#affectionate towards a seldom few

[wolfywolfy]

I love Astarion so much he is so fucking silly. He acts all suave and mysterious and he's very good at it, but the second you catch him off guard and he's just acting like himself he is straight up fucking goofy. The way he goes "oh, hello!" and waves at you while reading The Necromancy of Thay. The way he points at the bomb gnome and says "let's not do anything hilarious!" before she can blow you all up. The fact that when hes confronted by the Gur in Act 3 (which realistically be KNOWS you can all take care of if he really wanted to) he just goes "ohIthinkwe'reintrudinglet'sleave,quickly".

And so many more. He is just so silly!!!!! There's a man there who is genuinely goofy and kind underneath it all, he just has to deal with so much bullshit on a daily basis!!!

[acupofqueercoffee]

“Fires of Fidelity”

Rhaenys Targaryen x Female Reader

wc : 4800+

cw : ambiguous relationships // description of violence which i wouldn’t call graphic but it depends i guess // there’s smut towards the end, also not very explicit but then again, it depends :’)) // i am OBSESSED with her hair, so it would only make sense that my reader is also obsessed

rook’s rest doesn’t exist for me 🥰 fuck rook’s rest, and happiest of birthdays to my absolute badass of a queen 🥳🎂 but fuck her too (affectionate)

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The market is teeming with hustle and bustle of common folks. A cacophony of vendors shouting and shoppers strolling around, alongside an undertone of your lady’s heeled boots kissing gravel throbs inside your ears, softened only by the cloak that you are currently shrouded under.

Overhead, clouds hang heavy, a grim portrait of gloomy greys and ivory whites, the sun but a vague presence in the silver-lined edges. No shadows paint the ground aside from you who is hot on your lady’s heels. Everywhere she walks, you follow, akin to a shadow perpetually casted on the ground.

Meanwhile, a few children scamper around you, shouting, laughing, and one comes astray, collides with your lady before she continues scurrying on her jolly little way, blissfully unaware. The sudden jostle has the precarious effect on the body in front of you for you notice the break in rhythm of the feet that are taking graceful steps. All at once, you are directly behind her, the gentle sway of her body braced by a stable palm across her back.

“Careful, Prin-” Eyes, a milky-way of green and brown, render you quiet. You are, after all, accompanying your Princess on her covert little trip to town.

Nevertheless, a token of her gratitude follows in the form of the tiniest hint of a smile that beautifully graces her features. Disguised beneath the cloak though her head is, given the close proximity of your bodies, you are granted an audience with wisps of moon-kissed locks caressing the delicate plane of her forehead.

“Walk next to me.” She says, and donning a playful smile, you drop a whisper directly into her ears. “As my lady commands.”

Aloofness shrouds her mien, lips a firm line, although it is not lost on you that there is a twinkle in her eyes, the cause of which dawns on you as soon as a sly hand disappears into the privacy of your cloak. Two of her digits waste no time in pinching your flesh through the fabric of your cloth. Pain blossoms, bringing with it a small wince to your face.

When her fingers remain unrelenting, a grumble flies past your lips, “I jest. I jest.” And only then does she relent with a hum, feet never faltering as you walk abreast, her body the very picture of cool and collected save a smile touching her lips.

“I have promised gifts for my granddaughters. What do you think would delight them?”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m the worst person you could have turned to for such suggestions.”

“Indulge me, then. Go on.”

Ever the woman of queenly manner, even her cadence oozes charisma. It colours your cheeks rosy, bringing forth memories from which the delightful utterance has graced your ears under more intimate circumstances.

“I don’t know.” You begin by clearing your throat, a shrug on your shoulders as you walk. “Perhaps a kiss on their cheeks would suffice? I know for a fact that it would delight me greatly.”

Being both a Princess and a Dragonrider, your lady looks every bit the epitome of poise and gravitas. Seldom does she wear her emotions on her face, head held high and spine ram-rod straight, always an enchanting enigma except to trained eyes which, as a matter of fact, are few and far between, although an aura of authority is effortlessly, perpetually crowned on her Targaryen head. However, having spent a better part of your years by her side, during formal as well as more personal occasions, you have mastered the art of unravelling the subtleties of her features and nuances of her words.

It is how you find yourself now, raising a hand in faux surrender along with a defensive arm across your waist by merely a slight tilt of her head and a gaze to your face.

“Again, I jest.”

In the vicinity of the place where you currently stand, a ruckus suddenly arises, a heated argument between two vendors, it appears, which quickly fans the flames of a full-blown uproar. A crack of thunder is a prelude to the heavy drizzle that descends upon the crowd as fists are thrown, and like a carcass attracting vultures, the fight lures those who have an innate thirst for violence.

While the chaos unfolds, your sole focus is solemnly fixed on the Princess by your side, all the more so because a plethora of people are darting around in panic. You do not know, have no time to seek what your lady’s wishes are as instinct forces you to act. Taking her waist in your arm, you tuck her body into a nook as delicately as possible.

A desperate attempt on your part to narrowly escape the wagon that whizzes past leaves your bodies fitted together, your lady’s back pressed against the wall with your hand behind her head softening the impact. Her breath caresses your face, and the perfumed air is tentalising, fruity with sweet floral notes alongside something that is entirely her.

Meanwhile, the downpour has become more merciless, and you commit to memory the way raindrops cling to her lashes like tiny diamonds.

“Have anyone ever told you that you have such beautiful eyelashes, Princess?”

An arch of an eyebrow accompanies the dainty little rain-soaked lips as they curve into a dizzying smile.

“Evidently, I have.”

“So it seems.” You chuckle, step away, although not before you have adjusted her cloak in such a way that it will offer her face more protection against the rain. “I’m afraid you’ll have to cut your trip short, my lady.”

“It would appear so.”

“Shall we return to the castle then?”

Rivulets of rain travel down your cheeks, and your lady invites herself into your space, mirroring your movement from a while ago as fingers fix the hood on your head, supple in their movements.

“Yes, let’s return home.”

Home.

Home to you is not a place, but rather, a person. A person to whom you have sworn loyalty, to protect, to kill for, and should the need arise, to give your life for. Simply put, your home is by your Princess’s side, and hence, the subtle admission that the castle is as much a home to you as it is to her becomes the culprit behind the joyful little swell of your heart.

The short journey back to the castle is taken by way of a detour, in which you lead your lady through quiet alleyways, except that they are too deserted, almost suspiciously so. Once you reach the town square, you guide your lady to the exit on the other side, a hand on her back as you match her pace.

Beyond the archway, a hooded person is looming out of the darkness, and no sooner have you registered their dubious presence than your hand is grabbing your lady’s waist to urge her behind your body.

“Well, well, look who we have here.”

You recognise the voice to be that of a person from your life before your Princess, a thug who has had unsavoury history with you.

“I don’t have time for your tomfoolery.”

Mockery drips from your lips as you turn, taking your lady by her arm to leave through another archway, but to your vexation, you find that more hooded hooligans have obstructed your path. Hidden beneath your cloak is a sword attached to your hip. Closing your fingers around the hilt of it, you scan your surroundings with a surreptitious move of your eyes. There is a total of five people, six if you include the man standing behind you.

“Don’t you mean, you have no time at all because you see, me and my boys, we’re about to end you right here.”

He taunts you with his words, his insufferable tone grating on your nerves, and irked, you unsheathe your sword, just in time to swivel on your feet and parry his slash, a clang echoing through the alley when your blades collide. At the same time as you hold your stance, a strong kick is unleashed to his chest. The force of it sends him sprawling across the ground, and you let loose a snicker.

“All bark and no bite, eh?”

From your left and right, two of his lapdogs charge at you, and your blade effortlessly cuts through the air in a blur of sharp counterattacks and swift manoeuvres. You make quick work of them, one stab through the abdomen, another through the chest, and they are nothing but marionettes severed of strings, drowning in a pool of their own blood. Following in the wink of an eye is a shower of three more swords that descends upon you in full force, and you block them with your blade, raised horizontally above your head. No matter how well-trained you are, the combined strength of three against one is proving to be a little beyond your endurance.

Your knee has barely braced against the muddy ground when all of a sudden, one of your opponents drops dead, the Velaryon seahorse adorned hilt of a dagger which is embedded in his back letting you know that it has been a product of your lady’s great finesse.

Until now, all of their attention has been fixated on you, but now that your lady has divulged her capabilities, the two lapdogs disperse, one rushing towards your lady with a cry while the other swings his blade at you with renewed vigour. Every inch of your body screams at you to rush to your lady’s side, but the wretched little demon in front of you is giving you no leeway, lavishing you with onslaughts upon onslaughts of attacks, one of which, in your desperation to end him quickly, manages to catch you in your cloak.

“Stay focused, tigress.” As if sensing your distress, your Princess calls out to you. “Don’t worry about me.”

One touch of her voice and fire meets gasoline, the flame within you burning so fiercely that you let out a loud roar.

“Come on! Come at me, you cunt of a coward!!”

Having his feather ruffled by your gibe, he charges at you once more, but when the blade comes, rather than avoiding it, you catch it between your arm and body, trapping the sword and its wielder in place as you push your blade through his chest so hard that a good few length of it escapes through his back. Blood pours out of his sorry little mouth, and retrieving your sword from his body effectively drops him to the ground.

Your lady’s strikes, not as refined though they are as yours, can easily withstand a vermin whose attacks are disorganized at best. Furthermore, she is swift on her feet, wielding the agility of a crane whereas you possess the strength of a tigress, or so your Princess has whispered into your ears, your strikes always heavy, deep and precise.

Speaking of the Princess, your gaze catches her in time to feast your eyes upon her magnificence. The vermin has swung his blade at your lady, but she has gracefully swept down, and before he can recover, her dagger has made his stomach its temporary case, a snug fit. You watch, morbidly fascinated, as blood spills forth the hole once she pulls out her weapon before bestowing another swift stab upon his neck.

Out of five lapdogs, two lie dead at the hands of your lady, and three at yours which leaves only the old hound who at present, is eyeing you with contempt. When he starts advancing however, instead of lunging at you, he opts for your Princess, but having predicted his dirty, old tricks, you easily intercept, swift and light on your feet as your blades clash. You dance around each other in an exchange of onslaughts until once again, you are forced to maintain a firm stance to keep his sword from bearing down on you.

The rain has thinned and through the clouds, the sun’s rays has spilled across Driftmark. In the corner of your eyes, you discern a glint. You notice it a second too late though because one moment, both of his hands are keeping a firm grip on the blade, and the next, one hand has disappeared into his cloak to retrieve a hidden dagger. Nevertheless, his strength barely wavers, and so engrossed in keeping the looming threat at bay you are that you have not been able to stop in time the dagger that stabs you.

Although its sharp tip has scarcely pierced your flesh before you lock your fingers around his wrist, the struggle that pursues leaves a crimson slash across the plane of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you swallow the pain in fear that it will upset your Princess who apparently has seized the opportunity to deliver cuts to the backs of his knees. Immediately, he falls to the ground with a grunt. Meanwhile, you waste no time in kicking the dagger away from his hand and throwing his blade across the square.

“Bagged yourself another degenerate like yourself, huh? Or did you whore yourself out?”

You are not as perturbed by him making a ridicule out of you as you are livid by his insults towards your lady, but when you have poised to throw a punch to his face, a gentle hand on your arm stops you.

Pulled free of the hood and kissed by sunshine, a waterfall of liquid starlight almost appears to be glowing.

“Lady wife of the Sea Snake.”

She remains silent at his observation, staring him down, but something about him not addressing your lady by her individual title rubs you the wrong way. Still, you will not interfere, for after all, you dance to your lady’s every desire.

Entwined hands resting just below her waist, your Princess has donned intimidation as though it is regalia, a goddess to be worshiped oozing effortless allure.

“I- I didn’t know. Have mercy.”

“I can be merciful if I so choose, but I can’t in good conscience have a vengeful man pouncing on my sworn shield at every chance he gets. And what’s more, you have thrown insults to my face. I could have your tongue for it.” She blinks, sly and languid, slow and deliberate, alongside a small tilt to her head. “So, what do you propose I do, hm?”

“My tongue. If- if it would appease you-”

The old hound in the face of the dragon is like a lamb to the slaughter, grovelling at the feet of the exalted creature who slowly approaches him.

“Insults are insignificant.” So, she drawls, and before he can register a word, a dagger has been plunged so deeply into his throat by way of his mouth that blood gurgles. “Keep your tongue.”

A squelch accompanies the recovery of the dagger. While she wipes it clean off blood on his cloth, you carry out your own retrieval of her other dagger buried in the back of another body. It, too, is wiped clean before being sheathed on her hip.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Your question is answered with a query. “Are you?”

Her gaze, beneath the dapple of daylight, holds the warmth of sunlit amber, flecked with whispers of forest green, and when it caresses your body from head to toe in silent observation, the wound hidden beneath your cloak throbs in harmony with the beat of your heart.

“I am.” You say, and your lopsided grin garners a small smile in return. “It’s high time we returned home then.”

It is only when you have escorted your lady into the safety of her castle that your false bravado comes to light. Your fingers touch your stomach and they come away wet, viscous, and overwhelmingly red. While you are lost in your head, the voice that caresses your ears comes in the form of your name, and you look up to find your lady standing in front of you.

Stickiness clings to your palm as you curl your digits into a fist, but your sorry excuse of an attempt is proven futile when lithe fingers lock around your wrist. A tug coupled with a look from her is all it takes for your fist to pour open. You can almost pinpoint the exact moment when realisation dawns on her, in the delicate lines on her face that have all but calcified into rocky plains.

“Uncloak.” Her tone harbours an icy ring to it by the time she speaks, releasing your hand at the same time, although when you stand unmoving, she demands instead. “Now.”

Pulling your dark cloak open reveals to your lady the cut across your stomach in all its scarlet, grisly glory. There is a twitch to her jaw as well as a tiny tilt to her head, and when she looks at you, a tempest brews in her eyes, but beneath the blaze of storm-tossed sea, dark and churning with a blazing anger, you find a shadow of concern.

“Pay a visit to the Maester, get it treated, and by nightfall, I want you in my chambers.”

And so, that is how you find yourself in your lady’s chambers after getting the crimson slash properly cleaned, stitched and wrapped in fresh linens at the masterful hands of House Valeryon’s Maester.

The door shuts with a soft click, and a greeting falls past your lips.

“Princess.”

You have crossed paths with her handmaiden in the corridors leading up to the chambers, and she must have helped your lady get ready for bed, you conclude, for the Princess is now comfortably clothed. Oddly enough however, her braids are not yet unwoven which is how you find her now, sitting in front of her vanity desk, a waterfall of white silk flowing down her back.

As if possessing a mind of their own, your legs carry you towards your lady before depositing you directly behind her back. Immediately, reverently, your fingers make a descent onto the intricate little bun perched atop her head, during which the Princess regards you silently through the mirror’s reflection. With much delicacy, you unbind the thick braid that is keeping the bun in place, and doing so spills another layer of those silken locks in an effortless cascade down her back.

“You would do well to remember-” It is amidst you undoing one of the smaller braids that her voice graces your ears for the first time since you have set foot in her chambers. Meanwhile, her gaze finds yours in the mirror. “-that your fealty to me is to no avail should you lie wounded and are unable to fulfill your duties.”

“But what good is a sworn shield who cannot…well…” With a sigh, you drop your gaze to your hands before seeking her eyes once more. “…shield?”

“And what good is a sworn shield who cannot stand?”

“I am perfectly capable of standing though.”

“Are you?”

And then, she is turning on her seat, a lock of her star-kissed hair slipping through your fingers like liquid silver, as she seizes you by your tunic. In the wink of an eye, dainty lips collide with your own, all but sucking your soul out of your body, and your witty remark, which you have been intending to let loose, dissolves on her tongue altogether.

Such marks the epilogue to your little repartee.

While one hand holds a fistful of fabric, another wanders, ghosting along your thigh to then settle on your stomach, fingertips dancing across the gauze before it grabs your waist. A wicked pad of a thumb presses onto your side, and the outcome is just shy of agony, a whimper being fed into your lady’s mouth as your knees very nearly fail you.

“Kneel.”

With a mere touch of her murmured breath branded so deliciously onto your lips that are presently bearing the fruit of her ardent assaults, you are instantly reduced to a puddle at her feet, eager to worship your goddess.

“Hmm, I thought as much.”

“Well,-” Your tone is tinged with a whine, whereas a smile blossoms on your face. “-that was unfair.”

“Are you questioning your Princess?”

You tuck your face into her stomach, dropping a little kiss onto the spot where you think her navel lies.

“I wouldn’t dare, Princess.”

In the meantime, fingers trace patterns on your cheek, caress the outline of your jaw, and closing your eyes, you revel in the luxurious sensation up until a palm that cradles your face coaxes you out of your sweet sanctuary.

“It would be cruel of me to have you remain kneeling.” As she speaks, her thumb maps each curve and contour of your lips, which, swollen by now, speaks of whispered words and the heady waltz of fervent kisses. “I believe improvisations are in order.”

“Strip.”

And strip, you do, for at present, you stand only in your loose trousers.

Gracefully, tentalisingly, your lady arises, and even though a few braids remain in place, her hair, now freed from its confine, flows freely past her hip, a cascade of luminous waves shimmering like moonlight upon a still lake. Her gaze, on the other hand, is fixed on the linen that is entirely wrapped around your waist. The seepage of blood from the wound paints the white fabric in a vague vermillion which offers a glimpse into the extent of the injury.

“It will heal in no time, my lady.” Your attempt at soothing your lady is received with a gentle threat. “I do not tolerate imprudence. Nor deceit. It would do you well to remember that.”

“I will, Princess. But it doesn’t mean I won’t do it all over again if it concerns your safety.”

“Stubborn as ever.”

“My Princess likes me stubborn though, doesn’t she?”

“With that bold tongue of yours, count yourself lucky that I do.” Although she has leveled you with a glare, the blaze of which can very well put the sun to shame, you smile a cheeky little grin, looking every bit the picture of a cat that has eaten the canary, or rather, a tigress who has eaten the dragon. “That I agree. My tongue is capable of doing unimaginable wonders after all.”

You feel her hands move, and fearing that her fingers are once again going to subject you to those ruthless torments, you quickly raise your hands in surrender. She proves you wrong however by snaking her fingers into the waistband of your trousers.

“These need to go too.”

Your Princess has said her command, and like the very devotee that you are, your hands make swift work of getting rid of the only piece of clothing that is covering your body. Meanwhile, what enters your line of sight is a heap of white fabric that pools at your lady’s feet.

A breath catches in your throat, your heart beating with an awe so profound that it borders on reverence. She is a nymph of old tales, a creature of myth sung by the bards, born of the elements and graced with the beauty of the divine. Her presence, lucid and otherworldly at the same time, seems to draw the very light towards her, bathed in a halo of celestial radiance.

Your lady’s bare frame, delicate and strong, speaks of both grace and power, a goddess in her own right. It is a sight that will never tire you, and despite having seen it before, you are awed anew by such glorious vision. Your gaze lingers, admiring the soft curves and the rise and fall of her chest, enthralled by the sheer wonder of her existence that stirs the deepest corner of your soul.

Fascinated, you go to take her hips in your hands, but a push from her, and pliantly, you let yourself fall onto the mattress, for after all, a dragon will always be a dragon no matter the circumstances. You have not so much as blinked when she climbs atop the bed to straddle your body, toned thighs, befitting a dragon-rider of her caliber, on either side of your ribcage.

Your lips collide.

Amidst the clash of tongues and teeth, your hands find home on her waist, flesh supple and soft beneath your fingertips, as you move to sit up, lifting your lady slightly to reposition her on your lap, a special throne fit for your Queen.

Wetness oozes, and as soon as you feel the heat of her core on your thigh, you moan, but given that you are locked in place by a hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and an arm around your neck, it tumbles directly into her mouth. There is a sway to her hips, her essence coating your flesh, and all too eagerly, you encourage the dragon-rider to ride your thigh to her heart’s content, hands sliding into the delicious little dip of her waist as you help her maintain the rhythm that she has set.

Her lips part from yours with a delectable little mewl. Those delicate buds, once dainty, now beautifully bears the bloom of passion’s visit. Each swell hints at the fervor of love’s embrace, leaving them a charming, rosy hue, a testament to moments of rapture. Coated in a layer of dew, they glisten softly in the warm glow, as if kissed by dawn itself, promising the sweet ache of desire.

Like a siren’s call, they lure you, and enchanted, you give in, raising a hand to gently trace the curve of her lips beneath your fingertips. A gasp escapes your lips once your wrist is caught in her hand. Another catches in your throat when two of your fingers are sucked into her mouth.

Every ridge and bone is visited by a velveteen tip of a tongue, licking, prodding, and by the time she guides your hand between her legs, your fingers are as equally soaked as her core. They slip inside smoothly to be enveloped in luxurious softness. Curling your fingers into a cruel, little curve seems to drown your lady in sweet suffering if the way her forehead falls atop your shoulder to muffle the sounds, that very nearly spill out of her, with a bite to your flesh is any indication.

Beneath the soft folds of her belly, you can see muscles straining, hidden little pearl, hard and sensitive, grinding against your palm to seek friction. Meanwhile, your love-struck gaze is busy admiring the lovely little freckles that are scattered across her chest, a spillage of stars, and upon chasing them with your lips, syrupy sweet kisses blossom in their wake.

The sight of her trembling frame as she rides your fingers is a scene worthy to be immortalised in art form, but at the same time, you frankly doubt that bards and painters all across Westeros can truly do your lady’s ethereal beauty justice. Swelling to near bursting with adoration, you hold her to your chest, fingers doing their job in the warm cavern of her core, and in doing so, you earn yourself a nibble to your neck, lips closing around your pulse point, sucking, kissing.

Hot air escapes your mouth as you bury your nose in the healthy mane of her hair.

“You seem awfully fond of my hair, tigress.” She pants, whereas you smile, nuzzling her silky strands that are not only smooth but also addictively fragrant. “Fond is an understatement, Princess.”

“What is it, then?”

“Love.”

“You love my hair?”

You abandon your happy, little haven in favour of taking her face in your hand. Tiny pearls of sweat blooms on her forehead while her lips are slightly parted. A knit occupies the space between her eyebrows while her eyes, usually an intense hazel brown, are now hazy with hunger.

“I love you,-” It is into the delicate lines forming at the corner of her mouth that you breathe your admission. “-and everything you have to offer.”

She says nothing, but you doubt even a thousand spoken words will be capable of touching you the way you feel deeply touched by being made aware of the effect it has on her in the fluttering of her folds as they clench your fingers. Your lady has died that sweet little death in your embrace, head collapsing onto your shoulder. It is only when her muscles have relaxed, and her core has released its grip on your fingers that they can finally slip out.

“And my dear tigress.” Fingers lazily toy with your hair. “Yes, Princess?”

“Don’t you dare hide your wounds from me ever again.” Your arms wrap around her body to hold her a little closer, a little tighter, into which she happily melts, rare moments where you can witness her softer, more affectionate side.

Nevertheless, you must have taken too long to her liking because the delicate flesh of your neck falls victim to her teeth.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Although she has left you throbbing in pain, the happiness that swells inside your chest easily prevails over anything and everything, burning so fiercely that you feel as if you can conquer the Seven Kingdoms to offer it to her on a diamond platter. Suppressing your silly little urge, you content yourself instead with a delicate press of a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Delightfully so, Princess.”

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[angelof-thevoid]

Favorite Ship / Supernova

(disclaimer: i hc eris morn with they/them pronouns)

Lately, things have been calm and she got her paperwork for the day done sooner than usual, so with the free time Ikora decided it would be nice to have a spontaneous date. She sends a message to Eris, hoping they aren’t busy at the moment. At least, far as she knew there shouldn’t be anything taking up their time. After a few moments Ikora smiles when her screen lights up with a response.

-

It’s a cool, clear night where you’d swear you could see every star in the galaxy that wasn’t eclipsed by the moonlight. A sight like this wasn’t possible in the last city, and seldom did Ikora get the chance to venture out of it. Duty was a chain and it kept her not too far from the city, but in the rare chances she had the opportunity she wanted to take advantage.

Setting down a blanket on the side of a hill, Ikora places two comfortable, large pillows she had against the incline. Eris patiently stood by, their form illuminated by the light of the moon as they looked up to the sky. She wondered how much hive eyes could pick up on the distant pin-pricks of light, having been told they weren't the same as human ones. If you compared it to human vision, technically you could say they were blind.

Nonetheless, they mentioned their way of “seeing” just works differently now. They still had a sense of their surroundings, even knew the distance between themselves and the moon. An odd thing to be precognitive of but they chalked it up to it being the birthplace of their transformation, when Eris became kin to the very enemy they sought the end of.

How things have changed. Outside of that Eris had a sensitivity to paracausality which gave her a refined sense of other guardians as well as the shape of their light, despite being without. Strange changes, but not without some benefits. Ikora reaches over to gently bump her hand against theirs to catch Eris’ attention without startling them. As if much could startle them anymore.

“Finished?” Eris asks as they turn to look at Ikora who nods, the pair’s hands linking together as they settle onto the cozy patch. They lean back, side by side with hands still intertwined and multiple points of contact between their bodies. Silence hung in the air for a short time as they enjoyed the view, until Ikora broke it with a question. One she had long wondered about since Eris’ ascent from the Hellmouth. 

“Do you miss it?” She softly questions, gently squeezes Eris’ hand with her thumb rubbing against the length of theirs. “Miss what?” They reply after a short second. “The light. What you were, before-” Ikora stops herself choosing not to say the rest. 

A contemplative pause, “It doesn’t matter now, does it? It happened. All I can do is move forward in spite of it.” That solemn answer cuts straight through Ikora’s question with a knife’s edge. She turns her head toward Eris who continues, “Nothing good comes from dwelling on what’s missing.” and then a little quieter. “Do you wish I was unchanged?” 

Ikora frowns and quickly sits up, turning her whole body towards them. “I only wish for you to return from the things you hunt every time, safe and sound.” Eris gazes at her as she leans over to rest a hand against their cheek. “It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re still here.” She gives Eris an affectionate smile.

Eris’ own lips quirk up as they sit up as well, faces hovering inches apart before they make the first move to kiss Ikora. It lasts mere seconds as they slowly break apart but still close enough to feel each other’s breath. “In my darkest, loneliest moments, I miss the presence of your light over mine.” 

To think, after everything that’s happened including losing the light, Eris would rather have Ikora leaves her feeling a certain way. She feels the void open its empty maw in her chest, wanting to devour her heart over the proclamation. “Do you?” Ikora breathes out, letting the void energy trickle through her fingertips against Eris’ cheek.

