#yes racket I have read fanfic so good I want fanfic of it

[chuplayswithfire]

Hey man, I'm using a throwaway because I've found a lot of the ofmd fandom really hostile lately and don't want anyone in my main's dms. I'm really not trying to like, be a coward or anything.

I really like your blog and you seem like a cool person, but I was honestly kind of disheartened when I noticed you dismissing the death threats and other awful messages a lot of people (particularly Izzy enjoyers, yes, but I know they're not the only ones) receive.

I understand that that kind of hostility existing might go against your view of this fandom and the world in general, or that maybe you even think these people deserve the things they're told, but I REALLY doubt the multiple people I've seen speak out about this issue are all lying about it or making things up. It just seems like a lot of hoops to jump through just to assume that, when the simpler explanation would just be that at least most of them are real.

Hell, I have a screencap of a mutual of mine receiving their first anon hate telling them to kill themselves for liking Izzy, but since that person was cowardly enough to go on anon I guess to you that's fake too? Like, is it really so hard to accept that this stuff is happening? Or do you really think so lowly of people who like a fictional character that you think they're all liars and master manipulators making shit up for fun?

Even if you ignore the death threats, there's someone on multiple sites right now commenting really awful stuff on people's Izzy art, many of said artists being minors. This I do have proof of. Like I've seen this person tell a black gay man he was a racist and a fujoshi for liking Izzy and drawing art of him?? Seeing this kind of behavior, I have a hard time believing death threats or suicide baiting would be out of the question.

It just really hurts seeing you dismiss experiences like that. I'm probably coming off as unhinged writing all this to a single person, I guess I just think you seem cool and reasonable so this took me off guard. I'd like to apologise in advance if anything I said was upsetting, I'd just like to hear where you're coming from with this.

I hope you have a good day regardless, sorry for making you read all of this. Appreciate you.

Just to get this out of the way, I fully doubt the veracity of this statement because you're a throwaway account. I haven't been on tumblr for 10+ years to be rocked by someone rolling up to me with a terrible sounding story without anyway to verify it. I'm just meant to trust you, an anonymous stranger, that all these horrible things are happening.

Now, do I think there are tons of hateful messages being sent out and about to various fans of various characters? Absolutely. Of course it is. My anons are closed because of the hateful messages I received, which racketed up to being told various ways I should be killed or that I should kill myself once I told the anon that I would not be sharing their messages. Of course that's happening to many other people.

What I personally doubt is that some of the people claiming to receive hate, are actually receiving hate. And frankly, when its anonymous, I have to maintain skepticism because 1) anyone can send themselve anons and 2) anyone can stop anonymous harassment by turning off anon. I'm an example of that. When someone is receiving tons of hateful anon asks and refuses to just turn off anon, I'm naturally skeptical.

But going back to what I said about doubting people - I am again confident that many people have received hateful messages. However, when I see, for example, a person with a total of less than ten posts, less than five of which are about OFMD, talking about the barrage of hateful anons they've received for liking Izzy, I'm doubtful. When I see artists talking about the hate they've received for their art, and then I look at their art and they've been whitewashing, I'm doubtful. When I see fanfic authors lamenting the hate that they've received, and I check the comments being made and they're about how the content of a chapter or story is racist, I'm doubtful.

Ultimately, do I believe this fanom has hateful anons? Yes. Do I think many people are making it up because they believe it strengthens their position? Yes. Do I think *anyone* who claims they and the people around them are uniquely bullied for liking a particular character is being obtuse? Yes. Some fans of Izzy are undoubtedly getting unwarranted and cruel comments. So are Stede and Ed fans, so are fans of the whole show, so are people who post about hating the show. Not to be flippant, but it's the internet. I'm not going to just believe someone because they said something on the internet, but while I have sympathy for people experiencing the distinctly shit feeling of "my inbox is full of hateful comments", I'm also not going to pretend I don't raise my brows when some of the people I see pushing that idea the most are people I see making racist ass commentary.

In short: I am a cool person, I'm glad you like my posts, because I do not know who you are and cannot investigate your claims I do not trust your account. I'm simply too cynical to not raise a brow when people start voicing that they're the most hated people within a fandom just because they like a character.

Getting hate sucks. Sending hate is shitty. Unfortunately, it's part and parcel of the experience of being active on the internet.

#fandom fuckery #asked and answered

[chloegong]

that semi-AU romajuliette + benmars fic

i need a permanent place to store this after dumping a random google doc on twitter so here it is, the author writing fic for her own book because people gave me headcanons and they were too good not to make use of

__

the one where juliette and marshall go out for a night out on the town and roma and ben have to go along to supervise because one time they accidentally committed arson —headcanon from twitter user @leonidasvaldz

a semi AU where Benedikt and Marshall were hanging out with Roma and Juliette in those happy months R&J had together in 1922 before everything went wrong (aka you can take this as canon because it will fit the timeline but the characters won’t have memory of this in the actual published books)

Disclaimer: i wrote this in one go inside a starbucks please expect ao3 user chloegong and not Author Chloe Gong who does multiple rounds of edits on her books

Second Disclaimer: nobody go putting this on goodreads before someone on my publishing team kicks my ass (rightfully so, i’m on deadline rn and i’m writing fanfic instead of my real contracted manuscript)

Mandatory reminder that Our Violent Ends is available for preorder with all links here :)

__

It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And yet, somehow, Benedikt was watching fire curl around the side of the building, the roof beams giving a loud groan before shuddering and caving in on itself.

He turned a look onto Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

~

Five hours earlier...

Juliette climbed in through the window of Roma’s bedroom, careful to hug the burlap bag close to her chest as she landed on his carpet. The howling wind outside drowned out some of the clinking, but the glass bottles were still making a racket no matter how carefully she hugged the bag. She had gone full throttle for tonight; when no one was watching and her relatives were downstairs crowing over a game of cards, she had snuck around and robbed the liquor cabinets at the Scarlet mansion quite generously. Now she dropped the bag onto Roma’s floor with a huff, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes.

“Where’s Marshall?”

Roma looked up from where he was reading, putting his book down and rising from the bed smoothly.

“Well, hello.” He strode toward her, stopping before her with his arms crossed. “Lovely to see you too. You do know it is my bedroom you just snuck into, right?”

Juliette pretended to jump in surprise, looking around wildly. “Do you jest? Oh, bother. Let me climb back out and go find my real lover. Marshall! Where are—”

With a huff that seemed to double as a laugh, Roma grabbed her wrist before she could turn around and leave through the window again.

“You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.

“I know.” Juliette reached up with her free hand, clasping her cold fingers right onto his neck. Though her palm was freezing from the bitter temperatures outside, Roma hardly flinched, he only shrugged his shoulder up to keep her hand there. He couldn’t fight back the grin. For several seconds, the two of them only stood there, looking like a pair of idiots smiling at each other.

Then his door opened.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Marshall bounded into the room, throwing the door wide open. With a horrified expression, Benedikt hurried in after him and closed the door quickly, listening for movement on the other side.

“Yes, leave the door wide open,” Benedikt said. “While any White Flower strolling the corridor can peer in and see the Scarlet heir standing there in a silly coat.”

Juliette stepped away from Roma, peering down at herself as if she had forgotten what she put on. “I didn’t think it was that silly. It’s my disguise.”

“You do look a little like a housewife,” Marshall said, considering the coat.

“A fifteen-year-old housewife?”

“I suppose that is exactly why you look a little silly.”

Juliette pulled a face, but refrained from arguing further. She was here tonight because Marshall wanted to see the new Scarlet club that opened along Thibet Road, and she had promised she could sneak him in. Unfortunately, Marshall was bad at keeping secrets, and the worst at keeping secrets from Benedikt. The moment that Benedikt heard Marshall was planning on entering Scarlet territory, he had decided that he would come in accompaniment.

Juliette supposed it was only fair. Benedikt didn’t entirely trust her, but he was nice enough. He tolerated her presence and always kept an eye over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t spotted on their territory if she poked her head in to see Roma. While Juliette didn’t know much about Marshall either, he was far warmer than his best friend, and for the first time last week, they had even enjoyed an outing with just the two of them. Juliette Cai and Marshall Seo—out and about in the border territories on a quaint evening.

That outing had ended with accidental arson though, so it was rather possible that exacerbated Benedikt’s desire to play chaperone. And of course, if Benedikt was coming along, Roma wanted to tag along too.

The arson was hardly their fault, Juliette and Marshall had maintained when the Montagovs asked questions. What kind of person left a stack of hay out beside a bar? And what kind of hay was that easily flammable just from accidentally whacking one of the lanterns on the awning onto the stack?

“All right.” Juliette hauled the bag up again. “Are we ready to sneak onto Scarlet territory?”

“Absolutely not,” Benedikt muttered, strolling past her for Roma’s window. “But is that going to stop either of you?”

Before anyone could answer him, Benedikt had already hopped the small gap between windows, climbing into their neighboring building for their route out unspotted.

“Great!” Juliette said. She passed the bag to Roma so he could do the carrying. What was the point of converting a rival gang enemy into a lover if not to lug around her heavy things? “Glad we’re all so enthusiastic.”

Roma sighed, clambering onto his sill and making the climb too. “The things I do for you, dorogaya.”

Marshall hurried after him. “I would argue you’re actually doing this for me, dearest Roma!”

With a snort, Juliette climbed out last, and pulled the window after her.

~

The Scarlet club had been a bust. Of course, Benedikt had figured that would be the case from the get-go, especially if they were sneaking in at such a late hour to avoid being seen by anyone important in the Scarlet Gang. At least Juliette had provided good alcohol, and now he squinted at the label of the wine bottle under the street lamps while they walked, taking the smaller main roads along the periphery of the city.

Up ahead, Roma and Juliette were whispering to each other, though they didn’t sound like they were talking in full sentences. Those two always communicated in looks and gestures, swapping languages whenever they felt like it and ending up with some incoherent tangle of words that no one else could comprehend.

“Is there anything left in that?”

Benedikt glanced to his side, shaking the bottle to show Marshall. “One last swig. All yours.”

Marshall took the bottle. He put it to his lips and swung up, his head tipped to the sky and the line of his throat bared to the night. Benedikt shivered suddenly, a line of goosebumps rising at the back of his neck. The season had turned cold and the wind that blew onto his face was biting. He wrote off his shudder to the chill, to the temperature dropping with the longer they spent outside at such an hour.

Suddenly, Marshall was squinting into the distance. “Hey.” His call summoned Roma and Juliette’s attention from ahead, who both turned around to see what the matter was.

Marshall pointed to the dark shape off the end of the road. “Isn’t that the abandoned factory we lost to the Scarlets?”

“Is it?” Juliette asked, a sudden glee in her face.

“Why would you say that?” Roma bemoaned. He didn’t bother trying to stop her as Juliette hurried ahead, eager to explore the factory. “Look what you’ve done.”

But Marshall was wearing a similar expression, his eyes scanning the factory as they approached closer and closer. Wordlessly, he handed the bottle back to Benedikt, and though Benedikt’s head was spinning from the drink, he still recognized the exact face that Marshall made before he was going to get himself into trouble.

“Mars—”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he insisted, tipping his chin forward. Juliette had disappeared into the factory. “You two be look-out. We wouldn’t want someone finding us here, right?”

Benedikt scarcely had a second to argue back. Marshall was already hurrying off.

~

Inside the factory, Juliette trailed her hands along the dark walls, her eyes wide. The machines looked strange in the moonlight, but stranger while sitting so idle. She was used to seeing rows and rows of workers in the daytime, trailing after her father as he ran inspections on the work of their trade partners. It might have been the wine in her system, but everything seemed to sway: sitting so inactive in movement that her eyes were imagining movement.

“Pst.”

Juliette almost jumped out of her skin.

“Christ,” she muttered, whirling around with a hand on her heart. Marshall slunk out from the shadows, both his hands in his pockets. “You gave me a fright.”

“Me? Frightening?” Marshall picked up a strange object on the table, inspected it for several seconds, then set it back down. “I am the least frightening person on the planet.”

“Yes, well, when it’s so dark, even a cuddly teddy bear would be terrifying.” Juliette felt around her dress. She thought she had tucked her lighter in here somewhere. There were little pockets sewn around the sleeves and armholes that she kept all her weapons, though if anyone asked, she would say she had the ability to materialize them out of thin air.

“Do you scream often at teddy bears?”

“Only when they sneak up on me.”

“I don’t see you screaming at Roma.”

“He gets a special pass. He’s only a teddy bear on the inside.”

Marshall snorted. He leaned down, trying to read the paper taped down to the table. At last, Juliette found her lighter—it was actually in her sock—and she brought it close, thumbing down the sparkwheel for a flame.

“Do not touch—for demolishing,” Marshall read under the new light. “Are the Scarlets going to build something new here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Juliette replied. “My father doesn’t include me in his business meetings yet.”

“Hmm.” The shadows of the factory danced. Juliette thought she saw someone darting in her periphery, and she whirled around, but it was only Marshall’s shadow. Unfortunately, she had scared Marshall with her movement, and he bumped into her, asking, “What? What is it?”

The lighter flew out of her hands, landing on the paper.

“Nothing, nothing!” Juliette assured. “I was seeing things.”

But Marshall wasn’t convinced. He swiveled around. Peered hard into a corner. “Was it ghosts? I know this city has ghosts. All that death creates so many ghosts.”

Juliette tried to look where he was looking. She couldn’t see anything except the dark.

“There is no such thing as ghosts.”

“Just last week, I felt something walk by me and then there was no one when I looked. I swear to you, if it wasn’t ghosts then I—” Marshall stopped suddenly, turning around to look at the table. “Uh… is that supposed to happen?”

Juliette whirled around too. The whole table was on fire. “Oh, God.”

With a sudden pop, the fire sprung up and licked up to the walls. There had to be something sprayed inside the factory already to prepare for demolition, or else the flames would not be traveling with such intensive speed.

“Marshall,” Juliette said simply.

“Yes?”

She looked at him. “When the Montagovs ask, we blame the factory and say we have no idea what happened. Run!”

~

Benedikt and Roma kept watch in relative silence. Benedikt’s head was spinning, and his cousin looked like his head was doing the same if his swaying was any indication. Roma was humming softly under his breath, toeing the grass that grew around the abandoned factory.

Then, there was a sudden sound from inside, and the first tendrils of flames blew out from the topmost windows.

“Roma,” Benedikt said plainly. “I’m willing to bet my life savings that Juliette Cai just committed arson.”

Roma tilted his head up, his jaw dropping agape. At first, he could only stare at the growing fire, eating up the roof beams. Then, he said: “To be fair, it could have been Marshall.”

Benedikt threw his arms into the air. “Who looks more like the arson type, Juliette or Marshall?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“The answer was Juliette!”

Benedikt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was rapidly growing concerned, but before he could suggest they go in to search for the two, Juliette and Marshall ran out from the factory—laughing. The factory was burning down, and they were laughing, grasping at each other and spinning in circles right in front of the factory. They looked a sight: seconds away from collapsing atop of each other in utter delirium.

Benedikt turned to Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Roma was struggling to hold back his laugh watching her with Marshall. “I think she’s magnificent.”

Marshall stumbled, and Juliette squealed, reaching out to grab his arm before he could trip and land flat on his face. Benedikt almost—almost—let a smile slip. Before Roma could sight it and tease him for enjoying himself after all, he cleared his throat.

“What happened?” he bellowed.

“Faulty factory!” Marshall called back.

Benedikt shook his head, turning on his heel. They needed to get out of here before someone reported the fire.

“Come on!” he called back to the three. “Let’s go before the Municipal Police arrive.”

Upon Benedikt’s summons, Marshall left Juliette’s side and hurried to catch up. He slowed to a stroll once he was beside Benedikt, but Benedikt could feel Marshall watching him.

“What?” Benedikt asked. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his cousin was following too. Thankfully he was, though it was mostly Juliette hauling him along, their hands clasped together and swinging while Roma kept looking at the fire.

“I think you enjoyed yourself,” Marshall replied smugly. “After all that complaining about sneaking into Scarlet territory.”

Benedikt reached out and rapped his knuckles on Marshall’s skull. With a shriek, Marshall darted ahead.

“You want me to enjoy myself?” Benedikt shouted after him, breaking into a run too. “Come back then! Let me throttle you!”

FIN.

#these violent delights #romajuliette #benediktmarshall #how am i out here using my own book tags this feels weird FKJDHSDKJFH #should i tag my own name too #chloe gong #now i've gone and done it #bookblr #yabooks

[rcksmith]

Secret — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “For Five Hargreeves — can I get 97, 91 28 and 35 for a heavy smut? And 40 from fluff? If it isn’t too much trouble!”

“If it’s not too much trouble could I do 40,53 & 91 from the smut prompts for Five ty honey 💕”

Smut prompts:

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

35. “Try to keep quiet. We don’t want to get caught.”

40. “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.”

53. “Well, since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.

91. “guess i'll just have to cum in you then’

97. “You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

Fluff prompts:

40. “Come cuddle.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

Guys, I really understand who doesn’t feel comfortable reading or writing Five’s smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.//

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: explicit heavy smut, swearing, fluff too.

— — — — —

It was one of those warm nights, which carry a searing and heaving sensation in the back, which had a malicious tone in the air, which stirs your body to choose bad decisions, making your hands itch and your heart racing for something...intense. It was one of those hours that passed midnight, that breath was heavy with the expectation of something extraordinary, that skin prickled just with the images in mind.

And you were in that state. Heart pounding heavily, yearning for something, caustic breathing, the environment with an energy of lust. Well, at least you was like that.

Five did not share your line of reasoning, or, if he were not oblivious to the malicious moonlight that rose in the sky, he was pretending very well. Sipping a margarita at the bar in the Hargreeves mansion, with calculations in front of him taking all his attention. Normally, you loved that he focused on his own things. But now... you were seething with something that only Five could placate.

It was a few months ago that you went from just being friends with his siblings to someone he fucked hard at night. The sexual energy between the two of you was very strong, and it was very easy to make bad decisions when the bad decision in question was so fucking hot.

Five Hargreeves did things to you. You wouldn't know how to explain it with clear phrases, but his gaze made you shiver, his body made a very specific part in the middle of your legs vibrate, and his voice and that self-centered smile... God!

It was no accident that you surrendered. You would have surrendered to that battle a million times.

“Five.” You sighed softly, taking a sip from your own drink. “Can't you do this tomorrow?”

“No. I am close to solving this.”

You controlled yourself not to roll your eyes. You were never the most needy type, especially with people as reserved as Five, but, damn it, you were on fire. It was logical that you could go out and choose someone to placate that, but that would trigger many things between Five and you. He hated that you were with someone else, even though he himself didn't assuming out to you.

It are a delicate situation, you were friends with all the Hargreeves siblings, and it would be a racket if they knew that their brother was fucking one of theys best friends.

The warm evening breeze came in through the window and collided with the chill of the drink running down your throat, awakening even more lustful anxieties.

“Five..." You purred, got up from the armchair on the counter, still behind Five and slid your hands over his shoulders "Maybe...you might want to finish this later.” You whispered at the foot of his ear.

Even without seeing him, you could feel that he was letting go of one of his arrogant and malicious smiles. Five rotated the seat to be face to face with you, his legs spread wider to accommodate you between them.

“And what are you going to do to distract me?” That same defiant, boastful voice.

But the look he gave you made a shock of desire reverberate through your body. Five wanted to play? Okay, you were going to play a game whit him.

“Why did you…” you leaned forward gently, resting one hand on his hot thigh, leaving your cleavage exposed “don't try guess?”

You realized that he had swallowed hard, even though his posture had remained unwavering. Five looked down at you cleavage, waist, and slightly elevated butt. You approached him a few more inches, your mouth a breath away, the heat of the bodies being shared without even touching.

Five could drive you crazy and screaming, but you knew it could also drive him insanity.

When you leaned over a little more and your mouths were so close to meet, you changed the direction and reached out with your free hand to pick up Five's margarita behind him. You straightened up and away, with a mischievous smile on your lips that revealed that everything had gone as planned.

Five semi closed his eyes at you, a fiery glow going through his eyes.

“Do you want to play with me?”His voice was low, dangerous “You know what happens to you when you challenge me.”

It was a warning, clear and resonant. You were a good girl for Five because you knew the strength that he could fuck you. Fuck, he could break you if he want. But now you were sexually frustrated, aroused, with a racing heart and wheezing from the expectation of something.

A night of bad decisions.

“You don't want to get out of your equations.” You turned your voice into something innocent, soft, provocative, and the strong breath that Five drew was a small victory for you "I guess I'll just get off all by myself."

Your smile was malicious, causticante, but as soon as Five got up from that chair, the perfect posture, much taller than you, and was slowly towards you, like a predator with its prey, you knew you were screwed.

“Do you want to come this much?” His fingers passed gently over your warm neck, and you let out a breath with that stupid touch.

Five moved closer, your chest glued to his, the hot, citrusy breath of alcohol hitting your nose. Something wetted you panties, making you bite the inside of your cheeks to keep from sighing any louder.

“Would you use your little toy thinking about the times that I fucked you so hard that you couldn't walk the next day?”

That was too much for your already sensitive system. Those words went directly to the thread that connected your heart and its pulsating nucleus, causing a burning note to reverberate.

“Five...”the sigh came out, while the memories of Five using your vibrator to push you to the limit, while him fucking you brutally, prowled like a wild beast in your mind.

Five slid the fingers from your neck to your cleavage, brushing the tips of her fingers across the flesh of your breasts. Five stuffed his forefinger into your cleavage and pulled you to him.

You moaned softly, in a purr.

“Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" The whispered floated in your ear, while you put down the margarita at the bar and held your hands in his arms.

You bit your bottom lip, your panties soaked, your heart beating fast in your chest, the atmosphere more wild and fiery.

“You want this?” Five slowly lowered a strap from your blouse, each second speeding up your heart even more.

“Yes...” You sighed “I really want to, please.”

Then Five's touch got rougher and he held your chin firmly, lifting you face to look him in the eye.

“Beg.” It was an order, but your body was sending millions of feelings to you that you were lost for a second "beg!”

“P-please.” You looked at him pleadingly “Fuck me so badly, please.”

His grip got stronger.

“Once again.” Now the other hand slid roughly over your body, squeezing your waist, thigh, ass, anything that Five could mark as his property.

“Please, I'm begging you to eat me.” You really were, your body needed more, and there was no denying it.

So in the blink of an eye, the blue flash swallowed you both up and took you to his room. You were dizzy for a second, you were not used to his tricks. But Five used it as a bonus and stuck his lips to yours, stunning you with the strong taste of alcohol, desire and lust.

You moaned softly, your hands working to free him from his clothes, your lips corresponding to the battle. You managed to strip off his shirt layers and fade his pants, but Five didn't have the same patience as you. He didn't wait to undress you, he tore the thin fabric and opened your bra hungry, in a hurry, as if you were his last meal.

In a second his hot mouth was on your breast, sucking and nibbling at the needy skin aggressively, his fierce hands pulling you out of the other pieces of clothing. Five was not delicate, loving and caring, he conquered, took, owned, his goal was to devour you until his savagery was sated.

“Fi-Five!” You moaned loudly, your naked body now shaking with desire, your heart exploding in your chest.

You would have said something more if Five hadn't pushed you to the bed and made you fall into it. He pulled your legs apart, exposing you completely to him. His eyes burned with a dangerous and brutal fire, and Five slapped down the inside of your thigh. You screamed, arching your back, your hands closing on the sheet.

“Well, since you want to cum so badly…” Five climbed on top of you, his mouth proving the point where he had hit you “why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.”

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, his mouth was right in the middle of your pulsating core. Eating, sucking, tasting everything you willingly offered to him so much. You moaned, or screamed, your hands tightly squeezing the sheet, digging your nails into the fabric.

Five ate you at an undisturbed pace, as if you were the last meal in the desert, clasping his hands on your waist to keep you immobile, sinking his mouth deeper into you. His tongue opened its yours walls, circled her clitoris and sucked there, leaving a hot trail of spittle. You moaned loudly, your waist trying to fight the firm grip of his hands to roll in him mouth. You felt a thread about to burst inside you and your heart started to race in your chest.

“F-Five!” You screamed when he sucked your clitoris, and he could feel you pulsing in his mouth, signaling that you were close.

“Come for me, little slut.”

The vibration of his voice in your sensitive flesh was the trigger you needed, you came intensely, your legs wobbly, your breathing heavy, but Five didn't wait for you to finish coming before climbing on top of you, lowering his pants and underwear enough and brutally get inside you in a fraction of a second.

You groaned loudly, your hands clasping his bare shoulders, your walls hypersensitive to the end of the orgasm that was still breaking free. It was too much for you, your eyes stung with tears, your heart was racing a marathon in your chest, and your whole body was shaking.

Five doesn't give you a second to get used to it, or to get down from the sensation of your orgasms, he set a rough, hard, badly rhythm, entering inside you in penetrations that pushed your body upwards. You spread your legs wider and wrapped them around Five's waist, your chest glued to his chest, skin-to-skin contact being the extra to drive you crazy.

It was too much for you to take, too much for your hypersensitive body. Five silenced your broken moans with toxic kisses.

“Try to keep quiet. We don’t want to get caught.” His voice was hoarse, breathy, broken, Five drives his dick so deep inside you as possible with every word.

