#part 1 of 2

[dragonmasteraltais]

Godzilla revealed in the new trailer for Godzilla X Kong: The New Empire.

#Monsterverse #Godzilla X Kong: The New Empire #Godzilla #Gifs #My Gifs #Trailer #Hot Pink Godzilla #Part 1 Of 2

[raytorotits]

post ray toro autism smile

#part 1 of 2

[shiorimakibawrites]

Cat Man Do - Part I (Daredevil Fan Fic)

This started out as a one-shot but has just kept growing. It will be at least two parts long now.

Cat Man Do

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Secondary Pairings: Foggy Nelson x Marci Stahl, implied Karen Page x Frank Castle Word Count: 9600 Summary: Matt Murdock is having a bad night. He has been turned into a cat with a blizzard is coming in. Lucky for him, you came walking by. And you love cats. Warnings: Animal transformation, idiots in love, unresolved sexual tension, spicy dream (voyeurism kink, office sex, fingering, dirty talk), referenced sexual acts (female receiving oral sex, , fingering, female masturbation, hand-job, PIV sex, office sex) General Masterlist Matt Murdock Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment, @bellaxgiornata, @flynnethenerd Also posted on AO3

Part 1

Nothing about the situation seemed all that unusual. Man putting his hands where they were very much not wanted. Victim’s tearful pleading only being met with a slap and a harshly whispered demand to shut up. Sour odor of fear. Coopery scent of blood through it didn’t smell like human blood. Herbs, both familiar ones used in cooking but a few that he didn’t recognize. The only peculiarity was the scent of ozone clinging to the man.

Matt yanked the man away from his victim who, rather sensibly, took the opportunity to flee. At first, he thought that the fight would be short. Very short. The man obviously didn’t know how to fight. He heard the distinctive cracking of bone, then the man desperately shouted something. The smell of ozone increased and suddenly there was . . . something between him and the man. Something he didn’t recognized – hitting it felt like the oddest combination of a pillow, cling film and static electricity. Whatever it was softened his punches to the point that he doubted the man was even feeling them.

Before he could puzzle that mystery out, the man began to speak again. Matt didn’t recognize the language but he recognized the cadence of a chant, the anticipatory menace. The sharp scent of ozone began to rise again. Pressure not unlike the air right before a lightning strike raised the hair on his body. Instinct screamed danger, threat. He couldn’t say why but he just knew that he couldn’t let this man finish whatever he was saying . . .

The man’s inexperience with fighting came back to bit him. Whatever he was doing to protect his torso, it didn’t extend down to his legs. Matt dropped down to use a low kick to sweep his legs out from under him. The follow-up throw kick to his head showed that he was also too stupid to protect his head. The man hit the ground hard and didn’t move.

Matt listened, then nodded to himself. Unconscious. Good. He opened a pouch on his belt and removed some zip ties. He secured the man, then send off a quick call to 911. He scaled the fire escape of the closest building and started putting some distance between himself and those approaching sirens.

He decided to call it a night. It was after one in the morning. He had work tomorrow. Besides there had been very little crime tonight. Probably too cold. And a big snowstorm had been predicted. When they closed up the office, Foggy said sky was completely covered with heavy dark clouds that made the twilight almost as dark as nighttime. Which matched with the shifts in pressure that he associated with oncoming storms. The smell of snow had been building all night. It hadn’t started snowing yet but it would any minute now.

But before he turned in, he would do a loop to make sure his people were safe and sound. One by one, he checked off the list. Maggie and the others at St. Agnes, Brett, Foggy and Marci, Jessica, and Karen. All good. Last but certainly not least was you, the assistant that he and Foggy had hired so Karen could concentrate on law school, by the virtue that your apartment being rather close to his own.

Matt had almost forgotten about the oddities of his last encounter when he started feeling . . . off. Lightheaded, dizzy, like he had gotten clocked in the head without his helmet on. Except he hadn’t, not tonight. Or other time recently. At first the feeling was mild, easily shrugged off. But soon it could no longer be ignored. When his world on fire dangerously flickered and he misjudged the distance between two buildings, he decided that maybe walking on the ground would be safer.

It was in the sense that he was no longer at risk of falling six or more stories. But he was so dizzy, it felt like the ground was swaying under his feet. It was nauseating. Worse, his world on fire was flickering dangerously. It was hard to tell where he was, where the buildings were, where the sidewalk ended . . . He took out his billy clubs, extended and snapped them together. It was too short to really substitute for his cane but it would do until he could get somewhere safer.

It took far longer than he was comfortable with but he managed to orient himself. He knew where he is. It was the faint odor of old smoke that helped clue him in. That building that was torched this summer. Not far from his apartment but another wave of dizziness warned him that he wouldn’t make it that far. But your apartment was very close. There was only one building between his location and your building. He would probably make it before he passed out.

This was not at all how he wanted to tell you about Daredevil but there was nothing he could do about that.

Placing his hand on the burnt building to help keep him oriented, he walked toward. He had just reached the corner when a new sensation arose. Sudden, burning pain. He bit down on his lip, trying not to scream. He collapsed, letting out a scream as he felt his bones start to bent and twist like he was doll being pulled apart by an angry child. Then everything went still and silent . . .

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You were walking home. It was later than you preferred to be out. Much later. Especially when you had to work the next day. But your best friend’s boyfriend had broken up with her. Via Twitter. So she needed someone to bring over the ice cream and the booze. So you ignored the weather reports of the big snowstorm and headed out. First to the store, then to her place.

You held her while she cried. You listened and nodded while she vented and swore off men. You both ate way too much ice cream. You didn’t ended up drinking much. Mostly because you’d rather not be hangover at work. But also because the store hadn’t much selection in the booze department – apparently the delivery truck hadn’t shown up. So said booze was limited to one six-pack of wine coolers and a good-sized bottle of peppermint schnapps.

Which wasn’t ideal. Especially since your bestie didn’t really like peppermint schnapps. Said it always tasted too much like mouthwash for her. Which was fair. But after downing three of the wine coolers to your one, she decided to give the schnapps another chance . . . it might be the wine coolers and the wine she finished earlier talking but she said it wasn’t half bad.

You had a little but found peppermint too strong of a flavor all on its own. The mint-chocolate chip ice cream was more your speed.

You loved your bestie but you were glad that she had finally fallen asleep. She had offered to let you stay at her place. But she snoozed like a chainsaw when she was drunk. Also you had tried sleeping on that couch before. It had been uncomfortable. There was a broken something or other in the middle that had poked you in the kidneys all night. So you appreciated the offer but no thank you.

You were walking as fast as you could. Which wasn’t very fast. The sidewalk was rather precarious right now. It had snowed last week. Almost all of the snow had turned into gray slush but it was cold enough that several patches had frozen into near-invisible puddles. Puddles that were very slick.

You had slipped and fallen several times this week. You had started carrying clean, dry clothes in your work bag so you didn’t have to sit in wet clothes all day. Your poor butt had more than one bruise. It would have more bruises but if your boss was nearby when you slipped, he caught you.

Your very hot boss Matt. Not that your other boss, Foggy, wasn’t pretty. He was. Just in a totally different way. But the big factor was that Foggy was engaged, to someone he very obviously loved dearly. You weren’t that kind of girl. But Matt was single. Therefore you were free to admire his good looks and daydream about him all you wanted.

Which you did. Often. Maybe too much. You were pretty sure, with the exception of Matt himself, that everyone who frequented the office had caught you checking out his ass. It wasn’t your fault. He had the best looking ass in the tri-state area. Every suit he wore flattered that ass. He also, quite unfairly, bought shirts that were a size too small. The buttons strained to contain those big muscles . . .

‘Stop it,’ you scolded yourself. Walking at one in the morning was not the time to start daydreaming about your boss and speculating that he could hold you up against the wall while he . . .

You shook your head, feeling yourself flush despite the cold pinching your cheeks. You needed to keep your mind on the here and now, eyes and ears alert for any signs of trouble. You might be only a short distance from home. This might be Hell’s Kitchen where the Devil prowled nighttime streets for nefarious characters but . . . that didn’t mean you should act recklessly. Something could still happen. And while being saved by Daredevil sounded very exciting, it also sounded really scary.

A cry pierced the night air. It sent your heart racing, hands gripping the strap of your backpack while your eyes frantically darted around trying to locate the source of the cry. You couldn’t see anything. The street was eerily deserted for Manhattan, even for this time of night. Maybe it was too cold. The whistling wind was biting, even in your thick winter coat. Even when the air was still, it was beyond frigid. If it was above freezing, you’d eat your hat. Without mustard.

You kept looking but it was so dark. There had been some kind of problem with the streetlights on your block this week. The news said something about a short. You hadn’t really been listening. But the end result was that at least half the streetlights weren’t working. The building that had gutted by a fire was black and silent, looming over the street like giant gargoyle. Many of the windows in the surrounding buildings were dark. The few that were lit did very little to illuminate the darkness.

Then you heard it again. But this time you recognized the noise. It was cat making that distressed yowl. And it sounded like it was coming from the side of that burned building. While the building gave you all of the creeps, you loved animals. Better than you liked most people. You couldn’t just leave it here. Out here in the freezing cold with a blizzard on the way at best. Hurt or trapped at worst.

But to find that poor animal, you needed more light.

You reached into your bag and took out your phone. Dead. The battery was so low that the phone didn’t even try to turn on. You had forgotten to charge it. Again. What were you going to do . . . then you remembered the little flashlight on your key-chain. Something your mom had gotten you when she learn you were moving to big, scary New York City. It was a nice gesture but the cheap thing wasn’t very bright. But some light was better than no light. You pulled your keys out of your pocket and gripped the flashlight in your hand. With a soft click, it turned on.

As expected, it didn’t do much to pierce the gloom. But you walked toward the building anyway. The building looked even creepier and emptier up close. The crack-crunch of your boots on the thin sheets of ice and salt felt inordinately loud to you. Which only made your heart beat faster. You were starting to feel like you were in a horror movie. One of the dumb girls who ignores all the obvious signs of danger and gets chopped into pieces with an ax or something. Or one of the those people in the cold opening in an episode of Supernatural, going into creepy building blithely unaware that they just made themselves dinner . . .

Something crashed to the ground with a loud metal clang. You shrieked, wildly swinging around your flashlight. What . . . then you saw it. A rat messing with a can below a window with a row of similar cans on the still . . . You squinted, cans of food. The kind that wasn’t particularly tasty but cheap and filling. Both of which was more important than flavor if you didn’t have much money. And infinitely better than no food at all.

