#and everyone is apparently moving to val now so

[catboydan]

.

#ok my mum is turning into the MESSIEST bitch #full midlife crisis or smthn (that she brought on herself) #divorcing my stepdad after abusing him for years then calls HIM the abuser #made our lives hell as teenagers to where my sister moved out before graduating high school #completely out of touch with how to treat a human being whether relative friend or stranger tbh #anyway. today she gave a 1-month notice to her workplace and rather and they said actually. just go now #they WALKED HER OUT ON THE SPOT #they just didn’t want her around. apparently everyone is so done with her #and she really thought she was well-liked. no. she is not #like they didn’t fire her. they’re gonna pay her the last month. they just don’t want her around anymore #also she’s dating her ex-only friend’s exboyfriend who apparently sucks ass so. #karma I guess #and you know what? I don’t even feel gleeful. I just feel sad to see a life wasted like that #the person she could be vs the shell she is. #val comes out of hiding

[amateurmasksmith]

You Didn’t Know (Reprise)

(don’t mind me, just got inspired by a shitpost by @onesidedradiostatic (and their Anon) and turned it into angst…)

(also, it looks like @convolutedblasphemy beat me to it - well done btw - but I still wanted to give it a stab!)

Vox (yoinking the proof away): “Gimme that, Alastor, It’s not meant to be seen by you. Let’s move on, everyone, Figure out the best move that should, Improve our chances against the Angels’ threat!”

Alastor teleports behind him and counter-yoinks.

Alastor: “You want me to ignore that? No, not yet.”

Alastor examines the figurine closer, with a morbid fascination.

Lucifer, to Alastor: “It’s not as simple as you think, Not everything’s been spelled in ink.”

Vox lunges at Al angrily, flailing his arms as Alastor easily sidesteps him. Val catches him before he can fall.

Vox: “Leave it, Alastor!”

Valentino: “Careful, Voxy, keep a cool head.”

Vox pushes away from Val, gesturing towards Alastor.

Vox: “No! You never cared, did you?! You left, and it was like you were dead, Al/ /astor! We could’ve just gone our separate ways, but You left me here, with this internal blaze!”

Alastor: “I’m sure you wish it had been so, but there’s a lot that you don’t know!”

Vox: “You left before we could talk it out! Find a way we could still be friendly! But you blew your shot when you dropped off the block, Yeah, I’m so ‘sorry’ for being so petty!”

Alastor pulls Vox into a dance as they sing past each other.

Alastor/Vox: “No more questions to be posed,” / “There’s one question to be posed,” ”I hate you now, case closed” / “Though you are predisposed” “I try to forget that we were forever!” / “Why is this thing worth losing your temper?”

Vox breaks off and walks away, putting distance between them…

Vox: “I made the mistake once, Now I won’t be a chump! Decades of isolation await you,”

Velvette, concerned where this is going: “Vox?”

Vox: “No-one else will think to even date you!”

Alastor: “Wait-”

Vox turns around, realizing what he said.

Vox, who didn’t mean to spill: “Shit.”

Alastor (Aro 404): “What are you saying? Let me get this straight, When you begged me then, Down on your knees…?”

Valentino: “He didn’t know?!”

Velvette: “Whoops! Guess the cat’s out of the bag!

Alastor (through gritted teeth): “Oh, what a reveal!”

Vox: “Wait a sec here, Al, you didn’t know?”

Alastor begins slowly pacing towards Vox.

Alastor: “I thought you were bolder, as our friendship grew older!”

Vox, pained: “No!”

Alastor’s demon form begins to show as he slowly corners Vox.

Alastor: “You have to listen, My life here has just one mission, So it’s lucky I saved you, The anguish it takes to… Do what was required!”

Vox: “To think that I admired you, Al!”

Alastor breaks off, dismissing him with a wave of his hand, and starts walking away.

Alastor: “I don’t need your condescension, It’s not my fault you weren’t direct!”

Vox: “Was our relationship just manipulation? Oh, I was naive to expect you, to care beyond favors you’re repaying!”

Alastor: “Vox, what on earth are you saying? Love is not forever, your programs here are all lies, I’d have thought that seven years would give you enough time! Now I’ll leave you all to handle your foolish little scandal,”

Al gestures to the group, and casually drops the figurine in Lucifer’s hands as he brushes past.

Alastor, to Lucifer: “I’d recommend you stick to sculpting Anatidae.”

Alastor is engulfed by his shadow, and melts into a nearby radio. He emerges at Rosie’s place, ears drooping. The music takes on a softer style.

Alastor: “Rosie, dear, I have a problem.”

Rosie: “For you, Al, I’m all ears! Sit down here!”

Rosie gestures to her couch, on which she sits, and Alastor crumples.

Alastor: “Ugh! Apparently, my old pal Vox, Bought a commission, born from horrid thoughts… I gave him a piece of my mind, he Said ‘we were forever,’ and yet somehow I never…”

Rosie: “Oh. Yes, I see…”

Rosie brings Alastor in for a hug.

Alastor: “Why the fuck / Was I the last to know my old friend had a crush?”

As the music fades out, we see Alastor’s face buried in Rosie’s shoulder, partly obscured… Without a smile.

#onewaybroadcast #aroace alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor

[chaoticace2005]

The list of regrets I totally have and am not just writing because Charlie is making me, Vagina Vaggie is glaring at me, and I want the free rent:

By Angel Dust, 3 time X-X-X award winner.

(Warning, there is some victim blaming in this. The abuse Angel faces from Val is not his fault, but given that I’m writing this from his perspective I figured it would be something he’d add.)

1. Writing this list

2. Verbally complaining about writing this list cause now Vagina wants to stab me.

3. Only taking half my usual hit before starting today.

4. Complaining about not being high enough.

5. Not hiding my drugs better

6. Not having more stashes of drugs

7. Calling TV superior to radio.

8. Not killing that snake before he had a chance to go to the hotel.

9. Not “trying hard enough” at this shitty hotel.

10. Being too close to roof so the CRAZY BITCH COULD THROW ME OFF OF IT.

11. Walking up the stairs with Pentious only to have to go IMMEDIATELY BACK DOWN.

12. Signing my deal with fucking Valentino. Seriously I’m a fucking idiot.

13. Even suggesting the idea that Charlie should come to the studio. She’s just going to get hurt.

14. Mouthing off to Val.

15. Not getting Charlie out of the hotel sooner

16. Being such a pathetic, dick sucking ho who isn’t good at anything beyond sex.

17. Not being able to take all of this.

18. Not acting well enough cause some this bitchass cat is seeing through me.

19. Ever offering that bitchass cat my services.

20. Pushing Husk’s boundaries

21. Not being my true self.

22. Acting for so long I don’t even really know who my true self is

23. Being a dick to Charlie

24. Being a dick to Husk

25. Being a dick to everyone

26. Putting my dick in a vacuum cleaner.

27. Calling Smiles a creepy dommy daddy.

28. Letting Niffty know about some of my more kinky films. She’s getting ideas…

29. Trying to play poker with Husk (and not even strip poker!)

30. Testing if my venom works on myself (it doesn’t and now I have pink bite marks)

31. Leaving what I used to clean my bites out because somehow Alastor found them and is now TEMPORARILY PARALYZED AND I DONT WANT HIM TO KILL ME WHEN HE CAN MOVE AGAIN.

32. Not answering Val’s texts.

33. Wearing boots. Seriously these things hurt sometimes.

34. Having ugly feet so I can’t NOT wear boots.

35. Tracking mud into the hotel

36. Mentioning sex around the Egg Bois because now I have to explain what it is.

37. Describing sex as something their boss “has never had,” it got back to Pentious and I’m scared.

38. Mentioning “Vox” anywhere in Alastor’s vicinity.

39. Agreeing to play Monopoly with Niffty. In general Monopoly sucks but Niffty likes to get knives involved?!?!

40. Getting addicted to drugs.

41. Getting caught in that alleyway by my BITCHASS brother.

42. Not trying harder for Molly.

43. Not saying goodbye.

44. Fucking overdosing.

45. Doing literally fucking nothing with my life and nothing with my death.

46. Taking the easy was out and doing whatever pops told me to

47. Yelling “FUCK” loudly in church that one time

48. Not teaching these people at the hotel how to FUCKING MAKE SPAGHETTI RIGHT?!

49. Getting high with Cherri.

50. Telling Val to “fuck off”

51. Flirting with that one cannibal guy because now they all seem to want to EAT ME (and not in the sexy way)

52. Leaving those pot brownies out. High cannibals, Egg Boiz, and Nifftys are terrifying.

53. Letting myself be named “Angel” because this makes shit too damn confusing plus I think Niffty wants to KILL ME?!

54. Not spending more time with these losers

55. Not opening myself up to Husk sooner.

56. Being too much of a coward to tell him how I feel.

57. Mentioning Pent has two dicks to Cherri cause she won’t stop asking about it.

58. Not doing enough to save Pentious.

59. Not telling him how much he means to me.

60. Trying to lift way more than I should have. Apparently six arms doesn’t mean I’m super strong.

61. Calling Niss a short motherfucker who nobody likes. I’m sorry, I’ll be better (and call him something even worse next time.)

62. Still being too much of a coward to tell Husk how I feel.

63. Flirting with Husk in Italian when he UNDERSTOOD ME THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME?!

64. Getting a room on the same side of the building as Alastor’s because he keeps laughing at 3 in the morning???

65. Kissing Husk in public. Val is mad.

66. Trying to even have a boyfriend with Val around. It’s stupid.

67. Calling yourself stupid for wanting to have a boyfriend.

68. Giving my boyfriend access to this list.

69. No regrets. Only 69. :D (Jesus Christ you’re a child.)

#tw: victim blaming #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #huskerdust #arackniss #Molly #molly hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #stupid hazbin hotel lists #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin husker #angel x husk #angelhusk #tw: valentino

[thesunisatangerine]

porque volví por ti (tú eres mía)

“Are you happy, Alexia? With me?”

“Why are you even–Yes! Yes, I am! What–”

You gently grabbed her face and you placed your forehead against hers. You looked into her wide, pleading eyes, and whispered softly, “Oh, Alexia. Imagine how much happier you’d be being with the right person.”

Alexia shook her head, adamant and defiant, and as she did so tears left her eyes. 

“Please, don’t do this. I love you. Please, I love you, damn it!” She put her hands over yours and squeezed them tight as if you were in danger of vanishing, like you were a spectre that was about to disappear. 

Emotion coiled in the base of your throat, choking you. You couldn’t say those words back to her even if you wanted to, not when you were already weak enough, any more and you would find yourself back in her embrace and you couldn’t allow yourself that relief because this was what needed to be done. Alexia would be so much happier, so much more content without you in the way.

“Alexia–Alexia, listen to me. You can’t see it now and you might end up resenting me but you’ll be happier for this, I know it. Everyone can see that you’re complete when you’re with her. I see it, too. The both of you just work and I’ll be damned to get in the way of something so beautiful.”

