#... I do suspect that there is one way to handle these folks

[seyaryminamoto]

Fic-to-Art #43: Azula vs. Unnuaq

Not too surprising that my latest prompt, "epic", would yield this particular result in the poll, considering this scene happened quite a short time ago. Here's our Patreon artwork for the past month, I took a bit longer to post it due to Glaze and Nightshade taking too much time, but here we are.

I've said it a few times, but... this was goddamn cathartic to draw, not because of the scene itself, but because I channeled my emotions regarding real life events into how I depicted Azula's rage. I very much worked on this while watching from afar as my country fights for its freedom and finally is in a promising position to seize it, even if all attempts are being blocked by the tyrannical government in charge, unsurprisingly. So... I find myself more than a little spread out lately, my mind all over the place, eager for any tidbit of news that tells me it's finally ended for the better. It hasn't yet. Only time will tell what the outcome of this particular mess will be...

It's that much nicer to actually know the script and be aware of where things are going, huh? Gladiator's going into a pretty high tension stage, and we're on our way to the story's biggest climax. May my country find a conclusion that fills me with the same hope I can nowadays write into Gladiator's upcoming chapters... and may you all enjoy this piece as well, intense and wild as it is.

If you'd like to be part of the creation of these pieces, a $1 pledge on Patreon is enough to make you eligible for suggesting prompts and voting for the monthly artwork, as well as reading Gladiator snippets 6 days in advance!

[grughoul]

Not sure if this is where we can send in requests but you write so beautifully I truly cannot get over it.

Would it be possible to request a smut fic with Viktor from Arcane? Either way cannot wait to read your next fics 🩵

You really found the way to my heart with your kind words because I immediately had to write something for you🥹 I intended for it to be shorter, but it got away from me. I hope you like it!

Keeping Him Company

Pairings: Viktor x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Viktor is still getting used to solitude after Jayce started down the public road.

So when you offer to keep him company, he gladly takes you up on it.

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: fluff, angst ish, friends to lovers, pinv sex, cowgirl, oral sex (f receiving), feelings, plot with porn.

AN: Viktor is not a shy man, and I will die on that hill😭

"Dont you wish to be up there with him?"

Light spilled through a gap in the tall curtains, partly illuminating a man in hiding.

"It is not my within my talent," he said and slanted his lips, a thick accent curving his pronunciation.

The girl approached him, walking along the shadows edge. She was clad in a red and white ensamble, mirroring his own. "Everything is within your talent."

Casting a wistful glance at his leg, he doubted her words. "A simple misscalculation, im afraid. He shines, I do not . . ."

Booming from mighty speakers was the man of progress, holding a speech in front of thousands of people. The brief breaks to collect his breath allowed for them to hear the audience's reaction, and the collective whispers of expectant folk rolled through the crowd in waves.

She stopped next to him, hands clasped infront of her. "You're uninterested in the attention." She pitched her voice at the end, framing the statement as a question. Suspecting she already knew the answer.

"I do not enjoy it," he shrugged. "I prefer the practical part of our work."

"The solitude?"

He looked up at her, having had to sit down at some point during their conversation. The promise of dark circles had begun taking form beneath his eyes, painting a tired look onto his face.

"Hmm . . . The quiet if anything, I think. I've found myself in solitude more often than not since Jayce started handling the . . . public aspects," he explained and gestured broadly with one hand, encompassing the local. The entirety Piltover too, she imagined.

"You're happy with that?"

Bobbing his head from side to side, he could not agree nor disagree. "I like quiet, but I prefer the company. Jayce makes good company."

"Well," she began and reached out to him, pinching a piece of wild hair between her fingertips and arranged it back into shape with the rest of his dark waves. "If you find yourself in unwanted solitude, you can always send for me, Viktor. If nothing else, I might be able to help in the lab," she smiled. It was her specialty, after all.

They'd been friends since they enrolled in the academy, but learning under Heimerdinger rarely allowed them time to see eachother.

Straightening his cane, he heaved himself back on his feet.

She would offer him help, but knew it wouldn't be too appreciated.

Leaning on the support, the stream of light escaping the stage colored his face and set it aglow with warmth. "Thank you, . . ." he called her name and smiled. "I might do that."

He was a strong mind in a blighted body. The brightest often were.

-

It was late the next day when she'd gotten a message from Viktor.

Pushing the tall door open, the setting sun painted the spacious workroom in a dim golden light. On first inspection, one could've thought it abandoned. Books were strewn on every available surface, opened or stacked. Dust had already managed to settle on a few, and she guessed that they'd been deemed irrelevant to the two men's work at some point, then simply forgotten to time and unpaced space. "Viktor?" She called out.

"Over here," a thick accent answered. Venturing further inside, she found him by the colossal windows that held a view Piltover. To the side was a blackboard with rows upon rows of calculations. "Please, take a seat." He smiled and gestured toward one of the few chairs that were free of piling notes. "I'd like to show you what I have been working on."

-

And so the evening spilled into dusk, and dusk poured into night. There was nothing now but the dark sky and starlight illuminating the two of them.

"It is not correct," he tapped the chalk against the board and sighed, highlighting a specific problem to her eyes. He'd asked for her thoughts at some point, and ever since the two had been going back and forth trying to solve one particularly stubborn equation.

Settling down on the chair that she had long abandoned, Viktor wrapped his hands over the cane's handle and rested his chin on top. Exhausted eyes studied the same scribbles he'd gone over and over a hundred times before.

In unisome, they sighed.

Knowing glances were thrown each other's way, luring a chuckle from the both of them and gratefully releasing some of their tension. "Thank you, for lending me your mind this evening."

Pursing her lips, she moved in front of him and settled against the worktable. He was still facing the board, pondering the solution, and allowing her to look at him unabashedly. The strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, that pretty little mole above his lip and his perfectly half-wild hair. "I had a good time," she shrugged. "I should be the one thanking you." Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on that angled cheekbone of his. "So, thank you, Viktor," she murmured.

Pushing herself to her feet, she reached out to grab her things, then moved to leave.

But a hand grabbed her wrist before she had the chance. "Thank you for keeping me company, . . ." Viktor said, voice sliding lower with each word until her name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

Her eyes switched between his, attempting to determine if there was an ulterior meaning his words. Looking down at their hands, she noticed his thumb stroking the thin skin at her wrist. Clearing her throat, she swallowed. "You didn't invite me here just to theorise, did you, Viktor?"

He followed her gaze and inspected the hand he held in his. "I like the quiet," he said, gently toying with her fingers. Running along their length, he absentmindedly bent and straightened them as he carefully thought about the next words to leave his lips. "But it seems, I prefer you." His fingers slid between her own, lacing them together.

Stepping closer to him, she cupped the sharp angles of his cheek. Giving him no other choice then to look up at her with those big, rounded eyes. "Are you telling me I'm loud?" She teased.

"No," Viktor smirked and let his cane slip to the floor, prioritising holding her hips. "But I would like to find out." He put pressure behind his hands, pushing her back onto the tabletop behind her. "Take those off, please." He nodded his chin at her suitpants, then leaned back in his chair.

Smiling, she did as asked and a little bit more, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments.

His eyes trailed over her body, along the curves of her breasts and lace covered mound. Without a word, he moved the chair to face her, hands sliding up her calfs until they hooked beneath her knees and pulled her to the edge of the table.

"Viktor, you don't have to-" she began, rather putting in work for both of them so he could avoid further strain on his body.

But desperate to be of use, to do it himself, he insisted. "I want to," he assured, wrapping a hand around the back of her thigh and squeezed. "Please . . . Let me."

Hesitantly, she nodded her head in compact motions. Willing to please him, but needing him to please her more.

Placing one hand behind her, she braced her weight against the table while her other hand brushed stray strands from his eyes. Combing it back, she burried her fingers in his thick waves. "Okay," she whispered.

What followed was a satisfied smirk and an eager lips trailing kisses along her inner thigh. He made quick work of her panties, then paused. Looking up, brown irises locked with her own as he hovered an inch from her heat. Then suddenly burried his face between her thighs before she'd gotten a second to breathe.

"Fuck-" she moaned, head falling back in bliss as Viktor worked his glorious wonders. An experienced tongue thrust into her core and lapped at her wetness, closing his eyes and humming throughout as if tasting heaven itself. "You taste very sweet, darling," he murmured against her, damp breath fanning against her core and sending shivers up her spine, doing nothing but further spurr her arousal on.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of her inner thigh, he looked up at her, finding the entire city at her back, framing her exalted form. Behind her quivering shoulders ran the horizon, the night sky painting her into a saint as it formed like a halo around her head. Watching her heaving chest and panthing mouth was enough to make a man believe in powers greater than science.

And he wouldnt relent, when seeing the reaction his mere tongue could cause. He couldn't give her mercy, and he could not give her another second to collect herself lest her climax strayed too far away.

Without warning, he slid his tongue up her folds, collecting her arousal only to swallow with groan. Before she could gasp, he'd already slipped back between her thighs. Aternating between soft kisses and gentle nipping, he turned her into a whimpering mess. In a final act, he latched onto her clit, sucking and circling with fervour. Tears of pleasure rolled down her cheeks as her fingers curled into a fist, pulling on his hair as she held on for dear life.

But all he did was whine from her taste and the pressure on his scalp, whine from the growing unpleasantry in his pants as he devoured his dinner and licked his plate clean. "Pretty," he murmued, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

One quivering body- and an arched back later, she laid back against the tabletop, fighting hard to catch her breath.

Looking back, she glimpsed Piltover. She saw thousands of lights illuminating homes, she saw the sky and the glimmering stars. But she couldn't be sure if it was reality or hallucinations of eyes recovering from a tumultuous orgasm.

Moving up, she braced on her forearms, surveying Viktor's own state. He'd circled his arms around her calves and laid his head in the valley between her thighs, kissing and whispering sweet nothings against her skin. Thumbs stroked soothing circles into her plush flesh whenever his mind reminded him. "Thank you," he whispered and kissed her. "Thank you," he repeated over and over again.

"Thank me when we're done," she exhaled, adoring the way his reaction to making her come was gratitude, for letting him bring her to completion. "Chair or bed?" She asked, already planning their next endeavour. "I want to please you too."

Blinking, he considered. An uncertain smile twitching in the corner of his lips. "Our rooms are far," he murmured, glancing down at his leg. Self-consciousness was never something he displayed, never did he complain or bring it up. In his mind, he wanted to prove that there was nothing wrong with him, that he could withstand and surpass.

Although she understood, although she empathized with him, she did not see the need. A dent in a machine did not change its capability, but it could bump the risk of deterioration. "We all need help sometimes, Viktor," she combed through his hair, scratching and brushing his scalp in turns. Sliding a finger down his face, she placed it beneath his chin, tilting his face to meet hers. "Some hardships are more visible than others, but that should not affect the view people have of you. It certainly won't affect mine," she whispered and brushed her thumb along his upper lip, fingertip gently dotting the mole above, and then followed his cheekbone up to his temble. "But, it's your decision, whatever you're comfortable with," she assured, rubbing circles into his temple.

Burrying his face in her thigh, he sighed and nodded, untamed hair scratching her skin pleasantly. "Yes." Viktor sat back and reached for her hands, clasping them in his own. "My room it is," he smiled and kissed up her knuckles, palm and wrist.

-

She'd never been sure if the professor's assistant got a fancier room then the other students. But standing inside it, she could confirm it was bigger at the very least.

"We were outside of the workshop when miss Medarda found us," Viktor explained as he closed the door behind them.

"No! What did she say?" She snickered, eager to hear the following as shd vetured into his room, examining some of the knicks and knacks he had laying around.

Leaning on his cane, he scrathed his chin. "I do not remember," he said, and then a blush rose to his cheeks, staining them a pretty, pale red. "I believe I paniced and told the councillor that I had gotten the rooms wrong."

Raising an eyebrow, she sauntered back to him, already questioning how the story would end. "And which room was that?" She asked, toying with his collar.

Viktor cleared his throat. "Jayce's," he chuckled, thumb rubbing the handle of his cane. "Miss Medarda had little trust in my excuse."

Her lips pulled into a thin line as she met his eyes, making a worthy attempt at with-holding her laughter. "At least it turned out well in the end," she managed, fingers working to unlace his west as she backed toward the bed, pulling him with her.

"Yes," he said and re-removed her shirt, getting the satisfaction of pulling it over her head this time. "I would like to think so."

Sliding his west down his shoulders, she began unbuttoning the red fabric beneath, where she found another piece of his engineering. She traced the clever contraption with wonder. Softly admiring the skill and ingenuity he'd put into it.

Looking up to ask him about it, she found his expression close to discomfort. He looked vulnerable, like it was a piece of himself he rarely showed anyone else unless he had to.