“I...I can't...”You whimpered in his mouth, clasping your hands in Five's hot flesh, sobbing at the strength he put in you, you needed more.

“So let's take care of it.”

Five released an aggressive and rough hickey on your neck, putting an arm around your waist, sticking every inch of their bodies together, and his free hand covered your mouth, drowning out yours screams. You thought it was going to placate his hard rhythm, but Five started pulling your waist down, against his dick, and sinking deeper inside you.

“You wanted me to fuck you, didn't you?” Five snarled, looking into yours watery eyes "Now take it, fuck!."

His dirty words only led you further towards the second abyss. Five fucked you so hard that you couldn't answer, let alone whit the heavy hand on your mouth. Yours hands sank into the skin on his back, yours legs pulling him hips towards you, desperate to placate what was about to burst.

Five could feel yours tight walls throbbing on his dick, signaling that you were going to come any second. He groaned loudly, clenching his teeth on the skin of your neck so as not to make a noise, thrusting his dick as deep as possible into you. He replaced the hand in your mouth with his own lips, swallowing yours moans and trying to keep the sounds of you both low.

“I ... I'm going to...” You cried with pleasure, pain, desire, his rhythm hurt but it gave you so much hunger and pleasure that you could feel the liquid of your arousal soaking his dick.

Five looked at you in a way full of lust and with a very desire to break you. Oh he wanted to destroy you.

He came out of you, making you let out a loud moan of frustration and tears streaming from yours eyes. You whimpered loudly, and Five switched positions and pulled you hard into his lap, giving you no time to straighten up before he pushed his dick into you and aggressively stuck both hands to your waist.

You bit your lip hard to keep from screaming, trembling hands resting on his chest as Five pulled you up and down brutally, thrusting his dick in as deep as possible in you. He did not contain an aggressive groan at the sight of yours breasts jumping on his face, body sweaty and marked by fingers and hickeys, the inside of yours thighs already red by the force that Five shocked the body in you.

“Pl ... please!”

You begged, your face smeared with mascara and tears, your lips red from raw kisses, your hair sweaty. You looked like a goddess and Five wanted even more to destroy you.

“Do you want to come?” His voice was breathless, hoarse, fierce.

You nodded frantically, looking at Five with beg, begging him to let you come. It seemed to have an overwhelming effect on him. Five slapped your ass down, raising his hand to your back and pulling you forward, making your chest lie on his while the rhythm reached new places.

You bit his shoulder to keep from screaming, tears streaming down your face.

“If you come in this position, I will not control myself.” He snarled at you.

“I do not mind!” You begged, moving your waist to match his rhythm.

“Guess i'll just have to cum in you then” Then Five kissed you, hard, bad, dropped a hand to your clitoris and applied the trigger you needed to collapse.

You sank your mouth into the skin of his neck to muffle your scream, and soon a hot, thick liquid was filling you to the brim, taking up every inch inside you. You whimpered loudly against Five, hims hips doing the final thrusts to make sure the cum was filling you, his warm hands loosening the aggressive grip.

You both breathed loudly, your legs were shaking, your hair was stuck to your face and it took you two minutes to lift your face and look at Five. He gave you an arrogant smile of ‘I said I was going to break you and I broke’ and you laughed softly.

“I don't think I can get up.” You laughed, and Five removed a lock of hair from your face. “Do you think they heard us?”

“They certainly heard you.” He scoffed.

“Coming from your room.” You snapped and Five laughed, hims chest still heaving and heaving, covered in a mist of sweat.

“Fuck them.” Five said, gently pulling your hips up, pulling the dick out of you, making you sigh a broken moan. “You are so sensitive!” He said between his teeth, as if he had never been satisfied with you.

You laughed, and shook your head, exposing your neck full of purple tick marks.

“You know…” Five took his index finger to the marks, delicately skirting them “you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

You pushed his shoulder slightly, rolling your eyes.

“Can we take a shower together?” Five nodded at you question. “ and…”

“And?”

“You know ...” yours cheeks became more flushed "Come cuddle."

Five laughed, his eyes tame now, an open smile and satisfied energy.

“We can.” he smiled and you gave him a passionate kiss on the lips.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five x you #five hargreeves imagine #five x reader #five fanfiction #five x y/n #number 5 imagine #number 5 x you #number 5 #number 5 x reader #number five fanfic #number five x you #number five x reader #number five smut #tua smut #number 5 smut #smut #tua five #tua fanfic #tua s3 #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy fanfiction #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 7 (aka the ‘big boobie vampire mommy’ and ’mutant servant girl that is very horny for her’ chapter)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below:)

“Good evening, sir. Is there something I can assist you with, tonight? It’s quite late, and my mistress has already retired for the evening due to the strenuous nature of today’s events, so while I’m sure the good Lady Dimitrescu won’t be too terribly displeased if you’ve come with urgent news that requires her immediate attention, I’m afraid anything outside the realm of absolute importance will have to wait until morning, when my mistress will be better rested and therefore better able to address whatever concern you’ve brought” The low and smooth voice of an older teenage girl said, staring slightly downward at Salvatore with a level of such blank indifference that he would have wondered if the girl hadn’t seen him had she not outright greeted him upon opening the door.

With piercing red eyes, dark skin and long, black curls tied up neatly and carefully into two thick buns on either side of the top of her head, and dressed in a pretty, but still practical dress, the older teen looked every bit as much the role of a dignified estate’s head servant as she acted, right down to the pencil straight stiffness of her body. Despite how uncomfortable the stiff position looked to Salvatore, the subtly bold way she carried herself did give the older teen an air of confidence and reliability, however what it didn’t do was answer the multitude of questions flying around in Salvatore’s head about who she was, and more importantly, where she came from.

And then it hit him.

“Y-you’re… Alcina’s g-gift… aren’t y-you?” Salvatore asks aloud, though seemingly more to himself than the girl standing in front of him. Said girl furrows her brows in confusion for a moment before huffing in, what appeared to be, mild offense. Though what on earth Salvatore could have done to offend the young teen, he had absolutely no idea.

“I have no idea what you mean when talking about these so called “gifts”, however I think it's important for you to know that I am a very busy woman with a great many things to do, so if this is all some kind of sick game you’re playing to waste my time then I’m going to have to politely ask that you take your rotten whale behind and go throw yourself into the nearest body of-”

“Anastasia?” a low, feminine voice booms from somewhere behind the older teen standing before him. The girl immediately stiffens, her skin around her nose and cheeks darkening even further, her eyes growing wide and her breath catching in her throat as she turns around. Immediately abandoning Salvatore at the still open front door, the young servant clumsily made her way further into the room before disappearing out of the narrow view the hooded man had been given of the castle through the crack in the door.

Taking a step forward and opening the door enough to slip inside, making sure to close it securely behind him, Salvatore lingered along the walls of the room, merely observing the events before him unfold as the young girl, Anastasia, quickly moved to stand in the center of the circular design on the floor of the entrance hall. Waiting for her on the landing at the top of the stairs was none other than the lady of the house herself, Alcina Dimitrescu, standing as tall, proud, and intimidating as Salvatore last remembers, though it would appear that the disfigured man’s fear of the much larger woman was not shared amongst everyone in the room.

“Y-yes Lady Dimitrescu! Is there something I can do for you this evening, my Lady?” Anastasia asks, hands clasped together in front of her and eyes blown wide at the gargantuan woman leering from above, like a lovesick puppy dog waiting for a command from its beloved owner. Eager to perform. Eager to please.

“Why yes, my sweet, I was just wondering what on earth all that racket was and if it could wait until morning to be finished? The girls and I have had quite the taxing day and I do so wish to retire to the sound of peace and quiet” Alcina coos warmly, causing Salvatore to pause in confusion.

“Oh goodness, I apologize, mistress. It’s just that there was a visitor at the door and despite my repeated attempts to convince him to come back when you were rested, he insisted upon making a nuisance of himself. Please forgive me if my attempts to preserve your restful evening were for naught” the girl said sadly, bowing deeply in apology as she continued to speak.

Alcina practically purrs in delight at the teen’s polite, but genuine behavior. “Fear not, my dear, I had only just taken off my earrings when I heard the commotion. I came out here merely to see if things were getting out of control, but it would appear as though you’ve handled things perfectly.”

The girlish blush on Anastasia’s face only darkens in color as the young teen casts her adoring gaze to the floor, joyous glee from having been praised by her mistress evident all over the younger girl’s body.

Not wanting to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary, especially if this is what he’d have to witness the whole time, Salvatore gathers all of his strength and uses it to clear his throat and take a step forward, revealing himself to both women as he gingerly comes out into the light.

“YOU!” Anastasia yells, immediately turning on her heel and making a beeline toward the increasingly anxious Salvatore. “So not only have you made enough of a nuisance of yourself to disturb the lovely Lady Dimitrescu just as she’s about to retire and rest from a very long and taxing day, but now you’ve decided that you’re so above everyone else that you can just waltz right into someone else’s home without even the slightest hint of respect or admiration for the incredible woman living in it, how dare you be so crash and selfish you overcooked blowfish, exit this castle immediately, or I’ll shove my boot so far up your rear end you’ll be fishing around for it for weeks you-”

“Anastasia, calm yourself, dear” the loud, but calming sound of Alcina’s voice said, causing the young teen to pause in her angry scolding of Salvatore.

“My Lady?” The young teen asks, dutifully awaiting orders.

“Let the wretched man inside, he’s the furthest thing from a threat to us, even if he is an annoying little manthing. Although, I’d be lying if I said a visit from you at this hour of night is something I’ve come to expect of you, dearest elder brother.”

The disfigured man swallowed thickly as he stepped past Anastasia to fully face his other younger sister, who looked all the more intimidating from her looming perch upon the upper story.

“I-I know this is s-sudden…” Salvatore begins, hoping he’d at least be able to explain himself before Alcina tossed him back outside on his ass.

“I’ll certainly say” Anastasia bursts in angrily, but she’s quickly silenced and sent away to tend to her other duties by Alcina, who motions for Salvatore to ascend the large set of stairs leading up to the rest of the castle and join her on the landing for a moment.

“Spunky little thing, isn’t she?” Alcina says when Salvatore finally makes it to the top of the stairs, panting slightly as he follows the much taller mutant’s gaze to the door that Anastasia had just exited the room from.

“Th-that’s certainly… one way… o-of putting it” Salvatore stutters, not wanting to offend Alcina by calling her servant rude, but clearly not seeing what’s so great about someone who just yells at you a lot the second you walk through the door.

“Yes! She apparently received a strain of cadou that was quite similar to mine, however her need to consume blood to maintain herself is far more similar to that of leeches. Rather than having to consume it regularly in smaller doses, like myself, she’ll only require one feeding every few weeks or so, which I thought was quite interesting. The only issues Mother Miranda brought up was the fact that her hunger, if it gets bad enough, can trigger both her transformation, as well as some sort of feral and animalistic meltdown that only ends once she’s finally had her fill. Apparently more than a few villagers were lost in the process of learning this information” Alcina comments casually, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Mother only brought her over earlier today, just before dinner, and yet she’s already managed to carve quite the little space for herself here. I hadn’t realized how dirty this place was without any girls left to take from the village until she went through and washed all the walls in the west wing spotless. It was like night and day, I could hardly believe how open and bright the halls looked” Alcina stated.

“W-wow… so th-then… d-do you think y-you’ll keep her a-around… long term?” Salvatore asks curiously, craning his neck so he could get a better look at his sister’s face.

“Perhaps. I’m certainly thinking about it. Not only is she an incredibly hard and fast worker, but she’s also got such a lovely spark of energy and excitement to her, and she’s always very polite and respectful, if a bit obvious in her “admiration” of those she looks up to… not that that’s a bad thing, necessarily. It’s quite sweet, actually!”

“S-she did look… q-quite taken… by y-you” Salvatore comments, having noticed the girl’s far-too-eager-to-be-innocent disposition when Alcina was in the room, vs. when it was just him. Not that it was a terribly surprising turn of events. Alcina, for all her monstrous height and sheer mutant bulk, was still a very beautiful, and very desirable woman at the end of the day, meanwhile Salvatore was only about 2 rolls of the genetic dice away from sharing a more recent common ancestor with the blobfish than he did humans.

“I know, isn’t she adorable? She came exactly like this, too. Mother Miranda has no idea if this is a result of the mutation process or if it's merely her former personality finally returning now that she’s awake and out of containment, but I suppose the logistics of things aren’t really important in the end. I'm so glad I chose her over the other two, I don’t know what I would have done had such a promising and delectable little morsel like her go to waste on the rest of you imbeciles” Alcina coos in amusement. “Regardless of what Mother Miranda said however, I was almost certain this whole “gift” situation was going to be nothing more than a pile of useless drivel that I’d be left to clean up all on my own once the novelty wore off, however after having Anastasia here for these past few hours, and seeing all that she’s willing and capable of doing, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps I’d been too hasty in my final decision.”

“Funny… K-Karl thought m-much the… th-the same thing i-initially… w-when I t-talked to him… th-the other day… th-though… knowing him… I doubt h-he’s having q-quite as much… of a ch-change of heart… as you a-are” Salvatore said suddenly, more than anything due to the incredible shock that was the concept of Alcina and Karl sharing a similar opinion, at the same time, while both occupying the same dimension of reality.

Alcina’s face immediately turns sour at the mention of Karl. “Oh, did he now? That’s an unfortunate thing to learn,” she says in annoyance, clearly displeased by the notion of agreeing with Karl on anything.

“Y-yes… he… he th-thinks that maybe… M-Mother might b-be using the g-gifts… to d-distract us w-while she’s g-gone away… o-on her mission… b-but that maybe… sh-she also wants… s-something else out of a-all this… something… th-that she isn’t t-telling us… f-for some reason” Salvatore explains, unsure if he should be revealing all this information to Alcina, notorious and open critic of Karl and quite literally everything the younger man has ever done and said, is doing and saying, and will do and say sometime in the span of his chaotic lifespan.

Contrary to what Salvatore assumed, however, instead of looking bored and uninterested in what Karl thought about this whole situation, Alcina looked just the slightest bit… intrigued, if still clearly wary. “Really? And what, pray tell, does our dear sweet little brother Heisenberg believe will come of this whole situation then? Did he say?”

“H-he… he never m-mentioned anything s-specific… but he th-thinks that the g-gifts… might p-play a l-larger role… in all th-this… than M-Mother has been l-leading us to believe.”

“I see,” Alcina says, remaining silent for a moment as she thinks, looking almost concerned by what she’s heard. “And what do you think of this whole mess, Salvatore?”

“U-um… well… I-I think it’s nice… th-that Mother trusts us e-enough… to g-give us her p-previous experiments… and u-use them however w-we want… b-but I’d be l-lying if I s-said… that I d-didn’t think Karl… was o-onto something… I-I don’t know w-what I believe to be t-true a-at the moment… but I d-do know… th-that I’d like t-to give… g-give a gift of m-my own… to Nadine… and that… and that y-you might be… s-someone else who c-could help me… w-with that” the hooded man explains nervously, hoping that Alcina was in a good enough mood to feel like humoring him and his sudden request.

“Nadine?” The tall, pale woman asks in confusion, before suddenly nodding in understanding. “Ah, your gift…”

Salvatore nods. “D-Donna… is f-fashioning a n-new dress… for her… a-and even gave me… this b-beautiful nightgown… to hold h-her over until… until the real one is c-complete. I th-think she w-will… e-enjoy the nightgown b-but… but I’d like to… l-like to get her something else t-too… like a… like a necklace… a-a gold one… o-one that w-would… c-complement her skin tone… j-just right.”

Alcina briefly stares at Salvatore with a blank expression, momentarily making the hooded man worry that he’d overstepped his boundaries and said something to offend the much larger woman. His nerves are thankfully calmed when Alcina turns and orders Salvatore to follow after her, which the disfigured man happily does if it means what he thinks it means.

The two siblings arrive at Alcina’s personal chambers just as Anastasia is exiting them, her arms filled by a large basket of blood soaked towels and clothes, some collected from Alcina’s room, the others likely from either Bela, Cassandra, or Daniela’s rooms.

“Good evening, Lady Dimitrescu! Are you finally retiring for the evening?” Anastasia asks, bowing cheerfully as she finally notices her mistress approaching her. “I’ve already gone ahead and prepared your bed for you, as well as collected all the soiled laundry from today’s harvest. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Thank you, my dear, but not quite, I have one more matter to attend to before I fully turn in. Since you were so kind to offer however, I would greatly appreciate it if, once Lord Moreau and I are finished with our affairs, you would be so kind as to escort him to the front door and bid him a good night, for me. You are free to retire to your own chambers for the evening once he’s left” Alcina orders softly, which the young girl obediently nods her head to.

“Of course, mistress, thank you very much! And I’d be happy to see Lord Moreau out for you, so please don’t hesitate to call me once you’re finished with your meeting” Anastasia says, bowing lowly to both Alcina and Salvatore before wordlessly skittering off to do… whatever it was she planned on doing to those dirty garments.

“Now, about that gift you were talking about” Alcina says upon entering her personal bedroom, immediately striding over to her vanity and beginning to sift through several boxes worth of jewelry, “you said you wanted gold, correct? And a necklace specifically?”

“Y-yes! I-if you have anything y-you’re willing to… g-give away… of course… I’d feel t-terrible taking something i-if it meant a g-great deal to you” Salvatore answers, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he waits for Alcina to return to him with whatever she finds.

Of all 3 of his siblings, Alcina was the one Salvatore was easily the least close to, despite having been the only two around for a considerable amount of time before the eventual arrivals of both Donna and then Karl. It wasn’t that Salvatore was displeased when Mother Miranda first informed him that he’d be getting a “sibling” all those years ago, but Alcina’s natural personality, coupled with her terrifying size and strength from the mutations, had made the very meek and timid Salvatore hesitant to reach out and form any kind of sibling bond with the younger woman, like he had with Karl.

Karl was a royal pain in the ass to deal with on even his best days, but at the end of it all, there’s still only so much a 6 year old can do to you, anger issues and mutant metal bending powers or not. Alcina was both a royal pain in the ass to deal with more often than not, but also a fully grown adult when she first joined the family, so needless to say the 2 oldest siblings hadn’t been given very many appropriately opportune moments to bond or get along.

That being said however, the simple but elegant golden locket that Alcina procures from one of her many boxes of jewelry has Salvatore wondering if maybe he had misjudged Alcina, having never expected her to show him something as luxurious and real-looking as this, especially when the understanding was that she’d be giving it away whatever item of jewelry Salvatore took a liking to.

“This is an old locket I received for my 3rd birthday from a relative who died long before I was old enough to care about who they were, though all those diamond star details on the front do make me think they could have been close with us at one point, or perhaps they just had that much money to throw around? It’s an old and well-loved piece of my collection, but Duke has been bringing back such wonderful treasures from his travels that I just have to start getting rid of some of these old sentimental trinkets so I can make room for all the new additions I plan on purchasing once he finally returns” Alcina explains, gingerly handing the necklace over to Salvatore, who could do nothing but gawk at how extravagant and, to be perfectly honest, expensive the necklace looked.

With 4 small diamonds, likely real knowing Alcina, embedded into the surface of the locket’s front cover, surrounded by small engravings that give the glimmering stones the appearance of stars in the night sky, the necklace looked like it belonged upon the neck of a fair and noble princess, into which the radiant beauty could then place the photo of the man who’d stollen her innocent heart. Nadine wasn’t actually a princess and Salvatore all but gagged at the idea of a picture of his face, mutated or not, being put somewhere for anyone to see, however the necklace was far too perfect for the hooded man to possibly turn it down.

“So what do you think? Will something like this do?” The taller woman asks, curiously. “I could continue looking if that isn’t quite what you’re after, however if that is the case, then I would like to politely request that you come back and look at them tomorrow. It's already so late and I’d have to have the rest of my collection fetched from the vault downstairs.”

“N-no no… th-that’s alright… this i-is perfect… thank y-you… Alcina… this w-was very k-kind of you to do… f-for me” Salvatore says, carefully tucking the glittering necklace into the bag Donna had placed the nightgown in.

“Don’t fret about it too much, I only did it because I had a bit of time to spare prior to going to bed, and you happened to catch me in a good mood. That’s it” Alcina states firmly, though something in the back of Salvatore’s head can’t help but take the taller woman’s words with a grain of salt, feeling as though there was more to Alcina’s sudden generosity than just pure coincidence. “Besides, who knows what gaudy thing you’d have shown up with had you not made the surprisingly wise decision to invoke Donna’s and my vastly superior knowledge of the feminine experience. I don’t even want to think of what tacky little trinket you’d have tried to gift her. Why the thought of that alone is enough to make me want to run for the hills, how on earth do you think your poor little gift would have felt? I’d have had to murder you on the spot if I found out you tried to pass some disgusting pile of garbage off as an appropriate gift. In fact, if I didn’t know that Donna was working on a more fitting dress for her already, I’d have half a mind to skin you alive for only having a flimsy nightgown to take back with you, but I doubt any of the dresses I have, that would be appropriate to wear with that kind of necklace anyways, would come close to fitting her, and I really do want to start making room for some newer, more exciting pieces. So, with all that in mind, count your blessings that the stars have aligned in your favor tonight, dear brother, because I won’t be doing this for you again… unless, you’d be willing to do me a few favors in exchange for some of the other pieces of my collection, that is.”

Aaaaaaaaaaand there’s the Alcina that Salvatore knows and secretly likes. In vehement denial that she feels anything positive for her 3 siblings and also actively trying to get someone else to do her dirty work for her. It's certainly not how the hooded man prefers to operate, but he supposes that if Alcina can somehow convince everyone around her to do all of her work for her, why wouldn’t she take advantage of that as much as possible?

“I-I think that’s e-enough… for t-tonight actually… maybe i-if I decide I’d l-like to get her s-something else… I’ll c-consider that offer y-you brought up” Salvatore says, bowing politely to his sister as he makes his desire to leave obvious.

Thankfully, Alcina seems more than happy to send her older brother on his way, calling Anastasia to come lead Salvatore back to the front door so he could finally begin making his way home.

“Th-thank you again… Alcina… I really a-appreciate this… an-and I'm sure Nadine w-will love the gift t-too” Salvatore says just as he’s about to bid Alcina goodnight and begin following the young servant girl.

“Yes, yes, you’re very grateful of my wondrous kindness to you, I know, you’ve made that fact more than clear already, brother” the taller woman says with an only mildly annoyed roll of her eyes as she stands just outside the door to her chambers. “Just make sure you don’t waste the opportunity my graciousness has afforded you, do you understand?”

Salvatore stiffens nervously as Alcina shoots him a pointed look that screams ‘don’t fuck this up or I’ll fuck you up’, a threat which the hooded man knows she’ll make good on, should Salvatore make it necessary for her to do so. Salvatore wasn’t sure how Alcina had picked up on the nature of his budding affections for Nadine so quickly, or how she seemed to instinctively know what he was planning despite having never asked directly, but clearly she’d noticed something and was now in the process of making the matter of whether Salvatore successfully courted his gift her business.

Heavens above have mercy upon whomever is unlucky enough to have their problematic situation noticed and meddled with by Alcina Dimitrescu.

“Y-yes… I u-understand… an-and I’ll be s-sure not to w-waste... waste the g-golden opportunity you’ve g-given me… OH! An-and Donna w-wants her mannequins b-back... too… sh-she wanted m-me to tell y-you” Salvatore replies, his anxiety only mildly calmed when Alcina makes a face at the mention of Donna’s yet-to-be-returned-still mannequins.

“Oh for goodness sakes, I always forgot about those stupid things. Anastasia?”

“Yes, Mistress?” The young servant dutifully answers.

“Please make a note to remind me to have Heisenberg come by so he can collect and return the manequins Donna leant me while I was commissioning some dresses from her earlier this month. That foul-mouthed mutt owes me a favor, and so if all goes the way I’d like I’ll be making this his problem in the morning” Alcina says devilishly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course, Lady Dimitrescu, I’ll be sure to remind you of that first thing tomorrow morning” Anastasia replies warmly, though her amicable grin is quickly replaced by a flush and a girlish giggle when Alcina waves and turns on her heel, swaying her hips in an obvious fashion before bending down to enter through the door of her chambers.

Salvatore passed exceptionally confused glances back and forth between his sister and the young servant standing in front of him, totally clueless as to what just unfolded a moment ago as a feeling of disgust, the kind you get when you see something you wish you hadn’t, began to curl in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it was that was going on in the Dimitrescu house, and more importantly with their new servant girl, it was clearly none of Salvatore’s business. Not that he’d wanted it to be in the first place.

Salvatore had enough problems to deal with regarding his own gift, he didn’t have time to worry about whether or not Alcina was already making moves on hers.

“Have a safe journey home, and do make sure to stop by with Nadine if things turn out well between the two of you. Based on how today played out, it would seem as though things are about to get a lot more interesting around here… and a lot more fun too. Goodnight, Dear Brother” is all Alcina says before gently closing the door to her chambers, effectively ending their conversation without so much as a single word from Salvatore, not that he minded being handed the chance to finally get out of here, especially after… whatever the hell that exchange between Alcina and Anastasia was.

Best not to think too hard about it, probably, especially when there was another woman back at the reservoir who was much more deserving of Salvatore’s lustful and impure musings.

