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rafent · 2 years ago

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◜ ₊ — 𝓡 ˚ ₊ ❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄.

When he arrives he sits, and when he sits his chair becomes his throne.

The irreverent perch of his elbow over the armrest claims ownership, his pale fingertips touch coolly to his temple with an intense flick of ruby eyes toward the interviewer. With these arresting motions his intimidating presence bears volume per intention, or per nature. It was all just as well. No longer disguised in Nil’s timidity, the minor prince of Gradlon- the once misguided successor of Sombron- can show himself for who he is and there are no secrets that he intends to hide.

Not this time.

Now, the unmaker of one world has come to the doorstep of another, garbed in his newfound power; so thickly intertwined with it there were few illusions toward the strength lurking in his body even when it was at rest. Tucked beneath his clothes, the dragonstone hung on a cord emanates with miasmic energy across his thin, scarred chest. Everyday humans were sensitive to supernatural sensors as the one before him went to prove, with a silence that dragged on several mites overlong.

Rafal closed his eyes with impatience at the admission officer’s fidgeting, his too-loud pen scratching in the midst of some nervous tic or another. Seeing this display, the empathetic Nil would have kindly addressed their fears- the ideal of him that he remembers, anyways. However, Nil is the petals and Rafal the thorns, though borne from the same stalk, it is nevertheless the sharper things that prevail; the living ones.

For a thousand years now he has not taken the name or personality of that long-dead friend, that kindly younger brother. Which is all to say, there is no need to engage in the farce of kindness any longer. So he summons for the man’s noise, commands it, without so much as a sliver of a glance in his direction.

“...You’re to gain a better read of my character, are you not? Then begin your work at once. I am here for neither chatter nor silence. You will find me a less pleasant man when subject to either of these things.”

The effect is amusingly quick, an undelayed correlation between human fear and a force to fear. Rafal hides his pleasure in a smirk. “O-Of course! Ahem. Right away then, Lord Rafal…” the interviewer all but yelps, straightening, then at last stuttering his first question into the air.

“Well, then! Erm. W-What has led you to where you are today?”

At last. He opens his eyes. Where others might waver before the conundrum of how or where to begin a long tale, his own initiation is expressed with something akin to confidence. Not that his words were rehearsed, not that it was a tale he loved specially to recount to others, but that there was simply no other way to start.

“The life of a weakling, I suppose,” his low drawl then rumbles, prideful and self-deprecating all at once. In that contradiction is only his honesty. Rafal honors no sense of mystery toward his past, if he lies the truth will present itself regardless, and neither his wicked sins nor his ignoble beginnings are worth hiding.

“...Though, I don’t expect people to understand it.”

There was no search for pity in the statement his neutral gaze expressed. It was tied only to a crime weightier than any murderer or tyrant could know- the undeniable fact that Rafal was responsible for a world that sat in so many shattered pieces. For the ocean of its graves, the barren fields and the crushed flowers that would never again bloom, the tears wept by its estranged people left without rulers and without hope.

Such faults could not be excused in this lifetime, even if the effects of a cruel and desolate world had already been veritably experienced, well, elsewhere:

“Sombron prized ability beyond any other ideal. If his children were not strong- if they could not transform, or they had no talent to call their own- they were not useful. If they were not useful, they were judged failures. Defects to be culled, whose empty spaces would be filled and easily replaced in turn. Such was his way. Our way.”

So often did Rafal see this reality. He had very well nearly lived it, after all, if not for the strange twist of fate that handed to him an ability, a livelihood and lifeline, to awaken the emblems dwelling in seven bracelets equal and opposite to a sister who was not his full-blooded twin.

His tale continues without missing a beat. “In the unfortunate circumstances of my existence- weakness greater than most others of my kind- I concealed my only talent and sought to rectify my miseries. I was successful. Power, though it came at the great cost of a world, and nearly a sister, is now mine.”

Two great costs that could be deemed regrettable, in the end, but it is not the attainment of power itself that he regrets.

If there had been another way to achieve his ends, he would find himself in a lifelong chase for that invisible treasure again. Eating his own tail if he had to, burning the bridges that connect him to others on a solitary journey so long as the same pyres did not pile high before him. If one thing could be changed, perhaps it would be to remain a brother throughout it all; without a hitch or a stutter, without either a hundred mistakes or their resolution of a thousand years.

…This time from utmost beginning to utmost end.

The image of her sits in his mind, cooler than ice but warmer than anything. His heart stings with the memory of his scar- the pale face of a twin that felt worse- shattered by her love, the old Rafal had died in a shock of blighted stone; saved by that love, too, a new one stood before this monastery freshly ignited. A passive inferno without the evil propensities it once possessed, one might say he could be repurposed for good, but to Rafal that very good was only penitence. And his way of penitence was over all simple:

A wayward flame burned everything. That flame repented by burning itself out.

”It was Sombron, my father, who suggested I become his heir, who laid the first stone of the path that I walked.” The fingertips rested against the side of his face slide down, turning to white-knuckled stone upon his cheek. “...But I allowed that future to become reality. My actions are mine. I have led to where I am—I have led to other’s pain! For that I will take responsibility.”

The answer unnerves the interviewer for its sudden and perhaps unrelatable intensity. But no man’s comfort is worth dulling a knife, and certainly not Rafal who has found himself so clear-minded after centuries of being subservient to a hex. In front of him, the fast moving pens stills for a moment, no longer a blur.

“U-Um.. Alright… What do you believe are your greatest strengths? Your greatest weaknesses?

His laughter is startling, enough to rouse the man before him nearly to flight. With a sound that fills the shallow barrel of his chest, Rafal gives an ugly laugh. His shoulders hike up with the motion, a strand of his hair, bone-white, curls into his mouth. He swipes it away- as close to a tear pricking the eye of this Fell Dragon as things will come.

“Hah! After I’ve gone and told you my history, isn’t it obvious? I’m strong now. Powerful beyond any comparison to another. The strength I have attained can be used for any end that I wish! My time at this human academy will give it direction. For that your kind should be grateful.”

The pride and abrasive remarks that Rafal wields are his true state of being, after them comes his even truer reflection. He faces the other with his weighted frown, heavy with the somber reminder of his faults.

“My weakness is that I… can only hurt. I have hurt people, done unspeakable things to them and thrown away countless bonds in the name of power. You could call it the behavior of a most sorry fool. Unlike the Divine One, unlike my sister, I cannot see the hearts of others. I cannot treat them kindly, not that I ever have.”

Weakness is an old enemy that he cannot entirely cast off even with his new tools. Rafal is powerful and so deemed perfect by Gradlon law- however late that triumph comes- but imperfections still plainly exist if he is here. If once he was coal, now he is a pressed diamond riddled with cloudy inclusions, and he is unclear in more ways than one. The existence that presents himself with the difference of power- a dragonstone where he once had none, who hammered down ruin upon the world of his birth, eager even to splinter himself off from his only kin for his ambitions, what sort of man is he? What does he intend to do here with the dirty strength he has seized?

He knows this is their greatest question but another one comes to light.

“If a story were to be written about your life, what role would you play?” he’s asked in a notable tone of finality, that says this of all inquiries will be the last. And to the indomitable Rafal perhaps such a question is his master; his prideful gloom falls silent, for too long, and for too deeply, until—

“The martyr; the one who offers himself for something or someone else. If I can suffer a death meant for another… if I can stamp upon this life some greater mark of compassion… I could purge its mistakes,” he says upon an answer, spoken as calmly as if it were the truth. Maybe because to him it was.

A self-defined truth stripped of all pretension and pride, dragged up from its very roots amongst his innermost desires; second only to power, there existed no search of his greater than the one for redemption, and in that regard Rafal could see his quest ending in only one single way. A dead and forgotten man in the name of peace, bleeding out with the stain of his sins. Undoing all that he’d ever undone.

It was less a tragedy and more the natural fate that Rafal anticipated, like the human men that set their sights coolly upon a distant death born of failing organs and weak bones. After filling his lifetime with deeds of the Divine One’s approval, a day would come where he would usher in one more act- be swept into it, unable to stop it.

The unfairness of life ended on terms beyond control, without the luxury of loving or being loved in turn, such was only inevitable for Rafal. Such was only right. Even if Nel did not understand, even if his twin did not agree- as she sorely wouldn’t- it was this sinner’s own way. For his decided story to come to fruition, wouldn’t that be just…

But he has been left alone with his thoughts and suddenly it is no longer a conversation between two people. Rafal looks up not to a sound but to a silence, loud and thoughtful and— “Out with it,” he spits perceptively at the interviewer. “You look ridiculous, staring at me with that loony smile.”

The writing utensil is placed upon its rest, like Rafal’s final answer has damned him to a judgment or to something. That something Rafal did not know.

“I had my suspicions, milord. Harsh and ornery, but with an imagined role like that… you’re really a good person on the inside, aren’t you? You care not merely for yourself, but for others—”

“Silence. Need I remind you again of the blood on my hands? You’ve the wrong measure of me, you fool! I am not…” But that protest starts and ends meaningless, the venom in his voice not nearly as moving as the honest words he’d shed on his day.

Professor.

Deemed miraculously fit for a role spent chipping away at scores and tending to children, Rafal’s wings itched to show them differently, his jaw clenched and unclenched- stricken by the slow inching desire to smelt down the monastery’s millennial wood and marble with his breath- as he left the room with a mound of papers saddling his hands. But that ambition, as it turned out, did not come to pass. Not in the least.

More rather, the fearsome length of a serpent was nowhere seen no matter how passionately (harmlessly) it was promised. Only his man-shaped shadow would greet the eye, tucked away in a threadbare office deemed his own, lighting a room aflame only in his curses. A slave to laboring civilization in ways never found before, Rafal rained hatred upon the difficulties of formal language that demanded of him a written signature, an admission of academic duty above it, and one too many things.

Why had he been roped into such a role? Why had they judged him worthy of greater purpose when he’d offered interest only in a salary earned on his fang and steel? Once, twice, a hundred times in his head, he turned this curiosity over and over; but to chance the question aloud a single time at the door, the words in the admission officer’s opinion were disbelievingly simple. Incredulously so, to where he looked at Rafal as if he were a snake with eight sprouted heads:

“Isn’t it obvious? You, yourself, spoke of defining your life by compassion, Lord Rafal—”

And you needn’t wait for death to do it.