Smiling softly, she met his gaze with a slanted head. "It's crafted brilliantly," she recognized his hard work while studying the detailing. "It's a-"

"Brace." There was note of resignation in his tone. "My back, it is . . ." He trailed off, looking away.

She sighed silently, hating that he couldn't see his own beauty the way she did. "It's beautiful, Viktor. Truly. It suits you." She ran a finger along the strap over his shoulder. "We can keep the shirt if you'd prefer it."

"No," he said and began taking the shirt off, struggling as he only had one available hand. Sensing irritation, she cupped his jaw, gathering his attention. She watched his face soften, honoured by his trust in her. Then brushed her hands down his throat and shoulders, tracing his collarbone before sliding over his shoulders and beanth the fabric, helping it fall to the floor. Viktor turned them around and moved onto to bed without another word.

She smiled to herself, instantly shy by his sudden confidence. Crawling after him, she straddled his lap, careful not to put too much weight on his leg.

"I am not ready, to . . . Remove the other, yet," he murmured, no longer as resigned when talking about his condition. "I am afraid the pants must stay on, for the moment."

"Thats okay," she nodded softly, connecting their foreheads. "I don't mind." She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his skin beneath her palms. She brushed them down his arms until she found his hands and laced them together with her own, and her lips inched closer to his.

For a while, they settled in this new position. Simply enjoying the moment of newfound feelings and fragility, inhaling one another's scent and sharing the air between them.

Viktor tilted his head to the side, moving closer until their mouths were ghosts upon the other. With parted lips, he crept ever closer, patiently testing the waters. Then, softly, they closed around her bottom lip. With a unified exhale, she kissed him back. She could very faintly taste herself on him.

Together, they could focus on nothing but the softness of the other and the frequency of their breaths. When their lust filled lungs could no longer expell air through their mouths, their noses had to take up the slack. Somehow, adding on to the intimacy between them. In this second in time, they were two souls with lungs filling of emotion, ramping up the speed in which they needed to act.

With no other way for the feelings to go, the eagerness in their lips had to carry them out.

Laced together, she moved his hands to her body, giving him free range to wander while her own traveled downward and found the buttons of his pants. "Is this still alright?" She murmured in-between kisses.

"Yes, please," he answered, his own hands undoing her bra. Then there suddenly was the sound of skin on skin as he slid his hands back around her ribs and cupped her breasts.

With a gasp from his touch, she got the buttons open. Reaching down, she pulled his member out.

He'd been fully hard since they'd left the workshop, and intending to finally put him out of his misery, she spread the pre-cum leaking from his tip and circled it gently. Earning her a soft whimper.

Placing one hand on his chest, she lined him up with the other. Pushing him back against the bed and quickly followed suit herself, wetting the tip in her core.

"Please," he begged, hands moving to cup her face, pulling her back for another kiss. "Please." He introduced their tongues and let them explore each other's mouths. Finally, she carefully slid down his length. Resulting in a shprt break from their kiss through the unisome gasp.

As she began to move, to rut her her hips into his. The kiss became needier and needier until their teeth were clashing and breathing rapid.

She angled her hips so her clit could be stimulated against his mound. She released a breathless whimper at the sensation, but earned a twitch from the member inside her and a grin from the man beneath her. "Glorious woman," he moaned, moving to kiss her jaw and neck. His hands slipping from her face to her hips and ass, squeezing and encouraging her ruts with help from his wrists.

From the several points of pleasure he made for her, she was already closing in on her second orgasm. Straightening up, she put both hands on his chest and used him as support to move in longer bounds around his inches. "That alright?" She asked, imagining nothing worse than to cause him

"Yes, y-yes. Mmh . . . M' close," he managed. Observing her on top of him did nothing to ease the matter, and he hissed from what his thoughts of her alone could muster.

Grinding down harder, jolts of electricity shot through her body. Their combined sounds of pleasure along with the sensations they caused had them both close to their limit.

Closing her eyes, the night sky began forming beneath her eyeslids. Her entire body felt much the same, static sizzled in every nerve as the pressure came close to releasing.

"Look at me," Viktor said with a breathless voice. Fingers clawing at her back and waist with a non existent sharpness.

Taking a deep breath she closed the distance between them once again, and opened her eyes.

This time, she could see the stars reflected in his eyes. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, bringing her head against his, and allowed their lips to meet one last time before they spilled over the edge. Viktor quite literally, as he filled her up with his seed.

With no strength left in her body, she collapsed. Yet, still taking care to place her weight on her side rather than his torso, along with her legs settling between his rather than on top.

"Thank you," he whispered, lips finding her temple as she rested next to him. "For keeping me company."

"It was my pleasure, Viktor," she chuckled. "I hope we can do it again."

"Yes, I would like that," he nodded. "I really care for you, . . ." He whispered her name. "I think, perhaps-"

"I care for you too," she stopped him. "Let's let things happen in their own time, okay?"

"Okey," he smiled, scratching her nape.

As their euphoria began wearing of and sleep caught up, her mind could not settle. "Viktor," she murmured.

"Mmh?" He answered, already drowsing of.

"I maybe think so, too."

[petermorwood]

More on pre-electricity lighting.

Interesting to see this one pop up again after nearly two years - courtesy of @dduane, too! :->

*****

After experiencing a couple more storm-related power cuts since my original post, as well as a couple of after-dark garden BBQs, I've come to the conclusion that C.J. Cherryh puts far too much emphasis on "how dark things were pre-electric light".

For one thing eyes adjust, dilating in dim light to gather whatever illumination is available. Okay, if there's none, there's none - but if there's some, human eyes can make use of it, some better or just faster than others. They're the ones with "good night vision".

Think, for instance, of how little you can see of your unlit bedroom just after you've turned off the lights, and how much more of it you can see if you wake up a couple of hours later.

There's also that business of feeling your way around, risking breaking your neck etc. People get used to their surroundings and, after a while, can feel their way around a familiar location even in total darkness with a fair amount of confidence.

Problems arise when Things Aren't Where They Should Be (or when New Things Arrive) and is when most trips, stumbles, hacked shins and stubbed toes happen, but usually - Lego bricks and upturned UK plugs aside - non-light domestic navigation is incident-free.

*****

Here are a couple of pics from one of those BBQs: one candle and a firepit early on, then the candle, firepit and an oil lamp much later, all much more obvious than DD's iPad screen.

Though I remain surprised at how well my phonecam was handling this low light, my own unassisted eyes were doing far better. For instance, that area between the table and the firepit wasn't such an impenetrable pool of darkness as it appears in the photo.

I see (hah!) no reason why those same Accustomed Eyes would have any more difficulty with candles or oil lamps as interior lighting, even without the mirrors or reflectors in my previous post.

With those, and with white interior walls, things would be even brighter. There's a reason why so many reconstructed period buildings in Folk Museums etc. are (authentically) whitewashed not just outside but inside as well. It was cheap, had disinfectant qualities, and was a reflective surface. Win, win and win.

*****

All right, there were no switches to turn on a light. But there was no need for what C.J. describes as stumbling about to reach the fire, because there were tinderboxes and, for many centuries before them, flint and steel. Since "firesteels" have been heraldic charges since the 1100s, the actual tool must have been in use for even longer.

Tinderboxes were fire-starter sets with flint, steel and "tinder" all packed into (surprise!) a box. The tinder was easily lit ignition material, often "charcloth", fabric baked in an airtight jar or tin which would now start to glow just from a spark.

They're mentioned in both "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". Oddly enough, "Hobbit" mentions matches in a couple of places, but I suspect that's a carry-over from when it was just a children's story, not part of the main Legendarium.

Tinderboxes could be simple, just a basic flint-and-steel kit with some tinder for the sparks to fall on...

...or elaborate like this one, with a fancy striker, charcloth, kindling material and even wooden "spills" (long splinters) to transfer flame to a candle or the kindling...

This tinderbox even doubles as a candlestick, complete with a snuffer which would have been inside along with everything else.

Here's a close-up of the striker box with its inner and outer lids open:

What looks like a short pencil with an eraser is actually the striker. A bit of tinder or charcloth would have been pulled through that small hole in the outer lid, which was then closed.

There was a rough steel surface on the lid, and the striker was scraped along it, like so:

This was done for a TV show or film, so the tinder was probably made more flammable with, possibly, lighter fuel. That would be thoroughly appropriate, since a Zippo or similar lighter works on exactly the same principle.

A real-life version of any tinderbox would usually just produce glowing embers needing blown on to make a flame, which is shown sometimes in movies - especially as a will-it-light-or-won't-it? tension build - but is usually a bit slow and non-visual for screen work.

*****

There were even flintlock tinderboxes which worked with the same mechanism as those on firearms. Here's a pocket version:

Here are a couple of bedside versions, once again complete with a candlestick:

And here are three (for home defence?) with a spotlight candle lantern on one side and a double-trigger pistol on the other.

Pull one trigger to light the candle, pull the other trigger to fire the gun.

What could possibly go wrong? :-P

*****

Those pistol lanterns, magnified by lenses, weren't just to let their owner see what they were shooting at: they would also have dazzled whatever miscreant was sneaking around in the dark, irises dilated to make best use of available glimmer.

Swordsmen both good and bad knew this trick too, and various fight manuals taught how to manage a thumb-shuttered lamp encountered suddenly in a dark alley.

There's a sword-and-lantern combat in the 1973 "Three Musketeers" between Michael York (D'Artagnan) and Christopher Lee (Rochefort), which was a great idea.

Unfortunately it failed in execution because the "Hollywood Darkness" which let viewers see the action, wasn't dark enough to emphasise the hazards / advantages of snapping the lamps open and shut.

This TV screencap (can't get a better one, the DVD won't run in a computer drive) shows what I mean.

In fact, like the photos of the BBQ, this image - and entire fight - looks even brighter through "real eyes" than with the phonecam. Just as there can be too much dark in a night scene, there can also be too much light.

*****

One last thing I found when assembling pics for the post were Folding Candle-lanterns.

They were used from about the mid-1700s to the later 20th century (Swiss Army ca. 1978) as travel accessories and emergency equipment, and IMO - I've Made A Note - they'd fit right into a fantasy world whose tech level was able to make them.

The first and last are reproductions: this one is real, from about 1830.

The clear part was mica - a transparent mineral which can be split into thin flexible sheets - while others use horn / parchment, though both of these are translucent rather than transparent. Regardless, all were far less likely to break than glass.

One or two inner surfaces were usually tin, giving the lantern its own built-in reflector, and tech-level-wise, tin as a shiny or decorative finish has been used since Roman times.

I'm pretty sure that top-of-the-line models could also have been finished with their own matching, maybe even built-in, tinderboxes.

And if real ones didn't, fictional ones certainly could. :->

*****

Yet more period lighting stuff here, including flintlock alarm clocks (!)

[starcurtain]

What do you think Aventurine would be like as a boss?

Aventurine's first character story tells us that people both outside the IPC and internal to the Strategic Investment Department are explicitly racist toward him, so I would say first that I suspect Aventurine's team is much, much smaller than other Stonehearts like Topaz. For example, we constantly see Topaz's dumb "support squad" following her around in most of the events she shows up in, while we've never been introduced to a single "Aventurine support squad" member.

My suspicion is that, between the rampant racism and the undoubtedly common rumors about Aventurine's dangerous behavior, very few people are even willing to be put on his team in the first place. I suspect he's much more likely to be paired up with one or two "strategic partners" (like Ratio) and sent to handle things that way, rather than actually having a large group of underlings he directly supervises.

But just logistically speaking I'm sure he does have a few underlings, and I think... He's probably a very difficult person to work for, for a couple reasons:

He will almost certainly beat assholes to the punch. If a majority of the people who have been assigned to work with him don't want to be there, you can bet he's not going to wait around for new people to prove they are racist garbage. I imagine that, for the most part, he's off-putting and offensive to new people from the get-go. You ask which desk is yours and he just goes "Oh, feel free to set your things anywhere!" then turns around like: "Wowwww. Jim, this rookie is trying to steal the desk you've had for ten years! How inconsiderate our new friend is proving to be~!" New people on his team probably have the worst few weeks of their lives. (Because... If people are going to hate him on principle alone, he might as well give them a reason, right?) However, this has the effect of weeding out most of the people who are incapable of dealing with Aventurine's antics, so I imagine that the few who persevere through the hazing are probably genuinely decent folks. Those that make it past the initial "Let's see how much you hate Sigonians and disrespect me personally" vibe check probably end up on Aventurine's good side, and I think he eventually eases off his newbies after a while. (Not before they've proven their exceedingly high tolerance for shenanigans and even higher ceiling for shock factor, though. If a new employee makes it past the first month of working for Aventurine, literally nothing else will ever phase them. An elephant-sized Warp Trotter could warp them all six galaxies over and they'd just be like "Anyone got a working cell? I need to tell my babysitter I won't be back by 9.")

