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jayden-okayden · 1 year

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Arthur, Charles, John, Javier, and Kieran with “A reader that loves animals”- SFW

I thought the idea of a few of the boys with a reader who’s good with animals was real cute, so here we are :) Feel free to request a prompt or drabble in the comments (or in dm’s if you wish to remain anonymous!)

CONTINUES UNDER THE CUT

ARTHUR

-It’s Arthur. What do you expect? He’s instantly smitten.

-What seals the deal though, is when Hosea is looking around camp for you, and no one seems to know where you went.

-Naturally he steps in, offering to go out and find you.

-It only takes him about three minutes.

-As he was riding out of camp, he spots a group of five or six horses crowded around someone in a field.

-Arthur hitches his steed on a tree, approaching you and the small herd.

-Once in earshot, he hears you humming, and is close enough to see you brushing the horses.

-My god, there’s even one with a braided mane.

-Arthur has to resist getting down on one knee then and there.

-You realize him standing there and wave him over. He walks to you, and you smile brightly, handing a few peppermints to him for the horses.

-Arthur nearly falls to the ground as one particularly hungry mare shoved him to reach the sweets.

-The outlaw would’ve been embarrassed if your laugh wasn’t the most captivating thing he’d ever heard.

CHARLES

-As if he didn’t already think you were the most lovely person in the world.

-His heart nearly burst out of his chest when he walked past your tent and saw you cradling an injured rabbit kit.

-You kept the small animal, and Charles was almost always keeping an eye out for Micah when you would let it outside to explore.

-As of yet, the man hadn’t done anything, but Charles has heard him mumbling to Bill about “Why would they even keep it,” or “The only thing a rabbit is useful for is to make food with.”

-That being said, maybe the reason he hasn’t acted is because Charles would glare menacingly at him whenever he shared his thoughts on the situation.

-On the other side, Charles admires that you’re not afraid to go hunting with him.

-He’s practically enamored with you whenever he sees you skillfully removing the meat from a recent kill, making sure to take every usable part of the animal.

-All in all, there have been too many times to count where Charles has caught himself chuckling or smiling while you take care of the animals.

JOHN

-He’s not as much of an animal guy as the other two, but he would be lying if he said seeing you cuddling with his sons dog wasn’t the most endearing thing to him.

-Often times he finds himself staring at you, infatuated, when he catches you slipping the animal dinner scraps when you think no one is looking.

-Honestly, he also finds himself feeling slightly envious whenever you go down to the lake to bathe, and let Cain follow you.

-He would die before admitting to that, however.

-Multiple times, he’s had to be pulled off of Micah after the blonde would say something like “I wonder if they’d mind me comin’ to the lake with them too?” Or some other tasteless comment.

-But can you blame the man? He just wants you (and his sons pet, I guess,) to be happy and safe in the camp.

JAVIER

-Believe it or not, Javier is actually a big animal guy.

-The others in camp don’t know it, but that’s just because he hides it well.

-He has to hold back a smile whenever he sees you sitting on a log, with nearly half the hens in the coop sleeping soundly on or around you as you read a book.

-There’s been more than one occasion where the ravenette wakes up to find Boaz freshly groomed, with a new braid in his mane.

-He often finds extra sugar cubes and oat cakes in the steeds saddle bags, too.

-One time, Javier had barely made it back to camp after a particularly rough day; the abandoned homestead he had heard about was very much not abandoned, and the man barely made it off the property alive.

-Boaz didn’t have it as bad, but there was a exceptionally nasty gash on his back left leg where a bullet grazed him.

-After resting, Javier woke up the next morning to find you sleeping, leaned up against a bale of hay next to his horse, who had a fresh bandage on his leg.

-The outlaw let out an amused huff when he noticed the now empty basket in your lap, that he could only assume had apples or carrots inside before you fell asleep.

KIERAN

-Of course he’s already enraptured by your affinity with the horses.

-One hundred percent, he has woken up more than once from dreaming about owning a horse farm with you in the countryside, where neither of you had to worry about O’Driscolls or Pinkertons.

-Every time he does, he has to take a walk to clear his head, and it typically takes at least ten minutes to get his heart rate and body temperature back to normal.

-The most bewitching thing about you, though, (in his humble opinion,) is the way you quietly ask to accompany him any time he goes fishing.

-You never actually fish with him, which is fine by him. He honestly prefers just having another person with him over having to constantly reel in his line to avoid tangling with another fisherman.

-He finds that his heart skips a beat whenever he hears you squeal excitedly at finding something in the reeds, and almost always ends up abandoning his fishing rod to spend time with you in the ankle-deep water.

-The way your eyes light up when you find a frog, salamander, or crawfish is the most adorable thing to the brunette. He honestly has to catch himself before he nearly faints from being so overwhelmed by your charm.

-By the time you both head back, giggling and whispering to eachother, Kieran finds himself not even slightly phased by the idea of Arthur or Pearson nagging him for not bringing any fish back.

Yeah yeah, I’m sure you can tell who’s the favorite. Listen, Kieran is my beloved horse girl, and he deserved better, so I’m here to provide.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #charles smith #john marston #javier escuella #kieran duffy #rdr2 imagine #writing prompt #rdr2 fanfic #safe for tumblr #animals #horses #god i love these gay cowboys

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atom-writings · 1 year

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this is very random, but what about the hetalia main eight where their s/o has a dog/cat(ur choice). And the dog/cat is very friendly and loving towards the s/o but not them(it acts cold and sort of just doesnt like them), like how would they react to that?(u dont have to do this if u dont want to its really dumb lmao, either way have a good day)

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) S/O’s pet dislikes them.

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N this is a cute request. … .. . ouppy and kitty!!! Sorry this is shorter idk:

Trigger Warning: None, just fluff!

“What, don’t they like me? I didn’t do anything wrong…”

Alfred really cannot tell when animals like or dislike him. To be fair, he’s like that with humans too… but with animals, he just assumes they all love him.

But he’s also not great at being incredibly gentle with them. If you want him to stop riling up your animals you’ve got to just tell him outright.

After that, he’ll just try to bribe them with treats. If he can be bought with food, surely your pet can too. Actually, him and your pet are similar in a lot of ways…

You can literally see how hard it is for him to resist petting them (especially if it’s a dog… he loves dogs so much,) but he’ll wait until they come to him first.

“Alright well… these things can take time I suppose. They’ll like me eventually, right?”

Arthur doesn’t take it personally. He’s had a lot of animals of his own, and they’ve all hated him at the start as well. He’ll just be patient.

But also all the pets he’s had before have been like… sheep or rats so he’s not sure how to handle your more average pets. Hopefully they don’t care if he doesn’t pet them a lot.

He says he doesn’t care that much, but you’ve also caught him sneaking your pet little pieces of dinner (he’s nearly as bad as Alfred!)

In general, he doesn’t care much for most animals, but he absolutely adores yours. The first time they act affectionately towards him, he immediately calls you excitedly.

“Aw, why are you running away? I will just catch you again!”

He’s definitely taking it a little personally. He hasn’t had a lot of pets that weren’t birds so he’s not used to normal animal affection. He definitely needs assurance from you that they’ll love him eventually…

But until then, he’s just gonna force your pet to be around him. Even if they hate it, he’s gonna be super affectionate.

Hopefully they don’t get too pissed off about it. It breaks his heart just a little that they won’t reciprocate. They like you and not him?!

Once they finally do, he nearly bursts into tears. He takes about a million photos and immediately sends all of them to you.

“Aiyah! Fine, then I do not like you either. Even when you’re so cute…”

Yao has lots of pets himself. That love he has for you absolutely extends to your animals. When they don’t love him back, well, he has nothing but time!

A lot of the time, he’ll just sit next to them, trying to get them more comfortable. He would never force them to be affectionate with him, even though he just wants to grab them and squeeze them-

Once they start crawling in his lap on their own volition, he’s cuddling with them all the time! If your pets weren’t spoiled before, they will be now.

“Y/N, can’t you make them like me? It makes me feel bad…”

Ivan is used to rejection, but not rejection from something so adorable! He takes it very personally… he’ll act like he’s not upset but he really is. After all, your pets are important to you, so he’ll have to love them too

He doesn’t know how to make them warm up to him, so he just tries everything at once. This of course… does not work. Which probably only makes him more upset

But once you tell him to just leave them alone, he listens. Soon enough your pet will be crawling all over him, and he’ll be losing his mind about it. Animals have never liked him before, but just like you, your pet is finally an exception.

“Come here little kit- Ouch! Why would you hurt me when I’m trying to love you?!”

Just like he is with you, Feliciano is not familiar with “taking it slow.” As soon as he can, he tries grabbing and playing with your pet. If they resist, he’ll be a little hurt.

He’s much better with cats than he is with dogs. If you have a cat, he’ll try playing with them and laying next to them whenever he can. If you have a dog, he’ll ask to take it on walks just the two of them.

Considering how lovable he is, surely your pet will warm up quickly. And when they do, he couldn’t be more ecstatic.

“Oh no, did I do something wrong? They don’t seem to like me very much…”

Considering how many dogs Ludwig has had, he’s really not used to this. Animals tend to love him on sight, so he’s not sure how to proceed from there.

So, he researches. Soon you’ll see him just hanging out around them, trying to get them more comfortable. Plus, he’ll buy lots of treats he’s sure they’ll like. Anything to get them loving him as quick as possible.

And once they do, that pet is as important to him as it is to you. Even if things were awkward at the start.

“Ah. That’s too bad. Maybe they will warm up to me later.”

Frankly, Kiku does not care that much. He won’t take it personally. He knows that most animals (... and many people) can find him hard to warm up to. But your pet will be seeing him a lot, so it will be fine in the long run.

If he buys your pet anything, it’s not to manipulate them into liking him or anything. He just thinks your pet is super cute and deserves it.

When they do finally come to him, he’s super excited. Even though he doesn’t seem like it. He’ll call you into the room and then just point at your pet like “!!!” After that, that animal is getting all the love and affection he can possibly give.

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d3lta-2005 · 1 year

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Hello!

Can i request the Shelby Brothers with a male reader that is like a grandma, like a sweet old lady, that bakes and cooks and knits sweaters adn just takes care of them, but if he finds out someone hurt his babies, he is a wild animal, will absolutely destroy them.

And like a grandma has a lot of pets, doesn't matter which kinda just a lot, maybe a strange type of animal

Shelby Brothers + Michael with a male reader that is like a grandma and has wierd pets but becomes hostile when his S/O is hurt.

TW: cannon typical violence and language :D

MALE GENDER SPECIFIED

B/T = body type

F/C = favourite colour

H/C = hair colour

A/N: of course you can request this, I have enjoyed writing this it was very fun I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. My requests are open.

I Picked pigeon as the animal because they are too cute.

*Thomas Shelby*

You were making some sandwiches and tea. You pigeons Greg and Sam were rubbing against your hand wanting to be fed a bit off the bread, when you heard the door slam. You knew it was Tommy.

Y/N -' I made us some sandwiches and I am just finishing up making the cuppa.'

You turn around to see Tommy's face and clothes covered in blood, he had cuts all over his face and som scattered on his neck.

Y/N -' Tommy are you ok? What happened? Let me get something to clean you up.'

After you patched him up

Y/N -' now tell me who did this to you.'

T/S -' I am fine I have sorted it you don't have to worry about it we just had a difference of opinion.'

Y/N -' you call having a bashed up bloody face a difference in opinion?!'

T/S -' .... * Sigh *, *insert random group name*'

...

Now you are the one returning home covered in blood but with only one or two little scratches.

Your pigeons were calling you into the main room. There sat Tommy in the chair reading. He looked up at you.

T.S -' Jesus Christ what happened to you, you are covered in blood.'

-' don't tell me you actually went after them.'

Y/N -' I couldn't just stand there and watch it happened dear.'

*Arthur Shelby*

Knowing Arthur at this time of night he was probably on the way back from the Garrison in a huff because some stranger was being annoying and complaining about there life.

You heard a bash against the wall the pigeons started flying around and cooing.

You walked to the door and saw Arthur slumped over on the wall with what looks like blood porring from his face

Y/N -' Arthur are you ok, dearest you hear me?'