“It’s just a rat,” you told yourself. “Calm down.”

As if in answer, the cat meowed again. It sounded close. You looked around . . . garbage bags that had been torn open and their contents scattered, piled up frozen slush, a dumpster. Wait, there was a flicker of movement on the other side of the dumpster. Giving a silent prayer that it wasn’t another rat (or something worse), you walked over. As you got closer, your nose wrinkled. The smell wasn’t nearly as ripe as it would be during the summer but it was by no means a pleasant aroma.

By your efforts were rewarded. On the other side and slightly behind the dumpster was a cat. You crouched down, not wanting to loom over the animal and scare it. It didn’t look very frightened right now – it wasn’t puffed up, it’s ears were perked up, or hissing at you. But you’d like to keep it that way. In your experience, a scared cat was a biting cat.

You looked over the cat as best you could. It didn’t look hurt. Just cold and a little wet. Probably wouldn’t need a vet tonight. Beautiful cat, it looked a lot like a Havana Brown with a thick-looking coat of brown fur and that muscular little body. Smaller ears through you were used to seeing. All the Havanas you had seen had those adorably large ears like a Siamese.

The cat remained calm during this inspection, just sitting on something leathery and dark red lying on the ground.

“Hello there,” you said, your voice soft and low. Animals might not understand words but they did understand tone. You carefully extended your hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t have to scratch me.”

The cat meowed but allowed you to touch it. You ran your hands over the cat. It didn’t react like your searching hands had found anything tender. Still you frowned.

This cat looked cared for. Had obviously been socialized from a young age. Healthy coat and well-fed all added up to beloved pet. If it . . . he, you corrected after another look, was a stray, he hadn’t been one for very long.

“Did you get lost?” you asked the cat. “Or did someone abandon you out here in the cold?”

Despite your best efforts to avoid, you couldn’t keep the anger out of your voice at that second possibility. Nights this cold could easily be fatal, even more so with that blizzard rolling in. especially for a pet that was used to warm shelter during harsh weather. You just couldn’t understand the sheer cruelty of doing something like that. If someone didn’t want a cat anymore, fine. There were far more humane options than abandoning them to die in the winter streets.

Well lost or abandoned, you weren’t leaving this little beauty out here to freeze. “It’s awfully cold out here, kitty cat. Did you want to come home with me? At least for the night?”

Of course, your only answer was more meows. But they sounded positive so you decided to take them as a yes. You didn’t have a carrier with you. But your backpack would work as substitute. You opened up your coat just enough to remove your scarf which you piled into the bottom. Your previous fur babies liked something soft to snuggle into when transported like this. It would get your scarf dirty but it was washable.

But when you placed the cat in the backpack and tried to zip it, the cat jumped out. It didn’t run away. Just went over and sat on the red thing. After this happened two more times, you let out an exasperated sigh. Looking down at the cat, looking up at you from its apparently beloved red thing. Maybe you should purrito him . . . then you did a double-take. Blinked. Rubbed your eyes. But it didn’t change.

You had only ever seen it in grainy photos on the news or in the papers. But you still recognized it. The red leather armor of Daredevil. You supposed it could be a replica. Every hero in this city had fans who did cosplay. Daredevil was no different. But if this was a costume, someone had spent a lot of time and money making it.

Your earlier frown returned. No fan who had gone to all that effort would leave this by a dumpster to get ruined. And if it wasn’t a replica but the real thing . . . you couldn’t think of why Daredevil would leave his suit by a dumpster either. Like the costume, leaving it outside in this wet weather could severely damage it.

“Curious and curiousier,” you murmured to yourself. A look uncovered the horned helmet, gloves, and armed boots nearby. Not the sticks, however. There was a holster on leg where they ought to be. You cast your flashlight around and spied something red laying a short distant away. You went there and discovered the missing sticks.

Or rather a staff since it seemed to be be only one. It looked rather long for that thigh holster and you could have sworn there was supposed to be two . . . but maybe you were wrong. You never actually seen him. Just pictures. And Daredevil didn’t exactly stand still in excellent lighting to be photographed with a high-quality camera.

You picked it up and frowned. The staff seemed rather heavy. It wasn’t so heavy that you couldn’t swing it around easily but it was weighty. A person could do some real damage with this. It was not a prop. It was a real weapon.

“Holy shit,” you said, staring at the staff with more than a little awe. Because as crazy as it sounded, you were starting to think this was really Daredevil’s staff and that was really his suit back there. But you had little time to bask in that wonder. Because a big flake of snow landed on the stick. Followed by another and another. You looked up.

It had started snowing. You hurried back over to the suit, carrying the staff. You pulled your scarf out of your backpack, looping it around your neck for the moment. You picked up the suit and started getting into your pack. Assuming he didn’t leave it here in purpose, Daredevil was going to want this back and probably would appreciate not having it damaged by the wet weather.

How you were going to get to him was a problem for Future You.

Also it seemed like the cat wasn’t coming without the suit. Why he was so obsessed with it was another mystery for Future You to untangle. When you weren’t outside in a blizzard. You managed to fit most of it into your pack, which was a little tricky since you couldn’t put down the flashlight but you managed. You zipped it closed, glad that you had grabbed your hiking pack earlier. You’d never be able to fit this much of the suit in your regular pack. The staff didn’t fit. You’d have to carry it. Hopefully you wouldn’t run into anyone before reaching your apartment.

You propped the stick against the side of the dumpster before swing the pack onto your shoulders. You left the hip belt undone. Daredevil’s suit wasn’t anywhere near as heavy as the full pack for a long hike.

“Okay, Trouble,” you said, reaching for the cat. “Let’s go.”

The cat meowed but allowed you to pick him up and place him against your chest. His front paws rested on your shoulder while you supported his body with your arm. The hand was still holding your key-chain flashlight. Which would make holding onto him if he got squirmy difficult. You gave him a stern look. “No jumping out of my arms or being a wiggle worm, Trouble. Or I will purrito you with my scarf.”

He meowed again. It sounded like an objection.

“Don’t meow me, mister. You are clearly trouble, trouble, trouble,” you said, almost singing those last words. You blamed your best friend. I Knew You Were Trouble was one of her favorite songs. Therefore you had heard it several times tonight and the lyrics were kinda stuck in your head.

The cat made a grumpy noise but stayed where he was and didn’t scratch. So you just laughed as you collected the staff and headed toward home.

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Carried in your arms, Matt suppressed an irritated huff. He wasn’t upset with you. He was upset about the situation.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he had been turned into cat. He had an idea. That scumbag he left knocked out and left tied up for the police. Even if the only explanation for that thing that shielded the man from his blows and turning him into a cat was magic. Danny had sworn up and down that magic was real. His heart had been steady as drum but Matt hadn’t entirely believed him.

Or rather he didn’t want to believe him. People developing random powers – sometimes from exposure to chemicals or radiation – and aliens was enough weirdness for one planet. Earth didn’t need magic to be real too.

But Matt tried not ignore reality when it smacked him in the face. Someone had spoke some words and now he was cat. Magic was real. He would accept that and hope that other stuff straight out of a fantasy or horror novels weren’t also real. The last thing he needed running around his city was vampires. Or dinosaurs. Or something equally ridiculous.

He also had no idea how he was going to get himself back to being a human. His only working theory was that maybe, just maybe, Danny could do something. Or would know someone who could do something about it. It was long shot but he was the only one that Matt knew who knew anything about magic.

Assuming he could get in contact with Danny in the first place. Rather big assumption there. Until and unless he could, his only other option was wait and see if the spell wore off on its own. Matt didn’t like this plan. For one, he had absolutely no idea if the spell would wear off at all. Or if does, how long that would take.

A few hours would be ideal but when was Matt ever that lucky?

No, it was much more likely that he would be stuck like this for days. If not longer. Foggy was going to worry. And when he couldn’t find or contact Matt, he was going to get scared. And when he checked Matt’s apartment and found the suit gone along with Matt, he was going to assume the worst.

He hated the thought of putting Foggy through that. But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t turn himself back. He couldn’t talk. These paws couldn’t hold a paw. He might be able to type but unless you had a braille keyboard or a refreshable braille display, he couldn’t tell what keys he was pushing. Randomly hitting keys was unlikely to produce a coherent message that would clue you into the fact he wasn’t a cat.

The only semi-positive he could find about this situation was that you had been walking near enough to the dumpster he had collapsed behind to hear his meowing. Through Matt couldn’t say he was thrilled that you were out this late. It was dangerous. Granted, most criminals had seemingly opted not to be out in the freezing cold but not all.

His heart had lodged in his throat when you had shrieked. His mind racing how he had missed someone beside you being outside and nearby. What was he going to do, he couldn’t protect you like this . . .

It was immense relief to discover it was just a rat.

But despite his desire to get yourself somewhere warmer and safer, he was unwilling to leave his suit behind. One person impersonating him and slaughtering innocent people was already one too many for his tastes.

Furthermore replacing it would be a headache. Jacobson wouldn’t be happy to learn the suit he had designed and made for Matt had been left behind a dumpster. Which was fair. He wouldn’t like someone treating his work in such a chevalier matter either. He might fix or replace it but in the meantime, Matt would be back to the black suit.

Which tended to make Claire and Foggy unhappy. They preferred he fight crime wearing something more protective. Which Matt couldn’t really argue with. Nor that the red suit was warmer than the black. Which was nice this time of year but not so nice in August.

He had felt a little silly hopping in and out of your backpack like that but it accomplished his goal. The suit hadn’t been left behind.

You had recognized the suit, of course. And seemed to realize that it was the real thing, not one of the costumes his fans made. Well, Foggy claimed he had fans who dressed up like him for something called Super Con. He hadn’t been lying but . . . why? Didn’t people find him scary? Too violent? Why not someone nicer? Like Spider-Man? Sure, he was snarky and a smartass kid but otherwise he oozed friendliness . . .

Warm air hitting his fur startled him but not as much as realizing that he was coated in snow. He hadn’t even noticed. Had he really been that much in his head? Apparently.

“No jumping down yet, Trouble,” you said to him, the arm holding him shifting a little. “We’re not quite home yet. I will still purrito you.”

Purrito? That was second time you had said that word. He didn’t know what it meant and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

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Closing and locking your door behind you was a relief. Besides the fact that you were carrying was likely the real Daredevil suit (which was probably illegal in some fashion), the snow was really coming down. Even the distance between the dumpster and your building was very short, it was getting close to whiteout conditions by the time you arrived.