Eris’ shivers a little from the sensation as they turn their face more into her hand, the ever present dark tears dissipate against Ikora’s radiant light. “I do.” Almost reluctantly, they retreat from the physical contact to look Ikora full on when they ask, “Show me your light.”

It comes out not as a question but like a lover’s request for their partner to share their body. And traveler save her, she finds herself bending easily to it. Usually Ikora wasn’t for unnecessary displays of her light, but she couldn’t resist Eris. So she adjusts into a kneeled position and brings her hands to hover in front of her mid-air.

Fluorescent violet light begins to form in a small, concentrated ball between her hands, steadily growing in size and luminescence. Ikora envisions in her mind pouring the void into a container, particles being shifted in an even circular motion that continues to slowly get bigger. 

It’s the size of a kick ball when she decides to stand up, purple light shining its hue across the two of them. Eris watches the nova bomb increase further and further until Ikora has to lift it over her head and release it up toward the sky, flying up and up to a seemingly impossible height until it explodes like a collapsing star.

Like a firework streaks of void shoot outward from the center and leave glittering trails of void as the bolts try and fail to find a target, thus bursting into smaller showers of purple that sparkle amongst the starry sky. An imprint of the void lingers like the burn of an afterimage from a too bright light.

“Beautiful.” Eris says in appreciation. Ikora sits back down with them as they reach out to grab her hand and trace it, making her shiver in return. She pulls their hand up to her mouth and kisses the knuckles of it, huffing a short laugh. “I’m glad you can still find beauty in the light.”

[lazysublimeengineer]

they said the end is coming (everyone's up to something)

Summary: I find myself running home to your sweet nothings.

One shot sequel from my finished Reosagi fic, “Betrothed.”

Characters: Isagi Y. & Reo M.

(A/N: Please be mindful of the tags. Any other unnecessary complaints or comments will not be tolerated as sufficient warnings were provided in the tags. This one-shot sequel was inspired by the song, ‘Sweet Nothing’ from the Midnights album of Taylor Swift. I don’t own anything from the franchise. Respective ownership belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura for this wonderful manga and Taylor Swift for this beautiful song.)

I spy with my little tired eye Tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July Down deep inside your pocket We almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

“Issei! Is the Oyakodon ready? Yocchan and Reo are both here!” Iyo asked from the living room as she spotted the car by the gate through their windows and heard the honking sound of their car’s horn.

“Yeah! Already put it in on the bowl. You can meet and let them in now!” Issei replied from the kitchen.

Iyo went out of the door to open the gate and greet them.

“Yocchan! Reo! Just in time! Lunch is ready! Come in and park the car at the garage!” Iyo greeted them cheerfully as she opened the gate.

One of the chauffeurs opened the door of the car to let Reo and Isagi step outside of the car.

“Ma! I told you that we can prepare lunch when we get here. No need for you and Pa to tire yourselves out.” Isagi grumbled weakly as he gave her a light hug to which Iyo returned the gesture affectionately and let out a light chuckle under her breath.

“Nonsense! You two are practically our guests now into our home so I don’t want you both stressing yourself out from travelling here.” Iyo chided lightly before she redirected her gaze towards Reo who was bowing deeply at her.

“Okaasan. It’s good to see you.” Reo greeted her primly.

Iyo smiled softly before she approached him and gave him a light hug to which the other froze for a few seconds before he relaxed and returned it gently.

“You’re too formal. No need for that when it’s not the first time that you’ve met me. We’re so glad that you finally come considering on how busy you get.” She replied softly as she let him go.

“Ah, of course I am. It’d be a shame if we don’t get to visit here occasionally.” Reo rubbed his nape sheepishly.

It made Isagi grin slightly. It’s amusing yet adorable to see his own husband sporting an awkward yet genuine expression on his face. It’s different from the Mikage Reo that he presented himself as when he’s the CEO of their enterprise and faced a lot of people. This made him more reachable and saw another side of him that seldom other people see in him.

It made him feel special in a way that other people were not.

“Well, c’mon now you two. Lunch is ready and I’m sure you two are quite tired from the travel going here. Aren’t you going to park your car inside?” She asked.

“Ah, no. We can just call them on another time to pick us up when we leave.” Reo assured her before he faced their chaffeur and driver and gave them a go signal to finally leave to which they did.

“By the way, we have something for you and oyaji from Wicklow. Some knick knacks that you both might find useful and interesting.” Reo handed her a bag of souvenirs smilingly.

“Oh my. Thank you. You and Yocchan have been spoiling us with gifts whenever you visit us.” Iyo accepted the bag and inspected the contents curiously.

“Of course, okaasan. It’s a little treat from both of us whenever you and oyaji prepared something wonderful and delicious to us when we visit here.” Reo chuckled softly under his breath as they finally went inside.

Isagi couldn’t be any happier than the sight alone and wished that this simple and delicate moment could last forever.

They said the end is coming Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

The soft rays of the sunlight came peeking inside the window slowly from the small drape of the curtains on the side.

Reo’s eyes fluttered open and revealed a hazy hue of pomegranate tinted with cloudy sleepiness. He yawned and let his hand reach out to the other side of the bed where Isagi laid.

Only to find it empty beside him.

The remaining drowsiness slipped out of him, and he tried to get up from the bed to find out that he was the only one sleeping on the bed.

Huh?

He must be early again. It’s hard wired for athletes like them to get up early in the morning to start their routinary exercise before anything else even on the weekends.

Reo stretched languidly before he finally stood up and put on some slippers. He went inside the bathroom and gave himself a quick fix before he inspected himself in the mirror and deemed that his appearance was now an acceptable sight.

He finally went out of the room and a sweet, sizzling aroma permeated across his surroundings that made his stomach rumble and mouth water from the delicious smell. He followed the smell to where it was coming from, and it led him inside the kitchen where he found his husband humming softly under his breath while cooking something on the stove.

Reo leaned against the doorframe and watched in silent contentment at the peaceful yet radiant sight before him. He couldn’t contain himself any longer and finally approached him from behind where he wrapped his arms around his middle which earned a surprised squeak from the other.

How adorable.

“Morning. Why didn’t you wake me up hmm?” He whispered throatily as his tongue licked at the shell of his ear.

Reo felt him shiver against his arms and a smirk made its way to his face as he continued his ministrations, now kissing along the crook of his neck.

“And g-good morning to y-you too...” Isagi barely suppressed a breathy sigh and a soft moan from escaping his lips. “Don’t wanna wake you up when you’re sleeping like a baby... And I just want to make some breakfast for us... R-reo... Ngh... Haven’t you’ve had enough already last night...?” He croaked out.

“Hmm? You’re saying something?” Reo murmured distractedly as his eager mouth continued showering kisses along his nape while his hands grew bolder and wandered inside his shirt where he gently caressed his torso and earned a light gasp from the blue-eyed striker.

“Ngh... Reo... Does it have to be now...? Fuck... I’m still cooking here... Also, someone might see us.” Isagi breathed out shakily as one of Reo’s hands slipped out of his shirt and reached for the knob of the stove to turn it off.

“There. All done. And Yoichi-kun, it’s still early in the morning. Probably 5AM and no one would be able to see us here if we keep quiet unless you want an audience in here hmm?” Reo whispered seductively, of course he was just teasing him, he’d stop if Isagi outright said no.

However, it was the polar opposite. With Isagi’s words earlier insisting that he should ceased his bold yet teasing actions, his body said otherwise and seemed to linger more on his touch rather than pulling away.

“Stop being an asshole... We’re in my parents’ home you idiot...” Isagi tried to reprimand him, but it came out as a weak moan as Reo nipped along the sensitive spot on his neck which made him inadvertently closed his eyes and leaned closer to his touch.

“Hmm? I’m not hearing a no from you my dear husband. Just say the word and I’ll stop.” Reo replied lowly.

“Just... damn it... Get on with it quickly.... I’m not saying it again.” Isagi huffed out in a frustrated yet needy whine which made Reo smile against his skin.

Reo finally got to work and hoisted him up on the counter with ease. Isagi was sitting in the corner as Reo opened a lower cabinet to prop his foot on.

Without any wasting time, Reo gripped his hips and spread his legs apart and move in between them, catching his lips in a fiery kiss as he divested off his boxers and gave a one swift, thrust which made Isagi gasped and moaned out simultaneously inside his mouth.

With his insides still warm and slick from the aftermath of a heated night between the two of them in their bedroom previously, he penetrated him with ease and didn’t see the need to prepare him as Isagi’s quivering walls were stretched invitingly and accommodated the wide girth of his cock easily.

Isagi’s hands wrapped around Reo’s neck for leverage and support as he returned his kiss hungrily, letting the other’s tongue plunder inside his mouth and plow him against the counter wildly. His lecherous moans and sinful mewls were swallowed by their open-mouthed kisses.

Isagi’s legs quivered but kept it spread open to accommodate Reo’s throbbing length with his swift yet precise movements inside him which hit and abused his sweet spot repeatedly. This made Isagi’s head spin, and he saw stars in his line of vision.

Reo’s hands gently caressed and squeezed along his hips and thighs before he pulled his mouth away and broke their shared kisses to bite around the other’s shoulder lightly.

“Fuck...! I’m close... God, you’re squeezing me just right Yoichi...!” Reo groaned out against his skin.

“Ah— Ah— Ah— Reo...! Feels good...! Don’t stop please...! I’m c-close t-too...!” Isagi tried to keep his voice low, but he couldn’t stop the series of low moans and grunts of pleasure from escaping his lips.

With a one, last ferocious thrust, Reo’s body quivered and reached his climax, painting his insides with the hot, splashes of his cum. Isagi followed soon right after, a soft moan slipping past his lips as he reached his peak and splashed his load across their chests.

Isagi’s head fell into the other’s chest as he breathed raggedly while Reo loosened his grip on him but kept his hold on his waist for leverage and support as they both gathered their bearings.

“Fuck. If it’s you who’s going to serve my breakfast every morning, I don’t mind you doing it every day.” Reo remarked with a throaty chuckle.

“Shut up you idiot. You owe me a massage later.” Isagi shot back in fond exasperation.

They basked in the afterglow for a few seconds before they heard some shuffling sounds from the outside which made them freeze before quickly pulling apart and hastily putting on their clothes.

“Well, we need to clean this up... sort of little messy in here.” Reo commented as he reached for a rag and a kitchen cleanser inside the cabinet.

“And whose fault is that?” Isagi rolled his eyes playfully before he joined him in cleaning up the mess that they made on the counter.

“I guess I can make some bacon and eggs for today. What do you say Issei? Would they like it for breakfast?” Iyo’s voice from upstairs rang out.

“Maybe. We can probably add some waffles and—.”

Issei stopped midsentence as he spotted Isagi and Reo placing the freshly made breakfast on the table.

Iyo blinked owlishly at the sight as well when they arrived in the kitchen and dining area.

The kitchen looked also pristine and clean.

“Good morning, Ma and Pa. You’re just in time for breakfast.” Isagi said smilingly.

“Come and join us.” Reo piped up cheerfully as well.

“I guess we don’t have to worry about breakfast for today at all.” Issei remarked which made Iyo chuckle softly under her breath as they sat beside each other.

Reo stole a quick but meaningful glance at Isagi and caught his gaze.

Clandestine smiles were shared towards each other.

What a lovely morning for them.

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more" To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

“Do you even know how to do that?” Isagi sighed as he watched Reo placed the plant in the hole and planted it with a soil. The placement of the plant on the ground was not deep enough and was displayed awkwardly under the bright lights of the sun.

“Of course I am! What do you take me for?” Reo made an offended sound at the back of his throat. “I’ll have you know that I took great care of Nagi’s plant back in our heyday!” He added dramatically.

“Which was a cactus.” Isagi deadpanned before he scooted closer to him and took one of his gloved hands which was holding the garden shovel and guided him in adding more soil into the plant.

“You need to plant it deep enough that the top of the root ball is about one inch or something above the surrounding soil. Then add more soil and press it down to collapse any large pockets in the soil.” Isagi stated as his gaze was focused on guiding Reo’s hand in pressing the shovel down the soil that he failed to notice on Reo’s intent gaze on his face.

“So, do you get it now or—.” Isagi stopped midsentence as he finally faced him and clashed his azure irises against his mauve orbs.

Faint, pinkish hues colored his cheeks as he realized how deep Reo was staring at his face and at their proximity.

“Did you even listen or just gawk at me like an idiot?” Isagi grumbled out weakly as he looked away to hide the crimson hues that flooded his face.

A soft smile inched across Reo’s lips as he basked in the sight of his husband who had an adorable yet genuine expression on his face.

He can’t admit it directly to him but this was one of those rare moments that he enjoyed. Maybe the others would quickly surmised that the young heir of the Mikage Corp. Had always enjoyed and valued luxurious vacations and activities with his husband. He did enjoy them yes. As a person who grew up in vast wealth and opulence of their living, he was used to it and living for it. But he treasured more of these simple but memorable moments with him by his side.

When they’re here together, he was simply Reo, and his husband was simply Yoichi as if they’re not the renowned athletes all over the world and one of the most well-known, powerful couple in society magazines.

They’re just here.

A newly married couple who were sincerely enjoying their time together.

God, they’re just like teenagers sometimes who were going out on a date and getting to know each other.

But considering on how they started their relationship backwards, Reo didn’t mind it one bit.

He really didn’t if he’s got to be beside his lovely husband all the time.

“Not my fault if I find my husband being cute like this.” Reo replied playfully before he stole a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Wha—? Hey!” Isagi protested as his face was set aflame at the stolen kiss performed by Reo on his cheek. Sometimes he was still caught off guard by the other’s sudden display of affection, which he didn’t mind of course. He was still wondering how he bagged the Reo Mikage on his arms who was one of the most sought out bachelors of their heyday.

With a sudden streak of confidence striking upon him, Isagi quickly turned around to face and jumped on him which ended up Reo lying on the soft ground of the garden with him on top of him.

Isagi’s eyes fixed on the male’s face before a simple, yet genuine smile broke out of his lips.

As he leaned down and brushed his lips along his in a fleeting yet inviting kiss, he realized that he wouldn’t trade this kind of memory for anything else.

Not when their hearts were tangled with one another for eternity.

They said the end is coming Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

When Isagi tried to balance himself on the surfboard, a huge wave came crashing into him and made him lose his balance and fell off.

He was still coughing up a bit and shook his head off from the sand that caught his damp locks when he heard the light laughter of Reo from the shore which made him huff indignantly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry. I can’t help it. It’s just that your kinda adorable when your washed up by the sea.” Reo raised his arms placatingly before he approached him and took the surfing board from his arms to place it on their spot under the shade.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I know I’m a loser when it came to surfing but you won’t be laughing in the future once I get the hang of it.” Isagi replied petulantly, trying not to sound like a stubborn kid who lost at a game on the playground.

“Now don’t be like that my dear husband.” He chuckled softly before he took him by the arm and gently led him into the secluded, yet calmer side of the sea surrounded by large rocks.

“So, why are we here?” Isagi asked with an arched brow.

“To teach you on how to balance yourself of course.” Reo replied playfully as they both waded the serene waters.

“Right. I can smell your bullshit a mile from here.” Isagi scoffed lightly but there was lopsided grin tugging on his lips.

“I’m trying to be romantic here so stop spoiling the mood.” Reo complained lightly.

“It’s not my fault that you’re such a sap sometimes.” Isagi rolled his eyes playfully before he wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

“I can just can never win with you sometimes.” Reo chuckled softly under his breath before he leaned closer and removed any gap between the two of them by claiming his lips in a deep yet soulful kiss.

Isagi reciprocated ardently, his mouth molding sensually against the other’s lips as he kissed him back passionately, his legs automatically wrapped themselves up on Reo’s hips as his hands tangled themselves on his damp locks and massaged on his scalp.

Reo wasted no time as he gently backed Isagi against a large rock which completely hid their compromising position.

Isagi moaned softly inside his mouth before he pulled away hesitantly and looked around.

“Are you sure no one will find us here?” He asked hoarsely.

Reo grinned playfully. “Of course, Yoichi-kun. I won’t be bringing you to this spot if there’s a bit of a chance that someone might see us. Or maybe you’re into that sort of thing?” He asked teasingly as his lips found their way to the pale column of his throat and showered it with featherlight kisses.

“It’s not that you asshole.” Isagi grumbled weakly as a shiver ran along his spine as he felt Reo’s eager mouth traipsing heatedly along his neck. “I don’t want some paparazzi feasting on us in their tabloids or magazines.” He gasped lightly as one of Reo’s hands found its way on his chest and pinched one of his sensitive nubs.

“Relaxed Yoichi-kun. No one’s gonna find us here and if there was I’ll make sure our glorious bodies won’t even make it to the papers.” He mumbled hotly against his skin and all Isagi could do was to surrender his will and body to Reo as he was getting seductively drunk on his kisses and ministrations alone. His body was reacting traitorously to the other’s proximity and touches and the rational part of his mind was slowly melting away.

“Fuck, you’re incorrigible sometimes.” Isagi groaned out.

“You mean insatiable my dear husband.” Reo briefly looked up and shot him a flirty wink to which Isagi rolled his eyes in fond exasperation.

“Just get on with it. Or do you want your dear husband to do all the work?” Isagi asked lowly.

“As you wish. I’m pretty easy to talk to anyway.” Reo replied huskily before his mouth dove down on his chest and let his mouth lavished heatedly on his skin and let his tongue encircled on one of his nipples and gave it kitten licks before sucking on it in a slow yet sensual manner which earned a half whimper and half moan from the other.

Isagi couldn’t help but to rub himself suggestively against Reo’s body to increase the heated friction between their bodies which earned a groan from the other and made one of his hands travelled down on his thighs near his cock to squeezed invitingly. This made Isagi twitched slightly against him and a soft moan slipping past his lips as a shot of arousal hit him through the roof as Reo’s hands brushed near along his cock inside his swimming trunks.

“F-fuck... R-reo...” His heart stuttered wildly inside his chest as Reo’s mouth and hands continued doing sinful things on his body which made his eyes swirl in pure ecstasy and want, his mind was hazy and faraway as it only wanted to be satisfied by the young heir’s sensuous actions on his body and senses.

“Can’t get enough of you...” Reo murmured distractedly against his skin, his hot breaths leaving a trail of fire in every fiber of his being.

“Reo please... Want more of you...” Isagi whined needily as he bucked his hips against him which earned a guttural moan from the other.

Reo unlatched his mouth from his nipples to look at him with a lazy smirk resting on his lips.

“I like that look on your face Yoichi-kun.” He cooed. “Can you beg again for me?” He added playfully.

A scowl made its way to Isagi’s face as he hit him weakly on his chest. “Shut up you dumbass or you want me to leave you here high and dry?” He tried to maintain the annoyed look on his face, but it was betrayed by his flushed cheeks and swollen lips which was sinfully wet and red from being thoroughly kissed earlier.

“Hey, hey. Now don’t be like that my dear husband. I’m just kidding. You know that I love you right? And I’m always at your beck and call.” Reo replied softly before he leaned down and bestowed a simple but reverential kiss which melted Isagi’s remaining petulance away and clung to him needily, returning his kiss eagerly.

Reo didn’t waste his time as he slipped down their trunks before he stroked his cock and let one of his hands wandered around his plump derriere going to his entrance. However, Isagi’s hand landed on his wrist and stopped him.

“You don’t have to...” He whispered faintly.

“But I need to prepare—.”

“Trust me Reo I won’t be needing it so better get on with it.” Isagi replied as he bit his lip as he looked away, his cheeks dusted off in pink hues as his own words.

Reo blinked owlishly at him as he deciphered his words before his eyes grew wide in realization.

“Don’t tell me...? Before we even get here you... you’ve already prepared yourself...?” He asked breathlessly.

“W-well, I didn’t rule out the possibility that we might get into this kind of situation so it's best to be prepared for anything.” Isagi mumbled under his breath, resisting the urge to hide his face as he could feel his cheeks burning at his admission.

Something flickered inside Reo’s eyes before a low growl escaped his lips.

“You’ve done well my dear husband but next time let me do it for you as part of my responsibility towards you.” He replied throatily before he hoisted him up against the rock and made him wrapped his legs around his hips for leverage and support. He licked his lips slowly as his predatory gaze raked over Isagi’s form hungrily before he gave a one, swift thrust and breached his velvety walls which earned a low but lecherous moan from them.

“God fucking dammit Reo...! Fuck!” Isagi’s hands quickly grappled on his back and let his nails raked on his skin which earned a low hiss from the other male. The feeling of being full hit him instantaneously as Reo’s cock stretched him to his limit and buried itself to the hilt.

“Damn it to hell...! Still fucking tight no matter how many times we did this already!” Reo groaned out as the fiery, yet addicting sensation flooded around his veins at the feeling of Isagi’s walls quivered and stretched itself easily to accommodate the wide girth of his cock.

Without any preamble, Reo pulled away and slammed back inside of him ferociously which earned a sinful moan and helpless mewl from the other male. Tears of pleasure and drool started to cascade down his face as Reo’s thrusts grew harder and deeper which came to a point that he was railing him recklessly against the rock.

“Ah— Ah— Ah— Reo! Fuck that feels so good! Don’t you dare stop! Hit there harder please!” Isagi couldn’t contain his moans and mewled like a bitch in heat as Reo plowed him wildly and abused his sweet spot repeatedly.

Reo immediately leaned down and captured his lips in a wild and dirty kiss, swallowing all the pleasurable noises that were coming out from his sinful lips.

Isagi kissed him back messily, letting the other’s tongue explore the insides of his mouth wildly. He surrendered himself to the mind-numbing sensation and delirious ecstasy that the other was bringing him in.

“Fuck! Yoichi I’m close!” He mumbled hotly against his mouth.

“Inside Reo! Please! Finish it inside of me!” He mumbled back, completely drunk from pleasure and lust that enveloped his entire being.

“Fuck! I love you so much! Take all of it!” He groaned inside his mouth as Reo’s body shuddered and reached his climax, emptying himself on his walls and painted his insides with the warm sensation of his cum.

A muffled mewl and moan escaped from Isagi’s lips as he was filled up to his brim instantaneously, reaching his own peak afterwards and splashed his cum across their chests.

For a moment, they stayed like that together with only their ragged breathing and thunderous beats of their hearts inside their chests ringing around their senses.

The cool draft of air and mild splash of water from the sea shattered the drunken haze that they were in and they decided to pull away from each other and redressed themselves. Isagi’s legs trembled beneath the water before a surprise yelp emitted from his lips as he felt Reo’s robust arms carried his quivering frame easily.

“Wha—?”

“Now I can’t leave my poor husband walking alone when he’s on the receiving end of our strenuous activities.” Reo remarked mischievously.

Isagi rolled his eyes playfully as he wrapped his arms around his neck and let the other carry him back to the shore. “That’s right. Pamper your dear husband along with a well-deserved massage later.”

“As you wish of course.” Reo laughed huskily.

Isagi looked at his profile. The setting sun reflected his face in a soft glow of orangey hues from the sky.

A simple yet tantalizing smile inched across his lips at the radiant sight before him.

“Reo?” He called out gently.

“Yeah?” Reo glanced at him before Isagi quickly took him by the nape and claimed his lips in a deep yet soulful kiss that meant to pour out of his love for one another.

“I love you...” He murmured against his lips.

“I love you more...” Reo murmured back softly as he returned his kiss that’s worth more than a thousand words of affection for the other.

They said the end is coming (they said the end is coming) Everyone's up to something (everyone's up to something) I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving (outside, they're push and shoving) You're in the kitchen humming (you're in the kitchen humming) All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

(A/N: Yes, I know this one shot Reosagi sequel for my finished fic Betrothed is long overdue but forgive me because I’ve been ridiculously busy with my personal life and was distracted by other things. But here you go. Have some domestic yet spicy content of the married life of Reo and Isagi at your service. Reviews and kudos are much appreciated.)

[alexusonfire]

Sweet One

Smut adjacent, fluffy, slight angst for Alicent. Huge thanks to @swimmingstudentchaos891 for spitballing this with me 🧡

Rhaenys Targaryen x Alicent Hightower

It all started with a very hot and heavy makeout session, prompted by Alicent herself

They had yet to go any further than a few wandering hands, but tonight Alicent looked at Rhaenys with her biggest eyes and tugged her towards the plush bed, a small smile on her face as she pulled her in for another kiss

The undressing is soft, gentle, tender. Things Alicent had seldom experienced in her life. Rhaenys takes her time, allowing Alicent time to stop or leave if she wished. She knows Alicent, knows her history, and never wants her to feel obligated in the bedroom again

That being said, old habits die hard, and Rhaenys watches in slight confusion as Alicent rolls over and props her hips up, one of the only positions she's used to

Rhaenys simply leans forward and kisses Alicent's shoulder blade, then gently rolls her back over to face her

"I want to see you, sweet one."

And no this absolutely doesn't bring tears to Alicent's eyes why do you ask

She also goes a bit stiff, because she's just not used to this, to being wanted and desired and she's truthfully a bit confused

"... why?"

Rhaenys brushes Alicent's hair back, wipes a tear that's escaped her lashes, slow and soft and easy, everything Alicent needs in that moment

"I do not wish to simply fuck you, sweet girl... I desire to make love to you."

Alicent looks almost pained at the admission, and quietly makes one of her own

"I don't... I don't know what that means"

Rhaenys' gaze fills with utter adoration, and she pulls Alicent close to kiss her temple, nuzzling affectionately before meeting her eyes

"Then let me show you, dear heart."

[therealnightcity]

💘 🎥 for Hiro 😻

💘💔 for Ares

💘🏩 for Avi

Spicy Character Asks for @dreamskug 🥰💕

Hiro:

💘: What are the ways my muse says ‘I love you’ without actually saying it?

Hiro says I love you through actions or gestures, even without words. A soft hand slipped into someones, or a fleeting brush of fingers, tucking their hair behind their ear. Sometimes he says it in soft kisses, or smiles, intended only for the recipient, that say more than words ever could--eyes that hold trust and affection. He's very physically affectionate, even platonically--sitting close enough that legs are brushing, curled under the same blanket, and shoulders touching. Other times he says it through cooking, something he seldom does for himself but enjoys doing for others, sees it as worth the time and effort, and a way he can show love through actions, without ever saying it.

🎥: Who is my muse’s celebrity crush?

It isn't something Hiro thinks of often, usually preoccupied with people in front of him, or what's tangible, than imagining a celebrity in their place. If he had to pick one, he'd lean towards rockerboys, like Kerry Eurodyne or Johnny Silverhand--the rebellious, arrogance has a level of appeal, even if he hates to admit it. There's something he can't help but admire in the audacity, and how upfront they are, almost unapologetic--even if they can be unlikable at times, at least it's genuine.

