#also basic anatomy I guess and tilted heads

[thenotsolittlelady]

Guess who's finally trying to draw these two kissing-

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body. 

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.  

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can. 

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso. 

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again. 

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position  

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit. 

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for. 

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock. 

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful. 

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain. 

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it? 

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can. 

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity. 

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge. 

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use. 

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore. 

K = Kinks 

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity. 

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold. 

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence. 

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench. 

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail. 

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping. 

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest. 

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”) 

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.   

[specialagentsergio]

baby kiss it better

summary: When D.C. implements a lockdown order, you and Spencer decide to quarantine together. There’s just one problem—he’s working from home, and his coworkers don’t know about you.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: a few swear words, but otherwise it’s just fluff

a/n: ahh, the secret partner trope. how i love it. this is set in 2020, but with the season 5 cast! i was feeling particularly self-indulgent, so i made reader a night shift worker. this is for you, fellow night owls. stay safe out there everyone, and wear a mask!

a/n 2: i don’t actually know what a doctor or physical therapist would recommend for spencer’s knee injury. this is just going on my basic understanding of anatomy (i took a class in it this fall!) and what i've seen on grey’s anatomy lol.

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Spencer tries not to grimace as he shifts in his chair. Working from home during the lockdown had initially seemed like it came at a great time, starting just a month after his knee injury. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled about having to do almost everything digitally, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being mobile.

Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a downside. Tethered to his seat by headphones, he hasn’t been able to get up and stretch his leg properly, and as a result, is experiencing more pain.

It’s only 8:30, but he can already feel it flaring up. It’s been happening earlier every day, likely due to the existing irritation from the day before. Today is Thursday, and he’s miserable—he dreads to think of what tomorrow will be like.

He’s wondering if there’s some way he could get out of work tomorrow when he hears the sound of the front door being unlocked. He looks up to see you pushing the door open with your shoulder, carrying far too many grocery bags than is reasonable.

“Be careful!” he exclaims, watching as you teeter to the side a little. You just wave him off and close the door with your heel.

Working from home may not have been the positive he was expecting it to be, but you’ve more than made up for it. The two of you had decided to quarantine together, and he’s really loved having you around. Granted, you’ve only been here since Sunday, but he’s starting to think that this is going to end with him asking you to move in with him for good.

He hears a thunk as you dump all the groceries on the kitchen table. Then you’re back in the living room, taking off your mask as you walk by so you can blow him a kiss. He presses his knuckles to his mouth to hide his smile.

Usually you give him a proper cheek or forehead kiss when you get home, but the team doesn’t know about you yet. It’s not that he’s necessarily keeping you a secret, he just... likes having you to himself, and he doesn’t really want it to change just yet.

He’s also not looking forward to the pitch Garcia’s voice is going to hit when she finds out he’s been dating someone for over a year without telling her.

“Are you listening, Reid?” Hotch’s voice makes Spencer focus back in on the screen.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course. Um, I was just thinking that this choice of rope to bind the victims is interesting.” He doles out a few facts about it, which seems to do an adequate job of convincing everyone that he’s paying attention.

They take a break when the main briefing is over—Jack needs something from Hotch and Sergio has apparently knocked something breakable off of Emily’s kitchen counter. He slides his headphones off and mutes his mic. Apparently that’s a cue you’ve been waiting for, because only a few moments later you’re placing a mug of tea on his desk.

“Green tea,” you say. “Might help reduce the inflammation in your knee.” Then you’re lifting his foot off the small stool it’s resting on and sliding another pillow under it so his leg is more elevated.

“Wh—“ he starts, but you’re already hurrying back into the kitchen. You come back with a baggie of ice wrapped in a dishtowel in your hands, which you place it gently on top of his knee.

“Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off,” you say. “Then repeat with heat instead, like your physical therapist said. I’ll get the heating pad from the bedroom.”

“Hey, wait.” Spencer snags your wrists before you can walk away again. “How’d you know it was hurting?”

“Oh, I always know,” you reply. “You should have realized that by now.”

He thinks on that as you leave to get the heating pad, sipping his tea. You do always seem to just know, whether he’s in physical pain, a bad case is bothering him, or even if he’s just in a bad mood and doesn’t know why himself.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

“I’m leaving it by this outlet behind you. Have you been doing your stretches?”

He bites his lip, hesitating because he knows you won’t like the answer. But he doesn’t have to say it; you can tell from his expression.

“Spencer. You know you need to be doing them.”

“I know, I do,” he insists. “I just... can’t really get up and do them with these headphones.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay, so take them off. Your laptop has speakers.”

“But I don’t want to disturb you,” he protests. Since you work the night shift, you sleep during the day, usually heading to bed around 11 AM. He doesn’t want the noise from the Zoom calls to keep you up. Much like the bullpen in the FBI building, the calls can get rowdy.

“You won’t,” you assure. “I’ll just shut the bedroom door.”

“I guess that works,” he relents. “But I feel weird getting up and stretching in front of everyone. Like, wouldn’t that be disruptive?”

You sigh. “Spencer, I understand it’ll make you self-conscious, but you want full mobility in your knee again, right?”

“Yeah, I do, I get it,” he says sullenly, looking down into his mug. “I need to do the stretches if I want it to heal well.”

“Hey.” You take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I just want you to get better and be in less pain. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“You’re not annoying me. I guess I’m just... not really used to being taken care of,” he admits quietly.

“Well, I’m gonna fix that.”

The confidence in your voice makes him unable to hold back a smile. “Alright.”

You smile back. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Spencer’s about to tell you that you’ve done plenty when an idea strikes him. He tilts his head to the side. “Well, there is something.”

“Yes?”

“There’s some research—nothing too substantial, but still some—that says kisses can help relieve pain,” he says.

You laugh, but it’s not unkind. “Oh, so you want me to kiss it better?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, glancing away shyly.

“Okay, then.” You tuck his hair behind his ear and press a kiss to his forehead. “Better?” you ask softly.

He hums. “Better.”

“Good.” You stand back up and stretch. “Well, I’ll be awake for a few more hours, so let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Spencer puts his headphones back on—he wants to wait to unplug them until you go to bed to spare you from hearing anything gruesome—and looks back at the screen to find Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Garcia staring him down. Rather hesitantly, he unmutes his mic and asks, “What?”

Emily is grinning—she looks the more awake than she has all morning. “Is there anything you wanna tell us?” she asks.

“Yeah, Spence,” JJ chimes in, “any new developments in your life?”

“I don’t—” he starts, then it hits him like a truck. He remembered to mute his mic, but the camera was still on. Clearly, they all saw you kiss his forehead. He barely stops himself from hitting his head against the table; he covers his face with his hands instead and groans.

“Isn’t the whole point of all this that we stay away from other people?” Morgan asks, and Spencer doesn’t have to look up to know that Derek has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“People outside of your household,” he corrects without thinking.

“Oh my god!” Garcia shrieks and he winces, pulling the headphones off out of instinct. He’s not the only one—JJ jumps and yanks her earbuds out, and Derek lifts one side of his headphones away from his ear. Spencer hesitantly copies him, putting one half of his headphones back on.

“Jesus, Pen, you scared the shit out of Sergio,” Emily’s saying.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she says, then turns her attention completely to Spencer. “Boy wonder. You’re living with someone and I’m just now hearing about it?”

“I mean, you never asked,” he points out.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d have to!” she huffs. “You usually tell your friends if you’re seeing someone new, let alone living with them!”

“You do, maybe. Emily and I don’t,” he says.

Emily herself shrugs. “Good point. Fair enough, Reid.”

“Besides, we’re not living together,” he continues, “We’re quarantining together.”

“Right, because that’s such a big difference,” JJ teases. He glares at her in return.

Rossi returns to his desk before Penelope can start bombarding Spencer with questions. But there’s no reprieve for him—the man takes one look around and knows something’s up. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks.

“We just found out pretty boy has a partner,” Morgan sing-songs before Spencer can say anything.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn’t tell any of us!” Garcia adds.

Spencer groans again and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t say anything,” he mutters.

A knocking sound draws his attention away from the call. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You okay?” you ask. “I just heard you groan.”

Spencer mutes his mic again and then leans over so he’s out of the camera’s frame. “They found out,” he sighs.

“Found out what?”

“Found out about... you.”

Realization crosses your face. “They saw me kissing you better?”

“Yeah. I forgot the camera was still on,” he says sheepishly.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” You make your way over to him and take the ice off his knee. “It’s been twenty minutes, by the way.”

“Thanks. So, um...” He picks up the fidget toy you bought him when he was going stir-crazy in the hospital and starts messing with it. “What do you wanna do about this?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” you reply immediately.

“Okay, good answer,” he says. “But I actually want to know how you feel about this.”

“Well, I’m fine with meeting them, even if it’s just over Zoom. But if you’d rather wait, I’m fine with that, too. Really,” you add when he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well.” Spencer looks back at the screen. Hotch has returned now, and even though he can’t hear anything, it’s clear they’re all waiting on him. Best to just do this now, he thinks, otherwise I’ll be hearing about it all day. “How would you feel about meeting them right now?”

You blink. “Um, okay. So long as you don’t mind me looking like I was up all night, because, you know... I was.”

“You look fine,” he reassures. “Uh, just stay put for a second. Let me ask if this is okay.”

He readjusts to sit in his chair properly. He starts to put his headphones back on, but you unplug them so you can hear what’s happening.

“You ready to continue, Reid?” Hotch asks. It’s business as usual with him—if he was told what happened earlier, Spencer can’t tell.

“Well, actually,” he starts, and nervousness bubbles up in his chest. He glances up and you give him a reassuring smile. “Actually, I was wondering if I could introduce you guys to someone first?”

Garcia squeals. “Ooh, sir, please say yes!”

“Just keep it quick,” Hotch says. He didn’t even hesitate—they totally told him.

Spencer takes a deep breath, then gestures for you to come over. You seem a little nervous as well, but you handle it well, walking around the desk and into the frame. “Oh, we should have gotten you something to sit on,” he laments when you lean over the back of his chair.

“It’s fine.” You drape your arms around his shoulders and adjust so your head is on the same level as his. It’s silent for a moment, then you say, “Well, introduce me, silly.”

“Oh!” He clears his throat, trying to ignore the heat he feels in his cheeks. “Um, this is (Y/N). My... my partner.”

The call explodes with greetings, everyone talking over each other. “Slow down, slow down,” Spencer pleads. This is all overwhelming enough—he doesn’t need any excess stimuli.

Once it settles, everyone takes their turn introducing themselves (you already know who they all are, though, as he’s told you so much about them). Then you field a few questions—what you do for work, how you met, what your favorite food is (that was Rossi—Spencer suspects that he wants to know for the first dinner party he can hold after quarantine is over).

It’s going well. Everyone seems to like you, and you’re getting by just fine. Until Garcia asks her question, that is.

“So, (Y/N), how long has boy wonder been keeping you a secret from us?”

Both of you tense. “Uh, you know what, I’ll let him answer that,” you say quickly. “It’s just about time for me to go to bed.”

“Wha—no. No, it’s not. It’s just barley past nine,” Spencer protests.

“Yeah, I’m really tired. I’m gonna try and get some extra sleep today.” You give a little wave. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers desperately. “Not with that question.”

You feign a yawn. “Sorry, I’m just too tired.”

He watches you go back to the bedroom with a pout.

“Well?” Garcia insists when he looks back at her.

Spencer cringes and preemptively lowers his computer volume.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

[twistedtummies2]

The Mad Doctor of Night Raven (Commission)

Another commission; this is from the same person who created Tock Crockwork and Caelyum in past stories. This time, we introduce another OC of theirs: Xavier Madoc, based on The Mad Doctor from Epic Mickey. This is also my first time properly writing for Idia and Ortho! :D

--------------------------------------------

“You sure this is everything you need, me hearties?”

“Nya! It better be! Some of this is heavy!” You smirked as you adjusted the box of electronic equipment in your arms. You checked on your companions, who were carrying similar boxes. To your right strolled Grim, the fire-eared, trident-tailed, cat-like imp. He was carrying a very small box - fitting for his size - while yours was more medium sized. A box matching the size of yours was in the arms of your more human comrade: a tall, slender young man with long, fuschia-colored dreadlocks, dressed all in brown. “Thanks for the help, Cael,” you said to him gratefully. Caelyum De Macabre shrugged cheerily. “Don’t mention it!” he chuckled. “For one thing, helping you get this stuff was part of my job at the Mystery Shop. Sam prides himself on having everything; if I couldn’t find something like all this, he might dock my pay.” “Would he?” you blinked. “Probably not, but he MIGHT,” huffed Cael. “And as for carrying some of this…” His smile became more bashful. “...I owe you both. If it weren’t for you all...I might not have been able to reconcile with Mia.” “How is she, by the way?” you asked, tilting your head, then smirked teasingly. “Have you proposed yet?” “Well...um...yes and no?” chuckled Cael, pausing to flick a stray dreadlock out of his face before continuing. “We had a talk about that, actually, and...we decided it would be best to wait to get married till after I finished school.” “Well, as soon as you have your wedding, make sure you guys send me and Grim an invite!” Cael nodded to say he would, then both of you paused as you heard a sort of growly groan come from Grim. “Having trouble, Little Monster?” Cael asked, tilting his own head this time. “I wish people would stop calling me that,” grumbled the imp, and continued to march onward, tail flicking angrily behind him as the blue flames in his ears crackled faintly. “I’ve got it. The Great Grim won’t be defeated by a box!” He paused, blinked, then mumbled: “That’s something I didn’t think I’d say today…” Both yourself and Caelyum snickered.

“Why’d the otaku guy ask for all this, anyway?” Cael asked as the three of you continued on. “It’s for the science expo!” Grim said. “Science expo?” frowned Caelyum. “Idia’s final exam,” you nodded, and explained: “Crowley is holding a science expo here in a couple of weeks, and Idia has to create something for it for one of his classes.” “Well...cool, but why are YOU guys getting it?” “Because the thought of leaving his room multiple times to take multiple trips nearly made Idia have a heart attack,” you answered, dryly. Cael blinked...then sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “From what little I’ve seen of Shroud, that sounds about right.” “I hope he appreciates the help,” huffed Grim, and bounced the box of equipment in his little arms as he continued to march forward, moving ahead of you both. “It’s not easy hauling all this from the Mystery Shop all the way Igni-YIPE!” Grim let out a shrill yelp, and fell back onto his bunce; he’d bumped into something, which hit the floor with a crash. The box full of equipment fell to the ground. Yourself and Cael quickly but carefully put down your own boxes and hurried to gather the fallen items and inspect them swiftly, while Grim growled and rubbed his sore haunches. “Nothing’s damaged,” Cael sighed with relief. “Are you alright, Grim?” you asked. “No,” pouted Grim. “My dignity is wounded, and it’s hard keeping it intact as it is.” You smirked affectionately. “Oh my gosh!” exclaimed a new voice. “Are you okay?!” The three of you looked up to see a new figure rushing towards you all. The figure was a young man, dressed in the black-and-blue, informal, leather-jacket-clad dorm costume of Ignihyde. His skin was pale, and he had moppish hair, which had been dyed mint green with blue tips. His eyes were heterochromatic, and similarly colored: one was emerald, the other cobalt. He was somewhat gangly in build, yet handsome in features. “Nya...I’m not hurt, if that’s what you mean,” Grim muttered out, stumbling back onto his hindpaws and dusting off his fur. “I wasn’t talking to you!” the young man snapped, catching Grim off-guard...then knelt down to what Grim had bumped into. “Abe! Abe, are you okay?” The figured Grim had bumped into, you soon realized, was a robot. It was dressed like a porter, and - in contrast to the synthetic skin and almost fully human appearance of Ortho Shroud - had a decidedly mechanical, industrial look: all metal plates and gear-twisting joints. Its face was mask-like, with two yellow lamps for eyes. The robot shook its head with a whirring noise, as if to clear it, then the mute bot - it had no mouth - nodded to the young Ignihyde student. The mint-eyed boy sighed with relief, and smiled at the bot as if it were an old friend, patting its shoulder. Then, he glared at Grim almost childishly. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?!” the lad snapped. “Me?!” snapped Grim, stomping one foot angrily, ear-fire flaring up. “Your stupid robot was the one who bumped into me!” The green-and-blue-haired youth gasped, looking deeply offended, and hugged Abe close. “Don’t listen to the mean little raccoon, Abe,” he crooned to the bot, stroking the back of its head like it was his child. “You’re perfect just the way you are.” “I AM NOT A RACCOON!” screamed Grim. “I don’t even LOOK like one; why does everyone keep calling me that?!” The student from Ignihyde was too busy fawning over his robot like it was a spoiled child to answer. The robot squirmed, its yellow eyes flickering; you got the feeling that if a machine had the power to blush, Abe would have been doing so from all the attention. Grim pouted and grumbled while yourself and Caelyum stepped closer to address the newcomer, who helped the robot to its feet. The machine called Abe clattered and clanked a bit as the young man pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket and began to check over the mechanical wonder’s form. “Buddy, I keep telling you, you have to make sure to look both ways,” whispered the young scientist. “Maybe some of your circuits need rewiring; it’s like your memory bank has a hole or two in it somewhere. Tch. My fault for using-” “Excuse me,” you spoke up. “Who are you?” The Ignihyde student looked to you...then smiled. “Oh, hey there!” he said, waving with the hand that held the screwdriver. “Name’s Xavier. Xavier Madoc, if you, ah, wanna get all formal and stuff, heh. I’m a, uh, first year here in the dorm. I was just taking my buddy Abe here for a tour around the campus!” He patted his robot’s back; Abe stumbled forward, and rubbed his arm, looking a little nervous as he nodded to you in greeting. Sensing the AI’s anxiety, you gave a disarming smile of your own and bowed your head in return. This seemed to make Abe perk up a bit. “Nice to meet you both,” you said. “Speak for yourself,” mumbled Grim. “Hey, not Abe’s fault you’re an imperfect specimen of biology,” frowned Xavier. Before either yourself or Grim could point out Abe was clearly not a perfect machine, either, Xavier’s eyes lit up with recognition as he noticed the other member of the party. “Oh, it’s you again! Kale, yeah?” “Cael,” De Macabre corrected, with a mild smile. “Is this your presentation for the science expo?” “Pffft! Oh-ho, yeah, like...c’mon. Making artificial life? That’s, like, SO twenty years ago,” Xavier snorted. “Nope! I’ve got somethin’ a whole lot bigger in mind! It’s gonna REALLY put me on the map!” “After how much all those parts cost you, I should hope so,” mumbled Caelyum. “Hold on, back up,” you said, giving a  “time out” gesture. “The two of you know each other?” “Only peripherally,” admitted the shopkeeper’s aid. “Just like you guys, I helped Xavier pick out some items for his project.”

“Cool,” you commented. “They work perfectly, by the way!” Xavier butted in, and then giddlily clapped his hands. “Ohhhh, this is gonna Rock. The. World. Like, if there was a world, and my new invention could hold it, it would just…” He made explosive noises as he mimed shaking something in his hands, then puffed them out with a long, whining “Aaaaaah!” noise. “...That would be it,” he declared, grinning from ear to ear. “Nothing is gonna top this one, nothing!” “Well, you seem pretty confident,” you chuckled. “Trust me, if there’s one thing I know...well, actually, I know, like, a lot of things, I guess?” Xavier frowned, turning his eyes heavenward as he counted on his fingers. “I mean, there’s, like mechanical engineering, alchemy, anatomy, welding, potion making, computer science...basically, yeah, if there’s one thing I can do, it’s how to make something awesome. With SCIENCE!” The last word was spoken with great melodrama, complete with Xavier lifting one hand theatrically, throwing his head back with pride and puffing out his chest arrogantly. Abe seemed to roll his eyes at his creator’s hammy attitude. “I wouldn’t get too cocky,” Cael said warningly, as he stepped back to lift his box up off the floor. “Yeah! Especially with all this to contend with,” Grim grinned a little smugly, picking his own box back up as well. Xavier frowned as he saw you lift the third and final box, now looking both curious and perhaps borderline suspicious. “Yeah, about that...what’s with all the toys?” he said, pointing to the box with a slight frown, as if the items within were beneath him. “Is there, like, a kid entering the expo, or are you cleaning out trash…?” You blinked, and the three in your party shared looks. The strange part about that comment was it didn’t sound like it was meant to be an insult. Xavier seriously seemed to see the tools in the boxes as inferior. “These are for Idia. Your dorm head,” you said, slowly. Xavier’s eyes widened, and so did his smile. “Oh! Oh, COOL! So, wait, holdupholdupholdup...you’re saying Idia Shroud - THE Idia Shroud - is gonna come outta his hideout and tussle with the muscle at the contest?” “That’s...one way of putting it, yep,” you answered unsteadily. “That’s TERRIFIC!” Xavier exclaimed, clapping his hands and bouncing on his heels with giddy delight. Abe tilted his head with curiosity, and Xavier, noticing the robot’s reaction, decided to explain. “When I beat Idia, that’ll be, like, the best thing ever!” Madoc told Abe. “I can finally show just how perfect and brilliant my machines are! Abe, it’s gonna be DA BOMB! HA HA HA!” Xavier cackled with almost unhinged delight, pumping his fists. Abe turned his lamplike eyes towards your group. You see what I have to put up with? he seemed to be saying. “Be wary,” Caelyum warned. “You shouldn’t underestimate Shroud: he’s dorm head for a reason. He literally made his own brother, you know; have you made anything that impressive before?” Xavier looked to Cael...and his smile fell. A sudden coldness came over his expression, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you saying my machines aren’t impressive?” he whispered, his voice lowering an octave. “No, I don’t think he’s saying that at all!” you interrupted, sensing the tension and wanting to cut it short. “Just...um...Idia’s not half bad either, you know.” Xavier smirked, but his eyes were still glittering like emerald daggers. “Hmph. He may be dorm head, but he’s got nothing on The Madoc,” Xavier boasted, jabbing a thumb at himself...then, his eyes brightened, and his whole being became exuberant once more. “Hey! Hey, you should totally come see the expo! All of you! That’d be great!” “Then we could see you win, huh?” you smirked right back, already sensing his thoughts. “Well...or see the others lose,” he said with a sinister laugh. “Your choice of how you wanna word it.” “Nya...that seems a jerky way to put it,” grumbled Grim, but no one paid attention to him. “Well, Crowley is probably gonna ask us to do something there anyways, with his track record,” you muttered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw you there.” “Perfect,” smiled Xavier, then cocked his head innocently. “Uh...right, I, ah...yeah, just realized I never got who YOU were?” You gave your name quickly. “I’m Prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm,” you explained, and pointed to Grim. “This is Grim.” “Aww...nice that your dorm allows pets.” Grim looked like he was pondering the many ways he coil make life excruciatingly painful for Xavier Madoc. “Why do you say that?” Cael spoke up. “Does yours not?” “Honestly, I dunno,” shrugged Xavier. “I’ve never had a pet. Never wanted one, really.” He tapped Abe on the chest; the robot - who had been staring off at something on a wall - jumped at the clanking on his abdomen. “I just deal with machines,” he said. “Pets are so...fussy. And unpredictable. You have to feed them and clean up their mess...my machines are clean and easy to handle. A machine can’t leave you or get sick; if there’s a malfunction, just a touch of oil or a twist of a wrench, and it’s all fixed, usually! And, hey, if something breaks, I can just rebuild it!” Abe looked hurt. “Oh, not you, buddy,” Xavier chuckled, patting his metal shoulder. “You’re irreplaceable.” Abe seemed to smile, but since he had no visible lips, you couldn’t tell. “I think it’s a good thing to have pets,” Caelyum argued, then gave a joking smile. “Maybe you should buy a lab rat or something?” Xavier shuddered. “Right, and be around animals AND people? Thanks, I think I’ll pass.” “And you were teasing Idia about leaving HIS hideout?” Grim taunted. Xavier glared at him. “I’m not scared of people,” he protested. “I just...don’t like crowds. I don’t like most people, either.” “You seem to be chatting easily with us,” you observed. “Well...yeah, but…no offense, I’m not gonna be inviting you to my lab anytime soon,” Xavier smiled weakly. “I like my privacy, that’s all.” You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that. “Speaking of,” Xavier went on, without waiting to see if you WOULD respond, “I gotta get back to work: I’ve gotta work out some clibrations for my new invention, then maybe see about modifying Abe’s storage banks, not to mention figuring out a few blueprints for future projects…” “Jeeze, don’t you do anything fun?!” Grim exclaimed. “Science IS fun,” huffed Xavier, sticking his nose up snootily. “And I don’t see a reason to stand here and be insulted by a furball.” While Grim sputtered, offended, Xavier looked to Abe. “Come, my friend!” he called out, theatrically. “Back to the laboratory!” Abe saluted, and he and his creator turned on their heels before marching away. The metallic footsteps of the robot echoed down the hall for several seconds after they vanished from sight. “I don’t like him,” grumbled Grim. “We gathered that,” Caelyum smirked. “He seems...eccentric,” you murmured, then shook your head. “Then again, I guess it’d be hard to find anybody at this school who ISN’T at least a little bit odd.” “He seemed like a good sort to me,” Cael nodded, then frowned thoughtfully. “Perhaps a bit too sure of himself for his own good...not to mention a little too antisocial…” “Hey, I’ve dealt with Idia; trust me, that was nothing on the antisocial level,” you scoffed, as the three of you went down a side passage and headed off to find Idia’s room. “That’s not quite what I mean,” mumbled Caelyum, and then went on, aloud. “You know the donation jar at the Mystery Shop?” “You mean for the Medical Center?” “Yeah,” Cael said. “He didn’t donate anything. That’s not surprising, I guess, and it wouldn’t have really bothered me at all - donations from customers are hit and miss, always - but when I asked him if he’d like to make a donation, his response was…unsettling.” “Nya?” Grim meowed, one ear flicking with curiosity. “And what did he say?” “He said, ‘Sorry, but there are too many people out there to worry about the sick ones.’” You blinked...then scowled. “Okay...that’s...not very nice...and a little confusing,” you murmured. “Yeah,” Caelyum said. “The weirdest part was he then started rambling about the machines in the Medical Center. He seemed more interested in how the machines worked than what they actually did to help people.” You glanced back over your shoulder. Now, you were starting to feel worried. A person that strange, that obsessed, and that sure of his own superiority… ...Suddenly, Xavier’s eccentricities were starting to take a more sinister undercurrent. “Let’s just forget about him,” snorted Grim. “Come on, the scaredy-cat’s waiting!” “Right,” you muttered, then shook your head to clear it, and picked up the pace, this time taking the lead yourself. “Come on, you two...if Idia’s going to have any shot at that science expo - Madoc or no Madoc - he’ll need these parts.’

