#ah shit i can do that anyway with tome

[lazyscience]

DCC Challenge, Day 13

Time To Floor Collapse: 17 days, 2.5 hours (give or take)

Time for the recap episode!

Crawler @quartzandsundry

New Achievement! Sugah Sugah!

Ah, the lure of blood. Is it the sweet, sweet illusion of helplessness that makes the mobs go crazy for you, crawler, or is it the desire to claim the honors of taking down such an efficient killer? Either way, you sure look like the world's biggest cupcake to those mobs, and you're making it work for you.

(is a giant cupcake still a cupcake, or is it a cake?)

Reward: A silver Riverdale box! Inside, The Serpent Crown, which grants its wearer one Teleport per day, and three opportunities to look "through" a closed door or portal and see what is on the other side. Also contains a sack of burgers in a greasy paper bag branded "Pop's Malt Shop."

Crawler @kathrynalexao3:

New Achievement! These Boots Were Made For Walkin'!

That has to be some kind of - you know what? Fuck recordkeeping, I declare that you did, indeed, set Some Kind of Record for how many steps in a crawler's day. You were busy! Some of it on difficult terrain, and a not-inconsiderable portion it on, across or against mobs!

I love that for you--no, for US. I love that for us. But could you maybe, just maybe, try it barefoot next time? Just for kicks, ha ha, I made a funny!

Reward: A gold I'm Your Huckleberry Box! Inside, a box of Targeting Hollowpoint Ammo for a pistol or revolver-style weapon, with a guided function guaranteed to keep it from missing targets even in cover or in motion! (This is why it's only for small magazine weapons, where's the fun and excitement otherwise?) Also included a marked deck of Earth playing cards, two 100,000 chips for the Desperado Club casino, and a hit of Glory Bound.

Crawler @king-ofconfusion:

New Achievement! Heavens No, Hell Yeah!

Welcome, Crawler, to the Desperado Club. Where telling god fetishists to fuck off is not only tolerated, shit, it's pretty much mandatory! Where the only person's wishes that matter are yours, and the only things that are forbidden are the ones you can't afford.

Funny how many more people actually meet friends here than Club Vanquisher. And you know, actually have fun and do silly shit instead of eternally self-flagellating in the hopes that their vindictive deities will smash someone else beneath their mighty feet.

pfff, I kid, that'd be fun, and fun is Not Allowed there.

Reward: A gold Church and Destroy box! Included, a ring of Opposite Day with five charges (spells cast on the wearer rebound on the caster), a tome of Black Nimbus (removes worshippers from any connection to their deity and associated buffs/resistances, can trigger a Smite from their deity) , and a bonus tome of Skedaddle! so you can bail before the pitchforks and torches.

Crawler @oreniaa:

New Achievement! Frock You Like A Hurricane!

You want me to leave the zuchetta on? Well, meeee-row! Red is a GREAT color, being as it symbolizes willingness to shed blood...for the faith! yeah, that's it, for the faith. Not at all for the Aesthetic (cough) Anyway! for your groundbreaking work in blasphemy, have a reward!

Reward: A silver Apostate box! Inside, an enchanted Stick-N-Poke Prison Tattoo Kit, three scrolls of Eye in the Sky, and an enchanted Nipple Ring of the Defiler! +5 to Charisma, +10% chance to activate aggro in any clerical class who sees it and hates bodily autonomy.

Crawler @cairfrey :

New Achievement! Where Do You Go?

And like a bad 90s club anthem, your mobs are left deprived, disappointed...empty. Until you hear their careless whispers and STAB STAB STAB - oops. I am mixing genres, decades, realit--nope! Nope! Not losing it at all over here, nope! Except maybe to these sick beats! See you on the dancefloor at the Desperado, fellow kids!

Reward: A silver No Mercy box! Inside, an enchanted Belly Chain of +20% to Charisma! Upgradable with charms; currently equipped with a ruby charm of All Eyes On Me.

Crawler @deathdovesong

New Achievement! "What Up? I Got a Big--"

It do be a known fact that you have eyes for a large EDGED WEAPON, what did you perverts think I meant? I mean, that is why you watch the Adherents to An Ancient Forgotten Religion practice so often with their shirts off, so you can get a REALLY good look at what the exact muscle motion is, right?

Dedication, thy name is deathdovesong.

Reward: a silver Big Swingin' Sword box! Included a Helm of Resistance, adding +10% to your resistance against fire, ice and poison-based attacks! And to go with it, a Vorpal Sword of Stabbing! +10 to your strength, and unlike those other things, DOESN'T light up so mobs can see you from a mile away! (I mean, unless you're into that. Let me know, that could be cool, or you know, hilariously awful, kind of the same thing? For me, anyway.

Crawler @clearbrightlight

New Achievement! WEEEEEEIRD SCIENCE!

Crawler. Crawler, do you know how close you came to atomizing a quarter of the FLOOR with that shit you just came up with? Even WITH your Sapper's Table? Not gonna lie, that even made ME a little tingly. Good tingly? Bad tingly? It's all sensations! They're all equally horrigood? Terrigreat? I DON' T KNOW.

but ooh. SHINY. It's like the love child of a Hoblobber Rave Started and a suitcase nuke!

Reward: Is being alive and still in possession of all your limbs and fingers not enough for you? I kid, I kid! Here, have a Legendary Push It Real Good box! 10 Proximity triggers, 10 Impact triggers, and a box of alchemy supplies to see if you can successfully aliquot that thing into reasonable-sized servings of bizarrely pretty and sparkly destruction. I'm counting on you! And if not, it'll still make for an AMAZING recap episode!

Crawler @lazyscience:

New Achievement: It's Tricky!

Crawler, not gonna lie here, you could be doing better on the doomscrolling front. But congratulations on landing a good solid kick in the face to the PAT boss which is now hopefully well and truly down, a good hard knee to the groin of Mr. Jones boss, and just when you thought you had a minute before U Can't Touch This turns up - BAM IT'S WELLS FARGO WITH A FOLDING CHAIR!

But you put your Big Crawler pants on, sent some emails, made some calls, it's not great but it's survivable!

Reward: Amnesty on the Would You Do Something About The Kitchen quest for another day. And Thai basil red curry rice from doordash.

ATTENTION, all partied crawlers! Don't forget to update me on mobs, quests, or parties (defined at link) so I can award you achievements! Please let me know either in the replies to this post, reblogging with additions, or hit my askbox/DMs!

(please, do this, even with small and silly mobs/quests, it makes giving achievements so much easier!)

[astarionfreak]

Days of hedonistic debauchery

// Gale x Tessa (Fem!Tav) x Astarion

For Tessa, Astarion coming to stay with her and Gale in Waterdeep has been a dream come true. Even Gale is learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. But nothing can ever really be that simple, can it?

18+ • NSFW • 4.8K words (2/9) | Read on AO3 (teaser available below)

Tags: POV Third Person, Past Tense, Post-Game, Vampire Spawn Astarion, Professor Gale, Canon-Typical Violence, Polyamory, Miscommunication, Emotional Baggage, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Threesome, Smut

---

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Tessa darted into Gale’s office, shut the door, and leaned against it. “Shit. I think she saw me.”

“You always have quite the way of making an entrance, my love.” Gale peered up at her from behind his desk. “Who saw you?”

“I can’t remember her name. She works down the hall. Talks a lot. More than me.” Tessa pressed her ear to the door, listening for footsteps.

“Ah, Seraphina. I thought you enjoyed her company? You had a lovely time at the last gathering.” Gale turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk.

“Okay, yeah, sure. But her wife just had a baby.” Tessa huffed and rolled her eyes.

“And?”

“And? The last thing I wanna hear about is how cute their baby is. Her baby isn’t cute. No babies are cute and I will not pretend they are.”

Gale leaned back in his chair. “You don’t find them cute at all? Not even a little bit?”

“Of course not. Do you?”

Three hard knocks rattled the door. “Shit, shit, shit,” Tessa muttered as she ran across the room. She shoved Gale’s chair back and ducked under his desk.

“What precisely do you think you’re doing now?” Gale asked.

“I’m hiding. Tell her I’m not here,” Tessa whispered.

“Get up, Tessa. I simply will not lie for you.”

“If you love me, you’ll lie to protect me from boredom.” Tessa stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“That sounds dangerously close to an ultimatum. Do you recall our agreement?”

“Fine. Yes. You love me, even if you make me suffer. Please, Gale. Pretty please.” She smiled sweetly up at him. “I’ll make it worth it for you.”

“And how will you be doing that?”

Tessa stuck out her lower lip ever so slightly, pouting as she blinked up at him. “You have an hour before your next class. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?” Gale asked.

Tessa rested her cheek on Gale’s thigh and silently mouthed the word anything.

“Very well,” Gale said. Three more knocks rang out from behind the door. “Come in!”

“Good afternoon, Gale! Is Tessa here? I thought I saw her in the hall?” Seraphina asked.

“Unfortunately, you just missed her. She was in a bit of a hurry this afternoon.”

“Oh. I see. Well, do you have a moment?”

Tessa placed a hand on Gale’s inner thigh, inching closer and closer to his —

Gale stiffened and grabbed her wrist to stop Tessa from getting any closer.

“I’m — uh — quite busy myself. I do have a rather daunting mound of paperwork to complete before my next class. But, what’s on your mind?”

“I’ll keep it brief,” Seraphina said. “I was hoping to tell Tessa all about our little Jamie. He is such a curious thing already.”

Tessa wriggled her wrist to distract Gale as she moved her free hand up his other thigh.

Gale cleared his throat awkwardly and snatched up that hand as well. 

“I’m sure she would love to hear all about the little scamp. Perhaps we can schedule a lunch together next tenday.”

“That would be delightful,” Seraphina said. “While I’m here I should mention I managed to find an old tome with details on that ring you inquired about. I left the thing at home, new baby brain and all, but I will bring it tomorrow.”

Tessa froze. Ring? What ring? They were on the same page, right? No marriage. No babies. Just. This. For now, anyway. Surely he wasn’t . . .

Read on AO3.

[spacemanxpaninis]

Pippin

Being in a group project

Swearing/Cursing

Gale

Playing card games

Waiting for a long time

Marc Spector(WOOF any of them)

Acting/pretending to act a certain way

Being in a party.

Karlach

Being in a group project

Waiting for a long time

How the FUCK did I never answer this I am so sorry 😭 bro this was so fun though thank you for asking omg

Pippin

1- He genuinely wants to carry his weight even if it doesn't seem like it. Being neurodivergent his focus only tethers to very specific things, but Let! Him! Work! On! Those! Things! He is so dedicated and will get so attached to his group he'll want to seem them all succeed just cuz he likes em. Unless they're dicks then he ain't doin SHIT or he's doing his part so good while they helplessly flounder at the rest.

2- Most of the fandom would probably see him as the guy who curses whenever no big deal, cuz he's the silly goofy guy they wanna get high and chill with. But in reality he still has this wholesome youthful innocence around him that thinks it's wrong or just, you know, wrong for him because mama said no! He's not a rough guy! But he always laughs when other people do it and would probably only actually curse when he was quoting something or really upset.

Gale

1- Twirls cards around in his hands, occasionally dropping them, especially if the nature of the game does not depend on total secrecy of one’s hand. If the game involves guessing identities or any sort of counter-effect cards, prepare for a triumphant, dramatic ‘ha ha!’ from the wizard. Drily smiles as he calls out cheaters who think no one is clever enough to catch them, but oh, how he could sense it. Rolls dice in the air with magic just to make a fun sparkly little display of things.

2- Someone save Gale, he forgot his books! Why didn’t he slip a tome in his bag? Ah, well, good things come to those who wait, right? Heh, yes indeed! He can practice things and reflect while he stands and how has only four minutes passed?

Marc

1- Marc has built a life, a living, on carefully constructed facades. It’s why he’s so concerned when Steven begins to cut through- not only does he want to keep his alter safe, but his own whole life’s work. Never let them see when they’ve hurt you. They’ll just know what works best. Words like that echo through his mind as he wears a face of stone, swiftly blinking away tears before they can cut to the corners of his eyes. Weaknesses are weapons.

2- Get him out of that crowd. If he didn’t have to be there he could just be having a drink on his own right now, but there he was, brushed by bodies on one too many sides. At least this time they’re dancing. Alive and well and happy. That thought brings a wry smile to his face, that and the way a passerby claps him on the back like an old friend. How long has it been since someone has greeted him that way?

Karlach

1- Can she build a diorama or a model? Please? Hands-on is this girl’s specialty over writing and stiff presentations and besides, anyone can do that stuff anyway! Well, in actuality she is quite happy to present because talking to people is fun and that’s basically just what presenting is anyway, right? What’s the big deal? Sure, she’ll be the one that talks, too, sign her up! Fuck all those people who won’t do their share. This is her team now and she doesn’t let her team sink.

2- IDLE. DANCING. IDLE FUCKING DANCING. Boredom kicks in, but Karlach kicks harder. Say, that’s a good idea. How high can she kick? Oh wait, public location. Back to grooving. What? She’s got moves.

[wyvernwriterarchive]

🔮Snoozing and Spellcraft 💤

Summary: Asha has been studying hard, preparing to work on some new spell ideas she had. Unfortunately, her bodyguard and brutish nemesis Dinadan...exists.

CW: A few cuss words, but nothing too major

Word Count: 800+

Asha is sleeping peacefully. Unfortunately she's in the dining hall, which is the wrong place to sleep.

On the table near here is a small stack of books on spells and spellcraft, as well as notes.

Dinadan sees her and decides to be nosy.

He wipes his hands on his shirt, and checks the notes. As he expected, they are just magic stuff. Something he isn't really interested in. Although, it was weird that she was studying here of all places.

And what were these notes? He didn't know crap about magic, but there wasn't anything called a “Garth” spell. She even crossed it out. What a dumbass.

