#{Out of Boozes (look for more) - ooc posts}

[reidsworld]

Scars of Time Chapter Two: Wild Horses

Summary: In which you met Logan for the first time.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Use of Y/N, slightly ooc Logan?

Word Count: 1.1k

Song… Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones

Mars speaks… This was supposed to be so much longer and include a flashback to 2000 but I split it up into two chapters because I don’t have the motivation or time rn to finish the rest of the chapter. But I wanted to post this because I can’t leave you hanging! I love this song so much it’s insane.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | < Previous Part | Next Part >

1997

The bar was a relic of another time—dim, smoke-filled, and worn around the edges, much like the people who frequented it. It was the kind of place where dreams came to die, swallowed by cheap booze and the haze of cigarette smoke. Logan had been here before, or at least somewhere like it; they all blurred together after a while. A familiar escape, where the noise and violence drowned out the memories that clawed at his mind. The fights paid well, sure, but it was the pain he welcomed—the one thing that cut through the static in his brain.

He sat hunched over at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey that tasted like gasoline. The crowd was caught up in the latest fight, their cheers and jeers forming a thick, desperate hum. Logan tuned it all out, his focus sinking into the amber liquid before him, searching for something—anything—he couldn’t quite name.

And then he heard it: a voice, clear and haunting, cutting through the noise like a knife through butter. It wasn’t haunting in the way that brought fear, but in the way that it didn’t belong—a beautiful melody in a place that had forgotten beauty. It wasn’t loud, not above the chaos, but it was sharp enough to slice through his thoughts. Logan turned, his curiosity getting the better of him. His gaze settled on a small stage in the corner, barely more than a rickety platform with a single microphone. And there you were, standing under the dim glow of the bar lights.

Your voice was low, with a melancholic melody that seemed to rise and fall like a whispered confession. The room seemed to shrink around you, your voice somehow filling every empty space. Logan’s grip on his glass tightened as he watched, unable to tear his eyes away. You didn’t belong here. Not in this place, not in this crowd. There was something different about you—the way you held yourself, the way your eyes seemed to scan the room as if searching for someone, as if your voice was searching for something too. It was a haunting reminder of what shouldn’t be here, yet here you were, an unexpected echo of something that touched the very soul.

When you sang, it was like peeling back a layer of yourself, revealing something raw and fragile. Logan could hear it in every note—the kind of sadness that only came from knowing too much, from losing too much. He recognized it because it was the same kind of weight he carried.

His body moved before his mind caught up, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. The crowd around him faded, the noise dulled, and all that remained was your voice—soft and evocative, like a gentle melody that lingered in the air. Logan found himself at the foot of the stage, closer now, close enough to feel the pull of you in his veins.

The song drew to an end, the last note hanging in the air, thick with emotion. The crowd applauded, but you barely noticed, your gaze locking onto his. Logan felt a spark of recognition—something old and familiar. You looked at him like you saw something in him that others didn’t, something even he wasn’t sure existed anymore.

“You’ve got a hell of a voice,” Logan said, his voice rough but genuine. “And great taste in music too. Wild Horses is one of my favourites.”

You smiled, a small, sad smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks.”

There was a pause, a moment suspended in time, the air between you charged with something neither of you could quite name. You were both searching, feeling out the edges of this unexpected connection, drawn to the pieces of each other that fit like a puzzle.

“I’ve seen you fight,” you finally said, your voice softer, almost like a confession. “You’re good. Really good.” Your gaze flickered to the dog tags displayed on his chest.

Logan shrugged, playing it off. “It’s just a job,” he muttered, his gaze flicking away for a second. “Pays the bills.”

“But that’s not why you do it,” you countered, leaning in slightly, your voice just above a whisper. “You fight because it’s what you know, isn’t it?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “Maybe,” he said after a moment, his eyes meeting yours again. “But it’s enough.”

Your gaze drifted to his hands, fingers unmarked, skin unblemished despite the brutality of the fights you’d seen him in. “I saw your fight earlier… How are your hands already healed?” you asked, brow furrowing in genuine curiosity.

Logan’s smile faded, a shadow crossing his features. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he replied, his tone guarded, defensive.

You held his gaze, something unspoken passing between you. “I have a… gift too,” you admitted, voice dropping to a hushed tone. “I heal. Others, myself… doesn’t matter. I know what it looks like when someone’s wounds disappear like that.”

Logan’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched your face for… what? The truth? Understanding? He wasn’t sure. “So, you know what it’s like,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

He reached out his hand to help you down. You nodded, grabbing his hand, stepping off the stage to stand closer to him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “I do. But it doesn’t make it any easier, does it?”

“No,” Logan said quietly. “It doesn’t.”

A silence fell between you, thick with the weight of shared secrets. You could both feel it—the pull, the spark of something deeper.

“I’m Y/N,” you finally said, breaking the quiet.

“Logan,” he replied, and your names hung in the air like a promise.

You leaned in a little, your voice a soft murmur. “Buy me a drink?”

Logan’s lips curved into a genuine smile, small but real. “Yeah,” he said, his gaze lingering on you, “anythin’ for a gorgeous girl like you.”

You moved to the bar together, side by side with his hand on the small of your back, two people finding a sense of peace amidst the noise. The night stretched on, filled with low conversations, sidelong glances, and the kind of comfort that comes from being seen for who you really are.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the dirty windows, and the world outside began to wake, you both felt it—something beginning, something worth holding onto. And for the first time in a long while, Logan didn’t feel quite so alone.

Mars speaks… (again) September is really busy for me but I wanted to give you guys something! Any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

Tags… @annagraceevanss @jane-the-virgin0 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @paintlavillered @morganas-pendragons @lanabobana @inthetub @kellyxo1 @lillycore @twinky-wink @politicstanner @emiemiemiii @savy-luvs-dilfs @charlyrmv @rockerchick05 @londonbeachgirl @lefroggie @swthxrry @marifilue @th3mrskory

[dracarialove]

📄 F it, I'm posting my finished fics here, too 📄

Rouge's relationship with Knuckles ends in an unsalvageable way, driving her to tears and into the arms of a mysterious hedgehog. As her feelings for Shadow grow, the two tiptoe around the possibility of having a relationship while teaching each other new things.

Main Ship: Shadow/Rouge

Other Ships: Silver/Blaze, Knuckles/Julie-Su

A/N: This story is set in an off-white version of Mobius, with more similarities to real life than Sonic's canon world. It's a rewrite of a very old fanfic of mine, and as such, Knuckles (in particular) is written somewhat OOC for the sake of the story.

*Originally published Nov. 1st, 2021

[Chapter 1: Prologue]

Their relationship started like any other – a femme fatale and a tough guy stumbling upon each other and captivating one another with their charms. She was Rouge the Bat, a curvaceous young woman with teal eyes and a determined personality; he was Knuckles the Echidna, a fiery redhead with adventurous violet eyes.

Flirting came naturally to both of them, the party animals rarely without a man or woman by their side, and so it was only fitting that he initially laid his gaze on her under the purple lights of a bustling night club.

He occupied one end of the bar with his friends, a group consisting of long-time pal Sonic the Hedgehog; Tails Prower, who was finally old enough to drink; and Silver, a new addition to their squad. After ordering a round, the echidna spotted Rouge sitting alone at the other end of the bar.

He got the urge to approach her, but the club was too crowded to simply walk through the sea of patrons, and he was soon distracted by the beers getting passed to his group. When he looked her way again, she was gone. But he had captured her image in his mind, hoping to spot the beautiful bat again some other night.

The morning after, Knuckles left Sonic's crash pad in search of an ice cream parlor to cleanse his palate of the night-old booze. He saw her yet again, the breath-taking beauty standing to the side as she waited for her order; but she wasn't alone, enthralled in a conversation with a friend of her own.

The bold flirt thought about approaching her anyway, but realized he couldn't in his condition – a bit hungover and still stinking from the night before, he didn't want to risk rejection. So, he convinced himself that she would be around and he would get his chance.

Biding his time worked out for the echidna, eventually ending up in the same aisle as Rouge while grocery shopping. He watched the gorgeous woman search through band-aids for her preferred brand, then summed up the courage to talk to her.

After introducing himself, he brought up the night he'd seen her alone at the bar and confessed that she looked stunning; she reciprocated his interest, accepting when he asked her for a date. Later that night, he took her to a fancy Italian restaurant, justifying the cost as he was entranced by her striking wit and incredible looks.

It wasn't long before Knuckles fell in love with her, their whirlwind romance taking the couple through the stages of a relationship fairly quickly. When he inevitably proposed, Rouge excitedly said yes, the two blinded by an infatuation with each other that wouldn't last.

Their engagement spanned over the course of many months, Knuckles landing a lucrative position in a business career while Rouge continued working as a government agent. They lived together at Rouge's home most days, but the echidna kept an apartment closer to his workplace for long nights when the drive would be too exhausting.

Unfortunately, it also allowed him to keep a secret that would eventually destroy their relationship.

[dylandunsmore]

A Dunsmore Thanksgiving

Set November 24th

Every year Thanksgiving comes around and the doors to Jack Dunsmore’s home are left unlocked for the strays to come in. His home is nothing flashy, but Southside has never worried about that. It wasn’t about the creaking floorboard and cracked window, it was about the people that pushed tables together with mismatched seats and filled the room with laughter and cheers; a found family mixed with orphans and those often disregarded. 

The door swings open to reveal a new face, whether they’re attending lunch or joining them much later in the day. Those who come for a feed, no plans of their own to scurry off to, find the kitchen, though small, is taken over by the youngest Dunsmore and Anderson; Dylan having roped DJ into the tradition she’d started years ago. Anyone who dares sneak an early bite faces the wrath of them, knowing all too well how quick it will go once it’s time to eat.

By 2pm the tables are crowded, everyone called to eat as dish after dish is brought out to sit along the odd tables. The roast sits in front of Jack as he calls the misfits to attention, shutting them all up with his bellowing tone. He takes a moment to thank all that came, call out jokes on those he knows and think of those who are no longer with them. Whilst he argues the chefs should handle the carving he takes the knife in hand, carving into the succulent meat, slicing enough to fill everyone’s plate. 

As some leave after lunch others linger, having nowhere else to be. Many come later, finding some leftovers to fill up on as they join in the various groups that have broken up throughout the house. There are the football watchers in front of the TV, smokers out back by the firepit, someone’s started a card game at the table with cash thrown in the middle. Music is playing somewhere and there’s kids running between the adults. People move from one group to another, catching up and making new friends. For one night the door stays unlocked, everyone in southside and those who call them friends are welcome in the Dunsmore household. It might not look like much from the outside, but it holds so much inside.

ooc: The Dunsmore household is available for anyone seeking a venue for Thanksgiving plots. There will be photos posted on the day for some inspiration on setting. 

Some points - there is only one bathroom, the house will be rather busy and loud at lunch then mellow out as it turns into more of a gathering, picking back up later in the day. Jack will fall asleep in his chair. Dunsmore siblings will be sneaking off later in the night to get high on the roof as tradition dictates. If anyone is caught purposely stealing or damaging Jack’s place they will have to deal with all the Dunsmore’s. You do not need to be a southsider to attend, but you should at least know someone attending to have heard about it otherwise. Bring your own booze if you want to drink. Kids are welcome, they can be put in a bed to sleep at any time. There is a backyard they can run around too but keep in mind the weather - dress according to that on the main (snow/winter).

[rubynationwins]

Hard To Handle

Soft!Dark!Sebastian Stan x PlusSize!Handler!Reader (Fem!Reader) (RPF)

My Masterlist

Summary: You risk your safety trying to find Sebastian when he runs off, but you don’t understand why he’s so upset. As his handler, it’s your job to keep him in line. Plus, why would any man try something on a girl like you? He decides to show you just what men are capable of.

Warnings: 18+, minors plz go away, dark fic(or my attempt at one), dub/non-con, soft!dark!Sebastian, smut, enemies to lovers, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, biting/marking, manhandling, choking, edging, fingering, semi-public sex, dirty talk, angst, light dom/sub, swearing, fat shaming/name calling(not by seb), mentions of body image issues // If there are warnings I missed plz lmk so I can include them. In general, if this type of content is triggering for u DNI. Read at ur own risk

Word Count: 5,100

A/N- This is my first dark fic, or at least kinda dark? Idk but I hope you enjoy it! Seb is obviously OOC (since this is a dark fic) he’s also a bit of a brat😉 I tried my best w/ the Romanian but I don’t speak it so take it at face value plz. Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story is also on my AO3 account, Ruby_Nation, but should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

I want to shoutout the writers who lured me to the dark side with their incredible fics @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @kinanabinks @angryschnauzer @lanadelreyscokewhor3​

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

Famous actor Sebastian Stan was a lot of things: charming, intelligent, insanely talented, a hilarious goofball, and, of course, drop-dead gorgeous. There was something about his chiseled jaw and hooded gaze that made it impossible to look away from the celebrity. What Sebastian Stan was not, however, was good at following rules. Your rules, to be exact. As his handler, you had specific stipulations set out for him to follow. But did famous actor Sebastian Stan listen to said rules? No, of course not. This made your job as his glorified babysitter immensely more challenging. Since, every time he disregarded your directives, you were the one who dealt with the repercussions. He knew this, and yet on the very first stop of his press tour, he decided to run off and galavant around an unfamiliar city unsupervised. 

5 hours earlier

When you arrived at the hotel with Sebastian, it was 7 pm. Your jet-lagged self was still on LA time, though, so it felt more like 9 pm to you. At least your room was nice, even if it was connected to Sebastian’s by a single door. You quickly changed out of your travel outfit, unpacked your toiletry bag-since hotel shampoo was a cruel joke-and went to the bathroom. After that, you walked over to the door that lead to Sebastian’s room and knocked. No answer. You knocked again, “Sebastian! We need to go over tomorrow’s itinerary.”  Still nothing. Luckily, the door was unlocked. A subsequent sweep of his quarters revealed that they were empty. 

Shit. 

That slippery motherfucker had once again escaped under your watchful eye. Okay, maybe not so watchful since you had been on the other side of a wall when he slipped away. But he was only out of eyeshot for about twenty minutes and he managed to not only fly the coop but also unpack all of his luggage. He had so many suitcases! How in the world did he unpack them all so fast? Not that it mattered, because when you found him you were going to handcuff him to one of those god-damn oversized suitcases. See how he liked lugging around an inconvenient charge for a change. 

Present

Now you were wandering around the nightlife district looking for the escaped actor. You stopped outside a bar that could only be described with the word “dive” in front of it. This had to be it since you had scoured every other location in the area that offered booze and/or entertainment. You had waded through drunken crowds in cramped bars, had enjoyed some nice piano music at a more upscale establishment, you had even witnessed a very flexible dancer shimmy up a pole and then drop back down it hanging on with only one leg. Still, Sebastian was nowhere to be found.

At one of the places, you thought you’d found him sitting on a stool at a bar with his back turned to you. You tapped his shoulder and instead found a drunken man in his 50s. The stench of bottom-shelf whiskey wafted off of him. He teetered in his seat on the verge of toppling over. He’d leaned towards you, either because he thought your touch had been a sign of womanly desire or gravity had finally caught up to his unbalanced state. Either way, you leaped back, smacking into a waitress carrying a tray of beer. The tray went flying. The beer went on you. 

So, you were in a particularly foul mood as you walked into the last bar on your quest to find the most annoying actor on the planet. You were soaked in cheap booze and out forty bucks you had used to comp the spilt drinks. It took one sweep of the bar’s interior to spot the man you had been trying to find for the past five hours. 

He was standing under dim lights in the back, surrounded by a boisterous group of men. The bastard was playing pool. By the carefree look on Sebastian’s face and the way he was joking around with his new buddies, his evening had been a lot less shitty than yours. You centered yourself, trying your best to reign in the anger thrumming through your entire being, and strode towards the man who made your job, no, your life, a constant stress-inducing nightmare. 

Sebastian stood at the far end of the pool table, lining up his cue stick to sink the last solid ball on the pool table. His relaxed demeanor was all confidence, but the slight furrow of his brow gave away how deeply he was focusing. You shoved your way through the loud men gathered around the table. When you finally reached Sebastian, you stopped at his side, glaring at him with murderous intent. You expected him to notice the waves of thinly veiled rage radiating from your presence right away. But instead of turning around to beg for forgiveness, he just kept staring at the ball in front of him, oblivious to your fuming state. At this point, you had had enough of this bullshit and just wanted to get back to the god-damn hotel.

“Hey, asshole!” You shouted so that your voice was heard over the roaring group of men. Unfortunately, since you were right next to his ear, you startled him. Sebastian jumped. The hand that was gripping his cue stick flew forward, sending the cue ball directly into a side pocket. Members of Sebastian’s team went into an uproar, furious about the scratch.

Sebastian whipped around, surprise and anger etched into his features, “Y/N?! What the hell? What are you doing here?” 

You were about to retort when a large hand grasped your shoulder and spun you around to face a man who looked like a frat bro mixed with a pickup truck. He fumed, “You just fucking cost us the game! I’m out two hundred bucks now, you fat bitch!” 

Normally, you were able to keep your cool whenever insults were thrown at you. Years of similar-looking asshats calling you all types of degrading names had given you pretty thick skin. However, there was something about this particular meathead that broke through it. The awful night you were having probably had something to do with it too. You stood on your tip-toes, getting up in his face, “What did you just call me? If I were you, I’d turn the fuck around, prick.” 

He lowered his head, closing the distance between the two of you even more. His eyes were bloodshot and he reeked of cigarettes and dollar store cologne, “And why’s that, little piggy?”

You saw red. You swung your fist back, about to go for a gut punch when a large body pushed between you and the truck man. Sebastian looked like he wanted to hit the other guy too, but instead, he wrapped a hand around your arm and held you at a distance.

In a flash, Sebastian’s cool demeanor returned, “I’m sorry about my… sister, Tod, she’s just in a bad mood right now, ya ‘know?” He gave the man a tight smile as if letting him in on a little joke.

You stepped forward to protest, “I am not his sis–” His grip on your upper arm squeezed tighter. “Ow!” you squeaked, but he just kept looking forward, not even glancing back at you.

Tod, formerly known as Pissface, seemed to accept Sebastian’s explanation. Apparently, though, he still felt the need to give his two cents on why you were in such a “bad mood” as Sebastian had put it, “Yeah. She’s probably on the rag, man.” 

You rolled your eyes, of course. Of course, a grade-A troll like him would say that. Of fucking course.

Pissface–Tod–continued to run his mouth, “I thought she was some stalker man, you guys don’t even look related.” 

Sebastian laughed humorlessly, “She takes after our mom.”

