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concussed-to-pieces · 1 year

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The Chance And The Change; Part Nine

Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Pairing: Reformed Villain!Mirio/AFAB Reformed Shie Hassaikai!Reader/Tamaki Amajiki

Rating: Holy shit M.

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to our last installment. I gotta' say, I am never writing in these little nub style chunks AGAIN. Enjoy!

Tag List: @hijackser @nonstop-haikyuu @zombiexbody @buttons-beads-lace @moonchhu @swift-omg-no @ectoplasmictoast @tartimaar-bloggeth @plaguedoctorsnake

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains depictions of emotional duress. Stay safe!]

It had been over a month since the incident with Toga, after which Sir Nighteye advised that you, Mirio and Tamaki should stay in a secure location while the League's intentions were under investigation.

"They knew Tamaki was unfamiliar with you, which means that they've been hunting for a way into that apartment for quite a while." The Pro Hero had said, giving Mirio a stern look. Mirio had quailed beneath his mentor's stare and that was the end of the conversation; the three of you all packed up and escorted to a safe house within three hours of the prior discussion.

Oh certainly, the safe house wasn't bad. A little more lavish than you were used to, what with the in-home gym setup and the food delivery schedule. What was going to do you in was the boredom; despite your employer's reluctant allowance permitting you to work from home, you were quick to run out of daily tasks.

At least you weren't the only one suffering from cabin fever. Both Mirio and Tamaki's injuries had healed up seamlessly over the weeks and the two of them were becoming more and more restless with every passing day.

"I hate just sitting around like this." Mirio finally complained one bright morning. "It's almost Christmas, we should be out there shopping and keeping people safe!"

"Nothing in between?" You asked wryly, sorting through the muted shades of cardstock that you had discovered in a closet. "Which two colors do you want?"

"Oo, red and blue!" Mirio exclaimed, deflating slightly when the only option was a faint cranberry and a blue so light it was nearly white. Tamaki, still slowly working through his morning coffee, silently accepted the faded gold and lavender sheets that Mirio scooted over to him.

Brandishing a pair of scissors, you announced, "we are making decorations today. We only have two pairs of scissors, though. And one roll of tape. So behave yourselves."

Tamaki perked up almost immediately, snagging the second pair of scissors before Mirio could make a move for them. "Paper chain." He mumbled.

"Good call. I'll fold us some stars!" Mirio then grinned at you across the table, holding out his hand. "Can I borrow those scissors, Sunshine?"

…

"Mirio wants to keep people safe," Tamaki said softly later that afternoon, his fingers absently stroking through the sleeping Mirio's hair. You could hardly complain though, as his other hand was busy giving your own scalp a massage.

"I've noticed." You murmured in reply. Poor Mirio would often crash late in the afternoon, his body too used to a schedule that started before sunrise, which allowed you and Tamaki to become accustomed to the quieter evenings. A holiday film played on your work laptop, providing some gentle background noise to punctuate Tamaki's extended pauses. You had come to mind them less and less, knowing that he was always thinking.

"Even in middle school…always. Was a shock to everyone when he didn't graduate, but I guess that's got something to do with what…happened. Back then." Tamaki had a far-away look in his eyes when you gave him a curious glance.

"'Back then'?"

"Something happened towards the end of senior year. Not sure what. He stopped coming to school one day and that was it." Tamaki sighed heavily. "He won't talk about it."

You chewed on your lip, thinking back. You had always been so hellbent on keeping people at arm's length during your time in the Hassaikai, you had never taken an opportunity to really get to know Mirio. And now, it almost felt like it was…too late, in a weird way.

Just then Mirio groaned, the sleeping man stretching and shifting his weight. Tamaki grimaced, trying to adjust. "He's like a pitbull," he complained in an undertone. "His head is so heavy."

You weren't buying it though, teasing, "a burden you're more than happy to bear, I'm sure." Tamaki flushed, glaring at the wall instead of looking at you.

After what had occurred with the League Of Villains, you had easily picked up on more and more instances of Mirio and Tamaki dancing around one another. A look here, a soft smile there…it would have been cute if it wasn't so damn sad. And sure, you were a teeny tiny bit jealous of Tamaki, but not nearly enough to attempt to insert yourself or disrupt their…non-relationship? Situationship. The teasing you did do was lighthearted enough to be easily dismissed; you didn't want them thinking you were some stiff who didn't approve!

Tamaki's hand was abruptly resting on your own, the young man giving it a gentle squeeze. When you glanced up again, he was actually looking at you, in a way that seemed…thoughtful? Like he was mulling over a problem mentally, trying to suss out a solution.

"What's up?" You whispered.

Tamaki just shook his head, returning his attention to that incredibly interesting section of wall.

…

It was greedy.

What he wanted could only be labeled as such in the chiefest sense. Two partners, two individuals, when anyone should be more than content with one! There was no logical way that--he couldn't even ask Tamaki when he had been younger and now you too?! What was wrong with him? Everything in his body was confused, jumbled, screaming about what he didn't deserve and shouldn't have but could have and wanted wanted wanted, wanted so much that it ached.

Togata Mirio was a man of great internal conflict, constantly warring with himself over (what he would label) ridiculous thoughts. The audacity of even being able to rationalize two potential partners had him in absolute torment. Wasn't that cheating? Wasn't it doomed from the start? If he was attracted to two people he must actually not want either, right? But…

But what if he could love both of you?

What if, what if, he could somehow manage to ask both of you to stay with him. Let me protect you, let me help you.

It was in his nature to want to protect. He had shoved the desire down during his time with the Hassaikai, knowing it would do him no good in those less than stellar ranks. Nighteye had seen fit to foster the protective traits in him though, encouraging Mirio to always consider the fallout from his actions.

What if someone is injured from your carelessness, Mirio? One wrong move, and innocent people die.

Protective actions had consequences, just the same as those morally-gray endeavors he had carried out while with Chisaki. The fallout from this particular foray, while maybe not physically devastating, would absolutely destroy him mentally.

But the thinking was driving him insane! What if, taunting him as he watched you laugh at whatever Tamaki was showing you on his phone, as Tamaki then turned to show him the same funny clip. Instead of looking at the screen though, Mirio was captivated by the small grin on Tamaki's face.

Always with this, always zoning out while Tamaki was trying to talk to him or while you were working on your daily assignments and frowning cutely at your computer. It was extremely exasperating and Mirio found himself holing up in the gym more and more. Once Tamaki got his late morning routines out of the way the space was free and clear, so it was here that the blond man ended up spending the majority of his waking hours.

This, however, led to him being absolutely exhausted by the time four thirty rolled around, which was how he had ended up in this predicament: Tamaki's fingers carding carefully through his ungelled hair, your hands wrapped around his scarred forearm while you and Tamaki carried on a whispered conversation over his head.

It was terrifyingly gentle, comforting even. But all Mirio could think of was that it would all come crashing down soon enough.

…

"Okay so I need your help." All in a rush, because you needed to get the words out before you lost your nerve.

Tamaki blinked at you over his mug.

"You don't have to say anything, just listen." You bargained, which garnered you a ponderous nod. "And you can totally ignore this, so don't feel bad."

"Concerning." Tamaki pointed out.

"I know, man, believe me." You sucked in another breath, your nerve about ready to abandon you. "I like you and Mirio. I like being around you and Mirio. I'm happy with this arrangement. B-But I…I feel like I might be getting in the way of your uh. Whatever it is that you guys have."

"We don't-"

"Tamaki please, I'm dumb, not blind. You guys…look, the both of you have great chemistry and it would be a shame for you to not at least try, right?"

A heavy silence settled into the space between the two of you. When Tamaki finally spoke up, his voice was somehow less confident than usual.

"I-I don't know if Mirio…I don't know if he likes guys." He admitted softly, his eyes on the table.

"He may not like guys, but he sure as hell likes you."

"No." Tamaki shook his head, a wistful little smile softening his pensive face. "He likes you. I've seen him look at you, the way he laughs, the way he-"

You interrupted, "The way he lights up when you're around? The way he falls asleep on your lap, the way he makes your coffee and the way he…" Tamaki was blatantly staring at you, and as you stared back at him, things slid together in your mind. "Oh. Shit."

"Oh, shit." Tamaki breathed.

…

The two of you had been avoiding him for three days now. It was Christmas Eve and Mirio was sitting on the weight bench in the gym, fidgeting anxiously. Nothing that he could do seemed to be able to help him shake the feeling of foreboding that hung over him like a dark cloud. All the energy he had spent just left him with lactic acid buildup and more questions than answers.

Treadmill, he decided, getting to his feet.

