#//i figured someone whapped him over the head with something

[honorhearted]

@voxvulgi

The Grey Whale Tavern was filled with the sounds of merriment that evening. While Ben attempted to keep to himself in the far corner, tucked away and with a book in hand, several men were gathered together around a piano and loudly -- not to mention, obnoxiously -- singing "The Rebels" in out of tune harmony.

Come take up your glasses, each true loyal heart,

And may every rebel meet his due dessert,

With their hunting-shirts, and rifle guns.

Despite his ruse, Ben couldn't resist a brief lip curl. It was easy enough to feign support amongst loyalists -- some of his own friends were in support of the king, after all -- but every now and then, he felt a fiery, knee-jerk reaction to impugn their misguided opinions, their lies propagated in spaces much like this one. They were being taken advantage of...couldn't they see that?

Tamping down his urge to make a choice remark, Ben gave a startled jerk once he realized someone else had spoken the words he wished to express. An angry rebel sympathizer emerged from the crowd, shouting drunken oaths and waving his fists. Within moments, the room was overcome by a whirlwind of punches and jabs, and Ben leapt to his feet just as the fighting tore toward him like a great storm. Somehow amidst the fray, one drunken fool seemed to believe Ben had been the one who struck him, so the man lashed out with sloppy smacks and punches.

Ben was all too quick to defend himself. A part of him was glad to strike out at this stranger, though he would never admit as such, and when someone walloped him against the head from behind, his form of release became terribly short-lived. His vision pitched and wavered, and then he dropped to his knees before painting out in a sea of black.

--

When Ben awoke again, the back of his head was throbbing in a painful thrum-thrum-thrum. Lashes fluttering, he groaned and then slowly opened his eyes, bemused as his double vision shivered, wobbled, and then formed into the face of one man.

On impulse, Ben lurched up and scrabbled backwards, only to immediately regret it once his head started to spin. "W-where...? Who...?" he croaked. Blinking the fog from his eyes, he looked around and realized he was still in the tavern, but that most everyone else had departed. Perhaps the tavern owner had kicked out the troublemakers after the brawl?

Swallowing back his nausea, Ben exhaled and pressed a hand to the back of his head, only to wince once he drew it back down and discovered a bloom of red across his palm. "What happened?" he asked the man. It took him a moment to realize he recognized him -- he was the one playing the piano that incited the whole damnable incident.

[radioromantic-moved]

drabblecember: going shopping

"okay this one won't be 700 words i'll keep it short" you were lying to yourself the whole time you bitch. anyway inspired by me going to snowport in boston and thinking that would be nice to do with a partner

Moss watches as Nyx rings up their purchase and takes the bag from the cashier, waving them goodbye as they exit the little stall. “That’s my gift for the holiday party done!” they announce happily, peering inside the bag. “Gotta say, I’m really glad we all just did one of those swap things this year, because I love all you guys but it is so hard to keep track of everyone’s holidays. I had a whole list tracking who was celebrating what and when, but this is way easier.”

“I sort of find it fascinating,” says Moss. “It’s nice to learn about the myths and traditions of monsterkind and the ways they’ve changed over the years. Not to mention the undead who celebrate the human holidays they did when they were alive. From a cultural perspective--”

Nyx whaps him with a wing. “Yeah, culturally, sure, but you know what I meant. I’m not spending hundreds of dollars on presents for every single monster I know just to find out I missed half of their special days by a week! Plus, what if I forgot someone entirely? I wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt. This is much more manageable.”

They pat their bag fondly. “It’s nice spending time with you, though. And shopping is kind of fun when it’s all fancy like this.”

The Solstice Market bustles with monsters of all shapes and sizes getting their holiday shopping done. Twinkling lights are strewn across stalls and booths advertising everything from handmade pottery to talismans pulsing with dark energy (“a perfect gift for that special nemesis in your life!” the lich lady running the stall claims.)

The winter air is bitingly cold, but Moss and Nyx are better suited to it than most. The latter breathes out a tiny orb of fire and lets it hover in front of their face. “That’s nice,” they murmur, then warn, “Don’t touch it.”

Moss rolls their eyes. “I wasn’t going to.”

“That’s what you said every other time.”

Moss grumbles, then deftly changes the subject. “I know you’re finished shopping, but what about one more stop before we go?”

He reaches out a wing to indicate the books on display a few stalls down. 

Nyx’s tail starts to wag. They grunt and drag it through the snow. “Ack, no, I already have enough books and if I look I’m just gonna find more stuff I want to read. My list is long enough already.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to look?”

Nyx does a bad job of hiding the fact that they very much want to look. “OKAY FIFTEEN MINUTES. And then you have to drag me out. Heh. Wait. You’ll be dragon me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Polly’s are worse.”

 Nyx approaches every bookseller with the same delight and reverence, and Moss never gets tired of seeing it. (He also never gets tired of hearing their thoughts on their favorite new releases and which authors couldn’t write their way out of a paper bag, but of course they most prefer it when their interests overlap.) He flips through a couple of celebrity memoirs and admires the covers of a few mystery novels for what he figures amounts to fifteen minutes, then wanders over to the science fiction/horror shelf and taps Nyx on the shoulder.

They jump. “Damn, that fast? Rrrgh. Okay, I’m stepping away now.” 

They pause to look longingly at the book they were holding before making their way back to where they came. “Anywhere else you wanna go?”

“Hmmm. No, I think we’re--” Moss pats their pockets down. “Oh, wait, I think I might have left something in that last booth. Could you go and check? I’ll catch up.”

“Sure! Um, what’d you leave?”

“A…pen.”

“A pen? It it, like, important or something?”

“Yes, sure, it’s a special pen, go look for it. But not too special! So if you don’t find it don’t worry about it! Just go over there for a few minutes.”

Nyx nods their head, slowly, in the manner of someone who is definitely humoring someone else. “Sure. I’ll go look for your pen. Meet you at the entrance.”

“Will do.”

They stuff their hands in their pockets and turn around. They probably know what he’s planning--they’re not stupid by any means--but he is allowed a sappy gesture for their partner during the wintertime. They’re sure Nyx would agree.

Moss takes the book off the shelf and goes to ring it up at the cash register. 

Actually, first they turn around and grab one of those mystery novels. Because they deserve an extra present too.

[phantomrose96]

Fenton Fact

Danny leaned back against the red brick chimney of the Casper High roof, and he looked across the stretch of land rolling far off from the building top. For a place so off-limits, so hidden-away from the normal bustle of the school, the view really wasn’t anything special. Sure, the school was decently tall, but it overlooked the staff parking lot, and the empty Casper High tennis courts, and the back of a strip mall two blocks over with the recently-haunted laundromat.

Not that it mattered. It took more than tall-building-views to impress Danny anyway, even the nice ones. And he wasn’t up here for the view.

Danny let his eyes drift shut.

“Sup loner, room for one more?”

Danny startled, and it wasn’t Sam’s voice specifically that startled him. (He’d grown used to her bursting from his Fenton Phone earpiece during most nightly patrols.) He’d just lulled himself a bit too comfortably into the idea that no other human could follow him to the top of the locked rooftop of the Casper High building.

“Did I just surprise a ghost?” Sam asked. “Should I do it again with a ‘boo’?”

“Haha,” Danny answered with a fake chuckle. He blinked himself back to prickly awareness, drowsiness batted away like dust bunnies, and stared up at Sam. “I’m not surprised. I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be on the roof. How did you even—”

Sam was a few steps ahead of him. In explanation, she waggled the Fenton-branded grappling hook gripped in hand.

Danny leaned back with a faux-exasperated sigh. “Since when do you even have a grappling hook?”

“Since I told your mom it would be a wildly cool line of gear to add to the Fenton brand.”

“Does this mean my mom now has a grappling hook too?”

“Yes. And your dad. And Jazz. And Tucker.”

“Great. When I go home and all the ceiling fans are torn down I’ll know why.”

A gentle silence lapsed over them, punctuated with the swell of fall wind.

“So…” Sam continued. “Can I sit here?”

“Huh?” Danny looked at her, anchoring his drifting thoughts once more. “Oh, yeah. I thought the ‘yeah’ was implied.” Danny shuffled a bit to the side, back still resting against the chimney. He patted the spot he cleared. “What am I gonna tell you? No?”

“Just making sure.” Sam stowed the grappling hook to the side of her belt and settled into the spot beside Danny, feet outstretched. “In case maybe you wanted some alone time.”

“’Alone time’ isn’t really something I get anymore. I’ve had about a hundred-too-many ghosts crash through my bedroom for that.”

“So why the roof?”

“Roof is more for uh…” Danny twirled his hand, “‘less adoring crowds’ time. ‘Less classmates ogling me’ time. You can stay so long as you don’t ask me to sign anything.”

“I was never interested in the parasocial or capitalistic value of celebrity signatures. Besides, you cross your ‘t’s weird.”

Danny replied with a half-hearted chuckle. His line of sight drifted into the middle-distance again, unfocused.

“Is it getting to be too much?” Sam asked.

“Hmm?” Danny answered, eyes shifting back to her.

Sam gestured broadly, hands and arms outstretched. “You know just. All this. Everything.”

“…Nah.”

Another small silence grew from the cracks in the concrete between them.

“Paulina and Star are looking for you. You know that, right?”

“Oh, are they?”

“Danny. You knew that.”

“Maybe.”

“…And you’re not interested in seeing what they want?”

“I figure Tucker is keeping them busy.”

“You’re unfortunately right.”

“Phantom Phacts?”

“Phantom Phacts.” Sam nodded. “I made him promise to leave out any embarrassing trivia from the trivia section.”

“Thanks for that,” Danny answered. “Is his presentation any good?”

“You think I’ve ever stuck around to hear it?”

“Fair.”

Sam pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs and set her chin to her knees, staring forward.

“You’re really not interested in sitting with Star and Paulina for lunch?”

“Not really. Why? Is that bad?”

“No, it’s absolutely great. But I’m…” Sam shrugged, “surprised, I guess. I feel like usually you’d jump at the opportunity. And I kinda don’t think you’re refusing because you’ve suddenly recognized the banality of A-lister status.”

“Maybe that is what happened, you don’t know that. Down with capitalism, Sam.”

“Danny.” Sam tilted a fraction to face him. “I’m worried that this is all too much for you, and you just won’t admit it.”

Danny sat with the silence that followed. “I don’t think it’s too much. I’m just—I dunno. I mean. I’m just not feeling it.”

“…You can admit if it’s overwhelming, Danny. I’ll be the first to shut down ‘Phantom Phacts’ if it is.”

“Nah, nah let Tucker have his fun. He’s not the problem. It’s… I dunno.” Danny pushed himself taller against the chimney, upright now and unslumped. “It’s a little bit overwhelming, I guess, maybe. But it’s kind of what I expected. Maybe even a little easier than I was expecting. I thought I’d be dealing with a lot of Phantom-hate once everyone knew but, I guess that kind of died down a long time before everyone knew.”

“Valerie holding you at gunpoint in the cafeteria wasn’t Phantom-hate?”

“We’ve had a lot of good talks since then, okay?”

Sam let out a quiet laugh. “So then… why aren’t you sitting with the popular kids right now?”

“I just didn’t want to, I guess?”

“And why didn’t you want to?”

“It just didn’t really feel right.”

“Is it because of me?” Sam asked, another side-long glance cast to Danny. “Because you can sit with them. I’ll still make fun of you if you do, but you don’t have to… not sit with them because of me.”

“What? Huh—no. Nah, nah I mean I do care what you think Sam. But I mean if I wanted to be sitting with them then I would so. I mean. You don’t have to worry that it’s you.”

“So then what is it?”

Danny took a moment to answer.

“It’s just… it’s a feeling. I dunno. Like.” Danny spread his arms out. “The invitation is wrong? Or the invitation isn’t actually for me?”

“…The invitation is for Phantom instead?”

Pensive indecision set into Danny’s eyes. “That’s not totally it. Because I mean I AM Phantom. I’m not not me when I’m Phantom. Maybe I trash-talk a little more in ghost form but I’m not… not me. That’s still just me. You know that.”

“Right, yeah, no Danny. It just sounded like that’s what you were saying.” Sam let her legs slide out a few inches. “So what are you saying?”

Danny sat with the question. “When the news first picked up on Phantom, way back when—Inviso-Bill?—that wasn’t really anyone, you know? They made up some spooky icon to make the news about. Which was just like, whatever, not me. I didn’t even take ‘Inviso-Bill’ too personally because that just wasn’t me. And even when I stopped being an enemy and started actually being ‘Danny Phantom’… no one actually got it right, you know? They kind of came up with a character for me. Just some hero. I listen to the news and how they talk about me and I think, even now, I think ‘That isn’t me.’”

Danny pulled his knees in, a mirror to Sam, and stared down into his tattered jean fabric. “And when everyone learned I’m Phantom I guess I kind of expected them to be like ‘Oh it’s Fenton’ and then that fake version of Phantom would go away.” Danny raised his eyes to Sam, far more bothered than before. “…I think the opposite happened. They don’t look at Phantom and think ‘oh it’s Fenton’. They look at Fenton and think ‘oh it’s Phantom.’ I think Danny Fenton got put away. I think the person I was for 14 years doesn’t exist to them anymore. Whoever they invited to lunch isn’t me. He doesn’t exist. But I’m suddenly responsible for him. And it’s not even me.”

Danny paused. “And now I’ve been wondering like… how long until I disappoint them? You know? How long until I do something that makes them angry because I’m not doing the thing they expect ‘Phantom’ to do? How long until they start seeing there’s too much ‘Fenton’ in me and they start to hate me for it all over again? For them to really like me, I don’t think I can be me, and I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to be someone who doesn’t just disappoint everyone in the end.”

A long gust of wind swept between them, stealing away the seconds.

“…So now you’re hiding on the roof.”

“It was the easiest solution to my problem.”

“But not a lasting one, if you ever want to get down.” The wind settled, and Sam swept a lock of hair behind her ear. “…Do you care if you disappoint them?”

Danny shrugged. “I. Yeah. I think. I don’t—I don’t think I totally know for certain, but I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“Well, you’re not going to disappoint me, or Jazz, or Tucker—and if Tucker does act disappointed over any lost Phantom Phacts ventures I’ll whap him over the head. But I mean, we know who you are. We’re not going to be disappointed realizing you’re not ‘Phantom.’ The worst you can do is land right back where you started.”

“And what if I started acting like ‘Phantom’ instead. Would that disappoint you guys?”

“Do you want to act like ‘Phantom’?”

Danny paused. “…No. Not at all.”

“Then don’t. It’s that simple.” Sam stood, and she stretched until her back popped. “It’s not your responsibility to uphold whatever delusions people project onto you. I won’t hesitate to call them out on it. You know I’m good at being direct, and you know I’m even better at making enemies.”

“I don’t wanna be mean to them though when they’re finally being nice.”

“They’re not being nice, they’re projecting. If their niceness to you is conditional on you fitting to the box they created for you, that’s not nice, that’s manipulation, and it’s exactly the root of my ever-frothing disdain for popularity. It’s always some element about popular people that people latch on to, and they can fit the box that people give them, or they can reject it and find themselves wallowing amongst us outcasts. Don’t do that to yourself, Danny. Don’t live in their chains.” Sam tilted her head to Danny. “You spend all day trapping ghosts into tight little boxes and you can’t even recognize when it’s happening to you. I think you’d be better at spotting this.”

“It’s a cylinder, really. The thermos. It’s a cylinder. And don’t say ‘box’ so much. You might summon company.”

“You just said ‘box’ though.”

“I did say ‘box’.”

“Box.”

“Box.”

Sam laughed, noise trailing light on her lips. “…Feeling any better?”

“A little, I think… I still… I still think I... it's not as easy to just say 'I don't care if I disappoint them.' It's still scary. I don’t want to end up proving them right that they were right to hate me all along.”

“Are the opinions of Dash Baxter really the ones to be holding on a pedestal? Is his opinion of you really more important than what you think of yourself? You’ve been through this with the A-listers already. Don’t torture yourself again just because the door is wide open. I promise you Danny, it won’t make you happy.”

“So I should just do whatever makes me happy?”

“Every time.” Sam nodded.

"Even if I'm a total disappointing loser?"

"All the better."

"Even if I blow any chance I have with Paulina out the window?"

“Wouldn't have it any other way. Got any idea what you intend to say to her when she finds you?”

Danny paused. He pushed himself standing. “Maybe I could talk her ear off about NASA until she gets bored of me?”

“Excellent. Can I join? I have a lot to say about SpaceX and private capital encroaching on space exploration.”

“Does that apply to me? I’ve been to space. Am I private capital?”

“You’re not private capital.”

“Then what am I?”

“Annoying.” Sam locked arms with Danny, and dragged him along forward, her combat boots clunking against the rooftop. “And my friend. Come on. I’ll brief you on everything wrong with privately-owned space exploration while we’re rappelling down the side of the building with my sick and cool as hell grappling hook.”

“I can fly.”

“And I have a sick grappling hook. What’s your point.”

“It’s probably called a ‘Fenton Hook.’”

“Is that a Phantom Phact?”

Danny shook his head, and a smile pulled on his lips. “Nah. I think it’s a Fenton Fact.”

[ladydaemon]

hello!! can i have a Genderqueer!reader (amab, afab, other, or not mentioned at all, i don't mind!), who comes out to Nikolai (my beloved). Nikolai then wears a skirt to support his partner (and is kinda insecure about it at first but you know what, he ends up enjoying the skirt).

also, also, fluffy hurt/comfort plssss. and you can definitely change some things about the request I gave you! :)))

A/N: So I did change the request a bit (reader is already out) because I have absolutely no fucking clue as to how to write that – y'all don't seem to realize that I'm closeted as fuck offline. And the bullying in this is so cliché I hate it with a burning passion. HAPPY PRIDE MONTH Y'ALL.

Summary: Prince Nikolai notices that Y/N is being harassed for being genderqueer, and makes a statement about it.

Warnings: swearing, homophobia, transphobia????, comfort/fluff type shit with a sprinkle of angst, KoS? and R&R spoilers, I might've accidentally used she/her pronouns for reader on accident, please tell me if I did

Y/D/N = your deadname

Y/N saw the way they looked at them. Like they were something other and unnatural and strange. Some wanted to understand, wanted to accept, and Y/N appreciated that – but then there were the others, the ones who refused to call them anything but their deadname, who jeered and pointed.

Nikolai didn't know, of course. Y/N didn't want to put anything else on the new king's plate, least of all some measly bullying that they could handle perfectly well on their own. Nikolai was busy with his meeting and his negotiations, and he shouldn't be bothered by someone teasing a cook.

Even if said cook was his childhood friend since before either of them could remember.

"Y/N, I swear on all the Saints, if you burn those damn cookies because you're having a pity party, I'm telling Prince Nikolai about Ameer and his cronies," Selene threatened, brushing past Y/N on her way to the pantry. "Don't think I won't do it."

Ameer was one of the worst when it came to insults and slurs – the one who always managed to corner them and taunt, spread rumors and gossip. He was an Inferni, and one of the best, which was why most of the Grisha turned a blind eye. Selene (who had been a mother figure to Y/N and had taught them how to cook and bake) knew about him, and what he said, but held her tongue when Y/N had begged her not to tell Nikolai.

It didn't mean Selene was happy about it.

Y/N sighed, turning back to their cookies to see that they had, in fact, almost burned them. With a yelp, they rescued them from the oven and scraped the small pastries off of the bottom of the pan so they wouldn't burn, exhaling in relief when they saw that the bottoms weren't black. Thank the Saints.

"They're supposed to be soft," Selene hissed, prodding one with a finger to prove that the cookies were flaky and not how they should be. The woman seemed to materialize whenever anything was ever cooked or baked wrong. "Make another batch."

"There aren't any more fresh berries, though. We can't use the dry ones, they'll burn," Y/N said sourly, scraping the ruined pastries in the trash bin. "Nikolai's having one of the fancy parties and they'll know if the berries are fresh or not."

"Then go to the market and get some more, child!" Selene whapped them in the back of the head with a wooden spoon. "Common sense! And get me some more of the chocolate morsels, we're running low."

