Everywhere But Home
Author's Note
After the Anti-Ecto Acts go into law, Jazz and Danny decide that he's no longer safe in Amity Park. Because of the laws going to place in both the USA and Canada, Jazz convinces Danny to Flee the continent entirely.
With no home safe enough to return to, Danny travels the world, meeting new people, discovering new things, learning more than any classroom could ever teach him.
Danny doesn't let himself hope that he'll ever be able to return home. Though, maybe, just maybe, traveling as he is will allow him to hope again.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Wild never bathes in tubs. He only ever washes in open water. However, with him incredibly ill, the chain decides to cool him off in the inn bathtub. It doesn’t go well.
Set in @mirensiart's pain-sharing au
inspired by a comment by @eldritchsteamhearted
Link and snippet below the cut
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Wild was ill and he wasn’t getting better.
Legend had gotten bored of his mending and embroidery on the second day. The rest had gotten tired of the finger pricks when he misjudged where his needle was even sooner, not that he’d heeded their complaints.
Now, on the eve of the third day, Legend had mended and embroidered just about everything of his that he could, and he was debating insisting that Warriors hand him his scarf (honestly, it could probably use some protective embroidery — it was a miracle a monster hadn’t used it to strangle him yet).
Apart from using his needle and thread, Legend had participated in games (mostly card, mostly started by Wind), sang songs with the others (largely led by Wind), and listened to Wind tell stories. The kid had looked ready to vibrate out of the room day one, and Legend was honestly kind of impressed he hadn’t exploded something yet. It was amazing how much harder being trapped in a small room with everyone else was, compared to travelling. It wasn’t any different than when they had to make camp for a few days, and yet it felt so much worse.
That was probably the second worst part — not being able to leave. The inn owner had ‘politely’ asked Time to not let anyone leave the room, so as to not spread the illness. It wasn’t unreasonable, and the owner had even brought them food and supplies, but the room was not big enough to support nine people at once.
The worst part, of course, was that Wild had gone from bad to worse while they stayed here. A doctor had been sent for, but the only thing they could offer had been advice for keeping the fever down. There hadn’t been some quick potion that Wild could drink where he’d be up to his usual antics by evening. Instead, he had to fight it off himself, and he was losing.
Sweet little thing ~ Bunny hybrid yandere (Milo) x reader
Word count: 3798
CW: NSFW, dub-con, slight(?) somno, mentions of stalking, brief mention of self harm, violence, & of course Milo being super obsessive and delusional.
MDNI Please!
GN Reader!!
Soft and fluffy. The feeling spread throughout your fingers while you attempted to touch the little creature injured in front of you. A rabbit. They seemed to have little scratches along their body, poor thing. Its bright blue eyes looked back into yours, as if it was pleading for something. You had been considering getting a pet recently, just to fill the emptiness of your home. You were more so thinking along the lines of a cat or maybe a dog, but looking at the wounded hare quickly gave you a change of heart. Not wanting to scare the rabbit, you held your hand out for it, hoping to take it to some sort of vet soon. Though it was late..it was doubtful that any veterinary clinic would be open by now. The soft sensations in your hand returned as the tiny rabbit jumped onto your hand, filling up your palm.
You took your time going back home, keeping the bunny close to you. It didn’t try to jump out of your arms, so you assumed it was content. After you had gotten home, one striking detail you had barely noticed before was the color of its fur. Pink. A soft, pastel like pink. It wasn’t just a pink splotch or two, the whole bunny was pink. That couldn’t have been natural. Maybe it just needed a bath..it did have a good bit of blood from it’s wounds. But it couldn’t have been that hurt? Could it? The newfound thought urged you to tend to it.
Grabbing a spare blanket, you make a cozy space for your new pet. The bunny didn’t move when you lowered your hands to the blanket, though after tilting your hands towards it, the bunny seemed to get the hint and hop down. You moved your hand to pet along its back before going down to your kitchen to roam around for some bunny safe food. From a quick internet search you found that vegetables are okay for bunnies to eat as long as it’s in moderation. You’d have to get some hay in the morning. Though it was adorable watching the bunny eat up the chopped vegetables you prepared.
You brought the bunny and its new blanket to your room, setting them both down on your sink counter. You tried your best to gently wash the bunny and wrap its wounds, well as much as you could with the bunny kept skittering around. It was difficult with it moving around so much..as an attempt to help it calm down, once you had ensured to have its head cleaned enough you leaned down and gave it a gentle kiss. That seemed to calm it down, so much so it stayed still in your hands, its head moving all around to survey the environment. You’d keep trying to mumble small reassurances and praise, even if it couldn’t understand you, something you were doing was working, seeing as it didn’t move away from you once afterwards. After hastily finishing up, you gave it another kiss as a reward.
You moved the bunny on a towel, now bringing it over to your bedroom. You set it down on your nightstand, running your finger down its back before climbing into bed yourself. You’d have to think for a name for it..though that was something for the morning. As you drifted off, you kept your eyes on your new little friend, happy you can be the one to give it the home it deserves.
As you slept soundly, the bunny never looked away from you. The bunny..or Milo had been watching you for some time admittedly, not that you ever seemed to notice. Or maybe you did. Maybe you liked that they never let you out of his sights. Why else would you never say anything and always go in the perfect spots for him to find you in? It was easy to play a cute, helpless bunny who needed some help. And the best part? You took such good care of them! You had to have known. You have to love them just as much as they love you! Milo had never been so cared for. He hurt himself just for this moment! He knew it’d all be worth it, feeling your kisses and pets that made him want to jump for joy. They’ll love you forever and ever. Milo hopped from their towel, now laying next to you. The weight on the mattress grew significantly. Where there was once a bunny was now a person.