I think he's just never there. Absentee boss in the extreme. It's not that he ever slacks or doesn't do the work--it's just that he's constantly going off and doing the missions all on his own. It doesn't matter how many times the higher-ups assign him to do a team task, tell him he has to take the full squad... He just scampers off and does the deal entirely on his own, comes back covered in blood, and is like "Hey guys, I took care of the problem; enjoy some comp time on me!" I don't think he drags his average-level underlings into his dangerous gambles; I think he just does all the work with their clients by himself or with a high-caliber partner. You would think this would make him a great boss to work for, but I implore to put yourself in such an employee's shoes: You go into the office every morning only to see your to-do list is empty. Your boss isn't there to give you any new direction. After twiddling your thumbs for four hours, you find out the reason he isn't in the office this morning is that he's recovering from betting he could take an entire pack of Borisin in a fist fight. He's not in the hospital because of the fight (which he won). He's in the hospital because he was then promptly shot in the back by the guy he was betting with. Why is your life like this? Why must you be subjected to the soap opera of your boss's own self-destructive spiral?

Even when he's around, he's probably weirdly awkward. Don't get me wrong, I bet when he's in a good mood he throws all kinds of extravagant parties in the office, and his employees would never lack for bonuses and perks. But I think he has never really bothered to learn--or perhaps simply does not care--about normal managerial behaviors and boundaries. Like, you slip up and tell him your mother-in-law is in the hospital. He comes back five minutes later to tell you he's just bought six bouquets (sent from your address), commissioned a personally embossed card for her with your monogram, and contracted the services of the best-reviewed individualized medical team in Pier Point under your name. He's patting himself on the back for being an incredibly thoughtful boss. You don't know how to tell him that you haven't spoken to your mother-in-law in years, not since her last attempt to poison you. Every six months he buys the whole team new cars. You have no idea what to do with all these cars. It's too many cars. Put some cars back. He calls everyone his "friend," but even after working for him for years, you still have absolutely no idea about his likes, dislikes, or hobbies outside of the IPC. You could not name his favorite food if someone put a gun to your head. Does he exist outside of the workplace? You literally can't imagine him anywhere but on a mission or at a poker table. He's constantly bringing an "I am the party!" vibe to the room, but everyone else is a bored 8-5 worker who doesn't have a drop of enthusiasm left in their veins. It's like when a singer asks the audience to cheer along with a song, but nobody in the audience makes a peep. Absolutely no one in the IPC cubicles can match his particular freak. Aventurine's a smooth-talker and a street-smart cookie for sure, but something about the way his smile looks like it's made out of plastic when anyone tries to engage him in chitchat at the water cooler gives you the vague impression that he's probably never had an actual friend in his life. If "uncanny valley" was a vibe a workplace could have, Aventurine's office would have it.

Long story longer, I think Aventurine has very few people willing to tolerate him as a boss, whether because they are racist or simply because his quirks are just too quirky. However, I like to imagine the few who have hung in there are ride or die. You know they have an "Aventurine Protection Squad" group chat. They probably all wear peacock-teal and gold accessories in solidarity. They have definitely disappeared people for talking shit on their boss before. Aventurine has no idea how much they actually like him.

[lurkingshan]

(Different anon) I agree with and understand your points re: ~why you watch GMMTV if don't like??~ and why the question is/feels hostile.

But taking the question itself in good faith as "why do you (should I) keep watching shows I think/know I will not like based on how others have been handled?" in the genuine spirit of "explain like I'm 5 because I don't understand the lingo and background but want to understand the concept, how would you explain it to people not as into/knowledgeable/etc BL and the history of GMMTV?

Hi anon! This is an interesting question, because it depends so much on you as an individual and what makes you happy.

I think there is often a misconception that people who post critical meta are having a miserable time and torturing themselves with media they hate, but it's just not true. For folks like me who enjoy thinking critically, this is how we have fun. When I love something, I want to rip open its guts and see how it's all assembled. It's what stimulates my brain and gets me excited. And when I don't love something wholeheartedly, I am interested in figuring out why. I've often had the experience of watching something that I know should be working on me, and if it isn't, that creates an intellectual puzzle that I find very satisfying to solve. Why isn't it working, and what can that help me learn about storytelling? This is also fun for me.

Another misconception I often see in fandom is that if you like something, you can't have negative thoughts about it and you have to pretend it's perfect to be a good fan. Nonsense! Being a hater is fun, especially about things you truly love. I'll give you a really concrete example: Bad Buddy is one of my all time favorite shows. It first aired three years ago and I still think about it nearly every day. It's a show that stimulates my brain but also hits me straight in the heart. But I do not think it's perfect and I get a lot of joy from thinking about the parts that did not work (Wai's redemption, that stupid fake out in the finale, all of episode 9) and making fun of it (have you heard that PAT GOT SHOT??). This, too, is a form of love and source of joy.

So with those misconceptions addressed, why do I keep watching shows I suspect I won't like? First, because you truly never know until you try, and I like to be pleasantly surprised. Two of my favorite shows of this year, Cherry Magic Thailand and Knock Knock Boys, shocked the hell out of me. I went into CMT deeply skeptical only to be charmed against my will and so impressed by how they adapted it, and I went into KKB expecting it to be like 95% of weak Thai pulps only to realize its writing and themes were stronger than they had any right to be. If I stayed away from all media I thought I might not like, I would have never had the amazing experience of watching and discussing those two shows live with friends who also loved them.

Second, like I said above, I still have fun examining shows that are not quite working for me, and sometimes I am compelled by the ambition of shows even if I don't think the execution is serving. A great example of that is The Sign. I wanted to support that show because of who was making it, and it had so much early promise that when it fell apart halfway through, I stuck it out to try to make sense of what went wrong. In cases like that, I like to figure out what a show thinks it's doing, what it's actually doing, and where the disconnect is. It's a fun puzzle for me to sort through such an ambitious mess of a show. This is why, btw, I am never really moved by fanwanks to fill in gaps in story and characterization. I understand why others enjoy fixing shows in their brains and then pretending that's what they actually saw, but it's not what motivates me. My goal with shows like this is not to get myself to like it no matter what, it's to figure out why I don't like it and what could be changed to address that.

Third, I care about ql as a genre, and I like to be aware of how it's evolving and be part of the collective experience of watching it. QL fandom is tiny and I like to know what my friends are talking about! I can't watch everything because there is simply way too much content these days, but I like to watch or at least pay attention to most of the big buzzy shows to track trends and see what's getting the fandom frustrated or excited. I didn't watch We Are because I knew enough about what it was doing and who was involved to understand it was not for me, but I did pay attention to reactions to it. Watching Jack & Joker with Thai bl fandom right now is some of the most fun we've had since Only Friends killed our spirit. J&J is directed by my parasocial frenemy Tee Bundit, whose shows often frustrate the hell out of me and whom I have ripped to shreds on this platform many times over. But I'm not gonna let that stop me from having fun with this new show, because Joke is The Moment and we're all in this together.

So truly, anon: whether or not you should be like me and watch things you may not like or continue watching shows you don't think are very good depends on what motivates you. You should figure out what is most fun for you re: media consumption, and do that. You can seek out people who enjoy media the same way you do, and also befriend people who think differently if you want to learn from each other and don't mind a bit of productive discomfort from time to time. I have gotten better recently at recognizing when I'm just getting nothing out of a show and dropping it like a hot potato (because some shows are not bad in an interesting way, they are just bad), or realizing which shows I will like better on a binge (usually the ones with terrible pacing, that is not as tortuous for me when I can just watch it all in one go). You gotta do some testing to figure it out.

All of this has all been a really long-winded way to say you should do what makes you happy, and don't assume that just because someone else's happiness looks different from yours, that it's wrong.

[frostbitemutt]

some general yandere javier escuella hcs pleaseee

First request, nice.

Yandere! Javier Escuella hcs

!WARNINGS!: Gender Netrual darling, Yandere trope, forced relationship, possessive behavior, obssesive behavior and thoughts, murder, violence, stalking, kidnapping, manipulation

Main Traits

:|Possessive/Protective/Manipulative/Smothering|

✹ Mr.Esculla, previously a notorious bounty hunter, revolutionary, fleeing from his home country why? For killing a high ranking government official over a woman. Now an outlaw roaming America, wanted dead or alive in both countries. That's who you've unintentionally caught the attention of.

✹ I'm going to assume baseline here that you're part of the gang. Dosen't matter too much if you joined before or after him, he'll latch on either way. Over time, you'll naturally get to know each other, it's kinda hard not to. From minimal interactions, to a well formed friendship. I don't see his obsession coming about if you two have only had a couple chats

✹ As stated above, when his obsession sets in, it expresses itself through him displaying more possessive, protective, manipulative, and smothering behavior. Along with a few others. Those are simply the most blatant ones.

✹ His possessiveness shines through when you're out and about. Interacting with other folk. People that aren't him. Javier? Oh, no, he don't like that. Harsh glares at townsfolk who stand a bit too close, a swift death to drunken bastards who leer at you, and long drawn out deaths to any potential crushes or lovers you got.

✹ In a sick way he thinks he's protecting you. Keeping you distant from certain camp members like Micah, Arthur, maybe even John. Especially as the chapters go on. The drunkard he drowned? He would have tried to attack you. Stalking? No, no, no. You have it wrong. He's making sure you're safe. You don't know what's good for you.

✹ All just another way to manipulate you into falling for him. Trying to coax you into seeing him as more than a buddy. You trust him don't you? You'd believe him over the others right? He's done so much for you. He'd never mean you any harm. He just wants what's best for you. Some other members of the gang.. they don't care as much as he does. So just stick with him alright?

✹ He's big on smothering you with his attention. Purring out complements to see how you react, akward attempts at flirting, giving you fancy pocket watches he found, offering to upgrade your weapons for you, and getting you new clothes. Then if you allow it, he'll lean into you, pull you into half hugs, a resting hand on your shoulder, or full hugs that linger for a bit too long. It's very obvious to any bystander that he's smitten.

✹ Of course he'll stalk you, like a lot of yanderes do. He'll sit near your tent, watching you sleep, maybe even steal a thing or two. Not limited to clothes, hair, and jewelry. If you're a real heavy sleeper he'll just sit right beside you. Prodding and poking at you oh so gently, enough to where you won't stir. Itching for some kind of contact.

✹ Let's say now hypothetically you attempt to run, leave the gang, or just cut contact with him in general. Once again the reason dosent matter too much, could be you found out his behavior, you wanna leave outlaw life behind, or you sided with Arthur and John during that final showdown.

✹ That? Running from him? That's not gonna go over too well. He isn't one for letting go. He's almost insulted really. After all he's done for you? The loyalty he's shown you? Yeah, no. You're staying with him. Wether you want to oe not.

✹ His bounty hunting experience really shows, tracking you down by any means, shoe prints in the dirt, horse hoof prints, questioning around town, and just suspecting where you'd go. Inevitably he finds you. After a short tussle, or none at all if he sneaks up on you, you're being tied and tossed onto the back of his horse.

✹ Now, generally he dosen't hurt you. He tries his best not to be too harsh with his handling of you. He dosen't like seeing you hurt. If you got a dollar for each time he's gone ballistic at an odriscoll or cop that managed to get in a hit on you during a shootout, it would be enough to go to Tahiti.

✹ The one exception is here, you trying to part from him. He'll cause you injury if it means halting your plans. Nothing too severe. Of course. He isn't trying to kill you here. That'd kinda ruin the whole thing.

✹ You can complain all you want, shout at him, cry. His mind is set after you've tried to run. Don't worry though. It'll be just you two now! Off to start a new life together in Mexico. No more Arthur. No more Dutch. No more gang. No more Pinkertons. Just you and him.

[urautismdiagnosis]

Please give me your headcanons/ideas on Ranger Marsh, and my life is yours🙏 (He's my favorite old man yeehaw squeeeeeee)

YEAH HE IS

Ranger marsh is THE FATHER OF ALL TIME to me because listen-

I live in Florida. Whenever they talk about manatees or red tide or the effects of a cold snap im like YOOO I KNOW ABOUT THAT!!!

I need yall to understand 🙏 hes part of the fcking ecosystem.

He understands the needs and behaviours and everything about the everglades and its creatures. He knows how to talk to them and they know him and love him. He chooses to go out and help right away with this " I gotcha dont worry about nothing!" attitude

Hes so connected with it and its beautiful-

Its just that sense of community hes got with all the creatures in the everglades that makes me 🥺 hes got such a kind heart and he seems like the person to choose to do something because someone has to yk?

