#foolish in shark glasses my beloved

[solaneceae]

my battery is low, and it's getting dark.

a codebreakers fanfic about étoiles losing his sight. read on Ao3

It starts off with light blurriness — the kind you get when you forget to remove your contacts before bed, dryness and irritation welcoming you back to the waking world. Étoiles doesn’t wear contacts, although he does don a pair of sturdy, cheap rectangular glasses on occasion, whenever reports have to be read or written in thin leather-bound books for the Résistance’s upper echelon. 

(Upper echelon he’s never caught a whiff off, by the way. Étoiles understands the need for secrecy, for compartmentalization — but damn, it does get lonely here in headquarters, with nothing but his own voice and long-dried ink speaking of codes going rogue and islander alignments to entertain himself with.)

He blinks, once, twice, rubbing at his eyeballs through the skin of his lids. No amelioration. He shrugs it off, readjusts the straps of his slime armor. It’s a shit one, not even the good enchants on it. But he’s been restless lately, antsy. Not quite worried, but something else, something in the negative shape of a beloved, beret-wearing egg. Ants under his greenish skin, a fire only the cold bite of enemy blades and a close brush with Lady Death can fix.

He likes Kristin. She’s funny, with her large brimmed hat and gentle smile and gentler words still. Philza’s a lucky man.

“You are sad,” she would say, in the space-between-spaces he would drift to when downed, just before the ‘doom-doom’ of revival. The crimson bud of her smile would twist into a scowl, as she watched him give her a two-fingered salute. “Is that why I see you so often, starling?”

“I’m not sad,” he would answer without fail — the ache inside his chest wasn’t sadness. Étoiles didn’t do sad. He killed, he destroyed, his body grown in a weapon meant to hurt and maim and be hurt in return. Meant to be wielded by someone worthy. (He thinks of pitch-black feathers and a wheezy laugh, the tingle of wither-decay dancing on his skin, the smell of bone. Claws digging into his bony hips, a litany of trills speaking of ownership-claim, great shadows trapping him in so effectively. His knee guards stained by fresh soil where potatoes are endlessly grown in honor of a great warrior he once crossed blades with. Worship, devotion.)

“I’m not sad,” he mumbles, jumping down the well and into the darkness of the dungeon below. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a shit one, and he could scratch that itch in the back of his mind that demanded blood be spilled, be it his or otherwise. “Maybe I die for real today, let’s goooo.”

He never does. He’s too good at dungeoning, too good at placing blocks and throwing splash potions at his feet, golden apples now a rare last resort because he knows what happens when he eats too many. Aaaah, what a pity, he thinks, as he loses himself in the clash of metal on metal and the grunt of mobs falling at his feet. What a pity, I feel nothing. Bad day for me, bad day.

***

The blurriness stays. Days go by, sluggish and quiet, too quiet on this shit island, and no amount of sleep or healing potions make it any better. His arm stings with static-burn where the black and green binary tar has spread, higher, creeping up his neck. But it does nothing to hinder his movements, doesn’t dull the sharpness of his mind. So he ignores it. “Maybe you should get that checked out or something,” Foolish pokes at it once, as they sit and talk atop the Titan’s head using the blue and green plush chairs the TazerCraft have sneaked in. Pac e Mike, wow wow, sings a little voice in Étoiles’ mind whenever he sees splashes of blue and green, because those two live rent-free in everyone’s builds and brains.

“It’s okay,” he smiles at the shark-totem, easy and casual and Étoiles. “It doesn’t hurt.” It doesn’t. “It’s not changing me.” He is changing, that softness that Pomme had made bloom inside him eroding away with every day she’s gone. It’s harder to stay still, harder to stop and talk to the others, because half of them are depressed and the other half are going insane. But none of that is the code’s doing. “Look, I’ll prove it! 1v1 stick?” he jumps to his feet, throwing a wooden stick at his friend with a fiendish grin. “1v1, right now, let’s go.”

Foolish chuckles, even though his smile doesn’t reach his emerald-carved eyes. (His features are hazy, fuzziness getting worse every time Étoiles wakes. Doesn’t matter.) 

They fight, Étoiles takes it home with six hearts to spare. And he still feels empty.

***

Lilacs. Sunflowers. Cornflowers. Poppies.

Flower biomes were Pomme’s favorites. They’re hard to find, but Étoiles is one patient, stubborn cucumber. “T’aurais adoré ça, légende,” he hums, picking another poppy by the stem and stuffing it into his inventory, the frozen subspace keeping it suspended in time and fresh. He can almost hear the pitter-patter of her little cheeto legs in the grass, the rustle of the blades against her shell. The bomp of a red sign being placed, asking for more red, more blue, more of every color to make her siblings flower crowns and dye her trusty scythe like a rainbow.

He can barely make out their shape anymore, only differentiating roses from poppies by tracing their petals with gold-scarred fingers. He sees a blue blur somewhere at his right, oh, cornflower probably. Her secret code.

He lets out a deep, guttural groan and lets his body fall backwards, hitting the plush grass with a thump. A few butterflies flutter out of the way, one of them settling back on the bridge of the warrior’s nose. He glares at it, faded golden stars comically crossed. He only sees the yellow of its wings, stark against sky blue. “Hey, hey. Tu vas rien trouver ici, tu sais. J’ai pas fleuri depuis des plombes.”

The critter’s wings flap once, unbothered. Étoiles blows on it to make it go away, fails. (He’s a failure, at everything. Fails to keep his kid safe, fails to win a 1v1 against an insect.) Soon enough, there is enough butterflies on him to pin him to the ground under the would-be guilt of disturbing them. Étoiles whines, childish and unserious. “Vas-y, j’peux plus bouger. Pas juste. Même la nature me déteste, c’est bon.”

He’s missed this. The warmth of a sunbeam, the scent of fertile soil, the brush of grass blades, the call of the earth below pulling at him. Part of him wants to sink into it, curl up in Her embrace like a child would in their mother’s womb, forget about the world and the Federation and the Codes and all this shit. Maybe he could fall asleep right here. Let his body soak up the sun, let himself bloom again. Let that softness grow out of his skin for all to see, like he used to. Or, he thinks he used to. The memories of Before are static-fuzz between his ears, unreachable unless he looks at them at the corner of his eye, so to speak.

(The freezing cold, then heat as air exploded around him, an impact. Physicality, sudden and unexpected, the song of the stars loud in his ears as he opened his eyes for the first time in front of a bewildered human in a frayed straw hat. He was happy, wasn’t it? He thinks he used to be happy. What happened?)

But Étoiles is a warrior, a weapon, and weapons dull and rust and grow weak if left to rest. So he takes a deep breath, pushes himself up. “Désolé,” he hums to the butterflies as they scatter away. They are but bright, colorful blobs in his dulling eyes. “Désolé,” he says as he warps back home to forge yet another axe. 

His inventory is full of flowers that he’ll forget about, wrapping him in a constant mix of herbal scents that has Cellbit recoiling next time they cross paths. Étoiles doesn’t notice it, the Brazilian’s bothered expression lost on his rapidly-decaying vision.

***

By the time the Code challenges him to what Étoiles knows will be their last duel for the foreseeable future, his sight is all but gone, everyone and their dog has taken notice, and he has brushed off their concern. “I don’t need to see to click good,” he boasts, slamming down deepslate to launch himself fast and run circles around a disgruntled Pac. “See, see! I’m strafing, I’m doing it, playing the game.” Pac makes a strange sound, one he struggles to guess the emotion behind without body language. “It’s okay, Pac. It’s easy. There’s no problem, at all.”

Phil isn’t here yet, can’t see any names on his comlink but Tubbo told him he wasn’t. Shame, shame he won’t be there to see him die, Étoiles thinks as the rain soaks through his shirt, the boom of lightning bothering him more than he lets show. His ears are ringing as he jumps, ducks, tugs at the string of his bow and sends an arrow flying where he knows the Code is, he can feel it, the only spot that doesn’t smell like anything but void. But there’s no feedback, no satisfying sound of health being chipped at, nothing.

This Code is too strong, his sword winging an off-tune melody as it goes through the binary without ripping or tearing. No damage. Ah, he thinks, so they have finally stopped playing. I see now.

The back of his chestplate shatters into a blast of broken enchant magic and diamond shards, some of them lodging themselves into his flesh. Something cold sinks between his ribs, brushing against his spine in a white-hot flash of pain that irradiates through his whole body, and oh, yeah, it’s over. It’s joever, as Tubbo would say. “GGs,” he gasps through a mouthful of dark green blood. He coughs it up, lets it splash down his neck and paint his shirt. Tubbo’s screaming somewhere, too far away for Étoiles to discern the words. “You- eugh, you slash-kill’ed me, good job you cheater. Easy win.”

The entity growls, a hum-buzz that makes his brain (or whatever he has for brains, maybe lettuce?) rattle inside his skull. The blade slides out, cutting away at him further on its way out, and his body falls into a puddle of rainwater and mud with a wet thud. It hurts, blackered arm buzzing, pain creeping up his neck and the right side of his face, extinguishing the last of his remaining sight. 

He faintly realises that almost nobody knows about his respaw mechanic. Ah, et merde. He hopes they’ll have the presence of mind to ask Antoine, when they realise he wouldn’t just re-pop into existence seconds after his death… or when they noticed his body starting to wilt and decay, if they stuck around for long enough.