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Several weeks later, the science expo at Night Raven College commenced. Various students from across the campus were readying their inventions and projects. You had been right, of course: the Headmaster had, indeed, demanded that you attend the expo. As custodians, your job was to help those preparing their experiments, and to clean up any messes that might come up. By some miracle, not a drop of an acid, nor a bit of any base, had yet to stain the floor, and nothing solid had broken. Of course, that could change at any time, so yourself and Grim wandered around the expo, peeking at different experiments on display. A lot of what was being shown you didn’t fully understand - science had never been your strongest point - and, truth be told, the majority of the students involved were not ones you knew personally. There were, however, two familiar faces you were hoping to see. “Nya...where are the Shrouds?” meowed Grim, flicking his tail from side to side and blinking his big blue-green eyes up at you. “Shouldn’t Idia and Ortho have set up their panel already.” “Yeah, they should have,” you nodded. “Maybe they just didn’t get things ready in time?” “Not the way I heard it.” The voice caught your attention, and both yourself and Grim smiled as you saw who it belonged to. “Oh, Cael! So you came here after all, huh?” you grinned. “Yup. I actually invited Mia, but she couldn’t make it; some kind of royal business,” the shopkeeper’s assistant shrugged. “I wanted to see how the items Sam and I sold were being used, so I asked him if I could get out of my job at the Mystery Shop a few hours early to check things out.” “I see. I’m sorry to hear Mia couldn’t make it,” you said, sympathetically. Caelyum smiled gently. “For years I lived without her,” he said, faintly. “Even if we’re not together, my heart will always be with her...and hers with mine…” “Ugh...gag me,” sneered Grim. “You don’t have to make it sound so dramatic, you know; you’re a bigger ham than the guys at Pomefiore!” Cael blushed and you giggled. “Anyway...Ortho told me he and Idia had finished their work,” Caelyum informed you and the imp. “They actually have it stored here at the hall, since they felt that would make it easier for transport and setup.” “That’s strange, then. Even Idia usually isn’t late for these things,” you murmured, looking a little concerned. “He’s not?” Cael asked, curiously. “I would have thought, with his reputation, he would try his hardest to avoid them.” “Well, Idia usually has Ortho attend the Dorm Leader Meetings - and other events - and then uses his computer to do a voice stream from his room,” you explained. “That way he can make his presentations without having to face the crowds directly. There should be no reason for at least one of them to not be-” “Excuse me! Pardon me! Coming through! Thank you!” “Idon’twannagoIdon’twannagoIdon’twannagohelphelphelp…!” Grim turned around fast at the sound of the familiar voices, and tugged on your leg, pointing in the direction they were coming from. Both you and Cael quickly looked in the direction he had indicated, and saw the crowd of students and helpful staff members parting… ...Revealing the form of Ortho Shroud, who all but skipped merrily along through the campus convention hall where the expo was being held, dragging along what looked like an enormous black-and-blue bag. You quickly realized the “enormous bag” was really Idia Shroud, who was lying belly down on the floor. His dead-white hands were holding up his hoodie in a steel-knuckled grip, while his glowing blue, ethereal hair spilled across the floor from under it. Ortho noticed your group soon enough; his cybernetic eyes widened, and he waved, trotting over to three of you. You looked to Caelyum, who was staring bug-eyed, stunned by the bizarre tableaux. You had to admit, it said something that, somehow, you were a lot less weirded out. “Hi ya, Prefect!” Ortho chirped in his electronic way, as he stopped a few feet away from your trio. You could see that, now at a standstill, Idia was shaking like a leaf. “Uhhhh...hi,” you greeted awkwardly. “Nya! Why are you two so late?” Grim grimaced. “And what exactly is going on?” Cael asked, sounding like he was trying not to shout that out in confusion. “Oh! Well, um, Big Brother’s thingamajig that he uses for remote conference? It, uh...kinda had a malfunction,” Ortho said, an embarrassed smile flickering behind the mask-like apparatus on his android face. “Malfunction?” the three of you repeated, looking at each other, and then back at Ortho. “Yeah,” Ortho said, and scratched the back of his head. “My brother convinced a stray cat into our room so he could give it some food...but when he tried to snuggle it, it bolted back out the window, and knocked the device off a table and onto the floor. We...didn’t have time to fix it.” A keening whine from Idia made it hard from you to determine if you should laugh or just feel sorry for the poor, anxious noble son. “Yeesh...and that’s what all this is about, huh?” “Yep!” Ortho siad, cheerily. “Big Brother still has to attend his final for the class, after all! So I made sure to get him here with enough time to set up shop!” Ortho’s chest was puffed out with pride; you swore, if he had a tail, it would have been wagging like a puppy’s. You couldn’t help but smile, even as Grim and Cael both rolled their eyes, crossing their arms over their chests. “Well, good job, Ortho; that’s being responsible!” you said, and playfully patted the boy-like droid’s head; you would never understand how that fire-like hair DIDN’T burn your fingers, but no matter. “I’m sure once he’s done having a panic attack, he’ll be proud of you.” Ortho giggled happily and his eyes crinkled with another sweet “smile.” You now turned your attention to Idia, as Ortho released his leg. The instant, Idia felt his leg being let go, he stopped shaking and froze. Slowly, he rolled onto his back...and huge amber yellow eyes, glowing like warning lights, peered out from behind the hoodie. Idia took one look at the crowd in the hall, and the faces looking at him...and squeaked like a mouse before hiding his face. He clumsily tried to get to his feet and run away...only to let out a shrill, strangled sound as he tripped on his own feet and fell over. Ortho let out an “eep!” and rushed to catch hold of his brother before the computer genius could eat tile. “Nervous, Idia?” Grim drawled with a smirk. Cael couldn’t help but chuckle as Idia whimpered with terror, quivering once again. “P-People,” came Idia’s voice behind his hood. “Too...t-too many people...please...t-take me back to my room...I-I’d rather watch the English dubbing of Ghost Stories than do this…heck, I’d rather play Iron Gear: Survive than be here...!” “Not till you finish your presentation,” Ortho said. “Come on, Big Brother! Show everybody how cool you are!” “I don’t wanna be cool!” Idia nearly sobbed. “Please, not this! Not…” He gulped and nearly choked on the next words. “...T-Talking to people...having them judge me...no, no, not that…” Idia shook his head behind his hood stubbornly. Ortho looked at you helplessly. You sighed and knelt down to Idia’s level. You cautiously reached out to the trembling socially anxious scientist, who whimpered as he felt your hands brush against him, and curled up tightly, as if afraid of being struck. With a sympathetic smile, you carefully parted his hands and pulled down his hood. His face now fully exposed to the outside world, Idia blinked his giant yellow eyes at you with real fear. His dark lips were trembling, and you swore those golden irises were getting a little misty as he looked on the verge of crying with fear. You could hear his shark-like teeth chattering as if winter had come early that year. “Idia,” you said softly, “It’s got to be done, and you’re the only one who can do it.” “Why is that?” peeped Idia, childishly. “Because it’s YOUR creation, Idia,” you said, with an encouraging smile. “No one knows it better than you do.” “Yeah! It’s not like we can talk about all this science-y junk!” Grim broke in...then subsided when Idia reacted by looking hurt, while Ortho gave him an almost murderous glare. “The presentation only has to be a few minutes long,” Cael thought to put in helpfully. “A few SECONDS is too much!” Idia said, and hurried to try and hide his face again...but you prevented it with your hands as you carefully held his wrists. His black-nailed fingers twitched with mortal dread as he looked into your earnest, honest eyes. “Idia, does Ortho know anything about the project?” “Well...n-no, not enough to tell them everything,” Idia admitted, squirming uncomfortably and almost guiltily, like a child admitting he’d stolen five cookies from the cookie jar. “Is there anybody else who could give the presentation on your behalf, with the knowledge you have?” Idia blinked. Those last few words seemed to have stirred something in his breast, and he looked at you anew, blinking a few times, as realization dawned on his pale face. “...No...I guess not,” he said, softly. “Well then?” you urged, tenderly, raising one eyebrow. Idia bit his lip; his sharp teeth almost drew blood. (Almost.) “...But...b-but I’m scared,” he cheeped out, like a wounded baby bird. It took all your willpower not to kiss his forehead. How could a denizen of the Underworld be so friggin’ cute?! “It’s okay to be scared,” you assured him. “Being brave means doing things even though you are scared.” “No, being brave means enduring unpleasant situations without showing fear,” Idia droned. “That’s literally in the dictionary.” “And how brave do you think the Lord of the Underworld was when he fought the Mighty Hercules?” “A lot braver than I am!” Idia replied, without missing a beat, and promptly hid his face again, rolling onto his side, like a child refusing to get out of bed. “I’m not doing it!” You bit your own lip, and looked around awkwardly. A LOT of people were staring, and that was only going to make Idia feel worse. You had to pacify this quickly. “Mr. Shroud.” You blinked up at Caelyum, who knelt down beside you with a reassuring smile of his own. Idia peeked out of his hoodie timidly. “Wh-What?” “Once this is over, I’d be happy to give you a free Jumbo Jar of Jelly Babies from the Mystery Shop as a reward for your efforts,” Cael offered. Idia’s eyes went wide at the mention of so much candy. “...F-Free?” “Yes,” Cael nodded. “I’ll just put my own money back into the shop to make up the expense. BUT,” he said, in a stern, almost parental tone, holding up one finger, “You have to at least try to make your presentation first.” Idia licked his lips, but he still looked uncertain. “...What if they don’t like my creation, though?” he whispered, shivering a little. “They’ll love it, Big Brother!” Ortho declared. “It’s the best thing ever! You’re so smart, it has to be!” “And all three of us,” you thought to add, “Will be there. Myself, Cael, and Grim: we’ll be watching and cheering you on.” Idia squirmed again. “...The watching part I could live without, but…” Finally, at long last...he gave a scared, small, hesitant smile. “...The cheering part...I-I’d appreciate it,” he chuckled, and seemed to perk up a bit. “And, h-hey...I get lots of candy out of it, yeah?” “Sugary gummies galore,” winked Caelyum. Idia paused once more, and took a deep breath, before finally relenting: “F-Fine...I’ll...I’ll try not to screw up...” “That’s the spirit, Brother!” cheered Ortho joyously, and helped Idia to his feet. Idia gave a nervous nod to his brother, then gave you a shy wave and a smile that showed just a hint of his pointed teeth, as the young android led him away to another part of the hall. Both yourself and Caelyum stood to your full heights and sighed with relief. “Sam’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled. “He gets pretty strict with inventory; I think it’s the con-man in him…” “Just don’t make a deal with him, and you’ll be fine,” Grim giggled. “You know, maybe another incentive we could have used was a chance for ‘snuggle time’ with a certain ‘Little Monster,’” you said, airily, giving Grim a teasing smile. The cat-like little beast blushed bright red, and his ears flared up. “Th-That’s not funny, Minion!” he snapped, huffishly, while Cael chortled merrily at the thought. Just then, another laugh was heard from the far end of the hall; you recognized it instantly. “Xavier?” you murmured, remembering the strange scientist from a few weeks ago. “Sounds like the judging has begun,” Caelyum remarked, as he noticed a group of official-looking gentlemen, along with some students, gathered in the area. “Nya! Let’s go see what’s up!” Grim suggested, and loped off on all fours to do exactly that. You and Caelyum shrugged to each other, and followed at a casual pace. You soon came to the panel hosted by Xavier. To one side stood Abe, who had traded out his porter’s costume for a buttoned-up labcoat...although, amusing, he still wore his porter’s cap upon his head. The mechanical man’s mask-like, expressionless, featureless face somehow still managed to look rather bashful as he waved shyly at the mob that now surrounded the corner spot. It was Xavier Madoc himself, however, who most arrested your attention. He stood in front of a table, over which was draped a light gray table cloth...and on top of that was a large, oddly-shaped...something. No one could tell what, exactly, for a second tablecloth - also colored gray - was covering it. Xavier was dressed in a long labcoat, which stretched past his knees and halfway down his shins. Underneath this, the eccentric inventor wore blue jeans and white tennis shoes; the former was held up by a peculiar teal-colored belt. A light gray midriff shirt, with black pinstripes, was perhaps the weirdest part of his ensemble; emblazoned on his chest, upon this shirt, was an unusual design: a black-stenciled image that, on one side, resembled a skull, while the other side resembled a clockwork gear, the two parts meshed together unsettlingly. With his wild, wide grin and the way he bowed to the crowd - more like a circus ringmaster than a distinguished scholar - one couldn’t help but find him a most uncommon figure. “Ladies and gentlemen...and undecided!” he greeted, and laughed at his own joke (no one else did, but he didn’t seem to care) before continuing: “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Xavier Madoc! Also, allow me to introduce my trusty counterpart, Abe! His name stands for Assistant Bot Extraordinaire. Yeah, ha, not the most, uh...SCIENTIFIC name I could’ve come up with, but what can I say? I liked the acronym.” Abe rolled his electronic eyes and nodded to the judges, who nodded back before refocusing on Xavier, who rubbed his eyes as he moved to the opposite side of the table from Abe. “Friends and colleagues of science, let us talk about emotions, shall we?” he began, still speaking in an almost carnival-esque tone of voice, which made Cael roll his eyes and scoff. “He sounds almost like Sam at times,” the Swamplands native mumbled. You and Grim smiled at him, then looked back at Xavier as he began his spiel. “Emotions are a fickle thing,” Madoc said, lifting a finger in emphasis. “Emotions can be our strength, but they can also be our weakness. What a beautiful world it would be if we could all be logical, without those...pesky things like jealousy or greed to spur us in the wrong direction. Even here, in a school of black magic, love is just as revered as vengeance. There is a reason, of course...two, really. One, I would argue, is human frailty. We cannot help ourselves; we are, very tragically, made to be feeling creatures more often than thinkers. But another is perhaps more practical, in this particular world...and that, my friends, is that we need it as fuel. Magic is a powerful entity in our world, arguably more than science, and while it is not uncommon for the two to mesh together, no one has found a way to properly harness the power of the human spirit that allows our magic to work. Well, my friends...I, Xavier Madoc, have found the solution to that quandary!” So saying, Xavier through out both arms in a grand gesture and sang out: “TA-DA!” Silence. Nothing happened. The judges and the crowd just stared at Xavier awkwardly. Xavier blinked, then looked to Abe, who was looking around the room blithely. He frowned and whistled, getting the droid’s attention. “Abe,” he said, and pointed to the table. “You’ll want to take off the tablecloth on that cue, ‘kay, buddy?” Abe nodded, and scooted closer to the table. “Thank you,” whispered Xavier, and tried again, louder: “TA-DA!” A horrible grinding sound was heard as Abe grabbed the tablecloth on the table, nearly knocking over the item under the second veil as he gave it a tug. Xavier yelped for him to stop, and swooped in just in time to right the object before it could crash to the floor. You forced yourself not to laugh; Grim and Caelyum were not inclined to do the same. “So much for ‘the perfection of machines,’ huh?” the fluffy little imp whispered. “Hush!” you scolded...but internally, you conceded he had a point. Abe shuffled sheepishly as Xavier brushed his mint-and-cerulean bangs from his face and gave him an impatient, toothy smile. The dark doctor-in-training could hear some of the crowd snickering, and he hated it. “Not THAT tablecloth,” he said through clenched teeth, and pointed to the device under the covering. “THIS tablecloth. Got it?” Abe nodded, looking like a scared child. “Thank you,” Xavier sighed in frustration, and took a deep breath before trying one more time: “TA-DA!” Finally, Abe swirled off the right tablecloth with great panache. Underneath it was unveiled a strange machine, about the size and shape of the average backpack. Most of it was covered in white leather, but several mechanical apparatuses were jutting from it. Among these were two large copper tanks on either side, several steel cylinders, and two long tubes of tough, transparent rubber, which led from one of the sets of caps into the copper tanks. Two beige-colored leather straps were attached, and it was into these straps that Xavier slipped his long, lanky arms, putting the strange pack on his back. “Introducing my newest invention!” Xavier declared with a beaming, proud smile. “The Emotion Reservoir Power Converter - or ERPC, if you want to shorten it. We can’t all have cool acronyms like Abe, heh...ANYWAY! I would argue that negative emotions have more importance here than positive ones: Blot is the result of an overabundance of black magic use, and much of dark wizardry involves the channeling of negative power. The ERPC can drain small doses of negative emotional energy directly from the subject, and then convert them into magical energy, without the user suffering a state of Overblot!” “Can you give us a demonstration?” one of the judges spoke up. He was a portly man, with spectacles perched upon a crooked nose. “I hoped you would ask that, Dr. Alcott,” Xavier answered with a Devil-May-Care wink, then looked to his robotic companion. “Abe? The book, please!” The robot nodded, and reached into the folds of his labcoat, before handing his creator a small book with a bright pink cover. On it was the title “Princess Pony and the Island of Fluffy Squirrels,” by Lorina Faustus. Xavier blushed bright red and swatted at Abe, who hurriedly put the book away while giggles and chuckles once again came from the audience. “I told you not to…! THE OTHER BOOK, ABE!” Abe quickly fished a second book out: this was a black leatherbound volume with the image of a galaxy festooning its front. Xavier took it and sighed, shaking his head before flipping to a bookmarked page. “Here,” he declared, pointing at the page in question and tapping it with a finger, “Is an excellent example. Keep in mind, gentlemen and ladies, I am but a first year here. The spell I’m about to perform is typically a fourth-year level spell, and I have taken no classes on the subject. Should you wish for confirmation of this later, simply consult the members of the staff on standby today.” Xavier thus cleared his throat, and lifted one hand, extending his thin fingers towards the ceiling before mumbling the incantation in the book. He closed his eyes, furrowing his brow and gritting his teeth, trying to concentrate...his fingers clawed as he flexed them, arm trembling as he forced all the power he could muster into his spellcasting… A dim, murky cloud of purple - shapeless and formless - hovered over the heads of the judges. Specks and blotches of many hues, like splatters of watercolor on a half-burned piece of parchment, appeared and disappeared...before, finally, Xavier gasped and relinquished the attempt, and the colors all faded, the cloud dissipating in an instant. “Haaaaah...a-as you can...ahem...as you can s-see,” Xavier gasped out, wiping some sweat from his brow. “That was hardly an easy task, gentleman...and hardly a good demonstration of that spell. Thankfully, my new invention can allow me to ‘upgrade’ my abilities, through use of my Unique Magic…” He lifted his left hand, the one that he had first used to try and enact the spell, and flexed his fingers as he recited his magic words. “...Paint & Thinner.” There was a flash of turquoise-toned light...and suddenly, Xavier’s left arm had undergone a startling and somewhat disquieting transformation. The fingers and thumb of his left hand had turned into a set of what looked like syringes, the needles resembling claws, his whole hand now seemingly mechanical and metallic. “My power,” Xavier smirked, flexing his taloned hand, “Allows me to extract emotion from a person. This is the ‘Thinner’ part of the equation. The emotional energy is converted to a liquid state. I can, of course, also return the emotions to their original owners, in a gaseous state: this is the ‘Paint’ aspect. Now, I know this is, uh...you know...a little freaky, but...I’m going to need a volunteer.” He handed the spellbook to Abe and added: “My assistant doesn’t exactly have veins to target.” Naturally, at first, nobody stepped forward. Xavier’s expression shifted, and he started to seem crestfallen, perhaps even a little scared… You sighed, shook your head, and stepped closer, raising one arm. “I volunteer,” you said. Xavier grinned, and nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Prefect,” he said, and addressed the audience as - with the clinical care of a master surgeon - he pulled you closer by one arm. “Everyone watch closely, please.” He then looked back at you; his voice was the professional, bland calm of a medical expert as he said the timeless refrain: “This won’t hurt a bit.” The syringes were inserted into your arm. You closed your eyes, trying to relax, remembering all the injections you had gotten. You did not feel the slightest prick as they did their work, and soon, bright green fluid - the color of some toxic acid - was drawn from your very body into the syringe fingers. “Sit down,” whispered Xavier, in the same clinical, almost cold tone, easing you into a nearby chair which Abe had prepared. His actions seemed more dismissive than in the vein of proper bedside manners. You sank into it gratefully. You felt...lightheaded. Cold. Almost ill. You didn’t know it at the time, but before the congregation of onlookers, your skin had suddenly turned very, very pale, and your hair and eyes had lost all color. Even your clothes seemed to have become more faded, causing you to look like a monochrome character from a black-and-white movie. You hoped the sickening, hollow sensation inside you wouldn’t last long as Xavier turned to the audience again. “Generally speaking, draining the emotion from the victim will leave them feeling weakened; enough power drawn can lead to them being rendered unconscious. My machine allows me to withdraw more than I would usually be able to manage in a single dose without even touching the subject, should I wish...but for safety purposes, I think we had better focus on the OUTPUT demonstration. Observe…” He closed his eyes...and suddenly, the syringes emptied, as if the power was being drawn through his arm and into his core...then, the same green fluid bubbled through the pipes, and a slosh came from the copper tanks as your emotions filled them with liquid energy. “Now,” said Xavier, and waved a hand for Abe to open the book and show him the page, as his syringe hand lifted to the ceiling. “Let’s see if the emotional energy I’ve drained from my volunteer can be converted to enough magical power, via the ERPC, for the spell I attempted earlier. Remember, everybody: first year here…” Once again, Xavier lifted his hand to the ceiling...and this time, as he spoke the incantation, the purple cloud became a beautiful circle of deep indigo, revealing the boundless reaches of outer space. Splashes of color became perfect images of planets and stars, so real in appearance one swore they could touch them. In fact, one student DID try to touch one...and yelped, as the sun actually burnt their finger slightly. “Careful,” chuckled Xavier, and then flexed his fingers...and the beautiful image disappeared. He then turned to the judges and, without a word, bowed. He had rested his case. The judges seemed most impressed. Dr. Alcott and the others applauded and smiled, looking quite pleased. However, they had other presentations to attend to, and after a few more perfunctory questions, they moved on. As the judges moved on, and the crowd went with them, Xavier looked two, kneeling down to look at your face. You felt dizzy and queasy, and the look on his face indicated he could tell. He extended his fingers. “Breathe normally,” he instructed, and a faint blue mist poured from the needle like fingers...and you sighed as you felt the ill feeling go away. Steadily, the color flooded back into your being at the same time. “Oh, dear Gods...wh-what was that?” “That was what it was like to be drained of emotional energy,” Xavier said, and gave an anxious sort of smile. “Pretty icky, huh?” “You said it,” you grumbled. “That was a bold decision, Prefect,” Cael observed, as Grim nodded in agreement. Both he and the imp looked rather concerned; they had lingered behind to check on you. Abe placed a mute hand upon your shoulder. You glanced up briefly at the featureless mechanical man, then smiled weakly back at your friends. “Well, he needed someone...who else would have done it?” you reasoned, then shuddered. “I really don’t like needles though…” “Not my fault it’s how my power works,” chuckled Xavier, but obligingly lifted his hand and spoke the counter-curse: “Thinner & Paint.” Another flash of blue-green light, and his hand returned to normal. He gave it a shake, then extended it to you. “Thank you for the help,” he said, sincerely. “Gotta admit, I didn’t expect anybody to put their best foot forward for me like that…” “I’m glad I could start a new custom,” you said, and shook his hand before shakily standing up. “I still don’t feel quite ready for work though…” “Give it a couple short minutes, and it’ll wear off on its own,” Xavier said sweetly. Just then, more applause came...louder than before. The four of you looked; Xavier frowned and the rest of you perked up as you realized who the next contender was… “The Shrouds!” exclaimed Grim. “Let’s see what they are up to,” suggested Cael. “Right,” you nodded, then smiled at Xavier. “Really cool invention. I hope you win!” Xavier’s eyes widened as he looked back at you, seemingly taken aback by the compliment and well-wishes...then smiled awkwardly. “Heh...uh...th-thanks, um...enjoy the rest of the expo. I mean, no one else is gonna be as awesome, but...you know…” You just laughed, and joined your friends, giving Xavier a wave as you strolled towards the Shrouds’ panel. You never noticed how Xavier’s smile faded into a cold, almost lifeless expression behind you while your back turned away. “No one else is gonna be as awesome,” he whispered to himself, forebodingly. Unaware of the ominous moment that had passed, your gaggle descended with the rest of the onlookers to see what the Head of Ignihyde and his “Baby Brother” had in store. Said “Baby Brother” was brushing humming in a vocoded-sounding way (he WAS an android, after all) as he brushed down a machine on the table. The device was not hidden by anything, the way Xavier’s power pack had been, which meant you and all and sundry could take a peek at it. It was...difficult to describe. The shape of the thing vaguely resembled a small ice maker, colored black and gray, but with three glass tubes on the top, each filled with strange fluids in primary colors: red, yellow, and blue. While Ortho dusted it off, Idia, was standing off to one side; his knees were almost knocking together, and his fingers fiddled endlessly with the dangling pullstrings of his hoodie as he stared at the judges, brow bathed in cold sweat. “Okay, Brother-o’-mine!” cheered Ortho, and looked to Idia happily. “It’s all set.” Idia said nothing. He didn’t move. He stared straight ahead, like a statue, still focused unblinkingly on the judges. “Uh...brother?” Idia whimpered, still frozen and shaking. “BROTHER!” shouted Ortho, fire-hair flaring up and turning orange for a second as he stomped his foot in frustration. Idia yelped and jumped about a foot in the air. “IWASN’TTHINKINGABOUTHIDING!” he exclaimed in a jabbering sort of way...then blinked when he saw Ortho’s pouty expression. (How the android could pout with no visible lips was anyone’s guess.) He flushed; Idia never blushed red or pink, but his cheeks turned a sort of bluish-purple color. “C’mon!” Ortho urged, and gestured towards the group. “They’re waiting.” This did not seem to encourage Idia, who flinched and looked nervously at the impatient judges. “I...um...uh...w-well, uh...aha...er…” You frowned, glancing with concern at Grim and Caelyum; the former matched your expression, while the other mostly looked bored. This was not going well. A thought came to you, and you stepped forward slightly. Idia must have heard your approach, because his eyes quickly darted to see you, and the encouraging smile you gave. Suddenly, he seemed to relax...but only VERY slightly. Idia was the sort to fear he was BREATHING too loudly and that would get on people’s nerves, he could only be so calm. Still, it helped enough for him to clear his throat and begin talking. “Ahem...s-sorry, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, with a nervous smile, tapping his fingers together childishly. “I’m, ah...not used to this sort of...front and center kinda thing, heh...honestly, I wish I were hiding under my blankets right now...BUT! But, ah...I think the device I’ve made will at least be of interest…” So saying, Idia seemed to pluck up some courage. Your own smile widened as he placed a hand on the machine, and his stance straightened. If there was one thing that Shroud could talk about with SOME pride, it was his work. “I don’t need to tell all you that, uh...th-that the source of magic for m-many wizards and witches is their magic crystals, right? Right. So, ah...I, well...I got to thinking: the problem with the crystals is they can...well...run out. We have to mine for them, we have to dig for them, and there’s always a chance that someday...y’know...th-there might not be any left. Which would...kinda suck, ha. SO! I decided to try and create SYNTHETIC crystals…” He tapped the tubes on the top of the machine. “With these three simple potion compounds, mixed together in the right order, I can...well...do that. Using this machine.” “Would you say there are other advantages to this idea?” Dr. Alcott spoke up. “Oh, y-yes!” Idia said, starting to smile as he realized he had someone’s interest, though he seemed a bit nervous when he noticed the way the other judges scribbled some quick notes down. “Ahem...yes, sir. See, with synthetic crystals, not only do you not need to dig them up, but...well...if you have these compounds, and this machine, you can make as many as you like.” “Well, yes,” Dr. Alcott nodded, “But are they any more advantageous than natural crystals?” Idia paused, as if to think on his answer, then nodded slowly. “There is one other thing,” he said, almost shyly. (Well...there was no “almost” about it, this was Idia Shroud, but you gave him the benefit of the wiggle room anyway.) He paused before steadily elaborating: “Synthetic crystals do have a couple of weaknesses. They are not as physically strong as natural ones, for a start, the same way synthetic gems are not as strong as real jewels. You also can’t make them as large as natural crystals, because with the compounds being used, they can become unstable. But, at the average size of the average magic crystal…” He pointed to the one he wore himself, on his arm, before continuing. “...It can actually last longer than a natural crystal. It...well...um...I don’t know how to explain it, actually, but my experiments have shown that...well...you can use them for a longer period of time before worrying about Overblotting.” “Well, that’s definitely an advantage,” smiled Dr. Alcott, seemingly impressed, then turned serious as he scratched a few notes down before speaking again: “Can we see how this machine works?” “Y-Yes! Yes, of course!” nodded Idia...then tapped Ortho on the shoulder. “Little brother? Um...w-would you do the honors?” He then added in a whisper, “I’ll probably mess up…” Your smile became slightly less proud: Idia was still Idia. Ortho just giggled. “You can’t mess up turning the machine on, Big Brother!” he teased quietly, but still obeyed, pressing a button on the contraption. A loud whirring sound was heard, and the potions in the tubes bubbled and then began to lessen in volume; you could hear the sound of fluid being stirred and mixed, followed by the low humming buzz of another item either cooling or heating the stuff inside the machine… ...It only took about two minutes - during which the judges’ attention was raptly focused on the device, and several in the crowd mumbled to one another with interest - and then, with a rattle and a clatter, a teardrop-shaped, transparent, pale blue crystal dropped into a tray inside the machine. Idia opened the lid and pulled the crystal out of the tray, holding it up for everyone to see, then offered it to the judges, who inspected it closely. Finally, Dr. Alcott handed the artificial crystal back to Idia with a smile. “Fine work, young Master Shroud,” he nodded in approval. “Fine work indeed.” The other judges and the audience applauded. Idia smiled bashfully, tucking his head down and mouthing a quiet word of thanks as he hugged the crystal to his chest. Ortho, noticing the way his brother was shaking, gave him an encouraging hug as the mob and the judges - still chatting betwixt themselves - moved away. Once again, yourself and your friends stepped forward, all of you wearing matching grins. “I’m so proud of you!” you cheered, and gave Idia a hug. You felt the eldest Shroud freeze up in your embrace, and couldn’t help but smile still wider; Idia, bless his heart, still wasn’t used to much physical interaction, and you could feel him starting to twitch. You gave him a very gentle, comforting squeeze, and rubbed his back reassuringly. Only then did his arms steadily move upwards to gingerly return the hug. “Nya!” Grim called out happily, trotting over with a wide grin, purring up at the fire-haired Ignihyde head. “You did a lot better than I expected!” “An interesting invention, too,” Cael complimented. “I’m sure you’ll end up with first place!” “Oh, I-I dunno,” mumbled Idia, rubbing one arm and squirming slightly with embarrassment. “I thought Madoc had a pretty cool creation, too…” “His was neat,” nodded Grim, “But I think yours is better.” “His energy converter DID have one noticeable issue,” Cael thought to add, glancing back towards Xavier’s panel - by now, the odd scientist and his assistant had turned their attention away, and were seemingly polishing the power pack. “It depends on HIM in order to work. No one else would be able to use it: it’s not something you can mass produce, because no one else has his Unique Magic.” “That’s true,” Ortho spoke up. “But hey! The basic idea isn’t bad; with a little adjusting, he could make it something really special for everyone to use!” “If he cares enough to try,” mumbled Grim; he subsided at the look you gave him. “It’s up to the judges, and the contest has just started,” you said, crisply, then smiled at Idia once more. “Whatever happens, you did good. Don’t doubt that.” Idia smiled sweetly. “Th-thank you,” he whispered, then glanced at the crystal in his hand and back up at you...before offering it cautiously. “Would you...like a souvenir? Heh…” You chuckled, and took the crystal, placing it in your pocket. “Sure,” you said. “Thanks, Idia.” “Y-You’re w-w-welcome,” stuttered Idia, looking like he was scared of feeling too happy. He paused and cleared his throat with a cough before reaching into his hoodie’s pocket, pulling out his cell phone. “Well, um...I wanna catch up with a new show I’m watching, so...I’m, uh...y’know...gonna go find a nice, safe corner till the judgment call comes, and...well…ju st, uh...exist, heh…” “Can I watch with you, Big Brother?” Ortho peeped hopefully. “Sure,” Idia said with a smile and a nod, then gave you the same gestures before scurrying away, looking like he couldn’t wait to get away from everything that had the power to breathe. Yourself and your two companions chuckled and gave a collective mock salute to the Shroud brothers, as Ortho followed Idia quickly. Then, still chattering amongst yourselves, you hurried to rejoin the group and see what else was at the exposition… None of you were aware of Xavier Madoc’s eyes following the mob’s movements, before glancing back at Idia’s device. One could have sworn his one green eye flashed.