The treadmill was nice and repetitive. If that didn't shut off his brain, nothing would. Just the treadmill, the miles slowly ticking away, not thinking about you or Tamaki or you and Tamaki or–

With a frustrated growl Mirio flipped the switch and stepped back off the machine. Nothing is working, he realized, the frisson of fear that ran down his spine thoroughly unwelcome. Nothing.

Maybe he could just casually broach the subject? Granted, the idea made his stomach clench with anxiety but if that was his only alternative to this silent torment, he might take his chances.

What if you and Tamaki had decided you wanted to become…more? He had seen the way Tamaki looked at you, the way his piercing eyes softened when he thought no one was watching. Mirio wasn't jealous, not exactly anyhow. If he had to actually label it, he would say what he was feeling was sadness. Regret, even. But if you and Tamaki were happy with each other, that's what was important.

Right?

Mirio shook his head at himself, heading to his room to shower.

…

"Okay so, where do you want your bow?" You asked Tamaki, gesturing high and then low. "Do you want to be sweet and put it on your head, or do you want him to know you'd like to be railed so you put it on your-"

"Why would you say that?!" Tamaki sputtered, hiding his red face in his hands. You certainly were confident! He on the other hand was a massive ball of nerves. He wasn't sure if this plan of yours would work and the waiting was driving him insane.

"Listen you can be shy but you still get to voice your needs and wants here." You reasoned pragmatically, sticking a large bow to the top of his head. "We don't know how he'll react, of course, and this may not be the best course of action, but we might as well rip this bandaid off."

"W-We've been thinking for days now and this is all we could come up with. If we think longer, it'll just never happen." And what an awful thought that was, never knowing for sure. That would almost certainly feel far worse than the momentary embarrassment Tamaki was enduring while you fussed over him.

"I also want you to know," you murmured as you straightened his collar, "that even if it is just you that he wants, I'll still like you."

"Really?"

"Of course! You're kind and sweet, and you take good care of Mirio. He couldn't ask for a better partner, trust me."

His face was going to catch fire. All Tamaki could do was mumble a thank you and try to maintain some semblance of composure. "When should we…?"

"He's in the shower now, so we'll surprise him once he gets out." You smiled up at Tamaki as he carefully placed your bow on the top of your head. "Everything is going to be okay."

…

Mirio stared at himself in the steam-fogged mirror, his visage warped and unfamiliar. It's fine, he told himself sternly. Totally fine.

Maybe you and Tamaki were…

Mirio crushed that thought before it could fully form, shoving away the mental image of Tamaki arching over you, you gifting him with a soft moan, fingernails raking down his back--stop, idiot, stop it. You're just going to hurt your own feelings.

He needed to shake this off. It was probably just a combination of cabin fever and trauma bonding. That's it.

Mirio wrenched open the bathroom door, his mood thoroughly ruined by his runaway imagination. However, everything came to a grinding halt once he entered his bedroom.

Why were you and Tamaki on his bed? Why were you and Tamaki on his bed?! Mirio blinked at the sight in front of him, baffled and wary.

After a few seconds of awkward staring, you gave Tamaki a gentle nudge with your elbow. "Go ahead, Tama."

Tamaki jumped a little, stammering nonsense before he seemed to get a hold of himself. "I-I-I…h-hi Mirio. Um, happy h-holidays." He managed to squeak out, staring at the floor. His fingers worried the hem of his loose sweater, over and under the fabric again and again.

"Happy…holidays." Mirio replied slowly, shooting you a quizzical glance. You, it seemed, were focused on a fascinating bit of carpet. "What's going on, guys? You're both acting kind of strange." He asked bluntly, noting the way Tamaki winced at the question.

"Do you like me?" The black-haired man suddenly blurted out, slapping a hand over his mouth immediately after. Mirio was stunned silent, just staring at his violently-flushing roommate. "W-Well?" Tamaki mumbled around his hand.

"I…well yeah, of course!" Mirio did his best to try for his usual cheery affect, but judging from your reaction clearly neither you nor Tamaki were having any of it. "Of course, Tama." Mirio repeated, a bit softer this time.

"Do you like me?" You asked it this time, and Togata couldn't miss the way your fingers entwined with Tamaki's.

"Sunshine, we went through hell together." Not that you needed reminding! "Yes, I like you."

"He likes both of us, Tamaki." You sounded…relieved? Happy? Excited? Tamaki for his part looked more elated than Mirio had ever seen, almost tripping over himself as he got up.

"S-So you-!" The black-haired man began, grabbing Mirio's hands.

"I…?" Mirio prompted while Tamaki just stood there, shuffling back and forth in place. "I what?"

"Like me. L-Like…us." Tamaki explained haltingly. "We like you too."

"Guys, I don't know if I get whatever is going on here." Mirio murmured, his heart starting to pound in his chest. There's no way.

"We're your presents!" You chirped from his side, and that was when he noticed the bows clinging to your and Tamaki's heads. "If you want us, that is."

If you want us.

Holy shit it's happening.

"I…I do." Mirio whispered. "I…really? Both of you…and me?"

Tamaki was the one who said it this time, "if you'll have us," his hands trembling in Mirio's grip.

Mirio wrapped his friend, roommate, something more in a hug, feeling the heavy sigh Tamaki released against his chest. After a moment, Tamaki ushered you into the embrace. The three of you just held each other silently, then Mirio bumped his forehead into your own.

"If you'll both have me, I think I'd like that." He paused, feeling the mischievous smirk blooming on his face. "I know it's not Christmas yet, but do you guys mind if I…" He plucked the bow off of Tamaki's head. "...unwrap my presents a little early?"

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theindiegamesautistic · 3 months

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A Short hike

probably spoiler free (I did my best, but no guarantees)

An impulsive lockdown purchase that I have yet to regret.

The idea is that you are a bird (I know, already brilliant) and you must climb to the top of hawk peak to get phone signal, so you can receive an important phonecall.

There's loads of other little guys (various creatures) to speak to with side quests and problems for you. Some of them just want a chat and they have some wonderful bits of life advice (I'm slightly joking, but some of its funny)

it claims to be 90 minutes of gameplay, and maybe, if someone with neurotypical level focusing skills made extra sure to stick to only the main quest with maximum efficiency, they could potentially complete it in a time close to that. I think I took about 4hrs to get to the top of hawk peak, then there's plenty left to do.

Personally, I don't think I've "completed" it. The boats update added more things to find and I know I've not found every golden feather yet. It's open world and there's enough going on that you can find many hours of activities, including toast!

sensory experience:

(this is based on my experience of it, so there's a chance I've missed bits)

It is in autumn colours, mostly muted, with some bright reds and greens (as shown in the picture above)

it has music that changes as the environment/circumstances change and feels like it progresses as you progress.

There are also background sounds as you interact with the environment (fires crackling, the boats engine, wind) and these, when playing with headphones, have a 3D effect (i.e. if the fire is on your characters left, you will hear the crackling on your left)

You can fly/dive with quite significant speed, causing the scenery to move fast rapidly, which made me a little dizzy, but it is difficult to create this situation by accident and it is not a required part of the game.

There is also a side of the island that is constantly experiencing thunder storms. It wasn't loud or unexpected enough to make me jump and there's no strobing, but it was definitely noticeable.

emotional experience:

Your character is unable to die and will not miss the phone call if you take a long time to get up hawk peak, which for me, lowers the stress.

Around the area with the thunderstorm, there is a small graveyard, but the style of the graphics means there's no names or any other details visible.

There are no deaths in the game.

The topic of the phonecall is revealed to be important to your character, and I believe it's implied that they are nervous about it, but you don't get more details until later.

Overall, it's fairly emotionally light and all characters are broadly friendly (some are a little blunt when they run out of things to say and want to get on with their task, but aren't we all)

Did I find it accessible?

(this is specific to me and what I find makes a game accessible, but it might be useful to people with similar access needs)

easy of learning controls: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

I found the controls intuitive and simple. Information is given by characters in the game, which means you can start immediately, however I do wish there was somewhere all the controls where written that I could refer back to without having to end the game (there might be, but if there is, I haven't found it)

processing speed/reaction time requirements: ⭐⭐⭐

the main quest doesn't require fast reactions or processing, however, there are a few side quests that do. these are not critical to the game, however, I found how long I needed to spend to complete them slightly frustrating. However, most of the side quests do not require fast processing.

focus requirement: ⭐⭐

the perspective changes within the game means that you sometimes need to change keys to walk in a straight line, which can mean you go off in an unexpected direction.

overall, yes, I found I was able to access all aspects of the game, even though a small number of things took me a little longer.

overall ratings

autumn vibes: 🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁 very

happy stims while playing: ✨✨✨✨ quite a few

time lost that i didn't notice:⌚⌚⌚⌚ lots

boats:🚤 only one that you get to drive, but it's alot of fun

#a short hike #indie games #autumn #autism is my favourite season #game review #accessibility #thanks for reading my infodump

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that-fictional-dad · 4 years

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Griffin + Lydia

#ss: aere perennius #wasn't sure if i liked the bright background or muted #so i just posted both #falls art

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zane-romeave · 2 years

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Fit review on Aaron?