You tilted his head up to look at you he was half blacked out. You carried him to a seat in the front room and grabbed your med kit and started patching him up.

Y/N -' what happened ?'

A/S -' There was an argument at the bar, I tried to de escalate it but then they dragged in the fact I am a Shelby and., and all I do is fight and cause trouble.'

Y/N -' I know you better then anyone and I know that that's not true.'

A/S -' I know but things escalated even more and they started smacking and punching each other so I had to try and break them up my self.'

Y/N -' do you know them, the ones that started it? I simply just want to have a word with them.'

A/S -' couple of new people who came in I should have known they were truble when they walked in. *Enter discription of 2 people*'

Y/N -' ok you sit tight give my pigeons a bit of company, I will be back in a bit don't worry or stress over anything.'

You went to go have a word with the people who caused it lucky you knew were they lived.

You just had a little word with them

Nothing more nothing less.

Y/N -' Arthur dear I am home you in the front?'

He is in his reading chair slumped over asleep with the pigeons in his arms. You knew it was best to leave him asleep, although you did fix his position so he was comfortable.

*John Shelby*

You were out on a stroll with John holding eachothers hand, because John doesn't care, when a bloke passed by muttering about the two of you

Man -' fook'n slags'

You turned your head to see a man in his 60's with a srumpled up face

Y/N -'what did you say about my boyfriend, do you wanna repeat it mate cause I am all ears.'

Man -' you know what I will you are both slags and gays look at you rott in hell.'

J/S -' do you not know who I am? Do you really wanna fight me that much?'

-' I am a Peaky Blinder, John Shelby, a man you really should not mess with bold of you to say such things'

The man didn't seem fazed at all, so you decide to step in

Y/N -'how dare you say such a thing about me and my boyfriend, have you no dignity?'

The man just stood there and scoffed. You raised your hands ready to fight. John seemed shocked and tried to stop you and calm you down so it doesn't escalate and so you don't cause a fight.

The man did however seem shocked.

J/S -' calm down he's not worth the fight, let's just finish the walk get back home and I will make us a brew, yeah, how does that sound?'

You noded your head in agreement and turned back around and continued the stroll.

*Michael gray*

You and Michael were getting drunk at the garrison laughing and giggling at each other. You were practically on top of each other. His words were sluring and to be honest you couldn't understand what he was saying but dam did he look nice.

I mean he looks nice normally but the alcohol seams to enhance the effects of attraction he had on you.

M/G -' you look so handsome I wanna kiss you baby.'

Y/N -' do you have the guts to kiss me where we are right now, we are not at home dear we are at the garrison, think you can wait till we get back?'

And he did, sort of you got to Polly's doorstep, he couldn't resist any longer than that. It was almost a craving for you and your lips.

He kissed you under that doorstep.

But Polly opened the door on the two of you, you both turned.

P/G -' why on earth are you on my doorstep snogging eachother, get inside will you our family has a bad enough name as it is.'

Polly dragged Michael inside then you and locked the door behind her. Michael then went straight up stairs and you followed close behind.

You both ended pasted out next to eachother.

#gender neutral s/o #mlm #nblm #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x male reader #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby #john shelby x male reader #john shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x male reader #thomas shelby x reader #michael gray #michael gray x reader #Michael gray x male reader #male s/o #male reader

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yanderepuck · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 19

WELCOME BACK SLUTS. It's that time of the year you've been looking forward to. As always, Kinktober is hosted by your local Napoleon simp @xxsycamore

If you would like to read Kinktober 2021 and 2022 they are here

Remember to reblog and tell me what you thought about it

Day 19 - Phone Sex | Wet Dreams

You can't look at Sebastian the same way now. You start to get flustered and you begin rubbing your legs together, all while thinking about that dream you had last night.

Why would you even have that dream? You don't think of him that way. It's bad enough that you're with him for most of the day. In the kitchen too. Where it took place.

You do your best to not make eye contact with him. Why did that dream have to be so vivid? Why did your brain decide to dream about Sebastian bending you over the counter and fucking you senseless?

Oops. Now it's in your head and it's replaying.

Bent over the counter, your skirt hiked up, his pants open just enough to get his cock out and into you. He did not go easy on you.

You then start to wonder if that's how he would actually be. Is he really that ruthless? Would he really- No! Stop! You need to keep working.

But the way he pulled your hair in the dream. And the way he left bruises all over your thighs. That gloved hand tightly around your neck. And his cock so deep in-

"Shit!" You snap back into reality when you cut your finger while cutting up vegetables.

Sebastian hurries over and takes your hand, getting blood all over his gloves.

"Here," he grabs a rag and wraps it around your finger. "Apply pressure while I get the first aid kit."

Using your other hand you hold the rag in place and he looks through the cabinets looking for it.

"You need to pay attention when you're cutting things up," he finds it and comes back over. The blood is already soaking through the rag. Taking your hand again he takes you over to the sink and turns on the water.

As he leads you over and leans your hand into the sink, his body presses against your back and you feel your cheeks getting warm.

"Keep your hand there for a moment," he takes his gloves off and starts going through the first aid.

"What were you even thinking about?"

Oh.. please don't ask that...

"N-nothing really. I guess I just spaced out."

"Nothing nearly cost you your finger. Let me see it."

He comes back over and you remove your hand from the water and rag. Removing the pressure started to make it hurt like crazy.

"Shit shit shit," you grit your teeth. Sebastian wraps it up again, holding your hand tightly.

Ugh.. now that's reminding you of how he pushed you around the kitchen, how he held you down on the counter.

Now isn't the time!

"M-maybe I can get Arthur to help me. He was a doctor, right? And you can finish making breakfast."

"I suppose he could he-"

"I'll go to him!" You carefully pull your hand away out of his grip and hurry out of the kitchen.

Sebastian looks confused as you rush out, but then sighs and starts to clean up the mess.

You take deep breaths. You aren't sure if it's from the pain or the thoughts going on in your head.

Flashes of that dream going through your head. Of him thrusting into you. You could still feel the imprint of him pressed up against you. You would love to see him naked and know how big he really is. You wonder if your dream is accurate with how it would feel. You wonder-

"Get out of my head!" You hurry to Arthur's room and hope these thoughts will just stop. You can handle being here for another two weeks if this is how you are going to think about him.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp sebastian #kinktober

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lazlolullaby · 11 months

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Where is the Moon Knight AU where Marc and Layla's patron Gods are swapped? and now my brain can't work because it extended into a full roleswap AU?

Layla's father came back from a successful dig with a trove of information and a lovely little ushabti of Khonshu. However, Abdullah is acting strange, talking to thin air, going out at night, researching further into obscure things. The lights are also flickering no matter how much she checks the generator and the wind keeps blowing despite the doors being shut.

Abdullah El-Faouly is the Eye of Khonshu: being banished for so long from the world, the God needs some time to adjust before going forward with his plan of punishing evildoers. (this was Khonshu trying so hard to be like the Ennead, but he could not abandon his nature to protect.) Abdullah ends up breaking the contract and Khonshu leaves the ushabti behind as a token of protection.

(then there is Arthur Harrow, the Talons of Khonshu. While his willingness to perform violence is a boon, sometimes he is too eager.)

Everything is fine for a while, then mercenaries break in to find the artifact. Bushman threatens them. Layla fights and takes down most of them, but her father is still hurt. One of the remaining mercenaries turns on Bushman. (He starts the mission as Marc - but since he can't handle another innocent death on his hands, backs out and swaps with Jake.)

During the struggle, Layla gets shot. Jake gets things done and then scatters. (he believes that he killed her. this has. repercussions on the system.)

Khonshu at first just wanted to revive Abdullah, but at his insistence he gives up being an Avatar so Layla can be revived. "she is going to be angry. You won't be there to see it." "she would have gone after them anyway."

(Khonshu abandons Harrow for this, not sure if it was worth it.)

Abdullah is right. Layla does go on a hunt, now as the Wings of Khonshu. Moon Scarab, to the underworld and the rumor mill.

She's mad about everything. Mad that her father presumed she needed saving, mad that she has to listen to an angry bird. (Rage, though it burns hot, always burns out. It's better than the cold certainty of Harrow's punish before wrongdoing. It is worth it.)

(Layla isn't unhinged, she's just gripping very tight to the hinges, thank you for asking.)

Weeks pass and she finds the last person of the mercenary group. A man cuffed to a wheelchair in a psych ward, sedated.

"His mind is fractured. Broken." Khonshu says. "It could be a fitting punishment, to keep him here. His body rotting while his mind spins in fruitless cycles."

"or he could be very good at hiding. One way to find out."

Layla is an excellent forger - a release for the merc, a small flat and money to keep him in town while he recovers from treatment. She feeds him a lie about being a family friend. There's a flicker of distrust.

"I've got a condition - blacking out, memory issues, insomnia - I'll be up reading all night." He says his name is Steven, but she knows better. "Are you sure you want to be flatmates?"

"I have places to be at night." Khonshu flickers the lights.

"Oh. Fine. Night owl, that's...fine."

"Don't worry about the lights, the landlord never answers the calls." don't mind that she's the landlord.

Her coming home with bruises and cuts. Steven flinches, insisting they go out to get bandages because they don't have a proper first aid kit. The awkward stare off with a hurt lady and a nervous guy VS the night shift cashier that's Seen it All. "bar fight. I won." Layla grins, blood on her teeth.

(The little moment where they're close as he's putting a bandage on her nose and being. so. tender. to someone who's never been more than 'distractedly polite' to him. His face changing to something new, something strange and lovely.)

When she finds him hitting himself, it's not that hard for him to explain. "I don't - I don't know if this is real. Jake is very sure you're dead!"

It turns out after the night of the attack, Jake got them far away as possible. He resolved to become a night driver and Steven to keep house in the day. Marc woke up and realized an alter was trying to build a life and just...let them. Better than mercenary work.

Steven gets worried about his missing time and gets therapy...and the therapist realizes, tells them and pushes them too hard to "come together as one whole"...Jake snaps and he's forced into a psych ward.

They cribbed together some form of communication on the psych ward thanks to a different therapist and the other patients. Marc's immense guilt wanted them to stay. But Jake and Steven wanted the body out. If they spent more time in the ward, they might reveal some crimes and the system doubts that they'll be allowed this level of help in a prison.

When Layla arrived to take them, it was an opportunity they didn't want to refuse.

"We don't want to be one person. We want to be ourselves." Steven fully introduces them after that. "We are the Hippo system! Like the Hippocampus of the brain that works with memory - that's Marc - and navigation - that's Jake!" He spells it out, "He Isn't a People Person Otherwise!"

"Who's he?"

Steven shrugs. "I dunno. I'm just here for general life, Jake is here for protection and gossip and Marc...he's well. Not as social as he'd like to be. I'm not supposed to know about it, that's not my "function", as the doc would say but...whatever happened that made us us was too much for one person to bear. It happened before we met you, so it's not your fault."

Layla shrugs. "What can you tell me about that night?"

"I can't tell you. That's part of the point, us being separate and all."

She eventually gets an answer out of them. Layla also lies and says she wasn't as badly hurt as they saw and shows off her Moon Scarab suit with the healing. (Jake accepts that answer at face value. Steven is a little concerned but willing to let it slide. Marc is suspicious.)

Now with their first round of secrets gone, they feel more at home. The Hippo System settles in as a decent partner in her artifact retrieval - he can put his mercenary skills to a good cause and she doesn't have to hide that burning rage as much. (the rage dims, is soothed and that's not good for vengeance.)

Khonshu starts to intrude, making noises about using the Hippo System as his next Avatar. Layla pulls away, tries to keep them apart because she Knows any more pressure on that mind is going to break them apart.

Wendy Spector dies and the Hippo system is thrown out of balance.

(The rage ignites. She's always held it together - her family after her mother died, her composure when people talked over her and her knowledge of Egypt, her home, now the Hippo system. It's always been up to her and she's resigned and vicious and not holding back.)

Layla makes a judgement call and goes after Harrow alone.

The system recovers. Steven now knows why he exists. He does not flinch from Layla's rage, does not fall for Harrow's twisted philosophy, not like Marc or Jake would. He rallies the system to action, to save the world.