“Uuum… the front door is this way… Lord Moreau,” Anastasia says suddenly, her face still dark from embarrassment, though whether it was from her earlier treatment of him before she learned he was another Lord and not just some random man from the village, or from… that thing he just saw that he doesn’t feel like thinking about anymore, the hooded man couldn’t tell.

Nor did he particularly care to find out.

#Salvatore moreau #resident evil #resident evi 8 #Resident evil village #Resident evil 8 village #resident evil 8: village #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #mother miranda #re #re8 #salvatore moreau x reader #Moreau x reader #salvatore Moreau x oc #Moreau x oc #fic #Mine #beauty and her beast #Chapter 7 #The duke #the duke re8

[abiggaynerd]

Light in the night

Another fanfic of @quetzalcoatlzz ‘s western au comic, link here if you would rather read it on AO3, there is a link here

Charlie looked out her window from her bed. It was clear out, and she could see the moon. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. She could not sleep. 

It was silent. 

She closed her eyes. It had been a long day. One of her girls had gotten sick, and she had had to contact Maxwell’s new boytoy and have him take care of her. She would be fine, the doctor had assured, but Charlie couldn’t help worrying. 

On top of that, a letter had come from her parents. 

Charlie’s family was never rich, but she was still sheltered. Her older sister and her parents had worked extremely hard to help her become a proper lady. They had been thrilled she had secured such a wealthy man. After the... incident, she had promised her parents they would marry when they reached Constant, ignoring their protests that traveling with a man she was not married too would be scandalous. She felt terrible for deceiving them, but she could not tell them the truth- she was not a pampered mistress of the Carter ranch, but Madame of a whorehouse. This was not at all what they had wanted for her. 

The only one who knew the truth- about her and Maxwell’s... preferences, about the broken off engagement, all of it- was her dear sister Winona. Winona understood everything- Charlie knew that the relationship with the female friend Winona was living with was not exactly chaste. Winona had urged her to tell their parents, at least about the broken off engagement, if nothing else, but Charlie still couldn’t work up the courage to tell them. In her (extremely rare) visits home, Maxwell would even come with her and lie. She was jealous of the close and open relationship he had with his family- they knew of their broken engagement, and the reasons, and had accepted it. Darling Wendy still called her Aunt, when she saw her, though. 

She looked at the unopened letter on her nightstand. Every time she got one, she was terrified they had found out- if they heard about everything... 

It would be better for her mental state to open it, but she found she could not. The letter opener lay on top of it, taunting her. 

THONK

Charlie jumped wildly and yelped as someone banged into her window. 

“CHARLIE!! YOU AWAKE?” 

Charlie rolled her eyes as she calmed down. She opened the window. “How could I not be, after that racket?” 

Willow grinned. “Can I come in?” Charlie nodded, and Willow began to try to get in through the window. 

“Not through the window! Through the door! Honestly, Willow, it’s like you’re a secret lover trying to catch a moment alone with your beloved without alerting her parents.” 

“I am,” Willow said cheerfully. “Except the parents part.” 

“Exactly, which is why you can come through the door. This is my house.” 

Willow grumbled, but went to the door to be let in. Charlie lit a candle, put on a robe, and walked through the rooms to get to the back door. 

“Kiss?” Willow asked, taking off her hat. She helpfully pointed at her lips to indicate where they were. 

“Very well,” Charlie said. She leaned over and pecked Willow on the lips, but before she could pull away, Willow deepened the kiss and put her hand on the back on Charlie’s head. Charlie relaxed into it. Being with Willow calmed her spirits. 

Charlie pulled away when it became apparent Willow had no problem having sex right where they were. “Come along, dear.” 

“It’s a bit chilly tonight,” Willow remarked, scampering after Charlie. “Just, incredibly cold. I’ve never seen it get this bad, really. You might freeze to death.” 

Willow cut in front of Charlie to open her bedroom door for her. Charlie smiled. “If you’re asking if you can make a fire in my room, you may.” 

“Yess,” Willow said, no regard for her noise level. She took Charlie’s candle and began fussing with the fireplace. It really had grown slightly chilly with the window open. Charlie closed it, as well as the curtains. 

“Where is Bernie?” Charlie asked, taking off her robe and climbing back into bed. 

“Maxwell has nice stables,” Willow said. 

“You walked all the way here from Maxy’s stables?? Why Willow, you must be exhausted!” 

“Any amount of exhaustion is worth it if I can inconvenience Maxwell,” Willow said. “Besides, he’s got great food for the horses. Bernie likes it there.” 

“Do you need food? A drink?” 

“I just need you,” Willow said, about to climb on Charlie’s bed. 

“Absolutely not! No, Willow, if you want to get on my bed with my good linens, you’re going to take a bath first.” 

Willow grimaced. “Really? Do I have to?” 

“Yes! But here, don’t make that face. I’ll wash you myself.” 

“...Fine.” 

“Come, help me set up the tub.” 

Having Willow to help lug around the heavy tub and buckets of water made the whole experience much faster. Willow was much stronger than Charlie, and had the added bonus of “liked to show off.” 

“Alright,” Charlie said. “Get in.” 

Willow seemed to have forgotten the bath was for her. She frowned. “What if I washed you instead?” 

“You don’t have to sleep with me, you know,” Charlie teased. “You can sleep on my floor. I can find a blanket.” 

Willow threw back her head and groaned. “FINE.” She threw off her clothes. Charlie watched appreciatively. 

Willow was not what most people considered attractive for a woman, but Charlie didn’t hold much stock in their opinions. Willow was toned, from hours of manual labor and horseback riding. She wore no corset, but instead wore nothing but men’s clothes. Her breasts, unlike Charlie’s, were small enough to need no support. She was thin, but strong. Her beautiful black hair was thick and shiny, if you ignored the layers of soot and dirt.

“At least it’s hot,” Willow said, stepping in. 

“Just below boiling, just how you like it,” Charlie said. She had a rag, and used a bit of her soap on it. Rose scented. Willow had admitted a while back that she liked smelling of Charlie’s soap. 

Willow seemed to be enjoying the heat, now she was actually in it. Charlie smiled, and took her hand. The nails were cut short, but caked with dirt. She began scrubbing. 

The water became murky as Charlie cleaned Willow. 

“You must have half the dust in Texas on you,” Charlie said. 

“Sometimes I roll in the dirt,” Willow said. 

Willow was practically boneless from Charlie’s rhythmic, gentle and careful cleaning; she now looked like an entirely different person. It was almost done, all that was necessary now was to rinse Willow’s hair. 

She unbraided the braids, running her fingers through it. The cloud of dust made her sneeze. 

“My hair too? Really?” 

“I’ll brush your hair after,” Charlie soothed. “Give you a nice scalp massage.” 

Charlie had to rinse the hair five times before she was certain all the grime was out of the hair. 

“Alright, all done,” Charlie said. Willow immediately bolted out of the tub, getting water everywhere.

Willow dried herself with a towel, then rummaged in Charlie’s drawers to find the clothes Charlie kept for her. She pulled out a nightgown and put it on. 

“Sit on the floor in front of me,” Charlie instructed. Willow complied. Charlie began to brush the hair. 

“You have beautiful hair,” Charlie said. 

“It doesn’t really do anything I want it to,” Willow said. “Always slips out of the braids! So irritating. I don’t know how fancy ladies like you keep your hair in those crazy styles all the time.” 

“Part of it is not rolling in dirt, dear.” 

“Well, I guess I’m never going to be able to do a fancy smancy hairstyle then.” 

“You never were going to in the first place.” 

“Ah! True.” 

Willow settled against Charlie’s legs. Charlie began to massage Willow’s scalp. 

“That’s nice,” sighed Willow. “I haven’t seen you in ages. I missed you a lot.” 

“It’s only been a few days.” 

“AGES.” Willows groaned. “You know Wilson- that doctor- he’s living with Maxwell now? He only comes to town for work. Goes back at night.” 

“Mr. Higgsbury is truly living with him? Maxy must be very fond of him.” 

“Why can’t I live with you,” Willow complained. “Why does that awful man get nice things and I, objectively the best person ever, do not?” 

“Am I not a nice thing?” 

“You’re the BEST THING!” 

Charlie chuckled. “You’re the best thing to me too.” She kissed her head. “I love you.” 

“If I wasn’t a wanted criminal I would be... Your housewife.” 

Charlie laughed. “You? A housewife? In what world?” 

“Well, I suppose I could be your bodyguard and scare away men who bother your girls.” 

“That would be nice.” 

Willow pulled away and turned around. 

“You’re nice. Want me to make you feel nice too?” 

Charlie nodded. Willow beamed. 

“Nothing too much tonight, though,” Charlie said. “I’m tired. We can do more tomorrow.” 

“Alright!” 

The sex was calm, and not rushed, but Charlie finished rather quickly.

She breathed heavily for a few moments before speaking.   

“Honestly, you devious thing, where did you even learn that?”

“I like to put things in my mouth.” Willow was on top of her now, and Charlie kissed her. They kissed passionately for a moment, until Willow pulled back. 

“Let’s go to sleep. Did you have a long day?” 

“Yes,” Charlie sighed. “But I feel better with you here.” 

They climbed until the covers. Charlie turned and saw the letter on the nightstand. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“A letter from my parents.” 

“Want me to kill them for you?” 

“No,” Charlie snorted. “You can’t kill all of my problems.” 

“I can try.” 

Charlie looked at it for a moment longer, before sitting back up and opening it. She smiled at Willow- her simply being there gave her enough courage to open the letter. 

She hesitantly read it. 

“Dearest Charlie,

We miss you terribly! Our neighbors have just had a baby girl, and she reminds us so much of you when you were her age. You were so small and perfect. We thought to ourselves, no matter what happens, we will love this child with all our hearts, and support her in all things. 

We hope you and your husband create a little miracle of your own very soon.

All our love, 

Mother and Father.” 

Charlie set down the letter. Her anxiety was eased a bit, but she stared pensively into the fire. 

“Willow, I think it may be time I told them the truth.” 

Willow pulled her close, kissing her forehead. 

“I’ll be with you whether they accept it or not. Don’t worry.” 

“I love you,” said Charlie. 

“I love you too.” 

Charlie fell asleep quickly held in Willow’s arms. 

#charllow #ds #Ds western au #bluh bluh

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Ghost Wedding: The Remix

So, uh, here’s the first actual fanfic I’ve written, and the first full length piece I’ve written in literal years. I wrote it for my own amusement, after weeks of eating up various bits of TWST lore and scenes and going “But, how would the whole Ghost marriage story have gone with a Yuu who was more like me a goth bisexual disaster?

What follows is a series of vignnetes, starring a Yuu who’s the only girl in NRC, with deeply questionable taste, told in the second person. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, I crave positive feedback and like when other people enjoy the things I like.

Contend warnings for blood, body horror, emeto, coarse language and pretentious word choices.

You've been here a while. En-Arr-See wasn't precisely a safe place, what with your dorm being a condemned hellpit of tetanus and black mold, and powerful magicians having mutagenic psychotic breaks only curable by kicking their ass so hard it flies out their mouth. But certainly, it wasn't boring, and you'd made friends. You had your scrappy ginger Ace in the hole; your serious mamas-boy Deuce; your funny little not-a-cat Grim. Hell, you even have your Horned Boy, he of the poison-coloured eyes that never seem to leave your face when you talk about fun things like books and music and the moral imperative of dissolving the monarchy. And, you were on speaking terms with a good chunk of others. So, when your favourite little robot came up to Crowley, yelling something about ghosts kidnapping his brother, you took his hand and said, "Ortho, show me what's going on." After all, you won't let anything happen to Idia. You have plans for him yet.

~*~*~*~

Some beauties might launch a thousand ships, and in your (objectively correct) opinion, while Idia's beauty wouldn't lead to a ten year siege of Troy, he'd certainly convince everyone attending Whitby Goth Weekend to haul off into the sea with a beat of his lashes. The first time you'd seen him, you'd simply stared in slack-jawed awe. He was luminescent; even leaving behind the fiery hair that flashed and swelled behind him, his eyes were a bright clear amber, and his skin translucent, with his own blue veins serving as the detailing in the marble. Add in the deeply circled eyes and the bluish discolouration of the lips, and the figure he presented was arresting, astounding, more beautiful and unreal than anything you'd conjured up after staying up all night reading ghost stories. "Magnificent," you'd said to yourself, and if your friends gave you a strange look, well, fuck 'em. They have no sense of beauty or taste.

Unfortunately, the intensity of your gaze proved too much for him, and he'd fled. You'd had no time to pursue the object of your infatuation either, class would soon begin, and Grim was yelling. Later, then. There's all the time in the world to ask after the fine young man with the lamplight eyes.

~*~*~*~ "Oh no," you said when Ortho showed you the video. "She's really hot."

Grim gawked and Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you take from this?"

"You're the one with an all-boys school. What's a girl like me to do when a pretty girl pops up?"

"She's a ghost, Yuu."

"That's the best part."

"My brother-"

"I'll help you, dear." You set a hand on Ortho's shoulder. "He must be so frightened, right? I'll do what you need." 

Before anyone could say anything else, a racket started up outside, and things got a little busy.

~*~*~*~ "Do you mind if I sit?"

Idia looked up at you. starting at the intrusion. His face was awash in blue from the conjured screens around him, his lips gone black. "...Why?"

"Tables are full. I'd rather not eat standing." He didn't explicitly say no, so you settled across the table, a few chairs down. He made a fascinating tableau as you picked at your lunch, flicking through and typing at the screen. Lines of code, schematics for all sorts of tech, occasional comics all flit across the pane of light in a million shades of blue. Until...

"Could you pretend I'm a bug?"

You squinted. "What." What the actual hell did he mean by that.

"Pretend I'm not here. I'm beneath notice."

You stop for a moment and smile, faint enough that he can't see the devil in it. "You want me to treat you like an insect."

"Yes." Hard to see in the light, there was a small twitch by his temple, a barely perceptible shake in his long fingered hands.

"Alright." With that, you slide down the table to directly across from him, settle you chin in your hands, and stare at him unblinkingly.

"?!?!?" The squawk he made was undignified and deeply, deeply endearing. "What are you doing?"

"You asked me to treat you like an insect." You smile at him, full of mischief and good cheer. "So I'm looking at you very closely. I'm taking in every sweet action, and delighting that the day has conspired to put something so wonderful in front of me."

Oh, who would have thought that this blue boy could turn so pink! As he pulled his hood up, you chuckle and move back to your tray. "I'll let you be," you say, and did indeed, for the amount of time it took him to close up shop and flee back to the depths of Ignihyde. When you waved at him as he went by, he nearly tripped in his haste.

~*~*~*~ "Stop laughing."

The boys did not listen.

"May others show you the kindness you've shown Idia if you're in a bind."

"You're just mad because she's gonna kill your-"

"Grim? Shut the fuck up. Now; who's helping."

After a chorus of 'no's, you drag your fingers through your hair. "I hate all of you so fucking much right now... Ortho, your ideas?"

Ortho's idea was deeply enticing but Crowley would not have the school leveled, and thankfully, the two of them threatened and guilted the others into helping. You'd have to say thank you later, but god, then Crowley might think you actually liked him instead of just finding him funny, and who needed that in their life?

"Alright, so... A plan?"

~*~*~*~ As badly as he might've liked to have escaped, there was only one empty seat in the class, and it was by him. So, Idia threw his hood up, along with his headphones, and started blatantly ignoring you.

"Idia." Silence.

"Idia." A faint grunt and he turned away from you.

"Shroud," you intoned in the most sepulchral tone you could, setting you hand in his field of vision. He whipped his head at you, the fire in his eyes nothing compared to the changing colours on his head.

"WHAT."

You raise your hands in supplication, trying to still your racing heart. "I'm sorry dude. I wanted to ask where you got your screens?"

"My screens?" His eyes flicked back to his schoolwork, hovering in the air. "I made them myself."

Your face lit up in awe. "That's amazing dude, holy shit. How'd you do that? It's a damn miracle."

"Ah... well..." Two sides warred within him - pride that someone recognized his tech genius, and his deep seated anxiety that anyone trying to be nice was just fucking with him. Fortunately for both of you, pride won out. "It's certainly something complicated for a magicless normie like you to understand." He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you really want to hear?"

You fixed him with a level look. "Never call me that again. Now, start like I'm five and go from there."

He stared back at you, and you stared right back. "Indulge me, Idia."

He gave you a smile full of sharp, crooked teeth, and while you tried to still the palpitations the sight of them gave you, he started with very basic theory, and went from there.

~*~*~*~ "You are not going to seduce the ghost bride, Yuu."

"Why the hell not?"

"You're a girl?"

"You're kinda plain."

"You're fat."

"She's probably straight?"

You point in turn at Leona, Azul, Vil, and Kalim. "So?, no I'm plenty hot actually, get fucked, and... Okay, That is a good point. But Kal, you have no idea how many straight girls I've managed to kiss."

"I think you'd die, Shrimpie," Floyd said as he flopped heavily over your shoulders, giggling as you attempted to untangle yourself. "And you're short."

"Yeah, but you have no idea how hot I am when I'm actually try- Shut up, Vil - Like, I clean up so good you guys. I even made a suit a couple weeks ago -"

"That's convenient? Weirdly so?"

"I found suiting that wasn't moth eaten and decided to have fun, at least-" You finally escape from the noodly arms of Leech the Wild One. "Let me suit up and show you? I can be so sexy, you guys. Come on."

In answer to the confused silence, you took your keys out of your pocket and chucked them at Deuce's confused face. "Adeuce! Grim! It's on the vanity in my room!"

"But ghosts?"

"Say you're clearing out things so that we won't bother... No, actually just go the balcony way."

"You can't unlock the balcony from the outside without a lockpick, it only locks from the inside."

A moment of silence. "Lilia, what the fuck?"

He shrugged. "I moved everything two inches to the left once to see if you noticed."

"I wasn't imagining things?!?"

This'll take a moment to sort out, and the clock is ticking...

~*~*~*~ You truly liked the woods! Green and quiet. Full of things that crawled and scurried, little friends that squeaked and croaked and hissed. The occasional precious treasure of a small bone or edible mushroom. So, you were quite surprised when you found Idia, miserable, crouched beside a fallen log.

"... Skipping gym?" Going by the uniform, the most likely answer. "Or did you finally realize that outside doesn't always bite?"

He scowled at you, and you stifled a giggle when you realized that yes, he was actually covered in bug bites. "They should replace this with a mall."

"You hate malls. Too many people." You reached out a hand, and pulled him to his feet. Idly, you wondered if he'd let you try and fit your hands around his waist, but thought better of asking.

"Game stores are alright. No one bothers you in one, or in arcades. And." He stopped, as he brushed the dirt from his legs, before continuing in a mumble you only got the gist of.

"Me and Ortho will be your big, scary guard dogs?"

"... Who'll notice me with both of you?"

"Everyone." Because he's the most beautiful person in the room, and they'd be mad not to look. "Because you show up so rarely. It makes it all the more noticeable when you are out, so everyone pays attention." You held out a hand. "I'll take you out the back way so you don't get in trouble."

No dice. He held his hands in close. "I'll just follow."

"Alright. Why'd you go out this far in the woods with no map, anyways?"

"There's no cell service..."

"Clearly, we need to turn your blood into a wi-fi signal, instead of liquid sugar."

He huffed, but he did follow you, and was actually approaching a good mood once you escorted him through the Ramshackle gates.

~*~*~*~ "Hey, what did I miss?" It took entirely too long to get a single lock of hair to to a perfect insouciant flip over your forehead, even with the eternally stylish Sam's help.

"She's slapped everyone who went to propose, and when she does you're paralyzed for 500 years."

"Christ," You say as you adjust a pin on your lapel. "We have to get Idia back, he'll get what? A week before he gets the hand."

"She's so fussy!" yelled Grim. "You have to sing and have a dog and she hates poison flowers."

"Clearly, she has no taste." Honestly,you thought her taste was just fine, what with thinking Idia was the finest of the bunch. He was very princely, if your tastes ran to exquisite corpses with the personality of a neurotic goblin. "Who wouldn't want poison blossoms?" Tie? No tie? Tie? No tie? No tie. And unbutton. Leona wishes he had this chest.

"We know she has no taste because she chose Idia."

You chose to ignore that, and clapped. "Okay, Round Two!"

~*~*~*~ The truest tragedy of this school was that it was all boys. Not that boys were bad by any means, you certainly enjoyed them, but... girls. Tall girls! Short girls! Busty girls! Petite girls! Butch girls! Femme girls! Fat girls! Girls!

So many kinds of girls, and you, in all of your plump and handsome glory, were the only girl in an entire high school. Welcome to hell.

You accepted no gifts that came unvetted. You had friends ward the everloving bajeezus out of your dorm room. Grim was more than happy to test your food and drink for tampering, but it was exhausting. You at least knew that any food you ate at the Mostro Lounge was clear, but that was only because everyone was too damn scared of the eternally hovering Floyd to try anything while there.

 So, you eat a lot of vending machine snacks.

You've been standing there for fifteen minutes, trying to figure out the best combo with your limited funds, when someone coughed behind you.

"??? Oh, hey Idia." You stepped aside while he shuffled up to the glass and peered in. "Anything to recommend? I got this." You waved your bill in the air.

He only looked at you a moment before looking back at the machine. "That won't get you much."

"Ah, don't I know it. But it's all I got."

He still wasn't looking directly at you, but a smile started to creep across his face. "Get your bag."

"Wha-" He was already tapping out a beat with the keypad, blue sparks flying from his fingertips, the machine starting to groan and shiver. With a final note, the snack machine gave a final heaving shudder - and every single snack fell to the bottom of the machine.

He was so proud as he smiled at you, reaching down and pulling a single bag of gummies from the spilled mess. "You first."

And, as you stuffed your schoolbag and pockets full of thieved goods, praising his genius, his cleverness, his skills, he just glowed.

~*~*~*~ "I guess you were ahead of the game, Yuu. She hates that no one's dressed up properly. And..."

"And? You raised an eyebrow at Ace.

"You do look stylish. But you need backup."

"Of course. You'll all rescue people while I distract her!”

"But what if she slaps you?"

"You'll step in if that happens. But we have to dress you all up."

"Did you makes spares?"

"No." Tragic, everyone would look so cute in summerweight green wool. "Let's ask Sam, he's got everything."

~*~*~*~ "Okay, Ortho, you see?" You held his back to your chest, and raised your hand in front of his face, palm away from him. As you wiggled your fingers, you could see movement on the back of your hand. "Those are tendons. Those, and the muscles, are what move the bones, make your hands move. If you put your fingers here," you say as you place his fingertips over the moving lines, "you should be able to feel it."

"I do! They go up and down. What's the popping?"

"That's my faulty joints, we'll cover those another day. Now," you flipped your hand over, and moved his fingers to your wrist. "You feel that?"

"That is your pulse! It's not as string as it should be."

"I'm not always in the best of health. So, Ortho. My hand moves by muscles and tendons when I think of it. My blood moves through my body, one beat at a time, and you can feel it. Right?"

"Right."

"You," you say, as you take Ortho's other hand. "Your hand moves by motors and servos, when you think about it. Electricity and magic moves through your body, in beats so fast we can't perceive it, and it's as measurable as my pulse."

"... Because I am a robot."

"Because you are a bit different. But we're both alive, we're both real, just in different ways." You turn to look at Ortho directly, and he looks back at you with yellow eyes that are actual, real lamps. "Don't let anyone ever say you're not real, or alive, or good enough, just because you're different."

And though you can't see it, you can feel Idia smiling from the corner of his room.

~*~*~*~ Alright. No more time for memories, only the here and now. You've got a heart full of love, a pocket full of ring, and a head full of stupid. You're as prepared as anyone else who went in. Start on your left foot, and...

"Hello? Excuse me?" You make a cursory knock at the doorframe before stepping in. "I heard there was a wedding."

The bride - Eliza - whirled on you, and stopped. She was even more of a vision in person, airy translucence and fine, sweet features currently arranged in confusion. "Ah- Yes! I'm getting married to my darling Prince Idia! Right away, so-"

Not if I have my way about it, you thought to yourself as you arranged yourself in a perfect bow, one hand behind your back. You pretended not to notice Idia trussed up with rope, but you filed the sight away for later. "How wonderful. I wish you only happiness. But it must wait."

Before she could get her hand ready, you straightened and fixed her with your best smile. "My dearest princess, I cannot let this happen until I dance with the most beautiful person in this room. It would be improper to do so with a newlywed, and I cannot know peace until I dance. Would you be so kind, my fair princess?"

She was still baffled. "Aren't you a girl?"

You keyed up the brightness. "I am, and I dance very well. Would you indulge me, my dear?"

You could see her considering it. "You... are rather princely. Can you lead?"

"Of course. May I?" Again with the bow, and to your delight, she returned with a flawless curtsy. Hand in hand, you began.

~*~*~*~ It was delightful, to dance with this silly ghost girl. Everywhere your bodies touched, from her hand in yours to what would have been a fine chest, but was instead a clean and elegant ribcage festooned with pearls, heat seeped away and left only a chill as cold as clay. Her footwork was flawless, considering she no longer had feet, and she was so easy to chat with. She asked you about your dog (none currently, but you'd love to have one, and there was Grim in the meantime), your singing, (little voice to speak of, but that was what vocal coaches were for), and why you wanted to dance with her (because when would the chance ever come again? Unless fairest Eliza considered her for forever and a day.)

