#but I think he’s a neat specimen from the past that I’d like to put in a jar and study

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Test Run

Maru (Stardew) x They/Them Reader

A/N: Four down, two more bachelorettes to go! No warnings should be necessary but let me know if you think there is something I should mention. Hope y’all like this wild day! Word Count: 3,532

“Morning, (Y/n).” Robin greeted as soon as (Y/n) tromped through the door, wiping their feet off on the doormat before stepping fully inside.

“Morning, Robin!” (Y/n) waved. “Maru’s in, right?”

“She sure is. She’s tinkering in her room, head on back.”

“Thank you!” (Y/n) practically skipped as they made their way down the hall before quickly turning and detouring back at Robin’s desk, causing the woman to raise an inquisitive brow. “I almost forgot! I got you this,” (Y/n) ruffled around in their sack and produced a bag of peaches, handing the precious cargo to the eagerly awaiting carpenter.

“Thanks, kid! The fruits that come from your farm are to die for.” Robin praised, already digging into the bag for a fresh picked peach.

“Hey, I’m glad you like them!” (Y/n) beamed. “I’ve started growing strawberries in the greenhouse too as a surprise for Maru. Demetrius seems to be really looking forward to it too.”

“I’ll bet.” Robin laughed, “what else ya got there?”

“A carton of void eggs for Seb. Make sure he paces himself. I still don’t see the appeal of them beyond aesthetics.” (Y/n) said, placing the eggs on the desk.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Robin promised. “Better get moving now. Don’t want to keep my little engineer waiting now, do you?”

“Right! Thanks Robin!” (Y/n) hummed as they made their way to the back of the house. They knocked on the door and called out in a singsong tone, “Maruuu, I’m here!”

“Just a minute!” Maru called.

After some clattering and clanging, Maru’s door opened, the highly intelligent girl wasted no time pulling (Y/n) in before closing the door once more.

“I’m glad you could make it.” Maru said as she gave (Y/n) a warm hug.

“I can always make time for you,” (Y/n) glowed, “so what did you want to show me?”

“First, did you bring the batteries I asked for?” Maru asked.

“Oh yeah! Just a second,” (Y/n) dug into their sack once more and produced a large handful of batteries, “I couldn’t remember how many you needed, so I just brought a bunch.”

“Aw, (Y/n), I only needed two. You can keep the rest.” Maru said.

“Oh don’t worry about it. You always have a use for these things. It’s been storming a lot lately anyway so I’ve got plenty. Take ‘em, I insist.” (Y/n) pressed the batteries into Maru’s hand.

“You are too sweet.” Maru said, kissing (Y/n) on the cheek, leaving them a giggly, lovestruck mess as Maru walked past them to put the extra batteries away for later. “Now for the main event,” Maru turned back to (Y/n), her eyes gleamed behind her glasses.

“Oh boy! What is it?” (Y/n) bounced on their toes, excitedly waiting for their partner to reveal her newest invention.

Maru walked past her vast array of scrap metal and tools to grab an old shoe box that was sitting on top of the schematics that littered her desk. She popped the lid off and showed (Y/n) what laid inside.

“You made shoes? Neat! You are so talented, I wouldn’t even know where to start on a project like that.” (Y/n) praised.

“These aren’t just any shoes,” Maru explained, motioning (Y/n) to sit with her on the bed as she popped the batteries in place, causing the shoes to faintly glow, “these babies are speed enhancers.”

“Woah, cool.” (Y/n) gasped.

“And I would be honored if you would test them out for me, my busy bee.” Maru smiled, tapping (Y/n) on the nose.

“It would be my honor.” (Y/n) laughed.

The couple exited the bedroom and made it to the front of the house just in time to see Sebastian shove a whole void egg into his mouth, shell and all.

“Dude, I didn’t even boil those!” (Y/n) exclaimed.

Seb took a long pause to chew and swallow the egg before answering with a shrug, “It’s the best way to eat them.”

“I’m so concerned about the decisions you choose to make.” (Y/n) grimaced.

“Come on, (Y/n). Let Sebbie enjoy his eggs. We’ve got a trial run to start,” Maru took (Y/n)’s hand in her free one, the other carried the shoe box.

“I have got to see this.” Seb said, cradling his carton of void eggs as he followed the couple out of the house.

Outside, Robin and Demetrius were staring out over the mountains, enjoying the fresh summer air.

“Hey (Y/n),” Demetrius called upon noticing the trio exiting the house, “how’s that erm, special specimen, coming along?”

“Just a few more days I think.” (Y/n) grinned, “I’ll be sure to give you a fair share of the first harvest.”

Demetrius did a little fist pump, “Yes!” he grinned, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Dad, you can talk plants later,” Maru said, presenting (Y/n) the glowing shoes from the box, “(Y/n) and I are kind of in the middle of something.”

“What did you come up with this time?” Demetrius asked, already circling (Y/n) as they took off their boots.

“Shoes?” Robin cocked her head.

“Speed enhancing shoes, mom.” Maru added.

“Ah yes, should have guessed it wasn’t that simple.” Robin chuckled.

Once (Y/n) finished strapping up the shoes, they stood up, looking at Maru expectantly.

“So, what do I do?”

“Press those little buttons on the sides of the shoes and then start jogging.” Maru informed.

“You got it, boss.” (Y/n) bent at the waist and pressed the small buttons, causing a humming noise and a slight vibration to power through the shoes. Then they started a jogging pace, amazed at how light their feet felt.

“Wow, this is really neat Maru!” (Y/n) said, easily running to from the house, to the lake and back in under a minute.

“Nice work, honey.” Demetrius praised, squeezing his daughter’s shoulder affectionately as they watched (Y/n) make another lap.

“Thanks dad.” Maru smiled, after a few more laps Maru called out to (Y/n), “Okay (Y/n), you can stop now. This was a great run. And just to think, this is only the prototype!”

“Actually Maru, I can’t stop.” (Y/n) called out as they made another lap, sweat rolling down their face. “I’ve actually been trying to stop for a couple of laps now and I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“(Y/n)!” Maru slapped a hand against the side of her head. “You should have just told me, here let me help you.” Maru jogged after (Y/n), trying to catch up with them but failed miserably. “Sweetheart, if you could slow down just a tick, I’d really appreciate it.”

“I really can’t.” (Y/n) said. If anything, they only seemed to move faster. “Oh Yoba, Maru, I’m losing control of my coordination!” (Y/n) yelled as their clean, circular laps became squiggly and erratic bursts of speed.

“Hang on, (Y/n)!” Maru breathed heavily as she tried to catch her partner. She turned to her family watching in stunned silence and called out to them. “Can you guys help, please?”

“Oh, right. Of course!” Demetrius and Robin immediately began running after (Y/n) as well. Seb took his time carefully placing his void egg carton of the ground before joining in to try to cut (Y/n) off only for the shoes to juke him and send (Y/n) running the other way.

This went on for a few minutes, leaving the family short of breath, yet still they persisted. Things got more complicated however, when the glow of the shoes began to blink and (Y/n) began running even faster, sending them barreling down the mountain path into town. Maru made a last ditch effort to grab them but ended up falling into the dirt.

“Maru!” (Y/n) screamed, as their body disappeared down the trail.

“Oh damn.” Seb blew out a breath, helping his half sibling to her feet.

“Oh damn indeed.” Robin agreed as she caught her breath.

“Well, can’t just stand here. We got a farmer to catch.” Demetrius spoke up, wiping sweat from his brow.

“I knew I should have made a kill switch.” Maru groaned, dusting off her pants before jogging off after her partner. “Don’t worry (Y/n), I’m coming!”

“Oh Yoba, oh Yoba, oh Yoba!” (Y/n) chanted between breaths as they zoomed past the community center and into town.

“Ey (Y/n)! New training regiment?” Alex called from Dusty’s pen.

“Alex, I can’t stop! Help!”

“What, like you need a spotter or something? I’ve got your back.” Alex said as he began jogging behind (Y/n).

“No Alex, like I literally can’t stop!” (Y/n) called back before screaming. The shoes were sending them straight towards Evelyn, happily watering her plants and unaware of the danger behind her. “Oh my Yoba! Granny, look out!”

“Hm?” Evelyn turned and smiled, still unaware of the very real danger her brittle body was in. “Oh, hello dear. I made some cookies this morning, please help yourself.”

“Oh no!” (Y/n) squealed, covering their eyes with their hands, but luckily just before impact, the shoes took a hard left and spared granny from serious harm.

“Oh, goodbye then dear! Always so busy.” Evelyn shook her head and returned her attention to her plants.

(Y/n) kept running with Alex keeping pace a few yards behind them. They almost ran into Haley as she left her house.

“What the hell, farmer? Watch where you’re going maybe.” Haley grumbled, holding her precious camera close to her chest.

“Sorry Haley!” (Y/n) yelled back. “I have no control over my legs at the moment!”

“Come on, Haley. Help me catch them.” Alex called over his shoulder.

“I don’t run. You know that.” Haley stated plainly. “Good luck with... whatever’s going on there.” She watched the two run off towards the Cindersaps, hummed and shrugged. She positioned her camera and took a few photos before walking off to the beach only to be stopped moments later by the Mountain Road family huffing and puffing in front of her.

“Haley,” Maru wheezed, adjusting her glasses, “did (Y/n) run through here?”

“As a matter of fact, they did. Nearly ran me over too. They and Alex are sprinting to the Cindersap Forest as we speak.” Haley jabbed a thumb behind her shoulder, lazily pointing down the path (Y/n) had disappeared down. “Now I’ll be going. You might want to fix your hair by the way.” She added before continuing on her way to the beach.

“Damn (Y/n), you’re really booking it!” Alex yelled after (Y/n), the distance between them had started to grow.

“Less talking, more sprinting!... on your part, not mine!” (Y/n) yelled back. Their leg muscles were burning and tight as they continued to book it through the forest. As they steadily approached the pond in the distance, squinting, they could see Leah sitting on the dock with sketchbook in hand, enjoying her day.

“Leah!” (Y/n) yelled, startling the artist.

“(Y/n)?” Leah squinted back, using her sketchbook to shade her eyes from the sun.

“I can’t stop running! Do you think you could maybe catch me or push me into the pond when I get there?” (Y/n) asked between gasps of air. But between the distance and the heavy breathing, Leah had no idea what (Y/n) was saying.

“...What?” Leah called back after a moment.

“Push me into the pond!” (Y/n) yelled again, they were already passing Marnie’s farm and the time for Leah to get into position was slipping fast.

“What, why?” Leah was very confused but carefully, she set her art supplies down before hopping to her feet and jogging around the pond to meet (Y/n).

“Wait, no! Don’t stand in front of me, I’m coming in too hot! To the side! To the side!”

Leah was standing like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and hands out in front of her as she fully took in just how fast (Y/n) was moving.

“Leah bro, move!” Alex shouted from behind (Y/n).

But it was too late, (Y/n) collided with Leah head on, sending the poor artist into the water, but somehow (Y/n) managed to stay on land, their shoes immediately began working backwards, taking them back a few feet before sending them in circles around the pond.

“Leah, I’m so sorry!” (Y/n) called hands over their mouth.

Leah coughed and pulled a stringy mass of algae out of her hair, looking down at her soaking wet outfit.

“Why did you do that?” Leah asked, not so much angry as just annoyed, confused and inconvenienced.

“It’s the shoes! Maru made them.” (Y/n) puffed, trying to rub their aching thighs as they kept running. “I can’t stop running!”

“Oh, I see what you’re going for now, you want to try to short-circuit the shoes with water, is that right?” Leah grunted, pulling herself out of the pond. She then futilely wrung water out of the bottom of her shirt.

“Yes!” (Y/n) nodded.

“Don’t worry, (Y/n). I’ll tackle ya if I have to!” Alex shouted, running to meet them head on.

They chased around the pond for several minutes. They had a bit of a strategy going that had Alex on one side of the pond and Leah at the other so they could conserve some energy, yet they still couldn’t catch the farmer.

“(Y/n)!” Maru cried out in relief as she and her family jogged tiredly towards the pond.

“Maru!” (Y/n) called in return, narrowly missing another attempted tackle by Alex. “Please for the love of Yoba, make it stop! My legs are burning so bad!”

“I’ll bet, sorry!” Maru huffed, coming to a stop at Leah’s side and looping arms with the drenched artist while motioning her family forward. “Come on, let’s make a wall!”

“This is kinda like an intense game of red rover, huh?” Leah commented wryly, shivering a bit as a gust of wind came through.

“Just hold on tight! Don’t let go for anything!” Maru said, digging her heels into the dirt.

“Incoming!” (Y/n) gasped, turning sharply around the bend of the pond with Alex tromping behind them.

“Oof!”

(Y/n) struck Maru and Demetrius’ interlocking arms and nearly got the wind knocked out of their lungs. Their legs were still moving, fighting against the obstruction.

“Wrap around!” Robin ordered, pulling Seb inward so they could wrap around (Y/n)’s back to prevent a backup escape. Leah met them on the other side, grabbing onto Robin to lock (Y/n) inside.

Even with this dogpile-esque formation, the group still struggled to rein the farmer in and keep their footing. Alex caught up, hands on knees, and let out a low whistle.

“Not even my gridball coach’s drills make me sweat this much.”

“So, where do we go from here?” Sebastian grunted. He’d have really like for (Y/n) to stop stepping on his feet.

“Yeah, we can’t exactly stay in this weird group hug forever.” Leah added.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Maru, wrapped her arms tightly around (Y/n)’s waist and Alex filled in behind her, between Leah and Demetrius, “Shuffle to the pond, then make an opening. Trip (Y/n) up, and I’ll rush us in.”

“Maru, you’ll get wet too!” (Y/n) exclaimed.

“Water’s fine. Trust me.” Leah said with a half smile and playfully rolled her eyes.

“It’s okay, we do this together,” Maru nodded and tightened her hold. “Start moving!”

“Alright sweetheart, let’s go!” Demetrius rallied, starting to shuffle in the direction of the lip of the pond.

Everyone joined in, making sure not to leave an opening for (Y/n) to unwillingly escape from. Being the closest to their watery destination, Seb and Robin loosened the death grip between them, ready to break apart completely on Maru’s command.

As soon as Maru felt a lull in (Y/n)’s movements, she pushed the farmer forward with a yell.

“Now!” She cried.

Robin and Seb managed to whip their arms away quickly, and watched with mouths slightly agape as Maru tackled (Y/n) into the shallow pond, almost as if they hadn’t expected her to actually go through with it.

The couple surfaced and sputtered, coughing and gasping from the intake of water as well as just plain exhaustion from running around all day.

“Ow, ow!” (Y/n) yelped, their hands moving beneath the water’s surface before reemerging with the pair of sparking shoes. Just as they threw them back on to the shore, a huge plume of smoke burst from them. The scene made those still standing on land back away considerably from the flashy footwear.

“Well,” Maru sighed, still hovering hands and knees above the farmer, beads of water clinging to her glasses, “safe to say that experiment was a bust.”

(Y/n) snorted and sat up to hug Maru, laughing earnestly and breathlessly. “Better luck next time. I suppose. I’m sure you can uh, work out the kinks.”

Maru smiled, hugging (Y/n) in return. Everyone else on the bank watched with little smiles of their own. Even Demetrius who had been wary of (Y/n)’s interest in his daughter initially, was warmed by the sight.

“Well, I think that was enough excitement for me.” Leah clapped, “I’m gonna just grab my stuff and get home to wash this algae smell off of me.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna head home too. Yoba, I’m gonna be feeling this tomorrow. Great workout, see ya around (Y/n).” Alex waved before heading off after Leah, splitting off in the direction of town.

“Are you two going to get out or...?” Sebastian let the words hang.

“I honestly don’t know if I can.” (Y/n) laughed despite themself, chuckling into Maru’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if I can either.” Maru joined her partner’s giggles, “Think we could get a little help?”

“You got it.” Robin said, already kicking off her boots n’ socks and rolling up her pant legs. The carpenter carefully waded into the pond and helped her daughter up first, passing the girl on wobbly legs over to Demetrius’ waiting arms. Next came (Y/n) who got to their feet with a painful moan. The farmer stumbled to shore and hung onto Maru for support.

“Thanks for the help guys.” (Y/n) grinned.

“You’re family,” Demetrius explained, “we weren’t gonna leave you like that.”

“Aw, Demetrius!” (Y/n) cooed, slightly embarrassing the scientist, “I love you guys. Y’all are the best!”

“Even after I made you test those shoes?” Maru asked.

“Yeah!” (Y/n) answered with no hesitation. “Even though I feel like every muscle in my legs have atrophied and turned to jello, I’d happily take on whatever else you need a test subject for. I just love spending time with you.”

“I think we’ll take a break from testing for awhile, though I’m both concerned and touched that you are still willing to be my test subject.” Maru said, picking a stray strand of algae off of (Y/n)’s shoulder.

“Hey, for a pretty genius like you? I’ll be forever at your disposal.”

“(Y/n)!” Maru pushed at their shoulder with a laugh, heat crawling up her cheeks.

“Alright, enough with the love fest.” Robin turned to Demetrius and Seb, “lunch at the Stardrop sound good?”

“Sounds good, hun.” Demetrius nodded, “It’ll be nice to rest before having to trek back up the mountain.”

“Yeah, I was supposed to meet up with Sam and Abi there anyway.” Seb shrugged, though he wished he could at least bring his void eggs back inside the house before hanging out in town.

Robin turned back to Maru and (Y/n). “And you two? Think you can make it?”

“Is it alright if we meet you there? I can take Maru back to the farm to borrow some dry clothes first if that’s okay. And I’m not sure what Gus’ policy is on shoes.” (Y/n) said wiggling their wet, socked toes in the grass.

“So long as there isn’t any funny business.” Demetrius leveled a protective fatherly gaze at the couple. Old habits die hard apparently.

“Dad, don’t be weird!” Maru admonished, already pulling (Y/n) towards the farm, “We’ll, meet you there. An hour tops!”

“Sounds good!” Robin called back, drowning out whatever retort her husband was going to come up with.