“Is this what you want?” Alexia asked and her voice wavered as she did so. Her eyes remained trained on yours, the plea in them as vivid as the red of her lips and the stain of tears on her cheeks.

You bit your lip so hard you were surprised you didn’t taste blood on your tongue. You whispered your answer. “Yes.”

Alexia sniffled, her brows pinched as she closed her eyes but she didn’t say anything. A moment after, she let go of your hands and left hers hanging between her legs, dejected and resigned. She looked so small like this and it hurt–you knew breaking up with her would but you didn’t expect the pain to weigh this much.

“I’m sorry. Thank you for everything.” You closed your eyes as you kissed her forehead and you allowed yourself to linger there for a moment, to savour the last taste of her skin, the last feel of her warmth against your lips. And then you wiped the tears from her cheeks with your thumb, straightened yourself, grabbed your coat from the counter, and you headed out the door.

Training the next morning was a silent affair as if everyone could feel something big went down because not even the staff and the trainers said anything. You were thankful for the space and privacy they were giving you but guilt burnt in you like a torrid brand–the last thing you wanted was to negatively affect the team’s dynamic, especially being close to the start of the Champions League like this.

Your eyes unintentionally wandered to where Alexia was, a few metres ahead with her earphones plugged in as she did her resistance training, a very rare sighting and a general indication that she had a lot of thing on her mind. And when Alexia was like this, everyone knew she needed some breathing room. It was not uncommon, however, to see Val being exempt from this unspoken rule so you weren’t surprised to see her join Alexia.

It also wasn’t a surprise that Alexia let her stay.

As if she sensed your eyes on the both of them, Alexia’s eyes found you. You were trapped in her gaze for a second before you quickly averted yours, standing up and putting away your weights and mat, and you moved to the stationary bikes that were located on the other side of the training room, away from their view. You didn’t even realise you picked the bike next to Mapi until you felt her hand on your shoulder which brought your attention to her. Clear understanding was in her eyes and the sympathy just as apparent. She squeezed your shoulder lightly, gave you a small smile, and then she let go. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat but the feeling remained; it tasted bitter and heavy on your tongue. Not knowing what else to do, you plugged your earphones in and hoped that time would pass quickly enough for this wound to heal. 

wanted to drop this cause the other one is still not close to finishing. just an idea for a possible one shot with reader, alexia, and val (an original character). not yet sure if i will actually make this into an actual fic so lmk if you want it to be continued.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing

[madreemeritus]

A small analysis of Angel Dust's character (tw: SA, abusive relantionships, drug addiction, coping mechanism, also spoilers of the series)

Today is Angel Dust's birthday, he's my favorite Hazbin Hotel character and became one of my fave characters ever recently, he's being my new brainrot so I decided to write about his amazing character. Oh and English isn't my first language so forgive me for any mistake.

Ok now the first thing needed is to recognize Angel's (Anthony) situation. Anthony was born in the 1910s and died in 1947, with 30 years old, he was the son of a mafia leader and a homosexual man that needed to hide and opress his own sexuality, or else he'd be, at best, killed (if not worse). When he arrived Hell, he found to himself a taste of freedom that he could never experience in his life. I'm not sure about how many years he's been in the Val situation because Valentino died in the 1970s, but either way, he signed a soul contract with Valentino and now his soul belongs to him. The worst thing about his situation is that he was much probably in love with Val and was manipulated by him to sign the contract, it's really heartbreaking to think about it.

Although we don't know the exact circumstances that lead Angel to sign the contract (if he knew or not knew he was getting into porn, if Val lied to him, etc), we do know that he didn't expect to have the life he has at the moment. Angel is, in simple words, a sexual slave. Valentino abuses him mentally, physically, emotionally and mainly, sexually. He forces Angel to do uncomfortable, painful things in the studio, perform extra hours without any human condition or even a raise, and also demands sex and affection from him. Angel can't say no, he is coerced and afraid to go against Valentino's wishes. Valentino also uses a disturbing form of emotional abuse, lovebombing Angel after assaulting and abusing him, all to remain his control over Angel. Val tries to isolate Angel from everyone else and bursts in anger once Angel moves to the hotel, after all their deal says Val can do whatever he wants with Angel in the studio, outside of the studio, though, Angel is free. This is one of the reasons why he is desperate to keep Angel around. Which also indicates Val abuses him financially, if most (if not all) the money Angel earsn with HIS work goes to VAL, then Angel is even more vulnerable, powerless and dependent on his abuser. It explains why Angel agreed to live in the Hotel in the first place: he'd have a free room, away from Val, with the MINIMAL of privacy and safety.

Angel Dust, with this amount of abuse and trauma, obviously run into coping mechanism. Even if it's self destructive. Angel is addicted to drugs (his artistic name explains itself), apparently alcohol too, and most important, he masks his own feelings. He acts as Angel Dust, the perfect, unbothered pornstar that is not weak or vulnerable in any situation. Angel Dust is always confident, strong, wanted, and constantly does the only thing he was taught he was of: flirting. He agressively flirts with every men, he offers his own body to almost every men he sees, because if he surrender himself first, then he won't be hurted or coerced... right? Angel Dust hides his true feelings and pretends to not care about anything and anyone but himself. Angel is, most of the times, rude, and don't respect other people's boundaries (after all his own boundaries aren't respected).

Because, if Angel acts this way, he won't be harmed, he won't be hurted, he won't be abandoned. If he is emotionally distant from everyone, once they abandone him, it won't be so painful... right?

Anthony hides his true self as a cope mechanism. And he knows he isn't perfect. He isn't a perfect victim, he has flaws, he does wrong things and make people uncomfortable (specially Husk, the only man that rejects his flirting, which I will talk about later), and mainly, he blames himself for being abused. And this is why he is so afraid to be real and vulnerable, even next to his friends. He thinks he won't be accepted or treated with respect. He spent so many years being told that he is only worth for sex, that he ended up believing this is the true. He spent so many years being treated as a sexual object, that he began to think he really is. He spent so many years being abused, isolated and manipulated, that he is afraid of opening up. He spent so many years being blamed for other people's actions (mainly Valentino), that he believes it's all his fault.

You may argue that he is honest and vulnerable with Cherri Bomb, but that's the point: Cherri is in a similar situation, she had a traumatic experience in the past and has similar self-destructive behaviour. She is a good friend, she sees him as he is and understands him for personal experience. As for Charlie... well, don't get me wrong. I LOVE Charlie. She IS a good person, a good friend and clearly cares about her people more than anything in the world. She wants to help and save people, Angel being one of them. She nearly beated Valentino's ass for seeing him abusing Angel. BUT. Let's be honest: as a very privileged person (princess of hell) among wretched mortal souls, she has no social awareness. I mean, come on. She wrote an anti-drug, pro post-marrital sex play where she casted Angel (a drug addict and a non-married sex worker) as the "crackhead bad guy", and praised only Sir Pentious for doing exactly the same thing Angel did. She wants to help, but she doesn't know how. Angel doesn't feel safe enough to open up. Anyone in the Hotel appeared to be safe and trustworthy, Anthony/Angel was afraid of being judged. He is a victim of SA, gruesome things were done to his body without his consent and he is ashamed of it. His hypersexualization is a way to escape his shame (hypersexualization IS A REAL AND VALID COPING MECHANISM IN REAL LIFE).

It's only in his most vulnerable moment, when he is caught by surprise, that his real feelings appear. When Charlie invades Valentino's studio — putting, in Anthony's eyes, her safety in danger —, the real Anthony tries to protect her from Val. He knows how shitty Val is. A coward, evil, gruesome abuser that has desires to control everyone and everything, even the Princess of Hell herself. We all know Charlie is much more powerful and could easily beat Valentino's ass, but Anthony doesn't care about. He probably doesn't even think too much about it, he just wishes to protect his friend. This is one of the most beautiful character aspects that Anthony has: he cares for his friends, MORE than he fears Val.

For Anthony, it's easier to surrender his body and will to Valentino, anything to calm his whiny ass down and make things less painful. But when it comes to his friends... it's so, so much difficult. He pleads Val to not hurt Charlie. Later in E6-S1, he stands up against Valentino to protect Nifty. Angel pretends to be unbothered and relaxed most of the times in the Hotel, he acts like if he doesn't care, but he DOES. He cares for his friends more than he cares for himself. He puts his friends in the first place. For him, it can seem like nothing important, but it actually tells how caring and kind he actually is. He is protective. He doesn't want ANYONE to experience the same abuse he experiences. Every. Fucking. Day.

Angel's arc, in the first season, is realizing that there ARE people who love him and care for him, DESPITE HIS FLAWS. He is not an object, he is not a worthless sinner, he is a victim, he is a person, he is a FRIEND. Once he realizes that, he starts to be kind to himself, make better choices, set boundaries to himself and respecting other people's people boundaries. And speaking about boundaries...

Huskerdust is simply, aaah holy shit what a perfect dynamic, what a perfect shipp (and when I mean Huskerdust, I mean ONLY the romantic shipp).

Husk really got into Angel's nerves, because he was the only man who rejected his flirts. He didn't only rejected, he pushed Angel away many times and openly said that he could see that Angel was faking. To someone trying to hide his own feelings, afraid of being judged and ashamed of the consequences of his trauma, that probably hurted a lot. Angel was taught that his only worth is based on his physical beauty and if he is sexually desired. Seeing someone, not only rejecting his offers, but also seeing throught the act he puts on, must have terrified and hurted Angel in a way he never expected to feel. He wasn't upset because "Husk rejected him", he was feeling humiliated and confused because, for the first time in years, someone wanted to meet the real Anthony. Angel was gaslighted to think that he is only worth for sex, for being used.

So. "What do you mean Husk doesn't want to use me? He must hate me and I'm worthless!". It's obvious that he would have this reaction. During his breakdown after Husk called him "fake", he is saying those words to himself. He is reaffirming what he was told he was worth for: for being used. People would kill to have Angel in their beds, people would kill to afford Angel's services, people would kill to use Angel. "— Do you know how much I'm worth?" in fact, Angel himself doesn't know how much he is worth.

Husk was the person Angel NEEDED. He may have been harsh on him in some occasions, but Husk CARES for Angel. He is grumpy and won't say it out loud, but he does care. He protects Angel from being drugged and abused in a bar even after their argument. He offers to listen, he relates to Angel's situation and doesn't judge him. Angel NEEDED to have the reality shock throught Husk's words: no one cares if he's hot, famous, if he's a whore, if he has flaws, literally no one cares. His friends love him the way he IS. Husk wanted Angel to be truthful, that's all. Husk never forced any physical contact, in fact, he offers his hand first and waits until Angel accepts it — besides, his physical affection isn't based on sex or violence. Notice how Husk never actually said Angel's work is garbage or that he is a bad actor, because this would be a lie. Husk says the material that is given to Angel is garbage. After all, Angel's movies are written and directed by Valentino (if i'm not mistaken, one of his asshole clients Travis also help Val with the script), of course it's garbage. Husk sees that the situation Angel is in, is garbage. Is horrible. Angel felt offended at first because, again, he thought his worth was based on Val's bullshit, but NO. Angel, Anthony, is not Val's bullshit, he is absolutely different.

