that he was the cause of the fire storm that rained down on Scotland for about a week, but he’s never confirmed or denied this. His voice isn’t all that muffled, his Scottish dialect is just so thick that nobody can understand him, except for Ms Pauling and Engineer like usual. Tavish can be pretty unstable and hyperactive, but an overall happy-go-lucky guy. Drinks responsibly most of the time! Still depressed! Lots of Molotov cocktails. His favorite animal is the Pegasus, and his life's goal is to find and tame one some day.

Dell is the same personality wise, just more like spy. So a bit more stuck up lol. He also shares the same care that the original spy shows for his team, as long as it benefits him along the way. Dell comes from a long family line of Spy’s that all worked for the Mann brothers, they stole Australium for them and kept them safe from other entity's that wanted to have control over the Australium too. His goggles have all that super cool spy stuff in them, night vision, cameras, a radio. Jane helped him add some new features as of late, . I'm not sure how to incorporate Dell's fascination with trans-humanism into this Dell quite yet. Maybe something to do with his senses? Name’s Spy. Spy Gaming.

Jane is pretty much the same silly little guy,, but now with 11 phds! And he’s not lead poisoned anymore! Nobody’s quite sure where Jane comes from, every time he’s asked he always changes up his backstory. He tends to slack off more than the original soldier, "A good hard-working American always knows when to take breaks!" He's also built a variety of raccoon-themed machines that get into mischief around the base. He and the Pyro are good buddies! He likes reading their stories, and gently encouraging them to write more. He's pretty strict when it comes to safety, and will come down hard on his teammates for messing around. THAT IS NOT OSHA APPROVED HEAD-WEAR MAGGOT!

Demoman is more like Tavish backstory-wise in this. They’re a midwesterner with way too much free time who blew up their family’s corn field by accident when they were little, oh and their parents. Their bio family crawled out from the remains of the farm and took them in after they proved themselves, even with their lack of tentacles and wings. (yeah their parents are the Great Old Ones, cthulhu guys, for sillies :3 ) They still like to do creative stuff (but adult-ified because adults are insecure about having fun for some reason.) like adult coloring books, or oil painting, or having adult tea parties. Demoland is a book that they're writing, and will TOTALLY 100% work on this weekend. They hate eye contact and have never been seen without their bombsuit on, except for Scout, but he can comprehend these otherworldy horrors perfectly fine so idk maybe you have a skill issue or something.

Heavy is Medic

Medic is Heavy

Sniper is Scout

Scout is Sniper

Spy is Soldier

Demoman is Pyro

Engineer is Spy

Soldier is Engineer

Pyro is Demoman

notes: I was thinking of making Dell Jeremy's father, but I didn't want to change up Jeremy's facial features too much, so Spy remains. Mick has that neck-mic thingy that soap from COD has because I was scrolling through soapghost on pintrest help. Soldier wasn't actually a general, I was thinking he was just somebody who knew too much. But after she got the lobotomy, I'm thinking she did something similar to soldier and tried to get into the military, and failed. Ludwig is the biggest on the team, with Misha having a more agile body type. Still a bear!! Just a bit smaller. This art is a bit old because I've been working on this since MAY?!?!??? ough. Maybe I'll swap some side characters as well! Pauling with Bidwell, Saxton with Helen, if ya want you could give me some suggestions 👁 👁 This is all Merasmus's fault some how, babygirl messes up the timeline for the sillies, the funny haha even. I love her <3333 Also sorry if the info for Jeremy is incorrect, I just thought it would be neat idk a whole lot about hunting.

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