(Tallulah knows, he remembers. He told her. But had she told Philza, before she disappeared along with all the other eggs?)

Through his fading senses, his comm buzzes with what he knows is his first death message in a really long time. He can make out the sound of rapid footsteps, clickety hooves and heavy, leather work boots. Tubbo and Pierre. He closes his eyes, not that he needs to anymore for darkness to cradle him. He lets go.

He doesn’t see Kristin this time, only hears a faint sigh and a gentle breath sending him off into the void. He hopes they find his seed soon. He doesn’t wanna stay missing for too long, after all.

***

His personal death-void is not so bad of a place. Boring, obviously, but there’s a familiarity to it, to the way the darkness shrouds him like a heavy blanket, pushing against him from all sides. Not oppressive but comforting. Cradling, instead of crushing.

It reminds him of the dirt patch he was born in — he had been asleep and new, just ripe for the picking, dirt-stained hands pulling at his stem with the roughness of a long-repeated gesture. He had screamed, he thinks, not in pain, but to show the world he was here and alive, hello, hello sun, hello dirt, hello person! Had given poor old Théo a heart attack too.

Ah. He could remember, now. Théo, his leathered face and kind eyes with crow feet, wary at first before this walking, talking little legume with the night sky in his eyes, flower-covered vine-tail like some sort of umbilical cord trailing behind him as he follows the old farmer around, asking him endless questions in barely-legible French. But… yes, he’d been kind to him, Étoiles thinks. The first face his face saw. Makes sense it would be one of the first things that came back to him. Maybe remembering was easier in the void? Maybe he should die more often.

…Nah. Dying wasn’t his style. And having to regrow a whole new body over a week was annoying. He had things to do in the island! Like talking with people (eurgh), and giving them things (yes) and fighting with Philza (yes! yes! yes!) and have fun!

So he waits, oblivion pulling at him like gravity. The void is a quiet place, sometimes, but more often it’s not, with the song of supernovas and wailing stars far away keeping him aware, listening. He hums along to it with no mouth or vocal chords (not yet, still growing, still so small, unripe), and sometimes he swears he can hear another voice singing with him. Off-key, awful really, almost crow-like, but it sounds like someone he cares about, so he’s happy to listen to its drone.

Other times, he sleeps. And he dreams of tiny hands and quiet chirps and clicks, of the yesyes uncle Phil taught her, of the chrr-chrr-peep that means him, when she calls Étoiles’ name in her own little language. And he curls around the memory, softness, and lets it carry him up into the stars glittering behind still-forming eyelids.

***

“Étoiles.”

He hums — warmth, the slow beating heart of the earth. The choir of stars constantly burning far, far away. He could listen to it forever, because he had been listening to it since the birth of the first star, he knew.

“Mate. You with me? C’mon, s’been a week already. Come up here, you can do it.”

The voice scratches pleasantly at the back of his brain. But the earth is so warm, so comfy, a cocoon of peace and respite he’s not sure he wants to leave. He sighs with no lungs to breathe, no need for them, when all he could ever need is right there — perfect temp, perfect moisture, glucose, carbon dioxide, rich nutrients all around. Who needs gapples, really. Or thoughts. Or responsibilities. This is the best.

“...Mh. Alright then.”

The voice grates on his ears, ears that try to flick but are stopped by the soil packed around them. He groans in drowsy irritation, curls in on himself in an attempt to shield himself from it and from the world. It seems to work, the noises fading into nothing, and Étoiles feels his thoughts scatter as a faint scratching sound seeps through the earth and into his mind like white noise. Sleep pulls at him again, and he lets it.

He’s startled back into wakefulness by something pulling harshly, somewhere that feels a bit away but is still part of him. His eyes fly open in pained surprise because ow, ow, that’s my— “Come here, you lazy fuck!” That voice — high-pitched, that heavy accent he’s come to love, amusement and exasperation combined, Phil, his Phil, his GOAT, his brother in arms, his Death-touched angel.

Étoiles blinks, unseeing. Étoiles remembers. And with awareness comes something else, something that shimmers and calls his name in gentle whisper-echoes, as he feels himself being pulled up, and up, dirt parting to let him ascend back to the surface. Aah. Goodbye mama. Hello problems. “Get harvested, idiot!” Philza Minecraft grunts with effort somewhere above him, and the tug gets stronger, prompting a pained ow out of him as the ground crackles and breaks above him, and he feels air-sun-outside on his back as he’s forcefully pulled from the ground like the fresh crop he is. He flails a little bit, kicking off dirt and soil (it’s everywhere, in his hair and between his toes and a little in his mouth and nose, bleh!), then rolls onto his back with a groan, frowning up at the sky he knows is there, blue and clear, because it doesn’t smell like rain and the surface soil is dry and warm.

He’s back. And he sees nothing at all. Welp, better close his eyes again then. He feels a shadow fall on him, feels a sandaled foot nudge his side. “Helloooooo. Hello Phil,” he greets the other leaning hard on the deadpan because he knows it makes his friend laugh when he does that. It lands. “What, that’s it?” the elytrian caws, kneeling beside him and poking at his face, talons dulled to a gentle roundness. Étoiles wishes he didn’t trim them, but Phil is too nice, too careful, too eager to smooth himself down for others, for the eggs. Docile.

Étoiles despises it, but he keeps quiet because he knows Phil doesn’t like to talk about those things. “You get yourself killed by a fucking Code of all things,” Phil keeps going, “make everyone freak the fuck out because you won’t respawn like a normal fucking person, and that’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“Antoine knows. And I’m here now, so it’s okay.”

“Antoine barely logs on, you absolute dumbass. You’re lucky Lullah told me about the seed thing, because you would’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday.”

He opens his eyes, if only to shoot Phil a halfhearted glare. And then immediately forgets about it, blinks owlishly. Sits up to get closer to the other man. “Phil. Why are you stars?”

“What.”

He sees stars. (And not in the sex way, because he doesn't do that.) It’s not night, but there are stars in his vision, where pitch blackness used to be, and the constellation is Phil-shaped.

Philza is a cosmic cluster, a nebula shining bright in the darkness that has become his world. He can see nothing beyond him, not the plants surrounding him, not the long vine attached to his lower back Phil used to pull him out. He can tell it’s there, though, lightly thumping at the ground in agitation. “You, are stars. That’s how I see you now.”

“Wait. Can you, like, see again?” Phil asks, uncharacteristically soft. “I know it was getting… bad. And your eyes are like, all greyed out. Did the code stuff on your arm do that?” Étoiles sees a cluster of stars approaching his face — hand — and feels fingers brushing just under his right eye. He’s a bit startled by the contact, the area usually covered by his trust bandana (he needs it back, needs his stuff back, hopefully someone held onto it for him). Phil draws away, an apology ready from the way his constellation-body shifts, but Étoiles doesn’t let him. “I can’t,” he answers, tilting his head, ear flicking in focus — the stars that make up Phil sharpen, and he can almost make out the shape of the wings bound behind his back. “But I can See. I think.” He also wouldn’t mind Phil’s hand on his face again. It feels nice. Scratches at something long-buried, and denied.

Philza makes a confused sound. “Okay, I heard that capital S there. What’s that mean? Are you pulling a Daredevil?”

Étoiles grins, sharp-toothed and playful. “Oh, oh! He thinks I’m a superhero? He thinks I’m cool, Felipe Minecraft? Big win for me.” Phil rolls his eyes, which Étoiles can tell because the crow always makes that low warble when he does. “But no, it’s not like that. I still need my eyes to see like this, and I don’t hear or smell better than before.” Although his status as a hybrid means his baseline is still higher than the average person’s, but that’s irrelevant. “FF.”

“So no cool blindfold for you, ey?”

“No cool blindfold. I will just do a Pomme and drown myself later, to make up for how uncool I am.” (He cannot drown. No lungs. But he can pretend.)

He squints. There’s a little cluster, right there at the side of Phil’s head. He can connect the dots, identify the shape of the elytrian’s bucket hat, but there’s something else there too. “What’s that on your head, Phil? I can’t make it out well.”

“Oh— here,” the other takes his hand and guides it towards his hair, and Étoiles feels a familiar texture under his pads. He makes a noise of surprise. “That’s. Mine.”

“Do you want it back?” Phil hums, brushing at the large cucumber flower tucked in the band of his hat. “It bloomed this morning, on top of the plant you were growing under. Took it as a sign you were, uh, done cooking.” Étoiles snorts. Good guess. “But uh, I guess the plant was also you, cuz it’s at the end of your tail now. Dragging.” Ah. Yeah. He really ought to cut it. “Is it weird? That I’m wearing a piece of you? I don’t know what… fuckin’... cucumber etiquette is.”

“It’s not weird,” Étoiles says, because he doesn’t think it is. “You can keep it.” He kind of likes it. That Phil’s wearing a piece of him. It makes him, happy? “You know, that I am your weapon. Yes? So it makes sense, that you show it.”

“You’re my friend. Don’t call yourself a weapon, man.”

“Same thing for me.”

Phil’s response is wordless, a simple, noncommittal mmh. But Étoiles can hear the hidden fondness in it. He pushes a little further, crudely imitates that  one bird sound Philza makes when he’s happy. Whoops internally when Phil puffs out his feathers and trills out a yesyes in return. Héhé. “Yes yes, Philza? Fight me, right now?” he slips into his usual stance, just a bit offset by the lack of armor weighing him down. “1v1, no weapons, no armor? Fistfight, let’s go.”