Maru stopped for only a second, asking her mom to take the sprinting shoes with her to the pub before turning her attention back to (Y/n) as they babbled on about their pigs as if nothing more substantial happened to them today. Their hands swung loosely between them, fingers intertwined. Maru smiled softly, listening to (Y/n)’s every word about hay and truffle oil. A lull in (Y/n)’s flow provided Maru an opportunity to lean in and give the farmer a chaste kiss.

“Ooo!” (Y/n) beamed before eagerly returning the favor. “Where did that come from?” They asked after a few more kisses were shared.

“I just wanted to kiss my sweet farmer. Much like when you think it’s cute when I talk about my projects, I think it’s cute when you talk about the farm.”

(Y/n) covered their face with their free hand, “Stop, you’ll make me blush. I can feel the blood rushing to my head already.”

Maru grinned, pulling the hand away from (Y/n)’s face to catch their bashful expression. Another quick kiss to the farmer’s cheek and Maru pulled them down the worn path to the farm, careful to watch for anything on the ground that could harm (Y/n)’s stocking feet.

#stardew valley x reader #stardew valley oneshots #sv Maru #stardew valley Maru #maru x reader #sdv #sv #stardew valley

[another-snape-story]

Sowing the Seeds of Liking

Chapter VIII

To your displeasure, the next few days brought you no chance to meet Professor Snape – something you heartily anticipated. You still haven’t thanked him properly for his special gift. Except the task of spreading the Devil’s Snare in one of Hogwarts’ basements Headmaster gave you and your colleague Professor Sprout, you realized you had not much to preoccupy yourself (the gloomy man might’ve known it firsthand).  Whiles your days offered you some job, evenings felt especially lonely, and Thaumatagoria seed which took a conspicuous place on your desk really helped to chase boredom away. You had so many questions and not a single answer. You were not even sure, if you could look for any information about the plant in the library, if it wouldn’t give out your secret, and if it was some kind of a secret at all.  

As it was too early to go to bed, you decided a short walk wouldn’t hurt. You’ve already learned the ways to all strategic places in the castle such as Great Hall, staff room, Headmaster’s office, your own office, Greenhouses, and a few other. So why not to explore some new?

The darkness of the corridor still seemed unfriendly. You felt much better accompanied by… You sighed at the thought. Where could he be? You were not going to knock on his door, clearly, but stealing just one glance from him would certainly make your day better – or to be precise – what was left of it.

Fresh air and a picturesque view opening from higher floors returned serenity into your soul. There was nothing more pacifying than this quiet solitude in the last rays of falling sun. Standing on a balcony, you tried to absorb as much warmth as you could before going back in the cold of the dungeons, which met you with blood freezing howling, as you climbed down. The sound echoing through the passageway frightened you even more, when you realized it was getting closer and closer.

“For Merlin’s sake, Peeves!” you heard a deep voice of a man you longed to see.

Once you felt relieved, a sudden ‘BOO’ in your ear forced a desperate scream out of your lungs, and finally a culprit of all this rumpus materialized out of nowhere, jumping in the air and laughing mischievously.

“I swear, I’m going to kill you, you filthy bastard!” annoyed, you threatened the Poltergeist, being aware his death was, by definition, impossible.

“What a hell do you think you’re doing?” Professor Snape’s voice thundered, as he showed up from around the corner.

Embarrassed, you were about to open your mouth to explain yourself, but without even looking in your direction, the man resolutely strode past you, pressing the naughty guy into the wall.

“I warned you to stay away from here?” Snape growled. “Or you’ve been missing the Bloody Baron? So I can make you a favor and arrange your meeting! Right now.”

“No!” Poltergeist’s face twisted in a fright. “Don’t do it, sir!” he pleaded. “I just couldn’t help giving in to temptation of trying acoustic down here. It’s so incredibly phenomenal!” he raised his eyes in delight. Taking a moment, as Snape’s eyebrows sank to meet at the bridge of his nose, the prankster disappeared again, leaving another wicked laughter resound under the ceiling.

“Loafer!” Snape hissed, turning back to you. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” you sighed. “This place seems to gather all the childish tricks known to the world… Could someone give me a list?”

Displeased expression on your face softened as he slowly approached you.

“I… I’m glad I met you,” you admitted. “I didn’t want to bother you… and since you’ve made yourself rather clear about seeing me at your door…”

A faint smirk curved his lips. “But I don’t remember saying a thing about seeing you in-side,” your heartbeat fastened, as he emphasized the last word stretching it in entrancing manner of his.

You answered him with astonished yet cheerful smile and lowered your head, feeling blood rushing to your face bringing color to your cheeks. “Didn’t know your words could be interpreted this way.”

Once in his office again, you looked around, knowing already how rare all these specimens on his shelves were, but barely holding back from studying them closely – you’ve come here for another purpose after all.

“Take a seat,” the man gestured at an armchair. “I’ll join you in a minute. The idiot didn’t let me finish…” With these words he left you tear apart between manners and curiosity.

You slowly walked along his shelves, taking a note of what they contained and were about to sit where he showed you, as suddenly your glance fell on a carefully folded wool plaid blanket hanging on an armrest. What? You didn’t remember seeing it here the previous time. Did he bring it for you? Was he waiting for you to come? All the flasks which were an object of your highest interest till this moment now blurred in the distance, while your sight narrowed to one small spot on a black old armchair. Coming closer, you traced your palm along woolen fabric, and a soft smile adorned your face.

“Why you’re still on your feet?” the quiet question sounded like another invitation to sit down, so you sank into the cushions, making yourself comfortable, while Professor Snape placed a couple of vials of different size and shape on his desk.

“So what is it, you wanted to talk about?” he didn’t take his usual place, but joined you on another armchair, opposite to yours, peering intently into your eyes.

“I apologize for taking your time…” you started uncertainly, coming to realization, that desire to thank for the seed was actually just an excuse to see him. Still a matter, but of less importance though.

“My schedule is free till the morning,” he stated calmly. “Neat work with the Devil’s Snare, I must admit.”

“Oh,” you were grateful he took the lead in this conversation. “I still doubt it will serve well…”

“Why?”

“The plant is not resistant to light, which makes it not fully reliable.”

“None of these can be considered absolutely reliable,” he agreed.

“Why then it was a choice?”

“Ask Dumbledore,” he sighed, not really pleased with it either.

“And what was your part? I assume this –” with a slight jerk of your head you pointed at the freshly appeared vials on his desk, “– is what kept you busy this whole time?”

“How insightfully,” he sneered.

“Never thought I’d say it,” you laughed, “but your sarcasm suits you so good!”

“Does it?” his brow sprang teasingly, as his glance wandered your face. “Not popular opinion.”

Without taking his eyes off you, he pulled the wand out of his sleeve and waved it to the side, lighting the fireplace – the gesture suggested he was eager to bear you longer than you’d expected, what pleasantly surprised you. Although his words might be scratchy sometimes, his actions spoke otherwise, and you couldn’t help enjoying it.

“You don’t often use it, do you?” you smiled gratefully, trying to hide your hands under a corner of the blanket, which still hung on the armrest, and which you still didn’t dare to lay hold of without permission.

“Not really,” he confirmed your assumption. “You may take it,” your movement didn’t go unnoticed, clearly.

“Thank you,” you shyly pulled the blanket on your shoulders and snuggled in its welcoming warmth. You felt much more comfortable now, not only physically, but also emotionally. Even though the man looked as cold as it was in his office, the softness of his tone and rare shadows of a smile betrayed it was just a seeming.

“So. Do you like it here?” Snape asked quietly.

“Did I fail to express how thrilled I was with everything you have in your dungeon?” you took another chance to look around.

“Not this particular place,” he smirked, “but Hogwarts in general.”

“Hogwarts. Sure…” you laughed again, not believing your own stupidity. “May I tell you tomorrow, when students arrive? I absolutely love it just like this, but I’m not sure I could repeat these words after children overflow the castle.”

Once sullen and apparently ill-tempered, Professor Snape now smiled with content. You must have said something he felt the same about. This smile suited him even more than his sarcasm, but by no means were you going to apprise him of it.

Your lively conversation purled so naturally, touching many different subjects – most of which were professional though, but surely not without some additional guidance about the school – none of you did even think of putting an end to it, and when you mentioned the magical seed of Thaumatagoria, there was no chance of you to ever stop.

Snape found your company surprisingly pleasant, pacifying in a way. It frightened him as much as it delighted him at the same time. Although he still knew not much about you, the one and the main thing he recognized distinctly – you had a pure soul, and there was no way he could let someone harm you.

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Tag: @diaryofafan17 @yul-is-sparkling @fullmoonshadowwrites @forthehonourof @mayumikurosake @redrehab @space-helen @fluffymadamina nadiigh

#snape #severus snape #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfiction

[aiimaginesbts]

Beautiful Resemblance

A/N: A short fic written for Lucien’s birthday :)

Reader x Gavin

Genres: Fluff (PG-13?)

Word count: 3,539 words

Disclaimer/Copyright. Photo from Mr Love: Dream Date.

There’s a growing chill in the air with each passing day that keeps me on my toes. By the time I flip at the calendar on my desk and see the word ‘November’, anxiousness and excitement that have been building up for the past few weeks had hit me all at once. I can’t wait for that day to come. However, if I don’t finish the task I’ve set for myself in time, it will all be for naught.

Just a little over a week earlier, Lucien had unwittingly solved the problem that had been plaguing me since the end of autumn while we were walking down a shopping street together. “Look, isn’t that a figurine of that idol you’re friends with?”

“Huh?” Stopping in my tracks, I’d turned my attention towards the display in the store window that Lucien was pointing at. A small figurine, not much bigger than my hand, stood out amongst other dolls lined up to its right and left. “Oh, wow.” Wanting to take a closer look, I’d unthinkingly released Lucien’s hand to step closer to the glass window. It might have been small, but the details were all there – Kiro’s attention-grabbing blue eyes, the highlights in his blond hair, his bright smile, even his lean muscles – heat had crept up to my face as I’d remembered what a perfect physical specimen he was. It was like a mini-Kiro was right there in front of me. The thought of owning a tiny Kiro amused me to no end, and I’d giggled. “It really is the spitting image of Kiro!”

“Hmm.” Stepping beside me, Lucien had peered into the window, trying to see what I was seeing. “Does that mean you know his features well?”

“Huh? Oh…” Lucien’s sudden question had surprised me. I hadn’t thought of it that way. “I guess… We have worked together several times. Plus, he’s famous. You see him everywhere nowadays.”

“Really? But, if I’m not mistaken, we’ve worked together more, haven’t we?” Pressing further, Lucien had forced me to call forth the number of times he’d appeared on my show; Miracle Finder, and all the times we’d spent together working on planning it. “I’m quite sure that I’ve appeared on your show far more frequently than he has.”

“Yes, of course you have. You’re our guest expert, after all.” My gratitude for all his help had automatically brought a brilliant smile to my face.

“Then…” With one step forward, Lucien had brought himself mere inches away from me. As if that wasn’t enough to leave me all flustered, he’d taken back the hand that I’d let go earlier. “Do you remember my features as well as you know your idol friend’s?”

“Uh-huh,” I’d said stupidly, blinking up dazedly as he’d stared down at me. How was I supposed to think when his gorgeous face was so close to mine that I could feel his warm breath fanning over me? Summoning all my willpower to focus, I came up with an answer; “I can’t really say for sure when you’re right in front of me, Lucien. It’s only when I don’t see you that I can try to recall what I remember.”

“Fair enough.” It’d felt like I’d been released from a spell when Lucien had straightened back up, putting a bit of distance between us. He’d still held on to my hand, though. Not that I was complaining – the heat radiating from our point of contact was welcome in this cold weather. Yet I’d found myself thinking that I wouldn’t have minded it even if he’d held onto me on a hot, sunny day in summer. “Shall we go now?”

“Okay,” I’d given in to his gentle tugging, but as we’d walked off, I’d found myself glancing back towards the store for a final look at mini-Kiro. Even though I’d known all along how popular Kiro was, seeing such a merchandise still came as a nice surprise. Being friends with such an amazing star felt like a dream.

“Do you want to buy it?” Lucien had misinterpreted my attraction to the figurine, and his expression had fallen a little. It was almost as if he was pouting. My attention was drawn back to him instantly. This wasn’t an expression that I saw very often, if at all.

“No,” I’d clarified with a shake of my head. “It’s just mind-boggling that the person I personally know is a toy.”

Chuckling, Lucien had mused, “I wonder if collectors would agree to such a simple term as ‘toy’. But,” he’d smiled teasingly at me, all sulking gone now, “if there was a toy of you, I’d buy it immediately.”

Even though I’d laughed it off then, the thought had stayed with me long enough until I’d found the time to visit an arts and crafts shop two days after that. After explaining what I intended to make, one of the shop assistants had kindly taught me the basics that I’d need. Although I’d managed to buy all the things for the present that I want to make, I’d been so busy with work since that it’s only about half-finished now. The panic is starting to begin in earnest.

Looking at my phone as I hurry up to my apartment, I calculate that I only have less than a week to finish the present before Lucien’s birthday. The unfinished doll sitting on my coffee table is still rough in its development, with only the basic shape of a human, but without any discerning features. I suppose this is where I need to call on my powers of recollection, huh? Lucien’s question the other day about me remembering his features are called to mind, and I can’t help grinning to myself as I work on sewing the doll.

Fortuitously, Lucien is coming on set to shoot an episode of Miracle Finder the very next day. As he talks to the cameras, I find myself watching him intently, paying more attention to his fine features than I normally would. It’s no secret that Lucien is incredibly good-looking, but I’ve never given much thought to his defining attributes. His black hair is kept short and well-trimmed, in line with the rest of his appearance – Lucien has a very neat look. Without his loose, white lab coat, his sturdy build is more apparent underneath his crisp, black dress shirt and slacks. The dark colours contrast sharply with his fair skin, making him look far more noble than the average guy.

However, the feature that draws my attention immediately every time is, without a doubt, his perplexingly beautiful violet eyes. It’s not just the colour, though. There’s wisdom beyond his age hidden behind those vivid irises, so mysterious and intriguing that I can’t help wanting to stare into them for hours just to see if I can uncover what’s hidden within those depths. And yet whenever he smiles as he teases me, a little weight seems lifted from the heavy sadness that always lurks there. I’ve always wished that I can make him smile. Always. So that one day there will be no trace of that sorrow left behind.

Before I know it, shooting is wrapped up, and those eyes I’ve been watching for so long flick in my direction. Oops. Afraid that I’ve been caught in the act, I hurriedly look down at my notebook, although I have completely forgotten why it’s lying open in my lap.

“Is there something on my face?” A soft voice so close to my right ear that his breath ruffles my hair makes me jump in my seat. From the silence that follows – even my co-worker, Kiki’s excited, non-stop chattering comes to a pause – I know that the whole studio heard my startled yelp. Blood rushes to my cheeks immediately. Looking up at the source of my shock, the heat gathered in my face intensifies when I find myself almost nose to nose with Lucien, who’d bent down to whisper in my ear.

Seeing my astonished reaction elicits a low chuckle from him. It’s infuriatingly charming, because that’s what Lucien does to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologises, although his sincerity isn’t all that convincing when he’s literally laughing in my face. I start to pull my face into an indignant pout, then stop when he continues, “It serves you right for staring at me all through the recording session. I could barely concentrate.”

That soft, beguiling grin of his is as nonchalant as ever, making me wonder if his words are really honest or just meant to tease me. On the other hand, regardless of my doubt, just the thought of him being distracted by me is enough to make me flustered. Oh, but I can’t tell him that I really was looking at him! “I was not staring at you!” Panic causes my denial to come out as an unconvincing, embarrassing shriek.

“Really?” Drawing up to his full height, Lucien rubs his chin thoughtfully. Knowing full well that he doesn’t believe me at all, I can’t look up at him. Instead, I give my attention to the notebook in my hand, even though I can’t make sense of anything that’s written on the white pages. “I could have sworn that I have holes from your eyes boring into me.”

“Even if that’s true, which it isn’t,” I ground out, aware of my imminent defeat but refusing to surrender, “You scared me out of my wits, so I’d say we’re even.”

“Indeed. Well, I suppose I’ll have to let you go this time,” he raises his arms in mock surrender, then stoops back down to whisper, “but I won’t go so easy on you next time.”

That titillating threat, blown into my ear like a delicious promise, sends shivers down my spine. Even though I’m at a loss for a comeback, I instinctively turn to face him, but Lucien is already walking away. Remembering that he’d said he still has some work to finish, I refrain from going after him. It’s already very gracious of him to spend his precious time recording my show. I shouldn���t bother him any further.

Fortunately, getting the recording for the next episode done gives me the time and motivation I need for the last spur of effort in finishing Lucien’s present. With the last stitching done to keep a purple button in place, I cut the thread and lean back to examine my handiwork. As far as homemade crafts go, it’s pretty good, even if I do say so myself. I’ve spent some time today to go pick up a small cake at the bakery after work, but I knew I’d have time to finish before midnight. Any weariness I may be feeling dissipates when I look at the doll and think about the man it represents.

And just in time, too. The clock hung on the wall opposite me shows that it’s ten minutes to midnight as I wrap the present with a soft, thin cloth and tie a ribbon at the top. That’s when it hits me; I’d completely forgotten to do the most important thing – ask Lucien if he’s free tonight!

Cursing my own carelessness, I jump off the sofa to get my phone. I was so absorbed in finishing the doll that I didn’t notice if there was that muted noise of the front door of the apartment next to mine closing or not, which would tell me that Lucien’s come home. Even my phone is still in my bag where it has been since I got back. Fishing the device out of my bag, I see that I have one missed call and two messages from the man himself.

“Are you home? I saw your lights are on.”

“Too busy to answer my call?”

Trying to calm myself down so I don’t give anything away, I call Lucien. “Hello?” After three rings, the familiar, comforting voice greets my ear.

“Hi. Sorry for the later response. I was a little distracted,” I say a little breathlessly. My eyes stray towards the clock again. Six minutes to midnight. “Is it okay for me to come over?”

“Now?” He asks, mild curiosity colouring his tone.

“Yes, if you don’t mind. If you’re busy, I won’t stay for very long.” I wished that he isn’t but I quickly add the last sentence anyway, afraid of being turned down.

There’s a short pause on the other end. “… Sure.” The answer prompts me to let out a breath I’m not aware I was holding. “You can stay as long as you want.”