#◜ ₊ — 𝓡 ˚ ₊ 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ╱ drabble.#engage spoilers #with the only disclaimer being that it's 2k+ words :'^)#here's rafal's app and more or less the foundation of his toa journey #obviously redemption is the name of the game #figured the turnover of a selfless nurturing role as opposed to a selfish destroying role was A Way to go about it #how that will pan out with the hounds here ( looks away )

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ruppertmundysrevival · 5 months ago

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Sixième partie | 17 juin 2024

LA PARTIE LA PLUS LONGUE. par Thibodeau.

L’humidité pesait lourd, mais l’atmosphère était légère sur le terrain #2 du parc Laurier, en ce très chaud lundi 17 juin 2024, date où la réalité du soleil devint pour un soir, la réalité du solstice.

Du latin solsticium (Sol – soleil, Sistere – s’arrêter), l’étymologie de cette réalité nous propose l’image poétique d’un soleil figé dans le ciel, pour l’éternité.

Cette soirée sans fin s’amorça ainsi sous une aura générale d’invincibilité. Comme si les dieux de la balle allaient nous donner congé, le temps d’une partie, de l’implacable réalité du temps qui passe. Exceptionnellement, le soleil ne disparaîtrait derrière les cheminées de l’incinérateur Des Carrières qu’à 20h44. Aussi bien dire que nous avions la vie devant nous. Ainsi, personne ne semblait pressé d’aller chercher son gant après le traditionnel tirage de mites. Poulin et Thibodeau, d’ordinaire furieux ennemis, semblaient même cabotiner durant l’habituel jeu d’adresse où les capitaines font à tour de rôle d’étranges manipulations sur un bâton lancé pour déterminer l’équipe qui va commencer dans le champ. Deux vieux camarades, unis devant l’immortalité du moment.

Mais il fallait bien s’affronter, parce que c’est comme ça. À condition, bien sûr, d’avoir une protection solaire adéquate, comme nous le rappela par l’exemple le duo Talbi & Bessette. Complices de cœur, mais également de crème solaire, le power couple se présentèrent à leurs équipes sous une généreuse couche de FPS 50+ résistante à l’eau, dans un hommage bien senti au maquillage d’un autre célèbre duo, celui de Sol et Gobelet. Sol, comme dans Soleil, bien sûr.

Il était 18h15, toute était dans toute et la soirée s’annonçait au boute. Alors question de faire de cette joute une joute RMR, il fut décidé d’un commun accord de semer la discorde dans ce qui s’annonçait un peu trop comme une partie de plaisir. Devant le résultat du flip de mites, on s’est alors mis à se crier des bêtises :

- Ça n’a pas de bon sens, les Martres vous êtes ben trop fortes !

- Ouin, on n’arrivera jamais à vous battre, et ça va nous rappeler toutes les dernières finales !

- Si vous ne nous donnez pas votre meilleur joueur, on va être obligé de Ninabandonner!

- Bon ok, faites l’échange qui vous semble le plus juste, et lets’go ! On va manger vos. ZENFANTS !

On racheta alors les contrats de Lepage et Bourgon, qui furent échangés vers leurs équipes naturelles. Il était 18h22, et nous allions enfin pouvoir commencer ce qui s’annonçait clairement comme LA PARTIE LA PLUS LONGUE DE TOUTE L’HISTOIRE DE LA RMR.

La première manche vit les Martres prendre quelques points d’avance sur les Ninas, et puisque nous avions la vie devant nous, il fut convenu à 18h31 de tout arrêter pour se crier de nouvelles bêtises :

- Ça n’a pas de bon sens, les Martres vous êtes encore ben trop fortes!

- Ouin, nos joueurs sont placés à des positions qui les sortent vraiment de leur zone de confort.

- On ne peut pas jouer à la hauteur de nos standards!

- Si vous ne nous donnez pas votre autre meilleur joueur, on va être en Ninasimonaque!

- Bon ok, faites l’échange qui vous semble le plus juste, et let’s go! On va manger vos. ZENFANTS !

Une offre d’échange hostile fut alors proposée à Leroy et Nonveiller, et l’un prit la place de l’autre alors que l’autre prit la place de l’un. Il était 18h48, il faisait chaud, le soleil était encore au point haut, et la 2e manche débutait tout juste avec ce qui était déjà la 3e version d’alignement de chaque équipe.

Le reste de la partie fut une classe de maître. Poulin, X Raymond, Bessette et Roussin-Plourde lancèrent des prises à tour de rôle. La défensive était hermétique de part et d’autre, et les deux équipes donnèrent un excellent spectacle au nombreux public français venu d’outre-mer pour assister à cette interminable partie qui allait marquer l’histoire. Bien que timides au bâton, les Martres s’illustrèrent en réalisant trois doubles jeux en défense. De leur côté, les Nina Simone de Beauvoir confirmèrent leur gentillesse en offrant le bénéfice du doute aux verts sur plusieurs jeux serrés. On accorda même à plus d’une reprise des lancers supplémentaires aux joueurs recrus des Martres, question de leur permettre d’absorber les quelques conseils pratiques de base qu’on leur lança :

- Lève ton coude!

- Tourne les hanches!

- Oui c’est ça, il faut que tu tournes ton coude en levant les hanches !

- Fâche-toi le bassin!

- Aligne tes doigts!

- Non, pas tes doigts, ces jointures-là avec ces jointures-là, regarde ici!

- Regarde pas ici voyons, regarde la balle en frappant dans l’axe du solstice d’été !

On arriva ainsi en bas de tableau à 21h41 et le plaisir sous le soleil était tel qu’il y eut consensus à jouer une manche supplémentaire. Le niveau d’hydratation de chacun fut évalué, et le comité de sécurité de la RMR autorisa que la partie dépasse sa limite habituelle de sept manches.

Opportunistes, les Martres profitèrent de cette 8e manche tombée des dieux pour créer l’égalité à 22h16. Une 9e manche allait être nécessaire pour départager le sort des deux équipes réunies sous le soleil d’une réalité éternelle. Il était minuit moins une lorsque les Ninas se sauvèrent finalement avec la victoire, aidés par de nombreux jeux défensifs réalisés par le duo Lepage & Leroy, dont les infâmes transactions en début de partie allaient hanter le sommeil des Martres durant toute la nuit suivante. Cette nuit qui, heureusement pour les mustélidés, allait être la plus courte de cette 13e saison de la RMR, mais ceci est une autre histoire.

Nos archivistes ne peuvent aujourd’hui confirmer s’il s’agit bel et bien de la partie la plus longue jamais enregistrée aux annales de la RMR. Mais en voyant le sourire général sur le visage des joueuses et joueurs qui se firent à 1h28 la poignée de main finale sous les « c’était le fun ! » et « quelle belle partie ! », nous pouvons assurément dire que sur le thermomètre du plaisir, le mercure battait des records.

- Thibodeau

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oktobersoddessy-blog · 2 years ago

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Meet Holly (fundraiser-not for sale).

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bogleech · 3 years ago

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LONG POST: (Re)Designing a Solifugid Monster: Step by Step

(Kickstarter crosspost)

Following from my more detailed post about my setting’s human-arthropod hybrids, this was my previous take on the fusion of a human with a Solifugid,or what some people know as a "camel spider." Its design is over sixteen years old now, which I suppose makes it a classic, but all I originally did here was draw a slightly weird camel spider and give it a few humanoid hands. That isn't nearly up to over a decade and a half of my standards evolving, so what we're going to do today is just completely disregard it and reinvent this creature from the ground up, demonstrating every single step I go through to turn a real-world arthropod into a monster design.

FIRST: WHAT ACTUALLY IS EVEN A SOLIFUGID???

(source)

A solifugid is an arachnid sometimes known as a camel spider, sometimes a sun spider, sometimes a "wind scorpion," but isn't really any kind of spider or scorpion. It's actually more related to ticks and mites than anything else!

It's a predator built for extreme speed, both in terms of pursuing and actually eating its prey: not only can it run like lightning, but its chelicerae - the same appendages as a spider's fangs - are built like a pair of gigantic, muscle-packed shears that can shred through a hapless beetle, tarantula or lizard in just seconds.

A solifugid also looks at first like it has ten legs, rather than eight, but the frontmost pair of "legs" are actually its highly elongated palps. These are the same appendages as a scorpion's claws, but the solifugid's palps are covered in sensitive hairs that aid in navigation, and they end in retractable, sticky "suctorial organs" that stick firmly to prey like a chameleon's tongue or a gecko's toes, reeling them straight into that terrifying mouth.

(source)

So the key biological characteristics of a Solifugid are the crushing jaws, impressive running speed, and suction-cup grabbers, all pretty easy and simple to keep in mind, but now what's important to me are its key aesthetic qualities: what do I find most interesting about the way this creature actually looks?

This will be different for everybody, but personally I'm charmed by the animal's big, awkward looking head, the fact that its face is mostly those huge, bulbous mouthparts, and the two absurdly tiny, beady eyes that give an otherwise lethal creature an adorable, timid looking visual personality. Solifugids are as a matter of fact VERY skittish animals, prone to fleeing at the first sign of a larger threat. With all that in mind:

FACE DESIGN

This monster is supposed to be half human, so the first thing I sketch is how I think the head of a Solifugid would look made entirely of human facial features. I already know that isn't what I'm going for, and the horrible Garbage Pail Kid that results is too "creepy," completely losing the original animal's cute streak. Making the chelicerae from teeth and gums, however, was kind of always a given, so I draw some other takes on that, and I like some things about them but not enough that any really stick with me.

So I look at the real creature again, and I actually notice for the first time in my life that when seen from above, the eyes almost protrude beyond the "lip" or "rim" where the chelicerae emerge, and I realize that's been a key part of that cuteness I keep seeing. I just sort of instantly decide to capture this by pulling the "lip" of my monster version up behind its eyes, and it works perfectly! Its eyes now look cute to me! The furrowed rim even gives it a "worried" sort of look, like it's actually cowering within its own jaws. I feel like this is a perfect place to leave the head design just for now, so then we can move on to:

BODY DESIGN

One way I bring out the human aspect in these mashups is by sticking to just four appendages. An obvious route is to keep the sticky grabbers as its arms and hands. This leaves it only two legs, but that just communicates the running speed better than I hoped.