Husk sees him as a real person. After Angel overstepped boundaries many times, Husk could easily tell him to fuck off, let him be drugged and raped without giving a damn, mocking his trauma, which would be a total asshole attitude but no. Husk, even being mad at Angel, listens to him with an opened heart. This is what Angel needed. He needs love and affection from someone that sees him as he is, and this person is Husk. Their bonding is so sweet in the next episodes, and I'm really excited to see how their slow-burn is going to happen in next seasons.

"Loser, Baby" is such an amazing song, it's so cute and adorable and it's exactly the type of comfort that Angel needed. Husk is also on a leash. He sold his soul to Alastor, he is constantly mistreated and forced to do things he doesn't want to do by this powerful overlord, and if Husk says no, he might lose his life. He knows exactly how Angel is feeling. He doesn't have a solution for their problems, he can't do anything against neither Valentino nor Alastor, but what he can do is helping Angel. Comforting him, listening to him and offering him companion. Angel is living a horrible situation, but he ISN'T ALONE. Yes, Angel is a cocked-up dick sucking hoe, and IT'S OKAY.

Now listen: "Addict" is Angel's song that denies his suffering. He pretends to "don't give a damn" and to be fine with the life he's living. "Poison" is the realization that he needs help, he is being abused and is slowly destroying himself with his addictions. He aknowledges his suffering, but he is still hopeless. "Loser, Baby" is Angel letting hope in. He knows he's, well, a loser, a broken person that lives a terrible, suffered life, but he is NOT alone. He is loved, despite his flaws, because his friends aknowledge his qualities and worth, him as a person. Anthony, not Angel Dust.

What an amazingly well-written character, fuck my life. I love him so much 😭

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #angel dust #happy birthday angel dust #hazbin hotel anthony #huskerdust #hazbin hotel valentino

[coweye]

Commitment Issues - Part 8

Pairing: Benjamin Miller x Reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

AN: So I lied - I'm so sorry for the wait! Recently, writing hasn't come as easy to me and although it's almost a year late I hope you enjoy, this isn't the final chapter - I lied twice.

➢ fic masterpost

PREVIOUS PART

28th April 2022 - 37 weeks pregnant

Life playing host to the parasite that was soon to be your daughter had only gotten worse. Hard to believe, I know.

The gift that kept on giving made sure that you’d suddenly without any warning whatsoever have the overwhelming urge to vomit. 

There was no rhyme or reason to her neat new little party trick but at any given moment your stomach said nope and you bought up whatever you happened to have eaten or as the case may be; be eating at the time. 

Honestly, you weren’t a negative person by nature, but these agonizing eight months had taken it out of you. 

Hell, you were in the process of drafting an eviction notice if this kid didn’t get out of you in the next two weeks. 

Long story short, between this and the Benny situation you were not exactly the best of company, right now. 

The boys and Val had all learnt this early on and for the past eight days, you had given up all pretense of a brave face, now you were bleeding and letting everyone who would listen know about it.

When Santiago, who had decided to stay in town until the birth of your baby, suggested a stroll around the mall, you had fixed him with the stare that would have had a lesser man running back to Colombia with his tail between his legs. Until, of course, he had sweetened the deal with fried chicken, his treat and coincidentally the only meal that you had yet to regurgitate. 

So, here you found yourself with Santiago and William and a six piece bucket to yourself.

The change in company was a welcome distraction from dwelling on your non-existent love life at home with the love of your life. 

After the thorn in your side that was Jasmine, reared her ugly head at the baby shower, you had pulled back into your protective bubble of distant and cold. 

Benny, though confused about the message, received it loud and clear as he returned to the swing to find you inside and talking incredibly heatedly to Valerie. In the eight days that followed, he yet to confront you about it. Apparently old habits died hard.. 

The camaraderie that had come hand in hand with your truce had dissolved. You weren’t actively unpleasant, but you didn’t melt into his side, or nap on the couch with him anymore. 

You had established boundaries, resolving yourself to the simple philosophy of anything you wouldn’t do with Frankie, you wouldn’t do with Ben. 

It was simple… well kind of, every one of your moves was carefully calculated and exhausting.

For example, lying on the couch watching a movie with a leg rub? Acceptable. 

Frankie would do that for your swollen ankle joint, hell, he had done.

However, lying on the couch with his body sandwiched against yours as you fall asleep, the hardness of him pressed into your backside; well… that was quite clearly a no, but I digress! 

Boundaries were established and what almost was, had been completely and totally healthily avoided at all costs, creating the exact tenuous home environment you'd spent so long trying to avoid. 

So, here you found yourself in the food court, slamming some fried chicken trying desperately to forget your woes.

“She’s too clingy…” Santi huffed in between a bite of his burger, talking mostly to Will as you had yet to peak up from behind your bucket. 

“Maybe she just likes you and wants to spend time with you, god forbid someone shows interest.” You grunted irritably between bites, looking for a fight. 

Both men turned to you in surprise, the whites of their eyes visible as they feared your outburst. 

Santiago strategically paused as he searched for the right words before he began to speak again. 

“You’re right … Maybe I’m too harsh.” Pope placated as he fixed you with a look of reproach, however, that only served to enrage you further. 

He watched for your reaction as if you were an angry bear or a child throwing a tantrum. Truth be told, you weren’t strictly unlike either of those things at that precise moment. 

Your brows narrowed, ready to unload and tell him all the reasons he was a dick before a cramping pain in your bloated abdomen overwhelmed you. Your eyes clenched shut as you breathed heavily through your nose, your ringed fingers gripped at the circular table in pain. 

It was impossible for you to judge how long went by before the pain finally passed. 

You took a further second or two to even your breathing before you resumed eating, succinctly dropping the subject that had injected fire into your veins merely moments before. 

With a fry in your mouth, you glanced up to find both men watching you. 

“What the fuck?”

“Are you okay?” They questioned in unison. 

A moment passed as you swallowed your mouthful before you concisely answered your comrades. “I’m pretty sure I’m going into labor.” 

“And … you don’t think we should be actively doing something about that?” Santiago pressed, looking as if he was ready to bolt.

“Labor can take hours and I won't be able to eat once it gets going…” You shrug, picking up another piece of chicken. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Pope breathed, eyes wide before he palmed in his eye sockets in frustration, attempting to rub the stress you induced away.

Will had dragged his chair to your side, his eyes focused on his watch.

“Don’t worry so much… the book said until they're ten minutes apart … there’s no point going …  to the hospital!” You explain in between bites of greasy chicken. 

Your words do little to quell their panic as both men look as if they're ready to pull their hair out with worry. 

“I’ll ring Ben.” Santi groaned as he stood up and reached into his jacket pocket before fishing out his phone. He turned dramatically with a finger pointed in your general direction. “You get her to hurry up - I swear to god, Y/N. If you’re eating when I get back, pregnant or not, I’ll drag you to that car. You’re not having your baby in the damn food court… estúpida, obstinada…” The man continued grunting curses at your expenses as he stalked off for somewhere quiet with cell reception to call the father of your child.

The silence that extended all of three minutes was too good to be true as Will watched your face as you ate for any sign of distress. 

“Whilst giving Pope a coronary is always a good time… don’t you think we should go and get your bag and meet Ben?” Will’s voice was soft, the kind of soothing tone you’d seen him use to talk down shell shocked soldiers - it was both unassuming and laced with copious amounts of compassion. 

You’d be damned if it didn’t just piss you right off. 

With a quick shake of your head, you dropped the empty bone into the bucket with the rest of the carcasses and took a long sip of your drink. 

“I’m good here … I can meet you guys there if you like?”

The pinch in his brow was quite simply incredulous, his concern was quickly outweighing his patience. 

“If you think I’m leaving you both here, you’re insane.”

Chewing on the straw of your drink; your eyes locked with his. They were brimming with a concoction of confusion and concern, which if the clench in his jaw was anything to go by, was slowly morphing into exasperation at your lack of compliance. 

“I … just need some time.”

“Y/N. All you’ve spoken about for the past week is how you want this to be over, wish granted - she’s coming and she’s coming now.”

“That’s what he said…” You uttered half-heartedly under your breath as you broke eye contact, no longer able to face his look of bewilderment. 

On the red tray in front of you was a lemon scented wet wipe hidden among napkins and sauces, you tore open the former and gratuitously began scrubbing the grease off of your hands, actively ignoring the perplexed stare of one of your closest friends. 

“Y/N, we need to get moving… will you just stop and listen?” Will snapped finally as he grabbed the wipe from your grip as you passed over your digits for the third time. 

Your own patience had reached its end as his hand gripped your elbow, his intention to make good on Santiago’s threat and drag you out, clear and present in your mind.

The devil in question was making his way back to your table, all quick strides as he dodged the food courts clientele.

You wrenched your arm from his grip huffing in annoyance at the well meaning Miller. 

“Fine. Let's go and get my bag, maybe we can grab an iced tea on the way to the car…”

Will nodded but you knew the mother hen would never allow a diversion from the mission at hand. 

All was going well. 

You were compliant as you strode through the mall, both men flanking you like a high priority asset as you clambered into Santi’s rental truck.

Hell, you were goddamn amenable as you unlocked your front door and grabbed the hospital duffel bag from the cubby under the stairs. 

However, your cooperation waned somewhat when heading to the maternity ward as  the guys tried to wheel your chair past the hospital's Starbucks. 

Your palm, lightening fast, caught the break on the chair causing it to veer left right into Santiago’s shins.

“Ice Tea!”

“You’ve got a baby about to shoot out of your hoo-hah and you're stopping for tea?!” Santi huffed incredulously as he rubbed his shin.

“My contractions are 25 minutes apart, when they’re 15, I’ll consider joining the panicking cry baby club.” 

“Panicking baby- huh!” Santi huffed rubbing his forehead. “You are not well, Y/N/N! You’re having a baby - Go and have it and then I’ll bathe you in fucking tea!” 

“I’ll come back down and grab you one-” Will placated before Santi bent to remove the break on the chair, allowing Will to move all of two steps, before you slammed it back on, the rubber tyres screeched against the tile floor of the hospital lobby. 

“Tea. First.” You huffed much like a troublesome child. 

This time it was Will who leaned down to remove the break, having clearly decided you weren’t in your right mind.

So, you did the only thing you could; you threw your baby bag off of your lap. 

“Y/N, stop being a goddamn child!” Will huffed, you had clearly pushed him to the edge, not that it had been particularly hard. 

Ignoring him, you began to stand. They both watched on in horror as you slowly ambled your way to the end of the queue. 