"But what of dear Idia?" She'd almost looked towards where Idia no longer was, having been unknotted long ago, but you drew her back in before she could notice the chaos around her.

" 'Dear Idia', though as beautiful as the moon in the sky, has cold feet, my love. He's afraid of dying. But I? I'd cherish you for all of eternity." You leaned in closer. "I am not afraid of dying, beloved. To journey with you through realms beyond mortal reach. I can think of nothing more exciting than to cross the barrier to the other side, hand in hand with you. In the words of a fine sir from my home, 'to die by your side/the pleasure, the privilege is mine'. Please, please consider me, please..."

Here's how it should have gone: She said yes, and you put the ring on her finger, and all was well. But you'd awakened such a sweet hunger in her, she could not wait for propriety. Instead, she grasped your face and kissed you with the passion of five hundred years search, found.

~*~*~*~ It was so pleasant at first, that you couldn't help but return it. When had anyone ever kissed you with such passion? But quickly, the chill began to overtake you. It could have been bearable, but after that was pain. You started to shake, uncontrollably, as every nerve in your body was scraped away with a rusty blade, and as you weakly tried to push away, as blood began to flow from your eyes, your mouth, every pore and orifice, she still would not let go. All you could think was it hurts it hurts it hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts and, as you slipped to a grey place beyond where pain could touch you, you barely noticed the cacophony around you, or something hurtling towards the two of you from the corner of your eye.

Something blue.

~*~*~*~ When you finally woke up, through a drugged and painful haze, you couldn't tell where you were. When you jolted up, the pain of it sending you into a nauseated fit of blood-flecked coughing, a familiar yelp sounded, and you turned to see Idia, little the worse for wear.

"You're up, uh..." He fumbled something onto the table, behind his back. "I."

You just looked. At him, at the surroundings. A hospital bed, with gifts and flowers (most filched from the wedding venue, but someone had stuck Jade's poison blossom into a vase and set it in the far corner). Idia was the only one present, seeing as it was the middle of the night.

"Ortho's getting things you might need. I... I hate hospital scenes..."

"Hurt's over.” You tried to settle yourself more comfortably, failing miserably. “Here comes the comfort." You reached out a hand, as he looked anywhere in the room but you.

"Idia." Silence.

"Idia." More silence.

"Shroud." He hesitantly placed his hand in yours, tinting pink as you pulled the sleeve up. The sight of it made you gasp. His fine wrist, so small even you could put your fingers around it, was mottled with deep bruising, blacks and purples set so deep into the skin that there was crusted blood on the surface, despite being unbroken. It was so, deeply, incredibly...

Beautiful. It was all you could do, not to press your lips to his wrist and taste his pulse as it flitted under his skin. To clean the blood away with your own tongue and cover the marks that your hungry ghost princess had made with your own teeth. Not hers. Yours.

Really, no wonder you'd been so enchanted with Eliza. You're cut of the same cloth.

"It must hurt."

He jerked his hand away, making you both wince. "What the hell is wrong with you? They only reason you're not dead is everyone pouring so much healing magic into you that it exhausted almost everyone. I." You could see flickers and flashes of orange sparking along the full length of his hair. "I'm not worth dying for. Why?"

What do you tell him? That it was the right thing to do? That you wanted to prove that you could woo a pretty girl? That you didn't want him dead? That you were a possessive bitch that couldn't stand the idea of someone else having him, even if unwilling on his part? All were true, but what do you say?

It proved a moot point, as when you opened your mouth to say something, anything, something shifted within you, and the only thing Idia received was a gout of blood square in his face.

~*~*~*~ After you'd slept, you reached for your phone in the thin morning light. Your friends where texting well wishes and condolences, and explanations of what happened after you went down (It seemed Idia had tackled Eliza clean off of you, and after some chaos she ran off with her retainer, rending this entire day moot). Even more interestingly, you found a text from an unknown number:

- I'm still mad at you.

You huffed to yourself, and after a bit of thought, start to text back.

- Dude I'm so sorry about the uh. blood puke. - I'll pay for cleaning - Also you know, you could have just asked for my number a long time ago? - Like a normal person? - Who doesn't break into phones to steal said numbers while I was unconscious next to you, what the fuck dude - That's not what this is about though. - You've got every right to be mad - That whole day was traumatizing, and you didn't deserve any of it - I'd rather sort this out in person but if text is easier for you right now we can do that - One last thing though

You stopped, and thought Do I actually do this? and went what the hell.

- I still need that dance I went in to get from you

#twisted wonderland #twst fic #twisted wonderland fanfiction #ghost wedding #my writing

[ineffableplanner]

Newsletter #31 - The week of Saturday September 12th - Saturday September 19th 2020

What’s new this week? Upcoming and current things are afoot - have a look - there’s sure to be something that will appeal to you ;) - from events to zines. 

Ineffable Husbands AU week - September 20th - 27th

Ineffable Kinktober 2020 - October 1st - 31st

Ineffable Con 2 - October 16th - 18th

[NEW] Racket's 13 days of Halloween - posting begins on October 19th)

Good Omens Celebrations - Birthday Edition! October 21st - 25th

[NEW] Interest survey for the Big Bang (open through the weekend of September 12th-13th)

OTP-prompts & Mystery AU - both events run September-December

We’re On Our Own Side - weekly prompts

Snektember Prompts!

Trickety-Boo - A Good Omens Halloween Event

Good Omens Fic Rec Bingo - (no deadline available)

T-RECS Tuesdays (GO fanfic recommendations) (no deadline/ongoing)

#ButterOmens (ongoing multi media event(writing/art/whatever you want))

#twist-an-omen (ongoing multi media event (writing/art/whatever you want))

Encourage good feedback (no deadline/ongoing)

[NEW] Cider & Cocoa Zine - signsups open from September 14th - October 26th.

Nothing currently (though check out current events as well)

Ace Omens Discord Server - Click here for information post

Do-it-with-style - runs various events like the mini-bang and upcoming Telephone Event. Takes all ages.

Fuck Yeah Good Omens Characters - give the other characters apart form Azirpahale and Crowley some love. Takes all ages, NSFW optional.

GO-events (this server is the one running the AUmens, RomCom and upcoming POV Pairs)

Good Omens Party House (18+) - Click here for information post

Good Omens Stitch-A-Long (ever wanted to learn how to stitch?) - Click here for information post

Ineffable Wives Discord Server - Click here for direct access

Soft Omens Snuggle House (18+)- Click here for information post

GoodOmens - A community for the book by Neil Gaiman & Sir Terry Pratchett and its adaptions to radio and TV with an extra large helping of Ineffable Husbands/Wives/Partners.

Ineffable Husbands, Ineffable Wives, Ineffable Partners - A community solely for Aziraphale and Crowley from the Good Omens book/radio adaption/TV series being in some kind of romantic or platonic relationship. =) Please read the "Rules and Info" section before posting/reblogging here!

Community Calendar (Trello) can be viewed here (it is updated through the week if I hear of any events to add).

-----

If you have an event you want to add to the calendar and the weekly Newsletter, don’t hesitate to let me know either in the asks/PM or via ineffableplanner (@) gmail dot com.

Also, feel free to share this post. This blog is NOT for reblogging of events, but for listing and perhaps making it a bit easier for everyone to keep track of these events before they’ve come AND gone ;)

As always, thank you to Goodomensevents​, Thegoodomensdumpster (yes - I get a lot of info off these two so follow them!)​ and those of you who PM/email me event info. This would be so much harder without you all.

This newsletter is mirrored on pillowfort and tumblr

If you want updates on other SoMe, check the linktree

(please note that preorders of zines has moved to the Wednesday Spotlight post.)

* This is something tumblr never learned but PF has adopted from the old LJ format - if anyone wants a PF invite, just ask - we get 3 per week anyway to give away and there are pillowforters who will happily share invites.

#good omens #good omens newsletter #ineffableplanner #good omens events

[occasionally-writing]

Christmas Is Better With You

A/N: Hey guys! This was a commission request from the lovely @onetine, who wanted a cute and fluffy mingkit fanfic! I went a bit longer than I thought I would with this but it’s because I was inspired and I wanted the fic to be perfect for ya! Anyways, thanks so much for commissioning me and if anyone else wants to commission me, feel free to send me a message <3 Thanks so much and I hope you and everyone else who reads this enjoys the fanfic! <3

Summary: Kit and Ming get together to go Christmas shopping for some supplies to put on Kit’s tree in his dorm. After they get everything, the two go back to Kit’s dorm and work together to make Kit’s tree beautiful...with some cute disasters of course. 

Word Count: 3698

“When you said you wanted to go out to get some stuff for the tree...I did not think you meant coming here…” Kit grumbled as he weaved around the endless crowd of people who seemed like they were shopping for the upcoming holiday. Letting out a hum as he easily maneuvered around the endless crowd of people, Ming made sure not to lose his boyfriend, his hand reaching out and taking Kit’s wrist in a gentle grasp. Tensing briefly at the touch, Kit peered around him before he sighed, relaxing in Ming’s hold since he knew that it was the only way they wouldn’t lose each other in the filled mall. “This place is packed and I really hate being smashed close together like this.”

“I’m sorry P’Kit...I didn’t think it would be this busy. Let’s just get the things we need and then we can leave, okay?” Ming apologized, shooting Kit an apologetic grin, a slight shine of guilt prickling in his eyes that had Kit sighing and shaking Ming’s grip off so he could take his hand instead. Nodding softly to Ming’s sincere apology, Kit stumbled closer to his boyfriend when someone bumped into him from behind, almost causing Kit to trip if it wasn’t for Ming holding onto him. “Look! There’s the store! Hang on tight to me, yeah?”

Rolling his eyes at the smirk Ming had on his face as he said this, Kit kicked his leg lightly and tried to hide the smile that was threatening to slip onto his lips when the sound of Ming’s cackle reached past the hustle and bustle of the noise around them. Holding Kit close, Ming helped his boyfriend across the busy pathway and not even a moment longer, Kit found himself in front of the seasonal shop that always opened when it came close to the holiday season. Keeping his fingers threaded through Ming’s, Kit pulled his younger boyfriend inside, letting go of Ming so that the other could grab a cart. 

“Come on. If I remember correctly, the ornaments, garland and some string lights should be near the back, along with the star...I don’t remember if I still have the old one so let’s just get a new one to be sure,” Kit mumbled, going over a list of what they need in his head, unaware of the compassionate look Ming was giving him. Taking the cart from Ming, Kit pushed it towards the back, Ming stuck to his side even as the younger male let his gaze off Kit, taking in the colorful lights and glittering decorations around them. “There they are...Ming? Ming!”

“S-sorry! Got distracted. What color ornaments should we get?” Ming chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as Kit glared at him slightly for losing focus. Easing the stern furrow of his brows, Kit sighed and parked the cart to the side, the two of them quickly looking through all the packs of round and funny shaped ornaments. Picking out two packs that had fifty ornaments in each, the colors bright and sparkling with glitter as Ming placed them carefully in the cart. Not having to wait long to find the garland, Ming kept his soft gaze on Kit as his boyfriend looked over all the garland. “How about we get the gold and silver one with the bells? And maybe...the red and white one with the candy canes?”

“Sure...you only want two or should we get one more?” Humming at his question, Ming stepped next to Kit and looked over the display, both of them agreeing on a third string of garland that was bright green and sparkly with little decals of holly hanging off of it. Tossing them in the cart, Kit watched as Ming excitingly strolled towards the boxes of string lights that were on a display. Pushing the cart towards him, Kit helped his boyfriend pick out the color of lights he thought would look good with the stuff they had in the cart. “How about we go for some rainbow lights? We already have a shit ton of colorful bulbs and garland.”

Nodding very much like an excited dog, Ming picked out two boxes of lights as Kit strolled towards the display that held the tree toppers. Listening to Ming placing the boxes of lights into the cart, Kit tried not to jump as arms wrapped around his waist and a chin was placed on his head as Ming appeared behind him, not shy with being affectionate in public. Stomping on his foot, obviously not using his full strength since all Ming did was flinch, Kit tried to ignore the way his cheeks flushed red as they looked over the stars, the colors varying from gold to silver and even ones with all the colors from the rainbow. Straightening up when he noticed a pretty good sized gold star that had little details of silver on it, the gold glitter making it shine bright in the fluorescent lights the store had on their ceiling. 

“Let’s get that one!” Ming pointed out, practically leaning on Kit as he reached up and plucked the star off the hook it was displayed on. Letting out a grunt as most of Ming’s weight was on him, Kit shoved him off once he was sure Ming was steady on his feet and wouldn’t bump into anything if he stumbled. Chuckling at the flustered expression Kit wore on his face, Ming gently placed the star in the cart and waited for Kit to compose himself, obviously not taking long as he strolled up to the cart and peered inside. “I think we got everything. Is everything here that was on your mental checklist?”

“Let’s see...ornaments, garland, lights and a star...Yeah. I think we got everything…” Kit muttered, taking in everything in their cart as Ming nodded, placing his hand on Kit’s neck to massage the slight tension he could feel there. Leaning into his touch slightly, Kit double checked everything before he hummed, reaching up so he could squeeze Ming’s hand softly, turning his attention to pushing the cart so they could check out and finally get out of the packed mall. “Come on. It’s getting late and I really don’t want to be here when this place gets busier.”

Chuckling at the sullen tone of Kit’s voice, Ming followed his boyfriend quietly as Kit made his way towards the front, Kit not minding the way his boyfriend’s attention seemed to fade once again, his eyes on all the lights glowing and creating a festive air around them. Not having to wait long in the line, Ming took the job of putting everything on the counter for the cashier to scan while Kit pulled out his card and paid for everything. Giving a wai to the kind woman, Ming took the bags and strolled out of the store with Kit, standing near while Kit pushed the cart back in its place. Shyly taking Ming’s free hand since they both noticed how busy it truly got, Kit stayed close to his side as Ming carefully led them around the bustling crowd. 

“God, sometimes I hate the holiday season,” Kit grumbled once they finally reached the entrance of the mall, both of them quickly making their way out of the warm building and into the chilly night, the sun long gone from the sky despite it being in the sky when they first arrived to the mall. Keeping close to the heavy warmth Ming gave off as a shiver racketed his form. Wrapping an arm around Kit’s waist and holding him close, Ming shuffled them towards the older boy’s car. Opening the trunk with a shivering hand, Kit tried to hide a grumble when Ming ushered him into the driver’s seat so that he could get warm. Placing the bags in the trunk, Ming closed the door and quickly took his place in the passenger seat. “Get your seatbelt on so we can get out of here.”

“Yes, P’Kit,” Ming replied as he buckled himself in, flashing Kit a smile that caused his boyfriend to grumble and look away with a small blush staining his cheeks. Carefully pulling out of the parking spot, Kit didn’t say a word even when Ming turned on the radio, the sound of Christmas music filling the once quiet car as it gave them something to listen to on their way back to Kit’s dorm. “You have candy canes, right? No tree is complete without them.”

Letting out a snort as he made a noise of affirmation, Kit kept his eyes on the road until they pulled into their university, Kit following the well known road towards the dorms for the med students. Parking in a free spot, Kit turned off the car and waited for Ming to stop dancing in his seat to the song that was currently playing on the radio. Noticing the look Kit was giving him, Ming snickered and turned it off, flashing his boyfriend a grin as he got out. Rolling his eyes, yet a fond sparkle shining in them, Kit slid out of the car and let out a breath, watching as the mist of his breath fogged in the cold night air. Hearing the bags rustling before the trunk was closed, Kit turned his attention to Ming who appeared next to him, seeming like he was ready to get in the warmth of Kit’s dorm room. 

“Ready?” Kit asked, arching a brow at the quick nods Ming gave him. Shaking his head in amusement, Kit strolled forward as he rubbed his hands together, warming them as Ming stayed hot on his heels. Both boys letting out a sigh as the wonderful heat of the dormitory brushed over them as they entered, Ming shuffled closer to Kit but stayed quiet, both of them quickly making their way up the stairs to the floor Kit lived on. “Finally home. You can set the bag on my bed. We can do the lights first and then the garland. The ornaments can go after both of those things are on and then we can put the star up. Okay?” 

“You got it!” Ming chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Kit’s hair before he shot inside, avoiding the kick that Kit playfully aimed towards his knees. Closing the door behind him and shaking his head when he noticed the way Ming had kicked off his shoes when he entered, Kit toed off his own and neatly placed them towards the wall, doing the same with Ming’s while he was at it. Hearing the sound of Ming ruffling through the paper bags, Kit strolled further into his room and just watched the way his boyfriend looked over the items and put them in order of which Kit had said that had to go on the tree first. “Are we going to order takeout while we do the tree?”

“Sure. We can decorate the tree while we wait for the food to be delivered. Do you want to make the call or should I?” Kit asked as he sat on the bed, looking over the items as Ming hummed in thought. Noticing Ming pull out his phone, Kit already knew the answer to his question so while his boyfriend ordered from the place they both loved to go, Kit began to open the boxes of lights and pull the tags off the garland and the star. Vaguely taking notice the way Ming placed his phone back in his pocket, Kit turned his attention to him as Ming picked up the lights. “How long did they say until the food arrived?”

“They said thirty minutes to forty five minutes. That’s not too long of a wait and who knows, we might finish the tree in that time!” Ming thought out loud, unrolling the lights so that the two prongs could easily fit in the socket and they still had enough wire to wrap the lights around the tree. Nodding as he set a timer on his phone to go off when the delivery would arrive, Kit pushed himself off the bed and grabbed the other end of the lights as Ming plugged them in, the dim room being lit up by a bright hue of rainbow lights. Staring at Kit as the lights casted a glow among his features, Ming couldn’t help the small smile that rose on his lips as he observed his boyfriend. “Beautiful.”

Sputtering out a lame response that had Ming cackling as his cheeks flamed up, Kit huffed and aimed a kick at his boyfriend, who took it in stride as he continued to cackle. Deciding to get to work, Kit softly roped the lights around the bottom and middle of the tree, pausing when the lights stopped. Pulling the second round of lights from the second box, Ming plugged the prongs into the open socket on the first string of lights and continued to rope them around the upper half of the tree, not stopping until the lights were wrapped around the top of the tree securely. 

Stepping back to see how the tree looked so far, Kit nudged Ming as his boyfriend brushed past him to choose one of the three strings of garland that had bought when they were at the mall. Not noticing the way Ming stepped behind him as he continued to eye the tree, Kit gasped as one of the ropes of garland was suddenly wrapped around him and Ming’s chest was pressed flush against his back. Turning in his boyfriend’s hold, being slightly careful since he didn’t want to accidentally break the garland, Kit stared into Ming’s eyes and muttered something about him being really brave.

“Sorry P’Kit, I couldn’t help myself. You just look really beautiful with the way these lights glow on you,” Ming whispered, pressing his forehead against Kit’s as he admitted to what has been on his mind since they started. Holding his breath as he was forced to hear what Ming had to say, Kit cleared his throat as his face grew warm for like the millionth time that day yet he couldn’t help but appreciate the words his boyfriend spewed out. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kit nodded shyly and bit back a grin when Ming nuzzled their noses together. Keeping his gaze locked on Kit’s, Ming found himself inching forward until their lips brushed, both his and his boyfriend’s eyes fluttering shut. Pulling away after a moment, Ming smiled softly and pressed a last kiss to Kit’s forehead before he helped Kit out of the garland he had trapped him in earlier. “We should really finish the tree, huh?”

“Y-yeah...put that on the top of the tree, I’ll grab some more garland and wrap it around the bottom. Whoever’s done first can wrap the last rope around the middle of the tree,” Kit explained, his voice unmistakingly a bit high but if Ming had noticed it, he didn’t say anything as he nodded and got to work, wrapping the gold and silver bell garland around the top of the tree. Unrolling the green holly garland, Kit got to work with wrapping it around the bottom of the tree as Ming finished his first, circling around Kit as he worked to grab the last of the garland. Standing back up as he finished, Kit took a step back and watched as Ming finished up with the candy cane garland, wrapping it neatly around the middle. “Make sure it’s even, Ming.”

Letting out a sound to show he was listening, Ming carefully fixed any funny looking spots before he stood up, shuffling back next to Kit as they both examined the tree. Finding it satisfactory, Kit turned towards their remaining supplies and picked up one of the containers that were holding the colorful ornaments that they had picked out, letting Ming choose the other container. Hearing Ming mumble about it being too quiet, Kit snorted as his boyfriend put on a Christmas playlist, the once quiet room being filled with the cheerful sound of Christmas music. 

Working in silence as they listened to the music playing, Kit yelped when a sparkly bulb was suddenly tossed at him and the sound of Ming’s laughter met his ears. Glaring at his chuckling other half, Kit narrowed his eyes as a smirk rose on his lips. Noticing the shift in the air, Ming paused his teasing laughter and gasped as he was pelted with more than one ornament. Staring each other down with ornaments in each hand, the once peaceful atmosphere was interrupted as an all out war broke out, ornaments being whipped across the room as the two cackled and tried to hit each other playfully. Making more of a mess than when they first started, the couple landed back first on the carpet, their panting mixing in with the current Christmas song that was playing on Ming’s phone. 

“Truce?” Ming breathed out, throwing his head back so he could meet Kit’s eyes, who was still trying to catch his breath. Nodding as he agreed to the truce, the two stared at each other until their laughter broke free, the cheerful sound lighting up the room as they cackled. Sitting up when the sound of someone knocking on the door caught his attention, Kit turned his attention towards Ming, who sat up as well and looked around the room, biting back another snicker when he noticed the mess they made with the ornaments. “That must be the food. I didn’t hear your alarm go off.”

“I’ll get it. Start cleaning up the ornaments so we can hang them on the tree,” Kit ordered as he pushed himself off the floor and disappeared towards the door, his wallet in his hand so he could pay for their food. Letting out a breath, Ming did as Kit said and began to gather the wayward bulbs, neatly placing them in their containers so it could be easier for them to pull out and hang. Hearing the door shut, Ming caught the scent of soup that made his mouth water before Kit entered the room, the bags in his arms as he bumped shoulders with Ming on his way into the kitchen. “Let’s finish up the tree so we can finally relax and eat.”

Giving a playful salute to his boyfriend as Kit entered the room again, Ming began to delicately hang the ornaments, Kit doing the same as he let Ming handle the top of the tree since he couldn’t really reach it very well. Not too long after they started, the two finished and stepped back, examining the tree as Kit gave it a thumbs up. Picking up the star, Kit held it close as he looked over the gold and silver details the star held, along with the little white lights it had on the inside. Noticing how enticed Kit was with the star, Ming grinned and moved towards him, taking Kit into his arms and lifting him easily, Kit letting out a surprised yelp as he clung to Ming’s shoulders. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” Kit grumbled as Ming snickered, bringing his boyfriend close to the tree so he could put the star on top. Easing it onto the top point of the tree, Kit made sure it was secure before he grabbed the last two prongs from the top lights and plugged it in, the star lighting up as soon as it was connected. Wrapping his arms around Ming’s shoulders as he was done, Kit felt himself sliding down as Ming placed him back on his feet, his arms never leaving Kit’s waist as they stood close together. Staring into Ming’s eyes as the lights made them sparkle, Kit let out a soft sigh and buried his face in Ming’s shoulder, tightening his arms around his boyfriend’s neck as he shuffled closer. Nuzzling his face into Kit’s hair, Ming hugged him tightly before Kit pulled back. “Dinner’s waiting...we shouldn’t let it get cold.”

“I’ll get our things. Sit down on the couch and maybe search for some Christmas specials to watch?” Ming questioned, rubbing his thumbs softly across Kit’s hips, grinning when Kit nodded and released him from his hold. Pressing one last kiss to Kit’s hair, Ming grabbed his phone and turned off the music, walking towards the kitchen so he could get their food. Watching Ming leave, Kit licked his lips and took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at the tree, letting a soft smile rise on his lips as he noticed how good they truly did. Making himself comfortable on the couch, Kit turned on the television and searched for some specials, deciding quickly on Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. “Oh! I like this special! Awesome choice, P’Kit!”

Rolling his eyes at the childlike excitement in Ming’s voice as he appeared back in the living area of his dorm, Kit carefully took the bowl of soup that his boyfriend offered him, holding it close to his chest as Ming slowly sat down next to him, shuffling close until they were properly cuddled together, the warmth of each other and the soup warming them to their cores. Letting out a sigh as he settled close to Ming, Kit sipped some of his soup and kept his eyes on the show, letting himself relax as Ming snuggled closer, not leaving an inch of space between them. Finishing their soups, Ming placed the bowls into each other and left them on the coffee table, choosing to wash them later as he pulled Kit in close. Letting Ming pull him closer until he was practically in his boyfriend’s lap, Kit felt himself grow boneless as he too cuddled closer to Ming’s warmth. Smiling softly as another kiss was placed to his hair, Kit laced their hands together before the room grew quiet, both their attentions sticking to the Christmas special, the soft feeling of a thumb rubbing gently circles against his own making Kit’s lips lift up in a soft smile as the two finally relaxed for the night.

