#before eventually releasing them without charging them with anything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlelovelyra · 6 months ago

Text

Now is not the time, nor the place.

Gale x FemTav/Reader(f)

Word count: ~1,914

Warnings: fluff(?) , Fingering, hand jobs, mouth stuff, kinda? C*m shot?

MINORS DNI

Disclaimer: I literally always put a disclaimer that I am by no means a writer, I just day dream a lot to escape my hectic work days and my somewhat chaotic life so I write down my day dreams and revisit them sometimes. Decided to publish them here so its easy for me to find. If it at least entertain one person thats a win for me :'D

Summary:

Having arrived at Last Light Inn several hours ago, your party convened and, following a discussion with Jaheira, reached a consensus to divide the patrol duties to ease the burden. Prior to this decision, after battling Kar'Niss,Gale openly confessed his physical attraction toward you only to immediately extinguish any flame that thought may have produced. Now, as chance would have it, both of you find yourselves on duty, strolling along the docks of Last Light Inn, having determined your partners through a draw of names. Suspicious.

___________________________

“Now’s not the time nor place.” What. The. Fuck. Gale. Why even bother saying it at all? You curse the foolish wizard in your mind, focusing on the two small pouches placed in the middle of the table where you and your companions are seated, trying not to shoot daggers in his direction. You can feel his side glances as he looks at you.

“Well, as much as I love us sitting around and staring at one another—because who wouldn’t want to stare at me—who’s going to be the first to draw a name?” Astarion looks around the table, taking us all in. We’re all looking pretty tired, and no one wants to take the leap, fearing they might draw “first watch” from the second pouch after selecting their partner from the first.

“Oh gods above, fine, I’ll do it.” Astarion reaches his hand into the first pouch, retrieves a name, and then dips his hand into the second, pulling out a small piece of parchment. He clears his throat. “Well, Shadowheart, I guess you and I are taking tomorrow’s watch,” he says as a slow smirk spreads across his face. Lucky bastard, you think to yourself. As everyone else gathers the courage to draw, the order goes as follows:

Astarion / Shadowheart: Second Night

Karlach / Wyll: Third Night

Lae’Zel / Halsin: Fourth Night

You curse under your breath at the absolute joke that is your luck right now. Though, you feel luck might not have anything to do with it. You suspect Gale has somehow played his magic hand in this. You can practically feel his smugness vibrating across the table from you. As much as you care for him, these past few weeks have been confusing. From his reaction to the moment you shared in the Weave, to his dismissal at the tiefling party when you sought him out. He told you to go “enjoy the festivities,” which led you to a pretty little clearing with a vampire spawn—an experience you note never to repeat. Then, just before entering the Shadow-Cursed Lands, he received his charge from Mystra and accepted it without considering anyone else. To top it all off, he basically admitted his attraction to you and immediately shot it down. All this hot and cold behaviour has been giving you more headaches than the damn tadpole in your head.

Releasing a soft sigh, you push yourself back from the table and stand up, eventually meeting his gaze. “Come on, Gale, we’re up first. Jaheira has assigned us to the dockside for our patrol.” You keep your tone cool and matter-of-fact. You will not make a fool of yourself chasing someone who clearly does not want to be chased. With all the chaos of dealing with the cultists, you have no time or energy for these petty games of the heart. He either wants you or he doesn’t, and it seems it’s the latter.

Gale follows you as you walk towards your quarters. As you reach your door, you look back at him. “Wait here, I need to change. These clothes are disgusting after killing that drider. I won’t be long. Maybe you should change too—it’s going to be a long night. Meet me back here in ten minutes.” Pressing your lips together awkwardly, you watch him hold your stare for a moment before giving a slight nod. He turns on his heel and heads toward the shared quarters. You’re grateful that your companions graciously agreed to give you the only private room in the Last Light Inn; gods know you need a bit of privacy to collect your thoughts.

In your room, you quickly change out of your clothes, wipe yourself down with a washcloth, redress, and braid your hair back. Looking in the mirror, you can see how tired you are from the journey. Closing your eyes, you mutter a short prayer to Selûne for the strength to get through the evening. A soft knock at the door catches your attention, and you cross the room to open it. Gale stands there with a fresh set of clothes, his hair now tamed, and even a bit of his beard trimmed. His eyes are as bright as ever, always seeming deep in thought, making you wonder what’s going on in his mind. “Stop it”, you think to yourself, “Now is not the time.”

You usher him out of the doorway and lead the way outside, down to the docks. You notice how close he is walking next to you, the silence is loud but every now and then his hand accidentally brushes up against yours and sends a soft shiver running up your arm. Again you wonder if he is using any magic to conjure up that effect on you.

Walking to the edge of the dock, you scan the perimeter. Everything is quiet; it all seems as it should. You lean over the railing and glance at your reflection in the water, exhaling loudly. You stay there for a moment with your eyes shut, taking in the sounds of the flames softly flickering on the nearby torches and the occasional gentle splash of the water. It’s the most peaceful you’ve felt in a long time.

“Lost in thought?” Gale says as he places himself next to you, leaning down with his arms supporting him on the railing. You turn your head to face him and notice that his face is mere inches from yours. You linger there for a moment, your eyes scanning his face and finally your gaze falls to his lips, you wonder how they would feel pressed against yours. He catches your stare and the left side of his mouth pulls up into a soft smirk.

“Actually, I’m not thinking at all.” You say pushing yourself up you ready yourself to leave this side of the dock and continue your sweep of the area. As you turn to leave, Gale grabs your hand. You turn to him puzzled.

“Let’s stay a moment longer, shall we? It’s quiet, and nothing will happen if we take a few selfish moments for ourselves.” His thumb traces lazy circles on the back of your hand, releasing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. You watch his gentle movements, marvelling at how hands so powerful can also be so tender. Your thoughts drift to how those very same hands might feel exploring your body, familiarising themselves with your secret places while bringing you to complete ecstasy. Your cheeks begin to flush at the mental image you have painted for yourself and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by him as he offers a soft clearing of his throat to pull your attention back to reality.

“I meant every word I said, by the way.” He looks at you, expecting a response, but you're unsure what to say. Words elude you, so you remain silent, hoping he'll continue—and he does, simply because he’s Gale.

“I have never wanted you more than I do now. Seeing your cheeks flush just then only made my desire that much more uncontrollable. I keep waiting for the right moment to kiss you, to show you how much I want you. It has to be perfect—you deserve that. But perhaps, just for tonight, we can allow ourselves a bit of imperfection. Or an appetiser before the main course, if you will.”

He raises his hand and gently lifts your face towards his. Slowly, he lowers his lips to yours, tenderly moulding them to fit around yours. A soft whimper escapes your mouth, and you feel your knees shake as if they're about to give way to this moment. Sensing your thoughts, Gale places his other hand on your hip, steadying you and pulling you closer to him. Everything around you seems to disappear, and all that exists in this moment are the two of you, completely lost in each other's embrace.

As he starts to pull away, he leads you to the covered area of the dock—more private, secluded—and you see the intent in his stare. Slow he brings the two of you down onto the deck, gently he lowers you to your back while he positions himself above you. His lips come crashing down to yours once again but this time with urgency. He uses his free hand to roam its way under your clothes exploring your soft curves and taking his time familiarising himself with the shape of you. He delicately rubs the pad of his thumb over your peaked sensitive nipple which causes you to gasp at the sensation, heat pooling in your core. You shift your hips up towards him instinctively and he groans into your mouth while your tongues dance together. His hand slithering down, snaking its way to your heated centre. Slipping under your panties his fingers slide between your folds, you inhale sharply at the sensation. Gods above nothing in your fantasies even compare to what this feels like in real time. Gale lets out a low groan. “Mhm. You are so ready for me my love. I want that to be perfect so this will just have to do for now.” as he finishes his sentence he slides two of his fingers inside you and curls them upward. Slowly pumping them in and out while his kisses become frenzied.

Your hands go exploring on their own and you find him, hard and ready. You can feel it pulsing through his trousers. The growl that escapes his lips is inviting enough for you, reaching in as you pull his length out and begin stroking him tenderly at first and then more desperately as you feel him rocking his hips in time with your hand. His hand is still working inside you and the two of you become desperate as the pace picks up. You lift your shirt up exposing your breasts with your spare hand and he brings his head down as he sucks in the swollen peak of your breast. You can feel it, the two of you are so close.

“Gale.. Gale.. I’m going to…” You're breathless now. You can’t get it out, your head is dizzying.

He brings his mouth to your ear, his breath hot as he whispers; “Let go. Cum for me”.

That’s all it takes. Your whole body shatters around him as his name escapes your lips in pure unfiltered ecstasy. He comes undone seconds later, you feel a warm splash on your bare stomach and he brings his head down to rest his forehead on yours. Softly he kisses you again before you both straighten out your clothing and smooth your hair. Silently you sit there leaning into him on the deck looking out over the water.

“I have a confession to make.” He says scattering kisses down your cheek.

“Mhmmm… Let me guess? You rigged the pouches somehow to be partnered with me tonight?” You say looking at him.

He flashes you a wicked smile and kisses you deeply as you both stand up to continue a sweep of the perimeter. You are on duty after all and now is not the time.. nor the place.

#baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep #the wizard of waterdeep #gale fanfic #gale fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #fanfic #gale fic

133 notes · View notes

a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 1 year ago

Text

AO3 is back up but I’m still writing Nimona headcanons

I feel like the main trio are all really bad at taking care of themselves

Nimona can go a long time without eating drinking or sleeping so it's really easy for her to fall into a pattern of not taking care of herself until she’s sluggish and snappy

At first it was really hard for the boys to distinguish her food withdrawals from her normal chaos

When they do figure it out they make sure she eats and drinks at least once a day even if it small

It took a minute for her to adapt to this because she views taking care of herself as a hobby

But after a while she realizes that they’re just looking out for her so she goes along with it

Every once and a while Bal gets hyper-fixated on certain projects which causes him to forget to eat and sleep

Nimona once asked Ambrosius why he doesn’t do anything to stop these habits to which he responded “Oh believe me Nim I’ve tried it’s better to just let him get it out of his system”

Nimona still didn’t understand this and tried to force Bal to get up and take care of himself

Which just ended with Nimona being on the other side of a verbal thrashing and then quickly shoved out of Bal’s workspace

Ambrosius didn’t even bat an eye

Just walked around Nimona into the room with some food and water and then quickly left him alone

After that Nimona started to leave Bal snacks and pillows in his workshop when he eventually crashed

(And occasionally carrying him to his room when Ambrosius was too tired to carry him)

Bal also forgets to charge his arm

So it’s not uncommon for his arm to die and stay locked in that position

One time Ambrosius walked into the kitchen to find Bal hunched in an awkward position over his coffee and he didn’t flinch

Just gave him a straw and a kiss on his head before he left for work

Another time Nimona walked into the living room to find them cuddled on the couch

And they start their normal rant of “Ew gross get a room”

To which Ambrosius replied “I would if I could Nim”

She was quietly informed that Bal fell asleep and his arm died shortly after and Ambrosius has been stuck like this for hours waiting for Bal to wake up

Nimona laughed so hard they almost woke Bal up

They started storing chargers all around the house after that

So I have a headcanon that I kind of hinted at in my other post

But I’m fully convinced that Ambrosius' shoulder is fucked after the movie (he also has scars because I said so)

Because no way in hell can this man take a blast like that to his shoulder and walk away perfectly fine

Nah that man will be doing PT exercises for the rest of his life

And this dork forgets to do his exercises until he’s literally on the floor writhing in pain

Bal has tried just about everything to get him to remember

He’ll leave notes around the house, he’ll remind him before he leaves for work, writing it into his workout routine

Nimona told him “Boss you’re being too soft” and quickly switched tactics

Now you might be wondering what method Nimona used and that's simple he started blackmailing Ambrosius

Nimona started to warn Ambrosius “If you don’t do your exercises I’ll tell boss what happened to the last slice of cake” or “I’ll release the video of you singing at the top of your lungs while cleaning the house”

And the stupid thing is it worked

Ambrosius always says shit like “I should have left you in that box on the side of the road” to which Nimona responds with “Nah you’d miss me too much”

He also had a bad habit of getting sucked into little projects like trying to rebuild the city and fixing all the brainwashing that's been going on since the institute was created

You know small tasks for one person

And this dork will stay locked in his office until Nimona and Bal drag his overdramatic ass out

He always makes a big deal about it too screaming shit like “Oh please help me the heroes of the realm are kidnapping me an innocent bystander while I was simply doing my job!”

I feel like Bal and Ambrosius have a lot of nicknames for Nimona “Nim” is the most common

“Hun” and “kid” are used a couple of times but not nearly as often as the weird ones

Like “tornado” “tsunami” “hurricane” and “forest fire”

And if we're getting really sappy “starlight”

Now if you're wondering where this one came from I’ll tell you

When Bal and Ambrosius were little beans Bal called Ambrosius “sunshine”

It was supposed to be ironic but after that he started calling Bal “moonbeam”

And Ambrosius jokes that Nimona completes their little astronomy shtick

She pretended to be grossed out and lets Bal hug her and Bal and Ambrosius pretended not to notice the tears on Bals shirt

537 notes · View notes

imagined-rubbermen · 6 months ago

Text

There's a lot that no one ever tells you about acclimating to becoming a rubber drone. Granted, everyone that used the Dronification Kit can't really talk about it, and most of them won't communicate just because their "master" forbids, or something. The lack of needs wasn't hard to get used to, if anything that's a lot of worries off my back. But no breathing? No talking? The lack of bodily functions felt alien. At least I could still see and hear, even if I lacked the body parts to do so. But my hearing and vision was so clear, so crisp, that it was overwhelming. The combined sensory deprivation and amplification was a lot to handle, so I did what usually helps me; I took a walk.

It was raining that night, and the rain kinda helped calm me down. I could differentiate each droplet hitting my new rubber skin, and it drowned out my anxiety. The increased sensitivity was a godsend now, and I savoured it. As I walked, my movements became more simplified, rigid, focused, yet flexible, softer, pliable. I assumed that's my flesh and bone turning into rubber now. The ideas in my mind about how to use my new body made me feel like my blood was pumping, even if I lacked such.

When I got home, I went to the bathroom to dry off. However, the rain made me so smooth, I got a little carried away. I relaxed and felt myself up right on the spot. I rubbed myself all over, my tightly defined chest, my smooth helmet like face, even my crotch. That last one was the biggest surprise, I didn't have anything down there. No shaft, no balls, no anus. There was a weird lock imprint on my bulge, but other than that, I really liked it. I knew I'd love being a featureless rubber drone.

Eventually I felt the sensation of climaxing; the rush, the release, the exhaustion, but I didn't come. After all, I didn't need human anatomy to pleasure myself. The best part? It took almost no time at all for my new rubbery, smooth, elastic body was ready for round two, and I went again, my body squeaking alone on the bathroom floor. After climaxing again, I let myself fall asleep on the bathroom floor.

It's weird now, my life that is. So many people think I have a "master" or an "owner" but instead I'm the master of my life. I'm made of rubber now, and if anyone gives me any issues, they can barely hurt me, while I show them what I can do. Now I have complete control of myself, my emotions, my body, my life. My libido is ready to fire on all cylinders whenever, and I can feel myself for hours sometimes, and can easily stop. I was like a machine, although I kinda am.

Of course, I saw an opportunity, and sometimes sell my "services" to lonely men that need that sexual satisfaction of an object. Of course they know I'm in charge, and getting into a fight with a rubber drone is not something I'd advise (although some of those guys really liked it, so what do I know?). I'll let them play with me. Some guys like to smell and lick me, like how I would play with rubber drones before I became one. Some guys would try to fuck me, although without any orifices, their shafts rubbed against me until they came. A few beat me, which I kinda liked, probably cause my rubber body would bend and twist with ease.

Mainly though I've found myself being kind of a therapist, letting men air out their emotions out. Sure, a few were still in the closet, and few were still a virgin. For those men, I went the extra mile. Of others, they'd just talk. I guess being a gay man can be isolating at times, like how almost no rubber drone I met seems to be independent. Unsurprisingly, being made of rubber meant I was comfortable to hug and cuddle, and in those moments, being a rubber drone is really worth it.

From that, my life is perfect now. The strangest thing is that I don't need clothing anymore. My body is so featureless that I don't feel naked, like my rubber skin is a suit anyways. Even when I do wear clothes I tend to mainly wear plain, oversized clothes, mostly gym stuff. However, sometimes at night I'll walk alone in the nude, just me and the night air. And when it rains like that first night I was a drone, it's so... Perfect...

It's not for everyone, maybe not even you. But if you still want to experience it, I'd suggest a gimp suit first before getting a Dronification Kit. Or if you just wanna find out what a rubber drone is like, I'm $50 hour.