MYSTREET FIT REVIEW - AARON LOMENSA/LYCAN

MYSTREET SEASON ONE - CASUAL

Aaron’s MCD fit, only with a red jacket instead of the black one. The bandana doesnt pop as well as the MCD version and the lack of a shirt is inappropriate for the weather. However, this fit is very in character….mostly because it’s just a recolor

4/10

MYSTREET SEASON ONE - FORMAL

Its not formal and doesn’t make an impression. Muted colors fit Aarons personality, however the accents on both the shirt and pants are so similar in value to the major colors its hard to see the accents.

2/10

MYSTREET SEASON TWO - CASUAL

Abs out during appropriate weather, good values, simple color choices, and clearly a bathing suit. Would probably look better on his original skintone instead of the vibrant simpsons yellow he got in Love Love

6/10

PHOENIX DROP HIGHT - UNIFORM

Standard uniform with rebellious rolled sleeves and loose tie. The blue looks nice with Aaron’s skintone, but if he wasn’t a main reoccurring character I’d think he was just a background character.

6/10

PHOENIX DROP HIGH - CASUAL

Weather appropriate. The red is a good balance between vibrant and muted, and the off white of the shirt is a good compliment. It looks good on Aaron, but it’s very similar to Aph’s casual fit from the same season. Like, I get the intent but this is the only time Jesson used the same color for lovers. There really wasn't a reason to break their established color coordinafion method and it kinda comes off like they're related or clones.

4/10

MYSTREET SEASON THREE - CASUAL

This is a recolor of his formal fit plus fingerless gloves. The higher saturation of the red and blue and the contrast of the red and white accents is more appealing than the formal fit. He actually looks like a main character here. Loses points for unoriginality.

7/10

MYSTREET SEASON FOUR - CASUAL

Actually a pretty solid fit. The colors look nice together and with his skintone, he appears to be properly dressed for the weather, fits the season vibe, stands out. The writing of the season directly undermines this fit's functionality, but the skinmaker is not at fault for Jesson's plotholes.

8/10

MYSTREET SEASON FIVE - CASUAL A

The intent behind putting Aaron in purple is sweet, but the actual fit is kind of plain. There's only so many innovative ways to show off Aaron's abs in a bathing suit

6/10

MYSTREET SEASON FIVE - CASUAL B

We' ve gone from dull, to decent, to disgustingly bright. I would not be surprised if this fit was the sole inspiration for Aaron's styling in Aph's old gacha parodies. Why tf does he have a belt this is a bathing suit?? Who belts a bathing suit???

2/10

MYSTREET SEASON SIX - CASUAL

I can not begin to descirbe my disdain for this outfit. Sure, there's nothing technically wrong with this fit. Yeah, its not particularly out of character for Aaron. And fine, uts so iconic Jesson uses this jacket as the definitive Aaron jacket going forward.

But also Aaron Lycan is literally on the run for being a Lycan. He wears this fit specifically to hide from the governmet who are hunting down werewolves. He is wearing a bright red jacket endorned with the Lycan family crest in black on both shoulders and really huge on the back.

-10/10 this jacket is directly responsible for the death of dozens of innocents

Final Score - 3.5/10

#aphmau aaron #mystreet #mysteet aaron #aaron lycan #fit review #mys aaron #aphmau mystreet

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kyunisixx · 3 years

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chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth.

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek.

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past.

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors. All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage.

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency.

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him.

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze.

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice.

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept.

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint.

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss.

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers.

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break.

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

⭐ writings list ⭐

taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby (if you wanted to be added in, let me know 🤘🏻🤗)

#robert plant x reader #robert plant #led zeppelin #fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin imagines #john paul jones #john bonham #jimmy page #fluff #cabincore #rustic #artist!au

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thegc4life · 4 years

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Oh my, I wasn't expecting a quick response! You honestly made my day ☺️ & I would LOVE to hear the ideas you've got cooking for your FFXV story! (Also, the starlight reader tag under my first ask made my heart flutter. Thank you so much, my long shift suddenly seems bearable now ❤️)

I’m glad I could make your day a little better, it sounds like you needed it. You are now dubbed the starlight Anon. Cause you’re a bright little spot of starlight!

I went back into my doc (so MUCH) and wow, I was really close to being down with the next chapter. I’ll put it under the cut for you, love. If anyone else is interested this was going to be the majority of the next chapter of the fic “Last Chance” for FFXV. Where Umbra and Pryna take matters into their own hands.

Libertus knocked on the door, ignoring the side-eyes the guards were giving him.

“...Come in.”

He frowned at the heavy rasp. It sounded worse than usual. Twisting the doorknob he strolled in, nudging the door closed behind him. “You sound like crap.”

“Thank you, Libertus,” Umbra smiled at him from where he was curled up in his bed with a book.

“Welcome,” Libertus grinned.

Umbra huffed, lips twitching a bit higher. “Did you need something?”

He shrugged, plopping himself down in the chair next to the bed. “Not really. Nyx is busy, Selena is helpin’ out in the kitchens today I think since she wasn’t in ‘er room, and I don’t have anything to do.”

“So you are bored.”

“Pretty much.”

Umbra nodded, closing the book and setting it on his nightstand. Libertus glanced at the headache medicine next to the glass of water also resting there.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick before.”

Umbra blinked at him. “...I have a strong immune system. It doesn’t happen often.”

“That sucks,” he stretched out, propping his feet up on the bed next to him. “You can’t see the little princeling til’ you’re better right?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “I am not contagious but no one wants to risk his or mother’s health.”

He looked genuinely regretful. Libertus got it. His little brother had just been born yesterday and, with how hard it looked for him to let go of the baby when it was time for checkups, it probably really sucked to have to stay away from him.

“When Selena was born Nyx wouldn’t let go of her for days,” Libertus shared. “Even when his mom made him go to bed she’d wake up and find him curled up in her crib with her.”

Umbra leaned back into his pillows, eyes warm. “He loves her very much.”

“Oh yeah,” he agreed. “We both do. She’s an awesome kid, you know? This one time, after Nyx’s mom died and we were alone, we needed a way ta’ make money. Nyx kept tryn’ to get small jobs from the market but no one would hire him on for longer than a day. I kept tryn’ to get construction stuff cause that paid pretty well but I was too small back then so no one even gave me a second glance. We came back with nothin’, just like usual, and Selena wasn’t there.” He laughed suddenly, putting his foot down and leaning forwards. “You know how Nyx is always the one tellin’ me to calm down?”

“He is a very calming influence on you,” Umbra nodded.

“Uh,” Libertus paused, processing. “Yeah? Yeah, that. Anyways, he was not when she disappeared like that. I seriously thought was gonna kill someone, he was so mad.”

Umbra brought his knees up to his chest so he could rest his chin on them, smiling warmly. “Where did you find her?”

“Oh, we didn’t find shit,” Libertus laughed. He was glad Nyx wasn’t there to get mad at him for using ‘inappropriate language’ around the Prince. “She strolled right back home when she was good an’ ready. An’ Nyx was about to have a heart attack, he was runnin’ around like his head had been cut off!”

“And I’m sure you were very calm yourself,” Umbra said, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Libertus squinted at him. “I mighta been a little worried, sure, but the town was pretty calm back then. I figured wherever she was, someone in town was watchin’ out for her. Nyx wouldn’t hear it though. He was bangin’ on doors, demandin’ if people had seen her anywhere. Then, right before he damn near broke through old man Relis’ door she came skippin’ down the street with her little basket Nyx had woven for her. It was full of food and some cloth to make new clothes. Nyx and I damn near lost our minds.”

Umbra blinked slowly, his face relaxed as he curled in further over his legs. “How did she get all of that?”

“By being a little shit, that’s how!” Libertus laughed, leaning back. “She went around to all the market stores and houses with people that had more work than they had hands, offerin’ her own for just a little of what they had to spare, and when they tried to turn her down she guilted the hell out of em’! Told em’ that if they didn’t even try to help out the kids of Galahd then they’d end up with a town full of old folk and no one else until the whole place just fell apart. And that if the kids didn’t starve they’d up and leave for a place that took care of their own better than our shit hole.”

Umbra huffed, blinking less and less because his eyes were staying closed more and more. “I doubt they took that very well.”

