#i rarely scribble objects and the like and its For A Reason | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

obeiii-mee · 4 years

Note

Hi there! If its okay, could i ask for headcannons of the brothers finding out MC is an Artist? Something like, finding there sketchbook or napkins w doodles on them jfjdjs Or maybe they catch MC glancing at them alot while trying to draw them? hfjd Ty!! Your writing is really good~

Of course it’s OK! I’ve always liked the idea of MC having a really interesting hobby and teaching the brothers about it. I feel like all the brothers would be very supportive of them, even if they all had various reactions to their hobby but I really love writing wholesome moments like that. Sorry this took longer to come out, I made them really long to make up for it!

Also thank you. Your compliment means a lot :)

————————————-

The Brothers’ reactions to MC being an artist:

Lucifer:

-Well if you’re going to glance at him every two minutes, he’s bound to notice

-I mean, you’re pretty damn obvious

-Lucifer got pretty used to you whipping out your sketchbook whenever you could

-So for you to start doodling in his office while he worked wasn’t exactly unheard of

-He caught you staring at him before looking back down at your drawing, continuing your series of furious scribbles

-Now you piqued his interest

-“You seem very focused there love. What are you drawing?”

-Scared the crap out of you because he rarely ever talks when he’s working

-You were reluctant to show him but Lucifer has his insisting face on

-When you passed him the sketchbook, he momentarily froze

-Your drawing was so detailed and full of emotion, capturing him slumped over his desk, exhausted but determined to finish the work he’s been assigned

-He was so surprised and stunned, for a second, he forgot to breathe

-“It’s not exactly one of my best drawings yet but-“

-“You never fail to impress me MC.”

-He suspected you were drawing him but he wasn’t expecting this much effort to be put into it

-He would definitely keep all your drawings of him

-Loves all your work but secretly adores your sketches of him best

-Lucifer would occasionally look over your shoulder while you sketch, taking a peek at what you’re drawing and smile to himself

-He’s never felt this much pride for someone else before

Mammon:

-Was pissed you would rather spend time with an object rather than him

-It annoyed him at first because he couldn’t tell if you were listening to him or not while you had your nose stuck in your sketchbook

-Basically, he was jealous of a sketchbook

-You can’t do that Mammon, that’s Levi’s thing

-So one day he decided to see what the fuck was so great about that giant notebook you always have with you

-He turned your entire room upside down searching for the damn thing before finding it

-He flipped through it and I’m sure the entire House of Lamentation could hear his gasp

-You drew him for pages and pages in all sorts of positions and styles and he was a flustered tomato going through them

-You willingly drew him? The scum of a demon who could never do anything right unless it involved money? You put your time and effort into these sketches and doodles despite him being condescending and a dick at times?

-Excuse me but this man is already head over heels in love with you, you can’t keep giving him reasons to fall for you

-He was so engrossed into your work that he didn’t notice you behind him

-“Mammon why is there a mess in my room-“

-“HOLY SHI-AHHH!!!”

-Too embarrassed to even think of an excuse for going through your shit

-“Ah those...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have drawn you without your permission Mammon-“

-“Are ya kiddin’ me? MC, I feel insulted that you didn’t tell me about this sooner. Can...Can I keep some of ‘em??”

-Now he insists that you draw him as often as possible and would even pose for you (he loves the attention let’s be real)

-He wants to see all of your drawings and will endlessly support you

-Thought about using your skill as a way to make money because art can be very expensive

-But in the end, he dropped the idea

-Why would he sell something so precious to him??

Levi:

-He probably has a sketchbook too

-You guys draw Ruri-chan together in your own styles

-Levi always insists that you’re much better at drawing than him tho

-Your talent makes him a little jealous but at the same time he’s fascinated

-Was so surprised when he found out you were into sketching

-Levi was even more surprised when you showed him all the drawings you’ve worked on for your favourite anime and video game characters

-OK but how come you’re so perfect? Not only are you a lovely person that is willing to watch anime with him without insulting his opinions but you can draw? W...h...a...t...?

-He requests several sketches of ‘The Tale of the Seven Lords’ characters and will actually tape them to his wall

-Some of them are right on his Ruri-chan shelf

-“Hey normie, do you...do you mind teaching me how to draw? I want to learn.”

-Is 100% determined to learn how to properly sketch from you

-You started drawing him as well, usually while he games

-You better stop, he’ll have a nosebleed if you keep being so nice to him!

-Draw him as an anime character and he will start fangirling

-“Phew. OK I’m finished.”

-“What did you draw?”

-“Hentai.”

-“This. Is. A. Masterpiece.”

-Will proudly show your work to his brothers (usually the same drawing more than five times)

-What did an otaku like him do to deserve you??

Satan:

-He found out you were an artist fairly quickly

-I meant he found tissues with doodles you left behind everywhere

-He kept all of them

-It was so refreshing for him to see you so invested in your drawings the same way he is in his reading

-You’re still under the impression you’re being sneaky by drawing him while he has his nose in his books

-You ended up finally gathering enough courage to show him one of your portraits of him

-He had a reaction similar to Lucifer’s really

-Praise!

-He made your drawing into a bookmark

-Idk how but he did

-You leave him a few doodles of you and him being all lovey dovey and he absolutely adores them

-Will lose his marbles if anyone says anything remotely negative about your style or talent

-Draw him fluffy animals pls he will literally have them framed and fixed up in his room

-Also if you draw any of his brothers (specifically Lucifer let’s be real) in a silly way he will actually start snorting with laughter

-You sketch him pretty damn often and he can’t really complain

-It’s really peaceful when you two are in the library and you’re working on your doodling while he reads aloud to you

-Buys you equipment like pens and pencils and even sketchbooks when he knows you’re running out

-He’s really delighted when you come over to show him your drawings

-Once he caught you staring at a cat as you started sketching it

-He actually didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much

Asmo:

-Noisy little fucker that he is and in need of drama, he looked through your sketchbook

-Thought it was a diary at first but nope

-Imagine his surprise when he found pages upon pages of drawings of his brothers and him

-Except his weren’t really a surprise

-He’s gorgeous of course you would want to draw him

-But oh my God, do you realise how much he values art??

-I know he looks as if he only thinks about sex but he definitely has a thing for creativity and art like painting and photography

-“MC darliiiing~? Why didn’t you tell me you can draw?”

-He actually shrieks at how well you’ve captured his beauty

-He insists that they look like actual pictures of him

-Takes several pictures of all of them and posts them on DevilGram

-A bit salty when you drawing anything else but him

-However, he can’t deny that you’re one of the most talented individuals he ever met

-He comes up to you every day and lractically begs you to draw him

-One time you came in your room to find him naked and asking you to draw him

-Is actually kinda good at drawing himself

-Specifically people

-He has enough experience exploring the human body so he surprisingly enough, knows a thing or two when it comes to body proportions

-“MC draw me like one of your french girls~”

-I’m sorry I had to do that

-He also likes the attention he’s getting when he poses for you

-He may think he’s the most beautiful being in all three realms but he definitely thinks you’re the second

-So he often offers to draw you too

-He likes having cozy chats with you while you draw

Beel:

-You left your sketchbook behind in the kitchen with him

-Mammon needed your assistance to get down from where Lucifer hanged him after one of his failed money schemes

-He knocked a glass of milk nearby it and had a panic attack for a minute

-Legitimately thought he ruined the whole thing

-Was actually about ready to cry because he knew how important your sketchbook was to you

-Looked through it just to make sure there were no splotches or anything

-To say he was relieved when he realised it was fine would be an understatement

-He was kinda drawn to your sketches, most of them carefully drawn and expressive, even some of the ones you scribbled out

-One specific drawing caught his eye though

-You drew him and Belphie together, with his twin brother’s head resting on his shoulder while Beel ate

-He was mesmerised by your talent and by your thoughtfulness

-Beel felt bad about it but he kept looking through your sketches, enchanted by everything in it

-You drew him and his brothers several times

-It’s safe to say the discovery of your drawings brightened his day

-Gave back your sketchbook later

-He apologised for going through it without your permission more than he needed to

-You had to accept his apology because he looked like a kicked puppy

-Feels very honoured whenever you let him look at your work

-Is more than happy to pose for you!

-But that might be a bit of a problem seeing as he tends to move around a lot

-“Whoa, that looks just like me! The food I’m eating looks really realistic too...which is making me hungry. Let’s go to Hell’s Kitchen, you can finish this there!”

-Supportive bean

-You gave him a family sketch of him and all of his brothers once

-Normally, he only likes gifts he can eat

-But he treasures that drawing more than food at times

-“This...this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me! Thank you MC! But uh, someone’s missing in this drawing.”

-“Ah shit, who did I miss?”

-“You.”

-If anything ever happens to Beel or his happiness I swear to Lord Diavolo-

Belphie:

-OK but you left your notebook just sitting there right next to him???

-How do you expect him not to look through it?

-Belphie doesn’t care much for privacy

-And he doesn’t exactly have morals either

-He didn’t even know you were into drawing

-Which to be fair, wasn’t scandalous considering he sleeps 20 hours a day

-But he wants to be more involved in your interests so that’s why he took initiative with your sketchbook

-Idk what he was expecting but definitely not a sketch of him staring back at him

-His heart skipped a beat but I don’t even know if demons have hearts

-The cheeky little shit took pictures and may or may not have made on your drawings of him his wallpaper

-Most of the drawings were of him sleeping, surprising...absolutely no one

-“So that’s what you’re up to whenever I go to sleep huh? So cute~”

-But besides all that, he is really touched

-I mean, if there’s anyone undeserving of your love and respect is the piece of shit of who tried to kill you

-Yet here you are, continuously showering him with affection and now this

-Probably spent hours looking at your sketchbook while you were at R.A.D

-Didn’t say anything to you when you came back except handing your notebook back to you

-Though he was less of a smartass and more affectionate for the rest of the day

-Next morning, you took the liberty of waking up before him and sketching him again

-He grabbed your arm halfway through your doodling and grinned at you from under the covers

-“Drawing me again huh? You won’t mind me doing this while you’re at it then right?”

-Now he’s sleeping in your lap

-Whenever you show him your work, he makes a small approving noise but he’s seriously impressed

-Draw Lucifer or Lord Diavolo in any offensive manner and he will actually start giggling

-Gets all huffy puffy when you draw his brothers instead of him (we all know Beel is the exception)

-I may have a thing for Belphegour

Al~

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #⭐️ requests #☂️ demon brothers #🕯 general

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jenoptimist · 3 years

Text

request:

✨Can I request something with haechan ✨

✮ Pairing: donghyuck x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: adventure | fantasy | fluff

✮ Word Count: 7.2k

♡ Yakult says: sorry this took so long nonie! i do hope that you enjoy it, even though it’s, uh, probably not what you had in mind rip

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The vial of the yarrow flower essence that you were brewing had reached the perfect temperature, finally allowing you to pour it into the cauldron with the point of your index finger. The remaining ingredient hadn’t been brought to you yet but you knew that Chenle and Jisung, the most recent additions to your ragtag coven, were on their way.

Behind you, the others were speaking to one another in hushed, panicked voices but you didn’t want to think negatively. Yes, you were under pressure. Yes, he had been taken a week prior but Minhyung would be fine; he was voted as the head of your coven for a reason. Jeno was doing a great job as his substitute but you could tell that he was under severe stress–his training wasn’t completed yet after all.

You spun around when the door opened. Chenle and Jisung barged in, both looking a little worse for wear. Chenle dodged the others and made a beeline towards you, opening his satchel to retrieve the golden silk pouch. Jisung collapsed on your coach, releasing a groan that had Jaemin - who was highly proficient in healing magic - jumping to his feet in order to tend to him immediately.

“Hopefully this is enough,” Chenle said as he placed the pouch gently on top of your outstretched palm. With a groan that matched Jisung’s, he clutched his side and added, “there were so many after it.” When you gave him your thanks, he lazily saluted at you before staggering over to the couch, dropping beside Jisung the moment he was a mere centimetres away from it. Renjun was quick to follow him.

Your eyes scanned the room until you locked stares with Jeno, who nodded at you. Quickly spinning around, you sat down in front of your desk and get to work. You took an extreme amount of care while you funneled the fine and shimmery powder-like material. Although it was a slightly difficult feat, considering just how light it really was, you managed to succeed in making sure none of it would be blown away somehow. Stardust was a rare thing; it could only be obtained when a shooting star occurred which, unfortunately, was highly uncommon and have been for centuries. The Universe must have been in you favor because when Chenle used his Vision to see whether or not you would be able to obtain the necessary ingredients the first time around, he gave you a dejected negative. It was only a few hours later when he was granted a Vision that showed him and Jisung managing to collect the stardust. Thinking back to their conditions, you didn’t want to know what measures they had to take to ensure that they were the ones who had gotten it.

With one last stir, the pale colored mixture was complete. Waiting with a bated breath, you stared at the cauldron with impatience. Apparently the mixture was supposed to provide an object that would be both warm and bright that could be used against those who kidnapped Minhyung.

“Well?” Jaemin asked curiously from somewhere behind you, presumably still attending to whatever injuries Jisung had been subjected to.

Your mouth twisted. “Nothing’s happened.” You stretched your hand out, thought of the particular book you wanted and once it was in your grasp, you flipped through the pages to find the potion you used. “We’ve done everything it says here.” You sighed as you dropped your book on the desk. “I don’t know where I went wrong.”

A hand was placed on your shoulder. “It’s alright, y/n,” Jeno said soothingly. He peered over you shoulder so that he could inspect the page that it was opened on. “What does this say?” He asked curiously as he took his hand off your shoulder and pointed at something that was scribbled sloppily towards the end of the page.

“I don’t know, either.” It was in the language that your father spoke. You never learned it since you grew up speaking Common. When you were given the book by your mother, she never told you what it translated to in Common. Probably because she didn’t speak the language, either. “It’s probably nothing important.” Or at least you hoped it wasn’t.

Jeno hummed in consideration. “Since this didn’t work, we’ll meet up tomorrow and come up with something else.”

When they filed out of your small home, saying their goodbyes and touching the runes that they carved on the door frame, you couldn’t help but stare at the liquid in your cauldron with hard eyes. It didn’t make any sense! You had followed it word for word yet it didn’t work! Time was running out and you didn’t know how Minhyung was coping–there was a block in your connection that made you feel like you were missing a limb. You really, really needed this spell to work. From your research, nothing else could help your coven against the vampires that kidnapped him.

What the vampires wanted with Minhyung, or your coven in general, you didn’t know. There hadn’t been a word from them. In fact, the more you thought about it, the more you didn’t want to know. You just wanted him back.

Determined, you waved for numerous books to stack themselves on your desk. Grabbing some parchment and your writing equipment, you sat down and flipped open the book at the top of the stack. You would find something. Anything. You’d make sure of it.

The following morning, you found yourself startling awake with an ache in your neck and a piece of parchment stuck to your right cheek. You groaned as you removed it and placed it on your desk, refusing to look at it–none of the ideas and information you wrote on it would be of any use. You yawned as you stretched, trying to rid yourself of the stiffness you felt in your shoulders.

Frustratingly, you had found nothing that could aid you on your quest to retrieve Minhyung. So many books and they were useless. You sighed heavily. A cup of your favorite herbal tea would do you some good and then you would resume your research. You were just about to make your way to your kitchen when you noticed a strange man on your couch from the corner of your eye. You turned to face him head on, to do what you didn’t know, and—!

Correction, there was a strange naked man. Your jaw almost dropped in shock. What in the world?!

Jeno was so much more skilled at offensive spells than you were and, in that very moment, you wished that you strengthened your skills in that area. It certainly would have helped in situations such as this. Reaching your hand out for your iron skillet, anxiety and adrenaline flooding through your system as it floated towards you, you crept closer to the couch. With a firm grip on the handle - just in case he made any unsavory movements - you shook his shoulder roughly in an attempt to wake him up. There was no reaction, not even a twitch. After a moment, you poked him on his torso with the edge of the skillet yet there was still nothing. With a frown, you slightly lowered your arm. He wasn’t dead–his chest was moving up and down in an even rhythm. If he had come to harm you, for whatever reason, surely he wouldn’t have been knocked out on your couch?

With that thought, you lowered your arm fully and inched closer in order to inspect him closely. Tufts of honey caramel blond hair in waves that curled at the nape of his neck and beautifully bronzed skin, lengthy eyelashes and a cupid’s bow that lead to plush lips. As your graze traveled lower, you caught the defined shape of his collarbones and the strong build of his chest–he wasn’t stocky, in fact he was more lean. You didn’t allow your eyes to travel any lower than his ribs, wanting him to have a semblance of privacy. One thing was certain; you had never come across a person like him. There was something about his aura that was exceptionally warm and bright.

You frowned. Warm and bright. Warm and bright. Warm and bright! Cogs turning in your head, you looked towards the direction of your desk where the cauldron sat and tipped it over with the sway of your fingertips. It was empty. You looked towards the stranger again. Was it possible that he was the one that could help you with the dilemma and not an actual object like you originally thought it was?

Releasing the skillet, willing it to return to its position on the pot rack above the sink, you snapped your fingers for one of your thicker blankets and covered the man. You then called for your familiar - a crow that camouflaged against the night sky - and told her to send a message to the rest of the coven. With a gentle stroke of her feathers, she flew off.

The others were in your home in no time, practically shoving themselves through the door and took on the stances that they used when you all came across danger. They never took their eyes off of the sleeping man while they stepped further inside. You held off a fond smile, choosing to watch your familiar settle into her place near the window.

“It’s alright,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence. “I’m pretty sure he’s exactly what we need.”

“Y/n,” Renjun hissed lowly, like the man would awaken if he spoke any louder, “there’s a massive crater right outside. He could have caused it.”