Normally his last statement would be enough to send me into a tizzy, but I’m too pressed for time to put much thought into it. “Be there soon.” As soon as I hang up, I hurry to take the cake out of the fridge, already placed on a nice white plate. All that’s left is to light the candles. A few minutes later, I’m standing before Lucien’s door, wondering how to press his doorbell when I’m struggling to balance the cake and the present in my hands.

Just then, the door opens, revealing Lucien on the other side. “Oh! How did you know I’m here?”

“It’s easy to notice, since I’ve been waiting for you,” Lucien gives me another one of his easy smiles before he looks down at my offerings. “And what is this?”

Internally scolding myself for getting distracted, I burst into a Happy Birthday song. The corners of Lucien’s lips spread out further as he waits for me to finish. “Thank you. Would you like to come inside now?”

“Uh, yes.” Belatedly feeling foolish for singing in the corridor, I hurriedly follow him into his apartment. He closes the door behind me, but doesn’t go further into the house. Feeling awkward standing in the narrow entranceway, I ask, “Shouldn’t we go in?”

“We should,” Lucien agrees. “But before that…” Suddenly, he steps closer to me, prompting me to step back reflexively. There isn’t much space left behind me, so my back immediately hits the wall. Even though he rests a hand on the wall next to me so casually, the effect it has on me is world-shaking. Lifting my chin up, my heartbeat thunders in my ears as he leans down, moving closer and closer to me. “Perhaps I should blow the candles out before they go out on their own.”

“Oh. Right.” Stupid me and my overactive imagination! Trying to will the heat away from my face, I lift up the cake so Lucien can blow out the candles. The light in the entranceway isn’t on, and in the dimness of the small space lit only by the light from his living room, the flickering light from the candles bathes his face almost magically as he moves closer to them. With part of his face shielded by his falling bangs, what I can see of his face glows like an ethereal being. Then he takes a deep breath and releases it over the candles, extinguishing them all in a single exhale, and the moment is over, finally returning my senses to me.

Unaware of how captivated I was by him, Lucien moves away and invites me in. The desk he works at in the corner is littered with papers, but his coffee table remains neat and clear, giving me space to set down the cake and my gift. “Are you still working?”

“I just finished when you came,” he assures me. Although not entirely convinced that he’s telling me the truth, I don’t want to contest his statement. Just give me a chance to give this to him properly. I won’t disturb him for too long, I vow to myself.

“You shouldn’t be working on your birthday, you know.”

“Well, my birthday just started, so technically, I wasn’t.” Informing me of this so matter-of-factly is meant to rile me up, so I fight the urge to pout like I know he’s expecting. Sensing my infuriation anyway, Lucien’s lips perk up as he takes a seat next to me on the sofa. “Besides, now I have the best excuse to stop working and unwind. I can’t think of a better way to start my birthday and end my night than spending it with you.”

Sweet words like thick honey leaves me at a loss for words, and I turn away before he can see how affected I am by them. Correctly assuming that he can’t get a response from me – not anytime soon, anyway – he reaches out for the small bundle next to the cake. “Is this for me?”

“It’s a gift for your birthday,” I confirm with a nod. “It isn’t much, though.”

“No gift from you is too little.” Holding the present in his hands carefully as if it’s precious china, his eyes shine with something that I don’t remember ever seeing before. He looks… happy. Just seeing it lifts my spirits up to new heights. “Can I open it?”

“Go ahead.” As his long, elegant fingers tug at the purple ribbon, my heart starts racing again. For a different reason this time. Is it really good enough to be a present? Would such a clumsy, hand-made knick-knack be a good fit for someone as classy as Lucien? Will he hate it? Questions fly through my mind like a tornado as he unveils the present.

Once he pulls the ribbon, the white cloth that has been wrapping the gift falls away, revealing the doll. Lucien’s eyes widen as he takes it in. Well, at the very least, it seems like I’ve managed to surprise him. It isn’t very big – just about as tall as the tablet he uses at work – but in his large hands, it looks really tiny. Said hands pick it up and turn it over, observing my handiwork from every angle. I feel like my work is being put under careful inspection, and it’s making me really nervous. “It’s nothing special, it’s just a hand-made thing after all. Nowhere as detailed or impressive like the figurine we saw the other day…”

“Yet to me, it is the more precious and amazing than anything you can buy at a store,” Lucien finishes for me, cutting my self-depreciating babbling short. My spirits perk back up with his words. Does that mean he likes it, after all?

“I do. Judging from this, I suppose we can conclude that you do remember my features well,” he answers happily when I’ve mustered enough courage to ask. Then he sobers. “Although, there is just one problem.”

“What is it??” Once again, I start to panic, holding myself back just enough so that I don’t snatch the gift away from him to see what’s wrong with it. Is there a loose thread? Are the violet-button eyes lopsided? Is the pristine white lab coat it’s wearing stained?

Watching my barely-contained anxiousness, Lucien lets out a light, mirthful laugh. “If you remember our conversation from the other day, I said I’d like a doll of you, not of myself.”

“Oh.” For a moment, relief washes over me, before his words sinks in and draws out shyness instead. How could I make a doll of myself?! And especially as a present for him! I’m nowhere near that self-confident enough for that. Trying to wiggle my way out, I giggle nervously. “What would you want something like that for? So you can stick pins in it?”

“I would never do something so horrible to anything that looks as cute as you are,” he titters at the thought. “It’s simply so that I can bring you with me everywhere I go, and look at you all that I want. But since you wouldn’t make me one, you’ll just have to stay by my side. Always.” He shifts closer to me on the couch, until our knees are bumping into each other. My heart drums an erratic beat as he moves closer and closer, until our lips are just about to touch. Then he stops.

Having him stare at me with barely any space between us is making me squirm with anticipation and longing. After a few seconds, I can no longer bear it. “Um, Lucien…?”

“Hmm?” He’s so close that I can feel his very lips vibrating from the sound that he makes.

“Wha– what are you doing?” I whisper. It feels inappropriate to speak above the softest volume imaginable. At this distance, he can hear me breathe anyhow.

“Why, looking at you all I want, of course.” I can hear the trill of laughter in his answer, but I can’t think rationally enough to get mad at him for teasing me, much less come up with a witty retort. “Although… there is no way I can stop myself when you’re this close to me.”

Before I can ask him what he means, Lucien closes the infinitesimal gap between us, and anything I might have to say is lost in our kiss. Wrapped in his tender embrace, drowning in his gentle kisses, I don’t think I mind him looking at me all that much, after all. If this is how it’s going to be, I wish Lucien’s birthday would never end.

Thank you for reading! All feedback is welcome.

#mldd #mlqc #mldd lucien #lucien #lucienxreader #mr love

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Poison and Wine || Morgan & Miriam

Just two undead gals being pals.

@meflemming

The hide, not yet treated, floated in the water like forgotten flotsam after a wreck, or perhaps a dead body. Morgan had only floated in the deep after coming back from the dead, where she could rise or sink at will. She couldn’t imagine how she might have looked if her curse had tried to drown her instead, if Remmy would have had to fish her out with a hook, or their bare hands, but maybe it would have been something like this. “And you say this helps you feel more alive?” She asked, curious underneath her snark. “Do you think this is like, a thing for people like us? Searching for life in more death?” she mused.”I’ve spent a lot of time this past month watching animals die and thinking about taxidermy.”

Hair pulled back and sleeves rolled up, Miriam added a few chemicals to the water so that the hide didn’t damage while it soaked. It’d be a while before it was ready to go into the liming process, but she had a few pieces in various states of treatment to show off to Morgan since the other woman had been curious enough about the process. “Well, perhaps it’s a thing for you, but this goes a bit further back for me,” Miriam said, lips quirked up. She washed her hands, explaining, “Leatherworking has been in my family since before we moved to White Crest several odd generations ago. Though, I will admit, the process of dying has become much more interesting. I suppose since I can’t do it again…” She raised an eyebrow. “Taxidermy, though? An interesting pursuit. A fun one, too, I’ve heard.”

“I didn’t take you as someone into tradition, Mim,” Morgan said. “You seemed like such a renegade. Still, I mean you’re heading this operation by yourself. And everything here is…” More than a little impressive. Even to her undead senses, the leather workshop was rich with the smell of creation, death into a different kind of life. The tools were heavy, plain, and simple. The tables, spacious. Everything had its place, its purpose, its balance. It looked like the most beautiful puzzle to Morgan. “Yeah, you can’t really watch your own death, you only remember the part where it hurt, and where it was quiet. Or--I mean, do you? Still remember?” She sped along with the other train of discussion, just in case it was too personal, even for the strange bond of undeath between them. “Yeah, well, my girlfriend dabbles and I spent a lot of time in the shed where she works. Playing with glass eyes and small specimens she’s done. It’s kinda neat, how they get suspended in time, sometimes a little prettier, a little happier looking than they were before. Some of them still look alive, if it weren’t for how still they are. It’s...interesting, I guess. I think skinning the critters is going to be the hardest part, if I ever try. I kinda go apeshit for some nice, raw, dead tissue.”

“I have a head for business and a talent for making things, dearest,” Miriam said breezily. “And I put more work into this business than my father ever did. I actually make things. He simply ran them.” She looked around her home workshop, everything neat and orderly and accounted for. Her father had it built for her after… well, after. No windows for sunlight to escape in, and it was connected to the house through the wine cellar. It was the perfect workspace for all sorts of work, and Miriam took more than a little pride in it. She grew quiet, trying to think of her death. The car wreck, the pain and the heat of it, was still fresh on her mind. “I remember it rather clearly, though I couldn’t even begin to tell you when the troubles of my life ended and the troubles of my unlife began. Someone, though, came along, and here we stand. Making leather.” She walked over to a piece that was closer to being finished, the hide already cured and turned into actual leather. She’d been toying around with it, a messenger bag, perhaps, tooling floral designs into the flaps of it. On the table in front of it was the designs sketched out more clearly onto paper, so she had a rough idea on what she was creating. Next to it was a sketch of a pair of heeled boots she thought about attempting, though it’d been quite some time since she’d attempted shoes. “It’s all a bit macabre how we make beautiful things out of death, isn’t it? Jackets, taxidermied animals, it was all living once and we… I don’t guess I could say that I’m doing much to preserve it, but.” She looked Morgan over. “You’re still very new to all of this. Control comes with experience. Until then… Perhaps you can help her with the less bloodied parts?”

Morgan hadn’t considered that Miriam’s work would be a pragmatic choice. But she’d never had anything passed down to her except her curse, nothing she could use or consider her own. She was used to using whatever she had on hand, though. And this, well, she could admit was a pretty good ‘whatever’ to lean on in a crisis. “Do you identify more as an artist or a craftsman?” She asked, hearing Miriam’s pride in doing the heavy work on her own. “Oh, yeah, I think...that’s the hope right now. I haven’t really got up the nerve  to see her while she’s working, but I fiddle with the tools sometimes, the glass eyes. It’s weird, what pains people will take to make something fake look like it has a spark of life. Although,  I think it’s all in the lid sculpting, from what I can tell. Even in people, it’s the skin that signals emotion, or the eyebrows,” She gestured to Miriam’s own expression with a smirk.

Morgan wandered over to the work in progress, ghosting her finger along the shapes tooled into the leather. “With leather I guess it’s different,” she said. “What do you think about, when you’re making it into something? What are you trying to capture?”

Considering the question, Miriam cocked her head to the side, considering her work. “I suppose it depends on who you ask. One of my teachers in college would have said an artist. Between my sketches, and I’ve dabbled in other mediums. But some businessmen I’ve worked with would say a craftsman. All the work that goes into the craft, the labor behind it. But you asked me.” She paused. “I’d say there’s an art to the craft. I can do practical. I made a saddle once. Someone recently asked me for a harness.” Though, that one seemed to be more for pleasure than practicality. “But I like detail, and adding artistic flair to my work. I want it to be personal. When I do something, I like it to be one of a kind. I have two employees for the shop in town. We all work everything by hand, though they rarely cure their own leather. I buy supplies for them, and they make it lovely. They make it into art. So, I suppose it’s all about the piece, really.” She smirked, allowing her face to be more expressive. “There’s your convoluted answer for the day. Though I’m sure I’ll have more. And people don’t want it to seem fake. They want it to seem preserved. A dear family pet isn’t really dead, only sleeping by the fire. They want the illusion of well-preserved life.”

Miriam looked over at the piece, moving a bit closer to Morgan. How strange; she was rarely around other members of the undead. It was almost as quiet as if she was alone in the room. Not a single heartbeat between the two of them. “Mostly I’m trying to capture what the buyer wants,” she said wryly. “But sometimes, I’m simply playing around. I think about what looks pretty. If it’s something I could stand to own myself or not. I might see a design in something and think I can do it better, so I make the attempt. The end result is either something that can be sold at an extremely high price or an extremely low one.”

“You’re gonna hate this, but putting my spin on a commission was my favorite part of the alchemy-crystal game,” Morgan said, looking thoughtfully at the sketches on the table, carefully picking up one sheet, then the other. “Every once in a while I got some really boring, overly-detailed request, usually ugly too. But some people would say, I want an amethyst mirror, I want a smoky quartz ring holder that reminds me of my cat’s left paw, and that was it. That middle space, where what they want becomes part of the challenge, or the fun, was the best. I don’t even know how many sketchbooks like these I threw out.” She brushed her hands on her skirt, as if dusting away the memory, the longing for those hours. “Whatever I do next will be the old-fashioned way, don’t worry,” she said wryly. “A set up like this would be nice. It feels lived-in, for lack of a better word. I bet you could pass a whole day here and not notice a thing. Or maybe that’s just me? Time has a way of getting slippery. I’m not good at coming home when I’m supposed to unless I set an alarm. If it wasn’t for everyone else, I don’t think I’d mind so much. Days and nights don’t mean as much when you don’t sleep. But I guess that’s different for you, you sleep a little, right?” She danced her fingers on the edge of the table, pressing down, testing how much of it she could feel. “Do you have anyone, that makes time matter for you?”

“You were certainly good with your craft,” Miriam said, only a bit begrudgingly. She had the decanter Morgan made in the house, filled with quality bourbon. She’d yet to actually drink any of it, but she stared at it sometimes, torn between being disgusted and impressed. “I’ve always liked it when customers give me that bit of creative license, the freedom to give them what they want without it being too specific.” She did raise a single eyebrow a bit at Morgan’s comment. “Morgan, dear, I know it’s not quite the same,” not as wholly wrong, “as it was before, but, for better or worse, you’ll always be using magic with whatever you apply yourself to for the rest of your days. There’s no more old-fashioned way.” She looked around, taking pride in her workshop, the one place that she felt at home. “I do pass the whole day in here occasionally. Sometimes several days. No eating, no sleeping, no noticing the time until it’s pointed out to me.” She shrugged, leaned against the workbench. Miriam didn’t slump; she was raised better than that, but she did grab a pencil and twirl it between her fingers, thoughtful. “I sleep?” She hated how it sounded like a question. “Not for long, and it’s not… I don’t particularly dream or anything. I suppose it’s just rest. The closest I got to sleeping lasted for several years and was closer to death, I think.” She watched Morgan’s fingers and the slight dent in the table they caused. She didn’t say anything about it, though, too focused on the question. Did she? No. She had acquaintances, occasional dalliances, but no one who made time matter. That had been Theo and his family and her family. They were all gone now. Now, all she had was revenge, and that didn’t make time matter; it just made it drag. “I have my work,” she said breezily, while not being specific as to what work she meant. “It’s no person, but it serves its purpose.”

“What do you mean no more old-fashioned way? Like, because--” Because she was dead? Or un-dead rather? Morgan hadn’t thought of it that way before. Obviously what had happened to her wasn’t the norm. Dead people, generally speaking, did not come back. The soft nothing space she had slept in was the end of all things. There were no more sunrises or lovers or rabbits any more than there was no more sleep, no more taste. And with magic dead inside her, she carried that betrayal. She hadn’t thought that it was keeping her alive, somehow. That it had seeped into her corpse and carried her through her existence. But if it wasn’t her heart, what else could she call it? “Because of what I am? W-what--” She looked down at her hands, pasty and dead and--still, somehow hers. “Does that ever bother you? That you’re a little magic too? That the same energy in the universe that I used to control is part of why you’re still here? I just-- I’ve never even thought of it that way before,” and now that she had, now that she could, her mouth quirked upwards in a small guilty smile of wonder. How could she never have asked herself that before? And how did Miriam know, and want to comfort her with that truth? “I just wonder how you could, much less say it so easy like that.” She looked at Miriam thoughtfully, and wondered if her loneliness had been part of why she’d felt drawn to her before. She’d lost so much, even before she died, and she knew pain well enough to become bent and twisted by it. How heavy must it be to do that? “You should let yourself have people, Miriam,” she said. “Sometimes they’re the only thing that makes a day mean anything.” She held her gaze for as long as she could. Morgan wasn’t sure if Miriam would listen, if she knew that she meant it, but she hoped. Morgan rubbed her hands on her skirt and reached under the table to pop the dents she’d made smooth again. “Is there, uh, anything else I can see?”

“On the nose,” Miriam said quietly. “We’re just dead things reformed by something impossible to truly understand until we’re no longer quite dead.” She’d spent hours thinking on it, fretting about it. What she was, what made her, or, rather, unmade her. She had, for the early years, clung desperately to the idea that she might have survived that wretched car crash. It wouldn’t have killed her. She would have been fine. She’d been resentful of others like her, particularly those who weren’t bound to the town or molded by white-hot revenge. Eventually, she’d come to terms with magic, what it was and what it was for. “I have no problem with magic, Morgan. I truly don’t. It’s a beautiful thing, you know. But it doesn’t belong with humans.” How humans perverted magic. They used it and twisted it into beautiful things, sometimes, like Morgan’s crystals, but also awful, wretched things. “Magic corrupts them all, in the end. Kills them. It killed us.” Miriam places a hand over her unbeating chest. “Only difference is that it keeps us alive as well.” She knew she wasn’t going to get Morgan to see her side. Spellcasters, even former ones, rarely did. Though, she supposed that was usually because the conversation was a bit one-sided; she talked, they screamed. It made it so hard for them to hear her. The last one had screamed until he couldn’t; he’d been about useless, unable to tell her about any local covens or even how to fix her White Crest-locked predicament. He left his shoe, too. She saw it out of the corner of her eye but was careful not to draw too much attention to it. Instead, she met Morgan’s eyes and smiled. “Perhaps you’re right. It’d do me good to have,” she paused, ruminated on the word, “friends. We are so useless alone.” She clapped her hands together and looked around. “There’s not too much else going on in here, but there’s a set of stairs and a tunnel that connect to the house’s wine cellar so I can avoid sunlight. My mother’s idea.” It was also so the staff wouldn’t see the family’s bloody secret lurking around in the dark, but still. It was a nice gesture. “I have a fairly decent collection of alcohol. It’s practically useless unless in large quantities, but it’s pretty to look at.”