Ares:

💘: What are the ways my muse says ‘I love you’ without actually saying it?

Ares says I love you through favors, through listening to people, and remembering the little details about them. She remembers what they like to eat, or places they want to go, or experiences and tries to provide them with those. She says I love you through listening to them, making them feel heard, and supporting their passions. She also says it through quality time--being present, relishing moments spent together, and making them count. Ares loves deeply, like the other two siblings, even if they have different ways of showing it.

💔: What was my muse’s first heartbreak?

Ares first heartbreak was not romantic but platonic, and it was realizing that she wouldn't be happy in a traditional nomad lifestyle. She needs to be able to put down roots, more than would be required for a life on the road, and she knows it's not for her. This being said, she misses the community, and feeling like she's part of a family. Isolation is no life for a nomad and she craves connections, whether platonic or romantic--someone who's company isn't as fleeting as the rest have been.

Avi:

💘: What are the ways my muse says ‘I love you’ without actually saying it?

Avi says I love you through actions, although more indirect than the others. His words are silky, often political or manipulative, but his gestures are rarely such. He does favors, takes risks, without expecting them in returm, even if might put him in harms way, or otherwise inconvenience. There's a protectiveness that makes itself known, and unshakable loyalty if it has been truly earned. Avi shows love through vulnerability, one of the few times he lets his guard down, and himself seen as he is, and not the carefully crafted figure he shows to the rest of the world.

🏩: What was my muse’s first time like?

Avi's first time was with another man when he was in Arasaka. There wasn't love there, but there was physical tension and it was a release of that. It felt forbidden but that made it all the better. They didn't see each other again after that, but it had embedded itself in his mind, temptation he tries to ignore. It's not as if he doesn't have desire, he does as much as anyone else, but he sees it as something that comes secondary to business, at least its what he tells himself, and would like to believe.

Thanks for asking, these were so much fun to think about~ ✨✨

[bloodiedmedic]

" the fucker deserved it. "

Looking up at the strange looking seemingly masked figure Alexis studied the man who was a good six inches taller for a second before looking down at the body not all that far away from them. How exactly did they keep ending up around people like this? Killers, criminals, and what the media affectionately called “maniacs of Gotham” not that they were really in any position to claim the high ground after the things they had done to survive. Eyes unblinking behind their glasses, and face expressionless they considered the corpse. Finally with a soft murmur they spoke. Their voice had a particular tone to it as though not expecting the man to actually listen, or care at all. If anything it was more thinking out loud as in Alexis’ experience people like him seldom cared what someone like Alexis had to say.

“Pity. A waste of kidneys, and perhaps a liver or corneas. A few body parts that could have been sold. At least if you have the connections.”

They had no idea how to contact the people that had sold the body parts they had once harvested for a different man, and one who as far as Alexis was concerned was an utter monster. It also wasn’t something they had any desire to figure out not wanting to fall into the trap of trying to get “easy money” by way of surgery and death. They knew themselves well enough to know it’d never be “one kidney and left in a bath” but rather “everything and left dead” as their blood lust pushed them over the edge. In truth they weren’t even sure why they had said anything, but it seemed rude not to say anything at all and as they had no idea at all why “the fucker” might have deserved it Alexis had no desire to comment on that.

Taking a step away from the man Alexis motioned towards the nearby street. “I’ll just see myself away now, though. Police hate me just as much as the next non gender confirming, non white weird person who doesn’t fit into their narrow world view so that’s not something you have to worry about.” There was no sound of self hatred or anything in their voice. Simply an acknowledgment that by virtue of their existence alone the police were not a safe route for them. That was ignoring the fact they were legally dead and getting interrogated by cops would be troublesome at best.

"Enjoy your evening."

Being polite never hurt anything.

[sabinemorans]

Roll for Initiative

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW Warnings 18+ ONLY: Pussy eating, lowkey public, fingering, praise kink,

Note:Eddie is only on his second redo of senior year so he’s only a year above Reader😇

Some elements Inspired by the lovely Eddie Cultists on Tik Tok who only fuel my obsession further

Three…two…one. It was exactly 12:15 and Eddie had places to be. He’d been trying to subtly but carefully watch the clock ever since lunch had started all while entertaining his friends by reading the articles that damned their favorite hobby. 

“It’s just ridiculous!” Mike said, chewing on his roll. “No one cares to see what we actually do so of course they think it’s demonic when it’s just a game.” 

“Curse of living in a small town,” agreed Dustin with a shake of his head. 

 Eddie chuckled and tossed the magazine back onto the table. “Don’t be discouraged young friends, one day everyone will see the complexity and depth of Dungeons and Dragons. Now!” He slaps his hands on the table then grabs his soda, draining it quickly and tossing it into a nearby can. 

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I gotta go have my real lunch.” Eddie stands and grabs his lunchbox. It was time to see his favorite person in the whole world-you.

The older boys at the table chuckle and shake their heads, knowing exactly where Eddie is headed now but not wanting to be too crass in front of the younger ones. Plus only a small circle of people even knew about the two of you in the first place and no offense to the freshmen, but they were not in that circle. Eddie often left lunch early after chatting for a little bit but he’d never given anything close to a hint as to why before now, always saying it was just important and something only for him to worry about. At Mike and Dustin’s confused faces he just waves it off, heading out towards the back of the cafeteria while flipping the bird at them affectionately.

“What does he mean by ‘real lunch?’” He hears Dustin ask, and Eddie smirks to himself as he walks out of earshot. Only the best thing in this damn school, he thinks to himself as he makes his way down the nearest hallway, down more stairs and another hallway. He reaches his destination of a seldom used classroom after only a few minutes and after checking that the hall was empty, knocks lightly in a specific pattern. The door opens and as soon as he slips inside he’s enveloped in the familiar scent of you. 

You’ve wrapped around him so suddenly and with such force you’ve pinned him to the door, causing it to close much louder than normal. It echoes in the hall and you both freeze for a moment-waiting for someone to investigate. When no one does, you giggle to yourselves and lean even closer into each other’s space.

“Hey there honey bunch, didja miss me or what?” Eddie was grinning and he knew how his stupidly big brown eyes made you feel inside so of course he flashed those proudly. When you melted visibly the grin got bigger. His arms were tightly wrapped around your waist in a hug that left little room between your bodies, which is how you liked it. “Could’ve gotten us caught, you naughty little thing.” 

Eddie dips his nose to your neck and inhales deeply, moaning as your natural scent and your perfume flooded his senses. He was a sensory guy, always needing you close in a way that would remind him of you when you weren’t within sight or on the phone with him. Your smell on his clothes, the taste of that stupid new coke you liked on his tongue, an article of clothing he could stash in his pockets and touch whenever he wanted. He always called himself a simple man but really Eddie was demanding in his need for you. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You hum in response to the sweet touches and light teasing, running your hands up and under his shirt to be skin to skin with him. “Buuuuut we didn’t get caught! So maybe you should just kiss me and we can get you fed properly.” 

Deciding to be evil (in his opinion at least) you lick his lower lip slowly, your hands moving from his back to his ass which you grab firmly. He groans as he complies, kissing you deeply and slipping his tongue into your mouth with ease. He’s fumbling with the door lock behind him for a moment before he’s leading you further into the room without once stopping the kiss. When your back hits the teacher’s desk you smile against his mouth and finally pull away. 

“Someone’s hungry today huh?” You say as he helps you up onto the desk. His hands are sliding up your thighs to push up your skirt and his eyes are zeroed in on his meal but at your tease he flicks those brown eyes back to you and winks. 

“Oh you’ve got no idea gorgeous…if I don’t get a taste I might go crazy, and you don’t want that do you? Plus,” Eddie grips your panties suddenly and starts to remove them, helped by you when needed all without looking away from your eyes. The goosebumps forming on your skin were a sign he was doing something right. “If I wanna graduate with you I’ve gotta get to class on time. Can’t be late.”

You wanted to say something snappy he could tell, your mouth opened but after he slid your panties down your legs and completely off he tucked them neatly into his back pocket; effectively reducing you to just a nod of acknowledgment. Eddie grinned as he lowered himself between your knees.

“Eyes on me babe,” he purrs up to you, a distinct tone of need in his voice. He kisses the inside of your thighs softly, massages the outside with his hands and by the time he makes his way to your center he can tell you’re becoming desperate. He hums as he pulls you closer to the edge and slides his hand up your body to encourage you to angle yourself back a little. He pulls his hand back down your front slowly, enjoying the feel of you on his palm before fully burying his face between your legs with a deep inhale. 

“Fuck you always smell so good…” he moans, nuzzling his nose above you and then letting his tongue flick out to your clit while his thumbs pull your lips apart. Eddie smiles up at you as you shiver, his hands sliding around to grip your ass. “Cmere baby…”

He could feel you watching as he spelled promises out along your pussy, making you moan and grab his hair for leverage at how voracious he was. Eddie didn’t do anything half assed except homework, and least of all you. He moaned in response to your hand coming to grip his dark curls tightly. One ringed hand was placed on yours not to stop you, just to hold you there. When you opened your legs wider and pressed his face further in a full body shiver overtook him. 

Fuck you were so good! Eddie’s tongue fucked your pussy for as long as he could, before finally pulling back to breathe with his lips and chin wet with your slick. He was so hard for you now, the grip on his hair that you refused to relinquish had his cock pulsing. Unconsciously he rubbed the heel of his hand against the bulge in his jeans, looking for any kind of relief he could get in the short amount of time you two had.

You noticed the movement and grinned, sitting up a little and tugging on his hair in a way that just made his cock need you more. His mouth opened slightly and his brown eyes were almost glazed as he looked at you. The tugging of his hair always made him want to whimper and do anything you asked but there wasn’t time to fuck you properly before you both had to be in class. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall to check the time-ten more minutes, that should be enough to get you over the edge and get you both through the day until you could be truly alone. He swallowed the water that suddenly filled his mouth as he thought about drinking you down, tasting you for the rest of the day and his cock throbbed. 

 “All worked up just because of my taste? Look at you Munson, if anyone saw they’d call you whipped,” you purred, a mischievous grin spreading on your face. 

Making direct eye contact with you with those big brown eyes of his, Eddie slowly wets two of his fingers, sucking them into his mouth down to his rings. You visibly swallow as you watch him pull them out soaking wet, your eyes going from his to his rings and back. He leans forward and strokes his spit slicked fingers along your folds casually, up…and down, pressing in lightly on your clit before dragging back down to slowly press them inside you. You gasp as your body opens for him and he stands, towering over you now with his lips brushing your ear. He chuckles hearing the shaky breaths and stifled moans as he finally sinks both fingers down to the hilt, your pussy walls fluttering deliciously around him. 

“I prefer the term pussy drunk sweetheart. Here, why don’t you taste for yourself?” Eddie drags his lips over yours at the same time that his fingers begin to curl inside you, making you gasp loudly with need. Then his tongue is back in your mouth and you groan desperately, clinging to his battle vest as your breathing becomes more labored. 

“F-fuck,” you whimper. Smirking against your lips Eddie gives you one last kiss before pulling his face back just enough to see you clearly. 

“That’s it sweetheart…I can feel you tightening around my fingers like such a good girl,” Eddie praises, his fingers speeding up and he takes extra care to make sure he brushes against that extra sensitive spot inside you. You’re breathing heavy, suppressing moans now and your hands are fisted in his vest so hard your knuckles are white and he just cannot get enough. You’re so fucking beautiful to him he can’t stand it and even though he doesn’t have time to fuck you properly he makes a vow to himself as your walls start to clench hard that by the end of the day it’ll happen. 

Your eyes are threatening to close as you get closer but just before the wave hits Eddie whispers, “fuck, can you look at me? Open your eyes sweetheart, lemme see your eyes when you cum all over my fingers. For me baby, please?” 

When your eyes flutter open and meet his he feels like he almost cums with you. The sight of you falling apart under his hand makes him mutter fuck with an air of triumph and need. You squeaked loudly when the pleasure finally became too much and Eddie’s other hand slaps over your mouth to keep you quiet while he wrings every last bit of cum from you that he can. 

Putting on what you called his “melted chocolate voice” he speaks directly into your ear, his fingers finally slowing to help you come down from your high.  “Shhhh shhhh…I got you sweetheart, that’s it, that’s my good little girl. Cumming so good for me baby doll-I fuckin’ love it.” 

When your body finally relaxes, exhausted, he pulls his fingers from you and tips your chin up with the hand that had kept you quiet.

 “I love you sweetheart. You’re the only girl for me, you know that?” When you nod with a glazed look in your eyes Eddie chuckles and gives you a sweet little kiss, just gently pressing your lips together. He checks the time then and mutters a curse, pulling away from you.

“I gotta get-I’ll see you later yeah? You’re coming over tonight.” Eddie quickly sucks his soaked fingers clean and grabs his lunchbox, ready to leave when you call him back. 

“Huh…huh? I am?? Wait-Eddie you-you have my panties!” You were too weak to chase him down and he knew it, but your eyes seemed clearer. You were still on the desk with your legs open, skirt down hiding your pussy from him (which was probably a good thing or else he may have just come back to you for more). 

As it was he really was trying to graduate with you which meant getting to class on time this year so he just smiled at you and winked. “Gotta come over if you want them back right? Be careful to smooth your skirt down before you sit anywhere.” 

His hand on the door Eddie stops himself and then looks back at you one last time. “You know what-just be careful in general. I don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine. I don’t share food with anyone but you.” He blows you a kiss. “My place after dark. I’ll see you then, my good girl.” 

And then he’s gone, practically skipping to his next class and thinking of what else he can do to you. People are looking at him a bit funny in the halls but there’s not a damn thing on his mind besides you, and what he’s going to do to you once you’re in his bed. 

You both might be skipping school the next day from sheer exhaustion.

Part 2-lemme know if you want to be tagged!

@ohdeargodnotyouagaintyouagain @manyimaginativemuses @labyrinth-runner @emilykjh @vunoirien @rexsjaigeyes @labyrinth-runner @juniebugg @dreymabees

[beels-burger-babe]

Try it, I Dare You

*** Greetings! So this little fic is part of Familial Attachments which I wrote ages ago. I randomly got inspired by Big Bro! Lucifer and decided to branch off of it. Quick reminder that this MC is not a Teen! MC and therefore not underage. Thanks, everyone for the love and support! This fic is a long one. -B ***

Summary: As Lucifer forms a more familial bond with MC, the other brothers find themselves falling for the human romantically. Lucifer notes the changes in his brother's intentions and is not pleased.

Gaining you as an honorary little sibling was one of the best things to ever happen to Lucifer.

It gave him someone he could open up to, someone to fawn over, someone he could be soft with.

This change in dynamic between you and Lucifer had caused a number of things to change in the House of Lamentation in general.

You and Lucifer had become practically attached to the hip. Where you went, it seemed he wasn't far behind. The other brothers had joked that he had degraded himself to be your guard dog (a comment that had them all scrubbing the entirety of the hall's floors with their own toothbrushes), and in all honesty, he sort of had. Lucifer spent more time outside of his office, and would instead do his work in the lounge, where he could personally keep an eye on you.

It was this extra time around you that had caused Lucifer to begin to notice things.

It began, as most problems within the house do, with Mammon.

You had been talking with Mammon on the couch as Lucifer quietly did paperwork in the background.

He hadn't been listening in on the conversation (as frankly, it was none of his concern and you did deserve your own privacy), but your bright laugh had momentarily caught his attention.

When he glanced over, he saw you double over, nearly in tears from something Mammon had apparently said. It was nice.

What wasn't so nice, was the openly soft, adoring look that he was giving you under the knowledge that you weren't looking. His cheeks were dusted visibly flushed as his eyes glistened with affection.

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as the expression quickly disappeared once you turned to face Mammon once more and continue your conversation.

Paying closer attention now, he noted how Mammon's hand was draped over the back of the couch, his fingertips ghosting over the tops of your shoulders. A fond smirk remained glued on his face as he watched you talk passionately, and didn't even make an attempt to interrupt you as he would with most people.

Most damning, however, was the fact that the blush never quite left his face.

Lucifer pressed his lips into a thin line.

Mammon quite clearly had romantic interests in you, and that just wouldn't do.

It wasn't that Lucifer didn't trust you to know what's best for yourself. No. He knew that you were exceedingly clever and did, in fact, trust you to make your own choices. It was precisely why he hadn't done anything about Asmodeus's hollow flirtations, or Satan's teasing, or Belphegor's sleepovers. He knew that if you were truly bothered by it, you were more than capable of getting them to leave you alone.

He didn't, however, trust his brothers with you.

With the new pathway of thinking that Mammon's actions had opened that day, Lucifer had noticed that Mammon was not alone in his not-so-innocent intentions with you.

In fact, it appeared that you had captured the hearts of each of his brothers.

It was all too obvious to him now.

Satan's hands lingering on yours as he passed you books. Asmodeus's comments being less shallow and materialistic and more personal and sentimental. Levi's awe-filled eyes, being fixed on you rather than the games the two of you played. Belphegor, cracking open an eye to peer up at you when you weren't looking as he "slept" on your lap. Beel's fidgeting and blush as he asked you to help him work out. Mammon practically melting whenever you ruffled his hair; even as he protested and swatted at your hands.

Lucifer cursed his past self for being so oblivious.

Perhaps the worst part of all of this is that you, the innocent pure soul that you were, were completely oblivious to all of their advances. You would simply giggle or brush it off entirely as just one of the many weird things that his brothers did.

It was unacceptable.

Lucifer, although he seldom admitted it, loved his brothers. He truly did. But he also knew how reckless, moronic, and just overall dangerous they could all be. You deserved better than that. It was for this reason that Lucifer had made it his personal mission to put an end to these revolting advances.

-

Asmodeus smiled as he practically skipped over to where you were reading in the living room, "Hey MC," he draped his arms over your shoulder from behind and nestled his chin on top of your head. "What are you doing today?"

You chuckled and moved your head to gaze up at the bubbly demon. "Good morning, Asmo. I'm not doing much. Just relaxing, I guess. Why?"

Asmo could feel his smile widen at the information. He had been trying to get you all to himself all week, but there was always someone else around or something else that you had to do. Now was his chance!

He hummed as he snaked around the chair to face you. "Then that means you're free to spend the day shopping with your truly!" He shot off a cheeky wink to end it all off.

Asmo felt his heart flutter as your eyes glittered in excitement at his words. "I'd love to Asmo! Just let me gather a few things and we'll-"

"Ah! MC. Are you heading out for the day?"

All the light and warmth that Asmodeus had been feeling instantly plummeted as Lucifer entered the room. His brother was obviously trying to play it off as though he hadn't orchestrated this, not even looking at the two of them as he thumbed through a few papers in his hands, but Asmodeus knew better.

You, however, were none the wiser.

You practically lit up as Lucifer walked into the room. "Yeah! Asmodeus invited me to go shopping with him. We're probably going to be gone for the better part of the day," Asmodeus's bad mood caused by his brother's presence softened as you looked back at him.

Asmo plastered on a smile and wrapped an arm around your shoulder while glared sharply at Lucifer. He hoped that maybe this time he'd actually take the hint and leave everything alone. "Was there something you needed, big brother? Or are you just here to grace us with your presence?"

Asmodeus regretted his words, as the moment he saw them, Lucifer smiled sharply, like a cat who'd just captured its prey. "Well, since you asked, Asmodeus, I was hoping the two of you could pick up a few things for me," Lucifer began to list off rare item after rare item. Asmo could nothing but watch as the dread in his stomach grew heavier and heavier.

You chuckled nervously as Lucifer reached what had to be the twentieth item. "That's quite a bit, Lucifer. I don't think I'd be able to remember it all, and even if I did, I don't know where to begin looking for half of the things you listed," your face scrunched up adorably in thought before you snapped and looked up at the two demons. "I know! Why doesn't Lucifer come with us! That way he'll be able to get his things, and we all can spend time together. Sounds nice, right?"

And there it was.

Asmodeus did everything he could to keep the disappointment off his face, as Lucifer patted your shoulder. "That sounds like an excellent idea, MC," Asmo bit back a growl as Lucifer pulled you out of his arms and lead you towards your room. He glanced back at Asmo with a smug, prideful, look on his face. "We'll go get ready. Thank you for arranging this day out, Asmodeus."

Asmodeus could do nothing but pout as Lucifer walked away with you.

-

Satan had never felt so... tender-hearted before.

He watched you affectionately as you rambled on about your day while effortlessly helping him make supper.

There was something so wholesome and domestic about the entire situation that reminded him of the few romance novels he had read. Initially, when he read those books, he thought the poetic descriptions of the person's heart skipping and the tingling warmth filling their body was a gross exaggeration, but now he knew, and he never wanted that feeling to go away.

He moved by your side and stirred one of the pots on the stove while you diced tomatoes. As he listened to you speak about an enchantment you were trying to get the hang of with Solomon, he suddenly remembered one of the more cliche moments from the books he read.

Glancing at the sauce, Satan carefully scooped up a little bit into a spoon and gently blew on it to cool it down. He turned to you and held the spoon out towards you. "I'm not sure if I got the spices balanced outright. Would you mind-"

Before he could speak any more, a head. that most certainly did not belong to you, swooped down and ate the sauce off the spoon. You and Satan blinked as Lucifer, who had somehow appeared behind you, pulled away from the spoon with a thoughtful expression. "The sauce is good. I'd say it's probably done now," Lucifer stated calmly as his thumb wiped at the corners of his mouth. Satan's grip tightened on the spoon's handle as he snarled at his brother.

You looked awkwardly between the two as Lucifer draped his arm onto your shoulder. "Lucifer? What are you doing here?"

Lucifer's expression softened as he looked down at you, "I just wanted to check in on you," Satan's eye twitched at the excuse. Lucifer tilted his head before he continued. "Also, I saw Mammon sneaking into your room, muttering something about your jewellery box and wanted to give you a heads up."

Your eyes widened as your head snapped in the direction of your room. "What?! Why didn't you start with that?!" Lucifer's smile widened as you made your way towards the kitchen exit. You glanced back at Satan with sympathetic eyes, "Sorry, Satan. I'll promise I'll help you make dinner next time!" Before Satan even had the chance to respond, you had taken off down the hall, yelling his older brother's name.

With you gone, Satan turned to Lucifer with full, unrestrained fury. "What the fuck was that for?" he spat as he stepped into Lucifer's space.

The elder brother merely rolled his eyes and stepped around Satan as though he was nothing more than a hissing kitten. "I could be asking you the same thing. You were getting awfully close there."

Satan's face grew red, though it was hard to distinguish whether the colour was from anger or embarrassment. "That's none of your business!"

Apparently, Lucifer didn't deem a response necessary, as he simply dismissed his brother with a cocky wave of his hand and strutted out of the room in the same direction that you had left.

-

Beelzebub was taking a chance and stepping outside of his comfort zone.

Ever since discovering a small, weak flower in the shadows of the Hall of Lamentation and nursing it back to health, Beel had taken up gardening as a hobby.

None of his brothers knew about it, to his knowledge, and that was okay. If anything, the soft-spoken demon preferred it that way.

But when he noticed that it was particularly nice outside and that you were roaming around with little to do, he decided to let you in on his little secret.

Beel stole a glimpse over his shoulder at you. You were hunched over, humming to yourself as you worked away, your hands knuckle deep in the rich soil with smudges of dirt smeared across your forehead. The gentle dim light of the Devildom sky bounced off your skin and blanketed you in its glow, only adding the beauty you projected.

The sight alone stole his breath and momentarily made him forget about his hunger.

He opened his mouth to speak to you, but was cut off by the sound of heavy footfalls thundering towards you and a loud dangerous growl.

Beel's eyes widened as he notice Cerberus turn the corner, heading straight towards the two of you in a dead sprint.

Without thinking, Beel quickly tackled you to the side, just as the three-headed hell hound rushed past you, demolishing the garden in his wake.

You did a double-take between Beel, Cerberus and the garden as you scrambled to your feet. "Cerberus? How in Diavolo's name did he get loose?" you anxiously ran a hand through your hair began to head in the direction he took off in. "Lucifer taught me a few tricks for catching him. I'm going to go get him! I'm so so sorry about all of this Beel! I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

Without another word you took off after the beast, shouting it's name.

Beel frowned and looked at what remained of his garden. He felt his heart sink a little at seeing all of his hard work destroyed. With a heavy sigh, he slowly made his way towards Cerberus's den to see just how bad the damage was.

Only, when he arrived, the pen's door didn't even have a scratch on it; almost as though someone had let the dog out.

-

Leviathan paced around his room as he muttering to himself as tightly clenched to tickets.

"Alright, Levi. It's not a big deal," he whispered reassuringly. "You just have to go out there, hand them the tickets, and ask them to come with. You already checked their calendar when you were in their room last time, and there are no mentions of any upcoming events on their Devilgram, so they won't be busy. O-Of course, they could always reject you for being a stupid shut-in and a gross o-otaku, b-b-but they're your Henry! Right? They have to agree! Okay!" Levi took a deep breath of courage and quickly flung open his door.

He charged to the living room where he knew you would be lounging with Lucifer.

Upon seeing him, your expression lit up and you graced Leviathan with one of your dazzling smiles. The otaku swore that he could hear his heart go "doki-doki". He stumbled to a stop as his face blushed, and quickly hid the tickets behind his back. "H-Hi MC."

"Hey, Levi-chan!" Oh Diavolo, he loved it when you called him that. "What's up? You look like a man on a mission."

Levi briefly noted Lucifer side-eyeing the two of you as he began to stutter out an answer. "W-Well you see, uh... I-I just um...There's this th-thing that..." He let out a small noise of frustration at his own incompetence.

But you never laughed, or sighed, or groaned, like any of his brothers would have. No. You merely sat there and waited patiently for him to find his words with a gentle smile on your face.

Another deep breath and Levi composed himself. "Did you want to go to an idol concert with me this weekend?" Levi couldn't even bring himself to look you in the eyes as he asked the question. "O-Obviously you don't have to, b-b-but you seemed to like their music when I played it the other day, a-a-and you aren't busy so I thought-"

"Actually," Levi's mouth snapped shut as Lucifer spoke up, "MC and I have plans with Diavolo this weekend."

Levi's head whipped over to look at you and noted the slightly confused expression on your face. "I thought that was next weekend?"

Amber eyes narrowed at the words, as Levi slowly turned to glare at Lucifer. It was all to clear to the Otaku what was happening here.

Lucifer shrugged, not even phased by the venomous stare of his brother, and pulled out his D.D.D. "Barbatos messaged me saying that Diavolo had an important meeting pop up next week and asked if we could move our little get-together to this weekend instead."