Harrow was able to get dirt on Marc's past and tries to kill him with Judgement, but it doesn't work. He reveals about Khonshu, that his partner is lying to him and it does strain the relationship.

Things follow canon. Khonshu gets sealed into stone. Layla dies and Marc blends in as a follower.

Tawaret tries to ask him to be her Avatar, but he refuses. "Do you know what I did as a child to my brother? What my mother did to me over and over for it? Why would you even want me to defend women and children?"

And he releases Khonshu. "Ah. Big pigeon! No wonder Layla was so bloody ready to be rid of you! Get back to her then! Go on!"

And Tawaret comes back. "Temporary Avatar. I don't want any more voices in my head than I started with."

And he becomes Hippo Knight, because why not?

And they win against Harrow and the cult of Ammit. The system helps Layla stop giving into her rage to kill Harrow. Everyone should be able to choose good or evil.

(Steven kept in contact with the patients and nurses in the psych ward. Harrow is preaching violence again and well. He made his choice. Jake drives Layla over to meet with him. Marc holds her tight.)

#moon knight #layla el faouly #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #steven grant x layla el faouly #khonshu #marc spector x layla el faouly #lazlo's lulls #roleswap au #something about layla gets some mental illness and the system gets some stability #idk i kind of liked the thought of Layla's first impression of the system being him at his worst in the psych ward #then her learning about the different alters when they're ready #and the hippo acronym is VERY steven so #Inaccurate did system much like the show

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kirbybecomesastarwarrior · 3 months

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Does arthur ever have problems due to his shoulders? Cause like, if Uther has burned his shoulders as punishment for a lot of times to the pint where they're now scared, then he'd probably have shoulder pains or aches. Then again, I'm not a doctor so idk

Great questions... there are a lot of layers to the answers

He's extremely sensitive to people touching his shoulders... it's the reason why he feels uncomfortable with his armor off. There are only four people he feels safe with his armor off; Celestine, Kit Cosomo, Nonsurat (eventually...), and Meta Knight.

Before he fell into madness... he was the equivalent of Tywin Lannister. He knew how to look like he cared & to talk his way out of the situation. He was coldhearted & cruel... but the man was no fool. He knew how to play the game... only appealed to the upper crusts of the galaxy, which allowed him to gain many powerful allies at the top.

Sir Uther was in a high position... this was the leader of GSA, and not many could oppose his word. He was the... strongest warrior in the galaxy (for his time); the Ancients & Absalom (the high priest of the Ancient- an OC I will present later) had appointed him. No one questioned him...

And yes, Arthur got the short end of the stick...

(I changed some things (originally he started as the strongest): but Arthur as a young cadet started out as the weakest... there was no clear winner, but it was clear that Arthur was the weakest.)

Sir Uther already had high expectations for Arthur because he possessed a very rare elemental magic (light magic)... And he was the weakest out of the three (what a waste of rare magic he thought).

He ended up being an example for the other two (Morgan & Nonsurat) "This is what happens when you fail me". The way Arthur's been burned, it's the equivalent of a brand mark... Uther had intentionally done this for control purposes... to put fear into the other two.

Morgan & Nonsurat weren't cruel to Arthur (perse) ... but they ignored him for being the weakest. Constantly leaving him out of their conversations & practice sessions together. (This behavior was taught to them by Uther...)

However, this motivated Arthur to train even harder... pushing himself to the limit (to a very unhealthy amount). In the sense of "Who needs them... I can train without... BETTER EVEN!" Mentally blocking out and ignoring the pain. All the venom came from Arthur... the other two just feed off of that.

When the day Arthur managed to tip the scale and become the strongest of the three... this changed everything. He (Arthur) exceeded Uther's expectations... And finally, Arthur managed to be praised by his mentor... even if it lasted a moment.

This was a high Arthur would be constantly chasing.... Uther saw this and used it to his advantage... he finally managed to produce his perfect soldier (Arthur)... who was willing to do anything for his affection & praise (Uther's scumbag).

But despite Nonsurat (now being the weakest of three), they still had each other... he was the one alone at the top now. He couldn't help but envy them... Like I said Arthur was already venomous towards them (for always leaving him out)...

Sir Uther saw the animosity between the three and took advantage of it... starting a whole new dynamic...

He no longer had to use his "old method intimidation" (he didn't have to lift a finger), he merely had to turn the three of them against each other... (I've touched up on this in Morgan's intro post).

Basically, Uther made the three strongest warriors in the GSA by constantly making them compete with each other (knives constantly sharpening one another). And it worked dangerously better...

There would always be a side comment (from Uther). "You see, this is why... you two, never be as good as Arthur..." turning all their hatred towards Arthur. And he'd watch in content as the mere words would cause them to spring back into action, trying to outdo Arthur ... He'd especially say these things to Morgan, seeing how effective it was as a motivator. Reminding her how close she was to... causing Morgan to foster her hatred of Arthur...

While Arthur's suffered more physical abuse... Nonsurat and Morgan were more emotional & mental... which was just as damaging... they were all scarred by just in different ways Uther...

Speaking of Arthur... he fed his paranoia that Morgan & Nonsurat were constantly out to get him and his spot. Reminding him, " You don't want to experience being at the bottom again..." And would merely touch the pauldron... and would trigger him to go back and work twice as hard.

Ignore all his aches... and pains... Which is why Arthur has such a high pain tolerance... He was never going back down... he didn't want to be discarded... he didn't want to feel worthless again. The burns on his arm are a reminder of those times...

Which is why it was especially painful for Arthur when he found Uther... Regarding this post (What Kind of Kings in My Blood)

I plan to explore more of this later please say tuned~

#kirby #kbasw #sir arthur kirby #sir arthur #sir nonsurat #dame morgan #sir uther #kirby oc #answered

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morri-draws · 2 months

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Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 3

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 4,536

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 2

Read on Ao3

With the finishing touches done, Sir Leon’s gambeson and Sir Gwaine’s cloak are complete. The day still being young, you plan to find the knights at morning training to inform them that their new garments are ready.

Passing through a covered walkway, you step into a grassy clearing, the clash of swords ringing through the air. The knights spar in the centre of the clearing, weapon racks and training dummies positioned around the perimeter.

Spotting Merlin leaning against one of the racks, you step up beside him and watch the sparring as the king shouts instruction from the sidelines. His damp hair tells you that he was involved in the mock-fight just moments ago. Eyes flicking between the helmeted knights, you manage to work out which is Sir Gwaine, by the curled ends of dark hair peeking out from under his helmet.

You nudge Merlin’s arm. “Having fun?”

He turns to you with a playful frown and shakes his head. “No, not really,”

“I just wanted to let Sir Gwaine and Sir Leon know that their new pieces are finished, if they could come to my chambers when convenient?”

“I’ll tell them to stop by after training,”

“Thank you Merlin,” You give him a smile and head back to your chambers.

A knock at your door some time later reveals Merlin.

“They are on their way, but I told them to wash first. They were dripping with sweat and stinking,” His nose wrinkles in disgust.

You laugh. “I appreciate that, Merlin. I would prefer if their new clothes aren’t immediately soiled,”

“That’s what I thought,” he grins. “Anyway, I’d better be off to clean Arthur’s sweaty clothes,”

“Sounds lovely,” You grimace. “See you around, Merlin,”

A short while later, Sir Leon arrives.

“Sir Leon, please come inside,”

You fetch his new gambeson as he enters the room. He’s out of his knight’s kit, wearing just a plain tunic and trousers, which make him appear even slimmer than usual. You approach with the gambeson in hand and assist him with putting it on, before preparing to fasten it in front, but Sir Leon has already begun to do so.

“I’m used to getting dressed myself,” He says, cheeks red.

You step back, allowing him to get a feel for the garment. He flexes his body, moving his arms around at different angles.

“This is very nice,” He says. “Extremely comfortable. Thank you,”

You bow your head. “Thank you, sir. I hope it serves you well,”

“Sir Gwaine might be some time. He was still preening when I left the armoury,” Sir Leon smirks.

You laugh. “Alright, I will try to be patient,”

He gives you an amused smile and leaves your chambers.

A while later, Sir Gwaine arrives.

“Finished making yourself presentable?” You ask as you answer the door.

He narrows his eyes. “Did Sir Leon mention something?”

“Mention something about what?” You feign ignorance.

“Never mind,” Gwaine steps inside.

You fetch his new cloak from the worktable and bring it over.

“Here we are, one new cloak, as requested,”

You drape it over his shoulders and align the front, fastening it. You focus intently on the metal buckle, very aware of how close you are to the knight. You can hear his breathing and are sure you can feel his gaze burning into the top of your head.

“There,” You say as you step back. “Give us a twirl,”

“Really? A twirl?”

“It’s important,” You suppress a smile.

Gwaine sighs and turns stiffly on the spot until he’s made a full rotation.

“Lacking grace, but it will do,” You say. “Are you happy with it?”

“I am, thank you,”

“And no more getting dragged behind horses,” You raise a stern finger.

Gwaine laughs. “Speaking of that, Camelot’s annual jousting tournament is approaching. I’ll be competing for the first time,”

“Oh, that’s exciting,” You smile.

“Perhaps, unless I make a complete fool of myself,” Gwaine grimaces. “I’m much more used to swordplay,”

“I’m sure you won’t, you do ever so much training,”

“That I do,” Gwaine laughs. “And it’ll be more so leading up to the tournament, so you may be deprived of my charming company,”

“I’ll bear it as best I can,”

“That being said, I must leave you now. Arthur will have Elyan, Percival and I learn the rules by heart. Theory as well as practice, he says,”

“Then I will wish you good day, and good luck,”

Gwaine gives a small bow and leaves your chambers.

With your first jobs as royal clothier now complete, and your chambers tidied, you decide to visit the queen to see if there is any more work for you.

The queen greets you when you knock on her chamber door, welcoming you inside.

“I have completed the knights’ new garments,” You say as you enter. “And I wondered if there might be more work for me,”

“I see that you aren’t one to be idle,” The queen says. “Now you mention it, there is another task you could do,”

She wanders over to the wardrobe and retrieves a red tunic.

“You see this,” She says, bringing it over and holding it up in front of the window. “It is threadbare, yet Arthur insists on still wearing it. They’re all like this. All the tunics he has, he’s had since he was still the prince,”

You inspect the garment and can indeed see the daylight shining through, in between the threads of the fabric’s weave.

“When he wears it, you can see through it. He almost might as well be shirtless,”

You stifle a laugh. Gwen sees and breaks into a smile.

“Excuse my ranting,” She laughs. “Anyway, I would like you to make some new tunics for him,”

“Would you like them to be made of a finer fabric to reflect his station?” You ask.

“Arthur isn’t one to wear fine things or flaunt his wealth. He’s always dressed simply,”

You nod thoughtfully. “Perhaps finely woven linen then? Not too fancy, but still good quality,”

“That sounds perfect for him,”

“Excellent. If you could send him my way when he has a free moment, I can get his measurements and make a start on the new tunics,”

“I will. Thank you, (Y/N),”

You turn to leave.

“Before you go,” Gwen says. “You may have noticed the extra bustle around the castle. We’re getting ready for the annual jousting tournament,”

“Oh yes, Sir Gwaine told me of it,”

“Well, I was wondering if you would be my special guest to the event. You can sit with me in the stands and we can watch the tournament together,”

You smile. “I would be honoured to go with you,”

Early the next morning, shortly after you’ve taken the last bite of your breakfast, there’s a knock at your door. You answer to find the king of Camelot.

“Welcome, sire. Please do come in,” You hold the door open so the king may enter, while sinking into a low curtsy.

He’s casually dressed, wearing one of the threadbare red tunics.

“It’s (Y/N), isn’t it?” He asks.

“Yes, sire,”

“Guinevere is very pleased with your work. She looks beautiful in the gown you made for her,”

A warmth floods through you at the king’s high praise.

“Thank you, sire. It fills me with happiness to hear you say so,”

The king smiles. “So, where do you need me?”

“Oh, just over here,” You direct him to the spot beside your worktables.

You grab your tape measure and begin taking measurements, marking them all down in a new page in your journal.

“Will it just be the new tunics today, sire?”

“Yes thank you, (Y/N),”

You take some bolts of fabric off the shelves, in different shades of red.

