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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

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i ain’t done anything for @tolkienocweek yet, mostly because my covid-induced neet-dom has decoupled me from any association with sidereal time and thus there’s no way i could guarantee getting something out on its specific day. still, i do have one character that could potentially qualify for day 3 (background characters) or day 4 (self-inserts), sorta. i’d like to introduce you all to the proprietor of the fëanorian ethics department, the as-yet-nameless fed elf

fed elf is a... moderately idealised self-insert of mine, though she’s taking on a life of her own

she’s also a noldo. of course she is

her Noldorin Craft™ is, as i’ve said before, arguing. she has very strong opinions about almost everything and will debate them at length

she’s moderately infamous for it in tirion

she’s especially fond of philosophy, in the ancient-greek asking-a-million-rhetorical questions style. what should we do? why do we do the things we do? why do the valar get to tell us what to do?

... you can probably tell which side of the fëanor/fingolfin debate she landed on, if it wasn’t already obvious

she’s not particularly close to any of the future capital-H House, but she is in their rough orbit. one of the miscellaneous guild trolls that form the rank-and-file of their initial expeditionary force

idk if she’s ~devoted to the cause enough to go to formenos, but when the trees get eaten and fëanor rolls up into tirion with the solution to all their spider problems, she is all for it

she’s a passing acquaintance of maedhros from those times when he’d show up in her guild hall for debate night, so she probably ends up with his crew, at least initially

... there’s a very good chance her first attempts at crafting a new noldorin ethical system happen on that horrible night aboard the blood-stained swanships of alqualondë

in any case, she gets good enough at murder to not die before the brothers hellspawn are divvying up east beleriand, and the formerly reasonably undelineated fëanorian host is splitting up into its various garrisons

most people stay with whoever they’re already riding with, but there are exceptions. she is one of them, as soon as she hears about caranthir’s Plans she immediately switches allegiance to the future lord of thargelion

he’s deliberately trying to set up on the trade routes! they’re gonna make contact with the dwarves! there are apparently trails leading over the blue mountains, links to communities of elves unlike she’s ever seen!

so many new people to argue with!!!!!!

so she heads up to lake helevorn, and helps with setting up the city. she winds up filling some middling role in east beleriand’s military bureaucracy, when she’s not on orc-killing duty

but her true passion is *~ethics~*

there is actually a practical component to this. due to Certain Events the noldor (especially the fëanorians) aren’t as-well suited to their pre-darkening moral codes as they might have once been

they need a new one, with contingencies for, like, murder, and all the other new situations they’ll encounter in this new world! the questions of what’s right and wrong have been blown right open, and fed elf is possibly the happiest she’s been in her life. they’re building everything else from first principles, why not this?

and the fëanorian host in aggregate does actually care about morality, even though outsiders never believe that. it’s what separates them from the orcs (in their minds at least); they’re doing everything for a Cause, not for destruction’s sake alone. say what you want about the fëanorians, their problem was never a lack of ideals

she gets people coming in sometimes, wanting to know what the right thing to do in a situation is. either that, or they think she’s wrong about something and want to explain why in depth, which is almost as fun

soon enough, there’s a small shop just off the main streets of lake helevorn called the fëanorian ethics department

(she’s the only one with a shop, but she’s not the only member of the host with Opinions. the guy on the other side of the market district whose system is fairly similar in the broad strokes but completely different in the details is her personal archnemesis)

for most of the first age, fed elf has it pretty good. by her standards, at least, and she’ll happily exposit at length as to why they’re the only ones that matter

the work on the system of ethics never quite stops, but it does slow down. she’s less prescriptivist than most noldor, so she does a lot of observation and interviewing and stuff, and also new things keep happening for her to cover, but she does manage to nail down the basics!

she does consultation, in varying levels of official capacity, but she’ll also just. answer anyone who comes in with a question. or asks one within earshot

it’s mostly noldorin fëanorians she has debates with, the sindar and atani generally prefer to ask her whatever they want to know with minimum fuss, but whenever she gets a real fight going they all join the crowd. watching fed elf argue with people is one of lake helevorn’s municipal spectator sports

she also has conversations with travellers! these usually start when some newcomer is staring in befuddlement at the sign outside her shop and she takes the opportunity to pounce

she asks them detailed questions about their own ethical systems, which she files away for potential future incorporation/argument ammunition. they fairly frequently ask questions of their own, most often variations on ‘you guys seriously have morals?’

sometimes this even turns into a proper ethical debate! these aren’t usually as well-argued or intense as the ones she has with other fëanorians, particularly if she’s not talking to a noldo, but when she meets someone who’s a proper match for her it is the highlight of her year

running the shop does generate a fair bit of paperwork she tends to be too emotionally invested in to deal with properly, so she hires help now and then. one recurring underling is a clumsy perpetually-ill atan who is nevertheless really good with the filing and holds fierce opinions of their own, even if they hide under the table whenever anyone so much as raises their voice

(that atan is me. much less idealised self insert)

like every other elf in the host, fed elf is still under arms. she has a unit, she’s part of the orc patrol rotas, when caranthir needs to do a battle she pulls her broadsword out from under her desk and reports for the muster. east beleriand is just a pretty violent place in general, and her most impassioned arguments frequently shade into all-out duels. east beleriand, where even especially the philosophers will knife you

but just like fëanor promised on tirion upon túna so long ago, she’s built a place where she can be the best version of herself, and she couldn’t be happier (marketplace douche notwithstanding)

like so much of the host, she has big plans for when they topple angband and reclaim the silmarils. it’s just, well

i am not entirely sure what fed elf’s fate is after the fall of thargelion. most likely she died at some point, because so do most of her peers and also because she has an aversion to cutting her losses that’s definitely gonna backfire sooner or later

it’s either that, or she abandons everything she ever worked out to flee over the blue mountains, or she sticks with the host long enough to see all their ideals and dreams burn to ash. out of all of them death is probably her kindest fate

if she does die - she’s definitely a kinslayer at least one time over, she is staying in the halls for a While. the local maiar completely stonewall her every time she tries to argue her way out, she has plenty of time to sit around and think

because yeah, the host’s century-long self-immolation has given her a lot to think about. she was wrong, it turns out, in several important ways, and from the outside she can see how much the ethical system she put her heart and soul into was bent towards destruction

if she ever gets out, it’ll be after a lot of self-reflection, a massive dose of humility, and her accepting her own small-but-not-insignificant role in the nightmare they created

the fëanorians as get let out of the halls of mandos are without fail less violent, more self-aware, and just generally more conscious of their actions than they were when they went in. fed elf is no exception to this

she’s also no exception to the rule that their time in elf afterlife therapy generally fails to lower their volume at all. soon after her rebirth, after some time spent rethinking her personal moral code, fed elf puts out a thesis as to why elwing’s refusal to give up the silmaril was perfectly justifiable under fëanorian ethical mores

this pisses off a measurable proportion of aman’s sapient population. soon the furious letters of rebuke are pouring in nightly

exactly. as. planned

#tolkienocweek #my terrible headcanons #my terrible ocs #feanorian minions #i have a lot of hcs about how they work that i tried to fit into here #in general i feel like their initial noldorin core is mostly made up of the family hellspawn's personal friends #just groups of buddies going off to war together! there's no way this can end badly!#my mental image of fed elf is way more defined than it has any right to be #i made her up to have a cool blog title and for absolutely no other reason #still it is oc week. y'all are basically asking for my ideas at their dumbest

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delicioussshame · 3 years

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Have more of Luo Binghe trying to rationalise buying his love interest.

Luo Binghe’s constant pacing is only interrupted by Shen-laoshi’s arrival.

From the look of it, his teacher is too occupied with taking in Luo Binghe’s penthouse to spare him much attention, which is perfect. It leaves him completely free to take in Shen-laoshi himself.

He hadn’t been wrong. Shen-laoshi is so thin he’s verging on unhealthy. The result of too much work and not enough home-cooked food, surely. Luo Binghe would be worried if he didn’t know it wouldn’t last. Shen-laoshi had always eaten every dish Luo Binghe used to bring to his tutoring sessions, the only thanks he could afford at the time, with every sign of enjoyment. Luo Binghe fully intends to rekindle that tradition.

“This is a bad idea.”

Luo Binghe is too fast; he steals Shen-laoshi’s small luggage before he can take it back. “Am I such a bad host that Shen-laoshi won’t even give me a chance to show him hospitality? He should at least let me serve him the meal I prepared for him. It would be a shame for the food to go to waste.”

He doesn’t smile when Shen-laoshi visibly hesitates. “Binghe still cooks? Doesn’t he have people for that?”

Luo Binghe would never let strangers handle his food in his own home. “I do. I’ve always enjoyed cooking, especially for others. It’ll be a pleasure to do so again.” It’s not a lie. He does enjoy cooking for others, as long as he cares about those others. The people he holds dear are just very few.

Shen-laoshi throws a longing glance at the door, but slumps in defeat. “Well, I guess it would be rude not to at least stay for dinner then.”

“And Shen-laoshi is never rude.” Luo Binghe starts for his room. “Here, I’ll put your baggage away.”

Shen-laoshi follows him in a hurry. “Binghe, wait! Where are you going?”

Could he settle Shen-laoshi somewhere less provocative than in his own bedroom? Yes, he could have. He’d thought about it. The last thing he wanted was to spook Shen-laoshi away. He does want to take his time, in his own way.

But he knows his teacher. He’d made Luo Binghe’s adolescence hell with his complete obliviousness to his student’s shamefully evident crush. If his interest is too subtle, Shen-laoshi will fool himself into thinking it’s platonic, which it never was.

Shen-laoshi freezes when he enters a room he has to recognise as Luo Binghe’s. “Binghe…”

Luo Binghe ignores him in favor of setting the luggage down beside a dresser. “This is yours. I did say you didn’t have to bring anything if you didn’t want to, so there are clothes in it and in the closet. Take whatever you want.” Would he love to see Shen-laoshi leaves his bathroom with wet hair dripping down on a shirt Luo Binghe had bought him? Why yes, he would very much enjoy that. Also, Shen-laoshi deserves better than the worn garments he was usually seen in.

But if it’s too much, too fast, he’ll settle for Shen-laoshi’s own clothes stored in his home, like they belonged there.

Shen-laoshi peeks into the closet gingerly. “…Binghe, that’s way too much.”

It is not. “It’s nothing less than Laoshi deserves.”

Shen-laoshi shakes his head. “I don’t know what story you’ve constructed about me, but Binghe must be confused about something. What I have ever done for you to think this all makes sense?”

Luo Binghe could spend hours explaining to Shen-laoshi how lonely he’d been as a child. Struggling to adjust after his mother’s death, terribly aware that what little money she left him wouldn’t last forever, the soothing presence of Shen-laoshi, the only adult willing to listen to him, had been a lifeline he’d needed more than anything. He’d promised himself he’d be the same for him, when he would be able to.

He could, but he’s afraid he’ll scare Shen-laoshi away. He’s been told before he can be a bit… intense. “Shen-laoshi will understand in time. Meanwhile, why doesn’t he follow me to the dining room? Now that you’re here, we should catch up properly. There is so much I want to share with him!” The urge to reach for him, to put a hand on his back or his arm to guide him makes itself known, but he restrains himself. Patience. He can’t spook his teacher, or he’ll run.

Shen-laoshi doesn’t fight the suggestion, meekly following along.

Dinner is nice and uncomplicated. Luo Binghe deliberately keeps conversation light, retreating to familiar grounds, his studies. After all, Shen-laoshi is the only reason Luo Binghe managed to ace the required entrance test. He should be made aware of the results of his hard work.

As he prattles on, he gets to see Shen-laoshi’s walls fall, piece by piece, as he forgets why he’s here to only focus on Luo Binghe’s words. Luo Binghe knows Shen-laoshi has always been fond of him. With insight, he can tell he was favored, maybe more than a teacher should favor one of his students. As long as Shen-laoshi can think of Luo Binghe as that student of his, he’ll happily let himself be entertained.

If he had time, he would have invited Shen-laoshi over to such dinners. He’d have taken him out to good restaurants. He’d have visited museums with him, taken him shopping, walked around the city by his side until Shen-laoshi would have accepted him, and then he would have confessed.

But that would have meant letting the object of his affection struggle through another summer of part-time jobs, tutoring gigs and calligraphy lessons that barely paid the rent. Shen-laoshi would have been stretched even thinner.

Luo Binghe couldn’t allow it.

He waves Shen-laoshi away after dinner, claiming work he has to finish before tomorrow. He, of course, would prefer to spend the rest of the evening with him, but the point of this manoeuvre is to let Shen-laoshi discover his house by himself. It’s a show of trust, demonstrating he has nothing to hide from his teacher.

It’s also a chance for him to find the room Luo Binghe always thought of as his.

He believes it will be obvious. The rest of the house has been professionally decorated, all tasteful whites with the occasional colorful accent.

Shen-laoshi’s study is all soft green and rosewood furniture, a more antiquated style Luo Binghe had always associated with his teacher. Nothing like the modern feel of the rest of the house. There are shelves, some stocked with classic literature, others empty, waiting for their proper owner to fill them as he saw fit. A fully furnished desk with the latest tech. A soft, huge couch Luo Binghe made sure he could sleep on comfortably if he wanted to. Large windows letting in the sun in the morning. A few plants Luo Binghe diligently watered so that they’d be radiant when Shen-laoshi first saw them.

A space just for him.

Luo Binghe thrills as he heard Shen-laoshi putters around the house, the muffled sounds of his steps on the hardwood floor or of doors opening and closing softly obliterating the silence he’s used to, reminding him each time that this is real, that Shen-laoshi really is here with him. It’s a good thing the work he has to do isn’t too demanding, because he could never focus in this state of elation.

He hopes his teacher likes the place, though he’d move in a heartbeat if Shen-laoshi found it lacking in any way.

After a while, the sounds stop. Luo Binghe supposes he found the study.

When, a few hours later, he closes his laptop for good, he does find Shen-laoshi sitting on the couch, engrossed in one of the books.

He smiles. The sight of Shen-laoshi making himself home here is very pleasing to his more possessive tendencies. “I see Shen-laoshi have found a way to entertain himself.”

Shen-laoshi startles. “Binghe!” He sets the book down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, it’s just-“

Luo Binghe cuts him off. “Shen-laoshi has done nothing wrong. All that is mine is his, and these books were always intended for him.” He opens the desk’s drawer and hands him the card. “He is welcome to purchase any book he wants to read, or anything else he lacks. He doesn’t have to restrain himself.”

The credit card is a crass reminder of their supposed arrangement, but there is no way around it. Luo Binghe wants Shen-laoshi to get all he desires, and money facilitates that process.

Shen-laoshi doesn’t take the card. “Binghe, I can’t accept this. This isn’t right.”

Luo Binghe is getting quite tired of Shen-laoshi’s refusals, no matter how expected they were. “Please do. It would make me so happy to know Shen-laoshi is provided for, for once. But it is getting late.” Luo Binghe settles the card back into the drawer, ostentatiously, so that Shen-laoshi knows where to find it tomorrow, when he’s alone in Luo Binghe’s apartment and wondering how to spend his time. Once he’s done, he offers Shen-laoshi his hand, keeping his face blank and his tone simply pleasant. “Will Shen-laoshi turn in for the night?”

He sees Shen-laoshi tense as it becomes impossible for him not to worry about what will be coming next.

The silence stretches on.

Luo Binghe breaks first. “Shen-laoshi doesn’t have to worry. He needs to recuperate. I wouldn’t keep him from his sleep.”

The hand finally settling in his still is a bit unsure.

Luo Binghe decides to ignore it, preferring to focus on its warmth and the fluttering feeling of holding Shen-laoshi’s hand.

“Binghe shouldn’t call me Laoshi in this context. It’s… He shouldn’t.”

“What should I call him, then?”

“My name, simply. Shen Yuan.”

Shen Yuan.

While to Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan will always be his teacher first, he can definitely learn to love the sound of his name. “Shen Yuan it is.”

Luo Binghe lets Shen Yuan uses the main bathroom while he uses a guest’s, and tries to steel himself for what will be coming next.

He doesn’t manage it.

Even if the pajamas Shen-laoshi are wearing offer him full coverage to the point of prudishness, it’s still Shen-laoshi standing by his bed, waiting for him to signal how to proceed.

Luo Binghe bites his tongue until he tastes blood as he himself settles down, and pats the space besides his.

There is no relaxation in either of them, though, Luo Binghe expects, for very different reasons. From this close, he can smell his soap on Shen Yuan’s skin. He can hear the faster-than-average rhythm of his breath. He can feel the warmth of his body.

But he can’t reach for it.

He keeps his antsy hands to himself, instead very deliberately turning off the lights. “Good night, Laoshi. Please rest well.” He needs it.

He doesn’t expect an answer, but the soft “Good night, Binghe,” he gets in response ensures that when he finally falls asleep, he does so with a smile on his face.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #That AU where LBH and SY fail to negociate their sugar relationship

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ikemen-girl · 3 years

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Hellooo Sumi-chan~ I'm back again (with no shame) xDDDD. I hope you don't get bored seeing my request in your ask box x"D

My birthday is coming up, so... may I indulge myself with asking you a HC of Mitsuhide celebrating his loved one's birthday? (◕ᴗ◕✿) Whether it's on Sengoku (canonical) universe or modern AU, it's up to you!

Thank you for taking up my request until now! You're absolutely wonderful! ❤️❤️❤️ Take care and have a good day~! 🍀✨

OH WOW😍😍😍😍❤❤! WISHING YOU A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR @ashavazesa 💃💃💛💛🍫🍫✨✨😘😘😍😍! I am extremely sorry for being late😭😭🥺🥺🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️, I got loaded with assignments📚🤦🏻‍♀️😂😂, please forgive me for the wait🙇🏻‍♀️💗! Awwww, thank you so much❤❤🙈🙈! I You are talented as well💯💯✨✨😍😍! Since, it's your birthday, I am going to use your name especially in this HC😉. I am choosing Sengoku universe as Birthday HC feels empty without the presence of funny warlords🤣🤣❤❤💯💯! So hereee weeee goooo💃💃!

IKESEN HEADCANON 💗⚔:

MITSUHIDE CELEBRATING YOUR BIRTHDAY🎉🎂🎊✨:

Mitsuhide loved you so much❤😘, you were the bright sun🌞 of happiness & love in his life💞, he always regretted staying away from you due to his long missions😔 which is also very important for the future of the country🇯🇵.

You also knew that he often got troubled due to this thought of unable to spend more time with you☹ so you used to gently ease all his worries by sitting on his lap💗😍, embracing him into your warm hug 🤗💛while he wrote his hundred of letters✉.

A NIGHT BEFORE YOUR BIRTHDAY:

Mitsuhide was as usual working on his table, writing letters into late night✍, when you were keeping him company while doing your commission work on the other side of room😊. Mitsuhide kept glancing at you from time to time when you were busy concentrating into your work✍👀. Oh the way his heart ached thinking he couldn't drop his work 😞 & enveloped you in his arms tightly and never let go🤗 as he had to complete his loads of work or else he would not be able to spend your special day💗 with you which he can never let it happen, BIG NO🙅🏻‍♂️! He sighed internally to himself😕. You suddenly dropped your work👀 and went towards him and settle down yourself on his lap and enveloped him in your warmth🤗💗.

"Hmmm, what's wrong Asha😁? Did my little mouse missed me so much👀🐭💗?", he said with a soft chuckle writing his letter while holding you close to him with his other arm🤗💗, already wanting to drop his letters and focus his attention solely on you😘💗. You could see the exhaustion clearly on his face😅. "I should ask you the same question but I missed hugging you like this, yes🤗💗!", you said with a soft smile. "Oh my!", Mitsuhide chuckled and patted your head with his other hand happily🥰.

"You have been secretly stealing glances at me👀 & frowning🙁 since I don't know how long so I knew you were missing me & I know that your work is very important as your hands didn't stopped for a moment since you entered this room✍ so I don't want to stop doing your work but atleast I also don't want you to feel alone💗 or exhausted which is the reason I am hugging you so that you can feel at ease🤗 & don't miss me so much😂 but I also get to share your pleasant warmth😍❤!", you said nuzzling into his chest.

His heart thumps loudly in his chest hearing your words 😲 *badump*💓 *badump*💓 *badump*💓. Only you can make his heart race this way, sometimes you surprise him so much with your capability of reading his face through his kitsune mask even when he is not aware of it himself😳🤐. He cleared his throat, "My dear little one, what about your work, is it done😏?", Mitsuhide asked gently looking at you. "Hmmm, it can wait😎! I want to keep staying in your warmth, it feels so relaxing & I feel so safe in your arms😍🤗💗!", you said with such a relaxed & happy smile which melted most of his exhaustion away and re-energized him so much🥰💁🏻‍♂️.

"You are a miracle in my life, my dear Asha✨😘!", Mitsuhide said kissing you gently on your lips. "Stop it🙈❤!", you said blushing & hugging him tighter🤗, the tip of your ears bright red😳. "Heh😏! So amusing😆!", Mitsuhide chuckled and continued doing his work while stroking your hair gently, feeling refreshed🥰. After a while when his work was finally completed, he looks down to found you sleeping with a very happy expression😴💗. Trust me, if his heart was racing before💓, it has gone out of control now seeing your sleeping face😴, your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, your soft breathing tickling him a little😳, "So cute😍😘, fufufufu😂💗", said Mitsuhide gently laughing while he kissed the top of your head again😘 *NOPE, he is definitely not blushing* and carried you princess-style to the bed & got a very good night rest cuddling with you in his arms🤗😴.

NEXT MORNING:

You woke up from the soft kiss on your cheek😘💗 and caress on your hair. "Mitsuhide☺️", you murmured sleepily rubbing your eyes while he looks at you with a very fond and loving gaze combined with a soft smile on his face😍💗✨. He chuckled softly looking at your adorable & curious expression😂.

"Wishing you a very happy birthday, my dearest Asha💗😍🥰❤😘!", he said kissing you on your forehead and wrist😘 which makes your cheeks burn with happiness😳❤ and heart thumping loudly in your chest💓. "Thank you so much❤🙈!", you said hiding your face behind your palms & hugging him🤗. "Oh my little mouse🐭💗, you made my heart ache by hiding yourself from me😂😏!", he said while trying to remove your hands from your face gently, smirking at you. "I am not hiding from you🙈🏃🏻‍♀️!", you said trying to get away from him. "Your actions tell me the opposite😏😂!", Mitsuhide said as he caught you in his arms as you both playfully roll over each other, laughing happily🤣💗😍. Finally you rested yourself over him, hearing his heartbeat was the best music for you💓🎶 while Mitsuhide wrapped his hand around your back and other cradling your head gently🥰❤. You smiled giddily in his arms🥰. "You remembered my birthday😲? I thought you must have forgetten😏!", you asked. "My😏, how can I forget the day when the most precious love of my life came in this world🥰❤😘😍🤗😇?", he replied with a very grateful and happy tone. You kissed him on his cheek in answer, "I love you❤😘!". "I love you too, my sweetest Asha🥰💗!", said Mitsuhide with a gentle smile.

"Today, I warn you that I will follow you everywhere like I used to do when you were under my watch in early days😏😎😂!", said Mitsuhide smirking at you. "YOU ARE ON LEAVE TODAY😱?!", you exclaimed loudly with excitement🤩. Cue: Error in Mitsuhide's hearing👂🏻. "Yes, my dear Asha, I would hate to leave you alone on this special day😏💗😍😘!", said Mitsuhide laughed rubbing his ear😂. "Thank you, thank you, thank youuuu sooooo much😘❤😍💗🤗😇!", you said hugging him again, almost jumping with excitement while he hugged you back with the same smile on his face🥰❤. "So, Mitsuhide, I, Asha, your dearest little mouse🐭 order you to follow me everywhere today!", you said clearing your throat and mimicking the haughty tone of Nobunaga😏😎. Mitsuhide's smirk grew wide😏 as he bow down before you🙇🏻‍♂️, "As you wish, my dear👸🏻💗!", you both burst out laughing together🤣💯.

"I am going to take a bath quickly now so we can enjoy the day together🚿!", you said giggling😂, eyes shining with excitement🤩😂. "May I join you😏?", Mitsuhide asked with a teasing tone bending down to match your height, looking into your eyes👀 with his handsome smile😏. Cue you: ERROR 404, brain not working😳🤯. "Damn it, not again, Mitsuhide😳🙈💗!", you blushed furiously while running out of your room. "How adorable🤣💗😏!", Mitsuhide laughs again.

When you both get ready for the day, Mitsuhide sit behind you and comb your hair with a huge smile on his face😍💗 while you were trying to keep the blush off from your cheeks seeing the genuine happiness on his face😳❤. It reminded you of the days before your infiltration adventure together for the first time as fake husband & wife😂❤. You let out a smile of nostalgia🥰, your heart was thumping loudly in your chest💓 while his massage felt so good💆🏻‍♀️, you couldn't restrain your sighs of pleasure😌❤. Cue Mitsuhide trying to stifle his laughter and equally enjoying your reactions🤭😍💗. "Don't you dare😳😠!", you said with a deep blush on your face. "Okay, okay, little one😂😍😂!", Mitsuhide said with a huge smile on his face. He did your hair💆🏻‍♀️ and makeup💄 for the day still your face gave such a radiant glow🥰, you were looking so beautiful💃 that even he got awestruck😳💓. Trust me when I say that Mitsuhide is expert in making you beautiful & relaxed so much more than the modern era beauticians💯😏😎. He would finally finish your look with his bellflower hairpin on your hair and looked at you with a satisfied smirk😏 before kissing your forehead gently😘💗😍.