Alot of people would be offput by all the bugs and heat and etc, but he just goes oh well and keeps going along and I think that is SO special

And im gonna be honest here. Alot of people ARENT. Like at all, and they do the dumbest sht

One time my dad and I were on a board walk near a river that had gators in it and there were signs about it too. We saw this??? Fcking guy in a whole business suit with his kid wanting to give a little gator fcking store bought chicken nuggets??? 💀🙏 we like kindly explain uhhh heyyy don't do that cuz u don't want gators to associate humans with food or (gestures broadly to all the many reasons u shouldn't feed wild animals)

And then we continued our walk, but when we turned back we fcking saw a mini crowd (with several small kids leaning THROUGH THE GAP in the railing) surrounding a guy with a kiddie fishing pole trying to??? Idk feed the gator the chicken nuggets.

There were signs about not disturbing the wildlife.

I didnt exaggerate a single aspect of this btw.

Like thank fck gators are ambush predators and not chasers cuz those guys can run and climb like nobody's business... and hide under cars

SIDE TANGEANT ASIDE alot of people just aren't in tune with and have like a totally unrealistic and detached from reality expectation of that kinda nature. But ranger marsh (i headcanon that his first name is Rover btw cuz not only is that a flooding guy name but cmon- RIVER MARSH?!!) Is always so patient about explaining that kind of stuff to the others in the show

Hes got an understanding and a system on how to handle things.

Also I do appreciate how he struggles with understanding technology and prefers old fashioned ways. Because while there are alot of folks like that, alot of people can be... very aggressive about it if u disagree with them :(

But ranger marsh, while he can't understand, he still does come around and appreciates it the best he can yk? Like sure he doesn't get WHY and he sucks at it, but he comes around and appreciates it, even if it isn't always for him

The awe he felt when the gup k went under water and he saw the world he loves from an entirely new angle? Oh my god my heart-

He would absolutely take in any stray creature that needs help, he feels like the kinda guy that would've tried to help a wild animal heal up in the garage when they were a kid and everyone else told him not to touch it 🥺

Also personal headcanon time:

I dont think this guy could keep a secret for the life of him. Like this guy doesn't even realize, he feels like the guy would would see something weird and then go " well ill be i never did see anythin as strange as that before" to a fcking bush or the sky

He sort just has this factual way of speaking that reminds me of people who go "well yeah well when ya go n talk her dont mention x and x cuz I'm pretty sure she's suspecting her boyfrens been cheatin on her and oh I wasn't supposed to share that was i."

Also I feel like maybe I'm just projecting and making him autistic but like??? Has a hard time dealing with change??? Likes being in the wild with a bunch of creatures??? Probably needs his "two hours of contemplating on the back porch" every day ????

Hes absolutely the type to want to dig in the mud for hours thank you, he absolutely went fck living a normal life in society I want to be friends with the animals under my porch

I desperately want him to basically go "hm ok ur staying here for tonight" to calico jack who is the equivalent of a (very kind and gentle) feral stray 🙏

I'm gonna make a post about their dynamic later lol

Cuz likes its an old funky pirate cat with isolation issues thats probably scared of gators and Caimens for I lost me leg reasons and hasn't had like a normal meal in probably over a decade at least

(Cj probably can't handle dairy but he's gonna try (and fail) ranger marsh probably makes delicious mac n cheese)

also cj literally uses a peg leg that can NOT be good for his back, like there's so much special care needed if u have a proper prosthetic but a peg leg is like 💀🙏 so bad

I feel like CJ is this very kind and gentle soul, but the second he meets someone his age (cuz they ARE around the same age) he just becomes a wet gremlin, ill yap more about it on their dynamic post tho

As for the question of "ayyo whats up with ranger marshes wife or rather tweaks mom what's up with that"

I dont think tweaks mom died or anything, I think they just divorced when she was in like middle school and then he got her legos to try to help her feel better 😭

probably just cuz of personal differences... but yk some people can get kinda :| during divorces and stuff

I feel like they were probably high school sweethearts that got married before they even grew as people

It seems to me like tweak was probably homeschooling and definitely was skipping grades and whatever

I liek to think she has lego models of all her gups and that she had an emo phase in middle school 🙏 she still has the spirit in her soul but let's be real she's probably too busy elbows deep in an engine to upkeep that stuff anymore lol

(Ik we saw a younger tweak before in the show but like who says it wasn't at a different point in her life lol)

I dont think she was necessarily into emo specifically as a way to rebel her own parents btw (at least not her dad) but just because she liked the culture lol and was probably on my space as a teen

She 100% tried to take her dad to a monster truck show at least once and he absolutely did not understand the hype 😭 but tweak was inspired to take inspiration from the mix of animal designs and unique shapes into something more eco friendly and versatile tho

Like the gup k is just a wetland monster truck 🙏

She absolutely had years of trial and error with all sorts of gizmos that exploded at least a few times before she got the hang of engineering

Probably tried to make all sorts of things to help the little critters her pa took care of

Might be part of the reason he doesn't understand tech that well because when ur a kid without alot of money u gotta work with what u have and sometimes that doesn't always work out XD but hey restriction of choices can lead to alot of unique and creative solutions!

idk the exact reason why ranger marsh and his wife would've divorced,maybe it was just a difference in how they envisioned their life styles and the fact ranger marsh seems a bit too "introverted and quiet" for a more social life and environment with a normal job tbh

(Cough autism cough they are both autistic in different ways cough)

but the everglades have always been tweaks home and I doubt she wanted to leave. I think she still talks to her mom and stuff but just... not that much

I dont really think ranger marsh would've tried again in that type of relationship, hes too busy being busy with life and enjoying the small moments

And hot cocoa from the machine that tweak gave him as a gift

He absolutely helped her keep her room organized and tidy as a kid tho, but look at her room into he octopod now XD

Also SOMEONE MAKE HIM SAY " BLESS THEIR HEART" PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE THATS THE NUMBER ONE SOUTHERN SAYING-

Like 🥺 idk if yall know but bless ur heart can mean alot of different stuff depending on the context- it can go from "oh my goodness thats awful I can empathize with that and I wish them the best" to "well.... that person has no FCKING idea what they're doing but.... bless that idiots heart hes trying😂 🙏"

[wannabanauthor]

My Night ADHD Brain wants to write a check that my Day ADHD Brain can't cash

So on my drive home from work, I was thinking about that coworkers with benefits outline post for BuckTommy from a few days ago, and I think I actually want to write it.

It would be so much fun to see how they go from meeting to fucking in the span of a week. Especially with Tommy still being closeted and Buck not even knowing he's into men.

You know the hate sex would be so much fun to write. Well, not hate, more like "you're annoying as fuck" Tommy vs "you're wound too tight" Buck.

But before I even start, I need to look up a fire station layount/blueprint because I do not want to use the same sex locations as those in Sick With It by Mellow Yellow. I just need to find more creative places for them to fuck, if it even happens in the fire station.

It could be in a bar parking lot, or in a car, or even in the locker room. I could see Buck jacking Tommy off in the locker room in a race against time for the other crew's shift. Hell, he'd probably join Tommy in the showers for a quick blowjob while Tommy is struggling to keep quiet. Maybe they almost get caught hooking up on shift, so Tommy refuses to put out at work, so they have to make more of an effort to keep their little fling going.

Oooh, even better: introducing Eddie as their platonic friend well into their affair, and they get even more jealous of each other because they both like being Eddie's friend but also suspect the other of being interested in Eddie, but neither of them are.

Maybe at Eddie's House Warming Party, they have a minor spat, and they manage to sneak off and talk it out, and maybe Hen or Chimney walks in on them kissing.

And since both of them are talented and creative, I see their sex life as very varied and fun. Tommy loves muffling Buck's moans so they don't get caught, and Buck loves the thrill of almost getting caught. Maybe things change for them when they start hooking up primarily in each others' residences, and feelings kind of grow from there because it's much more intimate. Maybe they avoid beds for the longest, but eventually give in after a tiring shift, and they accidentally fall asleep together in Tommy's bed.

Neither one of them wants to admit how nice it is to wake up in bed next to each other, so they kind of start self-sabotaging to avoid thinking about how fond of each other they're becoming.

But Tommy can't help but become nicer to Buck during work, and they're often seen smiling at each other, talking, lauging, etc. Some of the FireFam are perplexed on how they went from arguing to being friends.

So when they start having real feelings for each other, they both can't handle it, so they start bickering and one day they both just snap and have a full on fight yelling at each other in front of everyone.

I'm really trying my best not to accidentally plagiarize from Mellow Yellow, so maybe tomorrow I'll have a more cohesive and unique way to approach this possible fanfic.

If anyone else wants to write this, I'd be more than happy to read it on AO3. We are creative folk, so even if we all have the same prompt, we can still end up with different work.

[burnwater13]

Image depicts Grogu, Din Djarin, and a grey haired Jedi sitting at a table that has a pot and a couple of cups on it. A table in the background holds a deactivated lightsaber and a blaster. Items made with LEGO building bricks. Image by me.

Grogu couldn’t have been happier. By the time he, Jedi Seb, and his dad returned to Ki’s Place, the diner was free of troublesome Klatooinians, Corellian Security personnel, and Muun’s old friend, Days Ardos. That meant it was clean, smelled of noodles, and was filled with people. 

Clearly the clientele of Ki’s Place had a hotline for notifying folks when trouble was there and when it was over. Fortunately for Grogu, the other Mandos were gone and Ki herself escorted the trio to one of the ‘Mandalorian’ rooms. Before he even had a chance to say what he wanted for food, food arrived. Noodle soup, fire stacks, caf for his dad, and a large glass of ferment for Jedi Seb. Everything had gone right and that was a great reason to be happy.

Once the eating and drinking had settled down, Grogu tried to explain to Seb what he’d heard about the Brethren and why he wanted to know more. The older human listened to him and remained silent for some time after Grogu finished his explanation. Grogu hoped it was the good sort of silence that indicated a long story with a lot of information. He crossed his fingers and hoped for the best.

“As you know, the Force has many different groups that appreciate it for what it is, a few that believe it is something it is not, and a few more who simply use it for what it can do for them. As a trained Jedi youngling, you were selected based on your innate ability to recognize the Force and utilize its nature for your person interests. All Jedi younglings were selected on that basis. It is not a bad thing to use the Force to catch frogs or help your dad. It is not even a bad thing to use the Force to defend yourself and your friends against enemies. But you know, Jedi do not use the Force to end people. Or critters for that matter. In words your father might appreciate more, that’s not the Way. That is why we have lightsabers.

As a Jedi youngling moves to padawan and then Knight and beyond, we don’t just use the Force for our own purposes. We begin to understand what it is and how it affects all things within the galaxy and beyond. That understanding changes how we interact with the Force and how it appears to us. Balance becomes a far more important aspect of our work with the Force. And that is where the Jedi often fall down. Balance is hard and it requires sacrifices that Jedi were not trained to understand or handle well. 

There comes a time for all Jedi when they must decide which path they will follow. That of the Jedi Masters or something else. For many, the something else was following the way of the Sith.”

Grogu must have gasped. Jedi Seb stopped speaking and gave Grogu a long, sort of sad look. 

“I understand. That seems very shocking, even based on your experience, but let me assure you, most of the Jedi who considered that change did not think they were going to turn in Darth Vader or any other Sith you might name. They hoped to move faster, farther, and help more deeply. The concept of balance eluded them and then they fell, piece by piece, not all at once. 

I chose to leave the order, rather than fall down those stairs in slow motion. That is not my Way. And I did not wish to do things faster or without structure. The Jedi Way suited me until it did not. So I went searching for my path. I visited my family. I…”

What! Jedi Seb knew who his family was? How did that happen? Grogu couldn’t think of another case of that happening.

“Yes, I know, it was very unusual Grogu. I knew my adopted parents and my brothers. My brother Kish kept in contact with me over my years on Coruscant and Dantooine and many other locations. How he managed that… well we have never really talked about it. I suspect it was love that kept him connected to me and I am infinitely grateful for that. That connection and love served me well when I left the temple. 

My family helped me set my new path in a balanced way.”

Jedi Seb paused and examined his empty ferment glass. 

“Which finally brings me to the Brethren. As I said at the shipyard, they are a secretive group. They have been a part of the galaxy for thousands of years. As long as the Jedi, perhaps longer. They do not fight the way the Jedi or the Sith are known to fight. They do not seek to collect and analyze all the knowledge of the galaxy and beyond, like the Monks of B’omarr. They are nothing like the Night Sisters or the Witches of Dathomir, or any of the other known cults. 

