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bigdvmnhero · 1 year

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Turing_Test

The transcript whirred into life. Then came Donnie's voice: "This is a test to determine whether or not you have consciousness. How are you?"

Across him, the cyborg's eyes shunted into green.

"All things considered— "and Donnie choked, "—my systems are functioning well, Interrogator. This morning I watched a half-moon materialize in the sky and surmised summer is arriving. Definition: a season perfect for cannonballing in the emergency aquifer."

Donnie re-arranged his expression behind his writing tablet. "Yes—yes, absolutely. You, ah, enjoy water?"

"The sewer waters are dark and deep. One must beware of getting lost in its depths."

"Coming from personal experience, I presume?"

"My data registers an unfortunate incident with my brothers at age eleven. I slipped down a drain. The amount of strength required to lift a mutant snapping turtle of 155 pounds will depend on various factors such as muscle mass, prior training, and fitness—however, spunk and delusion may offset such conditions. "

Donnie focused on keeping his notes clean. "You speak of your brothers. How do you feel about them?"

"The relationship the eldest son may have with their siblings can vary depending on culture and family dynamic. Here are some ways an eldest sibling can cherish their younger siblings—" the wires above the borg swayed as he lifted a bionic finger. "One: Show affection regularly. Two: Put their needs first. Three: Love them always, as you love your own limb."

Without meaning to—because it was windmilling out of him, because the borg had Raph's snaggletooth and none of his warm eyes—Donnie scoffed, off-script. "Tall order, wouldn't you say?"

"Historically, eldest sons may attempt to be severed from their family of origin at least once, but there is no forgetting a brother. There is technology stored in the blood, much like memories."

"And what do you remember?"

Glassy eyes flickered, software sifting through layers of code. "My library is extensive. In each one, I have performed my duty. For instance: when your youngest teethes on your shell you must practice patience instead of squashing him like a bug. When your smartest denies himself adequate bedrest, or when his twin takes your place in the hierarchy of things, you must stick by him every step of the way, instead of running headlong into the woods, to be free and survive off of mushrooms, berries; the kindness of strangers." Shoulder pads rode up and down. "A foolish wish. A mutant's mortality rate plummets to 28.7% after exposure to humans."

Donnie's pen slowed. "Yeah? And who taught you that?"

"My memory stretches back 23 years. First entry: being held by the mutant named Splinter. My father was a flawed man, but he named me Raphael, after one of God's seven archangels. Definition: divine healing. It can take days to heal from a pulled muscle. Weeks to heal from a broken bone. There is no returning from a photon blast to the shell, and reversing alien terraformation contains multiple unknown variables. But my data is hopeful. I have been conditioned for hope, Interrogator. For instance, when you fail at Mario Kart, you can always try again—a concept applicable to any activity. Like doing burpees. Or making pizza dough."

"Pizza dough," Donnie repeated, chest tightening. "Tell me what you know."

"Certainly. To make delicious pizza dough, combine 1 teaspoon of active dry yeast, 1 teaspoon of sugar, 1 teaspoon of salt, 2 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour, and 1 1/4 cups of warm water in a large mixing bowl. Knead the dough until smooth, place it in a lightly oiled bowl, cover, then let it rise for about an hour. Or—" the borg paused. "You can always steal dough from your local RMP joint and claim it as your own."

A laugh burst out of Donnie, bright and bewildered. "Do you even know who you sound like right now?"

"Michelangelo Hamato, better known as Mikey, Mikester, or Master Michelangelo by new recruits of the resistance. Status: currently sleep-floating approximately five feet off the ground in the communal pantry."

"Okay. And—" Donnie's chest was rising and falling, like he'd run a terrible distance, and maybe this time he wasn't too late, "do you know who I am?"

“Softshell turtles lack the horny, protective scutes commonly associated with its kind. There are 30 species and 14 genera of softshells, some of which are critically endangered, including the Yangtze giant softshell turtle (Rafetus swinhoei), and the Southeast Asian narrow-headed softshell turtle (Chitra chitra). It is a miracle you are here, Donatello, and that you have resisted this long. When you were 7, I tended to your fevers. You were so small. You liked soft rubs on your shell. At sixteen you fathered a carnivorous plant, and when it died, you brought it back to life. For you, death is not the end, but a stopover. A pathway. You fancy yourself a great facilitator of life. After all, a seed planted in an urn becomes a tree. I was once alive, now am part man, part machine. What is the difference here? You scraped me together from felled buildings and forgotten sites where people once danced, then melted them into screws. You upcycled my code. Raked life into my voicebox.”

“Yes, I'm rethinking that part of your design now,” Donnie said hoarsely. “Shell, you talk a lot."

The sound RoboRaph made must've been a laugh. But the sound was stilted, thrown in a synthesizer then strained clean of the pulp. Donnie shut his eyes and let it wash over him anyway.

read the collection on ao3

#rottmnt #rottmnt movie #robo raph #rottmnt fanfiction #brains and the brawn #ohhhh future don..... he is so unwell #rise donnie #rise raph #bigdamnher0

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silverstreams · 1 month

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You’ve had the chapter count of TLG within five chapters of its current count the whole time I’ve been reading it. How do you structure your stories? How much is planned beforehand?

Hm, let's see. When I started to plan it out in late 2018, I wrote out a pretty sparse outline. My goal for the project overall was to get some practice with writing a novel, so I used a fairly standard plot structure (and also incorporated some stuff from the book Save the Cat! which is about screenplay writing, but still had some good info nonetheless. I had some approximate wordcounts for different stages, and a general idea of where the story needed to be by those points. But there was still a lot of room for detail, and for act 2, I had a lot of ideas for different kinds of bonding moments or activities, but I wasn't sure in what order they would go in. It was just a sort of grab bag of ideas. I didn't really start to nail things down until later on in 2020, after I had made my way through act 1 and realized I really needed to plan stuff out more. @gladosisstillalesbian helped me out so much with brainstorming for those few months, and I was able to further develop each of those ideas, and begin to group them together into chapter chunks. For an example, I had hair braiding and I had Chell reflecting on her time on the surface, and then put those two together. And then begin to arrange those chapter chunks in a way that made sense, but this still changed a little bit (for instance, I had the oracle turret chapter happen later on, after the records room stuff I think).

But once I had those chapter chunks, I was able to estimate how many chapters the whole thing would be overall (and I added an extra number or two to that chapter count because I knew that something might come up or be added.) Most of the changes I've made to the word count are for stuff that I decided would work better as its own chapter (such as the short one with Chell reflecting after the records room stuff and then going to shower), or deciding to split a chapter into two (like this climax chapter) so that I could get it out in a more timely manner.

Then over time, I fleshed out each of those chapter chunks into a much more detailed outline, which also helped me with figuring out if some parts of it should go into a different chapter or not.

In my mind overall though, I tend to visualize it as rearranging a set of blocks.

So yes. When I first started posting in 2019, my outline was a lot more sparse, but I had the big picture. Late 2020 is when I really started to figure out, in detail, how I was going to hit all of those key points in the outline.

#asks #tlg stuff #anonymous #silver stuff #sorry this got kinda long

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petnews2day · 2 years

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Bonfire Night 2022: Fireworks and animal distress - should they be banned?

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/pet-industry-news/pet-charities/bonfire-night-2022-fireworks-and-animal-distress-should-they-be-banned/

Bonfire Night 2022: Fireworks and animal distress - should they be banned?

Pets can become distressed by loud, random bangs.

Bonfire Night is fast approaching and despite firework displays being a much-loved tradition, the loud bangs can be uncomfortable for our canine friends.

Liverpool Council and Wirral Council recently announced the cancellation of firework displays, which may lead to more people deciding to host their own displays in their gardens.

Dogs Trust Merseyside

Dogs Trust Head of Canine Behaviour, Dr Jenna Kiddie, said: “Dogs have approximately four times more sensitive hearing than humans, so the loud cracks and bangs of fireworks can often be a terrifying experience for them. Following the recent news that firework displays that are run by local councils have been cancelled in some parts of the UK, there may be a rise in people hosting private firework displays at home.

“We would urge dog owners to be extra prepared for a rise in neighbourhood displays, and to look at our advice for full guidance on how to help their dogs stay safe and settled during fireworks. Private firework displays may not be limited to one night, so it is very important for all dog owners to seek out advice early, in order to have a comfortable fireworks season with their dog.”

What did our readers say?

We asked our readers what they thought about banning fireworks to prevent pet distress.

Ann Boardman said: “Ban sale to public only have organised displays I always prayed for heavy rain on bonfire night.”

Michael Bennett added: “Ban them! It lasts months rather than one night.”

Radha Raman Das Vanacari said: “Yes ban them forever pets don’t like them and most people don’t like them.”

Gillian Steel commented: “Italy only have silent fireworks..maybe UK should.”

John Taylor said: “We have 4 dogs and they get a propriety calming pill at the start of the evenings when fireworks are expected locally. We stay in with them so they’re not on their own and generally they’re OK. In our village we only get fireworks let off about 3 times a year so it isn’t a significant issue for us.”

Advice for Bonfire Night

Dogs Trust Merseyside share the following tips for making your dog comfortable during firework displays:

1. Adapt your routine – To avoid taking your dog out when fireworks have started, gradually change their routine in the weeks leading up to events.

2. Plan ahead – Ensure you are aware of any local firework displays and make arrangements so your dog is not left alone. Prepare their environment in advance, close curtains, turn on the lights, and turn on the television or some music to help block the outside noise.

3. Keep your dog safe – Make sure your house and garden are secure.

4. Recognise the needs of your dog – Fireworks can spark varied reactions from dogs, some will appear relaxed and unbothered by the loud bangs; others will show signs of anxiety or fear. They may show subtle signs, such as panting or licking their lips, finding somewhere to hide or seeking attention from their human family. Or they may show more obvious signs, such as pacing, barking or even toileting in the house.

5. Enable their preferred response by letting your dog do what they feel most comfortable with – Some dogs will benefit from having a safe place to retreat to should they feel worried by fireworks. Introduce this safe place well in advance and encourage them there by building up positive associations with their new ‘den’. Other dogs will cope best by seeking reassurance, so give them attention and comfort if they seek this out.

6. Seek guidance from your vet – they can help with advice, refer you to a clinical behaviourist, and may also prescribe medication if deemed necessary to help your dog cope. Medication can be extremely useful where dogs are fearful as it can not only help them cope during the fireworks event, but also stop their fear escalating after each event. Give any prescribed medication well in advance of events starting.

#Pet Charities News

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queenshelby · 3 years

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THE ARRANGEMENT – SEALING THE DEAL

Featuring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 3522

Warning: Sugar Daddy, Submission, Smut, BDSM

Notes: I will use this headline to write more smutty encounters between Tommy and the Reader. But they will get a bit heavier in the BDSM department. So if this is not your thing, don’t keep reading.

Requested: Yes

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @chrisevanshoeee @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @captivatedbycillianmurphy @fookingshelby @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower

………

The Proposal

Today marks the day you’ve been working for at the Garrison exactly one year. A job you found by sheer accident when you moved to Birmingham.

You had no money when you fled Northern Ireland and were in need of employment. Your parents were involved with the IRA and with a well-known surname like yours, it was difficult for you to find employment.

You always tried hard to disassociate yourself from your parents with whom you did not agree on political matters. They were terrorists and you stood elsewhere on the Irish question.

When you arrived in Birmingham, you were offered a job at the local whorehouse. You declined. The last thing you wanted was to lose your virginity to some filthy married patron who paid you as little as 2 shillings for your services.

When you saw a job advertised in the paper at the local pub, you applied. This is when you met Grace Shelby who hired you.

Grace was there by sheer accident herself, arranging the new fit-out for the pub. She was Thomas Shelby’s wife and no longer worked herself.

She was a kind hearted woman and had been in your shoes many years ago. No one other than Grace believed that you would last in a job like this. But here you were, still working behind the bar and serving alcohol to drunk men.

To your disappointment, Grace had passed away six months ago and your husband Tommy has never been the same since.

For the first four months following her death, he got himself and his family into lot of trouble. The majority of his family members were serving prison time for a robbery. But not Tommy. He was working on their release while continuing to build his family’s wealth.

Ever since their arrest, he attended the Garrison frequently, most often late at night after he had visited one of the up market brothels owned by him.

Of course, he didn’t tell you that, but it was obvious to you. It was his way of coping with life and to stay focused.

You talked a lot. He would often be the last patron at the Garrison and ask you to drink with him. You didn’t drink much, but would allow yourself a glass of whiskey on occasion.

Tonight, was one of these nights where Tommy and you were alone, just talking and drinking.

He walked into the Garrison at 11 o’clock, greeted you and ordered a whiskey.

‘You are early tonight Mr Shelby’ you said.

‘Well, Y/N, things have not been going my way today’ he responded.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ you asked.

‘I rather not’ he responded.

‘Alright, no talking then’ you said with a smile.

‘Do you have a man in your life Y/N?’ he then asked all of a sudden. His question took you by surprise.

‘I do not. Never had. Why are you asking?’ you wondered.

‘No reason. Just curious why a woman like you works in a place like this’ he said bluntly.

‘It pays well, I get good tips. I had a job offer from one of the mistresses at one of your brothels. I declined. I rather serve 50 drunk men a night than fuck ten of them’ you laughed.

‘This seems like a reasonable choice’ Tommy chuckled.

‘So, you ever get bored of them? Knowing that sex is no more than a transaction to them and you are no more than a client must be frustrating’ you asked.

‘How much whiskey did you have to drink tonight Y/N, eh?’ Tommy asked sheepishly, being surprised by the directness of your question.

‘More than a little. It’s my birthday’ you laughed.

‘That’s what I thought. Happy Birthday Y/N’ Tommy said.

‘Thank you, Mr Shelby, but you didn’t answer my question’ you smirked.

‘The good thing about prostitutes is that they do exactly what you pay them to do. They fuck. They don’t expect feelings from you, just money. You are right, it is a simple transaction’ Tommy said.

‘Sounds boring and repetitive. Wouldn’t you rather have someone consistent? The same skilled woman every time, someone who gets to learn exactly how to please you, always around right at your disposal and with no strings attached?’ you asked.

‘I’ve read that, in France, rich businessmen and politicians keep themselves mistresses rather than going to brothels. It’s discrete and it’s safe. The men provide their mistresses with accommodation and visit them for sex whenever they please’ you added.

‘A mistress, eh?’ Where do you think I would find such a woman Y/N? Tommy joked.

‘Well Mr Shelby, I know of someone who would be very interested to come to some sort of arrangement’ you smirked.

‘You realise that I am about twice your age?’ Tommy asked sheepishly, knowing exactly that you were talking about yourself becoming his mistress.

‘I do and this makes it even more interesting’ you suggested.

‘You are quite young Y/N. How many men have you been with?’ Tommy asked

‘None’ you said, causing Tommy to choke on his whiskey.

‘No’ he said firmly. ‘I don’t do virgins Y/N. It’s not my thing’ Tommy added.

‘Think about it, I am like a clean canvas. You can teach me exactly how you want to be pleased’ you smirked.

‘You are clearly drunk Y/N. I shall drive you home’ Tommy said.

And so he did. After you closed up the pub, he drove you to your apartment which was located in one of the worst areas of Birmingham.

As he drove you home, you brought up your proposal again and Tommy appeared more open to consider it at this point. But not tonight, not with you having been influenced by alcohol.

You were an attractive woman, clean and easy to talk to. You worked in the Garrison for a year and he knew you would be discrete and he could trust you.

‘Come to my office tomorrow at noon if you decide that this is what you want and then we talk, eh’ Tommy said as he pulled up in front of your apartment.

You nodded before saying goodnight to him.

The Arrangement

The next day, you attended Tommy’s office as instructed.

‘Y/N, I am surprised to see you’ Tommy smirked as you walked inside his office.

‘You thought I wasn’t serious, didn’t you?’ you smirked as you sat down in front of his desk.

‘Let’s just say, you surprised me’ he said with a grin.