You propped the staff against the wall before kneeling down to let the cat go. He didn’t go far. Curious. Cats often hide when in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people. Despite the fact he left you carry him without any trouble, you still kinda expected the cat to make a beeline for under your couch. Or your bed. But nope, just sat at the edge of entrance way, in a growing puddle of melting snow.

You quickly took off your pack and winter gear. The pack, the coat, and gloves were both waterproof so they were more or less fine. But your scarf and hat were just as wet as the cat. You’d have to hang them up in the bathroom to drip dry. Later. First, you needed to get the cat dry. Then get both of you warm.

After taking off your boots, you went and grabbed a towel from the stack still sitting on the coffee table. You had been in the middle of putting away your laundry – something along with folding it that you often procrastinated – when your best friend had called crying. You checked but the cat still hadn’t moved from his spot. You walked over to him and knelt down.

“Let’s get you dry,” you said and started towel-drying him. He was remarkably tolerate of this process. Marshmallow (may she rest in peace) would have been singing you the song of her people. Despite the fact, as a Persian, she had been groomed literally her entire life. Pumpkin or Oreo (may they rest in peace) would have tried to fight with the towel.

You had long ago developed the habit of talking to your cats. It made your apartment feel less lonely. So you didn’t think anything of telling him how much better behaved he was compared to those three of your previous fur babies.

“Trying to prove you aren’t trouble, trouble, trouble?” you asked. The cat meowed as if in answer. You laughed and checked on his coat. It was as dry as you could get it without using a blow dryer. But with the exception of Marshmallow, you had yet to meet a cat who didn’t try to run away from the thing making the scary, painfully loud noise.

And that was because Marshmallow couldn’t hear the scary noise. To her, it just warm air blowing on her which she had seemed to find wonderful.

Despite all that drama, you missed Marshmallow, Pumpkin and Oreo. Maybe it was time for new furry friend. Maybe this one, you thought, petting the cat’s fur. It was soft as velvet. In the better light of your apartment, you could see the reddish tones to the over dark brown color.

“If you don’t already have a home,” you said, thinking out loud. “Maybe I should call you Cinnamon. It matches with the color of your coat. But Trouble is so just perfect . . .”

The newly dubbed Trouble meowed. You laughed again. You couldn’t help it. He sounded so grumpy.

After another moment of consideration, you decided against the blow dryer. Thanks to the thickness of his coat, he hadn’t gotten wet down to the skin. He probably wouldn’t get matted if you let him air dry for the rest.

You mopped up the puddle on the floor with the same towel, then hung it up in the bathroom along with your hat and scarf. You walked deeper into the apartment, into your bedroom. There you retrieved your heating pad, the comforter from your bed, and one of the extra blankets from the top of the closet. It was time for part two – getting warmed up.

You carried the load out to the living room. The comforter was sat on one cushion but you made a little nest with the heating pad and blanket on the adjoining seat. Trouble seemed pretty comfortable being close to you but you couldn’t assume that he was a lap cat. You turned on the pad and went back to him

He still hadn’t moved very away from the entrance. Peculiar. You’d think a cat this confident would have started exploring. Cats are curious. Maybe he was more nervous than you thought. Through you’d think a nervous cat would be hiding somewhere. But Trouble wasn’t hiding and he didn’t run away from you. And you picked him up, his body wasn’t stiff. No tension in the muscles. He didn’t go limp like a Ragdoll but was still relaxed in your hands.

Hmmm . . . maybe his (previous) home was one where he regularly met strangers? Like he was a shop cat or something like that. Or his (previous) owner worked somewhere that allowed people to bring in their pets as long as they didn’t cause a disruption? Or traveled regularly like a show cat. He was pretty enough for a show cat. Any of those might explain why Trouble seemed so comfortable with a stranger in a strange place.

Or maybe he was just a people cat. Each cat was an individual after all.

You placed Trouble down in the nest. He didn’t immediately jump off. Which had been a possibility. Cats often didn’t like things that weren’t their idea. But this cat seemed willing to explore the nest instead of rejecting it outright. Giving everything a sniff, feeling the blanket under his paws. Not quite making biscuits but close.

Judging by the purring, Trouble seemed to be enjoying himself.

You would have loved to keep watching but you wanted something hot to drink. Normally you’d make coffee but it was already stupid late. Not the time to start drinking something with caffeine. So herbal tea it was. While the water heated, you remembered that you needed to charge your phone. But after that brief detour, you started shifting through your tin of herbal teas . . . what sounded good . . . you picked out the one calling itself Apple Spice.

You poured the water over the tea bag and enjoyed the rising aroma as the tea seeped. You couldn’t remember which spices were supposed to be in this tea. But it smelled like apple pie so you’d guess mostly cinnamon and nutmeg. Tasted more like apple cider than pie but you still enjoyed it. You carried your mug over the couch.

You sat the mug down on the coffee table for a moment so you could wrap yourself in the comforter and sit down. You pulled your legs up onto the couch under the comforter, shifting until you were sitting cross-legged. You leaned toward and grabbed the mug.

You had only taken a few sips before you felt paws on your leg. You looked down at Trouble. He was looking up at you beseechingly.

You smiled and lifted the edge of the comforter. “Come here, Trouble.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He crawled onto your lap, circling a few times before settling down. The low purr only got louder when your hand couldn’t resist the urge to pet. And scratch him behind the ears and under the chin. Despite the name you had given him, Trouble really was such a sweetheart. How could anyone abandon him on the streets to die? You just couldn’t imagine it . . .

‘Maybe,’ you thought. ‘It wasn’t on purpose. Maybe something happened to his humans . . .’

You yawned. You still didn’t know how Daredevil tied into this abandoned (or lost) cat. It was possible that was just a coincidence. That both Trouble and the suit just happened to be in the same place. But maybe the suit smelled familiar to the cat . . . maybe this was Daredevil’s cat . . .

.

“What would Daredevil name a cat?” you murmured to yourself. “Lucy Fur? Holy Terror? The Lord of Felines? Hiss the Devil-Cat?

A soft meow jerked you back to alertness before you could spill tea on yourself. But if you were falling asleep sitting up, you should put that mug down. You had drunk most of it. It was fine. You sat down the mug, leaned your head against the back of the couch. You just needed to rest your eyes. In a few minutes you’d tidy up, start unraveling those mysteries . . .

Just a few minutes . . .

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Matt listened as you fell into a deep sleep and contemplated life’s little ironies. When he had pictured laying on your lap, this was not the scenario he had in mind. It had been more like using your lap as a pillow while your hands ran through his hair. Sometimes the fantasy was a lazy afternoon where you two were wearing comfortable clothes and simply enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes the fantasy turned dirty. One where the only clothing you were wearing was a shirt and panties. And he was unable to resist being so close to your core. Kissing and touching until you were squirming and his nose was filled with the scent of your arousal. Then he’d slide off the couch, then peeled off those panties hiding his prize. He’d kneel between your spread thighs and . . .

He shook his head. He couldn’t think about that. It was never going to happen. Before, he would have had a chance. You were attracted to him. More over, he had once (unintentionally) overheard you telling your friends that you liked him. In more ways in one. One of those was the ‘I want him to fuck me on his desk’ way. Your words, not his. And Matt would be liar if he said he hadn’t thought about exactly the same thing. Imagined your soft skin under his hands and your pretty moans in his ear while he buried himself deep inside you . . .

‘Never going to happen,’ he reminded himself. Even through you had also made it clear in that talk with your friends that you always dreamed being with him like (again quoting) ‘one of those disgusting adorable couples who snuggle every chance they get and give each other forehead kisses.’

But in his experience, people either interested in Matt Murdock or the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Not both. Never both. He didn’t expect you to be any different. Not once you knew that mild-mannered blind attorney Matt Murdock was Daredevil.

You were going to find out. You were too intelligent not to figure out that something was going on with your boss. You probably already had some questions. He knew you hadn’t missed those days when he had injuries that couldn’t be hidden by his day suit. Even when his injuries were completely hidden, you had noticed that he was moving wrong and asked if he was alright. So far you hadn’t questioned his excuses but he didn’t think you entirely believed them either.

Sooner or later, you weren’t going to placated by those (he was told rather flimsy) excuses. You’d want the truth. Perhaps you would draw your own conclusions about what was going on with him. Become worried about addiction or abuse. Perhaps you would confronted him about it – you were rather shy but concern for others seemed to bring out your courage.

This incident would drop all kinds of clues into your hands. Especially if you got the chance to inspect his suit more closely. He didn’t have his name sewn into the collar or anything as obvious as that. But his burner phone was in one of the pouches. Finding Foggy and Karen in the contacts was going to give you all kinds of questions.

He doubted you would make the leap that the cat you had rescued was Daredevil, rather than his pet cat or something. Which was understandable. If he was in your shoes, it certainly wouldn’t be his first theory. Or his second. He was living it and he was having difficulty believing it.

At least this time he had time to prepare for the upcoming conversation. Judging from past history, it was going to be unpleasant – yelling, tears, suspicions that he was more or less faking his disability. Followed by new distrust warring with previous affection. If he was lucky, enough of that affection would survive. And if that luck continued, you would accept his nature and agree to remain friends.

If he was unlucky . . .

And if he was very lucky, you’d break the pattern. You’d accept him for who he was, man and devil. The discovery of his darkness wouldn’t kill your attraction to him. You’d say yes when he asked you out, the first date of many . . .

Through Foggy claimed he was already dating you. Which no, he wasn’t. He would know if he had asked you out and you had agreed. And you would have kissed, at least, by now if you were dating. Foggy had rolled his eyes and muttered something along the lines of ‘Oh great, both of them are idiots.’

That aside . . . Matt knew he would never be that lucky. It was a beautiful dream. But that’s all it was. A dream. It was far more likely that he was going to be stuck as a cat for the rest of his life.

‘Through,’ he thought as he started to fall asleep. ‘Being your cat wouldn’t be so bad . . .’

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You let out a frustrated whine.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, his deep voice rich as honey. “You don’t want anyone to walk in and see you like this, do you?”

Like this meaning on your boss’s lap with your skirt hiked up around your waist, your legs splayed wide so anyone who walked in that door would get a good look at your panties. That wasn’t only thing they’d get an eyeful of. Your blouse was unbuttoned, the cups of your bra pushed down to expose your breasts. One of your boss’s large hands was fondling a breast, rolling the taut nipple between his fingers. His other hand was teasing your covered cunt, pressing far too gentle and fleeting touches to yourclit.

