#listen she just...she just loves him so much. he's the most beloved bug under her microscope ok | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dourpeep · 3 years

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WAIT. I'm losing my mind over that friends to lovers post you reblogged. All I can think about is college Albedo + mutual pining, romantic tension, and friends to lovers OTL

- Leaving little post it notes in his bag or inside the cover of his textbook to tell him to have a nice day or remind him to take care of himself because you know he has a tendency to work too hard sometimes!! And what if he meets up with Sucrose and Timaeus because they like to catch up and sometimes discuss their research or homework, and they see Albedo hiding a grin behind his books and think that he's solved a particularly difficult problem but it's just a cute little note you slipped him when he wasn't looking

- You stay up studying for exams with Albedo and he dozes off on your shoulder so you sit there afraid to move because you don't want to wake him but you're also dying inside

- The two of you go to the library to work but eventually get distracted so it turns into the two you sitting close together on a couch and reading each other sections from your favourite books

- I can also see him as someone who rambles about labs or new research he's absolutely taken by. Weeks later when you mention something he said before, he's a little surprised but you just tell him that you tried your best to understand everything because you know it's important to him and maybe his heart skipped a little

- Going off your headcanons: Albedo looking for little specimens and deciding it could be a fun outing with Klee so she can get some sunshine and you find the two of them in the park. You end up joining them and Albedo's heart softens seeing you and Klee laughing and smiling together!

- I remember this little headcanon you had where he snorts when laughing sometimes and imagine Albedo letting one slip out while he's with you, and Kaeya teasing him later on.

- Eventually, his friends start asking if the two of you are together because of the silent affection and teasing between the two of you. Albedo knows he likes you but he's scared a relationship will ruin everything and you're too important to lose even if it means he never says anything, but little did he know, you have feelings for him too.

Anyway, I hope you have a nice day and week! Sorry about this monster of an ask lmao

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR ALBEDO

NEVER

Like... there are two characters that I seldom, if ever, turn down and that's my beloved Albedo and beloathed Scaramouche- If you don't want me to shut up about a topic??? Like just utter word vomit???? Bring them up. Bring them up, I dare you--

Okay okay okay okay now lemme just--

oops. 1.4k words. Enjoy your headcanon drabbles, courtesy of me being a hard simp for Albedo--

College au Albedo is pretty close to how he normally is! Brilliant, though having difficulties with making friends and keeping said friends, getting carried away with experiments (did you know if you're on good enough terms with the professors, they'll vouch for you so you can use the lab when there aren't classes using them?? Yeah)...so the friendship that you have with him is certainly the closest one he has.

It'd be the kind where you knock on his dorm or apartment door at 11:45pm with some takeout and your textbooks and he'll let you in without a second thought. You slip inside and settle on the floor next to the coffee table cross-legged, setting the food out as if you don't live a good walk away. He wasn't going to sleep any time soon anyway.

Like the kind of friendship where your hand instinctively slips into his to tug him towards something cool you found or to the café where you tend to go after classes.

Even after you get to your destination, you don't let go.

Now that that has been established--the little notes you slip into his bag or on his books really began as a little reminder. Despite his keen intellect, Albedo tends to easily forget things because his mind is always going onto the next thing. So, being the great friend you are, would just slip a note to remind him to take breaks, eat a snack, or that you're supposed to go and meet Sucrose and Timaeus after class to prep for the upcoming exams.

Neither of you really know when they began to turn into doodles or 'seemingly platonic declarations of adoration'. It's normal for friends to write a heart besides "Don't forget I love you!", right? Yeah.

The smile that makes it's way on Albedo's face is unmistakable the moment that Sucrose accidentally stumbles upon a sticky note carefully tucked in one of his notebooks.

Speaking of Albedo and his tendencies to get carried away with stuff, he often functions on...minimal sleep.

Those nights that you pop up at his place to study or just hang out, he often ends up dozing off, glasses sliding uncomfortably down the bridge of his nose and hair tousled out of it's usual style.

You never plan to stay the night (though even when he's awake he insists you do because it's not as safe at night to make the commute home), but you can't just disturb his sleep when it's the first time in a while that he's probably gone without taking a capsule or two of melatonin to help himself back into some semblance of a sleep schedule.

It's these moments that you remember just how soft his hair is and just how nice his shampoo smells.

Also that he's a cuddler.

You awake in the morning, back aching and eyes squinting against the sudden brightness of the world around you and limbs tangled with your best friend. He's unbothered because his face is half-shoved against the crook of your neck.

With the library, you often find yourselves in a little game. There's so much to learn and so, so many topics through the old vanilla-scent found between pages!!

So trips to the library end up with the two of you digging and sifting to find a topic you've never heard of, sit and read for 15 minutes, then proceed to explain said topic the best you can (without looking!!). It almost always ends up with a few chuckles from Albedo as you fumble explaining (and half-making up) information and Albedo's (unfairly) great short-term memory winning out.

Speaking of...between actually studying and your little topic games, Albedo turns to you to bounce off his current observations and ideas. Sucrose and Timaeus, though both in similar majors as Albedo, are busy with their own projects and research to the point that they don't really have the time to help with stuff as extensive as his research.

Annnnd, naturally, since you don't have anything better to do and are almost always by his side, you play that part!

You listen intently no matter how dense the subject may be and no matter if you do or do not have the background knowledge.

When you ask him to explain something you don't quite understand, he can't help but blink in surprise because you were listening??? And wanted to really understand? You prove time and time again (even days, weeks later) that you listened to every word that tumbled out during his rambles.

And of course you do! Albedo's one of the most important people to you, so it's only natural that you want to show interest in his interests.

Also it's pretty cool to find out those random bits of trivia (like lobsters and their repairable telomeres-).

Klee!!!

Oh man, the first time that you met Klee was a pretty hectic day for Albedo. Due to his Aunt Alice's incredibly busy schedule, he tends to care for Klee on days that he doesn't have class.

However, that particular day he just barely finished class before he had to go and pick her up from school.

With you in tow, that is.

Immediately, the little girl brightens up at your presence, no doubt excited from what she's heard about you (listening in to Albedo's conversations with Alice and the embarrassed tone in his voice when he realizes that he's let your name slipped again and now Aunt Alice wants to know about this particular friend who's captured dear little Bedo's attentions). He's relieved when Klee doesn't immediately reveal that.

From then on, Klee insists that Albedo invites you for every outing they have.

The cafe for a quick treat? The bookstore to sit and read a few books?

"Oh, please please please?? Can they come Albedo? Klee promises that she'll be good!"

Who is he to say no?

But above all, those park days are his favorite. You end up running around with Klee, lifting her up so she can reach a particular leaf on a branch, squatting down to see a bug or lizard that she's entirely enthralled by--all while Albedo sits under the shade of a tree on a blanket, sketchbook and pencil in hand.

You don't know it (even though there's many occasions where he's shown you his sketchbook), but the pages are filled with your smile.

Around you, Albedo's found that he's most comfortable.

There's no need to hide insecurities or hold his tongue when something particularly exciting comes to mind...nor does he hold back in his laughter. Especially with your insistence that his laugh is cute.

That scenario with Kaeya is entirely an accident, proof of just how used to your presence he's become.

It's a late night and you're out with a bigger group of friends than usual, some friends that Albedo's only known since the start of college, but definitely good ones.

With a drink in your hand you all sit at a large table, chatting about anything and everything when you crack a joke and Albedo snorts.

Not like a snort with his normally quiet chuckle, either.

Instead, he's laughing hard, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and stomach hurting (and maybe it's because of the few sips of drink he's had) and he snorts. The moment the sound escapes him and he's trying hard to calm back down, Kaeya grins.

He's most definitely one of the first people to put two and two together.

After all, Albedo keeps to himself, even around them. But with you around? There's a certain spark of life that ignites.

It's no surprise that the two of you are close when all is said and done.

But that doesn't stop either of you from choking and cheeks from flushing when someone asks if you're a couple. It happens often--too often to count--and ranges between Kaeya's teasing comments and a few sweet words from an elderly woman passing by your table at the cafe.

And you laugh--you and Albedo--because no, no, you're just friends.

Right?

Then the light hits your features just right, illuminating you in a soft glow that makes your eyes shine and--

It's undeniable the way that he feels for you. The sudden quickening of his heartbeat is proof enough. You slide your drink towards him for him to try and he does the same, eyes unable to leave your lips as you take a sip and then smile.

Between the cracks of his appreciation, of this warmth, dread seeps.

Though...that was just over a week ago.

Sitting down back at his apartment, your head resting on his chest and your hands intertwined while you watch whatever's on tv, you shift. Your lips meet in a sweet kiss.

And Albedo wonders how neither of you managed to see it sooner.

#anon asks #THE FACT THAT YOU REMEMBER MY ALBEDO HEADCANONS AND STUFF MY HEARTTT #albedo x reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact x reader #albedo headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact drabbles #modern au #college au #modern au albedo

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morgana-ren · 3 years

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SUBMISSION: How about a nasty sweaty incel shiggy waiting everyday for his dad to go to work so that he could have his relief with stepmom?

Excellent submission! Love that. Love that a lot! I find it only fair to warn you, however, that I won’t be doing mommy kink for it. Mommy kink is one of my squicks, and one of the very, very few I have. I’ll do the closest thing to it though: Daddy kink. Also I find the irony of him making his little stepmom call him daddy to be absolutely hilarious.

Also this one is a great concept and I love it but it’s going to have to be a multi-parter cause it got a little bit long. Lemme know if you like the concept and I’ll continue it. Also this posted under anonymous for some reason so cheers to tumblr and its endless fucking glitches that it never fixes or seems to make any better.

Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, sexism, really gross incel behavior, nsfl things, masturbation, violent sexual fantasies, nefarious planning, horrible suggestions from even more horrible friends, absolute LOATHING of family, and entitled bastard.

There is only one thing on this planet that Tomura hates more than his father.

Only one thing can even compare to the level of abject disgust he has for his dad. Everything about the man is abhorrent and degenerate, only tolerated because Tomura is, admittedly, a NEET, and had no where else to go after graduation. But if anything- anything- could hold a candle, it would be his taste in women.

All women are trashy on some level, but his dad really manages to find ones that pretend so hard that they aren’t. Vipers behind the veneer of smiling faces clad in red lipstick and smart skirts. Always “kind”, always “thoughtful”, and always fleeting. Fickle, stupid bimbos charmed by his dads surface level charisma to quickly realize just how shallow the pool became.

Even his own mom was like that: She fucked off once she realized staying with him meant staying with his dad, and that was a sacrifice she wasn’t willing to make. So she left him to rot in this cesspit with his worthless father and no other way out.

He figures he can’t hold it against her, not as much as he’d like. A few weeks with his shriveled up paternal figure and most women quickly figure out they can do so much better. It’s in their nature to seek out the best, and that certainly isn’t Kotaro; A bumbling idiot with nothing to offer on the best of days. They don’t know any better, so they never last long after being brought home to meet his son, and those are the ones that even make it that far.

So when he starts yammering on about meeting yet another skank and how ‘in love’ he already is, Tomura’s eyes roll so far back in his head that he swears his retinas will detach. He makes a point to be around as little as possible, but somehow still manages to catch an earful about his latest fling and how excited he is for Tomura to meet her.

Great.

True to his word, Kotaro brings you home one evening, eager to impress his son with his latest catch.

His father had a lot of nerve dragging him from his room to meet you- his latest glorified slut. Adding insult to injury, you had the unmitigated gall to talk down to him like you were an adult and he wasn’t. Even though you had to crane your neck to look up and greet him, you still talked at him like he was some child. So different from you even though you were so much smaller than he was- barely even a few years older than he is, if even that.

So polite, introducing yourself and gently shaking his reluctant hand, making a point to smile at him and telling him how happy were to finally meet him and that you’d heard so much about him. Your hands were so soft, so little in comparison to his own. He dwarfs his pathetic father, practically towers over you, yet you still talk to him like you’re the adult in the equation.

So young, so pretty, though. Far better than anything his father had a right to pull. They weren’t exactly swimming in cash, the house was nothing in particular to gloat about, and he’d done enough eavesdropping around late at night to know his father suffered a particular… ailment, so it certainly wasn’t sexual satisfaction keeping you around. What was it then?

Probably nothing. You’d probably run off in a few weeks like they all do.

Kotaro is a worthless sack of drooping skin and aging bones; A ghost of a man not worthy of the phantoms he’s seen pass in his years. No longer the dominant male even in his own home: not with a stronger, more virile son coming into his prime under the roof as well. A beta male at best, withering away while his own son eclipses him in strength and intellect and physique. Tomura is in his mid twenties and blooming- His father… who even knows. He doesn’t care- he doesn’t bother to keep track.

So, maybe you really are just a dumb little whore. It would make sense. Father dearest always had been a dirty old man; A raging pervert with wandering hands and lingering eyes. Always sets his predatory sights on some cute thing too good for him.

Then again, the poisoned apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, now does it?

You’re cute enough you could have gotten some alpha at your beck and call, yet you’ve attached yourself to his worthless father who, in turn, parades you around like his most beloved trophy. Taking you to dinners he can’t afford despite your ‘insistence’ that you be allowed to pay, buying you things you claim you don’t need. Oh, how the moron dotes on his whores as if it’s enough to keep them anchored to him.

Strangely though, you don’t run off.

If anything, you sink your claws in even further, getting more and more comfortable and showing up more and more. Every time Tomura leaves his fucking room- which isn’t often- you’re there around the corner, smiling dumb and pretty and greeting him politely.

Fuck, he hates you. Hates your stupid voice, your shitty dresses, hates hearing his father happy for once.

It’s no surprise- but unwelcome no less- that he’d move you in sooner rather than later. Terrified to let you out of his sight for even a second lest you come to what little senses you have in your tiny brain and dump him. Of course, he’s quick to take on all of your burdens as his own, even if it means working overtime to support you. He’s always wanted another little housewife, and now he’s so close.

Tomura listens in on the whole conversation feeling sick to his gut.

You beg him not to- offering to pay your own way just like a good girl, but of course his dumbass dad will hear none of it. He’s more than happy to spend a couple of extra hours at work. His dad is so idiotic, so fucking blind. He’s playing right into it. He’s willing to be your workhorse if it means keeping you all to himself.

He’ll hear none of it. None of the fussing or the questions. You’re welcome in his home, he wants you there. It’s no imposition at all, he knows the house will be better with you around.

Except he forgets one crucial detail-

The son he leaves home alone with you every single day when he leaves.

You’re nothing but a nuisance, something infringing on his private space. The time he used to get home alone to spend to his own devices is now split with you flittering around the house doing whatever it is bimbos like you do. Cleaning, cooking, pretending to read, whatever. He doesn’t have to see you if he doesn’t want, sure, but he still knows you’re there and that’s more than enough to annoy him.

It’s almost like you catch on to his animosity after a while. The way he won’t greet you back, the way he utterly ignores your existence. It bugs you, and as far as he’s concerned, good.

You try to slip him up, try to get close to him and make him like you. You always set a place for him at the table even after Kotaro repeatedly insists- truthfully- that he’ll never join for dinner. Even then, you always bring the plate to his door. He never bothers to answer- not after the first few times when he only opened it a sliver to see your stupid smiling face. After that, he didn’t bother answering. He’ll eat it of course- won’t pass up free food he doesn’t have to leave his room for- and then leave the dirty dish back outside where you left it. You brought it, after all. You can clean it up.

All your efforts only get you mocked, and boy do you try so hard to get his affection. He even overhears you whining to his dad once or twice, not understanding why he doesn’t like you.

It makes him smile.

His friends- online of course, but still friends or comrades or kindred spirits or whatever- have more opportunistic ideas about it. His first post to the forum complaining about the new living situation was met with envy and awe- not necessarily the response he was expecting, though looking back on it, he supposes they were right.

lmpwrst: Why u bitchin’? Ur living with a girl ur not related to and that’s closer than any of us have gotten u ungrateful ass

KingKockRool: Go jerk off on her pillow.

Stacystabber91: take a video hold her down and fuck her then idiot

KingKockRool: No wait till she’s sleeping and jerk it on her face

st8lker: Bet she’s ugly tho if she’s dating your dad lol

Oddly enough, he doesn’t agree. That’s one thing he understands about you, loathe as he is to admit it. His new ‘stepmom’, for all her annoyances, is pretty easy on the eyes. The kinda girl that would have caught his eye in an unrelated situation and earned a permanent spot in his spank bank. Thinking about it, the whole ‘dating his dad’ situation maybe threw off his judgement more than he realized.

He’ll let the jury decide: He finds a photo on your social media, crops everyone else out of it, and hits enter. Easy peasy. He saves it to his hard drive for later too. Might as well.

‘Here, you decide then.’

Thus the shitstorm begins.

st8lker: Oh fuckkk fuck me mommy lmao

lmpwrst: Opportunity is wasted on u

Stacystabber91: you pussy punk bitch, i stand by what I said earlier. dont be a bitch and fuck the little cunt already

VolceliSwear: Whos the bitch

lmpwrst: Scratchy’s new stepmommy lol

VolceliSwear: Nice. Hit it yet?

Stacystabber91: he hasn’t cause he’s a gigantic fuckin pussy like i told you all

VolceliSwear: Come on dude you actually have that gash sleeping in your house and you haven’t made a move?

Stacystabber91: it’s not like she could say no cause you’re a big lanky bastard aren’t you? that’s one thing we got over the shortcels and you’re bigger and stronger than her so take what’s yours idiot or I will

lmpwrst: I agree with SS lol U complain all the time about not having a hole to fuck and now u do

VolceliSwear: ^^ Isn’t your dad a limp-dicked prick who can’t get it up? Someone’s gotta do it so it might as well be you. Hit the bitch so hard and fast she doesn’t know what way is up

Stacystabber91: and send pics moron I want to see tits or I’m coming over there to do it myself

It’s an… intriguing thought. To be honest, he’s never actually considered fucking you before. Had the passive thought like he does with most girls he sees, but never stopped to think on actually doing it. For some reason, there was a mental wall between him and his father’s girlfriends. But why should there be?

Depraved little bastard that he is, he’s not above cornering a girl and forcing himself on her but he’s not keen on going to jail, so he’s never escalated past creepy photos and following the occasional broad a little too closely. Maybe a couple gropes in passing… okay, maybe a lot. But he’s never gotten caught- maybe the girls don’t report it or just couldn’t find him afterward. Either way, it’s all worked out so far because he doesn’t cross certain boundaries.

Most girls are repulsed by him and his repugnant behavior, so they stay far, far away. It’s like he’s a giant blaring warning sign that they tend to heed instinctively.

But you don’t.

This is different. You live here, so close to him, so within reach. Just how close you are. How easy it would be for him to force you down and make you take it. Just how much time alone he really has with you since his father leaves and returns like clockwork. He’s got the entire day once his father leaves for work. And all night once he takes his sleeping medication. An easy, pretty little catch already wiggling in his web.

‘Maybe I will.’

That’s how it starts.

Snowball into snowstorm.

With an idea and a lot of goading from his online buddies, a monster is born and weaned on his own depravity and escalates into something very real, and very dangerous.

Tomura is achingly familiar with the scene- he’s seen enough porn to give him ample ideas. But he’s got all the time in the world. It’s hard not to rush things considering how eager he is, but it’s safer to test the waters first. Get you nice and scared so you’ll keep your pretty mouth shut unless he tells you to open it for him. See how far he can get, how much he can toy with you before you finally catch on.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll fuck him willingly. You are a stupid little slut, after all. Most of you females are deep down beneath that holier-than-thou, stuck up bitchiness you hide behind.

So he starts with a time honored tradition. He steals your panties.

The bathroom is cluttered with your shit. Your fruity shampoos and conditioners, your makeup, your perfumes. Tomura has a toothbrush and a comb he doesn’t use, a bottle of 3-1 for when he forces himself into a shower, and a singular gray towel, but the rest is between you and his father. Your body washes, your scrubs, your clothes in the hamper.

It’s easy enough to fish out a fresh pair- only a couple of hours old. Some lacy contraption you must’ve been wearing beneath your clothes and carelessly left in the bin when you showered. It’s easy to pocket them before you hear him rummaging around, and maybe you’ll miss them, but that’s not his problem. Washer eats things all the time, doesn’t it?

He’s hidden back in his room, safely dodging you before he allows himself to indulge- Bringing them to his nose and inhaling the doubled fabric of the crotch so hard that it catches on the edge of his nostrils.

Fuck, your cunt smell good- tangy and sweet but the tiniest hint of bitter. A couple of whiffs is enough to get his cock twitching, inflating into a painful hardness as he hears you walking around outside in the hallway. Shit, you’re so fuckin’ airheaded, walking around so oblivious as he tongues at the cloth that was nestled right up against your pussy until a few hours ago. He can taste you, sucking your left over essence through his teeth and he swears he’s going to cream all over the inside of his jeans if he doesn’t jerk off right now.

He’s quick to drop his sweats and sprawl on his bed, thumbing the tip of his prick and licking gratuitous stripes up the slim of your discarded panties with his tongue. You’d look so good sucking his cock; On your bruised knees, face a slathered mess of cum and saliva and running makeup. Bulge in your throat from taking him so deep and trying so hard to please him like you always do- or maybe avoid a painful punishment because he isn’t above using his hands on you and you learned that the hard way.

