#anyways i really like these guys. might draw something a bit nicer eventually

[rhahatl]

quit staring at me with them big ol eyes

#this feels so vastly different from how i usually draw so i have mixed feelings on it. idk #something happened in my brain that made me sit down and draw for a solid hour so i guess i'll take what i can get #anyways i really like these guys. might draw something a bit nicer eventually #flight rising #flight rising art #fr art #auraboa #fr auraboa #renegade art #img #txt

[debiteful]

Hey, when you’ve got time, think you could write a story about a predator, through inebriation, swallows someone about a third their size and don’t remember, and the story’s mostly about the prey’s attempts to get the predator’s attention over the course of a week while hijinks ensue? Preferably anthros, nonfatal, if possible?

Content: soft vore, safe vore, unaware female anthro owl pred, trapped male anthro dragon prey, drunk pred, struggles, exhaustion, minor belly bulge, pred in discomfort, descriptive internal, food in with prey, multiple stomachs, awkward end, secondhand embarrassment

Graffa woke up with a belch. She stretched and wiped drool from the corner of her mouth. She couldn't remember a single thing about last night. Well, that wasn't quite true. She remembered taking someone home with her- a dragon! The little fella has been an absolute hoot at the party.

She rubbed her eyes with clawed hands, then scratched a feathered forearm. She looked around, her head turning more than 180° thanks to her owl anatomy. Well, he didn't seem to be here now. She got up to get ready for the day.

Despite appearances, Herbert, the dragon, was still there. In a bashful, daring gambit he had convinced the far from sober lady to eat him whole. She had been clumsy about it, hands fumbling to stuff him past her beak and down her gullet. He had helped as best he could, wriggling in and not fighting the waves of contracting muscles.

From there he had slid into her first stomach. Its small capacity was stretched to its limits around his scaly body. It had made lovely gurgles and threatening growls as it filled with fluids which gushed around him. They stung his nose and eyes a little, but they couldn't do much else to his tough hide.

He could feel her patting or pounding at the bulge he made high in her abdomen. The repeated blows helped move him along, deeper into her digestive tract. One short squeeze through a sphincter sent him into her gizzard. This was much more spacious, the tough, smooth walls bulging only slightly around the little guy.

Suddenly he was squished firmly from one side. It felt like a tight hug, but in reality she had flopped into bed and passed out. When he tried to wriggle into a more comfortable position, the stomach walls flexed around him. Muscular folds clenched around a limb or his head, only to slowly release it after a.few moments. The entire gizzard shifted as the walls tried to grind him with little success. They relied on the enzymes to soften what came through, and those had failed to affect him.

It was there, in her second stomach, that Herbert now lay. After a restless night of a churning stomach, he was drowsy and limp. When he felt her move, he was startled into alertness. Now was his chance to get out! He squirmed weakly, legs kicking and sinking feet into squishy muscular walls.

She burped again, just a small one this time. She had gotten changed into clothes and was headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Oddly, she didn't feel too hungry. In fact, now that she thought about it, her stomach felt really strange. Was her gizzard doing backflips inside? 

She gave it a firm rub. He felt it- it was rather nice- and pushed out against where he felt it. Yes, she was noticing!

Graffa frowned as she felt her gizzard move. It sure felt firm. What had she eaten last night? If only she could remember- then she could avoid it. Whatever it was, it was making her awfully bloated. Fairly unappetized, she settled on a piece of fruit for breakfast. 

While she thought, her small meal made its way to the gizzard. Herbert didn't feel the food so much- it was all the same warm body temperature- as he felt the stomach respond. The entire thing clenched around him and began to grind at its contents. He groaned and tried to relax, not daring to resist the muscular organ's will as it squished him this way and that. Slowly but surely, whatever she ate became a paste. Then it easily slid into the next portion of her digestive system, unlike him.

She went over to the couch and flopped down. She smoothed her ruffled feathers and rubbed her aching belly. Maybe some TV would help.

While she relaxed, Herbert was finally able to doze off. It seemed the stomach was satisfied with her meager offering.

She changed position a few times, and eventually it jostled him awake. She was on the move again, this time getting a snack. Resting didn't seem to be helping, and eating hadn't hurt.

As mushy chips joined him, Herbert was now energized enough to cry out. "HEY! YOU! Uh- Graffa!" 

When he was only met with silence he wriggled his head closer to the outer wall and yelled, "You big feathered beaut! Let me out! I'm still in here!"

Between flesh, feathers, and a TV turned up to beat the sound of her crunching, he didn't stand a chance of being heard. He shouted and hollered until his voice was hoarse. The humid air trapped with him tasted slightly of salt.

He tried a few more times throughout the day with similar results. By evening he was reduced to whines and whimpers, "Please Graffa… hear me… let me out of here, I don't want to be a midnight snack…"

He coughed weakly. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't form a single word. So much for that.

The day after the next day, the owl was still feeling bloated. It was like a bowling ball had settled in her gut. No amount of rubbing or snacking or medication could soothe it for long. Whatever she had eaten to do this, she would certainly avoid it like the plague- once she figured out what it was.

She considered calling in to work briefly. Remembering the big meeting with her supervisor's supervisor ended that line of thought. Graffa knew she had to go to work. The drive was uneventful, and that heavy feeling in her gut didn't fade.

When she got there and sat down in the board room, she absently rubbed at it a bit.

When her boss' boss arrived, and the meeting began, trouble started. Herbert had finally gotten a few winks of sleep during her drive, but the movement to get into the building and sit down had brought him back to wakefulness. How had she not noticed him? It was time to make her notice.

The doll sized dragon kicked and failed as best he could. Her stomach reacted immediately, pushing back and growling. The more he moved, the louder her stomach noises got. Surely this would draw her attention. It might even make her stomach release it on its own.

He was not so lucky. Beneath her feathers she blushed hard as her stomach imitated a whale with its rumbling sounds. It was clear the boss had noticed, though he had the professionalism to say nothing. Maybe it was her place to?

During a lull in the conversation she cleared her throat, "Sorry about the ah- noises. Stomach's been feeling off all day."

"Well thank you for coming in anyway. I'm incredibly busy, as you know."

She nodded. Speaking didn't make her feel much better. Thankfully the meeting moved on from there. Even better, Herbert had exhausted himself. She made it through the rest of the day with little incident.

The unfortunate prey had a lot of time to think. How could he gain her attention? He certainly didn't want to live in here forever! Even if it was warm, and soft, and the walls embraced and just about massaged him. Whenever he thought about the nicer points, he found himself stroking the nearest fold of flesh. In different circumstances this would be a fantastic stomach.

It took him a whole day to think of another way to vye for her attention. As she sat down to supper, he wriggled into position.

She still hadn't found her appetite. As a result, meals were small and snacks were frequent. It was almost like something was taking up her stomach space rent free. She ate slowly, doing it more because she knew she had to than because she felt hungry.

As the sludge joined poor Herbert, he was jostled by the stomach walls. He squirmed to keep his position. His hand slid along the undulating wall beneath him until it found the place where the mashed food left. He plugged it with a hand. He yelped in surprise as it sucked in his arm a bit. All the better to keep the food out, he mused.

Graffa felt a cramp low in her belly as it clenched around his arm. She groaned and pushed at it, trying to move whatever it was along. Her probing rubs squished the walls against his arm and face, and she did succeed in pushing his arm deeper.

He yelped, "Hey! Careful! There's someone in here!" But the stomach drowned him out. All she heard was loud gurgles which rumbled across her abdomen.

Terrified of being sucked in entirely, he struggled to get his arm free. His free hand pushed and slid at the shifting walls while trying to brace to pull. The trapped arm wiggled back and forth. When he tugged on it, it pushed himself down against the bottom of the stomach.

The continual downward strokes from outside the stomach did nothing to help his cause. He struggled vainly for quite some time. At last, he was too tired to fight it anymore. He couldn't stop whatever would happen. He was almost too tired to feel terror at that prospect. Almost.

After making her way to bed much earlier than usual, Graffa belched. She grimaced as her gizzard cramped and another burp came up. The movements jerked Herbert upward, freeing his limp arm. They weren't enough to send him all the way up like he dared to hope.

Relatively free, he settled curled up inside her stomach. His numb arm was cradled gently against his chest.

They both drifted off to sleep with difficulty.

After the failure of his last attempt, Herbert was stumped on how to make her notice him. For days he just lay curled up in her belly, letting it churn around him. Nothing had worked. Maybe he would be stuck like this forever…

His salvation was a phone call.

One of his friends had been asking around when he didn't answer his texts. The sleuth had figured out that at last weeks party his pal had gone home with Graffa. Mutual friends of friends were able to get him her phone number.

Graffa answered the phone, "Hello? Graffa speaking."

"Hi. I'm a friend of Herbert's and I've been really worried about him. Do you know when he left your house? Assuming he made it there," he added grimly. He had had too much time to over think.

"No, I'm not sure actually. I haven't seen him since-" A memory of holding the little dragon in her hands popped up. She trailed off. Eyes slowly sank to her own belly. "Oh- I'll call you back maybe. I might know where he is."

"Wait can you-" She hung up.

With a grimace she poked at her belly, "Herbert..?"

His name rumbled around him. Heart leaping to his throat, he struggled hard, "Yes! YES! In here!"

Her amber eyes widened. At least- well, at least he was alive.

She scurried off for a towel then let him up and out with great effort. She rubbed him with the soft, dry towel while not daring to look at him.

He inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh air. His cheeks were hot, unsure if he should be explaining what happened. She felt much the same way.

They both awkwardly started, then cut off at hearing the other. He spoke up again, "I guess I should be going…"

She nodded mutely. As he tracked down his things from where they had been tucked out of sight, she just stared at the floor. Belatedly she remembered, "Hey, let your friend know you're okay- I assume you're okay?"

He nodded and left without another word.

#soft vore #safe vore #female pred #male prey #anthro pred #anthro prey #owl pred #dragon prey #endosoma #size difference #pouch anon #lol

[still-a-morosexual-help]

OBEY ME! LESSON 46 DETAILED SUMMARY + THEORIES

This lesson’s got two locked chapters that I can’t unlock :’)

D takes them to the casino where they meet Mammon in the Lamp event outfit. When he laughs and tells them that they must have forgotten who he is if they think they can take the money MC ignores all of this to ask him wtf he’s wearing. Mammon blushes and tells them that they have no right to criticize what he’s wearing considering what they’re wearing. Then he says also Lucifer wtf happened to you!? He laughs and teases Lucifer about getting shrunk and how he could accidentally step on him and kill him rn or how Beel might eat him as a snack. I saw someone say that Mammon was a little shit who was also BabyTM and like Yess!??? I love when we get to see more of the asshole side of him specially when we already know how soft he is. Man’s an onion :’) Beel says he wouldn’t do that unless Lucifer hid inside a piece of cake and Beel swallowed him whole without realising. Lucifer, off screen: “You’d better realise I was there!” And Like??? That’s the point Lucifer wants to argue? Not the fact that he wouldn’t hide inside a cake? Mammon says whatever and that he’ll take Lucifer from them so he can have fun with his new toy anyway RIP to Mammon who dies after this lesson. “Mammon, Avatar of Greed, Appears”- gonna have Pokemon Battles from now on, I can’t believe this what this dating sim has evolved into :D Mammon uses wind to lift Lucifer up and bring him towards him. MC has a flashback to the previous night and commands Beel who transforms into a demon and whose body starts moving on its own, Beel then cancels out Mammon’s spell and uses a wind spell to send Mammon flying. Beel transforms back to his human form and is shocked by what happened. Solomon says MC did a good job commanding Beel though they weren’t able to draw out all his powers. They get the armour, which Beel thinks is too flashy but MC tells him it looks great which he is happy about. D tells them about a rumour of Satan attacking a town up north.

As they walk through the woods Lucifer talks about how much he’s gonna love beating the shit outta Mammon when he’s back to normal and waves MC off when they ask him to go easy on Mammon. Beel says that Lucifer used to be a lot nicer to Mammon in the celestial realm and how the two of them would team up to go argue with Raphael. Solomon asks if it was Diavolo who got Lucifer to change and what exactly Lucifer had to do to reach the status they now enjoy in the Devildom. Beel seems shocked at this and ask Lucifer if it’s true. He says he doesn’t remember. There’s growling & they’re suddenly surrounded by ghosts. Solomon: Oh yeah lol this is called the Black Phantom Forest. Everyone else: WHY the FUCK didn’t you say so before!? They run from the ghosts and set up camp beside a lake, MC & Beel talk. Beel says how they’ve all changed from their time in the Celestial Realm and he can’t remember when he stopped resisting the urge to constantly eat. But how somethings are still the same and how the brothers have always been together and how they always will be. He brings up the three things the butcher said to maintain a long relationship and how even though they may sometimes falter at the “respect each other” part when it comes down to it the brothers have all three things with each other (Not me sobbing like a baby. It’s the found family trope for me guys). Beel says how he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to fight Belphie if they meet him in the game and how he has so many people who he loves that he doesn’t know who to put first and that he knows many people would kill to have that kinda problem and that as both an angel and a demon he’s being lucky to have the people he loves. MC gets to hold his hand, lean on his shoulder or say nothing and guys I love Beel so much he’s just so pure god. Okay so theory part: I 100% believe (& it’s implied in canon and in the chats too) and the main reason Lucifer is so mean to Mammon now is because he’s scared if he doesn’t discipline him then Diavolo will and he’ll end up with another Lilith situation. That being said I NEED to know how Lucifer came across Mammon in the celestial realm and what he said to make Mammon so loyal to him. PLS om! Give me the boys backstory? I like to think Lucifer raised Mammon the same way Simeon is raising Luke and that’s why you can see some of Lucifer’s traits in Mammon whenever he becomes serious about something and why Mammon sometimes slips up and calls Lucifer “Dad” and why Lucifer becomes so happy about it. I also think the others would have been older than Mammon was when he first met Lucifer, when they eventually joined the family which is why they share far less traits with Lucifer and why (as far as we know) none of them have called Lucifer ‘dad”. If this is true it also brings up a real interesting dynamic between Satan and Mammon that would be useful when writing fics. You know a little deeply buried resentment and envy about Lucifer having been more of a father figure to Mammon than to the person who is technically his actual son, and since we know for a fact that right after arriving in the Devildom Lucifer starts going through an existential crisis and Mammon’s the one who steps up to look after the others I 100% believe Mammon’s the one who did most of the work in raising a newly created Satan and who taught him how to control his anger so well (cause lets be real it definitely couldn’t be any of the others) which also gives backstory to Satan’s “do you think Mammon’s actually the most decent of us” homescreen comment and more importantly adds spice to the relationship dynamic you can work with in fics.

When they wake up Beel is thankful that they didn’t get eaten. Solomon: not like you would have noticed with all the fun you had *wink wink* Lucifer: wtf Solomon:*WINK WINK* Me: bro they were just talking…  they find out game time and real world time pass differently and come across a treasure chest in the middle of their path. Solomon: Lets open it! :D Lucifer: Expect that’s definitely a trap… Solomon: Exactly! Which is why we should open it! :D MC: Lets open it! :D Lucifer: Why is the entire human species so fucking stupid!? Why were you created without any self preservation!? Who approved this!?  They find medicine, a warding bottle and cat ears. …They put Lucifer into the bottle and Lucifer’s really going through it in this huh. But opening the chest pulls up an inescapable battle with the final boss, and Satan pops up fully immersed in the villain role with an evil laugh and everything. Luci asks MC to use something from the chest and they use the cat ears and Lucifer’s disappointed when they actually work. But it only deals 222 damage to Satan’s 870k HP. Satan paralyses them all and steals bottled lucifer and calls Belphie to finish the others off. I can’t remember if I mentioned this before but how did the brothers know that Lucifer was gonna be mini before they even got home, it would’ve had to be quite a bit in advance for them to so perfectly set up everything… And you know Solomon was really determined to open that chest (I mean so was MC but the whole of season 1 was establishing that their curiosity was gonna get them killed) so…

MC tells Belphie they don’t want to fight him and Belphie says he doesn’t want to fight either but at the same time Satan agreed to give him mine lucifer for a whole day if he defeats them. Beel’s still reluctant and Belphie says Beel doesn’t have to worry cause Belphie isn’t the same small/weak person that Beel always had to protect (and holy shit I need more info on this too?). Beel eventually agrees and says that Belphie’s strong, he tells MC that they weren’t able to use his entire power against Mammon cause he was holding himself back unconsciously but that he was ready now. MC makes Beel do a bunch of wind attacks and they defeat Belphie who’s impressed. Beel says that the magic was actually MC doing it not him (even though he was the one that executed it). Belphie says he’ll join their party if MC promises him that he’ll be allowed to poke at mini luci. MC tells him there’s a damned line and he’ll have to wait his turn. Solomon wonders if MC should be going around giving the right to annoy lucifer to others but also he wants that right too. Even though Lucifer was kidnapped since he’s still in the bottle he’ll be protected so MC’s test is still ongoing. Odd that there was a bottle that would protect Lucifer should he get kidnapped in the chest that was a trap… look we all know Solomon is shady enough that he’s probably behind this right?

During dinner at a tavern the twins are sickeningly soft with each other and Solomon watches them with a smile. For the night the twins end up sharing a room with each other, with Mc and Solomon alone together. In the middle of the night MC wakes up to Solomon still up and looking sad. They ask him what’s up. He says despite how much they walked he still isn’t tired and that seeing the twins together made him lonely. Seeing how much they love and care and understand each other and how they were always together made him wish he had something similar but how when you didn’t age it was difficult to from lasting bonds like that in the human world. MC tells him that all of them care about him and he says he hopes so. Solomon: Lol just the two of us in a room in a game, wouldn’t it be crazy if we made out? MC can either kiss him or kinda stare awkwardly. If they choose the second he apologises for suddenly putting them on the spot and says he won’t try anything else. So this might be kinda an unpopular opinion and I’m genuinely really happy that the side characters are getting more screen time and development because I desperately needed that but I’m not really onboard the romancing option with them? I’m happy they’ve got their own cards now and I love the devilgram stories and romance options in them but I don’t think it makes sense in the context of the main storyline? Barbatos has almost no interaction with MC and though they haven’t shown it yet it’d be weird if he was suddenly into MC. Diavolo spent 2 whole seasons simping over Lucifer why is MC suddenly an option? Besides Diavolo always seems so lonely and I really want him and MC to be really good friends, I want Diavolo to have a friendship where there isn’t some condition that hangs over it like there is with his relationship with Barbatos and Lucifer. The same goes with Solomon. I just want him to have a good solid friendship where there isn’t expectations or power between them. He also initially only seems interested in MC for their power and as a way to train them and eventually genuinely softens up to them, Just the request to kiss seemed outta nowhere? I don’t know why but with Simeon he seems above crushes? I always imagine him seeing MC as another cute kid Lucifer picked up (despite MC being an adult) and having a sort of soft indulgent attitude towards them. I don’t know I think I just want MC to have some friends who aren’t trying to sleep with them.

Solomon is extremely chipper the next morning and Belphie grumpily makes a comment about him having fun and sdfjdvnsjdokd they just talked. Belphie uses his magic to teleport them to Satan’s castle and Beel asked why he couldn’t do that the previous night, Belphie says grumpily cause then Solomon would have missed out on the fun and Solomon agrees and THEY JUST TALKED!? Satan has managed to transform Lucifer into wolf Lucifer and is shaking his bottle hard enough to make Luci wanna puke while Lucifer asks him to stop. MC tells satan to stop and he tells them they won’t be able to defeat him cause they skipped right to the boss battle without taking the long route and levelling up. MC says they’re not gonna fight him cause this whole thing is fucking stupid. Satan says it’s not cause he’s having fun. MC gives him one of their free therapy sessions about how important the bonds between he and his brothers are and how they don’t care more about helping the brothers all get along than some stupid star. Beel comes out spitting facts, saying they all know that Satan actually cares about Lucifer and how that embarrasses him and how he needs to stop hiding it by lashing out. And how Lucifer needs to get his shit together and be honest with satan. That he needs to tell Satan that Lucifer knows he’s his own demon and a really good demon at that. Lucifer says FYI but I never said you weren’t your own great person and Satan blushes and says that unless he wants to look childish he has no option but to accept the olive branch. He tosses Luci to MC. Belphie complains about having stupid older brothers and Solomon says he’s disappointed in Satan and reveals himself as the true secret final boss and FUCK YEAH! I CALLED THAT SHIT! Kinda – I thought he might have just given them a heads up about Luci’s condition. On a different note, Satan needs serious therapy. They all do tbh.