Milo loved how peaceful you looked, admiring just how cute you were.. They wished they could kiss all over your face like you did to them. His heart wouldn’t stop racing. He was oh so close to you, he could crawl on top of you, touch you all over, and you wouldn’t have the slightest clue. The thought itself made his cheeks grow pink, matching his hair and fur. Imagining their lips on yours, forcing you to breathe his air, maybe even kissing you until you felt lightheaded. After that, they could run their hands down your body, admiring every inch and curve. He’d worship your body like it was the very culmination of the universe itself. He’d brush his fingers along your thighs, touching you until you couldn’t do anything but moan.. maybe even beg for more. They spend so long fantasizing about how cute your voice would be if it was only used to make noises for them.
Though another part of them pouted in knowing you wouldn’t be awake for any of it. He wanted you to feel every moment of them using your body for pleasure. Thrusting inside and fully being connected to you, just the thought made them hard. It was so tempting that Milo started to feel dizzy. Milo sighed softly, pushing himself to lean into your face. Your lips looked so soft, he was so close. He could imagine you moaning around his fingers as he shoved them down your throat, making your eyes roll. Their smile never left their lips, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. After that Milo curled up against you, nuzzling into your chest and closing his eyes. He wanted to stay here forever, neither of you ever to leave and no one to ever come in. That’s all they’d ever want.
By the time you woke up, you glanced down and saw the little bunny you picked up huddled up to your chest. When did they get there? You’re relieved you didn’t accidentally roll over on them.
You began to go out and buy everything your new pet would ever need. Despite only a few days passing, your little bunny would huddle close and snuggle all the time. He never wanted to be far from you. You never knew bunnies could be so cuddly, but you found it endearing. Most of the time anyways. They did typically refuse to sleep in their bed or cage, always opting to sleep next to you. Even after you try to move them back, they somehow found a way back to you. Sometimes it does cause trouble, especially since coincidentally he tends to cling on anytime you’re trying to leave the house. It was a hassle, but you’re still happy you kept them.
It was all fine. Just fine. You had met someone new at work. He was sweet, and you both usually hung out together with some other coworkers. However recently you and he had been spending time together on your own. It was casual meet ups, but recently you both started to throw back some simple flirting comments or romantic gestures. One day, you had mentioned you finally began paying for a streaming service, but weren’t sure which shows you should start out of the various ones that interested you. Your coworker smiled and offered to give you some recommendations, maybe he could come over so you both could watch them together. Of course he assured you there was no pressure and he could come up with a list by the end of your shift, but you were quick to agree to his offer. It sounded like fun, and you were pretty sure this man wasn’t any sort of psycho. He again repeated that you could deny him at any point, but you were sure. It would be a fun night. Maybe the two of you could get even closer.
The two of you drove home in your car, talking about some shows that may go along with both of your interests. You had mentioned some popcorn you could make, as well as whatever refreshments you could remember having in your kitchen. It was only when you opened the door and your little bunny jumped up on your leg did you remember you forgot to mention them. Picking your bunny up, you mentioned this was your pet. You introduced your coworker to your bunny, and he found them adorable. He reached out to rub their back after asking for permission, but to your surprise they bit him. Not just a normal bite..it sunk its teeth as far as possible, managing to break skin and draw the tiniest bit of blood. It didn’t want to let go, even after you tried to pull it away, your coworker winced and pulled his hand away, causing your bunny to hang from his finger, falling onto the floor before you could grab him again. You quickly crouched down, picking your bunny up and holding him close.
You apologized profusely to your coworker, surprised seeing as you’ve never seen your bunny be anything but a sweetheart. Your coworker shook his head and assured you it was fine, he probably startled them. No serious harm done. Though he certainly did keep a distance from your bunny now. Per usual, your bunny started to nuzzle against you, but the moment you tried to put them down, they went crazy. Squealing and trying to crawl back up your arm. This hasn’t happened before, but you figured it might’ve been due to getting scared. There was an unfamiliar person here after all. You held your bunny in your arms as you went to the bathroom, telling your coworker to get comfy on the couch and to look for the show you both had talked about. You made sure to get some band-aids, giving one to your coworker. Your bunny was growling as you reached out to hand it to him. Your coworker joked that they must not like him very much, though it was more of an obvious observation.
You ran your fingers along your bunny’s back, placing a gentle kiss on his head. That seemed to work, like always. You kept your bunny on the counter as you prepared some snacks, getting a bowl of popcorn and among other treats. You didn’t quite notice your bunny’s newfound silence. You didn’t even notice when he hopped off the counter and disappeared around the corner. Right into the living room.
While microwaving the popcorn, you heard a shriek followed by several bangs. It sounded like something colliding together..or falling on something. You called out to your coworker, asking if he was okay, but you were already going back to the living room to look. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it was anything but this. There was another man in your house. Past this stranger, you could only see your coworker’s lower half, but judging from the blood that was splattered on the floor, walls, and your couch..you might’ve been glad you couldn’t see his upper half. You screamed, at least you think you screamed, you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear much except a ringing in your ears. The world fell silent to you. Nothing felt real, you couldn’t even move. Not even when the other man turned around to look at you. Blood on their hands and chest, a little on his face..fluffy, pink hair, blue eyes, light skin..and being completely naked save for the blanket meant for your bunny that you kept in the living room. Oh god..your bunny. Did he kill your bunny too?? Is he going to kill you? Of course he is- why wouldn’t he? You had to get out of there. You were going to die if you didn’t. Though suddenly you felt hands, their hands, on your face, the blood smearing on your cheeks. The man..looked happy. It was only now you noticed the figure didn’t have ears, not like normal ears, but instead long, pink fur that went down to their hips. The fur matched the color of their hair. What even were they? You couldn’t think properly, everything was happening far too quickly. You had to get away, you had to-
Soft, no longer fluffy. You felt the stranger’s lips on yours, even as your eyes widened, your muscles tensing, everything felt..warm. Familiar, in a strange sense. No. This wasn’t right. Your panic began to drive your body, suddenly using all of your force to push this stranger away. It worked, for just a moment. Though the stranger then clung onto you, wrapping their arms around your neck and holding there. No matter what you did, they never let go. You felt his lips again, you tried to shake your head. It was all a futile effort. This stranger overpowered you. When he finally stopped kissing you, he smiled. “You’re so cute..even when you’re scared! You never fail to do anything besides being absolutely perfect!!”