The noblewoman slowly stirs and starts to wake up. The first thing she sees is this oaf manhandling her precious research! How dare he!!

"Agh!! W-What do you think you're doing!?"

Crap. Not good. The red-haired devil isn't exactly a morning person. Or an evening person. Actually she's better when she never wakes up at all.

She swiftly stands up and snatches the paper out of his hands.

"Yeesh, calm down, girl!" He shouts, not even trying to put up a fight. He didn’t care about her stupid paper anyway. "I was just looking at your notes. They're pretty bad.”

"Bad? What are you talking about? These are nigh perfect!”

She bragged...about this? Being perfect? Gods above. Nobles always boast about the stupidest shit.

"What kind of spells is...Garth? Psyche? I've never heard of those kinds of magic.”

"Well for *your* information, THIS is a list of spells that I personally have been working on!"

Of course this fool didn't know anything. Brutes like him don't often do well in academic settings, so of course he wouldn't know a magical formula when he saw one.

Or, at the very least, they don't understand the arcane arts as much as most people would.

"Those old names were for uh...failed concepts. Conjuring earth and water shouldn't be impossible for me, but to be honest, it is annoying to work out the formulas on your own. Primal magic is hard to-”

"You can make your own spells?” He asked, cutting her off before she went down some annoying spiel about literal magic words. This seemed to annoy the scholar.

"Of course! So long as you have the knowledge, and talent. I assume you have neither?"

...

OK, that was rude. Perhaps she should take that back and apologize-

"Oh piss off. They'll probably be shit anyway.”

...Well neverMIND then!

"UGH! Still your vulgar tongue.” the scholar growled. “I must focus! The arcane arts won't be revolutionized by themselve- HEY!!”

Dinadan picked up one of the notes. And started reading,keeping this red-haired gremlin away with an outstretched hand. A classic bully maneuver.

``Concept; An arcane spell that mimics the effects of the rare Dyne weaponry. Dubbed Psyche for the time being.``

The rest was formulae and numbers. He didn't really get it. Magic didn't need to be this complex all the time, did it?

"...Dyne weaponry? Ain't those the shiny gold weapons that help you strike more?" He questioned.

"Ah, so the brute does know something after all!" She replied with snark in her voice, desperately reaching for her notes.

This was getting tiring, so he just gave them back with a sigh.

"Why are you working on them here anyway? Why not the library or something?”

"I was going to, but unfortunately, lunch came first. So,I,ever the scholar I am, decided to do some research during my lunch break. Carefully. I would never risk dirtying these tomes without good reason.”

"Ah. Fair enough, I guess.”

"Can you go now? I must...must focus..."

She yawned. The adrenaline of fending off this vile man all day did not beat the wave of tiredness she felt after studying this for the entire day.It was a pathetic sight to be honest. She'd work herself to the bone.

"Like hell you are,” Dinadan scoffed. “You're about to pass out.”

"Nonsense...don't be silly. I am simply...yawn~“”

...OK fine she was going to pass out.

"Ugh...no...I can't. I can't stop... I will not-”

The brute sighed.

"Hey, I saw this other soldier - Tiffany or something was her name - she was doing some magic while she was super tired. Next thing you know, there was a fresh new hole in the training grounds' wall. Magic plus being really feckin' sleepy equals someone's head comin' clean off.”

She groaned in annoyance. That was true...it isn't wise to exert yourself too much when it comes to magic.

"I...hate that you're right."

"Soooo... go to bed. I don't say this often about you nobles, but you seem to actually be talented. At least when it comes to magic. Shouldn't you wait until you're able to put that talent to good use?”

"I...suppose."

She stood up and grabbed her belongings.

"Well...I suppose I must be off. To bed I go. Thank you for your...crude words of wisdom, Sir Dinadan.”

"You are welcome,” he replied smugly. “And don't call me sir. I ain't one of those dopes in shitty armor. Just a regular merc.”

"...Right. Just Dinadan. Such a simple request won't be forgotten by the great Asha…Soleil… yawn~”

She was too tired to hype herself up in front of him. She sighed and walked out of the dining hall, prepared to take a nap.

Dinadan sighed back, and shrugged.

"What a weird girl.”

[bigwraith]

Hmmmm do I take Pact of the Chain for a familiar that can be a pseudodragon or do i take Pack of the Tome so I never need to sleep again

[jaeminvore]

MY (ACCIDENTAL) DEMON ROOMMATE

PART IV: so mote it be —

word count: 4.9K (omg my written updates are just getting longer and longer 💀)

warning(s): mentions of blood, death and some lore sprinkled here and there.

Y/N does not do her translating assignment.

To be fair, the deadline is set next week Thursday, meaning that she has plenty of time to fuck around until the inevitable pressure forces her to actually work on the godforsaken assignment.

It’s not like I need to go to college anyway. Y/N thinks with an eyeroll and she pushes the cubed potatoes into the boiling pot for tonight’s dinner, chicken curry, with a wooden spoon.

Dinner was had, everything has been cleaned up and all that’s left for Y/N is to waste away in bed until she feels tired enough to fall asleep in the wee hours of a chilly Saturday morning. For now, she thinks it’s high time to wash away today’s grime, grimacing at her stained sweater that was unfortunately subjected to some bitch spilling their coffee on her. Whether it was on purpose or not, Y/N didn’t really care, stripping down to nothing as she carefully slipped into the bath and sighing at the warmth that immediately loosened her tense muscles.

Although the linguistics major had no plans on actually doing her work, she is still a curious person by nature. Well, curious is an understatement considering said curiosity had led her to falling into the rabbit hole of the occult, so deep that there’s literally no going back. Which is fine for her anyways, besides there’s always someone with a… quirky interest and Y/N is obviously no exception to that.

What aroused her curiosity tonight however is the lone dictionary Sunoo had lent to her before she left campus. It’s still a wonder why the English major was in such a rush; he looked quite panicked as if he was going to be late for something important. Oh well, it’s none of her business anyways, at least she still got what she needed from him.

The dictionary in question sits on her work desk where the rest of her study materials she had organized earlier to trick herself into actually doing her work, but that can wait. For now, she’ll let herself be pulled in by her curiosity once more.

There’s a thoughtful pout pulling at Y/N’s lips, staring down inquisitively at the big dictionary laid before her.

She had migrated herself and the dictionary to the bed once she had completed her nightly routine, and now that Y/N has made herself comfortable on the plush surface with both of her wireless earbuds stuffed into her ears, she gets down to business with the huge book resting idly on her lap.

It looks rather old and it’s surprising that it isn’t falling off the seams yet as Y/N continues her thorough examination of the old tome. Of all the language courses she could have taken for an elective, she had chosen Latin and it was only to her relief that Sunoo had taken the course last year or she would have been in deep shit right now. Was it because she wanted to be different from the people who had favored French or Spanish? Maybe; or was it because Latin was the primary language that could be found in any material that involves the occult? Most likely.

(Besides, she’s still waiting for the day where she’ll finally get her hands on a demon summoning guide. Better start early in learning a third language!)

Looking at the dictionary closely, the title is obviously written in Latin and she could only pick up a few words here and there, one of them being “guide”. Y/N hums as she traces the weathered spine before she flips in open to a random page and again, she is met with more Latin and 80% of them were words she hasn't even come across yet. Then again, what did she expect from Mr. Jung who’s notorious for going off on tangents? She took the class to learn something for fuck’s sake, not listen to him going on about how his coffee was bland that day.

“Ah shit.” Y/N hiss at the initial sting she feels on her index finger, “paper cut.” She mumbles, peering down at the barely there cut on her index finger for a few moments then shrugging as Y/N continues on her search.

The further she goes, however, is when she starts seeing notes written here and there in English. They weren’t necessarily the words she needs per se, but they’re still interesting enough that she starts reading them out loud.

Y/N isn’t able to hear herself speak at the moment due to the earbuds playing some obscure rock song, but she can still hear herself in her head and the way the words roll off her tongue is satisfying, growing more confident in her pronunciation as she flips to the next page.

In all honesty, she should have stopped from there—should have stopped at the sight of bright red letters that strangely resembled blood calling out to her, but it was too late when her lips curled around the first syllable.

“Te invoco a profundus inferni, Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae—ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me.” She says out loud. Y/N only said it because she recognizes the word “demon” and since her curiosity is the driving force to all of this, she repeats it again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

Maybe it’s the undivided attention she’s giving the dictionary that made her ignorant to the fact that her entire bed shook at the first round of reciting the incantation. Maybe it’s the fact that the music playing is loud enough to drown out the storm going on outside; the way the wind seems to howl louder when she repeats for the second time; how the rain lashed against her window and the rumbling of thunder shakes her entire home as the lightning lit up the skies at the third.

At the fourth, her room is immediately bathed in darkness as her music stopped blaring in her ears. That’s when she looks up and waits for a full ten seconds to see if the electricity comes back on. It usually does come back immediately after that as the condominium she resides in has a generator, but when twenty seconds went by with still no electricity, she knew something was up; especially when she hears a thump outside of her room followed by something shattering.

A shiver wracks Y/N’s entire frame when her bare feet touch the cold wooden floors. Earbuds long abandoned on her bed, she jumps when a loud roll of thunder sounds, her heart pounding as she takes tentative steps towards the door as goosebumps rise on her skin from the sudden drop in temperature.

Now Y/N isn’t scared. In fact, it takes a lot to scare the living daylights out of the linguistics major, but she would be lying if she says she isn’t the least bit unnerved at this very moment. For one, she lives in a high-rise condominium with very tight security so it’s less likely for someone to break into her unit and the fact that she can sense that something or someone is in her home right now has her on high alert.

The hallway is pitch-black when she steps out of the comfort of her bedroom and her heart drops when she hears grunting followed by a string of curses.

And since Y/N has no regard for her safety whatsoever, she calls out, “hello?” Wow, if she was in a movie, she’d be the first to die.

Whoever it is freezes at the sound of her voice.

“Who are you and how did you get into my home?”

Her breath hitches when she hears the intruder chuckle, wincing when porcelain remains crunches underneath their boots and gasping at the blood red eyes that seem to glow so bright in this level of darkness looking right at her. “Hello, little human. Is that how you greet the demon you’ve summoned?”

What the fuck.

The who she what now?

By some invisible force, the door slams shut behind her and in the blink of an eye Y/N, finds herself backed up against the wooden surface with the same glowing red eyes staring her down.

“Don’t act innocent, little human.” The voice hissed. “You spoke the words loud and clear. Your desire for power… I felt it.” Wait a goddamn second… that voice sounds awfully familiar. “The desperation for a demon at your beck and call—” Y/N, not very impressed with the whole monologuing spiel, takes her chances and reaches for the light switch, flicking it on.

It takes a little while for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, wincing all the while and even all the blinking to get her eyes used to it is not enough to prepare her for what she is about to find in the narrow hallways of where the bedrooms are; and there she finds herself gawking at the tall figure standing before her, appearing as baffled as she is.

“Sunghoon?” Her voice is understandably laced with surprise and disbelief as she takes in the sight of the silver-haired architecture major doing the absolute most in making himself appear even more bigger than he already is. Strangely enough, it reminded her of the standing emoji the longer she stares.

Sunghoon… Y/N had no opinions on him besides his appearance. She only knew him as the quiet and handsome guy from the Fashion and Design department of DU and that he was somehow friends with that kind and sweet English Major Y/N quickly took a liking to. The further Y/N and Sunoo had gotten close from being seatmates, she had found out from him that Sunghoon was majoring in architecture and he’s only taking creative writing to fill in his units.

Having that vague image she had of Sunghoon conceived in her mind, that obviously wasn’t the case now that she has to watch the man himself go through the five stages of grief once realizing how ridiculous he looked just standing there beside the broken remnants of the vase Wonyoung had given her earlier. If the situation was a little different, Y/N wouldn’t have the faintest thought that Sunghoon was a demon in disguise. Then again, he did somehow find a way to get into her house so other possibilities were immediately erased from her mind.

God, she couldn’t wait to see the look on her friends’ faces once she gets the chance to brandish her newly acquired companion like a show dog.

By now, the intimidating front the man had on moments prior melts away once he doesn’t sense any fear from the girl donned in pastel, leaving his face blank of any emotion except the momentary sheepishness as he lifts his hand, flicking the switch off.

The hallway is once again bathed in darkness except for the glowing red eyes. “Who is this… Sunghoon you speak of?” ‘not Sunghoon’ speaks, the deep and gravelly voice obviously forced.

“Sunghoon, this is really embarrassing for both of us, stop that.” Y/N huffs, switching the lights back on, immediately giggling at the look of defeat on his face. “So you’re a demon, huh? What’s your whole backstory? Is Sunghoon even your name? And what do you mean ‘summon?’”

Y/N doesn’t even let him get a word in, deciding to fire questions just as Sunghoon is about to answer Y/N’s question of: ‘are all demons dressed in the same dark aesthetic?’ and he had no idea if he should be offended when her face twisted, displeased at the thought. Then again, based on his own observations, she was quite fond of any articles of clothing that looked like it’s been shat out by a Unicorn, color wise.

With a sigh, Sunghoon promptly stops her from talking by covering her mouth with his hand, “can we talk about my origins later?” He says, exasperated as his glowing pupils fade into an inky black. “How did you draw blood?”

“Blood?” Is the first thing that comes out of Y/N’s mouth the moment he lets go.

Sunghoon stares at her as if Y/N has grown two heads. Is this really happening to me right now? “Yes. Blood. You do know blood is needed for a summoning ritual, right?” Y/N only stares back at him, not saying a word. “Sweet Satan—fine. Let’s put it this way: how did you hurt yourself?”

“Oh! Easy,” Sunghoon raises a thick eyebrow at the sudden optimism. “Papercut!” She beams.