If you remember from earlier though, the suction palps of a camel spider AREN'T legs, but mouth parts attached to the head, and that might be an interesting aspect to consider. Maybe they could even be made of squishy gum flesh, more tentacle-like and emerge from the corners of the monster's jaws?

This would free it up to have four actual legs, which could give it a more arachnid-like stance again...but I find that kind of underwhelming. I like the two-legged runner idea.

A possible solution comes straight from another kind of two-legged predator with a big, giant head and jaws: if we shrink the forelegs down like ancient Carnosauria, we can keep the grabbers as mouthparts, keep it a four-limbed metahuman, and keep it running on just two legs.

I do a few more sketches of this kind of design, and I like something about all of them, but I feel like the head concept still isn't finished. On its own, it still looks just a little too much like the face of "only" a big bug. Where can something "more human" go without interrupting that "perfect" (to me) arrangement of the jaws and eyes? Pretty much only on the rest of the big, round head.

REVISITING THE FACE

After some more miscellaneous doodling I go back to these face sketches, adding pits that resemble a nose hole and eye sockets. At first I think of them as bony, like a skull, but if they're soft and fleshy, the face takes on a more disturbing monster quality that in my opinion still doesn't subtract from the parts I found endearing.

Sketching more heads along these lines, I also consider treating the chelicerae as their own vertebrate skulls, and really want to see how that looks on a completed monster.

So in the next full body sketch, I drop the abdomen and just make the legs a lot larger to balance out the head. Now that the chelicerae are "skulls" with their own "eye sockets," I also try out how it would look if the palps actually emerge from those. It's kind of a neat effect, BUT, now I feel like the design has TOO MANY "weird" factors that just muddle it up.

So I go back through all of these sketches, I pick out the aspects I really find the most appealing - my favorite stance, my favorite jaws, my favorite proportions - and I try to bring those all together for hopefully one last try:

......And everyone will have differing opinions, but for me, this is finally just right! This is the design that reminds me of the real animal in every way I want it to, while looking as much like a freaky, warped humanoid as I also want it to. It looks dangerous and unnatural but it also looks a little shy and uncertain; a chomping, gnashing, bounding, horrible thing to its prey but possibly a big soft coward on the inside. This will most likely be the sketch on which I base its full-color artwork some time in the future, so it now goes in a folder where I keep every satisfactory concept design until they're ready to clean up.

And as a final, extra test of this monster's look, I scribble an extra-simplified cartoon version that demonstrates an entirely different pose. Everything I liked about the design is still evident here, and I even like how its eyes can also be interpreted as buck teeth in its "other" face, which I hadn't considered until now. If you can strip all the fine details from a design and it still doesn’t look like any other you can recall, you should probably keep it! There are some designs I settle on quite a bit faster, even some that I like from the very first sketch, while other designs have gone through several times as many attempts as this one, but there’s always a rationalization I put into every detail, considering both how the creature “works” and the kind of character I want it to convey.

#mortasheen #art #biology #animals #arachnids #camel spider #solifugid #bugs #arthropods #monsters #creature design

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sinisterexaggerator · 3 years ago

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Title: A Kiss

Inspired by an “imagine” scenario: @silkenwinds39

Word count: 510

Warnings: None, just a little fluff and a “kiss.”

No one was around; it was perfect timing. You two were alone in the Restoration’s hangar bay. You were a mechanic, though Shriv often kept you company. He preferred to work on his own X-wing, and that’s how you had gotten to know him by and large.

He was atop a ladder, standing high above. He had a tool in hand, his torso and his head hidden deep within the innards of his fighter. You cleared your throat; you heard a knock. He had bumped his bulbous cranium against something and it had been your fault.

He withdrew from the task he had been engaged in, peeked out to look at you as he rubbed this newly tender spot. He was quiet, slightly squinting as his stark, red eyes readjusted to the luminescence of the room.

“Shriv, I didn’t get a hug from you today…” you baited him, pouting lightly, jutting out that sexy bottom lip.

The Duros glanced around before he turned to you – he blinked rapidly, wondering if anyone had heard what you had said. He set down his current implement, then took to descending the three or four tiers that would allow him to alit upon the floor. He had stepped off the last rung quietly, inching forward to close the gap between you. He *ahemed,* then lifted both his arms up.

He was timid at first, but then quickly moved to finish embracing you against his person. Once he had locked you in, he lingered for a moment. He had closed his eyelids to relish this fleeting instant of affection before he shuffled off, ambulating somewhat awkwardly back towards his half-gutted ship.

“And what about a kiss?” you coaxed him, smiling coyly.

He looked over his shoulder at you; opened his mouth to speak, but only a tiny breath had been inhaled. It seemed he couldn’t argue with you or didn’t want to, though he was a mite surprised. He peered around again, turned; crept forward. He leaned into you, then pressed his forehead flush against your own and his smooth rostrum along your nose.

He nuzzled you, the flat of his unique face shape cold to the touch. You moaned out a little “mm” having forgotten this was the way that Duros kissed.

By the time he pulled away you were blushingly heatedly. It was the silliest thing to get turned on by a simple brush against your skin. You opened your mouth, meaning to beg for something more – he had already started to retract his neck, straightening out to stand upright.

“Shriv, maybe we-“

He gave you a side-long glance as he stood across from you, his stoicism taking over - he raised a single finger in a halfhearted show of protest, his mouth parting to reveal his well kempt fangs - though he perhaps thought better of it.

He halted your words without so much as a single utterance of his own - he had kept his criticisms to himself for once. There was someone coming. He pressed his lips together, or the lips he had, the corners lowering into a look of solemn warning.

It was a dangerous game you played, but careful was Suurgav’s middle name.

#Shriv Suurgav #Star Wars #fanfiction #Duros #Inspired #Fluff #Battlefront 2 #Shriv x Reader #Shriv Suurgav x Reader #Reader insert #My writing

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kariachi · 2 years ago

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So, saw somebody else doing a whole ‘what daemons do your OCs have and why’ sorta deal so, for shits and giggles, my major loves.

Marian- Torc, Aldabra Giant Tortoise

Look, sometimes a woman is a tortoise. Patient, sturdy, stubborn, reliable. An old soul who always plans ahead, with a mind that runs like clockwork. A rock in the chaos. And then, you get people who are tortoises, but more. She has a large presence, a matriarch at her heart who walks into a room and you feel it in the air, a quiet pride barely hidden under the stereotypical tortoise humbleness that requires a massive daemon to contain it. Add to that that, for giant tortoises, Aldabra’s are known to be relatively fast and acrobatic, which is a great reflection for the fact that she has the soul of an adventurer and prankster underneath it all. For all she’s reserved and hardworking, once you get her out of her shell she burns for excitement.

Monette- Cadyl, Gelada

Again, sometimes a woman is a monkey. An outgoing and communicative creature, small and unassuming, not as smart as some but enough so, with complex social networks and a tendency to keep groups of partners and associates. She trades in favors like a gelada trade in acts of grooming, thriving in a group and wasting when she’s alone, not afraid to let go of some of her power and control in exchange for a more overall favorable outcome. But like a gelada you can’t let the charm and peaceful exterior fool you, because with cause she’s more than willing to bare her teeth in warning or threat to defend what’s hers.

Allison- Donnie, Austroplebeia cassiae

Why yes, Donnie’s species doesn't even have a common name, just one of so many little-noted stingless honeybees. Allie is everything you would expect from such a creature. Hardworking, loyal, creative, more focused on the whole than on herself. She lives for her family and her community, organizing people, supporting those around her, and standing for what she believes in, no matter the cost to herself. But the stingless portion is important. She hates to lie, and more importantly isn’t made to fight. While she’ll take to it if need be, it’s not in her nature to be on the front lines, and her roles is more in taking care of and lending support to those who can dive into the fray herself.

Dr. Carel- Lana, Northern Flying Squirrel

Though he appears to be scatterbrained, our dear doctor is more intelligent that he first seems, simply hard to understand due to how he flits from project to project that others can’t understand with dogged determination. Not one to run, not one to fight, fine alone but happy in groups as well. His, unique, viewpoint is befitting someone with a gliding daemon, as is the way his mind and feet both wander.

Var/Valko- Tarav, Bluetick Hound

And sometimes a man is a hound dog. Loyal, social, highly active, loud. Or, well, he used to be. He’s nonverbal anymore but still once he opens up you better hope you can read sign at speed because he’s not slowing down or shutting up. He reliable, playful, outgoing, and true to his pack. Adventurous and intelligent, though not a leader in any way. He’s a follower, yes, and one of the best right hand’s you’re going to get.

Irene- James, Western Pebble Mound Mouse

Is pretty much exactly what you’d stereotypically expect from a mouse- shy, a mite timid, but intelligent. She’d working on regrowing the backbone her family stole from her, but she’s polite, respectful, playful, and empathetic. True to James’s species, she’s in her element in groups despite her shyness, a creator at heart, more resilient than she first appears, and without an aggressive bone in her body (or any bones, really, but that’s besides the point).

Jadie- Wira, Ring-Necked Pheasant

Somebody somewhere ordered a prince charming, though I don’t know who. Though not immediately impressive, they have an air of confidence and grace common to male gamefowl everywhere. They’re charming, dependable, affectionate, chatty, and a hardworker, ready to drop everything and dive directly into whatever mess they need to to look out for those around them. Poly as fuck, they spoil and defend their women against all comers without a second thought, taking a fierce pride in them in all their glory, and are also strongly family-oriented, for all that they’ve run off and done their own thing.