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The exposition had come to an end, and after two hours of deliberation, the judges were ready to deliver their verdict. The contestants had lined up on either side of the room, while the audience sat in chairs before a podium. Yourself, Caelyum, and Grim all took seats in the second row (the front row had filled up too quickly) and watched as Dr. Alcott approached the podium, adjusting his spectacles and shuffling some papers in his hands. You glanced to the right. Along with the other contenders at the expo, Idia and Xavier were naturally lined up, both on the same side of the hall. Xavier stood with a cocksure smile, arms crossed, while Idia was nervously twiddling his fingers, biting his lip with his dagger-like teeth. He looked towards Xavier and smiled nervously. “S-So, uh...may the best man win, huh?” he said, awkwardly. Xavier didn’t even look at the dorm head as he narrowed his eyes and simply said, “Don’t worry. I will.” Idia looked a bit befuddled. Abe and Ortho - who stood beside their corresponding creators - looked at each other and shrugged. The sound of Dr. Alcott brought your attention back to the podium. “It’s time,” Cael and Grim murmured at the same time, as the lead judge addressed the audience, crooked nose pointed high. “Friends of science,” the doctor began, “I am not one for grand speeches or over-sentimentalizing the talents we’ve seen on display here today. Virtually every experiment we viewed today, every invention created or formula concocted, was of interest.As far as those doing this for an assignment go, my supposition is you will all pass with flying colors. However, there can only be one winner: one person to leave this exposition a proper champion.” He snapped his fingers and one of the other judges stepped up beside him, and handed him a trophy, with a golden ornament resembling a ringed planet. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Alcott intoned, “The winner of the Annual Science Expo is…” Xavier smirked, and straightened up his labcoat, taking a deep breath, as if ready to thank everyone… “...Mr. Idia Shroud!” Xavier froze, the smile seemingly slapped from his face as his eyes widened. Idia’s eyes widened too, and he gasped in surprise as the crowd applauded. One could almost see tears in his eyes as he realized what had happened. Yourself and your party cheered as Ortho nudged Idia up to the podium to accept his trophy, which he did with trembling fingers. You were grinning from ear to ear, and so was Idia; his shark-toothed smile had never been wider, you felt, nor more genuine in nature. His amber eyes sparkled like a pair of glittering gold coins. As Dr. Alcott began to congratulate Shroud - who was hugging the trophy to his chest almost like a teddy bear - you turned to see the other contenders. Most of them - including Abe - were clapping politely. The only exceptions were Ortho, who was literally dancing with joy… ...And Xavier Madoc. He looked absolutely livid. His face was almost as red as Riddle Rosehearts’ could get, his fists clenched, one eye twitching as he gritted his teeth angrily. His mismatched eyes were burning… You felt your blood run cold as the blue eye was surrounded by a matching aura. “Grim!” you hissed, tapping the feline-like creature on the side. Grim turned fast...and his ears flattened back and he mewed as he saw droplets of ink dripping from the magic crystal Xavier wore… “Oh, no,” he gulped nervously. “What’s wrong?” Caelyum whispered...then frozen when he saw the same. “Oh, barnacles...is that…?” “Overblot,” you replied, gravely. “Here we go again…” Just as Dr. Alcott shook Idia’s hand, and was about to dismiss him, Xavier suddenly let out a screeching cry of apoplectic rage, which startled everyone present. All eyes watched as the white labcoat of the first-year science master flapped behind him like the wings of a huge war bird, as he flew back towards his panel, and hurriedly strapped the ERPC to his back. “Unacceptable!” he shouted. “I will not allow it! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT! No one outsmarts me! NOBODY! My machines are perfect! My work is superior in every way! And if you doubt that - if ANYONE STILL doubts that…!” A feral grin came to his face as he extended one arm. “...Then I’ll just have to prove otherwise, won’t I? Paint & Thinner.” A flash of turquoise light was immediately followed by an explosive sound. KA-ZAM! A gale wind ripped through the hall, as a swirl of black mist surrounded Xavier Madoc; you cursed violently under your breath as blue and green light burst through pockets in the spiraling cloud of inky darkness. No doubt Xavier’s strong emotions and the level of magic he had put out earlier had blended together, and with the power pack on, he could burn through magic and cause damage with greater force and strength than you could guess. “Brace yourselves!” you called to Caelyum and Grim, as everyone else in the hall dove or ducked for cover. “This isn’t gonna be easy!” “Is it ever?!” Grim yowled, while Cael simply squinted, watching with you as the mist began to clear… ...And soon, you could see the change that had come over Xavier Madoc. The right side of his body had seemingly not changed at all...but the left was another story. Not only was there now a blue aura surrounding his left eye, not to mention the metallic, syringe-tipped left hand...but his whole left side seemed to have become a cyborganic nightmare. The left side of his face was covered in metal plates, and his entire left arm and leg had become robotic in nature; the clothes on the left side of his body were seemingly frayed and shredded, exposing portions of a metal chest and clockwork-esque innards. In-between the joints of his limbs and face, black ink oozed like oil. Xavier’s one green eye was feral looking; bloodshot with a pinprick pupil. He grinned in a manic way, and let out a cackling laugh that rebounded off the hall walls. “HA HA HA HA HA! You dared to overlook my creations?! You spurned my talents, eh?! Then let me show just how powerful I can REALLY become!” he roared, and the ERPC roared to life as he thrust out his syringe hand. “I told you, I can extend my unique abilities without proximity! So now...NOW, ALL OF YOU, GIVE ME YOUR POWER!” In horrific fashion, the needles extended...and five members in the crowd collapsed as they were pricked, turning gray and pallid. Their entire being became monochrome as, in a split second, all emotion was drained from them and into Xavier’s being. Xavier shot out his claws again, the protracting talons jabbing into another five people and rendering them the same. Now, panic set in, and people screamed as they raced for the door. “Don’t leave in such a rush!” laughed Madoc, and snapped the fingers of his one human hand. The doors suddenly shifted, becoming solid walls, and all the windows clicked as they were locked into place. “The party’s just beginning!” Xavier’s claws lunged at you now, but yourself, Grim, and Cael all quickly dropped, ducking the attack. Three other people who had been standing behind you, along with two more, were drained in your stead. Xavier shuddered, a toxic aura surrounding him as the tanks were filled with more and more emotional energy. “More...MORE!” he bellowed. “If I can’t have your respect, I will have your rage...your despair...your panice...fuel me! FUEL ME!” Idia and Dr. Alcott ducked behind the podium with twin yelps. Ortho hurried to check on his brother, and barely avoided the needles as they shot out. The other judges weren’t so lucky, and crumpled in an unconscious, grayscale-colored heap as their emotions were drained. Abe rushed forward to try and stop his creator, desperately grabbing hold of Xavier’s one human arm. Xavier snarled, gnashing his teeth. “Imbecile and traitor!” he roared into the droid’s pleading face. “I have no further use for YOU!” Xavier jerked away his human hand, then, with a sneer, thrust it out again...and - THOOM! - a magical shockwave slammed into Abe’s chest, sending the robot flying. He crashed down beside your trio, the three of you still lying on the ground as Xavier continued to stick his needles into everyone who moved. The room was in a panic, the other contestants’ creations smashing on the floor as people dove for cover. Slowly, Xavier began to make his way through the hall, laughing dementedly. “All this over a freaking trophy?!” hissed Grim. “I think there’s got to be more to it,” mumbled Caelyum. Abe nodded, as if to confirm this, and then gave you a look as if to ask, Now what? This was the burning question; you had to figure out a way to keep Xavier from hurting more people, as well as remove the power pack. As long as he still had the converter on, his power wouldn’t drop. He could potentially stay in Overblot for a much longer period of time, burning the power almost as quickly as he got it...growing just strong enough to overwhelm… “Okay, I’ve got a plan,” you said at last, and whispered to your compatriots. “Listen closely…” Xavier, meanwhile, grinned as he approached a group of people, huddled together. “Let’s try an experiment,” he hissed, a mad grin on the young doctor’s face as he lifted his syringe hand. “I now know how swiftly I can drain an organism...now, can I make it more slow and painful?” He cackled, his victims babbling pleas for him to stop as he lifted his hand, preparing to shoot out the razor-sharp needles and drain them dry. “Every emotion in your body...slowly siphoning into mine...let’s see how long it can really-” FWOOSH! “Nya! Back off, crazy-coat!” Xavier jumped back with an almost animalistic sneer, and swirled his ragged cape around as he looked towards the source of the fire that had distracted him. Grim was standing in a ready pose, balls of blue flame held in each forepaw as he smirked challengingly. “Insufferable hairball!” shouted Xavier. “I WILL NOT BE DENIED! I WILL HAVE MORE POWER!” He lunged at Grim, swiping with his robotic talons, but Grim moved aside quickly. As Xavier plunged towards him, a loud smashing sound was heard from behind. The mad doctor turned quickly, and his one good eye widened in surprise as he saw that Abe had kicked a hole clear through the wall, and was ushering people through the hole and out of the area, Idia and Dr. Alcott leading those still conscious to safety. “NO!” shouted Xavier, and shot out his needles...but he was just too late as Abe blocked him, giving him a determined glare as they scratched helplessly against his armored plating. Then, giving Xavier an almost pitying expression, the robot leapt through the hole himself. Xavier moved to try and give pursuit, but Grim thrust out his arms, and formed a wide ring of fire that blocked the scientist’s path. “You think this will stop me?!” Xavier bellowed. “You can’t defeat me! My invention gives me power beyond yours!” “Good to know. I’d hate to have to refund anything.” Xavier stopped short and glanced about, trying to find the source of Caelyum’s voice...before, suddenly, he felt a strange sensation brushing up against his legs. He looked down...and screamed in a mixture of panic and rage as a horde of marble white Locker Crabs began to swarm over him, their pincers latching onto parts of his clothing and the edges of his inkstained metal carapace, trying to drag him to the floor. “GET OFF ME, YOU CRETINOUS CRUSTACEANS!” yelled Xavier, trying to kick and swat away the crabs, unaware of the shadow that stepped through a gap that formed in the flames, and approached from behind. The crabs snipped their claws at the leather straps holding the ERPC in place. Xavier slapped them away...then jerked as, suddenly, the weight of his invention was pulled away. “WHAT?!” he spat, and turned around fast, pupils pinpricks as he saw you jump backwards, holding the device in your hands. “NO! NO, YOU-GACK!” He hit the floors as the crabs tripped him up. You scampered back through the gap in the flames, which Grim soon closed up. The little monster was jumping up and down, pumping his forepaws/fists and cheering. “NYA! Get ‘im, Cael! Pin ‘im down!” the cat called. “We’ve won now!” A low laugh from under the swarm of Locker Crabs knocked the smile from Grim’s face. “Won? Hardly. I’m still getting warmed up!” ZAM! Xavier sent out another shockwave with a loud shout. You toppled onto your back, the ERPC falling from your hands and thunking onto the floor. The crabs scattered, and the flames were extinguished as Grim was sent rolling across the hall. You quickly sat back up...and shuddered. Xavier loomed over you, the acid-colored aura around him showing his fury as trails of spilling ink traced his steps. You snatched up the ERPC and scrambled to your feet, making a dash for the whole in the wall. “NOT SO FAST!” roared Madoc, and lifted his human hand. He screamed some foreign incantation, and the shattered section was suddenly patched up, the debris flying back into place, stitching together like a jigsaw puzzle’s corners. You swerved and made a dash for a window; you could break it, after all, even if it was locked. Xavier snarled out another incantation, however...and teleported directly in front of you. You skidded to a halt, but not fast enough as he grabbed hold of your arm with one hand, and lifted his syringe claws, a wild grin on his cyborganic face. “HA HA HA!” he cackled. “What a foolish attempt that was! You truly thought you could defeat me?! I will drain you till your very soul is rendered inert! Nothing can resist my power! With the ERPC, I can remain like this for eternity! And when the world grovels at my feet, I will build more machines! BRILLIANT machines! My mechanical creations will-!” FWOOMPH! A burst of flame slammed into Xavier, bowling him over and singing his labcoat. You fell back down and scrambled away as you held tightly to the power pack. Xavier snarled as he stood back up, his mechanical pieces clicking and sparking...as the two of you saw who had re-entered the room. It was Idia Shroud; Ortho had evidently picked the lock on one of the windows, and the pair had climbed through. Idia was visibly trembling, but tried his hardest to look brave, twists of orange curling through his ethereal blue hairdo. “Leave. Them. Alone,” Idia intoned. Madoc sneered. “First you steal my prize, now you RUIN MY MONOLOGUE?!” he yelled. “Alright! Just for that, I WILL OBLITERATE YOU!” Xavier charged at Idia, but the head of Ignihyde narrowed his eyes, gritting his sharp, jagged teeth. His hand shook as he held it, as if showing doubt… ...Then, his stance and expression hardened, and the shaking stopped. Just as Xavier Madoc leapt through the air, swiping his syringe claws through the air...he snapped his fingers. KRAK-KOOM! An explosive blast of fire and noise, like a grenade had gone off, erupted directly before Madoc. The explosion sent the mad scientist flying backwards, his labcoat tattered and scorched, black marks on his skull plates. Xavier cried out as he slammed headfirst into a wall...then crumpled to the floor, and fell still. He was out like a light. The mad doctor was done. You sighed with relief and stood up as Ortho cheered. “WOO-HOO! Way to go, Big Brother!” he exclaimed, and gave Idia a smack on the back. The hunched head of Ignihyde flinched and smiled shyly at his artificial sibling. “It was nothing,” he whispered faintly, visibly blushing. “Are you okay, Prefect?” Ortho asked. “I’m fine,” you nodded as you approached them, and glanced around. “Where are the others?” Right on cue, a low growl was heard. The three of you looked to see Grim was just sitting up, massaging his skull after evidently banging his head during his tumble. “Me-owwwww…! That creep hits way too hard!” he moaned out. “Did anybody get the number on that-MREOWR?!” He was cut off as Idia scooped the imp up and began to snuggle him, crooning and planting chaste, loving kisses on his head. “Awwww, the poor wittle kitty!” he cooed sympathetically. “Did you get an ouchie? Did the mean cyborg hurt you, huh?” “HISSSSS! I’M FINE!” Grim spat, kicking and squirming. “L-Lemme go! For the last time, I DON’T LIKE SNUGGLES, STOP!” Idia just let out a happy hum, squeezing Grim, repeatedly crooning, “Awww, poor thing, you poor little dear…!” over and over again. Ortho giggled sweetly, while you just rolled your eyes and smiled. A skittering sound heralded the reappearance of Caelyum, who reformed out of a pillar of white sand crabs. He stumbled on his feet as he returned to his normal state, and you placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You okay?” you whispered. “No,” mumbled Cael, and smiled wearily. “When I use the power that way, a fraction of my will - my mind - is in every single crab. I feel like I just got thrown through the loop-the-loop of a roller coaster seventeen times.” You gently patted his shoulder and smiled back, gratefully. “Walk it off, matey,” you said softly with a wink. Cael chuckled. “Aye,” he nodded, as your group moved to look down at the defeated Xavier Madoc. “I will.” For several seconds, the ink-leaking cyborg lay on the ground, unmoving. But that was alright: none of you were expecting him to move. By now, you knew the drill of how things worked after Overblot...and sure enough, after a few seconds, wisps of silvery-white mist began to drift up from the defeated scientist, as his whole body began to glow a blinding white. All of you shielded your eyes from the light, watching as the mist began to spiral, and soon enough, images formed in the center of the floating cloud. Pictures from the past… “Dad! Dad, look at this!” A tall, thin man in white, with a pointed goatee, looked down from the workbench he was stationed at. He smiled as a small boy - with mismatched eyes of blue and green - came waddling into the room, holding a piece of paper. “What is it, Xavier?” “I made a blueprint, dad! I wanna make a robot! Like one of yours!” squeaked the young Xavier, and held out the paper to his father. “Do you think it’s any good, Dad? Do ya? Huh?” The older man lifted the paper and looked; he chuckled at the untidy crayon scrawl drawn on the page, the acronym “A.B.E.” accompanying a childish drawing of a metal man in a porter’s outfit. “Not a bad idea, Xavier,” he complimented his son, and handed the “blueprint” back to its creator before ruffling his son’s hair. “You’ll make a fine inventor, at this rate.” Xavier giggled, playfully swatting at his father’s hand, then gave him a wide but shy smile. “You promise?” he peeped. “Could I...could I be as good as you, Dad?” “No,” the man answered, and leaned down, kissing his son’s forehead. “You’ll be even better.” The child’s happy hum was interrupted by the shifting of time, as a new image spun into view: Xavier was a little older now, and working in a laboratory. He whistled as he fitted a screw into place on a device he was building...only to freeze as he heard voices coming from outside the shop. Curious, he trotted over to the door, and peeked outside. He could see the shadows of two men, arguing not so far away, and heard what they were saying. One of them he recognized as his father’s voice… “Oscar, you can’t be serious!” “I’m sorry, Xander,” the other voice said. “All I know is that Charles got to me first. What would that tell you?” “That Charles is a faster runner,” droned Xander. Xavier giggled softly, but clapped a hand over his mouth to avoid being heard. “Very funny,” Oscar’s voice drawled. “I’m serious, Oscar. You KNOW me, we’ve worked together for years! Are you going to take his word over mine?” “Right now, I haven’t got a choice. His patent has been in development at my company for a while; all that’s left are i’s to dot and t’s to cross. Even if what you say is true, Xander, he finished his work more quickly; I’m not seeing a lot of incentive here.” A pause. “...So that’s it then?” came the terse voice of Xavier’s father. “What about my family, Oscar? What about my son?” “Relax, Xander. You’ll come up with more inventions, you always do, and I’ll be just as willing to buy!” “Forget it. I’ll find another person to sell to.” Another pause. “...Okay. Okay. If that’s how you feel about it,” came Oscar’s weak reply. “Goodbye, Xander.” “Goodbye, Oscar. Tell Charlie he knows where to stuff it.” Oscar’s shadow disappeared, and a few moments later, the sound of a door was heard opening and closing. Xander was heard sighing, and Xavier saw his father’s silhouette slump into a nearby chair. Curious, the boy trundled out of the room to his father’s side; the older inventor was sitting with his head in his hands, massaging his brow. “Dad?” peeped Xavier. “What was all that?” Xander blinked at his son. “Oh. You...heard that, huh?” Xavier nodded slowly. Xander blinked...then sighed and picked his child up, placing him in his lap. “Listen to this, Xavier, because it’s very important,” said the doctor to his son. “Not all inventors are good. You must guard your inventions well, and you must always do your best to make sure no one can top you. People will try to steal what you make, people will look for weaknesses in it. Never let them find any way to stop you.” He placed a hand under his son’s chin and gave a sad smile. “You’ll be brilliant someday...but with brilliance comes danger. You can’t trust anyone, understand?” “I can trust you.” “Of course,” chuckled Xander. “And I can trust my machines,” added Xavier. “Well, yes, but a machine isn’t a person,” Xander said. “Machines only exist to follow their programming. Machines will always do what they’re supposed to. Machines will only let you down if people making them make mistakes. People aren’t like that: people are flawed, and people are foolish. They will pass you over and cheat you if they find a way or reason. Never let that happen. Okay?” “Okay, Dad. I’ll do my best.” The scene shifted again. Xavier was now much older, nearly the same age as he was now. Abe now stood at his side as he worked on a project in his laboratory, building a new machine. “This is going to be the greatest thing ever!” he cheered, grinning to his mechanical companion, who nodded in happy agreement. “Just think of how much fun the science fair will be with this completed! Ha Ha! Man, Abe, we have this in the bag!” “Hi, Xavier!” The pair looked towards a new face that had entered the lab: a fellow youngster in red. “Oh, hey, Gus! What’s up? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the science fair?” “I haven’t figured out what to do yet,” sighed the boy sadly, then smiled weakly. “So, uh...I thought, well...maybe you could help me come up with an idea. I mean...you’re like a billion times better at this stuff, heh…” “Sure, I can help!” smiled Xavier, helpfully, and clapped his hands together, dusting them off, waving for Abe to go fetch a few books. As the robot marched off, the teen in red noticed the item on the workbench. “Hey, what’s that?” “Huh? Oh! It’s my project for the science fair. Looks pretty cool, right?” “Yeah! What’s it do?” Xavier explained quickly. The lad looked envious of his science-savvy friend. “Wow...I’ll never figure out how you can do all that stuff...you’ve gotta be the best inventor ever!” “Awww,” blushed Xavier. “It’s just a knack.” “Can you show me how you make it?” the teen asked, hesitantly. “Sure, if you want,” Xavier said, blithely shrugging and smiling. “Then I’ll help you figure out what you’ll do yourself. Sound fair?” The boy smirked; Xavier didn’t notice the cunning in his eyes. “Yeah. That sounds fair,” the classmate answered. The scenario changed once more. Xavier now glared with absolute hatred at the boy in red...who was smiling, chest puffed out with pride, as he showed off his machine to the judges, who cheered and applauded. It was a machine identical to the one Xavier had made...and the boy had made it first. Xavier had been forced to change his plans, and the experiment he’d come up with at the last minute had been sub-par. The cheat got first place. Xavier got nothing. Xavier snarled, fists clenching as the boy in red smirked in a sidelong way at him, and mouthed the word, “Sucker,” before continuing to bask in adulation. Xavier Madoc scowled as he packed up his items. He was shaking a little. “You can’t trust anyone,” he whispered to himself. “Well, you’ll see...you’ll ALL see...I’ll come up with something no one else can top. I will PROVE to you how good my science is. Just wait and see…” His mismatched eyes burned as he turned his back on the laughing classmates and applauding teachers...and stalked back to his lab. Alone. With his machines. “...I don’t need anybody. Just my machines.”

The mist cleared and evaporated, and the white light faded...revealing Xavier Madoc had changed back to normal on the floor. He was still unconscious, but the glow was gone from his blue eye, and the machinery parts had vanished. Silence reigned for a few seconds. This was not unheard of. By now, you had accepted there was always a “digestion period” where everyone was taking in what they’d just learned. This time, however...the silence stayed unbroken. No one spoke a word, looking like they were trying to properly form thoughts, even as Xavier began to stir again. As he did, he reached out with a hand, fumblingly, mumbling incoherently… ...And froze as someone knelt down and took that hand. Xavier looked up...and seemed stunned when he stared into the wide yellow eyes of Idia Shroud. For a moment, the two looked at each other...then Xavier pulled away with a sneer. “Cheat,” he hissed. “I never cheated,” whispered Idia, sounding surprisingly confident for once...confident, but careful. “It’s not that no one recognized you, Xavier; no one was trying to neglect you. It’s just...there could only be one winner. And I happened to be it.” “It wasn’t an easy decision, either,” added Ortho. “Oh, no?” Xavier grimaced, looking skeptical. “No,” Idia answered. “Dr. Alcott spoke to me before I returned: you would have been second place. Your invention really impressed him and the other judges, they just...felt mine was more easy to use widespread. Yours needed a few tweaks for them to give it the topmost prize.” “They said they couldn’t have asked for a better start to the expo than you,” added Ortho, in a quiet, helpful voice. The bitterness in Xavier’s face had faded slightly, leaving his expression blank and cold. He turned away quietly, and hugged himself, curling up against the wall. “You can’t shut yourself out because of one bad incident,” whispered Caelyum. “Trust me: I know what it’s like when you seal off your heart. It doesn’t get pretty.” “No one is invincible,” added Grim. “Well...except for me, but...that’s because I’m awesome.” You rolled your eyes at the hubris of “The Great Grim,” and knelt down beside Idia, looking into the heterochromatic eyes of the mad scientist. “Just because you’re brilliant doesn’t mean everything is going to be perfect. Similarly,” you said, “Just because one person did something terrible, it doesn’t mean you can shun all people. Everyone and everything has flaws. The important thing is to learn from them.” Xavier furrowed his brow and looked down at the floor for several seconds...then looked back up at both of you. “...I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I...I shouldn’t have lost control. That was...that was childish of me. And...I’m sorry for what I did.” He looked to Idia and smiled shyly. “Your invention was...not too bad.” “Thank you,” Idia said, with a slight blush, and helped the scientist to his feet. Just then, the sound of metallic footsteps echoed out. The group of you turned...and Xavier’s heart seemed to sink as he saw Abe re-enter the hall, yellow eyes fixed on his creator. “Abe, I’m so, SO sorry,” Xavier said, seriously. “I shouldn’t have-EEP!” He was cut off as the metal man crushed him in a solid bear hug, nuzzling his steel cheek against his creator’s hair. Ortho and Grim both giggled, while yourself and Caelyum smirked. Idia, for his part, didn’t seem to know what to make of the scene. “I think he already forgives you,” you said teasingly. Abe nodded to show this was the case. It was obvious he was just happy his maker was back to normal. Xavier smiled bashfully and gestured for the metal man to put him down, then looked to Idia. “So, uh...y-you’re the head of the dorm,” he said, and rubbed his arm. “Do you, uh...like...have any ideas on how to make the ERPC better? More...accessible?” “I can think of something. You know...maybe,” Idia said with a timid smile. “I mean...I’m r-really not the best choice, I...I got the whole idea for MY thing from an anime-” “Anime?” Xavier asked, and perked up visibly. “What anime?” “Oh! Uh...Magica Marocca. It’s...um...a Magic Girl series? You, ah, probably don’t know what that is-” “YOU WATCH MAGICA MAROCCA?!” Idia blinked, stunned, at the sudden look of exuberant excitement on Xavier’s face. “You...you’ve seen it?” the otaku nearly squeaked out. “I love that series!” exclaimed Xavier. “I mean...okay, it’s not, like, the GREATEST thing, in terms of story? Kinda rushed...but I really love the art style, a-and the way it plays with the themes and ideas of a typical Magic Girl series! It’s like Watchmen, but for...that!” Idia looked like he’d just found his soulmate. “I feel the same way! A-And have you seen Glitter Cure?” “Rascal is one of THE best villains ever.” “I AGREE!” squealed Idia, clapping giddily, that wide, almost manic smile you saw so rarely stretching across his face, matching Xavier’s instantly. “Oh, my gosh, no one EVER knows about that one! This is great!” “It is!” nodded Xavier eagerly...then took his turn to blush. “Um...d’ya think we can...oh...I-I dunno...maybe watch some together?” “I mean...only if you want to,” peeped Idia, ducking his head anxiously. “I’m...n-not used to people who...WANT to watch it with me, heh...normally I-I can only talk about it online…” “I’d like to watch it with you,” Xavier promised. “And...and we can talk about our inventions in the meantime. Does...does that sound fair?” Idia nodded slowly, and began to smile wider once more. “Yeah...yeah, it sounds like a plan,” he said, then looked to Ortho. “Is...is it okay with you, Little Brother?” Ortho gaped. “...You’re asking me if YOU can have a VISITOR in the apartment?” “Yes.” “Like...you WANT to HANG OUT WITH SOMEONE?” “Yuh-huh.” “...Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my Big Brother?” You snickered. So did Xavier, as Idia smiled awkwardly. “You wanna come with, Abe?” the mad scientist asked his robotic companion, who saluted in response. “Great!” Idia laughed. “Let’s go then!” And with unusual, uncharacteristic joy, the otaku and the eccentric sauntered off together, their androids following them as the exit door reformed and they left the convention hall. You smiled. “Well,” you sighed happily. “All’s well that end’s well. Looks like Idia’s found a new friend at last.” “I’m happy for them,” smiled Caelyum. “Finding a person who you can connect with is important.” “Uh-huh,” nodded Grim. “Now, there’s just one problem.” “What’s that?” both you and Cael asked. Grim wordlessly pointed to the mess of chairs, scorch marks, busted machines, and dented walls that the hall had become. You went pale. “...Ohhhhh...right...I forgot...we’re the janitors.” “Uh-huh,” Grim said again, drably. “Well, good luck with that!” Caelyum chirped, and began to saunter off towards the door. “Hey! HEY! Where are you going?!” snapped Grim. “Back to the Mystery Shop,” Cael called over his shoulders. “I have a job of my own to do, me hearties! Take care!” “But-!” Your call was unanswered. Cael disappeared, leaving you and Grim standing alone in the mess. You both looked around, then at each other. “...Grim?” “Yeah, Minion?” “It’s moments like these where I wonder if helping people is worth it.” “I never wonder, Minion,” sighed Grim. “Moments like these, I know it isn’t.”

Your feet shuffled as you went to find the broom and dust pan. From saving the day to cleaning up the wreckage, a Prefect’s work was never done.

The End

[ficcrimes]

conductive

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Vox, Baxter; mentions Valentino  Ship: Vox/Baxter; background Vox/Val A/N: look, sometimes the Gods bless you with a vision of a crackship in a dream, and it’s then your responsibility to share it with the rest of the world. Warning: physical and emotional abuse, oh and it’s also n/s/f/w. Summary: Electricity flows through water. ( Vox hires Baxter on behalf of Valentino to make a one-of-a-kind aphrodisiac, and then, through only semi-related circumstances, they end up in bed together. )

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There are a plethora of circumstances that come together and lead Baxter into Vox’s bed, some trivial and some not. 

You can decide which is which.

It starts with Valentino wanting an aphrodisiac made, something new and unique that will keep him safe and secure at the top of the sex industry. Not that he’s in any real danger of losing that position, but it never hurts to dig his heels in from time to time. He tells Vox to find him a chemist, emphasizing that expendability is more important than reputation. 

Finding Baxter is easy enough, and he meets Valentino’s requirements. He knows the tricks of his trade, and it seems like no one will notice if he goes missing. There’s some complaining that what they want from him is to make a mockery of science, but a job’s a job and so he takes it. 

If he does well enough and Valentino decides to keep him around, Vox even makes the idle promise of shelter from the exterminators. 

Production is slow and Valentino is impatient but can’t be bothered to see Baxter himself. More often than not, he sends Vox to check in on him and pressure him into working faster. Every time, he’s met with a longer-than-necessary rant about how science can’t be rushed, or it actually can be if they want a half-finished and unstable product. And in a sense, Vox understands; perfecting technology takes time, upgrading too fast and too soon gives way for malfunction and insufficient performance. 

Eventually, if he comes knocking on Baxter’s door, there’s less pressure and more observation. Sometimes, though he won’t admit it to himself, he just needs to get away from Valentino. And while Baxter isn’t his typical sort of company, he can’t say he outright dislikes him. The little scientist is twitchy and loud at times, and aggressively passionate about the order of his workspace (not that, in Vox’s opinion, there is any order to the small, messy lab), but it’s all charming in its own sort of way.

Baxter’s different from what he’s grown used to, and that in of itself has a certain charm to it. 

Vox also can’t help but notice that Baxter seems to mind his presence less and less, even when he arrives unannounced. He still tells him he can’t work competently under the pressure of supervision, and Vox finds that laughable. Not only does Baxter continue to work without missing a beat every time, but Vox likes to remind him that even if he isn’t physically present, he’s always capable of watching. 

However, Val’s impatience idles only for so long. It doesn’t matter if Baxter only needs another week or a day or even an hour, he thinks that it’s taking too long. Vox does his best to deflect, maybe even defend Baxter’s process and progress, but Val doesn’t want to hear it. 

Heads roll when Valentino doesn’t get his way. Or, in this case, screens crack. It’s Vox’s fault, after all, that he found and brought Valentino such a slow-moving chemist. He’s known meth cooks that work faster; who cares if the products were questionable at best? 

Vox has to wonder how he ever thought partnering with this man, personally and otherwise, was a good idea. But as he’s repairing the cracks in his screen, he remembers just how honeyed Val’s words were in the beginning, and how easy it was for red smoke to blur his vision and cling to his wiring. 

At the most basic of levels, to say that their relationship is complicated is putting it lightly. 

And maybe it’s those complications and the loneliness they breed that leads him back to Baxter. There’s never been any denying to Vox that Baxter is desperately lonely, too, and maybe it’s in poor taste that he decides to take advantage of that. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and he calls the fish demon over. He tells him they need to discuss product and progress, and it’s not necessarily a lie but it is mostly bait. 

When Baxter gets to his place, Vox takes note of just how out of place he looks. Baxter is dull and dingy compared to Vox’s vibrant and electric home. The contrast is strangely appealing. 

They talk for only a short while, but Vox has no shame in letting his disinterest be known. Soon enough he’s waving talk of business aside, and tries for something a little more casual, a little more personable. 

He’s no Valentino, but he knows he has charms of his own, and he can see the angler fidgeting as he lays it on thicker and thicker. 

Truth be told, Baxter’s quite adorable when he doesn’t know what to say. Talking about himself is a lot harder than rambling on about his sciences, Vox guesses. 

It doesn’t take Vox long at all before he’s talked Baxter into his bedroom, and walked him backward to the bed. He’s so much smaller than the TV demon, it’s almost laughable how easy it is to shove and pin him down. 

Given how stubborn Baxter is, the fact that he’s so eager and easy to undress is a pleasant surprise. Any fight he had in him is gone by the time Vox has him straddling his lap with Baxter’s back to his chest, one hand between the smaller demon’s legs and an electric tongue teasing one set of gills on his neck. Vox’s other hand is pressed against Baxter’s flat chest, sharp-tipped fingers digging in, holding him as steady as possible. 

Baxter is warm and wet against his fingers, and his thighs tremble anytime Vox strokes just the right spot. And any time Vox lets his fingers vibrate inside him, Baxter’s entire body shudders desperately. 

“Please,” Baxter pleads breathlessly, doing his best to lean forward and away from Vox’s tongue. His gills flare and his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, not that Vox gives him the time to do so. 