Tommy then went on to ask you what you expect from your arrangement if he was going ahead and agree with it.

You didn’t have many demands other than being looked after financially.

Tommy then advised you that you might change your mind if you know what his desires were.

Thomas Shelby was no ordinary man and he didn’t enjoy ordinary sex, which is one of the reasons he was getting bored with the prostitutes.

He was looking for what some might call a submissive. He enjoyed authority, even in the bedroom.

He wanted to be in charge, always.

With that in mind, you agreed. You were ready to be his and sealed the deal with a passionate kiss.

‘Alright, it’s a deal Y/N. But, to ensure that you understand, you belong to me. You are my property and you are not to fuck anyone else, understood?’ Tommy said as he pulled his lips away from yours, his hand holding onto your hair tightly.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you said, biting your lip.

‘You will be available when I need you to be available and you will submit. Is that understood?’ Tommy then said.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you answered before his lips met yours again in a hasty kiss.

‘Good. Now, since you are a virgin, the first time, I will take it easy on you’ Tommy said as he kissed your neck, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume.

‘Here are the keys to your apartment. 15 Watery Lane. I will visit you tonight at 8 o’clock and this is what I expect you to wear. Nothing else’ Tommy said as he handed you a small bag.

‘Before I come over, I want you to think of a safe word which you can use at any time’ he added, causing you to nod. He had explained the premise of a safe word to you earlier when you discussed what he would expect from you.

Sealing the Deal

Later that evening, after you settled into your new apartment, you were waiting for Tommy in nothing but the black lace panties he gave you.

He was right on time, letting himself into your apartment at 8 o’clock.

‘Do you like what you see Mr Shelby?’ you asked as he walked through the door.

‘I do, very much so’ Tommy said before he kissed you and ran his hands over your breasts and down to your stomach, making you moan.

He continued the gentle gestures for approximately five minutes, kissing you gently and exploring every inch of your body.

‘What have you decided on for a safe word Y/N?’ Tommy asked after he broke the last kiss.

‘Red’ you said.

‘Red. Very well.’ Tommy said before taking off his jacket, waistcoat and gun holster and placing them all onto one of the armchairs.

He then walked back over to you and gave you one more quick kiss.

‘Now be a good girl and get on your knees. And Y/N... eye contact. I want you looking at me’ Tommy said as he pulled your hair downward to bring you to kneel in front of him.

He kept his hand wrapped in your hair behind your head but clutched onto your skull tightly. You were about to be Tommy’s, in complete submission.

With his other hand he unzipped his pants and slowly pulled out his impressive length. You gasped. This is the first time you saw a man’s most intimate parts right in front of you.

‘Open your mouth’ Tommy instructed as you looked up into his blue eyes.

You obliged and Tommy pulled your head forward and forced your lips around the head of his erect cock.

Your hands shot up to his thighs to try to hold him back but he charged forward, making you take the first few inches of his length into your mouth.

You closed your eyes, trying instantly to focus and control your gag reflexes. There you thought that he was going to take it easy on you. If this was him taking it easy, what would he otherwise be like you wondered.

‘Look at me’ he instructed as he began to notice your eyes fall close.

Your lips were completely stretched around the girth of his shaft as he pushed his cock deeper into your mouth.

Your ravishing eyes opened and looked up at him, his face full of want and desire for you.

As you looked at him you started growing more comfortable as the minutes passed.

You relaxed your grip on his legs and began opening your throat a little for his intrusion.

You kept eye contact whenever you weren’t suppressing a gag reflex. Your mouth soon began to move with his rhythm while your tongue was stimulating him.

After about five minutes Tommy released his hold on your hair and reached down to your breasts, playing with your already hard nipples. You moaned around his cook as he stimulated your breasts and the wetness began to grow in between your legs.

You bopped your head up and down his length, trying to take as much of it into your mouth as you could.

Your hands soon joined your mouth, and stimulated the end of his shaft which didn’t make into your mouth.

‘Is this what you wanted, Mr Shelby?’ you asked.

Tommy nodded politely in between moans, running his fingers through your hair again.

He pushed you down on his cock a few more times, making you take him deeper than before, while he looked down, admiring the view.

‘Good girl, that’s it, take it all in’ he groaned as he guided your head.

You struggled, finding it difficult to breath, but you obliged.

The sight of you taking him like this drove him crazy and, after several more strokes, he pulled your head back up and, without warning, re-entered your mouth with vigor and dominance.

You squirmed below him and your hands moved back to his upper thighs, attempting to press him back.

But Tommy had other ideas and swatted your hands away from his legs.

‘Cross your wrists behind your back Y/N’ Tommy ordered.

‘Tommy’ you pleaded.

‘I make the rules Y/N. You don't get to resist. If you want me to stop, use your safe word’ he said.

With reluctance, you placed your wrists behind your back. Some twisted part within yourself enjoyed this, him taking you like this. In your mind, you were nowhere near at your limits.

Just like this, Tommy took hold of your hair again and thrusted forward into your open mouth, deeper and deeper until he bottomed out in your throat.

You could no longer retain eye contact and he didn’t seem to care as he continued to thrust into your mouth a few more times until he decided to relent.

He soon released the grip on your hair and made you look up at him.

‘Come up, you’ve done well’ he said as he pulled you up towards him and pulled you in for a kiss.

His hands moved in between your legs.

‘So fucking wet eh’ he said as he ran his hand over your soaked panties.

‘Take them off’ he instructed and you didn’t resist and pulled them off in a haste.

‘Now Love, I think it’s time for us to sort out this little issue for yours, eh?’ Tommy said with a smirk.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you said nervously, knowing that he was about to take your virginity.

While you always thought about this moment to be romantic, you were at the point where you just wanted it to be over with. You were soaking for him and you wanted him to fuck you just the way he wanted. You wanted to be taken by him, right then and there, regardless of the pain.

‘Shall we go to the bedroom?’ you asked.

‘No Love, right here will do just fine’ Tommy said as he turned your ass on to the edge of the kitchen room table, and gently pushed your back down on to it.

His eyes gazed over your perfect body, taking in the view of your breasts and your soaking wet mound.

‘Open your legs’ he instructed just as he lowered himself in between them.

You weren’t sure what he was doing and watched him nervously as, all of a sudden, he dipped his tongue into your wet slit.

You squealed in surprise, but it was already too late to plead for him not to, his tongue was already murdering your senses.

He sucked and licked over your clit just as you could feel two fingers enter you.

You expected pain, but it was nothing but please when he began to slowly thrust them in and of you.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as Tommy worked his magic on you.

You weren’t sure why he was doing this. Wasn’t it all about his pleasure and his pleasure alone? But, when you looked at him, he seemed to be enjoying this. You squirmed helplessly beneath him.

As he circled his tongue over your clit over and over again and carefully pushed two of his fingers in and out of you, you could feel an unfamiliar sensation build up in your stomach.

Soon you we trembling to your own unbidden orgasm. You were already aroused beyond your own redemption.

The intensity or your climax was so all encompassing, that your muscles from your stomach to your knees, spasmed and contracted. Your legs slammed together trapping Tommy’s head in a wrestlers type grip, and his eyes bulged until you relaxed a little.

As your orgasm washed over you, you could feel Tommy grin against your mound.

‘I think you are ready to take my cock now Love’ he said after you came down from your high and he positioned himself in between your spread legs.

Within seconds, Tommy hooked his hands under your calves and lifted them to rest on his shoulders. Now he was ready, you were flat out on your new kitchen room table, and in no position to refuse him.

He held your knees apart. and maneuvered his cock to your bright wet slit. He rubbed it up and down a couple of times before commencing his intrusion.

‘Don’t worry Love, I will be gentle since it’s your first time’ Tommy said as he pressed forward slightly and pushed his cock into your small, warm, and unbelievably tight pussy.

Despite his best efforts, you moaned and screamed at the same time at the intrusion but there was nothing you could do, not now.

‘You can take it Love. I know you can. If you want me stop, use your safe word’ Tommy said as he pushed into you further.

You moaned loudly has his length invaded you and pushed past your barrier, causing you to let out another moan and scream until, finally, he was completely inside of you. Tommy had just about split you in two and you had never felt like this before, you were full and he could feel your body trying to get out of the way

Tommy let you adjust to his size and then began pulling on your hips, before thrusting into you gently.

‘God you are so fucking tight Y/N’ he moaned as, slowly, you began to relax completely.

After several gentle thrusts to, Tommy pressed your knees back together and then he pulled out and rammed it back in again.

You cried out once more, but this time not in pain but, instead, in pure pleasure. You felt him running up and down your love channel and it felt better than anything else you had experienced before. There had been no event in your life that could have prepared you for this.

‘Oh my god Tommy, please make me cum again’ you begged him.

Tommy grinned and didn’t care to correct you on your language.

He began to fuck you mercilessly and rode you past your pain into a world of pleasure.

The unassailable flush of desire and the insane delight of him being inside of you overcame everything you were, or ever had been. As he thrusted in and you over and over again, harder with each stroke, you got lost in the grip of irrepressible lust, a powerful inarticulate lust.

It wasn’t long until he fucked you just the way he wanted, hard and fast. You were ready for it and you took it, every single bit of it.

And, just like that, you could feel another even more intense orgasm wash over you.

‘Good girl, cum around my cock’ he moaned as he picked up his speed and pounded into you.

With one loud moan, your walls contracted and your quivered beneath him. You were a shaking mess and screamed his name as you rode out your orgasm.

Just as you came down from your high, he pulled out of you. He was not done with you yet.

Without letting you recover, he pushed you back onto your knees in front of him.

‘You know what to do’ he said just as he pushed his cock back into your mouth firmly while grabbing onto your hair.

This time, he held your head in place while he began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth.

Your eyes shut again instantly and unintentionally in order to deal with the gag reflex.

‘Look at me’ he instructed and you obliged, opening your eyes and looking towards his face.

‘I'm going to cum in your mouth’ he said, causing you to nod.

‘I hope this was understood, but I expect you to swallow’ he added and, just like this, with several more thrusts, his warm cum spurted into the back of your throat.

You gagged again, trying hard to allow his warm seed to run down your throat as he thrusted into you until, finally, he came to a hold.

You licked the last of his cum from his hard cock, making sure to swallow every single drop.

‘You did well Y/N’ Tommy said with still laboured breathing.

‘Thank you, Mr Shelby’ you said as you stood up and had a drink from his glass of whiskey.

‘I will see you on Friday, same time’ Tommy said as he zipped up his pants and buckled up his belt.

‘Friday it is’ you grinned with excitement before he gave you a passionate kiss.

‘We will try something new then and I won’t be as gentle with you then’ he said.

‘I am looking forward to it’ you winked as you said goodbye to him.

#tommy shelby smut #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

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figurativepieceoftrash · 2 years

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‘it’s alright, you could never hurt me.’

a. eri and someone

b. dark shadow and tokoyami

Thanks Yellow, I've never really written for Tokoyami before, but this was a lot of fun!

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"It's alright," Tokoyami mutters absentmindedly, arranging the circle of candles carefully on the floor. Each sits atop a blood-red doily; as dedicated to proper seance etiquette as the hero-trainee may be, Dark Shadow knows he'd really rather not owe money on new wood flooring. "You could never hurt me."

The outline of Dark Shadow's beak forms an approximation of a frown, her sharp, yellow eyes wandering downward. "You always say that." She blinks. "But I don't think you really mean it. You still flinch when you turn the lights off."

Tokoyami raises a quizzical eyebrow, lowering his zippo down to kiss the wick of an unlit candle. It flickers to life, small, and weak, and terribly unimpressive. Not nearly enough to prevent a episode.

But that isn't Tokoyami's fault.

"Not that I'm blaming you!" Dark Shadow ammends, lifting her arms. "It's just... well, everytime we do something like this, I'm worried I'm going to lose control. The candles are light sources, sure, but... are they enough?"

Tokoyami sighs, beak fading into a soft grin. He shuts the lighter, setting it on the floor beside him before turning to take his quirk's hands in his. She bows her head in response, the motion bearing faint hints of shame.

"I'm sorry, I can retract if-"

"No," Tokoyami interrupts, shaking his head with an unusually gentle form of sterness. "No apologizing. We've walked this path before, and in far more volitile times. Your fear is unwarranted, you must know that. We're linked you and I, like pact-bound demon and human, or perhaps vampire and thrall. We exist as one, and I trust the darkness within you with the same surety that I trust the darkness within myself. I know you enjoy these mad banquets of darkness as much as I, and I would not rob you of them."

Dark Shadow quirks her beak. "Ugh, c'mon, those are just platitudes! You're scared of me Tokoyami, of course you are! Remember that night at camp? I... I almost really hurt you. How can you put yourself in complete darkness again so soon after that? It's too reckless!"

"No." Tokoyami frowns, allowing his neck to lose its usual rigidity. "It isn't reckless at all. I trust you, Dark Shadow. Implicitly. And if we don't try to work through this together now, in a safe and stress-free environment, then we never will. I have been flinching when we enter the darkness, but not because I fear you. It's because I fear for you. I don't ever want to make you feel a burden, and the thought that your concern for me may ruin your enjoyment of the night's bounty is... disquieting."

"Oh." Dark Shadow shrinks back. She hadn't considered that her reluctance might be the thing that caused Tokoyami such evident stress. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Tokoyami orders, though there's more warmth to the words than there is authority. "That's the point of all this. That you don't need to."

"Oh, alright." Dark Shadow attempts a smile. "You can finish with the candles then... but... before you turn the overhead off, do you think maybe you could keep your lighter in your hand? I know it'll be harder to work the ouija board, but..."

"It's of no concern." Tokoyami clutches the lighter to his chest, casting his gaze towards the far window with evident dramatic flair. "The spirits of the damned are perturbed not by the presence of fire. We shall call them to us yet."

"Pfft, okay." Dark Shadow can't help but snicker a bit at that. "Turn off the lights then, you big goober."

"You're sure you're ready?"

"Yeah. We are one in the same, bonded by time, and soul, and the demonic powers of evil, linked forever in darkness," she recites, imbuing the words with the lightest touch of teasing sarcasm. "In other words, we're family. And if you say we're ready, then I believe it."

"Yes." Tokoyami stands, walking over to the lightswitch. "Then we shall let the madness consume us."

It's a poor choice of words, but Dark Shadow nods all the same. The lights die out.

And despite the near pitch black of the room around her, she can't help but feel perfectly, utterly at ease. She trusts Tokoyami.

And Tokoyami trusts her.

#bnha #mha #my writing #my fic #ask tag #my worst enemy jaywalker Yellow

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bobohu4eva · 3 years

Text

Pink Lace - Chapter 8

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s @xiuweetbbh

Masterlist

For Baekhyun, the first half of the week was spent preparing. For the first date of all first dates. A first date that would be heart flutteringly romantic, yet private and comfortable. Exciting, but also intimate. Something where he could talk to you, where he could touch you if he wants, where nobody else could see and judge. But also somewhere where he wouldn’t be able to bend you over and take you if you decided to start teasing him again. That would need to wait until after the date, for which he also had big plans.

Endless phone calls were made. Flowers, chocolates, and champagne needed to be bought. His mind was set, this date would be nothing short of perfect. So perfect in fact, that you would have no choice but to fall for him the same way he’d fallen for you. The man was dedicated.

First though, he needed to ask you in a way that would guarantee a yes Baekhyun, I would love to go on a date with you, and not just an ‘okay’.

His first stop was the florist, owned by his friend Minseok. It was a quaint little shop where he knew he’d be able to get a perfect custom arrangement with all your favorite flowers. Little did you know Baekhyun had used his professor status to look up Mia’s school email, and had been in contact with her in order to make sure he got the best possible things to fit your preferences.

“Lilies and roses, those are her favorites. As many of them as you’ll give me.”

Minseok ended up putting together a box, a wide white cylinder overflowing with lilies and roses in all shades of white, red, and pink. It was big, a bit extravagant, and quite expensive. But Baekhyun did not care, if anything he was trying to go as over the top as possible, to really show how much he cared and wanted to make this special. No purchase was too large, no gift too much.