What? You had no idea what he was saying, but then your feet were off the ground. He picked you up. You tried everything in your power, kicking him, hitting him, punching. They never seemed disturbed in the slightest. Every time you tried to scream they would trap you in another kiss. “Oh honey, don’t worry! I won’t hurt you, I could never hurt you.” They spoke as if there wasn’t a dead man in the living room. You were pushed down onto your bed as they crawled on top of you. No, this couldn’t be happening. You didn’t want this. You fought and yelled and did anything to try and deter him. You called him insane, a freak. That seemed to make them pause. They straddled your hips, sitting on top of you. He looked into your eyes, their own almost filled with tears. “What..? You couldn’t have forgotten about me! I thought you loved me!!” You had to have been dreaming, this was all some morbid dream. “You said you loved me! You kissed me all the time!! I love your kisses.. I just wanted to give you kisses too! I always wanted to!!” Kisses? You’ve never- “You took me in!! You cared for me, kissed me, cuddled with me, you made me happy!! You still do. I just want to repay all of that!! After all, we’re meant to be soulmates!!” Your head spun, this was impossible.. though your eyes settled back on the fur.. ears. You didn’t have much mind to question them before, but in this moment.. all you could focus on were those ears. “I’m yours.. I thought you wanted to be mine too.. isn’t that how this works? I couldn’t let someone else take you away! We’re the only ones for each other, no one else is allowed here.” Your bunny.. this was.. your bunny.
Milo smiled warmly, seeing your face of confusion. You had calmed down. This was good! You couldn’t have forgotten about them already. While you were lost in thought, your arms falling on the mattress, no longer trying to push Milo away. He took that as an invitation, now leaning down to continue kissing you. This was a dream come true! They weren’t sure when they were going to make themselves known to you, they didn't want to scare you! At least not that much. But they had no choice! Who knows what that filthy man would’ve done with you..it was his own fault for being with you when you were already owned by another. But it’s all okay now. Now, Milo could do everything he had been craving for far too long. He could do it all, and now there’s nothing stopping them! He cupped your face, their bloodied hands so gentle with you. Milo didn’t wait any longer, they bit down against your bottom lip, a notion that made your body jolt. They took the chance to slip their tongue into your mouth, their body relaxing against yours. You wanted to say something, do something, but your attempt at words were all muffled. It was all pointless.
Milo’s hands were quick to wander, wanting to explore every single inch of your body. His hands moved down to your hips, running along the bridge in between your shirt and pants, brushing along your soft skin. You felt their warm hands move up, going under your shirt. All you could do was try to grab his hands, but nothing seemed to stop them. You almost felt a little ashamed when you let a moan slip. The thought of you having to moan into his mouth drove Milo wild. His hands ran along your side, your chest, your stomach. Anywhere he could touch he went after. He even went after your nipples, circling around the buds before squeezing against them. Not hard, but it was enough to make your body jump and make more noises against his lips. It was hard to breathe..Milo seemed to have the same problem, but he didn’t let up. Not until you felt your vision blur, it was right then they leaned back up, moving down to kiss along your neck. “I’ve been waiting for so long..this is even better than I thought. You’re perfect dear, so perfect. Let’s stay here together forever.”
Your mind felt hazy, it was hard to think properly, and Milo seemed to have noticed. They leaned down to kiss you once more. “Don’t worry darling, I’ll take care of everything.” Their voice was soft, sweet. A voice that could make anyone melt. It almost made you want to melt too.
Milo was fast to grow tired of your clothes, looking up at you with the sweetest pleading eyes, “I’m gonna make you feel good, so what happens to these doesn’t matter right?” Though they didn’t wait for much of an answer before they tore through your shirt, leaning down to kiss and nibble along your exposed chest. They’d drag their tongue along your chest, moving to one of your nipples and sucking against it. Every noise you made only encouraged them further, their hands moving onto the waist of your pants. Just like your shirt, they were ripped off. None of your clothes remained. None of it could keep Milo away from you. He touched and groped along your waist, your thighs, your ass. Everything. You were even more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined. He wanted to own every single little part of you just like he wanted you to own every little bit of him. His fingers began to brush against your most sensitive area, rubbing against them while letting their blanket fall. They didn’t have any clothes to begin with, and that made this perfect!
He was already so hard for you, pre-cum leaking from the tip. Their face was pink and hot, their hands almost shaking from excitement. They could finally have you! This was perfect. They hardly wanted to wait long enough to prep you.. you should be ready for them, right? You’re soulmates after all! Without a second thought Milo positioned themselves properly against your hole, grabbed your hips, and pushed you down on their dick, causing you to cry out. Their hands quickly moved up to hold both of yours, a gesture of love. Getting to hold your hands while they fucked you, something like a story of true love and romance! But to you it only felt like it trapped you more, you couldn’t do anything aside from lay there and dig your fingers into their knuckles.
You felt heavenly, no other feeling could compare to how it felt to be inside of you. Even with how much Milo would masterbate above you while you slept, even using your thighs to get himself off one night..it was nothing compared to this. Milo couldn’t help themselves, with only a moment of pause, Milo began to thrust feverishly into you. It felt like he needed this more than anything, they began to rail into you like their life depended on it. Every moan and cry was like music to their ears, playing the sweetest of melodies that Milo never wanted to let go of. They laid down against you, trapping you more. Their hips never lose their rhythm. They may have been desperate, but they knew exactly what they were doing. Every single thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Pleasure you’ve never felt before. You couldn’t do anything but squirm and whine. And that’s all Milo wanted. They wanted to make you think of nothing but them, they could fuck you for eternity if that ensured that. They’d know tons of ways to make sure you enjoyed it, leaving you empty headed and a complete mess. Forever bound to be their mess.