Y/N nodded, well used to the brisk woman, exiting the large kitchen bumbling and bustling with movement and steam and smells. They used the servant's exit, ducking under the small door and exiting Os Alta through the back gate, a well-known shortcut to the market at the village.

After a quick walk, Y/N arrived at the farmer's market – the stand with the raspberries was blissfully empty, and they paid quickly, heaving a small basket of the berries into their arms. They were about to stand in line for the rare chocolates (which, in the palace, were not so rare), when they felt someone shove them.

Someone cheered.

The raspberries spilled into the dirt.

"I am so sorry, Y/D/N," a voice that Y/N knew far too well, dripping in fake sincerity. "Do you need help with those?"

"I'm fine," Y/N answered, response short and clipped and in a tone that suggested the conversation was over before it began. They didn't look at Ameer, only began slowly picking the fruit out of the dirt path. Their uniform, pristinely white (a fact they usually prided themselves on) suddenly felt incredibly dirty and raggedy compared to Ameer's brilliant blue kefta.

Ameer did not take the hint. Nor did his cronies.

"Come on, Y/D/N, let me help!"

"Yeah, let him help!"

"I'm fine," Y/N hissed, still crouched on the ground. They just wanted Ameer to go away – they wouldn't even fight back, or do anything. If only he would go away. They knew well enough that saying anything only told him that he was winning.

"Aw, come on, it's the least I could do for a mistake," Ameer snickered, nudging them with his boot. "Come on, say something. I know you're ill in the head, but you can at least speak, can't you?"

"Go away, Ameer." Y/N's jaw clenched, and for some reason, their throat felt tight, like they were going to cry. Which was silly, because they should have been used to it. It happened every day, for Saint's sake.

It was probably just the dust and dirt in their eyes.

Ameer kicked them again in the ribs, sharply and Y/N's entire world narrowed down to that one point. Yeah, there had always been small things - pinches and the like - but he had never actually physically hurt them. They didn't notice when Ameer snickered and walked away.

Get yourself together, Y/N, they scolded themself, standing and brushing off their white uniform. You're better than some bullies.

Go with dignity. Don't fight back. Don't show weakness. Don't say anything.

~

"What took you so long?" Selene huffed, hurrying over to Y/N with a stern expression. "No, no, nevermind the food, the meeting is starting! Grab your platter and move, dammit!"

Thank the Saints that Y/N had had the good sense to brush off their uniform. They grabbed the first available platter (they had to be the exact type of pastry they were trying to make) and lined up with the rest to enter the war room. Then, the cooks and the waiters filed into the large room, person by person with unfaltering steps.

Y/N almost dropped the tray they were carrying.

Everything was pretty much as usual, with Nikolai lounging on a large chair at the head of the table and the missionaries seated around the rectangular table. Servants in white uniforms stood motionless and silent at the walls, ready to be called on for anything at any moment.

The catch was, however, that Nikolai was wearing an elegant, frilly, royal purple dress. Everyone in the room, except Nikolai, who looked utterly at ease, looked distinctly uncomfortable. Y/N, quickly recovering from their shock, placed the tray of pastries in front of him.

"Ah, thank you so very much, Y/N. Do you like my outfit?" Nikolai batted his eyelashes at them, and Y/N, in turn, glared daggers at him. "It's rather comfortable."

"What the fuck are you doing, Nik?" they hissed under their breath so only he could hear. "You could lose alliances over this and you know it, you shithead. How drunk are you?"

"I am perfectly sober, and am absolutely scandalized that you think I would go into an official business meeting while not."

He had, actually. Twice.

Y/N glared harder at him, trying to burn a hole into his skull while mentally projecting a large string of curses in various different languages. But there was only so long they could loiter by his seat as a servant before it became either suspiciously awkward or a wildfire of a rumor, so they stepped back, standing against the wall.

It was about half an hour into the meeting that Y/N realized that he was doing this because of them. Because they hadn't told him what was going on, but he had the audacity to do his sleuthing and guess. It really didn't take a genius, when Y/N thought about it. Because he cared and he saw and he had done something about it.

It made Y/N want to punch him slightly less.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur or awkward coughing, a lot of shaking hands, and Nikolai rubbing his hands appreciatively over the fabric of his dress (and Y/N had to admit, he looked divine in it). And then the missionaries filed out and so did the other white-clad people until it was just Y/N and Nikolai.

"I wasn't lying when I said it was comfortable," Nikolai said teasingly, looking at Y/N. They huffed and plopped down in the seat closest to him, popping an a lone strawberry in their mouth. He looked at them for a second, eyebrow raised. "So are you actually going to tell me what happened, or…?"

"Just some teasing," Y/N mumbled around the mouthful of food. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Liar."

"Yep."

He sighed, picking up a discarded pastry and sticking it in his mouth. "These were delicious, by the way."

"Thanks. I'll make sure to pass that along to Selene."

He hummed, and they sat in silence for a while, the only sound being that of creaking chairs and faint chatter from outside the room. Nikolai turned toward her, his face a mixture of concern and seriousness. "I won't force you to talk about it, okay? Just… know I'm here."

Y/N exhaled slowly, and their voice was quiet. "Okay."

"Okay.' "I should get back to Selene, she's going to want help in the kitchen," Y/N said, standing up. As they brushed past Nikolai, their voice turned serious. "And by the way, the dress suits you."

He wore dresses for the rest of the week.

[haro-whumps]

Hey how do you think that would be a reverse version of GW? Like, instead of Galo getting the whumpees, the seven of them somehow, through a legal technicality, get a Galo that was Bethany's slave?How donyou think they'd all be, in this situation?

I would like to clarify that Galo and Bethany are NOT related in this version.

--

"... an old paramour," Greyson stated, hedging an explanation. Bethany had been, well, significantly too old for him, at the time. But he'd liked that.

Even so, he wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to disclose his past questionable relationships with his housemates.

"And what did she leave you, exactly?" Evan asked, wearing his joggers and leaning against the doorframe, Lilah dressed similarly and walking past him with a deep pull from her water bottle.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Greyson said, passing him the letter. Lilah propped her arm up on his shoulder, only to be dislodged as he propped his arm up on her head. The two leaned in and read the letter together, their faces screwing up at almost the exact same moment.

"Well that's cryptic," Lilah said, taking the page from Evan's hand and flipping it over, checking the blank back. She handed it back to Greyson, who nodded his assent.

"So my bet's on bird," Evan said, ganking Lilah's water bottle and finishing it off.

"Evan!" Nyla called from the other side of the house, "Have you sent me your portion of the mortgage yet?"

"I thought the point of buying a house was to get away from landlords," Evan muttered to Lilah, who snorted.

"Evan!"

"Doing that now!"

Sasha entered and gently shoed the athletes out. "I n-need to get st-started on dinner."

She placed her hand on Greyson's shoulder. "It'll be fine. Maybe it's j-just a dog?"

Greyson shrugged, sighing. He wondered why he'd even been IN the woman's will at all.

"N-now move. I'm cooking."

Greyson smiled playfully back, bumping his hip to Sasha's, and left. He found Nyla rifling through the rest of the mail.

"Are you sure that's all they sent you?"

"Unfortunately."

Nyla huffed, letting the letters smack against her skirt. "Why couldn't they have had a lawyer write to us or something? Anything to save a dime, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be preparing for!"

"We can run to a pet store the day it gets here. If not, a night in the garage won't kill it," Greyson assured. Also, wasn't HE supposed to be the one preparing? He set his hand on her shoulder. "You worry too much."

"I worry exactly the right amount, thank you," Nyla said, whapping him with the mail. As she walked towards her office, she called out, "Lilah, you'd better have put those in the hamper!"

"Does it bring you joy to endlessly nag?!"

"I live in a house with four other people!"

Greyson chuckled. He was also probably overthinking this. It was weird, and definitely unexpected, but it would all be fine.

--

That was a human person.

Tall, with choppily short hair, kneeling in their front entryway between Evan and Lilah's running shoes and the narrow side table Nyla used for mail and key rings.

That was a human person.

They all looked to each other, wondering what to do, and this was technically Greyson's problem, which meant he was the one who should do something about this. Why. Why this. Why him?!?!

When it became undeniably obvious that the other four were waiting on him and the silence was stiflingly uncomfortable, Greyson cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"Hello?" He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question.

"Hello master," the slave returned, skirt fisted with shaking knuckles.

"I am Greyson," he cleared his throat again, "What's your name?"

"...Galo."

Oh Greyson was so out of his depth.

"So uh, you're Bethany's pet? Ex pet?" Evan asked, and Greyson was relieved someone else had said something.

"Yes master."

"This is weird," Lilah stated, shifting anxiously from foot to foot with jittery energy. "This is fucking weird. Why did your ex girlfriend give you a slave? Why were you dating someone who likes slavery?! Greyson what the fuck!"

"Okay deep breaths!" Nyla ordered loudly, everyone complying instantly. "This is. Unexpected," she agreed. "But let's not get out of hand. Galo, sweetie, would you please stand up?"

"Yes mistress."

"You don't need to call anyone master or mistress."

"Ma'am?"

"Ma'am is fine. Let's get you settled in. You can probably stay in Sasha's room at the moment, who'll sleep with me?"

Sasha nodded.

"Okay, good. Are these all of your belongings?" Nyla asked, gesturing at Galo's duffle bag, who nodded again.

"Okay, great. This way."

Greyson was so, so grateful to know Nyla. So glad she was in his life. Her competence was unparalleled.

"I-I'm going to make d-dinner."

--

Galo followed his mistress, who he wasn't going to call mistress, to a baby blue room with impressionist paintings hung from the walls, leaned up against each other, stacked against the desk and dresser. Canvases were just about everywhere, but it didn't seem messy. Just full.

"This is Sasha's room but you can stay here until we figure all this out. Oh! My name is Nyla, sorry, I spaced on that, we'll get you introduced to everyone properly once... once we settle down."

Galo bowed, hand crossed over his chest.

"This is just a little unexpected. We hadn't known you were--human."

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"No, no, no need to apologize. Just some information lost in the pipeline. Why don't you settle in and... we'll chat more at supper."

His mistress left, closing the door behind her, and Galo was left standing in the center of a room that wasn't his.

He took a shaky breath. Well. They'd accepted his name, at least, which was nice. Maybe someday he'd tell them about... him being a man. Maybe. Definitely going to wait and see on that one, he wasn't interested in a repeat of what had happened last time he'd told an owner he was a man.

There were five of them.

Galo sank to his knees, duffle bag hitting the floor, his hands covering his mouth. There were five of them.

He was a fairly gigantic failure at keeping one owner off his back, how was he ever going to please five?!? And the little one had been so angry with his presence--he would have to show his gratitude to Mistress Nyla, later, for stepping in.

Oh god, what would they use him for? This house was no estate--maybe they would just have him clean. Yeah, maybe, maybe he could just clean for them and stick to the shadows and he would be ignored.

A hysteric peal of laughter bubbled out of him.

Ignored.

Yeah, right.

--

But for some reason, that... did seem to be the case. They ignored him. Mistress Sasha and Master Evan especially seemed to have no idea what to do with him, and would awkwardly prompt him to leave them alone if he guessed their routines wrong and ended up in the same room as them.

Master Greyson made earnest attempts to speak with him, which Galo responded to as best he could. But the conversations were stilted things. The most successful ones hinged around Mistress Bethany, and Galo always found himself stressed and exhausted after talking about her.

Mistress Lilah seemed to find him a curiosity, asking him questions and prodding him into helping her with her "Influencer Gig," which mostly involved holding light sources or cameras for her. She would occasionally do up Galo's hair and makeup, and Galo tried very, very hard not to show how miserable that made him. To smile and be grateful and not waste her product and time with babyish tears.

Mistress Nyla was his favorite. She had him help with the household chores and spoke kindly to him. She would praise and sometimes touch him. Conversations with her were... trickier, though.

Mistress Nyla has a very good memory. She would ask questions, know things he'd told Master Greyson or Mistress Lilah, gently pull his life's story from him. She would sometimes make him ask uncomfortable questions about himself, too, about his place as a slave, which--he knew better. He knew better!

She would stop, when he started shaking, though. Ask him to please go clean the kitchen or bathroom or fold laundry. It made him feel weak. A useless, manipulative slave who cried to get out of situations he didn't like.

"It's okay, Galo," she sometimes murmured, petting his hair and letting him kneel at her feet with his head in her lap. "You're being good for us. It's alright sweetie."

--

Master Evan didn't like talking to Galo. So he knew better. But one day, a couple friends of Master Evan's had come and gone, and one of them--

Not that Galo wanted to assume, or presume, but she'd. She had looked.

"Yeah, she's trans," Master Evan confirmed, looking desperately uncomfortable. Galo would find a way to apologize later. He just. He had to. He.

"And that's okay?" he blurted gracelessly, instinctively flinching back for two reasons.

"Yeah? I mean, yes, absolutely, I respect and support her 100%."

Galo fidgeted with his skirt, something Mistress Bethany had bought that he wanted little more than to burn.

"Are... do you, wanna tell me something?" Master Evan asked, also not making eye contact. "Or, maybe tell Nyla something, since I dunno if I'm really the guy to, uh." He gestured at himself and Galo bit his lip.

"The others are also, okay with, uh?"

"Being trans. Yes. It's not bad... bro? We're all chill and respectful here. Oh you know Sasha? Sasha's like, super smart, and knows all about this stuff, she could talk to you about this?"

"Yes sir," Galo said, knowing he'd overstayed his welcome the moment he'd opened his mouth.

"Cool. Chill. Yeah. Okay then," Master Evan said, and left the room quickly.

--

That night Galo had found a pair of Master Evan's sweatpants and a couple of old t-shirts on his bed.

--

The next time Lilah pulled Galo to help with her Influencer Gig, she'd done his makeup and hair and he had cried, to see a man who looked like him staring back from the mirror.

--

Mistress Nyla took him shopping. She held his hand, both literally and metaphorically, with increasing frequency as he started to transition and actually began to feel like this new house was his home. That these people weren't going to hurt him, that they maybe even liked him. Almost.

--

Mistress Sasha had him help her move her remaining belongings from the blue room. His room. They were, officially and permanently, making her old room his. Her paintings were either hung up throughout the rest of the house or set into storage in the garage. He helped her carry whatever else was left into Mistress Nyla's--now hers and Mistress Sasha's--room and organize so Mistress Nyla didn't work herself into a fit over the clutter.

"Thank you," he said quietly, crouched in front of the dresser and slipping some of Mistress Sasha's less-used attire into the drawers.

"Hm?"

"For, giving me your space, ma'am." For everything. For all of it.

Mistress Sasha crossed over to him and sat in the floor where he was, opening her arms to him. He leaned in, slowly wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face to her shoulder.

"You're part of the f-family now," she said warmly. "Of c-course."

[yasuda-anis]

A Blessing for a Friend

One of my first released works for Anis, I wanted to give something to a friend of mine. To @writer-and-artist27​, Vy I’m glad to have met you and I love your stories. I hope we can keep being friends for a long time.

As for what I listened to while I wrote this it’s Wonderful Future or Prekasno Daleko. Just cause I really like it and the mood got me excited. May your future be bright.

The heavy smell of bread blew into Anis’ face, fogging her glasses in a few seconds. It seemed that despite all the enchantments that Medea and others had placed on them for protection and preventing them falling off, some things could just never be avoided.     Anis waited a few seconds for them to clear up, enjoying the rich scent of vanilla and almost drooling. But it was important that the last part be done right.

If she messed this up, the whole thing would lose more than half the impact. But the heat coming out of the oven was still intense enough that she hesitated reaching in, even with her gloves and apron.     “Need a hand there Master?” A cheerful voice called out behind her before a large heavy paw settled on her shoulder. It was a familiar feeling, but something she hadn’t felt for a while. 

“Thanks Tamamo,” Anis sighed as she stepped aside. “I’ve been out of the kitchen for a long time so-”     “No problem, no problem Master!” She grinned as her tail whapped her master gently. “I see you when you come to eat everyday so I do see you. But this is certainly something new.”

Back in the days of Chaldea… that was - never mind. When she had first arrived Tamamo had been there for her. Making sure she ate, making sure she had someone to talk to, and more importantly, being there for the warmth Anis had been missing. Back then, Anis would always stop by at least once a week to be with her- to talk, be pampered, spar, or just to get some motivation. It had been some time since Anis had come back to see her.     Cat had come to visit herself mainly. But that was enough of that.     “It’s a bit of a special occasion,” Anis confessed, breathing in the warmth from the tray Tamamo passed under her. “I really wanted to do something for her.”     The fresh pastry was then quickly flipped over into a small basket, the smell of vanilla a bit more muted now. Cat moved over to bring over the picnic basket and pack in plates, utensils and some drinks.     Anis put on her gloves- made out of materials she was sure a regular mage would kill her for- and reached into a small box to pull out small clay figurines. She then cut small holes into the pastry and inserted them, quickly closing up the holes with nata.     The figures had been a group effort between her, Medea, and Nito. Making them heat resistant and non toxic had been a bit trick, but according to Medea the materials were easy enough to come by.     “All ready here!” Tamamo saluted with feral glee. “Now! Quickly before that other cat burglar comes in!”     Anis had factored in anyone coming in to try and steal it. But even the best laid plans need to adapt quickly, she thought as she wrapped it up in cloth and shut it in the basket. But alas, the smell, however faint, still escaped the basket. She would have to hurry. Or else…

“I’m off then! I’ll be back later!” Aniis yelled as she started moving quickly to the door. She could run. But the chances she could trip weren’t her main concern. Gotta act natural. I have an important appointment! But too fast and they’ll catch on!

    Tamamo waved her away with a handkerchief, calling out all sorts of fun jokes at her. Anis waved back and went off the hallway.

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

The hallways of Novum Chaldea were packed. The early days of an empty Chaldea faded in the first months, and Anis was used to wandering both in her old Chaldea and in this one like a metro station.     Staff and servants moved in their flows- the main speed being kept except for a few who were assumed to just be beyond reprimand. Anis would normally be a patient walker, her pace easily adjusted to suit whoever she was walking with. Today though she wove and dashed through the flow, trying to minimize her impact by calling out warnings to those ahead.

Excuse me! 

Pardon me! 

Sorry! 

Hi! 

Sorry, a bit busy! 

No problem, just gotta go!

Not right now thanks!

Oops! You good? I’ll make it up to you later!

Sadly though, the kids had caught her. As she expected. The child servants were always on top of any delicious snacks and treats in the base before the other two threats of Jaguar, who would demand them, and Ibaraki, who would never bother to ask and just take it.     I lost 5 minutes to negotiations, but hopefully I can still make it on time! The kids had realized quickly what the occasion was, but demanded an equal treat and participation in one of their tea parties. Apparently, Mori was hosting this one as his first foray into western tea ceremony. 

But there it was! The door to Vy’s room! With one of her servants waiting out front as usual. Today it happened to be Emiya and Artoria, or Art as Vy called her. The pair had been chatting in front of the door before noting Anis, a bit winded, approached them.

“Hello there you two,” Anis panted, checking inside the basket to make sure nothing had spilled. “Is she back yet?”

Opening the basket had apparently been a mistake, since the culinary duo immediately caught onto what sort of treat Anis had brought and smiled. “She is not back yet, but if what you brought tastes as well as it smells I should believe my master will enjoy it,” Arotria smiled, her gentle gaze clearly showing her desire to try some as well.

“It’s been a while since I smelled something like this. Is that-” Emiya approached, starting to reach out to the basket.

Anis flinched back, covering the basket with her free hand. “Sorry about that, it’s best as a surprise ya know? Don’t worry though, it’s meant to be shared.”

Artoria nodded. “Indeed. You should learn to be patient like me. After all, Miss Anis has told us quite clearly it was meant as a surprise for all of us.”     A letter had gone out to Vy’s main servants last week, indicating that on her birthday, they should split into two teams- one to distract Vy, and one to stand guard and prepare the room. Anis had barely made it to the room before the deadline.

Anis held out the basket to Emiya, until he took it with both hands. “I’ll just leave this with yall then and head off after telling her-”

“Telling me what?” 