Leaning against the drinks fridge, you sighed. 

Your spine was aching something awful. The poor timing of this kid resumed as a contraction wracked your body, sharper than the others, it felt longer but you had no way to be sure. 

Will was at your side the second it overcame your body.

“Twenty minutes apart, please, Y/N. Come on.”

When finally the pain dissipated, your aching back remained. You weren’t proud of the weight you were placing on Will but the floor was the only other option. 

“y/n?! … Y/N!” You heard Benny hollar before you saw him, his eyes were wild with panic as he rushed to your side. He patted his brother on the shoulder, before taking his place. “Baby, what are you doing? You need to get into bed.”

“I want… my … tea.” You huffed, breathing not yet evening out. 

“Fine, we get the tea and we go straight up. How far apart are they?”

“Twen-”

The gush of amniotic fluid leaving your body cut the older Miller off, soaking through your jeans and unfortunately onto Benny’s shoes.

“You just pissed, she just pissed!” Santi cried in disbelief, his hands an almost permanent fixture in his disheveled curls at this point. It was hard to believe this man was a pressure player.

“It's not piss, it's her waters. We need to go, I’m sorry baby, you can have all the ice tea you want when it's safe for you both.” He bent down and caught your sodden legs, picking you up in one sweep. 

If you weren’t currently covered in amniotic fluid, that story book firefighter carry would have set your loins ablaze. 

Who were you kidding? 

You were absolutely drenched in amniotic fluid and your loins were practically smoking. 

Between writhing in pain as your uterus contracted to eject a literal watermelon and lusting over your baby daddy who you had spent the last eight days practically snarling at every time he dared advance, the journey to your delivery suite had been all but a blur. 

Somehow all three men surrounded you, having coerced their way through the midwifery staff with their nefarious charm. 

“How ya’ doing champ?” Santi questioned as you huffed on the oxygen inhaler handed to you by your midwife. A thumbs up was all you could offer as you groaned through the contractions that were now give or take five minutes apart. 

“How about we use a bit of gravity?” The woman in control of the drugs questioned. A suggestion you were only more than happy to try.

Following her instructions and with minor assistance from Ben you were now on all fours, frantically inhaling the gas and air. 

“We’re going to need to clear the room, anyone who isn’t the father needs to leave.” 

You were so far gone, you didn’t care if they saw the business end of your cervix. All you knew was uncontrollable pain that wracked your body every five minutes like a sadistic egg timer. 

Ben wiped at your forehead with a damp towel as tears escaped. 

“You can do this, baby.”

“UGNGH.. It feels like I’m shitting a knife!” You cried as another contraction wracked your body. 

“Not long now, gorgeous. Then we’ll have our baby.”

“I’m not ready.” You cried burying your face in the reclined back of the bed. You couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“You are-”

“No. We’re not ready. Things were … supposed to be fixed… I promised her.”

“Wha-”

“I love you, you stupid fucking idiot. I have done for like ten years…  loved you from the second I heard your tone deaf ass singing that … crappy hick song on base. Ungh… And everything is so broken because I don’t want you … to just stay for the Bean, I want to be with you … because you want to be with me.” You cried, tears wracking your body as uncontrollably as the contractions.

“It’s all broken… I promised her and I fucked it all up. You … and Jaz can just live happily ever-” You cut yourself off with a low wail as another contraction wracked your body. It seemed to knock Benny out of his stupor as his hand rubbed your lower back.

It was a moment before you leveled out and remembered you were divulging your innermost thoughts but a moment ago, though you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

Bigger fish to fry, and all that.

“I love you. Even if you are the goddamn most stubborn fuckin’ idiot I’ve ever met. You're the mama of my baby, yeah. It scares the crap outta me. Loving you. Damn near spent three months thinking up all the reasons we couldn’t be together cause it scared me so bad.” He huffed, stroking your hair. He helped you reposition on your back, as you breathed in another wave of oxygen. “I love you, Y/N. - I don’t do this. I don’t do relationships … because this feeling in my stomach when I think of you is fuckin awful. Sure I get the tingles when you smile at me or stroke my arm. But ninety-nine percent of the time, fucking nightmare, I worry if you’re happy, if you’ve eaten and now we’re adding an whole ass entire other person into this fucking clown show.”

“Gee… thanks.” You huffed in between breaths of gas and air. 

Ben chuckled as he pushed the sweat sodden hair back from your brow. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against yours, the kiss was brief and nowhere near what was needed but it was all you could manage. 

It was enough, you thought at that moment.

The promise, that everything wasn’t lost, there was hope ahead, it carried you through.

@sixshooter665 @queenie-b- @rambling-in-purple @anaaaispunk @miraclesabound @kravitzwhorehore @ahsokathearcher @xoxabs88xox @heresathreebee @psychadelichue @marauderskeeper @tanzthompsonn @mermaidxatxheart

#benny miller fic #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x y/n #benny miller x reader #ben miller x reader #garret hedlund #triple frontier fic #triple froniter #Benny Miller #Benjamin Miller #Ben Miller #triple frontier #triple frontier au #william ironhead miller #francisco catfish morales #santiago garcia #benjamin miller #oscar isaac #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund #pedro pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #Commitment Issues

[alice-after-dark]

This may end up as a fic but frankly I just wanted to babble about this idea I had.

Like post-angel war, things at the hotel are happening but Alastor is in a foul mood and actually ends up snapping at Niffty when she's just...doing her usual Niffty things. This leads to her bursting into tears and running out of the hotel because Alastor has NEVER yelled at her before.

Cue 2 hours later, no one has been able to find her or reach her and Alastor hasn't moved from the couch and no one is daring to try and approach him right now. And just as they're all trying to figure out what to do, the lights start flickering like mad, the TV goes nuts, and everyone's phones are going crazy and all the devices in the area just ring out with

"A L A S T O R"

Charlie and Vaggie just barely manage to open the doors in time to avoid Vox breaking them down in his rage as he just storms straight into the hotel, face glitching and with so much electricity crackling around him that he's leaving scorch marks in the floor.

Naturally, he makes a beeline for Alastor, who hasn't so much as moved.

"HEY, ASSHOLE! WANT TO EXPLAIN WHY I HAVE HAD A BAWLING NIFFTY IN MY OFFICE FOR THE PAST TWO HOURS AND THE ONLY THING I HAVE MANAGED TO GET OUT OF HER IS THAT APPARENTLY YOU FUCKING HATE HER NOW?!"

And everyone is literally huddled in a corner, ready for a show down, and Alastor just...sighs.

"I may have...lost my temper at the little dear."

"You? Lost your temper? At Niffty?! What the fuck did she do?! You barely even scolded her when she tried to use your microphone as a toilet brush!"

They go back and forth for a bit until Vox tells him that he's not leaving the hotel until Alastor comes with him to the V Tower and makes it right with Niffty.

"A moment...she's at your tower? Where that moth is?"

"Oh don't start. For your information, Velvette is with her and I banned Val from the tower until this shit is resolved and he wasn't exactly mad about it. Something about her ripping out his neck fluff for her collection..."

Long post short, they go to Vox's office and Alastor makes up with Niffty and somehow they walk away from this with a playdate between Niffty and Vark for next week.

And no one died!

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin niffty #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox hazbin hotel #vox the tv demon #alice rambles #radiostatic

[katyspersonal]

Okay so, this evening I said that I am not going to bed until I make a progress in Elden Ring because I've abandoned the quest to finally beat it

.....it is 5 AM now 🙃 fhghfhh

Okay, but I actually went SOMEwhere? I let Melina burn herself (oof..), met Maliketh (Val warned me to not kill him just yet), went all the way down to Erdtree, finished Milicent's quest and met Malenia (even get to her 2nd phase xd) So yeah, night well spent! Three things though:

1) I had no, I mean NO fucking CLUE at ALL that Gowry apparently was something like Shabriri; the guy that transcended the bounds of having a body and now switches 'vessels', and has no balls capacity to "fuckin do it yourself then, if you're so darn smart" about the power they preach, but does try to pitch a Lord/God for it in someone else. Incredible. I want to thank everyone who never talked about Gowry, because I appreciated the plot twist :')

2) The flower before we find Malenia is confusing, because, yeah, the clothes set found near it is the same as the one five sisters wear.. I am more leaning towards the idea that there was another person like Milicent that bloomed 🤔

3) I kind of expected a bit... worse, from her fight? Honestly, that slashing swords attack (Waterfall Dance, if I am not mistaken?) could have lasted just a bit less long, but I think otherwise she is manageable? I tried a few things and figured to keep her at enough distance to reliably attack with Starcaller Cry (Radahn's swords), since it will also often throw her off her feet, and for the second stage I summon a spirit ash for distraction and start spamming glintstone spells and pray she doesn't notice me gfhhhfjh Basically, it depends on my luck whether she will slash in stage 1 or not and on my ability to react at her moves fast enough. Can't say whether strength+int built is simply good or I am too tired for gamer rage though 🤔

But yeah, hopefully I will get through this battle in the next episode of fucking around and finding out xd

#gameplay log #also during fighting Malenia I kept forgetting BASIC buttons commands lol #which has nothing to do with it being late night because I never otherwise have this issue #but like.... suddenly i struggled to remember how to roll or attack or switch skills #many times #basically I got so mesmerized I forgot how to game for first minutes in gfhgjggfd #no idea what'd happen to me had I not been spoilered every milisecond about her lol #still I at least got gowry plot twist lol!!!! #also guess what? come on guess what #RIGHT I have work tomorrow..... well TODAY #🤡 #i really should sleep lol

[huntsvillegossip]

Happy New Year Lovelies!

Well, happier for some than for others, it seems. Eagan Connolly is raising quite the fuss about the disappearance of someone named Will Monroe—details are light on who exactly Will is but apparently he's known to some as a local prostitute. If you see her hobbling around, maybe keep a wide berth, since they’ve been heard muttering to themselves in public. If it was something worth worrying about, the police or Mayor Nat herself would have informed us, of course.

We have multiple witnesses having seen what looked like a very upset Christopher Winters and a very concerned Jim Dunford in town the other day. They were arguing about what sounded like a cheeky New Years Eve kiss that they shared. Jim seemed to be trying to placate Christopher, who was not having it, shoving the man away and stalking off. No news yet as to whether Emma Dunford is aware of this. For all we know, this might be her way of having her cake and eating it too. Christopher and Emma are also expecting a child, which begs the question, is now really the time to try something new?

Speaking of their upcoming adoption, the baby’s birth mother has also been on her own romantic adventure. Josie Reigh and Gabriel Westfall are official, at least if the people overhearing her referring to him as her boyfriend are to be believed. The two seem to be quite happy with each other. Alas, not everyone seems to be as over the moon as they are. Nico Garcia stills seems hung up over Miss Reigh, which is no surprise, since he always was the more sensitive brother. He has repeatedly been seen intoxicated at the Sasquatch and was even heard propositioning one of their bartenders. One lucky contender who took him up on the offer is Jessica Sinclair. That girl's taste has always been questionable—but perhaps this is the one who will break her streak of heartbreak?

