#and his iridescent eyepatch

[saltywritings]

Petals of the Dragon | Aemond Targaryen x Reader | Part One

summary: a multipart beauty and the beast au.

part two

series warnings: suggestive commentary, foul language, violence, etc.

there was a sense of despair that consumed you as the sound of laughter echoed off the stone walls of the dungeon. you knew that you should not be here. there was not a person alive who would dare cross through the forest and down the overgrowth to the castle. not that a warning was much needed, for the very sight of the red keep was enough to send people running in the opposite direction. if that was not enough there was the tall tale that dragons had long sailed the clouds above the castle. yet, the situation was dire. your father was meant to return home days ago from selling his inventions in the reach. you followed his horse here and you entered bravely in search of your father. to your own horror, you found him, locked in the dungeon of the castle. your hands gripped onto the bars and with all your strength, you shook and jerked at the locked door. the echo of laughter was only growing stronger as tears welled in your eyes.

“run, y/n! leave me-.” your father begged of you, his trembling hands attempting to push them away from the bars of the cell he was in.

“no, father. I can not. y-you’re shivering, you’re ill. i-I can not leave you here.” you reasoned with your father, who was still attempting to push you away.

“y/n, please, my sweet girl. leave me.” tears were in your fathers’ eyes as they met yours. his begging was no use, you knew it, and he knew it too.

“you should listen to your father.” the voice reasoned, the sound of footsteps came closer and from around the corner came a beast. the figure was of a man with long silver hair, one iridescent purple eye looking back to you, and the other one covered by an eyepatch. patches of his skin had dark scales covering them. they were unlike the ones of greyscale that you had seen on the infected in your village. no, the scales across the beast were almost dragon like. at the ends of his fingers danced long black fingernails that appeared more like talons than anything else. there was a part of you that wanted to look away from him. that wished to run away in fear. however, you remained on your knees looking up at the beast before you. unable to tear yourself away from his beastly appearance.

“w-who are you?” you questioned, unwilling to move, and unwilling to leave.

“i am the master of this castle and who do you think you are? sweet girl?” he mocked, a smile glossing over his sinful features. 

“y/n- i am here for my father. please free him, he’s sick. he needs to see a doctor.” you begun to ramble, begging as you looked up from the ground at the beast before you. your poor father was unable to even look at him, for his head was down to his shoulder in shame.

“free him? no i can not free him. he has trespassed and stolen- plucked roses straight from their bushes. your father must suffer, he must be punished” the beast insisted to which you begun to shake your head.

“please, i’ll do anything. just let him go.” you continued to beg.

“anything?” he questioned you, looking down at you with his singularly exposed eye.

“yes,” you said bravely.

“come and tell me to my face, that you’ll do anything.” he demanded of you. it was not in your nature to be controlled or to obey. however, you rose to your feet and walked to him. your steps were slow but in a matter of moments you stood looking at him. toe to toe and eye to eye. he smiled looking at you standing bravely in front of him. “go on” he purred.

“i’ll do anything, please, please set my father free.” you began to weep, and you soon brought your hands together as you begged.

“i will set your father free, however, you must take his place.” the beast demanded as tears welled in your eyes.

“no! y/n, don’t do it!” your father shouted, you attempted not to react, to ignored the tears that were already stained across your cheeks.

“i’ll do it, please just let him go!” you insisted to which the beast smiled again.

“fine, if you wish to be a prisoner here instead of him so be it.” the beast spoke as he pulled a key to unlock the prison cell. his hand grabbed onto your father’s arm who was too weak to attempt to fight and in only a matter of moments he begun to pull your father away as he cried for you. the beast threw him the cobblestone stairs that led into the castle, the doors swinging shut behind him before the beast once more brought his attention to you. despite the terror that rang throughout your bones you remained still. feet planted firmly on the ground; you were afraid, but you were unwilling to let this beast have the better of you.

the beast stood in front of you, eye to eye, a hum left the back of his throat. there was a part of him that was amused by your bravery. challenged by it perhaps. his hand grabbed onto your arm tightly as you begun to struggle a bit. he said nothing at first, only beginning to drag you as your feet slid across the ground in the struggle.

“where are you taking me?” you demanded to know.

“your chambers, you’re going to be here kept here. you should at least have your own chambers.” the beast spoke, to which you begun to stop resisting him in your own confusion. there was a silence that followed, his grip on your arm softened as he led you to the chambers. letting you go as he pulled you into them. you stumbled back slightly, looking to him as he stood in the doorway. “these will be your chambers. you will reside here. i will allow you to venture the castle, though, under no circumstances may you go to the west wing of the castle.” the beast said his hands finding his way behind his back. you were going to question him, though, only moments had passed before the beast was gone from the frame of the door and it came slamming shut as he departed.

hours followed of you weeping in your chambers. there was a part of you that wanted to take some comfort in knowing that you would at least be comfortable. yet, the despair of losing your freedom and your father in one night was too much for you to carry. a loud knock came on the door that made your skin jump, your head jolting up from the pillow. a part of you was surprised that the beast had not bothered to simply barge into your room. you were frozen in your fear as the beast called out, “you will join me for super. this is not a request.” his voice was stern but there was a slight echo that followed. another voice.

gentle, aemond. the poor girl has lost everything today. it was the voice of a woman.

yes, getting a look at you she’s probably scared to death, the voice of a man followed along with the sound of a clang, almost as if something had been thrown against the wall. though kicked was more accurate.

a gentle knock followed after.

“what do you want?” you called out curling yourself into the bed.

“will you join me for dinner,” he questioned a silence followed after.

say please, aemond. a voice added in.

“please,” the beast added through gritted teeth. you rose from the bed.

“you honestly think i would willingly have dinner with you? i am your prisoner. you must be daft or insane.” you spat, a part of you was fully aware that he could brust through the door and throw you over his shoulder. that he could do anything he wanted to you. that he could throw you back in a cell or tear you apart limb from limb, and yet? you said it anyway. though, what followed only caused a new feeling of terror to reside in you once again. 

a loud pounding followed.

“you will eat with me or you will starve!” he screamed at you but your back was now to the door.

“i would rather starve!” you shouted back.

“than so be it, go ahead and starve!” the beast came screaming back. to which you found yourself in the comfort of the bed once again.

you were unsure how long it had been since another knock came to the door. a gentler knock that followed. you sniffled slightly as your head rose from the pillow.

“i said i’m not coming down to eat with you!” you called out attempting to stand your ground.

“no, this is alicent, dear.” the voice followed to which you stood from your position. you were unsure that there had even been other people in the castle apart from the beast at all. “i just thought you would enjoy some tea to settle you.” she called out again.

“oh yes, please –“ you were speaking as you opened the door. to which, a tea cart pushed in and your eyes went wide. you were convinced you were losing your mind. for at the sight of the tea pot speaking you stumbled back. “y-you’re a . . .” you trailed off as you backed away stepping onto the bed.

“a tea pot? yes, it was alarming for me as well at first. dareon here as well.” she spoke, a small tea cup at her side.

“that’s not possible,” you attempted to reason with her. a shock that only remained to consume you as through the already cracked door hopped in a gold candlestick and a clock which appeared to be one chasing after the other.

“we did not believe it possible either,” the clock begun to speak, you remained still, watching them in dread.

“i thought i told you both to stay away,” alicent, the teapot, begun to scold the two other piece of talking, walking, furniture.

“you can blame your son, it was aegon who came blistering down here like a fool. if not for me hald this castle would be in flames.” the clock begun to argue.

“perhaps that was the point, grandsire” the candlestick spoke giving a small shrug of his arms.

“aegon!” alicent, the teapot, was quick to scold.

“i was only joking. i cam down here for you, m’lady.” aegon, the candlestick, spoke. your eyes were still wide looking at the furniture that was speaking to you. “we cannot let you starve up here, now can we. i invite you to be our guest.”

authors note: apologizes for how short it is! tumblr has a word limit now. please consider commenting, reblogging, etc. all of it really helps my self esteem in my writing and honestly makes my day. but if you do not desire to do so, no worries! thank you for making it this far.

[fox-graves]

A very special throwback Thursday! Again! This time a walk through Asim’s character design and how it changed over time and my journey through colorizing traditional pencil drawings. Breakdown under the readmore.

(note: when I say “my DM”, he is also my partner who I have been building a DnD setting with, I wasn’t bullying a random DM into what I wanted, I was working with my partner to build a new setting while he was really stuck in Standard DnD and was letting that inform pretty much all the worldbuilding decisions.) 2017: The first color picture of Asim, and an attempt to colorize a messy pen sketch that I had been close to giving up on. The filter modes I used on the inking made the shadows harsh and dramatic, and while good for the piece, did not give me much control over the color. He was a basic drow with a color scheme picked out by my DM - my DM also insisted on shorter elf ears that didn’t emote and an overall human-like appearance aside from skintone.

2018: The DM had noted in an expression sheet I had distinctly drawn Asim’s canines - he said it made him look part orc but it was really just a stylistic choice I was playing around with. I leaned into it and suggested his father was half orc for a chance to give him more monstery traits and made his tusks a bit more prominent. I also used large emotive elf ears in the sheet to show the DM how it was a fun trait to allow. He agreed. I did some semi clean line art of a new expression sheet and experimented with coloring that. the line art gave me a lot more control with coloring, but I wasn’t entirely happy with it. The DM had given me a halfmask/eyepatch with a design I wasn’t too keen on but used it in the design anyway.

2019: Fully leaning into his orcish heritage, Asim as his stage persona Balam Yunuen. It was a expression sketch that got out of hand and I ended up fully shading it in pencil I loved it so much. Some more playing around with filters, having remembered a tutorial I saw on digital artists tinting their lineart, and I hit gold. My painting skills were still a little shaky but I learned a lot and he gained +1 Iridescent Skin.

2019 part 2: Another 2019 because I learned a lot that year and his design gained another tweak - a small snout and hints at the animal-like nose he would soon have. I found my stride with shading hair and have been going ham on it ever since.

2021: His sideburns! His finalized snoot! His resting crooked ears! Redesigning his eyepatch because dammit it’s my character he’ll look how I want him to look! At this point I had really settled into my style of colorizing my pencil drawings.

2022: Return of the chin tattoo! Redesigned and simplified into a sun-eye motif. Playing around with his cultural braid, the Makhiorya, a braid that you put beads on for everyone you invite into your family. Magical neck scar where his neck was torn out! I was beyond settled in my colorizing, I was getting bold with colors and lighting, constantly trying new things and learning from it. 2023:???? my kofi supporters are in the know on what’s coming ;) Comms | Shop | Tips

[shouga-nai]

Periwinkle eye followed the glass as it was moved away, a visible pout on his face as a hand reached forward - only to fall hopelessly back onto the counter. Oh, Sweet Escape, we shall meet again...

A soft hum left him then, resting his weary head on gloved palm.

"One would still need to keep up with the times fashion-wise even with a floating iridescent body. An appropriately sized eyepatch and cape would make one dashing Seelie, no?"

The Captain's gaze then shifted back to his companion, her eyes almost seeming to have a particular shine to them under the tavern lights. Kaeya looked into them, staring into the depths of her soul.

"For a lone Seelie, fated to be tucked away in a little court, to be occasionally graced by the presence of an angel in the guise of a lovely mage with some fine wine..~ Perhaps such a fate wouldn't be so dreadful."

The magician stifled a laugh, quickly muffling it with a sip of her own drink. Considering her own alcohol tolerance in comparison to Kaeya's, Signe had expected that she'd be the one muttering nonsense when she'd agreed to come along to the tavern with the usual band of Knights. When she returned his glance, her gaze was warm and endearing, accompanied by a fond little scoff.

"I think I would. But I have a few clarifying questions," she teased, gently moving the glass away from him and over towards Charles.

"I suppose if you were one of those mini Seelies, following me around and making those little Seelie noises, I'd have to love you all the same. But how would I know it was you? Would the Seelie still have an eyepatch? Maybe a fur cape for good measure? If you're a regular-sized Seelie, then would you have to stay in your little Seelie court? These are important things to consider, of course."

[haldenlith]

I ran out of steam before I could finish or anything, but I felt like drawing the eyepatch-side of my fae boy.

Hydrangeas suit Riato. Also, the colorize function is fun to play with.

If I get steam back in me again, I may go back to this. For now, I'm pleased with the flats.

[wovenstarlight]

[ID: Colored digital illustrations depicting kkoma Yoo Joonghyuks in icon format. They have various colored backgrounds, and most of them are dressed in his usual dark clothing and black coat. Image 1: 81st round kkoma, wearing an apron and a chef's hat. He has a determined expression and is holding up a spatula. Light green background. Image 2: 81st round kkoma, almost identical to image 1, except he’s holding a bowl and spatula instead of just a spatula. Dark green background. Image 3: 999th round kkoma, wearing an eyepatch over his left eye. He has a calm expression and a gold star hangs to the left. Pale purple background. Image 4: 999th round kkoma in his dumpling disguise, held in Kim Dokja’s arms. Kim Dokja looks frustrated, and cracks are spreading over his skin. The gold star hangs to the right side. Bright purple background. Image 5: 666th round kkoma, wearing a determined expression and raising a hand which is surrounded by bluish-black flame. Red background. Image 6: Altered 1863rd round Yoo Joonghyuk, face covered in scars and eyes lined with dark circles. He looks sad. He has brown dog ears and a tail; his ears are drooping and his tail is wagging gently. Orange background. Image 7: The Secretive Plotter, gray-skinned and wearing a dark gray robe. His head is covered by a translucent white veil and his eyes are pure white with no iris or pupils. He is holding up a single round gold coin, engraved with the letter C. Black background. Image 8: The Plotter, wearing a white coat and scarred over one eye, scowling slightly. An iridescent aura reminiscent of an oil slick surrounds his body. Half-hidden behind him is the Oldest Dream, age 15, clinging to the Plotter's arm and staring curiously at the camera. His eyes are wide and patterned like a starry sky. A large question mark hangs over his head. Cream background.]

YJH icons that i made for his birthday last year!

(on twitter: first, second)

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.13

12/12/2020

The Honeymoon’s Not Over

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,309

Warnings: jealousy, slight angst, light smut, language, talks of pregnancy

A/N: I’m sorry these are taking longer. My grandparents are living with me for a few months and these are going to get a little slower now that they’re here. I hope you enjoy it! If you have a favorite part, let me know what it is! I’d love to hear. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Not knowing what to expect from a marriage to a veritable stranger is predictable. Of course, you’re not going to know what’s to come when you don’t know the man you’ve agreed to marry.

Apart from the responsibilities of the throne you’ve chosen to sit upon, and the obligations you have to provide the kingdom with an heir, the marriage you have chosen for yourself was entered into blindly.

You knew absolutely nothing about Thor when you agreed to marry him. You knew a little bit more by the time you stood directly opposite him and said your vows.

Now, after spending time with him in the company of his comrades, his friends, you know what Thor sounds like when he busts a gut. You see the twinkle in his one eye when they all sit around the living room reminiscing about battles won.

You see sadness over their losses, and the loyalty of his friendship. You see the weight they all carry on their shoulders to give this world its best chance against all forms of threat.

Most of all, you know how proud Thor is to have you by his side. At every moment possible, he’s pulled you into their games and conversations. He’s invited Tony to give you a tour of the compound and Bruce had tagged along and whispered to you smaller things that Tony conveniently left out because they weren’t things for him to boast about.

As the night went on, the Avengers told you their farewells and those that lived outside of the compound took their leave. They told you it was so nice to meet you, shook your hand—or hugged you as was the case with Wanda, Nat, and Steve—and then made you promise to stop by again and stay for longer than a day.

“We’ll make a real vacation of it, I assure you,” Thor promises Bucky who has taken a shine to you more enthusiastically than you thought he would.

Since you made your opinions on Loki clear, he’s been much more eager to speak with you and exchange ideas on more than just overlooking the troubled pasts of people desperate to make a change.

By one o’clock in the morning, Tony and Bruce are the only two left in the living room.

Bruce sits at the edge of the sofa, his glasses balanced at the end of his nose as he scrolls through large amounts of text and numbers on a sleek black tablet.

Tony has taken over the corner of the sectional, his phone pressed to his ear again as he yawns but resists sleep.

You hear him say Pepper’s name and a quick acknowledgement that he misses her when you decide that maybe it’s time to give them their privacy.

You rise slowly, Thor back in the main common room where you’d all eaten dinner, talking to Loki or Hilde on his own phone to keep up with what’s happening back home.

Bruce notices, not as invested in his reading as you’d thought.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed.” You admit, gesturing over your shoulder towards the other room.

“Oh, okay. Have a good night. I think Tony has breakfast set up for eight o’clock tomorrow morning so, the others will be back by then. I think?”

Bruce turns towards Tony who has his legs folded up on the seat, his hand combing through the back of his head as a sappy grin overtakes his face.

“Hey, breakfast at eight, right? Tomorrow morning?” Bruce asks, reaching over to place his hand on the seat of the sofa to attempt and get his attention.

“Hold on, Pep, there’s some weird old man trying to ask me something. I think if I ignore him long enough, he’ll leave me alone.” Tony mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear but muffled enough to make it clear that you’re not supposed to.

From the other end of the phone, you hear a clearly amused female voice speak back, “Be nice. He’s trying to be accommodating for Thor’s wife.”

He throws his hand back towards Bruce and waves his hand at him in clear dismissal.

Bruce sighs and gives you an apologetic smile, but you’re smiling from ear to ear.

“Sorry. Just to be safe, we’ll say eight o’clock.”

“Thanks, Bruce. For the tour and everything.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Bruce nods.

“Good night. Good night, Tony.” You call at him pointedly.

Tony makes a point to look back at you, fixing you with a buttery smile, “Goodnight, Cherub.”

You scoff, laughing a little, but give them a wave and move into the common room.

Thor’s back is tense, and it makes you worry.

Despite the conversation you’d overheard in the kitchen, you’re more confident now than before that Thor is devoted to you.

Because it’s in his touch. It’s in his gaze. It’s in the way he pulls you into his side when the others teased you about now being obligated to be an Avenger and the consequent terror that filled your eyes.

“A jest, my sweet.” Thor had whispered, then chuckled with the others.

He’d promised to tell you about this threat when the two of you were alone, but you’re so exhausted and as much as you want to go over and demand he fill you in now, you turn down the long hallway and pass two or three doorways before you reach the bedrooms.