“YA!” Anis yelled and stomped her foot hard to prevent from accidentally swinging her elbow towards the voice. A very bad habit that had been the sad result of both martial arts training and poor nerves. 

“Eeep! I-I’m sorry Aqui! I didn’t mean to scare you like that…” Vy mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s been a while since we saw each other, so-”

Anis breathed out, trying to relax. “It’s fine- fine” Anis breathed out again, her heart rate returning to normal. “Happy birthday Vy.”

She said it in the gentlest tone she had. Because it was her. One of the kindest souls she’d ever met, and deserved all the respect and charity the world had in return. Even Anis’ servants would treat her kindly and take time to chat with her from time to time. 

“Thankie Aqui,” she smiled back in the way that had made her so warm to all she met. “What's that? It smells delicious~” “Hold on there little sparrow,” Robin grinned as he put a hand on her shoulder, earning a small pout from her. “I think we should all go inside and get the full surprise right?” Anis nodded, glad to not disappoint. “We came up with a nice little thing for you Vy!” Anis smiled, something she wasn’t too familiar with, but she was glad her tone at least matched the mood. “I wanted to give you something as thanks for what you’ve given me and others here. And sorry to say, I won’t take no for an answer.” “Muuuu. This better not be something too big Anis.” _________________________

It was a simple affair. Anis had simply planned to leave the gift after explaining, but Achilles and Emiya had forced her to take a seat at the table. Apparently, she had a responsibility to see it through to the end.     The cake sat at the center of the table- a Rosca de Reyes, a delicious pastry in the shape of a round loop topped with concha sugar in vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. There were also some fruits as well, but only on half of the cake since Anis didn’t care for them.

The main gift though was the act of cutting the cake, Anis explained. “See, this is technically a celebration cake that’s eaten either on christmas, or on the actual feast day in January,” Anis explained as she passed the knife to Vy on the opposite side of the table.

“Let me get that for you,” Robin said as he started to reach out for the knife only to have Anis give him the look she usually gave those who started deviating from the rules in board games.

“The main thing is cutting it, Robin, so she needs to choose what part she wants and cut it herself,” Anis explained, tapping the cake. “It’s not just a cake you know, it’s a game.”

Vy tilted her head and squinted at the cake. “A… game? Like, with rules?” 

“Not that kind of game,” Anis chuckled as she waited for Vy to grip the knife. “See, it’s about making choices and seeing if you get lucky.” Vy still looked a bit confused, but eventually started cutting into the Rosca, the rich smell leaking out with each cut.

Crshh!!

“W-what was that?!” Vy pulled the knife out and looked inside the cut. “Is there food inside too? But it was so hard?”

“Got one already?” Anis asked, a bit surprised at the game starting off so quickly. “I tried to mix up the placement, but with your good fortune it makes sense you’d hit it off on your first try. Make your next cut for now, okay? But only cut as much as you can eat.”

    So Vy, still a bit confused, cut again, and hit something she couldn’t cut again. The look on her face though was more of curiosity and interest though, which helped relax Anis a bit. She held out a small spatula and Robin took it to lift her piece out, pulling a bit hard to separate the piece, revealing-

“What the? Is that?” Robin asked, not entirely sure of what had just happened.The other servants were all mostly curious as well, leaning forward to see. 

A small blue bird’s head poked out from the left side of the slice, the rest of its body supposedly buried inside. On the right side though, was a small tile with a flower motif that fell onto the plate with a small clink.     Vy picked it up and looked it over. The small white ceramic tile was two sided- a lily on one side and a lotus on the other.

“Two prizes so far Vy! Congrats!” Anis clapped, excited to see the reactions of surprise. “The game is meant to be that each person has a chance to find a prize and get good luck! I kinda adjusted it though and just made plenty of small prizes so every one of y'all could get something. So please, go ahead and enjoy it.”

Vy and the other servants started to get excited and began to cut their own slices to find prizes. A large variety of small figures and decorated tiles came out- a miniature crystal horse, a golden chariot, a lion cub, a golden ram, even a miniature Fou! The cake wasa soon gone and the figures were gathered in front of the empty plates, with Vy enjoying the rising atmosphere.

She deserves it honestly. She’s been working hard to take care of so many people. I just gotta give back something. Anis knew how late Vy stayed up at times- both working and because of stress. She also knew from how Fujino treated her that there were obviously more details about her past that shouldn’t be approached. But the unconditional love her servants had for her… Honestly, it made her a bit jealous. But that was fine. She had her own servants she cared for and could rely on. And a fellow master who she could always count on to hear a lovely tune sung or performed. A wonderful flower that bloomed once in the ice and now again in the sea. 

Thank you for being born Vy. I’m glad to have been able to meet you. And more so that you could consider me a friend. May you overcome all your hardships, and keep  your kindness forever.

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Treasure of the Golden Sun: Three Ducks of the Condor or Now with More Racism!

Hello all you happy people! And welcome back to my look at Ducktales: Treasure of the Golden Suns!, the pilot episodes that started it all. This look was one of my patreon stretch goals. To explain them in case some of you aren’t familiar with patreon it’s essentially like a kickstarter stretch goal: every milestone I reach in my monthly earnings means a crop of reviews for you guys, with this being 10 and my review of the movie, and the goofy movies in two weeks and September respectively, being the 15 dollar one. So if you want reviews of the OTHER Ducktales mini series Time Is Money and Super DuckTales, then hop on aboard and help me reach my 20 dollar goal so I can keep making these reviews for a living and give you all more. Said goal also includes a Darkwing Duck review eveyr month AND a review of teh Danny Phantom special The ULtimate Enemy so hop on board HERE AT MY PATREON.  Patrons also get exclusive reviews, access to my discord server (Though if anyone would be more intrersted in me making that public let me know), and to pick a short each time I do a birthday special for a character from Looney Tunes, Disney and Beyond. And next month is my boy Donald’s so since you all already sat out goofy NOW is the time. 

So now my very necessary plug is out of the way, i’m very poor, we can get to the review proper:

When last we left off Scrooge and the Boys went on their first proper adventure together, heading to Central America to follow the map from the first episode and running into Dr.Claw  El Capitan and his new best buddy Glomgold. Mild racisim, moonsoons and much better pacing ensued. 

So join me under the cut as my boy Donald returns, some iconic characters are introduced in Webby, Launchpad and Beakly, though this series only made one of them iconic to be fair, and we get some more mild racisim because fuck my life. Onward to the cut! 

So yeah as I’ve mentioned a few times now this episode had a content warning.. which was fair as there is some pretty cringy stuff in here but it had the side effect of me holding my breath until the racisim came up and whapped me in the face. So i’m keeping that tension up for you guys so I don’t have to suffer alone. 

We open at the Mansion. Scrooge is trying to find a governess for the boys, but they keep scaring off all the clients because they don’t like the idea. And for once.. i’m on Scrooge’s side here. Yes I know there’s a sterotype of rich people hiring a nanny to not have to parent. and it’s sadly often true and it’d SEEM like Scrooge is doing that.. but really he just wants the boys to be safe. He’s fully grown to care for them and just wants someone cheap and responsible to look after them while he’s busy and clearly still makes time for them. As someone who is a former nanny, albeit for someone working class, I get that as much as you WANT to spend every moment with your kid you often can’t. I say all this because SO MANY kids movies and shows villianize parents for not spending time with their kid when their clearly just working to support them. There are nuanced exceptions to this and refreshingly Craig of the Creek has outright avoided this: JP’s mom is gone almost all the time due to working as an airline pilot, but while he clearly misses her he never resents her or guilts her over it, he understands sh’es supporting him and goes out of his way to make sure his friends can meet her. It’s really swee.t And while again I get it, this guys a billionare, most examples aren’t, Scrooge still really CAN’T stop working: He has more money than god and like most bilionares REALLY should give most of it to charity or to help with programs instead of hoarding it in a massive bin.. but he’s also got tons of companies, factories, investments... people COUNTING on him to make sure these are working correctly and keep their jobs. So yeah i’ts nice that the show isn’t demonizing scrooge for this or dosen’t even consider it: he’s getting help beacuse he needs it, that’s what’s important. 

So while the boys widdle down the nannies, Scrooge talks to a renowned coin collector. He does show off his collection to the guy, but his main goal is naturally to show him the coin from last time. Turns out that naturally for a five part episode the treasure they lost last time was just a fraction of the real thing and the real titular treasure is a mythical horde even Scrooge, who normally has proved something out of myth is very real 5 times before breakfast, didn’t think existed. 

Something I do love about this five parter is how every treasure hunt has ended up being important each piece of the puzzle leading to the next like any good treasure hunt. As for where this one leads the collector HAS heard of only one other coin like it, up in the Andes Mountains in a mysterious fortress whose mountain habitat and being a fortress makes it hard to get to and the owner is apparently a real piece of work.. but Scrooge isn’t afraid of a little hard work and is ready to go after it.. he just has to find a Nanny first. 

And he does as there’s only one left: Mrs. Beakley, who we FINALLY meet after two episodes. Yeah for some weird reasont his episode choose to cram the rest of the major main and supporting cast into one episode.. it still works, they all still get great introductions it’s just weird to me when you have five episodes to not say introduce Launchpad last time. 

But regardless as I said it’s a good intro.. despite the boys wilding a lasso and a snake.

 Beakly is unphased and even dosen’t remotely fall for them trying to say she got the wrong name. And while Scrooge is a little impressed, he’s even more when she states she’ll work for free... with one condition: Free room and board for her and her grandaughter, Webby, who has been there the whole time and looking cute as a button. Scrooge is unsure but one minute of Webby being adorable later and he’s agreed. She can’t eat much right? He also hopes she’ll help the boys not be douchebags, unaware that their inherent poorly written sexisim means that was never going to work. And why yes I will call it out eveyr time it happens because it happens every time they have an episode together and only gets worse. 

He goes to Gyro for help and Classic Gyro.. is utterly delightful. While I clearly have issues with Classic Scrooge, whose a greedy poorly aged asshat and the boys, who are sterotypes of male children, Gyro? He’s nice, friendlya nd eccentric, using a delightfully wakcky pogo hat thing to think and takes only a mintue to figure out how to solve a seemingly unsolvable problem and only needs a few hours to build his cool looking bird ship, using bird legs to offset the hard to sort out landing conditions. But since it’s a fancy bitch, it needs a pilot and i’m sure we all know where this is going...but since Carol Danver sis busy he has to go with Launchpad. 

Launchpad’s intro is great, cheerful as he does a job testing a plane and naturally crashes it, and when thought dead walks out seconds later unharmed and jolly as ever. Scrooge is naturally terrified of the prospect of flying with him but dosen’t really have another choice “I hope my insurance is paid up.” Scrooge it’s you.. of course it isn't. 

So with that our hero bids a farewell to the boys and ends up unteitonally coming off MASSIVELY unlikeable. No really he leaves them behind for their saftey despite needing help... and then upon finding out Donald is going to be on leave soon in the andes, and just assumes that YOU KNOW, he’d LIKE to go on a dangerous exausting adventure instead of actually get some rest after working in the goddamn navy and STILL dosen’t take the kids along despite having a very tearjerking farewell IN FRONT OF HIM that happened at most a month ago. Granted i’m suprised Donald is getting leave this soon.. but since I genuinely like to look into this sort of thing and the last time I didn’t I was correctly reminded Gulliver’s Travels was a satire.. and found out someone HAD actually watched the Jack Black movie. I only vaugely remember a trailer.. I thinkn it was a trailer? Maybe it was the middle part of a juinor novelzation where htey have all the photos? I really don’t know. I know almost every pokemon on sight but not where I saw pictures of a forgetable jack black movie, what a shock. 

So long story short I DID google it. Here’s what I got

So given clealry more time has passed than we’ve seen on screen, enough time COULD have passed for Donald’s three day pass to kick in. So credit to the crew for actually thinking that out. They still get all the blame though for not only not seeing how bad not taking the kids to see the uncle whose like a father to them a month after he left when he CLEARLY can is bad, but how worse it is that the first break donald gets ina  month.. is spent helping scrooge against his will on a life or death treasure hunt. 

And I get WHY they wanted to try out having Donald on an adventure: he was in most of the carl barks material.... but I also dont’ get it as Launchpad was deisgned entirely to fill in for Donald when needed, we’re only three episodes into the series and this gives the wrong impression Donald will guest star a lot more. In practice while he still did get a meaty 8 episodes on the show including this one, 2 of which were cameos and the pilot only dosne’t count because of the exnteded slapstick sequence, and dosen’t appear at all after season 1, likely because Fenton’s introduction made him reduntant as he was an even more blatant Donald stand-in. It just feels weird to shove him into the pilot movie when we should be focusing on our main cast, epsecially with so many getting intorduced this episode. It woudl’ve made more sense for Gyro to be the third man instead and it woud’ve elmaited Scrooge’s uttelry horrible actions here of depriving his nephews of their surrogate father. 

So Uncle Dickstick leaves with Launchpad to go abduct donald.... and tha’ts not me being funny, that’s what actually happens. Donald is singing out on leave.. with his superior... weirdly doing paper work outside on the flight deck. 

And is angry at Donald because of him taking pictures and stuff and threatens him if he’s not back exactly in time... because look he’s on a boat with a bunch of sweaty men but as the most superior officer he can’t enjoy that so he has to get off SOMEHOW and ruining donald’s life just happens ot be a thing for him. 

So yeah Scrooge straight up naps Donald via claw and Donald is angry, wondering, as you’d expect “What’s the big idea”.. and once Scrooge clairfies he did it.. still asks that because what the fuck. And the episode treats this as comical, as it does Launchpad not understanding Donald.. and don’t get me wrong you CAN make a good “I can’t understand Donald Duck” joke, the 2017 series made PLENTY. But said series also spoiled me as they did it with far more effort, while also still showing just how much it would suck to have everyone around you struggle to hear what you say and never listen to you. They actually cared abotu Donald’s well being where as this one thinks “Gee you knwo what would go great iwth a hard month’s naval work? MORE WORK HELPING YOUR UNCLE GET RICHER FOR NO PERSONAL BENIFIT AFTER HE KIDNAPS YOU”. 

So our heroes.. and scrooge, head to Andes and find the temple and it’s here “Sigh” we met our antagonist. A Conquestador Douche who DOES have a name and it is on the wiki.. but is so generic and unlikeble I’m just going to keep calling him conquestador douche, whose introduced waving his sun coin around while the natives all bow to him because of the coin.

Welcome to the racisim! Admitely it’s not as bad as Treasure of the Lost Lamp, that’s a high bar to clear, but ti’s still not great to have the racist cliche of “character conquers a civilization because of they belivie he’s a messenger for their “silly” god”. And the saddest part is not that I didn’t notice this trope and how bad it was as a kid watching shows like this... but that as an ADULT about 4 years ago when I watched this episode how racist it and this trope in general was didn’t register to me at all. That.. really bothers me that it took me this long to pick up on things like this and i’m sorry for it. 

That’s honestly WHY we need these warnings and WHY i’m so hard on this racisim: it wasn’t necessary, it could’ve been removed and you clearly just didn’t care or didn’t realize it was racist. And even acceptable for the time dosen’t work for anymore: I learned recently that the creators of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, both white, hired black writers..and actually LISTENED, looking to them for personal stories and to check them if one of the white staff wrote something that wasn’t true to the black experience. I know that sounds like the bare minimum but this was the early 90′s, that kind of thinking wasn’t hte norm like it is in most writer’s rooms now.. and sadly not ALL writer’s rooms. Not only that but just today I ran into a MST3K skit that lampooned this kind of bullshit from not long after this episode. People clearly knew better, the writers of this episode just didn’t’t care

 So yeah, I get this was a kids show in the 80′s, I get the writing staff being almost all white.. but they still coudl’ve avoided cliche sterotypes and done something diffrent. It was was still wiithin white people like myselves power to actually think about something other htan themselves and we did not. So i’m never going to stop holding my own people accountable for just how BADLY we’ve fucked up in ways great and small because it still hasn’t stopped , likely never will so I won’t. 

But yeah.... the tribe here are portrayed as ignorant, mindless dumbasses who blindly follow tradition and a clearly corrupt leader. It’s patronizingly stupid to assume just because a belief system is diffrent than yours a person will belieive anything. Religion CAN make people act stupid, the fact many people are homophobic simply because the bible, a centuries old document written and distrbuted by humans that could of been altered by people with a clear homophobic agenda, says they should be. But there’s the very clear very gross implication here that any god but the christian god is invalid and simplifies wonderful and well thought out myths and beliviefs from various cultures into “well they belivie in da sun god because of the shiny coin”. It’s gross, i’m glad it’s stopped and it’s VERY telling that the closest Ducktales 2017 came to this was the most dangerous game night which while a tad cringe inducing at least showed the tribe it used was clever, disposed the person they mistook for a god after it was clear he wasn’t one , and were wholly sympathetic. 

Naturally Conquistadouche orders the tribe to attack Scrooge and it works briefly , though Scrogoe prepares to take on the ENTIRE villiage.. and given this is Scrooge and on this blog we’ve seen him take on an entire town before, and that was a more inexpericed less bastardly scrooge yeah their fucked, and only escape death because the coin falls out of scrooge’s coat when he tries to help donald who naturally injures himself trying to help. 

And since as per white dumbass racist logic, the villiagers thought Conquistadipshit was a messenger of the gods because of his coin, they think the same of Scrooge, this causes them to stop and bow instead and protect scrooge when Conquistadumbass tries to attack our heroes. Their given a room for the night naturally. 

Conquistadick demands they give him the coin and leave, but Scrooge has none of that: he has no reason to leave and has all the leverage so he instead demands to know wha’ts going on. 

Turns out Conquisineart is the decdendant of one of the crew from the ship Scrooge found: their captain rain off with it, leaving two of his men behind, though both had the map to the rest of the treasure and split it: one left for the Arctic, the other stayed and did the whole racist god bit. And somehow despite all the time passing Conquistadoodoohead still has his half and Scrooge aranges a trade for the coin. And why yes their is the obvious problem of “what if Conquistascoobydoo say tells them he’s the true god and attacks scrooge like he ends up doing in the climax”. And Scrooge’s plan.. is to have the plane ready and to run to it, despite Launchpad not being a mechanic and saying as much. Instead of you know... stealing the guy’s coin while he’s asleep or something or just having launchpad, whose bigger and stronger and donald whose not bigger but is also stronger hold the guy while Scrooge steals his sun coin, then simply walks to the plane with the map, the coins and all the leverage. at worst the guy tries to do the same scheme without any coins and as the end of the episode shows, that wouldn’t have worked. He was stupid. Oh and the cherry on  top of this shit sundae is scrooge objects to the guys tyranical rule.. but is okay with letting it keep going if he gets his coin and DOnlad, whose there for the deal, never call shim on it. 

We then get a bit of Launchpad being forced off a cliff to ride a giant Condor...

Look this episode is filled with racisit sterotypes, a generic villian and Scrogoe being awful. I’ll take a fun sequence of Launchpad riding a condor, with Donald providing an assit with his camera  by blinding the beast so Launchpad can ride him properly giving them more leverage now Launchpad is popular. And a deadline to fix things by tommorow. 

The next day Launchapd and Donald have defied logic and their own tendency to screw up and fixed the bird, while Scrooge makes the deal.. and naturally it goes EXACTLY how you’d expect and Scrooge runs, though our real heroes get thigns running. 

That’s when the people arrive on condors to persue, a fight insues yoru standard hero stuff.. not bad but given the racist context I can’t really enjoy it like Launchpad flying a condor.. which had some mild racisim in them making him do that as a ritual clearly deisgned to kill him but i’llt ake mild over pretty damn obvious. Eventually douchebag looses his coins, his ctizens abndon him. Happy end. 

So with the map Scrooge decides to do the logical thing.... have launchpad drop him in the middle of the ocean in a raft and steer there

Launchpad takes Donald home in time and his superior is mad he dosen’t give him a proper salute.. even though he CLEARLY just got home and is diisorented from a crash. Launchpad makes a quip and this episode mercifully ends. 