“A car killed you, unless there’s more to the story. Not that you have to share either, but—” Morgan shrugged, mouth stretched in a sympathetic grimace. “But my family curse killed me. So you’re not wrong there. I just didn’t think about magic as bringing me back. The magic I did before didn’t really look like this.” She slid off her cuff and showed the scar near her wrist in the shape of Remmy’s mouth. “But you’re right. Nothing else to call it.” She tugged the cuff back down and tugged on her sleeve for good measure. “And I am, about having friends. I don’t know how much you believe me, but I mean it. You should get to have people, Miriam. It means a lot, to be known.” She smirked at the idea of the wine cellar. “Hey, at least you can get drunk at all. I’m down to appreciate the aesthetic though.” She wandered over to the walls, looking for the stairs and room in question. She’d thought there’d be more, but it was almost a relief to see that Miriam held on to some of her humanity, even with the side murder.

“A car headed to confront my husband, who was only using me for money so that he could fund his coven’s magic is what killed me,” Miriam said with a shrug. It was fine. She’d come to terms with it. Her jacket was on the back of the chair she was standing near. She stroked the sleeve gently. “See, it’s magic that’s keeping us alive. Not what human’s can practice, of course.” They were doomed if spellcasters learned how to do whatever bullshit it was that made vampires and zombies. Then again… Necromancers. Miriam fucking hated spellcasters. She smirked, though. “Well, I do thank you for that, Morgan. I should invest in some people. Friends.” She batted her eyelashes, knowing it probably wouldn’t work with Morgan having a girlfriend but not being one to turn down an opportunity. “We can be friends, I hope? Put all the silliness of the past behind us?” She led the way to the stairs, wondering if she should move the shoe but deciding against it. “Have you tried mixing alcohol with, I don’t know, organs? That might get you a little buzzed. Blood always helps me.”

“People aren’t investments,” Morgan childed mildly. “It doesn’t necessarily speak badly of you if things don’t ‘pay off’ the way you want. What speaks well of you is that you try anyway.” She answered Miriam’s fluttering lashes with a coy smile, a roll of her eyes. It was a little late to pretend there wasn’t something of a connection between them. Mriam understood what it meant to walk through death in a way like she did, and without a reason to fear her, Morgan found the return of a feeling she’d had before: a wish that Miriam would let someone ease her pain a little, that she would let go and allow herself a different way of being. “We can be friends, yeah,” she said gently. “And, tragically, no boozy combo I’ve tried yet seems to take the edge off. So that’s one point for vampires!” She followed Miriam towards the dark hall, trailing her fingers on the wall. She noticed a stray shoe strewn absently as she went, pointing to it as she asked, “Do you, uh, get a lot of company down here?”

“Nonsense,” Miriam said. “I was always taught that people were investments. Good ones, if you went about it the right way.” But she could see what Morgan was saying. Relationships were meant to be enjoyed. They were good things, usually. Unfortunately, when all was said and done, Miriam had done a bit too much to allow anyone to get too close. She didn’t regret any of the wretches she’d killed; why, she could barely even remember their faces. Sure, the first few times had been rough, and sure, she ached for something to fill the whole inside of her, the one that wasn’t desperate for revenge and blood. But she was quite good at pushing all of that aside, pretending she was whole. She was still a young vampire, after all, more years in the ground than she’d spent as a creature of the night. Perhaps she’d eventually get used to feeling like this. And, if not, well. She’d read that vampires could turn it all off, if they so desired. Whatever would happen to her if she couldn’t feel her anger and rage? Her thirst for revenge? She didn’t know. Maybe she’d find out. “Darling, you can still go out in the sun. I’d trade all the booze in the world for a nice day sunning down at Dark Score. But maybe we can find something out there for you.” Looking at the shoe, she gave Morgan a wink. “Well, I did say I liked to have dalliances, didn’t I?”

Morgan winced, feeling guilty for bemoaning her eternal sobriety when Miriam couldn’t even watch a sunrise. She couldn’t feel a sunburn or a winter chill anymore, but she could stand in the light and the snow and imagine what it was like. She could remember, at least for now. “What, you mean drinking away the undead existential crisis isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?” She asked wryly. “That’s a fair point, you know,” she said. “More than. Sorry. Although, apparently there’s a giant squid in the lake that may or may not eat people, so maybe you’re not missing out on too much.” She really didn’t need to know anymore about Miriam’s dalliances, however charming calling them that sounded in her dated cadence. She scampered down the stairs after Miriam, ready to leave all of that behind and see the rest of her place.

“There’s nothing like a drunken bender every few weeks to destroy your liquor cabinet,” Miriam joked. Though, she wasn’t actually joking, seeing as how she could smell last week’s rage in the form of spilled wine all over the cellar. She sucked in her cheeks frowning. “I forgot about the mess down here. Those undead existential crises tend to end in a bit of broken glass.” She gave a short laugh, but she could clearly smell blood, human blood, underneath all the wine. And if she could, she figured Morgan could as well. “It’s nothing to apologize for, darling. And I have heard about the squid. See, I can’t recall anything like that happening back when I was alive.” Miriam really needed to learn to clean up after herself better. And, perhaps a wine cellar wasn’t the best place to torture a little witch bitch into giving her information on a coven she apparently didn’t know anything about. There’d been some spilled wine, spilled blood, and a new rosebush in the garden. But no cleaning of the wine cellar. It was a shame, too. In her rage she’d managed to break a few bottles of very pricey vintage. It was a waste on all fronts. She walked over to the stairwell leading to the house, a sigh on her lips as she stepped over the mess. Miriam gave Morgan a tight smile. “I’m sometimes unaware of my own strength and anger, these days.”

Maybe if she hadn’t died and made a passtime of stuffing her face with viscera, Morgan wouldn’t have been able to notice the difference between wine and bloodstains on sight. She might not have been able to sense some bits of dead skin, dead something, ground into the floor. But she was salivating in a way that made her clench up with undease. Why was she feeling the hunger pull? Why was there blood mixed with broken glass. Morgan stopped short, surveying the mess. She looked up at Miriam’s thin smile, too sharp to reach her eyes. She didn’t need to ask, she shouldn’t. The whole reason she had stayed away from Miriam for so long was because she knew what she was capable of. She didn’t just carry darkness in her, she had hatred. The kind of hatred that lead to a mess like this. Blood spread in so many directions couldn’t be from anything swift or easy. She backed away slowly. “Y-yeah, um...I can see that. That’s…” The smart thing to do would be to come up with some non threatening question to indicate she didn’t care or at least wasn’t going to push. But as she crept back up the way she came, eyes fixated on the stains she couldn’t un-see as blood she asked, “Who was that? How many...how many people do you bring down here?”

Miriam frowned. A part of her recognized that she should apologize, try to start this over and appeal to the tentative friendship that had been forming between the two of them since before Morgan even died. Miriam wouldn’t lie, she’d grown a bit fond of the witch even while she wanted to kill her, just as she’d always been fond of Theo’s sisters and friends. But Miriam had been raised to not apologize, even before she’d been turned, so she didn’t, couldn’t. Whatever. “It’s mostly just wine, you know,” she said as a way of explanation. But that wasn’t good enough, probably. Readjusted. She smiled, an attempt to soothe. Sometimes, Miriam forgot that she was more bite than bark. “Morgan, I would never harm you, you know. Not anymore. I have no reason to even try.” She adjusted her posture, trying to appear non threatening, but she could no more do that than get Morgan to forget their first encounter. So, she sighed and took a seat near the steps that led to her house. They were on opposite sides of the wine cellar, at an impasse. “I don’t ask for names,” she said. “And she didn’t have any information. Just a drifter, lucky bitch.” Really, Miriam couldn’t be to blame for killing the woman. She’d practically rubbed it in Miriam’s face that she could leave and perform magic while Miriam was stuck in this town as a living corpse. She closed her eyes and took a soothing breath that she didn’t need. “I don’t know. Not many. Wine cellars make terrible places to conduct business, you know. Too many breakable things that I don’t want broken.” She ran her finger through a dark, sticky substance near her heel.

“Miriam--” Morgan began, her voice soft and heavy with disappointment. What had she expected? Where was the surprise in any of this? She stopped, tugging on the roots of her hair as she tried to take in the cold, matter-of-fact way Miriam talked about her killings. It reminded her of Deirdre when she was at her worst, when she was the thing her mother wanted her to be. How could Miriam be this way in so short a time, after one heartbreak? Had she loved him that much, that nothing could exist for her besides that hurt? She let out a long sigh. “I know you wouldn’t, Miriam. I know that,” she said. “But I wish you would let this go. Or at least that I could understand how--why this is so important to you. If it’s so fulfilling, why do you have to turn yourself off like that.” She nodded in her direction, taking in all the signs, the hard lines, the heaviness of the apathy. It was somehow more horrible to look at than the blood. “I just...if it was really that worth it, I don’t think you would have to be like this about it. I think if you understood you can have something besides hating people who never hurt you…” What? She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t see another version of Miriam hiding under the darkness, exactly. She knew she was lonely, driven, proud. Sometimes, under the weight of her death and her un-life, she could be funny. But Morgan didn’t know what else. She just wanted to believe it existed. Another breath. It was stupid, she didn’t need to breathe at all, but if she could float some air into her, maybe she could understand why she felt this upset over something she should have known all along.

There was a part of Miriam that wanted desperately for someone, anyone, to understand. She couldn’t let it go. It wasn’t from a lack of trying. After she’d killed Theo, when the high from it all had faded away, she’d cried until she couldn’t. Her mother had been the one to find her, a bloody mess, a shadow of a human being, sobbing over what was left of the husband she’d killed. Her mother, prim and proper, who had left the rearing of her daughter to her stern and more business-oriented husband when Miriam had been more interested in leathers than satins, didn’t know how to react to seeing her child the murderer. The monster. She never did. And yet she’d tried to comfort. And Miriam had let her, had thought this was a one and done situation. But there was no such thing. She couldn’t explain the hunger or rage that was only quieted by others’ screams. Morgan would certainly never understand it. Instead, Miriam kept her face impassive as she licked the blood and wine off her fingers, her eyes flashing red at the taste. She smiled, both sharp and sanguine. “Dearest, I’m only being myself.” She leaned back against the steps. “At least, what’s left of me.” Her hate must be fed to be tempered. She’d learned that the hard way. Miriam would stop if she only knew how.

Morgan lingered in the stairwell, wondering again what in all the earth she had been thinking of in coming here. Why she didn’t have her fill of Miriam from the last time. Had she really set aside the hatred in her eyes over a shared dread of eternity? Was the numbness, the pain between them really enough to scrub away the things she’d done? When she’d been alive, Miriam had sent her to the flipping hospital, of all things. She looked at the woman, resigned and stubborn on the ground. She was so lost she couldn’t even argue with Morgan, couldn’t even fight her.

Morgan crossed the room, stepping over the mess out of respect for the dead. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know sorry’s are stupid, but since I actually know how it is to wake up and feel chunks of yourself missing, I feel like I’m allowed. And--I just don’t think those empty spaces have to stay that way. Not for you, or for anyone else. There has to be something different, something better for you.” She bent down, closer than she had ever been to Miriam yet. She ghosted her fingers over Miriam’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I wish you would look for it some more,” she said. Then she turned back the way she’d come and left.

Not meaning to, Miriam flinched back from the tenderness of Morgan’s touch. She hadn’t experienced anything like that in so long. Not even the people she’d slept with recently had been tender. But she didn’t cry, for what it was worth. Didn’t allow tears to even begin to well in the corners of her eyes. But she felt worn around the edges and seen. It was fucking with her head a bit. Did Morgan seriously think she could be redeemed? After all that she’d done? There was no redemption for her, only vengeance and the final death that it would bring. This was what she knew, what she felt in the pit of her cold heart. But she couldn’t find the words to say it. Instead, she said, “Shut the door on the way out, sweetness.” It wasn’t loud, and it lacked her usual bravado. She stood up slowly, a phantom feeling in her bones, like her true age’s weariness was catching up to her, and she went in the opposite direction. She was going to have to clean up herself, it seemed. Didn’t matter. She had a bit more time on her hands than she planned for the evening, anyway.

#wickedswriting #poison and wine #wr miriam #wr chatzy #wr miriam chatzy

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Gold Digger - Chapter 2 | Gwilym Lee x OFC

A/N: Hi, hello, I vomited words again. Also I won't be around this weekend so this week's chapter is out sooner than expected. We'll be back on schedule next week.

Warnings: Mild swearing. Injured animal.

Word Count: ~1.3K

The Playlist (updates regularly)

Prologue, Chapter 1

"Just go out with him already!" Shelly groaned. "Just for a shag, even!" 

"No, Shelly!" 

"Why?!" 

"Because it's never just a shag with me." Lizzie crossed her arms. "That's why." 

"Gosh, you're so full of it." Shelly scoffed. "Look, you're drooling like an imbecile day and night and you're always on your phone." 

"I do not drool -"

"It's been a month, Liz!" Shelly's statement was met with silence. She knew she's winning this argument. "A month. You clearly fancy this lad." 

"I do." 

"Then just get on with it, will ya?" 

"Nope." 

"My God you are so stubborn!" Shelly's hands flailed about. "Fine. Don't. Stay pent up, frustrated and so googly-eyed over this one." 

"I'm not googly-eyed!" 

"But you are." Shelly shrugged. "I'm gonna go have an actual sex life, now. Toodles!" 

Lizzie grabbed the bottle of Rose and huffed. She looked at her glass and looked at the bottle and decided to throw caution to the wind. Holding the bottle up with two hands, she took a big, juicy gulp from it. 

"Use a bloody glass, you savage!" Shelly called over her shoulder as she headed for the door. 

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks, Shells!"

### "Oh my God!" Lizzie shrieked and jumped back, covering her mouth with her hands. "Oh my God! Oh my God!!!" 

No one was around to hear her screams and cries for help. That's what you get for coming to school on the weekend, and early in the morning, at that. 

A bat rolled out of the curtains in her classroom while she wandered around after picking up some leftover assignments she needed to grade and forgot to bring home. Her neat pile of papers flew in the air like confetti, long forgotten. With shaking hands, she stepped back and watched the poor creature crawl around. A bone poked out of his right wing, leaving a trail of blood behind him. It wasn't even the size of the palm of her hand. It was tiny. 

"Oh, you poor thing!" Lizzie could feel tears prick at her eyes. If there's one thing she hated - it was seeing animals suffer. 

She hurried to the classroom cupboards and pulled out an old shoebox and some plastic bags to use as gloves. Gently, she picked the little bat off the floor and put him in the shoebox, closing the lid. 

"Ah, bullocks!" Lizzie hissed. "It needs air! Why am I such a tit?" 

After poking holes through the lid, she wiped the blood off with a damp washcloth and tossed the plastic bags in the bin. Sitting at her desk, she pouted at the little box. 

"What do we do now, mate?" She asked the box and heard a soft shuffle inside. "I can't take you home." 

She thought about calling Shelly, but knew she'd either be mocked for caring for a bloody bat or simply ignored because she was off with her latest conquest. She looked at her bag and sighed. 

'Help. I have an injured bat and I don't know what to do.'

The reply was almost instant. 

'Ehm, what on bloody earth are you on about?' 

'I saved an injured bat and now it's in a shoebox.' 

'Right...' 

'I don't know what to do with it.'

'What makes you think I would?' Lizzie snarled at the screen and powered it off, just to see it power right back on - alerting her a new message was waiting for her. 'I'm sorry, that came off a bit harsh.' 

'It's whatever. I'll figure it out.' She replied.

'Are you home? Where did you find a bat?'

'Classroom.'

'It's the weekend.' Gwilym stated the obvious.

'I'm aware.'

'Did you get your days mixed up...?' 

'No, you twat! I had some papers I forgot to bring home that I need to grade.' ### Gwilym wasn't sure at first. He thought he saw Lizzie walking along the path at the park, but the girl was much too far away for him to ascertain. He kept up his run, thinking nothing of it. Then, he caught a second glimpse of her. 

Still hesitant, he decided to keep on track but keep a close eye on the look-a-like. By the third lap, he was positive - it was her. He contemplated what to do next for 0.48 seconds and then started in a bee-line towards the girl sitting on the bench, her head bowed down to read the book in her lap. 

"Lizzie!" Gwilym shouted from afar but was ignored. He tried again. "Hey, Liz!" The girl flipped a page and looked up at the sky for a brief moment before diving back in to her riveting book. 

"Elizabeth!" Gwilym tried addressing her more formally. "Hey, Lizzie!" He was almost there. Just a few more quick strides and - "Liz!" 

Lizzie gasped and clutched at her chest with one hand, while pulling at the earbuds cord with the other. Her heart raced. She was so caught up with her book, she didn't even see the roaring tree approach her. 

"Christ!" Was all she could manage. 

"Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Gwilym blurted out and paused, feeling a deja-vu. "I have to stop apologizing whenever I see you, don't I?" 

"You have to stop trying to kill me, first!" she said with a hint of an Irish accent, "could'a given me a heart attack at 30 years old!"

"What are you reading there?" Gwilym peeked over the tip of his nose at her lap, changing the subject. "Bit chilly to be out and about this morning, isn't it?" 

"I happen to enjoy chilly." Lizzie huffed and lifted her book up to show Gwil the cover. The Cathedral By The Sea. "Also, I could say the same about your plums." 

"My what?" Gwilym cocked his head, unsure if he heard her correctly. 