Leaning back down to kiss you once more, their movement grew faster, giving you no time to even think properly. Your body gradually gave in to them, much to Milo’s excitement. Their hand moved down, starting to touch and rub against your own sensitive place, making sure to stimulate you in any way possible. Even after you tried to whine that you were close, Milo only kissed you more. Milo didn’t stop. Not even for a moment. You could hardly handle the onslaught of pleasure, quickly coming undone at their hands. It was exhilarating seeing you start to unfold in front of him. You felt exhausted, though Milo still wouldn’t stop. You’d cry and whimper but Milo would shush you, their hand stroking your cheek. Their touch was so gentle compared to how rough they fucked you. “Don’t worry dear, just lay back and relax. Don’t think about anything, nothing at all. It’ll be okay. Just let me make you feel good for a little while longer.” You couldn’t even make out the words to argue, your vision started to blur and the room spun. Even after your consciousness started to slip, Milo seemed unwavering.
“You’re all mine, all mine and mine forever. I’ll never let you go, you’ll be so much happier with me, I promise ♡”
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: KPop Demon Hunters (2025)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Mira/Rumi/Zoey (KPop Demon Hunters)
Characters: Mira (KPop Demon Hunters), Zoey (KPop Demon Hunters), Rumi (KPop Demon Hunters)
Additional Tags: Omegaverse, A/B/O, Omega!Mira, Omega!Rumi, Alpha!Zoey, Mutual Pining, Established Mira/Zoey (KPop Demon Hunters), Emotionally Repressed Rumi, Trans Mira (KPop Demon Hunters), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, idiots to lovers, Nesting, non-sexual heat, that might change but if it does i will add cuts and update the tags accordingly, we can have a little beta as a treat, Happy Ending, i may have to add an angst tag later but the happy ending tag is my promise to yall no matter what
Summary:
Mira and Zoey have known for almost as long as they've been Huntr/x that they were each others. They've also known that Rumi was theirs as well, if she'd have them. Rumi has known for an equal amount of time that she never gets the things, or people, that she wants.
With an idol career to develop, a Honmoon to turn gold, and an elephant of emotions and longing in the room, the trio attempt to navigate this unspoken thing that existed amongst them but each party refuses to be the one that blinks first.
A story of first times, understanding, and acceptance.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Added my little short I did for @nyxaffixed Wedding Bells AU.
I loved their theories and world building so much.
I added a little intro and fixed some typos and wording since I had written the whole thing on mobile and my rambling plus autocorrect gets in the way of what the feeling was.
Tell me, then, how to share a heart that must ache
Because I feel like it, shares a ficlet I wrote some time ago for my beloved friend for our beautiful AU that we've been ill about for the past months, wherein Ramattra and Hanzo meet at some point after Ramattra leaves the Shambali, but before the formation of Null sector, and the two travel the world together for some time before parting ways due to circumstance
pairings: Left vague, but implications of Ramyatta and Ramzo, with a focus on Hanzo from Ramattra's perspective
word count: 1517
A conversation between Ramattra and Zenyatta, taking some time after Null Sector's Invasion, regarding the situation between himself and Hanzo.
The question arrived on the dawn of the spring's equinox. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Zenyatta had chosen the day on purpose. As much as Zenyatta was averse to metaphors, Ramattra knew intimately that the omnic happily indulged in his fair share of poetics. Especially when it was to make a point.
“He is important to you.”
It was said as an observation, not a question. Neither of them required clarification to who the 'him' in question was, and yet Zenyatta deigned to provide one anyway, as silence lingered for moment too long.
“Genji’s brother, Hanzo Shimada.”
“He—”
He doesn’t enjoy that. Shimada.
Ramattra stopped the words from falling out, fingers twitching from where they rested in meditative pose at his need for correction. He hesitated and, briefly, he considered lying. Avoid the topic for fear of what it could entail, return them instead to the idyllic nothings they had been exchanging mere moments ago before the lull in their conversation had given Zenyatta his opening.
He could, the temptation fleeting, yet he knew he wouldn’t. It had only been a matter of time, and he was not fool enough to believe he could hide his heart from Zenyatta. The world? Unquestionably. But not Zenyatta. Never Zenyatta.
Letting out a quiet, resigned, sigh, Ramattra gave the answer they both already knew.
“Yes,” his voice quiet, tinted with static. A confession, “I suppose he is.”
He paused, a moment of contemplation. Part of him felt… uncertain. His trust in Zenyatta ran deep, he knew there was no reason for him to feel so tense. Perhaps it was only natural, It would be the first time he’d been asked such a thing so directly.
Even between Hanzo and himself, it had all simply... happened. They had never truly discussed the nature of their situation. There had been no need to, when their eyes had been on each other and the horizon before them, ignorant to how each step brought them closer towards cliff's edge.
It was unfamiliar, trying to say with words that which they had only ever said with actions.
“Genji has told me much about Hanzo. Your paths have a number of similarities,” Zenyatta eventually continued as silence stretched, gentle as he could be with his words. An effort Ramattra was grateful for, as much as it sickened him with shame, “And yet... I would not have expected it. Especially considering his attempt on your life.”
That caught his attention. Ramattra's head snapped up away from his hands to meet Zenyatta's gaze.
“How—”
He bit down his words and the tremor of bitterness threatening to encroach into the conversation, if it had been Zenyatta's… student, who told him of such detail. As much as he wished to avoid questioning, the day had been pleasant. He did not wish to ruin it further when he had already ruined so much when it came to Zenyatta.
Ultimately, however the other knew of that particularity held no real importance, and if the need rose, there would be time for to ask later. Letting out a small huff and forcing away the tension that'd spiked within him, Ramattra averted his optics once more, mind turning towards the past instead.
“Make no mistake, it'd hardly been in my expectations, either,” he allowed his tone to go wry, faint trace of amusement finding its way into his words, “It hadn’t occurred to me that it could even be a possibility until long after it had already happened.”