Solomon congratulates MC on what they’ve done so far but says they still haven’t accessed Beel’s full potential and that he’ll give his ‘adorable apprentice’ one more shit at it. Solomon summons Asmo who complains about how long he was made to wait and how he nearly gave up and went to the spa and that no one likes a selfish man. Solomon tells Asmo that he can tell him all this after they get back to the real world and I genuinely want the backstory of how they met and just more about their relationship. At Solomon’s command Asmo uses charm and paralyses Beel and at MC’s Beel uses another wind attack. Asmo says he’s never seen beel do something of this calibre before and he seems more powerful, even more than he was in the celestial realm, Asmo yells at Solomon for just standing and seeming impressed instead of helping him. There’s a bright white light.

Back home with everything back to normal Beel, Lucifer and MC are hanging out by the pool. Lucifer is in an unexpectedly good mood and MC has earned a star, which glows slightly from its place on the symbol etched to the back of their hand. Inside Solomon is feeding the other brothers as punishment. Mammon is sobbing his heart out and Levi is out cold (possibly dead). Satan is given Levi’s remaining share of food and Asmo is in tears. Belphie had made a run for it the second they got home and is nowhere to be found. Solomon talks about how nice Lucifer actually is and how he really loves his brothers cause he just made Solomon make them dinner instead of punishing any of them…. Love that the canonical reason why none of these demons tell Solomon about his food and allow themselves to get tortured is cause they don’t wanna be rude and hurt his feelings. And he thought no one cared about him. If that isn’t love I dunno what is. Beel and MC take a walk while Lucifer sits by the pool and in his words basks in “their screams of agony” While blushing beel says he’s grateful for what happened and how that star is proof that they got closer. Mc can either thank him or say that the star belongs to him. I think they kiss after the second option? For the first Beel says MC’s the one who did the work of drawing out his power. Over the echoing screams from inside Beel asks if they feel like they forgot something and ndfjkfjkdjfefjkn THEY FORGOT DIAVOLO I’M!!!!???? poor baby

#my posts #my theories #obey me spoilers #obey me! #obey me #swd obey me #shall we date? obey me! #obey me shall we date

[bittydragon]

The Borrower of L’Manburg (Pt.1)

Notes: So for starters, this story is actually written by a friend of mine on discord. They asked if I would be willing to share this with you all and here we are! I’ve enjoyed reading their writing as the story progresses (and if you didn’t see in the title there are more parts in the making!) With that all said, their story is really good, so I hope you enjoy their writing as much as I do!

It had been a while since you had fled your home in L'manburg, but not nearly long enough to be able to move out of this cursed house that you had had to move into for the time being. You somehow chose what was possibly the worst building to ever live in. The dictator and his VP lived here; the ones that uprooted your life and destroyed the protective walls of the nation you called home. You were terrified every time you had to go out for supplies, but you couldn't survive another long journey to any other nearby building yet. Piercing loud yelling broke your train of thought.

"Quackity, I swear to God, don't you fucking touch that!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" A different voice yells back, laughing. The man behind that voice was a bit younger- Quackity is his name, the Vice President of the dictatorial president. He also seems to be a whole lot nicer in private than he showed when he was ripping down the walls that protected you. You tuned back in to their conversation, but it was too late. You hear the front door slam, and silence.

They had left. This gives you the perfect opportunity to go scavenging. These guys aren't exactly tidy- they leave everything out in the open, which is the only reason why you hadn't risked your life to escape to get somewhere else quite yet. You remove the pixels of the block you had hallowed out for yourself and look around, just to make sure the coast is clear. After replacing the pixels, you make your way across the counter of the whitehouse's kitchen, which is actually just a space below the stairs, with just a crafting table and a few furnaces. Once you get to the furthest furnace away, you clip your fishing rod string to the corner pixel and swing down to check for any leftover cooked food. There's some cooked chicken, so you grab just one pixel of it. You don't want to risk them noticing anything.

Just as you've swung yourself down to the middle furnace, you hear a loud thump upstairs, and freeze. The color and warmth drains from your face in an instant as footsteps begin thundering down the stairs that are right over your head. Oh, fuck…

You scramble to pull yourself up and unhook the string, but it's too late. You hear the clink of the door opening behind you, and your body turns cold. You can't see it, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

"What the actual fuck?" His voice seems slightly amused.

You're sweating bullets, but all of your senses suddenly hit you all at once. RUN. So, you bolt. You're sure that this is the fastest you've ever ran in your life, but somehow he's faster and slams his hand down in front of you.

"Oh hell no, you aren't going anywhere! You're staying right here, you tiny fuckin idiot." He laughs at you condescendingly as you slam into his hand and bounce off, flat on your back. When you try to sit up, he puts his index finger on your stomach to pin you down as he looms over you menacingly. "What, you really thought I'd just let you leave? I gotta know what the fuck you are!" He chuckles without a single attempt to comfort you. Can he even see that you're hyperventilating? You aren't sure.

Realizing that your hands are free, you pull out your swords and slash his finger in one swift motion, drawing blood immediately.

"AH, SHIT!" His scream thunders in your ears. He pulls away to look at the damage you did, and you swiftly scramble up and continue your escape to your block. "Hey!"

You're stopped mid sprint as your sword is snatched away from you, and you stumble a little bit. A moment later, you're also snatched up by the opposite hand. Another moment later, and you're held up in front of a giant, horned face of the man- and he looks absolutely pissed.

"You little piece of shit! What the fuck was that for? I didn't do nothin' to you!" Those words coming from him fill you with rage, but you don't want to piss him off any more.

"Let me go!" You squeak, squirming in his fist, your arms pinned to your side this time. Only your head and shoulders peak out of his hand. He raises his eyebrows at the sound of your voice, obviously a bit surprised.

"Hell no!" He looks at his other hand, at the finger you had slashed. He sucks on it for a second just to clean the blood off. "Not after that shit you just pulled. You're a violent little thing! What are you anyways, huh? Where'd you come from?"

"I'm a villager! Now let go of me!"

"Wh-What?" He laughs loudly. "You aint no fuckin' villager! You're smaller than a bee!"

"Yeah, thanks, I couldn't tell. I am a villager. At least, I used to be."

"What the fuck happened to you then, huh? A witch got you? When did they make that update?"

"Yeah, sure, a witch." You shiver at the memory of what happened to your village. Dream and Technoblade. You'll never forget.

He sets the fist you're in down on top of the furnace and leans over, resting his other elbow on the furnace as well. "Well c'mon, you gotta tell me your life story, I'm so very interested." Sarcasm drips from his stupid muttonchops.

"Piss off." You scowl at him. You remember how Dream had threatened the whole village if anyone ever said anything to anyone. Schlatt uses his thumb to nudge your head, just to annoy you. He smirks and chuckles.

"Y'know, you're kinda cute. I might have to keep you around." Your eyes widen at that.

"What? Keep me?"

"Yeah! Like a pet or some shit. Build you a little terrarium or something." He snickers.

You start to struggle in his grip again, which immediately tightens out of instinct. "Let me go! I'm not staying here with you, you crazy bastard!"

"Woah, woah, why the hostility, Jesus! Relax! I'm great to be around, I don't know why you're freaking out. You'd love Quackity, too." He stares off into space for a moment in thought of his new VP.

"No! I'm not staying with either of you! You ruined my home in L'manburg!" You fight with all your might to free yourself from his hold.

His eyes light up with something you can't quite place, but it isn't good. "Ohoho! So that's where you came from! L'manburg, huh? What the fuck did Wilbur do to you!" He laughs so hard that he has to straighten himself standing up. "Y'know, I rule L'manburg now. So you're technically my citizen. I rule you." He chuckles at your pitiful attempts to get free. "You're just as pathetic as all the other citizens I rule. Except with you, I can hold you in my hand. Oh yeah, you aren't going anywhere, anytime soon."

You didn't know it was possible to laugh as hard as he is.

~

You huff as you pace back and forth, glancing out the glass he had trapped you in. He had taken away your sword earlier, but before he had trapped you he had taken all of your supplies- your hook, your climbing equipment, your toolbelt, everything besides the pixel of cooked chicken. He said that you had 'earned' that.

Whenever you glance out the glass, you see Schlatt laying in his bed, turning a little bit every once in a while. You sigh, knowing that his VP will be home soon. At least that's what Schlatt told you before he went to sleep.

Speak of the devil, you hear the sound of the front door, muffled by the glass that surrounds you.

Fuck.

"Schlatt, I'm back! I got some extra food and coal and stuff!" A chest opens and then closes a few moments later.

You pushed yourself up and looked around for somewhere to hide. You see nothing. You're out in the open, trapped in glass, without anything to protect yourself. Double fuck. Footsteps can be heard coming up the stairs.

"Schlatt? I- Oh!" Quackity switches his voice to a whisper. "Shit, I didn't know he was sleeping." He giggles to himself. You push yourself to the far back corner away from him, which backfires on you immediately. Quackity swivels around, hearing the slight scuffling noise you made when moving. His eyes widen, as do yours, and he freezes. "What the fuck…?" He whispers, eyes locked with yours. He takes a step forward, causing you to press back even more. He notices.

"Hey, hey, it's okay! Don't be scared! I'm not gonna hurt you." His voice is a lot more calming than Schlatt's, especially since Quackity is still whispering, trying not to wake up Schlatt. You realize that you're shaking when you glance over at Schlatt. He notices that as well.

"Did… Did he trap you?" You nod in response. He squats down so he's not looming over you. "Oh Jesus. Uh… what exactly are you?"

You sigh internally, really not wanting to have to explain it each time. You decide to just give him what you refer to yourselves ever since Dream got your village. "I-I'm a borrower." You reply simply.

His eyes light up and he grins when he hears you speak. "Oh my god. You're so cute." He laughs, then looks over to Schlatt, who tosses a bit in his sleep.

"Can… Can you let me out? P-Please?" Your shaking slowly lessens, realizing that Quackity probably doesn't have the same intentions as Schlatt does. His eyes snap back to you. There's now pity in them.

"Oh… uh… I-I can't," he rubs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. He… He would kill me if I did that." You wince at the second realization that it's not gonna be easy getting out of here. You sigh and slump down into the corner of the glass container, rubbing your face.

"It's okay! He's not as bad as he seems once you get to know him. You might like him! Eventually…!" He gives you a little smile. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)." You hesitate a moment. "You're less scary than him. Thanks for being… nicer."

He grins again. "What are you talking about? I'm very intimidating! I'm way taller than you." He stands up to his normal height, his shadow falling over you. A shiver runs down your spine.

"Okay, okay! You're scary too!" You giggle nervously, and he laughs.

"It's alright (Y/n), I promise nobody's gonna hurt you, not on my watch." As if on cue, Schlatt stirs from the bed, making Quackity cringe as he sits up.

"Quackity? You better not be touching the little thing in the glass that I found. I'll kick your ass." Schlatt grumbles and yawns. You try to make yourself smaller in the little corner you've claimed as he gets up, stretching even taller as he approaches Quackity and the glass container.

"No, I haven't touched her."

"Good. Don't. It's mine."

"Where did she come from?"

Schlatt is fully awake once he asks that question, grinning. "Well, apparently our little visitor here came straight from L'manburg! Isn't that cute?" He sneers in your direction.

Quackity's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, what? You're from L'manburg?!" You saw his pity again. "You didn't tell me that."

You cringe. "It… It didn't come up-"

"Oh! You two've been talking! What did it tell you, Big Q?" When Schlatt looks at you, all you see is malice.

"Just… her name… and what she is…?" He fidgets nervously.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"Please don't-"

"Ah ah ah! Shush! Go ahead, Quackity!"

Quackity gives you an apologetic look. "Her name is (Y/n). She's a borrower." With that, Schlatt's face lights up like a Christmas tree, and he starts laughing maniacally.

"So…! You lied to me, huh?" He catches his breath after laughing. "I didn't even care much for your name, but what the fuck's a 'borrower' and how many of you little rats are around here?" He rests his weight on his hands, placed in front of you behind the glass. You start shaking again.

You push yourself away from him. "I didn't lie! I-I haven't seen anyone else around in years. I don't know. There's nobody else here or in L'manburg." You ramble, looking anywhere and everywhere but his face.

"Schlatt, c'mon man, you're scaring her." Quackity tries to push him back, but Schlatt slaps his hand away. Your eyes widen- that much force on you would kill you instantly, but it was practically nothing to them.

"Don't touch me. What I do with her is none of your business. I found her."

"Yes it is! I'm not gonna let you hurt her when she can't do anything to you!" Quackity yells back, taking Schlatt by surprise.

"She's from L'manburg! She could easily be Wilbur's little bitch sent here to get information!" Who's Wilbur?

"She doesn't know anybody. She's innocent, just leave her alone, man!"

"Fine." Schlatt steps over to your glass container, and opens the top. His hand reaches in and fills up your entire field of vision. You squeak in fear and push yourself back into your corner.

Since you made it hard for him, Schlatt has to pick you up between his thumb and index finger, on your stomach and back respectively. You squirm at first, but you grab on tight as your stomach drops when he lifts you up and out of the container. "No no no! Please!"

"If you want to protect her, then here, catch." Within a second, you're flying through the air, screaming your lungs out. You gasp when you land on your back onto a warm, plushy surface, frozen in shock, mouth agape.

"Schlatt what the fuck! You can't just do that to her, she's tiny!"

"Too late. She's your problem now, anyways."

Quackity protectively holds you close to his chest, shielding you as Schlatt walks by him and down the stairs. "If you let her run free to Wilbur I'm gonna hunt her down!" You both hear the front door slam shut.

#mcyt #mcyt gt #giant!schlatt #giant!quackity #tiny!reader #schlatt #quackity #friend writes #I love their writing so I hope you all love it too #they do the concept so well #the next part theyre writing is coming along awesomely as well

[ladyfenring]

i’m in the dark

Aethelflaed needs a date. Aldhelm is just the man for the job.

Rated T

written for @tlkfanficfest bingo

read it on ao3 if you wish

“So, let me get this straight.” Aldhelm folds his hands on top of the table. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for a party, not because you are trying to make your ex jealous, but because you don’t trust yourself around him?”

“Basically,” Aethelflaed admits, blushing guiltily.

“And...what am I supposed to do? Throw myself in your path if it looks like you’re going to hit on him?”

“ I’m not really worried about me initiating anything,” she says slowly. “I’m more worried that Erik will make a move and I’ll do something desperate.”

“I see,” Aldhelm says wryly. “So if he sees you with someone, he won’t hit on you, and you won’t be tempted into desperation.”

“Exactly!”

He considers her. “Are you sure you want me to be your fake boyfriend? I mean, will I really stop him from hitting on you? I’m sort of a…”

“Dweeb?”

“Ouch.”

She smiles. “Sorry. But, to answer your question, yes. Erik is a good guy. He wouldn’t try to get between a couple.” She sips her tea. “Uhtred and Aethelred, on the other hand….”

“They’re both going to be there?”

“It’s a very small world,” she says wryly. “But I’m not in danger of doing something desperate with Aethelred, and Uhtred is one of those men who wouldn’t hit on another man’s girlfriend, if that makes sense, even if that man is, well…”

“A dweeb?”

“I was going to say a beta male.”

“I wish you’d stuck with dweeb.”

They both laugh, but as Aldhelm picks up his coffee, he wonders.

Personally, he doesn’t think that his presence is likely to stop Erik, or Uhtred, or even Aethelred from making a move on Aethelflaed if they really wanted to. He is, as she so bluntly reminded him, a dweeb. They won’t see him as a threat.

But that isn’t why he has reservations.

He has reservations because Aethelred knows—or at least suspects—that Aldhelm is in love with Aethelflaed.

Ironically, Aethelred had been his friend long before Aethelflaed had entered the picture. He hadn’t given Aethelflaed much thought when she started dating Aethelred; he was polite to her, as he was to all of Aethelred’s girlfriends, but he knew she wouldn’t last long, because none of Aethelred’s girlfriends did.

And she didn’t last long, but she did come back, desperate for someone, even Aethelred, to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.

Aethelred, in typical Aethelred fashion, was not interested in her heart, and without even meaning to, she had turned for solace to the only person who was kind enough to listen to her:

Aldhelm.

He’d listened—patiently, if slightly disinterestedly, at first—and before long, he’d found himself falling hopelessly, pathetically, and irreversibly in love with her.

“You’re so easy to talk to,” Aethelflaed had told him over coffee once, and he hadn’t had the courage to tell her that it was because listening to her talk was the highlight of his week.

Aethelred had figured it out eventually, but rather than being upset, he’d been relieved.

“Thank God,” he’d said. “You can fuck her and I can accuse her of cheating and we can break up.”

“Why can’t you just break up with her sans accusations of cheating?” Aldhelm had asked, askance.

Aethelred had rolled his eyes. “Because I want her to feel like she wronged me, so that someday when she’s feeling low, she’ll come crawling back for a pity fuck. She won’t do that if I break up with her just because I got bored of her.”

“I do believe,” Aldhelm had said, “that you are a sociopath.”

Aethelflaed had been the one to end things, and she’d taken Aldhelm with her in the breakup…but before he could summon the courage to tell her how he felt, she’d moved on to Uhtred, and by the time she and Uhtred had ended things, Aldhelm had come to cherish their friendship too much to risk it with his own feelings.

But Aethelred doesn’t know that. Aethelred might say something at the party, and then she’d realize Aldhelm has been in love with her for years, and then he’d look like…

Well.

A dweeb.

But then again, if he didn’t go with her, and Aethelred said something anyway…

“So?” Aethelflaed asks a bit nervously. “Would you, ah, consider it?”

“I’ll do it,” he decides, ignoring the way his heart leaps at her smile. “But if my beta-y presence isn’t enough to deter your exes, I shan’t be held responsible.”

Aethelflaed laughs. “I think we’ll manage just fine.”

.

As the evening of the party draws closer, however, Aldhelm begins to wonder if he’s made a mistake. It’s quite one thing to go to a party with Aethelflaed, and it’s quite another to pretend to be her boyfriend for the duration of that party, especially if no less than three of her exes will be prowling about.

God. Three. One ex, he might be able to handle, but three? He’s supposed to just waltz into a party with Aethelred and Erik and Uhtred and pretend he’s in the same league as them?

He picks up his phone on Saturday to tell Aethelflaed he’s not sure if this is such a good idea, but to his shock, his phone buzzes with a messenger notification from her.

I can hear you thinking.

He laughs out loud, his anxiety momentarily assuaged.

You can hear me from two miles away?

Yes. And I know you too well. You’re having second thoughts.

He hesitates before responding, but she messages him again.

STOP. It’s going to be fine. I’m more nervous than you are.

He smiles at his phone.

Right, sorry. It is going to be fine, and I’m not going to back out.

I can still hear you thinking.

...I don’t know what to wear.

That navy blue sweater you got last fall.

He tells himself not to read into the fact that she remembers that sweater, which he had specifically bought because she said blue was a good color on him. Instead, he puts the phone down and forces himself to take a deep breath.

It’s. Going. To. Be. Fine.

.

Aldhelm meets Aethelflaed in front of her building, and together, they take the train to Finan and Eadith’s housewarming party. Aethelflaed carries a potted plant, as she insists a house isn’t really a home until it has a plant.

“It’s not a home, it’s a fifth floor walkup,” Aldhelm notes wryly.

“Even more of a reason why it needs to feel like a home,” Aethelflaed dismisses.