“Since you asked so nicely, baby,” Vox replies, wrapping one arm around Baxter’s middle, the other reaching for himself. He rubs himself against Baxter’s eager opening, enjoying the way the other juts his hips out or grinds down against him. He’d known Baxter was lonely, but he never would have guessed he was so touch starved. Not that he’s complaining about it. 

He guides himself inside and Baxter down against him, and let’s the other squirm and adjust to his size before he takes hold of his wrists. He holds them tightly, and without moving his own hips, Vox starts to thrust up and into the smaller body. Over the years, he’s changed his body more times than he can count. One of the most recent upgrades and installments was a thrusting motor. Val had seemed to appreciate it, for a while at least. 

But Baxter seems to like it even more. His back is arched and he’s pressed his head back against Vox’s shoulder, panting open-mouthed and heavily. Once Vox is sure he won’t pull away, from overstimulation or otherwise, he lets go of one wrist and slides that had between Baxter’s legs again. 

He finds his clit and rubs quick circles around it, gently shocking as he goes. He grins to himself when he sees Baxter’s esca lighting up, along with the markings on his face and the smattering of freckles across his body.  He’s no expert on Baxter’s particular anatomy, but he can only guess that, along with the whining and gasping, means he likes the attention he’s receiving very much. 

The motorized thrusting increases speed and intensity, and Vox can feel himself getting closer. His screen dims and he releases Baxter’s other wrist so he can hold on to his hip instead, digging sharp fingers into the scales there. The pinch makes Baxter’s pelvis jut forward, and that makes them both gasp and grunt in pleasure. 

“I can’t - ” Baxter suddenly says, airy and breathless. He doesn’t know what to do with his own hands, and so he settles for holding onto Vox’s arms instead to keep himself steady. His thighs are trembling again, and Vox can feel him squeezing against him. 

Vox doesn’t say anything, and instead just grins to himself and watches as the other rides it out, whining and wriggling and shaking. It doesn’t take Vox long at all himself after that to finish, and when he does he finally shuts off the motor and thrusts up and into Baxter himself. He rolls his hips a few times until he’s done, then slowly pulls himself out. 

He let’s Baxter go, and he all but crumples to a heap on the bed, out of breath and completely spent. He manages, barely, to turn himself onto his back. Vox lays himself out on his stomach beside him, and reaches out, using two fingers to tilt Baxter’s head in his direction. 

“This doesn’t leave this room,” he says, tapping one finger against Baxter’s lips. Baxter rolls his eyes, but nods his compliance. 

“Good,” Vox says, letting his hand move lower, resting idly against Baxter’s chest. “Oh, and about Val’s love potion?” 

“It’s not a love potion, it’s--!!” Vox’s hand moves up again, and this time covers Baxter’s mouth.

“About Val’s love potion,” Vox starts again, grinning - Baxter’s kind of cute when he scowls - “I’d make sure you make some decent progress on that shit soon. Especially if you want to keep all the perks that come with the job.”

[teaveetamer]

I completely agree the picture is not traced. The facial shape is different, as is the tilt of the head, and the ears, eyes, eyebrows and nose does not match up. Also people trying to use the ears looking alike as proof has me in stitches when 1. ears have a pretty universal shape, and 2. even then Mariannes ear is completely different anyway! Mariannes antihelix is a nice y shape while Dorothea has a goddamn rectangle as the fossa, and thats just for starters.

Yeah that opacity trick is really deceiving because you can’t actually see any of the details in the pieces that differentiate them.

And really in anime style there’s not a lot of variation. If you want to draw “traditionally pretty woman” you’ve basically got one or two nose shapes you can go with. Lips rarely have defined like… lip parts. So just saying “oooh these two lines are in the same place!” Is ridiculous.

Like the head turned into a 3/4 profile is pretty similar but ripping off head positioning is barely plagiarism. There’s only so many poses a human body can do.

People just want to find a reason why it looks “copy and pasted on” and it doesn’t come down to plagiarism, if I had to guess it comes down to anatomy and shading. Her head looks a little too short to me. It’s very VERY slight but I’d bet if her chin were extended down like four pixels to overlap more with her neck, they extended her jaw back to sit more under her ear like jaws usually do instead of slanting off. and they brought some of the dark shading from her body up to her face (it is oddly bright compared with almost no shadows despite her body and neck having tons of really dark shading) it would be fine.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Chromosomal Rearrangement

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

A sequel to this fic

Word count: 3804

Prompt: “Would it help if I stayed?”

TW: Vomiting

———————

“You can leave...” Joan mumbled.

“Would it help if I stayed?” Anne asked. She doesn’t look away from George, who has his bony snout resting in her hands.

“I don’t want to upset you further.”

“I’m already upset, Joan.” Anne said. “And you hiding anything else will only upset me even more.”

“There’s a lot to know.”

“My schedule is clear.”

Joan’s bottom lip trembled, but she wiped her eyes to stop any more tears from coming out. She took a deep breath and nodded.

“Alright. If you really want to know everything...”

“Joey!!”

“...then we’ll start with that.”

Anne’s head finally snapped up from her brother and she looked around frantically. That voice sounded alarmingly human and very young. The thought that Joan might have experimented on a child makes her stomach turn.

“Who is that?” Anne asked. “You said there were only four!”

“Four that I wanted you to know about...”

Loud thumps came from the overhead vents, and then something was lunging down from one of the hatches and clinging to Joan’s face. The sudden appearance causes Anne to scream and scramble backwards. George’s arms fling out at her panic and he wraps her in a protective embrace. They both watch as Joan attempts to pull a furry mass off of her, but fails as it squirms from her hands and clambered onto the top of her head, then squeezed her skull with all four limbs in a hug of sorts.

“I missed you!” The new creature chirped, and it's clear, understandable English startles Anne because, out of all the things she’s seen, this one looks the least like a human.

It’s about the size of a house cat with a round body resembling a wooly sheep, but instead of wool, it had dark purple, almost black fur that stuck out in every direction. The wrists and ankles is where the fluff turns to flesh. It has human hands on the front legs and rat feet on the back. A long, hairless, pink rat tail also swished behind it. And, like George, it had an animal skull for a head.

“Hi, Eddie,” Joan smiled thinly, reaching up so the thing could nuzzle her hand.

“Eddie...?” Anne muttered.

“Oh! You’re Anne Boleyn!” The creature shouted excitedly. “Hi! I’m Edward! Jane’s son!”

“Jane’s son?!” Anne exclaimed.

“Surprise!” Joan said weakly. “Anne, this is Edward, as he said. He is my most...intriguing creation.”

Edward puffs out his fluffy chest proudly. His little child hands curl into Joan’s hair for balance. Seeing them on such a creature doesn’t sit right with Anne- it makes her skin feel weird.

“He... Well, a rat sorta jumped into the Gene Pool when I was working on bringing him back.” Joan tried to explain. “Hence why he looks like this.”

“It was kinda weird at first, but four legs is a lot more mobile than two!” Edward helpfully added.

Anne is silent for a moment. She looks from Edward and Joan, to the other three creatures, and then up at George, who is still holding her. He looks down at her and his mouth opens in a small, bony smile.

“I don’t— Joan, you have to explain all of this. Now.” Anne said. “What’s a ‘Gene Pool’? How did you get them to come back in the first place? I need answers!”

“Okay, okay! Calm down!” Joan said. “I’ll tell you, just—“ She hurried over to the door and locked it, seeing as they would be down there for awhile.

“But, like— don’t test anything on me.”

Joan looked at Anne with sad, wide eyes. She looked down as she turned the key in the lock.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Anne. I wouldn’t do that to anyone.” She said. “I’m not like that...”

She sighed, shook her head, and began walking further into the boiler room with her creations tailing after her. Anne hesitates, then she and George follow.

“It was raining when we all came back,” Joan began. “So I assumed that water had to have played a part in our return. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but water is like a base substance for this all. So that’s what the Gene Pool is. It’s water.”

She stops in front of a large tank with a step ladder pressed against one side of it. Joan glances at it for a moment before feeling around in the darkness and finding a desk. She uses a lighter resting there and lights a candle, then flips on a switch. The overhead lights crackle to life, but are still very dim. However, Anne could now see the complete mess that was the table.

Journals and papers stacked a mile high with even more books about human anatomy and anthropology open up to diagrams and explanations. Sticky notes and pages are stuck to the wall, too, with various notes written down by Joan, along with pictures and graphs. She really was putting a lot of work into this twisted project.

“I’m assuming the water isn’t just regular water, right?” Anne asked.

Joan smiled slightly. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

She reaches up and pats Edward’s leg, causing him to jump off and onto the table with a scatter of several papers. Isabel makes a small disgruntled noise at the mess and leaned over and began picking up. Anne notices how delicate her touch is; she’s being careful so she won’t rip any of the papers with her pointed fingers.

“The water has to be...enhanced, I guess.” Joan said. “You can’t just fill up your bathtub and have a person from the Tudor era appear. There’s a process.” She grabs an arm-length glove from the table and slipped it on, then stepped onto the ladder. “It’s called a Gene Pool because the water needs DNA to ‘activate’, as well as other substances like bones or certain herbs that are used in black magic. Stuff like that. You and the queens are what I call Organic Cadavers. You were brought back by those college kids through literal necromancy.”

“How does that make us ‘organic’?” Anne asked.

“Because there was no necrotic process to your reincarnation.” Joan answered. “No DNA or bones were needed. Some teenagers just drew some symbols and chanted a spell and BAM! You were back. However, me and the other ladies in waiting are Inorganic Cadavers. A Gene Pool wasn’t needed, but we weren’t summoned, either. Your existence drew us out of the Abyss. That’s what I call the place where the dead roam, by the way. And a Gene Pool is a direct gateway to it.” She pats the edge of the tank with her gloved hand, smiling slightly. There seemed to be pride glinting in her eyes.

“What are these then?” Anne looked at the creatures surrounding her.

“Incomplete Cadavers.” Joan specified. “In which, something went wrong with the creation and they turned out like so.” She gestured to them. “And so they ‘wear’ these false forms to shield their core.”

“Wait— false forms?” Anne furrowed her eyebrows. “This...isn’t what they actually look like?”

Joan looked her in the eye and said, “No.”

Anne swallowed thickly. Her skin was crawling, but her own intrigue kept her listening and asking questions.

“They’re made out of a compound called Necrosis—or that’s what I call it.”

Suddenly, Joan plunged her gloved arm into the tank. She leaned far over the edge, jerking slightly like she was struggling with something. Then, she pulls back swiftly and shows Anne the writhing black mass with dozens of red eyes in her hand.

“Necrosis is an inorganic material that’s created through the mixture of water, DNA, some base materials for stabilization, and just a little bit of black magic.” Joan said, literally winking as if she weren’t holding an ungodly abomination in her hand. The gooey thing opens up a mouth and makes a terrible gurgling cry that twists Anne’s stomach up in knots. It squirms slowly as if it were drenched in molasses, and a thin, inky tendril slid out from its bulbous body with a horrid smacking noise and whipped around one of Joan’s fingers, pulling on it sluggishly. “It gravitates toward living beings and life force so it can feed. Once it finds a source, it latches onto the sentient being and begins to basically parasitize and replicate the cell structure until it’s a near direct copy. Then, it, well, breaks down the person, essentially deteriorates them, and takes over their body. But that’s on unregulated conditions! That’s why you always have to keep bare skin covered up when dealing with these little guys because even the smallest bit of Necrosis on a living person can end in their very painful demise.”

Joan let Anne look at the mass of Necrosis for a moment longer, then dropped it back into the tank. She shakes her arm over the top to rid the glove of any goop, then stepped off of the ladder and walked over to a bucket of a whitish liquid, which she dunks her arm into. Anne watched as the surface hisses and bubbles in reaction.

“Salt water kills the bacteria,” Joan clarified, noticing the queen’s expression. “Now, I bet you’re wondering about what happens when Necrosis is regulated. Well,” She gestures to the Incomplete Cadavers. “this happens! Or, well, it shouldn’t happen. They should be more human, but—but I’m working on it!”

She momentarily searched her desk and then pulled out a piece of paper with a diagram of a human on it. Necrosis seemed to be melting from the body.

“You see, when combined with certain DNA, Necrosis will begin to form into the closest thing it can locate in the Abyss to the DNA given. So when I threw in clumps of your hair, he came out.” She nodded to George, who looked up and waved. “He’s the closest thing I’ve gotten to a full Inorganic Cadaver. He just has that skull because a deer skull was one of the base substrates I used for stability in the formation.”

Anne studied the paper she was given, not quite understanding, but trying her best. Then, her head snapped up.

“Wait— when did you get clumps of my hair?!”

“Why is that the thing you zeroed in on from all of that?” Edward asked from where he had been observing her confusion. He has his head tilted at the queen. The glowing orbs in the skull’s sockets blinked.

“Your hairbrush.” Joan said as if Anne should have known that. “It’s not that hard to get DNA when you work in a theater, Anne. I just go to your dressing room and pull out the hair in the brush. Simple! Of course, blood is the best reactant for Necrosis, but asking for that would just be weird.”

“Yeah...” Anne agreed. She hands the paper back to Joan, who puts it on the table.

“Moving on,” Joan said. “After the Necrosis has finished locating a host from the Abyss, I’ll pull it out and place it on the ground. There, it’ll begin to grow into whatever form it chooses. So I can’t really tell what age they may be in. The Necrosis chooses what’s easiest for it to replicate. And once it’s done with that, the substance should melt off and the Inorganic Cadaver will be there, good as new!”

“But that’s not what happened with these guys?” Anne said.

“Bingo,” Joan said. “I tried it too fast with John. I was too desperate and too stupid to regulate what I was doing. So I tried again with Juana. But I went too slow and so she didn’t come out right, either. Then a rat fucking jumped into the tank when I was working on Edward, and I don’t even know why Isabel is so tall!” She sighed and rubbed her temples. “And they’re not even the worst ones.”

Anne looked at Joan fearfully.

“Oh, Joan, no... Who else is here?”

Joan shuffled her feet nervously.

“Joan.” Anne said sternly.

“Maggie’s brother.”

“Thomas-?!”

“And your sister.”

“MARY?!”

A deep, guttural snarl sounded from further back when Anne yelled her sister’s name. They both look in that direction worriedly. George passed them and walked over to a labyrinth of pipes, then stopped. He appeared to be looking down at something.

“Mary and Thomas are not my best attempts,” Joan said, wincing. “They’re not in pain, so don’t worry. They’re perfectly okay, they just—” There’s another low snarl. She gets to the point. “I call them Necrotizing Fasciitis’.”

They walk over to the outstretched pipes and Anne meets her sister for the first time in five hundred years.

Mary wasn’t recognizable at all. She was a long, bestial mass of viscous black material- it couldn’t even be called fur or scales or feathers or flesh because it wasn’t. It wasn’t skin or a pelt it was just a material that coated her body. She was covered in clumps of red eyes that just stared in various directions aimlessly. There are several human arms that act as her front legs, while the back are huge and monstrous, fit with sharp talons curling out from the toes. A dozen more limbs are growing out along her spine, and a long, vertebrae-shaped tail lays curled across the floor. Her head is shaped into a snout and adorned with a mane of bone fragments. Three real eyes, although still deep crimson, actually blink and move and see. When she opens her mouth to growl, there’s several rows of reddened teeth inside.

“Mary, be nice.” Joan said. “This is Anne. Your sister.”

Unlike George, Mary seemed less than happy having to see Anne again. She merely sneered in a monstrous way and laid her head back down on her front legs. Her tail flicked back and forth in an agitated wail.

“You know, I expected nothing less,” Anne said, somehow managing to make a joke. Perhaps she was starting to ease up on seeing everything. Nothing would shock her after this, that’s for sure.

Mary hissed, and it sounded as if several people were trying to imitate a cat at once. George made a chuffing noise back at her and she glowered at him.

“She’s a little grumpy.” Joan said gently. “Here, I’ll show you Thomas.”

The man in question could barely be considered a man anymore. Stomach down, he seemed to be completely normal, but then you looked up slightly and got to see the writhing mass of Necrosis engulfing his head and torso that was covered in so many red eyes that it looked almost scarlet. Like Mary, he had human limbs and a few crags of bone fragments sticking out of the substance. He was sitting against the far wall, just staring at the floor—or maybe he couldn’t see at all. Anne wasn’t sure where the Necrosis began and ended on him.

“Hey, Thomas,” Joan said, causing him to look up. “You remember Anne, don’t you?”

Thomas held up one hand, had it hover in the air tentatively for a moment, then gave them a thumbs up. Edward bounds over eagerly and latches onto Joan’s arm. He scrambled up the side of her body until he could sit on her shoulder.

“I taught him that,” He said proudly. He gave Thomas two thumbs up with his human child hands (which still made Anne uneasy). “Good job! Now you’re getting the hang of it!”

Thomas made a blissful moaning noise, reminiscent of a happy whale.

“What happened to them?” Anne asked. “Why do they...?”

“Look like that?” Joan finished for her. “I messed up. More than I did with the others. I added too many base materials and not enough DNA, so, even though they were pulled out of the Abyss, they couldn’t create a proper body at all. Nor can they take a false form like the Incomplete Cadavers. So they look like this.”

Mary peered at them from where she’s lying down, made a sigh-like noise, and crawled out. She makes sure she “accidentally” flicks Anne with her tail as she’s walking to Joan’s side.

“Wow,” Edward commented. “She does not like you.”

“Yeah...” Anne said. “We didn’t have the best relationship growing up.”

Mary growled and then began making a variety of noises, and Anne realized she was doing her version of talking. If she listened hard enough, Anne thought she could almost hear the pronunciation of certain syllables and the slur of words that have th.

“I think I’m being yelled at.” Anne laughed, then yelped loudly when her foot was stamped on by a miasmic human hand. She leapt backwards, but George caught her before she could completely topple over like the buffoon Mary was trying to make her into.

“Mary!” Joan scolded. “Don’t do that! You could burn her!”

Two of the arms on Mary’s back made an innocent shrugging motion.

“Burn me?” Anne asked as she’s rubbing her foot. “She didn’t...feel hot?”

“Not burn like that, silly,” Joan said. “Blight Burn, Miasmic Burn—it’s what I call when someone is injured by Necrosis. It could lead to that whole body deterioration issue I was telling you about earlier.”

“How do you know?”

Joan smiled wryly.

“Brace yourself.”

She tugged down her shirt slightly to reveal three long, thin scratch marks just below her left shoulder. The interiors were completely black, showing no evidence of regular skin inside. Several other black patches and splotches and claw mark-like formations stretch up to her shoulder, a few speckle her breast, and one even wrapped across the nape of her neck. Most of them were connected by webbing and tendrils of an inky substance that was permanently stained in her flesh. There were also the red dots in each of them— the eyes. When a few of them blinked, Anne nearly threw up right then and there.

“Oh my god!!” Anne shrieked with a gag.

“I know!” Joan cried back. “I can’t change in front of anyone, now. And if I ever want to get laid, I may have to do that with my shirt on. Oh, and swimming is now a no go without a shirt on. This shit doesn’t go away.”

“Does it...does it hurt?” Anne asked. She couldn’t help but reach out in morbid curiosity. “Can I...touch it?”

“Yeah,” Joan said. “Just be careful. And gentle, please. It’s still sensitive.”

Anne gently touched one of the weavings of burns along Joan’s shoulder. It was warm to the touch and strangely bumpy, like the texture of inflamed acne on someone’s face in a weird sort of way.

Beneath her fingertips, Anne felt the sensation one would feel when they touched their eyelid and tried to blink at the same time, and she realized something was blinking. The eyes were. And the miasma around the was writhing in Joan’s flesh, and that’s what finally got Anne to vomit on the floor.

“Eww!” Edward cried, crawling onto the top of Joan’s head like he thought some of Anne’s lunch would somehow get on him. He was nowhere near as close as George and Mary were, who both leapt away in an instant. George, however, quickly snapped out of his panic and went back to Anne’s side to rub her back with his clawed hands while making gentle beast noises.

“Forgot to warn you about that part.” Joan said mildly. “It does that. Are you okay?”

“Are YOU okay?” Anne reprimanded after she finished spilling her guts on the floor. “That— oh my god! That’s disgusting!”

“Says the one who just threw up in a dingy basement.” Edward commented helpfully.

“Does it hurt?” Anne asked worriedly.

Joan shrugged. “Not anymore. Usually. It’s just itchy sometimes.”

“What does it feel like?” Anne prodded further.

“Umm...” Joan went to run a hand through her hand, only to touch Edward, instead, so she just rubbed the back of her neck instead. “Do you remember what it felt like when you were pregnant? Like, the feeling of something moving under your skin?”

Anne nodded with a grimace.

“Kinda like that. But obviously not in the stomach.”

“What happened?”

“Like every other time, I messed up.” Joan answered.

“No offense, but how is it possible for you to fuck up so often?”

“No clue. And none taken.” Joan started to walk back to the Gene Pool and her desk. Mary tags along with her, and the slap of her human hands against the floor makes Anne’s stomach churn all over again. “I was trying to bring back someone related to Cathy, but the Necrosis lashed out when I was trying to get it out. I was lucky to have gotten hit in the shoulder and not the throat because a vital area like that would have gotten devoured instantly. But anyway, it hurt at the time. Like, ‘I want to die so I don’t have to feel this pain anymore’ level of hurt. It was bad. But, luckily, I was able to get to the salt water in time and doused the infection. So now I’m safe, but scarred permanently.”

“Wow,” Anne muttered under her breath. “That sounds...”

“Horrible?” Joan smiled slightly. “I know. It really is. Dangerous, too.”

Anne glanced wryly at the tank behind Joan and her mind flashed back to the Necrosis that had been pulled out.

“Nothing can, like, crawl out on its own, right?” She asked uneasily. The thought of demonic goop dropping on her head and eating her alive during a performance sparks anxiety in her mind.

“Not that I’ve seen,” Joan said. “The Necrosis is relatively tame without any reactors.” She pats the tank, and that makes Anne even more nervous. “And I’m always monitoring it when it is spawning things.”

Anne nodded slowly. She glanced at all the Cadavers and then momentarily stared down at her own hands, wondering for just a moment if she had that stuff churning beneath her flesh and she just didn’t know it yet.

“So this all just...stays down here?” She asked.

“Yup,” Joan nodded. “I mean, sometimes I’ll let them out and wander around the theater at night, but they mainly stay down here.” She frowned slightly. “They have to. I can’t let them face other people. Not yet.” She tentatively took Anne’s hands. “So I can trust you to keep this a secret, right? You won’t tell anyone?”

Anne swallowed thickly. She looked at all the creatures again- Juana and Isabel dozing against the wall, John snoozing on an overhead pipe like a sleepy hairless monkey, Thomas in the back corner, Edward on Joan’s head, George at her side and Mary glaring at Joan’s, and even Joan herself, who didn’t seem as human as she used to be.

Then, she nodded in agreement.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {5}

Summary: With an active shooter in the hospital, Ethan and Y/N remember their lives and all times they’ve spent together.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, triggering content

Word count: 5000+

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are, Isak Danielson - Love me Wrong, Dove Cameron - Remember me, Tom Odell - Can’t pretend, The XX - Angels, Coldplay - Fix you, Coldplay - The scientist.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

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Ukiyo (japanese noun) - living in the moment

When your world comes to a stop and the value of life is amplified by those dead before their time in gruesome ways, it feels like an earthquake shakes the very foundations your life is built on. But when the walls start falling, past and future no longer exist, only the moment you're in and the first person that comes to mind when those walls are gone is what your life is all about. For Ethan, Y/N was the first person that came to mind and his brother a close second.

There wasn’t anything he could do as the doors around him slid close, the inability to pass through the glass barrier pushing him closer to madness he ever thought possible. He was just a few inches away from the ward they’re both supposed to be on and he’s stuck? It felt like a cruel game of fate.

Not only did he have so much to say and not enough time, but he wanted to do something else as well. He wanted to wrap Y/N in his arms and tell her there isn’t a chance in hell he would ever let her walk away, not after he had a taste of what it means to be with her. He wanted to tell her his love is unconditional and that his soul is hers, even if she didn’t want to give him hers. He would wait, as patiently and as stubbornly as he did by now and that she will never lose him because even if he wished, he can’t scrub his heart clean of her tender soul. And he never wanted to.

Slamming his fists against the Plexiglas, red in the face, Ethan falls to his knees. His hands are shaky, his eyes filled with tears, his body feels warm and the back of his neck is trickling with beads of sweat. He’s terrified, seeing his worst dream manifest into reality and while she may be far from the shooter, he can’t be certain and if something were to happen to her, to his brother too, Ethan would lose his mind.

And he can’t help but remember the time he had the whole world in the palm of his hand, yet he failed to do the right thing.

“You really outdid yourself.” She smiled up at him, her eyes focused on his lips as she tilts her head up to reach his chin with her own, falling short a few inches, leaving a small peck just under his swollen bottom lip.

“If I knew making you food would make you that grateful, I’d have done it sooner.” Ethan chuckles, tightening his arms around her just a little more, hoping she knows he would never want her away from him. She had become his heart, his reason to live. She lit a fire within, something he had lost over time and while she’s completely unaware of it, if her world started to fall apart, Ethan would wage war to make sure she’s untouched by grief.

“Oh, shut up!” Slapping his chest playfully, Y/N had managed to hide a smile as she tucked her head under his chin, hiding her face in his neck shyly as his giggle filled her with joy she never felt before. She didn’t give a damn about her soulmate anymore, not when Ethan felt more like a soulmate to her than anyone else ever could. And maybe that is temporary, but she wanted to experience every little thing and keep it in her memory until her dying breath. Ethan Dolan would inevitably break her heart, but she didn’t care. She’ll take the pain for more nights like this.

“Mind if I ask you something”, she spoke quietly, just above a whisper. Ethan could hardly hear her, yet his heart jumped with the notion of her possibly facing him to his crime against her – his secret about their connection. What if she figured it out?He wasn’t exactly sly when she insisted they stop using condoms because she believes she can’t get pregnant and he managed to come up with a possible STD fear since they were anything but exclusive which is dumb since they basically spend every night together. When would he have time to fuck anyone else? When would she? Would she if she did have time?

Shaking his head to get rid of that painful afterthought, Ethan sighs as he nods as a response to her question, praying her suspicions over his excuses didn’t become more than suspicions. He wanted to be the one to tell her the truth about them being soulmates and he wanted more than anything to tell her he never wants to touch another for as long as he lives, but he needed to know she can love him even without the connection.

“You’ve been alive for a long time now. Much longer than me. I guess I’m just curious about your life.” She managed a small smile as their eyes meet, her index finger trailing up and down his chest as she notices his lips part, surprised by her question.

“Yeah, um…I’ve been around for 119 years now. I remember a happy family – mom and dad were like two lovebirds, just a typical soulmate couple that loved each other deeply. After my dad died from cancer, my mom was getting by. She was badass. After she died, Ethan and I left New York for a long time.” Letting out a heavy breath, Ethan closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. It wasn’t easy to remember his parents. Every day that went by, Ethan missed his family. Maybe that’s why he longed for his soulmate so much, because he wanted to replace the family he had lost?

“If it’s too hard”, Y/N tried to give him an out, propping herself up on her elbow to face him properly, her palm resting on his right cheek as her sweet lips pressed a kiss to his for comfort.

“No. I want you to know.” She laid beside him, instead of his chest. It felt vastly important to see the change in every line of his handsome face as he remembered the past and she didn’t want to miss a single word, expression or look he could bestow upon her. He felt more important to her than anyone and this wasn’t just a story, it was his story. With her leg still thrown across his waist and her hand splayed on his chest, she felt confident about her feelings for Ethan solidifying. There would never be another like him. She was sure of it. Drawing a deep breath, Ethan continued.

“My sister left to look for her soulmate, something she managed to do in just a few years and they’ve been happily living in Australia ever since. Grayson and I decided to start medicine, something neither of us regrets. It allowed us to travel, to learn, to save lives and make the world better, even if it’s just one person at a time. We’ve moved a lot for residencies, met a lot of people and moved back here thirty years ago. I’ve taken art classes for a few years, taught anatomy for a decade and even took a year off and lived on an island.” Reminiscing wasn’t easy, there were far too many things Ethan had allowed to slip his mind – some because they were too heavy to think back to and other just because he never felt the need to dig up his past. And while they spoke of his past the entire time and he recounted every mishap he ever had and every victory just to show off, Ethan had never once mentioned the cause behind the grey hair at the back of his head and no matter how curios she was, Y/N let him off the hook for a while. She couldn’t handle seeing his beautiful smile disappear and she absolutely adored his smile.

Ethan wished he was braver that night. He wished he told her the truth and let it all play out on her terms instead of his. Selfish. That’s how he feels now. He could have loved her openly, had her love him too? But he was too selfish back then and he couldn’t change that now. No matter how bad he wishes he could.

And while Ethan remained helpless, grasping his hair with trembling hands, praying his girl and brother are safe, Y/N was rather close by.

“How do we know where he is?” She whispered, looking around with wide eyes as she tried to assess the situation. Her steady hands grasped Grayson’s shaky ones, forcing eye contact as his lips started to tremble.

“Hey. We’re fine, Gray. We’re completely safe and there is no one with a gun pointed at our heads right now. Breathe.” She tried to calm him down, wishing she could roll her eyes right now because she didn’t understand his fear nor how bad she is at talking people down from a panic attack. Grayson’s hands became a cage for her own, his hold strong and relentless. Her jaw is tight, her resolve clear to Grayson who shakes his head.

“Whatever you’re planning, you can’t. I won’t let you.” Making himself clear, Grayson clears his voice as he examines her body language only to find she had no signs of fear taking over her. In fact, she seems fearless and that’s not always the best thing, especially in these situations.

“Protocol says the boss should make sure everyone is safe and you’re clearly shaken up. Grayson, it will take me half an hour tops. I just need to count everyone and make sure no patients are dying.” The fire in her eyes scared him even more than the possible shooter, realizing she isn’t going to back down and if he let her do this for him and got hurt, Ethan would never forgive him. But Grayson was almost paralyzed and it wasn’t death he feared but missing out on meeting his soulmate. He realized how stupid it is to wait for her to walk into his life without moving a finger. If anything, he should have been looking for her since the moment he knew there was a soulmate for him. He was absolutely terrified of dying without ever knowing what true love feels like.

“I’m not letting you leave here without me. I’m coming with and if I tell you to do something during this, you will listen. IS. THAT. CLEAR?” Grayson’s voice wasn’t shaky anymore and he was in charge once more. Y/N’s lips twitch in amusement, actually enjoying a serious Grayson with a badass attitude.

“Sure. Why not?” She shrugged, gifting him with a smile and even if he didn’t mean to, Grayson smiled too.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Amaranthine (adj.) - undying, immortal, undying, beautiful

And while they tiptoed around the wards – Pediatric, Gynecology, Neonatology, Y/N had recounted a night with Ethan she had bared her soul.