Final Thoughts:

This episode starts out okay.. but quickly goes downhill fast and steep. There are massive bits of racisim, massive leaps in logic, and massive amoutns of scrooge being a dick.. not his WORST in this series but it’s still bad. It’s just not very good. It’s the second worst episode of Ducktales i’ve seen, only held up by my boys Donald and Launchpad. This was miserable.

Next Time on Treasure of the Golden Suns: Our heroes head to the arctic for another offensive episode to rescue scrooge from his own stupidity.  Next Time on this Blog: We return to Green Eggs and Ham and hop on a train as our raging bitchcanoe mother and daughter duo meat our ambigiouslyg ay duo at last. 

See you at the next rainbow.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Furies (Mermay OT4)

Request from @angellioncosplay, fill is NSFW

The jagged edge of the harpoon slices into his tail. 

Barclay knows he’s doomed but he thrashes and tries to dive all the same. He doesn’t know what the boar above wants, doesn’t care, he just wants to go home, he has to make it back to them, please, all he wants is to see them again. 

A second barb pierces his side, blood clouds his vision. 

In the darkness below, he thinks he sees two red lights racing closer. Then the harpooners tug, and the world snaps to black.

--------------------------------------

“Is he stable?” Duck whispers as Aubrey swims out of Barclay’s bedroom, shutting the door behind her. 

“Yeah. I’m glad Indrid warned us when he did; if he’d lost much more blood, I’m not sure even my powers coulda helped.”

“And Joe and ‘Drid?”

“They’re gonna stay with him. I think they’re okay but, well” she sighs, shakes her head, “if that’d happened to Dani, I don’t think anything could make me leave her side.” She loops their arms together as they swim to the door, “do you wanna come stay with us? I know this is hard on them, but you had to, like, break a harpoon in half while one of your friends almost died.”

“Nah, oughta stay in case any of ‘em need somethin.”

“You want to keep Dr. Harris Bonkers for extra support?” She holds out her sea bunny.

Duck rubs it’s back, “I’ll be okay, but thanks for the offer Lady Flame. You get home safe now.”

“I will. Oh” She turns, swimming backwards as she adds, “if he needs any more healing between now and tomorrow, come get me right away!”

He promises he will, locks the house up for the night and floats into the kitchen to put it back in some kind of order. Indrid’s sketch pad and enchanted pen are still on the floor where he dropped them, Joseph’s book and Duck’s half-built model ship knocked sideways from the seer pushing away from the table in a flurry of silver and panic. And on the counter are the ingredients Barclay’d set out for dinner, the ones he was checking off when he realized he needed scallops and swam off with a promise to be right back. 

Duck sighs, jumps when something whaps at the green-glass window. 

“Jesus Winnie, thought you were in the bedroom.” He cracks the window enough to lift the octopus inside. See slowly slides off his arm, swimming across the floor to the pile of salvaged ship instruments Duck and Indrid found for her. 

“Maybe this will keep her from stealing the silverware.” Barclay plucks a knife from the cephalopods tentacle. 

Suddenly, he’s too heavy to swim. They almost lost him. 

It’s simple, really. Duck is in love with Joe and Indrid. Joe and Indrid are in love with Barclay. But that doesn’t mean Duck doesn’t love the other mer; Barclay is one of his best friends, a sympathetic ear when things go south and the only one of the four of them capable of beating Joe at Ten Shells. Barclay also understands something about Duck that escapes many of their kind; that he can love Joe, curious and meticulous from his black hair to his dapper monochrome tail, and Indrid, strange and aloof until you gave him the right kind of stroke on his silver scales, with the same intensity. It just manifests in different ways. 

Duck cracks the bedroom door open, finds the wounded mer on his back in their large, seaweed colored bed. Indrid and Joe are nestled on either side of him. Normally, they’d be an undignified, loving pile, but the bandages on his stomach and tail prevent it. 

Indrid stirs, trilling in distress. His nightmares come and go, are most often the echos of horrible futures he was forced to watch over and over. Duck has a pretty good guess as the which one is playing in his mind tonight. 

He wiggles down onto the bed, draping his arm over Indrid’s side and guiding his bony back and red fin against his chest. When Indrid registers his weight, the nervous twitches of his tail stop. Duck glances up, watches Barclay’s hand glide down the bed to hold Indrid’s own. 

Someone almost took this from them. Almost ripped away pieces of the hearts of the mers he loves most in the world. 

And he wants to know who. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dearest, how are you feeling?”

“Fine, totally fine.” Barclay tries to sit up as a demonstration, only for his whole body to convulse. He falls back against the bed, whimpering pathetically. 

“Hmmm, I was afraid that would be the case. There were some timelines where you healed quickly, but it seems the monsters who attacked you did a great deal of damage.”

“No, no, it was just a twinge, if you give me a sec I can-”

“-You will stay in bed.” Indrid’s red gaze sharpens, “no mate of mine is going to re-open his wounds trying to make me breakfast.”

“Besides” Joseph looks up from setting all the med supplies they need in tidy stacks and lines, “it’s not like Duck or I can’t cook. You need to rest, big guy.” He swims over, strokes Barclays hair. Barclay leans into the feelings, trying to ignore the fear gnawing a new hole in his side. 

In the three days since the attack, he hasn’t been alone. His boyfriends and friend take turns sitting with him, talking when he wants to and letting him sleep when he needs, bringing him food and changing his bandages without complaint. 

It’s all wrong. That’s not their job. It shouldn’t be, that’s what they have him for. Some part of him wishes they’d been too late. Because he doesn’t want to face what’s coming. 

------------------------------------------------

“Any luck?” 

“Some. Juno says she saw an unfamiliar hull pass by about an hour before Barclay got attacked, but she wasn’t close enough to see any details.”

“Damn it.” Joseph slams the book one human weapons in frustration, then cringes at his outburst. 

Duck swims to him, pulling him up from the chair into an embrace, “We’ll figure it out, slick. Nothin else, happen to know we got a real smart mer workin the case.” He winks, kisses Joseph on the cheek. 

He snorts, then looks at the floor, “Some part of me is worried about what will happen if we do figure out who hurt him. I...I don’t believe in violence outside of dire circumstances, but they, they nearly killed him. I’d like to say my motive in seeking them out is to make sure they can’t hurt anyone else but, well, that’s secondary at best. What I want is to make them pay.”

“That makes two of us” Indrid slithers in the door, “he’s sound asleep, not to worry. I have narrowed down our potential culprits with my visions, but I too am afraid of what I may do if I locate the humans who dared harm him.”

“I get the feelin, but right now we’re mostly borrowin trouble. Let’s wait until we know a little more before decidin whether to track ‘em down.”

Joseph nods, opens his mouth to suggest one of them retrieve dinner from the fishmonger down the block, when there’s a crash from the kitchen. 

“Damn, Winnie must’ve gotten into the cabinets again.”

Indrid blinks, then frowns, “No, that is not her doing.”

Rushing into the kitchen reveals Barclay trying to arrange food on the counter. His upper body can barely move, and his tail is unable to maintain direction due to the bandages. 

“Don’t worry about, ow, me” Barclay smiles at them, but Joseph spots panic in his eyes, “th-thought I’d do some meal prep since you’re all gonna be busy this week.”

He’s about to point out that a)they’re all capable of feeding themselves even when busy and b)Barclay’s only been recovering for a week and a half and Aubrey explicitly told him it would be at least a month before he could move around without help.

Before he can make any points at all, Indrid draws himself up to his full height, frills of his ears fanned out and gestures to the bedroom, “You will do no such thing. You need your rest, dearest.”

“But-”

“That was an order, not a request.” It’s a tone that never fails to make Joseph’s spine turn to mush, and by the flash of pink in Barclay’s tail, he feels the same way. Then his whole tail drains of color and he nods. 

“Right. Sorry. I, I didn’t mean to upset you guys.”

Indrid’s frills flatten and he swims swiftly towards the other mer, “Barclay, I’m not-”

“It’s okay. I caused enough trouble already.” He catches Indrid by the chin to kiss him, blows a second kiss Joseph’s way, then disappears into the bedroom. 

As Indrid flicks his tail nervously, Duck clears his throat, “Know I joke about him not havin a selfish bone in his body, but this is startin to get ridiculous.”

The silver-scaled mer sighs, coiling his tail around Joseph’s own and opening his arms so Duck will come give him a hug. When the three of them are close together he murmurs, “ I saw this timeline, but I had so hoped it would not be the one we ended up in. I have mentioned before that the culture Barclay and I grew up in as deep water mers is very different than what you have on the reef. One component of that was the belief that a mer who could not carry his weight in his home would not be in said home for much longer. His mate or mates not only could, but were encouraged to, throw him out to make room for a more useful partner.”

The entirety of Joseph’s stomach crawls up his throat, “He really thinks we’d do that to him?”

“I suspect so.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “Barclay is already prone to such fears, in that he prides himself on taking care of others. And it is a deeply ingrained message and practice, so much so that there are times I still fear you three may turn me away should my powers disappear.”

“‘Drid-”

The mer purrs reassuringly, “But then I remind myself that I am not down there. I am up here, with you who love me regardless of my strength. Seeing the future helps a great deal as well; I can peek and see there are no timelines where you turn me away. Hmm” his tail taps Sterns lower back, “I wonder, is there a way we can mimic that experience for Barclay? Help him see his future here?”

Joseph gets an idea and, for the first time all day, the sense that he’s getting somewhere, “I have a plan.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay isn’t sure if this is some cruel joke, or if his boyfriends genuinely believe they won’t grow tired of him needing to be cared for all the time. Regardless, he doesn’t know what to do when Joseph lays beside him, kissing his cheek and shoulder as he talks about how they should go see the Kelpie migration this fall, and how he’s heard about a human beach where they serve a swim-up meal to mers and humans alike, and wouldn’t it be nice for all four of them to visit and try the food?

He doesn’t know what to do when Indrid gently sits him upright and combs his hair, jumping from topic to topic between kisses to the back of his neck but always returning to what they should do for Joseph’s birthday, or Dani and Aubrey’s anniversary, or their own anniversary.

He doesn’t know what to do right now, Indrid sitting and drawing while Joseph finishes changing the bandages on his tail. The one on his side came off a few days ago, scar tissue forming a jagged tooth of pink and white in his skin. 

Duck swims in, greeting them all at once, his usually friendly expression somber. 

“Joe, ‘Drid, could I talk to you in the kitchen? It’ll only be a minute.”

His boyfriends nod, assuring him they’ll be back even as they swim away. He wishes he could believe it, but he can think of only one reason Duck would need to talk to them alone. With a sad little groan, he rolls onto his uninjured side and pities himself to sleep. 

-----------------------------------------------------

“You’re sure that’s the one?”

“Positive. Minerva had a near miss with it this mornin, described the exact same thing Barclay did. Speakin of which, we know they’re down a few harpoons because the ones they sent after her she threw right back at them.”

“A fair response if ever there was one. Do we all agree on the plan?”

“Yep”

“Yes.”

“Good” A smile that could make a sea monster afraid, “then let us begin.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Winthrop lounges on the deck of the Nemo as his guests and the hired guides mill around the edges of the boat. After that run-in with the mermaid earlier today, they’re on pins and needles, hoping to see and (finally) catch another. 

Is poaching in a protected cove illegal? Only if you don’t have the money to pay the fine. Is it wrong to hunt the rare creatures that call this stretch of ocean home? Wrong is a deeply subjective concept. 

Warmth leaves the deck as clouds swirl above the sun. 

“I say, wasn’t it sunny a moment ago?”

“Yep. Could be again, provided y’all head to shore and never come back here.” A voice calls from the bow. 

Everyone races forward, shouting in excitement when they discover the merman addressing them with an oddly calm expression.

“Don’t even think about tryin to spear me. You ain’t the only ones with weapons.”

A second mer surfaces, armed with a spear gun he clearly knows how to use. 

“Joe’s a damn good shot.”

The other mer fixes them with a steely gaze, “This is your last warning. Leave this cove and never try to hunt here again.”

“Or what?”

The whole boar rocks as something massive bumps the underside. Screams draw his attention to the silver, serpentine shape gliding through the water. A red fin breaks the surface and then it’s gone. 

Then the boat nearly capsizes as it rams the port side. In the darkening waves, the monster turns it’s head to look up at them. It’s red eye is the size of a steering wheel, but he forgets all about that when the creature rears up, jaws snapping, and narrowly misses dragging his wife off the boat between butcher-knife teeth. 

“Our friend here is mighty angry with you” the first merman rubs the monster's fin as it swims by him, “in fact, he’s downright furious.”

“And it looks like he’s decided to build up some speed before hitting you this time. I don’t think your boat will survive that amount of force.”

“Alright, alright we’ll leave, we’ll go and never come back.”

A hissing screech from the monster. 

“We swear!” He says, really meaning it this time. 

The first merman points towards shore, “then get goin’.”

The boat speeds away, and Winthrop decides to never, ever look back. 

-------------------------------------------

“That was fuckin incredible darlin’”

“Thank you” Indrid returns to his usual form, groggy but pleased, “you were both wonderful as well.”

“Never been happier that you’re so into workin out how human machines operate” Duck kisses Joseph hard, one of Indrid’s favorite sights in the whole of the sea.

 “If you like how I handle a spear gun, you should see how I handle, um, other things.”

“I am” Indrid yawns, “in favor of that idea. But first, I believe I am due for a nap, and Barclay is due for an update.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“You did all that for me?” Barclay twists his fingers in the blanket beneath him, trying to sound pleasantly surprised instead of confused. From the look Joseph and Duck trade, he’s doing a shit job. 

“Well, technically we also did it to keep the reef safe from hunters, and hopefully start a legend that will keep any like-minded poachers from coming within fifty miles of our home. Or our family. And yes, dearest, that includes you.” In the darkened bedroom, deep purple shimmers up Indrid’s tail. A signal to obey.

“I, I never said it didn’t.”

“Yes, but it has been on your mind for weeks.”

“I…”

“Barclay” Joseph settles beside him, taking his hand, “Indrid told us about what you two were taught about needing care or being helpless. I, we, none of us want you thinking that’s what will happen here. I promise.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying, not until Indrid whispers “hush now, dear one” and carefully rests their tails together so that the wound is left untouched.

“I, I thought saying it would make it worse. Make you think I needed reassurance, which would just make it clear how useless I am. I, I know that sounds ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous to feel vulnerable or scared after something traumatic.” Joseph traces his fingers up and down his arm and his scales ripple in reply. 

“Nor to feel off-balance when you are unable to do what you usually do.”

“But you gotta tell us next time.” Duck rests next to Joseph, “we care about you, all three of us, but we can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

He flashes apologetic yellow, “You’re right. I’ll, I’m gonna try to be better about that. It’s just hard for me to let other mers take care of me sometimes.”

The purple returns to Indrid’s tail, and when he turns to look at Barclay his smile is no longer gentle and ethereal. It’s almost tangible enough to slice his chest and send everything he wants pouring onto the bed. 

“It seems to me, my dear one, that you could use some practice in that area.”

“Yes” he murmurs, then yips when Indrid bites his throat, “I mean yes, sir.”

“Much better. After all, your convalescence has made such things difficult until now. And yes, Joseph, I will keep an eye on the futures to be certain no one is hurt. Speaking of which: Duck, please adjust so Barclay’s head is in your lap. You’ll need to hold his shoulders down should he try and disobey me.”

A shift of the bed and then his head rests on mottled green scales. 

“Hey” He smiles up and Duck sends a crooked grin his way, setting more pink off in his tail. He may not want to fuck him, but Barclay’s not about to deny how handsome Duck can be.

This rumination distracts him from Indrid and Joseph’s conversation, so he’s pleasantly surprised when the black-tailed mer catches his lips in a kiss. It’s precise, down with calculated care that always makes him feel like the most interesting, important thing in the world. 

“That’s it big guy, relax for us.”

“I’, I’m tryINGfuck, it’s, it’s kinda hard when Indrid is doing that.”

Indrid chuckles, continues teasing the scales in his upper tail, “Shall I stop?”

“No, please no-”

“Please what?” His slit opens at the steel in Indrid’s voice. 

“Please sir.”

“Good boy. Ah, and here’s that lovely cock of yours. What shall I do with it, hmmm?”

“Anything you want sir.” He tries not to giggle as Joseph nibbles his ear.

“I was not asking you.” Indrid cocks his head at Duck.

“Huh” Duck toys with Barclays hair, “think I wanna see you suck it. Been too damn long since you had a dick in your mouth that wasn’t mine.”

Indrid licks his lips and then Barclay’s moans fill the bedroom as his boyfriend lovingly sucks the head of his cock. 

“Is now the time to mention he sucked me off yesterday while you were at work?” Joseph smiles up at Duck, though his hand is busy teasing Barclay’s nipples. 

Duck growls, “and you didn’t even give an encore where I could watch. Mighty rude of you. Both of you.”

“Don’t blame me” Indrid jerks Barclay off with one hand and fingers his slit with the other, “you know how needy our pet gets.”

“True. Guess I’ll have to put him in his place.” Duck looks down at Barclay, gaze soft in spite of his tone, “not tonight though. Tonight his job is to take care of you.”

“Speaking of which” Joseph turns his face into another kiss just as Indrid’s mouth envelopes his cock once again. He moans and whimpers between those perfect lips, a month of not even being able to touch himself meaning his body is already being dragged towards orgasm. His hand finds Joseph’s tail, petting it enticingly. 

“If you AHnnnfuck, lay perpendicular babe, I can suck you off without hurting myself.”

Joseph glances at Indrid, who pulls off of Barclay’s cock and shakes his head, “Not tonight, dearest.”

He whimpers, tries to lift his head, use his tongue to tease Joseph’s retreating tail, only or Duck to hold him firmly in place. 

“I know, sweet one, you do so love being inside our pet, whether with that talented tongue, those skillful hands, or this sinful thing.” He gives a final jerk, then uses his tail to guide Joseph into his former position, “And I would never deny you that pleasure. He’s such a good little pet after all.” He kisses Joseph posessively, then glides behind him and sets his hands on his waist, “which is why I am going to fuck him on you. I will control his movements, so as to avoid aggravating your injury.”

“And because you get off on it.” Duck adds.

“That too.”

“AHfuck!” Barclay’s whole tail lights up purple for an instant as Indrid shoves Joseph down onto his cock. He might submit to Indrid, but Joseph is the mer in the sea he most wants to claim, to fuck until he’s begging for more.

“Nghnshit, shit that’s so good big guy, fuck I missed this.”

“Ahem.” 

“Thank you Indridoh, ohohohohfuck.” Joseph’s hands scrabble on Barclay’s tail as Indrid bounces him up and down. He looks so handsome like this, cock hard and slit swallowing Barclay to the hilt, dark hair loose and framing his head like a crown. 

Barclay reaches for him, desperate for a touch, but Duck holds him down.

“Thank you, love, if he had moved just then he would have hurt himself.”

“Don’t care” Barclay growlwhines, “Joseph, babe, wanna touch you so bad.”

“You’ll get to, big guy, there’ll be plenty of chances after this.”

He growls, teeth clenched as the riptide of his orgasm pulls at him. 

“It’s okay big fella, you can let go. We’ve got you.” Duck’s voice, as soothing as the hand he scritches down his scalp. 

“Fuck” is all he gets out before Indrid pushes Joseph down and Barclay spurts up into him with moan. 

“Better, big guy?” Joseph’s smile is as dazzling as ever. 

“Uh huh.” His bones are mud, his eyes heavy, and he feels better than he has all month. 

“Good. Come, let me look you over and hold you. Duck and Joseph will join us shortly.”

“But I thoughtAHfuck” is all he hears before the sound of Duck frantically fucking Joseph fills one half of the room, his boyfriends moan switching from charming to mouthwatering as Duck keeps fucking him after he’s cum. 

Indrid builds them a nest on the other side of the bed, guides him into it to comb his hair and rub his aching shoulders, humming as he does. Eventually, Duck swims over to join them, Joseph more floating than swimming in his embrace. 

“How do you feel, big guy?”

“Good. Really, really good.” He closes his eyes, safe in the knowledge that his home and family will still be his when he wakes up.

Then he opens them again.