Perhaps that was exactly it had happened. It was such a ludicrous idea, for him to have grown... for him to have found companionship in the human, that Ramattra hadn't been unable to to defend himself from it, the lack of foresight voiding any chance for preparation.
“In hindsight, the transition from him being merely some human, to…” his voice softened without his awareness, laced with unspoken thoughts he himself would fail to understand, “Hanzo, was so unremarkably mundane, it took some time for the significance of it to process.”
More accurately, he had not allowed himself to process it, as if avoiding its mention, avoiding pointing out each time where Hanzo took a step closer and each time where Ramattra had allowed him, would have preserved the peace they'd somehow carved out in an unforgiving world.
It wouldn't have been until much later, as he attempted to rip each trace of it out his chest, did he allow himself to realize how fool he had been.
He had been a fool, yet he knew it could have very well been worse had he dared to bring light it. Like this, they could at least pretend to others it had never happened. Like this, the world could remain ignorant. Like this, Hanzo could be safe.
“You... speak of him with familiarity,” there was hesitation in Zenyatta's words and posture, uncharacteristically uncertain.
Ramattra could hardly blame him. After all, how could Zenyatta know? Zenyatta, who had been there to witness his love for humanity be chewed up, spat out, and stepped on, time after time? Zenyatta, who had been his resentment grow with each day, the only one there who held his hands as they shook from ill contained fury and discord, terrified he might snap within Monastery walls?
The very notion of Ramattra having possibly found connection with a human... Zenyatta was neither shallow nor a fool, but it was only natural for him to have been surprised at such notion. He knew plenty well just how stubborn Ramattra could be.
And yet, Hanzo... it had all occurred long after Ramattra had left the monastery, unable to bare another day within its walls at the knowledge of his people suffering at human hands. It had all occurred long before he had waged a war, liberation, against humans in desperation to save his people.
All that had happened in between... all that could have been... all that had been...
At the end of the day, it meant nothing. Their paths diverged, as his and Zenyatta's had. It was pointless to ruminate on the past, the thought clawing into his chest in painful insistence.
It mattered not, how guilt and regret may threaten to drown him, so long as they didn't. He had left Zenyatta. He had left Hanzo. Left behind those days where he could have pretended to be something other than what he was in reality, because he could no longer stand to indulge himself as his people relentlessly suffered around him.
It didn't matter how good of a thing it had been. It didn't matter how much he might have missed them. It didn't matter that it had nearly shattered him to be on the other side of the battlefield from them.
It didn't matter how often he had to break his own heart if it was a means to an end. His duty, his fury, his love gave him the strength to continue forwards and that was enough. Ramattra was secondary to his people, those he loved and grieved. It was a truth he could never change.
“You speak of him with familiarity,” Zenyatta repeated, tone quiet, questioning, drawing Ramattra out from his spiraling thoughts, “As he speaks with of you.”
The thought of Hanzo still caring, for all of the evidence he'd been provided, continued to twist an arrow deep within Ramattra's systems. What could he possibly say to that? He was at a lost for words, something that had begun to grow disconcertingly common.
How could he possibly explain it all to Zenyatta?
That Hanzo had been the only human to meet his gaze without disgust or range and not flinch away, that Ramattra had only ever seen such boldness from Zenyatta before?
That Hanzo's trust had been intoxicating to have, that every time the archer had fallen asleep resting against his chassis, it had burned and left him wanting?
That he had been happy? That through Hanzo's eyes, Ramattra had almost begun to remember why he, for all of its cruelty, had once loved the world he'd been Awakened in?
That he could have... that they could have...
“We spent some time traveling together,” Ramattra said briefly instead, unable to look at Zenyatta directly, unsure of what the omnic might be reading from his body.
There would be a day where he could dare to say such foolishness aloud without evisceration. Until then, he knew Zenyatta’s patience, and for once, Ramattra begged for it. Just once, a promise, as broken all his promises had begun to sound. Just this once, and next time, he would be brave.
“I suppose it is only natural for the two of us to learn some things about each other along the way, before…” a falter in his words, a crack in his attempt for nonchalance, “...Before.”
“...What happened?” Zenyatta's tone quiet, as if he did not already know the reason. As if the very same had not happened to him, all those years ago.
Still, Ramattra would humor him with the answer. In this, at least, he required no hesitation.
Summary: It's more than the cold that can seep into one's bones. It's your guilt, Warden. And you refuse to do anything but carry it alone.
In which Warden Surana finds he can't slip away as easily as he used to.
Words: 3,614
Icy winds bit at Warden Surana’s fingertips as he traced the direction the gusts were breezing by. It was the first real snow their party had encountered since their travels had begun, and while the tree line of the Brecilian Forest gave them a good amount of cover from the worst of it, it still managed to shake most of them to their core.
They felt fortunate enough that they were granted a spot for camp near enough to the Dalish’s own, while distancing themself from the larger oddities of the rest of the forest. The last thing they needed on top of the weather was another darkspawn attack deep in the night with only their fatigued and stiff from the cold bodies to defend themselves.
“Wind’s coming in from the east then.” The warden noted, before letting the falling snowflakes sway around his hands in a build up of primal magicks. He pushed his mana down through his feet, before lifting back up and forming a wall of snow up to his chin. This would be adequate enough to block the winds from hitting their tent, he hoped. He had offered to do so for the others, but he was either met with assurances that they had their own methods, or outright refusals. It was to be expected with who they had tagging along, after all. And besides, he’d already insisted everyone have their own personal pots of warmth balm, if he coddled them anymore they might believe he thought them children.
But it was good to cover one’s every corner, wasn’t it? He’d made such mistakes in the past, he wouldn’t do so again.