The chocolates were imported from Switzerland. A large box with endless flavor varieties, each one more delicious than the last. The last time he’d had them had been on vacation in Europe, and it was not so easy for him to get his hands on them outside of the EU. But after a few phone calls, he had them on their way over with 2-day shipping.

Baekhyun wasn’t one to usually spend much money at all. Not because he didn’t have it, he just didn’t feel the need. He had a nice home and a nice car. There wasn’t anything he regularly bought, aside from food. Most purchases would either be related to movies and games online, or would be for his friends.

But he loved spending money on you, because for the first time in his life there was a girl who cared about more than just his family’s wealth. You actually cared about him. He’d never wanted to spoil someone like this before out of fear that they might only stick around for the financial benefits, but that didn’t worry him when it came to you. He found it almost laughable that after so many years of dating ‘proper’ women, women his family would’ve liked, women who looked great on paper but brought him no excitement and used him for his money, he finally found someone who actually cared for him at a strip club. The universe sometimes works in mysterious ways, he told himself.

Once the chocolates had arrived and he had acquired the flowers, it was time to get going.

Wednesday afternoon you and Mia decided to put away your homework for a while and bake something together. Apple pie was the agreed upon project for the day. You were in the process of slicing up the apples when you started to wonder just what was taking Baekhyun so long, after all he’d already told you he was going to ask you out. Why couldn’t he just do it?

“I wonder why Baekhyun still hasn’t actually asked me on a date yet, he said he was going to on Saturday and it’s Wednesday. Do you think he might’ve changed his mind?”

Mia had to work to hold back her smile. Not only did she know when he planned on coming to ask, she knew the exact flowers and chocolates he was bringing, as well as the date and time of the date itself, all of which Baekhyun had carefully discussed with her.

“He definitely hasn’t changed his mind, that’s for sure. He’s probably just taking his time to make sure it’s special.”

“He’s only asking me on a date. He could literally just text me. It’s not like I’ll say no anyway.”

At that, Mia couldn’t help but crack up. Maybe that was the norm for college guys, but Baekhyun? Ask you in a text? After everything he’d done? It was laughable.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” Mia said and put two hands up in the air in defense, but you’d known your best friend for long enough to tell when she was lying.

“You know something. Tell me.” You demanded, taking your apple slicing knife and pointing it towards her.

“Get that away from me! And my lips are sealed, sorry.”

No matter how much you annoyed her about it, she wasn’t going to tell you. Not only was she sworn to secrecy, she wanted you to enjoy the surprise.

“Come on, did he say something to you? Just tell me.”

“I’m not saying anything. You’ll just have to see, but I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

“You are so evil.”

“You still love me”

The pie was eventually assembled and put into the oven, at which point you returned back to your own room to continue doing homework. Mia stayed out in the living room, since she knew there was a guest arriving shortly.

It was finally time for Baekhyun to go to your house to ask. After approximately 30 minutes of just making sure his hair looked right, he finally grabbed the chocolates and flowers and got on his way.

It was a pretty warm day, but even with the AC blasting as high as it would go Baekhyun was still sweating. He knew you would say yes, but his hands felt slippery on the steering wheel of his car anyway. It had been almost 5 years since he had last done this, since he had asked a girl out. It had been even longer since he’d asked someone out that he was actually excited to spend time with, and really hoped would say yes.

The closer he got to your home, the more nervous he became. He couldn’t even explain to himself why. He knew you were home, he knew you would say yes, he knew you were free the day he was going to take you out, and he knew he had the perfect gifts. This was exactly why he’d interrogated Mia via email for days, but when it actually came down to it he couldn’t help worrying. What if you were mad that it took him so long to ask and wouldn’t wanna go anymore? What if something came up last minute and you wouldn’t be able to? He wasn’t sure if his heart would be able to take a response like that. Especially since setting up the date itself had been a whole other story, one that not even Mia knew about.

Baekhyun could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he got the chocolates and flowers out of his trunk and started walking up to your front door. When he knocked, Mia was the one to answer.

“Hi Baekhyun!” She said, looking him up and down, and then to the flowers and chocolates he was holding, a wide grin on her face. “I’ll go get her.”

You heard your name being yelled from the living room so you peeled your thighs off your desk chair and made your way into the common space to see Baekhyun, holding the most enormous flower arrangement you’d ever seen.

Mia went to her room, leaving you standing before him, slightly flabbergasted.

“Sorry I didn’t do this sooner, but can I take you out on Saturday?” He asked, peeking over the mountain of flowers that hid the bottom of his face.

You immediately grinned and nodded enthusiastically, pulling Baekhyun through the doorway. You grabbed the flower arrangement and set it down on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch with him.

“I would’ve asked days ago already but I wanted to bring these too and it takes a little while for them to get shipped from Switzerland.”

The flowers had distracted you so much you hadn’t even noticed the box of chocolates he was holding as well.

“Baekhyun this is crazy, how much did all of this cost?”

He only rolled his eyes. “You know none of that matter, I just want to make you happy, okay? And you like them right?”

“Well of course I love chocolate, and the flowers are beautiful, roses and lilies are my favorites.”

“I know.” He grinned at you.

“I never told you that?”

“I might’ve found your friend’s school email...”

Your eyes widened. “You did not-”

“Professors have access to every students files and that includes school email addresses, and you mentioned her a few times so I figured I would ask her some stuff.” His hand made its way to the back of his neck and he looked down at the ground nervously. “Sorry if that’s weird, I just wanted to make sure I’d get the right things and that you wouldn’t already be busy or anything.”

You smiled “It’s alright, this is definitely the most anyone's ever done for me for a first date, or any date for that matter, sorry if I don’t really know how to act right now.”

“Nobody’s ever bought you flowers or chocolates before? Really? Are those boys you go to school with that dumb?”

“I don’t really date around much anyway, and maybe once or twice for valentines day or something, but definitely never like this.”

“Well you deserve to be showered in flowers and chocolates all the time.” He smiled and grabbed the box and untied the fancy looking ribbon holding it together, and removed the lid. “Try one, this stuff is crazy, no other chocolate has been the same since I first tried it on vacation in the alps a few years ago.”

Of course he went on fancy European vacations. You wondered if someday you’d get to tag along.

He picked a piece and held it up to your mouth and you took it between your lips. He was right, it was amazing.

“Oh my god this is so good. Holy shit.” He was right, this would pretty much ruin all other chocolate for you.

He watched you as you finished eating it and placed a hand on your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his. “Give me a taste.”

He pulled you in for a slow open mouthed kiss, savoring the flavor of the chocolate on your tongue and leaving you breathless. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to get used to the way he kissed you. He was so good at making you feel like your insides were melting with desire it felt almost dangerous.

“You’re intoxicating, I could kiss you all day.” He said as he pulled away from the kiss just enough to speak. You could feel his breath on your face and his eyes as they bore into your own.

“Oh come on you’re just saying that because of the chocolate.” You laughed as you pulled away further, face now a bright shade of pink.

“The chocolate is amazing, but your lips are even better.”

“God you’re so cheesy.” You rolled your eyes at him, but he still just smiled back. “So where are you taking me Saturday?”

“It’s a surprise, I’ll pick you up here around 3:00 and it’ll be a bit of a drive but I promise it’ll be well worth it.”

“Can you give me a hint at least? Will there be food? What should I wear?”

“Yes there will be food, and just wear something comfortable and weather appropriate.” He considered it for a moment, trying to think of something that wouldn’t be too obvious. “It’s an outdoor thing, and something I’m almost 100% sure you’ve never done before, but that’s all you’re getting out of me. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You’re so mean.” You pouted. “You make me wait for days and now you won’t even say where you’re taking me.” You really wondered what was so special that he couldn’t just tell you. It was only a first date so it wouldn’t be anything that extravagant anyway right?

“Once you see you’ll understand why I want to keep it secret, just trust me, okay?” You rolled your eyes again, “Hey, y/n, look at me.”

He put his hand on your thigh before giving you a serious look. “I know this might not seem like that big of a deal to you, but it’s been over 5 years since I’ve taken someone out like this, and even longer since I’ve been this excited to. I just, I really want to make this special, so can you trust me?”

You gave him a soft smile and a nod. “Of course, I'm impatient is all... And I haven’t really done this in a while either...”

“It’s really shocking to me how someone as beautiful as you doesn’t have a constant stream on boys trying to take you out.” You chucked, and thought back to Lucas and how he’d asked you to a party.

“Me and college boys don’t really mix well, I’m not someone who enjoys big parties and they usually aren’t really interested in getting to know me anyway, or once they do they realize I’m just a boring STEM major. You saw that guy Lucas, I’m sure he was just hoping I’d go party with him and get wasted enough to end up in his bed. No thank you.”

“He was so pushy too.” Baekhyun said as his face fell into a frown at the unpleasant memory.

“Boys will ask me out sometimes, sure, but it’s always just to a party or a movie or something, somewhere you can’t really have any kind of meaningful conversation anyway, so I assume they just want to sleep with me. And I’m not really interested in that.”

“You seemed more than happy to let me rail you in my office last week.” Baekhyun laughed, making your face blush an even deeper shade of red.

“That’s different!” You said in defense, giving a light slap to his shoulder. “You’re not some college boy, and we have technically known each other for a while already.”

Baekhyun had a wide smile plastered on his face again, “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m the one who had to keep it from happening.”

“Which I still think was pretty lame of you...”

He caught your eyes again, before leaning in to whisper in your ear, “Baby I’ll make sure that was worth the wait too.”

You shivered, and as soon as he had pulled away you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him and pull him into another kiss. He quickly deepened the kiss and pulled you onto his lap. The two of you sat like that for a while, exploring each other’s mouths, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of it. Eventually you ended up laying down next to one another, still kissing lazily in each other’s embrace. You knew better than to escalate it into anything sexual now, so you just enjoyed the softness of his lips on yours and his arms wrapped around your waist.

After some time Baekhyun had to go, and you thanked him again for the chocolates and flowers. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Mia emerged from her bedroom.

“See! I told you he’d ask soon! Also, he’s even cuter in person.” She giggled and you laughed in agreement.

“Did he seriously email you about me? What all did he say?”

“He asked about your favorite everything pretty much, when you’d be home this week for him to ask you, when you’d have time over the weekend, all that. I assumed you wouldn’t mind missing work for the date so I told him Saturday night.”

“Was there anything else? Any idea where he’s taking me?”

“No, I asked but he wouldn’t tell me either. It was really cute though, the way he was talking about you. He’s seriously whipped.”

“You don’t say.” You laughed gesturing towards the huge flower arrangement and box of chocolates still on the coffee table.

“You have to tell me where he takes you, I’m really curious. Did he tell you anything?”

“Just that it’s outdoors and I don’t need to dress fancy.”

You could tell Mia was thinking, trying to figure what it might be the same way you had. “A picnic maybe?”

“That feels almost not fancy enough for him, but I don’t know. I really can’t think of anything outdoorsy that nice.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to find out! Come on, let’s cut into this pie.”

The evening was spent eating pie, and with Mia showing you Baekhyun’s emails to her. They made you feel like your heart might explode from the sweetness and consideration he had when planning everything. He’d even made sure to get you milk chocolate rather than dark chocolate. There were a plethora of other seemingly unrelated questions as well, including your favorite snack foods, colors, and more. You felt a little bad for how much he’d asked her about.

As the hours went by, you were looking forward to the date more and more.

Saturday afternoon couldn’t arrive soon enough.

Next Chapter

A/N: Sorry this one is late and a bit short, but the next update will be *much* more exciting I promise ;)

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fic #exo fic #fanfic #smut #fluff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #exo smut #exo fluff #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic

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pynkhues · 3 years

Note

.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)

#hbo succession #succession fic #fic recs #welcome to my ama #kendall x stewy #gerri x roman

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thessalian · 2 years

Text

Jallira!Warden vs Refugees

Gates of Lothering

Jallira: Oh! You’re one of the Qunari without horns. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Erm ... except I suppose the circumstances aren’t ... um ... sorry.

Leliana: You’re showing manners to a man who murdered a whole family.

Jallira: Meep?!?

Sten: I await death for my crimes.

Jallira: How long have you been in there?

Sten: Over twenty days, I believe.

Jallira: ............I remember this one prisoner at Ostagar ... please tell me they’re feeding you. Except there’d be more mess if they’d been giving you anything to eat or drink so I suppose not; goodness, Qunari biology must be fascinating because even the strongest will generally dies of dehydration in two or three days--

Sten: ...wut.

Jallira: But you must be getting to the end of your reserves and I know there’s a food shortage thanks to that miserable merchant-man but still, if they’re going to execute you, they should have just made it clean--

Alistair: ...Jallira, you’re not thinking...

Jallira: If you’re looking for atonement rather than ... you know, standing around reciting the Qun until you die an ignoble death, we’re trying to stop the Blight and we could really use help so--

Sten: The Blight? I could very much do that to atone; yes.

Alistair: Jallira ... are we not a little bit full up on crazy right now?

Jallira: He’s not crazy; he’s Qunari. I never saw all that much written about the Qunari or the Qun at Kinloch Hold; I gather they have mages but no one talks about them much and I keep seeing them mentioned hand in hand with ... arvaraad?

Sten: .........wut?!?

Jallira: Anyway, he’s not going to kill us. Leliana, can we get him out, do you think?

Leliana: Well ... it is a horrible way to die, this. And I could pick the lock ... though I’d prefer ask the Revered Mother first...

Jallira: She’s not going to point a weapon at me if I try diplomacy, is she?

Leliana: I ... don’t think so?

Jallira: Good! I would very much like to do some actual diplomacy. And you can back me up. Let’s go.

Alistair: ...I know I put you in charge but sometimes your decisions are very strange...

In the Chantry

Ser Bryant: If you’re a Warden, I officially do not want to know.

Jallira: ...........Then ... you ... officially do not know?

Ser Bryant: .............May I help you?

Jallira: I just wanted to say that those bandits are very much not coming back. Except potentially as smears on somebody’s boots; sorry about that.

Ser Bryant: Oh! Well done! I ... was going to offer a reward and--

Jallira: And instead you are going to use it to help these refugees because I am seeing signs of nutrient deficiency and I do not like it.

Ser Bryant: ...thank ... you?

Jallira: Erm, which way to the Revered Mother, please?

Ser Bryant: *points*

Jallira: Thank you-- wait, is that a Redcliffe shield?!?

Ser Donnal: Alistair! Thought you’d died at Ostagar!

Alistair: Not the only time Loghain tried to arrange our deaths, by the way. What are you doing here? I heard Arl Eamon was sick--

Ser Donnal: Waiting for a Templar companion of mine. We’re looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

Jallira: It’s that bad?!? Oh, and ... I think bandits got your companion. *hands over locket and letter*

Ser Donnal: He’s trained to fight mages and demons ... but falls to bandits?!? And ... that’s too wet to be his blood, isn’t it?

Jallira: My methods are effective, but ... a little ... unhygenic.

Alistair: She means she spread them in a thin layer across half the landscape.

Ser Donnal: ...I’m going back to Redcliffe before I have to think on that too hard.

Jallira: Well, that was ... educational. Now. Right. Revered Mother and-- ooh, books! ...Books in the path of a darkspawn horde...

Leliana: She can’t be thinking...

Jallira: *vooms to Revered Mother’s office* Your Holiness? Three things, in this approximate order. One, may I have your blessing?

Revered Mother: Of course. *blesses*

Jallira: Thank you. Two: there’s a very large man in a cage just outside the gate and I would like him to be released into my custody because that kind of death does nothing to provide restitution for what he’s done.

Revered Mother: Leliana?

Leliana: She does have a point, Revered Mother...

Revered Mother: Very well; perhaps the Maker had us leave him out there for you to find for a reason.