“Just come in front of the mirror please,”

“I hope you have enjoyed your time in the castle so far?” He says as he steps in front of the mirror. “Let me know if there is anything else you need,”

“I am very happy with my situation,” You reply. “I have generous chambers with ideal lighting and workspace for my trade, and I live amongst good company,”

Taking up one of the bolts of fabric, you unwrap it partially, draping the end over one of the king’s shoulders.

“Does that good company include Sir Gwaine?” He asks.

You spot his playful smile in the mirror, as well as your own reddening cheeks. You turn your gaze away in an attempt to hide that fact.

“It does include him, since everyone I’ve met so far has been kind,”

Glancing quickly back at the mirror, the king’s eyes are studying your reflection.

“He talks about you a lot,” He adds, giving a knowing smile as he spots your face reddening further. “Sir Gwaine is a good man,”

“Yes sire,” You reply weakly, wanting this part of the conversation to be over before your face resembles a beetroot.

You clear your throat and focus your attention back on your work.

“I have a scarlet linen here,” You pull the end of the fabric taut against the king’s chest. “Also if you want something more subdued, I have this one, which is more of a burgundy,”

You swap out the scarlet for the other colour, draping it over his shoulder in the same way.

“I’ll take a tunic in each colour,” The king says. “Do you also have some kind of… dark blue?”

“I should have, sire. I’ll just look at my stocks,”

You rest the bolt of burgundy linen down on the table and return to your shelves, retrieving a bolt of rich blue linen, and one of a more muted shade of blue. You take them to the king and hold them out for him to inspect.

“I have these shades of blue in the same linen as the reds,”

The king looks between them thoughtfully.

“I think that one,” He points to the muted blue. “It always pays to have something to make me look less like the king of Camelot,”

You look at him quizzically. Noticing your confusion, he adds:

“Some missions require me to be… unknown,”

You nod. “I see, sire. So, a tunic in the scarlet, one in burgundy and one in the blue here?”

“Yes that would be perfect, thank you (Y/N),” Arthur heads for the door. “Let me know when they’re finished,”

Next thing you know, he’s gone. You suppose he must be a very busy man.

In the time leading up to the tournament, you spend the days working on Arthur’s tunics and the nights reworking one of your old bodices. Since you will be going as the queen’s guest, you want to look your best, so you replace the old outer fabric with a red and gold brocade, the colours to show support for the competing knights of Camelot, or perhaps just one knight in particular.

On the morning of the tournament, you dress in a grey-brown skirt and a white blouse with your reworked red and gold bodice over the top, laced with gold ribbon. You fix your hair into a braided up-do, and since it threatens to be a chilly day, throw a plain shawl over your shoulders before you head out from the castle and begin your walk to the jousting pitch, which is situated just outside the city’s walls.

You make your way through the lower town, the streets bustling and buzzing with citizens excited for the day’s events. You catch bits of conversation here and there, about who will be competing and who has competed in the past, as well as things that have happened at previous tournaments. One such piece of gossip alarms you, and you quicken your pace, weaving through the crowd to get to the pitch as fast as you can.

You know you’ve made it to your destination when your vision is swamped with multi-coloured striped tents. Servants and participants rush about between the tents, appearing from and disappearing into the sea of striped canvas. How will you know where to find Gwaine?

You begin your helpless walk through the sea of colour when you spot a familiar face headed your way.

“Merlin!” You shout above the noise.

He looks up from the plate armour he is carrying and heads your way.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” He asks.

“Do you know where I can find Sir Gwaine?”

“He’s in that tent there,” He turns and points behind him, to a tent in a north-eastern direction from where you’re standing.

“Thank you Merlin,”

You rush off immediately and approach the tent, stopping outside the entrance flap for a moment to listen. You hear two voices inside, one which you are certain is Gwaine’s. Pulling the tent flap aside, you step inside. Gwaine looks up with surprise from where a squire is helping him into his kit.

“(Y/N), I wasn’t expecting you,” He says, brows raised. “You realise it is customary to knock before entering?”

“How is one to knock on a tent?”

“Fair point. Well, you should have announced yourself at least. What if I had been in a state of undress?” He teases with a grin.

Given your current state of anxiety, you give no reply but a concerned frown. Gwaine’s expression drops.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

The squire steps away from Gwaine and busies himself with something else.

“I heard people talking on the way here about past tournaments,” You say. “They said that once, a splinter from one of the lances pierced a knight’s throat and he bled to death,”

“(Y/N),” He steps closer. “If that even did happen, it would have been a long time ago,”

“How do you know that? How do you know it won’t happen again today?”

“Let me show you something,” He leads you to an armour stand. “You see this?” He points to a section at the top of the breastplate, where another metal plate sticks out just under the neckline. “This here is to protect against things like that,”

You inspect the armour and, thinking about how jousting is performed, see that he is right.

“The most injury I might get today is some bruising,” Gwaine says reassuringly.

You hang your head with embarrassment. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,”

“Hey,” He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. It’s nice to know someone’s worried about me,” He smiles.

“I really should get going,” You say. “The queen will be waiting for me,”

“The queen?”

“She invited me to attend as her guest,”

“Then I shall look for you in the royal stand,”

You nod and turn to leave.

“(Y/N),”

You turn around.

“You look lovely today. Did you make your outfit yourself?”

“Of course,” You smile and exit the tent.

You find the queen waiting outside the entrance to the stands.

“So sorry I’m late,” You say as you rush toward her.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t been waiting long,” She smiles. “Shall we head in?”

You and Gwen climb the stairs to the royal stands, where two ornate chairs stand in the middle for the king and queen, and a smaller chair beside the one on the left has been placed for you. The queen takes her seat in the left of the larger chairs and you sit down beside her. The king’s seat remains empty at first, until he joins about ten minutes later. He smiles and greets you and Gwen as he sits down, peering into the lists below with anticipation.

Once the tournament is opened and announcements are made, the first contestants come onto the field. A knight mounts his horse at the east end of the lists, his heraldry telling that he is a knight of Camelot.

“That’s my brother, Sir Elyan,” Gwen leans over to speak in your ear. “It’s his first time competing,”

“Then I wish him good luck,” You smile. “Though I must admit, I do not know the rules of jousting, so I’m afraid I won’t know when to cheer for him,”

“Honestly, I don’t either,” Gwen grins. “Every time I think I’ve grasped it, there turns out to be a new rule I didn’t know of. Just applaud when the rest of the crowd does, that’s what I do,”

You laugh and turn your attention back to the lists, where Sir Elyan and his opponent are preparing. The king cheers from his seat, shouting encouragement.

“I can tell Arthur wishes he was down there in the thick of it,” Gwen says.

Below, the two knights charge toward one another, lances pointing up, but lowering as they approach. Sir Elyan’s lance taps against his opponent’s shoulder, but does not break. The crowd gives a subdued cheer.

“It’s not worth as many points if the lance does not break,” Gwen explains.

You nod and clap along with the crowd.

The match continues and the next two points are earned by Sir Elyan’s opponent, eliminating Elyan from the remainder of the competition. Next up of the knights of Camelot is Sir Percival, a large knight wearing questionable armour, his arms bared for all to see. He wins the majority of points and gets through to the next round. After Sir Percival’s round, Sir Gwaine is announced. He mounts his horse with the assistance of a squire, who then passes the knight his helmet and lance. Steering his horse into position, he looks to the stands and spots you, bowing his head with a smile. The horn marking the start of the round sounds and Gwaine hastily dons his helmet and urges his horse into a gallop. The two knights proceed and Gwaine’s opponent strikes him in the chest, splinters flying in all directions. Your gut clenches as you frantically look him over, but finding no sign of injury, you release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“He should have focused!” You say.

“He had more important things on his mind, it seems,” Gwen smirks.

The knights return to their starting positions and begin the next pass. Gwaine doesn’t look to the stands this time, his focus entirely on his opponent. He lowers his lance, his horse’s hooves pounding beneath him. His lance strikes his opponent square in the chest. You shout and applaud enthusiastically. Gwaine turns his horse around and removes his helmet, finding you in the crowd again. He grins and crosses an arm over his chest, bowing, before putting his helmet back on and returning to his starting position. Hooves pound and lances fall, Gwaine striking his opponent again. You stand, cheering and smacking your hands together with glee. When the knights leave the field and you sit down again, Gwen leans over to speak to you.

“Sir Gwaine has beginners’ luck, he is through to the next round,” She smiles. “There is an intermission now. We can stretch our legs and get some refreshments,”

You and Gwen exit the stands and head to a make-shift food market that’s been set up just outside the jousting pitch. Food and drink stalls stand in rows through the grassy clearing, serving the townsfolk and nobles alike, since all are welcome to watch the tournament. Just as you turn to ask Gwen where she would like to go, a knight approaches.

“Elyan,” Gwen greets him with a smile. “This is my friend, (Y/N),” She introduces you.

“So you are (Y/N)?” He says with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you,”

“Only favourable things, I hope?”

“Do not fear, I’ve heard only the best of things,” He smiles mischievously, as if amused at an inside joke.

“You did well in the joust,” Gwen says.

“Is that what you call doing well?” Elyan shakes his head.

“But you are a beginner to the sport,” You say. “To compete for the first time, in front of such a crowd, takes great courage. Even the most skilled jousters, including the king himself, were once in your place. You can only improve from now,”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Elyan says earnestly. “That is very kind of you,”

Gwen gives you a warm smile.

“Let me get you ladies something to drink, I’ll be right back,” Elyan turns around and heads toward a nearby drinks stand.

“Elyan can be very hard on himself,” Gwen says. “Thank you for your kind words,”

You smile in reply, and Elyan returns a few moments later, a tankard in each hand. He passes you and Gwen one each, filled with warm mead.

“What about for yourself?” Gwen asks.

“There’ll be plenty of time for drinking later with the other knights,” He grins.

You take a sip of your drink, the warm honey sweetness pleasant on your tongue.

“Sir Gwaine did quite well, don’t you think (Y/N)?” Elyan asks.

“Yes, very well. You must be proud of him,” You reply.

“I am, I just hope he doesn’t boast about it too much later,”

“Known to do that, is he?”

“If he’s in the mood,” Elyan shrugs playfully. “I should head back and see how the others are doing. Very nice to meet you, (Y/N),”

He gives a smile to you and Gwen and heads toward the tents.

After your drinks are finished, you return the tankards to the merchant stall and go back to your seats in the jousting stands. You watch all the knights who made it to the second round, including Gwaine, who wins again, making it through to the third round along with Sir Leon who, as Gwen informs you, has been participating in the annual joust for years.

The third round commences and you watch Gwaine’s turn with bated breath, but having made it this far along with other very skilled participants, he loses the round and is disqualified from the remainder of the competition. You applaud him all the same as he leaves the pitch, giving him a small smile and wave when he looks at you in the stands.

You stay by Gwen’s side for the remainder of the tournament, though you are altogether bored with the competition, being that the only competitor you cared to cheer for is no longer in the running. But you still applaud politely for each winner, until at last the tournament is called to a close. The king quits the stands first to go to congratulate the winners, before you and Gwen leave, beginning a leisurely walk back to the castle.

Some way up the path, you spot Gwaine speaking with a woman. His expression and movements suggest some frustration. As you approach, he glances up and spots you, saying something to the woman before they both head your way.

“My lady,” He addresses Gwen. “May I introduce my sister, Erika. Erika, this is Queen Guinevere,”

Erika dips into a low curtsy, her long dark hair swaying with the movement. “An absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady,”

Gwen inclines her head. “A pleasure to meet you, Erika. Welcome to Camelot,”

Erika glances to you, her expression unsure. You notice a likeness between the brother and sister. Erika and Gwaine share the same shape of nose and eye colour. But while her eyes may be the same shade, they do not contain the same softness as Gwaine’s do.

“And this,” Gwaine gestures to you. “Is Lady (Y/N),”

You shoot Gwaine a quizzical look as Erika dips into a much shallower curtsy, and mouth at him: Lady? He replies with a grimace.

“Nice to meet you, Lady (Y/N),” Erika says.

“A pleasure to meet you too, Erika,” You reply. “What brings you to Camelot?”