Your brows furrowed. Massive crater? With a fleeting look at the stranger, you weaved through the boys to get to the door. Once you opened it, you were stunned. Numerous trees had collapsed and there was a very obvious circle shaped impact on the grass, ruining some of the flowers and herbs that you were growing. You shut the door quickly, ensuring to lock it before you resumed your position by the desk.

“Well I don’t think he’s dangerous.” You announced, aiming for confidence in your tone. Not quite managing but you hoped that it was convincing enough. Jeno slid his gaze away from the man to meet your eyes. The corners of his lips curled downwards which earned him a stern look. He lifted his brows and you shrugged, head tilting towards the stranger in return.

“If y/n says that they don’t think he’s dangerous, then we should believe them.” Jeno said decisively. The others immediately began protesting. “But we’ll keep an eye on him, just in case.”

It had been hours of bouncing possible plans off each other and the stranger didn’t even so much as turn while he slept. The boys had agreed to spend the night in your small home, not trusting the man even though you argued that he wouldn’t have been able to pass the doorway had he any ill intentions.

After what seemed like eons, the stranger began to stir. The boys - who’s eyes were all drooping as they sat on the ground, half playing cards while the other half read their books to entertain themselves - sat up, not a drop of tiredness in their forms as they watched him slowly sit up with hawk eyes. At first he seemed confused but as he looked around the room, eyes lingering on each boy, his expression became neutral. After a look at each of them, his gaze zeroed in on you.

“You,” he said, voice rough with disuse. The others slightly shifted forward, Jaemin moving in a way that meant you would be half covered by him. “You’re the one who called for me?” At the jerk of your head, he hummed. He was about to stand although seemed to think better of it, covering his chest with the blanket in a way that seemed self-conscious. “Could I have some clothes please?”

“What’s your name?” Jeno asked after Renjun handed the man some clothes.

“You can call me”–he paused, head tilted as he thought–“Haechan.”

“Is that your real name?” Jisung questioned dubiously.

There was mischief in his eyes as his mouth stretched into a wide grin. “No,” he walked around the room, making you feel slightly self-conscious as he hummed at some of the items you owned. “Do you have any food? I’m hungry.”

Jaemin was the one who piped up this time. “Will you be able to help us?”

“Well, of course I will. After all the trouble you went through to summon me.” The last part was said with a knowing look at Chenle and Jisung.

The plan was discussed over a big dinner. In the end the plan was that one of you would travel with Haechan - Jaemin had reasoned that any more would seem like a threat - to where you suspected that the vampires kept Minhyung–it was well known that vampires were uncreative, so it was likely that they kept him somewhere high up in the cliffs, just off the mountains. Once the two of you were at the location, Haechan would use the alleged powers that he possessed and Minhyung would be reunited with your coven in no time. It seemed simple enough. However, as with all plans, there was one flaw and that was their whereabouts; Chenle wasn’t able to use his Sight to figure it out and because the tie you felt with Minhyung was currently unavailable, it would be a guessing game of which cliffs in particular. Haechan then mentioned in passing that he could locate them without a problem, and with that, the plan was decided. All there was left to do was choose the people to carry it out.

“I’ll go,” Jeno said, squaring his shoulders. “I’m the best at offensive spells.”

“But because you’re the best, you should stay here. Just in case something happens.” Renjun countered.

Haechan watched impassively as the boys volunteered themselves, bringing up their attributes that would assist greatly during the journey. Just as you were about to volunteer your own assistance, he locked eyes with you again. The intensity of it made you shift slightly, fiddling with your napkin on the table.

“They’re going.” He said decisively as he nodded at your direction, effectively silencing the room. In unison, the others immediately snapped their heads his way. “I’m not going if they’re not.” The statement was said in a matter-of-fact tone with a slight smirk.

Renjun looked seconds away from starting an argument. “That’s alright with me.” You agreed quickly, wanting to avoid an increase in tension in the already strained atmosphere. You gave them a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

After some displeased grumbling, Jeno nodded. “Alright, now that that’s sorted, when do you want to leave?”

“I travel better at night.” Haechan commented. You looked at him in curiosity but he did nothing except wink at you.

“Tonight, then?” You suggested. “The sooner the better, right?”

Surprisingly, there was little resistance at your idea. Soon enough the two of you were on your way, necessary belongings on a bag your back. Your familiar was soaring against the wind above you. The air was growing chillier by the second. You would have brought your cloak for an extra layer of warmth but Jisung had said something about being obvious, that both of you needed to blend in the background in the event that you came across other beings. Although he mentioned that he knew Minhyung’s location, it was still strange to see Haechan be the one who lead your duo. There was confidence in his stride as he lead; a couple of turns here and there, plowing straight ahead when you reached the area before the thickest part of the forest. It was probably only a strange experience because you were used to Minhyung leading.

You had to wonder what sort of powers he possessed for him to be able to locate their whereabouts with little difficulty.

“So,” you began as you stared at the crackling fire. The two of you had decided that you deserved a break after five hours of non-stop walking. Your familiar had gone to search for something to feed on, leaving the two of you to set up camp. Food wouldn’t be a problem for the moment since you packed some with you. “You were the one who created the crater outside my house, right?”

The corner of Haechan’s lifted. “You’re clever.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, I’m the one who created the crater, y/n.” He confirmed after a chuckle.

“I knew it!” You looked around, gestured him to lean closer to you. From up close, you noticed how there seemed to be sparkles in his pupils. Was he what you thought he was? Probably. The evidence connected seamlessly; from his aura, the empty cauldron and the crater. If you raised your suspicion, would he answer truthfully? You hoped so. “Are you a star?” You finally whispered. Stars were a thing of legend and, until now, you were in two minds about whether you believed that once every couple of hundred years, one would shoot from the sky. There were tales of them posing as a human and adapting to society; some were said to have families and everything, effectively gaining the full human experience.

“Very clever,” Haechan said with a nod of confirmation. With a calculating scan of your face, he asked, “what do you want to know?”

You wanted to know absolutely everything that he could tell you. Like how old the universe really was - and in turn, how old he was - and whether or not the myths about stars were true. There were other questions, too, and Haechan answered them all patiently, thoroughly covering each topic that you brought up, looking amused. By the time your familiar returned, satisfaction evident in the way she immediately perched on a branch, you and Haechan were something like friends, laughing at a mishap you recounted that involved Jisung, a pond and some geese.

In between your laughter and trading of stories, you noticed that Haechan had been closing the gap in the middle of the two of you ever since you asked him to lean in earlier.

“Cozy?” You said with a grin as your eyes swept back and forth between the two of his, still fascinated by the flecks of sparkles you found in them. His eyes were very pretty. They were softly shaped and you guessed that if he were smiling - a real one, not the half smiles he had been shooting at you - they would turn into crescents.

“Extremely!” Haechan replied loudly, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you even closer.

You fought a smile as you shrugged his arm off and went to grab some berries from you bag on the opposite side. You stuck your tongue out at Haechan when he winked at you as you made your way back.

The following day saw the two of you deep in the forest where you were practically dragging a whining Haechan by his wrists. He dug his heels into the soft soil. “I need to sleep! Please! even just a couple of hours. We can travel at night.”

You didn’t want to stop. Minhyung was possibly in grave danger, there was no time for frequent breaks. Although you thought back to two days ago when he said that he traveled better at night and the fact that he was a star. You glanced at the sky, squinting as the sun hit your eyes.

“We can walk a little further, just to find somewhere better to set up camp. Sound good?”

“Thank Cosmos!”

While Haechan was sound asleep, your familiar stood guard at a branch as you were practiced some light offensive spells that could prove to be handy. When you had enough of using your spells on unsuspecting sticks and rocks on the ground, you rummaged through your bag to retrieve a book that you brought along. Not that you read much, unable to keep your eyes away from Haechan’s sleeping form. From the two days that you knew him for, he had been nothing but playful and boisterous. Haechan was easy to get along with and he made the journey just that bit enjoyable–you wouldn’t wish for anyone from the coven to be kidnapped again but you were glad that a positive came from the experience.

When the sky darkened, stars twinkling brightly, Haechan was completely recharged. He chatted the ears off of you, practically skipping ahead of the two of you. Once another handful of hours of trekking had passed, you had grown tired and so you set up camp once more.

“Do you miss it?” It had only been three days but as you stared at the sky, observing how the stares shined, you had to know. “Being a star, I mean. I know it’s only been three days but...” You trailed off, not knowing how to end your sentence.

Haechan hummed, shifting from his position beside you. “Not really? It can get boring, you know, watching all you humans live your lives. I’ve always wanted to experience the things that you all do, like go to the beach or eat cake. It’s why I jumped at the chance when you summoned one of us, they wanted to send someone older.”

“Oh,” you traced a triangle using the stars for each corner with your eyes. “What’s it like being a star?”

“Well one thing is that you’re literally hot all the time and it can get pretty repetitive,” he paused for a while, as if having an inner debate. “Another thing is that it can be lonely”–his voice was low, like he was telling you a secret–“which sounds weird because there are so many of us. We’re surrounded by each other all the time and I love the others, I do, they’re my brothers and sisters but I just feel out of place sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah,” you turned over to your side and startled when you found Haechan already staring at you, his head propped on his elbow. “What does Haechan mean? That can’t be your real name, right?” He did have to think about it after all.

“No it’s not. But do you really want to know?” He gave you another one of his half smiles.

“Absolutely.” Your eagerness showed in how fast you answered.

“Okay then,” he replied after a chuckle. “It means ‘full sun’. My real name is Donghyuck, or at least that’s what the others call me.”

“Full sun,” you repeated lowly with a smile. “It suits you. Do you want me to keep calling you that or do you prefer Donghyuck?”

“Call me what you want.”

The rest of the night was spent speaking face to face, keeping your voices low in case of any possible intruders. The longer you talked, swapping a few secrets every now and again, the more it seemed that Donghyuck was glowing and at first you thought it was exhaustion catching up with you, however the somewhat dim glow slowly but surely turned into a bright one as the conversation continued to flow. When you brought it up, curiosity getting the best of you, Donghyuck had swiftly changed the topic, his ears pink. You thought about his adorably shy smile before you shut your eyes to go to sleep.

Another handful of days had passed and eventually it had been a little over a week since this whole operation began. The two of you were nowhere near the end of the forest but you were making great progress, so great that your familiar trusted your companion to keep you safe while she flew back to update the others. Donghyuck was challenging himself to stay up longer during the day so as to not inconvenience you, too, clearing noticing how late night traveling affected you. It was very thoughtful of him and it had something warm and unfamiliar uncurling inside of you. When you said as much, of course leaving out the warmth you felt, a hint of a smile played at his lips as he glowed.

“I’ve been very good about not asking again,” You said when your laughter died down. The two of you had hopped across a river and Donghyuck had slipped a little and fell in the shallow water. “But I can’t take it anymore.” You watched in amusement as Donghyuck rose slowly, his trousers soaked in different areas, as he laughed along with you. ”What does the glowing mean?” He was doing it again.

That had Donghyuck sobering up quickly, his glow dimming. A shy expression took over his place as he averted his eyes from yours. “Um, well, it happens when–”

The sound of rustling came from somewhere behind you. The two of you froze. As you inched closer to Donghyuck, an arrow whizzed through the air, just about missing your left shoulder. A series of spells ran through your mind before you settled on a simple disarming spell. It would be slightly difficult because you couldn’t pinpoint their exact locations but hopefully it would work out fine. There was a vague noise that indicated that they were successfully disarmed. You swayed your hand up into the air, launching the weapons far away without much thought. It was only then that they made themselves known. They were five women, all of different ages. There was confidence in their stances and a hardness in their eyes that spoke of great experiences.

You stood directly in front of Donghyuck without a thought, prepared to protect him at all costs. “When I say go, you’re going to make a run for it okay.” You instructed lowly, hoping that the others wouldn’t hear you. There was a spell you had in mind, rested on the tip of your tongue. Donghyuck had managed to let out a word of protest but you were having none of it. “Now!”

The women launched themselves at you as you began muttering the spell. Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough and your concentration was broken as they started to physically fight you. You threw some of the light offensive spells that you practiced days prior, managing to throw them off. With a kick to the back of your knees, you were down. There was an arm at your throat in an instant, effectively choking you and making you claw at the owner of the arm as you struggled. Just as your vision began wavering, you vaguely registered Donghyuck’s voice and then you could breathe properly again.

“I told you to go.” You said with a wince once you finished greedily gulping some air.

With another half smile, he said, “I ran away for a second but then I thought, how could I leave you behind?”

You huffed, one part frustrated and two parts pleased. “Idiot.”

From there, the women tied you to one another with a thin silver chain. You would have thought them foolish if you hadn’t recognized the chain from one of your books; it was the kind that wouldn’t break no matter what captive did to it. The women formed a pentagon around the two of you, successfully caging both of you in. Although you wanted to break the silence, to demand where they were leading you, you had enough self-preservation to know not to. You huddled closer to Donghyuck when you noticed the woman closest to you glare from the side of her eye when he stumbled over something.

The seven of you kept moving uphill for hours on end and when you reached the gates leading up to a huge manor, it clicked. These women weren’t just a random group of people who wanted to see if either of you were worth anything valuable. No, these women were part of the group that had taken Minhyung. They lead you past the iron gates and through the tall, intricately designed doors and you barely had time to look at the beautiful decor as they lead you through another set of doors. It was there that you saw two men and women seated at the top of the room, some spectators gathered on the sidelines as the five women guided you to the center of the room. Minhyung was nowhere in sight.

“Ah,” one of the men spoke, “so this is him?”

The woman in front stepped to the side and then you felt yourself being shoved from behind, Donghyuck experiencing the same treatment beside you. They weren’t as menacing as you thought they would look. In fact, they looked a little bit like royalty with the way they sat and how they dressed in well fitted suits and beautiful lace gowns. One of the women stared at Donghyuck, her head tilted slightly. There was a distinct look of hunger that shined in her eyes that you didn’t like. Not one bit.

When you were about to demand for Minhyung’s presence, he stepped out from somewhere behind the four, a man directly behind him. You didn’t like the hand on your friend’s shoulder but Minhyung didn’t appear to be physically harmed in any way, he didn’t even look unkempt. It was confusing to say the least. While you were thankful that he seemed fine, there had to be some sort of catch.

“Are you okay?” You asked hurriedly, your desperation to know his condition overruling whatever self-preservation you had.

Minhyung nodded in affirmative. “We’ve come to an agreement but...” His eyes flickered to Donghyuck as he trailed off. You followed his gaze and found your companion completely composed, shoulders squared as he met Minhyung’s eyes and nodded minutely. What was going on?

“When I said I volunteered to be summoned that was true,” Donghyuck began as Minhyung was allowed to make his way over to you. The women surrounding you released the chains and dispersed, their task evidently completed. “But we’ve always known.” There was a sad smile on his face now and you hated that you saw that before the smile you imagined he would have when he was happy, the one with the pretty crescent shaped eyes.

“Known what?”

“Oh you poor thing,” one of the women at the front spoke, her tone condescending. “He didn’t even tell you?”

Minhyung had finally reached you, squeezing your shoulder as he took the space on your left. In return, you grabbed his hand as you whipped your head to the four at the top of the room, demanding to know what they knew about the whole situation. From your other side, Donghyuck fumbled with his words.

Eventually the other woman cut him off and told you herself. “The blood of a star”–your eyes widened at the blatant exposure of your companion’s true nature, the woman smirking when she noticed–“is very special.” Your stomach dropped, sensing where the conversation was heading. “Stars are made of old magic. Drink even one, tiny drop and the consumer will be overcome with an immense power, regardless of what being they are.”

“But if that’s the case why don’t you just take a drop now so we can go home then?” There was a titter that rippled through the spectators while their leaders looked at you as if you were some stupid, lowly human. Whatever had dropped in your stomach began churning, you began to feel ill when you realized that they were planning to bleed him dry. “No! You’re not going to do that, I won’t let you.”

“Silly witch,” a man from the crowd spat, “it was predestined! Our oracle does not lie.”

Dropping Minhyung’s hand, you turned to face Donghyuck who mirrored your action. “You can’t let them do this! What about the beach and trying cake?” You were well aware of how pathetic you sounded but continued anyway. “We all know that I’m not the best at offensive spells but Minhyung is here and we can defeat them.” There was a rumble from the crowd at your words but you barely acknowledged them, desperately scanning Donghyuck’s face. “You’re my friend. I won’t let this happen to you.”

Regardless of the fact that you only met the man a little over a week ago, your friendship was still very valid. You’d be damned if you were going to let him go without a fight. There were still things that you wanted him to experience, one being properly introducing him to the others. They would be great friends, you just knew it. At your admission, Donghyuck was openly pleased. The glowing was back again, not as bright as you’ve seen it or anything, it just faintly surrounded him. The gears in your mind were turning again.

“Well isn’t this just precious,” the other leading woman spoke, “the star has-”

You didn’t hear what the rest of what she said, the room suddenly becoming silent as if you have been sucked into a vacuum. In your confusion, you stole a quick glance at her to find her lips moving but no sound coming out of her mouth. “This glamour won’t last long,” Donghyuck said, addressing you and Minhyung. “Minhyung when this drops, which should be in a couple of seconds, I need you to shut your eyes okay? I have a plan.” To you, he said nothing, his right hand came up to caress your cheek.

“...shame to do this to you, really.”

The moment her voice came back, the hand on your cheek dropped and you found yourself engulfed in a warm hug. “Trust me?” Donghyuck was glowing brighter as one hand cradled the back of your head while the other was positioned at your lower back. When you said nothing short of, of course I do why would you ask that, the light around him became even brighter. “I’m your friend?” He whispered into your ear, referring to your earlier statement.