“Huh. Either way, you should put a muzzle on that thing,” Tod nodded towards you. You flipped him the bird and he sneered back at you. “Ugly fat chicks like you always have the bitchiest personalities,” he turned his head back to Sebastian, “Good luck getting any tonight if that’s your wingman.” With those departing words, the deadshit man walked off. Sebastian made no move to rebuke the insult. Instead, he pulled you towards the exit, only pausing to shove a wad of cash at a waitress to cover whatever expenses he’d racked up.

Sebastian burst through the exit door, your arm still clutched in his vice-like grip. He dragged you down the street before finally letting you go. 

You rubbed the spot on your arm he had held and swiveled to glare at the bar that was now almost out of sight. “God, what a douchebag. I’m glad he lost all that money,” you turned your gaze back to where Sebastian stood, illuminated by a lamppost, “why were you even on a team with a dick like him? I’m sure his friends weren’t any better. What’s wrong with y-” 

“Y/N, Shut up!” Sebastian yelled, his usually relaxed tone gone. You took a step back in surprise. His eyes stared daggers at you and there was a brooding aura around him all of a sudden. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his body was stiff as if holding back rage. For the first time since you had started working for him, Sebastian Stan was legitimately pissed off. He tended to be the one who rolled with the punches, who wasn’t bothered by anything. But now, he looked furious. And for whatever reason, his newfound anger was targeted at you.

You were immediately on the defensive, “What’s your problem? Why are you angry with me? Pissface back there was the one being an ass,” you took a few steps closer to him to prove that you weren’t intimidated by his menacing presence, “And I’m the one who has the right to be angry at you!”

He narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips, leaning forward, as if talking to a petulant child, “And why is that?”

You let out a frustrated noise. “What do you mean, ‘why’? You snuck off again! Sebastian, you are so selfish, you know that!? I’ve been searching all over, by myself, trying to find you for the past–” you checked the time-“five and a half hours!” 

Your words made Sebastian pause, “You’ve been what?” he didn’t let you answer, “Why the hell have you been out here alone at night? And trying to start a fight with some wannabe pool hustler? You’re lucky I saved you from getting your ass handed to you back there.”

“I didn’t ask you to! I can handle myself just fine. I’m not some fragile doll, look at me,” you gestured to yourself, “I’m a big girl, I can fight my own battles.”

“You’re telling me you could have taken on that prick back there? What about all of his buddies, huh? You don’t think before you act, Y/N.” He said your name like an irritated parent reprimanding their child. “Why’re you so fuckin’ reckless!?” Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends, “Y/N, you’re my handler, not my bodyguard. And even if you were, I still wouldn’t want you wandering around a strange new city at night by yourself.”

“Sebastian, that’s exactly what you did,” you deadpan.

“That’s obviously different, Y/N,” he said flippantly, brushing aside your very valid point, “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you. You’re a woman, that makes you vulnerable. The world is full of dangerous people, Y/N. Especially men, who would do god knows what to you if given the opportunity. That’s true in any situation, but when you do this?!” He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated, “You’re just asking for some random bastard to take advantage of you.”

He was missing the point, “Like I said before; you don’t have any reason to be so worked up. If I was smaller I’d understand your concern, but since I look the way I do, I don’t have to worry about being ‘taken advantage of’ as you put so lightly.”

“What does your size have to do with anything, Y/N?” 

You shook your head, he just didn’t get it. “My whole life I’ve been pretty much ignored by the entirety of the male species, and when they do notice me it’s to reaffirm how repulsive they find me. All because of my size,” your words tasted like bile, painful but true, “That fact doesn’t change when I’m out on my own or when it’s after sundown.” Why was he making you explain this? How could he not see what was so obvious to everyone else?

Sebastian’s voice was somber now, “That kind of thinking is going to get you hurt, Y/N. Or worse, killed.” 

Deep down you knew some of what Sebastian said was true but there was no way you were bowing down to his claims, “How would you even know? You have no idea what it’s like to be me. You never will.” His blue eyes were filled with concern and something else. Something you despised: pity. 

Finished with the conversation, you decided to stop sugarcoating your words, “Sebastian, get it through your thick skull, no man is going to violate me! I’m too big, too fat, too disgusting! I’m just not worth it!" You were out of breath with your words, and your eyes brimmed with spite-filled tears. Sebastian stared at you, wide-eyed and lips parted in disbelief at your outburst. You quickly turned away from him, trying to discreetly rub the tears from your eyes.

“We are done talking about this. As your handler, I am the one responsible for keeping you out of harm's way and fixing any screwups you cause. I will not apologize for doing my job by coming down here to find you. I am the one who lays down the law, not you.” You took out your phone. “Now, I’m calling us a ride and we’re going back to the hotel. That’s an order.” 

Quick steps sounded behind you and when you turned back around Sebastian was right in front of you, “What are you do–”

He snatched your phone away.

“Hey–”

Sebastian grabbed your now phoneless hand and tugged you towards a nearby ally. He kept hold of your wrist as you stumbled after him, confused. What was happening? Had he seen some paparazzi and was trying to hide? If so, he didn’t have to be so rough.

Once you were off the sidewalk and out of sight he pulled up short. You ran into him, unprepared for his sudden halt. Right as you were trying to pull free, he dropped your wrist. You stumbled forward and caught yourself on the brick wall in front of you.

Before you could right yourself, Sebastian was there, pressing his muscled body flush against your backside. What was happening? Startled, you tried to push yourself off the wall to get away from him. His hands shot forward and yanked your flailing fists behind your back. His right hand locked them in place with its strong grip. His left arm wrapped around your soft middle, fingers skimming your waist. It all happened so fast. You froze-too overwhelmed by Sebastian caging you against himself. His heated presence overpowered your senses. You couldn’t utter a single sound.

Sebastian was now devoid of the anger that had been coursing through his veins just a moment ago. His face nuzzled into your neck and shivers shot down your spine at the feel of his rough stubble scraping your skin. He breathed you in and let out a guttural sound. “You smell like beer,” he chuckled. The low rumble of his dark laughter slid over you like a velvety blanket. It caressed every nook and cranny of your body. He flicked his tongue against the base of your neck, sending tingles along your arms, “Taste like it too.”

“Seb-”

You tried to protest but his tongue returned to your skin and you were once again rendered speechless. He licked a languid stripe from the base of your neck up to the notch of your jaw, nipping at the sensitive flesh. You yelped. His rough lips curved into a devious smile as he continued his assault on your exposed throat. Sebastian must have felt your heartbeat increase under his touch because he nipped at your pulse point. He dug his teeth in deeper this time, almost breaking skin. Your cry of pain morphed into a groan of pleasure when he sucked at the spot and then smoothed his tongue over it. 

While his mouth continued to explore your throat, his left hand began its own expedition. It trailed up your stomach and landed on your right breast. When he squeezed and felt your hard nipple straining against the confines of your clothes, he let out a low growl. You gasped when he balled up the front of your blouse in his fist. He wouldn’t dare. He pulled down, tearing the still damp fabric apart. Before you had the chance to rebuke him for having the audacity to rip one of your favorite shirts, his hand once again cupped your breast, this time slipping underneath your bra. His thick fingers rolled over your sensitive nipple and the sound you made was something so obscene you couldn’t believe that you had just produced it. He rubbed your already swollen nub raw. His fingers pinched and plucked and squeezed until you were a writhing mess in his arms, trying to escape the overstimulation.

“Shh, shh, shh,” his lurid voice whispered in your ear, “it’s okay, Y/N, I’ve got you. You’re doing just fine, sweetheart. God, you feel like perfection.” Suddenly, he stopped his ministrations and slid his hand up to your neck. He didn’t squeeze, just wrapped his fingers around your throat. He felt the thrum of your heartbeat against his thumb. Sebastian inhaled deeply, basking in your scent, “I knew you would be perfection,” 

He caressed the underside of your jaw with his calloused thumb and smiled when you shuddered at his touch. You were at his mercy, he was the one in charge now. It was he who made the rules and kept you in place, “You may think no man is ever looking at you, but trust me, I haven’t been able to look away since the day we met.” His tone was deceptively calm, but his heavy panting proved that he was just as worked up as you were. 

“You’re my every desire,” he growled, “do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about doing this exact thing? About pinning you down and touching every inch of you? Touching, caressing, squeezing your body until you’re a moaning mess. Unable to utter a single, infuriating word.” As he spoke he released his hold on your wrists, instead moving to the button of your jeans. He paused, his fingers skimmed over the clasp as if waiting to see what your next move would be. You couldn’t move, even if they were free now. You weren’t sure how he would react if you did, and you didn’t want to find out. This was not the Sebastian Stan you knew. This was something dark and unpredictable, something primal. A small part of your brain claimed that the real reason you didn’t fight was that you wanted him. That you wanted Sebastian to fuck you until you forgot your own name. “Good girl,” he remarked when you stayed still. You involuntarily preened at his praise, arching your back and grinding your ass against his crotch. He was hard, and from the feel of him, he was large. 

Sebastian hissed, sucking in a groan at the feeling of your ass against his throbbing erection, “You are infuriating, dragă,” he knew you despised his Romanian nickname for you. You had always assumed he used it to taunt you. You were nobody’s “darling.” Maybe he had been sincere this whole time. “You drive me crazy with every order, every scowl, every negative comment you throw at yourself.” He slipped his hand under your waistband, roaming down towards your sex. His fingers danced just above your heated center. “I think I’ve finally found a way to shut you up,” He cupped your mound, his chest rumbled when he felt the evidence of just how aroused you were. 

“S-Sebastian, please–” you weren’t sure if you were pleading for him to stop or for him to actually do something. Sebastian decided it was the latter and plunged a thick finger into your dripping pussy. 

He drew in a quick breath, “Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart. Not sure if you’ll be able to take all of me-” he added another finger, working to get you ready-“but we won’t know until we try.” He continued to press and stretch your walls. When he added a third finger you lost it, giving up on holding back any sounds. The brief moments his palm brushed over your clit you mewled, desperate for more pressure on the pulsating bud. 

His hand that was still fisted around your neck squeezed before dropping down. He pushed down your pants even more so that they laid at your knees He pulled your thick thighs further apart, widening your stance for easier access to your drenched hole. When his fingers began an assault on your bundle of nerves you threw your head back, and obscene sounds flew from your lips. The fingers inside of you pressed against your G-spot and you started to tremble from the overstimulation.

Sebastian ran his chin along your jaw. The knowledge that he was making you come undone with only his hands was driving him crazy. He ground his clothed erection against your ass, smiling when you gasped at the feel of him. Focus back on you, he flattened his thumb on your clit, massaging it with precise motions. He was greedy for your release. 

It was all too much: Sebastian’s fingers pumping in and out of you, the exquisite pressure he was forcing upon your clit, the feel of his heavy breaths against your ear. You convulsed in his arms, your back arching up as molten lava flowed through your veins. 

You were still recovering from the high his fingers had just pulled from you, but Sebastian didn’t care. There was no way he was waiting another second to fuck you. He spun you around to face him. Your breath hitched in your throat when his hands moved to his pants. He pulled out his cock. It was thick and long, precum was already leaking from the tip. He stroked it from base to tip while his eyes devoured your disheveled state. Your breasts bounced with your every gasping breath. Your peaked nipples were still raw from his earlier torment. It looked like you might crumble that very second, too wrecked to stand up straight. You could barely hold your own weight, he had turned your bones into jelly. Sebastian smirked when he noticed the numerous marks he had left all over your neck and shoulders. His gaze wandered back to your face and his cock twitched when he saw the arousal clear in your eyes. Your irises were just thin halos of color shadowed by your blown-out pupils. It was a good thing he had already gotten you off because he didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep from blowing his load once inside your velvety walls.

 “Look at me, dragă.” 

You refused, even though he had just given you the most intense orgasm of your life. There was something about this new position. You felt more vulnerable and didn’t want him to see that reflected in your expression. Instead, you turned your face away from his. That was a mistake.

Sebastian growled. He snatched your neck in his grip again, jerking your head forward to face him dead on. “What did I fucking say?” 

Your hazy focus zeroed in on him, hyperaware of the beating of your heart against his heavy palm. His fingers squeezed tighter and you rasped out, “To look at you.” 

His grip compressed even more, “Say my name. I want to make sure you know who’s in control now.”

It was a desperate fight for air to get the words out, “Y-you are-” He squeezed tighter- “Sebastian!” You managed to squeak out, seeing spots. His grip loosened enough for you to heave in a gasp of air, your body tingling from the return of oxygen to your veins. His hand was still wrapped around your throat, though, his intense blue eyes seemed to see into your soul, “You’re in control, Sebastian.”

“That’s a good girl, Y/N,” his low murmur was laced with warning, “You’re gonna take every inch I give you; gonna be a good girl for me,” his lips widened into an ominous grin, “I’m not going to hold back.” 

You gasped as he nudged your aching folds with the tip of his cock, running it up and down your pussy lips. He thrust into you without further warning. His lips met yours in a deep kiss at the same time. It was an overload of sensations, his tongue caressed the crease of your mouth, demanding entrance, while his hips pounded into you relentlessly. You arched into him, mewling at his unforgiving pace. Your hands flew up to his toned shoulders, gripping them so hard that Sebastian could feel the bite of your fingernails beneath his shirt. Finally prying your lips apart with his tongue, he crashed his lips onto yours, locking your tongues in a heated dance that took your breath away and left you wanting more. More of his mouth, more of his touch, more of him. 

Sebastian seemed to read your thoughts. He rutted into you with even more force. Your pussy walls ached at the stinging stretch of his thick cock. The hand that wasn’t around your neck grabbed your thigh. As he lifted it to wrap around his waist your pant leg slipped down to pool at your feet. His fingers dug into your thigh as he held your leg up. The new angle allowed him to slide against your upper wall with each thrust, the tip of his cock hitting the spot that sent shivers down your spine. He released his hold on your throat and brought it down to your center. When he massaged your clit with his dexterous fingers, you saw stars.

“Holy fuck,” you heaved, trying to get air in your lungs, “Sebastian! Oh my god, Sebastian-” All you could do was string together a jumble of incoherent words and moans and cries of pleasure-filled pain.

“Are you close, baby?” his raspy voice teased. He removed his hand from your core, resting it just above where you needed him. You whined at the loss and tried to grind up to reach fingers. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, “Awww, poor thing. Do you wanna cum, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, desperate for release.

“Use your words, dragă,” he tapped his fingers lightly, still too far away for the motion to give you any relief.

“Y-Yes, I want to cum,” you hoped that would be enough for him to take pity on your unruly state.

It wasn’t. “Then beg for it. You already got to cum once, why should a disobedient, aggravating slut like you get to cum again?” The angle of his thrusts changed, he was chasing his own release now. If you didn’t convince him, he wasn’t going to let you cum. You didn’t have the energy in you anymore to be defiant for the sake of your dignity. Screw dignity. All you knew was that you needed him to fuck you until you came undone on his fat cock.

“Please, please let me cum on your dick. It’s all I want. I need it,” His hips angled up to brush against your G-spot again, but he still didn’t touch your clit, “Please, I’ll do anything. I’m sorry for what I did. Please forgive me, Sebastian, I need to cum. Make me cum on your thick cock. Please, Sebastian, please.” 

Sebastian tensed when you used his name, his hooded gaze darkened with a hungry desire at the sound of it coming from your lips. Satisfied, he brought his fingers back to your throbbing bud, “That’s my good girl.” You shrieked in delight. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight.” He pressed harder against your clit, repeatedly rolling over the spot that made you squeal in ecstasy. 

He groaned at your sounds, “You’re gonna cum when I tell you to, sweetheart.” His hips pumped up into yours, driving you both further to the edge. Sebastian’s grunts and moans filled the space, “Cum for me, Y/N.” Sebastian ordered as he took you, “Wanna feel your perfect cunt milk my cock dry,” his words sent you hurtling over the edge, and with one more snap of his hips, you were gone. Your insides spasmed and your entire body convulsed from the waves of pure bliss washing over you. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his defined shoulders. Sebastian kept moving his fingers against your clit, making your pussy clamp around his massive cock even tighter. 

Sebastian buried himself to the hilt and his load exploded inside of you. “Holy fuck!” He roared as thick ropes of cum coated your quivering walls. His body shuddered at the impact of his release. He felt lightheaded. He dug his fingers into the plump flesh of your waist to ground himself. Your soft whimpers were like music to his ears. He pulled you to him, cementing his cock inside of your still trembling walls. He shifted his hold so that one arm wrapped protectively around your waist. His other hand came up to gently cradle the side of your face. You were too spent to try and object to his hold. It was like your bodies melded into one; his hard, sculpted edges melted into your soft, rounded curves. Sebastian drank in the feeling of you. He was never going to let you go. His fingers lifted your chin so that your eyes met his and he planted a chaste kiss on your lips. “Looks like you’re not as repellent as you thought, dragă.”

(P.S. I really like this handler!reader concept so I might make some more that are also stand-alone's.)

[saturnsummer]

hi! i can’t believe i’m doing this, being cowardly and asking anonymously, which is so not like me, but i’m really not sure about the feedback i’ll get from this ask so here goes. i really hope you don’t take this the wrong way. i just don’t know who else to ask and among the authors i see in tumblr you’re the one with all the headcanons and looks into their characterization and all huhu.

i just noticed that in the majority of angst(y) aus, sol (a) is always the one who is constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, prioritising her family over hwi/not considering him her family, or ends up pushing hwi away and then the relationship turns out badly, and by badly meaning it ends. i understand the first one since that’s really been the case for the majority of what we get a glimpse of in her life. but i don’t understand the others and i want to understand because so many people are writing it that way, and i interpret it as: they see something i don’t. maybe there are things about her character that i can’t or perceive differently or my 21 year old brain lacks the wisdom for that i miss how it progresses to that. but since i’m too shy to interact with anyone i don’t have anyone to compare notes with, huhu. i don’t really understand the others them because:

she basically said she’ll root for him in his uncle’s place which isn’t something to be taken lightly, she knows the gravity of what she said and more than anyone else she knows what it feels like to have family leave you behind/alone and all (i hope u get what i mean here and that this is sufficient, it’ll get even longer if i add more explaining)

she has high EQ, she basically hit all the right spots in the before they uploaded the video part (if it wasn’t for assemblyman ko…) and this scene is also another example of number 3 where she ends up opening herself up to him again

she knows he understands her in a sense and has this certain level of trust towards him, it can be seen on how she told him about dan but not about anyone else, and even if hwi didn’t show up at that time it can also be seen that she somehow opens up to him in the drinking water as if its booze scene. I guess i just observed that in the instances where she takes the first step and tries to push him away, she rather ends up opening herself up to him.

hwi also has high EQ or at least towards sol (lmao) and combined with his high IQ and the fact that he understands her contributes to number 3

and not all of these scenes can be considered as “working out alright and happily and greatly” since there are challenges in them but somehow it never reaches to that degree :<

as i said i want to compare notes because i understand only a portion of where its based on. i’m not saying its ooc since there is a bedrock on where that could possibly come from, it’s just that i can’t comprehend how its probable to reach up to that degree based on my understanding of their characters huhu. if it is a writer’s thing though perhaps it’s most likely why i don’t understand since all i’ve ever done my whole life is read and not really the type that writes. huhu.

i’m really not complaining or insulting or saying anything bad about or offending the fics, honestly huhu. i just want to learn more about her character and i’m bad at saying things not bluntly :< i tried my best :<

also, if you’re not comfortable with answering posting the answer publicly but still considering to or want to answer my question (i’ve used tumblr for so long but don’t know how asks work) if know a way to kinda hide the ask but answer it and say you want me to dm you about it, i can :<

hello anon! thank you for this analysis that while lengthy, does give me a bit of insight!