The younger Garcia brother isn't the only one moping and drinking his sorrows away at the bar. Theodore Collins has become the latest member of the lonely hearts club. Many have remarked he's been overly temperamental at work with some adding in that he and Kirby have officially called it quits. However, seems they're both quick to move on. Theodore was spotted hitting on Morgan Vovk, who took him home "as a friend"—you can take that as you will. Meanwhile, Kirby has been seen multiple times leaving the drive-in with Edward Langston. Now, sonsidering he should be focused on helping raise his goddaughter, you would think he'd reconsider his priorities. Kirby is fun but they're hardly the person you'd want around when you're trying to be responsible.

That's all for now, my lovelies. Remember: drink and flirt responsibly! You never know who's watching.

Love, Auntie G

“Is it just me, or do the old folks at the retirement home seem happier lately?  Is it just because of that new doctor working there or what?” - Anon (37M)

“So, I hear there’s an angry bounty hunter in town, and word on the street is he’s after a big score. Guess it makes sense that he seems to have joined Val Moreno’s harem. He seems like her type. Good luck and godspeed to Connor Hastings, I suppose.” - Hopeful Future Harem Member

“It appears like Duck Romero has been lassoed by Claire Forbes and is officially off the market. I saw the two of them on what appeared to be a date after New Years looking mighty cozy. Third time’s the charm, folks!” - Town Bird Watcher

“Declan Sullivan seems to be sowing his wild oats, as he was seen kissing Peyton Wilson soon after a love confession to him by Artemis Hayes was overheard at a construction site. Never seen a boy high tail it out of a conversation so fast. Hey, I'm willing to be her shoulder to cry on any day.” - Bob the Builder

"You'd be surprised how much shit gets talked about at the construction sites. You know that circus guy? Mercy Wainwright? Might've overheard him bitching about not getting to see his kid. That he might actually try to get custody of 'em. Not sure how the baby mama, Josie Reigh, gonna feel about that one." - The 4th Property Brother

“Yeah, so I was having a drink at the Sasquatch when Hope McGillivray threw a drink in Floyd Blackward’s face. Guess he made a pass at her but you can’t blame a guy for trying. Dude’s still stuck in second place it looks like.” - Day Drinker

“Although Halley MacGillivray and Saffron Aubert are now officially dating, Halley has been seen hanging out with Felix Berkowitz, Saffron's ex-fiancé. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. Loyalty seems to be a concept that family struggles with.” - Anon (22F)

"Hey, so I don't know if it was the eggnog at the party or what. But Edgar Wayne had a full meltdown at his own party. Looks like it was cause of Beverly Torrance, she went skinny dipping in this freezing ass weather with Elijah Atkins. I thought the rangers were suppose to help out folks not nearly kill 'em." - Eggnog Lover

#eagan connolly #will monroe #christopher winters #jim dunford #emma dunford #josie reigh #gabriel westfall #nico garcia #jessica sinclair #theodore collins #kirby #morgan vovk #edward langston #raphael knightley #valeria moreno #connor hastings #mallard romero #claire forbes #declan sullivan #peyton wilson #artemis hayes #mercy wainwright #hope macgillivray #floyd blackward #halley macgillivray #saffron aubert #felix berkowitz #edgar wayne #beverly torrance #elijah atkins

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Terra Darling ❤️🌹❤️

For the Drunk Drabbles vol.2, my request is 2 "You do have a stupid face".

Have fun & don't drink too much!!!

Kith kith 😘

Hope you like it, Val 💜 Mittens Characters: Levi x Hange fluff Word Count: 598 words

The supermarket aisle was lined with uniform shelves of plastic bottles, each emblazoned with eye-catching brand names. Levi rose out of his crouch, standing to check the contents of a particularly pricey washing detergent in his hand. Satisfied, he rounded the corner, passing milk cartons and tubs of butter as he approached Hange. The pair had agreed to meet in the chilled foods section - only Levi’s appearance had apparently caught her off guard. He watched her, curious, as she cradled their shopping basket and smiled down into its contents. As Levi drew closer, Hange’s head jerked up. There was a flicker of something - panic - before she raised her eyebrows in recognition. Hange buried whatever she had been holding under the other items in the basket. 

“Oi.” Levi brandished the detergent bottle at her. “What’s with that face?”

“This face?” she returned, pointing to herself in mock surprise, “I assumed you didn’t mind it?”

Under the store’s fluorescent lighting Hange’s cheeks glowed; eyes overbright behind her glasses.

“So what if I don’t?” Levi agreed with a wry half-smile. He motioned to place the bottle amongst their other purchases when Hange’s hand came down protectively over the basket. 

“See, you do have a stupid face!” Levi was studying her expression rather than the wedge of cheese that Hange was using to cover the items beneath it.

“Well, you have stupid-” Hange floundered, the flush upon her skin deepening, “-amounts of that stuff at home already! What, are you doing laundry for everyone in our building now?”

“Quit dodging the question,” Levi snapped, “what’s going on?”

Hange shifted her weight and glanced about herself as though anticipating some unforeseen interruption. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she plucked a clear, plastic packet from underneath the cheese wedge. It took Levi a moment to realise that the white cotton pieces inside it were, in fact, a row of tiny mittens.

“I picked them up as a gift for Miche and Nanaba, y’know.” Hange looked about herself once more as though expecting both friends to emerge jubilantly at this revelation. “Normally I couldn’t be less interested in baby clothes, but… consider the size and scale!”

With that, Hange grabbed Levi's wrist and forced his hand beside the bag.

“Look, Levi. They’re so small… each one is only the size of an adult thumb. I never appreciated how tiny these were… until now.” 

Levi’s eyes moved from his own hand, which was still forcibly suspended in the air, to Hange’s look of wonder. There was an eager glint in her eye; a sudden spark of desire which threatened to catch. It took Levi a moment to master a surge of panic. But his expression scarcely betrayed the shift from bewilderment to fear to uncertainty; the myriad of minute changes barely perceptible. All the while he watched Hange’s ridiculous smile; the mittens nestled in her open palm. Then quite simply, with his eyes on hers and in a tone of perfect calm, he spoke.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Hange repeated wildly.

“Okay,” Levi said with gravity. Hange looked as though she had not quite heard him. Her fingers fumbled on the packaging. The packet of mittens fell into the basket.

“Are we seriously having that conversation here, in the dairy aisle?”

“Where else do people decide these things?” Levi’s small grin had returned. Suddenly, irrepressibly, his features were mirrored in Hange’s expression.

“Guess here’s as good a place as any…”

They regarded one another as two criminals embarking upon a secret heist.

At that moment, an ear-splitting wail echoed from the next aisle, drowning out the pacifying tones of the child’s mother. Hange’s eyes widened in horror.

“Wanna head back before you change your mind?”

“Please!” Hange dropped the shopping basket on the floor and kicked it beneath the shelf of milk cartons. “Let’s go straight home, Levi! I’ll get Nanaba a voucher or something for the baby!” (Asks are open again for prompts! :))

#writing asks #levihan #levi x hange #levi ackeman #hange zoe #aot fluff #youre ackermine #I loved writing this one #I've been feeling so snotty and crappy that I needed some fluff #my writing

[omgellendean]

All the emojis, please! For Jon Snow!

Thank you! :3

🐅 - Characterization: character habits, personality, etc.

Before he thought about joining the Night's Watch, Jon had really intense teenage angst over running out of time to reach greatness. You know, "Barristan the Bold got his nickname by thirteen! The Kingslayer was knighted at fifteen, and I still lose to Robb when we train together!! At my age, The Young Dragon was already conquering Dorn!!!" kind of thoughts, followed by morose confidence that after eighteen, all chances to become a hero are over.

🦄 - Characters' physical appearance.

I strongly believe that Jon is short. Not even average height like Ned: if they met again when Jon is all grown up, Jon still would be shorter. And when they finally meet with Sansa, she's also going to be a bit taller :3

💖 - Romantic relationships or ships.

Jon/Val is going to be endgame, much to everyone's frustration, because Martin can't be assed to flesh Val out further than "cool and sexy warrior lady".

Lol, I mean, I think it's pretty clear by now that Jon and Dany (and possibly Tyrion) will become a thing at some point and there's going to be a lot of messy feelings on all sides. And while I doubt Dany's storyline will be the same *insert complicated headcanon here*, I think Jon's series ending got some of the main beats right. Basically, I think he will survive the final battle and feel like he outlived his propose, break up with/betray Dany in some non-stabby way, get disconnected from the society and move beyond the (destroyed forever, tyvm) Wall to that tower he and Ygritte talked about to mope in peace, get rare visits from the family and surviving friends and have casual sex with Val.

💛 - Familial relationships.

Growing up, he and Robb were crazy competitive over everything, from who learns Ned's bannermen's sigils faster (Robb) to who can hold their breath underwater the longest (actually Theon, but he doesn't count because he's older, so Jon). But while for Robb it's always been in good fun, Jon really needed to win every single time and had to learn not to get upset at least outwardly.

🕊️ - Platonic relationships (friends, enemies, etc).

This one is heavily affected by the show, and I recognise this. Still, I maintain that, while they can't stand each other, Jon and Thorne recognise that they both are actually competent people, of which there's a real shortage on the Wall. So if Thorne returns from his raid while Jon is dead, he's going to be really pissed about his assassination. He's going to be even more pissed when Jon comes back to life.

🗡️ - Fighting styles/combat.

While Jon is outstanding at sword fighting by the Watch's current standard, he still has a lot to learn and is not a legendary fighter.

✨ - Worldbuilding or background story elements.

Jon was really fascinated with Luwin's telescope (called Myrish eye here, apparently) and would constantly bother him to get to look through it. He had to stop himself from asking the same from Aemon, when he first arrived at the Wall.

🍁 - Physical locations, flora & fauna.

Jon can easily withstand cold and actually loves snow and winter, but can't bear hot weather. If this boy ever gets to the Reach, not to mention Dorn, he's getting cooked immediately.

#answered #rainhalydia #headcanons #speculations #asoiaf #jon snow #my post #ask game

[sweetsickheart]

hi val it says "ask me about my fish"

I want to know about your fish 👍👍👍

YESSSS!!!!!! okie so i need to start off my saying that i have been growing my fish collection for years and thats why i have so many im not like mega rich. also my dad pays for some of them and visits them all the time.

1st tank:

• two big oscars (tiger and leche) who ive had for years and im pretty sure theyre immortal. absolute power couple, theyve had so many babies and i had to sell them all.