They are a large, extended family, including foundlings, and people such as myself, those adopted into families that have no Jedi/Force cult history. They fix planets. It takes years, sometimes lifetimes. Sometimes, many lifetimes. You have been on planets where the Brethren work and you don’t even realize they are there. That is their way. They seek to repair balance in nature because the Force depends upon it, and that requires a level of anonymity that even Sith envy. 

That is the choice in front of you, Grogu. Work quietly on a project that may outlive even your very long lifespan or continue to address more immediate problems under your father’s direction and with his aid. In both cases you will have your family and friends at your side. Importantly, the Brethren do not care what age you join them at. Unlike the Jedi whose process demanded that children be largely unexposed to the harsher realities of life in this galaxy, the Brethren would take even an old man like me. Enjoy the life you have now and consider changing your path when that is no longer true.”

Grogu had to remind himself to take a breath. He’d been listening to Jedi Seb so intently he even forgot that he might want another fire stack. He looked over at his dad and it struck Grogu that Din Djarin had been silent during the whole ‘discussion’. That was unprecedented. 

“Thank you, Seb Ta’low. Would you like something else to drink or eat? Or to use the privy? I think Grogu needs another fire stack. I know I do.”

Grogu smiled at his dad. It would take a Mandalorian to bring them right back to the here and now. Food. Drink. Privies. Life’s needs had to be met and perhaps that was how Mandalorians maintained balance. It was worth thinking about. After fire stacks. Yup. After.

To be continued...

[fuck-customers]

kitchen anon back with an ecstatic update!

J finally got fired :)

his hours had been severely cut and he was working more often at a different venue in our collection of businesses. after like a full pay period i finally worked a shift with him again. however, the two new folks in my section (EXCELLENT, by the way, i cannot sing their praises enough, both to the chef and to their faces) had both been scheduled that night. by the time J showed up that night we had already gotten almost everything done and really just needed to make ranch dressing.

so he starts roaming the kitchen, slouching, dragging his feet, hands in his pockets (all of which chef has told him not to do, for various reasons including he’s putting himself in everybody’s way and we don’t have that much space to move, and which chef later confessed to me he had already been considering writing him up/firing him for on its own) instead of like. finding some kind of busy work or something? wipe a counter, sweep a floor, stock something. idk. one way or another we had more hands on deck than were needed for the night and i had to be in early the next morning. however i did get very smug when the line lead told him to get back to “his section” and J got loud and bitchy about “it’s not MY section anymore, it’s [Anon]’s section,” because he’s fucking mad that i make him look bad for giving a fuck about the quality of the work i’m performing i guess lmfao

anyway given my official position as a floater, i asked chef if he wanted to put me anywhere else for dinner service, because we didn’t need four people in a section that two people can handle on a busy night when we’re well-prepared (like we have been since the two new folks showed up). he said no and sent me home, but little did i know he was planning to test J. i learn of this the next morning when one of the new folks greets me with “i need to tell you what happened last night”

the breakdown i got was that after i left, J wasn’t calling back orders, and chef was riding his ass for it all night. he’d call a dish on the fly, J wouldn’t call that he heard and just start working on it, and chef would lean through the expo window to snap at him. he continued to trudge around with his thumb up his ass between orders. later, towards the end of service but before they had stopped seating new customers, still actively preparing food and calling orders to each other, J’s got his earbuds in. line lead scolds him, snaps that “you know better than to have those in during service,” and chef happened to be rounding the corner at the time, and sent him home with like half an hour before service closed. chef made a comment about how he wanted to give him a chance because he’d initially hit it off and worked well with the new girl (who initially relayed these events), and J scoffed, with her standing right there and having to hold her tongue to stay uninvolved, but she revealed later how tempted she’d been to tell him off right there. after he left, chef pulled her aside and assured the section wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

chef confirmed these events with me later when he confessed that he’d been considering firing already; he usually only pursues it as a last resort because people tend to look for other jobs at the first sign of trimmed hours in our already inconsistent open schedule, and he doesn’t like filling holes in the staff lineup with temp workers—he’d rather replace them before they leave. J hadn’t quit at our venue, but had been working at the other site; chef confessed to me that he didn’t suspect J would be working there much longer, especially full-time, because the chefs and shift leads in that industrial-scale kitchen over there are going to crack down much harder on those behaviors.

between me, the line lead, and the new folks all coming to chef about J’s attitude and behavior and failure to communicate or cooperate, after so long without him on site chef had hoped he’d take the opportunity to try and show he was willing to turn around. instead J gave him the perfect straw to break the camel’s back on a silver fucking platter, and i remember the way the sun kissed the green hills of the shire.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[formosusiniquis]

Chapter Two

There’s no gravel crunching beneath his tires, as Eddie pulls up the drive to the house. Pop must have had it paved sometime after Eddie sliced his knee open to the bone at twenty catching Dustin and his tumbling bike. But even on smooth concrete Eddie thinks he can hear the leitmotif of abandonment repeating. Especially when he’s parking his beater van next to a new model Corolla in the drive.

He grabs the wheel of the car hard enough that he can see the skin whiten, veiny way his knuckles drained of blood.

A screech from the passenger seat reminds him that technically he’s the one doing the abandoning. Majesty perched atop his estate sale doctor’s bag, definitely ruining the leather on the handle but hopefully not crushing any of the medical necessities that Eddie keeps with the rest of his toiletries inside. Having given up on ascribing something akin to humanity to the bird the moment he was threatened for pulling out a cat carrier so they could take their hour long trip down the interstate, Eddie thinks now that the expression on its face is wariness.

If he looked even close to this scared he wonders how The Artist could have left.

“I’m gonna level with you,” he says. “You are staying here. Not like here here, I gotta drop off my luggage and check on my folks and also the bird place doesn’t open until tomorrow. But you are staying in Hawkins.”

The low rumble he gets in response is hard to interpret, so is the stoic white of its moon shaped face.

He looks out his windshield, half expecting a Pop who was still hanging onto his 30’s to be out on the wraparound porch, drying his sudsy hands and hiding his disappointment at what he already suspected was happening. His left leg bouncing, Eddie feels like his younger self is sitting just below the surface of his skin fighting to come out. Ike if he looks in his reflection he’ll have gone back in time in his sleep.

His younger self, angry and scared. Who dumped his clean laundry, waiting to be folded, into the old leather suitcase Ma had given him at his high school graduation. He had come back, just like he promised.

Maybe that’s why he’s different. The Artist had promised to come back, and he’d waited for years before he realized that was a promise that wasn’t coming true.

His front seat companion makes another affronted noise, ruffling feathers and glaring at Eddie with an impatient sneer. He had turned off the car and there was a chill from the late fall air seeping into the cab of the van.

“Yeah, let's get it over with, huh?”

Coming around to the passenger side, he gently helps Majesty up to his shoulder to perch. A bag in each hand, the silhouette he must paint going up the front steps to the door reminds him of a fantasy hero not yet sure how to approach his call to action. Bilbo with his bags in hand, thinking he’s ready to leave the Shire but bringing as much of it along with him as he can. And also he has a bird.

It’s not a perfect visual metaphor.

Especially when it’s more like he’s the sad main plot of an ER episode.

Or an eccentric Austen hero come to stay with an ailing relative until he gets swept up in some grand romantic plot; the ailing family relegated to B plot until their untimely, dramatic death. Majesty starts preening his hair, distracting him from the fact that he's plotting Pop’s death in the nonexistent narrative structure of his life.

Reaching up to fix whatever it is his companion is doing, Eddie gets his fingers nipped for his trouble. It’s the first time Majesty has actually done anything close to hurting him since he’s had it.

Distracted, Eddie isn’t paying attention to what he’s walking into until he’s standing in the middle of the storm.

“You can just go back to school- oh hell.” 

Pop looks spitting mad, sitting up in his recliner in the living room. Eddie can just make out the flushed frustration making its way through the sickly pallor from where he’s standing in the open doorway. Ma is behind him, can feel her steady presence even if he can’t see her. In the quiet he’s now created, he can hear the soft rusting of cotton. He can picture her careworn face, wonders if she was able to sleep at all last night or if there are bags beneath her eyes.

There are under Dustin’s. Eyes red. He’s midway up the stairs, hand gripping the handrail so tight it's shaking underneath him. His face is pinched, mouth pulled into a lipless line. 

“I told both of you not to bother coming in,” Pop says in the same tone of voice he usually says, ‘I told you I didn't need anything for my birthday’ or ‘You put money in one more card I'm going to start sending them back unopened.’

It’s a very Pop thing to say, stubborn and trying to turn the dramatic into a joke. But that doesn’t make it land any better. Ma sighs from behind him, long and annoyed, the way he’s only heard when she’s telling stories about difficult patients; and Dustin, well he’s never seen Dustin like this.

Fear has taken its sharp and ragged edges, cut away at itself until it resembles something more like anger. A storebrand version of the emotion, Dustin is shaking from tip to toe and his eyes are bright with a thousand things he must be holding on the tip of his tongue. But Dustin is shaking and Eddie has spent a long time riling up his brother, annoying him the way only family can. Even enraged, his brother manages a steely calm and a surgically still hand.

“Well I’m just here for the room,” Eddie jokes, before fear drags something Dustin can’t take back from his mouth. “I’ve got a friend who needs a visit to the animal sanctuary.” He wiggles his shoulder enough that Majesty introduces himself to the rest of the room, trilling like it’s some kind of dove instead of the screams it’d been making since Eddie picked it up. It’s suspicious, but then being suspicious of a bird is the kind of thing his therapist would raise an eyebrow at before making a note in his pad.

“But,” Eddie continues, “if it’s cramping your style, Pops, I’ll be sure to hang around for a bit.”

Dustin scoffs and disappears up the stairs, Eddie assumes to his room where he’ll hopefully sleep off the lingering jitters from the redeye he must have taken to get here from Massachusetts before Eddie could shoot down 65.

“You’re welcome here anytime you want as long as you want,” Ma says, a gentle hand at his shoulder pulls her into his eyeline for the first time. It’ll make him sound like a shit, but she’s looked better. Like Dustin she looks bleary eyed and stressed out, decades of nursing experience under her belt he isn’t sure if he likes what it means that she’s also losing sleep about all of this.

“Thanks Ma.”

“Your guest probably wants some sleep,” she lifts a hesitant finger toward Majesty. She coos as it rewards her, rubbing his face against her offered finger like a cat. “Why don’t you both go upstairs and get settled.”

Read the rest on AO3

[vixen525noms]

Defying Certain Death Part 20

Dual posted to my DeviantArt account, a non-sexual G/T vore story featuring adults along the lines of the lion and the thorn fable. There will be tons of hurt/comfort aspects, lots of safe vore. That is the primary focus in this.

Barrett is an adult giant standing 85ft tall and Hope is an adult human at 5ft 6. Barrett does not eat children at any point. 

Warnings: Fighting; Fatal Mention; Characters in Distress

Future and Previous: While this part has no fatalities, future parts include fatal vore and violence. Barrett, the giant, is not a good guy, so will be doing some occasional bad things.

Editor: @vore-scientist

Picture | First | Previous | Next

Since what happened with the thieves, Barrett did not like being away from camp for long. He didn’t like the idea of Hope being vulnerable or at risk, but taking care of her during her illness hadn’t let him hunt as frequently as usual. He didn’t want to leave her alone, but she also clearly didn’t like seeing when he ate humans, and he suspected she would react similarly to seeing him eat any other sort of small folk. But he needed food, and going hungry longer than usual meant he couldn’t afford to be picky. Which unfortunately meant leaving Hope at camp and hoping the smell of a syor living there would scare off most things. At least today had been a good hunt. A nice moose was caught, not a common find, and large enough to be rather filling. He paused on his walk back and his ears flicked as he heard an unfamiliar male voice. And he dropped his catch and charged forward. He flicked up the tertiary eyelid organ to see past the trees…something larger than Hope was at their camp. His feet moved with instinct before thoughts even formed. 

Another predator was in camp. Another predator was with his Hope.

“MINE!”

-----Earlier....-----

Hope was rather startled when a large naga, standing probably about 25 ft tall or a tad shorter, came through the trees. He had long curly hair that was so intensely black it was as if dipped in ink, but there were streaks of gray despite no other outward signs of great age.. From his vibrant blue coloration, and his thick build, he wasn't one of the native varieties. She wondered if his kind, like native nagas, had the potential to be dangerous predators. He very well could be, but if he was, he wasn't hunting her, instead he smiled warmly, “Hello there! I think I got a bit lost. Can you tell me where I am?”

Still, she was a bit wary. This could be a trick. And yet… How long had it been since she’d talked to someone? “I haven’t seen nagas your size in this area before. Too close to a syor settlement for them to thrive.”