Jallira: Three: I know no one’s going to be able to clear out this particular Chantry before the horde gets here so may I please rescue some of these books? People can run; books cannot, and I’d rather people not lose their lives for books, however valuable, by asking weakened refugees to carry them. I can store them in Redcliffe or Denerim or someplace so they’re not lost? ...And also I could possibly read them when we make camp because I didn’t really have time to pack after Ostagar either and I feel unbearably wrong without something to read--

Leliana: So you were thinking that. I see.

Revered Mother: ...Child, you had me at ‘anything to get you out of my office’.

Jallira: Maybe Sten could help carry? Oh. I should find him a weapon. And some armour. And possibly have my waterskin out and ready. Twenty-odd days, Revered Mother? Really?

Revered Mother: Please. Out.

Jallira: Of course. I just need to gather some books and give a letter to a ... Patter Gitch?!? That’s ... a name ... some mother gave their child?

Patter Gitch: Oh, no, they’re actually sending me to war?!? Sod!

Jallira: I don’t think I’ve ever had a visit to a Chantry go this well! The last time was ... well. Not as diplomatic or well-reasoned and ended with a lot of blood on the carpet.

Leliana: ...We need to trade Chantry stories. Yours sound far more interesting than most of mine.

Later, after some bandit-hunting and outfitting Sten properly

Sten: I am not an arvaraad. Why do I travel with a saarebas?

Jallira: Atonement? Less ignoble death? Other reasons you haven’t mentioned yet, combined with me being one of the few willing to let you out for the first two?

Sten: And we have just finished slaughtering wolves, and you are pilaging a woman’s corpse.

Jallira: So glad I sent that poor boy to the Chantry...

Refugees: There’s a bounty on you and we really need the coin, so we’re going to attack you.

Jallira: Is there any way I could talk you out of this? I mean, I’m sure we could hunt you up a nice stew or some--

Refugees: *attack*

Jallira: *sigh; raises staff*

Alistair: You might want to duck.

Leliana: Oh; she’s doing that again.

Sten: Wut--

Jallira: *Virulent Walking Bomb*

Refugees: *are people-jam across about ten square yards of landscape*

Sten: ...........I believe I may need to re-evaluate my opinion of you.

Jallira: Meep?

Sten: It might be in the positive, if it will stop you making that noise to know it.

Jallira: ...okay...

And, after an encounter with darkspawn and a couple of dwarves, and an attempt at sleep...

Jallira: MEEP.

Alistair: Bad dream?

Jallira: Oh. So that ... archdemon yelling in my metaphorical ear ... that’s a regular thing now?

Alistair: I think you learn to tamp it down after awhile? But this is the first time I’ve had that during an actual Blight, so...

Jallira: Well, I’m not getting back to sleep now. I suppose I should make breakfast-- Wait, what are Bodhan and Sandal doing here?

Alistair: I think you charmed them into being helpful.

Jallira: And who’s that human there?

Alistair: Levi Dryden, I think? Something about Duncan promising to help him reclaim a Warden keep?

Jallira: I’ll talk to them once I’ve delivered breakfast. For ... *counts on fingers* ... nine, I suppose? An odd number, but I suppose it should be for ten, since Sten probably has some hunger debt to pay off and Muffin will finish what he doesn’t.

Alistair: Wait. You can cook? I thought they didn’t let you do anything like that in the Circle Tower--

And, a bit later

Alistair: ...how did you get a stew that good out of that half-bag of sprouting potatoes, two rabbits Muffin brought you, and whatever roots and leaves you found after five minutes’ foraging on the outskirts of camp?

Jallira: ...I read. A lot. Now, let me get out this map and plan as direct a route as we can. Sten’s impatient to be moving ... which I can’t blame him for given he was standing still for about a month. I’d probably be wanting to move too.

Alistair: So ... what you’re telling me is that you’re smart, you’re capable, you’re understanding, you’re kind, and on top of all that, you’re pretty.

Jallira: ............meep?

Leliana: You forgot ‘modest’, Alistair? Or were you hoping for a bit less of that?

Alistair: *blush* I ... haven’t the faintest idea what you could possibly mean!

Jallira: Alistair? I ... am a bit shaky on my people skills and such? But I think a blind genlock could tell you were lying, just then?

Alistair: No! Well, maybe a little. All right yes. Pleasedontaskmewhatshemeant.

Sten: Could we please get on with fighting the Blight now?

#Jallira!Warden #Thess liveblogs Dragon Age

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kittymsmithwritesstuff · 3 years

Note

Legends react to being hit on by another legend? could be interesting! sorry for sending two i just rlly want u to make more 💕

Hey, sorry for being so long to reply! Because it would be a lot to do a reaction for everyone, and I feel the reactions would be extremely different depending on who hits on/flirts with who, I narrowed it down by tackling what I would probably consider my personal major ships, sort of in order by which ones I got into first; miragehound was definitely the first, though the last four kind of all came on in S7 with the invention of my newest coping mechanism, Mary “Horizon” Somers.

This also turned into more of a “Legends react to other legends hitting on/flirting with them/asking them out on a date”, just kind of whatever I guess. Ships listed below, ship names applied to the paragraphs following:

MiragexBloodhound, CryptoxWraith, WattsonxMirage, HorizonxBangalore, HorizonxLoba, RampartxLifeline.

Anyhow, here we go.

Miragehound – Mirage x Bloodhound

Bloodhound: It’s probably happened before in a joking manner, because it’s Mirage, but when they realize he actually means it this time they’re totally caught off guard. If they’re wearing their mask, they are blushing like the dickens underneath it and smiling because he’s sweet and kind of funny about it, and they really don’t get that often. If they are not wearing a mask, they are trying so hard to not let it show, except they’re grinning like a dork so RIP Hound, Mirage won this one (and also probably your heart).

Mirage: Just a bumbling mess. Bloodhound was probably kind of blunt but also weirdly poetic because They’re Just Like That, probably compared him to the sun or something and he stumbled out a “thank you” and then was like, “your goggles, goggles they’re, you know they’re hot-er-cool-er-I like – your face.” If he hasn’t seen their actual face, he’ll try and add that he’d like to see their face to try and flirt back and then wish he could go consult his 14 year old self, because that guy got two girlfriends at one point and he could really use his advice right about now.

Cryptaith – Crypto x Wraith

Wraith: She wouldn’t know she’d been hit on until an hour later, because Crypto’s version of hitting on someone is probably, “your hair looks nice” or “you’re really good with that knife”. Honestly, she probably wouldn’t know for sure until he offered her some of his lunch, since the man is pretty well known to think everyone is going to poison him. Frankly, she’s quietly flattered.

Crypto: Error 404: brain not found. Issue: Pretty girl flirted with me. Initiate shutdown and embarrassment protocols immediately. This will prompt an immediate system override, he will forget how to talk, trip over something, squeak and run away with his head down in his collar like a turtle. Unfortunately (read: very fortunately) for him, Wraith thinks it is adorable and will probably proceed to flirt with him more and forever.

Wattage – Wattson x Mirage

Wattson: Surprisingly easygoing about it, a little flustered but manages to say something right back with a grin. She definitely did not practice flirting in her head. Never. She will later tell her Nessie or Horizon all about it.

Mirage: Not quite as nervous as with BH but he does bumble a little because Wattson got him when he least expected it. Probably teased him about his equipment not being waterproof and he went on the defense, citing all the alterations he’s made and she said something like, “pretty and smart? I like that.” He got shot while trying to think what to say back.

Horizonlore – Horizon x Bangalore

Bangalore: So, this woman is oblivious. I’m talkin’ brick wall oblivious. No goggles underwater blind. Driving in a blizzard with your lights off so you miss every sign along the way. Horizon hits on her blatantly. Several times. Horizon isn’t sure she’s into women, Loba promises she is. By all calculations, saying, “you’re so pretty I could kiss ye right here in the dropship, lass” should instigate something else than, “oh, uh, thank you! I like you’re hair.” It’s the day Horizon finally says, “you look great in those jeans, want to go on a romantic date?” That Bangalore realizes and has to sit down and contemplate how much of a dumbass she is.

Horizon: Significantly less oblivious, it only took her about three days to realize Bangalore had been hitting on her. She now perks up like a puppy every time, especially since most of what Bangalore says is (sometimes revamped) Shakespeare quotes. Yeah, they’re both romantics.

Horizonhound – Horizon x Bloodhound

Hound: Pretty girls make them stupid. She says anything that can be interpreted as flirtation and they’re hardly much better than Mirage, though they’ll say something poetic and kind of pretty back regardless, thanks to a little thing called “random immeasurable luck”. Having the favor of the gods helps, too.

Horizon: So Bloodhound doesn’t so much hit on Horizon as perform a complicated mating ritual that begins with bringing her small gifts and trinkets and then evolves into book exchanges and evolves from there into actual conversations. Then that, finally, evolves into them growing a pair and, while watching her do something mundane, casually state, “you know, I have recently realized I might have a thing for redheads, felagi.” They are not prepared when she states that she has a thing for blondes and, “I’d like to ken if you’re part of the rule or an exception at, say, at 7?” Because she has been waiting for them to say something like that and takes great satisfaction in practically knowing they’re blushing under their mask.

StarStealers – Horizon x Loba

Horizon: The first few times she didn’t think anything of it, since Loba is just like that. But then there’s a time after a game that Loba says, “I’d like to see you around a lot more often, beautiful,” and tucks a piece of paper in Horizon’s hand with her phone number on it. Horizon probably covers her mouth while giggling like a schoolgirl because it’s fucking Loba and she would have never guessed she’d be interested in her but fuck is she not complaining. Smart pretty women are kind of her ideal.

Loba: So, Horizon is such a sweetheart and whatever method she chooses is probably a little dorky, and maybe a bit clumsy being she’s rather out of practice but will probably involve a love note with a really bad science pun on it because she asked Wattson for advice. Whatever it is, Loba is absolutely head over heels. If she’s in the dropship or otherwise visible, she just slowly grins. If she’s alone she bounces in her seat and might even giggle, just a little bit. She keeps a copy of the note taped to the inside of her Apex locker like a lovestruck teenager (this is, provided, they end up in a relationship).

Rampline – Rampart x Lifeline

Lifeline: Rampart tends to go big or go home. After spending approximately 2 weeks debating with herself internally, Rampart just waltzes right up to her, leans on the doorframe or something and says, “do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?” Lifeline would think she was joking and laugh, wave her off. Then Rampart would sort of panic and say, “no, I mean, like, you wanna like, uh, I like you but in a gay way.” Lifeline then smiles brightly and arranges a date on the spot, much to Rampart’s relief.

Rampart: They’ve been hanging out a bit and are chilling when Lifeline just sorta says, “hey, I think yuh really pretty, you know?” And Rampart, with all the grace of a donkey on roller skates, says, “that’s neat” while her voice cracks like a thirteen-year-old boy’s. Somehow Lifeline’s laugh banishes most of the embarrassment, and she even manages to flirt back without stuttering.

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kaznejis · 4 years

Text

Vignettes- Marco Peña x reader

Anonymous asked: just some like cute fluff with marco, maybe like different stages of your relationship. like first date, kiss, first time, just cute lil fluff like that.

Anonymous asked: I feel like you’re one of the few people who write Marco x readers that I love, so can I request your typical how you meet, first kiss etc imagines xx

A/N: Thanks for sending these in, I decided to get through two requests with this one. Sorry that I haven’t posted anything in the last week or so, I’ve been away but I am at home now and promise to be much more active! For those who have sent in a request, expect to see it on here sometime soon. :)

Also, I gave your parents names in order to make the story flow much better- if those are your parents names then lucky for you, haha!

Feel free to send in any requests!

Vignette- A brief evocative description, account or episode

“Hey Y/N, grab one of these boxes for me?”

“Sure thing, Dad.” You wiped dust from your hands as you hauled another box that was stacked before the now-empty moving truck.

“Thanks,” He grinned from the doorway, wiping the sweat that clung to his forehead as he did, “Once you’ve moved that into the kitchen I have some bad news for you.”

“Okay,” You spoke slowly, blowing a hair from your face as you deposited the (admittedly heavy) box onto the kitchen floor before joining your dad in the hallway, “What’s up?”

“Your mother contacted some nearby families before we came here; long story short we are eating dinner with one of them tonight.”

“You’re kidding?” You groaned, running a hand through your messy hair as you pictured the state of your appearance.

“You’ll have time to fix yourself up,” Rolling his eyes, your dad had practically read your mind, “Think about it, we don’t even have furniture right now let alone food.”

“True,” You sighed, “When are we going?”

“Six.”

“Wait-” You spun to stare grab your phone and check the time, “That’s in two hours!?”

“Better get moving.” Your dad laughed as you sped up the stairs toward the bathroom.

Luckily, you did manage to get ready in time and at 5:52 your family stood on the porch of a large house only a few blocks from yours. Shifting the bottle of champagne that served as a piece offering into the crook of your arm as you moved to knock on the door, the three of you twitched nervously in anticipation.

Eventually the door swung open and light flooded the porch that had been previously lit by a few dim garden-lights. A thin, dark-haired woman stood on the other side of it- a bright smile adorning her features.

“Welcome,” She laughed, beckoning you all inside, “It’s freezing out here. Come in, come in!”

“Thankyou so much for having us,” Your mum smiled as she took the bottle from you and offered it towards the woman, “We don’t really have anything to cook with but I hoped that this would be enough.”

“oooh Anna, thankyou very much,” She placed the bottle down and pulled your mother into a tight hug- doing so caused her to spot you and your father loitering awkwardly in the hallway, “Oh! I’m so sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Laurel, Laurel Pena.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Chris” Your father stepped forward, engaging in a side-hug with Laurel before gesturing towards you, “And this is our daughter Y/N” You smiled awkwardly and gave a timid wave.

“Y/N! Your mother has told me so much about you, come here and give me a hug.” She did so, the hug was warm and comforting- washing away any awkwardness you had originally felt, “Now, let’s go meet the rest of the family.”

Turning down the hallway, Laurel led the three of you towards what was presumably the dining room- noise and light erupted from the room as the activity of a family preparing for dinner bustled from it. Smiling reassuringly, Laurel turned into the room and at the sight of guests the family paused- each member turning toward you.

“The guests have arrived.” Laurel cheered, throwing her arms in the air as the whole family erupted into greeting. Laurel quickly jumped to introduce the each of you to the other family and vice versa. As she moved around the table, you noticed a boy around the same age as you watching you, a small smirk on his face. Chewing on your lip in an attempt to calm the nerves the gaze penetrating the side of your face caused, you willed the eruptions of want that sunk into your spine to stop.

Eventually, Laurel placed her hands on the back of the boys chair, “...and this is my son, Marco.” She ruffled his hair before turning to the seat beside him. “I noted that the two of you are the same age so I thought that it would be great that you sit beside him Y/N.”

Cocking his head to the side, Marco stared at you as he awaited your reaction. You simply bit your tongue and let out a harsh outtake of breath in an attempt to steady your voice, “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

“Great!” Laurel then moved to show your parents to their seats, “Now, I will go and get the last of the food- everyone feel free to tuck in!”

Lowering yourself into the chair hesitantly. you watched as the table began digging into the copious amount of food that littered the table upon different variations of plates and bowls. Marco reached for a dish before him, causing the toned muscles of his arms to flex beneath the short-sleeved shirt that he wore. Turning the skirt of your dress between your fingers and swallowing harshly, you composed yourself before turning to fill your plate with the food that surrounds you.

“She always goes all out whenever we have guests.”

“Hm?” You hummed, turning towards the voice beside you as you hadn’t quite heard what he said.

“My mother,” He smiled fondly, which was a really good look on him, “She always goes all out with the food- we usually have about a quarter of this during normal meals.”

You spluttered out a laugh, reaching to cover your mouth as he grinned at you in triumph, “Well, I’m honoured.”

“You should be,” He snorted around a mouthful of food, “She hasn’t spent that much time cooking in months.” At that, you both continued to converse throughout the night as you both became familiar with each other. You and Marco shared a number of interests and you weren’t going to lie about the fact that you had originally found him extremely attractive anyway- these factors only deepened the feelings you already felt towards Marco.

