#scrawny ass boi with big ass sword
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How big IS Bichen, really? Bonus: Baxia
tl;dr Bichen is LUDICROUSLY huge, probably something to the tune of 5.5kg/12lb and towards the upper end of 1.6m/5′3 to 1.83m/6′0 - taller than MXY!WWX. Baxia would be something to the tune of 79cm/31″, but could plausibly be larger.
So Bichen is explicitly stated to:
1) Be carried on LWJ’s back (Novel, Chapter 14)
2) Be too heavy for non-cultivators to wield (Novel, Chapter 7)
On sword weight, generally:
Importantly: it is too heavy for a non-cultivator to wield, not pick up.
Because wield vs pick up are two very different definitions. I can pick up a 1.4kg/3.1lb German messer sword with no problem. Can I wield that thing? Not one-handed like it was meant to be, with my scrawny arms.
The upper end of usable weight for a regular human sword or polearm is around the 4.5kg/10lb mark, and I am pretty sure that's really only wield-able by someone who's already in decent shape, trained, and using it with both hands.
It doesn't sound like much, but imagine swinging that much weight from one end of a 6ft/1.83m long barbell - since most of these weapons were 6ft /1.83m or longer - repeatedly, with enough agility and speed to not die in combat. Or better still - holding it above your head for a couple of minutes in a ready/guarding position.
Heavier swords and polearms did exist - for ceremonial purposes. They're deliberately designed to be ungodly huge and impressive, not for practical, combat use.
A sword that's too heavy for a non-cultivator to wield could just be something that's like, 5.5kg/12lb. Too heavy for them to pick up would be... look I'm scrawny as hell, I’m not athletic and I have joint problems, but using both hands, I can pick up at least 16kg/35lb no problem, probably north of that if I tried.
For a sword to be heavier than what an active non-cultivator can even pick up, so we’re talking north of 20kg/44lb, it would have to be made of depleted uranium along with whatever xianxia magic is going on with the sword. But too heavy for a non-cultivator to wield is entirely reasonable.
On cultivator swords:
I figure most cultivators would wield swords that are at the larger end of sensible to begin with, a little longer and heavier than they should be for the double-edged jian they’re shown using (extra cutting/penetration power in their favour! And they have the strength to negate the extra weight making it less agile and more tiring!). Say, 80cm/31″ and 0.9kg/2lb, for the average cultivator.
This would be well within “strap it to your hip and call it a day” length - and frankly strapping it to your back is not a great idea unless you absolutely cannot find a better way to carry that kind of size and you’re sure you don’t need it quickly, because there’s - not really a good way to unsheathe it as quickly if you do. Frankly I don’t think this was really done historically unless you were like, transporting gear, and didn’t expect to be attacked at that moment - even the famous giant-ass Zwëihanders weren’t back-strapped into battle situations.
On Bichen specifically:
Now consider how big a sword it has to be that LWJ, 1.88m/6′2 tree, goes “... nope, I can’t possibly hip-strap this” and straps it to his back.
Supposedly, irl jian got up to 1.6m/5'3, though this wasn’t very common. The average height of a Chinese man born in 1810 - the earliest date with data - is 1.66m/5'5, and this stayed pretty consistent for a long time, which means the 1.6m/5'3 jian was most likely constructed with a roughly 1.66m/5'5 wielder in mind.
So according to the historical record, LWJ could wield a 1.6m/5′3 sword and be within the bounds of what was done historically.
Or, if he got it when he was at or nearing adult height, our boi could decide to leverage his probable future height and strength into wielding an obnoxiously huge sword for maximum possible reach and stopping power.
Bluntly - Bichen could easily be 1.83m/6′0 and still make complete sense from a historical perspective - an exceptionally large sword made for an exceptionally tall and physically powerful individual.
And from a weight perspective? Let’s compare a hypothetical 1.83m/6′0, 5.5kg/12lb double-edged jian to a cousin, size-wise:
The Zwëihander, which ranged from between 1.4m-1.8m/4′7-5′11, and something to the tune of 2.5kg-4kg/5.5lb-8.8lb. Bichen would actually be heavier than its hypothetical German counterpart, which is saying something, because at those lengths the Zwëihanders have MASSIVE crossguards and are often intended to be half-sworded - you grabbed the blade about halfway up to better control the point and say, drive it into a joint in the armour.
I would compare it to the odachi, but 1) that’s a single-edged blade, and I don’t know enough to say if the weight will differ 2) I cannot find any solid info for how much a 1.8m long odachi would weigh. Claymores - yep, ditto. I can’t dig up info quickly enough.
tl;dr Bichen is probably 1.83m/6′0 and north of 5.5kg/12lb - it’s taller than MXY!WWX and weighs more than a small dog. No wonder he has to back-strap it.
Now, remember that incense burner scene? Yeah, now remember that Bichen is quite likely as tall as WWX is.
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Bonus: Baxia!
On a side note, the art of Baxia in the MDZS official artbook looks like it's based off the 大刀 da dao, lit. Big Saber. Yes, very creative naming. The da dao is also surprisingly short, going off the specimen in the British Imperial War Museum which is a grand total of 79cm/31″, but given that these are 1) cultivators 2) NMJ 'actual ox' rather than relatively short interwar-period Chinese (when this originated), just like... add 15cm/6″ or something to the length I guess if you want.
#mdzs#cql#godc#gdc#mo dao zu shi#chen qing ling#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#the grandmaster of diabolism#grandmaster of demonic arts#lwj#lan wangji#lan zhan#bichen#hanguang jun#the untamed#nie mingjue#nmj#baxia#meta
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The Kent Farm
We all need more Ma and Pa Kent in our lives, and a lot of people started liking this post so enjoy!
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If there’s one place all heroes know to go for rest, a good meal, and the best company, it’s Martha and Jonathan Kent’s farm. The only thing the older couple asked for in exchange was help with a chore. Chopping wood, tending to animals, fixing machinery, dishes, anything they wanted, so long as something got done.
Their own family had expanded too, with a daughter-in-law and three grandsons joining the table. Doesn’t matter to them that only one grandson is biologically Clark and Lois’s. If anyone knows blood doesn’t make a family, it’s the Kents. With those grandsons come a mess of super powered friends, all of whom adore the elder couple. So Jon asking for the boys of his team to spend the weekend with them wasn’t an issue. So long as they helped out.
After an afternoon of chores and delicious dinner, the four had been relieved of duty for the night. Jon lead them to an old shed on the edge of the farm, before the fields swallowed everything for acres and acres.
“Hell yeah! Boys weekend!” 14-year-old Jai shouts, jumping over a fence.
12-year-old Jon laughs, shushing his friend, “If Ma hears you swear, she’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”
“Psh, she’s gotta catch me first!”
13-year-old Colin snorts, “She raised Superman. I think she can take your scrawny ass. Besides, it’s nice she’s letting us sleep over—“
“-tt- this isn’t a sleepover. It’s training. Your grandparents’ farm allows us more room to utilize your abilities.”
“Damian, tell me something,” Colin throws an arm over his friend’s shoulder, “What’s it like to be an grouchy old man at 14?”
“Remove your arm before I break it.”
“Ma would kick your ass if you tried.”
“I don’t fear her.” Damian raises a brow as Jon snorts, “Something funny, Kent?”
“Y’all underestimate M—” The super freezes, head cocking to the side. “Someone’s here.”
“Hello, Grandson.” The boys whip around, Damian drawing a dagger from his belt. A small group of men with swords and other weapons stand infront of the old shed. One steps forward, dressed in robes they’d seen in Damian’s closet. Gray hair tells them he’s old, but something tells them he’s older than he appears.
Though 3 of them only know the man before them from pictures, Damian’s demeanor shift confirms it. Ra’s al Ghul, the demon’s head, and yes Damian’s grandfather. The jade eyes they know well take in each boy. From Jon’s messy hair and unnecessary glasses to Colin’s too big, worn clothes to the duct tap holding Jai’s sneakers together.
“So this is who you surround yourself with, Grandson?” Ra’s tuts. “Your father has been a worse influence than I feared. Nevertheless it is time for you to come back with me.”
“…Back? To Nanda Parbat?” Damian’s natural accent comes out as he names his birth place. Even after five years away, he can still see sunrise peak over the mountain ranges, the rivers he’d run through, the crisp air in his lungs, the hot springs he’d bathe in. His heart aches for it, though he knows the parts he’s forgetting.
“Yes. Back to your true home. Back at my side, as it should be.” Ra’s extends his hand, “Let’s go.”
Part of Damian considers it. Just for a moment. And he hates that part of himself more than anything. How could he give up his life? His parents, his siblings, his team? How could he turn his back on them?
Jai’s voice, dripping with sarcasm, breaks his train of thought, “Gosh, Damian, that sounds like a super idea! You should definitely rejoin the guy that used you as a punching bag!”
“You talk too much.” Ra’s narrows his eyes at the speedster, hand resting on his sheathed sword.
“Well, your family inflicts physical and psychological trauma. Mine talks too much.” Jai lowers himself, lightning rippling under his skin, “Wanna see what else they taught me?”
“West, stand down.” Damian barks. Surprisingly, the speedster doesn’t argue. The boy wonder stares down his grandfather, praying his voice isn’t shaking as much as it feels like, “I’m not going anywhere with you. You need to leave. Now.”
“Damian, you will return with me or I will have these…distractions—”
A sound behind the boys silences the group. The unmistakable sound of a shotgun being loaded. Ma’s cool voice floats over them, “Now, I know y’all weren’t fixin’ to put your hands on my grandbaby and his friends.”
“This does not concern you.” Ra’s gestures to Damian, ignoring the boy’s flinch. “This is a family matter. I am his grandfather—“
“Oh, we know who you are,” Pa steps infront of the boys, gun leveled at the Demon’s Head, “Our boy, Clark, told us plenty about what you’ve done him. Right now, that’s the only reason you’re still standing. We ain’t fixin’ to scar this poor boy anymore. Now, I’ll say this once—Git off my land.”
Ra’s narrows his eyes, hand resting on his sword, “You think those weapons scare us—“
Ma interrupts him, “Oh, no. But Clarky and our other grandboys’ll hear it. Chances are one of them’ll tell Jai’s daddy. Jai, baby, your daddy can move mighty fast when he wants to, yeah?”
The young speedster nods, but that barely earns a scoff from the assassin, “You wouldn’t dare—”
BAM!! The wooden post behind Ra’s splinters into a thousand pieces. The boys look back to see Ma pump her gun, aiming it again at the assassins.
“My husband said git.”
“Why you—” Ra’s takes one step towards them. Jon jumps in front of his grandparents, blue eyes turning bright red. The veins in Colin’s neck bulge, body shifting into Abuse as he stands behind Ma. Jai stands in his toes, lightning rippling faster under his skin. Damian…Damian stands beside them all, a dagger drawn.
“Leave.” Damian wishes he could control the shaking in his voice. But he continues to stand his ground. That much he can do.
The others look to their leader. Ra’s and Damian stare down, neither wavering. A smirk appears on the old man’s face.
“We will continue this conversation another time, Grandson.” Ra’s doesn’t say the word like Ma or Pa do. To them, that word means adoration. To Ra’s? It means possession.
The young heroes don’t move until Jon confirms they’re far enough away. Passing her weapon to her husband, Martha Kent looks at the four boys.
“Alrighty, sweet peas,” Ma pats Colin’s cheek, unphased by scrawny-orphan-turned-behemoth, “Let’s go inside for some cocoa. Colin, baby, you let me know if you’re hurtin’ any. Don’t want any of my grandbabies in pain.”
Shrinking to his original size, Colin joins the others inside the kitchen. He and Jai fight over a plate of cookies, both claiming to need the calories. Ma tucks a hot water bottle behind the redhead, ruffling his hair. Jon helps his grandfather put the weapons away safely, then answering a call from Clark.
Damian, though? Damian sits alone in the living room. Staring at the fire while he listens to the joyful sounds around him. He doesn’t deserve to be part of that. He brought those killers…brought him here. Could have gotten them killed. Not just Ma and Pa, but his friends.
Friends. Can he really call them that? They call themselves his friends but…they don’t know what he did as a child. What horrors he was forced to witness, that he had thought a honor to do so. Do they know why he only changes in private? Scars that will never fade. Who would want to be friends with someone like him? Who could love someone like him?
“Here we go, sweet pea.” A plate of cookies and mug of cocoa appear in front of him. Then a warm blanket wraps around his small shoulders, “Much better.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Baby, you brood like your daddy. Now, I’m not gonna force you to spend time with us, but it ain’t in my nature to let anyone be lonely in my home.”
“…Why don’t you hate me? My grandfather could have…he was going to…”
Ma tilts his head up, “I don’t have room in my heart for hate. ‘Specially for someone as sweet as you. Now, I expect that plate and mug to be empty when I get back. Understand?”
“….Yes, ma’am…”
There’s a crack of lightning outside and a frantic voice shouting, “Jai?! Jai!”
“Dad?! Dad!” Jai races out the front door. Wally catches him, hugging him tight. “Dad!”
“God, Clark just called. He said you were alright but I needed to see you.” Wally sets his son down, checking his face for any sign of injury. Finding none, he just holds his face, “Jai Bartholomew West, did you really taunt Ra’s al Ghul?”
“Am I grounded if I say yes? If so, I’d like to argue that my middle name is punishment enough.”
Wally just laughs and shakes his head, “You’re a crazy kid.”
“Like my dad.” Jai hugs Wally again, letting his father pick him up. The hero nods at Ma, Pa, and the other boys. Damian still has the blanket around himself.
“Sorry. Like I said, Clark called and told us what happened. He, Kon, and Chris are going to stop by after they make sure Ra’s is gone. Hey, Damian?”
The former assassin looks up at his name.
“Bruce and Selina are on their way.”
Damian blinks, “They-they are?”
“Of course. They’re worried about you.”
“….Thank you for telling me.” He looks at Ma, “May I go inside?”
“Of course, baby. There’s some books in Clarky’s old room you might like. The rest of you, to the kitchen for cookies. You two,” Ma wags her finger at Wally and Jai, “Save some for the others.”
“Oh, no,” Wally protests, even as his son drags him onto the porch. “I don’t want to intrude—”
Pa snorts, clapping the speedster on the shoulder, “Wally, I’ve been married to Martha for 50 years. You ain’t gonna win this argument. Now, c’mon in.”
#damian wayne#jai west#jon kent#colin wilkes#superboy#robin#abuse dc#martha kent#ma kent#jonathan kent#pa kent#ra’s al ghul#wally west
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What Jungkook is like in a relationship/ Jungkook as a boyfriend Tarot reading
I was gonna put Jin up first but I finished Jungkook quicker so oops but I’m finally back after 200 years of adulting things
1. How long does it take Jungkook to get into a relationship? 8 of pentacles, 2 of cups, the world Do he prefer long or short term relationships 7 of swords, ace of wands Nelys the alchemist 27 reversed, 5 of swords, 9 of cups reversed
For an actual relationship and not just dating I think he can take a while if not a long ass time because he’s too much of a perfectionist and will work hard at making sure everything is right before getting into a relationship. I don't know why I’m getting like before things would get “steamy” he would never let them see his body until he worked out enough for his own standards like everything has to be perfected and mastered beforehand. There’s also a reoccurring theme of work getting in the way and even in the beginning stages it’s like he meets up with them does whatever then has to hurry and run back to work and is like “hey I gotta go but I’ll text you later” type of shit. Big focus mostly on career though so it’s hard to tell. But I still think he’s not just sleeping around with just anyone I mean they have to be important if the 2 of cups pops up. I don’t think he’ll get into an actual relationship with someone unless there’s a strong connection. Or at least to him it seems like an important connection.
I gotta say too that the 7 of swords usually screams fuckboi to me but in this case I think the lying and trickery aspect of the card can be taken literally to mean of course he has to lie and sneak around when fans would legit doxx and slit his partners throat if they knew they were together. But anyway in a relationship there’s definitely gonna be extremely strong sexual chemistry I don’t know why this keeps popping up but alright. But one annoying thing is that in a relationship jungkook seems to like fighting in a way. He doesn’t like to lose to anything and will want to win an argument even if it’s petty. There’s also a kind of energy of the other person feeling inadequate sometimes with how much praise he gets from the entire world. It makes the other person feel as exposed since they’re not doing as “well” in the grand scheme of things. And will sometimes not want to compliment him on things because he gets compliments from the entire world this is just day to day petty shit. Another thing is getting into a relationship thinking this person is the one but then realizing over time and all the work you put in was useless cause this is emotionally unfulfilling.
2. Past and present love life king of pentacles, wheel of fortune reversed, queen of pentacles
Past: bruh his love life in the past is similar to the present. He was mostly focused on building his own career and wealth and love was on the back burner tbh. I think since he has huge goals for himself there was really no time to even do other things. But his love life right now seems like it’s a external long term problem affecting it. And I think he’s learning how to balance his love life and work life right now and just letting things happen and trying to take care of his body and mind.
3. What is he like in a relationship Tobaira of the waters 37 reversed, The glanconer 62 reversed, mother of dawn, knight of pentacles, flashover 11, 6 of swords reversed, addiction 11, envious gluttony 9, is this me? 4
When Jungkook is in a relationship he doesn’t fully feel like he can be emotionally vulnerable and instead will act mischievous and play around to hide behind vulnerability. It can tend to make the other person mad because they never know when he’ll actually be serious because he plays too much sometimes. There’s also playing up to peoples ideas of him. It’s not outwardly tricking people but allowing them to believe what they want and project their fantasies on him. It’s like a weird energy of wanting to rebel but also you feel stuck and want to please them so you don’t let them down. I think he overthinks legit everything and makes things a bigger deal in his mind than what it really is.
Another thing is he could have a tendency to stay with someone even if it’s toxic because of a mix of remembering the good times and also insecurities. There are big vibes of being emotionally stunted like I feel that he’s mentally a teenager still and even though he’s physically different and projects something different. When he’s in a relationship; he still feels like that insecure kid in his head and he can’t escape it. It’s like a false bravado thing going on. There’s a hole that leads to darkness and from that another one that leads to even more darkness. That's dramatic but that’s what it’s like for him. It’s like this emotionally starved monster in his head but in reality the monster is this scrawny young boy who wants to let go and open up but is blocked by himself and running away from his shadow aspects. I do see him though slowly moving towards becoming more open, honest allowing his vulnerable and passionate side out in a healthier way but it might take a while (unless he’s already been working on this) since the knight of pentacles is the slowest knight but he’s also the most stable and loyal.