“You never talk about your parents.” Ethan noticed her stiffen, her back against his chest had turned into a brick wall, just as strong as those she built around her heart. He had craved a peek ever since they met and he definitely didn’t expect any of the bricks to fall.

But her body relaxed and she turned in his embrace, her eyes focused on his chest and her hands are curled up under her chin. She never seemed as vulnerable as she does now and Ethan felt honored to have her trust run deep.

“They were bad people. I like to pretend they never existed because they did the same for me. I felt like a flaw in the plan, like I was never meant to be born. That’s how they treated me. I feel like they were relieved when I got sick. Even then, they just paid the bills but ignored my existence. I grew up with an army of nannies and nurses, barely ever seeing them. Sometimes I’d hear them fighting…I don’t think their relationship was healthy but they stayed together anyway because the love they had thanks to the bond was unbreakable.” Biting her lower lip, she looks into his eyes briefly, but long enough to know he won’t judge her. He had all the understanding she sought in his hazel hues, a tenderness she always prayed to find in someone. There was no doubt in her mind she could trust Ethan Dolan.

“They owned a company that profited off people’s misery. They funded armies, and as I’ll later find out, terrorists too. My dad was arrested, took the blame so my mother would be free. He was killed in prison two days before his trial. As for my mom…After the nanny came for me in the hospital and took me home, I found her hanging from the living room ceiling.” Closing her eyes, she felt her body betray her as the memory shook her to the core. It just reminded her of all she wants to forget, but she wanted Ethan to know her and why she’s so fucked up. She never felt what love is, to be loved and cared for. She never knew how to love because all she ever had were these fucked up people who saw nothing but each other and even they didn’t know how to love one another.

“I’m here.” But Ethan didn’t run from her or her truth, no matter how fucked up everything is. Instead, he held her tighter, his hands rubbing her back soothingly until she let herself breathe again.

“Do you think I’m broken?” She whispered, her eyes watering as he frowned, his forehead forming a few worry lines she’d normally tease him about because their age difference is so vast despite them both looking so young, but she reveled in knowing he actually cares enough to worry about her. No one ever cared for her so much before.

“Do you?” He speaks and his voice had never been softer, so heavy yet coated with pure love – something she tried not to pay any mind to.

“I do. I feel like I’ve been shattered my whole life and you’re sort of picking up the pieces. Will you fix me? Please?” He didn’t respond with words, but with his lips, claiming hers so passionately as his fingers wiped her tears clean off. He didn’t see her as a project in need of fixing, but he would heal her if that’s what she needs. He would make her see she is wanted, needed and if anything, she healed him too.

It was great while it lasted, great to be loved, the warmth of his cheek next to her with his soft hand brushing her hair from her face and his cheeky laugh in her ear... it was great to be loved but when their bubble was gone, she shattered and felt isolated and alone, on her own in the world with no one to care for her, no one to laugh with. She hated herself for losing him, all because she didn’t know how to let him love her. She didn’t know how to love him either and it tore her apart.

“Okay, so we have everyone covered but the pediatric ward. I feel like we should split up, get it done faster so we can report to the police.” Y/N talks in hushed voices, trying to remain calm as Grayson nods reluctantly, assuming that the danger for them is gone. Who would go to a ward with kids holding a gun? He just wanted to finish his duty and go back to contact the police, his brother too. He worried about Ethan and while Y/N showed no signs of worrying, he knew she was dreading the possibility of losing Ethan too.

“I’ll go left.” She forced a smile, giving Grayson a small wave as she turned away and let out a long sigh. At first she wanted to tell him that Ethan is fine, to give him a message for him in case something went awry, but she decided against it. Why bother when they would be just fine and leave with their heads attached to their shoulders? Why say something when emotions are running high only to regret the words later on?

Sneaking down the hall, she entered every room with a soft smile upon her lips, checking on the kids quickly and instructing them to stay still. Luckily, most kids had a nurse with them, or even a parent, someone to barricade the room once she left and it left her relieved. Those who were alone, she ushered with ones who had an adult by their side, helping kids unwind as well.

She walked out onto the bridge connecting Pediatrics with otorhinolaryngology, her eyes going over the patient list on her side, but no matter how many times she went through them, she was one kid short.

“Fuck.” She mumbled under her breath, sitting down before taking her phone out and dialing Grayson.

“Gray, I’m missing a kid. A Martha Levi? If you found one extra kid, let me know.” Pocketing her phone, she leaned back against the glass made railing, looking at her shoes with a heaviness in her heart. 

Petrichor (n.) - a love for the scent of rain in nature

She couldn’t help the feeling of regret as it washed over her. She should have told Ethan she loves him too, that she wasn’t perfect but she would find a way to make it work between them for as long as he wants her, but she didn’t. Even if she is absolutely crazy for him.

A small smile formed on her lips as she remembered the night she realized she loves Ethan, the night he had acted on impulse and still managed to create such a beautiful memory she would never forget. He made sure she never forgets him.

“It’s starting to rain.” Y/N groaned, holding out a hand as a few drops wet her palm, making her shake her hand and frown.

“Don’t like the rain?” Ethan chuckles, cocking his head to the side as he walks forward, even if the rain started to pour in seconds.

“You’re gonna get a pneumonia!” She shouted over thunder, watching him push his wet hair back before outstretching his hand for her to take.

“Not gonna happen, Dolan!” She meant it. Rain was anything but a favorite to her. But Ethan seemed relentless.

“Come on, sweetheart! I promise it’s just a little bit of rain!” Ethan insisted, a grin taking over his face as she started to gnaw on her lips, a clear sign she’s contemplating his offer, something she wouldn’t have done if she didn’t plan on joining him.

And she hates rain with burning passion, but Ethan seems to love it, every single drop. He enjoyed the rain, the thunder, the smell that lingers after, everything about it. And she loves him. Enough to step into the horrid wetness rain brings, just as long as she gets to kiss him after.

“I really hate you sometimes.” She rolls her eyes at him before taking his hand, allowing him to draw her near and as he does, he rests her hand over his shoulder, taking her waist with his other. Pulling her close, Ethan smirks while she gawks at him, noticing him move in a slow rhythm to a song playing in his head.

“What are you doing?” She narrowed her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows, all while a smile formed on her lips – all in disbelief as her own hips started to sway with the silent song in the storm, a song in their hearts.

“Dancing with a gorgeous woman.” Ethan snickers, leaning his forehead on hers lightly, their noses brushing together and her eyes close for a moment, collecting herself, reminding herself this is real.

Unable to take it, she leans into him, her head resting on his chest as her arms close around him, feeling his hands rest on the small of her back, virtually no space remaining between them. And that’s when she heard it – “Wise men say only fools rush in” – at first it was so quiet she thought she was imagining it, that maybe the thunder had made her imagine the sound, but his lips were right by her ear and he mostly whispered it, - “But I can't help falling in love with you “ - ,but the words made her heart race fast enough that she felt faint.

Her lips part, her mind screaming with every syllable, yet she never felt more at peace. - “Oh, shall I stay, would it be a sin. Oh, if I can't help falling in love with you?” – How can one man make her feel so many things at once? She didn’t know what is stronger – her need to run and save her heart from heartbreak, or her need to stay in his arms forever. – “Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be.” –

Taking a deep breath, she stopped dancing, not even caring about the rain ruining her make up when he stopped too, his lips still moving as his voice got slightly higher, but looking into his eyes as he sang? – “Take my hand, take my whole life too. Oh, for I can't help falling in love with you “ - Even if it was a half whisper, Y/N never felt happier.

Ever since, rain had become a friend, more than a foe and Ethan? He had taken a permanent residence in her heart.

She could still hear him singing in the back of her mind, her eyes closed as she tried to relax, to let his voice ease her nerves for she couldn’t lie – Y/N felt like she’s standing on edge of a very high cliff and she didn’t know if she had the strength to come back down and face everything that pushed her there in the first place. She tells herself she’s fine with how her parents hated her, but she’s not. She tells herself she’s fine with her battles with cancer, but she’s not. She tells herself she’s fine with Ethan being hers but having a soulmate out in the world, but she’s not.

There isn’t anything she’s fine with in this case and she can’t help but wish Ethan was there with her. He would know what to say to calm her raging storm and to stop the war inside her. He’d remind her she’s a fighter, something she has no strength to remind herself of.

“Y/N?!” But then she heard it – heard him. For a moment she was sure it’s a hallucination, but when she turned her head, she saw him standing on the other side of the glass, mere inches away from her with a relieved look on his face.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Looking around, Ethan wanted nothing more than to open the door and hold her, but with the key-cards being useless at this point, he was just happy to put his hand on the glass and have her do the same.

She couldn’t hide her happiness, her hand quickly laying against the glass, longing for his touch.

“Yeah. How”, she pauses to take a breath, her throat closing up as her emotions flood her senses and she’s on the brink of crying. “How are you here?”

“I was on my way to see you. I had to talk to you.” Ethan spoke when her phone went off and she saw it was Grayson. Holding up her index finger, she picked up the call, eager to tell him she and his brother are both fine.

“Hey.”

“Martha isn’t here either.” Grayson’s panicked voice is enough to make her mutter ‘fuck’ under her breath, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll do a second sweep. Stay put. And Ethan’s fine. I’m sort of with him right now.” She let out a weak chuckle, ending the call before rubbing her forehead.

“A kid is missing, I’ll have to go back and check the rooms again.” She explains and Ethan nods, wetting his lips.

“Did you check the janitor closets and on call rooms?” Ethan suggests and Y/N facepalms.

“No…I bet Grayson didn’t either. She might be scared and hiding.” With her hands on her hips, she half smiled at him. “Your brain is beautiful. Thank you.” But Ethan was no longer looking at her, rather over her shoulder with his eyes wide and mouth open and while she didn’t have to look back, she knew it just by the expressions on his face.

Turning halfway toward the door connected to the pediatrics, Y/N felt her heart speed up. She didn’t frighten easily, in fact, people would say she’s not one to flinch, but the sight of a grown man holding a gun to a scared little girl’s head? It was enough to scare her.

There are times in your life when everything comes down to one moment - one defining moment where you're either the hero or a coward. And in that moment, Y/N could see her life pass before her eyes. She saw her father imprisoned, her mother hanging in the hall, the nurse that always hid an extra cup of her favorite jelly, chemotherapy, trying to stand after surgery, fainting in med school when her cancer returned, meeting Ethan, Ethan's smirk, Ethan's warm arms, the way his fingers coil around her neck as his hips meet hers, Ethan in the OR, Ethan kissing her in the rain, his haunting voice as he sings in her ear, Ethan pushing her against the wall as his lips press against her throat, when Ethan said he loves her...when she summarized her life, the past few months she's known Ethan had overshadowed every bad things, every tear and every pain and all she could see is HIM. And her choice was no longer a choice, but a certainty - something she saw worthy of whatever is to come.

"Take me!" She shouts, her hand above her head and her palms turned to the shooter, her insides shaking but her face remained impassive and at peace with her decision.

"Take me, leave the girl alone." She insisted, her voice not wavering, not even a little. She glanced back at Ethan who remained stuck behind the glass door just outside of the pediatric ward and her lips pressed together to keep in the shattering scream of emotions just bubbling to come out.

Ethan pounded on the door but Plexiglas doesn't break easily and no matter how hard he screamed and his face turned red, Y/N was out of reach and he couldn't do a damn thing.

"Fine then." The shooter kicked the little girl, the little one running straight to Y/N who gave her a quick hug and whispered directions to take after she was gone with the man.

"Go straight down the hall to the gynecology ward, you'll find a handsome doctor to keep you safe there."

She knew once the little one arrived, Grayson would know she wandered and would lose his mind, but she couldn't just let a little girl be used for whatever this man intended.

Glancing at Ethan one last time, Y/N mouthed 'I love you' and the next thing she knew, the shooter had grabbed her arm and pulled her before him, the cool barrel of the gun pressed against her temple and he whispered in her ear menacingly.

"Don't do anything stupid."

Trembling wildly with adrenaline overflowing her system, Y/N couldn’t force herself to even try and see Ethan, quite possibly for the last time. She could hear him begging, screaming, offering himself, but she was forced back onto pediatrics and just as they stepped into the main hallway, blood splattered her face.

Gasping, her ears ringing, Y/N falls to the ground, the world around her slowing down as the man falls with her. She’s quick to stand back up, using the adrenaline rush to keep herself going, seeing red dots dancing along her pink scrubs as she raises her hands up in the air, her breath caught in her throat.

All the doors opened at once, the SWAT team swooping in, but the man’s brain is painting the floor, he wasn’t dangerous anymore.

Struggling for a few short breaths, Y/N felt her heart beating out of her chest. No matter how hard she tried, everything seemed out of control and while people are talking around her, she can’t hear a damn thing.

But then she sees him stumble in the ward, his face blotchy, hair a complete mess and she didn’t even realized she was moving. Without even thinking, she jumped up and threw her arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. Ethan was holding her so tightly that she couldn’t see his face, and she can’t tell when he let her go as her vision faded and her body went limp in his arms. Unable to handle the shock of the day, her consciousness slipped away from her and she found herself enveloped in darkness, but she never felt safer in her entire life.

It wasn’t until later that she regained consciousness. Finding herself in Ethan’s bed, wearing his over-sized t-shirt, she smiled slightly. It’s exactly where she wants to be. Looking toward the door left ajar, she hears him.

“What are you doing? She’s a perfect picture with a broken frame. You can’t just glue it back together and think it’s enough. You need to be honest. That might make it new.” Grayson whispers and she couldn’t help but wonder what they’re talking about. Her? Is she the one with a broken frame? She never realized Grayson thought so low of her. It stung to know it now.

“Plus, you see the world in black and white. She doesn’t. You need someone like her in your life, brother. Just tell her everything. She’ll understand.” Now her curiosity is peaked. She can’t help but wonder what the truth is and if it has anything to do with the mysterious soulmate Ethan seems to hide from her.

“It’s not that easy, Grayson. I can’t just come out and say it.” Ethan exclaimed, lowering his voice when he spoke the words Y/N never dreamed would be true. It stopped her heart when he admitted the truth, unaware she had never been more awake in her entire life.

“I can’t just tell her – Hey, we’re soulmates and I’ve known all this time – Y/N would kill me.”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Tags: @beinscorpio​ @peacedolantwins​ @heyits-claire​ @dolandolll​ @godlydolans​ @dolanstwintuesday​ @ethanhes​ @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12​  @zeusgrayson​ @libradolan​ @justordinaryjen​ @pineappledolan​ @graysavant​ @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan​  @shadowsndaisies​ @maybgrayson​​ @dolans4lyfe​​ @mendesficsxbombay​​ @fxkthatdairy 

Anyone crossed out wasn’t able to be tagged, probably an issue on Tumblr’s side, sorry.

[clairenvk]

r + e fic rec

a collection of 40+ completed reddie fics i’ve read on ao3 and loved; ranging from soft to cute to funny to ridiculous to angsty. you may have read some of this, you may not have, but these are all worth your time. if you read any of these and enjoy them then remember to leave a kudos and a comment for the author to let them know that you liked it!

✨ - Fav 😎 - fun/funny 💕 - Soft 💜 - cute (cute cute!)  🌹 - emotional / atmospheric ��️ - angsty ⚔️ - nsfw

💕 up off the floor  - kaspbrak_kid

“In a world where we can kill a fucking clown from space, Eddie Kaspbrak doesn’t get to die from a stab wound."

15.3k words. 6 chapters.

Note - the Most soft. tender. taking care of each other and getting together. this author also has a wip that’s a lot more sad but with as much Yearning as this one so i’d recommend you check their stuff out.

💕 And All The Time He’s Mumbling - monarchyofroses

“It suits you.” Richie frowned. “Huh?” “Being in love,” Ben clarified. “It suits you.” Richie smiled, then, so hard that it made Ben wonder how his face had not splitted in two. “I’m in fucking limerence, man.” 

2.7k words. 1 chapter

Note - ben and richie have a Conversation about the loves of their lives basically. Truly Soft.

💕 What He’s Mumbling? - monarchyofroses

"But. But that's what you do for..." "...A friend," Maggie finished for him, or well, not exactly for him, considering he was about to come out. Richie to God, if you exist and this is your revenge for my atheism, it's not funny. Also, you suck.

3.5k words. 1 chapter.

Note - coming out! i love the toziers. part 2 of the same series the previous fic is from.

💕 💜 No Mistakes - usnavi

When Richie Tozier tells Eddie Kaspbrak he loves him, they're watching Jurassic Park and Eddie's wearing his clothes like it's all meant to be this way. 

1.4k words. 1 chapter.

✨ 💜 Richie Tozier: Come Out and Play - piginawig

Richie Tozier: Come Out & Play, a new Netflix special! Comedian Richie Tozier is back after a very public mental breakdown. And he's ready to (over)share.

5.7k words. 1 chapter.

Note - My personal favorite version of this trope.

😎 Richie Tozier, an Apple Music Listener - plinys

Apple Music ✓ @AppleMusic Thanks for the support @trashmouth! We love to see loyal #AppleMusic fans! Apple Music ✓ @AppleMusic Also, in unrelated news, the #AppleMusic recommended song of the day is “thank u, next” by Ariana Grande.

1.2k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Post Chapter 2. I’m a sucker for fics involving social media. Also, this is funny and lighthearted and i love it.

😎 Retweet. - plinys

richie tozier ✓ @trashmouth what did i miss lol

3k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Post Chapter 2. 

😎 💜 ⚔️ Let’s Hear It For The Boy - sloppybitch

Eddie’s just trying to see if he’s not alone when he downloads Grindr on his phone. It’s by pure, terrifying coincidence that one of the first messages he receives on there is from none other than Richie freaking Tozier. Long story short: trashmouth;) (11:03PM): oh me, oh my. fancy seeing u here Eddie (11:33PM): holy FUCKING SHIT.

9.8k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Part 1 of an ongoing series.

😎 💜 ⚔️ Let’s Give The Boy a Hand - sloppybitch

After finding each other on Grindr and sharing a couple of saucy texts and a phone call that would make a nun faint, Richie and Eddie find each other in the clubhouse, and they... talk. Sure, they talk. Let’s call it talking. Beverly, meanwhile, discovers that none of the Losers have ever gotten drunk, and what’s being a teenager without breaking a few drinking laws? Ben has a free house, and Eddie has never been more afraid of a game of Truth or Dare in his entire fucking life.

24k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Part 2 of the series the previous fic is part of.

✨ 💜 Five Times The Losers Gave Richie Permission - toomuchrootbeer

The Losers keep trying to tell Richie something, but he's never been great at taking a hint. 

10.7k words. 1 chapter.

Note - anything that has all of the losers really present in their fics is the loml. some mentions of period typical racism and homophobia but no slurs, mainly mentioned for context of the time.

✨ 💜 Husband and Husband - thatsuperawkwardgirl

Richie gets the idea at the end of kindergarten, when the teacher has everyone do projects on their families. The class talks about how some families have moms and dads who are married, and some don’t. Richie being…well, Richie, he goes straight home and asks his parents why they got married if they didn’t have to. Richie learns about marriage and love, and comes up with an excellent plan.

7.8k words. 1 chapter.

Note - the sweetest, most adorable fic ever. couldn’t stop smiling. Part 1 of an ongoing series.

💜 A Good Husband - thatsuperawkwardgirl

Eddie sits in a chair in front of the principal’s desk, bouncing his leg anxiously--a habit he picked up from Richie, that annoying little twerp. Mrs. Smith is calling his mother for the third time in the last hour, and Eddie knows she won’t be picking up; Wednesday mornings are when she runs her errands and doesn’t return until late afternoon. This is the perfect time to get suspended, Eddie really has to pat himself on the back for that one. Eddie gets in trouble at school for fighting, and Maggie Tozier comes to pick him up.

2.5k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Part 2 of Married Life, the same series the previous fic is a part of. Truly so ridiculously cute it makes me want to scream.

😎 💜 light as a feather (got you and i together) - anniebibananie

RICHIE: why the fuck does eddie look so cute today RICHIE: his sweater sleeves keep falling down over his palms, like how could I see that and not think “I know exactly how to keep those sleeves up, just hold my hand” BEN: richie this is so sweet! BEN: but I feel like you didn’t mean to send this to me? RICHIE: This message will self-destruct in five seconds. [or Richie accidentally texts Ben about his feelings for Eddie and everyone gets involved]

1.6k words. 1 chapter.

Note - could not stop smiling the whole way through.

✨💜 the years go by like days - georgiestauffenberg

It’s Eddie he wants to get a hold of, though, and he does, tucking him under his arm, and ruffling his hair, making him laugh. He’s startled when Eddie looks at him with such happy, shining eyes. And, for a split-second, he’s tempted to kiss him right then, right there in front of everyone. He wants to. Badly. He doesn’t. He leans in, instead, and he smacks a loud, wet kiss to Eddie’s cheek, punctuating it with a “mwah!” He does it again and again. “I’m so proud of my little Eds Spagheds!” “Get off me!” Eddie says, laughing and shoving him away, swatting at his hands. AU. in the 27 years in-between, Richie and Eddie forget a lot, but they don't forget each other.

121.9k words. 4 chapters.

Note - make sure you have the time before starting this because i couldn’t stop once i started. god. really good.

💕 come on, come on - Chokingonholywater

“Yo, Eddie, play some music, will ya?” When Richie asks Eddie to put on some music in the car that day after school, Eddie doesn't think anything of it. It's a familiar request; he knows the passcode to Richie's phone, knows where Spotify is, knows what Richie likes to listen to while he drives. But what Eddie doesn't know is why, exactly, there's suddenly a playlist his name on it - literally.

8.6k words. 1 chapter.

Note - They’re in Love. and they have a playlist to prove it.

💕 sleepover - sleqnir

“You jealous?” Richie tilts his head. “Jennifer is kinda hot.” He’s referring to Ben’s girlfriend. Eddie’s face falls. “Oh. Um… no. I’m happy for him. I just…” “Want it too?” Richie’s jaw clenches. His chest aches in a way all too familiar. “A girlfriend? For yourself?” Eddie’s looking at him nervously. “I want… a relationship. I guess.” Richie looks back up at the ceiling, giving another millionth sigh. “Yeah, well… don’t sweat it so much. You’re not the only one.”“You want a girlfriend?” “I want a... relationship.” He mimics Eddie’s words.

2.5k words. 1 chapter.

🌹 ⚔️ the anatomy of a joke - crescenteluce

He trails off and Bev raises an eyebrow. ‘So, you being in bed together fits in there how exactly?’ ‘No, Jesus, Bev.’ Eddie says and Richie, horrifyingly, feels his cheeks heat under Bev’s suspicious look. Something needs to be done, so he plucks Eddie’s phone from his hands. ‘I am appalled by your implications, Beverly.’ He says sternly, trying to ignore the blood still not quite done rushing to his face. ‘I would have you know that I’d never defile Eddie like that, the poor man’s 40 year old and still a virgin and if I’d have the honor of-’ He’s cut off by Eddie trying to wrestle the phone away from him as Bev cackles delightedly.

11.7k words. 1 chapter.

💜 say what you mean (out loud) - Redburn

Richie can’t help it when something heavy refuses to leave his stomach, something relentless and daunting. He looks at Eddie and can’t help but want, can’t help but need, watching this boy watch the stars and thinking he would be happy to spend the rest of his life just like this, right here standing next to him. Or, Richie realizes he likes Eddie and promptly goes through the five stages of grief. 

7.4k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Good ol’ fluff with slight internalized homophobia and a whole lot of yearning.

💜 across the gap - sondersoflight

“You fucking stupid asshole,” Eddie says but he is smiling when he leans forward, grabbing Richie by the lapels of the ridiculous bright yellow shirt with dancing avocados he is wearing. “I’m the fucking love of your life.” 

6.4k words. 1 chapter.

💕 💜 Five Times Richie Kisses Eddie and One Time He Doesn’t Have To - multifandomtakeover

Eddie Kaspbrak is a little inexperienced in the kissing department and Richie Tozier is more than willing to help him out. 

5.7k words. 1 chapter.

✨ 🌹 💕 ⚠️ No Saints, No Sinners, No Devil As Well - saooharine

Andy Muschietti looked at Eddie Kaspbrak so now I feel obligated to repair the damage and make it gayer.

Following Richie from the sewer showdown and to the hospital with Eddie and the Losers Club by his side.

6.2k words. 1 chapter.

⚔️ In This Cold Heart - pineapplecrushface

The future Richie sees while he's caught in the deadlights gives him a chance to save Eddie. In the year afterward, they both try to follow Stan's advice. 

16.9k words. 1 chapter.

💕 💜 ⚠️ 🌹 Wouldn’t it be nice? - podcastalien

Richie wonders what exactly is supposed to be so great about being a kid as he tries to carve initials into the kissing bridge. 

2.5k words. 1 chapter.

⚔️ Men of Fall - kaboomslang

Do you remember? He watches his own hand slide closer along the armrest. Do memories transfer by touch, in this fucked up magic town? Remember, Richie, please, and tell me I wasn’t imagining things. 

7k words. 1 chapter.

💜 Any Man’s Game - tossertozier

It's two months before graduation, and Richie and Eddie can turn virtually anything into a competition. Even kissing.

10.5k words. 3 chapters.

💜 ⚠️ ⚔️ This safe place - tinyarmedtrex

Eddie asks Richie to pretend to be his boyfriend at his family reunion. What’s the worst that can happen? 

31k words. 14 chapters.

⚠️ ⚔️ Stay for the Storm - inoubliable

Richie and Eddie had become friends almost on sight. Since they met, most of Eddie's time in Los Angeles has involved Richie in some way. It's a little different, now that they're both famous. It's a little different, now that they're sleeping together. Well, to be fair, they've been sleeping together for a long time, but. No one knows, not even their friends. Eddie has been very careful about that. It's just not the sort of publicity he needs. So when Beverly calls him that sunny Thursday morning, the last thing he expects her to say is, "You're fucking Richie?"

20.8k words. 1 chapter.

💜 and this is who we are - sunsetozier

He realizes, suddenly, that being in a position like this meant nothing to him two weeks ago. At the time, it was completely normal, holding no real meaning other than comfort and tradition – after all, him and Eddie have been disgustingly cuddly with one another since they were kids, even though they’d usually bicker while holding each other close, much to the annoyance (and entertainment) of their friends. Now, however, Richie can feel his heart skip a beat in his chest, an undeniable thundering that echoes loudly in his ears. He can picture his younger self, as much of an oblivious idiot as he may have been, soaking in the warmth and the affection of Eddie’s touch when they hugged, shoved, or even just nudged one another. It’s funny, really, how much changes once you’re aware of how you feel. [In which Eddie and Beverly lie to their friends for five years before finally coming out, much to the surprise of one supposedly straight Richie Tozier.]

40.7k words. 8 chapters.

💜 hawaii hottie - sunsetozier

Letting his eyes flutter shut in order to avoid everyone’s gazes, Richie meekly explains, “I got another letter from Eds, okay? And I know he’s on vacation, doing all these cool things, and I know Hawaii is, like, super sunny and everything, but- guys. Guys.” He stops, unable to force out the words he wants to. From somewhere off to his left, he hears Bill say, “Spit it out, man. What’s the big deal?”“ There was a polaroid in this letter,” Richie tells them. He would be embarrassed, but by this point they all know how smitten he is, so there’s no reason to be bashful as he practically whines out, “And he’s getting hotter.” [In which Eddie goes on vacation and Richie can't deal with it.]

4.6k words. 1 chapter.

💜 He Came In Through the Window - mischiefmanager

"It’s finally happened. I cannot fit through this goddamn window. I’m out of ideas." or Eddie enlists the help of two other Losers to help fix his bedroom window, and finally spills the beans about what's going on between him and Richie.

11.3k words. 1 chapter

💜 Home - mischiefmanager

“Tooooozier-Kaspbrak residence,” Richie says cheerfully, holding the phone up to his ear. “May I ask who—oh hello, Mrs. K! How the fuck are you?” Richie and Eddie living together in LA, being in love and dealing with Mrs. K long-distance.

6.9k words. 1 chapter.

✨ ⚠️ hit me baby one more time - theappleppielifestyle

Richie reaches up a shaking hand and puts it on Eddie’s stomach. “Uhhh,” Eddie says. “Is this a bit? Is this a really inopportune bit? ‘Cause I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Richie, but this is kind of an important moment-” “What the fuck,” Richie says, not for the first or last time, and lurches forwards to hug him. (Or, Richie gets stuck in a time loop.)

11.1k words. 1 chapter.

💕 are we living for the feeling? - michelllejones

“You’re such an idiot,” Eddie tells Richie with a frown. He snorts at that. “Says you. Your knees are all bloody. You fall off your bike or something?” He asks, and for a split second Eddie thinks he can hear genuine concern in his voice. He’s probably just imagining it, though, since Richie’s only ever concerned about two things: his dick, and the size of it.“ So what if I did?” Eddie bites back, feeling almost defensive. Richie should be the last person teasing him about falling off of a bike. Especially since Eddie watched him trip over his own foot less than a week ago! or, Eddie takes a tumble and goes to Richie for help.

4.5k words. 1 chapter.

💕 what would they say? - michelllejones

And despite telling Eddie he would, he doesn’t go home—at least not at first. He isn't sure what wills him to do it, but his bike takes him in the other direction, past the Barrens and to the street, right to the Kissing Bridge in all its vandalized glory. Slurs and poorly carved hearts and names he doesn’t recognize stare back at him as he digs into his jeans and pulls out his dad’s old pocketknife.

4.1k words. 1 chapter.

💕 back in the summer - michelllejones

“What?” Eddie snaps, feels immediately defensive. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?” Self consciously, he buries his nose into his comic book. Glares at Richie over the brim, frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He waits for Richie to take the bait, provide some half clever quip that will catapult them into some sort of argument, as is customary. But the taunt never comes. Instead, he reaches forward—with a look in his eyes that if Eddie didn’t know any better would let himself think is almost fond—takes a curl in between gentle fingers and says, “your hair’s longer,” in a tone so tender it is almost unrecognizable.

1.6k words. 1 chapter.

💕 ⚠️ savage - inoubliable

Eddie Kaspbrak is twelve years old. He's kissed for the first time. And then kissed again. -- "You're bisexual." Eddie has never said the word out loud before, and it feels a little taboo, but it also feels like a weight off his chest. "You like boys and girls. It isn't weird, and it isn't gross, and you aren't selfish because of it. You aren't dirty or disgusting. You're Richie Tozier, and you're my best friend. I'm Eddie Kaspbrak, and I'm an idiot. I get it."

3.7k words. 1 chapter

💕 💜 Morphine - inoubliable

Eddie Kaspbrak is fourteen years old. He's a lot more honest with himself when he's drugged. -- They all crowd around Eddie's bed, their faces shimmering a little. Eddie has to squint to make out their features, and he laughs once he does. They all look so worried. Eddie feels great. "Oh my God," Stan says, at the same time that Richie says, "He's high."

2k words. 1 chapter.