Libertus smiled even wider, his heart going all warm and tingly. Because Umbra was right, Selena had pissed everyone off saying stuff like that. Galahd was huge on making sure everyone was cared for and looked after, as best they could be with what they had, so when Selena had told them otherwise they’d all felt insulted to their cores. Not a lot of people had anything to offer back then, even less as the years went on, but Selena made sure that their people stuck to their codes with a backbone of steel and the mouth of an Imp. It was hard, looking out for people when you needed looking out for, but that’s just how Galahd people were. They just needed some reminding from time to time, and Selena took to that job like a fish to water.

It was nice to see that Umbra knew that. Not a lot of city folk did.

“They were pissed,” Libertus nodded, scooting forwards when Umbra swayed a bit to the side. “Gave her all these odd an’ end kind of jobs just to shut her up and then gave her whatever they could spare in return. I don’t know anyone else that can get people to pay em’ out of pure spite like Selena can. They started givin’ Nyx and I some of those small jobs too, and even the other kids started helpin’ out. It made everyone come together again after everything. Selena is the meanest hero I’ve ever met.”

Umbra hummed, low and soft. His eyes were still closed. “...I’d love to meet her.”

“You will,” Libertus assured him. “Don’t know how you two haven’t met yet, honestly. With how much time Nyx and I spend with you and how often she hears about you I’m surprised she hasn’t kicked down your door just to know who the hell we’re talking about.”

Selena’s job in the kitchens always kept her busy (but she never complained, a spring in her step when she would come back with flour stains on her hands and crumbs in her hair) and the Glaive schedule was a ‘round-the-clock’ kind of thing so besides bedtime they never really had time to hang out with all three of them. Nyx would hang out with Selena in the kitchens in the mornings and Libertus would sneak her away for lunch, but other than that they were just too busy.

Umbra blinked blearily, his eyes a muted dark yellow. “...Next time you have training. Invite her.”

“Sure,” Libertus said even though he knew Selena was always hard at work when they trained and Umbra was usually doing his own training with the Queen. Umbra said stuff like that sometimes. Things that wouldn’t normally work but always somehow did when he said so. “Did I ever tell you about the time Nyx and I got lost in the gardens and this bird tried to eat my ear?”

Umbra breathed out softly from his nose, an approximation of a very tired laugh. “No.”

“Okay,” Libertus said, raring up for another story. “So we had the afternoon off cause you were doin’ somethin’ with your Dad, I don’t remember but it sounded boring, and Captain Drautos was in some meeting so Pelna told us to go enjoy ourselves. So Nyx, of course, picks the gardens cause they’re gods damned beautiful and we don’t even realize when one wall of plants starts looking like the next.”

As he talks he can’t quite help the slight laughter in his voice when Umbra turns sideways into his pillows and drops straight into a dead sleep. He really was a little kid. Talking someone to sleep was exactly what he had to do to Selena whenever she got sick and Nyx wasn’t around to sing to her.

Libertus kept talking, even as he pulled the blankets up around the boy’s shoulders. Nyx had mentioned that Umbra didn’t seem to be sleeping even though he was sick. Umbra was usually real good about doing what needed to be done to keep his body in tip-top shape so he wasn’t quite sure why the brat would fight sleep now of all times, but germs made you think weird so it didn’t really matter.

Libertus placed the back of his hand on Umbra’s forehead, frowning a bit at the heat. Luckily it looked like everything he needed was on the bedside table so he wouldn’t have to leave until dinner time. He’d seen one of the ladies in charge of cleaning and stuff on the way in so they’d probably be back a little before then to give Umbra whatever medicine he needed. It would be just like looking after Selena, only quieter and less likely to give him a heart attack cause Umbra knew not to sneak out of the room to work if Libertus just so happened to doze off.

Hopefully.

Wringing out a washcloth that had been soaking in the little metal bowl of iced water Libertus set it on Umbra’s head and chattered on. Background noise and a familiar voice calmed Nyx down when he was having problems falling asleep, and judging by the peaceful expression on Umbra’s face it was helping him too.

“The last time Nyx got sick I almost knocked him out just to keep him down. Selena nearly pulled out all her hair too. Nyx is such a pain in the ass when he’s sick cause he refuses to believe he’s actually sick! Even when he’s passin’ out or throwing up his entire stomach he’s all ‘I’m not sick, you two are just paranoid’. Paranoid my ass. I could sneeze and he’d have me strapped to my bed with no escape but he coughs up his own damned lung and it’s all ‘oh no Libertus, this is normal. I always cough up organs, haven’t you noticed’?”

Umbra burrowed further into his blankets.

Libertus took that as an agreement.

--00—

“Ughhh,” Pryna groaned miserably. She flopped to the side for what had to be the fiftieth time before rolling back to her original position. Why was it so hard to get comfortable?

“I warned you there would be consequences,” Umbra told her, sounding perfectly fine. “With physical bodies, we can not just push the fluctuating Time to the side, it will affect us more strongly now.”

Pryna blinked around her room blearily, making sure she was actually alone because it was so hard to focus and Luna had tried to sneak in multiple times now.

“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?” she said, pressing her palms to her eyes in an attempt to relieve the pressure built there. Her face burned beneath her hands. She could talk to him in her head, but the effort to transfer her thoughts just felt like too much. She missed the connection they had when they had full access to their core. She didn’t have to think so much to talk to him, she just had to feel and he would know. Human bodies were stupid.

“Because you learn better through experience. It won’t last long, half a day at most, but let this teach you to always keep in mind the result of our interference.”

“Will this happen every time we change things?” Pryna whined. She didn’t like the sound of that. They had big plans, they couldn’t get laid out like this (or worse) every time they needed to make a move.

“No, only when we use our magic too much. I know it feels like we are drastically weaker now due to our fractional magical supply, but what we have now is still a great strain on our physical forms. Simple things such as pausing or Seeing will not harm us in moderation, but focused skills and spacial creation will drastically affect our bodies. Freezing and slowing Aulea’s Time is simple enough, but our bodies will need the adjustment period all the same.”

Pryna frowned. She prodded at their shared magical core. It was like a giant wall was placed between them and it, only small amounts filtering to them in order not to overload them. The amount filtered to Umbra was a bit bigger. “But… you never actually stop Seeing. Won’t that make you sick all the time?”

“It would, if I were in your shoes. The Fleuret family is very magically gifted, but not nearly to the same degree as the line of Lucis. It is why your illness is so much more poignant than mine. I tried to separate the recoil as best I could but with sharing the same magic it is nearly impossible to split so definitely.”

“So that’s why we’re filling flasks,” Pryna realized. She had thought it was a little odd, placing small fractions of their magic into little magical flasks and storing them in a pocket dimension, but she had just thought it was a way Umbra had made up for her to practice her control. She shattered the vials often enough, putting too much into them, so it had made sense. “So we can use that magic instead of our main reserves.”

Umbra hummed in response. “For the most part. The flasks have many potential uses but by separating them from ourselves it makes them a little more volatile. We can’t use them for things that need absolute focus to maintain.”

“Like helping Aulea.”

“Yes.”

Pryna crossed her arms, before realizing that made her shoulders ache even more. She flopped them back to her sides, glaring at the ceiling. “I want to be able to do more too.”

“I know,” he sounded amused. “But with your control, the less is better for now. As you grow your body will be able to withstand more and you will be able to utilize it better as well.”

Pryna used to think it was unfair that she had to be limited in what she could do and try when Umbra had started out with no limiters whatsoever. She’d complained about it a lot, when she was first exploring their magic. Then, when she snapped at him for stopping her again, he had looked so sad and hurt she’d apologized on instinct. He’d said that the mistakes he made when he wasn’t even aware of what he was truly doing were irrevocable and he refused to let her make the same. She’d still felt a little cheated, but the more she learned the less angry she was.

Time could be scary sometimes.

The door creaked open and Pryna groaned.

Umbra laughed. “Try to get some rest. We’ll talk later.”

He was one to talk. Pryna knew he felt just as nervous as her, falling asleep in these weaker forms. They could still See, when they were asleep, but they could never See themselves. It made them feel vulnerable, and now that they were sick the feeling was multiplied tenfold.

Reikin walked in with a tray in his hands.

“Dad,” Pryna croaked, smiling up at him. She perked up even more when Ravus walked in and closed the door behind them. A small thump told her that Luna was on the other side, probably upset that she’d been locked out. “Ravus! Are you supposed to be in here?”

“Just for a bit,” Reikin answered for his son, voice soft and quiet. “I thought you’d like a bit of company. Can’t be too much fun, all cooped up in here.”

“It’s awful,” Pryna sniffed. “I hate being sick. I don’t know how you all handle it.”

Ravus rolled his eyes, rolling her around gently to get the blankets out from under her. “I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve ever gotten sick.”