4. What is his "type" the sage 19 reversed, knight of cups reversed, Jeanne the maid, golden empress, the lovers reversed, 3 of cups reversed
His ideal type is someone who can come across as aloof, cold, excessively critical. Hey I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt but when I pulled a clarifier I got the knight of cups reversed lolll. Dude likes toxic people apparently. On the surface they might look “normal” but on the inside their inner world is overflowing and they have an abundance of charisma and sexual energy. Honestly that could be a big reason why he likes that. There’s a big dualistic energy in them and appearing the best on surface level but underneath is really unpredictable and has the energy of unrequited love. I think he likes those types of people who don’t fawn over him like he’s the second coming of Jesus tbh. This person doesn’t give 2 fucks and they don’t tell everything up front they’re mysterious and it’s more of a challenge for him. They’re really good at appearing humble and maybe innocent even but that’s just because they know how to woo people really. They’re confident and can convince people of almost anything especially around those in power they know how to present their best self to get what they want.
At first I was confused why your ideal type would be someone that seems manipulative af but it makes sense when Jungkook has a lot of deep dark shit he needs to work on from the other cards. I think it’s a big codependency thing and excitement that someone toxic can bring also the fact that this person is down for anything in the bedroom they’re not ashamed or shy about it. His idea of love is pretty distorted he thinks he needs someone who is as intense as he is but really it would be a bad combination especially with the lovers reversed. I’m getting especially that as long as he keeps going after these types of people, he’s never going to be with his “true love” for a lack of a better term. Basically not be with someone who is actually good for him. There could be third party bs but I’m getting more of an overindulged and addiction energy between both of them. Even if he knows they’re no good it’s just so intoxicating it’s like a damn drug to him and it feeds into his more animalistic side (I have no idea how to articulate this lmao) it’s like possessive nature. This reminds me a lot of the attachment types since there’s a lot of people like this who love a more avoidant person and I feel that Jungkook is probably avoidant himself so this is like home sweet home to him. It puts him in the cat chasing mouse position instead of the other way around. That emotionally unavailable energy is very appealing to a lot of people I guess especially when you’re used to everyone bending over backwards for you.
5. What is his love language: Ta’Om the poet 29 reversed, the bodacious Bodach 59 reversed
He likes when someone actually does helpful things for him that is useful and not like the annoying meddling energy of just doing stuff for him that he doesn’t want you to do. He also does this for others. So acts of service mostly but you already knew that.
#kpop tarot#bts tarot#bts jungkook#bts#kpop readings#kpop#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jeon jeongguk#free tarot#kpop predictions#kpop astrology#bts astrology#bts readings#kpop tarot reading#tarot#bangtan#bts tarot reading#tarot cards#tarot reading#bts boyfriend#free tarot readings#oracle cards
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i made a fairytale au for cam and luther and then wrote nearly 5k words of fic for it?? which is wild bc i am not much of a writer. but. that’s under the cut. content warning for a pretty violent scene towards the end but there’s a happy ending i prommy
Once upon a time, there lived a prince. This prince, Luther by name, lived in a kingdom that was plagued by monsters. His father, the king, had gained his throne by feats of heroism, most notably by slaying a fearsome dragon that had ruled the land for years. The time came for Luther to prove he was worthy of the title of prince by slaying a monster of his own…
Down in the countryside, farmers have been complaining for weeks of an ogre stealing their cattle and frightening their children. So Luther sets off in a splendid suit of armor, with a sword sheathed on one hip, a quiver of arrows on the other, and his bow slung on his back.
Luther rides his horse down to the village where the ogre was last spotted. He talks with the locals and gets a description of the creature. At least forty feet tall, they say, with greenish-grey skin and dark hair and teeth the length of a man’s forearm. Luther leaves his horse behind with the farmers because he doesn’t want her getting hurt and marches off, following a set of giant footprints left behind by the ogre, sword in hand. He would have to admit that he isn’t the best at sword fighting, and that really he’s never faced a monster on his own. But his father gave him a crucial tip: every monster has a weak point. Find the weak point, exploit it, and you’ll win every time.
The footprints lead through the plains of grass, past the area where the farmers let their cattle out to graze, and into a dark forest. The sun is going down before he manages to find the ogre, so he sets up a little camp with a little fire and rests his tired bones. His armor isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it takes forever to get on and off even with someone helping him, let alone by himself. He sits with his back to a big boulder so nothing can sneak up behind him and eventually drifts off.
Luther awakens the next morning and groans at how stiff and sore he is. He sits up and pauses, brow furrowed, remembering that he’d gone to bed sitting upright. But just now, he’d been lying on his back. And he’s not the best tracker, but those giant footprints look… disconcertingly fresh. These things add up in his mind. He just about passes out. He crouches down and puts his head between his knees for a moment until he can breathe again and his heart stops pounding quite so hard. He was right next to it! He fell asleep leaning on it! If his father heard about this he’d give him such a beating. How could he not have noticed that the boulder was actually -
His stomach rumbles, interrupting his panicked thoughts, and Luther remembers that the last time he ate was back in that farming village around two in the afternoon yesterday. He digs out a bit of beef jerky and morosely works at it. His father swears by the stuff, but it just makes his teeth hurt. Luther dreams of the kitchens back home and drools a little.
He gives up on the jerky and manages to take down a couple squirrels with his bow and arrows. He gets his fire blazing again and sets them cooking over it, and sits down to draw in the dirt and form a battle plan. He gets wrapped up in his drawing and loses track of time, but is startled violently back to reality as a deep booming voice from behind him says, “Your squirrel’s burning.”
Luther’s eyes snap up to the fire. He hastily pulls the stick with his squirrels off of it, waving it in the air to put out the bit of squirrel that had caught fire. He blows on it and inspects the damage. Not too bad, a little charred. Still definitely edible. Then realization dawns, and he slowly looks up and over his shoulder.
That’s the ogre. He’s unmistakable. Huge, greyish-green, with shaggy black hair and big tusks that jut out of his mouth. He’s down on one knee looming over Luther, modesty barely preserved by a loincloth stitched together out of the pelts of many different furry animals. Luther wills himself to not faint for the second time that day.
“You gonna eat that?” The ogre booms. “’Cause I will if you won’t.”
“W-well, yes, I was planning to,” Luther quavers, “But there are two, so, um, you can have one if you want? We can share?”
He takes the non-burned squirrel off the stick and holds it up. His hand only shakes a little. The ogre takes it carefully between thumb and forefinger and tosses it in his mouth. With such a tiny morsel, he’d usually just swallow it whole, but an interesting flavor makes him stop and savor it for a moment.
“What’d you do to it? Not like any squirrel I’ve eaten. And I’ve eaten a whole army of squirrels.” He slaps a hand on his formidable belly. The sound makes Luther jump.
“I- I didn’t do much, j-just some seasoning, I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, please don’t eat me next."
"You?” The ogre laughs. “Why would I eat you? You shared your food with me. That’s mighty polite. I’d say that makes us friends now, and I don’t eat friends.” He grunts as he shifts position, sitting down heavily and stretching out his legs. “Bad knees,” he grumbles. “Sat like that too long, but I wanted to see what you were drawing."
Luther is now horrifically aware that he is directly between the ogre’s legs. He is also horrifically aware that he was drawing himself hitting an ogre with a sword. He hurriedly kicks some dirt over it.
"Nothing. Nothing interesting. I’m a bad artist anyway.”
“Sure. What’s your name, little tin man? You didn’t seem too talkative when you snuggled up to me last night, but I thought maybe you were just tired. I’m Cam."
"L-Luther.” Oh god. He was supposed to kill this thing, it - well, no, not ‘it’, he can’t think of Cam as an ‘it’ now he knows his name - he’s terrorizing folks, stealing their livelihoods, he’s supposed to drive him away, save the day, bring peace to the kingdom. Instead he’s sharing his meager breakfast and making friends with the monster. How did it all go so wrong!!
“So, Luther, you made of metal? I thought you were gonna take all that off, looks pretty uncomfortable, but you wore it all night. Unless it’s like… you?"
"No, no, um, it’s just… it takes a long time to put it on and take it off? And I usually need help.”
"Well shoot, friend, why didn’t you say so?“ Before Luther can object, a giant hand descends and plucks him up. He panics, struggles in Cam’s grasp, and Cam tsks at him. "I can’t get all that off you if you don’t hold still. Don’t make me squeeze."
Luther goes still. If Cam squeezes the armor, it’ll stay squeezed. He wouldn’t want to still be in it if that happens. Cam clearly has no idea how to get someone out of armor though. He just pulls at clasps and buckles till they break, then shucks the metal off of Luther like an ear of corn. His helmet comes off first, freeing his dark brown curls.
“Aww,” Cam says, “lookit you. You’re kinda cute for a tin man.” He musses up Luther’s hair with a fingertip. "You’re like a little crab,” Cam chuckles. “Crack open the hard shell to get to the soft stuff underneath.” The food metaphor does not put Luther any more at ease as the rest of his armor is pulled off and tossed aside, piece by piece. Cam even strips the chainmail off of him and dumps it on the ground. This leaves Luther in his shirt and breeches, shaking like a leaf and terrified for his life.
“Oh, you cold? Here, I gotcha.” Cam sandwiches him between his hands. Luther awaits the pressure and the horrible crunch that will no doubt be the end of his short life, but it never comes. Cam just holds him there, and truth be told his hands are very warm, and it had been a chilly morning. Luther relaxes very slightly.
After a few minutes, Cam lifts one hand a little and peeks at Luther. “Better?"
"Much better, thank you. Even a little too warm, actually? Can I, um, come out now?"
Cam laughs and opens his hands like a book, then tilts them so Luther tumbles into the palm of his left hand. "So what’s a fancy little shrimp like you doing all the way out here, with that tough shell and those sharp weapons? You huntin’ something?"
Luther hesitates. It’s not… technically a lie, just an omission of truth, right? "Yeees…. Hunting.”
Cam laughs out loud, leaning back and slapping his knee with his free hand. “HA! You are just about the worst liar I ever met, Luther. Whew.” He actually wipes a tear from his eye. Luther feels his face heating up with anger and embarrassment.
“I am hunting! I’m hunting you!” As soon as he says it he regrets it. He slaps his hands over his mouth and cowers back as Cam sits up straight again and looks down at him, raising an eyebrow.
“That so? Huh. Well, you found me, oh mighty hunter. And you fed me, and let me take your armor off you, and left all your sharp things on the ground while you sit in the palm of my hand. So, uh… how’s that goin’ for ya?”
“It… I… um… please don’t kill me?”
Cam grins. It’s not a nice grin anymore. It shows off too many teeth. “Lotsa folks have hunted me, you know. Not a one has succeeded. Most of ‘em can’t find me in the first place, not unless I want them to. Neat little trick we ogres have. We blend in well. The ones who did find me, they regretted it pretty quick. When I heard you clanking along with your silly armor and your little sword, I thought oh boy, here comes another one. But it turns out this one couldn’t find his own ass with both hands and a map, so he ain’t one of them legendary monster hunters lookin’ to claim some bounty. And he’s a little scrawny slip of a thing, too, and he keeps stopping to look at birds. I kinda liked you. And honestly, when you found me, it took me by surprise. Thought I had you pegged all wrong. Then you made your little fire, curled up next to me, and went to sleep, and it took everything I had not to bust my gut laughing right then and there. And now… well, I don’t rightly know what to make of you. Cute little thing, I know that. But cute won’t save you if you wanna tussle with me. So, little hunter… what’re you gonna do now?”
Luther’s nearly in tears. He manages to say, “Then… were you just… toying with me? This whole time? Waiting to see what I’d do?"
Cam shrugs. "Pretty much.” That does it. The waterworks are in full swing. Luther’s chin trembles, his lower lip wobbles, and then tears are streaming down his face and he’s sobbing.
“Y- you’re s-so-ho meeeaaaan,” Luther wails. “Y-you’re j-just making f-fun of me, I thought w-we were friends!”
Cam has absolutely no idea how to respond to this. For some reason he actually feels guilty. “Aw - no - now look, there’s no call for - just… just stop crying, okay? Please?” Luther continues to sob, heedless of Cam’s pleading. “There, there,” Cam tries, patting Luther’s head. “I’m not going to kill you. Okay? How’s that? I’m sorry I called you - well. All those things. I’m sure you’re a great hunter. Look, you got those squirrels. And hey! That one I ate tasted great. You got some real skill there."
Luther wipes his eyes and looks up, teetering dangerously on the edge of another sobbing fit. His eyes are all watery and a little red-rimmed. "R-really?"
"Yes! Of course!” Cam clings to the compliment like a life preserver. “I bet you’re like, like the king’s cook or something, right? Cause you’re the best in the land?"
Luther’s face crumples a little and he looks down, mutters something.
"What?” Cam holds him up a little closer to his ear.
“’m his son,” Luther mumbles again.
“His son? You’re a prince? And you’re all - oh, hell.” Now he’s really put his foot in it. Luther bursts into tears again and curls up in a little ball.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I - oh, ugh, you’re getting my hand all wet.” Cam picks him up between thumb and forefinger and shakes the little tear droplets off his palm. “Now look here,” he says, attempting a sterner approach. “You’re a prince, all right? You can’t be crying and going to pieces just ‘cause some big bad monster was mean to you. You gotta kill big bad monsters, right? So here’s what you’re gonna do.” Cam sets him down gently, picks up his sword and hands it to him. “There you go. You’re gonna take that sword, right, and you’re gonna really let me have it. That’ll make you feel better, won’t it?“
Luther purses his lips and looks up at him. "But… all I can hit from here is your foot. That’s no good. I need a shot at something vital."
"Oh fine, fine, Mr. Picky,” Cam grumbles. He shuffles his legs to the side and leans down til he’s practically laying on his belly. “Face shot. Free one for ya. Go on, hit something good.” Luther considers. Just as Cam realizes how ridiculous this whole thing is, he draws his sword back and plunges it into Cam’s eye.
- Almost plunges it into Cam’s eye. The ogre moves suddenly, turning his head to the side to avoid the blow. Luther makes a deep gash in Cam’s cheek, and Cam roars. “Oh, you sly little shit. Very good, very sneaky. You almost had me there. Fine. We do this the hard way.”
He gets to his feet, draws himself up to his full, impressive height, and looks down at the dirt where Luther was a moment ago. Cam blinks in surprise. “Where’d you… goddammit…” He looks around, trying to catch a glimpse of where Luther could’ve gotten to.
Luther was not about to let the golden opportunity to run and hide during a big dramatic show of power go to waste. He slides into a patch of underbrush, catches his breath, and takes stock. He has no armor, no food, no bow or arrows. Those are all back at his camp, which is currently ogre territory. He has one sword that he’s okay at using. The ogre has the homefield advantage, and some kind of ability, possibly magical, to hide himself from those who want to find him. Luther shouldn’t let him out of his sight. But he should work on camouflaging himself. He takes a handful of dirt and smears it on his face and shirt. The sword he can’t do much about, he’ll just have to try and keep it from glinting. He glances to his left, away from where Cam still stands, turning in circles and peering around. Luther had only gone a little ways into the woods before he stopped for camp last night. He can almost see the forest’s edge from here. He could dart for the grasslands and try to make it back to the village, but he’d be in plain sight as soon as he’s out of the trees and there’s no guarantee Cam won’t just follow him all the way back. The further he goes into the trees the more firmly he is in Cam’s territory, but the more coverage he has.
Possibilities begin swirling around in his head. His best bet is trickery rather than a face to face confrontation. He’s got a running list in his mind of Cam’s weak points now. Food, monologuing, emotional outbursts. Although that last one’s probably off the table now. Bursting into tears isn’t going to get him out of a second pinch. Bad knees - if he can trip Cam up, he can get a shot at his face again, maybe cut his throat or get at his soft belly and sides. Cam’s a talker and likes to gloat, maybe if he gets him distracted by looking pathetic he could get him to walk right into a trap of some kind. He likes food… but Luther doesn’t have the resources to make a big feast to distract him or sate him, just a pouchful of seasoning that he never leaves home without. His lip wobbles again as he thinks about how that’s back at his camp… he may never see his precious seasonings again.
Meanwhile, Cam is getting frustrated. “Well, the little shit can’t have gone far,” he grumbles. “Just gotta flush 'im out.” Luther watches, petrified, as Cam lumbers over to a nearby patch of underbrush and without warning stomps down on it hard, twisting his foot and smashing every inch of it. He steps back and leans down to inspect what’s left. Luther bites his lip hard to stifle a whimper.
“Nope, not there,” Cam announces. “Eeney, meeney, miney…..” Another bunch of bushes are mercilessly ground into the dirt. “Moe. Hmmm. Where are you?”
Luther can’t stay in his hiding place for long. It’s only a matter of time before Cam gets to him. He needs an opening to make a break for it though, if he runs now Cam will spot him right away. As slowly as he dares, he picks up a large, flat rock, then skims it like a frisbee off to his right, where it hits a tree with a satisfying thock. Cam whirls around, and Luther bolts out of the brush. Cam hears the leaves rustling and turns back around, catching sight of him as he flees.
“There you are! Hold on now, don’t go running off! I just wanna talk, I swear. The whole monster-slaying prince thing not working out for ya? I got a better job offer! You can be my dinner!” Luther keeps sprinting as fast as he can, not even bothering to glance behind him. The last thing he needs is to miss a fallen branch or a groundhog hole and trip.
On flat, open land, the ogre would outpace him easily. But if he can get deeper into the forest where the trees are closer together, that could slow him down enough for Luther to get some distance and hide again, have a moment to breathe and think so he can work on his plan. He’s starting to get an idea of what he’ll need. He needs the element of surprise for sure, and he needs more than just his sword. If he had some rope he could set up a tripwire, maybe. He curses himself for not taking his father’s advice about packing, for letting Cam strip him, for being too weak and scared to do anything when he had the chance, for being born in the first place. His eyes well up with tears and he scrubs at them furiously. He can’t afford to have his sight blurred right now, he needs to keep his head clear and keep moving. He can hear Cam’s thudding footsteps behind him, gaining quickly. He can cover so much more ground in a single step. It’s simply not fair. The little bit of distance he was able to gain with his rock trick is disappearing fast and it won’t be long before he’s in arm’s reach.
Almost as if he can read his thoughts, Cam lunges forward and takes a swipe at him, trying to knock him off his feet. Luther hits the deck and Cam overbalances, stumbling and crashing into a tree. The tree snaps when his weight collides with it, and Cam has to windmill his arms to keep from falling over. Luther scrambles to his feet and keeps running. He even manages to put on an extra burst of speed when he hears Cam roar with frustration behind him. He’s not as fast as he could be because he’s lugging the sword along with him, but he doesn’t dare drop it. It proves its usefulness in the next minute. Cam closes the distance and grabs for him. Luther sees the shadow fall over him and whirls around, lashing out at the reaching hand. He slices across Cam’s palm, and Cam howls with pain and pulls back. Luther dashes away, and Cam stomps his foot in frustration.