💕 We Were Here - inoubliable

Eddie Kaspbrak is fifteen years old. It's the first time he kisses Richie Tozier. -- Eddie has a couple of options, here. He can pretend he didn't just realize what Richie has been trying to tell him the whole time. He can pretend like Richie is just being a jerk when he flirts and teases and taunts. He can pretend like they're just friends, and then they can stay just friends, and nothing will change. Or he can kiss Richie. He kisses Richie.

2.3k words. 1 chapter.

💕 ⚔️ The Ever After - websters_lieb

Eddie lives, and life goes on. Or The story of how Richie and Eddie sort out their shit and realize that they've been in love the whole damn time while they work towards their happily ever afters.

20.8k words. 5 chapters.

⚠️ In the Glow of the Vending Machine - sentimentalscribe

“I can’t believe that I’m going to live an eternity in hellfire over a hypochondriac who would probably make sweet love to his inhaler given the chance.” Alternatively: Beverly Knows way before these chucklefucks do. Alternatively: It's the '80s in a small town and having a panicked confession to your best friend is not nearly as fun as it sounds.

3.5k words. 1 chapter.

💜 😎 eddie gets grindr - BookRockShooter

I shouldn’t be doing this, Eddie thinks as he opens his phone. Is this technically illegal? he thinks as he clicks the app store icon. Well, it’s definitely fucking wrong either way, he thinks as he types grindr into the search bar. - Eddie downloads grindr and rediscovers an old friend - and crush - on it.

2.1k words. 1 chapter.

⚠️ confessions in the dark - BookRockShooter

Richie nods to himself. “Okay. Talk. I can do that. Hey, you know a trope in movies I always hated? When, like, the main character’s love interest is fatally wounded and dy–” He trails off, staring at Eddie with a haunted look in his eyes. “Well. You know. And, uh, the main character chooses that exact moment to confess their undying love? Like, shit, they’ve always got the worst timing.” He laughs, short and shaky, and Eddie thinks, Oh my god. “So, what, they wait until the last moment to say something? Isn’t that fucked up? Because, now, they’ll never have time to… to be happy together.” His eyes are shiny and, suddenly, all Eddie wants to do is wipe away his tears. Wants to help him feel better, because Richie Tozier doesn’t deserve to be in so much pain, not on Eddie’s behalf. “Richie,” Eddie murmurs, and he hates himself for what he’s about to say. “Richie, I… I love you.” - *fix it fic for chapter 2 bc fuck canon reddie is real*

2.2k words. 1 chapter.

💜 😎 head lights pointed at the dawn - starkmccall

"You do realise this means people around the world are gonna hear about how much I love your dick, right?" Richie says, tucked behind Eddie in bed late one night.

He can almost see Eddie squint at him. "That's not actually a part of the show, is it?"

Post-Chapter Two. Eddie lives. Richie goes back to comedy.

3.2k words. 1 chapter.

[elmidol]

There is a Necessity in Balance (NSFW)

Three Blind Tooke Part Two Precarious Harmony

Read on AO3

Warnings: oral, vaginal sex

Three Blind Tooke

 Part Two: Precarious Harmony

 Chapter Thirty-Nine: There is a Necessity in Balance

 Urvno entered your bedroom shortly after you had finished the cocoa and cookies. Kylo had left with Rey to address the Knights of Ren. A part of you suspected that their absence was also to ensure you were more forthcoming with the physician than you may have been when in their presence. He would not yet draw your blood for testing. Urvno informed you that you would fast that night to ensure that he could do so the following morning. In the meantime, he seated himself on a stool that he had brought with him. The datapad he carried was tilted your way, and you glanced over the information displayed. He had outlined what sort of dietary changes he wanted for you. These would assist in boosting your metabolism; it was a reminder that your uterus was not the only organ damaged by the lightsaber.

 The First Order physician was someone you trusted with your health. He had always excelled at keeping you alive. You had harbored so much hatred, resentment and, yes, fear during your time on the Finalizer and Starkiller Base. Urvno has been the only individual—aside from Kylo Ren and General Hux—with whom you had let down even a fraction of your guard. You found your body readily relaxing in his presence. This contrasted with your unsteady relationship with General Hux. With the red head, you always had walls up. His cold eyes constantly searched for weaknesses in your armor. Tooka. A pet, which the man clearly viewed as being replacable.

 One of the sweets that your mother had baked remained on the plate that was set on your bedside table. This you grabbed whilst the physician scrolled past the data outlining the dietary changes in favor of bringing up information regarding the exercise regime you would start with. It included images—scans, to be exact—of the weak points in your anatomy. Your upper body strength had not suffered quite so much as your lower extremities. You bit down on the cookie.

 A second instance of Urvno scrolling revealed the first weapon that you would learn to wield. You fought to control your facial features. At any moment, until they left, either Captain Phasma or General Hux could walk into your room. They could see your expression and become suspicious. You clenched your jaw to prevent yourself from mouthing its name. That would be a huge mistake for the aforementioned reasons.

 This was a projectile weapon, although you would not equate it with a blaster. A lanvarok. You had never wielded this, much less could not remember having any personal experience seeing it. It was a weapon used by the Sith if your memory served correct. The projectiles were controlled via the Force...which you did not have.

 Rey, you realized. Kylo Ren was leaving you with Rey in part for missions like this first one. The target that would be killed by the lanvarok was a known collector of Sith artifacts. That meant black market. Deals went sour all the time. It made perfect sense to you. You only hoped that Rey could bring herself to assist you. Your Force bond would help guide her hand despite the distance that would be between the pair of you and the target. There were Force sensitive beings throughout the galaxy, ones that kept their powers a secret.

 Your skills as an LDS and Rey’s capabilities as a Force user.

 Initially you did not realize that you had started to hold your breath. Only the building discomfort alerted you to the manner in which you were agitating your lungs. A steady exhale followed by a slow inhale. You drew the tips of three fingers back and forth along your forehead. The training that you would undergo involved strengthening the connection you had with Rey. When it came to the first target alone, it was an individual with plenty of credits to toss around for protection. The Knights and Rey, or maybe Rey alone, would focus on them while you placed yourself into a position to fire upon the target. You would observe through a scope, your bond alerting her to the moment you pulled the trigger, and from there she would take control of the projectile.

 It only made sense for at least one of the Knights to be present on this upcoming mission. Otherwise one of the bodyguards could overtake Rey, if not prevent her from fulfilling her part in the assassination.

 The weapon’s capabilities in hand-to-hand combat would prove useful when you were confronted with the hired guards and mercs that protected the perimeter.

 Of course, the new Supreme Leader of the First Order wished to keep his name out of the mission. He would not be involved in arranging a meeting. That’s my job as well, you thought. Not that you were surprised. When working with the splinter cell of the Resistance, there had been one mission wherein you had been responsible for a similar act. At that time, though, your target had been a First Order officer.

 A tap by Urvno’s middle digit eliminated the data on the screen. You reeled back a fraction, startled by the suddenness of the action. Your eyes darted to the door to your bedroom. No one there. No sounds of footsteps. You supposed that there was no true reason for the physician to risk being caught regardless. It wasn’t as though you were physically ready to work with the weapon. Nor did you know if it was already on-planet. It was your target that you would be researching. Learning their routine, how they arranged meetings. That information would take some digging.

 You settled back against your pillow and stared at the familiar patterns on the ceiling that had long ago been traced by your mind. This room was so small compared with your memory of it. Large when contrasted with the bunks and shared quarters that had been your life since leaving home.

 Urvno did not rise from his position. He was content to observe you, the man likely assessing how your behavior altered now that you were not in enemy territory. He was the one out of place this time. That was...nice. Relieving.

 “What do you think?” you asked. Receiving no answer, which you attributed to the vagueness of the inquiry, you elaborated. “You once tried to prevent us from meeting together. After Starkiller… Now we’re married. Does it terrify you that I may not survive? Or do you have more hope that it will be possible?”

 He drew a hand down the length of his face. There were exhaust lines on his features. How had you missed those? Or had you conditioned yourself to ignore whatever glimpses of morality there were on the faces of those in the First Order?

 You could hate so strongly. Hate blinds people. It was a lesson your parents had taught you, and that Ip had reminded you of on more than a single occasion.

 “Don’t be afraid,” you told the man, the gentleness in your voice half faked and half genuine. An echo in the mind: that line, by countless voices. Your father. Kylo. Ip. Kylo. Yolo Ziff at one point. Kylo. Your stomach clenched. How was your former enemy, your current husband, among those names? That part of his humanity that complicated things. The phrase spoken as a manipulation tactic then more softly, earnest. “I guess that isn’t fair to say.”

 For the first time since you had met the man, the final sliver of coldness melted away from the man’s gaze. There had always been a sort of wall in place before. A barrier that stated you were Resistance and he was First Order. Urvno reached for your hand, enclosing his around it. Something a parental figure might do. Your eyes stung. There was a tightness in your chest that clenched, unclenched, clenched again. You dared not lean too much on this man, not physically nor emotionally. But you kept your hand in his, and drew comfort from the contact.

 “We were all told that Snoke was overthrown due to a betrayal he had dealt the First Order. I signed up to serve the cause, not a single being.” You had done that as well, which was why when Kylo Ren and General Hux had mocked singular beings you had been able to ignore their jabs. But whenever they ventured to curse your beliefs, you had lashed out in retaliation. “The galaxy is far from what it could be.” This view you shared.

 By pushing for the galaxy to demilitarize, the New Republic had crippled those in need. They had allowed attacks on Outer Rim planets, and they had allowed the First Order to grow in the shadows. The military did not exist solely for war. That was something your father had taught you. Protecting the weak, similar to how the Jedi functioned, that was the role of the military as well. It was what General Organa had tried to remind the New Republic of. And she had been deemed a warmonger.

 Deciding that enough time had elapsed, that it was becoming too familiar, you withdrew your hand from Urvno’s. The physician stood. He verbally repeated the dietary changes that would be implemented, as well as reminded you that fasting was imperative for accurate results. There were several things he wished to test for. A mini exercise routine would be copied to a basic datapad that he would bring. You took basic to mean childlocked. No extra features. No means of giving into temptation to contact the Resistance. That was fine. You were committed to the mission. Most important, to staying by Rey. She was the Light, along with Luke Skywalker. A beacon of hope that the Resistance and its allies would fight alongside. That was your duty. You didn’t need anyone else to tell you as much.

 I need to find a way to read up more on Sith lore. This could be a trick. A way to manipulate Rey to give into the Dark side of the Force.

 “I’ll follow your orders,” you said. There was wiggle room in your words. You did not promise the extent of your loyalty nor its duration.

 As soon as he left and you were alone in your room, you rose from the bed and walked over to the window. There was life, vivid and brilliant. You had missed Naboo and its sights. Space was gorgeous in its own right, but it could not compare with home. On this planet were the people you had known while you had grown. Some of them had pretended there was no looming war. That had been your mother. Misguided. Hopeful.

 Hope was that double-edged blade you had never mastered. One day you would, this you swore to yourself.

 On the other side of the window pane, Rey and Kylo stood opposite one another. Their postures were different from what you had observed when they sparred. A lingering sense of peace buzzing in the back of your mind; the impression via your Force bond that the young woman was calling upon the Light. She was looking to your husband for guidance on...you did not know what. There were countless things she could be asking. A former scavenger. A young woman who had been waiting on Jakku, some backwater planet, for her family to come back for her. Now thrust into this war, into the position of symbolizing hope for many. She, like all living beings, had her doubts. There were vulnerabilities that she had to be hiding.

 I had many teachers, even those beyond Ip, you thought. She’s had to be on her own. And now that she has both Skywalker and Kylo… You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and lightly bit down on it. But Kylo can’t learn about Luke’s connection with Rey.

 “Tooka.” You startled at the voice that broke through your internal musings. The muscles in your legs tightened, though your torso remained more limber, allowing you to twist around with a certain amount of ease. You met the man’s gaze for but a moment prior to staring at the ground.

 The eyes were the key to the soul. At that moment, you were guarding a secret: that your mother still lived. General Armitage Hux was skilled when it came to reading others. You knew that he could read your moods. Always searching for your weaknesses. Avoiding his gaze could prove a fatal act if it was for a prolonged period. As soon as you gathered your bearings and successfully placed your mental defenses, you took a deep breath and looked his way. Acted for all the world that exhaustion had been the reasoning for your behavior.

 “General.”

 “Grand Marshal, actually.” Oh, how he loved his titles. This one caused you pause. Kylo Ren could very well be weaponizing the promotion; it would assure that Hux failed to act on plans to overthrow the new Supreme Leader until for a time. Stroke the man’s ego and he would remain content until other obstacles in his quest to obtain power were eliminated. The Resistance first of all. Unless Luke Skywalker was the foe he feared most. “And you, his wife. New names that place us under him.” Unspoken: I shan’t remain under him for very long. The Supreme Leader is dead; long live the Supreme Leader.

 You cautiously stepped forward, your eyes searching his face. His flesh was tight near his eyes. Mouth pulled into a frown. This was not gloating. Now that you were paying attention, you saw the underlying resentment that contrasted the victory such a promotion granted him over others. Others who were, ultimately, already beneath him even before Snoke had been overthrown. Grand Marshal Hux walked into the room only to pause in his steps one stride later. You wrapped your arms around your midsection, cupping your hands around the limbs to keep them busy.

 “Is the rank official yet?” you asked when silence had stretched on another fifteen seconds. He quirked an eyebrow. “You seem the sort of person who’d want a whole ceremony and parade.” The redhead barked out a laugh filled with amusement. His shoulders were still shaking when he brushed past you to peer out the window. The thoughtful hum prompted you to twist around and return to your former position, albeit this time beside the Grand Marshal.

 There would be no parade in his favor; and whether or not he wished for one, it did not matter. You observed him via your peripheral and his reflection. This took some time and effort on your part. Any time Rey or Kylo would shift, your eyes refocused, eliminating the opaque version of Hux. His attention shifted to the former Jakku scavenger on occasion, however he was predominately fixated on Kylo Ren. Armitage’s upper lip curled in unconcealed disgust and frustration. Hatred. A slight blessing for the Resistance. The newly deceased Supreme Leader Snoke had been wise to create that wedge; the pair would have overthrown him sooner. And now? Now it gave the fragmented Resistance a fighting chance to regroup.

 “It must kill you to be cooped up here.” This was not a jab at you. His voice and tone were both too soft for that. You side-eyed the man, attempting to learn his motivations. “I’m no fool, tooka. I know you are always plotting.” He gave you a once-over. “That may explain things. A subconscious realization that you needed to be kept weakened. Never enough power to overthrow him. Perhaps he was not quite so blinded by his personal interests as I had allowed myself to believe.” His chest puffed out, his nostrils flaring. Grand Marshal Hux crossed his arms behind his back and tilted his head to the side—towards you, as though you were some co-conspirator. “That won’t last once he leaves this planet, will it? You are a stubborn woman. Not that stubbornness always stems from wisdom.”

 There was the jab you had been anticipating. A weak attempt; it attacked your views without becoming too personal. His plans to overthrow Kylo Ren had a place for you. “So… We both know I’ll never give up—something I’ve said since I was first captured.” A deflection that lacked a proper closure to the conversation. Here the Grand Marshal turned his head to stare directly at you. You, on the other hand, started to watch Rey. You could see the side of her face. Her jaw tight, her eyebrow pulling inward, an indication that she was glowering in agitation at the older Force user.

 The pair outside had their similarities, but they were ultimately, drastically different from one another in key ways. Kylo possessed a selfishness that Rey did not. He had grown up with so much only to decide it wasn’t enough. Rey had owned almost nothing but made the best of it. They were bound to clash from time to time.

 Hux is witnessing this as well. He’ll want to use Rey.

 You cleared your throat, noticed the subsequent twitch that came from your companion, and confirmed the young woman had caught his attention as well. Grand Marshal Hux smirked instead of becoming flustered. He did not utter another word to you. You clenched your jaw whilst the redhead exited your room. Everyone believed they were in control. So delusional. You wanted to be in control, however that did not mean that you deluded yourself into believing that you were. You did what you could. Fought against your restraints. Made progress. It was why you did not ignore Rey.

 She had not altered her expression. It was that frustration with Ren that Hux would play upon, the same way Snoke had done to him and Kylo. In some ways, you might be forced to utilize that frustration. If that was what it took for her to correctly assist you with the lanvarok. The difference being that you would be working with her.

 Hoping that the calmness you sometimes felt from Rey worked in the reverse, you closed your eyes and tried to think of happier times. In solitary confinement, such things had helped to keep you sane.

 Instead you felt a spike of irritation that rushed through you, stabbing at the back of your head. You reeled forward. Hands shooting out, you caught yourself on the edge of the window, tough your forehead hit the glass all the same. You dropped down to your knees. Out of sight should Kylo or Rey look up in your direction. It hadn’t been a soft thud. A roll of your eyes. Inward curses. The Force was not your friend even if it existed inside of you.

 Even from your room, you could hear the front door open. It hit the wall hard enough that it was obvious it bounced back towards the individual entering. Wood meeting flesh. They caught it with their hand. Either Rey or Kylo; you were unsure which you preferred to see. As long as they separated from one another, you did not care. Light could consume darkness. Darkness could consume light. Both were difficult for you to handle. That was when you didn’t have a headache. You growled low in your throat whilst running a hand along the point of impact. Flinched at the spike of pain. Another swear left your lips, this one different from the one you had uttered when first you had injured yourself.

 Footfalls on the stairs. You held your breath to better hear their sounds. At last you identified the owner. You twisted around without rising from your spot. This allowed you to greet the young woman the moment she entered your room. Your eyes tracked her movements all the way to the bed, upon which she sat. Thankfully it was on the edge and facing you. Her lips were set in a frown that bespoke of a previous pout or snarl.

 “Are you okay?” Your inquiry was not immediately paid much heed.

 She blinked, knit her brow, and visibly thought of what you had asked her. Once the question registered, Rey drew her legs up off of the floor and crossed them while she answered. “Kylo is able to sense Master Skywalker to an extent. He knows we’ve had contact...and lying to him doesn’t completely work.” Oh how well you knew that to be true. “He said he will speak with the Knights of Ren so that they can help me… Help me while I distance myself from Skywalker. He sounded sympathetic.” So did she as she spoke. Rey did not yet want to relinquish the idea that one day Kylo Ren could turn back to the Light, however you could tell that she was realizing it was something he would have to choose to do. No one could force him.

 What were you supposed to say to that? You wished to comfort her without lying to do so. You chewed on your bottom lip while ruminating on which approach, what words, were best suited in these circumstances.

 It took you but a minute to realize you had an answer for her.

 “A grudge like what he has doesn’t fade. And… You want the Knights to trust you, to feel comfortable, I know that. I don’t know their history with Skywalker—if they have one.” Rey nodded in thought, her facial features relaxing. “Hate helps him. The Dark side feeds on it, and he’s allowed it to consume him for years. You don’t have to give up hope, Rey. We do what we can. We’ll do it together. Actions can speak louder than words. The bond you share with him might help him feel how it is to choose the Light every time that you do.”

 Just then, you were allowed to feel it. The warmth as more of Rey’s agitation faded away. She gave you a small smile. It brought to mind the question, or repetition of the question, of her capabilities with a lanvarok. How adept would she be with the weapon? Furthermore, how skilled would you be? The warmth rushed through you in waves. Just as the fears and doubt coursed through you, that sense of contentment from her helped to ease the worries.

 “Kylo wants me to train with a lanvarok,” the former scavenger said. She knew how to play ball in this court. Grand Marshal Hux and Captain Phasma would not be surprised to hear this information if they were eavesdropping. You nodded, locking gazes with the brunette. “As a polearm, I shouldn’t have much trouble. I used a staff on Jakku. And it’s impervious to lightsaber blows, which may come in handy.” Rey cupped her hands together on her lap. “There is a distance of only five meters if I practice with a different model.” The model that you would use. A frown tugged at your mouth. That wasn’t enough distance, not for your comfort. “One of the Knights has been tinkering with it, finding a way to make a hybrid so that it can be fired from a further distance.”

 The unspoken portion: there was a chance that this hybrid would never see the light of day. And where would that leave your mission? You could do it, technically speaking. They would be watching Rey’s lanvarok. Your smaller model could be concealed. Once you pulled the trigger and she took control of the projectile...no one would see it coming.

 “You have your work cut out for you.” Translation being we have our work cut out for us. She understood what you meant and nodded.

 Once you were able to study more about the target, you would grow comfortable with the task. You looked in the direction of the space heater. You had turned down the temperature, neglecting to shutdown the device until some of the tenseness in your muscles went away. That tension had lessened after your time with Urvno, and again now that you were with Rey. If only your mother could be there; you wouldn’t need the space heater at that point. The differences in opinion that you and she had did not negate the fact that it was such a relief to see her in person. To know that she was alive, that she loved you—or part of you, the part of yourself that you sometimes missed. Even with the hurt that she felt, she had made you cookies. This was proof enough that she cared. She was, in her own way, accepting the differences.

 At night, when all becomes quiet in the house and darkness surrounds the building in which you had spent your childhood, you laid in bed with your back to Kylo Ren. It was not to snub him. The man was watching you in that familiar manner. Studying not your behavior but your very existence. As though you might disappear if he blinked. A small part of you had wanted to sleep with Rey instead, to whisper and hope that no one overheard your discussion of how to handle the future mission. You were tired of being out of the game. As soon as you had settled down in bed with your husband, however, it had been easy to relax. It served as a reminder that you were smarter than that; taking needless risks would ruin everything.

 You turned around to lie on the opposite side and stare back at the Supreme Leader. This was not how you had expected your life to go. That thought reminded you of conversations you had had with him in the past. There was no fading away into reminiscing. You clung onto the present by scooting nearer to him. Kylo dipped his chin; you had slipped further underneath the covers, and your face was more in line with his neck.

 With the lights out, there was much of him that you couldn’t see. That would play in the reverse. You reached a hand out to touch the side of his face. This tangible connection that he refused to make himself. A contrast to your history with him, although you were aware of the reasoning. Reasonings, actually. He did not wish for the Grand Marshal to hear you in the throes of pleasure. Nor did he want to exacerbate the genuine exhaustion that plagued your body. Lastly, he was silently pouting over your fondness for the female Force user.

 She missed Finn. Kylo had informed you of this, substituting Finn’s name with the label of traitor. Guilt was drowned by hope, which was a relief for you. There were already far too many anchors holding you down. You would break each and every one of those chains in time.

 The flesh underneath your fingertips was harder when you touched his scar. Smooth in its own way. “I miss bedtime stories.” Back when monsters weren’t quite so real.

 Kylo embraced you with a single arm then drew you more tightly to him. You did not struggle. Closed your eyes and breathed in his scent. He smelled clean. And suddenly you thought of the ashes, the ones he had smeared across you on the day, or perhaps night, you had been reborn as his prisoner, his guest...as Tooke. What had happened to those ashes? The electronic tooke pet was on the bedside table, its settings on silent mode so that it wouldn’t keep either of you up all night. Things. Symbols. You did not want to be materialistic, that wasn’t you. It hadn’t been you, your mind corrected. Now there would always be a part of you that craved the feel of something tangible.

 He asked you why you missed the bedtime stories that you had heard growing up, and you found yourself unable to articulate your reasonings. There were countless. The few that made any sense sounded immature, childish, whimsical, foolish. You were too jaded to speak them aloud.

 “It doesn’t matter. I just do.” A soft sigh escaped him. You felt the heat of his breath on your eyelids as your lashes fluttered. His hand slipped up underneath your shirt, its palm meeting the small of your back. You rested your forehead against him, closed your eyes, and let yourself drift off to sleep.

 Morning began early for you. Urvno drew your blood for testing, and you followed both Rey and your husband to the front yard where they planned on training. Captain Phasma stood off to the side. Her helmet on as usual. The Grand Marshal, on the other hand, had his facial features exposed. The distaste in his expression when his eyes drifted to Kylo; the passing interest whenever he considered Rey. So long as Luke Skywalker remained alive, Hux knew that it was wise to keep a Force user nearby. Phasma would go along with him if it meant surviving. Together, these two could potentially eliminate Kylo Ren—and the galaxy would be all the worse for it. A First Order run by two merciless individuals. Perhaps together they had dealt with the senior Hux. Such thoughts made you sick to your stomach.

 Two Knights of Ren, one of which handed Rey a staff, joined the Supreme Leader. She would be facing multiple foes. Later on, in the absence of the triumvirate, Rey would wield the lanvarok. It was here on the planet somewhere, the polearm version that she would be in charge of.

 They started slow. Rey ducked under the swing of the taller Knight’s blade. A moment for breath then the second Knight charged her and aimed for her feet. She used the staff to give herself leverage, landed on her feet behind the Knight, and knocked one end against his back so that he stumbled. Another breath. Kylo Ren came at her with his lightsaber ignited. Having observed him on the battlefield, you instantly saw that he was holding back. There was no aggression. His movements were slow, allowing Rey to see where the blow would land so that she could catch it. Had she been wielding the lanvarok, there would have been different angles for her to use. You noticed her eyes dart to those points on the staff. It was mental work as much as it was physical.

 The training was for your benefit as well. If you were unfamiliar with how Rey handled the weapon, you would fail the mission. Maker, you wished that the Grand Marshal and chrome armored woman would leave Naboo, that they hadn’t arrived at all. It would have been easier to train. These limitations were irritants.

 But, father, you taught me patience. You relaxed where you sat. All tension in your body faded away, melting in a similar manner from back during your training with the splinter cell. Those days in solitary confinement that would have otherwise driven you insane. You taught me how to live. I’ll succeed. I won’t—I can’t disappoint you.

 Kylo Ren told Rey to use the Force on a stone that he handed to her. He wanted her to balance it in the air, to keep it afloat, as she maneuvered through another staged attack. That was a trick. Balancing one’s focus on the polearm and the disc; a staff and a rock.

 Captain Phasma remained off to the side for the duration of the training session. Grand Marshal Hux disappeared into the house three quarters of the way through. It wasn’t arrogance that made Armitage leave. He trusted Phasma to take care of whichever Force user would be of less use to them. Or to find the weaknesses of both. You were glad that the Knights did not leave Rey’s side when Kylo did.

 The man you had recently married made a gesture with his hand as he walked past you. You rose, heeding and accepting the invitation. He entered the room that he had been frequenting. Your father’s study. “He told you.” You murmured a timid response of I finally asked. There was no need to state that the First Order officer had baited you into asking. Kylo knew the redhead well enough to already know this. “How much?” Hinting at an illness, that’s all. A snort from him. Kylo twisted around, his eyes pinching in the corners. Mouth twitching into an expression of annoyance. “Would you like to know more?”

 “Yes.” You were breathless, desperate. Your husband nodded, raised a hand, and called upon the Force. There was a hidden compartment in the wall to the study. You took a step backwards when it slid open. Secrets. Kylo allowed his compassion to bleed through, stating that children were often oblivious to things they did not wish to see. Signs of illnesses. Focusing instead on the times when your father was in remission. Kylo gifted you with the comfort of privacy. You sat on the floor of the study with the files that told you your father’s true medical history, and you cried in despair and awe. Your father had been stronger than you have ever known.

 Eighty-five minutes passed before you left the solitude offered by the study. You did not want to be alone anymore, and it was not Rey that you sought. Kylo Ren was seated on the end of your bed. His elbows rested on his knees. His hands cupped together with something in his palms. His jaw was moving, though his lips remained pressed together. No sound from him until you were inside of your room with the door closed. Only then did he look up and inform you that the electronic tooke had died.

 “The battery?” you asked without pausing in your steps. Kylo shook his head. “Oh.” You did not know how you felt about that. It seemed such a small thing. Miniscule. Unimportant. It was a game that could be started over. You withdrew the device from the leather-clad hands, bent down to place the object on the floor, and rose back to your full height. Kylo Ren remained watching you. “It’s okay.” You had taken a second to assess the way your muscles felt, how strong your fatigue was. “It’s okay,” you repeated just as you sank down to your knees. His parted to make room for you. One hand immediately went to the back of your head. Its twin had met yours with freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing. He did not ask you why you wanted this. The truth? It had become a familiar sort of release that you craved whenever you experienced intense emotions. It was a connection with Kylo, who had seen your father through your eyes. You could not experience this with anyone else. Even your mother, whom you would speak with as soon as possible, couldn’t do this for you—allow you to feel as though you were floating beyond your body.

 Your mouth was wet with saliva, which instantly slicked up his length as you took him into your mouth. Ren snapped his hips forward. You shoved him back towards the bed, the hand on the back of your head bringing you along. He groaned. The sound so hungry that it sent heat through your body, down to the tips of your toes. You felt your inner walls clenching, felt the wetness of your juices in your panties. The sensation of arousal was something you wanted more than an orgasm, at least right then. That buzzing in the back of your head. It would become louder as you came then fade away. You wanted to hold onto it. Which was why you let him rise on his second attempt. Kylo fucked into your mouth, and you set your hands on his thighs while letting him control the movements of your head.

 His heavy breaths were loud, they had to be for you to hear them over the pulse in your ears. Your eyelashes fluttered. Through tears that formed as his cock slid along your tongue and towards the back of your throat, you stared up at his face. Kylo had been watching you for as long as he could before he let his head fall back. His breath hitching between gulps. He was close. Your throat bobbed each time you swallowed his cum. Only when he softened, as your tongue continued to tease his sensitive length, did he pull away.

 Kylo Ren tucked his cock away, walked around you, and helped you onto your feet long enough that he was able to get you onto your hands and knees on the bed. You delighted in the sensation of teeth nipping at your shoulder through your clothing. “I don’t want to cum,” you whispered. Tried to whisper. It was not a scream, was less than a conversational tone even, but it wasn’t a whisper.

 You knew that he understood your meaning without further explanations. One hand toyed with your breast. A gentle massage. Just enough to tease you. The other hand finding its way between your legs. Three fingers rocking back and forth, bringing you close to the edge. Then the contact was broken. Your inner walls spasmed. So close. Your body screamed at you that it was so kriffing close to release. That delicious buzz.

 “Oh...kriff...yes….” A shudder ran through your body. Arousal ebbed—and he knew it. Kylo hooked only two fingers between your legs this time, wedging them between your outer lips with ease. He manipulated the wetness in your underwear and used it to slide his fingers back and forth against your clitoris. You rocked into his touch. “Please.” Please keep prolonging this moment. Don’t let release come. Don’t let this moment end then fade away.

 He whispered your name. Your body reacted to that as well. It was almost too much. “I can give you what you want,” he purred. Air felt so thick. How could you breathe? You were panting, that was how. Panting and nodding, because he could. He could and he was. “There is no resistance.” Or was it capitalized in his statement? Was he denying your association with the Resistance? Did it matter?

 It should, a quiet voice said.

 Should did not equate to does. The name of an organization should never define its existence, shouldn’t claim to own a set of morals or views. Your mother somehow opposed both the First Order and Resistance. Two extremes?