Pryna stuck her tongue at him. It was probably thanks to Umbra. He was always telling her when to stop using their magic and how much to use. Which was only fair seeing as how he hadn't told her about it making them feel horrible if they used too much!

“Hmmm,” Reikin brushed her bangs back, resting his hand on her head while balancing the tray in his other arm. Pryna leaned into the cool touch, closing her eyes. “Your fever has gone down a bit. That’s good. Do you feel up to eating?”

She definitely did not but Umbra would get all huffy if she didn’t. It was kind of hard to remember to eat all the time (until her stomach clenched and yelled at her, that was so weird) but he always told her it was important. That rule probably still stood even if her stomach already felt like it was full of rocks.

“I guess,” she said, pushing herself up. Ravus helped her stuff the pillows behind her back, crawling up next to her and letting her rest her head on his shoulder. “...I love you Ravus.”

He snorted, tucking all of her hair behind her and out of the way. “I love you too. Now eat.”

Reikin sat on the edge next to them, helping her with the bowl of soup. They all hung their heads when the door swung open and tiny feet barreled towards the bed.

“Luna,” Reikin sighed, reaching down to scoop her up. “You can’t be in here my little moon, you’ll get sick.”

Luna looked like she wanted to cry, which made Pryna want to cry.

“I want to help,” Luna clasped her hands together, looking towards Pryna with wide, watery eyes. “You’re hurting.”

“Not anymore!” Pryna pumped her fist in the air, grinning through the aches and pains. “I feel better every time you smile, I think it’s magic!”

Luna, never one to call Pryna out for being a liar, smiled immediately.

“Ohhh,” Pryna looked at her arms in wonder. “How did you do that? I feel so much better!”

Ravus tapped her head. “Stop moving, you’ll make yourself worse.”

“You’re right,” Pryna nodded, settling back against him. “I shouldn’t waste Luna’s healing magic. Right, Luna?”

“Right,” she beamed.

A heavy, exasperated sigh drew their eyes back to the door for the fourth time. Sylva looked unimpressed.

“You three,” she narrowed her eyes at the ones that were not currently bedridden. “I explicitly told you not to come in here.”

“Darling,” Reikin stood, Luna still cradled in his arms. “I was just bringing Pryna her food and-”

“No,” she held up a finger to stop him, stepping in so she could shoo them all out. “The three of you have terrible immune systems. I told you I would handle her food, you need to go wash your hands.”

“Sylva-”

“Out,” she commanded, lifting Ravus straight out of the bed (Pryna giggled at the startled squeaking sound he made) and readjusting the pillow so Pryna could sit back again. Three pairs of sad eyes stared at her when the door closed in their faces. “Honestly, I turn my back for one second.”

Pryna laughed.

Sylva turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “And you are no better. I know you do not want them to worry, but if you push yourself this will only last longer.”

“Okay mom.”

Sylva’s face softened. She took Reikin’s spot at the side of the bed, settling the bowl of soup into her own hands.

“How are you feeling sweetie?”

Pryna smiled, feeling warm in the best way all the way down to her toes. “Better.”

“Good,” Sylva offered her the spoon. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Pryna was eventually able to doze off with Sylva’s fingers carding through her hair and a lullaby in the air.

She guessed sleeping wasn’t so bad. Not when there was someone nearby to watch over them.

--00—

One of the best things about the birth of the youngest Lucian Prince was that it made Nyx’s job much, much easier. In the Citadel it wasn’t like there was a lot he really needed to watch out for, and being surrounded by a hefty amount of both Crownsguard and Kings Glaives meant the chances of anything happening were low. The only thing Nyx really had to worry about was finding Umbra and then keeping it that way. Which, admittedly, also wasn’t very hard because for some reason while Umbra would often disappear on most of his guards (the stories shared at mealtimes were both ridiculous and a bit unbelievable) he rarely, if ever, ditched out on Nyx or Libertus. He wasn’t sure about the reasons but looking at the faces of any guard that wasn’t Alec (who Libertus was convinced had a tracking device placed on the Prince) he decided it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was still a trial and a half to find Umbra though.

At least, it was until Prince Noctis was born. As soon as Umbra’s fever had broken he had been in the medical wing with the Queen and his new little brother. Then, when Noctis was moved to his own nursery room, Umbra trailed after. Wherever the newborn was, Umbra was sure to be there too.

The shared looks of relief between Guards and Glaives when they realized they now had a sure-fire way to track the eldest son was both hilarious and relieving (who knew that one of the best ways to bring two very different types of people together was to make them watch a child with so much wanderlust it was like he was trying to float right out of his own body).

Nyx counted off in his head the four different locations Umbra was most likely to be. It was after lunch so he wouldn’t be with the Queen. She was still recovering from giving birth so she was typically only awake around meal times. He was pretty sure the King had a Council Meeting so neither Prince would be with him (even though Umbra seemed pretty intent on getting involved in those). He’d already checked Umbra’s room and found it empty, so the only other likely place for him to be was the nursery.

Hopping from ledge to ledge Nyx flipped his way to the eastern wing. When he landed on the ground outside the nursery door Alec waved at him in greeting. The other Guard was a tall, stone-faced woman Nyx had seen around a few times. She didn’t talk much. Or ever. Libertus thought she was a mech.

“Hey Nyx,” Alec smiled, tired and warm. “Here to switch with Libertus?”

“Yeah,” Nyx said. “You look tired.”

Alec scratched at the scruff along his face, blinking slowly. “That obvious? My sister’s been real sick lately. I’ve been trying to help out with her kid whenever I’m off.”

Nyx frowned. Hadn’t his sister gotten sick over a week ago? “...She okay?”

Alec shrugged, his face blank. “Hope so. I’m off soon actually, they got that new kid taking over for me. You’ve met Morgan Dires, right?”

Nyx held back a snort. “Yeah. He’s…”

“Nervous?” Alec smiled teasingly. “He’s a good kid. Just thinks too much. Mind keeping an eye on him for me?”

“Thought I was here to watch the Prince,” Nyx joked.

“Tell the Prince that,” Alec rolled his eyes fondly. “He’s been pretty lazy today though. Hasn’t left this room since noon.”

Nyx glanced at his watch (standard issue and more expensive than anything he had ever owned before). It was a little after 3.

“Before you leave,” Nyx looked up at the tall man, “stop by the kitchens and ask for Selena. Tell her I sent you and she’ll make you some Galahd soup. It clears up just about anything and it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Yeah?” Alec smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Nyx resisted the urge to bat the hand away. Alec had been one of the few people that treated him and Libertus like normal people when they first arrived, and he never cared that they weren’t from the Crown City. He always listened to Libertus and showed interest in their culture in ways none of the other Guards did. He was a good man.

“Yeah, she’ll help you out. Might talk your ear off though. Her mouth is worse than Libertus’ so you’ve been warned.”

“Thanks,” Alec smiled.

Nyx shrugged. It was a kindness done for a kindness.

Nodding to Alec and the Guardswoman (who stared straight ahead, unblinking as always) he opened the door.

Libertus was in his face, patting his arm and out the door before he could so much as say hello.

“Gotta pee, have fun, he’s super boring today!” Libertus shouted all the way down the hall.

Nyx pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. One day, one day Libertus would be aware of the people around him. One day.

Umbra was sprawled out over a collection of pillows and blankets, leaned back so that Noctis could rest on his chest with one hand on his back protectively and the other holding a book against his knee.

“Hello Nyx,” Umbra greeted, not looking up.

“Hey. You planning on letting him go anytime soon?” Nyx smirked.

Umbra looked up from his book, thumb absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles into the baby’s back. “He can’t do much right now anyway.”

“Yeah,” Nyx conceded, “but you’ve been here for about three hours now and I bet you haven’t put him down once.”

Umbra rested his head on Noctis’, closing his eyes. “My tutor mentioned that babies have a particular scent that evokes protective instincts and emotional attachment in the people around them. I wasn’t prepared for how strong it would be.”

Nyx snorted. “I can see that.”

Noctis sniffed, giving one soft yawn before turning even further into Umbra’s chest. Nyx watched Umbra melt even further into the pillows and thought about Selena.

“There’s some coloring books over there,” Umbra murmured into the light tufts of Noctis’ hair, eyes blinking open and glancing to the table against the wall near the crib. “Libertus was bored.”

Of course he was. Nyx walked over to the desk, smiling down at the half-colored pages of fish and animals.

“He didn’t even finish one,” Nyx thumbed through the top book. It was clearly designed for young children. The first ten pages were randomly colored.

“He doesn’t seem to like hobbies that make him sit,” Umbra said. “Perhaps something that uses his hands more.”

“He likes knitting,” Nyx said, tearing out one of the pictures of a Chocobo and tucking it carefully into his jacket for Selena. “And carving.”