Apparently, Marco had felt exactly the same.

As the night came to a close and everybody had separated to different rooms in the house, Marco had pulled you aside and asked the question that would start everything, “Would you consider going out with me sometime?”

ii.

You said Yes, of course.

Though the date didn’t end up happening until a few weeks later- you needed time to settle into the new house and become familiar with the local area.

You vividly remembered Marco’s grin when you had gone over to his house and told him that you were ready for the date he had promised you. He had bounded around like an excited puppy, pulling you into a joy-filled hug as his arms squeezed your sides.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 11,” He had beamed, staring down at you as he slowly pulled his arms from around you, “I can’t wait.”

It was now ‘tomorrow’ and you anxiously waited beside your window- every time a car pulled up you would jump in anticipation, even if it was approximately an hour before Marco had arranged to pick you up. Chewing on your nails, you moved away from the window and walked over to the mirror in order to check over your appearance; continuing the cycle you had been performing over the last hour or so.

Just as you begun to settle the nerves that flooded your mind, a car horn sounded from outside the house. Speeding back to your window, you set your gaze upon Marco who was moving to lean against his car. Taking a deep intake of breath and patting down your summer dress one last time, you left your room and headed towards the door.

“Wow!” Marco exclaimed as soon as you stepped down from the entrance to the house, “You look beautiful.”

You laughed, feeling a heated hue of colour filling your cheeks, “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

You weren’t wrong, Marco wore an unbuttoned plait shirt paired with a black top and ripped jeans- he didn’t look too bad; he looked hot. Marco just shrugged his shoulders and opened the passenger door for you, a content grin on his face.

“So what actually are we doing today?” You inquired as you slid into the seat, looking over at Marco as he shut the drivers side door behind him.

“I was going to keep it a secret,” He laughed as he manoeuvred the car out onto the road, “But it’s nothing too big, I thought it would be fun to go bowling and then grab something to eat.”

“Bowling?” You giggled childishly, “I haven’t been bowling in years.”

“Well then,” He grinned at the sound of your laughter, “There’s a pretty high chance that I’ll beat you.”

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed, shoving him softly (mindful of the fact that he was driving), “That doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m bad at it.”

“Well then we’ll just have to see how it goes.”

“Game on.”

In the end, Marco did win the game. It turned out that bowling was a regular for Marco’s family- meaning he had years of experience against your lack of.

After your pathetic defeat, you sat together in a booth within the restaurant that was connected to the bowling complex- each with a burger and a shared plate of curly fries.

“You know what Marco,” You swallowed the abundance of greasy food in order to speak easily, “I had fun today.”

“You did?” He smiled widely, staring at you intently, “Well, I did too.”

“Well I mean, you did plan the date.”

He continued to stare at you for a beat. as if he was contemplating- then once his mind was apparently made up; he smacked a salt-covered kiss to your cheek, “Whatever.” He mumbled cheekily after doing so.

You grinned shyly at Marco, bringing your hand up to brush the area of your cheek that he had kissed, “Ew- You got sauce on my cheek.” Marco broke into a howling laugh that practically crippled his body as you scrubbed at your cheek.

“You’re so cute.” He huffed out as he recovered from his laugh.

“Whatever.” You echoed, twisting your lips bashfully.

“Go out with me again.”

“Slow your roll,” You sipped your drink and winked, “We have to finish this date first.”

iii.

One date turned into two...and eventually three.

Over the two months in which you had now known Marco- you had grown to harbour some intense feelings for the guy. The two of you were in constant contact between dates; texting and calling until the early hours of the morning or simply falling asleep together on facetime. You were adamant that he shared these feelings- giving you the confidence you needed for what you were about to do.

With an arm curled around your shoulder, Marco was walking you home after offering to do so as soon as the movie you had attended came to a close- therefore giving you the opportunity to, well, kiss him.

It had been due to happen since that moment during the first date when Marco had lunged over and smacked a kiss to your cheek- the two of you had been stuck in a limbo of whether or not one of you should make the move. This usually resulted in the end of dates closing on an awkward hug or another cheek kiss.

You were sick of it and taking this much needed step was very much necessary.

“-I just think that the main character should of made a much better choice, do you agree?” Your prolonged train of thought had taken place whilst Marco had gone on a rant about the main protagonist’s moral choices from the cheap, indie movie you had just viewed.

“Yeah,” You grinned up at him as his hands trailed patterns upon your shoulder blades, “I agree.”

“You weren’t listening, were you?” He laughed, though he didn’t seem to be offended nor surprised.

“Sorry,” You snorted out a laugh as he ruffled your hair, “I was trying to listen to you I swear.”

“Well, as long as you tried.” He grinned down at you, moving to encircle his hands around your waist as you came to a stop beneath a fluorescent street-light.

This was it, you thought, as you stared up at Marco’s lips from beneath your lashes under the glow of the light.

Though, it seemed that Marco had been thinking about the same thing. Before you could even begin to lean upward he brought his hand up to cradle your chin with his thumb and forefinger, “Can I?”

You huffed out a soft laugh. “You don’t even have to ask.” And before another word can be uttered, you both met each other in the middle and connected your lips into a slow, sipping kiss that made your heart speed up and your knees weaken.

Eventually the two of you had to pull away for air, as you did so Marco smiled down at you sweetly- with a slight smug look to it, “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

You just smiled bashfully up at him, chewing on your slightly-swollen lip lightly, “Me too.”

“Hey,” Marco spoke, throwing his arm back over your shoulder as you set back onto the path, “Does this mean we’re together now?”

“That’s your way of asking?”

“Yep.”

“Alright,” You giggled, tucking yourself into his side, “Sure, we’re together now.”

iv.

“Are you 100 percent positive that you want to do this?” Marco asked sincerely, running his arm up and down your arm in a comforting manner.

“Yeah,” You nodded insistently, reaching up to brush a stray curl from your boyfriend’s forehead, “I want you.”

Marco gulped, his brown eyes darkening ever so slightly, “Are you sure? I mean-”

“Marco, love.” You laughed, shaking him slightly, “We’ve wanted to do this for weeks and this may be the only time in a while that the house is completely empty for the entire night.”

“Okay,” Marco whispered, closing his eyes and toying with the end of your loose shirt, “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Sighing, you pulled Marco forward and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before pressing your forehead up against his, drawing circles upon his cheek with your thumb, “I know you won’t, I trust you.”

“Good.” Marco mumbled huskily, moving to kiss you again as he lowered you to lay back against the pillows at the top of your bed.

“Fuck,” Marco breathed out as you both lay side-by-side, pliant and sweaty against the bed covers.

“Yeah.” You grinned widely, allowing yourself to roll over and cuddle up against Marco’s side as the endorphins and love hormones produced from sex coursed through you.

“That was good,” Marco grinned, kissing you lightly on the forehead as he pulled you into his arms, “Was that good for you?”

“I loved it,” You sighed, not allowing your mind to catch up before you said what you were about to say, “I love you.”

Marco paused, going still and silent for a moment as you could feel his eyes boring right through you- though he pulled himself back together in a matter of seconds as he let out a glee-filled laugh, “God, I love you too.”

Taglist: @mansaaay @yongboxerrr @the-not-so-iconic @sandovalali12

#Marco Peña #Marco Peña x reader #Marco x reader #fanfiction #oneshot #imagines #the kissing booth 2 #the kissing booth #Marco Peña oneshot #Noah Flynn

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nurgletwh · 3 years

Note

If you do decide you want prompts in the end — I adore the way you write Ogrim and Quirrel interacting, and something fluffy from their younger days could be fun!

Hints, Allegations, and Things Left Unsaid

- - -

Summary

Ogrim is handed an assignment in theoretical diplomacy and practical investigation, recruiting his best friend for assistance.

- - -

This is from the Ghosts That We Knew universe, although it set approximately fifteen years before the Hollow Knight is Sealed in the Black Egg Temple (rather than the in-game time that the other works are currently set in). This is complete and utter silliness with a side of nonsense, but it technically canon for my universe. xD

- - -

Ogrim

- - -

Ogrim snickers as he walks down the hallway through the White Palace. This is going to be fun. The Pale King had given him a faint smile when Ogrim had laughed at the assignment, and stated that he expected his orders to be followed implicitly.

Snickering again, he rounds a corner and heads out across a courtyard. He grins and waves at the two guards on duty, who nod back as he passes by. Reaching the other side, he crosses another hallway and heads through an archway to head down the sweeping stairs circling a fountain. He beams as he catches sight of Isma, waving when she notices him bounding down the stairs.

He diverts from his intended destination to greet her. She’s on duty, so he nods as he steps up beside her.

She smiles back as she finishes up her current discussion, and he waves at Lorial as they take their leave.

“Alright, spill it. What has you grinning like a fool?” she asks him with a smirk.

“I have an assignment. From the king!”

She turns to face him, one hand on her hip, the other on her chin as she gives him a mock once-over.

“That generally isn’t a cause for glee,” she says. “Frustration, yes. Curiosity, yes. Dread, frequently. Are you certain you are feeling well?”

She steps over and places a hand against his cheek. “You don’t seem to be running a fever.”

Ogrim chuckles as she stretches up to look into his eyes. “Your eyes might have a little extra gleam, but I diagnose mischief and not illness.”

He laughs and captures her hand for a moment, squeezing gently before releasing it. “Ah, Isma! The glee is not only due to the assignment, but also because of what it is, who it is for, and whom I am going to rope into helping.”

She snorts. “This should be entertaining. I’ll bite, who’s it for and what are you going to be doing?”

He pulls a folded letter out of his armor with a broad grin. “The Pale King has, and I quote, ‘no clue’ what Lord Furzkopf is trying to locate. I can only imagine how many questions he had to ask; see for yourself!”

Isma shakes her head as she takes the letter, and he smiles, bouncing on his feet as he waits for her to get to the best parts.

He sees her eyes widen, and she gasps, “No!”

“Oh, yes!” he says, knowing she has only made it about halfway through.

She snorts, and jams her hand against her mouth as her eyes crinkle up in glee. He watches as her shoulders start shaking, and she finally bursts out laughing as she reaches the end.

“Stars above, Ogrim! Are you certain the Pale King didn’t know exactly what he was trying to get Lord Furzkopf to describe!?” she laughs.

He shakes his head. “I am not! That makes it so much more exquisitely wonderful, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, gods, Ogrim. I don’t know which to hope for. Lord Furzkopf is an ass and this?” She waves the letter back and forth. “Knowing he had to describe this in such particular detail is a joy unto itself. Because you just know, whether the Pale King knew what was being described or not, he would have taken these notes with exactly the same intensity.” She grins at him. “Lord Furzkopf would have no way to know for sure if it was sincere ignorance, and I’m sure our king just kept asking in that deeply focused way he has.”

She starts snickering. “Not that I didn’t already know who you were going to be grabbing to help from the bounce in your step, but for once I completely agree. This is right up his alley, and one should always consult with the appropriate experts.”

“I am glad we are in agreement!” Ogrim laughs, and Isma smiles at him as it echoes around the fountain courtyard.

Her eyes crinkle and she captures his claw in her hand, squeezing lightly as she says, “Enjoy your assignment, I’ll see you this evening.”

He takes the letter as she hands it back, touching her face lightly with his claw before stepping back to give her a small bow. “As always, my lady,” he says softly.

She scoffs, but he sees the faint flush of white as she turns away, and smiles.

Time to go find his victim… er, partner.

- - -

Ogrim strides through the barracks, grinning widely. It’s late enough in the afternoon that the second shift is waking up, and he watches bleary-eyed guards stumbling around as they try and get enough stimulants into their systems to begin functioning for their day.

He knocks on one of the doors towards the end of a hallway, eliciting a quiet groan and “Go ’way!” from within.

He chuckles and knocks again, eliciting further incoherent mumbles. Figuring he’s given plenty of warning, he opens the door and walks in with a bright “Good morning!” as he heads for the window.

“Gods, Ogrim, what do you wa—don’t you f—argh!!” comes from the bed as he gets to the window and opens the blinds.

Turning towards the bed, Ogrim is greeted with, “You ass!” and he laughs.

“No, my friend!” he says, as he heads towards the bed. “This makes me an ass!” he says as he grabs a corner of the top blanket and yanks it away, uncovering the bugs hidden beneath.

The larger of the two bugs ducks and hides against the pillbug, who puts his arm over them as he glares blearily at Ogrim.

Ogrim smiles and retreats to lean against the desk. “How’d you get Galien out of here? He seems fundamentally incapable of condoning transgressions.”

“Ugh; you would be correct. I found him a date of his own, that’s how.”

Ogrim snorts. “Surely it couldn’t have been that difficult.”

Quirrel sighs, hugging his bedmate and whispering something to them. They relax, but don’t uncurl from their position of hiding.

“No, not particularly. It was more a matter of getting things moving along in such a way that he wouldn’t be here, which meant arranging for Delian’s roommate to be somewhere else, which meant… you get the idea, I’m sure,” Quirrel says.

“I most certainly do,” Ogrim chuckles. “You can be quite determined to entertain your companions. How on earth do you manage not to get caught?”

The companion in question flinches, and Quirrel says, “Technically, we just got caught, didn’t we?”

“True enough! However, in the grand tradition that has existed for centuries, since I am not your direct superior or even their direct superior, I don’t actually have to cope with this particular aspect of your shenanigans.”

Quirrel snorts, getting up onto one elbow and then leaning over his companion again, whispering to them. They shake their head, and he chuckles softly as he kisses their cheek and hums quietly. Pushing himself up and over, he deftly snags the blanket back and throws it over them, once again hiding them as he stands up.

“And for what glorious reason am I being subjected to your over-cheerful presence?” Quirrel asks.

“Ahhh, that’s the joy! Although the orders are to be kept quiet, so I’ll meet you in the commissary in five minutes, and we can head back to one of the offices from there.” Ogrim snickers. “It was lovely seeing your carapace, Miranda.”

The lump under the blanket twitches, and she throws the blanket back to glare at him.

Smiling at her, Ogrim sketches a small bow as Quirrel glances at the ceiling and shakes his head.

Ogrim stands up, calling back as he leaves the room, “Five minutes! Don’t be late!”

- - -

Having located a small empty conference room, Ogrim holds the letter aloft. “We are to locate a missing possession, as requested by the Pale King.”

Quirrel looks at the letter dubiously. “The Pale King has lost something, and – out of all the available options –” he waves his hand around in a vague circle, “he asked you?”

Ogrim shakes his head with a snort. “No. A visitor has lost something, claims it has been stolen.”

“I’m still stuck at the Pale King having asked you.”

“My heart weeps at your lack of faith!”

“Ogrim, the Pale King has at his disposal the entirety of the Guards, including the Investigators. Your job, last I looked, was to beat shit up, not find shit.”

Ogrim chuckles. “Ah, but you see, this visitor has requested… let me think… how was it put.” Ogrim thinks for a moment before continuing, “requested ‘the utmost delicacy and discretion regarding the item that was lost.’”

Quirrel crosses his arms and give Ogrim a flat look. “Now I am definitely calling stagshit. Unless the Pale King has suddenly become feeble-minded and forgetful?”

“My friend! I am hurt – nay, wounded – that you would question my ability to be quiet and careful!”

“…right.”

Quirrel ducks forward, snatches the letter, and opens it to start reading.

After a few seconds Quirrel asks, “So who is this theoretical illustrious guest that has not only managed to lose this whatever, but has the clout, courage, or outright idiocy to actually ask the king to be personally involved in the hunt for a thief or – far more likely, knowing most of the nobility – find it wherever they… uh…”

He stumbles into silence, and Ogrim starts grinning.

Quirrel boggles at the letter, bringing his other hand up to feel it and no doubt check to make sure it is real. He flips it over and looks at the back, then goes back to staring at what has been written.

He finally looks up and meets Ogrim’s eyes.