#2 moons 2 #2moons2 #2 moons #mingkit #My writing #writing commission #thanks for the commission! #<33333

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

The Backstage Pass (Out)

Hey everyone... this is still not an update of Do You Wanna Dance? but another pathetic attempt of me to provide you with PJ-related reading material... Sssooo, there was this post of @gardenofstoney... and I’ve always taken tags verry seriously. I felt addressed since the situation she described sounded absolutely like a perfect fanfic material so I ended up playing with the idea. One thing led to another and a Stone Gossard one-shot happened, which I hereby share with you (with her and @mookiebaelock’s consent). Disclaimer: may contain traces of Jeff Ament!

Ps. I solemnly swear I get Judy out of the shower soon.

„Are you sure you don’t want to move towards the side of the stage? These Vedder-fanatics seem pretty dangerous, I’m not sure I want to be here when they go wild…” Mel asked fidgeting with the setups of her professional camera.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m fine here…” Maggie answered leaning her forehead against her arms that were resting on the barrier. She was dog-tired; she and her best friend, Mel were cueing the whole day to get there at the show of their favorite band, Pearl Jam. Actually, Pearl Jam was their second favorite band but it was the rock group that brought them together. They saw each other’s introduction in the “Pen Pal Wanted” column of Footsteps, the band’s fanzine and the rest was history... And finally, they were there, standing at their precious front row places, waiting for the show to begin…

They agreed on standing in front of the center of the stage since they both had different preferences… Mel was dying to make close shots of her bassist crush (and maybe steal a few smiles and glances from him), while Maggie was interested in the other side of the stage… to be more accurate, in the person who regularly ruled it. Stone Gossard. The absent-minded, aloof alien who played the rhythm guitar parts and who, unfortunately, wasn’t the most responsive member of the band. He was said to be a sarcastic, hilarious and nice guy but at shows he just… didn’t give a shit about the crowd. He was usually absorbed in the songs, following the rhythm with his entire body, marching to the beat or just bobbing his head… but that was all. No interaction, no communication, just the chords. If Maggie had been alone there, she would have picked his side and stayed there as if she had been pinned to the ground… but Mel wanted to stand near Jeff so they made a compromise. Of course, Mel tried every kind of dirty trick to lure her closer to Mike’s and Jeff’s territory and Maggie begged desperately with her irresistible sad puppy face to move in the other direction, after all, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad… and Jeff would bounce around, anyways, she argued. But neither of them could convince the other one so they were stuck in front of the place of Eddie Vedder and they knew they would have to fight hard to be able to keep their position.

“You will defend me, I know.” Maggie cuddled to her friend, letting herself be pulled in a bear hug. She was short and slim, the top of her head barely reached the level of the tall Mel’s chin, that’s why they often joked about themselves being two dogs coming from different species but being allies and best friends forever.

“I’ll defend you just… not now, oh my god, ohmygod, they’re here, that’s him!!!” Mel suddenly let her go frantically taking one picture after another of her main target.

“Okay, I can’t win against Jeff Ament…” Maggie shook her head with a forgiving smile only to discover the object of her admiration appearing on the other side of the stage, walking around with a deadpan on his face. She couldn’t help chuckling when she noticed he was wearing a black socks-dress shoes combo... with light brown shorts. She’d already got used to these weird testimonies of his terrible fashion sense but he always managed to surprise her with a newer unacceptable outfit.

When the singer finally showed up too, the crowd moved forward, pressing the girls against the barrier… and from that moment on, they only had some rest during the slower songs. Not that they wanted to complain, they were singing along the lyrics, screaming, laughing, crying or just squeezing each other’s hand making sure they were not dreaming, they were finally together, having the time of their life, really living their favorite songs. Mel was overly contented with seeing the bass player’s manly moves in the tight tank top he was wearing and the passionate solos and dazed-off moments of Mike pleased both of them too, even if they were within the spitting range of Ed. But as time went by, they both started feeling the depressing thought that this would be over soon, even if they tried to fight against it by bouncing and screaming twice as intensely as before…

When Stone started playing the opening chords of State of Love and Trust, the crowd went completely nuts and Maggie had to tighten her grip not to be drifted… the pressure behind her eased for a second but at once, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head and lost the touch with the outside world…

***

Mhmmmm… what are these bright lights? I must have died and got in that shining corridor about which people who experienced clinical death always tell…

“Jesus, I go blind…” I mumble… or am I just hearing my own thoughts? Shit, this splitting headache, I’m definitely alive, I must have fallen asleep after taking in my migraine pill.

“Do you prefer low light?” a nasal male voice asks and as I look around, I find myself lying on a couch but I’m not in my own apartment, I don’t know this place. Oh, so I’m in a dream, nice, let’s see where it’s going…

“Yes, please!” I groan covering my eyes.

“Clouds roll by… sorry, bad joke, here, is it better his way?”

I take away my hand from my eyes and let them adjust to the pleasant half-light provided probably by a standing lamp somewhere out of my sight. When did I learn how to change the setting of my dreams? Cool… The owner of the voice takes place opposite me only to make me realize, I’m in a Stone dream, moreover, this time it’s a new one.

“Are you okay?” he’s checking me with the inquiring but still expressionless stare of a toad.

“More or less…” I mumble helplessly. Interesting, I’ve never had such a vivid dream about him, it’s somehow different, like I was in charge, I’ve never felt like this before while dreaming… Familiar melodies provide the musical accompaniment, I have to listen for a few bars until I recognize Yellow Ledbetter… but he’s here… and the music comes from…?

“Are we… at a show?” I ask suspiciously, I’m afraid that despite the realistic surrounding, it’ll turn into an incoherent screenplay written by my subconscious.

“Yes, we are…”

“But how come you’re not playing? You should be on the stage with the others…”

“I don’t feel like playing… I mean in that song, I have basically not much to do, I strum the same chords as Mike, it’s boring. At sound checks, sometimes I beg until I can play the drum parts, I’m a desperate drummer but I love it. But the rhythm guitar part is just… nah. Plus, I had to pee, anyways.”

“Fair enough.” I snicker. He’s such an awkward dork, even in my dreams. “Well, that happens if a musician is too busy with drinking beer at gigs instead of playing”.

“Excuse me?” he startles offended. That’s my favorite thing in dreaming, I can do and say what I’d never dare in real life.

“Do you think we don’t notice when you’re just fudging, walking around with the guitar and use the change of amplifier setups as an excuse to take a few sip of your booze? That doesn’t really count as musical contribution.”

“Ugh, busted. I try not to drink before the show though. Right as soon as I get onstage I start drinking. But come on, I never belch out of key, what’s this if not musical humility?”

I snort shaking my head and keep grinning from ear to ear. If he’s such a hilariously funny guy in my fantasy, how adorable he can be in the reality… I know he used to be an annoying, sarcastic little shit but when PJ got really successful, he mellowed down and made himself to the main target of his irony… The mixture of this down-to-earth humbleness and calm confidence was one of the main reasons why he became my favorite member in the band; in the band that only consists of great, relatable people, by the way.

Maybe I should use the occasion to have a chitchat with him, I could ask him questions about stuff I’ve always wanted to know… even if the answers are only the products of my mind…

“Do you see the world in yellow?”

Okay, maybe that’s not the best start but the colored lenses of his spectacles somehow distracted me and it just slipped out. He reacts with that short, amused eyebrow twitch I love… good job, Maggie.

“It’s a good question! It’s funny, nobody asked that before… but to answer it, I do, it’s like being trapped in that moment of sunset when everything is glowing in that golden light… but to be less poetic, it makes everyone look as if they were Lego figures, they have yellow head, y’know…”

The mentioning of my favorite toy brings back old memories about the times when I was building my own town with eclectic houses that served as the scene of the made-up action stories crafted by my cousin and me.

“I you were a Lego figure, you’d be a bad boy.” I remark with a timid smile and try to ignore the fact that my cheeks are in flames.

“Only if I were a Lego figure? That’s offensive. I was the member of the gang Newton Street Boys. We were the most dangerous guys on whole Capitol Hill, we terrorized the district by taking protection rackets from kindergarten pupils. They were scared to death when we showed up riding our bikes, I liked the banana-seat ones with the high handlebars - maybe a card in the wheel could have been part of it.” he chuckles playfully. “Anyway, why a bad boy?”

“It’s because of the scruff.” I giggle and reach out to pinch his neck but he leans away.

“Please don’t touch me.” he grunts.

Hey, brain, we had an agreement: if I behave decently enough in real life, you won’t throw any obstacles in the way of my naughty tendencies at nights. So if I want to touch Stone’s perfect neck, I’m gonna to do it. Period.

“I said no!!!” he repeats this time angrier when my fingers approach his skin again. What the hell???

“Sorry. I… I just wanted to say that there were those bearded figures… and you could get them mostly from the pirate or the police station series.”

“You mean they had an attachable Lego beard?” he inquires confused and excited at the same time; I’m sure he’s already forgotten the embarrassing intermezzo and is now desperately trying to recall the look of the little yellow dudes.

“Haha, no, it was just painted on their face. There was the moustache, the regular beard and the scruff that basically meant black dots on their face. And the scruffy guys always played the role of the bad boys in my stories. You know, the bank robber, the fleeing prisoner…”

“… the fucked-up musician… we should definitely have a Lego party once!”

“We should…” I repeat and we’re smiling silently at each other for a few seconds… I clear my throat and swallow hard since my mouth got completely dry, shit, it must be that damn gum-shield I have to wear at nights to prevent myself from gnashing.

“You want some water?” he asks walking to a fridge standing at the door.

“Fuck, yes, I’m dying of thirst.” I moan and I mean it.

“Here.” he hands a small bottle to me while he opens a beer can. I rather don’t make any remarks, the show is over, after all… But now that I think into it, maybe the other band members will show up too… I can’t wait!

I lower my head and press the ice cold bottle against my forehead. It feels incredibly good, that blinding pain is still pulsing in my head. As I direct my gaze onto the ground, I can’t help laughing again when I spot his dress shoes and the black socks tucked into them. The hem rolled down around his left ankle making the socks look like they were unmatched.

However thirsty I am, I can only take small sips since I’m already snorting at the next part of this weird vision.

“Anyway… before the others would arrive, there’s one thing we have to discuss.” I begin when I finally manage to force my facial muscles into a serious expression.

“Something that stays between us? Like a dirty little secret?” his face lights up with a boyish smile.

“Kind of, if your socks are dirty…” I roll my eyes. “It’s the footwear.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Of course yours, mine is normal. Matching boots, a totally adequate choice for a rock concert. But yours is just… criminal.”

“Don’t be rude with my shoes, they look good and they are comfy as fuck!” he circles with his feet comically.

“They do but man, look in that mirror!” I point at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. “You look like the mixture of an elementary school boy and a bachelor dressed by his mother. Shorts with dress shoes? How? Why? It’s an obvious no-no!” I scream.

“I have only these ones, sneakers and flip flops with me, which doesn’t leave much variation.” he shrugs briefly.

“You should have chosen the sneakers… as for the “f” word, I’m not even willing to pronounce it.”

“I always wore hiking boots in the earlier times, they were the most comfortable choice but they weren’t compatible with the heat on stage. And then, I got introduced in the magical world of orthopedic sandals but the band somehow vetoed them, I don’t really understand why... I was only allowed to wear them between shows and at soundchecks but at gigs, I had to wear the boots… Once, before a show, maybe in Atlanta, I can’t remember exactly, the sole of my boot separated so I could only wear my sandals… the guys freaked out about my velvet shorts-sweatpants-white socks-sandals outfit and obliged me to wear Jeff’s shoes during the show.” he recalls but I can barely listen to him, his hand talk and the fidgeting alien fingers are definitely more appealing than the image of Birkenstocks worn with socks.

As my eyes are glued to him, I involuntarily start playing with my hair but my fingers land in something sticky. I check them and glance at him helplessly, as if he could help me find out why blood is the next nonsense feature in this scene.

“Fuck, why didn’t you tell me earlier that you’re bleeding?” he shouts and rushes to the fridge.

“Because I didn’t know…” I mutter and can’t form further coherent sentences since he steps back to me with an ice bag and presses it to the back of my head… and he keeps standing opposite me with his arms laced around my neck. I’m desperately trying to look at the ceiling, the ground and the four walls at the same time, anywhere but him…

“This is too embarrassing, I want this to finally end… this is terrible.” I whisper in pain, fixing my gaze on the ugly shoes and working on calming down my hyperventilation with all my nerves.

“Hey, I just wanted to help! Just for the record, we don’t often let passed-out fans in the backstage, you were in bad shape and…”

“No, I mean, thanks and all but this dream… it’s going nowhere, it was funny but you entering into my personal space creates a tension that needs resolution, like a hug or a kiss or anything, this makes just no sense!” I blurt out, basically arguing with myself, the director of the movie.

“What? That doctor could finally arrive, you must have a concussion!” he gently tries to push me back onto to the couch but I shake his hands off me.

“What doctor... wait… the pain… the blood… is this… real?” I flail still hoping he doesn’t exist and suddenly disappears or turns into my real crush or Edge from U2 or whatever.

��You got hit with by a half-empty beer can and you passed out so the security personnel fished you out of the crowd. Since I came back anyway, I suggested that they should lay you down here until they get a doctor. You got a backstage pass by passing out. A backstage pass out.” he tries to ease he situation with a pun but I’m not really in the mood.

“No… the scruff… the shoes… the ki… I can’t believe I said all this bullshit, this is worse than a nightmare…” I bury my face into my palms completely mortified and stumble back towards the couch dizzily. Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice… Mel!!!

***

“I’m not going to repeat this again, my best friend is in that room so if you won’t let me in immediately, I’m going to fuckin’ sue you!!!” Mel pointed with her index finger outraged at the huge guy standing in front of the door of the dressing room. Actually, instead of suing, she wanted to headbutt him in the chest but she knew it would feel like running into a concrete wall. She’d already been arguing with him for like fifteen minutes but the guy was just standing there with folded arms, stoically bearing the threats and the various spells casted on him by the furious girl.

“Hey, Ernie, I think you can let her in, her friend has just woken up, it’d be better if she’s with her when the doctor arrives…” a top of a head with ruffled hair peeked out of the door. The security guard obeyed and silently stepped aside.

“Maggie!!!” Mel shouted and tossed the young man in the door away to get a free way to her friend. “I was so worried about you!!!” she captured her into a rib-breaking hug.

“I’m… I’m okay… Stone took care of me…” Maggie mumbled against Mel’s chest trying to point at the guitarist under her friend’s arm.

“Stone???” Mel screamed making both of them turn around without breaking the hug.

“Yup.” the guitarist waved clumsily with one hand at her, digging his other hand deeply in his pocket.

Maggie managed to tiptoe enough to rest her head on her friend’s shoulder, which allowed her to saw the door opening… only to recognize the other members of the band arriving back from the stage. The small group was guided by Jeff who stopped at the door exchanging a surprised look with the embarrassed guitarist standing in the room.

Maggie started silently shaking of laughter because she could already imagine what’d happen next…

“Uhm… Mel… I’m choking… please let me go…” she acted patting her friend’s back a few times. “I think you should turn back… slowly…” she recommended biting her lips to hide her amusement when she pulled away to see the girl’s reaction.

“Why… what…?” Mel looked back over her shoulder and… due to the bassist’s excellent reflexes, she didn’t land on the ground but in his arms. Jeff stared shocked alternately at the unconscious girl and the other ones, begging for help with his eyes.

“Jesus, not again… “Stone sighed facepalming.” She’s yours, I’m out.”

[100storiesin2020]

There's a raven in Fox Tower (her name is Chainsaw)

This is chapter 1 in a crossover fanfic for The Raven Cycle and All For The Game! Major spoilers for both series. Enjoy!

*****

Blue exited the court, racket balanced over her shoulder. She was sweating and tired and extremely proud. Henrietta High School had won their rivalry match against Aglionby for the first time since Blue had joined the team, and she was fully aware that she was responsible for it. She had scored 4 of the 7 goals herself, after all, and each one of them had been hard-earned. Her friendship with members of the Aglionby team did not affect the ability to play against each other. Instead, it made all of them fight harder, and made the game that much more satisfying to win.

"Hey Sargent! C'mere."

Blue paused without turning around. "What do you want, Coach?"

"There's a recruiter here to see you."

That got her full attention. Turning around, Blue saw Mr. Moore, her Exy coach, standing next to her mother outside of his office. "Can they wait? I'd like to shower," she said. She did want to shower, but more importantly she wanted to change back into her handmade clothes. They weren't just a fashion statement or a desire to be different. They served as a warning sign, a protective shield against people who might judge her. She didn't want to meet a prospective coach without her armor.

"Come in, Blue," her mother said, tapping her toe on the floor. This morning, during the daily card ritual, Blue had drawn the Knight. Maura had told her that she would be meeting somebody today. This person would open a door for her future, and Blue would need to decide if it was the door she wanted. Blue had asked for more specifics, but Maura had declined, always insisting that Blue's future was her own. "It's time. This is it."

Blue sighed in defeat and stalked over to the door, which Moore opened for her. The office was a bit cramped, because a room that was originally intended as a cleaning closet really shouldn't have been able to fit a desk that size, but somehow it had gotten in here anyway. Behind the desk was a tall man with brown hair and tribal tattoos. She recognized him quickly, because Henry was a dramatic little fanboy who was constantly going on about his sports teams. This was David Wymack of the Palmetto Foxes, and he was here to recruit her.

"You must be Blue."

"And you must have made a mistake, because you only recruit rejects, but I come from a perfectly functional home, thank you very much." Blue started to turn around and leave.

Maura stopped her, because she was standing behind Blue in the doorway. "What happened to your manners?"

The corner of Wymack's mouth twitched upwards. "No, she has a point. My recruiting standards are pretty well-known, and you're correct that you don't seem to fit the bill. But I've talked to Moore, and to your mother. You've had quite the year, haven't you, Blue?

Blue grimaced as she took her seat. No doubt Moore had told him all about the news headlines she had been in this year. If she was to be perfectly honest, it had been rough, and it had affected her and her playing. She nodded a bit. "Alright then. I'll sign if you offer me a scholarship."

"Blue!" her mother exclaimed, as Wymack raised his eyebrows.

"I'm not being rude, Mom. We both know I can't afford college without some help."

Maura sighed. "Yes, you've always been the sensible one."

Wymack had a calculating look on his face, as if he was mentally rewriting her backstory. It was a little too reminiscent of Calla, which made Blue very uncomfortable. What were the odds that she get recruited by yet another psychic? The expression passed and he slid a file across the desk toward Blue, who stared at it. It was a hideous shade of orange and it had her name scrawled across the front in some of the messiest handwriting she'd ever seen, and she'd tried to interpret Ronan's notes once or twice. "Well, then, here's the deal, short stuff. I've seen your stats. I've talked to your coach. And tonight I got to see you play in the biggest game of your year. Aglionby is Henrietta's biggest rival, right?" Blue snorted. With how much the everyday folk of Henrietta resented the wealth of Aglionby, a dramatic rivalry was inevitable. "You were in fine form tonight, and I know some college players that you could run circles around," Wymack huffed. "My striker handpicked you, and I think he made an excellent choice. If a full-ride is what you need to be able to come to Palmetto, I'm willing to pay it to get you there."

Blue turned to her mother to get her input. Maura had the far-away look that came during a reading when she was working extra hard to see the truth. She snapped back to attention and gave a small shrug, which told Blue that the earlier read still stood. This was just a choice. Not necessarily a good one, not necessarily a bad one, just an option that could be taken or left. Blue turned back toward the coach and stuck out her hand. "Deal." They shook, and he handed over some papers. "Thank you, Blue. Sign these and we will be in touch. Do you have any more questions? I'm hoping to catch some of those Aglionby boys before I go."

Blue froze while flipping through the papers, unsure if she had heard him right. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Run that by me again?"

Wymack snorted. "I'm just interested in a few of them. Aglionby is not the type of school I generally would recruit from," he said with a grimace, "but I'm between a rock and a hard place right now. The truth is, I have some seniors graduating next year, so I'm in desperate need of two dealers and a goalie. I've been to several other schools this week, but I haven't managed to sign anyone." He sighed. "Apparently they were already committed to another school or unwilling to deal with the reputation of the Foxes, and now I'm out of time. Spring break ends tomorrow and I need to go back to Palmetto, so I've got to take my opportunities here."

Blue considered that and looked at her watch, which had bands made of several colors of yarn braided together. "The game ended 30 minutes ago, so Gansey, Parrish, and Lynch are probably changed out and waiting by the front door. You can catch them while I go shower."

Wymack raised his eyebrows at that. "I was under the impression that you didn't have your mother's gifts."

"I don't," Blue replied, wondering just how much Wymack knew about her mother's reputation as a psychic. "It's just that Aglionby has a very small Exy team, since apparently upper society frowns upon violent sports." She rolled her eyes. "Those three are graduating seniors and play the positions you need." 

Wymack looked unconvinced. "Then how do you know they are at the front door?"

Blue shrugged. "I won today. They owe me pizza." She picked up her racket and walked to the door. "Good luck. I'm going to go shower." She slammed the door shut behind her.

Maura smiled softly at the noisy retreat and looked back at the coach. "It's nice to see you again, David."

"Likewise, Maura." David Wymack leaned back in his chair and smiled faintly. "I don't think I've seen you in a good twenty years, at least."

Maura snorted. "At least. I can't believe you swept your psychic abilities aside to play sports." Her expression softened. "I will admit, now, that you made the right choice."

"I would have been a terrible psychic," David stated. "Trying to impress people? Doing readings for entitled nonbelievers? Useless. Using my abilities to give my kids second chances?" His eyes lit up, and Maura didn't need her second sight to see his passion. "I make a real difference here."

Maura nodded. "You certainly do. So what exactly drew you to Blue?"

He scowled. "I didn't know she was yours, if that's what you're asking, nor did I know she was an amplifier. She's tied to something dark, something that happened recently. A death? Two?" He glanced at her, and she nodded confirmation. "I'm a bit foggy on the details, and I'm not sure that I can provide what she needs to heal, but I can at least open up some doors for her."

Maura laughed. "There's my Knight card." Wymack gave her a blank stare. "Do you have a place to go for dinner? Old friends are always welcome at 300 Fox Way."

"Fox way, you say?" He smirked. "I'm in." They stood, then, and looked at each other for a moment, passing unspoken secrets through the air between them. Satisfied with what they saw in each other, they left: David with a sense that his situation was resolved, and Maura with a promise that her Blue would be safe.