“Or is that exactly what you want? For someone to see you like this? Did you want everyone to know? That I’m touching you like this?”

You squirmed, feeling your face flush worse than it already was. The hand on your breast gave it one last squeeze before sliding down to grip your opposite hip.

“I think you do. You want someone to see how wet you are. For them to know how eager this pussy is for my cock.”

He pushed himself upward, a pale mimicryof thrusting you craved. But it did remind you of the hard, eager cock pressed tightly against your ass. It would be so easy. Just take off your underwear and let him get his pants off. Or at least enough of his pants off to free that cock. Your cunt clenched desperately. You didn’t care if he fucked you in this chair or on his desk. Just as long as he was inside you . . .

“Or even just my fingers.”

Fingers hooked around panties, pulled them away from your cunt. A single finger ran through your folds, coating itself in your slick. Tracing the entrance before the tip dipped inside. But rather than sinking deeper, it withdrew. Before you could protest, it dipped back in. Then back out. Again. And again. Always just the tip of his finger. Nothing more. You needed more. You tried to thrust up. But the muscular arm across your torso with its hand gripping your hip kept you pinned against him. All you could do was squirm . . .

“Matt,” you moaned, burying your burning face against his neck. “Please . . .”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You jolted upright. You were trying to get to your feet before what had woken you even registered. Unfortunately for your dignity, your comforter had gotten twisted around your legs so your attempt only resulted in you falling on the floor. More fortunate you managed to avoid smacking your head against the coffee table. As you tried to get yourself loose of your own comforter, you sleepily wondered why you were sleeping in the living room.

Then everything came flooding back. The visit . . . the cat . . . the suit . . . the dream . . . you felt your face flush. Then you realized what had woken you up. Your phone was ringing. As you got yourself to your feet, you muttered unkind things about the phone. It had shattered the dream just as it was getting really good. And the place between your legs throbbing with need. It was tempting to ignore your phone in favor of slipping your hand inside your underwear . . .

But in the end, responsibility won and you got your phone. It had gone to voice mail before you got to it. You unlocked it and checked the phone ID. Foggy. Why would Foggy be calling you . . . then the time registered.

Your heart almost stopped. The office had opened two hours ago. You were late! Your fingers frantically hit the call back, praying that you hadn’t just gotten fired. You needed this job . . .

Foggy’s cheerful hello was a promising start.

“Sorry, I know I’m late,” you started before Foggy interrupted you.

“No, you aren’t. The office is closed today.”

“Huh?” You said, trying to remember Foggy or Matt saying anything about that yesterday. You couldn’t remember . . . but your brain didn’t exactly work before its’ morning caffeine hit. And thinking about Matt only made you think about the dream. Which made the wet heat between your legs even worse. “Why?”

“Because there is roughly three feet of snow? With more still coming down? And high winds that have already knocked out power in parts of Manhattan and might do the same here any minute now?”

You immediately went to the window and peered out. You didn’t have the best view but it was as Foggy reported. Snow piled high on the streets below while more swirled across the window, day not looking not much brighter than twilight despite already being mid-morning . . . “Wow, you aren’t kidding about the weather.”

“I never kid about the weather,” Foggy said with mock seriousness. “The city powers that be don’t recommend going out in that mess. And even if they did, I’m not walking in that for anything less than a life or death emergency. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said.

“I called you earlier but you didn’t answer and didn’t call back. I just wanted to make sure that you knew not to come today. Probably tomorrow too. More depends on how long this storm last and how long it takes to get things running again.”

And to check that you were alright. Both of your bosses were worry-warts. Matt was worse than Foggy in that regard. Always got that worried furrow in his brow when you were going to be walking home alone, right before he offered to walk with you. Often you accepted. Mostly because it gave you an excuse to spent more time with him.

And he knew all these little hole-in-the-wall restaurants with the most amazing food . . . Through whenever you talked about those little side-trips, everyone – your friends, Foggy, Karen, your mom – always asked you if you were sure that Matt wasn’t your boyfriend . . .

Yes, you were sure. Those weren’t dates. If they had been, you would have been kissing Matt. And you definitely wouldn’t have been able to resist having sex with him this long if you were dating. So they were just a side-trip taken with your friend and employer.

“Okay,” you said, shuffling away from the window and toward your small kitchen. “Thanks for checking on me. Everyone else okay?”

“No problem,” he said. “Karen’s bunkered down with . . . er . . . a friend. Matt hasn’t call me back yet. I was just about to ring him again.”

You didn’t know Karen had a boyfriend. Odd that she had never brought him to Josie’s with the rest of the group . . . but then the second part of that statement caught your brain.

“Matt hasn’t called you back?”

“No,” Foggy said. “But I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just didn’t hear his phone ring. Matt sleeps like the dead sometimes.”

Not hearing something didn’t sound like the Matt you knew. Who seemed to hear everything. No matter how quietly you moved, he always knew you were there. But Foggy knew him better than you did. And he had lived Matt for years. If Foggy said Matt was a heavy sleeper, then he was a heavy sleeper.

Still his voice sounded odd. Like maybe he was worried but trying not to show it. But maybe you were just protecting your own worries onto Foggy.

“Okay. I’ll let you get back to that. Bye, Foggy,” you said, trying to keep those worries out of your voice. ‘They were unnecessary,’ you reminded yourself silently. Matt was blind but he was also a grown man. He could care of himself. He was fine.

“Bye.”

You tucked your phone in your pocket. Ugh . . . you were still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Your work clothes since you hadn’t changed before getting that tearful phone call. You had wanted to get that laundry finally put away before you found another excuse to avoid doing it. You needed a shower. Especially since the power might go out – who knows when you’d get the chance for another one?

You put on coffee and tried not to worry about Matt.

“Matt doesn’t need you fussing over him. Even if he does come in looking like he got into a bar fight sometimes,” you told yourself sternly. Like last Friday, he had been sporting a set of spectacular set of bruises across the right side of his face. Which he said was the result of missing a curb and tripping. Which sounded rather peculiar to you. Yes, he couldn’t see the curb but he seemed pretty skilled with that cane of his . . . and Matt moved with the cat-like elegance of a dancer.

Maybe even graceful blind men had trouble with two left feet sometimes.

Speaking of trouble . . . where was that cat? You hadn’t seen him since you woke up.

“Trouble,” you called out. “Where are you? Here kitty, kitty,”

You heard a meow. Not close by. But the coffee was on so you could look around. It took several minutes and more meows to find him. Trouble was in your bedroom closet, on the shelf above the clothing rod. You weren’t sure how he he managed to get up there but cats were like that. It was amazing the places they managed to climb up or squeeze themselves into. It seemed he had started exploring while you were sleeping.

Looking at Trouble, you frowned. Something was . . . off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what . . . no, wait. You raised up your phone. You had been using the flashlight app to look in shadowy places like under furniture. You ran the light across the cat’s face, watching closely. Once, then twice to make sure you were really seeing what you were seeing. But you were. His eyes weren’t reacting to the light.

You raised one finger, then moved it back and forth in front of Trouble’s face. He wasn’t tracking the motion through his whiskers tilted forward, his little nose twitching. He was paying attention, his ears were up and pointed toward you. But his eyes . . .

“Are you blind, Trouble?” you asked, reaching back up to pet the cat. It was impossible to resist that sinfully soft fur.

He gave a soft meow as if answering your question.

Well, Trouble being blind didn’t change your plans. You were still going to adopt him if he didn’t already have a home. You made a mental note to have the vet check your theory about his vision when you took him in to make sure he was healthy as he looked. You were tempted to get Trouble down from his perch. You were pretty sure that he could back down without hurting himself. Without making a mess by accidentally pulling something down with him . . . that was another kettle of fish. And while most of what on the shelf was soft, some wasn’t and that stuff could hurt Trouble if it got knocked off while he tried to get down.

On the other hand, getting a cat out of a hiding spot could be tricky. Trouble hadn’t been aggressive with his claws even once but he might make an exception for getting grabbed and pulled out of somewhere he was hiding. Normally you’d purrito him but that high shelf wasn’t the easiest location to purrito a cat . . . the beep of the coffee maker interrupted your train of thought.

You decided to have some coffee, then consider how to get Trouble down from there. But halfway through that first mug, you heard a thump. One that wasn’t, thankfully, followed by any crashing noises. Just Trouble strolling into the kitchen, very casual. He stopped a few feet away from you, head turned you – ears alert, upright tail curled into a question mark.

“Yes, Trouble?” you said. Then thought about it for a minute. “You hungry? Breakfast?”

Another answering meow. But then you had another problem. You didn’t have any cat food. You had given the last of Oreo’s special food to a friend whose cat had the same dietary restrictions. But you did have some baked chicken. That should work. Cats usually liked chicken. Fingers-crossed that it wouldn’t upset his tummy. Or make him very sick because he needed a special diet.

You cup up the chicken and put some of it into a small bowl. You sat it down in front of the cat along with a second dish with water. After giving both bowls a very thorough inspection with his nose, the cat seemed to accept the offering and started eating the chicken. You put the rest away and made a mental note to set up the litter box. You might not always have cat food on hand but you had encountered enough unexpected cat acquisition to keep cat litter in the house. Muddling through a night without cat food was one thing. Without cat litter was something else and not an experience that bears repeating.

You drank your coffee and considered your own breakfast. You didn’t really feel like making anything complicated right now. Maybe scrambled eggs? With toast? That would be quick and easy. You nodded and made yourself breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast didn’t take long and soon you were seated at your little kitchen table, listening to one of your regular podcasts while you ate and made plans.

First, your shower. Get yourself clean and put on some clean clothes. Something comfortable since you weren’t going anywhere and there wasn’t anyone to impress. At the very least, fresh underwear since your current pair was uncomfortably damp. Along with your thighs. You were alone but the thought still made your face feel warm. Maybe, while you were in the there, you should take care of the still almost-painful ache between your legs . . .

Tidy up your apartment. Pull your emergency kit from under your bed. The Daredevil suit and all its mysteries . . . your fork scrapped the plate. The sound this produced made Trouble flinch.

“Sorry Trouble,” you said. You had been so in your head, you hadn’t realized that you already eaten all of your eggs. You moved the plate to the sink, left your mug by the coffee pot – you’d drink more when you were done with your shower – and headed toward your bedroom.

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Matt might actually be in hell.

He thought it was bad earlier, when you started dreaming and his nose was filled your heavenly aroma. And when he heard you moan out his name, begging him for something. Something he couldn’t give. Not while he was like this. He had scurried out of the comforter and hidden himself before he did something . . . rash.