"Hold still, dammit! You’re just making it worse for yourself!” He takes off after Luther again, but his stamina’s flagging. It’s harder for a creature his size to haul himself around and he’s used to running down his prey in the first minutes of the chase. This has dragged on long enough to tire him out, but he’s not willing to give up just yet. “When I get my hands on you, tin man, you’re paste,” he growls. “They’re gonna have to come up with new words for how dead you’re gonna be.”
The trees start getting close enough together that Luther has to dodge around them from time to time. He can hear Cam behind him crashing through them, spluttering as he gets a face full of branches and leaves. Luther smiles to himself. That’s nice, at least. At last he gathers up his nerve and dodges to the side behind a particularly large tree, hoping that Cam’s too busy navigating the foliage to notice. His gamble pays off. A few seconds later, the ogre goes lumbering past him without so much as a sideways glance. Luther waits just a moment more, then bolts in the opposite direction.
He’s got a plan now. He probably won’t be able to find Cam again, but Cam can find him. So he’ll set up an ambush. He circles back around to his camp and grabs his supplies as quickly as he can, his bow and arrow, his helmet, his tinderbox, and most importantly, his seasoning. He hunts for deer, takes down a decent-sized buck, and sets up a new campfire, deep in the woods, where the trees are close. He’s hoping that Cam will think that Luther thinks he’s safe in there, and that the smell of the meat cooking will lure Cam in. He takes off his shirt and fills it with twigs and leaves, sets his helmet up on a stick driven into the ground, and makes a decently convincing decoy Luther that he leans against a log. The helmet tilts at an angle that makes it look like he’s fallen asleep. With that set up, and night closing in, Luther climbs up a nearby tree and waits, sword in hand.
He doesn’t watch the fire. He wants to keep his night vision sharp. And sure enough, before too long here comes Cam, moving surprisingly quietly for his size. He squeezes through the trees with barely a rustling of leaves. Cam’s eyes are fixed on the fire and the silhouette that the decoy makes against it. Cam gets right behind the decoy and slams his foot down on it. He grinds it into the dirt with a relish that makes Luther shudder. Then Cam looks at the deer cooking with that lovely smell rising off it, and his eyes go big and shiny. As Cam bends down to pick it up, Luther chooses his moment. He drops like a stone and buries his sword lengthwise in the back of Cam’s neck. The impact sends a jolt up his arms and he hangs on as tight as he can. Cam lets out a garbled scream of pain and collapses face first on the ground. Luther gets to his feet, pulls his sword out with some difficulty, takes a deep breath, and begins to chop.
It’s messy, horrible work. By the third swing tears are rolling down Luther’s cheeks. By the seventh, he’s sobbing. After the twenty-third cut, Cam’s head is finally severed, and rolls to the side. Luther stumbles back. He’s trembling, covered in blood, panting and crying, but it’s finally done.
And then Cam’s head says, “Wow, kid. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Luther watches, dumbfounded, as Cam’s body sits up, searches around with its hands, locates his head, and puts it back on his shoulders as the flesh knits together again. Luther drops his sword in disbelief. He falls to his knees. That was it. That was all he had. He can’t even imagine what he could do against a foe who can just reattach his own head.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “Okay. Um. Make it quick, please?” Cam had been planning to crunch the little shit once he was back on his feet, but he can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at how despondent Luther looks.
“Aw, no, no, don’t give up so quick! Really, you almost had me!” Cam scoops him up and pats him on the head. “Look, it was a good effort. I’m sure if you had known I can’t be killed, you wouldn’t have spent all that time and energy trying to kill me. Just do a little more research next time, yeah?"
"Next time,” Luther repeats, and gives a hollow laugh. “There isn’t going to be a next time. I’m not welcome as part of the royal family if I can’t kill a monster. Even my sister’s done her first slaying already. A whole nest of vampires! And I can’t kill one measly ogre."
"Hey, watch who you’re calling measly,” Cam warns, but his heart isn’t in it. “Jeez. You’ve got some issues, kid. Not much of a fighter, I take it?"
Luther shakes his head and sighs. "I’m just not very good at it."
"Well they chose one hell of a first mission for you, that’s for sure. Ogres are tricky ones. We’ve got a lot of defense mechanisms.” Cam thinks for a moment. “You know what you are good at, though? You’re a good talker. Very convincing. I mean, you really had me going, with the crying and all? It was a really good ruse."
Luther bites his lip. "Um…"
"Okay, so it was for real and not a ruse. But you made the best of a bad situation! That’s also a good skill for a ruler to have. You just gotta show your family that your skills are less conventional, but still effective! Like, okay, why do you have to kill me? What’d I do?"
“You’re eating all the farmers’ cattle and scaring people."
"I thought free range meant I had free reign. Eh? Eh?” Cam pokes Luther in the ribs. Luther frowns at him. “Oh, fine, whatever. No sense of humor. You know, that’s pretty important for a king too. Yeah, all right, I’ll leave the cows alone."
"And the sheep,” Luther says sharply. “And the pigs, and chickens."
"I haven’t eaten any pigs or chickens,” Cam protests.
“Not yet. I’m being proactive."
"There you go!” Cam says, beaming. “There’s that negotiator skill! But seriously, if I can’t eat the cows and sheep I’ve got to eat something. Can you make it worth my while? 'Cause I’m not going back to squirrels."
"Well…” Luther says slowly. “What if… I hire you?"
"You… hire me?"
"Yeah. Like, as a bodyguard or something. Then I’d have to pay you, right? I could pay you in food?”
Cam is quiet for a moment. He brings Luther up closer to his face and scrutinizes him. Luther’s heart is pounding out of his chest. For a moment he thinks he’s made some horrible mistake and offended Cam and it’s all over for him. "You’re serious? Not kidding me, here? That’s your offer?”
“Y-yes? Is that… is it bad?"
"Bad? Bad? That’s the best offer I’ve ever heard! Pay me in food? HELL yes, kid! That’s what I like to hear!” The force of Cam’s enthusiasm knocks Luther over on his back. He stares at the sky for a moment. His life is so goddamn weird.
~~~~~~~~~
Luther’s father’s dragon slaying days are behind him. He’s an old man now. He has good days and bad days, but even on his best days he frequently needs help getting around. But when he sees that giant ogre enter his royal halls, he reaches for his spear. Luther eases it out of his hand.
“No, see, it’s okay. I didn’t kill him, but I stopped him terrorizing the countryside, and I kind of… hired him. As my bodyguard. This was easier, and we both benefit, see? Also, um, were you going to tell me ogres are immortal?"
"You were supposed to figure something out,” his father says. “Since you’re so damned smart."
"Well, I did figure something out. Just… maybe not what you wanted me to."
Cam waves lazily. "Hi, Yer Majesty."
"Cam,” Luther hisses. “We talked about this."
"Oh, fine, fine,” Cam grumbles, and takes a knee to bow low before the king. “I humbly pledge my service to your son,” he intones, hamming it up just a little. “Please allow me to protect him from all harms, and so on."
The king glares. His stabbing hand is itching. But he doesn’t currently have a better plan, and this’ll keep the peasants quiet for a bit. "Fine,” he spits, “But you’re taking care of him. Feeding him, walking him, cleaning up after him, whatever. No getting the servants to do it for you. He’s your responsibility now."
Cam grins at Luther. "So, speaking of feeding… when’s dinner?”
#art#writing#giant tiny#g/t#cam and luther#fairy tale au#to be more specific re: content warnings there is a beheading but he gets better so it's okay#tiny knights are very important to me as u can clearly see#there's just something about. someone who is sworn to protect others going up against a force so much larger than themselves#EDIT mobile hates readmores sorry if u get a three mile long post on yr dash :(
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How many Hollow Knight OCs do you have by now? Probably want to know more about them!
Oh sweet jesus. So here we go. That's a question. By the way, my Hollow Knight blog is @hallowcactus
Mayflies:
Hex and Vox (The twins, very soft. Hex is baby and Vox is salty)
Mox and Lin (Parents to the twins. Deceased in every AU.)
Lex (Lovely maroon lady who can kick some serious ass. Actually boxes in Modern AU. Climbed her way into society’s elite in GNM out of SPITE. Mel is her husband.)
Mel (Meek architect man. Scrawny as hell. Loves his wife. Do what is morally best.. always.)
Elder Yuu (Head of the Mayfly tribe. Salty old crone. Hates outsiders. but she’s a decent person somewhere under those wrinkles.)
Dragonflies:
Daze (Asshole extraordinaire and my most active character. Honestly, a spicy boi who just has a habit of making others swoon.)
Maylin (Daze's mother; absolute sweetheart but hell hath no fury like May. Powerful shaman, has direct ties to the goddess Nanu. Is the Queen of the Serpentfire dragonflies.)
Daz (Daze's father; soft spoken man with a hellish temper. Big man. Heavily armor plated, has two sets of antennas. One on his brows and another on his snooter.)
Niles (cousin to Daze. Plays guitar. Is like the awkward little sibling. He’s like a bard with no real charisma. Emulates what Daze was like as a teenager because he thought Daze was cool; Daze cringes at that but loves Niles anyway because he’s baby.)
Daze's aunt and uncle to be named
Tika (random golden colored guard who I love)
Marie (White dragonfly who runs the temple dungeon in GNM)
Damselflies:
Ysmay (the massive scary bitch. Daze is actually terrified of her. For good reason. She doesn’t use weapons because she doesn’t need it.)
Mantises:
Vernon (Devil's flower mantis and the new Lord of the Garden mantis tribe)
Armen (Ghost mantis Angy old fart who somehow got a redemption arc and it's @inkbarista fault)
Neferis (original Traitor Lord)
Zeus (Another large mantis who took over for the Traitor Lord)
Greta (med student/midwife/anxious)
Nana (Elder mantis woman. Everyone’s grandma. Midwife. Medical professional for the tribe, makes herbal remedies, teas, and is an excellent cook. Beware, she will squish your cheeks. She’s Vinny’s favorite lol)
Naloo (one bad ass bitch)
Rolan (Sweet awkward boy)
Lotus (a petra who Vinny;s character impromptu adopted)
Almond (Just another baby with a need for mischief. Adopted with Lotus)
A dragon mantis I have no idea what to do with yet but I will figure it out.
Soul Santum:
Shanen (soul master)
Moths:
Minerva (Big buff atlas moth Bimbo that's like everyone's favorite character lol)
Olivia (Council lady who helps run the moth tribe in GNM)
Ivan (Actual dickwad. One of them infuriating folks but doesn't do anything bad enough to get into real trouble but sometimes you wish he would just to put him behind bars.)
Minerva's parents that I have not named yet. Very conservative, stuck in their ways, hoity toity rich folks with unbelievably high expectations.
Spiders:
Sirenne (Siren Orchid crab spider)
Heart, Spade, Clover, and Diamond (Take a wild guess what these little bastards do? Peacock jumping spiders. Cause trouble for Hornet and run a casino.)
Rex (A jumping spider with anxiety in Modern AU and a failed assassin jackass in GNM)
Centipedes:
Chu'mana (centipede centaur massive lady, is Angy will bite. Pride is a personality. I have trouble drawing her lol. Adopted from Inkbarista)
Vessels:
Vala (b... Big- carries a massive cleaver like the one Death Sword uses in Zelda Twilight Princess. Adopted from Inkbarista.)
Mora (Blueberry baby.)
Chimeras:
Mara (Mix between Hallow, Trill, and Hex. Is their sweet little girl who grows up with Wisp. @inkbarista
Lotan (Silk/Daze's kid in Modern Au and GNM. ANGY. Will bite. Bites everything. Kin has lost 7 pairs of glasses to this little monster. He's deceivingly adorable.)
Misc:
Nanu (Axolotl jesus. Massive goddess to the Serpentfire tribe of dragonflies, gave them and the damselflies their draconic traits. Eight eyes. Cryptic as hell because lets be real, she’s a goddess and that just how it be sometimes. Literally gifts her teeth to the tribe and worthy visitors to use as climbing tools and weapons.)
Void parasite
Fluke but it's a glow worm
Phantom/Phaalgun (pronounced Full-gahn. He's a Megastick. Massive stick bug. Eerily cryptic. Very scary. Works in dealing death.)
Egon (Colossal beetle who's a bitch, runs a crime ring in the City of Tears in GNM)
Mala (Grounds keeper for the Greenpath memorial in GNM)
A random ass butterfly I have no real information about other than knowing she’s anxiety incarnate and exists
Pia (Pleotomus firefly. French?? Done with everyone's shit.)
Val/Valentine. (Velvet Ant boy. Flamboyant to the fucking max, ain't afraid to shank a bitch.)
I THINK I GOT EVERYONE. I THINK. According to @abhainn-leth That’s 49 (updated!) 54 characters and I’m inclined to believe them because I do not feel like counting. If I missed any, I will be sure to add them later. I have artwork for like, a quarter of these characters lol. But if you wanna ask about specific ones, I’ll be happy to oblige with pictures if I have them and some more information lol.
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It had to happen! Finally, a story about Geralt and Eskel cause I couldn’t resist any longer. It’s not a fluffy one like the previous two but there’s still some hurt/comfort. It’s set when Geralt and Eskel are still baby Witchers in training.
Tumblr is being an ass about formating so you can find this on AO3
Wordcount is at 2,400
Charaters: Eskel, Geralt, Vesemir, Rennes
Tags: Eskel/Geralt, Angst, Improper use of Axii, Mind control, Hurt/Confort, Baby Witchers
Fear
"Master Rennes! Master Vesemir!" The boy yells from the door he's thrown open carelessly.
"What are you doing boy!" Rennes barks at the scrawny kid.
"Apologies Masters," the boy says, breathless.
"What is it!"
"It's Eskel Sir. He's gone mad! He's going to burn the keep down!"
"Where the hell is he?" Vesemir shouts at the poor frightened teenager.
"Down the training yard Master! Please, Sir, we don't know what to do! Geralt's down there too!"
The two older Witchers set off sprinting to the courtyard three levels bellow, following the boy. It takes only a few minutes to reach the yard but they can hear some of the kids yell even from the corridor. Most of them are watching from higher ground, from windows or the ramparts bordering the training yard. Vesemir can smell their fear and confusion even before he sees them. Three boys are closer to the action, right on the platform that overlooks the courtyard and are yelling in delight every time Eskel cast his Signs. Those three don’t smell like fear. One of them spots Rennes coming at them from the corridor at full speed and bolt down the stairs, disappearing around a corner. The other two are not so quick and the Witcher catches one by the arm and the other by the back of the neck before they have time to escape.
Down bellow Eskel sends an Aard towards Geralt powerful enough to take down the dummies right were Geralt was standing and part of the wall behind him. Luckily everyone at the top of the rampart has time to skater before the wall goes out from under them.
"Eskel it's me Geralt, stop!"
Eskel snarls and sends a wave of fire at Geralt, who has run under the little balcony at the top of the stairs. He barely manages to jump to one side, his arm reddening painfully when he's not quick enough to avoid all of the flames. Rennes throws himself and both the kids down when the flames come licking at the top of the platform, the air so hot they can barely breathe. Vesemir yanks both the kids back to the entrance of the corridor as fast as he can. Another Aard takes down half the stairs on the right side of the courtyard, they can even feel the shockwave from their hiding place. Nobody else but Geralt has the courage to come down and help calm Eskel.
"What is going on here?" Rennes ask in a tone that clearly mean they both are going to get flogged very very soon if they test his patience.
"It wasn't us Master, we swear!
"It was Marcus' idea!"
They both answer at the same time.
"What the hell did you do to that boy?" Rennes snarls, pointing vaguely towards the training ground right outside.
"We just wanted to have a bit of fun. We didn't think he would go mad like this, honest Sir!"
The boys look at each other for a second before casting their eyes downward, looking shamefully at their boots.
“Explain yourselves!”
"Eskel never gets into real trouble cause all the trainers like him even though he does lots of stupid stuff with Geralt all the time, so we just wanted to get them in a little bit of bother. That’s all. We can't really touch Geralt cause he's special or something. But not Eskel. And Marcus he's pretty good with signs and stuff..."
"It was just for fun Master. To teach them a lesson cause they aren't great like everybody thinks they are! They're just orphans like the rest of us!"
Down on the courtyard, another dummy gets torn into splinters of woods and straw goes flying everywhere.
"For fuck sake Eskel! Stop, you muttonhead!" they hear Geralt yell.
"Out with it boy or I'll flog you myself!" Rennes snaps, baring his teeth dangerously at the teenagers.
"We didn't know he would go crazy! We wanted him to get frightened a little so we used Axii on him!"
"You did what?" Vesemir finally says, cold fury in his voice.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to cast Axii on a person before you are ready?"
"We didn’t mean to do him harm, it was just for fun!"
"You broke one of the most fundamental rules of the school just to have a bit of fun? I should just throw you down there and let Eskel burn you alive!"
Their eyes go big, not knowing if Rennes would really do it. The leader of the Wolfs has never been soft on anybody.
Outside, Geralt is just running in circles, hoping Eskel will tire himself out before he has to hurt him. Geralt is not even sure if he can hurt Eskel at this point anyway. He has no real weapon apart for the few training swords scattered all around the yard and even so, he's not been able to approach Eskel at all. The bastard is too quick with his hands and he's been trying to either crush Geralt or burn him alive for a good five minutes now. Geralt's strategy so far has been yelling at Eskel to try to make him come out of his trance and in the meantime, keep him out of the castle where he can't hurt anybody but Geralt and himself. Not ideal but better than put everybody else at risk. Well except for the idiots looking at them from the walls but not actually helping in any way. They are on their own if some flames come licking at their stupid asses.
"Who cast the Sign?" Rennes asks coldly.
"Marcus first cause he's good with them. But it wasn't working really so I… I did too Master. We just wanted to frighten him a little. Make him see stuff that isn’t there. Like a big kikimora or something. It would have been funny to make him fight nothing."
"There's nothing funny about making a man go mad lad. Casting an uncontrolled Axii on someone is dangerous enough, you could break his mind with two at the same time! Never do that again!"
While Rennes is scolding the two stupid boys, Vesemir risks throwing a quick look outside, trying to spot both his trainees. Geralt is a few meters from the platform, Eskel, maybe eight meters away.
"Come on buddy there's no treat here! You're just imagining things Eskel, it's not real. It’s just me," Geralt tells him softly, trying to avoid stones flying his way. Eskel apparently has learned how to direct things with his Aard Sign, already with impressive force and accuracy for his age. Geralt manages to grab half a training dummy and raise it in front of him as a shield. He's obviously too exhausted to cast Quen. Signs take out a lot of energies and he hasn't even mastered this one yet.
"Alright, now you're starting to piss me off Eskel!" Geralt growls, blood flowing from a cut right above his eye where a stone has nicked him before he could raise the dummy up. He braces himself and throws the dummy at Eskel with all his force. Eskel doesn't react quickly enough and takes the dummy square on the chest, tumbling down from the force of the trow. Geralt has barely the time to take a few mouthfuls of air before Eskel is up again.