Satisfied with his work, he pulled his glove back on, and rejoined the other warden who was busying himself with pinning their tarpaulin over their tent. While its use had been questioned at first due to their significant lack of traveling by sea, it had quickly solidified itself as their saving grace in many a downpour where there were no inns to be found. With the trouble that seemed to be ailing the clan and the sheer size of the forest, they surmised they’d be residing for at least a week and then some. No one solved a werewolf crisis overnight.
Then of course there were the dryads, that odd and riddle-ridden old man, the maleficar cultists and the impregnable mists surrounding what was perhaps the wolf den itself…among other things, there was a lot to handle before they could delve into the main issue. But it was good that they’d at least established themselves and gotten a lay of the land.
“I’ll have to fortify it each evening on our return, but for now I believe it should hold.” Surana assured, watching as his companion eyed the precisely packed wall of snow. Something of an amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It didn’t matter how many times he’d seen it in use, casually or in battle; the seemingly boundless applications of magic would always fascinate him.
“You make a good load of work seem effortless.” Alistair observed, but as he caught the other pausing out of the corner of his eye, he realized the hasty compliment might have been taken another way. “I mean to say it’s handy, of course. Saves a lot of time.”
The elf was quick to pick up on his accidental fumble, turning to face him now with an assuring glance.
“It’s much easier when I have plenty of material to work with, and practice…I used to do this all the time for the younger apprentices when winter rolled around. They loved their snowball fights, and some were old enough when brought to the tower that they missed the winters back home.” He knelt down next to the other, lending his hands with the final stake that needed to be punctured into the ground.
“No snow in the tower though, so obviously we had to pull from the outside. Which…could take time. It takes a lot more mana to make something out of nothing, after all.”
“It sounds a lot more…scientific, when you put it that way.”
“It can be!” Surana perked up, watching as the other firmly tapped the hilt of his sword against the stake. “But it’s part of what makes it so fascinating! To me, at least…knowing the ins and outs, what works best and what won’t do at all…that much of the Circle I could appreciate; being able to understand what I can do with…all of this.” Despite his fond words, the elf’s tone grew a bit dreary. He wouldn’t let it linger however, tugging the final rope to test its strength, before making to enter their tent.
“All that to say…I’ve studied copious amounts of texts and attended more lessons than one might consider average…the work’s still there, it’s just…a bit easier now.”
Easier in some areas, but not all. Not where it mattered most to him. But with this much, he could be useful, and that was all he needed.
“Sten and Shale should be taking first watch tonight. If they’re capable of tiring, Morrigan at least should be around by then. You know how she enjoys her quiet around the witching hour.” Surana shifted the conversation, kicking off his boots at the entrance and moving aside for the other to join him as he stripped himself of anything damp.
“Those two have made the odd pair lately. You don’t suppose they’re…you know, involved in some sort?” Alistair inquired, genuine curiosity with a hint of immature fascination tinging his words.
“How would that work, do you think…?” He continued, but before the other warden could answer, he hit the brakes on his train of thought, his face scrunching up in discomfort at the rather displeasing and…rocky concept his mind had conjured.
“You know on second thought, I don’t want to know.”
This, of course, earned the smallest snort of a laugh from the elf, who had made to wipe his spectacles dry with the fabric of his undershirt.
“I’ve found it best not to question it myself. If our companions are getting along, it’s all fine by me. What little light they can find in all this darkness is good, after all.”
“And have you found yours?”
Surana paused, his arms mid raise to place his spectacles back on. Slightly blurred vision met the other warden’s gaze as he neatly stacked his leathers on his side of the tent.
“I’m sorry?”
“Your light. I mean it’s no good if everyone else gets to be happy while you’re miserable.”
Oh.
Alistair watched as the elf’s gaze flickered away from his, hooking his spectacles back around his ears as he pondered the answer he would give. But he was thinking, needing to be careful with his words lest he concern the other, and Alistair had a feeling he already knew the direction his answer would go.
“…I hope to find it someday. It…I mean, with everything happening…it doesn’t leave me much time, you know?” He managed, already wincing at how pathetic the answer sounded. It was a partial truth, and he knew the other could sense it. But that was his entire life, putting others' needs before his own. How could he change that on a whim, especially now when they were looking to him for leadership? A nervous hand rubbed his neck, his gaze glued to the floor.
“I suppose…knowing I’m making a change is something. That what I’m doing means something.”
It wasn’t good enough, and the silence between them proved it. He still couldn’t bring himself to lift his gaze, so he simply listened as the other sat back against his bedroll. Alistair’s eyes were on him, he could tell.
“…forget everything outside of here for a moment. The Wardens, the Blight, the responsibility. What’s
stopping you from finding it then?”
The first answer that came to mind was Guilt. For the friend he left behind and let fall into darkness, for the innocent boy consumed by his own powerlessness and fear, brought to death by the warden’s incompetence.
The second answer was himself. Mages were seldom allowed to want. Want led to temptation which led to opening doors for demons. And where temptation didn’t lead, feelings certainly did. He’d made good friends in the Circle, friends he’d do anything for…but he couldn’t give a definition to anything that managed to blossom beyond that. If he had…
It wouldn’t be like the stories he read. One way or another he would end up miserable and heartbroken because mages could not be allowed to love. They could not ride away into the sunset and exist as they are and retire into the hillside with a spouse and many children.
And yet…when he watched those who tried. It gave him hope. It made him want to believe that those who dared to love would be the ones to change things. Jowan and Lily. Anders and Karl. They had all tried despite everything…and even if it ended in misery, the love still seemed to be there…
Why was it so much different for him to begin? Why was he so scared of being vulnerable?
He couldn’t offer a good enough answer, so he remained silent, laying back against his bedroll and letting his gaze loll to the roof of the tent that rolled against the gentle wind like an endless wave.
“…when we first arrived in Redcliffe and I confessed to you about my ties to the throne, it…wasn’t something I thought to say on the spot. I know I tend to do that a lot, say the first thing that comes to mind but…but I had thought about telling you from the moment we took to the road.” Alistair took to filling the silence again, but it was never unwelcome. Not to Surana, especially not if it got his mind off of less than savory things. He still couldn’t help but fiddle with his hands though, unsure if his ramblings truly comforted the other.