But this? Listening to you touching yourself? It was worse. Far worse. When there was nowhere in your small apartment where he couldn’t hear the beautiful sounds you were making. Couldn’t smell the mouth-watering scent of your arousal. Couldn’t escape the knowledge that it was always his name being moaned out.

It was torture. Pure torture.

He wanted so badly to be himself again and in that shower. Holding your naked body against his own, fingers pumping into your cunt and toying with your clit until you begged him for release. After you shattered under his hands, would he fuck you against the shower wall? Or would you turn the tables on him? Push him against the tile and start working his cock with your hands until he was the one begging?

Would that be enough to satisfy you both? Or just the beginning?

He buried himself further into the pile of blanket and comforter in a futile attempt to muffle your gasping recitation of his name as you chased your release . . .

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You walked out the bathroom feeling refreshed.

Your eyes searched for Trouble. You didn’t worry when you didn’t immediately find him. There were a lot of places in your apartment for a cat to hide. And when you went to collect last-night’s tea mug, you found him.

Or rather you found his tail. He had apparently attempt to hide himself in the pile of blankets but his tail was sticking out. You giggled as you reached out and tickled his tail. He meowed, squirmed around in the blanket until the tail disappeared into the depths.

“Not planning to come out of there, Trouble?”

The responding meow was loud, like a very firm no. which only made you giggle harder. But you left him in his blanket cocoon. He wasn’t harming anyone. If he wanted to hide for a while, you’d let him. At least he wasn’t trying to ‘help.’

TO BE CONTINUED . . . in Part 2

NOTES

The kick combination that Matt uses against the magic user is from capoeira, which is an Afro-Brazilian cultural practice that is both a martial arts and a dance. The movements require great bodily dexterity. It’s very cool.

Purrito means wrapping a cat in a towel, small blanket, or similar like they were burrito. It’s way of holding the cat without getting scratched since the paws are all inside in the burrito. Some cats find it calming as they like the gentle pressure all around them like a hug. But some don’t.

Havana brown is a cat breed developed from mixing the Siamese with brown domestic short-haired cats. They are brown to reddish-brown – right down to their whiskers – with green eyes. Very pretty cats.

Jacobson is Luke Jacobson, the fashion designer from She-Hulk. In this story, Matt saved him one night when he was in New York. He was appealed by Matt’s homemade supersuit. He demanded to make him a better one as a thank you for saving his life. And wouldn’t take no for answer.

Melvin Potter, his old suit guy, Matt has been representing as a way of apology for the trouble Melvin experienced during Season 3. Matt might introduce Melvin to Jacobson who is curious about his other red suit.

#fan fiction #fan fic #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #part 1 of 2 #cat man do #a03 link

[bisclavaret]

favourite daughter

#bg3 durge #durge #dark urge #bg3 #wip #:^) #part 1 of 2 #my beloved durge Mal before the Everything #there’s more doodles of him on my sideblog too I’ll rb them here as well #his pronouns are he/they also #wasn’t id-ing as such at the time this illus is set in but still #Mal #oops I started this in November el oh el has it rly been that long #my art

[chick-it-out]

🐥💜🐥

#chickens #birds #art #lesbian #pride #flockintogether #lesbihens #part 1 of 2 #big tiddy chickin gf...

[bi-the-wei]

Lan Wangji really tries not to tell his beloved husband "no" if he can help it.....

But.....

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #derps #part 1 of 2

[bobbie-robron]

As you said… (Part 1)

Doctor Who | The Church on Ruby Road

#dr who #dr who spoilers #doctor who #doctor who spoilers #dw spoilers #the church on ruby road #20231225 #15th doctor #ncuti gatwa #ruby sunday #millie gibson #general quotes by the characters #part 1 of 2

[wolvesandfoxes25]

The beauty of forgiveness..and how it tied together two storylines.

So, I did make a post on Jean saving Reiner but as I cooked dinner tonight, I thought back to one of my main otps...Destiel. And how Castiel saved Dean from hell. And...I thought back to Jean saving Reiner, and it clicked in my brain. Like a bulb flicking on.

TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide attempt gif from AOT and talk of suicidal ideation. PWC (proceed with caution.)

Anyway, we all know that Reiner was suicidal in Season 4. He was being eaten alive by guilt.. Not only that, but his ENTIRE life had been a lie. Not to mention, he was the only one in his group to return home. There's a lot of layers to Reiners tragic character. Self hatred, survivors guilt, insomnia, PTSD, weight loss, etc.)

All of these events came from him waiting for death.

First gif was after the declaration of war. He wasn't going to fight, he was waiting for it to all be over. He even says.."Just let me...die in peace." Suicidal ideation.

Second one..he attempts suicide. The ONLY thing that stops him from pulling that trigger was Falco and the future child warriors. That's it.

Third one: Waiting for Falco to eat him after Zeke transforms everyone. Didn't fight, or struggle, just wanted to be eaten and done. That's suicidal ideation.

Honestly, I could probably tack on more, but those were the BLATANT tries at killing himself. Not to mention, he allowed Jean to beat him to a bloody pulp and probably would've let him beat him to death, too. Yes, I said allowed.. he didn't make any sort of attempt to fight, didn't put his arms up, no shielding his face, nothing. He wanted that beating because he felt he deserved it. That's why he didn't fight back. Honestly, a part of me felt like he goaded Jean, he knows his temper (hair trigger) knows it's a sensitive subject. Knows nothing he says will make it better. And kept going, anyway. But that's just MY theory.

^^rough scene to watch. Because it makes Jean feel so fucking badly.

Part 2: Forgiven?

Jean says he forgives Reiner, but it still feels...empty? To me. But hell, maybe that's JUST me. Cause Reiner doesn't forgive himself. I think he's relieved to some degree that they UNDERSTAND the plight he, Annie and Bertolt went through. But is that forgiveness? Or just understanding?

Part 3: Reiner played a big part in Jeans story.

It's been established during training Reiner was held in high regard by the other scouts. Which is exactly what Reiner was trying to portray. A fake personality. A fake sense of security for those around him. And Jean wasn't impervious to this. He, like Reiner, had his own facade. Being a smart ass and overly confident. Which...as we know covered low self-esteem, low self worth and fear. Man, sounds like someone else we know, huh? Few things we know of Jean and Reiners childhoods..

Both bullied

Both 'sweet boys'

Both sensitive

Both mamas boys (I don't like Carina)

I'm gonna just add this. I LOVE how a lot of the men in this manga all really love their mothers. Jean, Eren, Armin, Levi, & Connie. I digress though.

Jean wanted to iminate Reiners' strength, perseverance, confidence, and skill.

^^bisexual panic 😋😋

"That beautiful bastard."

Continued on Post 2...

#jean x reiner #reijean #my meta #reiner x jean #reiner braun #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #part 1 of 2

[vewyscawy]

Two’s a Crowd

Pairing: Sun x Reader x Moon

Wordcount: 1514

Tags: mentions of sex (smut in 2nd chapter)

Summary:  Sun and Moon get a much needed upgrade, and they can't wait to show it to you- the security guard, and their lover. 

Part 2 (new account)

It had been a while since you started as a security guard at the Pizzaplex, and you hadn't spend that time idle. Most of the animatronics had given in to your friendly charms, but you had made closer friends even with the Sun and the Moon animatronic in the day care. Sunny was such a bright, upbeat character, a little too much sometimes, but you knew it all came from a good heart. Moon was a little stand-offish, but after breaking down the initial walls you found out that he too was a sweetheart. Just a little more walled off than Sun, just as hurt, but also just as kind and protective.

Both A.I. had started to develop feelings for you over the time you'd spend here, with you remaining blissfully unaware. Sure, you'd notice Sun getting significantly more upbeat and somehow calmer when you'd seen him, and Moon loved to follow you everywhere when you did your rounds, cracking jokes and being his sarcastic self, but you chalked it up to them bonding to you. A close friendship if you will.

Surely animatronics couldn't feel more for you than that, even when you felt quite a little more...

Honestly you were feeling a little pathetic about it; Sun and Moon were an animatronic build for kids. And despite the fact that you knew they were sentient, you weren't sure how deep their feelings could go. Weren't sure about how much they'd know about romance, even if their feelings did run deeper.

One thing you were sure about is that they definitely did not have anything... down there.

Oh, you'd seen Sun naked once, having to clean off all the gunk from a party gone wrong (or right if you had to believe the kids' version of the events), washing of cake and glitter glue and whatever it was he was coated in. When he'd seen you he made this whole deal about you seeing him naked in the shower because he liked to be dramatic, but honestly he was right; he deserved just as much privacy as anyone would when showering, so you'd left, apologising for walking in on him.

You hadn't spoken about that afterwards, but that was okay; neither of you felt the need apparently, and what would you even say?

That was until one fateful day when not only the animatronics had proclaimed their love for you, but also some other, not so innocent feelings. Their fingers did the talking for them afterwards, and the three of you had gotten into... quite the mess. Sun and Moon taking turns making you come for them, which seemed to be quite enough for the two.

Lately you'd been wishing there was something you could do in return though. And not only that... you wished they could actually take you.

You put these feelings and thoughts to the back of your mind, after all they were bots designed for the daycare. There was no way they'd ever be given something like a dick.

------

After you'd made your rounds though the underground (you always did this first, because you were always iffy about this area, and you wanted to spend most time with the animatronics), your feet found their way to the daycare without thinking about it. It had been a couple of days since your last shift, which was also when the daycare had been closed for a bit. Apparently your little celestial duo got a little much needed upgrade, and you couldn't wait to see them again.

The opening of the slide with "slide into fun" above it sung to you once again, and tonight you decided that, yes, you would slide into fun this time. And with a little giggle you made your way down into the ball pit. Germs be damned. You knew Sun kept the daycare squeaky clean, and some germs weren't gonna kill you, as long as you didn't... idk... lick the balls. And you surely weren't planning to. (OR WERE YOU)

You popped out of the pit, balls flying as you threw your hands above your head, expecting Sun to instantly be on you, either hugging you or holding you up like you were an airplane or perhaps even Simba.

No Sun appeared.

"Sun? Sundrop? Where are you?" you yelled out, looking around. Sure enough, you couldn't see your Sunny anywhere. Making your way out of the ballpit you muttered a "what the heck", already used to Sun's strict rules about language. "Where could he possibly-" a giggle came from somewhere in the play area.