"To see that you don't run away from me, give me your pinky finger🤙🏻😏❤", Mitsuhide said with a kitsune smile🙂. "Hm? What are you planning again🤔😏?", you asked confused but still went along with it🤷🏻‍♀️. He tied a red string on your little finger and tied the other end of the thread on his little finger🔴🧵 and smirks at you😏. "Ohhh, youuuu😲, I will not run away but still, this seems fun😂!", you said giggling. "That's my little girl, Asha😎💗!", Mitsuhide patted your hair and it felt so good, if you were a dog, Mitsuhide could legit see you were wagging your tail🐶💗.

You dragged him down holding his long scarf and pouted at him☹. "Oh my bold little one😏💗, what do you want🤔😏❤?", Mitsuhide smirked. "Hmph🙍🏻‍♀️!", you turned your back at him. Mitsuhide chuckled and drew you close in his arms😂🤗💗. "Don't be angry little one, okay, show me your cute face🥰😘😏", Mitsuhide whispered in your ears. He cupped your cheeks gently in his hands and leaned close towards your lips👄 and you closed your eyes expecting his kiss😌. "Milord, I-", Kyubei entered and froze with this face-> 👁👄👁, Mitsuhide-🤦🏻‍♂️ & Asha-Gah😱. "Nevermind me, the weather is very beautiful for romance so please continue😏💗, also wishing you a very happy birthday, Milady💗😇!", said Kyubei as he slides the door back closed🚪. "Was that a smirk on his face😳? But nooo, wait, Kyubei, it's not😱😳-", you said as you tried to follow but dragged back with the string on your finger😳. "Oh my, you hurt my feelings💗😏", Mitsuhide said with his foxy smile and before you could say anything else, he gave you the most tender yet passionate kiss💏 which made your mind went blank😳. "How was it😏? Fufufufu-😂", Mitsuhide smirked, chuckling at you. "Great, I guess🙈💯🤷🏻‍♀️😏?", you blushed and acted high. "Hoooh~😏💗😘🤗", said Mitsuhide as he nuzzled your cheek. You both would play with your dear pet fox, Chimaki and cuddle with her for a while together💗🦊😍😘🤗.

You two went outside the room to greet other warlords for the day💗😏🥰🤝🏻 and when you both were walking down the hallways with your fingers tied with each other in between, every maid & vassals were giggling🤭💗 & blushing🙈 seeing you both together happily😂🥰, everyone wishing you good health & happiness😇💗💯 on your birthday along the way with Mitsuhide sticking by your side with his kitsune smile😏💗. Kyubei be like- You are doing great, Milord😉👏🏻! Not you too, Kyubei👁👄👁! "You are soooo close, everyone are looking at us🤨😳!", you said to him. "Oh my😏! Sorry dear, I can't fulfill yout request as you ordered me😏❤!", Mitsuhide smirked. "Damn it🤦🏻‍♀️!", you slapped your forehead and giggled😂💗.

"Lord Mitsuhide, you love our kind & beautiful chatelaine very much, don't you😏❤🤭? Princess, see the way, he is following you all around👀❤, you both are so adorable👫🏻!", said one maid happily🥰. "Obviously, that's not even a question, she is the queen of my heart👸🏻💗 and she will guide my path with her light💛🌞✨ & bless me with her love forever❤💯, don't you, my dear🥰?", said Mitsuhide looking at you with a very soft smile. Your mask is breaking sneki boi🗣! "Uh...Uhmm....Yes...🤐😳🙈", you went speechless seeing his love for you and tried to run away but wrong move as you landed on his sturdy chest because of the string🤗. Cue you both staring deep into each other eyes👀💗. LOUD HAPPY & SHOCKED GASPS ALL AROUND😱💗😍👏 from all vassals & maids.

There was a loud whistle which broke their trance😚 and yes, it came from our one-eyed dragon, Masamune😎, "This is so awesome!". "Geez, get a room, will you🤦🏻‍♂️?", said Ieyasu grumpily but with a fond look in his eyes😊. Don't lie, you are definitely interested in watching a romance, I can see it, Ieyasu👁👄👁. "Oh my😏!", Mitsuhide smirked. You blushed seeing all eyes on you & Mitsuhide👀❤. "Oi Mitsuhide, you better make her happy today🙍🏻‍♂️!", said Hideyoshi frowning at him. "You don't need to worry, mother hen😏!", said Mitsuhide with a smirk. "Who is your mother--🗣" "Hideyoshi, let them enjoy their day off together😏, Mitsuhide, you are ordered to make her happy💗 & give all your love to her today😏❤!", said Nobunaga with a proud smirk of his own. You could definitely see the amusement in Nobunaga's eyes😏👀❤ as your cheeks went red seeing his huge grin😳. "Obviously, Milord😏🙇🏻‍♂️!", said Mitsuhide bowing down with a smirk. "Do enjoy your day together, Asha-san, Mitsuhide-san😇❤😍✨!", said Mitsunari with his angelic smile. "They will even without you telling them😒💢", commented Ieyasu. "Ieyasu, be nice--🗣", Hideyoshi scolded him. "Tch😒!" "Yes💯😏! But do return right after the sunset🌅, as we are holding a birthday feast for our dear & awesome lass👸🏻💯❤! Don't be late😏!", said Masamune with his tiger-like grin🐯😁. You both nodded happily at your best friends as you waved them goodbye❤😏🥰👫. All the warlords were grinning including Hideyoshi and Ieyasu seeing the string that attached you both to each other😏😊😆🥰😇.

You both went together👫 to a shrine⛩ to pray for your wellbeing🙏🏻😇💯. You became a little emotional as you missed your parents on your birthday😢. Mitsuhide hugged you & wiped your tears🤗, "Little one, I didn't believe in gods in my early life but since you came into my life💗, I am so thankful to each & every god for bringing you into my life and your parents for creating such a gentle, loving & bright soul💗✨🙇🏻‍♂️, I promise to love & protect you with my whole heart & life till my last breathe🤗❤💯!", said Mitsuhide, his eyes moist as he bowed his head towards you🙇🏻‍♂️. "Mitsuhide, thank you so much for loving me😢💗", you let out a beautiful smile as you hugged him🥰🤗, your heart feeling extremely warm by his genuine declaration of love✨❤.

You both went to your favourite restaurant 👫 and you were given lots of delicious food🍲🍡🍵 absolutely free by the shopkeeper because you both are regular at their place✨💯🥰. Actually the shopkeeper loves and ships you both together😍💗✨🤭. You both would sip tea and talk on random things together😂😏💗. Mitsuhide would feed you happily😏, expressing his love for you through his gestures like staring at you lovingly😍, rubbing the corners of your mouth gently clean after you finished eating the food💗. Mitsuhide even let you feed him the delicious food, no matter, he can taste it or not, your happiness is the most important thing to him💗😏, he would even go as far as to say that the food is extremely delicious😋❤ making you laugh loudly🤣. "Did you suddenly regain your sense of taste😏😂🤭?", you asked him, giggling. "No but I can sense the love by which you are feeding me, my dear Asha😘😍🥰!", said Mitsuhide with a gentle smile💗. Cue you blushing even more at his sweet words, smiling to yourself🙈❤🥰. The soul of singles are crying! Can you hear me?! Stop being cute, gawd🗣😭!

You both would go to horseriding but it would be a reverse scenario🐎. "Mitsuhide😏?", you called him. "Yes, Asha❤😏?", he turned towards you. "Sit behind me😎!", you said cheerfully as you mounted on his large horse🐎. "Oh my, I have taught you well😲😏😎!", said Mitsuhide surprised at your initiative. "Oh yeah😏!", you exclaimed loudly riding your horse. "Oh dear, be slow😱!", said Mitsuhide pretending to be afraid😏 he is actually enjoying it so much🥰💗. "Oh comeon! I am riding at normal pace, Mitsuhide😏😂😎🏇!", you said laughing at his scared expression. Cue-Mitsuhide blowing in your ear🌬. "GAH😱! MITSUHIDE😱! Do you want both of us to fall off this horse🗣?!", you exclaimed anxiously taking control over the reins again. "I would not let that happen😏💗, also I couldn't resist teasing you😏, my dear little one🥰😘!", said Mitsuhide snuggling close towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, closing his eyes, enjoying your scent and gentle breeze of his surroundings on his face💗🥰. You sighed happily😌 seeing the expression of happiness💗 & complete *I trust you* look💯❤ on his face as you ride faster🏇. "I was initially afraid of riding using one hand due to the string but it sure is a great deal of fun than I expected😂😎!", you laugh happily🤣. "My brave little mouse💯🐭💗!", said Mitsuhide complimenting you on your growth since the time you came to the Sengoku era🥰❤💯.

Mitsuhide would take you to the special game it involves shooting obviously, like we are talking about Mitsuhide, right😏❤? "Mitsuhide, stop it😱😳!", you said literally dragging his arm, smiling awkwardly at the shopkeeper😅. "Why, little mouse😏💗🔫?", he smirked. "You have almost bought the entire shop, stop it😱🤦🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️! It's really more than enough for me😩!", you said as you looked towards your bunch of beautiful prizes won by him for you🏆. R.I.P shopkeeper😵. "Okay, if you say, my little mouse🐭❤! Pack these all😏!", said Mitsuhide smirking at the shopkeeper. "Yes, Lord Mitsuhide😳🙋🏻‍♂️!", the shopkeeper nodded. "Well, you are awesome as always😎💗💯, I have to admit it😏❤, hehehe😂😘🤗!", you said patting his head standing on your tiptoes like he usually does to you to compliment him💯. Mitsuhide.exe.has.stopped.working. "Why, thank you, my dear Asha😳😏💗!", said Mitsuhide with a forced smirk after clearing his throat *ahem* . HIS POOR HEART CAN'T HANDLE THIS CUTENESS, SAVE HIM PLEASE💓💓💓💓😳😳🤯🤯.

"Ah! I am tired🙆🏻‍♀️!", you said stretching your arms while Mitsuhide chuckled looking at you, "Already, little mouse😂🐭💗?". "Only a little!", you said giggling and scratching your forehead😅😂. "Get on😏!", said Mitsuhide. "Huh😳🤔?", you turned towards him, confused. "Wha😳!", you exclaimed seeing Mitsuhide crouching down with his back towards you. "Are you really going to give me piggyback ride😳?", you asked. "Oh yes😏! We can't have you fall asleep in the middle of your birthday celebration, now can we😏🤗?", Mitsuhide smirked at you. "But don't you dare call me heavy🤨!", you said skeptical of his offer. "😳..Hahahaha🤣🤣! No, no, I promise😂! You are very cute already😘🤗, now hurry little mouse🐭💗!", Mitsuhide burst out laughing🤣 and you get on his back and he easily carry you towards the cherry blossoms🌸❤, you couldn't stop smiling yourself🥰❤. He would lay your head down on his lap and stroke your hair with a very happy smile on his face❤🥰, even humming softly to you🎶❤ which would obviously make you so happy and you would feel like you are literally in heavens💗, his magical voice & hands❤🎶, no wonder you would fall asleep for a quick nap😴❤ and Mitsuhide would enjoy this beautiful and gentle feeling of warm fluttering in his heart looking at your innocent face💓🥰🤗😍.

You both would play various games with the town kids happily like for example: catch me, hide and seek, etc😍🤗❤, thr townspeople obviously surprised by the way Mitsuhide deals with kids😱💗, like his foxy smirk is still there but there is an air of gentleness around him with the kids❤🤗. Mitsuhide would decorate your head with the rose crown with a soft smile as you grinned bashfully😁💗, the kids would obviously wonder the purpose of your tied fingers😳🤔. "We are also playing a game together, you see😏!", said Mitsuhide smirking at them. "Asha-san, why does your cheeks look like tomato🍅🤔?", asked a kid. "No-nothing kids...he is ri-right...😳😅", you said, stuttering & blushing while Mitsuhide chuckled at you "Hoooh~😏!".

You both would go to the top of the flower hill to enjoy the sunset together and gaze at Azuchi from top view🌄 🏯🤝🏻, enjoying the moment resting your head on his shoulder & him on your head❤😍💗, you both would definitely talk about the journey of your love together: first meet, obstacles, confession💗🎶🥰. You accidentally stumbled on your step😱 & before Mitsuhide could catch you😳, you both went rolling down the flower field🌺 BECAUSE OF THE STRING😂🤣! "AH😱!" "Oh my😏!" "Are you okay? Hehehehe🤣💗!", you asked with a sheepish smile😳😅. "You are so clumsy, my little mouse🐭💗!", said Mitsuhide laughing pulling your cheek💗🤣🥰. "It happened by accident😛, let's go back now, everyone must be waiting😉😂!", you winked at Mitsuhide before mounting on the horse and extending your hand towards him & he will smirk at you & gladly accept it💗😏, "Yes, my dear little mouse💗🤝🏻!", as you both ride on his horse back towards the Azuchi Castle🏇🏯.

"Wishing you a very happy birthday, fireball🔥😏🎉🎊! Keep entertaining me like you always do😏👍🏻!", Nobunaga said with a smirk. "Is that a compliment🤨?", you asked raising your eyebrows at him. "Yes Asha, here is your gift😏❤😎!", said Nobunaga extending his gift towards you. You opened the box to find 1 big jar of konpeito🍬. "Hmm😏!", smirked Nobunaga, nodding proudly to himself. "Uh, konpeito, Nobunaga😳?", you asked confused. "What😏😳? I am giving it to you from my secret treasure😏!", Nobunaga replied with a smirk on his face. "Where did you hide the konpeito, Lord Nobunaga😠?!", exclaimed Hideyoshi angrily. "Damnn🤦🏻‍♂️!", Nobunaga slapped his forehead. "Thank you🤣🥰❤!", you said happily. Ieyasu gave you a sewing kit as a gift, all the while blushing to himself. Uh Ieyasu, are you okay, so good👁👄👁? Mitsunari gave you the book as a birthday gift as that you wanted to read for a while📕💜 with angelic smile😇. Hideyoshi gave you an imported perfume🥰💚 while Masamune gave you a food basket as a gift😏😆😋. Even Kasugayama warlords sent you gifts😍😏🎁💗-> Kenshin: expensive sake🍶, Shingen: sweet buns & letter of love towards his goddess which would be burn to ashes by Mitsuhide☺️🔥, Yukimura: makeup kit & Sasuke: ninja tools & Kennyo: prayer beads📿. You were so grateful receiving immense love from everyone💜😍🥺😇. "Hm? Where did Mitsuhide suddenly disapppear😳🤔?", you wondered looking around.

Mitsuhide then came out giving a majestic dance performance🕺🎭 on account of your birthday😍💜🎉🎊🥳 describing his boundless love❤ for you wearing the most beautiful costume & a very handsome smile on his face😏💗, his movements so graceful & emotions so overwhelming🥺❤ taking you entirely by surprise😳 & you couldn't help yourself falling for him once again💓😍😇😢. "Wow Mitsuhide😍💗!", you exclaimed, clapping your hands excitedly👏🏻😍, your smile filled with happiness🥰💛, eyes moist with love for him🥺💗.

You ran towards him to hug him tightly🥺🤗💛 but Masamune grabbed your shoulder and stopped you😆🐯, "What happened, Masamune🤔?", you turned towards him confused. "Lass👸🏻! The real surprise is yet to be revealed😏!", Masamune blindfolded you. "Huh? Masamune? Mitsuhide? What are you doing😳?", you asked searching for your lover💛. "Here is my gift for the most beautiful and precious person in my life❤, I poured all my love for you in preparing this gift for you💗, I thank you once again for blessing me with your love💓, strength🤝🏻 & light✨🌞 and hereby I am wishing a very happy birthday to my dear love, Asha❤😘🥳💛🎊🎉", said Mitsuhide as he gave a box to you🥰.

You removed the cover of the box when Masamune opens your blindfold which made your eyes went wide with shock😲😍❤. There was a blue kimono with the beautiful design of the bellflowers, it was so elegant that went so perfectly with your beauty👘💗😍💙. "You made it for me😢💙?", you asked turning towards him extremely surprised. Mitsuhide nodded with a gentle smile🥰, "I thought I should gift you something made by me💗 which would match your beautiful hairpin and I think it came out really well😏💯!", said Mitsuhide caressing your cheeks😘💙. "Lord Mitsuhide asked for our guidance regularly for making you a perfect kimono💙😍!", said a seamstress happily. "He really loves you so much princess for he could easily buy it but he made it all by himself for you staying up during night since last week😍💙💗🌌!", said the other seamstress. "That's the reason you came so late😱....Mitsuhide..I mean..How should I describe my happiness right now🥺❤? I-Thank you so much❤, this has been the best birthday for me🥺🥰😇💗!", you said with a beautiful smile but tears of happiness bursts and rolled down your cheeks nonetheless❤😭✨. You hugged him tightly🤗 and Mitsuhide gently strokes your hair💛🥰. "I love you so much💗, nothing can make me as happy as you do💗🥰, thank you for loving me✨❤🥺!", you said💗, immensely grateful😇🥺❤. "You are welcome & I will always love you💗✨!", Mitsuhide said with a soft smile😍💛. LOUD CHEERS ERUPT✨🎉🎊🥳!

You both cut a delicious birthday cake made by Masamune🎂❤😋, you both perform a romantic couple dance with the traditional japanese handfan grabbing all eyeballs & excitement 🎉🎊🥳👀🕺💃💛😏🥰✨! Then you😍 and Mitsuhide☺️ joins other warlords smirking Nobunaga😏 & Masamune😆 grabbing grumpy Ieyasu🤨 & Hideyoshi🥰 grabbing excited mitsunari😇 along with vassals🎉 around in your group dance happily & they haven't done something this crazy before in their life💛🤣🥰❤. Then everyone ate their food, enjoyed their drinks Masamune-😵, all thanks to kitsune🦊 and chatted happily over random topics💬.

As the celebration comes to close🎉🎊🥳✨, Mitsuhide carried you princess-style in his arms😏💛 towards their room as you were tipsy😍😳😂, fufufu, your red cheeks were such an adorable sight for him😏💛😍 and you both made love to each other💏💗✨ oh la la~🤭❤. That's how your birthday ends...💃!

I hope you enjoyed reading it❤, likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated💃! Thank you so much🤗💗😘.

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emletish-fish · 3 years

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7. what is you favorite sentence/paragraph? read it to us! (asker can choose what fic) (x)

I chose three! One from each of my 'big fics'. No Zombies, Worst Prisoners and Good Boys under the cut:

NO ZOMBIES:

No Zombies was a delight to write. I had pretty much the whole idea from the get-go, (of a returned style AU with Hector coming to spend time with the family in the modern world). I finished it quick - and it's not too long (side-eyeing Good Boy and Worst Prisoner). It was the first fic where I felt like I really "stuck" the landing. I was quite flexible with my original outline, but I still knew where the journey ended. It ended exactly how I wanted it too - happily but with a bitter-sweet note.

The emotional core of this story is how Elena, family matriach, who is so gruff and no-nonsense, who despises Hector in the films, and who has such a warm heart under such a grumpy exterior would slowly soften and come to love Hector, (and how she grows as a person because of this and becomes more comfortable showing love/emotions to her family). It was like a platonic slow-burn as she learns to understand Hector better - which is why this bit is my favourite because it's where she starts to really feel fond of him for the first time:

“Well, I'm just glad I'm a better teacher for him than watching old Ernesto De La Cruz movies.” Héctor had replied with a wry smile. “It's probably because I'm so much more handsome than that butt-chinned, over-the-top ham.”

“Because you're a pointy-chinned, over-the-top ham?” Elena replied, feeling surprising witty. She never made teasing jokes like this normally, but it was so easy with Héctor.

He looked mock-offended. “I'll have you know, my chin is wonderful and I've given it to several of your grandchildren, so there.”

If Elena was a different person, she probably would have pulled Héctor into a warm, laughing hug then. She might have told him seriously that Miguel had always been difficult for her. He felt things so strongly and got so upset and emotional – she'd always struggled with how to help him, how to calm him. Miguel was so happy now. She knew that was because of Héctor.

She might have told Héctor that he was at least six thousand times the musician, eight thousand times the teacher, and ten thousand times the man that Ernesto De La Cruz was.

But Elena was who she was.

Instead she said “Idiot,” and ruffled his stupidly messy hair rather fondly.

She told herself she wasn't warming to the fool musician, but she knew it was a lie.

GOOD BOY:

My current work. It's another platonic slow-burn, but this time set in the Cobra Kai universe with son and father pair - Robby Keene and Johnny Lawrence. In the show, these two characters have such a dysfunctional relationship that is so full of miscommunications and missed chances, and they genuinely want a better relationship (and it would be so healing for both of them! Do not get me started!) I lean much more into the magical realism in this story, as I turned Robby into a dog (Animal transformation - PIXAR's Brave style), so that he could immediately get the cuddles and easy affection he so clearly needs.... because I have never seen a more touch/affection-starved character aside from Zuko in ATLA.

This also gave Robby a chance to really understand, not only his father, but the other people in his cicrcle. He discovered he had a support network. He got to know he was loved by many. he got to witness the actions people would take as they searched for human-him (not knowing that he'd been turned into a dog). And it gave Johnny a chance to learn how to take care of something, feel needed, and express his love for his son without the weight of their complicated history/his own trauma hanging over him. It was hard to pick a favourite, but I will say the Johnny-stream-of-conciousness chapters are definitely the easiest/most fun to write. One of my favourite bits is in the first one, The queen of ice-cream runaway when Johnny tells Robby about when Laura (his grandmother) found out Shannon was pregnant and she was going to be a grandmother.

It's the first inkling Robby gets that while his father wasn't there for him and he was neglected a lot, Johnny did his best to keep the bad shit from his own childhood away from Robby as his own way of showing care. It hints at the deep and damaging abuse Johnny endured. When he finally had a say with his own kid, he would have done anything to protect Robby from feeling the same. I'd say here is where Robby really begins to warm to his Dad;

Then I told her our chosen name and she said I was a dumbass and Swayze was a terrible middle name, and we had to change it to some shit like Alastair or something. She thought he should have a rich sounding middle name. And I say Mom, Alastair sounds like some lame-ass insurance broker who upskirts his secretary and then cries as he jerks off to the pictures, what else you got? She thought Sebastian, and that was worse! What a pussy name. Sebastian is going to be sitting in the little french patisserie cafe drinking the tiny-ass coffee for dolls and eating the éclair with his prissy finger tips. I already want to kick Sebastian's ass. Who wouldn’t? I’m not going to give my kid a name that is going to get his ass kicked.

And she couldn't talk, cause she named me after Johnny Cash, just cause she liked his music. And she couldn't think of a middle name at the time, so I didn't get one. Thank goodness. I could have ended up Johnny Alastair and had to kick my own ass.

So Swayze stayed.

Then she mentions how she and Sid can help out, so I didn't need to do the two jobs, stupidly long hours thing. And we need the money. I know we need the money. But my whole body froze and I just went No. None of that for little Robby Swayze. ...

... She’s going on about spending Sid’s money on Robby and I just...I can’t. I can't allow it. Cause I knew how he would be, and the way he would treat that kid. So I tell her, no thank you. Not a fucking cent mom. Sid’s not getting to feel like he owns a hair on Robby’s head. That motherfucker can go jump. You thought we needed Sid’s money when I was a kid. You decided it was better for me, and that was your choice. I did not get a vote in that. But this is my kid, and this time it is my call, and I am choosing no. I’m not going to have Sid make my kid feel like he has to apologise for existing every day. I'm not going to have Sid treat my kid the way he treated me. I will never need money that badly. I will never put my kid through that. I'll work myself to the bone doing 20 hour days before that. I'll work on the 40th floor without a harness before that. I will sell my fucking organs before it comes to that. Not a cent mom.

WORST PRISONER:

My 'what if Zuko made friends with the Gaang early on?" AU that then turned into a three-book long saga (and I will return to it, Worst Prisoner readers - Thank you for you patience). It does have evenutal Zutara, but the focus is really on the Gaang + Zuko as a whole, and all the interpersonal relationships. I'd say there is more gen-shipping around Zuko as a central character, as Iroh & Zuko, and Sokka & Zuko are both given equal prominence. in fact, all the friendships and familial relationships were equally important to me. (the book 3 Zuko & Azula stuff is so interesting, but it is ...less funny I guess.)

This fic is such a joy to write, and I really try and balance the humour with the bittersweet/sad parts, and one of the main sources of humor was the Sokka-Aang-Zuko -Katara qudrangle of dumbassery. I love the four of them together in book 1, and so many of their interactions were a hoot to write. But if I'd have to pick a favourite moment, it would be the moment in the deserter chapter in book 1, where they all decide to 'officially' be friends:

“Well, you can figure that out and find someone while I'm up in the Northern Water Tribe. Then when we finish up there, we'll come find you,” Aang offered.

“Really?” Zuko’s eyes were shining optimistically. It was a strange expression for him. Aang was so used to seeing him with a grumpy face.

“Really, I promise,” Aang said, feeling so glad that he could help Zuko go home.

“Yeah, I second that. If this means we won’t have to put up with you chasing us, I am in!” Sokka said. “Sheesh, you could have just asked ages ago!”

“You know, this means I was right,” Aang started to say, feeling very vindicated. The others looked at him curiously. “If we had just talked about friendship in the forest, we could have sorted this out weeks ago!”

“Boo, forest friendship!” Sokka said.

“Don't boo him,” Katara admonished, elbowing her brother.

“I agree with Sokka. There's no way I would have appreciated that speech weeks ago, Aang,” Zuko said.