“Oh, I thought I should see how my dear brother is doing,” She grasps Gwaine’s arm with a smile. “He’s been here, becoming a knight and having all sorts of fun, while his poor sister was left behind, in the same old city with the same old people, bored to death,”

“I hope you will find some amusement during your stay in Camelot, then,” Gwen says.

“Indeed, my lady, it seems a charming sort of place,” Erika says. “On that note, you absolutely must introduce me to your fellow knights, Gwaine,”

She tugs on his arm.

“Good day to you both,” Gwaine says to you and Gwen as Erika steers him away, toward the tents.

You and Gwen say goodbye, before continuing the way you came.

“That was… a bit strange,” Gwen says.

“Indeed. She seems… fun,”

You both laugh.

“Speaking of fun, I’ve learned of a textile market that is famous for its beautiful silks. It is some distance to go, but I was wondering if you might like to make an outing of it and go together?” Gwen asks.

“I would love to go,” You reply.

“We should head out three days from now, if we’re to get there before it’s finished.”

“That works for me,” You smile excitedly.

Once you reach the castle courtyard, you say goodbye to Gwen and head up to your chambers. After making a simple dinner, you decide to get an early night since you feel quite exhausted from the day’s activities.

You take down your hair, about to get ready for bed, when there’s a knock at your door. Curious about who might be visiting at this hour, you exit your bedroom and answer the door to find Gwaine.

He glances at your hair. “I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you,”

“Not at all,” You reply. “Is everything alright?”

He sighs. “I wanted to talk with you earlier, but my sister has been interfering since she got here,”

“Did you know she was coming?”

“No, I didn’t. I was just getting ready to head to the armoury when she suddenly showed up, saying she’d come for a visit,”

You give a sympathetic frown. “Well since you’re here now, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Gwaine perks up. “I’ve got a day free, three days from now, and I wanted to ask… if you’d like to go on a picnic with me?” He smiles.

“Oh,” You frown. “I would love to, but I’m afraid I’ve already made plans with the queen,”

“I see…”

“I’m so sorry Gwaine, perhaps another day?”

He puts a hand on his hip, looking down thoughtfully.

“What about tomorrow? Are you free?”

“I can be,” You smile. “I have no firm plans,”

“Excellent. We can go tomorrow then, if that suits?”

“It does, but won’t you have duties to attend to, or training?”

“I’ll work something out, don’t worry,” Gwaine grins. “I’ll come by tomorrow before breakfast. We’ll take a couple horses to a nice spot I know of not too far from the castle,”

“That sounds wonderful,”

“It’s set then! I’ll see you in the morning,” He turns to leave.

“Gwaine,”

He looks back.

“You did very well in the joust today,” You smile. “You should be proud of yourself,”

He grins. “I couldn’t very well make a fool of myself while you were watching, could I?”

You laugh. “I would have cheered for you all the same,”

He looks down sheepishly, but with a smile still on his lips. “Goodnight, (Y/N). Sweet dreams,” He glances up at you through his dark lashes.

“Goodnight, Gwaine. See you tomorrow,”

#gwaine x reader #gwaine #sir gwaine #merlin fic #bbc merlin fic #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #my writing

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all-the-things-2020 · 11 months

Text

Year of Fandom Crossovers: June

Title: “Fifty Shades of Orange”

Pedro Character: Dieter Bravo

Fandom Crossover: The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

Warnings: expletives, mentions of sex, mild LGBTQ+ content

Summary: Dieter Bravo unexpectedly joins the crew of the Heart of Gold.

Notes: I have been a HHGTTG fan since high school. Douglas Adams and Monty Python seriously impacted the development of my sense of humor. The character of Balthazar has been floating around in my subconscious since the late 80’s when I was brainstorming for an unwritten sequel to a fic my high school BFF and I wrote that featured cameos by Ford and Arthur. Since it is June, and Dieter is canonically bisexual, I decided to add a queer flavor to the ending.

@yearofcreation2023 @perennialdoll247

Arthur Dent was confused, but that was not an uncommon occurrence. He entered the lounge on the Heart of Gold and found a rumpled man, close to six feet tall, with uncombed hair, a patchy beard, and a green dressing gown staring at the tea dispenser. He turned toward Arthur and scratched his head.

“Does this thing take American money? And where’s the button for the KitKat?”

Arthur blinked twice, then again for good measure. The man seemed human enough, but then, so had Ford Prefect when Arthur had first met him.

“Erm,” said Arthur. “Excuse me.”

He backed out of the lounge and sought out Ford, who as usual was in his quarters, listening to some sort of electronic banjo music from the latest Arcturian band. “Ford,” Arthur said.

“Arthur,” said Ford.

“There’s a man in the lounge. Wearing a dressing gown. He looks mostly human.”

“Oh, that’s Dieter,” Ford said, waving his hand dismissively. “Zaphod picked him up while you were asleep. Someone found him on their doorstep and they knew we had an Earthman with poor taste in clothes, so Zaphod thought it was you.”

“But he saw me at dinner last night. He had to know it wasn’t me.” Arthur was perplexed. Zaphod was absent minded and scatterbrained (despite the fact that he had two brains, due to having the two heads) but he couldn’t have forgotten about Arthur, could he?

Ford shrugged. “Probably forgot about you,” he said. “He has a hard time remembering what you look like, anyway. Saw the dressing gown and the dark hair and thought ‘Oh, that’s our Earthman.’ I can recognize you right off, but then I was stuck on Earth for a long time. Most sentient beings have a hard time telling Earthpeople apart.”

Arthur was not appeased. “He certainly can recognize Trillian well enough.”

“Well, it’s different with her,” Ford said. “She’s not boring.” He sat up and switched off the music. “Best we go see what our new friend is up to.”

They went back to the lounge, where Dieter was sitting on the floor, looking glumly at a paper cup of tea. “It’s tea,” he said, sadly when he saw them.

“No, it’s not,” Arthur said. “Not really. But it’s as close as it’s possible to get now that Earth’s gone.” He took the cup from Dieter and sipped gingerly at the liquid. As always, it was almost but not entirely completely unlike tea. He grimaced, but swallowed anyway.

“I hate tea,” Dieter said. “And what do you mean Earth’s gone? I was there last week. I think.”

“More like last year,” Ford said. “You’ve got a bit of freezer burn, mate.” He pointed out the frizzled ends of Dieter’s hair and some discoloration on the hem of his dressing gown. “Probably some Gozerians out picking up ‘specimens’ for jollies and forgot you in the freezer.”

“Whoa, there’s two of them!” Zaphod wandered into the lounge. “You been playing with that DIY cloning kit you got for your twelfth birthday again, Ford?”

“I don’t look anything like him,” Arthur protested. “I mean, look at us side by side.”

Zaphod tilted one head to the side, while the other stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, okay, I can see it now. That one’s handsome.” He pointed at Dieter. “The other one is … not.” He turned to Ford. “Which one is yours again?”

“The not one,” Ford said.

“Shame,” said Zaphod. “But I suppose two is almost as cheap to keep as one. He probably eats tea and biscuits like yours, right?”

“I hate tea,” Dieter said firmly. “And I want a KitKat. And an explanation. And a drink. And a joint. At the least.”

“The drink, I can provide,” Zaphod said. He pushed a button on the wall and a cabinet opened, displaying an array of exotic liquors. He used all three arms to pour a colorful concoction into a large snifter, which he handed ceremoniously to Dieter. “Not exactly a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster,” he said sadly, “but the best I can do without a full bar.”

Dieter sniffed the drink, took a cautious sip, and then tipped the glass back, downing the entire beverage in three gulps. “Now about that KitKat …,” he said before his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed in a drunken heap on the floor.

Ford and Zaphod exchanged impressed looks. “Four seconds,” Ford said. “Not bad for such a primitive life form.”

“Humans are not primitive,” Arthur protested. This produced a look from Ford that quickly silenced him. Images of war, corporate greed, environmental destruction and reality television swarmed his brain. Sometimes he forgot Ford was mildly telepathic. “Well, compared to Vogons, we aren’t,” Arthur muttered.

“Your poetry’s better, I’ll give you that,” Zaphod said. “But what are we going to do with two humans?”

“Three,” Arthur pointed out. “Trillian’s human, too. There are three of us.”

“I meant two useless humans,” Zaphod said patiently. “Trillian is a woman. Earth women are amazing. Earth men …” He waved two of his hands derisively at Arthur and Dieter. It was justified in Dieter’s case, as he was drooling on the floor, but Arthur felt rather disrespected.

“At any rate,” Ford chimed in, “I’m sure we can find someone somewhere who wants a pet Earthman. They’re quite rare, after all.”

Now Arthur was properly indignant. “I say, you don’t consider me your pet, do you?”

Ford patted him on the shoulder. “No, no, of course not, mate. But not everyone in the galaxy is as enlightened as I am.” He nodded toward Dieter. “And just look at him.” Dieter was now curled up in the fetal position, sucking half heartedly on the end of his dressing gown belt, making little whimpering noises and muttering the words “KitKat” and “feathers” in an odd accent.

Arthur shrugged. After all, the man had clearly said he hated tea. Perhaps he did need a minder.

***************************************************************

Dieter woke up with the worst hangover of his life. “Take these,” a voice said, handing him two white tablets and a glass of water. The voice seemed friendly enough, so he swallowed the tablets and almost immediately felt better. His vision cleared and his head stopped pounding.

“What the fuck?,” he said, rubbing his hand through his hair. He really needed to stop dropping acid without supervision. “This isn’t my hotel room.”

“No, it’s not,” the voice said. Dieter looked up. It was a blonde woman, seated on a chair. He was on the floor surrounded by a small puddle of drool, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to smooth down the hair he’d just disheveled.

“Um, hi,” he said. She was a bit of a looker. “Is this … your room?”

“It’s the lounge of the Heart of Gold,” she said.

“I thought this was the Westwood Arms Hotel and Conference Centre,” he said.

The woman sighed. “I’m Trillian,” she said. “And this is the spaceship Heart of Gold. You aren’t on Earth anymore, I’m afraid.”

Thoughts swirled in Dieter’s head. He remembered a bit about last night: some guy with two heads and three arms making him a drink; someone mentioning Earth being missing; and either another guy wearing a bathrobe or the world’s worst mirror reflection. “Um … if I’m not on Earth, then I guess there aren’t any KitKats available?”

“No, sorry,” Trillian said. “I might be able to replicate you a KotKat but they aren’t really the same. Mostly because they come from Arcturus Prime and the closest thing to chocolate on that planet is the vomit of a peculiar green dung beetle.”

Dieter felt nauseated, but whether it was the aftermath of whatever chemical was still pickling his brain, or the dung beetle, he couldn’t tell. “Yeah, no, that’s fine,” he said. “So, um, this spaceship …”

Trillian stood up. “You can watch the educational tapes later,” she said. “Right now, you need to get cleaned up. Zaphod put out a classified ad for you and there’d been some interest. The showers are this way.”

Dieter struggled to his feet, swaying lightly. “Um, okay,” he said. “I’m Dieter, by the way. Would you like to have sex with me?” Now that he was sure his head wasn’t going to fall off, he thought he would shoot his shot. Trillian was the most attractive person he’d seen on this ship so far, and he might as well start at the top.

“No,” Trillian said simply. “I don’t think Zaphod would like it much, and besides …” She looked him up and down, her face indicating a certain degree of disgust.

Dieter shrugged. It was like that sometimes.

***************************************

“The Antarian Brain Slugs just want to eat his brains,” Ford said, shaking his head. “We can’t waste a perfectly good endangered species, even if the price is right.”

“But capitalism, man!” Zaphod’s arguments tended to boil down to whatever would get him the most booze and/or sex.

Ford snorted. “There is more to life than money, dear Zaphod.”

“Name one thing.”

“Alcohol.”

“Money can buy it.”

“Sex.”

“Again, money …”

Ford groaned. “Friendship?”

“Friends are ten for a dollar on Jabbux.”

Ford screwed up his face as he thought very hard. It was like watching a seal try to fly. “Inner peace!”

Zaphod laughed. “The monks of Zelus Three have a ten part course you can buy, inner peace and enlightenment guaranteed. I’ve done it six times. I’m ultra-enlightened.”