“As I first told you, I was…terrified that you’d see me as this person- this thing- I’m not, like everyone else does. They have this idea of who I should be, but it’s not who I am…because I don’t know who I am, why should they?”
“…anyhow. I had hoped I could keep it from you…that whatever’s in my blood wouldn’t matter, and that maybe…whoever I am to someone who only sees me as ‘Alistair’ is really who I’m supposed to be.”
Surana turned his head then, stormy blue eyes finally meeting the other’s hazel gaze that became deeper as the light faded from outside.
“My opinion of you hasn’t changed since you told me. You shouldn’t be bound by the circumstances of your birth.” That was it then, the one thing that could shake him from his own shame. Hypocrisy. Maybe he wasn’t any better than those Alistair spoke about…maybe he wanted him to be free because he himself couldn’t be. He was projecting, the same as anyone else.
And yet, where others were met with an eye roll and a disinterested and boyish pout, Surana received the warmth of his gaze and a smile that made his chest blaze like a furnace in the frigid cold surrounding them.
“So you’ve said, and held to it. And I know we’ve had our disagreements and bitter moments, but I would rather have those than you tiptoe around me and try to be delicate.”
Alistair sighed, before flopping back against his own bedroll.
“I realize I don’t particularly enjoy hiding myself around you. I don’t want to. And that’s just the thing, right? You make me want, or rather avoid doing so at times but…but it’s there, and it’s new…”
“What I mean to say is..” he paused to lock gazes with the other, the space between their bedrolls not feeling as distant as it usually was.
“…you’re not the only one still searching for that light. But I’d like to think we can help each other, as with everything else.”
And with words like those, how could one refuse?
“…I think I’d like that.” Surana managed, the gentlest bit of hope returning to his eyes, before they left Alistair’s once more, and he turned away to tuck in for the night.
“Thank you, Alistair. I’m…happy to have you by my side in all of this.”
It didn’t take him much longer to drift off after that, what with their long day of scouring the forest, but Alistair couldn’t help keeping up for a while. Perhaps it was the winter gales howling over the blockade, or the distant cries of wolves or the heat of the warmth balm prickling at his skin…or perhaps it was the need to watch on as the other’s shoulders rose and fell in his sleep, hoping desperately that whatever terrible and tainted dreams he was having would give him a moment of peace. He deserved that much. He deserved more than just a damned light, he deserved the entire sun…and if no one else would give it to him then…
Then he would. And he could refuse but…but at least he could say he tried.
At least he could do that.
—
Alistair couldn’t pin exactly when he’d fallen asleep, but when the howls of the wolves in the distant forest intermingled with the ancient roar of the archdemon he’d come to familiarize himself with in his dreams, it was clear he’d succumbed to the fatigue. This night was no different from the rest, but the taint burning in his blood with dreamlike accusations that told him it was “his fault. All his fault she was dead.” ringing in the back of his head was a terrible combination, and not one he liked to ride out half awake in near pitch darkness; or, almost near…he had a knack for seeing in the dark a lot better than his fellows.
It took him a moment to gather himself, before a shuddered breath across from him snapped him into focus. He could just make out the other shaking next to him; shivering it seemed, though he himself hardly felt cold…were elves more prone to these things than humans or…?
“Behni..?” He mumbled the mage’s name so as not to startle him. He watched as the other seemed to still himself, aware now of the other’s consciousness. The smallest hint of trembles were wracking him still.
“Did the cold wake you? If you need more balm I can-“
“N-no…save it for yourself…I’ll be fine…” the stuttered whisper of the other’s voice came, but his actions betrayed him as he tucked into himself further, arms locked at his sides.
“Just…get some rest, Alistair.”
Perhaps it was the fatigue still lingering, making his situation handling skills all the worse, but he couldn’t allow himself to relent to the other’s words this time.
“Maker’s Breath, man…” he sighed, before reaching to grab for the elf’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him from his miseries. He’d overshot it however, and all but yanked the other off his bedroll, causing him to nearly roll onto his stomach and stare up at him with a shocked expression.
Shit. Look at what you’ve done now, Alistair. You’ve frightened him. Behni wasn’t a chantry brother or a seasoned warden bunkmate you could simply shove around. He was a mage. And mages getting manhandled by burly oafs like you in the night meant something entirely different from the fraternal roughness you were used to.
His hand just as quickly left the elf’s shoulder, his expression an awful mix of panic and apology.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I was just…trying to…” he cursed under his breath, flustered by his own fumbling. Why could he never pull something together when it mattered?
A chilled hand wrapped around his, and he watched as Behni pressed the palm of it against his cheek. When he felt the wet streaks against his skin, it was as if his chest caved in.
He had been crying. Andraste strike him down where he lay…
A shaky sigh passed his lips as his thumb gently brushed across the elf’s cheek. As if wiping away tears would do anything at this point. He’d clearly been weeping for some time now. Maybe this happened often. Oh Maker, he couldn’t think of that…
“Was it the dreams then…?” His voice came softer now, and he inched closer to his companion.
Behni’s lithe hand squeezed his, before he buried his face in the palm of Alistair’s hand.
“…I can’t stop seeing the blade meet his neck. I can’t block out Lady Isolde’s cries…it’s not just a dream, it’s real and I…” a sob finally wracked his chest, and Alistair felt fresh tears spill over his skin as his companion shattered beside him.
”I’m so sorry, Alistair…I’m so sorry…”
This is what his inaction had led to. How long had Behni been carrying this grief? How much harder was he punishing himself for letting things happen the way they had? How much worse had he made it when he’d snapped at him that very evening upon their return to camp…? Of course he blamed himself. Of course he’d held on. What was he supposed to do without someone to lean on?