“Mh,” Umbra hummed. Nyx glanced over at him. He was curled on his side now, Noctis resting on a large pillow next to him. Umbra had his arm wrapped around the youngest Prince to keep him in place. “What do you enjoy?”

“Not sure,” Nyx shrugged, walking to the window and leaning against the wall. He pulled out one of his daggers and practiced flipping it from one hand to the other. “I never really had time to relax and figure that kind of thing out. Libertus took up things to help me and Selena out after Mom died, and Selena only got into cooking to keep us alive. I did a lot of the grunt work so anything that required a ‘finer touch’ I left to them.”

“You have time now,” Umbra said, sighing contentedly. “You should find something before that changes.”

Nyx frowned a bit. “...Things gonna change a lot?”

One yellow eye peered open, staring at him for a moment before closing again. “The older we get the busier you will be.”

Nyx turned back to the window. That was true. Now that Umbra had completed the Crystal’s Ceremony he would be recognized by the Council and King as a true member of the royal family. With how eager Umbra was to jump into everything Nyx was sure his days would become a lot more hectic.

If Umbra was hard to keep track of in the Citadel what would it be like when he had access to the city as well?

...He didn’t want to think about that.

Nyx sighed. He’d been here for less than thirty minutes and he was already feeling restless. One look at Umbra told him that both Princes were sleeping soundly now and would be for the foreseeable future. He was used to roaming the Citadel all the time, or at least listening in on Umbra’s lessons. Umbra never napped until Noctis was born. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t go talk to Alec (or Dires) because of their guard set up so he had to stay in the room, he wasn’t big on coloring, and flipping his knives around would only keep him mentally active for so long.

Nyx paced around the room, picking up the few toys that had been lying around. The little Princeling already had more toys than Selena had ever seen in her life but it made sense. He couldn’t get mad at the kid for being born into a better life than others. That’s just how life was sometimes.

Another half-hour passed and Nyx was debating on borrowing Umbra’s book while he slept.

Noctis whined.

Nyx ambled over, looking down at the pair.

Tiny blue eyes looked up at him curiously.

“Hey there,” Nyx whispered, crouching down. “You done napping?”

Noctis yawned, showing off his gums. He started to wiggle a bit, one hand nearly punching Umbra in the eye.

“Careful there Highness,” Nyx pushed the little arms away gently. He jumped when Umbra’s hand clamped around his wrist.

Eight-year-olds are not intimidating.

The eight-year-old holding his wrist like he was about to snap it, glaring up at him with eyes too slitted to be normal, was.

Umbra blinked. His face relaxed, pupils widening. “...Nyx.”

“Yeah?” Nyx said, trying not to sound like his heart had just jumped into his throat.

Umbra released his wrist, yawning into his shoulder. Noctis batted at his face and he smiled. “It’s time for him to eat. Let’s go to the kitchens, they should have everything ready.”

“Okay.”

Nyx stepped back to let Umbra stretch and get ready to go. He tapped slowly along the side of his leg, forcing his heart to calm down and match the steadier tempo. That had been… startling. Libertus sometimes woke up swinging because he didn’t know where he was or what was going on. Selena would shake awake from her nightmares and stare at him blankly until her brain processed what was around her. Those made his heart race too, but not like this.

“Shall we?” Umbra tilted his head towards the door, polite smile in place and Noctis cradled in his arms with a soft blanket. The baby Prince was making short, burbling sounds that had Umbra humming in response. It was like the last few seconds hadn’t happened at all.

Nyx opened the door for them.

“Prince Umbra!” Morgan saluted sharply, twitching at the sudden appearance. “And young Prince Noctis! Are we going somewhere?”

“Hello Guardsman Dires,” Umbra greeted, shifting Noctis more comfortably in his arms. Nyx wondered how often he’d shooed away the nursemaids throughout the day, seeing as how he hadn’t ever really seen them around when Umbra was with the princeling. “I offer my gratitude for taking over Guardsman Nollan’s duties.”

Morgan flushed to his ears. “I-It was no trouble at all Your Highness, I am always happy to serve.”

Nyx snorted, drawing the anxiety-ridden guard’s attention to him.

“Ulric,” Morgan scowled.

“Dires,” Nyx tipped his head.

“Your Highness,” the female guard from before cut in. Both Nyx and Morgan jumped a bit at the sound of her voice. “Prince Noctis is not to leave this room unless escorted by the King or Queen.”

Umbra smiled up at her. “Father is in a meeting and Mother is ill. I’m afraid there isn’t much choice if Noctis is to eat, Guardswoman Nelia.”

“The food can be brought up here.”

“It will be safer if we go ourselves.”

The lightest crease of a frown on Nelia’s face (it had taken far too long for Nyx to learn her name) was the most expression Nyx had ever seen from her. “Safer, Your Highness?”

Umbra nodded, still smiling. “The servant in charge of delivering Noctis’ food has been feeling under the weather lately. I would hate to accidentally expose Noctis to any illnesses while his immune system is still so weak.”

Nelia stared down at him, unbending. “Another servant can be requested.”

“Yes,” Umbra agreed, “but they are short-staffed today. By the time they found someone Noctis would be very upset.”

“The needs of the royal family is our top priority, a servant would prioritize that above all else.”

“Which is why it would be best for us to go to them. They would put a simple meal first and foremost and then their tasks for the day would be even more behind schedule. I would hate for a bottle for Noctis to come in the way of my Father eating on time.”

Nelia’s eyes narrowed.

Nyx and Morgan shared a look. There was no way to know if asking one servant to do something would actually make the King’s meal late, but there was also no way she was going to call Umbra a liar to his face.

“...As you wish Prince Umbra.”

It was a good thing Libertus wasn’t here. He wouldn’t have been able to hide his snickers like Nyx could. You really didn’t argue with Umbra. It never ended well.

As they started walking down the hall Nyx hopped up onto the ceiling ledges. He rolled his eyes at the doe-eyed look Morgan was giving Umbra. That kid had a serious case of hero-worship. It made poking fun at him way to easy.

“Nyx?”

He looked down.

Umbra smiled up at him. “Would you mind going ahead and letting the staff know we’ll be there soon? It should make our trip a little faster.”

Nyx pursed his lips a bit to stop the knowing smile growing there. “Sure.”

Flipping out the window he warped his way down to the kitchens. Hopping down next to the door he waved at the head cook.

“What’re you doing here Ulric?” the robust man asked, pressing deeply into the dough laid out in front of him. “You’re on Prince duty, aren’t you?”

“The littlest Princeling is hungry,” he said.

The chef’s eyes brightened with understanding. He nodded to the fridge behind him. “In there. Warm it up for a bit and it’s set to go.”

Nyx nodded, feeling a little odd at being trusted to handle the food for a royal. Perks of having a sister that stole the hearts of the people around her with sarcasm and dedication he guessed.

When the milk was warmed (and double-checked by the chef) Nyx walked out to see Umbra waiting for him.

“You got down here quick,” Nyx smirked. Neither Morgan or Nelia were with him.

Umbra smiled, teeth bright. “I took a shortcut.”

“Of course you did,” Nyx handed the bottle over. “Where to now?”

“I want to check if Mother is awake.”

“Alright.”

--00--

And that’s all I’ve got for that chapter. There’s a lot more stuff, in less chapter like format. let me know if you’re interested in reading more darling! Some of them are literally two sentences long like a summary of what I was planning to write but some are pretty long scenes. A lot is from when they are all older. I hope you liked it!

#adorable bean response #ffxv fic #ffxv #Last Chance #get some rest starlight #youve earned it

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nerdy-novelist017 · 5 years

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Awakening (Joker/Arthur Fleck fanfic)

This is my first Joker fanfic. I absolutely loved the 2019 movie. Joaquin Phoenix deserves an Oscar for his performance. The film was cinematically beautiful The writing was haunting and stuck with me for a long time after. The soundtrack deserves its own Oscar, it was a perfect representation of Arthur Fleck. I just HAD to write something after seeing this movie.

Enjoy!

Ps. Feedback is appreciated greatly!

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She had never wanted this for her life. When she was a young girl, her dream was to be a princes and fall in love with her brave prince charming, just like all those Disney movies had sold to her. The idea that she could live in a perfect world, waking up to birds chirping and animals talking, singing all day and, eventually, falling in love with this perfect, pure person. But it was all a story, a lie told to eager young girls. There was no talking animals. And singing in public caused people to to look at you strangely. And there definitely was no prince charming of any kind. Just a broken world full of broken people just like her. Elizabeth was no princess. She was a prostitute.