The first door on the left is Thor’s and you slip in quietly, hoping not to interrupt Thor’s phone call.

It’s toasty warm inside. You peel off your clothes and despite wanting to just snuggle into bed, you make your way into the bathroom and the deep tub is long and wide enough for two people.

You flip on the shower instead, the water burning hot and as it glides down along your skin it summons goosebumps as the cold is chased away.

You hadn’t realized how chilly the compound is until now, and wonder if the Avengers are just hot natured. It would be weird for all of them to be like that, but if the ones with powers are like Thor, then maybe they all run a little hotter?

A tickle around your arms, just above your elbows, coaxes your eyes back open.

You hadn’t even realized you were falling asleep. Looking down you see two sets of large familiar fingers.

The hands they’re attached to turn you around and pull you close until Thor’s lips press down against yours, pushing you even further into peaceful bliss.

He opens his mouth wide, coaxing your own to respond as his tongue delves hungrily into your mouth.

You’re slow to respond, so tired but eager and pleased with the affection.

Thor’s knee nudges against the inner part of your thigh and you take a step, but he catches it as you do, and he lifts it up against his hip.

Water rains down along your naked bodies and Thor slides into you slowly.

You moan, low and sweet. Quiet and pleased but lazy.

“Thor…” You whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he dips down to nibble at your throat.

He pumps in and out so deliciously slow that the stretch of him pulls an orgasm from you quickly.

You’re so sensitive at the moment. You go limp in his arms, and he adjusts to support your body as you relax while he continues to push into you.

He rests your back against the shower wall, hips pulled against his as he fucks you slow. Watching him thrust into you, hips rolling slow, is perfection.

You caress the side of his face and he pulls back to look at you before he kisses you sweetly.