“Well, anyway, we’re not selling Dieter to the Antarians,” Ford grumbled. “How about this offer?”

Zaphod peered at the screen with one head, while the other was picking its nose. “Hmmm … Fashonia Six. Never been there. Might be good for a laugh. And we can pick up some new clothes for your Earthman while we’re there. That dressing gown is getting a bit tatty.”

“Fashonia Six it is,” Ford said. “Laying in coordinates. Engaging Infinite Improbablity Drive in twenty minutes.” He flicked on the PA system. “All hands, prepare for improbability in twenty minutes. Repeat. Improbability in twenty.”

***********************************************************

“What the fuck?”

Arthur had found that Dieter was quite fond of that sentence. He had said it approximately thirteen times in the past three hours.

“We’re heading somewhere fast,” Arthur explained. “We’d best get to the rubber room.”

“Rubber room?”

“So we don’t hurt ourselves when things go pear shaped,” Arthur said. “And I mean literally pear shaped. Once I went banana shaped and I was terrified of monkeys for a week.” He led the other man down the corridor toward the rubber room. Trillian was already there, checking the integrity of the restraints.

“You can have the deluxe seat,” she told Dieter, “as this is your first time experiencing improbability.”

“Lucky bastard,” Arthur said. “It has a cup holder.” Once, he’d unthinkingly brought his tea (not tea) with him and it had spilled all over the rhinoceros, which had made for an uncomfortable silence, not to mention the tragic loss of tea (not tea).

He and Trillian strapped Dieter into the seat, double checking all the buckles and tie downs and bungee cords. “Is all this really necessary?” Dieter asked.

“You’ll find out,” Trillian said ominously. Arthur simply gave Dieter a cheery thumbs up before taking his own (cup holder-less) seat. He cinched the belts tight and slid his hands into the restraining cuffs.

Zaphod and Ford strolled in, discussing the results of the latest Ultra-Racquetball match. It was a slow point in the sports season.

“T-minus five minutes,” Ford said, as he assumed his seat.

Arthur leaned toward Dieter. “It’s rather fun once you let your mind go mad,” he said. “The first time is the worst. Or the best, depending on how strong your ties to reality are to begin with. I threw up six times. That means my mind was exceptionally dull and boring.”

“T-minus two minutes,” Ford said. “Hang onto your heads, everyone.”

*******************************************

Dieter had experienced most drugs available on Earth, and yet what happened next was beyond anything he had ever seen, felt, smelt, tasted, or heard. Thirteen blue impalas pranced through the room; the fact that three of them were automobiles made the display even more impressive. His hands turned into hamburgers and were devoured by his feet. Arthur became roughly the shape of a large lemon, although his skin was a delicate shade of puce spotted with purple-black blotches. Trillian was riding a one horned lion with ballet shoes on. Zaphod was conversing with a large piece of cardboard. Ford was floating upside down while wearing a skirt made of rhubarb. All of this in just the first four seconds. After that, things got weird.

Dieter’s mind floated freely through the madness. He tasted aquamarine and saw a high C note. Words and feelings drifted past him and he latched onto some of them. A platypus dealt him a hand of poker and he won a stack of plastic chips that turned out to be tiny flying saucers full of minuscule green men wearing blue kilts, who promptly shot him with their ray guns and disappeared. It rained Gatorade and a forest of pickles sprang up around him.

All too soon, a voice began to soothingly chant, “Normality in thirty seconds. Twenty nine. Twenty eight …” By the time the voice had reached “five,” the room was almost back to its original state, save for a slight tinge of lavender and the lingering scent of frogs.

“Whoa,” Dieter said. “I don’t know what that was, but I liked it.”

Arthur goggled at him, his face very pale. There was a dribble of vomit on the collar of his dressing gown. “You … you liked it?”

“Dude, I’ve dropped acid, smoked peyote, drunk ayahuasca, injected stuff some guy in a lab in the back of a panel van cooked up on his Coleman stove,” Dieter said. “But that was the best trip I’ve ever been on.”

Zaphod laughed. “Ford, are you sure you don’t want to trade in your Earthman for this one? He’d be a lot more fun at parties.”

Ford frowned. “I’m rather fond of Arthur, actually. I think I’ll keep him.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Dieter said. “Would you like to have sex with me?”

Ford ignored him and Dieter shrugged. Two down, two to go. He might still get laid, although the idea of settling for Arthur was really dragging him down.

*************************************

Fashonia Six was a small but tasteful planet, close to Fashonia Five, which was much larger and filled with factories where clothing was made from the fibers grown on Fashonia Four. No one talked about Fashonia Three, which was a penal colony for those who had offended the Fashion Police, who were the ultimate authority in the Fashonia system.

“You did send a picture of him, right, Zaphod?” Trillian asked as they walked along the promenade in Guccitown. Everyone was dressed extremely well, which made Arthur and Dieter stand out like very ugly sore thumbs.

“Yeah,” Zaphod said, heads swiveling about to take in the sights. “No accounting for taste, I guess. Maybe they’re doing one of those extreme makeover thingies?”

Dieter was unimpressed. He’d worked in Hollywood for years, been to countless red carpets and after parties and fashion shows, and honestly had no use for fancy clothes. Flannel pants, a comfy tee shirt, Crocs and a bathrobe for chilly evenings was just fine for him. He dressed up for work, of course, because they paid him obscene amounts of money, but it was never really his jam.

Arthur, on the other hand, seemed cowed by the glamorous people passing them by. It could have been because he was wearing actual pajamas and slippers. Dieter had no use for pajamas. Too formal and matchy-matchy. And slippers fell off your feet so easily. Not like Crocs. Switch those babies to sport mode and you could run all day. If you had to. Dieter was not a big fan of running.

“Here is it, number 42,” Ford said. The building was small but made of elaborately carved marble. The door was painted a tasteful shade of pomegranate, to match the potted pomegranate bushes to either side of the entrance.

They went inside to find a cream colored waiting room, with ivory colored chairs, eggshell colored tables and a snow colored rug. A bright green door, painted to match the potted lime trees to either side, led to the interior of the building.

“Welcome to the House of Balthazar,” said a soothing voice. “We will be with you shortly.” Soft jazz began to play, as bland and inoffensive as the decor.

“Posh,” Ford said, looking around. “I hate it.”

The door opened and a young woman with pale lavender hair, which matched her dress, which matched the sprig of lavender pinned to her shoulder, entered the room with a tray of champagne flutes. “Balthazar welcomes you,” she said. “Please, have a sparkling beverage before we enter the inner sanctum.”

To Dieter’s disappointment, the beverage in question was not champagne but rather an insipid lemon-lime soda, almost but not entirely like the cheap 7-Up knockoff he’d drunk as a kid.

When the glasses were empty, the young woman collected them on her tray and led them through the bright green door. The room was empty, save for a table on which a pile of shocking orange fabric had been left in a heap. The woman bowed to them and disappeared through a blue door painted to match the potted blueberry bushes to either side.

They stood awkwardly for a few moments, until a deep voice said, “Welcome to my house.” Dieter looked around, but there was no one else in the room.

“Erm, thank you,” Ford said tentatively.

The voice chuckled. “I see you are confused. Come closer.”

“Closer to what?” Trillian asked.

“To me.” The pile of fabric began to writhe until it had formed an approximation of a mouth. “It’s rather hard to move on my own, so I hope you don’t mind.”

“Is … is the fabric talking to us?” Arthur asked as Zaphod stepped closer.

“Yeah,” Zaphod said. “Totally hoopy. What are you?”

“I am Balthazar,” the fabric said. “I am a sentient form of polyester, brought to life due to an industrial accident involving a power surge from a lightning strike, a radioactive Canopian cuttlefish, and a misplaced ham sandwich. My intimate knowledge of the inner life of fabric has made me a sought-after designer, but alas, my lack of muscles and skeletal infrastructure makes it extremely difficult for me to get around.”

“Cool,” said Zaphod. “But what does that have to do with us? More precisely, with him?” He pointed a thumb at Dieter, who was still trying to decide if this was part of the trip or if reality had shifted way more than usual.

“It has always been my dream, even before I gained sentience, to be a Leisure Suit,” Balthazar said. “A noble purpose of a member of the polyester tribe. And the finest leisure suits have long been known to be those created in the seventh decade of the twentieth century on the planet Earth. This person is an Earthman, and he would be a worthy frame to carry me into the galaxy.”

Dieter blinked. “Wait, you want me to wear you?” He thought about it. It was kinky, but was it the kind of kink he enjoyed?

“Yes,” Balthazar said. “I am willing to pay the asking price for your services, as well as a retainer, food and drink, and sleeping accommodations. In exchange, you will transport me wherever I need to go.”

“Room, board and an allowance,” Dieter mused. “I’m listening.”

Arthur was indignant. “But … but that’s insane.”

“Hey, man, it’s no worse than what I’ve been doing,” Dieter pointed out. “I’m an actor. I wear what they tell me, I stand where they tell me, I say what they tell me. In exchange, I get money and fame, which gets me food and booze and drugs and sex. This deal’s not much different. In fact, it might be better, because Balthazar here will do all the talking. I just have to stand there and look good. I’m really good at that.”

“But a leisure suit? A polyester leisure suit?” Arthur looked perplexed.

“Best of both worlds, dude,” Dieter replied. “It’s a suit, but it’s casual. No tie.” He turned to Balthazar. “I still get to wear my Crocs, right? ‘Cause that’s a deal breaker.”

“Your footwear is your own concern,” Balthazar said. “After all, I want my conveyance to be comfortable. And of course you can wear whatever you like — or nothing at all — at night when we are both resting from the cares of the day.”

“Where do I sign?”

Balthazar shivered and a psychedelic pattern of purple, yellow and blue dots shimmered over his surface. “Whoa!,” said Zaphod. “How’d you do that?”

Balthazar returned to his previous shade of shocking orange. “I told you a cuttlefish was involved in my transformation from mere fabric to sentience. It takes some energy and concentration, but I can change my pigmentation at will.”

“Awesome,” Dieter said. “So, like, a mood suit.” He got a series of blank stares. “You know, like a mood ring? Where the hell were you people in the seventies?”

Arthur blinked. “Oh, yes, that’s right.” He turned to the others and began to explain. “A mood ring was a trinket that changed colors depending on temperature. It was supposed to show the mood of the wearer …”

Here Zaphod cut him off with a wave of two hands. “Yeah, whatever. The main thing is, do I get my finder’s fee?”

“Of course,” said Balthazar. “Margot will write you a check. Margot!”

The young lavender-haired lady came back into the room, with a stack of papers and a large silver and turquoise pen. “I have everything ready, Balthazar,” she said, delicately sliding a portion of him over to clear room on the table for her work. “Excuse me, sir,” she said, flushing slightly, her hands trembling a little. Dieter didn’t really notice, because he was busy checking out her ass. Yeah, maybe he wouldn’t have to settle for Arthur after all, although the idea of what Zaphod could do with two heads and three arms still intrigued him …

********************************************

Arthur was pouting. He was still angry at Zaphod for interrupting his explanation of the mood ring, and even angrier at Ford and Trillian for trying to convince him to trade in his pajamas and dressing gown (which were very comfortable and still smelled like Earth) for something more “fashionable.” Now they were back at the House of Balthazar to say goodbye to Dieter.

“Don’t know why I had to come,” complained Marvin, the android. “Brain the size of a planet and they ask me to attend a farewell party for some apeman.”

“Shut up, Marvin,” Arthur snapped.

“Shut up, Arthur,” said Ford.

Margot greeted them at the door. She was wearing a purple mini skirt with a black leather vest over a lavender blouse. “Welcome to the House of Balthazar,” she said.

“And Dieter,” said Dieter, who was standing behind her in a shocking orange leisure suit over a purple and white patterned shirt. He had one hand on his hip, striking a dramatic pose.

“Yes, and Dieter,” agreed Balthazar, using the breast pocket of the suit as a mouth. “I must say, the freedom I have experienced since joining forces with Dieter has been delightful.”

As Margot left the waiting room to fetch a tray of drinks, Dieter peered over the tops of his sunglasses. “And the amount of sex I’ve been experiencing is also delightful,” he said. “Get this … Margot has a thing for Balthazar. Always has. So she lets me bang her, as long as I wear the jacket.”