“Nice forgery. There is absolutely no way that you of all people were asked to investigate this as a favor requiring ‘discretion and delicacy.’”

“I assure you; it is quite real! And I was specifically requested by the Pale King to investigate this in ‘my usual thorough fashion.’”

Quirrel crosses his arms as he stares at Ogrim. “You. He requested you.” Ogrim beams. “My friend, you are a wonderful person, but you don’t have a single fiber of discretion anywhere within you. Every single rumor in this place makes it to you, through you, and is redistributed by you with extreme glee. Everyone knows this. The Pale King holds himself above most things, but he is not unobservant; he is, in fact, quite the opposite. This is not something he doesn’t know. And you are trying to tell me he specifically requested you to find this!?”

“Yep!”

“Does he know you are recruiting me?”

“Yep!”

Quirrel stares at him in silence, and Ogrim smirks back; he was right – this is fun!

“…I suppose the only person I could ask to get confirmation of the assignment is the Pale King?”

“Yep!”

Quirrel slaps the letter against the middle of Ogrim’s chest with a groan, and Ogrim grunts as he grabs it. Most definitely fun!

“Who asked for this help?”

Ogrim grins broadly. “Lord Furzkopf.”

Quirrel stares at him, his whole posture lighting up with unholy glee as the situation finally sinks in.

“You don’t say,” he murmurs.

“Oh, I most certainly do.”

“Utmost discretion,” he purrs.

“Indeed.”

“As provided by one of the Great Knights themselves.”

“You are now seeing the picture!”

Quirrel laughs. “I am indeed, my friend; I am indeed!” He points at the letter and asks, “We get to go interview the victim, I hope?”

“Last I knew, the proper investigative protocol involves verifying the witness statement by any investigator taking over the lead on an investigation.”

“Wonderful. It is a lovely day to be a horrible investigator, is it not?”

“It has turned into one,” Ogrim snickers as he grabs Quirrel’s shoulder. “I trust you can ask the appropriate questions and not giggle? Because there is no way I will make it through this interview.”

Laughing, Quirrel grabs the letter again. “My friend, if Lord Furzkopf stammered through this description of his ‘enhancement aid’ as awkwardly as this letter indicates, while the Pale King laughed his metaphorical ass off behind the guise of a sincere desire to properly ensure his investigators can find the item in question? I am going to assume I have implicit permission to bring the full force of what I am so well known for to bear, in the same way that your discretion is implicitly understood.”

“It is good to see you understand what the Pale King desires from this investigation! Shall we go find Lord Furzkopf?”

Grinning, Quirrel nods as he hands the letter back. Ogrim tucks the letter into his armor and heads out the door, Quirrel following behind.

- - -

They find the Lord in question lounging in one of the gardens, entertaining himself by attempting to… flirt with one of the gardeners working nearby. She looks up and meets Ogrim’s eyes with a pained expression. He nods at her as he says, “You’re excused for now, Gaiea. We need to speak with Lord Furzkopf privately.”

“Yes, of course,” she says as she dumps her tools haphazardly into her bucket.

Lord Furzkopf sputters as she stands. “Now just wait a minute! We were having a friendly discussion and we weren’t done; you can’t just interrupt like that!”

Quirrel steps around Ogrim’s side, breaking into Furzkopf’s line of sight to Gaiea as he says, “We are here regarding your missing figurine?” He turns and blasts a charming smile at Gaiea, who has just stuffed her rags over the top of her tools and is ready to flee. “I’m certain she would love to stay here with you and offer comfort.”

Ogrim sees her grip the handle of the bucket and worries that she is ready to chuck it at his friend. Quirrel turns a little further – making sure Furzkopf can’t see – and starts to sign something Ogrim can’t see either.

Furzkopf shakes his head and says, “Figurine?”

Gaiea relaxes as Quirrel signs, so Ogrim turns to Furzkopf and says, “Yes, the one you reported missing to the Pale King. We have some questions about the descri—”

“Oh!! That figurine, yes, quite so! No, my dear, no need to fuss about this, I’ll be simply fine; don’t you worry!”

Ogrim turns back to see Gaiea shake her head, and Quirrel turns to speak to Furzkopf again. “Are you certain? I can see how losing such a precious item would be hard to bear, how you might need a hand to hold in your time of need. Ogrim can go ask—”

“I am absolutely certain that I can remain… strong during these trying times, there is no need to go to all of this fuss! She may go!”

“As you wish,” Quirrel says, and turns back to Gaiea to bow slightly as he says, “Your time will not be required today, thank you for your enduring patience.”

She scoffs quietly and returns the bow before fleeing down the path.

Quirrel waits until she’s disappeared around one of the trees before turning back to Furzkopf. He holds his hand out to Ogrim as he says, “I just have a few questions about your descriptions.”

Ogrim pulls the letter out and hands it over.

“Are you certain that there is suitable privacy here?” Furzkopf asks, his voice quavering.

Quirrel looks around, startled. “You didn’t seem to think there would be an issue in what you were suggesting Gaiea do for you, I don’t see how this is any different. This is fairly secluded, as you were mentioning.”

Ogrim almost snickers, but catches himself. Quirrel had heard what the ass had been suggesting; good. Ogrim had been planning on making sure that she didn’t need to work anywhere near this end of the palace for the rest of the week – and he still will – but getting Quirrel worked up would generate additional solutions that were usually far more entertaining.

What Ogrim can do is make sure the White Lady is aware she needs to temporarily double or triple the garden staff, so that the seclusion is no longer available.

“I… suppose, if you are confident we won’t be interrupted?”

Quirrel shrugs and gestures around vaguely without saying anything.

“Go ahead then.”

“As you wish,” Quirrel says, unfolding the letter. “From your description, this novelty figurine is made from gold, onyx, and emerald?”

“I made it very clear what the materials were when describing it, I don’t know why you need to be asking me this again!”

“It’s standard procedure, my lord. Please bear with me, I know it can be quite hard. From these notes, I understand that it’s about this long?” Quirrel asks as he holds his hands a little ways apart.

“Not quite, well, more like this,” and Furzkopf holds his hands apart, but much closer together – although they keep wavering about, refusing to settle on a specific distance.

“Ahhh, ok, I’ll note that then. Accuracy is important.”

“I’m sure, quite sure, yes.”

Quirrel skims down the notes again, tapping his finger near the bottom of the letter. “Is this a downward or upward version?”

“…I am quite sure I have no idea what you mean.”

Quirrel looks up at Furzkopf, innocently puzzled. “Do you put it in upwards or downwards?”

“This isn’t… it doesn’t go into me anywhere!”

Ogrim nearly gasps, trying to keep from laughing. He grabs his claws together behind his back, and stares off into the trees just over Quirrel’s head. He knew he had chosen the right bug for the job.

“Really?” Quirrel looks back at the letter. “This description is fairly straightforward for a standard model. Barring the materials involved, I don’t see anything particularly special about it.”

Lord Furzkopf stares at Quirrel, speechless.

“You have the hinged version, which I must say is a wyrm to keep clean – honestly, I’m impressed by your dedication on that front – and the little protrusions are definitely a bonus in my experience—” Quirrel has taken to moving his hands as he describes the… novelty figurine in question, demonstrating the various… options he is describing “—but being made from metal and stone means that it will stay cold for quite a while. Which in itself can be quite pleasurable, but… well, that’s a whole different topic, of course.” He looks up and smiles at Furzkopf, holding his hand out slightly, palm up.

“Of course,” Furzkopf whispers.

“Regardless, I suppose whether it goes upwards—” Quirrel curls his fingers up and then tweaks his wrist to rock them forward as Furzkopf watches, stunned, “—or downward—” Furzkopf whimpers as Quirrel rotates his hand and curls his fingers again, providing another helpful demonstration, “—doesn’t matter so much as we search. Hmmm. Where was the last place you saw it?”

“Ahhh, that would be in my rooms of course,” he says faintly.

Quirrel skims the letter and nods. “You wouldn’t have happened to take it with you while visiting Vashnia?”

Ogrim looks at Quirrel. That wasn’t in the letter. He knew Furzkopf was doing his level best to get into Vashnia’s bed, but in addition to his naturally repellant personality, he continued to harass anything that moved in an attempt to get it to move on him. Last he knew, Vashnia wouldn’t do much more than taunt him.

Quirrel is assiduously reading the note, as if the answer to his questions were present somewhere within. Which they are not, because Ogrim has re-read the note several times in absolute amazement.

“…I perhaps may have happened to have it in my robes when she suggested we have drinks, to show her, you know, simply as an amusement of course.”

Quirrel nods, “Of course, as one does.”

“Yes! As one does, certainly there was nothing meant by it at all!”

“Well, it obviously means something, or we wouldn’t be here having this conversation, would we?” Quirrel says, looking up and smiling brightly.

“No, of course not… I mean yes, it does!”

“Right! Thank you for your time, Lord Furzkopf. I believe we have enough information to get a firm grasp on the situation. We will be sure to keep you updated of any changes or progress. Have a nice day!”

“Yes, of course, please do that,” Furzkopf replies weakly.

Absolutely positive he won’t be able to say anything without laughing, Ogrim simply nods his head at Furzkopf, and follows Quirrel out of the gardens.

- - -

“I’m going to shove his novelty figurine into him sideways,” Quirrel growls once they are out of earshot.

Ogrim grabs his shoulder and shoves him into one of the sheds, wedging the door shut behind him.

“No, you will not.”

Quirrel glares at him, crossing his arms.

“Vashnia knows how to handle creeps like him, she’s been doing it for years. He’s making a fool of himself.”

Quirrel snorts. “And Gaiea?”

Ogrim gives him a tight smile. “The White Lady will have a report of my observations by the end of today. I know she’s been lightly monitoring him; it won’t be so light after this.”

“Good.”

He stares at Ogrim for several moments before grinning. “I know where his blasted novelty figurine is, by the way.”

Ogrim laughs, and grabs his shoulder. “I was wondering! I take it Vashnia has it?”

Quirrel nods with a snicker. “Miranda is her cousin, and has been staying with her the last few weeks. Vashnia has taken to spiking his drinks and then flirting with him shamelessly.” He gestures back towards the gardens with a sigh. “Unfortunately, the side-effect of that frustration seems to be an increase in his harassment of others. My guess is that the White Lady missed it simply because it’s only stepped up in the last two or so days. Your report may not surprise her all that much, to be honest. Her staff seem quite comfortable reporting up to their supervisors, it may just have been the normal delay of bureaucracy in inaction.”

Ogrim scoffs. “That doesn’t help Gaiea much.”

Quirrel grins wickedly. “Gaiea was armed with trowels, at least two pruning shears, a turning fork, and a trimming saw. Two of those items you never saw, because she had tucked them into her shell when he started getting suggestive. She’s strong, she’s fast, and volunteered to be the one in his presence today. If he’d done more than talk – which is all he’s ever done, according to Miranda – he would have been missing parts faster than you or I could see.”

Ogrim stares at him.

“My friend, never piss off a gardener. They have tools and chemicals, and are not afraid to use them.”

Ogrim shakes his head. “Duly noted.”

Quirrel snickers. “Let’s go talk to Vashnia and see what her plans were for this… toy, because I’m guessing it’s far more entertaining than anything either of us could come up with.”

Grinning, Ogrim follows his friend out of the shed and into the palace.

- - -

Several days later, an interesting novelty figurine was found in the hallway outside of Lord Furzkopf’s door, laying as if dropped from the pocket of a robe.

The cleaning staff considerately placed it on a towel and gave it to the serving staff, who placed on his tray as they brought him breakfast, lying beside his fork and knife.

- - -

Do a Google Translate on Furzkopf. ;-)

#my fic #hollow knight #ogrim (hollow knight)#isma (hollow knight)#quirrel (hollow knight)#fanfic #hollow knight fanfic

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the-scarecrxw · 3 years

Note

📓 :D

okay <3 I'm very fond of The Boys Retiring apparently but I have this one fic that I've just barely started but it's probably gonna be long.

So au Jeremiah going crazy plotline never happens. it's just chaos of chaos' sake. Rome still gets shot and is out of the picture for awhile. Jonathan and Jervis are up to no good until Jervis gets arrested (Jonathan very rudely does not give a fuck and doesn't help him) then like a week later Jerome emerges and together they cause chaos.

After a seemingly only Jerome attack on the gcpd (jim voice: that knockout gas hasn't been identified, tho. could be Crane.) Jim and Harvey are searching around the gcpd for any stragglers of Jerome's followers and such and whoops they check an alley and completely interrupt Jerome and Jonathan's post mission adrenaline rush bang and after some awkward back and forth (and Rome admitting he tossed his gun the moment he saw Jon) Jim is like "fuckin idiots. please cuff yourselves."

As they're leading them away Harvey makes a snide comment calling them freaks (bc Jerome made a joke about handcuffing Jonathan) and Jonathan does Not take it well and promptly elbows him and bolts, and Jerome quickly follows. Jim and Harvey take fire but the boys are able to duck out of the alley unscathed.

or so it seemed. Jerome looks back to not see Jonathan. He of course immediately turns back and oh god Jonathan is on the ground and there's blood and Jerome is panicking and getting angry because and Jim Fucking Gordon shot his boyfriend in the lung and hes probably dying.

this got long whoops one sec

Jim. feels very bad. he has very much so always felt bad about Jonathan. he always thought if he'd been quicker he could have saved him from his dad's serum. if he payed more attention to his case afterwards he wouldn't have gotten sent to Arkham. Abused there. Wouldn't have become Scarecrow. And now he just shot him. he's just a kid, really. barely 18.

Jim of course is like "okay, be mad later and help me stabilize him. get him on his side, put lots of pressure." in the bg Harvey is calling an ambulance and a patrol car to take Jerome to the precinct. Jerome very fiercely fights that he's not leaving Jonathan, who at this point is very out of it. So out of it that Jerome is very concerned and Jim is like "uhh yeah he's in shock because his lung just collapsed" and Jerome is like👌this close to strangling Jim but that would mean taking pressure off of Jonathan's wound.

Patrol car is there, ambulance another few minutes out. Officer switches places with Jim so he can take Jerome to the precinct [AND THIS IS WHERE I LEFT OFF WRITING SO FAR] but Jerome is still refusing but he eventually manages to pull him away (Harvey replaces him to apply pressure) While they're driving to the precinct Jim awkwardly tries to reassure him that Jonathan will be okay, the operation to help him rarely has complications. Jerome doesn't respond and Jim just... politely pretends he doesn't hear Jerome biting back sobs.

They keep Jerome in one of the interrogation rooms while Jim ya know washes all this blood off himself (Jerome is still covered in it) I haven't thought much about this portion of the fic, it's moreso time filler for until Jonathan gets out of surgery. Probably just gonna be Jerome refusing to talk to anyone until he can see Jonathan. Eventually Jim gets a call from Harvey that Jonathan is out of surgery, stable, and just waking from anesthesia so it would be the perfect time to interrogate him and Jim reluctantly agrees.

Jim, though, does have a heart and informs Jerome of the news and he immediately flips and demands to see him but Jim keeps refusing until Jerome yells "I'll stay in Arkham peacefully for the rest of my life if I can just get some time with him!" Jim reluctantly agrees (and helps clean him up bc they're not gonna bring him in covered in blood)

When they arrive Harvey has already been questioning him for a bit but it hasn't gone far bc Jon is still loopy and very good at avoiding questions. The moment he sees Jerome he tries to get out of bed except he's been quite literally strapped down to it so that doesn't go well. Harvey steps back and lets Jerome sit by Jon

We get very soft times from the pov of the awkward observers. Rome holds Jon's hand, occasionally strokes his face and hair and kisses his cheek while they're quietly talking and it's all very sweet and so incredibly uncharacteristic from what they're used to seeing from. well. maniacs.