"Your plums. Your testicles, Gwilym." Lizzie kept an eerily straight face while she fought internally not to double over laughing. "It's a bit chilly for them to be out and about this morning, too, wouldn't you say?" 

Gwilym looked down and felt a red blush burn up his neck, all the way to his ears. While he ran, his shorts rode up even higher than they usually sat on his thighs. He was practically flashing his crown jewels to the entire park. 

"You're the only one looking, actually." He tried to save face

"They're right in my face, sir." Lizzie finally looked up at him. doe-eyed. "How can I not?" ### "M'lo?" 

"Hello, sleeping beauty." Gwilym smiled to himself while he tugged at the soft, short beard on his chin. "Sleeping in, are we?" 

"It's Sunday." Lizzie murmured groggily. "Of course we're sleeping in." 

"Was kind of hoping I'd run into you on my morning jog," Gwil tucked the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he stirred his tea, "no pun intended." 

"We're not all morning people, Gwilym." Lizzie squeaked as she sat up in her bed. "What time is it, anyways?" 

"Quarter past eleven, doll." Gwilym tapped the spoon on the lip of his mug twice and chucked it in the sink. "Had a long night?"  

"Yeah, that party I told you about -" 

"And rudely chose not to invite me to..." 

"-Ha, ha. Anyways, the party got a bit hectic." Lizzie winced and she yawned. "My head feels like an elephant decided to stomp it." 

"Poor you." ### "My, my." Shelly whistled. "You were right about the prince bit!"

Lizzie stared at her laptop and blinked. 

"So you've been talking to this fine specimen for, what, two months now?" Shelly asked. "And still refused to go out with him?" 

"I mean..." 

"You're an idiot." Shelly shrugged and leaned over Lizzie's shoulder. "Look at him!" 

"Well, I didn't think he was seriously acting and -"

"Two months! Two! Months!" Shelly held two fingers up in the air in a 'peace' sign, "and you never bothered to Google him before?!" 

Lizzie shook her head and sighed. 

"An idiot." 

"Thanks, Shells." Lizzie rolled her eyes, her picking at her lips with her fingers. "So, now what do I do?" 

"First of all, I can think of a whole marathon we can have over the weekend." Shelly stood up straight and stretched her arms high over her head. "Second of all, you call him right now and you ask for his bloody hand in marriage before he comes to his senses about you and -"

"Thanks, Shells!"

#############

TAGLIST:  @ramibaby @filmslutt @lose-you-to-find-me @sonic-volcano @nosferatyou @rogertaylorin1976

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x ofc

[jaydcstories]

Read this and other stories on my blog: JOHN DEE COOPER'S ALL-MALE SLAVERY STORIES

PAULO by John Dee Cooper © 2020

Chapter 4

Mamma mia! I’d led such a sheltered life!

I’d been fed so much propaganda at the orphanage, and seen so little of the outside world, that I had no idea how things really were under the Reich Marshalls’ rule. Of course we’d heard about forced labour — it was one of the building blocks of the new Reich and one of the reasons why I was so scared about being sent to a labour camp — but out-and-out slavery was something that belonged to comic books and adventure stories. It never crossed my mind that for almost two generations now it had become an ordinary fact of life across most of Europe and America.

So it’s no wonder I puzzled over the sight of those naked men in chains and made no immediate connection between them and us kids in our soiled clothes and  manacles. If anything I was intrigued and a little aroused. They were all such superb specimens of male physique, with smooth bodies and big muscles, and I couldn’t help admiring the machine-like precision as they jogged past in perfect unison.

I quickly forgot about them though, once we were inside the warehouse, which  was damp and cold and smelt of rotting wood.

We were still roped together as we were led along a dingy corridor with grubby walls and floorboards that creaked when we stepped on them.  It was like walking into a nightmare.

At the far end of the corridor, two men were waiting for us by an open door.

“Some fine looking merchandise coming your way, Boronda,” said one of them, a tall lazy fellow chewing on a matchstick and eyeing us up as we shuffled along.

“Well I hope so,” said his friend, a fat bald-headed man with short arms and big sweaty hands.“Especially after the trouble I had with the last shipment.”

The tall fellow laughed and opened the door for us. We crept through nervously while he grinned at us and then said goodbye to his friend and left.

The fat man led us into another dusty corridor where what looked like a guard in uniform was sitting with his feet up on a window ledge, reading a newspaper.

“Working late, Seňor Boronda?” he said, folding his newspaper.

“Afraid so. I need to get these shipped out tonight,”— He was pointing at us! — “I’ll try not to detain you.”

The man in uniform, who had stony features and muscles that were clearly made of iron, was dressed in what I would soon come to recognise as the standard outfit of a Slave Keeper — black combat trousers and boots, a tight black tee-shirt and a black leather holster loaded with a taser gun, an electric prod, a set of handcuffs and a thick leather strap for beating slaves with. It is an image engraved on my mind for all eternity and fills me with a kind of terror even now when I think of it. Some Keepers wear black jackets over their tee-shirts, and some wear black berets, but they are all as tough as stone, with a special kind of swagger and an overwhelming air of menace that intimidates and in a weird kind of way excites — something to do, I suppose, with the mystical connection that exists between slaves and their Keepers.

In addition, this Keeper had a bull whip tucked into his belt.

Señor Boronda was hunting through a huge bunch of keys with his stubby fingers while the Slave Keeper glared at us as though he didn’t trust us one little bit and was itching to use the bull whip on us if he got half the chance.

At last Boronda found his key, unlocked a heavy metal door and led us into his own private processing chamber.

It was small and clammy. There weren’t any windows, the walls, ceiling and floor were covered in grubby white tiles and the overhead lighting buzzed and flickered. It looked and smelt like a public toilet. There was even a narrow raised area running along one side where the urinals would have gone. On the opposite wall was a large mirror and at the far end was what looked like a shower unit without any screens or curtains.

Señor Boronda told us to stand on the narrow raised area. It was only a couple of inches high but our feet were still roped together and our hands manacled behind our backs so it wasn’t that easy. We kept getting tied up in knots. “Miguel!” shouted the Señor. “Untie their legs.”

A door in the opposite wall swung open and a boy scampered out. He bowed to his Master and whispered “Sí, Amo.” He was about eighteen, slender but tough looking. All he had on was a coarse woven tunic tied at the waist with rope. His arms, legs and feet were bare.

I’d never seen anyone dressed like this before. He looked like he’d stepped out of a history book. There was something medieval, almost religious, about the way he stooped down and unravelled the rope from our legs.

“Now remove their gags.”

Again the bow of the head and the “Sí, Amo.”

Removing the gags was always going to be a difficult moment because none of us had been able to speak a word since we’d been captured. The floodgates were about to be opened.

He began with the boy at the end nearest the door, the tough one with the torn tee-shirt. As soon as the gag was off he spat and swore and launched into a tirade of abuse aimed directly at  the Señor — who immediately went over and slapped him in the face. The boy snarled, and bit his lip but quietened down.

Next along, standing beside me, was the smart kid with the expensive clothes. When his gag came off, he launched into a speech he must have been rehearsing over and over in his head for hours.

“You’ve made a big mistake... my father is in the Policía... you have no right to keep me here... you’ll regret it if you don’t let me go...”

He got a slap as well. It shut him up for a second or two then, the idiot, he started up again.

“Put his gag back on,” growled Señor Boronda who had grabbed hold of a cane now and was swishing it about menacingly.  

“Now listen to me, muchachos. You don’t speak. Not unless I tell you to. You have nothing of the remotest interest to say to me or to anyone. You have no fathers, you have no mothers. You have nothing. You belong to me now. I own you. I’ve paid good money for you and I’ve already got a customer lined up who’ll take you off my hands. But for now you’re my property so you don’t move or do anything unless I say so.”

The bit about no mothers and fathers didn’t bother me too much. I was an orphan. What’s more I was used to being bossed around and bullied. But the rest of what he was saying was hard to get my head around.

“You don’t exist anymore in the outside world. You don’t have names. You don’t have anything. You’re slaves. A commodity to be bought and sold. There’s nothing you can do to change it. It’s all been taken care of. So the sooner you buckle down and obey your new owners the easier it will be for all of us.”

“Slave” — I kept rolling the word around in my head trying to make it mean “me”. Somehow I wasn’t the same boy I was yesterday? What had changed? Was it something I’d done wrong? And what did he mean I didn’t exist anymore? I just didn’t get it.

The Señor could see he wasn’t getting through to our thick skulls so, lowering his voice, he tried a different tack.

“Out of all the boys in the world , you have been chosen to be servants of the Reich. It’s a great honour. Your young bodies will bring happiness and prosperity to the free men who will have the good fortune, and the money, to own you. Embrace your new life and you will survive. Resist and you will be punished. Look at Miguel, he’s a slave like you and he looks happy enough, doesn’t he? Are you happy, esclavo?”

“Sí, mi Amo.”

“There you are, you see. Do as you’re told and learn to obey orders, you’ll get along fine. Otherwise,” he gestured towards the Slave Keeper who was standing in the doorway stroking the handle of his whip and glaring at us, “you’ll have him to deal with.”

To drive this point home, the Slave Keeper cracked his whip so loud it echoed round the whole warehouse and scared the living daylight out of us.

“This boy,” the Señor said, pointing a finger at the smart kid, “stays bound and gagged. But the others can be released now.”

No-one dared make a sound as Miguel pulled the tape off our mouths and unlocked the manacles from our wrists. Oh, but what a glorious release that was. How long had it been? Twenty-four hours?  More.  The smart kid must have been envious, watching us stretch our limbs and rub our sore wrists.

The relief was fleeting. Next thing, we were told to take our clothes off.  The smart kid couldn’t of course because his hands were still manacled behind his back, so it was his turn to smirk as he watched us stripping down to our socks and underwear — only to be told we had to get rid of those as well and stand there stark naked.

We laid our things in a neat pile in front of us and then stood to attention with our hands by our sides (our knuckles got rapped if we tried to cover our private parts) while Señor Boronda checked us for rings, pendants, crucifixes and any other items of body jewellery all of which he slipped into his pocket. Miguel followed him, picking up our discarded clothes and stuffing them in a plastic bag. We never saw them again.

By now the smart kid was worried. It was all very well watching us being stripped of everything we possessed but he must have been feeling a little left out. Well, don’t worry about that. The Señor handed Miguel a pair of scissors about the size of garden shears, and had him snip away at the boy’s designer clothes, reducing them to shreds in a matter of seconds and ripping them away until the poor boy was left as naked as the rest of us. His whole body was shaking with anger and he was making all kinds of noises from behind his gag. He really wasn’t taking any of this well!

The rest of us I suppose were taking it a step at a time. I didn’t mind all that much being naked. There had never been much privacy at the orphanage and I just thought maybe we were going to be given a shower and a tunic to wear like Miguel. And the fact that Miguel looked quite healthy and reasonably content with his lot, made me think that being a servant of the Reich was probably not all that bad and certainly better than being on the run or dying of hunger in the forest.

Which reminded me that I hadn’t eaten for so long I couldn’t remember when. So my spirits lifted a little more when Señor Boronda mentioned food.

“One ladle of slave fodder each, Miguel.”

The boy obediently produced a bucket full of what looked like congealed porridge. And that’s what it tasted like too. He scooped out great wodges of it with a wooden ladle which he shoved into our mouths. I nearly choked on it. I’m sure it was scientifically nutritious, but it had the consistency of wet cardboard and was very hard to swallow. Once I’d managed to get it down, though, I did feel a mite better for it.

The smart boy, of course, got nothing. (I should perhaps stop calling him that. In fact I learnt later that his name was Adolpho. His father, who was indeed quite high up in the policía, had been accused of some misdemeanour, as a result of which his son had been snatched from school and turned over to the slavers. The rough boy on the end was Rico, and, as I suspected, he had been living on the streets and had been snatched, like me. The youngster, who even now was edging closer to me, was Tomas, and the good looking, curly haired boy on the end was Luis. You will hear more of them and their stories later.)

All I needed now was something to wash the “fodder” down. I didn’t dare speak out, but the rough boy, Rico, mumbled something about “water”. I thought the Señor was going to punch him in the face again. Instead he said that we would be able to drink as much water as we liked when we were under the shower.

“Now let’s get started,” he said rubbing his hands and looking intently at each of us in turn as he settled into a small folding chair that Miguel had set down for him.

“We’ll begin with you.”

He beckoned to the curly haired boy, Luis.

“Tú, muchacho,” he said tapping his thigh as though he were summoning a pet dog, “Ven aquí.”

Luis took a deep breath, stepped off the platform and walked cautiously towards the waiting Señor — and the “process” began.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Girl's Best Friend: Part 1/3

I'm coming at you with a Doofus Rick/reader fic that nobody asked for that's all about crystals! If you've been following me for a while you might know I collect crystals, and so that's where the inspiration for this came from. The crystals in readers collection are actually based on some of my own (some I believe I've actually posted pics of before), so yeah! This is SFW, fluffy and cute, so I hope you enjoy :)

-

“This- this is a piece of Citrine. Di-did you know that? I know that some people like to decorate their houses with crystals and minerals, but I love to study them and I'm quite proud of my ability to identify them.” Rick said, grabbing my attention away from what I was doing; plumping up the sofa cushions. This was the first time he'd visited my home since we'd started our relationship together; although we'd been together for some months we most often spent time at his home since it was much more spacious. His initial reaction had been to quietly and curiously wander around the room (after asking if it was okay of course, he was ever so polite) and look at the various nicknacks I owned. He'd said to me you can learn a lot about a person from how they decorate their living space. Mine was rather cluttered, though everything had its place, I had a lot of stuff. I was a compulsive buyer, when I liked something I had to have it. Yes, it made it difficult to find a spot on my already packed shelves, but I loved everything, and I kept it all neat and mostly dust free.

“Yes. Well, actually that piece is heat treated Amethyst made to look like Citrine.” I replied, coming over to have a look at the cluster of glittering, golden rock. I picked it up from it's spot on the shelf and turned away to blow the fine layer of dust that had gathered on it; it was almost impossible to keep up with the cleaning and crystals like this were absolute dust magnets. I held it out to him so he could have a better look.

“Oh! Wow, y-you know your stuff.” He said, taking it from me and tilting it to and fro in the light, watching the many tiny terminations of the stone sparkle. “This is very pretty, isn't it?” He commented.

“It's beautiful. Crystals are my favourite things to collect, I have a few of them in here.” I told him, scanning my eyes over the shelving cabinet we were standing before. “Here's a piece of Selenite.” I said, plucking a specimen off the shelf below and holding it up. This was a tower, larger at the bottom and getting thinner at the top, coming in in stages so it had a staggered step effect. The shape highlighted the interesting effect light had on the stone; looking almost translucent at some angles, but bright glowing white in others.

“You collect rocks and minerals like this? Oh… that- that's incredible. I do too!” He said, looking up at me with wide eyes, so surprised like he'd stumbled across something amazing.

“You do? What a coincidence! I always love finding things in common with you.” I grinned, watching as Rick carefully placed the Citrine cluster back on the shelf. He turned his attention to the Selenite tower.

“Y-you know, the structure of Selenite is very interesting. It's also v-very fragile.” He commented, watching how I tilted the stone.

“It's made up of like… little tubes I suppose you could say. Linear layers, right? They can chip off very easily. Even just by scratching it.” I said, and Rick's face lit up.

“You really do know your stuff! Did you know they used certain types of Selenite as window panes in the past? In Rome, there is a church that still has them intact. The Basilica of Saint Sabina.” He explained, and I raised my brows.

“I didn't know that.” I mused. “That would be very interesting to see, have you been there before?” I asked.

“Unfortunately not. I have only read about it in books. P-perhaps one day we could go together.” He said hopefully, and I smiled.

“I'd like that.” I nodded, and we looked at each other for a while with silly little smiles on our faces. Moments like this occurred often between us, whether it was the giddiness of fresh romance or just the way Zeta-7 made me feel as a whole, I could spend hours simply looking at him. “Anyway.” I said, clearing my throat and pulling myself out from under his spell.

“Anyway.” He chuckled, rocking on his heels and flushing.

“I also have this piece of Labradorite here, this is one of my favourite stones. It's incredible how it catches the light, how in some angles it looks like a plain old black rock but then the light hits it and…” I trailed off, admiring the weighty sphere in my hand as a flash of blue appeared, outlined with green and gold. It was breathtaking. “Stunning!” I sighed.

“I don't have any of that particular stone in my collection, but I c-can most certainly see why you are drawn to it. I-i-it certainly is a treasure.” He said, and I handed it to him so he could study it for himself.

“Do you know why it does that? I mean, shines like that?” I asked him, and he squinted at the sphere, tilting it and watching how it shone.

“Hmm, the ire-ir-iridescent quality? I believe that the mineral it is made up of has these l-little fractures within each layer, and so when the light shines through these layers and hits a particular surface, it reflects back the light and disperses it, giving off all these pretty c-colours you see. Though… I'm by n-no means an expert on these kinds of things.” Rick explained, before handing back the crystal.

“Huh, so it disperses the light into different colours? Kind of like a prism?” I asked.

“Hmm, similarly. You were right in s-saying that it disperses the light, but a prism works differently. They refract the light as it shines through, changing the direction and wavelength, wh-which is why you see a rainbow. This stone reflects light back, rather than have it shine through.” He said, and I nodded.

“I see. Well regardless of how it works, it's very impressive. Who wants diamonds when you can have something like this?” I asked rhetorically with a smile.

“Diamonds cer-certainly have their own wonderful properties, but I agree; th-this stone looks much more impressive.”

“I've always thought to myself, if I ever get engaged I'd like a ring with a Moonstone or an Opal, rather than a diamond.” I said without thinking, then noticed the sudden stillness in the room. I mentally kicked myself, that was not meant to sound like a hint at all, especially not so soon into Rick and I's relationship, and so I scrambled to change the subject. “You know, Labradorite is said to expand our consciousness and aid in connecting to magical abilities like clairvoyance and telepathy.”

“Oh? D-do you believe that crystals have m-magical powers?” He asked me curiously, and I looked up at him from the stone.

“I'm not sure.” I admitted. “Whether they do or not, it's definitely interesting to learn about. It's also nice to think that way and keep it in mind, for example I have a piece of Green Aventurine that I carry around whenever I feel like I need some luck.”