“That’s … interesting,” said Arthur.

Dieter nodded. “And the best part is, Balthazar is ace and I’m bi, so from a distance it looks straight but it’s really queer as fuck. I mean, is there even a word for someone who’s attracted to polyester?”

“Polysexual?,” said Zaphod.

Dieter laughed. “Yeah, I like it. Ace plus bi plus poly equals good times for me.”

“It amuses him,” said Balthazar, “and brings joy to dear Margot, who has worked for me all these years without uttering a word about her feelings toward me. I am quite fond of her, in my way.”

“So, all’s well that ends well, I guess,” said Ford, as Margot returned with actual champagne this time. He clapped Arthur on the shoulder. “Sure you don’t want anything before we leave the planet, mate? Maybe some nice trousers or a sport coat?”

“Balthy can whip you up something,” Dieter said. “On the house.”

Both Balthazar and Margot quickly shushed him. “For a generous discount,” Margot said firmly. Dieter shrugged and tossed back another glass of champagne.

“No, I’m fine,” Arthur said. “Although I could use a decent cup of tea.”

Everyone laughed as though he’d told a hilarious joke, but as usual, Arthur was dead serious. Really, who could honestly joke about tea?

#pedro pascal#fanfic #fan fiction #year of creation!#year of fandom crossovers #hitchhikers guide to the galaxy #arthur dent #zaphod beeblebrox #ford prefect #trillian #marvin the paranoid android #funny #the bubble #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x oc #fashion #leisure suits #pride 2023

37 notes · View notes

cbk1000 · 1 year

Text

Posting another preview of the vet fic, because I have around 43,000 words written, but I think I’m going to wait till I’m finished to post anything because I want to see exactly how long it’s going to be (estimating in the 60,000 range...that’s a hopeful estimate lmao) so I can break it up appropriately. It wouldn’t be moral to post this one as a one-shot, I don’t think, so I’ll have to split it up into a few parts. lmao

Arthur snatched the phone back. There was a long silence whilst he scrolled, and Merlin packed up his ultrasound machine. “What about this one?” he asked at last, handing back the phone.

“Those are my nostrils. I was faffing about with my phone and accidentally took a picture up my nose and obviously didn’t realise or forgot to delete it. Why would I put that on a dating profile? You can’t even see my face.”

“Seems an obvious advantage over the other photos, then.”

Merlin flicked him in the head.

“Do you really think women are going to look at these pictures and tinder with you, or whatever you do on these things?”

“That’s not even the right dating app. It’s right in the name, Arthur. But, yeah. Women. Or blokes.”

There was a laden pause. “What do you mean, ‘Or blokes?’” Arthur asked.

And Merlin, bending over the bag of equipment with his heart in his mouth, said, in a voice quite out of rhythm with his pulse, “I mean the literal words that came out of my mouth.”

There was another pause; no longer merely heavy, but corpulent. He went on packing up his kit, waiting as if for the executioner, to see whether the next moment would end or absolve him.

“Are you gay?” Arthur blurted out.

And Merlin looked up, no longer in anticipation, but with that need which is in the human animal, to gawp at what is terrible: though he was looking at stupidity, rather than a car accident. “No,” he said, enunciating very slowly. “I said ‘or’. Or is a conjunction; it’s used to link alternatives. ‘Tea or coffee.’ ‘I’ll cycle, or walk.’ Meaning both are acceptable, possible choices.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said with such withering sarcasm he very nearly elevated the response to art. “I’m aware what words mean.”

“Then why did I have to explain it slowly and with very careful articulation?”

“Because you talk like you’ve a mouthful of gravel.”

“That’s from you colonising pricks standing your jackboot on my face and forcing it into the ground.”

“You grew up in England.” Arthur looked away, and scratched his nose. “So you’re--bisexual? Pansexual? I don’t know that many of the--of the sexuals.”

There was a weight coming off him. He realised Arthur was going to be stupid, not bigoted, and said, “I don’t really care that much about the label, but bisexual’s what I tell people.”

There was another pause whilst Arthur dithered about, trying to decide where it was appropriate to put one’s hands in front of men who liked men; and stuffing them in his pockets, asked, sounding extraordinarily casual about it, which tone he had achieved with stunning effort, “What kind of men do you like?”

“What?”

“Well, if you like my sister, I assume your taste in men is similarly atrocious. I was only curious.” He scratched at his nose again.

“Erm, well, I don’t have--a list or anything like that. Fit men, who aren’t total berks.”

“What does that mean?” Arthur demanded. “‘Fit men’ could mean anything. Especially coming from someone with no standards.”

“Fine. Percival. He’s an example of someone I’d climb like a tree.”

“Percival?” Arthur’s hands came out of his pockets, and grabbed the stall door between them, as if he would need it for support, in his time of need. “He’s too big.”

“All right, fine, you’re so good at being attracted to men, pick someone fitter. You think you can be a better gay than me?”

“Well, apparently, it’s not difficult.” Arthur leant his upper body on the stall door, whilst Merlin finished packing up the bag, holding out his hand for it to be passed over to him in the aisle.

“Ok, if you weren’t straight, what kind of guy would you find attractive, then?”

“Well, I haven’t really thought about it, of course, but I’d have to say, someone athletic, good with horses, roots for Manchester U, like a correct person, good-looking. Sophisticated.”

“Blonde? Blue-eyed?” Merlin asked, leaning on the door beside him, so that their elbows nearly touched.

“Can’t go wrong with that.”

“So you’re saying you’d be gay for yourself.”

“I’m only saying anyone with objectively good taste would be.”

Merlin cupped his chin in his hand, and looked up from under his lashes, which he used as a signal to indicate he was about to flirt, and the other person had better be ready for it. Then, instead of flattery, he delivered a little fine ridicule: “Except you forgot the bit about being a knob. ‘Aryan ideal’ isn’t really much of a selling point.”

“I also said, ‘good with horses, roots for Manchester U, sophisticated, good-looking, athletic.’ Could add ‘funny’--”

“Looking,” Merlin interrupted.

“Funny, good taste in books--”

“That’s the only one I don’t take issue with.”

“Would you stop interrupting me whilst I explain why you’re wrong and should feel bad about it?”

Merlin held up his hands. “Sorry. Do go on. Why exactly am I being bisexual wrong? Could use the enlightenment. I’ve been doing it a while and never knew I was bollixing it.”

Arthur ticked off points on his fingers. “I can cook; I’m actually properly proportioned--”

“You are so jealous of Percival. He could put your head in the crook of his arm, flex, and stove in your fat head, and you hate it. Next to him, you look like you’re seven stone soaking wet.”

“Are you blind? I’m twice the size of you--”

“You’re shorter, and I wrestle cows for a living, office boy.”

“Add ‘delusional’ to your long list of faults. The only reason you’re bisexual, is because you had to expand your options beyond a single gender, or else you’d die alone. You had to add several more million fish to the sea in hopes of finding a single one deranged enough to not flee on sight.”

Merlin dangled his hands over the side of the stall door. “Sounds like projection.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘Sounds like projection!’” he shouted, as if Arthur were old. “I’ve never had any trouble getting anyone to climb on a dark-haired 6’ manual labourer whose job is to treat sick animals. If you’re having problems, maybe it’s your hair?”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Arthur demanded.

“Nothing, really, just assume you get prickly when it’s mussed. Can’t imagine women like hearing, ‘For the sake of my hair, it’s missionary, or nothing, you will not touch my hair in the throes of passion, you will not, in the throes of passion, mar my delicate posh boy skin, which I bathe daily in La Mear and caviar--’”

“It’s La Mer.”

“I knew you’d know that.”

#writing #fic #preview #merthur #spoiler alert: arthur is not straight #and he's the fish degranged enough to not flee on sight #lmao

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love-liberty21 · 2 years

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Van Helsing yesterday:

I've just been thinking: If I staked Lucy right now, it would be the easiest way out, but Jack and Arthur are friends and Jack probably couldn't keep this a secret and even if so, their friendship would suffer from it. And then Arthur might blame me for killing his wife by burying her alive and blame Jack for bringing me in. In any case, he would spent the rest of his life in doubt and that wouldn't be good. I've seen how much better Jonathan Harker was dealing with horrors once he was certain they were real. I have to do the same for Arthur and his american friend, too, while we're at it. Knowing might be bad, but not knowing is definitely worse.

But I can't have Lucy be out and about tonight, that would endanger children, even if she hasn't permanently harmed one yet, and that would be irresponsible. So I will make sure through religious symbols and garlic that she can't leave tonight. Which will also be good, because she will be even more keen to get out tomorrow and then Arthur and Quincey will see with their own eyes. And if they believe, then they also can help hunt down the actually dangerous vampire, before he hurts even more people.

Seeing as I've been overly confident in my vampire kit before and Lucy paid the price for it, I will stay here at the cemetery, to be absolutely on the safe side. She won't get out while I'm here. Perhaps Dracula will show up, so I'm leaving Jack all information, just in case I die tonight.

What some people seem to have heard:

Ha, I'm an irresponsible old man and now that I have Jack convinced, I might as well drag this out a little longer and do harm to Arthur and Quincey, too. Who cares if kids are being eaten! I'm Van Helsing, I do what I want!

#honestly how do you do these mental flips?#He's finally coming completely clean and now thats wrong too?#he is doing absolutely everything he can to make sure no one will suffer more from the one day delay #and he's right to tell Art #especially after we just learned from Jonathan that he handles the truth a thousand times better now he knows it's true #dracula daily #abraham van helsing #september 27

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squidproquoclarice · 2 years

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Yeehawgust Day 31: Git Along Little Dogies

August 1890

Rainbow Junction, Nebraska

Bessie understood losing a child, or at least, she did in some sense. She and Hosea had lost some babies, one of them achingly close to being born, and every time, she’d cried. With George, there was an actual grave. One she still thought about, even near twenty years later. Pieces of her heart and soul carved out and stitched together only with the most deliberate care, leaving the scar all the same.

But even she didn’t fully know what it was like. What she’d lost had been mostly the dreams, the hopes, the potential. Arthur…he’d lost a child fully in the world, named and known and to judge from helping raise her sister’s kids years ago, one who’d already very much started to show a clear personality and self at four. No, technically three. Arthur had last seen him alive at three. Dreams and potential, yes, but so much heartbreaking reality as well.

Three months now since he’d come back and said he found them buried, and soon enough he once again smiled and laughed and did all the usual things within their small family, but she saw that emptiness in his eyes when he thought nobody was looking. Knew that I’m fine facade for the act it was.

Something else there too, something bleak and hard that unsettled her, but if he wouldn’t talk about his boy and the woman who’d borne him, he wasn’t going to talk about whatever happened afterwards. She knew Arthur so well now after almost thirteen years, learned his moods and tempers and kindnesses, but he’d gone somewhere she couldn’t follow.

He’d always tended to ride off for a while to be by himself, even before he’d been making trips to see Isaac, but now sometimes those trips ended with him coming back drunk or else in the local jail for getting into a bare-knuckle brawl. Things that would have felt like youthful idiotic high spirits in a man with energy and temper in abundance now felt like something so different.

Dutch said Arthur just needed work. Bessie frankly thought Dutch was full of shit on that point, but wouldn’t say so. She could see he was so impatient for Arthur to just come back to himself. As usual, trying to nudge things along, make them into the reality he wanted, and he probably meant well by it, but it was like trying to force a man who’d been gutshot onto his horse and demanding he go holler Git along you little dogies at the cattle and round them all up, claiming it was just for his own good.

She found him out in the barn, on the heap of feed sacks they’d put in to start to prepare for winter. A book opened and placed facedown on his chest, and him instead staring up at the ceiling as if it had something profound written on it.

She took a deep breath, and knew this would probably either help or shatter him completely, but she couldn’t just stand by helplessly and wait. Or shove more work at him like Dutch. Or shove more books at him like Hosea. Or cluck and fuss over him like Susan.

Arthur heard the whimper from the puppy she was carrying and sat up, though he put the book aside. Still a man who valued reading enough to not carelessly throw a book to the floor and risk damaging it. Sat there, looking at her and said, “Found another wayward critter, huh?” An edge of rueful humor to it, the self-deprecation so familiar to her.

