#and is this a masked fools thing??? are the masked fools about this shit?? like. is it all just to put on a show?

[xxcrumbxx]

Hey so this is a miny chereiter analises of how i see fool and sol.

Man oh man I love this shit too. ,tbh Fool and Sol are who I look most forword to "talkin to " masuta is amazing and lovely ,I wanna know more about that sweet little bag of represd past trama named Sunspot,

Therorising about Fool

but the talks with fool and knowing more about him is so mesmerizing. like duse he have 2 outhers and he uses his staff to alow them "out" becuse his body was not desighd to switch outwordly ?( and duse he resent that fact and duse he feel further outcasted and potenchally lookd down on becuse he is a non fazbare made animatronic and in lesse nice words a bootleg? Like he shows pride in his stature and indurance but he could be masking those feelings useing pride as a sheld )

Character study / what im seeing in Fool

Fool wishes to lean more in to his performance becuse its what he was made for and its a perfictly well made chericacher of his self, put up to make all ideas of his inharent displacement in the group and the world less known, becuse to onlookers he is just as his name sake a fool,he canot posabuly be smart enughf or sorrowfull and desperit longing for something outher then the meta phisical cage he is forced to dwell with in. Running the same programs and prosseses to a maddaning dagree. Wishing to excpireance what he was made for agin but also needing to be more then the experiences he's had. He has to cover up all of it ,in fear that if he duse not purform even with out a proper audeance he will be sent back to the subliminal time warping hellscape that is storige. storage he him self has no idea how long he will be there or if he is lost to the sans of time, Forgotton by the humans that made him. So instead he has to drip every last drop out of the cup of attintion he's finnaly resiving from the potential last chance of captovating an adiance and heving a new excperiance a life line for his scentse of self and worth as a performor becuse he is still stuck.traped and lonely hes still an a sort of storage a colection not to be used but looked at and injoyed ,its like bing in a mental prison like being in storage but with a different name but what makes this kind worse and most hart braking is he. Can see and contantly here the world out side of his invisabule box its always there taugnting him and he duse not have to be alone there are outhers in this wide opan cage that are just as traped, gratefull to not be lost to time but still traped,he wants oh so badly to be wanted for his company to be seeked out but becuse of his own self image and trubles he puts up a wall a barrior anouther thing they wave to cross and go out of there way to acheve to show they acctuly whant to be around him, and wish to injoy his company and to simply just hang out and none but masuta have even tryed. fool oh boy well he alredy had his well timed heart bleed like he did it in that moment to geet eyes of masuta an y/n but he Ty miment also perfictly highy lighted what hes been heeding to get off his chest.he is the embody ment of fools like the fools Journey ( from his conseption and life at the fair to his inprisonment as a thing and now his fleeting fredom where the luxures of retierment are surrounded by the reminders that he is a thing and all just like all that is collected with him he may never be givin the opertunity to shine agin and the lingering threat of a smaller box is always near hes in a cage a pretty one he can play in and decoret but he is not truly free. He has been shown something new and wonderusly blinding to his prosesers and so he is chasing this new feeling of whimsy heven to his own potential detrament but atlest its interesting.) as well as historical ones ,knowing to mutch but being overlooked becuse he is protraid as to cought up in the bit an to joyus to know sorrow or to hold fear.he is the kings clisest adviser hearing all and speeking non playig his role, he is a mask on a mask a lovely showing how how smart you have to be to even play his role. a role thet is never giviin full credit becuse on lookers have only the out side to worry about. Whitch he is fine with but quietly longs for a companion to truly understand him and that is why he flurts with masuta and tryes to drag him in to his flights of fancy becuse as afellow perfurformer he hopes masuta will indalge in him and finaly see him threw his gratest act, the act that never gets a curtan call and never an aplause. Even threw his prossesing his programing forces him to pause for the audeance so keenly aware of everything but aloud to disregard and disclose nouthing.

Therorising about Sol

did sol the beach/chimicaly burn his "skin" to rid of the moon but missed a spot / couldent get to it gefor he was stoped and that is why he wares a glove, like did his moon hurt someone verry badly and he "ruiend"his casing with clening suplise trying to get the blood off? And thats why hes so " every moon is a monsture hell bent on hurting people" and " ruins aI is dangerus distroy it befor it hurts you" aswell as " dont be stupid ware gloves whal working with chimicals or else" becus hes projecting and wishes he wasis he still a dul ai but his moon is perma damiged and there body wont swtch back and forth orr did he ... Kill his moon ??) orrr is he moon like he took over his sun in a way and that arm is the only remander of who he use to look like ?? Idk but im sooo down to know also I bet he secritly wishes y/n would feel comftorbull enughf to come visit him in his room like they have with masuta. If they can sleep with what he vews as a moster why won't they have the audasity to visit anouther.

Character study / what im seeing in Sol

he wishes he was decomishond.he wishes he never knew he was more then just a machean becuse the act of having a electric sole is to daunting and he is not a performer. he feels like he must "get rid " of his own and every outher DCA in the houses electric sole / scenteance to save them from this silly game there playing ,becuse the idea of them having feelings and wants outside of there primary derective inharently means he can as well.A nany turnd turn untrustworthy grapaling wth self hate and lothing for himself and a disregard for his own sentiance still secritly wishing to be chosen agin, still needing to care for something all whal being stuck in a loop of self hatred and the lothing of outhers that are a mirror up to his mirror. Scared to get close but not realy wanting to be alone.he talks down to outhers to feel a miniscule amoutnt of control he. Treats outhers like childeren as a way to indalge in his primary functon but lothes tjat he even duse that. He can never truly fufill his purpos agin with out outside help and i think that upsets him to. He is the parent he is the adalt he knows better he is surrounded by ideots stuck in lala land never seeing or admiting how bleck there situashion is becuse when hinory dies ether theyre selled agin and who knows who would buy them or ther put in a box in a box inside anouther box. So to save himself the trubble he barys all his feelings diwn and bathes in lonely ness and poorly descised resentment and sorrow.

Sorry for my poor spelling and ocashinal run on scetences im not a wrighter and may have poorly wirded some things but i hope someone injoys this little blirb of thoughts

( also im saupose to be folding lawdry not going all introspective on @venomous-qwille 's lovely charictors and wrighting lol.) anyway i love these fellas and am excited to know,read and feel more:]

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[shoezuki]

Thinkin bout Sampo Koski rn as like. His character n what we get of him in honkai star rail and he fucking. He confuses me like. There has to be So Much more to him like

The general vibes of him and especially how other characters treat him is that of comic relief, a punching bag, a goof, just a slick conman causing trouble. It's genuinely difficult NOT to insult him n treat him badly with dialogue options and any time he's even mentioned March 7th hisses at him. He's literally a cryptid in belobog. He's a joke.

But. But. There's his light cone. It makes me insane. It contradicts all of that.

In it he's competent. He's badass. He's omnipotent. He's able to somehow know a sniper from however far away is locked on him and address them specifically.

And even like... in the entire plot of jarilo-vi he's spoken of like he's not much. He's a 4 star character. But he's practically as present as bronya and seele and Gepard and his involvement in the story is ASTRONOMICAL. He has a part in every major event. He's the one who drags the Trailblazers and bronya into the Underworld. He's the one who takes you to svarog, to the overworld again. He gets Natasha and saves you from svarog. He's the first character you ever meet on jarilo.

And he seems to just vanish before you confront cocolia. But no. Sampo is the one who has the last word and wraps up the entire mission on jarilo-vi. He fucking breaks the forth wall. Jarilo-vi both begins and ends with Sampo.

He calls himself shadowy comic relief yet he seemingly orchestrated everything. What is he. What the fuck is he doing. What else is up with him and when will we get more of him. I want to bite into him and tear him apart.

[hrodvitnon]

SIGNALIS Big Teef Fic Preview!

Did anybody want a fic with the Big Teef? No? Well, too bad, you're getting one anyway. Have a taste!

---

"Hey, when were you going to tell me you have fangs?"

Elster pauses, having just gotten engrossed in a scene of tense questioning.  "Excuse me?"

Ariane sits beside her at the table, lays down the Replika overview, leans her elbows on it and rests her chin on folded hands, giving the Replika a look that to any Gestalt would be similar to a parent wanting to know why their kids didn't do what was asked of them – or rather, like she's taken on the role of detective in the midst of questioning.  Elster lifts her eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

Ariane elaborates as if telling an anecdote from her Rotfront years.  "I looked through the Replika overview again to see if there was anything I could pick up to help you out, or do something for you, when... in the corner of my little eye, I spy... a schematic.  A schematic, El Bell.  Of retractable canine teeth.  Which you are in possession of, and neglected to inform me."

Elster closes her eyes, knowing where this is going.

"Ariane."

"Now, I don't ask the time of day from a clock..."

"Liebchen."

"But I'm not shy about how hot I am for nibbles and love bites..."

"Light of my life."

"And you didn't think to tell me?  When were you going to tell me?"

"Settle down, dramatic.  They're for self-defense, not for sexy time.  Besides, it's not even unique to LSTRs – all Replikas have them."

Ariane blinks in surprise.  "Wait, seriously?  Even Eules?"  Having such teeth makes sense for a Storch or Star, but an Eule?

"Absolutely.  I once heard that a secretary unit back at headquarters almost bit the fingers off an untrained Storch who got too ugly with her.  Not sure how it ended, but I like to think Frau Beißer got off with a warning and the Storch never lived it down.  Self-defense, like I said.  With combat units it's a last resort in case one runs out of ammunition or doesn't have a melee weapon ready."

Ariane's eyes widen.  Eules always looked so delicate to her with how lightly they carried themselves, but it seems even those domestic units are made of sterner stuff than expected.  Her eyes lower to Elster's mouth.  Elster gives her a knowing look.

"No."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You have that 'in the interest of science' look on your face."

"I just want to see them for myself!  There's nothing wrong with that!  Show me, please?  It's not like I'll ever see them in a combat situation, unless we get picked up by aliens or something."

Elster stares.  Ariane stares back, pleading and doe-eyed, just seconds away from deploying the dreaded pouty bottom lip.  Elster gives in, of course.  She can never really refuse humoring her love, so she teasingly grouses like it's such a chore.

"Ach, fine."

Ariane tries not to drum her fingers happily while Elster pops the mandibles in her jaw, mouth opening.  Nothing out of the ordinary, just 28 white teeth – go figure Replikas aren't manufactured with wisdom teeth – and then Elster curls her lips back wolfishly, her canines extending with an audible click.

There is, of course, the knee-jerk flicker of saucy fascination since Ariane does so love when Elster bites her, but in the moment it's also tempered by actual scientific curiosity.  Elster's lengthened teeth are only sharp at the very tips, as Ariane knows from experience, so while they probably can pierce through flesh or biomechanical components they must be intended for crushing and tearing, clamping down and keeping a steady grip thanks to powerful jaws.

A rather specific detail from the Replika overview comes to mind: the LSTR unit has a bite force of 1250 PSI at minimum.  Ariane's heard of certain Vinetan animals having a comparable bite, capable of piercing through the skulls of their prey.  The knowledge of this results in a revelatory daydream of hostile alien forces intercepting their little ship and abducting Ariane, causing Elster to crush an extraterrestrial skull or spine between her teeth as she goes in a rampaging rescue...

"Ari," Elster drawls.  The extended fangs seem to mess with her speech, an added lisp causing her accent to border on nonsensical.  "Ye hab dat look."

Ariane shakes her head.  "I wasn't thinking of anything sexy this time, honest!"

"Uh-huh.  Cad I pud dese away now?  Iz hahd to talk."

[fakecats]

there's no such thing as "me," now / as hard as you look, nowhere to be found / i can't remember a single role i was suited for - lyrics from dramaturgy by eve

[ddazzlingblds-archive]

🧨  —  a long fuse!    a headcanon about my muse and their temper, and a time when they lost it.

how do u always send me the specific one i eyed the second i reblogged the meme DO U HAVE MAGIC POWERS- ━ @femtaile

      his irritation at the blond man keeps growing by the minute.

      this dude has been following him for days, reaching for him the second he saw Sampo tumbling out of a cargo-carrying ship. he helped the scrawny teenager back on his feet with a welcoming smile, sapphire eyes all but shimmering as he said “ welcome to Astrarziv-B! hi, hello- you sure took a funny way to get here... ” ━ and then, just as Sampo was ready to make an hasty escape, he did the unthinkable- the guy started asking questions.

      “ you sure are young to be traveling like this! where are you from? ”

      “ Punklorde, ” a quick lie, meaning to divert the attention. with short and colorful hair like his, where is he supposed to be from? “ i came here to trade some stu- uh, goods. ” better. more professional.

      “ oh, a merchant? dear me, i never saw such a young one- ” you said that already, Sampo fights the urge to eyeroll everytime the stranger points it out with growing surprise, “ do you need any help? i could show you around- ”

      “ don't need it━i'll look around myself. thanks! toodles, ” thankfully, the man's raised arm allows a young Sampo to slip under it, mixing himself in the crowd and making quick work on losing the guy.

      or so he thinks.

      during Sampo's stay, he keeps appearing, irritatingly trailing behind him like a puppy, always with his “ hi, hello! ” that is grating on the nerves. the man doesn't want to buy anything from him- which loses any interest the merchant may have had for him very quickly. he seems instead to be guided by an hero complex. thinking that the teenager that Sampo is seems to be lost and in need of guidance. the simple idea of it is quick to triple the growing resentment.