Phil cackles, crow-like. “I am not fighting you right now, you little shit. You menace. What’s wrong with you?”

“Aww, Phil hates me,” the warrior whines. “He hates me. He won’t 1v1 me, he must hate me. Sad.”

“Oh my god, stop being a baby.”

“I was literally born five minutes ago. I am baby, and Felipe Minecraft hates me,” he sasses back, and Phil throws his arms towards the sky in exasperation. “Oh come on. I spent a week protecting your green ass! Making sure you got enough sun and water and shit, it was like doing egg tasks all over again. Antoine even talked me into fucking singing, pretty sure he was pranking me with that one by the way, and still you think I hate you?”

“Nice caulk, Phil.”

He can’t see it, but Étoiles knows Phil’s eyelid is twitching. “Mate. I got a faceful of ass pulling you out of here, you’re on thin fucking ice.”

The cucumber snorts. “Héhé, got mooned by the stars.” That was kinda funny. “You were pulling me by the tail, I do not know what you expected. You’re lucky I’m a plant, or there would have been full cock and balls there.”

“Bruh. I thought it would be connected to your… plant belly button, or whatever, like an umbilical cord.”

“It’s an ass button, GGs.”

“Jesus Christ, please don’t call it that. I didn’t even know you had a tail. You didn’t before.”

“That’s because I always cut it,” the warrior huffs, said tail lashing behind him from the restless energy that always accompanies a new body. Its leaves drag around the loose dirt in little swish-y sounds. “Give me a sword, Phil, it’s already annoying me.”

The crow peers down at the vine, then back at him. “I dunno, man. You look kinda fun with it.” Étoiles squints. He can’t quite make out Phil’s expression like this, all stars and nothing between them, but he can hear the hidden laughter in his voice. “...I will cut it with my teeth then.”

“Won’t that hurt more than with a blade?”

“It doesn’t hurt. Only the base. Like when you pulled on it.”

“Why not keep it? It’s a part of you.”

Because it speaks for me, he considers replying. Because it says and shows things that I don’t want people to see. Even now, it wags, because Phil is here and now brushing stray dirt out of his hair and it’s very nice. (Is he touch-starved? He might be. Pomme is gone, and he doesn’t trust people to touch him, other than with blunt force and sharp diamond blades.) But Étoiles hasn’t kept his tail since he was a child, still wide-eyed and showing his innermost self to the whole world without any shield. He feels weird. Exposed. And it’s okay with Phil, because Phil is Phil, but it’s not okay because they’re out in the open and anyone could come and see. He doesn’t like that. “Because people can grab it, and it gets stuck in things, and it’s annoying. I cut it, now.” He tugs at the appendage, bringing it up to his mouth. “Nope,” Phil snatches it away, and Étoiles hisses at him. “Calm down, dude. At least let’s do it cleanly.”

“Eeeeuugh. Okay.”

”Then we’re getting your stuff back from Antoine’s, good god. You’re still butt-naked and I won’t have you strut around like that.”

“He has my things? Comms, armor, my backpacks?”

“All of it, yeah,” the older man huffs, and Étoiles can hear the telltale sound of an item being summoned of an inventory. Enchanted axe, he parses, recognizing the ozone-y smell of the sharpness enchant and the sound of the air being sliced downward. He doesn’t feel anything when the vine is severed, frowns when he realises Phil left a good… fifty centimeters of it, still attached to his body. “Phil. You misclick? You aim like shit today?”

“You said it hurts near the base,” the elytrian huffs, finality lacing his every word. “Keep it or cut the rest later, your pick, but I’m not hurting you.”

Étoiles’ ear flicks in confusion, and so does his tail. It moves faster, easier now without the rest of the plant weighing it down. “...We fight each other all the time, that hurts more. I don’t care.”

Phil stays silent for a few seconds. Nebula-Phil shifts before him. “It’s. Different.”

Étoiles hums. Philza has the Tone™ again, the one that means he’s thinking of things that hurt. He thinks of clipped feathers, of matted down that he wishes he could run his fingers through and fix, fix, let me fix it, let me do this for you. But he says nothing. Maybe another time, when they’re both ready for that conversation. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Maybe I keep it this time. Maybe.”

He can hear Phil’s smile in the next word he speaks. “Attaboy.” And he tries to ignore the way his tail wags with renewed enthusiasm at that.

#qsmp #etoiles #philza #codebreakers #fanfic #q!étoiles #qetoiles #q!philza #qphilza #i have them on the brain like bad #ao3 tags GO #temporary character death #respawn mechanics #ambiguous relationships #q!étoiles and q!phil have a Thing going on #and i am unable to put a word on it #big up to someone i know for the inspo #blindness #self-esteem issues #this little cucumber is a little Fucked Up™ #but he tries his best!

[feelin-lo]

A Pirate's Prize...

A Bloody Parchment fic :)

@aesopsbaby @boiling-potato @sealedchasm

Take a lookie here :))

It's only short because I ran out of ideas really quickly, maybe I'll expand on it, maybe not...

Deep in the brig of an infamous ship, lives a creature so scary, so blood curdlingly petrifying, so bone chilling... they say it could kill you with a single glare, have you in a snare... keep you, have you... kill you.

"Honey~!" The pirate grinned, walking down the steps into the brig, where a tank of water was kept with his beloved inside.

The Pirate; Meztli, was absolutely mental, for not only keeping a creature as terrifying as this, but for loving it unconditionally.

"I brought you some brekkie." He beamed, helping his beloved out of the tank.

"and who made it, was it you, or was it Trickster?"

The creature teased, laying back in Meztli's chest.

The creature; Lo, was a Merman. Top half of a Human, bottom half of a Fish. His fishtail was beautiful, like a ruby... shiny too. His skin, pale as paper and delicate as glass... he had long brown hair, beautiful piercing blue eyes... gills on his neck and waist, red fins on his forearms and back.

Meztli brought some cooked fish to Lo's mouth. "You needn't baby me, Captain, I'm an independent Fish." He chuckled, nibbling at the fish. "It definitely tastes like Trickster's cooking."

"Bah! That girlie can't tell her right hand from a sea urchin." Meztli pouted. "I'm teasing, Darling." Lo reassured, taking off Meztli's hat. "You know the rule..." Meztli joked.

"rule?"

"Save a horse, Ride a cowboy... Save a cow, Milk the Milkman... Save a ship, Sail the Pirate."

"excuse me?"

"Nevermind..."

Lo let out a little chuckle, looking at the tank he was kept in, then up at the small bouts of light that spilled from above. "When can I leave the brig? It's cold and lonely down here..."

Meztli sighed, running his hands though his beloved's hair. "I'm not sure, Darling... I could keep you in a bathtub in my quarters but... I wouldn't want any of my crew barging in... I know what they're like when they see a precious jewel... but... you, my beautiful ruby, are mine. And mine alone... if anyone dares to touch you without my permission or even dare touch the same water as you..."

He leant down, whispering into Lo's ear.

"I'll remove every one of their limbs and feed it to the sharks below."

Lo shivered softly, not only from the coldness of the air, but because of what his beloved captain had to say... "You don't have to go through all that trouble... For me.."

"oh but I do, my beautiful guppy, I do. Because you're my precious gem, my ruby... the light of my life... and an amazing kisser."

Lo chuckled. "You didn't act like this when we first met... when we first met, I remember you staring as I was caught in your fishing net, scanning my body, your hands gliding across my scales... then, your nose bled, and you carried me here."

Meztli scoffed. "Hah! I have no recollection of the event. But then again, any man or woman would be foolish not to feel weak and vulnerable by your gaze... you're like a glass of wine... sweet and bitter, causing a burn at the back of my throat... you make me lose my mind... my words slur, my movements stagger... and just like Wine. I'm completely drunk... drunk on your love..."

Meztli pressed a kiss to the back of Lo's hand.. "my one and only..."

A soft blush crept into Lo's cheeks as Meztli spoke more and more, taking off his purple Captain's coat and placing it around Lo. "Purple is the colour of royalty..."

"oh? Do you think you're the pirate king now, Meztli, Darling?"

"maybe so... and you can rule beside me..."

Lo chuckled, placing a kiss to Meztli's cheeks, then nose, forehead... finally, mouth.

"I shouldn't get my hopes up... I'll wait here... for as long as it may take. You visit me everyday, feed me... love me... dance a sinful dance under the moonlight with me..."

Meztli listened before pressing a finger to Lo's Lips.

"I would die for you... I would kill for you."

He moved a hand to Lo's waist.

"and I would do so, without a second of hesitation. Because you're my Beloved. My love...

...

...

...

My. Lo."

#🩸bloody parchment 🪶 #oc #ocs #my ocs #not my oc #Lo ✨ #Meztli #they're so silly #husband material #Both of them #merman #pirates #Pirate x mer! #lo's fics

[plztumb1rhelpmegetoveranxiety]

Kitty au Eret has a giant tank for shark Foolish.

Foolish made the tank himself. Homeboy was made a cat at first , and when he decided to be a shark he made himself a big tank.

Eret just swims with him like how you swim with dolphins.