#ai generated #rubbermen #gay rubber #gay gear #rubber drone #posts with a story #personal favourites

69 notes · View notes

darksigns-exe · 3 months ago

Text

the taste of the divine - noah x laurie (ofc)

warnings: Swearing, gentle femdom, use chastity device (cock cage), mommy kink, use of butt plugs (m receiving) oral sex (f receiving), pegging (m receiving)

word count: 4.6k

masterlist | series masterlist | taglist sign-up

“I think I just need to get out of my head.” He says a little shakily.

Noah isn’t sure where this anxious energy is coming from, either. He’s fidgety, agitated. He can’t find rest no matter how hard he tries. He doesn’t even have anything wild on his calendar. He’s just restless.

Laurie looks at him with a deep sense of worry. He doesn’t like when she looks like that, not because he doesn’t like how much she cares for him, but rather because he doesn’t want her to worry.

“Come here, will you?” She asks softly, patting the spot next to her on the sofa.

Noah follows quietly. He finds himself settling into that space so easily. He hasn’t outright asked for it yet, but Laurie always seems to know when he needs her to really take the reins.

He settles against her side, lets himself melt against her smaller frame.

“Can you tell me what you need?”

That’s the issue, though, he doesn’t quite know what he needs. All he knows is that he needs her to take him apart bit by bit. That he needs to feel himself reduced to the most base part of his soul so that they can put the pieces of him back together afterwards.

Saying it out loud is a different thing, though. It’s still a little daunting. He’s sure that he’ll eventually be able to ask her to turn him inside out without stumbling over his words like this.

“Can you take care of me again?” Is the best he can manage. The honorific gets lost in his mumbling. Knowing Laurie, she has still somehow picked up on it.

Above him, Laurie lets out a soft sigh. She presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Oh baby.” She says softly, “You want me in charge of it?”

He lets out a barely there yes, but it’s enough for her. Laurie carefully ushers him to sit up, so that they’re face to face. She keeps a gentle hold on his hand, and he’s more than thankful for it.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You can say no at any point, there will be no hard feelings. Understood?”

He nods, looking somewhere between intimidated and shy.

“Words, Noah. I’ll need to speak up for this.”

“Understood.”

“Good.” She gives him an almost wicked smile, “You’re going to go over into the bedroom and undress for me. I want you to fold your clothes and place them up on the dresser. After that, I want you to sit on the edge of the bed and wait. I’ll be with you in a moment. Is that all clear?”

“Yes.”

She cradles his face in one of her manicured hands, and Noah feels his heart skip a little in anticipation. A kiss is pressed to his cheek and he can feel the remnants of her lipstick staining his skin.

“Take your time. There’s no rush at all. Is that okay?”

He confirms, still feeling a little shaky.

Laurie releases her hold on him.

“Go on, my love.”

Noah takes a final breath before he scrambles off the sofa. He feels Laurie’s eyes burning into his back as he makes his way over into their now shared bedroom. He knows that she has experience with this, but he hadn’t expected her to be this prepared. They’ve dabbled in this kind of play before, and Laurie had made it very clear that she wanted to help him explore it. He can’t help but feel a little bitter about the thought that someone before him might have felt her gentle hand on their cheek.

Noah has no idea of what she’s planned for him, and it makes him nervous. He does as she’s asked, strips down until he’s bare and folds his clothes. He feels horribly exposed, even though she’s seen him like this all too often.

When he sits on the bed, he finds himself automatically placing his hands on top of his thighs. Noah doesn’t know how much time passes until the door clicks open.

In the dim light of the room, he can barely make out her shape.

She doesn’t say anything and just quietly checks that he’s done what she asked him to do.

“Good boy.”

The praise sears through him like fire.

“Ready for the next part?”

“I’m ready.”

She’s standing right in front of him by then. All soft bodied and warm. Her hand cards through his hair, forcing him to look up at her.

“We’re going to put a pretty little plug in you. It’s a little bigger than the one we’ve used before, but you’ll be fine. Before that, though, I’d like to lock your cock up. I know it’s a big thing, but the aim of this is for you to give up control. I think you’ll like it.” Her hand shifts towards his cheek, “Does that sound okay?”

“If I decide that I don’t like it?”

“We’ll take it off again. All you have to do is say so.”

“I want to try.” Noah says surprisingly firm.

“Lie back for me, sweetheart.”

“Can I see how you do it?”

She pauses for a second, fixing him with a minimally concerned look, “Of course. Sit up against the headboard.”

He does as she asks, sits all prettily until she gently tugs him just a little bit forward.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Tell me if something feels off, okay?”

His chest heaves with nervous breaths when she carefully moves the ring over his shaft. She’s so calm with it that Noah’s sure that she has done this before. He doesn’t have time to question how this thing works.

“That’s the first part done. How’s it feel?”

Noah dares to look down for the first time. It’s just a ring that sits at the base of his cock and behind his balls. It’s new. It feels strange. It’s tight, but not uncomfortably so.

“It’s good.”

“Do you need a moment?”

“Can I see the rest?”

“The actual cage?”

He nods “Yes.”

The plastic feels too light for what it means. He doesn’t know how it’ll fit, how it’ll feel in general. The idea makes him feel a little dizzy, though. He’d asked her to take control from him, he’d wanted this. And now that it’s practically dangling in front of his face, he feels a little scared of it all.

“Do you just want to see how it feels first? We don’t have to lock it immediately.”

The tenderness she gives him when they play like this always makes him shiver. Laurie’s always so gentle with him, so caring. When they’d first started to talk about kink in this way, and she told him that she prefers to be in charge, most of the time his mind had gone straight to cuffs and whips and whatever else porn had sold him. That this kind of dominance could be gentle, too, had been entirely new to him.

He can’t imagine them being different now. Noah hadn’t thought of himself as anything really when it came to this kind of thing. But when Laurie tells him to be good, he can’t help himself. Doing as she asks is a natural instinct.

“Noah?” The stern edge to her voice makes his head snap up, “I asked you something.”

“Can we just try it for now?”

Her face softens immediately, “Of course, my love.”

He holds the plastic piece out to her. Laurie sits in front of him, one hand on his knees as she gently pries his thighs apart just a little bit more. This he knows.

“Tell me if something feels off, okay?”

“Okay.” He mirrors.

Noah tries to think of anything but her, when she takes him into her hand. It’s such an odd feeling. He’d thought that it would be a tight fit, but it’s surprisingly comfortable. She’s so careful with it, too.

“How’s that feel?”

Her hand is still holding it in the position it would be in when locked.

Noah thinks for a moment.

He wants to try at least. Even if it’s just out of curiosity.

“It’s good.”

Laurie smiles then, all soft and sweet, before she presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Hold it up for me?”

Noah nods.

He watches as she picks up a small key from the night stand.

“If you want it off at any moment, let me know. We’ll stop immediately.”

“I will.”

“Good boy.” Her thumb drifts over his cheek briefly.

His eyes follow her hands when she moves to lock the cage in place. He feels himself twitch inside the plastic.

“There you go.”

The key returns to its place on the night stand.

His tummy feels all kinds of twisted up. It’s not bad, though. To his surprise, he likes it, likes how small it makes him feel.

“How do you feel?”

“Good. I like it.”

And he really does. There’s an odd sense of comfort that comes with it. He’s entirely hers right now, and that sets his mind at ease.

“Do you need a moment or are you good to go on?”

“We can go on.”

Laurie has him move onto his hands and knees in the middle of the bed. Normally, Noah prefers to be on his back for this part. He wants to see her, wants to see how it affects her, but with what they’re doing today this feels right.

Her fingers drift across his skin. He’s on edge, unsure of where she’ll touch next. Lips press to his lower back, lower still against the soft round of his backside. Her thumbs drag along the length of his spine, and he moans with relief. It’s not enough to ease the knots out of his back, but it feels divine.

“Gonna be cold for a second, honey.” She whispers before he feels the first touch of her finger against the taut muscle.

Laurie draws slow circles against his entrance, carefully works her pointer finger into him. The ache isn’t so bad any more. He’s gotten used to it and the stretch of her fingers by now. The comforting hand on his waist helps too. It’s a constant reminder that she’s there, that she’s taking care of him.

Noah feels himself getting lost in the feeling. His soft sighs quickly turn into whines when she works a second finger into him.

“You’re doing so well for me, my love. Always such a good boy.” She coos.

The praise always makes him sink further into that headspace. The more she praises him, the better he wants to be for her.

Noah presses back against her, desperate to feel more.

“I know what you want.” She gives his waist a gentle squeeze, “You’ll get it if you’re good for me.”

“Please.”

Her fingers still at his plea, “You’ve been so very good. Don’t get bratty now. I told you, you’ll get what you want if you’re good.”

Noah cranes his head back, trying to get a glimpse of her, “Please mommy, I’ll be good. I promise.”

Laurie gazes at him with a tenderness that makes him want to crumble beneath her.

She pats his waist softly, “I know you will. You love being my good boy, don’t you?”

He whines out a yes, and that seems to be enough for Laurie. She picks up her slow and steady rhythm once again. They’ve done this part a few times, and Noah knows that he has to keep his mind empty if he wants to last. He can’t tell how long they’re here like this. The press of her fingers against his walls almost makes his arms buckle a few times. And when Laurie eventually removes her fingers from his hole, Noah finds himself whining at the sudden emptiness.

“You’ve almost made it, baby.” Her gentle voice seeps through his already fogged up mind, “Just the plug now, and then we’re done.”

He feels her lean towards the night stand, but Noah can’t bring himself to look at what she’s doing. He doesn’t have to wait long, though. Her hands soon return to his waist.

“How are you feeling?”

It takes Noah a second too long to reply, because a moment later she has moved to his side.

“Noah?”

Laurie cups the side of his face, to make him look at her.

“Talk to me, love.”

He blinks at her a few times, shifting uncomfortably.

“Do you want to take a break?” She asks softly, thumb drifting across his cheek so sweetly.

“Just a second.” Noah replies shakily.

Laurie tilts his head up just a little bit more, before she leans in to kiss him.

“You’ve been so, so good for me.” She whispers against his lips.

The sweet, gentle praise, she showers him with, seeps into his mind. And when she moves back behind him, Noah patiently anticipates the dull pressure of the plug. He whines when he finally feels it. Laurie takes her time with it, slowly easing the plug into his hole. His breath catches when the widest part of it stretches him open. It slips inside so easily that Noah doesn’t even have the time to moan.

“There you go, my darling. All done.” another squeeze of his waist, “Want a little break now?”

His head perks up at that.

He sits up next to her, shifting a little when the plug moves inside of him. Laurie pulls him in for another gentle kiss. Her hand feels so awfully small against his cheek, but it’s always so reassuring. Laurie moves them so that Noah is resting against her belly, arms wrapped around her middle as best as he can. The sweet things she whispers to him barely reach his conscious mind. He feels so safe and comfortable when they’re like this, so well taken care of. The gentle care she gives him eases his worries like little else does.

As comfortable as he is, he can’t stop his restless shifting. Laurie cards her hand through his hair, carefully pushing some of the strands away from his face.

“Think you’re up for more? I know this is a lot at once.”

He turns his head so that he can look at her, “We can go on.”

“Still comfortable?”

“Very.” he can’t hide the smile that so desperately wants to force its way onto his face.

“Good. Do you want to get on your knees for me? Show me just how good you are?”

He nods and almost immediately tries to worm his way out of her embrace. Laurie laughs softly at his eagerness.

“You know where I want you.” She continues, “Be good for me and wait. I’ll be right back with you.”

He wants to protest, wants to whine when she walks past him. But he knows better by now. Whining won’t get him what he wants. And so Noah only lets out a hum when her hand runs through his hair and down the side of his face. He doesn’t turn when he hears one of the drawers behind him slide open and close again. Noah hears her moving, the rustling of clothes, and a moment later Laurie is back in front of him. She’s shed her shorts, leaving only the shirt of his that she’d borrowed earlier in the day.

Noah lets his head drop to the inside of her thigh when she’s properly seated. It almost feels as if his mind is set onto a singular goal. He waits patiently, eyes fixed on her face. He feels drowsy in the best way possible. The things he’d been agonising over had faded into the background of his mind, leaving him only with the desire to be good for her.

“Mommy?” He asks quietly.

Laurie looks at him with a softness that makes him shiver, “Hm?”

“Can I?”

“What do you want, love? You’ll have to be a bit clearer.”

“Can I put my mouth on you? I’ve been good, haven’t I?” the desperation in his voice is evident by now.

Laurie pulls him closer with a gentle hand on his cheek, “You’ve been so good. Go on.”

Noah surges forward as soon as her thighs are parted wide enough to for it. His hands curl around her thighs, fingers digging into her skin. He sighs when his tongue makes contact with her folds. The taste of her floods his senses and Noah lets himself get lost in the sensations of it. Laurie’s fingers tangle into his hair, holding him close, even though they both know that she’ll have to pry him away later.

He kisses and laps at her folds so carefully. By now, Noah has a good grip on what she likes, and he’s more than happy to give her exactly that. The pretty sighs that fall from her lips fuel his slow exploration. The gentle scrape of her fingers against his scalp feels like heaven and mixed with her sweet taste he can’t imagine himself anywhere else. Not that he wants to be anywhere else.

“Always make me feel so good, love.” she sighs, “You’re so good for me.”

He looks up at her, warmth filling his insides. She’s so beautiful, and he’s so in love. Laurie gazes at him with so much softness, so much love. Her grip on his hair tightens, as she pulls him deeper against her again. He whines against her when she pulls at his hair just right. Noah feels so dizzy with it. Between the different stimuli, he doesn’t quite know what to focus on first. The plug shifts inside him, making him gasp and moan against her. Above him, Laurie mirrors the sounds he makes, sighing with every pass of his tongue through her folds.

He feels her shudder through her climax, but her hands remain in his hair, and he knows that she wants him to continue. Noah remains between her thighs, until she pries him away. He doesn’t know how long she had allowed him to stay between her thighs like this, but from the ache in his knees, it must have been some time. His head thumps against the inside of her thigh again. Noah draws in a deep breath. He can feel the residue of her release on his face.

Laurie seems to be just as breathless as he is. The thin sheen of sweat that covers her face makes her skin shine so prettily.

“You were so good for me, my dear.” she says so sweetly, “I think you’ve really earned your treat.”

Noah feels himself perk up at that.

Laurie gives a little laugh in return, “Come up here, will you?”

He scrambles up to his feet, almost tumbling over on top of her as he does. Laurie’s hands quickly find their way to the sides of his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

“On your back, Noah.” another kiss, “I’ll be right with you.”

Noah does as she asked, positioning himself in the middle of the bed. His hands open and close over and over again, unsure of where wants to leave them. He watches as Laurie steps into the harness. He’s been waiting for this since they started. Noah loves how attentive she is with him. She takes such good care of him, always intent of making him feel good.

The sight of the strap on always makes shiver a little. They’ve worked their way up to one that isn’t too far off from the size of his own cock. It looks enormous on her. He squirms, anticipating the feeling of it inside of him.

“Think you’re ready for it?” Laurie asks, as she comes to kneel between his legs.

Noah nods quickly, “Yes.”

Her hands run across his thighs. Noah feels the muscle spasm beneath her touch. One hand remains on his thigh, while the other moves towards the plug. Laurie’s eyes remain fixed on his when she tugs at the plug. She scans his face for discomfort, and when she doesn’t find any, she continues to pull at it. Noah’s hands grip into the bedsheets below him, trying to stifle the whine that sits behind his lips. It breaks free eventually when the widest part of the plug passes through him. It’s over a moment later. Laurie squeezes his thigh when he lets out a faint little whimper.

“You’re doing so good, love.” she whispers, “So, so good.”

Laurie uncaps the bottle of lube again. The nervous anticipation in Noah’s belly threatens to bubble over. He winces when the cold lube touches his skin, earning himself another calming squeeze of his thigh. She covers the toy in lube, her small hand fitting around it just barely.

It’s a dizzying sight.

Noah can’t keep his eyes open any longer when he feels the dull head of the toy against his hole. Thanks to the preparation, the toy slips in easily. His thighs spread further, giving Laurie more space. Noah feels himself whimpering, gasping as it sinks into him. Laurie leans across to kiss him, when the toy is fully seated inside of him.

“Feeling good, love?” she asks softly.

He can’t bring himself to speak up this time, and thankfully Laurie doesn’t force the words out of him this time. Instead, her hands find their way to his waist. Her fingers drift across the skin of his tummy.

He gasps when the toy shifts, as she readjusts her position a little. Noah gives the faintest nod, signalling that he’s ready to continue. He’s glad that she’s giving him this grace. Usually, she’s so very intent on him giving verbal responses.

Laurie pulls back until just the head of the toy remains inside. She keeps her thrusts slow, drawing out the end he craves so much. He feels himself fraying at the seems with every thrust she gives. What Laurie gives him is enough to keep him right at the edge of it, but not enough to send him over the edge. One of his hands releases the sheets and instead comes to hold onto her thigh, needing to feel her skin somehow. Laurie’s hand curls around his, entangling their fingers to ground him. It’s enough to get Noah to open his eyes again. He needs another moment, before he can bring himself to look at her across the length of his body. He can’t look at where they’re joined for very long. She looks gorgeous, eyes blown wide, lips parted and spit-slicked, cheeks tinged pink.