You huffed and crossed your arms. "I know he's the prince and can't help it, but making last-minute changes like that is just rude."

Lucifer chuckled at your annoyance and ruffled your hair. "I know, but it's nothing either of us can help. I'll just confirm that we're good with the change and-"

"No." Lucifer and Levi both looked at you in shock. Levi dared to let his heart flutter with hope at the determined look on your face. "I can make plans with Diavolo any time. This concert is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and it clearly means a lot to Levi. Tell him that I'll have to take a rain check. I'm going to be spending the weekend with Levi-chan."

Levi instantly let out a cheer of victory as he stepped forward spun you in the air. "Thank you, MC!!! Oh we're going to have so much fun! I swear you won't regret this!"

You giggled as you were set back down onto your feet. "Thank you for inviting me! This is going to be amazing!"

You and Levi began rambling about all the things you wanted to do at the concert and what you'd need to prepare in advance for the ultimate experience.

Levi couldn't believe it! He was going to spend an entire weekend getting to show you the things that he loved! It'd be just the two of you and it'd be perfect.

"I have an idea," Levi felt himself tense as Lucifer spoke up once more. "Why don't we all go together? That way you can spend time with Diavolo, while also getting to attend the concert?"

Levi's heart sunk as you squealed at the idea, jumping excitedly around a smiling Lucifer.

So much for his perfect, romantic, weekend.

-

Mammon took a deep breath as he stared at your bedroom door.

This was it. He was finally going to tell you how he felt.

He had it all planned out. He was going to go in there, and gift you the necklace he had noticed you looking at the last time the two of you went downtown. Then, he'd explain how through the past months of living with you and being your protector, that he found himself becoming enraptured by every single little thing that you do. He'd explain how he knows that he's clingy and greedy when it comes to spending time with you, but that's because there's nothing he treasures more than being by your side. And then, he'd say that he loves you, and hope that you say the same in return.

Fucking romantic right? Mammon had this in the bag.

He confidently lifted his chin as he knocked on your door before walking in. "Hey MC! I know it's late, but do ya gotta-" he trailed off at the sight before him.

Both you and Lucifer were in fluffy, white robes on your bed. Lucifer had a headband in his hair, brushing his bangs away from his clay mask-covered face. You were beside him, also sporting a mask, your tongue peeking out of the corner of your mouth as you carefully painted his nails.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at his brother, obviously annoyed at being disturbed, while you smiled over at Mammon. "Hey, Mams! Just a sec," you smoothly finished applying a coat of red polish to Lucifer's pinky finger before recapping the bottle and turning to the white-haired demon. "What's up?"

Mammon felt his face heat up, as he quickly hid the small box in his hands behind his back. "I- Uh- Nothin'! Just wanted to talk with ya. Can ya come with me for a few minutes?"

Lucifer sighed as he examined his freshly painted nails. "Might I remind you that you're the one disturbing us, Mammon? If you've got something to say," Mammon gulped as knowing, irked, obsidian eyes bore into his, "spit it out."

You smacked Lucifer's arm. "Hey! Be nice," you offered Mammon a sympathetic smile as you turned back to him. "Sorry, Mammon. You were saying?"

Mammon swallowed down the lump in his throat as humiliation flooded his veins. He awkwardly looked away and waved off your concern. "Nah. It was nothin' important," he subtly slid the necklace box into his back pocket, "I-I'll talk with ya tomorrow or somethin'. It's nothin' ya need to worry about."

You blinked owlishly at Mammon. He could practically see the gears churning inside your head; you obviously thought something was wrong. "Are you sure? If it matters to you, Mammon, that means it's important. I can spare a few minutes if it's really bothering you."

You began to stand up, but as you did, Lucifer caught your wrist."MC, he already said you didn't need to worry about it. If it was that important, he would've just told us. I'm sure everything is fine," Mammon tensed as Lucifer shifted his cold gaze onto him, "right?"

Mammon quickly nodded as he stumbled back towards the door. "Yeah! Yes! Everything is perfectly fine! I-I'll just get goin' and leave to continue whatever this is. Bye!" He scurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him, before slumping against it.

He could faintly hear the sounds of you scolding Lucifer, and felt himself slump in defeat.

He'd just have to try again another day.

-

Belphegor fluffed the blankets and pillows that he had set up in the backyard.

It was perfect. He had actually put in work to make sure it was.

A sea of blankets would protect the two of you from the chilly, Devildom, night air, while his finest pillows would make sure you were comfortable. He had brought out a thermos filled with tea and some snacks to make the evening extra cozy.

It was everything the two of you would need to take in the meteor shower tonight.

A click sounded behind him. Belphie perked and quickly turned to greet with you a smile.

Only, instead of you, a rather smug-looking Lucifer stood in the doorway.

Belphie growled and went back to arranging pillows. "What do you want?"

Lucifer shrugged and began to set up a telescope. Belphie gritted his teeth at the sight of it. "I'm just here to take in the meteor shower like you are. That's all. It is quite a beautiful sight after all, and it also happens to be very enlightening."

Belphegor sneered at his older brother as he turned away from him. "Well do it somewhere else! I'm watching the shower here with MC, not you. So go away!"

Lucifer tilted his head in mock confusion as he held up his phone. "Oh dear, but I've already invited the others to join us out here."

Belphie's head snapped up at Lucifer's words. "You what?!"

As though summoned, the rest of his brothers toppled into the backyard.

"I was unaware there was a meteor shower tonight," Satan claimed as he laid down his own blanket near Belphie's perfectly structured nest. "To think I almost missed out on it."

"Eh, I don't care about any stupid stars or anythin'," Belphie groaned in annoyance as Mammon plopped himself down beside him. "But if anythin' falls near us, then those meteor pieces have gotta be worth a fortune!"

Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes as he leaned against the house, game counsel still in hand. "Nothing's actually falling, dumb ass. They're just space rocks passing by."

Asmodeus giggled while he snuggled himself up on Belphie's other side. Belphie wrinkled up his nose and tried to lean away from the physical affection. "Then why are you out here, Levi, if they're just space rocks? Can't you admit that they're beautiful, like me, and you wanted to experience something real for once?"

Levi let out a squawk of embarrassment. "There isn't anything that 'reality can offer me that anime can't! I've seen meteor showers at least ten times all with amazing shots and angles that you could never get in real life!"

Asmodeus merely shook his head in response. "Whatever you say, Levi," he reached over to the picnic basket that Belphie for you and him had packed and held it over his head. "Beel! Snacks!"

Belphegor gaped at his twin as the ginger giant grabbed the basket and sat down behind them. "Beel?! You too?"

Beel looked down guiltily and looked through the food. "I'm sorry, Belphie. But Lucifer said there'd be snacks and that everyone else was going to be there, and I thought it'd be nice to have a family event."

Belphie groaned and held his head in his hands. "You knew I was planning this for just me and MC though."

Beel frowned and held out a cookie to his twin. "Sorry."

Before Belphie could argue anymore or even get the chance to kick everyone out, the door opened once more.

"Oh," everyone looked over to see you standing there in your pyjamas. Belphie's heart clenched as your confused eyes found his. "I didn't know this was a group gathering! I would've brought down some pillows for everyone or some snacks if I had known!" you smiled brightly at the group as you walked towards them.

"No need. Belphie went ahead and provided enough for everyone already," Lucifer claimed and patted the ground next him. "You can sit with me, MC. There's plenty of space over here."

Belphie cursed under his breath as you accepted Lucifer's offer and huffed as the meteor shower began.

Lucifer smirked as he took in his brother's defeat with glee, and you babbled away none-the-wiser by his side.

His brothers could try to woo you and corrupt you all they wanted, but Lucifer wasn't going anywhere. For every attempt they'd make, he'd be there to stop it.

You had deemed Lucifer your big brother, after all, and as such, he'd make sure that you were always safe from his brothers' infernal influences.

***The ending is meh, but whatever! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! It was both fun and hassle to write, but I love it nonetheless! Thanks for your amazing support and love! Sorry for the lack of fics lately. Love you all!***

Taglist @all-oxidized-to-green @candymeowz, @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @lovelythoma @mothervictoire @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino @arkarul @pumpkins-mainside-blog

[thebadgerclan]

New Year’s Kiss Blurbs!

Happy New Year!  Enjoy these itty bitty blurbs of my favorite characters and how they’d give a New Year’s Kiss!

Tagging @fandom-puff and @pinkandblueblurbs because A) I love you guys and B) I think you’ll enjoy the Harry Potter blurbs 🥰

Aleksander Morozova:

“Happy New Year!”  Outside the walls of the Little Palace, fireworks lit up the sky, and around him, the Grisha toasted their glasses of kvas and wine, some pulling their lover close for a traditional New Year’s kiss.  Normally, Aleksander was a restrained man, keeping his affections for you behind closed doors aside from an arm around your shoulders or a kiss to your forehead or cheek.  But tonight, he was feeling rather affectionate, and he pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply, dipping you towards the ground, his arms firm around your waist.  “Happy New Year, my love.”  You smiled, forehead against his.  “Happy New Year, Sasha.”

Matthias Helvar

“Happy New Year!”  This was very different than New Year’s in Fjerda.  Back home, large gatherings like this were un heard of; a family might splurge on a nicer cut of reindeer or a bottle of wine, but in Ketterdam, gathering in the streets and getting utterly intoxicated was apparently the norm.  Matthias was slowly getting used to the public displays of affection in Kerch, but watching dozens of couples embracing around him made him a bit uncomfortable.  You noticed, and took his hand, going up on your tiptoes and kissing his cheek.  “There’s more where that came from later, love,” you said, and Matthias flushed scarlet.  He supposed he’d have to get used to a woman, his woman, being assertive as well.

Kaz Brekker

“Happy New Year!”  For the whole evening, Kaz’s gloved hand had been clasped firmly in yours, unwilling to let you stray too far from him in the crowd.  The canals were bustling with people, colorful fireworks popping overhead.  This was something Kaz had been overthinking for weeks: he was comfortable with touching you without his gloves, and he found that crowds, being smushed in a sea of bodies, didn’t inspire the fear they one had.  But could be combine the two?  He kept his gloves on to be safe, and he told himself that it was now or never.  Kaz brought a hand to your cheek and guided your face to his, kissing you sweetly.  When he pulled back, you were looking at him with unadultered awe.  “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

Severus Snape

“Happy New Year!”  Every year, Dumbledore held a New Year’s celebration for the teachers and students who stayed at the school over break.  This year, very few students remained, putting the occupants of the Great Hall at only 4 students opposed to most of the teachers.  As such, Severus had let his guard down, letting himself enjoy a few drinks and keep you close, his arm around your waist.  And when midnight struck, your husband pulled you even closer, kissing you deeply and passionately.  “I think Albus would be rather disappointed in me if I gave you the New Year’s kiss I’d truly like to give.”  “Severus!”

Lucius Malfoy

“Happy New Year!”  Of course, Lucius Malfoy’s New Year’s Eve party was the place to be, anyone who’s anyone wanted to be invited.  You were dripping in precious gems, silk and satin, a flute of champagne in one hand, your other resting on Lucius’ arm.  Fire-proof fireworks went off when the clock struck 12, showering the great room in golden sparks.  Your fiance snatched your champagne from your hand, setting it haphazardly on the mantle before pulling you to him, kissing you possessively and deeply.  “Happy New Year, my sweet dove.”

Remus Lupin

You and Remus seldom made it to midnight, and seeing as last night was the full, Remus was exhausted, his body still recovering.  The pair of you were snuggled up on the couch, a bottle of champange open on the coffee table before you, along with your favorite snacks and a pizza you’d demolished.  Remus was dozing against your chest, a blanket tucked around his shoulders.  You were nodding off as well, but Remus stirred, lifting his head.  “Y/N,” he mumbled.  “It’s midnight.”  “So it is,” you replied, and Remus kissed you, his lips soft against yours.  “Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he said sleepily, and you hummed.  “Happy New Year Rem.”

[azurevi]

Fluff 49 with the octa trio please? Thank you :333

49. “Is somebody jealous?” with octavinelle

Thanks for requesting! I hope this is good enough 😔

Azul

Your relationship with Azul is so secure that one might even comment about how laid back you are. But both of you know better than anyone that you love each other, and there's nothing to worry about at all.

Well, that's what Azul would like to think, but recently his heart has been betraying his words a lot. In his defense, you've been getting pretty close with someone else. It's not as though he doesn't trust you, no, it is your friend whom he doubts.

He's pretty sure he isn't imagining things, that the flirtations and sly glances and unneeded physical touches are signs that your friend wants more than just friendship from you. Although you've never responded to any of his attempts, he still feels a weird feeling boiling in his chest everytime they get a little too close to you.

It sucks more when he has to stay at Mostro Lounge and work overtime, because that means your friend can take the opportunity and snatch you away. He's grateful that you always come back to him after the day, but he can't get rid of the uneasiness. Perhaps he's scared. You may have told him times and times that you love him, but he admits that there's still something which your friend possesses and he doesn't. There's a constant voice in the back of his head, taunting him about how he isn't as good as them. Sometimes it's so loud that he just wishes to turn it off.

Your friend is getting bolder and bolder by day. Even when you and Azul are clearly having alone time, they will shamelessly join in, and being a nice person you never turn them down. Azul wishes you would though, but he doesn't want to upset you by being selfish.

You aren't oblivious though. It's clear as day how uncomfortable Azul acts around them -- his posture stiffens and his head tilts up slightly, eyes ever so cold but his fingers are always restless. He never confirms anything though, so for a while you just decide to let it slide, but he's been looking so bothered lately that you make up your mind to lure the truth out of him.

"Hey," you knock on the door to his VIP room. His eyes basically shine at the sight of you. 

"I thought you're going out with your friend," he says instead, once again lacking subtlety.

"I was, but I turned them down at the last minute,'

Azul flicks his gaze up. "You did? Why?"

"I don't know, maybe because someone is sulking?"

He doesn't have to say anything. His avoiding glances already reveal enough. "I'm not sulking," comes his futile, weak defense.

"Really? Then what's going on?"

After a moment of silence Azul puts down his pen, burying his face in his head as if in exasperation. "It's nothing… you've just been spending time with them a lot,"

Your brow arch curiously. "No way. Is somebody jealous?"

Blood shoots to his cheeks, painting the tips of his ears red. He looks like a child caught red handed for stealing candies during midnight. 

"I'm not- I- fine. I am a little jealous, alright? But I trust you. It's them I don't trust," he nudges his head to the side, as if your friend is standing right there. "I may be overthinking things, but I think they're interested in you,"

"Are they?" you recall the times you spent together, trying to pick up possible hints. At your serious expression Azul waved you off, "As I said, it's just me overthinking. Don't fuss over it,"

"That won't do, you're clearly troubled," you walk to his side, prompting him to turn to you. "How about we do this, I make sure to draw the line between us and spend more time with you. Will that make you feel better?"

"You don't have to. I'm not a child who whines when his mother disappears for a minute."

"No you aren't. What you are is my partner, and I am willing to do anything to comfort you, alright?" you plant a kiss on his cheek, noting how hot his face is. "I'm sorry for neglecting you,"

"You don't have to apologize…" he mumbles, although his originally furrowed brows have relaxed significantly. Knowing that you're going to be there for him no matter what is already enough for him to ease his worries.

Jade

Jade adores you. It isn't anything surprising, basically the whole school knows about it. It isn't as if he tries to hide it anyways. He loves to shower you with affection even when you're in public, more so when you're having alone times. His affection is gentle and understanding, which is one of the many reasons you fell for him, but you've never expected these qualities to become the source of your plaguing worries.

Jade's smile is one of a kind. It can be benevolent and hostile at the same time, and it can be as venomous as it can be soothing. As someone who has to constantly deal with customers by Azul's side, he has mastered the ability to please someone with his appearance. And being the serious businessman that he is, he seldom acts recklessly.

That explains why he's caught the attention of one business partner, and for the past few days they've been asking Jade to accompany them around the campus. You shouldn't feel jealous about it, really, it's part of his job after all, but you can't help comparing the both of you and realizing how you lack the same charisma that they hold. However, you decide to keep it to yourself, not wanting to come off as a clingy and inconsiderate partner.

There's only one thing that you fail to realize, which is how sharp Jade's eyes are. It's true that he has been spending less time with you lately, but during the scarce moments when you're together he can already figure out what is clouding your mind.

"Good evening, my dear," Jade arrives at the Ramshackle dorm after work as usual, to steal more time with you. His workload may be burdening, but he never misses any chance to be around you.

"How's work?" you ask casually, trying not to bring up the fact that he was once again asked to entertain the client and had to cancel your lunch together.

"Work's fine," he reaches out and pulls you towards him just as you walk to hang his jacket, planting a long, deep kiss on your forehead. "How was your day?"

"Fine," you frown a little.

"Is that right? You seem to look upset though," he leans back to get a good look at your face, but you bow your head down in embarrassment. "I'm not upset,"

It seems that you're not going to give up your secret easily.

"Is somebody jealous?"

Your head shoots up, eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

Jade chuckles. "I asked whether you're jealous. I know I've been occupied lately, and I don't want you to feel lonely,"

"I'm not lonely. I understand that you have responsibilities," you mumble, still too stubborn to admit what's going on in your mind.

"That's true, but I am also your boyfriend, am I not? Making you feel loved is my responsibility too," he cups your cheeks with his palms, fitting your face in his hold and looking at you with the soft look that's reserved only for you. "Don't worry. Even when I'm busy, I'm always thinking about you,"

His honesty brings a blush to your cheeks and you wrap your arms around him in an attempt to hide your flustered countenance. 

"Thank you, Jade."

"Of course, my love."

Floyd

Dating Floyd means that you're going to be loved for every single moment in your life. Floyd is physically affectionate, and he's definitely going to give you tackle hugs at any given chance. Be prepared to have him stick around and shower you with kisses and touches. With his constantly overflowing affections for you it's really hard for you to feel jealousy and envy.

Well, that's before the rabbit comes between the two of you.

You still can't believe that you're jealous of a goddamn rabbit, but here you are. Perhaps you've been getting too used to Floyd and his intimacy that the moment he averts his attention, you immediately feel hollow.

The two of you found this fellow outside your dorm, shivering in the cold and seemingly lost. Floyd took an interest to the small creature almost immediately and seems to have forgotten about you. You're sure he doesn't intend to ignore you, but suddenly losing his fondness just makes you feel out of place.

You refuse to act on your feelings though. What will he say if he finds out how needy you are? Perhaps he will deem you too hard to please or even a nuisance… you shake your head at the thought, returning to watching him play with the bunny.

"Oh, aren't you the cutest~" Floyd buries his face into the soft white fur, giggling at himself. At your silence he turns to you, only to find you seemingly troubled as your eyebrows knit together. 

"Y/N~" he calls out and pouts when there's no response. He scoots over to you and pokes your face, only then is he successful in getting your attention. 

"Is something wrong?" he asks, resting his jaw on his palm with an interested shine in his eyes. 

"Nothing," you shake your head, nudging your head towards the rabbit. "Why don't you go and spend some more time with it? I'm sure it's getting lonely,"

Floyd is quiet for a while, face blank as the gears in his head work. After a moment, he breaks into a small smile. "I only left for a minute, it's not going to get lonely that easily…" you gulp at his words that suddenly seem to carry a hidden meaning. "What about you? Are you feeling deserted, somehow? Or better! Is someone jealous~?"

"I'm not," you quickly retort. Floyd laughs, throwing his head back carefreely. "I think you are though? Are you sad because I haven't been giving you love lately?"

You grunt, unwilling to answer any more of his questions which he already has the answers to. Seeing your annoyed expression, he decides to drop his teasing. "Alright~ I will show you more love, alright?" he wraps you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest and swaying you from side to side. You're not going to admit it, but you've missed this.

"Next time you want hugs and kisses, you only need to ask~" he says in a sing-songy voice, chuckling as you denies ever having such desires.

[spasmsofthought]

flashes. (dick grayson x reader)

I’m not really well-versed in DC, at all, but I wanted to give this a shot. let me know what you think! It’s a bit of a mess, so please take this with a grain of salt and some grace. sorry if he feels ooc; I tried my best but I am by no means an expert or even an amateur. please be kind. idk if i’ll write anymore for him, but i wanted to try. it might be trash but it’s out there now xo

-- 

It’s not like Gotham is known for being a walk in the park. The city is all alleys in the middle of the night, dark vapors rising from sewers, and secrets in the shadows. At least, in your experience. 

There were no gated communities or fences to keep the darkness out in the apartment complex you lived in with your family. Only survival and common sense keeps you returning to your bed and food on the table.

So, when your younger (genius) brother is offered a scholarship to Gotham Academy on what feels like a whim, the world shifts. 

When your mother still works, though, it means you are the de-facto adult during the day. Your job keeps your busy in the mornings, hers during the afternoon and night. You’re just getting into learning what it’s like to handle a job and bills of your own, even though you’re still living with your family (part of it is to save money, part of it is because you just don’t want to leave). Your family is the only real home you have ever known. Why leave to only find inadequate housing where you have to worry about your safety and theirs separately?

So, like every month, you swap out of your work clothes, put on your newest (at least 2 years old) pair of jeans on, the only blouse you own that hasn’t faded or stretched or shrunk from countless wash cycles, and grab the bag you’ve stored in its own special place in the cabinet by your family’s loud, old, run-down fridge. 

You chance a ride on the bus, hopeful for no public catastrophes today. You listen to your small, but loved, playlist through the one earbud that works during the ride and you almost want to leap with joy when you step back down on concrete like this is what it is like everyday.

The architecture is a thing to behold. There is no wonder why this is acclaimed as the most prestigious private school in Gotham. Light is everywhere, and it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist. Every month you step on this campus it’s like you’ve never seen it before.

The grounds are meticulously groomed, everything in lines and straight edges. Concrete and nineteenth century buildings both cast heavy, sharp shadows in the late afternoon sun. There are some students lingering about, all grouped up and chattering in their similar uniforms. Compared to public art, haphazard graffiti, and buildings of all shapes and sizes, this place feels foreign. Different. It makes you feel strange and unwelcome; like entering a different world altogether. 

When you enter the pristine, elegant office, the entrance door propped open, there’s two figures you immediately spot: the secretary and the man standing in front of her. Your brother is yet to be found. He’s running late again. 

“Hi, hun, take a seat,” Grace’s sweet voice soothes from her position behind the desk. “He should be here any minute.” The man standing in front and a little to the right of her glances behind for second, casually swiping a look at you, before he turns forward again. 

“Thanks, Grace,” You exhale as you sit down. 

The chairs are nice, soft fabric and cushioned, but small. You so desire to bring up a leg to draw close to you, but it’s impossible without making yourself a human pretzel. And you don’t want to dirty it with your less than perfect shoes so, instead, you chose to bring the bag onto your lap and you pick at your cuticles, resisting to bring your nail to your mouth and chew on it anxiously. 

There’s never been anyone else in here when you’ve come before. Grace can make polite chatter, but then she leaves you in relative silence. It makes you feel anonymous. The man uttering sweet words to the secretary and then glancing at you again before sitting down next to you does not. You stop fidgeting with your hands and intertwine them together instead. 

A flash of the ceiling’s fluorescent lighting on glass against your eyes is what you first get a taste of, then all polish and silver, or something like it, cradling a wrist. The watch looks heavy, expensive. It looks like it could buy your family a newer, safer, apartment in a suburbia far away from here. 

“Hey,” Smooth as honey it drips out, and you are drawn to blue eyes and ebony hair. There’s a softness to his face and his eyes are warm. It would only take an hour, you think before you stop the thought from going any further. An hour to do what? You’re not sure, but the list expands the longer you take him in.

The first thing you ever learned on the streets when you walked by yourself to work was how to be aware, vigilant; on guard. Men were unpredictable creatures who were driven by greed or lust or power, and any of the good ones were swooped up and carried away to better things or dead before any second glances could take place. Or carrying on just fine behind their high fences and impenetrable walls. Just because this one introduces himself first does not mean he has proven otherwise. 

“Hi,” is all you can offer, a quirk of lips to his gesture of kindness.

You glance towards to door before your eyes make their way back to him. The gesture doesn’t offend him. There’s a familiarity to his face, but you decide to not spend time right now trying to figure it out. It already only tells you one thing: this guy is way out of your league. 

Grace gets up from her seat, rounds her desk, and makes her way out of the office, leaving you two alone. You watch her the entire time. 

“You waiting for someone?” 

“Yeah,” You nod even as the word comes out, “My brother.” 

He leans back like he’s got all the time in the world, and there’s a perusal that makes you taste butterflies and gulp down caution at the same time. You wonder if he saw the scuff marks and stains on your worn-out sneakers, or if he notices that you still haven’t had the chance to wash your three-day old hair and that’s why it’s up and back, and that your blouse is definitely from the clearance rack at Goodwill.

“Your favorite one?” 

Out of self-preservation, you try to hide the reaction to the humor you feel, “My only one.”

“I think that’s the same thing.” You almost want to roll your eyes. But there’s a genuineness in his conversation, like he means the words he’s saying to you. Like this isn’t a game. 

“Sure,” You shrug, “You’re allowed to be wrong.” 

“My name’s Richard.” It’s old-fashioned. It’s something you don’t really hear rolled off of tongues in your neck of the woods, that’s for sure. A hand comes out and rests halfway between you and him, and it’s one of the most graceful things you’ve ever witnessed in your entire life. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smile. Your hands stay clasped in your lap. 

“You gotta earn a handshake from my sister,” A voice pops up from the open door way. You swing your head around and watch for a moment as your brother makes his way towards you.

“Hi, J,” Your stand, open your arms wide, bag moved from your lap into one of your hands. His solid presence allows a brief hug before he steps back again. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude--” 

The man sitting next to you has chosen to rise as well and you’re closer than you thought you would be when you turn back to him. You notice now that your height means your eyes literally meet his lips straight on. There’s a curve of a smirk there for a flash of a second before it straightens back out into the smile you saw at first. The rest of your sentence is forgotten. He takes one, two, three steps back.

“You got them all?” The question saves you. Your brother pulls you back to him as you hand him the brown plastic bag. In it? His favorite snacks from the liquor store on the corner (the nearly sold-out, hard-to-come-by ones). 

“Every last one,” Your hands come to his cheeks, turning his face to each side.

You have to reach up now and it strikes you just how much he’s grown even in the past month. You both spend much of your time on the phone with one another. These monthly meetings set-up frequently enough for deliveries and some quick face-to-face time and seldom enough to avoid embarrassment (that’s what he says anyway). 

He brings the chip bag out and holds it up, “You even got these.” 

“Geraldo got them special order just for you.” 