Oh he was playing with you.

"Sun you little potato. You know I don't have time for playing hide and seek!"

A long, slipper clad leg appeared from behind one of the climbing areas and your gaze was upon him in a second as he came from behind it with a twirl.

"Sorry Dewdrop, so sorry! We just had a little surprise for you!"

He giggled again as he made his way over to you. He seemed... different somehow. You wondered if his need to surprise had something to do with that.

"Oh, and what would that surprise be?" You sat down on the edge of a little table, waiting for him to come closer. The closer he came the more you realized the difference in him. And when his grin widened at your face you were certain of at least one thing; they completely overhauled his faceplate!

"They fixed your face!" came your yell, a little louder than intended. You jumped up and instantly grabbed his face, making him laugh. His mouth was fully animated, and blue sparkling eyes looked down at you adoringly. "That is so cool! The kids will love it!" you gushed, looking him up and down, watching his mouth open a little as he giggled at your enthusiasm.

"Just the kids, Dewdrop?" he said with a cheeky smile, and you shook your head at him. His face portrayed so much emotion you just took a moment to look at him and bask in the happiness that you felt both from him and yourself. Your mouth found his', just giving him a little peck like you usually would when his face was still static. His fans turned on, and the rays around his head started spinning in the way you were used to every time you'd give him a little (or a big) kiss.

"So, so very impatient! Impatient little Sunflower. There's so much more to show you!"

"I'm sorry Sunshine, I just got so happy looking at you I couldn't help myself."

He humph-ed, and crossed his arms, but the smile on his face told you enough.

"So is this the surprise?" you asked, taking a little step back to take him in. His clothes looked fresh, and so did his paint job. He was cleaned and tweaked, and you were sure every kink and glitch was taken care off in the process, making the daycare attendant up to date and ready to provide the best of care.

Sun grinned. "Hmmm, well, it's part of it." a giggle broke from him, and you raised your eyebrows.

"Oh? And what would be the rest?"

"Me." came from behind you, so close to your ear you shrieked. With a woosh of air you turned around, ready to tell the person who startled you off. When you saw who was standing behind you though all fight left you instantly.

"Moon!?"

The naptime animatronic chuckled, voice still the same, but mouth now fully able to stretch his grin to match his mood. Sharp teeth were visible as he spoke to you, and his tongue came out to lick said chops.

Not only was the mouth now fully animated, they also got a tongue!? And they were completely separated from each other!

What he had said didn't even register as all you let out was a "YOOOOOO!", pointing at Moon, turning back to Sun and pointing at him too. Well, this would definitely change things! Before Sun and Moon would have to wait for the lights to be with you, but now they could both be with you whenever they wanted, and...

Both had come really close to you, caging you between their metal bodies.

Ah.

------

"Well, this is a nice change of pace, hm?" you said, cast in their shadow and looking up at both of them.

"Oh, it sure is Dewdrop, but really, there's still more to the surprise!"

You would probably be more surprised if you weren't practically face to face with the rest of the surprise, though it was still quite baffling to you.

Two similarly sized bulged rubbed against you from both sides, and you would be forgiven for the sound you made out of pure confusion and lust.

"T-that's... they... are those what I think they are?" you managed to stutter out, and Sun yelled out a "ding ding ding, 100 points for our little superstar!", while Moon just chuckled.

"How about we go somewhere more comfortable and we can try out these new upgrades, hm?"

#sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #sun/moon x reader #fnaf #part 1 of 2 #nsft #my work

[hypertic]

Avatrice - neighbors AU

[and Beatrice has 2 kids]

Ava knocked on the door, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while she waited. Hearing the steps from the other side becoming louder with each passing second was almost enough for her to turn around to leave.

Almost, had it not been for the door opening right before she could run back to her apartment, revealing her neighbor greeting her with a small, polite smile.

Beatrice Xin.

Her next door neighbor that, though she’d moved in a couple of months after Ava, she knew almost nothing about.

She knew that she left too early in the morning and came back too late in the evening, but somehow managed to have enough time to take care of two little girls that, if Ava had to guess, were between five and two years old. She didn’t know much about the girls either; she assumed they were her daughters, even if Beatrice seemed far too young and far too busy to have kids, it was not her place to judge.

She also knew, from the few times they’d crossed paths, that Beatrice always managed to offer her a small, but genuine smile, despite how tired she seemed. If Ava was being honest, Beatrice smile was disarming, and she vividly remembers her legs going weak the first time she saw it.

That was another thing she knew: Beatrice was painfully attractive.

However, that was as far as Ava’s knowledge on Beatrice Xin extended, hence why she felt so awkward standing there.

“Hi.” Ava greeted shyly, already unable to stop her hands from fidgeting with a lose thread of her shirt. Beatrice kept her eyes on her; unreadable. “I’m Ava Silva, your neighbor from the other side of the hall.” In her head, Ava was thanking every deity she knew for giving her enough confidence to introduce herself without stuttering.

“I’m Beatrice Xin.” She offered her a hand for Ava to shake, who took it immediately, giving her a bright smile as she squeezed it gently. Beatrice smiled back, wider this time but still small, and Ava could do nothing but stare.

Beatrice let her, her own eyes scanning over her neighbor’s features to commit them to memory. Suddenly, she became aware that she was still holding Ava’s hand, the smaller girl’s grip loose around her own firm hand. She let go, maybe too quickly and too awkwardly, but Ava didn’t seem to care.

“Right so….,” Ava trailed off, her nerves getting the best of her. “There’s no way I can say this without sounding weird or stupid or straight up crazy and I completely understand if you just shut the door in my face-“ Beatrice’s amused yet slightly threatening eyebrow raise was enough to get Ava to stop her rambling and take a deep breath. “Can I borrow your kids?”

Any trace of amusement was gone as soon as Beatrice heard the word ‘kids’.

“Excuse me?” Ava took notice of her british accent and wondered how someone could grow more attractive by the second. She quickly pushed those thoughts aside, feeling herself grow smaller in front of Beatrice’s threatening eyebrow raise and her suddenly closed off demeanor.

Ava fought the chills crawling up her spine, suddenly aware of the small height difference in Beatrice’s favor that made her all the more scary. Still, she took another deep breath, desperate to at least get her neighbor to hear her explanation and not think she’s completely insane.

“I… I kinda told my ex that I couldn’t go out with him today and meet his new girlfriend because I have to babysit, when I really just don’t want to go because even if we ended on ‘good terms’ and we’re friends, it’s going to be so awkward and I’m not sure I’m ready to put myself through that but I-“ She cut herself short to catch her breath, giving Beatrice a sheepish smile.

“What do you need the kids for then?” Beatrice asked before she could continue. “You said no, so why do you need my kids?” her voice was stern and demanding, like a high school principal, her face unreadable as ever.

“Well,“ Ava sighed, preparing herself to blurt out the second half of her explanation. “He said they could come to say hi while I babysit, because he lives in another city and wanted to stop by, since they’re only here for the weekend and it’s the only time he’s available. I couldn’t backtrack with the babysitting lie, because that would make it too obvious that I don’t want to meet them so…”

Ava looked up from her fidgety hands to the woman in front of her, who stared back at her with what Ava thought -hoped- was maybe a small glint of amusement in her dark, expressionless eyes.

“I know it sounds insane but you’re the only person I know that has kids and they really won’t stay for long; 30 minutes at most.” Beatrice frowned, and Ava couldn’t believe she actually seemed to be thinking about it. “I swear I’ll take good care of them, please!” Ava pushed, ready to beg on her knees if she had to. “I’ll owe you anything! I can clean your entire apartment!, or take down your trash for as long as you live here.” She decided to finalized with her offers, and Beatrice let out an annoyed sigh.

“Are you really willing to go this far to save yourself the embarrassment?” Beatrice questioned, and Ava wasn’t sure if she was making fun of her or if she was genuinely curious.

“Yes!” Ava answered, too sure of herself. Beatrice rolled her eyes at the answer, but couldn’t hide the small smile making its way to her lips.

Ava felt a spark of hope grow in her chest at the reaction, and decided to give her the best puppy eyes she could muster.

God.

At that moment, Beatrice genuinely felt like she couldn’t say no. For some reason, this complete stranger that seemed to put all her faith in her, hoping that Beatrice was just as insane as she was and would aid her in her stupid lie, was actually managing to convince her.

Beatrice took her time to study the girl, who seemed just a couple of years younger than her and knew nothing about. Just by their first interaction, she could tell the girl was like an open book, all of her emotions easy to label just by taking a look into her eyes. She didn’t seem like a real threat and, if she truly wanted to kidnap or harm her children in any way, Beatrice didn’t think she would be to borrow them like they were a cup of flour.

“Fine.” Beatrice stated, and Ava let out a relieved yelp, jumping around to celebrate her small victory.

It could be good to get to know her neighbors anyways.

“Really?” Ava asked, buzzing with energy.

“Yes, but with one condition.” Ava became serious all of a sudden, ready to obey whatever this woman said as long as it would spare her the embarrassment of being caught in a lie. “You have come to our apartment, and I get to stay.” Beatrice stated firmly.

“What?” Ava frowned, slightly confused. “What’s the point of babysitting if their mom is here?”

“I can just stay in Oli’s room.” Beatrice answered, getting a puzzled look from Ava. “The baby.” She clarified, regretting her decision already.

“Ok, yeah. Sounds fair.“ Ava nodded, and for the first time since she got there, she caught a glimpse of Beatrice’s apartment.

Unlike hers, it was spotless, furnished with simple furniture in white and grayish tones. Beatrice gestured for her to come in, allowing Ava a full few of the apartment. Despite most of it being grey and white, the place felt warm and homey, with the evening sunlight shining through the windows and a couple of scattered, colorful toys in the fluffy grey rug of the living room.

“When is your ex coming?”

“Shit.” Ava muttered, as she checked the time on her phone.

“Language.” Beatrice scolded, and Ava had to bite her tongue to keep herself from giggling.

“Sorry. He said they’ll be here in 20 minutes.” She answered sheepishly.

“That’s not a lot of time.” For some reason, Beatrice seemed to be worried about her, even if she clearly disapproved of the entire plan. “You should hurry and get my kid to like you if you want this to work.” Ava was momentarily shocked at how invested Beatrice sounded, but didn’t hesitate to follow her to the kitchen.

“Willow.” Beatrice called as they entered, and Ava was met by wide brown eyes staring at her with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

The little girl stood up, her pigtails swaying from side to side as she ran to meet them at the door, her bangs slightly disheveled. Her hair was a lot darker than Beatrice’s and her skin paler, but otherwise they looked quite alike.