I think all your points are valid! about why she’s the one that is the start of the angst, why she pushes him away and not the other way around! I completely get your meaning, and honestly i do see the things you are seeing too!

this is just my personal take on this and how i view sol as being the ‘start’ of angst, why aren’t there fics on joon being the ‘start’ of angst and all, so please do take this with a pinch of salt!

I’ve personally not written any headcanons/fics that are mainly angst centred yet, so I would have to draw on my understanding of sol and joonhwi as characters from law school.

for sol, she’s a big emotional girl. you could see from the way she argues in class, with her friends, with how she reacts all the time. she rides on emotions and uses her heart a little more than her brain. like the bad fama case, she couldn’t give up cause she was emotional about it. like you said, she has a high EQ!

a possible reason to the angst on her part is due to the emotions as well. being someone that follows her heart so closely, she’s easily affected by the people around her and swayed easily. it would make a little more sense for the angst to derive from her, maybe from feeling that she lacks the love for joon. or maybe, a certain incident and she breaks it off.

one other reason is her upbringing. we know that she has biological father that is different from her stepfather. we also know that it is implied that her biological father is not present in her life, and her stepfather is abusive to her mother. as such, this must have been hard on her. imagine growing up in a family far from perfect, would one believe in love? many cases, some say no. they have never seen a healthy relationship before, much less seen one grow in their eyes from young till adulthood. this is the same for sol too. she didn’t see a perfect family, she saw a broken family, no father figure and her mother who endured abuse. this ultimately might make sol think “why is there a need for love? will I end up like my parents? is joon going to leave me, like my biological father did?” it’s undeniable that she might have these thoughts in her mind. thus, it’s a more common catalyst of angst, in a breakup thinking she’s not good enough, or she’s not ready, or undeserving.

as such, most writers might maybe find it easier to draw on this aspect of sol as the angst starter. a short example of this would be in my ongoing “the fairytale you never had (would you believe again?)” fic and in my oneshots “worthy” !

however, I do wonder, “why isn’t joonhwi the one with angst? is sol the only messy one here?” quickly, I thought back to most of the scenes of joonhwi when he is troubled, confused or any sign of him showing emotions.

joonhwi can be an angst starter, but I think it drawn on less since it’s so hard to draw on. from the base line, we know he’s smart. we know he’s probably rich. we know his uncle is the closest person to him. we know his parents died. but all these are just facts, no emotions. in everything that joonhwi does, he does it out of compliance, law abiding, or of a moral code. very few instances does he act of emotions or show a raw side of him.

the only times we could see it would be when he’s confronting his uncle, or the moments with sol later on in the show. he rarely shows emotions, and it’s hard to understand him or his troubles when he doesn’t show many emotions and we don’t know enough about his life. we know he looks up to his uncle, but it’s impossible for him, an orphan, to not miss his parents or have his missing parents not play a role in his development.

thus, his angst would most probably derive from “can i trust her, even after this?”, “is she lying, to cover up something?”, “is sol really the sol I believe in? or was it an entire lie?” his angst would come from one of trust and not from emotions.

i would really love to give a full analysis, but im no good with this. you can always dm me on Twitter or tumblr and we can always have a chat on this! would love to draw from my fellow writer friends to pitch in on this too, since they are honestly better at the analysis. im just a free writer!

thank you anon for you query! do dm me on tumblr/twitter (whichever is comfortable!) and we can discuss more! i’ll keep your identity secret, no worries!

[marshmallowprotection]

Sorry to bring this topic back now, but I'm honestly glad to see you talking about the passport tequila(?) thing. I haven't read your passport post yet because I wanna avoid spoilers for the passport just in case I manage to get it one day (but it'll take a while till that happens, seeing Cheritz still isn't shipping to Finland and I still haven't got the bodypillow I ordered from them in May), but I've seen two pictures of some of its contents already. The second one a photoset of him and MC (which btw was seriously adorable and made me wanna get the passport immediately, man he's so cute) and the first one I saw was the doodle of Saeran being passed out.

My friend messaged me about it, also pretty devastated and disappointed that the artist had drawn something like that in the passport, completely forgetting his past and trauma with alcohol. Honestly, because it was the first ever thing I heard about the passport's contents and the first doodle I saw, I was really disappointed and felt hesitant about ever getting it. I went on a whole rant about it back then and then later started feeling like I overreacted a bit...

But not gonna lie, it kinda upset me too because it just seemed so OOC for him to do? You pretty much already put how I feel about it into words really well. I just don't think he'd drink alcohol, seeing that's pretty much where his trauma came from, and also when I think about the friends and mutuals I have who've had alcoholic parents and swore to never drink themselves thanks to that, and how Saeyoung doesn't wanna drink because of his mum and they share that trauma…

Then after talking about it with a few friends I began to think that hey, maybe he wanted to try it out once and already after ONE sip went "too bitter DX" and didn't want more. He likes sweet stuff anyway, even if he didn't have all the trauma, I doubt his sweet tooth would like the taste of alcohol. The first impression my friend and I got was that he was DRUNK, but nah, now he just looks like he's suffering because it was too bitter lol

But then I saw someone here mention that it might not even be an alcoholic drink (or that he passed out from the heat) and hey, I'm just gonna go ahead and headcanon that now, it was just way too bitter for him

In the end I do think that the artist who worked on that passport wasn't entirely aware of his past, which is a shame. Or just didn't think about it. I think someone told them to "make some cute and funny doodles of him" and they thought "hey drunk Saeran lol that could be funny and cute" without thinking about it more, and that's how the doodle became a thing

You’re still waiting for that? Jesus, I hope that the mail service is able to open up soon for your country and that it’s okay for them to ship things around. It’s been a while now, I would’ve thought that they might have been able to work around to get it to you! Well, precautions are precautions, and those are important when the world is like this but huh. Odd that it’s not working around yet. 

It really unsettled me when I saw it. I thought, “Okay, maybe it’s not actually just straight-up tequila or booze, I can rationalize this away as something else cause it’s really not okay to me.” I know someone said in the post that it’s on the Wiki that Saeran’s not a big fan of soda because it gives him headaches, and I know that feeling, so if one wants to think it’s soda, they can. It’s easy to say, well, it’d be possible that it’s the dry heat of the country and he’s flopped over from that after finally getting something chilled. 

It’s easier for me to rationalize it in that manner instead of saying that it’s alcohol even though it’s clearly intended to be seen as that. I’ve unfortunately got similar trauma and I see myself in the Choi boys. Do you know how rare it can be to find characters that are adults that don’t drink or aren’t invested in drinking culture as a whole? I’m fine with people enjoying their vices and doing things in moderation but—

I just cannot relate to it. I’m nearly 24 and I cannot stand even the smell of that stuff. It’s fine if you enjoy your wine or liquor or whatever, it just feels in such poor taste to draw out someone drinking that has made it very clear that they aren’t comfortable with drinking, and they shouldn’t have to explain out their trauma to have their feelings justified. The whole, “Just one sip, it won’t really hurt you,” is so toxic.

Can’t tell you how many times someone has told me that when I’ve made it very clear that I’m uncomfortable with that and I would rather chug dish soap than be subjected to booze. 

I’m proud of Saeran for how far he’s come in his AE. I sincerely am, emotionally he’s doing so much better and he’s working on himself, but I really don’t see him or his brother ever trying alcohol. There could be a point where maybe they just say, “What the hell did she even see in this? What do people even see in this stuff?” and they try one singular sip, and go: “Yeah, no, this isn’t the thing for me, no thanks.” 

I’m cool with that if that is what they choose to do. It’s their body, their trauma, and their choice. 

Saeyoung and Saeran have very clear trauma from Alcoholism. It’s made very clear from the both of them that they don’t drink. Seven notes that he’s about as straight-laced as they come when it means alcohol or smoking. Unknown can’t really be counted as a smoker, he literally used that as an excuse during the SE to contact Mint Eye. So, I’ve never read him as a smoker, either. It was a good excuse. Neither of them gets involved with addictive vices that are legal for you to use. 

I struggle with fanon content sometimes because I’ll find stories or imagines where the writer has shown Saeyoung or Saeran drinking, and I just have to nope out of that setting. It’s not cute or cheeky. I personally don’t answer any requests that involve the boys drinking because I’ve made my stance very clear on the subject and how I feel about depicting characters that do not want to drink and have made it known that they do not want to drink as drinking. The rest of the RFA? Sure, some of them drink occasionally, fairly in moderation, which is alright. 

The Passport itself is really cute, no spoilers, but that’s the only thing within its contents that made me uncomfortable. The rest of it was definitely worth what I paid for and it made me smile if that’s any comfort to you. It’s just that one little doodle that just... yeah, I think I would go with your theory on this one, and that being that the artist might not have known specifically about the brothers or what they’ve dealt with in their lives, and just went with a cute idea they had and it’s not really anything huge. 

It’s fine to drink and all, but it’s equally important to respect when someone says that they don’t want to do it. That is a personal choice, and I just wish more folks would consider Saeran and Saeyoung’s feelings on the matter since it’s been stated in the canon plenty, specifically by Saeyoung during his Routes events in the game, and you can infer from Saeran fairly easily given what he was subjected to in his life. 

TLDR; It’s fine to drink when you want to do it, and there’s nothing wrong with it in moderation; but, it’s important to respect that not everyone wants to drink or get involved with that sort of stuff. 

[gooberjay]

THE FREE-LANCER, T’SAAVI VANISS

The Basics ––– – Full name: T’saavi Vaniss Race: Seeker of the Sun Miqo’te (Condor Tribe - T) Gender: Female Sexuality: Pansexual Age: 24 Nameday: 12th Sun of the Fourth Umbral Moon

Physical Appearance ––– – Hair: Black with golden streaks Eyes: Heterochromatic - one yellow/one red (caused by dragon’s blood) Height: 5'7" Build: Lean/Muscular Distinguishing Marks: Slight scars across her left cheek and nose. The singular red eye, which seems to glow faintly, and glows brighter when channeling her Dragon Sight. Common Accessories: Typically wears black clothing, form-fitting with gold jewelry, but rarely is ever out of armor.

Personal ––– – Profession: Dragoon, Free-Lancer, Skilled Smith, and Ocean Fisher. Hobbies: Storytelling, boozing, dueling, traveling, and fishing Languages: Common Eorzean, Seeker Tribe Dialects, some Pirates’ Cant, and some conversational Ishgardian. Residence: The Mists, Limsa Lominsa Birthplace: At sea, some miles off the coast of Limsa. Religion: Not terribly religious, but The Twelve and Seeker Tribe faiths  Patron Deity: Azeyma, The Warden

Relationships ––– - Children: None. Parents: Her mother, R’hurana Vaniss, who heads the Vaniss Fishery, and her father, T’vaniss Nunh, who died at the hands of his eldest son and brother to T’saavi. Siblings: T’saava, her older sister, and T’vanze, her older brother. The latter died at the hands of T’saavi in an act of revenge for her father. Other Relatives: R’haja Taiga, her distant Hingan cousin, and T’vordras Tia, her uncle and Ala Mhigan Resistance Fighter. She is also a ward of House DiLouvre of Ishgard, formerly under the tutelage of Lord Thiobert DiLouvre before his death at the hands at Ashardalon, one of Nidhogg’s dark brood, and now headed by Lady Renee DiLouvre. Pets: Less a pet and more of an occasional companion, a Moogle of the Churning Mists by the name of Puerco. Also occasionally accompanied by a dragonling named Fleur. 

Traits ––– - Extroverted / In Between / Introverted Disorganized / In Between / Organized Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded Calm / In Between / Anxious Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable Cautious / In Between / Reckless Patient / In Between /  Impatient Outspoken / In Between / Reserved Leader / In Between / Follower Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic Traditional / In Between / Modern Hard-working / In Between / Lazy Cultured / In Between / Uncultured Loyal / In Between / Disloyal Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– – Smoking Habit:  never / sometimes / frequently / to excess Drugs:  never / sometimes / frequently / to excess Alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

RP Hooks ––– –

► Limsa Lominsa and The Maelstrom: T’saavi’s home - for better and worse - and where both the embrace of family and the shadow of obligation lie. She briefly served with the Maelstrom during the battles against Garlemald in the liberation of Ala Mhigo and Doma. She did -not- particularly enjoy it, however, feeling tied down to strict military roles (even if she was a leading captain!) and having to fight in vicious battles such as the Ghimlyt Dark. Still, she is loyal to the sails and seas of Limsa, and holds Merlwyb in high regard and respect, even if she finds her overbearing and demanding at times. You may know her from her Maelstrom service, or perhaps know of the Vaniss Fishery, and the tragedy that befell it mere weeks before the Seventh Umbral Calamity...

► The Wailing Barracks: Where here journey began, amidst the Twelveswood in Old Gridania. If you were - or are - an aspiring lancer, you may come across her in occasional visits, and if you’re learning, she may even provide you a helpful tip or two! Granted, one of those tips might be the tip of her lance in a lopsided spar... ► Ishgard and the Dragoons: The pinnacle of her journey, where T’saavi the Lancer became T’saavi, the Dragoon, under the tutelage of Lord Thiobert DiLouvre of Ishgard. She will often visit the snow-driven lands of Coerthas to reflect on her journey - perhaps an odd choice for a Seeker of the Sun - and catch up with the DiLouvre family, now led by Thiobert’s wife, Renee, while their young son eventually grows into the role. You may know of her brief service to Ishgard in the waning days of the Dragonsong War, or perhaps know of House DiLouvre and their personal war with one of Nidhogg’s brood, the wicked Ashardalon... ► Adventuring and “Free-Lancing”: Having trouble with some ferocious creatures or scheming ne’er-do-wells? Need to hire a good blade? Why not hire a lance! A free-lance, if you will! Better yet, if you’re tackling a tall task and need someone to swoop in at the last second to hog the glory, T’saavi just might be your Dragoon... ► “Magitek? The Seven Hells is that?”: T’saavi is slowly becoming more technology literate...slowly. If you’re a magitek engineer of any note, you might have a curious miqo’te asking about how most anything works... ► The Odd-Jobs of Ul’dah: Before she became a Free-Lancer, she freelanced around Ul’dah to buy passage to Gridania and start her adventuring proper. You might have seen this enterprising miqo’te - with longer hair at the time - going about and doing odd work for merchants, monetarists, and mercenaries alike!

► A Foodie of Eorzea: T’saavi has recently taken to a new adventure: bar-hopping and perusing new restaurants in search of good meals and better company across Eorzea. If you run a cafe, bar, restaurant, or other eatery establishments, then T’saavi wants a seat at your table and a look at your menu!

Contact/OOC Information  ––– –

Chill 21+ player with occasional workdays (reduced a bit due to current pandemic shenanigans) and who bounces between FFXIV and WoW, among other games.

I’m looking to meet: Most anybody, really. Fellow dragoons/lancers are a plus, as well as anyone with a thirst for adventure and a good cup of ale!

What I want to write: Okay with most themes, ranging from benign to mature, and especially into adventure/spelunking, socializing, and taking on powerful foes to test her skills and might! Worth noting: T’saavi is pretty friendly once you get to know her, but she can be all business on the battlefield, and that might be both a good and bad thing. Good in that she is reliable and a strong ally in a tough fight. Bad in that she’s a lone wolf a lot of the time, and will try to direct the flow of battle, even against the strategies of others. She’s not afraid to butt heads, but generally, is both serviceable and somewhat loyal to a cause.

(( prompt borrowed from @avablackstone and also tagging @mooglemeet and @crystalxivrp! Am a former Mateus RPer on Goblin to hang out with my RL friends in their FC. ))

(( ADDENDUM: I meant to post this to @tsaavivaniss aaaaaaa fug pls visit and follow that page for future T’saavi blurbs ))

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Son of Grog

A while after seeing the ‘YOU CAN’T SEE GROG!’ post, I decided to make my own intimidation-based Half-Orc rogue for our groups next one-shot. Our characters began unacquainted, so we got to skip character introduction, which was to my great fortune because I got to screw with the entire group.

No one knows anyone else’s race or class because of this, but assumptions can be made easily based on bits of information being given away as needed. because I played a half-orc, I did a ton of damage in combat, so the party assumed I was a fighter (Not a barbarian because I couldn’t use rage), although they were curious as to my use of light weapons.

Later on, we are tasked with planting a magical explosive device in the heart of an antipaladin fortress and the following ensues.

Dm: “You have arrived at the rear of the fortress, which you have concluded to be the weakest point of their defenses. This means the concentration of guards is the smallest. However, they are still clearly very well-trained and would be a challenge to fight.”

Other player 1: Obviously we’re supposed to sneak past them, right?

Other player 2: Does anyone have a high DEX?

Me: I do.

The entire table looks at me, puzzled.

Me: Why do you think I use twin daggers? I have the weapon finesse feat. I’ve been attacking with my DEX modifier this whole time.

P1: …Oh my God, he’s a rouge!

P2: We all thought you were a fighter!

Other player 3: It doesn’t matter what we thought he was, he’s a rogue regardless, so he should have a high stealth modifier. Send him in.

P1: Yeah, okay, we’ll send in our half-orc who’s apparently a rogue…

DM: Alright, [Me], I’ll need you to make a series of stealth checks.

I only needed to make four. Keep in mind that as I made him intimidation based like Grog, I had no ranks in stealth. I succeed the first three with my high DEX, but on the last one I fail miserably.

DM: “The last guard turns to see you long before you even pass him.”

Guard 4: “Hey! What are you doing up here! Why am I even asking that; no one else is allowed up here anyway! *To his other guards* Seize him!”

Me: I’m surprised I even made it this far.

P2: What do you mean?

Me: I didn’t actually put any ranks into stealth.

P3: Wait, seriously?

Me: Seriously. My DEX is so high I didn’t think I would need them.

P1: You idiot! Why would you, a rogue, not put ONE rank into stealth!?

Me: They all went to a different skill.

Entire table, simultaneously: WHAT SKILL!?

Me: You’re about to find out.

Me: Once the guards have come close enough, I clear my throat, take a deep breath and shout… “YOU CAN’T SEE RUM!!!”

The entire party just gives my this weird look for like, a full minute. Then:

DM: You son of a bitch.