“Does that feel good?” she asks, sounding a little breathless already.

Noah tries his best to articulate a yes, but it comes out as a breathy whine. She smiles and the movement of his hips stutters just a little.

He whines out her name, gasping when she hits just the right spot. Seeing his thigh hiked up against her waist, her hand gripping into his skin, melts his brain even more. His back arches off the mattress, and the sweet words Laurie speaks turn into fuzz. Noah swears that his vision whites out when his climax hits him. It’s overwhelming, and Noah feels as if he’s floating several feet above his own body. The feeling becomes too much a moment later, and he squeezes her hand twice to signal it to Laurie.

She stops moving immediately.

Laurie gently guides his leg back down to the mattress.

“You did so well for me, Noah.” she says, barely above a whisper, “Do you need a moment?”

“You can pull out.” he croaks, his voice so rough and worn out.

His grip on her hand tightens when she does, and he only whines when she gets up off the bed. Laurie doesn’t shush him like she sometimes does, doesn’t tell him to stop whining and that she’ll only be away for a moment. His eyes fall shut again and Noah lets himself revel in the feeling for a moment longer.

The bed dips down again and he feels her undo the lock. Noah can’t stop the sigh that falls from him when she carefully pulls the cage away again. It feels as if it has been ages, but at the same time he’d gotten used to it so quickly that he had barely noticed it towards the end.

“I’m going to get a wash cloth and start us a bath, okay? I’ll be right back.” the words barely reach his drowsy mind.

He feels a little more settled when Laurie returns a little while later. Additionally, to the wash cloth, she had picked up one of the cookies they’d gotten from the café earlier that day and a bottle of water. Noah sits up against the headboard, letting his head drop against it when she sits next to him. He should be used to the routine that follows. But she’s so gentle with him when she cleans the residue of his cum from his skin. Being taken care of like this always makes him feel so very loved. Laurie tends to him so sweetly that it makes his heart soar every time.

“How are you feeling?” Laurie asks when he’s settled against her in the tub.

It’s more than a little cramped, he barely fits into the damned thing and his knees stick out of the lush, warm water. The comfort of this part is unmatched though.

“Good.” he replies, “I don’t think that I’ve ever felt like that.”

Laurie presses a kiss to his cheek, “Think we’ve gotten you out of your head?”

He pauses for a moment, tempted to be cheeky about it. Instead, he nods.

“Thank you, Laurie. You always take care of me and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Another kiss to cheek, “Thankfully we don’t have to think about that case, because you’re not getting rid of me. Ever.”

Nor would he ever want to. He can’t attest all of his progress to Laurie, but she’d always shown him so much unconditional kindness and love that he’d at some point started to see himself worthy of that. Noah doesn’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way he’d found a sense of profound happiness. The comfort he finds in these small four walls they share, their little routines, the gentle little touches they exchange throughout the day slowly mends the cracks in his chest. And he’s sure that he wouldn’t have found any of this if it hadn’t been for her.

He tries to pay it back as best as he can. He knows that he’s clumsy with it sometimes. It comes so effortlessly to her and Laurie is adamant that he’s doing more than enough to her. But on some days the sandwiches he brings her – not from the shop but their own kitchen – don’t feel sufficient to express the love and gratitude he feels. He knows that she doesn’t expect grand gestures from him, they’ve had this discussion more than once. All Noah wants is to give some of the love she gives him back.

“All this work to get you out of your head, just for you to get lost again.” Laurie tuts behind him.

“Just thought about how good this all is.” Noah answers after a moment, “I love you so much.”

He tries to crane his head back to look at her. When he can’t quite reach her, he tries to turn and his shifting slashes some of the water out onto the tiles and the carpet. None of it matters though when gets to look at her and Laurie whispers an I love you too against his lips.

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken

#noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction

52 notes · View notes

mychlapci · 5 months ago

Note

Prowl letting his lower ranked officers fuck him in his disgusting office... he's not willing to leave when he has a case to solve and he can feel all the tension in his frame and kinks in his cabling from doing nothing but staying in that stuffy room and sleeping at his desk. He knows he needs some physical activity to get his systems working again. The overload will do good to reset some of his systems too.

So he just comms some random officer he knows would would die to spike him. He tells the mech, point blank, he's allowed to spike Prowl if he doesn't make anything of it and also doesn't disturb him. The random mech nods so fast and is all like YES SIR and already scrambling to release his panels and nervously wringing his servos together as Prowl looks annoyed by the eagerness.

Prowl turns to lean against his stupid corkboard, servos propped up against it, and clicks his panels open, presenting his array to the other officer. He doesn't raise a finger. He lets the mech do all the work, the mech eagerly stroking Prowl's spike from behind and playing with his node until his valve finally begins to lubricate. He's not even paying attention, still busy studying his notes on the board, as the other mech practically whines at seeing Prowl's valve glisten before slowly pushing 2 fingers in.

Prowl rolls his optics when the other mech ruts into him like an animal, panting and drooling and whimpering his name over and over again.

It works though. The mech brings them both to an overload eventually. Prowl feels the rush of charge over his overworked systems, finally clearing some of the packets of old corrupted data that have been lingering for cycles.

Then out the guy goes. Kicked out of Prowl's office.

Prowl doesn't even bother to clean up, leaving his transfluid splattered on the wall and their shared fluids leaking from his valve and dripping down his thighs. He's almost got this case solved. He can feel it.

(Someone should really come and fuck him stupid tho. Please please please someone needs to come in and rail him so hard he cums all over his coarkboard and begs to be fucked again)

hgrhhh... Prowl pragmatically considers interfacing to be just a way for him to release all his pesky charge. It helps clear his processor when he's been agonizing over his case for weeks straight. There's plenty of officers who are willing to spike him, despite all his... shortcomings. He's a wet hole they can fuck, quickly and without any consequences. Of course they take on his proposition. Prowl doesn't react. He keeps his bloodshot optics trained on the cork board, valve dripping and squelching as the other mech assaulted the nodes, forcing the charge to course through his pelvic area.

Of course Prowl doesn't clean up afterwards. He wouldn't until it he remembers to shower, which could be any in any amount of time. He'll just let the transfluid dry up and crust between his folds. Maybe he brushes off what leaked down his thighs, if he feels like being presentable for any reason at all.

Someone is bound to get fed up with him, though. They'll spike him to hell and back and he barely even makes a sound? Perhaps some day, someone walks into his office and tears Prowl away from his cork board and paperwork, shoving him down onto his desk and telling him to make some noise.

#valveplug #texty #unsanitary

36 notes · View notes

lucyav13 · 4 months ago

Text

NPC

Some of the NPC we saw...

Heronicus

We can found him living behind Saffron's restaurant after we got Boomer. His house shows objects from our adventures: there is the vase from Chapter 2-3, a Meowmaid-like relic, and a model of the two stone heads found in Chapter 4-2; atop his bookshelf, a dark rock from Outer Space, a totem pole from Downtown of Crag and a torch holder from The Underwhere can also be found. Heronicus additionally has a picture that may possibly depict a blue Squarp hole, and Flipping in his home reveals a picture of a sandy, dune-filled expanse resembling Yold Desert (Curiously, this picture actually shows the background Yold Desert possessed in the pre-release version of Super Paper Mario). Technilly, he spoil us without we notice.

Heronicus also appears briefly at the beginning of Chapter 6-1. After entering the room with Jade Blooper, the first Sammer Guy, Heronicus runs away and exits, apparently having lost to him. His name is also seen in the Flipside Arcade, where he holds the high scores of 550000 and 80000 in Mansion Patrol, and 100,0000 in Hammer Whacker.

Something curious, to say the least, after the game is beaten, Heronicus tells us that he spent a part of his life exploring to find a "legendary Pixl", with a partner. When they found this Pixl, there was a rock slide; Heronicus leaped into action and saved his partner, but the legendary Pixl was lost during the incident. This is the reason Heronicus stopped exploring. It is mentioned in Flopside by Hatch outside of the Flopside version of Heronicus's house that the person who lived there (presumably Heronicus's Flopside version) also went exploring for a legendary Pixl. Again, there was also a rock slide, but instead of saving his partner, he saved the Pixl instead. It is unknown where the Flopside Heronicus went, but the Pixl he saved was Piccolo, who is then found inside the house.... So keep a close eye on your friends 👀

Sipsi

According to Tippi, she is known as the "town gossip", and she is always the first to know anything that happens in town. She gives info about flipping dimensions when the player sees a row of coins. If the player talks to her after completing other chapters, they can hear her gossip about various other characters in the game.

One of 'em is what is shown in this image, and here another one that I am going to attach:

"I heard the hole in the sky was created by Count Bleck to destroy the world! And this Bleck guy hangs out with a foxy secretary type named Nastasia... So I wonder what's up between them... And I hear this Nastasia is a hypnotist, but her powers don't work on the count! Ladies need to watch out for men that are impervious to their feminine wiles..."

(A/N): I can't attach the others because I haven't been able to play because of my TV, I can't clearly see any of the games I have on my Wii, and I haven't found any gameplay that is shown.

One last fact is that, the Yold Ruin geographical setting has been used in the original Paper Mario, where Mt. Rugged is nestled before Dry Dry Desert. In fact, the mountain's environment is also similar to Mt. Rugged, despite its lack of Monty Moles, Clefts, or even some sort of bird.

Bestovious

He is the Dimensional Governor of Lineland and the so-called "Flip Wizard". He is responsible for granting Mario the ability to switch between the second and third dimensions, an ability that the game showcases throughout the entire story. He tries to charge Mario a huge sum of coins for the enchantment, but he eventually settles for a very small price or for free. His name is a pun on the word "bestow", as he bestows upon Mario the ability to flip between dimensions. It may also be a pun on "best of us", due to his arrogant personality.

Bestovius thinks highly of himself and is a descendant of the tribe of ancients. He is also a distant cousin of Merlon and merlee, and is a direct cousin of Watchitt.

Card Description: Bestovius taught Mario how to flip between dimensions. He talks about his beard and floats all the time. Other than that, he's perfectly normal.

Merlee

In the Paper Mario, Merlee is depicted as Merluvlee's twin sister and therefore also a sibling of Merlow. She resides in a hidden alley in Dry Dry Outpost and uses cards to power Mario up.

And, in a dialogue with Merlon (in this game), he reveals that she is his granddaughter. Although whether it is true or not is a mystery, since these genealogy are not 100% confirmed.

In TTYD, she has the same task as always.

The following facts about Merlee were revealed during the "That's My Merlee!" show:

Merlee was born on March 25.

Her favorite smell is fresh air.

Her favorite food is strawberries.

She washes her bangs first in the shower.

Her nickname is the "Bashful Ghost".

She has no preferred type of guy.

Her favorite animal is a bear cub.

Her hobbies include looking through catalogs for crystal balls.

She wants the newest kind of crystal ball.

Her best feature is the lobes of her ears.

In this game, Merlee is Merluvlee's rival, and has been ever since they were classmates.

When Mario and co. get the 3Ds for Merluvlee, she will give Merlee's Crystal Ball to Mario and friends. Merluvlee mentions that she and Merlee are 'even' when she gives the Crystal Ball, possibly a reference to the original Paper Mario, in which Mario had to give Merluvlee a crystal ball from Merlee.

When we we hire the Merlee's services, after defeating a certain amount of enemies, a roulette of helpful items appears and Mario is given one item from the roulette. She allows Mario to receive any level of charm for free one time if Mario and friends brought her the Crystal Ball from Merluvlee.

Charm details:

The package bought determines how many times the roulette appears. Each spin happens after a random number of enemies has been defeated (between 20-70, in which the counter resets to zero).

Trial Package (50 Coins): The roulette appears five times.

Advised Package (100 Coins): The roulette appears 10 times.

Special Package (200 Coins): The roulette appears 15 times.

In Super Mario-kun, she is captured by Mimi. Mimi then disguises as Merlee and leads Mario into the trap. When Mario defeats Mimi and rescues Merlee, Merlee gives Mario a Pure Heart.

These are the different tattles for her in every game she makes an apparence:

Paper Mario

Tattle: "She's a wizard, Merlee. She casts spells. If you let her cast a spell on you, it may affect you in battle. She's one of the pair of twins. The other one is Merluvlee, from Shooting Star Summit. When I look at a woman as beautiful as this, it makes me feel all strange! ♥"

Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door

Tattle: "That's the charmer, Merlee. She's bright and cheery, huh? If you have her charm you, you'll receive various bonuses in battle. They're super-helpful, so next time you have a chance, be sure to have her charm you! Oh, AND I hear she's the twin sister of Merluvlee, the fortune-teller!"

Super Paper Mario

Tattle: "That's Merlee, the charmer... Her spells are empowering when you're in a bind... She lives in a large mansion in Gloam Valley, but moved here to help the heroes... She and Flipside's fortune-teller, Merluvlee, were rivals when they were classmates..."

Card Description: This charmer uses the sun to work her magic. She is a descendant of the Tribe of Ancients.

Flint Cragley

(Image credits to whom it may concern, I did not find the author of this wonderful work of art)

He's a celebrity amongst his race, Flint has the highest-rated news program in all of Crag, and is the only Cragnon encountered who wears clothes other than animal skins, does not speak in third-person, and does not insert "crag" and "brah" in place of other words. His name derives from flint (a hard, resilient variety of quartz that was often the material of choice in making stone tools like arrow- and spearheads) and crag (alternatively Cragnon). He bears some resemblance to Indiana Jones (who he is even named after in some translations) and other celebrity documentarians like Steve Irwin. He is also somewhat comparable to Kolorado, from the first Paper Mario, as both are explorers, both are encountered in a cavern, and they both star in Chapter 5 of their respective games. His TV show is called Flint Cragley, Cragtrotter, which is also the name of his theme, according to The InterNed.

(If anyone is wondering, these are the flint stones 👆)

Flint makes a non-speaking appearance when the Land of the Cragnons is briefly shown being swallowed by The Void during the final battle, panicking alongside the other Cragnons and presumably being erased along with his dimension. After the Void is closed and his and all other dimensions are saved from its destruction, Flint Cragley can be found again after beating the game, making a new rock single entitled, "Cragley Croons in Crag: Songs in the Key of Flint". It has at least 127 verses. (A/N: What the...)

In the Wii U, we can fin a trophie with him printed, with the following description:

'Who would use "Cragley Ho!" as a catchphrase, you say? Flint Cragley, of course! He comes from an advanced Stone Age civilization called the Land of the Cragnons. There they broadcast a program, "Flint Cragley's Cragtrotter," which stars Flint Cragley, is directed by Flint Cragley, and was made possible by producer...Flint Cragley.'

One last fact, in japanase his name is: "Tankenka Debiddo", translated is Explorer David; likely a reference to the Scottish explorer "David Livingstone". Yehah, that guy 👇

In French his name is: Indiana Crag. In Italian his name is Cromagno Jones, translated: Cragnon Jones. Super difficult to guess why.

And finally, in Spanish his name is: Roc Sílex, another way to say flint 🙄

Hornfels and Monzo

Hornfels' nameis derived from "hornfels," a type of rock. (A/N: Yehah, now we are all geologists)

In japanese his name is: Henry, a reference to the Welsh journalist famous for exploring Africa during the 19th century, Henry Morton Stanley. (A/N: And now we are also explorers)

In French his name is: Sonolite, from the prefix "sono-" and the suffix used for forming the names of rocks "-lite"

In Italian Audiolito, from "audio" and Italian suffix used for forming the names of rocks "-lito"

In Spanish Marmolito, a masculine adaption of "marmolite". Yehah, you guessed, another kind of rock!

Monzo's name is derived from "monzonite", ANOTHER type of rock.

His name in Japanese is Stanley, reference to the same explorer that Hornfels.

In French: Filmolite, from the masculine adaption of "film" and "-lite" (a suffix used to form names of rocks)

In German: Watzmann, from "wetzen" (to sharpen) and "mann" (man)

In Italian Videolito, from "video" and Italian suffix used to form names of rocks "-lito"

In Spanish: Calizo, meaning "limestone". I'm not even going to bother anymore, I'll just post the image and disappear into a momentary explorer and geologist.

(A/N): And those are all the npc's that I found relevant and interesting enough to make their own chapter. And let's pretend that I haven't posted in more than a week. The thing is, to do certain research I use my Wii game, but I have had problems with the connection and I have not been able to use it, hence the delay. But don't worry, the regular update will be back soon. Also, I'm running out of content to update my researches. So please, if anyone has any ideas/theories/characters/places you would like to know more about, write about it, as the research is coming to an end. But, despite that, I have other equally interesting projects. Still, write me what you think. I say goodbye. Until next time! And I hope you have learned something with these geology classes that I gave you, xd.