“This is Ava, our neighbor.” Beatrice introduced, and Willow extended a hand for her to shake, just like her mother. Ava shook it gently, giving the girl a smile as she introduced herself.

“I’m Willow!” She replied with excitement that Ava didn’t hesitate to mirror.

“It’s such a pretty name! What were you doing there, Willow?” Ava said pointing at the kitchen table, and after some hesitation the girl dragged her by the hand she was still holding to show her.

“I was coloring the animal book auntie Cam got me.” She sat back down, and Ava stood next to her, appreciating Willow’s attempt at staying within the lines.

“Willow, “ Beatrice voice echoed from behind the pair, making them both turn around with wide, attentive eyes. “Would you like Ava to play with you for a little while?” The young girl furrowed her eyebrows, trying to push her bangs aside.

“Why?” She asked innocently. Beatrice knelt down in front of her daughter, fixing her messy bangs for her.

“Well, since Ava lives next door, I thought it would be nice if you get to know her, don’t you think?” Willow nodded, because everything her mom said made sense; most of the time. Beatrice gave her a smile and gestured for Ava to sit on the chair next to Willow, while she sat in the one across from them.

Though the little girl was quite shy and closed off at first, taking hesitant glances up to her mom after she spoke, it didn’t take long for her to warm up to Ava. She always thought it was a lot easier to talk to children rather than adults, and really enjoyed taking part on their own little world.

“You’re doing it wrong!” Willow giggled as Ava colored outside of the drawing instead of inside, which was absolutely on purpose, and not because she got distracted by her small talk with Willow.

Ava felt her phone buzz, and typed a quick reply to JC before making gestures to Beatrice that she needed to go.

“Willow,” Beatrice spoke, gentle as ever but still commanding all of the little girl’s attention. “Would you like to help Ava with a game?” Willows eyes went wide at the mention of a game, going from her mother to Ava as she nodded excitedly.

“What is it?”

“Ava is playing pretend with a couple of friends, and they’re coming to see her.” The girls mouth formed an ‘o’ that Ava couldn’t help but mirror. “She’s pretending to be taking care of you while I’m gone.”

“But… you’re here.” Willow frowned, her eyes going from Ava to Beatrice in search of an answer.

“That’s why we are pretending I’m not here.” Beatrice explained patiently.

“So you’re in the game too?” Beatrice nodded, and Willow copied her, seeming to understand. “What does the winner get?” She asked, a confident smile on her face.

“Do you like waffles?” Ava asked, and if she noticed the angry look Beatrice shot her, she chose to ignore it. Willow let out a happy yelp, standing from her chair and jumping up and down.

“Willow,” Beatrice called, and the girl jumped all the way to her. “Remember, to win the game, you have to stay with Ava and her friends, and pretend I’m not here, capisce?”

“Capisce.” The little girl replied, making a motion of taking off a hat.

Before Ava could comment on their vocabulary they heard the door bell ring, and Ava felt her heart shoot up to her throat. Beatrice just gave her a reassuring nod before disappearing into the small hallway.

“Let the games begin.” Ava said to Willow solemnly after hearing the door of the room click.

###

The game lasted a little over 20 minutes, seeing that JC had made a dinner reservation for them and was really just stopping by.

It was nice to see him, Ava admitted, even if it was awkward at first, the conversation managed to flow nicely just like before they dated. She even managed to make small talk with his new girlfriend, who was really sweet and allowed their conversation to go uninterrupted by engaging with Willow and her Lego tower.

As soon as the door behind them closed, Ava let out a sigh of relief, realizing it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. It was nice, actually, and it gave her a weird sense of closure to see JC after so long and meet as friends.

“I win!” Willow chanted, jumping through the living room as Beatrice came out of the room, holding Olivia in her arms.

Ava gave Willow a triumphant high five and a bright grin to Beatrice, who seemed both surprised and relieved that it’d actually worked.

“You didn’t have to bribe her you know?” Beatrice whispered, seeing the little girl run to the kitchen in anticipation of her prize.

“I kinda did.” Ava giggled, cooing at the baby in Beatrice’s arms. “I had to bribe you too.” She added with a wink.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, walking ahead of Ava to hide the light blush creeping up her cheeks.

“You don’t have to do anything, by the way.” Beatrice said, after putting Olivia down on her chair. She opened the fridge to take out the ingredients for the waffles, while Willow searched for the largest pot she could find to make the mix. “You just… owe me one?” Beatrice said tentatively, feeling her heart warm at the sight of Ava’s bright smile.

So, Beatrice found herself spending the rest of the evening with this stranger, Ava, and her old waffle maker, far more entertained than she’ll ever admit.

Though she scolded Ava more than she ever did her own child —for not measuring the ingredients, for mixing the batter so energetically it got everywhere, including Beatrice’s shirt, among other things— she couldn’t help but smile all the same, seeing Willow laugh carelessly and enjoy her tower of waffles covered in syrup.

After Olivia had eaten all of the broccoli mush that wasn’t on her clothes, and Willow had long forgotten her waffles and devoted herself to watching her favorite show in the living room, Ava took it as her cue to leave.

Beatrice couldn’t hide her surprise when she came back from putting Olivia to bed, and found the kitchen as spotless as it had been.

“What? It was as only fair I cleaned up my own mess.” Ava said with a teasing smile.

“Thank you.” Beatrice said with the widest smile Ava had seen from her.

It was easy to smile around Ava, Beatrice noticed.

“Thank you.” Ava said, taking a step forward. “You really saved me from a lot of…”

“Explaining? Questions? Embarrassment?” Beatrice offered, and Ava gave her a shy nod, but her smile never seemed to leave her. Not like Beatrice wanted to.

“Yeah… thanks.” Ava said as she walked out the kitchen, waffle maker held firmly between her hands.

“Willow, say bye to Ava.” Beatrice called once they reached the door and, despite how entranced the little girl seemed by the colorful cartoons in front of her, she ran up to Ava and almost tackled her with a hug. Gently, Ava wrapped her arms around the little girl who mumbled something unintelligible.

“Can Ava come back to play?” Willow asked Beatrice after separating herself from Ava, her tiny hand still clutching Ava’s shirt.

“You should ask her, Lou.” Beatrice placed a gentle hand on the girls hair, staring down at her with so much love Ava felt her heart melt.

“Can you come back to play?” Willow asked her, lightly pulling Ava’s shirt.

“Of course!” Ava promised, shooting an anxious look at Beatrice to confirm she was actually ok with that that. “I’ll see you around, ok?” She said, messing up the little girl’s hair with endearment.

“Bye!” Willow waved, and Ava mirror her, but aimed her wave at the girl’s mother instead.

“Bye, Ava.” Beatrice said, offering her a final, polite smile before closing the door.

Ava let out a sigh, her chest filled with warmth and contempt and hope of seeing Beatrice, and her kids, again.

#part 1 of 2 #probably #I would post it on ao3 but #idk what happens after part 2 please enlighten me #part 2 soon I swear #Beatrice needs Ava’s help this time #please if you read this far lmk if there’s anything you want to see #PLEEK #this was an old idea for another fic #I swear the queen quest au is #somewhere #avatrice #warrior nun #wlw #writing #ficlet #ava silva #sister beatrice #avatrice au

[motherfactorin-pi-face]

In which I speak a bit more on (NEO) TWEWY, Shinjuku's Reapers, and JP workplaces

So to add on a little bit more to some thoughts I had in relation to Challenges in Localization And Cultural Nuance and mageknight14's good analysis on Shoka Not Having Had The Best Family Life, both of which touch on Japanese businesses and how they're run, I'd like to expound a bit more on how the whole Shinjuku Reaper situation really is a series of two separate (and yet, as it turns out, somewhat related) cultural contexts. One of these is that Shinjuku, particularly Kabuchi-cho (which if/when we see the strongly hinted Shinjuku Interquel I fully expect to see that localized as "Kabuki Backstreets" or "Kabuki Alley" or something similar), has had a historical rep as a "red-light" district, and as a fairly major spot for Yakuza and similar organized crime activity. (And there are entire franchises that focus on THIS aspect of Shinjuku, as well.) The other context, which is probably not as familiar to Americans (who are more likely to have played one of the Yakuza games), is that Shinjuku is one of the areas that is a major business hub within Tokyo metro proper. (Square Enix actually moved their headquarters to Shinjuku around 2012 or so after having moved from Yayoi--a part of Shibuya we've never seen in a TWEWY game--and is ironically moving back to Shibuya next year in the Sakuragaoka area just south of Mark City.) And as it turns out, the Shinjuku Reapers and their situation are a MASSIVE parody of how Japanese businesses are run (particularly how certain trends culturally can result in a business--or a Game--becoming highly dysfunctional). So. Japanese businesses have (in comparison to US businesses) a lot of stratification and (although this is changing somewhat) there's still kind of the ideal that if you get into an actual business (versus, say, working at the Lawson or the Family Mart or 7-Eleven) where you're wearing a suit and tie, you're essentially set for Life as long as you don't rock the boat. Historically, this even extended to your prospects of a Forever Job being tied to what college and even what high school you attended (hence why there has been such an incredible pressure with kids being sent to cram schools to get into a good high school, and then get into a good college, as good employers tended to hire directly out of specific colleges). And there's not really the Layoff Culture there is in the US, and generally the main reason someone leaves a business in Japan involves retirement, involves (especially in creative fields) some irreconcilable differences with the board of directors, or some kind of a Scandal where one has seriously hecked up and been Removed. (Again, this is changing some, especially for younger folks, and in part the NEET culture (Not in Education, Employment or Training) is kind of a rebellion against this social pressure, but right now I'm focusing on how typical businesses are run once you manage to get into a suit-and-tie occupation in Japan.) So once you do get IN a company, there's a LOT of societal pressure to really devote everything to company success--not just in terms of working late/working OT, but even societal obligations of going to Company Dinners where you go drinking with your boss/supervisor, social events, morning exercise with the company, etc. that honestly has had a history of lending itself to abuse (karoshi, or literally working yourself to death, IS a phenomena in Japan to the point there have been workplace laws to try to reduce the abuse). Aggretsuko is actually another bit of popular media that explicitly calls out a lot of the more abusive practices like power harassment and the demands a company places on workers, etc. Cells At Work! Code BLACK actually depicts someone dying of an abusive workplace...as the stereotypical abusive "black company", the Japanese slang term for a particularly abusive corporate sweatshop.