Foolish is very much a himbo. Both in and out of shark form. There's a shallow part of the tank where Eret can sit down and breathe, yet Foolish can rest on their lap like a big puppy would. He just stays there. Eret just pats him . Pat the shark!

Eret is very happy. So is Foolish. :)

I really hope Eret's finally confirming that sharks are in fact smooth /j

#This is so sweet 🥺🥺🥺 #I love them hanging out like that #especially with how it takes actual effort compared to everone else #Like they can't just chill together in like a living room like anyone who's with a kitty or anything else bc of how Follish needs the water #Hopefully there's a way to waterproof books or smth in this universe so Eret could chill casually in the shallow end #just chilling without focusing on Foolish or swimming #I imagine there's a brewing stand by the pool for water breathing potions #Do you think that the tank'd ever get more connected to the rest of the house? #(I'm assuming this tank is in a house of their's) #Like maybe making it so the tank continues under the hallways of the house? and the floor where it is is raplaced with glass #I don't think I'm explaining this very well but hopefully you get the picture qwq #No matter what Foolish gets many pats and treats 💖💖💖💖 #Shark Foolish is vvv much bigger than kitty Foolish #that only means more treats and attention #more to love #which both parties thoroughly enjoy #:] #maddymayhearts #Hearts my beloved /p #asks

[cuuno-moved]

hell yeah! hc time

- all revived people have white streaks due to the trauma involved in resurrection, if Jack had longer hair he would also have a white streak. if you look close enough he does have a pale patch on his head.

- everyone assumes fundy is a fox hybrid, but bc of death goddess kristen being his grandmother he’s actually a kitsune. he only has one tail during season one and two, but after coming back to the server after his one year break he has two tails. the older he gets, the more tails he will grow.

- foolish is part shark because he’s the god of storms as well as rebirth. he also looks like a golden zora bc legend of zelda my beloved

- wilbur wore contacts before he died bc war but goes back to wearing his round glasses after coming back to life

- tubbo’s eyes do the steven universe star thing when he’s excited but instead they turn into radiation symbols

- tommy has lichtenberg scars on his shoulder and down his torso. foolish has them on his hands and forearms

- ranboo’s cape has little alliums embroidered along the hem in remembrance of tommy. when tommy came back, he demanded to have something with alliums on so he could match. he has a leather pouch on his belt with a bunch of them embossed on

- during the events of sonic 06, time travel happens and the past is changed. by the end of the game, sonic and elise end up never meeting. since connor is their canonical son, he is a paradox. this is how he shows up in tftsmp, he’s disconnected from the timeline and just vibing

- pretty much everyone who was involved in either the 16th or doomsday has some form of hearing loss, and both callahan and michael are mute. sign language is the second most commonly used language on the smp

- when you call someone on their communicator, they have their own personalised ringtone. puffy’s is the wellerman. tommy’s is the able sisters theme, technoblade’s is the pigstep remix from the duel animatic. connor’s is stal. he used to annoy schlatt with it, and he still can’t bring himself to change it.

SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE YES

[queerchoicesblog]

Ghost of You (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele)

So this is my very first SC Titanic fanfic: I am excited to post it and well I suppose I should warn you that probably Zetta x Adele fictions will be rather long as this love story features themes that are very dear and meaningful to me, such as 1. well, obviously the Titanic story, 2. references to beginning of the century cinema (love very old and b&w movies), 3. sapphism and 4. femminism/suffragette movement. It’s basically everything I could have ever asked for. The Gentleman Jack fans out there might find a reference here...

So here I tried to imagine what brought Zetta to write that little note to Adele after basically disappearing. Loved that scene and I had to try and portray her turmoil, her missing Adele but also, as any historical lesbian (maybe not only historical), fearing the strings of society and their effect on their love and her beloved suffragette. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I quoted some pieces of dialogue from the original book

Word Count: 2555

Zetta x Adele Tag: @marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako @everlastingchoices @andrxrneda @aestheticsayeed @eleanorwaverrley @indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @lvcley @nazario-sayeed

________________________

Two rapid knocks on the door then:

“Are you there, doll? Can I come in?”

Richard’s voice abruptly brought Zetta’s back to reality, involuntarily making her jump in her seat.  She blinked twice as if wakingg from a dream and took a quick look around. She couldn’t recall how long she had been sitting at her vanity lost in her thoughts with a brush in her hand. She just couldn’t focus that day as she was haunted by memories of the past. But Richard didn’t have to know, mustn’t have to know. She put down the brush and quickly fixed her hair before adjusting her robe to limit the skin exposure to the minimum: after all, they weren’t married yet…and her heart didn’t belong to Mr. King. Only after that, she answered loud enough to be heard on the other side of the ebony door:

“Sure, darling”

She resumed her interrupted makeup session, pretending to be fully taken by that routine that didn’t bring her the usual joy anymore. She looked at herself in the mirror and put on a practiced smile: it would have been enough to fool her fiancé.

Richard entered her boudoir and theatrically opened his arms as a seasoned professional: he mentioned that he started as an actor before becoming a stellar director.

“My love, every time I see you I’m completely blinded by your beauty. You’re the brightest star in the sky, even brighter than Venus itself” he said moving closer and kneeling beside her chair.

“…And you’re gonna be the most radiant woman at the party tonight. The belle of the ball, la plus belle” he added, courtly taking her free hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

He looked up at her with a dashing smile.

“Trés charmant, Richard…but are you done with poetry?” she smirked, retrieving her hand and resuming her previous core.

“Ah, la belle dame sans merci!” Richard exclaimed before falling back to the floor holding a hand on his chest.

“Silly” Zetta laughed and she was soon joined by Richard who stood again and leaned on her table.

“I can’t help it around you, doll, apologies” he shrugged, flashing her another smile.

Zetta had to summon all her acting expertise not to cringe at “doll”. She hated it when every fiber of her being when Richard -or any other men- called her “doll”. Even her first director called her so, even her husband…doll, as if that was all she was to them: a beautiful toy, maybe a collectible but not truly a woman. Not truly Zetta.

Instead, she mirrored his smile and threw him a quick look before methodically applying some rouge on her cheek.

“So, what are you dying to say that can’t wait?”

“Seeing you isn’t a reasonable excuse?”

Richard was a charming man, without doubt. He wasn’t a bad man or so it seemed to her but she had been deceived by men who swore to only want the best for her that it was hardly possible for Zetta to fully trust any of them. And a man could have never won her heart.

As she flashed him just one of her enigmatic smile, he spoke again:

“Fine, you got me: I just wanted to see you and to remind you that our producers are expecting us at Rao’s for dinner in an hour. We should leave soon” he gave an apologetic smile and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Will we be there in time?”

“We will, I promise you” Zetta confirmed then made a show of shooing him away. “Now shoo, call Sabine and let me get dressed or else we will be late”

Richard raised his arms in surrender, laughing. Then he pressed a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I’ll get off of your hair, doll”

Zetta resumed her makeup as Richard moved towards the door. He was halfway out when

“Oh I almost forgot! I spoke to Alan yesterday and he loved the movie: the story of the two sisters reunited in the midst of chaos on the sinking ship is just perfect, so heart-warming-“

“Yes, it truly is heart-warming” Zetta commented, losing focus again.

“The story is real, right? You met at least one of them on board, didn’t you?”

Zetta’s voice lowered as memories started surfacing back.

“Yes, we were…rather close”

“If they survived, we should track them down and invite them at the movie: it would be great if they could talk to the press. Journalists love stories like this: I can see the headlines alrea-“

“We’ll see, Richard. Now please go call Sabine”

She tried to keep her voice from betraying her feelings, but she could feel a rush of anger surging. She would have never handed the Carrem sisters and such a private and tragic moment of their lives to those shameless sharks who go under the name of journalists. The subtle hint of heartbreak and they prey the unfortunate victims like vultures over a corpse: they wouldn’t stop until they had dissected those aching hearts, leaving them to bleed out. No, she would have done everything in her power to prevent this.

The story she wrote down when asked to bring the grim fate of the Titanic on the big screen was fiction: inspired by true facts but fiction. Zetta was smart enough to know that life and fiction are two separate things and that an edulcorated tale of those most tragic hours was all the world could take: the people of New York, who weren’t there that night, would have been overwhelmed by the real story.

Still, when she sat at her desk and started writing a draft of the script her mind immediately turned to…Adele.

She didn’t even notice Richard leaving the room as the silhouette of Miss Carrem clouded her thoughts. Finally alone, her face fell and she shut her eyes as if to prevent the memory from fading away.

Adele, most gracious, fearless Adele…

Her lips curled into a sad smile as she reminisced their first meeting. She was sitting in her suite smoking and listening to James making some pointless speech when the door opened and Teo stepped in followed by Adele. She had the beauty of a Greek goddess and the look of someone who was going through a lot. She clearly felt out of place among finely dressed first-class passengers in the lavish room but she kept her head high. Zetta remembered feeling the urge to know what troubled her but she put on her mask, the sardonic film star ever out of reach. And then…was it a brave move or just an insane one? Adele told her of her arrest, of prison. Everyone else would have hidden from her, a new employer and Zetta Serda…not Adele. She handed her everything she needed to destroy her life as if it was no big deal. Zetta was taken aback and searched her green eyes for any sign of mockery but find none: the stranger girl truly trusted her with her life. That’s when she realized how unique Miss Carrem was.