      “ found you! and just in the worst place of all- ” a sucker he was trying to sell something to quickly lifts his eyes from the relic and scampers off faster than Sampo can imagine once the familiar voice speaks up from his right. an hand lands on his shoulder, and he almost startles, looking up at cerulean eyes.

      irritation immediately settles in. “ thanks for blowing up the deal, buddy. real nice of you- ”

      “ deal? what deal? this place is dangerous! it's one of the shadiest suburb in the planet! the only deal you can find here is a stab to the gut. ”

      there's real concern animating his eyes, but Sampo is too pissed off to make something out of it. concern doesn't sell anything.

      “ duh! why do you think i came here? the shadier the district is, the better stuff they wanna buy for themselves, ” the merchant informs him, like he's speaking to a poor idiot who can't understand basic language. “ and you just blew the entire plan. it took me a week to convince the guy to even look at my stuff! ”

      a push to the other's chest, and the guy is forced back, startled by the touch.

      “ now, go help someone else like the good samaritan you are, and stop trailing behind me. i got stuff to do- without you acting like my bodyguard! shoo! ”

      before he can be chased on foot, Sampo slings the backpack over his shoulder and escapes again, with the dude's voice growing less and less loud behind him. perhaps the message will be clear, this time.

      in the following weeks, he keeps growing more and more bothered: the people of Astrarziv-B are cheap, stingy and overly-suspicious, and a merchant can only have so much patience before he has to verbally encourage someone that his relics are safe, and a real deal- only for them to detect the irritation in his tone of voice, and slip from his grasp too fast for him to follow.

      isn't his tongue coated in silver enough? there's no way he wants to sing the praises of a ragged idiot looking and pawing at his wires. if they don't buy anything, he has wasted time- and, even if they buy something, it's still too little to be repaid for a sore throat spewing compliments for half an hour.

      he can never sound sincere enough for them to fall for it, anyway.

      to calm the angered bubbling of his temper down, his fingers pick at a dirty packet in his pocket- and pull out a long, white cigarette that he lights with an huff, inhaling the smoke and letting himself have a small break. he thinks he did well, today- well, as well as he could given the circumstances-

      “ you smoke? ”

      with a jolt of his entire body, he witnesses the blond idiot emerge from a bush, looking more surprised and concerned than ever.

      rationally, he knows that the dude is acting out of concern- and it doesn't make it less annoying for him. he needs a punching ball- he needs a scapegoat for all that anger and unfairness since he stepped foot in here, and it's right in front of him.

      good for Sampo. less good for the guy where Sampo's expression mutates into a frown, and his mouth opens.

      “ ━i told you to QUIT FOLLOWING ME! ”

      the exasperated bellow is powerful, his voice pratically snarling it out; it's directed at the man that quickly puts a few meters between, palms up in a conciliating gesture and such a sheepish expression that screams for his face to be punched in.

      it doesn't matter how hard he's trying to backtrack, because Sampo is on him in an instant, finger digging in his chest.

      “ you keep appearing behind me like it's some sort of fucking magic trick- i told you to stop! I SAID STOP FOLLOWING ME, did you not heard it?! ” he's pretty sure he'll leave a bruise between pectorals for how hard he's mashing fingertip into the other's chest.

      “ do i have to speak in another language for you to get it? ” tap tap tap. “ what do you think i am, a little kid with no sense of danger? i'm a merchant- i sell things, and i know damn well how to do it- ” kind of. he won't tell the dude.

      “ -and if i see you popping up like a fucking spring box sniffing around me again, i'll- ”

      he doesn't know what he'll do. he guesses it goes hand in hand with a sharp weapon in the other's guts. the sharp weapon in question is drawn from behind his back- a sharp, big hunter knife, the blade uneven due to the rust coating it.

      raised until there's barely an inch between the sharpest part of it and the dude's face- he doesn't want to hurt. just to scare. “ -i'll cut a whole slice out of you! ”

      a much older Sampo is laughing quietly, shaking his head as he recounts the tale.

      “ ━and you wanna know what he told me next? ” he chuckles, incredulous. “ he just pushed my knife away and said careful, you'll get tetanus from that thing. i'll get you a better one. aeons, ” his laughter is just a bit on the sad side, clueing the listener to the man's destiny; nobody speaks this fondly of someone alive.

      “ not many guys like him left out here- and for very, very good reasons. ”       is this one of Sampo's many tearjerking stories, or the truth? hard to figure it out- and he doesn't seem particulary keen on telling...

[bitchimasnake-sss]

I wanna see how the monster trip would react to their partner begging for round two..

maybe I'm just dirty or smth but I really wanna see Sanji's nose bleed /j

ahaha making sanji nosebleed is kinda my passion /hj

🌙thinkin' about: the monster trio! vs round two!

cw: pussydrunk boys. nsfw thoughts include: cunnilingus, creampie, overstimulation, cocky men, doin' it raw. oh, and pussydrunk men. okay, thats it. MDNI OR ILL HUNT YOUR PETTY ASSES. m.list

monkey d. luffy:

❤️monkey d. luffy knew — from the bottom of his heart — that you were the girl of his dreams. there was no doubt about that. the way you smiled at him, the way you pouted when he would annoy you, the way you happened to lecture him when he would act reckless. you were his, no doubt. ❤️but holy fucking shit. looking at you all bleary-eyed and tongue-tied, he almost felt his heart rip him apart whole. looking up at him with such a desperate look that it almost knocked the wind right of his lungs and replaced the air he breathed with something much more sinister. what did you want of him? he was all yours from the very start. ❤️covered in sheen, strands of jet-black clung to his forehead and his heavy breath fanned over you spent face. his cock had stayed buried within you despite painting your walls white a few minutes prior. despite making you cum twice already. shifting his weight on his elbows, he bent down to press open-mouthed kisses all over your pretty face. and as he felt weak nails breaking the skin of his biceps, his eyes met yours, "what's wrong, peach?" "l-luff," your voice stuttered, and he almost grinned at the the sweet falsetto, "hm?" "'nother round, please?" ❤️and how could monkey d. luffy say no to the girl of his dreams? grinning ear to ear, his larger palm intertwined against your weak ones. bringing you dainty palm up to his lips, he pressed down a messy kiss just as his hips pistoned into your cushiony heat, "ah ah, luffy. fuck—" "shh." a delirious smile on his face, lust-induced haze in his eyes, and your name on his lips, "don't need'ta say twice, baby."

roronoa zoro:

💚as a swordsman, roronoa zoro revered himself to be a man that could mask all emotions, all calculations behind a stoic look-of-stone. but were you so well-versed in him that you could read his mind? seemed like that since you were begging for the very thing he was ready to give. "zo." you looked over your shoulder, a stern twinge in your words despite your trembling lips and teary eyes, "again, please." "ha-hah, again?" his thumb circled your twitching clit, enjoying the way you squirmed under him with every wicked swipe over your overstimulated cunt. faux concern on his tongue, he teased you, "think you can handle it?" "yes. another round, please." bobbing your head up and down so fast, looking back at him with such raw emotion that he felt a lump in his heart where you were. fuck, why did you have to be so pretty? 💚snuggling his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his heady words accompanied the frenzied touches across your swollen clit, "might regret it later when you can't walk." "i don' care, zo— want you." you whined, your sweet voice so close to his ears. and who does he think he is that he can say no to you? nothing. he's a fool at your hands, always. 💚 and you should really be careful what you wished for. because as the swordsman dragged his tip all the way out just to push it right back in all of a sudden jolted you forward. your moans muffled as you bit down the pillow, "s-slow down, zo— ngh fu—" "c'mon," he purred, words strained as he tried to maintain whatever sanity he had, "you asked for this."

vinsmoke sanji:

he has a nosebleed as soon as you call out his name in that weak voice of yours but let's pretend he's got game. 💙vinsmoke sanji treated you like you were glass in battles. scared of out his wits that one wayward shove, one reckless pull and you would shatter. but what a fucking hypocrite he was! becausr right now, he was the one wrecking you. experienced fingers curling within your plushy heat, his tongue toying with your swollen clit as his eyes watched the woman over him fall apart. "hah, fuck." you panted, walls clenching around his fingers dangerously as nectar pooled from your divine body down his greedy throat. he almost felt himself come undone as your feeble voice called out his name. 💙he knew the routine by now. vinsmoke sanji would lap away at you like a man starve as you will try to pry him off by squirming and pulling his hair. in retaliation, he would grab your thighs harder and continue eating you out till you cried out his name loud enough for everyone to hear. simple enough, right? 💙but right now as he looked up at you, he didn't find you clenching your eyes and trying to pry him off. instead, you met his eyes with a hungry glint. reddened, kiss-bitten lips commanding him, "sanji, again." "hm?" his eyes widened, and as he pulled back, your slick shined on his lips and jaw. he looked up, grinning like the devil, "what did you say, my love?" at his sudden inspection, your throat closed up. voice growing weak, feeble, "a-again?" he answered by sinking his face back against your heat. and the last thing you heard before you lost all semblance of sanity was a rough rumble of, "again."

a/n: NOT PROOFREAD, IM LEGIT GOING OUT WITH FRIENDS IN LIKE 2 MINS AND I NEEDED TO POST THIS BEFORE I LEAVE AAAAAH anyways. ahem, ahem. am i ever gonna get tired of these men? no. so, just enjoy. okay, a genuine question: should i add ace, law to my usual roster [i.e. the monster trio]? i love writing ace so i'm just finding excuses lmaoo and with law, i think it'll give me good practice before i transition into long fics for him. let me know what you think lol. credits: @rookthornesartistry for the dividers! tagging: @mist-ixx [let me know if you'd like to be in the taglist!] m.list

[earthtooz]

earth i need to catch up on ur ratio fics (i read some of flower one and i ate that shit up omg) because now the thought of seething annoying veritas being all angry whenever you even look at someone else infests my mind like an annoying worm. i hope you know this is what those fics do to me

x : EQUILIBRIUM : *+ﾟ

in which: ratio navigates through the perplexities of pining after you.

warnings: fluff, 1.6k words, intelligentsia guild!gn!reader is kind of a social butterfly and talkative, ratio is so pathetic i love him T^T, alcohol, aventurine feature! my writing isn't the best for this one i apologise :,D

a/n: thank u for the ask mhie!! i wanted to say that you enabled me perfectly because ever since his release, i've only ever thought about this one scenario where he's staring at reader from afar and absolutely seething because he's not the one talking to them xD sorry for taking so long omfg and im sorry for turning this into a fic, i just saw my opportunity and lunged at it like an animal rawr

Jealousy and envy are not familiar concepts to Dr. Ratio.

He knows of them, understands the inner workings and philosophical aptitude of both, knowing that they lead man down irrational paths. Yet, for all his years, he has not felt the bitterness of jealousy and envy squeeze him, cannot fathom why one cannot control their feelings and maintain modesty. 

Perhaps, the root of it was whatever Ratio wanted, he received. The only thing he has ever craved is knowledge, and it is available for him with the flick of a page, absorbing even the most complex of theories with ease. Conceptual, mathematical, scientific- not a single school of thought has hidden itself from his vast mind, proven by the many PhDs he has with his name.

Everything fickle that anyone could ever crave has long been his. 

Envious over someone else’s wealth? Money comes and goes, and merely serves as a medium of exchange. As long as he has enough to live comfortably, then he is content. Having too much of one thing can often result in a bottomless pit of wanting more, and material good was perhaps the most evil of all.

Jealous over someone else’s beauty? Compliments and adoration are not an unfamiliar concept to him; one glance at what’s under that stone mask will have others fawning over him instantly. He claims the mask is to protect him from idiots, but perhaps it also serves to shield others from the walking sculpture that is the Veritas Ratio, sharp features and toned body, there is nothing undesirable about him.

In conclusion, jealousy and envy are not familiar concepts to Dr. Ratio. Until he met you.

A fellow member of the Intelligentsia Guild but in another department, you too are a favoured delegate of the IPC, frequently attending the same events and trips as him. Thus, it was only natural that you’d become acquainted and that he’d grow to respect you, hearing about your achievements and dedications as an academic. What was unnatural, however, was the palpitations of his heart, weakness in his knees, paired with an overwhelming excitement to see you.

He’s no fool. These sensations were all symptoms of romantic attraction, but you were a variable uncounted for in the distribution of his life, and he was not ready for an outlier so powerful that it completely ‘skewed’ him over.  

Now, he laments in the corner of champagne parties meant for socialites. He is no lover of mundane interaction but as his contract with the IPC, he comes as a representative of the Intelligentsia Guild. 

These formal events always drained the life out of him, needing him to discard his everyday, flowey, carefree attire for a constraining suit, conforming him into the regular majority. 

He raises the glass of champagne to his lips and takes a small sip, the liquor serves as lubricant to the throat. The smooth finish of the drink is exactly what he needs; talking about the same subject again and again becomes exhausting, and even though it is in his role criteria, Ratio cannot wait to leave.

But he won’t, because he hasn’t seen you yet. 

Glancing around the room for the upteemth time this evening, you still have not entered his line of sight, and he leans against the bar in disappointment.

“Oh, why the long face, Ratio?” A mischievous voice coos from beside him. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“Spare me your sentiments, gambler,” Ratio spits back.

“As you wish. Not enjoying the party?”

“If you have something you wish to say then please, spare me the pleasantries.”

Aventurine laughs, all boisterous and extravagant, gold jewelry clicking against each other, as if coming alive to match his jovialness. He really is a personified headache. “You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”

The scholar tenses, muscles tugging at the stiff fabric of his blazer, but that micro action was enough of an answer for Aventurine.