The naga paused, considering, “Then I must be very far off track... May I sit here?” he asked as he gestured near where she sat on the shore of the lake.

 Hope nodded, “I don’t mind... but you may not want to stay long. There’s a syor in the area, and I doubt he would react well to you.”

The naga nodded in return, then curled up in a seated position near her before reassuring her and introducing himself, “That’s alright. I’m quite confident I can handle myself. I’ve studied quite a bit of magic. I’m Taevis by the way.”

The potential overconfidence didn't do much to assuage Hope’s concerns. But they had just started talking and it was going so well, and Barrett was probably still hunting decently far away. “I’m Hope. You say you studied magic but didn’t mention the college... Did you study somewhere else? Like I heard there’s places of study on the far continent... I hope you are right about being able to defend yourself from a syor. He will come back for me... so far doesn’t seem to intend to eat me, but that could probably change at any time... but he definitely isn’t going to let me run off. He left me here while he went to hunt, you can see the tent he uses right over there. If you want, I have a pretty good idea of the direction of the nearest syorian town. They can help you get your bearings there.”

Taevis listened attentively to her, frowning a bit at her ramblings. “If you want me to leave that badly, I can head off... but I was enjoying your company. I’ve been wandering lost for a while now.”

Hope’s eyes widened as she realized her rudeness and she shook her head vigorously, “Oh I definitely love the company. Since that syor has decided to... I don’t know... keep me? I haven’t had much chance to speak to people. Mostly just him, and that’s mostly me hoping every day that he doesn’t change his mind about keeping me alive. I just worry about your safety is all. If you are that confident you can defend yourself, I really do love having someone to talk to. I’ve missed it.”

Taevis’ face flushed slightly, “I don’t intend to scare, but I’m pretty confident I’m one of the most dangerous things around! I’d be far more worried about being lost than about the syor. But even if I’m dangerous, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m really glad to have run into someone so helpful to a stranger!”

 “I like to help people... but my desire to help others has gotten me in trouble a few times,” Hope chuckled nervously, “Like the fact these days I rarely get to see or talk to anyone. Last time he found a traveler, he just ate them. Can’t exactly have a conversation if the person immediately becomes food... And it’s not like I can have much conversation with the syor... I’m still not sure how long he’s going to keep me around before I end up like that traveler.” Hope shrugged and took a deep breath , “But nothing I can do about it, so at the very least I can be kind to the first person I’ve had a proper conversation with in... I’m not even sure how long anymore. Two months? Three?”

Taevis considered her words then smiled down at Hope, “You could always come with me. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t go around eating travelers, at least. I have no real idea where I’m going at the moment, but it sounds better than staying here!”

Hope sighed even deeper and tried to laugh but it came out wrong, “That’s very kind of you, but I guarantee the syor won’t let me go. But until he comes back, if you want, I have plenty of food. He’s been taking everything the travelers carry, and the amount of food... it’ll go bad before I could ever eat it all. It’s in that cart over there. As for directions... following the lake shore that way will lead to a river. There’s a town just upstream,” she pointed in the direction of the town. 

This new revelation surprised Taevis, “He eats travelers and makes you use their stuff? That’s kind of fucked up! And it seems a proper comb hasn’t been in those supplies. How about I help you with your hair a bit, since you’ve helped me with my problem of being lost?”and he pulled a human sized comb from one of the pouches at his waist.

Now it was Hope’s turn to be surprised, and she nodded hesitantly. She tensed up when he put his hands around her to pick her up and set her on his coils, if he was hunting her she was now in his clutches. At least she knew Barrett would avenge her. Then her fear melted away as the comb went through her hair.  The strong but delicate hands held her secure and though the comb pulled a bit, it felt nice rather than painful. She didn't even flinch when he took out a knife to cut the dead ends. How long had it been since someone had been gentle with her?

Hope was so relaxed she didn't hear Taevis ask her about her life before ending up in her current situation. He had to repeat the question. Now she genuinely smiled, not a shred of discomfort left, “I had a beautiful farm... I actually came out this way to get some new...”

“MINE!”

The roar came as Barrett charged out of the trees.

The naga hissed and slithered back rapidly and held himself tall, knife in one hand, and with the other… Well he tried to put Hope behind him, to protect the vulnerable human. But she ran out and stood between the two monsters. 

Hope was determined to defuse the situation without bloodshed, and she knew Barrett’s first instinct would be to grab her, though she was worried that Taevis would attack as she was lifted up by the syor. Thankfully he didn’t. And more thankfully, Barrett, who was running on pure possessive instinct, didn't crack any ribs snatching her up. 

With Hope in hand Barrett’s eyes looked down upon the naga, taking its smaller size and making quick judgments as to how dangerous it may be. His predator calculations worked quickly to give him an answer. “Looks like I don’t need to hunt anymore…”

A deeper hiss, almost a growl, came from the naga, “Listen, syor. I did not come seeking a fight, but it will not go well if you press the issue.” 

Barrett growled lower, “You were messing with something that belongs to me. I know you could smell I have been here a while and she is mine. Besides, I still need a meal.”

“I recommend hunting elsewhere,” Taevis warned, eyes flashing.

Barrett smirked, confident as he extended his claws, “But I just found something large enough I won’t have to hunt for a few days… Why would I walk away from such a substantial meal?”

The naga exhaled a cloud of frosty mist, intending the elemental magic to be sufficient warning and make it clear to this syor that physical size won’t win this fight. A miscalculation on his part, the syor charged forward and slashed with his claws. The unexpected stupidity caught Taevis off guard and he felt pain as the claws made contact. Then the lightning Taevis had been preparing struck Barrett’s arm, making the syor jerk back as his skin burned and muscles seized with electricity and pain. 

Barrett hesitated to charge again, his predator brain re-calculating. While a large meal was good, getting Hope away from this other predator was top priority. It was time to leave, or convince the naga to leave. Cursing from the pain of the attack he spat at the naga, “What the fuck… nagas don’t do that… Just… get out of here. I’ll just eat the human.”

Taevis let out a very un-naga-like growl, “I was afraid you’d say that,” and lunged forward with another bolt of electricity. At the same time Barrett pulled a dagger from his waist, snarling. 

Barrett charged again, slashing the dagger at the naga’s face and cutting him across the cheek. This time he knew he lacked the element of surprise, and making contact with the knife wasn't his true goal. As Taevis moved away Barrett anticipated the direction and kicked at the naga’s serpent body, punting it into the lake. It landed with a satisfying splash and Barrett allowed himself a self congratulatory purr. Until the surface of the lake bulged, a hill as large as himself made of water rose up, and broke. 

Instead of a naga emerging from the water, a horned humanoid that was, to Barrett's acute dismay, well over a head taller than he was. Horns curved back on the head, bluish silver scales visible on the cheeks under the gash from the dagger. Decorative metal decorated the horns as well as earrings and even gold cuffs on the draconic wings spreading behind him. A long reptilian tail, adorned with those silver scales and fins on the end lashed back and forth creating waves taller than Hope in the water. True vicious talons on the hands made Barrett suddenly aware of his own less substantial retractable claws. A demidragon. Offspring or descended from true dragons, and no less dangerous than the full blooded sort.

The demidragon stepped out of the lake, clawed feet furrowing the damp ground, and Barrett struggled to not show apprehension as Taevis spread his wings to further emphasize his superior size. Barrett was determined to deny Taevis the satisfaction and showing any fear. And Barrett was afraid… but Hope was his and only his, so he tightened his grip on his blade, and held Hope to his chest. “Just leave! I won’t let you take her!” Focusing on his own abilities, Barrett decided to demonstrate the magic syor did have. He flung the dagger, using his natural magic to shoot it towards Taevis’ wing joint. But the demidragon, with an agonizingly casual motion, blocked it with an arm.

With his focus split between his dagger and his Hope, even his quick reflexes failed as Taevis quickly turned his thick tail, sweeping Barrett’s feet out from under him, followed by a horrible loud THUMP and CRACK as Barrett landed on his back. “Don’t you fucking touch Hope! I’ll cut your throat!” His voice broke with fear instead of aggression as he tried the knife again, flinging it wildly at Taevis. 

Having announced the second attack, Taevis was easily able to grab the dagger from mid-air. He ignored the blood dripping from his palm and electricity crackled through his hand, heating the knife white hot and deforming it in the shape of his grip.

Taevis let it drop as he stepped forward, placed a heavy clawed foot on Barrett's chest, knelt down, and got his talons around the wrist which held Hope. Barrett’s eyes narrowed and he growled, “I’ll bite your throat out! I won’t let you take her!” 

Taevis ignored him and spoke words that Barrett did not recognize, summoning gleaming magic that wrapped rapidly around the syor. Once the syor was thoroughly immobilized, Taevis growled, “You want to eat her. I’m not going to let that happen.” He pressed his talons into the soft underflesh of Barrett's wrist and with his other hand pried open Barretts fist. It wasn't that hard, the syor was not crushing the human; not that surprising since they like them alive and squirming after all. 

Barrett snarled at the demidragon, “Like I would actually eat the woman who saved my life!” 

That piqued Taevis’ interest and against his better judgment he let the syor continue to breathe and speak. 

“But saying that makes other syor back off so I thought it would work with other predators!” 

Taevis studied the syor’s expression, thinking. He wasn’t from this region, but had heard from travelers that syor were unusually honest, unless deceit was needed for extreme situations. Keeping a human was not an extreme situation.. Protecting kin, mates, and other giants that were close might qualify and thus force abnormally honest creature to lie… But he did not have enough experience with the species to be sure. 

“Hmm… Do not try to get loose from your bindings.” He moved to open his own hand that had taken Hope from the syor, holding her on upturned palm to try to make her feel less restrained, “Hope, is what he saying true? He threatened to rip my throat out… which was… unexpected.” He could see Hope was nervous with his larger size, so he further adjusted his hold and she relaxed a bit more. 

It still took a moment for her to find her voice, “I… did save his life. That’s what I meant by helping others ending badly… I was about to tell you before he showed up… and… he has said he’ll eat me to another syor who tried to grab me once… but I’ve never been sure if saving his life was enough that he wouldn’t change his mind about keeping me alive…” 

Barrett was surprised by the last part of what Hope said, “I was half starved after you spent weeks freeing me from that rockslide and I didn’t kill you then! Why would I kill you now when I’m not half starved to death?”

In an attempt to reassure Hope, Taevis cupped his hand slightly to provide a cage of talons between her and the syor. His eyes flashed as he glared at Barrett, “I was speaking to the young woman. I am not going to trust you until she corroborates your claims… Besides, can‘t hardly blame her with your kind’s reputation.”

To Taevis’ surprise, Hope peeked over his hand to look at Barrett, “Your kind is notorious for having no regard for human life, and the way you have been hunting travelers makes it clear that hasn’t changed!” her harsh expression turned to surprise as she heard her own torrent of words. She sighed, sitting down on Taevis’s palm as she considered what else her new… friend? captor? wanted to know, “I… I don’t know. I’ve been stuck with him this long and… I just don’t know. He acts sorta nice, for a syor I guess… but also won’t let me leave… It didn't exactly help matters when he tortured and ate my father right in front of me…”

Barrett’s ears twitched at the mention of her father, “I do not regret eating your father. When I brought him back because he smelled like you, the look of pure fear on your face at the sight of him made it clear what I had to do.”

“Should I give you two some privacy?” Taevis narrowed his eyes, “Or perhaps it is my having her safe from you that allows such a discussion…” His tone softened a bit, “If so can at least get more comfortable…?”

Barrett let out a deep hissing sigh, “Hope barely says a word to me these days. The last time she has said this much was when I was trapped under those rocks. I do not like these restraints and I do not like you touching what’s mine… But Hope is actually talking to me for once.”

Hope looked down briefly as she thought about the situation, then at the hand around her, then up at Taevis before looking back down, “Well… a demidragon is strong enough that if you did lose your temper, you couldn’t hurt me…” She turned her eyes to meet Taevis’s, “Please don’t leave me alone with him…” 

Taevis nodded, “Well then, Hope… if you are confident enough in my protection, would you mind if I released his restraints before I lose feeling in my knees? I won’t leave, and I won’t set you down until you are ready.” Hope took some time to consider and nodded. Taevis gestured and released the magic restraining Barrett however hee tensed in preparation as Barrett sat up.“I recommend sitting near the lake, the cool water will ease the electrical burns.”

Barrett hesitated, his instincts to care for his wounds at war with his aversion to moving even a few steps further away from Hope. Finally the pain won and he knelt by the water to soak his wrist.

 Hope expressed a bit of surprise, “You burned Barrett?”she glanced back at his tail again. 