“A papercut.” The demon parrots dumbly, staring into nothing.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re an idiot…” Sunghoon trails off and Y/N’s eyebrow slowly raise as she watches the life fade out of his pretty eyes. “Great. Just great.” He mumbles to himself as he fixes his gaze onto her again. “A papercut.” He repeats again, mostly to himself, not really impressed by her method in spite of it being very unusual and almost unheard of.

“Hey, it really hurt!” She argues.

Sunghoon snorts, “oh I’m sure it did.” For an idiot. “You’re taking this whole thing surprisingly well. The last human I served fainted about three times before they finally accepted that they’ve managed to summon me.”

“Would it weird you out if I say that I’ve been desensitized to the whole sacrificing my soul to have a demon of my own thing? Besides, haven’t you seen my twitter? I have been very vocal about wanting a demon of my own.”

“Oh yes, how could I ever forget? Just making sure since I literally cannot smell an ounce of fear on you and it scares me.”

Y/N makes a face, leaning against the door, “now that’s weird.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “you’re one to talk.” He mumbles.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Can we take this somewhere else?”

* * *

That somewhere else is the kitchen.

“So, you found a book… that you didn’t know was a guide to summoning demons.” The demon clarifies, arching an eyebrow when Y/N nods eagerly as if this was a normal, everyday conversation.

“Technically, I borrowed it, but I don’t think the owner is aware that S—” Wait… does that mean Sunoo could possibly be in the same situation as her right now? Her sweet Sunoo? Holy fuck, does Sunghoon know? “A friend—” She continues, not at all minding the demon' slightly narrowed eyes at her almost slip-up, “—had lent it to me by accident since I was supposed to be borrowing a Latin dictionary. Hell, even I wasn’t aware they had one.”

Sunghoon snorts. Humans. “Right, then you got a papercut and read the incantation four times?”

“Is… there a specific amount for it to work? I just like how it rolled off of the tongue so I said it as many times as I could.”

“It works just once.” Sunghoon shrugs. “But I’m assuming repeating it more than once makes it even more powerful if Satan allowed a fucking papercut to be enough.” He snorts, “a drop of blood,” he pauses to laugh quietly to himself, “the old man has grown soft.”

Y/N shrugs, smiling slightly, “maybe I am an exception? After all, I am rather desperate to have a demon at my beck and call.” She sing-songs, flashing Sunghoon a sharp smile to which he returned with a rather amused one.

“Maybe.” He says softly as he lets his gaze trail after the girl skipping towards the refrigerator.

“Would you like anything to drink, oh scary demon?” Y/N asks as she pulls the doors open.

“Yes I’d like a—” The words die in his throat, “hang on,” Sunghoon suddenly says when he realizes the gravity of the situation at hand as he takes a seat on one of the bar stools he pulled out lined up underneath the breakfast nook. “Why aren’t you wearing any pants?”

Y/N, in the middle of looking for something to drink in the double-door fridge, paused to look over her shoulder with an arched eyebrow and then grinning as she observes Sunghoon avoiding to look past where the hem of her oversized shirt ends. “For one, I live alone, why would I need to? Besides, if a killer were to break into my home, maybe our enemies to lovers arc will start by me seducing them with my wit and charm and then getting fu—“

“Oh for the love of Satan, please, shut the fuck up.” Sunghoon manages to say in between his spluttering, eliciting a howl of laughter from the girl.

“Never thought a demon would be so prude.” Said demon glares at her for the comment. “At least you said please.” Y/N shrugs, “so, are you going to give me the demon talk? Ask me to make a wish in exchange for my soul? To be honest, the whole slow burn death is not how I expect my death to be like.”

“Slow burn death—no, are you hearing yourself? Also, taking souls has been a thing of the past, we don’t really do that anymore. At least for now.” Sunghoon clarifies as he levitated a can of soda for himself, ignoring the girl’s gawking as he too used his freaky demon powers to crack it open.

“So a virgin sacrifice then.” Y/N concludes once recovering, “unfortunately for you, buddy, I’ve not been one for a long time now.” She says with a very loud sip of her Caprisun.

Sunghoon almost chokes, “what? No! Will you let me finish?” Y/N raises both of her hands in surrender, prompting him to continue as the demon rubs at his temple, “as I was saying, collecting souls is a thing of the past. Earth isn’t the only one suffering with overpopulation, you know?”

She lets out a low whistle. Does that mean that most people that had passed from recent times end up in Hell now? “Damn, is it that bad? And to think I’d already accepted my spot in Hell.” Y/N muses.

Sunghoon visibly cringes. Yeah, no he wouldn’t want someone as deranged as Y/N to be part of Hell’s population. She would enjoy it too much, maybe even flirt with Lord Satan himself if she was particularly in a “I’m gonna cause chaos” mood and he did not want to be questioned on why his client isn't suffering like the rest of the damned souls stinking up the sulfur invested place, nor does he want to be subjected to Satan’s wrath.

“It’s too early to think about whether you’d end up above or down below anyways.” Besides, it’s not like Heaven was all sunshine and rainbows. From what he heard from some angels he had come across in the past—where most of them were subjected to Jake’s shenanigans—Heaven was no walk in the park either. Imagine having to abide by rules. Thinking about it just makes him nauseous.

Sunghoon takes a generous gulp from his Coca Cola. He should have gone for a bottle of vodka even if it doesn’t really do anything except make his throat burn. “One wish you desperately want in exchange for something you value with your life.”

Y/N hums, taking a sip, “well, I do have a lot of things that are precious to me.”

“Good, pick one for me to take and I’ll grant whatever it is that you want.”

“The only problem is that I… don’t really know what I want?” She says sheepishly.

“What.” Sunghoon deadpans, crushing the already empty can with an iron grip. “What do you mean? You humans always have something you want but can’t get.”

“Sure but… I literally can have anything I want. I mean just look at the place I live in.” Y/N says, arms spread out to brandish the entirety of her condo unit. “It’s what I get for being born to wealthy but emotionally unavailable parents.” She shrugs, chewing on the straw of her drink.

“Do you see a therapist ‘cause that was way too dark, even for me.”

“No. I’m just used to it I guess.” Y/N laughs, smiling as she places the almost empty Caprisun on the quartz counter and completely ignoring Sunghoon’s calculating gaze. “So what happens if I don’t have a wish for you to grant?”

“Then I’ll stay here until you think of something. I’m already bound to you the moment you summoned me using your blood, little human and knowing you, I bet even an idiot would know how pleased you are with this arrangement, hm?” Sunghoon grins, his prominent fangs peeking that perked Y/N’s interest as she leaned over the counter to take a closer look. Though the grin doesn’t reach his eyes, even more so when he realizes that his newly appointed client has taken obvious interest in his incisors as he leans away, bemused.

Y/N pouts, crossing her arms.

The demon snickers as he hops off of his seat to stand to his full height, “with that being said, I am bound to you until I grant you your wish.” He says, resting both of his palms on the counter, “which means, I am yours, as you are mine, until we complete both sides of the bargain.” Sunghoon then holds out his hand, “do we have ourselves a deal, Y/N?”

“I’ve literally been waiting for this my whole life, of course we do!” And she grabs his hand with no hesitation.

The devious grin Sunghoon had on previously is back in full force as he squeezed her hand, “so mote it be.” He says and his eyes glow a piercing red; almost like rubies and Y/N finds herself staring into them as if she were in a trance.

That’s when Y/N feels it and it isn’t a pleasant feeling at all. You know how in Harry Potter where they described apparating or using the Floo Network was like being squeezed in a tube, as if your insides are being scrambled? This is heaps worse, but even if she wanted to keel over from the discomfort and the ghost of occasional pain, she couldn’t.

Y/N could only stand there frozen, still gazing straight into Sunghoon’s blood-red eyes as the demon arches an eyebrow, seemingly impressed by her resilience. Any other human by now would be crying out in pain—begging for him to stop what he’s doing, but it’s apparent that the human before him is built quite differently; not quite as fragile as his previous humans were. And as handsome as Sunghoon looked at the moment, Y/N can’t help but let a spike of fear pierce her racing heart. After all, despite the insanely good looks the man possesses, he is still a demon through and through and she knows he is capable of killing her when he sees fit.

“Relax, little human.” Sunghoon hushes again once sensing her fear and with a snap of his fingers, the uncomfortable feeling stops just like that. “I have no plans on killing you, unless I want to die myself.”

Y/N breathes in sharply as she slumps over the breakfast nook, coughing as she takes in greedy gulps of air. “What the fuck was that?” Y/N say, winded.

Sunghoon brushes away the imaginary dust from his shoulder, “proof that you agreed to our contract.”

“By touching you and going through whatever that was?”

“It’s a precaution. Think of it as me placing a tracking device on you except I feel what you feel. It notifies me whether I need to be by your side to get rid of whatever is threatening your life.” Sunghoon says coolly as Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up at the information.

Now why was that hot.

“Does—does it go both ways then? Like if you’re hurt then I’ll feel it too?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, “no. Demons are naturally immune to many many things, hunger is one of them and the need for sleep. I can assure you that you won't feel anything from me. Other than that, I have to keep you alive until our contract ends, or we’re both screwed if you die.”

“That does not make sense to me whatsoever, but since you're the one with freaky powers, I’ll take your word for it.” Y/N smiles shakily as she lifts up one of her hands for a thumbs up.

“The dizziness will fade soon, don’t worry.” The demon reassures her, a wry smile curling on his lips as he observes her weakened form. “For now, I have to take care of some things first.” Y/N regards Sunghoon with mild interest, watching him reach out to her with his right hand.

She only blinks when the same hand holds her jaw, lifting it up slightly as Sunghoon tilts his head with a smile. “Remember what I said?”

She makes a face at that, “dude, you said a lot of things. You can’t expect me to remember all of that.”

“Then let me give you a refresher, Y/N.” His fingers then squeezes her cheeks briefly as he leans in close, “I am yours as you are mine.” He says smoothly, “now say it back to me.”

“I am yours as you are mine.” Y/N repeats.

“Good. You listen very well.” Satisfied, the demon lets go of her jaw, both hands now stuffed in his pockets. “I’ll see you very soon, little human and remember, do not tell anyone about this.”

With that, he takes a step back, flashing Y/N one last grin before vanishing into a puff of black smoke, leaving Y/N still slumped over the breakfast nook as she stares at the spot where Sunghoon—her demon, previously stood in wonder. Did all of that just really happen?

Though the doubt instantly fades when her eyes land on the lone, crushed Coca Cola can on her left-hand side, indicating that yes, Park Sunghoon, architecture major by day and creepy, crawling demon by night was here and now bound to her.

previous | masterlist | next

[mp100fanworkstranslation]

He too, is an evil spirit PART 2

PART I Here

Tome: Thanks for coming with me to pick up my stuff Ekubo-chan. Ekubo: Heh Youre a student. How could you forget your homework? Tome: Hehe -They round the corner and there’s sounds of arguing- Tome: Huh? Ekubo: Huh? Voice: You made me feel so good after. Reigen: Well thats really…. Voice: I wanted to ask for your help again, and I never thought I’d run into you here. It’s too much of a coincidence. It must be….

Ekubo: What are they doing? Who is that? Man: You saved me! It was all your doing. Reigen: Im glad to hear that. Man: I’d love to have you over so I can properly thank you. Please come to my place. It’s very close to here. Reigen: Oh you dont have to thank me. It’s my job. I couldnt possibly accept.

man: It’s really very close! Reigen: I’m so sorry, today is a bit inconvienent. Ekubo: Why is it this guy (Reigen) who’s run across an unsavor character? Tome: What a needy client... Man: Surely, you’ll accept, right Master Reigen? I’d love a personal massage from you. Reigen: I’m sorry, Curse removal house calls are not part of the service package that we offer.

Tome: Ugh gross Tome thinks: Oh

Ekubo: Hey Reigen Got Trouble? Reigen: Ekubo

Reigen: Oh no, He was just on his way home, right? Man: Um well... uh.... yeah,... sure. I’ll see you around then.

Reigen: Ow! The hell are you doing?!

Ekubo: He transferred his obsession... things like this arent worth eating. He grabs it and it pops. 

Reigen:?  Ah, Tome, did you pick up your things?  Tome: Ive got everything, Thank you Mr. Reigen. Reigen: As you just witnessed, there’s  dangerous stuff out here. It’s best you head straight home.  Tome: Okay

Ekubo: That situation didnt look good... and why are you come along? Reigen: I wrapped up earlier than expected. Why don’t you go return your body and I’ll take Tome home. Ekubo: So then... who’s taking you home. Reigen: What?  Ekubo: um Ekubo thinks: Shit....  Reigen: Hey... You....uh... Ekubo: Apologies, I did not mean to imply you were an idiot or anything Reigen: Sounds like you did.  And how long were you going to hold on to that body anyway.  Look, I appreciate the concern, but enough is enough. You can’t keep doing this. Ekubo: I’m aware

Reigen: If youre aware, why don’t you get going? Ekubo: This guy works the night shift today, so it’s not problem if he sleeps later. Reigen: I know but...

Tome: So then... this too is a form of favortism is it not? 

Tome: Ekubo-chan is an evil spirit, so he shows a kind of favortism for certain people.  Ekubo:................ Reigen: Um...Wha.... Tome: He said so earlier.  Tome: Isnt that an odd thing to say? He said it was because he’s an evil spirit. | Reigen:..... Ekubo: Having favoritism for specific people is something that humans have too, you know. 

(Note: I’m not sure if theres a better word for this, but the term that’s being used is Favoritism + Preferential Treatment. Ie. treating someone better than other people, because you like them. Like a positive bias thing.)

Reigen: Tomechan, we’ve.... lets leave it at that.   Tome: Huh?

-Narration- I don’t quite understand how these two relate to each other . If I had to describe it, theyre like bastard friends that still for some reason trust one another. 

-Narration- Bastard friend (This is kind of hard to describe, but it’s a bad friend that brings out the worst in you.) Friend Employee It doesn’t really matter what you call it. What ever it you call it, it ought to be preceded by the phrase “An Important”  Whether it’s giving importance to the other... or for you yourseld to be regarded held up as important.....they seem happier around each other because for it. It’s like the calming glow of single bulb at the dark core of them both. 