A gloved hand points up to the mezzanine of the grand hall. Ratio spots you, leaning against the railing whilst conversing with another man, one briefly talked to earlier. If he didn’t like him before, then he certainly didn’t now.

Handsome face turning into a small scowl, it’s almost as if you feel the intensity of a certain, golden stare, causing you to turn around and find the source, eyes eventually landing on the figures of a coworker or two. A brief smile graces your face before you turn around again, turning your back on the two onlookers.

Ratio loathes what he sees, and something within him yearns to be the only man you look at, causing an ugly, green sensation to brew within him; a concoction that can only be labelled as ‘jealousy’.

He just cannot figure out what other men have that he doesn’t; what is making him secondary in your heart? Why do you give these... idiots the time of day when you could be with him- talking to him?

It's all too perplexing, you make him perplexed.

“Well, go on, doctor,” Aventurine prompts. “Place your bets before it’s too late.” 

The purple-haired sighs, pushing himself off the bar. His feet take him to you, up the velvet-carpeted stairs. His gaze never strays from you, ensuring you stay within his line of sight and eventually, he stops right behind you, acting as a looming shadow.

His gaze is cold, hoping to pierce through your conversation partner so he can finally cower away and make room for Ratio.

“Doctor!” You exclaim, surprised by his sudden appearance. “When did you get here?”

Taking a hint, the stranger finally begins to peel himself away. “It was lovely talking to you, Y/n. I hope this won’t be our last conversation.”

“Likewise, have a lovely evening,” you farewell him with a small smile as the other party turns and eventually disappears from sight.

Finally. Triumph and victory settles in Ratio’s chest when your attention is directed solely at him, but you look up at him with arms crossed and a raised eyebrow.

“I swore I saw you downstairs moments ago, how did you get up here so fast?”

“I simply walked a normal pace, is that so abnormal?”

“I suppose not,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Veritas allows himself a glance over of your outfit, admiring you. “Have you talked to anyone interesting?”

You are by far the most interesting part of the evening, he thinks.

“Hardly,” he murmurs. 

“My guess is that you’d prefer to be grading student papers?” You muse, leaning in closer.

His heartbeat spikes. “Well, that is hard to say. Which would you prefer?”

“As much as I love my students, I need a break from the same thesis statements regurgitated in different formats. I’d rather be here.”

“Then that is my answer too.”

You give him a look that says ‘really?’, clearly not believing his aloof statement. Truthfully, he would rather be here because here is where you are, and he’d like a few moments with you before returning to the gloominess of his office. The hour hand is only at 11, what’s the rush?

Then, your eyes flicker to his neckline and they widen briefly, as if finding an issue with his tuxedo. “Hold still,” you command, hands coming up to rest on his sturdy chest.

You’re fixing his tie, he realises, feeling the fabric tighten ever so slightly as you adjust it. When you’re done, you flatten out the material with a satisfied smile, running your hands casually over his chest, and he hopes you cannot feel his heart jump. How do you touch him so easily, as if it means nothing?

“It was crooked,” you explain, “now you are looking as sharp as ever, Doc.”

“Thank you,” is the best thing he can sputter out.

“No problem, we need to have our genius looking proper at all times!”

Ratio is too stunned to speak, he fears that if he tried, whatever leaves his mouth will result in a various garbles and attempts at sentences.

Thankfully, you haven’t run out of words to say. “Oh, I have yet to get a drink! Will you accompany me? I could go for some refreshments right now.”

He nods and extends an arm for you to hold, and you happily accept it, holding onto his bicep as you ramble on about a conversation exchanged earlier in the night. If you were anyone else, he would not have cared in the slightest, but instead, he listens intently, taking slow and measured steps downstairs so you are comfortable.

In this bubble, the esteemed scholar is content. With you so close, it feels as if everything has clicked into place, like the scales of fate have finally balanced and equilibrium has been achieved. He could listen to you forever.

Unfortunately, all good things don’t last, because a face Ratio doesn’t recognise approaches you, hand resting on your shoulder. Judging from the manner of which they address and talk to you, you are close, and you don’t shrug them off. Next thing he knows, you’re ripped away from him, dragged into the sea of people.

You spare him a glance over your shoulder, as if apologising for the sudden disruption.

Still, he sighs, left behind with nothing but fervent symptoms of love clinging to his being, squeezing him for all he is.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 2

Part 1

Damian glared at the envelope. He and Father were in the process of analysing the letter for any signs of toxins, explosives or other traps. Obviously he wasn’t fool enough to open a missive from a questionable source without taking precautions. So far, all their scans had come up empty. Literally. The letter was defying all their attempts at chemical or spectroscopic testing, x-ray and magnetic resonance scans were inconclusive, it defied all properties of ordinary matter. It was frustrating. It was vexing. He was blaming magic.

For all intents and purposes, the letter looked like ordinary paper, with an ordinary wax seal, bearing the initials CW. The looping handwriting addressing it to Damian was precise and neat. Swiping the surface of the letter for chemical traces yielded no results. When Damian had tried to cut off a corner of the paper for analysis it had resisted all attempts, including a laser and a diamond headed cutting tool. Damian’s only satisfaction was that when Father had grunted and taken over the task from Damian, he had no more success than his son. As if Damian didn’t know how to perform the standard array of tests!

It certainly didn’t help that his siblings wouldn’t stop their incessant chattering!

“I’m just saying, ghosts wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve encountered, Red. I’m not sure it would even make my personal Top 5.”

It seemed gossip among heroes travelled faster than the speed of light.

“Really, Nightwing? Ghosts? It’s far more likely to be a meta with something to hide. Or a few screws loose.” Damian could practically hear the eyeroll in Drake’s voice “And since when do ghosts act as glorified mailmen?”

“I don’t know Red, since when do aliens pretend to be Kansas farmboys? C’mon, we deal with magic users all the time!”

“And lets not forget people coming back from the dead” Red Hood interjected over the open comm line.

“Magic is just science we don’t understand yet. Any sufficiently analysed magic becomes indistinguishable from science!”

“B, a little help here?”

“Hn” Father straightened up from his position at the lab table “Oracle, any progress on clearing up the footage from Robin’s mask?”

Grayson threw up his hands with a frustrated huff while Drake smirked.

“The program is almost finished rendering. Whatever scrambler they used did a real number on the video quality. I’m surprised the audio is as clear as it is.” Oracle replied.

“Hn. And the isotope tracer on the money?”

“Sorry B, no hits on the local sensors. Wherever the guy went it’s either outside Gotham or shielded somehow.” she said, mildly frustrated.

“Maybe it’s ghost magiiiiic” Drake sing-songed. Grayson lightly cuffed the back of his head, to which the former Robin responded with a firm shove. Their interaction quickly devolved into a childish tussle.

Damian gave an annoyed huff. “Don’t you two imbeciles have anything better to do?”

“Aww, we’re just here to look out for our baby brother!” Nightwing teased.

“Yeah, we gotta make sure your ghost encounter didn’t leave any lasting psychological damage!” Red Robin added.

Before Damian could retaliate for their needling, Oracle chimed in. “Uh, guys? You’re going to want to see this. Most of the footage was corrupted beyond repair, but I was able to pull some partial stills and, well…” she threw a handful of pictures up on the screen. There was artifacting marring them, but parts of the stranger were visible in each of them. Oracle magnified one that had a pretty good view of his face.

“Holy shit” Drake whispered.

Damian frowned. “What?”

“Dami, he looks like you. Just… older.” Grayson said softly.

“What are you talking about?” Damian snapped.

“Disregard the pale colouring for a second. The nose, the chin… he looks like you if you had a growth spurt,” Drake wrinkled his nose “and went through puberty.”

The commlines erupted into chaos. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Spoiler exclaimed “are you telling me there’s an older version of Robin running around Gotham?!”

“Copy?” Batgirl inquired.

“Don’t tell me Talia cooked up Demon Brat 2.0!”

“Given that he looks older it’s more likely version 0.1 if anything,” Drake snarked, “though there’s the possibility of artificially accelerated growth rates…”

Damian had had enough. “Tt. You are ignoring the obvious - if this is some kind of supernatural entity it likely copied aspects of my appearance in an attempt to engender feelings of familiarity.” he said haughtily, pushing down the uncomfortable churning in his stomach. There was no way Mother would replace him with a cheap copy. She couldn’t! “Besides, the creature has obvious powers and neither of my bloodlines has any trace of the meta gene.”

“That’s ignoring the ghostly elephant in the room.” Grayson chimed in, “Maybe it’s a dead ancestor?”

Drake gave their older brother an annoyed look “Even a time travelling descendant from the future is more likely than that. And delivering a ‘prophecy’ to boot?”

Oracle pulled up an aged up picture of Damian next to the stranger’s, highlighting several reference points. “On closer inspection, there’s a couple of discrepancies. The cheekbones for one - Robin definitely takes after his mother, while our mystery meta looks more like… well… Robin’s grandmother on the paternal side.” she finished hesitantly. “B?”

They turned to look at Batman, who had remained silent during the whole exchange. If they hadn’t known him so well they would have thought him unaffected, but the tightening around his mouth betrayed his agitation.

“There’s no use in pointless speculation until we have more data to work from,” he growled, “Oracle, look for any reports of a meta matching the target. Since our regular methods have failed to yield results, I will contact the JLD about running tests on the letter.” He turned to Drake, “Red Robin, see what you can find on recent League activities. If this is another scheme by Ra’s or Talia we need to know about it.”

“The last thing we need is more demon spawn running around!” Red Hood groaned over the comms.

Damian was furious. This was absurd! To even indulge the possibility that that creature was in any way related to him was making him feel like he had swallowed battery acid. He was the Demon’s Heir! He was not replaceable! There was only one thing to do.

“Robin? Stop!”

He ignored his Father’s shout. He stomped over to the lab table, snatched up the envelope and broke the seal.

Nothing happened.

He unfolded the paper and saw the same handwriting that had been on the outside.

Brother of blood, brother of soul

Never buried but already mourned

In lightning and ice the scorned child returned

To strike down the Demon’s Head

With all that Death earned

Damian’s hand shook. He reread the lines over and over again, refusing to comprehend. He could feel his Father standing behind him, scrutinising the letter as well.

“Son…”

Suddenly, the paper burst into green flames, going up into smoke that dissipated unnaturally quickly.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Then…

“Well that was needlessly melodramatic” Nightwing remarked.

Part 3

[lmaowhatt]

long over due - jj m.

summary: the honeymoon phase between you and jj is over, now hits one of the arguments where the commitment you both share to your relationship begins to get questioned.

set: doesnt really matter tbh

pairing: jj maybank x pogue!reader

warnings: not proofread in the slightest, angst, mad/angry!jj, mad/angry!reader erm idk what else👍🏽

if theres any other fell free to let me know!

from the moment you got with him, you knew jj was emotionally unavailable to some extent. everyone did. there was always a limit to what he would confess to you, his girlfriend of around two years. there was even things he wouldn't tell john b, as i said, emotionally unavailable to some extent.

which is what led you to this moment. the honeymoon phase in your relationship where you would both talk and laugh for hours on end about random things after intimate moments, or even after random hangouts was long gone.

after spending countless hours together, the arguments began. over little things at first, him not pulling his weight around your shared home, both you and him coming home late from different parties, most small arguments almost always ending up with makeup sex.

this argument however, seemed to finally bring the both of you to the part of this phase where your loyalties and commitment to said relationship begin to be questioned. "regardless, jj!" you threw your hands up in frustration, both of you standing on opposite sides of the bed. "you dont get it!" he raised his voice slightly.

"we used to spend hours talking, laughing, just fucking around. and now? were fuck running through the fucking motions!" he tossed his cap somewhere in the room, frustration bubbling through. "dont pull that shit. ive been fucking trying to connect with you, but were not on the same page! at all." you pointed a stern finger at him, walking around your side of the bed to stand a mere foot away from him.

jj scoffed, looking off to the side as he gathered his thoughts, ensuring he didnt continue the argument with an empty head. “i know that but its like you dont fucking care!” he called to you, moving to walk around you, now feeling suffocated in the corner you had backed him into on his side of the bed.

you grabbed his forearm, turning him back towards you, sending him a pointed glare. he stopped, but jerked his arm back to remove your grip from him. “i do care, believe me i do. but i have other shit to focus on! its hard to balance us while still trying to keep us perfect!” you pointed a finger to your sternum before letting your arm fall to your side, your head tilted slightly in defeat.

the man groaned slightly, running a hand through his slightly matted hair, “its not about being fucking perfect! a'ight? i just need to know you're here with me and not running through the damn motions!” he voiced, to which you only retaliated. “i am! but dont act like you're not here at times, you're not fucking innocent.” you called up to him, you watched a flash of vulnerability strike his features.

however, he quickly masked it, shaking his head. “dont do that. you knew the fucking baggage i was carrying when i asked to be your boyfriend. dont use that shit against me" he followed after you as you moved around him and out of your room. "and i know im not fucking perfect. why do you think im not pressing you to be, huh?" he called to you.

“im not trying to use shit against you!” you yelled, tossing your arm out beside you, knocking your knuckle into the wall. you ignored the, "couldve fooled me," that came out of his mouth, continuing. "but i cant deal with you and your shit while i have things to deal with too, alright?" he raised his eyebrows with a dry laugh leaving his lips, “oh my shit? im sorry, i didnt know i was a fucking charity case to you.” he stopped in front of you, looking down at you with anger coursing through his veins.

you shook your head as you looked up at him, “i never said that—” he cut you off abruptly with a hard exhale, still trying to get his viewpoint understood. “you dont get it, do you? you're checked out! its like im the only one—” now it was your turn to cut him off, mostly offended at the way he was painting you out to be.

you scoffed loud enough for him to stop for a moment. "dont run your mouth without knowing shit. i want you to think long and hard about what exactly you're going to say before you open your mouth and spit some bullshit at me.” you began, rolling your eyes at his implication.