#spm #super paper mario #fanart #my researches #dimentio #NPC #Super Paper Mario Researches #Yehah #Not posting for a week #Srry

18 notes · View notes

phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 3 months ago

Text

Hear me out on this one, but what if...

What if when Alastor got to Hell, his father was already an Overlord there? What if he accidentally inherited the first of his abilities and title by going after him in a dogged, mindless fury until he suceeded in tearing the man to shreds?

What if he didn't originally know his father was an Overlord, until the man's informants realised Alastor had arrived and he sent people to Take Him Out Permanently - still furious at his own death and unable to see how his own actions had led to it?

When he died, the chains binding those under him, a modest amount, switched colours and blanked out al thoughts of the previous employer. All the best to ensure that when the man reformed, he couldn't find sympathetic ears amongst his former thralls to overthrown Alastor.

And when he does come back, calling in favours from other moderate powered OVerlords who he was friendly with, and who didn't want some upstart getting it in their head that they could just go about killing any old Overlord...

They were decimated. With each death, it fed more souls to the ravenous radio-enhanced demon, and eventually... the ability to scatter them across the airwaves in agonised perpetuity was finally accessible.

-----

It could be a fun way to look at how swiftly he rose to power.

And all because as a new Sinner with nothing to lose, he could take a death or two in his pursuit of his father's blood once more.

But, the horror and tragedy of the damaged microphone is that it was also the key holding the gates shut to the previously scattered Overlords. With it dysfunctional, the atoms of their souls began to piece slowly back together until each was able to take basic form once more...

And that? That's a whole other nightmare unto itself, especially with his father leading the charge.

Alastor finds himself against a veritable army of former Overlords and the man he hates more than anything, certainly nowhere near as powerful as before... but there are many of them, and he has yet to let anyone know about his little snafu in his fight with Adam.

Alastor is resigned to the reality that the Hotel will simply find a new Overlord to patron it, because there is absolutely no way that Charlotte and her Merry band of Sinners would bother with all the fuss his failure had brought upon them, right?

He already planned his exodus, to create enough of a distraction that the released and ravenous Overlordlings would follow after him to a new location. To leave the hotel be, and hopefully keep them from associating their rage with the inhabitants... he liked to be centre of attention, after all, ha-hah!

"Come along, I killed you all before, what-say we go for round two, hmmm?" he mocks and goads and cajoles, leading them without their notice. Like the metaphorical pied piper if the rats were all ready to tear his face off with various magical powers.

It was taking every ounce of strength he had left to play this so casually. The collar at his throat was burning in Her displeasure as he pulled away from the place he was ordered... but would She not prefer her daughter safe and well, as requested, than harmed by his mistakes?

He was certain Vox was watching this now, likely at full mast, the little sadist. It wouldn't be long before a smug entreaty from the picture box came, an offering to rejoin the Vees... and, damn it all, if Alastor wasn't at least entertaining the idea like a much disliked thrice-removed aunt that had arrived on his doorstep unexpectedly.

Four overlords could plow through this lot without a second thought, and perhaps Vox could help him with his broken staff... they were both technologically based beings after all. He had to have some idea how to fix the foci.

As he dodged and weaved, unleashing poppets and cackling aloud in a great display of toying with those baying for his blood, the Radio Demon could feel himself falling short. If he could get them past the bounds of the city, to one of the remote broadcast stations... it would be isolated enough to unleash whatever he could.

And more importantly, for whatever defeat he may incur to not be within view of a camera. No use giving the picture box a new video to fantasise over for the rest of eternity.

The musing leaves him open to an unexpected blast from the side, taking out two of his tendrils and unbalancing the overlord. The curse he lets out is more jumbled static than anything else as he hits the ground, the impact to his chest momentarily forcing his mind blank from the lancing agony.

A hand fists the front of his shirt to drag him upright, even as tell-tale blood begins to pool from within the fabric to the immense amusement of his accoster. "Well now, boy, looks like you picked another fight you couldn't win before we even got back, hunh?"

That familiar, hated voice distorted through inhuman features. Families normally tended to share characteristics when they landed, with a few exceptions... in this case, Alastor hoped he took after his maman wherever she rested amongst the Winners.

Because his father was some horrific wasp-humanoid abombination. It had been disgusting to see him the first time, in the flesh, and far worse to feel the potency of his venom as it burned like liquid fire through your veins. He'd been an overlord through fear... not unlike the man he'd been in life.

And once more, he had the upper hand.

"Should've beaten the bitch to death before she welped you, boy." He buzzed, and bit down on the tendril that fought to shove him back. "Not getting away that easy this time. We had time to talk, once we got our selves back, and I think we've just about managed to pin down all your little tricks."

"Oh?" Alastor goads, grinning, as he dissolves into shadow. Or, that was the plan, a female former overlord hurled a blinding white-cold net over his body. The thread was fragile, but the light burned... he'd hated facing her at full power, but even now her little tricks held a sharp sting.

A third of his cadre of displeased overlords stepped forwards, scattering a powder over his incoporeal form that felt like being submerged in a fizzing bottle of soda. And with a sharp popping sensation, Alastor was once more physical and in the flesh; his claws snapping the binding threads easily as he snarled.

"What an adorable little trick you have learned there, Dendamosia... wherever did you get," he paused, licking at a stray piece of powder on his lip and thinking. "...screaming hydrophant pollen and-... is that a hint of hellboar tusk?- at such short notice. Those are obscenely expensive in this Ring right now."

"...don't I fuckin' know it. But it was worth every penny, cause I dun gotcha, smartmouth. And I reckon we'd all like a word with y'all, if ya dun playing hide'n'seek now." Dendamosia snarks back. A very strange overlord, she used to spit tobacco at such speeds he could take a thrall's head off when they displeased her. A very unsanitary fight to the death that one... Alastor had never quite managed to get the suit clean and had given it to Niffty for her crafts.

"Well, I was attempting to lead us to a level playing field just beyond the city with a few rubble piles we can use for our purposes, but here will do as well, I assume." Alastor beams, magnanimous. "However, if you can limit destruction to a four street radius in either direction, we will thankfully avoid drawing the attention of Carmilla and Zestial, whose territories exist in those directions. I'm sure you can recall how little those two like to fight at short notice?"

"The old guy and that uppity bird who thought she could deal weapons to real men? Hah, you think we couldn't handle them on a bad day?" His father goads again, crowding into Alastor's space in a way that is trying to trigger some truly horrific memories from childhood that Alastor is frantically keeping a lid on.

"Carmilla is the best weapons merchant in the city, in multiple rings in fact... she surpassed your paltry efforts into the area decades ago. You would do well to treat her with the respect she is due..." Alastor replied, narrowing his eyes and dodging a poorly-tossed knife. He Tsked, it wasn't even an angelic weapon, what was the thrower thinking?

"You think I care? Once I get my power back, I'll put her back in her place as both an Overlord and a woman. Might even teach those pretty little girls a'hers to be good homemakers... get rid of all those fancy airs and booksmarts she let them get. Lets the rabble have ideas above their station... but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you... boy?"

"Intriguing. I dare you to say that to her face... or indeed to any of the Overlords close to Carmilla, they will fillet you alive and I shall be simply overjoyed to watch it happen. Why I suspect dear Rosie will keep you alive and regnerating for a good century or so in her larder, just on principle!"

"There you go again, always hiding behind women!" Snarls his father, clearly not noticing the way some of the freed Overlords behind him had started to frown in his direction. They wanted Alastor dead, of course, but... this man was clearly not the mouthpiece for all of them, and some of his ideas seemed like they were going to be a problem in future negotiations.

"Seeing women as people with their own thoughts and ideas is not hiding behind them. It is merely being human, you misogynistic fool. But your whole life was made onthe backs of others, with minimal effort towards any success or accolade you received, there was an underpaid person beneath you who deserved it more. You were born to look down on anyone who did not share your wealth, status, colour, sex or ideology... and the world started to pass you by, didn't it Father?" Alastor said, latching on to the other man's lapels with his fist and gouging bloody furrows in the flesh below as he expanded.

"You always had to have control, and what you did to the indentured servants and the workers in your so-called care was deplorable. But you couldn't help yourself, could you? You may have been born to a higher class, but you never had any yourself. And that made you angry, a small-cocked rooster strutting about the henhouse, always shouting about his importance and growing frustrated by diminishing applause at your own ingenuity."

He hisses as his father begins to bite at the hand holding him, and it aches. The other overlords hurling different weaponry and blasts of power his way, as he unleashed murderous poppets without restraint upon them.

"...you would beat people, even to death, for daring to not bow and scrape before you for the slightest thing. Your beliefs were already crumbling to dust, as was your reputation, by the time it came to light how many bastards you'd forced on the local women... or how many were found dead by so-called mysterious means when the law started to ask questions. The men you assaulted always dying of intriguing accidents, how convenient."

Unease is stirring amongst some of those aiming to attack alongside his Father. Some were cruel and capricious, human life meant nothing... but most still had a flicker of disgust for something like the wasp Sinner.

Alastor laughed, fighting to hold onto his form as the combined assult and venom, exhaustion and angelic essence, wore down the last vestiges of his abilities.

"And to find you down in Hell attempting to rearrange the world to your own ideology again... unsurprising, uninspired. An empire run by clerks and the underlings, and you on your big boy throne, forcing your thralls to give constant adulation so you feel like a 'real man'. Well father, I strongly suspect you wouldn't know what that is if a dictionary struck you in the face."

"Alright, I've had just about enough of you. Think it's about time you learned who's really in charge round about these parts, hmm?" With a whistle that seemed mechanically impossible given his wasp-like mouth, a burning length of divine cord lasso'd about Alastor's free wrist.

And a second coiled about his throat, giving some of the stronger overlords below something to pull the titan off-balance with. Alastor crashes to one knee, forced to drop his father in order to steady himself. The bastard hits the pavement and rolls.

Alastor snarls, runes filling the darkening air as he pools power to open an eldritch portal of tentacles to hopefully force the others. back once more. He manages one only half the size he'd hoped for, but it was still enough to take a good half-dozen of his pursuers off-guard as tendrils began to tear them limb from limb.

His vision doubles, triples as the strain of it all finally forces him back to regular form.

The disgust that roils in his stomach at his father's triumphant laughter. As if anything here today was his doing outside of a few stings. All the other overlords had tried, but the bastard had stood back and merely accepted the applause as his god-given right.

Stars burst behind his eyes as a heavy blow lands across his skull, with another swinging back the other way almost immediately. Alastor's mind reels, but he's not about to go out on his knees like this.

With a determined shove, he rises to his feet, flaring his claws to gouge out chunks of the closest assailant. Laughing at their screams echoed about the area, hot blood spraying over his lips delectably.

He surges forwards towards a ferret-like former overlordd and tears his throat out in a gorey mess, spitting the chunk aside.

No powers, no way out... but not going down without a fight.

Just for a fleeting moment, Alastor does hope that perhaps one of the other Overlords or even his royal Lowness will have the capacity to utterly destroy this unprecedented influx of grizzled and furious overlords, in his stead. It would not do to have them destroy the delicate balance that had been carved in Pride since the last of the Big Names had been overthrown.

Ah, perhaps that insipid little hotel had changed the Overlord for the better if he was already thinking of others in his last moments. Someone's arm tore away from tehri body wetly as they stabbed at him. A tendril curling about the throat of the angler-fish overlord who used to hold Zeezi's territory... very odd way of doing business, that one. He crushed her larynx and barely avoids his own being bitten by a serpentine fellow intent upon getting his revenge.

Throughout it all, Alastor could feel the way his father hovered at the periphery, grinning and drinking in the scene of his revenge. If only Alstor could take him with him...

Something slams sharply into his back, a crimson point emerging between his lower ribs, as he suddenly finds it hard to breathe.

Alastor hits the pavement on his knees, almost listing to one side, but a familiarly cruel grip on his antler forces him to remain upright.

"Looks like you lost, you miserable halfbreed... but on your knees is a good look for you. Least you knew your place in the end." His father beams, malice in his eyes that bordered on manic glee as he took his revenge. He spat at the ground between Alastor's knees, "I'm going to erase all trace of you from this place, no one will remember your name or think of you, when I'm done. What friends you had will be hunted and removed until no trace of you exists. Think that's fair enough for what you did to me."

The radio static is thick and garbled as he fights for words amongst the cloying blood in his throat. "If y-y-yo-u can, gooooo ahead then."

The hand on his antler tightens, twisting it violently.

"With pleasure." snarls the wasp, the rasp of unsheathed weaponry accompanying his raised arm. Ah, how quaint... he did remember to bring an angelic blade after all...

Alastor stared right into those hateful eyes, and found himself utterly devoid of anything much in that moment. Death imminent, body singing a chorus of different pangs, aches and pains... but emotionally flat.

And then his father chokes in surprised agony as something struck him violently from above. The force knocking the sinner several feet back into a nearby building, and allowing Alastor to crumple to the ground.

"Hey, that's my daughter's emotional-support-cannibal-overlord!" Lucifer decrees, hovering above them all with horns out and wings flared. Charlie jumps down from his arms to land on the wasp-like Sinner, claws out.

"V-ven...om..." Alastor garbles a warning. But he needn't have bothered, for Charlie had already grabbed the mandibles and torn them right out of his father's face in veritable confetti canon of viscera. Vaggie pinning the arcing abdomen to the pavement with her spear before the bastard's secondary barb could be used.

If he'd had the energy for it, Alastor would have laughed. There was something deliciously ironic about his father being disarmed and dismantled by these two warrior women. The rage in those eyes as they fell on Alastor, how they tried to shift the blame for even the man's own weakness as the Princess and Consort-to-be mercilessly turned him to paste, just wonderful to behold.

Bullets sprayed in focused bursts, as Angel Dust parted through the crowd of former overlords. They were powerful, but not 'cop an angelic bullet and live through it' at this point. Watching them scatter was intriguing, and slightly alarming.

Before he can find a way to voice this, a boundary of pure electricity springs up around the area, allowing Angel, the delightfully fiery Miss Cherri Bomb, Husker and Niffty to start picking the adversaries off one by one. Lucifer was busy menacing with his presence alone, and keeping an eye on Charlie in the throng.

Alstor is relatively certain that he saw Vox materialise a few feet away with someone else, but that would require turning his head.

He huffs a tired, wet laugh as Desdamonia's head rolls comically by. And then Rosie was there, sharp eyes assessing the damage and making decisions. Vox stood at her back, keeping an eye on the fray and frying anyone who got too close.

"Well, this is quite the mess." She surmises, and dabs at his face with a kerchief, it coming back quite thoroughly ruined with gore. "Ah, you are quite inconsiderate Alastor... when you promised I could eat you if you died, I expected at least some quality control on the meat. This is a bloody, poorly marinated mess."

"Apologies kssshkt... for the... zzzt... poor fare..." he snatches the words from the airwaves as best he could, and she strokes his hair.

"Nevermind that now. I suspect you will enjoy the sinner meat I just had imported in, they were part dolphin apparently, and I understand the flavour reminds one of tuna." She speaks of nothing at all, clearly just keeping his awake and aware, despite the desperate urge to he feels to just fall back into the soothing darkness behind his eyes.

A hand smacks his cheek. "Oh you old timey fucker, you don't get to die before I kill you!" grumbles a picture box about an inch from his face, which is quite the disconcerting sight to open one's eyes to.

"...Vox."

"Yeah, it's me, you idiot. Why the hell didn't you just come to Vee Tower when this lot were after you, I would have helped you! Hells, Velvette wanted to rip the wasp's head off when he heard his bullshit about women... she's running a slander campaign on the former overlords so even if someone escapes, they can't get a clawhold in anywhere." Vox was rambling.

Where had Rosie gone? Because he didn't recall transferring laps, and yet...

"She's gone to grab the King, the guy's a little too into 'helicopter parenting' but we need him over here to keep your sorry ass alive. Oh, well you might wanna hang on an extra minute, because I think she just spotted Bantuin, the Hyena Overlord that used to always used to run slander campaigns against her in his magazine before he went missing. Yeah, oof, Rosie's pulled one of his legs off and he's choking on it..."

"Vox?"

"What? Oh, yeah, look you stupid fucker..." Despite the tone, Alastor's head was gently assisited to look over what remained of the battlefield that still fought or at least twitched with some form of life. "All these people came to save your ass, and it wouldn't have come to you nearly getting killed for good if you'd just said something back at the hotel. Or hells, come to me. I wouldn't have even asked for any sort of kinky stuff as a thank you..."

That got him an exhausted glare.

"Yeah, yeah... I know. Still love you, even after all the times we fought, but you were my friend first. Even when I'm pissed at Vel or Val, I'd still defend them with my life... and you? You picked me up the day I fell into Hell. I would have helped. Even fucking Lucifer himself is down here with a vested interest in keeping your infuriating self alive."

"...very strange..."