#neo twewy #ntwewy #neo: the world ends with you #shinjuku reapers #cultural analysis #part 1 of 2

[phlegmykins]

Im putting up my old comics here because something went wrong with my images on AO3, oops

Part 1 / Part 2

#homestuck #davekat #comic #part 1 of 2

[raytorotits]

bullets era ray toro is like I would have let you infodump to me forever and ever and ordered us one strawberry milkshake with two straws and held hands with you the whole walk home

#tag.txt #part 1 of 2

[tarabyte3]

Liam + Longing (pt 1)

Andy Serkis as Liam Black, The Accused (2010)

Link to part 2

#andy serkis #liam black #liam and longing #part 1 of 2 #the accused (2010) #the accused #gifs #my gifs #i need him biblically #i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism #yeah he did all that stuff #but i can fix him

[that-ari-blogger]

Chekhov's Gattling Gun, Part 1

Like a boat, lost at sea With no sails, not a breeze. I am drifting, cold waters No stars to be seen

Life isn't simple. You can't measure every moment in history on a scale of a to b. Life is like a collage, made from disparate materials stuck together, some organised, some more wild. But all of them collaborating into the great picture that is a single human being and their lived experience. This is true for everyone around you, and since no artwork is identical, no person can ever live the same way as anyone else.

Stories work in a similar fashion, with different threads getting tangled and twisted until, with one final pull, the full might of the tapestry is revealed, and the audience can marvel at the beauty, or reminisce about how they watched it come together.

Stray Gods: The Role Playing Musical is a fantastically complex and moving story, and two of the final songs, Adrift Reprise and The Trial serve as a climax in momentum, plot, and theme. These are the moments when the tapestry is revealed.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Adrift Reprise needs to be understood in the context of its namesake, the first song in the musical, and in the context of, well, it's context. This sits just before the climax of the musical, just before everything comes to a head, and we get this quiet before the storm. And this is also the moment after our conversation with Freddie (you know the one). So, you bet I'm going to talk about that.

Let me start with the imagery, the stage. This is a bit of a meta metaphor, this is a game, literally a story, and the imagery references that. But what I find interesting is the reason why.

Grace has spent the entire musical detached from reality, directionless, unable to pin down. There's a reason you can make any choice for her and it won't feel out of character. She's a blank slate, emotionally and motivationally. The only thing that can get her to do something is a threat of death.

And then we get here, Grace sits upon a stage. But now she has purpose. Now she has something to look forwards to after the trial. This is a Grace that is making up her mind. So, the story acknowledges it's superficiality at the start, when Grace is the most detached, and now, when she is feeling the most real.

This also serves to contrast her with an earlier version of herself. I keep saying that this is a story about change, and here we are presented with how much Grace has changed over the course of the musical.

And despite you not actually getting to choose anything in this song, you feel like this is the culmination of all of your choices up to this point.

Specifically, I am talking about the choice whether or not to bring Freddie back from the dead. I did, on my first playthrough, so I was met with this very quiet version of the song as Grace and I both reflected on what we had just done. There is a noticeable air of uncertainty, and the resolution isn't "I did the right thing", but "I did what I did, now I have to deal with that".

However, there is another path you can take to get to this song.

If you let Freddie go, you get backup music. And you get shown a different change between now and the beginning. Slightly.

I actually think Grace has changed more as a mortal than as a muse. If that makes sense. As a mortal, she owns up to her decisions, and resolves herself. She is alone for now, but she knows she has people to rely on. But as a muse, I think she has definitely changed, although not quite as much. Grace still feels alone, and still has to be brought from that by Calliope. I think that if Freddie stays dead, Grace regresses to the point she began the story in, and has to be given that final boost externally.

The change is different between the two, I simply prefer the former option because I, personally, find it more interesting.

"In your heart, we remain You do not sail in vain"

All preferences aside, however, this is a cool line. All of the people that Grace has changed have changed her in return. There's another musical with a similar sentiment in it.

I've heard it said That people come into our lives for a reason Bringing something we must learn And we are led To those who help us most to grow If we let them And we help them in return

This is from Wicked, and stay tuned for some analysis of that in the future. But for now, it is the meaning that is important. We grow the most if we accept the help, and we give it back when it's needed. Humans are a communal species, we stay static if left to our own devices, or we spiral.

The question then becomes this: What do you want to do now? How do you want to do this?

If you bring back Freddie, you need to keep her alive through the trial, and if you don't, well now you have to live on in her name. Either way, you need to make a decision.

There is no inertia in the ocean.

(There is a Part 2 going up at the same time as this that will discuss The Trial)

Previous - Next

#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #character analysis #what's so special about...? #greek mythology #stray gods #stray gods the musical #stray gods spoilers #stray gods the roleplaying musical #stray gods grace #grace #greddie #stray gods calliope #stray gods adrift #part 1 of 2

[rockingrobin69]

Downward, upward, anywhere - pt. 1

Take a deep breath… hold it… good.

Smith cornered him just outside the studio. “Draco! Hey, Draco!” panting a bit, all flushed with a stupid grin smeared on his face.

“Zacharias,” Draco tipped his chin the tiniest amount.

“I didn’t know you do yoga now!”

“Hmm?” staring at his own fingernails. When that didn’t work, “Yes, well. They say exercise is,” stopped there with a sigh, tired and over-warmed and still annoyingly thinking about—argh. He just needed some water and a few moments of quiet. Not the super-hot instructor’s hands on his hips again, fixing his position.

“—and that’s really difficult, of course,” Smith was droning on, self-satisfied smile and his chest puffing wider with every second. “So, what do you think?”

Draco blinked, post-yoga crabby already. “What?”

“About, erm, Saturday?”

“What?” the look on his face made Smith flinch. “Sorry, I—what about Saturday?”

He gulped a bit before saying, with a lot less bravado, “The party? This Saturday. Everyone’s going, so, I wondered if maybe you’d,” wild hand gestures completed the question for him.

“Oh,” Draco said, then, “oh, you… right. I don’t think I’m available. Sorry.”

Smith didn’t look as crushed as he possibly should be. “Can I get your number? In case you change your mind.”

“Ah,” Draco, couldn’t, erm, think of an excuse fast enough, mind sluggish from all the sweat and the hot-fucking-instructor’s hands, big and warm and perfect on his waist, and, “what? Oh. Why don’t you give me your number, that way I can,” and pretended to write down whatever Smith was saying. Then nodded him along, which took ages, leaving Draco finally, blessedly alone. The sun had set, streetlights buzzing on in too-bright-white.

As if on cue, Pansy, Blaise and Greg all walked out, towel-wrapped shoulders and grinning. “Well well well,” Pansy said first, and Blaise even smacked Draco’s bum with said towel.

“Looks like our boy is finally getting some action,” Greg, the traitor.

“What? No!”

“He is so dreamy,” Blaise blinked his eyelashes faux-coyly. “Oh, Zacharias!”

Draco made a truly inelegant sound, rolled his eyes, and started walking away without looking at his so called ‘friends’. “Took your sweet time,” to Pansy, who appeared at his shoulder, still (infuriatingly) grinning.

“I’d never get in the way of true love,” Pansy said solemnly, and Draco remembered he hated her. “Also, had to stay to do a little snooping on our new instructor.”

Maybe didn’t so much hate as adored her. “And?” biting his own tongue in the rush.

“His name’s Harry, he’s our age, and he’s not married.”

“That’s not a lot to go on,” Draco frowned, jumped when Blaise clapped his shoulder.

“Cheer up, darling. We also learned something very important. You’ll never believe who’s his good mate who convinced him to move down here.”

“Who?”

Blaise’s smirk reflected in Pansy’s face, and, looking behind his shoulder, also in Greg’s. “Loony Lovegood.”

Draco stopped still. “Fuck me.”

“Yes, love, that’s the general objective,” with another pat on his back, and his friends already turning towards their normal café, leaving him nauseous and a little panicky on the pavement, under the harsh street light.

*

In… and out.

Loo-na Lovegood lived with a brutish redhead in a tiny flat entirely crammed with plants. Draco had been exactly twice: once, for the house-warming, and the second for their cat’s birthday. To be fair, it was a nice cat. Fluffy and vicious with an inexplicable affection for socks and a grand tail. Draco thought the cat at least showed a bit of the family pride Loony all but chucked out the window. Of course, back then, he was still speaking to his father, and was not quite the pariah he’d turned himself into nowadays.

She answered his call, still, surprisingly or perhaps not, and was apparently delighted to invite him over for tea.

“Jasmine or charcoal?”

Draco blinked. “Ah, jasmine would be lovely, thank you.” Sitting down delicately on the piece of plastic. “So you’re, ah, remodelling?”

“What? oh, no. It’s a really funny story. Gin and I were going to make a present for Bartholomeo and then he—you know how he’s like, with the socks, and there were prints all over the flat and I thought it was grand but lacked a little something so, what about kombucha?”

“Pardon?”

Luna turned back from the cupboard. “I forgot we had kombucha! Harry swears by it.”

Draco’s heart went seventy times faster. “Harry?” he asked, entirely innocently.

“Yeah, you remember my friend, well you’ve never met him but do you remember he has glasses and lovely black hair and he loves kombucha and he does acro with his dog and it’s the most wonderful thing!”

Trying to unpack the rather-a-lot: “Wait, he’s—doing what with his dog?”

“Acro-yoga? His dog’s adorable. His name is Snuffles and he’s fifteen years old and the sweetest thing in the whole entire world. You have to watch the video!”

“There’s a video?” in what he hoped wasn’t a completely embarrassing tone.

“Here, let me show you. Oh, watch the paint, we wouldn’t want to get your nice trousers all… hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Hmm. Nothing. Just something that Harry… the video! Oh, Draco, you won’t even believe it, here we go.”

Draco left the flat that day with three revelations:

Maybe he did sort of like dogs after all.

Harry Potter wasn’t entirely human. Couldn’t be, looking like that, smiling like that.

Loony Lovegood makes one hell of a jasmine tea.  

Then, on the bus and a rushed phone call later:

4. Harry Potter was going to be in Smith's party on Saturday.

(For flufftober day 30. Hopefully, a sequel to this will be posted tomorrow! Find the soft AO3 collection here).

#drarry fic #934 words #part 1 of 2 #muggle au #harry as the mysterious yoga instructor #draco as the pining sweaty yoga student #supportive friends #flufftober2023 #prompt: Self-Worth / Self- Outdoor Event Love #rockingrobin69