Sokka smiled at Zuko for saying he agreed with him. It actually wasn't that rare of an occurrence, but it still seemed to surprise Sokka every time.

“See, Aang, forest friendship is bullshit,” Sokka said.

“I didn't say that!” Zuko cut in. “I just meant, maybe … I had to be dragged all over the Earth Kingdom by you guys ... and shot ... and taken to nonsense fortune tellers ... and I had to be forced to eat Sokka's truly terrible and disgusting cooking—”

“Oi!”

“—and I had listen to Aang lecture me about friendship and vegetarianism in the forest just so I could come here.” He looked around at the deserters’ camp site. “I dunno, maybe it was meant to be this way.”

“What are you saying? You want to be forest friends with Aang now?” Sokka asked accusingly.

“I mean, sure. If Aang will have me, we can be friends,” Zuko said, and looked uncertain.

“Yay! I knew you'd want to be my friend,” Aang said, feeling delighted.

He was so happy he had a Fire Nation friend again. Kuzon had been an amazing friend, even though he'd gotten Aang into so many sticky situations. He had already thought Zuko was his friend, but it was nice to make it official. Aang always knew the Fire Nation had good people in it too, and now he had been proven right. He jumped up and gave Zuko a huge hug.

#Emletish answers #Emletish writes #Fic: No Zombies #Fic: Good Boy #Fic: Worst Prisoner

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

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Blood in the Rivers: VII

A/N: I apologize for the wait. I hope you guys still like this little story of mine.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: T (Maybe M??) For Blood, allusions to smut, my continued overuse of italics, poorly written, soft confessions of feelings

Word Count: 8.3k (Someone please take my computer away)

Read Chapters I-VI here! Or on Ao3!

Chapter Seven: The Price of Happiness

All of Dorne was a delight to the senses. The food was better, the wine more tart, the air itself smelled sweeter and punctuated with the scent of salt of the ocean and the heat of the sun-warmed walls. It was paradise. Never in her life had she met a family more loving and open with their affections—or their squabbles. The Sand Snakes welcomed her with open arms and quelled most of the fears that turned Y/N’s stomach.

And having the company of Sansa and Arya gave Y/N an immeasurable amount of joy. Simply knowing they were alive and well and within her reach let a small bit of weight lift from her shoulders. All of them melded together into a strange camaraderie that Y/N quickly grew accustomed to. Arya trained with Obara, Elia, and Obella—and little Dorea would sometimes sneak away from her mother and Septa to try to keep up with the older girls. And Arya was insistent that Y/N join them at least three times a week. Sansa would sup with Nymeria and Tyene and would drag Y/N along when she wasn’t occupied with Ellaria and Oberyn. They would read to little Loreza to help her sleep. Sarella was still in Oldtown but had sent a raven with a kind word, welcoming Y/N into the fold.

All of it was…perfect. So perfect that Y/N was waiting for something terrible to happen to knock her from the pedestal of the happy life she’d created at Sunspear.

“You are quiet, My Tully,” Ellaria said as they sat together on the sand of the strip of beach just outside the fortress’ walls. A handful of handmaidens waited to be called, standing in Sunspear’s forgiving shadows, with a half dozen guards. Ellaria had stolen Y/N away from Manfrey Martell’s lessons. Oberyn’s cousin was the current Castellan of Sunspear and had been teaching Y/N the proper way of keeping the household and surrounding city running smoothly, as it had for centuries.

“I am enjoying the view,” Y/N replied as she watched Ellaria tie her skirts a little high around her waist as she wanted to wade into the water. Her four daughters were all laughing and splashing a few paces away, without a care and nearly infectious with their joy.

“We agreed to not lie to each other, My Tully. Nor keep secrets.” When she was finished tying her own, Ellaria pulled Y/N to her feet and made quick work of tying her skirts, too. She grasped her hands and led her out to the lapping water.

It was warm and clear—a far cry from the usually-muddy waters of the rivers around Riverrun. Ellaria continued to lead her in until their bundled skirts were in danger of getting wet from the shallow waves but did not release her grip even as they slowed to a stop. She pulled Y/N a little closer and brushed a kiss against her shoulder, exposed in the Dornish style dress Nymeria’s favorite seamstress had tailored especially for her in a pretty sky blue. The ugly scars from the arrow were exposed but very few paid them any mind.

“Tell me what is burdening you.”

“You will think me foolish,” Y/N murmured.

“Never.”

Y/N sighed and squeezed at Ellaria’s hands before wrapping her arms around herself. “Everything here is so…lovely. A paradise.”

“Just as I told you all those moons ago at that wretched wedding; I knew you had the right heart to make Dorne your home.”

It was almost as if Ellaria was trying to banish whatever gloomy thought Y/N had with kisses as she stole one from Y/N’s frowning mouth and then another as she started to smile. “And I am grateful to be here, to have you in my arms now—you and Oberyn both. To be welcomed to happily by your family. But I am worried…the gods have only afforded me this happiness to rip it away from me. Surely I cannot be this happy for the rest of my days.”

“Why do you think that your happiness must have limits? The gods delight in their creations. Why should we not delight in them as well?” Ellaria smiled and looked like a goddess herself in the sunlight and surrounded by clear, sparkling water. “Your happiness does not have a limit because the gods deem it so. Only you can determine how happy you are in this life. I have chosen to take every opportunity to seize happiness, joy, whenever I can. You have brought me such joy, My Tully. I want you to have the same—but you must let yourself.” Ellaria pulled Y/N close again and pressed another kiss to her mouth. “Will you let yourself?” She asked against her lips.

“I will try,” Y/N answered with a laugh.

A sudden splash of water had her sputtering and Ellaria chuckled. “You will,” Ellaria stated, wet fingers trailing against Y/N’s cheek.

Ellaria tasted like saltwater and sunshine when Y/N kissed her again. “I love you,” Y/N said, the words bubbling out of her throat before she could even think to stop them.

“My heart has been shared between you and Oberyn since I saw you at the market. I love you, sweet girl, and I will remind you of that fact every chance you give me.”

“You travelled through the Kingswood during a battle?” Y/N could feel her throat tightening with each passing word. Word had come to Oberyn that the Lannisters knew Sandor had been seen in Dorne. Ellaria’s words about embracing joy—and the fact that Ellaria loved her—had lifted her mood for the past handful of days but the news had quickly soured her disposition. She asked plainly what had happened on the way to Dorne with Sansa and Arya and expected to hear that he had taken the most benign route possible and then be on her way. That was not the case. “I told you to take her to safety-”

“The little bird’s alive, ain’t she?” Sandor griped. “She’s fine.”

“Thank the Seven,” she retorted, face still contorted with rage. “I cannot fathom your reason for endangering her—you know the Stone Crows-”

“Aye, the Stone Crows,” he mimicked, remembering the Mountain Clan men Tyrion had brought to King’s Landing and used as reinforcements around the castle during the Battle of the Blackwater. “Stupid bunch of brats with swords. They bleed just like the rest of the Lannister’s cunt forces.” But he dropped his voice and leaned close, letting the scent of blood orange he had on his tongue waft over her. “You were right to leave her care to me. I would never let any hurt come to her. Do not doubt that again.”

Y/N scowled. “And Arya? You were just letting her run about, killing people?”

“She is a little beast. There is no taming that one. You’re lucky I got her here without gagging her.” His burnt face twisted. “I’m sure you taught her that.”

“The only thing I tried to teach Arya was how to use a bow.” Y/N grumbled and rubbed at her temples. “But, thank you for seeing them here—safely. It means a great deal to me.”

“Did you truly kill Gregor?”

The question surprised her, as did the soft tone (as soft as Sandor could be, anyway). “I did.”

“Was it quick?”

“Not as quick as I would have liked.” Y/N sighed. “I am sorry I took that from you, your revenge.”

“You did what you had to do. He deserved what he got.” He glanced at the door to Sansa’s chambers. He had been assigned, by a smug Oberyn who knew that Sandor wanted to leave, to be Sansa’s sworn sword. “The Little Bird would say the gods were kind or some other stupid shit.”

“Are you certain seeing his rotting head would not quell some of that rage? To see he is truly dead? The Silent Sisters haven’t taken it for cleaning just yet.” It was still sitting in a box in one of the fortress’ undercrofts. (Arya had poked at it with the end of a quill and Sansa had steadfastly refused to look at the decomposing lump of flesh when Y/N had told them about her own ‘adventure’ in King’s Landing.)

“No,” he said, final and direct.

“Very well. But I am sure you will lay your eyes upon it eventually. Oberyn has said he wants it dipped in gold and strung up in chains within the throne room once it is clean.” Y/N looked at Sandor, truly looked at him. “Please, be kind to Sansa. While she is learning the ways of the world at Prince Doran’s behest, she still has a gentle heart. And she is very fond of you even if you and I both know nothing will come of this childish infatuation of hers.”

Sandor’s eyes narrowed but he did not say anything.

Y/N took a small step forward, knowing she needed to say this if only to sate the small bit of fear she had in her heart. “But if I ever catch you breaking her heart or using her as your brother intended to use me, I will make sure your skull sits next to his.”

“My lady!” Daisy dashed into the hall and barely cast a glance at Sandor. “Prince Oberyn is waiting for you in his solar.”

Y/N nodded and looked one last time at Sandor and received a half-hearted glare in return before she let Daisy lead her through the gilded, warm halls even though she had traversed this path too many times to count, often in the dark of the night. She tried to shake off the foreboding feeling of the Lannisters knowing Sandor was in Dorne and the annoyance that the swordsman also put Sansa and Arya in harm’s way with minimal success. Daisy left her side with a smile as they reached the opened door and Y/N sighed as she spied him sitting at his desk intensely focused on whatever task was set in front of him. Bits of parchment were scattered about. A well of ink was precariously perched near the edge. The entire room was draped in shades of ruby red and highlights of orange that shimmered in the sunlight that streamed in from the large windows, opened to let in the salted air from the ocean below. Sumptuous cushions were piled beneath the western window and a small table with a cyvasse board was set up across the room near the door that led to his bedchamber. He almost seemed to be a work of art she was fortunate to look upon—a god at rest captured by the finest artist the world had ever known. While she had readily admitted her love to Ellaria, she could never seem to find a time to say it to Oberyn. She knew she loved him, loved him like she loved Ellaria. But it seemed inappropriate to blurt it out over a meal or in the heat of some tryst. (And Ellaria found the entire situation hilarious.)

His head snapped up as he heard her footfalls and his lips pushed up into a smile as he set down his quill and waved her over. “Come here, my moonlight.” He reached out to her with ink-smudged fingers and pulled her into his lap as she laughed.

“What are you working on?” She asked, pulling the bit of parchment he was scratching at off the desk. It looked to be a correspondence to his brother Doran—at least that is what she assumed before Oberyn took it from her grasp and flung it over his shoulder.

“Nothing of importance.” He pressed a kiss just below her ear just to hear her laugh again as his grip squeezed around her waist. “I do have something from home for you though.” He patted at her thigh to have her stand and then he strode over to the single trunk in the corner and opened it. Something blue was clutched in his hand and his smile was contagious as he turned toward her. “Come, my moonlight. Let us see if it will suit you.”

Y/N did as she was bid and walked to his side. Blue velvet unfurled from his grip and she unconsciously reached out for it and let her fingers trace over the delicately embroidered, inky black trout at the center of the cloth. Small, red Pentoshi towers lined the hem in sparkling thread. As she pulled it closer, the faded scent of evergreens and her mother’s perfume met her nose.

Oberyn carefully pulled the cloak from her grasp and then set it upon her shoulders and fastened the aged silver clasps, fashioned to look like fish scales, onto her dress. It fit perfectly. He smiled as he said, “your father said it was the cloak he had made for your mother when they were married. Her bridal cloak—now your maiden’s cloak.”

Y/N flung her arms around his neck and held him tight. “Thank you. Thank you for this.” She knew exactly what it was when he had first pulled it from the trunk. Her mother had always wrapped her in the cloak when the air turned cold within the halls of her father’s keep. It would drag behind Y/N’s little legs to the delight of her mother who would then chase after her and scoop her daughter up into her arms. The cloak would be wrapped around her tightly to escape the chill by her mother’s careful hands. It was like she could hug her mother again in a strange sort of way.

Oberyn laughed as he returned the embrace. He pulled back just enough to press his lips to hers, delving his tongue into her mouth with ease and delighting in the happy sound it coaxed from her throat. His sneaking fingers slid to grab at her ass and smiled against her mouth as he did so.

“But I have a question for you.”

“And I shall answer.”

Oberyn looked at her, dark eyes shining in the sunlight but…the smallest bit of trepidation also seemed to color his face, too.

“What is it, my prince?” Y/N asked, voice soft.

“Is this truly what you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“I realize that I have pressed this all upon you like a man half-crazed. I did not even ask if you wanted to be married—or if you would prefer a life like Ellaria—or a life outside of Dorne and free of me when this war is over. I only had the agreement drawn up after you told me of Tywin’s intentions. I could have stolen you away after your betrothal to him was made public but I knew it would cause bloodshed—and you, my moonlight, have a gentle heart.”

Y/N smiled as she looked at him, heart squeezing. Knowing he further delayed his want for vengeance because he cared for her meant more than words could say. Her thumb swept across his cheeks and she savored the warmth he exuded. “You have a gentle heart, my prince. And I am blessed by the gods to know it.”

Oberyn kissed her softly. “My own mind can be a cruel place. And Stark—Robb—had mentioned how you never spoke of marriage when you were young. It was not something you ever wished of.”

“I was blessed by parents who loved each other fiercely. And Uncle Hoster knew he could never bring a match forward that my father would approve of so he did not try. A child loved as much as I was would only demand the same love in a marriage. It was made increasingly apparent that a loveless marriage was what most women had, especially women of my station. I would not marry if I did not love them. If I was not sure that my heart was safe.”

She could almost taste the words bubbling on his tongue as he opened his mouth, “and I know that I have hurt you-”

“I want to marry you, Oberyn.” She said with a smile, feeling silly, happy tears sting her eyes with Ellaria’s words once again ringing in her head. “I want to call you my husband and I want to be your wife.” Her heart was light and singing in her chest. It was true. She knew that with every fiber of her being.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“You love me,” Oberyn breathed. And then he was smiling at her as if she had hung the sun and stars.

“I love you.” And it was so easy to say.

Oberyn’s warm hands cradled her face and he pressed his mouths to hers. This kiss was the softest he had ever given her, almost reverent. “You love me,” he whispered into her panting mouth as he pulled her ever closer. “Tell me. Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.” The words were hummed, happy. “I will love you forever.”

And she believed him.

Y/N woke when she heard a tapping at her door.

“Y/N,” the voice whispered on the other side. “Are you awake?” The door creaked open and a small figure slipped in. Arya climbed into her bed and slipped beneath the silk sheets when Y/N waved her forward.

“What is wrong, Arya?” Y/N asked, pulling the younger girl close and trying to keep her eyes open. Dinner with Oberyn and Ellaria had lasted well into the night and was filled with sweet wine and spiced foods and heated kisses that seemed to eat time. The realization that they all loved each other left them drunk on each other’s presence and the wine certainly did not help. Her throat was sore from overuse and she could still feel phantom fingers between her thighs. She must have only been asleep for an hour before Arya knocked.

“Bad dream.”

Y/N hummed and pushed her fingers through Arya’s hair. If she was being honest, Y/N was almost surprised it took Arya this long to crawl into her bed. Sansa had done it at least a dozen times since Y/N had arrived at Sunspear. But Arya, genuinely, kept her hurt close to her chest so Y/N did not blame her for taking the time she needed.

“I keep seeing the Freys toss Mother’s body into the river.”

Y/N instinctively tightened her hold. She had not realized Arya had witnessed the Red Wedding. Sandor must have taken her to The Twins in hopes of reuniting Arya with Robb and Catelyn—a bloodbath greeted them instead.

“I see it over and over when I close my eyes. I want them dead. All of them. Every single Frey needs to be dead-”

“They will be. I’ll make sure of it.” Y/N pressed a kiss to Arya’s forehead. Despite her exhaustion, she meant her promise. All of them would meet The Stranger for their crimes. The joy Ellaria spoke of, that Y/N was quick adopting, seemed to have stretched to vengeance. There would be joy to see their enemies bleed. There would be joy to see them dead. “Even if I have to do it myself.”

“The Boltons, too,” Arya said, voice starting to tighten with unshed tears.

“Oh, yes. We’ll rip them out. Root and stem.” The traitorous Northern house would see a gruesome end, too. No matter if they were holding Winterfell or not.

Arya let herself cry then, curling farther into Y/N’s hold and Y/N rubbed her back with soft hums, letting the young girl finally express her grief. But, eventually, Arya’s sobs quieted to even breaths. She had fallen asleep on Y/N’s chest just as another knock came at the door. Sansa slipped into her room and Y/N found herself between the Stark sisters as the moonlight shone through the balcony opening. “A bad dream?” Y/N whispered as Sansa snuggled into the overstuffed pillow beside her.

Sansa shook her head. “I am happier than I have been in a long time. And I owe it all to you.” She reached out to grasp one of Y/N’s hands as it still rubbed at Arya’s back.

But Y/N shook her head. “You survived because you are strong, little one.”

“It is because of you that Arya is here, that we are alive. We are safe. Together.”

Y/N squeezed her hand. “You and your sister both have been through great and terrible trials. You must be there for each other.”

Sansa pressed closer and tightened her grip on Y/N’s hand. “Can you sing to us? Like you did when we were children?”

Y/N wanted to say that she and Arya were still children—just grown too quick by the terrors of the world. “What would you like to hear, little one?”

“Jenny’s Song. You sang that the night before you left Winterfell.”

“That is a sad song. Are you certain?”

Sansa nodded.

“High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts…”

Daisy flittered about her chambers, gathering a handful of dresses and chemises and folding them neatly into a pair of saddlebags. Prince Doran had sent Y/N a raven and requested that she, Oberyn, and Ellaria travel to the Water Gardens so he could make her acquaintance. “Truthfully, I have written Oberyn several times inquiring when I would meet you but he has taken it upon himself to hoard your time. If you are agreeable, I would have you visit the Water Gardens and would host a feast in your honor. Lords and ladies are already arriving so I hope to see you soon.” He signed the missive with a flourish.

When Y/N asked Oberyn about ignoring his brother’s requests to visit the Water Gardens he smirked and kissed her. “It is not a crime to want you all to myself.”

Y/N chided him with a smile and said she’d already sent a raven back to Doran stating that they would be there the following night. The palace Doran called home was only three leagues away along a pleasant, coastal road. Oberyn knew it well as he usually visited his brother once every fortnight. (“But I have been preoccupied, my moonlight!”)

“I can pack my own bags, Daisy,” Y/N said, noticing a strange rigidity to her friend’s posture as she went about her unnecessary task. She tugged at Daisy’s skirts like a child, slowing her from her quick pace. “Something is troubling you.” And then poor Daisy nearly collapsed in tears and Y/N hurried to wrap the other woman in her arms, shushing her sobs. When her cries quieted, Y/N held Daisy’s wet face between her hands. “Tell me. Let me help you.”

Daisy sniffled. “Daemon wants to marry me.”

“But that is happy news?” Y/N asked, genuinely confused. Daisy and Daemon seemed more in love than ever since coming to Dorne.

“Father will never allow it.” More tears trickled from Daisy’s eyes.

Seeing her dear friend so distraught pulled a heated type of anger from her chest and Y/N curled her hands tighter around Daisy’s face, making sure she listened. “Your father didn’t say anything when we were trapped during the Battle of Blackwater. He did not send a raven to see how you fared. He did not inquire after you after I moved you to Dorne out of a selfish desire to keep you by my side, to keep you safe. Tell me: do you want to marry Daemon?”

“I do,” she hiccupped. “More than anything. He even sent a raven to his lord father for his approval.”

“And he gave it readily, did he not?” she asked, already knowing the answer and watched as Daisy nodded. “Then you have no barrier. If Lord Allyrion requires a dowry, I will pay it. I will pay for the entire wedding if it means you smile again.” If Y/N was allowed to be happy then surely Daisy was, too. Her good, sweet Daisy.

“But Father-”

“Your father can come to Sunspear and speak to me if he thinks to stand in the way of your happiness.”

Daisy sniffled again and pushed out a shaking breath. “I would never ask you to-”

“You didn’t ask, Daisy. But I am telling you that I will not allow your father to keep you from being happy.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Daisy’s forehead and felt a bit of tension leave her shoulders. “You and Daemon are traveling with us to the Water Gardens. We can celebrate your betrothal alongside mine.”

Daisy’s smile was watery but sincere and she suddenly lunged forward to wrap her arms around Y/N in a tight hug. And Y/N was simply happy to see Daisy relieved of her turmoil—at least for a moment. And she meant what she said; she would fight Daisy’s father for her to marry Daemon. And she knew she would win.

The Stark sisters and the Sand Snakes met them at the gates of Sunspear and wished them a pleasant journey. “Please give Prince Doran my regards,” Sansa said before they departed. Y/N knew she missed Doran’s company and teachings, he had sent her away from the Water Gardens to Sunspear when he’d been given word that Y/N was coming to Dorne. And while Sansa liked not having to sneak through the halls to avoid Myrcella, Y/N knew she adored Doran and everything he taught her.

The ride was enjoyable and short and Y/N took the opportunity to let her mare run through the shallow waters. The horse was a gift from Oberyn, a traditional Dornish betrothal gift. Sand Steeds were a point of pride for the Dornish; could run for a night, a day, and another night without tiring or floundering. Most were treated as dotingly as children. The horse was as dark as night with a burnt orange mane and tail—Y/N had named her Qēlos, the High Valyrian word for star. She was the most beautiful horse that Y/N had ever seen and the smoothest ride she’d ever experienced.

But soon the palace of the Water Gardens crested on the horizon, rising from the sand with white and yellow stone and brining the scent of blood orange groves. Lush greenery spilled over the walls as did the sound of trickling water. The golden gates were opened by a pair of hooded guards who bowed as they passed. Servants lined the courtyard to welcome them and handle their horses and bags, each of them bowing in turn as well. Y/N barely had time to admire the beautiful, arching architecture of the palace before Oberyn and Ellaria both grabbed at her hands and all but pulled her inside. She craned her neck and looked everywhere she could as she was pulled this way and that, down a hall, around a corner, further into the shadowed halls by her eager betrothed and paramour. The entire palace seemed to hum with life. Chambers and apartments were filled with visiting lords and ladies. Servants were slipping by, arms filled with dresses or linens or food. Music whispered from around some other corner.

They eventually slowed in front of a beautiful white door banded with bronze and two guards nodded at Oberyn before pushing it open. The solar was filled with more white marble and fluttering white curtains that overlooked the manicured gardens and a handful of pools and fountains. The furniture was a warm, golden wood and every surface had a bowl of some sort of berry or wine or golden trinket or statue. A man in a wheeled chair was sitting behind the perfectly organized desk and looked up from his work with a smile as he heard the door open. His face was kind and greying black hair was cropped to his shoulders. Robes of orange hugged his thin shoulders and sparkled with golden thread.

“Doran, this is-”

Doran waved a hand and dismissed Oberyn’s introduction. “Lady Tully. We meet at long last.”

Y/N quickly curtseyed and placed her hand in his when he reached for her, smiling when he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “It is wonderful to meet you, Prince Doran.”

He patted her hand and then wheeled himself around the desk. “You are early. I would have met you at the gates.”

“We never keep your time tables, brother.”

Doran chuckled affectionately. “I know. But you are all here now. I will make the proper introductions at the feast tomorrow. I want you to enjoy my home before the wedding.”

“You will come to Sunspear, won’t you?” Ellaria asked with a smile.

Doran nodded. “I will be there next month for the festivities. I would not miss my only brother’s wedding. I would have preferred to have it earlier,” there was a pointed look at Oberyn who only smiled, unperturbed, “but I understand that Oberyn wanted you to be ‘settled’ in Sunspear before making you a Martell.”

Y/N smiled at Oberyn without thinking. It had been Oberyn’s idea to hold off on the wedding and she was grateful. Having the stretch of time, letting her heart settle, before her life changed again in another way was a quiet kindness that she would always hold dear.

“Did little Loreza enjoy the book I sent for her nameday?” Doran asked.

“She did,” Ellaria answered, “insisted on having Sansa read it every night.”

“Sansa sends her love,” Y/N quickly added.

“She is a fine lady. I was lucky to have her here despite the unfortunate circumstances.” It was said so earnestly that Y/N couldn’t help another smile splitting her face.

A quick knock at the door revealed Daisy, escorted by a beaming Daemon, carrying a familiar wooden box. They both curtseyed or bowed in turn before carefully setting the box on the edge of Doran’s desk and then excusing themselves, Daisy winking as she went and letting Daemon curl his hand around hers right before the door shut in its frame again.

An anticipatory silence stretched through the room as they all looked at the box. It was simple. No embellishments or special cuts of wood. It was just a box. But Doran reached out and dragged a finger across it like it was made of something precious.

“I shall like to speak with Lady Tully for a moment,” he said quietly without taking his eyes off the box.

“Of course,” Oberyn said before pressing a kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “We shall just be at the pools,” he added, mostly for Y/N’s benefit so she could know where to find them.

Ellaria also kissed her cheek before following Oberyn out, providing some comfort, and soon Y/N was left alone with the ruling Prince of Dorne.

Doran rolled back around his desk and gestured for Y/N to take a seat in the ornately carved chair across from him and she quickly settled onto the white linen cushion. She was equal parts nervous and hopeful as Doran gave her a soft look she couldn’t quite decipher. “I will admit that I had my reservations when your raven first arrived. Fostering your little wolf was not a part of my plan but it was a welcome surprise. Lady Sansa is quite the student. She would have made quite the formidable Princess of Dorne.”