#my ocs #i love them all so #they're wonderful #this doesn't go into all the intricacies of them all but it gives a 'why' for their shapes #we've got four mammals an insect a non-avian reptile and a bird #mari monie allie and jadie sort've form a loose quartet in my head #which at least makes sense for mari and jadie since she's literally their boss #dear jadie stop yearning for your boss it doesn't matter how much you lure her to the 'maybe i'll make an exception for butches' side #when she signs your paycheck and owns the house and coop you and your chickens live in #she's a better boss than that

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xamassed · 3 years ago

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ANITA’S POKEMON TEAM

— TEDDIURSA ( HONEY ) f / naive the baby of the group, often wandering off because she’s become a mite too curious about everything around her. 90% of the reason why everyone panics.

— URSARING ( GOLIATH ) f / adamant honey’s mother, known for being overprotective of her daughter and her trainer. actually, she’s everyone’s mother. don’t cross her, or you will be mauled.

— HITMONCHAN ( SUCKERPUNCH ) m / naughty a fighter, but not in the protective sense. likes to prove himself in battle, getting into tussles with anyone he sees fit. isn’t above getting into tiffs with anita.

— HERACROSS ( BULLDOZER ) m / quiet his name is misleading, as he doesn’t bulldoze unless provoked. the most peaceful of the team, opting to remain quiet and patient.

— GARBODOR ( TREASURE ) f / timid named because ‘ one man’s trash is another man’s treasure ’ and anita adores her despite the stench. treasure is shy and frightened of most people / pokemon outside the usual team.

#「 ( anita ; headcanon ) 」#( different than her last team but i couldn't remember some of them :c )

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writeangstime · 5 years ago

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Changing your destiny (Eskel x Reader)

Title: Changing your destiny Fandom: The Witcher (All media) Pairing: Eskel x Reader Genere: Angst (well, it’s supposed to be..) Word counts: 4007 Warnings: Blood

A story that I wrote for @lovermrjokerr‘s challenge - go check it out because I think it is super fun to do something like that and it is so nice that a fanfic writer is doing something where others can try themselves!

It was read and checked by wonderful @mindowe that took some of her time and fixed all the mistakes for me (and apparently had the patience of the angel doing so)! She is also a wonderful artist - her drawing is amazing, check her tumblr and other social media for it!

The wind ruffled through your hair, bringing the tiny mites of sand to your face, forcing you to turn away and, spiting the dirt on the ground the mere seconds before the hove of your horse made its mark on the uneven path. Melitele must have overlooked this place when she was blessing the country because, as far as you could see, there was only a yellow plain of dry and broken grass that was being covered by sand with every stronger gust of wind. Yet, you could understand why it was a perfect hideout for any creature that would like to have some privacy - or for basically anyone who would seek solitude for something mischievous.

Your mount seemed to agree with your unspoken words, shaking its chestnut mane with what could you say was some kind of concern – under your legs you could feel the horse muscles tensing from something more than a weight on his back as his uneasy breath joined the cracking of the straws and the hitting of the hooves on the trodden path. Swirling reins around your left hand, you reached the other one to pat the animal’s neck, trying to ensure him of the safety of both you and him, though you had to admit it got you a little worried. It was no surprise that domestic creatures were more prone of being influenced by the magic – both good and bad, both strong and weak. Both new and old.

But you could tell that you were getting closer to the place you have been looking for the past few years – at first it was only a distant shape on the horizon, being so thin that one would think it needed only a blink of an eye to disappear in the thin air. But as you were riding closer toward it, the shape began to grow, climbing towards the sky and shifting into the central point in the wasteland. After what seemed to be a long, stretched hours but in reality couldn’t be more than a few minutes, you reached your destination and had to admit, that being present in this place brought to you more uneasiness than actual joy.

If anyone called you a scavenger, hunter or a raider you couldn’t care less. And sometimes fixing them a stern glare, sometimes completely ignoring their person and from time to time even going with some kind of the mean comment in return, but you never got yourself into the discussion. It took some of your precious time that was always in short. Or at least you felt like it was. It felt tiring in certain moments, knowing that your destiny was forged for you long before you could even set the foot on this world. But you weren’t going to sit idly and wait for the curse to swarm you and entrap you in your own body like a prison.

Stopping your mount in front of the entrance you couldn’t help a smirk crawling on your lips as you noticed how small the door in front of you were, left in good condition - though the tower looked like it could collapse in any minute, with the stones almost turning into dust right in front of you. But it was still holding, supported by what you could only guess was the magic that lingered here long after the mage who waved it had long been gone. Well, you hoped he was – meeting undead wasn’t exactly the plan for today, tomorrow and till the end of your life. Sadly for you, whoever inhabited this place decided that windows were not in their taste. If there was anything awaiting you in the tower, it had a lot of the advantage.

Swiftly gliding off the horse, you reached to your saddlebags, cursing under the breath as you hardly tried to memorize where you put the very thing you needed right now. After a while, you managed (or rather struggled) to pull out the small lantern, gently straightening the paper walls and making sure that the candle inside didn’t break during the journey. After you decided that it won’t be any better, you reached to retrieve the flint and tinder from your pocket, bringing a small flame that soon warmed on the candle and glowed in the warm but timid light. Well it had to be enough, you didn’t plan to linger in this place anyway. Pulling out your sword with a small cling sound, you moved to the entrance, holding the light in front of you.

It turned out that the doors were in much worse condition that they looked and, after a moment of trying to force them to open with your body weight, you practically barraged yourself inside, coughing strongly as the clouds of dust were brought to the air with your entrance. The doors slowly moved back to their original position, shutting that small amount of light that you brought from the outside. You managed to calm your breath down, though you still had the feeling that your lungs wanted to escape and you decided to look around as it seemed that there was no unpleasant surprise waiting here especially for you.

The interior of the tower looked less gloomy than you expected and to your surprise you could actually imagine yourself seating here in some kind of future when your bones are too old to move in proper way. You just could sit by the fire, not worried about anything that was happening outside. Though the area seemed small, mostly because being cramped by the horrendous amount of books and parchments, the unfitting furniture added some sort of cosiness. But it wasn’t the time to get some sightseeing and you had a job to do, so placing the lamp carefully on the table, you moved to search through the books for any information that you could use to your case.

You planned to start with the book on the wooden podium that seemed different from the others, but to your surprise the moment you touched the surface it vibrated under your hand, sending the wave of heat so warm it bordered on burning. Quickly retrieving your fingers, you furrowed your brows, deciding to leave it to the last in case you didn’t find anything in the other volumes.

The flame of the candle lowered, lantern brightened the room from a different angle and casted a longer shadow from your figure as the pile of the things you have searched through had grown bigger and bigger, the same as your frustration. What you by far stumbled upon was a very interesting research, some information about housework and even a bit of the poems, but yet nothing with your family surname or even the slightest mention of the magic. You were sure that this was the place, that there lived the person responsible for it all, and yet there was no a single clue that you could cling to. With every paper tossed aside, your doubts were rising and the feeling of anger creeping in your soul replaced the patience with bitterness of doing something in vain.

You reached for another book but stopped with the stretched hand as you heard scream so loud that it rang inside your thoughts, echoing unpleasantly. Whatever it was, there was no way a human being would sound like that. So that meant you definitely should find your way out before this thing plans to break inside, but as you reached to the door, the loud and agonizing scream of your mount froze you in place. With a beating heart you listened for any noise from outside and after what seemed to be only a mere second something started to push the wood, the crackling of the planks from the force causing the feeling of pure terror and panic.

Jumping away from the door, you hit the table and knocked over the lamp. It smashed on the ground and the scent of the wax burning the paper filled the air. Backing from the entrance in the complete darkness, you pulled out your sword once again, not at all feeling prepared for whatever insisted on getting inside but also not going to sell your soul for nothing. If you could put up the fight, you planned to do it for good. Hiding yourself in the element of the surprise, you stumbled once more upon the wooden podium. Deciding that now or never, you grabbed the strange volume, hoping that it would be at least some kind of weird defence.

But as soon as you raised it from its place, the cover opened, the pages going so fast in front of you that you didn’t even have a chance to read its contents. A blue light burst out and soon the darkness swallowed you, tossing you to what seemed as an endless fall.

***

The shivers were forcing your body to jolt, sometimes giving you the feeling that every inch of your skin is burning only to switch into paralyzing freeze of your veins – it was like every inch of you was torn apart to be once again build in the same way. From what you could say basing on the delusional state you were in, your body was laying on some kind of stone, but at the same time it felt like you were drowning in it, looped in endless falling that neither ground nor the very deepness of the earth could stop.

You weren’t alone though – from the bleakness of your surroundings you could catch the glimpse of the face. Though the scars covered most of it man’s yellow eyes were completely soft and caring, almost like nothing you ever saw in your life. Though the circumstances were more than unusual, you didn’t feel fear, maybe because you could find only a compassion in the way he kneeled beside you. Opening your mouth you searched for the words, but he gestured you not to speak, turning away to search for something you couldn’t see.

“Shh, it’s okay. I got you.”

***

You had no idea for how long you remained unconscious with your body still paying the price for a sudden teleportation, but for sure you realized after waking up that there is no more pain and you could get up as easily as if you just took a refreshing nap. The daylight didn’t shine in the cave but the small fire gave enough light for you to see the man sitting in front of it. He was the very same person that you remembered from your fever dreams and just as you moved up you noticed the cape sliding down on your lap – he must have covered you with it while you were sleeping. Your movement must have caught his attention, as he turned away from you, reaching for something to his right.

“I see you are feeling better now. Is everything well, do you feel you can sit up properly?” He asked with the hearable amount of concern in his voice. You could see him pouring something to the small wooden bowl before he moved closer, handing it carefully to you. Using your sleeves as a protection from warm surface, you nodded in a silence gesture of gratitude.

“Yes, I feel much better now. I assume it is thanks to you, mister…” you asked, rising your head from above the warm soup. It smelled delicious and you felt the clench in your stomach that reminded you that your last meal was probably a long time ago.

You could hear him laugh a bit at your last word, a pleasant, low vibrating sound that seemed friendly and yet strange at the same time coming from the man whose scars were for sure mark of some encountered hostility in his life.

“Eskel, just Eskel, without any mister. And you are?” The man now known to you as Eskel allowed himself to lean on the saddle. With small amount of shame you noticed that there was no other bed than the one you have been sleeping on, so it meant you had left him to sleep on the bare stones probably.