The thought of your ruddy, soppy face makes him throb- fucking your wet little throat until you’re suffocating, pulling out to let you breathe only to cum on your face. Yanking you up to bend you over the stove and force you to make his worthless father’s dinner with his spend tacking across your face and his cock lodged deep in your cunt. Worthless fucking sack of shit that his father is, he’d spit in it too and make you serve it to him with a smile while your actual daddy watches you do it and rewards you later with his dick fucking you between your tits.

Fuck yes, that’s what he’ll make you do. He’ll make you call him daddy when he creampies you- the opportunity is too perfect to pass. He’ll fuck his father’s pretty whore as she screams and moans for daddy’s cock while his father is away at work to pay all her frivolous bills like the beta-cuck he is. None of the work and all of the reward- as it should be.

It’s not like Kotaro can fuck you, and his friends are right. Someone should. So why not him? Why not spread your legs for your boyfriend’s younger, more powerful son? Oh, sorry, did he give you the illusion that you had a choice? He’ll take what is rightfully his and there’s not a fucking thing you or his pathetic fucking father can ever do about it.

He plucks your panties from his face, moving them instead to work over his cock. It would feel so much better if you were wearing them- grinding your sweet little cunt against his dick, begging him not to fuck you but getting so wet all the same. The silky fabric feels so good against his hypersensitive skin, coupled with the clenched pumping of his fist as he daydreams about railing you into his filthy mattress until you’re too weak to even move on your own, his cum dripping from every one of your used holes. Limp, useless little whore too fucked out to even fight him as he fucks her in the ass again-

Fantasies swirl in his head, flashes of scenarios that tease him and work him into a frenzy. He’s going to cum hard to the thought filling you, your agonized face as the tip of him knocks against the opening of your womb, buried so deep in your cute pussy that he can feel the wall that keeps him firmly locked out of your guts. So close, so tight, so warm. He’s going to pump you full to the brim like the skank you are, fill you nice and thick full of his seed and then use you again and again and again-

He feels it in his spine, waves of pleasure furling at the base and congealing together impossibly tight, so ready to burst. His thighs flex, muscles in his stomach tightening and breath staggering. Searing white behind dry, clenched eyes and his cock twitches in his palm, knot bursting deep between his legs as his hand stills momentarily. His hands twitch, cock throbbing as thick ropes of cum spill over the slats of his fingers, splattering his stomach and the waist of his sweatpants and all over your adorable little panties.

“Shit-”

Shallow, shaky breaths, still seeing stars popping behind his eyelids. Fuck, he hasn’t cum that hard in- well, a very long time. Is it the thought of having something tangible soon? His very own cunt to abuse? Grinning, he looks down at the absolutely drenched pair in his hand, sticky with fresh seed.

He thinks so.

Instinctively, he wipes the excess off his fingers and onto his dirty, rumpled black sheets, swiping across his shirt and his skin. Just another ‘mystery spot’ among the rest, soon to become a crusty, flaked white stain on the fabric among all the preexisting ones.

With some effort on his part, he sits up, still trying to catch his breath. He thought post orgasm clarity might deter him from this path, but if anything, he’s even more determined now. Why should he sit and touch himself in a dark room when there’s a perfectly good set of holes to fuck wandering around freely outside?

Oh yeah, this should work out just fine.

There’s a knock on the door while he’s still wading through his gross thoughts, softly at first but then slightly more insistent. It jolts him alert, irritating him that he’s being bothered when he’s scheming. He’s already finished the dirty dead, all ready to put himself away for now but it’s still jarring none the less when someone comes around so closely to him wanking. A quick dash at the clock tells him it’s not dinner time yet, so what gives? Why are you bothering him now? Nothing is ready yet.

He tucks himself away and quickly buries your soiled underwear in the pocket of his sweats. Quickly wiping any remnants on the knees of his pants before swinging his door open, agitation palpable as he greets your stupid, sunny face.

Speak of the she-devil.

“Hi, Tomura! Just wondering if you have any laundry or anything you want me to take!” “N-” He’s about to slam the door. About to. But you know what? You want his laundry? Sure. He’s got some for you. “Yeah- yeah, sure.”

He steps back from behind the door, letting it creak open a little as he rips off his freshly re-soiled sheets.

“Oh, good! Yeah, I’m throwing in my own so I’ll take your load too-“

Yeah you will.

Balling it up, he chucks it at you as you curiously peek your head in. You’ve never seen the inside of his room, but soon you’ll see plenty. He doesn’t know if you can feel the fresh cum on the sheets, but he’s willing to bet you can probably smell it. To your credit, you barely falter, even with the sheet cradled in your bare arms.

You’re probably having a moment of “understanding.” ‘He’s a young man with no girlfriend and no other outlet. Of course he’s going to wack off’ and all that. It’s cute, the way you pretend not to notice. That’s okay, he’ll give you something you can’t ignore.

He steps up to the door again, yanking his black shirt over his head and dropping it in your arms with a shit eating grin.

“Oh- okay, yeah-“

Your sentence halts completely as he starts to strip off his pants and you’re left staring in slight horror as your stepson strips down to his boxers in front of you before placing his sweats on the top of the pile you’re carrying- right by your face.

“I’ve got some more dirty boxers if you think you can handle anymore.” He’s grinning like a fiend, reveling in your poorly concealed discomfort as he leans against the doorframe, swinging out towards you. You’re backing away from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes up and away from his very exposed body, and especially the half hard cock tenting the front of his boxers. Your face is turning a viciously dark shade, stifling your breathing because he just knows what you’re refusing to see, you can almost certainly smell.

“Um- nope! This should be a full one! I’ll get them back to you soon!”

“Oh, take your time. No rush.”

You scurry off down the hall much quicker than your usual casual walk, probably to scrub your arms clean with iron wool. Poor little thing, just trying to be nice and this is what it gets you.

He cackles something fierce as he shuts his door again, going to look for your ruined panties to post a pic but remembering they’re still in the pocket of his sweatpants, covered in his cum and saliva. A fun little surprise for you to find when you go through pockets to ensure nothing gets stuck in the washer.

And he notices, in the coming days, you stop leaving your clothes in the hamper- or even being able to meet his eyes.

Oh, this should be fun.

#nsft #shigaraki smut #see warnings #no mommy kink i am sorry #lots of gross shit for you tho #which I assume you want cause you came to me of all people #see the warning list up top for full disclosure

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anime-grimmy-art · 3 years

Photo

Told you guys I’d ramble in due time.

I absolutely adore Bravely Default 2. It came at a really bad time cos I can’t waste 70 hours on a jrpg, but well, it’s too late to be concerned about that now. And as is tradition with me obsessing over a new game / show / whatever, you’ll basically find a fullblown review disguised as ramblings right under the cut. Be aware that I’m gonna talk about EVERYTHING, so spoilers are a given. Some maybe even for the previous Bravely Default games.

Also, if you wanna talk about this game in any capacity, hit me up, I’m DESPERATE to talk more about it.

Just for reference on how long this is gonna be, I made a voice recording while driving to remember all the points I wanna make, and that recording is almost 2 hours long. I did cut it down but still, this is gonna be a lot.

I’ll start off with the things that actually bugged me about the game, since there are only 3 things that really bothered me. First of, I really don’t like that you can name Seth. He has too much personality to be a self insert and player integration is not that big of a part in the game that this decision can be justified. It wouldn’t bother me that much if it didn’t leave a bad mark on the ending. First of all, we were robbed of Gloria desperately shouting for Seth, which makes the impact work less, and it’s just so prevalent that the name can’t be said because you have all the normal sound design going. If they’d just let the credits still play I wouldn’t have batted an eye, but because every other sound comes in it’s so obvious they’re just silently shouting in this scene, which makes it look silly. Like I said, this decision is more a detriment than an addition, and it’s a shame it casts a shadow on an otherwise heartfelt ending.

Speaking about lost potential, the other thing that really bothers me is the lost potential in certain plot points and character conclusions. I mainly mean Adam and Edna here. Both of them have been built up to be these formidable foes but they just, die. If it was just Adam I’d be fine with it, since you expect Edna to backstab him and be the actual big bad of the story, but I cannot fathom why they dropped Edna this HARD. If not Edna herself, I don’t understand why we don’t get more of a reaction from the Fairies and especially Adelle. I mean, Edna was her sole reason she left for her journey in the first place, then Edna dies and that’s it? No part where she grieves for a second? No concern from the others about Adelle? Mind you, I haven’t finished all the Sidequests, so maybe there actually is one in which this is addressed, but I think even just a Party Chat after Bad End 1 would have been sufficient to show how Adelle suddenly feels about the loss of Edna. It would have made Bad End 2 / The Secret Ending even more impactful, because, yeah, of course, you kinda know Adelle isn’t going to turn her back on fairy kind, but one of the reasons she doesn’t leave is because if Enda didn’t get a happy ending, then she shouldn’t either. It would have been amazing foreshadowing if she showed this sentiment before this scene happened. Other than that, it’s a shame that we know so little about Edna, or rather, how she became “bad”. I get she’s supposed to be corrupted by the Night’s Nexus, but how did it even come to this? It can’t have been a gradual thing, after all, Adelle says Edna was always good natured and then just disappeared one day. Really would have loved seeing more of that plot point.

Ok, last gripe I have, some choices in the soundtrack and sound design. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the OST, and I will get to that, but damn, whatever Revo used for the lead instrument in Wiswald hurts my ears. It’s a really good track, but I always have to turn down my volume because these high pitched sounds physically hurt. And for sound design. Dude, the Night’s Nexus is the least threatening, nightmare fueled abomination that ever existed. I get that its growl is kinda supposed to be layered with Edna’s or sth, but it, it just sounds silly. If they went the route of just swinging between different voices or began distorting it from phase to phase, it would have been fine. But the choice they made really made an otherwise creepy design just absolutely silly.

Ok, enough jammering, on to the good stuff. Like I said, there’s going to be a lot, so I’ll try to be brief in each aspect.

Gameplay

I honestly like the new battle mechanics more than the old ones. This individual, turn based system feels way more dynamic and it’s easier to strategies in battles. Because nothing made me more angry than setting up for a heal and the enemy suddenly being faster than me and killing my healer. Now it’s easier to plan ahead a bit.

I also found myself experimenting more with the jobs. Not sure what it really is, but none of the party members leaning more towards certain types of jobs and the job leveling being way faster probably helped.

And I know some people get up in arms because the boss sometimes can be a real pain in the ass (looking at you pope dude), I still found it very interesting getting around counters or even using these counters as a benefit. As an example, I made Adelle my main physical fighter and gave her lots of counter abilities to help her profit from being countered by enemies themselves. Now, she can attack enemies, get countered, automatically evade that counter and earn a BP at the same time. Made a lot of boss fights way easier and fun to exploit.

Music

Ok, I will try my best to be really, really brief, because in my recording this part takes up almost 40 minutes. Anyways, Revo might have just become one of my absolute favorite composers ever. I don’t know what kind of magic he used, but I initially wasn’t that impressed with the OST, but every time I listened to it, I just fell in love harder and harder. Before getting into specifics, I wanna highlight the two things that made me love this OST overall. First of all, this soundtrack almost seems like a refinement of BD’s. While losing some of that fairytale vibe, it sounds even more fantasy now. And in contrast to the original, this almost sounds more balanced? Like, BD’s OST felt high energy throughout, BD2’s on the other hand manages to find a good balance between high and low energy pieces. Like, the character themes or battle themes are absolute hype, but the overworld themes are a lot calmer and easier to listen to while exploring. Second big point that makes this soundtrack amazing is that Revo is an absolute god at using emotional progression/storytelling and leitmotifs in his songs. And heck, do I love myself my leitmotifs. You’ve got some obvious ones, like the final battle theme in which all the character themes and other leitmotifs are integrated. Then you got some maybe more subtle once, just like how the overworld themes are just the main theme, just a lot calmer and using the lead instruments of the towns of the areas.

But my absolute favourites gotta be the character themes and the main theme. I love how fitting the themes for the characters are and in general, each of them is such a bop. At first I prefered Elvis’, because I sure am a sucker for jazzy vibes, but over time Adelle’s became my fav. It’s just something about the trumpets, and how the theme almost sounds a bit melancholic and bittersweet, that drew me in. And considering her story, mostly her bad end, that the bittersweet tone really fits.

Then there’s the main theme. Just like BD’s it shouts “triumphant anthem” and it definitely gives you a very familiar vibe, but I’d argue it has even better emotional progression. Heck, the first time I heard the music start up in the reveal trailer, I didn’t have to look at the screen to know this is gonna be a BD game. Also, the credit song version had me weeping at the true end. I’m someone who’s very easily affected by music (if me shouting about soundtracks on this blog wasn’t proof enough) and just hearing that ending song, getting the after credits scene, just for the second credits to start as a freaking duet. Dude, at that point I just started sobbing, I’m not gonna lie. Just this little part showed how much Revo knows how to put emotion in a song and also write it in such a way that he can elicit strong, emotional reactions from you too.

Story

People have been complaining how the story is too boring and kinda disappointing in comparison to the last one, but I just think the games tried to accomplish different things here. Since the BD series is a celebration of old, classic jrpgs, “cliche” storytelling is a given. Though, BD did throw a lot of meta stuff in there too. BD2 in contrast just feels like a direct execution of that initial idea. It feels familiar, it feels comfy and it feels safe. Except for the little things with the endings and then overwriting the Nexus’ “save file”, BD2 doesn’t really get that meta, which is totally fine. It doesn’t try to reinvent or innovate anything, it just wants to be a fantasy story, that might be cliche, but still fun and enjoyable in its own right.

I’d also argue that the pacing is a lot better than the old game, because with BD I sometimes found myself skipping through scenes to get on with the story. Not that this game didn’t have me rushing through stuff as well, but I found it kept my intrigue way better than the original.

Characters

Next to the music, this is the part that I absolutely love the most. While, yes, they did lose a lot of potential with some characters, mostly with the villains, the main cast is just so much fun. I love these 4 dorks so, so much.

I honestly can’t stand how much people compare them to the original cast. Yes, ofc, I’ve been doing my fair share of comparisons too, but calling these four a more boring version of BD’s party physically hurts me. Because except for some initial impressions, the Heroes of Light are completely different from our beloved Warriors of Light.

While yes, Seth and Gloria give off strong Tiz and Agnes vibes at first, they both grow into such different characters that they’re not really comparable. I think this shows with Adelle and Elvis even more. I do understand how people could compare Adelle and Edea, since they’re both the feisty girl type, but I can’t understand how people can see Ringabel and Elvis as the same character type. While those two are the “suave” party members, they act so differently from another. And that’s honestly apparent the first time you meet them.

Anyways, I love these 4 so much.

We technically don’t know a lot about Seth at all, but they manage to pull so much out of just the fact that he’s a sailor, that it makes him really endearing, really fast.

I was kinda disinterested with Gloria at first, because again, the initial impression was Agnés2.0, but she grew on me a lot. Gloria is way more hard headed and honestly sassy in comparison to Agnés and I absolutely adore it.

Elvis. Elvis, my man. I love this fantasy scottosh wizard so, so much. He’s such a ridiculous character but so endearing at the same time. You got all this dorkiness, with him setting himself on fire as a student, him doing god knows what for a good drink or just laughing danger and prejudice in the face. But then you got his super empathetic and caring side. Mind you, most of his wise moments come from quoting Lady Emma, but still, as much as he’s hopeless with certain social situations, he’s actually still really good at reading the room and playing things smart. He’s a smart and powerful idiot, which makes him a danger to everyone and himself, and I love him for it. (I also can’t believe they called him Lesley I MEAN COME ON)

And then there’s Adelle. I liked her from the start, but I didn’t think she would stick out to me. I think now she’s my favourite character. Not even talking about all the stuff that happens in chapter 3 and onward, because these story threads are awesome in their own right, but there’s just something about her personality that’s interesting and appealing to me. Like I said, I’m not surprised people compare her to Edea, I did too at first, but while Edea walks very close to the line of a Tsundere, I was really surprised that Adelle is, well, not a Tsundere at all. Yeah, of course she’s putting Elvis down a lot, but that stems more from her preventing his ego from going to his head than her being all embarrassed. No, Adelle is actually really well adjusted when it comes to communication. While it’s hilarious that she and Elvis met with her chucking her shoes at him, the two just got along well right from the start. Adelle in general has this really open and helpful personality, but also doesn’t shy away from putting her foot down, even if that sometimes comes out as an embarrassed sputter. She’s also the mother hen of the group. She looks out for the other three and gets concerned about them real fast.

I dunno, Adelle just really grew on me over the course of this game, and then her kinda being paired with Elvis too, as partners and as partners, makes me like her even more. Because as much as I like their personalities individually, I like their character dynamic even more. I honestly love the relationships between all four of them a lot. You really feel them grow closer as friends and all the little character sidequests just always made me really happy.

Conclusion

You might not believe me, but I really held back there. This could probably have been 3 times its length. As much as I love this game, it’s of course not perfect. It struggles and flails in some parts a lot and it certainly has some aspects that might turn people off. But for me, it was just a very familiar and comfy game that didn’t necessarily deliver anything new, but that told its story in such a way that it still got me excited to keep going. The soundtrack is absolutely amazing and the conclusion of the story actually got me to cry. While not groundbreaking, this game is highly enjoyable and leaves you absolutely satisfied at the end.

Also, I would like to iterate that I am desperate to get more content about this game, so if you wanna chat about it, hit me up.

Anyways, anyone else felt like having a fever dream when everybody in chapter 2 started talking fantasy scottish? Cos I sure did.

#bravely default #bravely default 2 #bd #bd2 #fanart #review #ramblings #seth #gloria #adelle #elvis #elvis lesley

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buglife · 3 years

Text

In Which it is SIBLING DAY

More for Days of our (Bug) Lives!

Have you all a Hornet chapter, as she spends a day with her best siblings, Ghost and Hollow :3

---

Hornet awoke to the smell of sweets and the sound of kitchen supplies banging together.

For a moment, she was confused. She could feel that she was on something soft, something she deemed unnecessary in an effort to stay awake – so she would not succumb to the blinding light. She did not need blankets or silks for the rare times she found a crevice to rest and patch her wounds in. It was strange.

She blinked her many eyes as they adjusted to the dim lighting of the den. She was momentarily shocked to find herself here until memories caught up to her. Yes...her mother was awake and alive. She was home. The Radiance is dead. Things were stable now and no longer did she have to worry about one of the reanimated infected husks stumbling upon her in her sleep.

She wasn’t quite sure that she would ever quite get used to the feeling of safety again. The life of a princess wasn’t one any other bug would consider ‘safe’...but compared to when she guarded the kingdom? After all, most of her life was lived during the infection. She spent a better portion of her life fighting for survival...and now here she was. Safe. She had to admit that It was vastly less stressful in general.

She yawned, stretching out her limbs before climbing down from her silken hammock. She used a spare hand to rub her eyes in an effort to make them feel less tired and dry, taking the time to let her brain catch up to the rest of her body. She squinted at her calendar where she wrote down her many appointments, frowning at how full it was. Except for today, which only had two words scribbled upon the silk. ‘Sibling Day’, it read, written in stark red ink and underlined thrice to make it stand out from her many duties.

Sibling day! Of course! Her mood quickly improved from grumpy to slightly less so, it was one of the few days she could have now where she was not expected to worry about duties or talk to yet another overinflated self important bug. She imagined her sibling, Ghost, felt the same way. No duties, it would be like how it was before when it was just them in a little house in Dirthmouth, freshly freed from the infection and learning how to heal together. She missed the closeness...but sadly they all had responsibilities to clean up the mess their shared father left behind.

She grabbed her plain cloak for today, forgoing all symbols of her station, and strapping her needle to her side. Today she was just Hornet, sister to two strange but loving creatures of void, whom she still felt a protective streak too.

If she was correct, the smell and noise in the kitchen was her mother making her famous honey cookies. She maneuvered around the bridges of silk, politely waving to passing weavers as she climbed her way up to her mother’s chambers. She often found Hallownest structure to be oddly cold and ridged. She felt more at home in the sprawling tunnels of white as she leapt from string to string, before she finally arrived at some of the few structures made of stone in the village. It was her mother’s den, which had a kitchen, and the last thing they needed was a fire in the weave-ways. She arrived just in time to spot her mother, oven mitts on her many hands, pulling trays of cookies from the oven.

“Hello, my little sling,” Herrah greeted her as she placed the trays down on stone slabs to cool faster. Like Hornet, Herrah didn’t need a lot of finery to reflect her station. Instead, she seemed to exude an aura of power which made most bugs listen when she talked. “It seems that you are just in time.”

“It seems that I have, mother.” Hornet drew close to inspect the cookies. “They smell amazing.”

“I’m sure Hollow and Ghost will love them like they always do.” Herrah sounded pleased with herself. She tested the cookies and plucked up the ones that have cooled to stack into a box. “Don’t let Hollow eat too much and get sick again.”

“I won’t.”, She promised. “Will you be okay today by yourself?”

“Yes dear, I’ll have Midwife with me. You just enjoy your day with your siblings. And do tell them to visit more often! I especially love Ghost’s little husband, he sure has a lot of grit when he needs to.” Herrah laughed and a few lingering weavers laughed with her.

“Well mother, your cookies are worth the price of combat to acquire.” Hornet could tell her mother wasn’t being malicious, she was just being chaotic just like Monomon and Lurien. Why her sire decided to have all three of them in one place she would never quite understand. It’s also why she thanked the gods that their visits were rare these days and meetups they DO schedule, she can be sure it’s in a fire, explosion, and acid proof location.