He starts laughing like crazy. No one else gets it, so the DM pulls up the original 'You can’t see Grog’ post. I think what really got him though is that both Grog and my rogue, Rum, are both named after booze. Everyone recognizes the meme on sight, and the table becomes a mix of groaning and laughter. Then the DM asks me to roll for intimidation. After modifiers the roll was a 29.

DM: “The guards suddenly cower in fear, repeating over and over, 'We can’t see you, Mr. Rum, Sir! We can’t see you!’ and allow you to pass.”

After I plant the magic explosive device and escape before it goes off, thus completing the main objective of the one-shot (Not without many more shouts of 'YOU CAN’T SEE RUM!’):

P2: May I just say you fooled us ALL and that we never caught on to this?

Me: You may, and you just did. Thanks. Also, [DM], can we go back to you calling my rogue OOC a son of a bitch?

DM: Sure, what about it?

Me: It was two bitches. They were Grog and his lady friend, Swill.

The entire table absolutely lost it. We were so distracted from the one-shot at this point that the DM just described how it ended since we already completed the main objective.

[selectedhq]

there’s  a  huff  ,  a  stomp  of  heels  against  the  wooden  floor  &  the  creak  of  the  door  opening  to  show  the  beautiful  tahani  ,  although  her  expression  filled  with  anger  at  the  interruption  that  she  knew  was  going  to  be  happening  -  although  not  this  soon  .

‘‘  about  forking  time  .  michael  called  us  twenty  minutes  ago  ,  tahani  .  ’’  that  damned  shellstrop  having  to  put  in  her  town  cents  ,  as  if  tahani  hadn’t  been  aware  of  what  had  been  sent  to  her  &  when  it  had  been  sent  .  crossing  the  floor  to  sit  at  the  circle  desk  that  was  in  michael’s  office  ,  folding  her  hands  in  a  womanly  manner  on  top  of  the  table  .  ‘‘  i  am  more  than  aware  of  my  needed  presence  ,  although  i  hope  that  this  is  bloody  important  because  my  party  is  finally  not  a  disaster  &  i  would  like  to  enjoy  it  .  ’’  she  said  in  a  matter  of  fact  voice  .

‘‘  very  well  -  kimmy  ,  please  track  the  minutes  for  this  meeting  &  save  them  in  the  meetings  file  on  the  log  .  ’’  michael  commented  as  he  opened  up  his  books  ,  looking  towards  his  fellow  architects  .

december  31st  ,  11:30  pm  .  meeting  about  the  southside  opening  &  glitches  in  the  universe  .

michael  :  the  southside  has  just  a  few  more  finishing  touches  on  some  buildings  ,  although  it  is  no  longer  off  limits  .  the  sinkhole  has  also  been  taken  care  of  in  the  northside  -  school  will  begin  once  again  .  the  southside  still  is  finding  it’s  feel  ,  therefore  at  the  moment  it  will  be  dedicated  to  artwork  and  a  few  shopping  malls  .

eleanor  :  don’t  we  have  enough  shopping  malls  ?  oh  -----  what  about  a  bowling  alley  ?  we  could  even  hire  a  few  people  to  pretend  to  be  the  pins  .

chidi  :  that  is  extremely  unethical  ,  eleanor  .

michael  :  off  topic  .  the  glitches  have  gotten  the  attention  of  many  people  within  the  good  place  .  betty  cooper  being  one  them  ,  along  with  some  stragglers  who  want  to  act  cool  .  jessica  hamby  ,  anakin  skywalker  ,  dallas  winston  ----

jason  :  not  to  step  on  your  toes  ,  but  if  there  was  a  sinkhole  back  in  florida  i’d  wanna  check  it  out  .

eleanor  :  you  also  have  a  previous  vampire  ,  gang  member  &  evil  alien  on  that  list  .

tahani  :  i  doubt  he  was  an  actual  alien  ,  eleanor

michael  :  again  ,  off  topic  .  bowling  alley  is  a  wonderful  idea  ,  although  there  will  be  no  torturing  .  there  are  actual  good  people  here  to  balance  ,  you  were  aware  of  this  upon  making  the  good  place  .  elizabeth  march  ,  peter  parker  ,  what  about  that  luke  patterson  guy  ?  we  can’t  be  causing  harm  to  those  that  belong  here  .

chidi  :  still  ,  unethical  .  everyone  should  be  aware  of  their  duties  here  .

jason  :  what  are  their  duties  here  ?

eleanor  :  did  you  pay  any  attention  to  the  first  meeting  ,  jason  ?

michael  :  they  will  get  to  know  their  duties  in  due  time  ,  fellow  architects  .  we  have  yet  to  work  out  the  kinks  &  make  sure  that  everyone  is  comfortable  in  their  new  life  .  those  that  do  not  believe  they  belong  here  ,  have  to  understand  that  they  are  here  for  a  reason  before  we  openly  explain  their  duties  here  in  the  good  place  -  especially  when  it  comes  to  certain  people  that  love  to  defy  rules  .

tahani  :  very  well  ,  is  that  all  ?  i’m  sure  that  the  bar  is  getting  low  in  stock  &  when  i  left  ,  there  were  two  males  attempting  to  sing  karaoke  without  a  karaoke  box  &  that  is  far  from  allowed  at  my  elegant  party  .

michael  :  i  suppose  .  although  we  will  have  to  meet  later  in  the  week  ,  making  sure  that  we  begin  to  plan  out  more  things  for  the  south  side  .

kimmy  smiled  &  poked  her  nose  ,  allowing  the  members  to  know  that  they  were  free  to  speak  without  having  to  worry  about  being  put  on  the  notes  that  were  saved  in  the  meetings  file  .  jason  was  the  first  to  talk  ,  leaning  back  in  his  seat  to  play  with  the  strings  to  his  hat  -  a  hat  that  was  definitely  not  necessary  .  ‘‘  i’ve  been  quite  bored  of  what’s  going  on  around  here  .  i  thought  i  signed  up  for  some  entertainment  ,  dude  .  ’’  he  stated  ,  poking  michael  under  the  table  with  his  toe  .  ‘‘  do  not  touch  me  ,  jason  .  ’’  michael  said  quickly  ,  packing  up  his  things  .  

eleanor  was  already  beginning  to  make  her  way  back  down  to  the  party  ,  tahani  by  her  side  ,  as  if  eleanor  was  going  to  miss  out  on  more  free  booze  .  chidi  is  found  moving  back  &  forth  in  the  room  ,  hands  in  his  pockets  as  he  bites  his  tongue  for  as  long  as  he  can  .  ‘‘  ethically  speaking  ---  ’’  but  he’s  cut  off  by  jason’s  groan  ,  soon  a  foot  stomping  on  the  floor  with  a  dramatic  nature  .  ‘‘  dude  ,  this  ethnically  bullshirt  is  just  getting  on  everyone’s  nerves  .  we’re  babysitting  dead  people  &  they  aren’t  even  zombies  .  ’’  

an  eye  roll  ,  michael  leaves  the  last  two  architects  in  the  office  ,  the  silence  hitting  them  both  .  the  close  is  dangerously  close  to  midnight  as  the  pair  begin  their  argument  .  jason  wanting  to  team  with  eleanor  to  torture  some  of  the  residents  while  chidi  is  drowning  him  out  with  ethical  purposes  &  statements  that  jason  could  barely  follow  from  the  large  words  that  were  being  thrown  at  him  .  

‘‘  come  on  dude  ----  i  mean  ,  listen  ---  hear  me  out  !  not  actual  torture  ,  like  emotional  turmoil  ---  like  when  you  have  to  make  a  decision  .  ’’  jason  suggested  ,  leaning  on  the  desk  .  ‘‘  that’s  just  rude  ,  it  is  not  my  fault  that  i  must  weigh  all  my  option  before  i  begin  to  think  of  a  dedicated  decision  .  ’’  chidi  stated  ,  hearing  the  clock  ticking  .  they  were  only  a  few  minutes  away  from  midnight  &  tahani  was  going  to  have  both  him  &  jason  thrown  out  of  the  good  place  if  they  were  not  there  for  the  new  year  .  ‘‘  i  mean  ,  there  was  this  one  time  ,  that  i  had  a  dream  that  i  made  it  really  big  in  florida  .  like  everyone  was  yellin’  my  name  ,  right  man  ?  then  i  woke  up  &  people  were  only  yelling  my  name  because  they  thought  i  was  dead  with  how  still  i  was  .  kind  of  depressing  .  i  mean  ----  dude  ,  we  could  fork  with  their  memories  .  ’’

right  then  ,  a  loud  boom  echoed  in  the  good  place  ,  a  very  slight  shift  in  the  ground  &  it’s  chidi’s  eyes  that  give  away  when  happened  -  jason’s  hand  resting  on  the  button  .  the  button  only  michael  was  supposed  to  touch  .  ‘‘  ah  -----------  shirt  .  ’’  he  muttered  ,  looking  up  at  chidi  with  an  innocent  smile  .

ooc  information

the  event  is  now  over  !  although  we’re  perfectly  okay  if  you  need  to  continue  those  threads  .  there  is  no  stop  date  for  these  threads  ,  just  please  tag  accordingly  &  do  not  make  any  new  starters  (  closed  or  open  )

the  purpose  of  this  plotdrop  is  :  while  jason  was  talking  about  a  good  memory  that  turned  sour  upon  waking  up  ,  his  hand  was  on  the  ‘  idea  alert  ’  button  .  your  characters  best  memory  will  now  be  edited  in  their  mind  to  be  their  absolute  worst  memory  .

who  would  we  be  as  a  multifandom  rp  if  we  didn’t  fuck  with  memories  ?

your  characters  memory  would  have  changed  during  their  time  sleeping  ,  having  the  good  memory  as  their  dream  only  to  wake  up  &  realize  that  it  was  just  that  ----  a  dream  .  causing  them  to  have  the  fake  memories  that  begin  to  take  over  the  good  memory  .

you  can  pick  any  good  memory  ,  including  the  best  memory  used  from  the  questionnaire  or  a  memory  that  caused  them  to  be  how  they  are  .

example  :  beck  best  memory  was  the  beginning  of  her  career  after  her  book  about  peach  -  she’s  going  to  wake  up  &  believe  that  she  never  got  to  be  a  writer  because  no  one  took  on  her  book  .

now  ,  your  character  may  accept  these  memories  or  they  may  challenge  them  -  believing  that  there  once  was  a  good  memory  in  its  place  .

this  can  be  played  out  in  threads  ,  memes  ,  headcanon  posts  or  even  a  closed  self  para  !

the  southside  is  also  open  ,  it  is  more  recreational  &  if  you  ask  for  something  to  be  put  in  the  southside  ,  it  will  appear  within  a  few  hours  once  kimmy  is  given  the  information  .  

school  is  back  in  session  ,  if  you  would  like  to  join  -  kimmy  has  the  outline  of  each  class  if  you  would  like  to  ask  her  anything  .

if  you  have  questions  -  don’t  hesitate  to  ask  !

[gildedhq]

BIENVENIDO A IBIZA!

Nobody knows how it all started: perhaps with a whisper, a joke gone too far, a playful suggestion taken too seriously—but whispered fantasies soon begin to materialise, and soon preparations were made. After dinner is over, a plane is chartered and all those willing to escape into the night were invited to meet on a private hangar somewhere in Rome Ciampino. Free from the shackles of a formal event, and away from the leering eyes of those who would otherwise disapprove, adventurous members and initiates alike seemingly meet each other anew once more. And as the sun starts setting on Rome, the chartered jet finally takes off, bringing with it a crew of hedonists and libertines with more money than they knew what to do with and all the world as their oyster to pluck. 

THE SOCIETY ESCAPES TO IBIZA.

As their plane lands on Ibiza, glittering turquoise waves and picture-perfect white sand beaches welcome them in all their glory. A member-exclusive five-star hotel and resort had been cleared out for their perusal through the generosity of one Felix Salamanca, using his influence (and money) as if to seemingly endear himself to the members in a show of goodwill. Elsewhere, Oliver Vaga was put in charge of the booze, bolstering the rather impressive selection that the resort already has while entertainment of a more lewd sort was seemingly spoken for by the Duchess of Norfolk. In other places still, in the dark corners and in spots you’d only know if you’re in the know, illicit substances gets traded and given away like candy, spoken for by the heir to the Duchies of Escalona and Frìas. The beach is also populated by the faces of people who walk through catwalks and the like, all of them seemingly familiar with Milo Baptiste, who receives them with the traditional European cheek kisses and a warm smile. Everywhere one looks, some place or location seems to be filled to the brim with the promise of a good time, all dancing to the beat of a DJ invited last minute by the Princess von Thurn und Taxis. This is no formal dinner party, and they are in Rome no longer. Instead, they are unleashed, wild and free, into the night and the welcoming embrace of Ibiza.

THE IBIZA BEACH PARTY.

Pop-up bars: Here, the drinks are free-flowing and endless; but they serve no mere middling fare here. Instead, Ace of Spades and Dom Pérignon bottles are passed around from one hand to another, the fount from which they come from seemingly a gift that keeps on giving. Bartenders are on standby, ready to assist with the creation of any cocktail that one’s heart desires. 

Fire performers and fire shows: As the darkness of night descends, luminous fires are set which dazzle all those who see it. Golden-orange flames dance like spiders in the dark night, bodies contorting in graceful movements, burning embers falling down performers' throats for the sole purpose of entertainment of those who watch. For the brave and daring, the dancers may even come close and dance with them, drawing excitement and adrenaline.

Chartering a yacht: As evening slips into night slips into early morning, those who still have the energy to carry on find themselves congregating into one place. It starts out like how this whole escapade starts out: a joke met with laughter before a certain enterprising someone says why not? Before they know it, they charter a superyacht and begin sailing into the seas, floating on until the light of the dawn catches them at long last.

THE OLD VANGUARD REACTS.

In the morning after, blurry pictures get posted in middling gossip sites and sites dedicated to tracking the activities of royals and nobility alike. While the pictures are by no means damning—simply showcasing a night of carefree, liquor-filled fun and nothing more scandalous than that—it is more than clear to society members with a hawkish eye where the other members and initiates have gone to after dinner. While some of them have been made aware of the party to Ibiza, some of them still have fallen prey to the embrace of sleep never knowing of such developments. While a few are amused at such antics, some still are outraged at such actions. Yet as they all depart one by one from Rome, their purpose here fulfilled, it seems as if there is no choice but to stew in their anger—unless they have the initiative to contact other members by themselves.

OOC NOTE.

We now have the second-parter to Gilded’s first event! Just to recap: this event is optional, so if you don’t see your character joining in on the party, please don’t feel at all pressured to make them join in! You are all also free to continue on existing threads and the like, should you so wish, so there is also no pressure to wrap them up or even drop them. Think of this event as less of a requirement and more like an add-on to the first one. For the purposes of this event, you are free to write your character as either having been invited and turned down the invitation or having been snubbed, whichever works best for your character! 

Otherwise, however, please feel free to post starters, edits, playlists, and other stuff related to the event with the tag gilded:ibiza. There will be no restrictions on setting character interactions, as your character may or may not have attended the Ibiza Beach Party, so feel free to set your starters whenever and wherever!

————— THIS EVENT WILL RUN FOR ONE WEEK FROM  [ 28TH OF APRIL 4PM GMT / 12NN EASTERN ]  TO  [ 5TH OF MAY 4PM GMT / 12NN EASTERN ]

[romera-rp]

Come one, come all to the glorious days o’ pumpkins! To continue the joviality of the end of summer, the unofficial period of silliness and merrymaking across Hegaehend has been dubbed “The Pumpkin Days.” Throughout the country there will be Autumnal themed activities for you to participate in to your hearts desire. Do you like pumpkins? Fire colored nature? Long nights sitting by a campfire? Cinnamon? Alcoholic and non-alcoholic apple juice? How about woolen sweaters? If not, then this will be an aggravating time for you. 

IN CHARACTER DETAILS

This event will take place from 1st October to 12th October and your threads may take place anywhere and anytime during those dates. Like the Autumn Equinox festival, this is a time of calm and happiness when the war seems like a far-off dream and no danger could possibly be lurking around the corner. Below there are activities in which your character can participate in, witness, or completely scorn and ignore. 

ACTIVITIES

Pumpkin Boat Racing

Head over to Pineridge for their annual pumpkin boat racing. Join an existing armada (the Hegaehend archers, knights, and clerics all have their own teams) or form your own in an attempt to carve and decorate the best giant pumpkin boat the country has ever seen! Perhaps you just want to watch and cheer on your favourites in which case apple cider, honey mead, and pumpkin-themed foods will be served throughout the vicinity. Midday, many times throughout the month, when the sun is highest, all those who have entered in the race will row their pumpkin boat down the river just north of Pineridge to the finish line. The first there wins 25gp and a handknit sweater with a pumpkin on it. 

Zombie Kitten Curing

No kittens were harmed in the making of the zombie kittens. Instead there has been an overabundance in new kitten litters in Khaggon and in an effort to redistribute the population of felines, many shops owners, farmers, and citizens who do not want twelve cats have come together to offer this adoption event. You are put in a small arena near Tarjtier Farmer’s Market full of lively kittens who have been colored green. Some, like the white kittens and tabbies, are remarkably green while the black and grey kittens are more murky. If you manage to catch a kitten (three animal handling rolls above 18) you have the option to adopt the kitten. Please note, it not advisable for those without a permanent residence to adopt. 

Tommen Haus’ Haunted House

Someplace intriguing and odd in Khaggon there is an old house. It is a fancy house. It’s an agéd house. And for this month only, it’s a haunted house! Step right up, step right up to Tommen Haus’ Haunted House. Inside you will find aberrations (stuffed), ghouls (fake), nightmares beyond your very own nightmares (rented), and all manner of goo and gore and grit and also glitter (available for purchase at the gift shop at the end). So brave adventurer, will you step foot into Tommen Haus’ horror mansion? Entrance is 15cp and at the end of the month the house will be put up for purchase (decorations not included).

Ghost Hunting

Have you ever noticed bloodied movement out of the corner of your eye in Khaggon’s fight club? Movement too smooth or too stilted to truly be alive? Or perhaps deep in the archives of the Academy of the Arcane… sometimes the library stacks become oddly cold, don’t you think? No one can prove that ghosts aren’t voyeurs and the spooks of La Roche Moussue, the Runswick bathhouse, definitely are. Maybe they’re disgruntled patrons? Perhaps they slipped on the bubbles. The Blackmore Lady, an abandoned ship in Arx’s Whale Water port, creaks and shrieks and howls with the best of them! If there are ghosts to be found anywhere, it’d be that loud, obnoxious boat. Oh, and the entirety of Myrefall is just… well, you know. 