“I am [Your name]. I don’t know how can I repay you.” Well, you felt like you should. He could kill you or rob you. Or both. The list could go on but you got the idea. But as soon as you asked that question, the more urgent matter came into your mind. “Do you mind asking me how long I was blacked out and…well, where exactly I am? We are.” You corrected yourself almost immediately.

“No need to mention that, I was here anyway. And for the former, we are actually in the mountains near the Oxenfurt. We stayed here for a two days.”

You cursed loudly, causing him to give you a surprised look as you quickly shook your head in some sort of explanation.

“My apologies, I must admit you caught me here by surprise. My last position and the one I thought I would be is actually on the opposite side of the mountain.” You fell silent, wondering on the book that was a last object you’ve touched. The feeling of sadness woke inside you when you reminded yourself of a lost horse that you got used to and the saddlebags you will probably never retreat. Well, it didn’t leave you completely broke as you had your small savings in the bank but you still had some valuable knowledge in your personal things. At least, the sword survived with you as you glanced at it, resting by your side. You sipped the soup carefully, but overall the situation wasn’t bright at all.

“I can help you reach the town if you want, I will need to refill my supplies anyway” Eskel offered, breaking the silence between you two. Rising your lips in the smile that you weren’t sure he could see from his place, you nodded once again in thanking.

“I think I will accept the offer. And I insist, when we reach the town I want to somehow reward you for your help. You saved my life, and I don’t want to be in someone’s debt.” Placing down your bowl with a small knock, you stretched a bit, making sure that your muscles fully recovered. One more thing popped in your mind and you turned your face towards your saviour once again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you doing up here?” You didn’t take him for a lost traveller and his equipment showed he was more than a mere shepherd – such person would not take two swords with themselves just to lead sheep up the mountains. He didn’t seem to be offended by your question, taking up your empty bowl and putting it away together with his own.

“I was culling some harpies in the area. Nothing too extravagant for a witcher, I’m afraid.” He laughed once again, slowly putting away the fire. These words made you look at him at more interesting angle as you were thinking over what he’s just said. Coincidence or that damn volume you touched, maybe this was exactly what you have needed – if you could convince him to come with you, of course. Slowly standing up and handing him his coat, you were taking your sweet time to start the proper topic as you attached the sword to your waist.

“Say, aren’t you maybe in a need for a work right now?” Trying to sound as innocent and not as clingy you slowly started to make your case. “Because I might have one on the hand.”

“Well, for sure there is a vacant for me right now, though I am afraid I would need more details.” He answered carefully, raising the saddle to strap it on the black horse that was calmly standing there.

“Let’s say there are not many…?” You half asked half stated, fixing yourself rather quickly when he raised his eyebrows. “I mean, I know this thing is strong, can catch the horse by surprise and kill it in one swing and has a scream so loud that you want to plug something in your brain just not to hear it anymore. It is the only thing that I’ve noticed before that damn book decided to threw me far away. Please, I will pay you as much as you want, but this is really important for me.”

He went silent for a while, focusing more on preparation for the journey than the reply to you but you knew he had to process it. Standing there rather silently, you stared at the ground, not saying a word not to seem too insistent. Finally, you heard him sight quietly and he turned to you.

“It will be much faster if we skip a visit to the town.”

***

Much to your pleasant surprise, it turned out that Eskel was a great travel companion, not only allowing you to ride the Scorpion (that, even if he loved his owner, decided to switch for the person he was nagging for extra snacks) but sometimes even leading you on it as you travelled through the sides of the mountains. It took little for both of you to unwind and tell stories about your lives, sharing a funny on embarrassing moments. He told you a few things about his job and you’ve never pushed too much for the things he barely mentioned. In return, you briefly told him what you were doing though you have never explained to him the true nature of your curse. It was for your knowledge only.

The small camps you were making on the way seemed a lot easier than you had remembered from your previous journeys – or maybe having two pairs of hands was working miracles. Not that you have ever avoided the company of others, but it was always easier to pack and take care of only yourself and your horse. At least, that is what you thought until now, knowing that you are going to miss the moments of building the campfire as Eskel was shocking you with his sense of humor, sometimes being even cheeky.

But all good things must come to an end sooner or later and that was no different case. As you arrived in front of the tower, your mood drastically dropped to the point your own voice lowered like you expected something to jump right in front of you. To your quite visible surprise, there was no trace of the horse blood, any of your things or even scratches on the door, like the events from your last visit have never taken place. But you were sure that this was the exact spot, the same tower and there was no way you could take the wrong way, memorizing the map so well you could draw it in your mind even while in deadly battle.

You had the feeling that the witcher that kept you a company had doubts himself but even if he did, he didn’t share them with you. He helped you to get off the horse and led him right behind the building. You watched in awe as his hands moved to the certain position and the marks you didn’t know before shone on the ground, gently surrounding the animal. He caught your surprised face with a hint of smile and took one of the swords with him.

“This is for protection. After all, I like him quite well.” Giving you reply for the question you have never asked, he moved to the doors and you helped him to push the old oak. Inside, you could actually see the marks of your last visit – the burned lantern, the books tossed in the pile and that stupid volume that laid where you’ve must dropped it after teleportation. The door behind you slowly shut with a loud creak and you could almost feel your heart beating faster.

“I was there. Sitting and reading. It is hard to tell what was happening and I knocked over the light. I tried to hide, grabbed the book…” You stopped, realizing that in this darkness he has no way of telling what you meant. But before the man could say anything, loud scream rang in the air once again, making you flinch and Eskel reach for his sword.

“If anything happens and I tell you to run, do it.” His voice was stern and calm and you were wondering if he was feeling confident, or he could actually cover his feelings and push them to the side.

“Yes” was the only word you were able to say before the loud noise came from the horse. This time, there was also a loud grunt, something you didn’t catch the last time. Maybe the thing wasn’t happy that the additional meal wasn’t so easy to get. Once again the door started to creak and you moved back a bit as you heard the witcher shifting from his place. Both of you didn’t say anything while you were waiting for this thing to come in.

Eventually, the wood gave in and the creature burst inside. It was like nothing you have ever seen – a humanoid and yet a wild creature, casting the ghastly light but being made of the swirling shadows. It had no eyes and yet, when it moved its head, you could feel it was gazing right into your deepest part of soul. Monster did not waste time, jumping so quickly you barely raised the sword that you held – and even that didn’t help.

The steel shattered like the sword was made of glass, not standing even one blow. The tearing pain went through your whole body as the claws cut through your clothes and the blood poured with you falling on the ground. The beast raised its paw once again, but this time the other sword stopped it from taking your guts out – Eskel’s weapon withstood more power than yours. Such resistance was bestowed with un unhappy growl from the monster that now focused on the man.

You could only watch the battle in front your eyes with amazement as the witcher moved in the way you wouldn’t believe anyone could. He was like a water, shaping and shifting in the recognition of the another blow, so the angry creature was either grasping the air or clinging to his sword. But the monster was quickly adapting to the fight, following soon after and learning things while it was mercilessly beating its opponent. You would be dead for sure if you didn’t open that volume earlier…

The volume! Looking around you, your eyes found it lying close to you. You felt pain in every inch of your body, the air on your open wounds giving you shivers, but despite pain you moved, reaching your hand towards it. It felt like you were moving at disgracefully slow pace, especially when you heard the battle sounds becoming more and more aggressive. You finally managed to place a hand on the book and it shoot the wave of heat to your skin once again. Taking all the strength you could gather right now, you grabbed it and tossed it with a swing of your hand.

The pages shifted when the book flew towards ongoing battle and you could see Eskel jumped out of the way. Bright blue light burst in the room once again, blinding you for a while before it all disappeared, taking the whatever attacked you with itself as the volume hit the floor. The adrenaline burst you got seemed to slow down, as the blood pumping in you seemed to run outside in a scary tempo. You laid down your head, closing your eyes as the pain was becoming stronger with every passing second. There was no option you could move, even when the witcher called your name. At least, you heard him well before you passed out.

“Shh, I am here. It will be okay.”

#Lovermrjokerr8kchallenge #eskel #eskel x reader #the witcher #mindowe #lovemrjokerr #writeatingtime #angst

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beauregardlionett · 5 years ago

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an exercise in trust

AO3 Link

If there is one thing that Caleb is not, it is a trusting man.

He learned the hard way a long time ago that trust was not a simple thing. Placing trust in people he thought cared about him had burned Caleb and he was not eager to make the same mistakes again. Trust was a dangerous thing—earned, built, and accumulated through many trials. It was fickle and fragile and as complicated as trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle while intoxicated.

So, he did not trust easily.

Which is why he often found himself a little thrown with how readily he handed trust over to Nott.

She was not a charming individual, but she was a clever creature and honest with him—blunt in a way that Caleb had not experienced in far too many years. He supposed that was enough foundation to begin his trust in her, so he let it happen. But after everything, Caleb trusted with quiet effort nowadays. He showed it most often when they had a private moment, and even more often without words or grandiose gestures.

They were mere days into knowing these people from the circus fiasco when he exercised his trust in Nott more publicly.

Caleb knelt a little to get to Nott’s level and told her in a whisper, “I will need you to guide me while I use Frumpkin, ja?”

Nott, to her credit, seemed to understand his hesitation, his need for her to guide him while he was at his most vulnerable. She nodded her little goblin head firmly as he stood back to his full height. Caleb had already explained to the rest of the lunatics (as he called them) what was about to happen. So without preamble, he placed a tentative hand on Nott’s scrawny shoulder and let his vision blur and cloud over as he switched perspectives.

While he was blind and deaf in utilizing Frumpkin, Caleb could still register anything physical happening to his body. A warm curl of fondness sprung in his chest when he felt Nott’s sharp nails and knobby fingers clutch protectively at his pinkie. He had a strange, out-of-body notion they were walking forward, and he had to resist the urge to snap back to his own sight.

Caleb had, many times before, walked around without a guide while using his familiar’s eyes. But he had to admit, it was nice being able to focus all thought on what Frumpkin was seeing without the worry that he might slam into the side of a building or trip over errant cobblestones.