Adele found a way to her heart effortlessly as if she had the map from the very start. When she placed her hand over hers in the projection room, she startled Zetta: whenever she had made the fatal mistake to show her vulnerable side to anyone, they would have used it against her to make her feel weak or small…clearly in need of someone who would tell her what to do, to guide her. They would have refilled her glass with wine again and again instead of going for the simplest gesture: taking her hand into theirs and comfort her. Making her believe with that touch that everything would have been fine, and she was stronger than whatever life threw her.

For a moment, as Adele held her hand, she felt safe, pacified, something she had never experienced with any of her supposed lovers. She couldn’t even be mad at her secretary when she revealed her James’ plan and the true reason behind his bailing her out of jail. She was shocked, obviously but she also couldn’t believe that Adele, brave foolish Adele, had put her life into her hands again. “I’m perfectly aware of the risk I’m taking by revealing this to you but you deserve to know. I cannot keep this from you” she said, looking her right in the eye.

Those eyes…they took Zetta’s breath away whenever they ignited with the fire sparking inside her. She could have lost herself in their green depths when they gleamed with pride and mischief as she proposed a toast to the vote to women or whenever their eyes met. She got lost in them when their lips touched, and they grew dark with desire. How daring and foolish they had been in the Turkish baths…but she couldn’t bring herself to regret that moment of ecstasy when she felt free and truly loved, for once. She could still shiver remembering Adele’s touch, the way her lips traced down her body with reverence and adoration, the soft moans the tender girl in her arms suffocated hiding her face in the crook of her neck as she melted under her caresses. In those stolen embraces she knew happiness.

How happy she felt whenever Adele was around: just exchanging a brief look across the room would make her heart flutter.

Then other memories surged and Zetta felt tears welling her closed eyes. Her birthday night, that cursed birthday night…Adele and her sneaking away from the party to find a private spot on the deck. The wine, the cold breeze of the ocean, Adele’s silvery laughter at her tipsy enthusiasm, how she craved those sweet lips all night.

“If I’m honest, I don’t even want to reach shore, I don’t want to go back to the party…I just want to stay out here with you. Forever.”

Adele’s tender smile in agreement.

“Let’s just make a tent of this blanket – we can live off seal meat and rainwater”

Her tipsy proposal made the two of them laugh again.

“What about your acting career?” Adele inquired, a smile lingering on her face.

“We’ll make our own plays. Whaddya say?”

God, how those words sounded different now…how she would have given everything to have Adele there to cup her face and give her a slow, deep kiss. But Adele wasn’t by her side anymore…she lost sight of her when her agent and Richard dragged her and James away from the crowd at the New York pier.

She hadn’t written her ever since that day and she felt so impossibly guilty because of that: Adele must have thought she had forgotten about her after all her words of love on the ship. Maybe she felt used, maybe she hated her by now and cursed the memory of her. She would have reasons to hold a grudge to her…the truth was that happiness and love are hard to accept if you have never truly had them before and if they came from a woman loving another woman.

Zetta had tried to write her a thousand time but every time she had made an effort to put her feelings into words, her lines rang hollow. Yet the words that got stuck in her throat when Adele pulled her into a corner and confessed that no matter what happened that night she needed to tell that she loved her were clear in her mind.

The months spent parted from you are the saddest time of my life. I’m haunted by you, the ghost of you. You’re everywhere: even if I’m silent, not an hour passed where I haven’t thought of you. I tried not to, but whenever I closed my eyes, there you were. I love you and I can’t live without you, without your smile, your wit, your touch. I just can’t but how can I ask you to be with me in the dark? I can’t step back from this wedding and I don’t want you to be a secret mistress: that would squalid and offensive when you are the one I want to give all of me. To marry, if that was even a possibility for us so that I could spend every single day of my life with you, waking up with you by my side, taking care of you…making you happy. Your absence makes even breathing hard, not to mention smiling to strangers, “capitalist pigs” as you would say…I even try and talk like you do, you see? But I find myself wondering: will I make you happy if I have to hide our love from the world? Kiss you only behind closed doors? Let you see me marry a man? You’re a free spirit, my love, I don’t want to put you in a cage because our love, our pure love would be a scandal and a scandal would ruin everything I worked for since I was even younger than you. I don’t want you to spend your life as a ghost yet I find myself craving to see your face one more time as living without you is barely surviving but all the light has gone as I lost you.

Suddenly she felt someone placing their hands on her shoulders.

“Let me help you here, Madame”

She opened her eyes and saw Sabine, smiling sympathetically down at her. She tried and failed to mirror her smile as her mascara was now running down her cheeks.

Sabine helped her to her feet and took care of everything. Zetta let her washed up her face and helped her into her shiny evening dress: she felt like a child in the hands of a loving mother. When she was putting on her earrings, the final touch, Sabine handed her a small stack of envelopes.

“The invitations to the movie screening and party” she explained. “It’s October first, I would suggest to send them first thing tomorrow to ensure that everyone get the invitation within reasonable notice. It wasn’t easy to find all the addresses, but I did my best”

“I’m sure you did, Sabine. Thank you for taking care of it.” Zetta said as she checked the succession of familiar names of former passengers and famous colleagues. “I will sign them personally when we come back from the party”.

“Excellent” Sabine nodded.

Then as Zetta placed the stack on her desk, she presented her a single envelope.

“I hope you don’t mind if I requested a faster delivery for this one” she added before bowing her head curtly and leaving the room. “Have a nice evening, Madame”

Zetta read the name handwritten on the last envelope where a different stamp had been appointed.

‘Mademoiselle Adele Carrem’

A lump formed in her throat but she forced herself not to cry and just smile, mentally thanking Sabine: she had found her. Following nothing else but her instinct, Zetta picked out the invitation and signed it with her fountain pen. Then, as Richard called her name, she grabbed a slip of paper and wrote a brief note:

“Please come, my love. I must see you again. Yours, Zetta”.

She folded everything back into the envelope and finally left her room as a newfound hope kindled inside her.

#storyscape #titanic sc #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele

[gwenore]

The Librarian’s lizard. Crocodiles eat sharks.

Synoposis: With the mayor’s attempt at closing the town’s library everyone in town is surprised that Mr. Gold simply known as the Crocodile decides to take on the case pro bono. 

Written for @rumbelleorderinthecourt event. Smut of course. 

Belle was sitting in the chair on the side of the plaintiff, having to do her best to be perfectly still and look composed.

The Mayor had made a motion to shut down the library and any conventional means, had been met with a wall of silence. No one could think of a reason why the mayor and her office would want the only library in town to be shut down, as it was quite beloved by those that lived there.

But gathering signatures, showing that nothing was wrong in their very limited budget or anything had helped.

It looked like the library was doomed… unless they took legal action against the mayor’s office. Though that was a costly affair and Regina Mills could either stall the case until they had no choice but to concede or her team of lawyers, the worst being Mr. Alan Spencer to crush what ever public attorney they could come up with.

It came therefore as a great shock to anyone in town that Mr. Gold himself, who was a lawyer, though rarely took on cases as he hardly needed to do so with his wealth, had said he would not only take on the case, but do so pro bono.

This was hardly expected and people spoke of mayor Regina Mills going white with rage when it became known. Surely Mr. Gold did not do this out of the kindness of his heart… no one in town were foolish enough to believe that.

So it must have been to strike a blow against the mayor. Which… it had the town in quite a murmur. Never before had the two most powerful people in town so openly clashed.

Victory may have been secured for the mayor, but with the crocodile entering the ring… everything changed.

Mrs. Lucas who was running the inn along with the diner known as Granny’s remarked:

“Well… seems the crocodile is going to have sharks for dinner.”

While people were happy that the library was having a chance to remain open, most pitied the poor innocent librarian Belle French being put in such a debt with the vicious crocodile. She had always spent a lot of time with him preparing the case and that could not have been easy.

None in the town of Storybrooke knew the truth. None of them could even imagine.

Belle had never wanted to use her relationship with Mr. Gold for her benefit… she had never liked to ask for help.

But he had offered when it became known… almost pleading for her to allow him to do this for her. She was uncertain still… but… she did not wish to loose the library… it meant so much for her…

It was also rather… exciting… to have him wish to do such things for her.

Now, being in the court she saw another side of him. Normally he was such a submissive, yet caring. She had seen him adoring her, looking up at her while he was on his knees… but seeing this side of him…

It made her feel so painfully aroused to see this side of him.

Belle was well aware of the reputation he has… the dangerous man that everyone said he was. She had also been immensely intimidated by him… it was what had made her desire him.

Now she saw him standing on the court floor and she now saw him not as her lizard, but as the vicious crocodile that everyone spoke of him as.

She stared in utter fascination as he with his words and brilliant cunning ripped apart the defense and leaving both Mr. Alan Spencer and Regina Mills unable to respond, constantly being forced to be on the defensive with the crocodile smelling blood in the water.

Belle was left sitting in pure amazement of this man and not to mention so aroused. She wanted nothing more to close the distance between them and grab him by his tie and stroke her fingers through his hair as she pressed her lips upon his, showing everyone the control that he had allowed her to have over him. She had pulled him by that tie and called him the most humiliating names.

To have everyone know how she could bring this man to his knees and he would look up at her with the outmost adoration.