Lord Horcryn’s Autumnal Bonanza

If you luck out and receive an invitation, head over to join the spooky, saucy, severely salacious parties of Lord Horcryn at the Heartfire Quarter in Runswick. Parties will take place all night 5th October and 12th October. All the alcohol possible will be served alongside phenomenal and amazing delicacies. The company will be sparkling, the booze spilling, and anything that can be pumpkin shaped will be pumpkin shaped. Spare bedrooms are in abundance in the large manor for anyone with desire to get more private during the evening. Unfortunately, these private rooms are not pumpkin shaped. 

Lord Horcryn is also looking for a new host. His normal host, Mapel Simsees, hasn’t shown up for work in several days. He’s reported her missing, and prays she’ll return, but in the meantime needs help.

OOC DETAILS FOR ACTIVITIES

While this event will in canon take place between 1st October to 12th October, but you do not need to end your threads come 12th October. 

There will be a second event dropping on that day and that event will run until 9th November. 

You’re welcome to continue your Pumpkin Days threads until then as well. 

Feel free to continue your storylines throughout this event, however, if you plan on having event-independent threads taking place, but wish to participate in the second event, don’t have them take place after October 12th. This will become clear later, but any threads will be in conflict with the event if you take part. 

Make sure you tag your posts with romevent as well as ��Pumpkin Days.” 

CONTESTS

Here’s a fun chance to win something from Periwinkleton’s Keep of Shops regardless of your accumulated points! Head on over to Isla’s favourite place anytime during the month of October for a chance to win something fantabulous, miraculous, funky, ridiculous, maybe helpful, and random! 

Isla Periwinkleton’s First Annual Pumpkin Carving Contest

Note: Carved squash are also permissible. Free candy to all that participate. Enter your carved pumpkin masterpiece for a chance to win a random item (except for real estate) from Periwinkleton’s Keep of Shops!

No need to get an actual pumpkin or squash unless you want to. This can be a doodle of a Jack o’ Lantern on a sticky note, a full blown portrait of a pumpkin, a pixel art rendition of a seasonal squash, or really anything squash-like and also “carved.” The goal is for the dash to be covered in mismatched pumpkin art. 

You may make as many as you like, but only the first submission will be counted towards the contest. 

To keep it totally mysterious, the item is not currently in stock.

Suri Schneider’s Costume Contest

Come garbed in your loveliest lace, your cookiest couture, and you’re most likeable lingerie—wait, no, don’t do that… Unless it’s halloween themed in which case by all means. Enter for a chance to win a breathtakingly constructed mystery item from Suri Schneider’s garment shop Fine Fineries & Great Garments. (Written by Felipe at the behest of Suri.)

Post what your character would wear for Halloween! This can be what they would be in Romera, meaning more fantasy and medieval based costumes, and/or can be a more modern rendition.

These posts are like the outfit posts we did for the Masyarakat Ball. 

To keep it totally mysterious, the item is not currently in stock.

Felipe’s Fantabulous Flambé Trick Bounty: Open to all.

Play a lovely little tricksy-wicksy on a friend, foe, or fiend and write-in to Felipe’s shop with the glorious and gloomy details for a chance to win a mystery item from Felipe’s joke shop.

This entry can be a drabble/self-para about your character playing a prank or trick on someone or a thread between two or more people playing a prank/pranking one another. 

Everyone involved in a thread will have a submission counted towards the contest.

To keep it totally mysterious, the item is not currently in stock.

Please note that nothing is flambed unless you make it so, Felipe just ran out of ‘F’ words for the title.

OOC DETAILS FOR CONTESTS

You can participate in each contest as many times as you like, but only your first submission will be counted. 

You may also enter in all of the contests, but cannot win more than one of them. 

You have until 31st October to enter and at the end of the month all of the entries will be counted and the winner shall be announced on the Keep of Shop’s page by the respective shop owner.

In order to enter, please submit to the Keep blog with a link to your submission post just like you would your weekly points. These don’t need to be in character, but feel free to do so in character.

Remember to tag your submissions with the appropriate contest name. As an example, if Efrain enters the costume contest, his entry post will be tagged with: “romevent,” and “Suri Schneider’s Costume Contest.”

EXTRA WAYS TO EARN POINTS THIS OCTOBER

10gp - Participate in any or all of the contests. Receive the reward for each one you enter.

20 gp - Write a self-para about your character getting frightened, either through true trauma or a from spider appearing next to them and giving them the willies. 

20gp -Write a self-para or do a thread involving the Missing Persons Warnings.

30 gp - Go ghost hunting! Or… get ghost hunted.

15gp - Participate in the kitten competition or the pumpkin boat races either in a self-para or in a thread with someone also participating. 

30gp - Attend one of Lord Horcryn’s parties either as a guest or an employee. (Runswick)

20gp - Take a wander through Tommen Haus’ Haunted House with a friend or several. (Khaggon)

[ohlukcs]

( alex wolff, male ) did you hear how LUKAS TOZER is applying to columbia university as a FILM & MEDIA STUDIES major ?! the 19 year old is living in the WALLACH HALL. i heard that they got in because they are + PASSIONATE and +THOUGHTFUL, but honestly i think HE can be -ASSUMING and -CYNICAL. they’re a real MAVERICK. oh well, only time will tell if the SOPHOMORE will make it til the end.

about the mun !!

hi hello my name is sam (she/her), im 22, and im a big fat mess at all times :) um but a lil more about me is that i’m australian and a recently graduated film student lmao. i’ve been rping for like ten years now i think idk but i am a NERVOUS BITCH !!!!!!! and it sometimes takes me forever to reply to things (ic and ooc) bc of that so pls be patient with me lmao. anyway, happy 2 be here !! if u like this post i’m gonna assume u wanna plot with me and my idiot and hit u up !!! lets mcfreakin lose it !!!!

about lukas !!

full name: lukas joshua tozer

nickname(s): luk-ass idk whatever u can come up with lmao

age: nineteen

gender: cis male

pronouns: he/him

hometown: jackson, new jersey

date of birth: nov 4th

occupation: student ( film and media studies, sophomore ), cook/server at a nearby 24hr pizza joint

relationship status: single

drink / smoke / drugs: yes / yes / yes

faceclaim: alex wolff

positive traits: passionate, thoughtful, creative, ambitious, untethered, humorous

negative traits: assuming, cynical, insensitive, rebellious, resentful, irresponsible

if he was in a hogwarts house: slytherin

now some more dot points that are just me talking about lukas !!

was born in fort lauderdale florida but there is a vERY low chance he will ever admit that, he’ll just say he’s from new jersey. as far as he’s concerned, he’s always been from new jersey even if his family did move there after he turned twelve

speaking of things lukas probably wont ever tell u but i’m including them anyway: his family is kind of messy. not majorly but like a little bit more than average. he had two brothers, now he only has one. i’m not gonna include a whole lot of nitty gritty here i’ll save it for when i write the real bio and can actually do it justice but its the reason they moved from florida and it has had a pretty major effect on lukas over time obviously

he’s the baby of the family and he’s pretty much always been treated like one. it has left him pretty immature and irresponsible. still learning that his actions have consequences and that he cant just be a total dick all the time. he’s improved in those areas a fair bit since he started at columbia a year ago but he still has a long way to go

he didn’t ever really expect to go to columbia, he’s from a middle class family and his dad didn’t even go to college. he applied for columbia just as a might as well give it a go thing. like maybe it will happen. they had a film course and although the course itself isn’t really great, the connections to the industry available at columbia were valuable enough for him to try. he was wait listed up until basically the last minute, preparing to go to a college in boston instead but when he was accepted he knew he had to go. for himself, for his family, and for his lost brother.

obviously irresponsible attitude has led to some Bad Decision Making including but not limited to partying and drugs. he doesn’t prioritise that lifestyle over his school work (bc he knows how lucky he is to be at columbia at all) but he is a big believer that you need to experience things to be a great artist and he plans on being the greatest artist so bad decision town here we come !!!!

he has a pet goldfish named michael bublé pls dont nark

for more info on him click here to check his about page, no bio there yet but hopefully soon

wanted connections babey !!

course friends/rivals/anything: i am writing these before acceptances happen so i have no good god damn idea if any other characters are film majors but hit me the hell up if they are bc i would love to plot some stuff out

old roommate(s) : lukas was probably an entertaining roommate but probably verged on annoying pretty easily. he’s messy, gross, probably didn’t respect the do ur fucking dishes rule in first year ( probs still doesnt tbh ). but he also has a password to every streaming account plus a phat hard drive full of movies and shows that he is absolutely willing to share with u so just depends what ur into i guess. maybe this connection led to friendship or maybe they hate each other now. im down for either/both 

dealer: hi welcome back to bad decision town. lukas isn’t into any hard stuff but is a big weed smoker (to my understanding medicinal cannabis is allowed but lukas def doesn’t have a prescription), then after that it’s kind of just experimenting. will chat more details if u wanna take this connection

booze leachers: so yes lukas is 19 but he has four, thats right, four fake ids. he is not willing to give u his contact for fake ids but he is willing to buy u booze if u pay him. dont hate the player hate the game

gang gang: pretty much just a close group of friends. i imagine all pretty relaxed, all pretty chill. idk what to say here except i want people to care about him and let him put on dumb movies and watch them with him and probably have dumb matching stick and poke tattoos and hog a communal tv to play mario kart but lets talk about it

fast food workers deserve respect too: as mentioned, lukas works at a 24hr pizza joint near campus which means he’s seen some shit. one of the things he’s seen multiple times is drunk student trashing the place. whether it be vomit, forgetting how to hold a cup, or bet try at a food fight lukas has seen it and he’s cleaned it up too. this connection could be that maybe he helped someone out and cleaned them up and got them back to campus when their friends ditched and now they look out for lukas too and its a positive connection. or maybe lukas hates their guts and spits on their food whenever they show up ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who’s to say

hot girl bummer by blackbear: now listen here’s an angsty connection i want, and i def want to plot it out way more with whoever takes it on but basic outline of what i have in mind: they’ve kind of sort of been dating for a while but they’re just falling out of whatever they had to begin with. they were never official, they probs def fucked around with other people while they were ““““together”””””, lots of oh sorry ur taking it so seriously i thought we were just chilling bullshit. all of this girls friends probs hate lukas and he definitely hates them back. were probably once really good friends and had a really good time together but they’ve lost it. will they find it again or will it fizzle out? lets find out together xoxo

new girl(s) : i hate the connection title too but i couldnt think of anything better. we’re in bad decision town and now we’re going to thot street babey. since things have been falling apart with hot girl bummer and even before that lukas a little bit of a thottie. this doesnt mean he’s good at it, please also feel free for a part of this to be that they rejected lukas and he got butt hurt about it idk lukas being attracted to them is basically this whole idea and i would wanna plot the rest of it more depending on specific characters wooo

lukas is a bad influence: if u have gotten this far u may have noticed that lukas is not a very good influence at all. this is someone probs his age or younger that wants to loosen up and have a good time and lukas completely encourages that. bonus points if this connection is a combo with the above connection bc lukas is a gross boi and would be like wow listening to my bad ideas thats so sexy and cool of u ya know. but also doesnt have to be that ! could just be lukas thinks its funny and thinks that someone listening to him is just like good content that could get him on barstool

lukas is badly influenced: this is basic as hell but someone that tells him to leave his impluse control at the door and encourages him to be trash. probs older than him and i def see this as more of a masc connection than a fem but like all my plot ideas: lets talk about it. this one probs v much depends on ur character so gonna leave this one nice and short

lukas is good-ly (??????) influenced: also basic as hell and p much just the opposite of above. someone who is a good influence on lukas. encourages creativity and ambition instead of straight up recklessness. again, i see it as an older character but no gender seen here. a lot of this would be based around ur character so lets chat

michael bublé’s co parents: lukas has a goldfish named michael bublé (or just michael), i picture him having got it while high as heck during the day and just being like This Is A Good Idea. maybe ur character was with him and they were co parents from the start or maybbe they came into the picture later ??? i’m honestly down for whichever just give michael the love he deserves pls

and probably just about anything else these are just some ideas, i totally wanna plot further and brainstorm so please still hmu if none of these fit ur character we’ll plot something up !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mythicamagic]

Macaria - Chapter One

Sesskag fic

Post-apocalypse AU. Human women were all but wiped out when the demons took over. What few remain have gone into hiding or concealed their true gender. When Kagome hears news of an orphaned little girl, she'll stop at nothing to protect her from the dangers of the world- including the city of demons and the infamous Killing Perfection. But is he friend or foe? 

I’ll only be posting the first chapter of this fic on tumblr, the rest can be found on my Ao3, Fanfiction.Net or Dokuga accounts via the same username.

Warning: This fic will contain dark themes (as I'm sure you've guessed since reading the summery.) So yes, there will be rape, allusions to sexual assault and general apocalypse grim stuff. If you are easily triggered by rape or allusions to rape, I suggest not reading this. A warning will be placed at the start of each chapter if they contain sensitive material.

One thing I will spoil right off the bat is to say that Rin won't be the victim of this. I don't really care if that kills any suspense, I just don't want you guys worrying about if I'll write something that grim. Women are essentially seen as cattle or tools for achieving status or pleasure in this AU, but I ain't no George RR Martin. Kagome will probably come across as a tad OOC in the beginning but circumstances have shaped her into someone rougher.

Chapter One

Dryness coated her tongue, and she swallowed, trying to push away thirst in vain. Water sloshed like a loud, constant reminder within her container, but Kagome ignored it. She needed to save it. Just in case.

She was unused to water being so scarce, but she'd trekked further out into unfamiliar territory than initially planned. The wildlife in her area had been thinned a little too much, numbers dwindling. Kagome hoped it was just a case of the animals moving to new locations and not over hunting, but she suspected the latter.

Hearing something like an engine, Kagome dropped down onto her stomach. She was uncaring when her chin scraped a rock, barely reacting as she kept low. The dirt road a little ways to her left had been a good way of keeping track of her location on the map, but it didn't come without dangers.

A cloud of dirt was kicked up, engine roaring as a truck lurched around a corner. Kagome could hear laughter as she stayed still, hidden by the thin bushes. As tires screeched on the ground, throwing dried earth into the air, the vehicle raced along the roads, climbing higher up the hill and disappearing around another corner. Kagome exhaled, holding still and pressing her ear to the earth. Not sensing the tell-tale slight tremors of more cars, she stood.

Dusting herself off, Kagome removed a twig from her short black hair, which had been pulled back into a ponytail. She adjusted her clothing over her flat chest, double and then triple checking her bindings hadn't come loose.

She then continued walking like nothing had occurred. But her heartbeat was racing.

Unscrewing the lid, Kagome took a swig from her container.

She'd had to make camp, allowing herself sleep just a few hours during the day before pressing on again.

After reaching the trading site a little later into the afternoon, Kagome glanced over her map, warily approaching. She liked summer. Despite the heat and the way sweat pricked the back of her neck, Kagome found it much preferable to the approaching Autumn, dreading the Winter on its heels. The days were already growing colder, never mind the longer nights.

Dusty old caravans and trailers that looked as though they'd been stationary for decades awaited her. Kagome rapped on the metal side of one, lingering in the shade.

"Eh? Who is it?" A slurring voice rang out. Kagome eased back as an old man stumbled out from the trailer, nose red and eyes half-lidded. She could smell the booze even before spying the bottle in his hand.

"I'm just passing through. Is it okay if I use your well?" She asked in her usual gruff voice, having gotten used to roughing the edges of her natural one. The man eyed her for just a little too long, but Kagome didn't react. "If you have any wears for trading, I'll take a look at those too," she threw in.

His mouth stretched wide beneath his white, bushy moustache. "That's more like it," he said amiably, waddling back inside to root through some things. She could hear the clanking of glass bottles among them.

Kagome busied herself with approaching the well, conscious of the way she walked even though it had practically become second nature to emulate a man. Still, around actual men, she was much more keenly aware of her acting. Reaching over the rim of the well, she felt her face flush- gritting her teeth when she realised her back had arched. Presenting her rear. Quickly straightening, Kagome hoped no one had noticed, distractedly lowering the bucket and holding onto the rope tightly as she eased it down. Even little things like that were dangerous.

The man somewhere behind her wandered out into the dusty courtyard, setting down a crate of goods on an old picnic table. He gestured to them with a flourish as she pulled the bucket back up, trying not to spill the water.

"Take a look and pick what ya like, stranger."

Kagome nodded, lifting the bucket out and carefully filling her containers. After securing the caps, she wandered over.

Picking out a dirty magazine, Kagome pretended to be interested, thumbing through it. Some pages stuck together with a sticky substance she did not want to identify. The old man had settled down into a deck chair, fanning his flushed skin. Kagome figured it had less to do with the weather and more to do with his warm blood as he took another drink of his beer.

She set the magazine down and brought out a set of matches.

"Rare find, eh? Sure beats all that time wasted setting up a fire."

Kagome rose a brow. She wasn't going to buy something to produce flames she could easily make with the right tools. Plus she had some of her own left. "How much?" She asked anyway.

"Hmm five tokens."

"T-tokens?" Kagome's blood froze. Her heart skittered in her chest, hammering wildly.

He let out a round of howling guttural laughter, holding his large belly. "Calm down, heh, you nearly looked as frightened as a girl there!"

Kagome laughed, swallowing her panic and elbowing him. "Ha! Don't you wish!"

The old man laughed louder, wiping his eye. He then tapped the crate, "keep lookin' ya joker. You got any veal to trade?"

She smiled and continued sorting through the junk, "no, just venison."

"Tch, woulda loved some veal."

Kagome was about to answer when the sound of an engine drew closer. She tensed, feeling like it were a prelude to exactly what she feared. A group.

From behind a dirt mound, an open top pick-up truck skidded into the old trading station, coming to a stop. A couple of men jumped out as others lazed in the back, nursing bottles or holding weapons.

"Oi Mushin!" One of the men called, grinning sharply. "You're not gonna believe this!"

"Mn?"

The man with a mohawk wandered over, his clothes tattered. "A girl's been found!" He breathed, eyes wide and shining. "Can you believe it? A real-life actual girl!"

Kagome's limbs had frozen, her hand resting on a bottle of old perfume. Shaking herself, she carried on sorting through the wears. Picking out some bullets perfect for a handgun, she casually glanced at the men. Slipping some into her pocket, she thumbed through a brochure to old New York.

"Slow down, feh…" Mushin took a swig of his beer, letting out a disgruntled noise. "A girl? Not a woman?"

Another man shook his head, adjusting his torn leather jacket. He picked up one of Mushin's beer bottles and tossed a bag of some sort of food at him as payment.

"Nah, the body of a woman was found near her, apparently. Took a tumble off a cliff. Shouldn't think that'll stop some of the lads from having a turn with her though."

"Sick…" the old man grumbled. "So, the girl…"

"Must be her daughter, but who cares! She might be a little thing now but we're gonna go get her! In a few years she can entertain us all!" The mohawk guy grinned, laughing.