He was fairly sure he could feel someone fiddling with one of his coat pockets, but the sensation was barely there. He passed it off as perhaps some passing breeze, fluttering his clothing in a strange manner, and tried to focus.

Gathering the information the group needed from Frumpkin’s line of sight, Caleb came back to himself with a few rapid blinks. Glancing down at Nott, he was careful to dislodge her hold with a grateful pat to her shoulder and a tiny smile of thanks. She beamed up at him through the bandages around her face in return.

He only remembered the strange sensation against his coat about four hours later when he was doing inventory of his components. The pocket he had felt being fiddled with contained five gold pieces he had not previously possessed, along with a tiny clump of yellow flowers that looked like weeds.

Smiling fondly over at Nott’s curled up, slumbering form, Caleb tucked the flowers and the gold pieces away securely and returned to his components.

II.

They had spent near a week together on the road after the events in Trostenwald. Their time comprised of trekking between towns, gleaning information where they could, sleeping under the stars, and accumulating a desperate need for a warm bath and a cozy bed. The last time they had seen anyone pass them by on the road was about three days ago. Tensions were running high, as they were wont to do after wandering so long.

“How much farther?” Jester whined, her accent drawling over the last syllable. She trudged with dramatic fashion alongside the rest of them, hanging her head back for effect and to prove a point. Caleb knew it must be bad if even their resident optimist was showing signs of frustration.

“I can check with Frumpkin,” he offered quietly, suppressing an amused smile as the blue Tiefling’s head popped back up almost instantly.

“Really?” Jester’s tail flicked back and forth with energetic fervor behind her, indigo eyes wide and sparkling.

“Ja, just uh…” Caleb trailed off as he sent Frumpkin the sparrow fluttering up into the air and on ahead of them.

The road they were walking on was barely fit to call a road. The dirt path had deep, over used ruts from cartwheels engraved upon it, and their path was haphazard with errant rocks and roots and miscellaneous earthen things scattered about. Caleb had only avoided tripping thus far with careful consideration. Going blind to use Frumpkin would likely prove to be disastrous.

Glancing to his left at Fjord, Caleb reached out to place a tentative tap on the half-Orc’s forearm, earning the warlock’s attention.

“Would you mind if I ah…held onto your arm for a moment?”

Fjord raised his elbow Caleb’s way with an easy, “by all means.”

Fingers curling with timid weight around Fjord’s bicep, Caleb let the dizzying sensation of switching sight wash over him. Frumpkin had flown a couple miles ahead of them, to where Caleb had no control over the fey creature anymore. But through the sparrow’s eyes, Caleb could see that they were about five or six miles from a lively looking town. They could make it there by mid-afternoon, presuming they had no pit stops or distractions, and hopefully find beds for the night.

As his familiar coasted into a curve to start the flight back to their ragtag team, Caleb felt a slight jostling of movement against his free wrist. Blinking back to himself, the wizard looked down in time to see Jester tying off the ribbon that held their map into a bow around his forearm. A glance at Beau and Molly revealed that the pair had their heads bowed together over said map as they deliberated directions.

Deciding to ignore whatever Jester’s intentions were, knowing by now that she often did things just because, Caleb turned to Fjord as he removed his hold with a quiet, “much obliged.”

“There is a town up ahead, about five miles out,” Caleb raised his voice to the group, drawing the attention away from the map. “We can probably get there by this afternoon if we keep going.”

Jester and Nott cheered simultaneously, devolving into excited chatter about what they would do once they arrived in town. Caleb removed the ribbon from his wrist and handed it off to Beau as she rolled the map back up. Fjord left a quick pat on Caleb’s shoulder, an amicable smile on the warlock’s face, before striding ahead to monitor the excitable duo that was Jester and Nott.

III.

They were picking their careful way through the abandoned mine shaft; the darkness broken only by their handheld source of light. He was trying to save his spells, so the lack of dancing lights left Caleb—and his lack of ability to see in darkness—feeling rather disadvantaged. Over the passing days that their strange troupe remained together, he had begrudgingly started dolling out a few mites more of trust to them all. They hadn’t let him and Nott die yet, so he felt they earned it.

That didn’t mean it was any easier to offer information or pass out confidence, but Caleb supposed it was a step forward. Though he had to admit, it wasn’t a step forward he had ever planned to take. He still wanted to be able to cut and run, guilt free, should he and Nott need to, but this whole trusting thing would make that a lot more difficult.

Someone mentioned something about scouting ahead, and Caleb, eager to be useful, spoke up.

“I can send Frumpkin on ahead. He is still a bird, so I don’t know how well he will see in the dark, but we can at least figure out by sound if there is something up ahead to worry about.”

With easy acceptance from the rest of the group, Caleb telepathically instructed his familiar to go on ahead for a way before doubling back to them. Giving his bird a head start, Caleb reached out in front of him and tapped his fingers against Mollymauk’s shoulders.

“May I borrow your shoulders for a bit?” Caleb asked, voice low and unassuming. The group was becoming steadily accustomed to the wizard needing guidance when he scouted ahead, and if Caleb was honest, he didn’t think they would mind if he didn’t ask first. But there was a significant part of him that still didn’t know how to extend that level of trust without the fear of being shaken off.

“Be my guest,” Molly said over his shoulder with ease. Caleb’s hands slipped onto Molly’s shoulders, careful not to let them rest too heavy, and he slid from semi-darkness to absolute void with a quick, cloudy blink. Finding he was correct in his assumption that Frumpkin would not see much here, Caleb focused his hearing as his familiar flew carefully ahead of the group.

Caleb spent the next few minutes listening through Frumpkin’s ears, trying to pick up anything that might reveal their target up ahead. He was just beginning to pick up on a distant scuttling noise when Caleb felt his body jolt and jostle. The wizard, worried now and about to snap back to his own senses, heard the scuttling become more pronounced.

Hesitating, Caleb let Frumpkin’s hearing confirm for him that their suspicions were correct, that there was something to worry about up ahead. Unfortunately, it sounded much bigger than standard mine vermin. Waiting until he was certain his familiar was on the way back, Caleb fluttered his eyelids against the shift back to their section of semi-lit mine shaft. Looking around, tensed for a fight, it surprised him to find everything nearly as he left it.

“Sorry,” Molly’s voice reached him, the Tiefling noticing Caleb’s return. “That was my fault, didn’t realize there was a bit of a step down. Caught us in time to not take a tumble, though.”

“Ah,” Caleb said, relaxing a fraction. He removed his hands from Molly’s shoulders and twisted his fingers together in a nervous fashion. “Danke.”

“Anytime,” Molly drawled with a grin, flicking his finger with a gentle brush to the underside of Caleb’s chin. “Find anything?”

“Ja,” Caleb answered, relaying the details and distance of the scuttling of large creatures ahead of them. “I think we are in for a fight.”

IV.

Caleb lurched upright with a gasp that almost immediately devolved into a groan of pain. He clutched at his side with trembling fingers and tried to tamp down on the whirling sensation in his head and overwhelming nausea.

“Easy there, Mr. Caleb,” a familiar timbre said to one side of the wizard. “You’re going to be just fine, we’ve got you.”

A careful pat to his shoulder and the warm sensation of healing magic weaving through damaged muscle and sinew accompanied the sentence. It rushed over Caleb with soothing quickness that let him catch his breath. Some tension he had been holding unwound with the gesture and Caleb sighed with relief as the nausea subsided. He was still in quite a bit of pain, but it was much more manageable now.

“I’m sorry, Cay-leb,” another distinct voice spoke from his other side, accompanied by yet another pat. This subsequent flow of magic felt a little weaker, but no less warm for it. “I don’t have many spells left in me.”

“That is quite all right,” Caleb grunted, mustering the energy to look up. Caduceus and Jester knelt either side of him, wearing matching looks of relief shadowed by concern. They had clearly pulled him back from the brink if the lingering exhaustion and pain were any cues to go by.

“You gave us quite the scare there,” Caduceus commented, the statement far less scary when said in his soothing cadence.

“Even after all this time, you’re still so squishy,” Jester sighed, her gloved fingers petting through Caleb’s mussed hair. She had a wistful and upset expression on her face, and Caleb hated to think he could cause her distress. Their group had unofficially decided that Jester’s face was not made to be sad. They made an effort to make sure she was smiling and jovial as often as possible.

“Ja, I must say,” Caleb grunted as he shifted around, testing his mobility. “I do not miss frequently going unconscious from when we first met.”

That, at least, pulled a watery chuckle from Jester.

She and Caduceus helped Caleb to his feet as they tried to figure out which direction to head to find everyone else. They sometimes ended up a little scattered in the aftermath of certain fights. Despite their attempts to stay within sightline of each other, the circumstances did not always lend to that notion.

With Caduceus on one side, his arm steady around Caleb’s shoulders, and Jester on the other with a firm arm around his waist, Caleb summoned Frumpkin.

“I can find the others with him, but I will need you two to guide me and keep me upright, if that is okay?”

Caleb, already propped up between the two of them, was extending enough trust to allow this after months of time getting to know them. But he still felt the need to let them know he was about to be entirely helpless, in case they did not want to assist.

“Of course it is!” Jester chirped immediately, a hint of indignation coloring her tone at the mere suggestion that she wouldn’t be.

“We’ll keep you safe,” Caduceus assured the wizard in a calmer tone, adjusting his grip on Caleb to prove the point.

With a nod, Caleb’s vision shuttered to his familiar’s as the creature wove through the carnage of their battle, searching. It didn’t take long for Frumpkin to locate Yasha hauling Beau to her feet, Fjord and Nott close to them. If Caleb had to guess, the rest of their party was just beyond their current line of sight—not far at all.

Tumbling with much less grace than usual back into his own vision, Caleb found himself still secure and upright between the two clerics. Part of him wanted to pull away, afraid of being a burden. But he knew that they would not easily let him go after a scare.

Besides, he wasn’t sure he could walk on his own just yet.

“They’re just up ahead,” Caleb relayed his findings, gesturing with a nod. “I don’t think anyone is too badly injured.”

“That’s a relief,” Caduceus hummed, a serene smile spreading across his features. “Let’s go round them up, then.”