Aldhelm has to admit, the flat is nicer than he was expecting. He’d been to the flat that Uhtred, Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth had shared in their bachelor days, and it had set some low expectations for tonight. He’s pleasantly surprised, therefore, to find that there is real artwork on the walls, not just a single Inception poster, and that the furniture seems mostly new and in the same color scheme.

Eadith greets them warmly, exclaiming over the plant while her eyes flit calculatingly between the two of them. Aldhelm knows she’s too polite to ask questions—at least while he’s around. As soon as she gets Aethelflaed alone, though, he’s sure she’ll ply her with questions.

“Aethelflaed!” Finan exclaims, bounding over to greet the newcomers. He hugs her warmly, muttering something Aldhelm can’t hear, but he’s positive he hears the name “Uhtred.” “And Aldhelm!” he adds brightly, stepping back.

“Aethelflaed and Aldhelm brought us a plant!” Eadith tells him, but there’s a look in her eyes that Finan picks up on.

“Thank you both,” he says emphatically, wrapping an arm around Eadith’s waist.

“Aethelflaed says a house isn’t a home until it has a plant in it,” Aldhelm offers.

“Well, she’s right,” Eadith says. “Sihtric had the same idea, which is why our bedroom is currently being hotboxed.” She takes Aethelflaed’s hand. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”

Aldhelm watches her leave with a feeling of trepidation. Should he play the dutiful boyfriend and follow? Or would that be creepy?

It doesn’t matter, because Finan waggles his eyebrows at him. “So, you and Aethelflaed.”

Aldhelm can feel himself flushing slightly. “Ah, yes. We are...together.”

“I always thought there was something between you two,” the other man declares proudly.

“Ah, yes, well,” Aldhelm says, not sure what else to say. “I like the new place.”

Finan lights up even more at that, happy to talk about his new home--which, Aldhelm is not at all surprised to learn, was decorated almost entirely by Eadith. Finan can’t stop raving about her taste, and honestly, Aldhelm finds it kind of adorable. He’s enjoying Finan’s rundown of the artwork (local, which would explain why Aldhelm finds it so…not to his taste, but Finan seems proud of it) when an uncomfortably familiar voice exclaims, “Is that fucking Aldhelm?”

Aldhelm tries to keep the smile on his face when Aethelred appears, an unfortunate rosiness to his cheeks that Aldhelm knows means he’s been drinking. “Aethelred.”

“God, it’s been ages,” Aethelred declares, clapping Aldhelm on the back. “How’ve you been?”

To Aldhelm’s dismay, Finan quietly slips away, leaving him to fend for himself. He supposes he can’t blame the other man; he would also like to slip away from Aethelred.

“Oh, fine,” Aldhelm says politely. “How about you?”

“Fine. This party’s lame,” Aethelred laments.

Aldhelm cocks his head. “Not to be rude, but why are you…here?”

“Eadith’s brother is trying to suck up to me so my father will hire him,” Aethelred says smugly.

Aldhelm raises an eyebrow. “And you decided to go to your ex-girlfriend’s housewarming party because…?”

“I heard Aethelflaed was coming.” Aethelred grins. “Is she here? Have you seen her?”

Aldhelm stiffens. “I came with her, as a matter of fact.” And, feeling oddly small, he adds, “We’re together.”

Aethelred’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. “Is that a fact?” His grin widens. “Well, it only took you for-fucking-ever. You’ve been in love with her for how long now?”

Aldhelm doesn’t want to rise to the bait, but he knows he can’t let the question go unanswered. “A while,” he mutters.

“A while. You tosser, it’s been years. I really thought you two were gonna get together when she broke up with me; imagine my surprise when I found out she was dating Uhtred. I guess he’s more her type, though, isn’t he? I mean, he’s good-looking and charismatic, and you’re that creepy friend who’s always lurking, hoping to catch her between boyfriends. That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

Aldhelm can feel his jaw clenching. “No, not really.”

“Not really,” Aethelred repeats, but he’s grinning victoriously, knowing he struck a nerve. “I wonder…if I made a move on her tonight, do you think she’d go home with me? I mean, I’m sure you fulfill her emotional needs or whatever it is she was always going on about, but can you satisfy her—”

Aldhelm doesn’t quite know what possesses him, but suddenly he’s reaching for one of the framed multimedia pieces on the wall and smashing it over Aethelred’s head.

There’s a stunned silence, and then Finan, Uhtred, Sihtric, and Erik cheer loudly.

There’s a commotion as Eadith’s brother bundles a dazed (but mostly unharmed) Aethelred out of the flat and about thirteen people rush to clean up the broken glass. Aldhelm sputters an apology to his hosts, but Eadith waves a careless hand.

“I bought it at my friend’s art show out of pity, and it was worth every penny to see you smash it over Aethelred’s head.”

Finan nods in fervent agreement.

Aethelflaed appears at Aldhelm’s side. “Can I talk to you?” she asks softly.

He nods, following her into the bedroom. It reeks of weed, so much so that Aldhelm’s eyes begin to water as soon as Aethelflaed closes the door. He opens a window, letting in the cool night air.

“Why does Aethelred think you’ve been in love with me for years?”

Aldhelm freezes, pretending to be fascinated by something outside. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“I find that hard to believe. You were close to him. Until we broke up.” Aethelflaed’s voice is tinged with suspicion.

Aldhelm wonders if he could climb out of the window and flee into the night. Probably not. “You know how he is.”

“Aldhelm.”

Unwillingly, he turns to face her, ashen.

She’s staring at him, an unreadable look on her face. “Is there any truth to what he said?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There’s no denying it, not anymore. “I…have been in love with you for a while, yes,” he admits. “And Aethelred knew. In fact, he wanted me to make a move on you while you two were together so you would cheat on him and he would have an excuse to break up with you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “But you didn’t.”

“Well, no, I’m not an asshole.” He clears his throat. “I valued—I still value—our friendship, and I don’t want to ruin it with my stupid crush.” He clears his throat again. “I’m not…just some creepy guy lurking and trying to catch you between boyfriends. But if…my feelings make you uncomfortable…”

“Aldhelm.”

He falls silent, sure she’s going to tell him that he’s a creep, that she never would have asked him to pretend to be her date if—

She closes the space between them and kisses him.

It takes him a moment to recover, to realize that there hasn’t been a mistake, that she’s kissing him, before he remembers to kiss back.

“Does this mean,” he asks after a long moment, “you aren’t totally repulsed by my confession?”

“Not totally,” she teases, and kisses him again. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s get out of here.”

His heart leaps. “Really?”

“Unless there was more artwork you wanted to destroy.”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

Aethelflaed laughs, and leads him out of the room.

#aethelflaed x aldhelm #aldflaed #the last kingdom #tlkfanficfestbingo #fic by me

[iam93percentstardust]

For your prompt requests - SteveTony - Steve is Tony's bodyguard 💗

Fair warning, Tony is a bit of an asshole in this one because I think it probably took him some time to become a nicer person, even after Afghanistan

Also on ao3 here

~

It’s after the third assassin that Tony thinks something might be going on.

Kidnapping, assassination attempts, they’re all part and parcel of being a high profile, multi-billionaire who used to be the Army’s number one defense contractor. But he’s pretty sure that three attempts on his life in two weeks is a little high, even for someone like him who was named People’s Most Eligible Kidnappee three years in a row. Stupid Bruce making stupid comments to stupid reporters about how many times he gets stupidly kidnapped.

“What does Bruce know?” he grumbles. “He lives in stupid Gotham.”

He glances down at the latest would-be killer, knocked out by DUM-E with his favorite fire extinguisher, and nudges him with the toe of his shoe. “You’re not dead, are you? Cause that’s a lot of paperwork to fill out if you are and I think we all know how I feel about that.”

The assassin groans and twitches.

DUM-E helpfully sprays him with the fire extinguisher again.

Tony snickers and calls for Happy to come grab the assassin and haul him off to jail probably. Now that he’s thinking about it, it’s probably good that Pepper isn’t his Head of Security. She’s not nearly as nice as Happy is.

“Come on, Hap, you’re falling down on the job here,” he chides as Happy throws the guy over his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be the Head of Security. You’re not doing much securiting—securitizing—”

“Securing,” Happy says. “And you transferred me to Miss Potts a month ago.”

“Oh yeah.” He pouts for a moment. “Why did I do that?”

“Because you were trying to draw out Mr. Stane.”

“Right,” he says, mood falling. He’d forgotten about Obie—Obadiah—Stane. Doesn’t know how, it’s not like Stane was arrested only two weeks ago or anything. “Come on, Tony,” he mutters. That two weeks is sticking out in his mind for some reason. Two…weeks…two weeks. “Pull your head out of your ass. J?”

“Sir?”

“Am I right in thinking that the first assassin was two weeks ago?”

“Exactly thirteen days.”

“Right. And Stane was arrested when?”

“Court records show he was arrested fifteen days ago.”

He nods to himself. Two days between Stane’s arrest and the first assassin showing up. He’d be willing to be that that’s enough time both for Stane to put out a hit on him and for word to get around.

“Put in a call to our favorite SHIELD director, would you, J?” he asks.

He doesn’t hear the phone ringing—JARVIS would never be as common as that—but it’s still a good thirty seconds before he hears Nick Fury demand, “How did you get this number?”

“So you remember when you arrested Stane and you said the Ten Rings might have only been the beginning?” he asks without bothering to introduce himself. There’s a reason his nametag at conferences says You Know Who I Am instead of his actual name. Everyone knows who he is, especially the director of a major spy agency that Tony’s dad helped found.

Fury’s silent for a moment. “How many assassins?” he asks eventually.

This is why Tony likes him. No nonsense, no frills, just a straight-up question. “Three so far.”

“And I’ll bet more are on the way,” Fury says grimly. Tony doesn’t bother agreeing. They both know Fury’s right. “I’m sending an agent to you.”

“What? No, absolutely not,” he protests. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Clearly you do.”

“No,” he says stubbornly. “I’ll just send them back.”

“You do that. Send back as many agents as you like. And I’ll keep sending more until you stop. Hopefully, you won’t be dead by then.”

Tony scowls and hangs up.

~

He rejects the first agent just on principle. He refuses to have anyone who looks as boring as Agent Coulson does anywhere around him.

~

He rejects the second one after two days because he’s pretty sure she’s sending information about him back to Fury. He’s already had one gorgeous lady steal corporate secrets from him. He doesn’t need Natasha Romanoff doing the same thing almost fifteen years later.

~

He actually likes Agent Barton but Pepper takes one look at him and flatly says, “No.”

“Aww why not?” Clint whines.

“I have enough to deal with. I don’t need you encouraging Tony to blow up the house on top of it.”

Yeah, that’s probably fair.

~

The fourth one, unlike the other agents Fury has sent, is actually already in his house by the time Tony gets back after his dinner with Rhodey. “Security breach! That’s on you,” he says snidely to Pepper who’s standing beside the man, explaining the Jackson Pollock painting in front of them, the one that Tony thinks looks like a mess but Pepper is enthralled by.

“Tony!” Pepper says with that smile that tells him to behave. “This is Agent Rogers. SHIELD sent him.”

Tony glances at him and then narrows his eyes. He points at him with the stylus of the tablet he’d been using. “I know you. Why do I know you?” he asks.

Agent Rogers blushes—pretty blush, Tony notes absently—but valiantly says, “I was on the team that rescued you in Afghanistan.”

Oh yeah. Now he remembers that insane shoulder-to-waist ratio. “That’s right. You were the one with the shield.” And the one who had picked him back up after Yinsen had been hit but he doesn’t like to think about that. “The new Captain America.”

“That’s me,” Rogers agrees.

“Fury ever tell you Howard used to work with the last one? About broke his heart when he found the guy frozen to death.”

“Tony!” Pepper snaps.

He winces. He swears he’s trying to be a better person, even if he doesn’t always succeed. “Sorry. That was insensitive, wasn’t it?”

Rogers opens his mouth but Pepper beats him to it. “Yes, it was.”

“Sorry,” he mutters again. “I’m trying.”

Pepper just glares at him but Rogers’ face softens. “Steve Rogers, sir,” he says, holding out his hand.

Tony glances at it and shoves his own into his pocket. “Yeah, I don’t like to be handed things.”

To his credit, Rogers doesn’t even hesitate, just says, “Alright then. Any questions for me?”

“Star Wars or Star Trek?” he says immediately.

“Well, they’re not really comparable, are they?” Rogers says without missing a beat. “Just because they both have ‘star’ in the name doesn’t mean they’re related to each other.”

“They’re both set in space,” Tony points out but inwardly he’s delighted. He would have accepted Star Trek as an answer but this is better than he could have hoped for.

Rogers doesn’t look impressed. “One of them is about science and exploration and the other is about imperialism and war. They’re not the same.”

Tony grins and tells Pepper, “I think we’re going to get along just fine.” He turns back to Rogers. “Tony Stark but everyone calls me Tony. Except for Pepper. She calls me ‘What did I do to deserve this?’”

Rogers laughs, a bright smile lighting up his gorgeous face. Tony tells himself that his heart doesn’t flutter but it resolutely does anyway, that traitor. “Steve Rogers but everyone calls me Steve. Except for my best friend. He calls me a punk.”

“Are you?”

“Absolutely. Doesn’t mean he’s gotta be a jerk about it.”

A slowly dawning look of horror is spreading across Pepper’s face and he thinks she might be realizing that Steve is probably gonna be even worse than Barton was. Too bad. She’s the one who sent him away.

“Steve,” Tony says. “Welcome to the team.”

“Pleasure to be working with you, Tony.”

#alle writes #alle answers #tony stark #pre-relationship #if you like please consider reblogging #missmoodybear

[dolce-peach]

Hi! I really like your mcu fanfiction! Could you do a fanfic where the reader is an avenger and loves to paint and daydream and once she first meets Loki she falls head over heels and secrets dreams abt him and sketches and paints his portraits and he finds out. Hope you have a good rest of your day :)

unspoken

pairing: loki x avenger!reader

warnings: fluff, fluff, and more fluff oml

a/n: honestly this was the fluff i needed to write in the midst of my sad life 😂😭 hope you guys like it!

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

----

Once again, you got carried away sketching on your paperwork.  This time, it was Steve and Tony arguing over something petty while the mission meeting progressed.  You leaned into your arm, your pen pretty much moving on its own.

“Anyways, before I was rudely interrupted,” Steve started as he sent a playful glare at Tony, “does everyone understand their role?”

Everyone nodded.

You continued shading in various parts of the quick sketch, further capturing lifelike qualities.  The annoyance in Steve’s gaze.  The defiance in Tony’s eyes.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, setting your pen down.  “Sorry.  Yeah?”

“Do you understand your role for the mission?” Steve repeated.

You sent an apologetic smile.  “Aye, Cap’n.”

As the meeting ended, you collected your strewn papers with slight embarrassment.  It wasn’t the first time you were caught with your head completely in the clouds.  

You couldn’t help it.  Sketching helped you concentrate, as strange as that sounded, and when you had time, painting helped you take your mind off of things.  Healthy extracurricular activities that were relaxing were hard to come by, especially for a combat and stealth agent like yourself.

You made your way back to the common room, where everyone was crowding around Thor and someone else.

“Thor, you can’t just bring him here,” Steve said.  

Tony snorted.  “Yeah, what if he destroys half of New York again?  Guess who’d have to clean that up?  Me.”

“Oh, please,” Natasha groaned, rolling her eyes.  “You give yourself way too much credit.”

“No offense, but I’m not a big fan,” Clint said, eyeing the newcomer anxiously.

Bruce cowered behind Clint.  “Me too.”

“Of who?” you asked.

Everyone turned to see you standing there, your curiosity piqued.  They slowly backed away, revealing someone you’ve only heard about.

“Loki,” you breathed.

He stood in all his godly glory, adorned in his green and black robes, hints of gold making everything vivid.  He stood tall over you, making you shrink a bit at his bravado.

He smirked.  “That would be me.”  His eyes scanned you.  “And who might you be?”

“Y/N.”

“And she can kick your ass,” Tony added helpfully.

Steve sent a warning look.  “Language.”

Tony held his hands up in defeat, everyone laughing.  

Loki kept his eyes on you with interest.  You had to break away from his intense gaze, or you felt you might be eaten alive.

--

When you got done with training that day, you found yourself sitting on the balcony overlooking the night streets.  You were snuggled up in a thick sweatshirt with your pencil and sketchbook.  

You sighed happily.  

If you had to describe your ideal night, it would be this.  No missions to complete.  No errands to run.  No one to meet or please.

Just you and your imagination.

As per usual, you let your pencil draw for itself.  

You smiled a bit to yourself, seeing the rough shapes coming together to form Loki’s structure.  You began putting some fine lines in before shading ever so softly.

You’d been thinking about him the entire day.  Other than the mischievous look in his eyes, he hardly seemed like the egotistic maniac who destroyed most of New York.  Instead he looked gentle and reserved, taking in the world quietly, all while perhaps having a slightly sadistic sense of humor.

You shook your head.  You didn’t care what the others had to say about him.  You were determined to get to know him while he was here with Thor.

With your head full and your heart satisfied, you decided to brew yourself a cup of tea before heading back inside to retire for the night.  

You filled the kettle and started the stove.  You nearly jumped when you heard the fridge open behind you.  

“Do all you humans drink such revolting liquid?” Loki asked, holding up a can of soda.

“Depends on what brand you drink,” you answered.  “Would you like tea?”

He paused.  “Yes, please.”

As he put the soda can back, you reached for two cups in the cupboard and scooped some non-caffeinated tea into a couple strainer balls.  You placed them in the cups and carefully poured the boiling water, watching it swirl and change colors.

When it finished brewing, you removed the strainers and slid Loki a cup across the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” came his quiet response.

You grinned.  “No problem.”

You sipped your tea, and looked at him again before laughing.

He blushed.  “What’s so funny?” he asked defensively.

“Nothing!” you laughed.  “I just never expected to see a god in sweatpants and a t-shirt.”

“Well, it’s quite comfortable,” Loki argued.  “And you didn’t expect me to stay dressed like that all the time, did you?”

“I suppose not,” you said, leaning against the counter.

It was quiet as the two of you finished your cups of tea.  You took his empty cup and rinsed it in the sink.

You smiled to yourself.  He really isn’t as bad as everyone says he is.

He stood awkwardly against the counter.  “Um, thank you again.”

You shook your head.  “Anytime.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?”

You blinked.  “Hm?”

“Well...”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “Usually people scream or glare or something.  They think I’ll kill them the next instant or freeze them forever.”

“I don’t think you’re so bad,” you said.  “Misunderstood, yes, but you’re not a bad guy.”

A blush colored his cheeks as he looked away.  

“Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow, Loki,” you said with a smile.

He snapped out of his momentary daze.  “Yeah.  Have a good night...Y/N.”

As you began walking away, you couldn’t help but widen your smile, feeling your heart beating a bit harder.

--

The next week was utterly exhausting.  Each of you used your abilities to the very max hunting down Hydra bases and the likes.  

Having Loki fight with you all was strange for everyone.  The Avengers always made sure to keep him in check, but you had no doubts about his loyalty, especially as you got to know him more.  

There were also things unseen and unsaid.  

You’d often catch him stealing glances at you, and you didn’t mind at all.  It was almost like he was afraid you were going to disappear.  

He’d come up to your room late at night with a cup of tea and stay into the early hours of the morning.  Sometimes you’d talk, and sometimes you just watched the cars move up and down the street.

You’d become best friends with the god of mischief.

It wasn’t until you started dreaming about him that you discovered you were also in love with him.

Loki became your sole subject for your sketches.  You loved capturing his many different expressions, especially the looks of varying annoyance.

Eventually, you gathered enough courage to begin a painted portrait of him.  You were determined to show everyone how you saw him: vivid, charming, lovely, protective.  

You used so many colors, a color for each bit of life in his expression.

As you painted, you got so lost in what you were doing, you didn’t hear Loki walk in behind you.