"It's called being cared about, Al. But given what your fuckin' dad over there was saying, and holy shit do we need to get you some proper therapy for that mess, it's not hard to imagine why you struggle to trust anyone. Or love them."

The television sighs, one hand carding through red hair matted with blood, and the other maintaining pressure on the-... wait, when did the blade get removed?

"They do, you know. The weirdoes at the hotel... the minute I realised what was happening and reached out to the Princess, they hauled ass to come to your rescue. Rosie didn't even bother to change out of her nightgown when she heard, and let me port us both here through the electricity." He then smacks Alastor across the forehead, lightly, albeit with a ringing echo born of previous blows. "Don't you ever fucking pull something like this again and try to scramble my cameras to hide your trail, it took ages to work out where you were heading because of that."

"Oooh, looking a little worse for wear there, Deer Daddy..."

Alastor's stomach clenched at the approach of the other Vee, who was languidly smoking and firing at the penned former overlords. His eyes cold behind those shades, following a particular body as it tried desperately to escape.

"...Valen...tino. Why are y-oou here?"

"Well, ciervo, for one you have my high-class whore on the playing field and I want to keep him alive. Secondly, it was a bit funny to watch Vox frantic like that... and thirdly, I came to see if someone specific escaped. Always wanted another chance to end them, if I won't be stepping on your hooves to do so?"

Alastor knew exactly who the moth meant, someone even more sadistic than Valentino, who had used his thralls until they died on his-... ah, well, it was impolite to discuss. He'd been sickened to learn of the Overlord, and gone out of his way to kill the 'pimp' at his earliest convenience.

The Radio Demon had freed the thralls there, uncertain what to do with so many well-trained sex workers who all seemed to think they also had to 'serve him'. It had been wildly unnerving. Instead, he'd talked to them and found employment or new contracts for the majority.

He didn't recall Valentino amongst the throng, but there had been a few winged ones. And Overlord powers gave you the ability to shift form, so perhaps he had been there.

"Make him... suffer... as you wish." He rasped, finally gaining his own voice back. "And remember... what it was like to... be on his...leash... when you look after your... 'bitches'."

A subtle reminder, as both their eyes strayed to Angel Dust, covered in blood and crowing in delight at the slaughter alongside Husk and Cherri.

"...I hear you." Valentino replies, and crouches a tad too close for Alastor's liking, exhaling that dizzying smoke right into his face as he coughs. "Here... it'll help numb things until you start to regenerate properly."

Alastor wasn't going to thank the moth for it, but he could feel some of the tension draining from his discomfort as the smoke curled in his lungs. The moth patted him on the hand, in a far too familiar way, and disappeared in the direction of Him.

"Did you want me to do that?" Vox asks, boldly running a thumb over Alastor's cheek now. A slow motion that didn't trigger the normal instinct to bite. "Make the pain go away, I mean?"

The eye loomed large, swirling in question.

"I-... it's never... worked before?" Alastor manages, his grin tightening as he watches dear Vagatha spin in mid-air to launch a cackling well-armed Niffty across the heads of the ramining and right into a tall dinosaur sinner that screamed as she carved a way inside his chest.

"Yeah, but you've never been this fucked up before... or partially elevated on Val's stuff, so... it might?" Vox offered, shrugging. Taking implicit permission from the way Alastor tilted his neck slightly to lock eyes properly.

"Uh, okay, shit..." Vox was flustered. It wasn't like they were about to kiss, but he sure acted as if they were. "Alastor, you're going to feel tired and weightless, and move to a place where the pain can't touch you... BUT not like, die. Okay? Just put it out of mind and a bit to the left, but don't straight up die on me."

The words felt soothing, and rooked no argument from the exhausted overlord, as he let himself drift.

At some point, other voices came closer once more, and he was lifted... but he let his eyes close properly as true sleep came for him. Blotting out the soft golden glow being bestowed.

Perhaps there was something to this whole caring and allowing vulnerability thing, after all...

--------

Sobbing was the first thing that stirred him, and it became apparent that whatever soft surface he was laid upon... he was NOT the only occupant.

Normally, he was a tad picky over who he would allow in his space... but today it seemed that he didn't much care for that.

Niffty was curled into a ball atop his head, one hand clutched about his antler like a lifeline as she slept. He felt the tickle of Kiki's tail as she curled up to one side of his throat, brushing against his face in her slumber.

Speaking of cats... a secondary rumble came from the greyish winged loaf to his left, just pressed against one arm as if by accident. Purring away. And a shade further than than, a long pink streak primarily curled about the cat sinner, with a few fingertips pressed against Alastor's clothed arm.

Head pillowed on Husk, Charlotte had his waist in a deathgrip, as if he'd disappear if the slumbering princess didn't anchor him to this realm hard enough. Naturally, playing the big spoon to dear Charlotte, was Vagatha, who also seemed to be touching him somewhere around the leg region.

Something else was sprawled across his lower legs, several something actually, at least one felt especially spherical. He tried to summon his shadow to report back, but it giggled at him in response.

Hard to lift one's head with Niffty perched precariously atop it, after all.

What he could see, upon his other side, was Rosie. Half-seated on the mattress edge and slanting slowly across the bedhead, a hand on his shoulder even in slumber.

Alastor was starting to feel like a community garden project, with some many different people insistent upon being in his space today.

And that was before he glanced down at the clawed blue hand resting on his chest and realised the other person to his right was Vox, who appeared to be fast asleep seated at the side of the bed. He was face-down on the mattress, and that was somewhat amusing.

Less amusing, was the realisation that the lanky purple form sprawled over three of his armchairs was, in fact, Valentino. With Miss Velvette curled on his chest, her phone dinging obnoxiously even when she wasn't interacting with it.

However, what really and truly nearly made him dislodge Niffty and catapault her through the ceiling, was the sudden realisation that Lucifer was sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed, arms crossed over his white-clad chest and a nebulous stare aimed right at Alastor.

Before he can even think of a good opening line, the King stands, and hovers above the mattress so Alastor doesn't have to crane his neck to see him.

"Alastor, glad to see you awake again so soon. I think we need to have a little chat about what happened out there... and how we make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Majesty, I assure you that it wasn't my intention for the inamtes to release themselves from my broadcast... if I can just repair my miscrophone, I shall be able to seal them back inside once more."

"Oh, this old thing? Yeah, Husk helped us work out that we needed it to lock them away again and I snapped it back together on the battlefield. It's got a few new wards of my own invention, so we shouldn't have a repeat of this fucking nightmare again." The King says, manifesting the now whole foci and dropping it into Alastor's free hand. "But that's not what I meant."

The overwhelming joy and gratitude bubbling up in Alastor's throat died out as a sense of dread arose in its place. Ah, is this the part where he'd be thrown out of the Hotel after all? His ears snapped back, making Niffty giggle in her sleep.

"Oh stop with the panicking, as annoying as you can be when you try to out-dad me or whatever that whole thing we do is, I'm not about to toss you out of the hotel. No, I want you to promise me that next time things go absolutely sideways for you like Adam nearly cutting you in half or breaking the thing holding back the worst of the worst in some weird dimensional prison... you tell someone."

The King was glaring down now, whispering so angrily it felt like being yelled at by the world's sternest librarian. "You know what? I changed my mind, even if you think you've got a cold coming on or just need a day off, you're going to say something. Because none of this needed to happen. Char-Char's been sobbing in her sleep she was so fucking worried about your stupid red self. If you'd said something, I could have patched up that wound, and fixed your stick thing. Or just been able to capture and contain those Overlord guys until we could find a better option..."

The angel pauses, sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. "But I get why you didn't, or at least didn't think you could... I heard the wasp guy. And now I kind of understand why you've been such a huge pest about always wedging yourself between me and Charlie... but I'm not like that, and I'm sorry that you had to deal with someone like that. It explains soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much about you, actually."

"Sire..." Alastor half-growls, feeling insulted, but pauses as the rumble of sound appears to rouse half the occupants of the room. "I appreciate your... support, and the return of my foci, but please do refrain from psychoanalysis at this time. It's been quite the day..."

The next words choked off as Charlie's delighted 'Al!' was accompanied by what felt like his waist being turned to powder.

"Hey, the Strawberry Pimp's alive!" Angel yawned, stretching and popping six different arms all at once as he multitasks. Scritching husk behind the ears, untangling Charlie, and patting Al on whichever part of arm he could reach. "Glad t'see you ain't double-dead... man, those guys were assholes. And I thought my pops was bad..."

"Well, do let me know if yours is down here. His majesty has improved my staff, so I may be able to add him to the studio audience, if you would like..."

"...might take you up on that, Smiles. How you feelin'? You looked retty fucking rough when we found you... and that was before the little stripsearch where we found what Adam did to ya."

"You WHAT?" Radio feedback startled the rest of the room awake. Cherri Bomb, Fat Nuggets, and Frank the Egg Boi shot awake and rolled off of him with the aussiest of curses.

"Calm down, just ya shirt, really. Niffty took it to launder it, and once you were healed and clean, I grabbed something out of my dresser for you. Couldn't work out how t'get into your room... Spooky Lite over there was guarding it a bit too fierce." Angel points at the shadow, which shrugs.

"Fair enough. I-... what am I wearing?"

Looking down, Alastor felt an eye twitch at the shirt which so blatantly advertised that he was 'Hard to Kill, Easy to Fuck'.

Vox, awakened by the commotion, clearly registered the shirt for the first time and started to cackle loudly; followed by the other Vees as they groggily returned to consciousness.

His distortion flared automatically as Velvette attempted a covert photo. He thoroughly enjoyed her little 'Awww, spoilsport.'

"Ah, excuse me I must have nodded off!" Rosie said, righting herself. She must have popped home because her attire was immaculate as always. She sat upright and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm afraid that, now I know all is well, I need to get back to Cannibal Town... otherwise it might very well burn to ash in my abscence. Susan said to give you her best wishes that next time they 'aim better to get your shrivelled little heart', my deer."

They cackled together at is, Alastor's mind already whirring on revenge options, as his friend left the room with a soft wave.

A dishevelled Husk stretched, smacked Angel and Alastor in the face with his wings, and then froze. "Uh, my bad... forgot where we were?"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Well, I will ignore that little incident because the purring was rather delightful, dear Husker. Almost as enthusiastic as little Kiki here."

"He PURRS?" Angel shouts, looking like a kid on Christmas. "Oooooh-ho-ho! I need to hear that... c'mon kitty, do the thing!"

"...why did we save your insufferable ass again?" Husk mumbled, to Alastor's delight. Trying to look dignified as Angel squished his fluffy cheeks, and Cherri Bomb joined in, trying to find the right button to get him to purr.

"Oh you wound me Husker, do you not enjoy my company?"

He narrowly avoided being slapped with the feathered tail.

Niffty finally woke up and rolled down into Alastor's lap, where she was scooped up by Vaggie, giggling madly. "Morning Sir! I got to stab so many people, did you see?!"

"I did, dear, I did. You were very vicious!"

Vox stood up and cracked his spine, "Ugh, sleeping like that fucks with my spine... it's like I crashed at my desk..."

"Want me to help?" Valentino purrs, and gets a warning look from just about everyone. He rolls his eyes, "Not that I wouldn't be opposed to a little audience for that, this isn't the right mood. Besides, I'm actually pretty good at massage and cracking joints... with this many limbs, you have to be."

It seemed like Angel and Charlie finally registered Valentino's presence, and shrank back. The moth noticed, rolled his eyes and made his way to the bedside to extend a hand to Alastor.

"He didn't die for hours, and I made him feel it every second. So, perhaps it's only fair that we make that little favour a deal..." Valentino says, directly to the deer, who takes his hand. As usual, there's a blinding array of green and plush pink, before it settles. "...hadn't had to think about that guy in a long time."

"...keep in mind how close you came to following his path, and make a different choice. Or I will co-... hmmm, how can I best rephrase this?" Alastor pauses, knowing his audience. "Or you shall be part of the audience as well."

Uncharacteristically, Valentino had a very solemn expression on his face. "If I'm ever that bad... you have my permission."

"Excellent! Well, if all the melodrama has concluded for today, can we please go and get something to eat? Lounging in bed feels so wasteful in such a nice day, and there are so many different flavours of sinner to try."

"Cute, but that whole evil overlord schtick just won't cut it anymore, Al, I think they've gone full duckling and imprinted on you." Vox advises, putting a cautious arm around Al's shoulders.

For the sake of the audience, Alastor allows his ears to drop. "Ah, blast. I don't suppose eating one of them while the others watch will work, hmmm?"

"Oooh, depends on the definition of-..." Valentino adds, at the same time Angel pipes up with, "Now that could be some interesting ratings if we-..."

Alastor buries his face in his hands.

"Hah, realised how fucked you are, have ya?" Cherri grins, cheekily. "Decided we like havin' you around, mate, so good luck getting rid of us now!"

He plucks her from the floor with a sudden tendril and mimes tossing her out the nearest window, much to the cyclop's obvious shrieking delight. Alastor forestalls the incoming iinnuendoes by raising a finger in the general direction of Valentino. "Don't. say. anything."

"Voxxy, I know you're glad your old boyfriend or whatever is alive, but we got a press conference in twenty minutes at the Tower. We gotta zap-zap ourselves over there if we wanna get freshened up in time..." Velvette chimes in, her phone going ballistic. She shrugs at the assembled. "Price of success, innit?"

"Thanks for the reminder, babydoll." Valentino says, scooping her up and peppering the other Vee with kisses as she giggled and half-heartedly swatted at him. "...I'm sure we'll see you at the tower another time, Deer Daddy, but we need to borrow our TV back for now... come along Voxxy."

Rolling his eyes, Vox places a brief peck on Alastor's cheek, and turns away as electricity gathers about him. "Alright, tuck in, the wiring here is ancient so it'll be a squeeze til we hit the mainlines outside." he warns, enveloping the other two and in a blink, they're gone.

"You and the fucking tv? How does that even work? He's a flat screen?!" Angel and Cherri are yelling, it's hard to pick out individual voices.

Alastor suddenly feels exhausted. "Not presently, no. We were once... but, we had a disagreement. And as to the specifics of his form, it works the same way anything does down here... magic, I assume. I have seen the man eat an entire roast without issue, even when the question of how or why he needs to eat is at the forefront of everyone's minds."

"...and his tongue?" An eyebrow waggling spider prompts, before Husk whips him with a wing.

A glint of mischief in his eyes, Alastor merely smiles back. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Cherri made a noise that sounded like 'Oooooooooooooooooooh!" and was subsequently smacked by the other wing.

"Stop encouraging him!"

"I'm really glad you're okay, Al..." Charlie chimes in, her smile wavering as if on the verge of tears. "I was so worried... by the time we got to you, there was so much blood..."

"Yeah, you fucking idiot, we got super worried about you. Thought we'd have to find a new Overlord to sponsor the hotel or something." Vaggie joked, nervously.

"...based on the mild haranguing I received from his Majesty before you all awoke, it appears my attempts to minimise damage and distress were ineffectual." Alastor concedes, one of his ears twitching rhythmically in the way he often bounced his knee when feeling chagrined.

"If ya dad is a fucking psycho who broke out of the magic radio prison you shoved him in and rallied an army of overlords t'kill ya... just say so next time? We can handle it, alright?" Angel interjects, fiercely.

"Exactly, you need to trust that we can and will help you if something is wrong. Same way we trust you..." Charlie adds, and it feels like a kick to the heart to hear such a thing. "And especially about the whole Adam thing, what were you thinking keeping that to yourself?!"

She was clearly fighting tears.

"Because I suspected you would take it personally, like this, that I failed to ward off the First Man dear Charlotte." Alastor admits, the words felt like they'd been dragged out by wild horses, so unusued to sharing honestly after a century in hell. "But it was in no way your fault that my fight did not pan out in the manner I had planned..."

"That is true," Charlie replies diplomatically, "But if we'd known you were hurt or your staff-... fucky? thing was broken, we could have stopped all of this. We wouldn't have nearly lost you today."

"Foci, dear."

"Microphone thing, whatever. Listen, Alastor, this whole place works if we all trust each other... so we need you to at least try." Vaggie says, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"...fine, I will... think on it." He compromises, not sure what answer he could give that they would want to hear.

Charlie relaxes, as does the remainder of the room.

"Oooh, can we have pancakes for breakfast?" Niffty yells, far too close to people's ears for that volume, and not caring in the least. At least a few sinners side-eye his Majesty, who grins in reponse before snapping his fingers.

A dessert cart topped with pancakes, jams, syrups, ice cream and all manner of fruit materialises near the armchairs and small coffee table. The motifs about the room are starting to tickle something in the back of the Overlord's brain... a lot of white, red, gold... wait that a painting of an apple?

Oh.

Oh no. Was this his little Majesty's room? Alas, he will never live down having been laid to rest in the King's bed, the ex-angel had won this round until such time as Alastor could find a means by which the monarch could recouperate in the Radio Demon's own room.