It all feels like a dream, and as he speeds up, you shut your eyes and you’re sent off with another wave of pleasure.

~~~~~~~~~~

The morning is toasty. Large warmth wrapped around you.

You twist where he holds you, straining to look at his face which you know like the back of your hand by now. No eyepatch, you reach up to trace the edges of his missing eye.

He croons and curls into your touch, the space gets red and itchy sometimes from wearing the patch all day.

This feeling, this soft glow in your chest, the way it aches and makes you feel like you could fly is something you didn’t know to expect from your marriage.

This iridescence, this shine that grows from your very center to entangle itself around you and Thor.

“Sleep longer,” Thor whispers, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep.

He pulls you closer, large hands splayed against your back as he rubs it several times up and down.

It almost does lure you back to sleep but you force your eyes open.

“We have to go down for breakfast. Everyone will be waiting.”

“Mmmmmm,” Thor protests.

No, he’s straight up whining. Tightening his hold, you groan as he squeezes. Any harder and he’ll crack your back.

“Thor,” You insist, and after a bit he opens his eye and peeks at your face before shutting it again.

“I do not appreciate early mornings when I am supposed to be enjoying uninterrupted time with my new wife.”

“You’re the one that brought us here!” The chuckle that slips through your lips is unintentional, but he’s so cute all pouty.

“It doesn’t matter,” He frowns, “I am King. Things should go my way.”

“Well, excuse me Your Majesty. Should I go tell the Avengers that they need to reschedule breakfast until you’re ready to wake up?”

“Yes,” When you start to move, he shoots up, tackling you to the bed and pinning your arms over your head as you laugh. “Wait, I don’t want you to leave the bed.”

“How the hell else am I supposed to go tell them then?”

“I suppose we can’t make them wait. I am so glad that we’ve still got a few days left to spend at your home. I want to make sure we go back to the palace with my child firmly planted in your womb.” He gushes and even though the words aren’t exactly dirty, it’s got your core throbbing and aching for more of what you think happened last night.

“Did we make love last night?” You really don’t know if it was just a dream or not.

It was all so sleepy, the memory like smoke. It could very well have been a wet dream.

“Don’t you remember?”

“Kinda. I was so tired.”

The amused curve of Thor’s lips give you the confirmation you need, “Yes, you were very tired. I had to catch you after your second climax. You fell asleep just as I also reached mine.”

“I don’t remember,” You confess, trying hard to remember what happened after your eyes shut.

You vaguely remember feeling supportive hands on the back of your head and back.

The soft mattress of his bed supporting you as he placed you on it?

“I’m not allowed to get drunk or to get really tired around you anymore. I hate not remembering my nights with you.”

He settles down on top of you, keeping his weight light and balanced on his side. His hands he brings down along your arms until he has his right cupping the left side of your head while his left hand finds its usual spot on your hip.

“I quite enjoy it when you can’t keep your eyes open. You sang for me on our wedding night.”

His reminder makes you groan and you turn away from him but he catches your lips in a kiss before you can turn away fully.

Thor gives you a good morning. A very good morning.

You both shuffle out into the common room where you’d had dinner last night with wide smiles, playful chuckling, and completely satisfied.

Both of you are so into what the other is saying or doing with their hands that you don’t really hear the murmur of conversation by the long table.

“When we get back, we should break in that bench in your backyard.” Thor whispers.

“Are you joking? That thing is gonna leave so many marks on my body. No way.”

“Come on, I’ll put a blanket, and you can be on top.” He presses his lips right up against your ear as he seduces you, but you’re stronger than that...maybe.

“Mmm, that’s really tempting there, Your Majesty,” you tease, reaching up to tug on his ear until he meets your lips in a quick peck.

It’s noisy and it smacks. So loud in fact, that you two finally notice the way the murmur of voices has disappeared and turned into silence.

Both of you stop, searching ahead for what might have caused the sudden death of conversation and at first don’t see anything.

Well, you don’t see anything.

“Good morning, everyone. What’s-is everything okay?” You ask, finding Steve’s face as he stands with his arms crossed across his chest, looking at you and Thor with his chin tucked in a bit.

He looks pensive and worried.

A quick look at Natasha and Wanda tells you that they’re worried for you for some reason. Both of them sitting at the edge of their seats.

Beside you, Thor has gone stiff.

“Thor?” You look at him, not sure why and search his face to see if there might be a clue but his eye is lasered in across the room and you follow his gaze.

You’re still not quite certain what he sees until movement on the furthest seat of the table draws your attention to a small brunette, with peachy skin, rosy cheeks, and bright brown eyes.

She’s so nervous that she’s almost clumsy, pushing her long hair over her shoulder, her lips quivering into a smile and then back into a straight line several times before they settle into a teeny uncertain curve of her lips.

Pink lips. Not chapped. Perfectly proportioned so that both lips are the exact same thickness.

“Jane…” Thor says, almost like it’s a realization.

“Oh,” Your voice is more timid than you expected it to come out if you ever came face to face with this woman. “That’s Jane.”

You’re suddenly really sad you never Googled her so that you’d at least have been prepared for the absolute petite beauty that she is.

Thor’s head whips towards you and he blinks, mouth opening as he searches for the words.

“I-we-er-I mean...This-this is my wife,” He introduces you breathlessly.

Clearly seeing her has caught him by as much surprise as you. Maybe more.

“Queen of Asgard,” he gives her your full name.

In Asgardian tradition, since Thor doesn’t technically have a last name in the traditional sense like humans do, you’ve kept your own.

“Right,” Jane shuts her eyes, claps her hands gently then nods slowly. “Right, of course. You’re King now! RIght. Your Majesties.”

Her greeting is simple and she even gives a quick somewhat off balance curtsy, probably from her nerves.

“Oh, that’s-”

Thor takes your hand, pulling you just a smidge more into his side, cutting off your protest to her curtsy.

“Thank you for that,” Thor tells her, nodding once. “None of these rascals bothered to bow to my new Queen.”

There’s something odd about Thor’s voice that you’ve never heard before. An anger. Subdued rage. Surprise too. His own sprinkle of nerves thrown in there as well.

You steal a glance up at his face and find a tightness around his eyes as he then drops your hand to slip it around your shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” He asks her, and the Avengers take this as their cue to rise from their spots and move into the living room or the kitchen.

Jane comes around the table, stopping a few feet away from the two of you.

Their eyes are locked on each other, her pretty browns and Thor’s one electric blue.

The silence, though it lasts only a quick three seconds, is endless. Instantly you’re an intruder and you spot Bruce peeking from the kitchen. He makes eye contact with you and there’s a beckoning from him, a promise of safety and sanctuary in this super fucked situation you find yourself in and you pull out from Thor’s arm and nearly scamper into the kitchen but a large hand wraps around your wrist gently, pulling to stop you from moving.

“Where are you going?” Thor’s face has softened, all tension leaving his beautiful face as he steps towards you to close the distance between your bodies.

It’s still respectful, a good two feet between you as opposed to the narrow six inches he’s kept you in all week.

Something tells you that he’s also keeping you at arms’ length because Jane is right there and it’s only been at most, two weeks since he ended things with her.

“I was going to give you two some space.” You whisper, though Jane is literally right there, so she can hear you.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She starts, but Thor cuts her off, almost as if he can’t hear her.

“You do not have to give us space, cherub. You are right where you should be, at my side.” Thor doesn’t bother to whisper, but it’s clear in the volume of his voice that his words are meant only for you.

“It feels weird…” You whisper more quietly that it makes Thor move closer and lean his head down.

“It shouldn’t,” He reaches up to stroke your cheek, and you can’t help but peek at Jane.

She’s watching the two of you, her eyes darting away and back and away again, a fleeting look of confusion on her pretty face.

You reach around Thor’s side and give his side a little pinch to bring his attention back to Jane.

“She’s waiting,” you inform him, and flick your head in her direction before turning to face her again, planting yourself beside Thor just as he wants.

“Right,” Thor agrees, then wraps his arm right back around your shoulders. “What brings you to the compound, Jane? I can’t imagine anything would get you out of the desert with what you showed me last time I was there.”

Your heart gives an upsetting lurch at the reminder to Thor’s and Tony’s conversation last night, but you simply lean into Thor’s side some more, pushing down your insecurities for now.

“Yeah, um...I was in the lab when a weird energy spike completely threw off my sensors. It fried my stabilizer. So, I checked with NASA and UNOOSA, CNSA, SUPARCO, and a whole bunch of other contacts at various space agencies around the world and all of them also had similar readings. Not as strong, but they all swear that they don’t have anything in orbit or out in that quadrant. Given the strength of the surge, I contacted Tony to let him know so that he could get word to you but then he told me that you’d be here this week for a day, so I...I decided to stop by and tell you myself.”

She smiles, just a quick awkward little thing, at you and then at Thor.

Thor’s mind processes what she just told him as quickly as it can while you steal a glance at the kitchen again where Tony is peeking out this time.

“To be fair, I didn’t know you were going to be so nice.” He tells you, unapologetic that his words will reach all ears in all three rooms.

He quickly ducks out when you frown at him, leaving Bruce peeking out behind him who then panics and also pulls himself back out of sight.

What you can infer from his words is that he’d invited her to come when he’d known that you and Thor would be on your honeymoon in an attempt to get them back together?

As you look back to Jane who stands there staring at Thor with those stupid big brown eyes, you wonder if she knew Tony’s plans and that’s why she’s here.

“What’s the trajectory of the energy you found? What’s it heading towards?” Thor wonders, taking a half step forward, dropping his arm from your shoulders.

Your mind goes into a sudden frenzy as you, like him, put two and two together quickly.

“The threat?” You guess, stepping away from him but also moving around so that you can look at him and speak a little more face-to-face with him and Jane too.

You’d completely forgotten about the damn threat! You’d been so seduced and tired last night that you passed out. Then Thor woke you up so sweetly with more seduction that you’ve put the secret threat Thor has been trying to hide from you out of your mind.

His furrowed brow, large biceps bulging as he crosses his arms across his chest, betray his guilt at having kept it from you. But the two of you know that you have no time to dwell on petty arguments, so you table the argument you’d planned on having last night for another time.

“Could that be it?” You push, looking to Jane who looks a little confused by the tension in both your and Thor’s bodies.

“It might be.”

“What threat?” Jane wonders.

“What’s the matter, Cherub? What’s got you all worried?” Tony shuffles over, probably having heard the bit about the threat.

You give him a quick glance before you look at Jane, “What kind of energy reading was it? Cosmic? Solar? Celestial?”

All of the Avengers who had begun to make their way back into the common room for breakfast along with Thor, Tony, and Jane stop to look at you, several of them with mouths open and in complete surprise.

The silence is deafening, pressing in on you from every direction. Thor takes a step towards you and seems to be the only one unphased by your question.

“I don’t know that Jane would be able to determine the type of energy at this distance.” And yet, he turns to look at her once he’s spoken. “Jane?”

She blinks, still completely in shock by your knowledge, “Uh, I might be able to find a way to determine...how do you know about-?”

“As soon as Thor formally asked me to marry him I started to make a list of things that would probably be good to know in my position. Loki helped me um…” Wait, shoot...maybe you shouldn’t be so open with them?

“The weird sister helped you what?” Tony asks, casual disdain in his voice for the younger Asgardian prince.

You frown at him.

“Nevermind.” You cross your arms across your chest and sit down on the seat right behind you.

“He didn’t mean that, cherub.” Thor cuts in, moving towards you he pulls the seat beside you out to sit down, facing you. “Isn’t that right, Stark?”

“No.” You frown, really not liking the way some of them seem to really hate Loki.

Part of you knows that you can’t blame them. Loki did a lot of bad the last time he was here for an extended period of time.

He killed a lot of people and wreaked havoc on New York. They have every right to be angry at him. Even though you know this, you can’t find yourself letting them get away with their open hatred for him in front of you.

Thor looks at Tony with a pleading, his large hands on your knees as he strokes your legs softly to try and soothe you.

You see Tony roll his eyes from the corner of your own and with a silent exasperated sigh, he throws his hands out in front of him to physically push away his words.

“Alright, you’re right. I’m sorry. He’s made amends, right? He’s spent the time since he came back doing right by those people that he hurt. You’re right.” The longer Tony speaks, the more it looks like it physically hurts him to say sorry.

“Wait, you actually like Loki?” Jane asks, her smile in slight disbelief.

“Didn’t he save your life before?” You throw at her, having heard all about her infection by the Aether and how she’d helped Thor save many worlds.

It’s intimidating and not a story you’d easily forget.

At the time, you’d wondered how you’re ever going to compare to that. She’s helped Thor save Earth twice. What can you do?

Your words have the desired effect, and she quickly deflates as you meet Thor’s eye and sigh slowly.

“They don’t mean anything by it, cherub,” Thor promises, his voice soft and gentle and soothing.

You see the way Jane’s head twists in your direction at his pet name for you but he reaches up to take hold of your chin and turn your face towards his.

“Loki is lucky to have your loyalty.” He praises, looking genuinely happy about it too, but the smile leaves quickly in favor of his curiosity. “But how did you learn about different types of energy?”

“Loki hacked into the S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe when I told him that I wasn’t sure that I was up for the task of being Queen and wife of an Avenger since I knew almost nothing about anything. I-I did a lot of reading.” You admit, heart in arrest as you gauge everyone’s reaction to Loki’s deceit. “But he only did it because I was crying and really worried and I was almost having a straight up panic attack, and he wanted to help so he offered me a place to learn and I couldn’t-I didn’t have it in me to say no even when he told me how he was going to get me the info so if you’re going to blame anyone, blame me because I was feeling so inadequate and he was just trying to make me feel better.”

Once again, the room is left in silence, save for Thor who smiles at you and reaches around to grab the back of your neck and give it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s alright. We’re not angry. Any of us, right?” As he looks around at everyone, they all nod quickly, giving you reassuring smiles save for Tony who has his arms crossed over his chest now, hand covering his mouth as he shakes with silent laughter.

“You’re angry?” You ask him, and he startles slightly when he realizes you’re talking to him.

“Me? Oh, no. No, I’m not. I just can’t wait to tell Fury that Loki hacked into his servers.” Tony bursts into laughter and has to turn away from all of you and move back into the kitchen to get a hold of himself.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat, reaching down to take hold of Thor’s hand, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, love. Never.” He smiles at you, then pulls you down to kiss your forehead before rising and moving to stand behind you. “Can you get to work on detecting the type of energy it was that destroyed your instruments?”

Jane straightens up out of her slouched pouting as she realizes that he’s talking to her, “Yes. I can. That’s kind of why I came here, to get some help from Bruce. It could also be gamma, so I wanted to consult with him before I made any decisions.”

Bruce lumbers forward between Nat and Bucky, waving Jane over, “We can go now? I don’t exactly have an appetite at the moment. If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Jane shakes her head and moves for him as he turns to lead the way.

Before she can get too far, she stops and turns to look at you and Thor as he moves back to take his seat next to you, your hands pulled up to his lips.

“Uh, congrats again, both of you,” With a firm nod, she turns and leaves you all to your breakfast.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We don’t have to cut our honeymoon short?”

“Definitely not.” Thor frowns, “I would quit my job as King of Asgard if we had to end our private time.”

You smile, despite the pit in your stomach, “You can’t quit, silly.”

“I can. Loki would be more than happy to take over.”

“Well, I won’t let you quit. You’re an amazing King.”

“You’re my wife. You are clearly biased in my favor. I can’t believe a word you say.”

You chuckle at his playful banter, but after a few seconds, your worry for the people of your kingdom takes over.

“But really, Thor. If the threat coming is the same thing that destroyed Jane’s equipment, shouldn’t we go home and, I don’t know, deal with it?”

Thor breathes in deep, considering your words as he finishes pulling off his armor, tossing the last piece onto his red cape leaving him in a plain dark shirt and pants.

In a clear attempt to distract you, he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a distraction.

Mmmph!

“I already have Sif and Hilde working on it. Loki is managing things with the palace, beefing up security for when we get there and until Tony and Bruce can come and make their own modifications.”

“Then we can enjoy our last four days?”

“Enjoy them?!” Thor moves to you, slipping his hand down around the waist of your skirt where it intertwines with the lower piece and with a firm tug, he rips through the fabric leaving only the bodice.

You gasp, hand pressed to your chest as you laugh in surprise.

“I’m going to impregnate you in the next four days if it’s the last thing I do.”

Oh my.

“No, turn around for me cherub, so I can finish ripping this dress off of you.” He coaxes you around and leans down to press a kiss to your back, then rips down the back of your bodice with more firm tugs that shake your body.

His lips trail open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, hands gripping the flesh of your thighs with a possessive squeeze.

Despite your worries, it doesn’t seem like seeing Jane has affected his desire for you in any way. Somehow you’d never believed his devotion to you, until now.

With meeting Jane now that you’re married out of the way, and Thor’s cock still solid as he rutts into you from behind as he strips you, you feel a lot more secure in the emotions and passion you’re able to summon from him.

Almost like he knows you need it, “Tell me you love me, cherub.”

How can he doubt it?

“I love you, puppy.” It just slips out and Thor freezes.

You panic, turning to look at him because you hadn’t meant to say it, and it was something you’d just been calling him in your head in secret because of that look he gives you when he’s begging you to give in for whatever he wants in the moment.

“I’m-” He cuts you off, smashing his mouth down onto you, open wide as he delves into you, tasting you, tongue searching and coaxing.

“Mmmph,” You whimper, wrapping your arms around him to grip the back of his shirt tight.

He suddenly tosses you back onto your bed, pulling his shirt over his head and then shoving his pants down before he grabs your ankles and pulls you towards the edge. With wide splayed out hands he pushes your thighs open and settles between them, two fingers run up along your slick slit making you quiver.

“Tell me again,” he orders, voice so deep you feel it in your toes.

“I love you, pu-AH!”

[juminly]

A Losing Game

Summary: A bet was made between Arthur & Theodorus: the mystery writer was not allowed to flirt with you for an entire month. Arthur is not one to back down from a challenge. However, he had no idea what was at stake.  Matchup story written for @dandellien​. 💙

Nobody ever said anything about the exhaustion you would feel when travelling through time. Whatever happened when you went through that door, it clearly drained all of the energy from your body. You were hungry, thirsty, had a huge headache and were craving sleep. Comte had seen the look on your face when you had arrived, apparitions of dark circles forming around your eyes, more than enough proof that you did need to rest and be cared for.

While the pureblood accompanied you to your room, giving you but a glimpse of what you would face in the 19th century, being in a mansion filled with unknown men, you were evidently soothed by his graceful and eloquent demeanor, putting you at ease even though he had insinuated that the residents were not normal men. Not normal was a light way to put it because they were far from normal in more ways that you expected.

Historical figures that you knew quite well, seen them in history books, math, physics or even science books. You were already familiar with vampires, the myth and the fantasy of these creatures warped around multitude of novels, movies and various forms of art. Surprised, yes you were. Scared, not necessarily. You would have to wait and see things with your own eyes before judging and assessing the matter. How true could it be? You were beginning to wonder why did you even end up in such a place? Were you struck by some goddess of Fortune or was this a curse that you were damned to survive somehow?

Sebastian had already set up a light yet scrumptious supper for you and had drawn a nice warm bath for you to relax your body before actually realizing where you were and what kind of situation you were in, once you came face first with the reality of the matter. Theory was so much easier to take than reality. Anyone might have thought that they were simply trying to woo you into staying and keeping your mouth shut about what you’ve seen but they were clearly good people, no malicious intent detected in either Sebastian or Comte. But what about the others? After your bath, Sebastian was kind enough to sit by you and answer any questions you may have since he was the only human in the vampire-filled mansion and he graciously answered all the questions you had, especially about the other residents.

Were you prepared for what was to come? You probably didn’t have an answer but a tiny little messenger came to your rescue. At the crack of dawn, you could hear barking at your door. Sebastian didn’t tell you anything about dogs, let alone pets being around so this was an interesting way to start your day. Opening the door, you found the cutest little dog looking up at you with big brown eyes that you simply couldn’t resist. Picking him up in your arms and scratching his chin (earning you quite a few licks), you had already gotten enough sleep so you took it as an opportunity to roam around and discover more about the mansion before the other residents woke up.