#all for the game #the raven cycle #fanfiction #crossover #aftg #trc #the raven boys #the dream thieves #blue lily lily blue #the raven king #the foxhole court #the kings court #100storiesin2020 #a chainsaw in fox tower

[gothamslimpestwrist]

s1e2 selina kyle

killcount:

“doug” the childsnatcher: “soldier” (homeless guy)

oswald cobblepot: douchebag college bro from the car, probably the other douchebag college bro as well.

jim gordon: quillan’s janitor

“patti” the childsnatcher: cat scratch fever dude w/ no eyes

episode total: 5 total count: 12

the dark knight rises: shit is clearly fucked in gotham. crime families are ruling the city, yes, but honestly that’s the least of it; look at the police force. we see that bo, the first responder, is late to the scene of the crime because he takes protection money from a local restaurant & gave them first priority (in other words, he’s a crooked bitch demanding a racket, AND it gets in the way of him actually doing his job). the cops are pretty much, explicitly, just an extension of the mob at this point. 

interestingly, we also see the start of an exploration of the wayne’s corruption; falcone refers to “the wayne empire,” mirroring the way they talk about the crime families And Also setting the waynes up as, like, a picture of the wealthy elite taken to a whole ‘nother level. gotham is the last modern vestige of the city state--and that is the wayne empire. who takes the crown now that the emperor and empress are dead? 

in OTHER news, the waynes really fucked bruce over. the murder itself was the lynching pin, causing him to jump over the fucking edge, so to speak, but he is Just A Little Boy! he is so troubled! he’s self harming and alfred yells at him and HITS HIM for being stupid, he’s listening to loud music and drawing fucked up shit, he’s both burned himself and is apparently cutting, and alfred, seeing all of this, refuses to get the boy who saw his parents shot a therapist, because the waynes told him to essentially let bruce raise himself. “the children are thoroughbreds,” basically. 

quoth barbara (thinking about essen shushing the child snatcher case in fear of bad press): “i can’t believe the system is so corrupt.” quoth jim (thinking about how he was yelled at for not beating a perp, thinking about the cop/mob connection that demanded he kill a man to prove his loyalty, thinking...): “you have no idea.” 

oh! and jim tells bruce the kids need more than money to keep them safe.

sliding scale of barbara kean’s sanity: she seems to be doing alright, but she’s troubled by jim’s troubles. also, this episode sets up some shit that will lead to irreparable damage later on; jim, even when he’s telling her things, isn’t telling her everything. she knows it. she hates it. he specifically hasn’t told her about oswald, which gives her reason to believe he’s a murderer pretty soon. plus, what she does w/ the information he does give her about his work (go straight to the press) gives him immediate reason to start trusting her less... and so they spiral.

sliding scale of ed nygma’s sanity: he’s a little bit more of a lurker this episode. creeps outside the captain’s office until someone notices him, lingers inside until everyone in the room makes it obvious he’s not welcome. he’s trying his best, but he’s not... very... “well liked,” shall we say.

continuity: montoya and allen are looking into the murder of oswald cobblepot. he was their snitch, after all. so that’s problems... many things are subtly set up in this episode: falcone and fish discuss maroni and his anticipated power play (adding another piece to the political chessboard of this season), the atp drug the child snatchers use is established to have been developed for arkham asylum, which is also established to have been closed for the past 15 years AND to have recently been in the works for a reopening, specifically by thomas and martha wayne. and that’s all just offhanded discussion. also related to the atp, when ed is listing the only three places that still stock it, it’s quillan pharma, drakatech (?)... and welzyn, which isn’t relevant at all to THIS episode (quillan’s the one dealing with the childsnatchers) but WILL become relevant to everyone in a few episodes, when welzyn manufactures viper. oh, and naturally the identity of the man the childsnatchers are working for: the dollmaker. hm!! on a lighter note, harvey’s ex-white knight tendencies that we explore in spirit of the goat are foreshadowed here; essen accuses him of leaking the child snatchers story to the press, w/ the reasoning that he’d done it before. after jim & barbara established that it was the right thing to do....

parallels: jim & selina meet in this episode. they are... The Same™. (look, i’ll come back to it later, but even tho my parallel in the pilot was btwn selina and oswald, and even tho they’re the two that are the villain counterparts to our heroes, jim and SELINA are the matched set.) also, this is the episode where fish expresses the wish that penguin wasn’t dead (because she wants him to suffer), but also she tells jim & harvey that she knew it was a mistake to order them killed as soon as she did it. so that means something? 

neither here nor there, but gertrud tells montoya & allen how elegant and well dressed oswald is, and bruce comments on the orphans’ scruffy appearances and buys them new clothes... we love a dandy, i guess.

characterization: we meet some irrelevant street kids that selina knew; zeb, smoke, and mackey (corey in the house). i’m basically using the characterization tab as fanfic reference so i might as well record that.

lazlo, fish’s lover, is relevant, in that falcone beats him to get to her. it definitely does affect her, though she says she only keeps him around for exercise. maybe more b/c of falcone’s threat and the fear of what it implies, though. 

and gertrud! ozzie’s mom. everyone connected to oswald, even outside (maybe even especially outside) of his mob connections, is a little twisted. she’s no different; she’s clearly a bit out of her head, she mistrusts the police (which i guess we’re supposed to think is suss, though really...Fair and Just), she’s got that almost creepy codependency with oswald while not really knowing what’s going on there. (other examples: elijah, oswald’s gothic horror father, martin, oswald’s lowkey homicidal son, edward, oswald’s fascist dog, jim, oswald’s corrupt boyfriend...) she also seems to think oswald has run off with some painted lady (actually, she says painted slut), which might be indicative of her experiences w/ van dahl and some unstable jealousy more than it is of oswald, who’s... you know. 

in other news, jim is all over the map here. he stops harvey beating mackey (and later, quillan, after they’ve already gotten info out of him) and protests that they should leak the story to the press, but he also seems content to keep his mouth shut until barbara takes doing good upon herself. he adapts to the mob shit pretty quick, but expresses disgust w/ the corruption in the system. he gets off on the wrong foot w/ mayor james because he disagrees with locking up the kids w/o a trial, but he doesn’t... step in... either. we see this willingness to compromise and bend the knee that means he’ll never be the hero gotham deserves. 

also, not to be a jim apologist on main or anything (ha, ha), but he’s just so... brainwashed. all this, & he still tells alfred that being a cop, which has thus far caused him nothing but pain & misery, is the “best job in the world.” because he thinks he’s helping people. (and he likes getting to feel like a hero... so where do the misguided good intentions stop and the selfish motives begin?) he also kills a man for the first time on screen this episode because for all its examinations of dirty cops... gotham is still, at the end of the day, Copaganda. in an actual moment of me drinking I Love Jim Gordon juice, jim is the one who advocates for bruce going to therapy, and tries to convince him to go personally, even when jim himself is too emotionally stunted for it to help him. 

also, backstory: harvey pegs his love life, saying, “high school sweetheart, then a bunch of hoes (read: eduardo dorrance) overseas only made you sad... and then there’s barbara.” he also calls jim a monkey riding a race horse; jim’s face is really good @ that. i misinterpreted the line about high school sweethearts back in the day to mean that barb was jim’s highschool sweetheart. this is on account of auditory processing disorder and also general dumbassery. anyway, the point is that jim is a boring, predictable bitch! whom i love.

...in terms of characterization from the episode that i don’t agree with, i can’t really see oswald writing all the shit that they had on his conspiracy board, lmfao. “crybaby brucie,” “gordon=STOOGE,” & so forth. i pretend i do not see it.

#gotham #text post #meta #jim gordon #season one #selina kyle

[laniidae-passerine]

~Bees and Flowers~

- A Ghosts fanfic

(Author’s note - I only have Tumblr on mobile so I can’t put a -read more- on and I’m really sorry for that!)

The light was shining through the windows, throwing a glow over furniture and paintings. The air was soft and slightly sweet, tinged with the scent of blossom. The world was new on a Monday morning and Kitty, lying on her favourite chaise, well, she couldn’t be happier.

Except.

She had been in the garden with Fanny a few days ago, a simple question on her lips. In return she had received a complex rambling answer - which didn’t really count as an answer now she thought twice - but one part had stuck out to her. She was walking away from Fanny, attempting to escape her convoluted bee-flower-not about babies metaphor, when she caught the words-

“And sometimes, Kitty, bees only like other bees.”

Kitty had been confused about that for the past few days. Of course bees only liked other bees. Bees could move and buzz and do those funny little jigs on petals. Flowers couldn’t. Why would a bee like a flower more than another bee? Of course, she had always liked both bees and flowers equally, but still - it didn’t make any sense. What was Fanny saying?

She let the sun cloth her in its rays for a minute more, allowing one of the few things she could still interact with hold her, mulling what to do with her bee conundrum. One option would be to have Fanny explain what she meant, but that could be more trouble that it was worth. Kitty was never one for trouble, and if she was, it wasn’t often. So not Fanny. Who else?

She could ask Pat but she didn’t know if he would understand. And she was never going to ask Julian anything about anything ever again, she had already decided. Kitty was quite sure all the things he’d listed didn’t even make babies and she was not ready to hear about them ever again.

The Captain might be some help, but for some odd reason, Kitty felt as if he might be upset by the bees liking other bees story. Better not then.

Who else? The plague people in the basement scared her, Robin would be no help at all, Mary would say it was all the work of the devil and Thomas would just recite poetry at her.

There was nobody else, she frowned petulantly, and that wouldn’t do. Someone in the house must be able to answer her about the bees and flowers, yes, someone must, but who?

Suddenly Kitty heard a curse from the kitchen.

“Oh Jesus Christ - Mike! Mike! It’s the faucet again!”

Alison!

Of course! She could ask Alison, dependable, almost all knowing Alison, provided she wasn’t being distracted. Kitty waited a minute for the cursing to die down before lifting (levitating? she was never good with her words) herself off the chaise. She turned into the kitchen, greeted with an Alison who had one sleeve dripping wet, and the other grappling with the faucet.

“Hello,” Kitty said.

Alison, who had clearly become accustomed to the Ghosts entering rooms (provided they said something instead of lurking) looked up.

“Oh, hello Kitty.” Alison pushed hard on the tap and it ceased spraying water everywhere. “What is it?”

“Alison,” Kitty began, before pausing, unsure of her next sentence.

“Yes, Kitty?”

“Well. Fanny said something to me in the garden, when I asked her about babies? And I’m confused about it.”

Now Alison looked slightly worried.

“Uh - what did she say exactly?”

Kitty took a deep breath.

“She said - well she said that flowers and bees usually belong together. But sometimes, you’re a flower and the other bees, they don’t want you. The bees only want other bees. What does that mean?”

Alison blinked confusedly. “Wait, am I a flower or bee or myself in this metaphor?”

“You’re a flower. I think. Maybe.”

Alison pulled her arms away from the sink and turned to face Kitty. Her face was unreadable for once, and she appraised Kitty for a moment, before deciding to speak.

“Kitty, do you know what being ‘gay’ means?”

Ah, now this was a question Kitty could answer!

“No.” She hadn’t the slightest clue.

“No, I didn’t think you would,” Alison replied, “so I’ll explain. Kitty, have you ever liked anyone?”

Kitty stared. “Of course I have. I like you, and Mike, and the Captain, and Pat, and Fanny, and Thomas, and Mary and-“

“Not like that,” Alison cut off. “I meant, have you ever liked liked someone Kitty? Have you ever loved someone?”

Kitty thought for a moment. “Yes,” she replied, thinking of many the people she had loved when she was young and alive, so Alison went on.

“You see, when Fanny was talking about bees she really meant to say boys, and when she was discussing flowers, she was talking about girls. Of course, those aren’t the only genders, but those two are the two that most people identify as. I identify as girl, and you do too, don’t you?”

Kitty nodded, and Alison took that a sign that she still understood. Now came the harder part.

“Well sometimes Kitty, boys like boys. And girls like girls. And that’s what Fanny meant by bees liking bees, and flowers liking flowers. It was just a metaphor.”

A short empty moment past, but then Kitty’s eyes implored her to explain further - and so she did.

“Being a boy who only likes boys means you’re gay, and being a girl who only likes girls means you’re a lesbian. And both of those things are perfectly normal, and it’s okay to be both,” Alison finished.

With that, a silence fell on the kitchen. An awkward, slightly uncomfortable silence fell on the kitchen. And then suddenly, Kitty smiled.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“Uh- pretty much, yes,” Alison replied bemusedly.

“Oh! So... what’s the name for people who like both?” Kitty queried, still smiling in her signature grin.

“Um, uh - Bisexual,” Alison recalled, reciting the name of her own sexuality out loud, the first time she had done so in the new house.

“Bisexual.” Kitty tried it out on her tongue, letting her tongue roll over the vowels and catch on the “ul” sound. Did she like it?

Yes, she liked it. She liked it a lot.

“I’m Bisexual,” Kitty said, decidedly, “I like bees and flowers equally. They’re such fun!”

Alison paused. “No, Kitty it’s not about bees and flowers, it’s about boys and girls,” she tried, not wanting Kitty to confuse herself by midday.

“Oh. Well. I like boys and girls equally too. Am I still bisexual then?” Kitty asked, desiring clarification.

“Yes Kitty, that does mean you’re bisexual.” Alison grinned.

“I’m going to go tell people now! Oh, I shall sing a ditty about it! ” Kitty exclaimed, throwing her hands to her chest in exaltation. “What rhymes with bisexual?”

Just then, Pat walked in.

“Hello ladies! How are you doing on this fine day?” He greeted them, polite as ever.

“I’m doing well, Pat,” Alison smiled, “but Kitty has something she’d like to tell you.”

“Pat!” Kitty cried, taking him by both hands and beaming. “I’m bisexual!”

“Oh! Well, that’s wonderful Kitty!” Pat returned, equally as happy to see his friend in such high spirits.

“I know, it’s great!”

Quickly, Kitty rushed out the room, yelling at the top of her voice. “Everyone! Everyone! I’m Bi!”

The sounds of Julian telling her to “join the club” and Thomas telling her “I’ll write a sonnet about it! It will be a masterpiece!” soon joined her yells and the house began to fill with call of excited chatter. It even sounded like Fanny was not entirely perturbed by such a revelation.

Alison, who was still standing with Pat, began fiddling with the sink in the kitchen once again.

“Well isn’t that lovely!” Pat said to Alison, as she reached for the faucet.

“Yeah, it’s great,” she returned, turning her head back to face him. “But I tell you one thing. If I never hear another bee-flower metaphor again, it’ll be too soon.”

————————————————————

epilogue:

It was empty in the left wing, all except for one man. He stood, curiously peering over the side of the banister, attention captivated by the sound of shouting. From what he could hear, his compatriots were in good spirits. Ah, but nowadays that was hardly a surprise, with Alison and Mike living amongst them. Yet whatever it was that was causing the noise was something most spectacular indeed. They hardly ever yelled like this, not even when he - uh, the film crew - came around.

He leaned over further, paying no mind to how dangerous it would have been (he was dead, what was safety to him now?) and suddenly spotted someone on the floor beneath him. He tried to make out who it was but then, they looked up.

“Well, hello there!”

“Greetings Julian,” He replied, rather wishing it had been Pat or even Robin instead. “What on earth is causing all that hubbub downstairs, may I ask?”

“Oh, that.” His trouser-less companion looked rather bored, not like how the rest of the house were clearly feeling.

“Kitty just announced she’s bisexual.”

The Captain froze.

“I’m...I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, she’s been running all down the hallways, causing an awful racket. I mean, I couldn’t hear the race on the radio over all of it. Ridiculous. And I had an imaginary fiver on Seabiscuit with Robin too! Honestly, there’s no need for such a fuss!” Julian was ready to continue ranting but then he turned up to look at his friend. The Captain still hadn’t moved, and Julian didn’t know any better about the physical states of death, he’d say the Captain had paled a little more than usual.

“God, what’s the problem? Captain? Captain!”

At the sound of his name, like if he was a video that was just unpaused, the Captain jumped back to life.

“I just... How did everyone react?”

Julian pondered for a second. “Quite well actually. I mean, Fanny threw a little bit of a fit, but that’s to be expected and she calmed down a tad after - now, what did Alison say? Ah, yes, ‘being gay is accepted nowadays, Fanny, and just because your husband was a bad person, doesn’t mean Kitty is one too. Being gay is perfectly alright.’ Damn right too. I mean, I moved in a lot of directions when I was alive, a bit like a pendulum but only really if it swung up people’s-”

“Okay, yes, thank you Julian,” the Captain intervened hastily, not wanting to hear about where Julian, most likely incorrectly, thought pendulums could go. He paused.

“Did, did Alison really say that being gay was accepted nowadays?” He asked Julian, trying to hide the underlying interest in his tone.

“Oh yes,” Julian replied, “Why?” He smirked slightly at the Captain, who flushed.

“No, no reason! I’ll talk to you all later,” he told Julian hurriedly before straightening up, moving away from the bannister until Julian was out of sight. He looked down at himself, and saw his hands were slightly trembling - in both fear and intrepidation. He replayed the paraphrased words of Alison over again in his head. It sounded a bit like a mantra, like a prayer, like a blessing to him and he clung onto it.

And eventually, as he walked back down the hallway to mull Kitty’s revelation and his own feelings, the Captain felt a small, tentative smile creep over his face.

#ghosts bbc #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfiction #ghosts #kitty ghosts #kitty bbc ghosts #alison bbc ghosts #alison ghosts #the captain bbc ghosts #the captain ghosts #julian bbc ghosts #julian ghosts #thomas bbc ghosts #thomas ghosts #robin bbc ghosts #robin ghosts #fanny ghosts #fanny bbc ghosts #mary bbc ghosts #mary ghosts #pat bbc ghosts #pat ghosts #fanfiction #fanfic #ugh its not that good #bi kitty au bbc ghosts

[heartslogos]

the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [93]

(303):  She's writing hockey erotica again. (719):  Tell her to pick another team besides ours this time. - (305): Look idk the rules and regulations of our freindship...but I need you to carry me to my car. -

“I have a feeling Edric isn’t texting you about how he found out about his niece writing hockey erotica so he could gather input on what kind of content people would be interested in,” Maxwell says, sounding skeptical as he passes Herah’s phone back to her. “Really? That’s your response? I didn’t even know you liked hockey.”

“It’s a bunch of people with blades strapped to their feet crashing into each other in an enclosed space,” Herah replies. “Of course I like it.”

“That’s not the point of hockey. I’m fairly certain the point of hockey is to get a puck into a goal. It’s like ice football.”

“Yeah, well no one watches for that. It’s for the controlled violence. Anyway, yeah. What else was I supposed to say?”

“I didn’t even know Malika wrote fanfic.”

“And why would you? You don’t know anything about hockey. As you demonstrated a few seconds ago.” Herah shrugs. “And it’s less fanfic more that she’s lifting certain details from certain teams to add realism to her original story. Her last set took a lot of details from my favorite team which was weird to read about? Because it was like. Half of it I was slipping into, oh this is about this player, and then suddenly there’d be this new detail slipping in and I’d go, oh right, yeah, not the same dude. Kind of jarring. I guess it wouldn’t be for someone who isn’t into hockey.”

“Alright — well. Regardless of that entire situation, I’m still fairly certain that Edric isn’t asking you for input on his niece’s creative writing pieces and is more asking advice on how to address it.”

“Then he should’ve asked for that. And I don’t know why he’d be asking me about it.” Herah frowns. “I don’t think Kaaras has ever done creative writing. Well. When he was like, thirteen he had a poetry phase but don’t most of us?”

“Did you?”

“Do I look like the kind of person who would have a poetry phase?” Herah rolls her eyes. “You wanna read Malika’s last hockey story?”

“Do I need to understand hockey to read it?”

“Somewhat.”

“Then I’ll take a rain check on that,” Max replies. “I think he’s asking you because you know about her writing and you’re the kind of person who could — I don’t know. Talk about it without wanting to turn the other way and stick your head in the sand.”

“You think he’s embarrassed to talk about erotica with his niece?”

“Pretty sure most people would be embarrassed to talk erotica period, end of sentence. But you’re not most people. So. There it is.”

“This is true,” Herah muses. “Never one to shy away from good erotica. Or bad erotica. Lemme ask Edric if this is a cry for help. On his part, of course.”

“Did Malika tell Edric she’s writing erotica?”

“Probably not. I mean. She’s open and pretty good at not being ashamed of stuff but even she has limits. He probably saw her computer open or saw one of her planning notebooks. Or her research documents.”

“Research.”

“The key to good erotica is research, Trevelyan. No one wants to be jerked out of the story because someone did something stupid and totally unbelievable. You gotta keep the fiction going.”

“It is fiction.”

“Yeah, but if you were reading something and suddenly people were walking on water using tennis rackets or some bullshit like that you’d have your suspension of disbelief rattled too. There’s limits to fiction, Trevelyan. Read a book.” -

“Leliana,” Cullen says when he finds her sprawled out on the ground. Leliana squints up at him. He has his pinched concerned expression on. “What happened to you?”

“How deep does it go between us, Cullen?” Leliana asks instead. “Will you help me without question? Or will you leave me here to suffer in humiliation?”

Cullen starts to roll up his sleeves, “Leliana. I’m not leaving you on the ground in the middle of a field. I was just asking. Of course I’m going to carry you to your car, whether or not you explain yourself to me. I’m pretty sure that even if we weren’t friends I’d do this for you.”

He kneels down next to her, firmly but gently scooping her into his arms. Leliana half-heartedly puts an arm around him. Cullen stands up, hefting her with a quiet grunt as she turns to walk back towards the car.

“You aren’t even a mile from Skyhold,” Cullen says. Leliana flicks out her keys, unlocking the car with the car fob. Cullen lifts up a knee and braces on the side of the car, struggling to get the handle for a moment. Leliana refuses to help him just to see how he’s going to handle it. He figures it out and manages to get the car door open. It’s a little rougher than Leliana normally appreciates people handling her car but concerning the circumstances she thinks she can be forgiving.

He carefully deposits her in the back seat of her car. Bless him, he even buckles her in.

She hands him her keys — she doesn’t know how he got here —

“Where’s your — “

“You’re less than a mile out from our property line,” Cullen says, “I jogged.”

“You didn’t even take that long.”

“I can do an eight minute mile,” Cullen says. “Seven if needed.”

“I didn’t warrant a seven?”

“My preferred pace is a ten.”

“Thank you, Cullen.”

“You’re welcome, Leliana.”

“As to why I was in the field, I got suddenly very, very car sick,” Leilana says. “I have no idea why. I pulled over and threw up. Then I decided it might be a good idea to lie down and the thought of having to drive made my stomach turn. You’re the only one I could think of to call that wouldn’t lecture me or ask questions or be judgmental. I think it might be those late nights and lack of sleep getting to me.”

“Well. I am slightly judgmental, but I’m not going to say anything about it,” Cullen says.

“Because you respect me as a colleague and a grown woman.”

“Yes, and because even if I said anything you wouldn’t listen to me. Is that why you didn’t ask Cassandra?”

“Cassandra is a walking lecture,” Leliana groans. “Don’t tell her. She’s already been on me for not exercising enough.”

“Well you don’t.”

“I’m busy.”

“You’re always telling me to delegate my tasks.”

“Some tasks can’t be delegated! I thought you weren’t going to say anything?”

“About this specifically,” Cullen says, “I never said anything about not agreeing with Cassandra and helping her to prove her point.”

“I’m calling Bull next time.”

“He can’t drive your car. You could try Blackwall. He’s not the type to lecture. It’s not like he’s got the room to judge.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

[plague-doctor-jules]

“Qui me defendet ab me terribilissimo ipse?” - The angsty Julian fanfic noone asked for

This takes place on a ship, sometime during the three years of Julian being a fugitive.

Triggers: Blood, self harm, self-mutilation, depression, suicidal ideation, hints of sexual exploitation, MANY mental health issues in general. If you do not consent to read such content, do not open the link.

He had sunk in again; into the mouth of that kind of madness he had fought time and time again, but never defeated.  It was one of the moments he dreaded anyone’s presence; even more so those whose opinion mattered to him. He was still human enough to wallow in a sea of sorrow, after all, and when that happened he wanted to go through the breakdown in secret, afraid that these moments of weakness would destroy the last traces of decency he had left if a prying eye ever saw him in that condition, like the one he was in that night.

The atmosphere was heavy from the smell of alcohol, blood and virginia smoke and the walls bared obvious dents of slammed fists and large stains, as if it had received some kind of liquid projectile, whereas the floor was littered with glass shards and crumbled pieces of paper. A bloodied knife was carelessly tossed to a corner, from where a trail of blood started, leading to the bed. Lying there naked, the plague doctor’s long, bony frame was half-shrouded by a soaked with blood and indian ink sheet, head hanging from the edge of the bed and the mane of unkempt auburn curls sweeping the floor. His deathly pale skin seemed even more sickly, almost translucent and his usually vivid stare was now rigidly fixed on the ceiling, as if the engravings there were suddenly the most fascinating spectacle. He barely breathed, or did his heart palpitate; nor any other muscle made the slightest twitch, save for his occassional blinking, and the tears which rolled soundlessly, mingling with the reddish roots of hair.

Upon the bedside table a sole sheet of paper, crumbled but straightened again, quill pen crushed next to it. The paper wrote:

The bloods of love shrouded me with crimson And joys untold overshadowed me with fear I rusted in the humidity of humans; mother afar -rosebud-oh! rosebud unwithering. At my road’s turn they awaited me, A heard of conflicting passions, and they tore me apart. It was a sin of mine to be able to love; mother afar- rosebud- oh! rosebud unwithering. Sometime, in the timeless void they half-opened; Ebony eyes In my insides- and they chained me in.

The poem did not end there, but the handwriting was even messier to the point of being completely unintelligible, and the ink was still wet, mingled with fingerprints of dried blood. On the doctor’s neck, the mystical sign was glowing; pulsating with light; and angry stab wounds on his chest and abdomen were already shrinking. New tissue had already started lining the inside of the larger one, filling in the hole he had stabbed into his heart. Ironic how sometimes physical wounds seemed to be the only ones healing, no matter how severe they were; for the gaping hole into his soul was still abyssmal and bleeding.

Julian’s tears kept flowing down.

I... can’t die... I can’t... I must be cursed.

This had happened many a time before, and each time it ended up the same bloody way. He would rise up some hours later or whenever duty called, appear and behave immaculate and make sure that noone could have the faintest suspicion of his previous state of mind. That was just a small price to pay for achieving to separate the “doing well” from the “being well” altogether; which he had been doing all of his life. But never was it so bad; never before.

I am a failure; I will always be one... I cannot even kill myself successfully... Why do I have to keep burdening this Earth with my existence?

After a while, doctor Devorak wiped his tears and got up from the bed. Stumbling, he reached the bedside table and grabbing at the piece of paper he threw it into the fire with a scowl. He looked at himself in the mirror; he was a mess. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot; and very very tired. He could barely recognize himself in the eyes of this weak, tired person who was staring at him from the other side of the mirror. God, what had he done to his vivid, filled with life stare? The rest of him was in no better condition, though. He had always been on the gangly side; but now he looked completely emaciated and sickly; almost as bad as he was when he had contracted the plague. Though most of his wounds had healed by now, he was covered in blood. His cheeks were stained with tears and scruffy to the touch; he hadn’t shaved in days.

Opening the drawer, he absentmindedly rummaged through his belongings. A small picture of his sister, back when they were children; that was pretty much the last time he had seen her. Some bottled leeches. A dried bouquet of wildflowers that someone had given him, though he could not quite remember who. A set of golden cufflings given to him by Lucio... the man whom he had supposedly killed. And a small pouch of herbs gifted by Asra... the man who gave him the curse.

Julian’s fingers finally found what he was looking for, and retrieved a straight razor. Julian stared at it expressionlessly for some seconds before he sat back onto his bed and started shaving with the languid strokes of someone who was only half heartedly performing a routine. Three years had passed; and yet, his memory did not seem to come back... though Julian wished he could somehow forget even more. The war, for instance. Or the time when he was captured by pirates. Or the plague. Lucio dying. Lucio using him and hurling him down the stairs like a rag doll after he force-fed him a plague beetle. The satisfaction and excitement in Valdemar’s eyes when he observed his scleras turning crimson.