Elizabeth walks down the sidewalk of the empty sidewalk. Her shift had started ten minutes ago, for that she is sure that The King would have her head. Her black, strappy heels leaves soft clicking noises as she quickens her pace. Thoughts of how she could slip past her boss races through her head as she rounds the corner to go to the back entrance. She yanks open the door and slips mutely inside. Almost immediately her nose is filled with the obnoxious smell of cigerettes and beer, smells that she has gotten use to in her career. The noises of the club surrounds her with yelling, laughing and, of course, cursing. She feels like it might have warmed up at least five degrees inside from the the crowd of people. Liz is use to this atmosphere. She is use to rude drunks, the sore losing gamblers, and her customers.

She ducks into the back hallway where it leads her to the back room filled with her other coworkers who are lounging on the uncomfortable, velvet couches. The room is dark, and falling apart at the walls. Ugly, cracking gold paint covered the walls with a faux rich atmosphere. The front of the casino was rich and fancy, the back was not.

"Look what the cat drug in," a voice speaks loudly in a thick New Jersey accent. Elizabeth knows who it is without even looking. She can recognize that wretched, annoying voice in her sleep. The voice belongs to a woman named Imani. She is a prostitute in her late twenties, just slightly older than Liz. She's a beautiful, tall, African American girl who had been in prostitution since she was eithteen. Ever since Liz had found Saltwater Casino all those years ago, Imani has made it her personal goal to make her life a living hell. As if it isn't already.

"Dragged," Liz corrects her grammar as she digs around in her purse. Her fingers find the tube of lipstick at the very bottom, under piles of napkins, loose change and packets of gum. She quickly rushes to one of their many full-length mirrors to apply a fresh layer of her favorite red lipstick.

"Oh, screw you, Lizzie," Imani spits as she rose from her lounge. In three long strides, she is across the room, glaring daggers at Liz. Years ago, when Elizabeth had first started working at Saltwater Casino, she would have flinched away from Imani's towering form and beautiful glaring looks. She would have immediately apologized and slunk away like the weak person she was. But that was the past when Liz was just a young girl. Now, she turns directly towards Imani.

With faces just inches away , Liz speaks calmly, "Get out of my face, Imani,"

The room full of girls has turned their attention to the fight brewing. The atmosphere grows tense.

"Girls, knock it off," a strict voice averts all of their attention to the doorway where a larger man stands, arms folded over his large chest. He barely fits in the doorway with his towering height, but where he is tall, he certainly lacks any attractive physic. He's skinny, with arms and legs that look like they have not seen a day's worth of hard work in their entire life. Liz figures he is built this way from the cocaine she knows he uses often. His veins are in a perpetual state of protruding down his arms. However weak he may appear, he is certainly no weak man. She knows this from experience. All of the girls do.

Without missing a beat, Imani takes a step back, throwing her arms open wide, "Mistah King, look who was ten minutes late, yet again. She came in here with an attitude lookin' to start a fight with me as usual."

Elizabeth rolls her eyes, knowing there was no use arguing her side. A few of the others girls laugh, they all knew she was lying, but none bother to back Liz up. It is survival instincts that keep them quiet. Each of them know that if they say anything to her, Imani will make their lives unnecessarily complicated. So, they say nothing.

"Lizzie, walk with me," Mr. King demands as he turns, leaving Elizabeth to slide around Imani and follow her boss out of the room.

"She's lying, I wasn't --" Liz starts once they were out of earshot and down the hallway. The hallway that was decorated with dreadful red and gold wallpaper that warped and peeled in more than one area. It was dim, the wall scorns not bright enough to lighten the hallway. Nothing could brighten the back of the building.

"So you were on time?" Mr. King cuts her off. Liz looks away. Great, he was already in a bad mood tonight.

"Yes," Elizabeth lies, focusing her gaze on a particular bubble of wallpaper that shapes a mangled dolphin. Anything would be better than looking into her boss' cold, dark eyes. She swallows the frog in her throat. She hates the effect he still has on her. The knots in her stomach, the shivers on her skin. She hates the way he makes her feel vulnerable, small.

"What have I told you about being late, baby girl?" Mr. King leans in closer to her as he speaks in a low whisper. Elizabeth almost flinches at his pet name he had given her throughout the years.

"Don't let it happen," She answers, emotionless. Her nose burns from the stench of alcohol on his breath.

He reaches his skinny hand out to stroke her cheek and down to her neck. Elizabeth refuses to cower under his touch. She doesn't want to satisfy him in any way. Instead, she looks him straight in his beady black eyes, "You got a shift for me?"

He is quiet for a long time, only staring at her. Finally, he backs away and says, "Yeah, you're on from nine to five,"

She bites her lip in anger. He has purposefully given her a crappy shift because she had talked back to him. She shakes her head and makes her way to the front of the casino. It is a busy night as usual. It is a Tuesday night, so there is classical music playing in the background as customers gambled, drank or talked. She sits on a high stool where the girls sometimes wait for men who were looking for an hour's escape from reality. She immediately spies her coworker and closest thing to a friend she has.

"Hey, Nat," greets Liz as she moves to sit closer to the young girl at the opposite end of the bar.

The woman looks up from her ciggerette, causing her kinky, blonde curls to bounce slightly at the sudden movement. Her face breaks out into a wide smile, "Hey, sugar!"

"Is that a new shade of lip gloss?" Lizzie asks when she takes a seat.

"Oh this old thing?" Nat's messy manicured nails gestures to her lips, "Nah, I've had this for quite a while. Got it from my second cousin. Anyway, I didn't know you would be working tonight." her southern drawl slurs her words together. She constantly speaks of her childhood home back in New Orleans, where she has inherited her accent. Whenever she would ask Elizabeth about her childhood home, Liz would dismiss it as unimportant or not worth the time.

"Got nine to five," Lizzie confirms as she signals one of the many bartenders to bring her a drink. He's a kind man, often servers her for free.

"Oh, honey," Nat shakes her head in shame, "that is such a shitty shift. He's such an ass."

"It was because I was late, slept through my alarm," she leaves out the part where Mr. King got too close for comfort. It isn't like she is the only girl he has done it to. She's seen multiple new girls go into his office for longer than they should have. She pities them, but doesn't dare speak up against him. She needs this job. It is the only thing she is good at in life.

"Well," Natasha props her elbows on the glossy oak top, "at least you got a good night, there's been a dozen of cutie butterflies that came in earlier. They are all over there, by the slots."

Elizabeth's dark eyes follows Nat's gaze directed over to the east wing, where a group of clean-cut men pool around, cheering on their friend who was about to roll his dice. The two girls have code words for different type of customers. Butterfly is the code for an attractive young man. Because they are few and far between, they have been given the word butterflies. Moths are the name given to just about every other customer. They are usually old, fat and unattractive married men. Moths are ugly and always a pest to deal with, thus the nickname was born.

"I don't know, they seem pretty invested in their game," Elizabeth shakes her head and leans her chin on her palm, resting her elbow on the table top.

"A girl can dream, right?" she flashes one of her brilliant smiles.

As the night progressed on, Elizabeth chats with Natasha as much as she could before one of them would most likely be whisked away by a needy customer. They both have a drink of vodka before their Mr. King could see. Throughout her years of prostitution, she has learned to yearn for a drink to calm her nerves. A couple moths sway through, looking for a date for the night, both girls quickly show them to the other prostitutes on shift.

"Lizzie, you're on room nine, guy's already in there waiting for you," Mr. King appears behind her, eyeing them as if they are threatening him at gun point, "You planning on paying for that, or am I gonna have to take it out of your paycheck?"

"Course, Mister King," Natasha winks at him over the brim of her glass as she downs the rest of the amber colored liquid.

"I didn't even see anyone go in the den," Elizabeth raises her eyebrow in confusion. The den is what the girls called their workspace. Usually it consists of a queen bed and a couple of rickety night stands. It's a sad room where the girls spend most of their nights with various men.

"Let's hope he's a butterfly," Nat smiles in encouragement as she raises her empty glass of vodka, "look good, babe,"

Elizabeth nods, forcing a tight smile. She follows Mr. King out of the main room and moves down the cramped hallway, all the way until he pauses in front of a door. The wood has been painted black with a giant red heart and in the center is the number 9. Before her hand can grab the door handle, a large first curls around her bicep.

"This man is paying very well, baby girl, so don't screw anything up with your woman emotions, got it?" Mr. King spits through clenched teeth.

Elizabeth nods her head, "Got it,"

He releases her arm and takes a few steps back, "Good, he paid for an hour, so that's what your going to give him," and with that, he turns and disappears down the dim-lighted hallway.