Tome: So then.... one would give preferential treatment to someone they’d assigned a special importance to. I guess an evil spirit would think in that manner.  Reigen: Please kill me Tome: Evil spirits are so difficult to analyze... Ekubo: I’m being analyzed?

-Narration- The evil spirit will be back at the consultation office tomorrow. Because he has a kind of affinity towards the boss

-Narration- No one is asking him to come, and he has not obligation to be there. He does so out of a kind of favoritism, bringing a kind of caring of his own accord.  Tome: Ah....So....do you know what he smells like? -Narration- I guess this is fine Reigen:You mean Ekubo? How would I know? Ekubo is sniffing his sleeve: Cigarettes. This guy smells like cigarettes, Im pretty sure.

-Narration- As for reason? It’s because he’s an evil spirit.  (Note: Im not sure who is speaking below:) Reigen: Can I take a whiff? 

Ekubo: Wha..This idea that people have their own unique smells to people isn’t a thing. This is ridiculous,

Tome: Guys? 

Reigen: I feel like he’d should smell like cucumbers

Tome: Hey Guys? GUYS!

[nirikeehan]

Hap Fri!! “Forbearance - Withholding response to provocation” for Dorian and Cullen the chess-playin besties?

THANK YOU RO I love them and haven't had much of a chance to write them. I got very excited and combined this with two other prompts. From @syrupwit:

And @highwayphantoms:

Though I definitely cheated and made that thin ice figurative.

Anyway here's a few glimpses into their friendship for @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1514

---

“Forbearance, Commander,” Dorian says with smug triumph. “You must have forbearance. Withholding response to—”

“I know what ‘forbearance,’ means, Dorian,” Cullen says, scrutinizing the board. The Tevinter mage has a tempestuous playing strategy, all flash and pomp — much like his performance on the battlefield, Cullen suspects. He’s trying to provoke Cullen into a trap, that’s plain as day. Cullen takes a more conservative move, causing Dorian’s brows to knit in confusion. 

“Fascinating,” Dorian mutters, pressing a fist to his mustache, elbow propped up on his knee. “You and your intellect always are a delightful surprise to me.”

“I assume that’s a delicate way of saying you expected me to be a meathead,” Cullen comments blithely. 

He looks up from the chess table in the garden rotunda and catches sight of Thalia entering from Skyhold’s Main Hall. The late afternoon sun catches the auburn in the plait she’s coiled around her head, making it glow like a halo. His mouth feels dry as he watches her, unseen, head to the herbalist to discuss the current potted crop. 

“Meathead? Hardly,” says Dorian, oblivious. “I assumed the Inquisition wouldn’t let an idiot run their army. Now — uncultured? Well, you are from the wilds of…” 

He looks up and trails off once he sees Cullen’s face. He turns and follows the Commander’s gaze. “Ah. My, my. The Inquisitor, eh?” 

“What?” Cullen shakes his head to clear it. “Er, no, of course not. I’ve no idea what you mean.” 

A wide grin spreads across Dorian’s face. Shit-eating is what some of the crasser Templars Cullen has known would call it. “Methinks he doth protest too much.” He chuckles. “I encourage it, my friend. I’m sure she’s lonely, after I had to let her down gently.”

“You?” Cullen cries. “She tried to—?”

“Girlish flirtation only, I assure you,” Dorian says, holding up a hand to calm him. “I got the impression she’s not got much practice, shut away in the Circle all those years. Though who can blame her? I am so devilishly handsome, after all.”

Cullen snorts, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Dorian’s tone turns serious as he once again contemplates the chess board. “But you ought to take the initiative soon, I reckon. The moon eyes she makes at that brutish Grey Warden when we’re in the field together are quite unseemly.” 

Cullen stares, unsure if he’s joking. Dorian puts Cullen’s king in check and smirks. “Your move.” 

—

“What must one do to get a decent glass of Minrathous red around here?” Dorian grumbles at the diminutive barkeep. 

“Pay for importing costs,” grunts Cabot, unimpressed. 

With a tragic sigh, Dorian opts for a local pint of what looks like nug urine and resigns himself to the depths of Herald’s Rest. The tavern is bustling this eve, full of off-duty soldiers, mercenaries, pilgrims and the like. Skyhold has become quite the tourist destination — though given the limited options this far into backwater country, no wonder people are flocking here in droves. 

Dorian has brought along an esoteric tome on the principles of time magic and plans to tuck himself into a nook and read until he comes too drunk to continue. Unfortunately, his journey to the desired alcove is blocked by several large soldiers bearing the Inquisition’s crest. They are deep in their cups, and, Dorian can sense from a lifetime spent in the cutthroat circles of Tevinter elite, out for blood. 

“Since when d’we let Vints have the run of the place?” demands the first lout. 

“Since this one was invited here by the Inquisitor,” Dorian responds brightly. 

“’S not right,” says the second barbarian, even drunker than the first. “Vint, Venatori — I see no difference. You lot always thinking you’re better’n us.” 

“And the dark magic!” Chimes in the third. 

“Yeah, yeah. Damned sorcerers just runnin’ about, uncontrolled, unrestrained—”

“Ah, yes, social mores you’re unaccustomed to in this neck of the woods,” Dorian cuts in, smiling. “Good thing, yes, that your Inquisitor freed all the southern mages as well? So that we can all run about unrestrained together.” 

The thugs pause, too inebriated to sort out whether they’ve just been insulted. Dorian considers a small controlled burn of their breeches to prove his point. A little fear of the power of free mages might keep them in check. He sets down his drink, holding up his bare palm to conjure a flame. 

“Good evening, soldiers.”

The wastrels stand to attention upon hearing the Commander’s voice. Cullen strides into view, hand resting on the hilt of the sword he’s deemed fit to bring with him to dinner. Cullen arches a brow at at his men. “I trust you are not giving the esteemed Lord Pavus any trouble?” 

“No, ser,” grovel the unfortunate degenerates. 

“Glad to hear it,” Cullen says lightly. “It would be a shame if you three were relegated to cleaning detail twice in one month for insubordination.” 

The grunts give their apologies and shuffle away, imaginary tails tucked between their legs. “Where on earth did you come from?” Dorian asks, taking a sip of his subpar ale. 

“The corner right over there.” Cullen points to a round table laden with the tedious paperwork that must take up most of his day. “It has the best vantage point in the tavern.”

“Implying you were watching me since I entered?” Dorian narrows his eyes. 

Cullen shrugs. “You dress so sharply, it’s difficult not to notice.” 

Dorian lets out a guffaw; the Commander’s sense of humor takes him by surprise sometimes. “I appreciate the concern, but I had those ruffians under control.” 

“What was it you said about forbearance?” Cullen sobers. “Don’t let them provoke you. They’re just looking for an excuse.” 

“Mm.” Dorian feels a strange gratitude tugging at him. He takes another swig of ale. “Well, right now I am looking for a place to sit and read this dusty tome. Do you perhaps have room for me, Commander?”

“I suppose I’ll have to move a few stacks of reports,” Cullen quips, a smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “but I think I’ll be able to manage it.”

—

Cullen misses one chess appointment, then another. Dorian tries not to take it personally, until he does. 

“I understand you are a wholly busy man,” he announces as he strolls into Cullen’s office, “but it is polite when one must cancel an engagement to at least—”

He stops. Cullen stands in the center of the room, holding aloft a philter of glowing cerulean. Easily recognizable: no mage is a stranger to lyrium and its properties. But the way Cullen stares at it, like a desert-choked man stares at his last gulp of water, is unsettling. 

“…Are you quite all right, Commander?”

Cullen jolts, as if freeing himself from a trance. He glares in Dorian’s direction. “Have they not yet invented knocking in Tevinter, Dorian?” 

The enmity in Cullen’s voice surprises him. The Commander is a man of measured tones and biting subtext; direct aggression seems beneath him. Dorian crosses his arms over this chest, struggles to let logic win out over worry. The sheen of perspiration stands out on Cullen’s brow in the dim office’s candlelight. Dark circles stand prominent under his eyes, which are — feral is not quite the correct term, but not too far off, either. 

Dorian licks his lips, considering his next move. He recognizes what’s happening, even if he does not understand why. 

“Ah, no. You see, doors are not a necessity in my homeland. We simply go where we like, when we like, and enjoy a nice warm breeze in the process.” He keeps his voice light and conversational, inching closer — slowly, so as not to startle. “Might I ask what it is you are doing?” 

“I should be taking it,” Cullen mumbles, confirming Dorian’s suspicions. Cullen presses a palm to his forehead, wincing. 

“Why have you stopped?” Dorian asks quietly. 

“Because… because.” Cullen takes a ragged breath. “I cannot be beholden to them anymore. The Templar Order… I want to owe them nothing. But I… I need… the Inquisition needs…” The bottle shakes in his hand. 

“I see.” Dorian takes a breath. Crisis intervention? Not his strong suit. Charm them or mock them — or kill them, that he could do. He thinks of Alexius, of poor Felix, and he feels quite tired. “Then I think we are on thin ice here, Commander. That is the phrase they use in the frigid south, isn’t it?” 

Cullen blinks a few times, as if seeing Dorian for the first time.

“You take the lyrium, and you believe you are fulfilling your duties to the Inquisition, yes? But if you do, you are giving up something it does not seem you want to give.” Dorian tilts his head. “Am I right?” 

“I was told… the lyrium would make us stronger, better. Holier, even.” Cullen shivers at the memory. “They were lies.” He holds out the lyrium bottle, eyes pleading.

“Forbearance, Commander. Remember?” Dorian takes the bottle, relieved that Cullen releases it easily. He holds the Commander’s gaze, nodding. “Don’t let the bastards win.”  

[mildkleptomania]

Hello, Tumblr, welcome to my little artist hole in the ground, where I commit my Dark Work

the work isn't THAT dark, really, it just sounds cooler when i call it my dark work, but anyway

Hi!

You can call me Ishmael (or Klepto, because it grew on me), and this is my big debut post on this site (and the interweb in general, really) as long as you ignore all those other posts on the blog already shhhhhh

I'm going to be using this blog for... A lot of things, really, but probably most notably posting art I've done! This would mostly be original setting works, though I'm not ruling out the possibility of posting the occasional fanwork, in the event I do one

Also, I might develop a game about one of these! That's not going to be very soon, but I'd like it to happen eventually, and I'll probably link to them if/when they happen

Settings I'll post art about include:

A science-fiction setting featuring a Republic of (space) Pirates, space alien cat people, humanity being one of the older, more established civilizations in the area, at least one megacorporation, and a bunch of assorted Weird Space Junk [i don't have a real name for this one oops]

A monster collector setting where people escape to a digital world to ride out the post apocalypse, but the digital animals have gotten a little, ah, hostile, which is weird because they weren't programmed to be so that shouldn't be possible [THE SPIRIT ELECTRIC]

A spooky eldritch setting in an alternate Earth where a good chunk of the America-analogue's power grid used to be plugged into a giant divine-ish tumor! It's, uh, not anymore, though! Accidents happen, and some have heavier consequences than others [Phase Theory]

A fantasy setting with like elves and giants and dragons and stuff, which isn't the best selling point, but maybe the fact that magic existing has enabled some suspiciously post-industrial technology is a better one? Also the dragons are from space kinda [Tomes]

various offshoot settings that share names with, but are somewhat different from, the main settings, and maybe blur the lines between setting A and setting B a little

yes the characters standing behind my fursoña there are each supposed to be representatives of one of those settings why do you ask

other things i forgot

AND MANY MORE

anyhow, NOT ONLY will following this blog get you art sometimes, BUT ALSO you'll get me rambling aimlessly about assorted nonsense for paragraphs on end! Stunning! Spectacular! Amazing! Some other word that invokes superlative qualities!!

Art will be tagged #my art, if something gets especially horror-y it'll get tagged with #horror and anything relevant, I'll try tagging the settings with the setting names, if i talk a lot i'm going to be tagging that with #rambling, uhhh

please don't be mean to me, i'm not here for shit and i WILL use all the tools at my disposal to obliterate you (by which i mean i'll probably just block you if i think i need to, which is functionally obliteration from my end, or maybe sending you to the shadow realm? idk)

also it should go without saying, but if you're in one of those genres of terrible person that wants me or my loved ones dead? Please Leave! On your way out, consider Not Doing That, or Dying in a Hole Maybe! Don't really care which, up to you honestly

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

you KNOW i have to ask about Soulmates Library: Hawke and Varric

First I must ask if you've seen the Magicians. In the show they have a big ass library that tells the tale of everyone's life. But I changed it to meet my own ends. So. This is just the start because I haven't figured an ending out yet. But please enjoy.

The ocean crashed along the shoreline as Hawke and Varric trekked along, not sure what exactly they were searching for. They'd come to the islands to hide, with their friends in the wind and the continent falling apart. They thought they could escape just for a day or two. But as they walked and walked and walked, sand creeping into every crevice they had the irrigation was high and patience growing thin.

"Where the shit are we going?" Varric asked, dusting some sand from his hair.

"It's not far,"

"Not far from where? Civilatstion? A bath?"

"Who knew dwarves could be so grumpy anyone would think the sky was about to eat you,"

"Ha ha ha, very funny Hawke. Can I get a clue?"

"Merrill told me about it,"

"Great. So another demon then," he rolled his eyes

"No she said it was just-" Hawke pulled back a fern, gasping when she took in the sight of the oasis. The water was crystal clear, the trees created a perfect shade over the pool. Small fish swam amongst the lily pads and tiny butterflies fluttered amongst the many wild flowers in the sand.

"Andraates knickers, remind me to buy Daisy a present."

"I shall, maybe a new mirror," she pondered, not too long. Throwint her weapons to the ground, shrugging off her armor and leaving her in her underclothes. She cannonballed into the water, the water splashing up and soaking her dwarven companion.