You obviously had no idea who the little cutie in your arms belonged to so it was fair enough to say that you were not really snooping around the mansion but actually trying to find the dog’s owner, if anyone were to stop you in your tracks and question why you were walking around in the middle of the night. As you passed by the different hallways and peeked into different rooms, you came across the different rooms and areas of the mansion, jotting down the different pieces of information in the back of your head for future reference: you came across the library and found a tall man slouched on a pile of books, sleeping soundly with the sweet scent wafting through the air; a slender man with an eyepatch who greeted you meekly in the hallway before scurrying away, another man playing the piano with beautiful silver hair, the sharpest amethyst eyes and a glare that demanded he be left alone, without using any words. Going back to the conversation you had with Sebastian, those were Leonardo, Jean and Mozart. One thing they all had in common: they were all very handsome. Extremely so.

After exploring almost every part of the mansion, you already found out where the kitchen, the pantry, the thermae, the dining room were including other rooms where the other residents used. You found yourself standing in front of, what most probably was, the main door of the mansion. Your small new friend began barking and whining, seemingly telling you in his own language that he wanted to go out but you couldn’t possibly do that. You didn’t have the owner’s permission nor did you have a leash. A resounding playful voice came from behind you with an unmistakable lilting British accent, his words echoing through the mansion’s entrance with each click of his oxfords on the grand stairs, closing the distance between you.

“Oh dear! It seems that Vic’s brimming excitement couldn’t be held back at the scent of our new beautiful guest. If I may be so bold, I should admit that I raise Vic to be quite a fine little champ. He certainly does have an eye for beauty.” Turning around, your eyes were locked on this man’s handsome features, his tousled midnight blue hair, striking blue eyes and the beauty mark so delicately positioned by his lips, you couldn’t help but take in his appearance as he had gotten much closer, now standing before you. The smirk on his lips was also very telling, he had been assessing you in the same manner. Little did you know,  He heard you talking to yourself in spanish while walking through the corridors, doing your own exploring of the mansion and he came to you like a moth to a windowpane. How could he even miss the sight, the smell and the voice of a fair maiden such as yourself walking in her lonesome in this mansion full of mongrels? They were not but he would’ve loved to take advantage of sweeping a cute poppet like you off her feet. Your hair was that of iridescent flames, cascades of lava that drew him in, dark eyes of coffee. “Comte was ever so gracious to inform me that we had a guest in our midst but he had made the grave mistake of omitting the fact that you were such a resplendent poppet. Allow me to introduce myself, love.”

He was absolutely beguiled by you, even more so when you began to speak, addressing him in a firm tone, interrupting his introduction in the mere pause as he took a break. “Arthur Conan Doyle, I know who you are. Sebastian told me all about you.” He seemed pleased to know that you already heard of him but still wished that he could be the one to make his first impression on his own, without having others establish them for him. You were not taken aback by his direct approach, yet his flirtiness did not click too well with you since he had yet to know you before even trying to seemingly romance you in the way he did with all the women he had clearly done the same with. You definitely said what was on your mind, stating it clearly before making your way back to your room since Vic was now with his owner. “If you’re trying to flirt with me, then I’m sorry but you’re mistaken if you think that you can do anything of the sort. If you may excuse me now, I must go ready myself before breakfast.”

It would be safe to say that Arthur was admittedly smitten with you. The way you smoothly yet respectfully talked back to him with that accent of yours was undoubtedly a beautiful sound that he would love to hear more and more of.

During breakfast, you had finally met all the residents at once and the Comte had obviously taken it upon him to introduce you to them all before the conversation on the dining table naturally flowed from unrelated conversation between a couple of the residents, where the rest simply listened in and back to questions about you, where you came from, your background and most importantly, your time. When the amount of questions seemed to get a bit too overwhelming, Leonardo was the one who spoke up, telling the rest of the vampires that they had plenty of time to ask you all the questions they wanted over the course of the month that you had to spend with them.

As you and Sebastian busied yourselves in clearing the dishes from the table, you could hear a booming brouhaha coming from the room where you had left the rest of the vampires. Looking at the stoic butler, he simply shrugged and you busied yourself by helping the man. On the other side of the man, the residents were all focused on a discussion that happened between the infamous partners in crime: Theodorus van Gogh and Arthur Conan Doyle. Theo noticed how uncharacteristically silent Arthur was during breakfast, sipping on his glass of Blanc while his eyes never left you for a moment, as you bit into your pancakes and drank your coffee/tea, a small smile cracking on your face here and then, noticing the little things that you did. With a wolfish grin, Theo made a bet with Arthur. If the writer is able to spend an entire month without flirting with you, the sadistic entrepreneur would pay for their tab at their go-to tavern/bar for an entire year. Arthur knew what his friend was trying to do, clearly testing him and seeing if he had an ounce of self-control in him. The game was on.

He would clearly prove him wrong. Or that’s what he thought. Two years instead of one and the deal was made.

It wasn’t hard for you to find what to do in that time. The wealth of knowledge that was surrounding you, it was more than enough to fill your days with activities and studying the things that you loved the most. Leonardo and Vincent were more than happy to give you tips on drawing, giving you tips on how to sketch the human body, understanding the intricacies behind different body types in a way that allowed you also to work on fashion, different styles, looks which is something you really loved.

Spending time on your own was not a hard task! There were so many corners in the mansion where you can just spend time alone with no one bothering you. You would often find Leonardo sleeping or reading in the library, stumbling across him or he’s just napping away wherever you find yourself but that didn’t really bother you. You would grab your notebook to write or draw or grab a book that one of the residents had recommended to you and just clear your mind and wind down, finding some much needed peace in the midst of this new lifestyle that you were thrown into.

Arthur though… the man couldn’t really stay away from you. Not that he did want to, on the contrary, he absolutely loved being in the presence of an enlightened woman such as yourself but he had to take extra care not to be flirty with you. One thing that Arthur didn’t do was lose. Unfortunately yet luckily for him, Vic took a liking to you and made it easier for you to get to know each other better when you would both take him on walks, daily and multiple days in a day. He was a spoiled boy and his Master was definitely the type to spoil him rotten. It was quite refreshing just seeing a different type of playful side to him. Pure, genuine and truly affectionate. Even… boyish.

[The famous skirt chaser wasn’t doing any chasing. Whenever he wasn’t around, he was trying to get enough writing done so he could spend time with the beautiful new guest who only had a month to spend with him… everyone AND him.]

You are usually so reserved around the residents, more of an observer than a talker, at least for the first few days in the mansion. Your frequent walks with Vic and Arthur did help you loosen up:  getting to know more about Paris as you roamed around aimlessly, taken away by the depth of your conversations, the ways of the 19th century, all the little tidbits about the residents and also, see more of Arthur, besides the renown flirty playboy side, a label that everyone seems to be pinning on the handsome man. When you get deep into discussions with him, the way you get animated makes him melt. He doesn’t blatantly point it out but there is this glint of amusement and fondness in his eyes and the slightest twist in the corner of his lips, one of absolute admiration and infatuation when you do.

There is never a dull moment with Arthur: his mind is like the most intriguing, bewildering and mysterious place to be. He would try to tell you about how he comes up with the premise of his stories, would talk to you about the ideas of his books and how he gets inspired by things from his past and from his present, take you out on “dates” where you would go detective-solving… cause what better way to discover Paris and know everything there was to know about it.

He was very fond of your objectivity and honesty which definitely compliments the analytical side of your personality which he has come to see and know the more he spoke with you and from what he’s heard from Leonardo. He secretly loves your honesty also when you call him out on his shit: on why he even hates his own creations, knowing that there is hidden meanings behind whatever bogus response he gives you YET you don’t push him for more. You just let him know that he can talk to you.

In those moments, the fierceness in your eyes…he knew that it would be his demise.

He likes to pick your brain and keeps bombarding you with so many “what ifs”, possibilities and probabilities in deflecting and divergent plotlines in his stories until you end up digressing and not even discussing important elements that are crucial and necessary about his manuscripts. You always made things interesting which made him spend even more time with you, always attempting to monopolize your time in any way he can. Especially when you told him that something like MBTI personalities existed in your time, he was very interested in knowing so much more about it. You and also Sebastian jumped in to tell him all about it and his eyes lit up like firecrackers, already thinking of which characters would have which personality. He couldn’t help but feel closer to you, wanting to know you even more...intimately yet he denied himself from doing so. Yet, he couldn’t stop the kindling of affection within his heart, no matter how much he tried to push it away.

The fact that you had even more hidden talents made you even more attractive in his eyes. You knew how to play multiple instruments and didn’t care to tell him until… 2 weeks had passed since you arrived at the mansion. Arthur immediately worked his magic on Mozart somehow, getting him to teach you how to play the piano if you wanted to and had Leonardo prepare a little something special for you: a hand-crafted guitar that you could take with you when you decide to go back to the future (and the thought of you leaving saddened him so much but he didn’t dare say it, yet, the expression on his face said it all). If there is anything Arthur would be good at, and after keeping the resident devil company, persuading, convincing or bribing was an art that he had perfected. Quick-witted charmer that he was.

The sound of his boyish laughter was something that you couldn’t get enough of and that wide smile that stretched from ear to ear was absolutely the most beautiful expression that you’ve seen on him, complimenting his features in a way that suited him even more than that flirtatious mask he hides behind. He loves the look on your face when he can read your mind and knows exactly what you’re going to say before you even say it, when he teases you and especially when he’s able to draw a smile on your face: be it when he thanks you for helping brainstorm or solve a case, or when he buys you a yummy treat that he knows you’d love and enjoy (after forcing Sebastian to tell him the things you actually do enjoy eating since he had information (notes) about every single living being in than mansion. He was a goldmine, source of intel and Arthur wasn’t going to miss out on taking advantage of that fact).

Something exciting did happen, which you also didn’t expect! A trip to Madrid in Spain? It is one of the cities that is most known for it’s art and Theodorus was in need of a translator to accompany him so he can find his way around the city much easier than if he was alone (and you were also not bad company so he wouldn’t mind you tagging along, since he knows that you would appreciate the art as well, being an artist yourself.) BUT, Arthur was not having any of it. How was a young lady supposed to travel with another (very single and very handsome) man on her own? He decided to be the chaperone of your trip under the guise of exploring new avenues for an upcoming book of his that will possibly have events set in Spain (or maybe not, it didn’t even matter). Theo reminded his best friend about their bet/challenge and… well, the entrepreneur knew and told the klootzak right to his face that he’s weasling his way into this because… Well, Arthur shushed him before he could say any more than that but they both knew what he was going to say. The mystery writer wanted to wait until you left the 19th century before even thinking of admitting to others and to himself too.

After a long train ride from Paris to Madrid, Arthur made sure to book the room next to yours in case you needed anything. When you woke up in the morning, he would already be leaning next to your door with that wide boyish smile of his and his lilting “Good morning sunshine~” that evidently did things to your heart, escorting you to have breakfast together. Theo would show up to breakfast with his own bottle of syrup (Don’t even mention it. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t find the kind of syrup he liked in Spain so he got his own with him). The man was completely baffled to always find you there before him and also annoyed to see how sickeningly sweet Arthur was, doting on you a little more than he ever saw him do with any of the other skirts he’s ever pursued. This is not the normal kind of attention he gave a woman and as his best friend, this proved how deep Arthur had already fallen for you. He did throw in a few comments such as: “ Why are you treating her like a small pup? She can take care of herself. Unless she asked you to put her on a leash…”

If you thought you had fun in Paris, it was even more fun in Madrid! You went to multiple museums, galleries and countless restaurants, indulging both in the savoury and sweet of the city, getting the best taste of the city. It was hilarious seeing Arthur trying to communicate with the locals with that British accent of his and try to use whatever Spanish he caught from your brief discussions with Leonardo (where he thought he managed to catch a few words but he was horribly mistaken). You also somehow managed to get lost while going shopping, which made your time out and about together even longer. Not that either of you was complaining. You both had the time of your life and you both had smiles to match and confirm that statement.

Besides the fact that Arthur wouldn’t let go of your hand at any given moment when you were wandering the city, claiming that he wouldn’t find his way back to the hotel without you and that you were the only one that could keep him from getting lost. He also didn’t like how lots of men’s eyes lingered on you whenever they spoke to you (and the fact that he didn’t even understand what they were telling you didn’t bear well with him, he wasn’t having it at all) or just simply when you passed by and turned heads. This man was definitely not jealous (sarcasm) but he was not blind and he had eyes of his own to see just how beautiful you were, inside and out. He was just glad to be the one holding your hand, even though he held on to it “just as your friend”. Whenever Theo looked disgruntled and rolled his eyes at you two, Arthur always teased him and offered to hold his hand too if he didn’t want to feel left out, making the dutch man obviously grumble and walk away from you.

He should’ve known… He should’ve known and he beat himself over it, cursing his gloves as you were on the train, on the way back to France. While Arthur had excused himself to the restroom and decided to go get the three of you some coffee and treats, he comes back to find that you had fallen asleep… with your head on Theodorus’ shoulder. He was definitely not happy about the sight and his best friend could definitely see that, muttering a “Stop glaring at me like a rabid dog, klootzak. I don’t like this either.” Arthur stopped in his tracks, noticing how flushed your cheeks were and how your breathing was a little quicker than normal for someone who was asleep. Removing one of his gloves, he presses his palm against your forehead and your neck. You had a fever.

Arthur immediately gets into anxious doctor mode and tends to you however he can until you reach Paris, where he would be able to take care of you even better. Theo knew that this was not just some act. Arthur’s concern for you was real but it was way more than just a doctor’s oath to take care of his patients. Come on, Arthur. Who do you think you’re deceiving? He basically carried you to the carriage and also inside the mansion, giving out orders as nicely and calmly to Sebastian the moment he set foot in the mansion. He was composed, or at least, tried to be but he was also worried. A fever from exhaustion should not be taken lightly as it can turn into something worse if you didn’t get all the rest that you truly needed.

When you woke up…

Opening your eyes slowly, you blinked only to find Arthur leaning on the side of your bed. “Why are you here? It looks like you haven’t slept for ages, Arthur.” You reached out and threaded yours fingers through his tousled hair. “I know you’re worried about me, Arthur. I promise you I’ll be just fine. I know you’ve been taking good care of me and you know…  It’s just exhaustion, right? There’s nothing for you to worry about it. I already feel much better thanks to you.”

The expression on his face was so soft and tender, a “wistful” smile drawn on his usually smirked lips. He held your hand, rubbing his leather-clad thumb smoothly over it before he kissed your knuckles gently. “Rest well, my love. I refuse to leave your side.” He bit the tip of his index, pulling out his glove from his other hand and leaned and reached to check your temperature, before leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead, sighing. “You’re still a tad warm but you are indeed better. I should’ve taken your word for it.”

“And should I take your word that you kissed me just because you wanted to check my temperature?”

With that irresistible boyish smile drawn on his handsome face, he chuckled like a schoolboy that has just been caught doing something wrong. That’s how he truly was deep down and it was refreshing just seeing him like that. “Guilty as charged.”  His striking blue eyes locked on yours before faltering a little too long on your lips as he licked his own and whispered softly - “I may have ulterior motives but I assure you, my intentions are as pure as they come.” - before capturing your lips in a much awaited kiss, so sweet and tender, pouring all the affection he ached to show you before, all the pent-up emotions he strained himself not to show you in his quest in being a good friend to you.

Arthur didn’t come out of that challenge a loser, but a winner. Getting the greatest prize… no, the most priceless thing he could ever ask for: you and your love. Although it cost him a bill of 2 years worth of alcohol expenses at the bar, he was more than happy to pay it.

This man will shower you with words of affection all day long, tell you he loves you, kiss you whenever he gets the chance, in public or in private, this man is absolutely taken by you and he doesn’t even mind it. He will call you: love, darling, my lovely poppet, my sunshine and even try to throw in a few Spanish pet names: cariña, mi amor and even mi sol. You always wondered why he always referred to you as his sun or sunshine but he told you that you brightened up his life, with your honesty, your intelligence and most importantly, the joy you brought into his life.

You were surprised to discover that Arthur was BIG on cuddling. There isn’t a night that goes by (or even a nap) without cuddling. It is not for naughty reasons, as opposed to what everyone else in the mansion might think, but more for reassurance that you will always stay by his side and leave. His worst nightmare is waking up and not finding you there, the day you realize that he’s not good enough of a man for you yet he will spend his every waking moment trying to be better for you, prove that he is more than what his reputation paints him to be. He is the man that loves you, cherished you and values you even more than his own writing.

Arthur does get quite jealous sometimes. He just can’t help it. For example: he gets jealous when you sometimes get all dreamy when you listen to Mozart composing. He’s one of the biggest figures in music history so it would only be natural for you to be in awe whenever you came across him. His music does help you with your writing especially when he plays very calm tunes. It’s nothing like anything you’ve experienced before and it’s so inspiring. Arthur would frown, pout and even sulk sometimes whenever he sees that another man has captured your attention in a way that he never could (and he looks absolutely adorable when he does, like a lost whiny puppy). He would wrap his arms around you and nuzzle you when you’re writing or simply rub his hand softly on your waist while he rests his head on yours or on your shoulder. He scrambles for ways to get part of your attention or get some reassurance from you without getting in your way or becoming an inconvenience.

Kisses of affection: your knuckles, your hand and your forehead.

Warning: NSFW ahead

His kinks: everything in the book. Anything you can imagine, he’s willing to do with you. If you don’t like it, he’s up to trying the next thing with you. But a few favourites of his are: cockwarming, roleplay, edging, overstimulation, edging, BDSM and body worship. Rest assured that he will ALWAYS keep things interesting between you.

Favourite place to bite you: your thighs.

He can be whatever you want him to be in bed, he is a switch after all. He’ll worship you endlessly when he’s in command and will whine and beg for you whenever you take the reins. All he wants is to be with you, it doesn’t matter how.

You are definitely the luckiest person in the mansion, ending up with the most versatile and open lover of them. He’s willing to do everything with you, and driven by his lust and love for you, he will dirty talk until you’re soaking wet and clenching around nothing in anticipation for him and sweet talk you to tears, overwhelming you with the sweetness of love.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (74) || atz

The two of you have been drifting for an awfully long time now.

You don’t know exactly how long you’d been passed out for, or what exactly you’d been dreaming off when you were asleep, but when you’d come to, you’d realised that you were on a raft… floating all alone in the middle of a sea of great blue.

Well, all alone except for your captain lying next to you, at least.

You hadn’t remembered falling asleep, and you had most certainly not with your captain’s arms wrapped around you protectively, your head tucked into his shoulder. When you had awakened, the smell of sea salt and warm sun nudging insistently against your senses, you had startled and very nearly upended the entire raft that your lives depended on.

Now, however, you’re content with watching the gentle sunlight filtering between the clouds reflecting of the waves. You sit at the edge of the raft carefully, resisting the urge to dip your toes in the bottomless ocean, shoals of rainbow fish inspect your raft curiously and their scales glinting iridescent under liquid diamonds while you wait for your captain to awake.