Taevis only glanced briefly at hope, keeping focused on Barrett, “So that’s his name? And yes. While my tail may have the fins of the oceanic dragons, I’m a mix of silver and oceanic..” -

Hope nodded as she thought over that explanation, “That explains the lightning. I’ve met silver dragons and demidragons before. Even had some visit my farm on occasion.” 

Taevis smiled slightly, “I heard some of my kind live around this continent, but I actually traveled here from quite far away, This is my first encounter with one of his kind” meaning syor, “I’d heard stories of these ‘evil giants that treat smaller races as food’. I thought it might be an exaggeration, but he has proven me wrong.” He turned to look at Barrett with a slight glare, “I now suspect you could tell I wasn’t threatening her and you were using ‘protection’ as an excuse to make a meal of me before you knew what I am. With that kind of behavior, I don’t blame her for fearing a change of heart!”

Barrett gave a snort, “You aren’t her. She’s special. She spent weeks saving my life, so I intend to protect her. You were a potential meal. Good meat ain’t always easy to find.”

Taevis thought for a moment as he calmed, “While I understand protecting those you care about, and getting a nice treat as a bonus… that doesn’t seem to be what you were actually doing. It is curious that you would act as if it was…I heard syor aren’t big on deception, and the only one you would be deceiving is Hope… meaning.”

Taevis waited to see if Barrett would continue and when he didn’t, “Meaning… you do care about not upsetting her enough to go against your normal straightforward nature.”

Barrett grumbled under his breath a bit. Clearly unhappy with the implication he was being dishonest in some way, but also not outright denying it. It was true that syor tended to be true to their word and not all that inclined to lie. Occasionally lying to give false hope to humans they caught, that he had done. But that’s not what Taevis was talking about. Protecting a human’s feelings was simply not done. “Still not happy about you touching Hope…”

Hope frowned, “I don’t see what the big deal is, he’s been very kind and friendly.”

Taevis rolled his eyes, “and Yet at you do seem happy that she is more open to talking. But perhaps you will be in a more amicable mood after having some food.”

Barrett gave a slight snort, “Well the bull moose I killed before I saw you is enough for me and Hope.”

This, for reasons Barrett couldn’t understand but Taevis could, angered Hope, “Wait, you were successful at hunting, but you still tried to eat a naga?” 

Barrett shrugged, “Bull moose is a meal for one day, naga is a meal for several.” 

Taevis glanced around the campsite, “I don’t see anything for you to prepare the moose… Where is your cooking fire?” 

Barrett rolled his eyes, “Why would I waste time cooking it? The only reason I didn’t eat it immediately was to see if Hope wanted some.”

Taevis pinched his nose, “You are saying that all these piles of supplies and you don’t even prepare proper meals for yourself? No wonder you are so scrawny and hungry.” He surveyed the piles, “Hope will never use the supplies before they go bad, so why not combine the moose with some veggies that are about to go bad and make something that will last both of us a couple days?”

Barrett was rather confused at the suggestion, “Mix the meat… with something else? You mean like the syorian do? I’m not a wimpy syorian. I don’t do that. I hunt like any proper syor.”

The look of astonishment on Taevis’ face made Barrett uncomfortable, and Taevis’ response didn’t help “You.. aren’t familiar with cooking…” he said with concern before grinning with all his teeth. A mouth full of vicious fangs. “Well I happen to be a very good cook. It will keep it from going bad and be much more filling.”

Hope piped up, “There’s a ton of metal cookware in the carts! If we combine all the metal we have we can make a great pan to cook with! Oh I would love to share some recipes! I wonder if they would turn out as good when done at such a large size…”

Barrett was taken aback by Hope’s boldness and excitement about the prospect of cooking yet he was still hesitant. He wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not, “You want me to do what syorians do with food…”

Taevis arched a brow as he looked at Barrett again, “Like demidragons do. Like many scaly dragons do. You aren’t saying your kind are better than dragons, are you?” he flashed his teeth again. 

Barrett frowned and looked away, not sure how to respond. Taevis stood. “I’m going to go find that dead moose. You keep soaking that hand. Hope seems to want to stay by me at the moment, but we will remain close, I can smell it is just beyond those trees.”

Barrett gave a slight snarl, “I don’t like you having my Hope… But she…” his words faltered so instead he growled, “Try to steal her and demidragon or not I will hunt you down.”

With a shrug of his wings Taevis turned to walk back into the woods, and hoped to have a private conversation with Hope before their return to the clearing, assuming the syor stayed by the lake to soak the burn. 

Picture | First | Previous | Next

[multiplicity-positivity]

hello!! do you guys know if there’s a good way to find out if we’re a really low communication or possibly monocon system VS if there’s just a mental barrier between front and headspace? im not sure if this is a good description but we don’t notice super distinct shifts but rather at any given moment to find out who’s fronting we go through a list of all our names and see which ones cause anxiety and which ones fit ok. our communication is abysmal and it feels like there’s a “wall” between whoever is at front and the rest of the system. do we just try and accept plurality until someone from the other side of the “wall” shows up? or are there ways to try and make everything run smoother? sorry this is kind of a lot!!! thank you! — las creaturas sys

this may be a bit more complex than we (a nonprofessional) can really help with. it may take some work with a therapist or even just some time spent focusing on self-reflection and discovering yourself in order to find these answers.

that being said, here’s some stuff we can say with confidence (more or less…):

1. all there is to being plural is being or existing as more than one. if you feel like you share others in your mind, that’s all it really takes to be plural. if the plural framework helps you and is useful for you, you’re welcome to use it, even if you have absolutely no contact with other members of your system.

2. the way that you describe figuring out who’s fronting reminds us of an article we read a while back by a did system. here it is -

maybe the way this system functions can provide a bit of insight into your own system, even if you don’t suspect having did or a dissociative disorder.

3. as far as we understand, headspaces are imagined places created by visualizing something in your mind. we wrote a post about headspaces here:

not all systems actively had to create their headspaces, but for the majority of them, this is true. our own headspace was created through conscious choices made by members of our system. however, our host also struggles to access our headspace. we’re not quite sure why this is. as far as we know, dissociative barriers work by blocking off traumatized alters and trauma memories from the alters who handle day-to-day functioning. we’re not sure if being blocked or cut off from the headspace is a dissociative barrier thing.

4. when first discovering a system, establishing contact with other alters can be ridiculously difficult. especially if you have high dissociative barriers, or system members who are heavily in denial or can’t accept that they’re part of a system. however, we firmly believe that with practice and patience, internal communication can improve with time! our system used to be a huge mess in this regard, but at this point we can communicate with each other decently. it’s still a work in progress, but after 2 years of parts work in therapy and lots and lots of time spent focusing on trying to get in touch with each other, we’re in a much better place and find communication much easier to manage.

we have a post with some basics on establishing contact with headmates. it’s designed for folks with dissociative disorders (as that is our experience), but it may be useful for any kind of system. here it is:

…and that’s pretty much all we can say here. if you’re questioning whether or not you’re monoconscious, perhaps try scrolling though @monoconsciouscultureis to see what sort of experiences systems often submit there, and find out if their experiences align with yours. other than that, we don’t really know what else to say that might be useful.

sorry if this post is all over the place or doesn’t make much sense. we’re wishing you luck with figuring this out. remember, with practice, patience, and persistence, you probably can achieve better communication or at least a better understanding within your system. sending you our best!

🐢 kip and 🌸 margo

[gren-arlio]

CAUTION: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CRIMINAL?

(Image made by @kirstenonic05. Huge help on this, so thank you.)

Hello, one and all, it's Gren here. Today is Witch's birthday as well as Halloween, and to celebrate such a momentous occasion for the girl who appears in oh so many of my posts, I'm gonna to do two things besides say happy birthday to her.

An in-depth look on what The Witch has committed, her devious crimes.

How to handle/deal with/tolerate her if you're a random person, or you're a special guy.

Possible prosecution of her. Keyword "Possible".

I basically became Schezo's Private Investigator for a solid few months and today, I'm here to drop it all out for the press to see. Puyo fans are gonna be in shambles tonight.

This will be a detailed tutorial on what happens if you see The Witch, how to deal with her, and what happens if she approaches you. Hope you enjoy this overly elaborate shitpost.

-----

What IS The Witch?

For those blissfully unaware, The Witch is a wanted criminal, a young 15 year old felon who often resides in the realms of Madou Monogatari and Puyo Puyo, owned formerly by COMPILE, now by SEGA.

(A rough draft of what the suspect looks like. Be careful. Actual draft of her from Madou Monogatari Saturn.)

She seems harmless, but that's how she gets you. Never trust teenage girls who can brew potions, I learned that the hard way.

Commonly, she's a blonde haired, blue eye teenage girl, about 5'2 (158 CM) and 99 pounds (45KG), seen with a blue robe with tints of white and red, a blue hat and some of the worst shoe game I've ever seen.

However, she has been seen in a green robe with a red amulet, a steampunk outfit, and even cosplay as either Arale Norimaki from Dr. Slump, a literal cat, and Emilia from Re:Zero. (Besides the cat one, all really good alts in Quest design wise and Puyo-N just has good designs.)

(Video recording of The Witch cooking something malevolent)

-----

What? Crimes?

You heard me right good folks, as the guy who has documented her misdeeds for weeks on end, (AKA I've been casually researching other games and she appears,) I have found many of her criminal acts, some worse than others, and some shit I definitely made up. Here are a few cases, some of which are somewhat stretching the definition, but it's alright:

Attempted Murder:

Most notably committed in Madou Monogatari Saturn, where whilst getting kidnapped by Incubus, she absolutely torched the man. Could claim self defense but still.

Harassment:

Mostly to Schezo, when you stretch the definition long enough, it can be considered verbal harassment. If you count 4Komas and Compile Club Underground Edition, visual harassment is...certainly on the table.

(Attempted) Petty Theft:

More notable in Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, where she tries many-a-times to get Schezo's robes, even threatening assault if he didn't.

Assault:

Threatened Schezo with it for his clothes in Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, saying she'll rip them off.

You may ask, "Aren't Puyo matches assault cases?" And to that, I say...no. Usually, it's a joint agreement. The same goes for Waku Puyo, it's part of the attraction itself, the person somewhat signed up for it. However, I don't think personally trying to rip someone's clothes was part of the rules.

Drugging:

Most noticeable in the Tottemo Puyo Puyo Manga, where she drugged Arle with a love potion to make her fall in love with them, but it failed. Badly.

(Not many people know this one too much, so I thought I'd show the time where the crime occurred.)

Possession/Distribution of Alcohol to and as a Minor:

In Puyo 20th Anniversary, she just so happened to have something that made our boy Klug feel a tad unwise. Apparently happened to Lagnus too in Quest, but we're unsure, since it came from a 2nd source.

(Also, I know she didn't mean to give Klug it, but...why did she have it anyways?)

Crimes Against Schezo Wegey:

Along with almost every crime here, during the run of Compile, she's committed the worst one of them all: Being a Simp.

Easily the most notable for me, In Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, she's normal to almost everyone else (she has beef with Rulue for some reason,) but the minute Schezo is in a 2 mile radius, she "forgets" to take her normal pills.

(Image recording of her harassing Mr. Wegey. She's just saying "it" looks super cool, leaving Schezo confused on whatever she meant, and yes. It's about his clothes.)

Second most notable (for me) is PuyoLympics, where the SECOND he takes off his robe to show the uniform he got, she starts acting a little unwise, to put it bluntly.

(Prelude image seconds before The Witch commits her worst crime yet. Being a Simp. Also the NicoNico video I saw for this had some of the most down bad dudes ever, don't become them please)

We also must speak about her acting unwise when she saw Madou Saturn Schezo, asking to touch the man.

And how could we forget when she got possessed by Marle, who totally gave her back her Madou conscious after laying dormant for God knows how many years and began her quest of simping yet again?

Saying submit to me, saying that she doesn't know why she feels so desperate for him all of a sudden, and then prolongs the word fun? Marle was scheming that day...

(First off, somehow I got this with both her eyes closed. Didn't expect that. Second, why does it look like Schezo is grabbing his own name box?)

We can forgive many of her crimes. But we can't forgive this crime specifically.

-----

What Do You Do When You See The Witch?

Now, most likely, you'd want to report her to the feds, the police if you will. But her world doesn't have police somehow, and that's rough buddy. However, The Witch is a very social person, and might want to talk to you.

This will be a step by step guide on what to do if you're a normal person near The Witch or if you're Schezo. Gotta look out for everyone.

However, for all:

The Witch is incredibly dangerous, and unless you're a relative, odds are, something malicious WILL be brewing.

Willingly going near her is dangerous as well, but if you live for danger, ignore this section.

For the Everyday Guy:

Keep your distance. The easiest thing to do, thankfully. If you don't approach her, odds are, she won't interact with you unless she wants something.