The sudden sting of pain made him break free from the bad memory lane, and come back to reality. He idly looked at the nick on his chin, and the sign at the base of his neck that started glowing anew. That damn sign... Julian did not quite register his fingers leading the razor to it, until the pain came; as relieving as it always were. He ripped through his flesh desperately, cutting skin muscle and tendons alike; anything to get rid from that glow thaht stubbornly insisted on keeping death from taking him and putting an end to his misery. Finally the piece of skin was loose... But the glow was still far from fading, even through the blood; mocking him. Julian could only stare with disgust as the wound shrunk and disappeared like the rest of them, leaving no trace.

Julian sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a long time; as if he wished the world disappeared alonside with his vision. The sea seemed to be treacherously calm that night; much unlike so many nights before; when the tempest required even the doctor to lend a hand to the crew in order to avoid becoming fish food; and in the process he was busy enough to keep his thoughts at bay, for during a tempest one does not think; merely act and think about why acted like that later if lucky. However the waters seemed to be as still as stone that night; even the usual rocking that can be felt in every boat no matter the weather was barely there. The doctor looked around his cabin and sighed again; it was trashed. Shaking his head, he opened the door and stepped out, making a mental note to find a good excuse if someone happened to get in and see its state.

“Something the matter, doctor?”

The voice that sounded from across the corridor made him jump with surprise and he turned to see the ship captain peering at him; confusion turning into mild shock when he saw his bloodstained shirt and tear-stained face. “Was going out to take some air” Julian hurried, to avoid a cataclysm of questions that the captain seemed to be about to unleash. “I thought I heard a racket coming out of your room, but I didn’t think it would be that bad.... damn.” He only muttered, looking at him up and down. “You look like you could use a distraction.”

“I would, yes.” Julian sighed in agreement. “It seems that alcohol didn’t do much this time around.” he glanced at the captain sideways. “Why, you interested in helping?”

“I might be.” The captain replied, licking his lips.

Julian rolled his eyes. “Because you pity me?”

“Call it what you will.” he shrugged. “It’s your problem, not mine. Not that I care, anyway. You suit yourself, like the rest of us do.” he turned to leave.

“No no wait!” Julian’s voice sounded way more desperate than he intended. “Please... I need the distraction. I need to forget. please, make me forget, even for a while... I don’t care who it is, or why, just... please... hurt me... I want it to hurt...”

The ship captain chuckled darkly. “That sounds more like it.” He grabbed Julian by the shoulders and pinned him roughly on the wall.

And Julian did not bring any resistence.

((title translation: “...Who defends me from myself, who is the most terrible of all?”))

#julian #fanfiction #julian devorak #the arcana #the arcana game

[hymn2000]

Freeze - MCU AU Fanfic - C16

(Title subject to change)

Previous chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Story synopsis:- When a burst gas main destroys everything and leaves Peter with nothing, the Stark’s take him in. Thrown together by necessity, they then need to try to keep it together and build a new life. Devastated by loss, Peter doesn’t make things easy for them, and Loki and Tony struggle with their own grief and the responsibility of having someone completely dependant on them.

Chapter description:- Peter accepts his place at St Hendricks, but as the first day approaches, he feels like he’s made a horrible mistake

Story warnings/themes: character death, hurt/comfort, trauma, grief, depression/mental health issues, bullying, corporal punishment

Relationships: Frostiron (Loki x Tony) (romantic), Tony and Peter (platonic), Loki and Peter (platonic)

From the same AU as Called To Be A Rock

Chapter 16 - It’s Complicated But Understand Me

-

Tony let Peter think. He was busy thinking too, but more about his absent husband and less about the school. To him, the school was easy. It was a great school and they wanted Peter. Giving the kid a choice was a bit of a trust exercise: he knew that if he had any sense, he'd accept the place. 

Loki was far more tricky. He'd sent a few postcards, all with impersonal messages, and from locations with little to no correlation. At first it had seemed like a redo of the honeymoon, but soon the postcards came from other places. He never wrote more than a sentence, and he never gave a return address.

Tony didn't know where to start. Loki had, on occasion, disappeared for a day or two. But when he did this, he always took his phone, kept in touch, and told Tony exactly where he was. He never went out of the country without prior notice, and he had never done anything like this before. Tony couldn't guess where he was going to go next. Truthfully, he wanted to leave him to it, let him sort himself out. But, he also wanted more than one line scribbled in a different language on a postcard. He wanted to know he was ok. He wanted to know that he was definitely coming back soon. He'd promised in his initial letter, but that didn't mean anything. Even if he kept to his promise, he might not be back for years. That was something Tony had to face up to. His husband had walked out on him, and he didn't know if he was going to come back. And if he did come back, he didn't know whether he'd be back for good. 

- 

Peter spent most of Saturday and Sunday at the library. One benefit of not being at school was that he could go there. Tony never had a problem with it, provided that he was back at a reasonable time. Peter had grown fond of Abby, the librarian, and was happy spending his days talking to her, and sitting in the armchair reading and forgetting the world.

- 

On Sunday evening, Tony sat down in the kitchen with Peter. 

"Have you made a decision about St Hendricks yet?" 

Peter shrugged. He'd been trying not to think about it. 

"You know we have to let them know tomorrow. You need to decide. It's high time you were back at school anyway. You've been sitting around the house for long enough" 

"I haven't been sitting around the house: I've been at the library" Peter pointed out. 

"Don't be pedantic. Now, please, have another think about St Hendricks" he checked his watch. "It's six o' clock now. I want an answer by no later than eight. Ok?" 

Peter nodded. 

"Ok. Off you go, then" 

Peter went off to his room and flopped down on the bed. He thought about St Hendricks. He thought about the head teacher and the boarding master and the legality of corporal punishment and the uniforms and the social class. He thought about the science lab and the drama studio and the swimming pool and the locker room. He thought about the old wooden doors and the stone walls and the sports fields. 

And he thought about Tony. He might be pretending everything was ok, but Peter still heard him crying at night. He knew Tony was heartbroken. And he also knew he was doing his best despite that. He thought about the look on his face while they were looking round St Hendricks. He thought about how impressed and hopeful he had seemed. 

Part of Peter wanted to reject the school. He didn't want to be lumped in with a load of rich kids and strict teachers. He didn't want to sit in a classroom day after day pretending he cared about schoolwork and trying to keep up appearances. It would save Tony money too. Peter had seen the list of school fees they'd been given, and he'd been surprised and a little bit horrified to find just how much they were. He knew Tony was rich, unbelievably so, but he still didn't understand how he could be happy shelling out thousands of dollars a term for his education. Maybe he was mad. 

- 

Peter stayed quiet all through dinner. He stayed quiet while he washed up and helped tidy the kitchen. He stayed quiet when they went to the living room and put the telly on while Tony started looking at spreadsheets on his laptop. He kept an eye on the time. 

At eight o' clock, Tony closed his laptop and turned to the boy. 

"It's eight o' clock, sweetheart" 

Peter looked at him. He really, really didn't want to go. He swallowed hard, and opened his mouth to say so. 

"Ok" 

He surprised himself, and Tony looked at him. 

"Ok? Is that a yes?" 

Peter paused. He wanted so badly to shake his head. But he looked at Tony, and he knew just how disappointed he'd be if he did. So he nodded. 

"Yes. I-I'll accept the place" 

Tony moved his laptop aside and hugged the boy close. "We'll get you kitted out this week then, son" 

Peter rested his chin on Tony's shoulder and closed his eyes. This was a mistake, he just knew it. It would be just like the last school. 

- 

Peter did hope that Tony might change his mind. He woke up late on Monday morning, and went through to the kitchen, still half asleep. 

"It's all sorted" Tony said, smiling at him. "You're starting next Monday" 

"What?!" Peter exclaimed, suddenly wide awake. "But I'm not ready! It's too soon!" 

"Peter, darling. You've had time. Your bruises are mostly gone. We'll get your uniform and everything else this week, and we'll be fully prepared and ready for you to start"

"But-" 

"Ah, now don't argue with me. You have to start some time, and I rather think sooner is better than later" 

Peter tried to think of an excuse. "But what about Loki?" 

This comment stopped Tony in his tracks. He was quiet for a moment, but then swallowed very hard and looked at him properly. 

"We don't know when he's coming back, if at all" Tony said. "We can't wait around just so he can send you off in the morning. No, you'll start on Monday"

"No! I don't want to!" 

"Peter, you will start at St Hendricks on Monday morning and that's final!" 

He said it so firmly that Peter dare not argue. 

"I'll drive you, of course. It's a little far to walk, so it'll be lifts every day" Tony said. "They'll need to go through some stuff with you on Monday morning so we'll aim to get there early. Hey, I'm up to date with my work, so maybe we should go out now and get a few bits" 

"Oh. Um, well, I was gonna go the the library" 

"Ok, ok. Tomorrow then?" 

Peter nodded. He supposed they'd have to go sooner or later. 

- 

The next few days were an uncomfortable mad rush. Tony had a great time - Peter did not. He was pushed from shop to shop and grew more and more stressed by the minute. He got stroppy with Tony, but Tony didn't let it put him off. He stayed calm and fairly happy for three days of shopping, excited by the prospect of Peter starting at a school like St Hendricks. 

On Thursday night, Peter sat on the bed and looked at all of his new things. He felt that, by rights, he should be excited. But he wasn't. He looked at his new shoes and satchel and pencil case and stationary set. He looked at his new notebook and water bottle and trainers and football boots. He looked at his tennis and badminton rackets, at his lacrosse and hockey sticks and his various PE uniforms. He looked at his actual uniform, hung up on the wardrobe, with its painfully smart shirt and trousers, it's burgundy and navy striped blazer, and its tie. There was no mistaking that it was anything other than a private school uniform. He was adamant that he'd never wear the hat. 

He looked at all the extras, the new socks and underwear and an expensive wrist watch. He looked at the towel and PE kit bag and the hand sanitiser and box of plasters and gloves and boiled sweets. He looked at his new wallet and tin of shoe polish. 

And he hated all of it. 

- 

With all the shopping done, Peter escaped and went to the library on Friday. Abby quickly realised he was upset. 

"What's the matter, chicken?" 

"I'm starting school on Monday. Dad's gone and got me a whole load of new stuff. I know I should be grateful, and I kinda am, but I just, I'm just..."  

"Scared?" 

Peter nodded. "What if it all goes wrong?" 

"What if it doesn't?"

Peter blinked. "I really don't want to go" 

"I know, chicken. But you don't have a choice. You need your education" 

"I know. But I don't think I can. Everything is still so difficult" 

"You need to let yourself heal" she gave him a hug. "When my Martha died, God rest her soul, I spent a long time refusing to recover. Once you make the decision to move on, it'll get easier. It will still hurt, and you'll still miss her, of course you will. But it will move to the back of your mind. Maybe having something to occupy yourself will help" 

"I hope you're right...”

“But you don’t think I am, do you?”

Peter shrugged slightly. “It’s all so hard. I didn’t realise I was so weak until it happened”

“I don’t think you’re weak. You’re allowed to struggle, and you’re allowed to grieve”

Peter sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to go. I’m just fed up”

“Of course you are. Is that why you come here? To escape from it all?”

“Kind of. Being here, that first time, it was the happiest I’d felt since the accident. It’s kinda comforting... It is an escape though. I don’t like home much right now. I’ve got to go to the doctors this afternoon too. I don’t want to do that either”

“We all have to do things we don’t want to do. Sometimes those things we don’t want to do turn out to be for the best. You just have to stick at it. Things do get better, you know”

-

Tony picked Peter up from the library in time to take him to the doctors for his jabs. In the car on the way home, he brought up one of Peter’s most hated subjects.

“The school has registered you with their on-site therapist”

“What?! But dad, I said I don’t want to talk to anyone!”

“Yes, and that’s exactly why I think you should. It really does help. You’ll have two sessions a week, and then it’ll go down depending on your progress”

Peter stared at him. “Please don’t do this! Call them up and say you’ve changed your mind”

“No. Now stop arguing. It’s about time you learnt how to do as you’re told”

Peter folded his arms over his chest and turned away from him. Tony sighed.

“Look, sometimes when I make you do things you don’t want to do, it really is for the best. We need to be proactive about your recovery” 

Peter didn’t say anything.

“Look, kid, I care about you. I’m only trying to do what’s best”

“Have you had any more postcards?”

Tony sighed heavily. “The postman hadn’t been when I left”

-

The postman had been when they returned to the house. There was a padded envelope on the doorstep. Tony opened it, and found another smaller padded envelope, addressed to Peter. 

“Here, this is yours” he handed it to the boy, taking the postcard out of the big envelope.

It wasn’t quite a postcard, although the back was set out like one. It was a photograph of Pooley Bridge. There was no real message this time, just ‘Loki xxx’ written on the back.

“What does it say?” Peter asked.

Tony showed him. “What’s in yours?”

“Oh. Um”

Peter opened the envelope, and found a big bag of flying saucer sweets. A note on scrap paper was taped to it, which read ‘sorry’ in Loki’s familiar writing. Peter read that one word over and over.

“He hasn’t forgotten” Peter said eventually. 

“No” Tony said, looking back at the photograph in his hand. “He hasn’t”

-

Peter lost it on Sunday night. Absolutely, flat-out, lost it. 

“Hey hey hey, come on now, what’s all that noise about?” Tony hugged him tight, rubbing his back. “Come on now. Have you hurt yourself?”

“I don’ wanna go to school!”

“That’s what this is about?” Tony took a very deep breath. “Darling, come on, quiet now. It’s gonna be fine. There won’t be another Ryan”

“How do you know?!”

“I just do”

He didn’t, of course: he just hoped. He needed Peter to settle. He was willing to look after him, but all of the disturbed nights from Peter’s nightmares were beginning to take their toll.

“Listen to me, Peter. If you keep convincing yourself that it’s going to be horrible and that you’ll hate it, then it will be, and you will. So you need to go in with an open mind. It could be fun?” he tried.

“How could it possibly be fun?” Peter cried. “I don’ wanna go to some jolly-hockey-sticks posh-nob school”

“You’ve already accepted the place. You’re going. I know you’re scared, and I know you’re hurting, but you haven’t got a choice. Come on, stop crying now. You need to have a bath and an early night”

“What’s the point?”

“Peter, don’t be difficult” 

“I’m not being difficult!”

“Yes, you are” Tony said, holding him at arms length. “Stop”

Peter sniffed, wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve. He kept his hand up by his mouth, trying to calm down. 

“Breathe” Tony went over to the sink, filling him a glass of water. “Here”

Peter took the glass and took a gulp.

“Ah, you’ll give yourself hiccups. Just sip it. Slowly”

Peter did as he was told. He was tired out.

“Good. Right. Sit down”

Peter did. Tony sat next to him, stroking his hair back over his sweaty forehead.

“You’re so thin now, son” he said sadly. “What happened to my sparky little lad who could quite easily eat me out of house and home?”

“A building fell on his head”

Tony flinched slightly. “Peter. It’s nearly April now”

Peter knew what he was getting at. The accident had happened nearly three months ago. Sometimes it felt like much longer. Sometimes it felt like it had only happened last week.

“The therapy sessions will help” Tony said. “You’ll get better. I just think you need some help”

“What if I never get better?”

“You will. I did. And... Loki did... You’re allowed to move on, you know”

“I thought I was dead”

Tony drew his hand back. “What?”

“When I woke up. And it was all cloudy and foggy and dusty and there were flashing lights and unrecognisable voices and everything felt heavy”

Tony squeezed his shoulder.

“I texted Ned today” Peter said. “I don’t know why. I hadn’t replied for ages”

“What did you say?”

Peter took his phone out, opening the right message and showing it to him. 

[Ned] Flash asked after you today! D: o: 

[Peter] Hey Ned. Sorry I haven’t been replying. I’m not trying to cut you off. I’m just having a hard time. I’m not coming back to Midtown. I went to another school for a while but it didn’t work out. I’m starting another one on Monday. Hope everything is ok with you

[Ned] It’s good to hear from you! Good luck on Monday! Maybe we can meet up soon? 

“You haven’t replied to this last one”

“I couldn’t think of what to say. I never can” 

Tony handed him the phone back. “Go and have your bath”

-

Peter would let Tony say goodnight. He slammed his bedroom door and insisted on being left alone. As he attempted to settle down and sleep, his mind was filled with the book he’d just finished. He’d found it on Loki’s shelves in the reading nook, a childs book about two girls who move to a boarding school with their parents. He’d started it because of the school, but got more than he bargained for. The final twist saw the death of one of the sisters as she plummeted from the school tower, and this swamped Peter’s mind. He’d cried reading the final chapter, and he screwed his face up now, trying to block out the feeling of falling. 

He fell asleep, but the story invaded his subconscious. Looking back, he wasn’t sure if, in the dream, he was experiencing it, or if he was the girl from the book. He was tangled in hot and cold, balancing precariously, the evening wind blowing in his face as the window disappeared. He heard the screams, saw the bright flashes from fireworks filling the sky. The crowd shrieked, and he shouted to let them know it was only him, tugging the shawl from his head, tugging too hard - wobbling, slipping, falling. All in a second, he watched the tower window get further away, watched the ground get closer, seeing his death, terrified, screaming - 

Peter woke up, tangled in his bedding, still screaming in the pitch black, trapped between dream and reality, unable to see, unable to breathe, unable to see what was real and what was not.

In an instant strange light flooded the room, hands untangled him from the quilt and pulled him close. 

“Hey, ok, ok darling, I’ve got you, you’re ok”

“No! No! Help, please help, don’t let me fall! I’m sorry, Pearl! Help!!” Peter screamed.

Tony held him tight, stroking his hair firmly. “It was just a dream. It was only a dream. I’ve got you. You’re safe, Peter. You’re safe with me”

Peter stopped screaming, coming back to reality, and starting to sob instead. Tony rocked him, trying to calm here.

“There now, sweetheart. Shh. It was just a dream”

He couldn’t help thinking that something had to be done about these nightmares. He knew Peter would refuse a doctors appointment, but maybe he’d have to force him, just this once. It wasn’t that he was fed up comforting and looking after the boy; it was just that the disturbed nights were wearing him out. 

-

Once Peter had stopped crying, Tony gently pushed him off his lap so they could talk face-to-face. 

“There now. Are you alright?”

Peter wiped his face with his sleeve and said nothing. 

“Sweetheart. Talk to me”

“I’m so scared... I can’t go to this school, I just can’t”

“What happened in your nightmare?” 

Peter turned his head away. He didn’t want to talk about it, and Tony realised this.

“Ok. Whatever it was, it was just a dream. Nothing more” he checked his watch. “It’s late, and you’ve got to be up in the morning. Let’s get you a drink and then see if you can get back to sleep”

-

Peter had his drink and sat quietly with the empty glass in his hands. Tony gave him a quick hug.

"Ok, back to sleep now” he said, standing up and taking the glass from him. “You need the rest” 

Peter swallowed hard. “I can’t do this” 

Tony sighed. “You’ve gotta go to school, kiddo. Look, it was just a dream. You’re fine. Go back to sleep”

“I can’t stop thinking about it”

“The nightmare?”

“The book”

“Which book?”

Peter picked a book up from the floor, handing it to him. Tony vaguely recognised it. Loki had read it before, he was sure. He flicked through the pages, catching a few words about boarding schools and attic rooms. He flicked to the back, reading the final event and skim-reading the aftermath. He sighed heavily.

“This is a kids book, an absolute work of fiction, and you’re letting it dictate your feelings towards St Hendricks. Please, just be reasonable. Reading drama books and making silly stereotype-based assumptions is so counterproductive. You’re just working yourself up into a silly state over nothing”

“It might be a drama but it’s not fantasy! It could happen, you know it could!”

“No it couldn’t. Now stop being so silly. You’ve been offered a place at a prestigious private school - which you accepted - which will set you up for life. It’s an incredible opportunity and you need to understand how lucky you are to be presented with it”

“That’s what they said in the book” Peter mumbled.

“Will you just forget the silly book, please?” he turned the book over in his hands, glancing at the blurb. “Next time you want to read something, bring it to me first so I can decide whether or not it’s suitable. I don’t care if it’s kids books; if they’re giving you nightmares, I’m not letting you read them”

“The thought of school is what’s giving me nightmares”

“The sooner you start your lessons and counselling sessions, the better. Settle down. I’m going back to bed soon” 

“I don’ wanna be alone...” Peter whimpered, knuckling his eyes.

Tony sighed. “Ok, alright, alright. I’ll stay with you”

He made Peter lie down and climbed into bed beside him, tucking him in and holding him close. 

“Now go to sleep”

-

Peter felt sick when he woke up. Truly, dreadfully sick. His head was banging, his throat was sore, his mouth was dry, and he felt weird and shaky.

“Let’s get your breakfasted” Tony said. “Before you get dressed. I don’t want you spilling stuff all down your new uniform”

Peter looked at his uniform, set out waiting for him. It made him feel even worse.

“I don’t feel well...” he croaked.

“You’re just nervous. You’ll feel better with a full stomach, trust me. Come on, get up! Big day today!”

Peter stayed where he was, shivering. Tony felt his forehead.

“You’re fine. We’ll have breakfast, and then you can have a quick wash and get dressed. We’ve got plenty of time yet”

-

Peter felt a lot less ill after having breakfast and a wash, but he still felt sick with nerves. He was scared, and he didn’t know how to deal with it, so he kicked off. 

“Peter, how many times? You’re going whether you like it or not”

“Well I don’t like it! I don’t wanna go to school with a bunch of toffee-nosed twats!”

“Peter! How many times do I have to tell you not to swear? I should wash your mouth out with soap” he shook his head. “Now go and get into your uniform”

“No! I don’t want to do this! It’s not fair!” 

Tony looked at him, feeling fed up. He knew he was playing up because he was upset and scared. The tears in his eyes were proof enough of that. Still, it wasn’t the best time for him to kick off. Tony grabbed him and dragged him to his room.

“Ow! Hey, what are you doing?”

“Well, if you won’t get into your uniform yourself, then I’ll do it for you”

-

Within a couple of minutes, Tony had managed to quench Peter’s anger. With the boy calm (but still crying delicately), Tony managed to coax him into his school clothes. Peter stood awkwardly, shuffling inside his new uniform. 

“I don’t like it. Why does it have to be so tight?”

“It’s not tight, Peter: it’s fitted. You look good, like a proper little gent. Hey, do your top button back up! Stand up straight, lets get a proper look at you” he twitched Peter’s uniform, tweaking his collar and straightening his tie and blazer. “There. Put your hat and shoes on”

“I’m not wearing the hat”

“Oh, go on; it’ll be dead cute”

“I’m not wearing the hat”

“Fine, fine. Get your shoes on then” 

He picked up Peter’s new satchel, checking the contents and nodding approvingly. 

“Why did we have to get a satchel?” Peter asked, wrinkling his nose as Tony did the straps back up. “I’m used to backpacks”

“It’s a backpack satchel” Tony pointed out. “You can wear it just the same. It’s just loads nicer”

Peter looked at the thin straps and buckle closings on the brown leather. Tony saw his face.

“It’s a lovely bag! Don’t you like it? It's a proper bag, not one of your chainstore rubbish ones that only lasts five minutes”

Peter knew. He’d been there when they’d bought it. Tony hadn’t blinked handing over $250 for the simple bag (“It’s real leather, a proper Cambridge Satchel Company bag”). Peter had objected, saying the $10 ones he always had were more than good enough, but Tony had said that if he was going to a proper posh school, he should have the bag to match. He hadn’t given him much say in any of his school supplies. Peter tried hard not to be ungrateful, but he didn’t like the satchel, or a lot of the other stuff. He still found it hard to understand how Tony could spend so much money on a single item without blinking. 

- 

"It's freezing out there today. Where did you put your new coat?" 

Peter whined quietly. The duffel coat Tony had bought him was another hated item. He'd shoved it in the back of the shoe cupboard, hoping Tony wouldn't remember it. 

"Can't I just wear a hoodie?" 

"Certainly not! I don't think hoodies are St Hendricks approved. Your new coat is lovely. Where is it?" 

"In the shoe cupboard" 

"Go and get it, then!" 

Peter didn't have a choice. He retrieved the coat, holding it over his arm. 

"Put it on then" Tony said. 

"Do I have to?" 

"Yes. Come on, you can't go out without a coat, not on a day like today" 

Peter reluctantly pulled the coat on. Tony did the buttons and toggles up for him.

"It looks good!" 

Peter wasn't convinced. "I look like Oliver Tate" 

Tony laughed. Peter undid the buttons and toggles, adjusting the coat edges. He looked at himself in the mirror. It was certainly better undone. He kept looking at himself, in his smart shoes and uniform and posh coat. He didn't look like himself at all. 

"Hey, don't cry!" Tony pulled him close. "I know, you're nervous" 

"I don't want to go! It doesn't feel right!" he went to wipe his eyes with his sleeve, but Tony stopped him quickly. 

"Not on your sleeve! Here" he felt in Peter's front blazer pocket, pulling out the handkerchief Loki had given him, and dabbing at the boys face. "You don't want soggy cuffs on your new uniform" 

"I can't use that in school!" 

"Of course you can! All the other kids will. Come on now, stop crying. You don't want to turn up with red eyes now, do you?" 

Peter focused on his breathing, and after a few minutes he was quiet. Mostly. Tony kissed his nose. 