The sea is calm, the sky is a soft forget-me-not blue, and if you didn’t know any better, you can almost believe that you’re back on the deck of the Treasure.

How’s Wooyoung doing? Does he know that you and your captain are missing? Is your master with him, comforting him right now as Yeosang and Mingi furiously wrack their minds for where the two of you could have gone?

For some reason, though, you’re not the least bit worried. The sea is calm, and so are you.

All of a sudden, there’s a groan behind you, and you turn around to see your captain attempting to sit up, one hand on his head - where a painful knot had bloomed from a hit he’d received from earlier - and he had lost his eyepatch sometime during the massive storm. Now one green eye blinks blearily, clouded with sleep, and then fixes on you. There’s a hint of confusion, before it clears and his lips part to form a word.

“Chin Hae?”

“You’re finally awake.” You say brightly, turning around to look at him. For you, he manages a smile, and sits up completely, the last, tattered rags of his red jacket that you’d put around his shoulders falling into his lap.

Hongjoong picks it up, inspects it briefly, and laughs, dropping it onto the raft. “So that’s it for you, old friend.”

You wince sheepishly, turning to look at him more clearly. He’s dressed simply now, in a white shirt and his patchwork pants, green eye clear as an emerald sea. “I might have done the last blow to it... it was pretty beaten up so I tore up some parts of it and used it to clean the blood off your face.”

Your captain lets out a little laugh and shakes his head. “Well, we’re both alive, so I have no complaints. It’s a pity I lost that rope, though.” His smile turns a hint fainter, nostalgia painted on his face. “It was the last memory I had of her.”

You glance over at him. “Your benefactor? That was her only gift to you when you were abandoned on that island, am I right?”

He nods quietly, fondly gazing out at the ocean. “Maybe it returned to the sea, like where she came from. But,” a playful twinkle comes into his eyes, “that isn’t the only gift she gave me. Look at this.”

Curiously, you lean over as your captain kneels at the water’s edge, sliding his fingers into the warm water. The fish at your raft scatter for a moment, startled by the sudden intrusion, but then come up to him boldly, without fear, seemingly exploring his hand.

But that isn’t the only thing that happens. In your belly, you feel a gentle tug, then all of a sudden the water shifts and the raft starts moving.

“The blessing of a sea god, huh...” Hongjoong says quietly, as the raft picks up speed, although there isn’t a sail to catch the wind in the least. “The sea will always be on your side, she told me. I guess it has, for most of my life since then. That’s why,” he turns to smile at you, and warmth settles in your chest. “The two of us will be fine. The sea connects everything, the crew will definitely find us, and take us home. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

You study him for a second, and then nod. “I wasn’t really worried, but thanks for the reassurance, captain.” Hongjoong looks a little startled before he laughs awkwardly, scratching his head with a boyish grin that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Oh... just pretend that I didn’t say anything, then.” He sits next to you, and the sea breeze caresses your face gently. Suddenly your captain laughs aloud, lying back on the raft, and you turn around to see him looking the most carefree you’ve ever seen him, his one green eye twinkling.

“We were pretty stupid, weren’t we?”

“I think that would be an understatement,” you say, and then Hongjoong breaks out into peals of laughter. It’s a beautiful sound, clear and bright, and one that you feel that you don’t hear often enough on the Treasure. You suppose that as Captain, Hongjoong still needs to maintain some sort of authority, but now it seems like he fully intends to make the most use of the time he has as a simple man on a raft.

Glad that you’ve been able to make him smile, you turn away for a second to hide the flush you feel on your cheeks, but then suddenly you feel a tug on your sleeve.

When you look at your captain, he grins at you, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Have you ever heard of drinking a fish?”

You stare.

What?

>>>

Hongjoong squats precariously at the edge of the raft, a crudely fashioned fishing spear in hand, made from a loose piece of timber pried from the raft and the long nail that had once held it in place.

“Captain, drinking a fish sounds... weird.” You tell him, but Hongjoong simply continues to focus on the fish darting about beneath the surface of the water, spear poised and eyes shining with determination.

Another few minutes of silence pass by and your captain hasn’t moved an inch, so you decide to reach out and tug lightly at his shoulder to pull him back. “It’s okay, captain, I mean, we aren’t starving yet or anything-”

He lunges.

“Captain!” You shriek, barely managing to grab onto the back of his shirt before he goes toppling into the water. As a result, the two of you nearly go splashing about in the ocean with the fish he was trying so hard to catch, until your captain whirls around nimbly, one arm coming up to pull you hard against his chest before you fall into the ocean.

“I’m fine!” He laughs jovially, and before you can tell your heart to stop trying to jump out of your mouth, he holds up his fishing spear. To your surprise, a large, silver fish wriggles on the end, attempting to leap back into the ocean. Hongjoong pins it to the raft, grinning at you excitably with a child’s delight in his eyes. “Got it!”

For some reason, your heart stumbles. It’s rare you see your captain so happy, so unrestrained. Laughing over something so small like catching a single fish? It’s like you’re discovering new facets to him that you would have never had the opportunity to on board on the Treasure, and for some reason, getting tossed into the middle of nowhere doesn’t seem as bad as it sounds if your captain can smile like this.

He wrestles the fish off the hook, and immediately the waves pick up again, pushing you to god knows where. The fish is large, about as long as his hands put together, and he presents it to you proudly. “Success, Chin Hae! Maybe we don’t need the Treasure after all!”

You stare at him for a second, but his smile is infectious and you fight to keep yours at bay. “Captain, we caught one fish. Seonghwa-oppa calls me a big eater, you know.”

“I’ll catch ten fish for you, then.” He says earnestly, holding up his fishing spear and eye impossibly soft. “We could live out here on a tiny raft and go where the current takes us. Settle on shore in a small fishing town and be a fisherman, not too well known but friendly with everyone.” His voice suddenly dips into nostalgia, pulling at your heartstrings. “Watching the sun rise over the sea every dawn and living a peaceful life with all of the crew, without fighting or running.”

You look at him quietly, legs tugged up to your chest as he begins to cut into the fish with a small knife and a steady, skilled hand. “Is that... is that what you want?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a fisherman when I was a kid.” Is all he says as he slices the fish in half easily, looking out to sea before he lets out a humorless chuckle. “My father always told me I was destined for something bigger, to be the key and map to whatever to his treasure, but I became a pirate. Nothing like the quiet life I dreamed about.” He turns to look at you, and his eye holds such gentleness you feel like you want to cry. “ It was worth it, though.  To meet the rest of the crew, and to meet you.”

You look at your feet, rocking back and forth quietly. “Well, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. Maybe your father was right when he said you were destined for something greater. All of the crew, we didn’t have homes until we found you and the Treasure. So thank you for giving us a family, captain.”

A small, secret smile tugs at Hongjoong’s lips, but he doesn’t look at you. A hint of red dusts along his high cheekbones. “You know, no one in a family calls each other captain. So you should call me-”

“I guess we’re not family then.” You answer instantly and Hongjoong pouts, pulling apart the fish with his fingers. “That’s so mean of you, Chin Hae. When we get back, I’m going to use my authority to make you call me Hongjoong.”

You laugh, fingers folding around the key in the pocket of your pants. “When we get back... I’ll have a gift for you.”

He eyes you suspiciously. “It’s not a doll, is it? Seonghwa’s traumatised me enough with those, and I don’t need a repeat of the Pom Pom incident, thanks.”

You shudder. No one needs a repeat of the Pom Pom incident, you think. Hongjoong then holds up the sliced fish to you with a wide grin on his face. “Now, bottoms up!”

You stare at him.

“Huh?”

“You can’t drink the sea water, but if you ever need to survive on a raft, you can get drinkable fluid from big fishes.” Hongjoong announces, waving the fish in front of you. Its bulbous eyes meet yours and you make a face. “What do you mean?”

“Watch carefully.” Hongjoong tells you, and lowers his mouth to the fish. You gape in silent horror as his lips wrap around the fish - the fish’s eyeball! - and sucks hard.

Before you can shriek, there’s a soft pop sound and Hongjoong swallows cheerfully, looking up at you. An eyeball stares back at you from between his teeth, and you instantly cover your eyes from the sight. “Dehydration seems like a good option now, thanks.”

“Aww, come on. These are survival skills I picked up living on the island. Dying is one hell of a motivator, you know.” He offers you the fish again, but his smile is cheeky, teasing like you’ve never seen it before. It makes your heart stumble, fall and fly all at once. “Give it a go!”

“No!”

You laugh, pulling away. You wobble a little on the raft, but Hongjoong is by your side in an instant, fingers wrapped around your wrist to keep you upright. It feels like you’re the only two people in the world.

It feels nice.

It’s almost... almost like you could forget...

Suddenly inexplicably content, you sit down on the raft and lie back, eyes closed. Hongjoong peers at you from above, fish still cradled in his hands. “Chin Hae?”

You look at him, his ruffled, windblown hair, the slight catlike curve of his lips, the green of his eye, the pattern of the scar over his eye, and look even more. More memories, more things to remember.

So that when you leave, you’ll be taking more with you than you’d come with.

In response, you smile and simply say, “nothing.” You should tell captain, you hear your master say in your head. But in response to his words, you simply grin and hold out a hand to him.

“Come on, captain.”

You hear him let out a humored huff, before the raft rocks a little when he lies down next to you. His hand wraps around your human one, and he looks up at the sky, blue and clear and unending. You watch him for a while, before your gaze follows his and you reason with yourself.

Just a little while longer.

In the distance, you see a dark shape approaching on the horizon. Home, your heart tells you, but another voice, quieter, more still whispers in your ear gently. It’s your final destination now, ****.

Please.

Your fingers wrap around his, and he interlaces his with yours, eternally warm, impossibly tender.

Just a bit longer with him.

Unconsciously, your wooden hand drifts to your ankles, and a bittersweet smile pulls at your lips.

Just a bit longer with them.

And when your eyes close, you think you see a little boy standing in front of you, rope in hand as he looks up at you with a single familiar green eye, filled with raw emotion.

What’s your name?

And in your dream, you finally tell him.

It’s Chin Hae.

[puckwritesstuff]

What if... Thor caught Loki and Sigyn was the one who accidentally fell at the Bifrost?

Not going to lie, that would change a lot. Though Sigyn falling would be much more of an accident than Loki "accidentally" letting go of the one thing he was holding onto and plummeting to his presumed death.

Thank you for the ask!

---

Heimdall stood at the shattered edge of the Bifrost bridge, keeping watch over the Nine Realms as was his duty. Thor approached softly.

“Is there any..?” he asked.

Heimdall shook his head. “She has fallen out of my sight.”

“I’m sorry,” Thor said. “I didn’t mean for this.”

“It was the only thing you could do,” Heimdall said.

“I wasn’t fast enough,” Thor said. “Loki’s not the only one that blames me, I would not be surprised if—”

“She’s still alive,” Heimdall said. “The Bifrost assures me that she is.”

Thor gave Heimdall a quizzical look.

“It doesn’t speak as such,” Heimdall said. “But in my duties as Guardian of the Bifrost, I have been able to… commune with it. The destruction of the bridge hasn’t completely severed my connection. Or hers.”

“I didn’t think she had a connection to it,” Thor said.

“She didn’t, not until recently,” Heimdall said. “I can’t reach her, and I don’t know where she is, but she’s alive. You might want to let your brother know that before he does something drastic.”

Thor nodded. “That will bring him comfort, I think.”

“Not much,” Heimdall said. “I can also tell that she’s in pain.”

---

Sigyn fell to her hands and knees. The burn scars on her arms were like cracks in her skin that revealed the Bifrost’s glow just beneath the surface. Her eyes were filled with the iridescent light, and she saw so much. A bird on Vanaheim brooded over her nest, the eggs close to hatching. On Midgard, a man and woman were unconvincingly trying to convince their friends they were still in love. In his cell on Asgard, Loki cried in relief as Thor told him that she was still alive. Sigyn reached out for them— they were right in front of her, like she could just touch them, and she’d be home…

Ebony Maw sent glass spikes into the cracks in her arms, and she screamed. She collapsed further to the ground. She couldn’t move her arm, and the glass pressed deeper into the glowing lines. Liquid light poured out of her arm like blood and pooled beneath her.

“Where is the Tesseract?” Ebony asked.

“I don’t know!” she cried. “Please, I don’t—”

The Bifrost flashed her mind away, and she saw the cube clearly, being handled by a man in an eyepatch. She flashed back and covered her mouth.

“Ah,” Ebony said. “So you do know.”

“I’ll never tell,” she said.

“We’ll see,” he said.

She felt his telekinesis grip her and lift her from the ground. He brought her to another rock in the Abyss and forced her to kneel before a throne.

“Father,” Ebony said, bowing.

The giant in the throne stood. His skin was violet, and he wore armor that shone without an obvious light source. He stepped down, looking over the girl.

“She knows the location of the Tesseract,” Ebony said. “But she withstands my tortures and refuses to speak.”

The giant nodded. “Bring me the Scepter.”

A long scepter with a brilliant jewel in the head was brought to the giant. He gently placed the blade under her chin and lifted her head so that she looked at him.

“Tell me now,” the giant said. “And you can take your place amongst my children.”

She sneered. “I already have a father.”

“So be it.”

He tapped the end of the Scepter against her chest and blue light swirled around her. She could feel it push into her mind and force her out of it, putting something else in, something that trod all over her and tore the information out of her.

“Midgard,” she said. “It’s on Midgard. The people of that planet call it Earth.”

The giant nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “You will go and retrieve it for me.”

Her mind screamed. The Bifrost raged in her, reaching out for Asgard, trying to find Heimdall, but it couldn’t reach far enough, pulled back by the force that was quickly consuming her mind.

“Yes, my lord,” she said.

She stood and he handed the Scepter to her. Holding it forced her mind further down, quieting the screams and quelling the Bifrost. She suddenly knew things, things she couldn’t have known. The giant’s name was Thanos, and he had just burdened her with a glorious purpose.

“I will prepare my army,” Thanos said. “And we will take the planet under our protection.”

“Very good, Father,” Ebony said.

“I will attempt to activate the Tesseract from here,” Sigyn said. “My magic should be able to work with the Space Stone that is inside of it.”

“Find a scientist who understands it,” Thanos said. “Have him use it to bring my army to the planet.”

“As you order,” Sigyn said.

“Now, go,” Thanos said. “And bring my peace to that world.”

Ebony and Sigyn bowed and left.

[subwalls]

WHUMPTOBER 2021 - 4/30

No. 4 - TRUST FALL “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed

Also available on AO3!

 Sapnap’s day starts off with his shitty apartment flooding ankle-deep in unidentifiable monsterly fluids, which sucks.

 It’s not as dangerous as that one time the whole building came alive and tried to eat its residents, but it’s definitely messier, which is arguably worse.

 This is the kind of thing most people usually take as a sign from the universe that they should go over to a friend’s place and sulk for the rest of the day. Anyone who’s survived more than a week in this clusterfuck of a city knows to trust their instincts on that—which usually means getting the hell out of dodge.

 Unfortunately, Sapnap has kind of garbage instincts.

 Oh, they’re fantastic at keeping him alive, sure. He’s coming up on his one-year anniversary of being here, and he’ll definitely be celebrating that at one of those dubiously legal and definitely non-human bars, but the fact that he’s      still     here, squelching through monster goop and all…

 Sapnap wrinkles his nose as he sidesteps the still-twitching corpse in the lobby. Some idiot with an organ graft from the End, probably, which explains the goop seeping into everything. Shouldn’t the drawbacks of End tissue be common knowledge by know? Specifically the fact that it implodes at the first hint of water?

 Most apartment complexes these days have sprinklers installed on the doorstep for the explicit purpose of enforcing their dumb Huma-only policies.

 Sapnap, with his Netherborn lungs, counts himself lucky. He looks Huma,      is    legally Huma, and can hold his breath when the sprinkler douses him. So his landlord’s none the wiser.

 Probably.

 Eh, if he was going to be evicted for that, it would’ve already happened. Work comes first, and if Sapnap’s lucky, he’ll be too worn out to even notice if they’ve cleaned up the mess by the time he comes back.

 He pats the left side of his face, checking that his eyepatch is in place like it should be, and walks out into the thoroughfare of SMP City.

 Immediately, the world drops out from under him. Sapnap whirls around, reaching out for the wall that should be right there, but the thin clouds slip through his fingers without so much as a whisper of substance.

 The wind forces his good eye shut. He forces it open again, squinting, all too aware of the warmth smoldering in his chest. His vision blurs weirdly in a way that could’ve been from wind pressure or because he’s been out for longer than he thinks. After a few seconds of blinking furiously, it clears.

 Oh. That’s not the sky.

 That’s the void.

 Those are two very different things. One is up, and the other is… well. All around the city, truthfully; it swallows the ocean and heaven alike into the dragon’s maw, marking out the abyssal boundary of where the other worlds bleed into this one.

 It’s part of what makes commute in and out of the place troublesome, because too-big vehicles that get too close end up attacked by the aforementioned dragon—not that anyone’s every seen the whole breadth of the thing, just an errant wing or tail that swings up to demolish a plane or ship, black scales iridescent against the darkness.

 The fact that Sapnap is standing on a platform in the middle of this beast’s territory is, as they say, Not Good.

 Leaning over the edge, Sapnap sees no support holding up the square of rock he’s somehow ended up on. It’s just floating over the misty emptiness. Looking up yields nothing of note either; he must be pretty low in the void if he can only see the wispy fog instead of the surface.

 Something silver flashes at the edge of his vision, and Sapnap ducks out of the way of a shattered blade. His cheek flares, and he slaps a hand against it, wincing.

 The metal tumbles into the void. Sapnap pulls his hand away, and blinks at the smear of blood left behind.

 “GREETINGS,” bellows out from somewhere overhead. A long scythe of a blade lowers from the fog, and Sapnap backs up to the edge of his floating rock as its tip comes to a gentle rest over his throat.

 “Why am I here?” Sapnap demands. He slouches backward, sticking his hands into his pockets like the perfect image of a begrudged student. If it’s to hide the trembling of his arms, that’s a secret between him and the phone in his pocket. “Who are you?”

 “I AM UNKNOWN, COLLECTOR OF DIVINE INSTRUMENTS, PROSTHESIS MADE BY THE GREATER POWERS,” the voice booms. “I AM HERE TO COLLECT YOURS.”

 “Uh, divine what now?” Sapnap says. He presses his thumb against the cool screen of his phone, making sure it’s facing towards himself so the light doesn’t bleed out. “I don’t know what those are. You’ve got the wrong person.”

 The scythe jerks upward, nicking open his chin, trailing up his face.

 And comes to rest directly over his eyepatch.

 Sapnap stills.

 “THE ALL-SEEING EYES OF THE GODS.”

 “What about them?”

 “YOU HAVE THEM. OR SO I THOUGHT,” the voice adds, and the scythe withdraws a little. “I DID THINK YOU FELL FOR THAT TRAP TOO EASILY FOR A TRUE WIELDER… IT WAS EITHER YOU OR YOUR SYNDICATE FRIEND, THEY SAID, AND THE FANG HUNTER IS MORE TROUBLE THAN I’D LIKE.”

 Syndicate friend. Fang hunter.      Dream.     Sapnap's heart plummets to his heels, but he tries to keep an even keel. “Who’s they?” he asks over the sound of his phone unlocking. As subtly as possible, he drags his thumb across the screen.

 “AH, NOW THAT WOULD BE TELLING, WOULDN’T IT?” A low cackle rolls through the fog like thunder, ruby light flashing faintly in the distance. “OF COURSE, IF YOU GIVE ME WHAT I WANT, I WILL GLADLY TELL.”

 “You… want to take the Eyes,” Sapnap says, slowly.

 “I DO.” A metallic      click     echoes overhead, and two more scythes descend, grinding against each other in a thin shriek of metal on metal. “BUT IF YOU ARE NOT THE ONE WHO WIELDS THEM…”

 Inhale, feel the air warm in his throat, embers into flame. “What’re you gonna do,” Sapnap says, “kill me?”

 “AND WASTE SUCH A RESOURCE? NO, NO. YOU ARE BEST KEPT HERE,” Unknown says, amused. Another blade comes low, and clinks against the phone in his pocket. Sapnap freezes. “GO ON. ASK YOUR FRIEND TO SAVE YOU. CALL THEM HERE. THESE THINGS ARE ALWAYS EASIER TO NEGOTIATE FACE TO FACE.”

 Well now he doesn’t want to do it.

 Sapnap snorts, and a tongue of flame washes over the back of his teeth. “I’m not going to be your good little hostage,” he spits.

 “BUT YOU ALREADY ARE,” says Unknown, and the scythes all turn to slam into the rock.

 Ruptures tear across the surface of the stone, and Sapnap swears as he quickly shuffles onto the biggest piece. The edge crumbles away; far below, the fog shifts. A dull purple glow starts to brighten in the abyss, a tell-tale sign of the dragon waking, and Sapnap throws himself at the scythe in preparation to climb up the weapon-limb if he must—

 His vision      sings.    

 Suddenly, the world takes on a blue tint. Everything jumps into high-definition, and the fog might as well not exist, and Sapnap can see the arching crimson light of a      fucking Blood Breed     looming above him, Unknown is a      Blood Breed,     Sapnap doesn’t stand a chance even if he can read out the letters of their true name from the red aura surrounding them—he looks away, and notices for the first time the golden threads spanning the width of the void, glittering with magic.

 In the back of his mind, he registers that he’s looking at the spell that stopped the Great Collapse, the one that saved the worlds from folding in on each other into utter destruction.

 The rest of his mind is a little busy      screaming,     though.

 A displeased snarl rips through the air as another set of scythes cleave down towards him, and Sapnap exhales a spout of flame that slows them down only barely enough to dodge.

 “OH,” says Unknown, “OH, OH! IS THAT AN EYE? YOU      DO     HAVE ONE! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU COULD HIDE THE GODS’ GIFT LIKE THAT—YOU MUST LET ME HAVE IT, HUMA, IT IS WASTED IN YOUR SOCKET!”