"Hawke," he stared down on her , wiping the water from his eyes.

"Varric," she said in the sultry tone that sent shivers down his spine, only her eyes visible as she sunk into the water swimming towards him like a predator.

"Hawke," he warned, throwing his duster on the ground and placing Bianca next to her weapons. His steps slow as he tested the water, "I ever tell you the story of the dwarf who swam to far and sunk to the bottom of the sea?" She shook her head, "good, I forgot to write it down anyway."

The his second foot hit the water it started to glow, the blue aura pulsing and shining around them. "Varric," Hawke yelled scrambling forward and wrapping her arms around him

"What the fu-" he is cut off, searing lights filling both their vision as they hold each other close.

"UgH," they both shouted as they landed with a hard thud. The water rushed over them and soaking the marble floor they were sitting on.

"Hello," Hawke smiled, her hand sliding under Varric's chisled jaw and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Hawke," his tone warned, moving to stand, which was hard with such a large woman sitting atop him, "you're crushing me."

"Liar," she winked, moving to help them both up.

"Hey ah, Hawke. Where are we?"

"Not sure, seems kind of dusty. Maybe an old ladies house? Maybe Merrills grandmother?"

"Hawke?"

"Yes, Varric,"

"Is this A library?"

"Seems so," she says, blowing a thick layer of dust off one of the books on a nearby desk, "the tale of the champion," she reads aloud.

"Least they got some taste," Varric said, scanning the shelves, pulling put a rather large tome, "what is this? Elvish?"

"Who are they?" Hawke peers over his shoulder, pointing at the tall dark haired woman next to the shorter stocky man, his blonde hair tangled through her fingers as she angles his face upto hers.

"Seems to be-" he pauses, watching her move faster than he had seen before, "Umm Hawke, what are you doing?" She's tearing books from the shelves, opening them and flinging them onto the ground.

"Varric," her panicked voice echoing in the large room, "varric these books," she threw another onto the pile, "they're all about us."

"Hmm," he ponders, rubbing his finger into his stuble, "makes sense."

"What? Why would these be here? Why would they even exist?"

'Marion," he takes her hand. "Apparently I love you in every universe, in every way possible."

"That's cheesy, also not true."

"Not true? What more proof do you need?"

[blazregaliadream]

Hel Gunnthrá Unit Concept

Gunnthrá

-Hailstorm Banshee- General of the realm of the dead. Under Hel's command, she is tasked to pursue [Summoner] and eliminate them. Blue Tome - Infantry Mythic Hero - Darkness/Res Weapon - Ice Coffin [Mt. 14, Rng 2] Accelerates Special Cooldown (-1). Adds bonus to Atk = Total debuffs on enemy. If unit's HP ≥ 25% or if unit is within 4 spaces of an ally, grants +5 to Atk/Spd/Def/Res during combat, and if unit attacked, after combat, inflicts【Gravity】on the nearest ally until their next action. Animation: As a blizzard blows across the screen, the enemy is confined in a coffin of ice and then impaled with several ice spears. Special - Iceberg A - Atk/Res Ideal 4 B - Permafrost Body Inflicts Atk/Spd/Def/Res -7 to the enemy with the lowest Def and inflicts Atk/Res -7 to foes within 2 spaces of target. Also, if unit's Res > foe's Res, reduces damage from attacks during combat and from area-of-effect Specials by percentage = difference between stats × 4 (max 40%). C - Fatal Smoke 3 Unit Dialogue ==Summoned== "To think you'd have the nerve to bring me back after everything... So, how would you like to join me?" ==Character Page== "Hmph." "I am Gunnthrá, a permanent engravement of your failiure." "If you're so sorry, desist your sniveling and come with me to your grave." "Shhhhhh, you won't have to suffer anymore. Just one kiss and I'll make -everything- go away." "... so cold... even my heart... augh..." "Promise me... promise me we'll never be apart again. Your warmth is all I've ever wanted." ==Castle Dialogue== "So Nifl decided to spare Fjörm. I can't help but be envious..." "Even though he had joined Hel's ranks, I made sure Surtr felt my wrath every time I saw him." "The only fate that burning kingdom deserves is for it to all fall, including their bloodthirsty dragon." "If you have time to worry about me, you have time to write out your will." "At one point, I thought I had ran into mother down in Hel. Illusion or not, the sadness I saw in her eyes almost made me want to cry..." ==Friend Unit== "Another summoner who couldn't save me? Much like [Friend], I see." ==Skill Learned/Blessing Conferred== "I suppose the stronger I become, the swifter I can deliver death." ==Tap Quotes== "Who's come to die?" "Do not fail me again." "A dark fall..." ==Special Quotes== "I'll make it quick!" "Desist in your struggling!" "Ice entomb you!" "SILENCE!" ==Level Up== 0-1 stats - "Do not complain. This is the price you've paid." 2-4 stats - "One by one, they all succumb to the chilling winds of death." 5-6 stats - "Are you watching, [Summoner]? This is how you put the worthless out of their misery." ==Death== "Summoner... it's so... cold..." ==Lv. 40 Conversation== "This warmth... [S-Summoner]? I... I can't even begin to apologize. I struggled so hard against Hel's influence, but in the end... I've been so cruel to you, and-- My goodness, [Summoner]!? Your hands... I... Oh my dear [Summoner], I've missed you! Shhhhh, it's all right now. My heart will never forget our oath again. From here on, not another soul will tear us apart ever again!

=============================================================

‘Tis unfortunate I can’t find any art of this concept and I ain’t confident enough to try myself. (Not really the type to draw bonez) Anyway, I originally had this idea around while Book IV was happening. I originally was gonna make the skills and stats based on her as a Year 3 unit, but when I revisited to finish it, we were already well into Book VI’s madness and the crazy shit they were doin’ for units. Didn’t want to make her too crazy, and if I were to go ham, I would’ve had Ice Coffin have Blizzard’s refine, bumped up her Res some more, and then muse the idea of a Fatal Smoke 4 (as if that skill wasn’t already a pain in the ass to deal with LMAO) Thinkin’ about it tho, a Menace skill would be more appropriate since I gave her an Ideal skill, but ah well, surely you have a unit to provide her with a bonus or two, right? RIGHT? Coming up with her personality and writing the lines was the toughest part since the idea of Gunnthrá going from the wholesome mom friend who loves you with all her heart to a ruthlessly cold meanie who’s love for you turned into a nasty grudge makes me sad ;-; But when you’re coming up with an idea for AUs like these with your favorite characters, ya gotta make that jump. That said of course, as you can see, traces of her old self can be heard. I have a story in mind, but I doubt anyone cares since this is Gunnthrá, and I dun really know anyone who actually likes her outside of being a great unit post-refine. But anyway, there’s my idea that nobody asked for! Maybe I could try putting together an idea of the Nifl siblings’ ancestor, Hvergel, as a unit.

[tedturneriscrazy]

Another Saturday, another episode! Let's take a look at Keeping Up A-fear-ances!

(Good lord I'm starting to make myself sound like some sort of content creator)

Oh, okay, we're just starting at that level of intensity, huh?

Chest gem origins

Gwendolyn not being satisfied with managing the curse and determined to cure it? I'm sure this won't be a real world allegory in the slightest.

Oh, so Eda literally just stumbles upon the portal? I could call that contrived, but honestly it's not dissimilar to how Dipper found Journal 3. For that matter, the entirety of Lord of the Rings is predicated on an accidental discovery like this and nobody gave Tolkien shit about it.

Was the eye on the portal cracked in previous episodes? I don't remember.

Seems like Gwen is the "well-meaning but ultimately misguided" flavor of mom.

As an aside, I am now quite curious about how Eda's first trip to the human realm went. Maybe a future episode will cover it? At any rate, I smell a new favorite fic prompt.

The screaming alarms in the Demon Realm will never not be funny to me.

Also, that is a worrying number of hearts. Eda is straight up murdering these poor creatures.

For some reason the gold fang being removable never occurred to me as a possibility, and now I feel like a kid who's discovered that Santa isn't real.

Oh hey, the new outfit! I'm also impressed how close to symmetrical that tearing was.

I need to get a screencap of Luz sleeping on that stack of books because she is adorable.

Also, staying up all night researching? This season seems determined to completely eradicate the notion of Luz being dumb, and I am here for it.

I have a feeling the Hexside mug will be making its way to The Mystery Shack in the near future.

Lilith's first experience with transformation and she seems understandably horrified.

The curse acting stronger when stressed? That seems...important.

Ah, so the dismemberment is from the curse! A surprisingly useful side effect from what we've seen so far.

Can I just say that I appreciate how Eda's reaction to Lilith's first taste of transformation is immediate remedy, explanation, and reassurance? And doesn't make any snarky comments along the lines of "now you know what it's like?" Whatever happened in that week and a half must have been cathartic as hell.

"Always. Always curious." Luz is the TOH fandom.

(Also, Eda, you know she is, considering how much she went on about your "mysterious past" at the Covention)

"Magic bird tornado?!" Luz has a way with words that's just *chef's kiss*.

"Gwendolyn." Eda is already just fucking done.

"MOM?!?!" Jeez, Lilith, you're just now hearing all this?

I was charmed by how motherly Gwen was acting toward Eda, but then she kinda just...dismissed Lilith, and now I'm somehwat less charmed.

(Sweet flea as a term of endearment is kinda cute, though might have some unfortunate implications depending on how you want to interpret it)

"Who knows what they put in those nasty concoctions?" OH WE GOING FOR THE ANTI-VAXXERS NOW YESSSS

Luz and Lilith's reaction to that whole exchange is priceless.

Everyone's perspective here makes perfect sense for who they are and what they've been through.

Poor Lilith. Her cursing Eda is beginning to make more sense.

Ah, thus begins the collaboration.

"We'll be consulting someone very special." Why does that seem so...ominous?

Is there anyone who watched this episode for the first time whose bullshit detector didn't go off immediately when Gwen mentioned finding someone who promised a cure?

Heh, Palm Stings.

Nonbelievers will be blinded by the power of the tome? I'm sure they will be, Wartlop.

I must say, as something of a scientist myself (okay that's not true, I'm a QA tech for a food manufacturer, but I do have a chemistry degree), I am 100% here for the swings being taken at faith healing/"miracle" cures/anti-vaxxers in this episode

Oh, we Wile E. Coyote now, huh?

Also, interesting how much apple blood is being played up in this episode.

Lilith please you're projecting your mommy issues on a literal child

OH WE REALLY JUST WILE E. COYOTE HUH?

You're right, Luz, Gwen's bicep game is goals.

(Somewhat disappointed the scars are from questing and not beastkeeping, but eh)

Why do I get the feeling there's gonna be a future episode where everybody stages an intervention for Eda's apple blood problem?

"Those feathers mean we're driving the beast out" Gwen no

Hooty is holding the brain cell? Oh no...

If that ice cream came from the Night Market it would explain why Lilith sounds drunk.

(Side note: I can't be the only one getting flashbacks to Mermista's ice cream binge, right? Different context, but still)

"Abomi-berry" "Franken fruit" "Key slime pie" These are A+ flavor names.

Oh, there's the transformation...

I must say that whole segment kinda rubbed me the wrong way. The way King's opinion on his dad was changed seemed...I don't know how to describe it. I get that they needed a trigger for Lilith's transformation, but honestly if any part of the episode is contrived it's this.

"¡It really is that good!" So that's what an accent slip in written form looks like. (The upside down exclamation point is used in Spanish, in case anyone didn't know)

I keep half expecting Eda to say "Beep! Beep!" at this point.

Luz is finally asking questions. Took long enough.

Ah, the classic "moving the goal posts to extract more money from a desparate family member" technique.

Luz channeling Scorpion, we love to see it.

There is an exquisite irony in Eda's mom being scammed, I must say.

Ah, so that's where the elixirs went. Dammit, Gwen.

Luz is definitely thinking "Are you fucking kidding me right now?!"

Beast!Lilith is massive.

"Sweet flea?" Gwen just realized she done goofed.

"I can see you still need a little time." God Luz is so fucking smart.

The con revealed.

OH DAMN SCARY MAMA

(Also I am terrified of bees/wasps, so extra scary mama in my book)

The scam is revealed, goblins, getting back into the Wartlop disguise is kinda pointless.

She joined the Beast Keeping coven entirely to cure the curse? That's dedication. A shame you couldn't have spared some of that for Lilith.

Still, I do like badass scary mama Gwen. I'd be down to see more of that.

Owl Beast fight!

I am slayed by the fact that the portraits are now officially a recurring gag 😂

Aw, here's The Moment™️

"My turn to drive" Does this imply cars are a thing on the Boiling Isles after all?

Lilith crying almost immediately💔 She was holding onto a lot of pain.

Yes, King, she was trying to do her best. I mean, road to hell or whatever, but at least Gwen got there in the end.

WHAT?! YOU'RE BREAKING UP LULU AND HOOTCIFER?!?!?!?

Terrace, that's just cruel. (Worthless brownie points for whoever understands that reference)

No, seriously, you can't just give me my favorite inter-character relationship in the series after Lumity and just...take it away like that, come on! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I know I should remark on how Lilith told Gwen about the circumstances of the curse, how Gwen rightfully accepted responsibility for the whole situation, and how Luz finds the big hair aspirational, but...NOOOO DON'T END THE ADVENTURES OF LULU AND HOOTCIFER WHYYYYYYYYY💔😭💔😭💔😭

"BUT I CAN'T HOLD A PEN!"

I will never emotionally recover from this.

Okay, I think I got that out of my system. Anyway...

Not the only human, huh? Cue the "Belos is a human" theorists going into maximum overdrive.

That said, a tantalizing lore dump.

We certainly do have a lot of garbage. Some of it even holds office. HEY-O!

Setting up the next episode, too. Continuity!

Camp's over, huh? That means it's been three months.