“Of course you are, I wouldn’t have said I trust you if you weren’t. If I’m not yours I’ll be thoroughly disappointed and let them eat you.” His chuckle was directly in line with your ear and made you suppress the shiver that wanted to travel down your spine. “If we survive this, I’ll buy you all the cake you want.”

“Yeah?”

“You bet! And I’ll...” You proceeded to make a bunch of promises, shutting your eyes when you could no longer stand the brightness that he was emitting. As you spoke, your eyes squeezed shut while you enjoyed the warmth, you felt Donghyuck rest his cheek on top of your head. When you had nothing else to say, he began humming softly and swaying the two of you.

The screams that the two of you had pointedly ignored throughout your conversation had subdued substantially, withering into nothing but pained groans. Part of you wanted to take a peek but you weren’t sure if it was safe to open your eyes yet. The other, slightly larger part of you wanted to continue swaying with Donghyuck for a little bit longer; you found comfort in his arms.

Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end and so soon enough Donghyuck stopped swaying the two of you and released you from his hold. Within a second, Minhyung joined your duo and began exclaiming how incredible Donghyuck was. As he continued expressing his awe, you drowned him out as you looked around. The vampires had disintegrated into nothing, the only sign of their existence being the numerous piles of clothes that littered the ground. The sight of it made you wince, feel a little sick to your stomach and so you looked back to your friends.

The journey home allowed Minhyung and Donghyuck to become fast friends which was mostly due to the fact that they had similar humor and were both quick witted. Between the banter that the three of you bounced back to one another, it felt as though you were facing your front door quicker than expected. It was your familiar who spotted you first, alerting the others without hesitation which resulted in them surrounding the three of you as the spoke over each other.

You all but face-planted on your couch when you were near enough to do so. Logically, you were aware that you needed to bathe properly and eat whatever comfort food you had in your cupboards but something about travelling for so long to watch vampires end up as nothing did something to your energy levels. Not even a moment later, there were fingers carding through your hair which paired perfectly with the chatter in the background in relaxing you. They were so gentle, like that time you and Donghyuck were comparing hair textures a few nights ago. Maybe it was Donghyuck who was playing with your hair; it certainly was a nice thought and feeling, one that you wouldn’t mind experiencing for the rest of your life. The thought made you shoot up immediately. Donghyuck’s bewildered expression came into view.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” The question came out louder than expected, embarrassingly high pitched, causing the other to stop talking.

“They’re right,” Renjun piped up from somewhere behind you, “you’ve successfully aided us with our problem so there’s no need for you to stay, is there?”

“No,” Donghyuck’s gaze fell to the ground. “But once a star has fallen”–his fingers clutched onto his trousers–“they can’t return.” The statement had an immediate negative effect in the atmosphere and made you tear your eyes away from Donghyuck in order to look at the others pleadingly.

‘Can he please stay?’ You mouthed at them. After willingly volunteering himself to help, knowing that he would never return to his original state, surely he at least deserved to join the coven. The thought of him not joining felt wrong in a way, like if the Earth were to orbit the Moon instead of vice versa.

The others looked to Minhyung who, with his easy-going nature, smiled brightly at Donghyuck as he walked towards him. With a hand on his shoulder, he said, “you can stay with us.” The way Donghyuck’s eyes widened and snapped up to scan Minhyung’s face, as if to look for a sign that he was joking, pulled at your heartstrings. “Don’t look at me like that,” Minhyung said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly, “it’s only right.”

Donhyuck’s gaze shifted from Minhyung to the other boys until they finally rested on you. You plastered on an encouraging smile, subtly nodding to him. Donghyuck’s fingers released his grip on their grip on his trousers and his hopeful expression gave way for a small smile. After clearing his throat, he softly said, “thanks.”

Life after Donghyuck joining the coven was stupidly easy. Just as you suspected, the boys had gotten along swimmingly. The more days that passed, the closer they all became and it made you feel warm on the inside; that all your boys - because, yes, of course they were yours, just like you were theirs - were beginning to form a bond like no other. Your relationship with Donghyuck was more or less the same but there was an attraction that you had for him that you didn’t dare acknowledge. It was something that would stay in the back of your mind; no matter how many times you got lost in his eyes or how adorable he was when he got particularly excited about something. You knew you were done for when one warm evening, the boys were lounging in your home after the day at the beach and Chenle was recounting the time Jisung had tried to brew a potion and how it left him with blue skin for weeks. Donhyuck had leaned forward to let out a full bellied laugh and you had to look away before you wouldn’t stop staring. Jaemin caught your eye, though, and the way he subtly winked at you had you scrambling to do something, anything, so that you could ignore how warm your cheeks had gotten.

A couple of weeks after that found you and Dongyuck under a large tree near you home, sitting across from one another on top of a picnic blanket with a pretty, buttercream frosted cake in between the two of you. Donghyuck was staring at it hungrily, fork in his hand. You gestured at the cake when he shot you a quick glance, smiling at him with amusement. The first bite had his eyes growing wide before shoveling more of it into his mouth, both of his cheeks bulging with the amount of it. You could hardly suppress your laughter, not even with a hand pressed to your mouth. At first he gulped it down, smiled bashfully and pushed the cake towards you. Then when you refused, content with watching him enjoy it by himself, his eyes sparkled with mischief and before you could even think to move away, he swiped some frosting across your nose. In retaliation, you returned the favor and so it became a mini food fight of sorts until you two stood up and began chasing each other around the forest, your laughter being carried by the breeze.

“Happiness,” you said breathlessly as you laid on the grass, not caring about grass stains ruining your clothes. Donghyuck mimicked your position, laying close enough so that your arms were touching. While you enjoyed the warmth that he was radiating, you shifted so that you could face him, elbow on the grass as your temple rested on your palm. “It’s happiness.”

“Hm?” Again, he copied your position and you couldn’t help but giggle at how silly he looked even though you probably resembled his current state–minus the glowing.

“The glowing,” you stated, eyes flickering to his lips for a quick second. “It happens when you’re happy, right?”

“You’re clever as always, sunshine.”

You snorted, “of course, Haechan.”

There was an electrifying current that followed as you and Donghyuck stared at one another for the next couple of minutes until you broke it, fearing that you might do something like tell him your feelings or kiss him or, if you were brave enough, both. With the sway of your finger, the picnic blanket was folded up and began floating back to your house. You offered Donghyuck your hand and pulled him up when he took it.

With frosting still covering both of your faces, the two of you began walking back in silence. Your arms were lightly swinging back and forth at your sides until your right pinkie was captured by another. You slyly glanced at Donghyuck from the corner of your eye, who refused to look at your direction. Heart racing, you rearranged your hands so that they were locked together, unable to fight the smile that made its way onto your face. When you reached your front door, still hand in hand with no words spoken to each other, you raised the back of his hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss. A glance at your companion showed him mirroring your smile with his eyes directed on the ground, the glowing brighter than ever.

Before you could look away, he met your gaze and said, “I’m the happiest when I’m with you.” Then he gave you a peck on the lips, let go of your hand and ran inside. And what could you do except follow him, a goofy smile plastered on your face.

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xenteaart · 4 years

Text

Diplomacy Failure

Summary: The Master and you have an established friendship, a bromance - you’re basically partners in crime. One day the Master comes up with this grand robbery scheme but it takes him months to plan the whole thing out properly, and by the end of it - he’s getting way too impatient and reckless. That’s where you step in.

Warnings: none, pure fluff again

Pairing: Dhawan!Master x Reader

Note: This was supposed to be a short thing so I decided not to create a whole ass backstory around it. The main reason why I wanted to write this was because I usually see MC being mostly submissive in fics (not that there’s anything wrong with it whatsoever) and I craved some diversity so here it goesss.

Huge thanks and lots of love to my incredible beta @wonders-of-the-multiverse i love you to bits <3

The last few months have been hard to say the least. After years of knowing the Master you’d grown accustomed to his severe mood swings, but this was something else.

Most of the time you never really bothered to get to know all the details of his typically complex and intricate schemes. You simply trusted him with those and did what he asked you to do, not taking any liberty to make your own decisions because he did know better. He was the one spending restless days and nights planning everything out after all, so you never really questioned anything. Until today.

He was getting impatient and it wasn’t a good thing at all.

The Master had an impressive set of skills, the ability to wait and execute slow-burn plans exceptionally well being one of them. However this time, he got way too invested in what he was doing, his near obsession leading you to believe it had something to do with the Doctor in the long run.

As for now, he needed to get his hands on something “very valuable and very important” and he was planning to steal it, of course. It was no common robbery though, the ship you were now finding yourselves on was huge. No, massive, so simply threatening a few creatures with his TCE and acquiring the object wasn’t a viable option. The ship’s obscenely advanced security systems were not working in your favor either.

The two of you were pretending to be a regular married couple, mere visitors to the event and so painfully ordinary in your nature as to not draw any attention. Keeping a low profile was essential.

The Master called from somewhere below the console where corridors led to the wardrobe room, and since you weren’t occupied with anything even remotely important you joined him right away. You were happy to merely see him and talk to him considering he now preferred the company of a thousand papers with all sorts of layouts, schemes, his own scribbles and something else in Gallifreyan that you had no way of understanding.

“What’s that?” you asked, a little taken aback by his excessively fancy suit.

“Your dress is right there, try it on and see if it fits,” he said casually as he looked in the mirror, ignoring your question and waving his hand at the sophisticated purple dress that was laid out on a nearby sofa.

Ah. Matching outfits. He could never resist the drama of it.

You looked at the dress, the decoration on it exquisite and lavish. A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you tried not to laugh too loudly.

“If that’s for tomorrow, we’re not wearing that.” you uttered, not even trying to hide your amused grin at this point.

“What? Why?”

“Because we need to be wearing this,” you pointed at a horrendous blue suit and a dress of the matching color, the shade and design of both so ugly and simplistic that the clothing wouldn’t look good on either of you.

A displeased frown flitted across the Master’s features.

“Come on, we need to look pitiful. Men of wealth love playing charity and chatting with lower class people, helping them out with whatever. It makes them feel better about themselves, boosts their ego.” you elaborated, your words heavily accompanied by expressive hand waving and vocal shifts.

He blinked a couple of times and looked at himself in the mirror again, trying to make peace with the idea of this fashion crime you were both about to commit.

The first step of his plan was relatively easy - he was doing the networking and you were doing the smiling as the two of you were slowly getting closer and closer to higher rank guests that were usually a little too drunk and clueless to not accidentally give away the information you needed most, that being - where the security control room was located. Getting a sample of some rich and wasted guest’s DNA was also part of the job since they all had unlimited access to all parts of this ship. As of now, you were getting a feeling you were never even going to make it to that point.

The Master wasn’t very good at tolerating stupidity, especially when nobody knew and feared who he was. To all of these arrogant and self-absorbed upper class assholes, he was literally a peasant. Little did they know.

You could see his hand playing with the TCE in his pocket as he was seriously considering whether to take it out and end this shitshow here and now. That would probably feel really good for a couple of minutes but then both of you would be captured and very likely executed on the spot because no matter how intimidating and dangerous the Master was - the quantity of creatures on the ship would be an undeniable advantage on their side. Plus, he’d spent so much time on plan A, there wasn’t any room for plan B, you figured.

Granted, dying wasn’t something the Master was ever afraid of. But you were human with no spare lives, so his impatience would mean very bad news for you.

“Don’t you want to take a break from this?” you asked timidly, standing in the doorway and not daring to let yourself into the Master’s working space just yet since knocking on the door did nothing to catch his attention.

He was rapidly glancing all over the papers, his mind being evidently busy with something of more significance than your presence.

“I can get you some coffee if you like? Or... anything at all, really,” you made another attempt at starting a conversation but it was met with silence once again, except this time you noticed hints of irritation in the way he was making notes and moving things around his table, mercilessly digging his pen into his notebook and purposely making a lot more noise while searching for something buried under these piles of paper.

“Yeah, no worries then.” you sighed as you saw yourself out of the room.

You were getting fed up with this.

As you were standing next to him and contemplating your options, you felt the air around you change a little. It was an insignificant shift but you were particularly sensitive to emotional fields people and other creatures tended to create, and right now the atmosphere did not feel friendly.

You looked at the Master and then back at the greenish humanoid looking creature he was talking to. The conflict was clearly starting to develop, filling the space around you with tension and unease.

You were so close to the control room, you couldn’t let that happen. There were only a few more floors you had to pass in order to get to the royalty hall where your main mission would be taking place.

“For Christ’s sake.” you thought to yourself, recognizing the familiar burning anger in the Master’s eyes as he was slowly losing his already weak grasp on his temper and reaching for his pocket, his actions now fuelled with proper intention of making the man pay for his disrespect and bad manners.

The problem with the Master was - no matter how brilliant and clever his ideas were, his emotions and temper would always get in the way. You had to learn it the hard way by nearly getting killed a couple of times because of it in the past. But pissing off a few soldiers and running away was one thing, and acting hostile on a space station sized ship with no quick way out was a completely different story.

“I am so sorry, sir, my husband suffers from this terrible condition,” you spoke as you looked at the Master intensely, doing your best to wordlessly communicate with him and beg him to stay silent, “where he gets unreasonably aggressive when he’s upset.”

The man’s expression was now plagued with confusion but it was a good sign, you thought. He was paying attention.

“He’s just frustrated we can’t yet afford to lead a life like yours, sir. Isn’t that right, darling?” you patted the Master on the back, your voice now so sugary sweet it made you want to vomit, but you were committed to your little act and nothing could stop you.

“Please forgive our jealousy, we simply wish to be more like you but it pains us to realize we’re a long way away from that,” saying this made your skin itch, and you were pretty sure the Master’s eye was twitching a little. You looked at him briefly and noted he was indeed… puzzled.

Your flattery seemed to work wonders on the man’s self esteem, though, his facial expression momentarily switching to pity and its default arrogance mixed with pride.

You tried not to make eye contact with the Master as you were escorting him away, your hand wrapped around his elbow. Your heart was beating a little too fast for your liking, and your main concern for now was peacefully leaving the floor and avoiding any more fuss on the way because, honestly, you were getting angry yourself.

---

“What the hell was that?” was the first thing he asked you as soon as you both entered the TARDIS safely, the two of you still slightly out of breath from your usual cardio on your way back; the desired object sitting securely in the Master’s pocket.

“I was actually going to ask you this exact same question, how convenient.” you snapped, kicking off your heels and making your way to the console barefoot, the cold metal floor having a soothing effect on your aching feet.

The Master gave you a grim look as he took off his ridiculous and evidently uncomfortable jacket, and swiftly marched towards you. His intimidating aura rarely had any impact on you and you didn’t even flinch at his intrusion of your personal space. You knew all too well he would never hurt you deliberately.

“I did not allow you to intervene.”

“You should have seen your face, darling,” you said mockingly, maintaining intense eye contact as if it was a competition on who looks away first.

“You should have heard your voice, such sweetness and flattery I was worried you were gonna kiss his ring at the end of your speech or something,” he spat out his words with grimaced disgust.

The two of you stared at each other in complete silence for about half a minute, and your facade dropped first. You burst into laughter, giggling obnoxiously at the memory of the Master’s pure and sincere confusion. You’d never seen him so baffled and mad, the funniest thing of it all being the fact that he had to comply and play along. It made you a little proud of yourself.

The corner of the Master’s lips twitched, his stubbornness and denial still fighting his urge to crack up, but a couple of moments later he finally joined you. Any trace of annoyance was long gone, and a wide smile took over his person as he laughed out loud with you.

“Idiot.” he commented, still chuckling and grinning while also unbuttoning his lousy shirt. You both wanted to get out of those trashy clothes as soon as possible.

You suddenly went quiet. With no further talking you simply stepped forwards and hugged the Master tightly, burying your nose in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve missed you.”

He hugged you back, resting one of his hands on your head and ruffling your hair, so very aware of how much you hated it.

“Missed you too, fool.”

#doctorwho #doctor who imagine #doctor who fanfic #my fic #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master x you #the master x reader #dw imagine #dhawan!master/reader #the master/reader #dhawan!master #doctor who

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quickslver · 3 years

Text

THE SUIT THAT KEEPS ON CHANGING!

alright, so pietro’s super suit look simple enough right? well, its not! there are actually some details to it that i adore to bits and pieces that i wish to talk about. it’s all going under a cut because i have scribbled up an incredibly messy diagram and also have images as to how i depict pietro’s suit since his canon one always changes i want something solid. i am also probably going to complain about old & current designs as well so be prepared for that.

here we go!

THE MAKE AND MATERIAL OF THE SUIT.

pietro’s suit is meant to feel like a second skin. it is form fitting and incredibly tight ( yes he IS AWARE you can see every contour of his body. ). the reason behind this is that he tries not to wear anything that flows. the suit breathes just fine, there is some mesh material that makes sure he doesn’t sweat himself out of it. since he runs at his highest speeds when he is suited up, the flowing of fabric would not aid him and would probably end up injuring him if he were to catch on anything at such high speeds. ( its happened before when he was younger, a lesson quickly learned ).

the material of his suit isn’t as sturdy as many of the other avengers only because most of the time he’s able to dodge most of what is thrown at them. this being said, it is usually resist against sharp objects ( knives, arrows, swords, etc. ) that are of lower grade. but something akin to, let’s say clint’s arrows or a bullet, would very easily be able to make it through his suit.