“Why, is that meant to be a lucky stone?” He asked.

“Yes. And it really has been a lucky stone for me, in fact, I did not even pay for it. When I received it, I had gone to a crystal store to pick up a bunch of different tumbled stones. I had quite a selection, and when the person in the shop was serving me he must've somehow accidentally included it in my bag. So that was pretty lucky.” I smiled. “I didn't realise until I got home, and since then I've thought of it as my lucky charm. I was carrying it in my pocket when I went for my job interview, and I got the job. So there's that too.”

“You probably got the j-job because you're great, I-I-I wouldn't give all the credit to a stone, if I were you.” He chuckled.

“So you're skeptical of this stuff?” I asked.

“I suppose so. B-but like you said, it's certainly interesting. What does this piece do?” He asked picking up a piece of Fluorite, a mostly rough piece with one polished surface. It was mainly green but had a little purple in it too.

“That one is supposed to clear your head and allow you to let go of emotions that no longer serve you. It's sort of a detox crystal, if you will.” I explained, and he hummed thoughtfully before placing it back on the shelf.

“What's your absolute favourite piece?” He asked me, and my face lit up. I could talk for hours about gemstones, particularly the ones in my collection. I spun around the room, glancing over my shelves.

“Ohh, do I have to just pick one?” I asked, and Rick chuckled openly, seemingly delighted by my reaction.

“Okay, I-I-I'll settle for your t-top three.” He compromised and I thanked him graciously.

“Ah! Okay. In no particular order, then; this piece of Amethyst has to be up there.” I told him, reaching for the huge, heavy lump of purple rock that was just as wide and a little bit longer than my hand. It was a cluster with a mixture of small and large points jutting out from it's base. It sat beautifully on my shelf in a lovely triangle sort of shape. “It was one of the first large specimens I ever bought. I actually bought this from a market stall in town; I remember saying to the lady who ran it when I decided against buying it right away, that if it sold to someone else then I knew it wasn't meant to be. But then I went back the next week and it was still there, so...” I trailed off and chuckled.

“So it was meant to be.” Rick finished, shaking his head in amusement.

“Yes!” I laughed, handing him the stone.

“Oh, it's qu-quite heavy.” He commented as he turned the stone around, looking at the base of it, running his hand over the plain rock on the underside. I found it funny how out of the whole piece, that was the part he was most drawn to. “It is definitely a lovely piece, I-I-I'm glad that you were able to purchase it, since you like it so much.” He added, handing it back to me so I could put it back on the shelf.

“Hmm, now this one is even heavier. I won't take it off the shelf because bits of the rock flake off and make a mess if it's handled too much, but this is a Quartz Stalactite geode.” I told him, pointing up at the large rock that from most angles looked like an ordinary grey boulder, apart from the viewing angle where part of it had been chipped away, creating an opening into the rock where you could see inside to all of the little crystalline growths. They cropped out from the sides like fingers, with tiny crystal terminations covering the sides. It was extremely glittery and magical, and if fairies were real, this was where they'd live.

“Oh, wow! Th-that really is beautiful, and huge!” He gasped, moving his head from side to side to see inside from different angles. “I c-can see why you put these out on display, they're amazing!”

“Oh? What do you do with your collection, then?” I asked him curiously, and he gave me a sheepish look, like he thought I wasn't going to like his answer.

“I kee-keep them down in my basement, all in boxes and drawers to keep the dust and light away from them.” He admitted. Part of me wanted to gasp in horror, but the other part of me respected him even more for it. Sunlight could have a terrible effect on certain gemstones, fading their beautiful colours. The first crystal I ever got when I was a child was a piece of Amethyst, and in comparison to my newer specimens it was extremely dull and lackluster after years of being on display. I still loved it all the same, however.

“Well, I applaud your resistance. I might as well be a magpie, when I see shiny things I have to have them on display.” I chuckled. “I would love to see your collection one day, if you'd let me.”

“Oh, of course! I'd be happy to show you.” He said, and I could hear the sheer excitement in his voice at the prospect. It was infectious.

“Great! I'm sure yours are even brighter and more beautiful than mine. It seems like you take very good care of them.”

“Ah, b-but yours have sentimental value. Mine are just- I collected them simply to study their structure and composition. My interest in them was purely scientific, my attraction to their beauty was accidental.” He explained with a smile. “You have one more to pick.” He reminded me, and I jumped into action selecting the final of my top three. I scanned my shelves, my eyes landing on a particular piece after some deliberation.

“Oh, it must be this.” I whispered, reaching for the hand-sized chunk of quartz in question.

“Clear Quartz?” Rick asked, surprised. Out of all of my gemstones, Clear Quartz was certainly one of the less awe-inspiring, however, I was extremely drawn to it.

“Yes, this is one of my favourite stones too… even though it may look like simple, clear rock, there's always these little inclusions in it, little patterns. I could stare for hours, just looking at the shapes inside and the way it catches the light. And this piece in particular is very special, you see how it has two main points?” I asked.

“Oh, yes.” Rick nodded, inspecting it once I handed it to him. The specimen was a large point, with a secondary point jutting out of the side of it, and it was a milky white colour.

“Well, that makes it Twin Quartz. Though, it's also known as Soulmate Quartz, which I personally think is much more beautiful. This type of Quartz is supposed to help with relationships, and finding your soulmate.” I told him, looking at the way his expression turned thoughtful at that.

“Do you think it works?” He asked me after a moment.

“Well, I bought it not long before I met you, so… I hope so.” I said quietly, noticing a cute pink blush rise in his cheeks.

“I h-hope so too.” He stammered, taking a peek at my eyes before quickly looking back down at the crystal. My heart filled with warmth at his nervousness, and I couldn't help but step closer to him; placing my hand over the top of the crystal, entwining our hands around it, before kissing him. He let out a surprised little squeak, but quickly settled into the kiss, giving as good as he got as he leaned into me, tilting his head and sending my heart racing as the kiss deepened.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #doofus rick #rick j19zeta7 #fanfiction #Crystals

[buckybarnesappreciationsociety]

Holiday Magic Part Two

Summary: Christmas is a magical time of the year. Bucky and Y/N meet under odd circumsta

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1,672

Warning: slight angst; fluff

A/N: This is part two of my submission to @caplansteverogers Christmas Challenge. Thank you for being patient and understanding stuff happens out of our control!!! You’re a gem!  

New Year’s Eve 2017 (6:00 p.m.)

Time Square was abuzz with revellers. People crammed together, trying to keep warm in the arctic New York weather, anxiously awaiting the famed Crystal Ball to begin its descent. Most partygoers are decked out with 2018 hats, plastic glasses and horns. Even at this early hour, confetti litters the street and sidewalk. Musicians ready their voices to perform, in spite of the frigid temperature.

Tony suggested an impromptu gathering. Nothing glamorous. GQ casual. Everyone gathered around the common room and murmured. Steve spoke up.

“What???!!! Are you feeling alright, Stark?”

“Yes, Father Time. I wanted to celebrate with only the team. Why do you find that so unbelievable?”

Nat couldn’t resist. “It’s so not like you Tony. What gives really?”

Sipping on what is undoubtedly an expensive bottle of bourbon, Tony responded “Listen, the past year was shit for the Avengers. Guess a fresh start is in order. Food’s on the way; alcohol’s already here. Even Capsicle and Popsicle have their Asgardian whatever the hell it is.”

Wanda clapped her hands. “Well, I love the idea of a team only gathering. Small and intimate.” Turning her gaze towards Bucky, “Of course we can bring a date?”

Y/N had become an important part of the team. Bucky was a totally different person when she came around. Everyone loved her. Nat and Wanda were ecstatic for another female amongst the sea of testosterone.

“I don’t see why not? Will Y/N be joining us tonight, Popsicle?” The brooding super soldier nodded ‘yes’, leaving the room.

Sam prodded Steve. “What’s wrong with Barnes? Trouble in paradise?”

“Naw. I’ll go check on him.”

Sitting on the floor, head in this hands, Bucky wondered why Y/N agreed to spend New Year’s Eve with him.

“Bucky, tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. Do you have any plans?” Y/N hoped they’d spend time together, ringing in a new year.

Shrugging, “Nope. Why?”

“Why? Because I’d love to spend the evening with you. I mean if you want.”

“Okay. See ya at 8?” Kissing his cheek, Y/N rushed towards the elevator. “Call you when I get home. Byyyye”

Raising his hand to knock, Steve caught a glimpse of Bucky on the floor. His door was slightly ajar. “Buck, what’s going on?”

“She’s a great gal Stevie. Y/N’s a real peach. Wonder why she’d waste her time with me?”

Steve leaned against the wall, “Pal, you gotta give Y/N credit. The woman genuinely cares for you. Why don’cha give her chance?”

Bucky raised his head, “M’sorry man. It’s been years since I’ve felt this way ‘bout a dame.” His eyes welled up.

“Are you falling in love with her? It’s only been a few weeks.”

“I dunno if it’s love, but when we’re apart, my heart yearns for her. Am I wrong for feeling this way?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Steve sighed. “You’re not wrong. Take your time and get to know her.”

“Get to know her?” Bucky scoffed. “What do you think we’ve been doing? Hell, I’m familiar with her whole family!”

“Calm down Bucky. It’ll be fine. I’m gonna shower and get dressed for the party. What time is Y/N gonna be here?”

“Eight.” He exhaled sharply. “Guess I better get dressed. Thanks for talking me down.”

“Anytime pal. See ya later.” Steve made the trek to his room across the hall. It was obvious how Bucky felt about Y/N. He also knew she shared the same feelings.

After showering, Bucky dressed in a pair of stone washed black jeans, a pale blue button down shirt and ankle boots. His damp hair was pulled into a neat man bun.

Opening the nightstand drawer, Bucky rubbed his calloused fingers across a black velvet box. Y/N had a thing for dolphins. He purchased a silver dolphin necklace with miniature diamond eyes. “M’gonna give this to her tonight.”

Bucky put the necklace on the top shelf of his closet and locked the door. Sam managed to creep in his room snooping from time to time.

New Year’s Eve (8:00 p.m.)

Y/N took one last look at herself in the elevator mirror. Hair, makeup? Flawless! Her tattered blue jeans hugged her curvaceous frame. Paired with a cream, back out midriff sweater and black flats.

Bucky waited nervously in the hallway. The elevator was slower than usual. Finally, Y/N turned letting her gaze fall on the fine specimen in front of her.

“Hey Doll. You look, wow!”

Kissing his cheek, “Why thank you Sgt. Barnes. I must say you clean up well.”

Offering his arm, “Shall we?”

Tony kept the menu simple and self serve; Hot, Mild, Atmoic, Lemon Pepper, Tereyaki, and Bourbon glazed wings, Spicy Smoked Potato Salad, New Orleans style coleslaw, Garlic Parmesan wedge cut fries, Chicken Bacon Ranch casserole, Twice baked cheddar biscuits. The desserts were to die for: New York Style Cheesecake in chocolate, strawberry, tequila and caramel.

Confetti, 2018 hats, horns, plastic glasses, and feather boas were on the ready. After feasting on delectable delicacies, the time had come for copious amounts of alcohol.

Y/N, Nat, and Wanda enjoyed extra strong martinis, dancing around the room. Tony, Steve, Sam, Bucky, Thor, Bruce and Viz engaged in a rousing discussion on traditional New Year’s Eve traditions.

Once in a while, Bucky would stop talking to take in the angelic sight before him; Y/N with her head thrown back, giggling like a teenager.

Steve nudged his arm, “Y/N’s having a blast.”

“Yeah, Stevie. M’happy she’s here with us; with me.”

Bucky loved the sound of her laugh and blinding glow of her smile. Taking a break, Y/N grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She felt a pair of strong hands on her waist.

“Hey Sarge. I missed you.”

Kissing the top of her head, “Missed you too. Having fun?”

Swallowing the refreshing clear cold liquid, “Bucky, I’ve NEVER had this much fun on New Year’s Eve!!!!” Pushing up on her toes, Y/N grazed Bucky’s lips with a kiss. “Thank you.”

Wanda pulled her back onto the dance floor. “C’mon girl, let’s paaaarty.” Bucky froze, relishing in the unexpected kiss.

New Year’s Eve (11:58 p.m.)

In preparation for midnight, everyone donned some form of 2018 wear. Bruce poured champagne for an already inebriated bunch.

Bucky held Y/N close to his side. The time had come to start the countdown……

10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..1…..HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!  There were hugs, tears, and kisses!!! Steve offered the toast. “I don’t know what the year holds for us, but dammit we’ll be together as we were meant to be!”

Slurring a few words. Sam started a somber chorus “Auld Lang Syne”

♫♪♫Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And auld lang syne.

CHORUS

For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne.

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,

For auld lang syne.♫♪♫

Bucky chose this moment to slip away with Y/N. “Why are we leaving Bucky? Is something wrong?

“No Doll, jus’wanna spend some time alone with you.” Opening the door to his room, “Ladies first.”

Taking in the sight in front of her, Y/N was transformed into the 1930’s. Bed neatly made, two hanging bookshelves, bedside lamp and nightstand. Nothing fancy but it all screamed James Buchanan Barnes.

“It ain’t much but m’okay. Guess old habits die hard.” Bucky never fancied extravagance. Plain and simple, like him.

Chuckling, Y/N motioned towards the closet. “What’s in there?” Turning the handle, unable to open it. “Why do you have your closet door locked? Who’s in there?”

Bucky brows drew together. “What? No one! Sam’s on the nosey side. Don’t want him messing with my stuff is all.” Part of that was true, part wasn’t!

“Excuse me while I use ‘the little girl’s room’ Sarge.”

“Sure thing doll. I’ll be here waiting for ya.” Tipsy, Y/N swayed into the bathroom, locking the door.

Wasting no time, Bucky unlocked his closet door, taking down the dolphin necklace, hiding it under his pillow. Hearing the commode flush and water running, a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. “Shit, that was close.”

Kicking her shoes to the side, Y/N joined Bucky on his bed. ”Penny for your thoughts Sarge.”

Digging deep into his reservoir of courage, Bucky opened his mouth. “Y/N, since the night of Tony’s Christmas party, I can’t get’cha outta my head. I care for ya a lot.”

Laying her dainty hand atop the metal coolness, Y/N fluttered her eyelashes. “Sarge, I feel the same way. I can now laugh without wanting to cry. You’re good for me; we’re good for each other.”

“I, uh saw ya liked dolphins. Here’s something from me to you.”

Gasping, Y/N carefully opened the box. “Sarge! Oh my gosh, it’s breathtaking. Would you please put it on me?”

Standing in front of a floor length mirror, Y/N admired the necklace. Her smokey grey orbs glistened with tears. “Sarge, I love it and truth be told, in 5 days, you’ve managed to crawl into my soul and take root.”

Bucky lifted her chin. “2018 is our year. I’ll protect’ya with m’last breath. Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honor of being my best girl?”

Y/N scooted to his lap, getting a better angle on his soft lips. The kiss deepened as tongues fought for dominance. “Does that answer your question?” Bucky laid back on the bed with Y/N nestled against him.

2018 began where 2017 left off; filled with holiday magic for a promising new year so richly deserved, filled with endless possibilities.

TAGS: @caplansteverogers  @omalleysgirl22 @rebelslicious @pegasusdragontiger @suz-123 @debzybrazy @love2rhyme @shy2shot @papi-chulo-bucky @magellan-88

#caplanschristmaschallenge #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #thanks for reading #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers #tony stark #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #thor odinson

[plagueofsquid]

How about a short Jotahan fic with 'ice cream' being the theme? :3

Fun fact: I initially read this as a Jonathan fic about ice cream, which also sounds adorable.

There were very few weaknesses that could be ascribed to the great Rohan Kishibe. He was creative, talented, driven, and of course humble. The magazine that published Pink Dark Boy had called his debut chapter the most promising manga of the year, and he had only surpassed expectations. He was rich and famous at an age when his peers were only just now leaving college, and he was respected in manga circles as a superhumanly prolific author.

However, he did have one weakness. Rohan loved ice cream.

For anyone else, an affinity for a particular treat would not be a problem. But for a creative mastermind like Rohan, it was crushing. It meant he had to leave the serenity of his house at least once a week and venture out to the local ice cream parlor. Could he have simply bought ice cream at the grocery store and kept it in his fridge? Yes, but a true connoisseur recognized the superiority of freshly-made ice cream, and Hell would freeze over before Rohan spent hours making his own. He had manga to draw.

As with all things in his life, Rohan had a system for obtaining his one vice. He would ride his motorcycle to the ice cream parlor every Tuesday afternoon around one thirty, purchase a cone with one scoop, eat it at the store in a fairly expedient fashion, and then return home by two.

Today was meant to be the same as any other Tuesday. Rohan was in an especially good mood. That morning, he had finished another chapter, putting him a whole six months ahead of deadline. He entered the ice cream parlor in high spirits, only to have them instantly squashed.

Sitting at one of the tables, with a laptop open in front of him, was none other than Jotaro Kujo.

In Rohan’s opinion, there was nothing worse than running into someone you knew while out doing business. It was guaranteed to be awkward. Enemy Stands, ridiculous publishing deadlines, all that he could handle better than the uncomfortable moment of ‘oh, fancy seeing you here’ that inevitably awaited meeting an acquaintance at random. And the fact that it was Jotaro made the whole situation about ten times worse.

To say Jotaro was a quiet man would be an understatement. He was withdrawn and stoic to a fault, the sort of mysterious character who showed up to sweep the heroine off her feet and carry her away into the sunset. Jotaro probably had some dark secret or tragic past that made him as standoffish as he was. And Rohan would just love to read his story and find out.

No one else made Rohan feel the same as Jotaro did. He was a simply beautiful specimen of a man, like some massive work of art given life. But it was more than aesthetic appreciation. Rohan wanted to touch that body, to see every inch of it uncovered, to feel the skin against his. Rohan had tried many different words for that desire, but the one that suited it the most was attraction. He was attracted to Jotaro, and that made interacting with him a nightmare.

Rohan didn’t know what to say around Jotaro. To think the great author Rohan Kishibe was at a loss for words was hard to imagine, but it was true. Jotaro would say some gruff one-liner and Rohan would just melt, reduced to a stammering mess because it was so hard to believe someone like Jotaro could exist outside of manga.