"Come on man stay down!"
Vesemir sees the rage in Eskel’s eyes, glazed over with the Axii Signs. He sees the boy bend both his hands to cast Igni and he knows this time Eskel will burn Geralt alive if he doesn't intervene. Vesemir runs immediately towards the boy and leaps off the little platform to land in front of Geralt, right before the flames can reach him. Vesemir raises his Quen shield in an instant, protecting them both from the inferno raging around them. Eskel shouldn't even be able to cast Signs with both his hands at the same time yet, even less so produce two Igni with such force, he's too young for that. But somehow he can and Vesemir's shield is barely powerful enough to protect both of them as the flames engulf most of the courtyard. In another situation, Vesemir would marvel at the power displayed by the boy right now. Geralt can feel the heat of the flames through the protective golden aura and instinctively crouches low behind Vesemir to protect himself. It only takes a few seconds but to them, it feels like an eternity.
“Can you take him?” Vesemir yells, barely audible above the roar of the flames surrounding them.
“I think so. Yes… yes I can”, Geralt answers breathless but confident.
“Get ready then” Geralt moves next to the Older Witcher, feet braced against the ground, waiting.
As soon as the flames receded, Vesemir drops his shield and Geralt's bolts straight ahead. Eskel is slightly lightheaded from all the energy he just expelled and Geralt uses the opportunity and tackles his friend at full speed, toppling them both over.
Before Eskel has times to react, Geralt straddle him, trapping his legs with his thighs to avoid being kicked off and lacing their fingers together on each side of Eskel's head to stop him from casting another Sign and keep him down.
"Eskel look at me! It's Geralt! I'm your best friend I won't hurt you!"
Eskel snarls and try to throw him off with his hip but Geralt hold on, putting as much weight on Eskel as he can.
"Come on man you know me! You know my voice, you know how I feel! Concentrate on me!"
Eskel calms down a fraction, eyes huge and panicked. He feels trapped and scared out of his mind but there's a flicker of recognition there.
"Ger… Geralt the monsters! They're everywhere!" he whispers frantically.
"It's okay Esk, I’ve got you. You have to calm down. Everything is alright I promise. Let me take care of you, no more Signs", Geralt reply, squeezing Eskel’s fingers to reassure him. Because of Geralt's position above him, there hips, bellies and arms are flushed together. Eskel can feel the hit radiating from Geralt and he just has to raise his head a little and push his nose against Geralt's throat and breathes in. Geralt smells tired and scared but he feels honest too. If Eskel searches deeper he can still find Geralt's usual smell deep under the rest and it's enough for him to calm down and come back to himself a little.
"Sleep," Vesemir says right next to them and Eskel's head falls back on the ground, eyes closed, face relaxed.
"No! Why did you do that! I had him, he was coming back to me! You didn’t have to Axii him again!" Geralt yell at Vesemir.
"I couldn't risk it Geralt. He could have turned again and kill you. Uncontrolled Axiis are unpredictable."
“So your solution is to do it to him again? Two times wasn’t enough for you?” Geralt snarls at the older man.
“I know what I’m doing Geralt,” Vesemir answers patiently, not coming too close just in case.
He knows Geralt is not mad at him, he’s just scared and very protective of Eskel. Everybody knows how much they care for each other. Even a blind mind would have noticed. It was dangerous but by the time the trainers had realised how close they really were, they missed their chance to separate them, the boys being already too old. There had been some debate among the older witchers and trainers to still try, even if the boys would go kicking and screaming. But Geralt had been chosen for additional mutations and Vesemir had argued he would have a better chance to live without the additional stress of losing his connection to Eskel. It was a gamble but it convinced enough people to keep them together. Vesemir knew he made the right choice the first time he heard Geralt crying and screaming for Eskel from even two levels above the deep trial room. The mages hadn’t been happy when Vesemir had shoved Eskel into the room that night, trainees weren’t supposed to witness the process. But the new mutations had been even more brutal than usual on the poor boy’s body and Eskel had been his lifeline, tightly grasping Geralt’s hand in his and whispering words of encouragement all night and day.
"Is he going to be okay?" Geralt asks quietly, looking at Eskel again, eyes heavy with concerns. He had let go of his hands but he was still straddling his friend, not wanting to move before he was sure it was over.
"He's tenacious and determined. And he has strong connections to his friends.. to you. I'm sure he’ll find his way back to us after a good rest."
"Will they be punished for what they did to him? It’s not right." Geralt asks softly, gently sweeping away some hair from Eskel face, still not taking his eyes off him.
"Yes. Very severely. Trainees should never cast Axii on each other before they mastered it. And even then Signs should only be used in case of emergencies on a brother. They won't forget that lesson again. I promise."
"Good."
"Now, get up. I need to bring him to the infirmary."
"I’ve got him," Geralt says, moving to Eskel's side and delicately taking him in his arms.
"You're hurt boy, let me take him."
"No. I told him I would take care of him. I don't break my promises to Eskel." Geralt gets up, his left arm shaking a little, painful from the burn. But Vesemir knows there's no use arguing or interfering between those two. Geralt will never let go of Eskel without a fight.
Geralt takes the stairs up to the little platform and growls at the two boys when he enters the corridor and walks quickly toward the infirmary without another word.
Rennes stops Vesemir before he can follow them.
"How long has this one been training his Igni?"
"A little over seven months."
"Have the mages look at him when he wakes up. Something tells me he's been holding back, I've never seen a trainee use Signs as he does. He's remarkably powerful already when he lets go. Maybe Geralt is not the only special one after all."
“As you wish Rennes,” Vesemir says, walking after his boys.
***
Thank you for reading! I have an entire series of stupid headcanons like this one and a couple of fic if you’re interested on my AO3 page :)
#eskel#witcher eskel#geralt#the witcher#eskel x geralt#myWitcherheadcanons#hurt/confort#angst#tw mind control#baby witchers
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Back in Baltimore
Warnings: Implied abuse, cursing, drugs/drug mentions, the foster care system, violence (some doodles Remus made), death mentions.
Prompt by @lance-alt
They were barely three. They'd been called in for a special day, so they packed their garbage bags (no one ever donated suitcases, and it wasn't like anyone would give them anything not required by law) early in the morning and ate a rushed, stale breakfast. The woman whose foster home it was crammed them in her van with the other six kids staying with her. There wasn't enough room and since they were the youngest, Remus sat in Roman's lap, looking out the window and bouncing his leg.
They got out at a nice park and the woman explained that today was a day where all the foster kids were going to be here to meet with "possible candidates" and maybe find new moms and dads. Remus picked at the grass, his fingers not yet precise enough to tie the blades into knots. Roman sat next to him, listening attentively until the woman clapped her hands twice.
Roman jumped up, beckoning to Remus. Remus followed, chasing Roman around the yard, his stubby legs propelling him forward.
Roman's foot caught in a hole in the grass in front of two men who were looking around at the kids playing in the park. He fell catastrophically, tumbling over himself and hitting against one of the men's legs.
"Well hello there!" The man said to Roman, ignoring Remus who had run up behind his brother, checking to see if he was hurt.
The man reached down, helping Roman to his feet. "I'm Corbin," he said, and then gestured to the man next to him. "This is Sloan, my husband."
"I'm Roman!" Roman said. Remus stood behind him. He wanted to speak, introduce himself, but... Roman looked so happy. And Remus suddenly felt very uncomfortable. This wasn't his place, not at all. Maybe.... Maybe these were Roman's new dads, and maybe.... Maybe Remus would find new parents somewhere else.
He walked away, sniffling. He didn't want to cry in front of Roman, then Roman would try to cheer him up. And that would be... That would be... A bad way to say goodbye.
★★★★★★★
"Fucking hell. I fucking hate Baltimore." Remus slung the garbage bag over his shoulder. He'd been kicked out of another foster home (this time for selling drugs, which sucked, because not only was he caught, but he had also been here a good few months and actually had a few regular clients.) And now he was going back to Baltimore. Home-sweet-fucking-home, Baltimore. There hadn't been any open houses in the area so booting his scrawny seventeen year old ass over a state and into his least favorite city was obviously the best thing to do.
He'd start at his new school tomorrow. He stepped down, thanking the bus driver, and relished the silence walking to his new temporary home. As he walked up the short pathway to the door, he heard yelling inside. Good to set your expectations right early, right?
He knocked on the door, rather loudly, and the yelling stopped.
"Oh, hello, uh...." Said a wiry woman who came to the door.
"Remus. Your new.... Kid," he supplied. He adjusted the garbage bag on his shoulder, hearing some of his few prized possessions clink together at the bottom of the bag.
"Right, right, come on in. You'll be sharing a room with Virgil, since you and him are about the same age." The woman beckoned him in, showing him up the stairs and into a room that was papered with band posters.
"'Sup," said a emo boy sitting in one of the three beds in the room. "I'm Virgil, but you can call me Virge. I guess we're roomies now?"
"That's basically the deal, yeah. I'm Remus." Remus walked to one of the beds and set his garbage bag down gently on it.
"Weird name."
"Says the guy named after a Roman poet who wrote about bees and flowers," Remus looked over his shoulder, watching the boy of maybe fifteen or sixteen crack a smile.
"Touché."
"What grade are you in? And do you go to the local public highschool? Because I'll need a tour guide tomorrow." Remus started to pull things out of his trash bag ""suitcase"" and organizing them.
"Tenth, and yeah. I'll take you around." Virgil hummed along to the song playing in his headphones.
"Fucking Baltimore."
★★★★★★★
A substitute teacher for his first class on his first day of a new school. Fucking spectacular.
"Hello class, I'm Ms. Mason. I'll be your substitute for today. First off, roll call." The teacher, about 30, with short brown hair, bent down and retrieved a clipboard, brushing some hair out of her face, and started to read names.
"Duke, Remus?" She said, after a few names.
"Here." He'd been garnering looks since he came in, because having a new student is fun and exciting for everyone else.
The teacher nodded, moving on down the list. Remus ears pricked. "Prince, Roman?" Remus looked around, somewhat frantically.
"Here," Said a boy with light brown hair, a few rows in front of Remus.
Remus craned his neck, trying desperately to get a look at Roman's face. It was super duper unlikely, but there's only so many "Roman"s in Baltimore. Remus thought about the name. If he really was.... Remus couldn't even think it.... If he really was him, then when he'd gotten adopted he'd changed his name... He'd upgraded, from a Duke to a Prince.
Ms. Mason finished calling roll, setting down the clipboard and picking up a thick stack of papers. "This is your worksheet for today, it's due at the end of the period." She maneuvered around the teacher's desk, handing out papers. Remus took one distractedly, still watching the back of Roman's head.
He didn't dare to hope, and yet here he was, hoping, desperately. Desperately, that this was his Roman. His brother.
He spent the rest of the class nervously fidgeting with his paper, doodling people's heads being cut off and swords being shoved through people's guts. When the bell rang he had already stuffed the paper in his bag, and he made his way toward Roman. What if he was wrong? He couldn't be. But what if he was?
"Do you need anything?" A voice said with a thick New York accent, and Remus met the eyes of a tall, thin boy wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses.
"Your number?" Remus cocked his eyebrow. If the boy was straight he'd be scared off and if he was gay... Well, Remus wouldn't mind.
The boy leaned down a bit, hugging Remus around the neck. "Type this into your phone," he whispered, starting to say his phone number after Remus had opened his contacts app. "And, the name is Remy, by the way. Toodles, babes."
Remus grinned, typing in the name and putting his phone in his pocket. He looked up, only to see the last of his classmates filtering out, and no Roman in sight. Fuck.
★★★★★★★
His next two classes were fine. He didn't pay attention, mind too distracted by Roman and Remy...
The lunch bell rang, and Remus was already out the door of AP calculus, pulling out his phone and tapping Remy's name.
"Babes?" Came the sarcastic, New York accented voice.
"Where can I meet you for lunch? It's Remus, by the way. From first period."
"A building, the one by the West gate. I'll be at the door and we can drop by Starbucks or something."
Remus hung up, walking through campus until he found the A building and spotting a shiny pair of sunglasses. "Hey there Remy. You said something about Starbucks?"
"Hey babes! Nice to see you again," Remy slung an arm over Remus' shoulders. "And yes. Starbies."
Remus chuckled. "Which direction?"
Remy gestured with his free hand, slipping his phone in his pocket. "What brings you to Baltimore? The big b?"
"Got kicked out. Again." Remus shook his head at Remy's concerned look. "Don't worry, my birth parents are dead." Remus laughed at Remy's shocked expression. "Don't worry about it. But, any chances you know that Roman Prince guy?"
"Yeah, we've talked a few times. Talks a lot about his dads, real family loving kid. I guess." Remy blew some hair out of his face, gesturing for Remus to turn a corner.
Remus was practically holding his breath. "And his dads, do you know their names?"
"Corbin and... Sloan? Shaun?"
"Sloan." Remus pushed open the doors of the Starbucks. "That's definitely him, then. My brother. Roman Duke. Or well, these days, Roman Prince."
"Isn't that dramatic? Damn, your life is like a soap opera or some shit, babes."
"Yeah, I guess," Remus laughed. "What do you want?"
★★★★★★★
Ask if you want part 2?
#remus sanders#roman sanders#remy sanders#intrusleep#rem^2#creativitwins#sanders sides fluff#implied abuse#violence#drugs#swearing#death mention#sloan cartoon therapy#corbin cartoon therapy#virgil sanders
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A New Hero Chap 14
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887313/chapters/59619589
Taglist: ASK AND YOU SHALL BE PUT ON~~!!!!
Ok, so here’s the next chap! Sorry about the wait, life got....interesting to say the least. At long last tho, we have Mari n Co heading to Gotham finally! Cant wait for the small reunion later this chap!! I FORGOT THE TWEETS AGAIN DAMNIT!!!!!! I am SOOOO sorry i WILL remember to keep addin them on at the ends!!!
“Your brother wants me and Lana to what?” Alya asked looking over at Dick tired.
“Stay put. Easy!” Dick replied and Alya glared at him.
“Uh, huh. He wants, me a Detective to not leave the precinct, and Lana, a college student to not move even tho she has cleanses to go to?” she repeated and Dick pressed his lips together.
“Ok, when you put it like that-” he started but got cut off by Alya putting her hand over Dick’s.
“Damian isn’t even here. Why does he care what we do since your his brother who should get his butt over to the airport since his flight should be landing in 20 or so minutes and its already 9:50. Get your ass over to that airport to give your brother a hug,” Alya said glaring and Dick yelped. “Ya, give a call when your getting back since well, you’ll see,” she said gripping his shirt and pulling him close and DIck swallowed the lump in his throat, “that Babs ain’t the only one to kick your ass into shape.”
A smirk grew on Dick’s face at that. “Is that a promise?” he teased and Alya scoffed pushing him back.
“You had your chance buddy. Now get outta here before I make you regret being late to seeing Damian arrive,” she said and Dick gave a mock salute before scurrying off, grabbing his keys as he ran while their fellow cops laugh around them.
“Did he really have a chance?” A British African American FBI agent asked as he watched Dick leave, his accent still going strong even tho he’s been in New Jersey for the last 5 years.
“Eh, possibly, Xavier. I do have eyes you know,” she said and Xavier snorted as he straightened his stack of papers. “Once maybe, until you realize he’ll only have eyes for Babs,” she continued and Xavier nodded.
“You’ll find love, I’m sure of it. If Shrek can find love as an Ogre, so can you,” Xavier said and Alya made a fake offended sound in response.
“Are you saying I look like an Ogre?” she asked and Xavier raised his hands in defense.
“Not at all!” he said and some people hummed at that.
“It really sounded like it~!” the precincts secretary, Mira, hummed out with a smirk and Xavier glared over at her.
“Don’t anger the Goddess! She’ll rain down on you the wrath of almighty Zeus himself!” a different cop, Sarah she thought, shouted causing Alya to snort.
“I ain’t no Goddess, silly!” she shouted over to them. The cop in question, it was Sarah she can recognize that golden blonde ponytail anywhere, stuck her head out the break room with a look.
“No, you are a Goddess. Especially in that flowing dress, you wore for the Halloween party Dick threw,” she called and Alya rolled her eyes as some nodded agreement.
“You guys are ridiculous, get back to work,” she called and that had everyone nodding agreement while Alya chuckled to herself as she went to her desk. Xavier followed and leaned against the desk with his hip.
“Sticking a pin in that ‘Is Alya Grayson a Goddess or Not’ conversation,” he said chuckling softly, “I do hope whatever it is Dick’s brother has planned for you is nice,” he said and Alya smiled at him while nodding slowly.
“So do I. Now, isn’t Agent Fornell waiting for those documents your holding?” she asked and Xavier nodded with a smile.
“That he is. Talk to you later then. Goodbye!” he said beaming as he walked backward, waving to everyone who returned it before he left the precinct.
Alya shook her head as she pulled her phone out and texted Lana:
Als: Heads up, Damian apparently wants you and I to stay put where we r
Eagle-eye: whys that???? We rnt the closest
Als: who knows. Dick was just sending the message. idk, maybe Mari wants to hug us when she arrives?
Eagle-eye: maybe. I dont got time to theorize, got a test to do
Als: GL!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mari was bouncing between Damian and Xander as they boarded the plane finally after waiting for so long. They had to deal with morning traffic which took forever it felt like before they arrived an hour and a half arrive before their flight left making sure they didn’t have to worry about security taking forever. And the whole time Mari stared at the desk with her leg bouncing.
With 30 minutes to spare, Ms. Bustier arrived, the last one too. The other students had converged in the gate slowly at different times but with enough time to not worry. But Ms. Bustier arrived with less than 30 minutes to spare causing her class to worry.
Which to say the least?
Was awkward.
Alya and the others that didn’t know sat at one side of the gate looking at Mari and the people that knew awkwardly. They felt bad but knew they messed up.
BIG time.
Like MEGA BIG TIME that a simple apology wouldn’t work. It didn’t help that Mari’s friends didn’t let them thru. Kim, Nino, Chloe, Sabrina, Max, Lila, Xan, and Adrien all glared at them while Damian focused on Mari. Meanwhile, Alya, Alix, Mylene, Ivan, and Rose all tried figuring out what they could do to earn favor back from Mari. Juleka was the only one in the pure neutral middle ground. She skimmed the email and knew a movie was being filmed.
But didn’t know Lila was lying for sure.
She could guess. When Mari tried saying that and the disagreed she figured she’d stay quiet. She didn’t need anyone else trying to make her life hell. So Mari was neutral toward the girl as she hasn’t been present at that moment. So she was silently supporting the group and offering tidbits to help them realize that they need to change themselves before trying to regain Mari’s trust and friendship.
Only Time Will Tell.