Without option, Caleb let the clerics guide him toward their party. Jester’s arm around his waist squeezed him briefly, a quiet reassurance. Caleb supposed this was a level of trust he could manage.

He was still trying to figure out why they had agreed to do this job even as he crouched beside Yasha. They were hidden from sight behind a hulking boulder, stalking a group of rather troublesome bandits that had been harassing a nearby town for weeks. This sort of thing was far outside the scope of their usual M.O., but they had done things like this before. It was how they got started—so Caleb supposed there was a factor of nostalgia that played into their presence here.

Still, he wasn’t entirely happy about it. Was it too much to ask for a night off?

That, and they had split up for some stupid reason. Something about flanking that Beau and Nott had agreed on with support from the others, but went a bit over Caleb’s head. Battle tactics had never been his forte if he was honest.

But he was here now.

Okay, Caleb! Jester’s voice in his head made the wizard start, Yasha’s curious gaze sliding his way. We’re all in position. Send Frumpkin out to make sure the bandits are still there and then let Nott know.

There was a pause where Jester went silent, but Caleb could still feel the spell actively thrumming around him. Her voice picked up again, concluding with a rapid, you’re super awesome, before the magic faded.

Lips quirking up at the corner with fond amusement, Caleb snapped his fingers, summoning Frumpkin to his side. For lack of supplies and ideas, his familiar was his preferred domestic cat visage. The fey curled around Caleb’s ankle with a curious purr as the wizard gave telepathic instructions to his familiar. It would be a quick, simple trip for the cat—scan from the edges of the bandits’ camp and get a head count, then return to Caleb.

Frumpkin’s tail flicked against Caleb’s leg before the cat wound himself around Yasha’s ankles and rubbed his head against her calf before darting off into the night. The Aasimar chuckled softly and watched Frumpkin leave, her fingers curled with anticipation around the hilt of her great sword. Caleb could not see far in the near darkness, so he counted methodically to himself until a minute had passed.

Reaching out, he tapped Yasha’s elbow, drawing her eyes his way.

“I’m going to use my cat’s eyes now. Would you mind giving me a shove if anything happens?” Caleb knew that she probably was well aware of how this played out. But out of everyone in the Nein, he had spent the least of his time with her, so he figured covering all the bases was smartest.

Yasha gave him a firm nod and turned her attention to their surroundings, keeping an eye out as Caleb zoned into his familiar’s senses. His cat was already creeping up to the fringes of the camp, staying out of the light and low to the ground. Frumpkin prowled with slow consideration around the perimeter, letting Caleb do a thorough head count of every bandit he could see. Some reports they had gotten in town said there could be anywhere between seven and thirteen bodies. As long as Caleb ended up with a number somewhere between there, he figured they would be as prepared as they could be.

A minute or two later saw Caleb with a count of ten bandits total, most of them gathered around a fire. They seemed to be in the middle of dinner, so Caleb felt secure in thinking that was most, if not all, of them. He was thinking about staying in Frumpkin’s vision as his cat did one last prowl when something shoved at Caleb’s physical body. He could feel his shoulder collide with the rock he and Yasha had been hiding behind, the pain jarring him back to his own sight and hearing abruptly.

Blinking through the daze of pain and trying to readjust his eyes to the lack of light, Caleb pressed back into the rock and tensed in preparation for…something.

As his vision cleared and adjusted to the dim lighting, he could just make out Yasha, less than five feet from him, standing over a body. She pulled her sword free of the body’s gut and turned immediately to Caleb.

“Sorry,” she whispered sheepishly, a spatter of blood streaked across her cheek. “I think this bandit was on patrol and I didn’t notice him until he was about to take a strike at you.”

Her eyes narrowed at Caleb’s stunned expression and she crouched beside him, hiding properly again.

“Are you all right? I gave you a pretty rough shove.”

“Ja,” Caleb managed, finding his voice and still a little stunned. “I am okay, just startled.”

He glanced over at the body again, then back to Yasha and her intense stare. She had pushed him out of the way and took a hit for him, if the new gash on her upper arm was anything to go by. It shouldn’t mean as much to Caleb as it did, because they had been travelling together for quite some time now. This kind of loyalty to each other was almost an expectation—born from a level of trusting each other to have one’s back.

“Danke,” Caleb murmured, Yasha catching the quiet word and giving him that tiny, genuine smile of hers. He had seen it a handful of times in their early travels, back when Molly was still with them. It made fewer appearances now, for obvious reason, but once in a while they could draw it out of her. Beau was often the most successful, as was Jester, so Caleb knew not to take the trust Yasha was extending to Caleb for granted.

There was a simple understanding passed between them in that smile.

Pulling a little copper wire from his coat pocket, Caleb twisted it around his finger and turned in the direction he knew Nott to be hiding.

“I counted ten bandits. Yasha just killed one that snuck up on us, so be wary. You can reply to this message.”

+ I.

He’s not sure when he stopped asking (which is a little disconcerting for someone with perfect recall), but he knows when he noticed.

Trust, for Caleb, was complicated—had been for years. Based on first impressions with the Mighty Nein, Caleb had trusted Beau the least. She had been rude to the point of brutal honesty and was stupendously horrid at having a heart to heart conversation. Or conversation of any kind, until she showed her hand and proved just how intelligent she was.

Which, now that Caleb looked at it in hindsight, is why it made so much sense that he now trusted her the most.

When he had first met her, someone so volatile and prone to crass honesty terrified Caleb—because the only thing Beau lied about was herself. For the Caleb that had been hiding and running on a rinse and repeat cycle, meeting Beauregard was essentially his worst nightmare. But now she was his greatest ally and most trusted confidante. He could rely on her to be honest with him, could trust her to do what was needed, regardless of personal attachment.

So he noticed his lack of hesitancy around her almost immediately after they promised to be the other’s failsafe.

He hadn’t realized it at that moment, but he had extended a fair amount of trust to Beauregard with that conversation. She knew his darkest secrets from early on (for fairly stupid reasons, he might add) and had stuck around despite so. She had kept his secrets, had kept him safe, and understood him on a level he wasn’t sure he was ready to be known on. But if Caleb knew anything about Beauregard—and he knew quite a lot—it was that she was skilled in the art of getting what she wanted.

If she wanted to know Caleb, not even he could stop her.

It was not long after that he picked up on his habit of reaching for her shoulder. If he felt unsteady, Caleb could find her within reaching distance. Beau’s shoulders were young, but they were strong. Caleb would never dream of saddling her with his burdens, but Beau often offered to help him carry them, whether or not he asked. And it was that ease of support, that unconditional stability, that made it so easy to trust her at his most vulnerable.

Time and time again Caleb would shift over to Frumpkin and his hand would land on Beau’s shoulder, no questions asked. She had yet to shake him off, probably never would, and Beau never complained.

It was such a simple gesture to build a foundation of reliance and trust upon, yet here they were.

The Nein were clustered together, more conspicuous than they wanted to be, but too unfamiliar with the town to move apart. Caduceus had made a casual mention that he thought they were being followed, and they were trying to make a plan. Jester and Veth were acting as though they were window shopping, chattering excitedly between each other while the rest of them loitered and tried to glimpse their tail. They were near the outskirts of the market district, so foot traffic was a little less dense, but still they were having trouble getting a decent look.

Caleb snapped his fingers and Frumpkin slunk into surreptitious existence around Caleb’s ankles, pressing his little head against the wizard’s leg. Telepathically instructing his feline companion in the direction Caduceus had mentioned, Caleb automatically extended his hand to Beau’s shoulder. Curling his fingers firmly over her sturdy shoulder, the monk didn’t even look at him as her hand reached up on instinct to grab onto Caleb.

Lips quirking up at the familiar gesture, Caleb shuttered into Frumpkin’s eyes as the cat trotted in the pursuer’s direction.

A quick glance offered Caleb the information he needed and Frumpkin was close enough for Caleb to call him back before getting too involved. Sliding back into his own senses, the wizard looked around their group as he spoke, hand still planted with firm reliance on Beau’s shoulder.

“I believe we merely have a beggar on our heels.”

“I’ve got it then,” Caduceus grinned, heading back the way they came. Fjord gave Beau and Caleb a concerned look and immediately followed the cleric, just to be safe. The rest of them stayed behind in front of the shop, not wanting to overwhelm the situation.

Nott and Jester seemed to have found something of genuine interest in the store window, still chattering away. They had somehow roped Yasha into looking with them as the Aasimar bent over to peer in the store window at whatever they found. Caleb watched on with fondness, taking a solid minute to realize that he still had his hand on Beau’s shoulder.

Beau, to her credit, was still holding onto Caleb’s hand. Her intense blue eyes tracked Caduceus and Fjord just down the street from them, even as she offered Caleb her stability. He admired her vigilance, giving her shoulder a squeeze to catch her attention.

“You okay, man?” Beau asked, giving him a quick scan.

“Ja,” Caleb reassured easily. “Danke, Beauregard.”

“For what?”

Caleb just smiled at her, giving her shoulder another squeeze before releasing it. Her hand slipped from his as she gave him a funny look, but he knew her well enough. Caleb could see the affection underneath all her posturing. Their simple promise to keep each other on the right path had yielded a bond they both never knew they needed. It had taken them a while to embrace it, but constant exposure often sped these types of things along - and Caleb wouldn't trade what they had for the world.

He watched her walk off a moment later, heading to stand with Caduceus and Fjord, and trusted her to come back.

#cr #critical role #writing #my writing #empire kids #empire siblings #caleb widogast #beauregard lionett #fjord #jester lavorre #mollymauk #mollymauk tealeaf #caduceus clay #yasha #yasha nydoorin #nott the brave #veth brenatto #frumpkin

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joaquinfeed · 5 years ago

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ABC’s of Arthur Fleck (fem!reader)

A/N: I’m not sure if this has been done before many times, so sorry if it’s repetitive. I saw this prompt list online and thought ‘why not?’ ALSO. I don’t know who to credit for the list. So, if you know…tell me and I’ll give credit where it’s due! :)

A = affection (how affectionate are they in day to day life? Do they show affection publicly or keep that more in private?)