“and im not checked out! but youre so focused on what we used to have that youre not noticing everything im doing. right now, jj." your voice cracked slightly, you pressed your pointer finger into your other palm, trying to express your words further. jj leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “oh—” he scoffs, “please, enlighten me. what have you done. right now.” he enunciated his words.

at a loss for words—not to be confused with not actually having an example—you turned the focus back on him. "you dont think ive seen how you pull away too? sometimes you act like im some fucking child you're forced to look after!" you turn on your heel, heading towards the kitchen. your pull the fridge door open, grabbing a water bottle out of it.

"im not fucking pulling away, okay? im desperate for something real! s-something— i cant be here for you and fix everything," his voice raises to a shout as he addressed you from across the room. "you cant expect me to use magic or some shit to know when you're struggling, not when im dealing with my own shit too!" you hear his voice crack slightly, but you dont dare face him in the moment.

you let out a soft groan, leaning on your hands that were placed on the kitchen island, hands too shaky to open the bottle. "im not expecting you to do anything. for fucks sake jj im dealing with shit too alright? you know this! i just want to feel like you're here for me even if i cant express what im feeling!" you jerk your arm outwards, hitting the back of your palm against the bottle, in turn tossing the water bottle to the ground with a hard thump.

this earns a look from jj. one mixed with concern and a hint of surprise. but its gone as fast as you noticed it, replaced with his previous anger, nose flaring slightly. "im not asking for anything else! i just want to know you're trying to be here for me just like im trying to be there for you!” he raises his voice slightly once more, cracking in despair.

“im trying,” your voice cracks, but you continue nonetheless. “i need you to know its fucking hard, but im trying, my best.” he rests his forearms on the kitchen island as he hears you speak, hands tangled in his slightly matted hair, tugging slightly. he looks up from his spot opposite you, face softening slightly as he noticed the your defeated stance, as well as the tears welling in your eyes.

he speaks again, his voice softer. “i dont want to lose you, baby,” the nickname rolls off his tongue with such normality, that even in such a tense moment, you miss the weird feeling you get in your stomach at the use of the word. “i dont know how make you see that im here for you. im still fighting and i need— i want you, here with me,” he whispers as he approaches you slowly.

a tear falls from your eye. “its hard, jj,” you tell him, honestly. he swipes his thumb over your cheekbone, wiping the stray tear, his hand dropping to his side afterward. for a fleeting moment, the fight is forgotten, but the tension between you remains. you step back slightly. “i need space,” you mutter, and he steps back too, thinking you meant right then.

"no—" you stop for a moment, "space, space." you reiterate, getting you meaning across. your heart breaks as his face drops. he immediately shakes his head in denial, "you dont mean that," he mumbles quietly, mostly trying to convince himself.

if even possible, his face drops further as the reality settles in his brain and you move past him to pack an overnight bag. you have no damn idea where youll stay for the night but youre determined that this is whats needed in for the two of you to progress. he immediately follows after you, hoping youre playing a shitty prank on him.

"please, dont go." he stands by your shared bedroom door. his small plea is barely heard as you feel your heart thump against your rib cage. "baby, please." he whispers again as you zip up your bag. standing, you hesitantly take his teary face in your hands, the movement causing a tear to finally slip from his waterline.

you shake your head, wiping the oncoming tears with your thumbs. "this isnt permanent." you reassure, letting out a shaky breath as he takes one of your hands in his. "just need one night, to cool off. we both do. ill come back tomorrow." you take his wrist in your hand, manipulating it so you could hook your pinkie with his. "thanks a promise, alright?" you looked up at him as he nodded.

you placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips as you walked past him, the warmth of your touch still lingering in the air. he stood still, his heart heavy, feeling his cheeks grow even wetter with tears. as the sound of the front door closing echoed, he turned towards the window, watching your figure disappear into the distance, each passing second making your absence feel more real.

a/n: holy balls i cried while writing this. is that wrong?

a/n pt.2: wrote this because me and my ex broke up around two years ago after new years😛😛

(also i tried something new with the quotes i felt like the italics and bold was too out there (idk))

[ironunderstands]

These Aventurine, Topaz and Jade comparisons are getting out of hand…

As much as I adore both of them, I think it’s very disingenuous to compare Aventurine and Topaz’s lore and be like “but they are the same!!!! If people like Aventurine and dislike Topaz that’s just misogyny!!! and like… no?

Topaz’s whole thing is that she doesn’t know the extent of the IPC’s evil, and believes that what she’s doing is genuinely the right thing to do. Even if she never had a choice in joining the IPC, she (incorrectly) believes what they did to her and her planet is justified, logical and moral, and for those reasons she stands with them. Part of this is likely IPC brainwashing, as she was probably very young when she became an indentured servant to them, and someone living on a planet on the brink of destruction would likely view anyone who stepped up to save them as heroes (imo the IPC likely waited for the point of no return to establish contact so her people had no other choice to except).

However Topaz got best end of the proverbial stick, her planet and its people were deemed useful by the IPC, and didn’t fight back, even if in the end they were still exploited.

Unfortunately, we have seen through Boothill, Belabog and Aventurine what happens when that isn’t the case.

Boothill’s planet got bombed and people genocided because they had a resource useful to the IPC, but were unwilling to cooperate with them or hand over their home, so the IPC decided to eradicate them.

Belabog had a debt owed to the IPC that was ridiculously high and very unfair to expect them to pay back, and had Topaz not convinced the higher ups to give them some time (which she got demoted for), the IPC would have taken Belabog by force

That leaves us with Aventurine, whose story is in no way on the same level of bad as Topaz’s. Unlike her, he has witnessed and experienced firsthand the truly awful shit the IPC can do.

They took custody of Sigonia and promised to offer the Avgin aid in their fight against the Katacans, at the very least protect them from harm. (Sidenote, since the IPC held control over Sigonia, they should have stopped the fighting in the first place). However, they simply stood by and did nothing, resulting in the deaths of around 6,000 Avgin, with around 3,000 went missing (or injured, I don’t remember, either way it’s bad).

But wait! It gets worse! Aventurine when he was still known as Kakavasha referred to the IPC as “the men in black/the men in black suits”, and his first master says he bought Aventurine from “the men in black/the men in black suits”, likely mocking the way he referred to them. Therefore THE IPC TOOK PART AND LIKELY EVEN CREATED A FUCKING SLAVE TRADE IN SIGONIA

Look being made into an indentured servant isn’t fun, but idk personally I’d take that any day of the week OVER BEING ENSLAVED

That’s not even to mention how horrible of a reputation Sigonian’s have in the galaxy, one likely spread by/resulting from the IPC themselves, as at least on Aventurines planet they do not have the mobility to make a name for themselves. (Honestly it’s a mini theory of mine that Aventurines scam is what partly contributed to this reputation, and his status as a slave is something the IPC conveniently left out in their broadcast about it-)

But, you might be saying, didn’t Aventurine have a choice to join the masked fools and leave the IPC, isn’t he free now? And to that I say, it’s complicated.

Considering the amount of suicidal shit Aventurine has done while being part of the IPC, he clearly hasn’t been having a fun time as a member of one, so why does he stick around, especially with the Fools invite? Even if he was a slave, does that absolve him of the crimes he’s committing now? What could justify his actions?

Revenge, plan and simple.

This is going to delve into some spoiler territory for the end of the Penacony 2.2 quest, something which I didn’t feel like mentioning earlier because I’m sorry but everyone and their mother already knows Boothill’s lore. Now, let’s get into it.

Aventurine accepts Jades offer to join the IPC, and when he becomes a Stoneheart, the first thing he asks about is the fate of the Avgin, to which he then learns that besides him, they are all dead. You see, from birth Kakavasha was pushed onto a pedestal as the savior of the Avgin, but now that there are no more Avgin to save, his primary motivator in becoming a Stoneheart (beyond not being enslaved anymore) is gone.

So what does he do now?

Simple, try to kill the motherfuckers behind it.

That’s why he takes on such risky gambles still, and why he wagers and wants Diamond to promote him to rank p46. The higher Aventurine gets the closer he gets to his goal of taking down the IPC for good.

Which is why his meeting with Boothill is so meaningful. I think Boothill is going to “kidnap” him and together they are gonna take down the wicked bitch that is Oswaldo Schneider for his literal crimes against humanity.

Mark my words, an IPC downfall is going to happen, and I think Topaz, Aventurine, Boothill and Ratio are going to be at the forefront of it.

However, Topaz and Ratio (and by extension the rest of the galaxy) have to learn/realize the true horrors of the IPC (although I can sense Ratio doesn’t really like them, and he’s learned a lot from Aventurine, I doubt he knows the full extent of the situation or is in any way happy about it). Therefore? Topaz mental breakdown arc? Ratio lore? PLEASE??!? The IP3 compliment one another so well and god I can’t wait for that to come to fruition.

I really want to see a Topaz and Ratio centered story leading up to an IPC smackdown, and I think we are gonna learn a lot more about how shitty they are in the later half of 2.2 and in 2.3 when the interlude and Jades release arrive.

As for the aforementioned Jade, she’s gonna need a Aventurine squared amount of trauma or reasoning behind her actions to seem in any way sympathetic, because right now she just seems like an evil bitch (in a semi good way, I will always respect the commitment to the bit) who loves her job and would make Machiavelli weep over how hard her ends are trying to justify her means.

[safination]

The Wrong Competitor

|Masterlist| Ao3| NOW WITH A PART 2: |The Actual Competitor| Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Platonic! Vox & Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, , Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, being a simp for your partner, husband! Alastor. demon! Alastor, drinking,flirting

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. There are two drinks secured around one hand. The other reaches out for a handshake. Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier. “Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shame to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively and the food and drinks are delicious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask as he sees you reaching out. Well, that won’t do. He takes the handshake intended for you, shaking Vox’s hand with a firmer grip than needed. You’re determined to enjoy yourself and Alastor prides himself on being a husband. So, he won’t cause a scene—not today at least. The handshakes last longer than handshakes should last. Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips. You tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning to his bicep to hide your scowl. TLDR: The Hazbin Hotel decides to hold a masquerade party. Despite his better judgment, Alastor invites his wife even if he’s aware of Vox’s attendance, who’s keen on competing with Alastor for his wife’s attention….If only Alastor knew how much you and Vox would gag at the idea of him flirting with you. It’s not his wife’s attention that Vox competes for. It’s not even Alastor who he’s competing with. Actually… Alastor isn’t part of the competition.

Have a little brainrot of mine. Lol just pure on crack of the silliest shit. Tell me what you guys think because I found this so fucking hilarious that I had to write it down. Anyway, have my heavily unedited brain rot. I tried a different writing voice today instead of my usual third person-second person pronoun pov, and tried like an all around pov. Update: *6/19/2024 We lost electricity at home so instead of studying, I decided to polish my un-polished crack. Everything's the same, it's just written better and I didn't add much.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor slithers out of the shadows below, stepping out from the darkness that pools underneath you. There are hundreds  of shadows to pop out of, still it’s your shadow that Alastor chooses to spring out from. There’s a smile painting his lips as he materializes. A deer mask covers half his face.

“Goodness,” you say, mirroring his smile. “What am I supposed to do when strange yet handsome Sinners pop out of my shadow without a warning.”

Alastor steps further into the light. “Handsome?”

And oh…oh.

(Oh, indeed. Alastor is wearing a tail-coat, a vest hidden underneath. Oh god he’s wearing a vest. One side of his hair slick back, allowing stray strands to flutter around the deer mask. When you run your hand across his biceps…you feel it underneath your touch—Sleeves garters.)

The smile on your lips widens, and you’re thankful that a mask covers your own face. “I’d call you handsome any day, sweetheart,” you tell him. “If it’s alright with your wife, of course. Such a charming little thing like you surely belongs to someone.”

“I think I like you better than my wife.” Alastor inches closer to press a kiss. “She never compliments me as much as you do.”

A delighted humm escapes you. “Then she’s quite the fool, for you are quite the charmer.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small laugh escaping as he smoothens some feathers that stick out your head. “You didn’t have to join me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be too busy with work to be next to you.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you gave me an invitation to Charlie’s party.” You reach out to smoothen the lines of his tail-coat, pulling on it to adjust its fit around his body. “And I’m already here, wearing a very, very, expensive dress.”

“Do you even enjoy such parties?” Alastor grabs your wrists before your hands can trail any further. “It seems your mind would rather be somewhere else.”

“There’s food and music, and I get the excuse to wear such a lovely dress.” You pull your wrist from his hold, catching his hand to intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you like it? I hope you do, considering I received it along with the invitation.”

Alastor lifts his arm, twirling you underneath to flare the skirt of the dress. “You look almost as dashing as I do.”

“Ha! And that’s precisely why I must join you, deerest.” You smack his bicep in good fun, barking out a laugh. Dear god, he’s wearing the leather sleeve garter tonight.) “With such dashing good looks, I’l fear others may try to take your attention.”

He flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

Alastor slips off the deer mask, gazing straight into you. Those eyes of his shine brighter than the stars above this Hell. He reaches out, and pulls on the ribbon that secures your own mask to your face.

There are feathers on your mask. It mimics the bird you are. Alastor inches closer, staring straight into you once there’s nothing to obstruct his view.