“Tell the old man I said thanks,” He smiles like he’s seven again, spoiled and self-indulgent. “Richard” is still standing behind you and to the side, silent. You can feel his eyes flipping back and forth between the two of you. 

“Of course,” Your hands smooth over his shoulders and brush away imaginary dust. “Mom sends her love and says she’ll try and call you on her lunch in a few hours.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’ll make sure I answer.” 

“Thank you.” You exhale an affectionate sigh. 

Avoidant loner that your brother can be, there’s a reason you both want him here. He’ll be able to do the things you only dreamed of when you were his age. And one day, hopefully, you’ll all be out of this hellhole, onto better things. 

“I gotta go, but thanks for these. Even though you should be saving every penny,” He chides, holding up a finger like his words are somehow a threat. 

“Okay,” You chortle like you wouldn’t give everything up for your brother in a heartbeat. There’s another quick hug before he’s looking back at the man behind you, who is still standing there like some sort of stealth ninja. 

“Like I said man,” He nods and there’s something in his face that changes as he looks at “Richard”, “You gotta earn it.” 

It’s with those parting words that he begins to walk out. You stay stock still for a second before you leap after him, “I wanna hear all about what happened last week with Cara tomorrow on the phone!” 

Your brother, a mile away already on longs legs, shouts something indistinguishable back at you from down the hallway, his figure turning a corner.  

“Who’s Cara?” The voice brings your back to reality. 

You sweep your palms against your jeans and turn back to face the man with a three-piece suit and a watch that probably costs more than 20 years of your salary. Oh God. 

“This girl my brother asked out the other week. I bribed him with some of his favorites so he would tell me what went down.” You shrug your shoulders, not worried about spilling the tea about your brother’s romantic life. 

“Does he know that?” His arms seem to relax a little more and you think you could stare at him all day. 

“Eh,” You say, creeping back towards the open door. Your small crossbody bag is already on you and there’s no reason to sit back down. Richard follows you as you, apparently, both start to make your exit from the office. Nothing about it feels unnatural. “Sometimes you got to persuade instead of demand.” 

“Ha,” There seems to be something you are missing based on the way his mouth curves and his eyes spark, “That’s the truest thing I’ve heard in a long time.” 

“You’re welcome. That’s the only one that comes for free!” Your arms swing back and forth. “Anything else is gonna cost you.” 

The hallways usually feel like a labyrinth here, but you don’t feel lost this time. 

“What forms of payment do you accept?” You pretend to be thinking, but really you’re just glancing between the different features of his face. You’re not sure you’ve ever met someone like him. You’re not sure you ever will again.  

“The bank’s closed right now, actually,” The wariness is back. This guy walks like he’s used to treading on perfectly paved gold streets in his shoes. All you’ve ever known is cracked cement and rusted pipes that burst underground. “But I think it’ll be back up and running soon.” 

He doesn’t falter and there’s no anger or hurt in his expression at the metaphorical rejection. Instead, it looks something like silent patience. Maybe even acceptance. This guy could totally not be interested and you could just be being (too) ambitious. The door to the open courtyard, and your way home, is already before you both. 

“It was nice meeting you Richard,” You say as you begin to take steps forward. Your hands nervously hold the strap across your torso. You take a few more steps before his words turn your head back to him. 

“You can call me Dick,” He says with ease. The tone makes you feel like he’s speaking a language you don’t really understand. His blue eyes seem like they’re on fire; a contradiction, you know. There’s something about him that almost makes you catch your breath. You’ve never been been winded by just looking before. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” You offer, hands squeezing your bag strap. 

“I look forward to earning that handshake next time!” He calls out when you’re several feet away. 

I think you’ll earn a lot more than that, you almost say, but refrain. 

Instead, you wave back to him once before making your way out of the courtyard, caught between staring at your shoes and looking ahead to make sure you’re going to right way. You smile and daydream the entire bus ride home. Blue becomes your favorite color. 

[indigobackfire]

Headcanon ask: 14 and 16 for Phoenix? And 17 and 18 for Sawyer?

Thanks, Marta 😘💕✨

Phoenix

14 - Dancing headcanon

He's not that great of a dancer, he's really tall and lanky and not the most physically active. He is, though, fond of ballroom dancing, which he thinks is romantic and a type of dance he can handle.

Despite not being skillful himself, he's always very impressed by those who are.

Almost forgot to add, he does have that seduction dance ability Veelas got, something almost intuitive to the species, though that type of dance is not one you can do at a casual party, closer to a ritualistic dance, contemporary if you will. It does get people riled up - he tested - which is why he seldom does it (unless it's between four walls, but he'll deny it until his last breath...).

16 - Anger headcanon

Being a Veela he's got a very interesting relationship with anger.

When he was small, the Silverwoods weren't yet completely sure how much Veela he was, until at around 6 or 7 he snapped playing with some boys. He turned into full creature Veela, some of those kids were muggles, and Indigo got hurt trying to bring him back to himself - it was a mess.

From that point on, Clarin and Palmer knew things had to be different in their raising of Phoenix, aware that the Veela tendency towards anger would never go away. He was then extensively taught to channel his emotions, put brain over heart, meditate - with that he grows to be level-headed, kind, calm, overall very sweet.

But despite that, it's always safe to not try him cause you never know when he's had a bad day. He does transform on a few rare occasions while at Hogwarts.

Often, he tries his best to avoid stressful situations - he doesn't like gossip and drama, he hangs out almost exclusively with Rowen, Chiara, and Badeea, he walks away from discussions even if people keep stirring him to stay, he doesn't mind being the wrong one in discussions, and so on. Despite that, he can't escape getting involved with Indigo's shenanigans with the Vaults and R, needless to say, very stressful circumstances.

(Perhaps because of this need to hold himself back that he is so drawn to deranged women.)

Sawyer

17 - Soft spot headcanon

While her mother had a soft spot for the soft outcasts, Sawyer has a soft spot for the nerds, the know-it-alls, the geeks, those kids are her squad, she always takes them under her wing.

She has a soft spot for teaching, tutoring, she loves helping people understand concepts and difficult transfigurations, and making potion recipes easier to memorize, despite this fact she becomes a wizard scientist instead of a professor.

Very soft for her cousin, Vesper. She's a lil gremlin, sweet like Phoenix, unhinged like Ismelda, but very smart, especially since she grew very close to Sawyer.

And her parents, the enthusiastic loving fools, she's very affectionate towards them and the family is very tight-knit, very passionate, she grew up satiated with love.

And this is gonna sound weird, but Sawyer is a parseltongue - which they find out when she's a toddler due to an Ashwinder that winds up in their fireplace -, but she's soft for snakes since she can talk to them.

18 - Favorite possession headcanon

Her Caique birdie, Bubbles, who she carries on her shoulder everywhere she goes.

Additional things would be her jewelry, her collection of fancy quills, an old family tartan, her handy notebook of very essential notes, and her inventions and prototypes.

[delphinidin4]

“Abominable neglect and unkindness”: Fanny Price and Trauma

I have C-PTSD, and it’s really been on my mind as I’ve been rereading Mansfield Park by Jane Austen: her heroine of Fanny Price is so OBVIOUSLY traumatized that I started making notes upon notes upon notes in my kindle copy on her symptoms and their causes. A couple of my followers said they’d be interested to read my analysis if I wrote it up, and it doesn’t take much to encourage me to put a few thousand words on the page screen! So below is my (probably WAY too long) analysis of Fanny Price’s emotional trauma and complex PTSD (a form of PTSD often caused by long-term emotional abuse/neglect). It’s hella long. sorrynotsorry lol

*unleashes inner academic*

Part 1: How Fanny Price Was Traumatized

Trauma 1: She is taken from family and home. 

Okay, imagine this: You’re ten years old. You grew up in a noisy, lower-middle-class family with multiple little siblings and both your parents. You are the oldest girl, and are important to all the members of your family because you act as “playfellow, instructress, and nurse” to your younger siblings. You are also “exceedingly timid and shy”. And suddenly you find out that your mother is SENDING YOU AWAY--far, far away--to aunts and uncle and cousins you’ve never met before, to be raised by THEM instead of your parents. Leaving everything else out of the equation for a second, that by itself would be ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING.  You would feel like your parents didn’t love you and didn’t want you. You weren’t important to them. You might wonder what you did wrong to be sent away. And THEN it turns out you’re NEVER COMING BACK. EVER. Fanny doesn’t see her family again until she is, I think nineteen years old. At first, she doesn’t even have the means to write to her brother William, which was to be her ONLY connection to her family: it seems her parents don’t write to her at all over the course of the novel.

All of this would be bad enough. But to come to a place that was entirely alien to everything you had known... I mean, think about it. This is Mansfield Park, an ENORMOUS house with MANY servants, a completely different way of doing things. There’s MONEY. Even the items around you are of a totally different quality than you’re used to: Austen says of Fanny’s initial impression of Mansfield, “The grandeur of the house astonished, but could not console her. The rooms were too large for her to move in with ease: whatever she touched she expected to injure, and she crept about in constant terror of something or other; often retreating towards her own chamber to cry.” The accent people speak with is probably different. The vocabulary is probably different. And everybody DEFINITELY thought she was under-educated (more about this in a bit) because she didn’t have the education of a gentleman’s daughter--because she ISN’T a gentleman’s daughter. It must have caused her intense culture shock.

Trauma 2: William’s absence

It’s clear that in her childhood in Portsmouth, William is the dearest member of Fanny’s family (see below for a discussion of her parents). When Fanny first arrives at Mansfield, Edmund discovers that, 

dear as all these brothers and sisters generally were, there was one among them who ran more in her thoughts than the rest. It was William whom she talked of most, and wanted most to see. William, the eldest, a year older than herself, her constant companion and friend; her advocate with her mother (of whom he was the darling) in every distress. ‘William did not like she should come away; he had told her he should miss her very much indeed.’ 

Fanny’s one really warm and loving connection seems to be with William, and she is parted from him, first by her move to Mansfield, and then by his going to sea:

Once, and once only, in the course of many years, had she the happiness of being with William. Of the rest [of her Portsmouth family] she saw nothing: nobody seemed to think of her ever going amongst them again, even for a visit, nobody at home seemed to want her; but William determining, soon after her removal, to be a sailor, was invited to spend a week with his sister in Northamptonshire before he went to sea. Their eager affection in meeting, their exquisite delight in being together, their hours of happy mirth, and moments of serious conference, may be imagined; as well as ...the misery of the girl when he left her. Luckily the visit happened in the Christmas holidays, when she could directly look for comfort to her cousin Edmund.

Fanny continues a correspondence with William when he is at sea, but it’s clear that his long absence from her life is very difficult for her.

One final note on her being parted from her family for long intervals: I think we might actually see a sign of this trauma in an emotional flashback later in the book.

For those unfamiliar with complex PTSD, flashbacks don’t always mean that you have a sort of hallucination of a traumatic experience. In the case of complex PTSD and PTSD from early childhood trauma, flashbacks often occur in the form of “emotional flashbacks”: instead of re-experiencing the sensory  input of the traumatic experience (seeing and hearing the experience all over again when triggered), emotional flashbacks consist ONLY of the emotional content of the trauma. They result in sudden rushes of negative emotions such as fear, shame, sorrow, despair, embarrassment, anger, etc. This may be partly because the trigger is acting on so many different traumatic memories at once (the brain can’t just pick out one to show to you) and partly because the traumatic memory being triggered is from so early in your childhood that you don’t have a direct memory of it anymore, just the trauma memory. Emotional flashbacks can be identified by comparing the emotional response to the stimulus: If the emotion is inappropriate for the situation or inappropriately intense, it may well be a flashback.

In this scene, Miss Crawford--whom Fanny does not care for at all--is taking her leave of Fanny: I find it to be illuminating.

And embracing her very affectionately, “Good, gentle Fanny! when I think of this being the last time of seeing you for I do not know how long, I feel it quite impossible to do anything but love you.”

Fanny was affected. She had not foreseen anything of this, and her feelings could seldom withstand the melancholy influence of the word “last.” She cried as if she had loved Miss Crawford more than she possibly could.

It sounds to me as if Fanny is having a negative reaction that is out of proportion for and inappropriate to the situation. Miss Crawford is leaving, and Fanny is GLAD that she is leaving. Nonetheless, she is involuntarily emotionally “affected” by Miss Crawford’s goodbye, and cries far more than is actually in keeping with her feelings. It seems like Fanny is triggered by the leave-taking and “the melancholy influence of the word ‘last’.”  Fanny has had traumatic leave-takings from her family and her beloved William; and things like “This is the last time I’ll see you for who knows how long” must have been said to her before in intensely traumatic situations. So it’s no wonder she gets triggered by this situation’s similarity to those and has an out-sized emotional response. Separations from her family and from William were definitely traumatic to her and reminders of them now trigger trauma responses.

Trauma 3: Emotional neglect by parental figures

Fanny might not have been so badly traumatized by leaving her family and being separated from William if she had had emotional support from adult caregivers. Research has shown that if a child has even ONE adult to whom they can talk openly about their feelings, that can insulate them against the effects of trauma.

Fanny doesn’t have this. Both Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram are emotionally neglectful and distant.* Lady Bertram is pleasant, but is entirely self-centered and doesn’t really GAF about anybody or anything that doesn’t directly affect her. While she never abuses or hurts Fanny with unkindness, she also never comforts her, listens to her, or seems to do anything but get Fanny to fetch and carry for her and do half her sewing for her. There is a total lack of emotional  connection between them until considerably later in the story. 

[*Footnote: Miss Lee is surprisingly absent from the narrative and seems to be of no emotional support to Fanny whatsoever.]

Sir Thomas is worse. While he intends to take good care of Fanny--and to his credit, he does make sure she has her material needs met, is well educated, gets exercise, etc--he cannot be said to be NICE to her. Even when she first arrives, when he is trying his hardest to be kind, Austen says, “Sir Thomas, seeing how much she needed encouragement, tried to be all that was conciliating: but he had to work against a most untoward gravity of deportment.” He’s not good with kids, and he seems to be highly critical of Fanny, especially before his return from Antigua. Apparently he used to terrify her in childhood by catechizing her on her lessons in French in English, which implies he constantly found her wanting. His parting words to her on the beginning of his voyage to Antigua are downright scalding:  “If William does come to Mansfield, I hope you may be able to convince him that the many years which have passed since you parted have not been spent on your side entirely without improvement; though, I fear, he must find his sister at sixteen in some respects too much like his sister at ten.”

JFC, Tommy-boy. Throttle back a little, can’t you?

He’s not popular even with his own daughters: Austen says of Maria and Julia, “Their father was no object of love to them; he had never seemed the friend of their pleasures, and his absence was unhappily most welcome. They were relieved by it from all restraint”. Sir Thomas comes across as a bit of a martinet, always finding fault and always saying no. At best, he doesn’t seem to be at all warm and encouraging, and appears to be almost entirely ignorant, not only of what Fanny’s character is like, but also about his own daughters’ characters.

There’s also the problem of his lack of understanding and compassion for Fanny. She describes him as “all that was clever and good,” but both his cleverness and goodness frequently seem to be lacking. He doesn’t understand Fanny’s feelings any more than he understands those of Maria, sending Edmund to sound Fanny out on the subject of Mr. Crawford because he CANNOT understand how a woman might not love a man that was clever, pleasant and rich. While he provided the money to raise Fanny, his disregard of her is clear when he sends her on a long visit to Portsmouth, where her health suffers. Even Crawford recognizes Sir Thomas’s likeliness to neglect her:

I know Mansfield, I know its way, I know its faults towards you. I know the danger of your being so far forgotten, as to have your comforts give way to the imaginary convenience of any single being in the family. I am aware that you may be left here week after week, if Sir Thomas cannot settle everything ... without involving the slightest alteration of the arrangements which he may have laid down for the next quarter of a year.

Sir Thomas, while priding himself (and being praised by others) as being so kind and clever, has low emotional intelligence and too little care for Fanny. Despite his occasional kindnesses, and her claim on his care as his direct dependent, she is not one of his priorities.

Of course, Fanny’s own parents would have had the strongest effects on her earliest years (especially considering the Prices didn’t seem to have a nanny or governess, so Mrs. Price would have been responsible for all her education, as well).  It’s clear that Fanny’s mother didn’t show her much love in her early childhood: Mrs. Price is described as 

“the ‘mama’ who had certainly shewn no remarkable fondness for her formerly; but this [Fanny] could easily suppose to have been her own fault or her own fancy. She had probably alienated love by the helplessness and fretfulness of a fearful temper, or been unreasonable in wanting a larger share than any one among so many could deserve.” 

We can see Fanny here doing what so many emotionally neglected children do, making excuses for their parents and assuming that the emotional neglect and abuse they suffer are somehow THEIR fault. Many emotionally abused or neglected children believe that they’re too loud, too needy, too much, and even ugly, blaming themselves for their parents’ rejecting and disgusted behavior toward them.

It’s proven, however, when Fanny goes home, that her parents are just as neglectful of her as she felt them to be formerly. Her father is “negligent of his family”, and her mother clearly does not really love her:

Mrs. Price was not unkind; but, instead of gaining on her affection and confidence, and becoming more and more dear, her daughter never met with greater kindness from her than on the first day of her arrival. The instinct of nature was soon satisfied, and Mrs. Price’s attachment had no other source. Her heart and her time were already quite full; she had neither leisure nor affection to bestow on Fanny. Her daughters never had been much to her.* She was fond of her sons, especially of William, but Betsey was the first of her girls whom she had ever much regarded. To her she was most injudiciously indulgent. William was her pride; Betsey her darling; and John, Richard, Sam, Tom, and Charles occupied all the rest of her maternal solicitude, alternately her worries and her comforts. These shared her heart: her time was given chiefly to her house and her servants.

[*Footnote: I have to stop here for a moment and mention poor Susan, whom I like better at every reading. With Mrs. Price only loving her sons and Betsy, with Mary dead and Fanny gone, Susan was for years THE ONLY completely unloved child in the house, which must have been pretty awful. It’s clear that Fanny and Susan have suffered rather similar fates in being raised without love, and Susan only responds more with irritation and Fanny more with tears:  “Susan was only acting on the same truths, and pursuing the same system, which [Fanny’s] own judgment acknowledged, but which her more supine and yielding temper would have shrunk from asserting. Susan tried to be useful, where she could only have gone away and cried”. Please tell me somebody’s written a sequel about Susan?]

Again, while Mr. and Mrs. Price are not CRUEL, they’re not KIND, either. They are deeply emotionally neglectful toward Susan and Fanny, and Mrs. Price shows favoritism for the rest of her children, thus hurting her daughters further. Fanny’s probable surmise when she was sent away that she was not loved or wanted by her parents unfortunately appears to be very true. While an adult like Fanny can rationalize such behavior by her parents (even if it pains her), a child cannot do so, and the Prices’ lack of love for their own daughter must have been traumatizing and contributed to her belief that she can never matter to anybody (more on this in a bit).

Trauma 4: Lack of Companionship: Maria and Julia (and Miss Lee)

Fanny’s education when she arrives at Mansfield is not that of a gentlewoman--hardly surprising, given both her family’s socioeconomic position and her mother’s busy-ness with her family and general indolence. Maria and Julia’s education on scholarly subjects is clearly much stronger (they’re also 2-3 years older than her), and we know that their moral education was neglected, so that they only care about whether Fanny is rich and well-educated like themselves:

They could not but hold her cheap on finding that she had but two sashes, and had never learned French; and when they perceived her to be little struck with the duet they were so good as to play, they could do no more than make her a generous present of some of their least valued toys, and leave her to herself, while they adjourned to whatever might be the favourite holiday sport of the moment, making artificial flowers or wasting gold paper.

They’re generous enough to give her presents (though their least-valued belongings), but not generous enough to actually spend time with her, and it appears that this pattern holds throughout Fanny’s time at Mansfield.

At first, Mrs. Norris, Sir Thomas, and Miss Lee all think her actually stupid instead of just ill-educated: we are told that not only did Miss Lee “[wonder] at her ignorance,” but

A mean opinion of her abilities was not confined to [Sir Thomas and Mrs. Norris]. Fanny could read, work [that means “sew”], and write, but she had been taught nothing more; and as her cousins found her ignorant of many things with which they had been long familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some fresh report of it into the drawing-room.

You would think that the adults at least would realize that Fanny hadn’t had the opportunity of a gentlewoman’s education, but no, they attribute it to natural stupidity instead of opportunity:

“My dear,” their considerate aunt would reply, “it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be as forward and quick at learning as yourself.”

It is only Edmund who perceives that Fanny is not only NOT stupid, she’s actually clever:

He knew her to be clever, to have a quick apprehension as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself. Miss Lee taught her French, and heard her read the daily portion of history; but he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgment: he made reading useful by talking to her of what she read, and heightened its attraction by judicious praise.

One wonders, if a sixteen-year-old boy hadn’t decided to undertake part of Fanny’s education himself, how much worse off would she have been?

That Fanny’s companionship fell almost entirely to a teenage boy six years her senior who spends most of the year away at boarding school/university, is a ringing indictment of the behavior of Maria and Julia, and of those who should have been encouraging them to make a friend of their cousin.

Trauma 5: Mrs Norris (who gets a fucking section all her own)

Here we are. We’ve finally come to it. The other four traumas would certainly have been sufficient to cause C-PTSD, but JFC, Mrs. Norris could have caused it all by her lonesome. While she comes across as amusing in Austen’s sardonic style, she is absolutely toxic for Fanny’s mental health.

Mrs. Norris seems to have had an out-sized effect on the three Mansfield girls. Generally, mothers were in charge of the education of their daughters (even if indirectly, through a governess), so while Sir Thomas did examine them on their lessons, it was really supposed to be Lady Bertram’s job to see to their practical and moral education. But Lady Bertram is an absolute zero, a completely passive character, and Austen says directly that, “To the education of her daughters Lady Bertram paid not the smallest attention.” So it seems like the much more active Mrs. Norris stepped in, and her influence was extremely strong with all three of them, despite her being married and having her own house and her own concerns for the first seven or so years of Fanny’s time at Mansfield.

We can see her influence with all three in the fact that all three of the Mansfield girls end up evaluating themselves in almost perfect accordance to how Mrs. Norris evaluated them. Maria, the golden child*, became very spoiled and proud and thought she could do almost whatever she wanted. Fanny, the scapegoat, came to believe that her only worth was in being “useful” (Mrs. Norris’s hobby-horse) and that she could never be of any importance to anybody. And Julia, while closer to Maria’s level of treatment than Fanny’s, also suffers from comparisons to the golden child:

That Julia escaped better than Maria was owing, in some measure, to a favourable difference of disposition and circumstance, but in a greater to her having been less the darling of that very aunt, less flattered and less spoilt. Her beauty and acquirements had held but a second place. She had been always used to think herself a little inferior to Maria.

[*footnote: Treating one child as the golden child and one as the scapegoat is a very common tactic of abusive caregivers. The scapegoat becomes entirely worn down in self-esteem so that she is powerless to fight back against the abuse. The golden child and other children see how the scapegoat is treated and try hard not to rock the boat because they don’t want to end up like that.]

Mrs. Norris teaches Fanny from the beginning to judge and reject her own natural emotions. On her first traumatic separation from her family, Mrs. Norris lectures her incessantly on how she ought to be HAPPY, not sad:

  Mrs. Norris had been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of her wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude and good behaviour which it ought to produce, and her consciousness of misery was therefore increased by the idea of its being a wicked thing for her not to be happy.

Fanny is taught to regard her own natural feelings as “wicked”, especially when they are a negative reaction to how the Bertram/Norris family treats her. While she can see some of her own feelings as just--when they have been sanctioned by Edmund’s judgment--any feeling that tends away from perfect gratitude toward the Bertram/Norris family she immediately rejects as an immoral response. She frequently takes herself to task at these moments. Anger and resentment are natural responses meant to help us protect ourselves against mistreatment from others, and this self-defending response is entirely squelched by Mrs. Norris’s behavior to her.

Mrs. Norris’s behavior toward Fanny is not only emotionally abusive; it is also at least physically neglectful, if not physically abusive. Despite the fact that everyone agrees that Fanny “is not strong”, Mrs. Norris makes a lot of difficulties in Edmund’s attempts to make sure Fanny has a horse to ride, and also refuses to allow Fanny a fire in the East Room, even in the middle of winter, a privation that ever Sir Thomas thinks bad enough that he countermands it--though doing so with a little explanatory disclaimer to Fanny explaining why Mrs. Norris MEANS well and why Fanny shouldn’t dare to be angry, or indeed anything but immensely and forever grateful for their neglectful treatment of her:

Your aunt Norris has always been an advocate, and very judiciously, for young people’s being brought up without unnecessary indulgences; but there should be moderation in everything. She is also very hardy herself, which of course will influence her in her opinion of the wants of others. And on another account, too, I can perfectly comprehend. I know what her sentiments have always been. The principle was good in itself, but it may have been, and I believe has been, carried too far in your case. I am aware that there has been sometimes, in some points, a misplaced distinction; but I think too well of you, Fanny, to suppose you will ever harbour resentment on that account. You have an understanding which will prevent you from receiving things only in part, and judging partially by the event. You will take in the whole of the past, you will consider times, persons, and probabilities, and you will feel that they were not least your friends who were educating and preparing you for that mediocrity of condition which seemed to be your lot. Though their caution may prove eventually unnecessary, it was kindly meant; and of this you may be assured, that every advantage of affluence will be doubled by the little privations and restrictions that may have been imposed. I am sure you will not disappoint my opinion of you, by failing at any time to treat your aunt Norris with the respect and attention that are due to her.

~*GAAASSSSS-LIGHTINNNNGGGGGGG*~  

“Oh, shit, you’ve been freezing to death here for years because your aunt’s an abusive asshole. Oh, but there are three million excuses for her, and also you’re SO GOOD AND GRATEFUL that I KNOW you’ll never allow yourself to see it for the abuse it was, and aren’t you so GRATEFUL to us all for everything we’ve done for you? We MEANT well. And being abused was good for you anyway. If you ever get mad at your abusers I’ll treat you with withering criticism.” 

*gagggg* I could write an entire essay explicating the gaslighting in that passage ALONE.

I could go on and on about Mrs. Norris’s abusive behavior toward Fanny, but I think most of it’s perfectly obvious to the reader. I think a very interesting argument might be made on whether Mrs. Norris would count as having a form of narcissistic personality disorder--always worried about her own importance, living through her golden child Maria, taking everything out on her scapegoat, insisting always on associating her own value with that of Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram and insisting on Fanny’s status being lower because her own self-esteem is dependent on being as good as her sister Bertram and better than her sister Price. Might be interesting.