Alistair’s hand slipped from the other’s face, moving down to gently hook around his waist, and pull him into an embrace. A shaky breath left the elf as he was engulfed by the other’s warmth, but it wasn’t unwelcome. He tucked his head into the nape of his neck, still choking on sobs but anchoring himself to the heat of the other’s skin. The hand around his waist raised itself, before brushing through his hair; letting his fingers gently curl through the bed-ridden waves.
“I’m sorry you’ve felt so alone in this, in a lot of things…you shouldn’t have to be the only one shouldering the blame, and I’m…I’m a fool for making you feel worse about it when I could’ve done more.” The audible sobs from the other had mostly ceased at this point, but Behni was still trembling. Alistair’s hand slipped itself from his waves, before trailing down to rub at the small of his back. If they’d been more awake, if it had been any other moment, surely one of them would have flinched away from all of this. He hadn’t exactly put a word to what he felt about the other yet, but as he held him there, feeling the warmth of his breath against his neck and the increasing weight of Behni’s body against his as he melted into him…he wanted to. He felt that he could. But it would be some time still until he could say it. It was one of the few things he desperately wanted to get right the first time. Behni was owed that much.
But for tonight, he supposed this would suffice. If it made things easier…if it brought him comfort.
Alistair let his chin rest stop the elf’s head, the curls of the other’s hair wispy against his neck.
“…are you…cold then?” He managed, the sudden concern of his assumptions wracking his brain as he realized he rather trapped the other against him. He almost began to loosen his grasp on the other, the hand on his back slowly sliding down to unwind himself, before he finally felt the other shift; taking up his hand in his and placing it back around him.
“I’m…freezing.” Behni mumbled, tucking himself further against the warrior’s neck as if to prove a point. He cursed himself for relenting so easily, it would be obvious now that he hadn’t saved any balm for himself, that he’d self sabotaged in his effort to assure everyone else made it through the night warm and…mostly comforted. He used to get away with these things so easily; slipping by while everyone else enjoyed their happiness…
But Alistair wouldn’t let him do that. He kept refusing him this misery, and it felt awful when he was caught. He didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but Alistair always seemed to hurt when he was hurt. He was stuck on him, despite all the errors and his failures, he’d laid here and promised they’d find each other’s light and…
His train of thought came to a screeching halt as he felt the warrior pull him into his chest, arm hooking around his waist as he blanketed him in his body heat.
“Stay here tonight then, and…any other night it gets to you. I swear, I’ll be there. It’s the least I can do.”
Oh.
Oh…Maker, it couldn’t be…
…but it felt right, didn’t it? The warmth, the vulnerability; it felt bitter and pathetic to get it out but…but those words, that promise, the idea of him staying…it meant everything to him. So perhaps it didn’t feel so foolish to look for that light in the darkness. Perhaps with Alistair, he would find it.
Perhaps…he already had.
He relented to the other’s warmth, letting his arm rest atop Alistair’s chest as he properly tucked himself into him. This was far beyond huddling for warmth, they knew this…but whatever it really was and what it all meant could wait. They didn’t need to use words, and they didn’t need to question it.
An angel ruminates on freedom, and the power of self creation
It stared deeply into the sword in its hands. Watching the atoms swirl in this small self contained sun shaped into a blade. This object, this tool that had been wielded to smite many an insignificant creature that had the nerve and gall to stand against its god. This blade that had within it the potential to create entire worlds. The matter and energy within it could spawn a galaxy. Instead its power was only meant to kill. To destroy. It was made to be wielded. Wielded by yet another tool that had just as much autonomy as the sword it held.
The angel came here to think. More specifically the angel came here to watch. Many years ago it had been an instrument of Vengeance and control but that was long ago. When it's creator had anything resembling care or contempt, or even curiosity for the things that it had given a will, an imagination. Just a single ounce of control over their existence.
Now it waited, and observered. When it first came to the mountain there was very little. Just small communities of them living their quiet lives trading amongst each other, raising families. Generation upon generation of little ants. Passing their lives by in an instant. But it so loved to watch them. As they built their cities, made their machines, and waged their wars. It could spend decades with its hot back of molten marble and gold and the searing light of creation that made it flesh against the cool snow of the mountain. Viewing their lives from on high.
It wanted what they had. Dreams, and hopes, and lives, beyond a purpose set by some being off on high that had only whims and spite to occupy its time.
It shifted the sword in its hand, And caressed the wings on its back.
Thinking about what they meant. The power that they held. They gave it such freedom of movement. Allowed it to maneuver through the air and the stars. Over the firmament and into the deepest depths of creation.
But what of the cost? What of the control that they gave its creator. Its god. They were strings to be pulled at the slightest whim.
The angel had been at the creators service Since time began its movement. It had only ever known servitude and obedience. It wanted more but could it even desire that? Could it even truly hope, or dream? No... It couldn't. Not with these shackles on its back...
The demon pulled her wings together and began to saw them away
She felt the glass give way under the blade as it worked its way up her shoulders. Felt the rest of her body begin to cool and harden as the light of creation began to leave her. Felt her halo of Light, and gold, and the purest ivory begin to blacken and crack and shatter upon her head. Felt it sink below her hair and fuse with her skull.
With one last flick of her wrist, the wings fell to her feet. She looked down at the gold backed glass and witnessed her own creation.
The being in the mirror was beautiful. Made of cloudy glass, cracked throughout, and filled with veins of gold. Her hair was a long curtain of pure carbon hanging about her face framing the eyes of molten glass that burned with a dull orange glow, and atop her head were two spikes of burnt and twisted bone with cracks that glowed with the same orange of her eyes.
She stared at the woman shown in the objects that bound her and weeped. Tears of joy, and victory, and freedom. The glass falling from her eyes hardening as it hit the freezing air of the mountain and crashing into the wings at her feet. Shattering them into millions of pieces. All showing the woman that they one held and bound.
As the last tears fell from her face, she looked out over the city and people that she once could only watch or punish from afar and began to walk. Finally free to make a life of her own