Way to misdirect with Camila, guys. That said, we have now seen Camila cry and I HATE it. (In the right way, I think)

WHAT THE FUCK

HOLY SHIT

CREEPY LUZ IS REAL WHAT

OWJEIWHQGIWWOPQ

(It's hard to keysmash on a phone, even with autocorrect off)

That wraps it up! The flaws in this episode seem more pronounced than any others in the season so far, but the good stuff was really good! Overall a solid episode! I know everybody's looking forward to library Lumity in the next one (so am I), but I'm personally eager to see what they do with Gus. His part is the A plot, after all.

Anyway, I'll be back at this next week! Still hard to believe this is a thing, but that's life, I guess.

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 145 - Infectious Doubts

Gertrude: Look, Arthur, I need you to understand that this isn’t simple posturing. I don’t see a way we can meaningfully progress this conversation while you’re under the impression that your threats mean anything to me.

Gertrude's intimidation tactics have a very pragmatic tone to them, don't they?

Gertrude: Ah. ... I assume you haven’t checked on, uh, Eugene, then?

Creepy threatening Gertrude is creepy and threatening.

Gertrude: You know, thinking about it, the amount of pain and loss and legitimate devastation I’ve caused among your little cult over the last, what, forty years? I think the Desolation is probably very fond of me.

Oh, that is rather fitting given what a BURN that comment is.

Gertrude: Murder, kidnap, torture, oh, something to impress the church group.

... pffft. "The church group" - the image I'm getting right now is delightful, a bunch of Desolation worshippers discussing horrifying deeds over cake and tea out of pastel porcelain cups.

Arthur Nolan: Agnes was always quiet, but even if you spend all day, every day throwing out commandments and laying down parables… at the end of it, you’re always just the point of someone else’s story, everyone clamoring to say what you were, what you meant, and your thoughts on it all don’t mean nothing.

That sums it up, doesn't it? Poor Agnes, never her own story.

Arthur Nolan: The one thing it never does is just… tell us what to do. It seeds us with this… aching, impossible desire to change the world, to bring it to us. Then it leaves us to guess and bicker and fight over how the hell you can actually do it. If it’s possible.

You know, given my own spiritual crises (none of which involve a cruel god of devastation, fortunately) ... I get it. On some level this quote is downright fucking relatable!

Arthur Nolan: Figure if you’re gonna pull this stuff out of me, might as well get some of it off my chest anyway.

Makes sense, might as well find something good in it!

Arthur Nolan: Not like I can vent to the others about what a prat Diego is. Got a lot of funny ideas. Still calls the Lightless Flame Asag, like he was when he was first researching it. I just really wanna tell him to get over it; I mean Asag was traditionally a force of destruction, sure, but as a church we very much settled on burning in terms of the – face we worship, and some fish-boiling Sumerian demon doesn’t really match up, does it? Plus there’s a lot of disease imagery with Asag that I’ll reckon is way too close to Filth for my taste, but no, he read it in some ancient tome, so that’s that –

I may have mentioned it before but I absolutely adore the way the Church of the Lightless Flame squabbles over what is considered its orthodoxy, it's so realistic. And so hilarious.

Gertrude: Well, I can’t say I –

Ah, the moment when Gertrude starts regretting her attempt to compel Arthur Nolan. "I can make him talk, alright, but how the HELL do I get him to shut up?"

Arthur: Always respected you for that. Takes a strong stomach to not give a shit. Gertrude: You’ll forgive me if I’m not overjoyed at the compliment.

... you fully deserve it, though. The shoe fits, so the least you can do is put the damn thing on!

Arthur: Had an elderly tenant last year, oh, she was in a terrible state. I had her trapped, too poor and immobile to do anything but – sit there. Then I broke her boiler, so the cold started to get her.

The way this perfectly maps onto real life tragedies that weren't so much the result of sadistic action as careless negligence is ... well, I don't know what it is but it's notable.

Arthur: All your burning questions answered?

Pfffft.

Jon: I wish I didn’t know how painful it must be to be alive while your entire being is infused with… agonizing grit. But, as I was investigating, it… came to me.

Jon needs a hug and industrial-strength brain bleach.

Jon: I’m… I’m alright. I’m trying to, uh, rest up a bit. Take it easy. Georgie: Really? ‘Cause – I’m pretty sure I heard talking about a screaming headless corpse just now.

Well, Georgie is nothing if not forthright. I guess not having fear includes not having the sort of social anxiety that underlies many social niceties?

My impression of this episode

Gertrude is utterly terrifying, especially given the way we know her to usually act (the little old lady mask, so to speak) compared with ... THIS. And terrifying is what I'm here for so I enjoyed this conversation immensely. The fact that Arthur Nolan is somehow grimly hilarious doesn't hurt either. And I do so enjoy the Agnes plotline (even if trying to think about the timelines of anything related to Hilltop Road, including this, gives me a headache).

[ahsbitch]

Yes, Mr. Langdon---Fire & Reign!Michael Langdon x Reader

Word Count: 3228

Summary: Reader is F&R!Michael’s assistant, who is always quick to do whatever he asks. Michael wants to see how far she’ll go to do just that. 

Warnings: NSFW, lots of swearing, masturbation, Reader gets a facial, bootlicking, degradation, humiliation ish?, some Mean!Michael, but also kinda Soft!Michael at the end bc I’m soft and lonely at heart, that’s all I can think of idk

A/N: Hi I’ve literally never written any AHS stuff before so I apologize if this sucks but I really hope it doesn’t  

Being the personal assistant to the Antichrist was definitely not the easiest job in the world.

But when held in comparison to your time in restaurant service, it definitely wasn’t the hardest either. 

At least here, you rarely had to deal with obstinate customers. Most people were too frightened of your boss, Mr. Langdon, to yell or be rude in his presence, which you were constantly in, and on the occasion that they were rude or stubborn anyway, he had a tendency to give a little wave of his hand, incinerating them before your very eyes. 

No, the rudest and most needy person you typically had to deal with was Mr. Langdon himself. 

The rude came and went in waves. He could be cruel, demeaning, downright evil at times. He acted, in short, much like one might expect the Antichrist to. But sometimes, he could be charming, gentle, occasionally even sweet. 

The neediness came and went in waves too, although it was more often very subtly present than anything else. Usually he was commanding, powerful, clearly in charge. But sometimes, although still commanding, he could be almost childlike in his confusion and frustration. 

He was kind of an asshole, but he wasn’t the worst boss in the world. There was something about him that was compelling, that made you feel a great desire to please him. He was always specific about what he wanted, and you always complied, no matter how out of the box, how insulting, how simple or extreme, how kind or how demeaning. You said yes to everything he asked you. 

And he had begun to take great notice of it.

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

“Fucking, fuck, dammit to hell, this fucking, son of a bitch!” 

You sat at your desk just outside of Michael Langdon’s office, transcribing a giant tome of text as instructed by the Cooperative, and listening to your boss curse loudly at inanimate objects. 

You should probably get up, check on him, but you decided that until he reached the point of breaking things-

“Fuck!” He shouted, and then there was a bang and a very, very loud crash. 

Yeah, until he started doing stuff like that. 

You rose with a shake of your head, knocking sharply on his door three times. 

“Come in,” Michael sighed, and as you walked in you took note of the shattered computer against the opposite wall of his desk, turning back to look at your boss with his head laying against said desk, hands gripping at his golden curls.

Dammit, he was frustrated. 

Frustrated Michael could be particularly difficult to deal with. 

You stood before him, hands folded neatly in front of you, smiling pleasantly even though he wasn’t looking at you yet, “You sounded like you might be in need of assistance, Mr. Langdon. Would you mind fixing your computer?” 

He grunted quietly, giving a little swirl of his hand, although he didn’t lift his head, and you stepped out of the way as the technology flew back into place, drifting into its original position. 

“Very good. Now, if you don’t mind, could you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m not a child, Y/N,” Michael growled, and you bit your tongue gently to resist the urge to laugh. 

Moving to the side of the desk, you smiled to yourself at his little temper tantrum, “Of course not, Mr. Langdon. I am merely at your service.” 

“Of course you are,” Sitting up finally, he turned to you, and you were amused to see the pout that sat on his lips, the intimidating man looking suddenly very young, more his own age, “The mouse won’t work.” 

“May I?” You didn’t wait for him to agree, already wiggling the mouse once and then moving to the wires of the computer, fiddling with them quickly before sliding the mouse back to Michael, “That should do it.” 

“What was wrong with it?” He glanced up at you, voice gruff, although you could hear a hint of curiosity.

You shifted where you stood, trying to mask your discomfort, “Just, uh, just technology stuff.”

“Y/N,” Turning in his chair, Michael pinned you in place with his gaze, and you were unsure whether this was metaphorical pinning or not, with how frozen you felt, “Tell me what was wrong with it.”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” Trying to keep your smile in place rather than let a grimace take you over, you grit your teeth in preparation for him to do something violent, “The mouse wasn’t plugged in all the way. It’s a fairly common issue. Happens all the time.”

You tensed, but to your surprise Michael didn’t yell or break something or curse, like he usually did when he felt a sense of ineptitude. Instead, he laughed, and normally that would’ve scared you even more, but it was such a warm and gentle laugh that you felt yourself relaxing ever so slightly as he spoke, “Of course it was. Tell me, Y/N, is there anything wrong with you?”

Shrugging, you let yourself perch on the edge of his desk with a giggle, “Plenty of things, believe me.”

“Tell me some?” 

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” Pausing, you mused over your words, testing each on the tip of your tongue before you said it, “Let’s see. My left foot is bigger than my right. I think jealousy is a very ugly emotion, and I hate it, but I have a lot of insecurities, and often find myself jealous of people around me in spite of my best efforts. Um, I read cheesy romance novels in my free time even though the writing usually makes me cringe. When people ask me what type of lipstick I use I always lie because I don’t want anyone else to have lips that look as good as mine. Oh, and even though I exclusively call you Mr. Langdon out loud, I will confess that in my head I usually refer to you as Michael. It’s faster, y’know.”

Chuckling softly once more, Michael nodded, “Those don’t sound too bad, as far as problems go. You’re lucky.”

“I prefer to think of myself as adaptable.”

“Fair enough,” He grinned, but something dangerous glittered behind his eyes, “You can go now, Y/N.” 

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” You flashed him a small smile before hurrying out of the room.

Michael watched you leave, musing over your words. 

How far, he wondered, how far could he go with his wishes, before you gave in, before you said no. 

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

Why the hell wouldn’t you say no to anything?

It was beginning to drive Michael crazy, watching the way that you gave in to whatever he asked, even when he was being absurd. 

You spent a full day doing all your work in nothing but your underclothes, simply because he asked. 

You gave sat on his lap through a whole meeting with other members of the Cooperative, your superiors, simply because he asked. 

You let him order you to do tiny things. Hand him pens that were two inches away from his fingertips. Kiss the floor where his chair had been sitting. Adjust the brightness of his computer screen for him only to come back and adjust it to its original brightness approximately two minutes later. Simply because he asked. 

What wouldn’t you say yes to? 

He was musing over this as he waited for you to return from a coffee run.

There you were, carrying two paper cups, a pleasant smile on your face. 

Always that same damn smile.

“I have your hot chocolate, Mr. Langdon,” You set the cup in front of him on the desk, “Thank you again for allowing me to get myself a drink.”

Michael glanced up at you, frowning, “Y/N, I always let you get yourself a drink.” 

Shrugging, you raised the cup to your lips and took a sip, “I know you do, Mr. Langdon. But it feels right to thank you. You’re a good boss.” 

Maybe not so much, He thought to himself as he twitched his hand, watching you drop the cup almost in slow motion, watching as the lid came off and your drink spilled just a bit onto his lap, just a bit onto his legs, cursing as the rest came splashing down onto his shoes. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” You gasped, staring at your now empty hands in shock.

Sneering at you, Michael snapped twice, “Don’t just stand there, Y/N. Clean up your mess.” 

“Right, I’m sorry, Mr. Langdon, let me go get-”

“No,” He grabbed your wrist, not allowing you to move away, and you turned back to him in confusion as he continued to tug you closer, “Get onto your knees, open your mouth, and clean up your mess.” 

Holy fuck.

Ignoring the way your face burned, you averted your eyes, whispering, “Yes, Mr. Langdon,” As you dropped to your knees.

Where exactly were you meant to go with this? 

Michael raised his foot, nudging your chin with it until you looked up and met his gaze, his eyes holding something dark and urgently, compellingly dangerous, “Well? Get to work, Y/N.”  

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.”

Before you could even think any further, he had touched the toe of his boot to your mouth, pushing gently against your bottom lip until you opened for him. 

He was a remarkably clean person, and beyond the taste of your coffee even the shoes themselves didn’t taste particularly bad. 

Probably because they cost more than your apartment. 

You moved slowly at first, but as Michael brought his hands down to wind tightly through your hair, you sped up. You lapped at the droplets of coffee, over the grooves of his laces and up to the sharp, pointed toe of the boot, and when you were done with one you switched to the other. He gripped your hair tightly, guiding your head, forcing you to bob up and down as you cleaned his shoe, and you wondered vacantly to yourself if he did the same thing while he was getting a blowjob. 

Probably. 

“Good girl,” He praised as you worked, his voice softer than you expected, and even Michael seemed surprised as he cleared his throat, his tone becoming darker, “You’re not bad at this. Do you do this often?”

Pausing your ministrations briefly, you shook you head, “No, Mr. Langdon.”

You were back at it immediately, feeling him tug at your head.

Michael was trying hard to sound intimidating, and of course he did, he always did, but there was something shockingly gentle behind his voice even as he growled, “Good. I should be your first priority. Tell me, do you enjoy this?” 

You had finished against his shoes, pulling away, and he released your head as he examined them, smirking at your heavy breathing, at the way you panted your answer, “Would you, uh, do you want me to enjoy this, Mr. Langdon?”