IMAGE 1 & IMAGE 6 are examples of one of the first times pietro has been equipped with armor on his suits! though it isn’t much, he at least has kneepads, and upper body armor.

enjoy my handwriting btw its not the greatest

GOGGLES

pietro has never been depicted with googles on his suit until recently. if i’m correct, the xmcu first gave him the idea of such and then i believe the comics intergrated that into his millennium & uncanny design. PERSONALLY I ADORE THE CONCEPT. at high speeds, it makes sense for him to have to cover or protect his eyes. even if his body is built to withstand the pressure i’m sure it dries out his eyes and i couldn’t imagine if he got water, dirt, sand, etc. in his eyes because of it. no thank yoooou. plus he will ALWAYS tell someone to shut their eyes if he’s running them at long speed, a short distance isn’t much but if its more than a few miles he’ll advice as such.

WHY ARE HIS HANDS ALWAYS COVERED?

steeples mine fingers

as you all may be aware, i do include house of m/son of m/silent wars into my canon on this blog. one of the MAJOR CHANGES that came of this event is pietro’s constant use of the terrigen crystals. it got to the point in which he was covered in scars across his hands and chest. pietro doesn’t have many scars because he has a sped up healing factor that cuts any healing time in half so it rarely leaves time for scars. however, these were buried into his skin and when removed it left its lasting mark and its a shameful reminder of all the bad he’s done. so, while it is easy to cover his chest he always makes sure he has long enough sleeves or gloves on with his suit to cover his hands.

i doubt this was intentionally done by the artists ( as they often forget the things pietro has done/been through ) but i like to think of this being the reson why he covers so much.

HIS SHOES

pietro already needs to buy custom shoes because anything else would be burnt up in one sprint. so as the years go by he starts getting his suits designed as a FULL PIECE INCLUDING THE SHOES. it just makes it easier. he’d done it once or twice before when he was younger and has varied between disconnected and connected boots. in the end he just prefers the full thing to be all connected.

L.E.D LIGHTS

in one of his more recent suits, he’s taken to lights being integrated into the design. this is purely aesthetic based and he knows its shitty for stealth missions but honestly if you’re taking pietro on a stealth mission that’s your first fuck up. he also wears shoes that light up in his casual attire so yknow its just a theme.

COLOR SCHEME

pietro is always depicted with cool colors, mostly greens and blues. idk what IMAGE 2 & IMAGE 5 were trying to accomplish but i ABHOR this suit design to the ends of the earth. its boring, oversimplified, and purple just isn’t pietro’s color. he’ll leave that one to clint. BUT i also have never been a fan of the green either! so in the end it’s probably obvious that his millennium suit is my absolute favorite. which brings me to what i consider pietro’s canon look!

X-MEN REDESIGNS BY LUKAS WERNECK

it has everything i love on it. the fully connected suit. the perfect color scheme. THE GOGGLES. there’s even L.E.D lights. this is basically a revamp of his millennium suit and i’m just chef kiss @ this alright.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

#chara study #THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING ITS A LONG ASS POST

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arandompostarchive · 3 years

Text

SALEM - Ch. 7

SAVED WORK

Summary: In all the centuries of your existence, you had never been dragged out of hiding by another god, put in a superhero team and forced to save the universe. But it seems your luck has run out.

“So, let me get this straight. You, a person known for your cunning and intelligence put the Tesseract, something people have fought and died to get, on a foreign planet known for its bounty hunters and soldiers?”

Loki only shrugged a bit. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Really? It really seemed like a good idea? Hiding it with people who would probably sell it first chance they got?”

“Well when you put it like that—”

“Loki.” He looked directly at you. “We have to get to it before my sister does. If anyone uses it she’ll probably find it somehow. You do know how to get to Kalan, right?

“Of course, except for the major problem. We have no way to get there.”

You smiled. “Oh, that’s not a problem. I mean, Tony has to have the Quinjet prototypes somewhere right?”

He frowned, “I believe the reason they are ‘prototypes’ is because they didn’t work.”

“Exactly! It’ll take Tony a lot less time to notice. Though I’m pretty sure most of them are scrapped, there’s gotta be at least one that actually flies.”

He sat down on your couch. There was a small pad of paper on the table in front of it, your messy handwriting all over it. Some ideas were circled or underlined, all in dark ink. At least you were thinking this one through, even if there were a few flaws. He’d never admit it, but he’d prefer to have the team’s help with this. But with how slow they were going to even acknowledge the fact that there’s a serious threat… you may not have much of a choice.

“Alright. You find a ship, I’ll gather supplies. If you say you’re willing to watch me, they’ll probably leave us alone for a few hours. Then we can leave.”

“That’s the spirit!”

You smiled at him. It was nice to be there heroes for once. Both of you. Lies and darkness teaming up to save the day? Talk about rare.

Admittedly, you were nervous. Kalan was a planet full of trained soldiers. What they were training for was never exactly clear. They were anticipating a war that didn’t exist yet. Unfortunately, that made for very jumpy Generals. People who’d shoot at anything without an army badge. Although, part of the planet was known for its bounty hunters. They steered clear of the soldiers and even got a few insiders to steal from the armies. Not fun.

Either you try to steal an extremely valuable object from people known for being expert thieves, or steal from an army who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through your head. It might not kill you, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell.

That left one question, which side should you start with?

Loki stood up, “I’ll see if my brother will help, you find the ship and speak with you teammates. As much as I hate to say it, you should probably leave a note behind. Just in case.”

You nodded. Of course, you had no intention of losing any sort of fight but he had a point. Just in case.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” He smiled sadly before leaving the room. He had a point. It just wasn’t a point you wanted to think about.

You sunk down into the couch and grabbed your pad of paper. You tore away some of your ideas and scribbled down a small note. After searching for probably twenty minutes you managed to find an envelope and stuff the letter in. You wrote a small message on the front.

“Hi Tony. If I’m not back in exactly two weeks, open this envelope. I know you’ll probably open this before that anyway, but I’ve never asked for anything. Just do this. Please.

-Y/n

Ps, I really do need a nickname, huh?”

You weren’t sure if that would work. Maybe he’d wait. Just in case, you didn’t give him enough info to find you. Just in case he tried before two week were up. It probably wouldn’t take that long, but better safe than sorry. You left the note on the table in front of your couch. He’d probably come to your room first after he found you missing, so that guaranteed he’d find it after you were long gone.

Now to find that prototype.

Tony had a garage, he’d keep most of his cars in there, but he needed somewhere to keep it right? You knew he had a small space to work on the cars, improve them. And if you had a prototype, that’s where you’d keep it.

Getting into the garage was a slight issue. Tony didn’t like just anyone strolling in and messing with his stuff (He’d decided that after someone spray painted one of his cars). Whoops.

Obviously Tony gave himself access, along with Bruce. He was probably one of the more responsible Avengers, and Tony trusted him with that sort of technology. That and Bruce helped out once in a while.

Since Tony would most definitely not let you in, you opted for Bruce.

You (unsurprisingly) found him in the lab working on something or other. It was fairly safe to assume that Tony used some sort of key card, which means in would probably be in his pocket.

Great.

“Hey Bruce, I really like that shirt, by the way.

He turned around and smiled, “Oh hey! Wait. What do you want?”

He stopped working on whatever it was, it looked like a phone or something.

“Can’t I just compliment my friends because I feel like it?”

He sighed, “Well of course you can, but it usually means you want something.”

“Really, this time I don’t want anything. What are you working on?”

He clearly didn’t believe you, but he turned back to his project. “It’s a tracker Steve wanted me to work on. He’s thinking of trying to find that Ker woman and track whatever energy she’s putting off. But it’s kinda hard to do without having any of that ‘energy’.”

You nodded along, slowly slipping your hand into his lab coat pocket. He didn’t seem to notice.

Damn it. Wrong pocket.

You moved to his other side.

“Does Steve really think he can take her? I mean, Loki was losing when we got there.” You slipped your hand into his other pocket. Definitely a key card.

“I think we’ve got a good chance. Besides, all we know is that Loki doesn’t like her and that ‘Doom is rising’ which basically tells us nothing. And uh, it’s not like we were given a time frame. What can we do really? I doubt Loki would ever tell us the truth. He might want to save the Earth for whatever reason, but it’s a pretty good way to get rid of us.”

You nodded slightly. You knew when Loki lied. Granted, it wasn’t exactly easy, but you’d gotten fairly good at it.

You grabbed the card and glance down quickly. A small ‘A’ was on it. You slipped it into your own pocket before responding.

“Yeah well, hopefully he’s right. Anyway, see you later!” You walked out of the room leaving a confused Bruce behind.

You immediately went to the elevator and scanned in Bruce’s card.

It started going down and eventually opened into Tony’’s garage. You walked across and opened a back room. It had a large door that led outside along with a few cars and ships. Well, that explains why his garage is so big. You always assumed that was Tony being Tony.

You ran to one of the ships, it definitely wasn’t perfect. The outside had some chipped paint, but there was a key card next to it. Seems like Tony didn’t always have the same security he has now.

You opened the garage door that led outside. Tony was upstairs and probably wouldn’t be out of his lab for a few hours. It would be a while before anyone noticed. Perfect.

You left Bruce’s card on one of Tony’s work stations and stuffed the ship’s key card in your pocket.

Now it was just a matter of talking to Tony.

***

Tony wasn’t difficult to find. He was in his lab talking to Peter about something or other.

“Hey Tony, Pete. How are you?” You sat down on a stool across from them and they looked up. It seemed like they were working on the other half of Bruce’s tracker.

“Well if it isn’t the Maleficent herself.” Tony smiled.

“Maleficent, huh?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not crazy about it. We’ll get there.”

You smiled. “Hey, I did want to mention. It seems like I’m the only one up for watching Loki, I’m okay with doing it for a while.”

He smiled, “Alright then, taking one for the team.” Peter had a small smile on his face.

“Also, Tony?” He cocked his head to the side slightly.

“I guess, well. I got a little existential today, so if anything ever happens to me, I’m really glad we could be friends. You too Peter.” You smiled, resting your hand on Peter’s shoulder for a second.

“Well okay.” Tony said. “A little random but I’m glad we’re friends too? Any particular reason or are we just worried about the apocalypse?”

“No, no reason. Just introspective I guess. I’ll see you later.” You walked out of the lab. Peter looked over his shoulder and smiled. You smiled back.

***

“Okay, you got supplies and weapons, I got a ship. Ready to go?”

Loki nodded, walking through garage with you. “You did talk to your teammates, correct? It would be much more helpful if they didn’t try to follow us half-way across the universe.”

You nodded, “Yeah. I mentioned it to Tony. Unless there’s a mission he probably won’t check in for a bit.”

You reached the ship pretty quickly and climbed in, dropping the two bags full or mostly weaponry on the ground.

“So, what do you think? Tony must’ve made it years ago.” Loki looked around. It really wasn’t a bad ship. Almost identical to the Quinjet, even if it was a bit smaller. You sat down in the pilot’s seat, Clint would flip.

You took the key card out of your pocket and put it in a small slot next to your chair. You knew most of the controls from watching Clint. Until he told you to leave so he could focus.

You started it up, get yourself out of the garage and into the air. You take off was a little rocky, but hey, at least you know it flies.

“Um, C-Y/n, I mean. You do actually know how to fly this, correct?”

You shrugged. “I mean, it can’t be that hard, right?”

Loki rolled his eyes and sat down next to you. “Let me help, at least I know where we’re going.”

“Fair enough.”

***

Traveling through space was nothing like you remembered. Olympus was a bit like Asgard. There are easier ways to get there, but space travel would probably work. Tartarus on the other hand was a little harder to access. The Tesseract would hopefully help with that. But for now, Loki was steering your towards Kalan. You had never really been there yourself, but he said it wasn’t too far.

He was right. It wasn’t long before Loki found a fairly safe place to land. (He really couldn’t drive the ship much better than you, but that might just be the ship itself)

It was on a hill past any sort of town. Looking out of the window you could see lights in the distance. It was dark, a purple sky and dark plants covered some of your view. There was some light smoke from some sort of fire. Loki opened up the door and you grabbed the key card, putting it in your pocket and stepped out behind Loki.

There were plants on the ground, it felt like grass but much softer. There was light from a moon behind you. You could see two other moons behind it, but they didn’t give off the same blue hue.

It was beautiful. The small town with curling smoke was in front of you, and when you turned around you could see other lights in the distance. They were more organized. The spaces between each of them looked exactly the same.

“You should grab a weapon, Y/n. Just to be safe.” You nodded and walked back onto the ship. You knew your way around a gun, that’s for sure, but you were much more old school.

Loki had grabbed a few of your weapons, likely from your room. You had no doubt Thor showed him where it was, good to see he was helping you, even if he wouldn’t come with.

One of your main weapons was a scythe. Part of it folded into a smaller staff about the size of your forearm with a blade on one side and a handle on the other. It was sort of hard to handle at first, but you liked it. Granted, you still had a long way to go. You only picked up weaponry a year ago. Magic was much easier.

But still, a physical weapon was nice.

“Your choice, Y/n.” You looked up at Loki. “We can try the bounty hunters or the soldiers. I know not where it went, just that it is here.”

“You sure you should leave this up to me? If we got to the bounty hunter, we’ll have to steal it, if it’s even there. If we go to the soldiers, we’ll have to find a way to get into their base without fighting everyone off.” Talk about a rock and a hard place.

“Yes, neither option is ideal. We could always try getting to Tartarus without it?”

You shook your head, “No. That’d take a hell of a lot longer. And we’d have to think of an easy way out. Not happening.”

You sat down in the grass, sighing lightly at the soft feeling beneath your hand.

“Okay then. Let’s try the soldiers. If it’s not there, they probably have more technology for us to locate it. Let’s go.” You stood up and closed the ship before you started down the hill to the much more organized lights. “We’re going to have to find a way in. You can shape shift and I’ll try and find some sort of disguise.” Loki nodded and started down the hill after you. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t silently praying that it was there somewhere. But things are rarely easy, huh?

***

#loki x reader #loki #salem #saved work #fanfic

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starker-stories · 4 years

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🎉Happy Birthday To Me🎂

Reposting this for Tony’s 50th birthday

May 29, 1970

Tony wasn’t one to pout. He would deny it to his dying day. Well, his re-dying day. Honestly, it was ridiculous. He’d spent most of his life with one day never mattering more than another. Especially this one. He was usually busy trying to find an excuse not to come home from school after term ended. Or busy with an internship. Or busy working. Or just generally busy. Which he should be today.

But life had slowed down a little. A little more once he and Peter moved in together. With his lover waiting in bed for him every night, he rarely stayed up past midnight in the workshop. Peter insisted that he eat at least one meal a day. Which he did. Breakfast. With Peter. Which he did today. Exactly as usual. Like every single other day of the year.

Well, not every one. Major holidays were observed now since Peter enjoyed observing them. And Peter’s birthday was certainly never missed. How could Tony forget the day they finally got together? After he’d valiantly waited three years, until the boy turned twenty, to ask him on a date. The birthday dinner ended with Tony asking him to move in with him. When they hadn’t even dated. When they hadn’t even kissed. When they hadn’t even done anything yet. Rushing ahead of the typical schedule, earned him a laughing, but emphatic ‘yes’. Tony had never been one to do anything typical.

After they got home from dinner, Tony gave Peter his first birthday present. Before they lived together, Peter’s birthday fell in the category of everyone else’s — usually forgotten and then made up with a ‘get yourself something nice’. Tony’d put the kid on his personal account. Ostensibly the account access was for the kid’s lab budget and school expenses. But it was unlimited, the same as Pepper’s was, even after their ‘til death do you part’ divorce.

His twentieth birthday present was something ridiculously expensive. Peter objected of course, but stopped when he noticed that Tony had actually been hurt at his rejection. It wasn’t that he was trying to buy Peter’s affection, it was that picking out the perfect present had taken a lot of work. And in this case, writing the perfect inscription (when Tony’s mind didn’t exactly work in that direction!) Of course it was expensive. Tony found exactly what he wanted to get for Peter (and wrote words; actual romantic words!) It wasn’t like he’d ever looked at a price tag in his life. Or that he wasn’t a billionaire. A million five was nothing to him. And it was pretty. He knew Peter would love the beauty and appreciate the craftsmanship of the delicate wheels and cogs turning underneath the glass. He simply hoped the back of the watch would prove equally as beautiful of a reminder of both his birthday and the change in their relationship. The tears Peter cried proved that.

That was the end of the price tag argument. Which meant that every year Tony spent months before August tenth planning. (To be honest, he started thinking about it on August eleventh). Twenty-one was a bit more modest. Peter had been asking to learn his way around the garage. Tony found the perfect thing to teach him on. He bought an absolute wreck of a ’70 Dodge Coronet convertible. It had its original Hemi engine — though in about as good a condition as the body. It was a four-seater, so Peter could take his friends with him. But the best part was they’d work on it together for the rest of the year. He gave him the keys at a special breakfast. Tony knew Peter would spend the evening with his friends taking him out for his first legal drinking binge. That was fine with him. As long as they spent the morning together. That set the pattern for the years after.

Twenty-two, the year he got his BS, they left the following day for the start of his present. Peter was spectacularly hungover from the party Ned threw for him (drunk Peter was hilarious as it was found out the previous year, and his best friend couldn't resist.) But the flight attendant made a mean bloody Mary as they flew to Italy. It was the start of an absolutely indulgent vacation that lasted until it was time for Peter to begin his masters’ study. Without interruption. By Stark or by the Avengers. Just the two of them.

Last year, when Peter turned twenty-three… well… that was the day Tony proposed. Enough said.

Their wedding was scheduled for Peter’s twenty-fourth. But Tony’s birthday was a month and a half before Peter’s. It wasn’t like he particularly wanted to remember the fact that on May twenty-ninth he was turning fifty and his fiance was going to be twenty-six years younger than him on their wedding day.