"Heh, I wouldn't mind her entertainin' me as she is," called one man from the back of the truck. A few men burst out into laughs of agreement or jeers of disgust.

Kagome's hands tightened on the bottle, knuckles turning bone white. She fought not to tremble as her temples pounded. Her fingers itched for the knife on her person.

"You comin' or what old man?"

Mushin didn't move from his chair, observing the liquor in his bronze coloured bottle listlessly."…No. Ain't interested in terrorising a little girl, you should be ashamed of yourselves," he grumbled.

That caused her to look up. Lips thinning, Kagome reached into her pocket, sighing as she retrieved the bullets and put them back.

"Tch, suit yourself," one muttered. The men turned back to the truck with vague grumbles.

"Hey," Kagome called, steeling herself as she turned. "I'll go."

They paused, some men in the truck raising their brows. She knew she wasn't exactly…built for much, but she stood her ground. Her arms and legs had gained strength over the years, and she was confident in her stamina. Despite that, she remained quite petite and unassuming. Setting her jaw, she made it clear she wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.

A smile broke out on the mohawk man's face. "That's more like it!"

Mushin glanced up at her, a dusty worry creeping into his weathered face. As she padded toward them, he held up a hand slightly.

"Lad...don't get mixed up with these lot."

Kagome smiled just a little, resting her hand on the old man's shoulder in passing, giving a small pat before continuing on. Determination blazed inside her chest. She swung herself up onto the back of the truck, bracing against the side when it pulled away with a harsh lurch, kicking up dust. The old man stared after them until they were out of sight down the musty trail.

"Just so's you know for sure, you're gonna be expected to fight. The guys who have her right now won't wanna hand her over easy."

She looked up, finding the mohawk man's gaze trained on her.

"Not a problem," Kagome muttered, flashing her knife and adjusting the bow over her shoulder.

He nodded, lapsing into silence. The other men's bodies lurched or swayed depending on the terrain of the road- the truck making them move like packed sardines pressed into a can. Kagome hated it. She dipped her nose down and carefully inhaled her shirt under her heavy jacket. It smelled awful. Like sweat that had lingered too deep into the fabric.

Good. Kagome glanced around the men.

They didn't seem to keep any demon company but some could be ahead, holding the girl captive. She'd learned the hard way that they could sniff her gender out if she bathed too often. When her period started Kagome absolutely refused to risk leaving her underground base.

She noticed one man reading from a crumpled pamphlet of some sort. It had once most likely been smart and crisp, made from white card. Now it was dinged yellow and brown. She could vaguely make out the characters on the front cover.

Tokyo.

The name made a chill run down her spine, and Kagome glanced away.

"There they are!"

She looked up, joining the other men in readying her weapon. Yanking her bow over her head, she notched an arrow, squinting in the faint evening light at the road ahead. An old warehouse stood, bathed in the last splashes of purples and oranges from the sunset. A camp had been made, some cars and trucks parked outside. Men were running to grab weapons, some of them staggering. They'd been drinking. Celebrating.

Kagome could see no sign of the girl.

Something whizzed through the air, and a man to her left choked. He clutched at his bleeding neck, but Kagome didn't stop to attend to him. The truck skidded to a halt, the men opening fire on the stragglers in the camp. Kagome jumped over the side of the truck, keeping low as shouts and gunfire broke out. The bullets embedded themselves in the truck- its tires letting out harsh hisses as air escaped the punctures. Mental gave noises of distress as holes littered the paintwork.

She knew they'd run out of ammo before too long. These men weren't from Tokyo, they were impoverished wastelanders just like her. Rapid footfalls could be heard as men taking cover behind the truck chanced running toward the warehouse. Bait, she thought. As predicted, men from within the safety of the shelter opened fire. Kagome inched out from behind the safety of cover, aiming and letting her arrow fly when she pinpointed their locations. She killed one man in the upper right window. Then another down below- her arrow zipping through the slight gap in the shutter to pierce his eye.

Another man let out a cry, stumbling to the dust-laden floor. An arrowhead jutted out from the back of his head.

Kagome then relaxed a touch, only gave meagre amounts of cover, content to let the two sides destroy each other. She needed to save her arrows. The man with the torn leather jacket got impaled through the chest with a spear, crying out.

Wincing, Kagome exhaled, before ducking low and trying to avoid fire. She inched toward the side of the warehouse, keeping to the shadows and making her way around the back of the structure.

She hesitated once there, hearing voices from within. The rusted steel shutters were suddenly pulled up - an engine roaring to life.

Some of them were trying to escape. Most likely with the girl in tow.

Kagome readied her bow, heart thundering. When the car sped out of the warehouse, she fired, hitting the passenger in the neck.

"Fuck," she pulled out another arrow and notched it, jogging to catch up with the car as it skittered this way and that. Aiming at the rear tire, she let loose.

The car fumbled, lurching in the air in jumps as the tire flattened. Kagome raced forward, only to stop as something jumped from the passenger seat of the car.

The small thing rolled, letting out a cry as it was coated with dust and dirt, hitting a few sharp stones. When it finally skidded to a stop, Kagome approached, gazing down.

Brown eyes blinked up at her, widening. Kagome stilled. The roar of the engine died in her ears, and she distantly realised the car had stopped. A man cursed as he kicked the door open.

"Hey! Hand her over!" He yelled, lifting a gun.

Kagome snapped her bow up, aiming.

His eyes widened and his body shuddered, choking on his own blood when an arrow skewered itself in his neck. Breathing out with relief, Kagome turned her sights to the girl, reaching out.

"It's okay," her voice came out as gruff rasp.

"No!" The girl cried, stumbling back. "No, stay away!"

Kagome's brows drew together and she stepped closer, opening her mouth to try and soothe. To explain. But pain assaulted her senses.

She gasped, gritting her teeth as something wet trailed down her back. The pain was coming from the back of her left shoulder. Her skin strained around it. Kagome figured it were some sort of blade.

Reaching for her knife, Kagome's fingers slipped around the handle, sending it clattering to the floor. She turned, only to feel her head thrum as her face was knocked to the side. Stars clouded her vision. She couldn't react in time to the man before her.

Hissing, she felt her hair be grabbed- body tugged in roughly.

"Heh, you were pretty useful," the man with the mohawk grinned.

Kagome shuddered, curling her hand into a fist. But his eyes snapped wide before she could land a hit. He gasped, crying out with pain and sinking to one knee. Kagome pulled her hair free from his grip, startled.

The little girl…the little girl had lodged the knife into the back of the man's knee. Kagome stared, but quickly moved, reaching down to pull the knife free. Holding the man's chin, she slid the blade over his neck, stepping back when he coughed and blood spilled forth.

Kagome wasted no time in reaching down and scooping the girl up.

"Ah! N-no! Let me go! LET ME GO!" She cried.

"Shush!" Kagome barked, running to the forgotten car and ducking into the driver's seat. She awkwardly kicked the passenger's body out, resting the girl on her lap as she started the engine. "Please don't struggle, I kind of have a knife in me and I'd really- really appreciate your help right now."

"No, you're a bad man! You're going to hurt me!" The little one struggled.

Kagome gunned the accelerator, glancing in the rear view window and noticing the fighting continue. No doubt they'd soon notice the girl's absence and pursue. She grunted with pain as her body rocked back, the knife handle making contact with the leather seat and sending it deeper into her skin.

"I-I know you won't believe me but I'm a girl too," Kagome panted. The little girl paused in her struggles, wild brown eyes staring up at her. She whimpered, trembling.

Kagome chanced a smile, glancing at her briefly. "What's your name?"

"R-Rin…"

"I'm Kagome." She smiled tiredly, turning the wheel at a corner. "Do you know how to dress a wound, Rin?"

"Y-yes. My Mama showed me how."

Kagome figured she couldn't be more than eight years old. But it made sense to teach her young. Continuing down the road, she checked the gas. It would be enough to get them there.

"I'm going to drive us to one of my bases. It's underground, and you get in by lifting a hatch," she haltingly explained, panting as red spots assaulted her vision. She blinked them away.

"If I pass out, there's a map showing how to reach it in my right pocket," she patted her side. "Don't worry about me. Just leave me behind. But if we do reach it together, I need you to pull the knife out and dress the wound. It's in an awkward place so I don't think I can do it myself."

Talking felt good, calmed her down. Years ago, before the war, Kagome had been more of a chatterbox. She focused on the road, placing where they were from memory.

"W-why are you telling me this? Why are you…helping me?" Rin squeaked in a small voice.

Kagome breathed out, not answering for a while. "Us girls need to stick together, right?" She smiled wryly.

Rin looked as though she didn't quite believe her. She shifted over to sit in the passenger seat, holding her arms. She was dressed in a yellow and orange patchwork yukata. "I want Mama."

An old memory of a kind smile and home cooking drifted into Kagome's mind, before she shook it away. "I know."

She drove for a good 30 minutes more, feeling herself grow weaker, attention drifting. Shapes drew in and out of focus. Kagome squinted, before breaking- stopping just shy of hitting a sign. Turning the wheel, the car drew to a halt.

Carefully, Kagome managed to pull herself out of the car and take Rin's hand, stumbling down from the steep incline of the dirt road and hurrying into the cover of the trees. She'd released the handbrake, allowing the car to coast on without them. Hopefully if any men followed, they'd search around the site of the car when it inevitably crashed.

As promised, Kagome led Rin to the base opening, by now barely hanging on. She lifted the latch, teeth chattering. "Get in."

Rin hesitated, and Kagome felt the last of her patience draining away. "Rin, for the love of-"

The sound of engines further up, somewhere in the hills cut her off. Panicking, she grabbed Rin around the middle and jumped inside. Her feet landed on the rungs of a rope ladder, and she closed the hatch sharply.

Dropping down, Rin's startled squeak filled her ears.

"Shh!" Kagome hissed, covering her mouth.

Waiting in silence while bathed in complete darkness, she listened. The distant roar of the engines lingered, before slowly moving on. Kagome exhaled, shakily sitting down and drawing out her matches.

She lit the scarce amount of candles inside, knowing their location instinctively. The underground bunker was bathed in a warm glow. Rin glanced around the space with wide eyes. It had a bed, and shelves lined sparsely with books. Towards the back were some storage units.

Kagome stayed on her knees, struggling to breathe. To stay conscious. But it was a losing battle.

"H-hey!" She heard Rin call out when she collapsed onto her side. "Kagome? Oh no, Kagome please stay awake!"

The little girl might have said more, but Kagome couldn't stay focused enough on her voice to pick out the words. The world became soft colours.

Her head hit the floor a moment later. Everything lapsed into darkness.

"My Lord," came a bright, nasally voice, tinged with excitement. It came from a green toad demon as he hurriedly waddled into the room.

A cruel, handsome face stayed gazing out of the floor length windows. His chin rested on his clawed hand, body still and drenched in moonlight, as though carved from marble. From his position, he could almost see the entire city laid out before him. Yet the demon sat unmoving behind his desk, a slight sigh escaping him.

"What is it?"

Jaken stopped before the desk and bowed low, practically vibrating with happiness. "A girl!" He burst, panting. "Lord Sesshoumaru, I have heard tell of a girl being spotted in the Western Lands!"

"Girl…" Sesshoumaru tested the word, not sure he liked it. "Demon?"

"Regrettably human, sire."

"Hn, young?"

"R-regrettably…yes, sire."

He made a noise of disgust. "No doubt the human filth have descended upon her like wolves and torn her limb from limb."

"D-don't despair, mi Lord! If we make haste, we could secure her, I'm certain of it."

Long silver lashes slid shut. He could distantly recall the sound of children crying, mingling with houses burning. His claws twitched, and he sneered. "The others…have they already left?"

Jaken clutched his staff, raising his chin. "I don't think the other Lords know yet, I brought the news to you first!"

"Hn," lean muscles shifted as Sesshoumaru slowly stood, padding to the nearby window. "Send out a team of 10, let them search. Bring her back if she's alive. Burn her if dead."

The toad bowed sharply and turned, dangerously assuming he was dismissed.

"Jaken," a quiet voice halted him.

Wide bulbous eyes turned back, slight fear skittering over his skin. "Y-yes mi Lord?"

Sesshoumaru's reflection gazed at him, before sharp golden eyes shifted to the city once more. "They may only bring her back in the state they found her in. Not one may touch her."

"Y-yes of course!"

Sesshoumaru allowed him to leave, a quietness in his baring. Without the stupid ramblings of the kappa, the room lapsed back into silence. Exhaling, the Western Lord remained on the top floor of his skyscraper, wondering if it would be a kinder fate for the child to already be dead. He glanced down towards the building shaped like an open tulip flower, lingering in his eyesight nearby. Bright and glamorous lights decorated the outside. From his vantage point, he could see small shapes of men wandering into the building, demon and human alike. The rest of the city remained poorly lit, shrouded in some pervasive, grimy layer of filth.

Undoubtedly, it would.

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

Episode 7: No Bigger Fish

WELL IT HAS BEEN A WHILE but we’re getting the group back together tomorrow and so I want to try to catch up on some of the old episodes I never posted! They may be a bit shorter because it’s been so long and I’ve forgotten stuff so I have to rely on my notes, but I hope to hit the highlights. This session in particular was one of my favorites. Basically, our characters make a Walmart run, but instead of Walmart it’s the planet of Naboo. 

The DM introduces us to the spectacle of Theed City, capitol of Naboo. It’s temperate in climate, standing majestically on a forested mesa. 

We’re contacted by Theed air traffic control. 

Me: As usual, Taveau is gonna look to Grif to do the talking. 

H: As usual, Rralwarr can’t talk. 

ATC: confirm number of passengers and planned duration of stay. 

Grif: Uh hey there, we have 3, planning on staying overnight. 

ATC: Copy, Blindsider... be prepared to show IDs to customs.

Grif, quietly: oh

(The players all sit back and give each other the :/ face for a minute) 

Rralwarr: Well, we don’t need to stop here...

Me out-of-character: can we do a galactic lore roll to see how bad it would be if we landed without IDs? I mean Taveau’s not gonna know what to search for necessarily, he’s not familiar with landing LEGALLY... But maybe someone else who knows more about this? 

Grif: hmmm well sounds problematic.

Grif to ATC: OK we don’t have time to stop here bye.

ATC: Copy, please exit Naboo airspace within 5 minutes. 

There’s a pause, then: 

DM: OK, WELL, I’LL JUST PULL THIS ENTIRE PAGE OF METICULOUS NOTES OUT OF THE BOOK AND EAT IT, NOW. 

Everyone: uh 

Everyone: do we uh

Everyone: was... were we supposed to land on Naboo.... 

Everyone: do we not have a session plan now?? 

DM: MMMMMYEP. 

M: oops.... oh, well, we already did that so I guess--

Me, out of character: AAHGHSDFJK. OK HOLD ON ONE SEC--

Taveau: H, hold on, are we... where are we going if we’re not stopping here? 

Grif: To meet up with Mij? 

Taveau: But we were supposed to meet up with him in a couple of days. We’re going to be there way too early if we stop here. 

Rralwarr: We could always just wait there. Maybe scope out the area. 

Taveau: Have you looked at the coordinates he gave us? That’s in the middle of Separatist airspace and I don’t want to be just sitting out there for two days! 

Grif: Well... 

Taveau takes out his datapad, does a thirty-second Space Wikipedia search, and shoves it in Grif’s face--showing that we can easily get tourist visas on the planet. 

Grif: OK, you really want to go to this planet don’t you? 

(Me out of character: YE) 

Grif: Listen, OK, let’s make a deal... We’ll make this stop and I’ll subtract 10% of your pay. 

Taveau: 

Taveau: What

Taveau: What is my pay?

Grif: ...OK yeah let’s go ahead and establish that. 

Taveau: Uh-huh, so what do you think is a good--

Grif: *FAST TALK MODE ENGAGED*  Well listen I feel like we’ve got to find a price that’s reasonable for our means without devaluing the great help you’ve given us. You helped us in battle as well as with flying this ship. You’ve changed the direction of my entire life, and I hope you’ll be there for a lot of it, because you’re a pretty cool guy. However, as far as payment goes, well, I mean you weren’t flying for the whole time you’ve been with us, and a lot of that time the ship was on autopilot anyway--

Taveau, breaking out of his overwhelmed haze: OK but you say this like programming autopilot is EASY. Could you do it?

Grif: ...Probably? I mean I’m guessing there’s a button you press. 

Rralwarr: You’re the type who’d push the self-destruct button instead. 

Grif, uncomfortable: Thehrhyhe haaa theyyy don’t HAVE self destruct buttons??? do they??? 

Taveau: *chuckles* .... nah. 

Grif: Ah, good, great. So how much do you want? 

Taveau, who has no idea what a reasonable price actually is, just kind of bluescreens for a few seconds and then goes “.....10,000?”

Grif: OK, sure. I’ll get that to you as soon as possible. ...You really wanna go to Naboo?

Taveau: Do you have a better idea??

Grif: ... ...well... no... but...? ...OK but let’s go to the other side of the planet, I don’t wanna talk to that guy again, he seemed grumpy. 

(DM: Ooh...

H: I know what his punishment for us is gonna be. 

DM: The Gungans have also been making a killing off of tourism, and have built a spaceport outside of Theed to allow access to the underwater city. Yes, THIS IS WHAT YOU GET for making me eat my notes.)

Grif, researching the area, notices the Gungan city, and goes:  Ooh, an underwater city! Now, that I could get behind.

Taveau: OK? Glad to see you excited about something.

Grif, reading from his datapad: ooh they took out an entire orbital dropship, they must be great warriors!

Taveau: Huh. Interesting. 

DM: So you fly in to Gungan Space and you get a uhh.. a new buzzer on the  commlink... it appears to be Gungan traffic control. 

ATC: HEDOOOH! YoU-sA wAnT lAnD iN GunGAn cItY?? 

HEDOOOH! You-sa want land in Gungan City? 

(Players: oh... 

DM: THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT.) 

ATC: wE-SAAAA be hApPy to WelCOmE YoU! YoUUu-sa, be lAnDiN iNNnn, ah... DoCkInG bAy 36! 

Grif: All right, sounds great!

ATC: ThAnK yOuS!

Grif: he sounds friendly.

Taveau: yeah, they sound pretty chill. 

Grif: they must have a very interesting and deep rich culture if their speech is so hard for us to understand... I think it’ll be a very interesting experience.

DM: You land, and are greeted by Gungan Customs, which seems to work on a different organizational scheme than Nubian customs. 

Gungan Customs Officer: Hello-sa! 

Grif: Hi! :D 

GCO: Welcome to Naboo, we-sa very happy to have you here! But-ah, there is una small matter! The landing fee is 500 Republic credits! 

Grif: OK, uh, shoot! Well, I can cover that one. (M: I’ll swipe my cardy-boii)

We get our visas and ride down towards the underwater city in a small sub shuttle. Rralwarr is not happy about being crammed into a small space, or about being underwater in general, but it’s otherwise a very nice ship. The pilots points out interesting features of the area as we glide downwards.