 Sapnap shouts, “You can take it over my dead body!” and throws himself at the ground when a blade tries to cut him in half at the hip.

 “GLADLY!” Unknown dives, now, their nebulous aura now a very clear and vivid blood-red glare into Sapnap’s vision, ruby light spinning down their bony weapon-limbs like latticework.

 Sapnap doesn’t flinch, and even swings his head upward to let the Eye watch and watch and watch—thinking      this is what I go through for you     with only half the bitterness he really feels—which is the only reason he notices the other one.

 Two Blood Breeds in a single day. Fan-fucking-tastic.

 A blade pins him through the shoulder in a burst of hot-eyed pain, but the rest all      miss     as a thin red string wraps around Unknown’s limbs and yanks them upward, into the low-hanging mist.

 Sapnap blinks. He can still see them, thrashing against a thread that yanks Unknown around like a plaything before throwing them aside. It’s connected to the second Blood Breed, which is descending towards him now.

 Okay, okay, it’s fine, he has a little time. A Blood Breed’s weakness is their true name, so if he can just extract that, he might be able to… burn it, or something.

 Sapnap takes a deep breath, gives his vision the middle finger just so the other end of the Eye can see it, and then focuses      hard     on that deep red aura.

 For the most part, it’s just a storm of crimson, red and red and ruby and blood, but Sapnap keeps      looking     and his one working eye whirs like a machine as it narrows, cutting through the noise, piercing down until he can see the heart and the core and… at the very end, a thin string of letters in a language he shouldn’t know.

 The All-Seeing Eye of the Gods pours it all into his head:       red red crimson-winged elder ⍊𝙹╎ᓵᒷ↸╎⍊ᒷ ᓵ∷ᔑℸ ̣ ╎リᒷ ⍑||!¡╎ ̇/ᒷꖌ ℸ ̣ ᒷᓵ⍑リ𝙹ʖꖎᔑ↸ᒷred blood red red war red—  

 “Tech—” he begins, and promptly chokes as a hand slaps over his mouth.

 “Shush,” says the Blood Breed, calm as anything, quite suddenly right beside him. “Yeah, I got there in time, of course I did. Hey, you’re Sapnap, right?”

 Sapnap tries to melt him on pure force of will alone.

 “I’m gonna let go of you now. Maybe don’t be rude and expose me in front of an idiot like that, alright?” The Blood Breed exaggeratedly steps back, and Sapnap immediately flings himself to the opposite side of the very tiny floating rock they’re standing on. “Great, cool, nice talk. Not awkward at all.”

 “What do you want?” Sapnap demands, bristling.

 “You don’t recognize me?”

 Sapnap pauses. He gives the Blood Breed another once-over, taking in the plush red cape and royal garb. Looks at the name again. Nothing rings a bell. “Should I?”

 “Eh. Guess not. We’re a little short on time anyway, so introductions can wait, I guess.” As if on cue, the void begins to rumble. The dragon must be      inches     from rushing out.

 Sapnap waves his hand through what he’s sure is a gear of light blue energy rotating in front of his face, trying to tell his friend to let it go. He doesn’t want him to watch him die.

 The Blood Breed interrupts him with a hand on his wrist. “Hey. Do you trust me?”

 “Hell no.”

 “Smart,” the Blood Breed says, and shoves him off the edge.

[prairiesongserial]

12.13

There wasn’t going to be a burlesque show that night for the good people of Kill Devil Hills, but the burlesque performers weren’t planning on surrendering the tent, either. They had Ezra and a new guitar player captive, and the game of the hour was trying to find a song that both of them knew and could play. Poor Cody was having trouble keeping up, missing notes and breaking rhythm with Ezra.

Friday was wearing sequined underwear, exactly as she was meant to be. She’d spent the last hour going through costumes, now that she and the rest of the burlesque performers were at a truce. It had really only been Abernathy, the red-haired woman with the pink eyepatch, who’d had a problem with her. Abernathy had disappeared with Ezra for a while to handle something or other, and while she was away, Friday had made nice with everyone else. She’d exchanged the contentious blond wig for a bubblegum pink one that was as long as her old blue wig had been - though she still had her eye on the blond. Short hair was so convenient. She’d be back for it.

“How many routines do you put on per night?” she asked as she shimmied herself into a very tight dress. The dress was cut so low it showed almost all of the black sequined bra she had on underneath. It had not been made with the flat-chested in mind.

“That depends,” said Shoshana, one of the other dancers. Friday had decided she liked Shoshana. She was dressed in a too-big button down tucked into too-big pants belted in place. Her sun-bleached brown curls were cropped just under her ears. Most importantly, she didn’t seem to have any intention of hazing Friday. Shoshana sat on top of an unopened crate labeled “heels - very high,” chewing an unlit cigarette. “We try to stick to five minutes per routine.”

“Oh, we did them a bit longer at the Ace,” Friday said. “And with music in between. Course, we were looking for the audience to stay and buy drinks all night, not tip every girl.”

Friday started to wiggle out of the dress. It wasn’t right, and there was a red one folded in the bottom of the crate that had her eye.

“That wouldn’t work here,” Shoshana said. “People hold onto their money tighter when there’s other tents still to visit - or if they saved the burlesque show for last, when their wallet’s already light. Better to get them in and out for the next round of tippers.”

A quick audience turnover sounded like a convenient set-up for any pickpockets working the crowd, but Friday decided not to say anything. Business was business.

Friday stepped into the red dress. It was made of shot silk, giving it an iridescent shimmer. It had a long slit up the side that ended at Friday’s hip. The dress had no straps, making the sequined bra look ridiculous underneath. She twisted herself to try to take it off without taking off the dress first.

“That one looks good on you,” Shoshana said. She finally lit her cigarette, as if only just realizing she hadn’t done so already.

“Thanks,” Friday said. “How nice do you think I have to be to Abernathy to keep that blond wig?”

“Pretty nice,” Shoshana admitted. “Good thing Abernathy likes me.” She took a long drag on her cigarette. “Hey, sunshine?” she called, grinning to show off a chrome tooth.

Abernathy, draped across the piano on the other side of the tent, looked up. “What?”

“I want the blond wig,” Shoshana replied.

Abernathy frowned at her. “To give to…”

“Look at her,” Shoshana said. “She’s a mess without it. Not fit to be seen.”

Friday crossed her arms. “Well, hold on,” she said.

Abernathy slid gracefully down from the piano, a hiss of air escaping from her false leg.

The roar of a truck engine interrupted the exchange. Abernathy continued to approach, but she walked past Friday without so much as looking at her. Friday followed her out of the tent. The truck was still a ways down the road, but it definitely belonged to the circus. It was the same truck that Val and Johannes had left in that morning..

Abernathy watched it approach. Behind them, the piano came to a discordant stop, leaving Cody’s guitar alone to practice the last few bars. In seconds, Ezra had joined them outside of the tent.

“Does he have any idea what time it is?” he muttered.

The truck approached quickly, spitting up dust under the tires. It didn’t rejoin the circle where the other trucks were parked, but shuddered to a halt at an angle right in front of Friday, Abernathy, and Ezra. Johannes tumbled out of the driver’s side, not bothering to close the door.

Friday’s eyes widened. Johannes was covered in ash. For a split second, she was looking at Val stumbling out of the back door of his church. Johannes strode up to Ezra and started talking quickly, but Friday’s ears were ringing. She couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Val?” she said.

A crowd was growing around the truck as Val climbed down from the passenger side. He slammed the door closed behind him. She couldn’t see him - all she got was a passing glimpse through the windshield before the sun’s glare cut her short. Friday shouldered her way past several carnies, then finally turned the corner to face him.

She was staring the past right in the face. There were streaks of ash down Val’s cheeks. And his hair - his hair had caught fire in places. His shirt alone was suspiciously clean, as if he’d been wounded and treated and covered up again.

“It’s not even four o’clock, Friday,” he said chidingly, but with the slightest smile, as he leaned back against the truck. He averted his eyes in that infuriatingly polite way he always would when she was dressed for a performance.

Whatever Friday had been about to say to him fled her mind. Two separate memories of Val were smashed together in front of her, and it didn’t make sense. His words, even his posture, took her back to how things had been before John and Cody and the whirlwind that followed - he might have said the same thing to her some late afternoon at the church, her sitting on the edge of Val’s desk while he opened every drawer in search of the right size nail for a repair. But with ash smeared across his face, Val looked like he had stepped out of one of Friday’s worst days. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, and grit her teeth to hold them back, feeling lost.

“It’s for work,” Friday said, finally. She paused. She wanted to touch his face, to wipe the grime away with a sponge like she had done back at the Ace while the fire was spreading - what seemed like a lifetime ago. It had helped then, being able to do something. With Val awake, she didn’t quite dare.

“What happened to you?” she asked, uneasily.

Val shook his head. “It’ll sound worse than it was. It’s okay. I was, um, foggy for the whole thing.”

Now he looked as uneasy as she felt. Friday had blown up at him when he’d left this morning, after all.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Friday said, trying not to sound upset. She was going to add, “You got hurt,” but found that she couldn’t.

Johannes’s voice cut through the conversation before Val had a chance to reply.

“Pack it in,” he hollered to the crowd that had gathered. “The show’s cancelled. We leave in an hour.”

“We already started setting up,” Ezra snapped. “We can’t strike in just an hour. If you had told us - ”

“If I’d known earlier, I would’ve told you,” Johannes snapped back at him. “We have to move. Soon. Now.”

Ezra argued, but Friday didn’t catch his reply in the clamor from the rest of the circus. Her attention fell back on Val. She felt so angry, and so stupid. She’d let Johannes bully Val into going off alone with him, when she’d known Johannes wasn’t someone to be trusted. Now something had happened that was so awful Val didn’t even want to tell her. He looked nervously past her, and Friday wasn’t convinced it was just her outfit that had him acting so cagey.

“If I tell you, you won’t be happy,” Val said slowly.

“I’m already not happy,” Friday said, then clenched her teeth, trying to reign herself in.

“Okay, enough chit-chat,” Johannes said, suddenly in the middle of their conversation. “Ketsele, you’re with me for first aid and an emergency haircut. Friday…” He waved a hand dismissively. “Go do what Ezra tells you. Some of us were burned at the stake today.”

Johannes had begun to steer Val away, though Val shrugged out from under his arm. Friday saw red. She reached out and yanked a handful of tassels on the back of Johannes’s jacket as hard as she could, throwing him off balance and forcing him to turn back.

“What?” he yelled.

“I don’t know what happened,” she threw back. “But I know it was your fault, and I’d like to see a little remorse.”

Johannes raised his eyebrows.

“You two are very similar,” he said to Val, straightening his lapels.

“Friday - ” Val began.

“No!” Friday yelled. “I will not let it slide, and I will not accept that it ‘wasn’t that bad.’ Even if you don’t tell me. I know it was bad.” It was so bad you’re shutting me out, she thought. “Val, please. He’s not good.”

“I didn’t burn him at the stake,” Johannes argued. “What the hell did I do to you?”

Nothing, yet. Friday ignored him, looking at Val instead. He left Johannes’s side, coming to stand closer to her. She was overpowered by the smell of the ocean, sweat, and ash.

“I know how it sounds,” he said quietly. “But Johannes saved my life. I trust him.”

“I know you trust him,” Friday said, frustrated. Her eyes stung, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the smoke on Val’s clothes, or if she was about to cry. “I’m trying to tell you...he’s a con artist, okay? I know he’s grifting. I just...can’t see the big picture yet.”

Val shook his head. “Look, I have to…”

Friday grabbed the end of his sleeve.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I got singed,” Val said, with surprising humor. “Really nothing new.”

Friday nodded, and bit her lip. She wanted to hug him, but Val was already pulling away.

He smiled at her, then turned to Johannes, following the ringmaster’s lead across the camp. Johannes tried to put his arm around Val again, but Val ducked away. Friday watched him push Johannes’s head down like some rowdy kid, then fold his hands behind his back as if he hadn’t.

“You better watch it,” Johannes said, laughing. “I’m about to cut your hair.”

Friday slowly breathed out. The crowd had scattered at the announcement that everything had to be packed in an hour. The only still bodies were three she knew: Ezra, John, and the mechanic, Enis. Ezra and Enis were talking, clearly working through a problem. John was staring right at Friday.

She thought he must be staring at something behind her until he caught her eye and looked away.

“I’m gonna go change,” Friday muttered to no one.

12.12 || 12.14

[nitewrighter]

Hiya Mun! |o/ its me birthday today! And I was hoping for some short Reidan drabble about anything if thats alright and possible? (Sorry for the ask 😅)

Ahhhh happy birthday!!! I was working on some Tommy Andromeda Reidan for that batch of prompts so yay!!!

---

50. “You’re the only one”

Band Mission! Band Mission! Band Mission!

-----

Backstage was always too warm, the curtain trapping in heat and roadies and venue staffers looking on suspiciously. There wasn’t really a dressing room so much as an offstage area with one might-be-pre-Crisis makeup mirror whose lightbulbs radiated heat as everyone crowded around it.

“Glitter me,” said Rajeev, flicking his finger up and down the fringe on his leather jacket. His head was tilted to accommodate his eyepatch.

“No!” Samir’s voice was muffled underneath his hard-light helmet as angry emoji eyes blipped up on his visor, “You’re going to be shedding that shit in our room for weeks!”

“Marti, tell him to glitter me,” said Rajeev.

“I told you guys, this is all Aedan’s vision, which means Aedan is in charge of our glitter budget,” said Marti. She was dressed in lavender-toned iridescent plastic overalls over a black bodysuit, her hair up in twin buns with a thin braid snaking over her shoulder. She had on silvery-purple lipstic and a temporary tattoo of three thick black rectangular lines over her right eye. She glanced over at Aedan, pacing back and forth in front of the mic, “Aedan? Does Rajeev need more glitter?”

Aedan was muttering to himself, chewing his thumbnail as he paced in front of the curtain. He wondered how quickly he was sweating off his makeup.

“Aedan,” Marti said again.

“What?” Aedan glanced up.

“You’re the expert, Tommy Andromeda,” said Marti with an eye roll.

“Right--okay--what was the question?” said Aedan.

Marti sighed. “Glitter,” she said flatly, “Should Rajeev get more glitter?”

“Oh--no, but you could use some more,” said Aedan, smoothing his hair. He had bleached it at the tips, creating a fiery ombre with his natural red hair. It nearly matched the gold sash at his hips and the copper spirals on his glittery blue one-sleeved unitard. It had cutouts on his opposite hip and with one slash at the thigh, showing off temporary tattoos of eyes and stars.

Marti shot the twins a dirty look before heading over to the makeup table and brushing glitter on her cheekbones.

“Mic check,” Aedan jerked to awareness at the sound of Rei’s voice coming over the speakers, “One, two three.” There was a tap on the microphone before Rei slipped back through the curtain to the stage. She was dressed in ripped jeans, a trucker hat, and flannel over a Velvet Underground shirt borrowed from Aedan. With her messy ponytail and aviator sunglasses, she looked every bit the part of a roadie and she flashed Aedan a smile, “5 minutes to showtime, Rocketeers,” she said, looking at her clipboard. She gave a thumbs-up to Marti and firmly readjusted the brim of her hat as a signal to Marti that she had established visual contact with Jaime. Marti gave her a single nod and Rei grinned and moved to walk off. She hesitated next to Aedan, those deep gray eyes flicking up and down at his outfit.

“...this probably all seems very silly, doesn’t it?” said Aedan glancing down at his outfit.

“I like it,” said Rei, “It’s very... you.”

Aedan snorted. “Well, if we ever get a chance to head onstage again, we could use a bassist, and the role of Celestial Priestess Oneira is still--”

“Hey. Personal Space Invader,” Marti called, catching them in the makeup mirror, “The Roadie still has a job to do.”

Rei gave him a smile and flicked a lock out of his sleeked-back hair so it hung in his forehead like a superhero spit curl, “Break a leg out there, Andromeda,” she said with a grin before slipping off.

“’Celestial Priestess Oneira?’”Marti repeated incredulously.

“If you read ‘The Andromeda Saga Cliffnotes’ document I sent you, you’d know that Oneira is a vital foil to Tommy Andromeda and his---”

“Oh my god only you would have an eight page document on lore for a band that isn’t real,” said Marti.

“No one appreciates concept albums anymore,” muttered Aedan, his shoulders slumping.

“We’re literally only doing covers,” said Samir.

“Again, I would like to stress that we just have to be competent enough to buy Rei a few minutes,” said Marti.

“That’s right, Rocketeers!” said Rajeev, strumming a note on his guitar, “Get your heads in the game! Or my name isn’t Dorado Crux!”

“Your name isn’t Dorado Crux,” said Samir flatly, “And also you’re wearing your eyepatch over your real eye.”

“...Prosthetic looks cooler,” said Rajeev with a shrug.

“Guys! Focus!” said Marti, hurrying over to her soundboard as Samir looped his keytar awkwardly over his oversized helmet. Aedan took his place at the blue masking tape-marked x at the part in the curtain.

“Okay. Tommy Andromeda. Here to save the multiverse with the power of rock and roll,” he muttered under his breath, hopping in place and rolling his shoulders.

“Or... here to create enough of a distraction so Rei and Jaime get the mission done?” said Marti.

“...sure,” said Aedan, “That too.”

The rest of the team, well, band, took their positions. Marti at her soundboard, Samir with his keytar, Rajeev on guitar, and Aedan on vocals. Rei on extraction. Jaime on lookout. Aedan took a few calming breaths.

“Hello Santa Fe, how’s everyone doing this evening?” he listened to the MC through the curtain. A lackluster swell of claps rose up from the audience.

Stay calm, Aedan, It’s just a jam session, just think of it as a jam session, he thought to himself.

“For your opening act we have some funky unknowns who claim they’re from outer space--We’ll have them send our regards to the apes at the lunar colony. Santa Fe, I give you, the Tommy Rocketers!”

The jumpsuit already felt like it was riding up by the time the curtain parted. The lights were too bright for Aedan to see the audience. He squinted, hoped his eyeshadow wasn’t melting under the lights

“Actually we’re Tommy and the Rocketeers--I’m Tommy--They’re... they’re the Rocketeers,” Aedan’s own voice seemed swallowed by mic feedback for a second as he readjusted the mic to his height.

“Like Bennie and the Jets?!” someone yelled from the crowd.

Aedan drew in a calming breath through his nostrils. If that was Jaime I’m going to kill him, he thought.

“We don’t get them back in the Andromeda system, are they good?” he asked, tilting his head with ingenue-wide eyes as he got into character. A snicker rippled through the crowd and Aedan smiled as Marti laid down a beat on her soundboard and brought in a warbling theremin note as Samir started accompanying her beat with organ from his keytar and Rajeev soon strumming alongside his brother. Aedan rolled his neck and stretched out his arms with that dancer posture before taking hold of the microphone, drawing in breath, and singing. He had agonized over the setlist, of course, and then there was the matter of what songs they could get down with only a little over two and a half weeks of practice. They warmed up the crowd with “Final Day,” definitely more New Wave than glam, but it fit their minimalist instrumentation and their spacey aesthetic with its semi-innocent, semi-prophetic lyrics seemed to placate the crowd into accepting them as semi-competent, with the “Woah-oh-oh” allowing them to transition into the more high energy “Senses Working Overtime,” a song just weird and well-known enough to let Tommy Andromeda feel more settled in.

 And, with a few hip shakes, suddenly he was coming to Aedan--every extra few seconds Aedan had taken to emote at himself in that character in the bathroom, every performance he had alone in his lab, every vivid fantasy he had had listening to music on long orca rides and quiet nights back at Talon was suddenly surging out of his heart and throat. He was in every swing of Aedan’s hips. Every stomp of his platform red and gold boots. He was the exiled magical space messiah who was a reincarnation of the prince of a fallen space kingdom who had to fight against the ancient order of his alien father’s--Okay, Marti was probably right about the unnecessarily convoluted backstory, but what mattered was that he was Tommy Andromeda.

---

Rei had her finger to her ear as she ascended the stairs to the VIP lounge. “Security cams are still down, right?” she said.

“Yup,” Jaime spoke over her earpiece, “You’ve got three loud songs in the set.”

“I only need one,” said Rei, reaching the door 

 Admittedly when Marti said they would be going undercover as the band and it turned out Aedan was the best singer out of all of them, no one expected him to suddenly heft up a cardboard box of costumes and notebooks of sketches, but ‘outlandish’ fit the role for this mission. It was an odd little side project Aedan had talked to Rei about it before, but it seemed so intimate to him she couldn’t imagine him putting it on the line for a mission. As Rei reached the door to the lounge, she could hear the band’s music muffled up through the stairs. She pushed the door open as “Because the Night” came on, Samir’s keytar was muffled in the walls as Rei scanned across the room. There was an interior window looking down at the stage and Rei tried not to get too distracted by Aedan’s brightly-colored figure swaying and dancing below before she glanced at the people in the room. There were a handful of Deadlock members laying about the room in various states of drunkenness and boredom. One of them glanced up at her, a burly biker with his boots propped up on a scuffed up coffee table. 

“Oh! Hey!” Rei rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, “Don’t mind me, I’m just looking for another extension chord.”

“...yeah we don’t have any of those,” said an Omnic picking dirt from his joints with a knife and barely glancing at her.

“Ah okay,” said Rei, “You know, while I’m up here, you wouldn’t happen to have a Null Sector Data Lamprey that you’re currently extorting interpol with, then?”

 Both Deadlock members glanced up sharply at her and Rei smiled. “I can go look downstairs---” she said, turning around before she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. 

“Oh, mosh pit?” said Rei.

“What--?” said the deadlock member gripping her shoulder before she took hold of the biker’s forearm and flipped him over her, slamming him into the floor before pivoting and catching another Deadlock member in the stomach with a kick.

----