Part 2: Fanny Price’s Trauma Responses

Complex emotional trauma expresses itself in a number of symptoms and behaviors. We’ve already talked about emotional flashbacks, and I’m going to look at four more major aspects of Fanny’s trauma responses.

Anxiety and Hypervigilance

People with PTSD often suffer from hypervigilance, where their body is constantly on high alert for threats in their environment. These threats are not only physical threats (resulting in things like jumping really hard at sudden noises) but also interpersonal threats. For instance, whenever I hear people talking really quietly in my house, I stop whatever I’m doing and listen REALLY HARD because I’m worried they’re talking about me and it’s gonna be bad.

Fanny exhibits this same behavior when she has retreated to the East Room when Crawford is in the house to propose to her:

She sat some time in a good deal of agitation, listening, trembling, and fearing to be sent for every moment; but as no footsteps approached the East room, she grew gradually composed, could sit down, and be able to employ herself, and able to hope that Mr. Crawford had come and would go without her being obliged to know anything of the matter.

Nearly half an hour had passed, and she was growing very comfortable, when suddenly the sound of a step in regular approach was heard; a heavy step, an unusual step in that part of the house: it was her uncle’s; she knew it as well as his voice; she had trembled at it as often, and began to tremble again, at the idea of his coming up to speak to her, whatever might be the subject. It was indeed Sir Thomas who opened the door and asked if she were there, and if he might come in. The terror of his former occasional visits to that room seemed all renewed, and she felt as if he were going to examine her again in French and English.

Her trembling at the sound of her uncle’s footsteps looks like hypervigilance, and the fact of her childhood “terror” being “renewed” sounds like she’s having another flashback, since she so strongly associates the presence of her uncle in the East Room with those painful childhood visits. She reacts with physical symptoms of stress, trembling at his approach.

Fanny’s anxiety and hypervigilance also demonstrates itself in her being constantly convinced that people are going to be angry with her. When she turns Mr. Crawford down, for instance, she is CONVINCED that Miss Crawford is going to be furious with her, and fears to meet with her. Edmund tells her Miss Crawford isn’t REALLY angry with her, but cannot convince her:

The promised visit from “her friend,” as Edmund called Miss Crawford, was a formidable threat to Fanny, and she lived in continual terror of it. As a sister, so partial and so angry, and so little scrupulous of what she said... she was in every way an object of painful alarm. ...The dependence of having others present when they met was Fanny’s only support in looking forward to it. She absented herself as little as possible from Lady Bertram, kept away from the East room, and took no solitary walk in the shrubbery, in her caution to avoid any sudden attack.

Fanny is so terrified of a polite confrontation with Miss Crawford, whom she has never seen angry before, that she spends DAYS trying to never be alone so that she’ll feel protected by the presence of company! Of course, when Miss Crawford DOES visit, she’s nothing but friendly. But Fanny’s PTSD couldn’t allow her to believe that until it happened. Her anxiety is intense, and this sort of thing happens repeatedly over the course of the novel.

Over-accommodation of others / people-pleasing

Childhood emotional trauma frequently leads to people-pleasing behavior: doing what you do not want to do simply because someone else wants you to.  To understand this, you have to put yourself into the point of view of a very young child or an infant. Children depend entirely on their caregivers for survival: they are aware of this on an instinctive level. If the caregiver shows them very conditional love, only appearing pleased with them when the child does things they like and displeased when the child does things that inconvenience them, the child quickly learns that they need to please their caregivers in order to survive. “Mom gets angry when I cry--Mom doesn’t like me to cry--if Mom gets angry at me, I could starve to death--I need to not cry.” Obviously this line of thinking happens on a subconscious rather than a conscious level, but it’s incredibly powerful nonetheless. I have found myself in situations where a person with some kind of power over me--a doctor, for instance--shows displeasure with something I say to them, and I INSTANTLY find myself backing off, making light of it, taking back everything I said, etc, even though I very much meant it and it needed to be said. The people-pleasing instinct is very strong and difficult to overcome.

In Fanny’s case, it isn’t just a matter of her caregivers showing her inconsistent love in early childhood. Even as an adult, she is fully aware that she needs to please the Bertrams, or she--and her family!--are SCREWED. She is entirely financially dependent on the Bertrams. If she displeases them, not only can they make her life at Mansfield even MORE uncomfortable than it already is, but they can send her back to Portsmouth. Even worse, they could stop their financial support of William and the financial support they are periodically sending to the rest of her family. Huge things hang on Fanny’s pleasing the Bertrams, and it’s small wonder she has developed the habit of trying to please everybody constantly (even her un-pleasable Aunt Norris).

Fanny repeatedly does things she doesn’t want to do, simply because someone asks or tells her to, even if there’s likely to be no major consequences if she doesn’t. One example is on Miss Crawford’s last visit to Mansfield, when Fanny is trying her darnedest to avoid speaking with her alone:

[Miss Crawford] was determined to see Fanny alone, and therefore said to her tolerably soon, in a low voice, “I must speak to you for a few minutes somewhere”; words that Fanny felt all over her, in all her pulses and all her nerves. Denial was impossible. Her habits of ready submission, on the contrary, made her almost instantly rise and lead the way out of the room. She did it with wretched feelings, but it was inevitable.

Fanny doesn’t want to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny doesn’t NEED to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny could stall, perhaps until Miss Crawford left. Nonetheless, the MOMENT Miss Crawford asks it of her, Fanny does it--even though she’s clearly terrified, feeling it “in all her pulses and all her nerves” (more on this physical reaction later). She acts almost like Ella Enchanted: she literally can’t say no.

Likewise, she doesn’t take opportunities she is offered to do things that she DOES wish to do. After a very long description of how much she wants to dance one evening, when her only chance of a partner is Tom, the following exchange occurs:

When he had told of his horse, [Tom] took a newspaper from the table, and looking over it, said in a languid way, “If you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand up with you.” With more than equal civility the offer was declined; she did not wish to dance. “I am glad of it,” said he, in a much brisker tone, and throwing down the newspaper again, “for I am tired to death.”

Fanny DOES want to dance, and the way that he worded the question, she could very well have said, “Yes, please,” and gotten up to dance with him. He has made it obvious that he doesn’t want to dance, and she has picked up on this and said--not only that they don’t have to dance, but the LIE that she doesn’t WANT to dance--in order to please him. Later Austen points Tom out as a hypocrite when he complains, “It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretence of being asked, of being given a choice, and at the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to do the very thing, whatever it be!” But while it is true that Tom left Fanny LITTLE choice in the matter, it is also true that a stronger character, like Miss Crawford, could probably have found a way to say that she DID want to dance, even with such an unencouraging questioner. Fanny cannot do this: she has been conditioned all her life to give in to people--because her very SURVIVAL has depended on it.

In particular, Mrs. Norris has squelched Fanny’s independence of spirit very firmly. At one point she observes, very unfairly,

There is a something about Fanny, I have often observed it before—she likes to go her own way to work; she does not like to be dictated to; she takes her own independent walk whenever she can; she certainly has a little spirit of secrecy, and independence, and nonsense, about her, which I would advise her to get the better of.”

As a general reflection on Fanny, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be more unjust.

Obviously, Mrs. Norris is completely wrong about this. But as long as she can project* the fault of independence on Fanny, and punish Fanny for this false fault, she can prevent her from ever developing it. By picking on the least little supposed sign of independence and harping on it for ages, Mrs. Norris can prevent Fanny from ever developing a will of her own.

[*Footnote: this is another thing narcissists do: they project their own bad behavior on to others. Mrs. Norris is definitely not secretive, but she is very “independent” and has a lot of “nonsense”--instead of consulting with others about what they actually need in any given situation, she TELLS them. She has no spirit of cooperation, and all her “services” to others tend to be officious and useless.]

Low self-esteem

I thought about putting this together with the section on Mrs. Norris, because Fanny’s self-esteem has been so much shaped by her aunt. This is the kind of message Mrs. Norris is constantly drilling into her about the lowness of her importance:

The nonsense and folly of people’s stepping out of their rank and trying to appear above themselves, makes me think it right to give you a hint, Fanny, now that you are going into company without any of us; and I do beseech and entreat you not to be putting yourself forward, and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one of your cousins—as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia. That will never do, believe me. Remember, wherever you are, you must be the lowest and last.

This message is so entirely in keeping with the messages Mrs. Norris has been indoctrinating Fanny with over the years that she has fully internalized it. When a primary caregiver tells you over and over again that you do not matter to anyone, you come to believe it:

[Fanny:] “I can never be important to any one.”

[Edmund:] “What is to prevent you?”

“Everything. My situation, my foolishness and awkwardness.”

“As to your foolishness and awkwardness, my dear Fanny, believe me, you never have a shadow of either, but in using the words so improperly. There is no reason in the world why you should not be important where you are known. You have good sense, and a sweet temper, and I am sure you have a grateful heart, that could never receive kindness without wishing to return it. I do not know any better qualifications for a friend and companion.”

“You are too kind,” said Fanny, colouring at such praise; “how shall I ever thank you as I ought, for thinking so well of me.”

Fanny’s “I can never be important to any one” sounds very much like a triggered teenager sobbing, “Nobody will ever love me!” even while friends next to her are demonstrating that they DO love her. The survivor of this kind of abuse comes to a place where their beliefs do not reflect reality because their beliefs instead reflect the intense emotional rejection they have received from their main caregivers*. Fanny is important to Edmund, William, and Lady Bertram, but is convinced that she not only is NOT important to ANYONE, but never CAN be. She also convinced that she is foolish and awkward, probably by the early experiences at Mansfield when she didn’t know all the intricate rules of high society and was far behind Maria and Julia in her education. Fanny, though she is extremely shy, manages to carry off most things with surprising grace, and she is clever and has a wisdom and common sense in some things far beyond her years. Yet she is CERTAIN that she is “foolish and awkward”, because she has been repeatedly called so by authority figures in her life and almost all of her family at Mansfield.

[*Footnote: these extreme beliefs are often couched in “black-and-white” language: “EVERYBODY hates me, NOBODY loves me, I’ll NEVER be able to do it right, I’ll be alone FOREVER”. We can hear this in Fanny’s “I can NEVER be of importance to ANY ONE”.]

Fanny not only thinks very lowly of herself, she also is afraid of being praised or of anything that could possibly raise her self-esteem. For instance, in a discussion with Edmund, she explains why she never wants anybody to notice her:

[Edmund:] “Your uncle is disposed to be pleased with you in every respect; and I only wish you would talk to him more. You are one of those who are too silent in the evening circle.”

[Fanny:] “But I do talk to him more than I used. I am sure I do. Did not you hear me ask him about the slave-trade last night?”

“I did—and was in hopes the question would be followed up by others. It would have pleased your uncle to be inquired of farther.”

“And I longed to do it—but there was such a dead silence! And while my cousins were sitting by without speaking a word, or seeming at all interested in the subject, I did not like—I thought it would appear as if I wanted to set myself off at their expense, by shewing a curiosity and pleasure in his information which he must wish his own daughters to feel.”

“Miss Crawford was very right in what she said of you the other day: that you seemed almost as fearful of notice and praise as other women were of neglect.”

She is literally fearful of notice and praise--because Mrs. Norris has told her repeatedly throughout her life that she must NEVER shine more than Maria or Julia, must NEVER take attention away from them--a sort of vicarious narcissism. And Fanny feels that to receive a compliment, to state her own opinions, or even to TALK much in company is “stepping out of her place”, the high crime and misdemeanor of Mrs. Norris’s upbringing.

I was raised by a narcissistic caretaker, and I am sometimes suddenly overwhelmed with terror that I’m taking too much attention to myself and that I’m therefore BAD somehow. Because a narcissist (or their proxy, the golden child) must always be the center of attention, the scapegoat is emotionally punished for ever taking the spotlight. Mrs. Norris is disposed to be upset when Sir Thomas holds a dance in Fanny’s honor, and is only reconciled to it because SHE will be able to make herself the center of attention in the preparations.*

[*Footnote: I think another argument can be made for Mrs. Norris’s narcissism in her response to Crawford’s proposal to Fanny:

Angry she was: bitterly angry; but she was more angry with Fanny for having received such an offer than for refusing it. It was an injury and affront to Julia, who ought to have been Mr. Crawford’s choice; and, independently of that, she disliked Fanny, because she had neglected her; and she would have grudged such an elevation to one whom she had been always trying to depress.

Mrs. Norris is DETERMINED to put Fanny down, as the scapegoat, and is offended that one of her golden children (her emotional stand-in) is shown less honor in this situation than the scapegoat. For the scapegoat to be elevated and her narcissistic stand-in to be neglected induces a narcissistic rage.] 

“Sensibility” and High Sensitivity

In the 18th century, a theory and “culture of sensibility” grew up in places like Britain, France, Holland, and the British colonies. Encyclopedia.com’s article on sensibility states, “Sensibility (and ‘sensible’ and ‘sentiment’) connoted the operation of the nervous system, the material basis for consciousness.” But the workings of the nervous system, they believed, affected more than just the physical body. Some people, it was held, had greater sensibility than others: their nerves were more easily affected by not only physical but also emotional and moral input, and they responded accordingly--not just in word and in deed, but in tears, blushes, trembling, fainting, etc. It was believed that people’s emotional responses AND physical responses could tell you something about their physical AND moral makeup. A truly modest woman, for instance, would blush and look confused when confronted with something that offended her maidenly modesty. A woman--or indeed, man--who was truly moral and “sensible” would be emotionally affected by something sad, such as a tale of oppression, to the point of openly weeping. A heroine of sensibility would most likely faint if threatened with something she found, not only physically frightening, but morally abhorrent (such as a forced marriage). This is part of the reason for what seems to use like excessive emotional reactions in some 18th-century novels: the writer is demonstrating her characters’ moral superiority through their physical sensibility.*

[*Footnote: Encyclopedia.com adds, “The coexistence of reason and feeling was assumed, but the proportion of each was endlessly debated, above all because of what many saw as the dangers of unleashed feelings... [After the French Revolution,]  The debate over the proportions of reason and feeling in persons of sensibility was politicized, and the need for women to channel their feelings toward moral and domestic goals was reemphasized. The word ‘sentimental,’ which had been used positively, became a label for ‘excessive sensibility’ and self-indulgence.” We can see this conflict clearly in Austen’s Sense and Sensibility!]

There is, in fact, a modern equivalent to the 18th century idea of sensibility: the concept of the Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) or Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS). First proposed by Elaine Aron's book The Highly Sensitive Person (1996), the theory suggests that SPS 

is a temperamental or personality trait involving "an increased sensitivity of the central nervous system and a deeper cognitive processing of physical, social and emotional stimuli". The trait is characterized by "a tendency to 'pause to check' in novel situations, greater sensitivity to subtle stimuli, and the engagement of deeper cognitive processing strategies for employing coping actions, all of which is driven by heightened emotional reactivity, both positive and negative". (wikipedia)

While some people have mocked this theory as pseudoscience, Aron is by no means the only researcher to have studied it, and a great many people who suffered from people telling them “You’re too sensitive” when they were hurt have taken comfort in the positive affirmation that high sensitivity is a natural phenomenon and can even at times be regarded as a strength rather than a character flaw.

It seems to me that there is a good deal of overlap between those who self-identify or may be identified as HSPs and those who have C-PTSD. Whether this is because greater emotional sensitivity leads to a greater incidence of traumatic responses to negative experiences, or whether high sensitivity is itself a product of repeated childhood trauma, I can’t say. (Heck, it could even be that the HSP’s belief that they’re over-sensitive comes from childhood gaslighting!)

What I can say is that Fanny Price exhibits, not only hypervigilance, but also what Austen would call “great sensibility” and I would call “SPS”. Fanny has the greatest sensibility of any character in the entire novel, even Edmund: she judges more clearly on moral matters than Edmund or Sir Thomas, and has the strongest physical and emotional reactions to stimuli. She seems to be constantly blushing, trembling, or tearing up. This is not only painful to modern readers (who, if they’re not pained by sympathizing with her, may well be pained by what seems to them a lack of proper 21st-century backbone in a main character) but is clearly highly uncomfortable at times to Fanny herself. She might be able to pride herself on her moral discernment (not that Fanny would EVER pride herself on ANYTHING), and she may be in transports of happiness when something good, like William’s arrival or promotion, occur, but she is often “cast down” as well by things that seem to others like trifles. We see this not only in her hypervigilance but also in the depression and the black-and-white thinking which are often the products of trauma. Edmund observes to her, “It is your disposition to be easily dejected and to fancy difficulties greater than they are.” Fanny’s apparent high sensitivity may be just a natural trait (made worse by trauma) or may itself be a product of trauma.

Conclusions

At the end of all this, I’m really not sure what I think about Fanny’s “happy ending”. On one hand, she gets what she’s always wanted in life: companionate marriage with Edmund, valued by Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram, with Mrs. Norris (and Maria) gone forever, and Julia and Tom chastened and better behaved. It seems perfect for her. But a little voice inside of me keeps saying how very unlikely it is. People rarely change as much as Sir Thomas does in the book--and in fact, we are only assured by Austen that Sir Thomas comes to value Fanny more: we don’t actually SEE it. I can’t help but feel that Fanny must still have been subject to ongoing gaslighting about how she was brought up and about respect toward Mrs. Norris and himself. Fanny got what she thought she wanted, but at the same time, she didn’t get free. Especially considering that Austen goes out of her way to say that things COULD have turned out differently and that Fanny and Crawford COULD have been happy together, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Fanny had ended up with the ONLY person in the entire book who truly recognizes how badly she has been treated at Mansfield Park:

[Crawford]: And they will now see their cousin treated as she ought to be, and I wish they may be heartily ashamed of their own abominable neglect and unkindness.

[pines-troz]

Weekend With The Warners: Chapter Eight

Summary: When the CEO assigns Pinky and The Brain with the important task of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.

Warning: The last third of this chapter includes animal testing (albeit not a graphic depiction) as well as PTSD and trauma.

Word Count: 11,403

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/75446471

Before the break of dawn, Brain awoke from his slumber to find his left arm trapped underneath his slumbering partner. The mouse prided himself on being the big spoon, there were moments where he preferred to be the little spoon. He loved feeling the warmth from Pinky's soft fur while contentedly nestling in the taller mouse's affectionate embrace. Try as he might, Brain could never fully achieve success as the big spoon. While he tried his hardest to assert his protective nature when he wrapped his arms around his tall partner, he always felt like a little backpack.

Brain snaked his left arm, which fell numb from supporting Pinky's weight. Feeling an itch underneath his chin, he took his right hand to ameliorate the situation only to feel the scruffy grey hairs growing from his ivory fur. The mouse groaned in irritation. He was going to take Pinky and the Warners out for an exquisite brunch at an upscale restaurant and he needed to clean up if he wanted to blend in with the other patrons. Well, about as much as a small laboratory mouse escorting three toon children of indeterminate species could.

Not wanting to wake Pinky up, Brain carefully snuck out of bed and trotted over to the bathroom to shave. However, the mouse didn't take into account that only two of the Warners were still snoozing in the other bed.

When Brain opened up the bathroom door, he was shocked to find a most horrifying sight.

"Oh, dear God!" The small mouse shouted as he stared at Yakko, still dressed in his pajamas, setting up a guillotine while happily humming the tune to 'Yakko's World'.

"What, in the name of Socrates's tainted tongs, are you doing with that guillotine?" Brain demanded.

"Oh, this old thing" Yakko mentioned, pointing a thumb at the execution device. "Well, I'm in a little bit of a dilemma. This morning I woke up to find little hairs growing around my face." The teen explained. Taking out a magnifying glass from his hammerspace, he leaned towards Brain to show him the few, practically microscopic black hairs that sprouted around his face. "So naturally, I figured that I shave off those pesky facial hairs before going out for brunch."

Brain smacked his paw against his giant head. "Yakko, I admire your eagerness, but a guillotine is not considered to be a proper tool for shaving." The mouse headed over towards the execution device, which was supported by small black wheels, and pushed it as hard as his little mouse body would allow. "Perhaps we should set aside this device for more serious matters, like dealing with corrupt politicians or heartless billionaires." He explained as he pushed the guillotine out of the bathroom, which then disappeared upon crashing into the wall.

"Well, then how else am I gonna shave." Yakko inquired impatiently.

"With a razor, Robespierre," Brain sarcastically answered.

"Oh, I gotcha!" Yakko acknowledged with a grin. The teen reached into his hammerspace once more and retrieved an old Motorola Razr model flip phone.

Brain frowned indignantly with furrowed brows. "Now you're just teasing me." Yakko flashed a playful smile in response.

"Allow me to assist you in the proper etiquette of shaving." The pudgy mouse remarked as he took the tape measure elevator up to the counter. "There should be some shaving cream, exfoliator scrub, after-shave cream, and a couple of disposable razors in the drawer."

"Since when do mice grow facial hair anyway?" Yakko asked.

"A strange inquiry coming from the boy who summoned a guillotine out of thin air." Brain responded in a sardonic tone. "No, it's impossible for the average mouse to grow facial hair. I believe that this is yet another side effect of having gone through the gene splicer, in addition to having an increased life span and the ability to take in a comical amount of pain."

"Now go fetch me the necessary tools from the drawer." Brain firmly commanded. "There should be some shaving cream, exfoliator scrub, a couple of disposable razors, and a bottle of after-shave."

Yakko opened up the drawer and saw two navy blue razors covered with a plastic shield and a blue bottle of shaving cream. "You mean these things?" The teen inquired as he held them up.

"Yes, Yakko," Brain answered as he headed towards the sink faucet. With tiny paws, he lifted the rod and turned on the handles. He looked over at Yakko, who began to shake the bottle of shaving cream. Just as he started to dispense some of the creams, Brain approached the teen.

"Now let's not get too excited with the shaving cream. You must first wash your face." The mouse explained. Once the sink was filled with an appropriate amount of water, he turned it off. Cupping his hands, Brain dipped them into the warm water and spread them across his face. "The warm water will relax your skin and make it more receptive to the razor and less prone to razor bumps."

Yakko copied Brain's instructions. But then his playful side kicked in when he dunked his gloved hands into the sink and flicked a few droplets of water onto Brain. The mouse flinched the moment he was assaulted by the sink water.

"Yakko," Brain grumbled.

"Sorry, teach!" Yakko playfully apologized.

For the next five minutes, Brain continued to teach Yakko the proper shaving etiquette. While the teen got a little overboard with applying too much shaving cream, he managed to do a decent job with his first go at shaving. Brain was thankful that Yakko didn't do anything remotely crazy while using the disposable razor. After they rinsed off with cold water, Brain taught the teen how to apply the after-shave.

Once the little impromptu shaving lesson was complete, Yakko admired his clean-shaven face, feeling like a million bucks. Brain smiled at his eager pupil. "Well, I commend you for your quick learning." The big-headed mouse complimented.

"Thanks, Brain," Yakko replied. "Though, I gotta ask you something, who taught you how to shave anyway?"

"I taught myself," Brain answered. "I learned most, if not all, of the important life skills all on my own and without any assistance."

The room grew silent. Yakko stared at the mouse with a concerned expression. Brain seldom brought up his life as a laboratory mouse. "So no one taught you anything?"

Brain only shook his head. "I was only a young child when scientists separated me from my family and home in the wilderness to be incarcerated at Acme Labs."

Yakko instinctively rubbed the back of his head, feeling a pang of empathy for the mouse. He knew what it was like to be self-reliant at a young age, but he never had any loving paternal figures before he was locked away at the tower alongside his younger siblings. Even still, the teen was curious about Brain's youth and carefully crafted his question before speaking up.

"Do you remember anything about your parents?"

Brain's eyes widened at the eldest Warner's inquiry. It was an innocent question born from genuine interest and curiosity. So the mouse decided to provide a satisfactory answer. "My memories of my early childhood are fairly hazy, but there are aspects of it I distinctly remember. The warmth of my parents' fur whenever they embraced me, their ruby red eyes that glimmered in the sun, the richness of my mother's milk, and the nights spent snuggling close to them as we slumbered in our tin-can home."

Yakko noticed the sad smile on Brain's face as he reminisced of his early youth. The teen couldn't imagine how horrifying it must be to be permanently separated from his family. "And you never saw them again?"

Brain looked at the eldest Warner. "Well I did encounter my parents years later, but the reunion was not as joyful as it could have been."

"What happened?" Yakko asked.

"Let's just say that they don't necessarily approve of my life choices, save for having Pinky as my roommate." Brain answered flatly.

"Ah," Yakko noted. The teen felt sorry for the mouse and tried his best to provide some consolation. "Well, at least you got to see your parents again,"

"Yes," Brain muttered, casting his eyes down on the countertop.

Yakko sadly frowned, noting that his words of comfort didn't do the trick. He drummed his fingers on the countertop. There was something else that Yakko needed to get off his chest, but he didn't know how well to articulate it. "Well, you're not the only one who had to learn everything on their own."

Brain looked up at the eldest Warner. The mouse thought back to the early days of his acting gig on Animaniacs, and the various stories he heard about the three troublesome toon siblings who were locked up by the studio for over sixty years because they were too much to handle. When he first heard of these tales, the mouse was initially intimidated by the toon children due to the sheer chaos they possessed. But as he and Pinky got to know their co-stars, Brain's fears melted away, and as he pondered over their backstory, he became sympathetic to their plight. He couldn't begin to imagine the difficulties the children faced of being isolated in a water tower for so long. This hardship must have been harrowing for poor Yakko, who had to learn everything on his own on top of having to care for his two younger siblings.

Brain rubbed his left arm up and down. "I guess so," he said softly. As much as the mouse wanted to ask questions about the teen's upbringing, he couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead, he wanted to reassure the boy.

Brain looked up at Yakko and carefully approached his hand, which was leaning on the countertop. "I am well aware of the unfair circumstances that forced you to become the sole caregiver of your dear siblings," he gingerly addressed. "And while you have done a tremendous job, you should not have to be the only one providing for your family."

Yakko was stunned by what he was hearing. He gave an astonished look at the mouse, who placed his firm, yet gentle paws over his hand.

Brain stared up at the eldest Warner with a steadfast expression on his face. "I don't know what it's like to be an older sibling, but I recognize the responsibility that comes with taking care of the ones you love."

Yakko didn't have to be a rocket scientist to realize that Brain was referring to his dearest Pinky. Ever since he first met them in the early nineties, the mice were as close as can be and were always seen together whenever they went about in the studio lot. Much like how he was always with his siblings whenever they caused playful pandemonium.

"And if you need any help, you can always call upon myself and Pinky." Brain solemnly offered. "We're more than happy to assist you in any way if you so choose."

