#anyway idk why i'm in a goofy silly mood but i guess i'm in a goofy silly mood | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

non-un-topo · 1 year

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queer quartet prompt: arm wrestling in ye olde pub 👀

fghfdsfg thank you Rae, this one was so much fun!!

“What’s happening over here?”

Having sensed Andromache’s presence far across the stuffy, dimly lit pub, Quỳnh only had to open her hand for a wooden tankard to then be placed there. She smiled in thanks, and linked her arm with Andromache’s the moment her lover exchanged hands to lift her own ale to her lips. Because if she did not lock her in, Quỳnh knew she would go running across the floor towards the growing crowd in a heartbeat.

“Oh, Athena’s tits,” Andromache sighed, as expected. Quỳnh chortled into her ale, sending foam spraying into her eye.

“I leave for a moment,” continued Andromache, “and they’ve caught the attention of the entire pub!”

Quỳnh politely did not comment on her ancient lover’s resemblance to a grouchy crone.

“You know how they get when inhibitions are lowered,” she said. She felt rather comfortable from where she stood and watched, to be honest. There was never a dull moment with their little undying troupe.

Ahead, a crowd of sweaty patrons were challenging the sticky summer heat to cram in together around a small table. As voices raised and cheered, ale splashed to the warped wooden floor around them. It was an awfully intense scene for what was going on. That was, of course, the boys — Yusuf and Nicolò — engaged in an arm wrestling match that definitely did not require that much eye contact.

Their hands were steady — they rarely ever shook — but with their left hands they each gripped the sides of the little table with such force Quỳnh honestly expected it to fly off its wobbly legs. If that be the case, she knew, they’d just continue to wrestle until one of them lost or they got… distracted.

Judging by the subtle break of eye contact as Nicolò dropped his gaze down to the wide open collar of Yusuf’s shirt and Yusuf’s eyes focused on Nicolò’s bicep under his rolled-up sleeve, Quỳnh did not expect it would take long from there.

“They’ve been holding on a while,” she praised, in any case. Naturally, given the number of years they’d both spent swinging swords around. There was really only one way to end this game quickly, hence the reason she still had Andromache’s arm trapped in her own.

“Release me,” Andromache commanded, of course.

Quỳnh snorted and tugged her closer. “Why should I? Perhaps we can ask these friendly patrons to place bets, and then we can purchase all the ale we want tonight!”

“You make a fair argument…”

“Of course I do, I carry the brains of this entire family.”

Andromache attempted to playfully stamp on her foot but Quỳnh dodged her boot with ease, taking a measured sip of her ale and exclaiming a pleased, “Aah,” at the taste.

“Tired?” Nicolò asked then, in his low voice. Oh, that tone. Perhaps this game would end sooner than Quỳnh thought. “You could always let go and end this now.”

“Never,” hissed Yusuf. Sweat poured down his temple like liquid gold in the candlelight. Quỳnh watched as he flexed his fingers, gripping Nicolò’s hand somehow tighter.

“I think they are playing the stranger game,” muttered Quỳnh, in Andromache’s ear. Andromache startled herself with a laugh, then turned it into a frustrated groan.

A man in the crowd shouted something, rooting for Yusuf it sounded like, and others joined, mugs raising over their heads. The very air about them smelled of sweat and tension.

Yusuf grinned then, showing teeth. “Sounds like you’re losing, handsome thing.” Then he winked.

With a resigned Alright, Andromache downed the last of her ale and tossed the tankard to the floor — for which Quỳnh would later scold her. After all, people did not live like barbarians anymore, Andromache. But in the moment, Quỳnh hid her shocked laugh in her mug and watched with wide eyes as Andromache stalked up to the table, sleeves rolled up to her armpits.

The crowd quieted as she loomed over the table and, after a swift glance over each of their faces, Andromache looked down at the boys and declared, “Allow me to show you what real strength looks like.”

They let go, ending the match just like that, and they both looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Yusuf raised his hands. “Now wait, Androma—”

But it was too late for him. Quỳnh sipped on as Andromache seized his hand and tensed every muscle in her body. Yusuf cried out, more of a squawk really, as Andromache slammed his hand to the table in a matter of seconds. The crowd exclaimed in shock.

As poor Yusuf rubbed his bicep and shouted very dramatically for Nicolò to flee, Nicolò stood from his chair with a wooden screech. Andromache did not spare him the same honour — instead, she simply took him by the arm and with a great, steady huff she flipped him over the table.