• some rando snails that just appeared one day and i feel bad killing them

• nothing else because the oscars are codependent little bitches and attack other fish

2nd tank:

• a school of angle fish. there's 7-13 any given time and right now its at 11

• a red-tailed dollar fish who is silly and stares at me all day

• lots of cool rocks that my mom built for the tank with her epic pottery skills

3rd tank:

• average person's "first tank" set up. bright colored rocks, smallish tank, fake plants, etc

• beta fish. one male and one female because the males WILL murder each other

• a singular minnow i found banked in the sand on a stream next to my house and took home, im suprised the male beta hasnt tried to kill him

4th tank:

• SO many mollies. if they have an uprising they could honest to god kill me. it took so long to move them to a bigger tank because there were just too many

• i dont kill/sell them because they're my babies and also i have a big enough tank for them all to be healthy in

5th tank:

• sickbay tank. desolate besides the most expensive and correct thermometer i could find, some comfortable sand, and four different types of river plants in each corner for the sick fish to hide in

• currently has a angel fish with god knows what diseases staring at me.

• i need to clean this tank after that fish is out so he doesnt spread his sickness to the other sick fish who will come in after

5th tank:

• MY PRIDE AND JOY.

• its in the main room of the house instead of the "fish room" where all the others are.

• 240 gallons and has had its interior switched out (from freshwater to salt) so many times that its probably seen the dawn of time. its so expensive to maintain. theres been lots of tears shed over it

• currently freshwater!!

• contains: angelfish (from tank 2), blue acaras, apistogrammas, corydoras, denison barbs, and some stray guppies and mollies!!!

• is incredibly loud when cleaning out/refilling

• set so thats its INSIDE the wall + has its own very tiny room behind it for feeding, temperature checks, and maintenance

• like i said, used to be salt water, and then fresh water, and then salt water. when we want to change it we either sell the fish or move them.

• personal favorite tank

weird brick pond that is shoved into and takes up most of the space in our tiny backyard:

• lots of koi

• sometimes my bearded dragon swims in here

• when it was being built, some of my extended family swam in there with me before there were any fish or plants

• pretty big, i just said small because it's definitely not what you think when you picture a pond

• also contains a turtle whose name is brook. i actually raised her in the sick fish tank from when she was a baby that could fit in my hand. shes still pretty small, shes only about three years old

• there was an emergency a couple of months ago where everyone was on vacation and the whole pond just...drained...? apparently there was some kind of leak. there was a bit of water left, so some of the koi survived, but most died. there was lots of crying and also brook had a field day eating the fishes dead bodies.

thats it!! PLEASE ask questions or make statements or whatever, i really love my fish <333

#ok to rb #fishposting #fishblr

[ihavebeenallthingsunholy]

killjoy fic. only one chapter so far, im trying to write some more.

she saw the first figure on the horizon, then the other three. they always travel in packs. usually four. idly she thought of the killjoys she'd grown up with. once four figures together meant salvation, family. now, it means target practice.

val raised his gun a split second after she raised hers. both were trained on the figure in the front of the drac-squad. val shot her a look that clearly meant- i've got this. don't bother.

it wasnt as if she liked him, but he did serve a purpose. val velocity was an attack dog, but he was too smart for his own good, and once you pointed him at something he'd stop at nothing. he showed no remorse and no acknowledgement that draculoids were people, once. she hated him for that. she lowered her gun, squinting through the heated air at the drac in front. the one val was pointing at. something felt familiar about the tilt of the white-clad shoulders, the rock-star tilted hips.

on impulse, she brought her arm up and knocked val's gun halfway out of his hand. "fuck d'ya think you're doing?" he said angrily. she didn't have a response, so she shot him a look and hoped that would be enough.

she turned her gaze to the draculoid in front only to realize that apparently she hadn't hit val's gun arm quickly enough. the figure seemed to be winged and was lying in the sand. the other three backed away to a safe distance, guns safely away. something seemed... off. until she realized the drac wasn't moving or struggling to get up. just laying in the sand like they were dead, but they clearly weren't. even from where she stood the girl could see that val's blast had only just grazed their shoulder. the bl/ind issue white drac jacket had a furrow through it, smoke curling upwards.

the girl inched forwards. doubts ran through her mind, encouraged by vals mutterings that she was going to get killed and that she'd deserve it, the dumbass kid. what if it was just playing dead and was really going to jump up and shoot her? she didn't think so. she'd gotten good at reading body language. the drac on the ground was an open book: not quite i give up, but i dont have the energy to keep going. not right now. the drac's curled up position reminded her of the way party had looked when val shot him the first time. laying in the hard-packed sand, blue-hazel eyes turned dazed up to heaven.

we'll get em next time, was what his eyes said.

for party poison, there wasn't a next time.

the girl mustered all her courage and tried her best to not think about red hair or a dusty old car. to not remember kobra's bike or his unreadable smile that drove cherri up the wall.

this was her life now. for the last twelve years it was survive, kill, forget. forget about explosives and cargo pants and an eyepatch and turning a random patch of desert into the only home she'd ever known. forget about power pup and poison red.

she shook her way out of her mind, memories sticking to her eyes like cobwebs. she roughly shoved the drac- person - onto their back with one steel toed boot. they still didn't move, and she glanced up at the other three, who were still sitting in their bl/ind car, watching with painted-on eyes.

after the first four had died, the girl had started carrying a razor-sharp knife around in her boot. they'd never hold her captive while other killjoys died again. now, she reached down to her boot and flicked the blade out in a practiced fluid motion. lately, she'd picked up the habit of trying to get a look at who the drac was before they died. everyone deserved that at least one person mourned for them, even if it was their murderer. or if not mourned, at least acknowledged they were ever alive.

she drew the knife up through the side of the mask, steel cutting rubber like warmed butter. not that she'd ever had butter, but there were stories. cautiously she pushed the edge of the mask back with the end of the blade. val hated this tradition of hers, and this time especially he made it known with a shout of "r' you actually FUCKING stupid? it's still alive AND ther'r more in th' car!"

she ignored him, as she always did, and looked down at the face. a rush of familiarity flooded through her.

blue-hazel eyes. the angles she'd noticed even before she saw the face. the brown-black hair that she only ever saw as a kid when the group ran low on hair dye for a few months.

maybe there was a god. or maybe she'd just gotten very, very lucky.

#mcr #danger days #fanfic #original #mcr fic #killjoys #val velocity #party poison #my writing

[aurheatum]

👹

Sitri isn't a particularly mischievous child, but surely it's alright to play now and again, especially on a day like this. Lady Rhea is giving out candy to all the children who ask, after all. Of course, that's very kind of her, and it's not that Sitri is jealous. It's just that she doesn't think she should stand in line for candy with everyone else. She's special, her mother herself always says so.

So Sitri sneaks away from the other orphans and all the way to the Archbishop's office, with a brief stop by the kitchens. She crouches behind the desk, peering out now and again to see if her mother is coming (hopefully without the clergy in tow).

When the door opens and she sees the tip of Rhea's witch hat, she covers her mouth to keep from giggling. It's only once her mother is almost beside the desk that she leaps out from her hiding place, roaring like a fearsome wyvern with her hands fashioned into claws.

"RAAAWRRRRR!" The roar devolves into a fit of laughter as she rushes to throw her arms around her mother's waist, smushing her face into Rhea's legs and nuzzling her. "Well? Did I scare you, Mama? Did I?" She asks between giggles, pulling back just enough to look up at her mother. "I practiced a whole lot with Val," she adds, breathless with exertion and joy.

"Oh, and I got you muffins! They're still over there," she points towards the desk with one hand before going back to hugging her mother, "because I couldn't make claws holding them and all. Anyway, you deserve to get treats too, Mama." Despite this, she makes no move to let go of her mother and allow her to go near the desk. It's just too nice to hold onto her like this.

"Oh, but I'm not releasing you," Sitri adds in a sudden burst of inspiration, grinning as she tightens her hold. "That's part of the prank, you see. The witch will be trapped without treats until she defeats the dragon guarding them."

The way to "defeat" her is, of course, to simply pick her up and carry her. She doesn't say it so as not to ruin the game, but she does look up at Rhea expectantly. "I'm a baby dragon, though, so this should be easy for a powerful witch like you!"

The last equinox on the close of the Horsebow Moon has long held meaning for the people of Fodlan and Rhea has found it fascinating to watch the rituals and celebrations they invent for times of transition such as these, even without the church’s guiding hand.

"Festivals” particularly ones involving what can best be translated to their language as spirits seem to hail from Brigid, and have grown in popularity since Adrestria’s west coastal towns also started celebrating in a similar manner.

Rhea had been worried about this at first, particularly as the Empire had so recently seemed to shy away from the church, but looking out over the castle town now with children and adults alike dancing cheerily around a bonfire she feels confident she has made the right decision.

The Horsebow Moon is a time of bounty, and as all beautiful and good things come from the Goddess it had been simple enough to introduce her teachings to the holiday.

Rhea has in fact just come back from speaking on Her behalf, though in a different garb than usual; rather than the archbishop’s head piece she now wore what was apparently a “witch” hat, one that she claimed gave her the Goddess-appointed power on this day of all days to deliver candy to any child who might be deserving of some.

(Let it not be said that Seteth’s absence hadn’t led to some good. Garreg Mach’s younger populace, orphans of the church and children from the town alike had been delighted with her performance).

She had given the rest of the candy (and hats, logically) to the more willing nuns and started back to her chambers, wondering, as she did so about one child in particular; when she finds her door open a jar, and shut again in a very certain way she cannot help the smile that comes to her face, that she covers over at once with her usual mien.

“Oh my!” And it comes out loudly, but with a burst of true laughter; “you certainly startled me,” she says, honestly, and adds with a twinkle in her eye: “the Dagdan diginitaries told me to be wary of tricksters and shape shifters this time of year but I obviously did not heed them. Whatever am I to do with this one who has stolen into the church’s innermost chambers?”

She bends down to listen closely to her captors instructions; craning her head only for a moment to look at the basket of muffins she had first missed on her desk, and she is sure when she can give them a closer look they will be as perfect as Sitri is in this moment.

"I get both a trick and a treat then? My, being a witch is certainly a busy life," she laughs as Sitri pulls her closer. "And it will be even busier… once I capture the baby dragon in turn!"

Rhea sweeps Sitri up in her arms then and though the girl had made her intent clear as any of her most heartfelt emotions the expression on her face is the sweetest of things Rhea has, or will, experience today she is sure (muffins included).

"Now that I have you I do not think I shall defeat you or give you up… what do you say we start our own hoard of sweets? Your wonderful muffins and these candied apples I have saved just for a certain dragon child were she to fly near enough to catch. Ah, and something for Val too of course. It would not do to forget such a wonderful mentor and friend in such a day of celebration."

#;answered #divinecrest #Child sitri verse tbt #//it's not Halloween anymore but I have anime Catholicism on my side so seeing as it's all saints day #//and tomorrows all souls day I feel Validated in still answering these asks tehe

[catgirlalchemist]

Mihri’s Mech OVA (Part 1)

AKA “I didn’t like Sorrows of Werlyt so I’m rewriting it entirely and cutting Gaius, and also making up my own extensive XIV mech lore.”