He silently studied you painting for a few minutes, taking it all in.

“What are you doing?”

“Jesus!” you yelped, nearly dropping your brush.  Your cheeks grew hot as you tried to cover your work.  “N-nothing!”

Loki laughed, catching you off guard.  “I’ve been watching you the past few minutes.”

“Really?” you squeaked.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You looked like you were concentrating.  I didn’t want to interrupt,” he said.  “And I was enjoying watching you work.”

At this point, you were a red tomato.  You had no idea why you were freaking out so much.  It was just a painting of a friend.

A friend you wanted to be something more to.

“I’m flattered,” he continued.  He eyed the sketches of himself strewn all over your desk.  “You drew more?”

“Yeah, but they’re not much...” you trailed off as you shuffled them around a bit.  “I mean, it’s just a relaxing hobby of mine...”

He carefully picked up some pieces, his eyes filled with admiration.  “These are really amazing, Y/N.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course!”  He furrowed his eyebrows.  “But why me?”

“What do you mean?”

He nodded.  “Wouldn’t it be nicer to sketch someone like my brother?  Or one of your Earth friends?”

“I guess, but they’re not you.”

You were your reddest, if that was even possible at that point.  

Loki took a moment before smiling.  “If you insist.”  He let out a small laugh.  “If you want, I could model for you some time.”

Your eyes sparkled.  “Really?”

He played with your hair.  

“Anything for you.”

part 2

#anonymous #request #soft loki #loki #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x you #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #cameo #steve rogers #tony stark #natasha romanoff #clint barton #bruce banner #thor #fluff

[if-found-return-to-gusu]

The Other Shoe

(OOC: Mild content warning. WWX is spiraling here. No threat of self harm but dealing with severe risk of mental shut down)

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

I’m not ready to talk about this.

I don’t know. 

I should have seen this coming. There really was no other way this could end.

So the other shoe dropped. It just wasn’t on the foot I was expecting. 

I’m… I’m probably being dramatic. 

But I didn’t expect it to hurt this much. 

Maybe it was because I actually didn’t see this coming. At least not now. 

---

I’m okay if I’m not alone. But I can’t expect someone to babysit me.

I don’t mean like I’m gonna do anything to myself or anything….. But actually that’s the problem.

I’m not going to do anything. Nothing. Just like before.

That time too.. This was why…

I’m not ready to talk about this. 

But I have to talk about it. 

The day… I was so nervous but I was so happy. And at first it went so good. 

It was Jiang Cheng’s birthday, which meant it was going to be the opposite of mine. A fancy shindig. A how-to-do of the who’s who.

But for the first time in years his parents weren’t going to be there. Uncle Jiang was out of the country and Madam Yu was off at a charity event. Apparently Jiang Cheng and Shijie had convinced her not to cancel because the publicity would be better for her to be at the event than at his birthday. 

I haven’t been to one of these since… well since before I was kicked out even. They took me to some sometimes when they needed to use me as a prop to show how generous they were but it was never one I wanted to go to. And it was never his or Shijie’s birthdays. 

We’d hold our own parties anyway. Just the three of us off by the lotus ponds. Those… those were the best. We were happy. 

I bought a suit. It’s ruined now. But I bought one. I bought it with my own money. Not the birthday money. Can’t bring myself to touch that. I bought it with my own money. 

It’s ruined now. 

Sorry I already wrote that.

I bought it for the party. I didn’t want to be an embarrassment. I was finally getting to be with my family. My family. 

I’m an embarrassment. I tried so hard. But of course I ruined everything anyway. 

I’m nobody. Nothing. 

I should never have…. 

To think I thought I might actually find a place there. 

Not with the rich folks. I know that I won’t fit there. But with Jiang Cheng. In his real circle. In his real life. 

But I’m… I can’t be there. I’m a shadow on the sidelines of his life. Someone who just shows up and breaks everything. 

I’ve probably made things so much worse for him. 

I never should have gone to that party. I shouldn’t have answered when he called me. I shouldn’t have let him find me at all. 

All of the Jiangs… they’re better without me blackening their name. They didn’t really ask for me. They just needed a kid. Any kid would do. And they were unlucky enough to be landed with me. I should have stayed in the system. 

I should have run away.

I should have….

No no stop it. This is the spiral I’m trying to avoid! No Stop it!

-----

Sorry. Sorry. This is just… It’s not as bad as it was before. Before I had nothing. I have so much now. I have the Wens. And the Lan brothers. And new treasured memories with my siblings and my niece and nephew. Even if I probably won’t get any more. Even if… even if this is all I’ll get I’ll treasure each stolen moment. 

It’s not as bad as when Wen Qing found me. But it FEELS like it. Just… everything she said to me… everything is rushing back. And it’s just like it was before. 

But no it’s not. I’m not 18 anymore. It’s been 10 years. 11. I’m not some poor kid with no connections or money. I’m not alone. 

I’m not alone

I’m not alone 

I am not alone. 

I. Am. Not. Alone.

Keep saying it. Keep saying it. Remind yourself. Put it on a piece of paper. Paste it on the walls. 

I am not alone. 

I’m okay. I’m home alone. And it’s okay. I’ll post this so I can be okay. 

Even if I’m alone in my apartment it doesn’t mean I’m alone.  

I’m not alone. I’m not unloved. I’m not without family. 

I need to remember this now while I’m in the light so I can remember it in the dark. 

Okay. Okay. 

I bought a suit so I could go to the party. Jiang Cheng offered to buy one for me but I didn’t let him. He probably would have bought a nicer one, but I think I did an okay job. I didn’t stick out like a sore thumb at least. 

Everything started out so well. I got a lift to the place and managed to get myself inside with my own golden ticket. 

(Yes i know. Invitations to a birthday party. Legit invitation only access. Rich people are just like that™.

But I got in. And there they were. Jiang Cheng was looking smart in royal purple. Never have seen anyone who could pull off that color as well as him. Shijie was next to him in a lovely lilac dress to match him. She’d left her kids at home with her husband. I could see her baby bump. She looked stunning.

And they looked…. They were happy to see me. Jiang Cheng bumped my shoulder and said he was surprised I actually showed up and that he was afraid he’d have to collect me himself. 

I wanted to give him a noogie. Didn’t.

I wasn’t going to ruin this. 

I did anyway. But not yet. Not yet. 

Most of the party went fine. I mingled with some people. Lan Xichen was there. It’s always nice to see him. He’s so pleasant to talk to and seems at home with the mindless smalltalk. His poker face is on point. Nie Huaisang was there which was a very welcome sight after all the gold bars dancing around pretending they gave two shits about my shidi. I didn’t seek him out too much though. We always end up giggling and drawing attention when we’re together. I couldn’t afford to fuck this up. I was determined.

He seemed to understand. Huaisang, you’re a great friend. You really are. I’m sorry… 

Ugh. 

Okay 

It was all going smoothly even if it was a bit dull. There was some elevator music going on and like expensive champagne flutes being carted around. I didn’t take any even though I wanted to down the lot to try and calm my fucking nerves.

People were mingling. Mindless chatter. Meaningless pleasantries. Congratulations, Jiang Wanyin. To your health, Jiang Wanyin. All the Best, Jiang Wanyin. 

I wonder how many would have even remembered his name if it hadn’t been on the invitation. 

But I was doing well until the gold-painted cinder block parading as a gold bar showed up. 

JIn… Zi something. I refuse to remember his name. Jin ZiXuan’s shitty cousin. The one who makes the peacock seem like the greatest guy in the world to hang out with. The guy whose flunkies stabbed me. Captain Constipation himself. 

I managed to make it the first couple hours without bumping into him. Because of course he’d be there. All the great families were there and he is, unfortunately, pretty high up on the Jin food chain. 

It was almost dinner time. I know that. We were gonna be shuffling off to the dining room.I was headed that way when he slammed into me “accidentally’ spilling his drink all over me. It wasn’t champagne. It was something made to stain. My suit is ruined. That’s not important. 

He did some fake apology. Then started going off about he’s surprised I was there. Surprised I was let in with such a tacky suit. Didn’t know this event let in nobodies. 

I took it until he started going in on Jiang Cheng. Saying if he was willing to associate with the lowest of the low like me then what was he really worth. 

I tried. I wanted to just get past him but he wouldn’t let me. 

I got a bit more forceful but I wasn’t gonna hit him. I knew better. I wasn’t gonna hit him because that’s what he wanted. But I had to get past him. So I pushed a little. 

And apparently that was enough. He had a couple flunkies (Not the one that stabbed me) come grab at me, saying he was gonna press charges and that he was gonna have to burn his suit to get the poor off of it and that I needed to reimburse him. 

Something tore as I tried to get at him. I’d had enough. He wasn’t gonna let me go without a fight then he was gonna get his fucking fight. It didn’t matter anymore. The ruckus was starting to draw people back out from the dining room. He wasn’t exactly being quiet. And then neither was I. 

I just wanted to leave. That’s all I wanted to do. I wasn’t even gonna go to the dinner. I was just gonna text Jiang Cheng that something came up and thanks for inviting me and happy birthday and I was gonna go. 

But then

I hadn’t seen her in 10 years. 

She’s still just as terrifying.

Madam Yu. 

Jin Zixun let me go all of a sudden and I knew something was up. And then I heard him bow to someone behind me. All dignified respectability. And when I looked there she was. 

I don’t even know how she found out I was even there. 

She screamed at me. She always screamed at me. Jiang Cheng came out then at the sound of his mother’s voice. 

He tried to defend me. But there is no defence against Madam Yu. And she didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. 

I’m nothing but trouble. I cause pain and disruption wherever I go. I can’t help it. I’m a walking disaster. Eventually I find a way to ruin everything. I can’t even go to a party without someone I’ve managed to piss off finds me. 

I don’t know when to shut up. I don’t know how to behave. I am a spot on Jiang Cheng’s reputation. 

How dare I contact her son? How dare I take advantage of his kind heart. 

Jiang Cheng tried to defend me. 

It just made it worse.

Because I am a parasite. I take and I take and what do I have to give back? Nothing.

What can I possibly do to repay the kindness others have given me? Nothing.

Nothing I can do will be enough. I can’t pay back my debt. 

I’m only alive at all through the kindness of others and I repay them only with shame. 

She screamed and screamed but never raised her voice. She is too dignified for that. But all the same she was screaming. 

She found out that Jiang Cheng had got me my phone. She smashed it on the ground. 

She blamed me for trying to poison her son against her. 

Apparently… Apparently he had talked to her after he read my blog. I didn’t know that. 

I hadn’t meant for him to find out but he did. And they fought.

I’m just making things worse for the Jiangs. I’m just creating tension where there doesn’t need to be any. If I’d just stayed away… 

She told me….

She told me if I ever went near her son again she would file a restraining order. She told me that she would have me imprisoned if she had to. She told me that I was a disgrace.

I ran. 

I ran and ran.

I think I heard some people run after me. 

I was faster. 

I ran. 

Just like before I ran. 

Just like before. 

This was just like before. 

Why did I not see this coming? 

Jiang Cheng had to sell his apartment. He’s not allowed to come to Gusu for anything not directly related to business. 

He’s not allowed to see me. 

I’m not allowed to see him. 

I ran. 

I’ve made everything worse again. 

I thought it had been long enough. Jiang Yanli is successfully married off just like Madam Yu wanted. Jiang Cheng is following his father’s footsteps and he’s flourishing just like Madam Yu wanted.

I thought just… just one party would be safe. I see them so little. But it was too greedy. 

I’m always too greedy. 

I take. All I do is take. 

I have nothing worth giving. So I take and take and take. 

I… I ran home first. I think I took a bus but I don’t remember most of the trip. I don’t know how long I was there. I was starting to shut down already. It didn’t happen that fast before. It was more than just Madam Yu before. Before I was lost and alone and starving. I was sick. I had tried to fight for a long time before I started shutting down.

I’m so pathetic I can’t even handle a scolding now. I’m so weak. I’m not sick. I’m not homeless. I’m not alone. And still I can feel it looming. 

I’m afraid to be alone because if I slip back under I don’t know if I’ll come back out. 

I’m scared. 

I’m scared.

So I ran again. As soon as I realized what was happening I ran. 

I didn’t have a way to contact him. I just ran and ran and ran. 

I should have called a car. Or at least taken my skateboard. I didn’t think of it. I couldn’t think

I couldn’t think of anything except that I needed him. I needed to not be alone. 

So I ran. 

By the time I showed up at Lan Zhan’s house I honestly felt like I was dying. I could hardly breathe and there was a stitch in my side so sharp I almost felt like I’d been stabbed again. 

But that was good. That kept me aware. It kept me moving. It kept me from shutting down. 

I all but slammed on his door. He looked so shocked. He looked scared. 

I… I don’t really remember a lot of it. I know I was at the door and then suddenly I was in his lap on the couch. And I was sobbing like a baby. A graceless wail. Shuddering, jerking sobs. 

I don’t know how long I was there. I know we talked. I think I tried to tell him what happened but I didn’t want to think about it. I couldn’t think about it. 

I probably made no sense. Probably just scared him even more. 

I calmed down eventually. Somewhat anyway. Externally at least. 

He was so gentle with me. Even though I burst in on his night. Even though there had to be a million things he’d rather have been doing. Lan Zhan is so good. He’s too good to me. 

I don’t deserve it. 

He said something to me. I don’t remember anymore but I know I responded reasonably. But he was so gentle. I started crying again and he just let me. He comforted me. 

At some point he wrapped me up in a blanket and he put Suibian in my lap. That helped for a minute. She’s so sweet. She’s at least one creature in this world I can do something good for. Even if it’s just helping feed her and pet her where she likes.  

He left to make me some hot chocolate. Hot chocolate that he only has in his apartment because I like it. He doesn’t drink it.

I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve any of this. 

I don’t deserve anything.

I’m not worth it. Not worth it. 

I should have left but I couldn’t get myself to move. I think I was still petting Suibian. I don’t remember. I don’t… I don’t know what happened there but the next thing I was aware Lan Zhan was in front of me, looking slightly panicked. 

He said something but I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t respond.

He sat next to me and pulled me close. 

It helped. I started to talk

I tried to tell him what happened. I didn’t make any sense. 

He must have understood some of it though. He was shaking.

Was he angry? Did he agree with her? Did he finally realize how worthless I am? How I’ll only ever drag him down? 

He pulled away from me. Clearly he was disgusted. 

I panicked. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want to be alone.

I begged him to stay with me. I was panicking. I didn’t know what I’d do if he left me then. I was so scared. 

Please. Please. Please. 

Don’t leave me alone.

“Not alone. Never alone. I promise,” he said.

He sat back down. And I sobbed again.

I cried and cried and cried. I think he held me again. I think I remember being on his lap.

I cried and cried and cried until eventually I fell asleep.

But sleep was okay. Sleep was safe. Sleep is a reprieve. I won’t stop if I’m asleep.

I’m afraid of stopping. Not of sleeping. Sleep was safe.

Especially with Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan is safe. Lan Zhan keeps me safe.

Lan Zhan won’t leave me alone. 

He promised. 

I slept and slept and slept. 

I don’t remember falling asleep but I remember waking up in Lan Zhan’s bed. He was holding me. It was sunny outside. Peering through the window. 

Everything was fuzzy. My mind, my vision, my nerves. Everything was buzzing. My eyes were sore. My head was throbbing. 

Lan Zhan was there. He promised he wouldn’t leave me alone. Lan Zhan is safe. Lan Zhan is honest. Lan Zhan keeps his promises. 

Lan Zhan promised me I wouldn’t be alone. So I’m not alone. 

I twisted so I could bury my face in his chest. I could feel his strength under his sleep shirt. I could feel his heart beating against my skin.

Thump-bum. Thump-bump. Thump-bum.

I focused on that sound. 

He asked me what I wanted to eat. I could feel his voice shaking around in his chest.  I didn’t want to eat anything. The thought of it twisted my stomach. It made an unpleasant noise. I didn’t want to eat. I just wanted to sleep more.

Sleep was safe. Lan Zhan was safe. I was warm and secure. I just wanted to sleep.

But then he mentioned that Qin Su had made my favorite chocolate turnovers. 

ANd I realized

Work. We were late for work! I’d fucked up again. God Damnit.

I shot up. I couldn’t keep ruining things! 

Lan Zhan said that we didn’t have work today. That he’d had it covered. 

I told him he couldn’t just keep putting off work for me like this. 

He shook his head and repeated “Not today.” And then he looked at me and told me that it was a family emergency.

And… 

I think that broke me. 

It was too much. I do nothing but take but I couldn’t take this. I’d ruined one family already by trying to join it. I wouldn’t ruin him. 

I told him that we weren’t family. That I don’t have a family. 

I won’t have a family. I don’t want to ruin anyone else. 

I cried again I think. I don’t know for how long. I don’t know how I even had any tears left. 

He held me the entire time.

I cried. 

Eventually I ran out of tears again and even felt the knot in my stomach loosen enough that I thought I might be able to handle some food. 

Lan Zhan said he was gonna go get me something. I hadn’t eaten since the morning before. 

He got up to leave again. Because he can’t stay in front of me 24 hours a day. 

I know that

But I panicked again. 

I grabbed his arm. I just needed to make sure. Lan Zhan is safe, but I had to make sure. 

I asked him if he was going to come back.

He smoothed my hair away from my face and promised he would.

I nodded and forced myself to let go. He left for a moment. He just went down the hall. I could hear his footsteps. I sat there and listened. If I could still hear him I wasn’t alone yet. 

He came back quickly and dumped bunnies on the bed with me. Suibian and Bichen. 

It made me laugh a little. He actually got me to laugh. My chest felt lighter even for just that moment. 

Suibian curled up next to me right away. I had to coax Bichen over. She looked uncertain but eventually gave in. 

I laid on my side and she curled up against my tummy.

They helped. They helped for a little.

But…

I… My thoughts started to spiral again. I was slipping again.

I didn’t even realize Lan Zhan was back until all of a sudden he was holding me again.  I pressed closer to him. 

I wasn’t alone. 

I’m not alone. 

I’m not.

He told me he’d brought food. I eventually found the strength to sit up to eat them.

The chocolate turnovers that Qin Su made for me. One of my favorites.

I couldn’t taste them. But she made them for me. That wasn’t lost on me. She made them to make me feel better. 

I’m not alone. 

Lan Zhan pulled the hair tie out of my hair. Very carefully. And he started to brush my hair. I must have looked like a mess.

He was so careful and gentle. It felt so nice. 

He kept going even after he got all the tangles out.

I felt better. 

I thanked him for taking such good care of me but before I could finish that thought we hear---

JEEZUS FUCK. Sorry. There’s someone at the door??? Who would be here this late??

I’ll finish this later.

#wei ying #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #cql #mdzs #fic #Long Post #(Modern AU!)

[boringsofia]

Matchup for DBH, Atla and Monster prom please! I’m a fairly tall, gremlin of a bisexual person. I have ADHD, cuss a lot, I’m terrified of phone calls, am a generally creative person and have a talent for comforting people. I’m a pretty wacky person but come off as intimidating when I’m alone. I draw, play ukulele and guitar, cosplay and I’m part of my schools MUN. I’m a bit punk but also just a big softie. I have lots of plushies and love my cat and dog with my whole heart. Thanks in advance!!

Thank you for the request! Honestly, i relate to the fear of phone calls way to much 😔

For D:BH I ship you with...

Simon!

You were his 'owner' before the whole Revolution. The person who showed him that humans aren't as bad as they seem. His home.

At first he was just the normal caretaker android he is. Making sure you always took care of yourself and so on. But as time passed and continued to treat him like a human instead of a slave, he started to go deviant. You immediately noticed, of course. Once the Revolution ended and they were finally free, he immediately returned to you. And was the happiest he had ever been when your welcome back was a kiss. His favorite thing about you is undoubtedly your Creativity. It was one of the first things you showed him when he first moved in and he loves it. Every drawing you make, he will make sure to take a picture and memorize in his software. Your ADHD often makes him anxious because he knows how much it can affect you and bring your mood down. It was the maun reason you got him afterall. If you insist on not taking medication, he won't force you. He will be there to calm you down. To remind you of things you might forget. To keep you focused on the task at hand. He will be your medicine.