Y/N cocked her head to side at that, wondering what he meant, but he pressed on.

“And now you have brought me a wonderful gift.” He opened the box, sliding the wooden cover off with ease and then reached inside. The oversized skull had been dipped in gold only a few days prior and glittered in the bright sunlight as Doran held it aloft. “To know he is dead has brought my soul a small reprieve of the ache it has felt for decades.” The sound of the skull hitting the desk as he set it down was low and heavy. His fingers spanned over the cap and his nails bit into the gold. “Oberyn has always been the viper in the grass—ready and willing to strike at a moment’s notice. A willful little brother who seemed to outshine the sun whenever he was happy and burn anyone who tempted his wrath.” Doran fixed her with his dark gaze. “But I am sure you have seen that firsthand.”

“I have,” Y/N answered.

Doran nodded and did not move his hand from the dead man’s head. “You are like him, aren’t you? A burning rage just simmering beneath your skin. But you are able to hold your wrath and ruin back to play the game.” He hummed and Y/N tried not to fidget in her chair like a child. Doran was more perceptive than almost everyone she had ever met and she was waffling between being impressed and being innerved. “If you can kill a beast like this and still be gentle, you will be a fine Martell.” His fingers finally lifted from the skull to reach out toward her again and Y/N readily placed her hand in his and smiled as he squeezed her hand. “Whatever you need, simply ask. I will make sure you receive it.”

The feast was a decadent affair. Filled with food and wine and music to delight every sense. And the assembled crowd had roared when Doran introduced her as, “Lady Y/N Tully—Slayer of the Mountain!” Oberyn kept a hand over her leg, dragging his fingers against her thigh and growing more and more bold as the night continued on until he was all but cupping her through the flowing blue silk of her skirts. Ellaria pressed berries against Y/N’s smiling mouth as she laughed, knowing exactly what Oberyn was doing.

The sticky night air had her pulling off the thin cloak she had about her shoulders, letting the golden Myrish lace pool around her waist. A few of the guests let their eyes linger on the scars on her exposed chest and back—or the thin bit of scarring across her cheek and then asked if she’d be willing to tell her story. Stating “I was shot by a fool” was infinitely less riveting than “I was able to evade The Mountain’s blade” but both stories gained her a bit of fanfare regardless. The golden skull was displayed in front of her on the table like a shining beacon of how she, a lady, brought a small bit of vengeance on behalf of the ruling family of Dorne.

“The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children.” It was something Manfrey had told her during her studies, face solemn and sad. And Y/N watched almost every person revere the gold-dipped skull in a sort of wicked appreciation before they were formally introduced.

The only person who seemed unnerved by it was Princess Myrcella, tucked into the arm of Prince Trystane. She was too polite to wrinkle her nose at the display of carnage and vengeance but pointedly did not look at it even as Trystane marveled at how large the skull was.

“Dorne suits you, Princess,” Y/N said to Myrcella knowing the young Princess was just as much out of her element as Y/N had been in King’s Landing.

“You as well it would seem,” Myrcella said with a small smile. “I hope to speak with you about…about your duties here. Prince Doran has said you’re very capable.”

Y/N nodded with a smile of her own. “I shall answer any question you may have, Princess.”

Trystane, heir to the throne of Dorne, was definitely his father’s son but seemed to have inherited a bit of a flirtatious streak from his uncle as he managed to snag a berry from Ellaria’s bowl while getting Y/N to agree to a dance. He winked as he walked away with a furiously blushing Myrcella still on his arm and Oberyn laughing into the night air.

“Careful, my prince, it seems Trystane is trying to steal our Tully,” Ellaria mused with a sly smile.

Oberyn leaned close to press a kiss against Y/N’s throat and smirked when she shivered. “Is it true, my moonlight?”

“Oh, yes. You’ve found me out. It was all a ruse to marry a too-young prince and have the Riverlands invade Dorne.” She gasped as Oberyn pinched at her inner thigh, pleasant ripples shooting up her leg and coiling in her stomach.

“Careful. Careful.”

The mischief that sparkled in his eyes made Y/N smile and she placed her hand over his and squeezed, for herself more than him she supposed, and she grasped Ellaria’s hand, too. “The gods could not take me from you both. I promise you that.”

But then Harmen Uller then swept her into a dance, not necessarily waiting for her to accept his hand before pulling her out of her seat, and drew a hearty laugh from her throat as they nearly bowled over other dancing couples. Ellaria then stole her for a dance of her own and then Trystane proved himself to be a graceful dancer, too.

It was all so…perfect.

Y/N pressed a kiss to Ellaria’s cheek as Oberyn danced with little Lady Coryanne Uller, Ellaria’s niece. She was a girl not but five and already named the heir to Hellholt after her father.

“I just need a moment to catch my breath, my love.”

“Do not be too long. I do believe Lord Allyrion is waiting his turn for a dance,” Ellaria said with a chuckle.

Y/N smiled and promised she would be back soon and then started toward one of the side doors of the grand hall, passing Doran as she did and squeezing his shoulder as she went. A servant opened the door with a soft smile and a small bow, letting her out into one of the halls. She slipped through and heaved a sigh when the door closed behind her. The music was muted and the air cooler against her heated skin.

A soft noise caught her attention in the quiet of the hall and her curiosity led her to peek around the corner to see Daemon and Daisy wrapped around each other. Again. Y/N stifled a laugh and turned away, continuing down the hall in the opposite direction. A handful of guards were stationed along the wall, each of them acknowledging her presence in one way or another as she found her way out onto a portico overlooking the still water pools. The blood orange trees swayed in the cool night breeze and brought the scent of citrus to her nose. She leaned against a carved column with a hum, resting for just a few breaths.

“My lady.”

Y/N stood straight and looked out into the night.

A short figure emerged from the shadows, dressed in a hooded cloak and walking with a limp. They reached up to pull off the hood and-

“Tyrion?” The name was pushed out of her in a rush.

The Lannister cautiously moved closer to her on the pink marble of the pools’ terrace. “My lady, I have come to warn you-”

“Warn me? Your family would be insane to think they could come to Dorne and leave unscathed.” Tyrion pursed his lips—it was then that she noticed how bruised his face had become. Molted purple and blue skin covered half his cheek and arced over his eye. “What did she do to you?”

“Cersei has never been fond of me,” that was all he said. “I am sailing for Essos. But I needed you to understand—they know.”

“Know what? Now is not the time for riddles-”

“They know that Dorne has sided against the Crown.” His bruised face flushed with a vibrant blush she could see even in the dim light. “They are coming. And Cersei and my father are determined to hurt you.”

“They won’t make it through the Bone Way. If the Targaryens and their dragons could not conquer Dorne, a tired army from the Westerlands cannot.”

“My lady, please, listen to me. They are not coming with an army—not yet. I told you—they want to hurt you.”

“Let us help you. Oberyn can-”

“My lady?” Daisy’s voice echoed in the hall and reverberated out into the night air. “My lady?”

Y/N turned. “A moment, Daisy!” But when she turned back, Tyrion was gone.

Daisy stepped out onto the portico with a frown, lips swollen from her rendezvous with Daemon. She glanced out into the dark, looking for what Y/N had been seeing. “What is it, my lady? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Y/N cast one last glance out into the dark terrace and saw nothing. Tyrion was gone. “It must have been the wine.” She needed to speak to Doran. Now. But she refused to spoil Daisy’s happy night. News of her betrothal to Daemon had been met with joy and cheers just before the feast had begun and Y/N wanted to let her friend have as much happiness as she could.

“Prince Oberyn is looking for you.”

She nodded and let Daisy lead her back to doors of the grand hall before shooing her way. “Go. I know Daemon is waiting for you in the shadows.” The happy and embarrassed blush that bloomed on her cheeks made Y/N laugh before she skittered away, back into the arms of her love.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and smoothed her skirts. It would do no good to run in screaming that the Lannisters were coming. She had the most tenuous grasp on belonging here, in Dorne.

“Are you well, princess?” One of the servants asked, hand on the door and ready to let her in. He was young, she could tell. Probably no older than Arya.

“Not a princess just yet,” she said with a smile and trying to ignore how her heart was in her throat. “But I thank you, yes. I am still acclimating to the heat, I am afraid.” It was an easy explanation.

“Shall I fetch you some water?”

Her smile grew. “No, no thank you. What is your name?”

“Gyles, princess,” he said with a tip of his head, dark hair shorn short.

She chuckled. He seemed insistent on the honorific. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Gyles.” She turned to the other servant, not wanting to be rude. “And you? What shall I call you?”

“Ilyn, my lady.” There was a sickly sweetness to his tone and his smile a bit too wide for his face.

Something about him turned her stomach within an instant but she smiled regardless, the perfect lady. “Pleased to meet you, Ilyn.” She turned to Gyles and nodded, letting him push open the door. Y/N slipped in and quickly moved to find Doran but was swept up into a familiar embrace.

“You mustn’t slip away without a word, my moonlight. You are the guest of honor.”

She turned in Oberyn’s grasp and felt a small bit of relief at the sight of his smiling face. “My prince, I must speak to you and your brother.”

His smile faded. “What has happened?”

She shook her head, letting her hands slide across the golden brocade of his robes to grab at the leather of his belt as if that would keep her mind from spinning. “I cannot tell you here. Please, my prince, please.”

Oberyn’s lips drew into a thin line and he nodded once before grabbing her hand and leading her toward Doran.

She did not sleep.

Ellaria had to pull Y/N from Doran’s solar and put her to bed like a child when she had started to sway on her feet. But all of them, every single one of them, were so sure that the Lannisters could not touch them.

But Y/N could feel a terrible, creeping sensation engulfing her entire body. She wanted them to be right. She wanted the Lannisters to be too weak or foolhardy to actually hurt the Martells. But something in her stomach told her to be wary.

So, she sat on the edge of her featherbed and looked out the open window and into the night sky. Watched the water lap in the pools while the air smelled of the lush gardens. She hadn’t readied for bed aside from kicking off her golden sandals, staying in the blue silk dress Oberyn and Ellaria had insisted she wear tonight. They liked her in blue. “We will have all the time in the world to dress you in our colors, My Tully. For now, we shall see you in blue.”

The din of the feast eventually faded as guests retired to their chambers or fell asleep in their seats in the grand hall, bellies full of good food and drink. None of them knowing of the threat of the lions. As the dark sky started to turn pink with dawn, she heard it.

Someone was whistling.

And she knew the tune.

And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that’s all the truth I know.

She slipped off her bed and over to the door, taking care to open it slowly to avoid the creak of the hinges.

In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws, and mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours.

She stepped out into the hallway and listened. There was nothing. Nothing except for the whistle.

And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere, but now the rains weep o’er his hall, with no one there to hear.

Y/N followed the sound across the fortress, hearing it grow louder with every step. Her heart roared in her ears. Her knees knocked together like a newborn foal. She was not brave.

She was scared.

Yes now the rains weep o’er his hall, and not a soul to hear.

A figure slipped around the corner and she pumped her shaking legs, willing herself to go faster, to please go faster as she followed and Y/N realized with a terrible sense of dread that the only door in that hallway led to Prince Doran’s personal chambers.

A scream rang out.

Y/N pushed open the door in time to see Ilyn standing over Doran, bloody knife in hand. Trystane was huddled behind his father, sitting in a pool of blood. Doran was clutching at a gushing wound across the top of his chest, eyes hard and defiant.

Before she could even think to do something rational, Y/N ran at Ilyn and tackled him to the ground. The marble was unforgiving to her legs but she barely felt it as she struggled with the man over the knife, climbing over him in an attempt to gain the upper-hand, to keep him subdued. Her hand closed over the blade as he shoved it toward her throat and she felt it cut through her palm, tearing skin and muscle from the bone. She hadn’t even realized she was screaming until Ilyn slammed his other fist into her throat and rendered her silent for just a moment. The blow shoved her backward and off him just enough for the would-be assassin to scramble up to his feet and dart back out into the hall.

Y/N scrambled over to the Dornish princes, trying to see if they needed help but Doran waved her on, pressing a fist against his wound. “Go!” He said through gritted teeth. “Get him.”

And Y/N did as she was told. By now, the halls were filling with people—some wondering why people were screaming and others seeming to know exactly what happened.

“Stop him!” She screamed, pointing her bloody hand at the fleeing Ilyn as she continued to give chase. “Stop him!”

Ilyn heard her scream and sneered at her over his shoulder just as he made it to the entry hall.

She wouldn’t catch him. She knew it. He was too fast but she could run until her legs gave out. “Stop him! Stop him!” She continued to scream, praying someone would.

Just as Ilyn stepped into the growing sunlight, he stumbled. A choking, gurgling sound escaped him and Y/N ran to see what had stopped him. It was Oberyn—the head of his spear buried deep in Ilyn’s stomach.

Oberyn’s mouth was moving, she could see it. He was coaxing something from Ilyn even as blood dripped from his mouth and spattered against the marble floor. But all she could hear was the thump-thump-thump of her heart and the blood pumping through her veins.

Y/N jumped as Daisy grasped at her uninjured hand. The poor girl held up her hands with a shaking smile, like she was trying to help a feral cat. “My lady, I need to tend to your hand.” The words were muffled.

Y/N let Daisy lead her back into the great hall where the remnants of the feast had not yet been cleared away and slumped into the chair deemed hers the night before. She barely winced when Daisy started to clean her angry wound. She barely noticed when the maesters came in to help.

What she did notice, however, was a box placed atop her forgotten dinner plate. Her name was written on a bit of parchment in a familiar scrawl.

Her fingers shook as she reached out for it.

“Don’t, my lady,” Daisy hissed. “You don’t know what’s inside!”

But Y/N unlatched it and pushed open the lid. Her scream choked the air from her lungs.

Sitting inside the box, on a golden cushion, was the head of her father.

A/N: Welp. Please let me know what you think. :)

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @roxypeanut @lostinwonderland314 @fandomreblogsnoshame @arianawills @nyrnerosmartell @5hundreddaysofsummer @honestlystop @huliabitch @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @karmezii @thesadvampire @sarcasmisakindofmagic

#Oberyn Martell x Reader #Oberyn Martell Imagine #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x Reader #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #Game of Thrones Imagine #asoiaf #game of thrones

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 3 years

Text

Only Mine (Pt. 6)

A/N: We’re using Taylor songs again because we love Queen Taylor. So these are not my works (obviously) but hers. However if you’ve never heard some of these I would highly suggest you check them out because all Taylor songs are absolute bops. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Pop Star!Reader Word count: 3,541 Warnings: Swearing, implied sex (no smut though), arguing (minor)

You found the release of Fractious to be the most ironic days of your life.

You were in the media everywhere, selling only a few thousands copies less in it’s first week than your previous record. Which you were fine with, that was somewhat of the plan.

But you were no where to be seen. Hiding out in a new house you and Gerard had bought New Jersey for just under three million dollars. But no one knew about that purchase, other than your closest family and friends. Because no one needed to know.

The suspense of it all started extremely high, as you only announced the album 12 hours prior to its drop. And the world went insane, fans jumping to Twitter to go absolutely crazy over this new persona that they had already began to love, and some had already caught onto the ‘good girl gone bad’ idea.

You released the entire tracklist only three hours before the drop, and you were already stalking fan pages who began making theories about what it meant. There were already a lot of ‘THIS ONE’S ABOUTE GERARD’ and theories already popping up about him, which made you lightly smile knowing damn well a lot of it was.

The tracklist read: Blank Space I Knew You Were Trouble Style End Game I Did Something Bad I Know Places Out Of The Woods Dancing With Our Hands Tied Don’t Blame Me Getaway Car Clean

You smiled and lightly laughed once you refreshed your phone on the couch, your face and name at the top of iTunes and various other music providers promoting your new album.

“Congrats babe.” Gerard said from where he sat next to you, giving you a kiss and squeezing your thigh, “I’m proud of you.” “Thanks Gee.” You leaned your head onto his shoulder, “I love you. So much.” “I love you more.” He smiled down.

What made it all the better was how MCR was entering into their punk era, only making your album and new persona more believable. You had to admit, Gerard’s red and shaggy hair was really hot, and you were living for it, as you had told him a million times.

And you knew how much he loved your new era. As much as he genuinely loved the real, bubbly you (which is of course why he married you) he continuously admired your new all black look, managing to wear skin tight jeans and short shorts with more crop tops than usual and leather jackets galore. And you can’t forget how many pairs of Doc Martins you had, plus Louboutin boots all for the red bottoms. You basically looked like a filthy rich home wrecker, AKA the look you were going for.

But at home and in private you were the same old Y/N, always letting your natural hair fall into its regular ways, with little to no makeup and not ashamed to wear whatever you wanted.

What seemed to put the cherry on top to this new era was the newest addition to your family, AKA a black french bulldog named Rocko the two of you got. He was a tornado of chaos who would run around the house with his dozens of toys, taunting you and Gerard with them as if to show some form of superiority that he clearly lacked. You treated him like he was a newborn baby, constantly. You bought him clothes, beds, and toys, letting him sleep with you and Gerard despite your husbands protests about how he “took up too much room”. To you, the little canine could do nothing wrong.

That was until he chewed up your favorite pair of shoes, which just oh so happened to cost multiple hundreds of dollars. Gerard was furious at his actions, complaining that there was no reason for him to do so with the countless amount of toys he already had. You were mad at first too, but after only a few seconds of the pup giving you his eyes of sympathy you forgave him and moved on as if nothing happened. Gerard was still in his state of anger though.

“Oh, look, the designs for the tour outfits came in.” You smiled from where you laid on the couch, checking emails on your laptop, Rocko at your feet sitting between you and Gerard who was reading a book. You opened up the file to be greeted with all dozen outfits, which were beyond perfect. Gerard looked over, interested in the topic. “I like that one.” You pointed to one especially scandalous duo of tiny shorts and an even smaller top that could have been easily mistaken for a bra if it wasn’t for the thicker material on the all black set with black tights. “It makes me look like a whore.” Gerard nearly spat out his coffee.

“But you’re not a whore.” “Yeah, well, my alter ego is.” You smiled. “And you made her that way.” You looked up at him from quickly, “Take that as a compliment.” “How is me turning my wife into a whore a compliment?” He asked, puzzled.

“Just take it as one.” You huffed.

“I do think you’ll look bad ass in it though,” He remarked, returning to his book.

“Awww, thanks babe.” You blushed, “Maybe I’ll ask them to make you a matching outfit.” You lightly laughed. “Haha, very funny.” He rolled his eyes.

“It sucks we’ll be touring at the same time.” You sighed, “I miss being able to see you and the guys more.” “Yeah I miss you too,” He sighed as well, “And Ray does too.” You lightly laughed.

“Ray’s coming to the first show, right?” You asked, looking up at Gerard. He nodded.

“He cleared all of his schedule to go and he’s pumped.” You smiled.

“Good.” You closed your laptop, climbing over to give Gerard a kiss, which he happily accepted and did the same back. “Somedays I wish you kissed me the way as you do Frank.” You lightly smiled, letting go as he chuckled.

“I mean, I could.” He smiled at you, running his hands through your hair, “But that’s more aggressive and in the moment. I prefer to savor the kisses I have with you, let you know how much I love you.” You smiled, lightly rolling your eyes.

“You’re so sappy sometimes, Gee.” You responded, “But I love it.”

That night, as you were going to bed, you stopped in your mirror momentarily to take a look at yourself. You had gained 25-ish pounds since your break from the spotlight, still recovering from your ED. Your doctor said that you were healthy now, but some of the fatrolls that fell on your sides and hip dips as well were starting to bother you. And your stomach still had that bit of blub that you were never very fond of.

Gerard walked past you in the bathroom, immediately getting the memo. “Am I too fat?” You turned around and asked him, his face turning to a form of ridicule.

“You’re a fucking goddess.” He said looking you up and down, “So no.”

“Are you sure Gee-” Before you could finish, he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you to bed where he pushed you down with ease beneath him, giving you a searing kiss.

“You’re fucking gorgeous and the most beautiful woman alive. If you say one more thing about you not being perfect I’m going to frame every photo of you in every inch of this damn house so you know just how incredible you are.” “Fine.” You sighed reluctantly. “Now say it with me,” He began, “I, Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N-Way am perfect.” You sighed, choosing to go with it.

“I, Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N-Way am perfect.” “Good girl.” He said with another quick kiss. You lightly laughed, rolling over to your side of the bed to give Gerard his. You took your hand, running your fingers through his messy hair as the two of you stared at each other.

“After these two tours, I think I want to take a break.” You admitted, saying so above a whisper. He lightly nodded. “Maybe we can start a family.” He nodded again. “And settle down.” He gave you a kiss on the nose.

“That sounds perfect.”

-Time skip because I’m lAzY-

You were on stage doing what you do best, simultaneously swaying your hips to the music and going along with some of the choreography, as if the skin tight black and sparkly body suit and above the knee black boots weren’t enough.

As usual, you would look over to your husband where he was in the VIP section and sing to him, a smile plastered on his face. You would occasionally look over to see both the approval of your family, and friends, including Ray who seemed to be having the time of his life dancing and singing the lyrics.

The show was going absolutely perfect, it was bigger than any other that you had ever done, a larger stage, larger screens, larger everything. Even a larger crowd with over 100,000 people for your first show on tour. You could hear the audience echo your lyrics, jumping up and down judging by the movements of their light up wrist bands.

You of course played a few songs off of your previous album, doing a few acoustic with just you and the crowd which were some of your favorite experiences and moments. You also did a quick speech thanking all of your loyal fans who waited for you to come back with new music, despite the long period of time where you were no where to be seen.

After the finale, you ran back with a huge smile still on your face with your team, drinking some water constantly to hydrate yourself. It only took you a few moments in the back hallways of the stadium before you saw your husband at one end, smiling at you. You smiled back, running up to him and clinging your arms around him. He hugged you back, giving you a quick kiss. “You did great.” He whispered with a huge smiled, “I’m so proud.” “Thanks.” You smiled back, giving him another kiss. The two of you walked away, arms around each other as you leaned onto him. You tried to keep PDA to a limit, especially since the documentary was actively being made and was recording everything.

Once you were back in your private dressing room where no one else was, he gave you an even bigger hug, swinging you around and you lightly squealed. “You’re just so good.” He laughed.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, letting go to go and take off your makeup at the chair. “I just gotta meet a few fans then we can go back to the hotel.” You told him through the mirror and he nodded.

“Y/N?” You heard your assistant knock at the door. “Hey, Betty.” You smiled up at her and she smiled back.

“I assumed you would want Rocky with you.” She said, putting the small black dog and he ran up to your chair.

“Ah yes,” You smiled down at him, picking him up and giving him a bunch of kisses on his little face, “Thank you.” You told her and she nodded, “No problem.” She closed the door back. You held the small dog in your lap, finishing off your face and hair before getting up and putting him down to change into regular clothes from your stage outfit.

“Gee?” You asked and he hummed, looking up from his phone, “Could you unzip me?” You asked and he nodded, getting up to do so. Usually Gerard would pull something after that, making it less PG, but you shot him a quick glare warning him not to do anything, so he didn’t.

You quickly replaced your stage clothes with a pair of jeans and sweatshirt, turning around to see Gerard still staring at you, wide eyes. “Oh please,” you sighed at him, “We’ve been together for over eight years Gee, handle yourself.” “Sorry, it’s just really hard to.” He tried to defend himself, you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll be back soon, babe.” You smiled, giving him a peck on the lips before excusing yourself.

The meet and greet went by as always, taking about half an hour before you said bye to everyone, taking photos, and then went back to Gerard. He was still on his phone on one of the couches in the room, Rocko by his feet. “Ready to go?” He asked, looking up, and you nodded grabbing your phone and backpack.

On the way out you couldn’t stop smiling, hand in hand with Gerard going in one of the large black SUVs, you going in first, then Rocko, then Gerard. “How’re you feeling?” Your husband asked and you just smiled.

“Great,” You admitted, taking a sip from your water, “Everyone loved it.” He gave your thigh a squeeze and looked at you.

“It was definitely pretty bad ass.” He smiled and you lightly laughed.

You had walked into your suite, setting your bag and the dog down, placing him in his bed (in the living room part of the room) while Gerard grabbed him a bowl of water. You gave the dog a quick good night kiss, resorting to your own room where Gerard followed, closing the door behind you.

Almost immediately your lips were clashed together, his hands on your waist as he swiftly put you on the large plush duvet of the bed, moving down to your collarbone and neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked for only a brief moment, as a double check. You shook your head violently.

“No,” You sighed out, “Please no.” He smiled down at you connecting your lips against. “Whatever you want, sugar.”

-Another time skip-

You wouldn’t have ever known if it wasn’t for the insane amount of fatigue and throwing up you were going through, only a month into tour. Initially you could’ve sworn it was just a cold turned to maybe the flu, as many of the symptoms you were having would go away within a few hours, so you were ready for show time.

But here you sat in your hotel room, curled up on the bed with Rocko next to you, your mind completely empty as you stared into the thin air, Betty had run to the nearest pharmacy. What were you going to do on tour? Fans would figure it out easily. But what would you tell Gerard?

Once Betty came back she gave you a somber, almost apologetic smile handing your the small bag. You thanked her, closing the door and going into the bathroom.

You stood over the bathroom sink, your hands gripping the granite edges for dear life as you stared down at the three tests. All positive. It took you a few minutes of staring, rocking back and forth, for everything to sink in.