So it was ridiculous to be pouting over Peter’s hurried leave after their breakfast. He’d decided to do concurrent masters in chemistry and mechanical engineering. (He’d loved working on the Coronet.) That meant year-round study. Which he was late for, he announced, leaving with his usual cup of coffee and a handful of bacon.

Going downstairs to the workshop would just give Tony more time to sulk as he pretended to work. So he headed further downstairs to the twenty-fifth floor and his office at Stark. If he was going to be miserable, he might as well actually go down to his office and… ugh… look at whatever Pepper left sitting on his desk since he’d last bothered to show up.

The situation was only made worse by the fact that Pepper remembered. But it was made infinitely better when Morgan showed up for lunch, giving Tony an excuse to beg off the rest of his day to take her shopping after they ate. For which she was already, at only eleven, developing quite the passion. It didn’t help that her dad indulged that passion to an outrageous degree and refused to listen to reason. Pepper was going to be far less than thrilled that the basement of her brownstone was going to be converted into a full lab for their genius daughter. Their shopping consisted of clearing out the nearest scientific supply house. But at least Tony didn’t buy her half of FAO Schwarz this shopping trip. (It wasn’t even anywhere close to half, though that trip claimed Pepper’s attic as Morgan’s playroom. Pepper clearly needed a bigger house. Morgan was a growing child.)

Tony got home very late for dinner (after dropping Morgan off at home and dealing with Pepper’s wrath), but since today was apparently no different from any other, it wasn’t unusual for him to be very late for dinner.

And nothing was missed. Peter was sitting at the dining table, surrounded by books and nibbling on a ham sandwich.

All right, Tony would admit to pouting, and sulking, when he begged off later that night, claiming exhaustion from his and Morgan’s adventure.