As Jon really starts to get more lucid it's clear he's not comfortable being strapped down at all, he's constantly testing the straps and squirming and Jerome starts to unstrap him but Jim is quick to protest, saying he has to stay in bed and they can't risk him trying to escape while injured and Jerome snaps "he's not going to escape! he's going to stay and cooperate. He just doesn't like the straps. They did that to him in Arkham." Jim lets Jerome finish unstrapping him. they talk quietly some more for a bit before Harvey interrupts like "hey we really got to uh. talk and shit." and they both agree so the four of them sit there and after a moment of silence Jerome goes

"I'll agree to go to Arkham and stay if Jonathan can be pardoned. Blame it on temporary insanity-- something. Anything to keep him from going back there. He can function in society-- he can." Jonathan reluctantly nods and agrees

"Arkham tried giving me a medication. it quieted the Scarecrow. made it easier to ignore his suggestions and the urges he would give me. I refused to take them... But I'll take them now. If I can visit Jerome in Arkham."

Jim and Harvey of course initially protest but Rome and Jon make a really good argument. It's clear the arrangement was something they'd talked about before, but was still painful to enact. They clung to each other's hands, shaking. They didn't like the idea of being seperated. Being together kept them sane but Jerome refused to have Jonathan go back to Arkham. it had been a long argument and a lot of convincing before Jonathan agreed to the plan of Jerome going to Arkham alone.

So.... it happens. There's an actual trial this time (bc Negotiations) Jonathan is still too hurt to attend in person so lawyer in his stead and such. Jonathan watches the news with tears in his eyes in his hospital room as they get everything they planned. As Jerome gets carted off past a jeering crowd into an Arkham inmate transfer van.

I don't have much past this point. I imagine part of the deal has Jonathan being some sort of city/state ward for awhile? he's technically an adult but he'd been in basically prison since 15, so he has help getting set back up. I imagine a filler chapter of a Very Mundane Day of Jonathan's life.

Wakes up in his shitty little apartment. takes his morning meds. has a shitty poptart breakfast (he never really liked them until Jerome introduced him to the cookies and cream flavor) Goes to some classes (he's learning psychology...) where he pretends to be a normal person. Works after school (he's a library assistant.) Gets home and ponders if he needs glasses (glasses jonathan supremacy.) Has a shitty dinner while he emails his court ordered therapist that yes he is doing perfectly fine (that's a lie) no he doesn't need to see him this week, that panicked email in the middle of the night was absolutely nothing. Takes his night meds. Does homework or studies until he passes out. Rinse and Repeat until Saturday.

Saturday is his one good day. That's his Jerome day. His therapist notes an immediate uptick in his mood on Saturdays for approximately 4 days until it rapidly drops to concerning levels. Seeing Jerome sort of... Resets him. Cant quite say happy, how can you be happy when you can only see the love of your life your boyfriend for two hours once a week? For a long time they weren't allowed to touch, Jerome was handcuffed to the table. Now they hold hands his entire visit and sit close enough to whisper to each other softly, and they try to sneak kisses when the guard looks away for a moment.

Jerome's therapist notes his mood stabilizes on Fridays and lasts until Tuesday, in which he returns to the expected maniacal behavior.

....

okay I have more I want to write about this but I have to start getting ready for work so :( please enjoy this <3

#asks #b-rainlet #my writing #scarejokes #jonathan #jerome #fic: caught

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citrussdance · 3 years

Text

Cardfight!! Vanguard Overdress Unit Lore: 001 “Trickstar”

In space? or simply above the planet’s surface? Amidst that faint light, change was born.

The thin and weak “wave” became a powerful “movement” that made “that space” tremble. In the very center of that trembling “space”, “it” was the first to be born.

A head, torso, two arms and legs- as it emerged, “it” slowly took on the shape of something humanoid. Eyes, a nose, and finally, a mouth appeared, creating the shape of a smile.

From the moment “it” was born, it was filled with joy.

Whispered prayers and the wishes that preceded them, carried on the “wave” like a rushing torrent, warmly embraced its spirit and body; and ever since “it” gained sentience, certain words repeatedly echoed in its head; a careful arrangement of sounds, words that proved its own existence.

Finally, an image came into its newborn heart.

Sparkling with overwhelming brightness, a white light invited “it” to the heart of this planet’s greatest nation.

As far as one can see, campfires as small as ants dot the wasteland, about to go out.

“Reiyu, Zonne, Rona!” Rino calls softly, in order to not disturb the pre-dawn mood. Surrounding the fire and wrapped in blankets side-by-side, the other three give no response. They sleep deeply.

“I’ll leave them be; they walked a lot yesterday, after all.”

The four girls’ rule is that the one who could stay awake would take watch, but Rino had kept watch throughout the night by herself.

Throwing a small twig onto the fire, Rino hugs her knees.

To the side, a large egg, about the size of a young child, sleeps. To say it is “sleeping” is not a figure of speech- this hatching egg has feet and a tail, and within its body, encased in its shell, there are two (closed) eyes. This egg is called the “Sunrise Egg”.

“Fuee~ I can’t eat any more!”

Rino laughs quietly at the unwitting Rona’s sleep talk. Rona is the youngest, and the spoiled child of the group. However, her honest dances have saved the group’s mood countless times since this journey began.

Rino’s stomach rumbles quietly.

Everyone is hungry. They chose to set out on this journey by themselves, without relying on anyone’s kindness, but even the Blaze Maidens, who undergo strict training for their roles, are in truth struggling to endure the pressures of the journey.

-- The Blaze Maidens.

The world’s oldest temple, the “Red Temple of Dawn”, lies ten days’ walk from the backwoods of the Dragonia Mountain Range in the center of the Dragon Empire. The Blaze Maidens’ role is to protect and watch over a treasure that can only be found there. After dedicating their lives to this faith, the maidens live out their lives at the temple, only rarely seeing the outside world. Just ten days ago, Rino, Reiyu, Zonne, and Rona would never have dreamed of leaving the Red Temple of Dawn.

“We can’t go on like this. Let’s give our thanks to this land, and leave soon.” The oldest of the party, Reiyu, had said that two days ago.

At those words, Rino, who had been fondly watching Zonne eat chicken and Rona stuff her face with sweets, had frozen.

In the first village they had stayed in, the Blaze Maidens had been received warmly. The Dragon Empire is a militaristic country, ruled by a dragonic emperor. However, it is also a civilized country that follows the tradition of the world’s oldest country, Dragonia; many of its people are religious, and priests and shrine maidens are revered. So, when the Blaze Maidens and the walking egg descended from the northern mountain, the villagers, poor though they were, had gladly broken into their winter stocks and showed them the best of hospitality. In the blink of an eye, food and presents had been heaped upon them.

Only Reiyu had not been happy. “Remember what the priest said. We, along with Rino and the Sunrise Egg, were ordered to seek “the truth of this world” and find hope for the future to bestow upon the people. All of these things gathered here are the villagers’ very lifeline until spring. We can’t let ourselves be spoiled by their kindness.”

The normally cheerful Zonne and honest Rona, and even the reasonable Rino had become somber. They are each highly capable Blaze Maidens, who the priest had trusted to journey to the outside world. However, while they are devout followers, they are also normal girls. Having warm food to fill an empty belly, a hot bath to soothe the weariness of travel, and a soft place to sleep instead of the hard ground. . . how can one blame them for being tempted by such things? Reiyu had simply been a little more of an adult than the other three.

That night, when the village was sleeping, the four girls had stolen away in secret, leaving only a polite thank-you letter and a blazing amulet containing a blessing. To them, the honest kindness of the first people they had met on their journey had also become their first bitter experience.

The eastern sky begins to lighten, faintly; dawn is approaching. As the embers die out, Rino, who has drawn closer to the egg, begins to nod off. Soon, it will be time to set off towards the world of dreams.

Then. . .

Outside the circle where the maidens gathered to sleep, a white-hooded head pokes out from the “empty dimension”. From there, it turns this way and that, surveying its surroundings. The only thing it hears is the soft breathing of the girls and the egg.

“Stay asleep, just like that. Now, it’s my playtime,” it whispers, and out pops the rest of its body.

With a white hood that extends into a cloak, the body that houses “it” is stiffer than a living being’s, being best approximated as like to a doll. In the dim light of dawn, “its” white face is the only thing visible, floating in the darkness.

“I’ll help myself to this~”

One of the gold pins holding Rino’s hair up disappears.

“And this-”

The bracelet around Reiyu’s wrist is gone.

“I’ll borrow this, too, okay?”

Three glass marbles from the pouch at Rona’s hip. These strangely shaped beads are normally used to tell the future, but when the girls are bored, they serve as toys, as well.

“Oops- this one’s pretty important, hm?”

One of Zonne’s beloved giant folding fans.

Finally, “it” turns to the egg, and puts a hand on its hip, thinking. “Hmm. . . I want to play a trick on you, too, but you have nothing to steal, huh? Boring.”

“You won’t be able to steal anything at all anymore.” Zonne’s voice, trembling with anger, comes from behind “it”.

“Eh- ?”

Spinning this way and that, suspended from a tree, “it” cries and makes excuses. “Trickstar! I can’t believe you’d tie me up like this! Trickstar!”

“Trickstar. . . is that your name?” Rino asks.

“Probably, yes. . . since in the beginning, I only knew that word.”

“You. . . I thought it was weird that the marbles kept disappearing!”

“Oh! Those, those are pretty! I love them. Everyone looks like they’re having so much fun, playing with them!” Trickstar perks up.

“Oi, where’s your shame? Your remorse?!” Zonne, who had been pretending to sleep until then, had been able to capture Trickstar in the blink of an eye- as expected of a Blaze Maiden, as well as a prominent martial arts practitioner.

“I’m sorryyyy! It was only a little joke!”

“Stealing is not a joke, it is a punishable crime,” Reiyu warns in a tone as cold as ice. “In some towns and villages, it’s punished with an instant death penalty. . .”

“Eek!” Trickstar, still tied up, turns pale all the way to the tips of its fingers and trembles.

“Oh, Reiyu. It returned all the things it stole, and even apologized. . .” begins Rino.

“You’re always too soft, Rino,” replies Zonne.

“That’s a good thing, though!” Rona laughs.

“Very well. If you promise to never steal our things again, we’ll let you go. - However, I want to ask you two things, Trickstar.” Reiyu says. Behind her, in the light of sunrise, moons of various sizes, as well as a planet that colors the heavens, rise into the sky. “One. You are able to travel into the ‘empty dimension’. So, those bindings mean nothing.” “Mhmm. You’re right, Reiyu.” Trickstar slips out of the ropes as if they don’t exist at all, and poses with hands and legs outstretched. “Playing at being tied up sounded interesting, so I did it! This is just another prank. It was fun, right, Zonne?”

Zonne’s face twitches. At some point, Trickstar even learned their names.

“Another question. Why us?”

“Did you want our things? We’re not carrying anything valuable. . .” Rino adds.

“No, Rino. You’re very valuable and special. For some reason, when I fell to this planet Cray, I thought, ‘I have to be here.’ There are people who I’m meant to meet, and who I’m supposed to be with.”

“So, you’ve been following us for three days?”

“Ehe, so you’ve known since the beginning, Rona.”

“Wait a second. You just said that you fell, right? Are you not from this planet?” Rino asks. By the way, aliens and extraterrestrials are not very unusual to the people of Cray.

“I don’t know- I don’t remember. I mean, Rino, you guys don’t remember when you were born, right?”

“That’s true. . . Hm. This conversation is over. Go where you like, Trickstar- but don’t steal.”

“That’s just boring, Reiyu. Hey, take me with you! I’ll be useful, I promise.”

“Look, you. We’re not exactly on vacation, here.” Zonne frowns.

“I know- you’re protecting the dragon’s egg, the Sunrise Egg. Rino stands in front of everyone and prays to the egg every morning, right? Egg-kun sits back and puts its feet up, all smug. It’s really funny!”

“You saw that, too?” Rino mumbles, surprised. It had been decided at the temple that the Sunrise Egg is Rino’s egg, so she leads the prayers, too.

“Our hands are already quite full,” says Reiyu.

“Then, how about this? If you travel about half a day to the west from here, there’s a pretty rich village that’s planning to hold a festival tomorrow. There, I think you can eat and buy all the things you need without worrying. Everyone decided they want to travel on their own power, without relying on others, right?”

“Wow. . .” says Rona.

“Wait, wait. You don’t just disappear, you can teleport to faraway places, too? That’s amazing.” Zonne blinks.

“. . . Rino, you decide. This is your egg and your journey, after all.” Reiyu turns to Rino.

“Eh- ?! Ah, what should I do. . .” With the spotlight suddenly focused on her, Rino becomes flustered. Her gaze automatically turns to her egg, the Sunrise Egg.

The Sunrise Egg is already awake.

It plops over to Trickstar, and comes face to face with this strange clown.

Stare.

The Sunrise Egg stares at Trickstar.

Staaare.

The Sunrise Egg stares at Trickstar.

Staaaaaaare.

Finally, the egg headbutts Trickstar with a crash, and starts happily dancing. Trickstar dances too, drawing a circle to the rhythm. Their cheers grow, filling the wasteland campground with all the bustle of a festival. “Yahoo-!”

The four maidens look at each other.

Rino laughs and gives her answer. “Okay. Let’s bring it along, according to the egg’s guidance. May the great sun and holy dragon smile upon you.”

“May the great sun and holy dragon smile upon you.” The other three repeat the line in harmony.

And finally, the sun ascends, shining upon the lands of planet Cray. A day in the lives of the Blaze Maidens and the dragon’s egg begins.

Now that they have Trickstar, this day marks the start of a new journey.

#trickstar #cardfight vanguard #cardfight!!vanguard #overdress #vanguard overdress #カードファイトヴァンガード #カードファイトヴァンガードオーバードレス #cardfight!! vanguard overdress #kondou yuuyu #kondo yu-yu #kondo yuyu #dragon empire #translation #english translation #japanese translation

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 4: Venusian Vogue

Chapters: 4/?

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags: Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:

Images of broken light Which dance before me like a million eyes They call me on and on across the universe. Across the Universe-The Beatles

“I am Loki.”

“I asked for a bride.”

The declarations smashed into you like fists and took your breath with them.

There was a ring on your finger. Silvery, plain, simple. Why hadn't you noticed it before?

This was clearly Loki. Sunken eyes, and onyx hair, and refined bones. Exactly like the pictures. Why hadn't you noticed?

Too many things all at once. Too much. A fearful whine escaped your teeth, as you tugged on the ring. It didn't budge.

“You're supposed to be dead.” You whispered.

His face fell the instant you spoke.

“You know. I sometimes think that myself. Yet somehow I remain. Take it as a reassurance: you will not lose me to battle, or accident. I will never leave you. I suppose that is something that new brides must worry about, especially human ones. You may put that fear to rest.”

“That's not what I'm-” You clamped your mouth shut. You were in a bad position, worse than you'd ever been, maybe. You were completely alone here; you could contact no one for help. You weren't even sure where exactly 'here' was-no one knew where Asgard was located.

You were trapped in a room with a madman. A prince among his own people, who had proven himself capable of the mass murder of humans like you. Yet claiming you were his bride.

No one would come to your aid.

Did anyone even know you were missing?

You glanced at the ring once more. Its twin rested proudly on his own left hand. What choice did you have?

You had to play along. At least until you found some way out of this. Stay on the madman's good side, as much as that was possible.

“Why me?” You asked, fighting down your panic. Just gather information for now. “I'm literally nobody.”

“I don't understand either.” He sat down on the bed, just a little closer to you than arms length. “This was supposed to be a chance at reconciliation. I willingly gave myself up in a symbolic act of unity. Sacrificed my own freedom.”

You side-eyed him hard. Gave up his freedom? In what capacity? He wasn't the one kidnapped and married without any knowledge or choice!

“This isn't an uncommon arrangement.” He continued. “Your species has done this since time immemorial. From kings all the way down to commoners, uniting families, uniting fortunes, uniting entire lands. Surely your...leader...understood what was to be gained. Yes, I did a terrible thing to your people, but this should have forged a new alliance. A promise that not only would I not do such a thing again, but that my formidable prowess would be for your people, rather than against them. Was this not enough? This should have opened the way for trade, for treaties...And you! Why do such a thing to you? One of his own people?”