“I should hope so, I did get this recipe right from Vespa after all.” Herrah smiled fondly as she finished boxing the cookies. A few silken strands was all it took to tie up the box securely before she handed it off to her daughter. “There you go, run along and have fun, okay?”

“I will Mother, thank you.” Hornet gave her mother a quick embrace before rushing out of the den. With her precious cargo tucked under one of her arms, she made her way to the tram station. Just for today, she’ll put up with having to be stuck in a small space with other bugs. Hopefully the cookies will still be warm by the time she arrived at the palace.

-----

“Do you have everything you need?” Ghost looked over the newly replaced kitchen counter, eyeing the piles of ingredients and spices that took up much of the space. They had gotten a list from their sibling, and the local farms were more than happy to provide. They honestly didn’t know what Hollow was going to do with all that zucchini. They received three baskets of the vegetable when they only asked for a single bag! They ended up having to borrow a cart to bring all the produce back to the palace.

Hollow nodded, eye curled in amusement. “Yes, I do. You though, are not to touch anything in this kitchen. I wish to keep these unburnt, thank you.” They relished in every opportunity to tease their sibling just to see how flustered they got.

“You are going to hold that fire over my head forever, aren’t you? It was only the second time it happened!” Ghost threw up their hands dramatically. Burn down a kitchen twice and suddenly you aren’t allowed to cook in it anymore. They already got the polite, but firm lecture from the palace staff to just let their husband cook. If their Majesty did wish to learn to properly cook, they urged them to avoid using live fires for now.

“Cry me a river, Ghost.” Hollow stuck out their tongue at said sibling.

“I can’t BELIEVE my beloved twin is committing treason against me!?! How dare?!?” Ghost pretended to swoon, earning them a boop to the snoot with a wooden spoon. “Oooooo you dare strike your King? Horrible!” They grabbed a spatula, fully intending to strike back.

“Dear, what are you doing?” Quirrel peeked in from behind the door way, watching the two vessels bicker and gently assault each other with kitchen appliances.

“Just getting ready for Hornet.” Ghost forgot all about the booping to slide up to their favorite pillbug, giving him a smooch. “Hollow is just being a brat.”

Hollow flipped them off with a shining, pale ore finger, a gesture which Ghost returned.

“Well, you both have fun. I will be taking over your duties today, so don’t expect me back until later.” Quirrel snorted “Have fun with Hornet, and tell her I said hi and to please not attack me in the middle of court again. I appreciate and understand that she wants to keep me ‘in practice’ in case of another assassination attempt, but it does end up causing a mess.”

Ghost remembered with a shudder. They ended up having to replace all the floors in the audience room and remodel most of the walls the last time Hornet ‘tested’ their husband. It was a very expensive ‘practice’ session.

“I’ll let her know.” Ghost nuzzled their husband again, hoping that Hornet wasn’t already down in the audience room waiting for him. “Have a good day!”

“I’ll try!” He waved and left the suite, down to do the infuriating task of listening to bugs whine all day. They’ll have to save a few cookies for him, he’d appreciate those for sure.

They turned to look back at Hollow, who was arranging things around to their liking. They hummed, pulling out pans, examining them, and placing them here and there in preparation of being filled. They had also taken time to wash all the produce, moving them around until they were nice and straight. They had always had an attention to detail, something their father sadly forced on them when they were but a hatchling. Still, it helped them In matters such as cooking.

Everyone loved Hollow’s cooking. As soon as Hollow could stand on their own again, they were learning to cook. Even with one arm, they could make the tastiest things using the dried or canned goods hidden deep in the abandoned houses. Hornet and Quirrel were quite good too, and under their tutelage it was easy to see that Hollow surpassed them both. Once Sheo and Smith made their new arm, Hollow was unstoppable in the culinary department.

If life were different, Ghost could see Hollow being a chef, but they knew their sibling loved the nail and animals more. Still, it was quite a treat when Hollow decided to cook.

“Do you need help, Hollow?” Ghost felt a little useless at the moment, just standing around and watching. They weren’t willing to catch something on fire and getting yelled at this early in the day.

Hollow shook their head. “No, go ahead and wait for Hornet so she doesn’t try to stab Tiso again.”

“Will do.” Ghost nodded and headed to the door, eager to see their sister and tease her. That is, if she was where she said she’d be and not about to jump their dear little pill bug. Ghost dissolved into void and made haste to the palace entrance...just in case.

While the two siblings had their conversation, Hornet had arrived at the Palace tram line. She got off as quickly as she could, not wanting to be boxed in with other bugs for longer than she had to. To give them credit, they did behave, but she wasn’t sure that it was due to early morning tiredness or the fact they simply got used to her. Thankful for that, she zipped away with her silk and needle to avoid the crowded station. A few flight capable bugs had the same idea, but gave her a wide berth to avoid her needle.

As she traveled she began to wonder a little. Who would be at the palace doors today? She did like Cloth, from one warrior to another. She was always eager to schedule a spar or ask how her own kingdom was doing. Tiso, she could barely stand. He annoyed her to no end, but somehow he gained enough respect from her to not just kill him. Plus it would make Ghost cry, and nobody was allowed to do that. Xena rarely was there to guard the door, so Hornet didn’t have much of a time to interact with her. She seemed to be a loner type, something she understood deeply. Ogrim of course, she dearly loved. He had taught her the basics of being a knight when she was just a little Sling. When the kingdom fell and he took up residence in the waterways, she made sure to visit. Flukes may be nasty looking, but they would do for food in a pinch, something Hornet was forced to partake in more than once.

She knew for sure that Hollow wouldn’t be there, it was their day off after-all.

Still, she expected everyone but Ghost to be there waiting for her.

She cut her thread and landed gracefully before them, standing up to assess them.

‘Hello, G-”

She gasped a squeak, as her sibling swept her up in a hug. The void around her purred and vibrated with barely contained excitement and happiness.

“Sister!” They boomed, perhaps a little louder than they meant too, as a few other bugs in the area turned to see what the commotion was. They saw her glare and quickly went to mind their own business again.

“My dear Spooder Sibling has returned, at last!” They nuzzled her forehead and she couldn’t find it in her heart to be annoyed about it.

She clutched the box of cookies in one set of arms, and unfolded the other two to return the hug. It was Sibling Day, she could afford to let her guard down for a little while. She can just enjoy the fact that she had family without some horrible plague or world ending catastrophic befalling them all. Especially since it was family she liked. She didn’t know what she’d do if the Pale King was still alive, most likely something not nice at all.

“Then let us not keep them waiting. I am sure they would like some help.” Ghost was slightly surprised by the willing touch, but recovered and begun to lead her up the winding stairs of the palace. She was getting used to casual touch again, and it felt pleasantly warm despite the cold of the void that made up their hands. She figured it was a family thing and left it at that.

Eventually, they released her. “Hollow is already upstairs. They are getting ready to start cooking.” They bounced a little on their feet, unable to contain their excitement. Hornet could barely contain her either and took one of their hands.

“I can watch, but I am not allowed to do much more than that.”

“Well, you did nearly burn down your suite...again.” She teased gently. “I can see why, as your Knight, that they would forbid you from putting yourself in danger.”

Ghost just humphed in response. “Quirrel kindly asks you to not attack him in the middle of court today. I wondered if you’d be down there waiting for him.”

“Well, it is Sibling Day. As if I would have the time to assess his combative ability.” She scoffed. “Your silly little Pillbug is safe for today.”

The statement seemed to put a little more pep in their step. As much as they joke around, Hornet really did like their husband. She just wanted to be sure that they would be ready in case of another scare. It wasn’t like she beat him up too badly. It was getting to the point where they would end in draws, something she was quite proud of. They barely arrived at the door to the Royal Suite when Hollow poked their head out of said door. They chirped and just like Ghost, ran over to pull her into a hug.

Hollow’s hugs were a little different from Ghost’s. Hollow was hyper aware of the places she did not want touched, and never hugged so tightly that she felt trapped. Gentle Hollow, with a heart bigger than most in the Kingdom, knew how to give the safest feeling hugs. Ghost was more excitable and eager, but Hollow was more careful and soft.

They gave her a nuzzle, and for a little moment, it was like when she was a sling, stealing hugs and nuzzles from Hollow when the Wyrm’s back was turned. She had called them ‘Holly’, because she couldn’t pronounce the harsh ‘ollo’ sound. Of course when caught, she always said that she ordered them to do so, but she knew the truth. It was Hollow who hugged and comforted her when she learned that her mother was going to sleep and never wake up again. Hollow wiped her tears after particularly harsh training sessions. Hollow was always there...even more than her mother or sire, though it wasn’t so much the fault of her mother.

She had despaired during the infection, her beloved Holly, suffering a fate worse than death. She had thought when Ghost returned, that finally their pain could be put to an end, but somehow clever little Ghost found a way to save them and everyone else.

She was more grateful than she could ever express.

Hollow pulled away from the hug and began to sign. “<It is good to see you, sister. Are you ready for a good day?”>

“Of course I am, because you are cooking.” She laughed as everyone piled into the room. “What’s the menu for today?”

<“Breakfast rolls, zucchini bread, TikTik and noodle soup, and roast Boolfy with garden vegetables and spices.”> They looked proud of themselves as they stepped into the kitchen and gestured around them. <“The roast I will make and put in now as it will take all day to cook and then I’ll make the bread and rolls.”>

“You are going to let me help you, right?”

Hollow nodded and handed her an apron. <”I am sure Ghost told you that they are not allowed to help?”>

“They did.” She she looked over the apron [No Bitchin’ in my Kitchen’] and tied it on.

Ghost just sat on a stool and looked like a kicked frog.

<“It’s okay, sibling. You can be the official taste tester.”> Hollow did their best to soothe Ghost’s bruised ego. All the power in the world, a god of gods, but couldn’t keep a kitchen from burning down to save their life. They seemed to be pleased with the suggestion and was content to lean over and watch.

Hornet and Hollow made quick work of dicing veggies and meats, occasionally slapping Ghost on the hand when they tried to steal little pieces. She nearly drooled when Hollow unwrapped the big chunk of boofly to douse in spices. She had gotten used to just snatching animals from the ground and eating them raw, fires were a luxury that would draw too much attention to her hiding spots. It still astonished her how plentiful food was now, she had started becoming concerned as prey started to vanish, them too being caught in the infection. But wildlife has recovered, and it brought her comfort that in case of another emergency, there would be food at least.

Hollow got the roast ready, sticking in the bottom part of the oven to slowly roast through the day while she busied herself with getting the wraps ready. She had to admit that she was a little hungry, the sight of fresh meat stirred up the want to scarf it down in case another meal was days away.

Then she saw the size of the wraps Hollow started making and realized she wasn’t going to stay hungry for long.

Hollow plated everything with all the mastery of a five star chef, only to see their creations vanish in a gnash of teeth and void the second it was set down. They weren’t offended but wished their siblings would slow down a little.

After inhaling breakfast, Ghost led them all to their private hot spring. Hornet was curious, she had never been in there, but she knew they had one. It was the only thing of luxury they requested and nobody was going to say no to that. Even then, it just looked like a regular hot spring, rocks and all, just enclosed in a room attached to the royal suite.

“Rather simple, isn’t it?” She remarked, looking over the walls where soul infused water fell down in a gentle waterfall, steaming as it filled up the pool. It looked big enough for someone to sit under it and she approved. She knew then where she was going to be.

“Less is more.” Ghost replied, bending over to check the water.

“Why is there a bench there?” She pointed, noticing the metal glinting in the low light.

“Don’t all hot springs have benches?”

She stared at them, and then looked to Hollow, who shrugged.

<“Siblings, you both need to get out more.”>

They probably spend the better part of three hours just lounging in the springs. Hornet appreciated the heat that worked its way through the joints of her chitin and eased her aches. She relaxed and let the little waterfall flow down her back and shoulders. She would definitely need to bring this up to mother. They would both probably deal with bugs a lot better if they had something like this waiting for them at the end of the day.

None of them spoke at all, they didn’t need to. It was cozy and quiet, the sounds of running water was enough to soothe her mind. She was used to quiet. More times than not, the sound of bugs everywhere, as happy as it made it, also aggravated her. It was so quiet and still then, the noise was still so new. She needed quiet moments and her siblings understood that.

The only sound came from Hollow as they rose out of the water halfway through their little spa moment.

<”I need to put the soup on”> was all they signed, and they left for but a moment, returning shortly. They had a bunch of freshly cut lavender flowers under their arms, which they threw into the spring. It just made it so much better.

Hornet must have dozed off, because she jerked to awareness she felt flicks of water being thrown on her face. Her first instinct was to grab her nail, only for her hand to meet water when she grasped to it.

“Sister,” Ghost was leaning close, eyes turned upwards in a smile. “If we stay any longer, we’re going to end up as bug soup.”

“You mean a bug and god soup.” She snorted. She raised her arms out and stretched, feeling rejuvenated.

“That and if we don’t get out, the soup Hollow made will get cold and then they’ll be sad.”

Hornet quickly stood and threw on their cloak. “Well, we can’t make them cry, that’s illegal.”

She wouldn’t admit it, but she was hungry again, and soup sounded very nice after a long dip in the springs.

How nice it was to have food when she wanted it.

-----

After soup (that was delicious of course), the siblings prepared for another part of their Sibling Day ritual.

Hornet held three paper lanterns under her arms as they took a hidden path away from the palace grounds. The Ancient basin might have been derelict and dead before, but life had returned to rim the path in glowing flowers and fungi. It once was a tunnel the Pale King would take to head to his lab down in the abyss, but Ghost had repurposed it for another reason.

They had told her that sometimes they felt the need to go down to ‘stretch’, spending time in their true form among the darkness. Too long squished in mortal sized form tended to make them feel jittery and cramped. She imagined it must feel like a molt that can’t progress and sympathized.

But it was also where the three could go to pay their respects and reflect.

The long dead siblings in the birthplace have since rejoined the void and thus, became a part of Ghost. But the individual potential they all had was now gone. Every single one of the hundreds of masks that still litter the bottom of the abyss was a thinking, feeling being, now gone forever.

Hornet was glad that at the end, they no longer had to suffer, and moved on by becoming one with her living sibling turned god. She however, wished that she could have known them. How would life be if she didn’t have two siblings, but hundreds? Before she was ignorant, and fought a few, and even separated a few shades from their shells. She forever felt regret over that even if Ghost told her that they all forgave her.

They eventually reached the dock that stretched out over the abyss and sat, legs dangling over the edge. They each took a lantern and lit the candles inside. Hornet put as much love as she could into the lantern, even if she felt a little foolish doing so, and let the lantern drift over the edge. There was nobody left to mourn in the abyss but...the ritual made her feel a little better.

Together they watched the lanterns drift slowly down, each light growing dimmer and dimmer before being consumed by the darkness. Time passed as they leaned on each other, until their legs grew numb and they headed back to the palace.

Sibling day was as much about the dead as much the living, and Hornet didn’t think she would ever forget that.

-----

Roast was served and eaten and the three found themselves lying around on the many pillows contained in the suite and looking up at the ceiling.

“Do you remember the forts we used to make in Dirthmouth?” Hornet mused. “We had more pillows and blankets than the rest of the citizens in that town combined."

<”Yes, they were the best. Very Cozy.”> Hollow’s head was next to her on the right, so she could see them sign. <”Dad was good at making them.”>

“Dad was the best at making them!” Ghost replied, to Hornet’s left. “Remember how he’d catch lumaflies to let them loose in the fort?”

“It was because they are Hollow’s favorite.” Hornet sighed, resting her hands on her belly where the roast currently resided (but not for long).

“It kinda makes me wish were were little again, before we had to do...all of this.”

There was a note of sadness in Ghost when they said that, and Hornet couldn’t help but feel the same. They managed to scrape together a few good years to be kids before responsibilities became too much to ignore. Hollow especially, since they were never even allowed to be a child. Ghost tried to remain as they were until molted a few times and could no longer get away from things by being small and cute. She would always cherish those years in Dirtmouth where she was allowed to be the child she was.

<”I know, but it’s not like we can’t do the things we like anymore. I have lumaflies, and you have the blankets and pillows.”> Hollow was quick to point out, gesturing at the room around them.

“And I can make sure you both aren’t going to build something that will collapse on your fool heads.” Hornet caught on fast, sitting up to pick up a pillow and drop it on Ghost’s face.

When Ghost didn’t respond right away, she piled more pillows on them before until they tried to escape. She laughed and sat on top of the pillow pile to trap them. “Go get your lumaflies, Holly. I think was can make something resembling the grandness of Mato’s pillow forts.”

Hollow rolled over to do just that while Hornet busied herself throwing things on top of Ghost as they tried to burrow out of the pillow pile. They were laughing too, so she didn’t feel too terrible tormenting them so. It was only when they gasped out a ‘I Yield!’ that she allowed them to escape.

The next half hour was spent with the three working together to build a passable cozy fort. Hornet was happy to see that her silk could make the structure much more sound and used it liberally. Hollow raided Ghost’s nest and took the mattress off of it to make the base, and after some trial and error, they made something quite comfortable. Hornet was especially pleased, spider eyes do not do well in bright lights, and the comforting dim haze in the fort was quite nice. Hollow released the lumaflies and the small bugs brought a lovely soft glow of colors to break up the monotony of the darkness. Ghost grabbed snacks and drinks and all three retreated inside.

As an after thought, Hornet grabbed a spare sheet of silk and wrote ‘No Wyrms Allowed’ and stuck it to the side of the fort. Somehow, it made her feel a little more secure.

The three lounged together talking about the past, some about the present, and a little bit about the future. She didn’t know how long they stayed up talking, but eventually she found herself to be the only one awake in a cuddle pile.

She was happy. Lying there in the dark of the fort, eating tiktik chips and gossiping, it brought back the time in her life when she was allowed to do nothing but be herself. It was short, but she was grateful all the same. She mused a little on a concept of a ‘family day’, but wasn’t so sure what would happen if Monomon, Mato, and her mother were in the same space for a prolonged period of time. Perhaps something chaotic, but she could perhaps plan for that.

Before she could keep up her thoughts, Hollow and Ghost snuggled up with their purring and Hornet could not stay awake with such an onslaught.

Hornet drifted off, feeling truly safe for once.

-----

Quirrel staggered up the stairs, half tempted to dig out the bottle of whiskey he kept in the dresser and downing the entire thing in one go. Today...was something else. A bunch of kids were caught letting wild stink beetles loose in a high class noble block and were now starting to multiply at an astonishing rate. A gang of mothers showed up with a petition to ban books with ‘suggestible themes’. Quirrel saw ‘The Famished Famished Firefly’ as first on the list and had to escort them all out of the courtroom after a stern talking to. He had to convince the Capital Board to just raise taxes on luxury goods to pay for a new tram station instead of cutting funding for education. To top it all off, the sandwich he was going to eat for lunch got snatched away by a vengefly. Truly, the worst.

What a day...er….next day. It was very late and no doubt his spouse would be wondering where he was. He hoped they had a good day with their siblings and was looking forward to a snuggle.

However, opening the door to his room showed that the day with their siblings had turned into a sleepover.

He stood for a moment, looking at the scene, unsure as what to do. He didn’t want to bother anyone, and surely Sibling Day was just that. A Day for siblings. He wasn’t about to be the selfish one and barge in on something so important, especially since Ghost rarely got to see Hornet and Hollow in one place. He figured he could go sleep in his office. The couch there was quite comfortable, after all.

He was about to close the door again when he heard a quiet voice in the darkness, sharp and feminine.

“Quirrel.”

“Oh!” He jumped. “Sorry Hornet, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I’m so-”

“Shut up and get in here.”

He paused for a moment, the gears turning in his head at the request. He was...being invited?

“Shut the damn door and get in the cuddle pile before I make you.” She hissed.

He gulped and shut the door behind him and approached the pillow fort. When she stared hissing, it meant she means business and he did not want to test her at this time of night. He could see Hornet softly illuminated by the drifting lumaflies as she held open the blanket door. She gestured for him to climb inside, a finger held to her mouth as an indication to be quiet.

“Are you sure?” He whispered, bending down to crawl in.

“You married my sibling,” She whispered back, sounding a little exasperated. “What makes you think I don’t consider you a sibling too?”

“Because you beat the shit out of me.” He climbed inside with a grunt. Ghost must have sensed that he was there, because he was quickly grabbed with a squeak and held tightly to his spouse’s chest, like a plush toy.

“I beat up Ghost and Hollow. Your point is…?” She watched and offered no assistance whatsoever, her fangs curled up in a grin when Ghost squeezed him harder.

“Do you only beat up the people you like?” He made himself comfortable, quite happy on the inside to finally get a cuddle after such a day.

“You should know me by now Quirrel, that the people I choose to train and spar with are those I consider worthy of my time and respect. And who do I train just as hard as Ghost and Hollow?”

“Oh.” he whispered.

“Yes, ‘oh’. Now you know, dear brother.” She sounded amused through her fatigue. “We tried to invite you, but you were quite adamant about assuming duties for today. And how did that go?”

“I hated every second of it.” Quirrel sighed. He was surrounded by warmth and softness, and wasn’t too sure how long he’d be able to stay awake now that he was comfy.

“There you go, sleep well. Extra training sessions start tomorrow.”