After another two days, Tony simply got over it. He was fifty years old for chrissakes. He hadn’t been upset over a missed birthday since he was five. Just because Peter remembered for the past three years, didn’t mean that he was going to continue. Tony would occasionally remember someone’s birthday back in the day. Sometimes, accidentally, even twice in a row. He was busy. Peter was busy. Birthdays were an irrelevant marking of the passing of time. And he had made time irrelevant anyway.

~~~~~

Peter made breakfast that morning. Tony knew before he even got out of bed. He smelled the previous failures. He went to shower, giving the kid time to start over… yet again. The omelette waiting for him looked about as good as the one he served Pepper after the Whiplash incident. Before he had his personal chef teach him how to cook. And the bacon was only slightly black around the edges.

At least the kid had learned how to make a proper cup of coffee. But Tony smiled as he ate it. When they were married, and offence wouldn’t call the event off, he would suggest calling his former chef to give a lesson, or three dozen, to Peter. Maybe even save the Queens Fire Department and make it shared lessons for both him and May.

Peter teased him about being an old man now, officially. Tony took it in stride. He had just turned fifty after all. Then the kid led him to ‘Peter’s’ Star Wars room (that they actually shared, though Tony admitted that to no one.) Sitting in the middle of a new display case was a miniature of Darth Vader’s TIE fighter that was the prop actually used in the filming of the Death Star trench run.

They both babbled on endlessly about the trivia surrounding its use. Including the oft-heard story about how, out of his friend group on Long Island, Tony always played Vader. But new to the story was Tony showing Peter a scan of the schematic he made when he was seven (as the boy-genius son of Howard Stark, every paper he so much as scribbled on had been kept.) He built his own TIE after wrecking four of the toy ones. His lasted the rest of the summer but was lost sometime after he went to school. This one, though fragile and would never be touched, was infinitely better.

Which led to them spending the day on the sofa, watching the ‘original trilogy’, which as always, earned Peter a glare when he referred that way to the only Star Wars movies that existed. Six hours later, much of the movies had been missed due to kissing. But it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen them multiple hundreds of times already. Tony didn’t like to go out on his birthday. Dealing with the crowds of the curious and paparazzi wasn’t his idea of fun. Since Peter had ‘cooked’ breakfast, he started cooking dinner.

Tony was chopping vegetables when he noticed that Peter had become quiet. Not just quiet, but still.

“I forgot,” Peter said sheepishly.

“What did you forget?” He scraped the onions into a hot saute pan.

“Your birthday.” Peter ducked his head. “I forgot it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding? You just gave me the best present I’ve ever gotten in my life. You didn’t forget anything.”

“Yeah, I forgot. I was so involved in writing my quantum mechanics paper that I forgot your birthday.”

Tony laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Peter shook his head. “No. I forgot.”

Tony’s laugh turned into a giggle. “You mean you raided my ridiculously small collection of recreated Pym Particles and cracked into the safe where I keep the time GPSs to go back in time and fix the fact that you forgot my birthday?”

“Yes!” Peter said in a huff. “You should be angry with me!”

Tony went around the counter and gave Peter a hug, followed by a quick kiss. “Pete, how can I be angry with you for that? You got me two birthday presents. The TIE fighter is great and I love it. But you created another whole branch of the multiverse just so you could give it to me.”

“Two branches,” Peter said, ducking his head again. “I had to go back and convince the owner to sell me the TIE.”

“Oh that is fantastic!” Tony leaned back, still holding Peter around the waist. “Two branches of the multiverse exist where my fiance, the brilliant Peter Parker, was so involved in his quantum mechanics paper that he forgot my birthday.” He brought Peter into a passionate kiss. “You are amazing and you are going to be the perfect husband for me. Because that… that is such a me thing to do it’s not even funny.”

Peter laughed. “It is, isn’t it.”

“Yeah. Why do you think I wrote ‘to the next Tony Stark’ on my glasses and not ‘to the next Iron Man’? You’re almost more me than me. I love you, baby.”

“You’re burning the onions.” Peter grinned. “And that is such a me thing to do.”

Also on AO3

#Starker #Tony Stark's Birthday #fuzzy timelines

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years

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Wait, no! [Or ‘Feathers’ - 1º Day]

Kanene’s note: Me??? Still translating Tickletober fafics??? OH YEEEEEAH!!!

Okay, okay, but, look: In my defense, the first version was just not good enough for me to translate it,, but then I went out internet and FOR SOME REASON THE INSPIRATION JUST BROKE INTO MY HOUSE, MADE ME LOOK IN A VERY OLD WORD DOC. IN MY COMPUTER

And when I realized, I was already in the fourth page-

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Patton , LereRoman, Lee!Virgil, Lee!Logan and... Ler!Feathers, I guess? xDDD

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are fabulous arts in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 1500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* E a versão em brasileiro será reescrita assim que eu puder! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Watch a fun video, listen some songs that can make you travel across the universe and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

- Okay. Okay. Patton, it’s your turn!! – Roman spin in a grand flourish, showing to the excited, almost as much as he is, parental side. Logan let go an exasperate “Thanks Sherlock” and quickly move away, opening space for the other wearing cardigan gets closer in bouncy steps.

- Now let me see… - The embodiment of creativity began to encircling Patton, being cautious to not step into the circle carefully traced in the middle of the shiny floor of his room. The one with black rims glasses controlled himself the best he could with the warm, euphoric feeling running across his veins to not follow Roman and stay still in his actual position, knowing how much the other got excited about his new idea, which in the next video, each of them would emerge surrounded by a small tornado of something that represented the personality of said side. – It has to be suave, light but at the same time explode in a rainbow of colors for show all the facets of yourself and also to demonstrate your fun side, of course.

- Are you sure that we can’t have puppies to represent your happy pappy Pawtton, kiddo?

Logan groan in distance, Patton’s smile just increase, don’t lasting much before becoming a small pout when Roman just shook his head, concentrated eyes flying everywhere, wandering among options and possibilities that none of them could see.

- I would love it, my dear Padre. – A bit of a grin shined his features, maybe due the pun from the parental side or the incapacity of the same to hide his enthusiasm and literally, yet slightly, beaming in his tip toes. However, his expression quickly changed to a thoughtful one. – But it for best all of us keep alive beings far away from thi- OH YES, EUREKA! – Jump, victory pose, bold smile. – The perfect idea!!! Patton, sink out!!

The cat lover did what said. Creativity’s representation rubbed his hands and made some arms stretches, fingers wiggling and each piece of himself radiating pride for his brainstorming, especially in the cocky grin directed to the aspect behind the holophote, who stared back with the best angry frown, his song blastering through the room even with his headphones on.

- VIRGIL, YOUR TIME HAS ARRIVED!! LIGHT, CAMERA AND ACTION!

- I don’t have any idea of how the heck you guys manage to drag me into these things. – The grumpy, acid reply was followed by the bright of the object being turned on and direct towards the painted circle. Roman, finally summoned, not before his usual series of flourishes and magic gestures, a weak tornado of stunning, although velvety, colors, which swirled fastly enough to transform its entirety in a dance of senses, however slow enough to be able for who watched to differentiate between each one of the feathers with a little bit of concentration.

- PATTON, COME UP!

The problem in conjurations: You can’t always have the best control over the things created due this. Get this fact together with an embodiment of the moral and feelings excited in a way to not remember the exactly place where he should reappear and very much probably your result will be a high pitched squeal of a poor unfortunate Patton as he felt a bunch of feathers get into his shirt and immediately fell in the ground, too much occupied with his squirming only increasing the feeling of the fluff objects spinning across his stomach and sides in light strokes causing unbearable tingles in every place it touched (and tickled) to really notice that, in consequence of his move a large part of the others feathers speeded thought the place without any control and having a really fond spot to explore any infinitesimal possibility to run into any researchable shirt and the ticklish bodies that it covered.

- No! NononononononO!!

They were really suave sensations, but at the same time so impossible to ignore that in only a few seconds after the ‘explosion’, the others three sides followed Patton’s lead and rolled, squirmed, kicked on the floor, seeking to expel the tickly feathers that danced, floated and swirled in every sensitive spot that they managed to find.

- NahahahaHAHAHAHAHahahahaha!! – Virgil shrugged, struggling to protect his neck from some of the ones that insistently dragged themselves from the shell of his ear, slowly wiggling to the base of his neck, focusing some mean strokes there before making all the way up one more time, and then one more and one more and one more, just caring to change to the other side or deviating their attention to concentrate in the spot right under his chin, getting few mixes between squeaky muffled snort and the low giggles flying from the huge smile, so rare, which took over his lips. – ROHOHOHOHOHOHOHOMahahahahaahahah!! – His hands went up in the attempt to do something before immediately going down when he felt two feathers get into his sleeves, quickly went dangerously close to his armpits. – Ihihihihihi gohohohohohohna to KILL – Squeak, squeak, squeak. – YOHOHOHOHOHOU! NAHAHAHA!

- Nohohohohohohoho! Ple-hehehehe-pleHEHEHEASE! – Patton knew, deep in himself he really knew, that it was useless to beg to inanimate beings mercy. Albeit, in the exactly instant three of the fluffiest, tickliest feathers he even felt in his whole life found his unfairly, extremely sensitive bellybutton, the tip of them digging and carefully spreading the tickles equally in its walls, sometimes even slipping to the unprotected skin outside the tickle spot, spinning and spinning nonstop. - NOT THEREHEHEHEHEHE! NahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! - He didn’t care if they could hear or even understand him, specially when his trashing pushed his shirt up and in the same second four others feathers, two using their quill and two their fluff part, traced the entirety of his waistline, exploding a shriek between his loud, belly (pun inserted) laughter.

- ROHOHOHOHomahahahaan!! – Some few feathers manage to brutally attack his armpits in gentle strokes, leading Logan to maintain a strong grip of his hands in his hair strays, even if that meaned let enough space to the diabolic tickly tools dance in spirals into the sensitive skin, liberating electric shivers that got more unbearable every time they got in the middle of his pits and made all the reverse way back only to repeat the pattern a couple more of times again, just because he knew it would be worse if he let his instincts take over and low his arms. The single thought of the attackers stuck in his armpits being enough to make a blush burn in his features and his ticklishness increase as his arms trembled as his will power. - Mahahahahahahake it STOHOHOHOHOHOP!! – However, when he felt the quills starting to poke and draw whatever thing a feather would knew draw in every inches of not only his pits, but also his upper ribs and biceps, leading his laughter to rose some octaves and his eyes close tightly, as if this would help to ignore the feeling, the usually serious and rational side really thought in just give up and fall into the same beg technique as Patton.

- It isn’t uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhunder my cONTROHOHOhohohOL – The prince kicked as a large amount of feathers got into his pants and now focused in happily, quickly scribble and flutter around his calves, his fight only leading them to spread and therefore research a bigger area, as well as it gave new spots to satiate they curiosity, for example the skin extremely susceptible to soft touches behind his knees which made a loud, uncontrollable laughter escape from his mouth. – At least NOT ANYMOHOHOHOHOHORE!! – And then squeals took over his vocal chords, especially when, for instinct, Roman hugged his legs and trapped some feathers which now angrily wiggled behind his knees and seemed to make all the others tickle-attack with full force and speed, resulting to their creator to unfold himself and trash before the sensation become unbearable again and he hugged his legs, all the cycle repeating, again.

Nothing more than laughter answered the aspect of romance, and, if he was being honest, maybe yes: Roman could stop all the tickly, evil feathers if he managed to get enough will and concentration. However, as his laughter reverberated amongst the others’ and that warm feeling filled their (faces and) hearts in a melody that lighted his soul, he wondered when this will power would ever appear.

#Lee!Virgil #Lee!Patton #Lee!Logan #Lee!Roman #Ler.. feathers???#I mean tecnically it was Roman's fault so fghjukilkjhgf #Tickle fanfiction #Sanders Sides Tickling #Ticklish!Virgil #Ticklish!Patton #Ticklish!Logan #Ticklish!Roman #Tickling #Oneshot #KaneneFic #KaneneArt #Patton nO-#Tw: Tornado Mention

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neworoldnews · 3 years

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If your attention was ever caught by a fascinating theme, you know the feeling of being sucked into a mental dialogue.

Your inner voice, usually wandering on its aimless distractions, suddenly clicks! Dropping through a vortex of questions that curiosity begs to scratch.

This synchronised state of mind is rarely triggered during our daily tasks. So when it kicks, you are pumped with a focus strong enough to keep you wondering for hours. The Perception-high.

You mostly navigate in a pre-digested world, seeing what you would expect to see. Conditioned by predispositions, past experiences or hurried backup-conclusions.

Imagine perception as a color. The full rainbow representing the Object and each color a possible Perspective:

This is the perfect metaphor. Just like color is a brain’s hack to help you navigate, and not a property of the object itself, so your conditionings keep you moving in an otherwise overwhelming environment.

This eases decision making and enables action in an otherwise infinity of ponderation.

The mind reinforces the lessons you’ve gathered and the natural tendencies you have. It then paints the world according to your position at the rainbow.

When you look at something, you are actually throwing your colours at it and gazing back at the reflection. Imprisoned by a bubble of your own echo, moulded by imperfect barriers that guide your way into practicality.

Often, not aware of this colourful spectrum, we keep confusing our simplistic representations with the things in itself. The world stretches through our eyes so widely that is hard to notice our frontiers within it.

Just like someone before Newton wouldn’t see gravity in a fallen apple, who has never fallen in love will be blind to the colours of Romeo & Juliet:

The book is open, the apple cracks against the ground. Yet the observer will place the respective color in front of the object, collecting no more than a monochromatic representation. “God wanted the apple to fall”, colorises the priest; “what a teenage angst thing to do, Romeo”, scribbles the unlovable.

Think about the most practical and material-oriented person you know. Now picture her/him starting to drive. Imagine them becoming aware of the noises in the engine. Is it possible that this thought crossed their mind?

“The little noises it makes, it’s telling me what to do. For my whole life those were just random noises, but turned out to be instructions all along!”

Observation highs vary hugely in degree. They can be subtle, adding a little nuance to an existing colour. Or drastic, adding a whole new pigment to the palette.

You’ve been excited about becoming aware of something you were previously blind to before. Now compare that feeling with a man getting his mind blown by seeing colors for the first time [here’s a video].

Now compare that with the moment Einstein saw Time as another dimension, changing the colour spectrum for humanity.

Sure, most of us will never dream of such an intense revelation. But no matter the gradient of these perceptions, pleasure and admiration will always be aroused.

It’s about freedom. Novelty! To escape the circle of seeing what you would expect to see is to stand above a new landscape. To contemplate old sights with a renewed eye. It’s being a tourists to everything.

If you want to better master observation, and fix a dose of that sweet Perception High, you must realize how much your conditionings affect the impressions you gather.

Understand your mind-mold

The framework in which your mind operates is a complex interplay of psychological representations and social conditionings. These are the things that compose your colour.

To become aware of your mindset its helpful to play with some questions first. Let’s start small, with an experiment:

Think about riding a bicycle to work tomorrow. Allow yourself to reflect on the way you reason while answering these questions:

Check my emotional pulse. Have I intuitively made up my mind before pondering?

How did I tackled it, “why not” or “why would I”? How can that be a byproduct of my education?

Can I attach a fear to my decision-making? What fear would that be?

Is my analysis based on hopes or dislikes? Can those hopes be achieved or those dislikes avoided by my present self?

Is there any stereotype or belief on my thought process? What is it?

This is important because it put you in a original position. Like stretching for your eyes, preparing you to see.

Henrique Pousão was a naturalistic painter who deeply understood the power of learning how to see. To patiently allow the eye to catch up with every side, to delay judgment and isolate the different impulses that suggest a conclusion.

For him observation was in itself an act of Creation.

TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT HIS PAINTING:

This young boy, joyfully staring at us with mellow eyes, resting from the stillness of posing, may be one of the most iconic, yet ignored, symbols regarding Observation-Creation.

It’s amazing how natural the pictured moment is.

The scene couldn’t be less pretentious, the studio is perfectly ordinary, the kid sits in a relaxed and childish way, even the working environment is somewhat mild.

It looks like you just walked in the middle of the action. Your presence caused an Interruption, so you are caught by a delightful smile and two proud eyes staring for approval.

In fact, this painting is all about Interruptions.

The boy stops posing to show you his own version of himself, drawn on a little piece of paper. Behind him, on the canvas, is the painter’s sketch for the child’s picture.

So, how many painting are here, and what can they teach us about Observation?

1 — The Child’s Sketch

The boy shows no respect for the ritual of painting.

Turning his back on the canvas while breaking his pose, the child interrupts the painter to show a rippled piece of paper. He doesn’t do it out of malice nor ignorance, but out of a light-hearted disregard for convention.

Why show reverence to something just because it’s drawn in a proper canvas? Why not be proud of a piece of paper if it’s saturated with the same matter as the masterpieces: Pure Creativity.

The Child doesn’t aspire to rebel against anything, there is no duty in his creation. But the force he is driven by shows no mercy to authority, it is empowered by the value of curiosity and excitement in itself.

All principles are new and noble, all approaches worth considering. “Truth” is but a toy to be played with, open to amusing construction, while ideas are molded, tossed, mixed and joint like pieces of LEGO.

Nothing is too absurd, nothing is too serious, nothing is too evident!

It there was not a child in our way to Perception High, then Galileo Galilei would never have dropped balls from the Leaning Tower of Pisa, disclaming the solemn Aristotelian theory of gravity.

Never would Hennig Brand boild his own piss to discover phosphorus, or would anyone conceive the idea of a cat being both alive and dead at the same time.

It’s all about the freedom, the innocence, to level all that was thought and seen to a common ground where new values and concepts can flourish.

Interrupting authority, fuelled by Pure Creativity.

2 — The Canvas Draft

The draft presents a perfected version of the boy, nobler and more beautiful.

His wide potato nose is portrayed as small and delicate. The hat on top of his ragged clothes even seem aristocratic. His meditative head rests upon a steady hand. There is an overall feeling of idealisation

Somewhere, right now, there’s some small group of people working in a garage, dreaming about, if every single thing goes smoothly, changing the world.

Some eventually will. If Apple, Google or Microsoft had never dreamed of the most positive possible scenario, then how could they have aspired to be what they’ve become?

While playing with an idea, feel free to extend it into it’s most extreme scenario. Elaborate a whole mental experiment, or invent completely new laws and models.

The painter interrupts the boundaries of reality to go beyond the limits of his physical theme.

This is when you don’t think about how things are, but question about how things could be.

That thought functions as an arrow, pointing to a distant bright destiny that you ought to follow. At the dawn of agriculture, a man envisioning a golden field of wheat. A revolting slave dreaming of equality. A deaf scientist wishing to hear…

Though the complete opposite is also relevant.To warning us about just how bad something can become.

These are the so-called Utopias and Dystopias, and they are both a great compass and magnifying glass, when operated by Idealization.

3 — Henrique Pousão’s Painting

There was a moment when Pousão understood he would not be satisfied with what he was portraying.

That he would be missing something if he kept on painting the initial, sketched, version of the child’s portrait. So he Interrupted it.

Seeking the noble beauty he had first envisioned would cost him authenticity. By pursuing the classic canon, the stylised portrait that is set to elevate Art from the mundane (with its picturesque backgrounds and romanticised beauty) Pousão would then be blind to the real boy.

Blind to a shy smile concealed by proud eyes. He would never notice the elegance with which the child’s ragged, old, shoes touch the ground like a ballerina. And the chance to capture a manner so subtle, so enriched with truth, would be lost.

Roar back at the loud command of expectations. Both your own and all others. Understand that you also take part in shaping the concepts that are so often taken as truth.

Doing so widens possibility. Look beyond present conventions and morals. Shape this structure, because it will eventually also change your own views in a loop. Society is an ever mutable cycle of transformation. Check any history book.

The ability to sacrifice one’s present vision and opinion is the great virtue of adaptability. To be always permeable, taking pride in once being wrong and honouring not being sure of anything.

Embracing reality in its full scope, even when contradictory or hurtful, is to be synchronised with its complexity.

Facing ugliness with a wholesome disposition is what got us using Viruses, infectious agents responsible for taking countless lives, to Cure such diseases as cancer.

4 — Your Observation as a Painter

Though the paint didn’t move, the painting has changed. It’s no longer the one you’ve first seen. It has been painted over.

For every new observation a pigment has been added. colours been deepened and shapes widen.

In any sport, game or activity, enjoyment consists in taking part, is being committed to imprint your individuality, feeling and being engaged.

You stood, facing the canvas, in the position of a Painter. Ready to pick up the brush Pousão so thoughtfully left within your reach at the left of the canvas. Reminding that it up to you to give colour to any observation.

Facing the fact that we are painters of our impressions is as empowering as liberating. It offers the world as a palette to explore, strengthening our ties with everything and setting observation as an act of creation.

In a strange way the freedom granted for painters, to enthusiastically and with imagination depict their views, don’t set them apart from reality.

Quite the contrary, it allows them a stronger connection and sensibility with it, as it promotes inquiry and critical sense. The absolute contrary of Apathy, the great responsible for neglecting one’s relation to knowledge.

If you weren’t a painter, then Pousão’s masterpiece would have a painting less: Yours, an ever-changing piece.

There is no such thing as empty things or people. Just elements filled with something you haven’t yet learned to see.

By keeping in check Pousão’s lessons things appear less solid and more like an interplay of invisible fabrics. A tissue of colours filled with nuance, waiting to be experienced from every angle.

If everyone is looked at as a painter, then discussions are more fluid, people more tolerant, observation more engaging, and things just a lot more interesting to look at.

Do you remember becoming aware of something you were blind to? What?

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Title: Mightier Than the Sword (Chapter Three)

Fandom: Witcher

Summary: A month after the events of “Rare Species,” Geralt slinks his way into an inn and is faced with the question of how an emotionless man apologies. (TV!canon with some details drawn from the books and Wild Hunt.)

Pairing: Pre-slash/slow burn Geralt and Jaskier

Word Count (This Chapter): 2,701

Where to read it: Below or on AO3

Traveling with Jaskier was as exhausting as Geralt remembered.

Only a fool would assume that was a bad thing.

Indeed, exhaustion had many forms and not all were made equal. Witchers understood that better than most. The ache from training was not the same as pain from a battle. The morning after drink could not compare to the morning after a cry—or so he’d been told. Geralt was indeed exhausted with Jaskier at his side... but he’d also been exhausted with him gone. The latter was an itchy feeling that never went away, felled not by sleep, drink, or even the occasional woman. It loosened its hold on him only when Geralt spent long afternoons talking to Roach, which was how he had been able to label it as something akin to loneliness. Not the true thing though, surely. Witchers didn’t feel the same as humans did, most felt nothing at all, so it only served to reckon they wouldn’t get lonely quite like they did either. Vesemir had given long lessons on the enhancements Geralt’s additional mutations had granted him, though little on the consequences. None of it had been hard to figure out on his own though. Not once he set out on the Path. Unlike his brethren, Geralt had... needs. Or desires rather, for he’d had little difficulty in suppressing them over the years. He found himself craving the gentle ministrations of the priestesses over the brusque treatments of rural healers, when they designed to treat a mutant at all. The conversations held with streetwalkers were at times more enjoyable than the sexual release they built to and when it was through, watching them all but sprint to the baths to be rid of him, Geralt could admit to a foreign ache in his stomach. Something he couldn’t fill with food. Admit, but not speak of. He’d once shared meat with a witcher from the School of the Viper. In turn the man had shared his crudely made alcohol. Potent stuff and within an hour Geralt’s tongue had loosened far more than he was used to, speaking of those strange moments and hoping that his companion would open his mouth across the fire, admitting to the same. Or at least to something similar.

Instead he’d accepted Geralt’s ramblings in silence, then packed his things in that same quiet, deepening it. He’d left without a word, choosing the forest over his company. He learned his lesson well and over the years Geralt had grown more adept at shoving such desires deep down where they could cause him no more strife. After all, he might also desire hot food and a feather bed to sleep in. That didn’t mean he had any hope of receiving them. It was an exhaustion he’d grown used to.

Nowadays though... Geralt’s head grew heavy because it was being stuffed with information he’d never need: the exact circumference of Lady Kathryn’s waist, what strings worked best for an Elven lute, why you must never soak a dark colored shirt with its lighter siblings, the best spots in Novigrad to buy cinnamon pastries (though Geralt admitted he might well use that last bit). Jaskier talked incessantly, until Geralt’s ears ached and his throat grew scratchy from the uncommon number of responses he was expected to give. Being forced to interact with someone from dawn to dusk ate at him in unexpected ways, so that Geralt tumbled onto his mat each night weary from something other than travel. Though it did occur to him that he might be helping create that monster. Surely Jaskier’s conversation was tied at least somewhat to the encouragement he received, yet Geralt couldn’t bring himself to dissuade him. He’d spoken harshly once and had regretted it for weeks after.

More proof of his abnormality. Witchers weren’t meant to feel regret either. Too emotional for his brothers; too unfeeling for the rest of the world. It left him somewhere in between, freakish to all who bothered to spare him a glance.

Yet here Jaskier sat. Talking.

“I really must buy a proper case for all this,” he said, carefully weighing down his papers with nearby stones. Jaskier had a tendency to rip them from his notebook while working, chucking them into the fire before realizing there was still merit and attempting to retrieve them with a squawk. Geralt had kept the fool from burning himself on more than one occasion. “Something enchanted, I think. Although...” Jaskier’s mouth twisted, the same lemon-puckered look he adopted whenever Yennefer came up. Today, Geralt found the look more amusing than offensive. “I hate to sully my work with that stuff, but it’s probably worth it in the end. Something waterproof, of course. Resistant to fire too. Oh! Maybe one of those retrieval options. You know, the fancy spells that draw the object back to your hand. And—”

“Expensive,” Geralt finished. “Even for you, Bard.”

“That’s poet,” Jaskier sniffed. “I’m hardly just a bard, Geralt. Sure, I might be forced to put my art to catchy tunes in order to keep our bellies filled—”

“Ours?”

“—but poetry is my true calling and one day you shall hear it recited from Oxenfurt Academy to the poorest villages of Velen! Provided that my writing survives our journey, of course. I just need to...” Jaskier tore a few more pages apart so that each held but a single stanza, secured them with more stones, then re-arranged the whole design, quick as a Gwent master. “What do you think? Should the description of the swamps come before the battle, or as a way of breaking it up?”

Before Jaskier conversation had been rare, but easy. Geralt knew precisely what was wanted of him and could map out the talk down to the last words he’d receive: “Fine.” “Freak.” “Quickly.” “You’d better.” The common folk wanted him to be a sword against the rest of the world. The rare woman wanted him as an easy fuck with no chance of pregnancy. Conversation led only to these two outcomes and when he’d completed either he was sent on his way. Jaskier though...

That first morning together he’d donned the clothes Geralt had stolen and done a little twirl, asking how he looked. “What’s it matter?” he’d replied, thinking of the stains and tears that would inevitably develop; whether the wool would be warm enough for a human out in this cold. Jaskier had pouted though and given him five words that had reverberated in his head for the last few days.

“I just want your opinion.”

No one had wanted Geralt’s opinion before. Not unless it was in the service of their survival. Now there was clothing and poetry and the occasional pretty thing. Geralt opened his mouth, unsure if he could force anything to come out of it. Beside him on the log Jaskier was quiet. That, more than anything else, shocked a response out of him.

“Before,” he said. Jaskier blinked.

“Why?” Genuine tone. Honest expression. Jaskier got nervous when he lied and Geralt would have heard the kick in his heartbeat.

“You don’t break up a fight. It happens. It ends.”

“Huh. I believe you’re right. Best not to interrupt the action,” and just like that the moment was broken. Jaskier surged forward, spreading his legs to scribble on the papers between them, then leaning to reach those positioned near Geralt’s boot. His writing was nigh illegible and Geralt suddenly felt compelled to mention as much.

“My handwriting? You’re one to talk given your spelling.”

“My spelling?”

Jaskier dipped into the bag where his lute lay, retrieving a few pages with unnerving accuracy. Geralt immediately recognized them as his own notes. Jaskier flapped them in his face causing him to draw back with a growl. “No one spells ‘pathetic’ as ‘pathetick’ anymore. Or ‘connection’ with an ‘x.’ Your spelling is at least a century out of date, my friend. Who taught you? A vampire?” and Jaskier laughed at his own, highly suspect joke.

“No. But I learned to spell a century past.”

“You—?”

Jaskeir’s head whipped around. He stared at Geralt. Geralt stared at him. Jaskier’s eyes were as wide as a newborn foal’s.

“Right,” he finally said. “That’s... yeah. That’s a thing. Okay then, grandfather.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He only got a noncommittal noise in response, the same one he heard whenever Geralt demanded that Jaskier not compose another song about him. He was already lost in his own words again and Geralt let him go, distracted himself. Because that had been different too. Most recoiled from his age as quickly as they did his eyes or his scars. Yet here Jaskier sat, shrugging off his age as easily as he would... well. Geralt didn’t know what to compare it to. He’d never had a need. The fool currently smearing ink on his chin was a mess of contradictions that Geralt feared he’d never untangle. As brilliant as he was dense. Brave as he was cowardly. He ran from monsters only to then willingly walk beside another and unlike those who judged him on looks and rumor alone, Jaskier had true reason to fear him. Geralt had treated him monstrously and gotten only kindness in return.

It all made his head ache. Vesemir had warned Geralt that the Path would be confusing. Humans, elves, dwarves, and halflings—they all led such complicated lives; governed by meandering social rules that witchers could never hope to master. It often made him long for the simplicity of Kaer Morhen. Even so, Geralt didn’t think that anything would have prepared Vesemir for Jaskier.

The sudden image of the two meeting burned bright in his mind, causing a suspicious twitch in Geralt’s lips.

Jaskier, meanwhile, impatiently tapped quill against paper.

“Fog sweeping

Hearts still

When rose the drowned

For troubadour bound

and came to claim his—”

Geralt, what part of a human do drowners eat?”

He nudged one of the stones further onto its paper, keeping it from flying with the breeze. “Everything.”

“Well that’s not useful.”

“And there was no fog. Or is your memory that fickle?”

“Excuse me, but I’m not the one forgetting lessons here. What have I taught you about truth and fame? They rarely go hand-in-hand.” Jaskier suddenly grinned. “A bit like coin and monsters that way.”

For some reason that smile and those words sparked a memory, an actual flitting thing that danced at the edge of his mind. Ah, of course. Triss. She had demanded to know whether there was more in Geralt’s life than beasts and payment for their slaughter. Now, looking at Jaskier, he wasn’t sure what answer he would give her.

“Far too many words that rhyme with ‘still,’” Jaskier said, oblivious to Geralt’s thoughts. Whether it was arrogance or brilliance that drove his focus, who could say. “That’s the real problem here. Too many options. You wouldn’t think it, but it’s the truth. You’re like that too with your, ah...” Oddly, color rose high into Jaskier’s cheeks as he looked back at his companion, hand making a sweeping gesture from Geralt’s head to his toes. “... everything. Your everything, Geralt. I mean, what am I supposed to describe first? Soft hair? Golden eyes? Armor bearing the marks of your survival? Though perhaps not as that’s in need of a wash.” Jaskier wrinkled his nose. “You stand out. Everything practically begs to be put to paper, but there’s only so much flattery an audience will sit through. One must pick their details wisely. Hmm. Actually, I may well opt for your hands, dear witcher. They are after all the real tools that saved me that day.”

Six hours from now Geralt would be ankle deep in a stream, trailing behind Jaskier in an effort to keep anything from sneaking up behind them, but in truth he’d once again be distracted. Uneasy about his own abilities and cursing that state. Because if a mere human could spring on him so, what would stop a creature of more cunning and skill?

Geralt should have caught the movement. Jaskier sat right beside him and yet somehow he managed to snag Geralt’s hand without him realizing, fingers cupping palm. He registered how cool the human’s skin was compared to a witcher’s blood, the calluses so similar to his own, yet residing in all the wrong places. Geralt felt a thumb tracing his lifeline, heard Jaskier’s voice as if from deep under water...

...and then instinct had him pulling away with a snarl. Geralt stumbled off the log and resisted the urge to drag his hand up against his chest. Impossibly, it felt bruised. Raw and burning in equal measure.

Jaskier froze.

“Okay,” he whispered, voice pitched low and soothing. Like he was attempting to coax a temperamental mare. Indeed, Roach flicked her ears at the noise and turned, bumping her head briefly against Geralt’s shoulder. It was only then that he realized he was still snarling, lips pulled back to reveal teeth too large and sharp for a human mouth. Jaskier had gone a shade paler than was his norm.

“No touching,” he said. “Message received. Except,” Jaskier hesitated. Geralt watched his throat bob once, then twice. “Didn’t seem that way a few days ago. You—” he briefly raised a hand, that same hand, up into his hair where he tugged at the strands. “Gods, Geralt. You can thread your hands through my hair but I can’t so much as brush you without getting... this?”

Finally, his lips receded. Geralt’s shoulders relaxed and his pupils went back to their normal size, no longer dilated for defense. “That was different.”

“How?”

“Because...”

Because it just was. It was like exhaustion. Nothing was made equal. Geralt checking Jaskier for a head wound was not the same as Jaskier touching his hand. Dragging him to Yennefer’s doorstep was not the same as the press of shoulders Jaskier had attempted over the fire last night, or the squeeze of an arm during breakfast, both of which Geralt had managed to dodge. He didn’t know why he’d failed this time and that vulnerability strangled anything else he might have said. It all died in his throat and eventually, when the silence grew, Jaskier looked away.

“Knew I shouldn’t have made that joke about chamomile and bottoms,” he muttered, rubbing at his face. “Right! Well, you needn’t worry in the future. I value my neck too much to risk it wrung over a closer look at your hands. Besides, terrible cuticles. Chipped nails and dirt beneath them. I doubt my audience wants to hear any of that.”

It hurt. Somehow it hurt to move from Jaskier’s praise to these insults, however unconvincing they may be. For Jaskier’s heart was beating like a rabbit’s and he was still avoiding Geralt’s eye. The worst was that, with a few minutes and deep breaths behind him, Geralt found that his hand no longer burned. Rather, there was a satisfying warmth that crawled up his wrist and his fingers twitched, eager to reach back. To take what he’d just rejected.