 “I need more,” you whimpered, wanting the buzzing to return. Craving it. Needing it—it needed to drown out those thoughts. Those thoughts would otherwise make you wonder what your father would have wanted. You would never know, and you could never know. All that you knew was that he had wanted you to live, that he might have been afraid to die but he did it with a brave face. And that was what you wanted to do. You wanted to do what was right, but suddenly the galaxy wasn’t black and white with the First Order representing evil and the Resistance representing good.

 There needed to be a gray area, otherwise the war would never end.

 “More,” you cried out when Kylo did not immediately respond. He chuckled, albeit not cruelly, and kissed the side of your neck. His tongue swiped along the shell of your ear. Body pressed tightly against yours, pinning you to the mattress and toying with you. Then he showed you, once more, how skilled he was with words. Dirty whispers that brought out a: “Slow down, I’m not ready to cum.”

 “Shh, I got you,” he said, easing off. Holding onto you. Not breaking the contact, and following your lead, your needs. “We’ll do this together.”

 He may have been talking about sex, or the, or both. There had to be more than just light or just darkness. Gray. A balance. Sometimes the light was blinding. Sometimes you needed that darkness. Sometimes, you felt, you really did need him.

 “Yes...please… Please…”

[scholar-thief]

[ RP LOG ]

Momori hunts for dodos and eggs with Njorthrbiartr “Biartr” Hjallr and Caelrin Morra.

Snippets of OOC chat in italics + blockquotes, for flavor. You can assume many actions were due to just, so many bad rolls. So many bad rolls.

@s-udarshana​ @vysaldhe

Momori) australia is like a high level zone irl (Momori) everythings so dangeorus!!!!! (Momori) kangaroos like, are cute on an abstract level. but then you see one in real life, and how it has an 8 pack and is JACKED and (Biartr) they are so JACKED LMAO OMG … (Momori) my mind is racing w/ thoughts of australia. who knows what I'll write I'm a loose cannon now (Biartr) oh god kalsdfhjsd

Momori - In the wild, wind-torn lands of Abalathia’s Spine, two adventurers find themselves yalms away from vicious “Gastronis” birds. These hefty, feather-covered spheres of mass prowl the lands, searching for delicacies hidden away beneath the soil, their legs powerful enough to go from 0 to 60 in a blink of the eye. As such, they made difficult prey for the local knights, not that many wanted to go toe to toe with what were basically legs attached to a ball anyway.

Momori spots a particularly JACKED one. How that looks on a goddamn sphere is...up to you. She points at it. “Shall we start?”

Biartr | When being told about the anatomy of these birds, and observing them from the sky, Biartr hadn't guessed that they'd be so...large. On all accounts, really. Most notably, she was rather concerned by the state of their legs, canting her head to the side to get a better look. "I'll admit I have my reservations," Biartr admitted, shifting from one leg to another as she squinted slightly. "I mean I can see why the wish to eat them, at the very least."

Caelrin: "--huh. Thought I saw some folks lackin' plate strollin' about here. Strangers two, but I've seen you 'round the ship before."

Biartr was glad to quit staring at the strange...muscular legs of the gastornis, brushing loose strands of hair from her features. "Ah?" Her head canted to the side once more in thought. "The same to you -- Ah, Biartr." She gestured briefly to herself.

Momori: “Each bird is enough to feed a camp for days. How many did we have to hunt again? Ten?” Momori tilted her head slightly, not looking forward to both hunting /and/ hauling back a literal mountain of birdflesh. She then looked towards the newcomer and gave a small wave. “Hello there. I’m Momori.”

Caelrin | Sure enough - the stranger is a vaguely familiar one, a Hyur seen about camp and ship - though perhaps a brute of scarred muscle was a bit more apt in description. Dull golden eyes shed themselves keen against the features of the lalafell and viera, affable and yet observing all the while - a placid, warm smile upon tarnished features all the same. "Biartr an' Momori, then. Well met. Caelrin, Caelrin Morra. Fist of Rhalgr - Monk of Ala Mhigo."

Caelrin: "...iffin I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounds as if you two plan t' hunt."

Momori simply points at the strange ballbirds over yonder. “Ten of them, and their eggs. We were given rotten cabbages by the merchants, and hope to show goodwill by helping them with some hunting.”

Biartr inclined her head before affirming his suspicions with a short but firm nod, her golden gaze looming down only briefly. "We were unfortunate enough to strike a deal with a rather," Her shoulders rolled up and down languidly. "...Demanding trader."

Caelrin: ".....demanding trader. You two look savvy an' fierce enough to set to the hunt then, that's for certain. What stalls your intent? Waitin' for folks?"

Biartr looked towards the birds gathering, and finally back to the hyur with a slight grimace. Her voice lowered, perhaps she thought the birds could hear her. "...I've heard stories of sky pirates getting gutted from the power of their legs alone. Haven't ever seen one this...low down, admittedly."

Momori looks at the dodo’s fearsome, powerful legs, then looks back at Caelrin and Biartr. “Could go in, knives out. Maybe get punted off this plane of existence. Perhaps we could lay a trap for them instead?”

Caelrin | Of all answers to be given to such a question - given the slow, gentle rise of the brow upon Caelrin's countenance, it's clear enough to see *that* wasn't what he'd been expecting. A glance to her, and then, to Momori, before looking to the Gastornis in the distance. He's thinking. "....can't be any worse than a kick from a horse, fable or otherwise. Then again - one ain't three. Trap seems a bit too much - they ain't exactly big game."

Caelrin: "How about this - i get their attention, take the hits for you, while you two skewer as you please."

Momori: “Sounds like a lovely plan!” She gives Caelrin a pat on the back. If he was willing to bear the brunt of attacks from a herd of birds, then she would be first to jump on the idea.

Momori offers a moment of silence to Caelrin.

Biartr chewed slightly on her bottom lip, leveraging her height to her tip toes to get a look at the birds just beyong Caelrin. "They do have claws. Horses don't have claws." She had a point, at least -- and her gaze finally dropped, as did her height. "I'm not sure I could just watch you get beat pathetically by a Gastornis..." She squinted at Momori's answer, before gracing him with a rather pathetically confused look. "If I am outnumbered, then so be it."

Caelrin just sort of......stares. Rather than give into the ego of a lesser man under such scrutiny - Biartr's compassion, even if confused, earns a wry, warm smile delivered to her in mixture of reassurance and knowing. "I'm planning on it. Reckon you know not of th' faith, then - best you see it practice firsthand than me chewing your ear off with our ways. Trust me - I've taken far worse."

Caelrin: "But, iffin it puts you at ease - 's take it one at a time. Best we get the eggs first; these creatures might have materal instincts. Raid their nests, some'll come calling. Two birds with.....two eggs, I reckon."

Momori: “Oh, I’m sure ole’ Cael will be alright. Look at all the scars on ‘im! Birds will be no problem.” Momori then turns to look for a couple of birds to start with, and sees a pair nested by a tree on the top of a cliff. “Shall we?”

Biartr: "I have an idea for the eggs," Biartr interjected, raising a bone horn that was affixed to her waist. "It's entirely possible that I could ride my endymion and pick up the eggs from their nests one, or two at a time. We can fly and drop them off to a safe point."

Caelrin: ".....hrm. Hit-and-run tactics. If you reckon you an' your companion can be swift an' deft enough to do so, I see no reason for you to not try. More likely to spot nests from th' air than the ground anyways. Reckon you can handle that, while Momori an' I start setting to the birds."

Biartr: "Easily enough," She affirmed with a short nod, taking a step back to press her lips to her horn. Somewhere along the mass of tents, skirting one of the sky-islands came a purple-feathered beat. A little larger than the average endymion and of course, characterised by the muscular single foot -- swooping down to just behind the trio.

Momori takes one look at the beast and chuckles. “Gods, the size of that thing...I thought the dodos were big, but this could probably hunt them without breaking a sweat. But I’m keen on seeing Caelrin in action.”

Caelrin watches the creature with a particular interest - eyes of a man who, though having seen such beasts domesticated before, didn't quite expect to see one like this. Seems he knows well enough to keep his distance - it's no pet. With a nod, he glances to the lalafell, fists rising to clash knuckles with one another in solidarity. There's an audible *thud*, as if he'd just punched a shield. "Aye, no time to waste. Burning daylight."

Momori - The closer she got, the more...hesitant she felt. She couldn’t see beyond the chest of the bird. It looked like some awful, heaving bushel of orange feathers propped up on two legs the size of a lalafell each. Momori pulled out her two daggers...and waited for Biartr and Caelrin to give some kind of signal.

Caelrin , for one, doesn't seem daunted all that much - either by truthful discourse of having seen far worse, or merely by virtue of a firm shell of bravado. Regardless - a glance is sent in Momori's way, watching her produce her daggers before eyes train upon the bird once more - studying it, as if discerning where to strike first. He had to be humane about it....right?

Biartr | It hadn't taken long for the Veena to be seen and somewhat heard overhead. The only noise being that of the thunderous clap of the endymion's wings. The first nest that would be her target would be one teetering just on the edge of the isles. For the most part, the gastornis surrounded it seemed happily nesting until she had gone near -- at least it was a welcome distraction away from the other two.

(Momori) just start.... stabbing with me toothpicks?!? (Caelrin) KEK (Caelrin) also - are we rolling to attacks these or is it just. freeform killin (Biartr) Tenderise the meat and you'll be doing them a favour at the very least (Momori) oh man. if people play pokemon (Momori) fighting type is bad against flying right? (Momori) HHA (Caelrin) do you think these things fly (Biartr) dfjghdkfg (Biartr) and i don't mind rolls or free form, it *would* be funny to add a random element to it (Momori) if doduo is flying then ????????? (Caelrin) yeah i'm cool either way, i just wanna know before i have caelrin start things off (Caelrin) cool with it* (Momori) I'll roll, because RNG is fun :D (but will just use it as a rough guide of how things go)

Caelrin: ".....ah, hells with it," grunts the monk. Fists angle down and behind to the ground, and a low stance is taken before aether, in vicious jets, erupt and clash to produce force that sends Caelrin violently into the air before the gastorinis - only for him to aim to crash down upon it with a powerful axe kick.

Biartr | The endymion takes the first swoop down towards the nest, its powerful leg aiming to grab at the egg. Unfortunately for the bird, egg and Veena at once - its leg is perhaps a little /too/ powerful and during the lifting process, it manages to crush the egg rather carelessly. From overhead, a barrage of cursing can be heard.

Momori - While the birds are distracted by Biartr and Caelrin, Momori dashes in, daggers drawn. She mounts the back of one of the birds and becomes a whirlwind of stabs, but the whole attack is more akin to a kitten desperately trying to cause damage to a much larger foe. The bird pays more attention to the chaos Caelrin is causing.

Caelrin | With the first bird having assumedly been easily dispatched - Caelrin gets into it, now that the herd has sufficiently been aggroed. The monk is deft and fluid in his motions, focusing upon the next closest bird - it's almost comically how easily he fells it, a vicious aethercharged hook to his beak, leaving neon-violet aether in its wake, puts it down as if he were knocking out a drunkard.

Biartr | For the second round, the endymion swoops in to grab the next egg within the nest. A change of tactics, it seemed, throwing the egg up towards Biartr. The Veena manages to catch it, quite perfectly before it quite literally explodes in her grasp, leaving her covered in egg-toplasm.

Momori - Meanwhile, the dodo Momori is riding squawks! Once, then twice! It then dashes off, Momori hanging for dear life on its back, her screams growing faint as it gets further and further away. The speed is eventually too much and she tumbles off, disappearing into the tall grass.

Momori: "..............................." She gets up, the whole front of her covered in mud and tuffs of grass.

(Biartr) Benny hill theme music intesifies (Biartr) intensifies** (Momori) I need the playdead emote after all this (Momori) haha benny hill theme music BLARES and destroys headphone users

Caelrin | Two birds down - and yet, despite being so focused, Caelrin is much too occupied in the witnessing of Momori tumbling down and out over the dirt that the focus drops for just a second.  Not even a chance is had for him to accost the third bird, just watching as it rears back - only to peck him in the chest! Certainly doesn't draw blood, but the force of it produces a tough grunt and a backstep.

Biartr | This time, third time lucky? Right? Wrong. Biartr and her endymion swoop down a third time, only to be met by a rather territorial gastornis. The endymion's muscular claw picks up the would-be attacker as opposed to the egg. It's at least something that could be used to a form of advantage, and Biartr directs the bird higher, where it would drop the gastornis from a great height. It plummets to the isle not far from the duo, dead upon impact.

Momori tosses a dagger at one of the Gastornis, and the blade flies straight and true. It buries itself deep in the neck of the bird, ending its life swiftly. She wipes the mud from her eyes, steps over, and wretches the dagger out from the corpse without batting a lash. That was more like it - now, who’s next?

Caelrin | Who's next? The poor gastornis that's just pecked Caelrin square in the chest. With a clashing of fists and a grunt, the aether within, a sickly, violent, violet aether stokes, swelling muscle and shading over flesh and flaring like neon within veins. With particular speed a force, he seizes the bird by the literal beak with a single hand, heaving and throwing it down into the ground like a hulk would a trickster god.

Biartr had many an excuse for this situation. Namely, the fact that she didn't half-drown her head in a vat of ceruleum. Now that her endymion was finished trashing an entire nest, she ground both of their progress to a halt and stepped off the bird in the middle of the peninsula. Both of her hands dipped into the bright blue paint in a contained on her belt - and she practically painted her entire face blue with ceruleum. The woman now smelling like an engine room, and possibly glow in the dark.

Momori - Some dodos surround Caelrin, pecking and dodging. Others run around in dumb circles, kicking up dust and adding to the overall chaotic ENTROPY of the whole ordeal. Under the cover of mud and grass, Momori leaps deftly into the air and lands on the top of another bird, blades sinking down on where she stands. Another one down. The sight of something purple catches her eye, and she witnesses Caelrin go hulk on a Gastornis. Weird? Something to ask about later? Yes.

Caelrin | With the poor bird left in a small, feather-lined crater - now it was time to adapt and fight against one's surroundings. Peck and dodge as they may, combat aqgainst beasts was a specialty of Caelrin's, and pecks are weaved through or land uselessly against powerful arms or iron-like muscle. Another bird bites the dust with retaliation, as a streaking overhead fist hammers down firmly upon its cranium - followed with an audible *crunch*.

Biartr | The somewhat lost-looking Viera had now a certain fierceness about her, if you could see her once more in the sky. She had stood herself on the back of the endymion, who had swooped towards the second nest, grabbing the egg neatly within its clutches. It leant towards the side with its swoop, allowing the Veena to pick up an egg within her grasp too. The two flying briefly off to deposit the eggs within Cloudtop.

Momori slides under a bird, dragging her blade through as she moves between its legs. As it collapses, she quickly turns back and gives it another good stab near the neck, as to end its suffering quickly. How many was that now? Seven?

(Momori) cromch (Momori) god that sound. I'm thinking of that video where someone bites a banana horizontally and it makes just, the worst sound (Biartr) N O (Caelrin) HELLO? (Momori) IS. IS THAT THE SOUND?? (Caelrin) IDK WHAT YOU MEAN (Momori) here I will show you (Biartr) im trying to find the video dkfgdf (Caelrin) wow i REALLY HATE THIS (Caelrin) but no not quite the sound (Momori) that cronch sound is burned in my memory (Biartr) perhaps just speed it up a bit to 2x (Biartr) and that's the sound (Biartr) anyway im going to eat my keyboard (Momori) ahaha PLS

Biartr | Its perhaps not the sun for Biartr and her endymion. The purple-feathered 'friend' comes into contact with the third nest and only a horrid 'squelch' can be heard as the two overzealously destroy all of the eggs and the single inhabitant within it into a mushed pulp.

Caelrin | Seven, eight - frankly, Caelrin stopped counting after the second. His focus remains firmly upon seeing the herd cleared and brought to rest, even that which was eternal. Despite this, the assault continues from the last few present, and Caelrin endures with the same defense and speed he had at first - though the birds are starting to pelt a little more fiercly. Maybe avenging their fallen brethren - or all those eggs. He's handling it well, though.

(Momori) so. so many eggs exploded (Momori) f (Biartr) Biartr out here looking like boo boo the fool (Caelrin) should've put on clown makeup (Biartr) peels off her flesh to reveal a full clown suit with make up (Momori) dfjsldjfkls jfSDJFSDKJ

Momori hears something behind her, and she whips her head around. The motion is too fast though, and her hair slaps right onto her eyes. Momentarily blinded, something hits her on the back and sends her flying through the air, right towards Caelrin.

Caelrin | Momori may have despaired - but rest assured, with a monk on the team, she's in good hands. Literally; she's been *caught*, a reactionary movement made to preserve himself and her. With a huff, he promptly tosses her like a football to the nearest bird to continue the attack, while he occupies himself with another satisfying crunch of a gastornis cranium.

Momori - The bird catches Momori.

Biartr | Despite being out of practice for the traditional 'hunt' that Biartr was accustomed too, perhaps she was getting back into the hang of it. Somewhat, at least. Once more, the Veena and her mount swoop down into a nest and carry off two eggs back towards the Camp. There is an air of chaos to it, as the gastornis attempt to trample (read: follow) the egg-snatchers.

Momori - Lalafell under wing, the bird sprints to its nest and slam dunks Momori into it. Touchdown! Momori is just, done. She lets it happen. Dead inside eyes gaze to the sky.

Caelrin | Nevermind. She *isn't* in good hands, for she is now in a nest. Unfortunately, the said bird finds itself sideways and slackened as a vicious dropkick is loosed into its flank - seeing it skid along and through dirt and rock to its death in retaliation. Not quite a slam dunk, but - it's a goal. Goal. Goal. GOOOOOOALASSOOOOOOOOO

Biartr | It's not a great time. It's an awful time. The next set of nests Biartr and her endymion race for are the ones precariously teetering on the edge. Except, now they're not on the edge and are dropping into the clouds below. Ooft.

(Biartr) Roblox oof. (Caelrin) do the eggs also explode mid-fall (Momori) HAHHA (Biartr) :pensiveclown: (Biartr) we'll go with no and see if we can salvage it with a /good/ roll. (Caelrin) also actually how many birds have we killed (Caelrin) is it like....8 or 9 (Momori) I think 10?? or 9. But we can round up (Caelrin) 9.7 birds > Biartr literally rolls a 1  (Momori) OH My god!!!! (Biartr) BYE (Momori) this is MOMENTUOUS (Biartr) im laughing so hard rn (Caelrin) : ) (Caelrin) the endymion releases an egg - it explodes as soon as it's out (Biartr) ????

Momori sits up in the nest, in time to see a bird crash into a rock. Absolute chaos. She looks up, eyes searching for Biartr and her companion. Something in her gut tells her that she better be watching.

Biartr | Biartr's concern for Calerin getting gutted by a muscle-leg flightless bird was misplaced. Especially now that she was somewhat over-hulked on the mix of ceruleum and paint on her face. Her endymion flies off, for now, but Biartr appeared to have been dropped amongst the piles of birds. Or moreso, thrown - her body skidding through the mud in a dirty, yolky, blue-faced mess. Nice job.

(Biartr) ah I also don't have /playdeadon this character (Momori) splot (Caelrin) roblox death sound (Caelrin) also who's Calerin (Biartr) hello darkness my old friend (Momori) long lost twin (Momori) evil dark twin (Caelrin) Calerin Moarr (Biartr) his more attractive sister (Biartr) biartr: overjuiced on paint. me: overjuiced on coffee (Caelrin) LMAO (Caelrin) aight one last roll since i think this bird be the last yeah? (Momori) sounds good!! (Biartr) :) (Biartr) biartr is gonna have to just end up being "Look guys I am actually really cool okay please beliEvE ME"

Momori silently stares at Biartr, gaze flat and serious. But seconds later, she bursts into a laughter so powerful she topples over on the floor. A bird comes over and sits on top of her as if she were an egg, and the sound of laughter is muffled by several layers of feather.

Caelrin | Biartr's concern for Caelrin getting gutted by a muscle-leg flightless bird may have been misplaced, certainly; after all, given all the carnage on the ground, as well as the beaten and slain birds with crushed heads and perforated necks, it's clear the two are handling themselves well. One bird left - and that is all it takes for Caelrin to lose focus long enough to watch Biartr faceplant into the dirt and mud. Nice job. Instinct has him rushing to move to her - but he takes his eyes off his prey long enough for the very same bird that sits on Momori to kick the monk squarely in the stomach, raking as well. A flash of red and a few ilms driven back. Okay, yeah - it's got a kick.

Biartr merely stares flat-out, looking at the sky - the only movement is the heavy rise and fall of her chest. For a moment she moves the spear off her back, throwing it towards the duo in a hope she'd at least skewer a bird, only for the spear to fall short and plant into the ground shy of the target near Cael.

(Caelrin) ......does the tail of the spear have a sharp end too (Biartr) it does! just shorter than the usual (Caelrin) e x e c u t i o n t i m e.

Momori can’t hear what’s happening. What’s going on? In the warm darkness she’s trapped under, she fumbles about, hands searching for her daggers..which she doesn’t find. No, the bird seems to tell her. It is egg time. Time to be egg.

Caelrin | Momori will not be egg. Not today - not this time. Like being birthed from the womb for a second time, the lalafell is thrown into the world of light and air as the bird is quite *literally* pulled off of her and lifted into the air with bared teeth and a low snarl. He's clearly fed up with all of this - and tempers his frustrations accordingly with due justice. Biartr's spear is just nearby, waiting like a pole - and just like that, the monk slams the bird upon its tail-end with force.

Caelrin | Skewered - unfortunately, not a good kebob. Still raw and feathered.

Biartr continues to lie deathly still amongst the grass and bird corpses. There is likely a thought process of if she lays there still and long enough, she'll be forgotten about. The Veena is hoping, at least.

Caelrin: "--Biartr!" calls the monk, who's patting down his front with gauntlets as that peculiar violet aura begins to fade, drifting away with particles bleeding into the wind. Sorry - you're still here. "You alright over there?"

Momori doesn’t say. A word. She picks up her daggers.Then, a bird. Wordlessly starts making a pile of their bodies. She additionally steps over to Biartr, and waves a hand over her eyes. “...Shall we carry you back as well?”

Biartr continues to stare at the clouds overhead. She is plain-faced and taking a deep breath. "You can leave me here." There's a half-smile, though her brows are in knots and speak an otherwise rather frustrating story.

Momori cracks a mud-caked smile at Biartr. “This was certainly.......exciting.....Let us not speak of this in detail.”

Caelrin: "........I'll keep me lips locked an' shut real tight," the monk remarks, having moved over to join the two - considerably less dirt-coated as the two of them.

Caelrin: "Did good work either way, methinks. 's ten birds, and.....however many eggs you got before you...took your fall."

Biartr continues to lay flat-out, though her gaze at least lifts to dead-stare at the two of them. "Four eggs." She paused, gesturing to herself. "Five if I'm put over the campfire."

Caelrin: "Be a real cruel merchant indeed if he decided to accept scrambled Viera on top of all we're to recover."

Momori nods. “At least the merchants will be pleased. And no one is injured, though our egos find themselves devastated. Nothing a little merry-making can’t fix.”

Biartr: "I've had more flattering moments, admittedly." She sighed, pushing herself to her feet, a hand wiping away the mixture of egg and paint near her eyes.

Momori: “I’ll go carry over all the birds, and wash off. See you back at camp?” She gives a small wave, and busies herself with bird delivery.

Biartr: "Of course, thanks for keeping up the bargain."

Caelrin | "....merry-making to be had indeed, after all of this chaos," the monk chuckles, canting his head all the while as a glance is sent back over the shoulder to observe the handwork. With Momori's bidding, he offers a nod and parting wave. "--aye, be safe. See you back at camp."

[guilty-pleasures-abound]

Friends to lovers, Ford/reader?

This is basically a full-fledged fic, not a drabble. I’m justifying it by pointing out that it also fulfills the “bed sharing” trope request from another anon.

Also for @ocxanman​, sorry I didn’t read your prompt correctly the first time!

You couldn’t believe your luck, getting assigned to be Stanford Pines’ lab partner. He was the pride of Backupsmore, he was the student the teachers raved about, he was the crazy guy rumored to be going for twelve phds. If anyone was going to take your chemistry class seriously, it was him.

What you didn’t expect was how charming you found him. He was a workaholic and a socially awkward nerd, to be sure, but there was just something about him that was so damn interesting. Long after your shared chemistry class was over, you found yourselves spending time together; studying, seeing movies (when you could manage to pull Ford away from his books), eating meals together (more often than not, you were sneaking a plate into the library to make sure he didn’t forget).

You could occasionally coax him over to your dorm, bribing him with jelly beans if he just let you both study somewhere comfortable for once! He was generally accepting of the idea until he realized that if he dozed off, you wouldn’t wake him to keep studying.

“You just want me to fall asleep,” he said when you asked this time, a raised eyebrow arched in your direction, arms folded in resistance to the idea.

“I would never,” you gaped, hand spread over your heart in mock indignation. “I want to fall asleep.”

That drew a little smile out of him against his will, which you counted squarely as a victory. “Come on, Pines, a change of scenery from the library will do you good.”

He finally agreed with an exasperated sigh, after asserting that if you were lying about the jelly beans he’d find a way to sabotage your advanced physics final. You didn’t doubt that he meant it.

Ford arrived at your door later that evening, and once safely pacified by the bag of jelly beans presented to him with a flourish, he settled on the floor so he could spread all his books out in a circle around him.

Then comfortable silence; just the rustle of paper, the light scratch of pens, and the occasional click of the jelly beans jostling together as Ford scooped small handfuls out of their bag.

Admittedly, you were having a hard time concentrating. You could tell that Ford had showered before coming over; his face was freshly shaved, his hair clean and fluffy, and you had a feeling when you hugged him goodbye later (whether that was tonight or tomorrow remained to be seen) he would smell pleasantly like soap.

You didn’t know when you had started to notice things like that; the color of Ford’s shirts, when he showered, when he cut his hair or shaved his face. You tried not to admit it, tried not to think about it too much, but somewhere between “nice to meet you" and the first time he accidentally stayed the night in your dorm, you had developed a truly terrible crush on one Stanford Pines.

One Stanford Pines who, as you had hoped, started dozing off around one in the morning.

He had made the fatal mistake of lying down on his belly, arms tucked under his chin. You noticed he was falling asleep by the way his head was drooping off to the side, his breath deepening, making you smile a little.

You got up quietly, tiptoeing around his books and leaning down to carefully remove his glasses. He snuffled, but thankfully didn’t wake.

You were more than ready to call it a night anyway, so you got ready for bed and turned off the lights. If you didn’t trust Ford not to ignore your insistence on going back to his dorm to sleep not study, you would have woke him; but you knew he would be up until at least four pouring over books if left unsupervised.

So on the floor he’d stay, and if he got a stiff neck it would be his own damn fault for being a sleep-deprived dummy that refused to rest when he should.

Around three, you woke up to the feeling of weight on your mattress, startling the crap out of you.

“Shit!” you heard Ford’s familiar voice hiss, the weight leaving the mattress again, and the clumsy thunk of him tripping over one of the various books he had left on the floor.

You fumbled for the bedside table’s lamp, clicking it on and squinting in the sudden light to find Ford doing much the same; squinting and looking disoriented as the illumination reminded him where he was.

“Shit,” he said again, rubbing both hands over his eyes then back into his hair. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I forgot where I was, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you interjected, just barely suppressing a yawn. “Really, Ford, not a big deal.”

“Right,” he mumbled, squinting still as he looked around; you were guessing trying to find where you had stashed his glasses. “Right, I’ll just head out, sorry to wake you—well, sorry I fell asleep, I shouldn’t have—”

What you said next was a gamble, but you were going to take it. “For fuck’s sake, Pines, just crash here.”

You shuffled over, wedging your back against the wall to leave a space on the narrow mattress for him, your heart pounding nervously in your chest. It was a bold move, you had to admit; most people didn’t just casually share a bed, especially not a little twin-sized dorm mattress.

Ford stared at you for several long moments, his mouth opening, then closing once before he let his breath out through his nose.

“Are you… sure?”

“Yeah man, of course I’m sure. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not sending you back across campus, and I’m not about to force you to sleep on the floor. I only left you there earlier because I didn’t want you trying to wake yourself up to get back to studying.”

“I knew it! You did only invite me here in the hopes I would fall asleep early!”

“For Christ’s sake, scold me in the morning, will you just lay down already?”

That shut him up, Ford biting his lip before finally giving a tiny nod, making your heart pick up tempo a little. Then he was lying down, reaching over to turn off the lamp, and plunging you back into darkness.

Ford had agreed to share a bed with you. The sheer amazement at that fact finally dawned on you. He could have remained on the floor, or insisted on going back to his own place, middle of the night be damned, but Ford had chosen to stay. Here. With you. Laying mere centimeters away on a narrow college dorm room mattress.

For a little while it made you too nervous to sleep; trying to parse if this really meant what you thought (hoped, prayed) it meant. But after twenty minutes of neither of you moving or speaking, you felt drowsiness starting to set back in, and the next thing you knew, you were fast asleep.

The next time you woke up, however, there was a heavy arm draped over your waist, and Ford’s soft, slow breathing against the back of your neck.

Ho. ly. Shit.

What should I do? you thought. If he hadn’t meant to do it, he might get all flustered and weird. If he had meant to do it, would it be wildly inappropriate to kiss the living daylights out of him…?

You opted to just stay still, and wait to see what Ford would do when he woke up.

You didn’t have to wait long, Ford taking a deep breath in as he pulled slowly out of sleep barely a half hour later. He didn’t seem to realize you were awake, and you made absolutely no move to alert him.

He was still for a moment, just breathing, and you weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t realize who he was cuddled up to. He waylaid that uncertainty when he gave a soft sigh, and you felt the barest press of lips to the back of your neck before he began to withdraw his arm painstakingly slowly in his attempt not to wake you.

“Stay,” you whispered, unable to stop yourself from laying your hand over his, keeping his arm around your waist.

His sharp intake of breath told you that you had startled him, his body frozen stiff behind you in a panic, but you just squeezed his hand and tilted your head back slightly toward him.

“Stay,” you repeated in a whisper.

A few more tense moments, time seeming to come to a crawl, before the tension left Ford’s body, his shaky breath warm on the back of your neck.

“Are you certain?” he murmured, sounding shocked and awed that you wanted him there.

“Of course I am,” you replied, feeling color come to your face.

Silence, just the sound of Ford’s breath right behind you, then he shifted, pushing up on his elbow so he could look down at you in the weak light sneaking past the blinds.

He murmured your name, bringing your gaze to his, the two of you just looking at each other for a moment. With a sudden stroke of bravery, you reached up to cup the back of his head, pulling him down for a kiss you had been wanting for far too long.

Ford gave a little gasp, then he was melting into it with a soft moan, that perfect little sound flooding you with sharp yearning.

“I didn’t dare hope—” he tried to pull his lips away to whisper, prompting you to wiggle around in his grip until you were flat on your back and pulling him down flush against you.

“Me either,” you murmured, combing your fingers through his hair with one hand as the other wrapped around his amazing shoulders. “Fuck, Ford, I have such a crush on you.”