Simon loves you and everything about you. When the deviants at Jericho spoke badly of humans, he often retaliated because you were always on his mind. And you were everything but bad. You are his angel.

"I'm free. We can really be together now. Just like we always wanted, angel.."

For ATLA I ship you with...

Suki!

Believe it or not, you two met because of your kindness. She had had a tough day, everything was going completely different than they had planned and then there you appeared, comforting her as if she weren't a stranger.

After that little encounter, you two became inseparable. She taught you how to fight, you taught her how to play the ukulele and guitar. It was honestly a very affectionate and close connection from the get-go. When Gaang came around, she immediately pulled you into the whole mess with her. At first, you really thought she and Sokka had a thing but then out of nowhere, she came at you with a very long and deliberate love confession and you were absolutely ecstatic. A little confused, but very happy nonetheless. Especially when you heard Sokka cheering like the amazing wingman he is. Sukiloves your intimidating and punk exterior, it kinda goes along with her confident but welcoming vibe. Makes the perfect duo, as she says. Suki doesn't understand much about cosplay, it's all very new to her but she loves to just sit and watch you work on your costumes and makeup. The whole transition from yourself to the character you like is like a magic show to her and it always makes her look like a child looking at all the different candy at a candy store. Just pure heart eyes from her.

Throughout the whole journey, she always makes sure to keep an eye on you and to protect you. You mean the world to her and Suki would never forgive herself if something happened to you. Or worse.. if she lost you.

"The two of us together? Oh, we're UNSTOPPABLE!"

For Monster Prom I ship you with...

Damien!

Well.. where do I start. You guys met because he decided to be a total Asshole to you. But you happened to be very, VERY angry that day and absolutely demolished him. Soon enough, y'all were dating.

To be more exact, he thought your little outburst was really attractive and so, he started being nicer to you (very poorly though) and you two became friends. Eventually, he grew a pair and asked you out. It came as a surprise to everyone in the group honestly, but they supported it 100%. Damien is surprisingly very affectionate and sweet to his partner. Well, the sweet is to an extent, he's still an asshole but he never does or says anything that might hurt you in any way. Not only would he beat himself up but so would the others if he hurt you. He doesn't really get along with your pets. He hates that you show them so much affectionate and attention. Who needs them when you have him?? Yes.. he is a very jealous lover. Anyways, he's not the most patient being but when it comes to you, he has that patience of a saint. Especially if you're feeling bad because of your ADHD. You're afraid of phone calls? Don't worry, he'll call for you. But he won't promise it to have a good outcome. Or that you get your phone back intact. One of his favorite things to do with you is just ... cussing. Just cussing back and forth to see who can come up with the most creative cusses and insults. It's honestly hilarious to anyone who isn't used to it. But also a little terrifying...

This Himbo is an absolute sucker for you and he spoils you rotten. It all might have started with him bullying you but now... he will have anyone's head that dares even breathe weirdly in your direction. No joke. Please, hold him back, he might hurt someone-

"Did you fall from heaven? Cuz there is no fucking way someone as hot as you could be from there. I'm serious, have you seen those ugly ass angels, I'm not kidding they're fucking hideous- Babe, hey, WHERE ARE YOU GOING-"

#monster prom #monster prom damien #monster prom matchup #matchups #dbh matchup #dbh simon #detroit become human matchup #detroit become human #atla matchup #atla suki #aang the last airbender

[eloarei]

tl;dr and TW: I had a miscarriage (and an ER visit)

So, I haven’t been on tumblr for a while. Let’s see how long. ...Three and a half months. Basically, I haven’t been on since a little before I found out I was pregnant.  See, my birthday was January 28th. My last period had started on New Year’s Day, so I was slated to start again on my birthday, and I just kept thinking, “gosh, I would really like to not be on my period on my birthday!”  Well, I got my wish. A few days came and went, and I thought, “okay, I’m pregnant.” This wasn’t an overreaction; I’d never been more than 3 days late in the past few years, and I just... felt it. I took the test, and lo and behold, it was positive. A ‘dye-stealer’, even. (A strong positive, where the positive line ‘steals’ all the dye from the control line.) (I’ve spent a lot of time on pregnancy forums; I’m familiar with a whole new world now.)  I was happy. Mostly excited, mostly not scared. My husband was the same. We’d been married for 12 years with no kids, no prior pregnancies, and I’d thought for a few years that I probably did want kids-- it just... never happened. We were too careful, until we decided not to be. (Even then, we weren’t trying. We just let things do as they would.)  The next 6 weeks were interesting. It was... neat? Neat to feel all the minute changes. Every day I was so aware of my body and what was happening to it. Even though I was almost not showing at all (I could see a slight difference; nobody else would have), I felt so big, and I was exhausted, but it was kind of fun. It was fun thinking about having an October baby; maybe its birthday would end up on my husband’s, or my old bff’s. Maybe it’d be 10-15-20. I thought that would be cool. And I thought about names, about how we’d arrange the house, how we’d afford everything when we have such a habit of just squeaking by. I felt we were up for the challenge.  But I read a lot of information. SO MUCH information. So I knew there was a chance it wouldn’t work out. After all, roughly 1 out of every 4 known pregnancies ends badly. And there was no reason why I should miscarry, when I was healthy, and my family didn’t have a history of common miscarriages. But I wasn’t stupid, and I’ve never been the kind of person to say, “it won’t happen to me”.  I guess I was lucky that I read so much, that I knew things could go wrong, because they did. Even so, I wasn’t entirely prepared. I started bleeding around week 9, so I read an absolute ton about miscarriages. They all said it happened pretty quick-- maybe a few days of light bleeding before the ‘big event’, and that the event itself was painful-- AT LEAST like heavy period cramps. When I continued bleeding for over a week I thought “...maybe it’s not a miscarriage?” I read some more and determined it could have been a subchorionic hemorrhage-- bleeding in the uterus that is usually not fatal to the baby, often characterized by period-like bleeding: long, slow, not very painful.  The whole time I was trying to find a place to get an ultrasound. I don’t/didn’t have a doctor of my own, a primary care physician or an obstetrician. I’ve never really done doctors. Figured I’d wait until about the second trimester to find one, since my readings told me a lot of doctors waited til week 10+ for the first appointment anyway. Unfortunately, all the clinics I talked to wouldn’t deal with me when I mentioned I had some bleeding-- even though it was just a little bit! Less than a period. “Go to the ER”, they said, to which I responded that I absolutely was not going to go to the ER for a non-emergency when hospitals were stuffed with coronavirus patients.  Therefore, I just waited while I kept looking, hoping it would sort itself out.  In a way, it eventually did. Monday morning, as I was about to go to sleep (I work nights), I had some slightly heavier bleeding. Thought it might have been another small clot. Sat on the toilet for an hour before I felt woozy and decided to lay in the tub before I passed out. Thank god for my husband, because I don’t know if I would have survived the next several hours without him.  HERE’s the TMI >>>>>>>  I continued bleeding for the next three hours, my husband pouring warm water on me to wash all the little clots away. After a while, I passed a huge clot, size of an egg. Ever done that science experiment where you use vinegar or something to dissolve an egg shell and you’re left with just the innards in a flexible membrane? Well it was like that, but blood. I passed out a little while after that.  ....That’s when I knew things were getting weird. It was my second time passing out ever, and I hated it. I think it’s literally my least favorite thing in the world. 5 seconds that feels like an eternity and it feels like you’re going to die but you can’t explain why. Terrible.  I still thought maybe we could get through this. It didn’t hurt, it was just... well, losing blood. It was within the realm of what I’d read about subchornionic hemorrhage, so I thought maybe that clot was the worst of it. HMM, I was wrong. I passed another one just like it. Then I passed out twice in quick succession, upchucked all over myself (the smell haunts me, ugh), and apparently turned rather blue. So I told him, “hey, it’s time for the ER”.  Boy, that was....... a thing. He called his mom because I said I didn’t want him driving and for me to pass out again when he couldn’t help. I swaddled myself in towels and garbage bags so I wouldn’t bleed all over the damn place, all the while feeling like I might just die at any moment. When we got to the ER, they put me in a wheelchair, asked me some questions I could barely answer, and then took me back.  The next 24 hours consisted of being stabbed, suctioned, and pumped with 5 liters of saline solution which left me smelling weird. I was barely conscious for the first half of it, but talking and joking whenever I could-- because apparently that’s how I deal with stress. Anyone surprised?  Anyway, they quickly confirmed what I knew as soon as I passed more than one ungodly egg-clot: it was a miscarriage. They removed what was left; I didn’t look at it, but my husband said there... wasn’t really much. Nobody did any analyses, so I’m left to surmise that it wouldn’t have been more than 6 weeks (or possibly anembryonic), meaning it was just in there for 5+ weeks by then, doing nothing but accumulating blood. Insult to injury much?  The biggest strangeness of the whole ordeal, the reason why I didn’t expect it was a miscarriage in the first place, was that none of it hurt. Every story I read said it hurt, but this just felt... awkward. I mean, passing out wasn’t fun. Sure as hell didn’t feel comfortable, but I never experienced any pain (except the blood draws; lord did those bruise. Ugh).  The whole thing left me feeling exhausted. It took days before I could do more than toddle around the house. It’s been 2 weeks now, but I still feel a little sick when I think about those fucking clots, or the strangeness of the ER, or passing out 4+ times. I’m hoping I don’t have brain damage, geez. I certainly feel mentally slower than usual, like maybe the pregnancy-brain never went back to normal.  As for what I feel emotionally... it’s... hard to say. I’m sad. Disappointed, annoyed. But mostly I was scared. And that makes me hesitant. I still want a kid. I wanted that kid. But I’ve always been very careful. We always knew the risks and wanted to wait until the right time. The problem is, now... Now I’m more intimately familiar with some of the risks, and I’m a bit afraid it’s going to make me too careful. Will I ever get another chance? Will I ever give myself another chance? I don’t know. I really just don’t.  Mostly though, I am glad to be alive. And while I was more than accepting of the ugly bloated and tired feeling of pregnancy, I’m happy to take the good with the bad now. I hate what I lost, but my body is starting to feel normal again, and... well, that’s nice, I guess.  Anyway... That’s partly why I haven’t been online, and what I’ve been up to since. God I hope you guys have all had nicer, less-eventful years so far. (If you wanna catch up, feel free to message me. The IM feature seems busted on my end, so maybe try sending an ask or something instead.) 

#elo talks #long post #super long post #tw: miscarriage #tw: pregnancy #tw: emergency room #tw: blood loss #this is a personal post but I don't mind who interacts with it. I hope maybe it'll help someone somehow #sorry to make you read all this crap

[aquilamage]

I have been wanting to do a baby Kay + the aa detectives (aka the rfta crew, basically) fic for so long, but I keep jumping around between things and it’s just. But anyway I realized I do like what I have so even though it’s a wip I’m still sharing because hopefully someone else finds it interesting. (and maybe it’ll motivate me to work on it more)

The first time they see the kid, none of them particularly think much of it.

“What are you staring at, Jake?”

He turns in time to see Angel lean against the end of his desk. With a casual gesture, he indicates a door on the far side of the room. “Thought I saw Detective Badd walk by with a kid. That’s mighty strange, don’t you think?”

Her gaze is now focused in that direction. “Are you sure about that?”

“I saw her too.” Detective Goodman wheels his desk chair back to join the group. “Well, I passed them in a hallway earlier. Little girl, about this tall, chin length black hair, big puffy coat?”

”Yup.”

There’s a moment of silence as the three of them consider this information. “Do you think she’s a witness, then?” Angel leans over to talk in a more hushed tone. Smart, considering that there’s quite a few other people in the room.

Bruce sighs. “That seems the most likely, although for her sake I hope not.”

“Yeah, she was a real lil’un. Can’t be more than a few years old.” Even with the milder cases he’s worked, that’s not something he would want a kid to have to get mixed up in. Jake sinks back in his chair.

Angel’s still watching the door. “I’m surprised they gave the case to Detective Badd, though.” Her sharp analytical gaze is a tiny bit softer than usual, although maybe it’s just the angle she’s at from them. “I mean, he’s a decent guy, but he’s not exactly the type you’d think of as ‘good with kids’.”

A slight pause before Goodman says, softly, “Well, you never know.” It’s pretty clear the other two had been silently agreeing with her. They had only ever seen Badd as quiet, serious, and generally not very emotive, and couldn’t really picture him acting otherwise, so…

Not that it’s in any part in their hands anyway. They drift back to their own work after a few more minutes, and after not having another sighting, eventually put the incident out of their minds.

---

Until a couple weeks later, when Angel furtively pulls them into the breakroom.

“What was that for?” Jake fixes his bandana from being yanked by it.

She just shushes him, making a ‘get down’ gesture before moving to the window facing the larger office.

Goodman shrugs. They copy her, trying to keep an angle so they won’t be seen.

And there’s Detective Badd, with the same kid.

“Well…” Jake drawls, “I think we can rule out her being part of a case then, huh?”

The other two nod silently, still watching. Because now, of course, the question is: how is this girl connected to Badd?

He’s talking to one of the other detectives, with her standing at his side. Watching them very intently, head tilted way back, she nods emphatically with that expression you only get with small children trying very hard to be serious. (its cute) After a while though, her attention wavers.

She’s just about to scurry off behind someone when Badd puts a hand on her. He says something, very briefly, then goes right back to the conversation.

She seems to consider something. Then, carefully, she grabs the edge of his coat in one tiny hand, trailing it behind her as she walks a couple feet to the side. And within the little circle of space that affords her, she starts investigating everything.

As the silence in the breakroom has stretched on, it’s also become loaded as the three of them slowly came to the same tentative conclusion. But it’s another few moments before Jake swears softly. “You don’t think that’s his kid, do ya?”

The other two laugh, almost nervously.

“If someone just told me about this I’d tell them to come back with a more reasonable lie,” Angel says, tapping her fingers on the sill. No one has to say anything to agree with that. Badd’s been her longer than any of them. They’ve never heard even secondhand of anything that might so much as suggest him being in a relationship, much less a family. It’s…a weird thought; trying to fit the image of the detective they know into any concept of that is…it doesn’t really work.

And yet. She sighs. “But given the information we have right now, it’s also the most reasonable conclusion.”

---

So thus commences operation Find Out What’s Up With Badd’s Kid(???). They were all detectives; they just have to investigate some more.

It’s readily agreed to be done quietly, though. If Badd has never been open about his personal life before, it doesn’t seem like directly prying will be fruitful, besides perhaps in upsetting him. Even if he is nicer than one would initially assume, that doesn’t stop Badd from being pretty intimidating. (And, in a contradictory but weirdly strong feeling none of them quite know how to voice, they can’t help but feel like this whole thing was something Badd had mentioned and they’d all somehow managed to miss, given how casual he seems about bringing her around). So, they observe at a distance.

---

Angel is at the courthouse, sorting through some files during a recess when she spots the pair. Badd walks through the hall, the girl following behind. But where he’s able to cut a path through the small foot traffic through sheer size and demeanor, her shorter steps put her at a few feet of distance, forcing her to move around people.

Not that she minds. She ducks back and forth with a grin, the extra little twirls and hops making it clear she’s turned it into a game. It’s impossible to tell at this distance, but it seems like she might be singing.

Badd notices her lagging, and after waiting for her to catch up, resumes at a slower pace.

It’s easy for her to just keep in line with him now. As she does, she sticks her hands in the pockets of her overalls, walking with a little bit of a crouch. It’s a very good impression of Detective Badd (even if the expression is a little over the top serious), and it takes Angel all of her professional composure not to smile and laugh at the sight.

---

Jake heads home just a little late one evening. On his way out, his path crosses with Badd as two hallways converge.

The kid is curled up in his arms, asleep and clutching the front of his shirt.

Maybe if he wasn’t quite so tired and taken by surprise, he could’ve come up with something to say without specifically commenting on her presence, an invitation to talk without making it a demand. But instead he walks with them in silence. There’s an awkwardness on his side as he debates with himself, wanting to watch Badd but nervous about being noticed at that, given how physically close they are.

He holds the door out to the parking lot for them. And before his brain really has time to consider it, he says “you two get home safe.”

For a fraction of a second, it seems like Badd’s giving him a look. Then, he simply nods. “You too,” he replies, a little stiff, before leaving.

---

Shortly after the incident in the breakroom, Bruce starts taking notice of Detective Badd’s desk. Because it’s then that he starts seeing the drawings. Usually tucked in with other papers (although there’s the occasional one stuck to the file cabinet), they’re a colorful collection. He never gets close enough to have a really good look at them, but they’re obviously a child’s drawings. (It’s entirely possible they’d been there earlier as well, and he was only now noticing them because he’s looking for them – it does make him wonder what else he might have missed, though.)

And another thing: every so often Bruce notices that the pictures have changed. It’s a little thing, but along with everything else a clear suggestion that he’s spending a lot of time around this kid.

---

But despite all the little glimpses they’ve been getting, several months pass without getting anything closer to a definitive answer. It’s frustrating, but they don’t know what else to do at this point besides wait and hope for something that will give them answers.

---

Late one Tuesday morning, Jake walks into the office after finishing an assignment. On his way in, Goodman waves him over.

“Marshall!” he says, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. “I’m really glad to see you. Do you have time to talk?”

“Yeah. Actually, that reminds me. Payne was sayin something about an investigation report he needs from you by tomorrow.” That had not been the ideal morning experience, listening to the prosecutor’s screechy tones about something that wasn’t even under his control. It certainly makes Bruce’s calm, plain voice all the more soothing to listen to.

Even if right now it’s a little off from usual. “Oh! Oh right, yes, of course.” He looks around before leaning in. “But first, there’s something slightly more pressing.” Then, as if he’s remembering something, a glance over Jake’s shoulder. “Where’s Detective Starr?”

“Out. You remember that warehouse of stolen goods? She’s out there investigating today.” Scratching his chin, he studies his coworker. “Somethin bothering you? You seem mighty jumpy.”

He deflates a little at the news. Then, he ducks his head again. “Nothing wrong, it’s simply unexpected, and I was hoping we could all-“

As he’s listening Jake feels a creeping sensation at the back of his neck. He frowns, trying to figure out the source. His gaze sweeps down toward Bruce’s desk. And then further down.

Staring at him from over the top of the desk, big wide eyes and little hands grasping the edge of the table surface, is the girl.

“What in tarnation…” he breathes out slowly. Turning, “Bruce, what on earth are you doing with Badd’s kid?”

#rambles #my writing #fanfiction #wip #listen I've said it before but Kay deserves to hang out with the detectives they're all cool and I think it's fun

[ivisite]

For the drabble meme, 33 with Anruin?

Anruin is petty with a capital “P” and I’m all about that.

#33. “I saw you staring at each other, I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage.”

It wasn’t often that Anruin managed to successfully read his map well enough to make it to his destination and it was even more rare for him to stumble upon something worth writing about. Besides studying half-diligently at the two colleges of Skyrim, the small Bosmer found himself enthralled with his own personal journey. He wanted nothing more than to become the greatest bard and with his Mer blood giving him a few extra years to hold over the common man, he was happy to say he had plenty of time to accomplish said feat.

Bards of old simply spoke tales they’d heard from others but Anruin was determined to do the opposite. Based strictly on rumors he picked up while coaxing about local Inns, he managed to catch wind of a new figure emerging- or two, rather. One such figure was the Last Dragonborn, a Nord woman with hair as fiery as the souls of the dragons she captured and the other was a mysterious hooded figure that few had ever actually seen, a harbinger of thieves and larceny that guards whined about in the days after the it was supposedly spotted in the area. Amused by the notion but bribed to say otherwise, Anruin knew far too much about any given person anyways but in particular he knew quite a bit about the newest soon-to-be hero of old.