“That’s mine,” you say, trying to grab your mask.

Alastor shoves the deer mask on your face. The force causes you to stumble back a little. He’s such a nuisance, honestly…but …but well, his fingers brush over your feathers as he ties the ribbon on his mask. 

Strands of your feathers flow between his fingers as it lingers. Alastor presses the feathers to his mouth, brushing them with his lips. “I think our masks are a bit too on the nose,” he says, and each word caresses your feathers. “Deer masks suit you much better, and this way, I can spot you from even across the room.”

Alastor inches lower until you meet his eyes. You take the bird mask and tie the ribbon around his head, securing it on him.

There’s a feather that sticks out your head. Alastor picks it out. The stray feather gets waved around until he tucks it within the mask.

You reach out to remove the feather, but Alastor catches your wrist and presses a single kiss on the inside.

“The color of my feathers are different from the ones on the mask,” you tell him. “Come on, take it out. It sticks out a bit too much.”

“I’ll have you know that I quite like the feathers.” Alastor plays with the feather on his mask. “More importantly—tell me about your day. I want to know every second of every minute…it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“You would know all about my day if you were living at our home with me,” you tell him, crossing your arms. “You know, the home that we’ve built together for the past few decades?”

Alastor plays with the edges of your pinky before intertwining his fingers around your hand. “Or…” he begins, and presses a single kiss on the wedding ring around your finger. “I would known if you lived at the hotel…with me.”

There’s a smug smile on you. “Are you asking me to live with you?”

“Would you?”

“I would.”

“I’m still rather hesitant to involve you with the hotel…yet I found myself sending an invitation anyway.” Alastor presses a kiss on the edge of your lips, letting himself linger. 

“An invitation?”you say, faking a gasp. “That’s weird because I swore the invitation came with a dress as well. Hmmm, now I’m wondering who sent such a piece to me.”

“I found myself sending an invitation…and a dress.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “But the point still stands, it’s safer if you are at our home. It’s quiet and secure and doesn’t have a giant sign pointing straight at its door.”

“Ah yes…that,” you say. “I heard about it on the televisi—newspaper. It must be tiring to be attacked thrice in one day.”

Alastor shakes his head, pulling you into a tight hug. One hand presses on the back of your head, cradling you gently. “Just before I lose you to my job.”

You steal a kiss from him. “As if you could ever lose me.”

Music beats through the cracks of the Hazbin Hotel’s door. Alastor escorts you inside, a bird mask on his face as he runs his thumb up and down the skin of your hand. You adjust the deer mask on your face before following him deeper inside.

The door opens easily, and you walk inside, arm in arm with the Radio Demon. The fun about masquerade balls is being able to hide behind a mask.

 Except from those who really pay attention.

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. Two drinks are secured around one hand. The second reaches out for a handshake. 

Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier.

“Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shake to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively, and the food and drinks are delicious.”

Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask when he sees you reaching out to shake Vox’s hand.

Well, that just won’t do! Alastor takes the handshake intended for you, grabbing Vox’s hand before you can reach it, and shakes his hand with a firmer grip than needed.

You’re determined to enjoy yourself, and Alastor prides himself for being a Husband.  (Rosie tells him that there’s a difference between ‘a husband’ and ‘a Husband’ with one clearly better than the other.) So, Alastor won’t cause a scene—not today at least.

Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips as he shakes Alastor’s hand. It forces you to tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning into his bicep to hide a scowl.

The handshake lasts longer than handshakes should last.

Vox offers you a glass. “I brought drinks to start,” he says, keeping the second glass around his hold closer to him. “I hope I’m remembering this correctly—but you still enjoy lemony flavors, correct?”

“How delightful!” Alastor tries to take the drink intended for you.

Vox quickly retracts the drink, taking a single step backwards. “It’s for the lady.”

Alastor’s smile widens ever so slightly into a snarl.

You take the drink from Vox, smiling as lemony goodness fills your senses. Not many bartenders keep such flavors. Part of you wonders if Alastor organized the bar to keep your favorite drink in stock.

One hand trails up Alastor’s back as static emits from his skin. It snakes around until it hooks behind his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s just a quick peck of the lips, but Alastor places a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Such things are reserved in the confines of privacy, but it seems he doesn’t mind tonight.

There’s an imprint of your lipstick on his skin. It’s something you don’t bother mentioning to him

“Just before I lose you to the crowd,” you say.  “I’m sure you can’t leave your post for so long, and I’ve already kept you for far too long. Don’t worry about me—I won’t be too far from your gaze.”

Alastor presses one last kiss on your cheek before walking away.

With a scowl on his screen, Vox turns the other direction.

You trail behind him, smiling at the second untouched drink around his hand. It seems he’s also wearing a tail-coat tonight, but it doesn’t suit him as handsomely as it does for your husband.

“So, it seems you're here,” Vox tells you, that proud Overlord puff on his chest as he walks around the room. “And here I was wondering why the life in the room suddenly became dull.”

“Funny,” you say, matching his steps. “It seems you’re still pining for my husband—Will you ever give up on him?”

“Ah yes…the same husband who disappeared on your for seven years,” he says, casually swirling the second drink in his hand. “He left you once, he can leave you again.”

You take a sip of your drink, letting the taste of lemon slide down your throat even as your eye twitches from underneath the deer mask. “It’s quite hilarious to know you still remember how my husband hates lemon undertones in his drink.”

“Well, I didn’t want him choking on such unrefined tastes.”

“Is this meant for Alastor?” You grab the second glass from his hand, bringing it closer to your nose. “Whiskey. Ah… it was meant for him. What—were you too scared to give it to him?”

Vox barks out a laugh, crossing his arm. “It’s for me, actually.”

“Then drink it.”

“It’s been compromised by your stench.” Vox takes the glass and tosses it away.

From across the room, Alastor swirls his whiskey and allows his eyes to wander across the crowd. In a room full of Sinners, he can never be too careful especially when you’re involved. It’s then that his eyes catch Vox inching closer to you, and it’s then that his grip on the glass tightens.

Charlie smiles at Alastor as he doesn’t seem to be listening to her. That’s alright—it’s quite loud and drinks often tend to loosen him up. Alastor’s looking at her, but his body faces the crowd as he leans on one of the tables. It’s almost as if he’s looking out.

It’s been the same pattern for almost fifteen-minutes ever since Alastor came back with a bird mask instead of his own deer mask. Charlie would say something, and he would nod. From time to time, Alastor would glance out into the crowd in the same direction his body is facing.

“So, I had an idea to get more sponsors,” Charlie tells him, tapping the glass for her soda. “We can do a whole music number with flowers and dancing and singing, and I just thought you could be our main lead! The genre would be rap music.”

Alastor’s eyes slid to the crowd once more. “What a spectacular idea!”

Charlie follows his gaze until they land on you. Well, that certainly solved the mystery of where his deer mask went and where the bird one came from. One of the feathers on Alstor’s mask matches yours perfectly.

“Do you think we can get more TVs for the hotel?” she asks. “And I don’t mean the old ones, but the flat-screens that are about fifty-inches.”

You glance over at Alastor and Charlie when you notice their looks, and offer a small smile and a wave.

Alastor smiles back, giving you a wave as well. “Perhaps.”

“How about some digital cameras?” she says. “All of us could take a happy family portrait.”

“Of course.”

Wait-staff carry trays of different types of appetizers. Vox snatches a couple tiny platters, offering some to you. The first bite causes you to hum with delight. It’s quite delicious…but quite small. Vox offers another tiny plate to you, and it’s grabbed enthusiastically.

It’s great that Vox took more than one.

He bites into the cracker with some kind of seafood on them, humming at the taste. “You’ve aged.”

“Yes, it seems I have.” You laugh at him, shaking your head as you take another sip of your drink. “I’m quite lucky that I’m in the company of my husband to grow old with. It’s quite the treat to be able to live day to day with Alastor.”

Vox offers you a bite of the cracker.

You take it, nodding and humming with delight at the taste. “Oh, that’s quite good—here, taste this one.”

At the sight of your laughter, Alastor’s drink shatters into tiny pieces of broken glass. It shatters to the floor.

Charlies raises an eyebrow at him. It only takes a snap of her fingers for magic to work its wonders and clean the broken glass and replace his drink.

“Apologies,” Alastor says, smile widening just a fraction. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “I forgot my own strength.”

Once more, Charlie follows Alastor’s gaze until it lands on you, and once more, the glass in his hand shatters when he sees Vox inching closer to offer you some appetizers and then your laughter.

Charlie snaps her fingers and a new drink appears in his hold. “I’m going to run out of glasses eventually.”

Alastor takes a turn around the ballroom after Charlie kicks him away from the corner. It’s all he can do to call his growing ire to keep the guests happy. Afterall, it’s him who controls his emotions and not the other way around. There’s also the matter of his job.

A Sinner blocks his patch, a doll-like smile on her face. “Do you happen to be the Radio Demon?”

“In the flesh!” Alastor’s smile widens to show off the yellow in his teeth, giving a little bow.

“I wasn’t sure with the mask,” she says, motioning towards it. “My friends said they spotted you earlier with a deer mask, but it seems you’ve changed it. I quite like the feathers .... Although, the one that’s different kind of sticks out.”

A muscle in his cheek tightens. “I’m quite fond of that feather,” he says. “It means quite a lot to me, and I don’t take kindly to those who insult what is precious to me.”

“Oh…of course,” she says. “It suits you quite well.”

She points a finger towards his bowtie. It seems it’s a bit crooked. There’s a smile on her face as she reaches out her sully hands to fix it.

Alastor takes a single step back, making it a point to show it off to her that he’s doing so.

The doll-like smile on her face wobbles a little. That’s fine. Alastor always hated dolls. “Oh…um…,” she says, scrambling to recover. “There’s a stain on your lips.”

His ears flicker for a moment, but he runs his thumb across his mouth. Red stains his gloves. It’s the color of your lipstick. “It seems I do.”

“Been drinking too much wine tonight?” She offers him a handkerchief.

“No need.” Alastor takes out his own handkerchief. It has his initials carefully embroidered on them.  He goes to wipe your stain on his lips, but decides against it. “The wine they serve here is quite bland, but luckily there’s something much sweeter on the palate.”

Her smile fades into a frown when she notices the embroidery on the edges of his handkerchief.

Alastor continues to stand with a smile as she tries her best to compliment him in the smallest of ways. It’s quite nice to hear such compliments that inflate his ego.

Although… It's a bit weird.

The thrill of sudden recognition doesn’t hit as high as before. It’s just stagnant now. Praise doesn’t thrill him like they should.

Alastor allows his mind to wander, and his ego inflated to the highest degree when he imagines you standing before him instead, saying the things this random Sinner tells him. (He should figure out a way to get you to compliment him more.)

Plates of food and dozens of empty glass litter the bar table. It’s the aftermath of downing unlimited alcohol and enjoying some appetizers as insults are hurled that not even a merciful god can forgive.

Vox takes a bite of the olive and flicks the toothpick that came with his drink. It lands between your feathers.

A curse escapes your mouth as you try to dig it out. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s a party.” Vox hands you another drink. “I like the music, the drinks are unlimited, and this is quite fun.”

The drink gets downed in one gulp, and you flick the toothpick at a passing Sinner’s hair. It lands between the strands of his hair. “That’s one more point for me,” you say, pumping your fist. “Come on, TV boy—give me my point.”

Vox’s head flashes. It goes from his face to a screen with both your names on it. The number below your name increases on point before his face returns once more.

You shimmy a little dance as your point increases.

Vox makes a face, cringing at your dance. “You’re such a fucking loser.”

“Ha! His loser,” you say, sticking out your tongue.

“You’re still five points down,” he tells you, scowling as he grabs a passing drink from a waiter. “Why suggest this game if you’re not even good at it.”

You shrug, grumbling a little. “I always win against Alastor.”

“Are we not going to get in trouble?” Vox swirls the drink in his hand. “This is still a royal’s party.”

“Aren’t you an Overlord?” you say, taking another bite of a cracker. “Act like it. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to call you out.”

The music catches your attention, and it pulls your focus to the dance floor. Oh…Alastor’s dancing. His broad back puffs out as he moves across the floor with purpose and grace. There’s a charming smile on his face as he dances along the beat of the music.

That looks fun.

 It would certainly be a shame to waste such a beautiful dress by blending in with the decorations on the walls.

You turn to Vox. “Care to dance?”

Vox takes another toothpick, flicking it. It missed the Sinner’s hair. He curses while you pump your fist. “With you?” he says, making a face “Ew—no, that’s disgusting.”

“Alastor’s dancing right now,” you say. “It looks fun.”

Vox raises an eyebrow and glaces to the dance floor. A snarl appears on his lips when he notices that smug smile on the woman dancing with Alastor. “A new challenger?”

You tilt your head, and feathers slide across your face as you observe Alastor dancing. Oh, Vox’s right. There’s a woman with him right now. “Oooooh, who’s that? She’s quite the belle—smash.”

Vox turns to you, making a face. It’s quite funny to see. “Do you even know what that mean—”

“I know what I said.”

His screen shifts and paragraphs of information appear on his face. “Oh…she’s one of the daughters of the Ars Goetia.” The scowl on his face deepens as he continues watching, and he offers an arm towards you. “Come on—let’s dance. Game on, bitch.”

“Just ignore her,” you tell him. “She’s no threat to me, and I allow you to flirt with Alastor all the time.”

“That’s because I play fair,” Vox says, rolling his eyes. “We have our rules, and it creates order. This bitch doesn’t know that…and hasn’t someone ever told her—three’s a crowd.”