Possibly, given the lack of concern from the King, Alastor is the only one thinking this way. The only one tallying and keeping track... or perhaps not, he realises, as his majesty raises a single finger, winks and pokes his tongue out.

If it wasn't below his dignity to do so, Alastor would call Charlie's attention to it.

Speaking of the King...

Lucifer has seated himself back on the bed, those sharp eyes are looking at Alastor in anticipation. Hadn't he already thanked the man? Or did he? This morning had been quite the mess... oh, had it only been a night's sleep or was this far more embarrassing than the Overlord had previously realised?

"Well? If we've all learned our lessons about the importance of trust and sharing burdens... is there anything anyone else wants to share with the class?" The smug little prince of lie asks, making a show of shifting his well-starched white collar, not dropping eye contact for even a second.

And Alastor feels his insides grow cold as stone.

Ah. Of course... if the King had laid hands on his to heal him, it would have been immediately obvious.

Charlotte has put her plate down, moving back over to the bed as she glances between Alastor and her father anxiously.

"Al... is there something else you need to tell us?"

"I-..." Blast these feelings of guilt and vulnerability. He looks her dead in the eyes, a hand coming up to activate the collar at his throat, which glows violet in the suddenly silent room. "I may need your assistance with something else... and it involves where your mother has been for these past few years. She-..."

The stitches flare up, cutting off his speech.

Lucifer's face falls, slightly. He'd known a soul claim was there, but... it was like ripping of a bandaid. Fast or slow, the ahce remained in that action.

Charlotte looked like she was about to burst into tears... and then she hugged him. "It's okay Al... we're going to fix this, and get through it, no matter what."

...was this what they called unconditional love?

Hmmm, perhaps it wasn't so horrifying a prospect after all.

---------

END

This was meant to be the first like three headcanon paragraphs and now its hours later with this mess.

Thanks

#hazbin hotel #alastor #backstory concept #what if the other overlords returned and tried to kill him #maybe radiostatic i didnt intend it to aim that way but #characters do what they do sometimes #vox #author is australian and worked so hard to tone down the swearing because thats how convo is out here

9 notes · View notes

simple-seranade · 2 years ago

Note

Now no mythology isn’t without grand and/or tragic romances or great myths. Here’s one.

Tango was normal human known for his grand inventions and creativity. Even the gods relating to his craft could only amit defeat to his better skill. Therefore many gods came to him in order to court him or try to guide him into worshipping them. Many were petty and frought harshly about this. Many promised him Ulimate riches or power or immortality if he chose them. According to the oldest written word of this myth he refused them all content to be mortal in his workshop. He cared not for any of the gods games.

But according to myth that soon changed. He feel in love with a stranger that came to his town. And he was committed to wooing this man with dandelion yellow hair. And hopefully eventually managing to wed him. Now the thing is tango didn’t know that this handsome man that caught his eyes with his kindness was actually a god. He was saint Jim. Now saint Jim wasn’t unaware of the godly competition for a mortal hand. But frankly he was unimpressed and uninterested. Jim never got the appeal of the ego fights the young gods take apart in. No Jim was on one of tests yet again.

So he made sure to be as useless and as weak he could be. A easy target to bully. And most humans tend to not notice the signs of divinity before it’s too late. And frankly jim has emotions. He can be annoyed at humans. But according to this myth! Despite tango frank annoyance at being courted by numerous deities he was rewarded. Some think tango saved him as part of the test. Some others think the test was just kindness.

Whatever it was Jim and tango struck up a friendship and Jim promised him he would reward anything he would want. Soon jim also fell for tango but said nothing of his feelings the longer they spent time together.

Somehow Tango found out about who Jim truly is. Some iterations of the myth have Jim healing a canary with a broken wing as a way tango finds out. And tango asks what jim feels for him. And Jim is honest. And tango asks for his hand. And Jim agrees.

But one of the gods that been trying to get his hand was watching. And didn’t like this fact. Now he wasn’t into the young mortal but he wanted to show every god he was the best. He was the young god Joel. A child compared to the rest of the gods. Young and impulsive.

Therefore he cremated poor tango right when he finally kissed his love the canary. With lighting hailing from the sky. All down to ash.

The sky seeped with Jim. Plants wilted in grief. The wind wailed. And Jim placed his hands into his lover ashes and brought flame.

It slowly morphed into a figurine. He came back. Tango was ascended into godhood and Joel was swiftly punished by his dear brother Grian that was watching it all like he always does. Joel still to this day won’t comment at whatever punishment Grian deemed fit. Soon after tango the new god of creation ingenuity and fire became the lawful consort of the canary. And it’s rumored to be one of the best god marriages out there. There was a time in some cultures that they would burn incense in temples for them to bless marriages and relationships.

YES

Instead of doves released at weddings, the faithful release canaries.

Tango is one of the few gods who started human, and he carrie’s his emotions and experiences with him. a fierce defender of craftsman and those cheated by society, it is said that the most devoted to him can walk through fire without being burned, and his holy flames will protect them from all harm.

Still, due his time being dead, he has a certain… connection with souls. An aspect few see, dark and mysterious and holding flames made not of fire but souls. Screeches in the underground, rotting bones and crumbling cities… he rules over these as well. If you disturb one of these ancient sites under his protection…

well, let’s just say your cremation is free of charge

#team rancher #trafficshipping #tangotek #solidarity gaming #jimmy solidarity #solidaritek #dungeon master tango #double life smp #double life smp au #trafficblr #we should probably make a tag for this #at some point at least #rainbowchaox asks

99 notes · View notes

disastermages · 6 months ago

Text

Draped in Black and Dripping With Love Ch. 1

[read it on ao3]

Bringing a suitcase, however small and out of the way, felt presumptuous, but it’s sitting on the curb by Lan Zhan’s feet now. There’s nothing he can do about it, the taxi has already driven far down the block, the driver refusing to look backwards at him, and the house looms over him, so dark and dilapidated that for a moment, Lan Zhan is almost certain that Wei Ying gave him the wrong address.

It would’ve been an accident if he had, Lan Zhan is sure of it. There’d been a year and a half of silence between them, a frosty nothingness from Wei Ying, and several too humid attempts from Lan Zhan. If Wei Ying ever did reply, it was something short, something cruel, something that teased to give Lan Zhan a taste, only to snatch itself back at the very last moment.

And then Jiang Fengmian died.

It might’ve been easy to try reaching out again if Lan Zhan hadn’t seen Wei Ying at the funeral, but Lan Zhan had caught sight of him sneaking in, the whole of him too skinny, with dark circles under his eyes as he pressed himself against the wall. Yu Ziyuan would’ve thrown him out if she had seen him, they both knew that, it’s why Lan Zhan hadn’t drawn any attention to Wei Ying’s presence, diminished and gaunt, as he melted into the crowd.

That was all it had taken for the ice to melt between them. Wei Ying texted him at all hours now, showing Lan Zhan what he was working on, asking him to cross reference research he found suspicious while he was exorcising spirits.

Wei Ying invited him to his latest restoration progress, that’s what has Lan Zhan standing in front of what might’ve been a splendid manor before it fell to ruin.

They hadn’t seen each other in person since the funeral, there’d been careful distance despite each of their best attempts at bridging that distance. They’d both been clumsy and blunt, Wei Ying still went days without answering Lan Zhan’s messages. It was only the lack of intent and malice that made the difference. Wei Ying always responded eventually, and Lan Zhan tried to tell himself that it was enough. It was a feast compared to the famine from before.

Taking a step closer, Lan Zhan stops in his tracks as something achingly cold brushes through him, freezing for just a moment before he has no choice but to lean over, catching himself on the outer wall of the house, his breath knocked from his chest. He tries to rule things out, he hadn’t been inside of the house, it couldn’t have been a draft through some old and swollen doorway, and summer hadn’t yet released its vicious hold, he’d been sweating on the ride over.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying’s voice, just as loud and warm as ever, chases away Lan Zhan’s reasoning as he forces himself to straighten his back, the breath he’d just gotten back catching in his chest as Wei Ying charges towards him.

The smile on Wei Ying’s face is nearly unforgivable in its beauty, it isn’t fair how it still makes Lan Zhan’s heart seize in his chest, his own mouth falling open. He needs to say something, anything, but the words tangle and knot themselves on his tongue.

Six months had changed Wei Ying, his skin held the sunkissed glow that it used to when they were younger. He’d filled himself out again, his chest looking broad and comfortable, if only Lan Zhan were allowed to rest his cheek against it. Lan Zhan wants to touch him. He wants to commit those changes to memory under his fingertips, he wants to lean himself against Wei Ying and feel his heartbeat fluttering under bone and muscle. Lan Zhan wants to peer up at Wei Ying through his eyelashes and memorize the angle of his jaw with both his eyes and his teeth.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sighs, forcing himself to return to reality as he digs his nails into the palms of his hands, “I am glad to see you.” He’s glad to see Wei Ying looking healthy, he’s glad to see Wei Ying’s smile, he’s glad to see Wei Ying standing in front of him without glaring or pretending he doesn’t exist.

The gate, old and once ornate, had creaked miserably when Wei Ying had pulled it open, but even that hadn’t kept Lan Zhan from daring to take just another step closer, his eyes flicking away from the force of Wei Ying’s smile. When they were younger, Lan Zhan thought that he might burn underneath the glow of it, but now that they’re older, Lan Zhan is almost sure of it.

He’d looked away, so Lan Zhan doesn’t have a chance to stop Wei Ying from picking up his suitcase for him, the muscles of his forearm flexing and making Lan Zhan’s teeth ache so deeply he almost forgets to try to insist that he can carry his own luggage, but by the time the words leave his mouth, Wei Ying is grabbing onto his wrist and pulling him along. Just like he used to do, as if they hadn’t just had the distance of almost two years between them.

“I didn’t think you were serious when you said you’d come up, so I rushed to get the water heater installed before you got here today. Cold water’s fine for me, but I wouldn’t make you deal with it too,” Wei Ying chatters as they walk up the winding path to the house. Wei Ying pulls him over cracks in the paths and overgrown patches of grass and weeds with expertise and patience, his smile unwavering. “The yard’s still a mess, I know, but I promise the inside looks better, that’s the part I’ve been working on the most.”

“Cold water would not have stopped me from coming.” Lan Zhan answers belatedly, stubborn humidity creeps up his back as he turns and looks around. The feeling of eyes on him isn’t new, especially in places like this, but usually, Lan Zhan can pinpoint where the feeling is coming from. He feels as though there are eyes on them from every angle here. The shadows all around them don’t help, every so often, it looks as though a hand is reaching through dappled sunlight, only to disappear once Lan Zhan blinks.

Wei Ying fiddles with the door, leaning his shoulder against it and trying to negotiate their way inside when Lan Zhan draws closer to him without a second thought, the movement protective as his eyes focus in on a particularly dark shadow. This one doesn’t disappear, if anything, it seems to hold Lan Zhan’s gaze, at least until the door gives way and Wei Ying stumbles, nearly taking Lan Zhan with him. Another cold wind gusts past the both of them and Wei Ying straightens, propping the door open with his shoulder as he ushers Lan Zhan through the door, floorboards whining and groaning underneath their feet. The door shuts behind them far easier than it opened, but rather than take in the house, Lan Zhan glues his eyes firmly onto Wei Ying.

He’s only a shadow at first, but once his eyes adjust to the light, Lan Zhan can see the excitement in his smile, the light in his eyes growing brighter, “There’s a lot of them here, but most of them are residual.” Wei Ying had gotten into an argument with Lan Zhan’s uncle once, he’d argued that residual spirits were little more than impressions burned into a place, so there was little point in exorcising them. Lan Qiren had chased Wei Ying out of the classroom for that particular argument. All spirits were meant to be exorcized, they could not be left to wander the world lest they turn malicious.

“And the intelligent spirits?” Lan Zhan asks carefully, casting his eyes around the front room of the manor. Truly, it did look very nice, Wei Ying’s hard work was already shining through, the fresh paint and new light fixtures almost betrayed the nature of the house. Even now, a chill clings to Lan Zhan’s arms and face, he thinks about wrapping his arms around himself but decides against it.

Instead, he decides to look around, to take in more of Wei Ying’s work, his eyes landing on what he believes to be restored hardwood floors.

“There were more of them when I first got here, but most of them have moved on by now.” Wei Ying waves his hand as he explains, setting down Lan Zhan’s suitcase for a moment to tighten his ponytail, “A few of them are still refusing to leave, though, but they aren’t why I invited you here.” That stops Lan Zhan where he stands, his fingers pressed against the bannister of the stairs. He wants to ask why he was invited at all if he wasn’t invited to help Wei Ying with the spirits. Did he expect Lan Zhan to help with renovations? Did he want him to help stage the house for sale now that it was very nearly finished?

He wouldn’t have invited Lan Zhan just because he wanted to see him, would he? Before Lan Zhan can think to verbalize any of those questions, Wei Ying is moving again, throwing a look over his shoulder before he disappears around a corner. Lan Zhan has no choice but to follow him, Wei Ying is the only other living person in the house.

Wei Ying makes a game of making Lan Zhan follow him through the house, rounding corners so quickly Lan Zhan only catches the bobbing of his ponytail, his red flannel clad shoulder, the edge of his sneaker, or the warm sound of his laughter. Eventually he leads Lan Zhan to a kitchen with new flooring and new paint, but the old cabinets cling to the walls, looking far too dark to match. Wei Ying hasn’t gotten to them yet, maybe he wanted Lan Zhan to help him pick out new ones, or stain and a new countertop to refurbish the ones already here.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls quietly as he lingers in the doorway. He half expects Wei Ying to keep the game going, to make him chase him further, but Wei Ying already has his back to him, pulling two mismatched mugs from upper cabinets with squealing hinges. Questions burn Lan Zhan’s lips and set fire to his tongue. There’s too much he wants to know, too many answers he wants to demand from Wei Ying here and now. He wants to know where Wei Ying was for the year and a half he disappeared and what he was doing, if he had anyone to look after him then, or if he’d fended for himself. He wants to know what Wei Ying was thinking when he left, what he thought about while he was gone, who he thought about while he was gone.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying answers back without turning around. If he had, he might’ve seen too much, he might’ve seen all the questions buried behind Lan Zhan’s eyes, he might’ve guessed why Lan Zhan agreed to come here without ever asking what Wei Ying wanted him for. It never felt fair, the way Wei Ying could read him so clearly when no one else could.

To the rest of the world, Lan Zhan had always been impassive and cold. Wei Ying had taken being Lan Zhan’s friend as a challenge and, little by little, Lan Zhan had allowed him closer and closer. But Wei Ying had left, he’d left and he’d rejected any of Lan Zhan’s attempts to help him, to understand why he had changed or what had broken between them.

“Wei Ying, what am I-” Lan Zhan is cut off by the whistling of the tea kettle, he isn’t sure what he was going to ask anymore, but he still watches Wei Ying as he prepares tea for the both of them, his hands quick and skilled in the motions of it all, Lan Zhan can feel himself becoming entranced. The spell is only broken by Wei Ying beckoning him over to the table, his smile flickering into something softer, something Wei Ying only showed to certain people.

Lan Zhan hasn’t been one of those people before, and he isn’t sure if he is now, or if he’ll see this smile again, so when Wei Ying sits down, so does Lan Zhan, his fingers curling around his mug and his eyes focused on the reflections in the amber liquid.

Wei Ying still remembers how Lan Zhan likes his tea. Lan Zhan doesn’t want to think about what that might mean, instead, he focuses on the way Wei Ying leans forward with his elbows on the table, it leads Lan Zhan’s eyes right to the length of Wei Ying’s chest left exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt before Lan Zhan tears his eyes away again, heat creeping up the back of his neck.

“Lan Zhan, I…” Wei Ying starts, his own eyes bearing something that looks like guilt down onto the table, “I didn’t…” Wei Ying starts and stops a few times before he picks up his tea and sets it down again. He hasn’t taken a sip and Lan Zhan waits for him without breathing. He’s already been holding his breath for nearly two years now, what’s a few moments more?

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan calls him softly, hoping that it would help whatever it is that he’s trying to say, his eyes find Wei Ying’s fingers where they lay, still wrapped around his mug, his thumb twitching back and forth. If they had been different people to each other, Lan Zhan might’ve reached over and laid his hand against Wei Ying’s wrist. He might’ve curled his own fingers around Wei Ying’s hand to comfort him, but as they are, Lan Zhan can only feel his throat thicken with want as he thinks about doing those things, about being that kind of person to Wei Ying.

The notch in Wei Ying’s throat bobs up and down as he swallows against something, his eyes focusing hard on the tea in front of him, “I wanted to tell you that I’m really happy you’re here, and that I really-'' There was supposed to be more, Lan Zhan is sure of it, but before that something more can come, a thundering kind of sound rattles the light fixture over their heads, drawing both of their eyes upwards. The lights in the kitchen and in the surrounding rooms flicker once, twice, three times before Wei Ying and Lan Zhan look at each other again. Whatever Wei Ying had meant to say lies between them now, hanging like the humidity outside and threatening to burst like thunder.