“Can’t you guys get some incense? Just because it is a sewer doesn’t mean it has to smell like it- and it’s far too humid, too. Humidity isn’t good for singing..” Anruin rambled, walking about the infamous Ragged Flagon that everyone spoke ill of.

At the counter, the owner of said makeshift bar wiped down tankards with an annoyed flair. He was a surprisingly decent looking man, all considering where he set up shop and his so-called lady friend wasn’t too bad on the eyes either. Both, however, watched the Bosmer parade about with the last of their nerves ticking away. 

“Woof Elf, I’ll ask again, what do you want? Shouldn’t you be prancing around an Inn or something?” Tonilia rather pointedly asked. She was a Redguard, Anruin presumed and had a tough demeanor about her. Pretty enough but perhaps too domineering, Anruin could see why her little friend the bar keep might like her so much. Docile by contrast, the barkeep was a good balance to her more assertive nature.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping with your actual lover instead of literally everyone else?” Anruin coolly snapped back, taking out his journal and scribbling something down.

Both the barkeep and Tonilia’s mouth fell agape. The rabble that lived in the sewers weren’t exactly posh and well-mannered but for some stranger to waltz down on his merry way to gods know where just to bother them was infuriating in both both and practice.

“Why you dirty little bast-” The Redguard woman started to say, cut short by a rather loud throat being cleared.

“Can someone please be so kind as to tell me where all my workers are? I’d really appreciate it.”

The man in question was of average height but made up for any short-comings in the area by his gruff voice and permanent look of annoyance that chiseled itself onto his face. The man haphazardly glanced between the three other people in the Flagon only to shake his head and take a seat at a table off to the side. Grumbling about needing something to drink, the man motioned his hand at the barkeep.

“And what in Oblivion do you want, elf?” He spat, looking to Anruin rather hatefully. 

“A hearty drink with warm company, of course. Why else would I have come to such a lovely establishment with such inviting patrons?” Anruin cooed back, smiling at the irritated knitting of the man’s brow.

“If you must know, though, I’m looking for Saoirse. Had a gut feeling she might be around here when not dragonborn-ing.” The wood elf said slyly. In truth, he knew all too well of Skyrim’s rising hero. She wasn’t much of one from what he could see, at least not based on the great, bulky heroes of the past and had a bit of a dark side to her that she bribed him with gold and food to not tell anyone about.

“Oh, well then, that makes two of us.” The grump of a man retorted, rolling his eyes as he drank from his tankard.

“Ah, Mercer! Delvin and Vex are out on jobs with a few of the other stagglers from the Cistern. Brynjolf and Saoirse are probably killing each other or something. Delvin sent them on another job together.“ 

From his spot behind the bar, Vekel must have seen a lot of thing and for that Anruin could respect. Barkeeps and Bards knew everything about everyone that walked by them and were dangerous in their own right. Either type could twist a rumor just a bit and have the whole hold gossiping for weeks on end.

"As long as the job gets finished first, what’s it matter afterwards.” Mercer grumbled again.

It grew quiet in the small tavern after that, an odd but welcoming atmosphere if you squinted and tried really hard to find it. Persistent, Anruin took a seat at a table that was situated on what he called the dock, for lack of better words. If she were out on a job, she would have to come back eventually and he had a million things to ask as soon as she did.

Despite popping up at a bad time during a dragon attacking a nearby settlement, Anruin and Saoirse managed to get along rather well. She wasn’t pompous or haughty like he imagined someone with her title would be and seemed to put up with his presence on most occasions. Perhaps only because he was so insistent on the friendship, the two and whomever happened to be following her around at the time were quite the gaggle to behold. 

After what seemed like hours, the Flagon was greeted to the oncoming hum of what sounded like people screeching in the ratways coming towards the entrance of the tavern. While Vekel seemed amused by it, muttering something about his end of a bet going well, Mercer groaned and rubbed his temples.

“You bloody bastard! How dae you except me to be able to read your damned mind?! Ruddy haired son-of-a bi-" 

”-Look who’s calling the kettle full, you ruddy haired wench! When Mercer heres about this, he’s going to kill me and I’m going to push you in front like a human shield!“ 

Bickering as they walked into the tavern, Saoirse and another red head that Anruin couldn’t help but give a second glance towards made their way over to the seating area. They hadn’t noticed the other patrons just yet but they made good time in grabbing their alcohols of choice and taking seats as far away from each other as possible. Saoirse found herself sitting at the bar and her accomplice sat pretty with the grump from earlier. As quickly as the storm rolled in, it seemingly settled as soon as they had a drink in hand and back to one another.

Anruin watched the two for a moment before taking a seat next to his favorite muse, nudging her playfully in hopes of striking up a conversation while the men across the way talked business in hushed voices. Others started pouring into the tavern soon afterwards, as well, filling the seats and talking loudly while chasing what was left of daylight with various meads and wine. It was oddly comforting, Anruin noted, despite the general ambience leaving something to be desired. He was a muscian and a story-teller at heart and a bustling tavern was where he belonged.

As brazen as he might have seemed, Anruin could read a room in seconds flat. Despite the rumblings of several different conversations and boisterous laughter here and there, he couldn’t help but notice a stale bit of air sitting stagnant overhead. The other red head from earlier seemed to have lightened up once a few drinks settled on his stomach, carrying on with a balding man, a hateful looking blonde and this Mercer fellow from earlier. In contrast, Saoirse was uncharacteristically quiet, even having moved down a few seats from the Bosmer after muttering about not being in the mood.

It was absolutely tantalizing. Like a moth to a flame, Anruin took out his journal again, placing it on the counter along with a quill and ink bottle much to the barkeep’s amusement. There was always something to make a song out of and if the dragonborn had some sort of edge to her, he was about to write every observation on the matter down in his notes. The song of the era would need to be detailed and Anruin was more than happy to include this odd moment of stagnant tension in the hero’s journey in the song.

Not paying mind, he managed to draw a few curious onlookers attention towards him. Another Bosmer of the more cliche archer sort took a seat nearby while a dark haired man with a nicer disposition than the others sat on the otherside of Anruin. Both were quiet as they watched the bard scribble but couldn’t help but interrupt after a while passed.

"What’re you writing, kinsman?” The other Bosmer asked, peering over Anruin’s shoulder while the darker haired male squinted to read the pages.

Anruin loved attention, so when it was given he was to engage, though kept a certain watchfulness about him so not to miss anymore note worthy things. Smiling, he put his quill down and dusted off the corner of the page he was writing on.

“It’s a song. I’m trying to write about our dragonborn over here but she’s too busy moping about to get anything noteworthy out of.” He playfully chimed, pushing the journal into better view for his onlookers.

They seemed intrigued by the notion if not amused as they both skimmed the pages. Strangers they might have been but patrons never-the-less. If they wanted to hear a story Anruin would gladly oblige. While the pair quietly muttered and read through the pages of notes, Anruin let himself study the room. Nothing really changed since his last glance around but from the corner of his eye he did manage to catch a glimpse of something worth taking a moment to ponder on.

From across the way at the table full of important looking members amongst the rabble, Anruin watched as the red headed man gazed at Saoirse when he thought no one was looking. He would let his eyes linger on her for no more than a moment before flickering them back to his own company but wouldn’t let himself go too long without looking her way again. His expression was neutral as far as Anruin could tell from his peripheral vision but the gazes were intense. He wasn’t the target, but he could almost feel the weight of it pass over his shoulders en route to the woman nestled at the edge of the bar. 

“Curious…” He thought to himself before turning his attention to Saoirse down a ways from him. She sat quietly at the edge, tinkering with a fork while her bottle of mead sat sparsely touched.

She, too, seemed to notice the weight and made quick to let her own eyes wander towards the other red head from time to time. It was another hard read but Anruin could feel the weight of her gaze passing over him just as much, if not more so than the red headed male’s. They seemed to dance around each other, glancing in perfectly timed intervals so not to catch one another and Anruin found it rather amusing. It was as though they were bickering still, taking non-verbal shots at one another before passively looking away to await the other’s response.

Picking up his quill and dipping it in ink after several moments of watching the two, Anruin raised his brows nonchalantly and let a coy smile make its way across his lips. His notes were rather bland as of late, mostly based on rumors and the odd sighting but in this instance he decided to toss a bit of grease on the fire. Fingers popped and legs crossed just so, Anruin cleared his throat and caught the attention of the tavern. Pleased with spotlight, he chuckled and looked between the red heads on either side of the room. 

“I saw you two staring at each other, I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage. Care to elaborate or should I just write down that it’s both? That would make for a good line in my song….” He cooed.

Horror struck the faces of both people that had been singled out and every pair of eyes in the tavern began to waver between the two. Anruin, however, couldn’t help but chortle at his feat as he dipped his quill in the nearby ink well. With both red heads at a loss for words by the sudden call out, Anruin shook his shoulders happily and began writing.

"Oh good, it’s both then. The plot thickens and the tension rises! This is going to be the best song ever….”

Anruin is the messiest ho in all of Tamriel and I couldn’t be more proud.

#oc ask #anruin : oc #bosmer #anruin needs a squad of other messy ho's #they could have a black book with everyone in Skyrim written in it with juicy gossip #solitude #skyrim oc

[thepersephonecabin]

Legacy and Bullshit Mindfuckery (fic)

Summary: Luvander has two things for the Adamo’s first child: a gift and a wish.

Please see full tags and warnings AO3

Note: So... How did we get here? Well, basically, when I was writing A Very Adamo Christmas for @foxesonstilts for the @festivebastion exchange I meant to put in a short bit about a Luvander giving Laure and Adamo’s first child a very special gift, but forgot until after finishing FestiveBastion. So I told myself I was gonna write a small addition, and then my latent need to see the airmen recover after the war took over and suddenly I had a 4k+ luvander character study on my hands. And also about halfway through my if-i-dont-write-this-right-now-i-will-never-sleep craze a tiny part of my brain was like “you should make luvander a trans man for absolutely no reason” and I did and actually really liked the way it fit into the story.

So anyway, I hope you enjoy!

-

A day and a half following the birth of Rory Adamo, Luvander found himself on the doorstep of the Greylace Estate once again. Wrapped in one arm, he cradles a soft drawstring bag, cream in color with a light pink ribbon around the top.

He didn’t bother knocking as he shouldered his way through the doorway. Even though he still primarily lived out of the apartment above the hat shop, this place was dragon territory, and therefore as far as he was concerned, it was his home as well.

“Hello?” he called out, slipping his shoes off at the door. Maybe if he was really lucky, Rook would come in and pitch a fit about like he would in the good old days.

Balfour emerged from the lounge with a book cracked open in his hands and questioning eyes. “Oh, Luvander. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” Luvander confirmed. “Where’s the chief and his young lady love? I had something I wanted to bring to them.”

“They’re in their bedroom, I think,” Balfour said before quickly amending, “Oh, no, not like that! I think it was just time to change her.”

“Ah,” Luvander said. “How is the not-so-little tyke anyway?”

Balfour smiled and began leading him up the stairs to Laure and Owen’s room as if Luvander hadn’t been there not two days ago. “Oh, you know. She sleeps and eats and poops and cries. Lucky the three of us don’t room up in the same area of the house as Chief Sergeant and Airlady Adamo or I’m sure we’d all be knackered already.

The three of us. Luvander knew he meant the three Second Wavers outside of Laure of course. Luvander felt a sick little spark of jealousy flare up in his stomach and not for the first time at their mention before he stamped it out with the guilt of it all.

Balfour continued, “Mom and Dad are still smitten with her though. I wager that by the sixth week in they might be out of the honeymoon stage.”

“Sixth? I don’t know if I could make it to the second,” Luvander said. Of course, he was happy to have a little niece to dote on, but Luvander had never seen much draw in the idea of having a baby you couldn’t return to its rightful owners when it began to shit itself.

Balfour laughed good-naturedly, “I think Adamo’s a bit more levelheaded than you, however.”

Luvander shrugged. “Maybe so, but I’ll stick to my instinct and take you up on that bet.”

They’d reached the Adamo bedroom now, and throught the door Luvander thought he could hear the baby’s wordless vocalization (Did most newborns make this much noise when they weren’t crying or was this one just especially talkative, he wondered) paired with Laure’s laugh and the low tenor of Adamo’s voice.

Balfour turned to him, touching Luvander’s elbow softly through his coat. Balfour wasn’t wearing his gloves today, Luvander observed. Good, he thought, he shouldn’t feel like he needed to hide them, especially not here, not with family.

“Before you go in…” Balfour began, “I wanted to ask how you were doing. I know Ghislain sailed out.”

Luvander resisted the urge to grimace. He liked to tell himself he did an okay job of deflecting everyone else’s attention away from his persistent problems with loneliness. On the good days he cracked enough jokes and sarcastic witticisms to keep the people around him too entertained to notice. On the bad days he threw himself into overworking, holed up in his workroom with little sleep and becoming overly perfectionistic about whatever he was working on until he felt like tearing it all apart again. But on the best days Ghislain was home, in this place Ghislain didn’t even think of as his home, but the place Luvander was, which in Luvander’s mind designated it as Ghislain’s home nonetheless.

Balfour, however had always been the one he couldn’t fool, and it was a fact that needled at him constantly. He didn’t enjoy it when others looked past the mask he’d so carefully crafted for himself like one of his custom hats.

Not that Luvander had anyone but himself to blame for that. Balfour always suspected Luvander’s yearning for affection and attention and approval had been more than the average loneliness, but then Luvander just had to go and fuck it up even further.

It had been at least a year and a half or maybe even two when it happened. He, Raphael, Balfour, and Rook had been drinking (because of course they had) in Balfour’s room at the Greylace Estate. These rooms were a damn sight bigger and nicer than the ones in the Old Airman, a fact that Luvander could never parse out about whether he appreciated or was annoyed by. As such, Balfour had set up a couch and a few chairs to fill the space between his bed and the opposite wall. Ever since Raphael turned up again, they’d started having little get togethers one or twice a month, alternating whose place hosted.

Then Thom’d been offered a job as a professor (a real one this time) at the ‘Versity and Rook had come back to Thremedon bitching and complaining the whole way back from whatever adventure they’d been on when they received the letter. Apparently Thom had already begun writing a letter back declining the offer when Rook found out and through some well-intentioned bullying and ripping of half-finished correspondence got Thom to accept. From Luvander’s understanding, Thom had decided immediately to pass on the job in order to continue looking after his older brother, knowing that Rook had very important reasons for staying away from Thremedon. He couldn’t ask Rook to go back there, and he didn’t feel comfortable letting Rook travel alone without eventually winding up dead in a ditch from asphyxiating from his own vomit either. According to him, Rook’s mental health had markedly approved once the Dragonsoul was destroyed and th’Esar’s plans thwarted. He’d finally been able to properly grieve, Thom said, but that didn’t mean he was ready to part ways and risk Rook relapsing without him to drag him out of it.

Rook found all this out and stubbornly refused to go along with that “bullshit mindfuckery” Thom was always practicing on account of the fact that teaching at the University had always been Thom’s dream job, and he would be damned if his little brother threw it away for his sorry ass. After all, while the ‘Versity had improved in regards to letting in more students from poorer walks of life since Thom had been awarded for his work with the Airmen, the same improvement hadn’t come in regards to hiring choices. For all any of them knew, this might be the last time a mollyrat was offered a job at the Empire’s highest learning institution in a long, long time. So, back to Thremedon they came, and Luvander, Balfour and Raphael’s little survivor’s club had expanded from three to four members. (There had always been an open invitation to Adamo as well, but he only rarely took them up on it.)

So, anyway, they’d been drinking thoroughly and Luvander more thoroughly than the rest. It’d been months since Ghislain had come to port- not his fault, some jobs simply took longer than expected- and Luvander was in the pits. That said, he’d been holding it together pretty admirably that night, and it had all been fine until Rook and Raphael left. Raphael said he had Royal Guard duty the next day- it was a job offer Luvander, Ghislain and Raphael had all received from the Esarina herself after she’d almost died by her own guards that night when they’d had to rescue the Adamos. Raphael had been the only one to accept.

But so when Raphael stood up to leave and appropriate one of the Estate’s carriages Rook also decided to leave “before the Professor starts hyperventilating over me” and figured it would just be easier to go back in one carriage. It was, in sober retrospect, a suspiciously sensical thing to come out of Rook Molly’s mouth, but who knew anymore. Luvander didn’t know what kind of bullshit mindfuckery Thom had exposed that man too while they were travelling, but Rook’d been all kinds of weird since they’d come back and by “weird” Luvander meant “vaguely decent.”

The two of them took their leave and after that the details grew fuzzy, but he did remember drunkenly confessing his depression about missing Ghislain to Balfour and Balfour being nothing but supportive as understanding.

“You’re so sweet,” Luvander had told him, slurring his words and cupping the other man’s cheek. “You know that? You’ve always been so sweet, Balfour. Sometimes I wonder how someone as sweet as you got mixed up with all of us selfish ingrates. You always deserved so much better than us. Hell, if you’d never met us assholes, you’d still have your hands.”

Balfour blushed and looked away. “My hands weren’t your guys fault, and even if I don’t have them, I have my girl and all of you. Besides, I’m not so inno-“

And that had been as far as he’d gotten before Luvander launched himself into Balfour’s lap and shoved their mouths together.

Now, it’s important to note that Luvander had always been a touchy drunk. He’s sure he’d made passes at all thirteen of the other airmen more times than he could count while trashed out of his mind. He even had one absolutely disastrous incident with Adamo that had gotten a very stern talking to about appropriate relationships between a superior officer and his subordinates the next morning. Luvander had deeply respected the things Adamo said to him at the time despite the massive hangover he was fighting his way through as he said it and the urge he had to hang himself rather than have this conversation at all. That didn’t mean he hadn’t brought up the irony of it in his speech at Laure and Adamo’s wedding, though.

Which was all to say that Luvander was no stranger to make-out sessions with his friends after a few too many drinks. In fact, drunken fooling around had been the bedrock upon which his entire relationship with Ghislain was founded. Even after Luvander and Ghislain were “official” they’d kept the relationship fairly open because Luvander wasn’t the sort to abstain from sex for months at a time while his lover was at sea. It had simply come with the condition that if anything that strayed from the “casual sex” territory and into the “feelings” territory had be to discussed- Ghislain wasn’t jealous about Luvander being with other people physically, but he was jealous about having to share Luvander’s heart and overprotective at times about the idea of someone taking advantage of Luvander’s emotions.

This had been different though. This kiss with Balfour hadn’t been borne of happy delirium or playfulness like most of his less-than-sober escapades were. This had been borne of deep, deep sorrow. A desperate effort to patch a leak in a dam ready to burst. The other reason it was different was because Balfour had only had had two drinks that night, and Luvander had had at least five times that.

On the bright side, if one had to have such a mortifying experience in their lives, Luvander could think of very few people better to have it with than Balfour Vallet.

The epitome of gentlemanly behavior, Balfour had gently broken off the kiss and softly and without malice told him that they couldn’t do this, not when Luvander was so intoxicated. Luvander had nodded and understood, but then broken into wracking sobs as he blubbered about how fucking alone he felt all the time. Balfour let him cling to him like a security blanket even though Luvander was still straddling him and repeatedly assured him that he didn’t care if Luvander covered his shirt with snot and tears.

Then Luvander woke up the next morning on Balfour’s couch with a blanket draped over him. His clothes were all intact with the exception of his shoes and his binder which he had a bad habit of sleeping in and Balfour knew it. Balfour must have peeled it off once Luvander had passed out along with the boots and then buttoned Luvander’s shirt back up and even replaced his signature scarf. Both binder and boots were now neatly laid out on the coffee table with care.

There were still a few bottles of alcohol too, and ordinarily he might have been tempted to drink them. This time though, he reckoned he’d done enough damage under the influence for one day.

That was about when Balfour appeared, already dressed for the day and carrying a tray of water and coffee. “Oh, you’re awake,” he’d said, kicking the door shut behind him. He sat next to Luvander on the couch and set the tray on the table. “I hope you don’t mind that I took off your…” he said awkwardly, wringing his hands like he always did.