Once more, you turn to the dance floor. Alastor’s graceful movements catch your eyes and a delighted hum escapes your lips. His body dances with control and power. There’s awe in the woman’s face as Alastor dances with her. 

That’s alright—she’s only doing her due diligence.

Only a blind fool wouldn’t appreciate how Alastor’s hair sways with each side-step, or how his tail-coat fits handsomely across his back, or how charming his smile paints across his lips, or how the dress-pants he wears compliments how long his legs are.

Vox may be a fool but at least he isn’t blind.

“Holy fuck! Woman—get it together!” Vox points towards the dance floor, to the Sinner dancing with Alastor.

There’s a triumph in her smile. She dances with Alastor as if she won.

Vox watches your expression carefully, chuckling as a cold look steels your face despite the gentle smile. Oh, it is so on.

“Well, this just won’t do. If there’s one thing I hate—it’s those who don’t know their place,” you say, snaking your arm around Vox with a smile. “Game on, bitch.”

Vox escorts you towards the middle of the dance floor, that proud Overlord puff back on his chest. It’s quite easy to match his movements when he always was quite the talented dancer.

“Hey…,” you say, eyes twitching. “What are you doing?”

Vox’ hands hover above your skin, refusing to make contact. “I’m afraid that if I touch you, my life would turn to ruin like everything else that has had the misfortune of meeting you,” he tells you, a triumphant smile on his lips. “And you’re doing the exact same thing!”

“That’s because I’m married. It would be improper of me to be touching such a slimy Sinner.” You slam the point of your heel right on his shoe. “My apologies…it would be much easier to dance if you’re actually holding me.”

Vox steps on your toes, and you snarl at him. “You first, witch.”

“As you say whenever Velvette tells you to take a bath—no thanks.”

“The I guess you say the same thing about shampoo—”

“May I interrupt?”  There’s a wide smile on Alastor’s lips that show off the yellow in his teeth. He stands in the middle of the ballroom, not caring as others give him weird looks for blocking the path. Alastor stands proud as his hand offers itself to you.

Across the dance floor, there’s an irritated look on the woman’s face when Alastor abandoned her mid-dance. There’s a smile on your lips as you show her what real triumph looks like.

Vox smiles at him, and hands you towards your husband. “Of course.”

He takes your hand, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. A hand snakes around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. The music flows slowly across the room. It’s sweet melodies forcing you to lean your head on his chest.

Alastor squeezes your hand.

You squeeze back.

His legs slide between your as Alastor dips you low, a hand on the small of your back to support your waist. He takes the lead in this waltz, spinning and twirling your around while pressing himself as close as possible to you.

The side of his cheek, nuzzles into the crown of your feathers as you’re swayed around the ballroom.

“I’ve found myself in a bit of a corner,” you say, snaking your hand up and down his back as if to pet it. “I owe Vox two dances. You interrupted the first, but there’s still the matter of the second one.”

Alastor’s hand tightens around you, and shadows flare around the room. It causes dancing couples to instinctively take a step away. “Did he force you into a deal?”

“Not at all,” you say, nuzzling into his hold. “I lost a bet, that’s all. You know me, I get rather competitive, and got a little bored a while ago after getting my fill of food and drinks.”

 “I’ll take your place so just stay far away from him.” Alastor’s smile turns into a snarl. “Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again after this.”

You go on the tip of your toes to press a kiss. “Thank you.”

Alastor twirls you underneath his arm. “I never got to ask…,” he begins. “How do you like my outfit?”

“It suits you very well, my love,” you tell him. “In fact, I have to say that you are the most handsomest of handsome, and those pants really do you some justice.”

Alastor flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

“Should I really?”

“No…,” he says, leaning into your ear. “I want to hear more.”

The dance ends eventually, and Alastor behind you with one hand on your shoulders and the other holding you to escort you like a gentleman.

Vox greets you with a wave, another drink around his hand.

You step out of Alastor’s hold and press a hand on Vox’ shoulder to whisper into his ear. “As you dance with my husband, I want you to know that he’s taking your hand only because I allow it,” you tell him with a smile. “I want you to know that it’s only possible because of the permission I grant you.”

Vox snorts and offers a hand out for Alastor. “Understood.”

The musicians play their instruments and music once again fills the dancefloor. Sinners stay paces away as Vox and Alastor dance, especially given the threatening expression on Alastor’s face. It’s funny how Vox doesn’t seem to mind Alastor’s darkened gaze.  The irritated look on your husband's face makes you a bit guilty. Oh well, you’ll make it up to him later.

The dance ends, and both Vox and Alastor go their separate ways once more. There’s a twinkle in Vox’s eyes as he gives you a small nod of farewell. It has you shaking your head.

Alastor wipes his hands before taking your hand once more. “Let’s go.”

“Already?” you say, frowning. “We’ve only had one dance so far.”

“We can dance to your heart's content, my love…just not here,” Alastor says, fixing the straps of your dress. His hands ghost around the zipper, and it lingers there for more than a moment. “Apparently, I’ve maxed out my working days. Charlie told me it was in my contract and I have to spend them before I can go back to work at the hotel. She practically kicked me out. So, I have the next few days off.”

“That’s good.”

“Shall we go?” Alastor brings your hand closer, pressing a kiss on the ring around your finger. “Home—our home.”

“Really?” you say. “You’re going to go home with me?”

“For the next two weeks.”

Alastor watches your smile brighten as your eyes crinkle. It’s the most precious thing in this ballroom, and its radiance can light up the whole room. You spring up to hug him, squealing as you wrap your arms around his neck. The force of your hug causes him to take a couple steps back to keep from falling over. Alastor places a hand on the small of your back to steady you.

His bowtie is crooked. 

You point towards it,and reach out a hand to straighten the fabric. Alastor takes a single step forward, leaning down to allow more access. The pads of your thumb smoothen his crooked bowtie.

Vox catches your eyes and he toasts a drink in your direction.

You remove the wedding ring around your finger, slipping it over your middle finger instead. The ring and the finger are presented to Vox as you leave with Alastor’s arm around your waist.

Game on, bitch.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor whenever someone flirts with you : hiss hiss, get away from my wife. Reader whenever someone flirts with Alastor: Fucking understandable. Finally, someone with good fucking taste. This is so funny and silly. Vox and Reader are so sibling-coded that it wonderful. I love fan-fiction. I love how unserious it can be

[wttcsms]

most noble ; kento nanami.

pairing kento nanami x f!reader  word count 3.6k  synopsis your beloved knight nobly defends your honor by participating in a tourney to duel the man who insults you. he does not realize that the reward for his victory is your hand in marriage. content contains medieval royal au, knight!nanami & princess!reader, age gap (reader is 22/nanami is 29), longing!!! it's about the pining!!!, requited unrequited love, romantic tension, nanami being hopelessly in love but feeling undeserving :( author's notes omg can y'all just get ur acts together n marry each other holy shit (make me make a pt. 2, plssss)

Kento Nanami knows that he’s made a mistake, perhaps one so major that not even taking another professional role within the castle will be able to cover it up. Then again, it’s not like him leaving his post the first time around has resulted in any change. Maybe him leaving only to return back to your side once more is precisely the reason why he’s making so many mistakes.

For example, earlier this week, his fingers brushed against yours while handing you your tiara. Or, just before that, he found himself remaining only two steps behind you rather than the traditional three. And maybe he’s just paranoid, afraid that he’s being obvious and overly obnoxious in his displays of affection for you, but he did not earn the title of Head Knight of the Royal Guard for no reason. The king — your father — would not have bestowed such a prestigious title to a man who is not always proceeding with constant caution. 

To any visitor of the court, Sir Nanami is just another highly skilled knight, dedicated to protecting the princess. To Nanami, he is a lovesick fool trailing after you, failing to mask his true affections. 

No one sees through him, except for the one person who he so wishes were blind to his feelings. 

Easily excitable and sweetly endearing, you are the heiress to the throne and future ruler to citizens who adore you. It’s hard not to fall for your charm or the kindness that you bestow upon anyone who comes across your path. You’re considered to be the sun that shines over the kingdom, and Nanami knows of no star that shines brighter than you. 

But behind your youthful exuberance and seemingly carefree attitude is a highly perceptive young lady of the court. With your cheery smiles and laughter that seems to flow so easily and rings through the halls of the castle, it is easy to forget that one day, you will be queen, and that you have been raised your whole life to fulfill your royal duty. 

It is easy to remember this fact when you’re sitting atop your throne, staring down at him as he kneels. 

“You regret it,” you say, absentmindedly tracing the intricate designs carved onto the handles of your seat. You still haven’t learned how to stop moving your hands every time you’re nervous. It’s your only tell; for as well as you can read Nanami, he can read you even better. Your anxiety only causes him to tighten his jaw, his eyes focused on the lower half of your face because this is all his role allows him to do. He should not dare to look Her Royal Highness in the eyes; not at his lowly level in comparison to you.

You frown at his silence, knowing that he’s doing it to raise the barrier between you two. Four years ago, he hadn’t tried to shut you out so firmly, and every day since then, you have spent all your free time wondering why he wants nothing to do with you. 

The it you’re referring to could be many different things. “It” could possibly be him leaving his station as your personal knight in order to become one of the king’s advisors. “It” could also be referring to him returning to be your knight. Or maybe you’re talking about the kiss the two of you shared a fortnight before he decided to stop being your royal guard. The kiss that lingers on his lips, even to this day. He doesn’t even have to think hard enough to remember the wonderful feeling of your soft lips pressed against his own, or that saccharine taste of yours that is yours alone; no fruit, no candy, nothing has ever been able to mimic your sweetness. The kiss that never should have been. The kiss, the kiss, the kiss.

Maybe “it” is none of that, or maybe it’s all of the above. He knows you, and you’re not going to clarify because you believe that Nanami is a mindreader, and for the most part, he is. He knows what gowns you favor, and when you’re sleepy during court meetings, and he knows what order you’re going to eat the food on your plate. He knows where you go when you want to be alone (to the horse stables, to be with your beloved mare), and what your favorite tiara looks like, and that you snort when you laugh (but only ever in the presence of those you are truly comfortable with; only ever in the presence of him). 

He does not, however, know about his place in your heart. 

You wonder if he’s forcing himself to be unaware of your feelings for him. Sometimes, in the corner of your eyes and in your shadow that he follows, you catch him staring at you longingly, hopefully. With a type of reverence that differs from the one grateful citizens show you. This one feels… intimate. A look meant to be shared only with lovers. 

Lovers.

You had toyed with the idea four years ago, when you were eighteen and bright-eyed and much too hopeful for your own good. You craved romance and passion, and whichever suitor you came across, you always found them to be lacking, none of them comparing to Sir Nanami. And you knew, with girlish glee, that it is Nanami that you want. And then came that fateful afternoon in the gardens where you kissed him, and you swore that flowers started blooming on the bushes as a result. The birds were singing, and the sun was shining much brighter than ever, and you felt weightless. As if the inevitability of having to rule a kingdom was no longer a point of stress, and the burdens of your royal duty slipped from your shoulders and melted into the dewy grass beneath you. All that existed, for that brief second of bliss, was you and Nanami.  

And then, two weeks later, he resigned and decided to work for your father. 

His return had come as a surprise to you. During the years he stopped being your knight, you saw him only once a week, if the fates decided to bless you. For the most part, you’ve grown accustomed to only seeing his broad back or a flash of blond hair passing you by in the corridor. You wonder if he knows that he’s your first kiss — your only kiss. Surely he must. He’s spent a good portion of his life ensuring that your virtue was to never be tainted. 

“I do not know what you speak of, My Lady.” He says. He speaks so little to you now that you savor the sound of his deep baritone, the smoothness of how words seem to glide off his tongue. Nanami takes something so mundane as talking and turns it into an art. 

“You regret the duel.” 

And here lies the grand mistake that Nanami cannot figure out how to fix. He believes that being cold to you will perhaps dissuade anyone from assuming how closely he holds you to his heart (his act of emotional indifference towards you is so convincing, even you sometimes believe it), but he’s only human. He is a slave to his emotions — the utterly irrational ones, the ones that make him act a fool — as all men are. 

Nanami hadn’t intended on participating in the tourney. He’s nearing twenty-nine, after all. He’s reached the highest status any knight could possibly aspire to, and he no longer is a squire from a commoner family with something to prove. Tourneys are a thing of the past, a memory from his boyhood. 

But there are visitors from all sorts of lands who came down for this royal celebration. A lowly lord from a kingdom ruled by Mahito is precisely the type of scum that does a disservice to all men. Crass, vulgar, and entirely immature, Lord Shigemo has a dastardly reputation for never keeping his disgusting comments or filthy hands to himself. And while it was not his touch that threatened your very virtue, it was the perverted proclamations he kept declaring that had Nanami seeing red. 

“She’s a bit old for my liking, but I still bet her maidenhood is ripe enough for the taking. I’d love to see her bleed all over my cock.” Lord Shigemo snickers as he loudly announces this, his beady eyes staring right at you. He’s smart enough to not say your name, lest his head end up on a stake outside your father’s castle, but he’s dumb enough to not heed the warnings he’s been told. 

The princess is protected by the bravest of all knights, and the most honorable of all gentlemen. 

For that comment alone, Nanami is ready to unsheathe his sword and behead Shigemo, but he knows he cannot. There has been no direct threat to you, and Nanami has just enough restraint to remember that his anger cannot get the best of him. He is not to harm visitors to the kingdom, no matter how deserving of punishment they are, because maintaining peace between the lands is of the utmost importance. 