“Wait, so what the fuck did you actually do to the guy who harpooned me?”

[scaryscarecrows]

Will Trade Soup for Intel

Potential Gotham Knights ‘verse. For those who did not see the trailer: Bruce is dead (pfft, suuuuure he is), Jim Gordon is dead (Jim, no!), the Court of Owls appears (this is gonna be bad), Batgirl and Robins 1-3 have guardianship of Gotham. For this piece: Penguin is also dead. Dove has his operation. And the flu. :p

***

Tim’s not sure where he thought Jason was going to take him. Honestly, because it’s Jason, he was sort of thinking, ‘seedy hole in the wall where retired hitmen go’. Or something. Or maybe an orphanage, or an under-the-bridge camp; the Alley Kids don’t throw bottles and needles at him, unlike the others. They demand rides.

(Yeah, it’s funny but also scary to see the Red Hood, known for his duffle bag of heads, giving a little girl a piggyback ride.)

This is not one of those places. This is some apartment building in midtown with a doorman and everything. And, y’know, it’s daytime, which...they don’t operate in the daytime that much unless they’re undercover, and they don’t appear to be. Jason told Tim to dress like a real boy and stick his domino on in the elevator, but he’s wearing what he always does; jeans, hoodie, heavy boots. And he’s carrying a brown bag that smells like soup. No helmet in sight, and Tim knows he won’t wear a domino now. They bug the scar*, he says.

“Where are we?”

“To see an old friend. I’m out of other ideas.”

“What, are they a conspiracy professor or something?”

“No.”

The doorman waves them through and they wait for an empty elevator. Jason presses the third-floor button and settles in, adjusting the bag in his arms. For all the crap they give...gave...Bruce about theatrics, Jason’s no better. He lives for building the suspense. Tim had nearly murdered him again for that stupid monk joke. Asshole. Ten minutes from his life, and for that? Humph.

A cotton face mask whaps him in the chest while he’s adjusting his domino and he frowns.

“What.”

“You’re fragile, and she’s got the flu, which is why we’re here in the daytime. I’m basically immune after my, um, upgrade points got cashed in, but you are a Victorian maiden who'll probably turn it into tuberculosis and die and I can’t deal with Dick after that.”

Huh.

…

Whatever. You lose one spleen…

He puts the mask on, too, making sure Jason sees his glower, just as the elevator dings to a halt.

Tim starts to suspect they’re not invited, exactly, when Jason shoves the bag at him and drops down to pick the lock. Though he does knock and call, “Don’t get up!”, so.

“There. Give me that before you spill something...hey, Miss Marquis! I brought soup!”

…

Jason couldn’t have just told him this, why?

There’s furious coughing in the other room, followed by movement, and a minute later Dove shuffles out, wrapped in a blanket and wearing what appear to be bunny slippers. She looks terrible.

“For the tenth time, I don’t care how immune you think you are, you’re going to get sick and I can take care of myself.”

“Haven’t gotten sick yet,” Jason says cheerfully. “‘Sides, it’s, like, partly a bribe.”

Dove doesn’t look convinced. Tim’s not convinced, either. Jason, when left to his own devices, can and will out-mother-hen Dick. He’s just usually scarier when he does it. More like Alfred.

Before any further argument can happen, Dove starts coughing again and winds up clutching the doorframe with one hand and holding the other up to keep Jason at bay.

“Thought you were gonna take Theraflu,” Jason says sulkily. Dove reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I will take it if I need it, Hood.” Tim sympathizes. Theraflu tastes like sadness. At least Robitussin is nice. “I promise this isn’t my first flu, I am fine. ” This is not a battle she’ll win. Tim knows. Tim has tried and failed. Jason had loomed at him and told him, oh-so-nicely, that he would take the Theraflu or that it would breach his defenses. “What do you want.”

Jason holds up the bag.

“Fridge or bowl?”

“Fridge, please.”

“Tea?”

“If I say yes, will you settle down?”

“For now.”

She sighs and totters over to an armchair.

“Fine.”

“What kind.”

“I’ve got some sort of zinger tea in there, that would be very nice.”

Jason vanishes into the kitchen. Dove sinks into her chair, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders, and waves at the couch.

“Siddown, Robin.”

“Sorry we broke in,” he says, because Jason won’t. Dove just shakes her head.

“This isn’t the first time or the last time,” she says. “At least you used the door...if you need a drink or somethin’, help yourself.”

Jason comes back, steaming mug in his hands.

“I’ll get it,” he says. “Bird boy here shouldn’t touch the kitchen.”

Slander.

“Nightwing’s worse.”

“Still. Here y’go.”

“Thanks, honey.” Dove leans up to take it before shooing him back. “Now. Why are you here.”

Jason settles onto the couch next to Tim and leans forward, worrying at his lower lip.

“This is going to sound crazy.”

“Well, that’s interesting.”

“Do you know anything about the Court of Owls?”

Dove snorts, coughs, and takes a sip of her tea.

“What?”

“You know…beware the court of owls that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed. Speak not a whispered word of them--”

“Or they’ll send the Talon for your head, I know the rhyme.” She takes another sip. “It’s a scary story to keep kids in line, you know that.”

“We thought so, but.” He shrugs. “”Had a run-in with...something...last night that, um. Looked a little dead. But not dead like me, dead like...I don’t know. It was like it wasn’t human anymore. Or ever. I don’t know.”

Well, that’s a surprise. Tim wonders if Jason just straight-up admitted what happened or if Dove got it out of him or from some other source.

“Croc’s not human, either, kid.”

“No. This thing...I didn’t...I broke its neck and it fucking twisted it back into place.”

Dove frowns.

“You’re sure?”

“Uh-huh. And before that I emptied literally twelve bullets into this thing and it didn’t even flinch. I’m telling you, something wasn’t right and it was wearing an owl mask.”

Tim nods.

“There have been four murders committed with daggers that have owl insignias on them,” he says. “We think these two things are related.”

“Owl daggers?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I see one?”

“I brought a picture. The daggers are police evidence.”

“Like you boys didn’t borrow one,” she says, but sits up when Jason comes over with the phone. “I’ve seen something like this before.”

Well, that was unexpected.

“When?”

“Years ago, now. Penguin had one that he got from who-knows-where. It went missing one night-we chalked it up to Catwoman and let it go-but we did have people offer to buy it a few times. Generous offers, too.”

“He wouldn’t sell?” Odd. Penguin loved money almost as much as his pet birds. “Can you remember who offered?”

“Rich men, you know the type. They like...oddities.”

Tim does know the type. During Dick’s stint as Batman, he’d stumbled upon an auction house that specialized in some nasty things, including a very particular crowbar.

(Jason, as far as Tim knows, has no idea about this.)

“Did he say anything about it?”

“No. He put it in his office, in a little case, and honestly, I sort of figured someone had tried to kill him with it. He was funny about things like that.”

That’s an understatement. Penguin had been very proud of the bottle in his eye, among other things.

Dove starts coughing again and ends up setting her tea on the end table. Jason’s halfway over there when the coughs turn to sputters and she manages to wheeze out a, “Fine. M’fine.”

“This is why you should take Theraflu.”

“Honey…”

“I can make--”

“Hon.” He shuts up. “I’m okay. It’s just the flu, give me another week and I’ll be back to normal.” She takes a shuddery breath and picks up her tea again. “I promise. Now. I don’t.” Another shuddery breath, but no coughing this time. “I don’t know anything else off the top of my head, but. Little fuzzy.” She tugs at her blanket until it’s closed around her neck, just under her chin. “If anything comes up, I’ll let you know-ow- shit --”

The coughs don’t stop this time and she winds up bent nearly double, arms curled up to, presumably, brace her ribs. Ouch. When they finally wane, she’s red-faced and wheezing and looking fairly well miserable. Tim’s just about to nudge Jason when she stands up, clutching her mug in white, shaky fingers, and says, “I am going back to bed. Lock up behind yourselves.”

“Can we do anything?”

“No, hon. But thanks. You boys.” A finger goes up and she sort of... hics ...but nothing happens. “You boys stay safe. Don’t do anything. Anything reckless.”

Reckless? Humph. They’re not reckless. Adventurous, is Tim’s preferred term. So one time he leapt off a building knowing his grappler wasn’t working. Dick caught him, like he knew he would. It was leap or be eaten, and being eaten was by far the uglier choice.

“Reckless? Us?” Jason mock-gasps. “Thanks. Soup’s in the fridge. Want me to make you a Thera--”

“ No. Thank you.”

THE END

*I’m debating on whether or not that scar is Joker-related (could be an aborted Glasgow?) OR Batarang-caused: maybe Bruce hit his face rather than his throat in this version of UtRH. Either way, ow.

[harrylee94]

The Tournament - Chapter 14

You can find this on AO3!

Summary: Jo stared them, and then up at him for a few moments, before flinging herself into his arms. He winced from the sudden pressure on his bruised body but he held her tight as she thanked him over and over and over again, and he spun her around on the spot to elicit a laugh from her before setting her down again. He’d had no idea how much this would mean to her, but from the way he was still stunned over it himself, he probably should have guessed.

Notes: Not quite so exciting a chapter this time, but still a little emotional.

Chapter 13

——————————————————————

“Welcome to Clan Krayt Dragon.” - Cobb

“Arm out straight,” the tailor said, holding their measuring tape out as Cobb complied, muttering to themself as they held it from his shoulder to his wrist, then batted his arm back down to write something down quickly before returning to his side. “Stand to attention.”

Cobb made a face as it pulled some of his tender muscles, but smirked a little at the snicker he heard from the corner where Jo was sitting.

It felt like he was in a dream. He’d beaten Jaonar, won the Tournament and revealed his face, but then something that hadn’t even occurred in his wildest dreams had happened. He was a knight. He was Ser Cobb Vanth of Mos Pelgo. The head of his own Clan; Clan Krayt Dragon! And then Din, the Prince, had accepted him and offered him the honour of being his Protector.

He had to pinch himself to make sure it was real.

He’d been sent off to see the physician in quick order after that though, and they’d poked and prodded him all over, forcing him to have a quick wash before rubbing oils and salves into his bruised skin and the abrasions he’d suffered. They’d wrapped his shoulder and warned him not to strain it too much for the next few days to make sure the muscles recovered properly, and then they’d handed him over to the tailor.

And Jo.

Apparently she’d been sent there by the Armourer to get his measurements at the same time as the tailor, to make sure everything was done efficiently.

“Measurements for what?” he’d asked as the tailor positioned him in the centre of the room.

“For your armour, of course.”

“Armour? But I’ve already got armour.”

She’d snorted and looked at him like he was an idiot. “You’ve got second hand crap that doesn’t fit you and only works for jousting. You need better armour.”

And so he found himself here, with someone he barely knew and was afraid to ask the name of running their fingers down his back to measure him for who knew what. Almost every inch of him had been measured by this point (though thankfully they’d gone around the delicates); around his neck, chest, biceps, wrists, thighs, ankles, the length of his foot, floor to inner thigh, floor to hip, hips, waist… The list went on and seemed inexhaustible.

“I’ve got everything I need,” the tailor said at long last, and Cobb sighed in relief, ready to sit down, but then Jo pulled out her own measuring tape and he groaned.

“Can’t you just get the measurements off of them?” he asked, hoping for more than just a moment of rest.

“I need different measurements,” Jo said with a grin.

“Why does that sound like a lie?”

The Armourer’s apprentice shrugged, and that’s when he knew it was a lie.

“Now, I will be working on your wardrobe, Ser Cobb,” the tailor said as Jo got started on her own measurements, simply using nudges and prods to push Cobb into place rather than telling him to move.

“My-- my wardrobe?” Cobb spluttered. He’d never had more than a few changes of clothes before, enough to stuff into a bag at a moment’s notice if necessary, but they were expecting him to have multiple changes of clothes? “I really don’t think-”

“You’re the Protector of the Prince, soon to be Witch King of Mandalore,” Jo butted in with a light slap to his good shoulder. “You need to dress the part.”

“I…” he started, but found himself stuck on the thought that he was the next Protector. Again.

“As I was saying,” the tailor continued as they brought out a pad of paper and a pencil, quickly sketching something as they talked, “it’s my role to ensure that you have the appropriate clothes for your life as a knight and as the Protector. I’m aware you are more used to the practicality of what you wore in the stables, so for now I will keep from suggesting skirts or gowns, though I did design a few for Mand’alor the Beloved that she said were still quite practical when it came to unexpected combat…”

“Uh, yeah, no dresses, please,” Cobb said, not sure he’d be able to handle so much fabric all at once.

The tailor hummed and continued to scribble on their pad. “I can find a few things you could wear until we’ve managed to sew a few garments for you, but your outfit for the coronation has to be perfect!” They turned the pad around to show him. “Thoughts?”

“Uh…”

The sketch was quite simple, and yet deceptively detailed in the way some of the lines were drawn; it was of a figure in a form-fitting doublet with a high collar over a shirt with long sleeves, and a belt around the middle. High boots had also been drawn, and what must have been hose on the legs, because those did not look baggy enough to be trousers. There was also the scribble of a design on the doublet’s chest and collar that he couldn’t quite decipher, and lines that hinted at a cloak or cape of some sort.

“That means he likes it,” Jo said before he could formulate any real thoughts on the matter, and he glared at her.

“Wait, wait, I didn’t say that,” he said, pointing at her, then turning back to the tailor. “It’s… I like the… the shirt, and the boots.”

They smiled at him encouragingly. “Okay, that’s good. What about the doublet?”

He winced. “I’m sorry, but I’m not used to anything that… fancy. I don’t think I’d be comfortable wearing something like that.”

The tailor nodded thoughtfully, pulling the pad back and turning to a new page. “Why don’t you tell me what sort of thing you like to wear, and we can work from there.” They paused. “What did you wear to the funeral?”

Cobb looked away, frowning at the memory of standing at the pyre all day, of the smoke that still clung to what he’d worn. “I wore a red shirt, and a red scarf.”

The tailor was silent, probably waiting for some elaboration, but when he didn’t give them any more details they nodded and went back to their sketches.

“You are so helpful, Ser Cobb,” Jo said sarcastically, her tape wrapped around his middle and a pencil of her own stuck behind her ear.

“Don’t call me that,” Cobb huffed. “It’s still Cobb. Just because I have a title now doesn’t mean I’m any different.”

“I know that,” she said, giving him another nudge to push him into another position, “but you’ve got to get used to hearing it. Ser Cobb Vanth, head of Clan Krayt Dragon.”

“It’s not much of a Clan without people in it,” he muttered, but then he caught her hand before she could write her latest measurement down. “Would you join my Clan?”

She blinked at him in surprise. “I’m… not sure that’s how it works.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re like a sister to me, so why not make it official?”

“You…” she started, but turned to the tailor, who had paused in their sketching. “Can he do that?”

The tailor frowned in thought and Cobb held his breath. “I haven’t heard of it happening recently, but I believe it’s the head of the Clan who decides who does and does not make up its members. So, yes, if you are both in agreement, then he can make you a part of his Clan.”

Jo stared them, and then up at him for a few moments, before flinging herself into his arms. He winced from the sudden pressure on his bruised body but he held her tight as she thanked him over and over and over again, and he spun her around on the spot to elicit a laugh from her before setting her down again. He’d had no idea how much this would mean to her, but from the way he was still stunned over it himself, he probably should have guessed.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes! Cobb, oh stars, I want that!” she declined with a tearfilled smile. “For people to know that we’re family like that…”

He nodded. He understood completely. “Well then, Vod,” he said, holding out his hand and waiting for her to grasp it, “welcome to Clan Krayt Dragon.”

She beamed at him and quickly stepped in for another hug, this one a bit more careful but no less warm. It was a wonderful moment, one that Cobb wanted to bottle up and return to on rainy days, but they both had tasks to perform and he carefully pulled her away after what was probably a good few minutes.

“Alright now, let’s get these measurements done,” he said, and she nodded, quickly wiping at her cheeks and eyes.

“You’d better adopt Peli, too,” she said with a look of warning as she remeasured his middle. "She deserves it after everything you've put her through."

“I plan to,” he said, holding his arms out a little to give her room. “What’s a family without a terrifying matriarch? Not that you aren’t, Jo.”

The woman gave his good shoulder another whap with her palm and continued her work.

“I have a few more designs,” the tailor said, and Cobb nearly jumped out of his skin, having almost completely forgotten they were there. “Would you mind looking at them and telling me what bits you like and what bits you don’t like?”

“Sure,” he said with an embarrassed cough, ignoring Jo’s amused giggle in an attempt to retain some sort of dignity.

For the next half an hour he gave his opinions and feedback on the sketches the tailor made, eventually being able to sit down once Jo had finished with him, and they started to discuss in earnest what sort of things he’d be comfortable wearing, and what sort of things he’d be able to endure for the occasions where style was more important than comfort.

They ended up with paper scattered all over the table in the corner, Cobb’s shaky handwriting and heavy handed lines scribbled on several of the drawings (after making sure that it was okay for him to deface the sketches), others with Jo’s hand as she incorporated various pieces of armour into some of the designs, while some drawings were discarded altogether. There was a list of colours on each page as well, and there were some swatches of fabric that had been produced from a bag, but Cobb was starting to get a bit annoyed at how detailed everything had to be.

Luckily, a knock at the door interrupted them before he could let it go anywhere, and he almost sighed in relief when it opened to reveal the Prince.

“My Prince,” the three of them said as they rose to their feet to offer a bow, the man stepping into the room and nodding to each of them in turn but his eyes lingering on Cobb.

“I hope I’m not disturbing,” he said.

“Not at all, my Prince,” the tailor said with a smile. “I believe we’ve just about exhausted the options I can offer given the tight time schedule.”

Din nodded at them before turning his gaze back to Cobb. “Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal you away, Ser Cobb.”

Cobb smirked and bowed his head again. “I’m at your disposal, my Prince.”

Din said nothing, but his eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief as he turned and left the room. Cobb gave Jo a quick hug (carefully ignoring the way Jo whispered 'royally screwed' into his ear) and shook the tailor’s hand before following after him, giving Saruk a nod when they waved him to the spot at Din’s left as they walked down the hall.

“How are you finding being a knight so far, Ser Cobb?” the Prince asked as he led the way through the corridors to a place that Cobb couldn’t fathom.

“Well, it involves a lot more people poking and prodding you than I expected, my Prince,” he replied, and the man beside him chuckled. It rang against the stone, and it had to have been one of the best sounds in the world.

“Having a title tends to come with people wanting to take care of you, or at least bother you,” he said, “and please, we’re to be closer than brothers; call me Din.”

Cobb blinked at him in surprise. To be given permission to call the Prince -- the future Witch King -- by name was yet another honour he hadn't been expecting. “I… Then you can’t keep calling me ‘Ser’, Din.”

Their eyes met and held for several seconds before the small curve of Din’s lips grew into a full smile.

“Cobb,” he said with a nod as they pulled to a stop. “Well then, Cobb, I have a question for you.”

“Oh?”

The Prince hummed and pulled a key from his person, fitting it in the lock to the door beside them and pushing it open. Cobb’s mouth opened in silent shock for what had to have been the tenth time that day.

The room was filled with weapons -- swords, axes, spears, glaives and more -- racks of them across the walls, in the middle, barrels of arrows sitting near unstrung bows. There were several suits of armour -- both steel and leather -- set carefully on stands, side by side, and various signal flags and banners hanging limp on poles. This had to be the armoury.

“While the Armourer works on your sword,” Din said, drawing his attention, “which weapon would you like?”

——————————————————————

Mando'a Translations:

Vod -- brother/sister/sibling

Chapter 15

[only-lonely-stars]

The Future is Bright, Chapter 4

[Chapter 1 (Beginning)] // [Chapter 3] // [Chapter 4 - you are here!] // [Chapter 5] // [Chapter 10 (End)] (FFN)

Cole and Jay have a bro talk in this installment... maybe a refresher would be nice. After all, it’s been years since they saw their futures.

Summary: What would happen if Cole had indeed had a reflection in the tomb of the First Spinjitzu Master? How would that have changed his life later? What would it have been? This story follows what might have happened if he had seen something, and what it was; who he would have become. What if his future was already decided?... (Rated T for safety. Alternate title: the Cosmic Spoilers AU.)