“I’m turning on the KLEOS now, Cid.”

“Roger that, Mihri. Reading the KLEOS as active.”

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply and evenly. All around her, the cockpit was lit up with holographic screens reporting on every aspect of her surroundings, but none of that mattered right now. The hairpin-like device on her forehead was warm, and she could feel it guiding her toward the familiar mental state of the Echo.

Hear… Feel… That wasn’t it. She needed to go deeper. The machine around her was thrumming above her, below her, around her, like a living being. Focus on its soul, Cid had said, and your own will follow. She let herself sink into it.

The thrumming was inside her, now, and she opened her eyes, raised her hand, and saw the metal fingers flex as she moved them. She turned her head to the side and looked towards the catwalk at eye level. Cid and the other Ironworks technicians were so small compared to her now. “I’ve got it,” she said.

Cid held his hand up to his linkpearl. Of course, she realized, her voice still wasn’t coming out of this new face. “I’d gathered! All readings are green, Mihri, the KLEOS is stable and the Valiance is responding to you perfectly.”

Mihri Ninaka hadn’t really expected to spend her return trip to the Source piloting a giant robot the size of a five-story building, but Cid had told her there was a new Garlean warmachina approaching the Eorzean front, and this Ruby Weapon appeared indestructible by any conventional means. A young conscript engineer had apparently fled to Ala Mhigo with data on the Resonant-based control system the machina was using, and Cid and the rest of the Ironworks had been able to adapt it to their own machine, but the Alliance didn’t exactly have a surplus of Echo-users to pilot it.

How strange it was, she thought, as the final checks were run on the Valiance’s systems, to think that her real body was a tiny figure nestled in the heart of the one she now perceived as her own. Her true hands were moving on the machine’s control sticks, directing it to move as she willed it, but she would not feel them again until she shut down the KLEOS—or if something went wrong and it was shut down for her. Cid had wanted to test the device more thoroughly before sending her into battle, worried about the repercussions if she was kicked from the system abruptly, but there was simply no time. The Garlean defector, Avilina, had merely remarked somberly that the system had already been tested in blood before she’d gotten away to the Alliance.

“Everything looks good, Mihri, we’re ready to fly you to the Ghimlyt Dark. Do you want to disconnect from the KLEOS, or stay linked?”

She resisted the urge to hold her machine-hand up to a linkpearl that wasn’t there. “I’m going to stay connected. There’s no time for a test run, but at least I can spend as much time getting used to this body as possible.”

“Right,” said Cid, “I’m going to have you walk out of the hangar so the Enterprise can pick you up, then.” She watched him wave his tiny arms at the gaggle of technicians still standing around. “All right everyone, move to your assigned safe zones! We’re launching in 10.” Someone had flicked a switch, and yellow caution lights began flashing throughout the hangar. Figures began to scatter, looking like dolls from this height. It would be terrifyingly easy to crush them accidentally, so Mihri stayed very very still.

The lights changed to red, and stopped flashing, then turned green. Cid turned to face Mihri—face the Valiance, she supposed, though right now the distinction didn’t really matter. “All right, we’re ready for you to go. Everyone’s clear.”

She nodded. “Understood. IX-9 Valiance, launching now.” The hangar doors began to slide open and Mihri stepped forward. She’d worried that she wouldn’t be able to balance, seeing as how the Valiance had no tail, but this body felt as natural as her own. If experiencing an Echo vision didn’t cause her to feel she was in an alien form, then there was no reason this should either.

#gwen's log #my writing #gwen plays ffxiv #fic snippet #this will eventually be completed and published but also. consider this. i'm impatient

[prairiesongserial]

20.3

Friday turned her smile back on as she entered the lounge. The larger circle of conversation had broken up while she’d been on the deck; now, groups of three or four played games and chatted amongst themselves.

It was too bad John and Cody had left early–a subtle sign could have gotten her a private word with one of them. Friday thought about going looking for them to see what they thought about the first mate’s offer–but if she left the lounge, she might miss an opening to pull Val aside. He was the one she really wanted to talk to about the strange conversation she’d just had.

In her absence, Val had moved to one of the tables, where he watched a game of backgammon with a bored expression.

The players were Clovis Girard and Aravind Dumont. Friday had already decided she didn’t like Clovis. He wore a gold ring on every finger and three in each ear, and he tapped and fiddled with them incessantly. He snapped his fingers in a flourish every time he summoned his valet, sing-songing the man’s name three or four times in a row for however long it took for Etienne to appear at his side. Last night, Clovis had proven himself to be the type to insert himself into the conversation, even if he had nothing insightful to say. And if his comment didn’t get the reaction he wanted, he would say it again, as if he hadn’t been heard. 

Aravind Dumont, Friday didn’t have much of an opinion about. He didn’t wear any jewelry, but every part of him from his suit down to his leather shoes was top quality. His soft smile was apparently unshakeable, because no matter what came out of Clovis’s mouth, there wasn’t as much as a twitch of annoyance in Aravind’s face. Friday hadn’t met Aravind’s wife last night, but she was here now, engaging Val in conversation while her husband played against Girard.

Friday slipped up to Val, resting an arm across his shoulders while she pretended to be interested in the game of backgammon. She quickly ascertained that Ernestine Dumont was dangerous. First, her pearls were real, and she wore a fortune’s worth on her wrists, around her neck, and in her ears. Ernestine was young, but sharp, and every friendly question she put to Val was a minefield. He was barely holding his own against each probe for detail about his line of work, his primary residence, his hobbies, and so on.

“I can’t believe you and your wife don’t have any help aboard, how are you managing?” Ernestine asked, her voice crisp and full of humor. She and Aravind shared an unfamiliar accent–and when they joined the French-speakers in a private joke, it was clear they weren’t as comfortable in the language.

Friday was about to answer for Val, when he replied, “What do we need help for? The service on the boat is fine.”

Ernestine giggled. “I suppose it might be entertaining to manage for yourself for a day or two–even the Dauphin is said to have a cottage where he disappears sometimes when it strikes his fancy to wash his own dishes. But for me, I really can’t see the appeal.” 

This line of conversation had attracted the attention of another pair. d’Orléans wandered up with a teacup in hand, Casimir Brus by their side, holding the saucer. These two had been part of the late-night crowd last night, whereas the Dumonts had retired shortly before Friday had.

“You mustn’t tease the Lecters,” d’Orléans said magnanimously. “Not everyone shares your tastes.”

Today, d’Orléans was dressed in a chiffon shirt and peach satin skirt which hugged their hips before pooling elegantly at their feet. Their jewelry was gold, and they wore a ring with a pink stone on one finger. Next to d’Orléans’s warm coloring, Ernestine and her pearls looked washed out.

Friday almost didn’t recognize d’Orléans–last night, they’d preferred a more masculine mode. But d’Orléans’s long blond hair was the uniting factor. They gave Friday a friendly wink as they set their teacup on the saucer waiting in Casimir’s hands.

Ernestine’s gaze lingered on the exchange, before a prim smile formed on her lips.

“I’m just making conversation,” she said lightly. “It’s a valid question–why would I assume my new friends are as kinky as Barthélemy d’Orléans and C…”

“Just d’Orléans,” Casimir said.

Unphased by the faux pas, d’Orléans took their teacup back and shot Val a smile.

“Isn’t it boring to watch others play?” they asked Val. “Casimir wants to invite you to play him at chess again, he had such fun last night.”

Judging by Casimir’s disinterested expression, this was untrue. But he surprised Friday by glancing at the chessboard on the other side of the room.

Val stood up, and Friday stepped back to give him room to leave. It was a smart move–Ernestine was toying with him, so it was time to change conversation partners.

Unfortunately, that left Friday on her own for a while. She was bursting to tell Val about Ms. Écuyer’s offer to sneak the two of them off the ship–but there was still time. She just had to wait for the right moment.

In the meantime, she decided to snub Ernestine for another corner of the room where a group of four was having more fun than everyone else, talking loudly in a mix of French and English.  Friday was acquainted with them all. There was Ansgarde Conti, a heavyset man who had been the first to kiss Friday’s hand and welcome her into the conversation last night. Then there were two women: first was Helene Capet, a dark-skinned woman with short braids that ended just under the ear. She wore a delicate smile, too graceful to laugh out loud at the kinds of jokes that were being told. She had been especially challenging to talk to last night, as her manners were flawless, drawing attention to every fumble on Friday’s part. Saïda d’Angoulême sat beside Helene. She presented a challenge of her own, fixing Friday with an icy stare when she came to sit down.

“Bon jour,” Friday said with a smile and a wink, triggering a halt in the conversation. She took the empty seat between Conti and the last member of their circle–Sacha Fortune. He was the only one that she hadn’t met until this afternoon, when Ms. Écuyer had called him over. He was dressed significantly more casually than everyone else in a shirt with a paisley pattern and white pants. He wore boat shoes without any socks.

Sitting between the men after having been snubbed by her husband last night was a bold move. It would probably annoy the women, who were almost unanimously annoyed by her already–save Helene, who, if she disliked Friday, had decided to be polite about it.

“Friday Lecter,” Sacha said with a smile. “We were just discussing our plans for the rest of the evening. Maybe you and your husband could join us for dinner.”

“Mr. Lecter may have a conflict,” d’Angoulême said, glancing over to the game of chess on the other side of the room before meeting Friday’s eyes. d’Orléans sat between Val and Casimir, leaning in to speak to Val while he deliberated over his next move.

Annoyance flashed across Friday’s face. Val might not mind being played with, but she did. Sacha clicked his tongue disapprovingly at d’Angoulême–and the woman’s expression changed at once. She went from cold to steaming mad, clearly biting her tongue.

“He’s free to make his own plans,” Friday said flippantly. “It’s so lovely to meet new people, and it’ll be over too soon–we must take full advantage.”

“Well said, well said,” Conti said, so jolly that he was possibly oblivious to d’Angoulême’s snipe. “We will count you in for dinner.”

“I am curious,” Friday began, relaxing her posture. “How far is it between Newfoundland and the mainland? I must know how many more dinner invitations I can expect.”

She landed her twinkling gaze on Sacha, who sighed, and with a wan smile, got to his feet.

“That would be a question for Ms. Écuyer. She’s the expert.” Sacha approached the bar, where a man in the ship’s service uniform was making a drink for Clovis Girard. Etienne waited to the side, ready to deliver it.

“Where is Ms. Écuyer? Surely not working?” Ernestine Dumont chimed in with a laugh. She twisted a finger through her string of pearls

“We were spoiled so far with her attention,” said Conti. “Are you getting a drink, Sacha? Get me a soda water, would you?”