“Yeah, in town. This one was the runt. Man was threatening to drown him, if you can believe it.” True enough. Though it had been in a weirdly joking way that she knew wasn’t serious, but which she couldn’t find funny all the same.

“I can believe it. World’s a shitty place, Bessie. My pa threatened to drown me plenty of times.” Said with an offhanded humor, but she couldn’t find it funny either. The puppy snuffled, wiggled, cuddling closer to her. “Figured maybe you wouldn’t mind a late birthday present.”

His brows knit together in confusion. “You and Hosea got me that nice shaving kit.”

“Now, Arthur. I took the poor boy on and we all know who’s best with animals in this family, and don’t think I don’t see you petting everyone’s dogs and cats given half a chance. So please just play along with me here.”

Also not untrue. But hopefully he wouldn’t see what lay beneath all that. The notion she’d had, looking at that poor last remaining puppy, that what Arthur truly needed was someone who needed him, someone to give some love to, someone to give him some happiness back. Yes, Boadicea did some of that, but people always had a more complicated dynamic with their horses, given the dependency of a working relationship involved. Dogs and cats? It could be much simpler.

He sat back a bit, shoulders easing, and she saw the faint twitch of a smile. One of those moments he’d managed to forget the pain, to let it recede, and she thanked God for that. She’d made the right call here. “You got me there, I suppose.”

“Besides, it’s been a while since we had a dog. What, five years?”

“Seven. We lost Midnight seven years back.” A gleam of humor entered his eyes. “It’s fine, we got little Johnny as a pet instead. Now, he shits where he ought, but he still ain’t gotten the hang of not yapping all the time, though.”

“Arthur.” She couldn’t help but chuckle all the same. “Here. Besides, don’t I owe you for beating me at dominos this winter? I always said we needed something to mark the occasion should you ever manage it.”

He was smart enough to know some of what she was doing, but thankfully, he seemed to believe it was just her being a soft touch, and both of them knowing he was every bit as much of one when it came to animals. She handed over the dog, his fur the color of a newly-minted penny, and watched him cradle the puppy close to his chest. Already half in love, by the look of him, and laughing at the dog’s boundless energy. “OK, there, Copper. Yeah, you’re a good boy.”

“Copper?”

“Coloring. And hell, we got enough lawmen sniffing out our trail at times–might be nice to have a friendly copper around for once.”

Copper seemed to agree, licking Arthur’s face. She felt a spark of hope at that.

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2022 #rdr2 #bessie matthews #arthur morgan #copper the dog #cw: child loss #thanks for another year of yeehawgust y'all

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ambriel-angstwitch · 9 months

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Waiting Room is Merthur Coded

If you were a teacher, I would fail your class Take it over and over 'til you noticed me

In this hypothetical situation Arthur is a teacher which implies power over Merlin which in a way he often did. It also speaks to the way Merlin would fail at his own goals (making magic free) in order to keep Arthur

If you were a waiting room, I would never see a doctor I would sit there with my first-aid kit and bleed

Merlin is ridiculously self sacrificing when it comes to Arthur. He would die over over again just to ensure Arthur’s safety. But having the First Aid kit symbolizes that even with that self sacrificing nature he doesn’t want to die. He still tries to survive even if he doesn’t put as much priority as he does Arthur.

I wanna be the power ballad that lifts you up and holds you down

Merlin wants to affect Arthur as much as Arthur affects him. He wants to be able to lift Arthur up to the heights he wants to achieve but he also wants to hold Arthur back from the stupid or brave decision that would get him killed.

I wanna be the broken love song that feeds your misery

Their lives were a broken love song. They didn’t get a happy ending. Arthur instead ended up with Gwen and then he died.

And I can wish all that I want, but it won't bring us together Plus, I know whatever happens to me, I know it's for the better

Merlin could wish for them to be together but Gwen was Arthur’s destiny. Then Arthur died and all Merlin wanted was for him to come back. But Merlin all along has just been destinies play thing, whatever happens to him is “for the better”

And when broken bodies are washed ashore Who am I to ask for more, more, more?

This could be interpreted as Merlin wondering why he gets to live when all of his friends have just become broken bodies. It could also been seen as him being self deprecating with commentary on how he’s lost everyone he’s cared about but what has he done to deserve to ask for anything else.

But you're breathing in my open mouth

Brings to mind imagery of CPR, which is a life giving procedure where someone uses the air in their lungs to put air in yours. They’ve both risked their life in order to save the other on multiple occasions.

You're the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out

In contrast to the last line comments on how in a way they destroy each other but only through the others choice. One may be the weapon but the other is the one who wields them, they can only hurt each other if they let them. Arthur may have hurt Merlin by continuing to be against magic but that was only through Merlin’s suggestion, if Merlin had ever showed Arthur it was good he would have believed him.

I wanna make you drive all night just because I said, "Maybe you should come over"

They both wish for the other to care about them as much as they do them. The sad thing is they do, it’s just that the other doesn’t see it. Merlin does magic and fights for Arthur in the shadows because he’s afraid of what would happen if people knew about his magic. Arthur cares for Merlin too, he’ll go on dangerous quests for him and he’ll speak out against his father for him but as time went on this clear love for Merlin seemed to fade but he still valued his opinion above all else. But Merlin failed to see how much love these actions showed

Wanna make you fall in love as hard as my poor parents' teenage daughter She'll be the best you ever had if you let her

Once again he wants that returned feeling. A lot of people do think that Merlin was a teenager at the start of the series. Merlin and Arthur would have been great together if they had just been able to establish their relationship. They both longed for something they thought they couldn’t have

I know it's for the better Know it's for the better Know it's for the better…

As the stanza of know it’s for the better repeats over and over again it seems as though it gets more desperate. Merlin is trying to convince himself that it was for the better. I also find it interesting how without the I it can end up sounding like “no, it’s for the better” like the person is having an argument. Which connects to the first point because he could be having an argument with himself.

Know it’s for the better. I never grew up with you…

Arthur and Merlin never got to grow old together. Though they did get to grow up together a bit as ten years is a long time, but in those ten years a lot of bad things happened. So Merlin tries to convince himself that maybe it’s for the better that they didn’t get to grow old together.

… and your not my waiting room.

Arthur is not Merlin’s waiting room because Merlin doesn’t get to abide in Arthur instead Merlin is left constantly waiting for Arthur.

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spirallabyrinthpodcast · 2 years

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Good morning I am mad! Like y’all said I am extremely appreciative of Cassie providing us this piece of media for free. Which I heard would be made into a physical book, which means she’ll probably get a lot of cash from it, anyway! So some fans should stop using that as an excuse, for it being a mediocre piece of media at best. The writing was great and the artwork was wonderful! But The plot could’ve been thawed out better. First of all, I left with more questions then I started out with. Like could Kit see Rupert? Was Andrew and Arthur aware of Rooper’s existence? If they were, why did Arthur came back to take the statues out of the garden? And many many many more other questions, we should’ve gotten the answers to. Second of all, this Kit and Ty thing is getting exhausting! SOBH is supposed to give us a look into the grove of the TWP team, warming them up to take the Baton from Julian and Emma. Like what COHF and Shadowhunters academy did for are main characters in Dark Artifices, with the wedding ceremony and Tessa teasing the potential, for a new Herondale. But no! They spend most, of what was supposed to be a opportunity for us to know them better, pining after each other! Kit’s character growth seem rough and out of nowhere, he didn’t really solve the kidnapping, Julian did. It leaves me fearful of what would happen when Julian is unable to save the day yet once again! Who is Kit and Ty without their romantic feelings for each other?

I’m in raged about how Ty’s struggle as a Neuro diversion person, living in a unyielding and rigid society, was once again sideline for someone else’s problem! But, I’m not going to further with that line of thought because there has been so many on here who’s been saying the same thing for months and years now! CC never listens!

To add the cherry on top of the proverbial pie, all the sudden, out of nowhere Jamie ( a character who we never given much thought to) is missing. Can she please tie up the loose ends first! This is so messy! It reminds me of a five-year-old, eating a cupcake, with the cream and cake splattered all over the table, creating a catastrophic catastrophe! At least the five years old is cute😂. A person going missing, on top of everything else on the other hand is not.

Thank you so much for listening to me rant and I’m so sorry about the long paragraph.

Omg, Anon!

First, it needs to be acknowledged that the opening to this ask had us dying (what a mood!) 😂 Bestie, we are with you.

Never feel like you need to apologize for sending a rant <3 we live for rants around here

Here’s a rant in return (as a bitter and salty treat):

On Criticism ...

The bit about it being sold and therefore that argument being moot is interesting, because it was never intended to be sold, and she can’t very well go back and edit it to make it worth the money we fully intend to spend on it at this point. You do have a good point, but at the same time, it is still free content in that purchasing a hard copy won’t provide anyone with anything that isn’t available to them online.

When it comes down to it, the issue is less about whether Cassie is profiting off of SoBH, and more so the fact that she is a published author who opens herself up to criticism through her profession. Her content isn’t ‘safe’ based on the revenue it generates. This was still a very fun project and experience, but it’s okay to criticize. It’s not a personal attack or an attack on her writing/content, which is something that is important for us to understand so that we don’t feel obligated to come up with excuses or defenses for the person behind the writing.

On Questions & No Answers ...

The point about ending with more questions than we started with is probably one of the most frustrating parts honestly. These in-between projects are essentially meant to fill gaps, aka answer questions, and instead we ended up with out-of-place fluff that didn’t exactly fit into canon — yes, we’re still mad and confused about how Arthur and Andrew could have lived in Blackthorn Hall in the canon timeline. Plus, we get no definitive information on Rupert or why he’d be trapped, which makes him being the ghost feel lackluster after the fact. We are Big Mad™.

On the TWP Gang ...

As for Kit, Ty and the passing of the baton, we get you. We’ve been a broken record on the point that the Kit Pain Train™ took way too long of a trip in this project. Kit’s character development wasn’t mingled into the story as well as it should have been, which lands on the fact that his arc in SoBH was tacked on to expand the plot after Chain of Thorns was pushed back.

It wasn’t terrible, but it definitely didn’t get the attention or drift off that it should’ve — which, as you said, could have been achieved if Kit did anything to actually help the Mina situation aside from getting bodied by Mother Hawthorn. He takes initiative, which is something, but to have him be the catalyst for success rather than Julian (or have him work more actively WITH Julian on a plan), would’ve hit much harder in a narrative sense. (There’s at least a lot to look forward to here, though, as we’ll get to see the growth of Kit’s leadership skills etc. from a better vantage point once TWP starts.)

The same goes for Ty and Dru. If Cassie genuinely wanted to have SoBH set up TWP (which is essentially what it did), they should’ve been given more of an active role, as well. Yes, Ty built the ghost sensor and helped with ley lines, but Dru never once interacted with anyone outside of Kit.

We feel like Ty being neurodivergent/autistic gets sidelined, as well as him as a character, because Cassie doesn’t have the time to do it or him justice. She’d rather push it back for TWP when she can dedicate the proper research and commitment to portray him correctly — honorable but cheap when you still have him lingering in the background.

On THAT Ending ...

The catastrophic catastrophe of ending on this last installment indeed! This is something we will discuss much more in our episode this week, but it would have been much more satisfying to end this in a way that rounded out Secrets of Blackthorn Hall, rather than create a new loose end for a character whose name had only been mentioned once before throughout the entire story, and whom no one really give two shits about other than Dru (including both the characters and the fandom lol).

It does set up the transition into TWP in a way that might make sense if (a) TWP wasn’t so damn far away, (b) we felt and or understood more about the gravity of that, and (c) Cassie had made mention of him more throughout SoBH.

Fin ...

In case you needed evidence that we live for rants … lol clearly we too have a lot of thoughts on this!! Thank you for giving us the opportunity to go a little insane <3 and we honestly appreciate you sending your rant our way. If you ever have any other thoughts, anon, we’d love to hear them!

Bry & Jules 🧡

#krp asks #krp #sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #dru blackthorn #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #jaime rosales #twp #the wicked powers #chain of thorns #rupert blackthorn #tsc

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