They boarded the plane and sat back for the long flight. Most of them slept during the trip. Mari and Lila included. The two leaned against each other while Xan and Damian talked. Well, Damian talked. Which was odd. But it distracted Xan from the anxiety pooling in his gut as they flew.
After some time, and some crackers, the dread settled down. Damian told him everything that’s happened in Gotham since he left. Some he didn’t like hearing. But as Damian reminded him, everything was ok. No one is hurt.
Soon after Damian finished, Mari and Lila woke up. Lila smiled as she and Damian switched seats and she took Xan’s hand into hers. “It’ll be fine. They’re going to be so happy to see you,” she said quietly and Xan nodded.
“Even knowing what happened?” he asked and Lila hummed, tracing a finger along the back of his hand in nonsensical patterns.
“Ya, I think so. I think that they’re just going to be so happy that you survived everything and came back to them. From what it sounds like, if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here today,” Lila whispered leaning her head against his shoulder. In return, Xan lightly leaned his head against her head with a sigh.
“Ya, that’s what Damian said too. I know it’s true, but my head just keeps pushing all these doubts,” he mumbled.
“That’s fair. It’s been 8 years since you’ve seen them. Lana watched you get hit. And then, seemingly right before her eyes, you disappear. People change with time. But, those bonds? They don’t typically change. I bet they still miss you as if it was just yesterday,” she replied and Xan nodded slowly, placing his other hand over their hands, squeezing her hands.
“Thank you,” he whispered as they relaxed in their seats and played a movie for the rest of the flight.
“I hope they enjoy the surprise,” Mari whispered and Damian gave a small nod at that.
“I have no doubt that they’ll love it,” he said and Mari smiled softly at that.
“Ya, and they have you to thank for that,” she said and Damian gave a shrug.
“You did most of the work and helped him get better,” he pointed out and Mari smiled as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, a faint blush on her cheeks from doing that, not seeing Damian’s faint blush either.
“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to help if you hadn’t helped him escape. You may not have stayed, but you certainly did help,” she said softly and Damian nodded slowly at that. He remembered it clearly. Even tho it happened over a year ago, it was clear to him.
Damian had turned the GPS off the batjet and flew to Nanda Parbat. He remembered the boy that his mother kidnapped and brought back to life. He remembered training with him a couple of times to let him know he wouldn’t tolerate anything but perfection. He didn’t know what happened to the boy older than him when he left. But then he learned and regretted everything.
Xander was the little brother to Dick’s partner Alya who disappeared. He learned from Issi that Xan, or better known as Whisper in the League, was alive still and there. She had wanted to help get him out since she helped care for him, but she couldn’t without getting caught or killed for real. But now he’d fix the mistake he made.
It was quite easy to sneak into the building. He made his way to where he remembered his bedroom was. He knocked out any guard he saw and pounded on the door. Xan was wearing his training gear when he opened the door. He didn’t recognize Damian as the angry 9-year-old that beat him up when he first arrived. He was wearing all black with a hood and mask on to hide his identity. “W-who are you?” Xan asked suspiciously as he picked up the sword he kept next to the door.
“Do you want to stay here?” Damian asked and Xan looked at him confused.
“Wha-?”
“Do you want to stay here or escape? I can get you out,” he said and Xan glanced around before nodding slowly.
“I want to go back home,” he said and Damian nodded as he then started tugging Xan out. Damian was shocked he was still able to recognize Xan after all this time and all the changes. He wasn’t the same short, scrawny 11-year-old. He had filled out and was taller than Damian by quite a few inches.
“I’ll get you home then,” he said leading them out. As they ran out in the snow, Damian was behind Xan making sure he didn’t get hit. Which was a miracle in the storm, slipping on hidden ice as they ran. But he had been. So the best bet was to get him to Mari and Fu who would help him heal. So when he reached the outskirts of Paris, he cloaked and flew to an alley near the fight and helped Xan out. “This is as far as I can get you. I’m sorry,” he whispered as Xan gripped his head falling to the ground with his backed pressed to the wall.
“I just wish I could have brought him home all the way,” he whispered and Mari took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.
“You did what you could, Dami. He was hurt and needed help. If he had been taken directly to Gotham, who knows what would have happened,” she argued and Damian nodded slowly.
“Yes, I know. I just....when he recognized me when I saw the tat on his back. I....I wasn’t prepared to see the tat on his back and I forgot he was there still. So much happened since I got him out, I forgot he was with you. And he didn’t remember me helping him out. And I told him and he was happy. Even thou I didn’t get him out safely, he was happy,” he said at length and Mari once more squeezed his hand.
“Well, that’s probably because he knew you did your best. You went back to get him out of that place unprompted. You could have left him there, but you didn’t. You got him out with only a head injury that made everything fuzzy. Give yourself credit, Dami,” Mari said and Damian gave her a small smile at the end of her little speech.
“Thank you,” he whispered and Mari beamed at him.
After some time, the plane landed and they went thru the sequence to leave. Mari smiled as she watched Dick hug Damian with his brothers behind him smirking at his mock displeasure. When Xan appeared talking to Lila, the entire Wayne Family froze in shock. “Y-you-!” Jason started shocked.
“Xander?” Dick asked, a heartbroken tone in his voice. Xan froze where he was and looked up at the family. He didn’t seem to be breathing as he nodded slowly. “Your alive,” he breathed out before making his way over and setting his hands on Xan’s shoulders. Dick started looking him over while the other two made their way over. He then pulled Xan in for a bone-crushing hug causing a surprise sound to leave Xan. “I’m so glad your alive,” he continued.
“Man, this is your surprise, Pixiepop?” Jason asked and Mari nodded with a smile. “They’re going to love it,” he said messing up both Xan’s and Mari’s hair.
“I hope so,” Mari said and Tim gave Mari a reassuring look.
“Mari, they are going to love this. Dont doubt yourself, you’ll see,” Tim said as the rest of the class left the plane.
“You got him?” Mari asked and the boys nodded as they followed everyone to baggage claim.
“Ya, just meet us at the precinct in 20 minutes. I wouldn’t want you to miss the surprise,” Dick replied and Mari smiled with a nod.
Mari-aculous @MDC_Designs
The BIG SURPRISE is in 20 minutes~!! Cant wait to see their faces!!! #soexcited #sosoon #almostthere #surprises
Dick @ FlyingGrayson
Theyre going to LOVE it! Be prepared for lots of hugs Mari!!!
Ok, so here it is!!! The next chap!!! So this was takin while to push out that I decided I wanted to give the reunion scene a proper thing by giving it its own chap. Next chap we will see the Grayson Reunion!!!!! I cant wait for you guys to see it!!! until next time!! ~Love Willa<3<3<3
#fanfic#fanfic update#update#my writing#A New Hero#ANH#chap 14#maribat#daminette#ml x dc#long time no update#my bad#lol#Lana Grayson#Alya Grayson#Xander Grayson
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“Point the shield up, Astrid. Sword angled down. You won’t kill anything looking like a frightened rabbit, will you?”
“No..” Came paired with an exhausted sigh. A scrawny little redhead with a massive mop of wild copper curls squared her feet, raising her sword and shield once more.
Broad shoulders rolled into an expression of exasperation, the large, tattooed man with kind grey eyes staring at the thin girl. His head tilted and he chuckled softly.
“Come now, little Shieldmaiden. Fenryr is watching! You can’t tire out after one loss. What ever will you do during battle?!” The large man said, perhaps as stern as he could manage as he sauntered over to the girl. She couldn’t have been more than eight years old at the time, sporting a shield too big for her body and a sword twice that. Astrid sighed loudly as that big arm wound around tiny shoulders, tugging the girl close to his chest in a hug. “I asked you a question, hm?” He teased gruffly with a kiss to the top of her head.
“I’d die. And so would the person I’m s’posed to protect.” Came with a little pout, scowling at her shield and the ground as she was enveloped in the man. She felt the nod against her head.
“Exactly. Promise me, little sister, you’ll do better tomorrow. If you want Skadi to choose you during your Conclave, you aren’t any good dead.” Came rumbled with a wink tossed down to the still-scowling girl. Astrid huffed softly past her nose, of which gave a small crinkle, but she peered up to her brother with that cheeky little grin.
“Fine then! One more time! And I’ll kick your ass, Volken! If I do, you’re gonna forget all about that stupid sword we found in the woods!” Astrid barked, playfully shoving that brick wall of a man away from her as she readied her sword and shield again. Volk laughed, a warm sound that rivaled thunder in its boisterousness, and he spun around on his heel with a little twirl to his sword as he paced back across from her.
“Atta girl. Deal’s a deal, then.”
“Astrid! Volken! Come, it’s time for dinner!” Came a woman’s voice from a small house not too far away. The pair audibly groaned, before Volk gave another laugh. “Seems you get a chance to rest after all, sister mine.” The man laughed as he made his way back over to the girl, who was pouting in the direction of their mother in the doorway, baby brother bouncing on her hip. Two other boys filed in, another girl hot on their heels. Laughter filled the small cottage as Volk’s arm wound around Astrid’s shoulders, guiding the girl back towards their home.
“Tomorrow, little ylva.”
Tomorrow never came. Astrid rolled over on her side next to Varsen after her and Adamar shared their sad stories for the evening after everyone scattered. A quiet sigh left her as those burning eyes stared through the Northman at her side, fingers trailing along that crimson ink on his right shoulder gently, a snail’s pace so as to not wake him up.
“I’d give anything to see him again.”
A little sniffle saw Astrid bury herself deeper into those blankets, the only thing sticking out of the top of them would be the crown of her head, forehead pressed gently against the side of Varsen’s chest as she wriggled beneath an arm like the night prior. Anything.
@adamarmeadowcroft
@ataleofvalor
@theborderlandcoalition
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Should you fight my f/os?
Tagged by @megane-shipping @rose-wine-selfships @firebird-inkheart
I have many f/os, so this isn't all of them but I still did a fair number of 'em.
Also the rating system confused me but I did my best.
Dazai: He looks pretty scrawny, and while he is a pretty good fighter fighter through skill he isn't the physically strongest opponent, but you still wouldn't be able to beat him. He'd come up with some sort of plan where you'd probably think you'd won but then you turn around and oop no Dazai won. How does that work? Who fucking knows.
No fighting Dazai. 2/10
Erza Scarlet: She will kick your ass with the power of friendship and her eighteen thousand swords. Are you kidding me? She's queen of the fairies, no way. Beating her up only inspires her to win for the sake of her guild.
No fighting Erza. 1/10
Shinobu Kocho: She will poison you with a smile on her face. Unless your name is Douma, I would not recommend (ouch).
No fighting Shinobu. 4/10
Chuuya Nakahara: if you're looking to get crushed by a manlet in a fancy hat, then go for it. He's quite possibly one of the strongest ability users out there, but tell him Dazai called him a nerd or whatever and he'll fly into a rage that you can either use to your advantage or will result in you being crushed faster.
No fighting Chu-tan. 1/10
Yosano Akiko: Holy shit what? You're going to fight her? She will hack you to pieces, put you back together, and then repeat, repeat, repeat until she has to go and catch a sale.
No fighting Yosano. 4/10
Howard Phillips Lovecraft: You have a chance so long as he continues to give into his tiredness, he may simply lay there while you beat the shit out of him. Make sure you keep him from going all eldritch monstrocity on your ass though.
Not advised to fight Lovecraft. 3/10
Edgar Allen Poe: He's baby, why would you fight him? I know his best friend is a raccoon and he looks like he hadn't been outside since he was a baby, but what would you accomplish by fighting him?
To remain a decent person no fighting Poe. 5/10
Mark Twain: He's allergic to wearing shirts properly and thinks he's all buff and stuff, but you can punch him in the eye and knock him the fuck out. His little doll friends ain't gonna do shit. So long as you get too close for him to snipe you, you've got this.
Fight Mark. 7/10
Margaret Mitchell: I would really rather you not, she's napping. If you did, though, be ready to get caught in your own personal tornado while she rants about restoring her families honor. Unless your name is Akutagawa, be careful.
Not advised to fight Margaret. 5/10
Higuchi Ichiyo: She's certainly not the most formidable opponent, but she would gladly cut a thousand bitches for the sake of getting senpai to notice her.
You could fight Higuchi but it's not advised. 6/10
Gin Akutagawa: You wouldn't even hear her coming. The thought of fighting her would be brand new and then whoops, you've got a knife to the throat. She's not a leader of the black lizards for no reason.
Not advised to fight Gin. 4/10
Beelzebub: There is a chance that he would literally eat you, but for the most part while he is a big, beefy demon, he's also a teddy bear; he'd probably let you punch him over and over with a straight face. Stay away from his food and you should be fine.
Maybe fight Beelzebub. 6/10
Mammon: On one hand, he is the second most powerful of his brothers, he could easily destroy you. On the other hand, boy gets beat up verbally and physically by his brothers every damn day and has a mountain of insecurities, poke at those and you could probably win. Or make him even more mad. It's a gamble with the avatar of greed, my guy.
Maybe fight Mammon but not advised. 5/10
Jae-ha: He's a quick fellow, and his aim with those daggers is pretty spot on, it'd be very difficult and your best chance would be to try and ground him so he can't use his dragon leg. Although, he's a pervert and would probably like getting beat up, so you could win simply by that
Not advised to fight Jae-ha unless he's feeling especially nasty: 5/10
Chain Sumeragi: She can literally make herself completely undetectable and then stick her hand through you to play with your insides, unless you can get past that somehow, you're fucked.
No fighting Chain. 3/10
Steven Alan Starphase: He will Esmeralda Blood Freeze you before you can even blink and the shatter you into ice cubes for his drink. He ain't afraid to get his hands dirty.
No fighting Steven. 3/10
The Happy Huntresses: They're an experienced team of top of their class huntresses; four badasses trained not only to fight people but also giant evil monsters.
No fighting the happy huntresses. 4.5/10
Meis and Gueira: I mean they look decently tough with those bikes and the armor and the fire, but everytime we see them in a fight they get their asses handed to them in like two seconds. Best to be equiped with a fire extinguisher or like some ice cubes to chuck at 'em.
Maybe fight them. 6/10
Aizawa Shouta: Your best bet is to catch him in the middle of a nap, but please be so careful not to wake him up, he's most likely be so cranky that he'd forget he's a hero and snap your neck.
Not advised to fight Aizawa. 5/10
Idia Shroud: His scrawny ass barely ever leaves his room, he hasn't lifted anything heavier than his phone ever, he's a flaming stick basically.
You could fight Idia. 7/10
Sesshomaru: He has very little mercy to spare and has killed a great deal of people and demons.
No fighting Sesshomaru. 2/10
Annie January: She is capable of blinding and throwing you across the room with a beam of light from her hands and can lift like thirty two times her bodyweight. Unless you also have superpowers, would not recommend.
Not advised to fight Annie. 5/10
Byleth: She's a skilled fighter on her own, but she also has an army of feral students ready to beat the shit out of anyone who messes with their proffessor.
No fighting Byleth. 4/10
Shatina: Her greatest joy is beating people up and watching them bleed, she steps on and torments even her closest allies on a near daily basis. She would crush you and the go right back to drinking.
No fighting Shatina. 4/10
Maeve: I'm actually not sure what kind of fighting ability she has, but why would you want to hurt a goddess?
No fighting Maeve. 5/10
Ban: He's a member of one of the strongest groups of fighters in the land, and he's able to almost immediately regenerate after any and all damage. Also, he's like 10 feet tall, what are you going to do? Chew on his ankles until they snap off? They grow right back.
No fighting Ban. 4/10
Joxter: Fucking feral cat man, too lazy to fight back. Kick his ass.
Fight Joxter. 8/10
Shigure Sohma: Please fight Shigure, please. I will put my bet on you and watch.
Please fight Shigure. 9/10
Vodka: She's used to fighting giant fallen angels, she'd have no trouble kicking your ass and looking good while doing it. Also, she could simply send her hawk Andre to peck out your eyes before she even has to do any work.
Not advised to fight Vodka. 5.5/10
Jordan 'JD' Davies: They're the Jersey Devil. Literally, the Jersey Devil. They'd burn you to a crisp with their fire powers. But, your chances of victory aren't zero if you could find a way to deal with that. They're strong, but you could find a way with a fist fight. Fuck knows they deserve to be fought.
You probably shouldn't but fight JD anyways. 7/10
Zoro: You're going to fight a guy who wields three swords? One of which he sticks in his mouth? He's clearly crazy. Also I'm pretty sure he cuts a mountain in half at some point or something like that? So there's that to take into consideration. You're best bet would be to also be amazing with swords.
No fighting Zoro. 3/10
Nami: She's not the most powerful out of all of all of her crew, but if you beat her you will leave afterwards and notice that your wallet and all your valuables that you had on you are missing and she's already sailing away.
You could fight Nami but you will be poor afterwards. 7/10
Mollymauk Tealeaf: Hasn't he been through enough?
No fighting Molly please. 5/10
Zora: She will turn you into a literal baby, how do you plan on beating her up as an infant with your chubby lil baby hands?
No fighting Zora: 4/10
And I wanted to include some familial too
Yukichi Fukuzawa: Have you seen him fight with a sword? You won't even see him draw it.
No fighting Fukuzawa. 2/10
Ogai Mori: He will trick you into thinking he's merely a simple, friendly neighborhood physician, and then the moment your back is turned there will be a scalpel buried deep in it. Also, he has a demon baby at his command.
No fighting Ogai. 2/10
Kouyou Ozaki: You might think you're sneaking up on her, but her Golden Demon will cut you down without her even needing to look away from admiring the flowers and sipping her tea.
No fighting Kouyou. 2/10
Oda Sakunosuke: HASN'T HE BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH.
No fighting Oda PLEASE. 4/10
Ranpo Edogawa: While he has eaten nothing but processed sugar since the day he was born, he will eviscerate you with his words and leave you too mentally beaten to lift a finger. Stuff your ears with some cotton and kick his scrawny ass. The rest of the detective agency will come after you, though.
Not advised but go ahead and fight Ranpo. 5/10
Yumeno Kyusaku: So much as look at this child wrong, much less lay a finger on them, and I will be the one fighting you.
NO FIGHTING YUMENO. 0/10
Lio Fotia: I know he looks like a dandy who was abandoned and raised by a biker gang, but he is also the strongest known burnish. The only thing saving you is his code against killing.
Not advised to fight Lio. 4/10
Laxus Dreyar: He's an asshole, and I completely understand wanting to fight him, but he is jacked as shit with the power of lightning at his finger tips.
It's not smart but I would like to watch you do it anyways. 2/10
Noctis Lucis Caelum: He'd rather fish than fight you, but he is capable of taking down giant monsters and mini armies with the ability to teleport. Tell him Hot Topic is going out of business and he'll crumble.
Not advised to fight Noctis but eh maybe you could. 4/10
Pretty sure all the people I would've tagged have already done it? So do this if you want to.