Narrowing his eyes, a frown etched across his face, “What? I mean, no. No, I don’t want you to.”

“Then I don’t,” You shrugged, rocking backwards.

Fuck, you were going to kill him. 

“What if I wanted you to?” 

“Then I would.”

Clearing his throat again, Michael stared at you for a moment before patting his thigh, “There’s coffee on my pants, as well. You’ll need to take care of that, too.”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.” 

He didn’t touch you this time, instead bringing his hands up, reclining further back in his chair and resting his head against his palms as he watched you. 

Starting at the cuff, you stroked your tongue up his pant leg, pressing absentminded kisses occasionally as you went. By the time you’d reached the tops of his thighs, Michael was straining forward ever so slightly, dragging the chair closer to you with one ankle hooked around his desk, and then meeting up with his other ankle to lock behind your back. 

You took the hint, mouthing along the outline of his cock.

Holy shit, he was huge, and you hadn’t even seen it unconstrained. 

He hissed, quietly, his hips bucking forward as you licked your way up to his zipper, clamping your teeth onto it and tugging down without much thought. 

“Stop,” He said firmly, almost laughing as you scrambled back, “Don’t be greedy.” 

“Sorry, Mr. Langdon,” You dropped your gaze and licked your lips, tasting the remains of your coffee. 

“Is this...” Trailing off in thought, Michael guided your face upwards once more, forcing you to make eye contact with him, “Is this embarrassing for you, Y/N?”

“Do you want it to be embarrassing for me?” 

“Stop that,” He snapped, his grip on your chin tightening, “Stop bullshitting me. Give me a real answer. Truthfully, is this embarrassing for you?”

Tapping your fingers along your thighs, musing over your answer a moment, “Truthfully? Of course it is. A lot of the things you have me do, especially lately, I find humiliating.”

There it was. Now would you finally give in, finally reject a request? 

He didn’t say anything, just reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. 

Neither of you spoke, staring at each other instead, and hesitantly you reached for it, flinching as Michael slapped your hand away just as you brushed your fingers against him.

“I told you not to be greedy.”

“Sorry, Mr. Langdon.”

After a moment more, Michael nodded, wrapping his own fist around his cock and beginning to pump it. You watched in fascination as moved, at the way his long fingers wrapped around his thick, long, perfect cock. 

“Y/N,” Snapping you out of your daze, Michael paused to spit into his hand, moving rubbing along the head of his dick before returning to his former position, “I want to jerk off onto your face. I want you to sit there, and watch me, and I want to finish on your face, and when I’m done, I want you to thank me, and I want you to leave it there. Leave it for the rest of the day, so everyone can see how desperate you are to please me.”

Surely, surely you would say no to this. 

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.” 

A growl made its way out of his throat before he could stop it, and he sped up his pace as he watched you fold your hands in your lap, adjusting your knees a little, staring up at him through your fluttering lashes. 

Snarling, Michael grunted, “You’re pathetic, do you know that?”

Did he want you to answer? 

“Keep your pretty little whore mouth shut, got it?” He spoke like he could read your mind, and you decided he probably could as you clamped your teeth shut, nodding quickly as he continued, “Fuck. You’d do anything I asked you to, huh? If I told you to kill someone, you’d do it without question, wouldn’t you? Hell, you’d kill yourself without question, if I asked you to. I think you like feeling humiliated. I think that your pussy gets wetter and wetter every time I tell you what to do. I- shit- I’m your fucking boss, and you’re on your knees for me before I can even finish telling you that’s where you need to be. It’s absurd. You probably want me to fuck you right now. You’re probably wishing I would let you open your mouth so you can swallow me down, you’re so desperate to get a taste of me.”

He was getting closer to finishing, you could tell, his rhythm getting faster and faster, his words becoming more sharply articulated. 

Michael kept going, almost like he was talking himself into cumming, “You can’t wait for me to finish, can you? You can’t wait to feel completely possessed by me, like I’ve somehow claimed you. You can’t wait for everyone who you see to stare at you, full of disgust and confusion. You want it, don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” You nodded, shutting your eyes as he let out a low, shaky groan, his warm cum coating your face.

Fucking hell.

You opened your eyes slowly, carefully, unsure of whether or not you should move. You watched as Michael stuffed himself back into his pants, zipping them quickly, and then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, holding it out to you.

You didn’t take it but blinked up at him, staring, “I, um, I thought you said to leave it.”

Clicking his tongued, Michael started wiping your face himself, his touch incredibly light, “I thought you’d say no. Tell me to stop. Maybe report me to HR.”

You flicked your eyebrow up, an amused smile settling on your lips, “Do we have an HR for the apocalypse?” 

Chuckling mirthlessly, he raised the handkerchief to his mouth and spat lightly, cleaning your face more intently, “You could say no, do you realize that? Why don’t you ever say no to me?” 

You closed your eyes as he rubbed across the bridge of your nose, dabbing delicately at your eyelids. 

“Have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” You asked, finally, as he moved to your hairline. 

His brow furrowed in confusion, “I, uh, no? No, I’ve never seen it.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” His hand moved to your cheek and you leaned into it before you could stop yourself, humming as his thumb moved to run across your skin, “You should watch it sometime. Before you do the whole ending the world thing and kill me and pretty much everyone else in the world and inevitably ruin Netflix. Forget about that. Let’s just say it’s because I’m afraid of you, yeah? You scare me, so I do whatever you say.”

Hesitating for just a moment, Michael pulled his hand away, eyes closed, frowning, “Is that what The Princess Bride is about? Being afraid of your boss?”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, and you found yourself wishing that he would touch your face again, although you didn’t dare say so, “Not quite. Just, uh, forget about The Princess Bride. It doesn’t matter.”

He nodded, folding his handkerchief and slipping it into his pocket without opening his eyes, which you found oddly impressive. 

You kept waiting for Michael to say something, to look at you, to move, to do anything, but he wasn’t and he didn’t and so you stood, and started to move away. 

“Wait,” He spoke finally, and you felt as though you’d been in silence for hours although you knew it must’ve only been a few moments.

“Yes, Mr. Langdon?”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Michael opened his eyes, looking at you carefully, “I mean, the apocalypse. It’s not going to kill you.”

“It’s not? I thought only members of the Cooperative, and the people rich enough to buy a ticket, I thought they were the only ones who were going to make it.” 

He wrapped his hand around your wrist, just as he had before, but this time it wasn’t aggressive, wasn’t rough. He was very gentle, his fingers skimming along the veins, pausing to feel your pulse thump against him, “And you. There will be a place for you in the new world, Y/N, I promise you that.”

And then Michael had released your wrist and turned away, and you made your way out the door and back to your own desk with a soft, “Thank you, Mr. Langdon.”

[mihidecet]

I see You

I’m back on my bs yall. This is meant to be a companion piece to this so if you’re in the mood for some pure and extremely shameless comfort maybe check it out?

I somehow ended up writing 3.8K of Manburg family dynamics, set in an alternate universe where none of the extremely messed us stuff of the canon happened. ((we could have had it all))

Once again do not take this as ship content!! Let’s normalize platonic cuddling and being close with your friends without it being sexual!! Pretty pretty please!!

Contrary to popular belief, Schlatt is not that dense when it comes to feelings. 

His ignorance of other people's emotions is a willing act of defiance. Defiance towards whom, you may find yourself asking?

… Anyway.

Schlatt does notice things. Stuff happening around him. And he does remember them.

He knows Tubbo takes his morning tea with two spoonfuls of honey, and a slice of bread with any marmalade on it except raspberry, which as it turns out he doesn't like. Schlatt stops providing raspberry marmalade, but it never really gets questioned. 

He knows Fundy will get scraped up while exploring during the day, and will always forget to bandage himself up properly, so he makes sure to mention it in passing to whoever is near him at the end of the day - just to know that people will check up on the kid. He doesn't need to go himself, Fundy would never allow him to take care of him directly, and he's not going to subject either of them to that situation. 

Most of all, he notices Quackity - with him being the Vice President, they're around each other a lot. 

Quackity is a bright light in the cabinet. 

While Tubbo is a warm late afternoon glow and Fundy is burning fire, Quackity is sunshine by the seaside on a midday spring day. 

Quackity likes coffee, but only if it's been drowned with sugar. He likes singing, humming tunes to himself as he works or while he cooks - he does it for everyone, whenever he has the time to, and he is one of the best cooks there are. He likes to debate, bringing up topics to talk about during slow times, engaging Tubbo into verbal spars. He makes sure that Fundy has eaten at least three times per day, and that he's gone to sleep at a decent time. 

He smiles to himself whenever he finishes a document. Ruffles Tubbo's hair. Touches Fundy's shoulder to stop him to ask him how he's doing. Taps Schlatt's shoulder to catch his attention.

Quackity is a very tactile person. 

Schlatt remembers him hugging people, throwing arms around shoulders, laughing out loud with tears at the corners of his eyes. 

So it's no wonder that a couple of months into their presidency, with work and paperwork occupying most of their days, Quackity is both overly stressed and constantly fidgeting.

It comes to a point when Schlatt catches him visibly reaching out to people and then backing away, awkward and embarrassed, mumbling excuses before making a joke of being lost in his mind due to work.

That cannot continue. It simply cannot. 

Schlatt finishes his paperwork an hour early that night, then he takes a swig from one of his already opened bottles for good luck and gets to work.

The trip from his study to Quackity's is almost too long - it gives him almost enough time to change his mind, almost enough time to chicken out and just plan something else, maybe unleash Tubbo on him. But before he can formulate the idea in his mind, he's standing in front of the oak door and his hand is already raised to knock. 

Too late to back down. A part of him reasons, despite the fact that it isn't. 

"Come in." Quackity's voice answers after he raps his knuckles against the wood. 

The room inside is dimly lit: the only source of light is a small table lamp that shines a beacon on Quackity’s documents as his pen flies on the paper sheet, the man’s slightly hunched back straightening when he notices him entering, a small tired smile appearing on his face. 

"What are you doing here?" He asks, his head tilting lightly to the side - then bending further, one hand coming up to rub at his neck with a slightly pained expression. Schlatt advances, crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging while Quackity seemingly discovers more and more sore spots along his back. 

"I finished my paperwork, I figured I'd stop by."

"Oh, cool. -” he replies with one final satisfied grunt “- I'm almost done with this."

Schlatt nods absentmindedly, gesturing vaguely with a hand towards a nearby armchair: "You mind?" There’s a moment of confused silence as Quackity looks at him as if he’s grown a second set of horns, a mixture of surprise, amusement and incredulity overcoming his features, then he shakes his head and chuckles to himself. To be fair, any other night he’d have flung himself on his bed the instant his paperwork had been done. Still, Quackity recovers quickly, nodding towards him and swiftly resuming his work.

It’s hard not to fall asleep with the sound of his friend’s pen running over paper calming his nerves, the dimness surrounding them and the comfiness of the armchair under him. He remembers when Quackity had brought it in, slightly old looking and covered in a transparent sheet of plastic: he’d called it a lifetime occasion, found in a yard sale, and Schlatt had doubted its usefulness - after all, they had a couch in the livingroom and multiple chairs for each of their desks. 

And yet, there hasn’t yet been a day when the armchair wasn’t occupied by someone. When the days are cold, Tubbo can often be found curled up in it with a mug of hot chocolate and a blanket safely tucked around his shoulders - by whom should be quite obvious. And sometimes, when the nights are too long and sleep avoids Fundy, he retreats there, silently, and turns the armchair so that he can keep a watchful eye over Quackity as he works - that is, until sleep finds him, comforted by the knowledge that they’re all safe and alive. 

There’s a small bookshelf next to the armchair, filled with tomes both bought, found and written - some in English, most in Spanish. Quackity is nothing but fond and proud of his collection, and while Schlatt’s not going to tell anyone, he has read plenty of poems from the books that looked the most used. He’s aware that his Spanish isn’t the best, but it helps with keeping his knowledge fresh. 

His eyes catch on a thin book that he doesn’t remember seeing before - its title along the spine is a mesh of letters, with way too many consonants, and definitely in a language he doesn’t know. Picking it up, he figures it will help with his task of not falling asleep as he waits, but alas, as on the spine, the whole book is filled with too many long words - is that a whole line of just one? Who made this up?

He starts flipping back to the incipit, in hope of at least finding the author’s name. When he reaches it, though, what catches his attention first isn’t the name itself - Goethe, ah, that’s it, German - but a hand-penned inscription just below. 

“Hey Da Dumbass, I heard you like poetry in foreign languages. Try and read this. Fundy.”

Thankfully, the sound of a satisfied grunt reaches his ears and unknots the tightness in his throat and distracts him from the warmth spreading in his chest.

Behind him, Quackity - he calls him dad - stretches his arms behind his back and sighs. 

"Alright, this one's done! -” he starts, smiling proudly to himself before shooting a somewhat guilty look towards the rest of the documents piled up on his desk “- You know, you don't have to wait for me, I figured since it's not so late I could get a bit of stuff done ahead of time-" Schlatt levels him with an unimpressed stare, then claps the book closed and places it back in its original place before standing up and making his way towards his still sitting friend. 

"Alright, that's it." Quackity looks visibly confused, even a bit worried, as he leans back into his chair, but Schlatt is a man on a mission: he won’t be swayed by it, this is supposed to be an intervention. He stops once he’s close, standing up right next to Quackity, and his friend looks nervously up at him, a high pitched self conscious chuckle escaping him. 

"Wh-what- what's up?" Schlatt gives him a quick look just to confirm his theory, but he knows him. And most importantly, he knows himself, he knows he can manage it. 

"You, in a moment-" He quips, bending down and quickly scooping the shorter man up, one arm under his legs while the other supports his back and then- 

"Wait, hold on- hold on I-” Quackity starts to protest, but by then Schlatt already has a secure hold on him, so up they go, followed by a yelp by Quackity himself as he is quite suddenly hoisted up into Schlatt’s arms, one hand reaching out and wrapping around the taller man’s shirt with a vice-like grip as he splutters, eyes wide as saucers.