“Jaskier...”

“No, no. No need to explain. I get it, really. I’m the impulsive one. Rude too, though it’s unintentional I assure you. ‘Little fool’ my mother used to call me.”

“Jaskier.”

“I apologize, Geralt. Seriously. I shouldn’t have—”

“Jaskier would you shut up for once?”

He did, but only because by now the sounds were near enough for a human to hear. Jaskier stilled, eyes widening as two voices approached from the west. Men, with the roughened tongues of hunters. Harmless perhaps. But Geralt had never put his trust in odds, even good ones.

“Should we...?” Jaskier whispered, motioning to run. He already had a tight grip on Roach’s reins.

Geralt considered, then looked to the spread of papers still on the ground. It would take longer than the few seconds they had to gather it all up.

“No,” he said. Warmed fingers grasped the hilt of his sword. “Just keep behind me.”

Jaskier did. Close, but not so close as to touch. Geralt shoved aside the meaning of that as two shadows moved out from behind the trees.

#witcher #the witcher #twn #gerlion #jaskier #geralt #geralt x jaskier #witcherfic

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drjackandmissjo · 4 years

Text

firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine

you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

Chapter 3 --- previous chapter --- next chapter

Harry Potter fics Masterlist

"Sorry, Blaise. Can't today." That had been the customary answer from none other than Draco Malfoy, prefect and general pain in Blaise's ass, despite still being one of his best friends. Since they had started their lectures, there had been an incredible array of excuses left and right, but enough was enough and all the brain abled Slytherins agreed it was time for an intervention.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Theo began protesting, in his usual disarmingly calm behaviour: "You've been saying that since the year started!" he all but yelled at the blonde, visibly losing his temper already.

"I'm busy okay, back off" came a defensive reply that left something to be expected, yet refused to lead on more.

"No, we're not backing off on this anymore" said Blaise, still seated down in front of his irritating Herbology textbook. He could also feel his temper rising, but managed to keep it contained, remembering the neat way the muscles of a certain Gryffindor boy pulled wherever he scribbled a tiny note on a piece of parchment and choosing to focus on that to remain calm. He was really grateful they didn't have a legilimens in their house, otherwise things would've been even more awkward that usual. "Is this because of your new fancy position?" he asked, mustering as little discomfort as possible in his words, although the mere idea bothered him infinitely.

Draco's face paled of all its blood, eyes darting to look behind them all and to asses that nobody was spying on their conversation. "You know very damn well I can't talk about it!"

"Draco, you shouldn't keep secrets, you'll get wrinkles!" said Pansy, gazing her perfectly manicured fingers as lazily as possible. Blaise had wondered for their entire first year if she truly did not care about anything in the world or if that was an act, but quickly discovered that she cared way too much on occasion and it was smothering to say the least.

But her nonchalant remark snapped Draco out of his mind, and he replied with a hissed "Shut the fuck up Parkinson or I'll hex you into next week."

Blaise and Theo both laughed at the attempted threat, doubling over themselves in laughter as Pansy snickered sprawled over her chair. "How, may I ask, do you suppose to do so?" she asked, her blood red lips gleaming from the light of the fireplace in front of her, "You haven't been paying attention to class as much as you used to. You spend all your time daydreaming or staring at Saint Potter's tush" she added in a matter of fact way, voicing the thought they all shared.

Whether Draco was distracted by whatever dirty deed the Death Eaters wanted him to do or by Saint Potter and his rather objectively well shaped backside, formed finely by years of riding a broom and training, he was still distracted nevertheless, and that wouldn't do well on their collective well-being.

The blonde moved abruptly back, yelling such a forced "I DO NOT" that nobody in their right state of mind would believe. It wasn't as if Draco was out and proud or had even remotely hinted anything, but merely from a muggle statistic point of view, a class which his mother had forced Blaise to attend during the summer and he was incredibly grateful for, it was most probable that he was some sort of queer than anything else. He spent way too much time preparing himself to even see Saint Potter in the hallways, messing his hair and slicking it back countless of times to just "show him and his loser group of friends that we're so much better!" , to be even remotely straight. All of them would still love and care for him either way, as they would for Blaise, but the young boy understood the blonde's reluctance to share that little piece of information.

"Yes, you do, you queer puff. Don't deny it" continued Pansy, not wanting to let the subject drop and inevitably side-tracking from their original battle plan. Many headaches of Blaise's were caused by Pansy's inability to follow a scheme and still the only cure he could think of was to remove her head from her shoulders and leave it on the fireplace. That would've lightened his tension for sure!

But Draco was having none of it: suddenly as red on his face as a Gryffindor robe, he stood up from the couch and began walking away towards the dormitory door, leaving their intervention unfulfilled and useless. Another reason behind Blaise's headaches was Draco's ability to ruin all his bloody plans and intentions.

"Enough with this bullshit" he called back, looking distraught and uneasy, "I don't need your help and surely you don't need mine so kindly fuck off all of you. Let me know when you drop all this crazy shit!"

Blaise followed suit, exiting through the portrait after his friend and catching him up once he was near the staircases. "The fuck you want now?" asked the blonde, ire and hatred lacing his words. Despite it all, Blaise couldn't help but notice how his roommate was shaking, fear deep in his eyes.

He knew he should've tried to comfort, he knew he should've been patient, yet he couldn't bring himself to: while it was true that Draco didn't want to get in those awful games the adults of his family played, he still swore to fulfil whatever duty was asked from him, without mentioning it to his best friends and closest allies. He had a choice and choose to cower before the Dark Lord, he gave in to the threats and the violence and the bloody stereotype that Slytherins were evil murderers.

So when he spoke finally, they weren't kind words those that came out of him: "I would've loved to spend some time with you, you stupid bitch, even if it was studying, cause we rarely even see each other anymore. You're so busy either stalking Potter or doing Salazar knows what on the fifth floor." He saw Draco's eyes widen, the fear turning into full panic and then blow away as if nothing had fazed him in usual Malfoy Manner. Another headache was coming and Blaise wondered if he could go to Madam Pomfrey and ask her " oh hello! Do you have anything to rid me of those terrible pains inflicted by my awful Death Eater roommate, along of those terrible housemates of mine? ". Now, that would surely be an interesting reaction.

"Shut up, Zabini, you don't even know what you're talking about!" Draco whispered violently, checking that nobody was eavesdropping in the empty corridor. "Well why don't you start explaining?" he fired back, standing his ground with his full height and towering over the blonde, who looked like he was about to pass out at any given moment.

" Merde " he said eventually, after having gathered his thoughts, "I cannot talk to anyone about this, okay? Not even you, no matter how hard you push. He'll kill my mum if I don't do it!" He sounded more exasperated than scared now, as if he had already rehearsed that same conversation, probably with himself.

Still, Blaise needed all the answers he could get, "You mean…?"

"Yeah."

" Porca puttana Eva ." He passed a hand over his face, going straight to his shortly cut hair as if to ground himself. He had had doubts, of course, anyone in their right mind would have them and he was really surprised nobody from Saint Potter's squad was onto him like a guard dog. But thinking is one thing, having those thoughts acknowledged and confirmed was another topic entirely. Blaise felt as if the ground would open up from the stone under their feet and swallow them both whole. "Worse ways to go " he thought blandly.

"Indeed. So all I can ask all of you to do is cover for me and have faith in what I'm doing."

He uttered a dry laugh, trying to hide the nervousness that conversation was suddenly giving him. "How can we do it if you don't even trust us?" he asked roughly, hurt and very pissed off.

Draco now looked in full disbelief, as if he had never enthralled the thought of someone not following him blindly before. He supposed it might be true, since in their previous years he was always eager to agree with the blonde. But after their fiasco with Umbridge, Blaise swore to took with a grain of salt everything. Including his friendships.

"How can I trust you lot? I'm marked. I swore an oath. When the time is right you'll be too and we'll take back what's rightfully ours."

"You talk like a madman, and hopefully I'll never have a seat at that table" he said, stumbling backwards. 'Rule number thirteen: men are easily lead and get foolish as soon as they get a taste for any type of power or violence. Do not become like one of those' his mother told him and he didn't plan on disappoint her anytime soon.

"I'm gonna go back and study for the quiz tomorrow, and I highly suggest you do to" he said dryly after a while, regarding his friend with as little interest and concern as he could. And he then turned around, ignoring Draco's feeble attempt to snatch his attention back. For a seeker, he was trash at his job.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the portrait, he was flooded with questions from his fellow housemates, but they all immediately shut up at the thunderous look on his face. Theo seemed to catch on and simply raised an eyebrow at Blaise, who pointedly ignored his roommate and moved back to his Herbology textbook. There had been whispers among the Pureblood Slytherins, many parents having fallen back into old habits and already planning the coming of their children. Blaise had not truly acknowledged those words, choosing to ignore them, never revealing his disdain towards so many of his friends' families.

His father had been amongst those and had perished when his mother was still pregnant, and she and his grandparents had raised him to loathe that idiotic, medieval, misogynistic and racist behaviour. " White idiots think like that, and you are neither" had told him his mother the first time he had brought up the Dark Lord and his antics. He agreed.

Struggling to concentrate, he tried to remember if asphodel was considered by the ancient Greeks the food of the dead or of the nymphs, but his mind was full of worries.

He definitely needed to go to the infirmary for a headache remedy very soon.

Glossary:

"Merde" s French for "shit" cause we all know that Draco's pretentious ass swears in French "Porca puttana Eva" Is basically "Holy burning shit" literally is "that fucking bitch of Eve"

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vylette-takeda · 4 years

Text

Character Tendencies

Italics - a sometime truth

Bold - a constant truth

1. smoking: the action or habit of inhaling and exhaling the smoke of tobacco or a drug. (rarely though)

2. binge drinking: the consumption of an excessive amount of alcohol in a short period of time.

3. drug abuse: the habitual taking of illegal drugs.

4. nail biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension.

5. lip biting: a common body language sign of anxiety/tension.

6. night owl: a person who is habitually active or wakeful at night.

7. early bird: a person who rises, arrives, or acts before the usual or expected time.

8. negative attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with criticism & pessimism.

9. positive attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with optimism & confidence.

10. swearing: the use of offensive language. (Only under *specific* circumstances ;) )

11. superstitious: an irrational belief that an object, action, or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome.

12. inspecting fingernails: a common body language sign of boredom.

13. scratching your neck: a common body language sign of uncertainty.

14. foot and finger tapping: a common body language sign of stress/impatience.

15. nose touch: a subtle body language sign of deceit.

16. flipping hair: a common body language sign of craving attention.

17. twirling hair: a common body language sign of flirtation.

18. cracking knuckles: a common body language sign of readiness.

19. hands behind back: a common body language sign of confidence.

20. finger pointing: a common body language sign of authority.

21. hands on hips: a common body language sign of readiness.

22. hands in pockets: a common body language sign of mistrust/reluctance.

23. frequent touch: a common body language sign of warmth/familiarity. (Only with certain people)

24. throat - clearing: a common body language sign of rejection/doubt.

25. jaw - clenching: a common body language sign of hostility.

26. eye - rolling: a common body language sign of irritation.

27. head - tilt: a common body language sign of interest.

28. whistling: to emit high - pitched sound by forcing breakthrough a small hole between one’s lips or teeth; usually to a tune.

29. humming: make a low, steady continuous sound like that of a bee; usually to a tune.

30. perfectionism: refusal to accept any standard short of perfection.

31. photographic memory: the ability to remember information or visual images in great detail.

32. paranoia: a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self - importance, typically worked into an organized system.

33. exaggeration: a statement that represents something as better or worse than it really is.

34. intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive.

35. quick - witted: showing or characterized by an ability to think or respond quickly & effectively.

36. interrupting: breaking the continuity of a conversation with one’s own statements.

37. doodling: to scribble or make rough drawings, absentmindedly.

38. irritable: having or showing a tendency to be easily annoyed.

39. gambling: to play games of chance for money; bet.

40. travel sick: suffering from nausea caused by the motion of a moving vehicle, boat, or aircraft.

41. sensitive: having or displaying a quick & delicate appreciation of others’ feelings.

42. melancholy: a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.

43. chewing gum: the exercise of chewing flavored gum which is not intended for swallowing.

44. fidgeting: to make small movements, especially of the hands & feet, through nervousness or impatience.

45. skeptical: not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations.

46. neat - freak: compulsively obsessed with cleanliness.

47. gossiping: divulging personal information about others.

48. prim: feeling or showing disapproval of anything regarded as improper; stiffly correct.

49. abbreviating: giving others nicknames/shortening names/giving pet names.

50. having a catchphrase: having a sentence or phrase typically associated with a specific person.

Tagged by wonderful @the-gunsmith-cat (I miss your face lady!)

Tagging @mai-takeda @ivyffxiv @roxinova @niomemizune @cahli-tia @roleplay-aficionado @manuellashuin @cottoncnyandy @herd-of-halla @jenpants @torr-sceadu @seina-kurokiba @voidwife @lareine-kira

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fatedfuturist · 4 years

Text

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑹𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑺.

bold – always ⁄ often ( throughout his history ) italic – sometimes ( throughout his history )

001. smoking: the action or habit of inhaling & exhaling the smoke of tobacco or a drug.

𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬. found it as a means of stress relief and to ‘fit in’ and ‘be cool.’ has since stopped, though when under extreme stress, he may be seen resorting to sporting a cigarette ; the occasion is rare and practically non-existent, though not impossible.

002. binge drinking: the consumption of an excessive amount of alcohol in a short period of time.

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞. had his first drink at five, a child under pressure by his own father. years later, he would begin to suffer under the grips of alcohol for decades, the addiction debilitating as a means of a crutch. consumed excessive amounts when stressed, depressed, or for the sake of the party. has since learned to loosen up and even go sober, though he has relapsed quite a few times in the process.

003. drug abuse: the habitual taking of illegal drugs.

𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬. primarily throughout his time during MIT and after the death of his parents. it was a crutch. he let go of drugs easier than he did alcohol.

004. nail-biting: a common body language sign of anxiety / tension. 005. lip-biting: a common body language sign of anxiety / tension. 006. night owl: a person who is habitually active or wakeful at night.

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. he can’t sleep most nights, not unless he’s exhausted himself physically, or is coaxed to head on up to bed by his significant other.

007. early bird: a person who rises , arrives , or acts before the usual or expected time. 008. negative attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with criticism & pessimism.

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲. typically pessimistic in regards to his own life, rather than the general universe or others. the signs of a man who have been worn down by the world and has been carrying the weight of said world on his shoulders for too long.

009. positive attitudes: a philosophy of approaching life with optimism & confidence.

𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞. he is, by every sense of he word, a futurist. he builds and he looks toward the future as something bigger and better than the current time. will optimistically look toward saving as many people as possible before feeling the burden of pessimism chime in.

010. swearing: the use of offensive language. 011. superstitious: an irrational belief that an object , action , or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome. 012. inspecting fingernails: a common body language sign of boredom. 013. scratching your neck: a common body language sign of uncertainty. 014. foot & finger tapping: a common body language sign of stress / impatience. 015. nose touch: a subtle body language sign of deceit. 016. flipping hair: a common body language sign of craving attention. 017. twirling hair: a common body language sign of flirtation. 018. cracking knuckles: a common body language sign of readiness. 019. hands behind back: a common body language sign of confidence. 020. finger-pointing: a common body language sign of authority. 021. hands on hips: a common body language sign of readiness. 022. hands in pockets: a common body language sign of mistrust / reluctance. 023. frequent touch: a common body language sign of warmth / familiarity.

𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭. those that do not know him or are strangers, however, are less of the receiving end of touch. touch is a matter of trust for tony, and he doesn’t trust easily.

024. throat – clearing: a common body language sign of rejection / doubt. 025. jaw – clenching: a common body language sign of hostility. 026. eye – rolling: a common body language sign of irritation. 027. head – tilt: a common body language sign of interest. 028. whistling: to emit high – pitched sound by forcing breakthrough a small hole between one’s lips or teeth; usually to a tune. 029. humming: make a low, steady continuous sound like that of a bee; usually to a tune. 030. perfectionism: refusal to accept any standard short of perfection. 031. photographic memory: the ability to remember information or visual images in great detail. 032. paranoia: a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self - importance, typically worked into an organized system.

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚. from the abuse of his father during his childhood and youth to the betrayal of people he believed would never turn their hand on him, and the death and rebirth of the universe at his hands, he has become increasingly paranoid of what comes next.

033. exaggeration: a statement that represents something as better or worse than it really is.

𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜. has a tendency to speak loud and with hyperboles when he feels the need to be melodramatic.

034. intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive. 035. quick-witted: showing or characterized by an ability to think or respond quickly & effectively. 036. interrupting: breaking the continuity of a conversation with one’s own statements.

𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. having shown symptoms of ADHD, his train of thought jumps from one cart to another, connecting thoughts in a disjointed manner, and interrupting his own original train of thought to begin with.

037. doodling: to scribble or make rough drawings, absentmindedly. 038. irritable: having or showing a tendency to be easily annoyed. 039. gambling: to play games of chance for money; bet.

𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤, he enjoyed gambling as it was fun and unpredictable. he had the money to spend. he still does, but he finds that gambling is just as bad of an addiction as anything else. now, he sticks to playful bets and challenges that do not have much danger associated to them.

040. travel – sick: suffering from nausea caused by the motion of a moving vehicle , boat , or aircraft. 041. sensitive: having or displaying a quick & delicate appreciation of others’ feelings.

𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐲. having experienced many painful and traumatic events in his lifetime, he finds it easy to relate and both sympathize and empathize with others’ and their feelings.

042. melancholy: a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐜. not for any particular reason. often has depressive episodes and occasional mood swings that drive him toward this category of feeling sadness and emptiness.

043. chewing gum: the exercise of chewing flavored gum which is not intended for swallowing. 044. fidgeting: to make small movements, especially of the hands & feet, through nervousness or impatience.

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧; it is not non-existent. tony has had a lifetime of experience in front of cameras and lights where he finds himself usually as the most uncomfortable. although he copes and performs well under the spotlight, small nervous ticks such as fidgeting in certain scenarios will still shine through when enough attention is paid on his body language.

045. skeptical: not easily convinced; having doubts or reservations. 046. neat–freak: compulsively obsessed with cleanliness. 047. gossiping: divulging personal information about others. 048. prim: feeling or showing disapproval of anything regarded as improper; stiffly correct. 049. abbreviating: giving others nicknames / shortening names / giving pet names.

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲, he finds creative monikers for others’, or shortens peoples’ names where he sees fit. some are of good taste, some are cheesy.

050. having a catchphrase: having a sentence or phrase typically associated with a specific person.

“ 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧. ”

tagged by : @fallencomrade a while ago bc i lose track as u tag me in so many good things SDHKJFSDJFDJ tagging : @stormweathered / @shlded @thawedpatriot @genotypiic @sensesdialed

#what a good reason to explain some things briefly #i know i didn't have to but im extra like that #give it all a lil more MEAT #also the messletters rly was just #me being extra #it just made everything a lil more time consuming but oh well #headcanon.

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undertaleartistshit · 4 years

Text

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186284/chapters/60573760#workskin

Aaand the next chapter of my fanfic is out! Btw, does anyone know how to put it under a cut? Cuz idk how 👀

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Chapter 2: Morning Meeting

The loud, repetitive beeping of the alarm shook Ink out of his slumber. He didn't dare open his eyes, his head felt too groggy and hazy to even think about properly waking up, however his alarm didn't fail its job of annoying him awake. Despite having no true emotions and having to rely on bottles of paint to feel, Ink made it day to day acting - almost - like a normal monster. He was happy, sassy, bright, he got annoyed *very* easily, and... he was forgetful. Was that an emotion? Ink didn't know, no one ever told him. No one explained exactly what feelings were to him. Since he FELT forgetful, he just assumed it was a feeling everyone got, just like happiness or sadness or whatever else.

Ink opened his eyes to a ceiling marbled silver and gold and walls filled with papers and ideas, sketches mostly. Color peeked through every few inches, giving the room an incomplete feeling and giving Ink the adequate motivation to get up. He hated incomplete things, hated the way it made his head ache and his spine tingle and his chest tighten. He switched the alarm off, wincing at the bright red colored numbers. 6:30. He slid his legs off the bed onto the hardwood floor, not bothering to make the bed. By his logic he was going to sleep in it again in a few hours and felt no reason to waste time on tidying it. Although it was quite contradictory to his hate of incompletion, Ink just didn't have the energy to care about the bed. It wasn't like magic or a drawing; sometimes it doesn't do what you want it to. Some days the fabric is just wrinkly, for example.

He stood up slowly, careful to not jostle his skull too much, and wove his way through the stacks of notebooks and papers and whatnot, careful not to knock anything over as he made his way to the door, the only think uncovered by paper. He took his sash off of the hanger set off to the side and made his way through the house to the living room. It was empty.

Ink was then hit with the memory of the previous night, realizing his mistake far to late.

Meanwhile, Blue was already awake in his tidy room, silently scribbling away ideas and plans at his large desk. He rarely needed sleep and he considered himself lucky, for the most part. He had only slept 3 hours the night before, but he didn't dare go to the kitchen or turn on any significant light source, in case Dream was awake. Dream was like an older and overprotective sibling, however Blue refrained from considering Dream a brother.

He wrote down idea after idea, answer after question, in beautiful cursive handwriting. He was almost done when a soft alarm went off in his pocket. He took out his rather modern phone, shutting off the buzzing immediately. He sighed softly, looking at the time. 6:30 already. Unlike the other Star Sanses and despite what people thought about Blue, he preferred to keep his phone on a dark setting and color scheme. In fact, most objects in his room where either a soft neutral color or a darker color. His eyes didn't burn that way.

He stood up, putting his pen down and pulling out a sweatshirt to wear instead of a tang top. It reminded him of his battle body. He never put it on anymore. He was pretty sure he burned it or at least tossed it. In the past. He shook his head, pulling the grey article of clothing over his skull and left the room soundlessly. He wasn't in the mood to get snapped at by either of his teammates, and no amount of them saving him could put him in the mood for that.

He stopped before going into the living room, taking a second to stop and self reflect. He was still riled up from being kidnapped just two days ago, plus last night's argument between Dream and Ink, and he needed some time to calm himself. He couldn't go into battle like this or even simply have a civilized discussion without his survival instincts kicking in. He had to tell Ink and Dream about it but he had no idea how the two would react. He wanted to put it off but if something happened than he would have no choice. Despite this, he decided to wait.

Blue casually strolled into the room, sitting down besides Ink on the couch, who seemed to be just... blah. "Mornin' Blue," Ink mumbled with a sour biting tone. "Good morning, Ink. Did you sleep well?" Blue inquired softly, keeping his naturally attention seeking voice low. Ink let out a 'hmpf', and let his head flop backwards. "I got sleep but there was no quality to it, if you understand what I mean." Blue didn't quite know what he meant, but he nodded believably anyways.

Dream suddenly walked into the room with a bright and happy pace. "Up and at 'em you two! We have things to do today." Ink groaned rather dramatically, and Blue sighed in frustration. Blue was generally a bright and happy person, but... today he was just so out of it. He was recovering, for Christ's sake. He wasn't happy about being kidnapped at all, and he had a lot on his mind lately.

But, being him, Blue reflected a bit on what the other two are dealing with. First off, they were immortal GODS who needed to protect and help the millions of AUs out in their Multiverse at any cost. That was already almost a good enough reason to spare them a lecture. And Blue could see why having an active mortal ally would be stressful to deal with, especially when going up against the Dark Sanses, who are by far the most dangerous beings out there. The two Gods had to watch their FRIEND get manhandled and get beaten within an inch of his life every single time they went out to fight. It must be hard on them. But Blue had to really wonder for a second. If they cared so much about him, why would they leave him to get kidnapped? The way it happened was quite stereotypical.

Before Blue could start becoming self conflicted, and start another argument within himself, a screeching ringing startled the three skeletons out of any security and peace they'd found in the last few minutes. Dream flinched harshly and wiped his head to the side and glared at the telephone with an intensity that could slice diamond. Blue had a deep blue bone club materialized in his hand in an instant, his stance tense and ready to strike at a moment's notice. Ink had his paintbrush in hand, his eyes already red, pointed and alert, his body language radiating an aura that could startle the most conditioned soldier.

But it was just a telephone call. After a few moments of just sitting there staring daggers and curses into the poor phone, Blue huffed and flopped back down on the couch with a soft thud and dissipated his club. Ink relaxed soon after, not dismissing his brush yet, and Dream grabbed the phone swiftly, not wasting another second. "Hello?... Uh, yes, we have plenty of time... Yes, we're all here toge..." Dream trailed off and his eyesockets widened, a glimmer of happiness dancing across his face. Blue and Ink looked curiously at their teammate, the two sensing either mischief or pure and utter relief and joy coming their way. Or maybe both.

"OHMYGOSHYESI'LLTELLTHEMASAP" Dream blurted, looking at Blue and Ink with a stupid wide grin. "Core found a lot of useful information about the concert thing. They said that they are actually pretty proud of their work!!" Ink cocked a bone brow in confusion and spoke with a cautious tone. "It's great they found that but... what do you mean that they're 'actually proud'? Core loves all the things that they help with."

Blue looked at the two skeletons with a tired glance. "Nevermind that Ink, make a portal already," Dream snapped and quivered with excitement. Ink rolled his eyes and and stood up with his brush, making a portal to Core. Core took a step into the room with a stack of notebooks, binders, and papers and smiled politely. "Nice to see you all again. I have some useful info."

The Star Sanses all smiled softly, except Dream, who was practically vibrating with pure euphoria. "Please sit down on the couch, Core!" Dream grinned as he ushered the monochrome seer to the couch. Dream wedged his way between Ink and Blue, hissing at the latter quietly to scoot. He patted the remaining space besides him for Core, who smiled brightly and laid their stuff out on the empty coffee table in front of them.

Blue blinked a bit, listening as Core started to explain and habitually ignoring Dream's rude gesture. It wasn't a full on conversation, so it was somewhat easier for Blue to follow. Everyone settled in, patiently listening. "So," Core began.

"I have gathered some information about the concert, and although it isn't much to go off of, it's enough to give an idea about how... well, in honesty how thought out this entire event is. First off, general stuff. The place is set in an empty AU, titled "\\\\\tale" and has 3 fixated portal ports, presumably for crowd control. It is accessible by every AU, which may be a problem with culture clash and whatnot. And the date and time is pretty straightforward, maybe they rely on people to translate timezones? We may need to do our part in sending out important points to others if that's the case. The music selection will mostly consist of EDM, house, alternative rock, electro, and remixes of all sorts of other things. Any more info is in these files here."

Ink interrupted quickly. "Uh, I've never heard of \\\\\tale. What is it?" Core hummed for a second, than reached towards a binder, flipping through organized pages filled with notes and a greyscale color spectrum. After a while, Core ran their finger across a line or two, their lips moving ever so slightly in sync. "Oh, it's just an empty copy. Nothing dangero-"

Ink coughed, and pushed away from the three on the couch, and puked putred black ink all over the light colored carpet. Blue made a somewhat frustrated, somewhat skeptical grunting sound, and raced to the closest closet to grab cleaning supplies before the ink stained the carpet. Well, badly, anyways. Dream rushed over to Ink, holding him up a bit while Core sped off to the kitchen with a pitiful "oh dear".

Core scurried back to the living room with a rag and a glass of water in tow. Blue waited until Ink was safely seated on the couch before he began cleaning the carpet vigorously, spraying anti-stain detergent onto the pale flooring, and not holding back with scrubbing. This almost reminded him of the honey-stained floors of his bro's... Blue resisted the urge to knock on his head to erase those past-thoughts out.

Ink rubbed his head, mumbling a soft apology. "Uh..." Ink started slowly. "What were we talking about again..?" Blue sighed, and muttered quiet annoyed curses to himself. Before anyone else could react, Ink glared at Blue, albeit hazily, and he growled defensively. "What's *your* problem..?" Blue glanced up at Ink with a blank expression. "Ink, I'm sorry, but the last few days have been a bit hard on me, and you and Dream as well. I didn't want to deal with your... uh... condition, so to speak on top of everything else."

Ink paused, his facial expression unreadable. Then, slowly but surely, it twisted into confusion. "What the heck happened? And you mean the puking thing right?" Blue sighed and inquired with a gentle but firm tone, balancing between patient and angry, "Do you remember ANYTHING about the concert?" Ink's eyes narrowed in suspicious perplexity, and he shook his head. Blue huffed, picking the cleaning supplies back up and placing them back where they belonged.

Dream sighed softly, putting his hand on the back of his fellow immortal. "Ink, I'll fill you in on what happened." Blue sat down in his spot, Core sitting down next to the former. Ink stared at Blue for a second, as Blue stared at nothingness with an exhausted expression. "Blue...?" Dream asked after noticing his teammates vacant air. Blue looked at the people on the couch with him, and slowly voiced his concern. "We need to work on Ink's memory." Ink looked somewhat offended, but before Blue could elaborate his reasoning, Ink blurted out in outrage.

"Yeah, you think I haven't tried?! I've tried taking notes, sending it on my phone, using connections to things or whatever!" Blue blinked at the outburst, surprised Ink got furious about such a thing. He wasn't exactly a self conscious person... maybe feelings from the fight with Dream last night were putting pressure on his already poor self control. "Well, uh... maybe there's something we haven't tried yet..?" Blue suggested. Blue felt rather helpless. Maybe he should have waited until Ink was filled in on the situation before pointing out the age-old nuisance that plagued his mind.

Ink scoffed, averting his eyes from Blue, with a shaky hiss. "Even if there were alternatives... I don't want to hear them right now. I. Don't. Care." Blue stiffened at the tone, that phrase always seemed to bring back memories after all. He took a deep breath, and-

"Ink, please calm yourself!" Dream begged. Blue blinked and nodded in agreement. "Please?" Ink glared at Blue and Dream. An eternity of silence and harsh tension passed. There was only hostility and anger in Ink's gaze. He was truly offended that Blue thought that it was an easy thing to fix.

Blue was... not in a good mindset. He wanted to smack Ink for not using his brain, he felt like crying or screaming. He wanted to snap at the others for not prioritizing such a huge problem that really needed to be fixed. He was so frustrated and stressed, and he was just so overwhelmed. He was sad and hurt that Ink turned on him so fast as well.

Dream and Core sat helplessly as Ink continued with his rant. "You know what? NO!" he screamed at Blue, grabbing his upper arm with a steely death grip. Dream gasped, reaching out to Ink to make him stop, but Ink pushed him back down. "Dude what the-" Blue panicked. It was too familiar. Too close. Too parental.

Core sat uselessly on the couch. They were worried out of their mind, as well as Dream, but they simply didn't know any of the skeletons, besides Ink, to do anything for them in the situation. If they said something, they were truly worried about the repercussions that would stem from Ink later on.

Blue struggled to get away from the Protector's angry grasp, his mind tittering between pure panic and a sense of normalcy. Ink dragged Blue to a back room. Dream sprinted after the two other skeletons before jumping and holding Ink in place. He could sense that all Ink wanted to do was to hurt Blue, and it made Dream *sick*. Blue released himself from Ink, running to his room before he had the chance to get caught again.

"ALL I WANTED TO TO WAS TALK TO HIM IN A SEPARATE ROOM!" Ink screamed at Dream and he tried to struggle out of his companion's grip. Dream held on tighter and said in a calming voice. "No, you didn't. You wanted to hurt him all because he wanted to get rid of your memory problem. He didn't know it would offend you." Ink still struggled, although too a much lesser degree. "C-c'mon Dream! That was a horrible time to bring it up though! Give me some credit here!" Dream squeezed tighter. "You don't deserve credit here, Inky. Calm down, please." Ink stopped struggling, and began to melt into the tight grip. "I... I'm so sorry..." he whispered. "You need to apologize to Blue, not me. But I forgive you anyways! And, uh, give Blue a minute to cool off before talking. He's probably really mad." Dream released his hug, and looked at Ink as Ink smiled. "Ok.."

The two walked back to the living room where Core was sitting. Dream was beginning to shake as he sat down on the couch, and Core noticed. "Dream..?" Core asked fearfully. "I'm fi... fine..." The sentence started out confident, but then Dream shivered and collapsed on Ink, who was beside him. Ink flinched, as he started to panic as well. "Uh??" Ink's confused voice rasped. "Oh. Uh. Dream probably passed out because of the abundance of negative emotions," Core commented calmly. "It would make sense after all."

Ink nodded, getting up after shrugging Dream off of his side onto the couch so that he was laying where Ink was formerly sitting. Core got off of the couch, lifting Dream's legs up and helped Ink shift Dream's unconscious form into a seemingly comfortable position. A blanket was draped over Dream, and the Guardian of Positivity's golden crown was removed and placed on the table.

Meanwhile, Blue laid on his bed, experiencing one of the worst panic attacks he's ever had. He was in the past, and the present and future paid him no mind.