This was not how you planned it, it was never supposed to go like this. You and Gerard were going to take a break, settle down, have your first child and be together all through your pregnancy. Now you were both on huge tours promoting your new work, away from home for at least the next five months.

You could feel warm tears stream down your cheeks, a small sniffle coming from your nose as you grabbed your phone. Reluctantly, you pressed on your husband’s name, pressing the small phone icon displayed underneath it. You put your face up to the screen slowly. Only a few rings and he answered.

“Hey Y/N/N,” He said, “What’s up.” It took you a few seconds, but you immediately bursted into sobs. “Baby? What’s wrong?” He spoke up, voice with lots of concern.

“Gee,” You began, sniffing again through the sobs, “I’m um- I’m pregnant.” You said. No one spoke for the next few seconds, complete silence on both ends of the line.

“Sweetie,” He said in a light voice, a small laugh following afterwards, “That’s great!” “No, Gerard, it isn’t.” You snapped, “We had all of this planned out perfectly, no one was going to know unless we wanted them to. But no, in the beginning of a fucking world tour this has to happen.” You raised your voice, “And I get it, this is gonna be a fucking walk in the park for you because you’re not here, and you don’t have to play in front of over 50,000 people every night in body tight suits. And you’re going to be separated from your pregnant wife. Life’s probably fucking perfect for you.” You weren’t sure what had gotten into you, but whatever it was it wasn’t pretty.

“What?” He asked, “You say it like we never wanted this. Sometimes things don’t go to plan Y/N.” He snapped back.

“Well they have to in our world Gerard!” You yelled, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, “We have our lives set out for the next six months. And this is a big deal, and something we can’t do right now.”

“So are you going to get an abortion? Are you going to put it into the adoption system?” He yelled back. You took a few moments to think.

“No.” You admitted, barely above a whisper, “Gee, I’m sorry.” You began sobbing again, your sad feeling taking over any angry one.

“No, sugar, I am.” He clarified with a sigh, “You’re going through a lot and I should be supporting you, not arguing.” “Well I kinda started it.” “And I shouldn’t have continued it.” He responded. “Honey, we’ll figure this out.” He insisted, “We’ll talk to your tour manager and everyone who needs to know, we’ll figure something out. Some way to hide it.” “Okay.” You said somberly.

“Give me a few minutes,” He said, “I’m going to figure out a way to get to you.” “Gee, you’re booked for the next fews months on tour.” “And so are you, but you’re also carrying our child right now.” He spoke back, “We’re going to figure it out, okay? We’re going to have a kid, and start a family, maybe a little off track from what we intended, but this is what we’ve wanted, right?” You nodded despite him not seeing you.

“Yeah, of course.” You calmed down. “This is what we’ve wanted.”

It took a full week for a plan to be made. A week of unnecessary stress and anxiety for everyone on your team who was high enough on the roster to know about the pregnancy. Not even your families or friends knew, everything right now was business.

Gerard managed to fly in during a three day break the band had, consoling your emotions during the time as you two began to discuss personal plans. There was a lot of crying, both tears of sadness and joy, as you two began to discuss where you would live most of the time, which room the baby would take, how to even handle a child.

You already knew the baby’s name, which could go for either a boy or girl: Shiloh Monet Way. You were still very unsure about planning to have a baby, but since your tour would end when the third trimester began, you would have at least a few months to plan and figure out everything.

Gerard had already talked to the guys and their managers about pushing back some of the dates so there was a month break for him to be home around the baby’s due date. At the very least he wanted to be with you while giving birth, but he also wanted to help both you and the baby recover.

New outfits and plans to completely hide your pregnancy were already in the working with your teams. It was like a completely undercover operation to keep both you and your child’s privacy to a fine tune. And of course. Gerard and the guys promised to not say anything at all, even a hint towards you being pregnant wouldn’t be dropped.

“I say we wait to tell our families and friends,” You admitted to your husband, the two of you on the hotel bed getting ready to go to a sound check. “Just in case anything happens. I mean, we have to tell our teams and the guys and stuff, which we did, but no one else.” He nodded.

“Just not for too long,” He said, “Or at least once we know that baby’s developing fine.” You nodded and sighed.

“I was hoping having our first child together wouldn’t be this stressful.” You admitted, almost shamefully in a way.

“It’s okay, sugar.” He put his hand on your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. “We’re going to make the best of it, okay? You have a little less than five months left on your tour and then I get to take a break. This’ll work out just fine.” You nodded, placing your head on his shoulder as you knew he was right.

“You make everything better, Gee.” You said, playing with his hand as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’ll do it for you, sweetheart.”

#gerard way #my chemical romance #gerard way x reader #mcr gerard #my chem #my chemical gee #my chemical gerard #my chemical romance x reader #gerard way fanfiction #mcr

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stiltonbasket · 4 years

Link

In which Wei Wuxian needs a break, Jiang Cheng is smitten, and Xiao Xingchen finally makes his way to a safe haven.

Unfortunately for Wei Wuxian, twenty-five-year-old father of two and co-owner of Lotus Pier Bakery, his days always start at four o’clock in the morning.

Right after his alarm rings, he showers (sometimes) brushes his teeth (if he remembers to) and combs his hair (if he can’t get away with wrangling it into a messy braid, which works for three days out of every five) before stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen, where he spends the next two hours mixing pastry dough and preparing enormous rows of stuffed baozi. After the buns and pastries are done—and pastry is always finicky, even for him—he takes out his pans of bread dough and bakes until his hands are numb from kneading and mixing, right before whipping up a sponge batter and making four different flavors of cake with it: plain, chocolate, a green tea sponge that is ridiculously popular despite only smelling like tea (though it’s still a good cake, as proven by his sister’s fondness for it) and strawberry. He also puts on a pot of lotus and pork rib soup, since the bakery serves meals during lunch and provides a free cup of soup with every order.

At seven-thirty, he hears the sleepy sounds of his brother moving about on the second floor, going about his own preparations for the day. Jiang Cheng’s morning responsibilities include getting himself ready, making sure Wei Wuxian’s six-year-old-son (an actual ray of sunshine, brought to life in the shape of a boy called Wen Yuan) is dressed and packed for school, and giving baby Xiao-Yu his first bottle before the breakfast rush begins.

Wei Wuxian’s children are utter delights, though, so he counts that part as one of the many privileges that come with being an uncle to the two most precious baby boys in the world.

“There’s also A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng says grumpily, when he comes down with shaving foam still stuck to his ears and A-Yu wriggling in his arms. “And I don’t have to change his diapers, Wei Wuxian.”

“It’s only once a day,” Wei Wuxian coaxes. He grabs the baby from Jiang Cheng and gives him a smacking kiss on the nose, his heart melting all over again as Xiao-Yu tries to imitate him and ends up licking his face instead. “How’s the most perfect baby in the universe doing today, baobei?”

Xiao-Yu only babbles at him, since he only just passed his tenth-month birthday and can’t really manage speech outside of the occasional “baba,” (directed at Wei Wuxian, of course) or the odd “mama,” which is also directed at Wei Wuxian because he is, as he tells everyone who asks him out and then runs the second he explains, very much a single father. Parenthood’s very bad for the dating scene, but he’ll gladly remain single for the rest of his life to make sure he can give his best to A-Yuan and Xiao-Yu.

Not that any of them but Yanli ever thought about anything like romance or marriage, after the Jiang estate burned to the ground with their parents in it and left them dependent on a family friend’s charity for the next year and a half.

A-Yuan comes bounding into the kitchen five minutes later, dressed in a tidy little button-up and neat grey shorts with a backpack strapped to his shoulders. “A-Die!” he cries, flinging his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and nuzzling against his stomach until his father bursts out laughing at how much it tickles. “A-Die, I’m ready. What do I get for lunch today?”

“First things first,” Wei Wuxian tells him, as A-Yu observes them through the mesh walls of his playpen with one chubby finger in his mouth. “Did you and your shushu finish all your breakfast!”

“Mm, we did! Shushu made eggs!”

“Then you can go pick out one of the buns in the cooling rack for you, and one for A-Ling. And two for your peacock uncle, since he always eats too much.”

Once A-Yuan makes his choices—a soft baozi with mushrooms in it for him, and and a green onion pastry with tomatoes for Jin Ling—Wei Wuxian fills up two tiny thermoses with hot soup and then fills up A-Yuan’s Spiderman water bottle, which is completely covered in the rabbit stickers he hoards every time someone takes him to the doctor’s office.

“Lunches packed,” Jiang Cheng drones, starting up the various drinks machines behind the bakery counter as A-Yuan grabs his cousin’s lunchbox and tries to pack it himself. “I am now going to make coffee. And tea. And milk tea, since my elder brother is a cruel, cruel man.”

“The McDonalds down the street would have put us out of business if we hadn’t started serving bubble tea,” Wei Wuxian scolds. “And Wen Qing likes the way you cook the tapioca, so don’t even complain.”

He leaves Jiang Cheng blushing in front of the gargantuan coffee-maker and hustles A-Yuan out through the little door that separates the staff-only area from the dining room just before a large, expensive car pulls up just outside the sign in the window that reads Lotus Pier Bakery.

“It’s Peacock-uncle,” A-Yuan pipes up, still amazed by the sight of Jin Zixuan’s luxury sports car, as if he doesn’t ride to and from school in it every day. “And A-Ling, and Auntie!”

Yanli breezes in half a second later, pouncing on A-Yuan the moment she crosses the threshold and covering his face with kisses. “Good morning, Yuan-bao,” she sings, as A-Yuan turns into putty in her arms and tucks his face against her shoulder. “Are you ready for school?”

“I’m always ready,” he informs her, before proudly displaying the two lunchboxes hanging from his elbow and the brown-paper bag held carefully in one hand. “See, I packed A-Ling’s lunch, all by myself! And Peacock-uncle’s!”

“Peacock-uncle’s going to be hungry again by lunchtime,” Jiang Cheng calls, sticking his head up over the espresso maker. “And he’ll be here at noon with the rest of the Jin crowd, just wait.”

“A-Yuan won’t be here at lunchtime,” Wen Yuan says peacefully. “A-Yuan will be at school.”

After that, Wei Wuxian gets A-Yuan settled in his booster seat, squeezes A-Ling, and waves at his brother-in-law with Jiang Yanli until the car vanishes down the street, leaving Yanli to put up her hair and march back into the kitchen to start cooking for rush hour.

“A-Cheng, you’ve got the drinks and the registers covered, right?” she asks, before grinning from ear to ear as a young woman with a badge clipped to her shirt comes in and stares at Jiang Cheng across the counter until his face looks more like a roasted beet than anything remotely human. “Good morning, Wen Qing!”

“I’ll take my usual coffee order and a spinach roll,” Wen Qing says, sending a short, small smile at Yanli—which is more than anyone else except Jiang Cheng ever gets, because Wen Qing is a medical resident with no sympathy for anyone but her patients, A-Yuan, and inexplicably Wei Wuxian’s bad-tempered brother, who loses most of his senses whenever she walks into Lotus Pier and only gets them back about an hour after she leaves.

“You’ve just missed A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian complains, stocking the display case next to the cash register. “He kept asking when we could see you yesterday, you know.”

“I’ll try to get up earlier tomorrow,” she yawns, carefully not paying attention when Jiang Cheng overturns a box of sugar packets in an effort to wrap up her spinach roll as neatly as he can. “Or you could video call me at night, when those of us who aren’t bakers are most active. Like normal people do.”

“I go to bed at eight o’clock like an old man, thank you very much,” he sniffs. “My schedule’s murder on my old lifestyle—”

“You mean spending all night gatecrashing sorority parties like you used to back in college?”

“—and I have children to look after,” he finishes sagely. “Do you want soup, too, Wen Qing? I can throw in a free bowl.”

“We won’t make any money that way,” Jiang Cheng scolds him, providing a wonderful show of hypocrisy as he hands Wen Qing a cup of coffee with three protective sleeves on it to make sure she doesn’t burn her hands, a heat-safe straw jammed down the side, and a warm paper bag containing at least one more fresh pastry than Wei Wuxian remembers her ordering. “Here. Good luck today, Miss Wen.”

Wen Qing tosses a mouthful of coffee down her throat and then turns to stare at Jiang Cheng.

“If it weren’t for you and your perfect coffee,” she says, “I would have dropped out years ago.”

And then she strides out the door and climbs back into her car, leaving Jiang Cheng dumbstruck in her wake as Wei Wuxian doubles over and screams with laughter until he cries.

“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng mutters, when Xiao-Yu’s adorable baby giggles ring out alongside his father’s. “Look, now Xiao-Yu’s doing it.”

“He knows denial when he sees it,” Wei Wuxian tells him. “Honestly, A-Cheng. A-Yu’s just trying to help!”

The rest of the day goes on much as days at Lotus Pier Bakery usually do; happily, but so very busily that Wei Wuxian ends up staggering back upstairs for a second shower with Xiao-Yu when the lunch rush ends. The eatery serves coffee and baked goods from opening to closing, and is open for dine-in restaurant meals from eleven to two-thirty; Yanli does most of the cooking, while Wei Wuxian does the prep work, and Jiang Cheng handles the take-out baked goods sales and the drinks and helps wait tables until time comes to wipe down the tables in the dining area after the lunch customers finally finish eating—and the result of it all is that all three of them are so drained that they can hardly keep their eyes open, especially after dealing with parties bigger than about four or five.

“How is it only three-thirty,” Wei Wuxian moans, slumping wearily over the counter with Xiao-Yu tied to his back when Jin Zixuan comes by to drop A-Yuan off and pick Yanli up later that afternoon. “I want to sleep, A-Jie.”

“Have you looked into getting any more part-timers?” his sister asks, pressing a cool, soft hand to his cheek. “I know Xue Yang’s doing well, but he only comes three times a week.”

“A-Yang’s a gremlin,” Wei Wuxian dismisses. “And he barely talks, it scares the customers. I was thinking of having someone move into your old bedroom, but of course it isn’t so easy with Yuan-bao and A-Yu here.”

“What about Wen Ning?” Jin Zixuan suggests, absentmindedly turning A-Yuan upside down and swinging him back and forth while Jin Ling begs for a turn on his other side. “A-Yuan’s his cousin, and he dotes on A-Yu, so it could work out, couldn’t it?”

“Not until he finishes his degree. And he’s got a job lined up after that, so there wouldn’t be any point,” Jiang Cheng shrugs. Wei Wuxian and his siblings all went to college, graduating with degrees in dance performance, mechanical engineering, and economics, in order of age—but then the fire came along and ruined everything about a year before he and Jiang Cheng were set to graduate, and all the three of them wanted to do after that was spend as much time together as they possibly could, so they ended up opening the bakery instead. “And we don’t know anyone else well enough.”

“Well, something will turn up,” Yanli soothes him, tiptoeing up to kiss his forehead and then Wei Wuxian’s before lifting A-Ling into her arms. “Promise me you’ll get some rest, A-Cheng. And A-Xian, you have to promise, too.”

“We promise,” they say dutifully, before watching her leave with her husband and son.

Letting her go doesn’t seem half so bad these days, since they know how loved she is at home, and that she’s always going to come back to them in the morning.

“She’s right, you know,” Jiang Cheng sighs, after a long pause. “We really do need to get some new staff, or we’ll run ourselves into the ground.”

“I’ll start making ads tomorrow night,” Wei Wuxian promises, sending A-Yuan upstairs for his afternoon nap and dearly wishing he could go have a nap, too. “Let’s get through the rest of the day, and then I’ll put in a call to the printers’ so we can put up flyers.”

___

As it turns out, however, the answer to their quandary comes about two hours later, after Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng put the “closed” signs in all the windows and shutter the blinds behind them. Jiang Cheng is just about to unroll the blinds on the reinforced glass doors when he takes in a sharp breath and shouts for Wei Wuxian, who comes rolling out of the dining room in five seconds flat before trotting over to stand beside him.

“Is it just me,” he says, “or is there someone staring at me outside?”

Wei Wuxian looks. There definitely is someone outside, dressed in shabby, misshapen clothes and holding a dark little bundle to his chest, and that someone looks more than a bit familiar.

Almost, he realizes, like a certain long-absent member of his family, from whom he has not heard anything in the past two years save for three very hurried phone calls.

“No way,” he breathes, unlocking the door and running out into the street just in time for the someone to fall straight into his arms and burst into tears. “Xingchen!”

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #nielan #chengqing #wen qing #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #jin zixuan #my fic #modern au #wuxian versus world: bakery style

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newtafterdark · 3 years

Text

Taste of Metal - Chapter 12: Turning up the Volume - [AO3 LINK]

The song Gordon is singing in this chapter is "I Hate to Dance" by Mustasch! Click here to listen to it!

PS: The alternative title for this chapter: "Gordon Goes Apeshit In A Healthy Way!! YEAH!! >:D"

- - - It was always something else to hear how your voice sounded like to everyone but yourself.

Gordon had been used to it for a long time, mostly thanks to the years he recorded music with his band, but seeing his new friends react to his recorded songs made him pause a bit in thought.

When he and Newton had founded “Black Velvet Rabbits” together, both of their voices were still in the middle of their second puberty. Uneven, scratchy at times… and by far not as resilient as they wanted them to be.

That didn’t mean it stopped either of them from putting their heart and soul into every song they played. It made their first few tapes rough to listen to, but Gordon felt a huge amount of fondness for them regardless.

All their frustration with their lives, the school system, society, their bodies, their struggles with ADHD and BPD respectively- it all went into their music.

It was the sound of desperately struggling youths doing anything they could in their limited power to be heard.

Gordon was well aware that some of their former bandmates thought back to BVR and rolled their eyes at their gigs and “rockstar dreams”. He himself though? He was proud. Both of himself and Newton. Proud of having this tangible proof that they got through one of the hardest times of their lives together, doing something that they had put together with no outside help, with no overbearing parental figures forcing them to succeed. They created music because it was the one thing they had complete control over… and it had been absolutely intoxicating and freeing at the same time.

Even now, as their old recordings played in the background, Gordon found himself gently swaying side to side to the tempo of the tune, humming softly along as he was sorting through the remaining contents of the boxes on the floor.

He looked up from his spot, smiling fondly at Bubby letting out a cry of joy when he recognized another classic rock song that BVR had recorded a cover of.

“Your band might sound like absolute ass but at least they had taste!”, he exclaimed, drumming happily along to the beat on the floor beside Gordon.

“Yeah… our sound quality wasn’t the greatest until… 2014, I think? ”, Gordon pondered out loud. “You’ll notice the change instantly though! Around that time we also actually figured out in which direction we wanted to take our style as well. Took us a while, I know, but… good things take time!”

Speaking of good things taking time- the construction of the pocket dimension within the storage closet seemed to be going nice and steady by the looks of it.

Every time the doors opened and Tommy stepped out to take a small break, Gordon couldn’t help trying to catch a glimpse inside, which kept earning him a loud “NO PEAKING!” from Tommy- only for him to hear it echoed by Dr Coomer, Benrey and Joshua seconds later.

When eventually each member of the Science Team joined Tommy to help out with the closet, Gordon let himself be focused on his sorting task, Sunkist laying beside him as his only company for the time being.

“Guess it’s only the two of us for a bit, huh?”, he said, giving the huge dog a few loving pats on her side. Sunkist let out an affirmative woof and rested her head on Gordon’s thigh, earning a smile from Gordon.

He resumed swaying along to a new tune starting to play on the stereo, now allowing himself to add a few more subtle movements as well.

He found himself nodding along to the rhythm, his long wavy hair swaying in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.

As the side of his right foot began to gently tap against the floor as well, Sunkist got up and pushed her head against Gordon’s shoulder.

Gordon stared at her for a moment, unsure of what she expected him to do, but as the golden retriever started to gently dig into the carpet surprisingly in tune with the beat, something clicked in Gordon’s head.

He scrambled to get up on his feet, laughed as Sunkist let out a happy bark and started running excited circles around him when he started tapping his foot again.

It had been a while… but no one was in the room right now to judge him. And Sunkist, being the perfect and most supportive dog, would never make him feel guilty about any of this.

He looked down to his tapping feet, his hand closed into a fist as he assembles the old courage and opened his mouth-

“♫ I ain't a boring barfly…so please don't get me wrong, oh- Come on! Yeah, come on! I've been saying this for. Far. Too. LooooOOOONG!! ♪”

Gordon felt himself smile as he raised his voice, mirroring the energy of the younger version of it coming from the speakers.

As he moved his hips and head in rhythm to the beat of the tune, he leaned down towards Sunkist and decided at the moment that, hey, she might be the best audience he had in years - might as well sing for the best girl!

She positively bounced excitedly around Gordon’s feet as the man himself started to jump along with her and the music-

“♪ I haaaate to disappoint you! I'm not the guy you need- so, feel freeee! You can leeeeave! ‘Cause I'll nEVER SWING LIKE A MONKEY FROM. THE. TREEEEES! ♫”

Sunkist let out a loud approving bark at the sound of Gordon letting himself be loud, but this time fully because of joy, nothing like the pained and frustrated yelling he had done all throughout the simulation.

This was how Gordon was supposed to sound like. Loud, happy and confident-

“♪ It’s of great importance! This is what yOU. ALL. SHOULD. DOOOOO- ♫”

The possibility of complaining neighbours be damned, Gordon rushed over to this stereo and turned the volume significantly up, still mindful of Sunkist being in the room with him. No matter how perfect Tommy made her, Gordon really didn’t want to accidentally hurt her hearing.

He returned to moving around the living room, his steps becoming confident stomping as he basically had Sunkist follow his path between the furniture at this point. He ran his hand through his hair, letting the majority of it fall over the right side of his head, showing off the remainder of his undercut on the left in the process-

“♫ BANG YOUR HEAD CLEAN OFF, JUST DO IT!! STOMP YOUR FEET AND CLAP YOUR H-HANDS-!! ♪”

He roughly brushed away a barely formed tear from his right eye, opting to stomp his feet in place of clapping his hands to the beat. He wouldn’t let his pain and trauma cut this moment short. Singing had been his outlet for all his frustrations before, why shouldn’t he try and find out if it would still hold up with the new struggles he was facing?

“♫ I AM A HEAVY METAL GROOVER! - BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! ♪”

Sunkist affectionately pressed herself against Gordon’s side, sensing the man’s wild mix of emotions running through his head. Gordon opted to give Sunkist’s back a pat to assure her that he was doing okay. That he needed to do this. To let this all out.

He took a deep breath-

“♪ So take me away from the dance floor- Nemo saltat sobrius - Well, that's right... fucking right. I've been telling you for far too looooooOOOONG! ♫”

He closed his eyes, his focus now only on putting as much emphasis on the words as he could. As he used to. As Gordon Martini Freeman of the “Black Velvet Rabbits” had been known for.

“♫ I haaaate to disappoint you! But I'm not the guy you need- You can leeeeave, ‘cause to meee- DISCO. DIED. IN. 1983!! ♪”

He spread his arms, his head slightly falling back and his hair following suit… and he could almost feel the comforting heat of spotlights on his skin once more-

“♪ It’s of great importance! This is what yOU. ALL. SHOULD. DOOOOO!- ♫”

He bent back forward, letting himself go off into a poorly executed guitar solo as he headbanged to the beat, his hair flying back and forth, side to side-

“♫ BANG YOUR HEAD CLEAN OFF, JUST DO IT!! STOMP YOUR FEET AND CLAP YOUR HANDS-!! I AM A HEAVY METAL GROOVER! - BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! - BANG THE HEAD THAT DOESN’T BANG!!~ ♪”

Gordon stood there for a moment, out of breath, hair wild and messy, chest heaving and eyes blown wide. He was only pulled back into reality from his post-rockout brain by Sunkist jumping up on him and licking his face-

“Hahaha!! Yeah, this was fun, wasn’t it, big girl?! Thanks for the encouragement, Sunkist. I mean it. I… really needed that.”

He hugged her close before gently letting her get back on all fours, smiling as she let out a soft bark and pressed herself against his side once more, her tail wagging happily-

“Well, I’ll be damned. Sounds like you don’t sound like ass anymore after all!”

Gordon spun around, instantly locking eyes with Bubby, who was leaning against the frame of the closet, arms crossed and a smug smile on his face.

“H-How much of that did you-”

“I heard enough to know that my eardrums can stand the sound of it.”, Bubby answered, “You don’t sound half bad. Obviously out of practice, but… not awful.”

Gordon scratched the back of his neck, trying to process the rare compliment coming from the older scientist.

“Uh… thanks? A-ANYWAY- how’s the pocket dimension going?”, he quickly added to move the topic elsewhere.

Bubby rolled his eyes at Gordon's obvious deflection.

“It could go way faster in my opinion! But the hallway and the basic rooms are stable now. I won’t invite you in without the others agreeing on it too, but… it’s nice. Having your own space to do with as you please, as barren as it might be at the moment-”

In the time Bubby had spoken, Gordon had walked over to him, now resting his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.

“Hey, I might not have the biggest savings, but that won’t stop me from helping you guys find stuff for your space, okay? I know a few places we could visit sometime this week! But… first I do want to go shopping with you all to let you pick stuff for your wardrobes!”

Bubby stared up to him, a slightly startled look on his face.

“You’ll… let us… pick?”

Gordon smiled softly, hoping it looked reassuring.

“Of course! As long as you all don’t get me into the reds with your purchases, you are free to pick as many things as you want, now that you all have your own space. Honestly… go wild! Did- Do you think I’d limit you? Bubby, you guys are my friends! If anything, I wholeheartedly encourage you to get lost for hours in the nearby thrift stores and find your own style- HURGH!-

Gordon found himself pulled into a tight hug- which only lasted for two seconds.

As Bubby pulled back, he looked away, brows furrowed.