Quirrel snapped out of his mental fuzz. “Wait, what ?!?”

He was only met with snores.

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oddsnendsfanfics · 3 years

Text

Christmas Cookies

Genre: Fan Fiction (Sand Castle) Pairing: N/A Warnings: It’s so fluffy! Pure Absolute Christmas Fluff! Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: I just wrote multiple pages of Sy being an absolute marshamallow, with his nieces and nephews. It’s as sweet as Maple Syrup! Enjoy.

Henry Cavill Master List

“You're sure that it's okay if the kids come over?” The concern for her brother didn't go unnoticed, the blue eyes they shared were locked on his face as if she didn't believe him, when he had given the green light.

He looked ridiculous in the white and red ugly Christmas sweater. The knit garment depicting Santa on a beach. Leave it to Sy. Aimee had lost it laughing a few weeks ago, when her brother had called to tell her that he'd got ugly Christmas sweaters for his nieces and nephews, too.

A smirk curled his lips under the thick beard that had been growing on his face for the last ten or twelve years. Running a hand over his grown out hair, her little brother laughed. “Yes, Aim. I am sure. I wouldn't have told them to come, if I didn't want them here. Go on, we're fine. I am sure Mike will appreciate the night off.”

Early this morning, Sy had been woke to his phone ringing on the night stand beside his head. Stupidly loud, the phone screamed at him, begging him to answer. After the fourth ring, it was clear that the person on the other end was not giving in. Despite the headache and heartache from hell, he reached over and answered.

On the other end, his youngest niece greeted her hung over Uncle. “Uncle Sy, I want to come stay with you tonight. Mommy said that I can't invite myself over, but I want to see you. Please say yes.”

“Morning Wispy,” Sy muttered sitting up, rubbing his hand over his face. “Uncle Sy is a bit hazy this morning, I'm gonna need ya to repeat that. Slowly.” He shook his head and chuckled at his niece.

Repeating her request, Willow waited for her uncle to give her the all clear. She was his favourite person, after all, he would never tell her no.

“Sure can bub. Let me talk to your ma, please. And Wispy, I love ya bug.”

Taking the phone from her over excited daughter, Aimee greeted her brother. Her first round of questions assaulting the youngest Syverson.

“Four kids, are you really sure?” Aimee raised her brow looking at her brother. “I can't believe we let Willow talk you into this. I had no idea she was calling you until she came in with the phone. Apparently she and Harley had planned this yesterday.”

“Whatever. I'm cool with it. I didn't have much to do anyway. Probably spend another night down at The Hole.” Sy shrugged. His favourite dive bar had become his temporary home, since his girlfriend of five years had decided she wanted more than a cranky Army vet to share her life with.

Willow had heard her parents discussing Sy's break up, when she coerced her cousin Harley into the plan for a weekend with their uncle. Uncle Sy was her favourite person in the whole wide world, they even shared a birthday, and Uncle Sy was the most fun! He would often let Willow paint his nails and decorate his beard. Why wouldn't that silly woman want him? Willow had grumbled about her “Aunty Nina” being a bit meany who probably ate boogers for breakfast.

“If you think you are okay with this, fine.” Aimee laughed peeking around her brother into his house to see her two children, plus niece and nephew running around his kitchen like four wild beasts. “But if you need help...”

“I will call in the Army.” Sy's laugh rumbled. “I'm kidding. If we need you, then we will call.” He leaned in giving her a kiss on the cheek, straightening up he called to the kids. “Come say good bye to your ma and aunt.”

Children thundered to the door, rushing Aimee and Sy. Hugs and “I love yous” exchanged as Aimee gave her brother one last out for the weekend. Raising his hand to wave her off, Sy wore the biggest, goofiest smile. She'd behaved like he had never had all four children on his own before. Hell during his Army days he had been responsible for a lot more bodies than four. All had made it home, too. Most on their own accord, but he wasn't going to relive those memories right now. Those were the sort of things he thought about when he was alone in the dark. This weekend was going to be anything but dark.

With only a short span of time to plan, Sy did his best to get a few activities together for the children of various ages. Ben, 12; Annie, 10; Harley 7; and Willow, 6.

Ben had likely only agreed to his sister's impromptu weekend because it was better than staying home with his parents. Besides, he loved hanging out with his Uncle, even if it meant three other children tagging along.

“Okay, listen up.” Sy clapped his hands together, grabbing attention. He bent to gently scratch behind the ears of his beloved shepherd. “You know where your bedrooms are, go take your stuff up. Then meet me back here for our first item on the list.”

Lagging behind her brother and cousins, Willow bounced over to Sy hugging her arms around him as tightly as she could. “Do I have to share a bed with Annie? She kicks me.”

“She kicks you?” Sy stooped to scoop her up in his arms. Her dark curls tied back in pig tails, gently he tugged at the end of one. “Well then good thing I got them pillows you asked for.”

“The really big ones? With the pink sparkle unicorns.” Willow's eyes went wide as she gasped. Sy nodded and laughed. Vibrating with excitement she hugged her uncle's neck tight kissing his cheek. “I want to make a fort in the bed and then Annie has to stay on her side. But it's okay, because we can still share the blanket and my night light.”

“Is that so? Well, you best go tell her that. The others will be back down before you get up there, hurry up.” Sy let her down. “If you need some help, ask Annie. Okay, Wispy?”

“Okay.” She shouted, little legs carrying her to the stairs. Thumping and running through the house, Sy smiled and went to the kitchen to begin planning phase one of their weekend.

With Christmas right around the corner, he had broke down and dug out a few early Christmas Eve gifts. Since it was Syverson tradition to spend Christmas Eve with his momma and daddy, decorating and what not, he was in charge of supplying the kids with gingerbread houses and cookies to decorate. Momma would forgive him, if he told her that the houses were done early this year. If she was adamant about it, he could buy a few more for Christmas.

Pulling out the kits, Sy laughed when Ben trudged into the kitchen. Clearly the kids had gotten the message when they found sweaters laid out on the beds. In a blue and green sweater with penguins at a disco on the front, the twelve year old rolled his eyes before laughing.

“It suits ya.” Sy laughed.

“Sometimes I wonder if you love us or secretly hate us.” Ben laughed along with his uncle. Laughing harder when Harley strode in wearing his green and red sweater, two reindeer on the front throwing snowballs.

“I think you secretly love it.” Sy nudged Harley with his elbow. “Should have gone bigger, huh?”

Harley nodded, the arms of his sweater a little too short. “Do I have to wear it long?”

“Nah,” Shaking his head, Sy pointed to the gingerbread house kits. “Long enough to get a photo for Nana and your momma.”

Giggling, Annie and Willow rushed into the kitchen. Purple and pink ugly sweaters worn with pride. Annie stood straight to show her uncle how well the new shirt fit. Purple decorated with dancing snowmen in a ballerina scene, a nod to Annie's love for dancing. And of course Willow, in her pink sweater with cats in Santa hats with red and green mittens.

“I love it, uncle Sy!” Willow exclaimed jumping up and down. “We look very pretty.”

“We look something.” Her big brother snickered.

“Are those gingerbread houses?” Annie eyed the items on the counter suspiciously. Sy nodded and grinned. “Nana is going to be mad at youuuuuu.” She sang out.

“Well this year, Nana is fine with us decorating early. We can get more for Christmas Eve.”

“We better!” Harley exclaimed wide eyed. “Santa will be upset. He always gets a gingerbread house and he eats it all!”

The tradition of leaving a whole house for Santa had began when Sy was a little boy. Perhaps even before, Aimee and Will had left houses surely before he was born. Over the years Santa had devoured a lot of houses at the Syverson's. He'd even had a few to eat while Sy was over in the desert, serving his country. His momma, without fail, had managed to get him a kit or two. Sy would set them up and let the other soldiers have their fill before sending photos to the kids back home to tell them Santa had came by.

“You know that Santa isn't...” “Going to be upset, because he will still get Nana's homemade cookies.” Ben cut in glaring at Annie. This was her first year on the “Santa isn't real wagon”, but Ben wasn't going to let her ruin that for Harley and Willow.

Nodding and giving Ben a subtle thumbs up, Sy picked up to defuse the tension. “Right, he's still going to get lots of treats. And I don't know that I'd want a boring store made gingerbread, if I could have my momma's homemade shortbread and peanut butter blossoms.” He clicked his teeth together and made a show of rubbing his hand across his stomach.

“Uncle Sy, do you think Santa ever takes cookies home for the elves and Mrs. Claus?” Harley stared up at his uncle, his face scrunched at the thought.

“Sure does, bud. I bet he takes one cookie from every house home to share.” Sy winked at his youngest nephew.

Pulling out the hard as rock cookie house pieces, Sy instructed Ben to get the candies from the counter that he'd set out for the purpose of making these a grand master piece. Even The Grinch would appreciate the work that went into a Syverson House.

“So, what's everyone been up to? I feel like I've hardly seen y'all lately.”

If he asked the kids to talk about themselves, it meant that Sy would have to talk less. He loved hearing what the kids had to say. They chattered and laughed, Annie and Harley bickered a little over who got to put the door on the first house. A squabble ended when Sy reached in, putting the pretzel door on the house himself.

Lost in their good cheer, Christmas songs, and general chaos of four children with limited rules – for the time being – Sy sighed and began to relax. Something he hadn't done since Nina had decided to pack up her things and leave him nearly two weeks ago.

Whatever. Five years wasted. If she had known that she didn't want to be with him, then why had she stayed? His brother had a few ideas about that, stating that it was the perfect opportunity for any gold digging – Sy wouldn't even repeat the word to himself. Living in a house that was paid off. A car that was hers. Never having to pay bills, it all allowed her to work and save while she decided one day she'd had enough and wanted something better.

Better. More money.

Well, whoever took her next, Sy wished them luck. He hated that he was so broken about this. But he'd loved her. Maybe. He had his doubts these last few nights, as he sat thinking over a pint or eight at the bar.

“Uncle Sy,” Willow's soft voice broke his thoughts. Glancing down at his niece, he smiled. “When we finish, can we make cookies?”

“What if we make some cookies tomorrow, Wispy?” Wiping his hands on a tea towel, Sy bent to scoop her into his arms. “We can make some sugar cookies to decorate. I also thought I could make ya some snow crackles that you love so much.” he nudged cheek her with his nose.

“The gooey chocolate ones?” Her eyes were wide. Sy nodded. “Benny!” She turned, calling excitedly to her brother who was less than four feet away. “Uncle Sy is going to make us those crack cookies!”

“Crackle.” Sy gently corrected her with a deep laugh.

Sy's snow crackles were always a welcomed hit. Family, friends, even the post man loved the damn things. Hell if he'd had those over in the desert to hand out, the war could have been over in an hour. Or so a few of his superiors had always teased him.

“Can we make them with the candy cane?” Harley asked wiggling in his seat.

“Absolutely!” Sy agreed with a wide smile. A touch of peppermint in the cookies were the perfect Christmas treat. Even better when enjoyed with a nice cup of rum and homemade egg nog. Although he would save that for the adult parties.

“I love Christmas!” A giggling Annie exclaimed, not going unnoticed that she and Ben were enjoying the left over icing for the houses. A tube each, the two older kids were trying to be stealthy about their activities. Nice try Sy thought, they knew nothing got by their Uncle.

“My favourite holiday is my birthday.” Willow declared.

“That's not a holiday.” Ben laughed at his sister, shaking his head.

“Yes it is! It's a holiday, because it celebrates me and Uncle Sy. Right, Uncle Sy? It's a holiday?” Willow pouted at her uncle, hoping for some back up. If Uncle Sy said it was, then it was true.

“I think birthdays are kind of like holidays. We just don't get time off work or school.”

“See!” Willow stuck her tongue out at her brother Ignoring his sister, Ben had already moved on to something else.

“Okay you two, enough.” Sy let Willow down. “Let's get this mess cleaned and we can get some plans for dinner going.”

“Can we have ice cream?” Doing her best puppy dog eyes, Annie looked at her uncle.

“After we eat dinner.” Sy smiled kissing the top of her head.

“Candy cane ice cream?” Harley was hopeful. Sy had never met a kid, or anybody, who loved candy canes as much as his nephew.

“I have some candy cane. I also have chocolate and pecan. Something for everyone.”

“And grape nut for you?” Wrinkling her nose, Willow shivered in disgust. Ice cream was one of the only things she didn't agree with her Uncle on.

“Yes, grape nut for me.”

“You're such an old man.” Ben added gently tossing a candy piece at his uncle's head. Nailing Sy in the side of the cheek, Ben laughed and threw up his hands in victory.

“Oh is that how you want this?” Sy picked up a few candies, launching them back at his nephew. Nailing Ben with four our of five, Sy straightened himself up. “Still got it.”

Gingerbread construction cleaned, photos taken, Sy announced that the children were free of their ugly sweaters. Rushing upstairs to change, shouts and laughter filled the house. Sy, comfortable in his sweater, worked out the decision for dinner. Ordering pizza seemed like the clear winner and nobody would complain.

Four pizzas later, enough variety that everybody had something they liked, Sy announced it was time to settle for a bit and watch some movies. Who could resist? Pizza, as promised ice cream, and various snacks that he always had on hand for the kids. It was the perfect way to spend an evening getting over a break up.

Sprawled out around the den, the kids got comfortable. Blankets and cushions all over. Sy resting on the leather sectional, Willow curled up on his lap – of course. A bowl of candy between them and Harley, who laid stretched out. Annie and Ben occupied a bean bag each, blankets pulled up around them while the decided upon “Miracle on 34th Street” played on the screen.

Dozing on and off, Sy didn't know when it had happened, but at some point the movie had come to an end the dvd menu replaying over and over. A soft whine of his beloved shepherd is what roused him this morning. Scratching his nose and sitting up, Sy scrambled to grab Willow before she slid off of his knee. Around him the kids were asleep, the house quiet and his watch informing him it was nearly dawn.

Gently sliding Willow into his spot on the couch, Sy stood and raised his arms, joints popping and his body waking. Tiptoeing out of the den and to the kitchen, Sy opened the back door letting the dog out. Rubbing his eyes, he watched the dog zoom around, before debating coffee or going back to bed. The kids would sleep another hour or two at least, which would be nice to sleep as well. Coffee won, brewing a fresh pot Sy looked around the kitchen.

His house still, the presence of the kids not going unnoticed, it felt nice to have someone else in the house. The bodies moving and bringing merriment. A kick to the gut, really. Nina having told him that part of her leaving was because she wanted children and he didn't. He loved his nieces and nephews, but full time parenting wasn't a project he was cut out for. Sy sniffled, fuck it. Shaking his head, he grumbled under his breath. She and her notions were gone now.

Opening the back door, he let the dog in. Giving a morning scratch and cooing to his faithful friend. Coffee filled the house with a delicious aroma, Sy poured his first cup and sat at the table watching the backyard. Once this coffee was gone he would get to work on his crackle cookies, they would need to freeze before baking. Tiny, nearly silent foot steps caught his attention. Willow hummed softly as she walked, her momma always told her that it wasn't polite to sneak up on people. Especially Uncle Sy. No matter how much he loved her, sneaking up could scare him and Willow didn't want that.

Sy hated the thoughts of his family feeling like they may not be safe in his presence. But he appreciated her attempt to let him know she was awake and moving around.

“Morning Wispy.” Sy's voice was steady and quiet. Willow giggled lightly. She loved that he knew it was her, without having to look. “Come here.” Sy held out an arm. Willow rushed her last few steps. “Have a good sleep?”

“Uh huh,” she rubbed her eyes and nodded. “Morning, Uncle Sy. Did you sleep good?”

“I did,” he nodded taking a sip of his coffee and pushing out his chair. “Have a seat, Miss Henning.”

Climbing into the kitchen chair, Willow sat quietly.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yes, please.” Willow yawned and nodded. “But no coffee, it's yuck and daddy says I'm too little.”

“Your daddy has the right idea,” Sy smiled fondly, pulling out the cocoa mix and Willow's favourite mug. A big mug with a photo of her and Sy's old dog Aika.

“Uncle Sy, are you happy that I came over and brought my brother, Harley, and Anna?”

“Of course, Wispy.”

“Good, because I think you were sad but I didn't want you to be sad. I told my momma that we would make you happy if we came over. I think I was right.” she beamed through tired eyes.

“Wspy, bug, nothing could ever make me happier than you kids.” Scooping the cocoa into the mug, pouring cold milk until the was half full to save it from getting too hot.

“Not even if you had your own kids? Do you think you'll get married and have kids? Momma said...”

“Wispy,” Sy held up a hand to stop the unintentional prying. It was too early. “I will always love you. You're my best gal, yeah? All you need to know, bug, is that I will love you forever.”

“Do you love me more than Christmas cookies?”

“Well,” pausing for effect, Sy took a beat to pretend he was thinking, “I do love Christmas cookies. But yeah, I suppose I love you more than Christmas cookies, even.”

“Good, because I love you more than Christmas cookies, birthday cake, anddd Nana's biscuits.” the little girl wiggled in her seat, giggling.

“More than Nana's biscuits? Oh boy, that is some loving.” Stirring the hot cocoa, Sy lifted the mug and placed it on the table in front of his niece. A can of whipped cream in hand, he shook it before adding more than required to the top of her mug. Sitting down, he glanced at his coffee and shrugged, the hiss of the can when he added a dollop to his coffee. “Cheers,”

“Cheers!” Willow slid her mug a few centimeters to clink it against Sy's.

#captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson #henry cavill #captain syverson imagine #captain syverson fluff #christmas fic #captain syverson sand castle #henry cavill fluff

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crowleyellestair · 4 years

Note

Love your work! Would you mind doing the wolves (maybe sans geralt bc you’ve already done him) taking care of a reader with a migraine?

AN/// Sorry for the delay. Work and life have been crushing, but here it is!!! I really hope you like it :) Again, very sorry for the wait. I hope you’re not undergoing a migraine while reading. Much love <3

//L//

There wasn’t much that bugged Y/n. She was strong willed and had a high tolerance for anything, thus being able to endure the force that is Lambert. She often laughed when people claimed Jaskier to be the most outspoken and dramatic, knowing the youngest witcher held that crown. Fights happened between the two and often, but they both never had any true venom behind their words. While Y/n was like most, and gave Lambert a firm hand, the grip she had was gentle, knowing that behind that angry exterior was a man who simply sought happiness and the simpler things in life. She didn’t pull any punches when joking or handling the man, but endearments and affection were also paid to him in full, if not more so.

Migraines were commonplace for Y/n, though she had medication to subdue them quickly and with ease. In Oxenfurt, she had befriended a medical student, the two of them experimenting with things to help Y/n’s headaches. It seemed dangerous, and some things they had tried could be considered that, but in the end, they found the perfect mix. Though, her medical friend stayed near Novigrad, and Y/n was currently galivanting with Lambert in the south.

It started with the pressure behind her nose, building and spreading to her cheeks and behind her eyes. She swore to whatever force it was that felt like it was trying to push the eyes out of her sockets. The heels of her hands had pressed against them, but even her eyebrows were sensitive, the hairs irritating as they moved, follicles tiny pinpricks. It spread to her temples and her skin felt tight by her ears. Ringing was heard at every noise around her. Her body felt sore as she sat up in the bedroll pile, they often created by pushing the two traveler’s beds together with the effect of a larger one to snuggle. Lambert wouldn’t admit it or bring it up, but if their cuddling was ever mentioned or joked about, the man would brag about his spooning and comfort skills.

Her hips popped as she brought her knees to her chest, and the ache rippled throughout the rest of her body. Her eyes were squinting as they gazed over the view. It was hot the previous night, so the two found a cave somewhat higher in the mountain rage they were crossing, and the view was gorgeous. She could see a crystal-clear stream running through sparse trees that grew throughout the valley below. Y/n noticed Lambert was gone, and she sighed her thanks to anyone listening to her thoughts, slowly leaning over to blindly sift through her bags, looking for water. A loud noise just outside of the cave’s mouth made her cringe and ball herself up for a moment. Ringing followed, as well as drums pounding behind her eyes and through her temples. A softer sound was heard a second later, followed by a familiar, proud, booming voice.

“Even in the steepest fucking mountain side we could have camped in, we have warm breakfast! Bon appe… you know.” Lambert’s rare forgetfulness would have been funny if his voice didn’t bounce off the walls, dropping on her eardrums like raining arrows. There was a silence that followed his statement, his hands on his hips, waiting for the retort. He squinted when he didn’t receive it, knowing full well she was awake, but went to pull the small doe into the cave. The behavior of his beloved companion set alarms off, and he was immediately on edge, though he didn’t outwardly show it. This was new territory, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want whatever conflict he was about to face. Out of desperation, he resorted to a Vesemir impression to try and lighten the tone.

“The early bird cannot fetch the worm if it has no desire to fly. While we cannot fly, we can find other means to get the worm that other birds can’t.” At some point, a hand found his hip and a finger started to wag. His brows furrowed and he leaned over her form. His voice was normal, the edge somewhat showing. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I wish it would stop-.”

“Lambert!” She shrunk away from her own voice that echoed back to her in full force. The harshness grating on her, not wanting him to feel the anger as well. Because she was angry. Y/n didn’t know why she had to suffer through these spells of headaches, wishing life would let up a bit on its berating habits. Lambert had flinched away from her, standing once more. His cat eyes were wide, and he took a step back. The true growl that came to her while she yelled his name was something he never wished to hear from her, having heard it from so many that hurt him before.