But the way your body stiffens and the almost sickly pallor of your face that occur as a result of Lord Shigemo’s verbal transgression is enough to have Nanami pledge his participation in the dueling tourney. He signs his name in the same competition bracket as Shigemo’s, and you’re pleasantly surprised when Nanami kneels down, asking for your favor and a blessing as he goes to represent your family. 

“And what has made you so keen on dueling now, hmm? Why, King Gojo has spent the better half of today trying to goad you into jousting with his knight.” You’re teasing him, eyes sparkling, your gibe gentle and without malicious intent.

You’re not trying to convince Nanami to not partake in the tournament. In fact, you take secret pleasure in watching his swordsmanship, even going out of your way to sneak into the training grounds and watch as he practices moves you’re certain he’s already perfected. For a man with so much muscle mass, he moves swiftly and with a sharp, quick precision that does not befit his firm build. 

“It is to defend my lady’s honor.” He curses himself for being so forthright with his intentions. He could have told you that it was to honor your family, and it would not have been a lie, but it wouldn’t have been said with the same strong conviction he speaks with now. It is not the king or any of your cousins that he is fighting for; it is just you, only you. 

Removing the brooch from your gown, you attach it to the cloth of his shirt that is soon to be covered by armor. It’s a dark blue gem, matching the color your house favors. 

“My most noble of all protectors. You have my favor, then, and all my prayers.” As you always do is the real ending to your sentence, but you fear that if you reveal too much, then Nanami will not be able to focus and give this tourney his all. You wonder if you should reveal the prize for winning, but decide against it at the last minute when he dares to look at you, a glimmer of the same affection from four years ago shining in his dark eyes. It’s a similar look to the one he gave you before your lips met his. 

The urge to kiss him again rises, your heart thumping against your chest, but all you allow yourself to do is smile at him.

The tourney itself is a quick event. Usually, it lasts far longer than the hour it takes up, and the gambling a tense, exciting affair. With Nanami entering at the last minute, most gamblers changed their bets to go all in on him winning, and for a good reason. He makes quick work of every opponent unfortunate enough to be paired with him, and the only time Nanami truly takes his sweet time is when he comes face to face with an anxious Lord Shigemo. 

Even toying with him doesn’t give Nanami much pleasure. Shigemo is a weak opponent, a poorly trained fighter, and a pitiful excuse of a man. Tired of his time being wasted, Nanami has the man shaking underneath the sharp point of his sword within seconds after deciding he is done playing these games. Even after being declared the winner of the whole tourney, an outcome he isn’t surprised at, he doesn’t feel any satisfaction. Flowers and handkerchiefs are being thrown at him as a show of respect and celebration, but only when he looks up into the crowd, his eyes focusing on your smiling visage, does he feel an ounce of pure happiness.

Before he can climb the steps leading to the showbox that houses all the prominent royal families, one of the tourney competitors stops to congratulate Nanami. 

“Lucky bastard.” It’s Naoya Zenin, Crown Prince of the neighboring kingdom. Nanami is glad he was not competing in the same bracket as the prince; not because of a difference in skill, but because wounding a Zenin’s pride was considered treason to them. 

“It’s just flowers.” Nanami says. He doesn’t understand what Naoya’s fascination with them are, but perhaps it’s the glory of being a victor that he’s envious of.

“Don’t be a fool.” Naoya scoffs. “We all know the real prize that every damn man was trying to claim.” 

Nanami is still confused. Of course, Naoya talks incessantly and most of the time, Nanami does not care what the Zenin heir has to say, but he did notice that there were far more competitors signing up for the tourney than previous years. Is there a monetary reward no one told him about? 

“So, how much for you to forfeit?” Naoya asks, completely unaware of Nanami's ignorance. 

“Pardon?”

He rolls his eyes, as if Nanami is some type of undomesticated animal, untrained to following commands. Nanami wishes he had been placed in the same bracket as Naoya now, treason charges be damned. 

“Never mind, then. I’m sure the princess herself will just make an announcement rescinding the reward.” Naoya smirks at the thought of that, and Nanami struggles to fight the urge to demand the prince stop being so cryptic and to just explain what the hell he’s rambling on about. Rescind what reward? 

A familiar head of pink hair pops up by his side, and Nanami immediately recognizes his young student. Eager Yuuji Itadori is smiling widely, happy for his teacher, and for once, Nanami is grateful that young Itadori does not know how to beat around the bush.

“Wow, congratulations, Sir Nanami! I had no idea that you wanted to marry Princess [Name]! Will you still be able to train me as Prince Consort?” 

Nanami’s blood runs cold. Oblivious to his mentor’s sudden anguish, Yuuji continues on. 

“Her Royal Highness was so kind to open the competition for her hand to any class. Of course, some people dared to criticize her and claim it’s because she’s becoming too old to be a maiden so she had to cast a wide net, but I know plenty of ladies who are unwed in their twenties. Will you still be her knight as her husband, or will that role have to go to someone else? Say, Sir Nanami, are you feeling alright?” 

You’re beaming with pride at your beloved knight’s victory, yet nervousness at watching him interact with Prince Naoya started creeping in. You start to relax when the Zenin heir walks off, but your peace of mind shatters when you watch Sir Itadori engage in conversation with Nanami. You watch his facial expression tighten, his body tense up, and you realize that Nanami knows. He knows that he has a right to be betrothed to you, and it dawns on you, from his poor reaction, that this is not the outcome he wanted. 

Which leaves the two of you here, alone in your throne room. Your father had found your idea of a tournament for your hand in marriage to be a silly one, but he had indulged you because you promised to be betrothed to someone at the end of it. By standards of the court, you’re much too old at twenty-two to remain unwed. 

You’ve been plotting ways to get Nanami to participate, even daring to consider commanding him to do so, but never has being a victim to malicious comments ever been as beneficial as it has today. Nanami signed up for the tourney by his own will! His words ring in your ear, looping incessantly as you watch him fight.

It is to defend my lady’s honor.

He does not know the effect that title has on you, at least when it’s coming from him. My lady. His. 

“If the idea of marrying me causes you so much ire, I will call off the betrothal at once and relieve you from your knightly duties, as well.” You do not want to do such a thing, but… You love Nanami. You love him so much that if it is your presence that pains him, you will take your leave now.

“No.” 

The word comes from somewhere deep within himself, throaty and raw, like it hurts to say it, but it had to be spoken. The fates demand it. 

“No?” You repeat, slowly, almost as if the word is something foreign to your tongue.

“Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to speak out of turn.” 

“You do not want to leave me?” You say it softly, but it’s just the two of you in this room. Every word exchanged seems to bounce around the walls, ricocheting, hitting the both of you in the face. 

“Princess, it is not a matter of my wants.” Why must you torture him so? While he knows he can never marry you, there was a second of elation that excited his soul at the prospect of being your betrothed. He’s lived a rough life, his calloused palms and hardened heart proof of it. He hasn’t allowed himself to indulge in fantasies for quite some time, but you inspire just enough hope that it stabs him in his heart. Daring to dream of the impossible is a fool’s game. 

“Ask me what I want.” You say it firmly. He obliges. 

“What is it that you want, my lady?”

“You, Kento.” 

No title, no boundaries. You have spoken his name, and that sting in his heart, the harmful side effect of his hope, grows. He dares to look up just a bit more, his eyes staring deep into your own. 

All the walls Nanami painstakingly built to separate you two threaten to crumble right before his very eyes. His battlefield tact is of no use here. Had this been any other battle, he would charge forward with his head and sword raised high. Retreat is not an option for a soldier such as himself. 

So why does he flirt with the idea of fleeing now? 

“I am not deserving.”

“It hurts me when you say that.” And you say it with such a wounded look on your soft features that Nanami knows it must be true. 

“I am not even a lord.” He’s fumbling for an excuse, anything to convince you that marrying him would be a mistake. He finds your stubbornness endearing, but he must get you to understand that you will regret marrying him.

“I have no need for a lord.” You retort, almost scoffing at the notion.

“I am seven years your senior.”

“Much better than the suitors decades older than I.” 

“You must understand that I am not the gentlest of men. I am not built for care.” The tips of his ears turn red, a giveaway to his shame and embarrassment at the fact. 

“I am not fragile.” 

Stubborn. You are much too stubborn for your own good.

“I have tainted you.” He chokes out, staring you directly in the eyes. Showing his sins to the broad daylight filtering through the stained glass windows of this room. “I have stolen a kiss meant for your husband.”

“I kissed you! You have tainted nothing, you have robbed no one!” You exclaim, shocked at his misery. 

“And now I have stolen your fate.” He continues. “You should not wish to marry a man like me, and you will only come to regret this impulsive decision of your youth if you force this betrothal.” 

“Am I forcing you, Sir?” The title seems almost like a mockery, especially after you exchanged it for his given name just minutes prior. 

There is nothing Nanami can say that will change your mind, and he realizes this. He realizes the pure selfishness of wanting you to not change your mind, but he is stubborn as well. The tension in this room wraps around the both of you, binding you two together. It’s a battle of wills, now. 

Perhaps it always has been. 

“You will regret this, my lady.” This is what he says. Inside, he begs of you, please do not regret me. 

Satisfied at seemingly having your way, you settle into your throne, leaning back. 

“So noble of you to want to save me from what you consider a dastardly fate, but I shall be the judge of that.” 

And thus, the engagement period begins.

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

���There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[eggroll-sama]

My Opinions if They Existed IRL

Rant of me manifesting the characters in my life and logically seeing and how I would feel of them. Ranting, Leander hate, shenanigans

Leander

Hate Hate HATE-

I've had terrible experiences with Leander's. I'm sorry to all the Leander fans out there, but I can't stand people like him. I relate with Vere on this one. The artificiality is aggravating.

Will make you feel understood and special, but it's just his charm. He gets off on it tbh.

The type to laugh at jokes he doesn't think is funny to feed the person's ego. His laugh is obnoxious (rich person's laugh + loud cuz he thinks louder = more genuine? No lol), too, so everyone turns to him wondering what's making him laugh sm. He's just being fake

Ah, DOES NOT know personal space. Is super touchy even with strangers and pushes their boundaries.

(More under the cut)

People pleaser, people pleaser. The type to not stand up for you when someone talks smack about you behind your back. Instead would give a polite laugh, maybe add his own opinions on you to make the shit-talker feel understood, then would steer the conversation to smthg else. Take that as you will.

Leaves you in the dark on certain things that will make him look bad. More than likely you find out through other ppl which makes you feel betrayed.

Smiles, even when he's pissed off. When you see his mask falter it's like whiplash, makes you wonder if he's ever real w you cuz he doesn't talk about his neg opinions. Only shares altruistic opinions to make himself look better.

Would not communicate when he has problem with you. Instead, he'll give you a look, no smiles, no facade, just hostility. It's annoying when you're the type to talk things out.

Competitive as hell, with friends, too. If he isn't in the center of attention than he'll get very insecure, and would go into pick-me mode so he can get compliments from others

"I'm not as good as ___, haha."

"No way, Leander, you're amazing, be more confident!"

And he will do this RIGHT in front of you, too (Day in the life of Ais dealing with Leander's jealousy)

Likes to play mediator to seem like the bigger person, but still ends up choosing sides. Your actions aren't matching your words fool.

Would also play mediator so he can get more information from both sides. More knowledge = more power = more control

On a positive note, Leander’s are very good at reading your emotions so would be more attentive to your needs. Also open-minded and would be a good companion if you want to have fun. Unfortunately the type to say yes yes to hanging out even when he’s on a tight schedule and get irritated when it wasn’t as exciting, like JUST SAY NO BITCH GAH DAMN. Prioritize urself.

When you start to distance yourself after he treats you like crap, that’s when he starts to correct himself, but it’s too late atp. Would get rlly salty when he sees you hanging out with other ppl feels like he’s being replaced

Would act friendly with you even after you're no longer close but it’s a facade :DD When he's alone he's brooding.

Kuras

Politely distant.

Kuras is the coworker that's been there longer than you have so you admire him from afar, hoping you'd be at his level one day.

Remembers your name even if you talk to him like ONCE, makes you feel special and seen in a non manipulative way.

Would remember certain things abt you that you surprised he remembers like at all.

Has the sexiest ASMR voice. It's the professional type of voice that’s very well-practiced and you just watch him on the phone not fumbling over there words like :0 They make it look so easy

Being friends with him wouldn’t be one-sided. He would plan a catch-up with you grabbing coffee. Would pay for the bill without asking.

He is a dominant person, but is often perceived as submissive bc his courtesy and gentlemanly behavior. No, no, he’s always in control. He just knows that that being kind in the face of conflict makes you the one more in control of the situation. There’s dominance in self-submission

An amazing listener. Has the ability to give advice to you without making you feel defensive on your stance.

Believes in integrity, but wouldn’t condone being “brutally honest.” Don’t weaponize your excuse of “honesty” to be a jerk towards others. Kinda hypocritical bc sometimes he sucks at being tactical with words, but he tries to understand, which is the difference from ppl that feel entitled to state their opinion in a “fighting for dominance” type of way

Stubborn lol. Stubborn in a “my way or the high way” kind of way. Needs to be convinced with logic or wouldn’t budge that his way of doing things is better. Can get tiring convincing them.

Also is very detail-oriented that every little thing needs to be analyzed before he proceeds. If you’re the type to “wing it” like me, it’ll test your patience but also their attention to detail helps out later on. He’ll hit you with the “I told you so” look

Too hard on himself. Would feel bad for being impolite over smthg minor. PLS REINFORCE HIS AWESOMENESS YOURE DOING GREAT OK.