~~~[]~~~

Hate, worry, apprehension, fear, anxiety, panic, frustration, anger, nervousness, sadness, and betrayal.

Nightmare's single resting eye opened from his slumber. He took a deep breath, relieved at the singular negative emotions coming from an unknown source. He stood from his simple bed, leaving and walking towards the kitchen, where his fa-... minions were eating breakfast.

"Mornin' Boss!" Cross grinned. "Good morning everyone," Nightmare greeted, walking to the coffee machine, by which Horror was leaning on the counter, his singular eyesight fixated on the filling pot. "What's gotten you up so early?" Horror inquired, slowly. He was never a quick speaker, and the gang respected that. "You're one to talk," Killer snickered. Everyone responded with various levels of laughter and chuckles. "Well," Nightmare began. "I woke up because there was a huge influx of negative emotions from some random unknown place. And I have a feeling that if we go there, we can really fuck up whoever has those feeling, y'know?"

Dust grinned creepily. "Soo you're saying this isn't a slaughter, but a torture?" Nightmare chuckled, "That's one way of putting it. I have the coordinates so we can go right after breakfast. I've never seen code like it before though, we should be careful." All the Sanses agreed, as they began to cook and sip on their preferred drinks.

Little do they know...

#undertale #blue #sans #underswap #dreamtale #a #a litte big dance #ink #ink sans #nightmare sans #dust #killer #horror #cross

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