Tears started to drop, and Y/n scrunched her eyes close as tightly as possible, trying to block out the light, but also trying to turn to the man.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I can’t… It…” Her voice was a whisper, and despite his pounding heart, he dropped to a knee in front of her. He felt like a helpless child, wanting to get back into his mother’s good graces again, but it was so much more than that. He loved Y/n with all his being, and this was something he couldn’t handle. Her anger towards him is one thing, but true distain even slightly pointed in his direction was another. Lambert would do anything to right this, despite the unfamiliar fear that gripped him. His mind shrunk into itself, ready to lash out in defense despite months of being with her and being open.

“’It’ what? What’s happening?” He matched her whisper, outstretching a hand. It never landed against her skin, despite wanting to wipe the tears away and going to what their lives were before this.

“Migraine. It’s too loud. Bright. I need a minute.” The instant relief that flooded through him almost got out of hand. He didn’t know what he expected her to say, but knowing it wasn’t life changing was a relief. He nodded, now determined and grateful for the luck that has fallen upon him. Lambert stood quickly, marching out of the cave and climbing faster than when he entered. Y/n swore to herself, angry and in pain. She didn’t mean to yell or have her anger that was pointed at her body to be pointed towards her witcher, it simply happened. More tears fell as she curled back up, rubbing her temples in vain.

Lambert landed at the mouth of the cave once more, quietly walking to his lover. He placed the daisy like flowers in her lap, Y/n having shifted into a sitting position minutes ago. Her eye peeped open in question and felt even worse about yelling.

“Lambert-.”

“Shh, I have this.” His soft, coaxing tone cut off her apologies as he found a bowl in their bags to grind the plant’s leaves. After it was successfully made into a past, he opened their food pack for the bread they had, spreading it, and smiling to the loaf. He insisted they get the onion clove loaf, as he had taste despite being a witcher. It was the same price as a plane loaf, what did she expect? He knew the deliciousness of the bread wouldn’t even out the bitterness of the plant, but it would help. Lambert plopped himself in front of her, staring intently as he held out the loaf. Y/n took it, eating it quickly and trying to steel herself from expressing the gross taste. Cat eyes bore into her frame, waiting and hoping. His hands perched on his knees, teeth worrying slightly into his bottom lip. It seemed at this point, Lambert would eradicate her migraine simply through pure will, his stare taking even Y/n aback. She stared back, never backing down from his gaze until Lambert smiled. Her brow rose in question, and his voice was full once more. “See, I told you I had it.”

Y/n took inventory of her body after not flinching away from the tone. The pain had receded, and only aches were left. It wasn’t fully gone, but the plant along with Lambert’s distracting visage had worked wonders. She smiled to him, but it dropped quickly.

“Lamb, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, smirking.

“There’s no need to be.” Despite the storm passing, he was truly scared earlier. Y/n meant too much to him to have anything go wrong. Lambert knew, however, that even if she had meant to yell at him, he would endure it. He would do anything to make it better, despite what happened to him. Y/n was worth everything and more than he had to give. He made it a habit to pick Feverfew, the plant he used, as much as possible. He always carried the paste in a vile next to his potions in the ‘chest of important things’ as he liked to call it from then on.

//E//

“Oh, sweet Melitele.” Y/n groaned as she rolled over. She found herself alone under the covers, completely pulling the sheets over her head. The only light in the room came from the candles at the desk in the corner. Eskel had the habit of waking up after a couple of hours, the time used to check the camp perimeter or inn’s hiding spots. In Kaer Morhen, the habit didn’t change, though he simply reads. His attention was brought to the bed at the sound of a pain groan and exclamation.

“Y/n?” His voice came out as a whisper, only having an idea of what was happening. She had only been sleeping lightly for as long as he left the bed, so it could have easily been frustration due to exhaustion. His suspicions where confirmed however when the only response was a breathless grunt and the furs tightening around her form. He closed the book, walking over the bowl of water they kept near the window as Y/n often woke up thirsty in the night despite his constant reminders to stay hydrated. His feet lazily shuffled to grab a small cloth, folding it and submerging it into the cold water. Eskel blew out the candles, and made his way back to the bed. The brunette sat, Y/n slowly popping her head out from under the covers and into his lap. The towel was placed on her forehead, the cold water taking her mind to the shocking feel. His large fingers gently rubbed against her temples, the pressure trying to ease the ache.

Eskel’s lover quickly lost herself, only being tied down to the earth by the legs her head rested on and the fingers at her temples. The darkness and silence, along with the cold towel brought her mind away from the pain. After a handful of moments, Eskel started to whisper, reciting Y/n’s favorite novel. Her mind had another thing to focus on, and after a long while, the pain was gone.

“Thank you. Sorry I interrupted reading time.” Eskel gave a soft smile, leaning down and placing a kiss on the damp skin after lifting the towel.

“I love you,” he spoke softly. He said it as though it was the obvious reason why he did anything, especially helping out with her migraine. She smiled back softly, knowing he could see it.

“Not as much as I love you, cutie.” He scoffed quietly at the name, rolling his eyes. It had taken years for him to finally believe her when she called him that. It used to bring pain and make his chest hurt, but now it made him feel light. It made him proud somehow. The witcher was elated to have her as his other half, all the trust he had to give lying within her frame. They had gone through a lot together, their bond becoming unbreakable. Eskel could help her migraines in his sleep and her large heart could warm him from miles away.

He tossed the towel to the dirty pile of clothes in the corner of the room as she slowly started to shift. Eskel laid back as she turned to wrap herself around him. Her arms wound under his arms, hands resting under his shoulder blades. Her legs intertwined with his and her cheek nuzzled against his own. Light kisses dusted over his entire face, starting at the bottom of his scar at his jaw. No inch of his skin was left un-kissed in thanks for helping. His hands wrapped around her lower back, squeezing her to himself. Neither fell asleep right away, simply resorting to whispering sweet nothings to the other.

//V//

Vesemir didn’t have many opportunities to be what he always wanted. Despite his lectures to the boys, telling them to never have a family or hope to be a parent, the old witcher always wanted to be a father. He had regrets, and one major one was not doting on his pups like he had wanted to when they were younger. But things were different now, and he could do what he liked, though they were too old to want what he wanted to give. Then Y/n came along. Geralt had a habit of bringing friends along to the keep, and no one ever refused the company, secretly wanting friendly faces, even if they belonged to a sorceress. Y/n wasn’t such entity, being merely a human, which allowed him to dote.

It was the small things that he allowed himself to do. He tried to keep his caring under lock and key, giving her just as many chores and rules as the other. The old witcher showed through giving her an extra sticky bun or lighting the only scented candle they had in the hot spring before she had her time alone in the pool. An extra fur blanket was left on her bed and the hearth in her room was always lit as she retired for the light, Vesemir lighting it as he passed to his own room.

They weren’t grandiose actions, but the hugs she graced him in thanks or the bright smiles he received made him aware how appreciated it was. And that made his old heart swell, knowing he is that figure he always wanted to be. Of course, he does the same for his sons, just in altered ways he knows they’ll appreciate more and there’s little outward thanks in return.

His parental need went into overdrive when one morning she padded down to the main hall, completely a mess. Usually, she would be completely ready for the day, up when the wolves woke, a bright smile gracing everyone. This morning, however, she had the extra fur wrapped tightly around herself. It was late in the morning, and he had waited in the hall for her, sending the boys out training already. The bags under her eyes made her whole visage look sunken and she squinted anytime she stepped out of the shadows. Vesemir met her in the shadows, his hand barely brushing her back.

“What’s wrong?” She blinked up at him, eyes droopy from exhaustion.

“Um,” her voice cracked loudly, and she flinched. “Headache.” The witcher acknowledged with a hum, turning her and leading her to the kitchen. There was only one window, and he sat her down at the end of the workspace where the light didn’t really touch. Water appeared in front of her and his voice softly drifted to her.

“You need to stay hydrated.” Y/n nodded, grabbing the cup and drinking half of its contents. There was quiet shuffling coming from the other end of the kitchen, Vesemir’s eyes frequently watching the woman. Her figure was slumped over, taking deep breaths and hands rubbing her eyes and temples. Sympathy ran through his veins, his need to help and care taking over. While he wouldn’t usually make a different meal than the food he had already prepared, he assumed this was an okay time to bend the rules. And no one was around to see it anyways.

Milk was pulled, along with oats, cinnamon, brown sugar and almonds. A pot with the milk started to boil as he tried to crush the almonds into smaller pieces as quietly as possible. The oats went into the pot, as well as the almonds. Soon, the cinnamon and sugar were dumped into a bowl with the oats and stirred, gently placed in front of Y/n’s sagging figure. He poured more water into the now empty cup, his spare hand gently placing itself on her head, letting it lightly run down her hair. He knew it was something really only done to comfort or praise a small child, but he couldn’t help himself. His ears picked up a small thank you, and he left her to watch over training. Once that was over, he made sure to check on her in her room, bringing in a small lavender plant he re potted, knowing the scent helped such things. More water was also brought, and he was relieved and content to see her in a deep sleep, a small smile on her face.

#witcher x reader #witcher imagine #witcher lambert #lambert x reader #witcher lambert x reader #lambert imagine #eskel x reader #eskel imagine #papa vesemir #geralt imagine

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i-am-the-balancing-point · 2 years

Note

4,13,19,26 for Gigi?

Amanda my beloved! Thank you so much for asking these 💕

4. What type of weapons do they prefer?

previously answered here

Her trusty rusty bat aka Ol’ Reliable™.

This bitch grew up with SpongeBob like all of us.

13. From the GFH/FGH which one they get along with the most?

previously answered here

I could never pick just one 🙈 so instead I’ll describe Gigi’s relationship with each a bit more in detail and hope that’s okay with you too. ♡

Boomer: Her good boy!! She is always so grateful to see him whenever she visits the Ryes and he senses that she is usually in need of some good old-fashioned canine comforting. Gigi’s heart breaks every time for his because despite having lost his Rea Rea, the were best friends for sure, and having to go through some brutal peggies shit too, he is still such a friendly loveable loyal companion. So they will cuddle and play and frolick around. Boomer thinks it’s good for his human to get some exercise with him and he‘ll gladly fetch the tennis ball for her any time because throwing it seems to really excite her.

After baby Carmina arrives and Joey is finally free he moves in with her though. Just like Gigi she is in need of a loyal caring partner and he takes great pride in caring for her.

Nick: She’d not only die for him but give him a kidney. He made her godmother to his baby after all! The first time she firmly declines his offer for a flight he is a bit hurt though but understands soon enough that it’s not because she doubts his abilities as a pilot but because she has yet to process the helicopter crash. Gigi also does have a little crush on Kim and him but doesn’t make a move in fear of putting them off. (They do share a bed though from time to time. Whatever that might mean.)

Grace: Gigi is deeply in awe of her and has nothing but respect for the amazing Grace. She can sometimes be a little reserved about Gigi‘s loud side but that’s just her personality. She is all the more down to listen to the softer notes of her mix though and has her back from the first moment they talk. Grace knows gigi is a good person a really respects how much she does for the county.

Cheeseburger: Big. Wonderful. Cuddlebug. Most adventures they go on consist of hiking and napping. Cheeseburger loves how the deputy can scratch all of her itches that develop under that enormous coat soooo well and she will often bring dried fish as a treat for her. The understand each other without words and spending time with Cheeseburger really relaxes the deputy. Who could resist snuggling up against that big plushie after all?

Hurk: Shenanigans galore ensured! They bond over meming and scheming and their shared love for cartoons and tiddies. Gigi loves listening to his stories of his travels but doubts the accuracy of the them at least 70% of the time. He basically treats her like a little sister, showed her how to light farts on fire. They once got drunk and were REALLY committed to giving each other tongue piercings (but luckily did not follow through).

Jess: They bond over cartoons and tiddies too but soon get much closer than that. Jess finds real comfort in spending time with Gigi, something she had secretly been missing for a long time. Gigi always wishes she could “fix” everything that shattered the huntress so many times that she has grown a shell of steel by now so she is happiest when she can just hold her to her chest when she has fallen asleep.

Peaches: magical 👏🏽 hands 👏🏽 the murderous secret cuddle bug can always rely on Gigi finding the right spot to pet on her head and under her chin. She just naturally is a cat person and they get along like littermates. Sometimes Peaches even licks her for a bit and will run off to rip some peggies’ throat out before Gigi has even spotted them. She’s the only FFH allowed in her bed.

Sharky: Another best buddy power couple! Both love to just hang out, sip some beer and share snacks. Sometimes they will play guitar together and Sharky is absolutely enchanted by her singing. He calls her Stinky or Shorty. They also smash a lot. He is in awe of how he can get this bundle of nerves and tension to unwind and let go of herself and he’d be the only person she’d ever potentially allow to knock her up. (Not gonna happen though.)

Adelaide: A bit of her mum and a bit of her bad influence-friend. They often enable each other but generally in positive ways. Addie is one of the only people who at least suspects how much Gigi is sleeping around. She is none to judge though and even helps her through a pregnancy scare once. Our queen has been there, done that and some things you just cannot be alone with. They’ll always be there for each other.

@adelaidedrubman also asked to know more about the relationship between my dep and the Ryes so I shall expand on that in a future post 💕

19. How do they feel about Faith?

Definitely the most positive out of the Seeds. Gigi, especially initially, fails to realise that Faith is just as bad as the others, just different. She knew before arriving that Joseph got her to join the family when she was 17 and won’t stop viewing her as the vulnerable teenage addict for a while, completely disregarding all of her actions which are literally just as bad as her brothers’. So congrats to my deputy for being a dum dum and literally falling for their narrative of innocence and all that blah. (Wanna implement a little disclaimer here that, yes, the abuse she faced was bad and Faith/Rachel is not a bad person for it, also not for it making her especially deceptible for joining the cult of a much older man who manipulated her into it. She is still very much responsible for her actions though and drugs and trauma are not an excuse for harmful bahaviour and deeds. Of course y’all know that bc ur smart but it felt important to make this clear again.)

The first times my deputy experiences very bad bliss trips, she also does not make the connection to Faith being responsible for it which she very much is though. The siren has a habit of making people go through the worst shit in their minds while only being present for the aftermath, to “rescue” them from their trip and pull them out of the bliss. She only ever appears in positive visions.

Has stolen Gigi’s shoes on numerous occasions. They always turn up again somewhere after a while though. But it’s enough to make Gigi question her sanity every time it happens.

26. What do they feel about Joseph?

this is a lot like 24, previously answered here, so I’m taking this as an opportunity to add more

If you were to ask Gigi she’d tell you that he has never outright hurt her which is… kinda true? He has a great way of concealing his violence by having it carried out through his brothers, sister and followers. Joseph is also never the first one to lash out at her, always finding “reasons” to do so, always staying calm during it and reassuring her that it is something he does not want to but has to do. She basically only has herself to blame anyways.

Gigi unfortunately eats that shit up but is still peripherally aware that he is definitely not doing the right thing. She couldn’t kill him, at least not of her own accord. If he basically pounced her and tried to choke her to death then probably yes but she would never walk up to a “peaceful civillian” and stab them right in the eye. She tries to reason with him though whenever possible but stinky little preacher man would of course never accept that.

#I’m sorry it took me seven million years to get back to you #scungilliwoman #far cry 5 #answered asks #my dep

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ariparri · 3 years

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✨Shine Ship Headcanons✨

Alrighty here’s some content with fandoms&flowers’s Brook Powers and Carson Ivey!

There was so much to write about these two, I wasn’t expecting them to be this cute (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

These two are very big on PDA and physical affection. Carson’s not afraid to announce it to all of Hogwarts. In fact he would definitely interrupt a quidditch match and announce it there by fighting for the megaphone with Murphy (he would do this with all of his ships honestly). He may even gift Brook a large bouquet, balloons and a plushie he clearly didn’t bug Veruca to make it. Veruca eventually got fed up and taught him how to make one.

Carson likes to cup her face and sometimes squish it before cooing at her for being cute. He would let Brook style his hair and put bows in it.

Due to Brook’s constant nightmares, she hates sleeping and barely eats. Carson gets worried over her, and starts stressing himself out trying to get her to take care of herself.

To try to help her sleep, Carson would tell her stories of his childhood and maybe some funny, embarrassing moments between him and Veruca. He would also try to feed her when she’s not eating herself. Food is important and he’d hate to see her starve herself.

Both of them love to cook together, especially baking. They’ll start out prepping everything perfectly normally until someone smears food on the other’s face. It eventually turns into a mini food fight causing the each other to laugh. They also share recipes they love, Carson especially shares his mother’s lemon poppy seed blueberry muffin recipe.

Shiny things aren’t the only thing these two both love. Both Brook and Carson love to go swimming so water dates are a common thing between these two.

Carson would prefer to go swimming at a pool or water park since there’s no animals. However he will take Brook to the beach or a lake if she wanted to swim near the fishes. He’ll put up with them swarming him.

Despite Brook disliking her scales, Carson loves them. He loves the way they shine under the light and especially when in water.

He actually loves them so much, he switched from using blue and purple glitter for gold. He would even say that they may be shiny, but they can’t really compare to the way Brook shines.

If they’re out on a normal date and it starts to rain, Carson will pull her close and they’ll start happily dancing and having fun. Brook will even start singing Love Like You

Since he knows just how much trouble Ismelda can bring to Brook, he would diffuse the situation by distracting Ismelda or quickly bring Brook somewhere else. He wouldn’t want to see Brook get hurt or upset by her so he would always step between them and defend her.

Brook’s mother being a famous singer was a bit of a surprise to Carson. When he found out who it was, he at first was excited since he was a big fan. But after seeing Brook look bothered about him talking about her mother with such high regard, he’ll apologize for making her uncomfortable. He stopped talking about her or listening to her songs.

After finding out about what kind of woman she is, Carson was furious. He was so disgusted and ashamed of himself for even being a fan of her. He’d rant about how someone could be so awful to their own child. He burned whatever merchandise he had of her.

The Ivey’s are quite an oddball family, but always welcoming. Hudson can be a party animal and loves the usual dad jokes and Raylene is the same. When they first meet Brook, Raylene immediately pulled her in for a hug and practically cooed at her being cute. Hudson even joked about Carson taking after him a little too much as they were easily attracted to the extraordinary ones. Their kindness may have been a bit too much as Brook started happy crying.

Carson’s mother would absolutely consider Brook to be her daughter. Brook ends up getting her own little mug, designed to fit her style, as a way of being accepted into the Ivey family. They love hot chocolate and everyone has their own little mug.

When Brook finally cuts off her own mother, Raylene instantly brings her into a comforting hug, happy she was able to stand up to that wicked witch.

He may have a love hate relationship with creatures, but since Brook loves her pets, he will let them pounce on him if only they don’t try to destroy his clothes.

Brook in her animagus form is the only animal Carson would be able to be around with until the other creatures are fine with him. He can’t help but find her being a fluffy otter adorable.

Post Hogwarts, Brook owns a thestral ranch, and while Carson is very cautious around them, he won’t mind being around since Brook has them perfectly tamed. The ministry often assigns her to house other dangerous creatures until a home can be found for them. With small creatures, Carson will put up with. However with the bigger creatures, Carson would have to be sent to stay at a family or friend’s place till everything is completely settled.

He mostly stays with Veruca since they’ve been friends the longest. Though while he's there, he's going to be extremely bored and whine nonstop to Veruca about 'missing his babe' which would make Veruca roll her eyes and tell him to write her letters since he missed her so much. He does just that. Both Brook and Carson send each other increasingly sappy love letters.

At some point in their life, Carson catches Brook doing something absolutely reckless and when he confronts her about it she simply responds with “I try not to think it interferes with my being nuts.”

Carson was instantly hooked onto her and blurted out for her to marry him then and there. He would love to have someone match his crazy, and Brook perfectly suits him. Of course, he would still plan for a big proposal. Just to make it extra special for Brook, Carson ‘tried’ to get all of Brook’s beloved pets and creatures to be part of the proposal.

Everything was fine for most of it. Until the puffskeins got restless and jumped on him halfway through proposing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay so that’s the first set of polls complete! I now have to work on Isa’s introduction post, along with Shooting Stars and Hot Coffee. It’s the 23rd right now, but I should start planning the May birthday arts for Carson, Chester and Badeea.

🚫No Reposting🚫

#ariparri #shine ship #carson x brook #carson ivey #brook powers #hogwarts mystery #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #mc x mc #au ship

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vivifrage · 3 years

Text

Archivist!PK AU Headcanons

Okay so I’ve written a few things in the Archivist!PK AU, either here or in Elegies, Memories. And it sometimes lives rent-free in my brain, so I’m going to make that y’all’s problem too.

Despite being head of the Archives, PK is kind of the campus cryptid. You might catch him skulking around the halls, or deep in one of the libraries. Allegedly he’s in his office sometimes, but what few things he keeps in there are... odd. In all likelihood, though, if he doesn’t want you to see him, you won’t.

Yes he was cleaning the chalkboard. No he doesn’t see this as unusual. It was dirty, he was there with a free hand. What other bugs see as “below his station” is a rather ridiculous set of standards.

Ghost, Hornet, and Hollow all drop by from time to time. Hornet intimidates everyone, both by reputation as the ruler of Deepnest and by being Hornet. Hollow used to intimidate everyone, too. Ghost got cooed over a lot. Over time, though, people learned what happened at the end of the infection and now Ghost intimidates some people, and Hollow gets cooed at.