Taveau: Huh... I’m starting to enjoy myself.

Grif, staring at the pilot’s eye-stalks: .....huh. 

The water grows darker, but ahead is a dim glow of light which slowly becomes many different points of light, coming from a system of oddly bulbous pods linked together: the underwater city of Otoh-Gunga. 

Grif: Wow! This is impresive!

Pilot: It is very nice, yes? We-sa like it here. 

Grif: So, like, how do you get in without, like, letting water in?

Pilot: Ooh, we-sa have membranes! It keep the water out, but the ships go through! 

Grif: Amazing! But isn’t that a security risk? Can any ships go through, or only yours? 

Pilot: Oh, we-sa don’t worry about that. We-sa very peaceful, no have soldiers here since the invasion. 

Grif: Oh, good, I always like a peaceful planet. I come from one myself, it’s called Alderaan. 

Pilot: Does it have oceans? 

Grif: Oh, yeah, lots of oceans! But I don’t think there are any underwater cities. \

Pilot: Sound lovely. Maybe we visit sometime. 

We arrive in the city, and Rralwarr immediately runs to the most open space in the area and takes a slightly panicky breath of air. 

Taveau: Doing OK Rralwarr?

Rralwarr: *tiny Wookie noise* underwater.... 

Grif: OK, let’s figure out how we’re gonna do this! Rralwarr, I know you want medpacs. Taveau, what about you? 

Taveau: Booze. 

Grif: ..That’s all? You made us come down here for booze? Alright, fine, I’ll get you some booze. 

Taveau: You’re paying? I wasn’t aware that was part of the arrangement. 

Grif: Oh, sure, yeah. I’ll get you whatever you need on this trip, it comes out of your pay, is all. 

Taveau: I can buy my own groceries. But I will let you buy me a bottle of rum. 

The party splits: Rralwarr goes off to buy medpacs, and Grif and Taveau head to a liquor store. DM asks what I’m looking for. I say just a cheap rum. 

DM: Just... complete rotgut?  You’re looking for the Star Wars equivalent of Everclear. 

Me, ooc: not QUITE that bad. 

DM: So, space Jim Beam. 

Me: Yeah. 

DM: OK, you find that. 

The DM introduces the cashier lady, the store, and an impressive array of space booze to choose from: a number of Mon Cal grades, one which is 1000 credits (Taveau: oof. that’s unnecessary), samples of imports from other planets--the cashier notes that a few are becoming hard to get, thanks to the Separatists taking over the planets of origin. 

DM: There’s also a novelty bottle of bright green alcohol that comes in a bottle shaped like Yoda’s head. You’re pretty sure this was not authorized by the Jedi. 75 credits. The label reads “Feel good you will, hmmmm.” 

Grif: !!!

Taveau: I’m not sure I trust this, but OK?? We can share it, it’ll be interesting. 

We get the novelty Yoda booze and 1 bottle of 95-credit (fairly cheap but almost respectable) Mon Calamari black rum for Taveau’s personal use. 

As they leave, Taveau takes the rum out of his bag, takes a swig straight out the bottle, and then puts it back in his bag. 

DM: That’s very white trash of him. 

Me, OOC: You assume Taveau is white? He’s just... space trash. 

(DM argues that I showed him some pictures I found on pinterest as references and they looked like white trash. And OK they fit the general aesthetic and appearance which is why I sent them, but they don’t supersede the character description that’s on my sheet.) 

DM: So you continue walking along, noticing the tourists and the Gungans looking out across the city. It’s so pretty, you think you have to take another drink of rum to appreciate it, so you do. (Minor irritation from me having my character played for me, but it is, in fact, extremely in character, so I roll with it) Grif, you crack open that Yoda head. It is very sweet and very fruity, with a bit of citrus. It’s basically 170-proof Mountain Dew. Some of your nervousness about being underwater slips away. You decide to give Rralwarr some when you get back. 

Taveau: How’s that? 

Grif: Weird! It’s sweet, try it? 

Taveau: ...ooh. I like that more than I thought I would. 

DM: Taveau, you find yourself feeling like you’re almost ready to talk to people. It’s weird, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it. 

Next, we head to Otoh Gunga Metalworks. Naboo, being so peaceful, does not permit the (legal) sale of weapons for anything other than decoration, but Taveau wants to add to his knife collection. He’s planning to collect a knife from every planet he visits.

We enter, and the Gungan asks what we’re looking for. Taveau, being Taveau, just goes “Knives.” The Gungan chuckles.

Cashier Gungan: Who-sa you want to stab?

Taveau: Depends on the day.

CG: Me-sa kidding! We-sa no sell sharp blades, but we-sa do have good collection pieces.

Grif: Well, that would be perfect *elbow jab* sINCE YOU’RE A COLLECTOR, Taveau!

Taveau: Yep.

There are, actually, a wide variety of knives, mostly elaborately wrought decoration pieces, but down in the “historical section” are knives and hunting tools, replicas of the distant past. They have dull edges and are made of the same dark metal of the city-bubbles’ frames. There are spears, slings, and some small, almost stiletto-like knives. 

Grif: Wow, it’s so tiny! 

The Gungan chuckles: You-sa must be delicate, thesa not be for gooberfish. ...We-sa have spears for those. 

Taveau picks up one of the small knives and examines it. It’s a bit heavier than he would expect for the size and is made of one piece of metal, with the hilt wrapped in a tough green leather of unidentifiable source. It’s a stiff, non-flexible blade, very slender, the balance point towards the hilt. 

Taveau buys two of the plainer ones. 

Next, I want to find a vox box, a device which (I had learned from the manual) is readily available across the galaxy and speaks a range of phrases in Basic, and, with a good computer skill, can also be customized. 

All we can find, the DM tells us, is a novelty vox box that speaks in a Gungan accent. 

(Me: Is this really the only one?? I was gonna give it to Rralwarr as a gift, I thought it was a good idea... 

DM: That’s the only one. 

Me: I’m a little angry. 

DM: SO AM I) 

Grif thinks the box is hilarious and encourages Taveau, who was wavering, to buy it anyway. Taveau figures they can always try customizing it to be less annoying later. And then--

Grif: Bookstore! Do you like books? I like books. 

Taveau: Uh. Sure

Grif looks through the selections on galactic cultures, trying to find something on Mandalore. There are very few mentions of it, aside from a sort of cheesy fiction book title “Tales of the Mandalorian Raiders,” a story about the Old Republic. The cover shows a black-and-red-helmeted mando in old-fashioned armor--it’s more square, and the T-visor is contoured differently--stabbing his sword through a Jedi’s heart, with the wreckage of a city overrun by armies of battling Jedi and Mandalorians in the background. 

Grif seriously considers buying this book. Taveau picks it up and flips through it. It claims to be written in Mando’a blank verse, a claim which doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense, but whatever. There are a few words of Mando’a flung in for flavor. They’re hilariously misspelled. It tells the story of an ancient Mandalore who once allied with the Sith. He’s portrayed in a fairly unflattering light, and the book focused on his creative ways of slaughtering people. 

Taveau cackles at this a bit. 

Grif: ....Had enough to drink? 

Taveau: Yeah yeah. *shakes the book* is this what you do in your free time? 

Grif: It is now. 

Taveau: Why?? 

Grif: Well--okay, here’s the thing, I just... My life has been changing a lot lately, and I’m not really sure where I stand, you know? And I want to believe that Mij and his people are the good guys, you know, and I really think it’s so cool what they stand for, the--the freedom, and honor, and stuff, and fighting Death Watch, but I just... I’m new to this, and I don’t know them very well, and if I’m going to become a part of this I want to be sure I’m doing the right thing. So, I guess I just want to understand more about the culture because I hope it’ll help me understand Mij. 

Taveau: ..*chokes* hgnsf. Huh, OK. Well, I don’t think a book about the far past is going to tell you anything about Mij, but I think I get what you’re saying... *suppressed chuckle* Huh, well, how about this. Would you like me to cook for you? You said you wanted to learn about Mandalorian culture, hm? *Cackling* I mean--you’ve got me, I’m right here. You, uh, don’t need. *dismissive shake of the book* ...This. 

Grif is enthusiastic about this, despite the fact that Taveau is still cackling devilishly. They go grocery shopping. There’s a lot of fish, some seaweed-type wraps, and “a rather interesting sauce”: the sando-aquamonster hot sauce, with a label reading “there is no bigger fish.” 

Taveau grumbles about the lack of spices, but buys the ingredients to make a fish wrap of some sort, along with that very interesting hot sauce. Grif follows everything eagerly. He does not protest the purchase of the hottest sauce in the store. We go back to the ship and reunite with Rralwarr. There’s a smallish cooking area in the ship, basically just a counter and a space microwave. Taveau tastes the sauce while he’s making the wraps. 

Me, OOC: So how spicy is it? 

DM: To YOU? Not very spicy, but you think it’s pretty good for an aruetiise approximation. 

Let me pause here to share with you, my dear readers, some fun trivia I learned in my study of Mando’a. Mandalorian culture is full of very spicy foods. They have a special word (hetikles) for the “noseburn” you get from really really spicy foods, the ones that basically just set your entire sinus system on fire--it’s a prized sensation. Taveau was, of course, raised to have a healthy appreciation of hellishly fiery foods. Grif was not, and Taveau kinda suspects this. 

Now, Taveau (fortunately for Grif) does not have access to real Mandalorian spices, but this sauce comes close enough to earn his respect. 

He makes some fish wraps and sticks them in the space microwave for a minute so they’re warm, then drenches them in hot sauce. Grif is excited. 

Taveau: Chill, this isn’t anything like authentic, I used what I could find.. it’s just some space-microwaved fish wrap with hot sauce on it... the sauce is pretty good, though. 

Grif: Oh, awesome, cool, great! Is there, like, a traditional way to eat this or 

Taveau: Just. eat it

Grif: OK! 

M: Grif takes a big forkful and stuffs it in his mouth. 

DM: CON SAVE! 

M: (6) 

DM: You would let loose with every foul word that you know, except that your mouth hurts too much and you can only get out an incomprehensible sound of pain. 

Grif: WREEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Taveau, at this point, is on the floor, just choking with laughter. 

DM: Grif, you scramble for the closest liquid--which is the bottle of Yoda liquor. It cuts the burn a bit but you do not feel well and you run off to the refresher to rethink your life. Taveau meanwhile is just losing it with laughter and calls after Grif “Kandosii!” 

Rralwarr: What did you give him?! 

Taveau: Just hot sauce. Try it! 

DM: CON SAVE! (high pass) Yeah, you’re fine. It’s good sauce. You think Grif is just kind of a wimp. 

Grif still hasn’t come back. Taveau feels a tiny bit bad but also he’s still laughing. Rralwarr pretends to feel bad. He is also laughing. We eat two of the hot-sauced wraps and Taveau puts one plain, not at all hot one aside for Grif, when he feels better enough to eat. Taveau also gives Rralwarr the vox box which speaks in a Gungan accent. 

Rralwarr: ...This was Grif’s idea wasn’t it. 

Meanwhile, Grif is lying spread-eagled on the tiles in the refresher, trying to absorb all the coldness from the floor. He feels like he’s on fire and his stomach probably won’t settle down for a while. 

Taveau spends the next couple of hours sharpening the two knives he bought. He tapes one to the underside of his pilot seat so that it’s hidden but easy to whip out if needed. He’s completely finished sharpening both by the time Grif stumbles out of the refresher. 

Taveau: Hey, Grif! I left one of those wraps plain for you. It’s in the kitchen. 

Grif: hhhghhthanks uhhh I’m not really hungry right now but thanks tho

Taveau: Are you okay? 

Grif: *sniff* hhghhhhyes ‘m fine just uhhhhghh. gonna uhh. go to bed now I think. g’night Taveau. 

Taveau: I, uh. Didn’t realize it would be quite that rough on you. 

Grif: huhhh nno it’sss fineeee m just a lil tired that’s all just. yea. ‘m totally fine don’t worry about it. g’night

Taveau: Oh, hey, before you go. This is for you. I sharpened it. 

He gives Grif the other knife he’d bought on the planet, the slightly nicer one, now razor sharp, and tries to show Grif some grips he can use to fight with it. 

Grif: uhhh that’s nice but uhh maybe show me this when I’m more awake maybe. tthank you. 

He stumbles off, and Taveau settles down in his pilot seat with his knife collection. For now, it’s quiet in the ship. 

Episodes Masterpost

[bcczeandgettinglcst]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S42r7EQ0lmw)

[thejokersenigma]

Loki x Reader - Birthday Party (Guest Post)(1000 Follower Writing Challenge)

Hey guys, the wonderful @so-say-xandra is the first person to submit a piece for my writing challenge and was more than happy for me to post it (yay!)

I hope you guys enjoy it! I’ll leave a little feedback at the bottom if you all don’t mind?

(I haven’t changed/edited this in anyway (pinky promise) other than putting in a few spaces between words where the formatting had removed them!)

———————–

BIRTHDAY PARTY

In response to @thejokersenigma writing challenge to celebrate her much deserved 1000+ followers !

I hope the characters are not (too) ooc and please excuse my English as it is not my native language. I tend to mix both US and UK >< so sorry !

[WARNINGS] : None

Summary :You are hosting a birthday party for Thor at your place. And while your guests (Avengers & Asgardians alike) are enjoying themselves, Loki takes you away from the gathering and asked you for a favor. 

“You did good, kid.” said Tony Stark going out of your kitchen, licking a spoon full of chocolate.

“What were you doing back there?” You asked him sternly.

“Nothing.” He quickly answered, hiding the evidence of his crime behind his back.

You decided to let it go because you knew, nothing in the world would come between Tony Stark and food. Thankfully, you had made more than one cake, otherwise he would have tasted your wrath more than your impeccable recipe.

“That’s more than enough Peter, thank you.” You called to the teenage boy hanging a colorful banner across your living room.

“What about the piñata ?” He asked you, slowly sliding from the ceiling, upside down.

“You bought a piñata?” shouted Tony from the kitchen, back to the scene of the crime.

“Wemadea piñata.” answered Peter with a proud smile. “You wanna see it Mr Stark ?”

“You betcha !”

The man promptly burst out of the kitchen, another spoon full of chocolate dough. And followed the boy to the balcony outside.

“Hey [Y/N] ? Where do you want these ?” said Natasha Romanov from your entryway.

You turned around and see the spy carrying a massive wooden crate full of bottles. You pointed the bar you had installed near a brick wall.

“Do you need a hand ?” you asked concerned about the heavy weight.

“I wouldn’t mind !” declared another voice.

Clint Barton followed by Steve Roger and Saw Wilson, was struggling with his load. Before you could make a step, Peter Parker bursted into the living room.

“Lemme help.”

“Uh uh no way, get outta of here kid.” said Barton turning around in order to avoid Peter touching the bottles.

“Come on, I just want to help.”

But Barton wouldn’t let him anywhere near alcohol, too aware of Stark’s protective behavior towards the boy.

“Would you look at that !” exclaimed Tony holding the piñata shaped to look like Mjlonir, Thor’s hammer.

“Ain’t she a beauty ?” said Steve with an amused smirk. “Where do you want the rest ?” he gently asked you.

“The kitchen will be fine. Thank you.” you answered.

Clint managed to escaped Peter, moving swiftly to the side, like a football player. Tony raised an eyebrow while contemplating the massive amount of liquor brought in by the three men and Natasha.

“You have outdone yourself Romanov.”

Before she could answer, a huge clunk shook the walls of your Queens apartment, followed by a loud growl.

“Hulk, stuck.” complained the green giant, folded in your entryway.

He too, was carrying his share of wooden crates. But instead of one or two, like the others had, he hold a dozen of them.

“OK — now you’ve outdone yourself.” Tony said to Romanov.

The red haired woman grinned.

“Well, we all have seen how Thor parties. It’s the least I could do.” she winked at you.

Not only could the god of thunder hold his liquor, but it seemed that earthling alcohol could never quite do the trick. It was nothing compared to Asgardians drinks, you imagined. And that was why, you let Natasha in charge of finding the best and finest spirits on Earth.

As you and the others, except Peter who was banned from even thinking about alcohol, helped the Hulk, you looked at your place. It was warm and cosy, with cushions thrown all over the sofa and the soft carpet on the floor. It smelled of the cakes and cookies you’ve been baking all afternoon.

Peter had arranged fairy lights inside and out of the apartment, while you set the long diner table. You went for a light white and golden theme,placing candles here and there.

It was no Stark tower, you thought, remembering all the parties you went to there. But Tony’s place as great and big as it was, lacked a little something. To celebrate your friend’s special day, you went for a homely feel. Even if it meant a crowded place when all the guests would have arrived.

When Bruce Banner came back, you handed him a blanket, and showed him the bathroom where a fresh stack of clothes awaited. Then, you walked back to the kitchen, only to find, Tony studying one of your baked cakes.

“Would you get out of here?” you reprimanded him.

“I was just admiring.” he said raising his hands in the air, in false innocence.

From the living room you could hear Peter telling the other Avengers what to do and how to do it. You chose him to be your assistant not only because you liked this goofy teenager, but because his eagerness to please had simply the better of you.

“So ! That’s quite a party you planned kid.”

“Yup.” you answered, focused on your baking.

He strolled around the crates on the floor, taking a measure of what was about to come.

“Do you think you had enough?”

You honestly couldn’t tell if his question was rhetorical or not. You shrugged, your hands full of cookie dough.

“Well, I also invited Sif and Brunhilde so…”

“Say no more.” Tony answered with a raised hand. “Wait! Did you…did you invited Antlers too?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Loki’s infamous nickname, but decided to ignore it. Of course you had extended an invitation to Thor’s brother.

“I don’t know kid.” Tony mumbled. “I don’t like him ambling around here.”

“You don’t like him, period.” you answered a bit coldly. “And I thought it would do him some good.” you finally add, not clarifying whom you were referring to.

“You’re too nice, for you own good, kid.” he replied before leaving the kitchen to monitor the final settings of the party.

As expected, your apartment was crowded. Full of Avengers and Asgardians getting along just fine. You could not help but feel proud of yourself as you watched everyone having a good time. Being the host of the party, meant you could not quite enjoy it though.

You made sure there was food at all times and kept a close eye on the booze. You did not want anyone getting wasted before the big dinner.

“That is a splendid feast you thrown me [Y/N] !” claimed Thor in his loud and jovial voice. “Maybe you could help me about something.” he said looming over you, placing his friendly arm around your shoulders.

“Shoot.” you encouraged him gladly.

“I heard talks and whispers about a fight of some sort. Against something called a pintata ?”

“Piñata,” you corrected him, feeling your cheeks burn. “It is not a– a fight, per say. But beating is involved, yes. Wh…who is talking about it exactly ?”