The silence that followed was so stark, Quỳnh could hear the delicate little tinkle of a man pissing himself across the room.

The boys scooted towards each other on the floor, a little shaken and rosy-cheeked. Quỳnh simply finished the last of her ale and nodded to herself, accepting the craziness of her little family.

Affectionately, and certainly out of place to the patrons watching but perfectly in place to Quỳnh’s eyes, Andromache ruffled the boys’ hair. She raised her hands then, speaking to the crowd,

“Drinks are on me!”

#sage writes #tog #the old guard #ficlet #the old gays #don't! draw! attention to yourselves boys!!#i hope i didn't make andy too mean sdfgfd sometimes she has to lay the rules down but she loves them #anyway idk why i'm in a goofy silly mood but i guess i'm in a goofy silly mood #you KNOW how to access that part of my brain with the queer quartet and old pubs/taverns #absolute tomfoolery the lot of them

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theafrochick · 10 months

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my red flag is I'll wake up and be hurtled into a silly goofy mood so i write shit like this to cope. I like the idea of putting this in the long fic im deluding myself into thinking I'm going to write but for now have a snippet i guess since it'd feel weird posting this on ao3? idk.

we love stolas having a mental breakdown. and we also love asmodeus being along for the ride cus Asmodeus playing bob the builder with Stolas would fulfill all my needs in life actually.

something something projection and copium

Anyway

Pairing is: stolas & asmodeus. hurt/comfort

Word count: 2,741

I got sick of writing this lmao ignore the ending.

“What else is this supposed to be about then? I don’t know why we keep doing this when you found somebody else’s dick to hop on.”

“W-what on earth are you talking about?” Anxiety stabbed into you as you hug your grimoire to your chest. This was supposed to be a conversation. This was supposed to fix everything and instead if was devolving faster than you could have dreamed.

“Don’t play dumb Stolas, you and Asmodeus are plastered across every tabloid this side of hell. At least have the balls to admit that you’re just keeping me around as a side piece.”

“No, no, Blitzy it’s not like that. We’re friends! I’m doing him a favor, I would never do something like that. What do you take me for?” Blitz takes a step back when you try to approach him, an unfamiliar look of disdain crossing his features. A knot settles in your chest as you felt yourself shrink before him.

You knew you were a hypocrite for wanting him to believe that you wouldn’t cheat considering your relationship was a product of an affair, but you assumed his jealousy would be resolved when he realized Asmodeus was in a very committed relationship of his own. Clearly that wasn’t enough but you weren’t sure what else you could do for him. It felt like it didn’t matter at the end of the day. You had done for this him but he would never believe you if you actually said that. Or it’d somehow add more fuel to this never ending fire.

“I don’t see what kind of favor you needed him that involves you needing to hang all over him. If its about that stupid necklace you gave me so you wouldn’t have to see me anymore then consider the hint taken. You didn’t have to whore yourself out to get away from me.”

“I didn’t- I’m not- Please just listen to me, I only gave you that because-” You try to approach again. Blitz takes several steps back, folding his arms over his chest. Whatever faint connection you had to him snapped in that moment. The fact that there wasn’t anything to try and fix hit you like a truck and you the desire to cling to the vast nothing you had been given evaporated. You didn’t want to fight anymore. You were so tired of it. You suck in a breath, forcing yourself to straighten. Forcing yourself to not reach for him again even though a small part of you still wanted to. “Fine. If that’s how you feel then we can consider this the conclusion of any business we might have with one another. This 14th or any other are yours for the taking.”

You suck in another breath, then turn and take the stairs back into your house at a measured pace. In the resulting silence, filled by the bubbling of the fountain in the courtyard, you hoped that he wouldn’t actually let you walk away. But then the van door opened and closed. You opened the door to the foyer. The engine starts and fades just as quickly. You close the door, the click of the latch echoing through your head.

You’re fine. It’s okay. This is okay.

You feebly tried to placate yourself as you made your way through the house to put your grimoire away. If you didn’t it’d leave room for everything else to take root and even if you were pathetic, you refused to cry yourself to sleep on the entryway floor. This wasn’t the first time you just had to keep it together for a little while. What a handful of minutes compared to the other countless hours you had spent hiding from yourself.