#self ship#self shipping#should you fight my f/os?#selfship#selfshipping#self ship community#dazian#erzian#I'm too lazy right now to tag them all gonna do that later
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Can we get some fire nymph quotes?
Cole
“Queen Margo told me this saying from her home realm, ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’. I rather like that one.”
“Topaz, my precious gem, is very dear to me. Please take good care of her, Prince.” -chuckles- “Keep her out of trouble as best as you can.”
“Don’t let my appearance fool you. I’m not going to let you best me.”
Phyra
“If you even look at my kids sideways, I’ll beat the snot outta you!”
“How was sparring practice today, Topaz? I hope you gave them hell like mama taught you.”
“So what if you’re different. There’s nothing wrong with that. If someone says otherwise just slap them across the head, that’ll show them!”
Zafira
“Sweetie, if he was your man then he wouldn’t be knocking on my door now would he? Either get your pussy game up or get the hell out of my face.”
“Stop complaining, bitch. I’ll kill to have a big ass and thick thighs like yours. You’re out here giving fish boy a full course meal every night while my scrawny ass is giving scraps. I mean, they’re finger licking good ass scraps but still.”
“Ugh, if I have to enter one more fuckin’ tournament. Like damn, I like getting my ass wrecked but not like this...”
Scorch
“What a waste of space. The Great Volcano should have engulfed you whole and took you out of your misery.”
“You really think you can take me on shrimp? Your scaley hide will make a great addition to my collection.”
“You can’t hide from me forever, Topaz…”
Salvo
“I’m almost half her age? So? I don’t see the issue here. A good woman ages like sweet wine, and I’m ready to take a sip~”
“Hey Twin, when are we gonna do doubles at a tournament? Kinda getting tired of you kicking my ass, I would rather fight with you.”
“You gotta admit, Braze. The nip rings are a chick magnet. I mean, they like playing with shiny things.”
Braze
“My cousin will be the best warlord this tribe has ever had. You’ll see…”
“Hmph, that Topaz thinks she’s all that, parading around with that flame of hers. She comes from weak lineage so that makes her inferior…”
“I refuse to repeat myself, so you better listen up, Salvo.”
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Like Ghosts In Snow (Ch. 2)
While your guardian is keeping a huge secret you take on the nightlife and find yourself in a mad supernatural hellzone.
Vampire au, villain au
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence
A/N: I had written 90% of this before I started requests and figured I’d finish it before continuing. I’ll get on to do more requests Thursday at the latest! Deku is here! I’m stoked.
Previous
Chapter 2: Ambrosia
You sat on the passenger seat of Bakugou’s Oldsmobile and listened to his shitty gangster rap music. Eijirou moved around in the back seat from window to window allowing his head to pop out to catch the cool salty pacific air, occasionally popping his head over your seat to give kisses and sniffs.
Bakugou parked the car on the side of the road. You knew immediately by looking around that this was a college town. Kids around your age walked in groups up and down the street, shopping, finding hot spots, looking for places to get a drink or go to dinner. They skipped and cheered and laughed with one another. You felt a twinge if jealousy watching other kids having fun with their friends.
“The comic book store a couple blocks away so we’re gonna have to walk,” Bakugou said letting Eijirou our of the car. Eijirou sat on the sidewalk waiting patiently for the two of you to start walking. A good boy.
Before you got out of the car, you bent down to tie your shoe. Bakugou opened your door for you. You looked up at him surprised. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you said slightly slurring the word ‘chivalry.’
“Hurry the fuck up.” Woah there, partner.
You slid down your seat and out of the car and walked fast paced towards the sidewalk however you managed to trip over your own leg and nearly fell into the road.
It was like you were frozen in air. You started at the street but your face never met it. At that same moment a 1967 black mustang sped down the road. The would’ve hit me, you thought yourself.
Bakugou pulled you onto the sidewalk. He had caught you by your hand just in time. “It would be really nice,” he growled at you, “if we could make it to this damn comic book store without you getting yourself fucking killed.”
You blinked at him. He had saved you by he was still so mean. You looked into his glowering red eyes. He did look a bit concerned. Still he was being so rude to you, and why?
You laughed. “I just wanted you to hold my hand,” you said innocently. You looked down at your hand still intertwined with his.
He threw it away stalking off down the street. You thought for a second you had seen him blush. You just shake your head.
You walked in silence for a while, watching as Eijirou sniffed every lamppost, ever plant, and every trash can you passed by. People avoided Bakugou on the street, making sure to walk into the road to avoid being near him. It probably didn’t help the Eijirou was a growling machine whenever anyone looked his way.
“We’re going to cut down this alley and walk behind the buildings. The dog is wasting our time stopping every second he can to get his damn fix.” So you followed Bakugou down an alley with Eijirou watching carefully behind you.
The alleyway was plastered with ‘Missing Person’ posters. Faces of all ages stared at you with messages from loved ones pleading for the viewer to call specified numbers if there was any information on their whereabouts. You read some of the names. ‘Momo Yaoyorozu’... ‘Denki Kaminari’... ‘Hitoshi Shinsou’... You came upon a poster where the person’s face was torn away from the wall. The name read ‘Izuku Midoriya.’
Bakugou has stopped walking to watch you look at all the posters. You turned to him and asked, “is this town safe?”
“Does it feel safe?” He glared at you. He was so cryptic.
You gulped. It didn’t. But you weren’t going to let this smug fucker spook you out when you wanted to enjoy your night. You sarcastically fluttered your lashes gave him a smile, curling a lock of hair around your finger and gushed, “I feel safe knowing that a big strong man such as yourself is here to be my personal body guard.” You could nearly see steam fuming out of his nostrils. Eijirou barked at you, as if to say, I’m here too you know! You turned away from him and skipped down the alleyway.
The back of each building had something beautifully painted on it. You were mesmerized by the swirl of blue mixed with an orange and pink hue that painted a landscape of a giant wave crashing against a bluff. The next building had the scene of a thunder storm in the middle of a desert, the cactus and dunes were silhouetted against a purple night sky with a white lightning bolt bursting through it.
The last building on your trek really caught your eye. An incredibly bulky man stood over a mound of skeletons that had pointed teeth. His blonde hair seemed to be blowing in the wind. He held a medieval axe in one hand while his other flexed showing off rippling muscles. He had a huge conquering smile on.
“We’re here,” Bakugou snapped you out of your daze.
“Wow,” was all you said.
“Tch,” Bakugou looked down at Eijirou who seemed almost as amazed as you were at the painting. You didn’t think dogs could understand artwork. “You’re staying right here,” Bakugou said to the dog.
Eijirou let out a whine but he sat down obediently.
A bell dinged as you entered the store. At the front, an older man sat staring blankly through the window at people walking by. He was scrawny, nearly skin and bones, eyes sunken in casting a shadow over his face, but he had wild blonde hair, with bangs parted down the middle falling to either side of his face. When you walked by, giving him a smile, he slowly put up a hand to greet you but continued to stare outside, as if his greeting was only a reflex. Bakugou didn’t look at him.
The place was filled. Different swords and weapons decorated the walls, comic books grew in stacks, there were standees of heroes from recent movies you’ve watched in theaters, and separate sections for old movies, games, and cds were labeled in pictures and stickers, and there were stairs towards the back of the store labeled ‘records,’ with a sign pointing up.
You slowly walked to a stack of books and fingered the folds of a random book before picking it up. It had been a manga from the mid 2000’s called, ‘My Date With a Teenaged Vampire.’ You snickered to yourself as you flipped through the pages, watching the heroine blush and swoon over a very cheesy looking vampire.
Bakugou scoffed over your shoulder causing you to jump and throw the book back into the stack. “Jesus! Hover much, Katsuki?”
“It’s Bakugou,” he rolled his eyes at you. “Of course you’re one of those girls that believe in that ‘vampires are romantic, star crossed lovers, fate’s kiss’ bullshit. Vampires feed, kill, and burn, in that order.”
“And werewolves howl, piss on trees, and hump each other, in that order,” you wanted to defend yourself but you didn’t want him to think you cared about what he thought about you. You didn’t.
“Werewolves don’t exist,” he said crossing his arms, challenging you.
“And vampires do? Honestly, Bakugou, if you are gonna be a killjoy, you could just wait outside.”
“I don’t see why the fuck not. It’s not like I wanna be here.”
“The door,” you said, motioning towards the outside, “is right over there.”
He narrowed his eyes and slammed his hand on the table next to you and started leaning in to you causing you to move away from him. For a split second you thought he was going to kiss you but the thought quickly left your mind when he stopped right in front of you, his hot breath on h s face. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he whispered and shoved something to your chest before stalking away towards the front. You watched as he swung the door open, causing the bell to ring, and the shopkeeper raised his hand to say goodbye to his guest.
You looked at what Bakugou had left you. It was a comic book from the 1980’s. The title of the book was blacked out with sharpie pen and over it written in chipping whiteout was ‘10 Ways To Absolutely Destroy a Vampire.’ You flipped through the comic and saw various different scribbles over the original work, seeming to correct or call bullshit on certain things the comic had written in it. You read through a strip where the hero dramatically piles a stake through the heart of a vampire the words ‘obviously’ were messily scribbled next to the perishing vampire. You scrunched your face. Why did Bakugou give you trash? You flipped to the last page of the book where ‘property of Edgar and Alan Frog: vampire hunters’ were written. “Well, Edgar and Alan Frog, you guys are psychos,” you said aloud.
A sudden ring from the door front caused you to jump. You glanced up to see the shopkeeper put up his hand in greeting but didn’t see anybody in the store. A shiver went up your spine. Maybe it was someone lost or confused and turned back immediately? You shrugged it off but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
You made your way up the stairs to look at the collection of records. You flipped through the $2” stack and read through dozens of bands you hadn’t heard of. Your hand ghosted over some lapel pins representing music labels. You made your way over to the rock bands that were in an alphabetized order. You scanned through through the D’s; David Bowie, Dead Kennedy’s, Depeche Mode, and your fingers landed on the Morrison Hotel album by the Doors. You pulled it out of the stack and you felt eyes on you again.
You turned abruptly and your eyes met with mesmerizing emerald ones. You smiled at the messy haired boy who was fixated on you before returning reading the back of the album.
“Jim Morrison... quite the inspiration,” a friendly voice rang in your ears.
Nervous at the stranger speaking to you you didn’t look up from the album when you replied, “yeah... I think my dad is a big fan of his. I’m thinking about getting him this album.”
“You should get it for yourself,” the voice was right up against your ear. You took a step away and turned to the boy, giving him a surprised look.
His green irises peaked through half lidded eyes, face dusted in freckles, his red lips stretched into a lazy smile when he got a good look at you. He almost looked like a doll. He wore a white dress shirt with a black vest, black slacks, and converse. His cute face did not match his clothes at all.
“M-maybe I will,” you felt an uneasy tension creep up your back.
Taking a step closer he reached behind you, his arm pressing uninvitedly on your shoulder, and pulled a different record back into his hands, his eyes never leaving yours. “If you’re going to get an album by The Doors, might I suggest ‘Strange Days,’?” He flipped the vinyl over to show up the list of songs, rubbing his shoulder against yours. “Some of the songs feature a harpischord, an elegant instrument that’s not usually associated with rock and roll.” When you didn’t say anything he continued, “you know, when Morrison died they didn’t do surgery on his body to see what his cause of death was. Some believe he might still be alive.”
That made you laugh. “Yeah he’s probably somewhere sharing a drink with Elvis, right?”
The boy grinned at your joke. “Yeah, something like that,” the spirit of eerie irony filled his voice.
You took the vinyl from his hands and admired the odd photo they used as the album cover.
“What’s your name?” The boy asked.
“F/N L/N,” you said without hesitation. You felt you should be cautious around him but you couldn’t help but blurt out the honest answer immediately. A shiver shot through your body.
“F/N L/N,” your name was drawled our through his lips, slowly, as if he was savoring the taste of it on his tongue. “You’re a friend of Kacchan’s?”
“Who?”
The boy chuckled humorlessly. “Katsuki Bakugou. I can smell him on you.” Another uneasy wave hit you, still you were unable to move away from the boy. “He has a hard time making friends.”
“I can’t fathom why,” you said rolling your eyes.
The boy jumped up to sit on top of the counter holding the records. He smiled down on you. “I like you, y/n,” he said slightly kicking his feet. He reached over to the box of lapel pins and held it in his lap. He tilted his head to the side and asked, “Will you do me a favor?”
I don’t think so. “Sure.”
“Give me your hand.”
Your right hand involuntarily reached up to reach the boys. Taking one of the lapel pins he pricked your pointer finger. You winced, shooting your hand back. A drop of scarlet oozed from the tip. You sucked at your wound.
The boy’s smile grew, his tongue pressed against his white teeth. “What does it taste like?”
Leave. Turn around and leave. Go find Bakugou and go home. “It takes like,” you licked your finger, “skin and copper.” Why do you want to know?
He bit his lip, looking pleased. He held out his hand to you once more. “Let me try.”
Again your hand met his. He caresses your arm as he brought your bleeding finger to his lips, keeping eye contact with you, he kissed your finger. “Oh,” he took your finger into your mouth, you felt his tongue swirl around the wound, and he sucked. A greedy moan escaped his lips.
You felt a different kind of tingling envelope your body. It’s like you were entranced by this man who was sampling your blood.
Looking pleased, he let your hand fall to your side. “You taste magnificent. Like honey, sunshine,... ambrosia.” He licked his lips as if the taste of you lingered on them. “I can’t wait to have you when you’re not intoxicated.”
How does he know? How am I not screaming? Why can’t I call for help? Questions ran rapidly through your head as you stared at the green haired boy, paralyzed.
He hopped down from the counter and started walked towards the stairs. “Sadly, we’ll have to save that for another... date.”
Your body was burning to move. “What’s your name?” Was all you could muster.
He tossed his head back, sleepy eyes landing on you. “*Izuku Midoriya*, but you won’t be remembering that anytime soon.” The boy disappeared down the stairs.
Chapter 3
~
Tags for EVERYTHING: @yandere-inamorata @doriichii @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction @kido-is-not-a-ghost @wickedlewicked @chickennuggetsarequestionable @nevermorelenore @kpanime @jetblackjessie @ayeputita @bokunoheroes-stories @captain-sin-allmight-queen @diisasterbii @iceformer @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @mynahx3 @andie-in-tumblland
If you asked to be tagged in Like Ghosts In Snow please remind me. The list slipped through my silly seal flippers and I misplaced it.
#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha x reader#mha#my hero academia#bnha imagine#bnha reader insert#reader insert#villain deku x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki x reader#deku x reader#izuku midoriya#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#midoriya izuku x reader#izuku x reader#midoriya x reader
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Hospitality : Part Seven
Previous : Next
“I shouldn’t have let him go.” The squire muttered to himself as Gwen followed the faint tracks in the powder. “Or I should have gone with him.”
“If you had gone with him, there would have been no one to tell us where you were, and then you’d both be stuck out in the snow.”
“Well, at least I could have made sure he was alright.”
The trail of indents got deeper as she went; presumably because they were more recent and closer to the knight. She kept her steps a good foot an a half to one side of the trail and scanned the snow in front of her before each step she took, just to be safe. It made for painfully slow progress, but one wrong step would be one too many. “Do you see anything?”
“No, milady.”
“Name’s Gwen, not milady.”
“Beg pardon, milady. I mean Gwen!”
“I’ll pardon you if you tell me your name.”
“Hob, mi-Gwen.”
“Well, Hob, I don’t know about you, but I can’t see shit.”
They were hardly four feet from the stoop and already the blinding whiteness was straining her eyes. The whole snow covered yard was blurring into a featureless whiteness, no texture, no tracks.
This isn’t working.
“Brace yourself,” she said. Hob planted his hands firmly on either side of where he sat, cross-legged. Gwen lifted him up to her chest. “I’ve got to get closer to the ground if I’m going to see anything, and that means getting on my hands and knees, which means you can’t be in one of them.” It took a moment of fumbling to undo the button of her coat's breast pocket using only one hand, but as soon as she had it open, she brought the squire up to it. “Luckily, I’ve got a nice warm place you cang hang out while I look.”
“But…I wish to help!”
“You can help once I find him, but it’ll go faster if I do this part solo, trust me.”
Hob scooted over to the edge of her palm and looked the pocket up and down. “How…do I just…” He looked up at her with worried eyes. “Should I wipe my feet first, milady? Ugh!” He smacked his head. “Stupid. Gwen.”
“Don’t worry about it,”Gwen laughed. “It’s a crappy old coat. And you can call me milady, it’s growing on me.”
Hob swung his legs around so they dangled above the lip of the pocket. “I suppose I can just-” And he did just; tumbling off the edge and into the thick black wool with all the grace of a newborn puppy falling down a staircase.
“You okay?” Little elbows and knees poked into her chest as he righted himself. She could see the movement from the outside of the pocket as well, the faintest wriggling.
“I’m awright,” came the muffled cry. “Warm!”
“Good.” She buttoned the flap closed and dropped to her hands and knees. These gloves are less waterproof than I would have liked. Which is to say, they are not waterproof at all.
Now that she was closer to the ground, she felt confident moving a bit faster. She shuffled forward, knees already wet and soaking. (As waterproof as her gloves weren’t, pajama pants were doubly impractical.) She moved her flat palm across the snow in front of her in wide sweeping arcs. It was three inches deep now, not quite as tall as one of the little knights, but certainly enough to be practically impassible. He can’t have gone far.
But he had gone far (for such a small thing); eight feet from the door in fact. That’s where she saw it. Just a slight divet in the snow, next to a little white lump. The snow was still fresh and powdery on it. She only had to brush it lightly with her thumb to reveal gleaming silver beneath. The shape shuddered.
Bingo. She pulled her right glove off and dug her bare hand into the snow bank. Her fingers curled around a shivering shape; a little figure clad in metal so ice cold it hurt to touch, with soaking wet fabric and slick leather between plates.
The incident with Owain and the cat couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes and getting the food ready couldn’t have been more than another five. He must have gone off almost right after the door closed, to be so cold already. Was Owain’s armor this cold? She didn’t remember. But clearly it didn’t take long; her fingertips were bright red and hurting already, dusted with rapidly-melting snow.
Despite his fancy title, Lord Tyrian was almost as small as Hob. He must have been one of the youngest knights in the company, younger than Gwen. He was thin too, in a scrawny-kid-who-got-held-back-a-few-grades-and-only-ever-brings-plain-baloney-sandwiches-for-lunch kind of way. Come on. She rubbed her thumb back and forth against his breastplate. Open your eyes little guy.
He did. And opened them wide. And he didn’t take his eyes off her, as he prodded the skin beneath him. “You had me worried for a minute there.” She whispered, but he still tensed up at the sound. “What were you thinking, wandering off into the snow? You’re practically a popsicle.”