The Venue was your typical grubby-but-big bar show that had a handful of would-be music journalists trying to look casual in the audience. Jaime sipped at his ginger ale with resignation at the bar as the set started. All things considered, Aedan and the team weren’t that bad. Marti was probably carrying them, instrument-wise, but Aedan had decent pipes and seemed to be so caught up in.. whatever the hell kind of interpretive dance shit he was doing while singing that it kept the audience’s attention. Jaime kept watch on the whole venue from a corner opposite the VIP lounge overhead, and he glanced up to see the venetian blinds of the VIP lounge drawn, and rustling. He kept an eye on the window, watching the blinds sway before they stilled. He sipped his ginger ale again and suddenly the blinds were being drawn back to the side. Rei gave him a thumbs up from behind the glass and he gave a thumbs-up to her before she moved out of the window. He turned his attention back to the stage. Even if Marti, Aedan, and Rajeev were all coated in enough makeup to screw up facial recognition software, Samir was probably the smartest out of all of them by covering his face up altogether with that cute emoji-eyed helmet. Part Daft Punk, part ‘Danger Will Robinson!’ Jaime smiled a little. Samir was all business even as his twin was feverishly hopping around the stage, restrained only by his guitar’s chord.

“What did I miss?” said Rei, breathlessly stepping up next to him. She had ditched her flannel and trucker hat and shaken out her hair so that the Ziegler volume could pass for 70′s shagginess. She was still wearing Aedan’s ratty Velvet Underground shirt. 

“Rei--mission,” said Jaime.

“Oh, right,” said Rei, handing him the data lamprey from under her shirt, which he unceremoniously stuffed into the interior pocket of his jacket. Jaime drew a lighter from another pocket and lifted it over his head, making eye contact with Marti on the stage. She gave him a single nod. “So what did I miss?” Rei said again, now rolling up and tying off Aedan’s shirt into a sleeveless crop top.

“...Pelvic thrusts?” said Jaime, glancing back at the stage as Aedan was practically using his mic stand to pole dance to “Black Tongue.”

“Dammit,” Rei muttered under her breath.

Jaime snorted. “Don’t worry, he’s still in full bird-of-paradise mode.”

“Yeah,” said Rei, leaning her elbow on the bar and leaning her hand on her cheek, “Isn’t he amazing?”

Aedan was contorting himself on stage as he sung, letting his body shift and stretch with the sound.

“He’s... certainly... leggy?” said Jaime. He nudged Rei’s shoulder. “You should get closer to the stage.”

“I shouldn’t,” said Rei, “ I don’t want to distract him.”

“Oh come on, when are we going to get another band mission?” said Jaime.

“Well, you’ve been keeping lookout, it’ll look more natural if you go see Samir,” said Rei.

Jaime made eye contact with Samir and the emoji display on Samir’s helmet flashed up hyphen-closed eyes with a sweat drop.

“...I think he’s embarrassed enough without me rubbing his nose in it,” said Jaime with a snicker. He motioned with his head. “Come on. You’re Tommy Andromeda’s number one fan, right?”

Rei blushed and elbowed him. “I’ll be right back,” she said, hurrying into the concert crowd.

“Don’t throw your bra at him!” Jaime called after her.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Rei yelled back, jumping so he could see her over the crowd.

---

Aedan wasn’t really sure how he had managed to get himself into a glute bridge pose while covering “Love is the Drug” but he stretched an arm up to the overhead lights as he vocalized. He was still lying on his back on the stage when they transitioned into the next song. The finale, “Baby It’s You,” by Promises. Aedan assumed all the foppish melancholy of Tommy Andromeda as he sang, letting his arm limply fall against the stage, his hand hanging over its edge. 

“You're here with me now but you're saying You don't want me any more You're holding me now but you're saying You can't see me no no more You whisper good-bye then cling tighter to me I can't take no moooooore---” Lower to the floor of the stage, he could make out more faces in the crowd, including one figure with dark hair in a Velvet Underground shirt. His eyes flicked open with sharp awareness as he brought himself upright on the floor. “Woo--oo---oooahhhh!” He clutched his spare fist to his chest before flinging his arm out to Rei in an imploring motion as he sprang to his feet and Rajeev slammed down on the C chord on his guitar, “Baaaaby it’s yooooou!”

Rei apparently didn’t anticipate him being able to pick her out of the crowd so quickly and her hand went over her mouth and she went beet red and a nervious laugh fell out of her as he started strutting around the stage, occasionally throwing her a wink or a hip gyration. A side-eye emoji flashed up on Samir’s helmet display as he looked at her and then looked to Marti, but Marti just smiled and kept working at her soundboard. They finished the mission after all, they might as well finish the set. She got a few glances from the crowd, but none of them seemed to recognize her as the roadie with her hair down and jacket off.

Aedan threw his head back as he dropped to his knees again with the chorus, glitter-saturated sweat gathering in the dip of his collarbone as he raised one arm up to an unseen night sky before gesturing back out at the audience--well, Rei, to be honest--as he hit that final high note.

“Baaaby it’s yoooooou!”

[endthisfool]

Dirge Eater CH 3

Summary: Whirl has a nice friendly chat with his pals. 

Chapter 3: Realization Rejection

In a universe bound by artificial whims to another, a mech freezes in a doorway, blinking rapidly. While living on this ship they had seen their fair share of wild and unbelievable things. Parallel universes, zombie mechs, etc. So perhaps this could actually be considered one of the more mundane things, though nevertheless unexpected. It sears iridescent tendrils from its center, clawing at shelves, and humming with energy. Below a strange contraption, blaster-esq in its build, lays forlornly on the floor, abandoned by its user. ‘There’s a portal in this storage closet.’ Lip-plates pressed in a thin line the mech shuts the door, turns on their heel, and walks away. Someone else ought to take care of that.

 --- At the other side of that universal link, Rafael paces the meager portion of his school’s sidewalk that wasn’t taped off for repairs. His mind abuzz with thoughts of the newcomer back at the autobot base. It wasn’t everyday that you got to meet a giant alien robot, and while he already knew several, this was still a nerve wracking experience. The new mech was different, not only in his frame, but in some other way. It was like the thought wasn’t entirely tangible, he just couldn’t grasp it yet. What could possibly make this mech feel so much more foreign than any of the other cybertronians? Lost in that puzzle as he is, he almost misses it.

A familiar flash of blue. Raf double-takes. It's a little girl, dressed in overalls, one of the straps hangs loosely off her shoulder, folding the denim’s front over itself sloppily. A black eyepatch stretches over one eye, and blue hair drawn up in high pigtails curls down from the sides of her head. It seemed Miko wasn’t the only person around here with an interesting sense of fashion. Oddly enough, she’s behind the barriers that the police had used to block off the mech’s impact crater, her hands on her hips, looking none too concerned by the drop in front of her. She definitely shouldn’t be in there. With no adults in sight Raf takes it upon himself to watch out for the girl. “Hey, I don’t think you should be on that side of the barriers.” He tells her, not unkindly. It wasn’t his place to question what a young looking kid was doing at a school like this, but really, where were her parents? “You could get hurt.” 

In response the little girl-she couldn’t have been any older than ten-leans further over the hole tapping her chin as if deep in thought. “I’m investigating.” She says loudly, her voice accented with something peculiar. Almost synthesized. The sound reminded him of something, though he couldn’t quite discern what it was. She scuffs a red shoe against the ground, sending a rocking tumbling down into the crater. Then she bends back at a painful looking angle, craning her neck to peer upward into the sky, one hand positioned over her yellow eye to shield it from the sun. Squinting she works her jaw, pressing her tongue into a gap between her teeth. The clouds stare back, sharing nothing. “Ok, I’m done.” “That was quick.” Raf comments, casting a glance toward the school building where Miko was now waving him down from the doors. Jack exits as well, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder, and gesturing with his head to the road. There Arcee rolls to a stop, her holographic rider still as ever. Raf gives them each a smile, that wavers when he remembers his present company. He turns to the girl. “But really it’s not safe over there...” 

Rafael blinks, a dipping sensation turning his stomach. He stumbles forward, slipping under the barriers to reach the crater where the little girl must have fallen, scraped and bruised at the bottom. At the edge he prepares to climb down, a call for help stifled at the back of his throat. Then he stops. Confusion bats at his stuttering heart mockingly. “What’re we lookin’ at?” Miko pushes past the barriers, joining her friend in crouching over the steep drop of the empty crater. “Ooh rocks.” She nudges Raf with her elbow, careful to not push him toward the hole. “Very cool, but I think you should stick to computers.” Raf spays his palms out helplessly presenting the lack of anything in the crater below. Could she really have run off that fast? “Come on guys, Bulkhead isn’t going to wait for you two forever.” Beyond them Jack situates his helmet over his black hair, the green vehicle rumbling its engine from where it had pulled up moments before. “I thought you’d be more excited to see that helicopter bot than the hole he came from.” “Oh yeah!” Miko bounces up, pulling Raf up and away with her. Raf lets her drag him to Bulkhead’s waiting doors, his mind flitting between one strange encounter with blue to the next. 

---

   The appearance of the wild rotormech seemed to be a catalyst for a surplus of work for the autobot medic. That was not to say he wasn’t usually busy, however his work didn’t normally include investigating rowdy cyclopses claiming to be autobots. Especially rowdy cyclopses that leaked pink energon, and were intent on staring holes into his armor from the medberth. Ratchet rolls his shoulder pauldrons uncomfortably, as if he could dislodge the other’s gaze through the movement alone. He doesn’t turn from the computer terminal to address the mech, too focused on the strange energy reading creating a flux over the system’s scanners. Those readings had been popping up haphazardly the past couple days, but he couldn’t pinpoint a source at all. Nor could he parse them out, though they were awfully familiar. “You’re free to go, Optimus is likely waiting for you.” There was too much to do, and he still hadn’t been able to find any connection between their guest and the autobots. Not to mention the aerialbots. Or really anything at all in what was left of the autobot’s database. Not a single recorded encounter with a mech that matched his description over the course of the war. It was like he just didn’t exist. “Try not to re-open those welds.” There’s a soft shifting of metal as the blue mech slips off the berth, quiet enough that the medic nearly didn’t hear it. Then Whirl brushes past him, sliding blue armor against white just a bit too long, a bit too roughly, and there’s a hushed phrase ghosting over the medic’s audial. “Thanks, Ratchet.” Distracted as he is the medibot gives a noncommittal grunt in return. An itch in the back of his processor throwing up red flags that there was something very wrong with what he just heard. Unconsciously his plating shutters tight against his frame. And to think their guest had only been awake for a few hours. 

---   Whirl was like an unexploded minefield buried under centuries of broken glass and smoldering debris. A single step made to avoid that cutting glass could very well end up setting him off, but leaving him to fester would only put many others in danger. Whether or not he could be trusted remained to be seen, though with the lack of an actual brig they would have to resort to different methods to keep him under some semblance of their control. Usually when dealing with an unknown mech like this it is protocol to use restraints or sedation. However, the thought of restraining an empurata victim made his tanks churn unpleasantly. It felt horrendously cruel. Though in retrospect Optimus doubted they had any restraints that were truly capable of holding the mech, even if they did it wasn’t likely worth the fallout. Not to mention their medic’s lack of knowledge on Whirl’s frame-type meant an attempt at sedation could very well harm the rotormech. Their current circumstances were far from ideal 

Thus, the decision had been made to watch Whirl in shifts. It was agreed on that he couldn’t be left alone, especially not while there were humans frequenting the base. (The humans couldn’t simply stay at their respective homes, not while the decepticons knew of them.) As time goes on he knows the team will have to have more in-depth discussions on handling their guest, that is after they begin gleaning more information about him. He’ll need to be kept under careful supervision until they could figure out his true allegiance. If it turns out Whirl is indeed an autobot, well, it’s safe to say Optimus was curious about the mindset of whoever recruited Whirl. As of now he couldn’t bring himself to fully believe the rotormech was a decepticon spy; perhaps he was a neutral that had converted toward the fall of Cybertron? Being driven to pick a side while their world was ravaged would explain his level of malice and disrespect. Therefore, the idea of him becoming a permanent fixture on the team was not something exactly fathomable at the moment. At the least, having him here meant they could limit the havoc he could inflict on this planet, and Optimus was glad for that. 

The mech currently clouding Optimus’s processor limps into the room, fresh mesh patches littering his unconventionally proportioned frame. He stretches languidly, the smooth moment ignorant of the pain he should be in, as well as the nearby screen that becomes impaled on one of the long protrusions from his shoulders. The monitor sends out a shower of sparks and glass, that is exacerbated by Whirl’s attempts in dislodging himself. Soon the monitor is torn from its mount and flung onto the floor with a loud crunch. Whirl seems to consider the broken screen for a moment before he resumes his stretching, none too discretely pushing the mess behind a staircase with his pede. Optimus exvents quietly. There was another issue that needed to be addressed soon. They couldn’t keep him cooped up here for long. Fliers can’t be confined to small spaces, and Whirl spindly as he is, isn’t a compact mech. The base was already crowded before, and their new addition appeared content to take up as much space as possible. 

Taking a nanosec to prepare himself, Optimus pings Bee to join him in the main room. The young scout had been the only one to volunteer to watch over their guest, so he’d take the first shift. Hopefully this would work as a good evaluation of Whirl’s demeanor, though that was dependent on how much Whirl was willing to interact with his supervisors. Upon entering the room Bumblebee plants himself at his leader’s side, shadowing him as they near the rotormech. The blue mech continues stretching, ignoring their presence until he’s apparently satisfied with the limberness of his joints. When it becomes clear the mech had no plans of acknowledging them, Optimus begins to speak. “Whirl, this is Bumblebee our scout, he’ll be taking you to scan an Earth alt mode once our human liaison can locate something suitable for you.” Whirl’s optic flits between the two, his gaze lingering long enough on the yellow scout to make him squirm. Tapping a claw against the bottom of his helm, he hums a long drawn out note that raises in pitch, as if pretending to consider something distasteful. 

“Mmmmm, no.” The rotormech ends his humming with a blunt negative, jeering and short. ”That’d be a big ol’ downgrade. I like my current alt, it’s saucy.” Optimus fights the urge to rub his temples, beside him Bee gives a startled laugh. “Try to reconsider, Cybertronian alt modes will draw too much attention. We cannot let you travel outside the base with your current alt.” “Don’t worry about it, short stack.” Whirl bounces on the tips of his pedes, most definitely making sure to look down at the Prime as he does so. “I’m very stealthy. The sky is blue, I’m blue, it’s practically a done deal, no one will notice me.” He could already tell this conversation wasn’t going to bend in his favor, so he decides to switch tactics to appeal his point further. He figures he can depart some dearly needed information about their situation to the mech in the process. It’s a futile task. 

“In any matter, I have been informed that you are at least somewhat knowledgeable about this planet-“ At that Whirl utters a short chirp of ‘real Earth,’ Optimus’s faceplate cuts a stern frown, though Whirl doesn’t cease in his hopping. “-considering you made references to human ‘pop-culture’ when you first encountered one of our charges. Thus, am I correct in assuming you know that humans are the dominant species on this planet?” It’s hard to tell if Whirl nods or if he’s just letting his helm follow the rest of his frame in its bouncing. For the sake of his dwindling patience Optimus takes it as confirmation. “On Earth we are guests, and the human government has afforded us their hospitality under the requirement that we adhere to the rules provided to us. That includes hiding ourselves from the general population, and seeing fit to communicate with their liaison.” There’s a soft hiss of Whirl’s pistons as he goes for a higher jump, coming dangerously close to another monitor.“Please stop that-“ He doesn’t. Optimus warily lays a firm servo on Whirl’s shoulder, and Whirl pauses to give it an affronted blink. “The human you first met is one of our charges, our allies, our friends . These charges are returning today, and it is prudent that you treat them with respect, and dignity. Intentionally harming any one of them will be met with dire consequences. Threatening behavior toward our allies will not be tolerated.” 

  Whirl doesn’t give any inclination that he understood the severity of Optimus’s orders, simply plucking the autobot’s servo off his shoulder with a puff of air. “Check before you step, got it.” The rotormech responds, a dismissive wave of a claw perfectly conveying his thoughts on the matter. To his chagrin, Optimus realizes this is probably the best response he’d be getting out of the blue mech. It was a shame really, Whirl was displaying disconcertingly low levels of care toward other lifeforms so far. He could only hope the rotormech would warm up to the planet’s natives as the other autobots did. However, unlike the his team Whirl had already known of Earth and her people, so at best all he needed was some firsthand experience with the planet. The worst outcome would be that Whirl has reached his own conclusions about the humans, via whatever transmissions he must have picked up before he got here. The thought was sobering, that a mech like this, an empurata victim who no doubt faced much strife due to his condition would condemn himself to his biases-like others stereotyped him- instead of allowing himself to see the beauty, and potential of the world around him. Prime’s saddened dismay must have shown in his EM field, or his faceplate, because Whirl teeters back, disgruntled. 

Optimus steps away, allowing the clawed mech some much needed space. “I’ll let you two get acquainted,” Optimus inclines his helm to Bumblebee, who had been a silent observer throughout the exchange. The cyclops’s own helm swivels to meet the scout’s blue optics, quickly as if having forgotten him. Bee is very an amiable youngling, Optimus trusts that will work in his favor when dealing with Whirl. Nevertheless, he can’t help but feel as if he’s leaving his scout to the rotormech’s mercy. “I have faith that you’ll find Bumblebee to be fully equipped to answer any questions you may have, Whirl. If you have need of my presence I’ll be conferring with our medic in the medbay.” The Prime leaves the room, not quite hastily, but he certainly didn’t stroll, as he was none too keen to fall into another argument with Whirl. He had an inkling that the rotormech was fairly displeased by the pity that had leaked into his EM field. It was best to remove himself from the equation for now.

--

Bulkhead had had some real choice words about the mech they found yesterday. He had outright refused to be the first one to watch Whirl, opting to volunteer to help Arcee pick up the kids instead. Personally, Bee didn’t see what the fuss was about, sure the guy was pretty odd, and had no respect for authority, but he didn’t seem bad per se. Beyond that Raf had been really disappointed the day they didn’t let the kids stick around to see Whirl when they first brought him in. Bee liked to think his charge had a knack for discerning good people from rotten apples. Or whatever that human saying was. Either way if Raf thought this mech was a good mech then so did Bee, he trusted his best friend’s judgement. Whirl was blinking at him now, appearing to have relaxed once Optimus exited the room. “‘Sup, Bugboy?” “Hi!” Being quite use to receiving insect related nicknames, the scout takes the moniker in stride. Bee was pleased by the opportunity to introduce Whirl to more of Earth. It was nice being considered the more experienced one for once. Most others underestimated him due to his age. Now with this new autobot he had the chance prove his expertise, and maybe get the feel of what being a mentor is like. He shifts his weight on his pedes, excited. “Don’t worry about the alt mode change, I know it’s weird but Earth has plenty of stuff to choose from. We’ll find you something that suits you, and then it’s just a matter of getting use to it. Who knows, you might come to like it!” “Is that so?” “Yeah! By the way my charge, Raf, is really excited to meet you. Well, officially I mean.” “Interesting. I see.” “I’ve never met an autobot that was a flier either so I get why he’s so interested,” Bee gives his doorwings an idle flutter at the thought of flying. How lucky! His freedom was limited by his wheels, while this mech could simply take to the sky when roads ended. “What division are you from? Raf thinks you were part of the aerialbots, is that right?” Whirl brings a claw close to his optic and mimes squishing Bee’s helm. The scout buzzes curiously at the action, gaining no response from the blue mech. It dawns on him that he’s obviously not paying attention, and the scout finds himself doubting the other had listened to a single word he had been saying. Discouraged, Bumblebee finds himself struggling to continue the conversation. “Uhm, flying always seemed pretty cool....” The blue mech perks up when Bee finally trails off his sentence. “So, what’s your real name?” Bee stills, baffled, managing nothing but a questioning beep, before Whirl is barreling on with clicking claws. “I gotta say, it’s pretty weird for Prime to name younglings after dead mechs.” “ Wha - I think you have me mistaken for someone else?” Bee shakes his helm, jittery confusion mixed with morbid curiosity snaking through his plating. Who could Whirl possibly be talking about? “I’m not named after anyone, especially not someone who’s been deactivated-“ His stare is so utterly blank, a complete lack of comprehension, just like before, he’s not listening and he’s not even trying to hide it. Bee shuts off his vocoder, shooting the mech a disgruntled glare. “You done?” Whirl cants his helm, giving the younger mech a once over that feels awfully like he’s being judged. For what, he isn’t sure. “ Yeah , I deactivated my translator as soon as you started beeping. Thought it’d be funny, but you really took your sweet time shutting up.” An embarrassed heat builds up beneath his plating, his doorwings stiffen high on his back, and he clenches his servos into fists. “That’s not funny!” Sure he had proven himself to be rude, but that was just mean. He didn’t expect this sort of childish taunting from Whirl. Maybe this mentor idea was going to need some reworking, especially if Whirl actually had trouble with empathy. Bee sets his servos on his hips, trying for the same disapproving look he had seen Optimus employ before. “Humans teach their offspring about what they call the golden rule: treat others the way you want to be treated. You wouldn’t like it if I acted like I couldn’t understand you, would you?” “...What?” “Turn your translator back on!”