"Right, I think we'd better be going soon" Tony said. "Did you brush your hair this morning?" 

"Um.." 

Tony grabbed a comb and dragged it through Peter's hair. 

"Oooowww! You're pulling my head off!" 

"Don't be such a drama queen. It's all knotted. Honestly Peter, have the gorilla's been at it in the night?" 

"I don't know, have you?" 

"Oi! Cheeky! Hold still, will you? It'll take longer if you keep wiggling" 

Peter whined and stopped struggling. It felt like Tony was carving grooves into his skull with the comb, and he was relieved when he stopped. 

"There" Tony said. "Much better" 

"Is it?" 

"Yes. Now" he picked up Peter's satchel and handed it to him. "Let's get you to school" 

- 

Peter sat in the car with the posh satchel on his lap, looking down at his highly polished shoes. Everything about it felt so wrong. 

When they parked up in front of the school he felt like he really might throw up. It was eight thirty. Tony had said they'd been told to get there early. They had things to sort out, he said. 

"Good morning Peter, Mr Stark" Mr Pipe-Fowler greeted them at reception. 

He had another student with him, a pretty girl in the top year with long blonde hair and a big smile. Her short skirt showed off a lot of long, thin leg. Peter looked up at Mr Pipe-Fowler instead. 

"My, my, you really are nervous!" he said, looking at the trembling boy before him. "Now, I've got something for you" 

He handed Peter an A4 size whiteboard, thick with wooden edges, and a four-pack of dry erase markers; black, blue, red, and green. Peter took it, struggling to keep hold of it he was shaking so much. He looked at Tony for answers. 

"We understand you're non-verbal" Mr Pipe-Fowler continued. "So you can use the whiteboard to communicate with us. Now, these are also for you" he handed him a ring bound school planner, and a timetable. "We do things by week here. You'll notice that your timetable is split into week one and week two. It's always advertised in reception which week it is, so you shouldn't get stuck. This week is week one, so you'll be looking at the top timetable. Please take care of your planner. All of your homework slips and important notices will need to go in there. Now, I believe you've been told about seeing Miss Marns?" 

Peter looked at Tony again, but Mr Pipe-Fowler answered. 

"She's our on-site therapist" he said. "We've put you down for two sessions a week right now. Mondays and Thursdays. You'll be delivered a note telling you where to go for it" 

Peter looked at his feet. He felt embarrassed having it talked about to openly, especially in front of the girl, who was still by the headmasters side. 

"Now, Peter, I'd like you to meet Alison. She's going to be your Big Sister" 

Peter looked up, and Alison grinned at him. 

"Hey, Little Brother!" 

Even Tony seemed confused now. "Big Sister?" he questioned. 

"It's something of a scheme we use when people join us mid-term. At the start of a term, the children tend to learn their way around together with the maps, (there's one on the back of your timetable), but of course this doesn't happen with single children joining. Alison here will show Peter around, taking him to and from lessons, letting him get to know the layout for the first three days. On the last two days of the week, she will see him in the morning and afternoon, and after that, twice a week to see how he's getting on. She'll look after him" 

"Oh, I see" Tony said. "Well, that sounds like a good idea to me" 

"You'll be in form H3, Peter" he said. "Alison here will guide you" he checked his watch. "It's nearly time for registration. Say goodbye to your father now"

A big part of Peter wanted to scream and shout and cling to Tony and refuse to let go. But he was shaking so much he could hardly move, and his eyes were so filled with tears that he could hardly see. Peter looked at Tony. Behind them, he saw a girl about his own age hugging her father goodbye. No one made fun of her or started shouting things. Peter swallowed very hard and hugged Tony as tight as he could with full hands. He started crying properly, burying his face in his chest.

“I’ll pick you up again after school” he held him at arms length. “No tears, please”

Peter couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to be left here, not on his own. He wanted to go back to the house. 

“Right, be good” Tony kissed Peter’s forehead. “I’ll see you after school”

He chucked him under the chin, bid farewell to Mr Pipe-Fowler, smiled at Alison, and left Peter in their capable hands.

-

Mr Pipe-Fowler wished Peter luck, told him to smile, and left him with Alison. Alison put an arm round his shoulders and hugged him.

“First days are tough” she said. “I joined mid-term, just like you, in the first year. The thought of starting is always worse than the reality”

Peter didn’t say anything. He went to wipe his eyes on his sleeve, thought better of it, and used his handkerchief instead. 

“So, you’re in H3″ she said, walking along with her arm still round him. “Your form tutor is Mrs Hathersage. She’s lovely. She teaches English, and she covers Performing Arts sometimes too. I don’t think she teaches your form though” 

Peter looked at his new white board and pens. He supposed it was a good idea. He thought he should probably write a message to Alison, but he didn’t feel like saying anything at all. He was too scared. Alison didn’t seem to mind. She chatted away to him as she guided him to the H3 form room. 

She didn’t knock, just pushed the door open. The lady stood behind the desk smiled at them.

Alison grinned. “I’ve got your newest form member!” 

“Oh yes, Peter Parker, isn’t it?” She smiled, holding a hand out to Peter. “I’m Mrs Hathersage. I’ll be your form tutor”

Peter shook hands even though he didn’t really want to. He felt ok under Alison’s arm, but meeting new people still felt like a dreadful thing. He glanced round the room. It was surprisingly empty, with less than half of the seats taken. No one was really looking, too absorbed in their own conversations. 

“We’re a bit thin on the ground right now, as you can see” Mrs Hathersage said. “Half the class are away on the Spanish trip. They’ll be back for lessons next week”

Alison gave Peter a quick squeeze. “I’ve got to go and register in my own form, but I’ll be back to take you to your first lesson”

Mrs Hathersage smiled at her. “Thank you, Ali. I’ll see you soon”

Alison gave Peter one final squeeze and skipped off, waving as she went. Peter looked at the space where she’d been, and slowly back to Mrs Hathersage. He could feel everyone looking at him now. It was only a matter of time before things went wrong. He stood there not knowing what to do, shaking like a leaf, tears still in his eyes.

He felt so alone.

*

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #frostiron #peter parker #spiderman homecoming

[boopnootofficial]

The Gift of a Memory (Mòrag/Brighid Valentine’s Day fanfic)

Hi guys! A day late, but I wanted to write a Mòrag/Brighid fic. It’s really long (I might repost it in 3 parts because yeah it’s long), but I figured I might as well post it. Also, the month name is a joke because of Amathatober, haha.

The Gift of a Memory

On Fanruary fourteenth, Mòrag woke up earlier than normal in Anastasia’s. Brighid wasn’t even awake yet. She wasn’t tired, so she figured she might as well get out of bed and see if anyone was awake; she knew Nia got up around this time.

Mòrag walked into the lobby, where Nia, Kora, and Sheba were sitting. “Good morning,” she said.

“Oh, good morning Lady Mòrag!” Kora exclaimed. She bombarded the driver with a ton of questions. “Did you sleep well? Why did you get up so early? Is Lady Brighid awake yet?”

Mòrag didn’t answer, because she didn’t know how to answer that many questions at once. “I know Nia gets up this early, but I’m surprised to see you two awake.”

“I know, they’ve been talking my ear off,” Nia stated. “Been talking about some Valen-something.”

“Valentine’s Day!” Sheba shouted gleefully. “Kora was just telling us about it. Apparently, it’s a day of love, when people express their love for others with gifts.” She paused. “But we’ve never heard of it before. We were very surprised, considering our goal of sharing love with many beautiful women.”

“I didn’t know about it either,” Nia explained. “We don’t have anything like that in Gormott, or anywhere else in Alrest as far as I know. Kora, where’d you hear about it?”

“I don’t know,” the talkative blade answered. “I’ve just always known about it.”

“I think it might exist here in Tantal,” Mòrag said. “I feel like I’ve heard about it before.”

“We used to celebrate it,” Zeke said from the hallway. “Good morning, ladies!”

Kora jumped up. “Oh, hello Zeke! How was your night? Did you sleep well? Are any of the other boys up yet? And Tantal used to celebrate Valentine’s Day? Why did they stop?”

“Calm down, calm down! One question at a time, please.” He sighed. “Anyways, we stopped celebrating it because no one here can afford to buy gifts for their loved ones.”

“Why does that matter?” Sheba asked. “Shouldn’t it be about love, not gifts? We mean, extravagant gifts are ideal, but there is nothing more beautiful than the heart of a pure woman!”

“That’s true, but Valentine’s Day was never really about that in the first place. It was much more about spending money than love.”

“He’s right,” Adenine, who had just gotten out of her room, added. “I’ve read some writings found in chests in the Cloud Sea, as well as in Morytha. They say that Valentine’s Day was good for business.”

“That’s truly a shame,” Sheba stated. “Well then, we’ll just have to recreate Valentine’s Day. We’ll make it a day about love, not gifts. No, even better, we’ll purchase gifts for everyone in Theosoir. Then everyone can give gifts to their special someones.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to use our money!” Zeke argued.

Mòrag sighed. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to stop her.”

“I like that idea, Sheba!” Kora exclaimed. “I’ll help you choose the gifts.”

“I think it sounds interesting,” Dahlia, who had also just gotten up, said. “I’ll help with decorations. This town is full of ice and snow; I can make beautiful ice sculptures all around Theosoir.”

“Although I’m not so sure how successful this will be, I’ll contribute,” Adenine stated. “I can find some love stories and poetry to inspire people to tell their current and potential significant others how they feel.”

Gorg ran into the lobby out of nowhere. “And I’ll help with baking!”

Nia stood up. “Whatever, you guys have fun. I’m going for a walk.”

“Nia, may I join you?” Mòrag asked.

“Sure, the more the merrier.” The two left Anastasia’s together.

 Brighid awoke to the sounds of Kora and Sheba’s cheers and the smell of cake. She noticed Mòrag wasn’t asleep, and wondered if she had overslept. She knew something was going on, though, so she got up to investigate.

When she went into the lobby, she saw Adenine, Dahlia, Gorg, Kora, Sheba, and Zeke hard at work. Pandoria and Pyra were also awake, sitting down at one of the tables. “What’s going on?” she asked them.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Pyra answered. “People are supposed to express their feelings for someone they care about.”

“Isn’t it romantic?” Pandoria exclaimed. “I’m usually not a fan of this lovey-dovey stuff, but the thought of being someone’s ‘valentine’ is so exciting!”

“I think it’s interesting, too,” Pyra agreed. “I wonder if there’s anything I can do to help.” Leave it to me, Mythra said to Pyra. “Oh, okay.” She transformed into Mythra.

“Morning, guys,” Mythra said. “I didn’t want to get up this early, but I didn’t really have a choice with all that racket. I’m better at the girls’ talk kind of thing than Pyra, so I figured I should help out.”

“Speaking of staying in bed, where’s Vale?” Pandoria asked. “Don’t tell me she’s still asleep!” She got out of her seat and went to get her.

“‘It would be good if Vale got up, since she could design some fabric.’ That’s from Pyra. I frankly don’t care if Vale stays in bed; I’m kinda jealous.”

“Vale’s help would definitely be beneficial,” Brighid stated. “So, what do you think about this ‘Valentine’s Day’ thing, Mythra?”

“I think it seems like a lot of unnecessary work. I mean, the whole reason Tantal stopped celebrating it was because of how material-focused it was, right? But here everyone is, working hard on Valentine’s Day gifts. But I suppose if they’re having fun it’s fine.”

“Do you remember when Tantal used to celebrate it?”

“Yeah. You were here, too.”

“Yes, it’s in my journal. But I wasn’t very interested in it. I don’t think I’ve been in love that many times.”

“You had many admirers, though. I don’t think you payed much attention to them, though.”

“That’s likely. My journal doesn’t mention love that often. And I know they didn’t annoy me, because I would be much more vocal about people that annoyed me. So, I must’ve felt indifferent towards them.”

“‘People that annoyed you?’ Do you mean like me?”

“You didn’t annoy me, Mythra. I just saw you as a rival. I’m sure you had many admirers back then too, probably even more than I did.”

“I definitely had a few, but I think you had more. I usually spent Valentine’s Day with Addam. It wasn’t really a romantic thing; we’d just get each other gifts.”

“Aegaeon and I like to do that every once and while. We’ve been doing it through many generations. We’re just friends, though.”

At this point, Pandoria managed to drag Vale out of her bedroom, and convinced her to weave some textiles for decorating and gifts. Azami was also up, working on bouquets; the one for her driver was the largest, of course. Perceval had begun to write poems, but he wasn’t as good at love poetry as he was good at poetry about justice.

While taking in the atmosphere, Brighid asked, “So, Mythra, what about now?”

“Huh?” Mythra replied.

“Do you think you have any admirers now?”

“Oh. Maybe one, but I think he’s more interested in Pyra than me. I think he’ll get us both gifts, though. Pyra and I should get him something, too.” Brighid knew she was speaking about Rex, but didn’t tell her. “What about you, Brighid?”

“Well, there is someone I’m interested in. I don’t expect them to confess to me, though. It’s not that I think they don’t feel the same way, I just don’t think they’re ready to tell me.”

Is she talking about Mòrag? Pyra asked.

“I think so.” Brighid stared at Mythra. “Sorry, Pyra asked me something. I don’t think our admirer is ready to tell us, either. He’ll probably just get us gifts and not say anything about it. That’s cool with me, for now at least.”

In truth, Brighid was lying to Mythra. She had no clue whether Mòrag reciprocated her feelings or not; she hoped it was so, but her driver’s deeper feelings were harder to read. After all, why would the Special Inquisitor of Mor Ardain, who almost became Empress, have any interest in her blade? They shared a close bond, but was it any more than that? Brighid wasn’t sure, and was too afraid to confess to Mòrag. What if their relationship was never the same?

Mòrag felt the same way as Brighid; she wanted to confess to her, but didn’t think her blade would feel the same way. With this discussion of Valentine’s Day, it made her more nervous about her feelings.

Nia noticed Mòrag’s nervousness during their walk. She stopped Mòrag, and asked, “Alright, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean, Nia?”

“You just seem off. I don’t know how to explain it. Does it have to do with that ‘Valentine’s Day’ stuff the blades and Shellhead were talking about?”

“Perhaps. I feel like today would be a perfect opportunity to express how I feel, but I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh, so it’s about Brighid.”

The Special Inquisitor jumped. “H-how did you know?”

Nia laughed. “It’s so obvious, Mòrag. No one else seems to notice, though. Maybe it’s because I’m in the same position as you, being too afraid to express how I feel about someone.”

“So, what do you think I should do?”

“I think you should tell her how you feel. Today is a perfect opportunity, as you said. You’d be a fool to let it go to waste. Just get her a nice gift and tell her. It doesn’t have to be in front of everyone, if that bothers you.”

“Thank you for the advice, Nia. But I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“When will you be ready, though?”

“You have a point.” It started snowing. “Let’s head back to the inn.”

“Good idea. I’m sure everyone’s up by now.”

 When they got back to the inn, Mòrag sat down at a table with Rex and Poppi. Nia wondered why she wouldn’t sit with Brighid. She had a feeling Mòrag was too nervous to do anything about her feelings, even though Brighid probably felt the same way. How could Nia get the two of them to interact?

“What are you thinking about, Nia?” Kora asked from behind, causing Nia to jump. “Your special someone?”

“Of course not! Kora, what should someone do if they see two people who like each other but are too afraid to tell each other?”

“That’s easy! Just play Cupid!”

“‘Cupid?’ What’s that?”

“I’m not sure who Cupid was. Maybe they were a blade. They had the power to make people fall in love, and were an important figure on Valentine’s Day.”

“Well, I don’t have that power.”

“Of course not! Just put them in a situation where they have to interact, and eventually they’ll be unable to hold their feelings in!”

“Are you sure that’s okay?”

“If it’s for love, of course! Just go on and try it.”

“Alright then.” How would she get Mòrag and Brighid to interact, though?

The smell of Gorg’s desserts gave Nia her answer. She ran into the kitchen and said, “Hey, Gorg! I just wanted to let you know Mòrag and I got back from our walk. Mòrag’s pretty good at baking. Why don’t you ask her to help you out?”

“Great idea, Nia!” Gorg ran to Mòrag, and requested her help in the kitchen. She reluctantly agreed, and began making cake batter.

Nia sat down at the table with Brighid, Mythra, and Pandoria. “Doesn’t whatever Gorg’s making smell amazing?” she asked, seemingly innocently.

“You’re right,” Brighid responded. “I wonder if he’d let me have a taste before everything’s ready.”

“Go ahead! I think Mòrag is helping him, too; she could sneak you something!”

“Great idea!” Brighid walked up to the counter. “Lady Mòrag, what are you making?”

Mòrag was surprised Brighid found out she was helping Gorg so fast. “Cake batter,” she answered coolly.”

“Can I try some?”

“Raw egg isn’t good for you.”

“I’m a blade, silly. Did you forget?”

“O-obviously not! I suppose there’s no harm in letting you try it, then.” Mòrag wondered why she was no nervous. After all, it was just cake batter. But she was nervous, so nervous that she was distracted from everything else. As a result, she didn’t notice that Gorg accidentally dropped banana peel on the floor a few minutes earlier and slipped, spilling the batter all over herself.

“Lady Mòrag!” Brighid exclaimed. She ran into the kitchen and knelt before her driver. “Are you alright?”

“I just slipped. Sorry for worrying you.” She paused. “I guess I have to start a new batter.”

“Well, it didn’t completely go to waste.” Brighid rubbed her finger across Mòrag’s face, and then licked the batter off of it. “Tasty. Make sure the next one is the same way.”

Mòrag’s nerves were heightened because of Brighid’s actions. She sighed, and stood up. “I have to go change first.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to change when you’re done baking?”

“You’re right. I’ll go wash my face, then.” She left the kitchen without her blade, who returned to her seat next to Mythra and Nia.

Nia didn’t know what to do. She thought her “playing Cupid” might have made things even more awkward between the two. However, she wasn’t about to give up. “Mythra, could you come with me outside?”

“Sure. We’ll be right back, Brighid.” The two went outside. “What’s up?”

“I’m trying to get Mòrag and Brighid together, and I don’t know what to do.”

“They’ll get together when they’re ready. No use forcing them into it.”

“Right, but Mòrag’s been acting awkward around her all day, because it’s Valentine’s Day. I feel bad for the two of them.”

“I guess there is something I can do to help, although I’m not sure how I feel about it. Pyra, you in?” Mythra transformed into Pyra.

“What are you two planning?” Nia asked.

“Brighid’s very competitive,” Pyra explained. “So, I’ll ask her if she wants to participate in a battle. Best fire blade wins. All you have to do is come in and say it’s not a fair match unless our drivers are fighting, too.”

“Ah, so Brighid and Mòrag will work together to beat you and Rex.”

“Their bond is always strongest when fighting. I think it should work.”

Nia grinned. “Alright then, let’s do it!”

The two got back in Anastasia’s. Nia sat with Tora and Vale; Tora seemed to be asking Vale to make a new outfit for Poppi. Pyra sat down with Brighid.

“Mythra decided to leave?” Brighid asked.

“No, I made her leave,” Pyra answered. “I was thinking about your talk with Mythra earlier, and I’m kind of jealous of the rivalry you two had five hundred years ago.”

“Oh? You want a piece of the action, Pyra?”

“Yeah, especially since my fire powers are way stronger than yours.”

“Is that so? Prove it then! Let’s meet just outside Theosoir, five minutes from now.”

“Great idea! It’s time to finally prove myself.”

“Wait a moment, you two,” Nia said before they left, causing more people to take notice to the situation. “Is this really a fair fight without your drivers? After all, your true potential is shown when with a driver. With drivers involved, we could really tell who’s the stronger blade.”

“I agree completely,” Pyra answered. “Rex! Let’s go!”

“A-are you sure about this, Pyra?” Rex asked.

“Of course I am. Let’s show her who the most powerful fire blade is!”

Mòrag finally finished washing off her face. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Lady Mòrag!” Brighid exclaimed. “Pyra has been insulting my abilities. Are you going to show her who really has the most powerful flames?”

“Why should we fight over this? We’re on the same team.”

“Come on, Mòrag!” Rex replied. “It’ll be fun. We haven’t fought in a while. We could learn each other’s skills and weaknesses.” Nia sighed. By making it about him and Mòrag, he was ruining Nia and Pyra’s whole plan.

“I don’t care about that!” Brighid argued. “We need to prove our strength, Lady Mòrag! After all, you’re the Flamebringer, not Rex. Are you going to let Pyra keep downgrading our power?”

Mòrag was suddenly filled with passion. “Of course not! To the battlefield, now!”

So, Brighid, Mòrag, Nia, Poppi, Pyra, Rex, Sheba, Tora, and Zeke walked out into the cold to be warmed by the two blades’ flames. The two drivers fought passionately. However, both were careful not to hurt the other. After a few minutes, the fight began to get out of hand. All of the snow was melting, and the two drivers were still fighting hard.

Beginning to worry about the situation, Sheba shot water at the four. Pyra, due to her ability to fight in water, managed to shield Rex. However, Brighid’s flames went out, and Mòrag was soaked. “Our apologies. We just didn’t see the need for this fighting. Today is Valentine’s Day, which may be a day of passion, but it is also a day of friendship! Besides, us women shouldn’t be fighting each other, but supporting each other! So, we knew this fighting between Pyra and Lady Brighid needed to be stopped.”

“While I appreciate you ending the fight, Sheba,” Rex replied, “Mòrag’s going to freeze out here! She’s totally drenched and it’s so cold.”

“The chap is right,” Zeke agreed. “We have to get Mòrag back to the inn.”

“I-I’m fine,” Mòrag said through her shivers. “Let’s just head back. There is still the gift exchange to go through.”

“Mòrag is right!” Tora exclaimed. “Let’s go back!”

The group walked back to Anastasia’s. As soon as Mòrag got there, she sat by the fire to warm up. Vale brought her a blanket to help her stay warm. The Special Inquisitor worried that Brighid would feel bad about what happened, but was still too nervous to confront her.

Everyone else began to exchange gifts. Zeke got Pandoria the perfume she likes, which made her happy; she got him a joke book, which he seemed happy with. Tora was surprised when Poppi got her a gift, but she said, “Masterpon is only Poppi’s driver and friend, but I believe that he still should have a present.” Tora gave her the outfit Vale made; he had his blade hide it soon after giving it to her, though. Pyra and Mythra got Rex chocolates, and he got them some tea from Leftheria. Nia got Rex a board game, and Nia received a book in exchange. And Sheba had gotten every girl in Theosoir a gift, using Rex’s money, of course.

After the gift exchange was over, Nia sat down next to Mòrag. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I thought I could help.”

“You were behind everything?” Mòrag asked.

“Kind of. I didn’t think you would slip on a banana peel or get soaked, though. I think I just made things worse.” She paused. “But you still should tell her how you feel! It couldn’t hurt.”

Mòrag sighed. “Because of how much happened today, I didn’t even have time to get her a present.”

“Does that matter? I’m sure expressing your feelings would be an even better gift.”

“I hope you’re right. But I want to do it once everyone leaves.”

“It looks like I have one more thing to do.”

“Nia—.”

“Alright everyone! Time for bed!” To both of their surprise, everyone listened; they were all tired after such a long day. Nia winked at Mòrag and headed for bed. Now only one person stayed besides the Special Inquisitor, and that was the one person she wanted to see.

The blade sat down next to her driver. “Lady Mòrag, are you alright?”

“I’m well,” Mòrag answered. “Thank you for your concern.”

“You’re still soaked. And I can do a much better job at warming you than that fire.” Brighid put her arm around Mòrag.

“First you were competing with Pyra, and now a fireplace?”

“This time, I’m competing to help you, not prove our strength.”

“I’m fortunate to share such a close bond with my blade.” She paused. “I need to tell you something.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“This is hard for me to say. Let me think of the words.” She hesitated, but knew she had to continue. “Brighid, I… I…”

Finally, Brighid realized what was going on. “Lady Mòrag, there is no need to say it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell you’re uncomfortable, so I’ll just say it for you. You like me, don’t you?”

“You knew?”

Brighid laughed nervously. “Of course I did.” She placed her hand on Mòrag’s cheek. You’re easier to read than my own journal.”

“Oh, I see. Then how do you feel about me, Brighid?”

“I feel the exact same way as you, of course.”

Mòrag was happy, but didn’t want to show it. “Today was so hectic I was unable to buy you a gift.”

“Same here. But this moment itself is a gift. This memory.” The two shared a kiss. “Are you warmer now, Mòrag?”

“You really are better than that fireplace,” Mòrag answered. “Thank you, Brighid. For saying what I couldn’t say.”

The blade smiled. “Let’s head to bed now, shall we?”

 Later that night, in her journal, Brighid wrote, “I cannot believe it. She actually felt the same way as me! I tried to act cool, like I saw it coming. In hindsight, the way she acted today made sense. But I was so nervous today, filled with feelings of her, that I could barely pay attention to her actions. I didn’t realize she had feelings for me until right before she was about to say it. Unlike me, though, she actually told the truth of her surprise. She has a reputation for being overly reserved, but this event makes me wonder if I am more reserved than her. A blade takes after their driver, after all.

“One day, she shall know the truth. I have never felt this way about anyone, let alone a driver. I imagine I will allow her to be the first person to read my journal, to know as much about me as I do. And then she will know that she surprised me just as much as I surprised her.”