The conversation flittered here and there for a while longer, Friday never getting her answer. d’Angoulême announced that she was hungry, and Helene Capet excused herself to follow her friend to the dining room, neither of them inviting anyone else to join them. It was a slight that Conti seemed to take to heart, but which made Sacha laugh.

“I guess I shouldn’t have spoken for the ladies,” Sacha said, still smiling. “Mrs. Lecter, would you join me and Mr. Conti for dinner?”

Friday spared a glance over her shoulder. Val was actually talking with d’Orléans–she watched his mouth form a full sentence.

“Valerie, I’m going to the dining room,” she announced imperiously. “Will you join?”

He looked up mid-sentence. He made no move to rise. He was about to turn her down, but Friday beat him to it.

“Never mind, finish your game,” she said. 

She was beginning to feel nervous as she trailed behind Sacha and Conti. As Conti held the door open for her, she told herself that five in the morning was still plenty far away.

*

Dinner had turned into a long affair. The ship was a mammoth of different entertainments, and that included places to dine. Sacha and Conti had led her to a dining room on the opposite end of the ship, not the familiar one where she and Val had eaten breakfast. This dining room had white tablecloths and over-attentive service.

Friday had barely lifted her fork before the course in front of her was cleared and replaced by the next plate of artfully arranged food. The light was dim and romantic, but Sacha and Conti appeared not to notice the atmosphere. The conversation remained friendly, as if this was a perfectly natural setting for three new friends.

After what must have been a dozen courses, Friday caught a glimpse of the face of Conti’s watch and realized that it was already after ten. A waiter hovered over her shoulder to re-fill her glass of wine for the fourth or fifth time since they’d arrived hours ago.

Sacha and Conti seemed perfectly happy to sit as they were for several hours more. And they were such good conversationalists that Friday might not notice the time slip by.

Friday shifted subtly, her shoulder colliding with the waiter’s arm so that he tipped her glass of wine over, drenching the tablecloth along with Friday’s skirt.

Friday gasped in mock surprise. The waiter apologized as if his life depended on it–Friday felt a little bad. Working for the extravagantly wealthy, the poor man was probably used to being berated within an inch of his life over mistakes far less catastrophic than this one.

“Don’t think of it, don’t think of it,” Friday said, taking her napkin and dabbing at her ruined dress. She felt a chill run down her spine at the look on Conti’s face. His pleasant nature was completely absent, replaced by barely contained rage. Sacha, on the other hand, looked on the scene with bright eyes, as if spilled wine was the most interesting thing in the world.

“I think I’ll go back and change,” Friday said. “Thank you both for a lovely time.” Then, to the waiter, she added, “Please don’t apologize any more, really, it’s fine.”

As soon as she had excused herself, Conti switched to French and began to berate the waiter with language Friday presumed he did not wish to use in front of a lady guest.

Friday jogged down the halls until she finally found her way back to her and Val’s cabin. There was no sign of him, of course. She swore at herself for losing track of time as she quickly shimmied out of the spoiled dress. She flitted across the cabin in her slip, which also needed to be changed, if only she could find the spare. She really wasn’t used to wearing clothing like this. The dresses were all carefully draped layers of silk and gauze, and while they looked like they were made out of air, they were actually rather complicated and heavy.

Friday laid out another dress, this one white with blue trim, but paused. Instead, she dug out the most practical outfit from her new wardrobe: a pair of well-tailored pants and a tunic that was probably intended to be pajamas. She packed everything else up in her suitcase and set it by the door, then did the same with Val’s, though the only items he had unpacked were essential toiletries.

She paused before the door. She had goosebumps on her arms, as if she’d had a scare–but nothing had happened. She took a deep breath. She needed to get herself together. She would insist that Val come and speak with her in private, she’d fake a fight, give him no choice–somehow, she’d get him alone before five.

Friday returned to the lounge, expecting Val to have returned to one of the armchairs–but it appeared he, too, was still at dinner. For the first time since they’d set sail, the lounge was completely empty. The goosebumps returned to Friday’s arms. Hesitating for a second longer, she went over to the bar to order a drink.

“When did my husband go to dinner?” she asked the bartender haughtily.

“...a little while ago,” the bartender said. “Not sure exactly.”

“Did anyone mention which dining room?” she asked.

“No, Mrs. Lecter.”

Friday rolled her eyes. At the Ace of Spades, the staff knew every patron’s business right down to their mother’s middle name. She noticed how the bartender’s hand shook slightly as he poured out a shot of whiskey for her, and her opinion of him softened.

“Alright, don’t worry about it,” she said. She didn’t take the drink and left to track down her husband.

Except that every passenger seemed to have turned in for an early night. Val wasn’t in any of the dining rooms, although Friday did find the Dumonts still working through a bottle of wine, as well as Clovis Girard, who appeared to be stuck dining alone. Val wasn’t on the pool deck or in the atrium either. Friday had made up her mind to bang on John’s cabin door when she realized that she didn’t know which one was his. Annoyed that an hour of running up and down the ship had turned up with nothing, she finally stalked back to her cabin to collect her thoughts.

She could wait for him in the lounge, but what if he decided to come back to the cabin instead? They’d miss each other. Pacing at the end of the bed, Friday tripped over her own suitcase. She hissed in annoyance.

This was ridiculous. She took up her and Val’s suitcases by the handles and marched from her cabin, letting the door slam closed behind her. She was out of breath by the time she reached Ms. Écuyer’s cabin. It was removed from the passenger cabins, in the same section of the ship as the captain’s cabin and a restricted area. She dropped the suitcases loudly on the floor outside and banged her fist on Ms. Écuyer’s door. This wasn’t her idea of a good plan, but it hadn’t been her first choice.

“Ms. Écuyer, are you in there? I need to speak with you urgently,” she hollered. “Ms. Écuyer!”

It was alright if the first mate wasn’t there–the ruckus would eventually get her what she wanted. Friday pinched right under her eyes a few times, then resumed banging on Ms. Écuyer’s door, pleading for her to open the door at the top of her lungs.

“Mrs. Lecter, what’s the matter?”

Friday jumped when she heard the voice behind her. It was Conti, his face full of concern. When he saw her red eyes, he took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, which Friday took gratefully. She leaned back against Ms. Écuyer’s door.

“I’ve got to speak to the first mate urgently, it really can’t wait,” Friday said. She squeezed the handkerchief against her bottom lip, naturally drawing Conti’s attention there. Just then, Sacha came into view at the end of the hall, looking for the source of the commotion. He hurried when he saw Friday in distress.

“Friday?” he asked, looking between her and Conti. He glanced down to the suitcases at her feet. “What’s going on?”

“I’m afraid it’s a private matter,” she said, lifting the handkerchief under one eye and turning her face away. “If you would be so good as to help me find Ms. Écuyer…”

Conti and Sacha shared a look of distress.

They were spared from having to reply as another figure appeared at the end of the hall. The figure took a few steps, leaned against the wall for a moment, then continued toward the three of them. To Friday’s shock, she realized it was Val. He was trying to move quickly, but could barely keep his feet under him.

Friday fought the urge to run over to him, keeping herself planted in place. She stared openly, lowering the handkerchief from her face as she took him in. He came to a stop in front of her, then leaned heavily on Ms. Écuyer’s door, just a few inches away. 

“Friday,” he said urgently. Friday’s eyes widened at the sight of him. He was dead drunk. He blinked down at her as if he was having trouble focusing. Not only that, but his shirt was rumpled and the collar was soaked in blood–so was the end of one sleeve. Friday could put two and two together–at least his nose didn’t look broken.

“You…what happened? Did you fight someone?” she asked, her tone harsh. The question spilled out before she could decide whether it was the best tactical choice. But it worked well enough. Conti and Sacha, caught in the middle of the awkward conversation, were forced to back off to the very edge of hearing distance–though they were still too nosy or chivalrous to actually leave.

“Um,” Val said. He grimaced, as if he was struggling to remember. He rubbed a hand over the side of his neck, then winced, lifting bloody fingers away from a scrape under his collar.

Well, she had him alone now, but Val was so drunk that there was no way he’d be able to have a serious conversation about whether or not they should try to leave the ship early. The whole thing was completely hopeless–Friday found herself on the verge of crying for real. She grit her teeth. Even though Val was here, she’d have to move ahead with the plan she’d set in motion.

“It doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “You can clean yourself up–I’m changing cabins. I’m sick of waiting up for you all night, while you do who knows what.”

Val gave her a confused look.

“Don’t cry,” he said, his brow furrowed. His mouth worked open and closed like he wanted to say something else. There was still a sharp, sober sort of urgency in his eyes.

Sacha interjected, his hands suddenly steadying the lightly swaying Val.

“Mon ami, Valerie–can I call you that? Are you hurt? Do you need a bandage?”

Val frowned. “I…yes.”

“Let me help you find one.” Sacha began to lead Val away, acting as a crutch for the much taller man. “Conti, do you mind…?”

Conti appeared at Friday’s side.

“I’ll arrange another cabin for you,” he said. He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to worry, Mrs. Lecter. Sacha and I will be discreet.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Friday let him take her arm and walk her down the hall. Her thoughts were miles away–she barely heard what Conti said next. She wavered over whether she was making the right choice, giving up on leaving the ship early. Val hated when she decided things for him, but then again, he wasn’t exactly making it easy. And what about John and Cody? Trying to get their attention without spoiling their disguises would have been impossible, no matter what she tried. Or maybe she just hadn’t thought about it hard enough.

Conti had led her all the way down to the crew’s quarters, where he banged on the door.

“...New room for Mrs. Lecter,” he said quietly to the member of the crew who answered. Friday caught a glimpse of Cody through the door–he was trying to catch her eye. For the sake of keeping up appearances, Friday looked the other way.

“Why haven’t you called for Ms. Écuyer?” Friday asked Conti. “I must speak to her personally.”

“Surely the first mate shouldn’t be called away from her duties over the small matter of a room key,” Conti said. The crewman he’d just spoken to returned before Friday had the chance to reply, depositing her new key into Conti’s waiting hand.

Conti walked her all the way to the new cabin. He helped her bring her suitcases inside–really, her and Val’s suitcases. As he straightened, Friday noticed a wine stain on his shirt.

She dabbed the handkerchief that Conti had lent her against the spot, causing him to jolt in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Friday said as he took the handkerchief back from her. “You have a spot from when I knocked over my glass. I’ve caused you a lot of trouble today.”

His expression softened again. He took the back of her hand and kissed it.

“Not to worry, Mrs. Lecter.”

They bid each other good night. With the closed door between her and the rest of the ship, Friday could breathe again. Right or wrong, she stayed in her new cabin for the rest of the night, restlessly looking out the porthole onto the choppy black water.

When she returned to the hall outside the first mate’s door at five past five in the morning, she could hear the distant sounds of cargo being loaded onto the ship. She wasn’t planning on leaving. She just had a bad feeling. Sure enough, even after half an hour of waiting, Ms. Écuyer did not make an appearance.

20.2 || 20.4

#story