Without another word, Wei Ying stands up, the ends of his hair starting to prickle upwards as pressure builds around them. Lan Zhan doesn’t stop himself from following after him, the chill from earlier fading entirely as heat threatens to strangle him. He needs to ask Wei Ying about the functionality of the thermostat, he’s sure Wei Ying has replaced it already, but it’s always worth it to ask, especially during investigations like this.

They keep close together on the staircase, with Wei Ying refusing to let Lan Zhan pass him, though it’s not out of any desire to get there first. Lan Zhan lets himself daydream that it’s out of protectiveness. A flurry of knocking sounds land against the wall of the stairwell as they climb higher and higher, but there’s no pattern, no matter how hard Lan Zhan tries to place one, his eyes squeezing shut for just a moment.

Wei Ying’s hand stretches out to stop him as they reach the landing, and for once, Lan Zhan notices the talisman held between his first two fingers. The ground underneath them trembles with the force of the footsteps of a dozen people seem to rush towards them.

They work together, in tandem, without meaning to. Wei Ying flings out the talisman and Lan Zhan throws up a barrier, stopping whatever invisible assault that was tumbling forward. Wei Ying’s talisman lands and something shrieks before it fades away, taking its unseen gang with it as the heat abates.

“They aren’t usually this active during the day.” Wei Ying says, looking at Lan Zhan, but talking to himself as he taps his finger against his nose. Lan Zhan doesn’t interrupt him, he knows to let Wei Ying work through whatever he’s thinking on his own, but the grin that blooms on Wei Ying’s face makes Lan Zhan’s eyebrows pinch together as he turns the full force of it onto him.

“They must be excited to see you, Lan Zhan!”

#wangxian #wuji #wei ying #wei wuxian #lan zhan #lan wangji #haunted houses #case fic #mdzs #the untamed #modern au #modern with magic #its rated T for now but thats gonna go up in the future

7 notes · View notes

jazzafterhours · 9 months ago

Text

thinking about sebastian and anders lately

rape play / consensual non-consent, processing trauma through kink

so ive thought a lot about sebastian's Issues With Demons. the desire demon plays a big role in his personal mission and, especially being so connected to the chantry, he's very disturbed by the encounter. then in the quest night terrors, he refuses to go into the fade because thats "no place" for him, i cant remember his exact dialogue but he words it as more of a general thing than a personal thing. this could be a real character opinion, or it could easily be a development issue, more of a "we dont have the time and resources to add extra content to that quest for him" thing but i like to think of it as a him having personal struggles with facing the fade and demons that he hides behind a more broad statement. as a man of faith, and someone whose family died because of a demon's involvement, demons are truly nightmarish. he's also a man with personal demons, and has given into temptation before. he could fear a demon using this against him, might be afraid that his will is weak. most demons go after mages, but it seems desire ones dont need a mage in particular to get exactly what they want

i could see him really getting in his head about it, and needing an outlet. he needs to explore what might make him susceptible to giving in, he needs to combat his fears by expressing them, he needs a chance to process some things in a safe environment. he needs to exorcise the demon, metaphorically, so he doesnt have to fear demons, literally.

then there's anders, who has experienced abuse at the hands of templars. anders who is too familiar with being a victim, and he's full of anger about it. he would never, ever do anything like that to another person, but maybe he has fantasies about being the one whos getting the better of someone else. of taking and keeping control, of knowing he cannot be overruled. theres catharsis to be had in a scenario where he's wholly in charge, getting a chance to really internalize that he's free and can choose for himself. in a way, getting to play a dominant role here makes it easier for him to allow himself vulnerability later.

the scene is that anders is a lust demon who is preying on sebastian's secret desires, all the things he used to partake in but has sworn off. sebastian fights back, he resists temptation, and anders takes what he wants anyway. it feels real. sebastian does experience flashes of fear--anders is legitimately dangerous, and the scene is intense. sebastian gets to experience and then release that fear. anders gets to forget, for a while, that he ever had to be afraid.

they know from negotiation and prior sex with each other that they can be rough, they can fight each other, can bruise each other, can even draw a bit of blood and anders will heal it after (or sebastian may want to keep some of it, as long as it isnt a risk. he likes the physical reminder of what he "withstood").

they can be soft with each other though, too. anders can go slow and sweet, ask sebastian if he likes having a demon fuck him like a lover. the scene feels real, but it isn't entirely, they're doing this because they want to, so yeah sebastian does enjoy it. he can resist and he can give in eventually, let anders fuck him to exhaustion. he gets to experience what it might be like to give into an actual demon and be satisfied in the end without any real danger. anders gets to feel liberated and let go of his own fear, gets to process something similar to what he's been through, but from the position that won't just trigger him.

in aftercare, they reiterate that they trust each other, and thats how any of this could work in the first place. anders would not be able to take such an aggressive role without believing sebastian was good with what they were doing and would stop him if he needed to. sebastian wouldn't be able to make himself vulnerable if he didn't believe anders has no real desire to hurt him. both of them feel lighter. theyve gotten messy things out of their head and put them into straightforward action that they can move on from. sebastian feels more steady and confident, anders feels more relaxed.

i think they'd only do something like this once, and then contently move on from it. theyve gotten it off their chests and feel better for it

3 notes · View notes

cg29fics · 2 years ago

Text

Gone

Issues with previous updates, so if you’re reading along you may want to check out the links for previous chapters. The complete fic is also available via FF.Net & A03 - CreativeGirl29

Tagging 🔖 Sorry if I’ve missed anyone - If you would like to be tagged in these updates then please let me know and I’ll add you to the list: @janetm74 @drileyf @katblu42 @psychoseal @weirdburketeer @alexthefly @misstb2 @thundergeek59 @burningcowboyhoagietaco @dragonoffantasyandreality

Previous. Chapter 41. Woken

Chapter 42. Visits.

Back at the hospital: 9am.

Shortly after Virgil had woken, the rest of the family had arrived and had spent some quality time with him. Each one delighted that, although he was still very ill, he was breathing, and fighting to stay with them. As Virgil was currently dosing, Ruth had remained at his side, while Jeff gathered everyone else in the canteen to go over any more information they had found on Sanderson and Andrews.

“So, what have you uncovered?” Jeff questioned.

“We started by looking at Maria Andrews,” John began, “as we know she’s got three younger brothers. The two youngest, who were just 12 and 14 at the time of the incident, being the ones who were badly injured. Her other brother was 16 and luckily, he wasn’t with them, he was at an educational tech camp, specifically aimed at computers.”

“Does he still have anything to do with computers?” Jeff enquired.

“Yes,” John responded, “he’s 18 now, and currently studying at the Auckland University of Technology, and his current grades are fantastic. I would say that he certainly knows enough to help his sister and stop the computers that we found from working?”

Jeff smiled. “Do you think it was Maria Andrews then?”

“I do,” John confirmed, “and I know Alan and Gordon agree.”

Jeff glanced towards his oldest son. “But you don’t Scott?”

“No,” Scott admitted, “and when we went deeper with our search on Emily’s aunt and brother, it just convinced me even more!”

“What did you find?” Jeff asked.

“We’ve done checks into her aunt Zara Sanderson’s past, there are no criminal charges against her, and apart from being quizzed about her sister’s allegations she’s never been taken in for questioning by the police. She seems squeaky clean!” Scott replied.

“Seems?” Jeff returned.

“Zara had been receiving a lump sum paid into an account, once a year since Emily was 10, and it looks like they came from Emily’s real father. He stopped paying them to her when Emily was 22,” Scott answered.

“If he started paying them when she was 10, that means he knew about his daughter’s whereabouts before Emily first found him,” Jeff observed.

“Exactly!” Scott stated. “We also found an account in Emily’s name, since she turned 22, she’s been receiving occasional deposits instead.”

“And do we know why they left America?” Jeff asked.

“We still have no idea,” John responded, “but just before they moved to New Zealand. Emily’s brothers Warren was arrested alongside his boss, for receiving stolen cars and trying to sell them on. He was released without charge, but his boss was eventually sent to prison. From what we’ve found it looks like Warren may have been guilty, but Emily’s father paid him out of trouble.”

“All this points to Emily still being in touch with her father, and could mean that she is seeking revenge for him.” Jeff paused, thought through all the facts before continuing. “I agree with Scott, Maria may have the motive, and as we’ve recently discovered the means. However, along with the possible motive, there’s just something about Emily that doesn’t sit right! Penny, Parker, what do you think?”

“For me the evidence points to Maria,” Parker remarked, “but without meeting either woman, I wouldn’t want to say for sure.”

Penelope nodded. “I’m in the same mindset, I’m afraid Jeff.”

“And you’ve exhausted all avenues in the background checks?” Jeff asked John.

“Not necessarily, but I don’t know if anymore checks will reveal anything helpful,” John replied honestly.

Jeff sighed. “So, we need to figure out our next step then.”

“Personally, I think there are three possible ways we can find out for definite which one it is,” Penny stated. “The first being that when the effects from the Rynax have worn off Virgil remembers, and the second being that whomever as done this, does something to give themselves away.”

“And the third?” Scott questioned

“The third being less likely. Myself and Jeff are going to visit the Hood this afternoon, so we can test the equipment Brains invented. There’s always the small chance he will reveal something if provoked!”

They all sat in silence until Jeff’s attention was captured by his mother stepping into the canteen. “Mother, is Virgil alright?” Jeff asked worryingly, as she made her way towards them.

“The poor boy as just been sick,” Ruth answered, “and unfortunately, the nurse wasn’t quick enough with the bowl. They’re just cleaning him up now.”

“Any other side-effects?” Scott exhaled.

Ruth nodded. “He’s also started having headaches.”

“Have the nurses been able to give him anything to help?” Gordon questioned.

“The nurse said they would give him some anti-sickness medication.” Ruth confirmed. “The headaches started just before he vomited and unfortunately, because of what he’s already had, they can’t really give him much else. However, they have dimmed the lights, pulled the blinds closed, and put the monitors on a quieter mode. Hopefully, that should help a little bit.” Ruth glanced around the table at all their concerned faces. “Now, try not to worry too much,” she added, “we knew that these side-effects would most likely happen because of the amount of Rynax Virgil was given, and the nurse explained that any effects would disappear once the drug is completely out of his system.”

… …

It was now 11am, and Scott was currently sitting beside Virgil with Jeff, who was having second thoughts about going with Penny to visit the Hood in prison. “Dad, you need to go!” Scott finally stated, after watching his father glance doubtfully towards the door for the millionth time.

“I don’t know,” Jeff frowned, “he’s still on Oxygen, he’s been vomiting a lot! Plus, the anti-sickness meds don’t seem to be helping, and then he’s got these headaches.

“Dad, I’ll be here to keep an eye on Virgil, and Gordon will be here in a minute, so he can look after me!”

Jeff laughed at Scott’s response, but then shook his head. “No. I’ve thought about it, and with everything I’ve already mentioned, plus finding out Andrews and Sanderson have been released. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything were to happen.”

“That’s even more reason to go!” Scott interjected. “As Penny said earlier, your visit to the Hood might provoke him into revealing something that we’ve missed. We need to find out which one it is, and we don’t have anything else to go on!” After a couple of minutes of silence, Jeff once more looked doubtfully towards the door. “Dad, go!” Scott ordered.

“Fine. I’ll go,” Jeff sighed, finally giving in. Leaning over, Jeff stroked his hand softly over Virgil’s head. “Virg,” he whispered, “I just wanted to let you know I’m going with Penny now�� Okay?” Virgil offered a thumb up signalling his agreement. “Keep in touch and let me know how he’s doing,” Jeff added, finally standing up.

“Of course,” Scott smiled, “now go!”

Jeff tucked Virgil’s blankets around him, and then placed a kiss on his head. He then turned to face Scott, ruffled his hair, and made his way out of the room.

Scott grinned when he had finally left. “That father of ours is such a smother!”

“Pot, kettle!” Virgil retorted, with his eyes still shut.

Scott grinned at his brother’s retaliation. “If you weren’t feeling so sick right now, I would tickle you for being so cheeky!”

Virgil tried to release a laugh, but instead found himself squinting from the piercing migraine, which now hit him with its full force.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked, with obvious concern.

“Head… Sick,” Virgil stammered.

Scott placed his hand soothingly on Virgil’s back while the nurse who was currently on duty in his room passed the sick bowl to him.

“Are you okay?” She asked, after Virgil had stopped vomiting.

“Think so,” he replied.

The nurse took the tray from him, and then poured some water into a small cup. “Try and drink some water. It’s just there for you when you’re ready.”

Virgil shook his head. “Makes me sick.”

“I know,” the nurse replied, “but you’re going to be sick again anyway. It’s just easier if you have something in your stomach rather than dry retching all the time.”

Virgil sighed, and reached a shaky hand towards the cup.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Scott offered.

Virgil batted Scott’s hand out the way. “Not a baby!”

“Okay, Mr Independent!” Scott smiled.

Virgil grasped the cup, and shakily brought it towards himself, managed to take a sip and placed it back. “See!”

Scott grinned. “Well done, now try and get some rest!”

“Yes, Smother!” Vigil responded, before lying back down.

… …

A few hours later: Auckland Prison.

“Balah Gaat, your visitors have arrived.” The officer announced to the Hood who was currently sitting in a small interview room, chained to the bolted down chair.

The Hood glared towards the door, wondering who had the audacity to come and see him. “Jeff Tracy,” he beamed, with genuine surprise, when Jeff made his way into the room, “and Penelope Creighton Ward!” The Hood exclaimed, when Penny followed behind Jeff. “Oh, don’t look so surprised,” he laughed, “I know all there is to know about Jeff, his family, and those who are closely connected to him.” The Hood waited for them to sit down on the chairs opposite. “So, what do I owe this pleasure?” He snorted. Jeff and Penny looked at each other and smiled, but didn’t utter a word. The Hood scowled at them. “Oh, come on, don’t be shy… Why are you here?” When he still received no reply, he continued. “Okay then, if you’re not going to be forthcoming, let me see if I can guess... It’s to do with that woman, isn’t it? You don’t know who it is, so you are trying to psyche me out, and make me angry enough to reveal which one it is, is that your plan?” Much to the Hood’s annoyance, Penny and Jeff continued to quietly stare at him. “Even if your plan does work, and I was to reveal to you both which woman it was, you would never know if I was telling you the truth! Sanderson or Andrews, is that what you’ve come here to ask me?”

“No, that’s not why we are here,” Jeff finally answered.

“Why are you here then?” The Hood demanded.

Jeff leaned forwards and looked the Hood straight in the eye. “I came here to tell you that your plan’s failed!”

The Hood smirked. “How’s it failed? The last time I saw your precious boy he was practically lifeless. Yes, they had put him on that breathing machine, but we both know he’ll never wake up. Not after what I gave him!”

Penelope and Jeff glanced at each other and both released a hearty laugh. “That’s where you are very much wrong,” Penny retorted, “you see, Virgil’s a Tracy… Which means he’s strong and brave!”

“Oh really?” He scoffed.

“Yes,” Jeff smiled, “not only as my boy survived, he’s also awake!”

The Hood slammed his chained hands on the table. “Well not for long,” he growled, “I will escape, and I will finish my revenge!”

“And exactly how do you plan to do that?” Penelope teased.

“With my powers, of course!” The Hood sneered at them both, his eyes turning to a piercing yellow.