“Thanks. You- you don’t get how much this means to- ...thank you, Gordon.”

“You’re welcome. Uh… should I go get us some food for when you guys are done or-”

“GOD! YES! Fuck off before this moment gets even more awkward!”, Bubby exclaimed with frustration, a hint of a smile tugging on the edge of his mouth.

Gordon threw up his hand in mock defence, not even trying to hide his grin.

#hlvrai #hlvrai gordon #hlvrai bubby #hlvrai sunkist #metalhead gordon au #fanfic #fanfics #rocking out to metal is one of the healthiest coping mechanisms #also absolutely ALL COMFORT STIMMING

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visceraah · 3 years

Text

The sound of music

(aka i’m so sorry for naming it after a musical it has nothing to do with dkjsdjksdjk names are hard)

My gift for @anianthe for @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Rating- Teen cause i’m incapable of not writing wayyy more swears then are necessary-

WC- 2947

Ship- Just Virgil interacting w the other sides,, feel free to interpret romantically if you want!

Warnings- not really any! Remus shows up briefly so.. beware of that. and ig Virgil is also kinda mean bUT he does it affectionately.

AO3

“We’re having a movie night!”

Virgil blinked. Took off his his headphones which, unfortunately, hadn’t been playing anything- he wore them out of habit, sometimes- meaning he heard everything his stupid best friend just said.

“No, we aren’t.”

Roman flopped down on his bed without waiting for any indication it was okay, something Virgil was all too used to. “We are now.”

Virgil sighed heavily and pushed Roman with his foot, trying to roll him off the bed. He didn’t budge. “And if I don’t want to?”

“Pleaseeee?” Roman employed the puppy dog eyes and Virgil knew already this was a losing battle. Ugh.

“I get to pick the movie.”

Roman perked up immediately, coming to sit next to him. “Yes! Okay! Just- Disney?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, wondering if Roman was capable of consuming content made by anyone else. He was beginning to doubt it. “Nightmare Before Christmas, then.”

“Predictable.” Roman murmured smugly, and he elbowed him.

“You want this movie night or not?”

“Okay, okay! I yield!” Roman cried, clutching his ribs. Virgil was pretty sure he was more upset at the prospect of a cancelled movie night then the ‘pain’ he was overplaying right now.

“Okay.” Virgil agreed, smugly, and set the movie on.

He’d seen it a million times already, which for most people would only make it boring by now- but Virgil found comfort in familiar things. Plus, that animation! He could happily watch it a million more times- and, honestly, probably would.

That meant he had it memorised, though, and soon enough he was singing along to the introduction under his breath. He listened along contently, until an unfamiliar third voice joined the chorus, and he startled, looking to the side. “Roman?”

Roman stared back, raising an eyebrow at him. “... Hi.”

“Were you singing along?”

Romans eyes flicked between Virgil and the screen, where the movie was still playing, in confusion. “Yes, Dr Gloom? Look, I know what a downer you love to be, but these pipes can’t stay closed all the time! They need exercise- and, the world deserves- neigh, needs to hear them!”

Virgil huffed at the dramatics, although it was fond. “I never said it was a problem, Sir Sing-a-lot, I’m just surprised.”

“One, that’s not an insult and I’m absolutely using that,” Roman retorted, “And two… It’s Disney! One of their best! Do you really expect me to not know the words?”

Virgil snorted, but he had to admit, he couldn’t disagree with that. “Whatever, nerd.”

Roman gasped, somehow seeming more upset than when Virgil had elbowed him. Of course that’d be what got to him. “I am not! I’m a prince- a very princely prince! Not-”

“Whatever you say, prince of the nerds.” Virgil hummed out, smirking to himself. Maybe Roman bursting in out of nowhere wasn’t so bad… This time. He still hated surprises and would not be convinced to do this again. He said that every time

Being Romans best friend, unfortunately, had its side effects. One was unplanned, unannounced Disney marathons he had no choice but to roll with. Another was actually listening to his musicals so often he learned to like them, too.

For all he said about Hamilton being overrated (and Romans reaction was priceless every time), he had to admit it was good. A little fast for him to keep with, but he rarely sang along to his songs anyway, preferring to hum quietly unless he was really in the mood.

He liked keeping his music to himself, too- he didn’t want to annoy anyone, so he always wore headphones- but sometimes he just wanted to drown the world out, and they went to full volume. Worked a treat to drown everyone out, but plenty audible to everyone else in the room. Sometimes, though, they’d just have to live with it.

Today was one of those days, where Virgil didn’t want to speak to anybody and had the volume to show it. He was playing one of Princeys musicals, too, humming along to ‘my shot’ no matter how different it was to his normal taste. He nodded in acknowledgement as he passed Logan on his beeline for the fridge, planning on grabbing the easiest and least healthy snack possible.

Retreating with his bag of marshmallows in hand- he was pretty sure they weren’t meant to be in the fridge, but they were imaginary, so maybe nothing needed to go in the fridge. Holy shit.

He pulled the headphones back, opening his mouth to ask Logan's opinion, when he heard a sound that made him freeze in his tracks.

Logan was rapping along to himself. And well. Jesus, how had he forgotten about that? He stared, still in disbelief, and Logan awkwardly trailed off when he noticed his gaze. “Ah, you could hear me.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to ask… Doesn’t matter. Holy shit, Lo, you’re amazing.”

Logan flushed slightly, looking down at the table. “I simply have an appreciation of the genre, and Hamilton has some particular, uhm- how would you say? ‘Bangers’.”

Virgil laughed, slipping into the seat opposite him and taking the headphones off completely. “Dude, I’ve spent enough time with Roman to know having an ‘appreciation’ doesn’t mean you can pull something off.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly fighting back a smile. “I am not sure he’d appreciate you saying that.”

“Eh, I’ve said it to his face before- and will again.” Virgil dismissed, feeling his lips turn up as well. “Why don’t you do it more?”

Logan shrugged, adjusting his glasses awkwardly. “It is hardly a logical skill for me to have, so it simply… Hasn’t come up.”

“Ro doesn’t need an excuse for songs to ‘come up’ before he starts singing them.” Virgil pointed out, and Logan chuffed.

“No, he certainly doesn’t. But we are different people.”

Virgil laughed, nodding. “You could say that again.”

“Oh. Alright, we are differen-”

“It’s an expression, dude. Come on.” Virgil interrupted, sounding nothing but fond as Logan widened his eyes in realisation.

“A highly illogical one, but alright. I can add it to my flashcards to avoid further confusion.” He decided, pulling out his deck there and then to add to. He paused when he heard the crackling of a plastic bag pulled open, looking up as Virgil helped himself to a marshmallow. “Please do not tell me you intend on consuming that entire bag.”

“Maybe.” Virgil held it out, grinning now. “Want one?”

“A key ingredient is gelatin, created by boiling down a pig or cows bones, skin, ligaments or tendons.” Logan deadpanned, and Virgil almost threw the whole bag away in disgust before he remembered,

“But they’re imaginary!”

Logan titled his head. “I suppose so.”

“Actually, I was thinking…” Virgil began, curious about how the fridge actually worked. Soon enough Logan was in a full-fledged rant about mindscape food, and half of it went over his head, but he didn’t mind listening. It was interesting, after all.

Whatever concerns Virgil had about not bothering anyone with his music, the other sides didn’t share them. Roman didn’t hesitate to sing whatever came to mind as it came to mind, offering full renditions of his favourite musical tracks daily, Logan could be heard humming to himself as he worked, Remus had no restraint about… Anything, really, and this was no different, Janus wasn’t exactly considerate, and Patton- Patton was the worst at all.

He wandered the mindscape belting out whatever was in his head at the moment which, as a father figure, was always old, tacky, and bad. They’d learned to ignore it for the most part, but some of the songs he played… Some of them were just unforgivable. And, sitting on the couch as Patton tidied up a little, Virgil had left himself completely at their mercy.

“JOLENE-”

Virgil pulled his hoodie over his ears, wishing he’d brought his headphones. Or just not left his room. “Please, no.”

“Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeeene, I’m begging of you please don’t take my man-”

“Pain, Padre. This is causing me physical pain.” Virgil groaned, slamming his head back in an attempt to make it all stop. Unfortunately, the sofa was soft, and he just bounced back. Eurgh.

“Awh, cmon kiddo! I’m just singing. You could always join me.” Patton chirped, rearranging the same jar for the fourth time in three minutes.

“I might die.” Virgil deadpanned, staring Patton dead in the eyes, and he giggled.

“Don’t be silly… Come on, my music isn’t that bad!”

Virgil couldn’t quite believe his ears. Maybe they were still bleeding from being subjected to Dolly Parton. “You listen to dad music.”

“Well, yeah, but what else did you expect from your pops-”

Virgil groaned louder, shaking his head. “I- whatever. When’d you even start listening to country music?”

“Nico likes it!” Patton replied, brightly, and Virgil bristled.

“That’s it, Thomas has to break it off.”

It took Patton a second to recognize Virgil was joking, and he started laughing. “Don’t be so judgy! I listen to your music- in fact, I quite like being cautious in the disco.”

“Oh my god.” Virgil pulled his hood down further over his eyes, the secondhand embarrassment hitting him full force. “You’re so old.”

“Now, I know I’m no spring chicken, but that’s hardly a nice thing to say-”

“We are all the same age.” Logan interjected as he walked through the room, gone before Virgil could try and drag the only other sane one around him to his aid.

“Look, Patt- I love you, but Dolly is too far.” Jesus, Virgil was spending too much time with Roman. Dramatic ultimatums weren’t his style at all.

“... How about Country Roads?”

“Jesus Christ.” Virgil sunk further back into the sofa, hoping it’d just swallow him and his smile.

“I wanna play a song.”

“Get your own headphones.”

“But yours are so loud, they’re basically speakers! You ever turn them up to full volume while they’re on? How loud are they? Oooh, reckon they could rupture your eardrums so blood would bubble out your ears and trail down your face-”

“Stop.” Virgil interrupted with a grimace, before Remus’ imagination could go anywhere gorier. They’d been at this for ten minutes and his answer hadn’t wavered once. “It’s a no, alright? Just… Go away.”

Remus huffed loudly and dropped onto the sofa next to Virgil. Great. “What do you want?”

“Hmmm… Oh, I can do a list!” Remus declared, and before Virgil could tell him please, god, don’t, he was off. “A pony- to disembowel so I can use its guts for ritual purposes, that one dick in a Russian erotica museum they claim is Rasputins and has magical fertility powers, for Barry Bee Benson to be real so I can fu-”

“Alright!” Virgil shuddered and disconnected his headphones. He didn’t know what Remus wanted to do with a literal bee, and he liked it that way. “There.”

Remus grinned a grin with far too many teeth, just a little too sharp, and Virgil rolled his eyes, waiting for whatever monstrosity he was about to hear.

There’s some whores in this house, there’s some-

“You did not just play WAP!” Virgil punched Remus in the arm, pulling his headphones off “You- I swear to God, don’t do the dance.”

Remus was already halfway stood up and Virgil quickly pulled him back down. He’d never wanted Remus to stay sat next to him more in his life. (To be fair, it wasn’t something he felt often.)

“But I already know it!”

“Of course you do.” Virgil grumbled, glancing over at Remus. “Why do you have to play… This, up here?”

“Jannie’s kicked me out, you know how he is.”

Virgil blinked at him, regretting what he was about to say before the words even left his mouth. “If I get him to back off, will you keep your music to the dark side?”

“That’s not fun, though! Ooh, wait, Logan likes rap, doesn’t he? Reckon he’d like to see the dance?”

Virgil stared at Remus blankly. “Please, say that was a joke.”

“It wasn’t! If you wanna hear one, though… Ooh, ok. Two kids walk into a hospice- ”

“No.” Virgil interrupted again, although even he had to snort a little at how ridiculous it was. Even if it was also deeply, deeply twisted. “I- look, I’m gonna do it.”

Remus tilted his head further then looked natural. Virgil was pretty sure he heard a crack. “Thought you hated me and Double Dee.”

“I- I’m just doing this for my sanity, alright? And Logans.” Virgil snapped back, avoiding meeting his eyes.

Avoiding things didn’t work with Remus, though, and soon enough he was uncomfortably close, peering right at Virgil with that unsettling grin. “Awww, Purps is being nice to us.”

“Shut up.” Virgil hissed, sinking out before Remus could pry any further. Creativity was so pushy, Jesus.

Virgil shuddered. He hadn’t been in the dark side of the mindscape in years and, after so long of the bright upstairs, the dark walls felt a little claustrophobic. He just needed to make this quick.

He strode down the hallway, trying to squash the growing nervousness in his stomach. What was the worst that could happen?

… Literally the worst thing he could’ve asked himself, he realised, speeding up subconsciously. So much could go wrong, while he was down here, and he didn’t even know where Deceit was, what if he tripped and fell and broke something and nobody would-

Piano, faint, made him stop in his tracks.

He wasn’t really an expert in classical music, but this had to be one of the more famous pieces, because he’d definitely heard it before. It was good, though, Mozart or something. Pretty difficult, too.

Exactly the kind of pretentious shit Deceit would play, and kick Remus out to enjoy. (Although Virgil couldn’t really blame him for that second part). Emboldened now he knew he wasn’t alone, and could make some jokes about what a snob he was, Virgil entered the room the sound was coming from.

He paled, because in front of him sat Deceit. At a piano. Playing the song.

“Since when do you play.”

Deceit only glanced up at Virgil, the melody smooth even with the interruption. He hated to admit it, but it was impressive. “Things have been quiet. I had time.”

“Quiet? With Remus?”

“I made things quiet.” Deceit amended, shrugging nonchalantly. Knowing him, it had probably been meant to sound as murder-y as it did. Didn’t stop Virgil from shuddering, anyway, serving as the perfect reminder of just how desperately he wanted to leave.

“Alright, look- whatever plan or plot this is, or is covering up, I don’t care.”

Deceit sighed, looking up at Virgil without faltering the music once. Jesus, he actually was good. “You’re right, I’m incapable of having any interests whatsoever without there being some deep, sinister plot behind it. You’ve spotted my evil plan.”

“I- alright, sarcasm’s meant to be for something obviously not true! That could be true!” Virgil protested, already feeling like he was losing this.

Deceit just raised an eyebrow at him in response, and Virgil instinctively hissed back, feeling more and more like he was backed into a corner.

Deceit had the nerve to laugh at him. “It’s been a while since you’ve done that.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to talk to anyone so- so-” Virgil groaned, glaring at Deceit. “Stop playing that stupid thing, would you?”

“Alright.” Deceit agreed, and Virgil waited. He kept waiting. The piano continued and after an excruciating minute of listening for an end, he cursed. Why had Virgil assumed he’d be honest?

“Dick.”

“That is my legal name.” Deceit agreed dryly, and Virgil rolled his eyes. He was impossible to talk to.

“Look, just let Remus back down. He’s probably scarring Logan as we speak.”

Deceit smiled at the thought, looking back down at the keys as he played them. “I never said he couldn’t be down here. Oh, and I’m sure there’s /nothing/ about ‘scarring’ Logan that could’ve appealed to him.”

“What, so Remus lied?” Virgil crossed his arms. Remus was plenty of things, but one of them was painfully, brutally, upfront and honest. “That’s your thing.”

“Not lied.” Deceit tutted, like scolding a child for not knowing something they should have. Virgil clenched his fists. “Just… Was dramatic.”

Virgil tried to figure out what he meant before realising it meant literally nothing, and he glared at Deceit. “Stop being so cryptic for five seconds and tell me, Jesus.”

“I wasn’t aware you cared about him so much.” Deceit smirked, and Virgil threw his arms up in exasperation.

“I’m trying to get rid of him!”

Deceit snickered but finally, mercifully, seemed to have already had his fun. “I didn’t tell him to get out if he couldn’t just be quiet and not…” His smile faltered… “Dance on the piano.”

Yeah, that expression was priceless. Virgil laughed as Janus furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“Just… Nevermind.” Virgil was pretty sure imagining that scene playing out was enough entertainment to last him weeks. And a reminder that honestly… Remus didn’t cause as much chaos as he gave him credit for. He was all bark… And plenty of bite, too, but nothing too permanent. “Keep playing, or whatever.”

“You aren’t going to demand I fetch the Duke?”

“He’s not a dog.” Virgil dismissed, resisting a smile at Deceit’s murmured ‘ehhhhh’. “He’ll come back when he wants to. And Logan can look after himself.”

“Amazing.” Deceit sighed heavily. “You wasted my time for nothing, then.”

Virgil could be proud of that, at the very least. He grinned in way of response, sending Deceit a nod before he sunk out.

#virgil sanders #anxiety virgil #uh #wow i've forgotten how to tag #ts gift exchange 2020 #ts virgil #everyone shows up but i don't wanna tag them all cause they aren't like. the MAIN ones #mads' writing

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

Text

Meeting Over Tea 3/21/2021

Alastor visits Sir Pentious a.k.a. Ruddy @ruddygore to check out his COOL MAD SCIENCE MACHINES (and see whether or not he can’t worm his way into being a helpful part-time henchman to this one too).

They talk about universe-hopping technology and magic, and agree to trade some useful info.

Alastor

Alastor’s got his hair styled all fancy and he smells like somebody who actually showers but like, he’s still dressed the way Radio Demons dress. He only fancies up so far.

He promised lunch if Ruddy let him come over so he’s got like a basket of finger foods, the kind of things that wouldn’t get the way if their primary activity is gonna be walking around and looking at machines. Mainly, the sort of things Penny likes plus the sort of things Telly like plus a couple of odds and ends while he tries to suss out Ruddy’s particular preferences.

Sir Pentious

Ruddy isn't very picky. He USED to be, but you raise twelve kids and have to deal with all of their particular tastes growing up.. and you give up on wanting A FINE GOURMET DINNER JUST SO.

Alastor arrived on the balcony of one of Ruddy's ships, he can see the rest of the fleet docked nearby. Ruddy will give Alastor an Analyzing Once Over, because come on, this is the guy his alternate is dating? Really? But whatever, he supposes love is blind. Come along then, Radio Demon, step inside and come see his portal.

Alastor

He’s gotta take a second to admire that fleet, he hasn’t seen a fleet like that since the sixties... okay he’s ready—oh this snake is Tall. Oh my.

HE KEEPS HIMSELF TOGETHER but wow this snake is Tall

Sir Pentious

This snake is tall! It's all the unchecked ego. He was more reasonably sized a few months ago, but after taking out VOX??? He's all thick scales and amped up cobra breathing. VERY HEAVY, a lot of slithering noise when he moves. He'll check the time on his pocketwatch, then tuck it away, pick his cane up from where it was leaning against the railing, and give Alastor a STERN LOOK. "NO FUNNY BUSINESS, ALASTOR. MY ALTERNATES MAY BE FOND OF YOU, BUT I WILL MAKE MY *OWN* DECISIONS."

Alastor

The MOST INNOCENT LOOK! ... But not quite innocent that it looks suspicious! “I’m not planning any business funnier than a bad pun or two! Your alternates are only fond of me because I treat them with the respect they deserve, and I intend to do no less here.”

Sir Pentious

A slight squint from Hattie, but Ruddy nods. "VERY WELL, ALASTOR. I WILL HOLD YOU TO THAT." A flourish! And he escorts the smaller man to the depths of his airship so Alastor can see the portals set up in the cargo bay, with the eggbois busily cleaning blood from the walls and mush that looked like sinners that went through the blender.

Alastor

He’s determined to win you over too, Hattie, just you wait.

Obviously he’s already grinning, but he’s Really Grinning when he starts seeing the inside of the airship, and Really Super Grinning when he sees the gore. “Test subjects?”

Sir Pentious

"NATURALLY. INNOVATION REQUIRES SACRIFICE, AND WHAT ARE A FEW SINNERS INCONVENIENCED IN THE NAME OF PROGRESS?" Ruddy cackles in that Pentious way, gesturing for the eggbois to drag another sinner in to chuck unceremoniously into the portal set into one wall. They come out on the other side of the room intact, somehow, but proceed to explode a few moments later, a hand bouncing to a stop in front of the two.

Ruddy prods the hand, flicking his tongue. "A DELAYED REACTION, BUT IT IS PROGRESS!"

Alastor

“I’m sure it’s the most productive thing they’ve done down here!”

He watches keenly as another test subject is thrown through, and his invisible audience applauds raucously when they emerge intact from the other portal. When the the sinner explodes, the applause increases to outright cheering. “All in all, very impressive! Know what makes ‘em explode yet?”

Sir Pentious

"OH. YES, I DO, AND I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY PREVENTED AT LEAST ONE DEATH. BUT IT'S SO FUNNY!!!" He grins, all teeth, and gestures for another to get chucked in. "AT THIS POINT I AM JUST TESTING THE LIMITS. HOW MUCH WARPING CAN A BODY HANDLE? THE LESS, THE MORE OF A DELAY BEFORE THE BODY EXPLODES."

Alastor

“And a good scientist certainly keeps experimenting with different variables after getting one success! He must be thorough, mustn’t he?” He watches gleefully as the next is chucked in and laughs when they pop. “Plus it’s a hell of a good show, I’ll give it that!”

Sir Pentious

Preen preen... He smooths down his lapels and rumbles a purr. "A GOOD SHOW..." He hums, tapping a silk encased finger to his lips. "YES! THAT DOES REMIND ME. YOUR ALTERNATE ASKED ME TO BROADCAST SOME CARNAGE FOR HIM, PERHAPS I WILL LET HIM SEE THIS BEFORE I GO SHOOTING ANY OVERLORDS DOWN."

Alastor

“Oh, DID he! I’m sure he’d also enjoy seeing the amazing teleporting blender! And do tell me when that other show’s going to happen, I’ll be sure to tune in!” A caaasual sideways glance. “I’m sure you can handle your own broadcasting needs, but! If you ever find you’d LIKE an on-site commentator at your carnage, I’d happily volunteer myself for the position. There’s too few brawls worth watching these days, much less reporting on.”

Sir Pentious

Ruddy scoffs, but fixes Alastor with a mischievous side eye. "I SEE, THAT'S HOW YOU WON OVER TELLY, HM? ENDLESS FLATTERY. HE DID CALL YOU ENTHUSIASTIC."

Alastor

Oh goodness. He’s talked to Telly. He HADN’T talked to Telly earlier. What did Telly say about him? Enthusiastic??

To his credit, Alastor’s only frozen with panic for a half second. “And every bit of the flattery is sincere! I am a keen fan of your work, sir—and I see no good reason to pretend I’m not.”

Sir Pentious

He's snickering, shoulders shaking slightly as he turns his head away. Like a deer in the headlights, wasn't that the expression? "YES, I'M SURE. GENIUS IS ALLURING, AFTER ALL." And then he immediately switches gears, slithering over to a nearby console to pick up something that looked suspiciously similar to a grocery store barcode scanner. "NOW COME HERE. I HAVE FOUND A USE FOR YOU!!!!"

Alastor

Well THAT’S a very interesting choice of words. Oh he’s gonna ask Telly some questions later.

But if they’re moving on, then Alastor isn’t about to ask what Sir Pentious suspects/knows. “Do tell! I’m all ears.”

Sir Pentious

He gestures with his scanner, pointing it at Alastor with a knowing smirk. Oh, he is so clever. "YOU ARE FROM A DIFFERENT HELL." That doesn't explain things, Ruddy. Try again. "I CAN LOCK ON TO YOUR HOME REALITY AND OPEN A PORTAL THERE WITH *THIS*, AND THEN I'LL HAVE THE COORDINATES LOGGED FOR FUTURE USE. IT WILL BE MY FIRST STEP TOWARDS INTER-DIMENSIONAL TRAVEL!"

Alastor

“Wonderful! What’s involved? Do you scan me?” A nod at the scanner-looking thing. “Or do I carry it home with me, take some readings, and bring it back to you? Or what?”

Sir Pentious

"SCANNING YOU WILL BE ENOUGH TO OPEN A PORTAL TO YOUR HELL. HOWEVER, IF I WANT TO OPEN IT SOMEWHERE *SPECIFIC,* I WILL NEED THE LATTER. HELLS CAN BE SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT, AFTER ALL..." He shrugs. "I DON'T KNOW IF YOU SAW, BUT WHEN YOU ARRIVED WE WERE PARKED OVER THE RUINS OF THE CANNIBAL COLONY OF THIS HELL. IF I OPENED A PORTAL TO THE SAME LOCATION IN YOUR HELL, IN *THEORY* THE OTHER SIDE WOULD LEAD TO SEVERAL HUNDRED FEET ABOVE A MUCH LESS RUINED COLONY. HOWEVER, UNTIL I GET MORE DATA, I AM BEING CAUTIOUS ABOUT OPENING PORTALS WHERE I *THINK* THEY WILL GO. I DON'T NEED TO INVITE ANY OUTSIDE OVERLORDS INTO MY TERRITORY."

Alastor

A surprised jolt. “No, I didn’t notice, actually.” He’d been too distracted by that beautiful fleet.

He considers that. Sound thinking, all around. “While you’re still experimenting with opening portals across dimensions, I’ve found that the Happy Hotel is a remarkably stable location across dimensions—probably why his majesty put a building there to begin with—and, thanks to the princess’s project, it’s fairly reliable neutral ground in all the nearest neighboring dimensions. If you’re being cautious, that might be a safe spot to start.”