Don't own a Meteor Grimoire. She can sense that.

If she decides to go near you, do not panic, nor run yet. She has magic, you don't most likely, so unless you want a fireball or a Meteor hitting you, don't run.

Keep the talk short and brief. Prolonged exposure can be detrimental to your health in the long run.

If she asks for something, there's two ways to go around it. You can either give it to her quickly, or be the innocent victim of her next robbery/crime.

Don't try anything she gives you. Ever.

This is a split path. If she tries to take something from you, you can either choose to finally run or fight. Thankfully, she's pretty average at Puyo, so a good player can fend her off.

If everything goes well, she will leave you alone. And if you run, she probably won't chase you that much since you're just kinda a random dude to her.

For Schezo Wegey: (Or People in a Similar Scenario)

Before you even go out, don't wear cool-looking robes.

Don't own a Meteor Grimoire. She will sense that, especially if you're Schezo.

Same with the everyday man, keep your distance. If she spots you, it's absolutely over. Schezover, even.

If she spots you, everything changes now from the everyday man. She wants to approach you, she wants you...r items, or actually legit you. Don't show visible panic. Pretend she's not coming.

There's no shot you're going to be able to keep conversations short, she probably knows that you're trying to leave fast. However, try to keep your responses short enough, but not short to the point that she catches on.

If she asks for You, do NOT panic externally, which is easier said than done. Try to ask to elaborate. If she doesn't, you're fucked. If she does, give the thing to her...unless it's your clothes.

If you run, she's will very much chase you. There's several pieces of evidence for that, and unless you can run 100 meters in maybe 12 seconds, she will catch up to you with her broom. Even then, stamina issues for people, and she flies. Don't risk it unless you're absolutely confident.

This is a situation where you want her to leave first. If you noticed with some of the times Schezo gets harassed, she tended to leave first (Puyo 20th, Waku Puyo,) while in some cases, Schezo got out first (Madou Saturn, PuyoLympics but that went poorly), so try to make her leave first by doing...God know what.

If she tries to fight you, fight back. Self-defense is always good, and if you're Schezo or have a body similar to his, odds are her Meteor will hit you, but you'll survive. He's survived worse, you probably can too.

If everything goes well, you're free. Least for a little longer.

If you lose the fight, and everything else failed, FUCKING RUN. If Schezo can do it upon losing to her in Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, you can too. Probably. Maybe.

Proof you can probably survive a Meteor:

(The Witch uses her spell...for 66 damage.)

-----

Let's Say, Theoretically, She Gets Arrested. What Happens?

(Old image my girlfriend made years ago. Little did we know how it'd end.)

Prosecuting her will very much be a challenge because simply put, there's no damn police in Madou/Primp. Well, good ones at least.

For you see, there ARE police in Primp or Madou as a whole. But in Quest, there's police in Intral City, the place Atari's from, but unfortunately, even in there, they don't exactly do much.

Call up Miles Edgeworth and teleport him here, then we got a shot, or even some other stupid good lawyer.

I'm no Laywer, but I think she'd go to jail for her crimes.

-----

Conclusion:

The Witch is a very dangerous felon. Armed and Dangerous, it's best to stay as far away as possible, especially if your name is Schezo Wegey or occasionally Arle Nadja. If you see her...well, you have the steps, or you can say fuck it and ball. Your choice.

-----

And Now, Actual Updates:

I enjoyed writing this, it was fun. With this, I'll repeat myself from last posts.

I'll be taking a 2 week break from this. I'm experiencing minor burnout and I do need a break, I've been doing this consistently for a couple of months now.

I'll also be taking a break during Thanksgiving week, Christmas, and New Years week as well to spend time with family.

Thank you all for your support, it means an absolute ton to me and I'm grateful I have people who actually love my work. Hell, I've even made a few new friends from this, and I couldn't be any happier with the progress I made.

I began this stuff on the notion that no one will read these, but it'd be better to document these sorta things just for fun. Little did I know, a little over 35 followers later, that people would enjoy what I made and the info I share, even if some of it is... somewhat peculiar. The support I've gotten from the community is unreal, and it's genuinely appreciated that you guys care so much. Even you reading this means a lot to me.

Thanks guys. Happy Halloween. Hope you enjoyed the show.

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

Shuichi's Sudden Coronation (saiouma prompt)

First shared in The Saiouma Pit discord server, parts said by others start with their names

Winter: How do yall think shuichi would handle suddenly becoming royalty?

I think "suddenly" rules out inheritance unless it's a long-lost prince scenario in which case he has more on his plate than that

Kai (thelemoncoffee): I mean, suddenly can mean he was distant enough to not have any duties or be considered royalty by the public, but then something happens that thrusts him into the royal line and he has one hell of a time

and if it was marriage he would know what he was getting into… probably if the royalty he married was Kokichi then who knows

Kai: i think i actually have an old au like that where Kokichi is royalty but he hides his identiy to go hang out in a public school with the common folk. between his passion for petty crime and the lack of talking about family, not only does he sell his act, but he does so so well some people even suspect he's an orphan. Shuichi falls for him having not a mcfucking clue he's royal i mean, he's sus of Kokichi's peculiar behavior but he doesn't jump to fucking royal

actually, are we talking modern royalty or old-timey/fantasy royalty?

Kai: that also changes alot yeah i think modern would create a much bigger panic attack on the account of news media coverage

and it'd be much easier to hide being some cousin of a royal family tbh

omg, but think like, late 19th/early 20th century final era of many other royalties but not fucking dark ages

it would have actually mattered, very real possibility of ending up on the throne in that case

and there are trains, lots of possibilities with that

Shuichi sees himself in a newspaper under a bold title "SCANDAL: The prince eloped with a common man" and dies on the spot, right in front of the orphan paperboy (the boy isn't phased, dw)

alternatively

Winter: Say a weird cursed crown thing he finds So i was thinking in a sort of medieval/fantasy setting Shuichi finds the crown and ends up as royalty without meaning to The crown would be cursed to bring him ruin as well so Would he purposely keep the crown to help people Or would he not and prefer to ditch

Vespertin-y: he's gotta be either like…the fifth second cousin of a duke and the country fell apart so badly he's the only one left qualified for the throne, or he picked up some random ancient artifact and now the entire royal court is PISSED that this random kid now outranks them

not necessarily, if they see him as a chosen one/ it was purposefully left to fate since nobody wanted the curse what comes with it I imagine they would either love to have him or be really secretive with their dislike for him

lying to him, but with the purpose of convincing him it's all great so he doesn't think to make a run for it

as for Shuichi himself, I think he'd be really going through it on the inside, but on the outside he'd be like really determined to try to change fate, doing his best, doubting himself all the way through but he just has to do it,

anyone who has seen him not be in public knows he's crumpling the moment he's in a private setting, and they (okay, only some of them) are like, "maybe you should take your chance to leave", but he's like "that's just life and I could never make someone else do this"

Ves: oughogh yeah…if he's not taking The Burden onto himself is he really shuichi

We didn't get to saiou-ing that one in the Pit, but consider already established saiou and Shuichi's new advisors trying to get Shuichi to ditch Kokichi and get into a political marriage or at least find someone of high-class status

or classic jester or bodyguard but with the added pressure of the castle being a pit of vipers and Shuichi being desperate to connect with someone who Is Not A Noble and is capable of having a casual conversation with him

or equally classic Arranged Marriage but it works out for them this time

[soup-14]

Dutch Van Der Linde x gn!Reader

Summary: You and the boys go on a job in Saint Denis and end up hiding from the law.

Warnings: smoking, violence, mild cursing, Dutch mentioning mangoes.

“Trelawny got a tip about some sort of secret operation. It's in the basement of a saloon, in Saint Denis.” You say leaning up against the post of Dutch’s tent. “Said it should be easy. Sneak in the back door, down the stairs, quietly take out any threats, grab the cash, sneak back out, split up.”

Dutch stands from his chair and pulls a cigar from a small box on his shelf. He holds it in his teeth and reaches for his matchbox. He opens it only to find it empty, he growls and tosses it aside.

He turns back towards you, a scowl now set on his brow, only to be met with a lit match held out to him. He shields the cigar and leans towards the match in your fingers. Once lit you shake out the flame and toss the old match into the grass. Dutch removes the cigar from his teeth and blows out a puff of thick smoke. “It sounds too easy. Could be a setup, who told him about it?”

You shrug. “Josiah’s got strange connections you know that.”

Dutch hums and steps out of his tent. “Let’s see what Hosea has to say.” He walks to one of the large wooden tables and leans over the map splayed out on its surface.

Hosea sits in a wooden chair at the table already examining the map. “What have you got for us now Dutch?” He asks.

“I would say ask Trelawny but he’s already disappeared again.”

“As he does.”

“So what do you think?”

“I think it’s worth a shot, bring with you some… quieter folk and I think you could get it done.”

“Alright then. I say we hit it Sunday morning, when business is slower, all them fancy folk will be in church.”

Come early Sunday morning, Dutch, Arthur, Javier and yourself mount up. All of you dressed in slightly more cleaned up clothes. The ride to Saint Denis is short, and soon your posse rides through its golden gates.

There are people out on the streets, stages and wagons a plenty, but as Dutch suspected most folks were headed toward various churches around the city. The perfect way to distract from you and your boys.

You ride slow and casual through the streets, leading the way to the cash. You decide to hitch your horses at the end of the block and head through the alley on foot.

Once reaching the back door of the saloon, you try the handle, locked.

“Here let me.” Javier pulls a lock pick from his coat and swiftly gets the door open, which squeaks lightly as it opens. You all cringe at the sound and Arthur hurries inside making sure the way is clear. He gives the signal and the rest of you tiptoe inside. You draw your throwing knifes and creep down the cellar stairs.

Around the corner you can see three men sitting around a table, two towards the back and one on a couch with a woman. Lemoyne Raiders, and they all have guns.

You look at Dutch letting him make the first move. He draws a throwing knife and signals to take out the men at the table, for Arthur to take the two in back and Javier the others.

He counts three… two… one… on his fingers, then hell breaks loose.

You throw two knifes quick, killing two men at the table. Dutch gets the third between the eyes. Arthur and Javier rush the others. Javier kills his man just fine but the lady is screaming and he doesn’t know if he should kill her or not, he decides to let her go. Arthur is able to get one of his guys with a knife in the neck but the other had just enough time to draw his gun.

The shot goes off splitting the previous silence in the room. The bullet nearly misses Arthur and lodges itself into the war wall. Arthur draws his cattleman fast and shoots him a few times in the gut. “Goddamn it.” He curses. “The law will have heard that.”

“You’re right,” says Dutch “we have to move quick, where the money?”

The four of you rumage through the room stashing whatever valuables you can find. Pocket watches, some jewelry, $15, crackers, cigarettes…

“Aha.” Dutch exclaims from across the room. “This should be it.” Dutch heaves a huge lockbox onto the table and fiddles with the lock. “Javier, would you be so kind?” Javier reaches for his lock pick again.

Once the lock clicks free he opens the lid to reveal large wads of the sweet green you were looking for. Each of you takes a couple stacks in your satchels, hurry back upstairs, and out the back door.

“We split up from here.” Says Dutch “conceal the money, stay out of sight, don’t head straight back to camp.”

You all nod in response and go your separate ways.

The sound of lawmen shouting and blowing their whistles echos across Saint Denis. You keep close to the shadows and try to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. You turn down a dark alleyway, trying to keep your path untraceable. You hold up against a wall, taking a short break, waiting for the lawmen to settle down.

You continue down the winding alley and around a corner, keeping your gun tight in your hand. You turn your back for less than a second when the sound of a gun being cocked behind you.

Your heart stops in your chest and your breath hitches. “Stick em up.” says the perpetrator. You know that voice, Dutch. You place your gun in its holster and raise your hands slowly, turning towards him. “Now Dutch, you wouldn’t shoot me would you?”

A breath escapes his lips as your face comes into view. "My Dear." Dutch quickly holsters his gun and steps towards you. Hands still raised you walk to him and drape your arms over his shoulders. He places his large hands on your waist and pulls your body to his.

"Gave me quite a fright there Darlin'." Says Dutch.

"I knew it was you, Dutch. Only one mans gotta voice like that."

Dutch chuckles deeply and places a firm kiss on your lips. "Are you alright?" He asks once pulling away.

"Of course. You?"

"More than that. We've just got a decent score My Love, I can smell the mangoes from here."

"I sure damn hope so Van Der Linde." You laugh. "Now let's get outa here while we can."

"Agreed." Dutch pulls you in for another kiss, then grabs your hands and leads you through the alley.

AN: Thanks for reading. I didn't know how to end this one lmao.