“Hey, Rohan.” Jotaro looked up from his laptop and waved him over.

Maybe he could just leave. Ice cream wasn’t a necessity. Rohan could just go home and never leave the house. Have all his meals delivered, get Koichi to do his shopping, never show his face around Morioh again. Yeah, that could work.

But he couldn’t throw away his chance at Jotaro like that. If it had been anyone else, Rohan would have just turned around and walked out of the ice cream parlor. Instead, he made eye contact with Jotaro, quite a feat in itself, and held up a finger, the universal signal for ‘one minute’.  If he was going to be there, he would at least actually get ice cream.

Rohan ordered a scoop of mint chocolate chip, the color matched his green shirt rather nicely, and took the cone with shaking hands. Jotaro clearly wanted something from him. What could it be? Something to do with Kira most likely. Ever since the man had disappeared with three bodies in his wake, attacks by enemy Stand users had picked up in frequency and everyone in Morioh who knew about them was on high alert.

“Take a look at this,” Jotaro said, as Rohan approached his table. He pulled a chair up beside him.

Rohan sat down, and immediately became aware of how close together they were sitting. Jotaro probably hadn’t noticed, but their knees were almost touching. Perhaps Rohan could get away with touching their knees together, under the guise of an accident.

All thought of discreet touches was pushed from Rohan’s mind when he actually looked at the screen. “Are those starfish?”

There were two pictures open on the laptop side-by-side, showing two different yellowish starfish. “Yes.” Jotaro was as serious as ever. Surely this couldn’t be what he wanted to show Rohan, could it? He pointed at the one on the left. “This is the Japanese Common Starfish. And this-“ He pointed to the other. “Is a picture I took in Morioh Bay.”

“And?” Rohan knew Jotaro was some kind of biologist, but it hadn’t really come up until this point.

“You’re an artist, so you’ve got good eyes. What’s the difference between the two?”

Rohan squinted at the screen. The second picture was hard to make out, obviously not a neat, professional photograph like the one on the left. “Proportions. The arms are shorter and the bit in the middle is bigger on the right one.”

“I knew it.” There was a change in Jotaro’s face. It softened, not quite enough to call it a smile, but still noticeable. “Thank you.” Jotaro put his hand on Rohan’s shoulder and Rohan just about felt his heart stop in shock.

“Wh-what does it mean?” Rohan couldn’t believe the sound of his own voice. It was much higher than it should be. His face felt hot.

“I think Morioh Bay has a unique subspecies of Japanese Common Starfish.” Jotaro looked down at the table. “And your ice cream’s melting.”

Indeed it was, running down the cone and dripping onto the table in little green puddles. Rohan grabbed a handful of paper napkins from the dispenser on the table and attempted to clean up the mess as best he could.

Jotaro dipped his finger in one of the puddles and raised it to his lips. His tongue darted out and licked the liquid off and it was almost erotic the way it moved. Rohan felt dirty just watching.

“Mint?” Jotaro asked. Rohan nodded, trying desperately to hide what was quickly turning into quite an impressive blush, and he continued, “I haven’t had mint chocolate chip in a while. May I?”

Rohan somehow found his voice. “Go ahead.” Suddenly Jotaro’s hand was on top of his and Jotaro leaned forward and…

In most cases, Rohan was above flat out lust, but this was not most cases. Jotaro’s tongue moved like a cat’s and Rohan could see every ridge and valley and it took every ounce of strength not make some terribly embarrassing sound when all he could think about was how that tongue would feel probing the inside of his mouth, how it would taste, how Jotaro would look licking his-

“Rohan?”

“I- I’m fine.” Rohan was jerked rudely from his imagination and back into reality, where Jotaro was unfortunately not doing anything like that.

“Good.” Jotaro had that look again, that almost smile. “Are you busy this evening?”

“I don’t think so…”

“Would you like to go out to the bay and look for starfish?” Jotaro seemed to notice what he was saying, and it was his turn to look a bit flustered. “Because you’re so good at telling them apart.”

Rohan couldn’t believe it. Jotaro was so calm. He shouldn’t be getting embarrassed at such a businesslike request. Unless he meant something else by it.

“I’d love to.”

#jjba #jotahan #jotarohan #ask #fic request #thanks for the request #it was a lot of fun to write

[everyonesomething]

Session Twenty

Helia (GM): Dear Miss Runekill and Friends.

You are cordially invited to attend… a murder!

I, Marvelius, have heard you are tracking down information of the Lich, Szass Tam! I think I will be able to help. I will be hosting a murder mystery party at my home at Baldur's Gate. Transportation will be provided.

Helia (GM): You are invited to attend this event and help solve the case of my untimely demise. We will start the evening with hors d'oeuvres and mingling, followed by a spectacular dinner prepared by my personal chef. After dinner you will find me “dead” and it will be upon you to determine who amongst my guests is the murderer. I shall endeavor to play the best corpse I can but you must excuse the occasional chortle as you stumble through my clues.

After the party, I would be happy to answer any questions you have about the Lich.

Magically Yours,

Marvelius

In this session, the truth comes out.

The set-up: We're invited to a party!

The Game: We get an early start to the day and hit the road, keeping our eyes open for a rest area for breakfast. Edith is behind the wheel, enjoying the experience of driving on the familiar highway roads of her youth. Until a glowing envelope slaps into the windshield and she suddenly brakes.

We're all pretty peeved at someone sending an envelope at a moving car, we're even less impressed that it's full of glitter and an invitation to a party.

The host—Marvelius—was one of Edith's professors back at university and magically sending a party invitation is exactly the kind of thing she expects of him. She's hesitant to turn down a chance to talk to him, he might have useful information for our lich search.

Edith Runekill: "He's a notable authority in the field and WOULD know about the Lich... but... but he's also exactly the kinda guy who would SEND A SENDING SPELL TO A MOVING CAR LIKE SOME KIND OF MANIAC."

Sydney Gaydos easily looks over Edith's shoulder to read the note. She makes a delighted noise at the invitation. "Murder mystery party! We are going, right?"

Edith Runekill: "But we need information. That's the whole reason we're headed to Prastuil."

"So. I'd be reluctant to turn this chance down."

"Even if I'm mad about it."

Grim: "A murder."

"The hell?"

Malkas: "A murder party"

Edith Runekill: "He thought he was such a big shot whenever he came to the university, since he was famous on the outside. Bigger than this two-bit college town in the country."

Malkas sneers, "Classy."

Edith Runekill: "But he was an accomplished wizard, and expert in fields that weren't really A&M's specialty."

"You kinda HAD to put up with him."

Grim: "So what is this, some kinda sick game?"

Edith Runekill: "I... I'm surprised he remembered me."

Malkas: "You must have impressed him."

Pepper: "Wizards have the worst parties."

"But the best food and drink."

Malkas: "Did you wear that red button up cardigan?"

Malkas raises and lowers his eyebrows.

Pepper: "This is at least doubly true for wizard professors."

Grim is kind of disturbed by how cavalier everyone is being

Malkas: "And yeah, basically Grim. It's like, he pretends to be dead and we guess who the murderer is. It's like, a test of wits."

Edith Runekill: "You don't think it was something like THAT and not my academic accomplishments, do you, Mal?"

Edith Runekill frowns.

Grim looks at Mal, utterly perplexed

Edith Runekill: "It's a game. He loves games."

Grim: "Pretends to be dead?"

Edith Runekill: "And we're gonna need to play it, if he knows something."

Sydney Gaydos: "It's a grand amount of fun! We must go! The Great Detective hasn't had the chance to show off her skills and this would be prefect to do so."

Malkas sighs at Sydney.

Grim: "Why the hell would anyone waste their time on shit like this?"

Even hearing about this guy second-hand from Edith is tiring, but if he has free food information then we should at least check it out. So, off we go. The party is being hosted in Marvelius's wizard tower, situated inside his own personal pocket dimension. The wizard himself appears before us in a flash of purple smoke and ushers us inside for introductions.

Edith recognizes one of the guests, a kobold named Braights who was a few years under her in university. Also in attendance are Kaelas Aesaris, a half-orc-half-elf bounty-hunter looking type; Aedris Pathward, some kind of mage with a curiously small head; and Diz, a young wizard boy. Grim strikes up a conversation with Kaelas, they've crossed paths in the past.

Grim: "How the hell'd you wind up mixed in this?" She nods towards Marvelius

Kaelas Aesaris shrugs, "Oh, you know. We used to date."

Kaelas Aesaris: "I'm off men now."

Kaelas Aesaris takes a sip of wine.

Grim raises her eyebrows. looking towards Marvelius and then back at Kaelas

Grim: "No shit, huh."

"Why'd you come back for this, then?"

Kaelas Aesaris: "Free food. And he said he'd give me a teleport closer to a job I'm on."

Grim nods. Free food and transport. The bounty hunter way.

Meanwhile Edith catches up with Braights.

Edith Runekill drops her voice to a mock-conspiratorial whisper. "Can you BELIEVE that Marvelius' Sending spell arrived when we were DRIVING!"

Edith Runekill: "Nearly had a heart attack! Haha."

Braights: "Oh... That's weird, I got mine in the mail."

Edith Runekill: "Well. I get the impression I wasn't at the top of his list of invitees, if you know what I mean."

Braights: "He, uh, seemed to make a big deal out of getting such a... rare specimen such as myself to attend."

Braights scowls.

Edith Runekill looks aghast. "A specimen? You're a very talented young wizard, not a-- That guy. That guy!!"

Pepper tries to make friends.

Pepper: "Who else got slapped in the face with a magic pile of glitter?" she asks, raising her hand.

Pepper looks around expectantly.

Aedris Pathward raises his hand a little shyly.

Pepper mage-hand high fives Aedris

Aedris Pathward squeaks a little.

Pepper gives Aedris a thumb's up, for good measure.

Syd gets her detective'ing on.

Sydney Gaydos decides Marvelius would be best to talk to first! "Let Gaydos thank you first and foremost for the invitation to this partly, and secondly, proudly tell you that you have the Great Detective Sydney Gaydos attending! Your murder will be solved in no time."

Marvelius: "Well, everyone mingle and have fun, I'll be checking on dinner. Remember~ One of you will be a murderer by the end of the evening! Please expect the message spell."

"Ah, lovely to have a real detective! I'm sure you'll make the evening memorable!"

And Mal and Edith get involved in child welfare.

Diz is examining Mal's tail with scientific interest.

Pepper peers over at Mal's new sidekick.

Edith Runekill smiles benignly at Diz, reminding herself that he's a child and doesn't know better. She was a lot older than 10, first time she saw a Tiefling.

Edith Runekill: "Diz, right?"

Diz: "Oh, yes miss! That's me!"

Edith Runekill: "How's being Marvelius' apprentice treating you?"

Diz: "Oh, it's amazing! I'm learning so much a-about housekeeping and plumbing repair and magic!"

"And, uh... proper ... wine uncorking..."

Diz: "I'm so fortunate to be working with such a famous wizard, though!"

Diz: "It's just a summer internship but still!"

Edith Runekill feels silently relieved that there's an End to his apprenticeship.

Edith Runekill: "Did he teach you any neat tricks?"

Diz: "Oh! Yes, uh... "

Diz points to the flowers on the table and says a command word. The flowers shrivel and die.

Terrifying necromancy aside, Marvelius doesn't seem to have taught Diz much of any useful magic. Edith sets him down to walk him through Mage Hand and Detect Magic. She whispers to Mal in Infernal that she can sense some large, pulsating magical thing from down the hall, but he reasons it's probably part of the game. Diz is impressed by Edith's magic and language skills, but he has to rush off to the kitchen to check on the gravy.

Grim and Kaelas leave to get some other things heated up as well. D'oh hohohoho.

Pepper and Aedris start talking about magic and wizards, Aedris mentioning that Marvelius likes to be a show-off.

Edith Runekill shrugs and walks over to where Pepper is.

Pepper repeats "Wizards" in the same way, with a smirk at Edith.

Edith Runekill: "What about us?"

Aedris Pathward sweats. TWO girls!

Edith Runekill adjusts her wizard hat.

Aedris Pathward: "Just, uh... Mild philosophical differences. I- I'm a sorcerer. Marvelius and I went to school together, you know."

Aedris Pathward has an edge to his voice.

Edith Runekill: "So you known him a long time, huh?"

Pepper: "Y'aright there? You look like a roast sitting under a heat lamp."

Edith Runekill: "I didn't know him until he came to lecture at my college."

Aedris Pathward: "Oh, uh... I don't know, it's weird seeing him after last time we met. We, uh... had a bit of a disagreement about our respective fields of study. I might be a sorcerer, but I still have my choices of magic, you know."

'Things got a bit heated and ..."

Aedris Pathward gestures to his head.

Edith Runekill winces sympathetically.

Sydney Gaydos: "He... shrunk your head?"

Aedris Pathward seems a little irritated now, "Yes."

Pepper: "What sort of hotbed of debauchery is this university of yours, Edith?"

Aedris Pathward: "This was at the Caster's Conference at Prastuil University."

Edith Runekill: "Casting a reduce spell in an argument is pretty dirty pool. And a wizard like Marvelius, you'd need somebody pretty powerful to cast enlarge on it again."

"Oh! We were headed to Prastuil, actually."

Malkas is trying very hard to keep a straight face. WIZARDS.

Pepper sends a Message to Mal. "Wizards."

Sydney Gaydos: "... Gaydos sees." She pulls out her notebook and jots that down, also noting Marv's feelings toward his apprentice.

Aedris Pathward grumps, "Don't I know it... He's always doing stuff like this. Showing off, showing me up."

Braights: "He's kind of a huge asshole."

Edith Runekill: "Showing off is one thing. Hurting people to do it is another."

Edith Runekill checks over her shoulder to make sure he's still gone.

Edith Runekill: "I respect his accomplishments as a wizard. But I really don't like him."

Braights: "You know, he bilked me outta almost five hundred gold for that Conjuration by Mail course."

Edith Runekill looks horrorstruck.

Braights has had a bit to drink. And is 2 feet tall.

Edith Runekill: "Mostly I just remember him... devoting undue attention to the sweaters I was wearing."

Malkas crunches down hard on a spring roll at that.

Pepper: "Sounds like most anyone here would have a motive to kill him." She adds a bom bom bommmm with Prestidigitation.

Sydney Gaydos writes ALL of this down.

Helia (GM): A blood-curdling scream rings out through the tower.

Edith Runekill: "He didn't remember a thing I said or did in class; I bet he just invited me 'cause I'm a pretty face and--"

"What was that!?"

Grim straight up ignores it

Kaelas Aesaris does too.

Pepper taps her chin. "Things are kicking off then, I guess."

Malkas: "... I guess the party has started."

Sydney Gaydos goes :D! "So we begin!"

Oh boy!

The group heads off in the direction of the scream and find Diz in Marvelius's study with his body—Marvelius is slumped over his desk and Diz is in a panic. Diz tells us he was supposed to be the fake murderer but he thinks Marvelius is dead for real. The group tries to reassure Diz it must be part of the game, but it's pretty obvious the dude's a corpse.

Aedris is unimpressed, as far as he's concerned this is just another way for Marvelius to show off. That's Marvelius the drama queen for you.

While Edith comforts Diz, Syd starts investigating the scene of the crime and we decide how to proceed.

Pepper: "Do you think someone should get Grim, maybe?" she says, putting her finger on the side of her nose and staring at Mal.

Grim no

Malkas: "Uh... sure."

Malkas knocks, "Grim? And... friend? Uh, so that Marvelous guy died for real."

Grim breaks away just long enough to say "Saw that coming"

Malkas: "Yeah, yeah. Do you wanna come look or just continue with what you're doing?"

Grim looks at Kaelas and lowers her voice for a moment "You give a shit about this, or...?"

Kaelas Aesaris: "Meh."

Grim raises her voice again "Y'all got this"

Malkas: "Alright, have fun."

Malkas returns to the room. "Grim's busy."

Edith Runekill: "...busy?"

Edith Runekill: "Hey, where's Kaelas?"

Malkas: "I just said Grim was busy."

Edith Runekill blushes scarlet.

Ahem.

Edith helps Syd look through the room and finds a necromantic object in Marvelius's lap—a large gem designed to trap a person's soul inside. And wouldn't you know it, there's a soul inside! Braights is surprised he had something like that, but Edith reminds them Marvelius taught Diz necromantic magic.

Continuing the investigation, Edith finds a metal bird that prompts us for a password and a large painting behind which is a wall safe containing... a stack of pornographic magazines. Charming.

Cap joins us in the study—she'd been sleeping in the camper—and we fill her in on the dead guy situation. Edith opens a trunk and has a bunch of doves fly at her face before she can look inside to find a bunch of trick magic items and a book. It's about Advanced Necromancy and the bookplate inside says it belongs to someone named Roger.

Edith Runekill: "Advanced Studies in Necromancy..."

Pepper mage hands an orange at Diz for something to do.

Edith Runekill: "Looks like he had some interests beyond just conjuration."

Diz grabs the orange and accidentally necrotizes it.

Pepper recoils

Diz :<

Braights pats Diz on the shoulder.

Capridi "those oranges went bad"

Pepper: "Uh," she says patting her pockets. "I think that was my only one."

Edith Runekill glances over her shoulder at Aedras.

Edith Runekill: "Hey, Aedras."

Malkas gives Diz ... a jar of jam and a spoon.

Edith Runekill: "Does the name Roger mean anything to you?"

Aedris Pathward: "Well... That's my name if you must know."

"But Roger ... well isn't much of a wizard name, is it?"

"Not next to Marvelius."

Edith Runekill: "I'm a wizard and I'm just called Edith."

Aedris Pathward: "Edith's not great either."

Edith Runekill: >:(

Malkas cuffs Aedris.

Sydney Gaydos: "Changing your name certainly isn't... strange."

Pepper: "[Elvish] Talk shit, get hit, bucko."

Edith Runekill: "So many wizards just get so... image conscious, I reckon," says Edith, who spent 30 gold and hours of her time enchanting her hat so she doesn't lose it.

Aedris Pathward: "Oh, whatever..."