Chapter 4: Late Night, Early Morning

When the Ninja at last returned home from Shintaro, it was very late in the evening.

That night, everyone went to bed quickly, content with sleeping off their accumulated exhaustion. Their time under the mountain had worn them down, breaking their defenses and walls of fortitude with a quick strength that was rarely found elsewhere. Now they were tired beyond belief– most of them were too tired to think.

When they arrived at the Monastery, Cole tried to rest as well. He went to bed and readied himself for it... but quickly found he couldn't sleep. He was tired, but his mind wouldn't rest.

In his defense, Cole had a lot to think about. His mother, the temple of the Masters of Earth, the Geckles and Munce, the Sorcerer… Vania… his future. There was so much to wonder about, so much to ponder and process. It was certainly too much for a sleeping Cole to process, clearly... so he didn't manage to rest at all.

Some time around two in the morning, Cole eventually roused himself from bed. It was defeatist to try to sleep now, so why try any more? He wandered around the Monastery, looking for rest, but found none. Even a glass of water and a slice of ice cream cake from the freezer didn't help, although it did wake him up, so he went back to wandering.

As he wandered, Cole eventually spotted a dim light in the living room. He headed to the doorway to see who it was.

When he poked his head in, Cole spotted Jay, lying on the couch with a comic book and a reading light that was entirely too big for what he was reading. Jay's face was the picture of focus, and he read with intense ferocity, completely engrossed. Cole stifled a snicker. That was his brother, all right, completely stuck in his own world. This was the perfect chance to get his revenge for that night in the palace!

Silently, with all the stealth a master ninja should muster, Cole snuck up behind Jay. He was thankful for the low amount of light, because he didn't cast a shadow that night. Jay didn't notice his presence at all, only turning another page in blissful ignorance... he was the perfect prey.

For a moment, Cole primed himself. After he was sure in his footing, he grinned and took a breath. Then he tackled Jay.

"EEK!" Jay screeched, landing on the floor with a hard thump as Cole landed on top of him, the comic book and light falling face-down on the floor. Jay immediately started to struggle against Cole's grip. "WHAT IN THE FSM!"

Cole burst into laughter and grabbed a pillow, whisper-shouting in Jay's face. "For Shintaro!" After saying so, he immediately whapped Jay in the face with it.

"Oh my word– COLE!" Jay grabbed the pillow, using it as a shield. "Let me up!"

Cole only laughed more, having pinned him. He would've kept laughing if Jay hadn't smacked him in the face with the pillow, knocking him to the side enough that he could get up. "Cole! How dare you!"

"Easily!" he retorted, still laughing a little.

"Okay, for one, that was completely unfair," Jay pouted, throwing the pillow back on the couch and grabbing his book to point the light at Cole. "For two, I'm gonna get you back for that. Way to scare a guy!"

"Yeah, I know." Cole grinned shamelessly, adrenaline settling already. "That's why I did it."

"Seriously! Thanks a lot," Jay pouted.

"Sorry." He got to his feet, not feeling that sorry. "I just saw the opportunity and took it."

"It's fine," Jay drawled, ruffling his already-messy hair. "I should've been paying more attention. Then I could have gotten you into a grip hold and made you yield!"

Cole snickered more. "Like you could've heard me! I'm the quietest of all of us."

"I don't agree, but whatev's." He rolled his eyes. "Is there any reason for you being up this early besides to scare me?"

Cole sighed, his thoughts coming back around to the forefront of his mind. His coherency dried up as he struggled to put them to words. "I, uh… I never went to bed, actually."

Jay's jaw dropped. "Seriously? Why not? You're exhausted!"

Cole nodded dumbly, feeling dumb. "Yeah, uh…" He gesticulated wildly. "You know. Future stuff. Shintaro. The thing with the tomb. Couldn't sleep."

Shock gone immediately, Jay instead raised an eyebrow, gleeful. "Oh, I see. Do you mean your crush on Vania, or hers on you?"

"Jay!" Cole groaned. "I do not have a crush on Vania, okay? Stop saying it!"

"Sure, sure you don't. I believe you."

"It's true!"

Jay nodded, clearly disbelieving. "Mhm. It's totally true. One hundred percent."

"Come on!" Cole felt like he was pleading with him. "I'm telling the truth."

"What, do you expect me to actually believe you? It's obvious!"

"Wh– yes, I expect you to actually believe me! Why would I lie?!"

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe because you don't want it to be true!" Jay laughed. "You're the one literally losing sleep over it."

Cole hesitated. "...You got me there."

"I got you with all of it. Don't lie to me."

"You're the one accusing me of lying about how I feel? That's rich."

"Not the point!" Jay crossed his arms. "Just out with it. What's really wrong here? Otherwise, I'm going to assume it's because you didn't get Vania's phone number before we left."

Cole glared at the floor, silently retorting that yes, he actually did get her number. It wouldn't help his case to say so, though...

"Fine." He looked up at Jay, feeling exposed. "I just– you know I don't want this, Jay. I just want to know what it meant and to get past it so I don't have to deal with the future hanging over me. I can't stop thinking about what will happen."

Jay sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Cole, just because you don't want it, doesn't mean you can avoid it. The future comes no matter what we think, after all..."

"I barely even remember it, though."

"The vision?"

"Yeah. It's been years, after all."

"Hm… well, that could be a problem," Jay mused.

"You're telling me."

The two lapsed into comfortable silence, but Jay broke it a minute later by clapping, startling Cole. "I know! Let's just go back to the tomb and get a second look!"

Cole looked at him, wide-eyed. "What? Can we do that?"

"Sure, why not? We just have to borrow R.E.X. again. It could be fun!"

"Well… it could," he conceded, starting to plan. "Helpful, too. Would we bring the others? Nya and Lloyd never got to see it."

"We could ask." Jay shrugged. "Lloyd probably won't want to– he's seen the future enough, why would he want more prophecy?– but I'm sure Nya would. She always wants to be involved with that kind of stuff."

"I guess it couldn't hurt..." Cole sighed heavily. "Anything to figure out what the heck I actually saw is good."

Jay nodded, but as always, had to say more. "What'll you do if it's what you think it is?"

"I guess I'll go back. Maybe Vania can help me figure it out from there." He shrugged. "I can draw it so she can see, actually."

Jay shrugged. "Either that or show her yourself. Maybe she'd want to see her future?"

Cole shook his head immediately, the idea completely unwelcome. "No way. I don't want to make her have to see that. She already knows what she's stuck doing, being the queen and all that. She doesn't need one more thing telling her what to do."

"I doubt she sees herself as being stuck doing it, but okay." Jay fell back onto the couch. "Suit yourself, don't show her."

Cole shrugged, sitting next to Jay a lot more gently while wrestling with his thoughts. How could he convince Jay? "I mean… Well, y'know. It's not exactly fun wondering about the future, much less not knowing if you even want the future you'll have. It doesn't leave you a choice."

Jay scoffed. "Well, here's the thing." He turned and gave Cole an uncharacteristically serious look. "Think about this, Cole. If your future is to live in Shintaro– which is really awesome, honestly– with someone you love enough to spend your life with, would you accept it? It's practically a dream come true."

Cole paused, thinking about it, and hating how his thoughts always seemed to settle on one person. Internally, he blamed the fact that Vania was the only girl in Shintaro he really knew, but he still didn't like the fact that his mind always went back to her... It was always her, with her intelligent eyes and cheerful smile. What was it that had made her stick in his head so much since they'd left?

Eventually, he sighed. "I guess. It couldn't be that bad."

"You… guess?" Jay stared. "Wow, you really are against this."

Cole threw his hands up in exasperation. "Is it so bad that I don't want to leave Ninjago? We've protected this place for years. It's my home– pretty much everyone I know and love is here."

"I guess not, but…" Jay trailed off. "If there's a girl you'd die for, just to keep her safe, wouldn't you want to be there with her? Wouldn't you want to keep her safe?"

More silence fell between them, still enough to hear a pin drop. Cole struggled to sort through his emotions, and for once, Jay was quiet.

"Yeah. I guess I would."

"Then there you go." Jay leaned back against the arm of the couch. "Most of the time you can't control who you love, Cole. If there's a girl who makes you feel everything at once when you're with her, you'd want to stay. I know you'd choose her over Ninjago, and that's okay."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. It's better than just thinking."

Cole snickered. "Yeah, okay. I'll take it from you." He elbowed Jay good-naturedly. "Seeing as you know all about that."

Jay elbowed him back, grinning. "Oh yeah. I've had tons of experience with this."

"Lots of it with that one girl. So much."

"Oh, shut up! I think I can count my almost-messed-it-up-so-many-times romance as 'lots of experience.'"

"Yeah, okay," Cole laughed. "You and your fairytale romance."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Jay rolled his eyes. "We're talking about your love life, not mine. Don't change the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject!"

"You just did, like, two minutes ago." Jay grinned. "Anyway. I'll ask Lloyd and Nya in the morning, you talk to Ronin about R.E.X, and we'll all get going as soon as we can before you chicken out."

Cole rolled his eyes and stood up. "Okay. Sounds good to me. For now I'm going to go to bed."

"Yes you should. Go to bed, child; it's good for you."

"I'm older than you, Jay."

"Shush! Bedtime." Jay shooed him out the door. "Go!"

"Ha! Go back to your comics, child."

"I will, thank you."

Cole rolled his eyes. "I'll see you in the morning, Jay. Thanks for the pep talk."

"No problem." Jay pointed at him meaningfully. "Oh, and Cole? FYI, I'm going to get you back for tackling me. Not tonight, but I will."

"Sure you will. Tomorrow." Cole snickered. "See you in the morning."

"Yes, see you in the morning!"

Cole chuckled as he left, not looking back as he went back to bed. He wondered... was Jay right? Maybe seeing the ice caves really was how he'd get closure.

[c-atm]

Possessive Protection

Possessive Protection

“This...This is wrong…”

Connie whispered that to herself as she stepped back, fear and confusion on her face. Holding her broken arm.

“This is so wrong..”

In front of her stood a familiar face, body, build, and damaged attire; a familiar visage all around.

A usually heart-skipping, cheek redding visage. One of charm and a dapper style. A visage that haunted her dreams in the most pleasant ways..

This was not the same, nowhere near it.

Despite the form, the differences were far too prominent. It was ghastly, it’s ‘Steveny’ shape flickering like a flame, ready to burn everything and it was violet.

So violet and viscous.

The purple imposter didn’t look at her at all, his..

It’s attention on the bull-like demon who was slowly getting up after being rammed through a pillar by the purple devil.  

“That’s it, rise to your feet. Regenerative bastard”

 The slasher grin on his 'Steveny' face and the blow horn pitch put her on edge, as the Minotaur snarled towards the devil, fear in its throat as the purple devil gilded forward. With a roar, the Minotaur charged forward it’s  red eyes promising death, each step cracking the tiles underneath them.It stuck forward with a punch towards the devil, it’s fist as big as the devils skull.

On instinct, Connie was prepared to scream in concern.

Only for the sound of ripping flesh to steal that worry for his well-being and replace it with fear of his abilities, as the purple Steven tore the forearm of the minotaur from its body..Before knocking the minotaur across the skull and onto its face,in front of his feet

With said arm..

“Now, a lesson to share to those in hell “ The devil teased, before bringing the limb down the minotaur skull again, like a goddamn mallet. A sickening smash of flesh resounding in the concert hall. He lifted the limb high with a frown.

“Do not…"

and brought it down again…

"Ever.."

And again

"Touch what…"

and again

"Belongs to me!"

The violent, violet demon continued to crack the minotaur head with ruthless abandon, in a pure frenzy. Each strike harder than the last. Bone and smashed flesh scattered along the walls as he beat the long silenced monster. He didn't stop until he felt Connie grabbed his waist.

"Stop, Steven! Please!"

He looked back at her with a bit of a glare. 

"Steven?" He tossed the limb aside carelessly, allowing it and the Minotaur body to fade away in a black smoke leaving a gem.

His cold, slithering voice caused her to step back, chilling her heart. So different from the pleasing tone of her beloved partner.

 Facing him face to face, staring at his dead black eyes and dark purple pupils froze her spine and stole her breath.

"I guess that's not completely wrong."  He chuckled. Looking at her holding her arm, he stalked towards her.

"You're hurt, boon."

"Boon?" Connie inquired trying to push down her fear as she stepped back. She soon found herself between a pillar and the violet demon. She shivered as he moved his face close to her neck breathing in her fright with a teasing chuckle.

"Who are you?" 

He smirked at the steel in her voice. "Me?..I'm what 'he' hides from you, my boon." 

She trembled as he lifted his hand to her chin and ran his thumb across her bottom lip.

'So cold like the arctic, It feels as if I'll freeze to death staying by him.'

She moved her face away from his grip, sneering at the doppleganger. "What do you mean, 'you are what he hides?' "

His eyes narrowed as he gripped her chin tightly. "Hey now, You should be appreciative to me, fledgling. I did save your ass…" He smirked as he looked her up and down, lingering at her hips a bit. "Cute as it is."

*WHAP!* 

The sound of Connie slapping the demon reverberated against the hall.

"Disgusting Demon!" She roared, her eyes blazing in anger. "I don't know who you think you are to speak to me like that, but you are NOT MY STEVEN!"

He laughed cruelly but respectfully, licking the blood off his lip.  "Ooh, I understand why he's so taken with you .That beautiful blazing spirit to match that body….You're definitely worthy to be my boon." Giving her a hungry grin, he kissed her deeply.

Connie screamed through the kiss before pushing the purple beast back with both arms.  

"Bastard!" She swung a fist at the devil who dodged the blow. She attacked again with her left, recently healed, fist only to have him  grab her hand and pull her close 

Black eyes met violet, fiery rage met possessive obsession.

"Is that how you treat someone who healed you? That's fine, it makes me want you m-"

The purple demon voice started to strain as he backed up. Pain on his face as his hands gripped his head and the purple began to flicker and dim.

"HOW DARE YOU!?" The familiar voice of the Steven she knew, ranged out of the demon. "YOU DARE TO DISRESPECT HER!?" 

"I protected and healed her in your stead HUMAN! HOW I take my reward from my boon, my property, is my business...Besides it's not like you don't feel the same way!." 

Connie could only watch shocked, fear and embarrassment on her face as the purple demon fell to the floor on all fours, clawing at the marble scarring it like a jagged knife as he argued in agonizing pain with himself.

"SHUT UP!"

"It's true!!"

"Get out!!"

"You lust for her!"

"I SAID LEAVE, VIOLET!"

Connie covered her mouth as she watched Steven lift his head and thundered out as he clawed his face, ripping the purple flame off his visage and tossing it to the side. 

"S-S-Steven?" Connie cautioned as she took a step forward,  seeing him back to normal, breathing hard on all fours, quivering a bit.

"My..My lady." 

That voice as tired and broken as it was shook her heart as it always did...Connie took a step forward only for Steven to raise his hand.

"Hold on, My lady." Steven grunted as he turned to the purple flames watching it form to a ghostly purple spectre of himself. 

"Violet." His voice was full of hate as he stood in front of Connie protectively. 

“Steven" Violet responded as his translucent and ghostly figure  floated in place, a smirk on his face. "What do you think you're doing?" He pointed his finger tauntingly. “I know you don't think you're gonna keep me from My Boon in some misguided act of protecting her."

"There's nothing misguided about keeping My Lady safe...Especially from the likes of you."  Steven stood in a low stance, his hands in front of his chest in a clawed stance. 

"Don't you mean...'Likes of ME?" Violet grinned, his purple eyes staring straight into Steven's pink ones, before taking one glance at the witch among them. "We're one in the same, My boon."

"Stop talking to.."

"Are you serious?" Connie watched Steven's shoulder tensed ever so lightly. "Steven?"

"I'm his truest, darkest feelings made sentient and given form...You can call me Violet, My Boon."

"SHE ISN'T YOUR BOON!!"

"But she's your 'Lady'? Possessive, aren't we…"

Steven growled ready to strike, when a calming hand rested on his shoulder.

"Steven…"

Steven turned to look at Connie, a flash of shame in his eyes, before turning forward. He breathed deeply and relaxed his stance. "Come on Violet, enough playing." His glare stood as he held out his hand.

Violet kissed his teeth."'What do you mean? No games are being played."

"What's your objective here then, What are you trying to accomplish?"

"....You are useless..as a familiar" Violet growled " You fail at protecting our possession far too often., I refuse to trust you with My boon…:

Steven didn't say anything in response. His fist clenched in anger as his other words hit his heart.

"He protects me just fine, Monster." Connie spoke from behind her Steven, staring defiant at Violet as she stood beside her partner

"As long as I'm present, yes." Violet retorted " All those victories, all those rescues..They could have never been achieved without darker designs. Without me being present, Boon."

"I'm just as capable without you." Steven answered as he cracked his fingers.

"Allowing something to break our things shows capability?!" 

"How about you stop talking as If I’m an object." Connie Intervened, the crest on her wrist glowing. 

"You are!" Violet barked "You are my Boon, Meant to benefit me and enrich my life for my protection power and service.. That's the basis of our contract.!"

"Is that so." She smirked as she thought of what Violet just stated. "Then fulfill your part of the deal Violet and heed my command. RETURN TO STEVEN!"

Before Violet could fathom what was going on, he found himself being pulled towards his more benevolent half. He couldn't  fight it for long at all.. Her command was absolute and felt the need to see it through right down to his core..The need to get her favor.

He hated it, the feeling of being controlled even by her, the lack of freedom annoyed him. At the same time, it made Violet that more obsessive over his boon. Unlike Steven, who wants an equal love with the witch, he would be happy with her completely submitting to him, to stay untainted by unworthy hands. 

To remain his Boon and only touched by him.

"Remember,..I AM HIS THOUGHTS GIVEN FORM, MY BOON! EVERYTHING I SAID. EVERYTHING I DID. HE HAS THE SAME CAPACITY AS WELL!"

Violet gave a howling laugh as he was pulled towards Steven fading out of sight. 

Steven grunted and shook his head, the feeling of rejoining with Violet in such away was a new experience, a worryingly one as well. His confrontations with Violet had never been in the waking world until now. He didn't  have time to think it over as He felt two arms wrapped around him and a head on his chest. 

" My. My lady-I-"

"You're warm.." She gripped the back of his ripped shirt and smothered her face in his mid. "Stars above, you're so warm….It's a lively warmth." 

Steven could only hold her back as she began to quiver and his shirt began to dampen.

[zxanthe]

jealousy

for @soulxmakaweek day 3: jealousy

also available on ao3 and ff.net

side note: The Soul Eater manga was first released in 2004.

It isn’t that Soul is jealous, exactly.

Maka is, beneath the know-it-all and vaguely homicidal exterior, a kind person. It’s one of the things he likes most about her. He remembers the first time he played the piano for her – it feels like a lifetime ago, now – how she’d smiled and clapped after he finished, even though he knew she didn’t get it, really. But the wonder sparkling there in her green eyes, the open and gut-wrenching genuineness of the delight and enjoyment brazenly plastered on her face – no one had ever looked at him like that in his whole entire life, and even though he didn’t let it show he knew right then and there he’d follow this girl to the ends of the earth if she asked him to.

When she enfolds Crona in an embrace instead of dealing a killing blow, he doesn’t bother trying to keep the fond smile off his face, because that’s so typical of her. Always taking in strays.

So that’s why he wonders if it’s the madness, not just in him but in the world now that the Kishin Asura is free and raging, that makes a hard knot of something nagging and awful weigh in his chest like a stone when he sees Maka and Crona together. The Little Demon doesn’t help at all, always whispering ugly little nothings in the quiet in-between moments when he’s brushing his teeth or picking at the guitar he keeps on the wall of his room, things like she only cares about your weapon form you know and she loves them more than she ever loved you and (worst of all) she’s going to realize who you are and leave.

(It’s not like he isn’t used to people leaving. His father left him in all but name, preferring to shut himself up in his studio rather than deal with his children. His brother left him to go to college and make a name for himself. His grandmother left the planet entirely, going wherever dead people go.)