“Who’s not talking about it, you mean !” he bursted. 

Thor clapped his massive hand on your back, making you cough upon the blow.

“Was s’pose to be a surprise…” you muttered between your teeth. As he left you to join the others, something caught your attention near the bar. There, you spotted the valkyrie, carelessly handing a glass to young Peter Parker. You raced through the crowd, and at the last second, snatched the glass from Peter’s hand and drank the whole thing down.

The beverage barely touched your lips and yet it burned them, firing its way down your throat. Your eyes watered and you seemed to have forgotten how to breath. 

“You’re quite the party animal, aren’t you !” guffawed the Asgardian, holding tight a half-full bottle of liquor.

You raised a finger to her, ready to lecture her about earth rule as not to give any strong beverage to a minor, but you could barely speak, your stomach burning like hell fire. Instead, you turned to Peter, the glass still in your grip.

“I didn’t do anything.” he said raising his hands.

“Just…Stark…” was all you could say at the moment.

You watch as the teenage boy ran away from the bar. Finally air seemed to have find a way back to your lungs. You swipe out the tears at the corner of your eyes and turned back to the valkyrie who was opening another bottle all for herself. She grinned at you.

“T’shit…too strong…for (you scarcely hold a burp back) him.”

“As it is for you as well.” answered drawled voice behind you.

First, you saw a pale white hand reaching the glass you still hold in yours. Then, you felt the brushing of his cool fingers upon your skin as he took it away. Your eyes followed up and landed of Loki’s green ones, his face crossed with a devilish smile. Without breaking eye contact with you, he poured himself a drink, and began to slowly savor it.

“Refreshing.” he purred with a cocky grin.

“Show off.” you answered to his provocation, hardly hiding your amused smile. “Glad you could come.” you said, your throat still burning. Loki nodded and bowed his head.

“You have better taste in spirits than I ever thought you would.” he said raising, now, his glass to you.

“Did you know there will be fighting too ?” announced Valkyrie. Loki raised an interested eyebrow while you buried your head in your shoulder.

“I don’t know what a piñata is,” she added “but I can wait to see Thor fight another force of nature. It’s like we’re back on Sakaar!” she laughed before taking a long gulp of drink.

Loki shivered.

“A force of ? No, it’s just a – urgh… forget about it.” you gave up and soon went to check upon the other guests.

You had found a place to sit, next to Natasha on your living room small bench. Thor, surrounded by Sif and Steveon the sofa, was telling a story about a battle the three of them fought not long ago. Everyone in earshot was hooked to his epic tale, except for Valkyrie and Sam Wilson who had heard the story a thousand times already, and found themselves partners in booze at the bar. Even though you have heard it as soon as he returned to Earth, you listened to Thor’s story as well as the others.

Piles of presents took up too much space on the diner table, but you did not mind. On the contrary, you were glad to see your friend being that spoiled and you could not wait for him to open yours. Out of the blue, you sensed something strange. Overcome with a feeling that someone was behind you. A dark presence getting closer and closer to your back.

Right before, you turned your head to check above your shoulders, Loki leant forward, his long dark hair touching slightly the bare skin of your neck. 

His cold breath smelled of the spirits he had drunk, was enticing to say the least. Your skin crawled as he whispered to your ear.

“Which one is yours?”

You swallowed with difficulty. Your lips were surprisingly dry and your tongue heavy in your mouth. Yet, you managed to answer him, your eyes flickering to his – way – too close lips. Your gift was the square one, with the silver paper carefully wrapped around it.

“Are you…satisfied with it?” he then ask, seemingly closer than before.

You couldn’t help yourself, and closed your eyes, feeling the overwhelming presence of Loki’s tensed and lean body just an inch away from yours.

You would have shrugged your shoulders but you did not dare move more than just a slight, so you nodded, unable to speak either.

Without warning, Loki put his hand on the small of your back and whispered in a husk and yet urgent voice: “come with me.” Your skin crawled so much at his touch, that you suspected it to want to go away altogether. As he broke contact, you caught a breath.

He did not wait for you, and swiftly went out of the room, raising no one’s attention. But when you got up, it was another story.

“You okay sweety?” asked Natasha looking concerned.

“Oh yeah!” you answered dismissing her concern with a wave of your hand “a host’s work is never done.”

You excused yourself and smiled your way out of the living room and walked as naturally as you could to the kitchen. You looked around you, not seeing Loki anywhere. Where was he? Moreover, why did you followed him so blindly?

Loki hissed, calling your attention. He was standing in the dark corridor, waiting for you to come along. As you approached he quickly grabbed a hold of your bare forearm and led you to the bathroom. Once the both of you inside, he closed the door and turn the key in the locket.

Your heart pounded in your chest, felt the sweat from your pores as you tried to wrap your mind around what was going on. By now, you got used to Loki’s presence. You even, hanged out quite a bit. But always in a casual atmosphere, with a lot of space around you. You realized, that until now, the two of you had never been left alone with each other.

The proximity of the god in your tiny bathroom, where only a small bathtub, a sink and the toilets were enough to fill most of it, made you nervous. Nevertheless, you were determined to act as usual, and stopped being – what? Afraid? mesmerized maybe? 

“Care to tell me why you just pulled me into a room and locked the door?” you gestured towards the handle.

“I must require your help.” Loki answered in a hushed voice.

“You have weird way of asking for it.” you said crossing your arms on your chest. “What do you want from me?”

For a quick second you could have sworn Loki eyed you greedily, but as you studied his face, there was nothing but seriousness.

“It is of the upmost importance that you do agree.” he warned you.

“I can’t if you don’t tell me what is it first!” you exclaimed impatiently.

His eyes couldn’t stay in one place, which was not like him. When he chose to focus his gaze on you, you did not blush. You were too annoyed for that. 

“Everyone has brought one.” he muttered in admittance.

You scrunched up your nose, not understanding what he was saying when it hit you like a truck. Your eyes widened and a mocking grin ran across your face.

“You forgot about it, didn’t you? You forgot your brother’s birthday!” you laughed.

“Would you please lower your voice?” he hushed.

“You’re a bad brother!” you mocked.

“I am well aware of that, thank you.” he said looking genuinely hurt.

A laugh died in your throat as you looked at him. He looked at you, practically begging for your help without saying anything. How did he do that? You wondered. How could he go from merciless killer vibe to cinnamon roll in need for a hug in an instant?

He stood tall, but somehow fragile. As his long body against the door, blocking the only way out, you felt powerless. You studied his face a little while longer, looking for something – anything – that might tell you it was a bad idea.

“Fine.” you sighed. “What d’you have in mind Dory?”

“Well – I was thinking we could pretend your present was in fact, my present. So I have something to give my brother.” he flashed a smile, back to his confident, pretentious self.

“Oh hell no!” you screamed appalled.

“Why not?” he asked genuinely surprised you did not immediately agreed with his idea.

“He’ll think that I forgot his birthday!”

“He will not.” dismissed Loki “You are the reason we are all gathered here, are you not?”

It was true and you were aware of it. Nonetheless, you were the kind of person to go out of your depth for loved ones. It meant nice gestures as well as gifts and parties.

Loki saw the scowl on your face and left his spot against the door to take a step towards you.

“Better you than me.” he whispered, fully aware of the effect he had had on you earlier.

“You mean to throw me under the bus.” you turned your head and stare at him.

You hold his intense, almost burning, gaze. Yes, you were willing to make an effort, as you knew the god of mischief had a hard time adjusting to life on Earth since Thor brought him back. Even though you were more than glad to see two brothers grew closer there was a limit, Loki was dangerously close to cross. And you would not let him get away with it.

“I assure you.” he simpered “My brother holds you in high regard. You will hardly disappoint him.” he paused “Unlike me.”

Here it was again, the flash of hurt feelings in his eyes. His jaws were clenched in a cold bitterness, and as he let a heavy breath out, he asked you, almost implored you if you would do it for him.

“Why? I mean why did you pick me over” you paused, thinking “Tony or Steve? They’ve know Thor for a longer time than I have. Hell, why didn’t you ask Sif? She is obviously the one to go to.”

“Because you have taste.”

“Don’t lie to me.” you immediately answered smacking his arm with the back of your hand.

Loki tittered a bit. By now, he was accustomed to your habit of smacking people who annoyed you. Sometimes, it seemed that he was purposefully provoked you, as you often found yourself clapping him on his arms or shoulders. He smiled again, briefly, but you caught it anyway. 

“Because you are my brother’s friend. Even more so, you are mine.”

His? Your brain froze for a moment where his voice echoed, low, almost like a seducing growl.

“And I am surely not their friend.” he smirked.

“Friends don’t steal from one another.” you reminded him.

“I had no intention to steal from you.” he assured you, taking another step closer to you. “But now that you mention it, perhaps it would be…”

“Don’t you dare!” you warned him with another smack on his forearm.

You gazed into each other eyes, knowing all too well, you will not refuse him.

“Fine!” you surrendered. “But, and I insist on it, we’ll pretend it came from the both of us. Deal?” you extended your hand in front of you. Loki raised an eyebrow and stared at your serious face. You could not tell if it was pride or amusement that lighted his features, but he soon took your hand in his. His soft, frosty skin against yours made you shiver once more. Your heart pounded in your chest so loudly, you thought the god could hear it too. 

“Deal.” he said shaking your hand once but not taking it out of yours.

You stood like this for what seemed to be endless seconds, when the laughters from the living room forced you to come to your senses.

“We better get back there.”

“Right !” exclaimed Loki as he, also, emerged from a dream. “After you, my lady.”

He slid over to the side and unlocked the door he opened for you. As you walked past him, you shook your head at his banter.

You rushed through the corridor, Loki at your heels when you asked “By the way, what’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of helping a friend in need.”

“Nah.” you answered unconvinced and unsatisfied.

Before entering the kitchen which led to the living room, you straightened your back, and combed nervously your hair with your fingers. You looked around and thought about coming back with a plate of sliced tomatoes and salmon to announce the beginning of diner. But before you could move, Loki’s hand brushed your elbow, his fingers slowly gliding back to the palm of your hand. His touch teased the tip of your fingers. Then, he leaned over you, his lips against your ear and whispered in a silky voice “How about…anything you want?”

You managed to get through diner without eyeing too much in Loki’s direction. The joyous guests getting most of your attention were a big help. At the end of each course, provided by Stark’s caterer, Steve and Peter landed you a hand, as they were the only ones, alongside you, sober enough to be trusted with plates. 

Sometimes, when you gathered the dirty plates, Loki would completely shut you out, ignoring your presence beside him. Other times, he would raised his head to you, smiled and politely give you his plate, saying “Thank you, my lady.” You rolled your eyes, unable to give him the smack he deserved.

“Why is there a smudge on your cake?” asked Steve Rogers examining the desert you had prepared for Thor’s birthday.

“Stark.” you cursed his name through your teeth as you lighted the candles all around the tasty nine realms you baked.

You carefully placed the massive tray on Steve hands and forearm. In the living room, you nodded at Peter so he could shut down the lights. The room was lit only by candles and the fairy lights hanging here and there, reflecting the starry sky outside.

Perfect, you thought as everyone started to sing happy birthday to the god of thunder.

Natasha and Clint cleared the space in the middle of the diner table, allowing Steve to put the tray down. At the end of the song, they all clapped cheerfully. You glanced at Loki. He had a bitter smile on his face. Still he played the part, and joined the congratulations, only politely.

“Don’t forget to you make a wish before blowing out the candles Point Break” laughed Tony in front of Thor’s mesmerized face.

“Why would wish upon blowing some candles out?” he asked in disbelief.

“It’s tradition.” replied simply Natasha.

“It is known Khaleesi.” said Peter, making you burst a laugh.

“Make haste your majesty,” jested Brunhilde. “I can’t wait to see you kick some piñata.” clearly no one had thought best to tell exactly what a piñata was to the Asgardians.

You were standing at the end of the diner table, next to Loki, a camera in your hands. You pressed the video recorder button. That way you were sure to capture the moment. When Thor successfully extinguished the small flames the whole crowd applauded. You walked around the table, taking pictures of your guests when you noticed a sulky, silent Loki whose eyes were lost in some gloomy patterns of thoughts. Most likely he felt envious of his brother’s happiness while everyone cheered and asked for cake.

You kneeled as his side and startled him a bit when you ask for his help bringing the gifts to the table. Nonetheless, did he agreed and quickly rose to his feet. You took him by the arm, initiating for the first time since you’ve know each other, a physical contact that did not involved playful and annoyed smacking.

“When’s your birthday?” you asked bluntly.

“Why? Do you intend on making me hit a strange shaped objet full of sweets as well?” he smirked.

“Maybe.” you shrugged with an amused faced.

“That’s not exactly my style.” he precised.

You beamed your smiled at him and started putting presents on his arms and took a bunch yourself. Another trip will be needed, you realized.

“When is yours?” he asked softly on your way back to the table.

“A lady never tells.” you answered playfully.

The ritual of gifts unwrapping had started as soon the last slice of cake was eaten. You were seated at Thor’s left side, giving him his birthday presents one by one. Between each one, Thor insisted to rise and hugged in thanks. So after quite some time, when finally your gift showed up, you suddenly felt very anxious. 

What do you offer a god? You had asked yourself while tossing and turning on bed at night. It was an impossible question and yet you found the answer when you asked yourself instead what do you offer a friend?

You were sure of your choosing until this very moment. You watched carefully his large hands examining the silver paper, touching every angle of the gift, trying to guess what it could be.

He had already received amazing, pricey and thoughtful presents. You glanced at Loki who was eyeing you expectantly, his face showing a slight of nervousness as well.

Not only did you want to please your friend, make him happy. But now, after the bathroom deal between you and Loki, you felt like the fraternal relationship was hanging in the balance. The pressure on your should became more and more unbearable.

“How marvelous!” boomed Thor’s voice.

He showed the book 1001 Places You Need To Visit he had just received for everyone to see.

Thor turned to you and grabbed you by your shoulders, pulling you in his muscular arms.

“I love it [Y/N]. I shall visit every places listed on this guidebook. Thank you!”

“Actually” you coughed when he released his embrace. “It’s from Loki and I.”

“What?” would have exclaimed a surprised audience in a cheap sitcom comedy. But you were not on TV, and the guests, despite having drank a bit much, knew how to behave.

“You remembered!” yelled Thor in disbelief.

“How could I forget?” Loki answered with a false innocence.

Sneaky bastard, you thought, repressing the urge to wipe his triumphant smirk away from his gorgeous face.

“Stranger things have happened.” said Tony sipping his drink.

“Truth is” you said “the book is from me but, the rest was Loki’s idea.”

“The rest? Is there more? What is it brother, please tell me.” he asked impatiently.

Loki looked at you, daggers in his eyes. If he could, he would have murdered you on the spot, you had not doubt. But to his brother’s face he was all smiles.

“I – uh…”

“He wants to visit all of these amazing places with you. All of them.” you insisted.

Thor and everyone else around the table were baffled. All eyes turned to Loki.

“Oh how nice.” said Bruce Banner.

“Yes. It is a very lovely thought.” added Steve Rogers with a warm smile to Loki, making Tony coughed in his drink. Clint and Natasha looked at you, not quite buying the whole brotherly time, but if they did not voiced their suspicions.

“Brother! I – That’s wonderful. I can’t believe it.” he said shaking his brother by the shoulder with a warm, and yet painful, grip.

“Neither can I.” muttered Loki.

It was four in the morning and you were leading a sleepy teenage boy through the corridor.

“Go to sleep Peter. I’ll finish tomorrow.”

“No, but – uhm – I don’t…mind.”

“Sleep. Now.” you commanded as you let him fall upon your bed. You took off his shoes and put a blanket over him.

“Thank you.” he said in his sleep. “Great…party.”

You gently closed the door and headed towards the kitchen. It was still a mess despite your efforts of cleaning it throughout the entire evening. It seemed like it would never be clean again. While that depressing thought crawled into your sleep deprived brain, Steve came in with an empty crate he started filling with emptied bottles. He was relentless, determined to give you a hand until everything looked like it was before.

You began to gather all of the bottles as well, ignoring the headache slowly throbbing . From where you stood, you watchedTony’s head on Bruce’s shoulder as they were both soundasleep.Thor and Sif drinking what was left of alcohol and talking. While, outside on the balcony, there was Sam Wilson singing some Marvin Gaye’s songsto a drunken and merry Valkyrie.

“Where are Clint and Natasha?” you asked realizing you haven’t seen them.

“They just left,” answered Rogers. For Budapest.”

“Oh – Of course.” you shrugged, a bit sad they did not wait to say goodbye.

“Budapest! That’s on our list too brother!” yelled Thor from across the living room raising his glass up in the air.

“Joy.” said Loki with a stern face. He was seated on one of the two stools you had behing the counter of your kitchen island, playing with crumbs of cake.

“Can’t you, at least, use your tricks to speed this up?” you heard Rogers asked the god of mischief as you left the kitchen in desperate need of peace and quiet.

You were sore but content with yourself. As you walked to your bathroom, you decided to take a steamy shower and then put an all nighter. ‘I’ll sleep when they’re gone’ you thought to yourself. Anyhow, you had not many options as where to sleep. It was either the carpet on your living room floor or the smallest bathtub ever in your bathroom. 

As you closed and locked the door behind you, your headache seemed to calm a bit. Finally you were alone with yourself for the first time since…since forever. You did not mind the constant buzzing of work at Tony’s compound and the guests at your place, but sometimes you just wanted to be in your quiet bubble.

You turned on the hot water and soon the bathroom was warm and steamy, making your eyelid excruciatingly heavy. You started to undress yourself. First the pants and then your shirt. With your hands you tried to dry the head mirror when you noticed a dark figure had appeared behind you. 

“You tricked me.” growled Loki’s voice behind you.

“Never heard of knocking, Candyman?” you jumped out.

You turned to face him, struck by how close your practically naked body was from his. Yet, you defied him with a scornful gaze. The god of mischief took a small step forward, reducing the distance between the two of you.

You were about to demand him to leave the room, when he slipped a hand under your chin. Barely touching it, he made you look up to him. His other hand now skimming the skin of your exposed stomach, giving you goosebumps all over your body.

His green eyes flickered to your lips and went back to your gaze. You could feel his tantalizing breath upon your mouth, his nose almost touching yours as he slowly leaned over you. 

“You tricked me.” he purred with a satisfied grin. His lips brushing yours.

——-

I really did love this idea - and the main content is great! I don’t want to be too critical because I don’t want to discourage you in anyway, but there’s a few grammatical errors, tenses a bit mixed up, words in the wrong place - but who cares about that niggly stuff (I mean I can hardly talk! And you’ve already explained English isn’t your native language! ) when the main content is this fun?! After all, it didn’t stop me from reading and enjoying it!

Wonderful job, hun, I hope you continue to write and use this wonderful imagination of yours!