The investigation continues, Syd looks at some of the books on the bookshelf and Cap gets involved by casting Talk To The Dead on the corpse. It doesn't answer, but the necromantic gem seems to try and respond, confirming it's Marvelius's soul trapped inside. We can't hear what he's saying, though.

One of the Necromancy books Syd finds has a note near a spell reminding Marvelius to ask Roger about it. Aedris tells us Marvelius was never good at that spell even though it's a very basic spell. It's Aedris's opinion that Marvelius isn't very good at magic all and furthermore he used to steal Aedris's books, spells, and Mazes & Monsters group.

But that doesn't mean he wanted him dead, any one of the other guests could have done him in. After all, Braights said they lost a lot of gold to Marvelius, he wasn't teaching Diz much of anything, and Kaelas had a bad break-up with him.

At this point, Edith is at a loss and goes for reinforcements.

Edith Runekill: "I'm going to get Grim. We really need her help. She's got experience with crime and murders and things like that."

Pepper: "Bring a bucket of cold water with you."

Edith Runekill knocks on the closet door. "Grim?"

Grim makes a non verbal noise of irritation.

Edith Runekill: "Grim, we could REALLY use your help. We're pretty sure an actual crime happened, and you got a lot more experience with that sort of thing than I do."

Kaelas Aesaris: "Busy in here, blondie."

Grim confirms. It's like her mouth is busy or something

Pepper peeks out into the hallway to see what Edith's up to

Pepper to Edith, "What's up?"

Edith Runekill makes kind of a pathetic "oof" sound as she tries to get the door open.

Malkas: "Edi, come back. Grim's fine."

Edith Runekill: "Please, Grim!! This is important!!"

Grim: "No it ain't."

Edith Runekill: "Marvelius has been dabbling in necromancy! This is a lot more serious than we thought it was!!"

Grim: "S'wizard shit. You got this." Grim has never sounded less invested.

Pepper sends a Message to Edith "You could just Knock the door open."

Edith Runekill Knocks the door open.

Pepper runs back to the room

Edith Runekill is covering her eyes.

Kaelas Aesaris: "What the fuck!"

Pepper to Mal "It was my idea, I'm sorry."

Grim looks up and just looks irritated

Malkas: "Edith will you get back in here?!"

Grim: "Runekill what the god damn hell?"

Kaelas Aesaris grabs the handle and yanks the door shut again.

Edith Runekill: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but this-- there's been a murder! It's serious!! We need help!!!"

Kaelas Aesaris: "It's only Marvelius, who cares!"

Edith Runekill looks completely flustered and is kind of freaking out.

Edith Runekill: "I mean I don't like him either but he's extremely powerful and whatever took him out might be a big deal??"

Grim pulls her clothes into some semblance of order and storms out

Grim: "Son of a goddamn bitch, what the hell's so goddamn urgent about some two bit wizard fakin' his own death?"

Kaelas Aesaris grumps and follows.

Grim's all for us leaving, not like she's getting paid to find this particular murderer, but Edith and Syd are adamant that we have to solve the case. Edith's worried someone involved with Tam might have done him in, and Syd is too much of a detective to leave something like this halfway done.

Edith and Syd reason the gem might have been a trap set up by one of the party-goers. Grim still maintains it's not our problem, Marvelius looks rich enough to be able to afford a resurrection. Cap decides to fix the problem herself and casts Reanimate the Dead on the corpse and hands it the soul gem. Fixed, right?

Well. If Marvelius was always a shambling mindless corpse holding his own soul in a booby-trapped gem.

Capridi: "Problem solved?"

Grim stops

Pepper jumps a little. "Jeezy creezy"

Sydney Gaydos Stares.

Malkas: "Oh Ba'al."

Edith Runekill: "Um."

Diz wails.

Pepper forcibly turns Diz to face the wall.

Grim goes for her rifle reflexively and then realises she left it in the car

Edith Runekill: "Capridi! There was a child here."

Diz: "This is the worst internship. I wish I'd gone to clowning camp..."

Diz sniffles.

Capridi: "Do you... want me to teach him how to do this or?"

"Cuz that sounds a little harsh"

Edith Runekill , not sure what else to do, just hugs Diz.

Pepper: "It'll be fine! There's. Y'know."

Pepper smacks Cap in the arm with mage hand.

Capridi: "I mean, I didn't learn this until I was 18"

Grim grumbles under her breath

Capridi: "OH HEY!"

Grim: "Fuck this whole scene."

Edith Runekill: "Shh, shh, shh. It's gonna be okay."

Malkas: "Please do not teach this child anything, Cap."

Capridi rubs her arm "Hey, knowledge is power"

Problem solved! Braights turns and heads to the front door but they find it's locked—we're stuck in here for the time being. Cap un-animates the corpse, Edith and Mal agree they feel awful for poor Diz, and Grim just waits for an opportunity to finish what she started with Kaelas.

Through some more detective work involving investigating the body, Edith and Syd find the password for the mechanical bird. It's a sort of diary and the last message it plays back for us is Marvelius talking about a package he just received from Braights before it's mysteriously cut off by a scream.

Braights claims it was just their RSVP for the party, but Diz tells us the package only arrived that morning. He shows us the wrapping for the package, but there's no name or anything on the outside, it just has a postmark from Plaguewrought A&M. We're not getting anywhere with all this lying so Syd takes matters into her own hands.

Sydney Gaydos in a moment of impulse, she casts Zone of Truth.

Pepper: "Y'know, we'll get out of here faster if everyone just lays out on the table why they wanted to kill this guy and how they'd do it if they were to do it."

Sydney Gaydos makes the could you Lie to me face.

Malkas: "Uh.... Syd, what'ja... Whatcha do?"

Sydney Gaydos crosses her arms proudly. "Casted Zone of Truth of course! Now we're all going to be honest."

Capridi stays quiet

Aedris Pathward: "Well this is... Illegal!"

Edith Runekill: "Good thinking, Sydney."

Braights: "Extremely illegal."

Sydney Gaydos: "So is murder but here we all are."

Edith Runekill: "Well, so's murdering somebody with a soul trap."

Pepper: "I think we're a bit outside of any jurisdiction at the moment."

Edith Runekill gives Sydney a thumbs up.

Diz bursts into tears, "It was me, I did sit in the pie!"

Pepper: "Settle down, nobody asked you what happened to any pies."

Edith Runekill shows Braights the package. "Is this the envelope you sent the RSVP in?"

Braights: "Yes." Braights snaps.

Edith Runekill isn't enjoying this at all. And badly wants Braights to say something that exonerates them.

Edith Runekill: "Wh... what did you send in it?"

Grim rubs her eyes with one hand, cigarette perched between her knuckles

Braights: "The letter ... and ... something that Aedris arranged."

Kaelas Aesaris: "Can we go back to making use of the closet now?"

Edith Runekill turns to face Aedris. "Aedris? Roger. What is it that you arranged?"

Aedris Pathward: "You ... wouldn't understand. It's complicated."

Sydney Gaydos tries to look menacing if the Zone of Truth isn't enough.

Edith Runekill: "Try me."

Edith Runekill: "I'm a qualified, accredited wizard."

Edith Runekill looks to the crystal. "Did you have a hand in that?"

Aedris Pathward: "You ... You don't know what it's like having to WORK with that man!"

"He stole my spellbooks, my friends! He copied off me on tests!"

Edith Runekill: "He... he obviously treated you very badly."

"B-but that doesn't justify... sucking his soul out."

"Or whatever happened here."

Aedris Pathward: "He's bilked dozens of people. He hasn't even been teaching his apprentice any magic, Braights and I've been teaching him necromancy by mail!"

Pepper: "[Elvish] Okay I'm pretty sure that's not a good thing to do."

Edith Runekill: [Elvish] "Teaching a child necromancy is terrible."

Braights: "He stole my life savings! And just killing him is too easy, he can pop over to any cleric for that!"

"We wanted to hit him where it hurts!"

Edith Runekill: [Elvish] "I... I expected better of Braights."

Aedris Pathward: "His wallet."

Malkas: "Why wouldn't you just ... steal shit?"

Capridi is enjoying the show

Grim: "Y'all really need me for this? Ain't been laid in about a month and I got some hell of a hunger on for Kael's downtown."

Pepper: "Please, Grim, there are children here."

Grim wasn't even affected by zone of truth, she's just super not into this whole scene

Malkas: "Yeah, alright, just... go."

Kaelas Aesaris goes around Malkas.

Grim is Out, seeya.

Aedris and Braights come clean—they plotted to kill Marvelius and force him to pay for a costly resurrection because of everything he did to the both of them. He stole money from Braights, and he stole just about everything else he could from Aedris. It explains why all the necromancy books in his study had Roger's (Aedris's) name crossed out and why Diz knows necromancy at all—they taught him via correspondence to make up for Marvelius's neglect.

Even though we have them dead to rights, Braights and Aedris are confident there's nothing we can do about it.

Braights: "You can't arrest us, there's no laws in pocket dimensions and you're not cops!"

Pepper: "Are you sure we aren't?"

Pepper raises an eyebrow.

Braights: "Are you?"

Pepper: "Cops don't have to tell you."

Pepper folds her arms.

Braights looks at Sydney, "Are you cops?"

Sydney Gaydos: "Gaydos is the Great Detective Sydney Gaydos, properly licensed law enforcement. So she can and will arrest you."

Pepper 's like :O

Braights: "Shit!"

Pepper: "Ah HAH."

"Even though she didn't have to tell you."

Capridi takes note of this conversation

Pepper: "Eat it, nerd."

Braights pulls their wand from their pocket. Aedris does the same.

Pepper: "[Elvish] Fucking wizards."

Sydney Gaydos: "Do not make this difficult."

Diz whimpers and latches on to Mal's leg.

Edith Runekill brandishes her staff. "Easy now.”

Sydney Gaydos pulls out her pistol to hold it directly at Aedris. "Please, do not do this. Make this easier for all of us."

Aedris Pathward lowers his wand, Braights does the same.

Sydney Gaydos keeps her gun leveled. "Will you come quietly then?"

Braights: "Come quietly where?"

"There's no laws in this dimension!"

"And you ... probably don't have extradition rights."

Sydney Gaydos: "Edith. Isn't there some sort of law breaking sending Soul Trapping crystals to people? And didn't it come from outside the dimension?"

Pepper: "The folks at the post office will be very upset."

Edith Runekill: "This place might have no laws, but Plaguewrought Land does."

Grim told you guys this was bullshit.

Edith Runekill: "And sending fatal traps through the federal mail is DEFINITELY against them."

Malkas: "Probably this tower has a dungeon, too?"

Pepper: "Yeah, let's starve 'em out."

Malkas: "No, I mean... Until we get, like ... more cops here."

Pepper: "Oh. Eh."

Edith Runekill: "Oh."

"That... makes more sense."

Sydney Gaydos: "They can always be held in our camper. The salesman did say it's made to keep things out, and keep things in!"

Pepper: "I like the starving idea a lot better." She stares at Aedris like 'Zone of Truth', what up

Edith Runekill: "More killing doesn't make killing right."

Sydney Gaydos holsters her gun finally and pulls out her handcuffs before taking both the CRIMINALS and cuffing them together.

Finally we call for an ambulance, get the criminals squared away, and reconvene outside while we wait.

Grim slinks out, considerably more chill than she was during peak crime scene

Kaelas Aesaris: "Well, I ain't gettin' teleported. See ya around, Grim."

Kaelas Aesaris gets on her super cool motorcycle.

Grim nods to Kaelas

Grim: "Later."

Kaelas Aesaris drives through the pocket dimension, opened to a frostbitten landscape, and vanishes.

Edith Runekill watches Kaelas. And, suddenly, gets why Grim... well.

Pepper , to Grim. "And you didn't want to go to the party."

Malkas is grouchy because nobody actually got dinner.

Grim: "Shut the fuck up." But she's smiling as she lights a cigarette.

Edith Runekill: "Hey, Grim...?"

"Sorry."

Grim: "Ain't a thing."

"....just don't pull that again."

Pepper is sprinting and is halfway to the car "The Knock was my ideaaaaaaaa."

Grim is the opposite of surprised.

In the end, we didn't get any information about the lich, but it wasn't a total loss. With the mystery solved, Syd gives Edith a promotion to being her official Deputy. An honor and a privilege!

So overall, everyone had a pretty good time.

Well, except the murder victim and the murderers. But they were all kinda jerks.

The end! No moral!

#previously on #summary #neverwinter 1933

[entergamingxp]

Those Who Remain review – a torturous exercise in mediocrity • Eurogamer.net

I almost gave up on Those Who Remain halfway through. It was the lions, you see. A first-person blunderfest for horror obsessives only, the game’s setting is split between a menacing night-time reality and a weed-choked, oceanic otherworld in which objects float and the puzzles are more, well, videogamey. One such puzzle is a labyrinth dotted with lion statues. The idea is to carry the statues to candlelit plinths. The problem is that there’s a monster in your path, an oily personification of buried guilt and suffering. There’s a lot of that kind of thing in Those Who Remain – accusing messages on walls, silver-masked demons chortling about sin and forgiveness – but for the most part, the emotions you’re repressing are boredom and frustration.

The main character has no means of defending himself, so you must take winding routes to those plinths while lugging chunks of Umbrella Mansion Surplus stoneware that prevent you from sprinting, block the view and have a habit of jumping out of your hands. These burdens create tension, of course, but only for the few seconds it takes you to realise that you’re playing a mandatory-stealth McGuffin-fetching puzzle with instadeath. After my eighth try I decided that life was too short. But I came back the next morning and beat the area, thanks partly to bloody-mindedness and partly (I speculate) to a developer update that prevents the monster from chasing you endlessly once alerted. Let me tell you: I wish I’d stopped at the lions.

Those Who Remain does have some neat ideas, but all of them are squashed beneath a great steaming heap of mediocrity. The premise is Silent Hill as rewritten by an Alan Wake who has run out of coffee, and possibly self-respect. Leading man Edward is drinking and monologuing himself into an early grave over the loss of his family, as leading men in horror games often do. As the curtain goes up, he’s driven to a motel to break off a torrid affair, only for somebody (Wake?) to steal his car and maroon him outside Dormont – a spookily abandoned, predictably metaphysical town whose shadows are filled with knife-wielding spectres, their eyes flickering in the depths of closets and cornfields. Turn on a light and the spectres vanish, rendering the area safe for traversal.

The immediate question is: why not carry a light source with you? And Edward does – for the first few minutes, brandishing a cigarette lighter as he hurries after his car. But he soon loses the lighter and declines to replace it, even as the game’s tedious psychodrama drags you to malls, toolsheds and police stations filled with, at the very least, burning chair-legs and candles. There’s something loveable about this unwillingness to spoil the game’s core concept. It fills me with nostalgia for those perversely specific lock-and-key puzzles in older Silent Hills. And the spectres are eerie enough to begin with, especially when encountered inside. One dependable source of heeby-jeebies is reaching around a door frame to flip a light switch, inches from death.

The fear lies partly with how the spectres turn Those Who Remain’s shortage of actual character animations into an advantage, and partly with the sense that they are still there when the lights are on – that you are walking through them, kept from their blades by a single parameter in a game where objects occasionally glitch themselves invisible. But that fear soon turns to familiarity and – when you’re scratching your head over an obtuse item puzzle – annoyance. I started throwing things at the watchers, trying to recreate the exploit from Skyrim where you could blind shopkeepers to your thievery by putting baskets over their heads. Even disregarding the point about mobile light sources, the perils of darkness are inconsistently applied: there are pools of deep shadow in the game that are somehow safe to walk through, which means that you always think of the light/dark conceit as a designer’s gimmick.

Still, all that’s small potatoes next to the irritation conjured by the game’s handful of mobile threats. These include a Frankensteiny blur of body parts with a searchlight for a face, whose approach is heralded by the dopplering wail of an ambulance siren. The Frankenstein creature stars in many of the stealth bits, fidgeting around as you try to solve puzzles that take you back and forth across the area. She’s not difficult to avoid, but she’s more of a meddler than an adversary. You kind of wish you could just usher her to a chair and give her a book to read, while you figure things out.

And then there’s the major antagonist of sorts, one of those flapping-head harridans familiar from Jacob’s Ladder who screams and sobs in your ear as you flee down corridors packed with dead ends and moving obstacles. These gauntlet runs throw the game’s lousy checkpointing into sharper relief – die, and you’ll often have to re-complete puzzles and re-experience scares that were pretty unconvincing to begin with.

The areas themselves are charmless and indistinct, not in an exciting, feeling-along-wall-with-danger-nearby way, but in an annoying, stepped-in-dogfood-while-fumbling-for-the-doorhandle way. The game’s buildings are, in theory, iconic chunks of Americana, the kind of thing Remedy revels in, but they all feel interchangeable thanks to furniture-showroom scene composition. The spirit realm is appealing mostly because it’s relatively well-lit, and has a wider colour palette. It’s accessed via magic doors, and creates some fleeting intrigue as you ponder what the differences between realities suggests about the characters and premise.

The puzzles run more of a gamut, quality-wise. Some are inoffensive but insipid, such as turning valves in the right order to activate fire sprinklers and clear a route. Others are slightly more involving. In one later section, the setting flicks rhythmically between realities, giving you a window to hurry past barriers or hazards that don’t exist in the other world. The spirit world conundrums incline towards the goofy – there’s a frightfully unwieldy specimen that has you covering runes with barrels to move blocks around. And some puzzles, like the item hunts, are an absolute chore. At intervals Edward is required to condemn or forgive some local sinner to progress, a series of choices that shapes his own fate. Before you can do this you need to learn everything you can about said unfortunate, which involves picking through dozens of lockers and drawers for backstory documents, often while hiding from Searchlight Lady.

Those Who Remain hints at being a serious exploration of mental illness, but in practice, Edward is just the same old Sad/Mad Dad the horror genre can’t seem to wash its hands of, growling things like “your life feels like a movie” as he lumbers towards the final accounting. The misbehaving men and boys he’s asked to pass judgement on are just as clumsily sketched – I felt nothing towards them, positive or negative. I can’t say the same for the game they’re a part of. If Those Who Remain is a purgatory for wayward souls, its true victim is the player.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/05/those-who-remain-review-a-torturous-exercise-in-mediocrity-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=those-who-remain-review-a-torturous-exercise-in-mediocrity-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net