But the grimoire never made it back to its place, because you were used to not having it. Because you had put a new book in its place. Because that book didn’t even fit well in your organization scheme but the blank space hurt to look at when you missed Blitz. Because you could handle the slight annoyance that it was in the wrong spot than look at that hole. Because if you moved that book to put your grimoire away then you’d have to find a new place for the wrong book. Because you didn’t have a place for it in the first place. Because then you’d end up reorganizing the mountain of books you had. Because after all that nothing would be the same. Because then you’d have to change. Because then you’d have to clean yourself. Because then you’d probably have to eat something. Because then you’d have to go to bed. Because then you’d have to wake up and grapple with the fact that you were as alone as you had felt your whole life.

Your knees give out and you curl into yourself. Between the sobs racking your body and the waves of anxiety that kept crashing over you you could barely breathe. Why is it always my fault?

How much more were you expected to give? You buried everything you wanted to the sake of others. You worried yourself sick. You overthought everything. You tarnished your birthright. You threw away whatever reputation you had t hat wasn’t trampled on by Stella. You couldn’t dig any deeper. There wasn’t any place you could hide from yourself anymore. You had nothing left and nothing to show for it. How was it still your fault that things ended up this way?

The vague burning sensation in your skin left behind from the feathers you hadn’t meant to rip out wasn’t enough to keep you grounded. And then more intentionally thinking that might leave you with something to grab onto as your magic misfired and bled into the room. Ichor seeped out of walls and pooled on the floor around you. The sound of cracking stone could scare be heard about the sound of your heart pounding in your aching chest. You’re making a mess, pull yourself together. This is unbecoming.

Normally a few sobering thoughts were enough for you to reign it in. To get some semblance of a grip on yourself and put yourself back together.

Not now. What was the point? You could stay there for as long as you wanted because nobody would care enough to come check on you. You could destroy the whole mansion and the only person who’d have to deal with it was you. This could just be another thing to add to the long list of things you couldn’t do right. Can’t be a prince. Can’t be a husband. Can’t be a father. Can’t be a boyfriend. Can’t be a boyfriend. Can’t take care of yourself. Can’t be left alone.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your nails graze your skin before everything went silent.

“What the fuck...?”

You blink back into consciousness, cold from the ichor that had soaked into your clothes. Your head hurt, and your vision blurred. The tightness in your chest had subsided enough that you could at least breathe again. Maybe. Fresh anxiety wormed it’s way into you as Asmodeus cautiously pads over to you.

“Stolas, are you alright? What happened?”

You shove yourself into a sitting position, black spots dancing in your vision. A nervous laugh escapes you as you clap your hands together. “Oh, I was just...working on a spell.” Another nervous laugh. You set your soaked grimoire on the window seat, praying it was still legible. You could barely convince yourself that was an excuse let alone Asmodeus. Not when he was privy to everything that was going on and didn’t know how to let anything go. Not when you had unintentionally placed him in the middle of all of this.

“Wanna run that one by me again?” Asmodeus crouches in front of you, his head cocked earnestly to the side as he studies you.

“Just practicing…” You couldn’t bear to look at him as you forced the words out. Your stomach churned and your throat clenched. You weren’t sure if you were going to throw up or start crying again. Or both. “I’m fine, really. Do tell why you’re here.”

Asmodeus exhales sharply, resting his hand on the side of your face. He works his fingertips through your feathers to graze his claws against your skin. A tremor runs through you as the heat from his palm seeps into you. He always did run hot.

You fought the urge to sink into him, tension settling in your back as you sat a little straighter. “Really, I’ve just been out of practice so I thought it’d be good to reacquaint myself with some of the spells in the back of the book only I got distracted and it backfired a little. Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure I did worse when I was younger. Haven’t we all?”

You weren’t sure what you were going on about as the room groaned and shifted around you. But saying nothing of any real substance was easier than sitting there in silence, trying not to look at him. This display was shameful, even if it was supposed to be private. Nothing was ever private. One way or another others always managed to wiggle their way in. If you said you fine eventually you’d mean it again and then things could go back to normal.

The chandelier gives from the added weight of the petrification and rips itself free of the ceiling. Asmodeus starts, whipping his head around to look at the pile of stone and plaster sitting on the floor. “Stolas…” He edges closer to you, cupping your face with his hands. “Don’t lie to me. It’s one thing if you want to be alone to work through whatever the fuck this is, but nobody who knows you and has half a brain would believe you’re fine right now.” He chose his words carefully, his drawl being the only thing that stopped an actual pause from forming.

You wring your hands together in your lap. For a moment you were a child being scolded for getting upset and all you could do was bear it. What good would admitting to anything do? If you did then it’d make this more real than it already was. So this was just another thing you could do. Pretend. Not anymore. You had felt the mask slipping for some time now but you never thought the day would come where you actually couldn’t put it back on. “It’d be a waste for you to worry about me when this whole thing is my fault.”