But he knows, deep down in his gut, that Maka isn’t like that. She takes her commitments seriously. She’s his meister, and he’s her weapon. He has to trust her. Has to trust that she wouldn’t leave him unless something bad happened. Something really, really bad.

Like a new best friend? the demon whispers, not bothering to hide the malicious glee in his voice. Soul just grits his teeth and tells him to shut the fuck up.

(He doesn’t want to resent either of them, despite the demon’s urgings and his own idiot, uncool feelings.)

But he can’t deny the reality - it feels like she spends more time with Crona than him nowadays. Soul isn’t exactly averse to that, but it still rankles, because Maka used to spend most of her time with him, or at least around him. But the kid’s had a hard life, harder than his by a long shot, and someone like Maka is good for them. In the short time they’ve been at the DWMA, Soul’s noticed them coming out of their shell a little more each day. It makes him wonder if he was something like that when he first arrived, fresh from New York, a fish out of water.

So that’s why, when Maka invites Crona over for a movie night one Friday after classes, he doesn’t object, despite the way his chest tightens a little.

“I-is that okay?” Crona asks, darting nervous glances towards Soul, who’s standing a little ways behind Maka. He doesn’t really know Crona all that well yet. The sentiment is mutual. Soul cringes inwardly, equal parts ashamed and nervous and just a little satisfied, damn it damn it not cool at all!

“’Course it is,” Soul makes himself say, and hopes that nobody notices the way his voice threatens to crack. “It’s Maka’s turn to cook, though, so you might wanna, uh. Eat beforehand.”

Maka rounds on him, her green eyes narrowed. “At least I don’t burn freaking rice!”

“Yeah, yeah, I was making a joke. Is that a crime?”

“Well, it wasn’t very funny.” She turns back to Crona with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, tonight at 7 sound good? We can meet you at the Skullbuster.”

“Um…will there be many other p-people there? Besides you and…S-Soul?”

Maka shakes her head and smiles reassuringly. “No, don’t worry. I know large get-togethers still stress you out. It’ll just be us three.”

Crona darts one more glance at Soul. He’d smile, but his face feels like wood and his teeth would probably scare the kid half to death. He settles for a nod instead. One cool guy to another. Crona smiles hesitantly. “Yeah. That s-sounds great.”

“You good?” Maka asks him, once they’re outside the school and have said their goodbyes to their friends.

He shoots her a questioning look. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You just felt a little off earlier, that’s all,” she says.

Damn her and her soul perception. Soul just shakes his head. “Maybe your soul perception is just malfunctioning.”

She whaps him with the paperback she’s carrying in her hand. “Rude!”

“Ow, fuck you too!”

They walk down to the Skullbuster after Maka finishes cooking, leaving a plate of brownies cooling on the counter and a foil tray of mac n’ cheese being kept warm in the oven. Soul doesn’t think he’ll ever get over their whacko naming conventions in Death City – did they really have to replace the classic Blockbuster logo with a lurid blue and yellow skull biting a movie ticket with its cartoonishly sharp teeth? No, no they didn’t, but they did anyway, so here they fucking are. Soul shoots it a cautious look – it’s definitely more interesting than the usual, all things considered. Crona’s already waiting for them directly beneath the sign, a tall slim figure in their black – robe? Dress? Soul still isn’t sure what to make of it. He raises his hand in a wave as Maka calls out a greeting and bounds over to give them a hug. Soul ignores the twinge in his chest, gritting his teeth at the echo of laughter he hears from the demon.

Crona still looks spooked at the contact, but at least they raise their arms and pat her awkwardly on the back this time. Progress. Soul offers them a fist. Crona looks at it uncomprehendingly.

“Fistbump,” says Soul. Jesus, poor kid. “You make your hand into a fist – yeah, like that, now tap it with mine.”

Crona does so, feather-light and hesitant. Soul offers them a smile and then withdraws his fist, wiggling his fingers as he does so. Crona imitates him, awkwardly and with a slight frown.

“See, easy,” says Soul, cringing inwardly. He shouldn’t have done the finger wiggle, dammit, Crona wouldn’t get it and it just made them feel weird, ugh, why is he like this?

Maka, meanwhile, is smiling at the display. She reaches for Crona’s hand, easily, naturally, and leads them into the store. Soul trails after them, trying valiantly to ignore the way the knot in his chest aches.

“So, whatcha wanna watch?” Maka asks Crona, whose eyes widen in fear in the face of making an evening-altering decision.

“It’s okay,” says Maka gently. “Soul and I are fine with whatever you pick, right Soul?”

“Yeah,” Soul says, though secretly he’s hoping that Crona doesn’t pick a kids’ movie or a rom-com or something boring like that. He’d probably end up falling asleep, and then Maka’d get pissed at him, and he’d probably be woken up by a hardcover to the head.

“Take your time!” says Maka. “Dinner’s already ready, we’re in no rush.”

Crona nods but seems content to follow Maka around the store as she drifts from section to section. They gently shake their head at all the titles Maka holds up – mostly cheesy feel-good flicks or (dammit Maka) live-action Disney movies. Soul’s eye is caught by the horror section, and after a quick glance at the other two he drifts towards it. There’s a lot of DVDs on the shelves – they really need to get a DVD player, this is ridiculous – but there’s still plenty of VHS tapes. He hunkers down into a squat, examining some more recent titles, when Crona’s voice comes from above him, startling him in its proximity.

“How about that one?” they ask, and Soul looks up to see them holding a notoriously gory and barf-inducing horror film. Soul hasn’t seen it personally, but he’s heard the stories.

Soul quirks an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” he asks, at the same time that Maka says “Uh, I’m not sure you’d like it very much…”

“I want this one,” Crona says, a note of certainty in their voice. Soul suppresses a grin, seeing Crona in a new light. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

They pick out two other movies, an action flick and some kind of weird documentary (palate cleansers, Soul thinks), before heading back to the apartment. Ragnarok erupts from Crona’s back at the mention of dinner and is only kept from devouring both his and his meister’s share by Maka angrily wielding her heaviest dictionary. They don’t talk much because everyone’s too busy eating. Soul won’t admit it, but Maka makes a mean mac n’ cheese. Even Crona goes back for seconds. Afterwards Maka grabs the plate of brownies and they all drift into the living room and settle on the couch, Maka in the middle.

“Oh, damn!” Maka exclaims as soon as her butt touches the cushions. “I forgot to get popcorn! I’m going to run down to the convenience store – don’t you dare eat all those brownies, Ragnarok, or I will kill you!”

The door slams shut. “Stupid bitch,” Ragnarok mutters, and starts hassling Crona for a brownie. Crona, surprisingly, holds their ground, and eventually Ragnarok subsides back into Crona, grousing all the while.

The apartment is suddenly too quiet. Blair is out, Soul thinks, glancing around in mild panic. Crona doesn’t say anything.

Put them in their place, the demon growls. Soul clenches his hand into a fist, nails digging into the skin of his palm.

“So, uh,” Soul begins, and then stops, because he has no idea where he’s going with this. He shoots a quick glance at Crona. They’re not looking at him, and instead are pressed against the hard metal arm of the sofa.

Something in Soul softens. “Hey,” he tries again. Crona’s eyes dart to his before flitting back to their lap. Inwardly, Soul grimaces. He’s never been the best at talking to people or making friends, not like Maka. “Uh, did you manage to get all your homework done today?”

Ugh. Lame, stupid, uncool!

“N-no,” says Crona softly.

“Eh, no biggie,” Soul says, trying for jocular and coming out strained. “You’ve still got a whole weekend.”

Silence falls again. The remote is on the coffee table, beside the brownies. Soul wonders if he should grab it and turn on the TV. Something, anything to diffuse this awkwardness. Soul notices out of the corner of his eye that Crona keeps glancing at him now, like they want to say something but can’t quite manage it. Soul sucks on his bottom lip. Maybe he should –

“Do you hate me?” Crona blurts.

Soul flinches, startled and ashamed in equal measure. “No, why would I,” he says, before his brain catches up with his mouth and he looks down at his chest, at the scar covered by the soft cotton of his t-shirt. It’s still a bit pink and raw, and it aches if he stretches his torso too much in any direction. He looks at Crona. “No,” he repeats, quieter this time.

Crona stares at him uncomprehendingly. “B-but I…” They make a slashing motion. Their hand is trembling slightly, Soul notes.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “And I’d do it all over again.” He smiles, and it’s more genuine than any he’s given Crona thus far. “That shit’s in the past. You’re here now, and you’re trying to be better. It’s the soul that counts, y’know?”

“S-so…you don’t hate me?”

“Not at all,” Soul says. “I’m a lot like you, actually. People scare me too.”

Crona blinks. “R-really?”

Soul nods. “Yeah. I used to live in New York. When I first got off the plane I was scared shitless, didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. And now I feel more at home here than I ever did there.”

They’re listening raptly, and when Soul finishes, they swallow. “How…how did you…stop being scared?”

“I never did. But Maka and Black Star and the others are a big help.” He chuckles fondly. He feels lighter. The demon is quiet. “It’s what friends are for.”

When Maka comes back, Soul and Crona are chatting easily and munching on brownies. They greet her and she smiles, evidently happy that they’re getting along. When she returns from the kitchen with an overflowing bowl of popcorn, Crona shifts so that they’re sitting in the middle of Maka and Soul. Ragnarok emerges to gorge himself on popcorn and brownies while Soul pops the horror tape in the VHS.

The movie is so gory that it makes even Soul and Maka’s battle-hardened stomachs turn, but Crona and Ragnarok seem to be enjoying themselves. They make it through the documentary and about one-third of the action flick before Crona falls asleep on Soul’s shoulder.

“They seem like they’ve really warmed up to you,” Maka says quietly over Crona’s head. “What did you guys talk about when I was gone?”

Soul shrugs. “Nothing much, really.”

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

Maka just shakes her head and smiles.

[britishboystm]

American Girl Pt. 2 (18+)

Warnings: Smut, Drug Use, Alchol, Violence, Swearing

A/N: I know it’s sort of weird that I do it from Matthews pov but I wanted to stay true to the book and see how it turned out. Might be really weird but idk I like it.

Part 1

———

I didn’t really have plans for the day. Last night had sort of put me off of the boys so I decided it was better to be alone. No distractions, just my own thoughts to carry me through the morning, afternoon and night. I didn’t mind really, just had to figure out where the day would take me.

After I had eaten as well as ignored my parents and their cries of worry for my future, I packed up a couple beers and a baggy of hash to keep me afloat.

A true survival kit.

Once I had left and was on my way, I found myself getting on the DART to uptown. I don’t know what I was looking for but I went anyway.

The sidewalks seemed just a tad more clean and the streets were peaceful. These were things I hadn’t noticed the first time around. All thanks to Kearney.

I was in my own head for a while but my body stopped me. I look up to see the oh so familiar house. This time I was able to properly look at the detailing. The house itself was a nice light blue with white trimming and a big open lawn out front. Sure beat my boring, brown square of a place.

I stood for a while just looking, as though I was expecting something exciting to happen. I stood a little longer and then the door flew open and a group of girls came pouring out laughing about something. Then almost like the parting seas, she came out at the very end, half listening to the story being told by one of the blondes of the group and closes the door behind her. She seemed slightly out of it. It was obvious she didn’t really care for the conversation. Her eyes scan her front yard before they land on me. I stayed glued where I was standing. I had no desire to move.

“Give me a second guys.” She calls out to her friends who were already heading to the car. They all stopped talking and looked at her then me. Some of them gave looks of disapproval and some smirked. They all knew my friend group's reputation. We didn’t mix well with them really.

She runs down the steps and I can’t help but see her move in slow motion, almost like a cliche romance movie.

“Aren’t you one of the ass hats that were yelling out front yesterday?” I snap out of it and look down at my shoes in embarrassment.

“Well to be fair I wasn’t the one doing the yelling.”

“Right.”

“Um I was actually just walking around and I happened to walk by your house. You went to my school right?”

“Possibly.” She was playing with me, a smirk on her face.

“So what’s your name.” I had to know her name.

“Y/N. You?” I thought for a moment. Saying her name over and over again in my head.

“Matthew.” I awkwardly put my hand out to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you Matthew.” I just continue to shake her hand before she giggles and retracts from the awkward action.

“Um I have to go but I’m throwing a school end party tonight. You and your friends should come. I’m counting on you to keep the raughty one in check though.” She laughs.

“Sure I’ll run it by them.” Lies. I wasn’t going to say jack shit. Keanrey has been pissing me off lately and Rez was also in a weird mood the day before.

“Cool. I’ll see you tonight then?” She seemed genuinely happy that I was going to show up. At least I hope that was the reason for the big smile on her face.

“Yeah see you later.” She nods and walks off to meet up with her friends. With one glance back at me she got into the passenger seat of the car and drove off to god knows where.

It was going to be my mission to talk to her tonight.

“Ass hat?” I mouthed to myself. I had never heard that one before.

———

I decided to head home for a while to get ready. I wasn’t one to care about the way I look and I didn’t usually try this hard for any girl. But there was just something different about Y/N. She weirdly enough made me want to look somewhat presentable. So after an hour of looking for what to wear I just decided on a semi clean t shirt and jeans, also putting on my most well kept shoes.

I stashed away any type of pill I could find laying around my room, hash and a bottle of vodka.

Keanrey had asked me to hang out earlier but I said no. I also didn’t tell him where I was going. I’m sure he knew about the party but we always crashed parties together so if I wasn’t around he wouldn’t bother trying.

Nerves were settling in as I took a couple shots outside my house door. I needed to loosen up.

The ride over was not too bad, the vodka was taking its course and I felt a little more at ease compared to when I left the house. But once I got off and started to walk up to the house, the stress set in again. I could hear edm pounding and flashing lights started to come into view.

As I fully approached the house I noticed that this was nothing I had ever imagined. It looked like it came straight out of a Hollywood movie. Y/N clearly knew how to throw a party

I take a deep breath and make my way inside, tons of people I knew from school stopped to give me nasty looks.

I then saw my cousin who was talking with a couple friends. We weren’t super close but she was at least someone I knew.

“Sarah!” I call out. She turns from her friends and notices me. She gives a small smile before excusing herself.

“Matthew. Just got here and already look like shit. What’s new?” I roll my eyes.

“I’ll have you know I actually tried to look presentable tonight. I’m here for Y/N.”

“Aw how cute. I actually haven’t seen her around so I don’t know where she could be.”

“Hey!” We both look over to see an angry looking dude storming over towards us. I frown before he pushes Sarah out of the way and stares me down.

“Making moves on my woman?” He was fuming, nostrils flared. I definitely didn’t want to mess with him.

“Huh?” I was still slightly drunk so I was confused as well as scared shiftless.

“Trying to fuck my girl mate?” I couldn’t even speak a word before he raises a fist and whaps me straight in the nose. I fall back onto the floor and grab my nose in pain.

“Conor what the fuck that’s my fucking cousin.” His eyes go wide.

“Oh, I’m sorry Sarah I didn’t me-“

“You always do this.” She yells at him before quickly bending down.

“Matthew are you okay?” I’m still seeing two.

Then an angel stood above me as well. A look of worry on her face as she leans forward to inspect me closer.

“I’ll deal with it Sarah, go manage your mammoth of a boyfriend.” She nods then looks down again.

“Sorry Matthew.” Her voice held a sense of shame. Then she walks off, leaving me and the angel.

“Matthew? Can you hear me?”

“Uh huh.” I respond.

“Jesus your nose is bleeding. Let’s go upstairs okay?” She lifts up my dead body weight and with the help of another party goer gets me into her bedroom. She got me onto the bed and I couldn’t help what I said next.

“If you wanted to get me into bed you could have just asked.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

———

“You’re a real dumb ass, you know that?” She slightly snickered as she dabbed the cold wet cloth against my bleeding nostril. I took this opportunity to stare at her.

“What?” She giggles.

“Nothing. You’re just really pretty is all.” Hopefully my tipsy Irish charm would do the trick. After all, she was the only reason I showed up to this party in the first place.

She blushes slightly, before removing the cloth and tossing it into an empty corner of her room.

“Alright mister I think you need some rest. You can sleep in here tonight, get that head cleared up.” She ruffles my hair before lightly pushing me down onto the mattress and then getting up to leave.

“Wait where are you going?” I pouted slightly, hoping she would take pity on me. I probably looked like an absolute arse but I didn’t care.

“I’m going back downstairs. Can’t leave my guests without a host, now can I?”

“Just a little longer, I have a blunt we can share.” I pull the rolled paper out of my pocket, using it as a last resort for her to stay.

“As tempting as that sounds, I don’t drink or smoke.” I racked my brain a bit more to try and figure out a way to stay. It didn’t make sense that she would throw a party with everything she just said she didn’t partake in. I didn’t question it though.

“Don’t leave me.” I was fully desperate at this point. I would kill just to talk to her. Once I said those words, I noticed a change in her demeanor.

“Fine, I can’t stay too long though.” She absently mindfully crawled onto the bed to sit beside me, my fucked up brain sexualizing the act.

She then looked down at the blunt signaling for me to spark it up.

“Aren’t you going to light it?” She asked, shifting her gaze between my eyes and the blunt.

“I thought you didn’t smoke.”

“I don’t.” She gave me a light smile but all I could do was stare. There was a weird vibe about her. Not a bad vibe, far from it actually. I’d like to believe that it was purely because she had a different cultural outlook. She didn’t grow up in a two story home with two Irish catholic parents. Where everything was black or white. There was some grey in her, a mysterious side. A freedom in her eyes that made my chest tighten.

“Right.” I shake my thoughts away and pull out a lighter.

“Wait a sec.” She quickly stops me and rolls over my lap to go open a window. Once again, her actions had me straining against my relaxed fitted jeans.

“Don’t want it wafting for the next week.” I nod and go back lighting it up. I inhale and let out a big puff, secretly hoping that she would find it attractive. She wasn’t even looking though. She had moved to her stereo to turn on The Smiths.

“Alright then, pass it.” She gently takes it from my finger and places it between her lips. It seemed as though she had a similar technique as me, trying to look all sexy while she blew it back out.

It worked.

As much as she would like people to believe she wasn’t a smoker, this clearly wasn’t the first time she had done it. My previous perception of a goody two shoes, honours list, daddy’s little girl mentality fizzled away.

“What?” I hadn’t realized I was staring again.

“Are you sure you’ve never smoked before?” She shrugs and leans against the headboard, our shoulder touching and our legs stretched out and crossed in front of us.

We sat there for a good ten minutes talking about everything and nothing. We talked about how she had a Irish father who moved to America and met her mom there. They got married and stayed in America, then when her father got a job offer here in Dublin a couple years back so they moved.

“So your half Irish, what’s the other half?” She giggles at me. I didn’t think it was that funny. Maybe it was the hash starting to set in.

“American you idiot.”

“No, no I know but, what’s your family background.”

“Well I’m technically Italian American on my moms side. The whole big family situation with a nonna and nonno. Hundred and hundreds of cousins, aunts and uncles. It’s pretty crazy so being here in Dublin is really different.”

I laughed slightly resting my head on her wall. The nice buzz taking over my system.

“I wish I was close with my grandparents or even my parents.”

She nods and turns her head to look at me.

“I guess it’s nice.” There was silence as I caught her gaze. We were both stoned and sleepy and there was very little judgment with the staring, now that we were all happy and light.

I took a bullet and grabbed her face, bringing her in for a deep kiss. She quickly put her hands over mine, clearly thinking the same thing. My shoulders relaxed, no longer having to worry about what she thought of me. It was obvious now.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you.” I panted as I laid my forehead on hers. She bit her lip and closed the space between us once more.

Her lips were so soft that I couldn’t help but push my mouth harder onto hers, it just felt that good. Finally being able to physically hold and touch her was like a dream.

It was as though she read my mind because she pulls off her tank top and grabs my arms so I end up on top of her.

We continue to kiss and I put one hand beside her head, the other holding her jaw. She notices my growing bulge sitting against her stomach and she sits up on to her elbows.