It took Luvander a moment to understand he was talking about the binder. “Oh. Oh no, it’s- Balfour, I know you’d never do anything to me or go further than protecting my ribs from some rather tragic pain in the morning. And it’s not anything you haven’t seen in the showers before. If anything I think when it comes to invasions of peoples’ personal boundaries, I should be the one apologizing to you right now. What happened last night… the way I just went after like that was unconscionable and I promise it will never happen again. In fact, I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest if you never wanted to see me again.”

Balfour looked shocked. “Of course, I don’t want that. What happened last night wasn’t ideal, obviously, but you were plastered and having a rough day. I get it.”

Luvander could’ve both laughed and cry at that. “But it wasn’t just a bad day. It was… Bal, I think I have a problem.” He could practically feel the bile coming up just from saying those words out loud, but he told himself that if there was ever the time to admit it to anyone, this was it so he continued: “I think maybe I always had. Even before Xi’an it was like this, just not as intense or constant. I don’t know how to be alone. I don’t know how to feel unimportant or like I’m not the center of attention without letting it control me. When there were fourteen of us I could ignore it, right? Because there was always someone around, but now…” He wiped away tears with his scarf and adjusted it anxiously. “And, like, the way this place just fucking tossed all of us out like yesterday’s trash the second they didn’t need us anymore and that blasted medal ceremony was over didn’t exactly help.”

Balfour nodded slowly. “I think I know the feeling or at least a fraction of it. I felt so isolated and broken at the end of the war, but even before that I… well, I suppose I always felt like I was second to Amery.”

Luvander felt another pang of guilt. None of them had been sure how to react when Balfour replaced his brother in the Corps, but Rook more than anyone. Before Amery died he’d been the one of them that Rook was closest to, so Balfour’s presence was anything but welcome to him. So, whenever Rook had a problem, Balfour was usually who he took it out on. And Luvander had always just let him. Because sometimes crossing Rook was like crossing god in that house, but it didn’t excuse how cowardly he’d been.

 “Got feminine parts between his legs, airman’s honor.”

That’s what Rook had said about Balfour when he’d tried to be kind to Thom that first day when the Professor had them do introductions. Even then, Luvander, the real one with “feminine parts” among them was sitting right there, and he hadn’t said shit to stop Rook.

(Luvander had always felt Rook didn’t mind trans men as much as he minded trans women. Something about the way trying to be more masculine was seen as noble, while trying to be more feminine made you a Mary in a world where women were always seen as lesser. But he also felt like Rook’s somewhat backwards and begrudging acceptance of Luvander’s presence was conditional, like it was something that he was able to revoke at the barest hint of insubordination. Luvander was tolerated as long as he fought well and shut up and was cruel like him, but that didn’t mean it was real. At least Thom had seemed to have trained some of that out of Rook over the years, but it was still a nagging fear for Luvander.)

Luvander didn’t say any of that. He just said, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix it.” I don’t know how to fix me.

Balfour escorted him to the ‘Versity after that and made him talk to Thom about it. Thom being Thom, of course, looked at it as the academic he was. He talked about all kinds of fancy words like ‘schizoid’ and ‘histrionic’ and ‘dependent personality’. Basically, Thom said he couldn’t be sure exactly what the problem was without examining further. But he assured Luvander that there were coping mechanism they could try and that he had colleagues from the ‘Versity that he could ask for more medically focused advice as compared to Thom’s social theory perspectives.

Bullshit mindfuckery, Luvander remembered. As much as he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of Thom “examining” his psyche, he was significantly less thrilled about a perfect stranger doing it. At least he could trust Thom. At least Thom knew jackshit about how the airmen worked beyond the court gossip and bards’ song and those fucking statues that made them war heroes and not real people anymore. At least Thom was there when he woke up on an infirmary bed unable to talk for how deep his throat had been slit only to find out that four out of fourteen of them had come back. Even if Thom had been beside himself with grief, unaware that number five, Rook, was still breathing somewhere out there, at least Thom had borne witness for himself what they’d gone through, and Luvander wasn’t about to have to hash all of that to someone new.

But he couldn’t sit on his hands and not accept help when it was offered. Because he’d made Balfour a promise. He’d promised that he would never kiss Balfour again without fair and honest consent, plastered or not, and he’d meant it. He had so few friends left in this world. He wasn’t about to lose another due to his own selfishness and stupidity.

And so, he gave himself into the bullshit mindfuckery. He’d been meeting with Thom once every one or two weeks (or more than that if something set him off and crisis called for it). It was helping, Luvander thought. Slowly but surely.

Back in the present, Luvander shrugged at Balfour noncommittally. “It sucks, but I’m seeing the Professor tomorrow. And I guess now if I need someone to keep me company I could come and let the baby keep me busy so Mom and Dad can have some alone time.”

Balfour smiled at him. “You could have come over anyway. Well, I won’t push for specifics, but if you want to talk later…”

“I know where to find you,” Luvander confirmed.

Balfour gave him a bigger smile now. “Okay. I’ll let you talk to them then,” he said, and began descending the stairs, leaving Luvander at the at the door to the Adamo’s room.

He knocked briskly on the door and heard the Chief say, “Come in,” from the other side.

When Luvander opened the door, he found Laure on the bed over the covers cradling not-so-little Rory and making faces at her. Adamo was over by the radiator holding a bottle over the heat.

“Ah, I thought I heard someone out there talking to Balfour,” Laure said. “I didn’t know you were coming over today, but then again, I don’t think the pregnancy brain is totally out of my system yet.”

Laved waved moved to sit on the bed at her feet and waved her off with a hand. “It was unannounced. I had a gift for the baby and thought I’d bring it over.”

“Oh, that was thoughtful of you,” Adamo remarked walking over. To his credit, he only let a sliver of the wariness of a man who put up with thirteen uncontrollable ever-pranking monsters with dubious respect for authority for Regina even knows how long it’s been slip into his voice.

Luvander took the drawstring bag from the crook of his elbow and held it in his lap. “Well, I started working on this once you announced she was on her way. I guess I could have given it to you earlier, but it just felt like I should wait to give it to Rory in person. And of course, I didn’t exactly know you would choose to go into labor in a blizzard, so I didn’t have it on me the other night.”

He had a million things to say, a million possible preambles he could make, but he figured it was best to just show them. So, he pulled open the drawstrings, reached in, and pulled the carefully constructed figure of silver-grey fabric and held it up for inspection.

Adamo looked too shocked to say anything. Laure’s mouth had dropped into a soft “o” shape. But Rory had caught sight of her new toy and vocalized with one hand in her mouth and the other reaching out toward him with demanding hands. Bossy, he thought, Like her dad.

“I’m not sure I got all the details right since I was working off memory, plus she never really let me get that close to her anyway, but… Here she is,” Luvander said, because in his hands was a very small plush dragon.

“Is that…” Laure began.

“Proudmouth,” Adamo breathed. “Can I see her?”

“Of course,” Luvander said.

Adamo took it from him as if squeezing too hard would make it turn to nothing in his hands, turning it from side to side to see all the craftsmanship Luvander had put into it. Embroidered patterns where Proudmouth’s metal had been engraved, carefully cut and stabilized fabric made to take the shape of gears, a brass-colored ribbon where brass-colored brass reigns would’ve been. Every detail down to the shape of her claws had taken hours to craft and even more hours of meditating and sifting through bittersweet memories to recover. And here were the fruits of his labor all pieced together. Finally, Adamo let out a breath and said, “Looks just like her.”

“Well when you two starting talking about having kids, I wanted think of something special I could pass down to them, and eventually thought, well, every Adamo needs a dragon, right?” Luvander said. “So, I settled myself of making a different for each of your kids, if you have more that is. And it felt important that Rory got Proudmouth as your firstborn. I think… I think if things had turned out differently than they did Proudmouth could have been her birthright what with the way Anastasia picked two Vallets in a row to ride her.”

Adamo’s face as always was had to read, but somehow with a dragon in his hands, he looked years younger, and Luvander could tell whatever he was feeling he was feeling a lot of it.

Then Adamo smiled and said, “Thank you. It’s perfect, Luvander, really. I guess we should give Rory her girl and see if they choose each other.”

He passed the dragon to his daughter’s grasping hands, and they all watched as Rory immediately pulled Proudmouth to her chest.

“I think that’s your answer,” Laure laughed, dabbing at her eyes.

And in that moment, it seemed to Luvander that the world shone brighter. Welcoming a new generation was always hard, especially when the old one had lost so much, but it felt nice to be able to give the Airmen a proper legacy- one that wasn’t bronzed in statues, written in theses, or whispered behind hands at palace balls. But one that was simple- from father to daughter. And wrapped up in that gifted legacy was a wish, the most powerful wish Luvander had ever made, sewn into every stitch and seam: I wish that the ones who come after us won’t need our bullshit mindfuckery in the first place.

And then, Rook ruined the moment when they all heard a loud bang of the front door opened way too forcefully, followed by “BASTION FUCKING DAMNIT, WHO LEFT THEIR BOOTS IN THE DAMNED DOORWAY, I THOUGHT I DIDN’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS SHIT ANYMORE!”

Laure, Owen, and Luvander all looked at each other, and all at once they burst into laughter.

#volstovic cycle #havemercy #the oc's #rebloggable #my fic #screams into the void im actually so proud of this fic and i dont know why #also i know janie isn't on tumblr anymore but i just think of her every time i write about luvander so im wondering if it would be weird to #hey remember me? probably not we talked like 2 times but i wrote a fic about luvander and i miss seeing you in the fandom because i dont ha #ve a pillowfort

[dollarstoremorticia]

Writing Advice by Some Guy

Even though I’ve written a very small amount of fics, I feel like I have some advice I can provide. 

Also since my previous advice posts continue to get overlooked because of my less than fantastic mouth I’m supplying a PG-13 list in somewhat good English of the previously mentioned advice under the read more for you to use as you please.

Enjoy.

Advice time:

1. Keeping your writing style natural. 

- Write like you talk or think. If you do this, you’re almost guaranteed to have the writing flow nicely for a good amount of people reading it. Like instead of using giant words in a big vocabulary, stick to what you’d say when you talk to a person. If it helps, think of it as you’re actually telling the fic to someone as you talk. 

Most of the time when you’re talking, you’re trying to convey the story as easily as possible with a tiny vocabulary, and that’s a very good way to tell a fic. If you find yourself constantly looking up definitions for words, or think “am I using this word right?” the people reading the thing will probably think the same thing.

- Keep in mind this isn’t for dialogue, since characters all have a different way of speaking. If a character uses big words, then by all means use those big words in their dialogue, but try to keep them to a minimum in the actual narrative.

Ex: 

“He gazed about the corridor for a sign of the other man’s presence” v.s “He looked around the room, waiting for a sign that someone was there with him”

2. Characterization 

- Continuing with characterization, try to relate to the character in at least one way. Usually, you can convey emotions easier when you relate at least a little bit. Like say you’re writing for a character who’s generally a funny person, and you like to think that you’re at least a bit funny. 

That’s something you have in common, and while you probably shouldn’t just make that character funny, because that would ironically be no fun for anyone involved, you at least have a base to go on now. Like when you see that character think “Funny” and then branch out from there.

- Remember, just because a character acts one way, doesn’t mean that they can’t feel other emotions.This is where you risk the possibility of being OOC, but in the long run at least you’re trying. Eventually after working with a character long enough you’ll probably end up getting really familiar with the way they act. 

- If you can, during every day situations, to get better at writing for certain characters, ask yourself “How would [character] react to this” and try to think of it. It may sound dumb, but it really does help. 

- Keep in mind that some characters will just be easier for you to write, and that’s fine! Just keep practicing with them, or don’t. If you can plan your story to avoid writing a certain character’s POV as much as possible that always works too.

3. Comedic timing

(I’m probably not a certified Funny Man, but since I write mainly comedy anymore I thought I’d include this)

- Use. Reference.

That’s right. You can use reference for comedy. Who knew, am I right? 

Now it might not be the same as using reference for a drawing, but it works in practically the same way. 

Listen around to different comedians or youtubers to find a style of comedy you like, and use that as your reference for comedic timing. Now I’m not saying completely take their jokes, just try to replicate their style of comedy in your writing while also making it your own. (Personally, my comedic style comes from people like Dane Cook, Brian Regan, Bo Burnham, John Mulaney, Drew Lynch, Game Grumps, and Jenna Marbles)

- Accept that people have a different sense of humor than you. Sometimes you’ll mean for something to be funny and somebody won’t think so, and that’s fine. And sometimes people will think something’s funny that you never thought was. Either way, accepting different senses of humor is definitely a step to writing comedy. 

- Don’t just write a meme in to be funny. Like sure, sometimes a meme or two is funny, but when you do it constantly it becomes predictable and not fun to read.

Instead, try relying on the dialogue or narrative. Memes are funny, yes, and I’m guilty of using them to get a laugh, but don’t use them too frequently. There’s other ways of telling a joke, but only you can figure out how to do that.  

- Keep the character in mind when making a situation funny. Sometimes a joke just won’t fit the character, and while you think it’d be funny, it just does not fit. If you’re stuck in that situation, make the joke a shitpost on tumblr or tell a group of friends instead so you can be funny, but also not take away from the story. 

- Sometimes its the little things that are funny. Not all jokes have to be long thought out things. Sometimes just writing a character in a funny shirt or writing a single word can be funnier than a long thought out joke. Like ‘pumpernickel’. The word ‘pumpernickel’ is hysterical.

4. Other bits of advice for the general writing process itself

- It’s okay to take inspiration from other writers. You can look at a writing style and be like “Yeah, I want to write more like that” but do not, under any circumstances, just copy a writing style. The fun thing about art in general is that you have the power to express yourself in any way you want, which is ruined by just copying someone else’s work. 

- PRACTICE. You might get tired of hearing people say this, but the only way you get better is through practice. You don’t have to post everything you write, but don’t stop doing it. It’s how you develop your writing style.

- Use said. For gods sake, don’t listen to those people who say ‘Don’t use said.’ Most of the time when you talk you’re simply saying things. Actually, if you’re good at writing dialogue you can convey the emotion through the dialogue itself. OR. Or, you can write an action instead of the ‘said’ or ‘exclaimed’ that portrays the emotion the character is feeling. Actually this makes your writing flow nicer in my opinion.

But that aside, using ‘said’ is much easier to read, and much more natural then not using it.

- Avoid onomatopoeia. Now I’m talking like ‘tch’ and stuff like that. Mouth sounds. Avoid writing out mouth sounds. It just looks weird.

- Don’t write a stutter in that weird way that most people write stutters. T-this i-isn’t h-how p-people s-stutter.

Instead of writing a stutter like that, take the time to listen to somebody with a stutter. It’s not like that, and actually if you take the time to read that way out loud it just sounds weird. Instead, people with stutters, or people who stutter sometimes when they talk sound more like this: 

“Some-sometimes I ge-get ner-ervous on air-airplanes”

You don’t just say one letter. You’re saying part of the word when you stutter, and your writing should reflect that.

- Please don’t write giant ungodly paragraphs that take up the whole page. These are okay sometimes, but as a person with dyslexia and some sort of attention disorder, it’s hard to focus the entire time. Seriously I complain about this all the time, but I get that sometimes its hard not to use big paragraphs. I’m not saying every paragraph has to be like 2 sentences long. I’m just saying, if you think “I could split this up into 2 paragraphs” its probably best to do that.

- Sometimes you need a break from writing, and ultimately, unless writing is your actual job (in which case why are you getting advice from a 17 year old loser on the internet), only you dictate when the next chapter comes out. If you need a break, literally nobody is stopping you from doing so. 

5. Dealing with comments and other things

- You get to say whether you take constructive criticism or not. I, personally, do not. I say that I’ll get better in my own time. 

Taking or not taking constructive criticism doesn’t make you a better or worse person. You just have a different way of dealing with things.

- Don’t be a fucking asshole. It’s that simple. Whether you’re commenting on something you didn’t really like, or are receiving a negative comment, don’t be a dick. Sometimes people won’t like what you do, and sometimes you won’t like something that somebody else did. Either way, don’t be rude. You’re a human. Act like it.

- You don’t have to reply to every comment. I’m guilty of thinking this, but I soon realized that you sometimes just have nothing to say in reply to someone. Don’t worry about it. 

___

Alright! End of advice. I hope you got something from it. Literally, this shit is all based off of my writing style, so in the end it might not help at all. I’m not even really qualified to give advice,, but I thought I would anyway. Especially with comedy.

I am in no way a comedian of any sort, and therefore don’t really get to say what is or isn’t funny. 

I am also not really a writer either. I write fics from time to time that people seem to like.

Either way I hope this advice was helpful in some way. Also remember, just because you aren’t as good as you’d like at something right now doesn’t mean you wont’ get better with practice.

#prince of all trashcans #writing advice

[fix-it-feesh]

A month into their intimate events Tamora realizes that whether they meant to or not, there’s definitely something going on between them now. It doesn’t have a name or a label, but it’s there - living, breathing, existing.

- - - 

A/N: One of the things I really wanted to address in the AU was how Felix and Tamora agreed to keep sleeping together. Felix was obviously smitten the moment he laid eyes on her, but Tamora doesn’t feel the same (YET). This installment takes place after their first time and is slightly NSFW, but not really?? It’s more ~implied stuff~ than actual porn. However, if you’re weird about the f-word being thrown into the Disney universe, theeeen you might wanna skip this one. XD Otherwise, enjoy! 

- - - 

Tamora doesn’t know what to expect the next time she sees Felix (especially following the events that played out on her sofa), but when she does see him two days later, looking like he’s still nursing the remnants of a hangover, she’s surprised that he doesn’t shrink away from her. In fact, he’s as eager to interact as ever. They make smalltalk in the hallway, avoiding the metaphorical elephant in the room, until Tamora has enough and finally points it out (as bluntly as she does everything else).

“Alright, enough chitchat. We need to talk about what happened the other night.”

Felix’s pleasant smile falters a little as he promptly looks down at his shoes and gives one an absent nudge into the carpet. “Suppose we do, ma’am,” he agrees, blushing.

“I think we can both agree that we didn’t plan for any of that to happen,” Tamora says, leaning her weight onto one leg as a hand settles in the dip of her curvy hip. “We were drunk, and that’s all there is to it.”

She can’t see what Felix’s face is doing since he’s still looking down, but when he raises his gaze again he doesn’t look distraught or shocked. He just looks apologetic. Before he can throw any stupid ‘I’m sorry’s’ her way, Tamora makes sure to clarify something.

“You didn’t force me into doing anything, so knock it off with the kicked puppy face. If I hadn’t wanted it you would’ve been kicked out faster than an M-134 can fire a round.” Tamora shifts again and leans onto the other leg now. “It’s behind us, and it won’t happen again. Capiche?”

Felix nods understandingly, and Tamora does the same. It won’t happen again, she tells herself. Only it does, and not even a week later at that.

They’re in her kitchen this time instead of the living room. Felix is making dinner - he’d offered earlier that afternoon when Tamora had admitted to never trying country fried steak - and there’s wine involved. A bottle and a half later, Tamora finds herself sitting on the countertop while Felix stands between her parted knees, their mouths hungrily fused together.

He keeps trying to pull away, reminding her gently through breathy kisses that they’d agreed it wouldn’t happen again, but Tamora isn’t having any of it. She’s reeling Felix in like a prized fish; her hands grip his hair, mussing up those perfectly combed strands into messy tufts between her fingers. Her strong calf hooks around his hip, drawing him nearer until they’re practically one person.

The smell of burning food eventually interrupts their passionate interlude, just as Tamora shirt lands on the linoleum.

- - -

The pattern continues for a while: she’ll say it’ll never happen again, it happens, and then they’re back to square one. A month into their intimate events Tamora realizes that whether they meant to or not, there’s definitely something going on between them now. It doesn’t have a name or a label, but it’s there - living, breathing, existing.