“I have a very hard time believing that.”

You shrug helplessly, pulling your face from his hands. “It always is… Things never should have gotten this far. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t that’s the problem. I never think. None of this ever would have happened if I just did what I was supposed to, but I never do. I can’t do anything right.” You suck in a breath, batting his hands away when he reaches for you. “Sorry, that was rather uncalled for. You should just go.”

“Do you mean that?”

Of course not.

You wipe your face on your sleeve, undoubtedly smearing black on the side of your face. “It’s for the best.”

You tense when Asmodeus pulls you into his lap. You couldn’t manage to protest as he wraps himself around you. “It’ll be okay, Stolas, you’ll make it through this.”

For a moment you could breathe. Your mind goes blank for an instant before everything comes rushing back to the surface again. It hurt, and you were certain that you wouldn’t be okay. You had never been okay. How were you supposed to start now?

“There, there, let it all out.”

You whimper softly, burying your face in Asmodeus neck while he gently rocks you. You always liked how unnaturally warm he was. When given the chance it was hard not to drift to his side whether it was warranted or not. The sickly sweet smell that clung to him usually assaulted your senses and relaxed you but now it just mingled with your shame and made you too acutely aware of the situation you were presently in.

Getting a handle on yourself felt more a priority than working through whatever this was supposed to be. You needed out of this. You needed Asmodeus to feel like he had gotten what he wanted so he could continue on. You couldn’t get used to this. You couldn’t start to depend on him. He wasn’t yours to need. Nobody was. You were too old to be throwing a tantrum because you couldn’t get what you wanted. That’s what this boiled down to wasn’t it? Once again you expected too much. It was your own fault for getting your hopes up. How could you end up surprised you were here? This had been coming for months and you should have accepted this then. You should have taken the inevitable with grace. Especially when you left him with everything he wanted. He’d never think about you again while you stupidly clung to things that only ever mattered to you.

Was that it? Was everyone always placating you because it was easier than dealing with this? Maybe you were unreasonable. Asmodeus was only here because you hadn’t said the right things. If you were a little stronger you’d be cleaning. And you’d move that stupid book someplace else. Or throw it away because you didn’t even need it, it was just the first one you saw. What was it even called? To think you fell apart over something that normally didn’t occupy an ounce of head space. I’m hopeless.

You blink a few times, abruptly all too aware of your body pressed against Asmodeus’. Of his steady breathing. Of his heart thudding in his chest. You had enough sense to be embarrassed without a twinge of anxiety so you had to confront the fact that you had to actually start picking up the pieces of whatever Blitz had broken inside of you countless times. There probably wasn’t even anything left at this point, but trying was really your only option when Asmodeus certainly wasn’t going to let you go back to tearing yourself and your house apart.

For now, you were mostly tired, and if you stayed like this any longer the idea of sleeping on his chest would have been tempting. Though this raised the question of you needing to get out of this and you were no closer to a solution than when the question was first posed. “Uhm...Asmodeus?”

“Yes, Stolas?” Asmodeus shifts you a little higher, nuzzling your neck.

“You may put me down, if you want.”

Asmodeus studies you for a moment. While the scrutiny still made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t nearly as unbearable as before. He seemed satisfied that you weren’t still spiraling out of control and eased you back onto the floor. You brace yourself on his shoulder and stand, a headache forming at your temples. “Why don’t you come stay with me tonight?”

“No, no I couldn’t possibly do that. It’s alright. This is a big place. There are other beds.”

Asmodeus hauls himself off the floor, momentarily distracted by the puddle off ooze he had put his hand in. “I also have other beds. Ones that aren’t covered in freaky black jizz. Besides, you need a bath and I know you aren’t going to take one. You’re probably not even going to change either and that look on your face says it all.” Asmodeus cuts you off, “girl you need to get a grip. I’m all for spending all day in bed, but at least do it in a clean one.”

You sigh, not really having the energy to argue with him. “I really wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“I have servants for a reason, only people you’re putting out are on payroll. Though word of advice,” he snaps his fingers, opening a portal into a very pink bathroom, “don’t let Froggy make your breakfast. He’ll do it because he knows you’re too nice to say no, and I think you’ve suffered enough for one week.”

“I’m not-” The protest died on your lips as you stepped into the bright light. You were already missing your room before the portal had closed. “Fizzarolli thinks I’m nice?”

“How could anybody think otherwise?”

#helluva boss #fanfic #stolas #asmodeus #my writing

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