Simply sitting on the chair, being buttoned up and having a neutral look on her face. But it was hard.

Belle hardly heard what was being said, her eyes simply following her lizard being so vicious. She adored it.

Because of this it came as a surprise to her when the trial came to an end and the judge announced that he would take time to deliberate over this case. Mr. Gold cast a glance over at Regina and grinned towards her, showing her a sharp vicious smile, before he moved towards Belle where she sat.

“I do not expect the decision to take long… we can wait in my office above the courtroom,” he whispered from a low voice. Belle looked up at him giving him a short not. The rest of the people were milling out, Ariel waiting for her friend to follow her. Belle walked up to her.

“Um… me and Mr. Gold is going to prepare for the result of the trial…” Belle explained with a low tone. Ariel nervously fidgeting her fingers ever so slightly.

“Are you… are you sure? I can come you know… you have been spending a lot of time with Mr. Gold lately…” she murmured nervously. Belle simply smiled and shook her head.

“I have told you… I do not fear Mr. Gold. You go meet up with Eric, have a coffee or something,” Belle assured her friend. The last thing she wanted was someone to be in the room when she was with Mr. Gold in his office.

“You are about the only one that doesn’t…” Ariel sighed.

“Well… he cannot be all bad. He did give us the biggest chance of saving the library after all,” Belle smiled, though it always made her sad how most feared him. Thinking of him being this cruel and ruthless man. True… it was a part of what had attracted her to him… and he delighted in that fear.

But… she had seen the caring side of him. How kind he could be.

She had to assure her friend several times before she finally walked away, the courtroom by now mostly empty as she heard someone walking up behind her. Looking over her shoulder she saw Mr. Gold standing there.

“Mr. Gold,” she nodded her head towards him.

“Miss French,” he returned her gesture, still wearing that vicious crocodile grin, clearly excited by the blood still in the water. “Shall we?”

She simply nodded. Both of them were well aware of the couple of them left, but… he did not expect for any of them to really understand what was going to happen between them.

  Belle sat herself in the little couch on his office as he slowly moved closer and handed her a glass of whiskey.

“So… I must admit… it was fun to see you today,” she mused with a smile upon her lips.

“Oh?” Mr. Gold said as he sat himself next to her, sipping his own glass gently. Belle softly moved closer, reaching out her hand and started to caress his chest ever so gently, her fingers then playfully started to unbutton it.

A low rumble came from between his lips as he moved closer, but before he was able to kiss her she grabbed his hair keeping him from kissing her.

“Yes… to finally get to see you as the feared crocodile,” she mused, brushing her soft lips ever so gently towards his lips, but not letting him kiss her, keeping a firm control on him with the grip that she had upon his hair.

Mr. Gold let his eyes close ever so slightly having to remember to put his glass upon the table as she having long since put hers away and started to climb over him, putting her legs on either side of him.

“But you and me both know the truth don’t we?” she mused as she slowly started to move her hips while looking at him.

A low gasp was coming from his lips. He had been excited all the while he had been in court. He would constantly glance over his shoulder to see her blue eyes looking at him. It made him far more aggressive than he would normally have been. In a normal case he would play it cold and passive… to have the opposition to give him enough rope to hang them with.

But this day… it had been different.

Her watching him… it had made him want to prove himself to her. To win some sort of adoration.

It was also that he could smell her… hear her breathing.

While he had always delighted in causing the mayor grief and he despised Alan Spencer more than words could say… but it had been her that had driven him to such aggression.

“Yes… you are mine are you not?” Belle asked as she started to move her body against him, pressing her breast against his chest as his hands started to move down her sides.

“Always…” he started to slip his skilled fingers under her shirt to feel her skin. Normally she would have reprimanded him for touching her before her giving him the permission. She had been forced to wait for such a long while and was now impatient for him.

“How much time… how much time do we have…?” she panted excitedly in his ear as she was kissed upon his lips, feeling his tongue brush against her own.

“Depends… depends on how long it takes the judge…” he murmured as his hand caressed her thigh, slipping his hand under her tight pencil skirt.

“You know… we can be caught…” she whispered softly in his ears, while her own hands were starting to open his pants.

“I want you… I want you so much,” his voice was now simply a rough hiss, having to force forth his words through the moan caught in his throat.

“Mm… I guess… my pet lizard acting like such a vicious crocodile again… I guess it is only proper for you to submit just so you don’t get any ideas of acting like that towards me,” she sat herself up, her long brown locks flowing over her shoulder as she bit her lip.

“Of course not… but I will rip apart everyone that would move to hurt you… anyone you wish me too,” he murmured softly as his hands wrapped around her panties, starting to pull them down. Belle teasingly ran her finger across his lips.

“Hm… a devoted little lizard, with such a big bite,” Belle said as she freed his penis from the confines on his pants stroking her fingers along the length as she had to steady herself with her other hand on the side armrest of the small couch where he leaned his head.

She tried her best not to let out a desperate moan as she felt those skilled fingers enter her, reminding her on how wet she had become over the time she had been forced to remain sitting simply looking at him and wanting him.

It was hard to remain collected and cool when all she wanted was to scream out her want of him.

Still he continued to tease her, moving his fingers, his dark eyes continuing to look up at her, enjoying how desperate she had become.

He loved seeing her in control… to order him around and tease him with her beautiful voice… but… it was certainly something about seeing her like this as well… having lost that composure she tried to have with him.

“Remember the rules…” he murmured as he continued to watch her face and how much desire she had in her eyes.

“Ah!” her sharp moan filled his office as he moved his hand in a certain way, knowing her body well now as they had been doing this for a while now.

“The rules you yourself have imposed,” he reminded her with a teasing tone in his voice. He adored her rules… with the exception for her not allowing him to do things for her. This was the first time that she had put herself in his debt and he had to plead for her to allow this to save her precious library.

“Take me…” she pleaded with him.

He was not late to do as she wished, himself having for a long while being driven to the edge of desire, simply wanting her more than words could describe. She was so beautiful and he loved nothing more than being in her service in every way possible.

Grabbing her by the hips he trust inside her, not caring that his very expensive suit most certainly was going to become stained. All he wanted was her.

Belle was feeling her sight flicker with the pleasure that she was feeling.

Feeling him inside her made her hips roll with pleasure as he moved along with her, him arching his back in order to make her pleasure near unbearable by the sound of her lustful moans.

Anyone could enter that door.

He did not care…

By the heavens above and the fires below he did not care.

Perhaps he should have asked her to be silent… it would be the smart thing to do, but he simply wanted to hear her moan louder… to loose control with the pleasure that he gave her.

With a final loud gasp of pleasure she felt him cum within her as pleasure filled every part of her body… it felt almost like every nerve in her body was alive with indescribable and immeasurable power. Like a memory she had long since forgotten.

Unable to move of him just then she simply slumped down with a pleased smile on her lips as she looked over at him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Mmm…. Guess shark-eating crocodiles are fun to play with too…” she murmured in her haze of pleasure. He chuckle.

“Well… this old lizard aren’t all that bad is he?” he questioned. She simply giggled as she reached up to pet his hair.

“The old lizard does have some… talents,” she murmured back, so exhausted from what she felt that she could just about fall asleep on top of him.

“Thank you… for doing this for me…” she then admitted.

“Not that you need to thank me for…” she stopped him by placing her finger on his lip.

“Not that… the trial. For saving my library… I am so grateful to you for doing that,” her blue eyes gazed into his eyes.

“We haven’t won yet,” he reminded her.

“You practically ripped them apart… I have never seen the mayor lost for words before. She looked like she was about to explode,” Belle giggled.

“That part was rather fun…” he grinned as he ran his hand through her hair, her leaning against his hand. A thought then entered his mind… a desire he had since their relationship began. One which would have made him hard had he not just came. Continuing to stroke her shoulders and neck, listening to her pleased sounds.

“So… if we win Mistress… may I come with a request for my… services?” he whispered in her ear. Belle turned her head, raising her eyebrow.

“This was the reason why I don’t allow you to give me things… it is the way sneaky lizards like you get their way,” she caressed the side of his face. He simply blinked his eyes.

“Please… just this once…” he whispered softly. Belle could see the lust in his eyes and how much he desired it. She then gave a nod.

“Sure lizard… if we win,” she then said as she watched that sharp grin came upon his lips.

However before she could ask him just what his request would be, the chime of his phone filled his lawyer’s office and he reached out and flipped it open.

“The judge has reached his decision.”

#rumbelleorderinthecourt #the librarian's lizard #rumbelle smut #rumbelle fic

[carmineclock]

> Once upon like a lifetime ago

Scratch 11/11/2018

And so a hush descends upon the city. A shared humbling sending all the dogs - and cats, back home to lick their wounds. You should feel glad for the quiet, it might mean you can finally get some sleep. But despite the wave of temporary peace, you feel unsettled. Theres something in the air. The smell of change, and you dont like it. Its partially your fault, of course. You should have crushed this particular seed of hate a long time ago. At first it seemed like the playings at a relationship, so you'd written it off. But things have progressed far beyond what you expected. How petty do you have to be to hold a grudge for so long. Ahem. Anyway, you have been preparing for the night with your favorite bow tie. The whole Nepeta, Fin, Trace 'thing' has been so volatile you'd really not wanted to go near it with a ten foot pole. As long as they did as their job. But now. You're pissed. A message was sent out to the three regarding Nepeta, inviting them into your office for a discussion. Despite your earlier invitations, this was more like a summons. So you set about preparing the tea, a glass for each of them, three chairs set meticulously in front of your desk for a nice friendly conversation. As an afterthought, you leave the door ajar, a little test to set the mood. That done, you wait.