Hornet visits if she needs something, be it from a scholar or her sire. Though most of Hallownest is now governed by various councils, she still checks in to make sure things are going all right, and her sire freely shares advice with her about rulership.

Ghost visits their friends. Quirrel’s one, of course, but they’ve come to befriend a few of the students and new faculty. They’re fantastic at listening to whatever someone’s working on, and more than one person has had a problem-solving realization while talking to them about something.

Hollow, of course, goes to visit their dad. Both were shy around each other at first, but now if you find Hollow on campus, you’re bound to see PK with them, often stroking their head as he works.

Once people started to realize Hollow was a big, traumatized sweetheart who’d been sacrificed to save Hallownest, they’d motivate each other to do things “for Hollow.” Especially because the big Vessel seemed to like being told about the wonderful things folks were up to. The motto “for Ghost” also caught on soon enough. For a certain contingent, “for Hornet” also works.

Hollow also apprentices under Midwife, and has been getting involved in fostering young hatchlings, particularly ones that need a little extra help to survive and thrive. They bring the worst off ones to their dad, since he has Soul healing.

After one of the hatchlings died despite his interventions, PK was a wreck for weeks. Hollow began bringing the healthier ones to show him after that, so he could see the ones that are doing well. He’ll tuck them under his chin and rumble absentmindedly, to various degrees of success at actually soothing them.

Once he and the White Lady reunite, he’s in her gardens almost every week. He shied out of her territory for a time, but she said he was welcome any time. (He still mostly just goes right to her, and certainly doesn’t try to be any sort of authority in the Queen’s Gardens.)

Don’t ask him to try to do anything the day of his trip to the gardens, and possibly a bit before. He’ll be too busy thinking about his beloved Root. He straight up won’t hear you, he’s drunk too much I Love My Wife juice.

He rarely teaches classes himself. He’ll help provide material or guest lecture sometimes (if the teacher can find him and drag him in), but he doesn’t teach. When he does, it’s because he’s found a small contingent of students he likes and are interested in the same thing, so he’ll teach some tiny upper-level class just for them.

He’s a pretty good, patient teacher, though he’s still figuring out how to be casual, so at times it takes a bit of decoding noble mannerisms to get at what he’s saying. He does sometimes need his students to help him figure out what’s an appropriate amount of work and what can fit in a single lecture, too. But he’s good about taking that feedback.

The Radiance is still around, though on the opposite side of the kingdom! She had A Time when she learned the bitchass wyrm thief had survived, too; she thought she was the only one. He doesn’t know about her and she’d rather keep it that way because she swears she’s going to punch his kingslight out if she meets him.

She has a mini heart attack whenever she sees one of the scholars around, though thankfully they don’t seem to recognize her, between her multiple layers and mortal form.

Is she a little smug she’s the one teaching Ghost how to handle godhood? Why yes, yes she is. She’s still mad at them but kind of proud of her little apprentice. She’s quietly ignoring the painful guilt at how determined they are not to misuse the dream realm.

#hollow knight #jaxx writes #long post

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archived-gtronpa-account · 4 years

Note

So what if for a motive instead of kokichi being a giant he’s shrunk and stuck with shuichi :0! ( like continuing off of the other motive writing you did -)

hiii I'm glad for this req I was hoping someone would catch my drift and ask for a sequel since I had an idea for it in mind 💃 altho I took a wittle little bit of liberty with your req I hope you don't mind

(again terribly sorry for the delay friend I hardly had any time for this hope you'll enjoy either way)

___

Word count: 1800

Summary: The game master has a new dirty trick up their sleeve to get rid of a certain little liar; but Kokichi isn't going down so easily, even with the threat of now death waiting for him at every corner.

___

It seemed the mastermind wasn’t too pleased when the motive hadn’t gotten him murdering and executed, so their next plan was to get him directly murdered.

Kokichi stands in Monokuma’s shadow, expression blank in face of the bear’s cruel cackles. It's a wonder how the mastermind can see him as a threat when he hasn't been able to stop any of the past murders, but he's still flattered that he's managed to mess with their plans enough that they'd stoop to such a low motive.

When the monochromatic bear leaves, Kokichi is left silently staring at the rest of his classmates from his spot on the cafeteria table, standing at the miserable height of a toy. Any other day, jokes and taunts and lies would be flowing out of his mouth, but his mind doesn’t come up with anything when he’s surrounded by classmates who he knows are already thinking of killing him and hiding his body to avoid a class trial; the same classmates whom he could hold in the palm of his hand only yesterday.

Silent and unmoving as he is, they must think him a scared little child; Kokichi Ouma, supreme leader of evil, reduced to some cute joke, some fanservice for an audience to coo at before he inevitably dies. The thought of the mastermind looking down on him and laughing to themselves at the moment is near sickening.

Kiibo is first to speak up, “So… What should we do about this?”

“I say,” Maki’s reply is instantaneous, like she’d been waiting to say those next words for too long, “We end this killing game right here and now.”

And when she takes a swift step forward, red eyes piercing through his tiny form with a murderous intent he’s seen too many times already, Kokichi can’t do anything but resign himself to the fact that he won’t live to stop the killing game.

Then something darts in front of him and blocks his view, and he thinks he somehow must’ve dreamed the words, “Maki, don’t hurt him.”

It takes his paranoid brain longer than he’d like to admit to realize that the hand in front of him isn’t coming to grab him and squeeze his guts out, rather, it’s shielding him. A gesture he wouldn’t expect coming from anyone in this room, except-

“You can't fall for the mastermind's trick so easily.” Shuichi stands towering in front of him in a protective stance, like some knight in shining armor; and to think this is the same boy who was cowering in his presence only days ago.

"Yeah! Harumaki, you promised, remember?" Kaito, the actual knight in shining armor of the academy, doesn't come to protect him; instead, he steps up to Maki and places a hand on her shoulder. Of course, when killer girl is trying to kill poor lil' Kokichi, it's still her who needs help and support and not the doll-sized villainous boy about to be murdered. "This has gotta be a trap or somethin'."

"Right," Shuichi joins in. He briefly glances over his shoulder at Kokichi, and the now tiny boy meets his gaze with the same blank expression. "Think about it, doesn't this new motive seem more like a way to…" his gaze lingers on Kokichi's small form for a second longer, before he tears it away, "… to get rid of a specific classmate?"

"Yeah," Kaito chimes in, "I'm starting to think the mastermind wants Kokichi dead for whatever reason," The grave expression on his face matches the morbidity of his statement. He slams his fists together in determination, "We can't let that happen."

"I do agree," Kiibo pipes up, "That if Kokichi was the enemy hiding among us, it wouldn't make sense to put himself in such… disadvantageous situation," he's hesitant and careful with his choice of word, like he could somehow be tiny-phobic.

"You're all overthinking this too much," Maki's cold gaze falls back on him, and if looks could kill, a body discovery announcement would have played out, "The killing game stops when the mastermind is dead. Simple as that."

The pressure of her stare threatens to crush him. Kokichi's legs nearly give out under his weight, and his first reaction is to stumble a few steps back and plaster a grin on his face.

“Pish posh, poor Harumaki… wants to kill me so badly, she's ready to do it in front of everyone,” His voice nearly wavers, he takes another step back for good measure. No use in trying to reason with an assassin or try to gain anyone’s sympathy; it’s always easier to stick to the role he’s written himself into.

Kokichi speaking for the first time seems to trigger the whole cafeteria to erupt in a cacophony again. Maki tries to push past Kaito and Shuichi to get her grubby hands on the little leader, and the two boys defend him (at least he thinks they do); someone yawns and someone else gasps and exclamations and accusations are thrown around.

"There has to be more to this motive!"

"You're protecting him over a maybe?"

"This is terrible, we shouldn't fight!"

"Nyeh… we still haven't had breakfast…"

They argue and bicker, like they always do when a new motive is presented and they don’t know what to make of it. Kokichi finds it easy enough to block out the obnoxious voices. He lets cold logic take over his mind and shadow his fear as he assesses the situation.

Even if he refuses, they'll probably force him to be baby-sat by someone. Staying with Maki or Miu is out of the question. Kiibo would be a good choice if Kokichi wanted the eyes of the mastermind and the audience on his back at all time, and Himiko would be a good choice if he wanted all the protection of a bodyguard who doesn't tolerate him and sleeps most of the time.

Gonta does tolerate him and has already worked with him in the past; he wouldn't be a bad choice, but for now Kokichi has a feeling he'll end up sleeping in a bug case with cockroaches if he goes with the giant entomologist, so he'll pass. Kaito superman-wannabe-Momota wouldn't be so bad either, but he'll probably take advantage of the situation and try to get the tiny boy to open up about his super evil dark past or whatever; so again, he'll pass for now.

And then there's Shuichi… Staying with his beloved detective, they could stay up late at night and braid each other's hair and share their secrets, they could make plans together and explore the school and beat the mastermind like some iconic duo, they could even pick that night's game of chess back up since Kokichi still remembered the setting of the board. Staying with Shuichi, truely a dream come true, and a dream right in his reach. But he wasn't in dreamland, he was stuck in a killing game hell where he couldn't let his facade slip and show vulnerability so easily to the protagonist of their game. His eyes fall to the floor with the shame of entertaining such a dream before remembering the sobering reality. Staying with Shuichi is out the question.

Kokichi goes back to listening to the conversarion, but he finds the room silent and eight pairs of eyes on him.

“Kokichi,” Shuichi speaks again. The boy is tempted to look away, but he forces his eyes to meet the giant detective's faded gold ones, “you can stay with me if you want?"

A taunting smirk pushes its way to his face. “Man, Saihara wants to get a hold of me so he can do all kindsa weird stuff to me? Ew ew ew, so gross, I'm so terrified! How could you do this to a frightened little boy?”

“Kokichi,” he considers the exasperation in the detective’s tone a victory to him, although an unpleasant one, “You don’t need to be so obnoxious, if there’s someone you want to stay with, you can say it.” Sheesh, wasn't Shuichi dying to talk to him the other night?

His best option isn’t ideal, but he can't get too picky in his current situation. “Welll, I think I’d like to stay with big sis Shirogane!” he hears the girl in question sputter a noise of surprise, and all eyes turn to her.

“What are you planning?” Maki speaks again after a long silence, voice betraying her skepticism.

“Oh, are you jealous I didn’t pick you, big sis Harumaki?” Do you want to die?

“Do you want to die?” Bingo. Too predictable.

“Uhm,” Tsumugi’s meek voice cuts him off before he can retort, “Why me? I-I mean, I don’t mind, I just don’t understand?”

Kokichi turns to her, and she nearly flinches at his attention. At least there’s one person in the room who’s still intimidated by him. “I just wanted to stay with my absolute favourite girl in this academy," as he says that, he walks around Shuichi's still outstretched hand to better face the absolute favourite girl in question, shooting on his way a quick glance up the detective, "aaand there's also this one cosplay I really wanna try now that I'm cutie-sized. That is, if Shirogane is fine with it?"

Tsumugi looks down to her feet and starts to vibrate with excitement hard enough that he can feel it under his feet. "O-Oh, I am fine with it. I wonder if we're both thinking of the same anime… but the only male character there has a dark skin tone, and there's one girl that really looks like you… You don't mind wearing a dress, do you?" She's already walking up to him with an outstretched hand, as if driven by the by the force of her love of cosplay.

Kokichi blinks his fear away and steps into the unsteady surface, immediately understanding the fear and discomfort in Shuichi's face that last night. Questions and accusations are still coming at him left and right, but he pointedly ignores it all and waves back to his remaining classmates with his cockiest smile as he leaves in the giant girl's hand, mind already buzzing with plans to survive the new motive.

___

hope you don't mind the bit of saiou angst twist thing in the end 😔😔 I was too tempted to resist. Well hope u enjoyed dear !!

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #gtronpa #gt #Kokichi ouma #Shuichi saihara #maki harukawa #kaito momota #tiny!Kokichi #giant!shuichi #giant!Maki #giant!kaito #ask #request #writing

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coreastories · 4 years

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Corean Awards Night: Was the queen hidden in plain sight?

This year, the Corean Awards Ceremony was held in the winter palace in Pyeongchang

Usually held in Gwangyeongjeon Palace in Busan, the awards ceremony relocated to the mountains where the queen is currently recuperating from the car crash that shook all our collective knees on November 13

Ahjummas still haven’t recovered and there was talk whether or not the awards ceremony for November 29 would be postponed to a later date

But new invitations have not been issued

The Royal Public Affairs Office announced instead that the media and nominees are cordially invited to the winter palace for the Corean Awards Ceremony, with every change in transport and accommodation for this to be satisfied by the palace

Who'd complain?

Exclusively televised by the the Corean Broadcasting Service, this humble reporter didn’t really have to do much but enjoy being there

Gyeoulgungjeon, literally “winter palace,” was completed in 1926, a royal gift for the current king’s great grandparents on their wedding. It served as a recovery hospital during World War II.

Security protocol doesn’t allow me to post photos of the palace, and you’ll find no aerial shots of it anywhere. For international readers who haven’t seen the televised broadcast, you can look at the Pillnitz palaces in Dresden so you have an idea of what Gyeoulgungjeon looks like, nestled in the snow-covered slopes of Pyeongchang.

Gyeoulgungjeon has the same Baroque style, though more gracefully situated in the mountains, with a charming rustic landscaping to match the scenery rather than Versailles-formality

The Corean Awards Ceremony was both luxurious and casual. It was black tie, and almost all the men were in tuxes, but the king himself wore a simple black suit and tie rather than any of his grander uniforms and coats.

We were seated in round tables with glittering candelabra. The banquet hall left plenty of space for camaraderie, and people were on their feet, switching tables, and mingling in a friendly atmosphere. It was an evening among colleagues and the best people in the fields honored in the Corean Awards, but there were no huge egos walking around. It was delightful.

We were served delicious makgeolli, which I’ve been told was made right there in the winter palace. Aside from the sumptuous Corean and continental buffet, I also had a whole year’s serving of carbs in irresistible hotteok and bindaetteok. Gods.

The new Corean Laureate in Medicine: Chae Song-Eun Seonsaengnim

We’ve mentioned before that more than half of the nominees were under 50. Many of them won. Every Corean Award winner was decided by the most renowned in their respective fields around the world.

Go here for our coverage of the Corean Awards Winners

Dr Chae Song-eun, the queen’s OB, won the Corean Award in Medicine for her pioneering work in in-utero surgery. The award was presented by Dr. Fouad M. Abbas, one of the top doctors of the world specializing in oncology and obstetrics-- one of the judges of Corean Award in Medicine, and among the special guests that night.

In her speech, Dr Chae announced the prize money of 2 billion won is going to Daesang Medical Group, to support international surgery missions to countries and patients in need.

DMG has the queen as patroness, and is headed by Dr Chae’s husband, CorGen Chief of General Surgery, Dr Lee Sok-jun.

Dr Lee Sok-jun: “I’m very proud of her. But then she always amazes me every day. This is nothing new.”

Congratulations, Dr Chae! On your Corean Award and your husband!

Confirmed: The Prime Minister has been staying in the winter palace

Rumors have been circulating, of course, because the PM is supposed to be in Seoul but she hasn’t been there. She wasn’t in Cheongwadae either.

We can now confirm: The PM has been working from the winter palace for the past week.

This too-close tie between the palace and the government has drawn some raised eyebrows from the international press (and some local dissidents from the Jinsun Party, but no one listens to the parties). Within the kingdom, however, it’s just an accepted and beloved fact that the queen and the prime minister are friends.

They work together to the benefit of the kingdom, and these two are always in lists of the most powerful, most admired women of the world.

The PM worked closely with the king and queen at the palace. It seems Their Majesties are tying up loose ends for the year and for the next, with the PM expected to take over some diplomatic duties until well into July next year.

While we weren’t able to get a comment from Her Excellency, we did see her power walking in one of the palace’s service halls in her half-tux, half-tartan skirt outfit. Hmm. Not crazy about it, but not too bad either.

After flashing that mischievous grin like the proverbial cat with the canary, she was both friendly and curt, and we didn’t press her. She did tell us she was leaving after the Ceremony.

I would love to be a bug on the wall for the past week. I want to know the dynamics between those three!

Speaking of three…

The royal love triangle was together again-- although one party wasn’t aware of it

Part of the fun and anticipation of the Corean Awards was seeing Gong Shin and his blatant crush on the queen.

My assistant was shaking too much when she took the photo for this to turn out any good, and we’ve enhanced it as much as we could.

We met him on the way to Pyeongchang, and the Corean star was all smiles, saying he was looking forward to the evening with Their Majesties, and he was really glad the queen was well.

I was quite sad for him that night.

Before the sun went down, we were treated to the sight of the king arriving amid the Royal Guard.

No queen until evening fell and the lamps lit up the palace. Shortly before the ceremony started, it was announced the queen was not attending.

You’ve all seen this photo of Gong Shin with a flute of champagne in what looks like a dressing room in Gyeoulgungjeon. His expression does look a little forlorn.

Ahjummas are speculating it’s because he was disappointed about not seeing the queen.

Now we have these low quality photos of the king, in a different room, in a different suit, with a different expression, looking rather amused and gleeful. And we know very few people who can make the king look so happy.

The same ahjummas awww-ing over Gong Shin awww-ed over this, and speculate that the queen had entered that opulent room, or maybe the king had been told something good?

The king seemed in good spirits during the evening. We have this breathtaking photo from the Royal Public Affairs Office, of the king now in the suit and tie he’d worn that evening.

I feel like we've published the same photo before, but it's not the king's fault he looks the same bright eyed happy king he always does, is it.

And along with that photograph, we received one other:

Her Majesty the Queen, Corean Awards Ceremony, Gyeoulgungjeon

The label is succinct as always. So it looks like the queen did attend the Awards! We don’t know how they’ve managed to hide the queen, but the palace can be terrifyingly efficient like that. I’m just glad to see her even in this photograph.

And of course it’s her right to watch without being obligated to present an award or be there for the guests. It’s Her Majesty’s prerogative. And perhaps Gong Shin is smiling at the discovery that the queen saw him present the award for the Corean Award in Film, yes?

The Royal Public Affairs Office assures us the queen continues to mend. She will still be in a sling for another 2 to 4 weeks, and she has started therapy. I’m sure the queen is snug and absolutely getting the royal treatment-- pun intended.

Now if only the Royal Public Affairs Office could add something to their labels to elucidate why the queen was hidden away, hmm?

Ahjummas have weighed in on this, and said it was perhaps the old tradition of keeping the expecting mom away from the public as she goes past the first trimester, to protect her from jealous bad spirits.

After that car crash, I can get behind that!

Stay safe, Your Majesty! Stay tuned, dear reader.

------------ With thanks to @ms-interpretation for the screenshot of the king and the Royal Guard. :) If I added a watermark on a photo, it means I did some hard work on it that ate time, so the conceit of adding a watermark. Argh. Lol.

#CoreaNews #CoreaFiction #CoreaStories #the king eternal monarch #the king: eternal monarch #TKEM fan fic

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consumedkings-archive · 3 years

Text

@shallow-gravy jess..... jess jess jess...... where do i even begin huh? what do i even say? you are the sweetest, the most obnoxiously talented, and i just!! hm!! i just really adore you all to tiny bits and pieces. merry christmas my beloved friend, thank you so much for all of your love and support and listening to my ramblings, for loving my girl elliot, for letting me gush over diana. the list really do be endless!! i could probably wax poetic about how grateful i am to have made a friend as wonderful as you, but in the interest of time, i will just say: thank you thank you thank you! and merry christmas!

ii. a venom dripping in your mouth

elliot honeysett/john seed/deputy diana baker, the unholy trinity, in full-fledged terroristic force. this is pure self-indulgent trash, and i can’t believe this is an acceptable christmas gift to give you but i so hope you like it!

canon? who is she. i don’t know her. herald!elliot au, largely canon divergent but like it doesn’t REALLY matter bc i don’t go into detail that much. idk man just roll with it

words: 8.8k because i’m incapable of having any Chill

warnings: naughty language, some blood warnings, mentions of past trauma. nothing super explicit but like idk when elliot and john set their sights on diana i do think they need a warning of their own lmao. also, i guess i should warn i don’t know how anything works ever and don’t come for me, don’t drag me, this is supposed to just!!! be fun!!! thanks!!!

“Who the fuck is that?”

Burke’s crossing the street with Pratt and the rookie in tow. Diana drags a few feet ahead, smoking and attempting to not be a part of the conversation, which is hard to do when there’s only a handful of them at the office anyway.

Pratt glances up at the blonde they’re about to pass. She’s propped against the hood of a jeep, the hem of her daisy dukes barely reaching mid-thigh, taking a long drag of a cigarette. He notices the head of a snake tattoo coming down her thigh. It’s hot; the air is buzzing with bugs and heat from the midday sun, and Burke can feel the sweat collecting in the hollow of his collarbones and at the nape of his neck.

From here Burke can tell she’s not looking at them—she’s looking at Diana. Hungrily.

“Elliot Honeysett,” Pratt replies, keeping his voice low, and he spits on the ground. “John’s wife. Fucking psycho.”

Ah. A Seed, Burke thinks, with no absence of venom. A Seed but with her own last name. An uninteresting but unexpected detail.

“You know her, rookie?” Burke asks, looking over at Diana. The brunette stares at him and drops her cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with her shoe.