“I barely know you.” She says. Her words said one thing but her face and rising chest said another. She looked like a goddess with her light pink lipstick smeared on her lips and lower face, her eyes slightly red from us smoking. If I died with this being my last image I would be a happy man.

“Fuck it.” She mutters quickly before her lips smash against mine again and she pulls off my t-shirt. It’s all teeth and wet lips. Moans emit from both of us and I finally take my pants off leaving me in nothing but my boxers.

“You’re really gorgeous.” I say as I lace my fingers with hers and placing her arms above her head.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” She smirks.

I smile back and quickly lean down to kiss her.

“What other girls?” I smirk and she lets out a sarcastic chuckle at my cheekiness.

“I need to warn you though. I’ve never done anything like this before.” I sit up and place and place a hand on her shoulder in a comforting way, to tell her she was safe with me.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” I didn’t beat around the bush. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable. I’ve seen Keanrey enough times to know how to properly treat a girl.

“Matthew, I can safely say that I find you very attractive and I infact want to have sex with you.” We both couldn’t keep a straight face in our hazing state, letting out laughs at our overly formal way of speaking.

“Ok then.” I smirk before I lean in.

“Wait.” She pushes my lips away with her finger and begins to go under the sheets. She scrambles around down there, probably removing her the rest of her clothes.

Out of nowhere I feel her lips circle around my length and I lurch forward a bit, a loud groan of surprise leaving my lips.

“Holy shit.” I sputter out and my eyes go wide, my voice going an octave higher than normal. She keeps moving up and down my length, each vein being tended to by her tongue. I lay my head back onto her pillow which smelled of fresh lavender.

I grip the sheets and I couldn’t help but think about the night before. This was all that I envisioned, just a billion times better.

“Y/N?” I weakly ask through my moans.

“Mhmh?” She responds, my dick still in her mouth.

“Your mouth feels amazing.” She lets go with a pop and lifts the sheets with a wide prideful smile.

“I know.” I sit up and grab her face, crashing her lips on mine.

“You're so hot.” I say as she bites her lip.

“Yeah?” She asks, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“Uh huh.” I nod and lean in for one more kiss.

“I really just want to fuck you right now.” I say with heaving breathing.

“What are you waiting for?” She jokes and I smile in return before shifting so she is under me. This way I could finally see her breasts which makes my member stir again.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” I say before leaning in to take a nipple into my mouth, sucking softly,

“Oh Matthew.” Listening to her moan out my name causes my stomach to flip and I can’t help but grab my shaft and lean it against her drenched centre.

“Can I?” I had lifted myself slightly so I could see her face again.

“Always.” She whispers and with that I slowly enter her. She was so tight to the point that I felt like crying from the pleasure.

“Oh my god. I’m not going to last long.” I sputter out.

“Me neither. Now fucking move.” Listening to her be so demanding gets me thrusting in and out of her. Her soft little mewls and encouragements make me speed up and she digs her nails into my back as I continue my movements. Without any warning she spreads her legs more and hooks them around my torso, using her heels to push me in deeper. We both moan out with the new angel I was driving at. I sped up to the point that the only sounds we could hear was skin against skin and my grunts and her moans. I place a searing kiss onto her jaw and she grips onto me tighter.

“Cum.” I whisper as I start to circle her clit quickly. Her legs then begin to shake and her eyes roll back. Her back arches off of the bed. Her face contorted in pleasure which made me reach orgasm as well and we both rode them out until there was nothing left to give.

I slump down beside her and she cuddles into my chest.

“I should check on everyone.” She mutters and I groan, not ready for her body heat to disappear.

She slips out of bed and walks over to grab her clothes. She bends over and I get a perfect view of her ass. Now I had the biggest pleasure of knowing what it looked like under those jeans of hers. I bite my lip and smirk. She quickly turns her head around and smirks back.

What?” She asks.

“You can’t do that and expect me to be done with you.” I jump up and hook an arm around her waist pulling her back into bed. She lets out a screech and giggle as I pull her on top of me.

We were far from done.

[labyrinth-runner]

oop ok abby can i please get more to pirate!obi finding reader in the brig & bringing her onboard? you've honestly given me serotonin from your answer haha love you!

Kara, because I love you, I did this a day earlier that I had planned.

As of rn. This doesn’t have a formal name

Gif from:https://thecl0newars.tumblr.com/post/619119447899357184/obi-wan-kenobi-that-thing-he-does-i-love-him

Scenario: Based off this ask Kara sent me earlier this week. ALSO PLEASE COME TO ME FOR PIRATE!OBI Y’ALL  

Word count: Little under 1700

No Warnings

Obi-Wan smirked as he swung from his ship to the one they were boarding. The dread pirate Hondo had been terrorizing these seas for so long. Obi-Wan was going to take back what was rightfully his, specifically a compass that would lead him to his heart’s desire. He had lost it after a drunken night of poker. By the time he woke from his drunken stupor, Hondo, his pants, and his compass were gone. Talk about getting fleeced. He’d been tracking Hondo ever since, determined to take back what was rightfully his. He’d finally caught up with him in the Corellian sea. The sea battle had been fairly limited, and now they had attached grappling hooks to board. There was always a sense of excitement in the air as he swung from his territory onto someone else’s. His men were diving into the battle, which was good. They’d distract the crew long enough for him to find what he needed and get out of there. He tried not to tangle with other pirates, you know, the Code and all. He did have some honor… for a pirate.

He snuck his way through the battles, delivering blows here and there as he needed to clear his path. Eventually he made it to the Captain’s quarters. He found it surprisingly empty. He assumed Hondo must be engaged elsewhere. Swiftly, he searched for his compass, eventually finding it in the man’s desk with other broken objects.

“Oh, Hondo, you never were very good at determining something’s worth if it had no monetary value,” he smirked. He tossed the compass in the air before catching it and tucking it into his pocket. “Now, time for some fun.”

Obi-Wan dashed into the fray, sword a-swinging. For all his grandeur, he really was one of the best swordsmen to sail the seas. It was almost second nature to him, his sword an extension of his arm. He made his way around the ship until he heard banging coming from down below.

“Skywalker, cover me!” He yelled to his first mate as he went down below. Below decks was empty of pirates, but he heard clanging, as if metal were striking metal. Odd, he thought, but then he saw you.

You were so thoroughly done with pirates at this point. You’d been captured by Hondo a few ports ago. Apparently he thought he could sell you to some wealthy dignitary, but you had been too much of a handful. That was how you found yourself bound, gagged, and placed in a cell. You had been stripped down to your knickers, Hondo figuring that at least your clothes had value, even if you didn’t. His intention was to maroon you on the next island he found. Instead, you were praying to the maker that you weren’t hit by a stray cannonball as you saw them cut through the hull of the ship around you like nothing. You wondered if perhaps you were being rescued by the royal navy. Oh yes, that would be wonderful. Surely your father’s friend, Admiral Yularen, would be a sight for sore eyes. You found the metal water cup in your cell and started to bang it over the bars to attract attention. You cried out, voice muffled by the gag of course, when you heard footsteps approach.

This was it. This was your savior!

This… was another bloody pirate.

Who was continuing to come your way, while staring at you. Lovely, you thought, he clearly has no manners.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he smiled, leaning against the bars. He reached through to tilt your chin up. “It appears there’s a little bird in a cage. Would you like to be set free?”

You closed your eyes. Go with this pirate who at least wants to free you for some reason, or stay here with Hondo and be marooned? Well, there was not much of a choice to be made. You nodded.

“Alright, then,” he nodded back. He found the keys over on the peg across the room and unlocked the door. Without warning, he hoisted you over his shoulder. You let out an indignant sound as you started to hit his back. How dare this ruffian man handle you? You tried to yell at him to put you down! However, nothing resembling words could be heard around the gag.

He playfully whapped your butt with the broad side of his sword.

“Careful, Lass, wouldn’t want to make me drop you,” he replied. You could tell by the tone that he had a smug grin on his face as he took you up the stairs and back into the midst of the on-going battle. He took hold of a piece of rope, wrapping it around his hand as he stood on the edge of the ship.

“Ehhhh, Kenobi! What are you doing with my prisoner?!” Hondo called out after him. He turned to face Hondo and gave him a little salute.

“Finders Keepers, mate! You know the rules!” He yelled back before swinging back towards the Negotiator.

He unceremoniously dropped you on the ground.

“Alright, men, fall back or fall behind!” He yelled as he started to cut the grappling hooks free with a smirk. The ship lurched forward, already sailing away from the battle.

You heard footfalls as the men landed back on the ship. You were surrounded, and suddenly very nervous as they leered at you. A man with longer hair that the others came up to you, spinning you around to get a better look.

He let out a whistle. “I wasn’t aware we were taking treasure, Captain.”

You scoffed.

“She’s a woman, Skywalker, not a prize to be won or stolen. Never joke about a lady’s heart. The only way you can get that is if you earn it, and if you do, well… you best be treasuring it,” Obi-Wan replied, strolling back over to untie all your bindings.

“What are you to do with me?” You asked.

“Nothing yet, Lass,” Captain Kenobi smiled. “What happens next is up to you.”

He nodded to Anakin who proceeded to place a plank down on the deck, half over the water. Your eyes widened.

“What’s that for?”

“For you. You can either join my merry band of men or you can walk the plank. It’s bad luck to have a woman aboard, and I’m not entirely fond of dead weight, am I boys?” He called out to the crew.

They responded with a cheer. You swallowed. Well, you weren’t just about to jump off a ship after being rescued from another. That would just be foolish. But, you still felt the need to ask. “Why save me if you were just going to throw me overboard?”

“Ah-ah, darling,” he said, wagging his finger at you, “I’m not throwing you overboard. I’m giving you a choice, something that Hondo didn’t. Now, lass, what’ll it be?”

“Well, clearly I’ll join the crew. I don’t have a death wish,” you replied.

“Good. Although, you’ll have to find a change of clothes. Walking around in your underwear is rather distracting and affects the work quality of my crew,” he smirked, earning a bunch of wolf whistles from the crew. Captain Kenobi offered you his hand. “Come with me.”

You cautiously placed your hand in his, following him into his cabin. He dug around in a chest, presenting you with a baggy pair of red and white striped pants, a belt, and a billowy pirate shirt before shoving you behind his changing screen. You swiftly dressed before stepping back out into the room. You smirked, seeing his eyes widen and a slight blush creep up on his cheeks above his beard.

“Like what you see?” You purred.

“Be careful about stoking fires around here, little one, you’ll set the boat ablaze and be trapped on it,” he winked.

“Some like it hot,” you smiled back.

He chuckled, “I think I’ll enjoy having you around, lass. Now, you’re free to go where you like. I’m needed above deck.” He whipped out a compass from his pocket, smiling at it before leaving the cabin. You followed him out, walking to the bow as he walked to the stern. You leaned over the edge, noticing a figurehead there. You almost did a double-take looking at it.

“Admiring the view?” The first mate, Skywalker, asked.

“She’s beautiful,” you murmured, looking at the carved woman.

“Aye, that she is,” he said, a weird look on his face. “Looks a bit familiar, don’t you think?”

You tilted your head, leaning out a bit further to get a better look. She looked like you. “Who’s it modeled after?”

“That’s the thing,” Anakin said, “Obi-Wan, the Captain, doesn’t know. He had it commissioned based off a sketch of his soulmate that he got from some fortuneteller after they hooked up on the island Mandalore.”

“Is that so?” you murmured.

“Land ho!” A voice shouted from the crow’s nest. The crew around you, once idle, now began to work in a fury, readying to dock at the island coming up on the horizon. This could be your chance to find your way back home. You looked down at the ring your fiancé, Rush Clovis, had given you. You’d hidden it away in your clothes so that Hondo wouldn’t take it. Your life with him would have been comfortable, yes, but that wasn’t what you wanted. It wasn’t what you craved. No, you wanted adventure, and a love that consumed. You turned your head, locking eyes with Captain Kenobi. He gave you a smirk that lit a spark. You bit your lip, looking down at the ring in your hands. No, you wouldn’t be going home. Not today, not ever. With one flick of your wrist, you hurled the ring into the clear blue depths of the ocean below. A sense of freedom enveloped you, fresh as the sea breeze. It would be a pirate’s life for you, and somehow, it didn’t seem all that bad.

[wellhalesbells]

fic help

i recently finished a fic project that got well out of hand and i’m having trouble jumping to my next.  since this last wasn’t sterek, or even tw, i would very much like to scarper back there but i cannot seem to settle on a project that does it for me (or, well, they kind of all do it for me, hence the problem).  

if you have the time and inclination and want to help me choose, i would very much appreciate it!

1. 

He opens his eyes to sharp sunlight, rays that’ve had time to hone themselves, coalesce, and start stabbing at strategic places in the apartment.  Like the backs of Derek’s eyelids.  The comforter around him is rumpled up, bunched in places from a restless sleeper.  Which he isn’t.  He frowns before it comes back to him.

Laura’s bed.

Stiles.

He’d woken up earlier in the pitch black with Stiles’ forehead pressed into the valley between his shoulder blades, breath a warm and reliable puff through his thin t-shirt, his hand clenched on the hill of Derek’s bicep, snagging him, pulling him back against him.

Derek hadn’t brushed him off.  Though it had given him a moment’s pause, strange without the swell of breasts between them, fingers digging and pulling him close to an unmistakably masculine chest.  But only a moment’s; he’d been asleep again minutes later.

He scrubs at the rough brillo on his jaw, the scent of coffee finally breaking through the haze of exhaustion.  He swings his legs out, toes flexing on the warm floorboards, and squints out the window at the brilliant day.  “Rain finally stopped,” he says, voice scratchy and breath foul.

[notes: a total au set in new york. laura’s been murdered and stiles was laura and derek’s emissary, though never that close to the grumpy younger brother. now they have to work together to find out who killed her, while coming to terms with the fact that the piece that made them work is gone.]

2.

“You’re letting demons possess you.”  It should come out scolding, furious, but Derek is too numb from the revelation.  Too willing to be wrong, to believe he’s misunderstood Stiles’ meaning.

Stiles squints, that slow roll and stretch of his muscles shifting his weight, clenching and unclenching his fingers on his forearms, an absentminded exploration of his regular capabilities now he was back in control of them.  “Can we really call it a ‘possession’ when I’m calling more shots than they do?  I advertise like an Air BnB and run the place like Alcatraz.  If I enjoy the power bump of my fire rose, well, isn’t that just a reward for doing the dirty work?  It’s all win-win on this side of the negotiating table.”

[notes: this is wholly because of the exchange between stiles and a recently met liam in canon, when stiles explains he was possessed by an evil spirit, and liam asks, “what are you now?” and stiles says, “better,” instead of ‘human.’ and i had a ‘well, well, welllll’ moment.]

3.

After a week or so, his mail’s transmuted from warm air and a spattering of dirt into a flyer for a pizza place roughly five miles away and an offer for a credit card.  He walks back up, the stairs offering a little less protestation, papers gripped tight in his hand and slips through the half-open door, rolling it closed behind him.

The heartbeat that knocks against his eardrums is sudden and unbalancing.

His head whips up, fangs dropping.

“Total cry for help, didn’t need a warrant.”  Gloved hands with bare fingers walk up the underside of a dried, brown leaf and the sick-sweet scent of decay slides into one of freshness and health.  The fern blossoms above the scratch of blunt fingernails along spidery veins.  Green belches out, overflows from the small clay pot.

[notes: um, definitely a derek returning to beacon hills fic and an uber powerful stiles, beyond that... ??? but i can make it a thing, heh ;)]

4.

Stiles rubs the pads of his fingers together, wiping the sticky residue off on his jeans.  Goes back in with his teeth.  A piece of electrical tape from the handle of his bat tears away.  It’s lost some of its adhesive but it’ll work for his purposes.  He catches the call before the last of ‘Good Old Days’ can fade out.

“‘Sup, Growls?”

A disappointed whuff of breath greets him.  “Your camera’s blocked because—?”  Scott cuts him off before he can even attempt a reply.  “Injured, lying, or underground?”

“You know one day I’ll score that entire trifecta and then?  Then I’m going to Disney World.”  Scott doesn’t bite and Stiles sighs.  “Busted it chasing those lady-hyena-things.  On the upside, I’m only one phone away from filling up my punch card.”

[notes: a harder, living-away-from-beacon-hills-after-he-and-derek-broke-up stiles in this and hunting down supes on his own, because he’s reckless and terrifying and an emotional landmine waiting to explode.]

5.

“No.  No, no.  Hey, no.  I see what you’re doing over there and I don’t ap—”  The stack of books leans too far and cascades down the front of the dresser, hits his floor, and explodes in every direction.  “What did I just say?”

His door whaps open, knob meet wall, and Scott stands there with a baking sheet held aloft in his hands.  “We don’t have renter’s insurance,” he offers, swinging it wildly in front of him.

“You say that as you put a knob-sized hole in my wall?”

Scott opens his eyes, which he’s scrunched closed as he pendulumed the baking supplies around.  He frowns at the flung door.  His stance goes from ‘making cookies my bitch’ to ‘depressed egg.’  “In my defense, I assumed we were being robbed.”

Stiles pats his head now that the baking sheet is no longer a weapon.  “And you also thought the robber would be compassionate enough not to rob us if he knew we don’t have renter’s insurance.”

[notes: i have literally no clue, i don’t remember the impetus for this AT ALL but i could definitely work with it, lol.]

6.

Stiles had finally arrived home for the holiday break, two days after he’d initially promised and with a half-hearted, what-can-you-do sort of shrug that offered little by way of explanation or excuse, and he’d flung himself out of the Jeep with his arms uncovered.  Derek had frowned hard seeing it for the first time.

He’s still frowning now.

Galaxy black ink bands both of Stiles’ wrists like delicate bracelets and creeps up his forearms in curving, flowing lines that vary in size and width.  It might look something like seaweed dancing in an underwater current if not for the fact that, well — Derek glances down at his own bare forearms —

If not for the fact that it looks like pain.  Pain the way he knows it, secondhand and agonizing.  Pain that is tarry black anguish glutting his veins and poisoning his blood.

He’s not going to analyze why Stiles would choose to etch that into his skin.

Mostly because he doesn’t need to.

Derek knows what the nogitsune did to him, and he knows Stiles hasn’t come close to putting that behind him, or done much to try to.

[notes: long after stiles has contented himself with being the token human of the pack, his spark manifests, unfortunately not... well and doubly unfortunately, long after deaton has left town. scott will only accept one emissary now so stiles has to try to figure out how to properly become one.  it’s not going well, and not only because no one can seem to figure out why his spark ‘works’ the way it does but also because, after the nogitsune, power hardly rests easy on stiles’ shoulders.]

7.

It’s really fucking with his head how much Derek’s whole creature-of-the-night thing isn’t jiving with his sleeping-until-noon existence.

And it’s not just that Derek can’t seem to grasp that Stiles’ skin is a living record.  That when there’s the clear afterimage of a mouth on his neck, he and his dad have to valiantly pretend neither one of them notice it for the next week.  It’s not just that though.  It’s also—

Stiles has secrets.  He likes them.  Collects them.  It’s a comfort thing, a control thing maybe.  Sometimes they’re big, sometimes they’re not, but they’re always his.   Theories, actions, thoughts, things of his own that will only ever be his.  

Except.

Except he doesn’t have secrets, not anymore, not around a fucking werewolf.  Derek can smell them through his pores, hear him chasing them down from across a crowded room, cock his head and listen to the lie in his pulse.  There’s nothing sacred anymore, nothing private, and Stiles can’t anymore.

[notes: okay, it’s just... i never see this? and, being honest, i could not date a friggin’ werewolf. i’m not even a secret person as much as i just enjoy being alone and you would have to make sustained EFFORT to be alone - you’d have to go farther, mask whatever you did if you didn’t want it known, have someone who wouldn’t ask why or what you were doing (which is just like when people ask me NOW what i’m doing and i don’t want to say ‘writing explicit gay sex, thanks for asking, mom’).  i’m not on board. i could totes see stiles not being on board and, of course, he’d rather magic a ‘solution’ than have a conversation, my dumb little dummy. this one would definitely need the most work since i would probably rewrite everything i’ve already got, it just doesn’t... gel well.]