“HOLY SHIT-! HOW IN THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?!" 

And to be completely fair, Schlatt is not one to back down from the chance to boast at this type of thing, so he simply shrugs and squeezes him closer with a self satisfied smirk: "I told you I lift, you dumbass."

"I- I- put me down." Quackity gapes, seemingly still wrapping his head around the sudden switch in situation; the way he leans into the hold is probably unconscious, but it does confirm his theory that his vice president, his closest friend, is in desperate need of being on the receiving end of some care and comfort. And he knows, deep inside himself, that he’s not the best candidate for the job, but if nobody’s going to do it then he is for sure going to. 

"I will in a moment. You need sleep." He replies, tone firm but not loud, reaching out with a hand to turn off the desk lamp - inwardly thanking the low light coming from the torches in the corridor for allowing him not to make a fool of himself by immediately tripping on his feet. 

"I- alright, but I can get to my room on my own!" Quackity protests, sounding flustered, and Schlatt has a moment of hesitation as the sudden fear of having overstepped a boundary hits him. Maybe he shouldn't have done this. Shit, fuck, he's screwed this, hasn't he? 

But as he pauses for a moment to look down at Quackity, to asses the situation, he realises that the man is actually clutching at him, and his head is resting under his chin - the soft fabric of the beanie pushing against his cheek the moment he bends his head to look down. Schlatt lets out a steadying breath: he can do this. 

"I know you can. I don't mind doing this, though." He states, firmly but not unlindly, voice softening, and he holds him close again - one armed as he reaches out to close the corridor's door. A huff of breath warms a spot over his chest. 

"I- you're such a fucking showoff, dude." He murmurs, accepting the situation with what sounds like a small smile on his face.

It takes him a minute, but soon he's opening the door of Quackity's bedroom. The shorter man, who had been slowly relaxing overtime, leaning more and more into his chest, startles as if waking up from sleeping and tenses up.

"Alright, now you can drop me off." He comments, but Schlatt is a bit more preoccupied with losing himself inside his own mind as he thinks about what to do next, so Quackity stays up - it's not like he's gonna wriggle around and risk falling on his ass on the ground. After a moment, he looks down at where Q's hand is clutching at his shirt, and at where his head is still pressed against his chest. A part of him is enjoying this too, and isn't really ready to let go, but still, this isn't about him. It's about what Quackity wants.

So he forces his anxieties down, swallows around the knot in his throat and tries. 

"What- what if I didn't yet, though." Quackity is silent for a moment after that, but his hand doesn't unclench, so he counts it as a good thing. 

"You're not making any sense, man." 

Schlatt is stood in the middle of the room, holding Quackity up, keeping him close, and he feels like he's balancing multiple instincts wanting to drag him in any direction - anywhere else other than here, right now, when stuff is so confusing and worrisome and he's constantly scared of scaring Quackity off with something weird. 

But yet again, he keeps it down, keeps it quiet. For his friend. 

"I've been seeing how stressed you are. Is this helping? Please be honest." If he had a free hand, he would be running it through his hair, a nervous habit he's been picking back up. Yet, his arms are starting to feel the strain of holding a body up, so he's not going to risk letting him fall to the ground. After what seems like an eternity, another sigh in the form of a warm puff of breath hits his chest as Quackity concedes. 

"... A bit …"

Good, he can't help but think. Communication is key in these situations. In all situations really, but he appreciates the fact that Q is opening up and letting him know he is alright with being held like this. Spurred on by this, he ponders his next words perhaps a bit too little. 

"Is it the caring or the touching?"

Quackity visibly flinches at the wordings, leaning back a little - pushing more strain on Schlatt's right arm - to stare at him with a sarcastic frown.

"Shit, man, you are such a wordsmith-"

Too quick, too many variables lost to the moment, and Schlatt is swept up in the frenzy of the situation - he has never, ever been good at smoothing out situations. 

"Will you just answer-"

"It's both! Geeze, are you happy now?!" Quackity's embarrassed outburst manages to at the same time shut him up and quieten the anxious voices in his head - so he was right, Quackity did like this, and he didn't mind it. Now if that wasn't a win in his book … he sighs, squeezing him close.

"Yeah, kinda. See, it wasn't hard. You little bitch." He comments, tone way too fond for him to be taken seriously ever again, but he figures he's allowed to be a bit soft - it's late, they're tired, and they're the only ones in the room.

Schlatt decides he's not going to subject himself to the mortifying ordeal of starting to lose strength in his arms - he has a reputation to uphold - so he quickly makes his way to the large bed, turns and sits down, inwardly relieved that he's managed to get this far. His nerves still haven't betrayed him. Yet. At least Quackity isn't launching himself on the other side of the room the moment he has a chance not to fall on the ground if he moves the wrong way. 

"What are you doing?" Quackity asks, sounding genuinely confused as he looks up at him with furrowed brows, so now it's Schlatt's turn to splutter indignantly, the arm under Q's legs sneaking up to wave confusedly in the air.

"I'm about to murder you is what I'm doing- what does it look like?! I'm trying to comfort you!"

A moment of silence follows, during which Schlatt stares awkwardly at Quackity's shocked face. Then Q's eyes soften and he starts chuckling, shaking his head for a moment before he lets it fall back down against his collarbone, sneaking an arm around his waist. 

"Feeling real fucking comforted, for sure." He comments, humour loud in his voice as he squirms around for a moment trying to find a comfortable position, quieting a moment later and letting out a small sigh.

"I am going to throw you into the river." Schlatt answers, bringing the hand that was holding his back up to the nape of his neck, fingers dipping under his beanie to lightly scratch at his scalp, pressing his friend's forehead against his neck.

When Quackity answers a moment later, his voice is but a murmur.

"I thought you were here to comfort me?"

"Shut up and be comforted, then, you dumbass." He huffs out, but there's a smile on his face despite the way he tries to seem angry. He is still way too soft to be taken seriously, and he'll be mad about it later, when Quackity will keep making coffee for the both of them, but then he'll lean into him while Schlatt's making eggs for Fundy, and he'll call him soft when he remembers to add the herbs the young fox hybrid picked himself; not to mention how he'll suddenly realise who had been bringing Tubbo back to his room after the kid had fallen asleep on the couch. 

But still, it's worth it, as he slowly grabs the hand that is still gripping his shirt, gently pressing against his fingers until he lets go; he places it back on Quackity's lap, rubbing what he hopes are comforting circles into his wrist - he knows how bad it can get when you spend all day writing, and knows his intuition payed off when his friend's shoulders relax even further.

To be quite honest, Quackity hadn't even realised his writing hand had been hurting. 

A joke threatens to rise in Q's throat, a way to diffuse the situation, a mechanism born from ages of repressing wholesomeness because that's the type of things that get you in trouble, because feelings get treated as a weakness, but he squashes it down, closing his eyes with a sigh as he lets himself enjoy the moment.

The warmth of a hug that is truly meant, the comforting weight of Schlatt's head against the top of his, the blissful peace that he associates with having his hair played with - It's been a while since he had the chance to do this, to feel this. 

He could fall asleep like this, he thinks, eyes closing on their own and body melting into the sensation, and he finds himself floating, suspended - but also grounded, tethered by the points of contact between their bodies. 

He feels- he feels like he did when Fundy tried to teach him German, him stumbling over the words while the other laughed with him; or like all the times Tubbo brought him outside in the garden, guiding him through the steps needed to take care of his beloved pets. 

He feels at home. 

And after a moment, he feels Schlatt relax too, his movements less precise, less rithmic, his shoulders sagging a bit as they lean more into each other instead of just Quackity against him - and doesn't that feel poignant, he thinks, but not pointing it out loud feels like a better choice. 

He feels before he hears the low timbre of Schlatt's voice, unusually quiet due to a mix of tiredness and the silent atmosphere surrounding them. 

"I'm gonna lie back. That alright with you?"

It takes a moment for Quackity to realise that he is asking for permission. He wants to nod, but that would jostle their heads. So he hums in what hopes is a notably affirmative way, and just to be sure his message is correctly interpreted, he turns his palm upward, fingers wrapping around the taller man's wrist, and squeezes.  

He feels a chuckle vibrate through the chest under his cheek; again, quiet, toned down, but this time it also feels like he's trying not to move too much - and that right there makes him want to never stop smiling, especially whenever Schlatt pretends he doesn't care. Because if there is one thing Quackity knows is that he cares so much, despite the fact that he still pretends he doesn't know how a doctor found their way to Fundy's room after he scraped his knee, the poor medic armed as if somebody had just lost an arm. 

Schlatt thinks he's so good at hiding his feelings, and then he stops buying a specific type of marmalade because Tubbo joked about it tasting funny. He is nothing but a dork, and this has just done nothing more than confirm his suspicions. 

The hand in his hair gently cups his head as Schlatt leans back until he's laying on the bed, and Quackity has to swallow back a knot in his throat at the pure, unaltered sweetness with which he is being treated - like he's fragile, but not in a bad, diminishing way: like you would treat a fancy ancient vase, or a masterpiece. 

Quackity squeezes his eyes, feeling himself get watery, and focuses on the fact that like this, he's not that comfortable anymore. There's no need for his legs to be both over his friend's body, so he shuffles back until he's more curled up against his side, half laying on his chest, head still tucked under his chin - by god how perfectly safe he feels with that soft pressure against his temple. 

Schlatt lets him wriggle around, the hand in his hair never moving, and once he stills his other one moves back to his own chest, where Quackity's hand rests against his heart, and his fingers gently wrap around his. 

"This alright?" Comes a murmur from above him and Quackity's fingers squeeze automatically in response, finding himself unable to verbalise an answer at first.

"Thank you." He breathes out a moment later, after he's able to reign in his emotions just enough for him to find his voice again.

"Don't- don't thank me." Comes Schlatt's instant response, the fingers in his hair halting for a moment as he pauses, seemingly deep in thought. When he speaks again, his tone is once again slow and hushed, and his fingers are once more rubbing slow circles against his scalp.  

"You can come to me for this. Anytime you want. I want you to know that you can count on me."

And oh, alright, Quackity thinks, eyes widening for a moment - he has to hurry and squeeze them shut before he starts tearing up, fighting against the way emotions squeeze at his chest; pure unadulterated joy at the knowledge that this is true, this is good and this is his. His small, dumb, weird family, made of mostly jagged pieces that somehow fit so well together. Quackity clutches at the fingers wrapped around his, squeezing maybe just a bit too tight, throat thick and feelings running, and then he simply nods into his friend's collarbone. 

Schlatt just squeezes back - and that's just how they are, two dumbass friends holding onto each other, doing their best.

Minutes later, he falls asleep, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his friend's chest and the gentle feeling of being held.

[vermanaward]

5.5 thoughts

msq

alisae meeting estinien went exactly as expected and i loved it. i love my angry daughter and melodramatic dragon fren. part of me has Concerns raha’s fanboy mode is a flanderisation but then i think back to CT and it’s like. no, he was always like that.

tiamat ;_; i love her sm.

dungeon was nice. the remix of smoulder is appreciated. i wish we could see areas like pagalthan and xelphatol outside of fucking dungeons but there we go. i will confess to being surprised that they killed LB in a dungeon, but i guess og bahamut was a raid boss already. i really need to finish coils sometime

this said the second boss is basically a reskin/remix of the nixie in matoya’s relict and i’m just. ???

(i do appreciate that the gear isn’t just a reskin though. also the sandals have toes. toes!)

arenvald and fordola shenanigans again went 100% as expected. i keep finding myself liking fordola (as a character) more than i ever expected to.

i like that the writing is questioning the assumptions everyone has about hydaelyn, but i have. bioware-created Concerns about where sqex are going with this. (on the flip side though it’s heading in exactly the sort of direction for the wol’s character that is my jam so like. conflicted, i feel.)

i like that krile is doing things in the story. i like less that she’s being shunted off screen in order to do them.

can we go to sharlayan please. i’ve been wanting to give alphy and alisae’s parents a swirly ever since they let a pair of sheltered sixteen year olds go on a cross world tantrum back in arr.

the final cutscene with zenos made me laugh hard. no you absolute weenies they’re not going to reveal the new job until the fanfest. (apparently someone viewed the cutscene zoomed out using 3rd party tools and he picks up Fucking Nothing)

werlyt

i know it’s A Gundam Reference but all this ‘g weapon’ shit has me dying from second and third hand embarassment

also disappointed i didn’t get to fly it this time around. stupid gaius stealing my stupid robot.

diamond normal is fairly straightforward. one day i will put my big fruit pants on and start running EX anything while it’s vaguely current.

mostly no surprises in the storyline finale but i am glad allie lived. i’m a little sad we didnt get to put down valens himself, and half expected alphonse to go eva unit 01 on us. instead he did an eva unit 02, which is, you know, understandable

nier

i. can’t say i’m surprised at all with the way the storyline wrapped up? it sucks for konogg he’ll never get real closure on his sister (what ever happened to anogg 1.0 anyway??) and it’s unsurprising given how much the story glosses over how the machines even got to the First given as crossover content tends to be [shrug emoji] about such things anyway

enjoyable raid itself though i think. i love the music. though i’m still going WHY at the fact the FF theme is in the fucking final boss music from a crossover raid. it slaps though.

for glam purposes at least, the gear looks nice. just gotta wait until the lockout is removed so it can be farmed.

misc

who’s got two thumbs and sold their exarchic weapon to the vendor before they had enough tomes to buy the rain? this idiot.

then i remembered that i’d been working on the bozja weapon for my main job (rdm) anyway so just went ‘fuck it’. i will prob buy a different augmented weapon once i get the tomes, and sell it on the MB.

who’s got two thumbs, can’t read, and thought the bozja update was today also? ah well.