Sir Pentious

"THE HOTEL, HM? I HAVEN'T BEEN BACK THERE SINCE THE LOCAL ALASTOR CRUSHED ONE OF MY AIRSHIPS." He gives Alastor a quick scan, then turns to type the information into his console. "PERHAPS I WILL APPROACH THE PRINCESS ABOUT MAKING USE OF HER GROUNDS. NOT AS A GUEST, HOWEVER. I PUT NO FAITH IN THAT REDEMPTION NONSENSE." A press of an overly large button, and lo and behold! the "out" portal shuts down, the in portal reveals a red sky, shimmering like it was being seen through a heat haze.

He takes a moment to look pleased, then gestures for the eggbois to chuck another sinner through.

Alastor

“Hm! Tingly!” He watches the information being entered. “Oh, of course not—the whole redemption thing is ridiculous! But most versions of her I’ve heard about have been perfectly happy to let people use the hotel grounds for other purposes. Management feels it’s good PR for the whole project.”

He blinks curiously at the portal. Well, it sure looks like his Hell—but then again, so do most Hells.

Sir Pentious

Ruddy watches the sinner fall through, slithering closer as the eggbois reel them back in to wait for the explosion.

It doesn't come. He nods. "I WILL KEEP IT IN MIND. THOUGH I DON'T RELISH THE THOUGHT OF LOCAL ALASTOR ALTERNATE BOUNCING OVER THE WAY HE DOES TO ASK THE SAME QUESTION AGAIN EVERY TIME WE MAKE EYE CONTACT. HE WORKS THERE, AFTER ALL, I IMAGINE I'D SEE A LOT OF HIM IF I SET A SCALE INTO THE BUILDING."

Alastor

Well, how about that! Round of applause.

Alastor gives him a curious look. "Same question?"

Sir Pentious

He rolls ALL of his eyes, moving away from the console to scan the sinner with his gun.

"HE ALWAYS ASKS IF HE KNOWS ME. THE SAME JOKE FOR EIGHTY YEARS, ALASTOR. AND HE ONLY SEEMS TO GET MORE EXCITED TO ASK EACH TIME. NOW THAT THE COLONY IS NO MORE, HE PRACTICALLY SPRINTS ACROSS THE CITY IF HE CATCHES A WHIFF OF MY COLOGNE. SURELY HE HAS SOMETHING BETTER TO DO WITH HIS TIME!!"

Alastor

Alastor don’t be weird and smell his cologne. Alastor. Alastor don’t do it.

He puts some serious thought into this pronouncement. “You know... he probably doesn’t.”

Sir Pentious

In Alastor's defense, it's a VERY nice cologne that Ruddy pays obscene amounts to get smuggled in from Earth. Just like the materials he used to make his own suit and gloves.

There's a moment where it almost seems like Ruddy didn't hear him, then the snake turns to slither straight into Alastor's personal space, leaning down to look him in the eyes. Suspicious man. "EXPLAIN, ALASTOR."

Alastor

OH HELLO THERE. He does an impressive job of not leaning back. “He’s probably bored out of his mind! I’M usually bored out of MY mind. If he’s going out of his way to make the same joke over and over? Why, I’m sure it’s one of the few reliable things he’s got that keep on giving him a few minutes of entertainment! So no! He probably doesn’t have anything better to do with his time.” A shrug.

Sir Pentious

A flick of the tongue. The cobra withdraws. Back to poking the protesting sinner with his cane, then. "I SUPPOSE NOT. YOUR BOYFRIEND SAID THE SAME, MORE OR LESS."

He scoffs. "THE MAN SHOULD LEARN TO MAKE FRIENDS, IF HE'S SO DESPERATE FOR ENTERTAINMENT. OR TAKE OUT AN OVERLORD! VOX HAD HALF THE RADIO TOWERS IN THE CITY CONVERTED BEFORE I KILLED HIM."

Alastor

Ignore the weird squeal of radio sound effects there.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this, but people have a tendency to scream in fear and run away when I say hello. It makes it a little tricky to make friends. And I’m not interested in politics—I took out my share of overlords when I arrived, the prospect of going after MORE sounds less like a fun whim and more like a tedious day job.” He pauses. Very VERY casually, “Is that what he’s calling me?”

Sir Pentious

Ah, there it is. Ruddy hums, twirling his cane around in his hand to suddenly crack the handle against the sinner's skull, sending blood and brain matter splattering across the floor. Can't have them listening in, after all!

"I SUPPOSE MOST SINNERS ARE STILL COWARDS." Ah, perfect, an eggboi with a towel to wipe the bits off his cane. " AS FAR AS WHAT YOU'RE CALLED. WELL. I SPOKE TO TELLY BRIEFLY... AND HE IS EVEN LESS SUBTLE THAN I. HE CRUMBLED UNDER THE SLIGHTEST INQUIRY AFTER PRAISING YOU INCESSANTLY. THE ONLY REASON I AM TELLING YOU THIS IS SO YOU ARE AWARE THAT _I_ KNOW. IT IS NONE OF MY BUSINESS, AND FRANKLY I DON'T CARE. BUT IF YOU WANT TO STAY UNDER THE RADAR, YOU'RE FAILING MISERABLY."

Alastor

“Oh, THAT’S all fine,” says Alastor, who is Not Fine At All, “it’s just the terminology, is all. We haven’t really talked it out yet, see. And ‘boyfriend’ sounds a little... eugh, it’s juvenile, isn’t it?” He makes a bit of a face.

Sir Pentious

There's a loud snort, and Ruddy slithers to the portal to stick his arm through, then withdraw and go to scan that next. "JUVENILE IS PUTTING IT MILDLY. HOWEVER, TELLY IS A VERY JUVENILE INDIVIDUAL. FOR A PENTIOUS, HE BARELY SEEMS TO KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING."

Whatever information he got from the scanner seems to please him, a smile stretching across his face as his talons flex. "THOUGH PERHAPS MY STANDARDS ARE TOO HIGH, I DID MEET PENNY FIRST AFTER ALL. A PENTIOUS WHO ESCAPED HELL! I COULDN'T BE MORE PROUD."

Alastor

He bristles slightly, but manages to hold back most of what he’d like to say to that. “He isn’t so juvenile that I’d insult him by calling him a ‘boy’ ‘friend.’”

Alastor doesn’t think escaping Hell ought to be used as a point in that Sir Pentious’s favor, considering that it was due to a lucky relationship rather than due to any sort of maturity—but is he going to be the sort of man who talks up his lover by talking down his best friend? (He’s actually never had to consider this question before.) No, no he is not. Although he does ask dryly, “And you’re so certain Telly *hasn’t?*” Sure, it was for one trip—but it was via the exact same method every single one of them had ever left Hell. “Sounds like he can keep some things under the radar, after all!”

Sir Pentious

Alastor gets another of those analyzing looks, and then a smug nod. "I'M AWARE THAT HE'S BEEN TO OKKYLK, HE TOLD ME THAT AS WELL. MADAME VALERA HELPED HIM THE SAME WAY SHE DID ME. AND PENNY. AND THAT ALASTOR IN HER HOME WHO CROSSED HIMSELF WHEN HE SAW ME. THAT WAS STRANGE."

He _shudders_, memories of Leal's antics playing in his mind before he turns his attention back to his guest. "RELAX, ALASTOR. YOUR _PARTNER_ IS IGNORANT, BUT HE IS A SIR PENTIOUS. HE'S GOT THE INTELLECT WE ALL SHARE, I AM NOT DISMISSING HIS ABILITIES."

Alastor

Huff! “Which one was THAT?”

He offers a tight smile. “No, just his maturity—and I heartily disagree with you. But, I’m not here to argue. Nor to discuss relationships! You see, I’m far less interested in my own amorous entanglements than I am in the cutting-edge technological advancements I came here to discuss!” A nod toward the scanner?

Sir Pentious

The first question is completely ignored by Big Snake, a knowing look crossing his face before he changes tracks straight back to the technological side of things. Blelele..

"YES, MY SCANNER. YOU MAY TAKE THIS AND SCAN WHATEVER AREA YOU DESIRE IN YOUR OWN HOTEL, AND THE COORDINATES WILL APPEAR ON THE DISPLAY UNTIL YOU SCAN ANOTHER SPOT. THEY WILL BE SENT BACK TO MY CONSOLE WIRELESSLY, SO NO NEED TO REPORT BACK TO READ IT OUT. SCAN HOWEVER MANY LOCATIONS YOU LIKE, ONCE I HAVE THE HOTEL I CAN BEGIN MY NEXT TEST."

Alastor

“Wonderful.” He makes no move to take the scanner yet. “I believe we’d also discussed the possibility of a mutual exchange of information? See if any of my magic might help you speed up your science and vice-versa?”

Sir Pentious

The suspicious squint is back on Hattie's.. face? "WE DID. THOUGH I'M CURIOUS ABOUT WHAT MY TECHNOLOGY CAN DO FOR A MAN OF MAGIC LIKE YOURSELF."

Alastor

Snaps fingers; a portal opens, his grimoire hops out and flips open, and a massive, elaborate star chart unfolds. It’s a giant complex system of precise lines and coordinates narrowed down to the fifth decimal point, glowing red, almost all of them changing second by second. “You’d be surprised how much math there is in my line of work.” All pure astrology, baby.

“THIS helps me do THIS.” A dramatic gesture, a surreptitious blood offering, and a portal opens behind Alastor. Through it, clear blue sky shines. “And it could probably help YOU get there just a little bit faster, too. Magic might not require as many microchips, but it’s got to find passages between dimensions and create temporary connections between distant locations, just like anything you’re making. We’re running on different machinery but it all relies on the same underlying laws of physics, it just exploits them in different ways. If I know how yours exploits them, it could help ME find ways to exploit them—and the same goes for you.”

He thumps his knuckles on his grimoire. “The spell I’ve got here lets me open a portal anywhere—provided that it’s on my Earth, because the location system built into the spell is based on a geocentric astrological model of the universe that’s only capable of spitting out coordinates on Earth’s surface. If I know how YOUR machine determines its coordinates, I might be able to find a way to substitute it in for this spell’s current coordinate system.”

Sir Pentious

Ruddy slithers backwards when the grimoire appears, all his eyes flicking around to watch Alastor explain himself and his thinking from a safe, or at least safer, distance. He may not have bad blood with the radio demon, but he wasn't an idiot.

His tongue flicks towards Alastor's portal to Earth, tasting the faint scents of something once familiar. Seeing a sky so blue... No. He shakes his head. Focus, Pentious.

"INTERESTING. ASTROLOGY AS A GUIDING FORCE. DID YOU LIFT THAT FROM STOLAS?"

He doesn't bother waiting for an answer, he doesn't actually care. "REGARDLESS. FOR MY EXPERIMENTS ON EARTH, I'D INTENDED TO USE THEIR SATELLITES. CELL TOWERS. ALL THAT AND MORE. THEY HAVE PLENTY OF TECHNOLOGY DEDICATED TO TRACKING PRECISE COORDINATES, A SMALL MATTER TO GET THAT TO SPEAK TO MINE. FOR HELL, HOWEVER, IT'S ALL ABOUT.. I SUPPOSE TUNING IN TO DIFFERENT FREQUENCIES. YOU'RE A MAN OF THE RADIO, YOU CAN IMAGINE WHAT I MEAN. YOU RESONATE AT THE FREQUENCY NATIVE TO YOUR HELL, MY SCANNER CAN TUNE IN TO THAT, AND THEN THE COORDINATES COME AFTER. FREQUENCY, LOCATION, IN THAT ORDER."

Alastor

Well, if he’s moving on, then Alastor’s not going to waste time on explaining where he got the spell!

“So your plan for Earth is close to what I’m already doing—it’s just that the satellites I’m tuning into are the planets and the satellites you’re tuning into are manmade.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I’d still like to see how you do it—if nothing else, they should be useful on a few more planets than Earth, and I work better with radio waves than I do with astrology.” It might even be easy to modify them to work on AM frequencies instead of cell phone frequencies.

Those Hell frequencies, though... Alastor shuts his eyes for a moment, seeing if he could detect that particular frequency himself. He didn’t even know if it was something within range of his own powers. “Are these frequencies only specific to Hell—or could you potentially use them to reach anywhere in any dimension? And if you’re getting the coordinates from that scanner doohickey, I take it you don’t even need cell towers for that.”

Sir Pentious

Ruddy puffs his chest, fixing his already perfectly even bowtie as he preens. "I HAVE TO DO MORE EXPERIMENTS, ALASTOR, BUT *THEORETICALLY!!!* THE FREQUENCIES COULD BE USED TO REACH ANY REALITY I PLEASED. THOUGH AS OF NOW MY SAMPLE SIZE IS YOU AND VALERA, AND I HAVEN'T HAD A CHANCE TO SCAN HER YET." And that's assuming he CAN scan Valera, her whole... Singularity thing, may make it more challenging. Not that *he* knows that yet!

"I DON'T NEED CELL TOWERS! THOUGH TRYING TO TAKE IT TO DIFFERENT REALITIES WOULD LIKELY BE ENOUGH TO BREAK THE LINK, I HAVEN'T...." A sudden thought, and he whips around to rip open the side of the console. "UNLESS I ADD PORTAL TECHNOLOGY TO MY OWN SCANNER OF COURSE!" Here comes that Pentious Cackle all over again.

Alastor

He waits politely for the cackle to finish. What a lovely sound. “So, hypothetical question—say you want to visit somewhere you’ve never been before. You know the dimension is there, you’ve talked to people from it—but you’ve never physically met them because they don’t have the ability to jump between dimensions and visit you first. So you can’t scan them and can’t pass off your scanner to them to grab coordinates for you. Are there other ways for you to get that information and manually enter it?”

Sir Pentious

Pentious freezes mid... whatever the hell he's doing to those poor wires, head tilting dramatically to one side as his face scrunches. "... I BELIEVE SO, YES. THEY HAVE AN INTERNET CONNECTION THEY ARE COMMUNICATING TO YOU THROUGH, SO THE INFORMATION IS BEING BROADCAST *SOMEWHERE*. IT IS A MATTER OF TRACING THAT, UNSCRAMBLING IT..." Oh here comes an eggboi, holding a tray above its head with a cup of tea and a heavily abused leatherbound journal. Both are snatched up, the tea held in the elegantly coiled tip of Ruddy's tail as he fiddles the journal open and finds a blank page to start scrawling on.

Give him a minute while he mumbles under his breath, or as close to it as a giant snake man can get. He's having a moment of genius.

Alastor

Don’t mind him as he scootches over to try to see what Sir Pentious is writing. He gets on his toes to try to get a better view. Considering that the snake’s got like three feet on him, this may not actually help. But by God he’s trying.

Sir Pentious

It's easy to ignore Alastor's efforts, but Ruddy moves seemingly automatically, twisting his body around Alastor to maneuver the smaller man between his chest and the journal. There, an unrestricted view. More than that, he starts explaining.

"AS I SAID, THE SIGNAL IS BROADCAST, AND I CAN ASSUME IT'S THROUGH THE PLATFORM WE ALL USE. NOW THAT I HAVE YOUR COORDINATES? I CAN, MOST LIKELY, FIND WHERE THEY'RE STORED, AND THEN USE THE SAME PATH FOR OTHER PEOPLE."

Alastor

“Oh.” He just got grappled/embraced to have a bunch of Science shown to him. “Brilliant.” Is his voice is a little higher than it should be? AHEM. “I suppose that wouldn’t be usable to reach ANY dimension, but it takes care of any with v#xblr...” A thought occurs to him. “Say. With blockhead dead, does that put you in charge of all his networks in this universe?”

Sir Pentious

"I'M NOT WORRIED. WITH ENOUGH OF A PRECEDENT I SHOULD BE ABLE TO START MAKING EDUCATED GUESSES ABOUT OTHER UNIVERSES. ONCE YOU LEARN HOW TO FRY AN EGG ONE WAY, YOU CAN FIGURE OUT THE OTHERS!!" Ruddy that didn't make sense.

Oh right, a question. No time to cackle, he has to stroke his hood and preen more. "IT DOES!! ALL HIS RESOURCES ARE MINE, INCLUDING HIS NETWORKS, THE POWER GRID, HIS WEALTH.. AND HIS PATENTS. NOT THAT I HAVE ANY USE FOR THEM!"

Alastor

Alastor nods. That makes perfect sense. One experience with eggs... can lead to many experiences with eggs.

“He has PATENTS?” Alastor laughs. “Who the hell did he steal them from?!” Oh but that’s not what he was going to talk about. “Now, no promises, but I MIGHT have a solution to your local Radio Demon problem.”

Sir Pentious

Looks like they're done talking about science now, time for Ruddy to unwind himself from around Alastor and put a polite distance between them again. "DO TELL, ALASTOR."

Alastor

“If you’ve got all of the boob tube’s holdings, then you’ve got his television and radio towers. Now, I can’t speak on behalf of an alternate of myself that I’ve never met before—but out of the ones I’ve met? Four out of five, if you offered them a couple of towers in exchange for a promise not to make one specific stupid joke, they’d fall all over themselves to take the bargain. Can’t imagine you have much use for most of those towers in your line of work anyhow; I doubt you’d feel the loss if, say, VSPN suddenly started broadcasting show tunes instead of hockey matches.”

Sir Pentious

A bribe, basically. He can understand the logic, what's a radio demon without a station? Give Alastor a few towers, get him off his tail. Hopefully permanently, but at least for most of the day while he was busy playing radio host. Hmm..

Ruddy slithers in a slow circle, ignoring it completely when an eggboi vaults into the middle of the mound of scales and muscle. "PERHAPSSS.. I HAVE LEFT THOSE STATIONS RUNNING NORMALLY, THEY NET ME A TIDY PROFIT. BUT I'M SURE I'LL SURVIVE WITHOUT THEM, IF IT GETS THAT FOOL TO STOP TACKLING ME. LET THE RADIO DEMON USE THOSE CHANNELS. "

Alastor

“You could always build a couple of replacement towers for the channels you’d be giving up for him. Or, hell, make a couple of fresh ones just for him to play with. After all, you’ve got the capital and the resources for it—and he doesn’t.”

Sir Pentious

"AND YOU REALLY THINK THAT WOULD BE ENOUGH TO DISTRACT HIM FROM EIGHTY YEARS OF HIS INCESSANT NONSENSE?" Well, why not? Alastor was right after all, he had the resources to spare. It would cost almost nothing from his perspective...

He taps at his chin, eyes narrowing. "PERHAPS. BUT DEALING WITH THE RADIO DEMON HAS A WAY OF COMING BACK TO BITE ONE IN THE *ASS*, FROM WHAT I'VE HEARD. I HAVE NO GUARANTEE THAT HE WOULD STICK TO HIS END OF THE BARGAIN."

Alastor

“No, I don’t think it would be enough to *distract* him. But I *do* think that if you make a proper deal with him, he won’t violate it just for the sake of making a stupid joke. Make his ownership of those towers contingent upon his ability to restrain himself from making stupid jokes at your expense. Hell, throw a restraining order in if you want! Put in a couple of clauses defining what happens if the contract is breached, to ensure that souls don’t get involved—if he makes his dumb jokes, you get the towers back; if you destroy or seize his towers, he regains his current freedom to pester you, nothing more than that. I can help you draft up the contract if you want—“ he laughs, “or refer you to some reputable neutral parties to draft it if you don’t trust a Radio Demon to help arrange a contract with a Radio Demon. Because you’re certainly right, dealing with me typically ends VERY badly, no point denying that—but usually that’s thanks to poorly-worded deals that let me get away with more than I ought to! With an airtight contract, I can’t do anything but what the contract says I can.”

Sir Pentious

Look at the face scrunch on that snake. "I WILL TAKE IT INTO CONSIDERATION, ALASTOR. BUT I WILL GO TO A NEUTRAL THIRD PARTY. AS YOU SAID, I WOULDN'T TRUST A RADIO DEMON I BARELY KNOW TO NEGOTIATE IN MY FAVOR AGAINST HIS OWN ALTERNATE. YOU MAY BE THE MOST LIKELY TO ALLY WITH SERPENTS, BUT YOU ARE STILL WHAT YOU ARE."

A shrug, and he takes his tea to give a cautious sip. Ah, good. Drinkable. Perhaps he'll try some of that food Alastor brought, too, before he forgets... "DID YOU WANT SOME COFFEE, ALASTOR? I ASSUME YOU DON'T CARE FOR TEA, IF YOUR ALTERNATE IS TO JUDGE BY."

Alastor

“Of course! If I were you, I wouldn’t trust me either! I don’t plan on giving you any reasons to doubt my intentions, I can wait to prove I’m trustworthy.”

A hand on his chest. “Very thoughtful of you! Yes, thank you.” He’ll just set that basket up on a table where it’s easier to access everything inside.

Sir Pentious

Ruddy hesitates a moment, then pulls out his phone to send a text off. Here comes a very fancily painted eggboi, a chair held over their head as they run on their tiny legs. Good, he DID have chairs in storage, he wasn't certain. "HAVE A SSSEAT. YOU ARE A GUEST, AFTER ALL." As far as he goes, he will coil up on himself to nibble this finger food.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY FURTHER QUESTIONS ABOUT MY MACHINES, ALASTOR? THE SCANNER, THE TECHNOLOGY BEHIND IT?"

Alastor

“Thank you!” And sit he will, like the guest he is! “And yes, actually! How many are you willing to put up with?”

Sir Pentious

"FIVE." A sip of his tea.

Alastor

Ooh. It’s a game now. He rubs his hands together, sorting through his questions carefully. “I’m going to assume that includes follow-up questions.” Where to begin... “Well, let’s start with the important part! In as close to layman’s terms as you can get—how, exactly, DOES this thing open up portals to other dimensions? I think we’ve only really discussed how to find coordinates, not how you reach them once you’ve got them!”

Sir Pentious

Now *that's* a good question. Ruddy grins over his tea, flicking through his journal before sliding it Alastor's way. "THROUGH MEANS OF HARNESSING HELL'S *ABUNDANT* ENERGY INTO A SINGLE POINT, I CAN MANIFEST A CONNECTION TO THE FOURTH DIMENSION I MAY TRAVERSE. OR *WHATEVER* THEY CALL IT THESE DAYS. IT INVOLVES SOME DISTORTION OF TIME AS WELL AS SPACE, SINCE YOU CANNOT TRULY MOVE FASTER THAN THE SPEED OF LIGHT. BUT WHO NEEDS TO, WHEN YOU CAN SIMPLY WRINKLE REALITY TO CONNECT TWO POINTS? IF THE UNIVERSES ARE LAYERS OF FABRIC, I AM PUTTING IN STITCHES AS I PLEASE TO BRING THEM TOGETHER. FEEL FREE TO GLEAN WHAT YOU CAN FROM MY JOURNAL! I USE A CIPHER, BUT THE ILLUSTRATIONS ARE ACCURATE TO MY THOUGHTS."

Alastor

His eyes brighten. “Like a...?” No, that would count as a question, he can hold onto that thought. He flips open the journal—and then, after a moment of thought, pulls out the loose pages detailing his spell and slides them over to Sir Pentious. “Most of it’s ritual and sigil, but there’s some buried in there on the mechanics that the magic is operating on, if you want to try to compare. I haven’t deciphered all of it myself, honestly—but if I HAD, I would’ve been Albert Einstein’s lab assistant instead of a radio host.” He starts looking through the journal, fascinated (as much by the cipher as by the illustrations), trying to see how much of it looks familiar.

Sir Pentious

The pages are accepted, silk gloves skimming over the sigils as Ruddy tries to parse what he's looking at. As long as he thinks of it as a rival's cipher, he can try to imagine what the seeming nonsense is saying. The hand not holding the papers wiggle fingers through the air, mumbling to himself as he pantomimes his way through math equations. It wasn't a one to one comparison, obviously, but there were enough similarities to be interesting, at least on the superficial level. Further research may be required after all, even if he hated to admit it.

Alastor

And just enough in Sir Pentious’s notes was familiar enough to nearly make sense. It was like trying to read music in measurements of Hertz and Decibels versus trying to read music in treble and bass clefs—two different systems to convert the same sounds into print.

He makes a “look here” whistle as he slides Sir Pentious’s journal over so he can compare one of the illustrations to a doodle Alastor left in the margins of his notes when he was trying to conceptualize the overlap between the mortal realm and the postmortem realm. They look pretty similar to him, and it tickles him.

Sir Pentious

Oh, those did look similar, didn't they?

... He's going to take it as a sign of his genius, figuring out the inner workings of magic beyond the average sinner entirely by accident. A smug smile stretches across his face, the strength of his raspy cobra purrs enough to vibrate the table beneath him. And here comes that fancy eggboi again, with a mug of fresh coffee to scoot onto the table in front of Alastor, complete with a biscotti.

"MY BRILLIANCE SURPASSES MY OWN EXPECTATIONS, I SEE. THERE IS POTENTIAL IN THESE PAGES."

Alastor

He picks up his coffee to save it from the vibrations. And a biscotti, no less! How fancy. They know how to treat coffee drinkers around here.

“You might benefit from learning a bit of magic! Not because I think you ought to switch fields—you, sir, will do a hundred times more with machinery than we could ever do with magic—but I bet you’d have a knack for decoding what all us magicians are doing half by instinct and dragging it into the world of science.”

Sir Pentious

The eggboi offers Alastor a curtsy, then scampers over to start running a cloth over Ruddy's scales. Gotta make sure his boss is shiny!

Ruddy ignores the egg entirely, mulling over Alastor's suggestion with expression ranging from disgust to consideration, then back. He shakes his head, lifting his tea for a sip. "NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! ..... WELL. MAYBE. I *SUPPOSE* I C--NO!!" A pause... "*WELL*..." Face scrunch. Shoulder shrug.

Alastor

How does he get that egg boi’s job? Tries not to stare too much.