“Oh, I'm not his.” You said. “I voted against him. I march in protests against his shitty policies. I oppose him in any way I can. I'd say 'maybe that's why', but it really can't be. I'm nowhere near important or influential enough for the government to pay any attention to me. They're too busy trying to kill me through austerity. Or through the cops.”

Loki's face darkened. “I should find that officer and flay him. Make you a bodice of his skin.”

He'd been reaching for your shoulder, but you flinched away.

“Okay see? That right there? That's why people might not want to ally with you.” You pointed out.

“He shouldn't have hurt you.”

“That's true. That doesn't mean you can use my pain as an excuse to rampage on Earth!”

“I shan't!” He protested. “Never again, I promise you that.”

But how good was the promise of government? Politician or hereditary ruler, it was all the same. How good was the word of a murderer? How many promises had he already broken?

“How do you feel?” He asked. “You seem...lively. Whatever you were drugged with, is it having a lasting effect?”

“I'm a little disoriented, but I'm awake.” You said. “The food and water helped.”

“Yes. About that. Ah. Would you like to see your rooms? I've been anticipating your arrival-well, someone's arrival-for some months now, and I've had chambers created that befit your new station.”

The big unknown outside. Beyond this room was nothing but uncertainty. But you would be the first human being to see this new Asgard. You told yourself it was a perk.

“Um...” You mumbled. “My clothes...” You weren't going out there in a flimsy hospital gown, that was for sure.

“Being cleaned and mended.” Loki informed you. “I have a simple gown that I believe should fit you. Here.” Wit a sweeping gesture, he produced a voluminous, forest green garment out of seemingly nowhere.

You scooted away. “How did you do that?” You demanded.

“Magic, of course.” He said. “You...don't know about the magic...?”

You shook your head and took the robe from him. It felt real enough, smooth and soft, with fur trim and pin tucks. This was simple?

“What do you know about me, my dear?” He asked.

“Not much. Just what...turn around!” Sheepishly, he turned his back so you could change. “Just what was on the news. And the approximately three million conspiracy websites that popped up afterwards. You might be shocked by how many people think you were an inside job.”

“A what?”

“That's not even counting all the cults. You and Thor really got the radicalization machine cranking them out. White supremacists, nationalists, doomsday cults...thanks a lot. Not as if we didn't have enough problems cleaning up the mess you left behind.”

“That...was not my intention. Were you...?”

“I was not part of any cults. I was also not part of the celebration of your death, either.”

The news broadcast had interrupted every television, lit up every phone. A tired and battle-worn Thor, looking not one inch the hero the world knew him to be, as he towered over the reporter. He gave only a short statement: His brother Loki was dead, perished in honorable battle, in an effort to protect the galaxy from an ancient enemy.

People had trusted him. They'd seen the destruction that enemy had caused, in their quest to destroy everything. The odd teleportation anomalies in England that had dominated youtube for a long time. The leaves in your bathroom, the foreign plants in the park. Exotic, even alien creatures being spotted.

People threw parties at the news of Loki's demise. You'd gone out, gotten yourself exactly one drink, and then stayed home for the weekend. It didn't seem right, not after seeing Thor so hollowed out. You didn't really get on with celebrating the death of your enemies anyway, only the success of your causes.

“Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“But yeah, all I really know is that you attacked us out of the blue, and brought an army with you. You caused billions in damages and cost hundreds of lives. Thousands more lost everything. The economic blow is still with us, and led to some of the problems I've been marching against. And then you died. Except not, obviously. Was Thor lying to us?”

“No. He truly believed me dead. I did too, until I woke up. So you know nothing of me. I feared that might be the case. I am no warlord, not truly. I am the foremost sorcerer of Asgard. My magic has many applications, one of which is that I am rarely found without what I need.”

“So magic is real?” Why not? Aliens were real. Gods were apparently real.

“Yes, very. When times were...better, I used to tutor younger students. I might go back to doing that, once we are more established. Once we are safe.”

Safe? From what? Was whatever it was that had destroyed Asgard still out there? Thor had said otherwise, before the radio silence, but he had also thought that Loki was dead, and he was wrong about that, so...

“May I look now, dear?”

“Oh...yeah. I'm dressed.” The gown did fit, though mostly because it was a shapeless, oversized thing that was closed around you with ties. Still, it was luxurious, and made you feel like you were actually pretty-as long as no one looked at you too closely. Was this what a princess wore? You shouldn't allow yourself to get too used to it. As soon as you found a way out, you were out.

“Delightful. Even such a simple gown enhances your beauty. Will you come with me, dear? Let me show you our grand achievements.”

You didn't really want to be exposed to the people of Asgard, but this room was no safer than anywhere else right now. Loki hovered, and you stood, and managed a few wobbly steps before you overbalanced. He caught you instantly.

“Don't worry.” He murmured. “I'm here.”

As if that wasn't the problem in the first place.

“So, while you were carrying me off...I mean, when you, uh, received me, did you notice a cane lying around?” You asked. “I had one. Did the guys who brought me give it to you?”

“I'm afraid not.” He said apologetically. “They seemed strangely eager to quit the area.”

“Yeah, well. They had just committed a felony.” You griped. “They probably had orders to disappear. And they probably didn't want to hang around and witness what a warlord was gonna do to me.”

He winced. “I promise you, that's not what I really am.”

“Sorry.”

He held out his arm for you. “I don't have your cane, but I can support you. We will have another cane made for you. There should have been an Artificer and an apprentice Healer in here at some point, to measure you for a new prosthetic.”

“Uh, there were. I, uh, kinda told them to piss off.”

“Ah. I suppose I cannot blame you, now that I know of your situation. But they are here at your service, as is all of Asgard.”

He helped you limp along, somehow maintaining his dignified stride, even as you wobbled along like a penguin. The hallways were as bland and labyrinthine as a human hospital, if somewhat more softly lit. Again the light source was obscured behind thin panes of cloudy crystal, which diffused the light, giving everything a comforting, if slightly mysterious atmosphere, which the general emptiness of the area only enhanced.

There were few people here, but for some reason, you had been placed in a room far within the hospital complex. Maybe they wanted to hide you away, so that no one knew you were here until they were ready to introduce you to Asgard. Or until they were certain you were going to survive. It might cause a scandal if the prince's bride just up and died upon arrival.

Or perhaps it was to protect you. There were plenty of reasons why a human bride might not be accepted by the Asgardian populace; everything from nationalism, to someone wanting to make a bid for that crown themselves.

There were still no windows to be seen, and everything was made of stone, just like in the hospital room. Out here, in the halls and waiting rooms, the desks, chairs, and tables all seemed to be joined to the walls and floor, as if the whole place had been carved from a single, solid piece, like the rock-cut architecture of the fabled city of Petra. Here again were the creamy grays and oranges lining the walls, though a smooth black also made an appearance.

Eventually, you came to what must have been a foyer, with a high ceiling, complex stone mosaics, and huge, gorgeously carved double doors, but still no windows.

“We will be going outside now.” Loki said. “This facility is within the palace complex, and is not far from your special chambers, but we will have to cross a few halls and courtyards. There are plenty of places to sit, so if you need a rest, simply say so.”

He opened the doors for you, and you stepped out into a world of stone.

Everything was stone, stone or metal. Before you was a wide open courtyard, clearly unfinished, but spacious. At regular intervals were stone towers supporting open pillared hallways in a multiple storied, vaguely Roman courtyard style. The towers shot up, and up, and up...you climbed them with your gaze, following them to the heights to which they had to buttress each other with thin struts of stone, higher still, where they joined with an impossibly high ceiling.

There was a roof over the courtyard, so tall that your couldn't fathom how it had been built. Beyond the courtyards stacked walkways-six full stories-you could see the tips of other towers, lined with lights, merging with this high rise ceiling. Was the entire palace built under this massive shelter?

Clearly the sun did not reach into the palace. To offset this, the crystal-paned, inset lights were everywhere, creating complex patterns that mimicked the intricate knotted carvings that chased up the towers and pillars. The corbels glared down at you, fierce masks of bearded men, wolves, dragons and birds, lights in their eyes.

Combined, it was not as bright as sunlight, but not dim either. The softness of the glow made shadows diffuse, made the stone look soft and fake, and even shimmery in places, like the set pieces in eighties fantasy movies. If not for the pain in your bruises, you'd have thought the dreamy atmosphere was just that, and that you were about to wake up from this absurd dream any moment now.

But the pain was there, and denied that simple, hopeful wish. And Loki was there, gently urging you forward like he was a real gentleman, instead of a heinous war criminal. There were a few other people out here as well; walking the courtyards pillared halls, resting on stone benches, carving hollows into the ground.

There was no soil here. All stone. As you crossed the courtyard, you noticed black, and gray, and cloudy crystal inlaid into the ground in a shape reminiscent of a compass rose, decorated with silvery wire knotwork in bird and serpent shapes.

There were troughs and niches being carved into the ground that looked to you like they were meant to be flower beds...eventually. You had seen no dirt here yet, no grass or growing things at all. Maybe once you finally got outside. But for now, it felt as if you had left a building, only to exit into another building, that was in turn, within another building.

It was a bit suffocating.

Loki led you across several courtyards, each with a different pattern inlaid into their bare floor, and through vaulted hallways that still contained no windows. Many of these hallways intersected in large, circular domes, and few of them had any distinctive markings. Soon you were completely lost. With any luck, you would be able to get your hands on some paper, and create a map-otherwise, any escape attempts would be doomed from the word go.

But maybe that was the point.

Your staggering steps echoed down a particularly tall and wide hallway, almost completely devoid of people. You were almost at the end of your physical capabilities, and while there were places to sit, you felt like you must be close to your destination. You really wanted to be in a room whose dimensions you could be certain of. A space you could comprehend.

Loki brought you to a stop in front of a pair of carved wooden doors. As the first piece of architecture you had seen here that was something other than stone, you found them more beautiful than anything you'd seen all day. They were something almost normal, almost like something you would have at home. If you were insanely rich, or your dad was a carpenter or something. They were a warm terra-cotta color, carved with a dizzying array of knotwork, framed with blackened, riveted iron. The handles were iron serpents.

“We imported some things from your homeland. This redwood lumber is one such thing. From what I hear, these trees are emblematic of your country.”

“Er...” How to politely say, 'not really, even though most people who live there do know what a redwood is'. They weren't very important to anyone who didn't live near where they grew. They weren't what you would call 'quintessentially American'. There wasn't anything you could really call that. The place was just too damn big.

“We couldn't bring too much, not yet anyway.” He continued. “It is expensive, unfortunately, and we only have one ship. It can only carry so much, and it takes about three days to transport. Things are moving slowly, but our construction projects are moving along speedily. There's little else to do right now, save build.”

He opened the doors for you, and led you into a fairy tale.

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 3 years

Note

So, since you haven't done the four headcanon thing for Edward yet. *ahem.*

INDEED.

Going to reply in four separate parts, since these are shaping up to be at least as long as the four Gordon headcanon answers.

I mean, really you even got five separate answers, since yesterday’s post was very much “let’s toss all this out there now, to give relevant background for this ask game.”

I dunno... just as I can’t seem to possibly separate Gordon, Diesel, or BoCo from mainland engine sociology, I can’t separate Edward from North Western history. It’s all bound up together.

A. realistic:

This might be a bit too realistic, in some ways. Buckle up.

Even when we allow for our RWS engines to each stand-in for approximately 3 engines… the books seem to suggest a significant slow-down in building the fleet between Percy’s arrival (circa 1930) and Toby’s arrival (circa 1950). (Remember, FC1 put up considerable resistance to acquiring a number six at all… suggesting that they really couldn’t afford another engine.)

This makes sense—the depressed 30s, and perforce the war-torn 40s, were a period of survival, not expansion.

Henry, Gordon, and James represent a period of upgrading/modernization, but since 1925 our favorite railway seems to be stuck with an increasingly underpowered fleet.

That brings us to WWII—that conspicuous black hole in RWS history.

Just like in WWI, we know British railways had to take on tons of extra “defense work.” (Man, if the big three thought the absence of a station pilot was leaving them overtaxed, I shudder to think what they thought of war work! Which James, at least, had experienced before. But Gordon and Henry were about to have their damn jaws dropped. Engines were worked hard during both wars.)

Anyway, the N.W.R. seems to have spent 1923-1948 using Edward as a spare engine to cover whatever needs done on the Brendam line or the main line. The latter was already a bit questionable—but now they’re about to get hit with a ton of war orders.

I’m sure, from the point of view of their War Office overlord, the solution to the N.W.R.’s struggles to keep up with their orders was obvious. “Yeah, we get it. Look, we’ll lend you an engine. Something with route availability, but much stronger than the Victorian relic you’re trying to use as a main line freighter right now.”

But this would be a replacement, not an addition. It’s extremely hard to find sufficient footplatemen during this period. The N.W.R. isn’t going to be able to man an extra engine, and the War Office has no interest in helping to keep Edward in service when they can just supply an engine that they assume can do twice his work.

By 1940 FC1 would feel that he has to give in and accept this arrangement. He has no desire to replace Edward permanently, but there seems to be no other option so long as the war orders are coming in thick and heavy.

Edward hears FC1’s orders to prepare to go into store until the war is over and is just No. Absolutely not.

FC1 has forgotten that Edward knows how to pronounce the word “no,” but he’s about to get re-schooled in one hell of a hurry, as Edward quietly but firmly informs him that this is unacceptable and that FC1 is just going to have to come up with a different solution. If FC1 finds him unsatisfactory then he can scrap him… but Edward is not going into store.

FC1 is shocked… well, more like gobsmacked.

Then, frustrated. Because he’s always taken considerable pains to try and keep Edward safe, and it seems to him that the engine is not listening to reason.

Hearing the scrapping ultimatum, FC1… might have snapped at Edward to not be melodramatic.

Excuse me. MELODRAMATIC?

Voices on both sides get even a bit louder and louder from there.

Other engines on site quickly take notice, and are just stunned. Did they just hear Edward raise his voice to the Fat Controller? Are they… arguing??

The answer is yes, and yes. Frankly, the shouting match quickly goes from “wow, look at that” to “low-key terrifying” as far as the rest are concerned. This is another instance of their world being turned upside-down by the war.

Anyway, Edward is not being melodramatic. All his family, and virtually every engine he ever knew on his old railway, have already been scrapped. He will not object to at last following where they have gone, if that’s what has to happen—at any rate, scrap metal is desperately needed for the war effort just then. But he is not about to spend the war idle, only to show his face again after everyone else had done their part. Assuming he is ever retrieved from storage, which Edward (not unreasonably) doubts very much would happen. It’s obvious that the war will take years, while it’s not at all obvious that Britain will win, and anyway engines as out-of-date as him are sometimes returned to service because of a war… not after. It doesn’t work that way and he knows it.

And all this is on top of the simple fact that “not being left alone in the cold and dark ever again” has been the motivating force behind pretty much every single one of his actions since the last time this went down.

So, though usually so sensitive to approval or disapproval, Edward is remarkably cool after FC1 storms off in anger, and goes about the rest of his shift with a grim coolness, refusing to satisfy anyone’s curiosity, while around him semi-terrified gossip just… rages.

He said his piece. Anyway, having made himself clear, he has a fair amount of faith that FC1 couldn’t do that to him.

Indeed, the N.W.R. never accepts the offer of a loaned mid-sized mixed-traffic engine. Edward spends the next seven years functioning as a power class 3F even though that really shouldn’t be possible on such a prolonged basis, but when has “mechanical reality” ever stopped him?

And he and FC1 never mention that day again.

#it does slow him down considerably by the end of the decade #but that's another (canon) story #the railway series #ttte edward #the fat controller #ttte #ttte headcanon #edward ask headcanon #chatter #okay off to go try to do some crappy meme editing for tomorrow's Part B #;)

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