“No,” Diana replies shortly. “I’m not from here.”

She says it like that’s supposed to explain it, like that’s going to make it make sense why the blonde’s eyes are fixed on her, and of course it doesn’t.

“I went to school with her,” Pratt offers up, and Burke looks at him curiously.

“Yeah? She a psycho then, too?”

“Nah.” The deputy crosses his arms over his chest, refusing—pointedly—to look at Elliot even once after identifying her the closer they get. “John made her that way.”

Diana’s been quiet, lighting up a second cigarette, when she says, “I dunno. To join a cult you've probably gotta have that shit in you all along.”

Burke makes a low noise of agreement. He watches Elliot wiggle her fingers at Diana in a little wave as the cluster of them nears, flashing a most pretty smile; at first glance, he thinks that the blonde looks more bubblegum than cyanide, all curled hair tucked up in a high pony and red cupid’s-bow lips and white, white teeth.

“Howdy, deputy,” she calls, Southern drawl honeyed.

Diana visibly grimaces, pointedly pushing her gaze forward and fixing it on the office. There’s a split second where Burke thinks he sees something flash across her face, but she’s stuffed it down and the sharp lines of her expression smooth out.

And then Elliot looks at him. Burke waves, but he doesn’t smile—it’s not meant to be nice, it’s meant to relay the message that he sees her. When she regards him expectantly, he goes ahead and greets, “Mrs. Seed."

I fucking know you. No surname fuckery is going to throw Burke off the scent. There are so many boogeymen and monsters in the world that don’t want you to know their name, and he thinks Elliot Honeysett might be one of them.

She doesn’t stop smiling at the misnaming, necessarily—her expression smooths out into mild amusement—and then she opens her mouth and pushes the lit end of her cigarette onto her tongue. Pratt says, under his breath, “Jesus Christ,” and Burke thinks he can hear the sizzle for a split second before it’s out, and then she tosses the cigarette to the side.

“Marshal,” she greets him, and he slows his walk for just a moment. “Lookin’ a little flush. You not used to the hot weather, honey?”

“It’s cooling off up in D.C.,” he replies, keeping his tone conversational despite the urge to punch those pearly whites in, “but I used to come here every summer. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Elliot smiles. It’s all teeth. Burke thinks about how most animals do that as a threat. “Good. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.” And then her gaze turns to Pratt, and she says flatly, “Pratt.”

“Honeysett,” Staci returns, and he might not have been able to sound more disingenuous, but it’s well-deserved—the blonde makes no effort to hide her disdain. She rolls her eyes, mouth twisting in amusement before she swings around the front of her jeep and into the driver’s seat.

Like he can’t resist the blatant dismissal, Pratt tacks on, “Tell the hubby I said hello.”

The engine revs. Burke watches her pop a pair of blue shades on, leaning against the rolled-down window. “Eat shit, bud,” Elliot says, and smiles just before she kisses the air in Burke’s direction and pulls a hard u-turn. The tires squeal on sizzling pavement, and she waves at them through her open window before she speeds off.

Burke watches the receding vehicle and says, “They all that peachy? Can I plan on Joseph being a fuckin’ breeze?”

“Fuckin’ whatever,” Pratt says, biting the words out as Diana swings the door open. “She’s all golden princess until you get close enough to see she’s picking the wings off of flies. Why’s she so interested in you, rookie?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Diana snaps. “I don’t know what goes on in that psycho’s brain.”

Burke grimaces.

“Might do well to find out,” he says, “before we learn the hard way.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“John.”

He makes a low noise, staring at the map stretched out before him; it’s his first mistake, because Elliot has never been very patient when she has something to say, and this time is no different. She ducks under his arm and settles herself on the table, on the map, effectively breaking his eyesight with the thing which is keeping him perfectly and completely unfocused on her.

“Do you remember what you said to me when we got married?” she asks him, her voice suspiciously light and unfettered by the usual components of her timbre—like venom, or sharpness. Elliot skims her fingers along the skin exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt.

He watches her. She’s up to something. “I remember every single thing I’ve ever told you,” he replies, stifling his amusement, “and I said many things. Which are you referring to?”

“Pick one and try.”

The neckline of her tank top brushes the bottom of her Wrath scar, the jagged lines marring what was otherwise perfectly unblemished skin. What game are you playing? he thinks, but not without affection, digging his thumb past those little shorts she likes so much. “How about... ‘I can’t wait to rip this fucking dress off of you’?”

“Try again.”

Ah, so that kind of game. Not the sexy kind. “‘I’m going to give you anything you want’?” He says it with a border of cautioning, because Elliot doesn’t cash that line in very often, but when she does it’s almost always for something big. She’s in a mood tonight, this wife of his, the kind of mood that he’d normally like to take advantage of if he wasn’t busy trying to make sure they keep eyes on the Marshal.

Elliot beams at him. “You know me so well, handsome,” she murmurs, and tugs him down by the front of his shirt for a kiss; luxurious, open-mouthed, and slick, and then against his mouth she says, “I want the deputy.”

“For what?” John asks. “Dinner? She’s been around that Marshal, who’s almost certainly here for something to do with Joseph.” When the blonde blinks at him, as if this has no bearing on her request, he barks out a laugh. “You’re asking too much.”

“You said anything.” Elliot pulls back to look at him, fingers still fisted in his shirt.

“I did,” he says, slowly.

“So,” the blonde murmurs silkily, “get her for me.” And then, as though she is the most gracious: “Consider her a belated wedding gift.”

John exhales out of his nose. He’s hard-pressed to say no to Elliot, but he’s got the sneaking suspicion that this is one of the instances where he should. It’s not like Elliot ever asks for anything that’s really unreasonable—not usually—but this? He could get her just about anyone, and she wants Diana Baker?

“For what?” he asks again, brows furrowing as Elliot undoes the rest of the buttons of his shirt so that she can drag her nails against his abdomen. “What could you want the rookie deputy for, hm?”

“Does it really matter?” she prompts, looking up at him through her lashes, and he thinks no, not really, but he knows better.

“Yes,” he replies, the corner of his mouth ticking upward. “It does matter. Really. I’m going to have to pitch this to Joseph and Jacob.”

“I like her,” Elliot says without hesitation. That’s how it always goes—John will push as long as he has to, until he doesn’t anymore, because they always give each other what they want. In the end. “And we could use her.”

He scans her face. Elliot doesn’t say she likes someone without merit. He’s come to trust that she’s got an eye for people, even if he can’t always see it—and he doesn’t see it, not really, in a fresh-in-town junior deputy that’s in over her head.

For a second, he thinks about it; it wouldn’t be the first time that they’ve allowed a third party, but it would be one of few times that she’s chosen, which is different in and of itself. If he knows her at all—and he does—she doesn’t usually pick unless she intends to keep them around for a long while.

“I’ll consider it,” John says finally. “After tomorrow.”

A smile curves her mouth. She slides her arms around him and kisses his sternum, just beneath his own sin, revealed—a pair, the two of them, closer than just lovers.

“That’s all I ask,” Elliot murmurs sweetly as his thumb sweeps the slope of her cheekbone.

It’s not, John thinks, but he thinks it with love, because he does—he loves his wretched little viper, this monster that looks at him through her eyelashes and says things like, I want her, so get her for me.

It’s not all you ask, but that’s just fine.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Absolutely not.”

Jacob is the first to speak after John’s proposition, which is not uncommon. The eldest brother does tend to be the most unforgiving, John finds, of his wife’s aspirations; even though, between all of his siblings, Elliot and Jacob get along the best.

John heaves a sigh. “Elliot is convinced that the deputy can be of use to us, if she’s allowed to—”

“Your wife,” Joseph interrupts, “shows a great lack of self-control asking such a thing.”

John bites back the gut-instinct response—that Elliot shows the most control for asking, rather than just taking what she wants, because as a woman capable of it, she can—and instead swallows back, “She would like to serve the Project, Joseph. In this way.”

“Maybe I wanted the deputy,” Jacob drawls. “Didn’t you ever think of that?”

Turning his gaze to his eldest brother, John says, “Well, have you expressed that to our brother, Jacob?”

“It didn’t occur to me until now,” the redhead replies, feigning an air of innocence. “But now I think I do.”

He can feel his teeth grinding. “Funny, that until Elliot showed an interest—”

“Yes,” Joseph acquiesces after a moment. “You and our most holy sister may pursue the deputy by your own means, but you must—” And here he looks at John, pointed. “—let the love into your heart, brother.”

A wash of relief crashes over him; after the fucking shit show that the last evening had been, John thinks that it’ll be good to bring some good news back to Elliot, who’s been itching to get out into the thick of the madness. Even if Joseph seems to be implying he doesn’t want their typical means used, that’s fine. Open to interpretation, right?

“I want the deputy brought to heel, John,” Joseph continues. “It is crucial for the survival of not only us, but also our people, that you show you are capable of doing this.”

“Of course,” John replies, smiling. “Elliot and I would do anything for you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the junior deputy finally comes to, Elliot is sitting across from her. Diana makes a low, vicious sound as she lifts her head and fixes Elliot with her eyes—lovely eyes, Elliot thinks admiringly, while her molars grind and the noise vibrates through her head. John’s reluctantly left her alone; he thinks he should be the one to soften Diana for her, but Elliot thinks John’s just going to push her farther away.

“Good morning, sugar,” she greets, and Diana spits onto the floor.

“Fuck you.”

“Yes,” Elliot replies sweetly, “if you behave.”

Diana’s eyes flutter for a moment, like she isn’t expecting that so soon and so fast—but certainly she expected it in some respect, because Elliot’s been purposefully obvious about her intention for the deputy, to both Diana and John. She doesn’t want a mindless convert, dulled and emptied out by Bliss and agreeing blindly.

Her fingers itch. She tugs absently at the sleeve of her sweater, rolling her chair forward as the brunette pulls at her binds.

“What the fuck did you do with Hudson?” Diana grinds out.

“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Elliot dismisses, and waves her hand. “She’ll be just fine.”

There’s a brief moment where the brunette looks at her, sweeps sharp, green eyes over Elliot and she cocks a half-done smile at her before she says, “Yeah, Joey told me all about you.”

Elliot smiles. “Only good things, I’m sure.”

“Said you’re a fucking bitch.” Diana arches a brow loftily. “A nutjob.”

“That checks out.”

Diana spits on the floor again, ridding her mouth of the blood from her rough handling, but this time she spits it out at Elliot’s feet. Elliot sighs and tucks some hair behind her ear just before Diana asks, “So, what’s the plan here, princess?”

She blinks at the deputy. She's a little pleased at the pet name, but she doesn't want to let it show. “Plan?”

“Yeah,” Diana says, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, I’m not fucking stupid. What’s the plan? What’s the dynamic? John sends you in because you’re the pretty one, soften me up, and then he comes in to finish the job and cleanse my sins or what the fuck ever it is he thinks he’s doing?”

Elliot feigns bashfulness and flutters her lashes. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Fucking come on,” Di bites out viciously. “Whatever the ploy is, get it over and done with.”

It’s no fun when you say it like that, she thinks, but she can tell Diana’s sort of at her limit—not quite, because if this was her limit, then Elliot would have greatly overestimated her—but she’s getting there. Residual Bliss still burning through her system, and for what? For her to have more of an attitude? How well she’d chosen.

“There’s no ploy, Diana,” Elliot says after a moment, leaning back in her chair. “John wanted to cleanse you his way—I told him no.”

The deputy regards her for a moment, tugging absently at the binds on her wrists. “Why?” she asks, warily.

“Because it wouldn’t work,” Elliot replies. “You can’t make someone get better. They have to want it. And I don’t think that you do, honey.”

Diana’s eyes flicker for a moment. Elliot can tell that she’s trying to regulate her breathing, trying to smooth it on the way in and out of her so that it isn’t so laborious, but it’s hard to do when there’s Bliss wreaking havoc on all of your defenses. She would know—she tries not to expose herself to that shit if she doesn’t have to.

“You’re right,” she says after minute, “I don’t want to “get better”, and I sure as fuck don’t want anything you’d give to me.”

“I don’t want that either,” Elliot tells her. “Not through any kind of religious baptism or cleansing, anyway.” She waves her hand and settles back against the seat, fishing a carton of cigarettes out of her pocket and sticking one in her mouth before she wiggles the box at Diana. “Smoke?”

The brunette regards her hatefully, silently, and Elliot shrugs before she lights her own, tosses the cigarettes onto the nearby workbench and takes a drag. When she blows the smoke out through the corner of her mouth, she says, “I don’t think we’re that different, Diana.”

“No?” Diana prompts, her mouth twisting around the words ruefully. “I could count the ways. One of us is a married to a fucking psychopathic kidnapper...”

“Colorful.”

“... and one of us also is a psychopathic kidnapper....”

Elliot smiles, but she doesn’t show her teeth, not the way that she smiles at Burke or Pratt because she wants to make them squirm. Diana rolls her neck.

“So if you don’t wanna cleanse me,” she begins, barely modulating the venom in her voice, “why the fuck am I here?”

“I like you,” Elliot says plainly, because she’s never been able to beat around the bush, not really. She’s not as sneaky as John, as brutal as Jacob, as smooth as Joseph. She’s not like any of them, and sometimes, that’s lonely.

The deputy regards her with something close to a poison-riddled look. Instead of addressing I like you, Diana seems to take advantage of this and makes a demand, instead.

"That Bliss shit makes me feel like garbage," she says. "Don't give it to me anymore."

"You did puke it up quite a bit, didn't you?"

Diana grimaces. She looks like she might want to say something, perhaps regarding Elliot's explanation, but the blonde waves her hand to stop whatever is about to come out of the deputy's mouth. She's not there to argue the logistics of a cosmic pull, anyway.

“I moved out of Hope County straight after high school,” she explains, “and back home to Georgia. Big city. Very exciting. I was tired of this little town and how few opportunities it had. Atlanta? That shit had so much going on.” Elliot pauses, crossing her leg over her knee.

“So glad,” Diana seethes, “that I’m getting a fuckin’ origin story.”

Elliot sucks her teeth. “Anyway, I date a shithead, I break up with him, and then he breaks into my apartment and holds a knife to my neck.” Elliot waves her hand again, because these details are so inconsequential to her at this point; she can barely remember the boy’s face, or anything about that moment except for a few key details. The color of his sweater sleeve (cream); the smell of his cologne (expensive); the paint chipping around her doorframe (small, baby blue chipping to white plaster underneath).

The brunette stares at her. Elliot takes a drag of the cigarette and taps the ash off of the end.

“I’ll spare you the details,” she continues, “but do you know what I was thinking that whole time? And after?”

Diana’s jaw works loosely, absently, like her brain is firing off neurons without needing to. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Try and guess.” She pauses, and then says meaningfully, “I’m sure you’ve got an idea of the kinds of things your mind says when you’re in a moment like that.”

When she watches Diana and smokes her cigarette with leisurely, relaxed movements, the brunette’s eyes flicker over the smoke cloud and she manages out in a wobbling sneer, “Probably something like—like that it wasn’t your fault, or some other kind of psychological-drivel to make you feel like you were in control.”

Elliot comes to a stand. The deputy’s closer than she thinks; it is about control, but just a different path.

“No,” she says, planting a hand on the arm of the chair Diana’s tied to so she can lean down. “I kept thinking, ‘this isn’t going to ever fucking happen again’.”

There’s a strange suspended moment between them. Diana’s lovely—more lovely than she’d let on, probably—but more than that, watching the deputy claw and rake her way through group after group of Eden’s Gate members, causing them problem after problem, Elliot can only think, aren’t we a little pair, the two of us?

A person didn’t get used to killing so fast unless they’d at least thought about it before. Maybe done it before.

“Do you know what it’s like, Diana,” Elliot continues, “to realize that you’ve reached a point of being able to do anything to stop something like that from happening again? It’s not oppressive. It’s liberating. Why do you think an animal stuck in a trap will chew its own foot off to get out?”

She straightens up. She wants to touch—tuck the hair away from her face, trace the lines of her face—but she won’t. Not yet. She’s more patient than John is, more willing to wait for that moment of satisfaction.

Diana says, “It’s real fucking liberating knowing Hudson’s chained up somewhere.”

“You have to stop giving a shit,” Elliot replies, “about other people’s freedoms before you’ve gotten your own.”

The brunette opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, Elliot plunges on. “We’re the same because we’re both going to get it done, whatever it is for us,” she says. “By any means necessary.”

Diana’s staring at the wall. She’s silent, and spitefully so, and she won’t look at Elliot; maybe because she knows that’s exactly what Elliot wants. In fact, that’s almost assuredly what it is.

“I want a cigarette,” the brunette says after a moment, petulant.

Elliot smiles thinly and brings her own to Diana’s mouth. More enunciated, Diana says, “I want my own cigarette.”

“It’s nice to want things, deputy,” Elliot idles. “Take it or don’t, it’s up to you.”

She does, after a moment of deliberation. Elliot drops the cigarette to the concrete floor as she breathes the smoke out and stamps it out with her foot. Diana takes a long time to blow the smoke out of her mouth, and she shifts in the chair; her eyes flicker up to meet Elliot’s, and she’s sure she can see something wicked in them.

“Animals chew themselves out of a trap because they’re animals,” Diana says after a second, not exactly the profession of attraction Elliot was hoping for. “Not because it’s liberating.”

Elliot laughs and pushes the chair she’d been sitting in back and out of the way. She picks up her carton of cigarettes from the tool bench and replies. Glancing over her shoulder, she can feel her expression softening when she looks at the deputy—soaking wet, rattling with cold and what Bliss they’d manage to pelt her with. Not much, they told her, whatever “much” meant.

“We’re all animals, deputy,” she acquiesces after a moment. “In the fucking end, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Glad you’re getting along with your deputy.”

John knows he sounds petulant. He knows, and he still can’t stop it from coming out of him as Elliot peels her sweater off over her head and drops it onto the floor. She glances at him over her shoulder.

“Green with envy looks good on you, baby,” she idles, and he feels his molars grind.

“You could play a little hard to get,” John says, trying for lofty and failing. “She’s a fucking menace, after all. She’s been causing problems nonstop, she took Fall’s End from us—”

Elliot says, “Our,” without stopping her undressing, which is two parts frustrating and one part endearing because John knows she’s trying to disarm him. She’s not stealthy about her tactics, and she doesn’t try to be.

“Our what?” he asks her, barely containing his irritation.

“Our deputy,” his wife replies sweetly. She turns, finally, to look at him—giving him her eyes, because she knows that he hates when she doesn’t—and leans against the dresser. “You called her my deputy. She’s not mine. She’s ours.”

John presses his lips into a thin line. He knows Elliot. He knows what it is she’s doing, because even though Diana has been nothing but a fucking thorn in his side, hearing the blonde say she’s ours gives him a pleasant, wretched kind of thrill writhing slick and hot in the pit of his stomach. As much as he knows her intimately, so too does she know exactly the kind of thing to keep him interested.

But it is a little different, if she’s considering sharing. If Diana isn’t her own private conquest.

“Is that so?” he asks, managing to keep his voice conversational now despite his piqued interest, sidling over to her. “I seem to recall that she was supposed to be my belated wedding gift to you.”

Reaching up, he drags his fingers along the inked scales of the serpent curved around her hip, swallowing up some of those gossamer-fine scars she had given herself and stretching down her thigh.

“Well,” Elliot murmurs demurely, “would I be a very Godly woman if I didn’t share with my husband?”

The words push the corners of his mouth upward.

“No.” He sweeps his eyes over her face. “I suppose not.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Joseph quickly comes to think that the deputy is more trouble than she’s worth. John hates when he says things like to Elliot with him still in the room, because he knows that Elliot isn’t going to cow to his brother—even though she should. It’s one of the most irritating traits of hers.

“She’s making a mess,” Joseph says, standing in their kitchen, watching Elliot with his eyes—the same way that he watches Jacob, sometimes. With wariness. “More of a mess than the good she would do us if she were converted.”

Elliot replies tartly, “It’s a good thing you don’t lift a finger to clean up a mess then, isn’t it? John does it for you, no questions asked, and by proxy, I do too.”

“If you have an issue with the way things are,” his brother articulates carefully, “then perhaps you should discuss the expectations that have been set out for you by God, with God.”

Elliot’s jaw sets. The contention sits there, her death, locked in her jaw.

Oh, John thinks, and he says, “I’ll be back.” She gives him a sharp look.

“I think that’s best,” she bites out. He knows what that means—she wants to be alone to argue with Joseph as she pleases, without having to worry about Joseph going, well, what do you think, John? Because he will, inevitably. He will, and John will have to look at Elliot and say, you know that he’s right, Joseph knows best, we’re here to shepherd.

As he descends to the lower bowels of the ranch, he stops at the bottom of the stairs.

“... do more for you than you fucking realize...”

“—refrain from speaking to me like—”

“—deserve to have this, Joseph—”

They should have taken Diana to the bunker, not kept her here. Not where there is so little space between them and her. The lack of distance lets Elliot feel close to her, and like any unloved animal, when she has something to keep, she guards it viciously. This is no different.

Diana is no different.

“You’re quite the conversation piece,” John tells the brunette when he walks into the room. She’s been with them for three days, and in that time she’s nearly escaped; unfortunately, the only exit from the basement is to go up, and she’s easy to catch up there.

The deputy regards him with a half-lidded gaze that reeks of impudence. “What’s it like?”