“I thought…I thought I could find another way in.” His voice was hoarse and frail, like he had a frog in his throat, and the frog had pneumonia. “D-did Owain fight bravely, at least?”
Gwen laughed. "He was crazy brave. He drew his sword on me and everything."
"And the others…"
"They’re all inside warming up."
For some reason, this news was not at all comforting to the young knight. He stared at her torso with an expression of mounting horror. Cold metal gloves pressed into her palm as he pushed himself backward; his arms were shaking. What did I say? The broad-shouldered man’s parting words to her echoed in her head; ‘he doesn’t know you’re not a man-eater.'
Gwen pressed her gloved hand to her face. "Holy fuck, I need choose my words better.” She laughed, not because this was a particularly funny situation, but in an effort to untangle the hideous uncomfortable knot that formed in her stomach at the realization of what the knight feared. "I didn’t eat them.” He flinched at the word, and it made her heart hurt. "They’re in the house, getting comfortable and having snacks."
"But, I-I can hear them c-crying out…" He pointed at her chest with a trembling finger. Gwen could almost hear it too; muffled shouts coming from her jacket.
“Oh, I’m an idiot.” She fumbled with the button of her jacket pocket for a moment before pulling her glove off with her teeth and tossing it aside. “That’s your squire, and I totally forgot about him, and that’s my bad.” She unbuttoned the pocket and reached in as gently as she could, but the little figure tucked in there still jumped at the sudden appearance of a hand. She pinched what felt like either side of him between two fingers and lifted slowly up. The squire emerged gasping, arms wrapped around her two fingers like they were the safety harness on a roller coaster.
He looks so helpless with his legs just kicking in the air. Her heart hurt again, and she had an overwhelming urge to wrap both him and his lord in Nadia’s cashmere scarf and give them thimblefuls of hot chocolate.
“Hob!" Lord Tyrian tried to sit up but he was too weak. He only managed a wobbly half-sit-up and before collapsing against her fingers.
“Whoah, easy!” She couldn’t keep a dumb grin off her face. “Gimme a second and I’ll orchestrate the big dramatic reunion.” Gwen shifted her weight backward and stood up as carefully as she could. Other than the wet spots on the knees of her pajama pants catching the breeze and freezing the dickens out of her, it went smoothly. It helped that Tyrian was lying down already so he couldn’t fall over.
She lowered the dangling squire to her other hand and let go. His legs were moving before they hit skin, and he barrelled into the prone knight, wrapping him in a tight hug. She lifted her hand so she could hear their quiet voices.
"I shouldn’t have let ye go alone.”
Tyrian coughed. “You shouldn’t have let me go at all.”
“I told ye not to!”
“Well, I should have listened.”
Tyrian turned his face toward Gwen, but he still addressed his squire.
"So, the giant…”
“Didn’t eat Owain. Not yet, anyway.”
“Or anybody else!” Both men flinched at the interruption. Not so loud. “And I’m not planning to either. ” Gwen brought her hand close to her chest and turned back toward the door; still open a crack. “I don’t know about you boys, but my ass getting numb. Let’s get inside.”
A/N: I maxed out the 100 text block limit my dudes, I had to go back and condense multiple paragraphs down to singles. WORTH IT (I hope/assume). @a-black-pegasus
Extra A/N: FUCK ME ITS 4 IN THE MORNING. WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE
#giant/tiny#g/t fiction#g/t writing#g/t fluff#knight#medieval#fantasy#asweetpea#sweetpea#gts#giantess#hospitality#g/t
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Prince au: Taemin has come into the crown at his 21st birthday. During his youth, he was a wilder child and only wanted to be normal. So he rebelled any time he could and in the end it causes problems. The people doubted him for being wreckless and wild, drinking/fighting and sleeping around. The men felt he was too scrawny and "pretty" to rule as king. But he makes it, the people think he's finally mature and accept him. Then turns out he's got a 6 year old kid. he was 16. Problems again.
Taemin was the nation’s Party Prince. From the time he was in middle school until just recently, he was rumored to have parties in the basement of his father’s palace, smoking weed and drinking alcohol with his friends when he was home alone. There were pictures of him, sixteen and drunk well below the legal drinking age, being escorted out of clubs with a wild look on his face. Videos of him dancing much too promiscuously for a teenage prince who should have been brought up knowing better than that, rocking his hips, biting his lips, his eyes half-lidded and dazed and clearly out of his mind. Kissing super models and commoner girls and throwing money at strippers. He was the Wild One, the Bad Boy, the Prince Gone Wild that all the mothers told their girls to watch out for.
He was the royal that the men of the kingdom made fun of. He was the boy who danced to club songs, danced like a girl, swayed his hips and messed up his hair on purpose; he wasn’t their version of a man. In their minds, he would never be King. He wasn’t strong enough.
But then Taemin, the Wreckless Wonder, became King on his twenty-first birthday. His father had died when he was very young, his grandmother was too old and stepped down from her place as Queen, and Taemin was thrust into a role he wasn’t really ready for. It was as if one moment he was out drinking with party girls and humping night club goers, and the next morning he was pushed out onto a balcony in a cape and a crown while a scepter and jewel was placed into his hands, an oath forced from his lips and his grandmother waving a sword from one of his shoulders to the next, naming him King.
Despite his track record, Taemin takes his role as King very seriously. He stops partying, stops going out to clubs, even stops drinking as much as he used to. He buries himself in his work, doesn’t give himself time to even think about drinking or drugs or partying. For a few blessed months, he’s scandal free. He has nothing but good press. But then the school year starts, and it’s all over the media about how King Taemin is bringing a small tiny kindergartener to his first day of school.
Taemin walked hand-in-hand with little Key, holding onto the boy’s backpack while they walked with a bodyguard up to the kindergarten. Most media kept their distance, afraid of getting too close to the King, but there were the fair few who were close enough to hear the exchange of:
“Daddy, I’m scared.”
“But you’ll have so much fun, bubby; you love school.”
Taemin, in all his well-groomed glory, was walking this chubby-cheeked, angelic little five-year-old to kindergarten, calling him bubby, holding his hand, being called Daddy. It was all over the news before lunch.
Taemin didn’t want to make a big deal about his son starting school. The headmaster of course knew that Key was the King’s son, was a Prince, but Taemin stood outside with all the other parents, knelt down next to his little boy when Key got upset, hugged him tight and kissed his cheek, and carried his backpack and lunch pale for him. And his backpack wasn’t some stuffy satchel like Taemin had when he was a child, but had a cartoon character on it (Key’s favorite), and his lunch pale matched, and his uniform was just messy enough to make him look like any other child that was attending the school. If Taemin wasn’t so popular, everyone would have guessed he was any other parent walking their child to their first day of school.
Except Taemin was 21, and Key was 5, and Taemin had clearly been a Teen Dad, and that was certainly Taemin’s first official scandal as King.
When Taemin picked Key up at the end of the day, the boy refused to walk on his own. He was upset, and tired, and he absolutely insisted, “Daddy, carry me.”
So Taemin walked home, carrying Key in his arms, Key’s backpack slung over his shoulder and the lunch pale tied to one of the backpack’s straps. The bodygaurd walked with them, and both adults asked Key about his first day, if he had fun, if he made any friends. Taemin kissed Key’s head and smiled and fixed his hair.
“Daddy’s so proud of you,” Taemin was heard saying. “Teacher said you were a very good boy today.”
“I’m always good,” Key said.
Taemin laughed, looked to the bodyguard with a smirk, and then tickled the back of Key’s neck.
“Always good my ass,” Taemin teased. Many people were in an uproar about King Taemin cursing to a child.
But what the public didn’t see was Key laughing maniacally at Taemin’s words, digging his face in Taemin’s neck, and squeezing his hands around Taemin’s hair. They didn’t see Key smile at Taemin and kiss his cheek and leave a big, sloppy wet splotch on it for Taemin to scrunch his nose up at. They didn’t see Taemin wipe his slobber-covered cheek on Key’s face, or the laugh that Taemin let out when Key rubbed their noses together.
After a week of speculation and pictures of Taemin taking Key to school, there was finally an announcement from the palace. It involved an official picture of King Taemin with the newly revealed Prince Kibum, fondly known as Key. It was announced that Prince Kibum turned five-years-old that September and just started kindergarten, and that he was in fact King Taemin’s biological son.
It wasn’t said, but the Queen had forced a paternity test when Key was born, when his mother insisted that Taemin was the father and that the royal family needed to take her baby in because of it. Taemin was definitely the father, no doubt about it, and Taemin had been the only parent Key had known from then on. The mother wanted nothing to do with him, had insisted that the royal family be the only ones to care for him.
Taemin had been devastated. He had been sixteen, had been in love with the mother of his child, or at least as “in love” as a teenager could be. But she had been eighteen, it hadn’t technically been legal for them to even be together sexually, and she was lucky she wasn’t thrown in jail for “seducing” the underage prince. She had been ordered to stay away from both Taemin and the child, and while Taemin fully took on the responsibility of raising his son, he had been heart broken that the mother had been ordered away from him.
And Queen Boa, for as lovely and loving as she was to the common people, had practically ostracized both Taemin and Key from the rest of the royal family after Key’s birth. They were given body guards and butlers and maids and a palace to live in, but Taemin had always been the one to make sure his son had a home. Both Taemin’s parents had died when he was young, when he was just ten-years-old, and he had been put into his grandparents’ care. But Queen Boa and her husband were too busy to raise a small child, Taemin was often left unattended at his father’s former estate. The Prince was left alone with nothing but butlers and maids and chefs and chauffeurs, but they weren’t family, they were servants, and for as much as they tried to be the family Taemin lost, it wasn’t the same. Taemin wanted to make sure his son had a family, and if that meant Taemin had to be both mother and father, then so be it. Taemin changed diapers and sang lullabies and played with race cars and dolls. Taemin did everything he asked Key’s nannies to help with. He couldn’t do it all on his own, not at such a young age when the Queen was still demanding he go to school, but he made sure he could do everything any other parent would have to do.
When people started putting together the age Taemin had to have been when Key was born, all hell broke loose. Taemin’s reign as King was questioned, because if a boy could go knock up a girl with such little care or thought, how could he rule a kingdom? And who was the boy’s mother?
When the mother started making a fuss, hell froze over. She was saying that she wanted to see her son, she wanted something to do with his life, wanted to be part of Key’s life. But Taemin said that she all but thrust Key onto him when the boy was born, had given up all rights before the Queen asked her to, and that she had no right to barge into their son’s life now that he was a known Prince.
Taemin was getting shit on from the press and people for his past party boy tendencies, but everyone was very honest about how good of a father he was being. He wasn’t exposing his kid to all the bullshit that was happening, and he was making sure that Key was having fun at kindergarten, and that told the public everything they needed to know about their former party boy prince.
Taemin was a King now, but before that, he was a father, and he took both roles very seriously.
#taemin#key#shinee#wantonewsbabies#it's amazing how decent this is considering how much wine i've had#there's gonna be more there has to be more obvi#gonna be more cute taekey fatherson moments#party prince au
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Hello. I'm sorry, please bear with me, I'm not going to make any sense , as I find it hard to put my thought on to paper. I love your blog. You made me fall in love with Jason and raven. I would have never thought of them together. I'm a sucker for Jason with the kids. I kinda wanted to put in a request but now can't think of any. Anyway I love your writhing and always look forward to when you write something new. Thank you. (Sorry if it's just a bunch of words that don't make sense)
Hello,
You’re thoughts are very well articulated and I’m so happy to hear you enjoy my blog! I know you didn’t put in a request, take your time on that, drop it off when you’re ready and I’ll work on it. In the mean time, you said you like Jason and Kids, and have fallen in love with JayRae so…
Here’s a snippet of an Untitled Hopes for a Bastard story and I hope you enjoy! =)
SPOILERS FOR HOPES FOR A BASTARD AHEAD!!!
Nothingbut a Ghost…
13 Years Earlier…
Hazel eyes watched from above as the spare took place.
The kid had black hair, a white streak, gangly, scrawnyteen, fifteen at most. He was small, under weight and size for sure. Theycalled him Shabh, he was good, a fast learner, vicious little fucker though.
The opponent for the kid today was the American, anAmerican, with blonde hair, blue eyes, brutish features. He was bigger thanShabh, though the boys were roughly the same age he guessed. The Americanthough was a meta, with full use of his brain, enhanced agility, speed,strength, and a healing factor. The American was proving to be the biggestasset from H.I.V.E., but the American was a brute and familiar.
The American was also the best of the apprentices they had,but today he felt would be a true test for the American.
The Demon’s Head had favored the American.
However, the Daughter of the Demon was favoring Shabh.
He glared down at the pit assessing the boys.
“What are you thinking Tiger?” a voice as him which had himglancing over his shoulder at the Dark Archer, who stared listlessly at thepit, there was a devoid of emotion in the Dark Archer. Bronze Tiger sat perchedjust a little ways off.
“American,” he answered. Shabh, for all his skill would nothave the strength or endurance to fight the American. This match would provenothing but what he and the rest of the League of Assassins knew, the Daughterof the Demon was too sentimental. The practical pick was the American, for theboy was stronger, faster, bigger and better.
~~~*~*~*~~~
His hair flopped in his eyes, and he stared across the wayat the American and he felt the familiar, heavy weight of the sword in hishand. The heat was mercilessly beating down on them, and he felt sweat rollingdown his temple as he stared at the other teen. The other teen looked like abrute, way older than he was, about the age of a college freshman which had hiseyes narrowing.
This was Ra’s’ champion.
He could see the appeal, guy was a warrior, and dangerous,and arrogant. The American smiled cruelly, and winds gusted, picking up thedirt.
The American moved, he got a proper hold on the katanna he’dbeen given. The American moved first, closing the distance, he charged to.Metal clanged, and he was hit by the full force of the guy. He went for speedas they rushed each other. His opponent was skilled but showy, he moved justfor killing, no show.
Twisting around he slammed his elbow into the guy’s side andknocked him back a bit and bought himself some breathing room. rushing hisopponent, he snarled a bit as he leapt up, metal clanged as they fought, hetwisted through the air. He landed and twisted as he felt the harsh air slashthrough his hair. There was a slash, he felt the blood the searing pain fromthe slash, as he narrowly evaded the sword for his head. He twisted and ran abit to get some distance between them and the American leapt over him. Henarrowly evaded the sword going for his head as he blocked, defense was hisgame. The American went for his feet which had him scrambling to keep his balancewhen he kicked dirt into the man’s eyes, knocking him back with his knee andlunging with a snarl.
The world took a green haze as he attacked without mercythen.
The blonde stumbled beneath the force of his assault when therewas a loud crack and he gasped as he was knocked sideways and off his feet intothe wall, his ribs were singing. He blearily glared up at a tall middle easternman with hazel eyes.
“Let me finish it!” the American snarled as he came at him,he tried to lunge for the blond but he couldn’t breathe!
“That is enough,” the man who had broken up the fight spoke.
“Yes,” he heard Talia said. “Take him to the healers, I willdeal with him.”
Firm hands hoisted him up and he shoved her off him as hestumbled on his own, there was a blood thirsty fury in him demanding he killthem all, but suddenly the world went black as he felt a sharp prick on hisneck before he collapsed.
~~~*~*~*~~~
Groggily he opened his eyes in his quarters as he winced,moving to sit up he saw Talia sitting at the edge of his bed glaring at him.
“You lost control,” she snapped.
“I was winning!” he growled. Suddenly there was a sharpstinging in his check as a loud smack filled his room. He looked up at her andglared.
“Losing control of the Pit to gain a victory is not winning,it is Suicide!” she snapped. “And you will learn control your you will be putdown.”
“Really? After all the trouble you went through to bring meto life again,” he sneered.
“You are nothing if you cannot control it! It will drownyou, and consume you! Get control!” she hissed before she stormed out and hefell back on his bed. Well… FUCK.
~~~*~*~*~~~
It was hours later when he was wandering the halls, lookingfor an escape, his hood up, his knuckles wrapped, the bruises from today werehealing on their own, and the world had a slightly green tint to his mind. Or atleast he thought it did.
He looked over his shoulder when a sound had his eartwitching, and he shoved his hands in his pockets as he ran a fingerreassuringly over the blade. A startled gasp escaped him as he tripped oversomething that he hadn’t remembered being in his path before he went crashingto the ground and there was an ungodly scream piercing the air. Covering hisears he begged for it to stop as there was this heated rage beneath his skinwhich had him wanting to howl in agony. Slowly pulling himself to his knees hesnatched the thing which was screaming to calm it and himself down.
“Shhh…” he cooed in the small ear as he ran his fingersthrough thick black hair and he felt the tiny form relaxing. “I got you,nothing bad will ever happen to you,” he promised as he pleaded with the kid tostop crying.
At those words the crying ceased, and he peered at the kidin his arms, he looked familiar and severe with those wide, icy blue-emeraldgreen (in no way hazel would be the appropriate way to describe these eyes).The toddler patted his cheek and smiled.
“Hafid!” Hands snatched the kid away from him and a sharpkick had his world going black as he slumped back against the wall.
“Stay away from that monster, he is beneath you!” was thelast thing he heard.
~~~*~*~*~~~
Present Day…
“Miss O’Mara says I’m the smartest in the class!” Terrygrinned as he sat on the passenger’s seat.
“Is that so?” Jason mused. He’d been stuck on kid duty forhis visit, so that meant taking Terry and Damian to school, as Helena was sickshe wasn’t going in today, and Matt was too young for school right now. Damian gloweredin the back seat, the kid being the classic moody teen; Jason was finding thatfunny as fuck.
“Yeah! I even get to go to the zoo! Daddy said so! I did sogood!”
“No shit, you’re a regular genius Terry,” Jason ruffled thekid’s hair.
“Yeah! Oh, did you and Rae make up yet!?”
“Queen and I aren’t fighting,” Jason sighed tiredly.
“Then why she dating this Jeri guy?” Terry demanded.
“Because Jason is a moron!” Damian muttered sourly.
“Because she and I were never together, and she is free todate whomever she pleases,” Jason countered.
“Jay big idiot,” Terry said twisting around to tell Damian that,and Jason groaned at Damian’s superior smirk. For the love of God someone getit through these people’s heads that a guy and girl could be friends!
“He is.”
“See, I smart, if I was big I’d marry Rae Rae!” Terrydecided.
“Oh, would you now jailbait?” Jason mused dryly.
“Yeah! She pretty, she smart, she fun, she cool, Raeperfect! Why aren’t you married!?” Terry demanded.
“Because maybe that’s my business and not yours, duck!” Jasongrinned maliciously at Terry, Damian rolled his eyes. Finally! Silence, he thought as he pulled up to the school and gotout to let Terry and Damian out. Terry clambered out, hugged his waist and ran forthe school and his friends.
“Terry is right, you are an imbecile,” Damian said gettingout of the car.