Trace 11/11/2018

The summon was to be expected. Yet, you really hoped it would be long in coming. But no such luck. Well, fortunately a wheelchair seems to exist. That makes things much easier, even if the stairs are still... a challenge. But you all manage somehow and eventually you get Nepeta down to Scratch's office, where you just quietly push her inside.

Nepeta 11/11/2018

You had been expecting it too, yes. Or to put it more accurately: dreading it. Of course Scratch would eventually talk to you personally about this, you are not stupid. You are aware you only got off the hook so easily last time because of Snowman. Seems that you luck is running out. You are visibly nervous and uncomfortable on the way to his office, seeking out the hand of one your sharks at all times. But eventually you do reach the office and you are not foolish enough to face Scratch while holding hands like a silly little girls. You gulp and try to steel yourself for what's to come. Not like you have much of a choice.

Fin 11/11/2018

The first thing in your head is “i shouldn’t be here” and you really shouldn’t , for once you did nothing wrong but you are sort of worried about Nepeta and Trace because of course he will be worried about her so it’s a chain of people being worried for each other. ”It’s going to be fine, he will probably bark to you for the Droog shit, demand you to stop and be done with it” you shrug trying to diminish the importance of whatever will happen behind those doors. “I already got a bottle of wine waiting for us in the room after this if shit goes bad” You sigh loudly before stepping into the office.

Scratch 11/11/2018

You are sitting at your desk as they walk in, doing your best to look as calm and welcoming as possible. Tonight isnt just about punishment, its about improvement. Kicking someone while they're down rarely motivates, its about reshaping. Its what you'd hoped would happen under Snowman's tutelage. Not to say she did poorly, of course. She did her best. This is solely in the hands of the young troll, the potential she has that hopefully hasnt been thrown away. "Please, sit. You may move aside the chairs." For Nepetas wheelchair. As amusing a spectacle it would be to see Trace lift her and put her into the chair, or for Fin to try, better to just leave well enough alone. "I'm sure you know why you're here. Lets try not to draw this out with unnecessary drama, if it can be helped.  Who would like to start."

Trace 11/11/2018

As soon as he gives permission, you go to work and move some of the chairs aside so you can push Nepeta inbetween them. "Start with what exactly?" you ask as you take a seat yourself.  "How Droog can't leave his dirty fingers off her? First he kidnaps her for petty reasons, which - mind you - are mostly me, then back at the festival he can't help provoke her until someone finally makes him shut up, and not this." You gesture vaguely at Nepeta and the wheelchair. "A vicious backstabbing in a moment of mutual hardship and asssistance. He had a chance to end this and very much refused." Yeah, Nepeta can definitely speak for herself, but you know she's just as anxious about this as you, if not more. Plus, if Doc gets mad at anyone for talking back, you'd rather that one be yourself. "I know you're trying to tell us this needs to stop, but the thing is she never started any of this. So the question should rather be how you intend to keep this sadistic bastard away from us." Despite your words, your voice is fairly calm. Not much need to fake there, either, since the events have left you fairly tired and exhausted.

Nepeta 11/11/2018

It's a good thing that Trace is talking. You are not sure if you could, words were never your biggest talent. Where he has his way with them you usually prefer action... Which is exactly why you are here isn't it? You almost want to stop him, you raise your hand and open your mouth even, but nothing comes out. What do you even have to say? You just want this meeting to be over. "I'm...I'm sorry for all the trouble I have caused, Sir." It's not much. Your voice is far too quiet to really belong to you. You feel like a kid facing their mad parent, and in a way you are. Trace might be able to talk to Scratch like this but you? You are terrified of him.  And you know did wrong.

Fin 11/11/2018

You take a seat and cross your arms over your chest, your entire body is in a position of bitch i will fight everything you say so you rather leave the talk to Trace, he is the one with the big words in this relationship. “Yeah because knowing that leech he won’t stop sucking until she’s dead” you add. “and it’s not fair we have to stand here and watch.”

Scratch 11/11/2018

You listen quietly as each takes their turn to speak, studying them as you sip your tea. Always so defensive right away. You havent accused them of anything yet. "To start off with, check your tone, Three." You shoot him an icy look. " I havent told you anything yet. In fact I would say I've been almost lenient in regards to this quarrel you have. All three of you. I've stayed well and truly out of the way because it was absolutely going to end up a mess. And here we are. Let me ask. Is there a good reason to kidnap? You cant justify amoral things based on your own code of ethics and expect others to adhere to them. So thats how it started. Nepeta was made his victim and you blamed yourself so you got involved. I assume Five was made to be involved just for being connected to her. The question isnt, actually, how am I going to keep him away. Because the answer to it is too simple. I cant. I may be  a man of many talents, but Diamonds is outside my realm of influence. The question, similarly, is not what do I now do with a troublemakers and their grudges. The question that needs to be asked is actually, why did it ever get this far. Ah, see, now theres a far more interesting answer, dont you think?"

Trace 11/11/2018

"Why don't we invite him over so he can tell you? I thought I already explained as much. He's not letting off despite several warnings, and unfortunately the Crew's second-in-command isn't killed that easily, so here we are." You give Fin. Such. A look. What happened of acting like we're not out for blood. You sigh. "Fin is right. This isn't fair."

November 12, 2018

Nepeta 11/12/2018

It's funny, you aren't usually timid by any stretch of the imagination. But right now? Facing Scratch? You are not the fierce predator you want to be. You are reduced to nothing but a scared kitten under his cold stare. The fact that you are vulnerable physically and mentally right doesn't help one bit of course. Fin and Trace are so much louder than you but you do mumble an answer. "I..I lost my temper last time, sir. It won't happen again." The fact that you are apologizing despite the fact that you were already harshly punished by the loss of your legs doesn't even occur to you. You are just scared to get kicked out or worse.

Fin 11/12/2018

Trace’s look reminds of you the plan yourself set for the two. Damn. Well you can’t take those words back now, at least try to act like it’s not a big deal that you really think ain’t fair but you won’t do anything about it, so you look back at him and shrug then lean back on your table and nod at Nepeta's words. You really don't have much to add.

Scratch 11/12/2018

"I forget when the world was ever fair. I didnt realize we dealt in justice and fairness. Is it fair that a perfectly good warrior wastes her formative years on hate when she is brimming with potential? Is it fair that Diamonds started it and now  wont finish it, preferring to play with the shattered pieces of what remains?" The sentence ends sharply,with more heat than you wanted. You sense yourself getting worked up and ease it back a bit. "No, its not. And as much as it hurts, life goes on." You're speaking more directly to Nepeta now, though you're still facing Trace. "You've made your cases. I want a word alone with Ms. Leijon."

Trace 11/12/2018

You grimace some at his response. While it is nice and somewhat rare to hear a compliment like that from him, especially for your beloved girlfriend, it's.. kinda bittersweet, considering the situation. There's more things you want to say, more questions you got for him, especially about what options there are for her now. What plans he got, if any. But you realize these are things you may be able to ask either of them afterwards, so you nod quietly and raise from your seat. You give Nepeta a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder in passing, then leave the room, where you will wait right next to the door.

Nepeta 11/12/2018

Was that...A compliment? You certainly did not expect that at all. Scolding, a punishment, getting thrown on the streets, sure, but a compliment? You don't exactly know what to make of it. You gulp when he asks Fin and Trace to leave. You really don't want to be alone with Scratch, but it's not like you have a choices. Trace's gestures is appreciated but can't exactly ease the anxiety you are dealing with now.

Fin 11/12/2018

Really was that all?. This makes you even more worried for whatever he gotta tell her in private, was he just trying not to make it look like a big deal and will lash out to her when you two are gone or are you just being dramatic as always. You sigh and get up  but before you go you give a quick smooch to Nepeta’s cheek and a pat in the head then leave the room to join Trace outside. Time for the bouncy leg show as you wait.

Scratch 11/13/2018

The prey have gone, leaving only the preditors remaining. So you'd like to think, anyway. Once youre alone, the door closing sharply behind them, you stand. A slow movement, non aggresssive. Despite your distaste for cats, you know their behaviors. You move around your desk and take a seat in a vacated chair across from her. Eye level, face to face. "May I be frank, Ms. Leijon. I dont want this to come off as just another scolding. You've exceeded all expectations, and with the right guidence you could become something fierce. Thats what I wanted for you when Madam Snowman took you under her wing. And it makes me wonder why someone like you would want to waste so much energy on a grudge. Its clear you realize what you're doing is wrong, so why cant you move on. How much more are you going to let this revenge war take from you?" Its a genuine question. You hope your words come across as somewhat genuine. How you must look in her eyes to make her cower so.