Elizabeth knows if this man complained in any way, Mr. King would punish her severely. She runs a hand through her dark chestnut hair to make herself look more seductive. A shaky hand reaches out to grab the door handle again. She curls her hands into a fist to stop the shaking. She is strong. She can do this. Her usual prepping rings out in her head. Opening the door, she is greeted with a dark room, the only light illuminating was the light spilling in from the hallway behind her. For a moment, she actually thinks she has the wrong room. She reaches to flick on the light switch. The lights pop on and she can see his towering form over by the window, broad back facing her.

She gently closes the door and moves towards the bed in the center of the room, "So, you like standing in dark rooms?"

"No," his voice was low and calm. He speaks clearly, without any stutter or shyness. He is sure of himself, "I like the look of the city. When the lights are on, it leaves a glare on the window."

He still hasn't turned to face her yet, giving Elizabeth a chance to see his body. He is very tall, long legs and broad shoulders. Soft layers of black hair spills out around his neck and just touching his shoulder. He is lean but muscular enough to be intimidating. He wears a beige jacket that stretches across his long back. Simple boot cut jeans covers his lengthy legs and finishes at his boots.

Elizabeth thinks he is strange, but she shrugs it off and lays on her side of the bed, leaning one leg over the other, "Are you gonna come over here, or are you gonna stare out the window the entire time?"

His towering form turns slowly, stepping away from the window. Elizabeth can see that he has a sharp jawline, littered with a light dusting of stubble. His lips are splashed with just enough pink hue to make them look full and playfully tasteful. His hooded brows and lack of light in the room conceal his eye color from her.

His feet stop when he approaches the end of the bed. He rings his hands out as if he is nervous. She studies his face for a moment and frowns. She has seen him before. But where?

Elizabeth clears her throat before she speaks, "You don't have to worry about wearing anything. That's already taken care of by me."

She looks down at her cheap clothing, expecting him to want her to start stripping her sheer, black tank-top to reveal her lacy, red bra. She unconsciously plays with a loose thread on the purple bedspread. The nerves always eats through her stomach right before she meets a customer. None of the men that came in for the night are good people. All of them are either drunks avoiding their nagging wives, young men getting a taste of freedom, or even aged men without anyone in their lives. She can't quite tell what this man's tell was.

When he does not acknowledge her, she sits up a little, propping her upper half of her body on her hands, "What's your name?"

He tilts his head to the side, "I'm Arthur," he seems to pause a moment before continuing, "what's yours?"

This causes Elizabeth to pause and stare at him with a small, agape mouth. Hardly any of the men that come through on their nightly livelihood ever ask her name. They don't care. She is just a tool to them, just disposable. "Call me Lizzie,"

"Lizzie," he looks down at his feet as he tests the name on his tongue. An uncomfortable silence fills the room, creating a tense atmosphere for Elizabeth. Usually she is not this uncomfortable and stiff, but this man, Arthur, is forming a very afflictive attitude within her. His presence is unsettling, making her want to get away.

"Um, do you want to sit on the bed?" Elizabeth suggests, motioning to the fluffed pillows.

Arthur cautiously lowers himself to sit on the edge of the bed, furthest away from her as he could possibly be without falling off the side. Elizabeth scoots over to the middle of the bed, laying down on her back and closing her eyes. When he still does not move or speak, She peers an eye open.

"You alright? You only paid for an hour, so..." Elizabeth trails off.

"I paid for an hour in this room, right?" he asks.

"Yes, an hour with me in this room." she confirms.

He looks away from her face, suddenly finding the wood paneling more interesting than ever, "Is it alright if we just...talked instead?"

Elizabeth tilts her head to the side in utter confusion. She is expecting him to request a lot of different things, but she definitely does not expect that to be one of them. When his eyes float back to hers, she immediately looks down in embarrassment. She can feel heat rise in her cheeks. Who was this guy? "We can start with that, to calm your nerves,"

"I don't want to use your body for prostitution, Lizzie," he speaks softly and quickly, "I don't want that from you."

Her head is pounding with confusion as she stares at the mysterious stranger. Most men don't even care for her name, and now here this man is telling her that he doesn't want to have sex with her? Her immediate thoughts were that he is shy to be naked in front of her, hence the lights. "We don't have to leave the lights on, if that's what you mean,"

His face remains straight, "It's not. I did not hire you for sex."

She hears bells of alarm and panic in the back of her mind. This man was so odd, so unpredictable. "Are you a cop?"

He laughs loudly and shakes his head. he looks to be in pain as he covers his mouth with his hand and turns away from her.

Then she suddenly remembers that laugh. That eerie laugh. The same laugh he gave when he was on the Murray Franklin Show. The same laugh he gave before he killed the popular tv host.

She stands so quickly she stumbles in her heels. The door is the only thing on her mind. She needs to get out of this room and away from this murderer. However, she needs to accomplish this sneakily. Who knows what he would do to her?

He notices her change and stands beside her, his laughter has died down. She panics at his towering form and rushes for the door, barely pulling it open before he's by her side, slamming it shut.

"Don't," he growls and she yelps, hand still on the door handle.

"You're him," she whispers, "you're the Joker,"

"You aren't going to run out there and scream for security. I don't get out of jail just so that I can go right back in," he says lowly, his warm breath fans across her face. He smells strongly of cigarettes and a musky cologne. He is so close to her, she turns her head to the door, she doesn't want to look into the eyes of a murderer. Of her murderer.

"Are you going to kill me? My boss is just right down the hall. He and others would here if I screamed." she surprises herself with her newfound courage.

"They don't appreciate you as you should be," he says, "they wouldn't care if they found you dead in this room. You are just a tool to them. Just something to be used to gain them even more money. The rich come in here and abuse you then pay you way below what you're worth."

Tears prick her eyes as she gripes the door handle tighter. Though she knows all this to be true, it still hurts to hear.

She startles when she feels his cold hand slowly turn her cheek to face him. His fingers move to her mouth, his thumb gently tracing over her bottom lip before pulling her mouth into a large smile. He mimics her forced smile with one of his own, "Smile, I'm not going to kill you."

She feels herself being drawn to him, her hands falls of the door knob as he pulls her closer. His eyes, a brilliant green, hold so much emotion. So much pain. So much honestly.

His hands drop from her mouth, and he backs away. It feels as if she can breathe again. She watches him retreat to the bed, sitting alone. She swallows, her throat feels dry as she glances back at the door.

"You can leave," he speaks without looking at her as he pulls a cigarette from its pack, "but we both know you don't want to."

She wants to leave, more than anything. Her mind tells her to run and call the cops. But when she turns back to him, he's sitting on the bed, pulling out a cigarette from its pack. He lights it and takes a long puff from it before putting his head in his hands. He looks so broken, so defeated. So lonely.

"There's nobody to talk to anymore," his voice drops off to a lower octave, "Even before they cut all the funding to those therapists, they never really listened. They never really talk. They didn't care."

She is quiet for a few minutes before speaking with a scratchy voice, "I'm not a trained therapist. I don't know what to say like they do."

"They never knew what to say either. That's why I like you, Lizzie. You aren't like them. You are like me." he smiles at her, and she wraps her arms around her torso uncomfortably.

"I'm nothing like you."

"You can't see it now. You haven't found your awakening yet," he takes another puff of his cigarette and looks away again.

She hesitates a moment before slowing moving into a sitting position on the bed as far away from him as possible,"You paid an awful lot of money just to sit in this dingy room and talk with me,"

He nods, "I know you must be confused, but I paid for an hour."

She is quiet for a few painfully awkward seconds. She self-consciously tugs down on her skirt, no longer confident in her own skin. He sat completely still, as if he were waiting for her to leave through the door. But she doesn't. She needs this job. She needs the money. When she got home last night, her landlord had stopped her as she stumbled into the apartment building at two in the morning. Dan Flemmings was a short, balding Latino . Liz likes to blame the fact that his wife ran away to Belize with his best friend on why he was so mean, but the truth was, he was born to be bitter in this world. He never shows any mercy on her, or any other building attendant, in fact. If your rent was a day short, you needed to find a new building to live. He caught her as she was unlocking her door, ready to shower and sleep for a few hours before needing to wake up and repeat the process all over again. He had been waiting for her.

“You got your rent, Griffin?" his grating voice startled her, "It was due yesterday,"

She kept her emotions at bay, no matter how irritating Dan was when he used her surname, "That was yesterday? Must have slipped my mind."

“You know damn well that its always the first of the month," he stepped closer to her, the fluorescent light hanging above them highlighted his scared top lip, a final parting gift from his ex wife, "I won't make exceptions for you or your sister."

“Got it," she mumbled. She didn't have the money, in fact. She was almost two hundred short. With her food bills and her sister’s medical bills, she did not have enough money to pay for both her meals and her rent.

She needs the money. That's why she stays with the Joker.

“What do you want to talk about?"

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