“Talk to me when you actually get a date,” Jason warned hislittle brother.
“You have been an imbecile for years about this! Now she’sdating a Wilson!” Damian grumbled.
“Hey, shorty, did you ever to stop to think that maybe sheand I don’t want to date and are happy being friends?” Jason asked coldly. Hisyounger brother rolled his eyes and stalked off which had Jason prayingdesperately for patience. He sucked at the good big brother act.
Driving home he got out of the Audi as he walked to thekitchen. The Raven and him thing was fine as it was, and Joseph Wilson treatedRaven like a Queen as far as he knew (and since he had stalked them on dates hewould know!). And if Joseph Wilson broke Raven’s heart then he, Harley, Ivy,and Victor would all be lined up to kick Joe’s ass into the grave. However,Terry, Helena, Mar'i, Lian, and even Matt thinking that he was dating ormarried to Raven wasn’t helping! Lian had kicked Joseph’s shins the other daywhen Joe had shown up to talk to him about getting Raven a gift.
He looked up when Bruce walked in, a crying Matt on hisshoulder.
“Terry and the Demon Spawn are at school,” Jason said as hewalked to the fridge and pulled out orange juice for Matt.
“Duke is coming home for the weekend,” Bruce said tiredly.
“He must be liking Princeton,” Jason said, he kept the envyout of his voice. That was a lifetime ago, and shit happened.
“The funny thing is the dean thought you were her studentthere once, Jason Peters,” Bruce said.
“Do I look like I could get into Princeton?” Jason grinned roguishlyand made a sippy-cup of juice for Matt who looked ready to cry with his unhappiness.
“Jason,” Bruce started.
“Could you get the Duck, and the Demon Spawn to STOPthinking I’m married to Raven, please?” Jason said changing the topic. He hearda set of footsteps coming, and pour another sippy-cup of juice for Helena.
“And what brought that on?” Bruce asked, his amusement clearand Jason glared at his dad as he caught the riot of curls that was HelenaWayne and hoisted her up to his hip.
“Because Terry asked if Raven and I were done fighting and Idon’t remember Rae or I being in a fight,” Jason sighed. “Besides, she’sallowed to date,” he pointed out.
“I don’t think I should get in the middle of this,” Brucesaid.
“Why the fuck not!?” Jason sputtered. Bruce got in themiddle of everything else! Why not an actual problem like this!?
“Because, Terry is right, as is Damian,” Bruce said.
“There is nothing between Raven and me,” Jason defended.There wasn’t! she was the best friend he’d had for years now.
“I saw the aftermath Jason,” Bruce said tiredly.
“Doesn’t prove anything,” he stated haughtily.
“Jason…” Bruce sighed.
“We Are Not Dating, Nor Will We Be Dating!” He growled. Hewasn’t fucking up everything he had with Raven for this to go sideways. Andbesides, if she knew everything about him she’d run as far and as fast away asshe could. They all would.
“Jason, don’t live to regret never acting,” Bruce said.
“You’re just saying that because you danced around marryingSelina for thirty years,” Jason sneered.
“Yes. That’s part of it,” Bruce said. “The other reason is Idon’t want you to be like me, and I don’t want you to have regrets!”
“Regret what? Not fucking up my best relationship because Idon’t act on a possible, unconfirmed attraction to her, or acting on it andfucking it up beyond repair; because I’m King of Fuck Ups B,” Jason snapped. Hedidn’t want to fuck up Raven and his thing.
“Jason,” Bruce sighed.
“Talk to the kids, please!” He said tiredly. Someone get them to stop this, someone get thefamily to stop shoving something that wasn’t there on him. He wasn’t fucking uphis friendship with Raven when she was literally the best damn thing he had inhis life.
“Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“Oh, I’m not regretting this, I’d rather have a friend thana lover,” he assured Bruce. He just didn’t want to lose his best friend.
~~~*~*~*~~~
He watched them from afar, he watched them carefully as heassessed his options.
The League was destroyed.
His father dead.
His revenge squandered.
His leader dead.
And it was all because of Shabh, he would enact his revenge.He would finally show who was better, and he would rebuild the League ofAssassins with it’s true purpose.
But first he’d have to draw Shabh from the shadows…
He watched the pretty little woman on Jericho’s arm as shetalked levelly to the blond. The streets were tranquil.
He’d seen the woman before, with Shabh, and he had seenShabh’s great care for the woman. He could use that to get a ghost to come outto play.
He could finally show who was better! And the world wouldknow, once he had beheaded the infamous Red Hood for them to see. They wouldall see. He was not second best, he was the best.
#bluboothalassophile#spoilers#hopes for a bastard spoilers#fanfic#one shot#jason todd#terry mcginnis#damian wayne#bruce wayne#helena wayne#matt mcginnis#raven#joseph wilson#jerirae#jayrae
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How about something about Gladio and Ignis or other Citadel-related people handling the fact that puberty turned Noctis from a cute kid into a really surprisingly attractive young man?
Author’s Notes: I’m… not sure if this is at all what you wanted? H-haha, sorry. orz Anyway, thank you for the prompt, and sorry this got so long and rambly. ^^
===
Notice
===
Puberty comes late to the crown prince of Lucis. At fifteen, he still looks like a child, with a certain softness to his face and a slenderness to his build.
He tries to beg his way out of school picture day, because he knows well enough that, when he stands beside his classmates, he’ll be shorter than all but a handful.
Then comes sixteen, and with it all the trappings of adulthood. Per the king’s instructions, Ignis begins briefing Noct in more expansive matters of state: in boundary disputes and diplomacy; in civic planning and rules of law.
It’s as though Noct’s body rushes to catch up with the responsibility.
He grows a foot in two months; his limbs take on the gangling, awkward look of adolescent puppies. He has to be measured for an entire new wardrobe, and then another, several months after that.
Ignis notes the razor that rests by the bathroom sink now, a point of pride, though he doubts that Noct has much call to use it. He notes the frequency with which the maids have to change His Highness’ sheets, and he sighs, reminds himself of the hormone-driven days he was more than happy to leave behind, and sits Noctis down for the most embarrassing conversation that he has ever had call to engage in with another human being.
It lasts for half an hour. It focuses primarily on responsibilities, and the importance of maintaining the royal lineage. It covers the unpleasant effects of certain sexually transmitted diseases, and what measures should be taken in order to avoid scandal.
It ends with Noctis in possession of a box of condoms.
It ends with the knowledge that Noct can turn that peculiar shade of dahlia pink, heretofore unseen.
===
The damn kid has a fan club.
Gladio’s not sure when it happened, but hell if it isn’t the funniest thing he’s ever heard.
Iris comes home from school one day, all worked up about it, and Gladio knows by now exactly which way to prod to get his sister to talk about whatever she’s excited about. She’s bad at hiding it; that’s just the kind of person she is. If she’s into something, it comes bubbling up out of her.
So he prods, and she begs off answering, and then two hours later, she comes back around while Gladio’s reading in his father’s study. She sits herself down on the couch, and she says, “I wasn’t the one who started it,” and Gladio feels his eyebrow go up.
Iris launches into a tale of intrigue and betrayal, one that ends with two of the most popular girls at their school founding the Prince Noctis Fan Club.
And what else was she going to do? She has to keep an eye on them, to make sure they’re not doing anything that’ll be bad for Noct’s good name. So she joined, too. She might not be first in line to be Shield, but she can shield the prince from some things, at least.
Gladio tells her that she did the right thing.
He agrees that it’s best she keep tabs on membership, for Noct’s sake.
He sees her to the door, and he closes it behind her, and he sits back down with his book.
Then he laughs so hard tears roll down his cheeks, and bites his thumb to keep from being loud about it.
And when Iris’ class comes to the Citadel on their field trip, he cajoles Noct into playing tour guide.
===
Noct’s new apartment looks like a space that can be lived in, finally.
The cardboard boxes scattered haphazardly across the floor have long been unpacked. Their contents fill the shelves. Ignis saw to most of it, fiddling with considerations such as convenience and aesthetics, while Noct played games on his sofa.
That’s months in the past, now. On the occasions when the space is clean, it actually looks quite nice.
The young man that stands in the center of it, in his trim black suit and sloppy tie, looks at home here. It’s done Noct a world of good, getting some space for himself outside the Citadel.
The new living arrangements come with several specific unfortunate downsides, however. Among them: the time between coaxing Noctis from bed and him walking through the door to the Council’s chamber has dramatically increased.
Ignis glances him over, with a critical eye.
He looks half awake, still. His hair has been gelled, but there’s a certain sloppiness to the way it’s been teased into its peaks and valleys. His face is washed, but the concealer and eyeliner the prince sometimes takes pains to apply is conspicuously absent, abandoned in favor of a few more minutes in bed. The tie knotted at his throat, a beautiful silken blue, looks as though it’s been arranged by a five year old.
“Honestly, Noct,” says Ignis, and steps forward to straighten it up.
His fingers slide against the silk; his touches are brisk and businesslike. But he’s aware of Noct’s eyes on him, that curious shade of night-sky blue. He’s aware of long lashes that truly don’t need the help of the eyeliner. He’s aware of the way Noct’s lips curve up at the corner into a smile, fond and familiar.
Suddenly, Ignis isn’t certain when the chubby toddler he played with as a child turned into this young man before him, who looks every inch the dashing prince from the pages of a fairy tale.
“You do it better, anyway,” says Noct.
Ignis steps back and admires his handwork; the tie is crisp and even, and Noctis looks very much the young gentleman.
“There,” he says. “That will serve.”
It will more than serve.
His Highness has a photo shoot for a popular girl’s magazine next week. Ignis makes a mental note to ensure they fit this tie into the wardrobe.
It complements the blue of Noct’s eyes quite nicely, indeed.
===
They’re in the middle of training when Noct loses the shirt.
Gladio doesn’t blame him; it’s hot as hell, and they’ve been going at it for damn near an hour and a half. He stripped out of his own at the start of the session, and he’s still sweating buckets.
But Noct hardly ever ditches his.
If Gladio had to guess, he’d say it probably has something to do with the mess of a scar halfway down the kid’s back. It’s pretty badass, honestly, but he there’s no telling what’ll set someone off.
Whatever the reason, Noct keeps the shirt on, most days. He hasn’t taken it off in training for – hell, probably almost four years now.
He was a scrawny scrap of a thing, last time Gladio saw him without it, but those days, it looks like, are long in the past.
He’s filled out, that’s for sure. The shoulders are broader, and the abdomen is all lean muscle. However much Gladio gets on him to lay off the pizza, he doesn’t need to. Sure, he’s not ripped. Gladio knows for damn sure he can bench press four times what Noct can pull off, easy.
But Noct’s trained in just about every weapon in the armory, and it shows. He’s built like a gymnast, all sleek power.
It’s a good look on him. No wonder his fan club’s having its three year anniversary next week.
When Noct glances up and catches him looking, Gladio gives an unimpressed snort.
“Gonna have to step up arm day,” he says. “Can’t have the crown prince flexing with those noodle arms.”
“Noodle arms,” says Noct. “Right.” There’s a flash of blue, and the biggest great sword in the Armiger flickers to life in his hands. It’s as long as Noct is. When they started, he could barely lift it, but now he falls into his stance, massive blade out before him, head tipped up in challenge. “That sounds to me like an invite to knock you on your ass.”
Gladio feels himself grinning. He calls up his own sword in one hand – uses the other to crook his fingers, the world’s universal come-get-some gesture. “Bring it, princess. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
===
The Accordan ambassador is tall and amiable, and entirely too familiar with the prince.
At dinner, he’s seated to Noct’s left, and he spends the meal leaning in closer than is proper. After, he blames the drink; Lucian wine, he claims, is far more powerful than what he’s grown accustomed to.
Ignis, who counts himself something of an expert on vintages, knows very well that the alcohol content from most Accordan wines is much higher, but for propriety’s sake, he presses his lips together and says nothing.
After the meal, King Regis and his son retire to the lounge to entertain the visiting diplomat. There are certain concessions in the upcoming trade deal that His Majesty hopes to lay the groundwork for, off the books.
Ignis won’t be needed for the remainder of the evening. He’s free to retire to his own quarters, and nothing pressing requires his attention. It could be one of those rare few early nights, if he so chooses.
Instead, he lingers in the grand hall, seating himself where the tour groups pass to and fro, during daylight hours. Now, the there are no curious eyes about to see the sights. Now, the Citadel is nearly empty.
He’s not certain what he’s waiting for.
He idles there far longer than he can excuse as fancy, tapping notes to himself neatly into his phone for tomorrow’s meetings, for want of anything better to do.
That’s where Gladiolus finds him. The man’s in a suit, hair slicked back. He had a tie at one point, but it’s been removed from its spot around his neck, crammed into a pocket haphazardly.
“What,” says Gladio, slowing to a stop before him. “You don’t have anywhere else to be?”
“Not at the moment,” says Ignis, primly, and taps in the last of his notes before looking up.
Gladio sprawls onto the bench without waiting to be invited, legs spread casually in the manner of ill-behaved thirteen-year-old boys. Ignis spares him a lingering glance.
“Never seen you not in a rush to do something or other,” says Gladio, bemused.
“There’s nothing wrong with keeping a tight schedule.” Ignis adjusts his glasses, though truth be told they don’t need it. “What of yourself? It isn’t like you to linger after hours.”
Gladio lifts one big shoulder and lets it fall. “What, can’t a guy feel like hanging around?”
It would be hypocritical for Ignis to argue the point, and so he doesn’t. He only opens up a new document for his three o'clock with the minister of finance and begins tapping in something new.
He’s written barely two words when his phone buzzes.
It’s a text from Noct, and it reads, “you still around?”
Ignis replies immediately: “I am.”
There is a moment’s pause, during which Ignis pretends to add to his notes but makes no alterations of any value. Then a new text arrives. “can you come here pls.”
He’s on his feet before he’s finished reading, turning toward the elevator that leads up to the higher-security levels of the Citadel.
Gladio says, “What’s the rush?”
And Ignis, thoughts on the Accordan ambassador blaming the wine, says, “Noct,” and his tone is a bit tighter than he intended.
Perhaps Gladio can read his inflection. Perhaps his posture, more closed off than usual, gives him away.
But Gladiolus is on his feet an instant later, falling into step beside Ignis as he makes for the elevator. “On my way,” Ignis taps into his phone, as the doors slide closed behind him.
They arrive at the king’s lounge barely five minutes later. Ignis knocks on the door, brisk and businesslike, and calls out, “Highness?” in a voice loud enough to be audible through the elaborate paneled wood.
There’s a pause, and then Noct opens the door.
He’s decidedly more disheveled than he was half an hour ago. His hair is askew, and the knot of his tie is sloppy. But more than that, his eyes are flat and guarded, in the way they get when he’s upset about something.
Ignis takes in the scene: a room empty of King Regis, empty of anyone else save the Accordan ambassador leaning casually back against the couch, a glass of half-drunk scotch in his hand. His face is redder than it was before, and he looks a touch disheveled, as well.
And Noct. Noct catches at Ignis’ cuff and stares up at him, and then toward Gladio, standing there in the hall. His grip is too tight, and his fingers are trembling.
That tells Ignis all he needs to know.
“Terribly sorry,” says Ignis. “I’m afraid the Council has announced an emergency meeting. His Highness is required elsewhere.”
Then he holds the door wide and says, “Gladiolus, if you’d be so kind as to see the ambassador out?”
He doesn’t think he imagines the way Gladio’s eyes linger on Noct. He doesn’t think he imagines the tightness in the man’s jaw. “With pleasure,” says Gladio, grimly.
“Highness,” says Ignis. “Shall we? The timeline is rather pressing, I’m afraid.”
Noct nods, and lets go of Ignis’ sleeve. He says, “Lead the way.”
He follows Ignis out into the hall, toward the Council chamber. They walk in silence until they reach the first turn in the hallway. Then Ignis changes his route, circling back around to veer toward the Citadel’s private suites.
It takes them just shy of five minutes to reach Noct’s old room. It’s maintained in his absence, for when an official function runs late and he wishes to stay over instead of returning to his apartment.
He stands there in the doorway, looking somewhat harrowed, until Ignis says, “If he tries to reschedule, I’ll shift his appointments around until his ship sails. After he’s safely off our shores, the authorities in Accordo will receive a request for a new representative.”
“Thanks,” says Noct. He swallows. “My dad had to beg off. His leg gets bad, you know? But I thought, it’s just groundwork, right? I’m okay at negotiating.”
Ignis waits for the rest. He hopes that Gladio was rather less gentle than usually warranted, in seeing the ambassador out.
When the silence stretches too long, Noct says, “He got kinda handsy. I would’ve punched him out, only I thought dad wouldn’t appreciate a diplomatic incident.”
Ignis feels a strange swell in his chest at the words. He says, “The right ties in the Accordan media make certain diplomatic incidents all but disappear, you’ll find. As it so happens, I have the right ties in the Accordan media.”
“So you’re saying I should have punched him out.”
“I’m saying,” says Ignis, tone more fierce than intended, “that it would have been no more than he deserved.”
Noct thaws a little, then. The guardedness slips from his eyes, and from his posture. He looks like he means to reply, but Ignis’ phone buzzes before he can. “Go on,” says Noct. “It’s probably Gladio.”
It is, in fact, Gladio.
“How is he?” the text reads. “Does this guy need to accidentally fall down the stairs before I cut him loose?”
Ignis stifles a smile. “Your Shield,” he says, “is considering something of a diplomatic incident of his own.”
Noct leans over to look, with a huff of something very nearly a laugh. “Call him off. And tell him I’m fine.”
Ignis taps his reply into the phone and then slides it into his pocket again. “Are you?” he says, when he looks up.
“I am,” says Noct. But the longer Ignis stares, frank and even, the less Noct seems able to meet the gaze. “I just didn’t expect it, you know?”
Ignis takes a breath in and lets it out slowly. It’s a rhetorical question, but he finds himself answering, anyway. “Nor should you have had to.”
They stand there for a moment, in silence. At last, Noct says, “Thanks, Specs.”
“I would say any time,” says Ignis, “but frankly, I’m hoping we’ve never cause for a repeat occurrence.”
Noct smiles, wry and crooked. “You and me both.” He turns from the door, toward the couch where he used to play video games at twelve years of age, and sits himself down on the indent that still indicates his favorite spot. “Hey,” he says, almost as though it’s an afterthought. “You mind giving me a ride home, when we get out of here?”
“Not at all,” says Ignis. “Although I suspect we’d best wait for Gladio. Unless I miss my guess, he’ll be along shortly.”
Gladio is along shortly, and he brings with him some choice words about the Accordan ambassador’s parentage. Ignis adds a few thoughts of his own, decidedly less crude but every bit as cutting.
By the time they see Noct from the building, through the meandering back hallways of the Citadel and into the private attached garage, that shaken, uncertain look has been chased from his face entirely.
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