He bites the inside of his mouth to fight the urge to laugh at that impressive face journey. “I’m sure you have plenty else to fill your time without diving into the occult!”

Sir Pentious

The eggboi doesn't notice the staring, humming happily while they move from the tip of Boss Man's tail and up. Turns out Ruddy can be moved around with a good poke to his underbelly.

The man looks like he sucked a lemon, but sighs heavily and gives up. "TRUTHFULLY, I HAD CONSIDERED THE OPTION BEFORE. BUT IT ISN'T EXACTLY A BEGINNER FRIENDLY PRACTICE, AND I HAVE NO INTEREST IN WASTING TIME WITH THE *BULLSHIT* CRYSTALS AND INCENSE THESE CADS PASS AS MAGIC THESE DAYS. IF I WILL BE STUDYING ANY MAGIC, EVEN IN A PRACTICAL SENSE, I EXPECT THE *PROPER* MATERIALS. THOSE ARE DIFFICULT TO FIND, EVEN IN HELL."

Alastor

He perks up! "I could recommend some authors? Both antemortem and postmortem texts—quality antemortem texts generally offer a good grounding in the theory of magic, postmortem ones assume prior study and are written by occultists who have the liberty to just ask fallen angels if they want to co-author. And really, if all you want is to study how it works, a few good books are all the materials you need! Unless you intend to experiment?"

Sir Pentious

Ruddy gives Alastor a withering look, ruined only by his tongue flicking out in a frilly little waggle. "DO YOU REALLY THINK I WOULD STUDY A MEDIUM AND *NOT* EXPERIMENT WITH IT, ALASTOR?"

Alastor

A shrug! "It depends on what you're studying it for, I imagine. Still! Even if you do experiment, there's plenty you can do with a piece of chalk, a starter spice rack, and an obsessive sense of focus! What kind of magic have you been looking into that needs rare materials?"

Sir Pentious

"I WONT BE SHARING *THAT* INFORMATION WITH YOU JUST YET, ALASTOR. THOUGH IF YOU BEHAVE YOURSELF LONG ENOUGH, PERHAPS I *WILL*." Oh yes, that's a smirk on that snake's face. "SUFFICE TO SAY, THE CONCEPTS IN MY MIND ARE AS ELABORATE AS MY MACHINES. IF THEY WORK, THEY WILL BLEND SEAMLESSLY WITH MY DESIGNS."

His tea is emptied in one last dainty little sip, the cup set aside and quickly spirited away by a second fancy egg, this one done up in a red, gold edged diamond pattern. A true Faberge eggboi. Now those hands are free to wave around as Ruddy speaks, which is either a boon or a curse depending on how much Alastor enjoyed watching him flail around on a whim.

Alastor

That’s just the slightest bit ominous. “Well, I don’t plan to *stop* behaving myself any time soon, but... Do be cautious with it. I’m sure you take all necessary precautions when working with new techniques, but magic can be particularly unforgiving if one’s ambitions outstrip one’s experience.”

Fortunately, he’s perfectly content to watch Sir Pentious gesture wildly. He tries to catch sight of the fancy egg’s number as it leaves. *Those* are certainly a new addition.

Sir Pentious

The fancy egg leaving with the empty cup is #88, laid out on the back in an overly ornate font. Only a few of the eggbois seem to be done up in fancy paints and metals, most of them the humble eggboi classic. The fancy ones seem to be allowed to interact with Ruddy personally without getting launched across the room.

Speaking of, the eggboi polishing the Boss Man has now climbed onto the table, sitting obediently as Ruddy drums his claws over the enameled shell. A little wave is directed at Alastor, but it keeps uncharacteristically quiet. As does Ruddy, for all of two seconds. "THE CONCERN IS... *APPRECIATED*." Getting that out was like spitting tacks, but he carries on. "I WILL BE CAUTIOUS. AND ACCEPT YOUR SUGGESTIONS OF AUTHORS." Accepting help. Disgusting.

Alastor

Huh. Alastor wonders if Sir Pentious has a thing for doubled numbers. He’ll have to pay attention to the other fancy ones.

And here Alastor expected Sir Pentious to get offended by the concern. (He suspects Sir Pentious still IS offended, but at least he’s not taking it out on Alastor.) “I’ll go through my personal library and send you a list of recommendations soon.”

Sir Pentious

Ruddy tik tik tiks his claws on the eggboi, letting out something that could have been a sigh or a hiss. Look at him, having a *casual conversation* with the radio demon. This was dangerous, no matter how much of a snake fetish this man seemed to have. "AND WHAT DO YOU WANT IN EXCHANGE FOR THIS, ALASTOR? I CAN HARDLY EXPECT SOMETHING FOR NOTHING, ESPECIALLY NOT FROM YOU."

Alastor

Alastor's brows go up. What does he WANT? He doesn't want anything. Nothing concrete, at least. He wants to see Sir Pentious learn to reverse other overlords' magic tricks. He wants to prove himself useful to Sir Pentious. Nothing more than that.

But there would be no faster way to gain Sir Pentious's suspicion than by claiming he's helping out of the goodness of his heart. If Alastor says he doesn't want anything, Sir Pentious might refuse to take Alastor's help all together. After a quick moment of thought—something harmless, something that will be as low-effort for Sir Pentious as collecting a few names will be for Alastor—he says, "A recording of your next fight, if you'd be so kind. It need not be high quality—I'm primarily interested in the audio, anyway." Play up the harmless fanboy angle, it's probably the persona that can get Alastor past Sir Pentious's wariness the fastest.

Sir Pentious

A recording of his next fight? That was something he already planned on streaming, but.. a recording wouldn't be hard to arrange. No harder than, say, thinking for a few minutes about what names to suggest for an aspiring scholar of magic to start looking into. It was equivalent. It was *fair*. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. But he couldn't see it biting his tail any way he twisted it. Knowledge for entertainment, books for bloodsport, even.

He nods. "VERY WELL. I WILL SEE ABOUT UPGRADING ONE OF MY SMALLER DRONES WITH A CAMERA. I HAVE PLANS FOR ANOTHER OVERLORD IN THE NEXT DISSSTRICT, YOU'LL GET YOUR BLOODSHED."

Alastor

Mission accomplished. Well done, Alastor. “Oh, do tell! Is it a name I might have heard?”

Sir Pentious

Ruddy pokes his own cheek, cocking his head dramatically to the side as his face scrunches. A name... A name... "ERM... MAYBE? SHE'S HARDLY A MEMORABLE BEING. THE REPTILE. WITH THE.." He mimes around his head, trying to convey big hair, then cups his chest. An *ample* bosom. "MADAME... ZILLA??? MISS ZILLA? MISS LIZARD? I DON'T KNOW. SHE ISN'T STYLISH ENOUGH TO REMEMBER, AND IF THINGS GO WELL SHE'LL BE DEAD SOON ANYWAY SO IT WONT MATTER!!!"

Alastor

Reptile with boobs named after a movie monster. Didn’t ring any bells. “I bet she’d make a lovely coat.”

Sir Pentious

"MAYBE FOR YOU! SHE'S FAR SMALLER THAN I AM, AND HER FLORESCENT YELLOW HAIRDO IS AN AFFRONT TO MY EYES." Unlike his FAR more respectable yellow, of course, which is nothing but pure class. Preen preen.. Oh, he got distracted.

The scanner is slid across the table. "BACK TO BUSINESS. YOU'LL BE NEEDING THIS, I'M SURE."

Alastor

“Ah, right! Of course!” He picks up the scanner. “I lost count of my questions. It’s probably been five, though. Oh, but one on the operation of this.” He taps the scanner, “If I’m going to be picking up viable landing points for you, then probably the best thing I can do is trace the corners of the building and then the corners of the lobby, isn’t it? Otherwise you’ll have to guess where the walls are, and I can’t imagine that would end well.”

Sir Pentious

"CORRECT. I'M GLAD YOU FIGURED THAT OUT ON YOUR OWN, SAVES ME THE BOTHER OF EXPLAINING!" Odds are opening a portal into a wall would be fine, since he could see through the portal before slithering through, but he'd rather not waste more sinners than he had to in foreign hells. Harder to get those back.

"IT WAS EXACTLY FIVE, IN FACT. THOUGH IN FAIRNESS, THEY WEREN'T ALL RELATED TO THE ORIGINAL TOPIC. I WON'T COUNT YOU ASKING AFTER THE NAME OF A RIVAL OVERLORD, SO YOU HAVE ONE LEFT." Sir Pentious smooths his lapels. So great and generous a man, truly. Letting people pry into his genius like this.

Alastor

"Very kind of you! In that case..." Well, all his most pressing questions about the science have been answered, it'll take him a while to think up more. So instead... "What's your goal, visiting out parallel dimensions like this? Alliances, turf, resources? I can't imagine you're expending this much time and effort just to go sightseeing."

Sir Pentious

"A FINE QUESTION, ALASTOR!" He smiles genuinely at the smaller man, though it's quickly wiped away by a tide of smug self importance as he fiddles with his bowtie.

"I HAD LITTLE INTEREST IN TRAVELING THROUGH VARIOUS HELLS UNTIL I MET MY ALTERNATES, AND LEARNED SUCH FEATS WERE NOT ONLY POSSIBLE, BUT APPARENTLY COMMONPLACE! I HAVE LITTLE IN THE WAY OF GOALS BEYOND PROVING THAT I CAN DO IT AS WELL AS ANY MAGIC!" Sir why are you proud of that fact. "ARE THERE USES? CERTAINLY! BUT THEY ARE SECONDARY. I DID NOT START THE PROJECT THINKING OF CONQUEST OR RESOURCES IN THE SLIGHTEST."

Alastor

Oh look, Alastor got honest praise for asking a mundane question. Alastor could get to like this snake, he knows how to hand out cheap flattery to reward behavior he likes. “So scientific exploration for its own sake and the pride of doing what others thought could not be done! Entirely respectable.”

Sir Pentious

"THAT'S ONE WAY TO PUT IT, YES." Alastor sounded like a PR agent. Which was funny, but Ruddy was perfectly aware of who he was. Years of being told something had that effect.

He pulls out his pocket watch, checking the time on reflex. "THAT MAKES FIVE, ALASTOR. YOU HAVE BEEN A MODEL GUEST SO FAR, SO I'M NOT INCLINED TO DUMP YOU OUT OF THE BAY DOORS."

Alastor

What kind of a radio host would Alastor be if he didn’t know how to spin the news?

“And you, sir, have been a model host, so I’m not inclined to jump out of the bay doors.” He finishes the last of his coffee and gets to his feet. “Thank you for the demonstration, the conversation, and the hospitality! It’s been a most pleasant time.”

Sir Pentious

"OF COURSE. I WOULD BE A SORRY EXCUSE FOR A MAN IF I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO ENTERTAIN SUCH AN..." Eyebrow raise. "*ENTERTAINING* GUEST. I WILL BE AWAITING THE COORDINATES AT THIS CONSOLE."

Alastor

How polite. He scoops up his basket. “I’ll have them with you shortly!” He picks up his basket, bows extravagantly, and takes two steps back into a portal he opened for himself.

Time to collect coordinates.

Sir Pentious

Alastor has all the time in Hell to get around to that, Ruddy managed to get sucked into tinkering with some small clock on top of the console.

Alastor

It doesn’t more than a few minutes for him to start sending in coordinates—first around the exterior corners of the hotel, and then the interior corners of the lobby. And then, a few minutes later, a second set of coordinates from the hotel the next dimension over. And then a third iteration of the hotel. He’s going for extra credit.

Sir Pentious

Good thing he couldn't hear the way Ruddy squawked when the first notification popped up, his screwdriver getting flung halfway across the room and straight into the mouth of a nearby eggboi. The amount of hissed swears and frantic fumbling to clear all the little gears and springs away from the screen would have made a sailor blush. The whole project is swept onto a tray and put aside, and Ruddy gets to watch the expected coordinates show up. And then another set? And a third. This Alastor wanted to impress him so badly, no wonder his alternates were so insistent he was trustworthy. Feeding their egos was a surefire way to dazzle them.

Ruddy sniffs haughtily, but stores the coordinates anyway. Fine, Alastor. You win points, but he's not HAPPY about it. Even if the information *is* valuable. Hrmph.

Alastor

When Alastor's finished, he very helpfully messages Sir Pentious an explanation—coordinate set #2 is for Penny's universe, coordinate set #3 is for Telly's. Alastor imagines Sir Pentious would be most interested in visiting his own alternates first, after all.

Sir Pentious

... Alright. A few extra points, but he hates it. He messages a ⚙️👍 back, sinking into his own coils to stew in suspicion and gratitude. How *helpful* of Alastor, thinking ahead like that. Awful. But useful. But *awful!!!*

Alastor

The Radio Demon is infamous for his nefarious helpfulness. Watch out!!

#ruddygore #chat log

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asoftervirge · 4 years

Text

Of “Love” & Murder - (2/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: Love (Unrequited or Not) Is Sweeter Than All the Candies Patton Could Make

RATING: PG (will change)

PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: Baking, Food Mentions, Flirting, Snarky Comments/Banter, Puns, Kissing

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Patton delivers Virgil’s chocolates and gets a special treat in return.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Friendly remind that a chapter will be posted every day until Halloween, hence as to why there’s 13 of them. lol I’m busy with work and AO3 isn’t working properly on my laptop so I may be doubling down on chapters. Like with any other fic that I post, please heed the warnings at the top! With that said, please enjoy! Also, I apologize for the first couple chapters not being interesting, but I promise it gets better next chapter! xx Virge

AO3 || Buy me a Ko-Fi!

Patton felt gay panic overwhelming him to the point that he may faint.

He spent countless hours after he closed up shop, making batches after batches of chocolates, trying to create the perfect array of thirty-two that would satisfy Virgil.

Virgil Nyx. The name sounded so…unique in his mind’s eye. It was different, but Patton liked that it was different. Yet there was also something…dark and strange about it; something that should make the confectioner fearful, but he wasn’t. It seemed cliché and he knew it, but he had become drawn to him from the moment they met.

He looked over the batches that he already made, all cooling on various racks and baking sheets: squares and other various shapes of chocolate, barks and clusters, truffles and cordials; and all of them made with dark chocolate. He didn’t know if Virgil really liked things incredibly bitter (although the moan he let out suggested otherwise), so he put some bittersweet in there to counterbalance it. As a bonus, he even put in a bit of espresso powder because Virgil stated it was his favorite.

When he believed he had a perfect set, he began to decorate them. Glazes, icings and sugars all scattered about in the air, dusting his face, hair, and fingers.

Then, when everything was done up all nice and pretty— like a box of chocolates should be— Patton placed them in the gift box. Most of the ones he sent out were either golden or white, but he also had some of varying colors. For Virgil, he managed to find a black one that was perfect. He places the chocolates in their respective places in the tin before closing the lid. Finally, he pulled out a collection of ribbons that are used for the finishing touches. He looks through the assortment of rainbow spools before pulling out a dark violet one. He cut a large length of it before wrapping it around the box and tying it in a bow.

Patton leaned back and observed his craftsmanship with a grin.

Virgil was going to love this, he knows he will!

…

It was a cold, foggy Sunday night as Patton drove to Virgil’s house. The box of chocolates were nestled comfortably in a cooler sitting in the passenger seat of his car. A gentle downpour of rain pitter-pattered against the glass, becoming a soothing presence amidst the silence.

Neon signs for bars and hotspots light up the cloudy sky; the occasional persons walking about; homeless slouched on curbs with paper bags in hand; and stray cats appearing from alleyways all flew past him along the way, showing him a darker, grittier version of his city.

Slowly, the city transformed into a giant forest that surrounded his car. The air grew colder and the rain came down harder. The smooth asphalt roads turned to bumpy gravel, causing Patton to bounce as he drove. After a few miles, the forest disappeared and the confectioner was greeted with a sight that truly astounded him.

The manor looked to be inspired by either the Victorian or Queen Anne style of architecture. It was at least two or three stories high with incredibly gorgeous details to it: complex rooflines, a tower in the left corner with a steep roof, gables and bays, a richly textured surface of patterned shingles, and applied ornamentations. For Patton, the most notable features were the single-story wrap-around porch, the black balustrades, the lavishly decorated spindle work, and Eastlake ornamentations.

Patton looked up at the manor, then down at the piece of paper he pulled out of his pocket, staring at the address written on it.

613 Rue Morgue.

It— It was the right address, judging by the silver numbers beside the door, yet Patton couldn’t believe someone like Virgil would live here!

He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the cooler to grab the chocolates, the box feeling cold under his fingertips. Laying the box on his lap, he reaches over and retrieves his umbrella from the driver’s side pocket— a pastel blue one with white polka dots— before exiting the car. He walks up the wooden porch steps and rang the doorbell (knocking to the tune of ‘shave and a haircut’ for good measure) before standing back and waiting.

Exactly thirteen minutes later, Patton stood up straighter when the door finally opened. He nearly dropped the box when he saw Virgil’s appearance.

The stormy grey eyes and faded purple fringe looked the same, but it was his clothing that changed. Instead of a purple turtleneck, it was a button-up (with the top buttons and cuffs undone), and his leather pants were that of fancy dress ones. His boots were gone and he was padding around in thick, black wooly socks.

“Patton,” His deep, low voice snapped him out of his gay lovestruck moment. “As fond— and slightly disturbed— as I am by your flattering— and totally not creepy— fawning over me…I would like to eat personalized chocolates and get to know my deliveryman.”

Said deliveryman squeaked in surprise, shaking his head and blushing madly. His panicked and embarrassed eyes met ones that held confusion, awkwardness, and amusement.

“I-‘m— I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to stare like that!”

Virgil waved a passive, nonchalant hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re just lucky that you weren’t a stranger, because if you were, I would’ve glared at you until you fell dead.”

The confectioner’s eyes grew wide and he gulped. Was…Was he supposed to take that seriously?

“Aww, relax,” Virgil snorts, the corner of his lip twitching upward. “I was joking…or was I?”

“I don’t know…are you?”

“Yeah, I am. So chill out, Patton."

Patton nodded, slightly curling up in himself at how gullible he was for falling prey to a joke like that. (Though a part of himself felt…relieved? And he didn’t really know why he did so). He suddenly remembered the reason as to why he came here in the first place.

“This house is so incredible!” He exclaims, looking up at the giant manor. “I didn’t interrupt a fancy party or something, did I?”

“Nope. Just me.”

“Have you always lived here?”

Virgil shrugged casually. “Yeah…been living here for a good while now. Got this place from…a friend of mine, I guess you can say.”

Patton failed to recognize the guarded tone in his voice. “H-Here!” The confectioner shoved the box into Virgil’s arms. “I-I made these for you!”

Blinking, Virgil raised a brow at him. “Did you forget that I made an order, or did you have a different reason for coming to see me?” he asked in a semi-teasing way. He looked down at the box handed to him (or shoved really). Black box with a purple ribbon, just as he ordered. He opens it and sees all thirty-two beautifully decorated pieces of chocolate. “Wow. These looks good. What all are they?”

A proud smile appeared on the confectioner’s face. the wealthy man liked the box; so far so good! He started listing them all, “I put four pieces of eight in there. There are cherry cordials, chocolate squares, clusters with almonds, squares filled with a cinnamon-infused ganache, two kinds of truffles also filled with ganache, rounds made with coffee, and—” He blushed a little and mumbled, “Ch-Chocolate hearts.”

Virgil chuckled. “So it’s basically chocolate, coffee, and whatever ganache is.”

“It’s like thickened chocolate that’s used as a glaze, sauce, or filling,” Patton explains. “It’s great for cakes and treats like this, which is why it’s my favorite! All the chocolate is dark, and I even added some espresso to them!”

“My favorites,” The wealthy man gave him a faint smile, causing Patton to be a lovestruck gay once more. “Thanks.” Patton mumbles out something as he took out the one that had cinnamon-infused ganache inside and popped it into his mouth. He moaned, “Damn. Won’t lie, that’s some real good chocolate you’ve made.”

“Thank you very much!” Patton beamed happily, bouncing up and down on his heels. “That’s a compliment if I ever heard one, in fact, it makes me cocoa for more!”

A huffed groan. “Oh boy. Chocolate puns,” Virgil rolled his eyes. Though he couldn’t but participate in a little bit of joking himself. “Are you trying to be as smooth as your chocolates are? Because you’re not doing a very good job.”

Patton gasped. If his eyes could, they’d be sparkling like a cartoon character’s. “Now there’s no need to be bittersweet about making puns, Virgil!”

My whole aesthetic is about being sarcastic, edgy, and bittersweet, is what Virgil wanted to say, but he didn’t out of not wanting to scare the confectioner away so soon. “Someone’s gotta balance out how sugary you are.”

“Well, if you mousse-t insist!”

Another huffed groan, then Virgil popped a cherry cordial in his mouth. Dark chocolate and cherries were always considered a classic combination, like his depression and anxiety. What?

“I guess I should pay you for delivering me these?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary!” Patton insisted. “Consider it a gift! From me to you!”

Virgil frowned a bit. Then an idea came to mind, causing him to smirk coyly. “You sure? Cause I think I know of a good payment I could give you.”

Patton titled his head in confusion, but that quickly changed when he felt Virgil’s lips press against his own. They were crazy chapped and a little cold, but they slotted perfectly against his own. Following what his heart wanted— because that’s what he does— he happily kissed back, tasting bitter chocolate and espresso.

It only lasted a few seconds (six to be exact, but what was Patton counting), but it felt like an eternity for the confectioner. Suddenly, and very sadly, he felt Virgil pulling away. He opened his eyes (which he didn’t know he closed in the first place) and subconsciously licked his lips, a mad blush appearing on his face.

Virgil hummed and licked his own lips. He pulled out a third piece, this time, a dark chocolate heart. He held it to his bottom lip, not biting into it just yet.

The confectioner gulped. “C-Can I make a confection?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Can you?”

“I-I know it seems silly, but…” He squeezed the handle of his umbrella tightly. “I really, really like you!”

“…What a coincidence,” Virgil smirked wider as he finally bit into the chocolate heart. “I just so happen to like you too.”

Patton felt an excited smile spread itself across his face. Butterflies flew all about his stomach and his heart grew more than three sizes. He couldn’t help but jump a little in excitement.

Virgil moved to the side of the door, giving Patton the faintest glimpse of the inside of his mansion. He nods his head towards the foyer. “So you, uh, wanna come inside?” He asked, the rest of the heart hanging from his mouth. “I could make some coffee or tea, maybe even some hot chocolate if you’re into that instead?”

Despite him wanting to say yes— and he really wanted to— Patton politely shook his head. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he declined. “As much as I want to, I can’t. I have to clean up my store, and since I’ll be staying there a bit longer, I can get everything prepared for tomorrow’s opening.”

This statement caused Virgil to frown. So…it appears as though this little mousey wants to play chase. Well unfortunately for him, this black cat hasn’t lost a chase before, not now or ever; and he certainly won’t lose this one, especially to a cute and gullible person like Patton Hart.

Swallowing the rest of the chocolate, he plastered on a smile that didn’t hide his passive-aggressiveness. “Ah. Gotcha.” He pointed a finger-gun at him. (Though, again like a cat, he was mentally throwing a hissy). “It’s too bad you can’t stay longer,” he closed the box and turned away from Patton. “Really would’ve liked to have known you more…”

“Would you mind if I came back again soon?” Patton asked. He twirled the umbrella in his hands, little droplets of rain flying about. Virgil flinched as some got on his face. “Sorry. I could even bring you another gift box if you want!”

And thus, the cat has gotten the mouse.

“You’d visit again?” Virgil asked with a cheeky grin. “And you bring me more chocolates?” He raised a brow at him. “You do this with all your clients, Mr. Hart?”

“Of course I do!” Patton exclaimed. “And I do! I-I mean, I do treat my clients specially, but not as specially as you— especially since I kinda have a crush on you and—”

“Relax, Patton. Seriously.” Virgil huffed with a slight eye roll. “It’s fine if you wanna visit again, in fact, I want it too. Especially since, y’know, we got a thing for each other.” He winked at him.

Patton blushed and nodded. My goodness gracious Virgil was making him melt faster than chocolate on a double boiler. He twirled his umbrella again. “I-I suppose I should be making the long way home now.” Patton smiled sadly at him. “It was nice to see you again, Virgil! And thank you again for coming into my shop!”

“You’re welcome, Patton.” As the confectioner turned and was about to walk down the porch steps, Virgil had one more trick up his sleeves. “Hang on.” Just as Patton turned back again, he pulled him in for another kiss.

Their lips met having another reunion resulted in that same chocolate and coffee aftertaste from before. The confectioner’s breath hitched and a madder blush reddened his cheeks as Virgil licked his bottom lip, resulting in him opened his mouth slightly.

Suddenly, as quickly as it started, it was broken. Virgil chuckled as he heard Patton let out the quietest, puppy-like whine that he found absolutely precious. He opened his hazy grey eyes to look at darkened blue ones, the corner of his lip tugging upward. “Have a good night, Patton.”

“Y-You too…”

With one last wink, Virgil turned and walked back inside. The heavy, wooden door closing with a gentle click.

For the longest time, Patton stood there gazing at the door, almost like it would morph back into the dark and mysterious young man. What snapped him out of his trance was a loud crack of thunder.

Quickly, he rushed back to his car, but didn’t immediately drive off. He stayed parked for another long while, sitting in the front seat with the harsh rain pounding against the glass.

Finally, his face fell into his hands and he squealed. Louder and much more giddy-sounding than he did when he got his puppy (and he really loved his puppy).

He was definitely in love with Virgil Nyx.

#Sanders Sides #Sanders Sides AU #Patton Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Moxiety #Of Love & Murder

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