She doesn’t plan to address it any more, especially not as they’re coming down from an early-morning romp in the sheets, but Felix is the one to finally bring the topic up.

“Tammy?”

Tamora isn’t used to the nickname (she’s not sure how she feels about it, honestly) but she responds anyway. “What is it?”

Felix repositions beside her, so that he’s lying on his side with his cheek propped up in one of his hands. “Can I, uh. Ask you somethin’?

“Shoot.”

“Forgive me for being so straightforward about it, but,” Felix pauses, chewing at his lip. “What exactly are we?”

Tamora hates how genuine Felix sounds; he’s not being condescending, or funny, or anything but his kind, innocent self. She wants to snap at him, but she settles for a sarcastic remark instead. “Humans.”

Felix chuckles a bit. “Oh, I know that. I meant what’re we in terms of…y’know.” He pats the tangled bedsheets implicatively.

Tamora wants to be realistic and say that they’re ‘fuck buddies’, but dropping an f-bomb anywhere near Felix’s vicinity always makes the handyman cringe. She decides to answer his question with a question of her own, because why the hell not?

“What do you think we are?”

Felix goes quiet for a second as he considers his reply. “I’m not really sure I know what we are, ma’am. I wanna say that we’re friends, but friends don’t exactly—”

Tamora can’t help herself. She has to say the word. “Fuck?”

She feels the mattress shift as Mr. Goody Two-Shoes tenses up. “That’s uh, one way to put it,” he admits, distinctly uncomfortable.

The smirk on Tamora’s face fades a tad. “You ever heard of friends with benefits, Fix-It?”

“Sure have, but I didn’t wanna assume anything,” he replies. “Especially since we tend to agree that it won’t happen again. Only…”

Tamora mimics Felix’s pose and lies on her side now as well, facing him. “It keeps happening.”

Felix draws invisible patterns on his pillowcase and nods.

“Then I guess there’s no denying it, is there?” Tamora points out, shrugging a bare shoulder. “It’s a purely beneficial arrangement with no strings attached. The second any sappy feelings start popping up is the second we call it off.” Felix doesn’t say anything or look away from the pillowcase, which has Tamora arching an eyebrow. “Are you telling me that you’re already getting attached?”

That captures his attention mighty quick. He looks at her and shakes his head furiously. “No, ma’am. I’m happy to go along with it if you are.” He smiles here, a forced one, and Tamora knows instantly that he’s lying.

She should call it quits right then and there to save them both a fair share of grief down the road, but she’s selfish and doesn’t. It’s nice having a way to blow off some steam, and it’s even nicer when it’s a guy who keeps his hands to himself and doesn’t dare disrespect her. Sure, Felix isn’t her ideal type as far as looks or personality goes, but he’s available and willing, and those are the two things she needs from him.

It’s why even though she knows how he feels deep down, how he’s way more emotionally invested in them than she is, she climbs on top of him and presses their lips together.

She’ll deal with the consequences later.  

#Fix-It Felix #Sergeant Calhoun #Wreck-It Ralph #Hero's Cuties #Hero's Cuties AU #feesh fics #sliiiightly NSFW? #but not really

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Part 44

Hi guys, back for the next part!

It's quite a long one, but nothing much exciting really happens, but you'll be glad to know that the part after this is nearly finished so it shouldn't take too long to get the next bit out!

Anyway, Enjoy! :)

(Thank you so much for all the encouraging likes and messages you guys send me! I literally live off all of your support! xx)

I you would like to be tagged let me know, or if you have any requests I will happily give them a go! :)

P.S If you've asked to be tagged and I haven't done so on this piece can you let me know again? I am trying to make a list but I can't remember who's asked me! Sorry I'm really forgetful!

MASTERLIST

When I work up I briefly noted how bright the room was before I then closed my eyes again, snuggling back into the bed, drawing the covers tighter around my chilled shoulders, intent on trying to cling to the remains of my slumber and maybe fall back to the peace that was my sleep.

But I couldn’t stop the brightness penetrating through my thin eyelids and I could feel I had lost that small hope of sleep and I drifted back to reality once again. I still refused to open my eye though - enjoying just lying in bed – and I began my usual ritual of running through the list of today’s tasks I needed to get done.

That was when my memory flooded back to me.

I felt the panic surge through me, my heart pounding. Shit.

What was going on?!

I shouldn’t have a duvet. I shouldn’t a pillow.

I should be in a bare room filled with old dusty furniture and I should be lying on a bare mattress.

I opened my eyes now - cautiously in case I wasn’t the only person in the room – to see that I was lying on my right side facing a wall of familiar dark green wallpaper with gold swirling patterns. I glanced down the length of the bed and - sure enough - there was the large glass doors that led onto the balcony.

I was back in the Joker’s room again.

I cautiously turned over, searching for anyone else in the room with me. No one. I was alone. But this was definitely the Joker’s room.

Maybe one of the henchmen had moved me - maybe it was Frost. If I could find him quickly I could - not only talk to him about personal boundaries - but also convince him not to tell the Joker I had disobeyed him. I didn’t really want him to know if I could help it. Maybe then I could talk to him civilly about new sleeping arrangements if I ever saw him within the next week.

Whatever I was going to do, I wasn’t going to get anything done lying here. I shoved myself upright and began to shuffle myself to the side of the bed, just swinging my legs over the side when the bathroom door swung inwards, my head shooting up at the movement, the rest of me freezing on the bed.

The Joker stood in the doorway of the bathroom, hair wet and slicked back with a few strands falling out of place across his face. He wore nothing but a towel on his hips, my eyes drawn to the many inked illustrations on view which seemed to move with each flex of his muscles.

“Afternoon, doll.” He greeted at my figure, frozen in the act. I barely registered that it was the afternoon and I must have slept at least half of the day away, too stunned by his sudden appearance to do much more than stare at him in shock. “Enjoying yourself, doll?” He asked with a lazy grin, breaking my day dream and I snapped my eyes up to him, feeling the blush heating my cheeks.

“Yes I am.” I respond defiantly, shocked at the words out of my mouth. The Joker laughed and I wasn’t sure if it was because of what I said, or the look of pure surprise on my face that I had said them.

“I trust you slept well, doll?” He asked pleasantly, with a sickly sweet smile, sounding genuinely intrigued.

I frowned at him quizzically – that was very out of character for him. “Uh, fine thanks.” I answered - did he not know that I had left the room? Had no one told him? A large grin spread across his face at my answer – as though he shared an inside joke – so he did know? I frowned in confusion at him.

“My night was fine too doll, thanks for asking.” He teased sarcastically stepping into the room – He watched me for a moment as though waiting to catch something in my eyes, but I tried to hide any guilt that might be there and I thought I had got away with it, but then his eyes turned steely, “Imagine my surprise though, doll.” He started, stepping further into the room and waving an arm about theatrically, “when I return to the house last night to find my honoured guest had scorned all the luxuries I had provided!” He cried dramatically, “Choosing instead to stay in an old dusty room with a worn-out mattress and no bed sheets - not even a pillow!” He cried in false distress, one hand to his heart, now stood before me at the foot of the bed.

“You had arranged for me to sleep in your own bed!” I defended strongly, not amused by his little theatre production, “I didn’t think that was appropriate.”

“Tell me then doll,” He said, leaning in toward me, causing me to recoil from his close proximity, his large Cheshire grin too close for my comfort, “why did you think it ‘inappropriate’ to sleep in my bed, and yet you’ll happily wear my clothes?” He asked pleasantly.

Shit. I looked down at my lap – sure enough I was still in his shirt and tracksuit bottoms. I could feel the red in my cheeks increase. Maybe I had crossed a line there – some people were precious about this kind of thing. But, thanks to my new confidence, I wasn’t backing down that easily, “Maybe if you’re going to insist on providing people with clothes you ought to include a more modest section for those whose careers don’t rely on a pole stuck in the floor!” I retaliated sharply.

I thought I’d gone too far then, and I dropped the scowl on my face quickly, panicking that his famous temper would flare at me. He paused a moment, his face serious and considering, then he broke into laughter, pulling himself upright again and chuckling to himself as he disappeared into the walk-in closet to this right.

I scowled at his muscular back as he left me sat on the bed, confused by his almost amiable behaviour and unsure what to do now. Was this how he was going to get me to smile? Just be a bit nicer to me? Well it wasn’t going to work, I thought defiantly, scowling to myself.

The door to the closet remained open, the Joker hidden behind it, but I could hear the sound of drawers opening and sliding shut. I didn't know what to do. I was still sat, half under the covers in the joker’s bedroom – in his clothes -  whilst the man himself was now getting dressed in the room opposite.

Out of context this situation looked a lot different to the one it was.

And now the idea of the Joker probably naked just behind that door was stuck in my mind. My thoughts wandered for a moment as to what that looked like, but I quickly shook my head away from that path – that was not a thought trail I should be going down.

I looked around the room desperately – what could I do? I felt extremely awkward just sat on the bed – unsure where to go or what was expected of me and the Joker only a few metres away. My eyes fell on the bathroom door. There was no lock on it – I remembered that – but I could still at least hide in there for a bit – I felt too vulnerable here.

I slid out of bed silently and crept quickly, but silently to the bathroom door, trying not to catch the Joker’s attention if I could help it and practically jumping over the threshold into the bathroom, closing door sharply behind me.

I leant against the wood for a moment, my heart racing. I was safe – well safer anyway.

I had no way of telling how long I hid in that bathroom.

I tried to just act normal to start with, brushing my teeth, washing my face, just taking my time with each and keeping half an ear out for the sound of the bedroom door to tell me the Joker had left.

That was the longest time I had ever spent brushing my teeth.

I thought I had heard the door go, but I was worried my ears were lying to me when I thought I heard another sound in the room. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer and left the bathroom, sneaking silently around the room, peering into any space I thought the Joker could hide in until I was convinced the room was empty.

I laughed shakily to myself at the extremes I was going through as I got dressed – managing to find a few pieces of clothing that covered at least some of skin and weren’t see-through or torn in strategic areas.

Now I stood in the middle of the room not sure what to do now. I was starving, but where was the kitchen? And was I just allowed to go there and help myself to what I wanted? And where was the Joker?

I remained there for a few moments unsure how to proceed till I gained the courage to leave the room. I wandered the house blindly for a time, trying to retrace the steps I had taken with Frost the day before, until I eventually reached the top of the grand staircase where a couple of armed henchmen stood guard outside a door.

I asked for directions from them and then begrudgingly instructed me to the kitchen which I followed and, after still managing to make a few wrong turns, I finally found my way to it.

Similar to the rest of the house, this room too, was huge. It had clearly been originally designed to be a historic-looking kitchen, once having the large fireplace, enough room for a huge farmhouse table in the middle and any other contraptions you wanted. But now it was revamped, a huge island with bar stools taking up the middle of the room and all the counters and technology having a very modern and metal look to them.

I wandered around the large room, opening drawers out of sheer curiosity and stumbling upon gadgets I didn’t even know existed. It was an oddly stocked kitchen for a house that was supposedly never used.

I hadn’t been in there long when Frost had found me, materialising in the doorway and making me jump. Though he seemed just as surprised to see me as I, him. He looked me up and down, as if looking for something.

“Frost?” I asked, when I’d managed to get my heart into my chest, “What’s up?” I asked, confused by his expression.

He pulled himself upright, resuming his professional stance – I guess he was working after all, “Just surprised to see you still standing.” He told me.

I looked at him confused, “Why wouldn’t I be…” I began, then it hit me, "Frost, what happened last night?”

He furrowed his brow, confused I didn’t know. “I wanted to ask you the same thing.” He said cryptically.

I frowned back at him, “You don’t know?”

“I know you didn’t stay in the room assigned to you.” He admitted, “Boss was pretty mad when he found out.”

“So he does know?” I asked grimacing, “Were you the one that moved me?”

Frost looked at me confused, “Moved you? No. Boss sent us all away once we tracked you down. He closed the door after that but I’d seen that look before on his face and I didn’t think you would make it out alive, let alone unharmed.” He admitted, his mind somewhere else.

Wonderful. I had been asleep in the same room as a pissed off psychotic murderer.

“So how did I get back in the Joker’s room?” I asked, more to myself than to Frost. But I already knew the answer.

Frost shrugged anyway, “He must have carried you back.”

I couldn’t believe it. I stared wide eyed at the kitchen island in front of me. The Joker had carried me, sleeping, in his arms. I could feel my face burning red. Did I snore? Had I had bad breath? Was I heavy? Oh my God this was mortifying.

I knew I should be annoyed at him – pretty pissed actually – that he had forced me basically to sleep in the same bed as him. But right now, all I could feel was an intense burning embarrassment. I was no longer worried that I had been that close to being murdered, I was too busy worrying if I’d made a fool of myself whilst unconscious.

And – wait. He’d been in the same room as me this morning. Did we sleep together? I could feel my eyes widened as the events of last night became clearer. Oh no.

“Ergh!” I groaned in frustration and humiliation, placing my hand forehead in disgrace.

Frost watched me uncomfortably, clearly not sure what to do, “Look,” He said, trying to break through my anguish, “I need to get back to work – I only came down because George said he’d seen you wandering around and asking for directions.” He told me. “Help yourself to anything around the place, no room is off limits but I would stay away from the room directly opposite the stairs – that’s the Boss’s office.” I nodded at him as I took the information in, remembering the door with the men outside, wondering if one of them was ‘George’.

Frost gave me a small smile and quick apology before making to stride off into the house. “Oh,” he recalled suddenly stopping in the doorway, “Boss would like you to join him this evening for a drive.” He informed me.

“Tell him no thanks.” I muttered, “Not sure I have the energy in me to deal with him tonight.” Frost frowned at me, clearly not happy with my response, but gave me a quick nod anyway before continuing back into the depths of the house.

I contemplated the consequences of my decision as I helped myself to some food. Would the Joker be mad I had turned him down? Of course, he would. Would he do anything about it was more what I should be concerned about.

I shuffled around the cupboards as I thought, once again surprised to find that the kitchen was stock to the brim with fresh produce and I had to wonder if it was because of me, or if they always had to keep it stocked in case the Joker made a sudden decision to spend some time here.

The whole time I was in the kitchen I saw no one else – so much so I did consider spending the whole day in the kitchen - but I decided I couldn’t spend a whole week in this huge house just hauled up in this one room, so, after I was done eating, I set out to explore the rest of the maze-like mansion.

There were so many rooms.

There were at least 3 rooms that appeared to be lounges with different arrays of entertainment kits, a large fancy dining room that looked like it was never used, a few rooms that seemed dedicated to drinking alone, the large garage I had arrived via last night and – I noted for future reference – a large library stacked from floor to ceiling with shelves of dusty books.

I was glad to see that none of these rooms seemed to have undergone the redecorating that the hall had, no green paint or bullet holes in sight.

I continued around the ground floor of the house, finding many rooms empty or so dusty that I couldn’t stop sneezing upon entering. I paused when I came across a large conservatory-like room at what must have been the back of the house.

It was humid in here, the rain pattering lightly on the glass roof above. Through the wall of windows in front of me lay a large green lawn with neatly trimmed hedges around the borders, the boundaries stretching out of sight over a hill and the bare outlines of skyscrapers just visible in the distance against the grey sky.

“You know, doll, it’s rude to turn down your host when they offer you a night out?” Came a voice from behind that sent shivers down my back. The voice sounded soft, but dangerous and I turned slowly to meet the Joker standing in the double door entrance to the room.

“Got plans already, huh?” he mocked, “Shame.” He pouted at me cruelly, “Maybe tomorrow night.”

“No thank you.” I managed out, though my voice was croaky and faltered slightly. “I don’t particularly want to do anything with you.” I said bravely.

“No?” He questioned, feigning surprise, “Come now doll,” he teased, “if you keep refusing to even let me try to make you smile, that’s cheating.” He purred dangerously, holding my gaze and his eyes seemed to become stormier, his mouth breathing louder and harsher. I swallowed thickly, regretting my previous words.

“Boss?”

The Joker snarled and span to face the henchman that had appeared next to him, brandishing a piece of paper at arms length as though it was a white flag. The Joker snatched it from him, his eyes darting over the paper as he read it. His jaw clenched and he crumpled the paper in his fist, grumbling something under his breath that sound like ‘If you want something done you gotta do it yourself.’ He gaze shot back up to mine swiftly “Later then, Doll.” He said before departing, the henchman following quickly on behind.

I didn’t linger in that room, just in case the Joker decided to pay me another visit and finish whatever he wanted to do a moment ago. Instead, I continued to wander the house until I finally found my way back to the familiar entrance way, the harsh graffiti and knife art no longer really bothering me anymore. I headed immediately for one door in particular, pushing it open, surprised to see the room hadn’t changed in the slightest.

The large, plump arm chairs still sat next to the unlit fireplace, the dark wood bookshelves still pushed up against the back wall, and the decanter with its matching crystal glasses still sat on the small coffee table between the chairs. And, of course - still sat nestled under the large window that looked out over the front lawn - was the beautiful piano.

I drifted into the room, able to take my time now to examine every inch of the room without the fear from the last time. It was a beautiful room, practically tiny compared to the rest of the house, but still very large compared to anything I had ever lived in.

I sat myself down in one of the cushiony armchairs, admiring the detailed patterns that adorned the fireplace and surveying the rest of the room. Eventually though, I could no longer resist it anymore and stood up, heading straight for the piano. I hesitated, admiring the instrument from afar before I sat gently on the old, faded stool stroking the key cover and lifting it up, a strong sense of déjà vu overcoming me.

The keys, yellow with age, lay out perfectly just begging to be used and I stroked them with longingly.

Frost had said help myself to anything I wanted - there was no one around to disturb here anyway.

So I pressed a key. The noise sounded ridiculously loud to my ears that were so used to the echoing silence of the large house. I waited a few beats, to see if anyone responded to the noise, but when nothing happened I took that as enough reassurance to push another key. I waited again.

I slowly grew in confidence with each passing moment of no response or movement from the rest of the house, soon playing more and more keys until the notes no longer sounded painfully loud to me and I eventually began to play a silly little tune I had been taught when I learnt to play.

My fingers danced over the keys fluidly until I made the tune more complex and intricate, soon forming the music of a song I knew. It didn’t take long before I got caught up in the melody, beginning to hum the song and then sing the words quietly at first and then gaining in volume, though never louder than normal talking level.

I continued to press away at the keys, not taking a break between one song and the next, just playing continuously.

That was until I heard a floorboard creek outside the door. I jumped, my hands slipping on the keys and making a painfully out-of-tune noise. I instantly spun around to the source of the noise, only to find the Joker stood framed in the doorway.

Déjà vu indeed.

He surveyed me for a moment in silence and I wondered if he would continue with what he had wanted to say earlier or if he was going to berate me for making too much noise or daring to be in this room when there was a strict rule, that I was unaware of that, prohibited it.

Or maybe – given he was the Joker and wholly unpredictable – he might just crack a joke at my expense and leave.

However, he did none of these things. He just stood there in silence, the dark shadow around his eyes showing that - though he slept last night - it wasn’t nearly enough.

He lingered only a few moments longer and then he was gone as suddenly as he had come.

I watched the empty doorway for a few moments but he didn’t return. I got up and closed the door quietly - not wanting anymore unexpected audiences - and returned to my music, my heart was still erratic from surprise, and half an ear open for any more footsteps on the floor outside the door.

It was only later that day, as I climbed the stairs to explore the top of the house, that I heard a familiar sound.

Was that my voice.

It was soft and quiet but I could definitely hear it. I back tracked down the hallway till I reached the top of the stairs again. There were no men outside the door this time and I could press up close to the wood.

Sure enough, there it was - quiet but still audible - me and the piano from earlier playing out quietly in the Joker’s office.

I didn’t know what to think about it, so I pushed it to the back of my mind and hurried down the corridor out of sight before I got caught again.

tags: @carouselcurls @6fish6 @viraldragonrider @theartistdetective @white-chocolate-mocha-fan

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