His cheeks pinked, but the next kiss he pressed to your lips was so warm with intent it made you hot all over.

“Let’s skip class,” you whispered to him. “Kissing you is a lot nicer.”

His surprised chortle made you grin, the two of you looking at each other with content amusement.

You knew he’d never allow you to skip lecture, nerd that he was, but maybe you’d convince him to forgo studying quantum physics tonight in favor of… anatomy.

[fxckingfinan]

Riddle me This (1/?)

Pairing: Detective!Bucky x Detective!Reader

Summary: Reader is a Detective along side her partner Bucky Barnes, stuck on a case that ends up a little more than they bargained for. She never expected a normal Tuesday to turn into months of consuming work. She never expected to be the target of a riddle obsessed serial killer, and she sure as hell never expected to fall in love in the midst.

Next

Warnings: Death, slightly graphic descriptions of wound

Word count: 1258

A/n: I’m on mobile and I can’t do a read more link and for that I am truly sorry

—

Y/n sighed as her partner pulled up to a small town house, smack dab in the suburbs of Brooklyn. She took notice of the bustling streets, squinting her eyes before glancing at her partner.

“Seems a little busy for murder” she quipped stepping out of the suv, eyes trailing over the abundance of civilians.

“You say that like there’s a correct time for it.” Bucky replies, a smirk adorning his face as he too moved to get out of the vehicle. A wide smile fell over her own face as she rolled her eyes jokingly, continuing into the building with her partner in tow. They shared a quick look before Y/n met the eyes of their captain. She let a slightly softer smile than before grace her face in an attempt to stay professional.

“Morning Cap, what do we have today?” Her voice was awkwardly formal, causing a look of discomfort to come over Steve’s face. He was newly promoted to Captain, give or take a few months on the job. At one point he was a just fellow detective, having formed close bonds with both Bucky and Y/n. Though he always liked to keep professionalism at the top priority, it sounded weird coming from her having been friends for so long.

“What am I your grandfather? Losen up Y/n, you know I hate formalities with you.” A scoff left his mouth, tilting his head back as his arms raised up into almost a shrug.

“Yeah yeah whatever you say Steven.” Y/n waved her hands around dismissing his statement. That was something she was always good at, keeping the playfulness alive no matter the setting. Sometimes it was a blessing, and other times it was a curse. She let her eyes pass around the room in search of what she assumed would be a body, stopping when she reached exactly that. Motioning her hand towards the victim she kept her voice steady, “Were you able to contact any family?” It always was a great big tug at the heart strings to see the different types of crime scenes, but she tried to keep a strong face while on the job.

“No,” Steve sighed, “Victim isn’t in any database. That means no emergency contacts, no family known. She’s basically a Jane Doe.”

“No ID or anything for a name?” Bucky questioned, face and voice stoic. Y/n took notice of the change in his mood, just like she always notices on every crime scene they’ve worked together. She liked to assume it was to keep up a tough guy facade. She also liked to assume she brought out the softer side to him.

“We found an ID, she just doesn’t have any known family. Kind of sad.” Y/n continued towards the body as Steve spoke, slapping on a pair of rubber gloves before further investigating.

Making mental notes in her head she evaluated the situation. No forced entry, no signs of real struggle, no DNA other than the victims. There was nothing. Not even a partial print or strand of hair left behind. If it weren’t for the blood spatter pointing to a clear conclusion of murder she would assume the body wasn’t here to begin with. Placed specifically like a picture on a wall.

“Alright let’s see here.” Bucky started, a pair of rubber gloves also adorning his larger hands. He gently poked and prodded at the body in front of them, lightly turning the head to the side to reveal a clean two inch long cut at the back of the neck. Moving to look further down the body, he didn’t notice any other wounds. No bruises, cuts, or scratches could be found on the body. “What are you thinkin’ guys?” Steve asked finally, breaking the two from their individual thoughts.

“Considering the condition of the body, I don’t think this is your average case of a crazed ex looking for revenge. It’s methodical almost,” Y/n let her fingers trace the cut without actually touching the body, “well thought out, no obvious bruising or trauma to the body. Almost like they were trying to preserve it. We’re either dealing with someone whose done their research or this isn’t their first walk through the park.”

“She’s right. There no hesitation to the wounds. Clean cut and to the point, in such a place where he had to know what he was doing. He had to be confident to get the job done with a single wound.” Bucky added, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood to his full height.

“Exactly. Her carotid artery is severed, and due to the anatomy of the neck that’s not exactly easy peasy. You need clean, direct lateral pressure. If the victim was struggling there’s no way the perp coulda achieved this.” Y/n nodded, Bucky and herself further bouncing ideas off of each other. One of the many reasons they worked so well together was their ability to easily build off of what the other was saying. They’d both been in the field for a while solving cases on their own, so when they were assigned to partner up it was no surprise to anyone they were able to solve twice as many cases in a record amount of time.

“So maybe she didn’t resist. Maybe she was unknowingly cooperative. Maybe she trusted them.” He looked at Y/n to gauge her reaction, receiving a small smirk in return.

“And bingo was his name-o”

Steve sighed yet again before cutting in, “Alright well if you two are done I’m gonna get forensics in here, though you two already seemed to have done their job.”

“Sorry Rogers, forensic background.” Y/n shrugged, “We’ll see you at the station Captain.” She glanced at the body again as Steve walked away, ready to leave herself until something caught her eye. The stark white of the object contrasting the victims hair. How hadn’t they noticed this being so up close less than five minutes ago? “Actually Buck, why don’t you go ahead to the car I’ll be right there.”

“Alright doll, don’t take too long. I was thinkin’ we hit up that old diner on the way back to the station.” Bucky replied, passing her a strange look before turning around to walk out the door. Y/n mumbled a quick ‘mhm’ before looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to her before coming to the conclusion they weren’t.

Her brows furrowed as she crouched to get a closer look, going in to pull out with gloved hands what seemed to be a tattered piece of paper. Her guess was found to be correct as she flipped the small scrap around in her fingers. Small words could be seen typed out onto it, confusing her further as she quietly read the words to herself.

“It brings back the lost as though never gone, shines laughter and tears with light long since shone; a moment to make, a lifetime to shed; valued then but lost when your dead. What is It?” Her eyes strained as she read the impossibly tiny words, flickering across the paper rabidly. “A riddle?”

“Y/l/n what are still doing here?” Steve spoke from across the room, his unintentionally stern voice drawing attention to her crouched down figure.

“Nothing Captain, just leaving now” she spoke with just as much conviction before dropping her voice to herself, continuing to slip the piece of paper into her pocket before looking around.

“Nothing at all.”

[psychospeak-blog]

Won’t Go Slowly // 28

One // Two  // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen// Twenty // Twenty One // Twenty Two // Twenty Three // Twenty Four // Twenty Five // Twenty Six // Twenty Seven

A/N: Sorry it’s late!

One of the great things about working in academics, in your opinion, was the fact that you got extended holiday breaks.  You were spending most of your days hanging around the house with Marshall in your pajamas, going for a nice evening walk in the snow (usually still in your pajamas), taking breaks from the organizing and measuring of your office to look at baby furniture and watch movies, usually watching Grey's Anatomy over the phone with Tyler before bed.  Basically, the only thing you had to get dressed for these days was your prenatal yoga class and, even then, you were just wearing yoga clothes, so it was pretty much pajamas.

Today, though, however, you'd actually put clothes on because you and Marshall had a errand to run.  He was sitting in the passenger seat, sitting up like he was a human, and you got some interesting looks and laughs as you drove.  He looked so happy with himself though, that you couldn't resist taking a picture when you were at a stop light, sending it to Tyler.  Marshall started cowering, however, when you drove towards town, and you suspected he thought he was going to the vet again.

"It's okay, we're going someplace fun," you reassured him, although he still looked doubtful when you pulled into the parking lot.  You definitely knew that he'd been to a pet store when he was a puppy, because you'd been with him a couple of times when Tyler needed to grab dog food, but you weren't sure if he'd actually been to a pet store as an adult dog who you couldn't pick up anymore.  The good thing was that he was pretty well-behaved and even-keeled, so you biggest worry would probably be him taking out a shelf of items with his wagging tail.  

It was pretty humorous watching his eyes widen once you opened the door to the store as if he'd never seen such an incredible place before.  He looked up at you, like he wasn't quite sure he was even allowed to go inside but, once you told him he could, he stepped inside and started sniffing immediately.

"Hi," the girl behind the counter said brightly, her eyes cast downwards, "What's your name?"

You answered for him, and her eyes flicked up to yours again.  "Can he have a treat?"

When he heard the word 'treat', Marshall immediately sat down, and then started swiping at the air, trying to show off his ability to shake a paw.  "Yes," you said with a laugh, and she came out from around the counter, crouching down in front of him.

"I didn't have to ask you to sit," she said, giving him two treats, which he took happily.  Afterwards, she asked you what if you needed help finding anything, and you said you told her you were just looking for Christmas presents, so she left you to browse.  

You went to the Christmas section first, because they needed Christmas toys, in your opinion. You chose a Christmas tree that looked pretty chew proof for Gerry, and a soft reindeer for Marshall because he liked to cuddle with his toys. You were picking out a penguin with a squeaker for Cash, when you noticed a box of candy cane dog treats.  And then you got an awesome idea, and added it to the collection that you were creating.

And then you went to look in the regular toy section, picking Gerry out a puzzle toy that you could put treats inside that would hopefully keep him occupied because he'd apparently been having some....behaviour issues lately, and you found a toy that looking like skipping rocks for the pool or lake for Cash (and that Tyler would probably enjoy, too).  You were just deciding on a ball for Marshall that you could kick and throw and that also floated on water, when your phone pinged with a text from Tyler.

Tyler: Are you taking my dog on a date?

Tyler: Make sure he pays

Tyler: He'll probably try to get in your bed after just fyi

You laughed to yourself, and then you realized, that while you had a collection of presents for his dogs, you had absolutely no idea what to get for him.  Nothing seemed quite right, and you wondered if maybe you should try to do things differently this year.  You'd already gotten gifts for the pups, who were really easy to impress, and you knew Tyler had stuff for the baby.  So, maybe, you could just exchange Christmas presents between your "kids" for this year.  It wasn't like there was anything either of you needed, anyways.  

With your six toys and the holiday dog treats, you went to the check out counter, the woman from earlier before looking over all of your purchases and smiling down at Marshall.  "Someone's a lucky boy," she said, as she started to ring everything through.

"Oh, they're not all for him," you said, "For his brothers, too."

"How many brothers does he have?"

"Two," you answered, and before she could ask said, "All labs."

"Three labs?" she asked, and you noticed her glance at your belly, so you instinctively rubbed it, "that must be a busy household."

You opened your mouth, and then shut it again, because you weren't about to start explaining that they weren't your dogs.  "It is," you said, "But there's a lot of love, too."

"I'll bet," she said, bagging up all your purchases.  "Have a Merry Christmas, guys."

You were so overtaken by the Christmas spirit and all the decorations at the shopping plaza that you decided to stop at Starbucks for a holiday themed drink, and got a puppaccino for Marshall, which he devoured in the car.

When you got home, you contemplated calling Tyler, but you couldn't remember whether he had a game tonight or not.  And then you remembered the internet.

You crashed on the couch as the phone was ringing, to which Tyler answered, "So, did he kiss you?"

You didn't know what he was talking about, until you remembered the text he sent you in the store.  "Yes," you answered, "With tongue."

"That's aggressive," Tyler said, and then, "Hang on, babe, one sec."

You were expecting him to set the phone down while he did something, but instead you heard him say in a stern voice.  "Gerry, stop that.  Those are expensive shoes."

You heard a shuffling noise and then a sigh.  "Sorry," he said, "someone is acting like a two year old."

"Well, isn't he?"

"Not in dog years," he said, and then, in his dog voice, "Oh, and now you want to cuddle with me, huh? Are you sorry for what you did?"

You shook your head, laughing.  "I had a question," you said, "About Christmas."

"Santa's real," Tyler said, "Don't let anybody tell you otherwise."

You snickered, laying back on the couch and running a hand through your hair.  "No, I was wondering if maybe you and I could not exchange Christmas gifts this year?"

" Why?" Tyler whined.

" Because, I know you already got stuff for the baby..."

"So? You always get presents for me and the dogs.  I'm not allowed to get you a present, too?"

" Tyler, I just don't think we should --""

"Well, it's too late," he said, "I already have your present."

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling you," he said, "That'd defeat the whole purpose of a present."

Obviously.  But you really just needed an idea of what it might be so you could get a comparable gift.  "Is it something for the baby?"

"Mmmnope, that's separate," he said, "Well, kind of, I guess, in a way."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you might enjoy it while you're pregnant.  But it's just for you," he said, "And it's not what you might think, either."

"What?" You questioned.  You definately hadn't hinted that there was anything you wanted because there wasn't.   

"I mean, I understand if you want a vibrator, but I don't really feel comfortable buying that for you.  It's kind of personal thing."

"Tyler!" You yelled, in shock that he had just said that.  But, in all honestly, you shouldnt be that suprised. "Seriously...."

He laughed loudly.  When he was done, he said, "It's just a little something.  You don't have to freak out or anything."

You sunk back into the couch, even more if possible.  "I don't know what to get you."

"You don't have to get me anything for Christmas," he said, "you can just get me twice as many presents for my birthday, it's fine."

"If you're getting me something for Christmas, then I'm getting you something for Christmas," you said, "What do you want?"

"A really big hug?"

"Tyler..."

"Uhh..."  he make a noise like he just fell back into the couch.   "Honestly, I'd be really happy if you baked me some cookies. Like, a whole tin I can take back with me and not have to share."

You were about to respond when you heard a knocking noise, and then a ruffle of paws against the floor.  "Hey, babe, I gotta head out for dinner," he said, and then after you said "okay", he added, "With some of the guys.  I'll call you later, okay?  If Gerry doesn't eat my entire house while I'm gone.  Cash, you're babysitting."

After you said goodbye, you laid your head back, looking up at Marshall sitting at the under end of the couch, staring at you.  "What do you think I should get for your Dad?" you asked, and he just tilted his head, still staring at you.  You reached up, scratching him behind the ears.  "Well, you're no help at all."

It seemed impossible, this year, for some reason.  Nothing quite seemed to fit quite right, or be the right combination, and then you realized why.

What did you get for the man who had already given you the best gift ever?

Nothing seemed like it would ever be enough.

**

"C'mon," you said to Marshall, opening the  door to the car so he could jump out, grabbing the box of candy cane shaped dog biscuits, ready to enact the plan that had come to you in the pet store.  You grabbed the tray with your peppermint mocha and Marshall's puppaccino to set the Christmas spirit even more, unlocking the door to Tyler's house with one hand, setting everything down, and then going around to turn on lights.  And turn on some Christmas music.

"Are you going to help me with the tree?" you asked him, but he just sat down and then pawed your leg, and you realized he just wanted his treat.  So, you gave it to him, while you ventured into the garage, realizing that this was going to be the hard part.  You found the box with the tree first, realizing that it was way to cumbersome for you to lift by yourself right now.  So, you took piece by piece out, setting them in the living room, while Marshall was licking his container of whipped cream across the floor.  You might have created a bad habit.

You huffed as you used your legs to push the couch out of the way just enough that you could set the tree up, Marshall looking at you like you were crazy for moving the furniture. Finally, it was out of the way enough that you could begin setting the tree up, standing back and taking a sip of your Peppermint Mocha every now and then, singing along with the music as you fluffed the tree up.  Once you were satisfied with it, you plugged in the lights, and then went back into the garage for the boxes of decorations, bringing them up to the living room.  On your last pass, you noticed through the window that it had started to snow again, so you opened the garage door, deciding to put your car in there while you were here so you wouldn't have to wipe all the snow off it afterwards.  

Marshall was waiting for you at the door when you went back inside, and you leaned down to pet him.  "I'm not leaving you here, don't worry."

He left and came back with a rope a moment later, pushing it against your leg, and you halfheartedly reached down and tugged it a little, knowing that if you went hard, he could pull you over.  You also realized that Tyler hadn't really packed any toys for him, probably because he had thought he was hurt so, other than the couple of tennis balls you had around your house, Marshall hadn't had any toys, so you made a mental note to take a couple with you when you left.

You opened the bins, taking a look at what you had to work with, and then you noticed the Dallas Stars ornaments sitting on top, and remembered that you thought he had a game for tonight.  You turned on the TV, flicking through the channels and muting it, so it didn't compete with the holiday music you had going.  You finally found it, and saw the game was still scoreless.  St. Louis, that's where it was.

His ornaments were kind of a hodgepodge, probably because he didn't always spend Christmas here. There were the Dallas Stars ornaments, a couple of hockey related ornaments you recognized that his Mom had given him when he was a kid, and quite a few dog ornaments, that probably his mom had given him at some point as well, as well as several of those cinnamon ornaments that you'd made together your second year of college, when you'd got yourself a mini Christmas tree for your apartment but didn't to spend money on ornaments.  The rest was a mix of plain Christmas balls, like he'd just bought them at the last minute to fill in all the holes.  They didn't even match. You made do, as best as you could, thankful that the lights were white so there wasn't a huge clash.  You were almost done, when you found something hard, wrapped in tissue at the bottom of the box, and you unwrapped it to find an ornament, one of which you had very similar, that you made in the ceramics portion of art in eight grade.  His was, well, it was absolutely horrible looking, paint swiped across it at the last minute, and you remember Kirsten mercilessly making fun of him for it, even before they were together, and before you really knew him.  You hung it on a branch, right front and centre. And then you dug into the last  wrapped item, but it fell out and you started laughing immediately, half bending and half squatting to pick up the tiny curve of wood.   You remembered it, when he was taking this woodworking class in eleventh grade, and he'd been excited because he had this elaborate plan to jigsaw a skate out of wood.  But the skate, as he showed you, kept getting smaller and smaller, and he ended up having to form it into a hockey stick, and he ended up failing the assignment, and you'd had to bite your lip not to try and laugh when he showed you his finished project. His mom, if you remembered, said something like "that's great, honey," when he showed it to her, and the both of you had exchanged a look like it wasn't.

You hung that on the tree, too, and were about to go about your project, when you realized that Marshall was sniffing the box of treats that you had bought, and you had a sudden vision of the tree toppling over as the dogs attacked it, especially with how Gerry was apparently acting.  You sat down on the couch to rethink your plan, noticing that it was snowing even harder now, and you really, really were not in the mood to drive home while it was snowing.  So, ordered yourself a pizza and went to Tyler's room, rummaging through his drawers to find yourself a pair of pj pants and a shirt. And then you found a string of garland, working on weaving it through the stairs, hanging the candy cane dog treats off it when you were done.  Marshall was very curious about what you were doing, so you had to instruct him not to eat all the treats right now.

It looked pretty great, in your opinion, when you were done.  The only thing you hadn't done was hung the star, because you'd have to stand on something to do so, and you didn't want to do that when your centre of gravity was constantly changing.  But, at least his tree would be up and decorated when he got home for the holidays.

You ate your pizza as you watched the end of the game, finally crawling into bed with Marshall afterwards, arranging a variety of pillows around you, with him curled up by your legs.  Both of you fell asleep pretty quickly, and you could hear Marshall start to snore just as you drifted off, too.

It was so much lighter in the room when you woke in a daze, realizing that what woke you was Marshall growling by your feet.  You reached your hand out to pet him, thinking he was dreaming, but his head was up, and he was staring at the half open door growling. You didn't hear anything, other than snow falling off the tree outside.  "Marshall," you said lightly, frowning when he bared his teeth, not even looking at you, "It's okay."

All of a sudden, he lept out of bed, barking like you'd never heard him bark before, pushing past the door, and  then you heard a voice. "It's just me."   It startled you, but it seemed familiar, and then you placed it, flying out of bed yourself because you could hear Marshall still barking and a commotion on the stairs.

"Marshall!" you yelled, throwing open the door, and seeing Tyler's Dad standing there petting Marshall now, who had calmed, although the hair on the back of his neck was still standing up, a remnant of him trying to make himself more intimidating.

When Marshall saw you, he came back over to you, and you crouched down, petting him, "It's okay," you said, and he licked you on the face, and then you asked Paul, "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Nah, he was fine once he realized who he was," he said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.  Tyler didn't tell me you were here."

"Oh, he doesn't know I'm here," you said, and then you cringed, "I mean, he gave me a key.  He just didn't know I was here, tonight."

He laughed, "It's his house, you don't have to explain it to me," he said, and you stood back up slowly, your legs feeling shaking when you realized you that you were standing here, in front of Tyler's father wearing Tyler's clothes, with a pretty noticeable baby bump.  And you had no idea what to say.

"You're...." Paul said, his eyes eyes drifting downwards and your hand going over your belly, because there was no way of hiding it. "I didn't know you were....expecting."

Shit, shit.  Shit, shit, shit.  

"Yeah," you answered, "Umm...Tyler was going to tell you over Christmas."

He nodded a little, looking like he was deep in contemplation.  "So, you're....living here now?  With Tyler?  I didn't see your car or anything."

"Oh, no, no," you said quickly, "I just came to set up the tree.  My car's in the garage. It was snowing, so I didn't want to drive."

He smiled then, for a moment, "That's just what I was coming over to do this morning."

"Oh sorry, I didn't realize."

"No, no, I'm sure you could do a better job of it than I could anyways," he smiled, "I just wanted it to be here for when Tyler got home."

You stood there for a moment, just looking at each other and then you realized the reason he thought you were living there, was because he thought the baby you were having was Tyler's.  Which it was.  But only kind of.

"It's his sperm!" you blurted out.  And then you realized you just said the word 'sperm' again, to Tyler's father, and you shook your head.  

"What?" Paul asked.

"I...I wanted to have a baby," you said, "And Tyler donated sperm.  At the clinic.  We went to the clinic a lot."  You realized you were rambling now, trying to make sense of anything, and avoid telling him all the details.

"It's not his responsibility," you tried, rubbing your hand over your belly more.  

"Oh," he said simply, and then he scratched the back of his head, much like Tyler did, "Well, I should go.  Let you go back to sleep."

"It's okay," you said.  It wasn't like this was your house anyways.

"Nah, I just came to do that job anyways," he said, looking like he was thinking about going, "You're not, you weren't planning on staying here tonight were you? I'm sure you can, I'm not saying you should go."

"I was going to go home," you said, and then added with a laugh, to make him feel like he wasn't putting you out, "There's no groceries here, anyways."

"Oh," he said, "Do you need groceries? I can..."

"Oh no, I've got plenty.  At home."

"Okay," he said, turning away and then back again, like he didn't know quite what to do.  "I'll just shovel the driveway for you before I go."

"Oh, that's okay," you said, leaning down to pet Marshall, hoping to steal some of his calm.  "You don't have to do that."

"It's no trouble," he said, "you should be safe."

You knew you weren't going to convince him otherwise, so you accepted, a mix of 'take care''s and 'it was nice to see you"s as he left, and you ran your hand over your face as soon as the door closed in embarrassment.  And then you realized you weren't even wearing a bra, either.  Great.

You took a long shower, needing to completely wash all the awkward off you, realizing that you'd need to call Tyler and tell him, but you couldn't face that right now.  Maybe after breakfast.  

After you got out of the shower though and realized that Paul was no longer in the driveway, you went back into Tyler's room and your phone was lit up with a text.

Tyler: HAHAHAHAHA

You groaned, focusing on making yourself pancakes , and feeding Marshall, and then  trying to enjoy said pancakes.

It was probably 40 minutes later when your phone rang, and you answered it with a heavy "hi", to which Tyler responded with giggles.

"I can't believe my Dad walked in on you," he took a break to breathe, "in my bed. And that Marshall tried to attack him."

"It's not funny," you said.  It was mortifying is what it was.  "And I was not in your bed.  I was in the hallway outside your bedroom."

"But you were in my bed," he said, "Why were you in my bed?"

"Tyler," you started.

"I gave you a key, you're allowed to use it," he said, still sounded amused by the whole thing.  "I'm just curious, why were you in my bed?"

"I...." you looked down at the dog at your feet, and remembered not to give away the whole surprise, "I came over to get some toys for Marshell and it started snowing so I just decided to sleep here."

If he didn't believe you, he didn't let on.  "Were you naked?"

"No, I was not naked," you said, "I was in your clothes.  Which is worse."

Tyler laughed.  "How is that worse?"

"Because it's like...it's like we're sleeping together."

"Well, we did sleep together," he said.

"Yes, but I don't want your Dad to know that," you said, and then you remembered there were so much more important things: the pregnancy.  The baby.  "What did he say?"

"Uh...I'm not sure if he really believed you," Tyler said, "Or me.  I might have to show him the paperwork."

"Oh god," you muttured, sitting down at the kitchen table again.

"Babe, it's fine," Tyler said, "Honestly.  Honestly, he's probably just glad I got someone pregnant on purpose."

You made a small noise because telling everyone was a lot, and you didn't expect to be so involved in the process.  Especially when Tyler had said it was his responsibility.

"Don't worry, I'll fix it," he said, "You're really making this easy on me, you know."

"Hmm?"

"You tell everyone, and then I just get to swoop in and smooth everything over," he said.

"Okay,  I did not tell your mother, you let it slip."

"You told her you were pregnant," Tyler said, "that helped.  You wanna tell my sisters, too?"

"No."

"Please?" He asked sweetly.

"Not a chance."

[the-stray-liger]

I’m sorry to bother but I was curious if you would ever do a tutorial on how you draw bodies

OOF MY BUDDY that is a big question. I have been doing art since I was like 3? and started taking it seriously when I was like 13 and ever since I decided I wanted to do art I have been drawing pretty much nonstop every day, for 13 years. So as ugly as this answer might be, a lot of it is observation, practice, trial and error.

Every person learns differently but when it comes to the basic stuff I actually had some academic training. I learned first volumes and perspective, and then tackled proportions and anatomy. And by that I mean actual human anatomy with the shitty greek person proportions and then like. Learning the names of fucking muscles because why the fuck not. I internalized all the basics of academic drawing to the point where I do not need to make a conscious effort to remember most of the time and can skip steps and experiment with stylizing.

Anyway. I’m guessing you’re here for visual aid and not a sermon-so I will GLADLY give you some of my cheap Lazy Bitch tricks and hope they help you!!!

First-the head isnt a fucking sphere. It’s not. It’s like a squashed sphere because the neck needs to go somewhere.

Second-The human spine isn’t straight. It’s a squiggly “S” and learning to draw it as such already means a huge improvement on how you handle proportions and anatomy.

Third-Draw. THE RIBCAGE. It’s a super simple egg shape and it helps to make the torso look. Well. Like a torso. And from there you can start taking other pointers for the rest of the body, its proportions from many angles, because it conveys a sensation of organic volume rather than a fucking shoebox.

Remember a few basic stuffs, like how the elbow matches usually the bottom of the ribcage and how traditionally the hips and the shoulders are the same width, that kind of garbage. If you want you can add the belly button at this point around the same place as the waist should be, it helps understand where the middle of the torso is, almost lined up with the bottom of the ribcage too, regardless of the style you’re using, it gives you a few guidelines in case you’re doing heavy stylization.

This is also the time to play with the action curves. Exaggerate. Tilt the hips AND the shoulders for extra effect, it will keep the pose dynamic and interesting even if the body is in a static upright position.

I’m not even gonna talk about proportions. But this is the kind of guidelines I make for my drawings when drawing simple full body poses. It’s-are you ready for this? More squiggles. The more yyou practice these the more accurate in proportions they will be.

USE YOUR TOOLS. Every art program has a deformation tool, it’s there for a reason. Even with tons of practice, it’s very likely that you won’t nail the proportions on the first try (specially if you don’t own a display tablet! It’s hard, at least for me, to match the movements of my hands to what I see on screen, even if I have been draiwng digitally for like what, 6 years or so?). Select and ctrl+t and go nuts. It might take you hours of tweaking to get the proportions right, but honestly who the fuck cares. You can tell I actually tweaked this one a lot. Abuse that fucking eraser. Ctrl+z the heck out.

Trust your instincts, tweak the proportions until it looks right to you. If you’re not sure, duplicate the layer and modify them separately and then compare them to see which one works best. 

Finally, USE REFERENCES. Senshistock, for example, is one of my fav stock picture accs ever. I’ve been following her since my deviantart days and she’s also on twitter and she has TONS of excellent fullbody photos specially for artists to use as references. 

Anyway that’s my advice. I hope it’s helpful and that I didn’t maek things worst because I have so much in my mind right now ldfsdlfkjsñd QuQ

[lunchtimerushin]

Sorry to be a bother again but I was wondering if you have any tips for drawing clothes and folds and such. I have a super hard time with that. I also wanted to ask how one should go about drawing if one is in a situation where they don't have any pose refs. Like, how should someone draw a pose from their brain? Sorry for polluting your blog with boring asks, you don't have to answer or put it up. I feel like it would ruin your blog. I'm sorry. I want to draw like you too <3

asfjjhk omg its okay shh dont worry about it !!!!! I don’t really care for blog aesthetics whatsoever so it’s ok!!!

erm, Im unsure how to answer this, but lemme draw a thing and post the process under readmore? I hope it helps (:3;;

a 3 sec sketch; basically outlines what the pic will look like; sort of lik a gesture drawing!

I usually skip right to drawing the skeletal base drawing, but it helps to understand how to simplify the body parts. This is how I break the body down to make it easier for me to digest and draw.

when you can simplify the body down like this, you can easily deconstruct photos/references! when you have a repertoire of poses in your mind after studying a lot of poses, that kind of stuff become easier to draw from your mind cus you’ve drawn it before. 

disclaimer: “anatomically” correct is really subjective; some artists will bend anatomy, as such, not every human has the same anatomical body proportions, so that’s really up to you to decide. (Ive never done art school so Im not the person to ask about this.) 

I start loose and then slowly tighten the details all around. Work on drawing holistically (keeping in mind your entire picture) rather than zooming in and working on one part to another.

ok, back to my sketch;

since ive already defined the person’s body structure, I skip right to drawing the clothes on  top of them; some ppl will actually draw the body structure neatly before they put clothes on them; it really is up to you!

keep note that this hasn’t been anatomy checked or whatever, just still roughing it out and cleaning it up as I go. 

for clothes fold, i saw this rly cool tip where you imagine shower curtain rings

and sorta draw around the movement of it (ofc this is like.. the wrinkles around the arm/sleeve etc.) AGAIN please use reference of real cothes to get a better feel of how to draw it (:3

andddddd ofc, cus im a wishy washy person, the anatomy changes overtime the more details I add in, so it’s……. iunno. yeah. it’s a nightmare to horizontal flip it, but it does help you catch a lot of things that are wrong (like I know the head tilt is gonna be a problem here lol.)

and well. it’ll be touched up a lot more, sketched better/cleaned up; so yeah. i’m at the brink of passing out rn, but this is just the base drawing process !! I guess (?) 

sorry i wasn’t able to give a better explanation <_>;;;;;;;;;;;;!!!!!