It’s no secret that Arthur is touch starved. He is always finding some way to show you his deep and meaningful affection for you. He’s not used to public display’s, and he likes to keep you all to himself, so he’ll typically opt for private moments over public ones. He absolutely adores playing with your fingers, placing soft kisses on your neck, or drawing patterns across your skin. He has to feel you to know that you’re really there.

B = best memory (what is the best memory they have with you)

Arthur finds something new every day that he swears will be his favorite memory. He cherishes every single moment with you, even the little arguments, because it all reminds him how much you love him. If he was forced to choose, he would say that his favorite memory is the first time he opened up about his mental illnesses to you. You, of course, were incredibly supportive and patient. He had never felt so loved before in his life.

C = cat or dog person (this is pretty obvious)

Arthur loves all animals, but he has always wanted a little kitten. They are playful, but not too hyper. They also don’t require as much care, and Arthur already has a lot on his plate. Although you’ve never talked about it, he secretly hopes you both will get a pet one day.

D = dreams (what do they want to do in life?)

Besides spreading joy and laughter, his biggest dream has already come true. If Arthur could, he’d spend the rest of his life making sure that you’re happy. He wasn’t sure if he’d be a good father or not, but if a baby was something you wanted or desired, he would put every last inch of effort into making that a reality when the time is right. He barely believes that you love him unconditionally, let alone another little human. He would be grateful either way.

E = evenings (how do they spend their evening? Do they go out? Do they read?)

Arthur’s perfect evening would go like this: cuddle with you, cook you some dinner, practice his standup routine to see your pretty little smile, cuddle with you, watch the Murray Franklin show, and then cuddle with you. He couldn’t get enough of your arms around him, and if he had to save up a little extra money to buy a few more soft sweaters (just so you would lay your head on his chest), so be it. Let it be known that he’s also not opposed to spending the evening in the bedroom. He can always watch Murray another time.

F = first date (what was it like?)

It was a little awkward for the both of you. Arthur was still so new to dating, and he didn’t want to do anything wrong. Plus, neither of you are rolling in money, and so you just stayed in at Arthur’s apartment. He cooked a nice meal for the both of you, put on a Charlie Chaplin film, and introduced you to his mother, Penny. It was unconventional, all over the place, and different from what you were expecting. However, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. The night was very Arthur, and it only made you fall harder.

G = giggle (what is their laugh like? What makes them laugh?)

He has different types of laughs. Some fill you with absolute adoration and joy. Others fill you with sadness and pain. His attacks come when he’s feeling anxious, dissociative, or under-appreciated. His beautiful, real laugh comes out while watching Murray, joking around with one another, and when he plays practical jokes on you. You taught him a few pranks because you knew they would make him happy, and boy did they. Switching sugar for salt is funny, but only the first time.

H = hugs (do they like hugs?)

He LOVES hugs. He likes ‘goodbye, I’ll see you after work’ hugs. He adores ‘we just had a fight, and I’m really sorry’ hugs. He fonds over ‘I missed you so much’ hugs. He feels lucky to get ‘it’s okay, I’m here for you’ hugs. But his favorite hugs are ‘there’s no reason, I just wanted to be near you’ hugs. Yeah. He loves hugs.

I = instrument (do they play an instrument?) Arthur doesn’t play an instrument. When he was a child, he never had the time or money to learn. As an adult, he thinks it’s too late to try and get into the hobby. He figures he probably wouldn’t be very good at it. You assure him though, if he wants to try, you’ll find a way to make it happen. He feels music deep within him, and you know he’d be a wonderful musician.

J = joy (what brings them joy in life?)

You do. Nothing brings more happiness to Arthur’s life than you. Your smile, your laugh, the way you look at him. It’s all so overwhelming sometimes. Not many other things bring him to pure joy; Gotham hasn’t been kind to him. However, the city almost seems like Heaven when you’re around.

K = kisses (what kind of kisser are they? Shy? Passionate?)

It depends. When Arthur is feeling confident, he can take charge and definitely get caught up in the moment. His first priority is pleasing you. Early on in the relationship, he was incredibly shy. He felt like he would break you, or scare you away if he touched you too much. He’s come a long way, but he still has days where all he can give are small, timid kisses. Either way, you love them.

L = love (how do they act when they have a crush)

Arthur doesn’t mean to, but he’s pretty obsessive. As soon as he set his sights on you, he knew he had to be near you. It took him awhile to get the courage to actually talk to you, but he admired you from afar quite a bit.

M = memory (what’s their favourite memory?)

Again, Arthur loves every memory with you in it. His childhood memories weren’t exactly pleasant, and life before you was…difficult. He can’t wait to spend the rest of his life creating new memories with you.

N = no (what is their pet peeve?)

His biggest pet peeve is unkind behavior. Sure, he hates when people are so mean to him. Especially when he’s only been kind to the people of Gotham. But no. Unkind behavior to himself was one thing, but unkind behavior to you? It made him livid. If someone was rude, said a snarky comment, or harassed you in any way, he would furiously write his feelings down in his journal. So much so that his therapist asked when his joke diary turned into a Y/N diary. He just blushed at that.

O = occupation (what’s their dream job?)

It’s always been Arthur’s dream to be a comedian. Well, except for that one brief moment when he was a child when he wanted to be a pirate. But he doesn’t talk about that. He knows just how cruel this world can be, and he wants to spread love and joy as much as he can. What better way than making people laugh?

P = parent (what kind of parent would they be?)

Arthur would be a…nervous parent. During the pregnancy, he would be constantly afraid that you or the baby would get hurt. Not to mention, he’s read stories about women dying during labor.

It terrifies him to think of that.

After you and the baby were safely home, he would always make sure you both were happy and healthy. He often wrote his worries down about parenting in his notebook. A few of them being: “What if my kid thinks im as weerd as other people do?” “My baby mite have some of the same mental illnesses as me. Maybe insomneea.” Arthur also knows how bad he is at spelling. What if his child needed help with their homework? Would he be smart enough to do so? Would his kid be embarrassed by him? These thoughts often plagued Arthur’s mind. He kept it to himself for now though; he didn’t want to worry you.

Q = questions (do they believe in the super natural? Aliens? Anything along those lines)

Arthur doesn’t even know what’s real in the natural world around him. Or at the very least, he questions it quite a bit. He spends too much of his time trying to convince himself that you’re real; he hasn’t had time to think much about ghost or aliens.

R = romantic (are they romantic during the relationship?)

Of course he is romantic. He gets discouraged by his gestures, and he wishes he could do more for you. He hopes every day that you’re not disappointed in him (you aren’t). He loves cooking you good meals, buying you flowers when he can, or taking an extra shift at HaHa’s in order to buy you a gift. He’s seriously considered selling his Charlie Chaplin movie collection to take you out to a fancy dinner. The only reason he hasn’t is because he knows you’d be upset if he did.

S = smile (what makes them smile without fail)

Is this even a question? YOU! When you’re smiling, Arthur’s smiling. The Murray show often makes him smile too, but he still loves you more. (You hope!)

T = together (how clingy are they? How long do you two spend together per day on average)

He’s pretty clingy. Being apart from you for too long makes him anxious. You’re the one who grounds him and makes him think positively. Without you, all he’s got is himself and his thoughts. Both of which, can lead him down a spiraling path. He prefers to be with you at any hour he can; if he could spend all 24 hours with you, he would.

U = unbearable (what habit do they have that’s unbearable? What habit do you have that they find unbearable?)

You love Arthur, but you hate how insecure he is. You’re patient because it makes sense, and you understand him. However, you wish more than anything that Arthur could see just how beautiful and amazing he is. You hate when he talks down about himself; after all, that’s the man you’re in love with. As for you, he likes everything about you. The only thing that irritates worry’s him at times is your need to make sure he’s okay. You’ve nearly fought people who are blatantly rude to him, and it upsets him to know that you could be hurt in the process.

“I’m not worth it,” he’ll tell you.

There’s that self-doubt again.

V = videos (do they take lots of videos or photos during your relationship?)

You don’t really take any videos; neither of you have the money to spend on a video camera. You do have a polaroid camera that you’ve kept with you, and you love taking pictures of Arthur. Pictures of his face are scattered around your apartment. Sometimes you’ll take pictures of yourself too and tape them where he can find them. It helps remind him that you’re real, and you love him.

W = wedding (what will the wedding be like?)

The wedding is small. Neither of you even expected to get married when you did. Arthur decided it was time to marry you, and so he asked. He saved up money for months to buy you a ring. The ring still wasn’t all that big, but you didn’t care one bit. It was beautiful to you. His speech was short and sweet, complete with nervous stutters and blushes.

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t buy you something better,” Arthur blushed, looking a little ashamed at the small ring he held in his hand. “But-but I wanted to marry you now. Or, I wanted to ask you. Shit! I didn’t- I didn’t ask you. Do- do you want to marry me?”

It was perfect. You both were so excited to marry one another that you couldn’t care less about the actual wedding process. That night, and way into the morning, you both surely had fun celebrating your love.

X = eXtra (what’s an interesting fact about them that they don’t tell anyone about?)

The 1920′s silent film Treasure Island made him want to be a pirate when he was younger. He thought he would go on adventures, find treasure, and sail the open seas. As a kid, that looked like ultimate freedom.

Y = yuck (what do they hate? Could be a food, scent, word, anything)

Arthur hates bully’s. He also hates when you shrug after he asks you something important about yourself. For example, all the times he asks what’s wrong, or why you feel insecure, or if you think you’re beautiful, and you shrug? Yeah, he hates that. He knows you might just need some time, but he doesn’t like to see you upset.

Z = zzzz (how heavy of a sleeper are they? How do they sleep? What mood do they wake up in? Really any sleeping headcanons)

Arthur is a heavy sleeper when he can actually fall asleep. Because of his insomnia, he has a hard time getting to sleep and staying asleep. You often find yourself awake with him, keeping him company or stroking his hair until he’s tired again. When he does get a few hours in, you try to be as quiet as humanly possible so you don’t wake him up. Arthur loves falling asleep with you tucked into his side, or he into yours. He has to admit, he’s never slept more peacefully than with you by his side.

#joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix joker #joker #joker 2019 #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck imagine #joker imagine #joker x reader #joker x you

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