Yakko was surprised to hear such a suggestion coming from Brain. Wakko and Dot were already enamored with the idea of having mouse parents, and the mice were willing to step up to the plate. Perhaps he no longer had to bear the solitary responsibility of taking proper care of his siblings. What's more, the constant attention he would receive from two guardians was another enticing aspect of the deal.

"Well Brain, I just might take your offer into consideration!" He responded with an eager smile. The teen carefully scooped the big-headed mouse into his hands.

Brain allowed a small smile to cross his lips. He was finally getting through to the boy!

"And Brain," Yakko spoke up. "I forgot to tell you this earlier, but I wanna thank you for helping Wakko find his drawing from the library."

The mouse's ears perked upwards at the grateful tone.

"It made my sib's day and I'm grateful that you went the extra mile for them," Yakko explained with a smile.

At that moment, Brain was speechless. What he once saw as another wacky situation was seen as a genuine act of kindness. "You're welcome." He quietly replied.

The sudden noise of bouncing bed springs followed by jovial laughter reached their ears. Brain and Yakko emerged from the bathroom to find Wakko and Dot playfully wrestling on the bed while Pinky cheered on, thrusting his purple pom-poms into the air.

"Alright, that's enough roughhousing children!" Brain alerted the two Warners in a slightly strict tone before turning his attention towards his partner. "And quit enabling their shenanigans, Pinky!"

"Oops, sorry Brain," Pinky quickly apologized with a hint of regret in his tone.

Brain leaped off of Yakko's hands and landed on top of the mattress. "Now, I'm taking you all out for breakfast and I want you all to dress to impress!"

-                     -                        -                             -                            -

The group was seated at the round table at the nearest upscale restaurant, happily enjoying their brunch. Everyone dressed their best for the special meal. Pinky wore a flowy strawberry-printed dress, Brain wore a purple blazer and matching skater skirt, a black turtleneck sweater, and a gold chain necklace. Yakko wore a billowy puffy white shirt with rainbow suspenders attached to his brown slacks, Wakko wore a red-and-black plaid kilt in addition to their blue sweater, and Dot wore a red T-shirt and blue overalls with a small rainbow across the front.

Everything was running smoothly during their brunch. Brain indulged himself and Pinky in the finest dishes on the menu. The Warners even made the effort to be zany to a moderate degree. They all engaged in playful conversation. Brain looked over to see how happy Yakko was, laughing with his siblings. Some of the other patrons looked at the toon children with a mix of fear or disgust, but Brain didn't care. As long as they were happy, then he was happy.

While they waited for the check to come in, Brain took a spoon and gently tapped it on the side of his glass of water. "Attention!" He called out.

The Warners and Pinky turned their attention towards the big-headed mouse. Wakko was especially excited. "Are we gonna bust into an elaborate musical number?" He asked, taking out a pair of drumsticks from their hammerspace.

"That won't be necessary, Wakko." Brain addressed. "Now, since our day is winding down, I have one more important activity for us to engage in after we check out of the hotel and bring your luggage back to the studio lot."

"Are we gonna help you take over the world?!" Dot asked excitedly.

"A valid guess, but no." Brain answered though he was pleased to hear the Warner sister's suggestion come off as genuine. "Instead, we shall spend the afternoon at the park!"

"Poit! We'll play all sorts of games, like frisbee, and flying kites, and pet any doggies that walk by!" Pinky joyfully added.

The Warners exchanged eager glances at each other. "And if we're lucky, we can drop by the Wheel of Morality!" Yakko suggested.

"Egad, that sounds fun-fun, silly-willy!" Pinky cheered.

The waitress approached the table and handed Brain the black flipbook that contained the check. The mouse thanked the waitress and proceeded to inspect the check. The expensive brunch totaled two-hundred and fifty dollars and twenty-four cents. He was grateful that the studio would be paying for this extravagant expense. Without a word, Brain retrieved the golden credit card and placed it in the folder, slapped the flipbook shut, and returned it to the waitress.

Despite the wacky antics, he endured all weekend long, he was thankful to have his fine-dining experience.

-                     -                        -                             -                            -

A blue Uber van pulled up at the front of the Warner Bros. Studio lot. Once the side door opened, the Warners and the mice quickly emerged from the vehicle with their luggage in tow. Brain piloted his mechanical human suit once again, grabbing some of the suitcases. He was thankful that the process of checking out of the hotel and commuting back to Burbank went off without a hitch. Once the van sped off, the group looked up at the studio lot.

"Home again, home again," Yakko blissfully sighed.

"Unfortunately, the CEO doesn't want any of us to set foot in the lot until sunset." Brain advised the Warners. "Why don't I fly over to the water tower and drop off your belongings there before we head to the park."

The Warners happily agreed, giving the mouse the rest of their luggage. "Pinky and I will be back in a minute, so don't do anything rash while we're gone."

"We weren't planning on it, since neither of us has any ointment," Wakko replied.

"And remember, the door's a pull, not a push!" Yakko quickly added.

"Duly noted," Brain acknowledged as he started his engines. The jet boosters in his shoes ignited and the suit was launched into the air.

Dot's eyes widened with excitement as she felt her hair and skirt blow through from the suit's jet engines. She remembered the excitement on Wakko's face when he gushed over how fun it was to ride on Brain's suit. Not wanting to be left out, the Warner sister wanted a piece of the action.

The girl reached into her hammerspace and took out a megaphone. "Hey Brain, I just remembered that I forgot something in the water tower and I need to go get it."

The mice heard her request. Brain yanked the controls, turning the suit around to retrieve the Warner sister.

Dot bounced in excitement when she saw the suit fly down.

But Yakko grew suspicious of his sister. "Do you even need to go back to the water tower?"

"No," Dot casually admitted with a confident smile.

But before any of her siblings could react, Dot was swept off of her feet and carefully secured in Brain's mechanical arms. The task of balancing the Warner sister and the various suitcases proved to be a challenge, but not an impossible feat. After shifting his position, he found a satisfactory position and maintained his steadiness over the controls.

The first thing she felt was the wind flowing through her fur. She then glanced down at the various buildings in the studio, admiring the aerial perspective of her beloved abode.

Dot's eyes widened as she observed the movie lot from above. "Woah,"

"Isn't it so much fun!" Pinky exclaimed from the comfort of the coat pocket.

"The greatest!" She eagerly replied.

Brain allowed a small smirk as he listened to their conversation.

But the fun didn't last long when Brain shifted the controls of his suit just before they arrived at the water tower. With a hard tug, he managed to stop the suit before it could collide with the water tower door. He carefully placed Dot down on the steps first before proceeding to drop the luggage.

Dot opened up the Warner Bros. logo door open, gesturing the mice to enter. She swiftly turned on the light switch, illuminating her humble home. The interior of the water tower was in a somewhat pristine state, ignoring the crumpled up bags of potato chips and napkins scattered across the floor.

Pinky hopped out from the pocket and landed on the floor with a thud. Laughing off the pain, he got up and explored the interior of the water tower. "Poit! A lot has changed since the last time we were up in the water tower." He observed.

"Yup," Dot agreed. "My siblings and I made some adjustments to keep up with the times."

The mice looked at the three bunk beds stacked on top of each other. But Brain wore a frown when he noticed Yakko's bed was merely a ball pit.

"Is that supposed to be Yakko's bed?" Brain addressed, pointing the suit's hand over to the ball pit.

Dot hummed and nodded in response. The smaller mouse rolled his eyes. "I bet his chiropractor is having a field day."

His eyes then darted over to a few books scattered near the bunk beds. There were a few amoral paperback romance novels that must have belonged to Yakko. But among the myriad of inappropriate literature laid the cover of a particular picture book that featured a colorful red and green caterpillar. The innocent-looking bug caught Brain's attention and he gingerly picked up the book. As he inspected the book cover, his mind began to flashback to the early years of his acting career.

Warner Movie Lot, 1992

Pinky skipped gaily, tugging Brain by his wrist as he led his roommate over to the iconic yellow and red water tower that lay in the heart of the movie studio. Brain stared up at the tower, trying his best to conceal his fear of the Warner siblings.

The mice just started their work as actors after a plan to take over the world gone wrong had serendipitously landed them starring roles in an upcoming variety show called Animaniacs, which was set to air the following year. Brain intended to use this opportunity of acting in a prestigious television program to gain the admiration of the masses who would pledge their unyielding loyalty to him as Earth's leader. However, the megalomaniacal mouse rarely interacted with the other co-stars and crew members. His years in the lab instilled a distrust towards humans that was hard to shake off, and he mostly kept to himself. But Pinky seemed to be living his best life on the set. Always chatting with the cast and crew members and charming them with his cheerful disposition.

While on the set, Brain heard numerous horror stories from various crew members about the three toon children who recently escaped from the water tower and caused all sorts of chaos all over the movie lot. And it just so happened that one of Pinky's newfound friends was the Warner sister, Dot.

She initially invited Pinky over to the water tower to play dress-up, but the obtuse mouse insisted that he bring along Brain as well, and the girl was not opposed to having an extra guest in her home.

The mice arrived at the bottom of the water tower. Brain stared up at the yellow and red water tank, calculating how he and Pinky could reach the top. He regretted not bringing his human suit along for the playdate. But before he could come up with a plan, the water tank began to descend as if it was an elevator. Once the tank hit the ground, the Warner Bros. shield opened to reveal Wakko and Dot wearing admittedly adorable bellboy uniforms. Pinky clapped his hands and hopped on each foot upon seeing two of the Warners siblings.

"Going up?" Wakko inquired.

"What other option do I have?" Brain dryly remarked as he followed Pinky through the door. Once the mice entered the water tower, Dot slammed the door shut and Wakko pulled the lever, causing the water tank to ascend back to its original place.

Wakko and Dot swiftly took off their uniforms to reveal their regular attire; Wakko dressed in their signature oversized blue sweater and backward red cap while Dot wore her pink skirt and yellow flower hair tie.

The Warner sister approached Pinky and scooped him up into her hands. "Oh, it's so good to see you again!" She chirped as she twirled around, causing the lanky mouse to laugh heartily.

"Thank you for inviting Brain and me over to your house. Narf!" Pinky exclaimed. "Oh, I know we're going to all have a fun-fun, silly-willy time together!"

"I should show you my new playhouse and all the doll clothes I recently bought!" Dot suggested.

"Oh, that sounds like tons of fun!" Pinky merrily replied.

Brain looked over at the two with a raised brow. While he was secretly glad that Pinky was occupied in his own inane activities, he was at a loss of what to do. He was stuck in the infamous water tower and had to endure the chaos of the Warners for who knows how long.

But his ponderings ceased the moment he was scooped up in the hands of the middle Warner sibling. He looked over at Wakko, who must have sensed his loneliness from being excluded from Pinky and Dot's antics.

"Can we hang out together?" Wakko asked with twinkling eyes.

Brain glanced at Wakko and didn't know what to make of the young toon. After listening to the various stories about him, he was the most chaotic and violent of the trio, always quick to whack people with a mallet or any other cartoonish weapons at their disposal. The mouse decided that it would be best to appease the middle child in the hopes of forging a solid acquaintance so that he would not face their wrath.

"I would be delighted to accompany you in whatever activities you have in store." Brain answered with a nervous smile.

"Great!" Wakko cheered, leaping from the floor while holding Brain in their grasp. He bounced over to the couch.

"We could share my snacks and read my favorite story of all time!" Wakko said as he placed the mouse on the sofa before bounding over to the refrigerator. Only seconds have passed when he returned to the couch with a whole platter of different snacks: bags of chips, bananas, different types of cheeses, pudding, and cookies.

Brain stared at the small buffet laid out on the coffee table before looking back at Wakko, who reached into their red cap and took out The Hungry Caterpillar and gave it to him.

The small mouse inspected the cover of the book before glancing back at the snacks and over to Wakko. "Well, I can understand your enthusiasm over this particular book."

"I have never related to any character as much as that caterpillar." Wakko declared with a nod.

"I see," Brain muttered. "Well, to make this activity more interesting, why don't we take turns reading."

"Sounds fun!" Wakko agreed.

For the next five minutes, Brain and Wakko read aloud the story about a caterpillar with an enormous appetite who then turned into a beautiful butterfly. As they took turns reading, Brain noticed the glimmer of joy in Wakko's eyes as he observed the colorful illustrations. Perhaps the young toon was not as bad as he thought and was unfairly mischaracterized by the other studio workers. Once they were finished with the story, they heard the door open. The two glanced over to see Yakko Warner entering the water tower.

Once the eldest Warner shut the door behind him, he glanced around his abode to see his siblings interacting with their co-stars and, presumably, friends. WIth Wakko sitting with Brain and Dot dressing Pinky up in a pink flower hat and purple sunglasses.

"Oh, I didn't know we had company over!" He exclaimed as he gazed at the mice.

Wakko bounced off from the couch and landed in their brother's arms. "Big brother, you've come home!"

Yakko laughed as he carefully placed Wakko back on the ground. "I was busy filming an important song segment about the countries of the world."

"A song about countries? That'll never catch on." Wakko disagreed, giving their older brother a shove.

"Oh, we'll see about that, baby sib." Yakko playfully ruffled Wakko's cap.

"Yakko!" Dot exclaimed, tackling her older brother in a surprise hug.

"Hey, sis!" Yakko replied as he hugged her back. He then glanced over at the two mice: The lanky mouse that wore a purple scarf and the big-headed mouse that was on the couch. "And who else do we have here?"

"Our new co-stars and our new friends," Wakko answered confidently.

Yakko's eyes lit up when he figured out who they were. "Oh yeah, Binky and the Pain, is it?"

"Actually, we're Pinky and The Brain!" Brain corrected as he hopped off the couch and trotted over to the siblings. "But rest assured, Sakko, we're not only your co-stars and acquaintances, but we're the future world leaders-"

"Actually, it's Yakko." The eldest Warner corrected with a pointed hand.

"Right, and now you know how it feels to have your name mispronounced." Brain curtly acknowledged.

"Eh, fair enough." Yakko shrugged in agreement.

"So, now that we're all here, what should we do next?" Dot asked excitedly.

Wakko looked over at the mice and smiled. "Could you guys take us to McDonald's?" He asked.

"What?" Brain sputtered. "Pinky and I don't have enough money to pay for such frivolities, and our next paycheck won't come in until Friday!"

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that, I've got ya covered!" Yakko assured as he took out a brown sack full of money from his hammerspace. "Scratchy is already busy with his patients and we need someone to take us out for some fast food!"

Dot approached the mouse, batting her glowing black eyes and wearing the most adorable pout. "Oh, pretty please Brain!" She pleaded in a cutesy voice.

Brain crossed his arms and frowned, refusing to cave into Dot's powerful cuteness. "Pinky and I have important work to do soon back at the lab!"

"Like watching the latest episode of Seinfeld?" Pinky asked.

"No, Pinky. Our plans for global conquest!" Brain curtly replied.

"But you can't take over the world on an empty stomach!" Wakko argued.

"Ugh, I'd rather consume my hat than McDonald's," Brain sourly remarked.

Yakko carefully inspected Brain with the intention of breaking down the mouse's barriers until he gave in. He tapped his siblings' shoulders and grinned mischievously and began to chant. "McDonald's! McDonald's!"

Soon Wakko and Dot joined their brother in the chanting. "McDonald's! McDonald's! McDonald's!

Brain's eye twitched at the incessant shouts. The Warners began to circle around the mouse. The moment Pinky joined the toon siblings in their parade, that was the final straw. Brain raised his fists and the air and shouted. "Oh, all right! Pinky and I will take you out for some cheap fast food!"

The Warners bounced around the mice in jubilation. While Pinky eagerly clapped, Brain pouted as he bitterly crossed his arms once more.

"Don't be so glum, Brain!" Wakko said in earnest as he picked the grumpy mouse up. "Maybe some happy meals will cheer you up!" He explained while placing the mouse on top of their head.

"Ready to go, sibs and mouse friends!" Yakko asked excitedly.

"Ready!" Dot chirped as she scooped Pinky up in her hands and placed him on top of her head.

"Ready!" Wakko added with a thumbs up.

"Affirmative." Brain tiredly sighed, gripping his paws on the red hat.

"Narf!" Pinky called out.

"I'll take that as a yes," Yakko mentioned. "Now let's roll!"

Yakko opened up the door, hopped on the railing, and leaped off. Wakko and Dot followed suit as they jumped off the water tower to catch up with their big brother. Pinky cheered while Brain let out an anxious "nyaaaah" as they made their descent. Fortunately, the Warners bounced upon the concrete ground with great nimbleness.

"Boingy! Boingy! Boingy!" The Warners chorused as they bounced around the movie lot. Both mice grabbed onto their respective toon siblings as they moseyed about.

On their trail, they passed by Slappy Squirrel, who walked in the opposite direction whilst carrying her green purse. The veteran toon star smirked as she waved at the three children and the two lab mice. "Have fun, you crazy kids." She called out.

As the Warners continued on their merry way, the loud shriek of the officer's whistle shattered their merriment. They looked over to see Ralph the security guard, running up to them as fast as he could with a comically large net.

"Yikes!" The Warners shouted. Revving up their legs, they made a mad dash out of the studio, carrying the mice along with them.

"Alright children, we better make this trip to McDonald's a quick one. For Pinky and I must return to the lab by seven."

"Why Brain?" Wakko asked. "What are you and Pinky doing at seven?"

"The same thing we do every night, Wakko," the mouse grimly replied. "Try to take over the world!"

"Hey, Brain!" The Warner sister sang while snapping her fingers. "Earth to Brain, you come in?"

The mouse shook his head as he looked over at Dot, who cradled Pinky in her hands. His perception of her and her siblings has drastically changed over the years. His fear of the toon children's playful and unpredictable nature was replaced with endearment. Brain regained his focus and returned to the present. "My apologies dear, I was just reminiscing."

"Totally understandable," Dot replied with a warm smile.

The mouse placed the picture book back on top of the pile and approached the Warner sister.

"So did you find all the things you were looking for?" Brain inquired.

"Actually, I lied to you. I only said that just so I could get a ride on your mechanical human suit." Dot confessed without a twinge of regret. "Are you ready to head over to the park?"

"Yes, always." Brain replied flatly as he exited the water tower. After Dot closed the door, he picked her back up, with Pinky in tow, and they flew off.

Back at the studio entrance, Yakko and Wakko were in a heated game of checkers when they heard the loud jet engines purring up above. Brain descended from the air, landing on the sidewalk on the suit's two feet.

"Thanks for the lift, Brain!" Dot chirped as she hopped off from the suit and passed Pinky back to the big-headed mouse, who securely tucked him in the front pocket.

"So, how about we head over to the park for some wholesome fun and merriment?" Brain asked with a wave of his mechanical arm.

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot cheered as they bounced around the suit. With a resounding yes from the siblings, they started to make their way over to the park.

Dot approached Yakko. "Can you give me a piggy-back ride? I wanna save all of my energy for when we arrive at the park."

"Your wish is my command, princess," Yakko answered as he propped his sister onto his back. Dot giggled contentedly as she adjusted herself on top of her brother's shoulders.

Wakko sadly looked on. He couldn't help but feel left out by the sibling bonding. "Can I get a turn soon?"

Yakko looked over at Wakko with sympathetic eyes. "Of course sib, but you have to wait a little while."

While Wakko was relieved that Yakko had not forgotten about them, their shoulders sagged with impatience.

Brain noted the middle child's forlorn frown. The mouse knew exactly how to cheer Wakko up. "You don't need to wait any longer, sport." Using the man-suit, Brain lifted Wakko up and placed the middle child on his shoulders.

"This is awesome!" Wakko cheered, raising their hands in the air.

Pinky looked up from the pocket. "Aww, can I have a turn soon?"

"Don't worry, Dad," Wakko assured. He tried to reach for Pinky, but Brain recognized what he was doing and grabbed Pinky for them, placing the taller mouse into Wakko's hands. Wakko then placed Pinky on top of their hat.

Yakko looked up at Wakko and the mice and smiled. As he carried Dot, he thought of a wonderful idea.

"Hey Brain, I betcha Dot and I will get to the park first." He declared with a mischievous grin. The teen revved up his feet and began to race down the sidewalk. Dot giggled as she held onto her older brother.

"Last one there is a rotten egg!" Dot shouted gleefully.

Wakko looked at their siblings, who were already many paces ahead, and frowned. "Brain, we have to beat them!"

"Don't worry, Wakko," Brain assured. "For I have an ace up my sleeve."

The mouse pressed the buttons on the control panel, causing the jet engines to fire up. A few seconds later, the mechanical human suit rose a few feet above the sidewalk.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Wakko exclaimed.

"Hold on, you two!" Brain ordered as he took off.

Wakko gripped one hand on the suit's shoulder and the other hand on top of Pinky, securing him onto the red cap. The lanky mouse and the middle Warner cheered as they flew above the sidewalk. The trio managed to catch up with Yakko and Dot within seconds. Gripping the control lever, Brain maneuvered the suit's arm and swiftly caught the other two Warners in his hold. The pudgy mouse steered the controls and lifted up the suit to a higher elevation.

Yakko and Dot laughed as they were reunited with Wakko. Pinky felt his eyes watering at the sight of the siblings enjoying themselves while Brain drove the suit. Once Brain located the park, he made a swift descent towards the destination. Pinky and the Warners cheered as they approached the park. Brain slowly turned off the jet engines as he landed near an empty picnic bench. He was able to land the suit on both feet while carrying his passengers.

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot leaped off of the suit and landed on the ground. "We won! We won! We won!" They chanted as they bounced around the picnic table.

Pinky and Brain smiled at the children. They took in the beautiful scenery of the green trees and bushes among the luscious green grass. The mice were eager to have a grand old time at the park with the Warners.

Yakko and Dot reached into their hammerspaces and took out their kites. Yakko's kite had rainbow colors, while Dot's kite had purple and gold stripes. At that moment, Pinky had an idea. "Hey kids, can I fly with you?" He asked.

"Of course!" Yakko answered. "But I don't know if I have a mouse-sized kite anywhere."

"No, no, no," Pinky gently dismissed. "I mean, I want to fly on the kite!"

Yakko and Dot looked at each other before turning their gaze back at the lanky mouse. "Well, in that case, I don't see why not!" Yakko said as he took out some tape from his hammerspace.

"Fly on my kite, Pinky!" Dot cheered as she laid out her kite.

Pinky happily hopped onto the kite and spread himself out. He always had fun when Brain taped him up tight to a chair or the television screen during past plans for global conquest, but the thought of being taped to a kite exhilarated him. "Now don't hesitate to use extra tape! Zort!"

Meanwhile, Wakko took out a blue frisbee and approached Brain. "Hey Dadoo, wanna play frisbee with me?"

"Certainly," Brain answered with a small smile.

Wakko handed the frisbee over to Brain. The mouse gently held the plastic disc in his grip and looked out to Wakko, who ran about twenty feet away.

"Ready!" The toon child shouted.

Brain gripped the disc as he maneuvered the mechanical arms back. Thrusting the lever, he launched the frisbee. The blue disc glided across the air until Wakko leaped up and caught it in their mouth.

Wakko landed on all fours and sprinted down the grass like an eager dog. He then skidded to a stop when he was close to Brain, but managed to dig their heels into the grass and stop before he could collide with the mouse. Wakko contentedly dropped the frisbee in front of the suit's feet, wagged their tail a mile a minute, and panted eagerly with their tongue lolling out.

Brain snorted at Wakko's silliness. While the mouse wasn't sure what animal the Warners were supposed to be modeled after, but he was certain that the middle child inherited many traits found in the average canine. "Do you even know how to throw?"

"No throw!" Wakko replied with an ounce of ferocity in their tone. "Only give!"

The mouse rolled his eyes. "Alright, I think it's high time someone taught you the art of throwing."

With a wave of the mechanical hand, Brain commanded Wakko to stand up, to which the middle child eagerly obeyed.

"Now, the most important element of frisbee is about using the flick of your wrist to impart gyroscopic stability and to accelerate the mass of the disc to a certain velocity."

Wakko tilted his head in confusion.

Brain dejectedly sighed. He thought that his scientific jargon sounded rather groovy. But if he was to properly bond with Wakko, he needed to meet them halfway. "To put it in terms that you can understand, you must be able to use your arm and wrist to throw the frisbee so that it can glide in the air at a decent speed."

Wakko's eyes glistened. "Oh, now I get it!"

To demonstrate, Wakko whipped his arm and released the frisbee, which wobbled in the air and landed straight into a tree with an unceremonious thud.

Brain looked at the disc, which laid limp by the tree trunk, and back at Wakko. "We have a lot of work to do…"

Yakko and Dot were flying their kites, with Pinky strapped to Dot's purple and gold kite. The lanky mouse laughed heartily as he flew up in the air and admired the city from a bird's eye view.

But the fun came to a halt when Pinky and the kite crashed into the tree branch.

Yakko and Dot looked up at the tree with concern for the lanky mouse. "Are you okay, Pinky?" Dot called out, using her gloved hands to amplify her voice.

Spitting out the leaves from his mouth, Pinky responded to the girl's inquiry. "I'm right as rain, sweetie!" But Pinky spoke too soon as he struggled to liberate his limbs from the adhesive of the cheap tape.

"Uh Brain," Pinky called out from above. The big-headed mouse turned to see his partner stuck at the top of the tree.

Brain retrieved the kite (and his partner) from the tree branch and descended back to the ground. He carefully took the tape off of Pinky's limbs, placing the adhesives in his pocket to be disposed of later. Pinky hopped off of the kite and landed in the palm of Brain's robotic hand. Brain carefully picked Pinky up by the fur on his back and gently placed him in his front coat pocket.

"That oughta hold you." Brain told his partner.

Pinky chuckled. "That's funny. You always say that to me before our role-playing sessions."

Upon hearing the innuendo, Yakko looked over at the mice and stared at the fourth wall. He pressed his right hand to his lips, gave it a smooch, and flung it to the side. "Goodnight, everybody!" He exclaimed.

Brain felt the heat rise up in his cheeks at Yakko's iconic catchphrase. "Pinky, the park is a family establishment! There will be no mention of our licentious activities in front of the children!" he berated, pointing over to the Warners, who only giggled in response.

Yakko let out a contented sigh as he fished out his pen and notepad from his hammerspace. Clicking the top of the pen, he placed a checkmark on the box next to 'Making a witty response to a suggestive remark', marking off another goal on his To-Do List. The teen noted the second most important thing he needed to do next. Revisiting a certain segment that was sadly absent from the reboot.

Yakko then turned over to his younger siblings. "So, who wants to help me find the Wheel of Morality?"

"I do!" Dot exclaimed.