--

It’s not long before Arcee and Bulkhead return to the base, their passengers in tow. With the entire team back on base it was declared time for a more formal introduction. They gather in the main area, and it feels a lot more crowded with the fifth cybertronian in the room. Optimus introduces the team with the same serious tone he imparted onto anything. He goes around the room, stating each of their respective designations, ranks, and official titles. When he finally turns to Ratchet, Whirl snaps to attention, the antenna on his helm twitching. He hadn’t so much as acknowledged any of the other mechs, why him? Itching uncomfortably under the sudden attention the medic resolutely refuses to meet the other’s gaze, feeling the blue mech’s optic heavy upon his plating, waiting. Optimus notices the intense stare and seems to hesitate. “...this is Ratchet, our medic.” Whirl shutters his optic. “That was a wink,” He supplies, unprompted. From his side Bee looks up at Ratchet curiosity. ::Is he flirting with you?:: ::No:: He almost doesn’t think to reply to the comm, his processor rolling to a stop. Whirl had called him by his designation earlier, before he had been introduced. The thought makes his plating crawl. A series of questions building at the front of his mind. How did he know? Who could have told Whirl his name? Why was he so intent on staring at him? Was it an intimidation tactic? Ratchet makes the mistake of making optic-contact with the rotormech. Across the room that gold optic dilates so wide it envelops the shadows of its socket. Ratchet cringes. Fowler, and the kids are introduced to Whirl without much fanfare. He doesn’t even seem to notice them until Fowler, who clearly has a bone to pick with the blue mech, starts on a tirade on the fragility of autobot and human relations. It’s a long speech that the autobots had all been on the receiving end of before, though now it was personalized to include the rotormech’s recent ‘jaunt’ around town, and why that was very bad. The agent finishes with an impassioned flourish of his hands, giving the new bot an expectant look. Whirl sorta just squints. “I bet his translator is still off.” Bee grumps, his charge patiently waiting his turn to talk to the new mech blinks in surprise. The other two children glance between the bot and his charge, for some sort of explanation. Optimus internally groans knowing the agent wouldn’t take well to being so flippantly ignored. “Whirl, you’ll need to activate your translator to understand the humans, until you download several of the planet’s common languages.” “Oh yeah, I forgot I turned that off, thought I was having a stroke.” As predicted Fowler is fairly insulted by the mech’s lack of respect. He rounds on the thirty-foot bot with clenched fists, his face red. “Pal, you and me are going to have problems if you keep up this too-cool-for-school act.” Optimus decides it was better to not point out Whirl likely didn’t know what that meant. “I’ve already had to clean up after your surprise drop in at Jasper, it’s like you have zero idea of how to be discrete. I don’t know how you’re supposed to be an autobot, all I’ve seen from you so far is someone who’s irresponsible, dangerous, disrespectful, and just downright irritating !” “You’re absolutely right!” Whirl agrees, cackling at the scowl that contorts the man’s face in response. The children share a laugh at Fowler’s expense, and Fowler fumes, settling his anger on the leader of the autobots. “ This is the kind of bots you’re bringing to Earth?” As Optimus tries to defuse situation with the infuriated agent Whirl pads over to the other humans, looking down at them curiously. They take each other's features in, Whirl doing so with considerably less enthusiasm than the humans. He was after all, very unique in his frame-type, whilst humans didn’t really have the same capacity for variation as cybertronians. “You’re kinda cool looking,” Miko concludes, fixing the mech into the frame of her phone’s lenses to take several photos of him. He makes an odd sound akin to a snort, and turns his attention to Rafael who chances a smile at the lanky mech. “ You ,” Whirl peers closer, gaining a wary whine from Bumblebee. “You were there when I splatted.” Raf furrows his brows, finding the mech’s word choice concerning. He nods nevertheless. Whatever Whirl is about to say next is interrupted by Miko curling over one of the railings, waving wildly to garner the mech’s attention. Raf frowns, unhappy about having the potential conversation stolen from him. There was only so many things he could talk about with Whirl, the autobots had made sure that the children understood he wasn’t quite stable yet. For the most part it made sense, like someone with PTSD they didn’t know what his triggers were, there was no need to cause him undue stress with invasive questions. Somethings though, they didn’t explain, like why they couldn’t ask about his claws or lack of a face. If the uncomfortable silence that followed when he had attempted to pry meant anything, it probably wasn’t good. Miko grins wide at the mech, a sly glint to her eyes. “I don’t believe you’re an autobot, buuuuut I might reconsider if you give me a helicopter ride.” “No.” Bulkhead apparently disproves of the idea, plucking his charge away from the rotormech’s vicinity while she pouts. They ‘chat’ for awhile before Whirl grows bored of the humans, and wanders out of their range. It’s night by the time the kids are taken home, leaving Ratchet nearly alone with Whirl as his next ‘babysitter’. Fowler remains, awaiting a more serious meeting with their leader.

--

Whirl perches on the walkway near the medic, stretching his frame down precariously to corner Ratchet against his terminal. “Oi, Doc-bot, dig the new frame, didn’t recognize you at first. You look great, like you’re not about to keel over of old age,” He presses closer uncaring of his invasion of the medic’s personal space, and continues speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “This planet blows , when are we going back to the Lost Light ?” “What are you ta-“ Whirl drowns him out, raising his voice in such an exaggerated manner it can only come out as if he’s trying to ward off any eavesdroppers. In the most suspicious way possible. “Boy! I sure do love Earth, and it’s many little squishable fleshies .” He fixes his unsettling optic on the only other unfortunate occupant of the room. Fowler shifts uncomfortably, passing Ratchet a confused glance before slinking back into the elevator. Apparently satisfied with that, Whirl pokes a claw against Ratchet’s chassis. “I figured you wouldn’t want to associate with me in front of these pansies,” It’s said casually enough, but like anything from Whirl’s vocoder, it doesn’t make sense. The blue mech glances about the room, as if expecting someone to barge in. “I’ll forgive you for avoiding me, after you snag some energon sticks for me from Eyebrow’s office once we’re back on the ship.” Ratchet tries to get a word in, but Whirl just keeps on talking. “I did a lil sleuthing earlier, and it looks like the cruddy invention Brainstorm definitely said I could test didn’t make the trip.” Whirl shrugs, the motion tipping his frame further into Ratchet’s bubble. “My comm is busted, you’ll have to call up the ship. Make ‘em take a detour for us, well for you , they’re probably happy I’m gone.” Mounting confusion spills over into spite. A sneer finds its home on the medic’s faceplate. He catches one of Whirl’s claws in his servo and shoves it away from himself, causing the other to have to steady himself so as to not tumble down from his perch. “I may be a doctor, but I am most definitely not obligated to put up with your unhinged rambling,” Ratchet growls out, crossing his arms over his chassis. A flutter of his spark urges him to be silent, he ignores it. “Allow me to make this very clear, Whirl: I. Am. Not. Going. Anywhere. Especially not with the likes of someone like you . Nor will I be aiding you in whatever delusional plan you’ve concocted. You’re barely welcomed here as it is, we all know empurata singles out the worst of us.” ‘That isn’t true.’ Whirl freezes. In that moment Ratchet knows instantly he just made a grave mistake. Shame grips his spark and he flounders for an appropriate apology. It’s much too late, the damage done starts a domino effect in Whirl’s frame. That golden optic narrows into a tiny fiery pinprick, and somehow that was more terrifying than the gun barrels humming beneath his cockpit. Like a switch had just been flipped his entire demeanor changes. Plating bristles in a quick flare that rolls over his protoform, leaving the rotormech looking disheveled and wild. “What.” Low and unnerving like danger lurking behind the next corner. His slitted optic burns molten, and his previously blank EM field slams into Ratchet’s aggressively. The medibot chokes on air, flinching into the terminal which offers no protection. EM fields weren’t used often anymore, and especially not like this. Empurata victims weren’t even suppose to have non-static EM fields, Whirl had to be manufacturing his negative field on purpose. Claws sear inches away from the medibot’s abdominal plating, rending deep into the terminal below. The machine shuts off with a desperate hiss of static, and the medic wonders if he’ll meet his end in the same manner. Plating flared, the enraged rotormech crowds impossibly closer. “I don’t care if you want to stay here, what matters is I don’t . If you wanna abandon the crew that’s whatever , but if you think I’m down to rust on this dumbaft planet because you want to go back to being Prime’s pet you’ve got another thing coming. And that thing is my pede straight up your aft with all those pipes you’ve got stuffed there.” Ratchet swallows a great gulp of air that stutters in his vents wildly, his bright blue optics cycling wide.The rotormech watches. “Huh. I expected you to hit me by now.” Whirl taps a short rhythm into Ratchet’s chassis, acting as if they were having a friendly chat rather than some sort of rage induced confrontation. His nonchalance sets a cold burn through the medic’s lines. ”I just threatened you, where’s the wrench? Or does Prime have you on such a short leash you’re just going to sit there, and let me tear you a new one?” Oh he certainly wants to retaliate, to shout, to push Whirl back, to get angry, to call for help, to do something , but he’s frozen. That EM field smothers him, embroiled thick with bloodlust. He’s scared. Utterly so. It brings forth a surge of old memories from his rookie years. The horror then, at being discovered by decepticons while his frantic servos were buried deep in the greying chassis of his dying patient, that fervent terror had not been for his own wellbeing. After that he couldn’t fathom fearing for himself at the same level as he did for others. But now...? An overwhelming sense of danger sees fit to drown him in its call, like the gnawing teeth of a steel trap awaiting the slightest breath to clamp down on his ridged form. It doesn’t appear to be the reaction Whirl wanted. Unexpectedly the rotormech withdraws. His plating shunts back onto his protoform in rapid clicks, and he shambles off the walkway disjointedly, as if distracted. Whirl pauses, large claws hanging limp at his sides, staring Ratchet down in the ebbing wake of his fury. Then he leaves.

--

That didn’t go down like it should have. What was it about this planet that made everybody so weak? Himself included, because for whatever reason that look on Ratchet’s faceplate had made him feel weird . He wouldn’t go so far as to call it guilty, but it was definitely...unpleasant. A far cry from the shirking glee he’d normally experience when garnering fear from others. He didn’t like it, he didn’t like it at all. 

--

   In the darkness a hulking silver mech regards his favored subordinate in front of him. Recent events found him surveying a mass grave brought about a single mech on a rampage. The mine was a loss to be pitied, but the information gained here was enthralling. “So, Starscream wasn’t lying about the rogue autobot?” Red optics glitter with twisted delight. Upon a screen serving as a sleek mech’s face, a shaky cell phone video focuses on a mass of blue metal rising up from the ground, before taking to the sky. Sharp denta bare a serrated grin at the sight. “And a flier no less, how interesting .”

[crystalkleure]

Which Beyblade Burst bey avatar do you think is the coolest?

Ohh man, my heart says Wyvern just because that’s my favourite and it looks so sleek tbh, but it’s actually a tough draw between Wild Wyvern, Lost Longinus, Ark Bahamut, and Hell Salamander, bahaha. I’d probably have a different answer out of those four depending on which day you ask me lmao

I love so many of the bey spirits that it’s ridiculously hard to pick an absolute favourite tbh xdcfvcfdcfhb almost all of them have like, SOMETHING Weird and Unique about them that’s A+++

Like:

Wild Wyvern has a flame pattern on its wing membrane, and the cone-shaped thing in the middle of it’s head that’s spraying fire out looks almost mechanical instead of organic somehow? idk what that shape is reminding me of specifically, maybe some kind of engine or exhaust vent

Lost Longinus has a flaming blue mohawk that matches Lui’s hair and that was like the best thing ever, also there are those glowing blue stripes/indentations on its legs and between the scales of its neck/chest that may or may not indicate that the insides of this dragon are glowing bright blue like it’s full of that fire, and just. Name origin. “Longinus” is the name of the guy who stabbed Jesus with a spear. Hence Lost Longinus’s tail spear. Lost Longinus is like, a dragon-ified biblical weapon. Does this imply that Shuu is Beyblade Jesus??

Ark Bahamut’s wings – aside from the membranes being weird iridescent scaly things that may be entirely illusory and made of light rather than actual flesh, which is Fucking Cool by itself – sort of…twist open in a grotesque way? Like, the wing fingers are twirled together like twizzlers before they open up, and they look briefly almost like DNA helixes while they’re peeling open, before the shiny membrane things materialize. You can see the flesh pulling apart like putty. I was going frame-by-frame through the animation for Art Reasons when I noticed it and I was like yooooooo

Hell Salamander just looks really cool. It’s made of hot pink fire/lava and its black scales/armor/whatever look almost like leather biker gear or something [not to mention, they match Suoh’s coat, which also seems to be leather sxdcfdcf], and the white scales/armor/whatever look like they’re made out of bone [its got claws and horns that are the same colour, made of the same stuff]. So, like…Ghost Rider Dragon. Also I appreciate how Salamander came to exist in the anime, and how it promptly burned a scribble into Suoh’s face as thanks for being created hgfdssdffghgf She’s So Dramatic

Screencaps to show what I’m talking about bc I’m bad at words:

Wyvern’s fire tattoos [last section of wing, near the edge]:

Bahamut’s wings:

And many Honorable Mentions under the cut because All Bey Spirits Are Cool:

Valkyrie has six eyes for no reason at all except to look cool, and is also two bey spirits in one bey because horse dcfvcfvhgb [gee Valt, how come your mom lets you have TWO bitbeasts??]

Storm Spriggan has Wolverine claws on the gauntlets on its arms, also for no reason at all except to look cool bc Spriggan already has Actual Claws too dfgcdfggh

Legend Spriggan looks Especially Cool when it does the thing where the black spiky parts of its wings are interlocked together, and then they open up

Spriggan Requiem has an AXE

Ragnaruk looks a little like Baphomet

Deathscyther has BATS. It summons a swarm of BATS when it comes out. Also just, everything else is cool too lmao it’s the grim reaper except dressed for a blacklight rave party

Kaiser Kerbeus has SCALES like a DRAGON and also wears an eyepatch. A Good Boy all around.

Hazard Kerbeus is uhhhhhhh some kind of radioactive mutated creature and he is also a Good Boy sxdcfvdfh

Multiple parts of Zeus’s body are made of what look like plasma balls. Y'know, those desktop toys that put on a cool light show and react to your fingertips when you touch em.

Unicorn would not look out of place in Robot Unicorn Attack

Yggdrasil has fucking plasma cannons

Quetzalcoatl has what appear to be stitches on the sides of its mouth [again, I was going through the animation frame-by-frame for Art Reasons lmao] and KNIVES ON THE TIPS OF ITS WINGS. Also it’s got a hood like a cobra but its body is flat like a Chrysopelea flying snake [they flatten their bodies out to catch air and “glide” around up in the trees] and if that was an intentional design choice then it’s a Really Nice Touch bc Quetzalcoatl is Quite Literally A Flying Snake lmao

Jormungand has TWO HEADS and NO EYES and that is amazing

Kreis Satan is SATAN, TRAPPED IN A PLASTIC TOP. He has claws on his wings, and carries a bright blue-and-yellow plastic fork. Lucifer is on vacation from Hell and decided this was more interesting than screwing around in Los Angeles or playing the fiddle in Georgia and he was right and I respect him.

Drain Fafnir has TWELVE EYES. TWELVE OF THEM. Three sets on its face, three sets on its chest. Faf, donate some of those eyes to Jormungand. ALSO I need to say I really love Fafnir even if it’s not quite one of my favourite designs because Requiem Nightmare Faf tried to fucking vore Shuu once and that was the funniest goddamn thing ever asxdcfcxdf

Geist Fafnir has a bright purple mouth. Love it.

Deep Chaos is made out of gnarled, twisted flesh and is evidently hollow inside, judging by its weird tentacle hands. Clio and his pet eldritch abomination needed VASTLY more screentime tbh.

Alter Chronos exists precisely at the crossroads of steampunk and technopunk and if that’s not one of the Best Aesthetics Ever then idk what is

Beat Kukulcan is made of plasma compressed into the vague shape of a bird, and then dressed up for the circus. All hail Clown King Kurz and his majestic bitbeast that will summon an instant blue-lighting thunderstorm if you piss him off. Easily one of the best tbh – if Wild Wyvern, Lost Longinus, Ark Bahamut, and Hell Salamander are my Top 4, then Beat Kukulcan is in the Top 5.

Twin Nemesis has a hammer that appears to be made out of raw flesh and teeth.

Z Achilles’ looks like one of those action figures made out of cheap bright plastic and his helmet looks like a pompadour shaped like an upside-down A. Somebody make me a Z Achilles action figure and take my fucking money.

Emperor Forneus is a SHARK MADE OUT OF KNIVES. KNIFESHARK. HOLY FUCK.

Bloody Longinus just looks Good, idk. Took a page from Salamander’s book and seems to be wearing BONE ARMOR, also trying to compete with Drain Fafnir for Number Of Eyeballs On Body. Got two sets of eyes on face. Got a set of eyes on each wing, set in weird bird-skull-looking things. Got a set of eyes on each arm, set in DRAGON-SKULL-SHAPED ARMOR PLATES. Now Longinus, too, has TWELVE EYBALLS. TWELVE OF THEM.

Leopard is a dragoncat made out of knives and teeth and it will shoot ball lightning at you

Revive Phoenix is a Giant Fucking Fireball compressed into the vague shape of a bird, and that Extra Intense Bright Light in the middle of its body is Concerning because it makes it look like rP is building up to Literally Fucking Explode At Any Moment. Also the Bird-Shaped Fireball turns an evil pretty purple colour sometimes and that’s great.

Dead Hades is just COOL. YOOOOOO it’s some kind of insectoid creature judging by the six segmented bug legs, and that billowy brown cloak thing it’s wearing might actually be a couple of sets of tattered leathery wings. This fantastically horrifying creature was taken from us too soon, rip.

Orb Egis is a floating scorpion-tailed hydra with necks made out of rainbow holo plasma ig. It’s…*single tear* so beautiful………

Dead Phoenix makes me SO MAD because it SHOULD NOT EXIST but it looks SO FUCKING BADASS. It’s everything rP was except 500% more Goth and Metal now. hhhhhhhh

[writings-of-a-narwhal]

hi hi! what does Jayi look like?

she's not horribly tall, about 5' 5", and she's not skinny. she's not a delicate little flower, no matter what her facial features say. she's a creature of beauty, but beware, outward appearances don't reflect what's inside. she's also a creature of strength, muscled and scarred and cold.

her hair is dark, it seems to be black but it's actually dark blue. always braided back during battle, but when she's not she let's it flow, where it hangs to the bottom of her shoulder blades. her eye is blue like a sapphire, and a fire burns within it, a cold one, a fire of ice and snow. where her left eye should be is covered by an eyepatch, simple and black.

her skin almost seems to shimmer at times, especially at night. it's like moonlight on the snow, bright and pale. and her teeth- they're white and sharp, too sharp for a human to have.

scars litter her skin, some dark and harsh, others pale and almost nonexistent. her hands are marked with blood, but they seem so delicate, that is, before you look close and see how calloused and scarred they are, before you see the dried blood that lies within the creases of her palms.

a particularly harsh set of scars marked her right arm. from her elbow down to the back of her hand is a set of four scars. they curve with her muscles and tell of something horrid.

when she's at home or not at war, she wears soft colors, pastels, things that don't match her reputation. so soft, she seems, so gentle and warm. and she is, in a way.

at ear, her armor is dark, the metal a dark gray/silver and everything else in iridescent blacks and blues. it helps her blend into the night, where she is most comfortable.

and her swords, they shine like the stars even when covered in blood.

[gruntadminloch-moved]

Loch's Instagranbul account is usually full of various photos of Pokémon and landscapes and people and Skull Grunts and all manner of things--whatever he can get his camera in front of, he'll often photograph it and post it online. Now and then he posts videos, all just as varied. He's rarely in any of these, himself, and if he is it's more likely someone else taking the picture or video and posting it for him than his taking a selfie.

Tonight, at some late hour, a video not unlike this one goes up. Late at night in an empty parking lot, lit only by the street lights, the video starts, Loch backing away from the camera, revealing himself in a rather colorful and iridescent little suit over his usual Skull tanktop. Though he looks somewhat embarassed, he looks over to the car just barely in frame, music playing from inside.

Out comes a larger man in a similar outfit--he's probably recognizable as most despite it(and despite the croptop he's wearing under the jacket) as Guzma--and a handful may recognize him as a specific one, though where there was an eyepatch in the past there's now a scar, his eye back where it had been.

Loch covers his face, and Guzma begins to dance around a little bit, offering hands to him and singing along to the Elton Jon song with practiced ease and memorization. Loch peeks, then laughs, starts saying something along the lines of "I can't--" to which Guzma, bouncing a little closer to hold him, simply responds, "you wanted to!"

"I do want to but--but--!"

"C'moon~" he's rocked along with Guzma, who resumes singing, rubbing cheeks with him. Loch has a rather silly grin on his face, pulling his hands away, then putting them in Guzma's, who spins him to properly start dancing with him.

It's in no way choreographed, and Loch is stiff and uncertain about his movements at first, mostly allowing himself to be pulled and pushed, swaying and bouncing along more and more as the song went on, until he was dancing properly, albeit, somewhat wildly, as if he was dancing the words along. They were by no means in sync, but they were smiling and laughing and singing while they danced, Guzma occasionally scooping Loch up and spinning him, dipping him, or otherwise pulling him along, though Loch showed no sign of minding at all, even taking some initiative himself and grabbing his hands and pulling him into certain movements of arms and feet and hips, steps in circles.

The video ends before the song and dance does, but they clearly had a good time throughout, grinning and dancing without any concern for a soul watching. Just there to enjoy the song and dance and each others' company.

The description is simply "Like no one's watching and it's not going online when you're done 🎶💕🕺🏾🕺🏾💕🎶"