Nepeta 11/13/2018

You don't think you've ever gotten this close to Scratch. It's a weird feeling, to have his attention all on you. Despite being a cat you feel more like a mouse. Trapped. At the mercy of a far bigger predator. It's funny, physically there's no question that you are stronger than him, perhaps even in your current state. Mentally though? And that's the kind of game you are playing here. With Scratch it always is, isn't it? You don't quite trust his words. You are used to far harsher words, not just from him. But to be told you have potential? That you are useful? You want to believe that's sincere. In a way you have to. It's hard to look him in the eyes though. "I know... I know this can't go on. I know this can't keep on escalating or it will destroy us..Me and Fin and Trace. I know that." You do. You had plenty of time to think about it in the past days. "But he wronged me. He hurt me, he used me to hurt them. And the he mocked me for my anger. Tried to play it off as some cute little game we play, tried to push me into some weird black situation." It's hard to hide your anger when you talk about him. Your face twists into and ugly scowl and your anxiety is almost forgotten. "I know it was wrong. I just wanted.. No I needed to show him that I'm not just his toy. I'm not going to play his shitty games anymore. I'm not going to just let him get away with it. I can't do that. I can't let him."

Scratch 11/13/2018

You listen in silence until she finishes. So much pain in her voice for someone so young. Diamonds is as much to blame as Nepeta is, of course. Such a waste of time and effort on a silly game. "I know. He wronged you, and the humiliation you felt being helpless at his hands was something you never want to feel again. And you tried to show him, and maybe sometimes you did, but he eggs you on. And you eat up his every words because your hate is blinding you. Of course you hate him. But let that push you to be better. Smarter. Look at your enemy and study their weaknesses. Look at your own limitations and strengths openly. Are you as strong as Diamonds now? No. But one day could you be?" You sit back in your chair, relaxed posture. Let her have a think on that. "As far as Droog is concerned, you are his toy. Because every little provokation gets a response. Something to stir the pot with. Is it fair that your honest emotion is used against you? No. But we learn. We grow. Every time you let that anger get the better of you,you give Droog everything he wants."

Nepeta 11/13/2018

That...all actually makes perfect sense. It's something to think about indeed. It's obvious you are doing just that by the way you  knit your brows and chew on your lips. "You are right Sir. And I've been trying. I've been trying so damn hard to ignore him. Even when I met him at the festival, I tried to keep it low but then...He just had to show off his damn trophies.  And I just lost it. I just..." You make a frustrated sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. "I want him dead. I want to be the one who ends him. That's my end goal, not...Not what has been happening lately. I know it's not the time to kill him yet. That's why I didn't, even when I could have. " You sigh. "I know I have to work on this. Channel my anger into something more useful. For myself, for them.  It's been... It's been hard."

Scratch 11/13/2018

You're getting there. Slowly, you're unraveling this complicated web of emotion and hate, and laying it before you in neat, workable strands. Its been a while since you deigned to work one on one with someone, after the whole Itchy thing you'd been working on for years went up in smoke. It was always going to be volatile at best. "I do understand, you know. How hard it is. Learning to adapt in any environment can be difficult, but trying to adjust yourself in the midst of those two acting like you're infallable and that nothing is wrong. Getting contrasting validation  for emotions you think you have no control over. And you're right. Nepeta, you cant control your emotions." Its a lesson you try to teach all your children. Not that she has suddenly joined those ranks, of course, but its worth her knowing. "You cant control your emotions, that is why they are emotions. They happen naturally, without warning or apology. You cant ignore Droog because to do so is to tell yourself that your emotions arent there, and we must never do that. We have to take agency over what we can control, which is our reaction to our emotions. Be honest with yourself. Accept that these emotions are there, and that you know theyre strong, and that they hurt, but that you can move forward even with the pain. Tell your heart that your brain hears and understands whats its going through."

You put a hand to your chest, where your heart would be, and sigh quietly. You cant bear to see youth wasted, thats the whole reason for this in the first place. Its why you take in kids and reshape them. They end up lost, otherwise. Like Nepeta. Hopefully its not too late for her. "Learn to control your reactions to your emotions, while still accepting theyre there and so powerful. Its okay to get angry, but if you let the anger consume you, you lose yourself. It becomes all you are, all you ever will be,  and I speak personally when I say that is not something I want to happen. More importantly, though, nothing will stick it to Droog more than seeing his 'little toy' stay cool under his pressures for an explosion."

Nepeta 11/13/2018

He just has to keep making sense doesn't he? You listen to everything he says, the feeling of guilt clearly written on your face. He's right and you know it. You feel ashamed that you have to be told all of this but he is right. It takes a you a moment to reply. "I will... I will work on it, sir. " You don't quite want to admit out loud to Scratch that you think he is right abut Fin and Trace's role in this too. It's true, you have been fueling each others rage instead of calming each other down. That's not what Moirails are supposed to do and it just now starts to dawn on you. "I can't let Droog ruin us like that, I know that. He doesn't deserve that privilege. And in time... We will get our revenge. Good things come those who wait yes? " You hope that is what he wants to hear. Both because you suddenly feel like you care much more about his opinion and because you want to avoid possible punishment. You won't ever not want Droog dead but you know the Felt are going to be the winning team in this war. You have to believe that after all. The alternative isn't something you even want to spend a thought on.

Scratch 11/13/2018

She has the right idea, anyway. All of this emotional nonsense only matters if the person involved is willing to put in the effort to change. Its not enough to just know what you have to do, its having the strength and willpower go through with it. No matter how difficult. Now if you were her teacher...well, it depends on the pupil as well. Some just refuse to be taught. "And while we're waiting, we can plan. I know what you must think of me, Ms. Leijon. I dont make myself very easy to like, and I apologize if my men gave you the wrong idea about me. I am here to support the Felt, which you are very much a part of. I want you to be the best you can be, and I know how to help you become that. If you'll allow me, I can start you down the path that will lead to your future. And if you decide that future holds a Diamonds-based revenge, then so be it." You put up a hand at the end of your sentence, a little sharply, but mostly for effect. You want her to take her time with this one. "Don't give me your answer now. Consider everything I've said. Consider how you are right now, and what you want to be in the future. If you cant picture it, ask yourself why. Take the next few days to really think about my proposition. I may not be able to offer you everything you want, but I can give you anything you need. If you dont want my help, you have to find a way to show me you're serious about becoming a better version of yourself."

This is the turning point. You've set the line out after successfully detangling the scenario. At this point you're almost more mad at Trace and Fin for their roles in this. A girl is traumatized by a kidnapping to the point she has to spend her life on payback to cope with the pain and fear she felt, and these two idiots are sitting there encouraging her instead of trying to calm her rage. "Until you have an answer, you're temporarily shelved. You may continue to live in the mansion because my philosophy is to generally take pity on the differently abled,plus you match the carpets, but I wont have you going out into the field where your actions represent and threaten my entire business. I will not continue waste any more medical equipment or personnel, or time on this. No flashy punishments, just a cut off. I'd say your own actions have punished you far more than I ever could. And if you do manage to find a way to fix whats been done, consider it a gift not to be wasted."

Nepeta 11/13/2018

You open your mouth to protest the whole shelving thing but...You can't really protest that at all can you? He's right about everything. You are useless right now in any event, so it's not even a big difference. But your need to be useful is just so damn high it barely slips anyways. You swallow the protests down and answer. "Yes, sir. I have...I have a lot to think about." Mostly about what you think of Scratch and your relationship with Fin and Trace. You never expected to get out of this talk with some sort of? Respect? For Scratch budding in your mind. Or that you would begin to question how stable your pale relationship is. It really is quite a lot to process.

Scratch 11/13/2018

Good. You hope she will think about it, and not let the opinions of those around her sway her choices. This all could have gone far worse, so you're glad for that. Maybe she'll listen. Maybe she wont. But the offer has been handed across the table, nothing left to do but wait. "Yes, you do. Now, as far as those two are concerned, you may tell them as little or as much as you wish to. Just make sure whatever you bring to me as your answer is because of your choices, not theirs." That said, you pat her twice on the head, smile, and stand. Back around the desk you go, taking your seat for the continuation of the trial. "Alright, gentleman, you can come back in." You call to your door, knowing full well that theyve been standing outside the entire time. With ears pressed to the wall, no doubt.

Trace 11/13/2018

You didn't listen in, at least not on purpose, and they've talked fairly quiet most of the time (which is as much unsettling as it is relieving). But you trust Nepeta to tell you all that is important. (Though, you also know well Scratch can play with someone's mind and you worry about all the subtle things he may try put into her head.) Anyway, you give Fin a nod and open the door again and walk up to right behind Nepeta, eyes on Doc. "Anything else?"

November 14, 2018

Fin 11/14/2018

You would usually be the kind to even bring the glass to not miss a word but not right now. You figured that Nepeta would bitch all about it later and the sound of your bouncy leg on the floor was enough to keep you entertained for the time beings. You go in and stand next to Nepeta hand on her shoulder.  Somehow it feels strange that the air is not filled with either fear or anger or any of the sort. Makes you regret not to have listened with more attention.

Scratch 11/14/2018

"Nepeta has been shelved. Until such a time as previously discussed between us, she will not partake in any field work. Along with that, until then, I am barring her from Felt resources in regards to any future problems with Droog or otherwise. And let me just say this plainly, as I'm sure you and I will be speaking privately soon, Trace. Shame on you. Shame on both of you. Choosing to care about your own emotions over whats best for you partner. And if you didnt know, or chose not to realize, then you're idiots. Dissmissed, all of you."

#logs #posts this here because I noticed I don't have this yet