Next: C43

#thunderbirds fanfiction #cg29fics #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fandom #thunderbirds original series #tagficgone #virgil tracy #thunderwhump

14 notes · View notes

whoredmode · 1 year ago

Text

ok well my eyes are glazing over from working on my big post so i’m gonna take a break and talk about my AU: santo ileso blues. it’s definitely a vague rewrite of the reboot, but i also took some inspiration from total control and undercover, of all things. something about the boss just disappearing and the saints having internal issues without them there is just really fascinating to me. anyway stuff is absolutely subject to change but this is the general plot outline i have rn.

so it opens on the end of the LoP story. autumn 2012. anteros has a decision to make: kill eric gryphon now, or let him live and hear him out. the actual canon decision is the latter. anteros lowers his gun and they talk, and this leads into the saints becoming an ultor-owned brand and into srtt.

in this AU, though, anteros decides to kill him.

he shoots eric through the head. the gunshot alerts jamie, who calls the masako, and anteros kills her too as she attempts to run. anteros must escape now, though, as the masako are closing in. he gets out, and as if on cue, troy pulls up and tells him to get in the car. they get out, barely, and begin to stockpile and pack all the cash and weapons they have. anteros has just set off something he may not be able to come back from. everything is about to come out: the truth about the relationships between the saints and ultor, between anteros and troy, and the things ultor’s been planning that the public is unaware of.

anteros is in a bad state of mind at this point, having just murdered the man who, whether he’d admit it or not, was giving him some semblance of guidance. he doesn’t know what to do. he’s so lost. he comes to the decision to just run. in some ways, he already knows this is the wrong choice, but the feeling of regret weighs so heavily on his mind. he can’t bear to look at the saints. what kind of leader is he? he can’t do anything without the words of someone else, without a superior to take orders from. so he and troy pack the car and leave before things begin to really blow up.

that night, already hours away from stilwater, anteros calls johnny on a burner phone. they’ve been wondering where he is, hearing that eric’s dead and seeing the masako crawling all over the ultor district and surrounding areas. anteros just apologizes to johnny, tells him he knows he’ll do a better job than he ever could, and hangs up. anteros breaks the phone. he and troy continue their escape.

back in stilwater, johnny is now leader. however, at this point, johnny’s still been dealing with his own issues following the still-recent death of aisha. he’s been a lot more volatile, driven by intense anger and grief. and now he’s suddenly in charge of the saints. something he didn’t ask for. pierce and shaundi try their best to offer help, but it doesn’t end up going over too well as none of them really know what to do. they aren’t sure why anteros has disappeared, nor do they realize what’s about to happen.

they turn on the TV to try to calm down for minute, but upon seeing the news they realize what’s been done. the story is still developing, but things are becoming clear through documents and photos in eric’s possession. the extent of the saints’ dealings with ultor is now public, the relationship between troy and anteros, the undisclosed work ultor’s been doing with their weapons manufacturing, and even with vague info being released about dex now, it’s clear just how much anteros had been hiding from them.

so in my canon, STAG was a part of ultor, and now with things in even more disarray, the remaining board members of ultor make the decision to release them earlier than planned. this obviously ends up triggering a war between ultor/STAG and the saints, similar to what eventually happens in the srtt rewrite, but to a somewhat different degree. it’s not a full city lockdown, but rather a targeted attack on the saints in an effort to get rid of them to improve their image (their PR department ofc already spinning all this shit as entirely the saints’ fault).

johnny ends up getting killed. shaundi and pierce try to save him but can’t, barely getting out of there in time to save themselves. this marks a stark change in shaundi especially. she wants to avenge johnny, and that means finding and killing anteros.

meanwhile in steelport (yes they’re involved in this too), the syndicate has been keeping an eye on stilwater. with the saints potentially being eradicated, this will open up another power vacuum for them to fill. however, some time around 2014 or so, kiki and viola succeed in their mission to kill loren and dex. killbane takes over the syndicate, and the twins leave as they have no personal connection to the organization. however, when they return to ultor, the company does not have the money to pay them in full. furious for not getting their earnings after having been on this mission for years, they decide to track down anteros. he’s the one who started this chain reaction, so he should be the one to pay them back.

over 10 years have passed since anteros and troy fled stilwater. they ended up in santo ileso, living out in the desert minding their business. keeping quiet. anteros has become an extremely sought-after hitman. he’s good at what he does. unlike how he was to those who knew him before, anteros is a quiet, foreboding presence in santo ileso. his face remains hidden behind a violet bandana, and his visage is that of a grim reaper. originally he did his work the old-fashioned way, but as the times changed, so did he. the wanted app exists, but it’s an unofficial app you have to jailbreak your phone to use. anyone involved in anything illegal in santo ileso has access to it in some way.

kevin, neenah, and eli are all still roommates. kevin and neenah are part of their respective gangs, while eli is a corporate law student. they get along well, and even consider each other friends, but i still want an obvious wall between them because of the different gangs and just generally different circles they’re in. i’ll talk about the changes i’ve made to the gangs and gang dynamics in a different post bc there’s several i’ve made. but regardless, they’ve all heard rumors about anteros since they’ve lived here forever, but they’ve never encountered him. he’s almost like an urban legend. however, since he’s never actually bothered the gangs in santo ileso and operates as his own thing, they’ve never had a reason to find him. but all that to say, the three still occasionally struggle with money. and that eventually leads into kevin and neenah deciding (without the other realizing) to take jobs on the wanted app.

so it’s the 2020s, and shaundi and pierce have finally figured out that anteros has to be somewhere in the southwest. santo ileso and its surrounding areas specifically. similarly, kiki and viola have also figured the same. however, with anteros and troy having made roots in the city for a decade now, they hear about shaundi and pierce’s arrival through their own underground connections. and, perhaps, anteros has his own connections to the nahualli, someone else who’s also like a myth in the city.

so anteros puts shaundi and pierce on the wanted app for an insanely high reward. kevin and neenah see these listings independently of each other, and decide to go for it. kevin was tracking pierce, neenah was tracking shaundi. they converge in the middle of the day, about to attack their respective target. but they’re shocked to see each other, and their confusion gives shaundi and pierce the upper hand. shaundi and pierce decide to kidnap them, because if they recognize their faces, clearly they know something about anteros. but then they just learn about the wanted app, but it’s a start. who else would put them there but him?

so that’s the basic outline of the plot. shaundi and pierce using kevin, neenah, and eventually eli to help them track down anteros, who is pretty much a ghost in santo ileso. eventually the twins get involved bc they’re looking for him too. there’s more internal drama as kevin and neenah have to deal with the fact they’re working things that could arguably be used to benefit their gang and not helping them, but i can go over that more when i talk about the specific gangs themselves.

#santo ileso blues au tag

4 notes · View notes

palfriendpatine66 · 2 years ago

Text

WIP Wednesday

A snippet from the new fic I randomly started yesterday, a modern AU in which Obi-Wan raises Anakin and Ahsoka. I swear my intent is for it to be overall cute and happy but it begins with Qui-Gon's death... so...we begin with angst

Found Family

A heavy hand guided his shoulder a few steps away from the boy and Mace asked in undertone, “Obi-Wan, are you still drunk?”

Obi-Wan was beginning to question that himself but considering the conversation he had to have with the man as Mace Windu: Department of Children and Families supervisor, and not Mace: Qui-Gon’s friend and BBQ rival, he denied it as strongly as he could.

“Absolutely not,” he sputtered, not as convincing as he would have hoped. “I think I might be in shock,” he mumbled, and considering how clammy he became when he turned to the empty hospital room, that might have actually been the case. Mace’s severe facial expression didn’t exactly soften, but the grip on his shoulder did.

Obi-Wan took a breath to gather himself as much as he could. “I need to talk to you,” he gestured toward the room, knowing it would afford them the privacy they needed, despite how just looking at it made him nauseous. Mace blanched in discomfort but nodded and stepped inside.

Obi-Wan put his hands on thin shoulders and gently guided the young boy to the chair just outside the door to wait in the hall. “Anakin,” he said softly, “I need you to wait out here. I’ll be right back.”

Blue eyes widened in alarm and a hand shot out to grab his arm. “Don’t leave.”

Obi-Wan patted the hand once softly before releasing the boy’s panicky hold. “I’m not leaving anywhere without you,” he knelt down to make the promise at eye level. “Mace is in charge - I need to talk to him so you can come with me. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He shivered as he entered the empty room and shut the door quietly behind him. It was so cold, so empty - a void - as though the room itself was mourning the warm presence that had been lost within its walls. As empty as Obi-Wan would be if it wasn’t for the promise he had made demanding that he stay standing, keep moving, find the words to see it through. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off before he even started by Mace’s most foreboding tone.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he started sternly. That was never a good sign. “Please, please tell me I did not just hear you promising that boy he was coming with you. You know that we can’t just throw around promises like -”

“I promised Qui-Gon I would take him”

“You what?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, and if the words that followed were as quiet as a whisper, at least they were steady. “I promised.”

Mace stared at him for several moments of disbelief. “What exactly did you promise?” he eventually asked evenly, bracing himself.

“That I would take him home. That I would take care of him. I wouldn’t send him back into the system that was breaking him.”

Mace closed his eyes, already sensing how much of a headache he was going to have before the end of this day. If there was anything Qui-Gon had passed on to Obi-Wan it was his resolve. “You know how this works. You know you just can’t take him home like - like he’s some stray cat!”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flashed dangerously, his voice firm. “I will take him home like he’s family. Just like Qui-Gon wanted.”

#wip wendesday #my fic #found family

9 notes · View notes

scout-company · 2 years ago

Text

Atlas—Chapter 3: Instinct

That feeling of being watched, that dull yet incessant buzz in her shell at the back of her neck, doesn’t go away as Scout crests the hill. It just sits there. She even slaps the back of her neck at one point, almost hoping the buzz is just a local bug that found her light attractive. But nope. No bug; the feeling’s still there.

Bug or no bug, watched or not, all Scout can do is keep trekking. She does draw her dagger, though, the familiar distant echo in her brand a small comfort for once. East northeast. That’s still over a few more hills.

The further Scout treks, down this hill and up the next, the dustier the air gets. What started as a clear, cold breeze where she warped down now carries a grit. It doesn’t agitate her brand to the point of pain yet, but she can feel glancing blows of particles across the still sensitive parts of her brand’s shell. Annoying little pecks. Eventually she has to put a hand in front of her face to block some of the dust as she approaches the storm S.A.I.L. warned her about.

She doesn’t really see the storm coming. Her light reflects off the dust in the air more and more as she progresses, blurring the boundary between storm and open air. She can barely see, and the wind around her soon picks up to a roar through the shrubbery and trees, so focusing on anything other than the faint pull of the planet’s field soon becomes nigh-impossible. But she does still have that pull as a compass. Mighty convenient that this planet seems to have a slightly stronger field than Haven Valley.

She crests yet another hill, and through the dust she sees another glow down the slope. It’s a blur of flickering amber and faint-off-white; distinctly not a reflection of her own glow for once. Maybe it’s the settlement!

With a surge of a thrill—finally something different than the monotony of the storm—Scout brightens and starts down the slope.

The further down she gets, the more she hears something over the drone of the wind. Voices, maybe? They start mostly subdued, with only an occasional hoot or laugh cutting through the wind. But the lower she gets, the more excited the voices get. More bursts of loud voices.

She’s almost to the base of the slope when the voices suddenly crescendo. Lots of shouts and barks. The lights start to move, including a few more piercing white lights cutting through the dust in shaking beams. Do they see her?

As the voices get closer and louder, Scout starts to call out, “Oi! Someone there? I’m—”

But then the voices get clear enough her translator activates with a ping before overlaying the blurry shouts with shouts of “Hey! Get out of here!” and “Get it!”

“What?!” Scout flares. An energy shot zings through the air over her head, singeing the dust and crackling with ozone. “Oi!”

Another shot barely misses her corona. She ducks and demands, “The heck are y’all doin’?! I’m a friend! I—”

A roar behind her cuts her off. Scout stiffens and turns, hand dropping down to the dagger in her pocket without her fully realizing it.

A huff of stinky, hot breath, running countercurrent to the sandstorm, washes over her. Then three sets of angry, predatory eyes shine through the dust. The creature takes a warning step towards her, snarling and casting more stink her way. All she can see through the illuminated dust is a massive silhouette of a hulking, four-legged beast taller than her.

Another set of shots zing through the air over and around Scout. Most of them miss the beast entirely. But one skims its head. It flinches, but its eyes only sharpen and it releases another foul roar.

Then it charges.

Scout scrambled out of its way, tucking into a haphazard roll as it barrels through. “Y’all jus’ made it angry!” she crackles as she scrambled to her feet, dagger in hand.

The voices cry out in panic and the beams of light scramble and shake every which way as the beast charges, shoving its head at people Scout can’t see but it either sees or smells. Stray shots fly wildly. Only a few actually hit the creature.

“Oi Stinky!” Scout taunts, scurrying forward to get the beast’s attention. She gets four eyes glaring her way; two are closed. It pushes off its last target and charges at her.

Scout isn’t quite sure how her dagger and her feet know what to do. Instinct takes over and blurs the next minute. Her feet dance around the beast, her hand strikes with the dagger every time it gets close. Once she even rolls under the foul thing when it leaps towards her and the voices. Distantly she registers shots still flying from the others. One even skims her arm on its way to the beast’s side.

She knows she gets several good hits on the thing, but some sort of instinct dominates her focus. Until the beast gets close enough to bite.

Teeth close around her right arm. It’s breath is foul enough at a distance; this close it feels like slime over her brand. Scout panics, strikes at the creature’s jaw with her dagger in her free hand. Then flares brighter than she knew she could.

All of the beast’s eyes blink, then shut as it howls. Scout tumbles to her back as it releases her arm.

It’s still blinded. It thrashes against unseen enemies, backing up the slope and hitting more than one jutting stone in the process. For a moment Scout can only watch and scramble backwards.

But then another pulse of shots zing through the air. Only half actually hit the creature, but the shots that do hit do the trick. The creature howls again, shakes its head. Then it turns tail and runs, limping over stones and tripping on shrubs. It trips and tumbles just past the crest of a small hill to the south, crashing somewhere out of view as it fades into the storm.

Scout buzzes for several moments, barely hearing herself over the wind. Some of the beams of light behind her tremble a bit, a few lower. A few others settle on her back instead.

“That happened,” Scout fizzles dully as she scoots slowly back to her feet. Her arm feels disgusting. It doesn’t help that she’s venting a small wisp of plasma from her upper arm. She switches her dagger to her right hand so she can cover the vent with her left, then slowly starts to turn back around to address the voices.

Who are close enough to see through the dust now, at least. The ones in the front of the small group are all armored, wearing plates over thick red padding and with round, grey helmets with illuminated blue visors. Some have their guns—and their lights—pointed wearily at the ground. But the ones pointing the lights at her are also pointing guns at her.

Scout flares briefly with a startled crackle, “Whoa! That ain’t necessary! Put yer guns down.”

“Who are you?” one of the gun-holders closest to her demands in Galactic Common, squaring their armored shoulders and aiming her gun at Scout even more. They’re shaking,

“Name’s Scout, from Haven Valley,” Scout quickly says, lifting her right hand and holding her dagger in such a way that she hopefully looks harmless. “I-I ain’t here to cause no trouble. Promise.”

To her relief, the gun-holder’s stance relaxes, as does the rest of their companions. They all lower their guns. “Haven Valley?” the one closest to Scout echoes.

Tentatively Scout nods, “Yeah. They sent me for a…”

“The trade deal?”

“Y-yeah.”

For some reason the armored folks share a look. A few of the unarmored folk, hiding behind the others, also share peculiar looks before hurrying away, towards the warm amber lights shining through the sandstorm.

A few moments pass, and Scout drones uncertainly. She almost starts to ask something, but then one of the other armored folks waves her and the others back the way the unarmored folks went and says, “We should probably discuss this inside. The storm’s only gonna get worse tonight.”

The armored folks lead Scout into a fair-sized green tent. Two of them stay outside, saying something to each other about still being on watch, according to Scout’s translator. But two of the others go into the tent with Scout; one goes first, the other holds the flap open for Scout to duck inside and ducks in after her, zipping the flap closed against the storm.

Once they’re all inside the tent, with Scout sitting roughly in the middle of the tent and being a brighter light than either the small electric lantern in the corner or the campfire a few yards outside the tent, the armored folks get themselves settled and both take off their helmets. They’re both Human women; the one in front of Scout having bronze-brown skin and almost coily hair that dangles every which way like a bundle of springs, the one to Scout’s side having ruddy skin and hair that was probably supposed to be dyed blue but hasn’t been redone in a while, showing more as faded purple over her natural brunette. The coily-haired lady sighs, shoulders slumping a bit before she rolls them, then looks at Scout. “Right then. About that trade deal.”

“Do y’all have a towel or somethin’ first?” Scout interrupts, shaking her arm slightly while trying not to touch anything with her dirtied dagger, “That critter left me a bit messy.”

The other lady chuckles a bit and muses, “Yeah, those things tend to do that. They’re kinda slobbery. Uh…” She turns a bit, glancing around the interior of the tent for a moment before making a triumphant noise and reaching across the tent behind Scout. “Here,” she offers, handing Scout a small squarish cloth. It’s a bit stained but looks clean otherwise.

Scout lifts her left hand from her right arm briefly before accepting the cloth, peeking at where she was grazed. Looks like her shell sealed itself already, fortunately. So she accepts the cloth and does a quick wipe of her arm before starting on her dagger.

After a moment, the coily-haired lady clears her throat. “Anyways…” she prompts.

“Huh? Oh—Right, y’all were sayin’ something ‘bout that trade deal thingy?” Scout remembers with a pop, looking up from her dagger.

“Yeah…about that,” the woman frowns, fussing with the cuff of her glove like it’s suddenly a tad too tight. “It’s a pity you didn’t come sooner.”

Scout fizzes with a mildly irked crackle, “I came as fast as I could. Dang storm messed up the warp signal or somethin’.” The woman’s frown only tightens a bit, but not because the storm blows another gust against the side of the tent. So Scout tilts her head and wonders, “What, did somethin’ happen?”

~~~~~

<< Previous || Next >>

#starbound fanfic #starbound #starbound novakid #fanfic #I Was The Sun #Atlas

4 notes · View notes