“Having a conversation piece?”

“Being so pathetic you have to kidnap someone to be able to have conversation,” Diana drawls venomously. The words spike a bout of irritation in him, hot and wretched, and he thinks he doesn’t know if it was worse to come down here to avoid Joseph and Elliot’s argument or if he should have stayed.

“My brother thinks you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” John bites out.

“I’m really fuckin’ concerned about Joseph’s opinion of me.” She smiles, all teeth, and the gesture strikes him as eerily reminiscent to Elliot. “So what, you’re gonna baptize me now or whatever instead?”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he snaps, circling the chair that has been her home. “He doesn’t even want you cleansed. I’m thinking he’s just going to have us kill you. Stick your head up somewhere to send a message to all of your little friends in the resistance.”

Diana’s quiet at that for a minute, before she says, “Wifey won’t let that happen.”

“You—” John sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t call her that.”

“Why not? She’s been making fucking bedroom eyes at me every second, that’s not my fault.”

Diana’s goading him, but it’s hard to see around the irritation. She’s impertinent, and impudent, and there’s nothing that he wants to do more than to just break that inside her—until she’s saying his name and begging and begging and begging. It’s the part of him that Joseph wanted him to cleanse and cut out, but that Elliot tells him she likes the best.

We’re closer than lovers, she would say, digging her nails in hard enough to draw blood, the same sin binds us.

The same sin that she sees in Diana, too. Wrath, he knows, even though he hates it.

“She has taken a particular interest in you,” John relents after a moment, though he doesn’t like to, “deputy.”

“I’m a catch,” Diana agrees. He sucks his teeth.

“My wife has always been a purveyor of wretched things.” John leans against the tool bench, narrowing his eyes. “I suppose she must think there’s something salvageable about you.”

“Is there a point?” the deputy asks, sounding tired. “To this... Monologuing? It’s very Marvel-villain of you, but I don’t have any popcorn or alcohol, and it makes it a lot less enjoyable.”

“Look,” he hisses, pushing off from the tool bench, “if we had it my way, you’d have your sin revealed and you’d be on your fucking knees begging us to keep you, you wicked little—”

“John?”

Elliot’s voice drifts down from the stairwell, and he snaps his mouth shut. She’d be furious if she knew he’d lost his temper. Maybe. Probably.

“Uh-oh,” Diana sing-songs, just low enough for him to hear, “here comes the ol’ ball and chain. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

The insinuation hangs there, between them, that Elliot is their ball and chain, and he feels his blood pressure spike. “Shut. Up,” John grinds out between his teeth, just as he hears footfalls descend the stairs above. When his wife does finally turn the corner, there’s a lovely high colour in her cheeks, and her eyes look a little wild.

“Bonding time?” she asks.

“Hardly,” John replies, just as Diana says, “Oh, you know it,” and he shoots her a look. Elliot had called her their deputy, their shared conquest, but both he and Diana look at Elliot more than they want to look at each other.

He does want, he thinks. He feels that tell-tale itch. It wouldn’t be so strong if Diana didn’t just buck against them all the fucking time, but he does want, which makes it all the more frustrating when she turns that venom on him.

“We should give the deputy a little blissful encouragement,” John remarks, turning his gaze to Elliot. “It might make her behave.”

“I don’t think so,” the blonde idles, as he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair away from her face. Oh, yes—she is furious. He can feel the tension from the grind of her molars against each other. The conversation with Joseph didn’t go well, then.

“Joseph wants to speak with you,” Elliot tells him as he runs the pads of his fingers down the column of her throat. There’s a nasty, jagged scar there—he’s trying to remember where it’s from, but he can’t.

“About what?” he says, brows pulling together.

“Wives, submit to your husband as to the lord,” she intones, the obedience in her voice cloying and all-too-sweet to be genuine, “for the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Saviour—”

“Fucking unreal,” Diana says from the chair, and Elliot’s mouth ticks upward.

“As the church submits to Christ,” she finishes, fixing John with her eyes, “etcetera and so on.”

John is filled with dread. He thinks maybe Elliot’s mouthed off one too many times—she’s never liked Joseph, never even been particularly religious, and her own heritage is such a violent mishmash of religion and criminal activity that she’s hardly got the track record for piety. Scarlet is a practicing Catholic and Ambrose’s opinions on religion are unknown, considering that he’s been vanished for so long, so it’s no surprise that Elliot views religion as something like ambiguity.

“I’ll be quick,” he murmurs, which they both know isn’t true, but he says it anyway.

“Don’t rush on my behalf.” Her eyes are dark—he can see the pupils eating away at the baby blue of her irises, and when she reaches up and brushes his hand away from her face, there is a tiny tremor in her hands.

Not good at all, he thinks, stepping around her and looking at Diana. Her eyes are on Elliot for a heartbeat longer, and then she looks at him, and he knows that she’s seen it too. She’s too sharp not to have.

As he approaches the stairs, John says, “Play nice, hellcat.”

“I always do.”

Near the top, he hears Diana say, “I don’t think you’re capable of playing well with others, princess,” and Elliot says, “He said play nice, not play fair, and I can be plenty nice,” and he feels a little surge of warmth at the playfulness in her tone. It’s a timbre that he doesn’t hear out of her often, and almost exclusively with him, so to hear it now not only makes him a little envious, but also pleased.

The deputy is a wretched, wicked thing, yes; she should be cleansed, but there is also a part of him that knows Elliot would not want her any other way, just like he wouldn’t want Elliot any other way.

And that’s good enough for him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The deputy escapes.

It’s not a surprise to Elliot when he tells her, and he thinks maybe she was waiting for it all along, considering that Joseph had conditionally allowed them their pursuit of Diana as long as they can keep her under control; it would not be completely unfounded to think maybe Elliot gave her a way out, to keep the chase fun. To keep it fresh.

She takes Fall’s End back. She takes the fucking plane back. She takes Hudson back. She takes, and takes, and takes, and that’s all Diana Baker is capable of doing, John thinks—fucking taking, even after he and Elliot had been so gracious with her. It grinds against his patience as though his nerve endings have been exposed; it shreds the last of his control, sinks its claws into him like nothing else.

Sunrise Farm. Rae Rae’s. The Lamb of God Church. One after another, they play this game of existential tug-of-war; where Diana takes one and moves on, Elliot surges back in to take it back again. He thinks that his wife should be able to crush the Resistance under her bootheel, but he has the sneaking suspicion that she doesn’t want it to be done so quickly. And, in many ways, Diana outfoxes them with what appears to be little effort; their supply trucks get mowed down. The silos burn. Men keep dying.

These are all things that should disparage Elliot, but each time John points it out to her—“She’s wicked, Ell,” he’ll posit—she regards him loftily and says, “Well, she can’t be anything less than us, can she?”

Diana gets pulled back to them. She escapes. It happens over and over, until the lines start blurring, until John thinks maybe, sometimes, she lets them catch her—like she’s looking forward to those moments. When she’s there, at the ranch, things feel different; Elliot moves with a strange surety around the deputy, like they know each other already, deep in the marrow of their bones. Maybe, in a way, they do.

And in those moments, there’s a shift. Elliot allows her freedoms on good behavior, which run on such thin ice considering Diana herself, and are almost always immediately broken at first. But no matter how many of their things she destroys or spits on or takes, no matter how many times John finds himself disgustingly exasperated with her—he is always happy to see her back.

In part because he knows Joseph has given Jacob and Faith both leave to kill her if they have the misfortune of coming across her, and in part because he sees the way Elliot leans into her like a flower to sunlight; her fingers ghost over Diana’s skin, and she pulls Diana into her lap and kisses her, hot and open-mouthed, and sighs when Diana petulantly sinks her teeth into her lower lip.

It draws blood, and John knows from the way his wife looks at him that it delights her.

“Wicked,” Elliot murmurs then, tongue peeking out to swipe the blood from her lip, reiterating the word that John favors Diana with the most. “Don’t you think so, baby?”

“Incredibly,” John agrees. He climbs onto the bed behind Elliot, sweeping the hair from her shoulder and pressing a kiss to the junction of her shoulder.

“How well we chose,” the blonde purrs, dragging her fingertips along the column of Diana’s throat, and he can see the goosebumps rise in her skin. Diana’s eyes flicker, dreamily, and their gazes meet over Elliot’s shoulder. She’s tame, like this—or nearly-tame, close to domesticated, at least for a little while. It’s only ever for a little while. And though they fall into a strange, tentative routine every time she’s here—even though John can lean over Elliot’s shoulder and pull Diana into a bruising kiss, until he feels her breath hitch.

He loves it. He loves the feeling of Diana’s mouth parting under his, loves that their fingers meet, tangled, in Elliot’s hair, grounding Diana to them. At night, when Elliot has contented herself with enough of a taste of Diana and John both, when they lay tangled together, Diana kept between them.

Our deputy, Elliot had said; in moments like these, it feels true.

“You missed us,” the blonde says against Diana’s neck. “We missed you, too. Especially John.”

Her eyes are sly when she looks at him, when he pulls back from Diana to regard his wife curiously. She takes the brunette’s chin in her grip and guides her back, brushing their noses together.

“Missed having both of his little vipers,” she murmurs silkily, and John sees the flicker of her tongue against Diana’s lips. “Didn’t you, John?”

Yes, he thinks, but does not say, because his mind is encompassed with the way Elliot kisses Diana; reverently, with the intent to worship. Never rushed and never urgent, only ever luxuriating in it.

At first, he and Diana get along for Elliot’s sake—as much as they can, anyway, because even Elliot is not enough of a bridge to force them to get along—but when they have the deputy, and his wife gets called away, they fall into a kind of rhythm with each other. It’s not a familiar cadence. It’s daunting, and a little jarring, the way they bite and scratch at each other for comfort, both missing their girl.

“I’m not going to stay,” Diana says then, against the blonde’s mouth, the same way that she said it into John’s mouth. Her neck and shoulders are littered with the remnants of their time together, and he wonders if the Resistance members ask.

“We know,” John says, leaning down and grazing his teeth across the fading bruise of a love bite. He drinks in the way Diana hisses and squirms. “You’ll always leave.”

“And always come back,” Elliot agrees. She noses past the hair gathering in the crook of Diana’s shoulder.

“Like you were never gone at all.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It becomes her mantra. I’m not going to stay, Diana says every time, and every time she only sticks around for a day or more before she dissipates into the air like a wraith. He doesn’t know how long it goes on like this, but he does know that each time Joseph becomes more impatient. Each time, the act of losing her strikes a chord of panic in John—she won’t come back this time, he thinks, or maybe this time she’ll come back with more than just her, or or or—but Elliot doesn’t feed into his panic; she treats it like anything else, with the confidence that the deputy will come back. He desperately wants to keep Diana there with them, where he can see and touch and taste her, where he is certain Jacob hasn’t gotten her, but she always follows through on the promise of leaving.

“Aren’t you at your limit?” John asks, late in the evening, watching Diana from across the island counter in the kitchen. This time around, Elliot has been gone for most of the time Diana has been here, which makes it more difficult to know that her tolerance for sticking around is going to be running out soon. By the time Elliot comes back, Diana might already be gone.

“I’m always at my limit,” she replies, her idle venom more a comfort now than ever, “with you.”

“You’re a real comedian, deputy.” He saunters around the island, his hands finding her hips and his mouth finding her neck. He likes hearing the way her breath slides out of her when he does. “Though I seem to recall a specific instance in which you were not at your limit, and couldn’t stop asking me for more—”

He’s about to follow through on the insinuation, because Diana’s eyes narrow when she looks at him but she’s warm and close and he watches her gaze flicker down to his mouth, but the sound of the front doors to the house opening startles him out of the dreamy haze the brunette tends to put him in. John pushes off from the counter and walks out of the kitchen, brows knitting together at the impudence of someone to come barging in without being announced.

“Herald.” It’s one of the men, and his face cloudy. “It’s—I’m sorry, we—”

“Spit it out,” John grinds out between his teeth. He hears the sound of Diana rustling in the kitchen behind him, and then from outside, Elliot’s voice.

“Don’t fucking touch me—”

The blonde shoulders her way through the doorway as someone flutters nervously behind her. John takes in a number of details very rapidly: she’s clutching at a spot close to her shoulder, just below her collarbone, there is blood coming out of her mouth, and she’s fucking pissed.

“Get a doctor,” John barks out, just as Diana steps around him and goes to Elliot. He does, too, but mostly to clear the members of Eden’s Gate out of the room because he knows Elliot’s going to come unglued if they stick around.

“Fucking Pratt,” Elliot seethes, even as Diana’s hands go to her, trying to guide her to the couch. The blonde jerks when she feels hands on her, looking wild, and John tenses for just a second; in moments like these, his wife’s ability to differentiate between threat and non-threat is almost non-existent, and he’s suffered the consequences of it plenty of times. “Don’t—fucking—”

“It’s me, you monster,” Diana snaps. “Sit the fuck down.”

The blonde’s breathing is labored. She swallows back what he can only assume is a mouthful of blood before he says, “Hellcat.”

“I’m going,” she bites out, and then she does. Diana touches her elbow, and she stiffens, and then sits down where the brunette tells her to. When she pulls her hand away from her shoulder, it’s sticky and wet with blood.

“Jesus Christ,” Diana says, a little wrench in her voice that she quickly snuffs out. “Getting sloppy?”

“Eat shit,” Elliot wheezes. “I hate that fuckhead. Can’t wait til I—” She sucks in a sharp breath. “—til I g-get my fucking—hands—”

Diana is circling Elliot, trying to get a good look, as John grabs a first aid kid from under the kitchen sink. He keeps thinking about all of the blood coming out of her mouth; it’s not the first time he’s seen her like this, but it’s definitely not any easier, either.

“Exit wound?” the deputy asks.

“Fucking shot me with a 9 milli FMJ,” the blonde says between her teeth, “there’d better fucking be an—”

“Stop,” Diana interjects as John returns with the first aid kit, “being unhelpful.”

It’s a torturous amount of time between Elliot’s arrival and the arrival of the doctor they have for such occasions. In the meantime, Diana does what she can—she knows probably more than both of them, even Elliot with her close proximity to violence, about how to stabilize a gun wound; she cleans it and stops the bleeding as much as she can, her face set in a grim, tight expression.

The brunette packs the wound with gauze and says, “You’re a goddamn idiot.”

“Cute one though, huh?” Elliot asks, her voice a little hoarse and her eyes fluttering. “Be cuter if someone could get me some fucking oxy.”

“Save it for the doctor, princess.”

“So glad,” John manages out tartly, Elliot’s fingers loosely curling against his palm, “so glad we have your calming presence here, deputy.”

Diana regards him for a moment, and she looks about to say something when the doctor chooses precisely that moment to arrive. He doesn’t do much by way of conversation; he works silently, intensely, his fingers moving a sort of surety that comes with many years of practice, but he hardly looks at John or Diana while he works.

It’s probably odd. People know that Diana is around, but they don’t know-know, in the sense that there’s never been an official announcement or acknowledgement of what’s going on. Occasionally, the doctor’s eyes furtively flicker towards the brunette; but if he’s feeling pressed to ask, he doesn’t let it show.

By the time Elliot is stitched-up, drugged-up, and planted into the bed, the heat and bubbling fury have died out of her, the embers smothered by the painkillers. Diana lays in the master bedroom next to her while the doctor talks to him outside in the hall.

“Bed rest, minimum three weeks,” he says. “If she keeps coughing up blood, call me. No strenuous activity, no stress—”

“Doctor,” John says tightly, “with all due respect, let’s keep the expectations under control.”

The doctor grimaces. “Bed rest, three weeks. Everything else, just—try your best.”

John nods, short and impatient, and dismisses the man with a gesture of his hand before he steps into the bedroom. Elliot’s murmuring something to Diana, but the words are slurring and her voice is pitched so low beyond normal volume he can’t make it out, even from there.

He wanders to the side of the bed, sitting down on the edge by Elliot’s hip.

“What’d he say?” the blonde asks, her words slurring and her fingers tangling in strands of Diana’s dark hair. “Two days, ready—go?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Diana says irritably.

“Three weeks bedrest,” John tells her. “He thinks you have a collapsed lung.”

“Fuckoff,” Elliot groans, the words blending together.

“He also said no strenuous activity, no stress—”

At that, Diana laughs, the sound billowing out of her in a short, disbelieving bark. “Fucking what?”

“That...means you t-two have to….behave,” Elliot mumbles, her eyes flickering. “No stressin’ me—no streeeessin’—”

“Stop.” Diana sounds almost affectionately exasperated. “You are so painful to listen to.”

“—no stressin’,” Elliot finishes stubbornly, “me. Out.”

Later that night, when she’s finally drifted off into sleep and John and Diana have her settled between them, John props his head up in his hand and sees Diana still awake. She’s looking at the window. It’s open, and the late-August breeze comes drifting in, bringing with it the smell of pine and wilderness.

“At your limit?” John asks as he did before, keeping his voice soft so as not to stir Elliot. Normally, he wouldn’t ask—he would just wait to realize that Diana’s not there, and go from that point on. But it’s different, now, with Elliot like this.

The brunette turns her gaze to him. For a second, her eyes flicker over Elliot, who stirs a little.

“She always this annoying?” Diana says, instead of answering, and by annoying he thinks she means worry-inducing.

“Like it’s an Olympic Sport,” John replies.

She exhales out of her nose. They sit like that for a little while, until Diana settles back against the pillow. Elliot’s fingers are knotted loosely into the sleeve of her t-shirt, and the blonde’s breathing stutters and hitches in her chest.

“Not yet,” she answers, finally. “Not at my limit yet.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“How many days has it been?”

John’s voice breaks Elliot out of her reverie. She blinks, and realizes that she’s been checked out. The painkillers make her brain foggy, and if it weren’t for the excruciating, searing pain in her chest and shoulder, she’d just stop taking them.

The sound of the shower running in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom trickles in through the fog. That’s right: she’s in bed. She’s in bed, and John is next to her, his fingers tracing the coil of the tattooed serpent on her thigh, the cigarette in her fingers burning for who knows how long since the last time she’s taken an inhale of it.

“Since what?” Elliot asks, looking at her husband. John slides his hand up and snags her fingers, bringing the wedding ring she sports to his mouth.

“Since our viper came back to us.”

She tries to think back that far, but it’s hard. Elliot reaches over with a wince and taps the cigarette out into the ashtray. In the bathroom, she can hear the water switch off.

After a moment, she replies, “Must be over two weeks.”

Her husband makes a low noise. She brushes her fingers through his beard, and he murmurs, “Longer than usual.”

“What are you two gossiping about?”

Elliot’s gaze flickers up sluggishly to Diana, standing in her towel, propped up against the doorway. She’s such a far cry from the girl that she was when they first got their hands on her that it’s almost easy to forget she ever existed in a place where she wasn’t theirs. How absolutely dreadful, Elliot thinks, just absolutely fucking dreadful, to think she was once not ours.

“How long we have to wait for you to come back over here,” John says easily. “Not only are you using up all the hot water, but Elliot’s pining.”

“Oh, yeah?” Diana sounds amused as she makes her way to the bed. “Poor little bed-ridden snake, aren’t you?”

Elliot laughs, because it should be absurd—it should be, that Diana is here, leaning in when Elliot beckons her, the brunette’s mouth soft and sweet against her own. It should be absurd, but it isn’t, because this isn’t the first time Diana’s kissed her like this and it won’t be the last, either.

“Every time we’re apart,” Elliot confirms resolutely, “I wallow around. Just ask John.”

“I have a hard time picturing you wallowing.”

“She does,” John says, planting a kiss on Elliot’s jaw. “She wallows around and says, when do you think our Di will be back? Does she think about us?” And then, grinning wickedly, he adds, “Do you think if I ask nicely, she’ll shove her fingers in my mouth?”

Elliot laughs, grabbing John’s jaw and jostling him. “You fucker.”

“I will,” Diana says, and now she sounds sly, and in the way that Elliot does. “If you ask.”

Pausing, Elliot feels her chest tighten a little. Mine, she thinks tiredly, glancing between John and Diana both. They’re here, and hers, and even though she told John the deputy is for them she thinks maybe they’re both for her.

“What else?” She turns her gaze back to Diana. “What else will you do, if I ask?”

Diana’s gaze flickers. Her lips press into a thin little line. I’m not going to stay, she looks like she wants to say, but she doesn’t. She just says, “You’re chatty as fuck tonight, aren’t you? Sounds like it might be time for you to pop another painkiller,” and goes to fetch the pill bottle.

Elliot settles back against the pillows and watches the brunette rifling through the dresser. This is when Diana says, I’m not going to stay, her little mantra, but she doesn’t, and John tangles their fingers together and squeezes her hand.

The deputy always leaves, and she always comes back. She hasn’t said yes, she’ll stay, and she also hasn’t said no, she’ll go, and in this instance maybe that means exactly what Elliot wants it to.

Maybe, it means this time, she’ll stay.

#my writing #2020 christmas electric boogaloo #jess!!! jess!!!!#im not hiding in the tags but i hope u like it #ik you just proofed it but guess what?#it's probably still got spelling errors #<3 #just ash things #otp: the unholy trinity #anyway hi i love you #i can't believe i actually got this shit done in time for christmas #i hope..... the vibes are good #and the flow #ahhhhh lmao #ksjfskadjf #OKAY BYE LOVE YOU #fc5 fic

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