Would remember something he’s done in the past and hate himself, it’s the catholic guilt. He knows there’s no point in remembering but he can’t help but think of how he could’ve handled something better. Overthinker.

Acts like an old man. Likes little peaceful towns with a good suburban vibes. Loves discovering little stores and Knick knacks. Also gives u gifts out of nowhere for keeping him company.

Mhin

I also know a few Mhins but I like them better than Leander’s lmao. Their quietness piques my interest and I find myself wanting to get to know them more, even if it’s one-sided and low-key an interview. They tend to be very interesting people.

If you gain their favor, than they're so caring towards you. Would seek your attention once in a blue moon like a cat. Sometimes it feels like you’re always chasing them, be it through gift-giving, reaching out, etc. Will get repetitive at times.

Their independence is admirable and partially the reason why you seek their presence so often. You don’t want them to feel lonely.

They’re passive aggressive, it’s low-key cute, but also annoying. Just say what you want to say!

They have self-conscious tendencies, be it their looks or their talents. Instead of being an annoying pick-me like Leander, they start to get more frustrated and depressed, unfortunately. Wouldn’t bring it up unless you do.

They’re also popular romantically but they NEVER realize. Tends to get teased often by people crushing on them.

Is so honest. Mhin would tell you straight what they think about you, which sucks if you have a soft-heart.

So honest, borderline an asshole. Ex. You’re losing some hair? They'd point it out. No hesitation. Very embarrassing if you're with your friends. They suck at thinking before they speak.

The type to trauma dump on you. But if they do, you’re lucky bc it means they trust you.

They are naturally attracted to kind, peaceful introverts. Mhin isn't a sociable person, so it would be a whole lot easier for them if you are also not sociable. Craves kindness and peace.

You can appreciate their quietness. They don’t talk, so their words hold more weight. Great at handling kids cuz they are scared of them.

The type to complain about smthg you did but helps you. ACTS OF SERVICE !!

Their laugh is so rare that it makes you surprised and gaping. But you love it whenever it happens.

DONT FORGET TO CALLLLLLL

[feroluce]

For some weird reason, I've always been fascinated by how wildly different Sampo operates in the Underground vs the Overworld.

Sampo is present in both places and even in official sources, he's not really counted as one side or the other- now that the theory has been confirmed in-game, he's generally just lumped in with the Masked Fools.

But there really is a big difference!

Probably the most obvious and well known instance of Sampo's...business practices *cough burglary and fraud COUGH* in the Overworld is from the Belobog Museum event. In it, you don't find out Sampo is the main culprit until near the end, because Pela has to set up a sting just to catch him in the act. And that sting is necessary all because the initial suspect they arrested, Norbert, had pretty much no idea of his partner's identity. Sampo wouldn't even speak to him face-to-face.

And whereas Sampo is normally very pleasant and friendly with the trailblazer...when he thinks he's talking to Norbert here, he straight up says that they are NOT friends. Like he really shuts that shit DOWN.

There's also an Overworld NPC, Chavez, who heads the "Dark Blue Scam Support Group." And he. Really really really does not like Sampo fjkdasjklfdj

Chavez clearly wants Sampo caught, and has literally no positive feelings about him. So. Why call it the Dark Blue Scam? Why not just out him by name? Chavez obviously doesn't give a single shit about Sampo's dignity or privacy. But he never once refers to him as "Sampo," and even the pamphlets he passes out make no mention of it. No one in the entire support group seems to know how to identify him or how to refer to him except by his hair color. If the trailblazer says his name, Chavez reacts as though he's never heard it before.

(I've seen people say this means Sampo Koski is an alias and not his real name? But Ray pointed this out, and honestly I agree; even the Fools call him Sampo, after all. I think it's just that Chavez never knew Sampo's name in the first place, and given his immense distrust, immediately assumes it's an alias.)

And then there's his characters stories, where he proceeds to pull off a heist in the Overworld while in disguise as Brughel Poisson the entire time. Literally his own stories don't mention Sampo's name even once.

So anyway, all this shows that when he's up in the Overworld working cons, Sampo is incredibly slippery and secretive about his identity. The only people who seem to know him are Pela, Serval, and Gepard. He doesn't get close to anyone else, and is even surprisingly unfriendly. Nobody knows his name. No one knows his face. He has zero qualms about backstabbing or double-crossing, and even plans for it in some cases.

Meanwhile, down in the Underground, I'm pretty sure literally the worst thing we hear of him doing is scalping tickets in front of the Fight Club. Which isn't even illegal in a lot of places (although it's certainly a dick move).

In Hook's companion quest, a vagrant miner steals Fersman's equipment and tries to sell it to Sampo. Even before the trailblazer and Hook jump in and out the vagrant as a thief, Sampo hesitates to buy it because it sounds like stolen goods, which he doesn't want any part of.

Even knowing that a geomarrow detector is rare and incredibly valuable in the mines, Sampo makes no attempt to double-cross Hook or profit off of her loss, and even tells her who to go to to get it fixed.

And my favorite example of Sampo in the Underground is the Survival Wisdom adventure mission. In it, Sampo starts up a business with Peak, another miner. And like. In wild contrast to all the cons he pulls above ground, Sampo is actually super nice and helpful here.

Just the same as with Hook's quest, Sampo talks to Peak face-to-face, with no disguises or barriers. When the trailblazer finds them, they're just in the Great Mine, no secretive meeting places. Peak knows Sampo, is familiar with him, and calls him by name. It's not even a con! There's nothing illegal going on; it really is just a business partnership. Peak is more than happy with their deal, he's even pretty enthusiastic about it, because thanks to Sampo he can now make enough money to get by while also accommodating his chronic fatigue.

The only person Sampo lies to in this whole ordeal is the trailblazer, who he manipulates into getting Peak's mining equipment back from the vagrants that stole it in the first place. And when it's done, he rewards them with a legit treasure map.

So when he's working in the Underground, Sampo is MUCH more upright and lawful. Part of this is probably to do with his "business" model- Sampo only takes advantage of the wealthy, and poverty runs rampant in the Underground. When he charges Peak an extra 30% (the same percentage he charges Norbert as a consultation fee in the museum heists- Sampo seems to go by percentage instead of a flat rate, which means his prices are more fair for lower incomes) for carelessly losing their supply, Peak literally starts counting out pocket change.

Dude's working for pennies and good will down there dknsmdmd

And you can twist this into a Robin Hood thing if you want- Sampo IS technically working to feed orphans and heal the sick. He says himself he's more than happy to make up the shortfall between the greedy and the marginalized- I mean he says it in the shadiest way possible, but I doubt the people benefiting from his work really care that he's a slimeball if it means they can survive another day. Even the two heists he pulls in his character stories are literally just him stealing absurd amounts of food.

Personally though I think it is solely because of Natasha, and Sampo is hilariously well-behaved specifically for her, because she keeps him on a short leash JSKZJMSMSKS

[creadigol]

I wanted to write a civilian story and this is what came out of my brain. I hope y’all like!

Warnings: Mentions of a violent encounter with a pretty creepy bad guy. 

The body floated, bobbed one might say, aimlessly in the expensive botanical garden’s pond. With the amount of algae in the water it was a wonder Civilian had seen the thing at all, let alone recognize the figure. 

But recognize the figure they did… and it made the horrific sight all the more terrifying. 

Civilian bit back a scream as the bloated body floated closer to them. 

Bloated…that meant the body had been in there for at least a day right? At least that’s what all those cop shows said…Civilian was a historian, not a doctor…oh god it was getting closer!

Civilian clutched their messenger bag close to their chest and backed away from the pond. Five minutes…five minutes was all it took to scar them for life. Five minutes to change everything Civilian thought they knew about their gracious hosts at the historic hotel. 

God, they were such a fool. 

They had their suspicions. Of course they did, but when  the opportunity came to stay at the very place they had spent years researching came up…there was no question. They had a sabbatical coming up anyway, where better to have it than on the actual location? 

But now…

The body was face down, but it was no question who it was, and who had done this. Villain had been threatening the Senator for months, it was all over the news. But how did Villain know the Senator was staying in this specific hotel in England? Hell, why was Civilian’s timing so terrible?! 

There was a rustling in the bushes to their right. Civilian whipped their head around hoping against hope that the sound was the normal squirrel or bird one would find in a botanical garden. 

The rustling stopping as soon as Civilian looked over. They caught a glimpse of something metallic reflecting the sun…so, not an animal then.

Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. 

Maybe Civilian could play it off as if they saw nothing? Just glance away and find the path back to the hotel where there was a cell signal and they could call for help. That was good, now they just needed to look away.

 Shit, why were they so frozen? 

They slowly edged backwards towards the tan gravel path. Civilian couldn’t help but keep looking at the bush, waiting for whoever was in there to strike. As soon as they had made it three steps a deep voice rang out from the shrubbery,

“Got somewhere to be? You only just got here.” 

Civilian turned and ran. 

They ran faster than they ever had in their life. Their feet pounded on the gravel with as much force as their heart pounded against their rib cage. In their hast they couldn’t find it in their throat to scream for help. Help from someone, anyone. 

Their running wasn’t fast enough. 

A hand grabbed the back of their messenger bag and yanked them back. Civilian choked on air as their back viciously hit the ground. A knee was on their chest and a hand over their mouth as soon as their body was down. 

“Now, now love. All I need is a little chat about what you just saw. No need to be so on edge.” The man on top of them wore a dark mask and his leather gloves smelled against Civilian’s face. The man’s silver watch periodically glinted the reflection of the sun with each spasm Civilian experienced.

They frantically tried to claw the hand off their mouth, tears already leaking from their eyes, and they kicked their legs out trying to dislodge the attacker. Their struggle, though, quickly stopped as the other hand yanked their head back by their hair at an angle which promised death if they struggled too hard. 

“None of that now,” the low voice said. A voice that Civilian did not recognize. “I don’t want to kill you yet. There’s still some things I need from you.” 

Yet.

Yet. 

The word made new panicked tears come to civilian’s eyes. Their sobs were stifled by the rank leather that gripped tighter around their mouth. 

“That’s a good one. Now, tell me, did you tell anyone where you were headed on this fine morning?” 

Civilian froze. Wide eyes staring at the two eye holes the mask provided. What should they say? What would buy them more time? They could lie and say they had told someone they were going for a walk…but would that put someone else in danger? The moment the attacker knew Civilian was alone with no travel companion they would break their neck or drown them in the pond like the senator, they were sure…

“I can tell you didn’t,” the mask lifted a bit at the edges indicating a smile beneath. “Your eyes say it all. No one knows you’re out here then, hm?” 

Civilian tried once more to push the man off, but his grip only tightened and he leaned more of his weight on his knee. Civilian’s chest ached. 

“That’s a yes. You should never play poker my friend. You have every tell in the book.” 

Civilian only cried more. 

“You and the Senator were getting pretty close last night. Anything he told you that you wish to share?” 

Pretty close? Civilian had only spoken to him for part of the evening about the hotel’s architecture. The senator had found it fascinating that Civilian could tell what year each part of the hotel was built based on the shape of the windows. It was nothing special…but that meant this masked man was at the party last night, watching them. 

Civilian was going to throw up. 

The hand eased a bit off their mouth, now just hovering over. Civilian’s choked sobs immediately sounded. 

“Come on now, just tell me what you know and this will go as smoothly as I can make it. That’s quite nice of me, isn’t it?” 

“I…” Civilian stuttered through the panic, “I…don’t know what you mean.” 

“Of course you do,” The hand gripping their hair pulled even more, causing Civilian to choke on a gasp. “I know you’re a smart one. You’ve seen the news. Did the Senator tell you anything about making a deal?” 

What? What did that even mean? They spoke about windows for fucks sake!

“No…no…we were…” They huffed out a sob that they couldn’t hold back. 

“You were what?” The hand that hovered over their mouth now clamped on their throat. Just tight enough to cause pain. 

“Windows,” Civilian cried. “We were talking about the windows.” 

“Windows?” The man questioned. 

“I…you can tell a lot about a building through its windows…I’m writing about the hotel…” 

The man interrupted them with a laugh. The hand on their hair loosened and Civilain’s head was no longer forced back. 

“Windows,” the man chuckled. “Fucking windows…and here I was worried.” 

The hand started to card through their hair in an oddly intimate gesture. 

“Sorry mate,” said the man with nonchalance. “Wrong place, wrong time I guess. Pity too, you’re sorta cute.” 

The hand on their throat suddenly clasped and Civilain’s eyes blew wide as the man leaned down and placed both hands on their neck to squeeze. 

The man put his weight onto his knee and arms, effectively cutting off all air and making any of Civilian’s struggling pointless. Still, they clawed at the hands and kicked their feet, feeling the blood rush to their head. 

No, they thought at black spots appeared before their eyes. Please, god, no.

“It’ll be over soon, love.” The man’s voice barely registered. 

Civilian felt their hands go numb and their kicking stopped as their energy drained like a bath with the stopper pulled out. 

“Yeah, it will.” 

A slash and the pressure on their neck and chest was gone. Civilian coughed and gasped as air flooded their body. 

From the corner of their eye they could make out two dark shapes struggling beside them, but through the coughing and the tears they couldn’t make out much. 

Suddenly they felt themselves being picked up and thrown over a shoulder. They make a sound of protest, despite their damaged throat. 

“Hang on, mate. I’ll get you somewhere safe.” 

Civilian knew that voice. They knew it, but their battered body could do nothing to protest. 

Civilian could only hang off the broad shoulder as Villain swept them deeper into the garden.