"Maybe later," Wakko replied as he fiddled the frisbee. "I wanna play with Dadoo some more, and I think I'm getting the hang of frisbee!" To test out their theory, Wakko threw the frisbee, which landed square in the middle of Brain's mechanical suit and ricocheted back to Wakko, hitting them square in the face. Despite the injury, Wakko eagerly grinned at their siblings and gave them a thumbs up.

Yakko noticed how happy Wakko was with the mice and shrugged. "Suit yourself, middle sib."

"Now let's go!" Dot exclaimed as she tugged at her older brother's wrist. Yakko smiled at his sister as they raced down the walkway in search of the coveted Wheel of Morality.

Wakko waved at their siblings as they bounced off into the distance before turning back towards the mice. He threw the frisbee once more at Brain, who was caught off guard by when the frisbee smacked him on his forehead.

"Ow!" Brain remarked as he took his own hand to soothe his head.

"Sorry!" Wakko replied with a sheepish smile.

"It's fine," Brain dismissed as he approached the middle child. "You have a lot of energy in your throws, but now it's time I taught you how to aim properly."

With Pinky now secure in his suit pocket, Brain returned his game of frisbee with Wakko. The pudgy mouse piloted the suit as he approached Wakko, and guided his mechanical arm to properly show them how to hold a frisbee.

"Now you want to grip the disc like this," He explained, as he moved Wako's hand to make a backhand grip on the frisbee. Wakko watched carefully with their tongue sticking out as he listened to Brain.

"With the disc secure, you want to position your arm backward." Brain continued as he carefully guided Wakko's arm towards their left side. "And then you flick your arm back towards your right and release the disc."

Wakko moved his arm and flicked the disc, which smoothly glided in the air for about ten feet before making a gentle landing onto the grass. The middle child flashed a proud smile at the frisbee and then back at the mice, who gave encouraging smiles in return.

For the next ten minutes, Brain and Pinky enjoyed themselves as Wakko's throwing greatly improved. They started out with five-foot throws and eventually managed to find a steady rhythm as they made more long-distance throws.

Brain tossed the frisbee twenty feet over to Wakko, who caught it in the grip of their gloved hand with ease.

Wakko grinned as he looked back at the mice. "Go long!" Wakko shouted as he made a particularly long throw.

Brain maneuvered the man-suit fast enough to where the frisbee would fall. Taking a big leap into the air, he caught the frisbee but lost his footing. As the suit tripped over to the grass, Brain fell out from his controller's chair, with Pinky following suit.

The two mice tumbled about thirty feet away from the suit and landed near the base of a tree, causing the bluebirds to scatter. Colorful stars swirled around their heads when a blue feather gracefully fell on top of Brain.

Brain pondered for a moment, recalling his childhood days in the meadow when he spent his free time playing 'keep-it-up' with any feather or leaf he stumbled across. As much a The big-headed mouse took a deep breath and blew the feather off of his head. The feather rose up a good measure above the air before descending again. Suddenly, Brain felt his playfulness reemerging after laying dormant for Lord knows how long and decided to keep the feather up in the air.

Pinky's vision eventually cleared and the first thing he saw was his partner merrily blowing at a blue feather while wearing the most endearing smile.

"What are you doin', Brain?" Pinky inquired.

"Playing a little game," Brain answered, his eyes still focused on the blue feather. "The objective is to keep the feather up in the air for as long as possible."

"Zounds, Brain, that looks like fun!" Pinky cheered. The mouse bounced back on his feet and trotted over towards Brain.

The big-headed mouse stared up at the feather, calculating where it would land. He was determined to keep it up for as long as possible. Before he could make his move, Pinky stood beside him and puffed out enough air to launch the feather up to an additional six inches.

Pinky gave a goofy grin at Brain, who chuckled in response.

They took turns blowing enough air to prevent the feather from falling onto the grass. The two mice quickly became so invested in the game that they lost track of their responsibility watching over the Warners.

When the feather was close to landing on a nearby bush, Pinky and Brain collided with each other and fell backward. The mice groaned as the feather swiftly landed next to them. Rubbing their heads, the mice looked at each other and laughed joyously. Brain got up first and eagerly helped Pinky get back up.

Just as the mice stood up, a giant net stealthily emerged from the bushes and swooped them up. Fear and alarm overtook the couple as they struggled in the chafing ropes of the net. Thrown into a fit of confusion, they were unaware of the men in white lab coats until they spoke up.

"Looks like we found the perfect specimens for the separation experiment," A red-headed scientist said.

"You know, it's a good thing it was delayed to this evening. These little mice would make excellent candidates!." The scientist with square glasses remarked.

Pinky and the Brain exchanged terrified glances. The experiment they thought they had evaded was put on hold. A weekend filled with light-hearted antics and bonding was to end with the close mice being separated for an entire month.

Brain looked outside the picturesque park through his roped prison, recalling the tragic day when he was stolen from his family in the meadows as a young field mouse and was unceremoniously hauled away to Acme Labs. Where his innocence vanished and was resigned to the fate of a mistreated laboratory rodent.

Raw determination grappled his fear. Brain refused to allow history to repeat itself again. He refused to be separated from his family once more.

"Hurry Pinky," Brain called out. "Use every ounce of strength you have to tear a hole through this net so we could still escape while we have the chance!"

But the red-headed scientist swiftly picked them up by their tails and carelessly placed them into an iron cage.

Pinky and Brain ran over to the bars. Out from the horizon, they saw Wakko skipping along, carrying the frisbee in their hands. The mice reached out their arms through the bars, using every ounce of energy in their voices to alert the middle child.

"Wakko!" Pinky cried out as tears poured from his eyes. "Please help us!"

"Please, my child! You must do something!" Brain shouted, his voice laced with desperation. "You're our only hope!"

Wakko's ear stood up the moment he heard their frightened pleas. He scanned over the horizon to see the two mice he dearly loved imprisoned in the iron cage carried by the adults in white lab coats. The scientists walked over to the back of the windowless van and placed Pinky and Brain into the back along with the other recently captured field mice.

Wakko felt their heart breaking. Pinky and Brain gave them and their siblings a wonderful and memorable weekend. He recalled Brain standing up to them and taking a last-minute trip to the library so he could get the drawing back. Even Pinky showed his true colors of being a loving and reliable guardian. The mice helped Wakko out and now it was time to return the favor.

"Hey! You let those mice free!" The middle child shouted, running as fast as he could to reach the scientists. "They're my dads!"

But the scientists ignored his pleas as they entered the front seat van. Wakko picked up their pace the moment he saw the van doors shut. But the Acme Labs van started up its engines. Before Wakko could approach the vehicle, it quickly drove from its parking spot and departed from the park.

Wakko tried to pick up his pace, but the van turned a corner and disappeared out of sight. The toon felt their heart thumping in their ribcage. He was the mice's only hope for salvation, and he failed.

Wakko fell down to their knees in defeat. their face crumpling as tears began to fall. He pulled his ears, berating himself for not saving his dads when he had the chance. Tears began to pool from the middle child's eyes. Blinking away their blurry vision, the tears streamed down their face as a sob broke.

"Hey Wakko, we found the Wheel of Morality!" He heard Yakko cheer from a distance. Wakko's stomach dropped. How was he supposed to tell Yakko and Dot that Pinky and Brain were captured?

Yakko and Dot skipped merrily with the intention of showing Wakko the coveted Wheel of Morality. But the siblings stopped in their tracks when the middle Warner didn't budge from their spot and their frame shaking.

Yakko carefully approached Wakko in an earnest effort to alleviate their woes. "Hey Wakko, what's wrong?" He comforted his sibling.

"The Acme Labs scientists took Pinky and Brain away!" Wakko tearfully explained. Yakko and Dot gasped in shock.

Wakko sniffled. "I-I tried to keep up, but the van was too quick…"

Yakko and Dot sympathetically looked on, not wanting the middle child to feel too hard on themselves.

"Dad and Dadoo are in trouble and we need to do something!" Wakko cried. Yakko instinctively knelt down and rubbed his siblings back in a soothing manner.

Dot's face scrunched up as she pondered. "Acme Labs…" She muttered to herself as she retrieved her smartphone from her pocket. She opened up the internet and searched in the lab. She managed to find the establishment's address.

"The lab is only a few miles from here!" Dot informed her older siblings. "If we can hail a cab, then we'd be able to break them out before sunset!"

Yakko grinned at his sister, feeling proud of her initiative. "Sibs, if we want to save our family, then we gotta act quickly!" Yakko announced as he bounced up on his feet.

Wakko beamed at their brother, elated that eldest Warner finally recognized the mice as family. "You mean it, Yakko?"

Yakko placed a gentle hand on his sibling's shoulder. "Of course. They looked out for us, so it's only fair that we look out for them!"

The eldest Warner offered a helping hand, and Wakko immediately clapped it and rose on their feet. With the aid of their siblings, the middle child was determined to save their two dads.

Dot approached the sidewalk and turned over to the oncoming white taxi van. She stuck her hand out in the air and gave a loud whistle. "Taxi!" She hollered.

Right on command, the white taxi pulled up to the sidewalk. The doors to the minivan opened and the Warners clamored into the backseat.

"Where to?" The driver asked.

"Acme Labs," Dot gravely commanded. "And put the pedal to the metal!"

-                     -                        -                             -                            -

The mice were surrounded in darkness. Pinky and Brian were locked in a protective embrace throughout the duration of the car ride over to Acme Labs.

Brain listened to the frightened cries of the other field mice. He couldn't help but remember the day he was locked away in the Acme Labs vehicle to be separated from his family and home. He never thought that he would relive that painful day.

Pinky held Brain close as his mind raced with all sorts of worrying things. The weekend wasn't supposed to end like this! He and Brain should be back at the park and watching the Wheel of Morality. Brain should be bringing up the proposal to officially adopt the sweet Warner children and start a big happy family together. They should have successfully avoided the separation experiment.

Pinky felt his stomach drop. He didn't like the idea of being separated from his dearest Brain. He remembered the different times he and Brain were apart. Snowball was almost successful when he offered him the amusement park. Then there was the time Brain had a mid-life crisis and insisted that he was better off with his career as a ski instructor. Or the time his hit musical caused Brain to run off. But worst of all was when Mr. Itch planned on separating him and Brain for the rest of eternity.

He detested the thought of not being by Brain's side for an entire month.

"Brain…" Pinky wobbled. "Poit! I haven't been this scared since Mr. Itch tried to separate us for good!"

Brain tightened his grip around Pinky at that painful memory. "The feeling is understandable, dear Pinky," He sullenly replied as he cast his eyes downward.

"And we were just going to start our new lives as parents," Pinky sadly added. As the words escaped his lips, he felt a small ray of hope. "Troz! Maybe the Warners will bust us out of here before the experiment starts!"

Brain's ears twitched at Pinky's relentless optimism, even in the face of hopelessness. The mouse loved to think that he and his partner further strengthened their relationship with the three toons, perhaps to the point of something familial.

The pudgy mouse looked back at Pinky with a small smile. "Perhaps you're right."

But the van screeched to a grinding halt.

Pinky looked through the bars, his long tail wagging excitedly. "Maybe they'll bust through the doors right now and take us back to the studio!"

The backdoors flew open to reveal the same scientists who stole their freedom.

Pinky retreated from the iron bars and launched himself onto Brain with open arms. The smaller mouse instinctively wrapped his arms around his partner's lanky figure, holding on as tight as he could. Their hopes of escape were snuffed out.

"Well, the thought was nice while it lasted." Brain commented in a dejected tone.

One of the scientists picked up their cage and swiftly placed it on a metal cart. Pinky and Brain held each other in a protective hug as they watched the scientists place the other cages onto the cart. Brain couldn't help but notice the terrified squeaks of the various field mice who were robbed of their freedom and to be incarcerated in Acme Labs. The mouse shut his eyes. The memories of his arrival at Acme Labs to the horrific experiments he underwent returned to him.

The first night spent in the cold steel cage. The learned helplessness experiment. Being strapped to a chair and watching painfully bad political advertisements. Receiving painful shocks from the stunning plate in an earnest attempt to obtain some cheese. He and Snowball riding a red toy car that launched straight into a brick wall, rendering them horrifically injured. Undergoing the gene splicer while wrapped in bandages. Losing his first friend after a terrible falling out. Being force-fed cigarettes against his will. Having to pilot a faulty toy plane that ended up becoming a major fire hazard.

Brain's breathing hitched. Thankfully, he felt Pinky's paw lovingly stroke his back in a soothing motion. The pudgy mouse rested his head in his partner's chest. He had to savor the physical comfort while he still could.

Pinky, too, thought about his arrival at the lab. When the scientist first purchased him from the pet store, he thought nothing of it and assumed that he was going on vacation. But as the nights passed, the reality of the situation dawned on him that he might never see his family again. Pinky was thankful that Brain helped him reunite with his folks years later, but for the longest time, he thought that would not be the case. He whimpered at the thought that he might be separated from Brain and the Warner siblings for good.

Once the cages were transferred from the vehicle and onto the cart, the scientist wheeled them away into the research facility.

Pinky started to sob when the fluorescent lights of the lab hit. Brain looked over at Pinky with worried eyes. Although emotions were not his strong suit, he was determined to provide his roommate with some level of comfort.

"Have courage, Pinky," Brain consoled his partner, gingerly caressing his paw. "It'll only be for a month, and we'll soon be reunited."

Pinky gave Brain's paw a tight squeeze in return. "I-I'll try, Brain." He stammered as tears poured from his eyes.

The cart stopped in the middle of the hallway and one of the scientists opened up their cage.

Brain squeezed his eyes tight as he clung to Pinky. While he was aware that being placed in a separate cage that included all of the basic necessities for an entire month was bearable in comparison, being separated from Pinky proved to be its own type of torture in and of itself.

"I love you, Brain." Pinky warbled.

Brain's stomach dropped when he heard those words. Gathering up enough courage, Brain made his feelings known before he was to be separated from the most important thing in this world.

"I love you too, Pinky." Brain solemnly whispered.

The small door to the iron cage opened and a gloved hand dipped down to retrieve one of his victims. The hand tried to pull the mice apart but was having difficulty. Brain instinctively sank his teeth into the gloved hand to retaliate.

The scientist yelped as swiftly yanked his hand out of the cage. "Looks like we've got a biter." He told his associate.

The other scientist snaked his hand through the opening and swiftly grabbed Brain. Pinky's eyes widened when he saw Brain in the clutches of one of his captors. When the other scientist reached his hand into the cage, Pinky was determined to fight back. But the scientist proved to have quick reflexes as he secured his grasp around the lanky mouse and plucked him from the cage.

Brain struggled to release his arms from the scientist's grasp but found it difficult to squirm his way out. He looked over to see Pinky squirming in the other scientist's hold whilst looking at him with pleading eyes.

"Brain!" Pinky cried out.

Brain stared at his partner as they were forcibly separated by the callous scientists.

"Pinky…" He exhaled, tears dampening his ivory cheeks. Brain watched helplessly as he was carried away into a testing room.

A scientist with blonde braided hair shut the door right away. Brain inspected the room and the many white coats. Two of the head scientists he recognized. The older gentleman with silver-grey hair and a middle-aged woman with brown hair that was held together in a ponytail. There were six other scientists, all of them in their early twenties and straight out of college.

The red-headed scientist placed Brain on when the middle-aged scientist with red hair cleaned the tip of his right ear with a disinfectant wipe. Just as he twitched at the moist sensation, he felt a hard sting when the scientist pierced his ear with a silver metal tag.

The mouse was overcome with shame. While the piercing was far less painful than the time he was branded with the black A tattoo on his leg during his youth, it wounded his pride just as much. The silver ear tag was another cruel reminder that he was not a mouse with autonomy and ambition, but a mere piece of property to a corporate laboratory.

"Subject A-93," The woman muttered as she scribbled his notes onto the clipboard. Brain grimaced at his slave name.

The older scientist grabbed Brain from the table. He walked over towards a glass cage that was placed in the middle of the room, opened up the top cover, and lowered the mouse inside.

Brain inspected the prison he was to reside in for the next month. The ground was covered in straw, there was an exercise wheel, a bowl of food pellets, and a full water bottle. Not much different from his old cage. The only thing that was missing was Pinky.

The mouse stared at his reflection in each of the four sides of his glass cage. "Drat!" He muttered to himself. If he were placed in a cage similar to his green one, then he would easily have picked the lock with his tail and made a daring mission to rescue Pinky.

Brain ran to the side of the cage and angrily pounded on the glass wall, desperate to make an escape.

He saw two of the scientists talking to each other as they scribbled down in their notes. Brain peered at the older man's lips as he spoke.

"Over the course of the month, we will be studying the emotional intelligence and cognitive thinking of the common laboratory mouse and how it will cope with a month of being separated from its closest partner."

"No need to remind me," Brain bitterly remarked, knowing full well his sarcasm would go unnoticed by the scientists.

The mouse paced around the straw floor, pondering the different means of escape. There was the matter of telekinesis. Brain hoped that Pinky would use his special abilities to break free and rescue him. But the more he thought about it, the more doubtful he became. While Pinky had no issue with controlling his telekinetic powers, the only problem is that his partner's powers tend to come and go.

He then thought of the Warners. Perhaps Pinky was right, and that the Warners could liberate them from the lab. Brain was certain that he and Pinky made a great impression on them so that they would be willing to rescue them from the lab, right?

But Brain shook his head. He didn't want to get his hopes up only to be let down if they didn't show up.

The mouse looked over at the scientists, one of which was by the refrigerator. Perhaps if one of the scientists opened up the cage and lowered their arm, Brian could climb up and make a run for it. He would somehow rescue Pinky and they would make their escape from the lab.

The lid of the cage opened and placed a small plate of cheese in the center.

Brain set his sights on the slice of swiss cheese just as the scientist quickly shut the lid on top of the cage.

The mouse felt his heart slam against his chest as he stared at the large piece of swiss cheese.

Brain knew that there was no stunning plate underneath the cheese. There were no clamps or electrical wires that connected the plate to the shock device. But the familiar image was a painful reminder of the trauma he endured as a child.

He glanced over at the scientists, who were not the same ones who performed the experiment during his youth, as managed to read the head scientist's lips. "The objective of this first test is to see how the subject will react to new stimuli without the aid of his partner. During the first week of testing, we'll examine how the mouse would react to different types of food before moving on to common household items."

Brain looked back at the cheese and took a few steps back. He clutched his jagged tail, noting each zig-zag mark was the result of being electrocuted by the stunning plate. He shook his head in disbelief. This had to be some cruel trick. To be separated from his beloved Pinky only be stuck with a painful reminder of his childhood trauma.

Closing his eyes, the mouse turned away and ran towards the wall, slamming into it. Brain curled his paws into fists and began to pound at the wall in a desperate attempt to escape. With each punch, he was reminded of how utterly helpless he had become. No longer was he an ambitious intellectual with dreams of world conquest. As the punches slowed down, he stared into his reflection, reminded that he was a sad and pitiful rodent only to be used as fodder in the name of science and human curiosity.

Tears flooded his eyes and blurred his vision. Brain shook his head once more. He hated feeling vulnerable. The mouse blinked away the hot tears as he continued to pound at the glass wall. The scientists stared at the mouse with indifference as they scribbled into their notepads.

Brain fell to his knees, feeling a great sense of despair from the unfeeling researchers. Bowing his head down in defeat, the mouse continued to sob, feeling totally helpless.

AN: This is the beginning of the end of this story.

I apologize for the long hiatus. I had a lot going on with my personal life, as well as experiencing writer’s block. Fortunately, I managed to overcome that hurdle as of late, and I’m already polishing up the last two chapters, so I'm hoping to finish them as soon as possible.

This chapter was a little challenging (especially the tone change in the last third), but everything is gearing up towards the climax. I had a lot of fun putting in several references to past episodes from the original Animaniacs, the Pinky and The Brain spin-off, and the Animaniacs reboot. I also decided to place a flashback to when the mice first met the Warners because I wanted to establish how these two groups initially crossed paths and how their relationship was founded (as well as having a callback to the McDonald’s joke from Chapter Three).

To the folks who are still reading this story, thank you for your patience and I’ll do my best to wrap up the last chapters on a shorter schedule.

Thanks for reading!

[paradox-psyc-hoe-sis]

X-men preference - how they flirt with you!

Charles x reader, Erik x reader, Hank x reader, Logan x reader, Kurt x reader

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: yo yo yo, this is my first x-men related fic but I've been so engrossed with the fandom recently that I'll definitely be writing more :D (also the reader is a teacher at the mansion) - Honey

CHARLES

• Charles was very discreet with the way he flirted with you, wanting to get to know you more.

• He'd spend more time with you between classes, asking you about your abilities, talking to you about your life before you came to the academy, etc.

• Before you two were really close, he treated you in a strictly friendly manner. As you both grew closer, his feelings manifested into physical actions.

• Small hugs, kissing you on the cheek, instinctively clutching your hand at the sense of danger, and even you letting him into your mind.

• Obviously, it was pretty clear there was a thing between you.

• After a few months, you realised you liked him, too.

• You were both in the courtyard one evening, Charles talking about recruiting some new students.

• The way the purple sky reflected on his glassy eyes, his stubble-littered jaw, soft lips curved at the edges as he spoke.

• As he was halfway through a sentence, you impulsively leaned in and placed your your lips onto his.

• It took him a second to realise what was happening, but once he caught on he firmly kissed back, closing any remaining space between you.

• After a while, you both leaned back, a smile lingering between you both.

• "I really like you, Charles."

• A small chuckle escaped his lips as he cupped your cheek.

• "I didn't have to read your mind to figure that one out, y/n."

ERIK

• Erik was NOT subtle with the way he flirted.

• Eying you up and down with a smirk, staring at your behind when you weren't looking, wrapping an arm around your waist whenever you were near.

• He was just naturally affectionate, which you certainly didn't mind.

• He'd randomly bring you flowers in the middle of the day, because "they were on sale and just reminded me of you."

• And when others were off on a mission, he'd insist on cooking you dinner.

• The way you really knew that he liked you was that he'd sometimes open up to you about his emotions.

• The only person he's talked to in the past about his feelings was Charles, but it always ended in arguments.

• But often he'd wake up in the middle of the night and go downstairs to see you, also downstairs & wide awake, drinking hot cocoa.

• It became a weekly tradition for the both of you to have a cup of cocoa on a Sunday night, usually around midnight.

• When you were both downstairs, he'd talk to you about his childhood and his mental health. You were always there for him, listening to every word.

• So one sunday night you were creeping down the stairs, waiting to find Erik in the kitchen with 2 mugs of hot chocolate.

• However, instead of preparing your hot drinks, he was stood next to the record player. "Care for a dance?"

• Slow music played as you swayed across the floor.

• That night, he told you that he loved you. And, of course, you said it back :)

HANK

• As soon as you and Hank met, everyone knew he had a crush on you.

• Whenever you talk to him, touch him in any way, or even flash him a smile he'll automatically blush and get all flustered.

• "Hey Hank, I really like your sweater!"

• "Uh..m-my sweater? I uh...I don't...um, thank you."

• Once he became more comfortable around you, he started to flirt a lot more.

• Teasing little jokes and compliments were thrown back and forth a lot between you both, as well as longing glances when the other isn't looking.

• He loved to have you in the lab with him, and you were completely happy supporting him & listening to him drone on about his discoveries.

• He had been working on a serum for months, when one day he finally cracked it.

• He was working at his desk in the lab, you directly opposite reading a book, when he suddenly erupted.

• "YES!!! I'VE DONE IT!"

• You saw the small vile he was holding and automatically knew what he was talking about.

• You ran over to him and instinctively gave him a hug, him gripping you just as tight.

• However, you also absentmindedly went in for a kiss.

• It was small and light, and you pulled back straight away.

• "I...I'm sorry, I shouldn't ha-"

• He cut you off by pressing a firmer kiss to your lips, his hands gripping your waist with delight.

LOGAN

• We all know that Logan can be a stupid bitch when it comes to emotions.

• So when he realised he had feelings for you, he immediately distanced himself.

• He rarely showed up to meals, seldom participated in group activities, and avoided you at all costs.

• The only time you saw him was between classes, making your way to your next group of students and seeing him lurking in the corridors.

• His sudden withdrawal came so randomly to you & the other x-men, though.

• He'd often help you grade papers, drive you to the local convenience store for grocery shopping, and even help you cook meals for the staff.

• But all that stopped once he figured out his feelings for you.

• And frankly, you were sICK of it.

• One night, you got back late from visiting a family member. It must have been 11pm by the time you arrived back at the mansion, and the only thought that played on your mind during the drive home was Logan.

• Once you got in and put your bag down, you went straight to Logan's room. Trying to keep your cool, you knocked three times on his door.

• No reply.

• "I know you're in there, Logan. Let me in!"

• No reply.

• So, you let yourself in. And there he was, sat on his bed, flipping through a book, not at all surprised that you'd let yourself in.

• Once he saw you stood in the doorway, brows furrowed, he stood up and walked towards you.

• "Everything okay?" He grumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

• "No, Logan. Everything isn't okay. Why are you ignoring me?"

• You closed the door behind you, walking closer to him.

• Without a second of hesitation, he strode towards you, pushing you up against the wall.

• He waited a second before cupping your cheek and kissing you, teeth grazing your lips.

• Let's just say...you didn't get much sleep that night ;)

KURT

• Kurt was similar to Hank when it came to expressing emotions, yet he was certainly more romantic.

• Yes, he could get easily flustered around you, but he always found a way to turn it into a romantic situation.

• He'd write you small poems on sticky notes and leave them in your room, buy your favourite chocolate and put it under your pillow, and even pick you flowers from the gardens to surprise you on a bad day.

• It was obvious to everyone - including you - that he had a crush on you. And sure, you liked him too, but you wanted him to confess his feelings.

• When I tell you this boy was whipped; he was WHIPPED.

• Spill some water? He'll he there to clean it up. Break a glass? He's already scooped up the pieces and put them in the bin. Trouble grading papers? He's right behind you with the marking scheme to keep you on track.

• Although you'd tell him so many times that you can do it by yourself, he was eager to treat you like the princess that you were.

• It was the evening of your birthday when he confessed his feelings.

• The x-men had thrown you a party, and when the festivities were over, he stayed to help you clean up.

• "Y'know, I never managed to give you your birthday present."

• He told you to close your eyes and stick out your hand. Once you did, you felt him take your hand, and suddenly you felt a cool breeze against your arms.

• You opened your eyes in awe at your surroundings; you and Kurt were on top of the Eiffel tower, gazing down at the French city behind you.

• "Holy shit, Kurt - this is s-"

• He cut you off, placing his lips on yours. He didn't add too much pressure, waiting for you to respond, but loosened up when you lifted a hand up to cup his cheek.

• Your lil blueberry just wants everything for his queen <3